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OCTOBER, 1840, AND JANUARY, 1841. 













Aet. L — Die Ri^iicken Pdpsie, ihre jEcr- 
ehe und ihr SUuU^ von Leopold Sanke. 
[The Ecclesiastical and General History 
of the Popes of Rome during the Six- 
teenth and Seventeenth Centuries.] 8 
vols. Berlin. 1834—1840. 

Tbb work before us in all respects evi- 
dences the great labour and unwearied toil 
bestowed upon it by its learned author. We 
can scarce help expressing both our re- 
gret and our pleasure that such pure sources 
of authentic information have been developed 
to one amply able to use them beneficially 
for all. We say regret, for who does not 
lament the limitation that does not enjoy the 
liberty of perusing MSS. amid numerous 
nations, on which but a few eyes could 
alight, calculated to use them with the faith 
of the annalist, the wisdom of the philoso- 
pher, and the piety of the believer. Berlin, 
Vienna, Venice, Rome, all have ministered 
to the immense mass of erudition before us. 
The Vatican, indeed, was not thoroughly 
searched, from some religious jealousy to a 
Protestant historian ; but the Borghese, Do- 
ris, Barberini, ancf numerous other private 
records, possibly more valuable than all the 
public documents, were opened with great 
liberality to the northern stranger. A 
work, filling up an hiatus that had existed 
too long, hu been the result of this laborious 
investigation.. In various passages we are 
led to think the writer incline to the Ro- 
manist, in others to the Protestant persuasion; 
yet he makes candid avowal in his preface 
of his Protestant views, with a spirit which | 

▼OL. XXVI* 1 

we most love to see roanifested in a writer 
of history : his eyes are neither closed to 
the imperfections of his own party, nor un* 
observant of the bright qualities that have 
adorned many pious Romanists. Justice is 
dealt out with evenhandedness on friend and 
foe. The fault, the leading fault of Etanke, 
is a tendency to view Protestantism tlistinet 
from Catholicism. In efifect they are the 
same. Protestantism and Romanism vary 
extremely, but the former does not essen* 
tially differ from Catholicism, which Roman- 
ism unquestionably does. The ConfessioD 
of Augsburgh negatives no tenet of Catho- 
licism. The stilisimpler confession of the 
persecuted Waldenses* retains every ele- 
ment of Catholicism. We shall have occa* 
sion to revert*more than once to this leading 
defect in our author. Ranke commences 
with showing that the Roman emperor 
united church and state in his own person ; 
but that Christianity emphatically distin- 
guished that which is Gkid's from that whksh 
is CsBsar's. We apprehend that Paganism 
and Romanism possessed similar features as 
absorbents, but that with the latter there 
was no existence of the state in any mixed 
question ; in such cases the church, like the 
rod of Moses, extinguished the inferior 
principle. The emperor, therefore, appear* 
ed mild in comparison with the ecclesiastic. 

• The modem reader of thie beaatiftil oohiikmI. 
tion most think with fearfal ihudderiDg on the 
declmntion of the leader of the expedition agaiut 
them : " We have spared neither age, nor sex, nor 
raiA ; we have smitten every one with the edge of 
the eword.*' 


Mank4*s Hisiory of the Popu of Rome. 


But ProtestaDtiam, we apprehend, asserting 
the agency of both, the union of both, draws 
closer on the Bible* which clearly distinguish- 
es between the church and the state. Pepin 
felt the inconvenience of a weak state title 
to his conquered possessions ; he sought to 
amend it by a religious sanction. The keys 
of conquered cities were laid by him on the 
altar of Saint Peter's, and hence arose the 
only power of the keys. The Bible pas- 
sages adduced in support of tliat power, as 
they are applied to all the apostles, cannot 
be limited to one. Charlemagne ratified 
the donations of I^epin ; they were then 
thankfully received; little did the uncon- 
scious successors of Qregory II. imagine 
that the time would ever arrive when the 
states of the church would be claimed by a 
king on the throne of Charlemagne^ on' the 
ground of this very donation, and no retreat 
conceded to the vassal pope from follawing 
the policy of his suzen^in. Charlemagne 
received in consequence the crown of the 
Western empire. But Charlemagne and 
his successor Lothaire considered the pope 
as substantially belonging to the French 
empire, as Ranke justly shows by the nomi- 
nation, on the part of the latter sovereign, of, 
his own judges at Rome, and annulling con- 
fiscations which the pope had imposed. But 
this notion was certamly hot one on which 
the pppes of succeeding centuries designed 
to govern — it was not held by him wbos6 
palfrey an emperor led, nor by him who 
Kicked off the emperor's crown in 1 19 1 . It 
was not the notion of 1450. But from the 
very assumption of high authority we may 
date its decline. Still assumption, supported 
by even an exterior of piety, would have 
protracted the papal power for centuries; 
out when the ecclesiastic possessed more 
than the ordinary failings of man, pretending 
to tenfold the virtues of his race combined, 
men's eyes, even in the mistiness of the 
fifteenth century, became opened to discern 
between good and evil * Some powerful 

* The Romanists spoke ont freely on this sub. 
lect, mud the eotrtest isngtmge of the Reformen 
liftrdlj eqoals the oebbimted ptssage in the •• In- 
S^m/Ot'* connected with the gift of Constsntine ^— 
** Pi Toi psstor s^sccorse *1 Vangelista. 
Qnando colei, che riede sovra 1* acque, 
Puttaneggiar eo' re^ a lai fa vista : 
Quella, che eon le lette teste nacque,. 
£ dalle dieoe coma ebbe aifomento/ 

Fin che virtute al suo marito piacqne, 
Fatto T* avete Deo d' bro e d' argento : 
£ che altro h da vol all' idolatre 
8e non eh* egli ano. e voi n* orate cento 1 
Ahi Coatantin, di qncnto mal fa matre 
Non la tua converrion, ma quella dole 
Che da ti press il prime rieeo patre.** 
^ Dant. lif, cant. 19. 

check was needed to the ordinary powers, 
or else the worship of India would have 
scarce been inferior to that of Christendom ; 
infallibility being assigned not simply to mer 
but monsters. 

** If plagaes or ear^iqnskes break not heaven^ de- 

Why then a Borgia or a Catiline^r* 

A compliment justly paid by Pope to the son 
of that disgrace of the fifteenth century 
Alexander VI., who ascended the papa 
throne in 149% and with whom we begic 
our view of our a«tb<^r's work, as he livec 
in the sixteenth also. Alexander had evi» 
dently no belief in another world, and there- 
fore determined to make the most of this. 
He was wise in his generation. MachiavelL 
says of him, ^* Non fece mai altro che ingan* 
nare uomini, nd mai pensb ad altro, e sem-^ 
pre trovd soggetto da poterio fare ; e non fu 
mai nomo che avesse maggiore efiicacia ic 
asseverare, e che con roaggiori giurament 
affermasse una cosa, 4 che I'osservassc 
meno ; nondimanco sempre gli succederono 
gli inganni ad votum, perchecoaosceva bene 
questaparie del mondo^ (Mach. II Principe. 
Firenze, 1831.) A naive confession . Ger. 
tainly both Pope Alexander and CsBsar 
Borgia possessed in an eminent degree thii 
great statesman's quality of being feared ac 
rulers. Machiavclli, on the subject of whe- 
ther the love or fear of the sovereign ought 
to be the dominant spirit to in^itil in the 
people, gives it in favour of the latter. 
*' Concludo adunque tomando all' esser te< 
muto ed amato che amando gli' uomini a 
posta loro, e temendo a posta del principe, 
deve un principe savio fondarsi in su quello 
che d suo, non in su quello che d d' altri \ 
deve solamerUe ingegnarsi di fuggit Vodii 
come e detlo." 

Overlooking this latter prudent caution ol 
the crafty Florentine, Csosar Borgia, Machi- 
avelli's hero, fell. It was peculiarly unfor- 
tunate in the case of Alexander, that he who 
first attempted nepotism in the papacy in a 
large way, should have had such a son to 
make trial of the possibility of the principle. 
Alexander and Csesar succeeded against the 
Sforzas, the Malatestas, and the Manfredi. 
and then, with a sangfrcid peculiar to them- 
selves, both threw off the party that had 
aided them to this pitch of greatness, and, 
unincumbered with the ordinary feelincf oi 
mortality, butchered their friends. Yet there 
came even an earthly visitation. 

«* Alexander,*' says Ranke, **thas saw his wann- 
est wishes AiUUied, the barons of the land annihi. 
latedtf and bis house about to found a great heredi. 
tarv power in Italy. But already he had begun to 
feel of what excesses hot and unbridled passiooi 


Ranke^'i Hxttory oftht Pbpei o/Aome* 

ate capable. Cntar would flhara hifi power neither 
with khieman nor faTonrite. He had eaoeed his 
brother, who stood in his wa|r, to be raordered and 
thrown into the Tiber. Mis brother-in-law was 
attacked, and stabbed on the steps of the palace by 
his orders. The wounded man was narsed bjr his 
wHb and sisters ; the sister cooked his food, in order 
to aeciire him from poison, and the pope set a gouid 
before hie homse, to pioteet his son-in-law from his 
s on ; precautions which Cesar derided. He said, 
* What is not done b^ noon may be done by eyen- 
in^;.' When the Prince was /ecoyering from his 
wounds, Cesar burst into his chamber, droye out 
the wife and sister, called an ezeentioner, and or- 
dered the unfortunate prince to be strangled. He 
used his father as a means to power, otherwise be 
was utterly regardless of him. Ho killed Peroti, 
Alexander's fayomite, while clinging to his patron, 
and dultered by the pontifical mantle— -the pope's 
lace was sprinkled with his blood. There was a 
moment at which Rome and the papal states were 
in Cesar's power. Ho was a man of the greatest 
personal beauty ; so strong, that at a bufl-nght he 
elelt the head of the bull with one stroke ; Ubend, 
and not without traits of magnanimity, but yolup- 
tuous and sanguinary. Rome trembled at his name. 
Cesar wanted money and had enemies ; eyory 
night murdered bodies were found in the streets. 
Men Uyed in seclusion and silence ; there was none 
that did not fear that his turn would oome. Those 
whom force could not reach were taken off by 
poison. There was one point on earth where sucn 
a state of things was possible, namely, at which 
the plenitude of secular power was united to the 
sopreme spiritual jurisdiction: this point was occu- 
pied by Cesar. There is a perfection eyen in de- 
proyity. Many of the sons and nephews of popes 
attempted similar things, but none eyer approached 
Cesar's bad eminence. He wee a vtrtuno in 


No important facts bccoxne eliminated in 
the progress of a monster who was narrow- 
ing his attention to the committal of eyery 
possible crime in the confined limits of an 
Italian principality, where eyil became more 
visible still from its contracted scene of ope- 
ration. His death, if we can trust the MS. 
account which Ranke has inserted in his 
valuable Appendix, which is full of docu 
ments of extraordinary interest, was caused 
by his head cook. An intended victim, one 
of the richest of the cardinals, gained over 
this roan ; and the pope swallowed a bonne 
bouche which he designed for his victim, and 
had instructed his own cook to prepare. He 
was succeeded by Julius II., and in Borgia's 
case happily that general law held which 
was observable in all the successors to the 
papal chair, that with the life of the pope the 
power of his descendants terminated, Rus« 
sell remarks in his History of Modern 
Europe, that '* Borgia, wiihout knowing it, 
laboured for the patrimony of St. Peter ;" 
and in effect he did so, for Julius contrived 
to rid himself of Csesar^ Borgia, and yet to 
secure his possessions. 

Bold as was the bull-cleaving Borgia, Ju« 
li09 was equally determined to have no se- 
cond at the game hn played ibt— temporal 

power. The Venetians affirmed that it was 
his design to be lord and master in the game 
of the world, and the Florentine MachiavelU 
wrote of him, " No baron was so insignifi. 
cant as not to despise the papal power for- 
merly. Now a kins of France stands in 
awe of it." Julius added to the see Parma, 
Piacenza, Reggio. Venice herself trem- 
bled at his attempts. The papacy rose in 
worldly power, but it was fast sinking in 
spiritual ascendency. '^ My kingdom is not 
of this world," the great law of him from 
whom that power was claimed, became a 
statute of excision. Alexander VI., for the 
indulgence of his own vices and temporal 
power, had declared officially that indulgen- 
ces delivered souls out of purgatory. Ur- 
ban II. originally hit on the invenlion of in- 
dulgences as an easy recompense for the 
Crusaders. Leo, the successor to Julius, 
instituted a general sale of them. Hume 
appears to have imagined thai no deleteri- 
ous efiect was produced by indulgences on 
the moral habits ; because, to use his own 
words, "A. man could both purchase them 
at a low rate, and hell fire, the magistrate, 
and remorse of conscience, still remained as 
powerful checks on evil." But this sagacious 
writer, in the use of these words, forgets the 
language of indulgences, the pleasing belief 
in the plenary power of the pope, not disbe- 
lieved, on the evidence of Dr. Doyle, in the 
nineteenth century, to say nothing of the 
twelfth. Now an indulgence perfect! v neu* 
tralized these checks, restoring, according to 
the form in Seckendorf, the person to mat 
innocence and purity which he posse^ 
baptism, and that when*he died, the gates of 
punishment should be shut, and the gates of 
the paradise of delight should be opened j 
and if he died instanter, this grace should be 
in full force when he was at the point of 
death. — Seek. Comment, lib. i. p. 14.* 
To such an extent had this traffic proceed- 

* Maimburgh, the Jesnit, describes the sale of 
indolgences as folk>ws : ** Ezempio JqIH Pontificif 
(Leo) ad indulg^tias nfogram habult Has abiw 
que terrarum publioaie coraTit laetas oanoibus, «afs 
pecuniam impensam ad structuram St. Petri solve, 
rent, potestate vescendi oTis, et casco tempore 
Quadraffesims et eligendi sibi confesslonarhim. 
Bona nde afnosoendum estqiii>d Pontifieee ooi 
postea wiaoesseruntiii diipenaatione spiritualt hufoa 
thesauri muUom cautioies Cuerunt. Tezelius or<Mh 
nis sui religiosos in partem laboram associaverat. 
Hi BUflceptum mxinus ut sspe fieri solet ultra limites 
urgendo, ita ezaggerabant Indulgentiarum pretium 
ut occasionem dareot populo credendi certnm esse 
onumquemque de salute et de liberandis ez purjf^ 
torio animabus,quaim primmn solutapecunia, literas. 

Scubas eoncessio indulgentianim significabator, re* 
emisset. Augebat scandalam quod soblegmti hi 
poplttis Tersaientur et partem nummorum ttvpiter 
prodigerent.— Maiipb. de Iiotber.** 

RauMs HiiifHry ofik€ Pvpu ofRam$. 


ed, that when the English Privateers took a 
ffalle<m, it was found to contain 500 bales of 
indulgences and sixteen reams to every bale. 
Dampier, the captain, careened his ship with 
them. Leo wonderfully extended this traf- 
fic ; and though it may not detract from the 
beauty of St. Peter's in the eye of the Ro^ 
manist, any structure raised by such art los- 
es somewhat of its grace to the moral spec- 
tator. How singular appears the whole 
working of thi^ period, all having an evident 
tendency to force men upon higher spiritual 
views, almost in spite of their spiritual guides. 
Leo* was at least a pope that surrounded 
himself with the learned, but he was also a 
man of pleasure rather than holiness. Hunt- 
ing, hawkinff, fishing, with the gay impro- 
visatori, and literary society, filled up his 
hours. The schools of philosophy held va- 
rious theorems as to the soul,— some panthe- 
istic notionSfOthers its mortality; the advocates 
of the immateriality and immortality were 
few. Erasmus wassDOcked; who can describe 
the effect of his generation on Luther ! We 
may gather somewhat of the feelins of the 
age from Francesco Vettorl. Ranke found 
this remarkable work in the Corsini Library, 
** Chi considera bene la legge evangelica, 
vedri i pontefici ancora che tenghino il nome 
di vicario di Christo haver indutto una nova 
religione che non ve n' h altro di Christo 
che il nome ; il qual comanda la poverty e 
lore vogHono la richezza, comanda la hu- 
miliii e lore vogliono la superbia, comanda 
la obedientia e loro vogliono coroandar a cl. 
oscuno." The age of Leo was one of the 
most sensual conceiveable, and all artistic 
periods will be ever found to be so. It is 
quite a mistake to imagine that a love of 
plastic perfection is not sensual. Its very 
source is of that character, and artists will be 
always found to partake largely, unless gift- 
ed with the super-sensuous spirit, of the feel- 
ings of Rubens, Titian, Vandyke, and Raf. 
faelle. The next pope was not of course of the 
bouse of Mediciy Adrian V L, a native of the 
Netherlands. The friend of Erasmus, plain, 
simple-mannered, benevolent and devout. He 
was a church reformer in the strongest sense. 
His efforts were paralyzed by his time. 
They placed above his tomb his own ex- 
clamAtioo, ** Let a man be never so good, 
bow much depends on the times in which he 
ii born.'' He was sueceedad by Giulio de 
Medici. He was unable to control the car- 
dinals on the death of Leo X., but procured 

* Gradeiiii^, orator di Roma describea Leo X. 
** Di etatura grandifsima, teata nxiUo grosaa, havea 
tMlllnima man : belliaaimo parlador ; prometea aaaa 
ma non atendea. II papa n aerviva molto» con di- 
mandar danari al impreatido, vendeva poi U officii, 
impegnaTa loie, rase del papato e fino li apoatoli 
Mr aver daaaio." 

his own nomination as successor to Adrian. 
He wisely avoided recalling the memory of 
his kinsman Leo X^ which was become uih 
popular, and took the name of Clement VU. 
To say he was not highly accomplished 
were impossible, bred up as he was in tlie 
house of Medici. Prudent In council he had 
shown himself hi the r^gn of Leo, but he 
did not prove equal to being his own solf. 
counsellor. He proceeded to war with 
Spain, the very power which had seated his 
own fiimily in Florence, a most impolitks 
measure, and he bitterly rued it. Bourbon, 
at the head of the imperialists, marched up- 
on Rome, and though he perished at the in- 
stant the scaling ladders were placed against 
the wallsy Rome fell with the spoil of ages 
to his troops. ^ The devastation'* of that time 
could never * be repaired. Even Cle- 
ment's own city expelled the Medici. The 
most fatal consequences were the result of 
this capture, since the superstitious rever- 
ence, the almost divine notion of heavenly 
interference for the holy city was destroyed« 
and the power of the emperor established in 
triple vigour. 

There was, too, another consequence, the 
unhappy result from the humiliated position 
of the pope ; Charles demanded a general 
council. As it had always been a question 
whether infallibility rested in the pope or in 
the general council, or jointly in the two, 
the Iraly fathers were imcommonly reluctant 
to call these councils. The councils also, 
despite that shuffling argument often resort- 
ed to by the RomanistB, that such were not 
properly convened, had a most unforttmate 
habit, the result of their human nature, as 
regarded infallibility, of contradicting each 
other. Clement himself had been considera- 
bly inconvenienced by this attribute, since 
Henry Vin. had called on his infiillibilily to 
negative, in the case of his wife Katharine 
of Arragon, the previous infallibility of Ju- 
lius IL, who in 1508 had pronounced the 
marriage which Henry sought to annul valid, 
and had unluckily issued a bull to that effect. 
All the power of the holy see appeared on 
the wane ; the illegitimacy of the pope, a 
fatal bar in his own church, was bruited 
abroad in his adversity, which would never 
have been urg^ed probably in his prosperity, 
and CUeonent Vllth died sunken in spirit by 
the prospect of existing and impending evils. 

* Still we may be allowed to dear, on the an* 
thority of the report of an embaaay in the time of 
Adrian VI., the German Landaknecta from an act 
of barbariam charged on them at the sacking of 
Rome. The Laocoon had preTionaly loat the right 
arm, for theae ambaiiadorf aaw it in that condition. 
Their deaoription of the aUtue ia weD worthy an 
attuithre peranl.*-App. 17. 


Ranke's Hidcry efihe Popes t^ JUme. 

At thi« period ihe aspect of the religious 
world was certainly favourable to the Lu- 
theran principlesy even among some of the 
stauochest advocates of the Romish see. 
Contarini^ Pole, Sadolet, even Caraffa, held 
very analogous sentiments to Luther on 
some points. Naples, the house of Colonna 
generally, Modena, all exhibited traces of a 
similar tendency. The inquisition reckon- 
ed 3000 schoolmasters as adherents of the 
new doctrine. When Paul IIL succeeded 
to the vacant chair, he requested Contarini 
and others to draw up a schema of church 
reform, and executed many useful altera- 
tions. It was strongly urged upon him that 
the great dogma in which Luther's whole 
system was involved might be made the bond 
of union between the Romish and Protestant 
churches. He unquestionably favoured the 
notion, and instructed Contarini to use his 
best efforts to effect it. Contarini, aided by 
Morone and Tommaso da Moiidena, acted on 
this occasion with consummate prudence, 
discussing the fundamental articles of faith 
first, wisely leaving the supremacy of the 
pope for a later period of the argument. 
They actually came to an agreement with 
the Lutheran divines on the four important 
articles : The Nature of Man, Original Sin, 
Redemption, and even Justification. Luther 
and the pope remained to be consulted. Lu- 
ther did not believe that the Romanists cor- 
dially supported bis cardinal doctrine — jus- 
tification. He dissuaded the Elector from 
attending the diet in person. The pope did 
not come to so decided a view as Luther. 
Strong opposition arose upon the points of 
doctrine at Rome ; but Francis L, who saw 
in this union a wonderful increase of power 
to the emperor, used all his efforts to pre- 
vent the arrangement of the religious difl&r- 
ences. Fresh discontent and disputation 
arose at Rome ; the mild formula of Conta- 
rini was objected to by the zealots ; no 
tolerance was shown to the Lutheran senti- 
ments ; and Contarini, who had deserved 
the name of the Roman Melanchthon, foiled 
in his noblest ends by the narrow spirit of 
Romanism, returned and left unfinished a 
work that accomplished would have saved 
rivers of blood. On this subject we have 
the following remark by our author equally 
sound and philosophical: *'It is a necessary 
condition of every ^reat and important ten- 
dency of human opmion, that it should be 
strong enough to establish its authority and 
achieve its triumph. It must predominate 
or perish." This was felt, though the age 
then might have been unequal to the expres- 
sion. Reformers were as earnestly felt to 
be necessary to the vitality of existing insti- 
tutions among the Romanists as among the 

Protestants. Reformers were accordingly 
taken in hand, but they partook of all the 
error that hong around the darkened nature 
of the ancient ecclesiastical institutions. 
They were modes of discipline rather than 
of doctrine. They unhappily were con- 
structed to support the papacy rather than 
Christianity. The monkish spirit of solitude, 
vowsy separate cells, broke forth. The 
Theatins arose, and lastly came Ignatius 
Loyola, and the Jesuits. We shall not enter 
largely into the subject of the founder of the 
Jesuits, but at the outset think it right to re- 
mark, that possibly no founder ever formed 
an order that more varied from himself than 
the Jesuits did from Loyola. He was all 
emotion — an entire emotionist — if we may 
be allowed the term ; but the Jesuits were 
keen calculators of the effects of a craf^ 

Loyola has had many modern disciples 
apart from his order, the visionary class in 
all ages being large, though vastly inferior 
to him in grandeur of sentiment There is, 
there always has, and there always probably 
will be, a class of persons who are insensible to 
revelation, except they obtain something like 
private and peculiar revealings, suited to the 
mdividual constitution of their visionary 
minds. Numerous fanciful delusions, ea- 
gerly seized on by the credulous, are con- 
stantly believed, and experiences of the most 
light and wavering character are readily put 
forth. Half the world possibly hovers at 
times on the brink of reason. Loyola often 
exceeded it. He had been a soldier; he 
became wounded, to which accident we pro- 
bably owe the order of the Jesuits. His 
madness, the result of this illness, took a 
leaning froiffthe romantic in knighthood to 
the romantic in Romanism. The vow 
which he forced upon his followers, to do 
whatever the pope commanded, to go into 
whatever country he sent them, to the Jews, 
the Turkb, Heathens and Heretics, on tho 
instant, without pay or recompense, partakes 
laigely of the spirit of ancient chivalry. It 
also shows the necessity then existent in the 
ecclesiastical dominions for some powerful 
stimulant to the practice of higher views and 
principles than those in operation. This 
was felt by themselves, and even the founder 
of the Jesuits was formed out of the Reform- 
ation spirit. Pity it was that such a spirit 
should become, with many elements of 
greatness, exclusively papistic, a circum- 
stance that strengthened the order at its 
rise, and yet materially accelerated its fall. 
We have seen the unwillingness of Paul to 
summon the Council at Trent from many 
other causes, but the fearful lay-power 
lodged in the emperor of calling one himself, 


iMU's B4^ ofiU iFipu ofWAu. 


a measura with Which he t^ras menaced, pro- 
bably induced him to hasten the convocation. 
It would take volumes to describe the pro- 
ceedings of that important council ; suffice 
it to say, that in Sarpi and' Pallavicini will 
be found (he best bombinatioa of the cir- 
cumstances attendant on it. The point of 
justification, despite of Pole, who supported 
the moderate party, and conjured the coun- 
cil not to reject a doctrine because espoused 
by Luther, was opposed by Caraffa and the 
bigoted Romanist party, to whom the Jesuits, 
instructed by Ignatius, lent their aid, and the 
council threw out the doctrine, severing for 
ever all communion with Protestants. Of 
course this tone of fVolicy was immediately 
carried out. Caraffa and Burgos, both 
Dominicans, set about the revival of the 
Inquisition, which, though probably not 
the device of their founder Dominic, Ranke 
thinks differently, received its main sup- 
port through that order. T!ie Jesuits ac- 
count it among their ^^^prasmia laudis" 
that Ignatius supported this proposition 
of a revival by an express memorial, and 
Paul issued in 1542 a bull for this ob- 
ject. The following rules, which Ranke 
gives from the MS. life of CarafTa show its 
extreme rigour: 

•* r. In affiiirB of fkith there mtut not be m mo. 
men1*B delay ; but on the sli^teet vnspioion, pro. 
eeedings must be taken with the ntmoet diligence. 

*' 3*. No regard must be paid to any potentate 
or prelate, whatever be hie power or dignity. 

" 3*. On the contrary, the greatest severity must 
bo shown towards thoee who seek to shelter them, 
■elves nnder the protection of a mler ; only when 
eoD Cession is made are leniency and fatherly com- 
passion to be shown. 

" 4o. To Heretics, and especially Calvinists, no 
toleration must be granted.** 

The execution of these orders drove forth 
from Italy numerous distinguished scholars, 
and closed instantly academies and univer- 
sities. Victims were butchered in the ruth, 
less fashion of the zealots in Rome. Autos 
da % took place before the church of Santa 
Maria alia Minerva, and the victims were 
sent out to sea from Venice in boats with 
planks across, on which they were placed, 
to drown them wholesale. With this tre- 
mendous system in action, the power of the 
Jesuits, who extended themselves even in 
Loyola's life over nearly the entire globe, 
came into conjoined operation. We extract 
the brief but exquisite description of their 
principal governing principles. 

** In this society obedience usurped the place of 
every relation or aflfeetion, of every impulse or mo- 
tive that could stimulate men to activity: obedience 
for its own sake, without any regard whatever to 
its object or consequences. No man was permitted 

to asptre after any rank or station above that which 
he held ; if ir happened that the secular coadjutor 
could not lead apd write, he was not to learn with. 
out peimiseioii. With the most absolute abrogatioa 
of all right of private judgment, he who entered 
this society must suppose himself to be ruled by his 
superiors, in blind suteiissiveness, like some inani- 
mate thing— 4ike the staff that is turned to any pur^ 

Ese at the will of him who holds it. He waa to 
hold in his superiors the representatives of Divine 
ProTidenoe.** — ^Vol. L p. 224. 


Protestantism was then made by this un- 
healthy action of the moral subject, by this 
prostration of intellect system. No cir. 
cumstance could mark out with mightier 
power the necessity for it than the means 
that were requisite to suppress it. This 
Roman monstrosity, like Cacus, though it 
vomited forth flame incessantly, became ut- 
terly subdued under the herculean steadi. 
ness of the principle opposed to it, and only 
indicated by its fumes the foul habitation in 
which it dwelt to the fated destroyer. The 
year 1552 severed all conciliation, between 
the three great forms of Christianity, says 
Ranke, Lutheranism, Calvinism, and Ro- 
manism. But deeply is it to be regretted 
by every moderate minded man that this 
division arose on points not fundamental 
to salvation — points which each of the three 
at present, we are fully convinced, at heart 
rejects as a source of division — points which 
Catherine de Medici considered reconcil- 
able, as our readers will see in a paper in 
the present number — but points on which one 
of tne three, trammelled with councils and 
Popes, cannot with consistency yield, and 
on which the others had a clear right of 
private judgment. This is denied to Roman, 
ism, which system always combined the es- 
sential with the non-essential, and treated 
discipline in the same fashion as doctrine. 
Her attitude has become immoveable — ^the 
Niobe of nations, she will stiffen into deeper 
hardness, until even her fondest admirers 
will at last perceive there is no life in her, 
and await that awful revival of grace that 
will be as life from the dead. 

Could Paul III. have calculated the con. 
formity of the nativity of Protestantism with 
his own, to such hands were national desti- 
nies then entrusted, he would have probably 
acted far otherwise, for he was greatly guid* 
ed by astrology in most proceedings. A 
treaty with France was delayed by him for no 
other reason than a want of correspondence 
between his own nativity and that of thePrench 
king. We should be curious to know wheth- 
er he had tried the experiment with the nativ- 
ity of Luther. Paul III. turned his attention en- 
tirely in the latter years of his life to nepotism. 
He was at least no hypocrite in owning 
openly an illegitimate son and daughter. 


^M?'« 9i¥m ^^VH ^sJh!^' 

Tq their welfi^re he devoted great attentiox)* 

but bis son was assassinated at Piacenza on 
the very day on which Paul had been heard 
to express himself perfectly satisfied with 
the prosperitv thfit surrounded him. He 
died, it is sai J, broken-hearted at the detec- 
tion pt the treachery ^at on all sides sur- 
rounded him from his family and supposed 
friends. He was aoble in 'the distribution 
of the offices of the see, and was perfiectly 
free from m^ny of the papal vices;, but 
dark suspicion of co-operation in many 
deeds of most questionable character hangs 
over his memgiy, and he was certainly un- 
fortunate in the course of events during his 
reign. Still did he die with the popular af- 
fections entirely his, but these will not heal 
the closer blows at our happiness dealt by 
kindred and false friends. His successor 
was Julius III., who ascended the throne 
the 7th February, 1550. This Pope made 
one move in politics, which proving unlucky 
and producing the reverse results to what he 
had anticipated, he quietly sat himself down, 
and having drawn the plan, built the Villa 
di Papa Giulio, by the Porta del Popolo. 
Here he enjoyed himself and suffered the 
world to take care of itself, doing probably 

liqf were. «$ rely^tenttto^adrnt th^ posjUoQ of 
the pope's t;emppral power as the Pro^estam 
to the fuIL WeU n^jght Caraffa say of Philip 
n., when some one called that king his 
friend, '* Tes, my friend who b€»i^^ me, 
whQ sought my vevy soul.'' H»w«» unable 
to realize his hi^h notion of the dignity of the 
church in his pomicaT attitude, but was cease- 
less, in his exerj^iqns. tp append bc;r disoipUt)^ 
Tbe pomp of the church none had mora ait 
heart. The decorations of the Sietine chapel 
were bis work. No pope, not even Leo ^'., 
ever manifested more love of magnificent 
worship. SeveriO in character, the Inquisi^ 
don was of course congenial to his spirit, 
and autos da fS were to him occasions of 
active duty. However, self-deceived, he 
died commending his spql to the prayers of 
all the Cardinals around him, and equally 
earnest in his adjurations to them to main- 
tain the Holy See and the Inquisition. He 
was succeeded by Pius IV., whose pontificate 
is chiefly remarkable for the Council of Trent 
being then brought to a close. By the final 
proceedings then adopted, Romanism sever- 
ed herself for ever from the Protestant and 
Greek church. *• The power," says Ranke* 
^* aimed at by the first movers of a general 

less harm than such of his predecessors as council was not attained, the limitation of 

had busied themselves in schemes for its 
welfare without understanding the question* 
Passing the brief papacy of Marcellus II. 
we come to the pontificate^of Paul IV., who 
was invested with this dignity 23d May, 1555. 
Giovanni Pietro Cara& had been the most 
severe opponent of the nepotism of Paul III. 
and the most bitter against the Protestants 
of any in tbe College of Cardinals, yet few 
exhibited more nepotism over a large extent 
of his time in the papacy, or hao greater 
occasion to bl^ss himself for the stojjt here- 
tics that dwelt in Rome. Carafia hated 
Charles V. for numerous ill offices which 
he conceived the en^peror had done him over 
a considerable portion of his early career. 
An open rupture ensued with Charles and 
Philip n., for hatred of Spain was almost 
innate in the family of Carafia, and but for 
the reverence of Alva for papal powert Rome 
had again shared the fate that Bourbon be- 
stowed upon her. On this occasion the only 
trustworthy defenders of the Pope were the 
Germans. Alva, however, revered Carafia; 
they were men of similar tendencies ; and 
after besieging his Holiness in Rome, quietly 
kissed his foot and expressed his devotion to 
his service. Can any distinction be drawn 
more illustrative of the line of demarcation 
between the civil and religious obedience of 
the intelligent Romanist than the conduct of 
Alva t The sovereigns of the Romish he 

the power of the Pope. The Pontifi*, as the 
interpreter of the decrees of Trent, secured 
the prescription of the rule of faith and life. 
Primitive Catholicism included an element 
of Protestantism in its bosom, this was for 
ever expelled. The Catholic Church saw 
and admitted the diminished extent of her 
dominion ; she ceased to take any notice of 
Greece and the East, and thrust Protestant- 
ism from her with countless anathemas. 
But the .more the power of the Church of 
Rome was circumscribedf the more it was 
concentrated and collected against assaults." 
But if the line o( circumvaliation be thus 
mighty, and the circle of defence thus nar- 
row, we may safely conclude that the points 
on which assault can be made, appliances 
from without being so numerous compared 
with what can be mustered within, must re- 
quire such unwearied defenders that even 
this ess triplex must give way before such 
battering. This pope, notwithstanding he 
had achieved a work of such extreme im- 
portance as the adjustment of this council, 
in a manner fully satisfying the Romanists, 
was not however in high estimation with 
thtm. He had done much, the tendencies of 
the age led all parties to form extravagant 
ideas of what could be efiected, and the ge- 
neral idea was, that he both ought to have 
efifected and could have realized far more. 
The rigid party had soon an opportunity of 


seeing what they could effect by the election 
of Pius V. We extract the following de- 
acriptioti of htm from our author : — 

•• Evan when pope, he Irred la ftll tlie ansteritj 
of hii moowtio life,laatod with theatmott rigour 
■ad pimotaality, and would wear no finer garments 
than before, frequently said maM, and heard it 
every day ; yet to oareful was he lest his spiritual 
exercises should distract him from pablic porpoies, 
that he aroee at an extreme eariy hour in tne morn- 
ing, and took no siesta. If we weie inclined to 
doubt the depth of his religious earnestness, we may 
accept as a proof of it his declaration that he 
found the papacy unfiivourable to his advance in 
piety ; that it did not contribute to enable him to 
work out the ssivation of his soul, or to attain the 
glories of paradise ; he thought that without prayer 
this burthen would be too heavy for him to bear. 
The happiness of a fervent devotion, which often 
moved him to tears, and from which he arose with 
the persuasion that he was heard— this happineis, 
the only one of which he had ever been susceptible, 
was granted him to the end of his life. The people 
were excited to enthusiasm when they saw him 
walking in processions barefoot and bareheaded, 
with the genuine expressbn of unaffected piety in 
his countenance, and with his long snow-white 
board falling on his breast. They thought that 
there had never been so pious a pope ; thoy told 
each other that his very look converted heretics." 

Yet this man never niitigated puuishmenty 
and always advocated severity. Even Philip 
11. could not tolerate him. The primate of 
all Spain, he Archbishop of Toledo, Car- 
ranga, who was allowed to have done more 
than any other prelate for the restoration of 
papacy in England, could not escape the In- 
quisition which Pius favoured in all its pleni- 
tude. ^ I have had/' says Carranga, *< no 
other object than the suppression of heresy, 
and in thiB God has shown favour to me. I 
have myself arrested many who have erred 
from the faith. I have caused the bodies of 
some leaders of heresy to be dug up and 
burned. Caiholics and Protestants have 
called me the chief defender of the faith." 
This appeal availed not a^inst the Inquisi- 
tion. His writings had, in the opinion of 
that tribunal, s Protestant leaning. He was 
brought from Spain to Rome, and there suf- 
fered death. 

Auto da (S followed auto da fS ; but fo- 
reigners were the chief sufferers after 1570. 
This pope was a man of blood. His religion, 
if such it can be called, partook largely of 
the rigidity of the Inquisition, a tribunal 
which had petrified his heart. Not only did 
he aid the French Catholics with troops, but 
he gave Santafiore the diabolical injunction 
** to take no Huguenots prisoners, but in- 
stantly to kill all that fell into his hands." 
The cruelties of Alva in the Netherlands, 
who took care to follow Machiavelli's rule 
**essertemuto,'* received his solemn sanc- 
tion, and the consecrated hat and sword 

Mmk^s HUhrjf pfiikPopu of JImm. 


were sent to him in the midst of his but. 
chery, as a token, it would appear, that it 
was possible to find a human being and a 
priest capable of mating, nay exce^ing, in 
the cold-blooded meditation of the closet, all 
the atrocities which that general had enact- 
ed in the field. Tet he died, in acts of 
solemn worship, combining them most fear- 
fully with the organisation of the League, 
for which he laid aside a casket filled with 
scudi two days before he died, with the words 
^ sarieno boni per la lega." He died May 
ist, 1572. His successor was the reformer 
of the Ealendar, Gre^ry XIII., who ascrib. 
ed this work to miraculous intervention. 
His reign is marked by violent struggles 
with the nobility whose castles and estates 
he escheated, and for the lawless ravages of 
the banditti, whom the pope was not only 
compelled to pardon, but, grievous retribu- 
tion ! to absolve from their iniquities. How 
keenly must a pope have felt this lash when 
thus urged by his own hand on himself 
Our author, though right in the appreciation 
of the humbled condition of the papacy, is 
certainly injudicious in closing the history of 
this reign in the following manner :<-»*' The 
aged pope, feeble and weary of life, cast his 
eyes to heaven and cried, * Thou wilt arise. 
O Lord, and wilt have mercy upon Zion.' '* 
We think the strict annalist, which Ranks 
is, should not mingle the poetical with the 
hbtorical. Strict rigidity to simple truth is 
the duty of the historian. He may philoso- 
phize on causes — ^he may, on the history of 
an imaginative period, write in the same 
spirit : but the memoir of the individual does 
not admit the same licence, and the positive 
details of the death of Gregory ought to have 
been supplied rather than an imaginative 
flourish. The college of Cardinals next 
elected Felice Peretti, who took the name of 
Siztus y. There is a life of this prelate ex- 
tant very familiar to English readers, by 
Leti, greatly calculated to mislead the gene- 
ral reader. We read it, well we remember 
it, at that happy period when a touch of the 
marvellous rather induced us in youthful 
credulity to continue than to abandon cur re- 
searches, and, to say the truth, believed it to 
be most veracious. But, alas ! all the de- 
tails nearly are false, and the alleged imposi- 
tion said to have been practised on the cardi- 
nals by Sixtus, with respect to his infirmi- 
ties, appears to be as baseless a fabrication as 
the life, by the same author, of Donna Olym- 
pia Malaachina, sister-in-law to Innocent 
X., who has apparently been equally ma- 
ligned by this writer in numerous instances. 
We have a great distrust for interesting 
mythological biography. On this subject 
Ranke has the followmg apposite remarks:— 


Rankers History of the Popes o/Roms. 

" It is striking how historjr, when resting on the 
meinory of men, always touches the bonnda of my- 
thology. The (ielineations of character become 
more sharp and vigorous ; they approach in some 
respects to an ideal which the imagmation can lay 
bold of; evenb are painted in a more marked and 
distinct manner ; accessory circumstances and canses 
are forgotten or neglected. By such a process 
alone do the demands of the fancv appear capable of 
being satisfied. At a later perioa comes the scholar, 
who wonders how roch ralie notions could ever 
have been embraced, does his best to uproot errors, 
and at last finds out that this task is not so easy. 
The reaKon may be convinced, but the imagination 
is not to be subdued.' —Vol. iii. p. 122, App. 

The first great effort of Sixtus was to sup- 
press the banditti, and though all his mea- 
sures do not merit commendation in ihis 
nmtter, yet his determination to subdue them 
was, we admit, carried out vigorously and 
admirably realized its end. He instituted 
manufactureif of various kinds, planted the 
mulberry extensively to encourage the silk 
trade, added eight new congregations to 
those existing in the College of Cardinals, 
some of which it is a great pity (the Inquisi- 
tion for example) that he did not abolish. 
He fixed the number of cardinals at seventy. 
He raised three millions of gold scudi in as 
many years. The Acqua Felice was by 
him carrif d into Rome. But, alas ! in his 
zeal for fine modern buildings, he destroyed, 
we fear, numerous ancient edifices, particu- 
larly the Septizonium of Severus. The 
tomb of Caeciiia Metella would have fol- 
lowed the same fate, but for the remon- 
strances of Cardinal Colonna. The Sclavo- 
nian blood from which he descended was 
anti-Roman. Of the very statues with 
which the citizens of Rome had adorned the 
capitol Jupiter Tonans, between Apollo and 
Minerva, he suffered simply the Minerva to 
remain, with a huge cross m the place of her 
spear, to convey an image of the genius of 
Christendom. He capped the pillars of 
Trajan and Antonios with statues of St. 
Paul and St. Peter, and they remain in their 
aerial elevation to this day. The obeliskin 
front of St. Peter's was raised by him on its 
present site. The cupola of St. Peter*s was 
also his work. He offered to furnish money, 
provided he lived to see it realized as a 
whole ; and he did so, with the exception of 
the leaden covering, in two and twenty 
months. His taste was questionable, his 
zeal for what he deemed improvements be- 
yond question. But his life was filled with 
the strangest schemes conceivable, all which 
led doubtless to the issue, that with his 
mighty powers and the circumstances of the 
period fiivouring strongly the spread of Ro- 
mapism, he did not very perceptibly promote 
her sway. His schemes for subduing Tur- 
key, Egypt, cutting a canal through Suez, I 


Napoleon's also, and the conquest of the se- 
pulchre, all attracted his momentary fa- 
vouritism ; but none assumed any thing like 
that fixity of arrangement that is necessary 
to carry out magnificent ideas. All his 
reign had the character on it which the peo- 
ple affixed to his death, which, as it occurred 
during a violent storm, was reported to be 
caused by the close of a compact with Satan. 
And in that storm it was believed the spirit 
of the pope vanished with his familiar. Hia 
sudden rise, wavering character, suspicious 
orthodoxy, all gave occasion for these re- 
ports which clearly showed he did not, ac- 
cording to popular notions, die in the odour 
of sanctity. His heart appears to have been 
with the heretics, Elizabeth and Henry, and 
we suspect his secret convictions, though his 

Eosition prevented their deveJQpment Guise 
e could not but support, and his character 
contained in it grand and noble elements, 
which this pope .well appreciated. Henry 
UL, between Guise, Sixtus, Catherine de 
Medicis and the Romanists and Navarre, and 
the Protestants, was like the poor cat in the 
adage, "Letting I dare not wait upon I 
would." When he ceased to fool himself of 
his fair purpose, and adopted, like Macbeth, 
a foul one, by the murder of Guise, his po- 
sition was rather worse than better. 

A spirit was excited against him which 
terminated in his murder by Clement,— mark- 
ing the dreadful fanatic tendency of the age. 

Sixtus ascribed the death of Henry to the 
hand of God, "It is only to the hand of God," 
says the Spanish ambassador to Philip, "that 
this fortunate event is to be ascribed.'^ Maxi. 
milian of Bavaria (but when was there a king 
of Bavaria that was not Jesuit-ridden down 
to the present Solomon ?), expresses his joy 
in a letter to his mother, " that the king of 
France was killed." 

The murderer, Clement, a Dominican 
monk, was viewed at Paris as a saint and 
martyr. His image was placed upon the 
altars. The pope further compared tne deed 
to the Incarnation of the Wora, and the Re- 
surrection of the Saviour. All these ini- 
quities, (and Henry IV. died from a similar 
fanaticism), may be mainly traced to the prin- 
ciple laid down by the Jesuits, of the abso- 
lute supremacy of the Church over the State. 

B^llarmine, Mariana (who published a 
book expressly vindicatinfi^ the murder of 
Henry III.), Campian, Eudsmon Johannes, 
Parsons, &c., all promoted this view. Let 
us take into juxta-position with these actions 
just enumerated, the following extracts from 
the works of the three first cited authori. 

Let us suppose Clement or Ravaillac in 
doubt on the moral fitness of the murder of 


Rankt's History of the Popes of Rome. 


the reapective kings that fell hrneath their 
hands. Bellarmine» the best controversialist 
of the age on the Romish side, in this state 
of doubt, would tell him, *'that should the 
pope enjoin the practice of vice, and prevent 
the observanceofviitue, the Church is bound 
to believe that vice is virtue, and virtue vice, 
under pain of mortal sin.'' 

•' Fides Catholica docet omnem virtiUem ewe bo- 
nain, oinne vitium e<u*e malum; si aiitem Papa erra- 
ret pnecipiendo vitia vel pruhibendu virtnte^, tene- 
retur liccle^ia credere vitia esse bona et virtt tea 
malas, nisi vcllet contra conscientiam peccare. Te- 
netur enim in rebuH dubiis Ecclesia acqnieecere ju- 
dicio summi Pontificis, et facere quod ille preecepit, 
noQ facere quod iile prohibet,ac ne forte coutracon* 
•ciemiam agat^ tenetnr credere bonum esse quod ilJe 
prsBoipit, malum quod ille prohiheV^^-DispiUatiattea 
R Bdlarmini PotUiani, S, R. E. De ContfWwrniB 
ChristiantB Fidd adcersus hsijua UmporiM H<eraico$, 
Qmo/. torn. Paris. 1608. 

"Jacobns Clemens nomine, in Heduis natus, 
paco ignobiti Serbona, in sui ordinis Dominicano 
collegio Theologis operam dabat; com cognito a 
Th»Mogi$ qixos erat sci^citatus t^rannum jure interi- 
mere posse, turn acceptis Uteris ab iis quos ab Hen- 
rico voto in urbe, aut palam stare odoratus erat snp- 
presso consilio certus Regis perimendi in castra 
abiit."-~ilf<in<iJia Libri ad PhUippunt 3. HispanuB 
Regem Catholicum. Anno ]6(i5, lib. i. cap. 6, p. 51. 
An tyrannmn opprimertfoM git ? 

The Jesuit victim is well described: — 
^ Clement 24 annis, simplici juvenis ingenio, 
neque robusto.corpore sed major vis vires et 
animum confirmabat." A weak tool fitted 
by his simplicity and youth for Jesuit cun- 
ning to work to any point. Cognilo a Theo- 
logis. Getting his instructions from his 
theological tutors to murder his king) 

Campian's letter to the privy-council of 
Glueen Elizabeth : — 

" De it known, that all Jesuits in the wide world's 
extent have long since entered into an engagement 
to cut oirb3r any means heretic kings; and as to our 
•ocietyt I ^ish you to understand tliat all we who be- 
long to the Society of Jesus, scattered fiir and wide 
through earth's expanse, have joined in a solemn 
league to overturn all your measures, which we shall 
easily effect while one of us shall be found in exist- 

Eudsmon Johannes, in contradiction to 
Sir £. Coke, would also tell him, that de- 
posing kings " non est Jesuitarum propria 
8ed totius ecclesisB, et quidem ab antiquissi- 
mis temporibus consentione recepta doctrina 
nostra est.'* He also enumerates twenty- 
seven authors of the same opinion. Would 
the zealots of any age need further stimu- 
lants ? 

Chateauhriand has asked and answered 
the following question, " Que peut-on repro- 
cher aux Jesu.tes? Un peu d'ambition si 
naturelle au gtnie." — Ginie du Christian- 
isme, vol. iii. p. 201. Paris, 1813. 

If a mind like Chateaubriand's be thus 
enslaved under these degradmg iuflt.ences, 
— if this be the sober decision of the author 
of Atald in the nineteenth century, review- 
ing the dark deeds of ages past, cun we won- 
der at the Jaoques Clement and Ravaillacof 
the sixteenth and seventeenth ? Must we not 
come to the conclusion that there hangs 
around Romanism a bewildering mist, that 
shuts out the odious parts of the systim from 
observation, or rather dots the blindness 
grow in the man ? But the opposite princi- 
ple, of loyahy to the sovereign, to the exclu- 
sion of papal tyranny, prevailtd largely both 
in France and Spain In the latter we have 
seen that Philip IL was by no means inclin- 
ed to obey the see in such matters, bat 
sought not simply freedom from coercion but 
to coerce the pope. In France, despite the 
papal influence, a large party remained faith- 
ful to Henry of Navarre. But still the princi- 
ple existed in sufficient force to compel Hen- 
ry to turn Romanist, and it was not until the 
reign of Clement VIII. that he received 
absolution. Even this did not save him irom 
Ravaillac. The intervening popes, three in 
number, only occupy a space of two years. 

Few pontiffs have shown a better spirit ia 
some mauers, for we really believe our au- 
thors eulogium on' Clement correct : — " He 
wished that nothing should be perceptible ia 
him but what was becoming and in harmony 
with the idea of a good, wise, and pious 
maa" In all matters connected with the 
difHcult case of Henry I V., he conducted him- 
self with great dexterity ; and the most amus* 
ing circumstance of the period in public 
sentiment i<, the alteration of the opinion of 
the Sorbonne. They had declared the peo- 
ple absolved from the oath of allegiance to 
Henry III., and called on them to depose 
him; bjut in the case of Henry IV., then a 
heretic unreconciled to the Church, they 
acknowledged all dominion was from God, 
that every man who set himself in opposition 
to the king rebelled against God, and sub- 
jected himself to damnation. ** The Sor- 
bonne," says Ranke, "rejected the doctrine, 
that it was lawful to refuse obedience to the 
sovereign, because not recognized by the 
pope, as an invention of evil-minded and ill- 
advised men." Jean Chaste I, who attended 
the schools of the Jesuits, attempted to assas- 
sinate Henry, and confessed that he had im- 
bibed his notions from that body. The peo- 
ple could scarce be withheld from violence 
against the Jesuits, and they were ordered to 
quit the kingdom within fourteen days. 

