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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75498 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+                              BLACKWOOD’S
+                          EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
+            NO. CCCCXIII.      MARCH, 1850.      VOL. LXVII.
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS.
+
+
+  CIVIL REVOLUTION IN THE CANADAS,                                 249
+  A LATE CASE OF COURT-MARTIAL,                                    269
+  A FAREWELL TO NAPLES,                                            279
+  BARBARIAN RAMBLES,                                               281
+  GOLDSMITH. PART II.,                                             296
+  TO BURNS’S “HIGHLAND MARY,”                                      309
+  MY PENINSULAR MEDAL. BY AN OLD PENINSULAR. PART IV.,             313
+  THE GREEN HAND—A “SHORT” YARN. PART IX.,                         329
+  CANADIAN LOYALTY. AN ODE,                                        345
+  AGRICULTURE, COMMERCE, AND MANUFACTURES: OPENING OF THE SESSION, 347
+
+
+                               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.
+
+
+
+
+                                ERRATUM.
+
+
+Page 372, column second, Estimate of Expenditure of Absentees, _for_
+£40,000,000 _read_ £20,000,000.
+
+
+
+
+                              BLACKWOOD’S
+
+                          EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
+
+            NO. CCCCXIII.      MARCH, 1850.      VOL. LXVII.
+
+
+
+
+                    CIVIL REVOLUTION IN THE CANADAS.
+
+
+We had intended changing the title of our papers on the Canadas, and
+throwing together for the Magazine the results of many years’
+experience, and many opportunities of observing the lights and shades of
+colonial life. Not that we had a new system of settlement to propound,
+or a new art of colonisation to illustrate. Our purpose was simply to
+have conducted the reader along the high road of colonial life, and to
+have pointed out to him, on the way, houses evidencing comfort,
+respectability, and plenty, farms proving wealth and independence, and
+barn-yards filled with stock and with grain, belonging to men, who, but
+a comparatively short time before, had been labouring in Europe without
+a hope beyond their daily bread, or a prospect beyond that of constantly
+toiling for others. We had purposed, too, telling the story of how these
+men rose; and pointing out, in the same great country, thousands upon
+thousands of openings for others to go and do likewise. Nor did we
+intend stopping here. There is a large class of men in Great Britain,
+who, feeling as men, and wishing to discharge the duties of men, cannot
+look very comfortably around them, and see those who owe their existence
+to them likely to be left worse off in the world than they were left
+themselves; yet who cannot, from the peculiar organisation of society in
+Britain, help themselves; and who are often prevented—through family
+connexions that bring them no good, and family pride that often sickens
+much more than it elevates the heart—even from using those exertions and
+efforts that might better their condition. We purposed pointing out the
+adaptation of the colonies to such men, and their adaptation to the
+colonies. But this to us agreeable undertaking—for we believe it might
+be attended with good—we are obliged for the present to abandon, to
+consider the state of the colonies with respect to their government and
+the institutions of England; and to see if we cannot suggest a plan
+whereby those we might induce to settle in them might not lose the
+protection, the glory, and the fostering care of their mother country.
+
+The legislation of Great Britain, for the last ten years, is marked by
+some peculiar and distinctive features over that of perhaps any other
+portion of her legislative history. These are eminently, a studied and
+intentional disregard of the teachings and the experience of the past,
+in an overweening confidence in the wisdom of present measures, and
+their being proof against all future disasters; a sort of supercilious
+spurning, in sailing under the new canvass of free trade, of all the old
+landmarks which saved England’s power from many a shipwreck, and her
+glory from many a stain. It will hardly be denied, that that portion of
+Great Britain’s national worth which is made up of her achievements, of
+her glory, ever well-earned, and of her fame, ever dearly bought, has
+been and is regarded, by the philosophy of the Manchester school of
+politicians, as a possession by no means worth its cost, and little
+worth the keeping. May it not, in truth, be fairly presumed, from the
+movements that have followed the portentous measure of _free trade_, and
+from the recent agitations and speeches of its principal promoters, that
+they are seeking to establish a new description of glory for Great
+Britain; that they are endeavouring to change her whole national
+character; that they are, in short, seeking to raze all the former
+monuments, sacred to _her_ greatness, in order to construct, in their
+stead, monuments sacred to their own? Clearly the spirit of the age, in
+so far as they have evoked it, is destructive alike of reverence for the
+wisdom, and pride in the achievements, of the past. Neither is it
+unnatural, with the views of this school of politicians, that it should
+be so. The free-trade movement has ever advanced, in proportion as it
+succeeded in converting Great Britain to the belief, that the whole mind
+of the past was shrouded in darkness and error. It could not, therefore,
+be expected to inspire admiration or reverence, for what it thus
+practically taught men to condemn and repudiate. And it may well indeed
+seek to establish a new and a great glory for Britain; for assuredly
+great is the glory, and great is the national possession of which it is
+fast bereaving her. The essential spirit of national patriotism—that
+chivalrous feeling of disinterestedness, which once made Britons proud
+of forgetting the world for their country, and themselves in its
+defence—where is it?—what is now swiftly becoming its doom? Is it not
+palpably withering beneath the cold shadow of free-trade philosophy? Are
+not the cosmopolitan doctrines of free trade rapidly making Britons
+forget their country? Are these doctrines not absorbing all the energies
+of the nation in the struggles of avarice? Are they not sinking every
+patriotic, every noble national feeling, in the love of gain? Speak now
+of a measure involving the glory, the shame, and the interests of
+England, or of even a single class in England, and what will be its
+probable treatment? The glorious part may have a few advocates, who will
+be laughed at for their antiquated notions; or it may serve to evoke a
+few bright ideas in a debate—the modern surplusage of great men’s
+speeches. The shame part may occasion a feeling of effervescent
+indignation for the moment. But the interest portion will instantly call
+forth all the energies of the economic mind of Britain, and will soon
+accumulate such an avalanche of figures and calculations, as will bear
+down and crush every other consideration before it. It was once thought
+wise that men should be taught, through the achievements of their
+forefathers, the value of their institutions. Free-trade philosophy
+calls it wiser to teach them to forget forefathers, achievements, and
+all, in a gigantic struggle for pounds, shillings, and pence. “Confound
+your acquiring a manly pride by learning your hereditary right to it!”
+is the language of this school of politicians, and the language they are
+rapidly teaching England. “Give us the pride of money.” “Britain against
+the world, as long as Britain pays; but the world against Britain, the
+moment she doesn’t,” are the popular and practical lessons of the
+Manchester school,—though a nation’s glory, all the world’s experience
+teaches us, is the very vitality of its patriotism. A throne or a
+republic, without such flowers blooming around it, is a poor, unsightly,
+unlovable thing, having nothing for a people’s affections to cling to;
+yet are not these flowers fast withering round the throne of England?
+Are not the memories of the nation, which nourish and keep them alive,
+being obliterated by the all-powerful tendencies of a political
+philosophy which recognises no greatness but that of money, and no
+pursuit worth following but that of material interests? Are not the
+ties, too, which bind subjects together, and the duties which men owe to
+each other in a state, of harmonising their interests for the common
+good, and of making mutual sacrifices for national unity and great
+national destiny, being fast relaxed and forgotten in Great Britain?
+
+The parties ruling the United States of America are at this moment
+making sacrifices of the vastest magnitude to each other—sacrifices of
+great principles as well as of great interests. And why? Because, did
+they not do so, the republic could not hold together perhaps for a
+twelvemonth; and, once severed, they know full well what would be the
+magnitude of their disaster. Mutual sacrifices and concessions are, in
+truth, the ties that bind them together. Let their common glory and
+their common destiny, let the knowledge of what they have achieved
+united, and what they would become if severed, once fail to produce a
+patriotism, or national virtue, powerful enough to cause them to yield
+sectional interests for the common good, and to forego great party
+principles and objects, for the preservation of their institutions and
+the integrity of their government, and glory would soon take leave of
+their Israel.
+
+Now in Great Britain, where the operation of free institutions occasions
+similar necessities for sacrifices and concessions being made by each
+great class in the state to the other, or others, in order to secure
+that harmony and unity necessary to all national permanency, and to the
+perpetuation of national power, what does the legislation of the last
+ten years exhibit? Does it not exhibit one great class struggling for
+the giant’s power over another, and, having gained it, using it like a
+giant? In the great co-partnery in national property and national
+destiny, men owe it to each other to balance their books fairly as to
+national advantages. What ruins one large class, though it may
+temporarily benefit another, must eventually ruin the nation. A nation
+cannot, more than an individual, bear a constantly mortifying limb. Now
+it is impossible for an intelligent mind not to see, not to have the
+conviction forced upon it, that free trade in Britain is destroying the
+great agricultural limb of the state; and that, if the giant’s power is
+much longer wielded by the giant, fearful consequences must ensue.
+
+But whether the philosophy of free trade has produced, or is producing,
+such great changes as these upon English national character—whether it
+is un-Anglifying England to the extent that we have indicated or not, we
+can answer, at least, for its training to forgetfulness of Britain the
+North American colonies. We can answer for its causing the sinking of
+the subject in the avaricious struggler for “material interests” in
+America. We can answer for its obliterating all national memories,
+obligations, and ties on the part of the colonists, in following the
+selfish lessons that have been sent to them from England, “to take care
+of themselves, for England no longer cares for them.” Perhaps the seeds
+that have been thrown upon the winds by free-trade discussions in
+England, have first taken root in the colonies. Perhaps it was designed
+that they should. Be this as it may, let England learn from the result
+of these on the colonies what it may soon be with herself. Let her
+learn, by their example, the effect of the doctrines, that allegiance
+may be made wholly subservient to interest, and that love of country
+must give way to love of gain.
+
+Twelve years ago, in the month in which we write, the city of Montreal
+presented an appearance that no similarly situated city in the world
+perhaps ever presented before. Its whole British population, educated to
+business, little accustomed to ordinary exercises, least of all to those
+of war, were in the short space of a few days literally converted into
+an army; for, though they knew not the use of arms, and were incapable
+of systematic movements, yet each had the heart to grapple, hand to
+hand, with his foe: and in this they were soldiers. Old men of sixty and
+seventy years of age, accustomed to ease and luxuries, might have been
+seen, at this period, doing duty in the streets of Montreal, in the
+middle of a Canadian winter’s night, as common sentinels. Boys, taken
+away from their schools, might have been seen doing the same. A regiment
+of regulars at the time marched through the city; they struck up, as
+they halted, an air as familiar as the rhymes of children. The strains
+of the music were drowned in the spontaneous cheers of the people. Women
+shed tears of gladness. The air the soldiers played was _God save the
+Queen!_ But why this enthusiasm? and why this military display?
+Two-thirds of the people of Lower Canada—its French inhabitants—had
+taken up arms against the institutions of England. The people of
+Montreal were British.
+
+Now this city of Montreal was little, if at all, capable of military
+defence. It was so constructed as to have been peculiarly liable to
+destruction by fire; and, at the time that the spectacle we have faintly
+sketched might have been witnessed, the chances of war were at least two
+to one against its determined British inhabitants. Nor should it be
+forgotten, that nearly the whole of the property in this city was owned
+by these British inhabitants; was the fruits of many years of their
+honest toil; and as it is well known that policies of insurance do not
+cover losses occasioned by the Queen’s enemies, the loss to them might
+have been total had it been burned.
+
+These British inhabitants of Montreal, therefore, without a moment’s
+hesitation, in an indefensible city, and with the chances of war as two
+to one against them, willingly and even cheerfully perilled their lives,
+their families, their hearths, their property, their all, to uphold the
+flag of England.
+
+In the month of October last, upwards of twelve hundred persons, in the
+space of a few days—one half of whom were the very men who acted in 1838
+as we have described—openly and deliberately called upon their fellow
+colonists to haul down the flag of Britain upon the continent of
+America; and coupled that request with another, that the flag of a rival
+power should be put up in its stead.
+
+Now what are the causes of this most extraordinary change? What is it
+which has exerted so powerful an influence, as to have caused men
+capable of making the noblest sacrifices to uphold the institutions of
+their forefathers at one time, capable of making such attempts to
+destroy them at another? We answer, emphatically, it was free trade and
+its attendant philosophy. It was the injuries it inflicted upon the
+colonies—not in the spirit of national compromise or mutual sacrifices,
+but in the spirit of the giant using the giant’s power. It was the
+lessons, too, that accompanied the injuries. It was the obliterating the
+love of country in the pursuits of avarice. It was the ruinous latitude
+that free-trade philosophy had to allow to others, in claiming the same
+for its own disciples.
+
+To those who have closely observed the opinions expressed regarding the
+colonies, in the debates upon free trade, little need be said to prove
+that the Manchester school of politicians not only considered their
+connexion with Britain as of no importance, but as actually undesirable
+in itself. There was no attempt made at harmonising interests with them.
+There was no intention expressed of making sacrifices for them, and
+incidentally, as we shall show, for England. There was no respect paid
+to their love of Britain; for loyalty is not a word in the free-trade
+catalogue. But there was a studious and intentional under-rating and
+disparaging of them and their country, to subserve the free-trade cause,
+and to destroy the force that the argument of their ruin might possibly
+have upon the people of England. They were made the subject too of cold,
+mercenary calculations, which were enough to insult them into sedition,
+and to disgust them out of their connexion with the mother country. When
+the disastrous effect that the loss of a protection, to the benefits of
+which they had been educated by England for fifty years, and to which
+the whole business arrangements of their country were as much adapted
+and which they as much required as the very crops in their ground
+required sunshine and rain—when these were pointed out in England, how
+were they met by the free-trade leaders? Was it not by cold calculations
+of how much they consumed per head of this, and how much they consumed,
+in comparison with the rest of the world, of that; and how much they
+cost for this, and how little they required of that; until, by some
+strange mystification of arithmetic, they were made out to be an actual
+injury to England. And had the colonies the satisfaction, if they must
+needs be injured and crippled, of knowing that one single individual
+connected with the free-trade movement had the justice to regret the
+injury that was being perpetrated against them, and to say, that England
+would endeavour to retrieve it in some other way? We believe we are
+justified in saying there was not one. The vilification of the colonies
+was an argument in favour of free trade, and they were vilified. And
+when the consequences of free trade upon the colonies have been alluded
+to; when the shops which had been built, in expectation of the
+agricultural interests of the country being stimulated as they had
+formerly been, and large quantities of land being taken up and cleared,
+as was formerly the case—when these shops became unrequired and useless;
+when store-houses, and wharves, and vessels, and steamers, which, before
+free trade came into operation, were full of activity, life, and
+business, became as so much dead property on the hands of their owners,
+and the people connected with them had to seek a livelihood by other
+means, and in other places than the colonies: when these disastrous
+consequences of free trade were experienced and pointed out, how were
+they also met? how were they regarded, and were the colonists
+sympathised with on account of them? They were spoken of and accounted
+for, by the free-trade leaders, in a spirit similar to the following
+paragraph—in a spirit of exaggerated detraction, instead of national
+sympathy and management. And we put it to the candour of the English
+public, if the succeeding remarks of the _Daily News_ are not a fair
+sample of the manner in which the party that paper represents are in the
+habit of speaking of the colonies:—
+
+
+  “The argument of the Montreal traders is: ‘The Americans are more
+  prosperous than we. If our territory was incorporated into the Union,
+  we would be as prosperous as the Americans.’ The fallacy of this
+  argument is obvious to dispassionate lookers-on. The superior
+  prosperity of the Americans was as marked when the late Mr Stuart
+  visited Canada and the United States as it is now. It has not
+  originated in the change of British mercantile policy. It has all
+  along been owing to the superior energy and enterprise of the
+  Americans. The Canadians were listless, relying upon protection in the
+  British market; the Americans were active, because they had only their
+  own enterprise to rely upon. The Americans, in the position of the
+  Canadians, are not afraid of free competition. The stronghold of the
+  protectionist party in America is in the sea-board manufacturing
+  states. If the Canadians would be as prosperous as the Americans, they
+  must become as active and enterprising as the Americans. The
+  self-government of the people of the United States promoted the spirit
+  of enterprise; but, for all essential purposes, Canadians now enjoy
+  that spring of energy. Canada annexed to the United States would
+  advance more rapidly than Canada under its former close government and
+  protective system did; but the advance would be the work of, and its
+  profits would be reaped by, the hardy emigrants from the United
+  States. The dreamers who think that their prosperity depends upon
+  their being subject to this or the other government, not upon their
+  own exertions, would be driven to the wall before the new-comers.
+  Their individual plight, be that of the province what it might, would
+  be worse than ever.”
+
+
+Now, that the deductions and statements in this paragraph—if they are
+intended to apply to the state of Canada before as well as after free
+trade, and they certainly seem so intended—are as untrue, ungenerous,
+and unjust, towards the colonists—towards the hardy, persevering, and
+hard-working people of Great Britain in them—as they are grossly
+misrepresentative and unfair with respect to the prosperity of the
+country—we here undertake and pledge ourselves to the reader
+satisfactorily to prove.
+
+We are no enemies to the American States; and in the incidental
+references we have had occasion to make to them, in the course of our
+papers upon the colonies, we have candidly and fully admitted their
+extraordinary advancement; we have conceded to the fullest the great
+impetus their peculiar working of the institutions of Britain—for this
+is in reality the true state of the case—has imparted to human progress.
+But we are practically and well acquainted with their agricultural
+interests, and with much of their great country, and with the comforts
+and prosperity enjoyed and gained by its farmers; and we are also well
+and practically acquainted with the whole of Upper Canada, and we assert
+without fear of question by any man in America who understands the
+matter, that, in period of settlement, and prosperity to show for it; in
+crops raised from the land, and evidences of good management and good
+farming; in stock proving comfort and plenty; in houses, carriages,
+dress; in all that establishes that an agricultural people are easy in
+their circumstances, and are enjoying comfort and plenty—the farmers of
+Upper Canada are behind none in any part of the United States, and are
+before them in many.
+
+Now, London, as all the world knows, is a great leviathan city; but its
+being so does not prove that individual comfort, happiness, and
+prosperity are greater in it than they are in many a small town in
+England. The United States, too, have vastly more territory than Upper
+Canada has; have many larger and more bustling cities, and have finer
+and more gorgeous steamers; but this does not prove, more than London
+does as respects England, that this larger territory brings greater
+prosperity, health, and comfort, to the farmers in it, than Canada does;
+that the business in the larger and bustling cities is more healthy, or
+more profitable, than that which is the legitimate offspring of the
+people’s wants in Canada; or that the gorgeous steamers pay better, or
+are better, than those which are adapted to the purposes, and are
+admirably suited to the conveniences and comforts, of the agricultural
+population of the Canadas. The question therefore, to any man who has
+settled in either country, or who wishes to do so, is not how much
+larger one’s territory is over that of the other, but which secures, and
+has secured, the greater amount of benefits and prosperity for the same
+amount of labour and capital invested in it; and which has by experience
+been proved to be the most desirable place for man to live in? Now, that
+the only interest which Great Britain has ever fostered or encouraged in
+America, and indeed the only interest which, with her policy of
+manufacturing for the colonies, she has allowed to grow up in
+them—namely, their agricultural interest—was not in Canada, before free
+trade withered it, behind its state in any part of America; and that the
+Canadas as a country were before any portion of it, we adduce the
+conclusive and unquestionable proof, that, distributed over the last
+thirty years, twenty-five thousand shrewd and sagacious American
+citizens have left the institutions that they so much prized, have
+foregone the temptations of their magnificent prairies and valleys that
+the world has heard so much of, and have taken leave of all their fine
+and prosperous cities, to take up their abode in Upper Canada. As
+equally conclusive evidence that the legitimate business of the province
+was, in proportion to the requirements of the country, always in a
+healthy and prosperous state, we adduce the fact of the invariable
+success in every branch of business that they ever engaged in, in Upper
+Canada, of these same American citizens. And we here state it as a fact
+that will not be denied by a single American farmer in the province,
+that, before free trade prostrated its agricultural interests, there was
+not a single farmer, American or of other country—with the exception of
+the time of the rebellion in 1837–8—who would have been willing to
+exchange his property for similar property in any part of the whole
+United States. And does not, in truth, the fact that these Americans
+came and settled in the province, under their circumstances, and with
+their feelings of regard for their own institutions, prove that this
+must have been the case? And does not the fact of these men carrying
+with them the same energy and industry into Canada that their friends
+were possessed of in the States, prove, that in everything that marked
+the success of labour in a generous land, Canada could not have been
+behind the rest of America? But it is a well-known fact, as the
+Americans quaintly observe of themselves, “that they do not love to work
+as well as the English, Irish, and Scotch do.” They are, as a nation,
+given to speculating; and an American farmer or mechanic would rather at
+any time make a dollar by a “trade,” than he would two by hard work. So
+that, in the march of improvement in agriculture in the Canadas, and in
+the growth of wealth, these American settlers are by no means before
+their Canadian neighbours; and, excepting where they have combined some
+business with their farming, they have not wherewithal to show that they
+have equally prospered with them. Now, these are facts—facts whose force
+and justice will not be questioned by a single individual in America who
+understands the matter; and we state them, not only with the view of
+vindicating our own countrymen against the injustice of those who
+wilfully or ignorantly underrate their exertions and the success that
+has attended their labours, but we state them to save the Americans
+themselves from unjust and unfair comparisons, and in defence of one of
+the finest countries that a beneficent Creator ever spread out before
+needy humanity—a country teeming with unappropriated wealth; with a
+climate pure, bracing, and adapted to the largest development of the
+best energies of man, and with millions of openings for poverty to raise
+itself out of the ashes of its degradation; and for capital to reproduce
+itself to an extent unheard of in Europe.
+
+Now the people living adjacent to Lake Windermere might just as well be
+supposed to be an inert, unprosperous race, because their beautiful
+little lake has fewer steamers, and sailing craft, and bustle upon it,
+than the Thames exhibits near London, as the people of the Canadas, in
+comfort and prosperity, can be said to be behind those of the States,
+because their towns have less bustle, and their waters fewer steamers
+and less trade upon them. The Canadas have been, and are, a purely
+agricultural country; and it is in this respect only they can be
+compared with the rest of America. Their trade and business is, and
+could only have been, such as naturally grew out of their other
+interests. If that trade and business was, though less bustling than
+that of the States, as it naturally would be from its character, healthy
+and paying, no man could expect more of it. Have we not fairly proved
+that it must have been so? But if any traveller wishes to judge truly
+and justly of Upper Canada and the States, he must not skim over their
+borders, and be deceived by the superficial glare. He must learn the
+intrinsic value of the thing itself, by going into the interior of the
+country. He must see men plough. He must see how deep they plough, and
+what sort of cattle they plough with, and how hard they work. He must
+examine the farmers’ houses, and learn how they are finished, furnished,
+and provisioned. He must hover round their barn-yards, and linger along
+their fences. He must witness their harvests, and be fortunate enough
+occasionally to be their guests. He must make his observations on their
+children; and we would excuse him even coming a little closer to their
+young women, although it would be hardly fair to expect him to judge
+impartially under such circumstances. But let any man of intelligence do
+this with regard to the farmers of Upper Canada, and of any portion of
+the American States—we care not which—and if he does not find that
+industry has secured as large rewards, and the farmers have as many
+comforts, in the British possessions as the American, he is at liberty
+to say that our upwards of seventeen years’ practical experience in them
+has been of no use to us; or, to use the words of an American friend of
+ours upon the subject, “we might be inclined to recommend his friends
+not to trust him very far away from home again.”
+
+But now we would put it to the proverbial sense of justice and fairness
+of the people of England, if the calling such men “listless, relying
+upon protection in the British market,” is a fair way of treating them,
+after educating them to the benefits of that protection; and after
+checking the manufacturing interests that might have grown up in the
+colonies, and placed them on a par with the States, for the express
+benefit of the manufacturing interests of Britain? Men who built
+vessels, and store-houses, and purchased property in the colonies, upon
+the faith that England, having established the system of manufacturing
+for them, would continue that of discriminating in their favour in her
+markets, have now not only their property in ruin on their hands, but
+they are abused because it is in ruins. Farmers who, as we have shown,
+and as no man in America will deny, have worked hard, and have
+wherewithal to show for it—have achieved that which is no less a credit
+to themselves than it is to the country they came from—are vilified
+because they complain that England’s policy, in destroying manufacturing
+interests in the colonies, has deprived them of a home market such as
+the farmers of the United States have got; and England’s free-trade
+system, in destroying so much, and injuring so much more property, in
+the colonies, has involved them in the general depression and
+retrogression. The plain English, and the plain truth of the whole
+matter, is this—that the free-trade leaders of England, having
+sacrificed the colonies, are desirous of making their former history
+harmonise with the picture of the injury and ruin they have brought upon
+them. But we trust that we have established, to the satisfaction of
+every honest man, what we promised we should—namely, that the attempt is
+no less unjust and unfair to the colonists, to their industry, and to
+their perseverance, than it is to the country they came from—its
+institutions, and its patient, cheerful, and successful labour.
+
+We have dwelt somewhat at length upon this matter; and for two reasons.
+The first is, because the reiteration of the same, or similar remarks
+and reflections as those contained in the extract we have made from the
+_Daily News_, has given a false impression, both in England and America,
+of the true state of the Canadas. People, forgetting that they were
+settled—at least the great province of Upper Canada was—by the very same
+people who have settled the greater portion of the States, and by whose
+labour these States have become what they are—people in England,
+unknowingly or unthinkingly, have been led to associate the inhabitants
+of the colonies with ideas of listlessness, inertness, and poverty,
+when, in truth, on the whole continent of America, there is not a
+hardier or a steadier working people, or a people whose success,
+independence, and comfort would afford a better example to the poor of
+Europe. The locomotives by which the farmers of Canada should be judged
+of, after all, are their waggons and their teams. The bustle which best
+shows their prosperity, is the bustle of their harvest fields. The
+business which gives the best proof of success to the world, is that
+which can show good balance-sheets, and few bankruptcies. Now, before
+free trade overtook the prosperity of these colonies, we can, with the
+most perfect safety, challenge any and all America to show a better
+state of things in all these several branches of their business and
+interests, than the province of Upper Canada did and could exhibit. We
+have felt that we owed it to this great province, to this province which
+might, and we trust will, be made a great right arm of Britain’s power
+and empire, to say thus much in its defence. We owed it to the manly and
+hard-working people of England, Ireland, and Scotland, who have settled
+in it, and whose industry and skill have made many parts of it the very
+gardens of America, to shield them against the unjust representations
+that have been sent abroad to the world concerning them, and that have
+been the more galling, because they have emanated from home and friends.
+Our other reason for going into this matter so fully, is to ask, at this
+important juncture, how it is possible to expect that these colonists
+will or can continue loyal to Britain long, with vilification and
+detraction thus added to the injuries that they have so unquestionably
+and undeniably suffered? They point to their vessels lying unused, and
+rotting in their harbours; and they point to the lands of the province
+not being taken up as they used to be, and those that are cleared not
+paying for the labour of tilling them: and they ask themselves, and they
+ask America, and they ask England,—Why is it so? And all answer—Free
+trade will not make it pay to clear the lands; free trade will not make
+it pay to till the lands; free trade has knocked Canadian farming on the
+head. Yet free trade, upon hearing this, turns round and asserts it to
+be all false, and says that the vessels are decaying because the
+Canadians are too indolent to use them, although they have nothing to
+carry. Free trade says, that the stagnation of the country, and the
+indisposition of people to settle in it, are owing to the country’s own
+backwardness, are the result of its inertness; whereas we have shown
+that its people, of all others on earth, least deserve such injustice
+and insults at the hands of England. Free trade, when driven—for it
+sometimes is—to admit that it must inevitably separate Great Britain
+from her colonies, then turns round, and charges the colonies with being
+an expense and an injury to England. Yet, after all this, free trade
+expects the colonies to continue loyal to England. Free trade affects to
+be shocked at the effects of the storm which itself palpably, and in a
+thousand ways, sowed. Free trade having sickened, weakened, and struck
+down the colonies, now literally stands over them, taunting them with
+the effects of its own medicines, and, at the same time, affects to
+wonder that they should be sick or depressed.
+
+That these effects of free trade upon the colonies have been foreseen
+and accurately judged of by the shrewd and far-seeing mind of America,
+we may show, by quoting the opinions in point of the great leading
+journal of the New England States. This journal, the _Boston Atlas_,
+like many of the leading papers in Britain, is occasionally contributed
+to by the leading statesmen of the great Whig party in America; and as
+we happen to know that the article from which we quote was written by a
+gentleman who commands a wide and powerful influence as a statesman and
+political economist in the States, his views may be considered entitled
+to the greater attention in England:—
+
+
+  “We have said that Canada has been deliberately sacrificed; and we
+  have too high an opinion of the intelligence of the British ministry
+  not to suppose that, when they made the sacrifice, they foresaw the
+  probable ultimate result. We do not believe that they will be
+  surprised at the movements which are now taking place, or that they
+  will think of making serious resistance to any step which the
+  Provinces may decide to take—whether it be for annexation or
+  independence—though we have no doubt the latter would best suit their
+  views, for grave reasons upon which we do not now think it necessary
+  to expatiate.
+
+  “As matters now stand, Canada is an agricultural State, paying for all
+  the manufactures she consumes in the raw productions of the earth. She
+  has been but a very short time in this position, and yet she already
+  groans under the free-trade experiment. Her wants are the same; but
+  the more timber and corn she exports, the less she gets for them.
+  Instead of growing rich under this beneficent free-trade system, she
+  is every day getting poorer. She has had enough of free trade, and is
+  anxiously seeking some way of escape from it. Such is ever the
+  inevitable result, when the attempt is made to pay for manufactures
+  with raw productions; and the longer it is continued, the worse will
+  be the situation of the agricultural state.
+
+  “Can she mend her position by adopting the proposed ‘Remedy?’ If her
+  representatives in parliament happen to be the true representatives of
+  her interests—which is very far from certain—and if they can persuade
+  the government to restore the bounty upon her timber and corn—the
+  answer is, yes. But we see little chance of that, for the situation of
+  Canada is perfectly well known now by that same government; her case
+  has been examined in all its bearings, and she has been deliberately
+  sacrificed to ‘free trade,’—in other words, to the manufacturing
+  interest of Great Britain; and it will take something more than the
+  eloquence of a few Canadian orators, admitted to seats in parliament,
+  to induce that interest to reconsider her case, or to yield a
+  hair’s-breadth to her claims. She has not been sacrificed through
+  ignorance, but because she stood in the way of a great theory. She
+  will look in vain to this source for relief. But if the proposed
+  consolidation should cause British capital to cross the water and set
+  up manufacturing establishments, would not the end be gained? Perhaps
+  so. Of this, however, the chance is small, unless labour is as cheap
+  in Canada as it is in England, which it never can be until the United
+  States, ceasing to afford any protection to labour, become parties to
+  the Free Trade League, and so bring all the labour of North America
+  down to the level of the labour of Europe. Such a suicidal system can
+  never be permanently established here, and, therefore, we look upon
+  this second source of relief as equally visionary with the
+  first.”—_Boston Atlas._
+
+
+We had purposed showing that, in addition to the free trade party in
+England’s having literally endeavoured to injure and insult the colonies
+out of their allegiance to their mother country, they have also been
+educating them, by their speeches in parliament and otherwise, to the
+same end. But we trust that we have already proved enough to satisfy any
+man, not unwilling to believe the truth, that if some men in the
+colonies have fallen from their high estate, they have but taken the
+course that the free-trade policy of England left open to them; the
+course that that policy, if not intentionally, at least inevitably, must
+sooner or later compel them to take. If, therefore, England thinks that
+those men in the colonies who have looked towards another government
+have acted unworthily of themselves and of her, let her lay the blame at
+once on those who compelled them to take to the boats by making the ship
+no longer a home for them. If their love for their great and glorious
+mother country has diminished, it is only, and it is solely, because the
+nutriment which supported the affection has been poisoned by men who
+have ruled the councils of England. Yet, injured though they were, and
+galled and insulted though they unquestionably have been, to palliate
+and to justify that injury, still, we believe that the loyalists would
+have looked beyond the sway of the free-trade party over England; would
+have been willing to trust to England’s justice eventually doing justice
+to them, had it not been for the lessons which we have already referred
+to as having been diffused by free-trade philosophy with free trade
+itself. It is the colonists being practically told, that those who ruled
+the councils of the empire would do the best they could for themselves,
+and that they must and might do likewise, that made the inroads upon
+their loyalty. It is the utter absence of the spirit of compromise—of a
+disposition to make a single sacrifice, or to harmonise a single
+interest, either to preserve the empire or to save it from humiliation,
+by the free-trade party of England, that has taught the colonists
+selfishness sufficient to make them say that they would leave Britain
+behind for “material interests;” that they too had allowed all memories
+of the past to be obliterated in the struggles and aspirations of
+avarice. Let England contrast the conduct of these colonies twelve years
+ago with what it is now. Let her ask those who have been willing to
+forego their connexion with her destiny, and the glory and the safety of
+her protection, what it is that causes them to do so; and they will
+answer, to a man, it is the teachings and the effects of free trade.
+These lessons have been falling upon the colonial mind for years, like
+water upon a rock, and they have worn seams and made impressions upon
+it, that the swords of many enemies in many years could not have
+effected.
+
+But we have now arrived at a point when that plain and straightforward
+question, common to Englishmen to ask, may be put to us—and that is,
+What is to be done with the colonies, situated as they are? Connected
+with this, too, is another question, equally necessary to be answered,
+which is—What is Great Britain likely to lose, in possessions, people,
+and character, with the Canadas, if she loses them?
+
+With regard to the latter question, which, as it is suggestive of the
+consequences to be provided against, it may be better to consider before
+that which is suggestive of a remedy—it seems clear enough to us, that
+the loss of all the North American colonies would inevitably follow that
+of the Canadas. The situation of all of them is the same. Free trade has
+affected them nearly equally; and it is a significant fact, that the
+agitation upon the subject of “annexation,” without concert, common
+interests, or agreement, commenced in all the provinces simultaneously,
+though not to the same extent in some as in others. But, apart from
+this, if the great province of Upper Canada should take leave of
+Britain, the following of the others would be as natural as the limbs
+following the dictates of the head. It is indeed useless to waste words
+upon a matter that is perfectly self-evident; for if the Canadas
+separate from Britain, it must and will go forth to the world, that they
+had to do so in order to prosper; and all the colonies being
+dissatisfied, and chafing under the same mortifications, and suffering
+the same injuries from England’s free-trade policy, would claim, upon
+the same grounds, to be relieved of the withering shadow of her power in
+America. However uncomplimentary or unjust this may or might be, such
+will be the opinion of the world, and Great Britain must prepare to meet
+it, or to counteract what will occasion it. As misfortunes, too, do not
+come single with a nation more than with an individual, the West Indian
+possessions would assuredly follow the North American; and would
+certainly not give any more complimentary reasons for doing so. Great
+Britain would therefore stand forth before the rest of her colonies and
+the world, as having utterly and humiliatingly failed to govern those
+she lost with that success which ought to result from her free
+institutions, and the freedom of her people. Now this momentous
+consideration is clearly bound up with that of what she is to do with
+the Canadas. Now, will Great Britain—by whatsoever cause or policy they
+may justify their claim for separation, or by whatsoever party in
+England it may be or may have been favoured—permit the Canadas to shake
+off her power, with these consequences palpably before her eyes? Will
+she not the rather prefer coming back to that best of all systems—mutual
+sacrifices for common good, and mutual concessions for national
+integrity and destiny? Will she not rather endeavour to impart to them
+that capital and those people, which would benefit her much, and make
+them rich indeed? We think so; and we think she will, because we know
+she can devise a plan for doing so, and for governing them in a manner
+that will not be attended with the mortifications that have accrued to
+both the colonists and the mother country, from all former patchings and
+props to a constitutionally bad colonial system. Thinking this, we shall
+now proceed briefly to consider—for in the space we have at our command,
+it would be impossible fully to show—what great Britain would lose, in
+possessions, by losing the Canadas. In this we shall be obliged to lay
+under tribute a short but interesting sketch of the Canadas, their value
+and extent, by the late Charles Fothergill. He spent many years in the
+colonies; knew them well; and his opinions are those of an intelligent
+English gentleman, who saw, and made himself practically and thoroughly
+acquainted with what he wrote concerning
+
+
+  “THE CANADAS.
+
+  “The geographical position of this vast country may be thus generally
+  stated:—It is bounded on the east by the Gulf of St Lawrence and
+  Labrador; on the north by the territories of Hudson’s Bay; on the west
+  by the Pacific Ocean; on the south by Indian countries, which extend
+  to Mexico, and part of the United States of America—viz., Wisconsin,
+  Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, Vermont,
+  New Hampshire, the district of Maine, and by the British province of
+  New Brunswick. These boundaries describe a large and magnificent
+  portion of the globe we inhabit, large enough for the foundation of an
+  empire, which may become hereafter the arbitress of the destinies of
+  the new world, embracing with her mighty arms the whole width of the
+  great continent of America. Secured in her rear by the frozen regions
+  of the north, and with such a front as she possesses towards the
+  south, it is impossible but that, with the adoption of wise and
+  decisive measures, she must be able, hereafter, to hold a far more
+  potential influence over the countries of the south, than was ever
+  held by the Tartars, (in their best days,) over Asia; or by the
+  northern hordes of Europe over the empire of Rome, at the period of
+  her overthrow. The foundation stone of this empire has been laid by
+  England, and it depends on the wisdom of her councils, and on the
+  loyalty, ambition, temper, skill, industry, bravery, high qualities,
+  and perseverance of the Canadians, no matter of what origin, how far
+  the fairy vision which is kindled up in fancy may be realised.
+
+  “We have only to cast our eyes slightly over a map of North America,
+  to be immediately assured of the singularly advantageous situation of
+  the settled parts of Upper Canada. Seated like a gem in the bosom of a
+  country that is neither scorched by the sultry summers of the south,
+  nor blasted by the tardy, bitter, winters of the north; surrounded by
+  the most magnificent lakes, and possessing the most extensive internal
+  navigation in the known world, it would be difficult, perhaps
+  impossible, to find in any other region of the globe a tract of
+  country of the same magnitude with so many natural advantages, as that
+  part of Upper Canada which lies between the Lakes Ontario, Erie, and
+  Huron, and the Ottawa, or Grand River, nine-tenths of the whole extent
+  of which are calculated for the exercise of almost every description
+  of agricultural labour, and with such a prospect of success as,
+  perhaps, no other part of this continent could realise. A part of this
+  tract of country, commencing in the neighbourhood of Kingston, and
+  running westward nearly 500 miles to the Sandwich frontier, by a
+  depth, northward, of from 40 to 100 miles, is, alone, capable of
+  supplying all Europe with grain; besides being rich in cattle, and
+  producing silver, lead, copper, iron, lime, marl, gypsum, marble,
+  freestone, coal, salt, wool, hemp and flax, of the best quality,
+  tobacco and timber of every description, besides furs, game, fish, and
+  many other valuable productions.
+
+  Much has been said, at a distance, against the climate of this fine
+  country. Those, however, who have removed to it from Great Britain are
+  agreeably disappointed in finding it more pleasant, (all things
+  considered,) than that which they have left, because it is neither so
+  moist nor so unsettled. It might be said, with no great impropriety,
+  that the present inhabitants of Canada have but two seasons—summer and
+  winter—for winter has no sooner disappeared, which generally happens
+  by the middle of April, than the whole animal and vegetable creation
+  starts into renewed life, with a rapidity and vigour that leaves the
+  season of spring with such doubtful limits as to be scarcely
+  perceptible, or deserving a specific character. Again, in the fall of
+  the year, the months of September and October are generally so fine
+  and summerlike, and these being succeeded by what is aptly termed the
+  Indian summer, in November, (that month which is so gloomy in England,
+  and said to be so fatal to Englishmen,) that we should have great
+  difficulty, were it not for an artificial calendar, in saying when it
+  was autumn. As a proof of the general nature of our climate, and to
+  show that we have other sources of wealth, by the exercise of domestic
+  industry, in store, it must not be here forgotten that the culture of
+  both cotton and indigo has been attempted, on a small scale, in the
+  western district, with success; that the various species of Mulberry,
+  necessary for the growth of silk, flourish under the care of those who
+  have made the experiment in the London and western districts; that
+  vineyards may be advantageously laid out; and the hop is found in
+  perfection almost everywhere. It may be readily supposed that, in such
+  a vast extent of country, every description of soil, and every variety
+  of surface, as to mountains, hills, valleys, and plains, must occur.
+  Speaking of the inhabited parts of Canada, the Lower Province is the
+  most mountainous, and the Upper the most level and champagne; indeed,
+  from the division line on Lake St Francis to Sandwich, a distance of
+  nearly six hundred miles, nothing like a mountain occurs, although the
+  greater part of the country which is passed through, between those
+  places, is gently undulated into pleasing hills, fine slopes, and
+  fertile valleys. There is, however, a ridge of rocky and generally
+  barren country, running south-easterly from Lake Huron, through the
+  Newcastle district, towards the Ottawa, or Grand River, at the
+  distance of from 50 to 100 miles from the northern shore of Lake
+  Ontario, and the course of the River St Lawrence; a ridge which
+  divides and directs the course of innumerable streams, those on one
+  side running to the northward or north-east, whilst those on the other
+  run to the southward, and empty themselves into Lake Ontario or the
+  River St Lawrence. The base of this ridge has an elevation of not much
+  less than 200 feet above the level of Ontario, and it is rich in
+  silver, lead, copper, and iron, and near the Lake Marmora, in white
+  marble. In the neighbourhood of Gunanoque, a beautifully variegated
+  marble of green and yellow is found; and, in the vicinity of Kingston,
+  there is an immense bed of black and also gray marble.
+
+  “Farther to the north, beyond the French River, which falls into Lake
+  Huron, are immense mountains, some of them of great elevation. Many of
+  the mountains which describe the great valley of the St Lawrence, are
+  from 2000 to 3000 feet above the level of the river; and that part of
+  the chain which approaches the city of Quebec, on the northern side of
+  the river, is worthy the attention of the geologist; and, in a
+  particular manner, of the mineralogist, from the hope there is every
+  reason to entertain that these mountains yield several rare and
+  valuable kinds of earth for pigments, which may hereafter become
+  articles of commerce. When in Quebec, some years ago, the writer of
+  this sketch was shown several fine specimens, in the seminary of that
+  city, which had been procured in those mountains at no great distance
+  from Quebec; amongst which may be mentioned a rich brown resembling
+  the Vandyke brown of artists; a yellow, equal to that of Naples, and
+  an extraordinary fine blue, of a tint between that of indigo and the
+  costly ultramarine. The subject is mentioned in this place with a view
+  of exciting further inquiry and experiment; because, at present, the
+  artists and colourmen of London are principally supplied with their
+  most valuable pigments from Italy. A scientific gentleman who has
+  lately explored the coast of Labrador, and the Gulf of St Lawrence,
+  was very successful in his mineralogical pursuits, particularly in the
+  neighbourhood of Gaspé, from whence he obtained some new, and many
+  valuable and beautiful specimens of the quartz family—including a
+  great variety of cornelians, agates, opals, and jaspers; several of
+  which have been cut into useful or ornamental articles at Quebec. From
+  Labrador the same gentleman brought several large and beautiful
+  specimens of the spar so peculiar to that coast, and which is commonly
+  known by the name of Labrador spar, of a brilliant cornelian or
+  ultramarine tint, with others of a green, yellow, red, and one or two
+  of a singularly fine pearl-gray colour. These specimens were found at
+  Mingan, imbedded in a rock of granite.
+
+  “It may give a just idea of the general richness of the soil to state,
+  that we have frequently heard of instances where 50 bushels of wheat
+  per acre have been produced on a farm, even where the stumps (which
+  would probably occupy one eighth of the surface of the field) have not
+  been eradicated; and, in the district of Newcastle, many examples may
+  be found wherein wheat has been raised on the same ground for 16 or 18
+  years successively, without the application of manure! The general
+  average of the returns of wheat crops, however, throughout Upper
+  Canada, is probably not more than 25 bushels per acre, owing to the
+  space occupied by stumps, and the indifferent skill of some of the
+  farmers. The winter wheats are found to be the most productive, and
+  they weigh the heaviest: the best seldom exceeds 64 lb. or 65 lb., to
+  the Winchester bushel, although we have known several instances of
+  higher weights.
+
+  “Of Indian corn or maize, from 60 to 80 bushels per acre is not an
+  uncommon return; and of pumpkins, of the largest kinds, we have
+  instances of more than a cwt. being produced from a single seed. But
+  there cannot be a more certain indication of the depth and richness of
+  the soil than the fine growth of the timber which it produces; and we
+  have not unfrequently measured particular trees of that species of
+  white oak, which grows in low moist places, and which is usually
+  called swamp oak, that gave circumferences of sixteen to seventeen and
+  eighteen feet, and an altitude of from thirty to forty, and even fifty
+  feet to the first bough. And we have more than once, on the rich lands
+  to the northward of Rice Lake, found white pine trees, that give a
+  diameter of five feet, and altitude of two hundred! These are facts
+  that determine at once the depth, richness, and vegetative power of
+  the soil, since those giants of the forest are not nourished solely by
+  the heavens which they pierce, but also by the earth from whence they
+  spring.
+
+  “Vegetation is so rapid in this country, that barley sown in July has
+  been reaped in the second week of September, for several years
+  successively, and on land that was deemed poor and exhausted; and a
+  more abundant crop has been seldom witnessed.
+
+  “From every observation and experiment that has been made, no doubt
+  can be entertained of the great fertility of the soil of this fine
+  country. Not only does every vegetable production which thrives in
+  similar latitudes in Europe prosper here, but others, which require
+  either greater heat or greater care, are found to succeed in Canada,
+  without any particular attention. The finest melons and cucumbers are
+  brought to perfection in the open fields, and tobacco is cultivated
+  with success. Even the wild grapes become ripe by the first or second
+  week in September; so that there is every reason to believe, if
+  vineyards were cultivated, the inhabitants of this country might add a
+  variety of choice wines to their list of articles of home consumption,
+  and of foreign trade. We have drunk of wine very nearly resembling,
+  and but little inferior to, that of Oporto, which was made from the
+  common wild grape of the country.”
+
+
+Now, we have already shown the prosperity that has attended labour in
+these provinces, and the comfort and independence that is enjoyed by
+their farmers. Few readers in England—at least it is to be hoped there
+are few—have not read something of the life and prosperity of the
+thousands who are annually taking possession of the vast prairies of the
+western states and the valley of the Mississippi. We have shown that, by
+the most adventurous and the shrewdest people in the world, the Canadas
+have been preferred to them. If England had the world to select from,
+she could not desire a finer country for her poor to prosper in, or for
+her poor gentlemen to strike out for themselves in, and to work where
+labour is honoured, and where its rewards are the only titles that the
+people lay claim to. We have, after some pains and calculation, arrived
+at the conclusion, that at least five millions of additional inhabitants
+can, by agricultural pursuits alone, prosper, in a manner unknown in
+Europe, in the province of Upper Canada; not by the hundreds perpetually
+toiling for the tens, but by the hundreds having an opportunity, from
+the prodigious extent of the country, of becoming, by industry and
+management, the lords of their own, and that an abundant, share of the
+soil. Now, will Great Britain let it go forth to the world, that she
+cannot keep her flag floating over this great country in prosperity and
+peace? We think not. But will she do what may be necessary to make it to
+her what it ought to be? and make herself to it what she might, and
+should be? We think she will; and we shall now, in so far as our short
+space will admit of, point out what the country has suffered from, and
+what it requires to make it a credit to England, and a support to her
+power, instead of being a source of mortification to her, and an
+inglorious field for the employment of her troops.
+
+The country’s whole wants may be comprised in few words. It wants
+population—not paupers, without industry, or anything left to engraft a
+manly pride upon; but people that the country is by nature adapted to
+benefit, and who are by nature adapted to benefit it. It wants capital,
+nationality, stability in its institutions, and peace.
+
+Now, will the people of England, under the present colonial system,
+which has from the very first been marked by broils, misunderstandings,
+and commotions—which have always undermined the credit of the colonies,
+which are now worse than ever, and which must soon lead to something
+worse still, (for paroxysms such as they have must change for the
+better, or the state of the patient will become hopeless,)—will the
+people of England, then, who have anything to lose, and who wish to live
+in peace, settle in the Canadas in this state of things; and in this
+state of hopes, too? We think not.
+
+The same reasons which would prevent people settling in the colonies,
+would likewise prevent capital being invested in them; so that, under
+the present system, there can be no rational hope entertained of the
+colonies having much, if any, capital invested in them.
+
+This brings us to the consideration, then, of this other great and
+principal want, upon which, in fact, all the others are mainly
+founded—namely, a nationality and stability in their institutions. We
+have already, in the October number of the Magazine, pointed out at some
+length, that these can only be properly and effectually acquired by the
+colonists being represented in the Imperial Legislature, and raised to
+the standard, in fact, of British subjects. We have shown—and every
+event and circumstance that has transpired since has confirmed us in the
+opinion—that it is only by this that the colonies can be, or, indeed,
+ought to be, connected with Great Britain. They can never otherwise have
+the stamp of permanency put upon their institutions. They can never
+otherwise command that credit in the world which they are justly
+entitled to. But, above all, they can never otherwise make their
+property and worth known to England, or to the world, in such a way as
+to secure that attention to it which is absolutely indispensable to the
+legitimate prosperity of the country.
+
+We have left ourselves comparatively little space to say much, in
+addition to what we said in October, upon this great question. It may in
+the end, however, be mainly resolved into this—Would it be better to
+have intelligent colonists representing and making known their own
+interests in Great Britain, than to have incompetent governors sent out
+to the colonies, to keep them in constant broils among themselves, and
+in constant collision with the colonial office in England? We are but
+too well assured that it would be better. And in forming these great
+colonies into an empire, which Great Britain must do if she does them
+justice, and which indeed will be done with or without Britain,—the race
+that inhabits them must, in the very nature of things, be and become
+what they ought to be. But if Great Britain will but undertake to do so,
+can any man say that no questions could arise in that empire’s growth
+and maturity, upon which her wisdom, experience, and mind might not
+exert a salutary influence? Or can any person, willing to take a broad
+view of this great question and country, continue in the belief that it
+should be, or ought to be crippled, or have its growth longer stunted?
+
+Probably one of the most galling circumstances connected with colonial
+residence and birth, is the constantly seeing and feeling that colonial
+mind is underrated by England; for no other reason, it would seem, than
+because it is colonial; or, if there be another reason, it is the no
+less humiliating one, that England deems the mind of the colonies
+beneath her attention. Not less injurious, though less disagreeable, is
+the indifference constantly displayed by England towards the colonies,
+and the almost universal ignorance that prevails there as to their
+importance and worth. It was the same with the old colonies. The idea
+was ridiculed of “clod-hopping colonists” entering the House of Commons,
+and holding up their heads among the collected wisdom of Great Britain.
+The unpretending but profound wisdom of Franklin was sneered at and
+underrated by men as much higher than him in power as they were lower in
+understanding. The powerful and convincing eloquence of Patrick Henry
+fell dead upon the English nation; and what has since commanded the
+admiration of the world for its originality and boldness, was then
+regarded with cold contempt.
+
+Speaking of what should be the treatment of American mind by England,
+Adam Smith used the following language; and its complete applicability
+to the present state of things, shows that great truths lose nothing by
+long keeping. He said—
+
+
+  “By this representation, a new method of acquiring importance, a new
+  and more dazzling object of ambition, would be presented to the
+  leading men of each colony. Instead of piddling for the little prizes
+  which are to be found in what may be called the paltry raffle of a
+  colony faction, they might then hope, from the presumption which men
+  naturally have in their own ability and good fortune, to draw some of
+  the great prizes which sometimes come from the whole of the great
+  state lottery of British politics. Unless this, or some other method
+  is fallen upon—and there seems to be none more obvious than this—of
+  preserving the importance and gratifying the ambition of the leading
+  men in America, it is not very probable they will ever voluntarily
+  submit to us; and we ought to consider that the blood we shed in
+  forcing them to do so, is, every drop of it, the blood of either those
+  who are, or of those whom we wish to have, for our fellow citizens.”
+
+
+Before concluding this part of our subject, we cannot avoid comparing
+the conduct of the American States towards their distant possessions,
+and the feeling of these distant possessions towards them, with that of
+Britain towards her colonies, and of her colonies towards Britain. We
+could perhaps adduce no better argument in favour of what we are
+contending for; and the example of America is well worthy the attention
+of a power like Britain, which owes so much of its greatness to its
+distant possessions, and so many of its troubles and embarrassments to
+their bad management.
+
+California is between five and six months’ passage from New York round
+Cape Horn. It is about thirty-five days by way of Panama. It is several
+months—and the journey is only at certain seasons accomplishable at
+all—by the south pass of the Rocky Mountains; and it is about forty days
+by way of the Mexican territory, with many dangers and uncertainties
+attending it to even well-protected parties—and somewhat of the most
+hazardous to those who are not protected. Now, these distant possessions
+of the United States—which are, measuring distance by the time and
+difficulties attending the journey, at least four times as far as
+Halifax is from Liverpool—these distant possessions, how are they
+treated by America? Has their intended application to be received into
+the Union, and to bear their share of its burthens, and receive their
+share of its benefits and protection, been regarded as dreamy and
+utopian? Have the States regarded it as impossible to extend to them
+their stability, and the conservative elements of their legislation and
+federal government? Have the States had their misgivings, as to
+California’s representatives having too much influence in their
+government? or have the Californians thought the United States’
+government would exercise too much power over them? Whatever they have,
+or have not, thought in this respect, the great consideration of their
+becoming an integral portion of the United States, of their being
+identified with their destiny, and borne along with their prosperity,
+has utterly obliterated all others; and there is no doubt but that in a
+few years they will bear the same relation to the American Union that
+Louisiana and Texas do.
+
+Now, what good reason is there why Great Britain should not regard her
+North American colonies and her West Indian possessions in the same way
+as the States do California? And why should these colonies and
+possessions not look to England as the Californians do to the States—and
+seek, in the same way, to identify themselves with her destiny—to share
+in her stability—to participate in her glory and greatness—and to enjoy,
+as far as they merit it, her vast credit?
+
+But it is not alone in the mutual appreciation of each other’s value, by
+the States and their distant possessions, and their mutual willingness
+to share in each other’s burthens, and to have an identity of destiny,
+that these States and their possessions differ from Great Britain and
+her colonies. The two nations, apart from the views of their respective
+colonists, differ widely from each other in the most essential point
+necessary to the beneficial governmental connexion of any country with
+another, be it empire or colony, or distant far or near. And that
+difference consists in the people of the United States always becoming
+thoroughly acquainted with what they are connected with, and thoroughly
+understanding how that connexion may be rendered advantageous; and in
+the people of England’s desiring to retain their sway over what they
+will not take the trouble to understand, and wishing to combine and
+harmonise their interests with those which they seem, and ever have
+seemed, determined to be in ignorance regarding. Almost every
+intelligent inhabitant of the States, at this present moment, has nearly
+as definite and particular a knowledge of the portions of California
+that have been explored, as those who live in or have traversed
+California for themselves. The value of town lots, their situation and
+eligibility in San Francisco are as well understood in New York and
+Boston as they are by the man who occupies the next lot to them. There
+is not a spot where a village might grow up—there is not a place where a
+mill might be advantageously built—that is not known, marked, and
+considered, with all its relative bearings and benefits, by thousands in
+the States, with just as much intention of taking advantage of it, and,
+from the extraordinary enterprise of the people, with just as much
+likelihood of being able to do so, as those that are on the spot. The
+whole country—its towns, its situations for towns, its valleys, its
+hills, its woods, and its want of woods, its crops, and its climate,
+are, for all purposes of business, for present and for future advantage
+to the States, well and universally understood by the mass of the
+people. Its newspapers, published at the immense distance that San
+Francisco is from New York and Boston, are largely supported by
+subscribers in these cities, and by the people in every direction over
+the vast surface of the United States. The advertisements in them of
+village lots for sale, are matters of nearly as much interest to
+Americans as an auction sale of a bankrupt’s furniture and plate would
+be to a Jew in London.
+
+Now, can it be accounted as other than natural, that the legislation of
+America should partake of the universality of its mind, and the
+largeness of its activity and enterprise?—that, California’s interests,
+situation, extent, and value, being well understood by America, America
+might wisely legislate for it?—that America might beneficially extend
+the mantle of her wisdom and experience over it, and infuse the
+conservative elements of her federal government into it, and raise it as
+much in the estimation of the world as it benefited it within itself?
+Hence the desire of the Californians that the flag of the United States
+should not only represent their protection of California, but their
+government over it, and their legislation in it, which the world has
+associated with success and advancement.