Such wt;re the mutations of the Sorbonne, 
but even the Jesuits themselves were at this 
period subject also to great divi^ons in their 
own order, for by a singular coincidence, 


Runke's Hidory of ike Pop$s ofR»Me. 


though every Jesuit bound himself by a fifth 
vow to devote himself to Spain, yet at this 
very period discontented members of the 
body attacked it even in that country. At 
this time the genera), Aquaviva, was a Nca- 
poh'tan. Spain had reckoned on monopu- 
iiziiig thiA office, bur the later eleciions had 
been against her. The Inquiaition had sub- 
jected many ofiencts to the simple cogni- 
zance of (he Jesuits, to report on Uiem t) that 
tribunal. One of the Jesuits charged his 
ord^'r with concealing and pardoning offen- 
ces, provided they were committed by iu 
officers. The Jesuits, though inspectors 
for the Inquisition, were atsio to subject them- 
selves to the same self-inspection. The In- 
qnisition immediately noticed this point, and 
arrested a provinci J with some of his most 
active associates. Impre&sionsv^ent abroad 
ID consequence, that the order was guilty of 
heresy However they afTected to support 
him, Philip II. never cordially supported 
them. He was accustomed to say they 
were the only body he could not understand, 
and that he was not able to trace the ten- 
dency of their actions. In this spiiit one 
can easily conceive that the malcontents of 
the body found a ready hearing. Sufficient 
infiuence was also used wiih Ciement by the 
king and the Spanish Jesuits to induce him 
to order a general congregation. ** These 
congregatious were," as Ranke pithily re- 
marks, ^ as inconvenient to the General of 
the Jesuits as general councils to a pope " 
Ttiey were more especially sd to 
when there was dissension in his order. He 
however submitted, and took his measures 

In the elections he contrived to exclude 
even the celebrated Mariana, and in the as- 
sembly o{ the congregation the general was 
acquitted of all intringemtnt of the statutes 
of his order. Being personally safe, Aqua- 
viva proceeded to m^^et the other points. 
Philip then demanded the renunciation of 
several points in the order that interfered 
with the Inquisition and the government. 
Aqua viva conceded them. Philip next re- 
quired that the powers of the superiors should 
be limited, and that the general congrega- 
tion should assemble at stated intervals. 
The congro'^ation rejected this, but the pope, 
fully convinced of the necessity, ord lined 
that the jsuperior and rectors should be 
changed every third year, and the general 
congregation meet on the sixth. This was 
of course submiued to from the conceded 
omnipotence of the pope, .as head of the 
Church. But the trouhirs of the order did 
not end here; one of their most fatal dis- 
putes followed. The Jesuits had originally 
Dean Thomisti. Their founder espoused 

that system. But the Dominicans, to whose 
order St. Thomas belonged, were regarded 
as the best expositors, from that circum- 
stance, of his opinions. The Jesuits were 
determined to be paramount. Unluckily 
for them, the Dominicans held the seats of 
theology in Spain, and when Aqua viva pub- 
lished the ** Rule of Studies," it was imme- 
diately condemned in that quarter. The 
Rule of Studios simply stared that the Je- 
sui's demanded greater freedom of opinion, 
that St. Thomas \%as very well in his lime, 
but that many modern works had combated 
particular errors with greater efiljct, and was 
intended obviously to put aside the angelical 
doctor, as a respectable divine in his time, 
but that his petiod was past. The Jesuits 
now occupied a most important position ; the 
eyes of Europe were upon them, for the an- 
gelic doctor, among other points, was a rigid 
predestinarian. The marvel is, that so clear- 
sighted a body (at such a time) should have 
nrooted the question. The possible case 
was. that the Thomists would have been too 
much for them, had they a ted otherwise. 
The Lutheran, the Calvintsi, and the Ro- 
manist at this period divided the world be- 
tween them. To us, the diSerence between 
Calvin and Luther appears much less than 
it did then, for in reality these Reformers do 
not differ so widely, although Luther greatly 
modified his early sentiments under the mild 
teaching of Melanchthon. This religious 
question has now resolved into a controversy 
with Calvin and Luther on one side, Me- 
lanchthon and Arminiui on the other. The 
Brhish Church, though accused of Calvinis- 
tic Articles, has really tenfold more tenden- 
cy in its articles to Arminius and Melanch- 
ihon, thau to Calvin or Luther. The rejec- 
tion of the numerous proposed alterations of 
Bucer, the doctiine of final perseverance, 
thrown out at once by the king and bishops, 
at the Hampton Conference, are clearly in- 
dicaiive of the supposed tendency then, and 
the expressions of the articles are sufficiently 
strong to persons who are disposed to take 
a fair view of the import of language ; but, 
alas! these are few among con trove r.<sial- 
ists. However, at this time Lutherani^m 
took a far more moderate position than we 
are at present disposed to concede to it. 
The Jesuits thereu|)OH were necessarily com- 
pelled, having a't icked the fafali.-^t sy.str^m, to 
defend their position. Molina accordingly 
published a book, which, like mos' Jesuitical 
productions, evinced great acuti n ss but 
.•«mall talent, and most ht-terodox notions. 
He had. of course, to maintain the doctrine 
of the Council of Trent, and he not only did 
so, but went a stage beyond it. He held, as 
Ranke states, ** that the free* will can with* 


kanke^a Himary ofiha Popes of Romo, 


out the aid of grace bring forth morally good 
works ; that it has the power to resist temp- 
tatioo^ and to raise itself to acts of hope, 
faith and repentance. When man has at- 
tained this point, God, then, for the sake of 
the merits of Christ, grants him grace, 
through which he experiences the super- 
natural operations of sanctificatioo ; but the 
reception of this gracot or its increase, in no 
way affects the activity or freedom of the 
will. On this, he maintains, ail depends ; 
it rests with ourselves to render the help of 
God effectual or ineffectual." This was, of 
course, totally opposed to the Tbomists, who 
embraced the notions of Augusiin. 

Molina further asserted the predestination 
of that writer to be stern and cruel (in which 
he was quite right), and admitted no other 
predestination than what is contained in pre- 
science, and that this prescience exercised 
DO force upon man's action. A large por- 
tion of Molina was right, a much larger 
wrong. The Dominicans called this down- 
right heresy, and the erand^ inquisitor pro- 
nounced Molina's book heretical, and con- 
demned it to the flames. But Aquaviva was 
not easily beaten. On the death of the in- 
quisitor he appealed to the pope. His posi- 
tion was singular. His order was expelled 
from France for the advocacy of the doctrine 
of the lawfulness of murdering heretic sove- 
reigns, and ** Free Will" had expelled it from 

Spain. On the first point the pope was with 
them; and they had contrived to get the sus- 
piciously orthodox Henry IV. on their side, 
oy tacitly surrendering the league and ad- 
monishing the people to obedience to the 
sovereign. We easily see into these incon- 
•istencies now^ but the Jesuits so mystified 
them, that they probably did not appear in 
this light then, Henry accordingly re-es. 
tablished the order in France. The pope 
•till wavered in directly espousing their 
cause, when the Jestiits immediately changed 
their tactics, and began to talk about a gene- 
ral council. He instantly exclaimed, " They 
dare every thing^very thing." And they 
did so» for they quietly told him, that though 
the pope was infallible, yet it was no article 
of their faith to acknowledge one man or 
another for the true pope. A subtloty well 
conceived, and perfectly in their refining 
spirit. Clement, however, came to no deci- 
sioo in their case ; the Dominicans and the 
king of Spain on one side, the French and 
Jesuits on the other, kept him in the state of 
Mahomet's coffin. It most be owned also, 
that though both Dominicans, and. Jesuits, 
and the Council of Trent were all theologi- 
cally wroDg, yet that the Jesuits were nearer 
to the errors of that council than the Domi- 

that after sixty-five meetings, Clement pos- 
sibly arrived at Sir Roger de Coverley's 
conclusion, that ''much might be said on 
both sides." 

In this state matters remained during the 
papscy of Clement. He was succeeded by 
Leo XI., who surviving his exaltation only 
fiAeen days, the election then fell on Cardi. 
nal Borghcse, who assumed the style of Paul 
V. His papacy was mainly occupied by a 
violent contest between him and the Vene- 
tians. Clement VIII. having possessed him« 
self of Ferrsra by means of very questiona- 
ble equity, Venice became jealous for her 
personal liberty. By her peculiar constitu- 
tion she was nearly independent of her pow- 
erful neighbour. For reference to Romo 
was expressly forbidden in her decreta, and 
she even ventured to tax the clergy. The 
republic further demanded that the benefices 
there should be filled by Venetians. Bellar- 
mine and Baronius, mighty names, held the 
immunity of the priesthood and of the papal 
power from any temporal jurisdiction, but 
they were more than met by the powerful 
arguments of the Venetian Sarpi,* whose 
works contain a complete statement of the 
law on Church and State, defining their just 
1 im its. The V enelians completely espoused 
the notions of their talented countryman, and 
the pope excommimicated the republic in 
consequence, but the Venetian clergy refused 

to comply with the order ; not a single copy 
of the pope's bull was affixed to the churches. 
The Jesuits even were iu doubt, but the 
great principle of their institute induced ihem 
to obey the pope. This quarrel, though ar^ 
ranged amicably, ended with the severe loss 
to the pope of his most devoted adherents in 
Venice, the Jesuits, who thus at kat became 
expelled even from an Italian territory. The 
fatal limit to Roman power was fixed by 
Paoli Sarpi. '< Justly is Paoli Sarpi's me- 
mory held in reverence in all Catholic 
states," says Ranke, ** he was the able and 
victorious champion of those principles, de- 
termining the bounds of ecclesiastical author- 
ity, which are their guides and safeguards 
to this day." Great efiforts were however 
made in Poland, Sweden, and (xermany by 
the Romanists at this period. Henry I v. 
also, though he proclaimed the EUlict of 
Nantes, which preserved all Protestant rights, 

* An attempt was made on the life of Fra Paoli 
Sarpi, in the spirit of the zge, by five assassins who 
gave him fifteen wounds, one with a stiietio in the 
head. He mirvtved the attack, and the Venetian 
senate rewarded the skilfal services of the surgeon 
who preserved bis life with knighthood. Ue then 
wrote his History of the Council of Trent, the sheets 
of which were sent by Sir llcnry Wot ton to King 

... ,. ,._ , James, to that the fint edtUon appeare«l at London 

means, and it is owing to this dimcuky also, lia laid. 


SohUb Hidory of tke Popes <j 


gavo an immense tendency to the Romanist 
opinions. The ascetic orders were never 
more rife, and certainly must have gained hy 
the powerful contratu with the dissipated 
court and king. But the fatal issue to Rome 
from the reign of Paul waSf that though the 
Romanists succeeded in regaining many 
German states to the see, yet the monarch!, 
cal tendencies were stronger than the eccle- 
siastical, which affected seriously the tem- 
poral power of the pope, Paul V. died from 
a fit of opopiexy while celebrating the vie 
tory of the Weissburgh, which put an end to 
the hopes of Frederic the Elector Palatine, 
the great supporter of the Protestant interest 
in Germany. 

But ere we close the history of his reign 
we may mention one fact in itself completely 
illustrative of the limes. This pope ap- 
pointed a commission to examine into the 
opinion of the Pole Copernicus, conceminp; 
the motion of the earth. The issue of that 
inquiry terminated in permission being 
granted to assert the motion for scientific 
reasoning, but inhibited persons from treat- 
ing it as a truth. They allowed it as an 
hypothesis, but forbade it as a matter of doc- 
trioe, conceiving it contrary to scripture. 
His successor was Gregory XV. To him 
are owing the propaganda, and the introduc- 
tion of Ignatius and Xavier as saints into 
Rome's ample calendar. Romanism in- 
creased wonderfully under this pope, and 
missions were promoted with most laudable 
zeal thrcughout most parts of the world. 
To Xavier the world is certainly a debtor. 
The Jesuits obtained at this period that sin- 
gular footing in China which has been the 
admiration of modern travel lei-s, but thev 
held thi;9, like ail their possessions, but for 
a brief space. Gregory must however have 
died with great satisliaction, from the reflec- 
tion of the high missionary spirit that had 
marked his roign, and the tranquillity that 
reigned over Christendom. The calm of 
this reign was succeeded bv the turbulent 
period of Urban VIII. 'fhe genius of 
Kichelieu rose dominant over all. Urban 
was successful, or rather carried out the 
line of success that Gregory had laid in 
Germany, and elated with it, began to form 
moru extensive schemes of secular power. 
But Romanism was weakened at this period 
by the gigantic efibrts of Richelieu against 
Spain and Austria. The pope was also 
treated by the cardinal with as little decency 
as any other power when he interfered with 
hia views. The Huguenot. was also pro- 
tected if Richelieu's policy lay that way. 
Urban entered also into the battle against 
the House of Austria. The Emperor Fer- 
difumd, howeveri was no mean foe even 

when opposed to such men aa Richelie 
and Uiban. The celebrated Gustavua 
Adolphus appeared upon the scene as the 
champion of Protestantism. Small opposi- 
tion was offered by Urban to this chief; he 
had his own views of humbling Austria, the 
great secret of his policy, and had Aban-' 
doned no claim of the papacy in letting, like 
Richelieu, any instrument work out his po. 
licy. Urban became however inextricably 
entangled with domestk: wars, which ex- 
hausted his treasury, and led probably to 
his unhappy end, on July 29, 1644. In his 
time Italian troubles compelled the pope to 
look at home. Ferrara, Urbino, which had 
been seized by the popes, opened the eyes 
o( the Italian states, and rendered the sove- 
reign pontiff odious in the eyes of even 
Italians. The pontificate of Innocent X. 
was one of quietude ; and Alexander VII. 
was but the shadow of a pope : possibly the 
most stirring event of his reign was the sin- 
gular circumstance of Clueen Christina of 
Sweden, the daughter of Gustavus Adol* 
phus, embracing the Roman Catholic faith, 
and assuming in honour of this pope the 
name of Alessandra. His successor, Cle- 
ment IX., was deservedly elected to the va- 
cant see. His reign is remarkable for its 
bringing to a close the celebrated contro- 
versy between the Jesuits and the Jansenists. 
We can do little more than give a brief ac- 
count of the subjoct-roatter of this dispute, 
and roust refer our readers to the third vo- 
lume ol Ranke for a masterly sketch of the 
polemical disputation. The Jf suits hod de- 
parted largely even from their own consti- 
tuiion, since they had deposed their general 
without any moral imputation against him, 
and yet by their very constitution they owed 
him unconditional obedience* This weak- 
ened their system. 

A distrust similar to that in Spain had 
arisen of them even at Rome. The nuncio 
of Gregory XV., the Bishop d'Avcrsa, was 
expressly cautioned not to repose implicit 
trust in them. With prudent wariness he 
was told to be careful- in various quarters 
*'e parimenii a' padri Gesuiii ricorrera con 
avveduta confidenza." We have seen their 
political sentiments in a former part of this 
article; we shall now show a small portion 
of their religious system. They defined sin 
to be a wilful infringement of the commauds 
of God. In what did this wilfulness con- 
sist 1 In perfect knowledge of the nature 
of the sin committed, and in the full consent 
of the will to its commission. This mode 
of Viewing sin enabled them to get'outof 
vast difficulties. A person, according to 
them, might will the commission of evil, but 
this was not sin. The word of Je^s pro. 


Raiiktfs Hishry oftke "Popes of Rome. 


noanced tbd contrary proposition. Th< less 
heed of God a man took on this principle 
in sinning, the nearer was he to virtue and 
forgiveness. Daelling was prohibited by 
the Church ; but if a man were in danger 
of incurrmg any grievovs loss by adherence 
to this principle, then he might fight. Per- 
jury was defined in the same manner as it 
is at present at Maynooth, where it is said 
there are seven causes excusing the obliga- 
tion of an oath, and five altogether remov- 
ing it. The Jesuits defined exterior swear- 
ing without the consent of the mind to the 
act as jesting. Any person of course may 
perceive that this system contained princi- 
ples that totally removed moral restraint. 
Their great principle of the end ssnctifying 
the means flowed out of the same element, 
since it is evident they looked on all acts 
simply in relation to their issues, and tested 
their guilt simply by the issue. All moral- 
ity and religion would speedily have dis- 
appeared under this system, and Jesuitism 
would have usurped the seat of Jesus. Jan. 
•enius accordingly came forward as one of 
the champions to prevent this fatal issue. 
The advocate of a vigorous examination of 
the heart and head, making the love of God 
the great governing principle, defining grace 
as liberation of the soul from the bonds of 
lust. His friend St. Cyran also gave a prac- 
tical illustration of the system in his life. 
Both Jansenius and St. Cyran condemned 
the church of their day us corrupt. The 
Pori«Royal system flowed out of Jansenism. 
With all the learning of the Jesuits we du 
not remember any one useful invention 
springing from that body. They certainly 
in no degree turned their thoughts to scien- 
tific inv3ntion, their soul was bent on em. 
pi re. The Janseoists, on the contrary, 
translated the Scriptures, composed works 
10 a popul:ir style, and denied in toto the Je- 
suit principles on morality, speculative be. 
lief, and practice. The opponents of Jan. 
senism compressed the system into five pro* 
positions, and required the judgment of In- 
nocent X. upon them. Innocent misliked 
the question; but unfortunately, when strong. 
]y urged, published a bull, condemning the 
five propositions as heretical and accursed. 
But here the Pope was curiously met by 
opponents not easily eluded. The Jansen- 
ists immtdiately denied that these five pro. 
positions were Jans^^n ism, and declared their 
interpretation of their system different to 
that alleged agaiasl them. Innocent had 
died during the disputation. Chigi, who had 
succeeded him, had taken the chief share in 
condemning the propositions. As Pope he 
reiterated the censure, and pronounced that 
they were Jansenism. But to this the Jan- 

■entsts replied, that such a declaration as 
Chigi had issued, that *' the five propositions 
were certainly taken from the Book of Jan- 
senius, and had been condemned in the sense 
of their author," exceeded the limits of the 
Papal power; that infallibility did not extend 
to a judgment of foots. Clement IX., who 
succeeded Chigi, Alexander VII., was in a 
must delicate position. Two judgments of 
the infallibies who had preceded him were 
on solemn record, but the Jansenist wit involv- 
ed a very deep question. He therefore came 
to the conclusion, that the five propositions 
were condemnable, but did not confirm the 
decision of Alexander VII. that they were 
the tenets of Jansenius. The Jansenists 
certainly beat the Pope, and infallibility on 
matters of fact vanished from that' period. 
Infallibility, of course, is much easier afilirm- 
ed in matters on which there can be no 
mortal cognizance, and unsusceptible from 
their very nature of ratiocination. 

The reigns of Clement X. and Innocent 
XL, Alexander VIII. and Intiocent Xil., 
are chiefly remarkable for the disputes with 
Louis XIV., who asserted stoutly both his 
own independence of the Pope and that of 
the clergy of the Qallican church, and fur- 
ther that a council was superior to the Pope, 
and lastly, th^t the decision of the Pope is 
subject to amendment if it has not received 
the assent of the Church. Innocent XII., 
however, maintained the petition o( Rome 
even against Louis XIV., but Re was great- 
ly aided by the circumstances of the period, 
which were opposed to the king of France. 
Clement XI. was involved during his entire 
reign with the disputes coi^sequent on the 
extinction of the Spanish line of the house 
of Austria. He underwent the mprtification 
of being compelled to congratulate Charles 
III. after having previously recognized his 
rival, Philip. He was the last Pope within 
the immediate compass of Ranke's work, 
though a slight sketch is given of events 
down to the present period. He and his 
successor, together with Benedict XIV,, 
were driven into concession afier concession 
to the times. Benedict, by a solemn con. 
cordat, renounced the patronage of the small- 
er Spanish benefices still possessed in that 
country by the Curia. All ultnmontane 
principles were fast sinkmg. The Jesuits 
Ibught stoutly, but their literary n*putatioh, 
hitherto unrivalled, began to fail them. The 
attacks of their foes were numerous and 
powerful, and the defence they opposed in 
this department was feeble. Reforming 
ministers, all ant1. Jesuitical, sat at the coun- 
cils of France, Spain, Naples, and Portugal. 
The attack first commenced with an attempt 
to limit their powers, and Benedict XIV. 


RanMs Hu$ory qfih$ Papti of Borne. 


seemed of opinion thftt the order needed a I 
strici rei'oi m, but he died bt:fore it was ei- 
fecied. His succe<$6or, Clement Xlli., wus 
thfcir friendy but evenid were against him 
and them. An attempt on the king's life, 
ascribed to their influence, expelled them 
fiom Portugal. Louis XV. would fain 
have saved tliem in that country, but even 
he pro(K)sed to the general to appoint a vicar 
in France. Rtcci, their general, was a de- 
termined but impolitic leader. He rejected, 
with Clement on his side, all modiBcaitons 
*^ Smt ut sunt aut non sint,** w«s his word, 
and their dissolution ensued. Spain follow, 
ed the example of France ; Naples and 
Parma next, in 1749 the ambassadors of 
Naples, Spain, and France appeared before 
Clement, and demanded his abolition of the 
order. He died on the.evening before a con- 
siatory, which was to have determined the 
question* Ganganelli was his successor, 
and he abolished the society of Je«us, their 
functions, house, and institutions. This mea- 
sure certainly brought Rome a step nearer 
to the Protestants, and the abolition of the 
Jesuits may be considered the result of Pro. 
testant principles working their powerful but 
quiet course. Joseph 11. was determined 
not to lose the advantage of his position, and 
to become absolute in all respects. He sup. 
pressed 1:^00 monasteries, allowed no money 
to pass from Austria to Rome, and declared 
himself administrator of the secular afiairs 
of the Church. 

The successor of Ganganelli, Pius VI., 
was obliged to yield to the emperor the no. 
mination of even the episcopal sees of Italy. 
The French revolution followed, when, as is 
well known, the aged Pope was attacked by 
the French in the Vatican and carried into 
France, where he died in August, 1799. 
The disastrous reign of Pius Vli. followed. 
The alienation of church lands in France 
was conceded by him, and he trusted by the 
concordat of 1801 to have reconciled the re- 
volutionary and Romanist spirit. A similar 
concordat, which in effect ceded all papal 
power, was demanded lor Italy. Napoleon 
would not permit the unfortunate Pius VI f. 
any rest, and demanded of the Pope to break 
of!' all relations with.England and Russia. He 
urged that the Pope could not sever his po- 
licy from France without ceding his states, 
the gift of Charlemagne. Pius refused, and 
he experienced the same imprisonment as 
bis predecessor. He was removed from 
Rome. The anion of the states of the 
Church with the French empire was pro- 
claimed by a senatiis coosultum, and the 
whole power of the Pope merged in effect in 
, The Pope raaisttd for a time, bat by the 

concordat of Fontainebleau. 25 February, 
I8i3y agreed to reside in France. « Napo- 
kon achieved what no former sovereign 
had ever contemplated. But events set in 
that annihilated the giant of the Revolution. 
The simple notion of legitimacy, which re- 
stored the Bourbons to their throner, ope- 
rated also in favour of the Pope, and anti* 
Romanist powers seated him in his civil au- 
thority once more. Untaught by the expe- 
rience of former times, Pius recalled tho 
Jesuits; Spain also, but ihe Cortes agaia 
expelled them. In England the Romanist 
party gained an apparent victory by the car- 
rying oi the Catholic Relief Bill, but with 
the removal of civil disabilities no reli- 
gious recognition of the Pope ensued. On 
the contrary, by that measure the loyalty of 
the Romanist party to the Crown t>ecame 
rather more established, which is of course 
anti-Papal. Whether it were wise to pass 
that measure which gave the Romanists 
additional power in the state is another ques- 
tion. The measure was certainly uncoosti* 
tutional, but it did nothing for the ultramon- 
tane principles, though it strengthened the 
Romanists as a party. Rome now allies 
herself in England with the movement fac- 
tion per force, but this is a feeble stay, de- 
pendent on the uncertain tenure of the pre- 
sent Government, and unsupported by the 
people, who are utterly opposed to Revolu- 
tion and Romanism. Our task with Ranko 
is now performed, and ere we close, we 
think it right to do an act of tardy justice to 
his translator, Mrs. Austin. Her perfect 
knowledge of her author, complete intuition 
into his sentiments, and thorough mastery of 
the subject matter, will render this lady's 
work most valuable to all who cannot read 
the original. We select the concluding 
passage of Ranke, as a specimen of elegant 
succinctness of language. 

<* Were we to look only at the efforto of the hie. 
rarchieal ptrty and of its opponents, we should bt 
led to fear that a dcadlv war wai ready to break 
out between them afresh, to convulse the world, and 
to revive the old animosities in all their bitterness. 
But if, on the other hand, we turn our ejes to the 
universal activity of men, which characterizes the 
age, we dismiss those fears as groundless. Few, 
indued, are now disposed to re-establish the dominion 
of a priesthood in the true and full sense of the word ; 
and were any found to make the attempt, it is pre- 
cisely in the Romance countries, the ancient seat 
and stronghold of Catholicism, that it wOuld ezpe* 
rience the roost violent opposition. Nor among the 
Protestants can there be a return to the bigotry, the 
exclusiveneas, tho narrowniinded antipathy of tho 
old system. We see the pro founder spirits on either 
side gradually recurring, with more knowledge, 
with larger and deeper insight, with more freedom 
from the fetters of cramping church formularies, to 
the eternal principles of genuine and spiritual reli- 
gion. It is impossible that this tendency can be ' 
bantn of rsealts.*— toL iii. p. 945. 


Tht Old Popular Ballads 


And in this we believe, with the reserva- 
tion thar Protestantism is not nl present a 
narrow and exclusive system. Protestantism 
now is what Cathoh'city always was ; a sys- 
tem embracing in it all ihe fundamentals of 
salvation, unmixed with foreign matter. For- 
mularies every faith must possess, for in for- 
mularies Giirist has fixed his law. But with 
the Bible as the standard, and the Church as 
the expositor of the Bible and the teacher of 
nothing else, grounding her own authority 
on it, and only holding such traditions as 
pure centuries of the Faith have transmitted, 
there can be no question on Catholicity. To 
this the tendencies of time are bringing all. 
Jesuits may again spring up, inquisitions re- 
vive, monachism for a time flourish, but the 
world is opposed to them all, and a spirit 
above the world is quietly removing these 
warts on the universe by its caustic and pu- 
rifying influence. England alone (a point 
to which Ranke seems singularly insensible 
in his work) possesses more influence over 
the political, moral and religious tendencies 
of the world, than the Roman See in the 
highest element of her power ever rnjoyed ; 
and we trust she will ever use the proud po* 
sition of Queen of the seas, and mistress of 
a mass of subjects unparalleled in the annals 
of the world, to the promotion of that spread 
of intellect, that diffusion of morality and re. 
ligion, which a nation holding her sceptre 
must displny, and in this she will not simply 
secure the permanent stability, but the actual 
increase of her own gigantic power. 

Art. If. — 1. Svtniica Folk'Visorfran Fornm 
Uden^ Samlade och tUgifne of Er Gust. 
Geijer och Arv. Airo. Afzelius. 
Stockholm, I Del. 1814. 2 Del. 1816. 
3 Del. 1816. 4 Del. (Musik), 1816. 

2. Svenska Fornsan:Ter, en Samling of 
Kdrnpavisor, Folk^ Visor, Lekar, och Dan* 

sar, samt Barn' och ValLSlanger* Utgif- 
ne af Adolf Iwar Aewidsson. Stock- 
holm, 1 Del. 1834. 2 Del. 1837 

Bada med Mttsik'bilagor, 

In performance of our knightly word, which 
true chevalier never violated, we proceed to 
lay before the lovers of legendary lore the 
remaining portion of our Swedish Ballads. 
We refer our readers to No. XLIX. for the^ 
method pursued in the arrangement of them, 
and we proceed to " Songs of True Love," 
which form the next head under which we 
have classed the Ballad Poetry. We trust 

that the lime is not yet past in any of our 
readers, when the bosoms of all thrilled be- 
neath the witchery of Scott, and higli as his 
merits stand as a romancer, we shall always 
regret that neglect that led him to throw 
aside ihe harp of his country, ere it had giv- 
en forth much of its sweetest and purest 
lone. Around even his last effort, the Lord 
of the Isles, there hung a charm that will 
not possibly wake its potent spell for many a 
century again. Who forgets the liille revi- 
val of hfis ancient craft in Waverley, Guy 
ManneringjQuintin Durward, which showed 
the latent flame, and that only needed the 
breath that enkindles to high emprize to 
again awaken ihe slumbering power in the 
heart of the last of all the minstrels. We 
deeply mourn that pseudo-science under 
which fair minstrelsy has fallen, and feel satis 
fied that we lose in strain rapi Jly, as we part 
from the love of the chivalrous and the ima- 
ginative, and sink into the mean and uninte. 
resting commonplaces of every-day exist- 
ence, quitting the mirrored glory of the past, 
and looking only to the present as a source 
of mammon-hunting engagement. Out on 
all the matter-of-fact people. We turn with 
pleasure to what is almost forgotten, amid 
marriages of convenience and dower, 

Songs of True Love. 
Amid these we find in Arvidson — 

1. ''The Maiden resolveih to flee with 
her Lover.*' A. ii. 225. We think the 
last five verses sa sweet and pretty that we 
cannot help extracting them. 

Whoso a stone in water throws. 

It sinkcth down straightway ;•— 
And whosu fats fast friend doth lose. 

Hit heart's no longer gay ! 


Whoao a stone in water throws. 

To the bottom it will go ; — 
And whoso his fast friend doth lose, 

His heart is full of woe. 

Whoso a feather on water throws. 

Float ercr there it will ; — 
And who his fast friend doth not lose. 

He thioketh on him still • 


Then hence, fly hence, thoa littla bird 2 

From lily-home; 
And whiiiper to my dearest lore 

I Bbre will oome ! 


Tes ! hence, fly hence, thoo bonny bird ! 

In dale so still ; 
And whisper to my deareit love 

That come I will I ^ 

■^^-»— ™ ' — 'III — ' I '-» 

* (* Hvilken som kastar en tten i vatten 
' ' Han sjunker till grand, 

Och hvilkensom mister en fulltrogen t&o, 

Hans hjerta gAn tung," Jto. 4te, 


«M Simff( of SneJgn- 


9. ** The Dance in the Orove, or the Appointment.'* A. ii. 286. This chanson, 
also, is so delicate a litde gero^ that we willingly add it to our ptuaderad treasure :— 


*TwM all upon an avooipg, when the rime it fUIeth flow, 
Tiiat a iwauit on good gm palfnj, aozoM the nwadf wooJd go.— 

16*11 bide me true ! 

Hi* Middle it wae of nlver, hie bridle it was of gold, 
Hiffiielf Tides there, eo fall of graee and virtaee all untold.— 

Ye'U bide me true ! 

So etraigbt to the Grove of Roeee the Knight he ipeede along. 
Where a merrie dance he findeth* &ir damee and maidi among.— 

Ye'U bide me true ! 

Hie horee right soon he bindeth where the Illy bloome ao fair. 
And much hie heart rejoieeth that he now wae oomen there.-* 

Ye'U bide me true I 

' Again we'U meet, again well greet, when middeet ■ommer'i hen, 
Waen the laaghiag cbje diaw oat eo long, and the nighta are mUd and eles^.— 

Yoni bide me true ! 

* Again we^U meet, again we*U greet, op middeet eommei^dajr, 
When the lark it oaiole Jigfatlj, and the eoekoo eooea awaj.— 

Ye'U bide me true * 
« Again we'll meet* agam well greet, on the freriily-flowering lea. 
Where the roae ao bright, and the lily white, our sweet loil conch ihall be<^— 

Ye»ll bide me true J' • 

B. Fidelity. 3. ** The Maiden rescued 
from being sold into slavery, or Love better 
than Kiar G. i. 73, 134. These very dra* 
matie ballads ere both exceedingly beaut i> 

ful, and are a uoiquQ specimen of the oietra 
they exhibit, and of the times to which they 
refer. We select .dia first cppy :-^ 


* My lather and my mother they need have loirered eote ;— 
And then, for a little hit of bread, they iold me fWan tfadr door. 
Away into the heathen land eo dreadfol !* 


And the war-man each oar graape tight, and ouickly wiU depart. 
While her hande the pretty virgin wringe tUl the blood fhereoot doth etaitf^ 
Ckxi help that May who afar ahall atray to the heatiiea kad ao dreadlhl V 


* Ah 1 war^man dear, ye^U bide now here, one moment more yePll atay ! 
For I aeo my father coming from yon grove that bloome eo gay :— 

I Jau>w he lovee me ao,— • 
With hia oxen he wiU ranaom me and wiU not let me go ; 
8o acape I then to waader far to the heathen land ao dnadfdl !* 


* Mv oxen— indeed now I have but only twain; 

The one I atraight ahaU oae, the ether may remain ; 
Thon acapeet not to wander ftir to the heathen land eo dreadful !* 


And the war-man each oar giaapa tight, and aoiekly wiU depart, 
While her hande the pretty virgin wrings tiU ibie blcwd thereout doth elait ;• 
* God help that May who afar shaU stray to the heathen hmd eo disadfhl f 

» * im 

• (• 

TOL. xavi. 

"^ - " -— 

H&U om eon aftboo ta lijin ftllerpa, 

▼tvydhsr then awenae agn aangare gia, 
I hijdben migh vaUr* &c. &c. 

t» rk* Old Papuimr Btdlmd^ CNst. 

' Ah ! wir.nuLii dear, jM bide now here, one moment mom jePU it«y I 
For I aee ray mother coming from yon gioTe thtl bkMme eo gay : 

I know ehe loves me eo^ — 
WHh her gold oheets she will ranaom me, an^ will not let me go ! 
So aeape I tnen to wander far to the heathen land ao dieadftil!' 


* My gold eheata— indeed now I have hot only twain ; 
The one I itr^ight ahall nee, and the other may remahi ; 

ThoQ eanet not aeape to wander ftr to the heathen land ao dieadftal !* 


And the war-man eaeh oar giaape tight, and qniekly will de|>ait. 

While her hands the pretty viigin wrings till the blood thereoat doth start i — 

* God help that May who afar ahall stray to the heathen land so dreadful !> 


' Ah I war-man dear, ye*ll bide now here, one moment more yell stay ! 
For I see my sister coming from yon grove that blooms so gay: 

I know she loves me ao,— - 
With her cold crowns she will ransom me, and will not let me go ! 
* So seape I then to wander far to the heathen land so dreadful V 


* My gold erowns-«>indeed now I have hut only twain ; 
The one I straight shall use, and the other may remain ; 

Thou scapest not to wander fiii to the heathen land so dreadftil !* 


And the war-man each oar grasps tight, and quickly will depart. 
While her handii the pretty virgin wringa till the hlood thereout doth start >— 

• God help that May who afar shall stray to the heathen land so dreadful !* 


* Ah ! war-man dear, ye'll hide now here, one moment mors ye^ stay 
Fat I see my brother coming horn yon grove that blooms so gay : 
With his foal-steeds he will ransom me, end will not let me go ! 

So Sd^ I then to wsnder far to the heathen land so dreadful !** 

' My foal-steeds— indeed now I have but only twain ; 
The one I straight shall use, and the other may remain ; 
Thou scapest not to wander far to the heathen land so dreadfiil T 

Aad the war-man his oar grasps tight, and quieklv will depart | 
While her handa the protty virgin wrings till the blood thenoot doth start > 
^ Ah ! woe^ that May who afar must stray to the heathen land so dnadf^ !' 

• Ah I war-man dear, ye'U bide now hero, one moment moro ye'll stay ! 
For I see mv sweetheart coming from yon grove that blooilla ao gay : 
With his gola rings he will ransom me and will not let me go ! 

80 scape I Uien to wander far to the heathen land so dreadfm!' 


* JM[y gold rings— indeed now 1 have but ten and twain ; 

With six I straight will ransom thee, thyself the rest shall gam,— 
So scapest thou to wander far to the heathen land so dreadful V 

4. ^The Se^oD Ooldea Mountains, or 
the Knight's fidelity to his Mistress." O. 
iii. 71. This ballad, which consists of twen- 
ty-eight verses, closes v^ith a very agreeable 

6. ** A Knight (having carried off the 
King's Daughter) is pursued by a host, and 
betrayed by his Mother, but slayeth his ene- 
miesi and compelleth the King gladly to ac- 
knowledge him as his Son-in-law," A. i. 
137, 141, 146*. 

* The reader will remember, in this and all 
other vanationa and peculiaritiea of metro or of 
ihyme, that (As original ka* icsn followed with scru* 
pulous fidelity. This is our i^logy (and it is a 
good one) ror soveial eorious or inconsistent 
inymeS| &ۥ 

6, << A Knight, gladly entertained by the 
King's Daughter, is pursued by his enemies, 
but slayeth them all, and gaineth her for his 
Spouse." A. i. 148, 151. These five Bal- 
lads have something in common with several 
of W. Scot's Border Legends. 

7. '* A foreign King, denied by a Lady, 
giveth her a trance-drink, and cau^th her 
to be buried, but afterwards taketh her up 
and carrieth her to his conrt, whence she is 
rescued by her Husband, who discovers her 
bv the mark on her hand." A. i. 177, 180. 
The plot of these songs, which contain some 
very curious details, will remind every read, 
er of '' The gay GfoM-AawA" in the Border 
MinstrelsjT) and of the stratagem employed 
by Hastings the Sea*King to obtain posses* 
sion of Luna in Italy. There is also a 


and Song9 of Sweden. 


channiag old Bohemian ballad* of a very 
•iiiiihr character. 

8. '* The Leman tisiteth her sick Lover, 
aod is tenderly earicbed by hioi." A. ii. 
(K2» 44. This pretty ballad ie one of the 
•ane character, thought not so tragic as the 
Scotch •*Prt»cs Robert**^ 

9. ** A young Knight, wandering on ad. 
ventares, falls in love with the King of 
Eoglasd's DsAighter ; but refosiog a Bride 
the King had chosen for him, he is condemn- 
ed to death. War breaks out and the King 
is slain, whereupon the Knight, after many 
wondrous chances, gains the Princess and 
the Throne." G. ii. 1 16. This is a deli, 
cious lay. The prison-scene, in which the 
death-doomed Biyniog is visited by the fair 
Princess, will bear comparison with the 
celebrated description in Byron's '^ Corsair,^ 
or anything similar with whksh we are ac 
quainted. But the whole poem is so long 
(hundred and five six-line stamas) that we 
dare not venture on any further notice, CNspe* 
cially as we are afraid that neither *' The 
SaaoQ Chronicle," nor the Venerable the 
Society of Antiquaries, will sanction this 
new claimant to ** fkm fingelonde's 

10. ** A Swain carrieth off his Mistress, 
who is in danger of becoming another's 
Bride." B. i. 159, 162. Both these ballads 
are rich in beaudes. We extract two stan- 

from the first :-— 


Young Thor ho tUa en Voiig64iUl, 

With a Toaj flower at play ; 
And Harald be on BEamihali lite, 

And in emptj horns blowi all day ! 
For the Voiife.moaatainoeni their Bride t&ey take 

with honour! 

12 ''A Maid, no longer able to conceal 
the consequences of her amour, escapeth 
to the Prince her Lover, who shareth his 
crown and bed with her^ G. iii. 90 ; A. i, 
355. Not without interest. The ^harp 
of gold/' in the first copy, is very prettily 

13. ** Nature betraying the young Knight's 
iove to his Mistress, he rusheth to console 
her, but is cruelly deceived by a false Maid- 
en." 6. i. 83, ii. 15 ; A. ii. 131, 185. 
Three of these four ballads are well worth 
translating. The first, especially, is very 
evenly rested. Nothing can surpass the 
quiet malice of the eecond of these two 
verses. We omit the refrains : — 


*' Oh that I bat had now a'taver-etodded knife ! 
Myeelf I would right quickly thortan my yoong 
life !•• 

** My head-jewele take from off my head. 
And a frontlet bind on my brow of enow ; 

For Wi the jonth Aat loveeme well, 
Me then he eorely cannot know l^ 
If ifae woud bat be mine I 

Then in trod FUken Albtektafon, 

GoId.jin« hb handi attire y^ 
** Now God blees thoie two ejee of thine, 

So gladly I know their fire r 

It ihe would bat be mme ! 

11. ** The one Knight prepareCh the Mar- 
riage-banquet, while the other carries off the 
^adly-followiog Bride.'' A. ii. 431. This 
IS a fine old half-heathen song. We have 
4mly room for two verses:--- 


** Harald, nt, my man ; and thy wamail drink ; 

We eo aa beat adriae ; 
And never again on ptuud Gertrude think ; 

So danger ar from thee fliea !** 
For the Vonse-moanUineen thy Bride they take 

with honour! 

• Begianinf ** iV« Trnnekhnv^mtn/' tnd traas- 
lated m the Far. Quart, Rev^ No. III. p. 157» 
t nr. 8ۤU*9 Border miastisl^. 

** And aoraly diall ye got from me a ailvar-halled 

Nathleaa in naught I blamed will be lor the loaa of 

thy yoong lilb !'* 


14. ^ The false Knight becomes the true 
Spouse, or the sad May's Story." A. i. 86 1. 
The dialogue, from verse vi. to x., is very 

15. ** The Bride falleth in labour as she 
fareth home, but telling how it was she had 
been ravished by a &iight, and the tokens 
he had given her, is discovered to be the Le- 
man of her Spouse." O. ii. 50, 56, 59, 
215, 217; A. ii. 246 These interMting 
illustrations of many an incident in Vikinff-^ 
adventures and a war/ior^ge, are strikingly 
paralleled in *' Cospatrick."* 

16. *' A Knightt suspected of having con- 
versed too freely with a noble Maid, is sent 
away in exile and awaits death. His love is 
then forced to marry a rich suitor, but sub> 
sttiuting her bower maid the first night* is 
believed to have been a virgin. Hereupon 
th« young Knight is held innocent, and is 
permitted scathless to return. She then per* 
soades him to take a spouse^ but in some ftnr 
weeks her husband dieth, and her lover's 
wife perisheth in child-bed. The two lovers 
hereafter hold their nuptials, giving the 
bower .maid gold and a husband.'' A. i. 
240. This old legend, which abounds in 

• Border Minatrsbf. 



beautieiy is so very lobg (not less than one 
hundred and stanzas of five 
lines each), thiit we must be content with the 
above putlioe of its plot. The Swedish title 
is ** Tharkid TrcneMim.*^ It appears to have 
been common to all Scandinavia. Profes- 
sor Geijer gives (to!, ii. p. 86,J the widely- 
spread Swedish translation of a Danish copy 
foubd in Syv, 638, and in Jiyerup^ part iv. 
iSSf besides which, Artoidsaon refers to 
two other MS* copies in Danish and in 

17. ♦'The Concubine's Triumph, or the 
King rescues his Mistress from the death 
adjudged her by the Queen, and giveth her 
crown and dignity in her stead.** G. ii. 157, 
161, 164. The last of these three ballads, 
irhich are also paralleled in Denmark,'^ is 
certainly the most valuable of the three. All 
are curious illustrations of a former age. 

B. Diapiises. 18. ♦♦Love's Disguise, 
at the Swme-herd Prince getteth him hb 
Princess hxr!' A. ii. 159, 164. 


^ And hear now, little tftsinan. 
Hear what I Miy 1a thee : , 
An' haat tboa any mind thii hotir 
To play gold dice with me ?*« 
Bat with goMen dke th^ piay'd, tliey play'd^mif 1 


*' Bat how and can I {4^ now 
The golden dic4 with thee t . 
For no led shining gold 'I have 
That I can stake *gainit thSe."^ 
But with golden dice tfasy pkjM, they play^ away 2 



** Bad I come with grand coaches and hones ao 

For a bu, ho,' hn, hu, hn, ha ! 
little Kentin 1 never had gotten aa mine, 

For a &Mer«l.der^.der«l.derJa ! 

"Had I come with fine hones and coaches ao grand, 
For a fau, ha, ha, hu, ha, ho ! 

little Kentin had never me followed from land, 
For a faUder-aLder^aLder^l^er-la !*t 

. 19. «« A Prioce, disguised as a Shepherd, 
Mtinsth the hand of the King's own Spouse." 
6. ii. 186. This old song approaches very 
ftearl^ to the comic caricature. 

20« ** A King's Son, disguised as a Sea. 
ouui-youtl^ playeth dice with a noble Maiden, 
and winoeth her so to his Bride." G ii. 
87,42, 46; A. ii. 156. The songs on 
this subject are ao eztiemely popular throi^h- 
.out Scandinavia^ thai, we cannot refuse 

Siviog one of them» and have selected the 



Inher lofty bower a virgin Mt 
On akini, embroidering gold. 
When there came a little seaman bv 
And woald the maid behold/— ' 
Bnt with golden dioo thejr playM, they playM away ! 


? *JVymp, ty.236 

t •• tbde jag kommit med vagner ooh haat, 
Fdr en lui, ho. ha, hu ! 

AMiig hade jag da liten Karin fatt Oat, 

Fdr en liten talaklalaUlej !** dbo. 
t Tliere an Danish copies In Nyerop, iv. 199 : 
and Syv, Pt. iv. No. 36. j vf t 

•' And sorely thea canst stake thy jacM, 
Canst stake thy jackst my ; 
While there against myaelfwill stake 
My own fair gold rings twae." — 
Bat with golden dice tEey plajpd, they pla/d 


So then thefirrt gold die,l woW 

On table-board did run ; 
And the little aeaman lost his stake, 
And the pmtty maiden won.^— 
8«t with golden dioe they p1sy*d, they play'd away ! 


*« And hear, now, little seaman, 
Hear what I say to thee : 
An^ hast thou any mind this hoar 
To play gold dice with me T— 
Bat with golden dice they pUy'd, they play'd away I 

*' Bat how and «)an I play now 
The golden dioe with thee 7 
For no red ahininff gold I have 
That I can stake *gainst thee.»»— 
Bat with golden dioe they play*d, they play'd away \ 

'* Thoa sanly this old hat canst slake, 
Canat etake thy hat ao grey ; 
And I will stake my bright gold crown, 
Come take it if ye may. **~ 
Bat with golden dice they play'd, they play'd away ! 

And 00 the second die of gold 

On tablo4KMLrd did ran ; 
And the little aeaman loot his stake, 
While the pretty maiden won. 
But with golden dice they play'd, they play'd away ! 

** And hear now, little sesman, 
Hear what 1 say to thee : 
An' hast thoa any mind this hour 
To play fold dice with me ?" 
But with golden dice they play'd, they play'd away • 


** Bat how and can I play now 
The golden dice with thee 7 
For no red riiining gold I have 
That I can itake 'gainst thee.**— 
But with golden dice they pfiiy'd, they play'd aw^ ! 

*< Then stake each of thy stockings. 
And each silver-buckled shoe ; 
And I will stake mine honour, 

And eSoe my tioth thereto." 

But with golden dice they i^j% they play'd away ! 

And so the third gold die. I wot, 

On tahlcboard did ran ; 
And the pretty maiden lost her stako. 
Wiiile the littls seaman won.— 
But with golden dice the^ pJsy'd»;they p)ay4 away ! 


^^M9m^9f MMm:^ 

** C0Mi» hMiriipiPi, litti»*euiiftii ; 
Bbut9 te mray frtm «• ; 
Ab4 ft ihip lliat ftema the briny fload 
I4liftt wtM giiFB to th06.*^<^ 
Bat with golden dice they ftley'd, they plty'd sway ! 


'* A ship that items the briny flood 
111 get, if *t can be done ; 
Bat that 3feang virgin have I will. 
Whom with gold dice I woi."— 
Bui with golden dioe they pl«y*d, they pky'd away ! 

'* Gome, hear now, little eeunan ! 
Haate far away from me ; 
And a shirt eo fine, with eeams of rilk, 
I that wiU give to thee."— 
Bat with goUen diee they playM, they pUyd away ! 


*' A ihirt M fine, with eeama of silk, 
rn get, if 't can be done ; 
Bat that yonng virgin have I will* 
Whom with gold dice I won.**— 
Bat with golden diee they play'd,they play'd away ! 

*• Nay, hear now, little eeaman ! 
Haate ikr away from me ; 
And the half of this my kingdom, 
I that will give to thee."— 
BqI with golden dice they play'd,they play'd away ! 


•< The half of thia thy kingdom 
ril get, if *t can be done : 
Bat that yonng virgin have I will 
Whom with gold dice I won."— 
Bot with golden dice they play'd,they play'd away ! 

And the virgin in her chamber goea, 
And parts her flowing hair ; 
** Ah me ! poor maid, I soon, alas ! 
The marriage-crown most bear." — 
Bat with golden dice they pIayM,they play'd away ! 

The seaman treads tiie floor akmgi 
And with hjs sword he pUy'd,— 
** Asgood a match as e'er thou'rt worth 
Thou gettesi, little maid." 
Bat with golden dice they plajr*d, they playM away ! 

** For I, God wot ! no seaman am. 

Although ye thinken so : 
The best king's son I am, instead, 
That in Eogelonde can go." — 
Ba| with golden dice they play'd^they pta^daway !* 

31. '^ A ditguiaed Priace persuadeth his 
Mittresa to elope with him on ship-board, 
where he roTealeth hia rank, and giveth to 
her the Cfown." G. ii. 173 ; A. i. 168. 
These two pieces have considerable interest. 

2d» *• The sudden, or the Kioc 
who spared the Pilgrim (disguised Prince^ 
who had shared his Danghter's bed.*' A. i 
820, 322. There are many pretty reraes 
here, but the first original was probably 
more finished. 

* ** Jongfrun sttt i hOgan loft' 

Och virka' gull' pa skinn ; 

8a horn en lilen batmnan, 

Och tittade derin. 

Men de kkte. dalskte, goUtaming,'* dte. 

t8. «The wonderfof Mb^nudwUh, or^he 
]tnight*8 disguise gaineth him his Lai^. 
love." A. ii. 174, 176. The plot is good, 
and the eongs not bad. 

24. ^ A if aiden, disguised as a Groom, 
serves at Court -till ^be shareth the King's 
crown and bed." 6. ii. 80 ; A. ii. 178. 
These ballads, of which the last is the beet, 
are somewhat in the character of *' The 
Lady turned Berving-man.^^ 

25. *^ A noble Lady, justly afraid of her 
honour, refuseth to obey a heathen King's 
commands to visit his Court, and thereby 
rescue her captive Husfaand. But, notwith- 
standing, disguised as a Miostrel-Monk, she 
joumieth perilously thither, and earning 
from the admiring King a boon ! a boon ! 
she beggethso her Husband from captivity." 
G. ii. 244. This is one of the most deli- 
cious ballads in the whole circle of our 
ballad and romance experience. Its length 
alone (thirty .one stanzas of eight lines each) 
forbids our inserting it entire. Two verses 
we must find room for, in honour of the 
collections we are reviewing ; — 

TTow when thia earl was travellM home^ 

*Twaa on the second day — 
Hia frienda and iese8.they each one oome, 

And plainta begin to^ay : 
AH how hia apoute, no Icm than ihs 

(So, angry, thna they cry), * 

Had jouney'd to a lar ooantrae, 

None knew or where at why. 

That noble ladye, grieving tad, 

Rose straight now from the board. 
And went where she her chamber had. 

Nor spoke one single word ; 
But quick she found the cloak all wide, 

Then took her lute so good, 
' And hong her harp upon her aide, 

As *forB the king she'd stood ! 

Our readers may anticipate the result of 
the surprise thus admirably introduced. The 
rescued husband adores, and the ** friends 
and feres" all kneel in homage to the virtu- 
ous and slandered heroine. 

C. Love and Melancholy. 26. '*The 
young Swain's sorrow, or the dying Sweet- 
heart." A. ii. 208. This little ballad is 
full of the most delicate pathos. Would 
that we had space for it ! 

27. *' A Knight battleth for his life with 
the seven Brothers of his Lady-love : the 
eldest six he slays, but 9pareth the seventh, 
who basely murtheriB him, and is thereafter 
slain by his Sister." 6. ii. 1X8, 226 ; A. 
i. 155. 

28. <• A Knight battleth for his life with 
the seven Brothers of his Lady-love, and 
slayeth them all ; after which be joyfully 

• Pere^a Bettques, iii. 76. * 

71U OU PBpnImr BMmii 


espoiuetli Vm BekyvM." O. ii. 180 \ A. i. 
295. We haye placed theae two groups 
together, aa, although the One ends tragical- 
ly and the other not so, they are in reality 
only variations of the same aobject. The 
latter is paralleled in Danish/ but both in 
Scottish, baUad8.t We think tlie opening 
rerses of the two last deserve a place here :— 



Moant now to gently bona and Huldle, 
Nor let thy gold ■pan kling ; 

And gently o*er the liower4iridge ride, 
Tbv gold saddle maim not ring— 
In sammer time. 

oifOBB evni • 


So many paths the village reaeh, 

Not aJl are smooth or light ; 
Ah ! happy he who, in this world. 

Doth hap to find the ri|^t ! 
That We it endeth well. 

29. «^The Maid that would visit her 
Lover Is devoured by a Wolf." Q. iii. 68 ; 
A. ii. 278. Full of an infantile simplicity, 
which reminds an English reader of the an- 
cient popular nursery-tale, ** Little Red Rid- 

80. '*The Waters drown, but cannot 
part, or the kingly Children's Pate." O. 
I. 103, 106; u. 210 ; A. ii. 108. We doubt 
whether ever any Oreek ballad, primitive or 
published, about their own ** Hero and Le- 
ander," could surpass this old Scandinavian 
■ong-group in the melancholy effisct of its 
detail-painting. The first copy on our list 
ends thus : — 

*' And hail, my &tber ! hail, my mother I 
May no sad grief them move ! 
Down in the deep sea will I sink, 
While thus I clasp my love !** 

81. '*Yule in the Wave, or the Lover 
lost at sea on a visit to his Mistress." A. 
ii. 3. Well deserves translation. 

82. '^Tbe first Love in the Deep, or* the 
Toung Man's Tale." A. ii. 15. 

S3. ** The Lover's Lament for his drown- 
ed Love.'' A. ii. 288. The following are 
the two last verses of the first copy, of which 
the second appears to be a confused varia- 
tion >— 

•• When other swains they drink their wine, 
While the blasted leaf doth fall, 
So sorrow I that dear one mine,— 
But many a maid, 'mong all her bloom, slow^san- 
k'ring griefii henoe oiall ! 

• Nyerup, iv. 931 ; Syv, 689. 
% «• The Bowie Dans of Tarrow" and ** Eling^ 
ioo," both in SosCTf Minstrelsy. 

•• When other swafais so gladly 
While the Masted leaf doth fall. 
So sorrow I that nMe.]eaf ewaet,— 
But many a maid, 'mong all her bloom* slow-ean- 
k'rmg griefii henoe oall!*' 

84. ** The Melancholy Meeting, or Sor- 
row upon Sorrow,*' A. ii. 280» 440. This 
Scandinavian* *^ Pyramus and Thisbe** bal- 
lad is much more nobly sketched than any 
dassic rival. Indeed the northern legend 
boats ** Pyramus" heUow I An old printed 
copy calls it <* En skdOn ocb mycket yncke. 
lig Viisa"*-a finire and ryghte doleful Bal- 
lade; and indeed it can hardly be read 
without tears. The introduction of one of 
the mysterious dwarf-race, as the immediate 
cause of the tragic close, gives the whole 
an inexpressibly powerful and sombre tone. 
Had it been shorter, we should undoubtedly 
have given it entire^ but it will not bear ex- 

85. <' The Cruel Brother and the Sister's 
Excuses." O. iii. 107. 

86. ^ Woman's Excuses, or the Sister 
proves that Byes cannot see." A. L 858. 
The former is a tragic, and the latter a co- 
mic, variation of tha same story. The latter 
is well known in Scotland, though in a 
broader form.f 

87. ''The Bloody Bed, or the Knight 
stabbed by the side of his innocent Lady." 
A. ii. 56. This piece contains some fine 

38. ** The Maiden-Mother, or the pi- 
teous History of the King's Daughter, proved 
by her Mother to be married and then by 
her Father slain.'* A. i. 385, 830, 843, 
348. A very afiecting subject beautifully 

89. " The Drunken Madness, or the 
Knight slayeth himself for that he hath sUin 
his Leman." A. ii. 77. A wild subject 
strongly painted. 

40. *' A Knight resoueth his Maiden from 
being another's Bridci and carrieth her to 
his Hall, but is pursued and slain, where- 
upon the Widow refuses his Rival's hand, 
and takes the Veil." A. i. 193, 199, 410 
These songs are very long, and will not 
bear abridgment. 

D. Death for love. 41. «' The Power of 
Love, or the Koiffht who dioth at the Sound 
of his Mistress' Death-Knell "f A. ii. 18, 
437. Poetical, pretty, and well told. 

42. «*The Lover (joomieth for to die) 
(killeth himself) for that his Spouse is 

* A Daniah variety it found ia Z§tUratr&mdtm 
SamlingeD, Upeala, Utvalda Hiatorier, t i. 

t ** Oar ffood man came home,** Slc. J^hmaoiit 
Maaeal Moaeam, v. 66 ; Soottiah Songa, 1794, i. 

t Simiter inoideat ia ** Barbara AUen^e Crasl^*'' 


tUtd'SttMfttf Sitf4d0t^ 

dead/* O. L 70; A. ii. 50. Both are 1 Separation." O. L 96. * An exceedingiy 

very characteriatic of olden times in the 

48. ^LoTO faithful in Death and unto 
Deatb» or the peraecuted Lovers find Union 
in the Ghrave, after long Imprisonment and 

beautiful balladf but too Song for insertion. 
We extract Duke F^dembor^s^ deliverance 
previous to bis cruel death, and the roasting 
of his heart as a dish for his unfortunate 

And the kinr he thnv tfioke to hk fbot-psfes two, — 

For all that in toia world ia dear ! 
*' Ye'll take now Dnke FMjdenborg from oot hia tower the Une^— 

Ah me ! bow beayy now doth lile appear. 

So took they then Duke Fiejdenborf fiporo oat hia tower the Uiie« 

For all that, dte. 
And hie looka they were all grey and hia beard It waa ao 

Ah me i &e. 

*• Fifteen long yeara are paaiPd and gone, ainee God^ ftee air I drew I — 

For all that, dbo. 
** And yet it aeema aa thoogh thia time were bat aome abort daya few !"— 
Ah me ! dbct 

44. "* The Knight, faithful in absence, I 48. •< The Wife, falsely suspected, dieth 

returns to his Mistress, and (they die of a 
broken Heart) (he carries her off) on the 
Day of her Wedding to another. 6. i. 116, 
120 ; A. ii. 24, 20, 32 ; 6. i. 128 ; A. ii. 
165, 168, 171, 236, 281 ; ii. 84. Avariety 
of songs, more or less similar to the aboTe, 
(several of which display great beauty,) are 
K>und in Denmark and Scotland.^ 

45. ** A Knight escaping with his Leman, 
she falleth in Travail by the way, and dieth 
with her Infants. Herewith he burieth them 
and killeth him on the spot." 6. ii. 189 ; 
A. i. 852. To these pieces there is a Danish 

46. ** rluptials in the Wave, or the Lady 
drowned on a Visit to her Lover, who there- 
upon slays himself, and is buried in the same 
Grave." A. ii. 8, 12. As in so many 
other Scotch and Scandinavian ballads. 


Two treea spring ftom their buiial-plaoe. 
And atill each other they embrace ! 
And o'er the watera with thy good oara row me. 

47. ** The Leman visiteth her sick Lover, 
and thoogh enriched by his last Will, dieth 
to share bis Grave." G. i. 112 ; A. ii. 87, 
40» 47. Very beautiful ballads, which re- 
mind us of the closing stanzas in ^ Prince 

* This tragic atory ia familiar to the Italian raad- 
er. Tancred, Ghiamonda and Goiaeardo form the 
peraonagee in the Decam. Giom 4. , « 

t •* Och Kennngen ban Ulte till ama soenner tva : 
F5r allt hrad fom ksrt kr i ▼erlden— , 
I tagen hertig FWnjdenborg nr tomet det bla. 
Mig tyckea det Sr tnngt till att lefrat" &c. 
r X Nyerop, No. 184, 139. 153, 166, 157 ; Jamie- 
aon'a Pop/BaU. I J33 ; Gilchriat'a CoUecUon, i. 160; 
8ooU'a Bolder Minatretoy- 

i Nyemp, iii. 61. 
. I 8eott*a Border Minatrelay, 

when her Lover is put to death,'* A. ii. 62. 
An admirable ballad, of which there is a 
Danish variation. f 

VIII. Soiios OF Falsi Love. 

1. *« The Knight's Farewell to his false 
Betrothed." A. ii. 211. Verse viii. is 
pretty : — 

*' To aome green bkwming tree I once did liken 
With clustering roaea crown'd ; 
Bat now to fig-tree bare I woold bat liken thee, 
WhoaeTeavea Ml all aronnd ! *• 

2. *' The unexpected Marriage Quest, or 
the deceived Lover visits his false Mistress 
on her Marriage Day, and slays himself in 
her Halls." G. ii. 8, 812. The expiring 
lover exclaims, at the close of the first copy : 

'* So eome now, maidena all ! 

And aee how hard it movea — 
When oatha the false tongae apeaka, 
While th* heart another lovea : 

•• Bat who can roaea bring 

Firom oat the high rook*a braast !— 

And who can find aweet love 
Wheie no aweet lore doth reat 7 ** 

8. " A Lady, false to her absent Lord, is 
driven from his Home on his return, and dies 
miserably in the House of her grieving Pa- 
rents. G. ii. 164, 223 ; A. i. 8T4. One 
verse we must quote : — 


And oat then came her brother good. 

Gladly he for her prayeth ;-- 
Mv aiater, ye*ll let remain thia year, 

Tho» aa aerving.maid hnmble die atayeth !» 
So aeeretly bore ahe her eonow. 

f Nyemp, ii. 853. 




4« ^Th» CSftw-haid omheardt or the 
Paramour pttnisbed." X^ ii- 10& Aa nd* 
■urabla litue bftUad* 

5. ^Tha wiQQged Hunband sUyeih his 
Wife and her Pflmmour." A. ii. 448. Full 
of rough and striking language. Thus the 
third stanza, on his first hearing the charge 
against his demure partner : — 

Her VftDge to wnthfbl beoame and lo wood,* 
That the green gmw tiuA*d white on the earth 
where he stood ! 

0. ** A Lady hateth and at last murder* 
eth her Husband, but is detested theretbre 
by her Paramour*'* A» ii. 60. In this song 
the words and the action of the adultress are 
very finely contrasted. 

7. " A Leman shamefully murtbereth her 
Lover." G. u 67. There are two very 
similar songs in the Border Minstrelsy .f 

8. ^< The Enightf barbarously murdering 
his Spouse, is broken on the Wheel.*' Q. i. 
76. This long ballad contains the following 
very remarkable descriptions of a genuine 
Scandinavian mich'tDoman, We omit the 
refrains : — 


** Yea ! o'er the heath I saw her haste amau. 
With all the little witches in her train. 


'* The grisly bear she rode opon, I trow. 
While, as her saddle, clung the wolf below. 


*' And tlien, as whip, she grasped the serpent long ; 
Myself was there, myself tehcld the throng." t 

9. " The Bandit punished, or the Lady 
kills the false Wooer that would have made 
her his eighth Victim." G. iii. 94, 97 ; A. 
i. 298, SOI. This is a charming tradition, 
somewhat in the Blue Beard style. 

10. '* The Wife-seller punished, and his 
Spouse well rescued." A. ii. 109. This 
picture of Carse barbarism is probably not 
of Swedish origin.§ 

11. ''The deceiver deceived, or ihe false 
Lover drowned." A. ii. 166. A very good 
joke, and» althongh rather a hard one, very 
well deserved. 

12. " Woman's Revenge, or the Leman 

* Thus in Little Masgrave and Lady Barnard — 

Woe worth, woe worth, je my merry men all, 
Ye never were home for my good. 
Why did ye not offer to stay my hand 
When ye see me wai so wood ? 
t •• Lord William" and *« Earl Richard.*'— Per- 
ey*8 Reliques, 1794, p. 69. 

t ** Jo jag sag henne appa heden i gar, 
Konde man sig r&ltelig betanka ! — 

Ibland alia andra Tiollpackor sma. 

Herren Bald trader viller dfver stigen," dec 
^ Hie coin mentioned is not Swedish. There is 
aparallel in German called MQUertfleke,'* in Deg 
KnahoH Wundorh^m, i. 918. 

humeth up ihe Ghi^ts .and Htils of the 
Knight who had been false to her." A. i. 
305. Well deserves translation. 

18. *'The fiiithless Lover puDished bv 
hia Mistress' suicidoy dies by bis owb hand.'' 
G. i. 49* This very fine old song is too 
long for abridgment. 

14. '* A Maiden, despite her Sister's warn- 
ingy giveth away her honour. ^ Afterwards* 
m Nature's need, she sendeth afler her Lo- 
ver* but findetfa him false and far away." O. 
ii. 148. The pictures in this good song are 
very instructive. 

15. <* The Knight betrayeth his May, but 
is afterward:} punished by wandering halt 
and blind till he beggeth Bread at her Door." 
G. iii. 61 ; A. ii. 227. Excellent ! We re. 
member a very similar tale in Mr. Bulwer's 

16. *' A cruel Eoiight treacherously carries 
off the Maid that refused him, compelling her 
to keep up with his Horse ,* whereupon she 
maketn her will and so dieth.** G. iii. 64 ; 
A. i. 206. The picture of woman's pride 
and of man's malice in this ballad (which is 
also known in Danish*) is perfect. 

17. ** A young Prince treacherously imi- 
tating her Husband gaineth Admittance to a 
Lady." A. i. 332. Thisjs a very singular 

18. <* Too late, or the Lover anticipated." 
A. ii. 281. It is an ill wind which blows 
nobody any good. Let us profit therefore 
from this unfortunate knight's ezper^nce, 
and listen to the following stanzas : — 


'* Counsel I will each yoathfol •wain 
Who will a-wooine go, — 
That his hone he saddles and spars his ftot. 
Nor rides too late or slow. 

*' Counsel I will eaeh youthful swain 
Who will a. wooing go,— 
lliat he never g^ves his good gifts out 
Till the maid's mind he well know !"— 


HBNy dec. 

A. Chastitv Ikept or lost. 1. "The 
Triumph of Chastityt or the Maiden's Story." 
A. ii. 234. Almost a copy of the songs in 
group No. 10 below. 

2. <« Woman's Wit, or the merry Deceit 
whereby a Virgin escapeth from the Suitor 
who had seized her.*' A. i. 284. An ex- 
cellent and right witty Imllad, which ought 
by all nneans to be translated. There is a 
Danish copy.f 

8. ** The Virgin that died cruelty rather 
than live with Shame.** G. 1.11,14. This 

• Nyermp, iO. S95 and 386. 
tiVycnip, iv. 175 ; Syv, 639. 


and Songs of Sweden. 


is so admirably sweet and simple .an old 
song, and so extremely popular among all 
classes to this day, that we must find room 
for a version. The air to which it is sung 
is also very charming : — 

(litbn karuv.) 
uttlb karov.* 

And ttil) terred little Karin ' 
: : I> th* jonng king's palmoe ha', 
liks any star bright thone the 
: 'MoDg all Um maidens am*. 

Like any etar bright ahone she 

: 'Moog all the maidena aina',-^ 
When thai, the damsel tempting, 

: The young king's words soli fa' ; — 

" And say now, Karin dearest ! 
: Say wilt thoa but be mine ; 
Grey palfrey and gold-decked nddle, 
: : Shall both, yes both, be thine."— 


** Gfey palfrey and gold-decked saddle 
: : Would ne*er suit one so low ; 
To tb* queen, thy young apoose, giT« theiB-> 
: : Let me with.bonour go !" 


**But say now, Karin dearest! 
: : Say wilt thou but be mine ; 
My reddest gleaming, 
: : £*en that too shaU be thine!'* 

** Thy cold.erown reddest gleaming, 
: : Would ne'er suit one so low ; 
To th' queen, thv young spouse, give them— 
: : Let me with honour go !" 

•• But listen, Karin dearest! 

: Say wilt thou but be mine ; ' . 
To the half of this my kingdom — 
: Whate'er thou wilt is thine .*"— 

•I The half of this thy kingdom 
; : Would ne'er suit one so low ; 
To th' queen, thy young apouse, give it— 
: : Let me with honour go !" — 


•« Then hear now, little Karin ! 
: : An mine thou wilt not be,-^ 
Thrust down in a spik&^iet barrel 
: : Thy fair young limbs 1*11 see !" — 


*' And thrust in a spike-set barrel 
: : E'en should my young Jimbt 
Prom heaven above, my innocence, 
: : Qod's little angels see !" | 

* ** Karin" is the old and popular Swedish form of 
Catherine, in the same manner as ** Pehr" for Peter, 
he. and which must not be confounded with the 
diortened or vulgar names : for initance, the vulgar 
name of «• Pehr," or •• Peter," ia •• Pelle." In some 
instances, however, they Qoincide. This ballad oe» 
ours in Spanish, and is cited as a Finnish Romania 
by Torres Canter and others ; and we should have 
sootFUted the two forms, had time permitted as to 
iassit aftethoomiBf sitiols on SpaaMi Ballads. 



Then down P the spike-set bairel 

: : Thev little Karin bound ; 
And all the young king's pages 

: : They roll her round and round* 


And ao, from heaven down-flving, 
t : Two milk-white doves deeoend ; 

They took the little Karin— 
: : And three straight badiward wend !' 


And 80, from hell two ravena* 
: : On coaUblack wings ascend ; 

Right quick the youne king seis'd they, 
: : And three straight backward wendlt 

4. 'VVirtue's Resource* or the Maiden 
that died not to become the King's Conctt« 
bine, and thereby became his Briae." A. i. 
880. A very pretty and pleasant contrast 
to the ^loom and cruelty of its predecessor. 
There is something similar in the plot (on 
the virgin's side) to that of the heroine in 
•* The gay Go8s-hawk."t 

5. *' Virtue's Triumph, or the Suitor re* 
pulsed by night retumeth to woo by day.'* 
A. u 328. This excellent story reminds oa 
all of Burns's " O lassie art thou sleeping 
yet T" 

6. ** The Bride rideth out to the Marriage* 
feast a Maid, but goeth into the Marriage- 
bed a Maid no longer, and home retumeth 
neither Bride nor Maidl^ A. ii. 144. A 
very curious old Ballad. 

7. ** A Lady ezposeth her Child, who ia 
rescued and afterwards married to her, 
wherupon she ezplaineth to him that the 
King is his Father, hcreat the Son compel, 
leth him to acknowledge his own birth, and 
his Mother's rights." 6. ii. 182. 

8. ** A Lady exposeth her Child, who ia 
rescued and afterwards married to her, 
whereupon she explaineth to him that his 
Father is far away, his Mother close at 
hand. The Youth declares this to the 
Kin?, who burneth them both to death." A. 
]. 370. These old legends^ cannot be read 
without interest. 

9. ^ The playful Flames, or the Maiden 
falsely accused will not bren." A. i. 318. 
Contains 'some good lines. 

10. <* Tho Brother tries his Sister's Vik. 
tue." G. i.43, 46; ii 207. . These ballads 
contain some charming stanzas. 

11. << The Brother's Revenge for that his 

* The Spanieh Romanza on Maria de Padilla, 
Miitrees to Peter the Cruel, containe the same io. 

t ** Och liten Karin tjente 

p£ uDga Kungens gaid ; ; | : 
Hod lystS eom en stjerns 
filaod alia T&rnor sira. : | : 
t SleelftMinitrelay. See also iSew^tf/TVaiei^oeff. 
Fidelity. No. 7. (above.) 

^ PSrallelsd in Banish, %•, lee, 450; Aytmn, 
IT. a, M. 


Th$, Old Pofular Bdjiadi 


falsely accused, nnd cruelly brent to death. 
A. i.'aiO. 313, 315 The perfi.lious Ciimi- 
nal aiv4wercih W\6 doubling father, (wo omil 
the refrains) : — 


N And how, on the grround, thall the grasi e'er 

hen the fiftther will not his own ron trow ?* 

AAerwnrd, the unfortunate victim* seeing 
her funeral pile blazing high before her, ex- 
claims :«- 


•* My cash ions they bum red, and my bolsters they 
bum blue ; 
God help me, little KersUn, who most aoon sleep 
there aboo !" 

12. *• The Sister tempted, or the Brother 
refused in spite of his Wishes/' A. ii 
205. The ideas of ihQ " Wishes,'* in this 
delicate little ballad, resemble the fragment 
in the ** Border Minstrelsy ,**• which is, 
however, surpassed in beauty by its Scandi- 
navian rival. 

18. ■* Incest punished, or the Father's 

Sister would not sin, or the Maid who was Justice." A. 808. Short, as it ought to be, 

and melancholy. 

B. Mitcdliutous. 14. •* The Brother of 
ilie Bride siayeih her Slanderer." A. i. 278. 
Surh was the summary justice doubtless 
often inflicted on the slanderer of old. 

15. '' The Miiden hard to please, or the 
Flying Suitor." A. ii. 188. Whether alle. 
goricai or mysterious — hard to say. 

16. ^« The task ful61led, or the Virgin at 
the Fountain." A. ii. 242. Probably from 
a German original.f 

17. '* The Power of Music, or the (Shep- 
herd) (Waitino) Girl singeth and playeth 
her on the Throne.' G. iii. 44, 49, 53, 55, 
58 ; A. 8-4, 388, 392. 894, 397. Several 
of these ballads should be translated. They 
are full of innocent images and antique love. 
Number. 6 opens thus : — 

Inga lylet stands at the heavy quern and grinds 
away ; 

So well can she I 
Like a nightingale i* th* woodland, she sings so 
sweet a lay ! 

Her songs so pleasant be I 

The first ballad thus describes the effect 
of her strains: — 

So one she benn, so began she twae, 
So well can she I 
Then straight where the stream is running the ships oommenea to gaai 

Her songs so pleanaDt be ! 


And so qood she four, and so five qaod she then, 
So well can she i 
Till the king he fell a-daucing, the king and all his men ! 

Her songs so pleasant be ! 

18. ** The Lover's Night- Visit, or it lieder," they are full of original beauties. 

dawns too soon!" A. ii. 213, 215, 217. 
All three worthy of translation. Whether 
or not an imitation of the German '* Tage- 

Tne first contains the following splendid 
stanzas: — 


The watchman beginneth his song to channt so clear, 
*' Wake up now. Sir Knight, for the dawn right soon is here ; 
For the day I see so plainly from heaven above slow glide, 
And the little birds$ are singing in the plains around so wide !^ 

The maiden she out from her casement watched the mom; 
** No day it is as yet, thoogh the watchman blow his horn, 
'Tis but a blush which commonlie i>hines faint ere day doth spring ; 
He hes— that watchman wight*-and no good it shall him bring;" 

** Ah ! had I but the keys now to this out-shining day, 
1 far into th^ stormy sea would throw them quick away * 
Night, only night, we still should have; it ne*er again should dawn !** 
Alas ! they now must straightway part, who fain' would be at one .*|| 

* Beginning ** O gin my love were yon red rose !*' 
t See " Gemachte Blumeo," in *' Pes Knaben 
Wnnderhom," iii. 68. 

X *• The term lyU (little), so often annexed, to ex. 
press endearment, to the names of ladies in the 
Danish [and Swedish] ballads, is still in use in Cum- 
berland, and the northern counties of England.'* — 
JamU$on*0 P<^. Ballads, ii. S09. 

-^ It was the lark, the herald of the mom. 
No nightingale* — JBomeo and JulUt, 
Svaa Qiur own msaoUaas diamatist is equalled on 

his own ground by the Northern Bard. The pas- 
sionate exclamations of Juliet, in all their e^^quisite 
lieauty, do not surpass the Swedish maiden^ simple 
strain. There is a most remarkable affinity in the 
sentiments expressed. 

II •* Then vftchtar begynte een vijsa och qvftda ; 
I vakero p, min herre, thet daeats vpp& stundh ; 
Ty iagh seer dagen af himmclen nederskrijda. 
The foglar the aiunga i villande marken vijda,** 


ani $ohgi of StberfeA. 


19. "The Maideti*8 Triumph, or Love's 
artless Resource in the broldered Shirt." 
A. ii. 202. A very delicious sul^cct, of 
which there is a Danish copy.* 

20. ''The prudi;<h Mother and the dicing 
Daughter, or the King winneth a Bride and 
weareth her." A. ii. 252, Fresh and 
characteristic I 

21. ^* The Substitute, or the Nephew be- 
comes the Uncle, and each obtaineth his 
Lady-love." A. i. 4'JO. "A tery good 
song and very well ' writ.* " 

22. ^' The Love- Ambassador, an Ambas- 
sador for Love, or the King's Bride a mer* 
ciful Maiden." A. li. 117. We have one 
such subject in our ballad collections and 
only one ! Its rarity therefore enhances its 

23. *< The Dialogue well ended, or the 
Lovers* Quarrel " A. ii. 240. We give 
the fir:$t verse, in order to communicate the 
very singularf refrains : — 

A youth, he thai to his dearest said — 
•* Mjr heart's delight, 
Come now, and with me theaweet grove troad!** 
Roges and ihymea and lilies and parsleys, 
And eoloared mint and heart's delight ! 

21. '*The Dying Bride, or the Young 
Wife's Ck>un9eL" A. ii. 244. We extract 
the last four verses, for the half.playnil, half- 
melancholy, truths they contain : — 


*' And when ye've laid me on my bier, 
Then take that maid who stands me near ! 
When summer-time it cometh. 

** And when ycVe laid me in my grave, 
The maid that's next me shall ye have ! 
When summer-time it cometh. 

** Then home jre'II go and still your greet, 
She's soon forgot we ne*er more meet ! 
When summer-time it cometh. 


** Then home yell go and shut your door. 
They're soon forgot you ne'er see more !" 
When summer-time it eometh.t 

25. " The GirPs Marketing, or the curi- 
ous Maiden (becomes) (escapes becoming) 
the Shipper's Bride." G. 1. 92 ; A. i. 288. 
Both these songs ought to be translated. 

26. ** The Daughters restored, or the two 
pretty Weavers." G. iii. 40. A. ii. 195. 
Pull of old manners, and highly affecting. 
There is a Danish variation § 

• Nyerup, ii. 66; Syv, Pt. iv. No 40. 
t See note to ** Clerk Saaodors," in the Border 

I N&r I hafTcn lagd migh pa baren nidh, 
I tagen ihcn juiigfrun som stonder nast migh ; 

Sa vail ciuoth sommarsens tijdhe," dto. 
i Syrup, U. 146. 8y9, Pt. ti. No. 33. 

27. *' The rich Affianced gives her Spouse 
and Gold to her poor forsaken Sister." 6. 
i. 24 ; A. i. 29 1 • These are exceedingly 
valuable para Hols to well-known English and 
Scotch ballads* on the same subject. 

28. "The Song of the Dove, or the 
Maiden chosen for Eleaven goeth home to 
die." 6. iii. 27, 175. Very old and very 
(iflfectinj?. The latter, containing the ex- 
cuses ofthoat who will not die, is exceed 
inglv Ane. 

29. *• The Art of Wooing, or the Mothcr'a 
Advice." A. ii. 221. Full of rules show- 
ing a knowledge of the human bearti and of 
the chevalier-period when they were writ- 
ten. The last lines of this beautiful ballad 
are : — 

'* And (hough thy comrade thou well trust. 
Yet trust thyself the best" 

.'30. "The Wedding and the Funeral, or 
the young Bride's Prayer." G. iii. 30. 
Curious and melancholy. 

31. '' The playful Punishment, or the de- 
spised Suitor's witty Revenge." A. i. 3'^5. 
This excellent ballad is unfortunately im- 

32. ** The proud Maiden on Crutches, or 
the Lover's Insult punished." A. ii. 148| 
150. Singular and good. 

33. *' The pretended Death, or the Knight 
trieth hisf Betrothed." A. ii. 186. Ought 
to be translated. We have somewhere or 
other read a real or pretended Chinese tale, 
with a plot almost exactly similar. 

34 •' The Nun's Wish, or the Cloister 
too close." A. ii. 223. Very pretty, and 
perhaps connected with German originals. 
The following is the fourth verse : — 

They led her to the cloister in» 

Turee dishes meet her there ; 
The one wae Hunger, the other Tbintt 

The third was Watching nir ! 

35. ''Love and the Nun, or the Cloister 
robbed." G. ii. 179. This balUd, which 
reminds us of '« The Gay Goas-Hawk" ift 
the Border Minstrelsy,! is ee pretty that we 
cAust give it a place entire : — 


Sir Carl he in to hie foster-mother went, 
And much her rede he prayed •-— ^ 
** Say how from that cloister 1 may win 
My own, iny dearest maid 7**— 
Bat Sir Carl alone he slecpeth. 


• »* Lady Jane.'' Jomtesea'e Pop. Ballade, ii. 78 ; 

Fair Annie " ihid. li, 103. •• Lord Thomas and 
Fair Annie," .Sfco/l*s Border Mmslpclsy. 

t The euiry in '* Zadi^r" itf aomcwbat eimilar. 

t See aUo ab«>Te, No. 32 ; ** Miscellaneous Songs 
of Love and Women." No. 4 ; and "Songsof Tens 
LoTo. Fidelity," No. 7. 

The Old PopuUr BaUads. 



•* hkjr thee down ts rick, lay thee down u dead, 
6n thy bier all straii^ht be laid ; 
So then ibou oanst from that eloiater win 
Thy own, thv dearest maid !*' 
But Sir Carl alone he eleepetb. 


And in the little pages came, 
And clad in garments blue ; 
<• An please ye, fair virgin, i' th' chapel* to go, 
Sir Carl on*8 bier to view 7"— - 
Bat Sir Carl alone he sleepeth. 


And in the little pages came, 
AU dad in garments red ; 
•< An please ye, fair virgin, f th' chapel to wend, 
And see how Sir Carl liee dead?**-- 
But Sir Carl alone he sleepeth. 


And in the little pages came, 
AU clad in garments white: 
••An please ye, fair virgin, i' th' chapel to tread, 
Where Sir Carl lies in sUte eo brif^t r— 
Bat Sir Carl alone he sleepeth. 


And the May she in to her foster-mother went, 
And much *gan her rede to speer: 
•• Ah ! may I but in to the chapel go. 
Sir Carl there to see on his bier 7**— > 
But Sir Carl alone he sleepeth. 


*' Nay ! sure 1*11 give thee now no rede, 
Nor yet deny I thee : 
But if to the chapel to-night then goest, 
Sir Carl deeeiveth thee !"— 
Bnt Sir Carl alone he sleepeth. 

And the virgin trod within the door 

Sun.liket she shone so mild ; 
Bot Sir CarPs false heart within his breast 
It lay on the bier and smiled ! — 
But Sir Carl alone he sleepeth. 


And the virgin up to his head she stepped, 
Bat his fair locks she ne*er sees move :^ 
•• Ah, me ! while here on earth thou livMst, 
Thou dearly did'st me love !**— 
Bttt Sir Carl alone he sleepeth. 

And the viigin down to his feet she went. 
And lifts the linen white : — 
*• Ah, me ! while here on earth thou liv'dst. 
Thou wert my heart's delight \»^ 
But Sir Carl alone he sleepeth. 

And the viigin then to the door she went. 
And *' good night** bade her sisters last ; 
Bot Sir Carl, who opon his bier was laid ; 
He sprang up and held her fast i — 
But Sir Carl alone he sleepeth. 

•• Now carry out my bier again, 
Come pour the mead and wine ; 
For to-morrow shall my wedding stand 
With this sweetheart dear of mine 7" — 
But Sir Cari alone he sleepeth. 

• The Swedish ** Vakalugn,^ we have, in this In. 
stance, thought best translated as above. 

t The reader will remember that lAe wun is femi- 
nine in all the old Teutonic lanpruages ; in fact it is 
a frequent metaphor for the female beauty in the 
Scandinavian poets. 

And the cloister-nuns, the cloistflr.nuns» 
They read within their book : 
(< Some angel sure it was from heav'n, 
Who hence our sister took !" — 
\ But Sir Carl alone he sleepeth. 

. XIV. 
And the dotster-nuns, the cloister-nuns. 
They sung each separatelie ; — 
•• O Christ ! that such an angel came 
And took both me and Uiee !*' — 
Bnt Sir Carl alone he sleepeth.* 


A. Amazonian. 1. ** A Virgin Shield- 
Maid rescueth by strength of steel her 
(Brother) (Lover) from his dungeon/* 6. ii. 
168, 17 1. iii. 100 ; A. i. 188, ii. 120. Very 
singular echoes from the age of Hervara 
and of Alfhild ! The fourth copy strength- 
ens thie force of the lady's arm with an army 
of 8000 war-virgins ! 

9.. ^ A Knight defends his Sister till he 
can do it no longer, when she grasps his 
Sword and defends herself, slaying all op- 
posed to her ; whereupon the King, in ad. 
miration of her prowess, roaketh her his 
Spouse.*' A. i. 101. Short and spirited. 

8. *« The Feud, or the Sister (too late) 
(in time) to save her Brother." A. ii. 1% 
128. Curious pictures of past times I 

B. Miscellaneous. 4. '* A King's Son 
questioneth a Shepherd, and is wisely an- 
swered." 6. ii. 138. This, which is peN 
haps a fragment of a longer Danish hallad, 
contains the following pretty verses, which 
remind us of the wonderful riddles continually 
occurring in the old Icelandic sagas, and in 
the literature of the middle ages in general. 


*' Say ! what than any wheel is yet more lonnd ; 
And where the fairest creatures may be foond ; 
And where hath the sun her shining seat. 
And whither ever point the dead man's ieet T 


«« Who is*t that builds the broadest bridge that yet 

hath stood; 
And say ! where msh the fishes fastest in the 

flood ; 
And whither leads that road which still the 

broadest is ; 
And what is hight that conoh where man hath 

but miseries ? 

'* Say ! what than any coal is blacker far ; 
And what is quiclEer, faster, than lark-wings 

And what than even swans is yet more white ? 
And what cries with a louder voice than the 

crane doih in his flight 7** 

* *« Herr Carl Han gick fbt sin fosterroor in. 
Han fragade henne om rad : 
Hur* skalJ jag sk5na jungfrun 

Med mig ur klostret fa 7 

Men Herr Cari softer allena,'* dte. 


and Songt ofSvMdta. 


** Oh ym ! than tny wheel the enn'e moie round; 
And in heaven Uie iaireat craatnroe, I wot, are 
found ; 

• In the golden west hath the eon her fihinin; aeat ; 
And eastward ever point the dead man's feet ! 


«• Tia the ioe that builds the broadest bridm that 

/et hath stood ; 
under it (he fishes run fastest in the flood ; 
And eke to hoU that road doth lead which still 

the broadest is ; 
And hell fire is that eooch, where man hath but 

•• 'Tis sin than any coal is blacker far ; 
And the soul is quicker, faster, than larfc.wtnn 

And angels, e'en than swans, are yet more 

white ; 
And the thunder cries with a louder voice than 

the crane doth in his flight !"<^ 

5. *< A yoang Knight dies ia defence of 
his King's Banner." A. i. V.5. A very 
beautiful ballad, full of chivalry and faith. 

6. *« The young Duke put to death without 
cause." a. ii. 62. Perhaps of German 
origin. Good, and with the echo-chorus. 

7. *' A wicked Viking perisheth at Sea, 
according as his Mother had warned him." 
O. ii. 81^35; A. ii. 5. Deserves transla. 
tioD. Tbe shrift of the Jonas-Chief is very 
characteristic of that period of blood and 

8. •* A Viking's Adventures." A. i. 1 10. 
A splendid and genuine picture of the life of 
the roving ocean.kings. The bard traces 
the chieftain's course along the shores of 
Sweden and Norway, and up and down the 
Mediterranean, back again to Sweden, laden 
with seven camels^ and an enormous plunder 
in gold and valuables. 

9. *• A young Warrior slayeth the Mur- 
derer of his Father." A. i. 132. A fine 

10. •' The good Horn-Blast, or the Brother 
killeth Bandits wha have just murdered hi3 
Brother." A. ii. 81. A short sketch of a 
once common eventi when roads were wild, 
and forests still wilder. 

11. ''A Knight rescueth his Sister from 
a Band who are carrying her away." A. 
i. 186. 


And thank now God, as is meet and fit,— 

So fair a maid ! 
That thy brother took thee, a maid as yet ! 

Gnard thee well. Sir Oler. 

•• Hvad ar det som i&r rondare An ett hjul ? 
Och hvar finner du de fagraste djur 7 
Ofh hvar bafver Solea sittsaie 7 

Hvartiitat lig ger dedrntnaena fitter 7» dbe. 

12. '* The Fratricide's Lament and Dia- 
logue with his Mother, before he wanders 
away from his Home for ever." G. iii. 3 ; 
83, 66. Very remarkable variations of 
celebrated British ballads.* 

13 *• The Poisoner poisoned, or the 
Step- Mother destroyeth her:»elf instead of 
her Sle(>-Sons." A. ii. 92 Should be trans, 
lated as a short illustration of Sir W. 
Scott's Border Minstrelsy, Art. *' Lord 

14. '* The Lament and Testament of the 
dying May, poisoned by her Nurse and Siep- 
Mother." G. iii. 18 ; A. ii. 90. Very 
affecting, and married to an inexpressibly 
melancholy melody. We have two songs 
nearly aHied in subject.')' 

15. "The Queen's Imprecalion fulfilled, 
and the iiinocent Gaoler's cruel Death.'* 
A. ii. 1 13. Singular and tragical enough! 

XL Caricature SoNos, or Parodies of 
THE CHAHPiotf Ballad. 

Although every country has not had its 
Cervantes, mocit have produced some author 
who has endeavoured to annihilate the' gen* 
eral tane still existing, for what had already 
lost its spirit hod applicability for the change 
ed circumstances of a new era.]: Of this 
character are the following pieces, valuable 
for their humour, not less than for tbeir 

1. " A ryghte merrie Description of a 
Giant's Fyghtes." A. i. 114. This is in. 
deed an excellent ballad, full of wit and of 
a joyous spirit. But it is unfortunately too 
long (iwenty.five stanzas of six lines) to 
translate here. We give one stanza as a 
specimen : — the hero is battling with a giant 
'' forty ells broad and well a hundred long.' 


TJie next roand that these champions hadf 

How each did fume and frown ! 
The great blue mountain ander them 
To clay they trampled down :*- 
" 'Tis fierce, this sport,** the giant muttered; — 
" Tis scarce begun as yet," said Ramunder the 

2. ** The Champion killeth his Thousands, 
and winneth his Maid." G. i. |6 ; A. ii. 

• M Edward. Edward." Perey*$ Reliques. i. 57. 
** The twa Brothers," Jamteson, i. 60. There is 
also a curious copy, called Werinen P«jka (The 
bloody Son) in Fmnish, translated into German by 
SchroUr in his »* Finnisclie Runen,** p. 124, and 
into Swedish by Arwiduortt FoIiiTisor, ii. 88. 

t »'Tho Cruel Brother, or the Bride's Testa, 
ment'*— JamiesoM, i. 66 ; •• Lord Randal'*~^ce(|>tf 

t The Monk contains ono of the best in'^oor lan- 
guage by Lewie on himself. * 


TkB Old Popuhr BaUada mi Songi of Stoeden. 


190. An admirable travestie of the old 
Champion-Saga. The melody is full of 
energy. The balla(^ is too long for abridg- 
ment (containing fifty Terses). The follow* 
ing is the first stanza : 

In Northland't high hills aat two cbtmpioiift to 

Witli a " Merria gfx>d night" each sainted his fere. 
But who so well our Rones shall wield 
With that honour? 

8. **The humorous Courtship of two 
Rivals ends with a Duel* in which the Hus- 
band is slaiuy and the Victor and the Bride 
are gladly married." 6. iL 141 ; A. i. 
274. A strange subject strangely treated. 
We doubt whether the gravest reader would 
not laugh as willingly as any reader of Don 

4. ^ The Monster and theFighting-Monk." 
A. i. 417. This ballad, of which there is a 
Danish copy,* is full of the broadest carica- 

XIL The Historical Leobndart Ballad. 

a minstrel- versifier so fhr north, for it is not 
a tranelalion, but an original composition. 

10. «« Saint Steffitn's (Stephen's) Prophecy, 
or the Stone in the Green Vale." G. iii. 218. 
This ancient spae-song reminds us imme- 
diately of our Merlin and Thomas the Ry- 
mer, &c. 

11. ^^King Sverker, or the Baffle of 
Lena." (1208.) A. ii. 846, 348. 350. 
Very vigorous and border It 
exists more complete in Danish.* The fol- 
lowing is the last verse, (omitting the re* 
frains) : 

£2ach ladie stands in her lofty bower, 
And waits her lord within his hall j— • 

Their horses gaUop bleeding home, 
Bat empty are their saddles all ! 

A. Sacred. 1. *< Susanna in Babylon." 
A. ii. 342. Not remarkable. 

2. **'The fair and martyred Dorothea, or 
the Conversion of Tbeophilus." G. ii. 239. 
A very frood monk- legend in rhyme. 

8. '* The Heathen Princess in her Gar- 
den, or the Conversion to Christianity." Q. 
ii. 78. Very long and very pretty, but, at 
least in its preseni form, scarcely to be judged 
ancient^ though certainly old. 

4. *'The Ballad of Saint George and the 
Dragon.*' G. ii. 254. This fashionable 
saint (highly honoured in the north) has 
thus seen his fame extend even to ultima 
nule itself 1 

5. «* Saint Steffan's (Stephen's) Song." 
G. iii. 208, 210. A curious national song 
of a Swedish saint and horat-pairon — we 
hope Doncaster and the turf will take the 
hint 1 It is popular everywhere, but espe- 
cially in the province of Helsingland, the 
scene of his labours. 

6. " The Journey Eastward, or the spirit- 
ual Bridegroom's Song." G. ii. 235. A 
confused John Bunyan rhapsody. 

7. *'The Vision, or Heaven and Hell 
described." G. ii. 233. Simple, and not 

8. ^ The Magdalen, or Sin forsaken and I 
Penitence proved." G. ii. 229 ; A. i. 377. Sture's victory 
Curious and good ; worthy of translation. 

B. Profane. 9. "Paris and Helena." A. 
iu 329, 335. Very old and very good. It is 
singular that such a subject should have found 

12. '' The Sons of King Valdemar." A. 
ii. 363. A very brilliant rescue-song. 
Weil deserves translation. 

13. *^ Queen Damnmi's (Dagmar's of 
Denmark) Death." (1213.) A. ii. 353. 
Very fine, but exists more complete in 
Danish! The fame of the good Queen 
Margaret (whose beauty and goodness gain- 
ed her the name of Dammar—- Morning Star, 
Maid of Day) extended even to the Feroe 

14. ^* Queen Bengjerd (of Denmark.)** 
(1213.) A. )i. 859. A highly valuable and 
humorous ballad over the extortions and 
death of this queen, so hated in her country 
for malice and oppression, that '* a curned 
wife" obtained after her, says the Chronicle, 
the name of Bengjerd, (Berengard) § 

15. ^* King Birgcr and his Bt others, or 
Brunke's Treachery." (1818.) G. i. 180. 
A long, retouched ballad of the horrible 
murders which lost Birger his crown and 
life, and drove his dynasty from the throne I 

16. "King Albrekt." (1410.) A. ii. 
867. A good rhyming-chronicle ballad.«>^ 
See the E^nish copy.|| 

17. **A Ballad of the Campaign ill the 
Uand of Gottland." (1449) G. ii. 270. 
Not without value for the details of Swedish 

18. "The Murder. of Thord Bonde." 
(1456.) G. it. 288. A curious ballad, 
which supplies us with the date of the as- 
sassination of this great Swedish patriot. 

19. "TheBaltleat Brunkeberg." (1471.) 
G. ii. 263. A valuable illustration of Stan 

Nymrup, 1. 167 ; Sy9, 663. 

♦ Nyerup, ii. 107 ; Syv, Pt ii. No 20. 

t Nyetttp, ii. 87 ; Syv. Pi. ii. No. 20. 

X Seo ** Feroiske Swasder af Lyngbye,^ p. 556. 

4 HtitfeUPt IHntk Chrdnica, i. 94, (ed. 1600). 

||i«y€rtt|i,ii.288$ Syv. Pt ti. No. 44. 


Sdmwmm ^miqmkm. 


20. «• The Battle at Stangebro." (1518.) 
Q. i. 245 ; A. li. 873. A popular subject. 

21. *• The Battle of Brankyrka." (1518.) 
G. ii. 2)02. In this battle the Great Banner 
of Sweden was carried by Gustaf Ericson 
Vasa — (the illustrious Gustaf I.) 

22. •* King Gustaf 1. and the Dalecar- 
lians.'' G. ii. 206, 271. A famous old 
Dalecarlian chaunt. 

23. •« Duke Magnus (Son of Gustaf I.) 
and the Mermaid." G. iii. 178. A beau- 
tiful liallad, in which the mermaid punishes 
with insanity the young prince's refusal to 
bclroih her. The Duke was actunlly mad, 
and passed the latter years of his life in re- 
tirement in Ostergothiand. One day he 
threw himself, says tradition, from his castle- 
window into the water, but was taken up 
Dohurt. It was, he explained, because two 
pretty arms had caught him lightly as he 
fell, for the beautiful mermaid had beckoned 
to him from below to come to her ! 

24. «*King Christinn IV. in Sweden.'* 
(1612, iSsq.) A. ii. 376. An old ballad- 
journal, written during the war. 

25. "The Battle of Helsingborg." 0710.) 
A. ii. 387. A spirited pasquille. 

26. "The March of King Charles XH." 
A. ii. 391. Full of fresh and national en- 
ergy. Tradition reports that **the great 
mad warrior king" used, before his engage- 
ments, to let his troops chaunt together the 
old psalm. 

Our cattle stronj^ the Lord he is ! 

and afterwards sing the above marcht which 
is said to have been composed by the great 
Ma);nu8 Stenbock* 

27. '' The King and Sir Peter, or Charles 
XII. at Narva." G. i. 201. 

28. *' The Battle of Narva." A. ii. 382. 
Not bad imitations of the old champLon*baU 

29. •• Malcolm Sinclair." (1739.) G. i. 
220. This long and excellent ballad be- 
longs in fact to the class of Dialogues of 
the Dead, the personages introduced being 
the twelve Swedish Charleses, and our hero, 
who was murdered on his return from Bres- 
lau, in 1739. 

30. *' The song of the Barn-fowl- woman," 
(from 1650 to 17.50); Ditto, Continuation, 
(from 1750 to 1780). G. ii. 290, 297. An 
historical allegorical list of the Regents of 
Sweden during this period. 

The promised third volume of Herr Ar- 
widsson, containing the Sport and Dance 
Rhymes, Shepherd and Nursery Songs, 6kc. 
has nt>t yet appeared. We look for its pub- 
lication with great impatience. The subject 
is rich and highly interesting.. Of one thing, 

however* we are sore, that it cannot fiUl inta 
better hands. 

Having thus travelled over this long pa* 
noraina of Northern Ballad Literature, an 
exposition which has certainly been too long 
for many, and perhaps too short for some 
few, we have only to conclude by recom* 
mending the perusal of the originals by all 
whose knowledge of their language may 
enable them to enjoy that pleasure* If not, 
the many German translations, in whole or 
in part, will afford an excellent svcesilaiisiiiik 

*' And now once more farewell to minstrelt bold, 
Whose manly Jaye the manliest actions told. 
And from the wizard's sleijrht and darksome cell. 
From the brave knfght and lieauteoiu damoeel, 
From the hiffh tilt and tourney of tlie past,' 
Which like Mom's ▼isions, were too bright to last, 
We wend us homeward to our lowly cot, 
And in life's miseries all is fast forgot. 
The enchanted path fades qaick upon oar vieWf 
The love of oUen time, tender and trae, 
The helmed warriors ▼iewed by beauty's glance, 
Of fiercer temper than Astolpbo's lance. 
Striving to win her soul-subduing sense,' 
Which beat the champions through their flrmett 

fence — 
For lady's looks pierce wairiora' firmest mail, 
And stoutest hearts before the softest quail. 
'Tis vanish'd all— how darksome grows the hour, 
In which the gnomes of earth resume their power ; 
Who keep ns, like the griffins, bent on gold. 
Withdrawing as from all that'b high and bold ; 
And making us mere creaiures of the mine, 
Condemn us o'er accursed gold to pine ; 
Cramping the fancy's wandering pare and high, 
Aad dooming all the beautiful to die.'* . 

Art. III. — Slnv>an$ke Starozitnoiti* Sep$al 
Pawel Josef Safarik. Oddil Degepisny. 
W. Praze. (Sclavonian Antiquities. Com* 
piled by Paul Joseph Safarik. Historical 
Part. Prague.) 1837. Vol. 1. PostSvo. 

It has been remarked of rivers in general^ 
that in the earlier part of their course ihsy 
often rush with noisy violence, threatening 
to swell into a torrent that shall deluge the 
adjacent country ; but as their channel be- 
comes more wido and deep, they roll their 
waters so calmly, that towards the end of' 
their career each wave may be separately 
numbered. We thiuk that in this fact a 
mirror is held up to man, and this simile, 
may illustrate the observation of the phiioso* 
pher, that only that man is capable of com* 
prehending or of writing history, whose own 
life has been a history in itself. The same 
is equally applicable to individual nations, 
and we have been especially struck with the 
truth of the foregoing remark whilst consid. 
eiing the history of the moat numerous of 

Sdmwmian jlntiquHui* 


the nations of Europe. It does indeed bor- 
der on the marvellous, that of the seventy 
millions of ihe Si-lavonian race settled in the 
heart of Europe from the remotest antiquity 
so little should yet be known. Nay» even 
their existence has been questioned by some, 
and positively denied by others; and this 
during the very period when they mixed 
with every other European nation* This 
ignorance concerning their history in the 
earlier ages originated in part from their 
country never having been conquered by the 
Roman world-enslaverS} and in part from 
the fault common to historians, who prefer- 
red to dwell on themes of war, and left un- 
noticed the peaceful virtues of the Sclai onian 
&mily— for such they will ever remain in 
the eye of heaven and earth — who devoted 
themselves to agriculture, the arts, and the 
other pursuits connected with real civilisa- 
tion. During the middle ages, although they 
played a prominent part in the affairs of 
£uropo, little, beside their name, seems to 
have been known of them beyond their own 
limits ; in more modern times, the case was 
still the same, and it is only Istely, when, 
owing to the misfortunes of Poland, and the 
ambition of Russia, some anxiety and jeal- 
ous suspicions have been awakened in other 
states, that a desire for anything like accu- 
rate historical information respecting the 
Sclavonian race has been manifested in 
Western Europe. The absence of correct 
notions on this subject in modern times is 
mainly attributable to those German authors 
who, as M. Safarik observes, know how to 
write volumes of details respecting some 
obscure Indian tribe, whilst in their igno- 
rance of the language and history of their 
Sclavonian neighbours they have circulated 
concerning them a prodigious mass of misdi- 
rected information. Since the general peace, 
however, they have done much to compen. 
sate for their former fault, and the learned 
researches of their Niebuhr and J. Grimm, 
— together with those of Naruszewicz, Osso- 
linski, and Lelewe! amongst the Poles, — of 
Karamzin, a Russian, — and of Dobrowsky, 
Palacky, and, above all, of M. Safarik, Bo- 
hemians, — have left no portion of the ancient 
history of the Sclavonians unexplored. The 
great importance of this subject, still further 
enhanced by the influence which the destiny 
of this people now exerts on the affairs of 
the world, has not been overlooked by the 
French government, which, in the spriner of 
last year, appointed the celebrated Polish 
poet, Adam Mickiewicz, Professor of Scla- 
vonian Literature and History at the College 
de France : a man eminently qualified for 
the task, and who, during the short period of 
his professorship of Latin literatttre at the 

university of Lausanne, so won opon the 
esteem of his hearers and of the government 
that he received many honourable distinc- 
tions above the rest of his colleagues. A 
periodical also lately set up in Paris, entitled 
La Revue Slave, and exclusively devoted to 
this subject, still further attests the growing 
interest in this branch of literary research. 
The Germans, emulating their French 
neighbours, are making collections of the 
Sclavonian legendsy songs, and relics of an- 
tiquity, scattered amongst them, which for 
centuries have been trodden down and buried 
in obscurity. Nehher have we remained 
idle spectators of the awakening activity in 
this aepartment of letters, having on two 
former occasions drawn the attention of our 
readers to the subject of Polish literature, 
and we now gladly embrace the opportunity 
of encouraging our fellow labourers by testi- 
fying our sympathy with them, although* 
separated from them by an abyss of waves* 
we have it not in our power to take a more 
active part in their exertions. As contribu- 
tors to a Journal consecrated to foreign mat- 
ter, it is part of our duty to watch the pro. 
ceedings of our continental neighbours, and 
should we perceive the signs of some gaiber- 
infj^ storm that menaces to break over the 
Briton, to give him timely warning of the 

With this feeling we now turn to M. Sa. 
farik, who has proved our agreeable com- 
panion and guide through the long course of 
fifteen remote centuries, furnishing, from his 
perfect knowledge of all ancient and modem 
languages, full answers to all our questions. 
Gifted with an owl-like vision, whicn enables 
him to penetrate through the obscurity that 
would baffle any other, with an enduring 
patience that carries him without weariness 
through the minutest details, and with a rich 
imagination ever kept in check by sound 
judgment, M. Safarik, as the alchymist of 
old, converts into precious metal whatever 
matter is brought into the crucible of his 
powerful mind. The work in question, and 
to which he has devoted his existence, though 
bearing only the modest title of ** Sclavonian 
Antiquities/' deserves to be classed amongst 
the best historical compositions of modem 
times. It is intended to be complete in two 
large volumes, of which, as far as we are 
aware, the first only has yet been published, 
and contains the political histoid of the 
Sclavonian race. In the second he proposes 
to treat of its religion, literature, arts, gov- 
ernment, legislation, customs, &c. M. Sa* 
farik has divided his subject into two peri- 
ods; the first beginning with the historic 
era, or Herodotus (456, B. C.,) and extend- 
ing to the M of the empiro of the Hans and 


SeJawman ^tdiijuiHet. 


of that of the Romans in the west (469-476, 
A. D.) The second period embraces the 
next six centaries, find reaches to the middle 
of the tenth century, at which time Christi- 
anity was introduced amongst the greater 
portion of the Sclavontans. 

The preliminary inquiry, whether the 
Sclavonians are to be considered members 
of the Indo-European family of nations, and 
which has never until now been satisfactorily 
resolved, M. Safarik answers in the affirma- 
tive, and brings proofs in support of his as- 
sertion calculated to remove all further 
doubt. His opinion is based on the close 
alliance of the Sclavonic idiom with the 
Greek, Latin, Celtic, Thracian, German, 
and Medo-Persian, all of which are again 
more or less like the Sanscrit. The resem- 
blance between the Sclavonic and the Greek 
is so strong, that the learned professor Dan- 
kowski, of the university of Presburg, pro. 
Dounced the latter to be a Sclavonic dialect, 
which seems still further to corroborate the 
statement of our author. The physical and 
moral constitution also of the Sclavonians, so 
analogous to that of the other primitive Eu- 
ropean races, furnishes another weighty evi- 
dence on this subject. 