+
+Now, for upwards of half a century, there has been an extensive
+commercial intercourse carried on between Great Britain and her North
+American colonies. The province of Upper Canada is all that we have
+described it to be—open to five millions of people to settle and become
+independent in—open to many more millions of capital being profitably
+invested in it. The other colonies ever have been, and are, full of
+opportunities for the successful employment of money and enterprise, and
+the profitable application of labour. But we would here ask, with such
+opportunities on the part of Great Britain of knowing the value of these
+magnificent possessions, has she shown anything of the activity of mind
+and the universality of enterprise of America? Has she literally done
+anything where the Americans have done everything, to render these
+possessions valuable to her—to render them a vast boon to her people,
+instead of being a perpetual source of confusion and embarrassment to
+her government? Who has there been in England, with capital ready to
+invest and enterprise ready to undertake, looking out for valuable mill
+sites on the magnificent rivers of the Canadas? How many of her
+capitalists have been looking over the map of the colonies, and
+inquiring into the richness and value of particular lands, adjacent to a
+stream, where a village or a town might be formed and grow up? Who in
+England have been learning the wealth of her colonies in timber, in
+fisheries, in minerals, and in scores of other things, with the view of
+profitably employing their capital in them, and making the colonies
+while they enriched themselves? Few, very few, indeed. Is it not a fact,
+that thousands in Great Britain, whose capital might be of the vastest
+use to the colonies, and the colonies the best field in the world for
+reproducing it, hardly know whether they lie on the north or the south
+side of the St Lawrence; hardly know whether the cities of Hamilton and
+Toronto are on lake Ontario or lake Erie; hardly know whether Upper
+Canada is a cold, inhospitable region, or possesses the bracing, genial,
+and healthy climate it really has? And though it is now but a ten days’
+trip from these colonies to Great Britain, and they possess so many
+objects of interest and value to her, we believe we might with safety
+offer a reward to any person who would find in England, apart from
+government officials, news-rooms, and colonial traders, twelve men who
+take a Canadian newspaper. Now, is it any wonder that the colonists
+would like to get rid of a system of colonial government which has been
+productive of no better knowledge or understanding, for this period of
+time, of their interests and prosperity than this? Is it any wonder that
+they feel that they never can, and never will, be appreciated, valued,
+or benefited as they should, and might, and ought to be, as long as the
+present system is kept up? Is it any wonder that, knowing their great
+country—knowing what it is capable of—and knowing what they as colonists
+should be thought of in connexion with it, they should seek in the
+parliament of Great Britain to place themselves and their country before
+the world in the position that they both should occupy?
+
+As pertinent to this view of the question, we may here mention that the
+facilities of communication between Great Britain and the colonies have
+now become so great and so perfect, that all the commercial houses of
+importance in the colonies send home their agents twice a-year to
+purchase goods. Thus these agents go home in January to lay in their
+spring and summer stocks. They return to Canada again in the latter end
+of March, and make their observations of the trade, and help to sell the
+goods they purchased in England. In July, they go home again to buy
+their fall and winter stocks, and in October they return to help to
+assort and to sell them. The agent for the large importing house of
+Buchanan, Harris, & Co., in Hamilton, at the head of Lake Ontario, has
+done this for years; and between Hamilton (which is five hundred and
+ninety-five miles above Quebec) and Liverpool, since the Canard steamers
+have been running, the time occupied on the journey has not varied two
+days, the time of performing it averaging but eighteen days. We may add,
+too, as a singular fact, that we have seen, in a country village six
+hundred and twenty-five miles above Quebec, fashions worn within the
+same month in which they first appeared in London!
+
+Now, should these extraordinary evidences of the triumphs of science
+over matter not teach legislation to move from its old and crippling
+paths, and to keep pace with the spirit and the advancement of the age?
+Is it not a fact, pregnant with powerful reasons why the colonies should
+represent their own interests in the Legislature of Great Britain, that
+commercial houses find it indispensable to their success to be
+represented twice a-year in the British markets? Yet the vast property
+and interests of the colonies are without any representation in that
+legislature, where alone they can be fostered or withered. We have
+pointed out the consequences.
+
+Before concluding this paper, it may be expected by the English public,
+(and indeed by the Americans,) that we should not pass unnoticed a
+movement in the colonies, which, though it might well have been looked
+for, from what we have already proved and shown, has still struck the
+great body of the people of England with surprise, if not with alarm. We
+mean the movement in favour of the “annexation” of the colonies to the
+States. It may be proper, in the first place, to say, that though its
+name would seem to imply that the consent of the government and people
+of the United States had been solicited and obtained, before the “banns”
+were published to the world, yet that consent has never been asked, nor
+was it either promised or given without the asking. The people of the
+United States are quietly and calmly looking on at the dispute between
+Great Britain and her colonies, and they are determined to continue so
+to do until that dispute is settled. The days of their bitterness and
+hostility to England are over. What they may, or what they would do, if
+the colonies should be separated from Britain, they reserve to
+themselves the right of deciding when the colonies are in a position to
+ask for themselves, and to act for themselves. In this we believe we
+express the feelings and opinions of the great body of the intelligent
+people of the American States—certainly we do of the distinguished
+individual at the head of their government, and of the whole of the
+respectable portion of the American press. A report may reach England,
+that a portion of the money which was collected in the States, to aid
+the late unhappy insurrection in Ireland, has been contributed to
+establish and support “annexation” newspapers in the Canadas. This
+report requires confirmation; and if it were even partially true, it
+would only amount to this, that the “Irish Directory” in New York, who
+are said to have the money, have been regularly sold; for if they wished
+to dismember England, there is nothing they could possibly do that would
+more effectually tend to defeat their intentions. The “annexation”
+movement rests, in truth, upon the merits or demerits of its own
+treason, for treason it assuredly is. Authorised by whomsoever it may
+be—justified, occasioned, or palliated by whatever men or measures, in
+England or elsewhere—it is clearly a case of attempting to dissolve her
+Majesty’s empire in the name of “material interests,” being moved and
+instigated thereto by a certain individual called _free trade_.
+
+But can this movement go on and prosper, seditious as it palpably is,
+without establishing a most dangerous precedent for England? And can it
+be stopped without a waste of life and money, that would bring Great
+Britain but little credit, and less advantage?
+
+Whatever may be the danger of the precedent, and whatever may be its
+effects upon other colonies, or upon England herself, it seems clear
+that a large expenditure of blood and money, to suppress this movement
+in the Canadas, is neither desirable, nor, in the present temper of the
+British public, might it be possible. And this movement never could be
+physically or forcibly put down, without a large expenditure of both
+these. The men who have deliberately entered into it are not such as
+could be easily driven out of the land, or frightened out of their
+convictions in it. They would fight for their opinions, and, considering
+all things—loyalists disgusted, and Frenchmen in power—they are
+dangerously numerous.
+
+This brings us, then, to consider what is being done in a conciliatory
+point of view, by the free-trade party in England—who are answerable for
+the difficulty—to take the wind out of this “annexation movement’s”
+sails. This is, according to Lord John Russell’s speech—at the dinner
+given some months since, for the purpose, it would seem, of discussing
+colonial subjects—to give them more liberty. Heaven help us! If Lord
+John Russell saw, as we have seen, liberty recently running clean mad in
+these colonies; if he saw responsible government playing its “fantastic
+tricks before high heaven,” with England’s “dignified neutrality”
+looking on, he would hardly be disposed to give them any more rope. But
+what is the character of the liberty and privileges they ask? and, being
+asked, he would give them? The last small instalment they require is, to
+elect their legislative council; and, thinking that the phantom of Great
+Britain’s power, called “dignified neutrality,” may be had at a cheaper
+rate at home, they propose to elect that also—feeling, too, not without
+justice, that they might thereby _neutralise_ the loss to the colonies
+of some four thousand pounds annually. But suppose England should waive
+the privilege of sending out a phantom, and the legislative lords would
+have, like David Crocket, to go about the country electioneering with a
+pocket full of _quids_, pray what, after all this, would be left in the
+colonies to recognise England by? An Englishman coming to them, like the
+man in the farce who had been asleep for a century, would find it rather
+difficult to recognise his relations. But, seriously, what is all this
+but annexation? And is this the only way the great authors of the
+colonial difficulties have of keeping the colonies British?—of making
+them a home for men who seek and who claim to live under the
+institutions of Britain? Better—infinitely better—would it be to tell
+men straightforwardly, and at once, that they must feel the iron enter
+their souls of seeing the flag of their forefathers hauled down on the
+American continent for ever, than compel them to endure its being thus
+slowly and gradually disgraced out of it. And this would and must be the
+inevitable result of Lord John Russell’s giving the colonies more rope.
+
+But what other cause or question is there now before the colonies to put
+against this “annexation movement?” Of purely colonial questions there
+are none. Beyond the true and honest hearts which love Britain, despite
+of all her faults; who would, and will, cling to her, although she has
+sadly requited their attachment,—she has nothing now to bind her to or
+to represent her in America. Her institutions are gone; her government
+has ceased to be respected; Lord Elgin has made her power as “the
+baseless fabric of a vision.” There is nothing Britain can do; there is
+nothing Britain ought to do, but to say, emphatically and at once, to
+her North American colonies—We have not understood you—we have not
+appreciated you—we have not known your great country as we should have
+known it—we have not respected your mind or your interests; but we will
+now make you partners in our great legislature—we will impart to you our
+credit, our greatness, and our stability—and we will bind you up with
+our destiny.
+
+Great Britain has a glorious part to play in America; and she has a
+disastrous one. _She has but a short time to decide upon which she will
+play._
+
+    HAMILTON, CANADA WEST, _Jan. 17, 1850_.
+
+
+                             (POSTSCRIPT.)
+
+The very day on which I last wrote you, we received a London morning
+paper, containing an announcement that the Whig ministry were prepared
+to give up these colonies, and to take upon themselves, before
+parliament, the responsibility of the act. Though it seemed unlike that
+party—whatever they might privately think, or whatever they might
+plainly see must be the inevitable result of their present free-trade
+policy—to take so bold, or rather, so frank a step, yet the articles
+which have appeared from time to time in the _Times_, and which bore on
+the face of them an air of authority, had prepared me to attach some
+credence to the statement. These, after all, may be put from the cabinet
+as feelers upon the country. They may be but a disingenuous _ruse_ of
+men who do not seek to regulate their conduct by what they ought to do
+from the dictates of enlightened principle and great national
+consideration, but are anxious only to float along with the current of
+popular delusion, regardless of the nation’s humiliation and
+dismemberment. It is my belief, however, that if the present ministry,
+backed by Mr Cobden and the Manchester party, play into the hands of
+those here who are struggling to dismember the empire, it will produce a
+civil or social war in the colonies. There is a large body of their
+British and loyal inhabitants who will cling to Britain, and keep her
+flag floating here; and who will, if necessary, part with their lives
+ere they part with it. It is possible—nay, is it not certain?—that Sir
+Robert Peel, and other statesmen, who have plainly and undeniably placed
+the colonies in a situation incompatible with imperial connexion,—may
+throw out such hints and suggestions in the approaching session of
+parliament, as will agitate and move the colonies to their very heart’s
+core,—one party to secure a majority in favour of their “annexation” to
+the States, the other to prevent the dismemberment of their mother
+country? Sir Robert Peel and others have thrown out such suggestions
+before; but, under existing circumstances, if they are again put forth,
+they will be regarded by the “annexation movement” party as an
+invitation to test the opinions of the colonies—to proselytise them, as
+in fact they are now doing, into insurrection, and away from allegiance
+to Britain. Meetings will follow; _the stars and stripes_ will be
+hoisted by one party; the flag of their forefathers by the other; and,
+take my word for it, you will hear of struggles of which God only can
+tell the end, and what they may lead to here and elsewhere. Certainly
+the world will never have witnessed such a scene. The statesmen, the
+cabinet even of Britain playing into the hands of those who would tear
+down her flag in America; and her loyal children supporting it against
+the influence of many who are, and have been, surrounding the throne.
+
+A long residence in the colonies, and a habit of observing, unbiassed by
+colonial party considerations, the character and tendencies of men and
+measures, have enabled me to judge, with some accuracy, of the effects
+of causes not generally supposed to be pregnant with important results.
+At this moment there are, in my judgment, the slumbering elements of a
+deadly strife in the colonies. There is but a small remove between a
+civil revolution and a physical struggle. The seeds of the national and
+revolutionary hurricane are often sown in the peaceful closet, and by
+men who could weep over the thought of what they would produce. The
+seeds of a wild and fearful hurricane in the colonies, and which must
+and will reach England, may be now sowing in many a peaceful closet in
+England. Mr Cobden may talk of peace, and denuding Britain of her
+national defences, and convincing men against all humanity’s experience;
+but he must be, he should be, made aware, that he has not made Britain,
+and may not be allowed to unmake her. He has not added these colonies to
+her crown; and while he may be in words _twaddling_ about universal
+peace, his very speeches may be sowing the seeds here of a deadly
+struggle. Let him beware; let others beware of the vanity of free-trade
+success. The wisdom of the Manchester school has not been that which has
+made Great Britain. Let its vanity and its arrogance not ruin her. If it
+arms treason here—if it wings a storm, from which England may learn
+much, it may be taught to feel what it has done. The demagogues of
+Athens succeeded in banishing the great and the just, but they did not
+succeed in destroying greatness or justice—these are immortal. The
+free-trade party may denude Britain of her glorious possessions in
+America, but these possessions may be the rising, growing, unending
+shame of those who caused their loss, and the generation of Britons who
+permitted it.
+
+
+  HAMILTON, _30th January 1850_.
+
+
+
+
+                    A LATE CASE OF COURT-MARTIAL.[1]
+
+
+“Surely never was so slight a fault visited by so severe a punishment!”
+Such is the exclamation which will fall from the lips, or pass through
+the mind, we believe, of every one who shall peruse Mr Warren’s _Letter
+to the Queen on a Late Court-Martial_. The reader of that letter will
+also rise from its perusal with the painful conviction, that, in the
+awarding of this heavy punishment, a gross violation of one of the most
+ordinary and fundamental laws of jurisprudence has been committed; and
+he will probably conclude with Mr Warren, that if this be a fair
+specimen of the lax manner in which justice is administered in
+courts-martial, some reform is necessary in their structure, or, at all
+events, some higher court of appeal ought to be instituted for the
+revision of their proceedings.
+
+We have read this admirable letter of Mr Warren’s with unusual interest.
+As a literary performance it well comports with, and sustains the
+established reputation of its author; but it reflects a high honour upon
+him of another and loftier description than that which springs from
+literary excellence. It shows him in the light of a warmhearted, zealous
+champion of one whom he believes, and with every appearance of reason,
+to be an oppressed and injured man. He had assisted Captain Douglas at
+his trial before the court-martial, on which he now comments, as his
+legal adviser; he had done his duty as counsel for the defendant, so far
+as such a court admits of the aid or interference of counsel; he had no
+interest to promote, and no obligation to fulfil, by any further
+advocacy of his cause. Captain Douglas had been condemned; the great
+authorities of the Horse Guards had sanctioned and confirmed the
+sentence: a cautious man, and a lover of his ease, would here have
+parted company. He would have shaken his mournful client by the hand,
+and, with some cold unmeaning words of condolence, have left him with
+that troop of summer friends, who have, no doubt, by this time, found
+him a most uncompanionable man. The world was now against him; to
+volunteer his defence was to oppose constituted authorities; it was to
+side with weakness against power—with defeat against triumph. It was to
+stand side by side with one in adversity—stricken, and condemned. But
+caution and love of ease are evidently motives that have very little
+influence on the mind of Mr Warren. As the counsel of Captain Douglas,
+he had grown warm in his defence; he could not suddenly cool when he saw
+him prostrate, defeated, and dishonoured. He was convinced of the
+innocence of his client; he felt persuaded that it was in his power to
+show to all mankind that that client had been cruelly dealt with—treated
+with a degree of harshness amounting to injustice. His position of
+counsel had also given him insight into the whole legal proceedings of
+this court-martial, which betrayed to his practised eye a palpable
+infraction of one at least of those essential rules by which every
+tribunal of justice ought to be governed, or cease to be considered a
+tribunal of justice. He knew all this, and the truth _burnt within him_;
+he could not sit down in silence; he could not at once dismiss his
+sympathy and indignation—his sympathy for an injured man, his
+indignation for the rules of justice violated. He had ceased to be the
+advocate of Captain Douglas, but he still clung to his cause, for it was
+the cause, he was persuaded, of truth and justice.
+
+
+  “Only a great and pressing exigency,” he thus explains himself in the
+  eloquent exordium of his letter, “could have induced one of the
+  humblest of your Majesty’s subjects to step forth from his obscurity,
+  and thus publicly and directly address your Majesty. Even had he not
+  known, however, the benignant and equitable temper of his sovereign, a
+  case like the present would have forced him to bring it forward; for
+  the voice of justice is a sublime one, strengthening the feeblest, and
+  elevating the humblest, who, hearing, endeavours to obey it.
+
+  “He who has thus ventured to beseech the ear of his sovereign,
+  believes in his conscience that the cause of justice in this country
+  has recently sustained, through a defective system of military
+  jurisprudence, a calamitous defeat.
+
+  “An officer, an accomplished gentleman, of ancient and honourable
+  family, in the very flower of his age,[2] after having devoted
+  thirteen years to the faithful and zealous service of your Majesty in
+  almost every quarter of your world-wide dominions, has been
+  ignominiously expelled from that service, branded as a Liar. He stood
+  on trial before his brother officers with as high vouchers to
+  character, as could have been presented, had it unfortunately been
+  rendered necessary by such a casualty as has befallen him, by any one
+  of themselves. He was, moreover, the eldest son of a general officer
+  who lately descended to his grave with honour, after half a century
+  spent in the service of three of your Majesty’s predecessors; leaving
+  behind him, as his eldest son, the unhappy gentleman to whose case I
+  earnestly implore the attention of your Majesty....
+
+  “That gentleman I believe to be, at this moment, one of the most
+  deeply-injured men in your Majesty’s dominions. He has been convicted
+  of misconduct of which he is utterly incapable; and I consider that
+  conviction to be altogether contrary to law and justice, and to have
+  proceeded upon an unconscious violation of cardinal and characteristic
+  rules of British jurisprudence, essential to the safety as well as to
+  the liberties of your Majesty’s subjects. And what has thus happened
+  to Captain Douglas may happen to any other gentleman who is now, or
+  may be hereafter, honoured by bearing the commission of your Majesty.
+  I think myself able to bring forward facts which are incontrovertible,
+  and reasonings which appear, if I may be permitted to say it,
+  conclusive—and that not to myself alone, but to others whose judgment,
+  were it publicly pronounced, would be deemed entitled to the utmost
+  deference—to establish the innocence of one, upon whose brow,
+  nevertheless, stands at this moment, and has stood for eight miserable
+  months, the brand of ‘infamous and scandalous conduct.’”
+
+
+He then proceeds to say that her Majesty alone has the power to redress
+the wrong of which he comes forward to complain.
+
+
+  “In the present case, the blighting sentence passed upon Captain
+  Douglas cannot be reviewed in any court of law. It was solemnly
+  decided, in your Majesty’s Court of Queen’s Bench, on a late occasion,
+  that it had no power to issue a prohibition to restrain the execution
+  of the sentence of a court-martial, after that sentence had been
+  ratified by the king, and carried into execution. And yet, in the
+  existing state of the law, the unfortunate accused has no means of
+  knowing the sentence which has crushed him, until it has been so
+  ratified, carried into execution, and thus declared _therefore_
+  irrevocable! And that sentence, too, pronounced by a _court of law_,
+  bound to proceed according to the law of the land—which law it may
+  have violated in every particular!”
+
+
+It is hardly necessary to say, that the military law under which our
+army has been governed, ever since the Revolution, is as completely
+founded upon the statutes of parliament as any other branch of our
+jurisprudence. A less technical mode of procedure is recognised as
+prevailing in courts-martial, than that which regulates our civil or
+criminal courts. But there is nothing of an _arbitrary_ nature in the
+sentences they pass. These are determined, so far as this is possible,
+by the act of parliament. A judge of the bankruptcy court is not more
+bound by the statute, when he grants or withholds the bankrupt’s
+certificate, than are the judges of a court-martial when they sentence a
+fellow-officer to be cashiered. Let it be granted, therefore, that
+Captain Douglas had so far committed himself, in the course of the
+events we shall have to record, that it was expedient to bring him
+before a court-martial. Let this be granted—an opinion, however, from
+which many will dissent—when there, he claims justice! He is under the
+protection of the law. He is not to be punished with undue severity; he
+is not to be punished illegally.
+
+It is probable that Mr Warren will be thought to have been carried a
+little too far, in his vindication of Captain Douglas’s conduct, by his
+generous zeal and by the ardour of advocacy. It would be asking too much
+to require that he should suddenly assume towards his late client the
+coolness of a quite impartial observer. But whilst his argument is that
+of an advocate, and is something too much tainted with the logic of the
+courts of Westminster, his statement of facts is full and impartial. He
+may be a too zealous advocate, but he is a candid historian. It is
+hardly necessary to add, that, whenever occasion legitimately permits,
+he is a very pleasant and graphic historian.
+
+We do not intend that our account of this case should be a substitute
+for the perusal of Mr Warren’s pamphlet; we desire rather to prompt to
+such a perusal. It is far, therefore, from our design to enter upon all
+the topics it discusses. But the case is one to which, on public
+grounds, we would cheerfully assist in calling public attention. In
+doing so we shall endeavour, in the first place, to state, with perfect
+impartiality, the real and sole offence, or fault, or error, of which it
+seems to us Captain Douglas can be justly accused; and, in the second
+place, to show with what _illegal severity_ this offence has been
+visited. On the first of these topics, we shall, perhaps, be in some
+slight degree at variance with our author; on the second, we shall fully
+accord with him in his main and leading argument: for we think there
+cannot be a doubt that the judgment of this court-martial is
+vitiated—not by any merely technical error, but by an error affecting
+the very justice of the sentence—by no less an error than the finding a
+man guilty of an offence of a certain degree of guilt, and condemning
+him to a punishment expressly and solely awarded to an offence of a far
+greater degree of criminality—finding him, in short, guilty of the crime
+A, and inflicting the penalty decreed only to the crime B.
+
+The life of military men in time of peace presents, as we catch a
+glimpse of it here, no very attractive picture. Captain Douglas in
+barracks at Longy, in the island of Alderney, with one subaltern, Ensign
+Parker, is commanding his detachment. Lieutenant-Colonel Le Mesurier is
+commanding at Alderney, under the title of Town Major. Between these
+rival potentates disputes arise as to their respective jurisdictions.
+Instead of companionship, assistance, co-operation, there is only mutual
+repulsion, mutual hostility.
+
+
+  In this cheerless position of affairs, Captain Douglas “went one
+  day—on Friday the 5th January—about twelve o’clock, for a little
+  amusement, to practise pistol-firing, at a spot near the Frying-Pan
+  Battery, as it is called, which was at a distance of two or three
+  hundred yards from the barracks where he resided. This happened to be
+  the first and only time of his using firearms during his stay in the
+  island. No one but himself, indeed, knew even the fact of his
+  possessing firearms. He ordered his servant Riley to procure some
+  potatoes, and to follow him with them, and the pistol-case, (which,
+  however, Riley did not know to be such, nor for what purpose the
+  potatoes were required,) to the Frying-Pan Battery.”
+
+
+These circumstances are mentioned to account for the scanty testimony
+which Riley afterwards gave; it being supposed that he had withheld
+evidence to serve the interest of his master. And certainly it is a
+little difficult to believe that Patrick Riley, who was a soldier as
+well as the servant of Captain Douglas, did not know what the
+pistol-case contained, or for what purpose he carried it and the two
+potatoes to the battery. We continue the narrative in the words of Mr
+Warren, which we should be very unwise not to adopt, wherever it is in
+our power to do so.
+
+
+  “Captain Douglas proceeded to make a target in the wall opposite,
+  which faced the sea—by putting a potato into the centre of an open
+  piece of newspaper, and then thrusting it into a crevice in the wall.
+  This he did to make the mark at which he intended to aim more
+  distinctly visible. He had selected this particular spot for his
+  practice because it was retired and safe. It was entirely hid from the
+  view of the sentry, or any of the men on guard at the barracks....
+  After firing about twenty or thirty shots, every one of them at the
+  target in question—standing all the while with his back to the sea,
+  and against the rampart, and at which stood the pistol-case and
+  potatoes—he saw Mr Parker approaching. It was a few minutes before one
+  o’clock when he got there. Having fired two shots, both at the same
+  target at which Captain Douglas had been shooting, he went down by a
+  somewhat precipitous descent to the beach, which lay about forty feet
+  immediately below them, accompanied by his dog—intending to amuse
+  himself for a few minutes by throwing stones into the sea, and sending
+  his dog after them; and also desirous of ascertaining whether a hole,
+  which had caught his eye in descending, was that of a rabbit or a
+  rat.”
+
+
+Amusements were scarce at Alderney.
+
+
+  “Neither Captain Douglas nor Mr Parker’s attention was called to the
+  circumstance of their harmless pistol practice, on the 5th January,
+  till about three or four o’clock on the ensuing Monday afternoon—the
+  8th January. During the interval, Captain Henderson had arrived from
+  Guernsey; and he, Mr Parker, and Captain Douglas were walking together
+  towards the town, when they met Mr Bains, (a medical gentleman.) After
+  the ordinary salutations, Captain Douglas asked him, ‘What news was
+  going on in the town?’ To which Mr Bains answered, laughing, ‘Nothing
+  new, _since your sport with the bulls of Bashan at Longy_;’ and he
+  proceeded to say, to the surprise of Captain Douglas and Mr Parker,
+  ‘that he understood a bullock had been shot at or near Longy.’ Captain
+  Douglas replied with a smile, ‘You surely don’t mean to say that _I_
+  am charged with having had anything to do with it?’—‘Indeed you are,’
+  said Mr Bains—‘and you will find the constable at your quarters about
+  it, on your return! But it is true, is it not, that you and Parker
+  were ball firing there?’—‘Yes, we were practising,’ replied Captain
+  Douglas unhesitatingly; ‘but I know nothing about the bullock.’ After
+  some other observations, Mr Bains, who knew the position in which
+  Colonel Le Mesurier and Captain Douglas stood towards each other, said
+  with a smile, ‘Colonel Le Mesurier has gone up to look at the
+  bullock.’ To this observation Captain Douglas made a brief sarcastic
+  answer; and shortly afterwards Mr Bains left them.
+
+  “The three officers, after continuing their walk for some time longer,
+  separated, towards five o’clock. Captain Henderson went to Corblets
+  barracks, to dress for dinner, both he and Mr Parker being engaged to
+  dine that evening with Captain Douglas; who, with Mr Parker, walked
+  towards Longy, expecting to meet with the constable spoken of by Mr
+  Bains. As they went, they conversed on the subject of his
+  communication, remarking how oddly circumstances seemed to favour the
+  notion that, if a bullock had really been shot, it must have been by
+  them; and they also adverted to the fact of Colonel Le Mesurier having
+  already become acquainted with the matter, and what could have been
+  his object in going to see the carcase of the animal. After some
+  consideration they agreed that it would be better, under the
+  circumstances, _not to admit the fact of their having been firing, but
+  leave it to be proved by those who seemed disposed to charge them with
+  having shot the bullock_.”
+
+
+Here was the fatal error. In this resolution, and the acting on it, lies
+the whole moral offence, fault, or delinquency of Captain Douglas. Not
+to admit a fact, when questioned on it, is so close upon a denial of the
+fact, that no human ingenuity can keep them long separate. His
+concealment of an act perfectly innocent was construed into a denial of
+that act: it could not well be otherwise, for an evasive answer, which
+serves the purpose of concealment, must be understood by the party who
+receives it as a denial, or it no longer serves the purpose of
+concealment. Yet an evasive answer of this description is permitted by
+men of the strictest honour in a thousand instances, and is only visited
+with _moral opprobrium_ in those cases where there is an imperative
+claim upon the conscience to tell the whole truth. No such imperative
+claim can be made out in the present case. We admit, however, that it
+was an error. The better rule is never to resort to an evasion unless
+there are very strong reasons for so doing. We admit that the adopting
+of, and persisting in, this policy, or rather this _impolicy_, of
+concealment, was here to some extent blameable. But we can detect no
+base or dishonourable motive leading to it. The worst motive we can
+divine, is a certain love of a tortuous policy by which some ingenious
+persons are afflicted. They like finessing, and will introduce into the
+common affairs of life, much to their own and other people’s
+embarrassment, what they would describe as a diplomatic dexterity.
+
+The constable, Renier, on the same afternoon, made his appearance at the
+house of Captain Douglas. There is much controversy as to the import of
+the question which he put to Captain Douglas; whether, when he asked
+him, “If he knew anything about it?”—he referred to the shooting of the
+bullock, or the firing on the battery. It is plain, from the
+circumstances of the case, that both these matters were inextricably
+mixed up _in the mind of the constable_; for he came to inquire of the
+shooting of the bullock because of the firing on the battery; and into
+the firing on the battery, because of the supposed shooting of the
+bullock. There is no wonder, therefore, that a man, not accustomed to
+analyse his own ideas, should, in giving his evidence before the court,
+sometimes state one, and sometimes the other, as the object of his
+inquiry. But it is equally plain, from the very nature of the case, that
+whatever was stirring in the mind of the constable, his first question
+to the Captain would be, whether he knew anything about the death of the
+bullock. He would never have thought of coming to the barracks to ask an
+officer whether he had been practising with his pistol, without showing
+in the first place that he had grounds for making what otherwise would
+be a very impertinent inquiry. We feel ourselves, therefore, quite
+justified in adopting here the statement of Captain Douglas. According
+to that statement, Renier asked him “if he knew anything about shooting
+the bullock?” He answered “No,” as he well might. For it is to be
+understood at once, and distinctly, that Captain Douglas had nothing
+whatever to do with the death of the bullock, and knew nothing about it.
+But, unfortunately, the dialogue between them did not stop here. It will
+be remembered that Captain Douglas had made use of a piece of a
+newspaper, the _Times_, to form his target. This newspaper bore his own
+name and address on it. The constable added—“That a _Times_ paper had
+been found near the spot, with Captain Douglas’s name upon it.” _This_
+remark could have reference only to the question—who had been firing on
+the battery? And to this remark Captain Douglas replied—“Possibly so;
+there were plenty of his papers about; they went all through the
+barracks and into the town, and he had five or six a-week.” With this
+answer the constable departed.
+
+The next day a civil court was held, presided over by Judge Gaudion, to
+inquire into this affair of the death of the bullock. Captain Douglas
+was summoned to attend. A number of witnesses were examined, whose
+testimony it is not necessary for our purpose to enter into. Mr Bisset,
+the owner of the animal, who had connected its death with the firing
+heard upon the ramparts, produced a number of flattened bullets, broken
+percussion caps, and pieces of a newspaper addressed to Captain Douglas,
+which had been found upon the battery. After the judge had asked Captain
+Douglas whether he had any knowledge who had shot the bullock, and had
+received the decisive and truthful answer, that “he had not,” he
+proceeded—pointing to some pieces of newspaper lying on the table—to put
+the following question: “Can you account for the _Times_ newspaper to
+your address having been found in the battery, perforated evidently by
+ball practice?” To which Captain Douglas answered, “I am not accountable
+for my papers, as they travel through the barracks and into the town.”
+
+This absurd policy (for so we should characterise it) of concealment is
+adhered to, and with these unfortunate pieces of the _Times_ newspaper
+lying before him! His answer is understood as a denial of having been
+practising with his pistol on the battery, and there are those tell-tale
+fragments “evidently perforated with ball.” It is inconceivably absurd.
+He is getting into a scrape, and raising a scandal in the little island
+of Alderney, for no intelligible motive whatever.
+
+Mr Warren here defends the conduct of his late client on the legal
+principle or maxim, that no man is bound to criminate himself. He stood
+there in a court of justice “virtually as an accused party;” the court
+throws its shield over persons in such a position, cautions them, and
+would protect them even against their own indiscretion. Captain Douglas
+was fully justified in availing himself of this well-known privilege—in
+evading and warding off a question which he could not answer without
+supplying evidence against himself.
+
+Mr Warren will forgive us if we smiled, for a moment, at this instance
+of the inveterate habits of the lawyer, overpowering the natural
+shrewdness and sagacity of the man. This legal argument is manifestly
+inapplicable, and for this simple reason: in the circumstances of the
+case, there is nothing sufficiently grave—no impending charge of
+sufficient magnitude—to induce or warrant, in any reasonable man, a
+departure from, or a concealment of the truth, or any tampering with his
+honour. _If_ the evasive statement of Captain Douglas be considered as
+tantamount to a denial, and _if_ that virtual denial be considered as in
+some degree dishonourable, there can be no shelter for him in this maxim
+of law, because the fear of a false accusation of having accidentally
+shot a bullock, would not be accepted, by men of honour, as an excuse or
+justification.
+
+If Captain Douglas had really shot the bullock, he would have been still
+more completely under the shelter of this legal maxim—and his
+equivocation would have been a ten times more heinous offence.
+
+As Mr Warren repeats this argument more than once, it may be worth while
+to state, in general terms, wherein its fallacy lies. A person is tried
+before a court-martial, which partakes of the nature of a court of
+honour, for a departure from, or a concealment of truth, considered to
+be dishonourable to a gentleman. It is no sufficient answer to plead the
+privilege which courts of law throw around a witness, unless you show at
+the same time that, in his case, such a privilege could be taken
+advantage of without any derogation to his character as a member of
+society. A very little reflection will satisfy us that the permission
+granted by courts of law to the accused party, or to a witness, to deny
+or withhold the truth, _may_ or _may not_ be a valid excuse in the moral
+judgment of society—may or may not be such a permission as it would be
+honourable to accept.
+
+A man is tried for his life on the charge of murder, or high treason. He
+pleads not guilty. Although he is in fact guilty, the most honourable
+and fastidious portion of society add nothing to their reprobation of
+the accused on account of this plea. The code of honour or of moral
+opinion, and the rule of the court of law, are not at variance.
+
+But nothing is easier than to imagine cases in which they would be at
+variance, and at variance in all possible degrees, from slight
+difference to complete opposition. The accused is being tried on a false
+accusation for murder. Titus is a witness. He can by his evidence
+establish the innocence of the accused, but in giving that evidence he
+will reveal his own guilt. The court allows him to be silent where his
+answer to the question would criminate himself. And here, too, the
+opinion of society would probably coincide with the rule of the
+court,—yet not entirely; many would censure the witness, many would
+excuse, none would cordially approve.
+
+Let us now suppose that Titus is innocent, but, in giving his evidence,
+he must confess some fact which will excite a strong suspicion against
+himself. Here the number of those who would justify his silence would
+greatly diminish. Suppose now that the suspicion which would be raised
+against him, was of a slight character, one which might be easily
+removed; suppose that by his evidence alone could the accused be saved
+from the unjust condemnation that hung over him; add to all this, that
+the accused and innocent party was the _friend_ of Titus, and had been
+his benefactor—and now this witness, “not bound to criminate himself,”
+has become the object of execration to all mankind.
+
+This legal maxim is but one of many rules which courts of law, or the
+legislature, enact for the better administration of justice,—rules which
+cannot be so framed as to be strictly consentaneous, or identical, with
+the rules of morality. One who owes a just debt takes advantage of the
+forbearance of an indulgent creditor, and pleads the statute of
+limitations. The court admits the plea, puts it in his mouth, justifies
+him for the use of it. But the use of it has dishonoured him for life.
+
+To return to our case. Mr Bisset, the owner of the bullock, still
+associating its death, most erroneously, with the firing heard on the
+battery, published a newspaper paragraph in the _Guernsey Comet_, headed
+DISGRACEFUL AFFAIR! in which suspicion was thrown upon Captain Douglas
+and Ensign Parker, and which terminated with the offer of “A REWARD OF
+TWENTY POUNDS, to be paid to any one giving information sufficient to
+convict the party or parties who were shooting at the Frying-pan Battery
+on Friday the 5th January, between the hours of twelve and three P.M.
+
+Mr Bisset also laid his complaint before Major-General Bell, the
+commanding officer at Guernsey. That officer wrote to Captain Douglas,
+requiring his explanation of the affair. A great part of the letter
+referred distinctly to this pistol-firing on the battery. Now then, the
+reader is prepared to say, Captain Douglas will surely lay aside this
+needless and silly piece of diplomacy, this concealment of a perfectly
+innocent act, which is only strengthening suspicion against him. If he
+could permit himself to trifle with Judge Gaudion, and the petty civil
+court at Alderney, he will not trifle with his superior officer; he will
+not run the risk _here_ of being thought to equivocate. Nearly a month
+had now elapsed since the first visit of Constable Renier. Time had been
+given him to reflect: and Captain Douglas did reflect. Ensign Parker
+lets fall in his evidence that he wrote _two_ letters in answer to this
+communication, and pondered some time which he should send. In the one,
+he frankly avowed having been firing with his pistol on the battery,
+whilst he utterly denied the accusation of having shot the bullock; in
+the other, he adhered to his policy of concealment, confined himself to
+a denial of the main accusation, and left all that part of the letter
+relating to the firing on the battery virtually unanswered. He pondered
+which of the two he should send; but the genius of diplomacy
+prevailed,—he sent the second!
+
+Major-General Bell, as might be expected, was not satisfied with such a
+reply. He instituted a military Court of Inquiry, consisting of Colonel
+Le Mesurier, Captain Cockburn, and Captain Clerk, with instructions “to
+ascertain whether any person or persons, belonging to the garrison, were
+engaged in firing with ball, within or immediately adjoining Longy
+Lines, on the day and within the hours specified in several of the
+documents laid before them.” It was not till the evening of the second
+day on which this court had sat, that Captain Douglas seems to have had
+his eyes opened to the perilous manner in which he was compromising
+himself. On the evening of that day, he wrote a letter to Judge Gaudion,
+stating the whole and simple truth with regard to this pistol-firing;
+and the next morning, he repeated the same statement before the military
+Court of Inquiry. The confession, it seems, came too late to save him
+from the consequences of his unwise, needless, and pertinacious
+concealment of an act in itself perfectly innocent. It was thought a
+case sufficiently grave to bring before a court-martial.[3]
+
+It will be seen and acknowledged at once, that we have not attempted to
+screen Captain Douglas from the degree of blame which an impartial judge
+would throw upon his conduct. If the court-martial had reprimanded
+Captain Douglas, we should have thought the penalty sufficiently severe,
+but neither we, nor perhaps others, would have been disposed to dispute
+the propriety of the sentence, or, at least, to call public attention to
+the case. But, for this offence, the court has sentenced Captain Douglas
+to be _cashiered_!
+
+This sentence—to enter now upon our second topic—is not only cruelly
+severe, it is illegal, it is unjust. Our readers need not fear that we
+are about to involve them in the technicalities of jurisprudence. It is
+no technical matter we have to deal with, but broad principles of
+justice. Mr Warren has, indeed, raised a class of legal objections
+against the verdict of the court-martial, grounded on its refusal to
+admit certain evidence. On these objections we shall not enter. To us it
+appears that the president of the court exercised his power in this
+matter, in general, very discreetly. But, on these objections, we wish
+it to be understood that we give no opinion. We pass at once to what we
+deem a fatal error in this verdict—an error, not of form, but of
+substance; an error which constitutes it to be an _unjust judgment_.
+
+Captain Douglas was tried upon the following charge,—“for conduct
+unbecoming the character of an officer and a gentleman.” Of such conduct
+he was found guilty. Now, the article of war under which he was
+arraigned, and the only one under which his offence, by any fair
+interpretation, could fall, is the 80th, and runs thus:—“Any officer who
+shall behave _in a scandalous, infamous manner_, unbecoming the
+character of an officer and a gentleman, shall, on conviction thereof
+before a general court-martial, be CASHIERED.”[4]
+
+The penalty, under this article, is _peremptorily_ that of cashiering. A
+less punishment the court is not competent to pronounce. The article has
+for its express object the removal from the service of officers who are
+convicted of scandalous and infamous behaviour.
+
+
+  “There is no provision,” says Mr Warren, “in the Articles of War, for
+  the cognisance of unofficer-like and ungentleman-like conduct,
+  divested of a tendency to prejudice good order and military
+  discipline, (so as to bring it within Article 108,) in any degree less
+  than that involving infamy and scandal. In the year 1801, an officer
+  was charged before a General Court-martial with scandalous and
+  infamous conduct, unbecoming the character of an officer and a
+  gentleman. The Court acquitted the prisoner of ‘scandalous and
+  infamous behaviour,’ but considering his conduct, nevertheless, as
+  ‘unbecoming the character of an officer and a gentleman,’ adjudged him
+  to ‘be suspended from rank and pay for six calendar months.’ His
+  Majesty King George III. declared the adjudication irregular, and
+  disapproved the sentence, ‘inasmuch as the Court had acquitted the
+  prisoner of the only imputation which could bring the business as a
+  charge before them—namely, of any scandalous and infamous behaviour in
+  the transaction.’ In another case, which happened in 1814, in India,
+  an officer was tried by General Court-martial, on the charge of
+  ‘scandalous and infamous conduct, unbecoming the character of an
+  officer and a gentleman,’ in two instances. The Court acquitted him of
+  the first, but found him guilty of the criminal acts charged in the
+  second instance; acquitting him, however, of ‘scandalous and infamous
+  conduct, unbecoming the character of an officer and a gentleman.’ The
+  Commander-in-Chief, Earl Moira, declared that ‘he regarded the Court
+  as having returned a verdict of acquittal generally, and directed the
+  officer who had been convicted to return to his duty.’ His lordship
+  observed that ‘the Court, in declaring that the criminal act proved
+  against the prisoner did not come within the description of
+  ‘scandalous, infamous, and unbecoming the character of an officer and
+  a gentleman,’ had divested itself of all power to award punishment,
+  except inasmuch as the acts might be considered to come under the
+  above specific definition.’ In the present case, the Court _could_ not
+  have acquitted of scandalous and infamous conduct, because _it was not
+  charged_.”
+
+
+The charge quotes a portion of the very words of the article. But that
+this portion can be separated from the rest of the sentence, and made to
+designate a distinct, substantive offence, would be a monstrous
+supposition. The whole stress, the whole meaning lies in the words
+“infamous and scandalous;” but because there may be scandalous and
+infamous conduct, which does not fall under the cognisance of a
+court-martial, it is added as a further definition, that it must be such
+misconduct as affects the character of an officer and a gentleman.[5]
+The article of war intends to describe such conduct as would make a man
+_scandalous and infamous amongst his fellow-officers_.
+
+Suppose it were thought fit to frame similar rules for the medical
+profession, and one of these declared, “That any one who shall behave in
+a scandalous and infamous manner unbecoming the character of a physician
+and a gentleman, shall, on conviction thereof, be expelled from the
+profession,” would any one in his senses think it sufficient to adopt
+the last qualifying phrase, “unbecoming the character of a physician and
+a gentleman,” as descriptive of an offence which, under this rule, would
+incur an expulsion from the faculty? Why, it might be thought
+“unbecoming” a physician to break rude and silly jests upon his
+patients, (as a late celebrated character is accused of doing,) but not
+for such offences, we presume, would any one imagine that expulsion from
+the profession was provided.
+
+But we shall be told that the proceedings of a court-martial are not
+fettered by the same strict rules which preside over the record in a
+court of law. This is very true. It is sufficient if the offence is
+substantially indicated. Perhaps it will be argued that these words,
+“unbecoming of an officer and a gentleman,” must be taken as a part for
+the whole, and that the charge _was_ essentially for scandalous and
+infamous behaviour.
+
+If so, the court has placed itself in the following dilemma, from which
+we do not see any possibility of escape:—_Either_ the charge is to be
+understood as substantially for scandalous and infamous conduct—and, in
+that case, who will venture to assert that the evidence supports so
+heinous an accusation?—who will venture to assert that the concealment
+or equivocation proved against Captain Douglas was that falsehood, that
+sort of lie, which stamps a man as scandalous and infamous, and drives
+him from the society of gentlemen? _Or_ (which is the plain common-sense
+view of the case) the charge is what it professes to be—for “unbecoming”
+conduct—it is this charge which is present to the minds of the members
+of the court-martial—it is on this he is tried, of this which he is
+convicted; and _then_, after being found guilty of this all but venial
+offence, he is visited with the punishment of a far heavier one—for
+behaviour which would make him scandalous and infamous amongst his
+brother officers.
+
+We repeat, this is no technical argument—it is gross, palpable
+injustice—as palpable injustice as if a man were tried for manslaughter,
+convicted of manslaughter, and hanged for murder!
+
+If we ask why the Court awarded so severe a sentence as cashiering on so
+trifling an offence, we shall be told that the Court had no power to
+pass any less sentence than that which is decreed by the article of war.
+We admit the reason. But surely if the Court was bound to inflict the
+severe sentence decreed by the article of war, it was bound to convict
+of the crime specified by that article. The court-martial which tried
+Captain Douglas was scrupulous in passing the right sentence, was _not_
+scrupulous in determining whether the crime had been committed for which
+alone that sentence is by law awarded.
+
+Mr Warren concludes his “Letter” by some suggestions for the reform of
+our military law. These appear to us to be worthy of consideration. But
+legal reforms are grave and intricate matters; we would not give a hasty
+opinion on them; we would recommend them to the consideration of our
+jurists, and the whole pamphlet to the perusal of our readers. They will
+also probably find it far more entertaining than, from our meagre
+abstract of the case of Captain Douglas, they will expect. There is one
+subject which occupies a considerable space, and which, to the
+generality of readers, will form the most attractive portion of the
+“Letter,” to which we have made no allusion. We refer to a narrative of
+facts, which show the hostile attitude in which Colonel Le Mesurier and
+Captain Douglas stood towards each other. It is a little history we
+could not possibly abridge, and which did not appear to us as absolutely
+necessary to an intelligible view of the case. This narrative will be
+read with interest, affording as it does a glimpse into real life, and
+showing us what very animated contests and controversies a few officers
+may contrive to while away their time with, even in the dull quiet
+island of Alderney. It is well told, with graphic but _subdued_ power.
+Conscious that the author of one of our best and most popular novels
+would be watched on such an occasion, and readily suspected of employing
+his art as a consummate narrator, Mr Warren has abstained from producing
+any startling effects; he has, at least, used no other than that highest
+art which conceals art. We have left the whole of this portion of the
+pamphlet fresh and untouched, for the perusal of the reader.
+
+In the account we have given of this really very important case, we have
+not been able to mention the numerous points on which Mr Warren dwells
+for the exculpation of his client. We have been compelled to content
+ourselves with the impression which the whole narrative, after careful
+and unbiassed perusal, left upon our own minds. We are utterly unable to
+imagine, for the conduct of Captain Douglas, any worse motive than what
+we have described as a somewhat too diplomatic taste, as a want of a
+perfectly straightforward manner of speech. We see in his conduct a very
+palpable error in judgment, but we are quite at a loss to fix upon
+anything which deserves to be characterised as dishonourable—anything
+like such infamous and palpable falsehood as ought to drive a man with
+disgrace out of the service.
+
+When we turn from the conduct of Captain Douglas to the sentence passed
+upon it, we are utterly amazed at its egregious disproportion and
+flagrant injustice. There is an article of war framed for the express
+purpose of ridding the service of scandalous and infamous persons. In
+order to bring the case of Captain Douglas under this article, he is
+first arraigned for “unbecoming conduct,” and by a very severe
+construction found guilty of this charge; and then these comparatively
+mild and harmless expressions are found to be equivalent to “scandalous
+and infamous conduct.” Why, if this be law, if this is a precedent, that
+article of war should henceforth be read thus,—“Whoever is guilty of
+unbecoming conduct shall be cashiered.” And what a terrible instrument
+of injustice such an article of war might be converted into, it is quite
+unnecessary to insist upon. If any officer should have made himself
+unpopular at the Horse Guards, or amongst his fellow-officers, no matter
+by what line of conduct, by being worse or better than the general and
+approved standard—it would be strange if his enemies could not fasten
+upon some act they could pronounce “unbecoming,” and thereupon expel him
+from the service with disgrace and infamy.
+
+
+
+
+                         A FAREWELL TO NAPLES.
+
+
+I.
+
+      A glorious amphitheatre, whose girth
+      Exceeds three-fold th’ horizons of the north,
+      Mixing our pleasure in a goblet wide,
+      With hard, firm rim through clear air far-descried;
+      Illumined mountains, on whose heavenly slopes,
+      Quick, busy shades rehearse, while Phœbus drops,
+      Dramatic parts in scenic mysteries;
+      Far-shadowing islands, and exulting seas
+      With cities girt, that catch, till day is done,
+      Successive glances from the circling sun,
+      And cast a snowy gleam across the blue:—
+      A gulf that, to its lakelike softness true,
+      Reveres the stillness of the syren’s cell,
+      Yet knows the ocean’s roll, and loves it well;
+      A gulf where Zephyr oft, with noontide heat
+      Oppressed, descends to bathe his sacred feet,
+      And, at the first cold touch, at once reviving,
+      Sinks to the wings in joy, before him driving
+      A feathery foam into the lemon groves;—
+      Evasive, zone-like sands and secret coves;
+      Translucent waves that, heaved with motion slow,
+      On fanes submerged a brighter gleam bestow;
+      Fair hamlets, streets with odorous myrtles spread,
+      Bruised by processions grave with soundless tread,
+      That leave (the Duomo entered) on the mind
+      A pomp confused, and music on the wind;
+      Smooth, mounded banks like inland coasts and capes,
+      That take from seas extinct their sinuous shapes,
+      And girdle plains whose growths, fire-fed below,
+      In bacchanal exuberance burst and blow;
+      A light Olympian and an air divine—
+      Naples! if these are blessings, they are thine.
+
+
+                          II.
+
+      Thy sands we paced in sunlight and soft gloom;
+      From Tasso’s birthplace roamed to Virgil’s tomb.
+      Baia! thy haunts we trod, and glowing caves
+      Whose ambushed ardours pant o’er vine-decked waves.
+      Thy cliffs we coasted, loitered in thy creeks,
+      O shaggy island[6] with the five gray peaks!
+      Explored thy grotto, scaled thy fortress, where
+      Thy dark-eyed maids trip down the rocky stair,
+      With glance cast backward, laugh of playful scorn,
+      And cheek carnationed with the lights of morn.
+      The hills Lactarean lodged us in their breast:
+      Shadowy Sorrento to her spicy rest
+      Called us from far with gales embalmed, yet pure;
+      Her orange brakes we pierced, and ranged her rifts obscure.
+      Breathless along Pompeii’s streets we strayed
+      By songless fount, mosaic undecayed,
+      Voluptuous tomb, still forum, painted hall,
+      Where wreathed Bacchantes float on every wall;
+      Where Ariadne, by the purple deep,
+      Hears not those panting sails, but smiles in sleep;
+      Where yet Silenus grasps the woodland cup,
+      And buried Pleasure from its grave looks up.
+      Lastly, the great Vesuvian steep we clomb;
+      Then, Naples! made once more with thee our home.
+      We leave thee now—but first, with just review,
+      We cast the account, and strike the balance true—
+      And thus, as forth we move, we take our last adieu.
+
+
+                          III.
+
+      From her whom genius never yet inspired,
+      Or virtue raised, or pulse heroic fired;
+      From her who, in the grand historic page,
+      Maintains one barren blank from age to age;
+      From her, with insect life and insect buz,
+      Who, evermore unresting, nothing does;
+      From her who, with the future and the past
+      No commerce holds, no structure rears to last:
+      From streets where priests and jesters, side by side,
+      Range the rank markets, and their gains divide;
+      Where faith in art, and art in sense is lost,
+      And toys and gewgaws form a nation’s boast;
+      Where Passion, from Affection’s bond cut loose,
+      Revels in orgies of its own abuse;
+      And appetite, from Passion’s portals thrust,
+      Creeps on its belly to its grave of dust;
+      Where Vice her mask disdains, where Fraud is loud,
+      And naught but Wisdom dumb and Justice cowed;—
+      Lastly, from her who planted here unawed,
+      ’Mid heaven-topped hills, and waters bright and broad,
+      Lacks heart to gather, and lacks strength to bear,
+      From these, one impulse of the free and fair;
+      And, girt not less with ruin, lives to show
+      That worse than wasted weal is wasted woe,—
+      We part; forth issuing through her closing gate,
+      With unreverting faces, not ingrate.
+
+
+
+
+                         BARBARIAN RAMBLES.[7]
+
+
+That great geniuses meet, is a saying almost as ancient as the twin
+rocks that give a title to Mr David Urquhart’s latest literary
+production. But not often is the same country visited and described,
+within the short space of two years, by two such distinguished persons
+as the member for Stafford and the author of _Monte-Christo_. For the
+honour of their presence, the shores of Barbary and Andalusia are
+indebted to the chapter of accidents. “I did not visit Morocco or Spain
+on any settled plan. I was on my way to Italy by sea, and, passing
+through the straits of Gibraltar, was so fascinated by the beauty and
+mysteries of the adjoining lands, that I relinquished my proposed
+excursion for the explorations which are here recorded.” Thus far the
+Celt. Hear the Gaul’s reply to the Bey of Tunis, when questioned as to
+the motive of his African excursion,—“I answered, that I had the honour
+to be known to the king and princes of France; that I had the misfortune
+to be on tolerably bad terms with the father, but the happiness to stand
+pretty well with the sons; that one of these sons, of whom he (the Bey)
+had doubtless heard speak, and who was dead—M. le Duc d’Orléans—had more
+than once deigned to call me his friend; that another son, still better
+known to him than the first,—M. le Duc de Montpensier—had inherited his
+brother’s friendship for me, and had invited me to his wedding, which
+had just taken place at Madrid; that, being at Madrid, I desired to push
+on to Algiers, and, once at Algiers, I felt unwilling to quit Africa
+without saying a prayer upon the tomb of St Louis, who was, as he surely
+knew, a great _marabout_; that I was on my way to perform this duty,
+when I heard that he did me the honour to expect me, whereupon I
+hastened to pay him my respects.” Such trivial causes lead to great
+results! To the Montpensier marriage is the Bey of Tunis indebted for an
+interview with the first of French novelists, and the European world for
+the narrative of his African travels. We hesitated before associating
+the two books that form the theme of this article. We feared to rouse M.
+Dumas’ indignation, by coupling him with an author whom he, with his
+usual supercilious disesteem of things British, will probably set down
+as _un pédant Ecossais_. On the other hand, we thought it possible so
+grave and erudite a person as Mr Urquhart might consider his labours
+slighted, when linked with the playful superficialities of _Le Véloce_;
+and from this apprehension we were relieved, only upon finding him quote
+his French cotemporary’s Spanish tour with an air of greater approval
+than he usually bestows upon the works of recent writers on Spain. For
+it is not the most amiable of his peculiarities, that his references to
+brother travellers are generally censorious. He seems to have vowed
+opposition and animosity to all who have rambled and written over the
+same ground as himself. Blanco White, George Borrow, Richard Ford, and
+various others of less note, in turn come in for correction or a sneer.
+The last-named is particularly ill-treated. “To Mr Ford’s book, however
+disagreeable the task, I had intended to devote a special chapter; but,
+understanding that the two volumes are, in the second edition, reduced
+to one, I must infer that the author has anticipated my conclusion,—that
+the work might be made valuable by cutting out the slang, ribaldry,
+opinions, and false quotations.” Should _The Pillars of Hercules_ reach
+a second edition, either condensed, or in its present diffuse form, we
+advise its author to cut out this passage, or at least to correct its
+discourtesy and exaggeration. So harsh and unjust a verdict drives us to
+the inference that, owing to some mental idiosyncrasy of Mr Urquhart’s,
+the chief merits of the book he decries altogether escape his
+perception; and that, whilst dwelling upon an occasional
+error—pardonable in a work embracing so great a variety of subject, and
+such a mass of detail—and condemning those opinions that are so
+unfortunate as to differ from his own, he totally overlooks the racy
+humour, the happy illustrations, the felicitous exposition of Spanish
+foibles and characteristics, the intimate knowledge of the country and
+its customs, which place the author of the _Handbook_ and _Gatherings_
+amongst the very highest authorities respecting modern Spain. But we
+need not take up the cudgels for Richard Ford, whose works will stand
+upon their own bottom, and whose acute and pungent pen is quite able to
+defend his literary offspring, should he think it worth his while, even
+against his present formidable assailant.
+
+There can be no doubt about the disappointment of those persons who open
+_The Pillars of Hercules_ in expectation of finding what the title
+promises—a narrative of travel in Spain and Morocco. These countries are
+certainly mentioned here and there in the two bulky octavos, but quite
+subordinately to a variety of other matters which had perhaps better
+been treated elsewhere than in the professed book of travels they cumber
+and overload. Mr Urquhart, who has published volumes and pamphlets on
+innumerable subjects, social and political, foreign and domestic,
+appears to have had by him a heterogeneous mass of essays and
+dissertations, which he has now strung, pretty much at random, upon the
+slender thread of his Spanish-African ramble. Wearisomely discursive and
+desultory, he continually canters off to distant regions, and to
+subjects foreign to his text. Thus we have a chapter on the invention
+and antiquity of glass; another concerning the magnetic needle; a third
+and fourth, in which we are taken to America, Ceylon, China, and other
+remote places; one about the celebrated drug hashish, which temporarily
+transports its votaries into paradise. This is presently succeeded by a
+dissertation on buttered muffins; and shortly thereafter we arrive at a
+long essay on the early races of Spain and Mauritania, which we take for
+granted to be exceedingly learned and important, and which we are quite
+sure is awfully heavy and uninteresting. Etymology is a hobby of this
+author’s, and the portions of his work devoted to it would, of
+themselves, make a good-sized volume, by whose separation the book would
+be greatly lightened and advantaged. On the subject of corporal
+purification he grows positively eloquent and impassioned; and so minute
+are his descriptions of the scrubbing and scraping processes, by which
+alone men become fit to live, that he very rightly deems a prefatory
+apology essential. On this head more anon. We pause, for a specimen of
+solemn trifling, at Chapter Nine, Book the First, Volume the First.