The second, but not less important ques- 
tion, whether the Sclavonians are one of the 
primitive races of Europe, in other wordj«, 
whether they were settled there before the 
commencement of the historic era, is again 
decided affirmatively by equally unanswera- 
ble arguments. According to M. Safarik 
they were known to the Greeks under the 
foreign appellation of Bnetoi ; to the Romans 
under that of Venetse, Veneti, Vineti, Vena- 
di, and to the Germans, under that of Win. 
den or Wenden. The nations of the north- 
em family also knew them as the Wene or 
Wanna, and in the Edda frequent mention 
is made of them as the Vanar, and of their 
land as Fanaheim (the abode of the Vanar). 
The ancient Greek tradition of the northern 
amber country possessed by the Veneti, of 
the river Eridanus,* may be traced as far 
back as the sixth century before the Christian 
era; and Herodotus must have been ac- 
quainted with its exact situation, but pur- 
posely concealed it, ns it was said, because 
he was himself concerned in the amber trade. 
There is not any doubt that the Eridanusf 

• Her. Scb weigh, iii. 115. 

t Larcher in evidently wrong as well as ReanelJ 
in imagining that the insignificant tributary to the 
Viatala, the Rhodanns, was the river in question. 
The Dwina folly answos the description, vpi; dopn^ 
oH^ov, which the Vistula docs not. The geaeral 
ran of Dictionaries are absolutely useless on tho 
northern Eridanus, evidently imagining that the 
Padua alone answers tu it. Charles Stephens states 
that the Rhodanoa (Rhone) waa called by the 
Gieeke Eridanus. Donegan gives, with cbaracteris. 


was no otiier than thi9 Dwina ; and the am. 
her, transported first by that river, then by 
the Vistula, and, thirdly, from the mouth of 
the Oder, was finally carried overland to 
Marseilles, where it was sold to the southern 
nations. When the (loths made themselves 
masters of the shores of the Baltic towards 
the middle of the fourth century, A. C, the 
name of the northern Veneti was trans- 
ferred to those dwelling^by the Adriatic, and 
that of the Eridanus to Padus and RhodanuSy 
and this was the origin of that celebrated 
controversy respecting the amber country 
and the Eridanus, which engaged so much 
attention both in ancient and modern times. 
The Veneti of the Adriatic, as well as the 
ancient inhabitants of Pannonia and Illyria* 
before the irruption of the Celtic nations in 
the fourth century of the Christhin era, ^re, 
according to M. Safarik, equally of Sclavo- 
nian origin. The principal seat, however, 
of the Veneti, and which they have nevet 
abandoned, lay between the Carpathian 
mountains and the Baltic, the Vistula and 
the Upper Volga, the Don and the Black 
Sea. Many opinions are held respecting 
the meaning of the names Veneti and Win. 
den, which are still applied by the Germans 
to the Sclavonians, though they seem never 
to have been their domestic appellations, but 
no positive conclusion on the subject has yet 
been drawn. The root is Vind, or Vend, 
the first of which is considered the more 
correct, as the letter t is more ancient than 
e, and because we also find Vindhia in the 
Sanscrit. It is usually referred to the San- 
scrit und, to fiow, to be fluid, and we have 
the Latin unda ; Sclavonian onda ; French 
OTide ; i >ld German undea, unda, undia 
(fiuctus) ; Old Saxon tUhia ; Anglo-Saxon 
ydh^ &C. : and also to the Sanscrit vda^ udU' 
kdj water; Greek udr/Tf udcLS; Latin udor^ 
udus ; Gothic wato; Old Saxon watar; Skan- 
dinavian wazar ; Sclavonian tooda ; Lithua* 
nian wandu; Danish vand; Celtic wandf 
wend (pluvies), vin (aqua), van, vonan, to 
fiow, &c. Consonant to this etymology, 
Vineti would mean the dwellers near seas 
and rivers, but this seems untenable, since. 
\vc find it applied to mountains, — as, for 
instance, Vindhia in India and Vindius in 
Spain. It may perhaps be more correctly 

tic aocuracj, Eridanof. The Po and Bhone. He. 
rodot 2, 115, instead of 3, 115. A river sappoeed 
to have its source in the Riphaean Mountains. But- 
ler, proh pudor ! only gives the Po, Is the term 
applied to any torholent stream 7 Hesiod. Theogi 
338. HptSanw BoMipnv. Baehr, whoae Herodotna 
is full of deep research, makes an admission, that 
docs more honour to his candour than learning, 
'^Qoi verum ejus situm indagare velit eum tl«- 
qotdquam profectorum eaee patem.** 
* IXXvpiAw Erar•^ Her. Sctaweigb. i. 96^ 


Selavoman Amiqmiiu* 


derived from Hindi or Indi, as to may in 
such case be merely an aspiration which 
sometimes occurs, and also because the San- 
scrit h is often changed in other languages 
into V. Take, for instance, the Sanscrit 
vidaha^ Latin viJtia, Sciavonian todenoa or 
vdova. This question, however, must still 
be left open. 

M. Safarik has also solved, much to our 
satisfaction, another difficult problem re^ 
garding the domestic appellation by which 
the Scmvonians designated themselves, and 
it appears that this was no other than that 
of Sirbi, which name is mentioned by Pliny, 
and also by Ptolemy, with the slight varia- 
tion of Serbi and Sirboi. In Frocopius and 
others we find Ib'pori substituted for Sorbi. 
Sirb, Serb, or Sorb means in Sclavonic satuSf 
naiusj gens, naiio^ end numerous words are 
derived from it which still bear the primitive 
signification. Its root is found in the Sanscrit 
iUy to generate, to produce ; Latin sevi, sa- 
iumf derived from sererej sc'Sere (self-redu- 
plication). This mode of deriving the na- 
tional name from such a source is common 
to almost all primitive races, before they be- 
come estranged from the simplicity of na- 
ture by the refinements of civilisation. Thus 
the Germans, known to fbreigners by vari- 
ous names, call themselves diutisk, ieusch, 
deutsche^ from the Gothic thiuda (natio^ 
gens) ; Finnish tauta. The ancient Skan- 
dinavians used to call their country Mana- 
beim, that is, abode of men. 

We proceed under M. Safarik*s guidance 
to notice, as far as our limits will allow, the 
nations which seuled for a time in the midst 
of the Sclavonians, or dwelt in their vicini- 
ty. Of these, part belonged to the Indo-Eu- 
ropean family, and part to the northern. 
The latter, a numerous primitive race, set- 
tled before the historic era in the north of 
Europe and Asia, was ^ divided into two 

freat branches : the Western, or the Tshoud 
^'nnish ; and the Eastern, or the Tshoud 
Uralian, from whom the Huns, Spali, Ska- 
mani, Sabiri, dsc. derived their origin. 

The ancient Scythians, under which name 
the inhabitants of all the northern region of 
Europe and Asia were for a long period 
comprised, first attract our attention. They 
were a Mongolian race, the ancestors of the 
Tatars of modern times, and belonged to the 
northern family. Herodotus found them in 
the sixth century settled between the Don 
and the Dnieper, whither, according to their 
own account of themselves, they had migrat- 
ed from Asia, probably from the country of 
Orenburgh. He^ tells us that they called 
themselves Skolotoi, from the names of one 

* Hen. Schweigh. iv. %» 

of their kings, whieh name probably dkl not 
last long beyond the reign in which it was 
assumed, and that the Greeks called them 
Skuthai, Scythss ; but his statement may be 
incorrect, the first of these words being evi- 
dently a corrupt diminution of the secondy 
which again, as it has no root in Greek, is 
most probably a oorruption, or rather an 
inadequate expression for the word Tshoud, 
which the Sclavonians apply to all the na* 
tions of the northern fiimily. The English 
word Tsboud is, however, very far Arom 
being the correct expression of the Sclavo- 
nic Cud, for the consonant C is hard, and is 
variously spelt in Sclavonic, as Scud, Csud, 
or Czud, which it would be impossible to 
render in Greek otherwbe than by Skuthes, 
Skuthai, Scythss. The Sclavonic Cud sig- 
nifies gigas^ manstrum, — an appellation 
which, like that we have already fldluded to, 
is common to many primitive nations. The 
domestic name of the Tshoud is Suoma, 
Suome, Suomi, Sabme, (men, nation), Suo- 
malainen, Suoma, (the land of Suoma.) In 
the time of Herodotus, the western portion 
of (he Tshoud on the Baltic was broken 
down by the Sclavonians, who, on the other 
hand, in the south, were themselves partly 
under the dominion of those Scythians call- 
ed by Herodotus Royal Scythians ; whilst 
their subjects, whom he speaks of as agri- 
cultural Scythians, were Sclavonians, and 
difiTered from their masters in language, 
manners, n)ode of life, and external appear- 

The Scythian empire in the south of Eu- 
ropean Russia was overthrown about A. D. 
94 by the SarmatSB, SaramatSB, or Sarma- 
thians,—- a MedoPersian people appertaining 
to the Indo-European family. Tiieir name, 
still in use timongst some of the Asiatic 
tribes, means << inhabitants of a steppe," and 
that they difiered essentially from the Scla- 
vonians is apparent from the description of 
them left by Hippocrates and Tacitus. 
Having established themselves on the ruins 
of the Scythian empire, between the Don, 
the Dnieper, and the mouth of the Danube, 
whither they had migrated from their former 
seat between the Don and the Caspian S^ 
ihey became known in history under three 
names, designating as many principal tribes 
— the Roxolani, the Jazygae or Jaxamatae, 
and the Alani or Asi. The Alani entered 
into close alliance with the Goths, at the 
time the last mentioned people migrated, 
A. D. 180—215, from the shores of the 
Baltic to those of the Black Sea, and the 
two nations carried on war together against 
the Vanar or Sclavonians, a portion of 
whom, the dwellers in the Ukraine, Podo- 
lis, Volhynia, and White Russia, they sue- 


Seliwmian AnHjuiHiu. 


ceeded in sufafagatiog. The Gk>th8 derived 
from tbe Asi, the Asar of the Edda {heroa^ 
divu8)f many religious ceremonies, and even 
the celebrated hero Odin, to whom in afler 
times divine honours were paid, was of the 
nation of the Asi. ' The arrival of the Huns 
was the signal for the destruction of their 
united empire ; some of the Sarmates join- 
ed the Vandals and crossed over to Africa ; 
others fied back for refuge to the Caucasus, 
their ancient country, where now, under 
the name of Abassi or Abassians, they are 
being exterminated by the Russians. A 
third portion, the Jazygae, fled to the woods 
and marshy lands of Podlachia, where the 
remnant of their descendants were destroyed 
in the 13th century by a King of Poland. 
Short as was the period during which the 
Sarmates held dominion over a part of the 
Sclavonians, the Byzantine and Latin his- 
torians continued nevertheless up to the 
tenth century to designate under their name 
all the inhabitants of the north of Europe, 
who were in fact Sclavonians, Tshouds, 
Turks, Mongols, and Germans. At this 
day the name of Sarmates is still sometimes 
applied to the Poles, especially by poets, but 
it is time that even these should discontinue 
to do 80, since however poetical the name 
may sound in their ears, the use does not 
tell much in favour of their historical know- 

About the middle of the fburth century, 
the Sclavonian countries were visited by 
three consecutive and horrible irruptions of 
the Celtic or Grallie nations. " Their coun- 
try being over-crowded by its population,'* 
says Polybius, alluding to these events, '* the 
€Mli were seized with a kind of feverish 
frenzy, and during many years there was 
neither term nor measure to'their expedi. 
tions beyond the Rhine." In our days the 
French have exhibited a repetition of this 
spectacle, and history is constrained ever 
and anon to bear witness to the words of the 
Preacher — ''There is nothing new under 
the suti." The Galli either forced the Sola* 
vonians to absndon Pannonia and Illyricum, 
or after having exterminated a portion of 
them, must have subjugated others, and sold 
many as slaves to the Greeks, by whom they 
were called Dacus and Greta. The Thracian 
nations settled in Dacia, in the neighbour- 
hood of tbe Sclavonians, being also compelled 
to yield a part of their country to the same 
infers, fell in their turn upon the Scyth- 
ians. Several of these Celtic or Grallie 
nations, known under the various situa- 
tions of Boil, Ombroni, Kothini, Anarti, 
Taurisci, Bastarni, Peucini, &C, then set- 
tled in Pannonia, Illyricum, Thracia, Dacia, 

Macedonia* and even beyond the Carpathian 
Mountains, on the Pruth, the Dniester, the 
Boh, and near the sources of the Vistula 
and the Oder. Thus the history of the 
ancient Celts became in many points con- 
nected with that of the Sclavonians, and 
numerous Celtic words are still to be found 
in the Sclavonic language, especially such 
as designated their various divinities, idols, 
and religious ceremonies. M. Safarik pro- 
poses to furnish instances of these iq the 
second volume of his work, and in the mean 
time he appeals to antiquarians, remarking 
that very little has been done in our days 
towards the investigation oC Celtic idioms 
and antiquities. 

In the west and north-west, the Sclavonians 
carried on perpetual warfare with the Geiv 
mans, the limits between the two nations 
being, according to Tacitus, mountains and 
mutual fear. The Oder was, however, the 
proper boundary, and the country lying 
between that river and the Vistula had been 
from time immemorial the theatre of their 
aninnosity. The populous nation of the 
Suevi settled in the immediate vicinity of 
the Sclavonians, as did also the Vandals, a 
bastard people composed of Celtes, Germans 
and Sclavonians, whose name, considered 
as one rather of ignominy, was a corrupt 
diminutive of Veneti. 

To the north of the Veneti dwelt the 
Lithuanian people, known as the Lithu- 
anians properly so called, the Prutzi or 
Prussi, Galindi, dec., a Sclavonian race, as 
is proved by their language, although they 
were estranged by early isolation from the 
creat family. It would appear that the 
Lithuanians, having gained their country 
by conquest from tbe Tshoud Finns, had 
not entirely exterminated the latter, but had 
amalgamated with them, and that they again 
were in their turn early subjugated by the 
Goths. Their very name goes to prove the 
latter fact. This circumstance may account 
for the considerable variation of their idk>m 
from the true Sclavonic, which has ever 
preserved its independence. It is an admit- 
ted fact, that the mixture of foreign idioms 
with an original language has the e£^t of 
petrifying it, as it were, within its grammat- 
ical forms, whilst an unmixed language 
undergoes by the mere lapse of time many 
changes in its structure. Hence it is that 
the Lithuanian has preserved its primitive 
forms, and bears more resemblance to. 
Asiatic idioms than does the Sclavonic, 
which latter grew freely, like a magnificent 
tree, sending forth branches, boughs and 
blossoms. The Lithuanian lansuage is 
now confined to the lowest class of the peo- 


Sid0P!imtQ» AntiqMitiu^ 


.pSOytbe middle and upper classes having 
been Polonised since the union of Lithuania 
with Poland in the I4th ccr.tury. 

We close our list of nations connected 
with the Sc!avonians, by the Huns, the 
ipost celebrated amongst the destroyers of 
the Roman empire, and whose appearance 
in Europe produced another chaos, such an 
overturning of established nations and em* 
pires, and setting up of new ones, as has 
only been witnessed once since, after the 
lapse of fifteen centuries. 

They also were members of the northern 
family, a Uralian or Eastern Tshoud peo- 
ple (the ancestors of the subsequent Avares 
and Magyars or Hungarians), who had mi- 
grated from the country now possessed by 
the Bashkirs, or Paskatir, called at this day 
the Great Hunia by the natives, with whom 
the word chum, hum, kum, signifies many an 
appellation common to almost every primi- 
tive people. Having left their country about 
the historic era, they wandered for some 
time^ between the Volga, the Don, and Cau- 
casus, whence, in 374 A. D., they turned 
their course to southern Russia, and over- 
threw the empires of the Ostrogoths and 
Alani. The terror they inspired may be 
gathered from the belief that became preva- 
lent amongst the nations whom they van- 
3uished, that they were the ofispriog of 
evils and witches (Aliorumen and Arlen.) 
It seems that they remained on good terms 
with the' Sclavonians, the murder of whose 
Jiing, Box (Boos, Boz^), with that of bis sons 
and seventy of his grandees, they avenged 
upon the Goths. Thev reached the zenith of 
their power under Attila, the Napoleon of his 
times, who has been alike unjustly treated 
both by his contemporaries and by subse- 
<|uent historians, since, notwithstanding the 
injurious epithets bestowed upon him, he has 
never been convicted of any deliberate act 
of cruelty. There can be no doubt that 
during his invasion of the Roman empire at 
the head of 700,000 warriors he was ac- 
companied by many Sclavonians, snd the 
silence of historians respecting them is not 
more remarkable than that a simitar in. 
Tasion of Russia by Napoleon should be 
usually desiitnated as that of the French only, 
although half Europe took part in it. The 
co^peratran of the Sclavonians, and their 
alliance with the Huns, is fully borne out by 
the relation left by Priscus of his embassy 
. to Attila, whilst the latter was stationed in 
that part of northern Hungary which is 
AQw the modern province of Tokay. This 
writer tells us« that during his passage he 
was oflTered for, food and beverage millet and 
Jioney instead of rye and wine, by a people 
who lived in villages diflbrent from the 

Huns, by whk^h no other than the Sclavo- 
nians can be meant, and at the same lime it 
proves the fact, that even at that early period 
they occupied the country on the left bank 
of the Danube. The very words he cites 
are Sclavonic, as is also the appellation 
SlraiDGy given to the funeral feast after the 
death of Attila, described by Jornandes. 
Their alliance with the Huns caused the 
Sclavonians to be long afterwards designated 
by the name of the former, as are still, by 
the Germans, those Sclavonians who settled 
in the Swiss Canton of Wallis, near Granges 
(Sclavonic Gradec), in the villages Cri- 
ipenza (Kremenica), Luc (Luka), Visoye, 
Grana, &c. 

' From the above brief statement two lead- 
ing conclusions are to be drawn ; first, that 
the Sclavonians have mixed only with the 
nations of the Indo-European and northern 
families, — the proofs of which are found 
both in their language and history j and se. 
condly, that the Ethnos megiiton of the 
Veneti, mentioned by Ptolemy, the WmU 
dcirum natio popidosOf dwelling jier immema 
spatia of Procopius, and the it^rUli popuU 
of Jornandes, did not suddenly make their 
appearance in Europe, as some believe, 'but 
that they were settled before the historic era 
in that part of i^urope where history finds 
them under various names at the opening of 
the middle ages. The fall of the empires 
of the Huns and Romans, relieved the Scla- 
vonians from the constant pressure which 
they had endured for centuries from the va- 
rious nations, who now revelled amidst the 
ruins of the late masters of the world. It 
was now their turn to become conquerors, 
marching onwards to the south and west, 
to take possession, 9word in hand, of those 
countries, the population of which had been 
thinned by the migration of German, Celtic, 
and other nations. But before we follow 
them in their career, we shall quote some 
remarks of M. Safarik on their character, 
religion, and social condition daring the fore- 
going period. 

** Their genetenM disposition hts been prEiaod 
even by their enemies. Procopius affirms that tbey 
were not cruel and revengeful, but kind and noble 
hearted; and, according to Mauritus, sincerity 
without dissimulation, generosity without ostenta- 
tion, and humanity, were prominent features of 
their character. The same spirit pervaded their re- 
ligion, laws, morals . and customs. There exist 
abundant proofs, that the primitive Sclavonians 
worshipped one Supreme Being, as the Maker of 
Heaven and Earth, though they also acknowledged 
inferior divinities, as mediators between the Su- 
preme and the human race. The sacrifices they 
offered to their gods consisted of cattle, slieep, and 
other animals, and of the fruits of the earth. They 
did not ofibr human saorifiees, and though this 
»vage coatom was introdoeed among soma of the 




SoIaToniui nam iHrtning hy the Baliio lusd in 

Rawia, it never became general nor permanent. 
They also believed in the imraortalitj of the soul, 
and in tife rewards and pontsfamentt of another 
world. The aUkinof the itate weie administered 
by the people IhemaelvcB. Fathers raled in ttieir 
families, and at the general meetings or diets they 
elected seniors, palatins, dukes, &,c., whose province 
it was to administer the national affairs both in 
feaee and war. The lalws and customs of the 9ctau 
voniaos were preserved eitlter by tradition, or ware 
engraved by their priests on tahlets of wood, in a 
kind of Runic characters. All classes enjoyed 
eqnal rights, and it appears that, although the 
highest dignity in the state was hereditary, espe. 
cjally amongst those Sclavoniana who dwelt in the 
vicinity of the Germans* this oircnmstance In no 
way derogated from the sovereignty of the people. 
That servitude was unknown amongst them does 
not admit of a doubt ; all from the highest to the 
lowest sttl^ect having the same liberties. Even at 
a later period, when Uie class of nobility had arisen, 
the individuals not included within it remained per- 
fectly free. Servitude with them was a weed of 
foreign growth, introduced amongst the western 
Sclavonians by the Germans, and amongst the 
soQthem by the Greeks and Celtea. 

The Russians were Indebted for it to the Skan- 
dinavians and the Tatars. It was one of ^their 
ancient laws, that any Sclavonian in foreign 'cap- 
tivity or slavery recovered his former freedom on 
reentering his native land. With regard to thoir 
treatment of foreign prisoners of war, Maoritus 
mentions one very humane law ; namely, that a 
captive did not with them, as in other countries, 
become a slave for life, but only for a limited pe- 
riod, alter which he was considered free, and might 
either return to his eountry, on paying a ransom, 
or settle amongst his former masters as a freeman 
and friend. To Uke care of the old, the infirm 
and the poor, was held to be the paramount duty 
of every Sclavonian, and no vagabonds nor beggars 
were to be seen in the country. Their kindness to 
strangers, proceeding from generosity of disposition, 
and considered by them an a part of their religion, 
is commended even by their enemies, as, for in- 
stance, by Mauritus, Helmold and others. Al. 
though polygamy was not forbidden, as being in 
accordance with the prevailing customs of the age, 
it is nevertheless attested by historians, that no in. 
stance of it could be found amongst the people, and 
but few among the higher class. Their wives were 
neither shut up nor guarded, but mingled freely in 
the society both of natives and foreigners ; and this 
respect for the rights of the weaker sex bean testi- 
mony to the virtue and refinement of their man- 
ners, whilst a different conduct is a manifest proof 
of the harbarity, ignorance and corruption of a 
people. Besides their favourite occupation of cul- 
tivating the soil and tending their flocks, they were 
addicted to the arts and to commerce, and from 
remote antiquity much of the trade between Asia 
and the west of Europe was either carried on by 
them, or throogh their country. All the principal 
cities in Poland and Roasia were flovrishing long 
before the introduction of Christianity, and nume- 
rous proofs exist that between the second and 
seventh centuries the Sclavonians were 'considered 
by the Greeks and Skandlnavians as a nation pos- 
sessing arts and letters. 

'* A people devoted to agriculture, arts and com- 
merce, and not subject to a despotic rule, but ac- 
customed to weigh for itself the advantages of an 
undertaking previous to commencing it, however 
averse it may be to war, ordinarily displays, when 
attncktdi saperiflf oooiage to the dennoe of its 

territoiy and liberties. The history of the (Sclavo- 
nians fully confirms this remark. According to 
the statement of Ceesar Mauritus, they were din- 
tjnguished in war, not only by their personal 
strength and valour, hot by their consummate pm- 
denoe, eitcellent discipline, and deep strategic 
schemes. The order in which they marched to 
battle may be learnt from Constantine Porphyro- 
genitus. They have been accused of the love #f 
pillage, and of cruelty tolfaeir enemiss, but this re. 
proach is unjusL 

*' Whoever will take the trouble to study their 
history will be convinced that their enemies them- 
selves caused the evil complained of, by first setting 
the example of cruelty and nniost aggression. 
Though the Sclavonians conquered provinces, they 
never subjugated a people, and it ill becomes their 
neighbours who endeavour.ed to enslave them, to 
destroy their national institutions, their laws and 
customs, and to deprive them of their property, to 
accuse them of pillage and cruelty. Besides, the 
wars carried on by the Sclavonians were always 
those of defence or retaliation, in the latter of 
which especially it would not be easy to keep the 
spirit of revenge within due limits. With mora 
justice might their enemies point out two remark- 
able blots in the character of the ancient Sclavo- 
nians, which disgraced the wreath of their national 
virtues, and drew heavy misfortunes, and, in certain 
cases, inevitable ruin upon some of their fenera- 
tions. The first of these noticed by Caesar Mauri- 
tus, and arising from their light-mindedness, was 
the little love they bore to one another, so that they 
lived continually in the midst of dissensions and 
wars : the second, which probably originated in a . 
lively imagination, or rather in the incapability of 
remaining inactive, which seems to have been con- 
stitutional in them, was their love of foreignism, 
which was so strong in the heart of oYeiy Sclavo- 
nian, that even a foreign 'language, and foreign 
mode of living, was preferred by them to national 
customs, to the maternal idiom. It is owing to 
these two peculiarities that the Sclavonians, though 
a mighty, numerous, and widely spread race, were 
obliged to succumb, even in remote ages, to nations 
far weaker than themselves. Time has tried their 
merits and their failings, and they have reaped the 
fruits of both." 

With our eyes fixed upon these few re. 
marks, extracted at random from ancient 
writers known for their hostility to the Scla- 
vonians, we can boldly answer in the nega- 
tive the conclusive question ; Are the anci. 
ent Sclavonians, from what we have related, 
to be considered savages and barbarians, 
as some writers are pleased to term them 1 
We might apply to these the words of that 
philosophic observer of nature, and profound 
judge of human affairs, Wm. Humboldt, 
spoken in reference to the Celtes and Iberi- 
ans. ** Let us be careful,*' says he, '* not to 
compare these nations, called by the ancients 
barbarians, with the savages of America, as 
if there were any anslogy between them; 
for the degree of civilisation respectively at- 
tained by ibero was entirely difi^rent. Nei- 
ther hss the important question yet been re* 
solved, whether that savage state, which 
even in America is found in various grada- 
tionS| is to be looked upon as the dawning 


Selawmian JintiquitM. 


of a society about to rise, or whether it is 
dot rather the fading remains of one sinking 
amidst storms, overmrown and shattered by 
overwhelming catastrophes. To me the 
latter supposition seems to be nearer the 
truth than the former." — {W. von Hum- 
boldty Uni^rsuch. Hb. d. Urbewohner His^ 
paniens. Berlin, 1831.) 

Period II. from 476—988 A. D. 

It can hardly be doubted that the Sclavo. 
nians, from the vast extent of territory occu- 
pied by them at the time of the fall of the 
Roman empire, and from the circumstances 
attending their new settlements, must at that 
period have exceeded in number every other 
European people. Their population not 
only sufficed to enable them to take posses- 
sion of new provinces, but also to establish 
themselves in these colonies sufficiently nu- 
merous to repel foreign invaders, and at the 
same time to provide, by peaceful means, for 
their own maintenance. 

Both these necessities were satisfied, and 
the Sclavoniansy unlike other migratory na- 
tions of those days, have transmitted to their 
later posterity the territories which they oc- 
cupied at the commencement of the middle 
^ ages. For this preservation of their acqui. 
sitions they were indebted to their peaceful 
habits, and to their love of agriculture, arts 
and commerce. Their occupation of half 
Europe remains unparalleled in history. 
It would excite no wonder had it been accom* 
plished by the usual means of conquest, and 
by motives of ambition, by a people greedy 
of plunder, and led on by the absolute will of 
a single chief Sucti was precisely the case 
with contemporaneous nations; whilst the 
Sclavonians, divided into numerous inde- 
pendent communities, unconnected with each 
other, and under a popular form of govern- 
ment, migrated in small parties and at va- 
rious periods to other countries. Their ob. 
ject was not to enslave men, but to acquire 
territory which they might convert by labour 
into a soil supplying abundantly the wants 
both of man and beast; and hence, when 
they waged war, it was only in self-defence. 
•* Providence itself,** to use the words of M. 
Safarik, ''seems to have befriended their 
peaceful intentions, and to have rewarded 
them with enduring advantages : for whilst 
those world-destroying nations have fallen 
into dust, together with their plunder, or are 
fast verging towards the bottomless abyss, 
the Sclavonians have preserved entire their 
possessions through the storm of ages, and 
have lived to see the dawn of the day which 
shall open to them a new existence, and a 
measure of power and splendour never before 
obtained by them." 

The ancient Veneti appear in history at 

the beginnmg of the middle ages, under the 
name of Antes and Sclavi, the first of which 
appellations Procopius applies to the Sclavo- 
nians of the East, and the last to those of the 
West. The name of Antes, which seems to 
have had a not less foreign ori^ than that 
of Veneti, means, in Skandmavian and 
Oothic, gigas, homo, and from the sixth cen- 
tury those nations were designated by it, 
which in the tenth exchangeait for the ap. 
pellation of Russians. At that period the 
boundaries of Russia were the lakes of Ilmen 
and Ladoga, the Upper Volga, and the Oka, 
the Upper Don, the Lower Dnieper, and the 
Black Sea, down to the mouth of the 
Danube ; the north-eastern chain of the Car- 
pathian mountains, the Bug, and the present 
fovemment of Wilno, as far as the Upper 
)wina. Her population consisted of many 
independent nations, which formed a kind <^ 
confederation, till Rurik established a central 
government in 802. Rurik, who with hia 
two brothers belonged to the Skandinavian 
nation of Varing, was invited to assume the 
reigns of government by the Republic of 
Veliki-Novogrod ; the citizens of which, be* 
ing partly of Sclavonian and partly of 
Tshoud extraction, agreed, as one means of 
appeasing their mutual animosities, to select 
their rulers from a third nation. The Var- 
ing, as their very name indicates, were a 
bold confederated people, and theur country 
was called by the Tshouds, Ruotzi or Ruos- 
simaa (Uplandia, Roslagen,) for which ap- 
pellation the Antes now exchanged their own, 
giving to themselves thenceforth the name of 
Rusini, and to the country that of Rus. Ru- 
rik*s successors extended by conquest their 
authority over all the other tribes of Antes, 
and having established their capital at Kiow 
(Kioff), reached the zenith of their power 
under Vladimir the Great. This monarch 
introduced Christianity in Russia (988) ac- 
cording to the Greek ritual. His empire 
was subsequently overthrown by the Poles 
and Lithuanians, and remained united with 
Poland till the close of the last century, with 
the exception of the provinces situated be- 
yond the Dnieper, which were conquered by 
the Tatars, and on recovering their inde- 
pendence in the sixteenth century bore for a 
certain period the name of the Grand Duchy 
of Muscovy. The Muscovites proper, or to 
use a better word, the Great Russians, which 
they are called by some in order to distin- 
guish them from the inhabitants of ancient 
Russia, possess a less degree of Sclavonian 
nationality than any of the other kindred na- 
tions, being what historians term a bastard 
people, that is, composed of several, as of 
Sclavonians, Tshouds, and Tatars. Their 
idiom difibrs so much from the Russian pro- 


S^imwmian ^nhquUui* 

per» that thoj cannot ondentaad the latter 
without previous instructioa in it, which is 
not the case respecting it with the Poles, the 
Bohemians, and others. Conscious of this 
absence of the Sclavonian element, their 
learned men of the sixteenth century traced 
the origin of their nation to the Ros people 
mentioned by the prophet Ezechiel, instead 
of to the Sdavoniao race, and the^ inhabitants 
of Great Bussia have since called themselves 
Rossianie, and their country Rossia. 

Not IcM remarkable was the change they 
introduced into the grammatical structure of 
their language, and the separation from the 
ancient Russians was completed when the 
latter, under the Polish government, acknow- 
ledged the supremacy of Rome in spiritual 
afiairs, and the Muscovite Church declared 
itself independent of the Patriach of Con- 
stantinople. It is perhaps owing to their 
newly-discovered geneak>gy that the people 
of Great Russia consider themselves as the 
only Christian nation in the world, and look 
upon all others as psgans. 

Tile name of Sclavi has proved more en- 
during than that of Antes, and from its great 
celebrity has altogether supplanted the name 
of Sirbi, and become the general domestic 
appellation of all Sclavonians. After a long 
controversy respecting the meaning and ori- 
gin of the word, it was at length decided that 
it must be derived either from Slawa (fame), 
or from Sl<noo (word), by the first of which 
would be designated a nation celebrated for 
its achievements ; and by the second a people 
the tribes of which all speak the same idiom, 
intelligible only amongst themselves. M. 
Safarik rejects both these; both because 
there is no example of a national appellation 
derived from such a source, and secondly, 
because they are entirely at variance with 
the Sclavonic idiom; the termination anin, 
Latin anus^ (Sylvanus), in the word SlotD- 
anin, being only added to names signifying 
places and provmces. He thinks that it was 
the original name of the tract of country on 
the Upper Niemen where Ptolemy places 
his Stlo veni or Suoveni. The same country 
is called, in Lithuanian, Sallawa, Slawa, 
(isle, land): in Tshoud^ Sallo (a woody 
country), which it actually is ; in ancient 
Prussian, Salawa ; in Latin, Scalavia, and 
the inhabitants ScalavitsQ ; in modern Grer- 
man, Schalauen. The corruption of the 
most ancient appellation, Slowanin, into 
Sclavus, Sclavinus, Sclavonian, may be 
traced to the fact, that no foreign idiom can 
by any letter or combination of letters 
express the Sclavonic hard /, and Ptolemy 
made the nearest approach to it by spelling 
it Stloveni, Suoveni. The most correct word 
for it in our language would be Slovanin. 

The ScUm of Prooouiiu, as well as bis 
Antes, comprised several nations, indepen- 
dent of each other. Of these, the Polane-^ 
the Bulaaes, Pulani, of Ptolemy — the 
modern Poles, (so called from their fertile 
plains,) early acquired a certain degree of 
celebrity, and established the centre of their 
power first at Kruswitza (846), then at 
Gntsen ^niezno),^and subsequently at Cra- 
cow. Christianity' was introduced amongst 
them by Mieczislaus L, in 965 ; but his son 
Boleslaus the Great deserves noore properly 
to be considered the true founder of the Po^ 
ish monarchy, the limits of which he extend- 
ed from the Dnieper to the Elbe, and from 
the Baltic to the Danube and the Teiss. 
He performed £ot himself the ceremony of 
his coronation in 1025, regardless whether 
his assumption of the royal title should be 
acknowledged either by the Pope or his an- 
tagonist the German £mperor. It is a fact 
deserving attention, that whilst at one period 
or another all the other Sclavonian nations 
were subjugated either by the Turks, Ta- 
tars, Magyars, Greeks or Germans, Poland 
still preserved her independence, standing 
ever the devoted sentinel to guard Europe 
against the infidels. She should therefore of 
right be viewed as the eldest and most wor- 
thy of the Sclavonian family, and while the 
civilized world commiserates her now un- 
happy fate, the Sclavonian nations have 
doubly to regret it, since it was through her 
that they were adoj)ted members of the great 
Eunopean community. The Poles call them* 
selves at the present day, Polak, in the plural 
Polacy (Polatzv), and their country Poiska, 

From Poland and Russia issued those nu- 
merous bands of Sclavonians who settled in 
the south and west of Europe, and to whose 
history we are now going briefly to advert. 

The migration of the Sclavonians from 
Russia began so early as the time of the Huns, 
and we find them accordingly settled in the 
Roman Dacia, or in Walachia, Moldavia and 
Transylvania, as also in Zagoria, a highland 
district at the foot of the Haemus or Balkan 
chain. These in 678 lost not only their inde- 
pendence but their very name, which was 
changed into that of Bulgares, belonging to 
a people related to the Huns, who subjugat- 
ed thern. The Bulgares, however, like the 
Skandinavians in Russia, in their turn lost 
their nationality, and in the course of two 
centuries became entirely Sclavonised. 
They were converted to Christianity in 860. 
Constantin Cyrillus and Methodius, two 
celebrated Sclavonian apostles, introduced 
letters amongst them, and gave them a Scla- 
vonic version of the Scriptures and a national 
liturgy. Thus Sclavonian literature first 
flourished among the Bulgarian Sclavonians. 


Beskfefl rite trflMMdH oftfae BiMe, one of 
their prinoeB made a veiBioQ of St. Cbryeos- 
tom'e worlra, net to iHeDtioa many origiifa! 
ooH ip oe iti o B B by odier writers. The empire 
of the Balgariaa SclaTonianB, the capital of 
which was Pereelaw, the ancient Marciamn 
polia, was overthrown in 971 bj the united 
fercee of the Rnssiens and the Greeks, since 
which time they remained vassals of the* let* 
tef» and sabseqnently of the Turks. A por- 
tion of them, the Walachians and Moldavians, 
now, however, enioy perfect independence, 
although they still acknowledge the nominal 
sovereignty ofthc Porte. Thenamesof Wala- 
chia and Moldavia arose in the thirteenth and 
fourteenth centuries, when the descendants of 
the ancient Geltes qnitted the mountains of 
Transylvania, where they had taken refuge 
during the gpreat migration in the time of the 
Huns, and made themselves masters of the 
government. Walachia is derived from the 
Sclavonian Walach or Walch, by which 
the Gkillic or Celtic nations were designated, 
and which corresponds to the English word 
Wales, Welsh, and the German Walsche — g 
being usually changed into w, Walach in 
Sclavonic means a shepherd, thus indicating 
the mode of life of the Celtic mountaineers. 
The Polish name of Maltani or Muntani (the 
Latin MoiUani) for Moldavia, which latter 
is derived from the river Moldawa, also signi- 
fies Highlanders. In boih these provin- 
ces Sclavonic is the prevailing language, but 
it is intermixed with Latin, Celtic and Thra- 

During the fifth, sixth and seventh centu- 
ries, Thracia, Macedonia, Thessalia, Alba- 
nia, Greece (Hellas,) the Peloponnesus and 
the adjacent islands, were occupied by emi- 
grants from Poland and Russia to such an 
extent that the Greek historians of those days 
bitterly complained that all Greece had be- 
come Sclavonian. " Universa regio,^* says 
Constantine Porphyrogenitos, "Slavica ac 
Barbara effecta." When Nicetus, a native 
of Peloponnesus, boasted of his classic birth, 
the grammarian Euphemius called him " old 
Sclavonian face." The epitomist of Strabo 
equally lamented that all Epirus, Greece, 
(Hellas), Peloponnesus, ana Mac^onia, 
were peopled with Skytho-Sclavonians. 
Constantinople itself became partly Sclavo- 
nianized, as may be inferred from the Scla- 
vonian names of the highest officers of 
state; and it is a &ct beyond all controversy 
that the Emperor Justinian was of the same 
extraction. Theophitus, his tutor (who 
died 534), says expressly that he was bom 
of a Sclavonian &mily settled in Illyrian 
Dardania about the end of the fifth century. 
The father of the Emperor, called Sabbatias 
by Procopius and Theophanes, according to 

TheophOns bore the family name of Iztok 
(Sol oriens), of which Sabbatios or Sabbazioa 
is a Thraco-Phrygian version; and his 
mother and sister had the Sclavonian name 
Wiglenitea (Bigleniza), ^. The name of 
Uprawda^ which Theophilas mentions that 
the Emperor bore amongst his countrymen, 
corresponds to his LAtinized name, its literal 
meaning being jnSj justkia. Contemporary 
historians state that the Emperor Biastlius 
also was a Sclavonian ; many cities bearing 
Sclavonian appellations still exist in Greece, 
as, for instance, Platxa, Stratza, Lutzena, 
Warsowa (Warsaw), Polonitza, Ac. There 
are seven villages between Nauplia and Mo* 
nembasia, inhabited by fifteen hundred Scla- 
vonian families. The nationality of these 
Sciavonians was subsequently lost in that of 
the Greeks : yet so much of the Sclavonian 
element had been infused into the latter that 
the modern Greeks are found to difier widely 
from their remote ancestors. But the Scia- 
vonians of Macedonia, Bosnia, Montenegro, 
Herzegovina, and Albania, have preserved 
their nationality both under the Greeks and 
the Turks, and may yet see the day of their 
independence, like their neighbours the 
Servians, who have but lately shaken off the 
yoke of Turkey. Amongst other primitive 
national institutions, the Sciavonians of Tur- 
key still enjoy their municipal corporations, 
the origin of which, Mr. Urquhart, in his 
enthusiasm for Mahommedan nationality, has 
traced to some Arabian desert Several 
Sclavonian colonists settled about 664 in 
Asia Minor near Seleucia ad Behim, the 
present Seleukobel, in the district of Opicinm 
(Obsikonthema), and near Trapezunt at the 
mouth of the Kizil-Irmak (Halys), where 
their descendants are said still to be dwell* 

The present inhabitants of Servia (SirbiaV 
who still retain the primitive domestic appel- 
lation of their race, are descended from a 
colony which migrated from the country be- 
yond the Carpathian Mountains, namely, 
eastern Galicia, and hence their language ia 
an intermediate idiom partaking of the Rus- 
sian and Polish. The epoch of their migra- 
tion is supposed to have been betwe^i 684 
and 638, and they have preserved their 
nationality in its full integrity down to the 
present day. 

The Sciavonians of Dalmatia and Croatia, 
known usually under the name of Creates, 
came from the hilly country about Cracow, 
once called Charvatia or Croatia, in the early 
part of the sixth century. They preserved 
their independence for several centuries, un- 
til 1102, when they spontaneously united 
themselves with Hungary, and the Hun- 
garian roonarchs have since added to their 


tehwmian jSnrifmiHmm 


title, that of King of Croatia and Dalmatia. 
Their conversion to Christianity took place 
towards the end of the eighth century. 

The tract of country once called Karan- 
tonia, and which at the present day com- 
prises the Austrian provinces of Iliyria, 
Karnia, Styria, and Upper and Lower Aus- 
tria, was subspqu ntly to the year 334 by 
decrees occupied by the western or Polish 
Sclavonians. Heavy calamities befel them 
during the eighth century, at which time the 
Germans, or rather the Franks under the 
dynasty of Charlemagne, extirpated by the 
sword, or sold as slaves to the inhabitants of 
distant countries, one portion of them, and 
subjugated the rest. We are told by Por- 
phyrogeoitus that the Franks tore infants 
from their mothers' breasts and threw them 
to the dogs: and that they bought and sold 
the adults by means of the Jews like so many 
beasts. To that epoch is to be traced this 
perversion of the honourable appellation of 
B.'lavonian into that of slave (Sclavus, Skla- 
bos, Sklawe, Slave, Slaef, Esciave, £sclavo, 

Bohemia, inhabited from remote antiquity 
by Sclavonians, who were driven out by a 
Celtic race, the Boi, whence the name of 
Bohemia, which latter were in their turn 
conquer* -d by the German Marcomanni was 
peopled between 451 and 495 A. D. by emi- 
grants from the Polish country Croatia al- 
ready mentioned. They call themselves 
Czechowe (Tshehove), and their country 
Cz«*«hy, from their chief, Cztch, which 
name, like that of Lech, Leszek, among the 
Poles, signified a high class of state officers, 
rather than any particular family or indi- 
vidual. Christian ty was planted in Bohe- 
mia in 875« and the name of the fiist Chris- 
tian King was Borywoy. Bohemia main- 
tained her indepenaence within the limits 
traced by nature itself until the sixteenth 
century, when she became an appanage of 
the House of Hapsburg, in which the Bohe- 
mian dynasty was perpetuaCed in the female 
line. Next to Poland, Bohemia is the most 
advanced in civilisation of all the Scbvonian 
countries ; and several Bohemians, amongst 
whom Kolowrat may be cited, possess great 
influence in the government, which they 
have turned to the benefit of their nationality. 
The literature of Bohemia is rich in every 
branch; Kollar and Haly are eminent 

S>et8, whilst Palacky is the best historian of 
ohemia, and M. Safarik of all the ancient 
Scl'ivonians. The difference between the 
Bohemian and Polish languages is -very 
trifling, and lies principally in the ortho- 

The Sclavonians of Moravia* so cnlled 
from the river Moravst as alaoihose of Uun* 

eary, who are now emphatically caUed tba 
Sclavonians, came from beyond the Kar« 
paili8, and fstablished themselves in these 
countries at the same epoch a^ the Bohemi- 
ans, but in the year 568, having been expelled 
from Ilungnry by the A va res, they dispersed 
ihemoelves in lilyria^ Eariiia« and oiyria« 
When however the Avares were conquer* 
ed in 796 by Charlemagne, Hungary was 
again fillrd with Sclavonian emigrants from 
Moravia and the southern Karpaths. They 
subsequently resisted many attempts of the 
Pranks to enslave them, and under their king 
Swatopluk, formed an extensive empire, call* 
ed Great Moravia, which stretched from the 
river Opava to the mouth of the Drava, and 
from Vienna in the East to the river Tarisse, 
and numbered Bohemia, a part of Silesia, 
Misnia and Lusatia (now in Saxony), as its 
vassal provioces! They were converted to 
Christianity in the early part of the eighth 
century, but their true apostles were Con« 
stantin and Methodius, who both died in 
Moravia, the latter as bishop, the former in 
a convent. To these men they were indebt« 
ed for a translation of the Scriptures, for the 
Sclavonic liturgy, and for the introductbn of 
writing amongst them, after which the oa« 
tiunal literature early made a rapid progress. 
The invasion of Hungary by the Magyars, 
a branch nation of the Huns, in 907, broke 
up thd Moravian empire. '*This was a 
blow," says M. Safarik, "which struck to 
the heart of the Sclavonian family.* Such 
among them as escaped death or slavery, 
fled beyond the Karpaths, to Bulgary, Croa- 
tia, dec. ; and in the soil fertilized by the toil 
and blood of the Sclavonians, and enlighten* 
ed by the spirit of the immortal Constantin 
and Methodius, the sword of the Magyars dog 
the foundation of a firm throne." After nine 
centuries under a foreign dominion, the Sola* 
vonians of Hungary, together with the rest 
of their brethren spread over Austria, have 
lately displayed extraordinary intellectual ac- 
tivity, and have so successfully laboured in 
promoting their nationality and literature at 
to put in jeopardy those of their Hungarian 
Masters. This accounts for the great zeal 
manifested of late by the Hungarian Diet for 
encouraging the study of the national lan- 
guage, which latter however will not be able 
much longer to keep down the Sclavonian, 
from which two-thirds of the words in the 
Hungarian are derived. This apprehension 
on the part of the Hungarians will not ap* 
pear an ill grounded one, when it is copsid- 
ered that the German colonists are annually 
losing their nationality in that of the Sclavo* 
nians. To the national jealousy of the Hun. 
gariaos may be imputed their imwillingiitsa 
to admit their Sclavonian and Gtonnaa pop* 




ffCWOOft^lM *ailH^lttit9$$^ 


olation fo the same pnvilei^s with them- 
selveH, but on this point also they are obligi^d 
every year to make fresh concessions. 
Mighty events are casting their Bhadows be- 
fore them, which threaten to stretch from 
Vi(nna to St. Petersburg. 

1'he last of the principal Sclavonian na. 
tions which we shall notice here are the Po- 
labian, which appellation is derived from 
Laba, the Sclavonic name of the Elbe. 
This nation was a branch of the Polish Scla- 
Tonians, which began to emigrate from the 
Vistula and the Niemen in the third century, 
and occupied the provinces which had been 
thinned of their population by the emigration 
of the German nations towards and beyond 
die Rhine. The territory of which they 
took possession in the north of Germany ex- 
tended from the mouth of the Oder along the 
shores of the East Sea f Ost See) to the Elbe, 
including several islands. Eastward it was 
separated from Poland by the Oder and the 
river Bobr. Towards the south and south 
west it stretched as far as the Dohemian 
mountains, and on the west from the sources 
of the Sala to its mouth and along the Elbe 
to the mouth of theSteknitz; thence to Lu- 
beck and along the upp^r Eider to the city 
of Kiel in the Holsttin of the present day : 
some colonies of Sclavonians also settled m 
the midst of the Germans towards the Rhine 
and in Bavaria, and there preserved their 
nationality up to the (sixteenth century. 

These Polabian Sclavonians were divided 
according to the national custom into several 
independent tribes, to which circumstance 
their final extermination by the Germans id 
to be ascribed. Yet notwithstanding this 
disadvantage, they contrived to resist for up- 
wards of %)UT centuries the whole united 
power of the emperors of Germany, and the 
animosity and fury with which the war 
was carried on by both parties is almost un« 
exampled in the annals of Europe. Chris- 
tianity was never fully embraced by this por- 
tion of the Sclavoniansy as the Germans 
sought to introduce it only by destroyinir 
their nationality ; the consequence of which 
was that the majority of them perished sword 
in hand in defence of paganism. Some, 
however, who were converted by the Poles, 
must be excepted, and a few of their descend- 
ants still inherit the provinces of Lusatia and 
Misnia in Saxony. 

Of all the Polabian SclsTonians the We- 
leti were the most celebrated both for their 
numbers and for the persevering courage 
with which they defended their nationality 
against the Germans. Their primitive seat 
seems to have been in the vicinity of Wilno, 
though Ptolemy assigns them a distrkst (Yel- 
tae) in Prossian Pomerania, between the 

Vistnla and the Niemen. They were earij 
conepicuous for their warlike habits, which 
were such as to draw upon them fnom the 
other Sclavonians the appellation of wolves* 
which gave rise to the fable related by He- 
rodotus, which that historian" treats, as ab- 
surd as a matter of fact, of a northern tribe 
annually tronsformed into tliese predatory 
beasts. Similar epithets were keqtieat 
amongst the Sclavonians, who even now 
call the Turks vipers ; and the Kurds, from 
their predatory habits, still bear that of 
wolves. The appellation may originally 
have been an honourable one, as h most be 
borne in mind that, in the primitive simple 
state of society, physical force was consid- 
ered in the light of a prime virtne. From 
the Sclavonian word for wolf, Wilk^ sing^— 
Wilzit plural ; the Greek Ivkos^ the I^tin 
lupus ; the Lithuanian lut Itafj ferocious, 
are derived the words Wiki, Wilxen^ Luiid, 
and WeleH, WoloH^ Weleiabiy &c. from 
Wtlot^ Woloif stgnilying giant ; all which 
are indicative of the reckless courage for 
which the Weleti were particularly distin- 
guished. When their fame subsequently 
spread over Europe during the middle ages, 
the Germans and Skandinavians invented 
marvellous tales respecting them, and finally 
declared them to be a nation of sorcerers. 
A sword, that worked wonders, was called 
from their name Walsung, Welsung, Welsi. 
Their sway extended along the shores of 
the East Sea (Ost See), which was called 
after them Wildamor (the Sea of Weleti), 
and their cnpital city was the famed Vinetha, 
— in Sclavonian, Woiin, — situated at the 
month ofthe Oder. 

According to Venantius Fortunatus, and 
to Beda, the Weleti penetrated between 660 
and 600 into Batavia, and settled near the 
city of Utrecht, which from them was called 
Wiltaburg, ai:d the surrounding country 
Wiitonia. Being separated from the other 
Sclavonians by the German nations, the 
Weleti were unable long to preserve their 
indeprndcnce, and in course of time either 
lost their nationality altogether, or ultimately 
rt-joined their countrymen. Unquestionable 
proofs however Of their having settled in (he 
Netherlands exist in fhe names of cities evi- 
dently derived from them, as Wiitsween in 
Holland, Wiltcnburgh near Utrecht, &c. 
and in some purely Sclavonian names, as 
Kamen, Sueia, Widenitz, Hudnin, Zwola, 
Wispe or Wespe, Sloia, ^c. as also in nu- 
merous Sclavonic word^ to be found in the 
ancient Dutch. It is the opinion of Ger. 
man historians, and of M. Safnrik himself, 
that a body of Weleti or Wild settled in our 

• Hsrod. (Bohwsigli. it. IM. 


StUoHfrntm jfyi ii gft iiU *, 


county of Wiluhire» where tbey arrived 
after the Aoglti-SaxoQs ; and some Euglish 
authors* in aliudiog to this subject derive 
the iohabitaois of Wiltshire i'roin a coioay 
of BelgSB, who migrated thither from the 
coualry of Wilton ia already alluded to. 
Without pausing to investigate this question 
more fully at present, we will merely quote 
M. Safarik's own words concerning it. 

*' Moro obscure and lesn authentic are the ac- 
counts respecting the settlement of the Weleti in 
England, specially in that provioee which, afler 
the arrival of the Anglo.Saxons, was called Wilt, 
sacten, jt Wilis, and from which rose the pre-eut 
Wiltonshirc. Early mention is also made of the 
town of Wlltun, now Wilion, and of the inhabit, 
ante WiKoni, Wiltonisci ; and it is not improbable 
that daring that great luigratiaii of the north-west, 
em nations* and the coalusioii that arono amongst 
them daring the fourth and fifth centurif s, some 
detachments of chivalrous Weleti might have ar- 
rived there, and being pleased with the aspect of 
the eou'ntry, already considerably advanced in civi. 
InatioD, stttled in it. This would aceoont for the 
numerous Sclavonic words which occur in modern 
English. Being however unable to investigate thik 
■ubiect to its very source, at prewnt, I am com. 
polled to postpone the close ezamtnation of It to a 
Aitare day and opportonity. The objection made 
by some against ttie supposition of the Weleti hav. 
ing settled in Batavia and Britain, on the ground 
that it would have been impossible for the weak 
and anwarlike Selavontans to have penetrated so 
far amonffMt foreign options, as also that tumult are 
Hoond in Wiltshire, which it was not the custom 
amongst the Sola von ians to raise, carrier little 
weight with it. The Sclavonians, as we know, 
penetrated from the Upper Volga and the western 
Dwina to Petoponnesus, Asia Minor, and Italy 
(beyond the river Soci), and in Germany as far as 
the moath of the Elbe, having in all those couniries 
conquered by the sword their permanent or tempo, 
rary sett Icments. They might thence easily advance 
a few milen beyond the Mouth of the Elbe, and the 
raising of tumuli was from the remotest antiquity a 
pTACtice quite as much in uae with the Sclav oniana 
as with other nations.** 

Instead of dilating upon this curious pas- 
sage» we would rather suggest to some of 
the Poles residing amongst us, to supply the 
inability of M« S<tfarik, by investigating the 
antiquities of Wiltshire, and ascertaining at 
the same time the number of Sclavonic 
words contained in the English language, 
as we are of opinion that a work of this na- 
ture would throw fresh li^ht upon English 
history. As Sclavonic does not usually 
form a part of the studies of our literary 
men, the task could only be effectually per*, 
formed by a Pole, and it would prove a 
pteasant Lbour for one of the refugees, who, 
whilst tracing amongst us the vestiges of 
his forefathers, might think himself at home 
for a time in a stranger*s land. 


** Closing oar report,** conttnnes M. Safaiik, 
** of the SclavoQian nations and of the ooontries oo. 
by thsaa, ve «MW0t hnllMl Mlowibsd both 

at the nambers •( the people and eictent of thoir wtC 
tiements. It is in those vast countries between the 
Carpathian mountainH, the Vistula, Lake llnien, 
the Volga, and the Don, that Tacitus, Ptolemy, 
Jornandcri, and Procop:as have described the im. 
moose nation of our ancestors — ^the Veneti ; it ia 
from these countries that in the course of three cen- 
turies a hundred armies of the Sckvonian tribes 
marched to the south and weet, and peopled half 
Germany, a part of England and Bauvia, all Da. 
cia, Pannonia and lUyricum, Byzantium and a part 
of Asia Minor; it is in these countries that the Ba. 
varian historian, after the great migration of the 
Sclavonians, and the terrible wars which their couiu 
trymen who were left behind carried ou with the 
foreign nations who fell upon them from the east 
and west, still describes two hundred Sclavonian 
nations, dwelling in Hhree thousand seven han 
dred and seventy large cities, ezcloaive of the most 
popoloos Sirbi. it is again these countries, whioh 
our Nestor finds, long iMfore the arrival of Varing 
Roussi, filled with a thousand cities, and peopled 
with various Sclavonian nations, prelerriog, accord, 
ing to him and to the testimony of a scries of foreign 
hiitorians, liberty to life : it is thpse countries final- 
ly, which drew from Matheus, Bishop of Ci-acow 
(1150), the exclamation, * Sclavonia is as it wero 
all the world ; the Sclavonian people in their 
coniitless multitudes equal the stars of heaven !'e 
Yet it is of these countries that certain Russian 
authors of the present day'are pleased to assert that 
they were from remote antiquity the cradle of the 
Skandinavians, and that Rurik was not invited 
thither, but considered himself the legitimate heir 
to them ; and further, that until the time of Wla« 
dimir the Great, they were a wild desert, over which 
were scattered here and there some poor families 
of nomadic fishermen and shepherd*, caHed Calo. 
vi«ki (men), that is, robbers, peasants staves, from 
which later ehronielrm have derived Slavonin, 
Slavan^ (Sclavonian, Sclavonians), and transferred 
:t to an imaginary nation which never had eiist* 

We are indebted to M. Safarik for ano* 
ther specimen of the Russian mode of writ, 
ing history. He gives an extract from the 
work of a certain Muravief, who has lately 
published a history of the well-kooirQ Re« 
public of Veliki Novogrod, in which the au* 
thor affirms that it was never anything mora 
than a wretched borooghy containing only 
aboat six thousand inhabitants. It can hardly 
be necessary to observe that Morortefa 
statement is entirely at vsriance with the 
truth ; aa the city of Novogrod,. once a 
member of the Hanseatie league, was at 
one time so powerful as to set at defiaooa 
the Czars of Muscovy, though ultiniately it 
succumbed to their power, when 80,000 of 
its population were killed and 50,000 traoa* 

The true cauae of similar mis^statementa 
lies in the degraded condhion of the Russian 
people at the present day, brought ahout 
chiefly by an oppressive admiaistratioii, and 

• *« Sclavonia, qo* qoMt est alter orbis—gens 
Sdavonica maUltndino iaBomerabili, osa sidsribai 


HtrJkTf iht Proitdar 


the constant wars of aggression in which 
they are employed, whilst even a very sligiu 
knowledge of their former flourishing con- 
dition woulil open the eyes of the people, 
and render them hostile tu their autocratic 
government The insatiahle ambition of 
Rudsia, aided by the zeal of the vanguard 
of her scribblers fur the propagation of sla- 
very, excites, amongst tno Scldvonians, a 
well-grounded apprehension that they may 
be destined to sufier the fate of Poland. 

Our author, who seems to be an enthusi* 
astic Sclavonian patriot, on hearing his na- 
tion so grossly calumniated, is no longer 
able to restrain his indignation, and breaks 
into the following exclamation with the Bo- 
hemian poet Kollar :— • 

*' What ipell shtU roow ye from the silent tomb, 
Great Boleslaos, and thee, brave Swaloplak! 

that ye 
May tee yuar land's misfortune ; and behold 
Tour race degenerate, dishonoored now 7 
A stranger-foe our dearest life-blood drains ; 
And sons, all reckless of their sires* renoiyn, 
Uubloshing make their boaat of slavery .** 

AiT. lY. — Idem xur PMla$ophie der Ges- 
chichieder Mm9chkeU. Von Joh. 6. Her- 
der. Mil einer EtrdeMug von Heinr. 
Luden. (Thoughts on the Philosophy of 
the History of the Human Race. By 
Joh. Q. Herder. With an Introduction 
by Heinr. Laden.) Leipz. 1828. 

Iif a former jiomber of this journal* it was 
shown, that the circumstances of Germany 
afibrd favourable opportunities for exercising 
a sound judgment upon some of the most 
important questions that can be raised re- 
specting the exlensim ef eioilized wtUlementa 
over the earthy Those opportunities have 
not been thrown away ; and without pressing 
the remark beyond its legitimate limits, or 
•"ggeraiing the merits of Germans on this 
head, i^ttentiou may juaily be directed to a 
body of roen^ — the writers of Germany, who 
have made invaluable contributions towartlx 
advancin*; public opinion on a most perplex- 
ing subject ; and the present is a most pro- 
pitious tune for correctly estimatintr what the 
most eminent of them, Herder, has done to 
elenr that subject from difficulty. 

Unquestioiirib y, of all the writers, ancient 
or modern, who have professed to trace the 
hisioiy of mm, and to treat at Ifirge of his 

• Fureigti Quarterly Review for October, 183 J 

Article •*On the influence of Q«raiany on the 
CivihsatioB of Uncivilised Tribsck" 

civilisation in its Taried pha ses ita rise, its 
progress, and its decay, its revivali and nu* 
invrous modifications, Herder is perhaps the 
individual who has done the most complete 
justice to the subject in almost all its parts. 
Religion, as one of its instruments, has in 
him a powerful defender ; justice, a strenu* 
ous advocate; philosophy, liieroture, and 
science, a great profosaor and fiiend ; and 
the arts, an ardent lover. No class of men 
is neglected by bin? ; but more especially has 
this profound genius excited a deep and gen- 
eral interest by his eloquent ond feeling ap- 
peals on behalf of the less fortunate members 
of the human family, whose feebleness and 
deficiencies in their hour of struggle ore 
mistaken by the prejudiced for essential con* 
ditions of their existence, and wlmse adverse 
circumstances, which alone make their pro- 
gress slow, have too long been aggravated by 
injustice. Jt is a peculiar merit, indeed, of 
Herder duly to have appreciated the onward 
tendencies of the wsole race of mankind, 
extending his enlightened curiosity, as well 
as his kindly sympathy, to desthute, barbar- 
ous, and savage tribes, no less than to wealthy 
and refined nations. Upon this capital point 
he stands forth in proud and striking con- 
trast with many illustrious authors, among 
whom may be specially mentioned Bossuet, 
Voltaire, and Do Sismondi, representatives 
of the principal historical schools of the last 
150 years. When expressly developing the 
causes of great social convulsions, and pro* 
leasing to collect lessons from ail the past, 
to elevate and ^uide all the future, Bossuet 
in his Universal History, Voltaire in his 
similar work, De Sismondi, less generally, 
in his Jta/ian Rfpublies^ torn in seeming 
despair from the annals of the savage fathers 
of mankind, as if those annals were incapa- 
ble of illustrating a single point of policy, or 
of advancing a single claim of humanity ; 
and they dogmatically pronounce those pe- 
riods to be unprofitable, when unquestiona- 
bly the discriminating and deep study of 
them would afford great instruction ogai.nst 
many evils which daily afflict the world in 
the unceasing contest between the civilized 
and the uncivilized in every age, as well as 
in every clime. Herder was the first to 
pursue this view of the case to extensive re- 

O her historians, in addition to narrating 
the events which constitute the great interests 
of civilized states, have entered wish the 
mo<t exact precision into the circumstances 
either of certain />or/t ons of the mere bar- 
barous races to whom Cuiopean civilisaiion 
has never been imparted, or* into the earliest 
state oi some of the civilized nations, when 
they were still barbarous. Uttme's aooount 


iif ^hmigimal Ptopt^. 


of the SaxoD8» and Gibbon's otmptera uponi 
the Northern Invaders of the Roman Em- 
pire, not to mention the Manners of the 
Gtirmans by Tacitus, are master- pieces of 
the latter kind ; and Robertson, if his feebler 
genius had not been unequal to the topics he 
selected, and to his perception of what those 
topics were susceptible oC, would have far 
surpassed hi;i contemporaries in regard to 
the former. The names of two other emi- 
nent men, Schiller and Thierry, must be 
mentioned, whose promise of being equal to 
Herder on the same point, and superior to 
him on others, failed without any blame at- 
lacbing itself to them. Schiller died too 
soon to give the world what he wa« capable 
of producing for universal humanity; and 
our own contemporary, Thierry, the author 
of The Causes and Consequences of the 
Normtm Conquest ^ and of other excellent 
workd,* is, by premature loss of vision, 
debarred, perhaps in a more unfortunate 
way, from pursuing his favourite study — 
the struggle of the oppressed of all ranks 
against the oppressors of all times. But 
Herder, in the ripeness of his age, worthily 
accomplished the sublime task fitted to so 
few minds; and our apology for adding 
aome crude remarks to the great monument 
of his powers, The Philosophy of History, 
ia an earnest desire to suggest its especial 
usefulness at the present day, when new 
advances are making to protect, without mis- 
leading, the oppressed savage; and to re- 
strain, without lowering, his civilized master. 
There is one point of view in which an 
addition to his work will be seen to bo more 
especially needed ; and an English observer 
enjoys a political position, and political ox- 
perience in that respect, which are scarcely 
open to a German philosopher even at pre* 
sent, and much less to one living in the 
eighteenth ceniurv. The point of view re. 
furred to is, the daily working of the mea- 
sures of government upon the rights, the 
happiness, nnd the prospects of every class, 
and of everv individual within the influence 
not only of British authority, but ail other 
authority upon earth. Thi:< is tho wide and 

undisiputud range of our right of discussion ; 
and whilst readily admiuing, that so vast a 

^^^^^^"^^^■^■^■" ■ ^— — »^^-— —^.^.—i...^ 

* The new vrorkof M. Aajruntus Thierry,** R6cit» 
des Temps Mcroviiigicnn, pi6cM4* de Conwdera^ 
tioos mir I'llMiotre ile Franco.*' (Parts, 1840,) is a 
remaikabtc proof of ttie p<iwcn of this emincni 
wriiur; and ilic Preface conlaiiis a touching allii. 
sion, in a single phrase, to his imroriunatc prtva. 
tioos. After citing a psasago from the Martyrs of 
M. Chaieaiibriand, which h^d made a deep innpres- 
aion upon him in hisyouih, he adds — **Aiijour- 
d'noi, 9iJ€ me fats lire la pfge qui nCa taat frappi, 
je rtiromoe mes imoliong vU y a irtnU an$,'* — 

field must be entered upon wkb becoming 
caulion, and that the delicate interests it 
may sometimes border upon must be ap* 
preached with decorum and prudence, wa 
acknowledge no other bounds to our freedom 
Uit what are consistent with duty to our uni- 
versal neighbour, and with a regard to the 
universal good of mankind. 

That such is not at present the general 
rule of discussion is a proposition that need 
not be established by proof; but a remark* 
able illustration of this British freedom hav* 
ing been denied to Herder, and to his most 
enlightened countrymen, will be read with 
interest. In the later years of his life Her- 
der supported with great zeal a periodical 
work proposed by Schiller, which had also 
the earnest approval of Kant, Pichte, Goe* 
the, Jacobi, Wilhelm von Humboldt, and 
other distinguished writers* Nevertheiess» 
with so briiliact an assemblage to guarantee 
the work from any considerable evil, und to 
give it the promise of great probable good, 
the jealousy of the German governmeniSf to 
Schiller* s greai inconvtnience^ excluded the 
religion and poldics of the stale from its 

*' The more elevated inqairies to be pnrraed ia 
that work,** says the writer to whom we are indebL 
ed for the anecdote, ** were to prepare better prin* 
ciples and purer moirnla for the advancement of 
mankind, and for the increase and spread of human 
happiness. If the present was iniordicted as a 
subject of controversy, the page of hiniorj waa 
open to the student of the past, and the future 
might be contemplated without excitement, whitat 
all reform was to be rested upon the calm introduo* 
tion of improved ideas. Science waa to contribute 
its stores to the work, and the Muses were to adora 
it with their best gifts. In its prq>aralion, learning 
and the line arts were bo longer lo be aeparated as 
ihey were wont to be. The deepest truths were to 
be made familiar in social life ; ombeliisliments in 
style were to relievo the gravity nf science ;•— and 
examples of good taste were to enliven dry philoso- 
phy. The din of war and political strife, which so 
much occupied mankind elaewbere, were hero to 
have a favoured rival; and popular errorji, whioh 
cuuld not safely bo attacked openly, would be un- 
dermined by prudent changea being gradually 
brought about in men's opinions.'** 

But It was precisely because tho daily af. 
fairs of state were excluded from their 
deliberations, that even stich men as Herder 
and Schiller failed to deviae the fitting reme« 
dies for the past evils which they so well 
described, and the proper means of securing 
ihe hotter condition of humanity which ihey 
so well aUo nmicipated. Beautiful as is the 
fo»vgoing theory, which Schiller drew and 
HerJur approved, and excellent as the 
things are which it produced, nothing can 

• Sehiilei*s Leben von Dr. Karl Boffiaeistar, 
vol iiLppb7,9. 


be plciner than that such a acheme for ha- 
man improvement must lamentably fail in 
the great struggles to which men are destin- 
ed. With it» as the sole panoply, liberty, 
would ^ ever refused to the slaTe ; due 
protection to the emancipated negro be im- 
possible; and the safety of millions of abo> 
riginal inhabitants of remote lands be hope- 
less. Great change i in policy alone can 
help all of them in their fearful struggles ; 
aiid such changes come only through poli- 
tical diecttSMon* and political action. These 
being refused to the great German minds, 
they speculate at an infinite disadvantage ; 
and in enjoying free political discussion and 
free political action* we are compensated for 
our inferiority to some of our continental 
neighbours in our theories, and even in 
•ome great points of constiiminnal organi- 
lation. With this deduction made for the 
adverse national position of Herder, his au- 
tiiority cannot be estimated too high ; and 
he will be consulted at the present hioment 
with the greatest public advantage. 

Never were the lessons of philosophy, 
the precepts of genuine religion, and the 
force of welUfounded^ public opinion, moire 
urgently needed than they are at present for 
the relief of stiflTeriog humanity; and no 
tnan, we repeat,, ever uiught more profound, 
ly than Herder how to alleviate the particu* 
kr sufiet ings which now most extensively 
afflict those feebler members of the human 
family who are least able to avert them 
through ineir own slender resources. The 
horrors of war, so often excited among civi- 
lized nations themselves to their grievous 
dishonour, seem to be reserved by • christian 
nations in our day, in every part of the 
earth, exclusively as their grand mode of in- 
tercourse with heathens, but under the new 
character of wars to extend civilisation, and 
trade, and even territorial dominion, in place 
of the old wars of extermination for the 
spread of religion. By the law of nations 
Abut out from the right of appealing to the 
common sense of justice, which to civilized 
people often supplies the want of power to 
control aggression; and prohibited by the 
same law from seeking the vigorous inter- 
vention of neighbours to support resistance 
against wrong, the savage is crushed before 
he can acquire the civilisation he yearns 
for, and which in derision is made the condi- 
tion of his just treatment. The result of all 
this is manifest in the sanguinary conflicts 
in which all the great maritime Christian na- 
tions are engaged with uncivilized people, 
not only in regions remote from the imme- 
, diate influence of public opinion, but also in 
oovolries most closely bordering upon our 

own, and under the direct observation of the 
roost reflned nations. 

The American Indian, in the midst of en- 
lightened millions ot citizens of the United 
States, is hunted down by the blood-hound, 
and by the more fotal rifleman, for the sake 
of a few poor acres of swamp, or to get rid 
of the troubietiome protector of the runaway 
slave, as the Malay of Sumatra is decimated 
by Hollanders to compel the surrender of 
his unknown and pestilent forests. Tbe 
Arab of Algiers, within two days' sail of 
polished France, is attacked by her legions, 
as his fellow Arab of Aden is defrauded and 
abused by British cupidity, and as the thou-, 
sands of Zoolahs of South Africa are destroy- 
ed by missroverned British colonists* Tlie 
Tatars of Khiva, and the Cin*a8sians of the 
Ctiucasus are asssiled by enlightened Russia, 
already gorged with uncultivated wastes; 
and the natives of Australia, and a hundred 
other tribes, are systematically ruined by 
civilized gOTeminents too corrupt and too 
idle to adapt adcqtiaie remedies to the 
wrong. Consequently, all those various 
people, with reason enough, agree in one 
common sentiment excited by our sangui- 
nary career — the sentiment of hatred of 
Christians ;<— in spite of th» extreme desire 
the most savsge among them have to share 
the benefits of an improved condition of life* 
In the heart of Africa that hatred has been " 
met, caused by our violences in India ; and 
if the Esquimaux of the frozen north could 
communicate with his persecuted brother of 
Kamschatka, or the ferocioos wanderer of 
the Pampas with the peaceful islander of the 
South Sea, or the kidnapped negro with the 
solitary remnant of the victims of the convict- 
shepherds of Van Diemeii's Land — their 
united voices would utter the same cry of 
execration at the white man's name ; and 
never with more reason than now ; for the 
evil which is doing to these tribes, and 
which springs directly from principles fos- 
tered in the very heart of our civilized insti* 
tutions, was at no period more fatal in effect, 
although more Hopeless of cure. 

The eighteenth century with its ultra- 
fraudulent diplomacy , its su rpassingly corrupt 
bureaucracy, its new and most mischievous 
colonial misrule, and, above all, its profound 
hypocrisy, ended consistently in an univer- 
sal war big with universal curses ; and pre- 
pared us too well for the scenes which are 
now enacting at the outskirts of civilisation. 
The consequences of our present conflicts 
with the savages cannot , be mistaken. 
These conflicts are novel only in their ex- 
tent, and in their objects ; their parallels in 
former days having furnishedt in the scenes 


of M^HgituU P€9pb. 

of blood which followed thetn, warning 
enough to stay our hand from iniquities iden- 
tical with those of former days, and which 
must produce the like results. 

To sum up the number of the slaughter- 
ed victims of our system during the last 
three or four years alone, would be to bring 
forth to view tiie most disgraceful of our co- 
lonial annals. In South Africa upwards of 
12,000 blacks have been killed by our sys- 
tern since 1837, with many hundreds of 
whites, including women and children. In 
.the Australias, in New Zealand, in Guiana, 
in Canada, crimes have occurred of this 
Jund, which in intensity or consequences, if 
not in the number of lives lost, are of the 
deepest die. 

It is well that this is one side only of the 
reality. If the cruelties of Spaniards, of 
Englishmen, and of Hollanders in all their 
colonies during the sixteenth, feventeenlh, 
and eighteenth centuries, which the good 
meu of those times could not stop, may si ill 
be paralleled in the nineteenth, not only 
among the same people, but in every settle- 
ment of every other civilized slate, still the 
vindicators of humanity are now beginning 
to discover the causes why their predeces* 
sors such as the Las Casas, the MonSons, the 
Elliots, the Boyles« the Penns, the Berkeleys, 
the Brainerds, the B^npzets, and the Granville 
Sharpes failed ; and, in consequence of the 
general improvement of the public mind, the 
true policy when fairly presented has a better 
prospect of being adopted st present, and of 
being successfully worked out, than if it had 
been proposed at any earlier period. 

How far the views of Herder prepared 
the way for this better state of things will 
be seen in the detail about to be given of his 
sentiments upon civilizing mankind to which 
some observations are added to show what 
was wanting to his system. 

Setting out with the principle — justified 
by an accurate survey of man in every 
age and in every condition wherever known, 
— that all possess some elements of civilisa- 
tion. Herder traces its progress and revo- 
lutions step by step, and carefully pur- 
sues the inquiry throughout the whole ma- 
terial aud intellectual world ; and he con- 
eludes with confidence that the general 
tendencies of things are towards improve- 
ment. Consistently with this opinion, his 
system would foster the useful and kindly 
elements in all, in order to give to good ten- 
dencies their utmost development and influ- 
ence. Far, however, from being unobserv- 
ant of the dilFicuhies which history opposes 
to these consolatory views, it is only after 
expatiating with great eloquence and great 
candour upon the fearful miachancea that 

have befallen naliona, and after even admh- 
ting the account ** of their happiness and 
unhappiness, and of the vacillatioos of rea« 
son and passion, wisdom and folly, in their 
best rulers," to have been most melancholy, 
— that he adopts the happier conclusion, that 
through obedience to reason, and by genu- 
ine religion, all mankind will become wor. 
thy actors on the great stage of life, wheve 
wisdom is destined to create order, and 
goodness to prevail over iniquity. So fkt 
mdeed from its being a part €^ his system Co 
overlook existing evils, he on the contrary * 
studiously notices tho bad as well aa the 
good results of all human operations. For 
example, it is a solid compensation for the 
horrors of w%r to know, that this ^ trade of 
robbery, rudely exercised," as it once was, 
without any mitigation, has at length lost much 
of its savage character, the very inventkm 
of its great instrument, gunpotrder^ promis- 
ing to extinguish many of its brutalising ia* 
cidrnts. ^ Thus," says Herder, ** conforma- 
bly to an utmkerable law of nature, tlie evil 
itself has produced some good." The same 
principle he applies to commerce, to the arts» 
and even to politico. Upon this last topic, 
however, awarr, as Herder is, of the vast 
influence of political constitutions, it is plain 
that he has not formed sny definite plan as 
to the particular measures wanted to avert 
the evils, which no man ever detected more 
bSgaciously, or denounced with a more un- 
comprumising spirit. Before enlarging 
upon this grave deficiency in the great work 
of Herder* The Philosophy of History^ it 
will be convenient to show his enlightened 
views respecting the weaker branches of the 
homin family, to which the powerful in all 
ages have been unjust, and to which Eorop- 
eans still refuse the benefit of the change of 
manner?, the political liberality and the con- 
stitutional improvements so remarkable in 
our time. 

** How contracted.'* wky he, ** nrntt the scheme 
of Providence be, if every individasi of tho homan 
■pecies were to be formed to what w call eiviliia. 
tion, for wliich refined weakness would often be a 
more appropriate term ! Aroonfr a eiviliaid peopla. 
what is the number of those wbo deserve this name 7 
in what is their pre-eminence to be placed ? and 
how far does it contribute to their happiness f**— 
Preface^ p. vi. 

The Jew, therefore, the Mussulman, the 
Hindoo, the Buddhist, and the Pagan^ are 
essentially within the fold of humanity to 


With the ground of true philanthropy thus 
broadly laid, and with the abandonment of a 
prejudice prevalent in Europe agaict unbap' 
ixxed people, at least from the fir9t crusader, 
it is not surprising to find the philosopher of 



Weimar at tha head of the illustrious band, i 
which was soon to obtain Nfgro cmaoci-j 
pat ion, only as an opening to josiice to the 
op; pressed I free or bond, in wery clinie. 
Euglsnd may be proud of Berkeley and 
Granville Sharpe,and t bur followers, Clark- 
sooi VVilberforce, and Sturge : France may 
we* I bua^t her Gregoire, and her Moutyon ; 
Spain, her Las Cases; ond Americj), her 
Benezet and her Frtrnklin. Bui in Herder, 
who is not alone in Germany, that country 
possesses '* the genius of benevolence, and 
the benevolence of genius,"* displayed with 
equdi purity, and, in some points of view, 
with superior effect. From tbe essential 
distinctions which he proved to exist between 
man and all other created beings ; from the 
upright attitude of man alono of all animated 
oaiure ; from the power of speech belonging 
exclusively to him; in short, from all the 
wonderful peo^iliarities of man's ronforma- 
tion, Herder iofeis his capability of all that 
iM ioieliectual and refined, his fitness for the 
highest civilisation, and his hopes of im mor- 
tality. He shows with great force that all 
human beings, without exception, possess 
this conformatk>n in more or le^s perfection, 
varying indeed ahnostt indescribably, but be- 
ing as evidently members of one original 
race as they are absolutely disconnected 
from the various brutea which in some re- 
spects resemble them. 

•• Af the human intellect," nyt he, <« secke uni- 
ty in every kind of variety, and ihe Divine mind. 
Its prototype, haa stamped the most innumerable 
multiplicity npon the earth with unity, we may 
venture, from the vatt realm of change, to revert to 
the aimpleat poaition : aU mankind are only one and 
the tame epeciee. How many ancient fatilce of hu. 
man monsters and prodigiea have already disap- 
paarad before the Irgrht of history ! and where tradi- 
tion still repeato lemnanuof these, 1 am Ailly con. 
vincod more accurate inquiry will explain them into 
more beautiful trutha. We are. here acquainted 
with the oBranf|;-outang, and know that he has no 
claim to speech, or to be considered as man : and 
when we have % more exact accountt of the 
oonng-kubul, and aurang.guhn, the tailed eavagea 

* An interesting biographical work was publish- 
ed in Paris a few years since called La Social ^ 
Franklm-Montyon. It consisted of the portraits 
end biographies of individuals distinguinhed for 
their uselul ulents, or rare benevolence, Franklin 
being adopted as the type of the former, and Montyon 
of the latter; Franklin as the individual in whom 
genius was the most successfully directed to the 
general good, and Montyon as the most remarkable 
of all men for directing the rarest spirit nf philan- 
thropy with the soundest judgment. The words 
in the text form the motto, and express the spirit of 
this work, which co.itainsa rich gallery of examples 
under both heads. 

t The very remarkable work of Mr. Linneus 
Martin on Zoolonri now publishing, supplies by 
•spsriwiee what Holder oaJy antkipatsd by ressoo. 

of the woods of Borneo, Somitra, and the Nicobar 

islands, will vanish. The men with reverted fixt 
in Molucca, the prubably rickeity nation of dwarfs 
in Madagascar, Uie men habited tike wtmicn in 
Florida, and some utliers, deserve soch an invcsti. 
gation, as has alieady been bestowed on the Albi- 
noes, the Dondoes, the Pataganiaiis, and tbe 
aprons of the Hottentot fcmalt s. IVIen « ho »ucc oed 
in removing wants from the cn^aiion falsehoods 
from our memory, And disgraces from our nature, 
are. to the realms of troth, what the heroes of 
mythology were to tbe primitive world ; they Icraen 
the number of monsters on the earth.** — vol. i. p. 295. 

AOer thus vindicsting the dignity of the 
human rsce as a whole, Herder passes in 
review its individual branches, giving to 
each, according to its varying circumstancesr 
the place for which from time to time it be* 
comes most suited. If the love of home, the 
love of libetty, the love of offspring, mark 
the most barbarotis as strongly as the most - 
civilized ; and if this degree of identity suffi. 
ciently indicates a common nature, certain 
it also is that tbe two states of life, the savage 
and the refined, produce men of powers and 
character, exceedingly diverse, so long as- 
their conditions vary. Indolence and indus- 
try, ignorance and knowledge, poverty and 
weolth, are their several marks ; and the 
contrary habiis, which those circunsstances 
respectively create, are unfortunately not 
only in the highest desrree difficult to be 
changed, but they render tbe superior of the 
two bodies in which they prevail, in the 
highest dt'gree likewise mtolcrant of the 
other's deficiencies. Accordingly tbe civi- 
lized conqueror of the barbarian, and the 
more refined colonist of savage lands, have 
almost always exercised their superiority, 
without consideration, and often without 
mercy. Herder, in depicting the conflicts 
which from the earliest ages have taken 
place between men in these different states, 
steadily supports the cause of the weaker ; 
snd eloquently appeals to the better sympa- 
thies of human nature on behalf of those who, 
in modern times, are so exteusively the vic« 
tims of the cupidity of the strong. After de- 
scribing the misery of the Mexican Indians 
and others, he then comes to '* the throne of 
nature, and of the most barbarous tyranny, 
Peru, rich in mines and misery.'* ** All the 
powers of these tender children of nature, 
.who once lived so happily under their Incas, 
are now compressed into the single faculty 
of suOering and forbearing, whh silent ha- 
tred." •* JllfirH Sfghit* says Pinto, gover- 
nor of Bnizil, ** a Sfntlh- American appeari 
gentle, and harmless ; but on a ehter wtjttc* 
tion^ something savagf, mutrvslful, gloomy j 
and repining, is discoverable in his counte- 

'• May not aU this," asksHetdsr, •'bsaeoooilid 


of Aboriginal Ptople. 


Ibr by the fitta of the people 7 They were gentle 
and harmleia when yon visited them i and the on- 
^hionod wildness of a well diiposed race should 
have received that improvement of which it was 
capable. What can you now expect, but that, 
gloomy and mistmstfaf, they should cherish in their 
hearte the moat profound, ineradicable discontent ! 
They are braised worms, that appear hateful to oar 
eyes, in consequence of our having crushed them 
with our feet."— vol. i. p. 285. 

Again, after stating afiecting instances of 
love of home in uncivilized people, and of 
the horrors of the slave-trade, he indignantly 
exclaims : 

**What right have vou, monsters I even to ap. 
proach the country of tiiese unfortunates, much less 
to tear them from it by stealth, fraud, and cruelty T 
For ages this quarter of the globe has been theirs, 
and they belong to it : their forefkthers purchased 
it at a dear rate, at the price of the negro form and 
complexion. In fashioning them the African sun 
has adopted them as its children, and impressed on 
them its own seal: wherever yoo convey them, 
this brands yoa ae robbers^ as stealers of men*"— 
lb. p. 305. 

For the dreadful revenge of the outraged 
savage, he thus accounts. 

'* To us this seems horrible ; and it is, no doubt : 
yet the Europeans first urged them to this misdeed : 
for why did they visit their country? Why did 
they enter it as despots, arbitrarily practising vio- 
lence and extortion r* — lb. p. 306. 

In the same way the deep-seated hostility 
of the American Indian to Christians is 
traced to the injuries received from an op« 
pressive intruder. The same sympathy 
extends to China, who *' cannot be blamed 
for laying restraints on the Dutch, Russians, 
and other Europeans, when she observes 
their conduct in the iftland or continent of 
the Bast Indies, in the north of Asia, and in 
her own land." — vol. ii. p. 18. 

And the reflections which conclude the 
sketch of India will find an echo in many a 
quarter, now that at length a popular move- 
ment is making to relieve the Hindoo from 

•* Happy would it have been,** says Herder, ** for 
soeh a peaceful people to have dwelt on a solitary 
island, remote from all conquerors ; or at the foot 
of mountains inhabited by those human beasts of 
prey, the warlike Mongols ; and near those coasts 
abounding with havens, to receive the artful and 
covetous adventurers of Europe ; — how could the 
poor Hindoos maintain themselves and their pacific 
system 7 It was the constitution of Hindoetan that 
sunk it under internal and eitemal wars, till at 
length the maritime powers of Europe subjected it 
to a Toke ander which it is uttering its last groans. 
Hard ooune of the fate of nations! Yet it is 
nothing mora than the order of hatura. In the 
most beautiful and fertile re|pon of the earth, man 
must early attain refined ideas, an imagination 
widely expatiating on natare, gentle manners, and 
rsgalar institotions ', bot in this region he most toon 

▼OL. XXTK 7 

avoid laborioos activity, and thtis become the prev 
of evexy rubber who visited their happy land,-*ti& 
at length Europeans, from whom notning is remote, 
came and established empires of their own among 
them. All the information, and all the merchao- 
dixe, that they have brought us thence, by no means 
compensate the evil they have done to a nation by 
whom they were never offended.**— -voL ii, p. 39. , y 

Herder pursues a similar strain of re- 
proach against the oppressors of the ^^ancieiU 
ahoriginea of Europe** — the Basques, the 
Gael) the Cimbri, — with their lands seized, 
their language eradicated, and their very 
name almost lost before successive invasions ; 
— the Fins, pressed into the remote north,—- 
and the Lqttonians and Prussians cruelly 
enslaved by their pretended protectors and 
spiritual guides. 

" So that centuries will pass before the yoke is 
removed, and these peaceful people are recompensed 
for the barbarities they sufiered, for losing of land 
and liberty, by being humanely formed anew to the 
use and enjoyment of an improved fieedom.** — vol. 
iL p. 325—339. 

The crushed Slavian nations, as we have 
shown in another article in the present num- 
ber, afford fresh occasion for the display of 
the same kindly sentiments, and more san- 
guine anticipations of the not distant time, 

" These now deeplv sunk, but once industrious 
and happy people, will at length awake from their 
long and heavv slumber, shake off the chains of 
slavery, enjoy the possession of their delightful land, 
from the Adriatic Sea to the Carpathian Mountains, 
from the Don to the Muldaw, and celebrate on 
them their ancient festivals of peaceftil trade and 
industry.** — ^vol. ii. p. 351. 

These few extracts show that Herder 
estimated correctly the disastrous conse- 
quences of disregard for national rights, and 
of the evils of conquest ; and his remarkable 
exposition of the uses of religion, and above 
all, of the genuine Christian religion, in spite 
of early and great abuses, with his views of 
the humanizing effects of the arts, of litera- 
ture, and of commerce, prove that he had 
excellrnt views respecting the transitioa 
from barbarism to civilisation. Neverthe- 
less he is greatly defective, not so much in 
laying too little stress upon the wonders to 
be accomplished for mankind by wise and 
humane legislation, as in omitting to set 
forth the particular laws and the principles 
of government that would abate the evils, 
and augment the good which he so well de- 
scribes. This omission springs from his 
melancholy experience. He himself knew 
only despotisms* and perceiving the mise* 
ries brought even by the free, as for exam- 
ple, the Dutch and the Englishi upon the 
savage, he too hastily concluded that anarchy 



Harder f th% PrWdar of Aboriginal Pooplo. 


is better than anj rule whatever. Hating f pica now of daily intereat* A diatruat of 

misgovernment, and hopelesa of being able 
to leforni it, he even in a fit of dt spa ir aban- 
dons hia general confidence in the better 
prospects of man. and if he does not incline 
to the error of Rousseau in favour of savage 
life, he would in this disposition leave uncivil, 
ized mun» without aiding him in his efforts to 

<* It is incomprehentible," tayi he, " how nan 
•hould b« made fur no state, ao that his first true 
happiaevs mast necessarilj^ 'pnng from its conetitu- 
tiuu ; for how many peoplo upon eanh are entirely 
ignorant of all government &nd yet are happier 
than many who have sacrificed themselves for the 
food of the state f I will not enter upon the tieno- 
fits or mischiefs which this artificial form of soci- 
ety brings with it ; but it may be observed, as every 
art is merely an instmment, and the muet comph- 
cated instrument necessarily requires the most pru- 
dence and delicacy in managing it, this is an ol>- 
vioos consequence, tbat with the greatness of a 
state, and the intricate art of its constituiiun, the 
danger of rendering individuals miserable is infi. 
Bitely augmented. In large states, hundreds must 
pine with hunger tbat one may wallow m luxury ; 
tboueands are oppressed, and hunted to death, that 
one crowned fool or piiilosopher may gratify his 
whims. Nsy, as all politicians say that every well 
constituted stale must be a machine, regulated 
only bv the will of one, what increase of bapj^inesp 
can it bestow, to servo in this machine as a thought- 
It H member? or probably indeed, contrary to our 
belter knowledge and conscience, to be whirled 
round all our lives on an Ixion*s wheel, that leaves 
the tormented wretch no hope of comfort, unlets 
perhsps in strangling the activity of his free, self- 
governing mind, to seek happiness in the insensi. 
bility of a machine 7 Oh, if we be men, let us 
thank Providence that this was not made the gen. 
eral destination of mankind. Millions on this glulie 
live without government; and must not every one 
of us, even under tte most exquisite government, 
if we will be hsppy, begin where the savage begins, 
seeking to acquire and maintain healih of body 
and soundness of mind, the hsppincss uf his house 
and his mind, not from the state, but from himself 7 
Father and mother, husband and wife, eon and 
brother, friend and man, are natural relations, in 
which we may l)e happy ; the state gives us nothing 
but instruments of art, and those, alas ! may rob 
na of something tar more essential — may rob us of 
ourselves. Kindly considerate wss it therefore in 
Providence to prefer the easier hsppine«s of indi- 
viduals to the artificial ends of great societies, and 
spare generations those costly mschincs of stale as 
much as possible. It has wonderfully separated 
nations, not only by woods and mountains, seas 
and deserts, rivers and climates, but more particu- 
larly by languages, inchnatioos, and characters; 
that tlio work of subjugating despotism might be 
rendered more difficult, that all the four quarters of 
the f lobe might not be crammed into the belly of a 
wooden horse. No Nimrod has yet been able to 
drive all the inhabitants of the world into one psrk 
for himself and his successors ; and thoosh it has 
been for centuries the object of united £urope to 
•rect ht rself into a despot, compelling all the na. 
tiona of the earth to be happy in her wav, this 
hsppiness^ispensing deity is vet far from having 
obtained her end." — vol. i. p. 401. 

the power of any government to do good to 
uncivilized tribes — a setitiment ari^iing from 
the calamities Inflicted uporr then) by all 
govern men ts-^now paralyses and misleads 
many friends of the oppressed aborigines. 
It strengthens the hands of the i It-disposed, 
by causing inquiry to be deferred as to 
what guarantees might be establibhed to 
check illiberal and unjust proceedings to- 
wards those people. The same unreasona- 
ble and unreasoning doubts of the truo 
power of law to put down iniquity, also 
prompts good men to resort to unsuitable 
means to promote excellent purposes ; and 
at this very moment those doubts constitute 
stumbling blocks to the success of the no* 
blest enterprize in which the benevolent 
were ever engaged. We allude to the 
eflforts of a powerful party to place the po. 
litical direction of the civilisation of Africa 
chiefly in the hands of the missionaries, the 
result of %vhich would necessarily be the ruin 
of the cause through the corruption of those 
who are now admirable agents within their 
proper sphere. 

The good oflices of religicni of commerce, 
and of the arts, we repeat, are sufficiently 
esii mated by Herder ; and, as has been 
stated, he is generally acquainted %vith the 
humanizing influence of good government. 
He himself anticipates the restoration of 
prosperity to the Slovian nations through 
*' legidaiion and politics^ instead of a mili« 
tary spirit."— -vol. ii. p. 351. He is quite 
aware that 

<* Social institutions are the most exquisite pro. 
dnctions of the human mind, and human industry, 
as they embrace the whole atate of things, accord* 
ing to time, place, and circumalances, and eonse- 
quenUy must be the result of much experience and 
assiduous attention." — vol. ii. p. 484. 

He aaw clearly the value of 

** The munieipal low which arose in the middle 
ages, very different from that of I he Romans, and 
erected on the basis of liberty and security, accord- 
ing to German principles, and productive of in. 
dustry, arts, and subsistence.** — ib. p. 53 8. 

Herder nevertheless knew well the want 
of something better than what has ever 
existed ; and he concludea his great work 
in these striking words : 

*< In Europe men have not yet thought of a syi. 
tem of civilisation by meaba of gooii training, good 
laws, and good political institutions, calculated to 
embrace all ranks in society, and to extend to the 
whole human race. And when toill they think of 
$ueh a oyotem ? It is not to be despaired of. The 
intelligence of civilized society improves ; its rcst- 
• less activity spreads far and wide, ever gaining 

I new strength in its slow, but generally pruKpcroas 
This paasage, it will be seen, raises to* I progreaa, and that very alowneaa in teaching matmw 


Printing and PublUking at Home and Abroad. 


Mj wttmn to bo a luro gaaranteo to oxeellaBee in 
the boat things .** 

And in Johannvon Multor'd edition of the 
Philosophy of History may be seen a sketch 
of additional chapters fouud among Herder's 
manuscripts a: his death, in which his views 
must have been developed more satisfactori. 
ly. The 23d, 24ih, and 25th of those chap- 
ters have the following note of their contents 
for the 16th century, after a grand outline 
of a similar character for the preceding GUO 



•<23J Ch. The new Spirit of the Scieneea in 
Italy and Frmnoe. The Development of the Fine 
Aria. The RighU of Man and Equality. Spirit of 
Industry and Commerce. Money, Luxury, and 
Ttxo*. I^gidaliori. General remarkii. 

•• 24th Ch. Ruwia. Tiio East and VVeat Indies. 
Afrioa. European System. Relations of Europe 
with the rest of the World. 

'*25th Ch. The Civilisation of the Huipan 
Race considered, in reference to Reli^un, to Law, 
and Government, to Commerce, to tho Arts, 
and to Literature and Science. The special 
Nature of the Human Mind. lis irenerallnflnence 
on alJ Things. The ProspecUof Man."* 

The grandeur of the edifice to be erect- 
ed according to this plan is duly appreciat- 
ed by Von Muller, who was himnelf emi* 
Dently quHllQed to bo the successor in com- 
pleting the work ; although he asks with a 
na'ural and modest doubt where that cue 
cessor can be found. 

If the just opinions of Herder, which 
are tho^e of Lord Bacon, as to ^' law anJ 
government" being among the great means 
of civilisation, were consistently carried out ; 
and if he had completed what in the parts 
of his work touching this point is at present 
but a splendid fragment, the desponding 
passage above quoted could not have been 
written ; but in its place there would have 
appeared a sketch of the particular Icgisla- 
lion and iosiiiutions necessary to render the 
ipreading oF civilized man beneficial, and 
Dot destructive, to his uncivilized fellows in 
the woods and savannahs of America; hi 
the deserts and forests of Africa; in the 
plains of Australia and India ; and in the 
islands of the Southern and Easterq Seas. 

Without attempting here* to ofifer even a 
slight outline of a system of this character, 
we may safely say to the numerous indivi- 
duals among us who cannot look upon the 
rapid extension of British power and British 
colonics, without feeling that the establish- 
ment of such a system is due to the national 
honour, — let Herder's Philosophy of History 
be your earliest study, with tho determina- 

* J. 6. von fIerder*B Sammtliche Werke, Sien- 
benter Tbeilu, p. 305. 12mo*. Stattzart uod To- 
Cotta. 10S8. 

tion to supply from the results of Britfth 
experience what, in the author's peculiar 
position, it is not surprising should be want* 
ing in him*. 

This article, as the reader will, we trust, 
have supposed, is not written on Herder. 
To do justice to his genius and character 
will demand a far wider range of criticism, 
and more copious illustrations, than it is, 
at present, our intention to enter upon. We 
do not even enter at large upon the P/it7o 
sophy of History, having selected a single 
point for consideration, — namely, the Ger- 
mm author's visws respecting the ^duty of 
civilized towards uncivilized nations. The 
time hcems propitious for the topic ; and wa 
repeat, that they who take a lead in found* 
ing new British empires in Australia, New 
Zealand, America, Africa, and the East, 
could not call a better councillor to their 
aid than this admirable man. 

Art. V. — I. Specimens do Caractlrt Fran^ 
^ais el Etrangera de Vlmprimerie Roy ah* 
Paris, Imp/imerie Royale. 1835. 

2. Debuts de llwprimerit d Strasbourp^ on 
Recherch^s x«r Us Travaux Myslirieux 
de Gutenberg dans cetfe vifJe, el ^tir le 
ProUs qui luifut intents en 14«39 d cello 
occasion. Par L^ndeLaborde. Paris, 
S^chener. 1 MO. 

3. DebiUs de Flmprimerie d Moyence et d 
Bamberg, ou Description de Leilres d^ln* 
dulgence du Pape Nickolao V. pro regno 
Cypri, imprimees en 1454. Par L^on do 
Lubordc. Paris, chez Sechener ; k Stras* 
bourg, chez Levrault; ^ Leipsig, ches 
Rudolph Werzcli. 1840. 

Or all the events connected with the ulti* 
mate destiny of man, printing amid human 
inventions will probably exercise the most 
important infiurnces. When it burst forth 
like the dawn of light, it both awakened the 
minds of men, and poured upon them that 
radiance, which had long been held en- 
tombed within the dark precincts of monat* 
teries. Previous to that epoch, the thoughts 
of men were ever in danger of sinking with 
them into their graves, or if they survived, 
the individuals who originated them, were 
deprived of their just fame ; through print* 
ing, the intellectual labours of mankind are 
preserved and perpetuated. Fabric upon 
fabric is continually added to the structure 
of human intelligence, and from the living 
monuments of the nast, men gather the ex* 
porienco that enables them to aacend guP 


Printing and Publishing at Home and Abroad* 


higher, and to tak^ their own upward 

And truly this is a mighty power for man 
to wield ; the characters traced by his pen 
are circulated by its means amongst thou- 
sands of human beings, contributing possibly 
to their comfort and prosperity in social life, 
and becoming their consoling friends in soli- 
tude. Above all it lent its powerful aid to 
religion, when it burst asunder the chains by 
which men were barred from the near ap- 

Jiroach to the book of life and truth, and de« 
ivered it unfettered and entire, a most pre- 
cious gift, to all future generations; thus 
hastening the period when the words *' and 
there shall be one fold and one shepherd" 
shall be fulfilled. 

Printing has also greatly contributed to 
the production of learned men in Europe. 
Lord Herbert in his life of King Henry VIII. 
supposed that Cardinal Wolsey more particu- 
larly alluded to the effects of this art, in his 
letter to the Pope, where he remarks : 

*< tbtt hii HolineM could not be ignorant, what di. 
Terse effects this new invention of printioff had pro. 
duoed, for it bad brought in and restored books and 
learning, so together it had been the occasion of 
those sects and schisms, when men begin now to 
call in question the present faith and tenets of the 
Church, and to examine how imr religion is departed 
£rom its primitive institutions ; and that, which par- 
ticularly was most to be lamented, they had exhort- 
ed lay and ordinary men to read the Scriptures, and 
to pray in the vulgar tongue, and if this was suffered, 
besides all other dangers, the common people at last 
might come to believe, that there was not so much 
use of the clergy.** 

The monks were exceedingly alarmed by 
the encroachment, which printing threatened 
to make on the power which they ever used 
over the mmds of their fellow men ; and 
they had the sagacity to perceive that the 
eyes of those who had hitherto been accus- 
tomed to place implicit faith in their precepts, 
would now soon be opened. The good fa- 
thers too, one of whose chief occupations 
was that of copying manuscripts, viewed 
with an eye as jealous as that of a Manches- 
ter weaver, and not without cause, the mighty 
''machine^" which threatened '*to throw 
them out of work." A certain vicar of 
Croydon too, in a sermon which he preach- 
ed at St Paul's Cross, made use of these 
remarkable words, *^ we must root out print- 
ing or printing will root out us." 

It has been surmised by some, that the 
art of printing has been practised in former 
ag98 amongst the eastern nations. 

It appears that stone was the first sub- 
stance upon which any figures or leUers were 
engraved ; according to Epigenes,* the an- 

* AU the M8S. give ** DCCXX. annorum.** The 
inssctaonof M. by soms sditoisof PUny sppeus 

cient Chaldeans engraved or wrote their 
astronomical observations on bricks lor about 
720 years. And the characters upon the 
Babylonian bricks brought into this country 
are manifestly impressions produced by an 
engraved block, as in most cases several of 
the letters are indistinct, as if an unequal 
pressure had been applied; and engraved 
cylinders also have been found, which are 
supposed to have been employed in impress- 
ing characters upon the soft clay, previous 
to Its being hardened by exposure either to 
fire or the sun. 

In treating of the subject of printing some 
reference should be made to the history of 
paper, but our readers are probably too fa- 
miliar with all that is known of the papyrus 
of the Egyptians, one of the most ancient 
substitutes on record, and the gradual im- 
provements in various countries down to the 
present day, to need our giving more than a 
passing allusion to it; and to treat this 
branch worthily, would require a separate 
treatise. Such of our readers as require 
more information respecting this subject may 
have recourse to a far better source in Sir 
J. G. Wilkinson's admirable work on the 
"Manners and Customs of the Ancient 
Egyptians." Neither is it requisite to dwell 
on the shoulder-blades of sheep, on which 
the early Arabs engraved their romantic ef- 
fusions. The papyrus paper, from Egypt, 
was also in use amongst them, until the in* 
troduction of parchment 250 years before 
our own era, a material for which we arein* 
debted to the ambition of Eumenes, who, 
wishing to possess a more splendid library 
than that at Alexandria, was frustrated in 
his endeavours by the jealous efibrts of the 
Ptolemies, and this circumstance led to the 
invention and employment of a substitute. 

Parchment held its ground until the use of 
it was in some measure superseded, by the 
discovery of the method of making paper 
from cotton and silk, called carta bombycina, 
and is supposed to have been known in the 
beginning of the twelfth century. It derived 
its appellation of carta Damascena from hav- 
ing been introduced into Spain from Syria. 
The Chinese were acquainted with the art of 
making paper in great perfection from vari* 
ouis vegetable substances as early as a. d. 
95, and Gibbon telU us '* from credible tes- 
timony, that paper was first jm ported from 
China to Samarcand a. h. 30 (a. n. 652) 
and invented, or rather introduced, at Mecca 
A. H. 88, (a. d. 710)." 

The period at which linen paper was first 

wholly uneapported by eziiting MSS., althong^h 
Cicero may be adduced in fiivonr of the reading 
DCCXXM. in two paasagw, 


PrifUing and PubUihing at Home and Abroad. 


used has not been accurately ascertained ; . St. Christopher. M, Leon de Laborde* in 

buty apparently, it was not prior to the ele- 
venth century* The Moors introduced it into 
Spain. The earliest specimen preserved of 
itf is an Arabic version of the Aphorisms of 
Hippocrates, bearing date of a. d. 1 100 ; 
and Casiri in his catalogue of Arabic MSS. 
in the library of the Bscurial, makes espe- 
cial mention that many of them are written on 
this kind of paper. It is certain, however, 
that linen paper was very rare in Europe 
until the fifieenth century, and it was not 
before 1690 that writing or printing paper 
was made in London. Previous to that pc- 
riod we had our supplies of it from Holland 
and France. A kind of mixed paper, how. 
ever, must have been in use long before, as 
a letter addressed to Henry III. by Ray. 
mond, son of Raymond sixth Count of Tou* 
louse, is still preserved in the Tower of 
London. This, therefore, must have been 
between the years 1216 and 1272. 