+Nominally an “Excursion round the Straits,” it is actually an essay on
+costume, commencing with Spanish petticoats, giving a passing glance to
+the history and origin of lace, asserting the identity of the Moorish
+and Highland garb, and closing with an argument in favour of the
+importance and moral influence of a national dress. The chapter opens
+with praises of Cadiz, a city so long accustomed to rhyme with “ladies,”
+that it will hardly feel surprise or annoyance at Mr Urquhart’s
+attributing its charm less to the beauty of its buildings than to the
+“swarm of women,” with “fluttering eyes,” and “silk blonde tresses,”
+covering the floor of the cathedral. From tresses to dresses the
+transition is easy, and he proceeds to discourse upon the mantilla: not
+a very novel subject certainly, but one upon which he, nevertheless,
+contrives to cast some new lights—lights that would, we suspect, rather
+dazzle and astonish the amiable Gaditanas, whose habits and habiliments
+he professes to describe. Whilst stigmatising as “a bagged hood” the
+most graceful and elegant description of mantilla—that, namely, composed
+entirely of lace, and which is in fact the only kind worn by the higher
+classes of Spanish women—he informs us that “in windy weather the
+mantilla is secured against the cheek by the tip of the fan.” We laugh
+horribly as we summon up, at this conjuror’s bidding, a procession of
+mantilla-draped dames and damsels tripping the Alameda on a breezy day,
+each one of them with the extremity of her fan poked into her dexter
+jaw. Spanish women know better how to use that active little instrument
+of flirtation. Passing over these and other slight absurdities, we
+arrive at the hair-dressing department. Here Mr Urquhart is at first
+rather puzzled. But he will not be baffled, and goes to the very roots
+of the capillaries. “The hair is dressed in two styles. One is called
+_sarrano_. The only explanation I could get for this name was, that
+_sierra_ means mountain, and that the mountaineers dress in this way.
+But neither does it seem to be the style of the sierra, nor does the
+word _sarrano_ mean mountain: there is, indeed, no such word in
+Spanish.” When ascertaining this last fact by reference to his
+dictionary, it is strange that our traveller did not stumble upon the
+word “_Serrano_, subs. mountaineer; adj. pertaining to mountains,” and
+which is, in fact, the very word applied to the style of head-dress in
+question, his ear having doubtless misled him as to the _e_ and _a_.
+This guides us to two derivations. First, the one furnished him by the
+natives, that the style in question is or was particularly affected by
+the dwellers in the Andalusian sierras, as it still is by the
+mountaineers of Catalonia. A second explanation may be found in the form
+of the comb that accompanies this mode of head-dress, (but of which Mr
+Urquhart makes no mention,) and whose turreted or dentated crest, rising
+full four inches perpendicularly from the crown of the head, may have
+suggested the term _serrano_, by its elevation and imaginary resemblance
+to a row of hill-tops. But such interpretations as these are far too
+simple and vulgar to suit Mr Urquhart, who loves to journey by
+roundabout roads, and would make, like Monkbarns, a Roman sacrificing
+vessel out of a kail-supper’s ladle. He bores and proses away till he
+proves, quite to his own satisfaction, that “sarrano head-dress means
+neither more nor less than Tyrian head-dress. Such an etymology is by no
+means far-fetched.” Certainly not, when compared with others scattered
+through the book, although even this one may be considered rather _tiré
+par les cheveux_: and, moreover, the whole fabric is overthrown by the
+word proving to be serrano. But the hunting after derivations is a
+passion with Mr Urquhart, and leads him to the unearthing of affinities
+which nobody else would suspect. We confess ourselves so overwhelmed by
+the flux of erudition, by the multiplicity of languages brought to bear,
+and by the extraordinary etymons assigned to words with which they have
+nothing visible in common, that we resign ourselves to believe in
+Urquhart, and are prepared to admit, at his dictation, the old
+derivation of cucumber from Jeremiah King as perfectly valid, and
+consonant to all received laws. So fond is the honourable gentleman of
+this grubbing for roots, that, when once he stumbles on a derivation, he
+goes on through a whole alphabet of them; like a child who, having begun
+to run down hill, is unable to stop till it reaches the plain, or falls
+exhausted by the road-side. We doubt if many of his readers will share
+the avidity with which he pursues his dry and long-winded
+investigations, which would be more in place in a dictionary of
+derivations than in a narrative of travel.
+
+Our intention, in bringing Messrs Dumas and Urquhart into juxtaposition,
+is by no means to compare them, or to exalt either at the expense of the
+other. Their books form the strongest possible contrast. In one respect
+only do they agree—in a propensity to ramble from their subject. We have
+hinted at the crotchets that lead the Highlander from his track; the
+Frenchman strays in quest of the dramatic and romantic, and is beguiled
+by his prodigious vanity into the most divertingly egotistical details.
+The one is an eccentric dogmatist, full of crotchets, but unobtrusive of
+his individuality; the other never loses sight of himself, nor will
+suffer his reader to do so. He is always in the foreground of the
+picture, the chief character on the canvass, the hero of his own comedy;
+or, if for a moment he retires from the foot-lamps, it is that their
+light may shine upon his son and heir, Alexander the younger, a _grand
+garçon blond_, and one of the half-score artists and literati who
+compose the suite of the illustrious Monte-Christo. When the travellers
+arrived at Cadiz, in November 1846, Mr Dumas junior was suddenly
+discovered to be missing. Fascinated by the bright eyes of a Cordovan
+maiden, he had given his friends the slip. Although somewhat uneasy, his
+father contented himself with detaching one of his staff in quest of the
+truant, and went on board the war-steamer Véloce, which had been placed
+at his disposal by the Minister of Public Instruction. Some of our
+readers may remember that, about three years ago, this circumstance gave
+rise to a discussion in the French Chamber, when some doubt was thrown
+upon the fact of M. Dumas being intrusted with a government mission.
+This seems to have annoyed the distinguished dramatist, who repeatedly
+refers to the subject, gives a copy of his passport and of certain
+official letters; and upbraids M. Guizot, whom he at last, however,
+magnanimously forgives, declaring he has forgotten his name. He then
+protests against the envy of which his eminent position has rendered him
+the object, and concludes his remarks, made in a tone of dignified and
+chastened indignation, with the following striking passage:—“The steamer
+thus placed at my disposal has made me more enemies than _Antony_ and
+_Monte-Christo_, which is saying not a little. It was in 1823 or 1824, I
+believe, that Sir Walter Scott, being then in bad health, expressed a
+wish to make a voyage to Italy. The English admiralty placed its finest
+frigate at the disposal of the author of _Ivanhoe_; and England
+applauded, and the two houses of parliament applauded, and the very
+newspapers clapped their hands approvingly. And it was well done; for,
+for the first time perhaps, the flag with the three leopards was saluted
+in every port of the Mediterranean by the enthusiastic acclamations of
+the people. Were those acclamations for the flag, or for the man of
+genius it sheltered? for the unknown captain of the frigate, whose name
+I never heard, or for Sir Walter Scott? True, I may be told that I am
+not Sir Walter Scott; but to this I reply, that it is the great
+misfortune of living men in France not to know what they are, so long as
+they _are_ living.”
+
+How very good is this quiet assertion of merit and anticipation of
+posthumous appreciation by an ungrateful country. “The steamer,”
+continues the possible future rival of Scott, “was granted me—be it as a
+matter of favour, or as an act of justice; and Government consented to
+expend for me some sixteen thousand francs’ worth of coal. It is right
+the world should know that this voyage, which caused such an outcry,
+cost the Government sixteen thousand francs. Just half what it cost me!”
+A paltry eight hundred napoleons! Can France regret it, when applied to
+the service of her brightest literary ornament? Let her read the
+_Véloce_, and take shame for her shabbiness. Astride upon his fiery
+charger, the giant commenced his cruise. Need we say that all eyes were
+upon him as he boarded the steamer, and that he took by assault the
+hearts of the entire ship’s company, whom he seized an early opportunity
+to convince that his skill was as great with the fowling-piece as with
+the pen. “The Véloce was surrounded by a flock of sea-fowl; on
+approaching the vessel, desirous to give our future companions a
+specimen of my dexterity, I fired my two barrels at a brace of gulls,
+both of which fell. The yawl pulled to pick them up; and, after this
+brilliant feat, we proceeded triumphantly to the steamer.” This is the
+first and least considerable of a series of “brilliant feats” of the
+same kind, recorded by M. Dumas of himself in the pages of _Le Véloce_.
+At Tangiers, his first landing-place in Africa, he goes out shooting,
+and encounters an Arab, the first he has seen. This meeting furnishes a
+chapter—a sort of parody of scenes in Scott and Cooper, the parts of
+Robin Hood and Leatherstocking by M. Alexandre Dumas. He has just shot a
+small bird, when the Arab appears and doubts his having killed it on the
+wing. A trial of skill ensues between the Parisian and the Bedouin, the
+former promising the latter, who is unwilling to waste his powder, six
+charges for every one he fires away. The Arab fires at a plover and
+misses. M. Dumas brings down a snipe. The Arab smiles.
+
+“‘The Frenchman shoots well,’ he said; ‘but a true hunter uses not shot,
+but a ball.’ The janissary translated his words to me.
+
+“‘’Tis true’ I replied; ‘tell him I quite agree with him, and that, if
+he will fix upon a mark, I engage to do what he does.’
+
+“‘The Frenchman owes me six charges of powder,’ quoth the Arab.
+
+“‘True again,’ I replied; ‘let the Arab hold out his hand.’ He held it
+out, and I emptied into it about a third of the contents of my flask. He
+produced his horn, and poured in the powder to the very last grain. This
+done, he would evidently have been well-pleased to depart; but that
+would not answer the purpose of Giraud and Boulanger, who had not yet
+finished their sketches. Accordingly, at the first movement he made,
+
+“‘Remind your countryman,’ said I to El-Arbi-Bernat, ‘that we have each
+of us to send a bullet somewhere, whithersoever he pleases.’
+
+“‘Yes,’ said the Arab. He looked about and found a stick, which he
+picked up, and then again set himself to seek for something. I had in my
+pocket a letter from one of my nephews, employed on His Majesty’s
+private domain: this letter reposed peaceably in its square envelope,
+adorned with a red seal; I give it to the Arab, suspecting he was
+looking for it, or for something like it. The letter was the very thing
+for a target. The Arab understood at once; he split the end of the stick
+with his knife, stuck in the letter, planted the stick in the sand, and
+returned to us, counting twenty-five paces. Then he loaded his gun. I
+had a double-barrelled rifle, ready loaded; an excellent weapon, made by
+Devisme: in each of its barrels was one of those pointed bullets with
+which one kills a man at fifteen hundred metres, (an English mile; well
+done, M. Dumas!) I took it from Paul, its usual bearer, and I waited.
+
+“The Arab took aim with a care which showed the importance he attached
+to not being vanquished a second time. He fired, and his bullet carried
+off a corner of the envelope. Masters of themselves as Arabs generally
+are, ours could not restrain a cry of joy as he pointed to the rent in
+the paper. I made sign that I saw it perfectly well. He addressed to me
+a few animated words.
+
+“‘He says it is your turn,’ interpreted the janissary.
+
+“‘Certainly,’ I replied; ‘but tell him that in France we do not fire at
+so short a distance.’ I measured fifty paces. He watched me with
+astonishment. ‘Now,’ said I, ‘tell him that, with the first shot, I will
+hit the target nearer the centre than he has done; and with the second I
+will cut the stick that sustains it.’
+
+“In my turn I took a careful aim; I had not come to Africa to leave a
+wrong prospectus; and, having declared my game, I was bound to play it
+well. The first ball sped, and broke the seal. The second followed
+almost immediately, and cut the stick. The Arab threw his gun on his
+shoulder, and walked away, without claiming the six charges of powder he
+was entitled to. It was evident he felt crushed under the weight of his
+inferiority, and that, at that moment, he doubted of everything, even of
+the Prophet. He followed the circular road along the beach, leading to
+Tangiers, and reached the town, I am certain, without having once turned
+his head. Two or three Arabs, who in the meanwhile had crossed the Oued,
+and who had witnessed the trial of skill, departed as silently, and
+almost in as great consternation, as their countryman. All Morocco was
+humiliated in the person of its representative.”
+
+Mr Urquhart and Mr Dumas each made some stay at Tangiers, but, as will
+easily be understood, they employed their time very differently, and
+have scarcely an idea in common on the subject. The one talks politics,
+dissects languages and makes antiquarian investigations; the other,
+after the shooting match above detailed, and some rather high-flown
+attempts at description of scenery, goes fishing and boar-hunting,
+attends a Jewish wedding, and purchases half the stock in trade of David
+Azencot, an honest Israelite, and a wealthy dealer in sabres, burnous,
+scarfs, lamps, chibouks, and a thousand and one other Moorish
+curiosities. The Scot is didactic and dull; the Frenchman frivolous, but
+amusing. Of course they both visit Gibraltar, and devote a chapter to
+that remarkable fortress; and here we must say that M. Dumas carries it
+hollow, as far as pleasant tone and good taste go. As is customary with
+him, he is flippant and good-humouredly impertinent; but he shows
+himself grateful for a hospitable reception, and does not rake up old
+stories to the disadvantage of the dead. He begins with the notable
+discovery that Gibraltar has a foggy atmosphere. The English, he says,
+being used to a fog in their own country, have manufactured one, by the
+help of sea-coal, upon the coast of Spain. The English, he affirms,
+strive against and vanquish nature herself. “They have produced dahlias
+that smell like pinks, cherries without stones, gooseberries without
+grains, and they are now rearing oxen without legs. Behold, for
+instance, those of the county of Durham; they have but one joint, and
+walk almost upon their belly. Soon they will have no joints at all, and
+will walk quite upon their belly. Thus it is with the fog. There was no
+fog at Gibraltar before it belonged to the English; but the English were
+accustomed to fog, they missed it, and they made it.... On entering
+Gibraltar, I felt that I quitted Spain. Tangiers, which we had just
+left, was much more Spanish than Gibraltar. Hardly had we passed the
+gate, when we were transported into England. No more pointed pavements,
+no more latticed houses and green _jalousies_, no more of those charming
+_patios_, with marble fountains in the midst of the shops: but
+clothiers, cutlers, armourers, hotels with the arms of Great Britain,
+flagged footpaths, fair women, red officers, and English horses. Tom
+Thumb had lent us his boots, and each step we had taken from the deck of
+the Véloce had carried us seven leagues. We entered a _restaurant_. We
+ate raw beefsteaks, sandwiches, butter, moistening them with ale and
+porter; but when, after breakfast, we asked for a glass of Malaga, they
+were obliged to send out for it. On the other hand, the tea was
+irreproachable.” This is a very fair skit on the Englishman’s habit of
+carrying his country’s usages into climates for which they are totally
+unadapted. Although feeling, according to his own account, far from at
+his ease in this British military colony, of whose warlike aspect and
+regulations he sketches a ludicrous caricature, M. Dumas would not leave
+it without paying a visit to the governor; and, lest the anonymous lady
+to whom his African letters are addressed should be unable to comprehend
+this unusual (?) desire on his part to make the acquaintance of those in
+high places, he beguiles the time, till the governor returns from his
+ride, by telling the story of Lavalette. No matter that it has been
+pretty often told; related _à la Dumas_, that is to say, with a
+superabundance of detail, it covers a few pages, and explains his wish
+for an interview with the English general. “Sir Robert Wilson, a
+magnificent old man, sixty-six or sixty-eight years of age, who still
+breaks his own horses, and rides ten leagues every day, gave me a
+charming reception. I was so imprudent as to express my admiration of
+some Moorish pottery-wares upon his sideboard, and I found them in my
+cabin on returning to the Véloce. If anything could have induced me to
+remain another day at Gibraltar, it would have been the pressing
+invitation Sir Robert Wilson was kind enough to give me. Impressed with
+a lively sentiment of admiration, I left this noble and loyal-hearted
+man. May God grant long and happy days to him, to whom another man was
+indebted for long days of happiness.” All his admiration of Lavalette’s
+saviour was insufficient to detain him in Gibraltar, which he declares
+himself to have quitted with as strong a sensation of relief as
+Napoleon’s ex-aide-de-camp can have felt when, thanks to Sir Robert
+Wilson’s chivalry, he safely set foot across France’s frontier. French
+and English are now well used to each other’s jocular sarcasm, and are
+never the worse friends for it, because it is the interest of both to
+remain in amity. There is no venom in M. Dumas’ playful satire, which
+one glances over with a smile, quitting it with regret for the croakings
+of Mr Urquhart. This gentleman has some very peculiar notions respecting
+Gibraltar, whose restoration to Spain he strongly advocates, and to
+whose retention by Great Britain he ascribes a frightful catalogue of
+evils, including sundry European wars, fifty-five millions sterling
+unprofitably sunk, and the undying hatred of Spain towards this
+country—bringing no less a witness than Napoleon to the truth of this
+last assertion. The fifty-five millions are “suggested as a rough guess”
+at the actual outlay; and besides them, we are assured, hundreds of
+millions have been spent on wars entailed by our possession of
+Gibraltar. All this is too vaguely put, seriously to challenge argument
+or refutation; and as to the “undying hatred,” why, the anti-English
+party in Spain may occasionally bluster about the hole in the national
+honour, and so forth; but the great majority of the nation never bestow
+a thought upon the matter, and the smuggling portion of the community—no
+uninfluential class—find Gibraltar exceedingly convenient for their
+contraband traffic. But Mr Urquhart’s statements on this head are very
+loose, and some of them very fallacious; and he attains the climax of
+absurdity and misrepresentation when he says, that “the fiscal
+regulations of Spain, which sustain this (contraband) traffic, would
+long since have fallen but for its (Gibraltar’s) retention by England.
+We therefore lose the legitimate trade of all Spain, for the smuggling
+profits (which go to the Spaniards) at this port.” The sort of jingle of
+plausibility in these sentences will impose only upon persons profoundly
+ignorant of the subject. The assertion is made in the teeth of notorious
+facts, and is opposed alike to truth and to common sense. The more
+difficult, dangerous, and expensive smuggling could be rendered, the
+less would be its injurious effect on the Spanish revenue, and the less
+likely would be a reduction of duties. The smuggling facilities afforded
+by Gibraltar, by the Portuguese frontier and the Pyrenean line, (Mr
+Urquhart, it has been seen, wholly ignores the two latter channels, and
+lays the high-duty system entirely at the door of Gibraltar,) have, by
+limiting the custom-house receipts to the merest trifle, contributed,
+more than any other cause, to fix the attention of the Spanish
+government on the advantage to be derived from reductions in their
+monstrous tariff—reductions which the last four months have beheld
+carried out, although as yet but to an exceedingly limited extent. This
+subject, however, has of late been so fully discussed in our pages that
+we shall not here pursue it further, particularly as it is evident that
+Mr Urquhart has still to become acquainted with its rudiments. It were
+more amusing, although scarcely more profitable, to dwell upon a
+subsequent chapter, where, reverting to Gibraltar, the honourable
+gentleman tilts at its late governor, and raises the Russian bugbear—a
+goblin which he would doubtless always manage to evoke, in whatsoever
+part of the world he chanced to find himself. In portentous italics he
+tells us as how “a Russian steam-vessel of war was admitted to the quay
+of her Majesty’s vessels to get coal, which was furnished her from the
+royal stores, while French men-of-war were allowed no such indulgence;
+on departing she _was saluted by the fortress with twenty-one guns_!
+This I witnessed with my own eyes, and heard with my own ears. The
+assembled crowd said, ‘_Es loco_’—‘he is mad.’” Is Mr Urquhart certain
+to whom the crowd’s exclamation referred? His pet crotchet is by this
+time pretty generally recognised; and even his best friends, and a few
+partial admirers, cannot choose but smile at the tenacity of his
+monomania, and at the moonshine illumination he throws upon Russian
+designs and their British abettors. Truly he is a dead hand at a mare’s
+nest. With a scuttle of coals and a blank cartridge, he would build up a
+powder-plot, and talks darkly and ominously about “the system of
+government (in England) by secresy and intrigue.” We do think, however,
+he would have done more gracefully to let Sir Robert Wilson alone.
+“Since the above was written,” he says, “Sir Robert Wilson has
+disappeared from the scene. I do not on that account suppress what I
+have written, as I have not brought any charge against him.” No new
+charge; but he has revived and dragged forth an old one, wellnigh
+forgotten under the moss of years and the laurels of the departed
+veteran. It is no generous hand that will approach, otherwise than
+kindly and with reverence, the memory of the gallant soldier of the
+Peninsula, the brave defender of Portugal, the stout fighter by Dresden,
+of whom it has so truly been said, that “he ever was foremost where
+danger was to be encountered or glory won.”[8]
+
+Totally dissimilar in character as are the two works under examination,
+the transitions from the one to the other are yet astonishingly easy.
+Thus Mr Urquhart’s Muscovite nightmare leads us, in the most natural
+manner possible, to a tale of a cotton nightcap, related by his witty
+contemporary. At Tunis, M. Dumas was quite confounded by the prevalence
+of this unpoetical but comfortable head-dress, which he constantly met
+with in the streets and on the quays. Puzzled at its naturalisation in a
+clime so remote from its native country, (an honour which he claims for
+France,) and being of an inquisitive turn of mind, he instituted
+inquiries, and received for explanation an anecdote, which we shall here
+transcribe, as nearly as possible, in his own phraseology. We feel that
+we neglect Mr Urquhart, and ought by right to give precedence of extract
+to his muffin-investigation; but really the nightcap story is much more
+amusing, and quite as important, although it may possibly owe more to
+its narrator’s imagination.
+
+About twenty years ago, according to M. Dumas, under the reign of a
+former Bey, a ship bound from Marseilles to Gibraltar, with a cargo of
+cotton nightcaps, was driven by a gale into Tunis roads. At that period
+a duty was levied on vessels availing themselves of the port of Tunis;
+and this duty, depending on the caprice of the Raïa-marsa, or captain of
+the port, was very arbitrary. The Marseilles captain was naturally
+subjected to this impost; still more naturally the Raïa-marsa fixed it
+at an exorbitant sum. There was, however, no alternative but to pay: the
+unlucky speculator in nightcaps lay beneath the paw of the lion. With
+the loss of part of his skin, he slipped between the beast’s claws, and
+ran to throw himself at the feet of the Bey. The Bey hearkened to the
+complaint of the Giaour. When he had heard it, and had satisfied himself
+that the amount of extortion had been rightly stated by its victim, he
+said:—
+
+“Do you desire Turkish justice or French justice?”
+
+After long reflection, the Marseillese, with a confidence that did
+honour to the legislation of his native land, replied:
+
+“French justice.”
+
+“’Tis good,” replied the Bey; “return to thy ship and wait.”
+
+The seaman kissed his highness’s papooshes, returned to his ship, and
+waited. He waited one month, two months, three months. At the end of the
+third month, finding the time rather long, he went ashore, and watched
+for the Bey to pass by. The Bey appeared: the captain threw himself at
+his feet.
+
+“Highness,” said he, “you have forgotten me?”
+
+“By no means,” replied the Bey; “you are the captain of the French ship
+who complained to me of the Raïa-marsa?”
+
+“And to whom you promised justice!”
+
+“Yes; but French justice.”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“Well, of what do you now complain?”
+
+“Of having waited three months for it.”
+
+“Listen,” said the Bey. “Three years ago your consul treated me with
+disrespect; I complained to your king, claiming justice at his hands,
+and three years have I waited for it: come back in three years, and we
+will see.”
+
+“The deuce!” exclaimed the captain, who began to understand; “and is
+there no means of abridging the delay, your highness?”
+
+“You asked for French justice.”
+
+“But if I had asked for Turkish justice?”
+
+“That were different: it had been done you on the instant.”
+
+“Is it too late to change my mind?”
+
+“It is never too late to do wisely.”
+
+“Turkish justice then, highness—grant me Turkish justice!”
+
+“’Tis good. Follow me.”
+
+The captain kissed the Bey’s papooshes, and followed him to his palace.
+Arrived there: “How much did the Raïa-marsa exact from you?” inquired
+the Bey.
+
+“Fifteen hundred francs.”
+
+“And you consider that sum too large?”
+
+“Highness, such is my humble opinion.”
+
+“Too large by how much?”
+
+“By at least two-thirds.”
+
+“’Tis just; here are fifteen hundred piastres, making exactly a thousand
+francs.”
+
+“Highness,” said the captain, “you are the balance of divine justice,”
+and he kissed the papooshes of the Bey, and was about to depart. The Bey
+stopped him.
+
+“Have you no other claim to prefer?” he said.
+
+“One I certainly have, highness, but I dare not.”
+
+“Dare, and speak.”
+
+“It seems to me that I deserve compensation for the time I have lost,
+whilst awaiting the memorable decision your highness has just
+pronounced.”
+
+“’Tis just.”
+
+“The rather,” continued the captain, emboldened by the Bey’s
+approbation, “that I was expected at Gibraltar in the beginning of the
+winter, which is now over, and the favourable season for the sale of my
+cargo is past.”
+
+“And of what does thy cargo consist?” demanded the Bey.
+
+“Highness, of cotton nightcaps.”
+
+“What are cotton nightcaps?”
+
+The captain took from his pocket a specimen of his goods, and presented
+it to the Bey.
+
+“For what purpose is this utensil?” said the latter.
+
+“To cover the head,” replied the captain. And joining example to
+precept, he put on the nightcap.
+
+“It is very ugly,” quoth the Bey.
+
+“But very comfortable,” retorted the captain.
+
+“And you say that my delay to do you justice has occasioned you a loss?”
+
+“Of ten thousand francs, at least, highness.”
+
+The Bey called his secretary. The secretary entered, crossed his hands
+upon his breast, and bowed to the ground. Then he took his pen, and the
+Bey dictated to him a few lines, which, being in Arabic, were totally
+unintelligible to the captain. When the secretary had done writing:
+“’Tis good,” said the Bey; “let this decree be proclaimed throughout the
+city.” Again the secretary crossed his hands upon his breast, bent
+himself to the earth, and departed.
+
+“Craving your highness’s pardon,” said the captain, “may I venture to
+inquire the substance of that decree?”
+
+“Certainly; it is an order to all the Jews in Tunis to cover their
+heads, within twenty-four hours from this time, with a cotton nightcap,
+under penalty of decapitation.”
+
+“Ah! _tron de l’air_!” exclaimed the Marseillese; “I understand.”
+
+“Then if you understand, return to your ship, and make the best profit
+you can of your goods; you will soon have customers.” The captain threw
+himself at the feet of the Bey, kissed his papooshes and returned to his
+ship. Meanwhile, by sound of trumpet, and in all the streets of Tunis,
+the following proclamation was made.
+
+“Praises to Allah, the universal, to whom all things return!
+
+“The slave of Allah glorified, who implores his pardon and absolution,
+the Mouchir Sidi-Hussein-Pacha, Bey of Tunis:
+
+“Forbids every Jew, Israelite, or Nazarene, to appear in the streets of
+Tunis without a cotton nightcap upon his accursed and infidel head.
+
+“This, under pain of decapitation.
+
+“Giving to the unbelievers twenty-four hours to provide themselves with
+the said covering.
+
+“To this order all obedience is due.
+
+“Written under date of the 20th April, in the year 1243 of the Hegira.
+
+                                               (Signed,) “SIDI HUSSEIN.”
+
+You may fancy the sensation excited in Tunis by such a proclamation
+as this. The twenty-five thousand Jews who compose the Israelite
+population of the city looked aghast, and asked each other what was
+this eighth plague which thus descended upon the people chosen of
+the Lord. The most learned Rabbis were appealed to, but not one of
+them had a clear notion of what a cotton nightcap was. At last a
+_Gourni_—it is thus the Leghorn Jews are named—remembered to have
+once seen the crew of a Norman ship enter that port with the
+head-dress in question. It was something to know the article
+required; the next thing to be ascertained was, where it could be
+procured. Twelve thousand cotton nightcaps are not to be picked up
+at every street corner. The men wrung their hands, the women tore
+their hair, the children ate the dust upon the highway. Just when
+the cries of anguish were most piercing, and the desolation at its
+climax, a report spread through the multitude. It said that a ship
+laden with cotton nightcaps was then in the port. Inquiry was made.
+It was, said rumour, a three-master from Marseilles. The question
+was, would there be nightcaps enough? Were there twelve thousand of
+them—a cotton nightcap for everybody? There was a rush to the water
+side; in an instant a flotilla of boats, crowded almost to sinking,
+covered the lake, and it was a hot race out to the roads. At the
+Goulette there was fouling, and four or five boats were capsized;
+but as there are but four feet of water in the lake of Tunis, nobody
+was drowned. They cleared the narrow passage, and approached the
+good ship _Notre Dame de la Garde_, whose captain was upon deck
+expecting their arrival. Through his telescope he had beheld the
+embarkation, the race, the accidents—everything in short. In less
+than ten minutes three hundred boats surrounded his vessel, and
+twelve thousand throats vociferated, “Cotton nightcaps! cotton
+nightcaps!” The captain signed with his hand for silence, and the
+noisy mob were mute as mice.
+
+“You want cotton nightcaps?” said he.
+
+“Yes! yes! yes!” was the reply on every side.
+
+“All very well,” said the captain; “but you are aware, gentlemen, that
+cotton nightcaps are just now in great request. My letters from Europe
+advise a rise in the article.”
+
+“We know that,” said the same voices—“we know that, and ve vill make a
+sacrifice.”
+
+“Listen to me,” said the captain; “I am an honest man.”
+
+The Jews trembled. The captain’s words were their invariable exordium
+when about to rob a Christian.
+
+“I will not take advantage of your position to impose upon you.”
+
+The Jews turned pale.
+
+“The cotton nightcaps cost me two francs apiece, one with the other.”
+
+“Vell, it ish not too dear,” muttered the Jews in their beards.
+
+“I will be satisfied with a hundred per cent profit,” continued the
+captain.
+
+“Hosannah!” cried the Jews.
+
+“At four francs apiece, cotton nightcaps!” said the captain, and twelve
+thousand hands were extended. “Order!” he continued; “come up on the
+larboard side, and go down on the starboard.” Every Jew crossed the
+vessel in turn, carried away a nightcap, and left four francs. The
+captain’s receipts were forty-eight thousand francs, whereof thirty-six
+thousand were clear profit. The twelve thousand Jews returned to Tunis,
+every man plus a cotton nightcap, and minus four francs.
+
+The next day the captain presented himself at the palace of the Bey, at
+whose feet he prostrated himself, and kissed his papooshes.
+
+“Well?” said the Bey.
+
+“Your highness,” said the captain, “I come to thank you.”
+
+“You are satisfied?”
+
+“Delighted.”
+
+“And you prefer Turkish justice to French justice?”
+
+“There is no comparison between them.”
+
+“This is not all,” said the Bey. And, turning to his secretary, he bade
+him take his pen and write at his dictation. The writing was a second
+decree, forbidding the Jews, under pain of death, to appear in the
+streets of Tunis with cotton nightcaps on their heads, and granting them
+twenty-four hours to dispose of their recent purchases as advantageously
+as possible.
+
+“Do you understand?” said the Bey to the captain.
+
+“Oh, highness!” cried the Marseillese in an ecstasy of delight, “you are
+the greatest of all Beys, past, present, and to come.”
+
+“Return to your vessel, and wait.”
+
+Half an hour later, the trumpets sounded in the streets of Tunis, and
+the town’s-people thronged to the unusual summons. Amongst the listeners
+the Jews were easily recognised by their triumphant air, and by their
+cotton nightcaps cocked over one ear. The decree was read in a loud and
+intelligible voice. The Jews’ first impulse was to throw their nightcaps
+into the fire. On reflection, however, the head of the synagogue saw
+that twenty-four hours were allowed to get rid of the proscribed
+articles. The Jew is essentially a calculating animal. The Jews of Tunis
+calculated that it was better to lose one half, or even three quarters,
+than to lose the whole. Having twenty-four hours to turn in, they began
+by driving a bargain with the boatmen, who on the previous occasion had
+abused their haste, and overcharged them. Two hours later, the French
+ship was again surrounded by boats.
+
+“Captain! captain!” cried twelve thousand voices. “Cotton nightcaps to
+shell! cotton nightcaps to shell!”
+
+“Pooh!” said the captain.
+
+“Captain, itsh a bargain; captain, you shall have them sheap.”
+
+“I have received a letter from Europe,” said the captain.
+
+“Vell! vell!”
+
+“It advises a great fall in cotton nightcaps.”
+
+“Captain, ve vill looshe upon them.”
+
+“So be it,” said the captain. “I can only give you half price.”
+
+“Ve vill take it.”
+
+“I bought them at two francs. Let those who will give them for one come
+on board by the starboard gangway, and depart by the larboard.”
+
+“Oh, captain!”
+
+“It’s to take or to leave, as you like.”
+
+“Captain.”
+
+“All hands to make sail!” shouted the captain.
+
+“Vat are you doing, captain? vat are you doing?”
+
+“Lifting my anchor, to be sure.”
+
+“Ah now, captain, can’t you shay two francs?”
+
+The captain continued to give orders for sailing.
+
+“Vell, captain, ve must shay thirty sous.”
+
+The mainsail expanded its folds, and the capstan began to creak.
+
+“Captain, captain! ve vill take your franc!”
+
+“Stop,” cried the captain.
+
+One by one the Jews ascended the starboard side and descended to
+larboard, leaving their cotton nightcaps, and receiving a franc apiece.
+For a miserable three francs they had twice saved their heads: it was
+not dear. As to the captain, he had got back his goods, and made a clear
+profit of thirty-six thousand francs. As he was a man who knew how to
+behave, he put eighteen thousand francs in his boat, went ashore, and
+presented himself before the Bey, at whose feet he again prostrated
+himself, and whose papooshes he once more kissed.
+
+“I come to present my humble thanks to your highness.”
+
+“Are you satisfied?”
+
+“Overjoyed.”
+
+“Do you consider the indemnity sufficient?”
+
+“Too much. And I come to offer your highness half my net profit of
+thirty-six thousand francs.”
+
+“Nonsense!” said the Bey. “Have you forgotten that I promised you
+Turkish justice?”
+
+“I perfectly remember.”
+
+“Well, Turkish justice is done gratis.”
+
+“_Tron de l’air!_” cried the captain: “in France a judge would not have
+been contented with half; he would have taken at least three quarters.”
+
+“You mistake,” said the Bey; “he would have taken the whole.”
+
+“Aha!” exclaimed the captain, “I see you know France as well as I do.”
+
+And once more he went down into the dust to kiss the Bey’s papooshes,
+but the Bey gave him his hand. The captain returned to his ship, and a
+quarter of an hour later he left the African coast under press of sail.
+He feared lest the Bey might change his mind.
+
+Their brief experience of the nightcap convinced the Tunisian Jews of
+its superiority to the yellow caps and black turbans with which they
+were wont to cover their infidel heads; and upon the death of the Bey
+they obtained permission from his successor to adopt the cotton
+covering, whose wear previously entailed decapitation. Such, at least,
+is the explanation given by the ingenious M. Dumas of the naturalisation
+of Paris nightcaps on the Barbary coast.
+
+Incidentally, and rather as things told him than of his own knowledge,
+Mr Urquhart gives some brief details of the celebrated French campaign
+against Morocco, in which Marshal Bugeaud won his dukedom, and Admiral
+Joinville immortalised his name. His account of the affair of Isly is
+contemptuous enough, and will assuredly entail upon him the indignation
+of France, or at least of that portion of Frenchmen who believe, or
+affect to believe, that there was a battle and a victory—not a surprise
+and a scamper, unexpected by the assailed, and bloodless to the
+assailants. “On the 14th August,” says Mr Urquhart, “the son of the
+sultan is awakened by an alarm, ‘_The French army is in sight_.’ He
+tells his people the marshal is coming to pay him a visit, before his
+departure; and after giving orders for a tent to be pitched, and
+coffee—which he knew the French liked—to be sought for and prepared, he
+again assumed, to use the phraseology of Antar, ‘the attitude of
+repose.’ He is again awakened—‘_The French are on us_’—and the French
+_were_ on them—found _the coffee ready_, and, instead of drinking, spilt
+it. The loss of the Moors was eight hundred men by _suffocation_.”
+Compare this statement with the reflection of Alexander Dumas, on
+approaching the mountains of Djema-r’ Azaouat. “Behind yonder hills,” he
+fervently exclaims, “are two great mementos, equal to Thermopylæ and
+Marathon—the combat of Sidi-Ibrahim, and the battle of Isly.” Funny Mr
+Dumas! how gravely he says these droll things. How many persons, out of
+France, remember to have heard of this modern Thermopylæ? We seriously
+suggest to Mr Dumas, whose indefatigable pen, although more particularly
+devoted to romance and the drama, occasionally flies at history, to
+write that of the conquest and colonisation of Algeria, in which would
+naturally be included the episode of the campaign against the Moors. We
+are quite sure his account of the battle of Isly will differ widely from
+that of Mr Urquhart: as widely as, or still more so than that of Admiral
+Bruat, which was addressed to the inhabitants of the Society Islands, in
+a proclamation quoted as a note to _The Pillars of Hercules_, and which
+Mr Urquhart declares, with much truth, to be highly deserving of a place
+in history. M. Dumas seems to us to be exactly cut out for the historian
+of his countrymen’s African exploits. The razzias and crop-burnings, the
+bloody skirmishes of Zouaves and Bedouins, the constant pursuit and many
+narrow escapes of the Emir, will acquire additionally romantic interest
+from the picturesque handling of the author of the _Mousquetaires_, who
+declares, in the pages of _Le Véloce_, that he is not only a soldier’s
+son, but himself a soldier at heart. With what glowing eloquence will he
+refute the various charges brought against his countrymen in Africa! “If
+Abd-el-Kader,” says Mr Urquhart, “had not been playing a game, at all
+events a game was played in his person. He was necessary to the French
+military system of Algiers. He is known to have been three times in
+their hands, and to have been suffered to escape.” This accusation has
+frequently been brought against the French generals in Africa. If such
+collusion existed, it was not subscribed to, according to M. Dumas, by
+Colonel Montagnac, who commanded, in the year 1845, the garrison of
+Djema-r’ Azaouat, and who had repeatedly sworn to take the Emir or lose
+his life. One day an Arab presented himself at the colonel’s quarters.
+He came from the chief of the neighbouring tribe of Souhalias, who was,
+he said, more devoted than ever to the French cause; and who sent word
+that, if the garrison would make a sortie, and place themselves in
+ambuscade on the territory of his tribe, he engaged to deliver
+Abd-el-Kader into their hands. Confiding in the Arab’s promise,
+Montagnac issued forth at the head of four hundred and eight men and
+twelve officers, including sixty-five cavalry. But on the second day he
+found he was betrayed, and that the promised capture was but a bait to
+lure him from his stronghold. The little band retraced their steps, and
+were within five leagues of Djema-r’ Azaouat, when they were menaced by
+an overwhelming force of Arabs and Kabyles; and in the distance the Emir
+himself, his banner displayed at the head of his regulars, was seen
+descending the hills. Two companies of French riflemen remained to guard
+the baggage; and the others, with the cavalry, advanced against the foe.
+After a desperate struggle, the main body was cut to pieces, or made
+prisoners; and a company, advancing from the bivouac to its support, was
+surrounded and exterminated. Of these combats, Mr Dumas gives a minute
+account, introducing dramatic dialogues between the men and officers,
+and imparting to the whole scene his usual vivid and animated colouring.
+Thus, when the company from the baggage-guard is marching up, only sixty
+strong, to the assistance of its comrades, and is suddenly surrounded,
+we find the following graphic account of its proceedings:—
+
+“The commanding officer had but just time to order formation of square.
+The manœuvre was executed under the fire of ten thousand Arabs (!) as it
+would have been in the Champ-de-Mars. Of all these men, only one showed
+signs of regret—none of fear. This was a young rifleman, twenty years
+old, named Ismaël.
+
+“‘Oh, _commandant_!’ he exclaimed, ‘we are lost!’
+
+“The commandant smiled upon the poor lad; he understood that at twenty
+years of age he knew so little of life that he had a right to regret it.
+
+“‘How old are you?’ he asked of the young soldier.
+
+“‘One-and-twenty,’ was the reply.
+
+“‘Well, you will have eighteen years less to suffer than I have had;
+look at me, and learn how to die with firm heart and head erect.’
+
+“He had scarcely spoken, when a bullet struck his forehead, and he fell
+as he had promised to fall. Five minutes later, Captain Burgaud had
+likewise fallen.
+
+“‘Come, my friends,’ said the non-commissioned adjutant Thomas, ‘one
+step forward: let us die upon the bodies of our officers.’
+
+“These were the last distinct words that were heard; the death-rattle
+followed them, then the silence of the grave. In its turn, the second
+company had disappeared. All that now remained was the company under
+Captain de Géreaux, left in charge of the camp.”
+
+Mr Dumas’ habit of writing melodrama renders him very effective in this
+sort of romantic military chronicle, which is pretty well received in
+France, where people are used to the style. It is compounded upon the
+plan of all his historical romances and romantic histories, with the
+sole difference that, in these, he frequently audaciously perverts
+historic truth; whilst the African business is so recent that he cannot
+venture to be unfaithful to the outline, and confines himself to filling
+up and extending with his own fantastic details. Having been on the
+spot, and one of the first to welcome the few survivors of the prisoners
+taken in the above bloody affair, when they were ransomed from the
+Arabs, he doubtless picked up a number of the tales that always
+circulate in such cases; and these he has very cleverly amalgamated and
+patched up into a consecutive narrative—perhaps the most amusing section
+of those two volumes of _Le Véloce_ which alone as yet have reached us.
+His account of the fate of the last company—the one that stopped with
+the baggage—is the best bit of all, although certainly very French, and
+strongly impregnated with that peculiar flavour of theatrical
+fanfaronade which is inseparable from the character of our vain and
+volatile neighbours, which they cannot see, and consequently are not
+likely to lose, and which stirs the gall of prejudiced and untravelled
+Englishmen, and brings a smile to the lip of those who, with greater
+justice and in a better spirit, will not allow peculiarities of tone and
+manner to blind them to the good qualities of a gallant and ingenious
+nation, whose soldiers, although of late years they have more than once
+been employed in wars and expeditions unworthy of their prowess, have
+never lost an opportunity of proving that, in valour at least, they are
+no way degenerate from their fathers who fought under the banners of
+Napoleon the Great. And although one cannot but be amused at the
+ambitious comparison with Thermopylæ, the affair of Sidi-Ibrahim was
+unquestionably most honourable to the handful of brave fellows who
+defended the Marabout of that name against fifty times their number. The
+term _Marabout_ is applied, in Africa, not only to a saint, but to the
+small, round-roofed, stone edifice which serves as his mausoleum after
+death, and, not unfrequently, as his habitation during life. In a
+building of this description, after driving out the Arabs that occupied
+it, and when the cessation of the musketry warned them that their
+comrades were slain or prisoners, the last company of Colonel
+Montagnac’s ill-fated detachment took refuge, under the orders of its
+captain, de Géreaux, and there withstood the fierce and reiterated
+attacks of a host of Arabs and Kabyles. Abd-el-Kader himself approached
+the little fortress, and was wounded in the cheek by a French bullet. He
+offered quarter on surrender: it was refused. Thrice he summoned the
+handful of beleaguered warriors, who spurned his proposals, and would
+not trust themselves to the word of an Arab. Then the combat recommenced
+and lasted till night, whose arrival found the French still in
+possession of their post. At daybreak, hostilities were resumed, and
+continued till ten o’clock in the forenoon, when Abd-el-Kader took his
+departure, and the Arabs, whose loss was very heavy, converted the siege
+into a blockade. Night returned, and Captain de Géreaux, who was on the
+watch, saw an Arab creeping stealthily towards the Marabout. He awoke Dr
+Rosagutti, the interpreter; they called to the Arab, who came to them;
+they gave him all the money they had about them, and a letter to take to
+the camp of Lalla Maghrnia. The Arab was faithful; he delivered the
+letter; but none knew the signature of Captain de Géreaux; a stratagem
+was suspected, and no relief was sent. Hope of succour, however, buoyed
+up the spirits of the besieged of Sidi-Ibrahim, and they waited another
+day, without bread or water, almost without ammunition, their gaze fixed
+in the direction of Lalla Maghrnia. But the next morning at six o’clock,
+despairing of relief, they resolved to sally forth and cut their way to
+Djema-r’Azaouat. There were four leagues to get over, and thousands of
+Arabs were echeloned along the route. With desperate courage, the
+fifty-five or sixty Frenchmen repulsed numerous attacks, forming square
+when hard pressed, receiving many wounds, marking their track with
+corpses, but still, by their steadiness and deadly fire, keeping the
+undisciplined Arabs at bay. Some five-and-twenty succeeded in arriving
+within half a league of Djema-r’Azaouat, but then their ammunition was
+expended; the Arabs pressed upon them, and a volley at twenty paces
+stretched half their number, including the brave de Géreaux, lifeless in
+the dust. The remainder dispersed, and sought concealment and safety
+amongst the copsewood and bushes. Three of them reached the lines of
+Djema-r’Azaouat, told the sad tale, and died, unwounded, of mere
+exhaustion. A sortie was made, and five or six men, who had escaped the
+Kabyle sabres, were brought in. Eight men were all that survived of the
+gallant eighth battalion of the Chasseurs of Orleans. The disaster,
+however, was signally revenged. The Arabs who had brought it about, by
+the false message sent to Colonel Montagnac—the tribe of the
+Beni-Snanen—were cooped up by General Cavaignac on a narrow projection
+of the coast, and driven into the sea or put to the sword, to the number
+of four or five thousand. “The furious soldiers gave no quarter,” adds
+M. Dumas, “and General Cavaignac perilled his popularity with the army
+by saving a remnant of this unfortunate tribe. The trumpeter, Roland,
+the only survivor of the massacre of the m’Louïa, (when the prisoners
+taken by Abd-el-Kader were put to death in cold blood,) was in this
+affair: he had a terrible revenge to take, and he took it, and declared
+himself satisfied, for he had slain with his own hand more than thirty
+Arabs.”
+
+Great as is the press of more important matter, and prolonged though
+this paper has been by the extracts to which the diverting Dumas has
+tempted us, we yet cannot close it without a glance at Mr Urquhart’s
+remarkable chapter, entitled “THE BATH.” On this subject his notions and
+prepossessions are completely Oriental. His residence in the East has
+given him a distaste for the modes of washing customary in Western
+Europe, and which he styles “dabbling in dirty water.” Nothing less than
+the running stream can come up to his standard of cleanliness. And as it
+is not always practicable to have fountains in dwelling-houses, he tells
+us how he manages without one. “I find the most convenient substitute a
+vase holding about two gallons of water, with a spout like that of a
+tea-urn, only three times the length, placed on a stand about four feet
+high, with a tub below: hot or cold water can be used; the water may be
+very hot, as the stream that flows is small. It runs for a quarter of an
+hour or twenty minutes.” This is his plan in the West, we understand;
+but when the member for Stafford gets amongst Mussulmans, oh, how he
+revels in the shampoo! The gusto of his descriptions positively makes us
+shudder. The bathman, we are told, “stands with his feet on the thighs
+and on the chest, and slips down the ribs; then up again three times;
+and, lastly, doubling your arms one after the other on the chest, pushes
+with both hands down, beginning at the elbow, and then putting an arm
+under the back and applying his chest to your crossed elbows, _rolls on
+you across till you crack_. You are now turned on your face, and, in
+addition to the operation above described, he works his elbow round the
+edges of your shoulder-blade, and with the heel plies hard the angle of
+the neck; he concludes by hauling the body half up by each arm
+successively, while he stands with one foot on the opposite thigh. You
+are then raised for a moment to a sitting posture, and a contortion
+given to the small of the back, and a jerk to the neck by the two hands
+holding the temples.” This has rather a dislocating, formidable, and
+certainly a most disgusting sound; but Mr Urquhart assures us the
+process is delightful, and particularly gentle compared with the mode of
+operation in a Moorish bath, where, practised bather though he is, he
+shrieked under the rough usage of his manipulator. The conclusion of
+this latter bath he describes as follows:—“Thrice taking each leg and
+lifting it up, he placed his head under the calf, and raising himself,
+scraped the leg as with a rough brush, _for his shaved head had the
+grain downwards. The operation concluded by his biting my heel._” We
+should like to see any human being, whether Turk, Pagan, Jew, or
+Christian, attempt such revolting liberties with our person. By the
+bones of Belshazzar! we would brain him with the bath-brush. The member
+for Stafford should be ashamed of himself. He positively makes us
+scunner. We have a firm and wholesome faith in the efficacy and
+cleanliness of a British spunging-bath and rough towel; we repel with
+abhorrence Mr Urquhart’s manipulatory innovations, and feel intense
+disgust at the Mahometan kneading, pummelling, trampling, sweating,
+soaping, and scraping, which he dwells upon with such nauseous
+minuteness, and whose results he describes as so wonderfully salubrious
+and delightful. We really hesitate at transferring to our page any more
+of his nasty details. We venture, however, to present him to our readers
+in the character of Marsyas, undergoing the flaying process which, it
+appears, forms an essential stage of the Turkish bathing operation. With
+a glove of camel’s hair, the bathman “commences from the nape of the
+neck in long sweeps down the back till he has started the skin; _he
+coaxes it into rolls_, keeping them in and up, till within his hand they
+gather volume and length; he then successively strikes and brushes them
+away, and they fall right and left as if spilt from a dish of macaroni.
+The dead matter which will accumulate in a week forms, when dry, _a ball
+of the size of the fist. I once collected it and had it dried—it is like
+a ball of chalk._” Well may the honourable gentleman declare the human
+body “a fountain of impurities,” when he can back the assertion by such
+a startling statement of the weekly amount of his own cuticular
+incrustations. No wonder he commiserates the condition of the unwashed
+portion of his countrymen, and urges the establishment of public baths
+on a scale more magnificent than practicable. Cleanliness is so nearly a
+virtue, that all deserve well of their country who efficaciously promote
+its spread amongst classes by whom it is too often neglected. But the
+carrying out of such plans must devolve upon philanthropists of a more
+practical stamp than this fantastical theorist and crotchety M.P. It
+were ridiculous to suppose that all the advantages would be realised
+which he predicts, from the adoption in this country of a universal
+system of bathing; but so manifold and enormous are they, that, if only
+a tithe of them were guaranteed, it would suffice to make us sigh for
+the days when in London there should be “no gin palaces, but a thousand
+baths!”
+
+
+
+
+                               GOLDSMITH.
+                                PART II.
+
+From the character of the man, we turn to the character of the
+author—from the life to the works of Goldsmith. What we said of the
+well-known events of his career would apply equally to his writings; it
+would be a tedious and superfluous office to pass in formal review
+performances so familiar, and which appear to be as justly appreciated
+as they are widely circulated. All that we propose doing, is to add a
+few miscellaneous observations, hints, and fragments of criticism, which
+may be interesting to those who like to examine also, as well as to
+admire. For these we could find no space in our previous Number: we
+throw them together here in the best order their miscellaneous nature
+permits.
+
+In the _Citizen of the World_, Goldsmith tells us of a man who earned
+his livelihood by making wonders—curiosities of nature or of art—and
+exhibiting them to the world. “His first essay in this way was to
+exhibit himself as a wax-work figure, behind a glass door at a
+puppet-show. Thus, keeping the spectators at a proper distance, and
+having his head adorned with a copper crown, he looked extremely
+natural, and very like the life itself.” This would be no bad
+illustration of what his critics have often pointed out as Goldsmith’s
+own proceeding, in the manufacture of his literary wonders and
+curiosities. When he wanted a fictitious character for his novel, or his
+play, he sate himself down behind the glass door, with some copper
+crown, or other slight disguise upon his head, and all the world
+confessed that it “looked extremely natural, and very like the life
+itself!”
+
+His Good-natured Man, in the comedy of that name; Young Marlow in _She
+Stoops to Conquer_, the Philosopher Vagabond, the Man in Black, and
+others that could be named, are all Goldsmith sitting behind the glass
+door. There is a strong personal resemblance in all his characters; they
+are portraits of himself, drawn with the features widened into broad
+humour, or elongated into saturnine wisdom. His Beau Tibbs seems to have
+been created by looking at, and magnifying, some of his own foibles; his
+Dr Primrose, by drawing forth those grave and kindly feelings, which,
+notwithstanding those foibles, lay, he knew, at the bottom of his heart.
+
+The incidents of his life, too, supplied very often the plot or story;
+and memory took the place of invention. Yet, in this respect,
+considering the varied and adventurous nature of his life, we are rather
+surprised that he did not draw more copiously from himself, and from his
+past history. We should have thought that the curious scenes he must
+have witnessed in that wild journey of his—footing it through Europe,
+now as medical student, now as itinerant musician, at one time playing
+the tutor (he the tutor!) to some junior scapegrace; at another,
+furbishing up all the Latin and logic he was master of, to dispute at
+Padua for bed and supper—would have supplied him with many an incident
+for a novel. We are persuaded, that if he had lived in these days, when
+the value of an incident is better known, and it is more the fashion
+than it was formerly to put to literary profit the experience and events
+of private life, he would have made much greater use than he has done of
+such materials.
+
+But it is not only thus that we trace the life of Goldsmith in his
+writings. We trace the influence of his career in the formation of his
+intellectual character. Travel had stood with him in the place of
+philosophy. It had enlarged his sphere of thought, had broken up
+national prejudices, and given him an insight into many a matter which
+otherwise would never have attracted his attention. But travel is far
+more effective in dispersing error or prejudice, than in lending
+assistance to the formation of settled opinions. It confirmed him in a
+desultory mode of thinking, uncertain and undecided. His horizon was
+extended, but his vision was not distinct. Yet as Goldsmith was never
+devoted to the discipline of philosophy, and would never, perhaps, have
+pursued any systematic study, he was, upon the whole, a great gainer by
+his varied vagrant life, and the cosmopolitan temper it had generated. A
+philosopher he never would have been: it was something to feel as a
+citizen of the world.
+
+Goldsmith was of a quick apprehensive intellect, open to receive
+impressions, with ready faculty to give them forth again; but to
+continuous thought, to close and prolonged examination of any subject,
+he was by no means addicted. With him the philosophers were more talked
+of than read. Abstract thinking and severe reasoning were not his
+vocation. It thus happens that the solitary observation, simply
+asserted, is often excellent, and carries with it our cordial assent. He
+only discovers his weakness when he undertakes to convince us by his
+reasoning. On those occasions when he puts forth a thesis, and solemnly
+begins to demonstrate it, his thesis may be good, but it will stand none
+the firmer for his argument.
+
+Let us give an instance of this from the _Vicar of Wakefield_. Nothing
+could be more just, or more happily expressed, than the opening
+observation we are about to quote. The reasoning which follows, and is
+intended to support it, is as weak and fantastical as, on so beaten a
+subject, it well could be.
+
+
+  “And it were highly to be wished,” says the Vicar, “that legislative
+  power would thus direct the law rather to reformation than severity;
+  that it would seem convinced that the work of eradicating crimes is
+  not by making punishment familiar, but formidable. Then instead of our
+  present prisons, which find or make men guilty, which enclose wretches
+  for the commission of one crime, and return them, if returned alive,
+  fitted for the perpetration of thousands—we should see, as in other
+  parts of Europe, places of penitence and solitude, where the accused
+  might be attended by such as could give them repentance, if guilty, or
+  new motives to virtue, if innocent. And this, but not the increasing
+  punishment, is the way to mend a state.”
+
+
+Now, if the good Vicar had stopped here, he would have expressed a truth
+much needed at the time, in a simplicity and elegance of language which
+could not be improved. But the Vicar enters into abstract reasoning to
+prove his thesis, grows argumentative, and, at the same time, grows
+weak.
+
+
+  “Nor can I,” he continues, “avoid even questioning the validity of
+  that right which social combinations have assumed of capitally
+  punishing offences of a slight nature. In cases of murder their right
+  is obvious, as it is the duty of us all, from the law of self-defence,
+  to cut off that man who has shown a disregard for the life of another.
+  Against such all nature rises in arms; but it is not so against him
+  who steals my property. Natural law gives me no right to take away his
+  life, as by that the horse he steals is as much his property as mine.
+  If, then, I have any right, it must be from a compact made between us,
+  that he who deprives the other of his horse shall die. _But this is a
+  false compact; because no man has a right to barter his life any more
+  than to take it away, as it is not his own. And, besides, the compact
+  is inadequate, and could be set aside even in a court of modern
+  equity, as there is a great penalty for a trifling inconvenience,
+  since it is far better that two men should live than that one man
+  should ride._ But a compact that is false between two men is equally
+  so between a hundred and a hundred thousand; for as ten millions of
+  circles can never make a square, so the united voice of myriads cannot
+  lend the smallest foundation to falsehood.”
+
+
+Logic such as this, even if set forth in Latin, would hardly have earned
+him his supper and his bed in the University of Padua.
+
+We are told that at Dublin University Goldsmith manifested great
+repugnance to the study of mathematics. The conduct towards him of the
+mathematical tutor did not tend to diminish this aversion. In one of his
+miscellaneous essays, he thus revenges himself on the science and on its
+professors:—
+
+
+  “A youth incapable of retaining one rule of grammar, or of acquiring
+  the least knowledge of the classics, may nevertheless make great
+  progress in mathematics; _nay, he may have a strong genius for the
+  mathematics without being able to comprehend a demonstration of
+  Euclid_; because his mind conceives in a peculiar manner, and is so
+  intent upon contemplating the object in one particular point of
+  view, that it cannot perceive it in any other. We have known an
+  instance of a boy who, while his master complained that he had not
+  capacity to comprehend the properties of a right-angled triangle,
+  had actually, in private, by the power of his genius, _formed a
+  mathematical system of his own_; discovered a series of curious
+  theorems, and even applied his deductions to practical machines of
+  surprising construction.”—_Essay on Taste._
+
+
+But although Goldsmith could commit the most surprising blunders when he
+invades the region of abstract or severe reasoning, yet the credit must
+be given to him of _thinking for himself_. With undisciplined powers,
+and but slenderly equipped for the task, we still see him engaging in
+the solution of social and political problems. He does not merely repeat
+from books the ideas of others; nor is he a thoughtless spectator of the
+world. One subject especially our homeless wanderer, who had looked up
+at society from the last round of the ladder, is frequently observed to
+be canvassing. His opinions on it are far from settled; his conclusions
+are often diametrically opposed; his reasonings never very clear; but he
+is, at all events, seen from time to time pondering it with great
+interest. It is the subject of luxury—the gratifications and pleasures
+of the wealthy in a state of civilisation. The rule admits of
+exceptions; but, in general, he condemns luxury in his poetry, and
+defends it in his prose. In neither case is he very successful in his
+reasonings. When he assails, he appears to be under the influence of a
+mere sentiment; when he defends it, he seems to be dealing with a
+half-learned philosophy, and such as is generally understood to be
+rather a native of France than of England.
+
+
+  “Examine,” says the _Citizen of the World_, “the history of any
+  country remarkable for opulence and wisdom, you will find that they
+  would never have been wise had they not been first luxurious: you will
+  find poets, philosophers, and even patriots, marching in luxury’s
+  train. The reason is obvious. _We then only are curious in knowledge,
+  when we find it connected with sensual happiness._ The senses ever
+  point out the way, and reflection comments upon the discovery. Inform
+  a native of the desert of Kobi of the exact measure of the parallax of
+  the moon, he finds no satisfaction at all in the information; he
+  wonders how any could take such pains, and lay out such treasures, in
+  order to solve so useless a difficulty; but connect it with his
+  happiness by showing that it improves navigation—that by such an
+  investigation he may have a warmer coat, a better gun, or a finer
+  knife, and he is instantly in raptures at so great an improvement. In
+  short, we only desire to know when we desire to possess; and, whatever
+  we may talk against it, luxury adds the spur to curiosity, and gives
+  us a desire of becoming more wise.”—Letter XI.
+
+
+Not true, Dr Goldsmith!—only a mere fragment of the truth; and your
+astronomical illustration singularly unfortunate. For the science of
+astronomy has been all along a labour of love—from the time when
+Chaldæan shepherds, quite heedless of navigation, watched the stars, and
+marked out the planet (the _wanderer_) amongst the fixed and stationary
+lights, to these our own days, when the profound _mathematician_,
+calculating, in the midst of revolutionary Paris, his disturbances on
+the remote boundaries of our planetary system, writes to the skilful
+_observer_, and bids him direct his great tube to a certain spot in the
+heavens, and he will find a new _wanderer_ there, as yet unseen and
+unsuspected. The observer points his telescope as he is told, and
+discovers it that very night, in that very spot.
+
+Still less will his reasoning hold together, or prove
+“refutation-tight,” when, as in the _Deserted Village_, he finds that
+the wealth of our merchants has occasioned the desertion of the country,
+and the depopulation of the land. “In regretting,” he says, in the
+preface to that poem, “the depopulation of the land, I inveigh against
+the increase of our luxuries.” Happily no one, in reading that poem,
+thinks of the political economy of the _Deserted Village_. Happily,
+also, there is often a greater truth in the poet’s general enunciations,
+than he himself is able to explain, or accurately to develop. The reader
+may adopt his language, and apply it to a more correct conception than
+was present to the author’s mind. The very paragraph which might be
+quoted for its manifest blunder in the rudiments of political science,
+opens with these admirable lines, which every one, in a sense of his
+own, will readily adopt:—
+
+            “Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey
+            The rich man’s joys increase, the poor’s decay,
+            ’Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand
+            Between a splendid and a happy land.”
+
+What follows will not easily bear a wise interpretation. Goldsmith
+speaks of commerce as if ships came in laden with nothing but gold—with
+“loads of freighted ore”—and finds that this imported wealth converts
+the ploughed fields into parks and pleasure-grounds. The writer of a
+history of England might have called to mind the Forest Laws, and the
+wide tracts of country kept waste, and, in some cases, _laid waste_ by
+our rude ancestors, for their rude sports.
+
+There is amongst the essays of Goldsmith a tale or allegory, which our
+readers may remember to have read in their youth, in some Speaker, or
+collection of Elegant Extracts. We are quite sure they have no
+acquaintance with it of a later date. This tale we will venture to
+revive. It belongs to so old-fashioned a species of literature, that it
+must needs be a novelty. We would quote it as an instance illustrative
+of the remarks we have made on the intellectual character of Goldsmith.
+It is wrong—argumentatively and logically wrong—yet no man would say
+that he was a mere repeater of other men’s words, who wrote _Asem, an
+Eastern Tale; or a Vindication of the Wisdom of Providence in the moral
+government of the World_. No one can read it without being prompted to
+think, which is good proof that the author thought when he wrote
+it—though he did not think very accurately.
+
+In the time of Goldsmith, the fashion was not extinct of seeing moral
+visions, and dreaming sagacious dreams. Wisdom delighted to speak in
+allegory. There were still to be found in those days, here and there,
+retired hermits, with long beards, hiding in solitary caves, and living
+on the simplest herbs—cold water and a salad; and there were still
+lingering on the earth genii, or other stupendous and supernatural
+beings, who occasionally visited these favoured mortals, teaching them
+surpassing wisdom, and illustrating their lessons in the most marvellous
+manner. Asem was such a hermit. Yet, all hermit and Mussulman as he was,
+he bears a strong resemblance to the Goldsmith family. “From the
+tenderness of his disposition, he exhausted all his fortune in relieving
+the wants of the distressed.” Having reduced himself to want, he is
+shocked to find that one who comes to beg, is not so welcome as when he
+came to give. Accordingly, he turns with wrath from an ungrateful world.
+
+
+  “He began to view mankind in a very different light from that in which
+  he had before beheld them; he perceived a thousand vices he had never
+  before suspected to exist; wherever he turned, ingratitude,
+  dissimulation, and treachery contributed to increase his detestation
+  of them. Resolved, therefore, to continue no longer in a world which
+  he hated, and which repaid his detestation with contempt, he retired
+  to a region of sterility, in order to brood over his resentment in
+  solitude, and converse with the only honest heart he knew—namely, his
+  own.”
+
+
+But the contemplation of this only honest heart was not sufficient
+consolation for that prospect of a wicked world which perpetually
+haunted him, and which filled him with doubts on the wisdom or the
+beneficence of Allah. He finally resolved on suicide. He was about to
+plunge into the lake, when—
+
+
+  “He perceived a most majestic being walking on the surface of the
+  water, and approaching the bank on which he stood!
+
+  “‘Son of Adam!’ cried the Genius, ‘stop thy rash purpose: the Father
+  of the Faithful has seen thy justice, thy integrity, thy miseries, and
+  hath sent me to afford and administer relief. Give me thine hand, and
+  follow without trembling wherever I shall lead. In me behold the
+  Genius of Conviction, kept by the Great Prophet, to turn from their
+  errors those who go astray, not from curiosity, but a rectitude of
+  intention. Follow me, and be wise!’”
+
+
+Such an invitation, and from so imposing a personage, was not to be
+declined. The Genius of Conviction conducts Asem along the surface, and
+to the centre of the lake: here the waters open, and close on them; they
+descend into another world, where human foot had never trod before.
+
+
+  “‘The rational inhabitants of this world,’ the Genius tells him, ‘are
+  formed agreeably to your own ideas; they are absolutely without vice.
+  If you find this world more agreeable than that you so lately left,
+  you have free permission to spend the remainder of your days in it.’
+
+  “‘A world without vice! Rational beings without immorality!’ cried
+  Asem in a rapture. ‘I thank thee, Allah!—thou hast at length heard my
+  petitions: this—this, indeed, will produce happiness, ecstasy, and
+  ease. Oh for an immortality to spend it among men who are incapable of
+  ingratitude, injustice, fraud, violence, and a thousand other crimes
+  that render society miserable!’
+
+  “‘Cease thine exclamations!’ replied the Genius. ‘Look around thee.’
+
+  “They soon gained the utmost verge of the forest, and entered the
+  country inhabited by men without vice; and Asem anticipated in idea
+  the rational delight he hoped to experience in such an innocent
+  society. But they had scarcely left the confines of the wood, when
+  they beheld one of the inhabitants flying with hasty steps, and terror
+  in his countenance, from an army of squirrels that closely pursued
+  him. ‘Heavens!’ cried Asem, ‘why does he fly? What can he fear from
+  animals so contemptible?’ He had scarcely spoken, when he perceived
+  two dogs pursuing another of the human species, who, with equal terror
+  and haste, attempted to avoid them. ‘This,’ cried Asem to his guide,
+  ‘is truly surprising; nor can I conceive the reason for so strange an
+  action.’—‘Every species of animals,’ replied the Genius, ‘has of late
+  grown very powerful in this country; for the inhabitants, at first,
+  thinking it unjust to use either fraud or force in destroying them,
+  they have insensibly increased, and now frequently ravage their
+  harmless frontiers.’ ‘But they should have been destroyed!’ cried
+  Asem: ‘you see the consequence of such neglect.’—‘Where is then that
+  tenderness you so lately expressed for subordinate animals?’ replied
+  the Genius, smiling; ‘you seem to have forgot that branch of justice.’
+  ‘I must acknowledge my mistake,’ returned Asem. ‘I am now convinced
+  that we must be guilty of tyranny and injustice to the brute creation,
+  if we would enjoy the world ourselves. But let us no longer observe
+  the duty of man to these irrational creatures, but survey their
+  connexions with one another.’
+
+  “As they walked farther up the country, the more he was surprised to
+  see no vestiges of handsome houses, no cities, nor any mark of elegant
+  design. His conductor, perceiving his surprise, observed, that the
+  inhabitants of this new world were perfectly content with their
+  ancient simplicity; each had a house, which, though homely, was
+  sufficient to lodge his little family; they were too good to build
+  houses, which would only increase their own pride and the envy of the
+  spectator; what they built was for convenience, and not for show. ‘At
+  least, then,’ said Asem, ‘they have neither architects, painters, nor
+  statuaries in their society; but these are idle arts, and may be
+  spared. However, before I spend much more time here, you should have
+  my thanks for introducing me into the society of some of their wisest
+  men: there is scarcely any pleasure to me equal to a refined
+  conversation; there is nothing of which I am so much enamoured as
+  wisdom.’—‘Wisdom!’ replied his instructor; ‘how ridiculous! We have no
+  wisdom here, for we have no occasion for it: true wisdom is only a
+  knowledge of our own duty, and the duty of others to us; but of what
+  use is such wisdom here? Each intuitively performs what is right in
+  itself, and expects the same from others. If by wisdom you should mean
+  vain curiosity and empty speculation, as such pleasures have their
+  origin in vanity, luxury, or avarice, we are too good to pursue them.’
+  ‘All this may be right,’ said Asem, ‘but I think I observe a solitary
+  disposition prevail among the people; each family keeps separately
+  within their own precincts, without society, or without
+  intercourse.’—‘That, indeed, is true,’ replied the other; ‘here is no
+  established society, nor should there be any: all societies are made
+  either through fear or friendship; the people we are among are too
+  good to fear each other; and there are no motives to private
+  friendship, where all are equally meritorious.’ ‘Well, then,’ said the
+  sceptic, ‘if I am to spend my time here—if I am to have neither the
+  polite arts, nor wisdom, nor friendship in such a world, I should be
+  glad, at least, of an easy companion, who may tell me his thoughts,
+  and to whom I may communicate mine.’—‘And to what purpose should
+  either do this?’ says the Genius. ‘Flattery or curiosity are vicious
+  motives, and never allowed of here; and wisdom is out of the
+  question.’
+
+  “‘Still, however,’ said Asem, ‘the inhabitants must be happy; each is
+  contented with his own possessions, nor avariciously endeavours to
+  heap up more than is necessary for his own subsistence; each has,
+  therefore, leisure for pitying those that stand in need of his
+  compassion.’ He had scarcely spoken when his ears were assaulted by
+  the lamentations of a wretch who sat by the way-side, and, in the most
+  deplorable distress, seemed gently to murmur at his own misery. Asem
+  immediately ran to his relief, and found him in the last stage of a
+  consumption. ‘Strange,’ cried the son of Adam, ‘that men who are free
+  from vice should thus suffer so much misery without relief!’—‘Be not
+  surprised,’ said the wretch who was dying; ‘would it not be the utmost
+  injustice for beings who have only just sufficient to support
+  themselves, and are content with a bare subsistence, to take it from
+  their own mouths to put it into mine? They never are possessed of a
+  single meal more than is necessary; and what is barely necessary
+  cannot be dispensed with.’ ‘They should have been supplied with more
+  than is necessary,’ cried Asem. ‘And yet I contradict my own opinion
+  but a moment before: all is doubt, perplexity, and confusion.’”
+
+
+After some other attempts to find happiness in this world without vice,
+Asem exclaims—“Take me, O my Genius! back to that very world I have
+despised!” And hereupon the triumphant Genius, “assuming an air of
+terrible complacency, called all his thunders around him, and vanished
+in a whirlwind.” Asem found himself at the very place, and (with such
+rapidity had these scenes passed in review) almost at the very instant
+of time, in which the Genius had at first accosted him. “His right foot
+was still advanced to take the fatal plunge, nor had it been yet
+withdrawn.”
+
+Who would dare to contend with the _Genius of Conviction_?—who venture
+to prescribe laws of reasoning to so majestic a being,—one who walks
+upon the waters, calls his thunders about him, and has a whole
+subterranean world wherewith to demonstrate his theory of morals?
+Nevertheless, if we were quite sure that the Genius were out of hearing,
+we should be disposed to question whether he had ever framed an accurate
+definition of virtue. If, in a virtuous world, men must be chased by
+squirrels, and devoured by dogs, live in penury, and let their
+neighbours starve, either we, or the Genius of Conviction, have been in
+error all this time as to what virtue really _is_.
+
+As a critic, it is confessed on all hands that Goldsmith lamentably
+failed. As a politician, he had this honourable peculiarity, that his
+speculations had very little reference to the party feuds of the day. He
+had contracted, probably from his Continental travels, a bias in favour
+of monarchical power. He seems to have embraced the opinion which Burke
+combated in his _Thoughts on the Present Discontents_; namely, that the
+houses of parliament, or the aristocracy through their influence in
+these houses, were dangerously encroaching on the royal prerogative. At
+least this is the best explanation we can give of the expressions that
+he, from time to time, throws out upon this subject.
+
+The only grudge we owe his politics is, that they occasioned the
+introduction of the weakest and most confused passage in his noble poem
+of _The Traveller_. When discoursing upon foreign countries—on Holland,
+France, or Italy—he naturally and wisely restricts himself to certain
+general characteristics of the people and of their governments—general
+views which admit of vigorous and poetic enunciation, and are not likely
+to raise cavil or controversy. But when he lands upon his native
+country, these home politics beset him, and he gets entangled in a train
+of thought but half made out, of too controversial a character, and
+which does not easily lend itself to the harmony of verse, and the
+simple force of poetic expression.
+
+            “Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms,
+            Except when fast approaching danger warms:
+            But when contending chiefs blockade the throne,
+            Contracting regal power to stretch their own;
+            When I behold a factious band agree
+            To call it freedom, when themselves are free;
+            Each wanton judge new penal statutes draw,
+            Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law;
+            The wealth of climes where savage nations roam,
+            Pillaged from slaves to purchase slaves at home;
+            Fear, pity, justice, indignation start,
+            Tear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart;
+            _Till half a patriot, half a coward grown,
+            I fly from petty tyrants to the throne_.”
+
+Yet the whole passage must be forgiven for the sake of the two last
+lines. Of these the second is repeatedly quoted; but there is much
+significance and extreme felicity of expression in the preceding line—
+
+                “——half a patriot, half a coward grown.”
+
+It is a pity they should be so often separated.
+
+Having mentioned _The Traveller_, let us turn at once to this and to its
+exquisite companion—the two poems which give to Goldsmith his secure and
+eminent position in the literature of England. Our few detached
+criticisms on these old favourites shall not, at all events, be
+wearisome by their length. His comedies we design to leave untouched;
+they cannot be criticised without some review, however rapid, of the
+literature of the stage, and for this we have at present neither space
+nor inclination. A glance at _The Citizen of the World_ and _The Vicar
+of Wakefield_ will bring our subject to its conclusion.
+
+Every one remembers the anecdote connected with the first line of _The
+Traveller_—
+
+                “Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow.”
+
+Mr Irving shall relate it for us.
+
+
+  “The appearance of _The Traveller_ at once altered Goldsmith’s
+  intellectual standing in the estimation of society; but its effect
+  upon the club, if we may judge from the account given by Hawkins, was
+  almost ludicrous. They were lost in astonishment that a ‘newspaper
+  essayist,’ and a ‘bookseller’s drudge,’ should have written such a
+  poem. On the evening of its announcement, Goldsmith had gone away
+  early, after ‘rattling away as usual;’ and they knew not how to
+  reconcile his heedless garrulity with the serene beauty, the easy
+  grace, the sound good sense, and the occasional elevation of his
+  poetry. They could scarcely believe that such magic numbers had flowed
+  from a man to whom in general, says Johnson, ‘it was with difficulty
+  they could give a hearing.’ ‘Well,’ exclaimed Chamier, ‘I do believe
+  he wrote this poem himself; and, let me tell you, that is believing a
+  great deal.’
+
+  “At the next meeting of the club, Chamier sounded the author a little
+  about his poem. ‘Mr Goldsmith,’ said he, ‘what do you mean by the last
+  word in the first line of your _Traveller_, “remote, unfriended,
+  melancholy, _slow_?” Do you mean tardiness of locomotion?’—‘Yes,’
+  replied Goldsmith inconsiderately, being probably flurried at the
+  moment. ‘No, sir,’ interposed his protecting friend Johnson, ‘you did
+  not mean tardiness of locomotion; you meant that sluggishness of mind
+  which comes upon a man in solitude.’—‘Ah!’ exclaimed Goldsmith,
+  ‘_that_ was what I meant.’ Chamier immediately believed that Johnson
+  himself had written the line, and a rumour became prevalent that he
+  was the author of many of the finest passages.”
+
+
+With due deference to the great critic, and to the author himself, he
+_did_ mean tardiness of movement; but the epithet, joined as it is with
+others, tells us also that this slowness of motion was the result of
+heaviness of heart, and indicative of a sad and pensive spirit. It means
+all that Dr Johnson said; but it means also, and first of all, the slow
+pace of the solitary poet. Goldsmith was more probably “flurried at the
+moment,” when he so readily adopted the interpretation of Dr Johnson,
+than when he gave his first natural answer. He found the passage
+explained for him so authoritatively, and so much to the satisfaction of
+those present, that he could not hesitate in accepting the explanation.
+But had he taken time and _courage_ to reflect a moment, he would have
+seen that there was no discrepancy between his own answer and what Dr
+Johnson had added. Take away the image of the slow moving poet, and you
+take away all _picture_ from the passage. The pensive sadness is
+depicted in what Captain Chamier calls, in seeming imitation of the
+great man he is conversing with, “tardiness of locomotion.”
+
+                  “Remote—unfriended—melancholy—slow.”
+
+Every word comes from the heart. Many a time, without a doubt, had our
+wandering poet, at a distance from his country, walked by the side of
+some foreign stream—alone—unfriended—with nothing for his portion upon
+earth but genius and poverty.
+
+“We cannot, for our part, see the point of Captain Chamier’s question.
+He might, with just as much reason, have put the same query to Petrarch,
+who opens one of his sonnets in a very similar manner.
+
+                 “Solo e pensoso, i più deserti campi
+                 Vo misurando, a passi tardi e lenti.”
+
+He would have found here also “tardiness of locomotion,” and the languor
+of the pensive man, united in the same description.
+
+            “Where’er I roam, whatever realms to see,
+            My heart untravell’d fondly turns to thee;
+            Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain,
+            And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.”
+
+The same image is made use of in the _Citizen of the World_. The reader
+may like to contrast the prose with the poetic version. “The farther I
+travel,” says Lien Chi Altangi to his correspondent, “I feel the pain of
+separation with stronger force; those ties that bind me to my native
+country and you, are still unbroken. _By every remove I only drag a
+greater length of chain._” We prefer the prose. Indeed the metaphor is
+not so much to our taste as that we should have thought it worth using a
+second time, and in the greater work. It suited Lien Chi Altangi very
+well, and with him it might have remained. It is too cumbrous—too
+material. What are we to do with this “lengthening chain” which he
+“drags” along the earth? and where, in imagination, are we to fasten it?
+To his ankle? It would make a felon of him. To his waist? Ridiculous!
+But, you will say, we are not to see the chain at all—only to hear it
+clank a little in the verse—only to have some dim idea of lengthening
+ligature. Very good; and thereupon we honestly respond—if, whilst
+reading the line you feel no irresistible tendency to look down upon the
+ground for this chain—if you do not see it at all, then to you the
+metaphor is quite unobjectionable.
+
+              “And find no spot of all the world my own!”
+
+The natural feeling of the homeless, unprovided wanderer, looking over a
+great stretch of country. How finely is it contrasted with the sentiment
+which follows! No spot his own! It is all his! He has taken sympathetic
+possession of the whole.
+
+        “Ye glittering towns, with wealth and splendour crowned;
+        Ye fields, where summer spreads profusion round;
+        Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale;
+        Ye bending swains that dress the flowery vale—
+        For me your tributary stores combine;
+        _Creation’s heir, the world, the world is mine!_”
+
+Having thus wrought himself into proper mood for his philosophic
+purpose, the poet commences his survey of the several regions of the
+earth, and nations of mankind. The train of thought is, at starting,
+somewhat perplexed, from the author being occupied with two separate
+reflections, which, until they are closely examined, appear
+contradictory. We have them in close juxtaposition in the following
+lines:—
+
+            “Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall,
+            To see the hoard of human bliss so small;
+            And oft I wish amidst the scene to find
+            _Some spot to real happiness consigned_,
+            Where my worn soul, each wandering hope at rest,
+            May gather bliss to see my fellows blest.
+            But where to find that happiest below—
+            Who can direct, when _all pretend to know_?
+            The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone
+            Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own.”
+            &c., &c.
+
+So far, then, from the hoard of happiness being small, every country
+proclaims itself to be specially and pre-eminently blest. The
+philosophic poet has no reason for his sorrow: he wanted one happy spot,
+and he has found every spot is happy—supremely happy.
+
+But the apparent incongruity vanishes on a closer examination. Each
+nation boasts its pre-eminence over other nations; but man nowhere
+boasts much of being man. Every people is proud and self-congratulatory
+whilst it compares itself with other people; but its pride and
+gratulation are only sustained by this comparison. Every congregation of
+men who merely contemplate themselves as with the earth beneath them,
+and the sky above, are heard to fill the air with lamentations and
+discontent. So that the philosopher, notwithstanding these several
+vaunts of every nation, civilised and savage, may still search, if he
+thinks fit, for the spot “to happiness consigned.”
+
+Our poet seems to find an equal proportion of good and evil in every
+clime, people, and government. Sometimes he is guilty of a little
+overcharge in this or that particular, in order to keep the balance
+even. Only thus can we account for the very severe language with which
+he takes leave of Holland. He had found the people of that country so
+very comfortable that it was absolutely necessary to abuse them as—
+
+                “A land of tyrants and a den of slaves,”
+
+or the due proportion of evil would not have been preserved.
+
+It is observable, and characteristic of the age in which Goldsmith
+wrote, that, beautiful as are his descriptions of the several countries
+of Europe, there is very little in them which betrays that he himself
+had ever visited those countries. There are few of those picturesque
+circumstances which the eye of an observer detects, and which the
+memory, or the note-book, preserves. Unfortunately, it was the habit of
+the day to trust more to the knowledge acquired from books than to the
+eyesight: _learning_ had not lost that undue influence which it
+naturally acquired at the restoration of letters; poets chose rather to
+describe what had been described before, and adhere to traditional
+feelings and classical models, than to consult their own experience. The
+descriptions of scenery in _The Traveller_ are so general, and consist
+of broad outlines so well known to all educated men, that they might
+have been written in Green Arbour Court, by one who had lived there all
+his life. Switzerland itself does not provoke him to quit the beaten
+track of broad generalities. He even describes what he did _not_ see,
+because it harmonises with the ideas obtained from books. Thus,—
+
+             —“The bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread,
+             And force a churlish soil for scanty bread;
+             No produce _here_ the barren hills afford,
+             But man and steel, the soldier and his sword.”
+
+Switzerland has been long celebrated for the mercenary troops she
+supplied to foreign courts; but there is no country where less is seen
+of the soldier and his sword; nor can “scanty bread” be said to be the
+lot of those who cultivate its soil.
+
+While our eye is on this part of the poem, can we possibly resist
+quoting the following half-a-dozen lines? They are perfect:—
+
+           —“Those ills that round his mansion rise
+           Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies.
+           Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms,
+           And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms;
+           And as a child, when scaring sounds molest,
+           Clings close and closer to the mother’s breast—
+           So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind’s roar,
+           But bind him to his native mountains more.”
+
+Perhaps the happiest of all these national portraits is that of France.
+He sympathised with the French; his pen is often employed in defending
+them from absurd attacks, and combating the prejudices of the John Bull
+of his day. The concluding lines are peculiarly happy: there is a
+refinement of analysis expressed in the most graceful diction.
+
+          —“Honour
+          Here passes current; paid from hand to hand,
+          It shifts in splendid traffic through the land;
+          From courts to camps, to cottages it strays,
+          And all are taught an avarice of praise;
+          They please, are pleased; _they give to get esteem_,
+          Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.”
+
+His praise of England we must not appear so deficient in patriotism as
+to quarrel with. But just as one is curious to know where an artist
+stood who has taken some captivating sketch of an old familiar spot,
+which never appeared to us so very charming before—so one might feel a
+little curious to discover where it was, in town or country, that
+Goldsmith took his stand when he saw—
+
+               “The lords of human race pass by;
+               Intent on high design—a thoughtful band.”
+
+Was it on London Bridge or at Temple Bar that he read the marks of “high
+design” in the “thoughtful band” that we were rushing past him like a
+mill-stream? Or was he far off in the country, and did the squire and
+his tenantry sit for the picture?
+
+We already find in _The Traveller_ that strange hallucination which
+seems to have haunted him, and which he more fully expressed in the
+subsequent poem of _The Deserted Village_—that England was being
+depopulated! What could have conducted him to a conclusion so utterly at
+variance with the fact, it is useless to inquire. It was his crotchet.
+He had probably seen decay in some places, and took no calculation of
+the more than proportionate increase of others. For Goldsmith did not
+limit himself to the mistaken notion, which many had expressed, that the
+towns were growing large at the expense of the country, but
+entertained—what to us must seem the strangest of paradoxes—entertained
+the conviction that the population of the whole country was wasting
+away.
+
+Happily, as we have already remarked, no one thinks of the theory of
+depopulation, or over-population, or any other theory of political
+economy, whilst reading _The Deserted Village_. We have all learned to
+love “Sweet Auburn” long before any idea connected with so crabbed and
+distressful a subject entered our minds. Indeed the village, with all
+its accessories, is brought with such distinctness before us, that even
+the decay of Auburn itself, is not the most prominent impression which
+the poem produces. The deserted Auburn is made to live again so vividly
+in the imagination, that the desolation in which it lies only occurs
+occasionally to the mind, throwing a feeling of sadness and melancholy
+over the picture. For ourselves, we can well remember that when we first
+became acquainted with the village of Auburn, we always thought of
+it—notwithstanding the use of the past tense—as somewhere still
+existing. It existed, at all events, very palpably in the imagination.
+
+The scene is English: it is, in the main, a description of an English
+village; but because the poet has also drawn materials from the
+recollections of his early home, some of his critics have been resolved
+to place Auburn in Ireland, and to identify what is clearly an ideal
+picture with the definite locality of Lissoy. On this ground they have
+even proceeded to convict him of an error for introducing the
+nightingale in one of his descriptions, there being no such bird in
+Ireland.
+
+This line, in which the nightingale is introduced, we should venture to
+quarrel with on quite another ground. Here is the passage. No one will
+object to read it again, though he has read it fifty or twice fifty
+times.
+
+         “Sweet was the sound when oft, at evening’s close,
+         Up yonder hill the village murmur rose;
+         There as I passed with careless steps and slow,
+         The mingling notes came soften’d from below:
+         The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,
+         The sober herd that lowed to meet their young;
+         The noisy geese that gabbled o’er the pool,
+         The playful children just let loose from school;
+         The watch-dog’s voice, that bayed the whispering wind;
+         And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind;
+         _These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
+         And fill’d each pause the nightingale had made_.”
+
+Have not our readers already felt how much better the description would
+have been if the last couplet had been omitted? This nightingale takes
+us by surprise. We thought we were listening to the sounds of the
+distant village, and find that we have been attending to the song of the
+nightingale, and that these had only filled up the pauses of her song.
+What had been the chief and prominent subject is suddenly reduced to
+this subordinate part. But, what is more to the purpose, the description
+becomes unfaithful, and ceases to reflect a real experience, when this
+nightingale is introduced. If that shy bird were heard singing while the
+milkmaid and the schoolboy were still audible, there would be no
+pleasing, but a very displeasing effect produced by the mingling of
+sounds of so very different a nature. They would by no means harmonise.
+We should listen with pleasure to the milkmaid and to the distant
+schoolboy, (he must be very distant,) and we should listen with pleasure
+to the nightingale, but with very little pleasure to all these at once.
+
+Goldsmith was a genuine lover of nature; but nevertheless he had not
+quite escaped that taste of the day which often led to the sacrifice of
+the truthfulness of a picture to what was deemed the perfection of the
+verse. He too can sometimes desert the _sense_ for the _sound_. And this
+word _sound_ reminds us of rather an amusing instance where he
+introduces some geographical names for no earthly reason except the
+array of sonorous syllables they present. “Farewell,” he exclaims to
+poetry,—
+
+            “Farewell, and oh! where’er thy voice be tried,
+            _On Torno’s cliffs, or Pambamarca’s side_.”
+
+Had we been in Captain Chamier’s place at the club, and wished to puzzle
+our friend Goldsmith, we should have asked him why he sent the muse to
+Pambamarca? and where, indeed, Pambamarca lay? We suspect that Goldsmith
+must have answered, that he knew nothing about it, except that it was a
+great way off, and sounded very majestically.
+
+There is one instance where the poet has introduced a reminiscence from
+Ireland, which we do not recollect to have seen noticed. In the
+inimitable description of the village schoolmaster, he says,—
+
+           “Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
+           And e’en the story ran—_that he could gauge_.”
+
+Now the rustics of an English village were not at all likely to select
+this accomplishment of gauging as one to bestow upon their prodigy of
+learning. We were tempted to explain this choice in the poet by the
+necessity of rhyme, which too often has manifestly determined him in the
+selection of his epithets, till it occurred to us that his mind had been
+travelling back to the _Irish_ village, where the illicit still may have
+brought even to the ragged urchins of the place some rumours of the
+science of the exciseman.
+
+In the whole range of English heroic verse, there is nothing more
+beautiful or more complete than the description of the village pastor,—
+
+              ——“The man to all the country dear,
+              And passing rich with forty pounds a-year.”
+
+Indeed, of the entire poem, it may be deliberately said, that it has
+more tenderness and pathos, gives more of picture to the eye, and of
+feeling to the heart, than any other in the language which is written in
+the same verse or metre. The polished couplets of Pope are nowhere else
+seen united with so much of the genuine essence of poetry. How perfect,
+in every way, are such lines as these,—
+
+            “But in his duty prompt at every call,
+            He watched and wept, he pray’d and felt for all;
+            And, as a bird each fond endearment tries,
+            To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
+            He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
+            Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.”
+
+One more remark, one other brief quotation, and we quit this most
+fascinating poem, which nestles deeper in the English heart than perhaps
+any other. What a bland, gentle, loving humour it is which occasionally
+steals over the picture of _The Deserted Village_, giving here and there
+charming touches, as of gay sunshine breaking out upon the several
+points of a shaded landscape, yet never disturbing the sweet serenity
+and sadness of the whole. Never did humour wear so gentle an aspect. We
+go from the pastor’s house, and the pastor himself, to the village inn,
+and there is no abruptness in the transition. What a quiet, observant,
+tolerant humour it is that sees those—“broken tea-cups, _wisely kept for
+show_.” What else could they serve for? And they may still do to be
+looked at.
+
+           “Vain transitory splendours! could not all
+           Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall?
+           Observe it sinks, nor shall it more impart
+           _An hour’s importance to the poor man’s heart_.
+           Thither no more the peasant shall repair,
+           To sweet oblivion of his daily care;
+           No more the farmer’s news, the barber’s tale,
+           No more the woodman’s ballad shall prevail;
+           No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,
+           _Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear_.”
+
+But why continue the quotation, when half our readers could complete it
+from their own memory?
+
+We proposed to ourselves a glance at _The Citizen of the World_ and _The
+Vicar of Wakefield_. It can only be a glance.
+
+Is this really the same—we are tempted to ask ourselves—is this really
+the same _Citizen of the World_ that, on our first introduction to the
+acquaintance of books, we read, amongst the _British Essayist_, with so
+grave attention, and so implicit a faith? Yes, it is the same; for here
+is the Man in Black, and here is the unmistakeable Beau Tibbs. Can we
+possibly forget the invitation to dinner—on the first floor down the
+chimney—something elegant, a turbot or an ortolan, which finally
+resolves itself into “a nice little piece of ox-cheek, piping hot, which
+Mrs Tibbs shall dress herself with that sauce the Duke dotes upon,”—and
+which dinner, if his hungry guest will but wait, shall be “ready in at
+least two hours.” Yes, here is Beau Tibbs as full of life as ever. But
+the Chinese philosopher—he is gone;—there is left of _him_, or of China,
+nothing but his name, and the suspicious name of his correspondent,
+“Fum, the son of Fo.” Instead thereof, we have Oliver Goldsmith writing
+his series of clever _Idlers_ and _Spectators_.
+
+Pity this Chinaman ever made his appearance. All the humour and satire
+of the piece might have been preserved, if some simple Englishman, some
+Parson Adams or Dr Primrose, had been the writer of the letters; and we
+should have been spared the constant incongruity of a Chinese who is not
+only a palpable European, but a European of the literary class. So
+completely versed is this Chinese philosopher in the feuds and vexations
+of critics and authors, that we must suppose him commissioned by the
+Grub Street of Pekin, to inquire into the condition of distressed poets
+and discontented playwrights amongst the “outer barbarians.” We should
+have been spared also those episodes, or adventures, which _his_ Eastern
+correspondents detail to him, and which, indeed, are neither European
+nor Eastern, but very tedious stories.
+
+In vain does the Chinaman assume the prejudices of his country: he may
+amuse us; but he cannot even get a momentary credit for the outlandish
+taste he affects. He cannot disparage the beauty of Englishwomen,
+without insinuating his praise of them. There is as much flattery as
+abuse, when he says:—
+
+
+  “I shall never forget the beauties of my native city of Nanfew. How
+  very broad their faces! how very short their noses! how very little
+  their eyes! how very thin their lips! how very black their teeth. Here
+  a lady with such perfections would be frightful: Dutch and Chinese
+  beauties, indeed, have some resemblance, but Englishwomen are entirely
+  different; red cheeks, big eyes, and teeth of a most odious whiteness,
+  are not only seen here, but wished for; and then they have such
+  masculine feet, as actually serve some for walking.”
+
+
+That which constitutes the greatest charm of the work is the subdued and
+chastened satire one occasionally meets with. Not a rude and boisterous,
+a cutting or malicious satire, but such as requires to be read with some
+attention before the full force of its sly inuendos, and of slight
+circumstances mentioned as if in passing, is fully perceived. Take the
+following instance, and note how the effect is heightened by a number of
+little details, thrown in as if by accident.
+
+
+  “A few days ago, passing by one of their prisons, I could not avoid
+  stopping in order to listen to a dialogue which I thought might afford
+  me some entertainment. The conversation was carried on between a
+  debtor through the grate of his prison, a porter who had stopped to
+  rest his burden, and a soldier at the window. The subject was upon a
+  threatened invasion from France, and each seemed extremely anxious to
+  rescue his country from the impending danger. ‘For my part,’ cries the
+  prisoner, ‘the greatest of my apprehension is for our freedom: if the
+  French should conquer, what would become of English liberty? My dear
+  friends, liberty is the Englishman’s prerogative; we must preserve
+  that at the expense of our lives: of that the French shall never
+  deprive us; it is not to be expected that men who are slaves
+  themselves, would preserve our freedom should they happen to conquer.’
+  ‘Ay, slaves,’ cries the porter; ‘they are all slaves, fit only to
+  carry burdens, every one of them. Before I would stoop to slavery, may
+  this be my poison, (and he held the goblet in his hand,) may this be
+  my poison—but I would sooner list for a soldier.’
+
+  “The soldier, taking the goblet from his friend, with much awe
+  fervently cried out, ‘It is not so much our liberties as our religion
+  that would suffer by such a change: ay, our religion, my lads. May the
+  devil sink me into flames (such was the solemnity of his adjuration)
+  if the French should come over, but our religion would be utterly
+  undone.’ So saying, instead of a libation, he applied the goblet to
+  his lips, and confirmed his sentiments with a ceremony of the most
+  persevering devotion.”
+
+
+There are some works so simple in their structure, and so highly
+popular, that on both grounds they defy criticism. Their faults lie so
+open and undisguised, that the critic who would pertinaciously insist
+upon them, would get neither credit nor thanks for his pains. In this
+category is _The Vicar of Wakefield_. To expose its improbabilities of
+plot or character would be an easy and most ungracious task. We love the
+good Vicar, and he shall be allowed to tell his tale to the end of time
+just as he pleases. To be sure, this odd notion he entertains, that a
+clergyman ought by all means to marry once, and by no means more than
+once, is very like a monomania. He is so staunch a _monogamist_, as he
+calls it, as to be resolved on convincing his old friend and
+fellow-clergyman, Mr Wilmot, who has been married three times. But this,
+and all the wonderful things which the Thornhills, nephew and uncle,
+contrive to do, who cares to cavil at? The genuine feelings of human
+nature are portrayed in the novel,—kind, homely, unpretending feelings
+which all can sympathise with—and when the attention is once fixed by
+this species of truth, a thousand improbabilities may pass without
+challenge. It is always thus. The writer of fiction, whether it be fable
+or romance, and whether he deal with man or monster, or spirit of the
+air, has always found that if he can present a faithful reflexion of the
+human heart, he may give almost any conceivable license to the
+imagination.
+
+What most struck us on a late perusal of _The Vicar of Wakefield_, was
+the very low level, in point of refinement, on which all the female
+characters are placed. The love and the courtship are of the rudest
+sort, without the least trace of sentiment or the poetry of the passion.
+Mrs Primrose, notwithstanding the excellence of her gooseberry wine, and
+the liberality with which she dispenses it, is, we are sorry to say,
+decidedly a vulgar personage. That her learning and accomplishments were
+those which we should now assign to the housekeeper, rather than to the
+wife of a wealthy vicar, (for such is Dr Primrose when we are first
+introduced to him,) is no part of our objection; this the difference of
+times and systems of education may sufficiently explain. Mrs Primrose is
+vulgar _at the heart_. She lacks those feelings of refinement which
+sometimes grow up spontaneously even in the peasant’s hut.
+
+Recall to mind the manner in which she receives back her unfortunate
+daughter Olivia. Let it be remembered that she had been practising her
+petty blundering artifices, her most visible palpable manœuvres, to
+catch the rich young squire. It was her plot, her scheme for elevating
+the family; in which scheme her daughter was of course to co-operate.
+Yet this is her speech upon the occasion. It is true human nature, but
+it is human nature of a very vulgar description. “Ah, Madam,” cried her
+mother, “this is but a poor place you are come to after so much finery.
+My daughter Sophy and I can afford but little entertainment to persons
+who have kept company only with people of distinction. Yes, Miss Livy,
+your poor father and I have suffered very much of late; but I hope
+Heaven will forgive you.”
+
+This Olivia herself is not made interesting to us by any one trait in
+her character. Her beauty, and the cruel treatment she meets with from
+her coarse and brazen seducer, is all she has to depend upon for any
+claim to our sympathy. Affliction has its worst effect upon her, the
+effect it has on the selfish and unrefined. “Every tender epithet
+bestowed on her sister brought a pang to her heart, and a tear to her
+eye; and as one vice, when cured, ever plants others where it has been,
+so her former guilt, though driven out by repentance, left jealousy and
+envy behind.” It is just as well we do not get more intimate with the
+female part of the family, for it is evident that in proportion as we
+knew them better, we should like them less.
+
+Had the life of Goldsmith brought him acquainted with no higher
+specimens of the sex? Had his fair cousin Jane, the daughter of good
+Uncle Contarine, with whom he used to practise music, and talk poetry,
+left with him no more refined impression of female society than we see
+reflected in _The Vicar of Wakefield_? Or, must we understand his
+portraits as fair specimens of the women of his time? Or, shall we seek
+a third explanation in the want of refinement in the literature of that
+period? We suspect the last has much to do with it.
+
+Here we must bring to a conclusion our necessarily detached and
+desultory criticisms on the works of Goldsmith. As a _prose_ writer, it
+would be in vain for any too partial biographer or critic to elevate him
+to the rank of those who guide or confirm opinion, and teach us to
+reason and to judge. But how many a familiar truth has he clothed in
+clear and graceful diction! How often, too, the isolated observation,
+thrown out as if by happy chance, stimulates the mind to reflection!
+What a master he is of _form_—of the pleasing art which moulds the
+style! But his two principal _poems_ are the works which raise him to
+the rank of _the immortals_. We can easily understand that many ardent
+admirers of our contemporaneous poetry—replete as it is with the
+philosophic speculations of the age, its subtle and ambitious
+thinking—may be disposed to look down with an air of condescension, and
+a sort of gentle disdain, upon the poetry of Goldsmith. But time passes
+on, and brings new modes of philosophising; the subtleties of one age do
+not always charm the next; and it may happen that much which is now held
+in highest repute, as the most _poetical_ of poetry, shall have grown
+dim and obsolete, whilst mothers shall be still teaching to their
+children, and old men still repeating to themselves, the descriptions of
+_The Traveller_ and of _The Deserted Village_.
+
+
+
+
+                      TO BURNS’S “HIGHLAND MARY.”
+
+
+                                 I.
+
+             O loved by him whom Scotland loves,
+               Long loved, and honoured duly
+             By all who love the bard who sang
+               So sweetly and so truly!
+             In cultured dales his song prevails,
+               Thrills o’er the eagle’s aëry,—
+             Ah! who that strain has caught, nor sighed
+               For Burns’s “Highland Mary?”
+
+
+                                 II.
+
+             I wandered on from hill to hill,
+               I feared nor wind nor weather;
+             For Burns beside me trode the moor,
+               Beside me pressed the heather.
+             I read his verse—his life—alas!
+               O’er that dark shades extended:—
+             With thee at last, and him in thee,
+               My thoughts their wanderings ended.
+
+
+                                 III.
+
+             His golden hours of youth were thine—
+               Those hours whose flight is fleetest;
+             Of all his songs to thee he gave
+               The freshest and the sweetest.
+             Ere ripe the fruit, one branch he brake,
+               All rich with bloom and blossom;
+             And shook its dews, its incense shook,
+               Above thy brow and bosom.
+
+
+                                 IV.
+
+             And when his Spring, alas, how soon!
+               Had been by care subverted,
+             His Summer, like a god repulsed,
+               Had from his gates departed;
+             Beneath the evening star, once more,
+               Star of his morn and even!
+             To thee his suppliant hands he spread,
+               And hailed his love “in heaven.”
+
+
+                                 V.
+
+             And if his spirit in “a waste
+               Of shame” too oft was squandered,
+             And if too oft his feet ill-starred
+               In ways erroneous wandered;
+             Yet still his spirit’s spirit bathed
+               In purity eternal;
+             And all fair things through thee retained
+               For him their aspect vernal.
+
+
+                                 VI.
+
+             Nor less that tenderness remained
+               Thy favouring love implanted;
+             Compunctious pity, yearnings vague
+               For love to earth not granted;
+             Reserve with freedom, female grace
+               Well matched with manly vigour,
+             In songs where fancy twined her wreaths
+               Round judgment’s stalwart rigour.
+
+
+                                 VII.
+
+             A mute but strong appeal was made
+               To him by feeblest creatures;
+             In his large heart had each a part
+               That part had found in Nature’s.
+             The wildered sheep, sagacious dog,
+               Old horse reduced and crazy,
+             The field-mouse by the plough upturned,
+               And violated daisy.
+
+
+                                 VIII.
+
+             In him there burned that passionate glow,
+               All Nature’s soul and savour,
+             Which gives its hue to every flower,
+               To every fruit its flavour.
+             Nor less the kindred power he felt,
+               That love of all things human,
+             Whereof the fiery centre is
+               The love man bears to woman.
+
+
+                                 IX.
+
+             He sang the dignity of man,
+               Sang woman’s grace and goodness;
+             Passed by the world’s half-truths, her lies
+               Pierced through with lance-like shrewdness.
+             Upon life’s broad highways he stood,
+               And aped nor Greek nor Roman;
+             But snatched from heaven Promethean fire
+               To glorify things common.
+
+
+                                 X.
+
+             He sang of youth, he sang of age,
+               Their joys, their griefs, their labours;
+             Felt with, not for, the people; hailed
+               All Scotland’s sons his neighbours:
+             And therefore all repeat his verse—
+               Hot youth, or graybeard steady,
+             The boat-man on Loch Etive’s wave,
+               The shepherd on Ben Ledi.
+
+
+                                 XI.
+
+             He sang from love of song; his name
+               Dunedin’s cliff resounded:—
+             He left her, faithful to a fame
+               On truth and nature founded.
+             He sought true fame, not loud acclaim;
+               Himself and Time he trusted:
+             For laurels crackling in the flame
+               His fine ear never lusted.
+
+
+                                 XII.
+
+             He loved, and reason had to love.
+               The illustrious land that bore him:
+             Where’er he went, like heaven’s broad tent
+               A star-bright Past hung o’er him.
+             Each isle had fenced a saint recluse,
+               Each tower a hero dying;
+             Down every mountain-gorge had rolled
+               The flood of foemen flying.
+
+
+                                 XIII.
+
+             From age to age that land had paid
+               No alien throne submission,
+             For feudal faith had been her Law,
+               And freedom her Tradition.
+             Where frowned the rocks had Freedom smiled,
+               Sung, mid the shrill wind’s whistle—
+             So England prized her garden Rose,
+               But Scotland loved her Thistle.
+
+
+                                 XIV.
+
+             The land thus pure from foreign foot,
+               Her growing powers thus centred
+             Around her heart, with other lands
+               The race historic entered.
+             Her struggling dawn, convulsed or bright,
+               Worked on through storms and troubles,
+             Whilst a heroic line of kings
+               Strove with heroic nobles.
+
+
+                                 XV.
+
+             Fair field alone the brave demand,
+               And Scotland ne’er had lost it:
+             And honest prove the hate and love
+               To objects meet adjusted.
+             Intelligible course was hers
+               By safety tried or danger:
+             The native was for native known—
+               The stranger known for stranger.
+
+
+                                 XVI.
+
+             Honour in her a sphere had found,
+               Nobility a station,
+             The patriots’ thought the task it sought,
+               And virtue—toleration.
+             Her will and way had ne’er been crossed
+               In fatal contradiction;
+             Nor loyalty to treason soured,
+               Nor faith abused with fiction.
+
+
+                                 XVII.
+
+             Can song be mute where hearts are sound?
+               Weak doubts—away we fling them!
+             The land that breeds great men, great deeds,
+               Should ne’er lack bards to sing them.
+             That vigour, sense, and mutual truth
+               Which baffled each invader,
+             Shall fill her marts, and feed her arts,
+               While peaceful olives shade her.
+
+
+                                 XVIII.
+
+             Honour to Scotland and to Burns!
+               In him she stands collected.
+             A thousand streams one river make—
+               Thus Genius, heaven-directed,
+             Conjoins all separate veins of power
+               In one great soul-creation;
+             And blends a million men to make
+               The Poet of the nation.
+
+
+                                 XIX.
+
+             Honour to Burns! and her who first
+               Let loose the abounding river
+             Of music from the Poet’s heart,
+               Borne through all lands for ever!
+             How much to her mankind has owed
+               Of song’s selectest treasures!
+             Unsweetened by her kiss, his lips
+               Had sung far other measures.
+
+
+                                 XX.
+
+             Be green for aye, green bank and brae
+               Around Montgomery’s Castle!
+             Blow there, ye earliest flowers! and there,
+               Ye sweetest song-birds, nestle!
+             For there was ta’en that last farewell
+               In hope, indulged how blindly;
+             And there was given that long last gaze
+               “That dwelt” on him “sae kindly.”
+
+
+                                 XXI.
+
+             No word of thine recorded stands;
+               Few words that hour were spoken:
+             Two Bibles there were interchanged,
+               And some slight love-gift broken.
+             And there thy cold faint hands he pressed,
+               Thy head by dewdrops misted;
+             And kisses, ill-resisted first,
+               At last were unresisted.
+
+
+                                 XXII.
+
+             Ah cease!—she died. He too is dead.
+               Of all her girlish graces
+             Perhaps one nameless lock remains:
+               The rest stern Time effaces—
+             Dust lost in dust. Not so: a bloom
+               Is hers that ne’er can wither;
+             And in that lay which lives for aye
+               The twain live on together.
+
+
+
+
+                          MY PENINSULAR MEDAL.
+                         BY AN OLD PENINSULAR.
+                          PART IV.—CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Next morning, I commenced my regular attendance at the office; all hands
+employed in counting money.
+
+“Well, Mr Y—,” said my commanding officer, “I fear you find the
+gentleman with whom you lodge rather dull company.”
+
+“Particularly lively, sir; never met with a more pleasant person.”
+
+“Thought he was rather morose,” replied Mr Q—. “That’s the character he
+bears amongst his acquaintance here.”
+
+“Quite cheerful and obliging, sir; sings a good song. Yesterday he
+invited a couple of friends to meet me at dinner. Does all he can to
+make me comfortable, even to his own inconvenience. Last night, as we
+were short of blankets, he forced me to take his greatcoat, which he
+generally puts upon his own bed. Offered, as a favour, to sell it me, as
+I am going up to the army. Only asks ten dollars.”
+
+“Yes, yes; he’s always trying to bargain. That’s what has got him such a
+bad name here. Constantly on the look-out to turn a penny. Well, do you
+buy the pony?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said I; “we settled about that this morning at breakfast.
+Shall have to trouble you for the needful, as he would like to be paid
+in the course of the day.”
+
+“In the course of the day? Oh, very well. The cashier may as well give
+it you at once. Stop; I’ll write you an order. At the same time, I feel
+it my duty to say this to you; mind and take a receipt. How much will
+you draw?”
+
+“I suppose, sir, the usual allowance granted by Government, eighty
+dollars. That, he said, of course.”
+
+“What! Eighty dollars for that beast of a pony? Why, Mr Y—, one would
+think you had come out direct from England! Saddle and bridle in? Of
+course.”
+
+“No, sir; we are to settle about the saddle and bridle to-morrow. Said
+he didn’t know what he _ought_ to ask for them.”
+
+“Ought!—a rascal! He knows very well, when you’ve got the pony, you
+_must_ have the saddle and bridle. Don’t know of a saddle that would
+suit Sancho, in all Passages. Well, Mr Y—; I feel it my duty to say this
+to you—it’s a regular take-in. Sixty dollars I should call a high
+figure, saddle and bridle included. If you can sell at headquarters for
+forty, you may think yourself well off.”
+
+“Hadn’t I better go and pitch into him, sir?”
+
+“Pitch into him? Nonsense. That won’t do here, Mr Y—. Besides, a
+bargain’s a bargain, you know. If you have said eighty, it must be
+eighty. Have you looked out for a fresh billet?”
+
+“Didn’t know there was any occasion, sir.”
+
+“You don’t expect to pass another night in your present quarters, after
+you have paid for Sancho? If you complete the purchase this morning,
+depend upon it, you’ll have to get other accommodation before bed-time.”
+
+“I’m rather at a loss how to proceed, sir.”
+
+“Why, let me see. I must consider. Go and tell him—yes—go and tell him,
+for that money you ought to have saddle and bridle in. Tell him so, from
+me. We must try and be a match for this gentleman. Don’t think it right
+that your uncle’s nephew, the moment he joins, should be pigeoned at
+this rate. Stop—tell him, at the same time, you can’t purchase till the
+day you’re off. Under all the circumstances of the case, I feel it my
+duty to say this to you; till then, I shall keep the eighty dollars in
+the military chest. While you’re here, he may as well have the bother of
+keeping Sancho as you. And, besides, while the bargain’s open—don’t you
+see?—you won’t be disturbed in your quarters. If you lose them, the
+place is so crowded, ten to one I shall be forced to accommodate you
+_myself_.”
+
+Charged with what promised to prove an awkward negotiation, I walked off
+to find my friend. Nothing of the kind. He took it all with the greatest
+good-humour; consented with alacrity to throw in the saddle and bridle;
+and as to the money, why, if it wasn’t forthcoming at once, he could
+wait till it was.
+
+Three hands of us, counting dollars till dinner-time, did a good stroke
+of work:—only that plaguy “small mixed” was a serious addition to our
+labours. Fancy a bag of small silver, a thousand dollars in amount, shot
+out before you on the table; a heap of mingled coin, specimens of every
+fraction of a dollar, that ever issued in silver from the Spanish mint;
+the whole lot to be sorted, counted, and made right. A single bag took
+us often two or three hours. As to counting a bag of whole dollars, that
+was a far easier job. Count ten; set them on the table in a pile. Ten
+such piles in a row make a hundred; ten such rows in a square make one
+thousand:—the bag is counted. Unluckily, though, your last pile is
+sometimes nine, or eleven, instead of ten. Ah, you’re a greenhorn;
+you’ve counted wrong. Then down goes your nose to the edge of the table;
+your eye glances over the summit of the piles. Discover, if you can, a
+pile higher or lower than the rest: the error is then detected. Should
+you fail, there’s no remedy: “Mr Snooks, you had better count the whole
+again.” Still wrong? then some older hand is set to count. Can’t he get
+it right? Why, then, the bag is wrong. Set it on one side and count
+another. Fingers sore, about the third day. With the first day’s
+counting they get a little black; on the second, rough, and painful;
+third, cracked, and begin to bleed. About this time comes a thundering
+letter, blowing up the whole department sky high, for not having the
+money ready to pay the troops. What your fingers are, if the counting
+goes on a day or two longer, especially with the encouraging
+accompaniment of a rap on the knuckles, I leave you to guess. We had a
+military guard; four Germans, one of them a corporal. The man on duty as
+sentry walked up and down in the passage, while the other three sat over
+a small fire in an adjoining room. They could sing in parts—sang well.
+One of them struck up, the others followed, the sentry joined in as he
+paced the lobby. Sometimes it was a national song, sometimes a hymn.
+Nothing, in sacred music, like those German hymns. But then, take
+notice, you must have German voices to do them justice. The men of our
+guard were quiet, sober, well-conducted fellows; always willing to make
+themselves useful; rendered us great assistance in helping the carpenter
+to open and close the boxes, and in lifting the bags from the boxes to
+the table, and _vice versâ_. Mr Q—, as an acknowledgment, made a
+handsome addition to their supper.
+
+Our dinner was strictly departmental, very much to my taste; quite a
+sort of family party. No one was present save the gentlemen of our own
+office at Passages. Mr Q—, I rather suspect, wanted to give me some idea
+of my duties, in the responsible charge of conducting treasure to
+headquarters through the enemy’s country. Perhaps he thought a little
+chat amongst ourselves would be the best mode of instruction.
+
+Towards the close of the evening, as we sat talking over departmental
+matters, each with his tumbler before him—hot,—our conversation was
+interrupted by a tap at the door. “Come in,” said Mr Q—.
+
+The door opened; and in the doorway appeared one of our German guard.
+With an earnest but somewhat vacant look, and his hand spread out upon
+his breast, he stood erect, his appearance that of a man who wants
+words, but is very anxious to speak. At length he began: “_Mine haarrt
+ist folle._” Just at that moment the corporal appeared behind, seized
+the orator by the shoulders, and cut short his harangue by spinning him
+round into the passage, and closing the door. “Oh, I see how it is,”
+said Mr Q—. “The extra allowance has got into his head. He wants to
+return thanks for his supper; that’s all.”
+
+Presently there was a scuffle outside. Again the door opened; and again
+the same individual made his appearance, commencing as before, with
+pathos and much gravity, “_Mine haarrt ist folle._” The corporal
+interposed once more; but another scuffle ensued in the passage,
+followed by a third visit, with similar results.
+
+“Better get him to turn in,” said Mr Q—; but that was more English than
+the corporal understood. Recollecting a few German words, I contrived to
+make the command intelligible; and partly by force, partly by
+persuasion, our grateful friend was stowed away for the night; still
+exclaiming, from time to time, “_Mine haarrt ist folle_,” and making
+strenuous efforts to break away from his comrades, come back, and finish
+his oration. When all was quiet, I took my leave for the night. The
+sound of my footsteps caught his ear, and set him off again. His voice
+grew louder as my distance increased; and “_Mine haarrt ist folle_”
+resounded in the street. Next morning he came up to me, looking very
+sheepish and compunctious; and commenced a long discourse in German,
+expressive of his profound regret. This at his request I interpreted, as
+far as able, to his “Excellenz” the “Haupt.”
+
+At length arrived the day, the important day, of my departure to join
+the army. It was arranged that the treasure should be conveyed up the
+harbour in boats to the bridge of Oyarzun, with a guard of soldiers. At
+Oyarzun we were to sleep the first night; and there, also, we were to
+meet the rest of our escort, and the mules intended to convey the money.
+My friend and I had arranged it together, that he was to bring Sancho to
+the office in the course of the morning, saddled and bridled. I was then
+to pay the purchase-money, and the pony would be mine. My friend was
+punctual to his time; Sancho stood at the door; and I applied to Mr Q—
+for the eighty dollars.
+
+“Oh yes, of course,” said he; “may as well give it you at once. Is the
+pony at Oyarzun?”
+
+“No, sir; he’s here, at the door.”
+
+“Here at the door? Then how do you mean to get him to Oyarzun?” I had
+never thought of that.
+
+“Can’t he go with us, in one of the boats, sir?”