The Chinese practised a kind of printing 
at least 2000 years ago, but not with movea- 
ble types. This seems to have been some- 
what similar to the mode now in use among 
us of printing wood cuts from blocks ; 
and even in the present day, they still exe« 
etiie works in this manner, as well as by 
moveable types. The manner in which they 
do it is by preparing a smooth block of wood, 
generally from the pear-tree. Being planed, 
the block ia squared to the size of two pages 
— the surface is then rubbed over with size, 
generally made from boiled rice, which 
makes it perfectly smooth. The characters 
to be printed are written on thin paper the 
size of the block, which is glued on to it in 
an inverted position, so that the characters 
can be perfectly seen through the back. 
The intermediate parts are then cut away 
with great skill, and the letters are tlius left 
in relief, and finally the paper is gently re- 
moved. The Chinese chronicles state that 
this mode of printing was invented 50 b. c, 
but that paper was not manufactured till 95 
A. D., so that printing was in use 145 years 
before the invention of paper. Previous to 
that time, they used a kind of silk instead of 
paper. This was certainly the nearest ap- 
proach to the modern mode. 

Towards the latter end of the fourteenth 
century, a rude attempt was made in England 
by the printing of playing cards, from wood- 
en blocks. This was followed by what were 
called block books, on which, at first, only 
the rude figure of a saint with a few lides of 
letters were cut, and gradually entire pages 
were impressed in this manner. The ear- 
liest block book that we know of, bears the 
date of 1423, and is in Earl Spencer's libra- 
ry ; it contains a very curious wood cut of 

his interesting work on the History of the 
Invention of Printing, more particularly no- 
tices this, together with the Letters of Indul- 
gence of 1454. In the dates he gives us of 
the chief incidents in the invention of print- 
ing, he imagines \hat the probable period at 
which these blocks were first executed in the 
Low Countries was about a. d. 1410. These 
were followed by a few editions of a short 
grammer of Donatus, in what may be called 
wooden stereotype. 

Our readers, under this head of early 
publications, must be reminded of the obli- 
gations we are under for the possession of 
many ridh and valuable MSS., to three 
great monastic bodies who followed the Ben- 
edictine rule — that of the Clugni, instituted 
towards the early part of the tenth century, 
the Carthusians, in 1084, and the Cister- 
cians, in 1096, who applied themselves with 
the greatest zeal to the propagation of clas- 
sical literature, remarkable for the beauty of 
the hand writing, and more convenient sys- 
tem of abbreviation. The abbey of Clugni 
was especially rich in Greek and Latin au- 
thors, and indeed few Benedictine monas- 
teries were without some kind of library. 

The manner of publishing the works .of 
authors in England, about the time of Henry 
III., was by having them read before one of 
the monasteries or other judges appointed by 
the public, for three days successively ; and 
if they were approved of, copies of them 
were permitted to be taken by monks, 
scribes, and illuminators, trained up to that 
purpose for their livelihood. The complaint 
of poor William Caxton shows what a tedious 
process it was. 

•• Thus end I thw book, and for mocbe ta in 
wryting of the stme, my penne ia worn, mjm hande 
wery, and myn eyne dimmed with over moche 
lookyngr on the whit paper, and that age crepeth on 
me dayly.** • • • 

Sometimes half the life of a man was de- 
voted to a jingle work. . Guide de Jais 
wrote and illuminated a very beautiful MS. 
Bible, which he began in his fortieth year, 
and did not finish until he was upwards of 
ninety. Great indeed was the anxiety of 
the learned men amongst the ancients to 
possess a library, notwithstanding the ex- 
pense and difficulty of procuring it, as is 
shown from the following extract by Dr. 
Conyers Middleton, in his Life of Cicero: 

*« Nor wai he (speaking of Cicero) leae eager in 
making a collection of Qreek hooka, and forming a 
library by the aame opportunity of Atticua* help. 
This was' AtticQB* own paasion, who having frceac. 
ceaa to all the Athenian librariea, waa employing hia 
riavea in copying iho workaof their best wnt«rr 


Priniing and PmdUfAing or Ham^ and Jihr^ad. 


not only for lila own on. bot for nle bIho, and the 
eominon prolit bolh of the ilave and Uio maatcr; 
for Atticui wa« *remarkablo above all rncn of his 
rank for a family of learned alavei, having scarce a 
lootboy in his houae, who was not trained both to 
read and write for him. Bf tli» advantage, be 
made a very large collection of choice and curious 
booka, and signified to Cicero his design of selling 
them, yet seems to have intimated wiihal, that he 
expected a larger sum for them than Cicero could 
•earcely apare, whieh gave ocoanion to Cicero to 
bog of him in several Teiters, to reserve the whole 
number for him till he could raise money enough to 
purchase. * Pray keep your books,' says he, * for 
me, and do not despair of my being ablo to call 
tbem mine, which 1 can compass, and shall think 
iDvself richer than Crassus, and deq>iae the fine 
Tiflaa and garden* of them all.* ** 

The folfowing extract from an epistle of 
Antonius Bononia Becatelius, surnamed Par- 
rome, to Alphonsus King of Naples* bears 
testimony tn the great expense and trouble 
in transcription of works. 

'* You lately wrote to me IVoro Fkirence that the 
works of Titus Livius are theie to be sold in Tery 
handsome booka, and that the price of each book im 
130 crowns of gold. Therefore I entreat your ma- 
jesty, tliat yon caoaeto be bought for us Livy, which 
we used to call the king of book% and causo it to 
be sent hither to us. I shall in the mean time pro. 
care money which I am to give for the price of the 
book. One thing I want to know of your prudence, 
whether 1 or Poggius have done bent; he, that he 
miifht buy a country house near Florence, sold 
Livy, which he had writ in a very fair hand, and f , 
to purchase Livy, have ezpuecd a pieee of land to 
■ale. Your goodness and modesty have encouraged 
mo to auk these things with familiarity of yon. 
Farewell, and triamph." 

The laie Mr. Ames had a folio MS. of the 
Boman He la Rose, and on the last leaf is 
wri'ten, ** C'est lyvre costa au palas de Parys 
qua/ante coronnes d'ors, sans mentyr," that 
if, '^This book cost at the palace of Paris, 
40 crowns of gold, without lying," equal to 
about 33/. 6dr. 6d. 

A deed preserved in the library of the 
college of Laon, in Paris, and witnessed by 
two notaries in the year 1332, shows that 
MSS. were told in those days by contracts 
as binding as those by which estates were 
transferred. As a still more striking in- 
stance of the high estimation in which such 
property was held, the Countess of Anjou 
ntiid for a copy of tho homilies of Haimon, 
bishop of Ilnlberstadt, 200 sheep. 5 quarters 
of wheat, and the same quantity of rye, 
which in our Hays would almost make a man's 
fortune in Australia. 

SevernI cities have maintained their claim 
to having been tho scene of the glorious in- 
Tention of Printing by moveable letters, with 
as much periin«icity as the seven cities con- 
tended for the birth pince of Ilomcr. We 
refer such of our readers os delight in these 
discussioDSy to the interesting work we have 

already mentioned, of M* Leon de Laborde, 
who has. published many of the curious suits 
and controversies of those early times in the 
orii^inal German, with a French translation. 
Our space will not aMojv us to enter into a 
detailed account of these, but we will give the 
prominent features of tho early history of 
the itiveniion. 

John (Tensfleish of Sulgeloch, better known 
by the name of Gutenberg, a native of Mr ntz, 
settled at Strasburg, in 1424, where he car* 
ricd on the business of polishing mirrors and 
precious stones, and is supposed to have 
there conceived the first idea of priming 
about 1440, though Labordo is of opinion 
that the real inventor is not known. The 
following ten years were probably spent in 
perfecting bis inventidh, as there is no evi- 
dence that he actually published any thing 
before that period. Subsequently to 1440 
Gutenberg took into partnership Andrew 
Drizehn, John Riflfatid Andrew Eielman, all 
natives of that city. Their agreement was 
for the term of five years, but owing to some 
differences that arose between them, ihey sc« 
parated before its expiration. In 1450 he 
was induced to associate himself with John 
Fust or Faust on the latter advancing him 
800 florins at 6 per cent, and 900 more to 
be spent in wages and materials for the es- 
tablishment. The priority of Gutenberg \% 
disputed by the city of Huarlem, which claims 
the honour of the invention for Lawrence 
Costar, one of its own citizens. The pre- 
tensions of the latter have been strenuously 
advocated in Holland by M. Meerman, in 
his Orgines Typogrnphicie, and by M KO^ 
nig, in his work on the Origin of Printing, 
which last mentioned work obtained a prize 
at Haarlem in ISIO. In 1628, Scriverius, 
of Haarlem, published the fragment of a 
MS., without date, by Juan Van Zuyren, a 
burgomaster of that city, who died in 1591 : 
it was entitled "On the First and True In- 
vention of Printing, unheard of until now." 
Scriverius asserted that he received tho frag- 
ment anonymously, and it does, not appear 
that t|)e name of the inventor is mentioned. 

Hadrianus Junius, a learned Dutchman, 
in his History of Holland, in Latin, publish- 
ed in 1578, ascril)ed tho invention to Law- 
rence the son of John Costar (or Kostar, sig- 
nifying Sacristan), and mentions that the 
idea first occurred to him from cutting let* 
ters on a tree, and thence upon pieces of 
wood. He then made some glutinous Ink, 
as he found that common ink sunk into the 
paper, and with these rude materia tsi he print- 
ed, in the Flemish tongue, a book called 
** S|)eculum Humance Salvation is," the leaves 
of which were glued together in pairs, as 
they were only printed on one side, and the 


Printing and PfMi$king at Hom$ md JibmkA 

blank sides would have appeared unsightly. 
He next tried leaden and tin typfs, and took 
into partnership bis servant John. We need 
not remind our readers of tlie current fable 
of John's thcfr, and how be finally set up 
printing on his own account at Mentz. Mr. 
Santandcr insists that no such person as 
Costa r existed, but that if even be did live, 
that he difd in 1440, a year before the rob- 
bery is said to have been committed. Other 
legends are cited in confirmation of the 
tale, but it is more particulurly on the Au- 
thority of the above story that the inhabit- 
ants of Haarlem hold annual festivals, and 
have raised monuments in commemora- 
tion of Lawrence Costa r, io their eyes the 
sole inventor of priming. 

But let us return to Gutenberg, who n 
general iy allowed to have been the real in- 
ventor. Wiih him and Fust was a^sociated 
Peter Schcsfier, tho servant and son-in-law 
of the latter. In 1452 SchoBfier made a 
great improvement in the art, by contriving 
on easier mode of making types, by forming 
punches of engraved steel, by which matrices 
were struck, from which the types were cast. 
This produced the uniformity of letters, n 
great desideratum, and tended to economise 
tbeir labour. Each therefore, fulfilled bis 

Sart in the invention. Fust being tho ostensi- 
le patron in the establishment. Hansard 
termed them ^' :he grand typographicnl tri. 
umvirate." The first work that issued from 
their press is generally allowed to be the 
Latin Bible, without a date, which, having 
been found about the middle of last century 
in the Cardinal Mazarini's library at Paris, 
bears his name. Of the various dates that 
have been asssigned to it, 1455 appears to 
be the roost probable. It was a splendid de- 
dication of the noble art to the Giver.of all 
Wisdom, in thus making tbeir first attempt 
by printing the entire Bible, and is a curious 
proof of their unshrinking perseverance and 
tho confidence tliey placed in their invention. 
Before its completion, however, it appears 
that Gutenberg had some dispute with Fust 
with respect to tho repayment of his loan, 
and the partnership was dissolved in 1455, 
so that the work was brought to its conclu- 
sion by Fust and Sctioefier only. 

Gutenberg eitabliohcd a printing press at 
Mentz, under the patronage of Dr. Conrad 
Uumbrachtor Humcry,who was in fact the 
proprietor, as he advancfd the whole of the 
money to support it. In H60 the great Latin 
dictbnary entitled Catholicon Johannis de 
Balbis, issued from this press, and during the 
same year the Constitutiones dementis V., 
which latter work, however, some authors 
have ascribed to that of Fust and Schcefier. 
While Gutenberg was working his opposi- 

tion press, his late partners were aetively 
pursuitig their labours, snd in 1457 produ- 
ced the first Psalter extant, with the names 
of the printers, and the date on the last page, 
in the form of a colophon or notice. An* 
other Psalter was printed by them with sim- 
ilar characters in 145S^, and in the same year, 
*' Durandi Rationale," being a treatise on the 
liturgical offices of the Church. Van Praet 
thinks that the Psalters were printed 
from wooden types, and that the last named 
work was the earliest prodtx:tion of the cast 
types, bearing the name and date of the 
printers. A Bible without a date, but sup- 
posed to have ap[)eared between 1460 and 
1462, is ascribed by some to Gutenberg, 
and by others to Pfister, who set up a press 
at Bamberg. The Mentz Bible, published 
in 1462, was considered his first production, 
until the discovery of the Mazarin Bible, 
Tho labours of the printers were suspended 
owing tu tho invasion of the city by Adol« 
phus Count of Nassau. In 1465 Gutenberg 
was attached to thp court of Adolphus, ana 
admitted amongst his gentlemen. It seema 
uncertain at what period he died, but there is 
not any noiice of him later than 1469, and 
his printing apparatus was given up to Dr« 

Fust subsequently resumed his laboursy 
and in 1465 produced theOfllices of Cicero, 
and the following year a second edition of 
the same work. Shortly after which, he 
went to Paris for the purpose of selling some 
of his bibles, and is supposed to have died 
there of the p!ague, as from that period the 
name of Schoeffer alone appears in the works 
which issued from that press. 

The legend of Doctor Faustus and the 
Devil is said to have been derived from the 
following circumstances: The form of the 
olden types closely resembled the ordinary 
letters in MSS. ; and Fust, in order to keep 
his invention a secret, tried to pass off his 
books as MSS., but from his offering tliem 
for sale at ()0 crowns each, instead of 500, 
which was the ordinary price demanded by 
the scribes, he was considered to have deal- 
ings with the Devil, and the uniformity of 
the copies strengthened the suspicion. The 
red ink also, which embellished his editions, 
being of a very brilliant colour, was suppos* 
ed to be his blood, and the story goes, that 
to save himself from bL-ing burnt, he repeal* 
ed his art to his Parisian judges. 

We have been tempted to dwell longer 
than may perhaps be necessary upon the first 
productions of the press, from the interest 
with which we always contemplate the ex* 
irsordinary perseverance displayed by the 
fathers of this glorious invention. In our 
last numberi in the article of ** the Guten< 


Priming and PuhliMng ai Honu and Jttroad. 


berg Jubilee in Germany," it will be 
with what joyous enthusiasm that name is 
greeted on the festal day* and our readers 
will not fail to remember the inscription 
which is on the front of the pedestal sup* 
porting the splendid statue raised to his 
memory at Mentz : — 



Qui Primm Omnium Literas Mn 

Imprimendas Invenitt 

Hae Arte de Orbe Toto bene Merenti r* 

On the breaking up of the chief printing 
presses, the workmen, released from their 
obligations, of course spread themselves 
amongst various cities, and set up on their 
own account. The cities where printing was 
at first most actively carried on were Bam- 
berg, Cologne, Strasburg, Augsburg, besides 
two or three others, and within a very 
short time books were issued from all these 
places. Henry Becktermunze commenced 
at Elfeld or Eltwel in the Rhingau, by print- 
ing a Latin and German Dictionary^ ex- 
tracted from the Catholicon, and said to be 
with the same characters. This was finish- 
ed November 4th, 1467, by Nicholas his 
brother, who two years afterwards printed 
a second edition^ which, after a nearly simi- 
lar interval, was followed by a third, and in 
1477 a fourth edition of the same work ap- 
peared. In the mean time Uiric Zell and 
Pfister were actively prosecuting their la- 
bours at Cologne and Bamberg ; yet not- 
withstanding their zeal, books were produc- 
ed but slowly at the commenc(^ment« and 
according to Panzer only twenty-four differ- 
ent works appeared between 1461 and 1470. 

In 1469 Uiric Gering and two others, 
who had been formerly employed by Fust 
as pressmen, were induced by Fichet and 
Lapierre, rectors of the Sorbonne, to come 
to Paris, and commence printing. The 
epistles of Gasparin of Barziza were the 
earliest result of their labours. Italy also 
began at this time to try her strength. 
Sweynheim and Pannartz, who had also 
worked under Fust, set up a press at the 
monastery of Subiaco, in the Appennines. 
This monastery contained a numerous col- 
lection of MSS., and was more suitable for 
their enterprise, from the circumstance of 
the monks being Germans. In 1466 they 
left Subiaco for Rome, where they actively 
followed their occupation. About the same 
period Cennini, a' goldsmith, established a 
press at Florence ; John of Spire, a Ger* 
man, set up another at Venice ; and between 
1471 and 1480, according to Panzer, 1297 
books were printed in Italy alone, — 234 of 
which were editions of ancient classical au- 

thors. Poland also made some progress in 
the art, although there was a remarkable 
gap in her progress, for between the years 
1465 and 1500 we have no evidence that 
any work emanated from Polish presses. 

To Zarot, of Milan, belongs the distinc* 
tion of having printed the first Greek Gram- 
mar, by Constantine Lascaris, in 1476. 
This was followed in 1480 by Craston's 
Lexicon, which by all accounts was nothing 
more than a very imperfect vocabulary. 
Before him no one had attempted to cast 
Greek types, with the exception of a very 
few occurring in some publkuiiions hy 
Sweynheim and Pannanz. Other printers 
inserted any Greek words they met with by 
the pen* In 1480 the Hebrew characters 
made their appearance in separate types: 
two Jewish Rabbins, Joshua and Moses, are 
said to have been the first who attempted 
them, at Saccino, in the duchy of Milan. 

Presses were establisbed in the Low 
Countries, at Deventer, Utrecht, Louvain^ 
Basle, as also at Buda, in Hungary. Noth* 
ing seems to discourage the patience of the 
German printers ; for besides the editions of 
the Scriptures, Mentelin of Strasburg, in 
1478, brought forth the great Encyclopssdia 
of Vincent ofBeauvais, in ten volumes folio. 
In the ten years between 1470 and 1480, 
France produced several works. An edi- 
tion of Cicero ad Herennium appeared at 
Angers in 1476, and another of Horace at 
Caen in 1480. There is a dispute amongst 
the French writers as to the first book 
printed in their language; some declare 
that it is Le Jardin de D6voiion, par Colard 
Mansion of Bruges, which appeared in 1473, 
while others contend that Le Roman de 
Baudouin Comte de Fiandres, published at 
Lyon in 1474, was anterior to the former. 
One of the most important works of that pe- 
riod was Les Grands Chroniques de St* 
Denis, a large volume printed at Paris in 
1476. It was not very long before the light 
of this invention was shed upon our own 
country. William Caxton was bom in 1412. 
He was apprenticed to an opulent merchant 
of London, and went to the Low Countries in 
1442, and remained abroad thirty years, 
during which time he made himself master 
of the art. Another account tells us that he 
was sent over in 1464 by Edward IV., to 
negociate a treaty with the Duke of Bur- 
gundy, and some time after that period re- 
turnea to this country with the invaluable 
art. While he was at Cologne, in 1471, he 
translated his ^ Recueil des Histoires de 
Troye,"* by order of Margaret, Duchess of 

* This book at the Duko of Roxburgh's famoos 
■ale was bought for L.1060. 


Prmting and PublUking at Home ami Abroad* 


Burgundy, and the following year he pub- 
lished it. Soon after this he came to Eng. 
land, bringing with him his apparatus, and 
settled at Westminster, under the patronage 
of the Abbot. Here he produced his first 
specimen of English typography, on the 
game of chess- In 1477 he published his 
edition of ^' Dieted and Sayings," a transla- 
tion from the Latin by Lord Rivers. Cax- 
ton died either in 1483'or in 1490 : we are 
inclined to think that the former date is cor- 
rect. He printed in all sixty-four difiereut 
works ; no insignificant number, consider- 
ing the comparatively short time during 
which he was employed in the business; 
though, in a literary point of view, his works 
indicate but a low state of knowledge in 

From the circumstance of a copy of the 
^' Expositio Sancti Hieronimi in Syrabolum 
Apostolorum," which is preserved in the 
Public Library at Cambridge, bearing date 
Oxford, 1468, it has been contended that 
Caxton ought not to be considered as the 
founder of the art in England. The diffi- 
culty, however, has been cleared up by Mid- 
dleton and Mr. Singer, who prove satisfac- 
torily that the numeral x (for the date is in 
Roman numbers) has been omitted either 
accidentally or designedly. There are se- 
veral instances of a similar deception having 
been practised. There ia at Haarlem a 
large quarto, the translation of ^* Bartholo* 
meus de Proprietatibus Rerum,'' printed 
anno m cccc xxxt by Jacob Bellart, and this 
is shown in confirmation of the claim laid 
by that city to have produced the first print- 
ed book ; but a certain Mr. Brayford, who 
had seen another copy with the date attach- 
ed to it, observed that in the Haarlem copy 
the letter l had1)een artfully erased. Cax- 
ton was not the only printer of London ; for 
we have the name of John Letton, who 
printed by himself two weeks, and was after- 
wards taken into partnership for two years 
by William Machlima. They only produc- 
ed, however, about eleven works. Wynkyn 
de Worde, the worthy successor of Caxton, 
printed, between the years 1403 and 1534, 
408 works. Robert Pynson was the first 
who assumed the title of *' King's Printer." 
Betv^een the years 1493 and 1531, he print- 
ed 210 works. Julian Notary, who estab- 
lished himself *' Without Temple Bar, at the 
sign of the Three Kings/' flourished be- 
tween 1499 and 1503, but his publications 
did not exceed 23 in number. Printing was 
introduced at Oxford between 1480 and 
1485, by Theodore Rood, a native of Co- 
logne, who carried on the business in part- 
nership with John Hunt, an Englishman. 
At Cambridge, John Tibuck was the first 

who printed tliere in Latin, Greek, and Eng. 
lish; his books are dated 1521 and 1522. 
The period at which printing was introduced 
into Wales has not been exactly ascertain- 
ed, but the name of John Shaewell, in 1587, 
is on record ; and the earliest specimen we 
have of the art in Scotland, is a Breviary, 
published at Edinburgh in 1510. 

The first book published in Spain was a 
curious work on the Conception of the Vir- 
gin, which appeared at Valencia in 1474, in 
the form of a poetical contest, carried on by 
thirty-six poets. In 1476, printing appeared 
at Barcelona, Saragossa, and Seville, and in 
1480, at Salamanca. Our space will not 
allow us to trace the progress of the art in 
all the civilized parts of the globe, but it 
passed rapidly fronj Europe to Goa, to the 
Philippine Isles, to Mexico, and thence, to- 
wards the latter end of the sixteenth century, 
to Lima; and about the same period the 
Vatican and Paris printers introduced the 
Syrian, Arabian, Persian, Arminian, and 
Coptic characters. 

The early specimens of printing are dis- 
tinguished by the extraordinary size of the 
characters. The Mazarin Bible is an in- 
stance of this. Generally they were of the 
rude Gothic character, mixed with those 
produced by the hand to imitate the hand- 
writing of^ those times, and were therefore 
subject to the abbreviations used in MSS. 
There was seldom a regular tide page on a 
separate leaf, but the works usually com- 
menced with the words *' Incipit liber qoi 
dicitur," dz;c. It was the custom also to 
leave blanks for the capital letters at the be- 
ginning of chapters, to be filled up by the 
illuminator. M. Leon de Laborde, in his 
work, ^^ Nouvelles Recherches sur I'Origine 
de rimprimerie," gives us some very beau- 
tiful specimens of these. Many of them are 
extremely grotesque, and our curious read- 
ers will be pleased with his specimens of the 
'< Alphabet Grotesque," which he gives in 
this work, executed by a Flemish Master for 
an edition of a Bible for the poor. The 
only points in use at first were the colon and 
full stop, but afierwards an oblique (/) an- 
swered the purpose of the comma. Another 
feature of early printing is the inequality and 
thickness of the types, and the absence of 
the printer's name and the date of the pub- 
lication. When these were inserted, they 
are generally to be found at che end, accom- 
panied by some pious ajaculation* The 
term •* Editio princepi" was given to the 
editions of classic authors which were con- 
skiered to be the first, that is to say, which 
were taken directly from the MSS., and 
again the same term was applied by biblio- 
graphers to all editions prior to 1480, It 




PrinHng^and PuUuhing at Htme and Jibroad. 


is of course very difficult to distioguish the 

genuine editions. 

Early publications are generally distin- 
guishable by the mark or vignette of the 
typographer, an invention ascribed to the 
elder Aldus. A curious alphabetical list of 
153 of these is given in the Apptndii to 
Ilt^ne's Introduction to Biography, (vol. ii. 
pages XX, XXV.) Monograms or cyphers 
were also much in vogue, these frequently 
containing the initial letters of the printer's 
name or some curious device. The old 
masters and engravers also followed this 
practice. A familiar acquaintance with 
these monograms is desirable, inasmuch as 
it is of great service in ascertaining the iden- 
tity of publications that are destitute of a 
date. The earliest specimen extant is that 
of Fust and Schosffer, annexed to their first 
Psalter. The two letters A. V., enclosed 
in a little square, designated the works of 
Antoine Verard, son of the celebrated print, 
er of that name, who flourished at Paris, 
between 1480 and 1500. Our own Gaxton, 
as well as bis successor Wynkyn de Worde, 
each bad no less than three such devices. 
The monogram used by William Faques, 
*'the king's printer," who joined in some 
patent with Robert Pynson, was very curi- 
ous ; it consisted of a whit^ triangle, based 
on the npex of a black one ; on the former 
is a text taken from the Latin vulgate ver- 
sion of the 16th chapter of Proverbs, v. 8. 
— ** Melius est modicum justo super divitias 
p|rtob3 (peccatoribus) multas ;*' and on the 
latter another from the same chapter — 
*' Melior est patiens viro forti, et qui do- 

John Day, who distinguished himself be- 
tween 1546 and 1584 by the variety and im* 
portance of his publications, had for his mot- 
to, •* Arise, for it is day," in witty refer- 
ence, as is supposed, to his own name, and 
that night of ignorance which was dispersed 
by printing and the enlightening powers of 
the Reformation. It is reported of him also, 
that when he used to awake his lazy appren* 
tices, he enforced the words of his motto by 
the sharp application of a rod. The first 
improvements which were made in the mode 
of printing, were in the disuse of abbrevia- 
tions and the numbering of the pages, which 
had been hitherto counted by leaves only. 
The exact period at which the custom of put- 
ting letters at the bottom of each sheet, to de- 
note its sequence arose, is not known. Though 
these marks nitist be f«miliar to all our read- 
Bra, every one, perhaps, may not be aware 
of their precise use. They are principally 
intended to distinguish the sheets in the 
printer's warehouse, and they also guide the 

binder as to the number of leaves into which 
the sheet should be folded. The folio copy 
of the '* Baldi Lectura super Codic. 6^." 
printed by Jo. de Colonia and Jo. Mantheu 
de Ghenetzen, anno 1474, and preserved in 
the public library at Cambridge, seems how- 
ever to indicate in some measure the date of 
the introduction of this custom. About the 
middle of the book the letters begin to ap- 
pear at the bottom of the terminating page, 
as though the klea had been conceived and 
adopted during the progress of the work. 
They were in use at Cologne as early pro- 
bably as 1475, and at Paris in the follow- 
ing year ; but Caxton does not seem to have 
applied them to his works before 1480. 

As the art advanced, eminent men took 
pride in correcting the press for such print- 
ers CU9 were most esteemed, and works rose 
in value according to the abilities of the cor- 
rector, whose name the printers frequently 
subjoined. So anxious was Robert Stephens 
(a celebrated printer of an early period) that 
his editions should be perfectly free from 
error, that he hung Up the proofs in public 
places, and rewarded those who were acute 
enough to detect an error. 

Errata were very necessary in the early 
stages of printing. A work published in 
1561, entitled ** The Anatomy of the Mass," 
is a striking instance of this. It is a thin 
volume of 172 pages, and is accompanied by 
a list of errata of 15 pages 1 The editor, a 
pious monk, tells us, in a notice prefixed to 
the errata, that he was led to this serious 
undertaking, in order to defeat the artifices 
of Satan, whom he accused of having, with 
the intent to ruin the fruit of this work, first 
of all drenched the MS. in a kennel, so as 
to render the words illegible, and then caus- 
ed the printers to commit such egregious 
errors as were never before equalled. There 
is an amusing instance of a printer's widow 
in Grermany, who, looking forward, we ima- 
gine, to laying aside her weeds, and wishing 
to lighten the matrimonial yoke, which per- 
haps she contemplated a second time, stole 
down into the printing-office during the night, 
and altered in a new edition of the Bible, 
which was printing in her house, the sentence 
of subjection to the husband pronounced upon 
Eve, in Gren. chsp. 3, v. 16*. She cleverly 
substituted na for the two first letters of the 
word herr, and thus altered the sentence 
from •* and he shall be thy lord" (herr) to 
<< and he shall be thy fool" (narr). The 
lady paid dear for her private erratum, as it 
is said that she was imprisoned for life for 
tho crime. The errors of the Bibles printed 
by Messrs. Field and Hill, about the year 
1668, were iniiuaierable. One is affirmed 


PrinHng ond PuUiiking ai Homt and Mroad. 


to have had six thousand faults, and Sterue | got Mr. Bensley, senior, to listen to his pro* 

is said to have actually counted 3600 er- 
rors in one of our London printed Bibles. 

The arbitrary value set upon books by 
collectors is well known, as also the high 
prices given for works possessing liitle 
merit beyond rarity. The scarceness of a 
work is however of course dependent in a 

on Its typographical excellence of execution, 
as, for instance, that splendid collection of 
architectural engravings published by Pira- 
nesi and others, and the travels in the East 
Indies, publii>hed by De Biyn, in twenty.five 
parts. The Duke of Devonshire gave 546/. 
for a complete copy of this, at the sale of 
Col. Stanley's library, in May, 1818. Other 
instances of works expensive in proportion 
to the number of volumes, but which have 
but a relative value, are the Acta Sanctorum 
of the Bollandists, a mass of immense re- 
search, in fifty-three folio volumes, and the 
collection of Byzantine historians, diminish, 
ed in value by the recent reprint, dec. dec. 
Printing presses at the commencement 

posals, and he commenced his operations 
with the common press. The result how. 
ever was not satisfactory, and to use hia 
own words, he found that he was only em* 
ploying a horse to do what had before been 
done by man ; and soon after that he conceived 
the idea of printing by cylinders. The first 

measure on the number of its volumes, and person to whom he exhibited his new plan 

was Mr. Walter, ofthe Times, and an agree- 
ment was entered into between them, for the 
erection of two machines for printing the 
Times newspaper. On the 2dth of Novem* 
her, 1814, the first copy printed by steam 
appeared before the public. This worked 
uncommonly well, 1800 copies being pro- 
duced per hour, but it was superseded by 
the improvements of Messrs. Applegath and 
Cowper, who took out a patent in 1818. 
The improvement upon Mr. Rdnig's machine 
was the application of two drums, placed be* 
tween the cylinders, to ensure perfect accu- 
racy in the registering or the exact corres* 
pondence of the impression on both sides of 
the sheet, and also in a superior manner of 

were extremely rude and clumsy in form, \ distributing the ink. The lower part of the 
and resembled a common screw press. ! machine consists of a table, at each end of 
Some improvements were introduced by an 1 which lie one of the two forms of types, from 
ingenious Dutch mechanic, William Jansen which the impressions on the two sides of the 
Biaen, who resided at Amsterdam, buti sheet are about to be taken. By the move* 
strange to say, the priming presses of the ment ofthe engine these forms advance and 
early period remained very stationary as to return, and are met half-way by rollers of a 
construction, until the beginning of the pre-, very soft substance, made of a mjxture of 
sent century, though the workmen of course! treacle and glue, and covered with ink* 
improved in skill by increasing practice. | These pass diagonally over the forma and 
The Apollo, the Albion, and the Stanhope give out sufiicient ink for one Impression. 

presses, are names long familiar to our ears, 
more particularly the latter, which possesses 
many advantages over the rest. We have 
not space however to enter into their respec- 
tive merits; but the superiority of the Stan- 
hope press consists in such an adjustment 

They immediately roll back agiin and are 
met by another large roller, made of cast 
iron, termed the Doctor, which replenishee 
them with ink, having itself received a suifi. 
cient quantity to perform its ofiice. Above 
the tables are two large cytiuders covered 

of two levers acting one on the other, which with flannel* The action of these cylinder! 

levers turn the descending screw, so that 
sufficient power is gained to print the whole 
of one side of a sheet at a single putf, as it 
is teclinicaliy termed, whereas in the more 
ancient presses, fvo separate efibrts of the 
machine were necessary lo produce the im- 
pression of one sheet. But even after these 
improvements a single press could only work 
off about 250 impressions or 125 sheets per 
hour, and to produce a greater number of 
copies it was necessary to have duplicate 
presses. Mr. KOnig, a German, was the 
first to whom the idea occurred of applying 
the power of steam to the printing press. 
He came to England in 1804, but did not 
meet with much encouragement from the 
leading printei'S to whom he communicated 
his plan, as they doubted its practicability. 
After repeated disappointments, he at length 

is very beautiful. A boy stationed above 
them, having on a table by him a pile of 
paper,, places on the upper cylinder a sheet, 
which is confined for the moment in its place^ 
by being slipped under two strings of tape. 
The engine being put in motion, the cylinder 
revolves, the sheet is caught rouiid and 
thrown on to the form of types, and immedi- 
ately impressed. It is then caught up by 
the other cylinder, and coming down in an 
inverted position upon the second form of 
types, is again impressed, and by the same 
power hurried into the hands of another boy, 
who stands below the machinery ready to 
odd it to his increasing pile. 

A moment of reflection will show the ex- 
tieme accuracy requisite in the performance 
of this process, in order that the sheet of 
paper, after receiving its first impressioo, 


Priming and Publishing at Home and Abroad. 


may travel round the sides of the cylinder, 
80 as to meet the second set of types at that 
.exact point, which shall cause the second 
side to coincide exactly with the hack of the 
first. The equal distribution of the ink« 
which is indispensable to rapid and uniform 
printing, is another point worthy of admira- 
tion. Thus by this beautiful process, in two 
revolutions of the engine, a sheet of paper is 
impressed with ninety-six columns of news, 
or with sixteen pages of letter-press, and the 
addition of any wood-cuts which may be in. 
troduced. A further advantage belonging 
to this machine is the perfect control under 
which it is, as it can be put into full work four 
minutes after the form of types is brought 
into the machine room ; and thus from 4000 
to 4200 copies per hour, amounting to about 
12,000 impressions, are sent forth to the 
anxious world. Our readers will remember 
the interest which was excited by the ap- 
pearance of the supplement to the Times on 
July 6lh of the present year. On that occa- 
sion there weYe two double sheets, or sixteen 
folio pages, containing ninety. six columns. 
The advertisements occupied seven pagc» 
alone, and the whole matter was sufficieht to 
form about six small volumes of an ordinary 
size, ail for the price of five ]ience ! Messrs. 
Applegath and Cowper's machines, as well 
as Napier's, whom we must not f.Tget to 
mention, are now in general use, and the 
average number of copies thrown off per 
hour by the smaller steam presses is from 
750 to 1000 sheets. 

We are indebted to William Caslon, who 
was formerly an enc^raver of fire-arms and 
of bookbinders' tools, for the perfection of 
our present tyiies. He formed a very beau- 
tiful Arabic alphabet, for an edition of the 
New Testament, in 1720, which brought 
him immediately into notice. Before the 
time of Caslon, the English printers imported 
their types from Holland. 

At the present day the business of the 
printer is often combined with that of the 
typefounder, and where the establishment 
is very extensive, as in the case of Messrs. 
Clowes, in Stamford Street, and one or two 
others, it must be a very great advantage. 

Typefounding, the most important part of 
printing^, is an interesting process, and is 
generaUy considered a separate trade ; and 
as many of our readers are probably not 
much acquainted with it, we will devote a 
few lines to its description. The matrix is 
formed in copper by the impression of an ac- 
curately carved steel punch of the letter io- 
tended to be cast. This matrix is placed at 
the bottom of a steel mould, the exact size of 
^he shank of the type. The whole is enclosed 
a a cube of wood split into two equal parts, 

which acts merely as a holder for the type- 
founder. A hole is of course left for the 
admission of the molten lead. The type- 
founder, provided with a small furnace, a 
cauldron, and various ladles proportioned to 
the quantity of metal used for the different 
sized types, holds the mould in his left hand, 
and pours the liquid metal into the hole, 
throwing the' mould upwards with a rapid 
jerk, to force the metal into the matrix. He 
then opens the mould, throws out the new- 
formed symbol, and quickly shutting it 
again, proceeds in his contribution to the 
spread of knowledge. A good workman 
can produce from 400 to 550 types per 
hour. The next process is to break off the 
superfluous length, which is done by boys, 
who are able to do as many as 3000 per 
hour. The little workmen's fingers are 
however unfortunately very oflen injured by 
this process, owing to the antimony which 
is contained in the metal. In one or two 
cases the loss of the thumb and finger has 
been the result. The sides are then rubbed 
on a ' fiat stone to take off any roughness, 
and between 2000 to 2500 per hour can 
thus be polished. They are then arranged 
in a row, the nicks f which ar^ always at 
the bottom of the type) being placed upper- 
most, and any remaining roughness is re- 
moved by a single stroke with a plane; 
sifter which they are turned up, and the fiices 
of the letters examined with a magnifying 
glass, in order to detect any that are &ulty, 
or, as they are technically termed, "fat- 
faced," "lean-faced," &c. &C. These are 
remoulded, and the rest, afler being papered 
up, are ready for use. 

It is the custom of the trade to send round 
to the printers specimens of their characters; 
and many of these books, elegantly bound, 
are exceedingly beautiful, as the impressions 
are of course from picked types. The spe- 
cimens of type from the royal printing esta- 
blishment at Paris, are preserved in the 
British Museum. They are contained in a 
folio volume, entitled "Specimens de Carac- 
tere Fran<^is et Etrangers de I'Imprimerie 
Royale," which consists of seven or eight 
pages, and on each page are nine or ten 
specimens of difierent characters in various 

There are forty or fifty difl^erent sizes of 
types, from the smallest, used in our pocket 
Bibles, to the largest, employed in hand-bills. 
Most of them have distinct names, said to have 
been deri ved from being employed in the print- 
ing of Breviaries. The smallest are denomi- 
nated diamond ; then in succession come the 
pearl, ruby, nonpareil, minion, brevier, bour- 
geois, long primer, small pica, pica and Eng- 
lish. There are also the various stops, the 


Printing and Publiihing at Home and Jlbroad. 


spaces used for dividing words, besides what | 
are termed quadrat, a kind of larger space. * 
These are all sold by the pound, according to 
their size. The diamond is about twelve shil. 
lin gs per pound,the brevier three shillings* and 
so on. In the diamond type, as many as 2800 
of the letter i go to a pound, and of the spaces 
about 5000. The fount consists of a com- • 
plete set The following printer's average | 
scale for a fount of ordinarily sized letters, 
mjay be interesting to some of our readers, as ' 
showing the great dis-proportion in the num- ' 
hers required of the dinerent letters. ' 

a 8500 

h 6400 


u 3400 

b 1600 

i 8000 

p 1700 

V 1200 

c 3000 

j 400 

q 500 

w 2000 

d 4400 

k 800 

r 6200 

X 400 

e 12,000 

1 1400 

s 8000 

y 2000 

f 250b 

m 3000 

t 9000 

z 200 

g 1700 

n 8000 

From this it will be seen how very much 
the letter e predominates. 

The carerof setting up the types belongs ex- 
clusively to the compositor, wno forms alto, 
gether a separate class from the pressman. 
Two cases, containing nearly 100 pounds 
weight of type of various kinds, are placed be- 
fore each compositor. The upper of these is 
divided into ninety-eight compartments, and 
the lower into fifty-three. The letters which 
are most frequently in use are placed in the 
lowest divisions, so that the workman may 
not lose time by having to stretch his hand 
too far. He picks out with astonishing ra- 
pidity the requisite letters, and arranc^ing 
them in the composing stick, a frame which 
he holds in his left hand, (always taking 
care to place the nicks outermost,) the line is 
gradually formed ; but it is not considered 
to be complete until it has been, in printers' 
language, "justified," that is, arranging the 
proper intervals between the words by 
spaces. This process is repeated again and 
again, until sufficient matter is composed to 
form a page of a sheet, and when the requi- 
site number of pages are composed for the 
sheet, they are then firmly fixea by quoins or 
wedges into the chase, which is a rectangular 
iron frame. It is now taken to the press, and 
a proof sheet is "pulled," and being put in- 
to the hands of the reader, is examined arid 
then delivered lo the compositor, lo rectify 
his mistakes. He is not paid for the cor- 
rection of his own errors, but for alterations 
made by the author he receives generally 
sixpence per hour. After bein:^ revised, to 
ascertain whether the mistakes have been 
corrected, the form is ready for the press- 
men to work ofl'the required number. It is 
well known that the accuracy of the proof 
depends in a great measure upon the skill 

with which the compositor distributes the 
letters of the last type pages into his cases. 
The manner of domg this is by grasping two 
or three words together, and reading them 
ofii the types are rapidly dropped into their 
respective places, without being looked at 
further. An expert compositor can di^ri- 
bute as many as 4000 leUers per hour. 

The reader, whose office is an important 
one, assisted by a little boy, pursues his sed- 
entary labours. The latter reads the author's 
copy in a loud voice, giving to all languages 
alike the English pronunciation, until coming 
to an error, he is stopped by the reader, (in 
this instance rather misnamed,) and then 
suddenly the little machine is turned on 

The paper room of a printing establish- 
ment is a curious sight To prepare a sheet 
for receiving a clear and sharp impression of 
the types, it undergoes the wetting process. 
This is done in a room appropriated to the 
operation, containing three or four large 
troughs filled with water, where a number 
of men, who might vie with the Brighton 
bathing women, are constantly employed in 
dipping the sheets, which are then removed 
to a screw press, and subjected, during ten or 
twelve hours, to a heavy pressure, in order 
that the moisture may be equally distributed 
through the paper. A man can dip from 
150 to 200 reams a day, and the paper will 
remain sufficiently damp for ten days or a 

When the sheets are printed, they are 
placed in the drying room, at the temperature 
of about 95<) Fahrenheit, and being hung 
across wooden bars, are sufiered to remain 
about twelve hours to dry both the paper and 
the ink. 

When dry and pressed, they are placed in 
heaps according to their respective letters, 
and a troop oflittle boys termed "gatherers,'* 
trotting past them, take a single sheet from 
each pile, which they deliver to the "collator" 
who glances at the printed signature of each 
sheet, to see that they follow in regular suc- 
cession ; they are then folded, ancLare ready 
for delivery to the bookbinder. Tne quantity 
of paper consumed by a large printing estab- 
lishment is enormous. Upon an average 
about 5600 reams are printed per mcnth ; and 
during the year from about 10,000 to 
I2,000lbs. weight of ink are consumed. 

Stereotype printing was first practised to- 
wards the end of the sixteenth century, by 
J. Vander Mey, father of the printer of the 
same name. H^» resided at Ley den, and with 
the assistance of the Rev. J. Muller, pastor 
of the German Reformed Church in that 
city, made his trial in stereotyping, as bis first 
essay, a Bible of a quarto edition. Th<^ 


and Publishing at Hwm and Abroad. 


i« DO notice of it ia thip ooontrv earlier than 
the year 1725. William Geo, a goldamith 
ax Edinbiirgh, wae the first who tried it 
He entered into partnership with William 
Fenner, a Loudon stationer, and James James 
an architect In 1730 the University of 
Cambridge gave th^m a privilege for print- 
ing Bibles and Prayer Sooks. They had 
not been employed however very long in the 
business, when some disagreements occurred, 
and one of the partners bribed the workmen 
to injure the works. A royal order was in 
consequence issued to prohibit the operations 
of the establishment, on account oi the nu- 
merous errors exhibited by the copies which 
issued from it Qed, however, m no wise 
discouraged, by the aid of a loan set up, 
with his son's assistance, in business for 
himself, and in 1742 pubbshed at Newcastle 
an edition of Sconfars " Treatise on the Life 
of Qod in the Soul of Man " 

The formation of stereotype plates is a 
simple process. The form of types being 
carefully cleaned from any particles of ink, 
is oiled over with a brush, and being placed 
in a little frame, the plaster of Paris used for 
making the mould, is first dabbed over with 
a cloth to secure perfect sharpness in the 
matrix, and then more being poured on, it is 
allowed to become hard, and bein? removed 
from the types, is baked in a small oven an 
hour and a half or two hours. The mould 
is next put into a kind of frame or box. Afier 
being immersed for a few minutes in a mass 
of molten metal, it is taken out and allowed 
to cool ; afler which the plaster of Paris is 
knocked ofi* with wooden mallets, and thus 
the stereotype plate is produced, the multipli- 
er of knowledge, capable of producing a mil- 
lion of beautiful copies. Previous to the 
plates being used, they are carefully examin- 
ed by the " pickers,'* as they are termed, who 
remove any superfluous metal adhering to 
them. Messrs. Clowes are said to possess 
the largest number of stereotype plates, their 
stock weighing above 1 500 tons, which are 
deposited in vaults under the premises — a 
stupendous collection of dormant knowledge I 

The eafty printers were their own book- 
sellers, and Peter SchoBfier appears to be the 
first person who sold his own editions. To- 
wards the 16th century the two trades began 
to l)e disunited; as the printer found it diffi- 
cuh to dispose of his own books, and we find 
there is a petition extant, addressed in 1472, 
by Sweynheim and Pannartz to Sixtus IV. 
stating the poverty they were reduced to, 
owing to tneir having on hand so many 
copies of various works. 

The prices of books of course fell consid- 
erably after the invention of printing, and 
the University of Paris instituted a tariff fix- 

ing Che respective prices of books. Larn 
sums however were still paid for the early 
printed books. Lambricet mentions that the 
Bishop of Angers gave forty gold crowns for 
the Mentz Bible, published in 1462» and that 
an English gentleman paid eighteen gold 
florins for a missal, concluding his observa- 
tions with a remark which is equally appli- 
cable to our own times, and the truth of 
which we feel to the detriment of our purses 
in all our continental tours — "Mais on a 
toujours fait payer plus cher aux Anglais 
qu'aux autres nations." 

It would be interesting to trace accurately 
the history of the censorship of the press, 
with all its modifications and encroachments 
as they gradually arose in the various coun- 

This custom was observed at a period fiur 
anterior to the epoch of the invention of print- 
ing, for, throughout the history of literature, 
we find instances of persons to whom devolv- 
ed the charge of examining the works of 
various authors. The different universities 
of Europe, more particularly exercised this 
authority, and the booksellers appointed by 
them were compelled to take an oath that 
they would observe the various statutes 
and regulations, and no one could sell any 
works without this permission. They were 
also obliged to put up in their shop, a cata- 
logue of the prices of their books, and such as 
were deemed unfit for perusal were burnt by 
order of the tmiversity. Savigny tells us that 
the Stationarii of Bologna were compelled 
by oath to keep by them i 1 7 copies of certain 
books, for the hire of which there was a 
fixed price. 

At first Privileffes, as they were called, 
were granted to the printer for a period of 
fiye or seven years, in order to secure to him 
some return for his labours. The first in- 
stance on record is one granted by the Senate 
of Venice to John of Spire, in 1469, for five 
years, for an edition of Cicero's Epistles, the 
first book printed in that city. There are a 
few other instances of this, and it was the 
custom to enter the privilege at the end of 
the work. 

But the interference of the censor soon 
ceased to be exerted only for the protection 
of the author and printer. These, finding 
that by their art they were enabled to address 
thousands of beings, promulgated opinions 
deemed dangerous by the governments of 
Europe, and they began to be circulated 
amongst various nations through the medium 
of the press, and the Church of Rome thun- 
dered forth, though in vain, her Bulls for the 
suppression of the doctrines propagated by 
the champions of the Reformation. 

Beckmann gives us the first instance of 


' PrtfOing and Pndtukin^ at Udtde and Jibrtfad. 


the appointment of a censor, in a mandate 
issued by Bertfaold, Archbishop of Mentz, 
in I486:— 

" Notwithstanding/' he begins, ** the facility given 
to the aoqointion of seience by the divine art ofprint- 
mgi it has been found that some abnae thia inven- 
tion and convert that which was designed for the in- 
struction of mankind to their injury. For books on 
the duties and doctrines of relieion are translated from 
Latin into German, and eircuTated among die people 
to the disgrace of religion itself, and some have even 
had the ruhness to niake faulty versions of the Can- 
ons of the Church into the vulvar tongue, which 
belong to the science so difficult, that it is enough to 
occupy the life of the wisest man. Can such men 
assert that our German bnffuage is capable of ezpres- 
nn^ what great authors have written in Greek and 
Latin on the high mysteries of the Christian faith, and 
on general science? Certainly it is not; and hence 
they either invent new words, or use old ones in 
erroneous senses, a thing especially dangerous in 
sacred Scripture. For who will admit that men 
widiout learning, or women into whose hands these 
translations may fsJI, can find the true sense of the 
gospels or of the epistles of St. Paul ? Much less 
can they enter on questions which, even among 
Catholic writers, are open to subtle discussion. But 
■ince this art was first discovered in this city of Mentz, 
and we may truly sajr by divine aid, and is to be 
maintained by us m all its honour, we strictly forbid all 
peisons to translate, or circulate when translated, any 
books upon any subject whatever, from the Greek, 
Latin, or any other tongue, into German, until be- 
fore printing, and again before their sale, such trans- 
lations shall be approved by four Doctors herein 
named, under penalty of excommunication, and of 
forfeiture of the books, and of one hundred golden 
floiins to the use of our exchequer." 

This document paints strongly the anxiety 
of the Romanist clergy to curb the freedom 
of the press. That boay of literary despots 
at Rome, known as " the Congregation of 
the Index," set their ban upon every work 
adverse to their own tenets, and it is amusing 
to think of the surprise that must have been 
felt by many of the minor literary inquisitors 
of the other cities in Europe, when they found 
many even of their own works put down in 
the Roman Index, — that literary purge Mil- 
ton so forcibly describes as raking "through 
the entrails of many an old good author with 
a violation worse than any could be offered 
to his tomb." 

Poor Richard Sinion iVas a victim to this, 
for being compelled to insert in one of his 
works the qualifying opiuiona of the censor 
of Sorbonne, he inclosed the alterations be* 
tween brackets, so that the public might 
clearly distinguish between the author and 
the censor. But alas! his care vvas futile ; 
for neglecting to mention his plan to the 
printer, the numerous copies appeared with- 
out the essential marks, and our readers may 
imagine the despair of the autlior, when he 
found that these alterations flowed into the 
original text, and overturned all the peculiar 
opinions he sought to maintain. 

There were but few disputes touching 
copyright before the reign of Charles II., 
although all are familiar with the despotism 
displayed during the reigns of Henry VIII. 
nnd Mary in the Kuppression e(nd destruction 
*of suspected works. There is an amusing 
story in Burnet, and also Jortin's Life of 
Erasmus, of Tonstall, Bishop of London, 
who in Henry VIlI.'s time was remarkable 
for his preference for committing books ra- 
j ther than authors to the flames. Tindal had 
'just printed a translation of the New Testa- 
ment, and the worthy bishop conceived that 
he could not better aid his cause, than by 
buying up all the editions, and making a 
' public bonfire of them. He accordingly em- 
ployed an English merchant named Pack- 
ington, at Antwerp, then the refuge of the 
Tindalists in 1529, to procure all the copies 
he could find in that city. The merchant, 
who was a secret follower of Tindal, com- 
municated to him the bishop's design. To 
his surprise, however, Tindal gladly gave 
up to him all his copies, for he was anxious 
to print a new and improved edition, which 
he could not set about until the remaining 
copies of the original one should be dispos- 
ed of. The bishop made his bonfire in 
Cheapside, but the result was not fo satis- 
factory to him as he had anticipated, for the 
populace not only cried out that this was a 
" burning of the word of God," but evinced 
so much curiosity to rea4 the condemned 
book, that Tindal's second edition met with 
a rapid sale. Subsequently when one of 
his party, who was sent to London to sell 
some copies, was arrec^ted, on the Lord 
Chancellor's assurance that no harm should 
happen to him if he would reveal the name 
of the person who had so much encouraged 
the sale, he readily accepted the pledge, and 
announced that it was no less a person than 
Tonstall, Lord Bishop of London, who by 
buying up the first edition, had occasioned 
the rapid sale of the second. 

Under the reign of Charles L a regular 
establishment was formed for the licensing 
of books. In a letter from J. Mead to Sir 
M. Sluteville, July 10th, 1628, it is men- 
tioned that Charles printed his speeches on 
his dissolution of parliament, and in conse- 
quence of the dissatisfaction it occasioned, 
some one printed the last speech of Queen 
Elizabeth as a companion piece. This was 
presented to the king by his chief printer, 
with a complaint that his privileges had been 
invaded, as he asserted that it was his own 
copyright. He got no other reply however 
from the somewhat displeased monarch, than 
'* You printers print anything ;" and some 
gentlemen of the bedchamber who were 
present, prayed the printer to bring more ' 


PrinUng and Pubiighing ai Home and Abroad. 


these rarities to the king, ** because they 
might do him good." 