+
+“Oh yes, certainly; yes, yes. If they were horse-boats, of course he
+could. But as they are common ship-boats, borrowed for the occasion from
+the transports in harbour, how will you get him in, and how will you get
+him out? Not to mention that he might take to kicking; and kick out a
+plank from the bottom of the boat, as you were pulling up the harbour.
+In that case, the treasure would have a short voyage, and you too.”
+
+“Hadn’t I better mention it to my friend, sir?”
+
+“Why, yes; I think you had. Stop; let me see. Suppose you request him to
+step in. I’ll speak to him myself.”
+
+I invited my friend into the office. He entered smiling—rubbed his
+hands—looked sleeky and resigned—evidently thought he was going to
+realise.
+
+“Well, sir,” said Mr Q—, addressing my friend, “this is an awkward
+business about the pony. I don’t see how the purchase can be completed.”
+
+“Completed, sir?” said my friend, rather taken aback, and losing his
+temper. “I thought it _was_ completed, all but paying the money.”
+
+“Very true, sir,” said Mr Q—; “but that, you know, makes all the
+difference. The money is not paid; and, more than that, it’s not issued.
+And, sir, under all the circumstances of the case, I feel it my duty to
+say this to you; unless I see everything straight, I don’t intend to
+issue it.”
+
+“Well, sir,” said my friend, “I conceive everything _is_ straight, so
+far as I am concerned. There stands the pony, at the door.”
+
+“Yes, I know he does. But how is he to be got to the head of the
+harbour?”
+
+“Of course I supposed Mr Y— would ride him, sir.”
+
+“No, no; that’s out of the question. The treasure goes by water; and of
+course, being in charge, Mr Y— must go with it.”
+
+“Well, sir,” replied my friend, “if that’s all, my servant shall take
+the pony.”
+
+“Oh, very well, sir,” said Mr Q—, “if you think you can trust your
+servant to receive and bring back the purchase-money.”
+
+“No occasion for that, sir; I can receive it here, sir, if you’ve no
+objection.”
+
+“None whatever, when I know that the pony is delivered at Oyarzun. Not
+before delivery, of course.”
+
+My friend was seized with a fit of musing;—looked rather at a loss. At
+length he found his tongue.
+
+“The long and the short of it is, I think, sir, I had better ride the
+pony to Oyarzun myself, and make the delivery in person.”
+
+“Very well, sir,” said Mr Q—. “I think so too. Then, on receiving the
+pony at Oyarzun, Mr Y— will pay you the eighty dollars. Will you favour
+us with your company? We are just going to lunch.”
+
+“Thank you, sir; much obliged. Think I had better be off at once. Mr Y—
+will not reach Oyarzun till late; and it’s out of the question my
+returning to Passages after dark, especially on foot, and with a lot of
+dollars.”
+
+“Oh, certainly; and by such a horrid, cut-throat, out-of-the-way road,
+too. You’d certainly be robbed and murdered; that is, if you get safe
+there. Better secure a night’s lodging at Oyarzun, if there’s one to be
+had, sir.”
+
+“Yes, and come back to-morrow by daylight. Well, the sooner I’m off the
+better. Good morning, sir.”
+
+“Good morning, sir.” My friend mounted Sancho at the door, and set off
+forthwith to Oyarzun.
+
+Mr Q—, laughing heartily, then handed me my route, made out in due form.
+
+While I was making the necessary arrangements for my start in the
+afternoon, Mr Q— summoned me into his private apartment. He had doffed
+his blue frock with black velvet collar, and now appeared in full fig,
+departmental coat, epaulet on his shoulder, staff-hat on the table. His
+manner was serious, but friendly.
+
+“You are probably aware, Mr Y—,” said he, “that the Allied army is not
+likely to resume active operations for some days.”
+
+“So I have understood, sir,” said I.
+
+“I presume, however, you are not acquainted with the cause of this
+temporary inactivity.”
+
+“Can’t say I am, sir.”
+
+“It is, I believe I may venture to inform you, principally the want of
+money. That deficiency your arrival will supply. You will readily
+perceive, then, how much depends on your conducting the treasure safely,
+and delivering it by the time when it is looked for. Your route lies
+through the enemy’s country; but the population is now comparatively
+quiet; the date of your departure is known at headquarters, and, I have
+no doubt, every requisite arrangement has been made to secure the safety
+of your convoy. All such arrangements, however, proceed, and must
+proceed, on one supposition—namely, that the officer in charge is, on
+his part, competent to the task committed to him, obeys his orders, and
+does his duty properly. You will readily perceive, then, that some
+measure of responsibility rests upon your own shoulders.”
+
+“Yes, sir; and, in the course of the last few days, I have been thinking
+on that subject more than once.”
+
+“All the better. Mr Y—, if you had ever discharged this duty before, I
+should now merely wish you a pleasant journey, and send you off. But
+this is your first expedition; it is one, to speak candidly, of greater
+risk than any that has hitherto fallen to our department. The army is
+considerably in advance in the French territory; you have before you six
+or seven days’ march upon French ground; it will, of course, be
+discovered that you carry money—there is no concealing that; a convoy
+like yours will naturally excite the cupidity of partisans and
+marauders; from St Jean de Luz to headquarters you will not find a
+single officer of our department to give you the benefit of his
+experience; and, under all the circumstances of the case, I feel it my
+duty to say this to you—mind what you are about; on no account separate
+from your convoy; let nothing induce you to deviate from the written
+route; always reach the specified station at the specified time; keep
+your escort sober, if you can; keep your muleteers in good-humour; keep
+your mules well together on the line of march; and, if you are asked
+questions, don’t be lavish of information. The French, Mr Y—, though an
+inquisitive people, are not apt to interrogate official persons out of
+mere curiosity. If, therefore, any individual should pester you with
+inquiries, depend upon it he has a motive.”
+
+“I suppose, sir,” said I, “in such a case, it will be as well to return
+some sort of a general reply, just to avoid the appearance of mystery.”
+
+“Exactly that,” said Mr Q—. “When a gentleman makes an inquiry, you are
+bound, by etiquette, to give him a _reply_. Whether you give him an
+_answer_ is optional, and a matter of discretion.
+
+“By the bye,” added Mr Q—, after a pause, “I shouldn’t wonder if you
+missed the pony, after all—no great harm if you do. To be sure, you must
+march on foot, the first day or two; but you won’t mind that; and you
+will have your eighty dollars. Put twenty to them, and I shouldn’t
+wonder if you pick up a very tolerable mule, which will answer your
+purpose far better. Then, if at headquarters you wish to come out well
+mounted, and choose to buy a horse, a mule, you know, will always fetch
+its value.”
+
+“I hope, sir,” said I, “we shall have a good escort.”
+
+“Oh, yes—the escort. That is one of the subjects I wish to mention.
+Well, Mr Y—, you must do the best you can with them. Your escort
+consists of twenty men; not, I am sorry to say, twenty men of any one
+corps, but twenty men of twenty different regiments; men who have been
+in hospital at Vittoria, sick or wounded—have recovered, and are now on
+their return to headquarters—not exactly the guard I should have wished
+to provide, but the best I could get for you. The worst is, I have seen
+the officer who is to command them, and don’t like him at all. Hope you
+will like him better than I do. Hope he won’t give you trouble, or prove
+incompetent. Should he turn out not quite the person you wish, or should
+your escort appear insufficient, say nothing till you reach St Jean de
+Luz, up to which point I consider you as safe as if travelling in
+England. Then wait upon old Colonel B—, the commandant; state your case
+to him; and he, I have no doubt, will make the best arrangements in his
+power, for the security of your subsequent progress. Come, Mr Y—, after
+dinner, we’ll see you into the boat.”
+
+“Perhaps, sir,” said I, “you will oblige me with a line to the
+commandant, to be presented if the case requires.”
+
+“No need of that,” said he, “I wrote to the Colonel yesterday, after
+seeing the gentleman who goes with you.”
+
+Before leaving the room, I very heartily thanked my commanding officer
+for all his good advice, forethought, and kind attentions. We then shook
+hands upon it, in the usual English style; and I held by the paw as
+worthy a little man as ever trod shoe-leather, and as smart an officer
+as ever drew rations.
+
+The dinner was again departmental, and so was the talk. “It is the boast
+of our department,” said Mr Q—, “that, since we have served in the
+Peninsula under our present commander-in-chief, no treasure in our
+keeping, not even a single mule’s load of specie, has ever been captured
+by the enemy. Recollect that, Mr Y—, and keep up our character.”
+
+“Didn’t we once lose a box of papers, sir?” said one of my
+fellow-clerks.
+
+“We did,” said Mr Q—; “but, two days after, it was recaptured, and all
+the papers found right. That was on the retreat, subsequent to the
+battle of Talavera. I see nothing of the boats,” he added, rising, and
+walking to the balcony. “Hope they’ll be here in time.”
+
+“Get him to tell about that campaign,” whispered the senior of my
+fellow-clerks, winking to the junior. “Did you ever hear him tell it, Mr
+Y—?”
+
+“I think, sir, in the course of that campaign,” said the junior,
+addressing Mr Q—, on his return to the table, “the whole department
+together, chest and all, had a narrow escape from being captured.”
+
+“Not exactly,” said Mr Q—, “because we obeyed orders. Had we not, we
+should have had no escape at all: we must have been taken, every man of
+us. The boats are not in sight, so I’ll just tell you how it was.
+Gentlemen, try this Madeira. We halted one evening, after a weary march,
+in a village. The rain was coming down in torrents. We unloaded the
+treasure, and housed it, glad enough to get a little rest. Just at that
+moment, Mr Y—, an order came to your uncle, to load again, and be ready
+to move on at a moment’s warning, but not to stir till further notice.
+Well, sir, we made ready again, with all expedition; the night closed
+in; the rain fell, heavier than ever; and an anxious time we had of it.
+Parties of stragglers, one after the other, came hurrying through the
+village—one set assuring us the enemy were close at their heels, another
+telling us we had better be off, another warning us, if we stayed there,
+we should all be taken, and serve us right. I own I felt rather nervous;
+but the Governor would not budge. He had got his directions, he said,
+not to proceed without further orders; and there he should wait,
+treasure and all, till the orders came. Presently, in a mighty bustle,
+up rode a general officer. Begged to know, in a tone of authority, why
+we were waiting there. The Governor replied as before. ‘Well, but it was
+perfectly absurd. The enemy were close at hand—on our flanks, right and
+left.’ Couldn’t move the Governor. The general grew angry, swore, almost
+threatened. ‘Will you move on, sir, or will you not?’ Then clapped spurs
+to his horse, in a towering passion, and rode away with a wave of his
+hand, as if saying, ‘I leave you to your fate.’ Well, gentlemen, we
+waited, waited till midnight. No order came. Waited on till morning
+dawned. Then, at length, came a staff-officer, with a message from his
+lordship, directing us to proceed. We did so; and found the general
+quite right in one thing—the French had been on our flanks. But not only
+that; they had been in our front. During the night, they had occupied in
+force the very road by which we were to pass. Had we started sooner, we
+should have walked right into them.”
+
+The boats now made their appearance, and were soon alongside the jetty.
+A working party embarked the treasure, packed, as before, in boxes. I
+then said farewell, and took my seat. With three boat-loads of treasure,
+and a guard of a corporal and six soldiers, we pulled away for the
+bridge of Oyarzun. There we found three individuals expecting our
+arrival—Captain Rattler, who was appointed to command our escort, my
+friend, and Sancho.
+
+I completed the purchase of Sancho, by handing over to my friend the
+eighty dollars, and receiving an acknowledgment of the same, which he
+had brought in his pocket. Just at that moment, my attention was called
+from my friend, by something in the boats. The next instant I turned, to
+resume our conversation—he had vanished! By the dim ray of evening at
+length I caught sight of him in the distance, walking down the road
+towards the town. My friend! My jolly, good-humoured, hospitable friend!
+My friend, who could sing a good song! My friend, who laughed
+indiscriminately and immoderately at all my jokes! He had got his money.
+It was all he wanted. He was off, without staying to say “Good night!”
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+The departure of my friend was soon followed by that of the boats. The
+treasure was then placed in security for the night, in charge of two
+sentries; and Captain Rattler politely offered me accommodation in his
+quarters, as well as stable-room for Sancho. We accordingly started
+together, I leading the pony; when one of the soldiers stepped up, and,
+saluting in due form, took hold of the bridle. “Well,” said I, “just
+lead him to the stable, will you?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said he smartly; “and take care on him too, sir. Git across
+him, sir, if you’ve no objections, sir. Got a bullet in my leg, sir.”
+
+Suiting the action to the word, and not waiting for leave, he then
+mounted the pony, or, as he had more graphically described the process,
+“got across” him. That is, laying hold with both hands, he took a
+spring, and brought the pit of his stomach upon the saddle; then,
+wriggling forwards, got one leg over, dug his heels into Sancho’s side
+before he was well in his seat, and started off at a trot, his legs
+dangling, and the stirrups too. As he mounted and rode away, I noticed a
+hard, droll sort of leer, on the weather-beaten countenances of his
+comrades. Jones, it soon became apparent, was both the wag and the butt
+of the whole escort.
+
+The corporal, meanwhile, was receiving his instructions from Captain
+Rattler. “Fraser of the 42d?” said the captain. “Oh, very well. You will
+see to the whole party. We haven’t another corporal in the escort. Turn
+them out to-morrow in good time; and be sure to have them here by eight
+o’clock, when we load the mules.”
+
+While the captain and I were seated at our tea, Jones entered without
+knocking, twitched his forelock, and with a savage look made a plunge at
+my boots, and walked away with them. Jones, it was clear, had made up
+his mind to be my personal attendant, as long as I and he marched in
+company. That being the case, I here beg leave to give you his
+character,—though I fear it would not gain him admittance into your
+service.
+
+Jones went among his comrades by the name of Taffy, and certainly was
+not wronged by the legend, which says “Taffy was a thief.” Take a trait.
+On the march, he stole a Dutch cheese, sold it me for a dollar, and ate
+it himself. He was conversable, and couldn’t keep his own counsel: _e.
+g._ not satisfied with realising both dollar and cheese, he
+ostentatiously pleaded guilty to the original theft, walking by the side
+of my pony. Jones was no raw recruit:—had served in the Peninsula, if
+his word was to be trusted, through five successive campaigns; got his
+wound at Pampeluna, and was now returning from hospital to join his
+regiment. In active service, he had acquired all the good and bad
+qualities of an old campaigner; united with which were some of both
+sorts, that were properly his own. His oddities he did not attempt to
+hide, though they constantly exposed him to the jeers of his comrades.
+He was susceptible, touchy, testy—not quarrelsome. Felt ridicule very
+acutely; if laughed at, complained bitterly—expostulated—but was not to
+be laughed out of his own ways. He was somewhat undersized; a smart,
+wiry, hard-featured light-infantry man: had, to an excess, that wriggle
+in his gait, which was imparted to our foot-soldiers by the awkward set
+of their accoutrements—straightening their back, stretching their neck,
+fixing their head, projecting their chin, and throwing all the action,
+in walking, into their loins, thighs, and shoulders. His first
+appearance was by no means a letter of recommendation. He carried the
+gallows in his countenance,—in short, had that sort of look which helps
+to get “oudacious” boys a “larrupping;” desperate, dogged, abject, and
+impudent at the same time. He was capable of any sort of atrocity:—you
+might turn him by a word. Had a perpetual wolf—yet didn’t care much for
+eating, when he could get drink. Never refused a tumbler of wine—but
+preferred something short. His tact was considerable. He soon found out
+just what I disliked, and what I liked—accommodated his likings to mine.
+With a constant eye to self, was my intensely devoted humble servant.
+Never resisted—always gave up a point at once, when he couldn’t carry
+it—yet often contrived to have his own way. Much preferred riding to
+walking: seldom suffered a day to pass, without finding more than one
+opportunity to “get across” Sancho in the course of the march. If I was
+off, he was on. Took an amazing liking to “the pony,”—and sold his corn.
+Hated the French, but not so much as he hated our own horse-soldiers.
+Jones, often offended, was never saucy. Took a jobation as a matter of
+course. Looked savage at the moment; the next, was larking with the
+muleteers. The muleteers took to him amazingly. For endless neglects and
+trespasses, he had one plea, always ready—“Got a bullet in my leg, sir.”
+
+Next morning, just as we had done breakfast, Corporal Fraser entered to
+announce the men ready, the mules arrived, and all prepared for loading.
+The captain and I proceeded to the spot, and the loading commenced.
+Corporal Fraser made himself universally useful; I soon discovered that,
+in him, we had an acquisition. Leaving the superintendence, for a
+moment, to the captain and him, I stepped back to the billet, for the
+purpose of stowing, in my already overcharged portmanteau, a lot of
+loose dollars, part of my own ready cash, which I found a drag. Just as
+I had piled them on the table, to the number of forty, and was forcing
+them in amongst shirts, shaving materials, and portable dictionaries,
+who should enter but the captain? “Ah!” said he, “don’t trouble
+yourself; you haven’t room. You’ll ruin your things. Here; my
+portmanteau is open.” So saying, he laid hands on the dollars, counted
+thirty, and whipped them into his box. “Thirty,” said he—“there, they’ll
+go safe. Remember. Thirty.” It was done in the twinkling of an eye.
+“Rather cool,” thought I; “but of course it’s all right.”
+
+We returned together. A few of the soldiers were placed as sentries. The
+rest had piled their arms, and stood waiting about, ready to fall in and
+march when the mules were loaded. Something out of the usual course was
+evidently going on: the men were all on a broad grin. I walked into a
+sort of court-yard, and at once discovered the cause of the general
+mirth. On a money-box sat Jones, and before him stood a goat. “Purty
+creatur!” said Jones. “Purty thing—isn’t she, sir?” He held out a bit of
+biscuit. She playfully made a show of butting, advanced, and took
+it—“It’s mine, sir,” said he: “follows me about like a dog, sir.”
+
+“No wonder,” said I, “so long as the biscuit lasts.”
+
+“No, sir; ’tisn’t that, sir,” replied Jones. “It’s ’cause I speaks to
+her as goats understands, sir; same as we speaks to ’em in the
+Principality, sir. Only see, sir.”
+
+Jones then knelt down, put his nose close to nanny’s, and, with a
+coaxing voice and a most affectionate look, gave utterance to a few low
+guttural sounds, in a language to me unknown. Nanny rose on her hind
+legs, and again made play with her head; then, just as I expected to see
+Jones punched and prostrate, arched her neck gracefully on one side,
+descended on her fore-feet, stepped back, cut a caper, ran up to Jones
+again in a butting attitude, and, instead of knocking him over, put her
+nose close to his, and uttered a short bleat. “There, sir,” said Jones;
+“see that, sir?—understands me every word, sir.” It certainly did look
+very much as if nanny understood Welch.
+
+“Well, what did you say to her?”
+
+“Why, I said this, sir. ‘Nanny,’ says I, ‘we’re off directly instant,’
+says I; ‘and you must come along with us,’ says I; ‘and I’ll milk you
+morning and evening,’ says I. ‘And then the cappn, and this here
+hommerble jeddleham what’s present,’ says I, ‘won’t never not want milk
+for their tea,’ says I, ‘nor yet for their breakfast nayther,’ says I.”
+
+“Well, and what does nanny say?” asked I, almost laughing at this stroke
+of generalship.
+
+“Please, sir,” replied Jones, “she says she’s quite agreeable, sir; that
+is, if you are, sir. That’s what she says, sir.”
+
+“Oh, very well.” Had Jones and I been better acquainted, I might have
+felt it needful to ask first, how nanny had passed into his possession.
+
+“Thank yer honour,” said Jones, springing on his feet. “That’s jest the
+very thing as I was a-going to aast yer honour. Much obleeged to yer
+honour. Purty creatur! Nothing to her, a day’s march, sir. Won’t mind it
+the least in the world, sir. Come in quite fresh, sir.” As I was walking
+out of the yard, Jones ran after me,—“Please, sir, if the cappn makes
+any objections, when he siz nanny coming on along with us, sir, please
+just tell him she’s a nanny, sir; that is, I means to say, a femmel,
+sir, and giz milk, sir. Then he won’t have nothing to say against her,
+sir.”
+
+Nanny did actually accompany our march to headquarters; and not only
+gave us milk, regularly twice a-day, but on one occasion rendered us a
+far more important service. She became the pet of the men, and soon
+knocked up an acquaintance with the pony. Sancho and nanny travelled
+side by side; except that nanny’s line of march was now and then
+excursive; on which occasions the pony expressed his uneasiness by
+turning his head to look, with an impatient snort. Nanny was certainly
+not undeserving of Jones’s commendations of her beauty. Not one of that
+homebred race, of vulgar aspect, ungainly form, and short, coarse coat,
+so common both in this country and abroad—a race that lose all their
+sprightliness when they cease to be kids, and become full-grown
+goats;—in form she resembled the antelope; her step was that of goats
+that haunt the precipice, the pinnacle, and the glacier; elegance was in
+all her movements; and her hair, fine, flowing, and luxuriant—in colour
+a beautiful light orange-tawny, softening into an amber yellow, pale and
+delicate—with its snow-white fringe almost sweeping the ground. A dainty
+hussy, too, was Miss Nanny. She had her luxuries, and scorned to browse
+on common grass: culled her tidbits by the road-side, as she trotted
+along—a nibble here, and a nibble there; was partial to biscuit broken
+small, and wouldn’t refuse a crumb of cheese. Didn’t care for bread,
+except when she could steal it—her only vice—off the table before
+dinner; an object which she easily effected, by raising herself on her
+hind-legs. At the end of the march, as Jones had predicted, she always
+came in as fresh as she started; and proved it, wherever we were, by
+commencing an immediate perambulation of the house and premises, in
+search of anything she could pick up. This sometimes brought her into
+odd positions, and gave us trouble.
+
+Where are we? Oh, loading the money for our start from Oyarzun. Just as
+I was coming out of the court-yard, a soldier entered it, with a look of
+execration, muttering. Didn’t at all like appearances, when I got into
+the road. All the men looked sulky; the muleteers, perfectly vicious.
+The loading was going on, but without method, and not by any means with
+despatch. Of all the party, the only man that didn’t show ill blood was
+Corporal Fraser. He was doing his best, but looked serious, and somewhat
+nonplussed. The cause of all was soon apparent. The captain, for some
+reason or other, had worked himself into a perfect fury, to which he was
+giving expression in a regular stream of abuse and imprecations;
+discharging it indiscriminately on the muleteers and the escort, in
+Portuguese, Spanish, and English, as though he had rifled and ransacked
+the vocabularies for every bullying and blasphemous expression in the
+three languages. He had already got matters into a little bit of a
+mess—was ordering, counter-ordering—bothering the whole party out of
+their wits—in short, obstructing everything, and thereby indefinitely
+delaying our departure. This particularly enraged the muleteers: for you
+must know, first, they take the packing upon themselves, understand
+their business, and like to be let alone at it; secondly, they have a
+notion that nothing ruins their mules like keeping a beast standing,
+when once he has got his load on his back; and some of the first loaded
+were a couple of hours in this predicament, before we got off. We
+started at last, and passed through Oyarzun in no very military order:
+soldiers, mules, and muleteers, all jumbled together, like beef, pork,
+onions, and mutton-chops, in a Saturday’s pie. Fraser’s smartness saved
+us more than once from a jam, as we threaded the narrow street; and at
+length we emerged on the high road to St Jean de Luz.
+
+Although, in our transition to French from Spanish ground, we mounted
+not to the regions of perpetual snows, we did certainly pass over some
+very high ground, both before and after crossing the Bidassoa; and our
+second elevation gave us a splendid prospect of the fertile plains of
+France. “Shan’t want for nothing to eat, sir,” said Jones, “when we gits
+down there, sir. Shocking bad country, Spain, for poor soldiers, sir.
+Starvation country, I calls it, sir. Nothing but lean ration beef, as
+tough as hides, sir; and couldn’t always get that, sir. Dreadful hard
+work up these hills, sir. Got a bullet in my leg, sir.”
+
+Beyond Irun, we passed over an irregular eminence, which had been the
+scene of a sharp conflict with the enemy. Nothing, however, now
+indicated the field of combat, save a few dead horses, that lay
+scattered on the bare side of a hill. “What are those smaller animals,”
+said I to Jones, “lying about there, among the horses? Can’t be goats,
+can they?”
+
+“Thim’s dogs, sir,” said Jones. “They goes and gits a good blowout off
+the horses, sir; then they crawls a little way off, and lies down a bit,
+jest to choe the quid, sir; and then they goes back again, and takes
+another pull, sir. That’s jest how three or four on us did at Vittoria,
+sir, when we come upon the Frinch Ginneral’s dinner, sir, which he
+hadn’t time to stop and eat sir. Please sir, it’s not correct, what the
+men jeers me about the goats where I comes from, sir. Niver see’d nobody
+a-riding of a goat in the Principality, sir; nayther man, nor yet woman,
+sir; no, nor a babby nayther, sir; let alone a clergyman, sir.”
+
+Perhaps, my dear reader, as this is our first day on the road, I may as
+well give you here a description of our regular order of march; that is,
+so far as we marched in any order at all. We had eighty mules, then, in
+twenty strings, of four mules each. The muzzle of the second mule was
+connected with the _albarda_ (or pack-saddle) of the first, by a thong
+of leather. The third mule was attached to the second in like manner,
+and the fourth to the third. Each of these strings of mules had its own
+muleteer—twenty muleteers in all. The twenty were divided into two
+parties of ten; and over each of these ten was a sort of
+master-muleteer, called a Capataz. Of the four mules in each string,
+three carried money, and the fourth carried nothing but his _albarda_.
+We had thus twenty unloaded mules, and sixty charged with treasure: that
+is, fifty-eight with dollars, and two with doubloons. Now, as each mule
+carried two boxes, and each box contained two bags of a thousand, I
+think you will find, reckoning the dollar at only 4s. 6d. (the value at
+which it was issued to the troops,) and reckoning sixteen dollars to the
+doubloon, that we were marching to headquarters to the tune of
+eighty-one thousand pounds sterling. If, however, you prefer calculating
+the dollar at what it was then and there worth in buying bills on
+England—say from 6s. 6d. to 7s. 6d.—why then, of course, the value of
+our load comes to so much the more. What a catch for a Frenchman—one of
+our mules!
+
+Supposing us, then, to march in due order, the mules proceed in single
+file, each string of four attended by its own muleteer. Of the soldiers,
+some precede the line of march, others follow it, and others, again,
+march at intervals on the flanks: and so we walk on at mules’ pace,
+which is steady and uniform, convenient for marching, and gets over the
+ground at a very satisfactory rate; so that we cover our sixteen or
+twenty miles a-day with tolerable facility, going straight on from end
+to end. But we don’t always get on so pleasantly. If, not keeping the
+single file, one string of mules comes up abreast of that next in
+advance, then there is a thronging, which soon leads to confusion. Or if
+the load of one of your mules gets wrong, then there is a stoppage.
+Those in the rear come crowding up, and are brought to a halt; those in
+advance walk on. Thus a division takes place, your line is broken, and
+your cavalcade of mules (“bad English!”—It’s good Portuguese,) no longer
+kept well together as it ought to be, becomes extended over an undue
+length of road, and cannot be looked after and kept regular. Should you
+ever march with such a convoy, you will soon make the discovery that
+order, though excellent in theory, is not always reducible to practice.
+It won’t at all mend the matter, if you happen to have such a commander
+as ours was: a battered dandy of forty, a military _roué_, who carried
+in his countenance the marks of rough weather and hard drinking—for his
+face was not only bronzed by the elements, but pimpled with brandy—and
+whose continual language, all through the march from starting to
+halting, was just nothing but one stream of oaths, vituperations, and
+contradictory orders. And yet this same officer, I make no doubt, had we
+been placed in a position of real danger, would have conducted himself
+with coolness, energy, and judgment. As it was, he started us in
+confusion, and kept us in it all day. The muleteers, who set out in
+ill-temper, hadn’t one chance given them of recovering their amiability.
+The soldiers first walked along in dogged silence—then, finding what
+sort of a gentleman they had to deal with, began to take things easy,
+joked among themselves, talked loud, and, when he commanded them with an
+oath to hold their tongues, all but laughed in his face. Discipline was
+gone. One fellow, a Yorkshire lad, almost amused me with his provoking
+insolence. He was a red-faced chap with flaxen hair, white eyebrows, and
+a merry but malevolent eye;—could look, in a moment, either impudent or
+sedate—just kept himself steady under the captain’s immediate
+inspection; the moment it was off him, recommenced his antics—was clown,
+harlequin, and scaramouch, all in one—cut the double-shuffle, winked,
+twisted his mouth, broke out singing, and was dumb in a moment; cracked
+jokes, raised a roar, made believe to quarrel, kicked up every devisable
+sort of row. At length he deliberately disobeyed orders, and the captain
+put him under arrest; in other words, he was deprived of his musket.
+Whispered audibly, “It was just what he wanted; now one of the mules
+could shoulder arms”—set half-a-dozen fellows laughing. Yet this man
+afterwards, when we were differently commanded, was as well-conducted as
+any soldier of the escort.
+
+We at length reached St Jean de Luz, after a long, and, to me, very
+anxious march—the more so as it was my first. Towards our journey’s end,
+the question was uppermost in my thoughts, “Is it thus we are to march,
+when the road is insecure?” Marching as we did now, far from being
+prepared to meet Marshal Soult, I should have felt it far from agreeable
+to meet another distinguished commander that shall be nameless. There
+certainly were periods, during the day, when a few resolute assailants
+might easily have driven off part of our convoy, money and all; nay,
+when one or other of our own muleteers, had they been so disposed, might
+have slipped down one of the cross-roads with his string of mules, and
+made his escape among the hills. These uneasy reflections brought to my
+mind the advice given me at Passages by Mr Q—; and I resolved to wait on
+the commandant immediately on my arrival, in the hope of effecting some
+more satisfactory arrangement for our subsequent progress.
+
+We reached a large house assigned to our department on the outskirts of
+St Jean de Luz, stowed the treasure in safety under a guard, and
+dismissed the rest of the men to their quarters; Jones only excepted,
+who remained in charge of the pony. Captain Rattler took his leave, with
+a polite “_Au revoir._” Having seen the moneyboxes all right, secured
+accommodation for the mules and muleteers, and ascertained that dinner
+would be ready in half-an-hour, I stepped on at once to the
+commandant’s, and found him in his office.
+
+“I have waited on you, sir, to announce my arrival from Oyarzun, with a
+convoy of treasure for headquarters.”
+
+“Oh yes; Mr Y—, I presume. Mr Y—, pray take a chair. Happy to see you,
+Mr Y—, especially on such an occasion. If you arrive safe, I trust we
+shall all get a little of it; for it’s what we’re all in want of. Can I
+render you any assistance, Mr Y—?”
+
+“Should feel much obliged, sir, if you could increase the strength of
+our escort. For eighty mules, twenty men will hardly be sufficient.”
+
+“Why, no; certainly not, Mr Y—, if you don’t happen to find the country
+quiet. Well, what sort of an addition would you like to have?”
+
+“At Passages, sir, we had a guard of Germans; so steady and
+well-conducted, I should be very glad to have some more like them. As to
+number, I would leave that to you, sir.”
+
+“Sorry to say we have no Germans going up at present, Mr Y—.”
+
+“Well, sir, we have with us a Scotch corporal, decidedly the steadiest
+man in our party. Perhaps you could give me some Scotsmen.”
+
+“My dear sir, I’d go with you myself, if I could, with the greatest
+pleasure. Unfortunately, though, we have no Scotch regiment in the
+place. Suppose I could give you—say twenty or thirty men, heavy
+cavalry.”
+
+“Well, sir, I think cavalry, joined with our infantry, would be the best
+escort we could have.”
+
+“Very good, sir. Well, now you’ll want an officer to command them.”
+
+“Why, sir, the truth is, I wished to consult you on that subject. The
+present commander of our party is Captain Rattler.”
+
+“Your present? Say your late. He’s off.”
+
+“He was with me within the last half-hour, sir. Said nothing about
+leaving.”
+
+“Well, I don’t know anything about that. All I know is this—he was here
+just before you; got his route changed. By this time, I should think,
+he’s on his way to St Jean Pied de Port. Very well, Mr Y—. Load
+to-morrow, and start with your present escort. At what hour may I expect
+you to pass here, in your way through the town?”
+
+“Probably about ten o’clock, sir.”
+
+“Very well, Mr Y—. Then, to-morrow morning, by ten o’clock, I’ll have
+your additional escort here in readiness for you. As to the officer
+that’s to command the party, we’ll talk about that when we meet. Let me
+see. I hardly know how to settle it. At present, I have only one that’s
+going to join, and he’s young—your junior, I should say, by three or
+four years; has never seen service—a cornet, fresh from England. Well,
+if you can’t have another, you know, you must have him. Very well, Mr
+Y—; to-morrow morning, if you please, at ten o’clock.”
+
+I withdrew, satisfied with the result of my visit, not at all sorry to
+have got rid of the captain by his own act, and without any complaint on
+my part—a little surprised, however, at the precipitancy of his retreat,
+especially after his last words, “_Au revoir._” Suddenly a thought came
+plump—“My thirty dollars! The caitiff! he’s off, and I am once more a
+victim!”
+
+It didn’t turn out quite so bad as it looked, though. On my return to
+our office, I was met by Jones, who, with a face of famine, announced
+“dinner ready,” and handed me the following letter:—
+
+                                          “ST JEAN DE LUZ, _March 1814_.
+
+“Dear Sir—As unexpected circumstances have induced me to alter my route,
+I adopt this hurried method of wishing you a safe and pleasant journey
+to headquarters. It would have afforded me much gratification to
+accompany you, or at any rate to have said farewell in person. You will,
+however, I am sure, pardon the little omission, as I am compelled to
+start without delay.
+
+“I have thirty dollars belonging to you in my portmanteau. _They are_
+_safe._ I was about to forward them by the bearer of this, but, not
+feeling entire confidence in such a mode of conveyance, I beg to
+enclose you an order on England for the amount. Believe me to remain,
+dear sir, faithfully yours,
+
+                                                            “R. RATTLER.
+
+  “P.S.—Excuse haste.
+
+              G. Y—, Esq.,
+  Army Pay Department, St Jean de Luz.”
+
+
+“_Au revoir!_” Never, from that time forward, have I and the captain
+met. Sly rogue! His _modus operandi_, how dashing, yet how cool! To say
+nothing of his walking off with my dollars in his box, and thus securing
+a little hard cash at my expense, when cash was so scarce, how civilly
+he took leave of me at the door of our office! Thence he must have cut
+away direct to the commandant’s, resolved to be off forthwith—in plain
+English, to bolt! “Excuse haste!” And then in the morning, too, at
+Oyarzun, how smartly he whipped up my dollars, stowed them in his own
+portmanteau without asking my leave, and locked them up before my eyes.
+“_Au revoir!_” Yes; “_they are safe!_”
+
+Well, the less said about my dinner, that day, the better. In the course
+of the afternoon, though, Miss Nanny-goat thought fit to indulge herself
+in a bit of a spree. She walked, in search of varieties, into an old
+gentleman’s garden. Jones pursued—wanted to milk her for tea. The
+proprietor followed; I joined the chase. Nanny, for the fun of the
+thing, sprang on the wall, walked up the roof of the summer-house, ran
+along the ridge, pedestalled herself on the gable-end which rose in a
+peak, and there stood, looking down on us in defiance, her four little
+feet gathered up within the compass of a crown-piece. Jones called,
+coaxed, spoke Welsh, held out successively cabbage-leaf, lettuce-leaf,
+vine-leaf, all in vain. “Ah!” said the old Frenchman; and, toddling off
+to his geraniums, culled a scarlet cluster of aromatic flowers. That was
+irresistible. One jump brought Nanny down upon the wall, another landed
+her easy on the ground. Before you could say Jack Robinson, she was
+nibbling the nosegay out of the Frenchman’s hand. Next morning he loaded
+us, when we took leave, with a blushing bouquet of geraniums—shed tears,
+poor old gentleman, when Nanny departed—put his arms round her neck—a
+true Frenchman—and, _hi oculi viderunt_, kissed her.
+
+The morning after our arrival at St Jean de Luz, I rose betimes,
+breakfasted, and descended into the road to superintend the loading of
+the mules—a much more expeditious process without the captain’s aid than
+with it. We got off with the convoy in good time, and soon reached the
+commandant’s. In that part of the town the street widened into a sort of
+“place;” and there, drawn up and awaiting our arrival, I had the
+pleasure of discovering a party of dragoons, in number four-and-twenty.
+Being fresh from winter-quarters, they had turned out in capital order;
+presentable, as to dress and accoutrements, at a Windsor review; their
+horses, too, in good condition, though rather undersized for the men,
+none of them being English. At the door of the commandant’s office stood
+two horses, held by a groom, both of them serviceable, and rather showy
+animals, apparently recent arrivals from home. I alighted, and ascended
+to the office.
+
+“Punctual to your time,” said the commandant. “This, Mr Y—, is the
+officer who will command your party—the Hon. Mr Chesterfield.” Did the
+introduction in due form.
+
+In the military undress of his regiment—viz. cap with tassel and gold
+band, said cap hiding one side of the head and face, and leaving the
+other bare, long greatcoat, redundant in frogs, belt and sabre, enormous
+boots, and formidable spurs—I saw before me a youth of eighteen, slight
+in form, elegant in manner, who quietly returned my salutation, and,
+shortly after, walked down stairs and mounted. “I have explained to Mr
+C. the nature of the duty,” said the colonel. “He is quite fresh from
+England; but he seems to have no nonsense about him; and, at any rate, I
+trust you will find the change for the better. Well, Mr Y—, we mustn’t
+keep the mules standing; so I now wish you a pleasant journey.”
+
+“Thank you, sir. Much obliged to you for this arrangement. Good morning,
+sir.”
+
+It soon became apparent, as we proceeded on our march, that matters were
+greatly mended since the day before. Our new commander said little; but,
+young as he was, seemed to know what he was about; and all went on much
+to my satisfaction. He never interfered needlessly; and his directions,
+when given, were much to the purpose. Managed the cavalry himself, and
+the infantry through Corporal Fraser. Things began to grow right of
+their own accord, and a great load was taken off my mind. The men,
+finding they were now _commanded_, were orderly and well-conducted. Even
+our jolly Yorkshireman behaved himself—that is, with the exception of an
+occasional caper or grimace when he felt himself safe. Nothing more was
+said about his arrest. Consequently he had to carry his musket through
+the rest of the march; for, seeing what kind of a person he now had to
+deal with, he was too wise to try over again the game of the day before.
+The muleteers, too, recovered their good-humour. Muleteers are like live
+lobsters—very tractable, if you know how to handle them. The delays were
+now few. And though, with such a mixture of men and mules, we could not
+keep perfect order, if anything got wrong, it was soon set right.
+
+We reached at length that point in our march where a lane struck off to
+the left, from the high road which we were following, and which led
+direct to Bayonne. Our route, with official brevity, assigned Bayonne as
+our halting-place for the night. But as Bayonne happened just then to be
+occupied by the French, we proposed directing our course toward the
+headquarters of Sir John Hope, who commanded the besieging army. The
+aforesaid lane to the left soon brought us out on a heathy eminence,
+covered with fieldworks completed or in progress, and affording us a
+splendid view of the beleaguered city, of the river Adour, and of the
+bridge of boats thrown across it near the sea. Headquarters were at a
+small hamlet, on the right or opposite bank of the river.
+
+Yes, we saw that famous bridge. The Duke was always great in passing
+rivers. Witness his services in India. Witness the Douro, the Bidassoa,
+the Nivelle, the Nive, and now the Adour. Sufficient attention, perhaps,
+has not been directed to this subject. Take two feats out of the number,
+and view them together—the passage of the Adour, and the passage of the
+Bidassoa: both original ideas; both ideas that no mere tactician would
+have conceived or brought to bear; and both vindicating their claim to a
+distinguished record, by taking an able, gallant, and vigilant opponent
+by surprise. Who, but the Duke, would have dreamed of passing the
+Bidassoa at its mouth, without a bridge? Who, but the Duke, would have
+dreamed of passing the Adour at its mouth, by such a bridge as we now
+beheld? One thing is clear: _Soult_ did not dream of either one passage
+or the other. Obs. 1.—The execution, in each case, was off-hand,
+dashing, and daring. The preparation, in both, was deliberate, mature,
+and secret. Obs. 2.—The distinguishing excellence of the Duke’s strategy
+did not, however, consist in the mere exploit of throwing an army across
+a wide and rapid stream, in the face of an enemy assembled in
+force—though this, in itself, is among the most difficult operations of
+war; but in the combined, extensive, and successful movements which
+uniformly attended the achievement. In short, the subject claims a
+distinct volume. All the Duke’s passages of rivers, effected in the face
+of the enemy, should be brought into one view, and studied together.
+Such a work, properly executed, would merit a place in every military
+library. However, don’t think I’m going to inflict on you a detailed
+description of the oft-described bridge which we had now to pass.
+Suffice it to say, the bridge consisted of small vessels, moored side by
+side, all across the river. These vessels answered the purpose of piers;
+that is, they supported the gangway of planks, which formed the passage
+across.
+
+It may be deemed extraordinary, that this idea of floating piers has not
+been more generally adopted. But I suppose the real objection is an
+inconvenience, to which the method is unavoidably liable, and which we
+experienced on the present occasion, in passing with our mules and
+moneyboxes; namely, the variation of the bridge’s altitude, with the
+rise and fall of the water. This, in the Adour, at spring-tides, is
+fourteen feet. You must know, the river was now low. The consequence
+was, that the level of the bridge was considerably beneath the level of
+the banks on each side; while its two extremities were two boarded
+slopes, connecting the higher level with the lower. It was a ticklish
+business, passing these two slopes with our mules four in a string—one
+of them light, three loaded. In going _down_-hill, to get on the bridge,
+the mules managed admirably—let them alone for that. Seeing that this
+part of the process was proceeding satisfactorily, I left an injunction
+with Senhor Roque, the chief Capataz, not to send on the mules too
+fast—for this might have led to a jam, which would probably have
+consigned some of our boxes to the bottom of the Adour—and pushed on for
+the opposite bank, to be ready to superintend the ascent. This was the
+real bother, the going _up_-hill. In coming to the rise, which was
+somewhat abrupt, the first mule of the first string stumbled and fell.
+The muleteer got him on his legs again—his load happily not
+unshipped—and, taking him by the head, was about to lead him up. But
+this, it was clear, wouldn’t do. The beast had sense to see it wouldn’t,
+and declined moving. It might have answered very well for a single mule;
+but was no security for the ascent of the other three, that followed in
+the same category; and, unless all ascended together, we were undone.
+Under these circumstances, the leading mule, not choosing to compromise
+himself, refused the ascent. Meanwhile, the other strings of mules came
+crowding up; and we should soon have had them all of a heap, shouldering
+one another into the water. It was a nervous moment. I shouted to the
+muleteer, “_Anda para detraz, homem, e falla_”—(Old fellow, go behind,
+and speak to them.) “Si, si, Senhor,” said he, catching the idea at
+once, and promptly adopting it. The moment the mules heard, behind them,
+the well-known “_árre_” of their driver, they bolted simultaneously;
+and, scrambling up like cats, soon reached the summit of the slope, and
+stood on _terra firma_. Thus, though they could not have done it
+walking, they did it with a run. The other muleteers, as they came up in
+succession, adopted the same expedient each with his own team; and thus
+we effected the passage of the Adour, without either jam, crowding,
+confusion, or capsize.
+
+Before we go any further, though, I must let you into the use of that
+magical word “_árre_,” which, on the present occasion, effected so much
+in our favour. It is the word used by drivers to their beasts, to set
+them off, or increase their speed. Please to pronounce it with a
+lengthened rattling of the _r_—ár-r-r-r-r-r-r-re. Only remember this:
+pronounce it ever so correctly, you yourself can never do anything with
+it: for, if twenty persons sing out ár-r-r-r-r-r-r-re, neither horse,
+mule, nor donkey will move the faster, till they hear the
+ár-r-r-r-r-r-r-re of their own driver. This they distinguish among a
+hundred, and bolt forthwith. The knowledge of this singular fact in
+animal psychology tends greatly to enliven an Almada or Cintra
+donkey-party. Upon an occasion of this kind, my friend John G—, being
+the longest fellow of the party, thought fit to appropriate the tallest
+donkey. This was deemed a usurpation, and, as such, meriting
+castigation. A hint was therefore given to the driver of his (John’s)
+donkey. John was suffered to get one foot quietly into the stirrup; but,
+before he had got the other over the Albarda, ár-r-r-r-r-r-r-re was
+heard behind; away went the donkey through the village of Almada; and
+away went John, one hand holding by the Albarda, the other by an ear—one
+toe in the stirrup, the other now hopping along the ground, now
+describing circles aloft, in vain attempts to get across. John, how
+unjustly I need not say, imputes the Almada exhibition to my
+contrivance, and bides his time. Presently we enter a sandy lane—John
+warns me I shall be in the dust ere we get out of it—advises to take
+feet out of stirrups. Advice followed, in defiance. Again the cry is
+heard, ár-r-r-r-r-r-r-re; but now in a different key. This time, it is
+my driver. Donkey bolts—away we go—ár-r-r-r-r-r-r-re is heard once
+more—donkey can gallop no faster, so begins to kick. I stoop forward—hug
+him round the neck; both donkey and rider are soon rolling in the dust.
+“Now,” says John, as he trots exulting by, “you and I are quits.” “Yes,”
+says Frank Woodbridge, passing at a canter; “one Johnny has avenged the
+other.” _Mem._—As, in an English donkey-race, no one rides his own
+donkey, and the donkey last in wins; so, in those Almada donkey-parties,
+each paid another man’s driver, no man paid his own. That driver got
+most whose donkey spilt his rider oftenest.
+
+To proceed. All our party having passed the bridge, I was viewing with
+some satisfaction the train of mules, as they walked off from the river
+towards the hamlet, cheerily switching their tails—the animals’ usual
+practice after accomplishing any extraordinary _tour de force_—when I
+noticed, not far from the bridge-head, in a long military frock-coat,
+quietly eyeing me with folded arms, a stately officer of the engineers.
+Who, do you think?—who, but my fellow-passenger from England a year
+before, Captain Gabion? We exchanged greetings with mutual cordiality.
+
+“Much obliged to you, Mr Y—,” said he; “you have saved me some trouble.”
+
+“Happy to hear it, sir: don’t exactly understand how, though.”
+
+“Why, the fact is,” replied the Captain, “I was here waiting to see the
+convoy safe over—if needful, to render assistance. But really you got
+them so handily up the bank, I had no occasion to interfere. Famous
+plan, that, of sending them up with a run: shan’t soon forget it. That
+ár-r-r-r-r-r-r-re starts them capitally,—acts like a brad-awl.”
+
+“Were you not on the bridge just now, towards the other side of the
+river, sir?”
+
+“Yes, yes; but I saw you were getting them on well; so I came over to
+this end, to see how you would get them off.”
+
+“What I most feared,” said I, “was their crowding up, in passing the
+bridge.”
+
+“No, no,” said the captain, “no danger of that. Had I seen the least
+tendency to confusion, I should have passed a command by signal.
+Effectual means would then have been taken at once, to keep back those
+coming on, till those in front were clear. Well, what do you think of
+our bridge?”
+
+“I was thinking how I could destroy it—that is, if I was General
+Thouvenot, shut up in Bayonne with thirteen or fourteen thousand men.
+That’s what I began to think of, as soon as I saw it; and that’s what
+I’ve been thinking of ever since.”
+
+“Destroy it?” said the Captain; “destroy the bridge? Come, that’s a good
+one. Destroy it, indeed! I should like just to know, now, how you would
+go to work to do that. Why, Thouvenot did come down and attack, on our
+first arrival here; got well pounded, though. Don’t think it very
+probable he’ll try that again.”
+
+“Now, it’s too late, perhaps. Besides, he committed two great mistakes;
+he attacked with an insufficient force, and he came down only on one
+side of the river. If, instead, when the bridge was first thrown over,
+he had come down on both sides, and that with adequate—”
+
+“Going up with the treasure to headquarters, Mr Y—?”
+
+“That’s our destination, sir. This afternoon, though, we halt where we
+are.”
+
+“What, halt here?” said the Captain. “Let me look at your route.”
+
+“Our route says Bayonne, sir; but of course we came here.”
+
+“Yes, yes; very right; exactly; just so. Sorry to say, though, Mr Y—, I
+fear you’ll find no accommodation where you are. Every house, every
+cottage, every shed, is as full as it can cram. If it was only yourself,
+pony, and goat, I would give you accommodation most willingly. I sleep
+on a deal table. Would give you half with pleasure. But such a lot of
+you—about seventy bipeds, I guess, and more than a hundred
+quadrupeds—why, where could we put you all?”
+
+“Well, then,” said I, “we must make a bivouac of it, I suppose.”
+
+“Bivouac? Nonsense!—bivouac! How would those fine fellows stand a
+bivouac, I wonder, with their white gloves and horsehair plumes?
+Besides, it’s beginning to rain. Bet you a dollar, it rains all night.
+Besides that, where would you put your money? If General Thouvenot
+should take your advice, ‘come down on both sides,’ and find your boxes
+ranged along that bank by the road-side—and that’s the only place to put
+them I know of—a pretty catch he’d make of it. No, no, Mr Y—; your only
+plan is to go on. Follow the lane till it brings you back into the high
+road above Bayonne. You will then soon find a village, which will afford
+you accommodation for the night.”
+
+“Very well, sir. I suppose, then, the sooner we move the better. Will
+you have the goodness, though, to put me in the way of getting the men
+their rations?”
+
+“Oh yes,” said the Captain; “yes, yes: I’ll set all that straight for
+you, in no time. I see you’re rather a young campaigner; and the officer
+of your escort, I suspect, is younger still. You can’t stay here
+to-night, that’s certain. Better see the General, though, before you
+move on; just report yourself, you know, and hear what he says about it.
+Step on to his quarters, that small house with a white front, and I’ll
+be after you directly.”
+
+I turned to remount; but what had become of Sancho? Two minutes before,
+I held his bridle in my hand. Now, he was nowhere to be seen. At length,
+in the distance, I caught sight of Jones’ legs, dangling from the pony’s
+side, as he trotted off towards the houses, with Nanny cantering after
+him.
+
+
+
+
+                            THE GREEN HAND.
+                            A “SHORT” YARN.
+                                PART IX.
+
+
+“More than once that night,” resumed Captain Collins, “I woke up with a
+start, at thought of our late adventures in the river Nouries—fancying I
+was still waiting for the turn of tide to bring down the boats or the
+schooner, and had gone to sleep, when that horrible sound through the
+cabin skylight seemed full in my ears again. However, the weltering wash
+of the water under the ship’s timbers below one’s head was proof enough
+we were well to sea; and, being dog-tired, I turned over each time with
+a new gusto:—not to speak of the happy sort of feeling that ran all
+through me, I scarce knew why; though no doubt one might have dreamt
+plenty of delightful dreams without remembering them, more especially
+after such a perfect seventh heaven as I had found myself in for a
+moment or two, when Violet Hyde’s hand first touched mine, and when I
+carried her in after she had actually saved my life. The broad daylight
+through our quarter-gallery window roused me at last altogether; and on
+starting up I saw Tom Westwood half dressed, shaving himself by an inch
+or two of broken looking-glass in regular nautical style—that’s to say,
+watching for the rise of the ship—as she had the wind evidently on her
+opposite beam, and there appeared to be pretty much of a long swell
+afloat, with a breeze brisk enough to make her heel to it; while the
+clear horizon, seen shining through the port to north-westward, over the
+dark blue heave of water, showed it was far on in the morning. “Well,
+Ned,” said Westwood, turning round, “you seemed to be enjoying it, in
+spite of the warm work you must have had last night on board here! Why,
+I thought you had been with us in the boats, after all, till I found, by
+the good joke the cadets made of it, that that puppy of a mate had left
+you still locked up, on account of some fancy he had got into his head
+of your being in partnership with the schooner! For heaven’s sake,
+though, my dear fellow, wash your face and shave—you look fearfully
+suspicious just now!” “No wonder!” said I: and I gave him an account of
+the matter, leaving out most of what regarded the young lady; Westwood
+telling me, in his turn, so much about their boat expedition as I didn’t
+know before from the planter. Everything went to certify what I believed
+all along, ’till this sudden affair in the river. The schooner’s people
+had plainly some cue in keeping hold of our passengers, but hadn’t
+expected to see us so soon again, or perhaps at all—as was shown by
+their hailing the boats at once in a pretended friendly way, whenever
+they came in sight up the creek; while Ford and the rest shouted with
+delight, off her bulwarks, at sound of the mate’s voice.
+
+“I tell you what, Collins,” continued Westwood, “this may be all very
+well for _you_, who are continually getting into scrapes and out of
+them, and don’t seem to care much whether you ship on board an Indiaman
+or a corn-brig—you can always find something to do—but to me the service
+is _everything_!” “Well, well,” said I hastily, “I’m much mistaken if we
+don’t find something to do in India, Tom,—only wait, and that uncle of
+yours will make all right; for all we know, there may be news from
+Europe to meet us, and I must say I don’t like the notion of being born
+too late for turning out an admiral! I’m sure, for my part, I wish old
+Nap well out of that stone cage of his!” “No, no, Ned,” said Westwood,
+“I ought to clear myself at home first, and sorry I am that I gave in to
+you by leaving England, when I should have faced the consequences
+whatever they were. Running only made matters worse, Collins!” “No
+doubt,” I said; “and as it was my fault, why, deuce take me, Tom, if I
+don’t manage to carry you out scot-free! Depend on it, Captain
+Duncombe’s friends would have you strung up like a dog, with the
+interest he had, and sharp as discipline is just now.” Westwood
+shuddered at the thought. “I fear it would go hard with me, Ned,” said
+he, “and I shan’t deny that these few weeks have brought me back a taste
+for life. But, in spite of all, I’d deliver myself up to the first
+king’s ship we speak, or go home in some Indiaman from the Cape—but for
+one thing, Collins!” “Ah!” said I, “what’s that?” Westwood gave me a
+curious half look, and said—“One _person_, I mean, Ned—and I shouldn’t
+like _her_ to hear of me being—” “Yes, yes,” said I stiffly, “I know.”
+“It must have been by guess, then!” answered he. “Often as we’ve talked
+of her during the voyage, I thought you didn’t know we had met
+frequently in London before you came home, and—and—the fact is, I wasn’t
+sure you would like _me_ to—” “Westwood,” said I quickly, “Tom
+Westwood—what I have to ask is—do you love her?” “If ever a man loved a
+woman, Ned,” was his answer, “I do _her_; but if _you_—” “Have you any
+chance, then?” I broke out. “Ay, true—true enough, you have the best of
+chances—your way is as clear as could be, Westwood, if you knew it! Only
+I _must_ know if she is willing—does she—” “I got leave to write to her
+in London,” answered Westwood, “and I did so pretty often, you may be
+sure; but I only had one short little note in answer to the last, I
+think it was—which I had in my breast that morning on Southsea beach,
+when I expected the bullet would come through it!” Here Westwood stooped
+down to his trunk, and took out a rose-coloured note wrapped in a bit of
+paper; I standing the while fixed to the deck, not able to speak, till
+he was handing it to me. “No, no!” said I, turning from him angrily, and
+like to choke, “that’s too much, Mr Westwood—pray keep your own
+love-letters for your own reading!” “There’s nothing particular in it,
+Ned,” answered he, flushing a little, “only there’s a few words in it
+I’d like you to see—don’t look at it just now, but tell me afterwards
+what you think—you ought to see it, as the matter seems to depend on
+you, Ned; and if _you_ object, you may be sure, so far as I’m concerned,
+’tis all over!” Somehow or other, the look of the little folded piece of
+paper, with the touch and the scent of it, as Westwood slipped it into
+my hand, made it stick to me. I caught one glance of the address on the
+back, written as if fairy fingers had done it, and I suppose I slipped
+it into my coat as I went out of the berth, meaning to go aloft in the
+foretop and sicken over the thought at my leisure, of Violet Hyde’s
+having ever favoured another man so far, and that man Tom Westwood. The
+strangeness of the whole affair, as I took it, never once struck me; all
+that I minded was the wretched feeling I had in me, as I wished I could
+put the Atlantic betwixt me and them all; in fact a hundred things
+before we sailed, and during the passage, seemed all at once to agree
+with what I’d just heard; and I’d have given thousands that moment it
+had been some one else than Westwood, just that I might wait the voyage
+out coolly, for the satisfaction of meeting him at twelve paces the
+first morning ashore.
+
+On the larboard side of the berth-gangway, opposite our door, I saw the
+old planter’s standing half open, and Mr Rollock himself with his shirt
+and trousers on, taking in his boots. “Hallo, Collins, my boy,” he sang
+out eagerly, “come here a moment, I’ve got something to show you!”
+“Look,” said he, standing on tiptoe to see better through the half-port,
+“there’s something new been put in my picture-frame here overnight, I
+think—ha! ha!” The first thing that caught my eye, accordingly, was the
+gleam of a sail rising from over the swell to windward, far away off our
+larboard quarter; seemingly rolling before the south-easter; while the
+Indiaman hove her big side steadily out of water, with her head across
+the other’s course, and gave us a sight of the strange sail swinging to
+the fair wind, every time we rose on the surge. “What is it, eh?” said
+the planter turning to me, “back or face, Collins? for, bless me, if I
+can distinguish tub from bucket, with all this bobbing about—great deal
+of capital indigo wasted hereabouts, my dear fellow!” “Why, you may make
+out the two breasts of her royals,” said I—“a brig, I think, sir.” “Not
+that abominable schooner in her first shape again, I hope!” exclaimed
+he, “perhaps bringing back the Yankee.” “Too square-shouldered for that,
+Mr Rollock,” I said; “in fact she seems to be signalling us; yes, by
+Jove! there’s the long pennant at her fore-royal mast-head—she’s a brig
+of war. They’re surely asleep, on deck, and we shall have a shot
+directly, if they don’t look sharp!” “You’d better say nothing about the
+Yankee’s absence, Collins,” put in the planter, “till we’re fairly away.
+For my part, I really have no notion of waiting for any one—particularly
+a fellow who _must_ have some go-ahead scheme in his noddle, which we
+Indians don’t want. Quietly speaking, my dear fellow, I shall be glad if
+we’re rid of him!” On my mentioning what sort of “notions” were found in
+Mr Snout’s berth, and the drowning of his heathen images, the worthy
+planter went into perfect convulsions, till I thought I should have to
+slap him on the back to give him breath. “What the deuce!” said he at
+last; “Daniel must really have something worth his while to expect,
+before he’d fail to look after such a treasure!” “Ah,” said I, not
+attending to him, as I heard a stir on deck, “there we go at last,
+cluing up the topsails, I suppose.” “Seriously, now,” continued Mr
+Rollock, “I can _not_ fathom that vessel and her designs; but I bless my
+stars at getting clear off from the company of that tall Frenchman with
+his mustache—can’t bear a mustache, Collins—always reminds me of those
+cursed Mahrattas that burnt my factory once. Couldn’t the man shave like
+a Christian, I wonder? I defy you to enjoy Mulligatawny soup and not
+make a beast of yourself, with ever so much hair over your mouth. By the
+way, Collins,” added he, eyeing me, “since I saw you last, you’ve let
+your whiskers grow, and look more like one of your nauticals than Ford
+himself!—should scarce have known you! Any of it owing to the fair one
+up yonder, eh?” And the jolly old chap, whose own huge white whiskers
+gave him the cut of a royal Bengal tiger, pointed with his thumb over
+his shoulder towards the roundhouse above, with a wink of his funny
+round eye, that looked at you like a bird’s. “What do you suppose the
+Frenchman to be then, sir?” asked I, gloomily. “Oh, either a madman, a
+spy, or something worse! Just guess what he asked me suddenly one
+morning,—why, if I weren’t a distinguished _savant_, and wouldn’t like
+to study the botany of some island! ‘No, Monsieur, not at all,’ replied
+I, in fearfully bad French. ‘The geology, then?’ persisted he, with a
+curious gleam in his fierce black eyes—‘does the research of Monsieur
+lie in that direction?’ ‘Why no,’ I answered carelessly, ‘I don’t care a
+_sacre_ about stones, or anything of the kind, indeed; indigo is _my_
+particular line, which may be called botany, in a way—I’m perhaps
+prejudiced in favour of it, Monsieur!’ The Frenchman leant his tufted
+chin on his hand,” continued Mr Rollock, “meditated a bit, then glanced
+at me again, as if he didn’t care though I were studying sea-weed in the
+depths of the ocean rolling round us, and stalked down stairs. Then he
+took to Mrs Brady again, and lastly to the Yankee, whose conversations
+with him, I fancy, had a twang of both commerce and politics.” “What do
+you think of it all, Mr Rollock?” inquired I, rather listlessly. “It
+didn’t strike me at the time,” said the planter, “but now, I just ask
+you, Collins, if there ain’t a certain great personage studying geology
+at present in a certain island, not very far away, I suppose, where
+there’s plenty of it, and deuced little botany, too, I imagine?” To this
+question of the old gentleman’s I gave nothing but a half stupid sort of
+stare, thinking as I was at the same time of something else I cared more
+about.
+
+“By Jupiter! though,” cried I on a sudden, “instead of heaving the ship
+to, I do believe we’ve set topmast-stu’nsails, judging from the way she
+pitches into the water; there’s the brig nearing the wind a point or two
+in chase, too;—why, the fellow that has charge of the deck must be mad,
+sir!” Next minute the fire out of one of her bow-chasers flashed out
+behind the blue back of a swell, and the sudden _thud_ of it came
+rolling down to leeward over the space betwixt us, angrily, so to speak;
+as the brig’s fore-course mounted with a wave, the sun shining clear on
+the seams and reef-points, till you caught sight of the anchor hanging
+from one bow, and the men running in her lee stu’nsail-booms upon the
+yardarms. The planter and I went on deck at once, where we found a fine
+breeze blowing, far out of sight of land, the Indiaman rushing ahead
+stately enough; while our young fourth officer appeared to have just
+woke up, and the watch were still rubbing their eyes, as if every man
+had been “caulking it,” after last night’s work. Even Mr Finch, when he
+came hastily up, seemed rather doubtful what to do, till the salt old
+third-mate assured him the brig was a British sloop-of-war, as any one
+accustomed to reckoning sticks and canvass at sea could tell by this
+time; upon which our topsails were clued up, stu’nsails boom-ended, and
+the ship hove into the wind to wait for the brig.
+
+When the brig’s mainyard swung aback within fifty fathoms of our
+weather-quarter, hailing us as she brought to, I had plenty to think of,
+for my part. There she was, as square-countered and flat-breasted a
+ten-gun model as ever ran her nose under salt water, or turned the
+turtle in a Bahama squall; though pleasant enough she looked, dipping as
+we rose, and prancing up opposite us again with a curtsey, the brine
+dripping from her bright copper sheathing, the epaulets and gold bands
+glancing above her black bulwark, topped by the white hammock-cloth;
+marines in her waist, the men clustering forward to see us, and
+squinting sharp up at our top-hamper. It made one ashamed, to take in
+the taunt, lightsome set her spars had, tall and white, with a rake in
+them, and every rope running clean to its place; not a spot about her,
+hull or rig, but all English and ship-shape, to the very gather of her
+courses and top-gallant sails in the lines, and the snowy hollow her two
+broad topsails made for the wind, as they brought it in betwixt them to
+keep her steady on the spot. “His Britannic Majesty’s sloop Podargus!”
+came back in exchange for our mate’s answer; and though ’twas curious to
+me to think of meeting the uniform again in five minutes, I saw plainly
+this was one of the nice points that Westwood and I might have to
+weather. Your brig-cruisers are the very sharpest fellows alive, so far
+as regards boarding a merchant craft; if they find the least smell of a
+rat, they’ll overhaul your hold to the very dunnage about the keelson;
+and I knew that, if they made out Westwood, they’d be sure to have me
+too; so you may fancy that, during the short time her boat took to drop
+and pull under our quarter, I was making up my mind as to the course. In
+fact, I was almost resolved to leave the ship at any rate, feeling as I
+did after what I’d heard; but while most of the passengers were running
+about and calling below for their shoes, and what not, the Judge and his
+daughter came out of the roundhouse, and I caught a single glance from
+her for a moment, as she turned to look at the brig, that held me at the
+instant like an anchor in a strong tideway. I kept my breath as the
+lieutenant’s hand laid hold of the manrope at the head of the
+side-ladder, expecting his first question; while he swung himself
+actively on deck, looking round for a second, and followed by another;
+the wide-awake-looking young middy in the boat folding his arms, and
+squinting up sideways at the ladies with an air as knowing as if he’d
+lived fifty years in the world, instead of perhaps thirteen.
+
+The younger of the lieutenants took off his cap most politely, eyeing
+the fair passengers with as much respect as he gave cool indifference to
+the cadets; the other, who was a careful-like, working first luff, said
+directly to Mr Finch—“Well, sir, you seemed inclined to lead us a bit of
+a chase—but I don’t think,” added he, smiling from the Indiaman to the
+brig, “you’d have cost us much trouble after all!” Here Finch hurried
+out his explanation, in a half-sulky way, when the naval man cut him
+short by saying that “Captain Wallis desired to know” if we had touched
+at St Helena. “May I ask, sir,” went on the officer, finding we had
+preferred the Cape, “if _you_ command this vessel—or is the master not
+on deck—Captain—Captain Wilson, I think you said?” The mate said
+something in a lower voice, and the lieutenant bared his head more
+respectfully than before, seeing the Company’s ensign, which had been
+lowered half-apeak while the boat was under our side; after which Finch
+drew him to the capstan, telling him, as I guessed, the whole affair of
+the schooner, by way of a great exploit, with hints of her being a
+pirate or suchlike. The brig’s officer, however, was evidently too busy
+a man, and seemingly in too great a hurry to get back, for listening
+much to such a rigmarole, as he no doubt thought it; they had been at
+the Cape, and were bound for St Helena again, where she was one of the
+cruisers on guard; so that what with Finch’s story, and what with the
+crowd round the second lieutenant, all anxious to get the news, I saw it
+wouldn’t cost Westwood and me great pains to keep clear of notice. There
+were some riots in London, and three men hanged for a horrid murder, the
+Duke of Northumberland’s death, not to speak of a child born with two
+heads, or something—all since we left England. Then there was Lord
+Exmouth come home from Algiers, and Fort Hattrass, I think it was, taken
+in India, which made every cadet prick up his ears; Admiral Plampin was
+arrived at the Cape of Good Hope, too, in the Conqueror, seventy-four,
+and on his way steering for St Helena, to take Sir Pulteney Malcolm’s
+place. All of a sudden, I heard the young luff begin to mention a
+captain of a frigate’s having been shot two months ago, by his own first
+lieutenant, on Southsea Beach, and the lieutenant being supposed to have
+gone off in some outward-bound ship. “By the bye,” said the officer to
+Mr Rollock, “you must have left about that time—did you touch at
+Portsmouth?” “Why, yes,” answered the planter, “we did. What were the
+parties’ names?” I edged over to Westwood near the head of the
+companion, and whispered to him to go below to our berth, in case of
+their happening to attend to us more particularly; and the farther apart
+we two kept, the better, I thought. The officer at once gave Captain
+Duncombe’s name, but didn’t remember the other, on which he turned to
+his first lieutenant with, “I say, Mr Aldridge, d’you recollect the
+man’s name that shot the captain of the N’Oreste, as they called her?”
+“What, that bad business?” said the other; “no, Mr Moore, I really
+don’t—I hope he’s far enough off by this time!” My breath came again at
+this, for it had just come into my mind that Finch, who was close by,
+had got hold of the name, although he fancied it mine. I was sauntering
+down the stair, thinking how much may hang at times on a man’s good
+memory, when I heard the first lieutenant say, “By the bye, though, now
+I recollect, wasn’t it Westwood?” “Yes, yes, Westwood it was!” said the
+other; then came an exclamation from Finch, and shortly after he and the
+first lieutenant stepped down together, talking privately of the matter,
+I suppose; to the cuddy, where I had gone myself. The lieutenant looked
+up at me seriously once or twice, then went on deck, and a few minutes
+afterwards the brig’s boat was pulling towards her again, while the
+passengers flocked below to breakfast. I saw the thing was settled; the
+mate could scarce keep in his triumph, as he eyed me betwixt surprise
+and dislike, though rather more respectfully than before. As for
+Westwood, he sat down with the rest, quite ignorant of what had turned
+up; notwithstanding he threw an uneasy look or two through the cuddy
+port at the brig, still curveting to windward of us, with her mainyard
+aback: for my part, I made up my mind, in the meanwhile, to bear the
+brunt of it.
+
+’Twas no matter to me _now_ where I went; whereas, with Westwood, it was
+but a toss-up betwixt a rope and a prison, if they sent him back to
+England. No fear of _my_ being tried in his place, of course; but if
+there had been, why, to get away both from him and _her_, I’d have run
+the chance! There was a bitter sort of a pleasure, even, in the thought
+of taking one’s-self out of the way—to some purpose, too, if I saved a
+fellow like my old schoolmate from a court-martial sentence, and a man
+far worthier to win the heart of such a creature than myself; while the
+worst of it was, I was afraid I’d have come to hate Tom Westwood, if we
+had staid near each other much longer. Accordingly, I no sooner heard
+the dip of the gig’s oars coming alongside again, than one of the
+stewards brought me a quiet message from Mr Finch, that he wanted to see
+me on deck; upon which I rose off my chair just as quietly, and walked
+up the companion. The fact was—as the fellow could scarce have ventured
+to look his passengers in the face again after a low piece of work like
+this—’twas his cue to keep all underhand, and probably lay it to the
+score of my actions aboard, or something; however, he couldn’t throw any
+dust of the kind in the second lieutenant’s eyes, who gave him a cold
+glance as he stepped on deck, and, picking me out at once where I stood,
+inquired if I were the person. The first mate nodded, whereupon the
+brig’s officer walked towards me, with a gentlemanly enough bow, and, “I
+regret to have to state, sir,” said he, “that Captain Wallis desires to
+see you, _particularly_, aboard the brig.” “Indeed, sir,” answered I,
+showing very little surprise, I daresay, gloomy as I felt; “then the
+sooner the better, I suppose.” “Why, yes,” said the lieutenant,
+seemingly confused lest he should meet my eye, “we’re anxious to make
+use of this breeze, you—you know, sir.” “Hadn’t Mr Collins—this
+gentleman—better take his traps with him, Lieutenant Moore?” said Finch,
+free and easy wise. “No, sir,” said the young officer, sternly, “we can
+spare time to send for them, if necessary; of course you will keep the
+Indiaman in the wind, sir, till the brig squares her mainyard.” I gave
+Finch a single look of sheer contempt, and swung myself down by the
+manropes from the gangway into the boat; the lieutenant followed me, and
+next minute we were pulling for the brig’s quarter. The moment I found
+myself out of the Seringapatam, however, my heart nigh-hand failed me,
+more especially at sight of the quarter-gallery window I had seen the
+light from, on the smooth of the swell, that first night we got to sea.
+I even began to think if there weren’t some way of passing myself clear
+off, without hauling in Westwood; but it wouldn’t do. Before I well
+knew, we were on board, and the lieutenant showing me down the after
+hatchway to the captain’s cabin.
+
+The captain was sitting with one foot upon the carronade in his outer
+cabin, looking through the port at the heavy Indiaman, as she slued
+about and plunged in the blue surge, with all sorts of ugly ropes
+hanging from her bows, dirty pairs of trousers towing clear of the water
+when she lifted, and rusty stains at her hawse-holes. A stout-built,
+hard-featured man he was, with bushy black eyebrows, and grizzled black
+hair and whiskers, not to speak of a queer, anxious, uneasy look in the
+keen of his eyes when he turned to me. However, he got half up on my
+coming in, and I saw he was lame a little of one foot, while he
+overhauled me all over with his eye. “I’m sorry to have to send for you
+in this way, sir,” said he, rather surprised at my rig,
+apparently—“curst sorry, sir, and no more about it; but I can’t help it,
+confound me—_must_ do my duty.” “Certainly, sir,” I said. “In fact,”
+said Captain Wallis, “the Admiral ordered us to see after you—_him_,
+that’s to say—at the Cape, you know.” “Ay, ay, sir,” said I, watching
+the Indiaman’s poop-nettings through the port over his head, as he sat
+down. “Pooh, pooh,” continued he, “you can’t be the man—just say you
+don’t belong to the service—confound it, I’ll pass you!” “Why, sir,”
+said I, “I can’t exactly say _that_.” “I hear you’re Westwood of the
+Orestes, though,” said he; “now I don’t ask you to say _no_, sir—but
+everybody knew the Orestes, and I don’t like the thing, I must say—so
+perhaps you’re able to swear _he_ is not aboard the Indiaman—just now,
+you know, sir, _just now_, eh?” This tack of his rather dumfoundered me,
+seeing the captain of the brig meant it well; but deuced unlucky
+kindness it was, since I couldn’t swear to the very thing he fancied so
+safe, and his glance was as quick as lightning, so he caught the sense
+of my blank look in a moment; as I fancied, at least. “The fact is,
+sir,” added he, “the surgeon told me just now he knows Lieutenant
+Westwood well enough by sight, so they locked him up! You see we could
+have made you out at any rate, sir—however, we’ll let the doctor stay
+till we’re clear of the Indiaman, I think!” “Then you take me for the
+gentleman you speak of, Captain Wallis?” asked I faintly; for at the
+same moment I could see a light-coloured dress and a white ribbon
+fluttering on the Seringapatam’s poop, the look of which sent the blood
+about my heart. ’Twas hard to settle betwixt a feeling of the kind, and
+fear for Westwood; it struck me Captain Wallis wasn’t very eager in the
+affair, and ’twas on my lips to assure him I wasn’t the man. “Harkee,”
+broke in he, with almost a wink, and a smile ready to break out on his
+mouth, “the short and the long of it is, I’ll take _you_! We must have
+somebody to show in the case; though now I remember, there was some one
+else said to’ve gone off with you—but we won’t trouble _him_! If we’ve
+brought away the wrong man, why, hang it, so much the better! If you’re
+Westwood, I can tell you, they’ll run ye up to a yardarm, sir! Much more
+comfortable than ten years or so in a jail, too, as—as no one knows
+better than _I_ do myself.” Here the captain’s face darkened, his eye
+gleamed, and he rose with a limp to ring a hand-bell on the table.
+“White,” said he to the marine that put his head in at the door, with
+his hand up to it, “Desire the first lieutenant, from me, to send a boat
+aboard for this gentleman’s things.” “I’m afraid, sir,” continued he
+gravely to me, “you’ll have to reckon yourself under arrest,—but you’ll
+find the gentlemen in the gun-room good company, I hope, for a day or
+two, till we make St Helena.” I saw the captain’s mind was made up, and
+for the life of me I didn’t know what to say against it; but speak I
+could not, so with a stiff bow and a sick sort of a smile I turned out
+of the door, and walked along to the gun-room, which was empty. I could
+see the boat soon after under the ship’s side, dipping and rising as
+they handed down my couple of portmanteaus to the man-o’-war’s-men; the
+young reefer came down again as nimble as a monkey, with some letters in
+his hand, took off his cap to some ladies above, and sang out to give
+way; five or six flashing feathers of the oars in the sunlight, and they
+were coming round the brig’s stern. The brig was just squaring away her
+mainyard at the whistle from the boatswain’s mates, when the whole run
+of the Indiaman’s bulwarks was crowded with the passengers’ and men’s
+faces, watching the brig gather way to pass ahead; I could hear the
+officers on deck hail the India mates, wishing them a good voyage; the
+ladies bowing and waving their handkerchiefs to the British union-jack.
+Some sort of confusion seemed to get up, however, about the ship’s
+taffrail, where Rollock, Ford, and some others were standing together;
+the planter jumped up all at once on the quarter-mouldings nearest the
+brig, then jumped down again, and his straw hat could be seen hurrying
+toward the quarterdeck. Next I caught a bright glimpse of Violet Hyde’s
+face, as the sun shot on it free of the awnings—her eyes wandering with
+the brig’s motion, I fancied, along the deck above me; till suddenly she
+seemed to start, and Westwood appeared behind her. The next thing I saw
+was the black-faced figure-head of the Seringapatam rising below her
+bowsprit, about sixty yards from the gun-room port where I was, and down
+she went again with a heavy plash, as Tom Westwood himself leapt up
+between the knight-heads at the bow, hailing the brig’s deck with a
+voice like a trumpet, “Ahoy!—the Podargus ahoy!—for mercy’s sake heave
+to again, sir!” he sung out; “I’m the man you want!” “The Indiaman
+ahoy!” I heard Captain Wallis himself hail back, “what d’ye say?” The
+creak of our yards, with the flap of the jib, and the men’s feet,
+drowned Westwood’s second hail, as it came sharp up to windward; the
+sailors in the Indiaman’s bows were grinning at him behind, while the
+first lieutenant of the brig shouted gruffly that she had no time to
+wait for more letters; and I heard the gun-room steward say to the
+marine, on going out with the dirty breakfast cloth, he wondered if
+“that parson cove thought the Pedarkis vanted a chapling!” or was only
+“vun of these fellers that’s so troublesome to see the French Hemperor!”
+“Well,” said the marine, “’twas pretty queer if he took the Pedarkis for
+the ship to carry him there! I don’t think the captain would let a rat
+into the island, if he could help it!” “Not he,” said the steward;
+“plenty of ’em in already, Vite, my man—I do think they used to swim off
+on board here, by the way the cheese vent!” All this time I never
+stirred from the port, watching with my chin on the muzzle of the gun
+till the Indiaman was half a mile to windward of us, her big hull still
+rising and falling on the same swells, topped with clusters of heads;
+her topsails lowered in honour of the flag, the ensign blowing out
+half-mast high for the death of Captain Williamson: a long wash of the
+water ran outside the brig’s timbers, surge after surge, and the plunge
+at her bows showed how fast she began to run nor’-westward before the
+wind. You may well fancy my state, after all I’d done for weeks; in
+fact, one scarce knew the extent of what he’d felt, what he’d looked
+forward to, till he found himself fairly adrift from it: ’twould even
+have been nothing, after all, could I just have thought of Violet Hyde
+as I’d done two hours ago, on waking, with last night in the river on my
+mind. As it was, ’twould have taken little to make me jump out of the
+port into the sweep of blue water swelling toward the brig’s counter;
+the Seringapatam being by this time astern. I couldn’t even see her, or
+aught save the horizon, to windward; but at this moment the young second
+lieutenant came below, and, seeing me, he began in a polite enough way,
+with a kindly manner about it, trying to raise my spirits. “I suppose,
+sir,” said I, rather sulkily, I daresay, “I can have a berth just now?”
+“Oh, certainly,” said he, “the steward has orders to see to it at once.
+Will you come on deck a minute or two, in the meantime, sir?”
+
+I looked back from the ship astern to the brig-of-war’s clean white
+decks, flush fore and aft, with the men all forward at their stations,
+neatly dressed in regular man-o’-war style, every one alike—a sight that
+would have done me good at another time, small as she was by comparison;
+but the very thought of the Indiaman’s lumbering poop and galleries was
+too much for me—’twas as if you’d knocked out those two roundhouse doors
+of hers, and let in a gush of bare sky instead. The ship-shape
+man-o’-war cut of things was nothing, I fancied, to the snug spot under
+those top-gallant bulwarks of hers, and the breezy poop all a-flutter
+with muslin of an evening, where you found books and little basket
+affairs stuck into the coils of rope: I thought the old Seringapatam
+never looked so well, as she commenced trimming sail on a wind,
+beginning to go drive ahead, with a white foam at her bows, and her
+whole length broadside-on to us. All at once we saw her clue up courses
+and to’-gallant sails, till she was standing slowly off under the three
+topsails and jib; the two lieutenants couldn’t understand what she was
+about, and the captain put the glass to his eye, after which he said
+something to the second lieutenant, who went forward directly. The next
+thing I saw was the Indiaman coming up in the wind again for about a
+minute; she had her stern nearly to us, when the moment after, as she
+rose upon a long sea, you saw something flash white off her lee-gangway
+in the sunlight, that dropped against it into the hollow of a wave. The
+next minute she fell off again with her topsails full, and the first
+shower of spray was rising across her forefoot, when the flash of a gun
+broke out of her side, and the sound came down to us; then a second and
+a third. The brig gave her the same number in answer, and as soon as the
+smoke betwixt us had cleared away, the ship could be seen under full
+sail to the south-westward by west. “_That’s_ her poor skipper’s hammock
+dropped alongside, gentlemen!” said Captain Wallis to his officers; “God
+be with him!” “Amen!” said the first lieutenant, and we put our caps on
+again. “Set stu’nsails, Mr Aldridge,” said the captain, limping down the
+hatchway: as for me, I leant I don’t know how long over the brig’s
+taffrail, watching the ship’s canvass grow in one, through the width of
+air betwixt us; my heart full, as may be supposed, not to say what
+notions came into my head of what might happen to her under Finch’s
+charge, ere she reached Bombay. No one belonging to the brig spoke to
+me, out of kindness, no doubt; and the ship was hull-down on the
+horizon, to my fancy with somewhat of a figure like _hers_, when she
+stood with the Cashmere shawl over her head in the dusk. Then I went
+gloomily down to my berth, where I kept close by myself till I fell
+asleep, though the gun-room steward was sent more than once to ask me to
+join the officers.
+
+It wasn’t till the next day, in fact, when I went on the quarterdeck at
+noon, wearied for a fresher gulp of air, that I saw any of them; and the
+breeze having fallen lighter that morning, they were too busy trimming
+sail and humouring her to give me much notice. I must say I had seldom
+seen a commander seem more impatient about the sailing of his craft, in
+time of peace, than the captain of the Podargus appeared to be; walking
+the starboard side as fast as the halt in his gait would let him, and
+the anxious turn of his eyes plainer than before, while he looked from
+the brig’s spread of stu’nsails to the horizon, through the glass,
+which, I may say, he never once laid down. From where the brig spoke the
+Indiamen, to St Helena, would be about two or three days’ sail with a
+fair wind, at the ordinary strength of the south-east trade; though, at
+this rate, it might cost us twice the time. I noticed the men on the
+forecastle look to each other now and then knowingly, at some fresh sign
+of the captain’s impatience; and the second lieutenant told me in a low
+voice, with his head over the side near mine, Captain Wallis had been
+out of sorts ever since they lost sight of the island. “You’d suppose,
+sir,” said he, laughing, “that old Nap was his sweetheart, by the way he
+watches over him; and now, I fancy, he’s afraid St Helena may be sunk in
+blue water while we were away! In fact, Mr Westwood,” added he, “it
+looks devilish like as if it had come up from Davy Jones, all standing;
+so I don’t see why it shouldn’t go down to him again some day; I can
+tell you it’s tiresome work cruising to windward there, though, and we
+aren’t idle at all!” “Did you ever see the French Emperor yourself,
+sir?” asked I—for I must say the thought of nearing the prison such a
+man was in made me a little curious. “Never, sir, except at a mile’s
+distance,” said the second lieutenant; “indeed, it’s hard to get a pass,
+unless you know the governor. But I’ve a notion,” continued he, “the
+governor’s carefulness is nothing to our skipper’s! Indeed, they tell a
+queer story of how Sir Hudson Lowe was gulled for months together, when
+he was governor of Capri island, in the Mediterranean. As for the
+captain, again, you’d seek a long time ere you found a better
+seaman—he’s as wide awake, too, as Nelson himself—while the curious
+thing is, I believe, he never once clapped eyes on Bonaparte in his
+life! But good cause he has to hate him, you know, Mr Westwood!”
+“Indeed,” said I, taking a moment’s interest in the thing; and I was
+just going to ask the reason, when the first lieutenant came over to
+say. Captain Wallis would be glad if I would dine with him in the cabin.
+
+At dinner-time, accordingly, I put on a coat, for the first time, less
+like those the cadets in the Seringapatam wore, and went aft, where I
+found the first lieutenant and a midshipman with the captain. He did his
+best to soften my case, as I saw by his whole manner during dinner;
+after which, no sooner had the reefer had his one glass of wine, than he
+was sent on deck to look out to windward. “Well, sir,” said Captain
+Wallis thereupon, turning from his first luff to me, “I’m sorry for this
+disagreeable business! I believe you deny being the person at all,
+though?” “Why, sir,” said I, “I am certainly no more the first
+lieutenant of the Orestes than yourself, Captain Wallis! ’Twas all owing
+to a mistake of that India mate, who owed me a grudge.” “Oh, oh, I see!”
+replied he, beginning to smile, “the whole matter’s as plain as a
+handspike, Mr Aldridge! But I couldn’t do less, on the information!”
+“However, sir,” put in the first lieutenant, “there’s no doubt the real
+man must have been in the ship, or the mistake could not have happened,
+sir!” “Well—you look at things too square, Aldridge,” said the captain.
+“All _you_’ve got to do, I hope, sir, is just to prove you’re not
+Westwood; and if you want still to go out to the East Indies, why, I
+daresay you won’t be long of finding some outward-bound ship or other
+off James Town. Only, I’d advise you, sir, to have your case over with
+Sir Pulteney, before Admiral Plampin comes in—as I fear he would send
+you to England.” “It matters little to me, sir,” I answered; “seeing the
+reason I had for going out happens to be done with.” Here I couldn’t
+help the blood rising in my face; while Captain Wallis’s steady eye
+turned off me, and I heard him say in a lower key to the lieutenant, he
+didn’t think it was a matter for a court-martial at all. “Pooh,
+Aldridge!” said he, “some pretty girl amongst the passengers in the
+case, I wager!” “Why,” returned Aldridge, carelessly, “I heard Mr Moore
+say some of the ladies were pretty enough, especially one—some India
+judge or other’s young daughter—I believe he was in raptures about,
+sir.” This sort of thing, as you may suppose, was like touching one on
+the raw with a marlin-spike; when the captain asked me, partly to smooth
+it over, maybe,—“By the bye, sir, Mr Aldridge tells me there was
+something about a pirate schooner, or slaver, or some craft of the kind,
+that frightened your mates—that’s all stuff, I daresay—but what I want
+to know is, in what quarter you lost sight of her, if you recollect?”
+“About nor’west by north from where we were at the time, sir,” said I.
+“A fast-looking craft was she?” asked he. “A thorough-built smooth-going
+clipper, if ever there was one,” I said. At this the captain mused for a
+little, till at last he said to his lieutenant—“They daren’t risk it; I
+don’t think there’s the Frenchman born, man enough to try such a thing
+by water, Aldridge?” “Help _him_ out, you mean, sir?” said the luff;
+“why, if he ever got as far as the water’s edge, I’d believe in
+witchcraft, sir!” “Give a man time, Mr Aldridge,” answered the captain,
+“and he’ll get out of anything where soldiers are concerned—every year
+he’s boxed up, sharpens him till his very mind turns like a knife, man!
+It makes one mad on every point beside, I tell you, sir—whereas after
+he’s free, perhaps, it’s just on _that only_ his brain has a twist in
+it!” “No doubt, Captain Wallis,” said Aldridge, glancing over to me, as
+his commander got up and began walking about the cabin, spite of his
+halt. “D’ye know,” continued he, “I’ve thought at times what I should
+like best would be to have _him_ ahead of the brig, in some craft or
+other, and we hard in chase—I’d go after that man to the North Pole,
+sir, and bring him back! Without once going aboard to know he was there,
+I’d send word it was Jack Wallis had him in tow!” “What is Bonaparte
+like, then, after all, sir?” I asked, just to fill up the break. “I
+never saw him, nor he me,” replied Captain Wallis, stopping in his walk,
+“but every day he may have a sight of the brig cruising to windward; and
+as for the island, we see plenty of _it_, I think, Aldridge?” “Ay, ay,
+sir,” said Aldridge, “that we do! For my part, I can’t get the ugly
+stone steeples of it out of my head!” “Well,” continued the captain, “at
+times, when we’re beating round St Helena of a night, I’ll be hanged if
+I haven’t thought it began to loom as if the French Emperor stood on the
+top of it, like a shadow looking out to sea the other way,—and I’ve gone
+below lest he’d turn round till I saw his face. I’ve a notion, Mr
+Aldridge, if I once saw his face I’d lose what I feel against him,—just
+as I used always to fancy, the first five years in the _Temple_, if he
+were only to see _me_, he would let me out! But they say he’s got a
+wonderful way of coming over every one, if he likes!” After this,
+Captain Wallis sat down and passed the decanters, the first lieutenant
+observing he supposed Bonaparte was a great man in his way, but nothing
+to Nelson. “Don’t tack them together, Aldridge!” said his commander,
+quickly; “Nelson was a man all over,—he’d got the feelings of a man, and
+his faults—but I call _him_, yonder, a perfect demon let loose upon the
+world! To my mind all the blood those republicans shed, with their
+murdered king’s at bottom of it, got somehow into him, till he thought
+no more of human beings, or aught concerning ’em, than I do of so many
+cockroaches! But the terrible thing was, sir, his infernal schemes, and
+his cunning—why, he’d twist you one country against another, and get
+hold of both, like a man bending stun-sail halliards—there were men grew
+up round him quick as mushrooms, fit to carry out everything he wanted;
+so one could’nt wonder at him enough, Mr Aldridge, if it was only
+natural! I can’t tell you anything like what I felt,” he went on, “when
+I was in Sir Sidney Smith’s ship, cruising down Channel, and we used to
+see the gunboats and flat-bottoms he got together for crossing the
+straits—or one night, with poor Captain Wright, that we stood in near
+enough to get a shot sent at us off the heights—the whole shore about
+Boulogne was one twinkle of lights and camp-fires, and you heard the
+sound of the hammers on planks and iron, with the carts and
+gun-carriages creaking—not to speak of a hum from soldiers enough, you’d
+have thought, to eat old England up! And where are they now?” “I don’t
+know, sir, indeed,” said the first lieutenant gravely, supposing by the
+captain’s look, no doubt, that it was a question. “What, Captain
+Wallis!” exclaimed I, “were you with Captain Wright, then, sir?” Of
+course, like every one in the service, I had heard Captain Wright’s
+story often, with ever so many versions; there was a mystery about his
+sad fate that made me curious to hear more, of what gave the whole navy,
+I may say, a hatred to Bonaparte not at all the same you regard a fair
+enemy with.
+
+“_With_ him, say you, sir?” repeated the captain of the Podargus, “ay
+was I! I was his first lieutenant, and good cause I had to feel for the
+end he came to,—as I’ll let you hear. One night Captain Wright went
+ashore, as he’d often done, into the town of Beville, dressed like a
+smuggler; for the fact was the French winked at the smuggling, only I
+must say _we_ used to land men instead of goods. I didn’t like the thing
+that night, and advised him not to go, as they’d begun to suspect
+something of late; however, the captain by that time was foolhardy,
+owing to having run so many risks, and he was bent on going in before we
+left the coast; though, after all, I believe it was only to get a letter
+that any fisherman could have brought off. The boat was lying off and on
+behind a rocky point, and we waited and waited, hearing nothing but the
+sound of the tide making about the big weedy stones, in the shadow from
+the lights of the town; when at last the French landlord of the little
+tavern he put up at, came down upon the shingle and whistled to us. He
+gave me a message from Captain Wright, with the private word we had
+between us, saying he wanted me to come up to the town on a particular
+business. Accordingly, I told the men to shove out again, and away I
+went with the fellow. No sooner did I open the door of the room,
+however, than three or four gens-d’-armes had hold of me, and I was a
+prisoner: as for Captain Weight, I never saw him more. The morning broke
+as they brought me up on horseback in the middle of them, along the road
+to Paris, from whence I could make out the cutter heeling to the breeze
+a mile or two off the land, with two or three gunboats hard in chase.”
+
+“Well, sir, at Paris they clapped me into a long gloomy-like piece of
+mason-work called the Temple, close alongside of the river, where plenty
+of our countrymen were; Captain Wright and Sir Sidney Smith himself
+among the rest, as I found out afterwards. The treatment wasn’t so bad
+at first; but when you climbed up to the windows, there was nothing to
+be seen but the top of a wall, and roofs of houses all round, save where
+you’d a glimpse of the dirty river and some pig-trough of a boat. One
+day I got a letter from Captain Wright—how they let me have it I don’t
+well know—saying he was allowed a good deal of comfort in the mean time,
+but he suspected some devilish scheme in it, to make him betray the
+British government, or something of the kind; that he’d heard one of the
+French royalist generals had choked himself in his prison, but never to
+believe he’d do the same thing, though every night he woke up thinking
+he heard the key turn in the door. The next thing I heard of was that
+Captain Wright had made away with himself, sir!” Here Captain Wallis got
+up again, walking across the cabin, seemingly much moved. “Well, after
+that I slept with the dinner-knife in my breast, till the jailer took it
+away; for I thought at the time that poor Wright had been murdered,
+though I found cause to change my mind when I knew what loneliness does
+with a man, not to speak of the notion being put before him to take his
+own life. For a while, too, Captain Shaw was in the same cell; by which
+time we had such bad food, and so little of it, that one day when a
+pigeon lighted on the window, which used to come there for a crumb or
+two every afternoon, right along with the gold gleam of the sun as it
+shot over the dark houses to that window—I jumped up and caught it. Shaw
+and I actually tore it in bits, and eat it raw on the spot; though ’twas
+long ere I could get rid of the notion of the poor bird fluttering and
+cooing against the bars, and looking at me with its round little soft
+eye as it pecked off the slab. But what was that to the thought of my
+old father that had hurt himself to keep me in the navy, and me able,
+now, to make his last days comfortable—or the innocent young girl I had
+married the moment I got my commission of first lieutenant, expecting to
+be flush of prize-money! It even came into my head often, when I sat by
+myself in the cell they afterwards put me into, alone,—how that little
+blue pigeon might have carried a letter to England for me—at any rate it
+was the only thing like a chance, or a friend, I ever saw the whole time
+I was there,—and foolish as the notion may look, why the window was too
+high in a smooth wall, for me once to reach it. I heard all Paris
+humming round the thick of the stone, every day, and sometimes the sound
+of thousands of soldiers tramping past below, over the next bridge, with
+music and suchlike—no doubt when the First Consul, as they called him,
+went off to some campaign or other: then I’d dream I felt the deck under
+me in a fresh breeze at night, till the soul sickened in me to wake up
+and find the stones as still as before, and now and then hear the
+sentries challenging on their rounds.
+
+“Well, one day a fellow in a cloak, with a slouch hat over his forehead,
+was let in to try, as I thought, if there was anything to be got out of
+me, as they tried two or three times at first; some spy he was,
+belonging to that police devil, Fouché. What did he offer me, d’ye
+think, after beating about the bush for half an hour, but the command of
+a French seventy-four under the Emperor, as he was by that time, and, if
+I would take it, I was free! On this I pretended to be thinking of it,
+when the police-fellow sidled near me, to show a commission signed with
+the Emperor’s name at the foot.
+
+“In place of taking hold of it, however, I jumped up and seized the
+villain’s nose and chin before he saw my purpose, stuffed the parchment
+into his mouth by way of a gag, and made him dance round the cell, with
+his cloak over his head and his sword dangling alongside of him, to keep
+his stern clear of my foot; till the turnkey heard the noise, and he
+made bolt out as soon as the door was opened. You’d wonder how long that
+small matter served me to laugh over, for my spirit wasn’t broken yet,
+you see; but even then, in the very midst of it, I would all of a sudden
+turn sick at heart, and sit wondering when the exchange of prisoners
+would be made, that I looked for. The worst of it was, at times a horrid
+notion would come into my head of the French seventy-four being at sea
+at the moment, and me almost wishing they’d give me the offer over
+again—I fancied I felt the very creak of her, straining in the trough of
+a sea, and saw the canvass of her topsails over me, standing on her poop
+with a glass in my hand,—till she rose on a crest, and there were the
+Agamemnon’s lighted ports bearing down to leeward upon us, till I heard
+Nelson’s terrible voice sing out, “Give it to ’em, my lads!” when the
+flash of her broadside showed me his white face under the cocked hat,
+and it came whizzing over like a thirty-two pound shot right into my
+breast, as I sunk to the bottom, and found myself awake in the prison.
+
+“I don’t know how long it was after, but they moved me to another berth,
+where a man had shot himself through the head, for we actually met his
+body being carried along the passage; and more than that, sir, they
+hadn’t taken the trouble to wash his brains off the wall they were
+scattered on! There I sat one day after another, watching the spot
+marked by them turn dry, guessing at everything that had gone through
+them as long as he was alive in the place, till my own got perfectly
+stupid; I was as helpless as a child, and used to cry at other times
+when the jailer didn’t bring me my food in time. I fancied they’d forget
+all about me in England; and as for time, I never counted it, except by
+the notion I had been two or three years in. At last the turnkey got so
+used to me, thinking me no doubt such a harmless sort of a poor man,
+that he would sit by and talk to me, giving accounts of the Emperor’s
+battles and victories, and such matters. I must say I began to feel as
+if he was some sort of a God upon earth there was no use to strive
+against, just as the turnkey seemed to do, more especially when I heard
+of Nelson’s death; so when he told me, one time, it wouldn’t do for
+Fouché or the Emperor to let me out yet, I said nothing more. “Will the
+Emperor not let me out _now_?” asked I, a long time after. “Diable!”
+said the man, “do you think his Majesty has time to think of such a poor
+fellow as you, amongst such great matters? No, no, pauvr’ homme!”
+continued he; “you’re comfortable here, and wouldn’t know what to do if
+you were out! No fear of your doing as your Capitaine _Ourite_ did,
+since you’ve lived here so long, monsieur!” “How long is it, now, good
+Pierre?” asked I, with a sigh, as he was going out at the door; and the
+turnkey counted on his fingers. “Ulm—Austerlitz—Jena,” said he slowly;
+“oui, oui—I scarcely thought it so much—it wants only six or seven
+months of ten years!” and he shut to the door. I sprang up off the bed I
+was sitting on, wild at the thought—I may say, for a day or two I was
+mad—ten years! ten years!—and all this time where was my poor innocent
+Mary, and the child she expected to bear, when I left Exeter—where was
+my old father? But I couldn’t bear to dwell on it. Yes, Aldridge, by the
+God above, they had kept me actually _ten years_ there, in that cursed
+Temple, while _he_ was going on all the time with his victories, and his
+shows, and his high-flown bulletins! Yet he wasn’t too high, it seems,
+to stoop to give out, through his tools, how Wright and I had both
+killed ourselves for fear of bringing in the British government—nor to
+offer me a seventy-four in a dungeon—_me_, a man used to wind and water,
+that loved a breeze at sea like life! ’Twas the very devil’s temptation,
+sir; but I’ll tell you what, both Captain Wright and myself had been
+with Sir Sidney Smith at Acre, when _he_ was baffled for the first time
+in his days—_that_ was the thing, I believe from my soul, that he hated
+us for! _I_ had a right to be exchanged ten times over, though he might
+have called Wright a spy; but what was my poor wife and her newborn
+baby, or my old father’s grey hairs, to _him_, and his damnable ambition
+to make everything his own—and when the very thought of me in my hole at
+the Temple would strike him in the midst of his victories, where he
+hadn’t time, forsooth, to trouble himself about a poor man like me! The
+fact was, I could tell how he offered a British seaman, that had had a
+finger in nettling him, the command of one of his seventy-fours, which
+he had nobody fit to manage—and that in a prison where I’d be glad even
+of fresh air!
+
+“’Twas then, in fact, the purpose rose firmer and firmer in me, out of
+the fury that was like to drive me mad, how I’d get out of his clutches,
+and spend my life against the very pitch of his power I knew so well
+about. Till that time I used to look through the bars of the window at
+the Seine, without ever fancying escape, low down as it was, compared
+with my last cell. There was a mark in the stone floor with my walking
+back and forward, since they put me in; and by this time I had the
+cunning of a beast, let alone its strength, in regard of anything I took
+into my head: often I used to think I saw the end of my finger, or the
+corner of a stone, more like the way a fly sees them, than a man. The
+turnkey, Pierre, would never let me have a knife to eat my food with,
+lest I should do as he said all we English were apt to do—kill
+myself—which, by the way, is a lie; and I think that fiend of an Emperor
+yonder must have taught them to blame us with their own crime! However,
+latterly he let me have a fork for half an hour at dinner; and for a
+quarter of an hour every day, except those when he staid to talk to me
+as I ate it, did I climb up and work with that fork at the top and
+bottom of one of the window-bars, taking care not to break the fork, and
+jumping down, always, in time to finish the meal. It took me four whole
+months, sir, to loosen them! Such deadly fear as I was in, too, lest
+he’d find it out, or lest they moved me to another cell—you’d have
+thought I was fond of the walls round the place, where hundreds of men
+before me had scrawled their last words; and the one that shot himself
+had written, “_Liberté—anéantissement!_ Liberty—annihilation!” just over
+where the spatter of his brains had stuck when he laid his head to the
+spot! If Pierre had noticed what I’d been about, my mind was made up to
+kill him, and then make the trial before they missed him; but _that_ I
+had a horror of, after all, seeing the man had taken a sort of liking to
+me, and I knew he had a wife.
+
+“Well, at last, one day I had the thing finished; when midnight came I
+trembled like a leaf, till I began to fear I couldn’t carry it through:
+I tore my shirt and the blanket in strips, to twist into a line, got out
+the bar by main force, squeezed through, and let myself down. The line
+was just long enough to let me swing against the cold wall, over a
+sentry’s head going round the parapet below; as soon as he was past I
+dropped on the edge of the wall, and fell along it, my fingers scraping
+the smooth stone to no purpose, till I was sliding off into the dark,
+with the river I didn’t know how far below me, though I heard it lapping
+against some boats at the other side. For a few moments I was quite
+senseless, from the fall into the water; the splash roused the
+sentinels, and three or four bullets whizzed into it about me, as I
+struck out for the shore. Still the night was thick enough to help me
+clear off among the dark lanes in the city;—and the upshot of it was,
+that I found out some royalists, who supplied me with a pedlar’s dress;
+till, in the end, after I can’t tell you how many ticklish chances,
+where my luck hung upon a hair, I reached the coast, and was taken off
+to a British frigate. At home, sir—at home, I found I’d been given up
+long ago for a dead man in Bonaparte’s prisons, and—and—the old man had
+been buried seven years, Aldridge—but not so long as my—wife. The news
+of my taking my own life in the Temple saved her the rest—’twas too much
+for her at the time, Aldridge—both she and her little one had lain in
+the mould nine years, when I stood looking at the grass under Exeter
+Cathedral! I was a young man almost, still; but my hair was as grizzled
+when I got out of the Temple in 1813, as you see it now, and I’ll never
+walk the deck fairly again. Aldridge,” added the captain of the
+Podargus, turning round and standing still, with a low sort of a deep
+whisper, “’tis a strange thing, the Almighty’s way of working—but I
+never thought—in the Temple yonder, longing for a heave of the water
+under me—I little thought John Wallis would ever come to keep guard over
+his Majesty, the Emperor Napoleon!”
+
+When Captain Wallis stopped, the long send of the sea lifting the brig
+below us, with a wild, yearning kind of ripple from her bows back to her
+counter, and weltering away astern,—one felt it, I may say, somewhat
+like an answer to him, for the breeze had begun to freshen: it had got
+all of a sudden nearly quite dark, too, as is the case inside the
+tropics, without the moon. “Let’s go on deck, gentlemen,” said the
+captain, coming to himself; “now clap on those other topmost stuns’ls,
+Mr Aldridge, and make her walk, sir!” “No saying,” I heard him mutter,
+as he let us go up before him—“no saying what the want of the Podargus
+might do, off the island, these dark nights—with water alongside, one
+can’t be sure—I warrant me if _that man’s_ dreams came true, as mine
+did, he would be at the head of his thousands again, ruining the whole
+world, with men rotting out of sight in dungeons while the wind blows!
+Ay, dreams, young gentleman!” said he to me as we stood on deck; “I’ll
+never get rid of that prison, in my head, nor the way that dead man’s
+brain seemed to come into mine, off the wall! But for my part, off St
+Helena, ’tis Napoleon Bonaparte’s dreams that enter into my head. If
+you’ll believe it, sir, I’ve _heard_ them as it were creeping and
+tingling round the black heights of the island at dead of night, like
+men in millions ready to break out in war music, as I used to hear them
+go over the bridge near the Temple—or in shrieks and groans; we all the
+time forging slowly ahead, and the surf breaking in at the foot of the
+rocks. I know then, _who’s_ asleep at the time up in Longwood!”
+
+The brig-of-war was taking long sweeps and plunges before the wind; the
+Southern Cross right away on her larboard quarter, and the very same
+stars spread all out aloft, that I’d watched a couple of nights before,
+close by Violet Hyde. The whole of what I’d just heard was nothing to me
+in a single minute, matched with the notion of never seeing her more.
+Everything I’d thought of since we left England was gone, even one’s
+heart for the service; and what to do now, I didn’t know. I scarce
+noticed it commence to rain, till a bit of a squall had come on, and
+they were hauling down stu’nsails; the dark swells only to be seen
+rising with the foam on them, and a heavier cover of dull cloud risen
+off the brig’s beam, as well as ahead; so that you merely saw her
+canvass lift before you against the thick of the sky, and dive into it
+again. ’Twas just cleared pretty bright off the stars astern of us,
+however, wind rather lighter than before the squall, when the captain
+thought he made out a sail near about the starboard beam, where the
+clouds came on the water-line; a minute or two after she was plain
+enough in the clear, though looming nearly end-on, so that one couldn’t
+well know her rig. Thinking at first sight it might be the schooner,
+Captain Wallis was for bracing up, to stand in chase and overhaul her;
+but shortly after she seemed either to yaw a little, or fall off again
+before the wind like ourselves, at any rate showing three sticks on the
+horizon with square canvass spread, and evidently a small _ship_. “Some
+homeward-bound craft meaning to touch at the island!” said Captain
+Wallis, telling the first lieutenant to keep all fast; by which time she
+was lost in the dusk again, and I wasn’t long of going below. A fancy
+had got hold of me for the moment, I can’t deny, of its being the
+Seringapatam after us, on Westwood’s owning himself; whereupon I
+persuaded myself Captain Wallis might perhaps take the risk on him of
+letting us both go. For my part, I felt by this time as if I’d rather be
+in the same ship with _her_, hopeless though it was, than steer this way
+for the other side of the Line; and I went down with a chill at my heart
+like the air about an iceberg.
+
+Not being asleep, however, a sudden stir on deck, an hour or two after
+that, brought me out of my cot, to look through the scuttle in the side.
+The brig had hauled her wind from aft onto her starboard quarter, making
+less way than _before_ it, of course; I heard the captain’s voice near
+the after-hatchway, too; so accordingly I slipped on my clothes, and
+went quietly up. The Podargus was running through the long broad swells
+usual thereabouts, with her head somewhere toward north-east; the
+officers all up, the whole of the crew in both watches clustered beyond
+the brig’s fore-course, and the captain evidently roused, as well as
+impatient; though I couldn’t at first make out the reason of her being
+off her course. As soon as she fell off a little, however, to my great
+horror I could see a light far ahead of us, right in the gloom of the
+clouds, which for a moment you’d have supposed was the moon rising red
+and bloody, till the heave of the sea betwixt us and it showed how both
+of us were dipping: and now and then it gave a flaring glimmer fair out
+from the breast of the fog-bank, while the breeze was sending a brown
+puff of smoke from it now and then to leeward against the clouds;
+through which you made a spar or two licking up the flame, and a rag of
+canvass fluttering across on the yard. ’Twas neither more nor less than
+a ship on fire—no doubt the vessel seen abeam of us that evening—a sight
+at which Captain Wallis seemingly forgot his hurry to make St Helena, in
+the eagerness shown by all aboard to save the poor fellows. Suddenly
+there was another wild gleam from the burning craft, and we thought it
+was over altogether, when up shot a wreath of fire and smoke again, then
+a fierce flash with a blue burst of flame, full of sparks and all sorts
+of black spots and broken things, as if she had blown up while she
+heaved the last time on the swell. Everything was pitch dark next minute
+in her place, as if a big blot of ink had come instead; the brig-of-war
+herself rolling with a flap of her headsails up against the long heavy
+bank of cloud that blocked the horizon. “Keep her away, sirrah!” shouted
+Captain Wallis, and the Podargus surged ahead as before, all of us
+standing too breathless to speak, but counting the heads of the waves as
+they flickered past her weather beam. “God’s sake!” exclaimed the
+captain at last, “this is terrible, Aldridge. If I had only overhauled
+her, as I meant at first, we might have helped them in time; for no
+doubt the fire must have been commenced when we noticed her yawing
+yonder a couple of hours ago, sir.” “I think not, sir,” said his
+lieutenant, “_we_ were against the clear; and if they’d been in danger
+_then_, she’d have fired a distress-gun. There couldn’t have been much
+powder aboard, sir—more likely rum, I think!”
+
+“For heaven’s sake!” continued the captain, “let’s look about—she must
+surely have had boats out, or something, Mr Aldridge? The best thing we
+can do is to fire a few times as we bear down—see that bow-gun cleared
+away, Mr Moore, and do it!”
+
+We might have been about a mile, as was guessed, from where she was last
+seen, when the brig fired a gun to windward, still standing on under
+everything. At the second flash that lighted up the belly of the clouds,
+with the black glitter of the swells below them, I fancied I caught a
+moment’s glimpse of something two or three miles away. It was too short
+to say, however; and soon after the twinkle of a light, seemingly
+hoisted on a spar, was seen little more than half a mile upon the brig’s
+lee-bow, dipping and going out of sight at times, but plain enough when
+it rose. Down went the Podargus for the spot, sending the foam off her
+cut-water; and it was no long time before a wild hail from several
+voices could be made out almost close aboard. Ten minutes after she was
+brought to the wind, heaving a rope to the men on a loose raft of casks
+and spars, as it pitched alongside of her, with the sail hauled down on
+a spar they had stuck up, and a lantern at the head of it; after which
+the raft was cast off, and the poor fellows were safe on board.
+
+Two of them seemed to be half-drowned, the one wrapped up in a wet
+pilot-coat, his face looking white and frightened enough by the glimmer
+of the lanterns; the other darker a good deal, so far as I could make
+him out for the crowd about him, and he didn’t seem able to speak;
+accordingly, both of them were taken at once below to the surgeon. The
+rest were four half-naked blacks, and a little chap with ear-rings and a
+seaman’s dress, who was the spokesman on the quarterdeck to the
+captain’s questions—plainly American by his snuffling sort of drawl.
+“Are there no more of you afloat?” was the first thing asked, to which
+the Yankee sailor shook his head. She was an American bark, he said,
+from a voyage of discovery round the two Capes; he was mate himself, and
+the skipper, being addicted to his cups, had set a cask of rum on fire;
+so, finding they couldn’t get it under, besides being wearied at the
+pumps, on account of an old leak, the men broke into the spirit-room and
+got dead drunk. He and the blacks had patched up a raft in a hurry for
+bare life, barely saving the passenger and his servant who had jumped
+overboard: the passenger was a learned sort of a man, he said, and his
+servant was a Mexican. Most of this I found next day, from the gun-room
+officers: however, I heard the mate of the burnt barque inquire of the
+captain whereabouts they were, as the skipper was the only man who could
+use a chronometer or quadrant, and the last gale had driven them out of
+their reckonings a long way. “Somehow south of the Line, I guess?” said
+he; but, on being told, the fellow gave a bewildered glance round him,
+seemingly, and a cunning kind of squint after it, as I fancied. “Well,”
+said he, “I guess we’re considerable unlucky—but I consider to turn in,
+if agreeable!” The man had a way, in fact, half free-and-easy, half
+awkward, that struck me; especially when he said, as he went below, he
+supposed “this was a war-brig,” and hoped there “wasn’t war between the
+States and the old country?” “No, my man,” said the captain, “you may
+set your mind at ease on that point—but I’m afraid, nevertheless, we’ll
+have to land you at St Helena!” “What, mister?” said the American,
+starting, “that’s where you’ve got Boneyparty locked up? Well now, if
+you give me a good berth for a few, mister, I guess I’ll rayther ship
+aboard you, till I get a better! What’s your wage just now, if I may
+ask, captain?” “Well, well,” said the captain, laughing, “we’ll see
+to-morrow, my man!”—and the American went below. “Set stu’nsails again,
+Mr Aldridge,” continued Captain Wallis, “and square yards. Why, rather
+than have such a fellow in the ship’s company, Aldridge, I’d land him
+without Sir Hudson’s leave!”
+
+“For my own part, next day, I should have given more notice to our new
+shipmates while the brig steered fair before the wind—the blacks and the
+mate leaning about her forecastle, and the other two being expected by
+the surgeon to come pretty well round before night, though the captain
+had gone to see them below; but a thing turned up all at once that threw
+me once more full into the thought of Violet Hyde, till I was perfectly
+beside myself with the helpless case I was in. The note Tom Westwood had
+shown me was still in the pocket of my griffin’s coat, though I hadn’t
+observed it till now; and what did I feel at finding out, that, instead
+of one from her to Westwood, it was a few words from my own sister,
+little Jane, saying in a pretty, bashful sort of a way, that her brother
+Ned must come home before she could engage to anything! You may fancy
+how I cursed myself for being so blind; but a fellow never thinks his
+own sister charming at all—and what else could I have done at any rate?
+All I hoped for was to get aboard of some Indiaman at St Helena, and
+there was nothing else I wearied to see the island again for. I may say
+I walked the brig’s lee quarterdeck till daybreak; but anyhow the
+look-out from the foreyard had scarce sung out “St Helena on the
+weather-bow!” when I was up, making out the round blue cloud in the
+midst of the horizon, with a white streak across it, like a bird afloat
+in the hazy blue, with the clear gleam from eastward off our starboard
+quarter running round to it.”
+
+
+
+
+                           CANADIAN LOYALTY.
+                                AN ODE.
+
+
+ [Written at Sunrise on New Year’s Morning of 1850, at the head of Lake
+                      Ontario, in Western Canada.]
+
+            As gleams the sunrise on the deep,
+            And on yon cliffs where eagles sweep,
+            And on the circling forests deep,
+                This morn, which owns the New Year’s birth,—
+            Is there no gratulating strain
+            To hail the advent of thy reign,
+            Thou latest link of Time’s long chain
+                Let down from heaven to this our earth?
+
+            Of Britain be that strain;—for she,
+            Stretching her empire o’er the sea,
+            Exalts the lowly, and sets free
+                From thraldom’s bonds the fettered slave;
+            For ever may her children share
+            The smiles of her maternal care;
+            For ever may her vessels bear
+                St George’s standard o’er the wave!
+
+            Droop not! Although dark tempests may
+            Obscure awhile the potent ray
+            That to these o’er-sea realms brought day,
+                And Treason walk secure the scene;
+            A second morning o’er the deep
+            Shall call us jubilee to keep,
+            And to old strains each heart shall leap—
+                “God save Britannia’s noble Queen!”
+
+            “God save Britannia’s noble Queen!”—
+            Shout it aloud! that strain hath been
+            From east to west, in every scene,
+                Heard by the nations, like a hymn
+            Wafted along from clime to clime,
+            To succour truth, to startle crime,
+            And, with an influence all sublime,
+                To brighten what before was dim.
+
+            Hark! ’tis Britannia’s morning gun
+            Heralding thee, thou glorious sun;
+            And, if it peal when daylight’s done,
+                Doth she not well that honour claim?
+            For wheresoe’er thy beams light earth,
+            Thou seest her wisdom and her worth;
+            Glories that own to her their birth,
+                And Trophies of her deathless fame!