It is well known how many noble and 
eloquent compositions (lave suffered from 
the royal licensers. Authors were however 
at lost relieved from the grievous oppressions 
of the Star Chamber, and we find an act 
was passed in the eighth year of Anne's 
reign, securing to them the exclusive right 
of printing their books, for fourteen years 
certain, and provided the author should still 
be living at the end of that term, an additi- 
onal fourteen years was to be granted to him. 
By the act just uientioned, authors were im- 
peratively to send one copy of their works 
to the following libraries, viz. to the Royal 
Library, now the British Museum ; to the 
two English, the four Scotch universities ; 
Sioa College, London ; and the Faculty of 

When this act was first passed, it referred 
only to Great Britain, but in 1811 Ireland 
partook of its benefits, and an additional 
clause was made that the penalty incurred by 
piracy, exclusive of forfeiture, was to be in- 
creased from one penny to three pence, and 
that two more copies were to be entered at 
Stationers' Hall, to be delivered to Trinity 
College, Dublin, and King's Inn, in the same 
city. This continued in force until the ex- 
isting law of copyright was passed in 1814, 
and we need not here enter into the change 
effected by this bill. Its prominent features 
are, that the duration of all copyrights shall 
extend to the definite term of twenty-eight 
years, whether the author should live so long 
or not ; with the further provision, that if 
after that term he should still be living, the 
benefit of his literary labours shall be con- 
tinued to him. In the event of his death, 
however, before the expiration of twenty- 
eight years, his representative shall have 
the sole advantage of the printing and pub* 
lishing during the remainder of the term. 

Our limits will not allow us to enter even 
slightly upon the merits of Mr. Sergeant 
Taifourd's bill. Much that is plausible 
may and has been said on both sides ; but 
such a subject should be discussed thorough- 
ly in all its bearings (which the length of 
this article precludes), or should be left at 
rest. Such of our readers, (if there be any), 
as may still be unacquainted with the pro- 
posed plan, and the objections to it, may 
easily obtain information from the bill itself, 
and by a clever letter addressed by Mr. 
Tegg to the " Times," February 20th, 1839. 

The American authors participate in the 
benefit of the law of copyright in England. 
But for this, the delightful productions of 
Washington Irving, Cooper, and others, 
would but ill repay them, for as English 

works of fiction can be republished in Ame« 
rica free of the expense of copyright, the 
booksellers can afford to sell them at a dol- 
lar and a half, where the American work 
costs two. In consequence of the piracy so 
detrimental to the profits of English authors, 
a petition was sent by them to Congress in 
1837, praying for some law to protect their 
rights. The bill was brought in upon the 
report of the select committee of which Mu 
Clay was the chairman, but was lost, as Capt. 
Marryat* relates, through the influence of 
the Southerners, who were resolved not to 
do anything that might enable Miss Marti- 
neau to propagate, in those States, with 
greater facility, her abolition doctrines. 
One of the honourable members of Congress 
made a characteristic reply to Capt. Mar- 
ryat, when asked by that gentleman what 
was his opinion upon the suQect. 

*^ Well now, yoa see, Captain, what you ask of 
us is, to let you have your copyright in this conn* 
try, as you allow our authors their copyright in 
your*8 ; and I suppose you mean to say that if we 
do not, that our authors shall have no copyright in 
your country. We*U allow that ; but still I consider 
you ask too much, as the balance is on our side most 
considerably. Your authors are very numerous, 
our*8 are not. It is very true that you can steal our 
copyrights as well as we can your*s; but if you steal 
ten, we steal a hundred. Don't you perceive that 
you ask us to give up the advantage." 

Another evil resulting from the present 
system is the well-known fact, that the Ame- 
rican booksellers in republishing any Eng- 
lish work of standard authority, Especially 
theological works, are very apt to [alter the 
text, and this means has been resorted to for 
the dissemination of Unitarian and Socinian 

The present duty paid by America upon 
books in boards is twenty-six cents per pound, 
and thirty cents upon bound books. Books, 
however, published prior to 1775, are admit- 
ted upon a reduced duty of five cents. 

The great expenses attending the publi- 
cation of English works is a prominent fea- 
ture in English literature. This results 
from the enormous duties on paper and ad- 
vertisements. The duty on a work of which 
the average number of 760 copies is print- 
ed amounts to about one-seventh of the 
whole cost, and on 1000 copies it exceeds 
the entire remuneration of the author ; the 
publisher allows from 20 to 25 per cent, to 
retail dealers on quartos, and from 25 to 30 
per cent, on octavos, and those of an infe- 
rior size ; the credit they give varies from 
seven to twelve months. It is estimated that 
between 1500 and 2000 works are produced 
annually in Great Britain, which at the - 
average impression of 750 copies amounts 

* Diary in America, Part II. 


and Pi^i$hiitg«m vnd JUbnoik 


to between 1,125>000 and 1,500,000 vol- 

Throughout Germany the freedom of the 
pres^ is more or less curtailed, according 
to the political org^anization of the different 
governments. Austria, Bavaria, and Prus- 
sia are the most vigorous in their surveil- 
lance, while Wurtemberg, Baden, Saxony, 
and the free towns, allow greater freedom. 
In all the states of Germany the censorship 
is generally committed to a certain number 
of scholars belonging to the Universities. 
All books and periodicals above twenty pa- 
ges roust pass through the bands of the 
censors before they can be published ; the 
censor is generally remunerated by the au- 
thor or publisher, but in some towns he is 
paid by the government. The printer is 
bound to send the proof sheets to the censor, 
that he may be satisfied that his corrections 
have been ob^^crved ; the latter then grants 
a certificate, and the work can be legally 

Literary property in Germany is protect- 
ed by law. In 1783 the Diet passed an act 
securing the possession of a work to the au- 
thor, for the space of ten years after publi- 
cation, with liberty of extension to twenty 
years under certain circumstances. In 1838 
a new law respecting literary property was 
issued in Prussia, which ensures to the author 
the full benefit of his labours during his natu- 
ral life, and in the event of his death secures 
the same privileges to his representative for 
the space of t hi rty years. Anonymous authors 
are protected by a term of fifteen years only. 

Many of the other states have followed 
the example of Prussia, but Austria pursues 
her own policy. 

The literary law also of the Continent de- 
mands, as in England, that a certain num. 
ber of copies of every work shall be lodged 
in the various libraries of the different states 
io which they are published. The total con- 
tribution however required from the author 
is small in comparison to that in England. 
Only one copy is required by Prussia, Saxony, 
and Bavaria ; Austria demands two ; France 
the same number and the Netherlands three. 

It would be unnecessary to advert to the 
jealous restrictions observed in Germany, 
by which no newspapers or journals can be 
established without especial permission. The 
number published in Austria in 1837 amount- 
ed to seventy, twenty of which were printed 
at Vienna. A curious instance is given in 
Mr. George Chalmer's *< J«ife of Ruddiman'' 
of the despotism displayed by the Venetian 
government at one period with regard to 
the publication of newspapers ;-— 

^ A jealous govsmmeot did not allow a printed 
nowspaper ; aiA tho V^potiaii Gasetto oontiniwd 
TOI,. XXVI, 9 

long after the invention of printing to our own 
da3's, to bo distributed in manuacriptJ* 

In the Magliabechian library at Florence, 
there are thirty MS. volumes of these Vene- 
tian Gazettes. We need not remind our read- 
er that we are indebted to Burleigh for the 
earliest newspaper published in this country. 

The number of works published in Ger- 
many has much increased of late. Almost, 
every bookseller is his own publisher, and 
book- writing has grown into a sort of mania 
in that country, every one being ambitious 
of becoming an author. 

As many of our readers are probably well 
acquainted with the book trade in that coun- 
try, especially as connected with the Leipsic 
and Frankfort fairs, we will confine our* 
selves to a very few observations. Mr. 
Henry Mininger, in an able poper on the 
statistical account of the German book 
trade, tells ixs that the earliest information 
which we have of the Leipsic fairs, is in the 
year 1545, at which period the celebrated 
booksellers Steiger and Boskoff, of Nureoh 
berg, attended them, and that in 1560 the 
number of new works brought there amounts 
ed to 362, and in 1616 this number was 
doubled. The first printed catalogue that 
we have of books in Grermany appeared in 
1561, published by Greorge Wilier of Augs- 
burg. This was followed by the Leipsic 
one printed in 1598. The nomber of sellers 
of books, prints and music in Germany, in 
connection with that city, in 1778, amounted 
to 282 ; in 1822, to 556 i in 1831, to 830, 
and during the last year (1839), the num. 
hers have augmented to 1381. The book- 
sellers, therefore, have increased 66 per cent 
since 1831, and 144 per cent, since 1822. 

The German publisher sends his stock to 
the keepers of the various assortmeqta of 
books on commission for a certain time, 
and when the market is closed, he pays the 
regulated sum for those sold, and takes back 
the remainder. Every publisher almost in 
Germany has an agent at the Leipsic fairs. 
M. Bisset Hawkins, in his little work t>D 
Germany, published by Jugel at Frankfort, 
mentions, as another proof of the increaiie of 
the book trade in that country, that Ijeipsiq 
itself contained in 1722 only 19 bookselling 
establishments, and 13 printing offices ; in 
1936 there were 1 16 of the former and 23 
of the latter, which have considerably in- 
creased since that time. 

Since the days of Napoleon the activity of 
the French press has also greatly augment 
ed. The number of priniedsbeets, ezclumti 
of newspapers, amounted in 1816 to66,852rt 
883, and in ten years there wa« an increase 
of 16,158,600. . At present that number w 
about doubled. The French booksellers 


Printing and Publishing at Hom$ and Abroad. 


are brevet^s, that is, regularly Hceosedv and 
bound to observe certain rules. French 
dealers generally regulate their discount by 
the suhject, and not by the size of the vol- 
ume, as we do in Bnirland. For instance, 
on history and general literature, they allow 
25 per cent. ; on mothemalics and other 
scientific works, from 10 to 15 per cent. ; 
but on works of fiction as much as 50 or 60 
per cent. The piracy practised by book- 
sellers in France and Belgium is well 
known. Baudry's and Galignani's cata- 
logues show the immense number of English 
works which are reprinted in Paris for aU 
most nothing, the bookseller paying merely 
for the paper and printing. On the other 
band, Belgium gluts herself upon the brain 
of the French author, and the result of many 
a weary hour and aching brow is immedi- 
ately caught up by the Brussels bookseller, 
who thus robs the poor author of his just 
profits. Switzerland is more particularly 
famous for the immense number of publica- 
tions reprinted there; A sincte bookseller, 
in the first six months of 1837, reprinted 
318,615 French volumes. It would be a 
ttseless and a weary task /or our readers, 
were we to enter with any minuteness into 
the subject of the importation of Foreign 
works into the United Kingdom. Theave. 
rage duty paid to government for the impor- 
tation of foreign works is 5/. per cwt. ; and, 
on looking at the returns for the last ten \ 
years, we find that there has been no mote- ; 
ml increase or decrease during that period. | 
According to the list laid before the House i 
of Commons, we find that the total for the i 
last nine years in England amounts toj 
77,005/., giving an average per year of 
8,556/. ; in Scotland, 733/., and an average 
of 81/., and in Ireland, of 2041/., and an 
average of 249/. ; and the net produce of 
the last ten years for the United Kingdom 
amounts to 91,590/., making an average of 
9159/. per year. 

Before we conclude this hasty sketch of 
the progress of printing, we cannot refrain 
from slightly alluding to one branch of it, 
which though but little thought of by the j 
generality, and even its existence is perhaps j 
wholly unknown to some of our readers, yet | 
10 one sense probably, is productive of good | 
that surpasses all the other blessings that 
are so justly attributed to the art in general, 
by cheering a portion of mankind, who, but 
for this, roust have continued to sit in dark- 
nessy and condemned to the loneliness of 
their own thoughts — we allude to the print- 
ing for the blind. Those who from a long 
illness, or any other cause, have been de- 
barred the pleasure of reading, and have 
been dependent on others for a short hour 

of amusement, will remember the delight 
they experienced when they were pcrmitied 
once again to read to themselves, and can 
therefore appreciate (ar more the vivid en- 
joyment of the blind, now enabled to while 
away the long hours in becoming acquainted 
with the ideas and sentiments, not only of 
those who have the blessing of light, but 
with those also of their companions who are 
suffering from the same misfortune; great 
must this alleviation be to the blind from 
birth, but still more so to those who have 
later in life been deprived of the light of 
heaven, which they remember to have en- 
joyed in the happy days of early youth. To 
them this new power must be as a returning 

It is a merciful dispensation that with 
persons deprived of one of the senses, those 
which are left become doubly sensible, and 
this fact is especially observable in the 
blind, whose sense of touch and hearing are 
almost proverbially acute. Such of our 
readers as have associated with blind people 
cannot fail to have remarked the differeiice 
between those blind from birth, and those 
who have become so in their youth, or later 
in life, which latter mostly retain a feeling 
of regret for the past. How often must a 
pang be unknowingly inflicted upon these 
in every casual conversation, be it of no 
more import than the mere pahsing remaik 
upon the beauty of a flower. For they 
naturally recur to the time when they could 
gather flowers in the bright sunshine, and 
perhaps remember with painful precision, 
the form and colour of the last they looked 
upon. We ourselves have met with an 
instance of this in a lady who had been 
deprived of her sight for many years, and 
at the time when she was reaping the bene- 
fit of the studies of her early youth. We 
were speaking in her presence of some very 
fine illustrations of a German poem, when 
joining in the conversation, she named some 
beautiful peculiarities belonging to them, 
thus showing how vividly her mind had 
retained the last impressions of sight. 

The blind are indeed deeply indebted to 
theeflbrts of those benevolent and intelligent 
persons who have contributed to lessen their 
deprivations by this ingenuity. It is well 
known that the first idea of printing letters 
that should be tangible, suggested itself to 
the Abb6 Hauy, the superintendent of the 
Institution for the blind at Paris, from his 
observing a proof sheet which happened to 
have been printed only on one side, and 
consequently the letters appeared at the back 
in considerable relief. Since then many 
improvemeots have been made in thp sys. 
teiti, and many books are now printed ander 


Priniing and PuUiihing at Himt and Abroad. 


the direction of Dr. Piguer. By the bene* 
Yoleot exertions of Dr. Gall mucb has been 
eStjctcd ; after seven years of patient inves- 
tigation he produced, in October, 1834, the 
Gospel of St. John, in such a type as ren- 
ders the art of reading an easy task to the 
blind. A short description of this may not 
be unacceptable to our readers. The letters 
are cast in relief, the facility with which 
they can be distinguished depending on the 
perfection of their form rather than their 
size. The blind themselves in the various 
Institutions of Great Britain, America and 
France, have been employed in printing 
some of their own books. The letters are 
placed in two cases divided as usual into 
small squares. In teaching the blind child- 
ren to distinguish the letters, it is not usual 
to commence with the first letters of the 
alphabet, as is the case with those who have 
their sight, but the difference bet*veen a full 
stop and a comma is first taught, then tlie 
semicolon, and from that they are led on to 
the o, and the more simple letters, before 
they are allowed to attempt the complicated 
forms. They are next taught the formation 
of words ancf sentences, i he paper used 
fur this kind of printing is stouter than ordi. 
nary paper, and is steeped in water for some 
days to prevent the edges of the embossed 
letters from tearing it, to avoid which, the 
pressure is also more gradual than in the 
common printing press. Dr. Gall conceived 
that angular letters would be more easily 
distinguished than those of the ordinary 
form, and the result proved the correctness 
of his idea, as these were admirable, and 
afe considered the m'let simple and tangible. 
Dr. Gall yet further improved upon his first 
mode by composing the letters of a succes- 
sion of points, which he termed fretted^ so 
that the paper is almost perforated by them. 
Books printed in this manner are also exe- 
cuied with greater ease and quickness than 
even in common printing, and the pages can 
be impressed upon both sides. It was a 
question at first whether it would not be 
better to employ only capital letters, but this 
plan was set aside on account of the too 
great uniformity that would have resulted, 
and books intended for the blind ore printed 
in iho types usually employed for pulpit 
Bibles, as well as in the fretted form. 

The blind pupil is taught to feel with the 
first and second fingers of his right hand, 
whilst he keeps the line he is upon with the 
forefinger of the left hand ; the sense of 
touch is ordinarily so sensitive, in blind 
persons that they generally are able to read 
rapidly after a very few lesson 99 even when 
their hand is covered with a thick glove. 

By a similar proceaa Iho blind are enabled 

to correspond with each other by the aid of 
stamps, in which the letters are set with 
points, which they press into the paper fixed 
in a frame, and they can thus send letters, 
of which the direction can be read equally 
well by the postman as by themselves. 

They form also a very elficient manifold 
writer, for they can readily pierce through 
three or more sheets of paper at the same 
time, and we know of an instance of a blind 
girl who by this means used to send copies 
to her friends of her little compositions both 
in poetry and music ; for this latter can be 
written m the same manner, only with dif. 
ferent characters. The whole apparatus 
giving this valuable power costs only fideen 

Wo refer our readers to a work by Dr. 
Guill6 of Paris, printed by the blind them* 
selves at the lostituiion already alluded to, 
for many interesting facts respecting the 
pl<ins pursued there for their education. 
He relates that at the Convent of the Celes- 
tines the school for the deaf and dumb was 
united with that of the blind, and that the 
inmates of each mutually endeavoured to 
hold a communication with each other. The 
blind having learnt that the deaf and dumb 
could converse together in the dark by 
writing on each other's backs, engaged their 
friends to instruct them in this process. 
The deaf and dumb found it however no 
easy task to practise their mode of conver- 
sation during the day time, and tried to 
teach their blind friends to wi itc characters 
in the air. but not succeeding, and still de* 
termined not to be bafiied, they taught them 
the manual alphabet as well, as their own 
particular signs. We give M. Guill6's own 
description of their curious oommunication 
with each other : 

'*When the blind person bad to epeak tofbo 
deaf and dumb, he made the representative sii^ns 
of his ideas, and iheaa signf, more or Ic«8 exactly 
made, transmitted to the deaf and dumb the idea 
of the blind. Wlien ilie deaf and dumb in hiatnm 
wished to make himself understood, ho did it in 
two ways ; he stood with his arm stretched out and 
motionless before the blind person, who took hold 
of him a little above the wrists, and without sqnceZ' 
ing them, followed all the motions they made : or 
if it happened that the signs were not underetood, 
the blind man put himself in the place of the deaf 
and dumb, whu thtn took hold of his arms in the 
same maimer, and moving them about as he would 
have done his own liefore a pevmn who could see, 
he filled up the deficiencien of the first operation, 
and thus completed the series of ideas which he 
wJFhed to communicate to his companion** ***** 
** It was an extraordinary sight to behold a panto. 
mime acted in the most profound silence by 150 
children, anxious to nnderstaod each other, and 
not always succeeding. Tired out at last with 
long and fruitless attempts and often ending, 
Uie the builders of Babel, by separating without 
boing aUo to andSTrtsntl each other, but at tfa 


CkintH Literittur$. 


•MM tiiiM not' without htTio^ g:iT6ii lecipfoeali 
proofii of bad homoor, bj strikiiig u the deiu do, 
or Mreamiag u do the blind.** 

The British and Foreign Bible Society 
and Sunday School Union have given their 
valuable assistance in augmenting the works 
of the blind. The former has already pub- 
lished the four Qospels and some of the 
books of the Old Testament, varying in 
price from three shillings to ten shillings 
each ; and the latter, besides portions of the 
Scriptures, have printed ^* The First Class 
Book/' for teaching the blind to read, toge- 
ther with some other little works facilitating 
their education, and all at a price that ren- 
ders them attainable by the poor. In addi- 
tion to these is the ** Magazine for the 
Blind,'' published by Simpkin & Marshall, 
which coats only sixpence. In the last 
number (No. 13, August, vol. 2) there is 
the autobiography of a blind man (one of 
the main objects of its institution being the 
encouragement for these individuals them- 
selves to contribute to it), and the whole 
publication seems judiciously conducted. 

Perhaps no better mode could be selected 
to show the stupendous power of printing 
than giving a statement of the labours of 
the British and Foreign Bible Society. In 
Great Britain 2572 assistant and associated 
societies are dependent on this institutioD* 

and S51 in 'the colonies and other British 
settlements. From the report of the present 
year, the 86th since its establishment, it ap. 
pears that the Bible and Testament have 
been translated into 136 different langu«iges, 
viz. European languages 47, Asiatic Rua* 
sian 6, Caucasian dialects 5, Semitic 3, Per- 
sian 3, Chinese 8, throughout India &nd 
Ceylon 88, Polynesian 9, African 9, and 
American 8 ; these are exclusive of eighteen 
others in progress, but not yet completed. 

The number of Bibles issued by the So- 
ciety from March 7th, 1804, to March Slst 
of the present year (1840) has been 
4,771,004, besides 7,551,467 Testaments, 
in all 12,822,471, making an average in 
thirty-five* years of about 352,070 per year. 
Thus, as we have already remarked, does 
the Book of Truth beam upon many nations 
of the earth through this mighty invention. 

No longer need we fear that the treasures 
of literature should be destroyed by a mon- 
arch's caprice, or that a sect of hypocrites 
can sweep into the flames the learning of 
former ages. The compositions of the 
great and good are now preserved for the 
instruction and amusement of succeeding 
oges, and the mind may wing its way through 
the literary world, gathering knowledge, and 
advancing in learning and honour. 

Abt. VL 

Wang KeaouLwan Pih Men Chang Hath or the lasting Resentnunt of Miss Keaou 
Lwan Wang ; a Chinese TaJe^ founded on fact. — Translated from the Original by 
Robert Thorn, Esquire, Resident at Canton.— Canton. — 1839. — Printed at the Canton 
Press Office. 

A SPECTMBN of Chinese literature, which 
throws any light upon the singular people 
with whom we are about to engage in war- 
fare, will be viewed at the present period 
with peculiar interest; and will be refreshing 
after the dictatorial edicts of the mighty Lin, 
and his anathemas against the ** filthy 
liquid." There are many difiiculties to con- 
food against in placing before the public any 
portion of the literary productions of the 
Chinese, since they invariably throw all 
kinds of impediments in the way of any 
European, who attempts to attain an insight 
into their literature. 

Poor Mon. P. Bourgeois, one of the mis- 
sionaries, during hia residence at Pekin, 

speaks most feelingly of his difficulties in 
understanding and speaking the language, 
especially in the first di.^'course he attempted 
to preach to a native congregation. '* God 
knows," says he, ** how much this first ser- 
mon cost me I I can assure you this lan- 
guage resembles no other. The same word 
has never but one termination." He found 
great difficulty in understanding the word 
cAotf, which, when he first heard it, signified 
a book, but the next time it was employed in 
the significotion of tree; and afterwards he 

* Between 1804 and 1805 there was no issue, on 
account of the Universities not having completed 
their stMsotyped oditbiis. 


CAtik<M LHareiun. 


was as much puzzled as the Frenctiman was 
in the nuraerous meanings of our word box^ 
when he was assured that it expressed greai 
heals, the loss of a wager^ Aurora^ &c. dec. 
'^From ao aspirated tone," says he, <*you 
must pass immediately into an even one \ 
from a whistling note to an inward one ; 
sometimes your voice must proceed from 
the palate, sometimes it must be guttural, 
and almost always nasal." The poor man, 
in his zeal, recited his sermon about fifty 
times to his native servant, and although he 
coDtinually corrected him, when it came to 
the trying nQoment, *^out of tea parts of the 
sermon^' (as the Chinese express themselves), 
they did not understand more than three. 
It is curious to observe how great a mass 
of literature has been accumulated by the 
Chinese, notwithstandit^g that it has ever 
been a principle with them to exclude the 
learning of all other nations, and to confine 
the interchange of their ideas wholly within 
their own limits. This would seem to pro. 
ceed more from their inflexible pride and 
conceit, than from any dislike of adding to 
their stock of literature, as many of our 
rvaders will remember that education and 
the advancement o^ learning is looked upon 
as a most essential point in the policy of the 
government. The particular form of prinU 
ing practised in China, viz. that of stereo- 
typingi and the extreme chespness of the 
copies of the works, both in paper und print- 
ingy tend to promote the circulation of every 
kind of literature. Their drama, poetry, 
.and especially their romances or novels, 
give Ud a far greater insight into the manners 
and feelings of this singular nation, than any 
other portion of their literature. Their 

f^nys form a prominent part of their literary 
abours. In the collection of Chinese works 
belonging to the East India Company, there 
are as many as two hundred volumes, and 
a single work in forty volumes, containing 
just one hundred theatrical pieces. 

The most famous of their works of fiction 
is entitled Tsaetsze, or *• Works of Genius ;" 
and Mr. Davis remarks thst, **as the writ- 
ers address themselves solely to their own 
countrymen, they need not be suspected of 
the spirit of misrepresentation, prejudice and 
exaggeration, with which the Chinese are 
known to speak of themselves to strangers." 
The same author relates an amusing instance 
of this, which occurred at Canton ; a native 
being toM that the King of England rode in 
a carriage drawn by eight horses; being de- 
termined to keep up the honour of his coun- 
try, immediately replied, "China Emperor 
iweniy^faur .'" Their romances abound 
with poetry, as our readers will find, even 
in the short narrative of Miss Lwan's sor. 

rows ; and it is cuVibus to ol^Berve, that so 
early as 1100 years ago, they cultivated to 
a very great extent this bi'anch of their litera* 
ture, of which their •• Book of Odes" if iheir 
earliest specimen." Mr. Davis gives us a'd 
extract from a Chinese work on that subject, 
in which they themselves compare the pro* 
gress of their versification in later centuries 
to the growth of a tree 3 *' the ancient Book 
of Odes may be likened to the roots ; when 
Toolo flourished the buds appeared ; in the 
time of Kiefi'gdn there was abundance of 
foliage ; but during the Tang dynasty msny 
reposed under the shade of the tree, and it 
yielded rich su^lisft of flowers aiid fraits." 
The *« Book of Odes" is considered to have 
been written about 3,000 years ago,^ and the 
composition chiefly consists in descriptions 
of the pain felt by the author, at the conduct 
of an ungrateful friend. Those of our Ori 
ental readers who have been suflicitntly 
curious to read any part of this, will re 
member the beautiful allusions to tho storm 
in one portion of the work. Their poetry 
general ly consists of odes and songs, of moral, 
sentimental and descriptive pieces; amongst 
the last, some of our readers will recollect 
the curious poem on London, written by a 
Chinese in 1613, who seems, from his some- 
what accurate and quaint description, to have 
been better acquainted than the generality of 
his countrymen with England and its man- 
ners, and evincing more knowledge with re« 
spect to our country, than Goldsmith ex- 
hibits in his Chinese philosopher with 
regard to China. 

Our space will not allow us to enter into 
the difierent versification adopted by their 
poets, nor the curious arrangement of the 
shortest, which consists of three feet,' and is 
used for assisting the memory, as in the 
composition of the Santse King * Trime 
trical Classic,' a work on general know- 
ledge for boys in that country. We would 
refer our curious readers for a very full ac 
count on this subject, to the second volume 
of the Royal Asiatic Trausaciions, which 
gives numerous examples, bat we fear that 
perhaps in our anterior observations we 
have been guilty, as the Chinese say, of 
•* pouring water on a duck's back," and will, 
therefore, proceed to examine the amusing 
work before us. The tale is extracted from the 
11th volume of 

4^# t 

Kin Koo Ke Kwan, *' Remarkable Obser- 
vations of Modern Times," in twelve vol- 
umes ; it is somewhat difficult to ascertain 
under what head the work may be classed 
since it is neither in the style of the classic 


Chines* LiUrature. 


nor in the Mandarin language, bat is rather 
'^ the demi or bastard clussic.'* The resident 
natives at Canton, who consist merely of 
Hong merchants, linguists, compradores, 
&c. dec, are unable to afford translators 
any assistance in the complicated ditficukies 
of the language, and if they possessed any 
literary knowledge, are not allowed to com- 
nnunicate it. Mr. Thorn tells us, that 

*' daring a rtsidenoe of ^ye years he has only three 
times (and that by^meie accident) conversed with 
persons who can properly be called by profession 
literary men (lettrds Chinois) ; two of these occa. 
sions beinff upon business, no familiar conversation 
was permitted. 'I 'he third was at a Ilongr mer* 
chantHi« where a Nan lin (acad^mlcien) was visiting 
as a friend. This ietird Chinois condescendcsd to 
ask a few questions, but smiled with mcredulity on 
being told that the English had their poetry, as well 
as the Chinese had their*s, and appeared actually to 
sicken with diHfust, when assured that it was quite 
possible in our Eartmrous tongue to compose a W&n 
cbang ! (thesis or homily.) It is worthy of note 
that this gentleman, on meeting the writer, gave 
hHnself out as a merchant, most probably from the 
idea that it was beneath the dignity of a lettrd to 
pollute his lips by conversing familiarly with a des. 
pised foreigner ! In one word then (and the truth 
muft bo told, even though with a blush) the Chi. 
nese men of letters look upon us, upon our punuits, 
and upon every thing connected with us, with the 
most utter contempt !*' 

Mr. Thorn consulted one of the Si^en sang 
or teachers who frequent the Hongs, but 
even the most talented of them, the transla- 
tor of £«op'8 fablea into Chinese, only 
plunged him deeper into his difficulties ; 
for having occasion to consult him repeat- 
edly during his labours on the present work, 
he would continually give him random in- 
terpretations of several important pa«sage^. 
The explanation of one day was totally dif- 
ferent from the following, " and when taxed 
with inconsistency, he would merely say, 
that every man wluin reading Chinese poetry 
would read it in his own way;" that it was, 
** qiiot homines tot sententise," ^Mery man 
had a difTerrnt interpretation. 

Many of the expressions of the Chinese 
writers are not exactly calculated for the 
English reader, and Mr. Thom thought it 
advisable, in reperusing his work, to leave 
out various offensive passages, and also to 
arrange it in such a manner as should re* 
lieve the remarkably abrupt siyle it present- 
ed in an entirely literal form — ^this little 
work is embellished with a very tolerable 
lithographed plate by a native artist, without 
that painful disregard of all perspective 
which we have in most of the works of the 
•* old masters" of China, 

Previous to the history of Miss Keaoo 
Lwan Wang is the short tale of a young 
lady named Miss Neen urh, and a certain 
Mr. Cbang-yih ; but we mutt refer our read. 

ers to Mr. Thorn's translation^ for this 
lady's remarkable character and adventures, 
and on the present occasion will confine 
ourselves to the more pathetic narration of 
the former lady. 

We are told that ** this fact," meaning 
the history of Miss Wang, *' did not occur 
in the Tang dynasty, neither in the Sung 
dynasty, but it took place in our owO| or our 
fathers' lime." 

The tale commences with our readers be- 
ing informed that — 

** During the four years of the retgn of the Em. 
peror Teenshan the Meaoulze barbarians of 
Kwangse rebelled and caused a deal of confusion. 
Every place was despatching troops to subdue or 
extirpate the rel>els, and among others was a Cheh. 
wuy (the rank of a colonel) catted Wang. r hung, of 
the Lingan military station, who was bringing up a 
division of Chekeang soldiers, but who nut arriving 
in time was reported to the emperor, and in conse* 
queoce degraded to the post of a TKceri hoo, (or a 
captain), and further, being sent to perform his 
duties at the centre of the military station of Nan 
yang, in the province of llonan, he forthwith took 
his family to the place of his- official employment. 
Wang-chung was upwards of sixty, and had only 
one son, called Wangpew, who being somewhat 
famed for skill and valour, was detained by the 
viceroy and his lieutenant in the army as a sort of 
cadet. He had however two daughters, the elder 
was called Keaou Lwan, and the younger Kcaou 
Fung. Lwan*8 age was now about eighteen, and 
Fung*B about two years leKS. Fung had been 
brought up apart from her home, and being betroth, 
ed to a cousin by the rooihcr*s side from her tender 
years, tiiere only remained Lwan who had not yet 
been pledged to matrimony. Captain Wang bad 
married his present wife, Mrs. Chow, after the 
death of his first wife, and Mrs. Chow had an elder 
sister who had married into the family of Tsaou, 
but who now being a widow and very poor, was 
received into her sister's honse 9m a sort of com- 
panion to her niece. Krsou Lwan and the whole 
family called her by the familiar appellation of aunt 

Miss Lwan seems to have been inclined 
from her infancy to be a little blue, and had 
a touch of romance combined with it ; for 
she would often '* sigh when standing in the 
pure breeze or the bright moon," and com* 
plain of her state of single blessedness. We 
must not forget to mention in the establish, 
ment a little lady's maid, who, like ail lady's 
maids, was every thing to her young mis- 
tress, and quite au fait in the art of deliver* 
ing a billet-doux, as well as dreas-making 
ond dressing hair. 

One fme morning, being the Tsinff-miog 
term, or during the time when the Chinese 
worship at the tomb of their ancestors, Miss 
Keaou Lwan went into the back garden, ac- 
companied by her good aunt and her little 
M aitiog-maid, to unbend hor mind by a game 
in the round-about. During their amuse- 
ment they were watched by a young gentle- 
man who waa a Sewtaae* or a fiacheloir of 




Arts, named Ting chang, of the family of 
Cliow, in the Foo disi rlct of Soochow. It so 
happened that his father was a profes'sur oi 
the College of Nan yan^;:, and tbat this same 
college was on aline with the military sta- 
tion ,* so our young gentleman dressed in 
mulherry coloured clothes, and wearing on 
his head a cap or kerchief of the Tang dy- 
nasty. *vas hcnding forward his head and look, 
ing on, called out without ceasing, *• Well 
done ! well done !" Poor Miss Keaou Lwan^s 
countenance was suffused with blubhes, and 
like all :imid young ladies she rushed for 
protection to the first person near her, which 
was her aunt, and then made a precipitate 
rctrtat to her boudoir or fragrant chambfr, 
as it is called in China. Young Mr. Ting 
chang, delighted with the adventure, jumps 
over the wail to hover round the spot, where 
the atmosphere had been perfumed by her pre- 
sence, and in sodoini; was fortunate enough 
to find **n handkerchief of scented gauze,three 
cubits long nnd finely embroidered;" over* 
joyed at his prize and hearing some footsteps, 
he makes his exit, and takes his stand at the 
same gap in the wall — the liitle waiting-maid 
makes her appearance, who was sent by her 
mistress to look for the lost scarf. 

" The student seeing her go round and round. 
Again and again, and hunt hero and tJicre and evo< 
ry where, until perfectly fagfjrcd, at length smiled, 
and sai'l to her, * My preily miss, the handkerchief 
having already gat into anuiher person's poetesaion, 
pray what use is there in looking for it any longer V 
The waiting-maid ra wi d her head, and seeing that it 
was a Suwtsae who had addressed her, came forward 
with a * ten tiwosand blessings on you, young gen- 
tleman. I presume thai it is my young master who 
has picked it up ; if so, please to return it me, and 
niy gratitude will be unbounded I* The student 
asked, ' pray whom does the gauze handkerchief 
belong to V The waiting.maid replied, * it belongs 
to my yoong lady.' The student rejoined * since it 
belongs to your young lady, I must still have your 
young lady come and ask fur it herself, and then I 
will return it her.' ** 

A pretty little flirtation then takes place 
between the student and the waiting maid ; 
he former declaring who he is, and in re- 
turn learns from the *' pretty Miss" thai her 
'* mighty name" is Ming hea, and that she is 
the bosom attendant of her mistress. Ting 
chang stilt refuses her the handkerchief^ but 
begs her to take a little piece of poetry to 
her mistress, written upon a sheet of peach 
flowered paper, doubled up so as to form a 
fangshing^ or parallelogram, and after a little 
persuasion, aided by the gifl of an irresisti- 
ble gold hair pin, she consents, . This is the 
commencement of a poetical correspondence 
betwecD tlie new lovers, '* so voluminous" 
that we cannot here narrate it alL We shall, 
kowerer, give our readers, in the author's 

words. Aunt Tsaou's discovery that hei* 
niece has a lover. 

**The season of the year was now theTiftvn^ 
yang.term,'* (or the fifth day of the fifth moon, « 
great Chinese holiday,) '* and Captain Wang spread 
a little family banquet in the pavilion in the gaiHion/ 
Ting chang kept going backwards and forwardii 
near a favourite spot : be knew perfectly well that 
the young lady herself was in the back ground, but 
he had no means of seeing her or speaking with her 
face to face, neither could Ming hea communicate 
a single word. While he was in the very midst of- 
hilt perplexity, be iroezpcctedly met with a foldief 
of the military station, whose name was Sinkew. 
Now this said Sinkew was also a very skilful car- 
penter, he was commonly employed in the military 
station, whore be acted aa a sort of police aeijeant, 
and was moreover frequently in the college, wbers 
they employed him as a workman. Ting chang 
then, on meeting Sinkew, forthwith wrote out a 
verso of poetry, which he sealed op carefully, and 
taking two hundred cssb, gave them to the soldier 
to buy himself a cop of wine, entmsUng him at th* 
same time with the letter, which he was instructed 
to hand over to Mies Ming hea. Sinkew, when he 
had received a man's pay, was an honcft enough 
fellow in divcharging the duty he was engaged furs 
BO he waited till neat morning, when, apymg a good 
opportunity, he slipped the letter into Ming Ilea's 
hand, who in her turn handed it up to her young 
lady. Keaou Lwan accordingly broke it open and 
perused it. There was a small introdneiion, which 
said, * On the festival of the Twao-yang, I looked 
for my young lady Keaou Lwan in the garden, and 
not seeing her, my mouth uttered the following 
verse, impromptu — 


I have spun the party-coloured thread with whieh 
I had hoped to have bound our destinies together. 

** I have poured out the full goblet spiced with tho 
Chang poo leaf, which I had expected to have 
pledged with you ! 

'* But clouds sunder the river of oor mutual sym* 
pathies, 1 see not her who is the delight of my 

'* And, like the Iteauteoua snn.flower, in vain my 
heart turns to the God of day !*• ' ^^^^^ 

** At the end of the bi1Iet.douz were these words, 

* Chow Ting chang, of Sung.Iing, who scribbled 
this, presents his best respects.' 

** Keaou Lwan, having read this love letter, 
placed it on the top of her bookstand. She then, 
in course, went to comb her hair, not yet having 
made a reply, when, unexpectedly, Aunt Tsaou en* 
tered the fragrant apartment, and seeing a scribbled 
sheet of poetry, gave a great start, and exclaimed, 

* Ah ! Miss Keaou I If you have these clandestine 
goings-on in Uie western outhouse,* why not have 
the landlord of the eastern path to direct you ? 
How could you ever think of concealing this piece 

« This alludes to a well-known Chinese novel 
called the •« Se Seang," (literally, the Western 
Outhouse.) which relates to the intrigues of Mim 
Tsuy, from whoee eyes a single glance beiflt an 
unfortunate student, named Master Chang Kung^ 
alias tCwan Suy, of'his soul ^nd spirit, and conse? 
quently be bcoamo her devoted admirer, and bor- 
rowed the outhoQseof the temple, under pretencfl 
of studying there, but the current of their lOTep d\4 
not run smootht 


CA|»«M fAlerahir*. 


of basinem fVom me P K^oa Lwan blushed, mnd I 
replied, *klthoUfrfa we have been stringing a few' 
rhymes together, the thing has not gone any fur- 
ther ; were it so, I should not dare to conceal it 
from my dear AunL* Aont Tsaou remarked, * This 
young stadei^t. Chow, is a sewtsae, of Koang>nan 
provinco ; ypur respective families are much upon 
a pits why i)pt desire him to send a go-between to 
arrange matters ? You would then complete a 
matr.monial connection for life, and would no( this 
be a good plap V *' 

Many amusing details respecting the cer. 
emony of marriage may be found in a work 
entitled ''The Fortunate Union." A mar- 
ried woman in China must really be con- 
sidered a very happy person, for, like the 
sovereign of our country, ^ she can do no 
wrong.*' Upon the shoulders of the unfor- 
tunate husband, who stands in a similsr sit- 
uation to our ministers, rests all the respon- 
sibility of her actions as well as of his own. 
The lady on marriage assumes her hus. 
band's surname. There are seven grounds 
of divorce, amongst which are talkativeness, 
thieving, ill temper, &c. Aunt Tsaou men- 
tions the usual custom of a go-between, 
which is always observed, and is entitled 
ping. These agents, selected by the parents, 
bring the matter about by inquirinf^ into the 
relstive positions in life of the bride and 
bridegroom, as it is essential in China that 
there should be an equality of rank on both 
sides. The most appropriate time is con- 
sidered to be in spring, and in the first moon 
of the Chinese year (February), when the 
peach tree blossoms in China. Our readers 
will remember the delicate allusion Mr. 
Chow wished to convoy to his fair one, in 
writing upon peach-coloured paper. Mr. 
Davis, in his work on China, gives us some 
very beautiful verses from the pen of Sir 
William Jones, the paraphrase of a literal 
translation of a passage in the Chinese 
« Book of Odes :"— 

*< Sweet Child of spring, the garden's queen, 
Yon peach tree charms the roving sight ; 

Its fragrant leaves, bow richly green, 
Its Uossoms, how divinely bright X 

** So softly shines the beauteous bride, 

By love and conscious virtue led, 
0*er her new mansion to preside, 

And placid joys around her spread." 

But we left Miss Lwan in rather a critical 
position. She yety rationally concedes to 
ner aunt's wishes, snd accordingly writes a 
few rhymes to her lover, telling him that he 
would '* do well to employ the go-between, 
to comwiunicate a word in season." Ting 
chang, upon receiving the poetry, sends his 
friend Chaou-heo kew, (literally the man of 
ice,) to Captain Wang, soliciting the honour 
of his daughter's hand. Now Miss Lwan 

was every thing to her father, as she arrang- 
ed all his papers and wrote his letters, and 
as he could not possibly do without her, he 
would give no promise. Upon this decision 
of the hard-hearted parent, heaps of verses 
pass between the disconsolate lovers, and a 
bright thought occurs to Ting chang that 
Mrs. Wang is of the same family name as his 
own, and that he will pay his respects to her 
and ask to become her adopted nephew. To 
further his plans, he complairs to his father 
that the college is too confined for his studies, 
and that he should like to pursue them in 
the back garden of the military station. His 
father, Professor Chow, negociates the affair 
with Captain Wang, and it is amicably ar- 
ranged, and that he shall also take his meals 
with the family. Ting chang chooses a 
lucky day on the almanack, and taking some 
silks and brocades as presents, makes his 
appearance at Captain Wang's house, and is 
most graciously received. The old gentle- 
man, however, takes care to cut off all com* 
munication between his daughtt^r's apart- 
ments and the young student's, so that now 
no more peach blossom paper could be used. 
This was not a y^Ty favourable state of af- 
fairs for the lovers, and poor Miss Lwan 
falls sick and refuses to eat. 

Ting chang all of a sudden remembers 
that he is deeply read in the science of medi- 
cine, and declares to Captain Wang that 
he can do her more good than any of the 
soothsayers and physicians already consult- 
ed. The plan succeeds, and he obtains two 
or three interviews with his fair one ; bat 
the tiresome old lady and gentleman are al- 
ways present. To remedy this he proposes, 
as an essential thing, that the invalid shall 
have more exercise. From this time the 
course of their love runs smoothly, and we 
give our readers the following interesting 
scene of the first vows which passed be* 
tween ihem, while they were in the garden : 

** Ting chang at lengrth seized an opportunity 
when no one was present to urge his salt, and ear- 
nestly implored a glance at the fragrant chamber. 
Keaou Lwan stole a look towards the wpoi where 
aunt Tsaou stood, and answered in a low whisper 
' the key is in her possession, my brother must him- 
self beg* it of her.* Ting chang in an instant com- 
prehended her meaning, and next day, having 
purchased two pieces of the finest silks and a pair 
of gold bracelets, he employs Ming hea to laj them 
before aunt Tsaou. This good lady forthwith hied 
away to her niece, and said to her, * young master 
Chow has been sending me a verv handsome present. 
I'm sure I don*t know what his meaning can be 
by 00 doing !* • Why,* said Kesou Lwan, ' he ia a 
young and thoughtless student, and not without hit 
faults, I presume he means by his present to solicit 
my kind aunt's indulgence !' Aunt Tsaou replied, 
* what is most at heart with you two youog ft^ln I 
know perfectly, but whatever intercourse you aaay 
have, I will never disclose it !' Saying theys wordi^ 


CAinett Iduraiur: 


•he took the key and handed it oyer to Minp hea. 
Lwan%i heart was delighted, and she insuntly 
wrote the following stanzas to Ting cbang ; 

' In secret I take those words and send them to my 
lord, ' 

Bat do not inconsiderately open your lips to other 

people ! 
This night the door of the fragrant apartment will 

not be locked, 
And when the moon changes the shadows of the 

flowers let my loyer come V 

On reeeiying these lines. Ting Chang's joy was 
without bounds. That night, when it was already 
dosk and the watchman's first drum had sounded, 
he with slow and stealthy steps bent his way to the 
inner section of the house, and the back door 
bBingajar, he sideways slipped himself through. 
From that day when he felt her pulse in her bed- 
room and returned by the back garden, he had but 
slender recollection of the pasuige, so lie moved 
along slowljr : but at length seeing the rays of a 
lamp and Ming hea standing waiting for him at 
the door, he quickened his pace, and walked 
straight into the young lady's chamber. Ting 
chang made her a low bow and wished to clasp her 
in his arms, but Lwan pushed him off and desired 
Ming hea to call aunt Tsaou to come and sit with 
her. At this the student's hopes were greatly 
baulked, and all the bitterness of disappointed loye 
rising up before his eyes, he upbraided her with 
change of mind, and his tears were about to flow. 
Lwan, seeing him in this state, observed, * I am a 
yirtoous maiden, and yon, sir, are, I believe, no rake ; 
alas ! it is only because the youth possesses talent 
and the fair one beauty that we thus love, thus 
compassionate each other ! I, having clandestinely 
admitted you to my apartment, now hold myself 
yeurs fer ever ! and you, sir, were you now to cast 
me off, would not this be a poor return for the i 
implicit confidence I repose in you? Hoi you I 
must here in the presence of the all-seeing Gods, 
swear to live with me as man and wife, tSl both 
otir heads are white with age ; if you aim at any 
irregularity beyond this^ though you slay me, yet 
will I not consent.' She speke these words with 
great earnestness, and had scarce finislied when 
aunt Tsaou arrived. This lady, in the first instance, 
thanked Ting chang for the handsome present he 
had sent her during the day, and the young gentle, 
man ii^ return implored her to pUy the part of a 
go-between and marry them. He swore to be a 
most faithful and loving husband ; and his impre. 
eation, if false, flowed from his mouth like a torrcDt. 
Under these circumstances, aunt Tsaou thus 
addressed them both :—• My beloved nephew and 
niece, since you wish that I play the go-between, 
you must begin by writing out conjointly fdur 
copies of a marriage contract. The first copy we 
will take and burn before heaven and earth, so as 
to call the good and evil spirits to witness what we 
are about. Another copy you will leave with me, 
the go-between, as proof, if at some future day your 
love towards each other should wax cold : and 
each of you should preserve a copy as a plodj^e, 
that one day or another you will join the bridal 
cups, and go through the other forms of a regular 
marriage. If the woman deeeive the man, may 
the swift lightning strike her dead ! If the man 
deceive the woman, may unnumbered arrows slay 
his body ! and further, maybe or she again receive 
the punishment of their crime in the city of the 
dead, by sinking into the hell of darkness for ever 
and ever ." Aunt Tsaou pronounced the curse in 
a ihost solemn and touching manner, that struck 
awe for a momant info the hearts of both the student 
VOL. XXVI. 10 

and Lwan ; with mntnal fondness, however, thay 
set about writing out the several copies of the 
marriage contract, which being solemnly sworn to, 
they knelt in humble worship before heayen and 
earth, and afterwards returned their hearty thanka 
to aunt Tsaou. She then, producing rich fruits and 
mellow wine, pledged each of them in a cup, and 
wished them joy as man and wife." 

Our reader must understand that these 
clandestine marriages seldom take place in 
Chinay and therefore our lovers were very 
cautious in their movements, for fear that 
old Mr. Wang should discover them. Mat- 
ters however went on very prosperously, 
and the little waiting maid Ming hea was 
despatched every third or fifth day with an 
invitation froin her mistress to Master Ting 
chang to come to her. And thus half a year 
rolled on, and Professor Chow's term of 
office having expired, he departed, and would 
have taken his son with him,but that he refus- 
ed, on the plea that he wished to complete his 
course of studies, but really from his ex. 
cessive love for Miss Lwan. But our read- 
ers will find that love is but a name, as well 
as friendship; for I'ing chang looking 
over the Pekin Gazette perceived that his 
father, on account of ill health, had retired' 
from office, and was gone to his native place. 
A violent desire of seeing his parents sud- 
denly seizes him. His grief is observed by 
Miss Lwan and her aunt, who both very 
generously urge him to follow the dictates 
of his filial affection. By their united en- 
treaties he at last consents to go ; we give 
our readers, in the words of the translator, 
the affecting scene of the last few hours the 
lovers were together : — 

*' That night Lwan set out wine in the fragrant 
apartment, and sent an invitation to Ting chang. 
Then she again went over all tho circumstances of 
their previous oath, and agsin they fixed upon as it 
were their wedding day. Aunt Tsaou also sat by 
their side : they conversed the liye-long night, nor 
did balmy sleep once seal up their eres. When 
about to depart, Lwan asked the student to leaye 
with her the place of his abode. Ting chang in. 
quired for what reason. 'Nothing,' said Lwan, 

* merely in case of your not coming speedily, I may 
perhaps send a few lines to you.' The student 
caught up a pencil and wrote the following sen. 
tence : — 

* When I think of my relations a thousand mUes o% 
I must return to Soochow— 

My family dwell in Woa keang town, the seven. 

teenth division — 
You must ask for the mouth of the Shwang yang 

rivulet in the South Ma — 
And at the bottom of the Yeuling bridge stands 

the house of Woo the grain inspector.' 

•* Ting chang said farther by way of ezplanation» 
' the name of our family is properly speaking Woo, 
and one of my ancestors, a long time ago, in fulfill, 
ing the duties of a tithing man, was very famona 
for the way in which he managed the grain intrust, 
cd to him ; hence we are called the family of Wor 
the grain inspector. Chow i^ the name of anoth 




fttmily into which we hmve been adopted. Although 
to satisry you, my love, I have written out these 
linee, yet is there little occAtion for them, seeing the 
vehemenoe of my desire to return to you. While 
■eperated from you, days will seem years. Tiie 
longest that I can possibly be away is a year, the 
•boriest, about half that time, when I will most cer- 
tainly bring my father's card in my hand« and come 
myself to claim you as my bride. As I live I will 
never, never permit my beauty of the harem to be a 
prey to anxiety and suspense.* Having thus spoken 
they embraced each other and wept; gradually 
'nighrs candles being burnt out, the envious 
streaks of day did lace the severing clouds in the 
far east,' when Lwan herself accompanied her lover 
out of the garden. There is on record a stanza of 
eight lines in couplets to the following purport :— 


* Bound together by mutual sympathy as fish to the 

water, so have we been evidently created for 
each other ! 
But, alas! when I think of my parents far away I 
am compelled to tear myself from yon.' 


* In the flower garden henceforward who will look 

with roe at the bright moon ? 
In the fragrant apartment from this, I care not 
about playing at chess !* 


* I only fear lest your person being far distant from 

me, your love may also grow cold ! 
I feel no anxiety about my literary eseays not be. 
ing complete, I only dread lest my happiness 
be not complete V 


* I droop my head and speak not, but the feelings of 

my heart are peHectly alive to what is going 
Though overcome with grief at the thoughts of 
parting, I perforce assume a look of content 
and* satisfaction.** 

** In a moment mere it was broad day.light, and 
the horse that was to bear the student from bis bride 
stood at the door read^ saddled and bridled. Mr. 
Wang got wine ready m the inner hall, and his wife 
and the 'Other ladies assembled for the stirrup cup 
or parting glass. Ting chang again made his 
obeisance and took his leave. Lwan, finding that 
grief was getting the better of her, and that she was 
about to burst into tears, silently stole away to her 
apartment, where she caught up a piece of black 
silk, such as is used on these occasiuns, and wrote 
thereon a verse of eight lines. This she gave to 
Ming hea and desired her to wait for a favourable 
Importunity when Ting chang was mounting his 
horse, privately to put it into his hand. The stu- 
dent, when on horseback, broke it open and read as 
follows : — ^ 

* "We have grasped each other's lily hands and sat 

side by side. 
And now compelled to part — ^bow can I bear up 

against two torrents of tears 7 
Before your horse, my love, shall have distanced 

yon mournful willow. 
My heart shall have gone before yon far as the 

white clouds beyond. 
I will adhere to the rules of chastity |ts firmly as 

did the unfortunate lady Keang — 

* Mr. Thorn also gives us another translation of 
this line. •* I perforce take my parting tears, and 
'•s therewith my arebed eyebrows." 