+
+            From Zembla’s snows to India’s sun,
+            To her the faint, the feeble run,
+            They who Oppression’s grasp would shun,
+                Or Superstition’s horrors blind:
+            There exiles find a country—there
+            Monarchs and serfs alike repair,
+            And, underneath her guardian care,
+                A sure and safe asylum find!
+
+            Then think not, demagogues! on whom
+            Strike these first rays which now illume
+            Our land, that, with this year, in gloom
+                Shall Britain’s power eclipsed be seen.
+            No! if she wills it, hearts are here
+            That glory in her high career,
+            That from her side will sunder ne’er,
+                But proudly own one common Queen!
+
+            Methinks there glows in Britain yet
+            A feeling, that would grieve to let
+            Thee, sun! upon her empire set,
+                While shouts of rival nations rose:—
+            Our fathers were her sons, and we
+            Are but her offspring o’er the sea;
+            Aye undivided let us be—
+                We scorn to link us with her foes!
+
+            Methinks her subjects, side by side,
+            Will long her burdens just divide,—
+            Will long maintain, in matchless pride,
+                Her flag, which aye hath honoured been:—
+            And many a great deed yet be done,
+            And many a glorious field be won,
+            Ere of her empire set the sun.
+                “God save Britannia’s noble Queen.”
+
+
+
+
+                AGRICULTURE, COMMERCE, AND MANUFACTURES:
+                        OPENING OF THE SESSION.
+
+
+It rarely happens that the proceedings which occur in parliament,
+immediately after its reassembling, are so intrinsically important as to
+sustain the interest invariably excited in the public mind by the
+approach of the legislative season. Such at least is the case whenever
+men can predict, almost with certainty, what topics will be alluded to
+and what avoided in the royal address; what policy Ministers are
+determined to pursue; and what amount of support they may confidently
+count on receiving from political friends and auxiliaries. From the
+opening of the session of 1850 little novelty was to be augured. The
+Free-traders, having had everything their own way, could not be expected
+to express any misgiving as to the working of a system which they had so
+deliberately adopted. The cry of distress from without, loud and general
+as it was, had not shaken the equanimity of the secret divan of Downing
+Street; nor perhaps was the complaint deemed as yet articulate enough to
+require more than a casual notice. The storm might be brewing, but it
+was not at its height, and there would be time enough to meet it
+hereafter. What her Majesty’s Ministers had to do was to make out a fair
+case of prosperity for the present, and to hold out a still brighter
+prospect for the future. They had plausible materials for doing so.
+Bullion was plentiful in the vaults of the Bank of England; the exports
+for the past year had increased largely in amount; the revenue was in no
+bad condition. Abroad, there was a lull in those hostilities which for
+the last two years have frightened Europe from its propriety; and,
+though the victory had not declared itself on the side of those whom the
+Whigs favoured with their approbation, still tranquillity was something.
+It gave an augmented market to our manufacturers, and removed those
+hindrances which threatened to become serious interruptions to commerce.
+With such materials at command, no one but a most sorry artificer could
+have failed in constructing a plausible prosperity address. The state of
+the home market was evidently a subject for future discussion.
+
+Notwithstanding various rumours as to meditated organic changes, it was
+pretty evident that Ministers had no intention to undertake the conduct
+of a new Reform bill. Of all the men who ever attempted to ape the
+character of Peter the Hermit, Sir Joshua Walmsley is at once the
+dullest and the most self-sufficient. Any crusade, under the auspices of
+such a preacher, could not be otherwise than abortive: indeed, he failed
+signally in the first and easiest quality of an agitator—that of
+enlisting a considerable share of popular sympathy on his side. Nor was
+finance reform likely to be seriously taken up by the Whigs, inasmuch as
+one of the earliest effects of such a scheme would necessarily be the
+reduction of their official salaries. That is a point, however, which
+they cannot long hope to evade; and it will be forced upon them, sorely
+against their will, as the inevitable consequence of low prices. They
+must prepare themselves to submit to a reduction similar to that which
+has been practised upon the officials of the Great Western Railway, who
+are put upon a short allowance in consequence of “the reduced prices of
+the necessaries of life.” The rule admits of general application, and
+doubtless will be rigidly carried out in the highest as in the lowest
+places. At present we shall not discuss that matter: we merely refer to
+it as a sufficiently intelligible reason why financial reform formed no
+part of the programme of her Majesty’s Ministers. No man expected that
+it would do so.
+
+Apart from such topics as these, there was little to be looked for in
+the speech: and accordingly, when it appeared, the speech was as meagre
+and unsuggestive as such documents usually are. Nor should we have
+thought it necessary to make it the subject of comment, save for one
+passage, which may be said to contain its kernel, in so far as the
+prospects of the home population are concerned:—
+
+
+  “Her Majesty has great satisfaction in congratulating you on the
+  improved condition of commerce and manufactures. It is with regret
+  that her Majesty has observed the complaints which, in many parts of
+  the kingdom, have proceeded from the owners and occupiers of land. Her
+  Majesty greatly laments that any portion of her subjects should be
+  suffering distress; but it is a source of sincere gratification to her
+  Majesty to witness the increased enjoyment of the necessaries and
+  comforts of life which cheapness and plenty have bestowed upon the
+  great body of her people.”
+
+
+Here there is no distinct admission of agricultural distress. Such
+distress may or may not exist: all that is known on the subject is, that
+complaints are made. But, supposing these complaints to be well founded,
+the great body of the people is reaping the benefit of that cheapness
+which is the cause of the distress of others. That is the language of
+the speech.
+
+We think it is much to be regretted that, on an occasion like this,
+Ministers should have avoided the open and manly course. If they do not
+believe in the actual existence of such distress, but are of opinion
+that the great agitation which at present is spread over England, is
+either an unfounded panic or a factious clamour, it would have been well
+to have met the statements of their adversaries with a broad and
+unequivocal denial. If, on the contrary, they are convinced that
+distress actually does exist, and that it is likely to prove permanent,
+they have placed themselves in a strange and unprecedented position with
+regard to the class so complaining. For, in that view, the terms of the
+speech will hardly admit of any other interpretation, than that it is
+matter of congratulation to find, that one section of the British public
+is prospering upon the ruin of another. We do not, of course, believe
+that the Ministry intended to lay down any such principle; for, if once
+adopted and carried out, it must lead to the entire disorganisation of
+society. We think that their peculiar position affords us the true key
+to their language. On the one hand, they cannot deny that distress
+actually does exist: on the other, they cannot, in the face of the
+commercial principles which they have adopted, and the precarious nature
+of their majority, venture to suggest a remedy. Her Majesty is not even
+allowed to express sympathy, because sympathy implies suffering—and that
+admission Ministers are by no means, as yet, prepared to make.
+
+Turning from the speech itself to the addresses, and the reported
+subsequent debates, we find this view of the matter sufficiently borne
+out. The Earl of Essex, the mover of the address in the House of Peers,
+expressed himself in the following terms:—
+
+
+  “Her Majesty had also expressed her deep sympathy with the distress
+  _stated to exist_ in many of our agricultural districts. No man could
+  regret the existence of that distress more than he did; but, in
+  expressing that regret, he must also state his conviction—a conviction
+  which was shared by many wealthy merchants, and by many, he would not
+  say a majority, of landlords—that that distress was not of a
+  permanent, but of a temporary character.”
+
+
+Lord Methuen, the seconder, took nearly the same view. The Earl of
+Carlisle said:—
+
+
+  “The degree of his alarm would be somewhat proportioned to the
+  apprehended nature of the distress. If it were temporary, and produced
+  by special and exceptional causes, not liable continually to prevail
+  or constantly to recur, then it would be plain that agriculture was
+  only subject to that variation which every other pursuit, every other
+  profession and branch of industry, every source of emolument, seemed,
+  by a law of the universe, to undergo—that change from which
+  agriculture, in a marked degree, whether protected or unprotected, had
+  never been exempt.”
+
+
+And again:—
+
+
+  “What he contended was, that, with so very circumscribed limits for
+  the experiment, and with such a marked interference of special and
+  exceptional causes, during the progress of the experiment, it would be
+  altogether preposterous to assume that the experiment had been tested,
+  that it was exhausted, and that a change in the policy of the country
+  ought to be considered, and forthwith entered upon. Neither could he
+  think they were in a situation to pronounce what were the permanent
+  fruits of the great experiment they had agreed to make. It would be
+  impossible to say at what cost corn could be permanently grown in this
+  country, or whether the same amount of foreign importations would
+  always prevail. His own feeling was not one of despondency or despair
+  on the subject. He had no right, on these points, to palm his own
+  opinion on their lordships. All he contended was, that they were not
+  in a condition to determine the questions he had indicated. He could
+  not honestly stop there, however; he could not confine himself to
+  these ambiguous and hypothetical limits: he was bound to tell their
+  lordships that, even if he were convinced that the average price of
+  corn could never ascend higher, still he was not prepared to reverse
+  the policy they had entered upon.”
+
+
+Finally, the Marquis of Lansdowne said:—
+
+
+  “Adverting to the subject of the amendment, regret must be felt when
+  distress affected any large class of her Majesty’s subjects. When the
+  noble lord (Stanley) went on to say he was convinced the distress,
+  which to a certain degree affected the owners and occupiers of land,
+  was shared by the agricultural community at large, including the
+  labourers, he met the noble lord distinctly with the assertion that,
+  throughout England, the condition of the labourers was generally
+  better.”
+
+
+Lord Lansdowne then went on to state facts regarding the importation of
+foreign corn; from which, we presume, he wished his hearers to infer
+that such importation was on the wane.
+
+
+  “With respect to the importation of foreign corn, it had diminished
+  almost to nothing at present. In the last three months of last year,
+  ending January 5th, the importation was reduced considerably below the
+  importation of the corresponding period in the previous year. He had a
+  return of the importation for the first four weeks of January. In the
+  first four weeks of last year, the importation of all sorts was
+  1,118,653; for the last four weeks of this year, ending January 28th,
+  only 336,895 quarters had been imported.”
+
+
+A valuable addition to the above statistics would have been a note of
+the range of the thermometer during the periods referred to, especially
+at the Baltic ports. In conclusion, Lord Lansdowne, whilst maintaining
+the impossibility of any recurrence to the protective system, remarked:—
+
+
+  “He considered the experiment as finally made; but, if he were to see
+  a quantity of acres thrown out of cultivation, and a number of
+  labourers without employment, he would not hesitate to confess himself
+  in the wrong, and he hoped others would not hesitate to do the same.
+  He was not now, however, prepared to go back to their past policy, and
+  to uphold what he believed to be a delusion, or to lay a foundation
+  for that ill feeling and acrimony which had distinguished the
+  discussion of the question out of doors.”
+
+
+These extracts, from the debate in the House of Lords on the first night
+of the session, deserve to be recorded for the sake of fixture
+reference. Every one of the speakers on the Ministerial side proceeded
+on the assumption that agricultural distress, if it existed, was only
+temporary, and not permanent, in its character—and, such being the case,
+that there was no room, or, at all events, no occasion for a remedy.
+
+Turning to the debate in the House of Commons, we find a bolder tone
+assumed. In their selection of the gentleman who had the honour of
+moving the address to her Majesty, Ministers gave a very strong
+indication of their deliberate views. Amongst those who annually renewed
+the motion for the repeal of the corn laws in the House of Commons,
+there was one who, with more candour or more discrimination than the
+rest, had the courage to acknowledge that the result of such a measure
+must be the “annihilation” of the small farmers. That gentleman, Mr
+Villiers, was selected as the fittest person to reciprocate to the royal
+message. We are far from reflecting upon the taste and feeling which
+suggested such a choice—indeed, we are not sure whether a better one
+could have been made; for, if the agriculturists are to understand that
+under no possible circumstances can our recent policy be changed, that
+assurance could hardly be conveyed more authoritatively than from the
+lips of the honourable member for Wolverhampton; and accordingly Mr
+Villiers does not mince the matter. He speaks out loud and bold, and
+tells the farmers that no amount of distress will make him withdraw one
+inch from his original position.
+
+
+  “He did not deny that distress existed among the occupiers of the
+  land, and he deeply regretted it; but they were not precluded from
+  retiring from that pursuit with which they were not satisfied. He
+  thought it was some consolation to know that land now fetched as high
+  a value in the market as it ever had brought in the history of this
+  country; that there never was a farm vacant but there were numerous
+  candidates for the tenancy; and that the agricultural labourers,
+  instead of being worse off, were much better off than usual. If ‘the
+  worst come to the worst,’ and the landed proprietor and the occupier
+  should be obliged to proceed in the same business-like way in
+  conducting their pursuits as persons in other businesses in this
+  country, they would have this consolation, that there was no advantage
+  possessed over them by other countries in the raising agricultural
+  produce. The only thing that he (Mr Villiers) could discover,
+  distinguishing the agriculturist here from those of other
+  countries—and that was one which he had under his own control—was the
+  price of land. It certainly was higher here than on the Continent. But
+  in many respects his advantages were great; and the inferiority, where
+  it existed, could be counteracted.”
+
+
+Statements of this kind carry with them an antidote as well as a bane.
+We are not sorry to find the foremost champion of the League, and the
+mover of the address, thus openly setting at defiance physical fact,
+common sense, and the results of practical experience. He tells the
+British agriculturist that he is in every respect, except in the price
+of land, on an equality with the foreign producer. So, then, his climate
+is as constant, his soil is as rich, the labour he employs is as cheap,
+his direct burdens are as low, his luxuries are as moderately taxed! He
+is exposed to no restrictions; there is no malt-tax; he may have his
+bricks at prime cost; he may grow his own tobacco; he may distil his own
+spirits; he is not chargeable with income-tax, irrespective of his
+drawing one shilling of profit from his farm! So says Mr Villiers: and,
+if this be true, not one of us has a right to complain. But is it true?
+We shall not insult the intelligence of our readers by entering on a
+deliberate refutation.
+
+Let us next hear the Chancellor of the Exchequer:—
+
+
+  “He admitted that in some respects, and in several parts of the
+  country, the agricultural interest had suffered; but it was all a
+  question of degree. He did not deny that the degree was considerable,
+  but he did not think it existed to anything approaching the extent
+  that had been represented; and he denied, therefore, that they ought
+  to retrace the steps of their policy; for, though distress existed, he
+  relied on the industry and the energy of the British farmer.”
+
+
+Then come general opinions, almost amounting to assertions, that the
+present low price of corn cannot be permanent; and these opinions are
+fortified by a comparison of the importations in January 1849 with those
+in January 1850, no notice being taken of any difference between the
+seasons! Sir Charles Wood next put forth an authority, to which we crave
+attention:—
+
+
+  “The _Mark-Lane Express_ stated that the price of corn in the Baltic
+  was so high that it would not pay to send it to this country; and the
+  only country from which corn was at present sent to us was France,
+  which, in ordinary years, was not an exporting country. There was good
+  reason to suppose, therefore, that the permanent price of wheat in
+  this country would not range so low as at the present time. Prices
+  were not at present remunerative to the importer, and importation had
+  received a most signal check. The farmer need not, therefore,
+  apprehend that ruin from the operation of free trade which he at
+  present anticipated from prices under 40s. a quarter. What the future
+  price of corn in this country would be, it would be wrong in him (the
+  Chancellor of the Exchequer) to attempt to state, after the mistakes
+  that the most practical and wisest men had fallen into with regard to
+  the importation of corn. But it was worth observing, that at present
+  no importation could take place from those countries from which
+  importation had been most feared, and that the greatest quantities of
+  corn recently received had come from those countries from which no one
+  had anticipated any importation whatever. An honourable member had
+  expressed an opinion that 44s. a quarter was the average price that
+  might be expected to prevail for wheat. Now, he could not agree with
+  those who held the opinion that the agriculturist would be ruined by
+  such a price.”
+
+
+Here there are two distinct propositions, with regard to which we have a
+word to say. 1st, Sir Charles Wood, on the authority of the _Mark-Lane
+Express_, an authority which he afterwards admits will not be disputed,
+says that the importations are checked, and will be checked, on account
+of the high price of corn in the Baltic, and, therefore, that the price
+of wheat in this country will rise. 2d, He thinks that the home
+agriculturist can carry on production with wheat at 44s. per quarter.
+
+Well, then, let us see what has since been told us on the authority of
+the _Mark-Lane Express_, so lately as 11th February:—
+
+
+  “The value of wheat having receded, without a check, from week to week
+  since the commencement of the year, has fallen to a point at which
+  growers are very unwilling to sell; and within the last eight days the
+  deliveries have fallen off more or less, which circumstance, and the
+  probability of short supplies during the time farmers shall be engaged
+  preparing the land for the reception of the spring crops, appear to
+  have led to the belief that quotations will not for the present
+  undergo any farther reduction. That a temporary rally may take place
+  is not improbable; but we are by no means sanguine on the subject, and
+  regard any improvement of moment as wholly out of the question.
+  Whatever may be said to the contrary, we maintain that prices of wheat
+  are at present higher on the continent of Europe than is warranted by
+  the result of the last harvest. With average crops, such as those
+  secured in 1849 in most of the large grain-growing countries of
+  Europe, a very considerable surplus must have been produced for
+  export; and as there appears to be no chance of France, Holland, or
+  Belgium requiring supplies from the Baltic, and as our markets hold
+  out little encouragement for calculating on higher prices, the value
+  of the article must, we think, inevitably come down in Russia, Poland,
+  and Germany. Any argument founded on what has occurred in bygone times
+  is no longer applicable, the alteration in our corn laws placing the
+  matter in an entirely new position. For the past to be serviceable in
+  affording materials to form a judgment of the probable future, it is
+  necessary to have a parallel instance; and all calculations founded on
+  what prices have been in years when a different order of things
+  existed, are more likely to mislead than instruct. It is not probable
+  that prices will fall to so low a point as they have done on former
+  occasions, when England has required comparatively small supplies, the
+  removal of our import duties and the repeal of the Navigation Laws
+  being greatly in favour of the foreign grower; but, on the other hand,
+  it may be easily foreseen that with wheat at 35s. per quarter in many
+  of our home markets, British merchants will not purchase abroad on
+  such terms as have been hitherto asked for spring delivery.
+  Speculation may for a time support prices at Dantzic, Rostock, &c.,
+  but the value must ultimately be regulated by prices here; and we feel
+  perfectly satisfied that supplies on a much larger scale than we are
+  likely to want will reach us from the Baltic, Black Sea, &c., later in
+  the year.”
+
+
+Nowhere can be discerned any symptom which might justify us in believing
+that prices are likely, for any length of time, to take an upward
+tendency. The importations of last year principally consisted of the
+yield of an inferior Continental crop—that of 1848. The large crop of
+1849 is preparing for us; and how is it possible to suppose that this
+will be kept back unless an augmented price is given for it? Even the
+frozen state of the Baltic ports has had no effect in raising prices at
+home. On the contrary, they are still declining. The average of wheat in
+the Haddington market of 8th February, was 34s. 1d. The Berks
+correspondent of _Bell’s Weekly Messenger_ writes thus on the 4th:—“The
+corn markets are gradually getting lower, and, taking all the sorts of
+grain together, they are now lower than they have been since the
+memorable year 1822; and there is, we are sure, less money in
+circulation in the country than there has been for many years. The
+occupiers of the soil seem to be the first class doomed to be ruined;
+but it must be recollected that the farmers will not be the only class.”
+
+But it is of little use for us at present to discuss a point which the
+experience of a few months must necessarily solve. Sir Charles Wood’s
+statement, if intended to influence the division, has already served its
+purpose. Inasmuch, therefore, as the prospects of importation are
+concerned, we need not speculate farther.
+
+But when Sir Charles assumes a price of 44s. as remunerative for the
+grower of wheat, he takes his position on other ground. We shall not
+reiterate our own opinions on this subject, or those of any writer who
+may be supposed to be favourable to protection. The evidence of
+adversaries may be more valuable; and the first whom we shall cite is
+Sir Robert Peel. In 1842, the late Premier indicated his opinion that
+the remunerative price ranged from 54s. to 58s., and he never wished to
+see it lower than the former sum. Sir Charles Wood, however,
+courageously fixes his estimate 10s. beneath that of Sir Robert Peel;
+and we doubt not that, if the fall should still continue, we shall find
+him averring hereafter that 34s. per quarter is a price amply
+remunerative to the British grower.
+
+Our next witness is a gentleman whose testimony must be valuable in the
+eyes of political economists. We quote from a work originally published
+in 1839, entitled, _Influences of the Corn Laws_, by JAMES WILSON, Esq.
+now M.P. for Westbury, and Secretary of the Board of Control. It is a
+treatise on which we set so much store, that we propose, in an early
+number of Maga, to subject it to a deliberate review, for the purpose of
+pointing out the singularly felicitous realisation of the leading
+prophecies therein contained, and the intimate knowledge displayed by
+the writer of the subject with which he was dealing. At present we shall
+confine ourselves strictly to one point.
+
+
+  “This may therefore be called the rate which is fixed by our own
+  internal competition and resources; 52s. 2d. per quarter may be called
+  the prime cost of wheat to the consumer, and that sum, reduced by the
+  charges enumerated, may be called the remunerating price to the landed
+  interest to the exact extent to which they have been remunerated.”—p.
+  53.
+
+
+Again:—
+
+
+  “As we shall afterwards show, we take 52s. 2d. to be the proper price
+  for wheat, at which an exactly sufficient amount of production would
+  be kept up, it having been the average price for the last seven years;
+  we therefore take it as the standard price at which wheat can be sold
+  to the consumer. It must be clear that whatever average annual price
+  the farmer receives in any year above that price, he obtains so much
+  profit beyond the average rate; _and that whatever average annual
+  price he receives in any year less than that standard price, he makes
+  so much distinct loss_; and therefore the difference between the
+  profit derived from the higher prices and the loss from the lower
+  prices must show the balance in favour or against the home grower.”—p.
+  41.
+
+
+Mr Wilson’s argument we leave for the present untouched; we merely found
+upon his statement that 52s. 2d. is the proper standard price for
+British wheat, and that any lower rate of price must entail a loss on
+the grower. So far, therefore, his views are utterly irreconcilable with
+those of the Chancellor of the Exchequer.
+
+Lord John Russell, who addressed the House last, on the Ministerial
+side, was not very distinct in his admission as to the existence of
+distress. If there was any, he seemed to think it was caused by corn
+speculation, and he rang the changes on the old topic of periods of
+transition and depression. The division was in entire accordance with
+the debate, for it resulted in the rejection of the amendment on the
+address, proposed in the following terms, “But humbly to represent to
+her Majesty that, in many parts of the United Kingdom, and especially in
+Ireland, the various classes of her Majesty’s subjects connected with
+the cultivation of the soil are labouring under severe distress, mainly
+attributable, in our opinion, to recent legislative enactments, the
+operation of which is aggravated by the severe pressure of local
+taxation.”
+
+That such an amendment was called for on the part of those who are
+opposed to the free-trade policy, we think will be generally admitted.
+It was but right and reasonable that the case of the agriculturist
+should be brought under the notice of parliament at the very earliest
+opportunity; not with the view of forcing on an immediate reversal of
+the national policy, but to obtain, if possible, a distinct
+acknowledgment of the position in which the most important section of
+the community is placed. That acknowledgment has not been given. It
+would almost seem as if the Free-traders, in the intoxication of their
+headlong career, already considered the great agricultural interest as
+completely prostrated as the colonies, with regard to which no notice
+whatever was vouchsafed in the royal speech. Mr Cobden is perfectly
+furious that the point should be again mooted. He considered protection
+as defunct, and the ghost of it laid in the Dead Sea; and now, when it
+starts up before him, a living, thriving, and withal a formidable
+reality, he has recourse to language unmeet for the mouth of any
+respectable conjuror. Lord John Russell can do little more than utter a
+feeble and wholly inapplicable descant upon the advantages of the
+station of an English gentleman—forgetting all the while that such a
+station implies the performance of certain duties, of which not the
+meanest are the advocacy of the rights of the British labourer, and the
+maintenance of the British constitution. The amendment, as every one
+anticipated, was rejected; but, notwithstanding, it has served its
+purpose. It has elicited opinions, a commentary on which will be
+valuable before the present session is over; it has shown the
+agricultural interest how little they have to expect from the present
+Parliament; it has laid the foundation for distinct propositions
+regarding the equalising and proper adjustment of taxation, which no
+doubt will be brought forward _seriatim_, and submitted to the
+consideration of the Commons. If these are rejected, as they probably
+will be, and if every measure of relief is met by a direct or a virtual
+negative, it will then be time for the defenders of British interests to
+lay their complaint at the foot of the throne, and to ask for a
+dissolution of the present Parliament, in order that the constituencies
+of Great Britain may have an opportunity of recording their votes for or
+against the continuance of the present policy.
+
+We shall, of course, be told that the point has been already settled.
+What is settled? Have not our fiscal regulations been altered year after
+year; and was there not a settlement disturbed by the repeal of the Corn
+Laws, at least as deliberate as that which is now assumed to be
+inviolable? How long is it since “the experiment,” to which we were
+entreated to give a fair trial, lost its experimental character, and
+became a law, fenced against repeal as closely as a statute of Darius?
+Is there a single free-trade prophet who can hold up his head and say
+that his vaticinations have been fulfilled? Mr M’Gregor prophesied that
+the nation would become richer, at the ratio of two millions a-week. Mr
+Economist Wilson prophesied augmented prices to the agriculturist,
+adding this ingenuous commentary,—“that there is no better evidence of a
+prosperous community or country, _than the existence of a high average
+price of provisions_, when the condition of the labourer, as is the case
+in this country, is relatively better than in other countries; and that,
+on the contrary, there is no stronger evidence of a miserable and
+impoverished country, than the existence of low prices of provisions,
+where the condition of the labourer is comparatively and infinitely
+worse than in other countries where prices are higher.” Mr Cobden
+prophesied thus in 1843 and 1844, not once but many times,—“The
+landlords will (with free trade) have better rents.” “Give us a free
+trade, and land will be as valuable as it is now.” “I believe that land
+would be more valuable in this country if you had at once an entire
+abolition of the Corn Laws.” We could cite similar testimony, uttered by
+a host of prophets as numerous as those of Baal, but we think the above
+instances may suffice; and it is on the faith of such vaticinations that
+we are peremptorily desired to consider the late ruinous measures as
+fixed and unalterable! The railway and the free-trade delusion reached
+their highest point in one and the self-same year. We have seen the
+quacks, impostors, and swindlers of the one system, scouted by the
+unanimous voice of public reprobation already; the leading partisans of
+the other cannot long hope to escape the infliction of a similar doom.
+
+It has been said, in various quarters, that we have taken too gloomy a
+view of the future agricultural prospects of Great Britain. It may be
+so; but, at all events, we are borne out, and even exceeded, by Mr
+Villiers. If any man has doubts as to the depression of the agricultural
+interest, let him peruse carefully the following statement of the mover
+of the address:—
+
+
+  “He (Mr Villiers) had made a calculation of the saving effected by the
+  people of this country, in consequence of the present reduced price of
+  food. He found that the average price of wheat in 1847 was 69s. 5d.;
+  on the 29th of December 1849, it was 39s. 4d.; the average price of
+  barley in 1847 was 43s., and, in 1849, 25s.; of oats, in 1847, 28s.,
+  and in 1849, 15s.; and there had been a corresponding reduction in
+  beans and peas. The usual calculation was, that our population of
+  30,000,000 consumed one quarter of corn to each person annually; but,
+  taking a low estimate of consumption, and calculating that the
+  population annually consumed 20,000,000 quarters of each of these
+  descriptions of grain, he found that the saving effected by the
+  difference of prices between 1847 and 1849, amounted to £61,000,000.
+  He had also estimated, on the same moderate scale, the saving effected
+  by the difference in the prices of meat, butter, cheese, potatoes, and
+  other articles, in 1847 and 1849, and he found that it amounted to
+  £30,000,000 more; so that there had been a total saving in the
+  expenditure of the people upon food of £91,000,000 between 1847 and
+  1849. This was the result of free trade _in the very first year of its
+  operation_. And when so large an amount was saved for expenditure on
+  other articles than food, he thought it was no matter of astonishment
+  that the general condition of the people had improved, and that the
+  country was in a flourishing condition.”
+
+
+We shall not investigate the accuracy of this calculation, nor shall we
+discuss the soundness of the conclusions. It is enough for us that Mr
+Villiers holds it to be matter of congratulation that, in one year, “the
+very first year of the operation of free trade,” agricultural produce
+has been depreciated to the amount of £91,000,000. This is worth a
+little consideration. Messrs Cobden, Bright, & Co., have taken much
+pains of late to impress upon the farmers that the present struggle is
+“a mere landlord’s question;” that the tenantry have nothing earthly to
+do with it; and that their sole object ought to be a speedy lowering of
+the rents. Our statistics, published in the Magazine, although certified
+by a large body of the leading agriculturists in nearly every district
+of Scotland, have been designated as “cooked,” by Cockneys who never saw
+a blade of wheat grow except on a Sunday excursion to Thames Ditton, and
+by pseudo-political economists, who, when detected in deliberate
+falsification, have not even the grace to tender a lame apology. The
+gravity of an insult depends upon the respectability of those who utter
+it. Foul language from the mouth of a cabman does not excite any
+rancorous feeling in the bosom of the man who is favoured with the abuse
+of Jehu; and, therefore, our correspondents, in number more than
+thirty—gentlemen of the highest respectability and character in
+Scotland—need not be disturbed by any imputations emanating from the
+quarters which we are reluctantly compelled to notice. But, since our
+opponents affect to disbelieve the accuracy of our views and
+calculations, let them deal with those of Mr Villiers. He puts down the
+amount of saving in food at £91,000,000, for a single year. The net
+rental of Great Britain and Ireland is £58,753,615:[9] and it therefore
+follows, that _supposing no rent whatever to have been paid_, the
+tenantry must have suffered loss or diminution of profits to the extent
+of £22,246,385! These are the free-trade calculations—not ours. We do
+not wonder that the _Times_ did not lose a day in casting discredit upon
+a statement which, though cheered on the Ministerial side of the house,
+was, in reality, a more damnatory exposition of free trade than the most
+ingenious Protectionist could have devised. For our part, we shall not
+venture to say whether Mr Villiers was right or wrong. A calculation, of
+this extended nature, might tax the powers of the ablest actuary; but,
+if it be correct, surely we stand acquitted of all exaggeration; and,
+what is of far greater importance, no one can henceforth venture to
+assert that this is a mere “landlord’s question;” since, if all rent
+were abandoned, the loss to the tenantry, in a single year, would be
+twenty-two and a quarter millions!
+
+But let us pass in the meantime from the agricultural case, and see what
+real ground exists for the self-gratulations of ministers on the general
+prosperous state of the country at the opening of the present session.
+We quote the paragraph from the royal speech:—“Her Majesty has great
+satisfaction in congratulating you on the improved condition of commerce
+and manufactures.” We shall consider the two interests separately.
+
+First, as to commerce, and its main branch, the shipping and
+shipbuilding interest. The repeal of the Navigation Laws having been
+effected in the course of last year, it might be premature to form a
+decided judgment on the working of the new system. Most certainly we
+have not done so; and we think it would have been only decent had her
+Majesty’s Ministers exercised a similar discretion. But in order to make
+out a case of prosperity, the commerce of the country could not be
+overlooked; and facts, (when they _are_ facts,) however slight, are too
+valuable to be dispensed with on such an occasion as this. Accordingly,
+we are told that the shipping interest never was in a state of greater
+activity and prosperity than now. Mr Villiers opened thus:—
+
+
+  “It was rather early, perhaps, to express any opinions of what would
+  be the general results of that great change; but there was reason to
+  believe that all the anticipations of its advocates would be
+  infinitely more than realised, and that all the fearful predictions of
+  its opponents would be falsified. _The interest most affected by these
+  changes had not been for some years in such a state of activity as it
+  presented at this moment._ In the Thames and Tyne, in the Wear and
+  Clyde, the business of the shipbuilder or shipowner exhibited a more
+  cheering aspect. _From all our dockyards the reports were equally
+  satisfactory_; and many of the gentlemen who had been most prominent
+  in foretelling ruin and destruction from the change, admitted the
+  advantages they were deriving from it.”
+
+
+The Chancellor of the Exchequer entirely acquiesced in this statement:
+
+
+  “At the present moment no one could find fault with the change which
+  had taken place in the Navigation Laws, if he took the trouble to look
+  at the state of the great shipbuilding ports of this commercial
+  country. He might mention one port, which, above all others, should be
+  regarded as indicating the condition of the shipbuilding interest
+  throughout the seaports of England, namely, Sunderland; but he might
+  also mention Liverpool and the Scotch ports, where the shipbuilding in
+  the year 1849 went on with more rapidity than in any former period;
+  and not only was the quantity of shipping built at these places
+  greater than in any former year, but a better class of vessels was
+  built, vessels calculated and fitted for the long voyage.”
+
+
+Mr Labouchere, the President of the Board of Trade, was even stronger in
+his averments:
+
+
+  “He confidently appealed to every member of that house who had
+  considered the subject, and, above all, to the representatives of the
+  great shipping ports of this country, whether it was true to say that
+  the industry of the dockyards had been paralysed by the measure of
+  last session. On the contrary—and this was a subject on which he
+  naturally felt the greatest interest, and which he had looked into
+  with the utmost care—he had never made an assertion in that house with
+  greater confidence, _and he challenged contradiction on the part of
+  any mercantile man or gentleman interested in shipping_, than when he
+  stated his belief that the industry of shipbuilding, that the
+  confidence of the mercantile public in shipowning, that the whole
+  business of the country connected with shipbuilding and shipowning,
+  were in a state most satisfactory and most encouraging to those who
+  did not believe that they were paralysing that important branch of
+  industry by the measures of last session. He believed the fact to be
+  that there were at least as many ships building at this moment as at
+  any period within the last twenty years in this country.”
+
+
+In the face of such unqualified averments and challenges, on a point
+necessarily statistical, and in opposition to the President of the Board
+of Trade, who, from his official position, was the man of all others
+most likely to be furnished with full and accurate information, it would
+have been rash in any individual member to have hazarded a flat
+contradiction. But a question of such vital importance as this is sure
+to be thoroughly investigated; and we are indebted to that excellent
+paper, the _Shipping and Mercantile Gazette_, for an elaborate and
+complete refutation of the whole case so ostentatiously paraded by
+Government. Our contemporary, we are sure, will not quarrel with us if
+we transfer into our columns a good deal of the valuable information
+obtained by so much industry and perseverance, for which the thanks of
+the whole community are justly due.
+
+
+  “We are prepared,” says the editor of the _Shipping and Mercantile
+  Gazette_, in his leading article of the 31st January, “to prove that
+  the depression in our shipping—in building as well as in freights—has
+  not been so great for years as it is at the present time; in short,
+  that it is _depression_, and not improvement, which is UNIVERSAL, with
+  scarcely ‘the exception of a few ports.’
+
+  “With regard to shipbuilding, it is necessary to bear in mind that
+  shipbuilders cannot stop their business all at once; they have yards
+  on lease—materials on hand—and apprentices to maintain; therefore they
+  must be doing a little at almost any risk.
+
+  “With a view to obtain correct information upon the subject, we have
+  procured authenticated returns from accredited correspondents at all
+  the ports, which we shall proceed to lay before our readers; merely
+  premising that, as the foreign and colonial trade diminishes in
+  profit, it drives ships into the coasting trade, which, as it will be
+  seen, is suffering severely from the depreciating effects.”
+
+
+The following are a few of the returns, inserted alphabetically:—
+
+
+                                              “ABERDEEN, _Feb. 2, 1850_.
+
+  “It is vain to try to conceal the very depressed state of the shipping
+  interest at this port at present, everything around us having a dreary
+  and most discouraging aspect. Our docks are full of vessels of every
+  class and size, and nothing for them to do. Freights offering (and
+  they are very few indeed) are not, by any means, at remunerative
+  rates: 30s. to 33s. per load timber from Quebec, or 67s. 6d. per ton
+  guano from Peru, will never pay the shipowner, while he pays the
+  present rate of wages, and gives the usual rations to his seamen. If
+  freights are to be kept down by foreign competition, the British
+  sailor must be brought down to the level of the foreigner; but such a
+  state of things, we hope, will still, by some means or other, be
+  averted.
+
+  “Notwithstanding the justly high character our shipbuilders here have
+  attained in the construction of their ships, and the great perfection
+  they have come to in the construction of vessels with the clipper-bow,
+  and which are now making such unparalleled rapid voyages, we believe
+  they have few, if any, orders on hand; and in the absence of such have
+  been building on speculation, and have at this moment a few vessels on
+  the stocks for sale, superb specimens of naval architecture, and no
+  immediate prospect of purchasers. One of our local papers was holding
+  out to us the other day that we need not fear foreign competition,
+  having vessels of such great sailing and carrying qualities. This
+  would be all very well, if guaranteed to this country alone; but it
+  will soon be found that foreigners will get improved vessels as well
+  as we, and, most probably, get our carpenters to go from this country
+  to build them.
+
+  “The number of seamen at this port is about 2330, of which at present
+  there are about 280 unemployed. Vessels laid up, 45—a greater number
+  than was ever known in any previous year.”
+
+
+                                               “BOSTON, _Jan. 26, 1850_.
+
+  “Our harbour-master here, who has been upwards of forty years master
+  of vessels out of this port, states that HE NEVER KNEW THE SHIPPING
+  INTEREST AT SO LOW AN EBB AS AT THE PRESENT TIME; and he firmly
+  believes the future prospects are very discouraging. The majority of
+  our vessels are _now_ worked by the masters at _thirds_, and many of
+  them have lost money during the past year—that is, have not made the
+  former wages of £5 per month; in fact, many of them have not made
+  mate’s wages—viz., £3, 5s. per month, who have not reduced their pay
+  more than 5s. per month, and ordinary seamen at the same rate.”
+
+
+                                           “CAERNARVON, _Jan. 29, 1850_.
+
+  “Ours is nearly altogether a coasting trade, engaged principally in
+  the export of slates, which averages about 91,000 tons per annum.
+  During the year 1849 the export declined to 79,000 tons, and at
+  present there are no prospects of its revival. The shipping belonging
+  to the port is in a _most depressed_ condition; freights are very
+  difficult to be had; and when they are offered, the rate is ruinously
+  low—say 9s. per ton to London, 4s. and 5s. to Liverpool, and so on in
+  proportion. Masters of our coasters are remunerated out of the profits
+  of the vessels they command; and so small have been their earnings of
+  late, that some are giving up _the command_, and shipping as _able
+  seamen_, inasmuch as they earn better wages in the latter capacity!
+  Shipbuilding is almost at an end here; no one will invest capital in
+  coasting vessels now, so depressed are freights, and so clouded is the
+  future.”
+
+
+                                                 “CORK, _Jan. 29, 1850_.
+
+  “I subjoin a statement of freights, &c., at this port:—
+
+                                             Per load timber.
+           Freights,       Quebec,      1847             40s.
+               „                „       1848             32s.
+               „                „       1849             30s.
+                                                 per ton.
+               „     W. C. So. America  1848           £4 5 0
+               „       „   beginning of 1849           3 17 6
+               „       „   end of       1849           3  7 6
+
+
+“The other freights are in the same proportion.
+
+“The wages of shipmasters have been reduced _one-third_. A few years
+back we generally had six or eight vessels on the stocks at this port,
+AT PRESENT ONLY ONE, and that is an iron screw-steamer, building for the
+Cork Steam-ship Company. The great majority of the vessels now belonging
+to this port are colonial built.
+
+“Shipmasters have been obliged to accept of reduced wages in order to
+obtain employment to enable them to support their families. Several of
+them who were fortunate in having a little money saved, have commenced
+_tailoring_, rope-making, acting as coasting pilots, &c. &c.”
+
+
+                                              “DROGHEDA, _Feb. 1, 1850_.
+
+  “There are no ships building here, although we have a good dockyard;
+  nor are there any repairing, although we have an excellent patent
+  slip: there are four or five ships laying up, which the owners will
+  not repair. They would willingly sell, but no person can be got to
+  purchase: in fact, were it not for the purpose of giving employment to
+  the masters and crews, I do think that our vessels would be laid up,
+  for they are not earning one shilling for their owners. It is also my
+  firm belief that, in seven years, one half of our ships will drop
+  away, and what was once a nursery for our navy, will not be so, for in
+  a little time the coasting trade will almost cease to exist, as we
+  have to contend with railways, steamboats, and foreigners driven into
+  our trade by the late change in the law.
+
+  “As regards our sailors, they are to be seen every day walking about
+  our quays, anxious to procure employment, but, from the complete
+  annihilation of our trade, they are unable to procure any;
+  consequently they and their families are in a most wretched
+  condition.”
+
+
+                                            “LIVERPOOL, _Jan. 29, 1850_.
+
+  “The shipping trade is exceedingly depressed here, and freights are
+  wholly unremunerative. A Manchester house has just chartered an
+  American ship from Calcutta, at £2, 15s. 6d.
+
+  “FREIGHTS ARE AT LEAST 15 PER CENT LOWER, ON THE AVERAGE, THAN THEY
+  WERE LAST YEAR.”
+
+
+                                             “MARYPORT, _Jan. 29, 1850_.
+
+  “Cumberland has long been famed for its celebrity in shipbuilding, its
+  vessels being known to, and appreciated by, the merchants in every
+  region of the globe; but I am sorry to observe that, at the present
+  moment, owing to the unwise repeal of the Navigation Laws, THE SEVERAL
+  SHIPBUILDERS AT MARYPORT, WORKINGTON, AND WHITEHAVEN ARE WITHOUT ANY
+  CONTRACTS—a circumstance strangely at variance with the account which
+  lately appeared in some of the Free-trade journals at Manchester. It
+  was then stated that several eminent merchants of that locality were
+  desirous of building a large amount of tonnage in England; but, owing
+  to the several builders being so full of contracts, they were
+  necessarily obliged to go abroad to build their vessels. It would,
+  however, seem that these gentlemen had entirely forgotten the
+  geographical position of Cumberland, or else we must suppose that they
+  would have deemed it their interest to have made contracts there;
+  unless, indeed, they found, as I strongly suspect they did, that the
+  Continental builder could build cheaper.”
+
+
+                                              “PLYMOUTH, _Feb. 2, 1850_.
+
+  “The shipping interest of this port is in a very depressed state, many
+  vessels being laid up; and, consequently, their crews are out of
+  employment, and our quays quite deserted by shipping. The vessels in
+  actual service are principally employed in the coal trade, and by the
+  owners only, at very reduced freights—at from 5s. to 5s. 6d. from
+  Wales, and from 6s. to 6s. 6d. from the north; others sailing out of
+  other ports at anything but remunerating freights. There are nine
+  shipwrights’ yards in this port, in one of which only one vessel is
+  building for a shipowner; and one sold from another. Two vessels have
+  been for sale for many months past. In each of the others, vessels,
+  varying from 100 to 300 tons, are being built on speculation, but
+  progress very slowly. From a want of that enterprising spirit evinced
+  in times past, there are not half the shipwrights kept in the yards
+  now, and a reduction has already taken place in the wages. Many
+  masters and sailors are also walking the quays unemployed; but we are
+  told, by those who use the old adage of the pinching shoe, that a man
+  may get as much for 10d. now as he could have got for double that sum
+  some time since. Where is the use of things being _so very cheap_,
+  when the poor man is deprived of the means of employment? Our exports
+  are very trifling: manganese at about 6s. to 10s. to Liverpool and
+  Scotland; lead and copper ores 3s. to 7s. per ton! Our
+  imports—principally timber from Quebec, hemp, tar, fruit, &c. The
+  former was 30s. to 32s. per load last year; what it will be this it is
+  impossible to tell, now the foreigner goes into the trade. Six of our
+  vessels (Quebec ships) are gone to Sierra Leone, thereby leaving the
+  trade open to the foreigner. The average wages are from 30s. to 40s.
+  for seamen in the coasting trade, 40s. foreign; £4 to £8 for masters,
+  £2, 10s. to £3 mates, at per month, which are much lower.”
+
+
+                                               “RUNCORN, _Feb. 1, 1850_.
+
+  “The number of vessels belonging to the port of Runcorn is about 70,
+  of the total burthen of about 6500 tons, most of them engaged in the
+  coasting trade. Freights to and from this port are very scarce, and
+  when any are offered they are at a miserably low rate. We should say
+  that freights are, at the least, 25 per cent less than they were in
+  the years 1845, 1846, and 1847. Nearly all the vessels belonging to
+  this port are sailed by the shares—that is, the master takes one half
+  the freight after all port charges are deducted from it, and he has to
+  pay out of his share seamen’s wages, and also to find victuals; the
+  owner has the remaining half, out of which he has to pay all expenses
+  for wear and tear. But the present rates of freight are so very low
+  that the masters cannot keep out of debt, let alone earn anything for
+  themselves, and the owner’s share is not sufficient to keep the vessel
+  in efficient working order. THE SHIPBUILDING TRADE HERE IS IN A MANNER
+  DESERTED: there are only two vessels on the stocks; one has been
+  partially finished for the last twelve months, and the other for the
+  last six months. There is not the slightest inducement for persons to
+  lay out their capital in shipping, there being no certainty of the
+  smallest return.”
+
+
+                                            “SUNDERLAND, _Feb. 1, 1850_.
+
+  “Various statements having lately been published relative to the state
+  of shipbuilding at this port, it is desirable that those interested in
+  knowing how far the statements alluded to are correct, should be made
+  acquainted with the real facts. It is true that at the close of last
+  year there were about 92 ships on the stocks at this port; since that
+  time several of them have been launched: many of them were larger than
+  the average of ships built here, and about two-thirds of them were
+  sold from the builders. Be it, however, understood that of the
+  two-thirds sold, say 60 out of 92, upwards of 30 were purchased by
+  outfitters, or ship-jobbers, who purchase the hulls of ships in order
+  to have the outfit; _they are therefore still in the market_. Many of
+  the shipbuilders, and also outfitters, had great stocks of timber and
+  other materials on hand twelve months ago, previous to the ships in
+  question being put on the stocks. It was then the opinion of the
+  shipbuilders that the project to repeal the Navigation Laws, and grant
+  foreign-built ships British registers, would not be carried, from the
+  general manifestation of feeling against that measure evinced by
+  practical men generally, who best understood the subject.
+  Shipbuilders’ stocks were therefore kept up, and in many instances
+  increased, and remunerating prices for ships were maintained. Since
+  the act was passed which repealed the Navigation Laws, prices have
+  been gradually on the decline. Within the last two years the average
+  price for a ship, A 1 eight years classed, was from £10, 10s. to £11
+  per ton; now the price for a ship of that character, is from £8, 10s.
+  to £9 per ton. The most respectable shipbuilders of this port freely
+  declare that their trade appears fast hastening to the destructive
+  state of agriculture; and that, if the present line of policy is
+  pursued, all who are engaged in their trade must be great sufferers.”
+
+
+Letters to the same effect are given by the editor of _The Shipping
+Gazette_, from correspondents at Aldborough, Bude, Dundalk, Kinsale,
+Maldon, Padstow, Pwllheli, Strangford, Torquay, Westport, and
+Woodbridge; so that from the ports all round the British Islands, the
+cry of distress, caused by the crushing effect of free trade upon the
+body of British industry, is arising. And this is what our Whig rulers
+call unexampled prosperity!
+
+From the leading Plymouth journal of 31st Jan. we extract the following
+letter, which we would venture to recommend to the earnest attention of
+Mr Labouchere. It contains some statements of a very different
+complexion from those which appear to have passed through the hands of
+the officials of the Board of Trade.
+
+         “_To the Editor of the West of England Conservative._
+
+
+  “SIR,—My attention having been called to a paragraph in your journal,
+  which states that the shipwrights in one of the principal firms in
+  Plymouth had struck for wages, I have to inform you that the firm is
+  mine.
+
+  For several years past I have paid my men 18s. per week on new work,
+  and 21s. per week on old work; and they never lost any time, but by
+  their own fault.
+
+  For some time past I have had complaints from many shipowners, that,
+  as their returns were greatly reduced by freights constantly lowering,
+  we, the shipbuilders, must reduce our charges, or they would be
+  compelled to take their ships to other ports. Added to this, a friend
+  of mine, Captain Shapcott, for whom I built a ship two years since,
+  and with which he was so much pleased that he wished me to give him a
+  price for another, of about 230 tons burthen. I accordingly did so;
+  she was to be a first-class vessel, and entitled to class A 1 twelve
+  years, at Lloyd’s. My proposals were sent to a merchant in London,
+  whom Captain Shapcott wished should be the principal owner. This
+  gentleman (Mr Brooking) replied, that as everything was coming down,
+  wages, and materials for shipbuilding, must come down also; and that,
+  unless I would engage to build for £10 per ton, and find a very large
+  number of articles more than I had for the former vessel, he would not
+  contract at all. He also said, that he had been in treaty for a ship
+  to be built for him in Prussia, which he found he could do for £3 per
+  ton cheaper than he could have one in England. I was obliged to
+  decline engaging to build on such terms, as would have occasioned me a
+  loss of some hundreds of pounds.
+
+  On Friday, the 18th January, on paying my men, I gave them a
+  memorandum, stating these particulars, and that I imagined they must
+  have been expecting, for some time, that wages would be reduced, not
+  only from what they must know themselves, but also from the great
+  reduction in the price of provisions and clothing. I, at the same
+  time, offered them 17s. per week on new work, and 19s. per week on old
+  work, telling them that, as their labour was their own property, if
+  they could do better, I should have no objection whatever. They all,
+  29 in number, refused to work; and, I believe, the greater part of
+  them have not been employed since, as I have seen them walking the
+  streets.
+
+  Not pretending to be a politician, I can only give my own opinion of
+  the acts of the Legislature; and, from the first, I believed that the
+  abrogation of the Navigation Laws must have the effect of depriving
+  thousands of Englishmen of employment.
+
+  Put this case to myself. I have employed more than 100 persons in
+  building and fitting ships; every other class, such as rope-makers,
+  sail-makers, block-makers, boat-builders, coopers, painters, glaziers,
+  chain and anchor makers, provision merchants, and others engaged in
+  putting a ship to sea, have all employ here. A merchant goes abroad
+  and builds (which he will do) at, it may be, a less price, and see the
+  consequence—the foreigner is employed, and our artisans must be idle;
+  it is the natural result. As to the bugbear of Free trade, it will
+  ruin England,—can I compete with a foreigner? He has his timber, his
+  labour, and materials for fitting out his ship infinitely cheaper than
+  I have; he is not oppressed by heavy Government and local taxation;
+  and when his ship comes to England, she has all the privileges of a
+  ship of the first class, which it is in my power to build; and
+  further, by the manner in which Lloyd’s class ships, she will fully
+  stand A 1 with mine.
+
+  I contend that it is the duty of Government so to legislate that their
+  artisans should have employment, and any act which deprives them of
+  it, must be detrimental to the nation. That is my firm belief. I must
+  apologise for occupying your columns, but, as you first mentioned the
+  circumstance of my workmen, I thought it right to state the reasons. I
+  am, sir, yours,
+
+                                                WM. MOORE, Shipbuilder.”
+
+
+There is more than this. Messrs. Lindsay & Co. have published a table of
+freights for the last four years, which exhibits an average decline
+ranging from thirty-five to fifty per cent. The following are a few
+notable instances:—
+
+                                      s. d.   s. d.
+                     Singapore,  from 105 0 to 60 0
+                     Calcutta,        117 6    77 6
+                     Hong Kong,       105 0    55 0
+                      (last quotation from there)
+                     Bombay,           95 0    60 0
+                     Ceylon,           95 0    70 0
+                     Mauritius,        84 0    60 0
+                     Callao,           95 0    63 0
+                     Havannah,         85 0    47 6
+                     Odessa,           95 0    42 6
+                     Alexandria,       12 0     5 6
+                     Cronstadt,        32 6    19 0
+                     Quebec,           47 6    32 0
+
+This decline of freights deeply concerns the agriculturist, since it
+unsettles even those loose and incorrect calculations, which were
+brought forward by the Free-traders for the purpose of proving that high
+freights must necessarily act as a powerful check to the importation of
+foreign corn, in the event of the abolition of the duties.
+
+The challenge so confidently made has been accepted in another quarter.
+At the great Wiltshire meeting held at Swindon on the 6th February, Mr
+George Frederick Young spoke as follows:—
+
+
+  “Another point which has been taken as a kind of _cheval de
+  bataille_—a sort of hobby-horse which the Ministers were determined to
+  ride—I am somewhat familiarly acquainted with; I allude to the
+  shipping interest. As they have brought that interest so prominently
+  before parliament, I may, perhaps, be allowed to correct their
+  statements when they are at fault. What were we told about the
+  shipping interest in the House of Lords? I thought that they might
+  have managed to get up returns, to answer the purpose of the occasion,
+  of a somewhat specious character, extending over a large surface,
+  before they asked the house to come to a conclusion. But what did they
+  do? They said that the shipbuilding interest is in a most prosperous
+  state; and that it is prosperous, they deduced from the fact that
+  there were 90 ships building in the port of Sunderland on the 31st of
+  December last. It is the truth that that was the case at that time,
+  but it is not the whole truth; and the whole truth is, that though
+  there were 90 ships building in that great shipbuilding port, 24 of
+  them only were sold, whilst 66 were standing, 31 of them being ready
+  to launch, but could not get purchasers. I find also, that out of 251
+  ships which were building at the several shipbuilding ports at that
+  date, there were but 66 sold, making nearly 200 out of the 250 that
+  could not obtain purchasers, (hear, hear.) Is that fair? (cries of
+  ‘no,’ and cheers.) Is that the way in which a great public question is
+  to be supported by the Ministers of the Crown? Yet these gentlemen
+  have not thought it to be beneath them to stoop to such paltry
+  prevarication for the purpose of misleading the parliament, (great
+  cheering.) But I will give you yet another instance, which is even
+  more pregnant still. In the course of the debate on the Address in the
+  House of Commons, Mr Labouchere made use of these words in reference
+  to the shipping interest:—‘This was a subject in which he naturally
+  felt the greatest interest, and which he had looked into with the
+  utmost care. He had never made an assertion in that house with greater
+  confidence, and he challenged contradiction’—most unusual on the part
+  of a Minister of the Crown—‘on the part of any mercantile man, or
+  gentleman interested in shipping, when he stated his belief that the
+  industry of shipbuilding—that the confidence of the mercantile public
+  in shipowning—that the whole business of the country connected with
+  shipbuilding and shipowning, was in a state the most satisfactory and
+  encouraging to those who did not believe that they were paralysing
+  that important branch of industry by the measures of last session.’ I
+  will not affect to conceal the part which I took upon reading these
+  words. I viewed the statement with indignation. I knew that it was not
+  a fact; and on Saturday morning, the instant I had seen it in the
+  paper, I drew up this declaration, which was advertised in all the
+  daily journals of London on Monday morning:—
+
+  “‘We the undersigned shipowners and others connected with the building
+  and equipment of ships in the port of London, having observed with
+  much surprise that in the debate on the Address in the House of
+  Commons on the 1st inst., the right hon. the President of the Board of
+  Trade confidently stated, and ‘challenged contradiction on the part of
+  any gentleman interested in shipping, that the whole business of the
+  country connected with shipbuilding and shipowning was in a state the
+  most satisfactory and encouraging,’ consider it a duty to declare our
+  conviction that the statement of the right honourable gentleman must
+  have proceeded from misinformation, and is entirely erroneous. We
+  declare that the shipping interest is, on the contrary, at this moment
+  in a state of great depression, no employment being obtained for
+  British ships offering any reasonable prospect of remuneration for the
+  capital embarked and the expenses to be incurred; that the accounts
+  from all the great shipping ports of the world announce a
+  superabundance of tonnage and extremely low rates of freight,
+  rendering the prospect for the present year most discouraging, and
+  that the various trades connected with shipping consequently and
+  necessarily participate in the general depression; and we make this
+  declaration without any party or political motive, and entirely
+  without reference to the causes that have produced the depression we
+  describe, in the desire alone that the legislature and the public
+  should be truly informed as to the real facts of this important
+  question, which appear to be misunderstood by her Majesty’s
+  Government.’
+
+  “I will tell you the result. That declaration was advertised to lie at
+  the London Tavern on Monday, Tuesday, and to-day; and upon the very
+  first day it received the signatures of several hundreds of the most
+  eminent men connected with this branch of our national industry, and
+  from among whom I will undertake to say I can pick out twelve names of
+  men who are owners of not less than 100,000 tons of British shipping
+  (cheers.) That the President of the Board of Trade should venture to
+  make such a statement, and challenge contradiction from any one, is, I
+  think, most extraordinary. Is it not calculated to produce this
+  effect—that statements made by the Ministers of the Crown, with
+  whatever confidence, will be received with a little doubt and
+  distrust, and that though they come even from so upright and
+  honourable a man as Mr Labouchere, it will be necessary to
+  substantiate them by something better than mere assertions of belief?”
+
+
+We are sorry that Mr Labouchere should have committed himself so far.
+His personal character is beyond suspicion; and we do nothing more than
+express the universal feeling of his political opponents when we say,
+that no one will prefer against him the charge of having made a wilful
+misrepresentation of this nature. But it is the curse of men high in
+office, that they are surrounded by subordinates, whose share of
+honourable scruple is of the most convenient elasticity, and who
+sometimes have a substantial interest in the verification of their
+hazarded opinions. To this kind of influence Mr Labouchere is peculiarly
+subjected. The returns on which he founded, with so rash a confidence,
+had evidently passed through the hands of some veteran statist and
+figure-monger, and been adapted to suit an immediate purpose, rather
+than to conform to the actual truth. On no other hypothesis can we
+account for so strange a perversion of fact; for we believe that, after
+the evidence cited above, no man, whatever may be his political
+opinions, will hold that the commerce of the nation is not materially
+depressed, instead of being, as Ministers represented it, flourishing
+beyond all precedent.
+
+We next come to the manufacturing interest, which assuredly ought to be
+in a most prosperous condition. In the course of the bygone year,
+tranquillity was restored on the Continent, and the interrupted markets
+were opened with every prospect of a fair demand. Notwithstanding the
+fall of prices, it might have been supposed that agricultural depression
+had hardly time to react upon the home market; and food was cheaper than
+perhaps it has been in Britain within the memory of man. Yet, with all
+these advantages, it is by no means certain that our manufactures are in
+a sound condition. The official tables indeed exhibit a large increase
+of exports, but these tables are quite useless as exponents of actual
+value. No later than last session, Sir Robert Peel gave a decided
+testimony on this point.
+
+
+  “Let me observe,” said he, “that nothing can be more unsafe than any
+  inference drawn from the returns which give the declared value of
+  manufactures imported. Owing to the manner in which the accounts of
+  imports and exports are prepared, arguments drawn from that source
+  must be exceedingly fallacious.”
+
+
+The _Liverpool Standard_, applying itself to the statistics of the
+cotton trade, has done good service in exposing the nature of the export
+returns. According to the official statement, there would appear to be
+an increase of nearly £4,210,000 in the exports of cotton manufactures
+and yarn; but the _Standard_, going to the fountainhead, has shown that
+the increase in the entire quantity of cotton _spun_ in Great Britain in
+1849, was only a little over one-twelfth of the previous year’s
+consumption. The conclusions of our contemporary are very forcible:—
+
+
+  “_We place no confidence whatever now in these customs reports. Since
+  the abolition of the half per cent duty on exports_, there is nothing
+  in the world to prevent goods being entered at any prices the shipper
+  pleases. A bale of cotton and other goods may be valued at £5 or £500,
+  without incurring a farthing of increased charges at our ports; and,
+  without imputing to any party the wish to do a moral wrong, and to
+  make out a favourable case in behalf of a particular policy, it is
+  enough to throw discredit upon returns, thus left unprotected against
+  error, to know that extensive malversation can be carried on.”
+
+
+When we turn for information to the manufacturing districts, we find
+some mills working on short time, and less employment generally diffused
+than might be expected in an average year. We hear of nothing but the
+most gloomy anticipations, contrasting very strangely, indeed, with the
+triumphant language of Ministers. The depression is not confined to the
+remoter towns; it exists in Manchester itself, as will be seen from the
+following statement—the last which has reached us—from the great
+manufacturing capital:—
+
+                   (From the _Manchester Guardian_.)
+
+
+  “MANCHESTER, Tuesday, Feb. 12.—We have had a spiritless and rather
+  drooping market. The merchants have shown a growing indisposition for
+  business; looking upon prices as, for the most part, too high to
+  warrant further exports in the present state of supplies in foreign
+  markets. The letters received this morning from Germany give
+  quotations of prices which afford no encouragement for the immediate
+  resumption of operations. There has been some inquiry from the Greeks,
+  but with little result. As to the home dealers, seldom have they been
+  so little seen in the warehouses of the manufacturers. There is
+  evidently a diminished confidence among all classes of buyers as to
+  the maintenance of prices; and a determination to proceed cautiously,
+  buying only for the supply of the most pressing wants, is become
+  general. The business of the day has, consequently, fallen in amount
+  below that of any Tuesday for some time back. Under these
+  circumstances, those spinners and manufacturers whose contracts are
+  drawing to a close have shown a willingness to make some concession in
+  price rather than suffer an offer to pass by them. Water twist may be
+  quoted ⅛d. to ¼d. lower; and in mule yarn the buyer has some advantage
+  in price, except as to fine counts, from No. 60’s upwards. In printing
+  cloths, there is a giving way of about 1½d. per piece, and 3d. in
+  shirting. There is a difference in point of firmness, however, among
+  spinners and manufacturers, and a corresponding irregularity is
+  observable in the quotations. The spinners of water twist, and the
+  manufacturers of domestics, T’s, and some other stout cloths, are so
+  much discouraged by the little prospect there is of an improvement in
+  the unfavourable trade they have so long experienced, that many of
+  them are seriously intending to diminish their production. One or two
+  establishments in Manchester have either stopped altogether or
+  resorted to short time, and an attempt is being made to induce a
+  general adoption of the latter measure in these branches of
+  manufacture. At Rochdale two or three mills have taken one or other of
+  the above courses; and we have before us the names of seven firms at
+  Heywood who have limited the hours of work in their mills.
+
+  “STATE OF TRADE.—MANCHESTER, Thursday.—We have no improvement since
+  Tuesday. The demand, whether for cloth or yarn, is not equal to the
+  production, and prices, consequently, tend still in favour of the
+  buyer. Indeed, no considerable sales could be effected without
+  material concessions in price.”
+
+
+Reading such an account as this, we feel perplexed as to the meaning
+which the Ministry attach to their favourite term prosperity. We are
+almost tempted to suppose that they consider want of employment the
+greatest possible blessing which can befall the labouring man.
+
+This account, it will be observed, is dated posterior to the opening of
+Parliament. We may therefore be told that the depression had no
+existence at the time when the royal speech was framed. Such was not the
+case. The depression was felt much earlier, as appears by the following
+extract taken from a favourite organ of the Free-traders. On 1st
+December last, the _Economist_ thus spoke of the cotton trade—
+
+
+  “At the beginning of this year, great expectations were entertained of
+  our home demand. It was argued, and with good reason, that we never
+  yet had a year of general employment and low prices of provisions
+  combined, which was not also a year of very large domestic consumption
+  of manufactured fabrics. This year labour has been in very brisk
+  request, and food has never been so cheap and plentiful since 1836.
+  Yet our expectations from these facts have not been fully answered.
+  The sellers of printing-cloths and medium shirtings report that their
+  home demand has, on the whole, been good; the sellers of domestics
+  report, on the contrary, a decidedly dull business, worse than that of
+  last year; but we believe that all agree that the anticipations with
+  which they began the year have by no means been realised. We suspect
+  the cause to be this:—The depreciation in railway property, the
+  effects of the Irish famine, and the commercial crash in 1847, have
+  impoverished all classes of the community to a much greater extent
+  than has been allowed for in the calculations of our tradesmen. We
+  question whether ‘the power of purchase,’ on the part of the British
+  community, is nearly equal to what it was in 1845.”
+
+
+We here perfectly coincide in opinion with the _Economist_. The power of
+purchase, on the part of the British community, is not nearly what it
+was in 1845; and for that diminution of power, he may thank the
+operation of the free-trade system. If the calculations of Mr Villiers
+are correct—if agricultural produce has depreciated to the extent of
+£91,000,000—there is no necessity whatever for recurring to Irish
+famine, railway losses, or commercial embarrassment, for an explanation
+of the unhealthy state of the home market. If we divide the population
+of the British islands, between agriculture and manufactures, in
+proportion to the ascertained number of those employed in either
+pursuit, we shall find that rather more than 18,700,000 are dependent on
+agriculture; whilst the number of those directly and indirectly drawing
+their livelihood from manufactures is short of 8,100,000.[10] Any blow
+levelled at the larger interest must perforce materially affect the
+lesser; and our decided conviction is, that the manufacturers have yet
+to learn, through adversity, a wholesome lesson. They have been taught
+to look to the foreign, or exporting trade, as their chief source of
+gain; and, in doing so, they have had to face a competition with other
+countries, which, in the course of a few years, has lowered their
+profits fully 50 per cent. They are still willing to go on, in the pure
+reckless spirit of gambling, caring nothing what social mischief they
+occasion, so long as they can deluge the markets of the world with their
+bales of calico and cotton. For this end, by an unholy and unprincipled
+combination, they have contrived to substitute foreign in place of
+British agricultural labour, whilst, with unparalleled selfishness, they
+reject all proposals for an equitable distribution of taxation.
+
+The annual amount of the manufacturing productions of this country is
+estimated at £178,000,000; and it is said that last year we have
+exported £58,000,000. If this be the case, there remain goods to the
+value of £120,000,000, to be consumed at home; and the amount of the
+actual consumption mainly depends upon the consumers’ power of purchase.
+Mr Villiers tells us that £91,000,000 have been _lost_ to the
+agricultural classes—for depreciation is neither more nor less than
+direct loss. It is an obvious fallacy to assume, as Mr Muntz does, that
+this sum is merely to be considered as transferred from one pocket of
+the community to another, as a note for five pounds might be. In the
+latter case, the capital represented by the note is not destroyed; in
+the former, the agricultural produce having been purchased and consumed
+at two-thirds of its productive cost, there is clearly a direct loss to
+the producing party. The annual amount of agricultural produce in this
+country was estimated, according to former average prices, at
+£250,000,000; and if this be accepted as true, or even an approximation
+to the truth, the estimate of Mr Villiers will show a depreciation of
+more than a third of the value. To that extent, therefore, the power of
+purchase in the home market is lessened; for if £120,000,000 of
+manufactures are made to be consumed at home, and the means of the
+consumers are reduced by £91,000,000, how is it possible that trade can
+remain in a prosperous condition?
+
+If the dependence of the prosperity of manufactures on the amount of the
+demand existing in the home market is admitted—and no man yet has
+attempted to deny that intimate relationship between the agricultural
+and the manufacturing classes—it will follow, as a clear deduction, that
+to curtail the means of the consumer is tantamount to limiting the
+demand. No body of men understood this more clearly than the leading
+agitators of the League. They knew perfectly well, that agricultural
+distress must react fearfully upon that numerous section of the
+manufacturers, who look solely to the home market for the regular
+consumption of their produce, and who supply the greater number of the
+retail dealers and shopkeepers, whose means of livelihood depend on
+their intervention between the makers of the fabric and the buyers.
+Those leading agitators were independent of the home trade. Their
+interest lay in pushing exports to the utmost, and in maintaining their
+hold of the foreign and distant markets, in spite of a fierce
+competition with France, Germany, and America. That competition had
+latterly become so serious and formidable, that, in order to maintain
+their ground, they found it necessary to devise some means whereby
+operative labour, already brought down to the lowest point of monetary
+wage, might be stimulated and sustained; and the only scheme available
+to them was the breaking up of the corn laws, which, in this
+highly-taxed country, with the accumulated burdens of more than a
+century and a half pressing upon it, afforded a necessary protection to
+the British agricultural labourer. For no one can deny that the
+producers of corn are, like all others, subject to taxation; and all
+taxation, whether direct or indirect, must be added to the price of the
+fruits of labour. This was just what the corn laws effected. The
+consumer paid for the taxation when he purchased the article; and in no
+branch of industry or trade is another rule recognised. There is a
+natural price, and an artificial price. The natural price of corn is
+that for which it can be grown in this country, deducting labour and the
+grower’s profit, but without any burdens of taxation at all. The
+artificial price is that which is charged for the produce to the
+consumer, when the taxation falling upon the land, for state purposes,
+is added to the natural price. By the repeal of the corn laws, the
+consumer escaped this taxation, and the whole burden was thrown on the
+producer and the labourer, who, in consequence of superior natural
+advantages possessed by the foreigner, can be undersold by him even at
+the natural price, and who yet are called upon to bear the whole of the
+artificial cost.
+
+Such a scheme as this—one so manifestly unjust, not only to the
+agriculturists, but to the manufacturers and the shopkeepers, whose
+whole dependence was on the home consumers—would never have been carried
+into execution, had its inevitable results been honestly laid before the
+public. But there was no honesty in these men. They were fighting a
+desperate game, without regard to the general interest of the country,
+so that they could be the individual gainers; and they fought it, as
+gamblers will do, unscrupulously, falsely, and dishonestly. They durst
+not have hinted that the immediate effect of the repeal of the corn laws
+would be a large and permanent depreciation of the value of agricultural
+produce. Had they done so, the tradesmen and retail dealers whom they
+chiefly aimed to dupe—because the electoral influence of that class is
+immensely large—would at once have seen, that, by limiting the general
+power of their customers to purchase, they were, in fact, depriving
+themselves of so much of their former profit. Shopkeepers and tradesmen
+do not live by the export trade: they maintain themselves and their
+families by distributing the products of labour among the community; and
+their gains, as well as those of the artisan, are measured by the amount
+of custom which they receive. Any legislative change, therefore, which
+could have the effect of diminishing that custom in a serious degree,
+would necessarily be most detrimental to the interests of this class—a
+proposition so clear, that no effort of political jesuitry could
+disguise it. The corn-law repealers knew this, and accordingly they
+rested their case on different grounds. They maintained that the
+abolition of the duties on corn would not, and could not, have the
+effect of curtailing the means or the revenue of the producer. They
+professed that their sole object was to prevent extravagant fluctuations
+in price; and they were quite as touching and lachrymose in the pictures
+which they drew of the evils certain to arise from a range of low
+prices, as in those descriptive of the opposite extreme. Let us again
+refresh ourselves with a few sentences from the work of Mr James
+Wilson—sentences which afford good ground for hope that, upon the next
+agricultural division, we may find the member for Westbury using his
+best endeavour to repair some of the mischief which recent legislation
+has inflicted. The reader will bear in mind that Mr Wilson distinctly
+enunciated 52s. 2d. to be the proper price for wheat, at which an
+exactly sufficient amount of production would be kept up.
+
+
+  “It never can be advantageous for the community at large that they
+  should consume the produce of any one party below the cost of
+  production; for a period is not very far distant when the consequences
+  must react, and infallibly produce high prices and great scarcity; and
+  we will show that the evils of the reaction are far greater than any
+  advantage derived from the low prices.”—_Influences of the Corn Laws_,
+  p. 28.
+
+
+Again:
+
+
+  “Our belief is, that the whole of these generally received opinions
+  are erroneous; that if we had had a free trade in corn since 1815, the
+  average price of the whole period, actually received by the British
+  grower, would have been higher than it has been; that little or no
+  more foreign grain would have been imported; and that if, for the next
+  twenty years, the whole protective system shall be abandoned, _the
+  average price of wheat will be higher than it has been for the last
+  seven years_, (52s. 2d.,) or than it would be in the future with a
+  continuance of the present system; but with this great difference,
+  that prices would be nearly uniform and unaltering from year to year;
+  that the disastrous fluctuations would be greatly avoided, which we
+  have shown in the first proposition to be so ruinous under the present
+  system.”—P. 56.
+
+
+Perhaps we cannot better illustrate this part of our subject, than by
+transcribing the second “proposition” laid down by the present Secretary
+of the Board of Control. It is so unambiguous in its terms that we are
+saved the necessity of a commentary. Mark, and perpend!
+
+
+  “PROPOSITION THE SECOND.—That the agricultural interest has derived no
+  benefit, but great injury, from the existing laws; and that the fears
+  and apprehensions of the ruinous consequences which would result to
+  this interest by the adoption of a free and liberal policy with
+  respect to the trade in corn, are without any foundation: THAT THE
+  VALUE OF THIS PROPERTY, INSTEAD OF BEING DEPRECIATED, ON THE AGGREGATE
+  WOULD BE RATHER ENHANCED, AND THE GENERAL INTERESTS OF THE OWNERS MOST
+  DECIDEDLY BENEFITED THEREBY.”
+
+
+We presume that we need go no further in illustration of the line of
+argument adopted by the exporting manufacturers and their adherents, for
+the purpose of persuading the tradesmen and artisans that the repeal of
+the corn laws could not in any way affect the consumers’ power of
+purchase.
+
+In dealing with the state of the manufacturing interest, we must never
+lose sight of the fact, that enlarged exports furnish no proof whatever
+of the prosperity of the home trade. We shall not go the length of
+adopting a hypothesis, plausibly enough put forward, that increased
+exports are a natural result of deficiency in the home demand; that
+where any sudden stimulus is given to a market abroad, goods originally
+intended for British consumption, but not taken out of stock, are
+shipped on speculation, and thus augment the declared value of the
+exports. We shall not make any averment of the kind, however probable it
+may be—simply because it is not in our power, or that of any man in the
+country, to prove such an allegation as the general rule. But so far as
+we can gather, from the voice of the public press, there would appear to
+be little room for exultation in the present prospects of manufactures.
+The agricultural depression is yet recent, and its reaction on
+manufactures, though it began in 1849, will probably not be felt in its
+real intensity until the present year is well advanced. In estimating
+the prosperity of manufactures, what we must look to are the wages and
+the condition of the labourer. The individual profits of the masters are
+secondary to this consideration; and we shall now proceed to examine
+whether cheap food has fulfilled its chief recommendation in bettering
+the condition of the operatives.
+
+In a single number of the _Birmingham Mercury_ for 2d February, now
+lying before us, we find four separate letters upon this important
+subject. The first is from the operatives’ committee of the glass-trade,
+in which they state that “never was there more flint glass manufactured
+than there is at the present time, and never did the operatives receive
+less than they do at present for the quantity of work made.” The second
+is from a person engaged in the pin-trades, also complaining of low
+wages. The third is an indignant remonstrance from an operative against
+recent prosperity-statements, in which he says, “the condition of the
+workmen is such at the present time, that it is important to them to
+have their condition truly represented, devoid of that colouring which,
+while it would please some manufacturers, would to the workmen possess
+no charm whatever. Where a writer’s heart is, there also will his
+leaning be; and I feel convinced that no operative in this town could
+fail to see which way these articles incline. Obtaining information from
+masters about men, and publishing it like accounts from a house
+proprietor about his houses, or from a farmer about his cows, does not
+suit those workmen who think, and feel, and wish to be treated in a
+manner due to their position as producers of articles ministering to the
+comforts and conveniences of mankind at large.” The fourth proceeds from
+the committee of the gun-trade, stating that “the year 1849 has perhaps
+been unparalleled in the history of our trade; for the general
+depression of our prices, and the suffering of the working men, with the
+shortness of work, and the very low price at which that work has been
+done, have reduced us to the most pitiable condition which working and
+industrious men could be brought to.” Surely these letters are
+inconsistent with the statement of Mr Villiers, that “when he looked to
+the working classes, he was gratified to find that both manufacturing
+and agricultural labourers were either receiving a higher rate of wages,
+or were able to command a better supply of the comforts of life with
+their former wages.” Within ten days after that speech was made, an
+operative strike began at Nottingham. The following letter, addressed
+to, but not published in, the _Times_, appeared lately in the _Morning
+Herald_, and remains, so far as we know, uncontradicted:—
+
+
+                      “_To the Editor of The Times._
+
+  “Sir,—I have read with great interest your able exposures of the
+  butchers and other tradesmen of the metropolis. Will you, with your
+  usual impartiality, give the following facts for free-traders a corner
+  in your journal:—The wages paid in the factory of Messrs Marshal, at
+  Shrewsbury, before and after free trade came into operation, are as
+  follows:—
+
+                                    1846.       1849.
+                                 Protection. Free Trade.
+               Mechanics,           £1  5  0    £0 18  0
+               Overlookers,          1  0  0     0 14  0
+               Thread-polishers,     0 12  0     0  8  0
+               Boys,                 0  8  0     0  6  0
+               Female reelers,       0  6  0     0  4  8
+
+  “Messrs Marshal are among the most extensive manufacturers in the
+  kingdom, and this may be taken as a fair specimen of what has been
+  generally done. I should be sorry to make one comment on these facts,
+  but leave it to the judgment of the public to decide whether the
+  operatives of this country, or the manufacturers who employ them, have
+  reaped the benefit of that cheap bread which they promised to the
+  labouring population; and whether what they gave with one hand in the
+  shape of bread, they do not more than take with the other by so large
+  a reduction of wages.—I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,
+
+                                                          JOHN PHILLIPS.
+
+  “Winsley, near Shrewsbury, Jan 22.”
+
+
+As to the condition of the agricultural labourers, it would really
+appear to be needless to enter upon that point. The cry of suffering and
+distress is universal throughout the length and breadth of the land. How
+can it be otherwise, when every cargo of foreign grain sent to our
+shores is in effect so much untaxed foreign labour introduced to beat
+down the wages of the working man? Mr Bonnar Maurice, at a late meeting
+at Welshpool, thus described the present condition of the agricultural
+labourers of England:—
+
+
+  “But there was another class—from their numbers a very important
+  class—and if they took (as they might fairly do) the well or ill doing
+  of that class as an indication of the prosperity or otherwise of the
+  country generally, it was indeed a _most_ important class—he meant the
+  labouring class. They were promised that free trade was to bring
+  within their reach comforts and luxuries which they had not even
+  dreamt of. How was it now with them? Take first the agricultural
+  labourer. A short time ago he was earning 9s. or 10s., or in some
+  counties 12s. a-week; his wife could earn 5s. or 6s., and his boy (if
+  he had one eleven or twelve years of age) about the same. Now numbers
+  are without employment at all; numbers can obtain only occasional
+  employment; and those who are in constant work must be satisfied with
+  7s. or 8s., and in some places with not more than 6s. a-week, and with
+  little or no aid from their wives and families. With other labourers
+  the case is no better—their employment is becoming more and more
+  scarce; the effects of an unfair competition are reducing the means of
+  giving employment; and those who are suffering from such effects are
+  accordingly lessening the number of their labourers, and reducing
+  their establishments. Thus, scarcity of employment, combined with
+  reduction of wages, is the blessing which free trade brings to the
+  labourer. And so it must be; for what is the real principle of free
+  trade but the unfair encouragement of the foreigner at the expense of
+  the British labourer, the taking away employment from the labourers of
+  our own country, and the giving that employment to the foreigner?”
+
+
+In Scotland matters are no better. We have many instances of proprietors
+compelled by the decline of rents to abandon the improvement of their
+estates, and to relax that employment which was formerly given to
+labour. This is a great calamity; since it must inevitably tend to swell
+the poor-rate, already augmenting alarmingly. In the western districts
+the labour of Irish emigrants, forced from their own country by the same
+cause, and willing to work at the lowest possible rate of wage which
+will suffice to sustain existence, is supplanting that of our Scottish
+peasantry; and as the farmers are nearly driven to the wall by the
+unprecedented decline in the value of both corn and cattle, they cannot
+be blamed for putting into practice the noxious free-trade dogma, and
+availing themselves of labour at the cheapest rate. If this state of
+matters is to continue, the results may be terrible indeed. The
+legislature is bound to look to it in time; and, for the general safety,
+to take heed that the power of labour of the working man, which is his
+sole capital, is not tampered with too far. We cannot refrain from
+making another extract from the pages of Mr Wilson, who deprecates
+agricultural depression upon the express ground of its pernicious effect
+upon the condition and morals of the labourer. Any fall below 52s. 2d.
+per quarter of wheat, Mr Wilson estimates as depression. The present
+averages are under 40s., with no prospect of a rise:—
+
+
+  “It must be obvious that the tendencies experienced by the farmer must
+  immediately influence the labourers he employs. In his successful or
+  advancing years, a good demand exists for labour, and either attracts
+  or retains more to this pursuit than on an average it is capable of
+  maintaining; and thus we find, when the period of diminished
+  cultivation arrives, the strongest evidences of surplus labour, as of
+  surplus stock—distress to a painful degree becomes the lot of the
+  hard-working tiller of the ground, whose only desire is for ‘_leave to
+  toil_;’ but, like his master, he had already toiled too much, and too
+  unprofitably. Ignorant of the real causes of his distress, driven to
+  pinch and want, he becomes too readily the victim of vicious and
+  designing men, and has recourse to many acts of violence and
+  injustice, which, instead of mending his case, can only tend to make
+  it still worse.
+
+  “No one can have forgot the terror and dismay which, from this cause,
+  spread through our usually quiet and peaceful rural districts a few
+  years ago, when the agricultural interest was severely depressed; the
+  awful and mysterious midnight fires, which frequently lighted up a
+  whole district at the same moment, consuming the very means of
+  subsistence; anonymous letters followed up by all their threatenings;
+  secret societies to fan and inflame the worst passions; highway
+  robberies and personal attacks; outrages of every description; and all
+  perpetrated by men whose ignorance and misery (from causes over which
+  they had no control) were really much more apt to excite our pity than
+  our blame. But how insensibly all these evidences have vanished with a
+  return to prosperity, although it is impossible that they have not
+  left behind a population of a lower and more debased standard of
+  morals! They are now as quiet as ever, _but the return of distress to
+  their employers will not fail to reduce them once more to a similar
+  condition_.
+
+  “It should also be remarked, _that this distress cannot fail naturally
+  to increase the poor-rates_, and the charges of maintaining good
+  order, which must act as a distinct cause of reducing the rents and
+  income of farmer and landlord. In some instances these charges have
+  pressed so heavily at particular times, as to consume the whole rent,
+  and to render land of little or no value, which would otherwise have
+  let at a fair average rate.”
+
+
+We also learn from Mr Wilson, that extreme cheapness is the reverse of a
+benefit to the manufacturing operative, inasmuch as it induces habits of
+luxury which are by no means suited to his welfare. It is not impossible
+that this view may have led to that salutary reduction of wages, which
+seems, at the present moment, to be taking place throughout the
+manufacturing districts of England, and that the diminished supply of
+money is intended to check that inordinate appetite for cheap loaves and
+bacon, which is naturally enough engendered by the foreign untaxed
+supplies pouring in to supersede the production of the home labourer,
+and to drive him gradually to the workhouse. The member for Westbury
+says:—
+
+
+  “With the manufacturing labouring classes similar effects occur at
+  opposite periods, when the necessaries of life are pressed to the
+  highest point: they are introduced, _in the years of ruinous
+  cheapness_, to habits of comparative luxury and consumption which
+  their labour cannot, on an average, command; and they, therefore, feel
+  much more the want occasioned by extreme high prices, when they cannot
+  command so much as their labour should produce to them. So the effect
+  is, that _in cheap years his labour commands too much agricultural
+  labour_, and he thus anticipates a part of what should be the
+  consumption of a future day; and in dear years his labour commands too
+  little agricultural labour, and he is obliged to receive
+  proportionably as much too little as before he received too much.”
+
+
+We are decidedly of opinion that there is much sound sense in the above
+extract. We never have known a year so characterised by _ruinous
+cheapness_ of all kinds of provisions as that which has just gone by;
+the present year holds out no prospect of improvement, but rather
+indicates a farther decline; and therefore we are not without hope that
+this important point may be worked out at greater length in the columns
+of the _Economist_.
+
+The question of wages has led us into a slight digression. Our immediate
+topic was the dependence of the manufacturers, or at least a large
+section of them, upon the purchase power of the community; and we have
+already shown, by the evidence of our opponents, that, in so far as the
+agriculturists are concerned, their aggregate produce, which constitutes
+their means, has been diminished by one-third. Now, it must be
+remembered that _the cost of production_ falls to be deducted altogether
+from the remaining two-thirds; and that, in the lost third was contained
+the greater part of the surplusage or profit, which afforded the means
+of commanding luxuries and superfluities. Of course any diminished power
+of purchase must tell against the manufacturers, by keeping up their
+stocks in hand, and lessening the necessity for production. But many of
+them, failing the home trade, have the chance of a market, though it may
+be a less profitable one, elsewhere. They can export on consignation if
+not on order; and late accounts from San Francisco, where bales of
+British goods are stated to be lying unwarehoused, and exposed to the
+weather without finding purchasers, show that the export mania may be
+carried beyond the verge of average recklessness. But the shopkeepers
+and tradesmen have no such alternative resource. They depend solely upon
+the consumers of Britain, and any material lowering of the value of home
+produce reacts upon them in the shape of lessened demand for all
+articles of luxury in which they deal, and upon the artisan in the form
+of diminished employment. It may be useful to lay before our readers Mr
+Spackman’s estimate of the total productions of this country, calculated
+on the most authentic data _before_ the commencement of the depression.
+
+                ANNUAL PRODUCTION OF THE UNITED KINGDOM.
+ Annual value of agricultural productions,                  £250,000,000
+ Annual value of manufacturing productions,    £177,184,292
+      From which deduct value of raw material,   50,000,000
+                                               ————————————  127,184,292
+ Annual value of product of mining interest,                  36,121,000
+ Annual value of profits of shipping interest,                 3,637,231
+ Annual income from Colonies, about                           15,000,000
+ Annual income from foreign trade,                            15,000,000
+ Annual income from fisheries, about                           3,000,000
+                                                            ————————————
+                    Total,                                  £449,942,523
+                                                            ————————————
+
+This constitutes the whole product of our national wealth. It is the
+substance of Britain, and from one or other of the above sources does
+every individual in the land derive his means of support. Out of these
+all taxation is paid: from these, all professional men, tradesmen,
+artisans, and dealers, derive their profit and their means. Hitherto, by
+all wise legislators, the interests of the two leading classes of
+producers have been considered indissolubly united. The agriculturist
+supplied the manufacturer with food, and to a considerable extent with
+raw material; and in return he took annually two-thirds of the
+manufactured productions. Our exports were exchanged for luxuries, or
+for articles which could not be produced at home, and the balance in our
+favour constituted the yearly increment of our wealth. What free trade
+proposes to do, and, indeed, has partially effected, is the dissolution
+of the dependence of the two great classes on each other. The
+manufacturer is invited to seek his food and raw material from the
+cheapest foreign source; the agriculturist to do the same with respect
+to foreign manufactures. But the two classes are not upon a par. The
+agriculturist cannot export any considerable portion of his produce,
+because he is greatly undersold by the cheap growers of the Continent
+and America. We observe that, last year, the whole of the exports which
+can be termed agricultural, were as follows:—
+
+                    Butter,                £210,604
+                    Cheese,                  24,912
+                    Wool, sheep and lambs,  535,801
+                                           ————————
+                                           £771,317
+
+This, it will be seen, is an infinitesimally small portion of our whole
+products. The manufacturer can export, though not to an extent
+corresponding to his powers of production. Manufactures have been
+cheapening year by year, in consequence of augmented foreign
+competition, and that struggle is likely to go on for years as fiercely
+as ever. To maintain the export trade in a competition which cannot end
+otherwise than disastrously, we have been called upon to sacrifice
+everything. This is the true secret of the lowered tariffs, of the
+unnatural policy which we have pursued towards our colonies, of the
+clamour for financial reform which has been so industriously raised.
+Without speculating as to future operations, which probably will include
+a direct attack upon the Monarchy and the National Debt, we shall simply
+draw the attention of our readers to this fact, that, for the sake of
+increasing the bulk of our exports by the annual value of three, four,
+or ten millions, (which we have _not achieved_, our exports last year
+being lower than those of 1845,) we have lowered the annual value of our
+home productions by ninety-one millions! And the men who have done this
+call themselves statesmen, and congratulate each other on the results of
+their singular sagacity!
+
+But, let the manufacturers do what they can, two-thirds of their
+produce, in round numbers £120,000,000, must still be consumed at home.
+The shopkeepers are the brokers of this amount of produce. And how is it
+to be consumed, if the great agricultural interest is to be broken up?
+No Free-trader alive can answer that question. We perfectly understand
+the virulence of their organs, and their wrath and rage at the
+unanswerable case which we have laid before the public in former papers;
+but no rage or wrath will extricate the Free-traders from their dilemma.
+They must now explain to the tradesmen and artisans the profitable
+nature of their scheme. They may take credit, if they please, for
+increased exportations to the amount of ten millions—let them debit
+themselves _per contra_ with ninety-one millions of decrease in the
+power of the home consumers to purchase, and then account to us for the
+defalcation. We have a high authority behind whom we shall retire for
+shelter, if again assailed. That redoubted political economist, Mr James
+Wilson, must in common consistency put forth his ægis before us, and
+defend, lion-like, his original proposition, “that _individuals_,
+_communities_, or _countries_, can only be prosperous in proportion to
+the prosperity of the whole.”
+
+There are other considerations connected with the permanent depreciation
+of landed property in Great Britain, which are personal to almost every
+man belonging to the higher and middle classes of society. It has been
+far too hastily assumed that this is a mere proprietor’s question, or at
+least one in which the mercantile and professional classes have no
+direct interest. We propose, towards the conclusion of this article, to
+examine that matter minutely: in the mean time we shall direct our
+attention to the official tables of the exports and imports for the last
+year, which have been thought so favourable to free trade, as almost to
+justify the celebration of a national jubilee.
+
+In 1848, our exports were short of forty-nine millions; this year they
+exceed fifty-eight. Such is their declared value; and though we must
+still hold with Sir Robert Peel, that these tables cannot be entirely
+relied on for accuracy, we shall consider them simply as they are given
+us.
+
+In order to estimate the real advantage which the country has derived
+from the adoption of free trade, it is necessary to revert to the
+condition in which we stood _before_ the Corn and Navigation Laws were
+repealed. No one, who reflects upon the state of the Continent in 1848,
+can be surprised that our exports have been augmented materially by the
+restoration of tranquillity. That augmentation has nothing whatever to
+do with free trade. The question which we must now consider is this—have
+we been materially benefited, or benefited at all, or the reverse, by
+the substitution of free trade instead of our former system? In order to
+ascertain that, we must institute a comparison between our situation
+anterior to free trade, and that which is now made the ground of
+Ministerial triumph. We shall, therefore, compare the exports and
+imports of the year 1845, the last protection year, with those of 1849.
+The fairness of this comparison will not, we presume, be disputed. And
+first, as to the exports:
+
+From Mr Porter’s Tables, (page 358 of the new edition,) we learn that
+the real or declared value of British and Irish produce and
+manufactures, exported in 1845, was £60,111,081. The Government tables,
+just published, give us the total declared value of the exports for 1849
+at £58,848,042. There is, therefore, a deficit of £1,263,039 in 1849, as
+compared with 1845. Mr M’Gregor, it will be remembered, told us that we
+were to have _an increase of two millions a-week_: the Government tables
+show us that we have a decrease of a million and a quarter a-year,
+comparing the one year with the other! We understand that the whole of
+the exports are included in the statement just issued. We can form no
+other conclusion from the large increase of the items inserted, and the
+small amount of some of them—for example, stockings—which are estimated
+at £1494 in 1849, in comparison with £39 in 1848; indeed, the words
+“total declared value,” admit of no other construction. So, then, our
+exports in the aggregate have not increased, but, on the contrary, have
+fallen off. We find the declared value of our principal textile exports
+to be as follows:—
+
+                                      1845.       1849.
+             Cotton manufactures,  £19,172,564 £18,834,601
+             ——  yarn,               6,962,626   6,701,920
+             Linen manufactures,     3,062,006   3,073,903
+             ——  yarn,               1,051,303     737,650
+             Woollen manufactures,   7,674,672   7,330,475
+             ——   yarn,              1,067,056   1,089,867
+                                   ——————————— ———————————
+                                   £38,990,227 £37,768,416
+
+The imports, however, are more valuable for our consideration. No idea
+of their comparative value can be formed from the tables; but the amount
+is set forth in bulk and number, and we believe our readers will feel
+astonished at the results. We shall first enumerate those articles which
+have been brought in to displace British produce.
+
+         Animals living, viz.—              1845.      1849.
+           Oxen and bulls,                     9,782     21,751
+           Cows,                               6,502     17,921
+           Calves,                               586     13,645
+           Sheep,                             15,846    126,247
+           Lambs,                                112      3,018
+           Swine and hogs,                     1,598      2,653
+                                          —————————— ——————————
+                  Total animals,              34,426    185,235
+         Bacon, cwt.,                             64    384,325
+         Beef, salted, not corned,             3,540    144,638
+         —   fresh, or slightly salted,          651      5,279
+         Pork, salted,                         1,461    347,352
+         —   fresh,                              133        924
+         Hams,                                 2,603      9,460
+                                          —————————— ——————————
+              Total of meats, cwt.,            8,452    891,978
+                                          —————————— ——————————
+         Butter, cwt.,                       240,118    279,462
+         Cheese,                             258,246    390,978
+         Eggs, number,                    75,669,843 97,884,557
+                                          —————————— ——————————
+         Corn—
+           Wheat, qrs.                       135,670  4,509,626
+           Barley,                           299,314  1,554,860
+           Oats,                             585,793  1,368,673
+           Rye,                                   23    256,308
+           Peas,                              82,556    285,487
+           Beans,                            197,919    483,430
+           Indian corn or maize,              42,295  2,249,571
+           Buckwheat,                          1,105        308
+           Beer or bigg,                                  1,749
+                                          —————————— ——————————
+                Total grain, qrs.,         1,344,675 10,710,012
+                                          —————————— ——————————
+         Wheat meal or flour, cwt.,          630,255  3,937,219
+         Barley meal,                                       224
+         Oatmeal,                              2,224     40,055
+         Rye meal,                                       24,031
+         Pea meal,                                          300
+         Bean meal,                                           2
+         Indian corn meal,                              102,181
+         Buckwheat meal,                                  1,095
+                                          —————————— ——————————
+           Total flour and meal, cwts.,      632,479  4,105,107
+
+These are the free-trade importations which are ruining the British
+agriculturist. This is the kind of competition which he is called upon
+to face, with a heavier load of taxation pressing upon him than is known
+in any other country in the world.
+
+We shall probably be told, however, that this enormous supply of cheap
+food has enabled the people to extend their consumption of articles of
+luxury to a large extent. Let us see how that matter stands. We select
+the common luxuries, which are next to necessaries, for
+illustration,—and we also add another column, showing the quantities
+entered for consumption in 1848. By this our readers will be enabled to
+ascertain the increasing rate of demand for these articles.
+
+                               1845.      1848.      1849.
+          Coffee, lb.,       34,318,095 37,107,279 34,431,074
+          Tea,               44,183,135 48,735,696 50,024,688
+          Tobacco and snuff, 26,323,944 27,305,134 27,685,687
+          Wine, gallons,      6,986,846  6,369,785  6,487,689
+
+It will be observed, that of these articles there is no great additional
+consumption. We have excepted sugar from the above list, on account of
+the alteration of the duties since 1845. There was, however, less
+entered for home consumption in 1849 than in 1848, by 240,067 cwt.
+
+There appears to be nothing else in these tables which calls for special
+remark. They establish the fact that, under the operation of free trade,
+we have not yet been able to export as large an amount of manufactures
+as left this country in the last year of protection; a fact very
+suggestive, when we regard the enormous increase of the imports. The
+foreigner is supplanting our agricultural industry, without taking in
+return an augmented quantity of the produce of our manufacturers.
+
+We cannot, therefore, see that these returns afford us any ground for
+congratulation. We can draw no good augury for the future from the
+figures which appear on the import side of the account: on the contrary,
+they appear to us ominous of calamity and disaster.
+
+The large amount of bullion contained in the vaults of the Bank of
+England has been triumphantly referred to by the Free-traders as a
+proof, almost conclusive in itself, that the country is flourishing
+under the system of unrestricted importations; and the Protectionists
+have been taunted with the failure of their prediction, that a large
+import of foreign grain would drain the gold from Britain. These
+assumptions rest upon a most superficial view of the causes which have
+combined to restore bullion to the Bank during the last two years; and
+they argue a total forgetfulness of the calamitous monetary panic of
+1847, occasioned by the demand for gold to meet the large importations
+of foreign grain consequent upon the famine. The ruinous effects of the
+adverse state of the foreign exchanges upon our commercial and
+manufacturing classes, in 1847 and 1848, are matters of history; and the
+unprecedented advice given by the Government to the Bank, to charge
+_eight per cent_ on its advances, as well as the virtual abrogation of
+the Bank Act of 1844, are incidents in our mercantile annals too
+startling to be soon forgotten. It is not difficult, if we keep these
+things steadily in view, and also take into account the disturbed state
+of Europe for the last two years, to understand the reason why the
+returns of bullion have been so great.
+
+The principal sources of the steady accumulation of gold during the last
+two years, in the face of continued large imports of grain and
+provisions, may be enumerated as follows:—
+
+1st, The sale of foreign investments by parties in this country, and the
+stringent enforcement of all moneys due to them abroad.
+
+2d, Forced sales and consignments of British goods at prices ruinously
+low to the producers.
+
+3d, A considerable reduction in the stock of raw material.
+
+4th, A diminution in the quantity of gold coin required to carry on the
+internal trade and domestic expenditure of the country. This diminution
+has been caused by the fall of prices, whereby the same quantity of
+commodities is represented by less money—by the sudden limitation of the
+employment of labour—and by the reduced means of the people for ordinary
+expenditure.
+
+5th, Remittances from foreign countries, caused by the revolutionary
+movements in most of the Continental states.
+
+6th, The return of the absentees from abroad, whose expenditure has been
+estimated as high as £20,000,000. Allowing this to be a great
+exaggeration, and estimating it even at a third of the amount, the
+result becomes most important.
+
+7th, By other minor causes, amongst which we may particularise the
+return of sovereigns to this country from Belgium, in consequence of the
+alteration in the law which regulates the currency there.
+
+When we look to the operation of these causes, some of them being, from
+their nature, mere temporary expedients, and others arising from
+political movements over which we had no control, the existence of a
+large _balance_ of bullion in the coffers of the Bank of England ceases
+to be an index of the legitimate operations of trade. It is, in fact,
+nothing more than a balance. Without accurate data as to the quantities
+of the gold which have been sent into and again exported from this
+country during the last two years—data which our opponents have no wish
+whatever to see produced—it would be fallacious to assume that our
+increased imports of commodities have been met by our extended exports.
+Indeed, the Government accounts distinctly demonstrate that such is not
+the case. They prove that our imports are augmenting at a ratio to which
+the exports bear no manner of proportion; and no man, who will take the
+pains of considering dispassionately the foregoing tables, can doubt
+this. How, then, is the balance paid? Not certainly in goods; and if not
+in goods, in what other shape than money?
+
+The maintenance of the stock of bullion in the Bank depends solely upon
+the continuance or the recurrence of such unusual accidents as we have
+enumerated above. We have been large sellers of foreign funds and
+investments; and we have received from other countries, for the sake of
+security, important remittances of the precious metals. But until we can
+restore the balance of trade by raising our exports to the level of the
+imports, or by restricting the latter, which we are bound to do in every
+case where large branches of native industry can be affected, we cannot
+hope permanently to retain the treasure, except at a frightful
+sacrifice. Further sales and further deposits may combine to keep it
+here, even for a considerable period; but so soon as confidence is
+restored abroad, we must look for a steady drain. If our imports shall
+constantly exceed our exports, which is the tendency of our recent
+legislation, we shall be forced to correct the balance of trade by
+drawing upon the accumulations of our more prudent ancestors, who acted
+on different principles; and so long as the foreign investments of their
+wealth last us, we may be enabled to continue our spendthrift course,
+consuming more than we produce. But this must evidently have an end;
+and, long before that period, the annual diminution of our national
+means would be felt by all classes of society, and the war between the
+great bulk of the community and the money power would commence in
+terrible earnest.
+
+There are, we know, many people who, in spite of all the testimony which
+has been adduced, and the solemn declaration of the farmers that they
+cannot carry on cultivation at present prices, refuse to believe that
+the agricultural interest is virtually doomed to extinction. They say
+that the farmers are habitual grumblers, and they insinuate that this
+may be a false alarm. Now, as to grumbling, we suspect it would be
+impossible to find any body of men, who are exposed to constant
+fluctuations in the value of their produce, exempt from such a
+propensity; and we have heard, ere now, something worse than grumbling
+proceed from the throats of the manufacturers. But we ask those
+gentlemen whether, supposing America were to carry her avowed purpose
+into execution, and to stimulate her own population by converting the
+raw material of cotton into fabrics, instead of sending it four thousand
+miles across the Atlantic to be spun in Manchester,—and supposing that,
+in consequence, American calicoes could be offered in the British market
+at a price lower than the cost of the production of a similar article
+would be to Mr Cobden or Mr Bright—they imagine that the machinery of
+Manchester, Rochdale, and Staley Bridge, would still continue in motion?
+Does not common sense—does not all experience tell us, that a losing
+trade must be abandoned? And in order to show that agriculture is a
+losing trade, we need have recourse neither to farmers’ statistics nor
+to pamphlets, however valuable. We prove it out of the mouths of our
+adversaries. Here they are:—
+
+SIR ROBERT PEEL, in February 1842, estimated the proper remunerative
+price of wheat in this country, “allowing for natural oscillations,” as
+between 54s. and 58s.—on the average, 56s.; and stated, that he, “for
+one, would never wish to see it vary beyond these two specified values.”
+
+Mr JAMES WILSON, M.P. for Westbury, writing in 1839, stated it as his
+opinion, that the proper price of wheat was 52s. 2d.; and that, whatever
+average annual price the farmer received in any year less than that
+standard price, he made “so much distinct loss.”
+
+Sir CHARLES WOOD, Chancellor of the Exchequer, stated in January 1850,
+that he did not think “the agriculturist would be ruined with wheat at
+44s. a quarter.”
+
+THE AVERAGE PRICE OF WHEAT AT THE HADDINGTON MARKET, ON 8TH FEBRUARY,
+WAS 34S. 1D.
+
+We know, moreover, that sales of good wheat have been made in Scotland,
+since that time, at even lower prices.
+
+But is this state of things to continue? We say it must. It is a simple
+labour and taxation question. You expect the British labourer, who, in
+every commodity he consumes, pays taxes to Government, to compete with
+foreign serfs, who pay no taxes at all. You expect the British farmers
+and landowners to work a worse soil, in a more variable climate, to as
+much advantage as the foreign grower; and, moreover, to discharge a
+great portion of the public burdens of the state, to pay their full
+share of the interest arising from the expenses of every war in which
+Britain has been engaged since the Revolution of 1688; to support the
+national church, and to pay an undue proportion for the maintenance of
+the poor. The cost of cultivating 100 acres of British soil, in
+Hertfordshire, is estimated at £545—£1 per acre being allowed for rent.
+The cost of cultivating the same area, in Denmark or the northern states
+of Germany, is £324, 3s. 4d.—being £220, 16s. 8d., or 40 per cent,
+cheaper than in England. In this way, if we assume 50s. as the
+productive cost of British wheat, on an expenditure of £545, for the
+average here assumed, it will be seen that the expenditure of £324, 3s.
+4d. gives 29s. 8d. as the productive cost of German wheat; that the
+difference in the price of barley between the countries will be as 30s.
+to 18s.; and of oats, as 20s. to 12s.[11]
+
+This comparison is favourable to our opponents, because, in estimating
+the cost of British cultivation, a remarkably low rent is assumed;
+whilst, on the other hand, the wages of labour and other charges are
+greatly higher in Denmark and North Germany than in Russia, Poland,
+Wallachia, or Moldavia, from which countries we draw large supplies of
+grain. What hope is there of a rise of prices? Corn has been brought to
+its present low ebb by the importation, last year, of enormous supplies
+from the deficient Continental harvest of 1848. This year we are about
+to receive the discharge of a cornucopia filled to the very brim, in
+consequence of an unusually luxuriant crop. We have had experience of a
+bad year, and we are about to have experience of a good year, heralded
+by the following significant fact:—“_Bell’s Weekly Messenger_ states, on
+unquestionable authority, that, a few days ago, one of the principal
+City houses chartered several vessels at a freight of 6s. per qr., to
+load wheat at Odessa at 24s. per qr., free on board.” How long is this
+to go on? Is it proposed, by this precious Ministry of ours, that
+nothing is to be done until the whole capital of the tenant-farmers is
+squandered, and the soil has gone out of cultivation? Or are we to
+understand that nothing whatever will be done, should prices fall lower
+than now, or even remain at their present level? If the land goes out of
+cultivation, a large proportion of the whole annual production of Great
+Britain, giving at present employment to many thousands, must be
+directly sacrificed; the manufacturers would, in that event, be
+compelled to close their establishments for the want of a home market;
+and we should have no revenue left to pay the expenses of the cheapest
+kind of provisional government, far less the interest of the national
+debt. Are the Ministry really aware of what they are doing? According to
+their own admissions—according to the calculations of their
+supporters—according to the estimates of the leading Free-traders, the
+tenant-farmers are at this moment cultivating the soil at a prodigious
+annual loss. No possible reduction of rent can suffice to cure the evil,
+even if a reduction of rent, which would throw hundreds of thousands out
+of employment, were no evil in itself. And yet, in this state of
+matters, the Whigs have thought proper to issue a prosperity address,
+almost without qualification, in the name of their gracious Sovereign!
+
+We shall now entreat the attention of our readers to a point in which
+almost every man of ordinary means in this country is vitally
+interested. For a great many years the benefits to be derived from LIFE
+INSURANCE, as the best means of providing portions for families, have
+been acknowledged and largely sought. All classes have participated in
+these Assurances; and we believe that, in Scotland, it would be
+difficult to find any considerable number of professional persons, or
+tradesmen, who do not contribute to the funds of some of the numerous
+societies. We are not exactly aware what may be the method practised in
+England, but in Scotland by far the greater portion of the accumulated
+funds of these societies, amounting to many millions sterling, is lent
+on the security of the land. The value of the land, as every one knows,
+must in the aggregate depend on its productive power; and, if present
+prices are to rule, (and why they should not do so, under present
+legislation, no mortal man can tell us,) great tracts of the land of
+this country must go out of cultivation, and consequently be depreciated
+in value. In that case, how will the creditor fare? There is already a
+disposition shown, in some quarters, to make the creditor participate in
+the reduced income of the landed debtor. So hints Lord Drumlanrig, and
+he is not quite singular in his opinion. This is just repudiation; for
+could the idea be carried into effect, it would be necessary to apply
+the same rule to the principal as to the interest, and to provide that
+the lender of £100 under protection, should not be entitled to claim
+from his debtor more than £67 under the benign, just, and wholesome
+operation of free trade. Were this view to be adopted, and the
+adjustment made on the supposition that rents were only lowered by a
+third, the family of the man who has insured his life for £100, and
+regularly paid the premium, would lose rather more than £33. But a
+reduction of the whole rental of Great Britain and Ireland, to the
+extent of one-third, would amount to little more than £19,500,000,—a sum
+utterly insufficient to meet the depreciation, if we adopt the figures
+of Mr Villiers, or even if we make the largest allowance for
+exaggeration. The merest tyro in political science knows that land
+incapable of cultivation is comparatively worthless in price: we have a
+practical instance of that at present before us in Ireland, where
+estates have been actually abandoned by their owners. Now, if land at
+present under tillage should go out of cultivation, on account of the
+sale of the produce being inadequate to its cost—a catastrophe to which
+our northern districts are fast approaching—it must become, to all
+intents and purposes, waste; and the creditor who has lent money on its
+security will find that, instead of grain-bearing acres, he can take
+possession of nothing save a wilderness of heather and furze.
+
+Every man, therefore, whose life is insured, has a direct interest in
+the maintenance of the agricultural prosperity of the country. If _that_
+is not maintained, the provision which he has prudently made for his
+family is placed in extreme jeopardy, and free-trade legislation may
+utterly neutralise his thrift. Nor let him quarrel with the security,
+for there is none better. If the land goes down, the tenure of the
+existence of the Funds is worse than precarious. If the imports of
+foreign corn and provisions shall augment materially during the next two
+years, and if “the great experiment,” as it has been called, shall be
+persevered in so long, the fortunes and apparent destiny of this great
+country must be materially and radically altered. In any case, there
+must be a change, and a change of an important description. The
+unprincipled Currency Act of 1819 has yet to undergo a revision. In
+spite of _dilettante_ arrangements, and financial hocus-pocus,
+sedulously invented to blind the eyes of the community to the rottenness
+and peculation of our present monetary system, that matter must be
+thoroughly probed and examined by the aid of a clearer light than the
+lamp of the Jew Ricardo. But, for the present, it would be unwise to
+complicate the immediate question. Our stand is taken upon the broad
+basis of justice to native industry. We care not in what form or shape
+that industry is developed—whether it be applied to agriculture, trade,
+or manufactures—so long as it is industry seeking but its own, and
+disclaiming the selfish and sordid end of making an individual profit at
+the expense, and from the ruin, of other classes of the community.
+Sometimes, in calmly considering the course of our legislation for the
+last few years, this reflection irresistibly obtrudes itself—whether men
+have altogether lost the old feeling of patriotism and devotion, which,
+more than anything else, placed Britain in her proud position in the
+scale of the European nations? Certainly, when we read the speeches and
+harangues of the Free-traders, there is no trace of any such sentiment.
+They are cosmopolitans, not Britons: and, discarding the landmarks of
+the Almighty, they seem to hope that the laws of nature will be
+abrogated, and the doom of Babel reversed, by their own miserable
+efforts. Their sympathy is of a curious kind. They estimate foreign
+nations upon a scale founded on the consumption of calico; their notions
+of liberty undergo a material change, whenever raw cotton or cheap sugar
+become elements of the calculation of profit. They must have slavery
+abolished in the West Indian colonies: and yet, having ruined the
+planters, they are ready to take sugar on the cheapest terms which they
+dare offer from foreign slave-growing states, and to furnish them with
+clothing and machinery. Their capital, Manchester, and their principal
+seats of manufacture, depend for their existence on the continuance of
+Negro slavery in America, and not a man of these cosmopolitans dare
+raise his voice to denounce it. Why should he? He can gain popularity
+cheaper, by retailing gross falsehoods against unreciprocating European
+states, in every instance where Red Republicanism has reared its head,
+and been, most fortunately, suppressed. The British labourer has none of
+his sympathy—he cares not for him in his capacity of a fellow-subject.
+If the labourer is an agriculturist, our generous philanthropist would
+rather see him and his family condemned to the union-workhouse, than
+throw any obstacle in the way of increased serfage in Russia or in
+Poland. If the labourer is a manufacturer, the cosmopolitan spurns the
+laws enacted by the gentlemen of England for the protection of the women
+and children; and, availing himself of a verbal error, claims his right
+to work human beings, by relays, like cattle in his mill! And these are
+the men who now regulate the movements, and almost dictate the words, of
+our British statesmen! In the pages of British history, we meet with
+instances of degradation which we fain would see cancelled. We know that
+Charles II. was an acquiescent pensioner of the crown of France, and was
+content to remain so, at the hazard of the national honour. But we shall
+search history in vain for so mean a pandering as that which we have
+seen by Ministers to the interests of an upstart oligarchy—founded on
+the most perishable basis—scarcely disguising their hostility to the
+religion and the constitution of the land—trampling on the rights of the
+poor—denying the claims of Native Industry—and doing their utmost to
+make these great and glorious kingdoms the habitation of only two
+classes—one of them being the master-manufacturers, and the other, the
+operatives, whom they may tread at pleasure under their heel.
+
+
+          _Printed by William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh._
+
+-----
+
+Footnote 1:
+
+  _A Letter to the Queen on a Late Court-Martial._ By SAMUEL WARREN,
+  F.R.S. Barrister-at-Law. “I was constrained to appeal unto Cæsar.”
+
+Footnote 2:
+
+  “Captain Douglas delivered his defence, before the court-martial which
+  cashiered him, on his thirtieth birth-day.”
+
+Footnote 3:
+
+  In justice to Captain Douglas, we must here state, that he clearly
+  proved before the court-martial, that he withheld his statement for
+  two days before the Court of Inquiry, still under the impression that
+  it might be used to damage him in the proceedings before the civil
+  court. That he was justified in doing so is shown by an order from the
+  Horse Guards, 3d July 1809, expressly acknowledging the “right” of any
+  party, before a court of inquiry, “of declining to answer any
+  question, or to make any statement, which might, in his opinion, have
+  proved prejudicial to him in the course of any ulterior inquiry into
+  his conduct.” On the 28th November last also, we may remark that Sir
+  Charles Napier, in an order to the Indian Army, says, in reference to
+  a Court of Inquiry—“If any person happens to be accused of misconduct,
+  he is called on for his statement of the matter in hand, like any
+  other person: he may either appear or refuse to appear, as he pleases,
+  unless ordered by superior authority; and _either answer_ any
+  questions put to him, or _refuse_ to answer.”
+
+  If, in the face of these two orders, an officer is to be arraigned
+  before a court-martial for conduct “unbecoming the character of an
+  officer and a gentleman, in having omitted and neglected to make a
+  statement before a Court of Inquiry” which he thought would injure
+  himself, we must say they are a _snare and a delusion for the unwary_,
+  and ought to be expunged forthwith from the Order-books of the army.
+
+Footnote 4:
+
+  The only article of war, beside this, which could be supposed, for a
+  moment, to embrace the case, is the 108th, which says, that—“All
+  crimes not capital, and all disorders and neglects which officers and
+  soldiers may be guilty of, _to the prejudice of good order and
+  military discipline_, though not specified in the foregoing cases, or
+  in our Articles of War, shall be taken cognisance of by
+  courts-martial, according to the nature and the degree of the
+  offence.” But it is evident that this article applies to matters of a
+  military nature. If the merely moral delinquency of which Captain
+  Douglas is charged might be described as affecting “good order and
+  military discipline,” there is no act of a man’s life that might not
+  be designated in the same manner.
+
+Footnote 5:
+
+  “In the old articles of war the language used was scandalous and
+  infamous conduct, _such as is_ unbecoming the character of an ‘officer
+  and a gentleman.’”
+
+Footnote 6:
+
+  Capri.
+
+Footnote 7:
+
+  _The Pillars of Hercules; or, a Narrative of Travels in Spain and
+  Morocco in 1848._ By DAVID URQUHART, Esq. M.P. 2 vols. 8vo. London:
+  1850.
+
+  _Le Véloce; ou Tanger, Alger, et Tunis._ Par ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Vols. I.
+  and II. Paris: 1849.
+
+Footnote 8:
+
+  Alison.
+
+Footnote 9:
+
+  Spackman’s _Tables_, p. 185.
+
+Footnote 10:
+
+  SPACKMAN’S _Occupations of the People_. _Vide_ Synoptical Table.
+
+Footnote 11:
+
+  We are indebted for these calculations to a pamphlet entitled
+  _Observations on the Elements of Taxation, and the Productive Cost of
+  Corn_, by S. SANDARS, which we strongly recommend to the notice of our
+  readers, as one of the most able treatises on the subject which has
+  yet appeared.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+                          TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
+
+
+ ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
+ ● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last
+     chapter.
+ ● Erratum item was corrected.
+ ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75498 ***