Or as yoQ, sir, ia estaening tfie five relations of 

mankind, are of the class of the dntifnl Min 

When your aim is accomplished, do you speedily 

turn your head and bend your steps hither- 

ward — 
For your poor girl of the harem is tbipf and unable 

to endure so much troubled sleepi* ** 

Oar readers, who are unread in CbineM 
lore, will perhaps be glad of the iDformatioo 
extracted from the interesting notes the au- 
thor has added to his Hitle work. There 
seem to have been two or three celebrated 
ladies of the name of Keang ; one of them 
was the royal concubine of the Chaou of the 
TsoO| who used to amuse himself by walk- 
ing on a certain terrace with Queeu Keang^, 
and was accustomed to send her a ticket or 
piece of bamboo by the servant, when he 
required her presence. A tremendous flood 
arose and' encircled- her house. The Em- 
peror bearing of it sent a messenger imme* 
d lately to desire her to leave it; but poor 
Queen Keang, not seeing the accustomed 
piece of bamboo, obstinately refused to leave 
the room, and was unfortunately drownfd. 
Another lady of the same name« (and to 
whom we suppose Miss Lwan refers,) was 
the wife of Prince Kung-pih of Wei, 
who having died early, the lady's parents 
were very anxious that she should marry 
again ; but she resolved to be faithful to her 
first love, and composed certain stanzasi 
which are well known in Chinese literature. 
The dutiful Min Keen, or Min Isze Keen* 
was a disciple of Confucius. His father was 
a coachman, and married a second time. 
The new Mrs. Keen proved to be, like all 
stepmothers in fairy tales, a very wicked 
one. After her marriage she bore him a 
son. One day, the fiather finding that she 
had deprived his little son of some of his 
under clothing, he was in a great passion, 
and would have turned his wife out of doors, 
but little Min Keen, with tears in his eyes, 
said, *< While mother is still here, it is only 
one son who suffers cold ; but were you to 
send mother away, both boys would be des. 
titute and forlorn.*' Bo kind a supplication 
appeased the father's wrath, and tended to 
lessen the severity of his stepmother. We 
are told that Confucius said of him, ^* Who 
is the dutiful son? Why, it is Min Isze 
Keen!" And now our readers must pre* 
pare themselves for the treacherous conduct 
of Mr. Ting chang. He arrives at his fa* 
ther's house, and finds that he has made a 
matrimonial alliance for him with a certain 
Miss Wei, of incomparable beauty, and with 
enormous wealth. Ting chaqg is not proof 
against her golden charms ; and forgetting 
Miss Wang, «« after half a- year Miss Wei 


ChinuB lAUrnhtte. 


crossed his threshold, man and wife took to 
each kindly." 

Poor Miss Wang, not hearing from her 
false lover, pines in secret — ^* during the 
day she was wretched and lonely — before 
the pale lamp her own shadow was her only 
companion/' Upwards of a year passes 
away, when one day Ming hea rushes in and 
tells her that a man is just come from the 
military station at Lingan, which she parti- 
cularly impresses upon her is in the Hang- 
chow district, and that, as he is at)out to re. 
turn, she can send her husband a letter. 
Keaou Lwan writes a very long one, with- 
out loss of time, and begging him to return 
to Nan yang immed lately » and to bring with 
him a marriage contract, to complete their 
*• matrimonial arrangement for life." The 
letter seems to have been mostly in poetry. 
It must have been put in a very large enve- 
lope ; and the following direction would, we 
fear, be rather awkward for those which our 
present government have issued, with Mr. 
Mulready's interesting group of Chinese, 
dsc. upon them. 

*• I will trouble the bearer to take thie letter and 
preeent it at the pablic eoart io Weo city. 

The family, which are of the greateet reepeetability, 
worthy indeed to be boasted oft 

Their ancestors have dwelt for a long time in the 
house of a certain grain inspector. 

And the distinguished nther at this moment holds 
the office of a Seaen hwa ! * 

If you already know the eastern part of the build- 
ing, the western will not be fkr off» 

Only take care that you don't make a mistake and 
go to the north Ma instead of the south Ma ! 

If you meet any one on the road, you must ask him, 
* Pray, sir. in what pretty little hamlet is* the 
bndge of Yen-ling?'" 

Miss Lwan languishes on seven months 
longer without a syllable from her lover, 
and at the end of that period sends a similar 
letter, committing it to the charge of a cer- 
tain Mr. Chang who was going that way. 
Mr. Chang is as good as his word, and de- 
livers the letter into Ting chang's own hand, 
whom he meets on the very bridge men. 
tinned in the address. Ting chang is very 
much confused at this unexpected letter, and 
invites Mr. Chang into a neighbouring tavern, 
to take a friendly glass of wine ^ while he 
writes a hurried reply, to the efiect that his 
father is ill and requires his presence, but 
he hopes ere long to see her." Mr. Chang 
returns to Nan yang, and the young lady 
eagerly reads the contents — *' and though it 
did not specify any time for her lover's re- 
turn, yet it held out a Aope, and served as 

* « An ancient mandarinship, about equal to a 
modam Che-been.** 

painted cake doea to appease one^s hungerv 
or looking at plums to allay one's thirst.** 
Ting chang is far too occupied with his own 
concerns to remember his former vows, and 
for the third time does the disconsolate Miss 
Lwan send him a letter — and all without 
effect. The news of her sister Eeaou Fung 
being safely delivered of a fine boy makes 
her sigh more deeply at their different des« 
tinies. Her grief is prettily expressed in 
the following lines, which are the conclusion 
of her letter. 

** I again and again enjoin my lover that he miss 

not an opportunity of returning. 
Even should we live a hundred years as man 

and wife, pray how long is that after all 7 
The daughter of the Wang family has become 

the Bride of the son of the Chow family— 
The civilian's boy has espoused the military 

officer's girl ! 
And ten thousand bushels of sorrow lock down 

my eye-brows overcast with care ! 
Alas ! when I reflect that we are in two distant 

lands, my regret is greater than ever !" 

Much the same sort of dii^ction is put on 
ti)is letter, only it is shorter, and she digni* 
fies the grain inspector by the appellation 
of ** Respectability itself." Our readers 
must now prepare themselves for the more 
tragical part of this history. Miss Lwan's 
feelings again place her on a bed of sick, 
ness. Her parents, together with aunt 
Tsaou, conceive that the best thing for her 
is to form another alliance j but she replies 
-^" A human being without faith is as a 
beast! I would rather that Mr. Chow 
should deceive me, than that I should attempt 
to deceive the all^ieeing Gods !" Gradually 
the truth unfolds itself to her heart, and she 
despairs of his return. As a last resource, 
by her aunt's advice, she writes him a series 
of stanzas, recalling to his memory their 
former loves* Many of the expressions are 
very forcible and beautiful, and others, 
again, tend to excite our laughter. We 
will give a short extract from this poetical 

<* Since you went away, Sir, I do nothing but knit 

my eyebrows ; 
I am grown carelew about arranging mv rongs 

and cosmetics, and my head is like a broom ; 
Bride and bridegroom in two diflfereot land** 

Oh ! painful is the thought — 

One night I dreamt that my love was wedded to 

another ; 
And wlien morning broke, without being awara 

of it, grief had transformed my ftce fh>m 

youth to age ! 
We swore, that if false, we wore willing that the 

Gods should hurl their thunder and dait 

their avenging lightning-* 
And the goddess Heuen neu commonicated our 

oath through the whole of the nine heavens ! 
Since then, you have only returned to your na^ 

ttve plaee, and not to the ^leama of Hadci 


Chinut LiUratwrt. 


Why is then to maeh difllcalty in meiag your ' 

face, or in getting tidings from yon t 
My lover*! ftflfoetion is false, bot mine, alaa ! is 

too true— 
And I now again send this letter by express, to 

show the carnation colour of my heart !* 
Alas \ for a blusning flower of thrice seven sum- 
Silent and lonely is her fragrant apartment, and 
her painful thoughts insupportable.*' 
• • • ♦ • 

Aunt Tsaou added also a few lines of ex- 
postulation, and the two were inclosed in an 
envelope with the sublime commencement — 

*< These for a majestic and striking house, like a 
prime minister's palace,** &c. &c. 

Sin conveys the letter to Ting chang, 
who is very much frightened, and, hastily en- 
tering his house* sends the following verbal 
message by his tiger : — 

'• My master," says the boy, *' has been married 
to the young lady of Mr. Wei, the Tung che foo 
magistrate, now about three years; the road to 
Nan yang is very far, and he can hardly be ex- 
pected to go back there ; and as a letter is a diffi. 
cult thing to write, he reUes upon yon, that you will 
deliver this verbal message for him. This scented 
gauze handkerchief in former days belonged to 
Miss Lwan, as well as this sheet of paper, which is 
a marriage contract ; and he begs that yon will re- 
turn them to her, in order that she may think 
no more about him. Master at first wanted to 
have kept you to give you a dinner, but he is 
afraid, lest the old gentleman, his lather, might be 
asking annoying questions, and getting surprised 
and angry, so he sends you these five mace of sil. 
ver** (am>ut three shillings sterling) ** for your road 
expenses, and expects that next time you won*t 
give yourself the trouble of a long journey for 
nothing !** 

Sin got into a violent passion at this 
message, and heaped all sons of maledic- 
tions upon Ting chang's head ; at last he is 
80 overpowered by his feelings, that he be- 
comes hysterical and weeps aloud. His 
noisy grief attracts the attention of the pass- 
ers by> who learn the whole history, and 
are loud in their reproaches against Ting 
chang* Miss Lwan, upon receiving the 
fatal message, passes three days and three 
nights in her chamber, bewailing the past, 
and drawing up a poetical narration of hor 
cruel fate. We must refer our readers to 
the work itself for this sad narrative, which 
she inclosed, together with copies of their 
marriage contract, in the form of a Manda- 
rin's public document, and directed it to the 
chief magistrate of Woo-keang. Our read- 
ers must sympathise with us in the melan- 
choly fate of Miss Lwan from the original 
translation ; — 

^ ** This means a smcere heart ; they say that 
He heart of a bad man is black.** — Jferrissfi. 

'« That very night Koaon Lwan washed her per> 
son with the utmost care, and having changed her 
clothes, she desired Ming hea to go and boil her 
some tea, using this deceit to get Ming hea out of 
the room. 14 o sooner was her maid gone, than, 
having first fastened the door, she made use of a 
stool to support her feet, then taking a white sash, 
she threw it over a beam and tied it ; next, having 
made fast the scented gauze napkin, the firs( cause 
of all her woes, round her throat, i^e joined it to 
the white sash in a dead knot, and finally kicking 
away ihe stool, her feet swung in mid air, and in a 
moment her spirit dissolved In ether, while her soul 
sought the habitatkms of the dead, at the early age 
of twenty^ne years! « • • « Ming hea, then, 
having boiled the tea, was bringing it to her 
mistress, when she found the door fast shut ; she 
knocked for some time, but no one opening, she ran 
in a great fright to communicate the inteUigence to 
aunt Tsaou. This lady along with Mrs. Chow 
speedily arrived, and the room door being forced 
open, words cannot describe the horror and dismay 
that seized them, whon the sad spectacle within 
presented itself to their view ! Old Mr. Wang 
was not long in hearing the dismal tale, and in an 
instant repaired to the spot It were needless to 
relate the scene of sorrow that ensued; neitber 
the old gentleman nor his lady knew for what 
reason tlieir beloved daughter had committed so 
rarii an act. But it was necessary to take some 
steps for the interment of the body : and a coffin 
being procured, what was once tne lovely and 
accomplished Lwan was, amid the tears and lamen. 
tations of the whole household, consigned to the 
silent grave !** 

Such is the melancholy end of poor Miss 
Lwan. Her faithless lover most unwilling- 
ly ^* sought the habitations of the dead" by 
the hand of the executioner, and our conclud. 
ing extract will *give our readers some idea 
of the cruel punishments- inflicted by the 
Chinese upon their criminals. It seems 
that his worship Keu^, the chief magistratei 
received Miss Lwan's letter, and handed it 
over to the imperial censor Fan-che, who 
happened to be travelling through the coun- 
try, exercising his prerogative of reforming 
any abuses that he should meet with. Ting 
chang was commanded to appear before 
him, and on being accused and denying his 
guilt, was ordered by his excellency to have 
fifty blows with the bamboo, and to be sent to 
prison until he could make further inqui- 
ries at Nang yang ; after some days the an. 
swer came backy and-— 

'* The censor in a voice of wrath thus addressed 
him } « To treat with levity or insult the daughter 
of a Mandarin is one crime. Being already be- 
trothed to one wife, marrying another is a second 
crime. Having had adulterous intercourse leading 
to the death of a party concerned is a third crime. 
In your marriage contract it is written, if a man 
deceive the woman, may unnumbered arrows slay 
his body ! I have now no arrows here to slay thee, 
but — * added he, raising his voice, * thou shall be beat 
to death with staves like a dog, so that thou roayest 
serve as a 'warning to all cold blooded villains in 
future.* With that he shouted with a loud voice, 
as a signal to the bailiffs and lictors who were in 




waiting :--theM, grasping their cloba of bamboo, 
rushed forward m a body, and simnltaneously 
struck* the wretched culprit, pieces of whose body 
flew about the hall in all direotbns, and in a moment 
a bloody and hideous mass marked the corpse of the 
betrayer of Lwan !** 

The tale concludes with a little moral, 

* Urn 

«« Reader ! why should he thus court the wealth 
and beauty of a second bride, and turn back upon 
his previous oath 7 what really was the profit on't 7 
There is a stanza which says — « 

* Having become man and wife for a single day, 

remain man and wife for ever ! 
What can you expect to gain by deceiving a tender 

girl's too confiding heart 7 
Should you say that no vengeance awaits the false 

and cruel lover — 
Please to read this story of lasting resentment, 

which took place in bye-gone years !* " 

And so say we; and to such of our 
readers as are not Oriental scholars, we can 
recommend Mr. Thom's translation, who 
has been extremely happy in the style he 
has adopted ; and we hope that he will again 
employ the Canton press for the gratification 
of English readers. Should he do so, we 
trust that his future labour may be employed 
upon a work which contains fewer poetical 
efiusions ; for although this class of romances 
is very curious, yet they do not throw so 
much light upon the domestic manners and 
customs of the Chinese, as would be desired 
by such readers as must rely upon transla- 
tions for any insight into Chinese literature. 

•\rt. Vll— Vita d% CaUHna de' Medici^ 
Saggio Storico di Eugenic Alberi. 4to. 
Firenzcr 1888. 

Therb is rest for the relics of man in his 
tomb, but there is none for his memory. 
Posterity, as an immense jury, sits round his 
death-bed for his trial, but its sessions are 
adjourned to infinity. History issues no 
sentence that history may not repeal. Time 
fights the battles of truth, an unimpassioned 
but unwearied ally. Every hour there are 
new evidences brought forward, mysteries 
unravelled and reputations restored. En- 
vious malignity or hatred of party can never 
have laid a man's name so low, that it may 
not be lawful for any person to plead his 
cause before the nations, and call forth a 
revision of his judgment. 

• In the original it says, they made no distinc- 
tion between so| and si, or they rung all the notes 
of the g%mut upon him at the same time. 

No one will, therefore, dispute to M, Eu- 
genic Alberi the right of appearing in the 
lists as the avowed champion of Catherine 
de' Medici. No one would be even entitled 
to inquire into the motives that prompted him 
to undertake her apology, had he not, hira- 
selfi condescended to explain them. He 
informs us, that, having, in compliance with 
some person's wish, prepared himself to 
write a short biographical sketch of Henry 
II.'s queen, he was soon involved in serious 
doubts as to the rectitude of the judgments 
passed against that singular woman, that 
having in consequence studied his subject 
with more intense interest, and having re- 
course to other sources of information than 
those from which historians and biographers 
had hitherto drawn their narratives, he was 
led to reject all the opinions entertained 
about her, and resolved to try to clear her 
fame from the stains inflicted upon it, no less 
by hostile libellers than by grave and impar- 
tial historians, and to vindicate her name and 
at once that of Italy, so often and so freely 
outraged by foreigners. 

The documents consulted by him are es- 
pecially the contemporaneous reports of the 
Venetian ambassadors, over a complete edi* 
tion of which our author himself is now pre* 
siding in Florence, and the manuscripts of 
the Arckimo Mediceo which was thrown 
open to him by the munificence of the Grand 
Duke. It is, perhaps, well to observe, that 
thdt prince is keenly alive to every discovery 
that can reflect any lustre on the name of 
his Medicean predecessors, and that to the 
gratification of his royal feelings, M. Alb^ri's 
essay has been, we think, rather ungener- 
ously attributed. 

That the countrymen of M. Alberi have 
not always been fairly treated, we are by 
no means unwilling to admit, and their jus. 
tification seems to be evidently implied in 
that almost European saying, '* that the 
Italians are better than their reputation." 
The odious part of the cowardly bravo, and 
of the treacherous stabber and poisoner, 
are, in all works of fiction, invariably 
assigned to one of their nation, in accordance 
with those same rules of art (as Victor Hugo 
pleaded against his Italian challengers) by 
which the fox is always made to act the part 
of the swindler, and the cat that of the traitor, 
in the fables of ^sop. 

Those atrocious personifications of inhu. 
man monsters which have power to startle 
romantic young ladies in their sleep, of 
which we read in modern novels, but which, 
as we see nothing that resembles them in 
real life, we would feel inclined to set down 
as the work of a distempered fancy, ar- 
easily accounted for, and cease to excite • 


CdikeHi^ ifo' Meiki. 


wonder as soon as the eoantry of the dark 
misdoer is announced ; for Victor Bogo has 
taught us that there is no enorniity that we 
have not reason to expect from a man whose 
name ends in u Were not the hero an Ita* 
]ian, we should look to the inventor himself 
with a feeling of distrust and abhorrehcev 
akin to that of Frederick the Second of 
Prussia, who, having read Granelli's Dion, 
expressed a wish to hsve the poet in his 
hands, that he might hang him without re- 
spite, in order to deliver the world from the 
dangerous genius that could frame so subtle 
a plot of iniquity. 

Walter Scott himself, our amiable and 
benevolent Scott, who never was in Italy but 
in his dying days, and who had hardly seen 
any It^^lian but poor Foscolo, whom he hated 
because he was *• ugly as a baboon," — Scott 
himself, contrary to his custom, outrageously 
violated all historical truth, to represent as 
the basest of traitors the most gallant and 
accomplished knight of his age — Conrad of 
Montserrat, who, far fro.n ever conspiring 
against the life of others, fell himself a victim 
to the dagger of the assassins of the moun- 
tain, not without some susjpicion (we trust 
utterly unfounded) of some participation in 
his murder, by the jealousy of our lion- 
hearted Richard himself. 

Still it would be unjust to quarrel with a 
poet or a novelist for accommodating facts 
to suit his designs ; and we can only pity 
such of their readers (and they are a larger 
class than is generally supposed) who listen 
to those sweet illusions with blind reliance, 
and ground their belief on the authority of 
what is avowedly a work of invention. But 
history can with less scruple be called to ac- 
count ; and if it can be proved, as M. Al- 
b^ri asserts, that the French historians, 
instead of paying due honour to the memory 
of a queen, who did so much for their nation, 
have not blushed to spread and sanction the 
most injurious reports, to throw upon a for- 
eign woman the blame of the deeds of blood 
that stained their annals in thesixteenth cen- 
tury ; we must allow him a neutral ground 
in our pages, and take note of every sound 
argument he may be able to bring forward 
to her exculpation. In fact, we must request 
our readers to note that most foreign consorts 
have fared ill in all troubles of the^ state. 
We need simply indicate Catherine of Arra. 
gon, Henrietta Maria, and Marie Antoinette, 
to substantiate our position. 

We consider it our duty to confess, ere 
we enter into the subject, that of all people 
in Europe the French are the most unfair 
in their estimate of foreign nations, and es- 
pecially of Italy: we all remember with 
what venom and acrimony, whenever it 

suited their purpose to show their allegiance 
to the Bourbons, their roost distinguished 
writers hastened to abjure Buonaparte, re- 
proaching to the fallen hero his Italian 
nativity, his bilious southern temper, and his 
half African hue. We know with what 
readiness they adopted as country men' Mas- 
sena or Lagrange, perhaps because their 
names did not terminate with an «. That 
they vented in their writings their rage 
ag&inst Catherine de' Medici because she 
was too shrewd and too active to meet with 
the fate of Marie Antoinette of Austria, 
might be not altogether improbable ; but it 
would be difficult, at so late a period, to 
clear all doubts on so arduous a subject, and 
M. Albdri might boost of having accom- 
plished no inconsiderable task, if he could 
succeed to redeem, evon in part, the conduct 
of a woman to whom her bitterest adversa- 
ries never denied strength of character and 
loftiness of mind. 

It is only under an historical or a national, 
by no means under a religious point of view, 
that he examines his subject. The life of 
Catherine is not a work of polemic divinity. 
Properly speaking, a book of that kind has 
not, these many years, been published in 

While at a distance she still preserves a 
militant attitude, and causes some uneasiness 
abroad, the Church of Rome has laid doWn 
her arms at home, and trusts her cause 
solely to the support of Austria. Of that 
innumerable militia of Italian priesthood, 
there is not one pressing forward for the 
cause they have embraced. The highly 
gifted but worldly-minded prelate, surround, 
ed with luxury and vice, wants that energy 
and ardour that only conviction can give,* 
and th*> modest but ignorant curate is too 
blind himself ever to bring light upon others. 
The one class disgrace the name of religion 
by their conduct, the other by their absurd 
superstition . Hence it happens, that the few 
generous enthusiasts that still dare to raise 
a voice, not indeed for Romanism, but for a 
pure, ascetic, and, as it were, a dreaming 
Christianity, the men of the school of Man- 
zoni and Pellico, not only do not belong to, 
nor write in the spirit of, the clergy, but are 
even looked upon by them with mistrust and 
jealousy, though the closest investigation 
may not find them astray for a single mo- 
ment from the strictest orthodoxy. 

But the worst of evils, indifference, is in 
that country the order of the day : the de- 
molition of the old fabric of Romanism has 
involved in its ruins more of the sound part 
of the doctrines of Christ than a true lover 
of religion would gladly behold, and every 
mark of emancipation of religious opinions 


Catk»Hiu d^ MMci. 


has been likewiae a step to anarchy and 
scepticism. The best part of the thiuking 
classes are so deeply engrossed with their 
longings for a political change, that every 
theological question is irretrievably put off* 
as one of secondary importance, to be easily 
resumed and settled whenever the nation 
recovers the right of free discussion. The 
life of Catherine is, therefore, very far from 
being the work of a priest. M. Alb^ri, a 
Roman exile, and only by special favour 
allowed a precarious residence in Tuscany, 
is not even a votary of the regenerated, if 
not reformed Christianity of Manzoni. He 
never attempts to palliate or to excuse the 
horrors of the long bloody revenge that Ro- 
manist fanaticism wreaked upon the Hugue- 
nots of France. He only affirms that the 
French were already too greatly addicted 
and used to bloodshed, to need the influence 
of a crafty and ambitious foreign woman to 
urge them to the most dire extremes ; that 
placed between the opposite interests of 
irreconcileable parties, constantly pressed 
by suggestions and menaces from abroad, 
constantly besieged by the cannibal roar of 
a maddening populace, she was frustrated 
hi her repeated efforts to bring about a re. 
conciliation, thwarted in her sincere wish to 
remain calm and neutral among so many 
discordant elements, and at last over, 
whelmed, overturned, 'dragged along by 
the current) and compelled to choose among 
BO many evils what she considered the least. 

But whether it was religious or patriotic 
zeal, or even a feeling of gratitude towards 
the clement grand duke, that actuated M. 
Albdri to write, he has nevertheless an un. 
disputed right to be heard ; and we shall 
feel under great obligation to him, if in the 
course of our examination of his work wc 
can arrive at any important fact that may 
throw new light on that most important 
period of history. 

Few persons ever care to inquire into the 
particulars of the earliest youth of Catherine, 
few are acquainted with the hardships and 
dangers she met with in the home of her 
father, ere she reached the high station to 
which her misfortune had reared her. Ca- 
therine was born of Lorenzo, duke of. Ur- 
bino, grandson of Lorenzo il Magnifico,and 
was the niece of Pope Clement VII. By 
the order of her uncle, the young princess, 
ah orphan of both parents, was in her fifth 
year placed in the monastery Delle Murate. 
In 1527, the Florentines taking advantage 
of the distress of Clement, who- was then 
besieged by the Impefialists in the castle of 
St. Angelo, drove the Papal lieutenant from 
their city and proclaimed their independence. 
The young recluse, forgotten by her rela. 

tives, remained as a hostage in the hands of 
the enemies of the name of Medici. When 
the last extremities had come for Florence, 
tfhe was dragged out of her violated cloisters 
by those rude republicans, who were deli* 
berating whether she should be delivered 
over to popular iajj or exposed on their 
bulwarks to the imperial artillery, or given 
up to a publio house of prostitution. '* But 
the mute eloquence of her guileless chikl* 
hood," adds M. Alb^ri, *< prevailed over the 
counsel of those incensed partisans,'' and 
she was only removed to another convent, 
whose inmates were known to be better at- 
tached to the popular cause. 

In 1530, Florence capitulated, and Cathe- 
rine was sent to her uncle in Rome. Des- 
tined to serve as an instrument to the selfish 
schemes of Clement's pusillanimous policy, 
the unconscious girl had already been prof* 
fered to the Duke of Ferrara and the Prince 
of Orange. But now, seriouslv alarmed by 
the rapid progress of Charles V ., and by the 
uncontrolled ascendency he had gained over 
Italy, the ill-fated Pope destined her to a 
royal match in France, and gave her as a 
pledge of the alliance he had just contracted 
with Francis L Towards the end of the 
summer of 1533, Clement VII. sailed for 
Marseilles with a pompotis retinue, and be- 
stowed with his own hand the youthful bride 
on Henry, the King's second son.*** She 
was then aged fourteen. 

The young Princess, scarcely emancipat- 
ed from her monastic timidity, was thrown 
into a world of debauchery, such as was 
never before or after rivalled in Europe. 
The manners of Francis the First and his 
court are depicted by M. Albert with a 
shocking veracity, and we have in the docu* 
mcnts added to his narrative, a sad commen- 
tary upon what most revolted us in ** Le roi * 
s'amuse."t By dwelling so minutely on 
these particulars, the advocate of Catherine 
aimed to refute the charge laid on her name 
by the French historians, of having opened 

— ■^■■^^' ■■■ ■■ .a — ■■ »■■-■■—■■ ■■.II ■■■I .■» 

* Suriano, tho Venetian ambassador, then resid- 
ing in Rome, describes Catherine in the following 
terms ; ** Di natura anai vivace monstra gentil spi. 
rito, ben accostumata ; 4 stata educata e g ubornatm 
cum le monaohe nel monasterio delle Murate "^in 
Fiorenza, donne di molto bon nome e sancta vita ; 
d piccola dc persona, scarna, non de vito delicato, 
ha li occhi grossi propij alia oasa de' Medici.** 

t Fraq^is, par la ffrace. de Dieu, h notro aimd at 
fi^al conseillcr et tresoricr de nos cpargnes, M. Je- 
han Duval, salut et dilection. Nous voulons et 
vous mandous quo des deniers de nos cpargnes tous 
baillez compunt k Cecile de Viefville, dame dea • 
fiUt9 de joie Buivant notre cour, la somme de 45 
liv. tournoiB, que nous lui avons fait et faisons don, 
tant p<Mjr elle que pour les autres dames et fiUes de 
sa maison, a despartir entre dies qu*olIes aviseront, 
^From a MS. Royal Library, Paris. 


(kMMtu iU* Jitdicu 


a new school of sedaotion and racontineiice 
in France, and ministered to the pleasures 
of her children and courtiers, to weaken 
their intellect and enervate their soul, so as 
to keep them passive and submissive under 
her control. We think there can be no 
doubt that French corruption needed no in* 
centive from abroad, and a girl who had 
seen nothing of the world, save during the 
three years she spent with her uncle at 
Rome, must have received the first rudi- 
ments of looseness of manners rather from 
her adopted country, than from the land of 
her nativity. 

M. Alb^ri proceeds to deny to Francis I. 
the fame he had lone usurped as a patron of 
letters and arts, and reports a royal decree 
by which he gave the firet instance of a cen- 
sorship of the press in his kingdom, charges 
him with several traits of dissimulation and 
perfidy in his political tran fractions, and 
even calls in question his brilliant chivalrous 
gallantry, and destroys the authenticity of 
that sublime billet to his royal mother, after 
the disastrous battle of Pavia, '*Tout est 
perdu fors I'honneur." Hence, taking into 
consideration what more immediately be- 
longs to his subject, he demonstrates all the 
inconsistency of the conduct of that monarch 
in religious matters. He alleges the asylum 
and encouragement given by Francis to 
Erasmus, Melanchthon and Ma rot, the suc- 
cour he granted to the Genevese rebels, and, 
what is rather more to the purpose, his al- 
liance with SoHman and the lawless corsair 
of Algiers, by which he jeopardized his own 
no less than the states of his antagonists, and 
scandalized all Christendom by sufi*ering 
Barbarossa to open a mosque in his house 
at Toulon. Here M. Alb^ri, by way of 
contrast, gives due praise to the conduct of 
Charles V. who, in his African expedition, 
set equally at liberty Catholic and Lutheran 
captives, and to the generous ardour with 
which the German Protestants in their turn 
hastened to the rescu&of that emperor when 
harassed by the sultan's armies in Hungary. 
And it was this same Francis of VaJois 
who had so openly applauded the earliest 
reformers, who did not shrink from joining 
hands with the enemies of the faith, that 
kindled the first faggot to burn the heretics 
in France. On the 21st of January, 1535, 
(less than two years after the bridal of Ca> 
therine), at the head of a most solemn pro- 
cession, the king was sei^n perambulating 
the crowded quarters of Purls, in each of 
the six principal squares, there was an altar 
fbr the sacrament, a prie-^ieu for the king, 
and a pile wherein one of the heretics was to 
be slowly consumed ; for their death did not 
take place according to the ordinary and 

expeditious manner of that punishment. The 
king bad given ordere that, at a certain dis- 
tance from the pile, two beams should be 
raised somewhat in the shape of a lever, to 
one end of which the safierer was secured, and 
hence plunged and replunged into the flames 
80 as to prolong his martyrdom beyond na- 
tural endurance. M. Albiiri quotes here the 
authorities of the earliest French historians, 
and especially of Daniel, who thus concludes 
the narration of that awful butchery: — 
'^ Francois voulut, pour attirer la b^n^dic* 
tion du ciel sur sea armes, donner cet ezem- 
pie signal^ de pi6t^ et de z^le contre la nou- 
velle doctrine. 

The horrid and numberless slaughters 
which signal ia^ed the extinction of the Wal* 
denses of Provence in 1645, in consequence 
of a parliamentary decree, are not calcu- 
lated to inspire us with a more favourable 
opinion of the natioa'than the autos daft of 
Paris have given us of the monarch ; and 
we must here be permitted to observe, that 
a superior state of cultivation had hitherto 
preserved Italy from witnessing such scenes 
of summary execution. 

Italians seemed to have an instinctive 
fVT^boding of the endless divisibility of sects ; 
still they evinced the greatest horror for 
religious persecution. It was not until the 
middle of the sixteenth century, under the 
pontificate of Paul III , that the first attempts 
were made for a revival of the Dominican 
Inquisition ; and even then the governments 
of Ferrera, Venice, and Tuscany, as well 
as the population of Milan, Naples, and even 
of Rome, made a long and generous stand 
against it, qp r ever did that fieital institution 
so thrive in that country as it did in the 
more congenial soil of Spain. For the sake 
of truth be it allowed, the Italians have been, 
in fact, in all times, of all nations in Europe, 
the least guilty of blood -shedding in religious 

** Oh ! amongf the horrible rancours," exclaims 
the eloquent Manzoni, " that divided Italians from 
Italians, this, at least, is not known. The passions 
that have made enemies of us, did not, at least* 
abide behind the veil of the Banctaary. It \m bat 
too true we find in every page of our annals enmi- 
ties sent down from generation to generation for 
wretched interests, and vengeance preferred to our 
own safety. We find in them, at every step, two 
parts of 'a nation fiercely disputing for the buprfr- 
macy, and for advantages which, at the end, for a 
great lesson, remained to neither. We find our 
ancestors wasting their forces in obstinate attempts 
to make slaves of such as might have been ardent 
and faithful friends ; we read in tiiem a frightful 
series of deplorable combats, but none, at least, like 
those of Cappel, Jarnac, and Prague. True, from 
this unfortunate land much bloud will rise in judg. 
ment, but very little that has been spilt for the sake 
of religion ; little, I say, when compared with what 
stained the other parts of Europe. The furies and 


Caihenne de MMei. 


calftiniUm of other naUon* give ns the sad advan* 
tage of calling tliat blood bat little ; but the blood 
of a single man shed by the hand of his brother is 
too moeh for all ages and countries.** * 

It was not then from a Florentine monas- 
tery, nor even from the Roman Court of 
Clement VI I. , that Catherine needed to de- 
rive her first lessons of religious intolerance. 
But the atrocities that fell under her eyes at 
the court of Francis did not always spring 
from a religious source. Sehastiano Monte- 
cuccoli, a knight from Ferrara, was quar- 
tered alive, as convicted of having poisoned 
the Dauphin, whose sudden death took place 
at Lyons in August, 1536. An avowal of 
his pretended guilt was wrenched from him 
by the infliction of torture. In his incohe- 
rent disclosures he named Antonio de Leyva 
and other lieutenants of Charles V* as the 
instigators of the murder. The general im- 
pression at the time, however, and the testi- 
mony of the physicians, was, that the poor 
wretch had suffered unjustly, and that the 
prince died '' by the visitation of God." It 
was only, after more than a century, Idly 
conjectured that Catherine, then in her seven- 
teenth year, had by that crime removed the 
only obstacle to the future exaltation of her 
husband. M. Alb^ri deemed it useless to 
refute this accusation, which even the French 
reject as a calumny. 

During that period the future arbitress of 
the destinies of France was far from being 
an object of envy. Placed between the 
Duchess of Ecampes, mistress of Francis, 
and Diane de Poitiers, her own husband's 
old favourite,'*' deprived of all natural friends, 
because the jealousy of the French ministers 
had, from her first arrival, sent back all her 
Italian suite, she was, until the death of 
Francis I., in 1547 ; and again, till the fatal 
tournament of 1559, to which Henry II.j- 
fell a victim, the most insignificant person 
at court. 

That twenty years of wounded feminine 
pride, the insolence of worthless minions, the 
neglect and contempt she had to endure, 
may have exasperated Catherine's highly 
susceptible soul, we can easily conceive, and 
we equally understand that the long school 
of dissimulation in which her situation trained 
her, and the example of a court, in all ages 

* * Manzoni, dclla Morale Cattolica, cap. iii. 

t She was still the reigning beauty when she died 
in his 60tb year. 

t ** Diana, cum jam inclinata essct astate, phil. 
trift et magicis, ut creditur^ artibus, adeo sibi ani- 
mum Henrici devinxit, ut is nunquam' alienata vo- 
lantate ad exitum usque in amorc illo constanter 
perscveraverit." — De Thou. I. iii. Henry wore 
Diana*s colours at the tournament, where he fell by 
the band of Montgomery. 

VOL. XXVI. 11 

renowned for intrigue, must have more 
powerfully contributed to teach her the arts 
of a crooked and darkling policy, than what 
the French call the '* native acutenessof the 
country nien of Machlavelli." 

Catherine, at the opening of her long and 
tempestuous career, (observes her defender,) 
found her own and her young children's 
safety, no less than the peace and security 
of France, endangered by the factions of 
two families of the royal blood — the Guises 
and the Bourbons, whose power and ambi- 
tion had gradually increased under the gov- 
ernment of her indolent and imbecile hus- 
band, and which knew no limits after his 
death. The queen-mother, unable to resist 
the pretensions of the two rival houses, and, 
on account of the preponderance of the 
Guises at the time, being scarcely allowed 
any choice, yielded to these last, and called 
them to the head of her government. The 
Bourbons, who did not find in their own re- 
sources the means of attacking the new 
coalition, espoused ^he cause of the Hugue- 
nots, with whom (asserts M. Albdri upon 
the rather questionable authority of Davila) 
their interests bound them rather than true 
religious sympathy, and urged them to make 
a stand for their liberty of conscience* 

That neither the Cond6 nor the Bour- 
bons nor, on the other side, the fanatical Gui- 
ses, felt warmly attached to the religious 
tenets for which they lavished the best 
blood of France, ana that both parties 
availed themselves of the zeal of deluded 
bigots to promote their own worldly ad- 
vantages, the course of events sufilciently 
demonstrated. But the opinion of Davila, 
who mentions the Admiral Coligni as be- 
'me the first author of that rebellious coun- 
sel by which religion was made subs^r* 
vient to political views, is, we think, nei- 
ther well founded on facts, nor consistent 
with the subsequent conduct of that old 
hero, nor can we approve M. Alb^ri for 
having, even for a moment, countenanced 

Meanwhile, bloodlwas for the first time 
treacherously spilt by the Catholic party 
at Amboise in 1560; and however that 
tragical deed may be pretended to have 
been provoked by the secret preparations, 
or by the menacing attitude of the Pro- 
testants, there is no doubt that, in civil 
contentions, all the infamy falls on him 
that strikes the first blow, and who is 
the last to lay down the sword. 

In this first act of violence Catherine 
had no part. She had already conceived 
serious alarms at the overbearing ascen- 
dency of the Guises, and could have no 


Coikeriiu de' MtAki. 


interest in the otter annihilation of the 
party that alone could still counterbalance 
them. She is represented by her biogra- 
pher, as actively employed in defeating 
the violent schemes of these her danger- 
ous allies, warning, through the organ of 
the Duchess of Montpensier, the Princes 
of Conde and Navarre of impending dan- 
gcES, and finally proposing the interview 
of Poissy, which as it is always the case 
in religious controversies, had no better 
effect than to administer new subjects 
of discord to those incensed spirits. 

Meanwhile, Philip II. of Spain, whose 
lieutenants were soon to turn the Nether- 
lands into a vast burning pile, threatened 
an invasion of France ; Pius IV. offered 
men and subsidies for the total extinction 
of heresy ; the Inquisitors and Jesuits of 
all countries accused the queen mother 
of lukewarmness in the defence of the 
faith. That Catherine was hitherto really 
abhorrent from persecution, and always 
willing to put forward new schemps of 
reconciliatiout seems incontrovertibly to 
resalt from the following letter to the 
pope, quoted from the Bethune manu- 
scripts in the Royal Library at Paris, vol. 
8476 :— 

. • . ** Conridemit done, trta.JAmt Ptoe, combien 
est mud le nombrc de ceux qui te lont s^pards 
del*Egli8e Romainc, ilestimpoFBiblc de lee rdduire 
ni par la lois ni par lea armeii : de« noblos, dea ma. 
gittrata attirent la foule )i eetto eroyanca par lear 
Azenple. Heureuflement, dana oet eloignement 
pour kome, il ne a^efit 61eT^ aucuiie opinion mon. 
atrucuse, anabaptistc on antitrinitaire, toateB recon- 
ikaiiiBent les douze symboles apoetoliqnes ; qao 6i on 
Muvait lea accorder, cc wrait le meiUear moyen de 
ibndre lee deux Egliaea. Pour arriver & ce rcaultat, 
n'^taiUil pas util de muHiplier lea confcrcncea, de 
demander dee predications de paiz et de charity ? 
lifautaussi eviterquc par una obsiination roalheor- 
euco on s€parc encore ceux qui tiennent it I'E^iae Ca^ 
toliquif. Je Tooa propoeerai auMi, trte-iaint Pere, de 
tupprimn U eulte dea tsMgaa, de ne plus coufcrcr 
le bapt^me que par Teau et la parole ; la cominu. 
nion nerait donnee sous deux esp^ces, on chanterait 
Ua paeaumea en kmgue vulgairt^ & ceux qui vien- 
droient pour B*approcher it la Sainte-Table ; enfin 
on abolirait la fdte du Saint-Sacrameot, parce cue 
cette f6te eet de toua lee jours et de lous leg 
tempa, etc. etc."* 

'f In the same time, I'Ho^pital, her chan- 
cellor, wrote to the Calvinists at Geneva, 
praising, in the king's name, the purity of 
their motives, and the rectitude of their 
principles, exhorting them, in the same 
time to moderate *^ la malice d'aucuns pr6- doraiatisans, laplupar^ envoy^s 
de vous ou de principauz roin^*^'®* ^^ 
votre ville, les quels, abusant ^^ nom, 

* A moA excellent and aenaible epiatle, and it 
^ould have pieaerred Rome had it been conceded. 

titre et puret6 de la religion dont ils se 
disent bien professes, s^ment en les esprits 
de nos sujets une danmable desobcissance 
tant par les libeiles et les diffamationd* que 
par les pr^ches qu'ils ont 6tabli," 

Meanwhile hostilities broke out in 
every part of the kingdom, Francis Duke of 
Guise having again given the signal by his 
massacre of Vassy. Spain and Savoy on 
the one side, England and Grermany on the 
other, advanced to the support of their al- 
lies. Blood was shed with various fortune 
at Rouen, Dreux and Orleans, until the prin* 
cipal leaders of both factions being either 
dead or prisoners, and the Duke of Guise 
having fallen by the hand of an assassin, the 
queen was enabled to sign the peace of Am- 
boise, March 19th, 1563. Having thus re- 
stored peace to the kingdom, on tolerably 
equal terms,*** she abdicated her regency in 
favour of Charles IX,, then scarcely four- 
teen years old. 

War was rekindled soon after, and the 
chivalry of Frnnce displayed on the fields of 
Jarnac and Montcontour a valour that would 
have been better employed in a more gene- 
rous contest. The two parties, wearied out 
with long exertions, came to a second defi* 
nitive accord at St. Germain, August 8th, 

The King, Catherine, and the Cardinal 
of Lorraine received, before and after the 
stipulation of that treaty, the most severe 
reprimands from Pius V. and Philip IL, 
both now warmly bent on a universal estab- 
lishment of the Inquisition, and on the utter 
extermination of Protestantism. The pope 
incessantly returned to his favourite maxim, 
that *' nullo modo, nullisque de causis, bos- 
tibus Dei parcendum est/' and that the ene- 
mies of true religion were to be fought 
against ** ad internecionem usque." 

The proposed marriage of the king with 
a daughter of Maximilian II. of Germany, 
of one of her sons with Elizabeth of Eng- 
land, and finally, of the young king of Na« 
varre with Margaret of Valois her daughter, 
are alleged by M. Albdri as evident proofs 
of the good faith of Catherine during that 
reconciliation. The death of Joan of Al- 
bref, Henry of Navarre's mother, which has 
often been considered as the work of Cathe- 
rine, is by him attributed Ho natural causes, 
on the authorities of Davila, of the Presi* 

, ♦ '• The free exereise of the new worship waa 
allowed in any place but at Paria and ita jurisdic. 
tion, where, however, no one sfaoold be molcatcd on 
account of hia religion. The king received both 
Catholica and Proteatanta under hia protection, 
conaidering them all as true and loyal eubjecta,** 
«tc. &c.— y. Edict et Declaration faite par le Roy 
CharUa XL Paria, 1563. [Printed by Jean Da. 


C^tUrin^dt' JVMfct. 

dent de Thou,* of Cayet's ** Gbronobgie 
Dovennaire*" dated 1572, and finally, of Vol- 
taire himaelf, who haa said in hts Henriade, 
ch. ii. :— 

** Je ne rait point injiute, et je ne pretens pas 
A M^decifl encore imputer son titpas.** 

Meanwhile Charles IX. held serious con. 
saltations wiih Louis of Nassau and the 
Adnniral Coligny, for an intended invasion 
of Belgium, and opened new negoliations 
for an alliance with England and Germany.'}' 
All these demonstrations, not only of a sin- 
cere wish for the continuation of peace, but 
even of evident partiality in favour of the 
Protestant insurgents in Flanders, have ne- 
ver been called in question by the most bit- 
ter detractors of Catherine, but they have 
been hitherto almost unanimously turned to 
her greater disparagement, as so many trea- 
sonable snares, by which the royal party 
wished to lay asleep every suspicion in the 
mind of the Huguenots and allure them al- 
together into Paris, where they might be 
easily butchered at one stroke. A simulta. 
neous massacre of alt the Protestants in the 
kingdom is said to have been resolved upon 
at the famous interview^ of Bayonue, in 
June, 1565. Catherine, who had refused to 
meet Philip II. of Spain, when invited by 
htm the year before to a congress in Nantz, 
to provide for a universal eradication of he- 
resy, now, in her turn, proposed a rendez- 
vous with that monarch, who sent in his 
stead his queen. Isabel of France (Cathe- 
rine's daughter), and his plenipotentiary, the 
Duke of Alva4 From the meeting of 
Bayonne to Sc. Bartholomew's eve, an inter- 
val of seven years elapsed, during which 
the court seemed often determined, appa- 
rently at least, to bring about a reaction in 

favour of Protestantism. 

* — — — ■ ,1 

* ** CorpoBe tamen diiwecto, ahscessas in latere 
•inistro repertue est ez nimia htigactone oontraetns 
qoo earn periieae retuleront medloi, scripto de ea 
re pubIicato.'*^rA«anM, lib. Izi. 

t «< In 1569 the Freneh, in league with Spain and 
the Pope, had attempted to harl Elizabeth of Eng- 
land Crom her throne ; in the summer of 1579 they 
cntored into a league with this very queen to wrest 
the Netherlands from Spain.**^See Rankest HUU 
cf the Popes^ B, v. } 5. He however derives from 
these facts other consequences than M. Alb^ri's, 
and by no means faTounble to the fame of Cathe- 

t ** The alliance between the French and the 
Spaniards, which was contracted at Bayonne in 
1565» and the tenns there agreed upon, haytf been 
the subjects of much discussion. Of all that has 
been said about them, thus much only u certain , 
that the Duke of Alya exhorted the Queen of 
France to get rid of the leaders of the Huguenots 
by fair means or foul, and for ever.** — Ranke, B. v. 
4 5, loe. eit. Thequeen*s answer, or her determi- 
nations on these suggestions, remained then a secret. 

) How §BLT this show of amicable disposi. 
tions is to be deemed sincere, or what in. 
coneeivably dark and deep premeditation of 
crime it may have served to palliate, is the 
main pointof oontroversyon which the fame 
of Catherine essentially depends* From 
the solution of this problem alone, it most 
result whether her tolerant and coociiiatoiy 
spirit and superiority of genius placed her 
far above the ferocious bigotry of her age, 
or whether indeed her policy was of so fieod- 
ish a nature as to be matched by no other 
act of mortal perfidiousness. 

The above quoted letters to Rome aod 
Geneva seem a sufficient evidence that she 
entertained no implacable animosity against 
the Protestant innovators ; and if we must 
give her any credit for political foresight^ 
she cannot have been blind to the fact, that 
however civil insubordination might have 
been the natural consequence of religious 
rebellion on the part of the Hugumots, yet 
the greatest dangers were to be apprehended 
from the designing Catholic leaders, if sjlie 
delivered their adversariea, as an easy prey, 
into their hands, A prudent and dexterous 
impartiality would then have been no less 
the most humane than the safest line of 
conduct that remained for her to pursue ; 
and by this earnest desire, by this deeply •felt 
necessity of counterpoi.«(ing the two rival 
factions, she seems to have been consistently 
actuated, even long before she is believed 
by her accusers to have bent her soul on 
her definitive coup-d'6tat. The obvious 
cdntradiction implied by the diffecent charges 
brought against her seemed to have struck a 
good number of modern writers^ who did 
not hesitate to express their belief that to 
the unfeminine ferocity that characterised 
her nature, Catherine added all the fickle- 
ness and volatility of ker sex, and that by 
shifting her plans so as to accommodate 
them to circumstances, she involved herself 
in a maze of difilculties, from which she 
could only free herself by a deed of despair. 
The testimonials to which M. AlbM has 
recourse to prove the earnestness and sin- 
oerity of Catherine in her inclination to- 
wards the Protestants are drawn from some 
documents collected by the French historiaoy 
M. Capefigue, in the Spanish archives at 
Simancas, and what he brought himself into 
light from the Jirchiveo Mediceo* 

M, Capefigue produced a series of let- 
ters from the Spanish ambassade at Paris, 
to Philip II., dated 1571, 1572, by which 
the alarmed minibters give an account of the 
new feelings prevalent at court in favour of 
the Huguenots and of the preparatives for 
an invasion both of Ftanders and Spain. 

The I'uscan papers, drawn fror 


C^itherim d€'M0dui. 


Medioean archives, contain the eorrespon* 
dence between the Duke Cosimo I. and his 
legatet at Paris. It appears that the court 
of France offered not only to gratify him, 
in sanctioning his titles to the crown of Tus- 
cany, but even to aid* him in his conquest of 
Corsica, and to bestow honours and estates 
on his relations in Francet provided he would 
consent secretly to succour the Flemish in- 
surgents. It appears that as the duke, who, 
surrounded as he was by the forces of Spain, 
dreaded the vengeance of Philip II., refused 
to enter into her views, and, on the contrary, 
sent important subsidies to the Spanish 
monarch for his wars of FlanderSf Catherine 
loaded him with the' most violent reproaches, 
while the duke refused to yield himself to 
equal overtures on the part of England, and 
received cordial thanks from Spain for his 
k>yalty and devotion. These letters bear- 
ing date of July and October, 1572, have a 
visible tendency to demonstrate that if there 
was a secret understanding between Cathe- 
rine and Philip of Spain, their simulation 
must have been carried far beyond the limits 
of discretion, and even where it would have 
been uncalled for and dangerous. As a last 
and conclusive proof of this assertion, M. 
Alberi adds that the court of France had in 
fact already granted some aids to the Or- 
ange party in Flanders, though only under 
semblance of volunteers and fugitives, and 
that several engagements had already taken 
place, when, towards the beginning of July 
(1572) the Seigneur de Genlis crossed the 
frontier vcith 4000 men, hastening to the 
rescue of the fortress of Mons, which was 
then closely besieged by the Duke of Alva. 
The expedition proved however unsuccess- 
ful ; Qenlis was surprised on the 12th, and 
completely routed by a Spanish detachment 
The court of France interceded for the re- 
lease of the prisoners. 

Petrucci, the Tuscan ambassador, thus 
writes to his duke, of the date of July 23 : 

** Queiti consigUeri hanno oggi tenuto parlamento 
per il riacatto dei gentiluomini che bodo rimasti pri. 
gionieri nella rotta di Gianlis, e non so come il re 
si powa aeeordare a queata domanda aenza dar 
l^iaodiaaima ombra al re CattoUco, e tattavia ne fa 
ogni maggioro Istanza.V'* 

And again on the 20th of August : 

•< E eonipano qoi un gontiluomo Borgognone dal 
Duca d' Alva, con aapreaia cummisaione d* inten- 
dere la volontli del re poi chd nello lettere di S. M. 

• " The couneilion have to day deliberated about 
the raneom of the gentlemen made prieoneiB at the 
defeat of Genlia, nor do I know bow the king cAn 
grant thia request, without giving the greatest sus- 
picion to the Catholic king ; and yet be ahows great 
interest in (he matter.** 

a qnel duca ri vede una eoaa, e nel detto di Gianlis 
8C ne conoace un altra.*'* 

The last letter is dated August 23d. Tlie 
Admiral Coligny, it will be remembered, was 
shot at on the morning of the 22d. 

*' II gentiluomo del Duca d* AWa ha significato 
jeri a queete MM., che si sentono e in Guascogna e 
altrove nuovi ordini di far soldati, e che questo 
bisogna che si dismetta o che altrimenti ii duca 6 
forxato a pensare a casi suoi d* altia maniera ; e pare 
ancora che roglia di nuovo la volontli di questo re 
sopra il caso di Gianlis, perchd il detto di quel pri- 
gione non concorda con cid che S. M. ha scritto a 

Suelduca; e ai dice che queita nuoTa risposta si 
omanda a 8. M. Criat. d*ordine del re Catto]ico.**t 

The papers seem to M. Albdri to destroy 
every probability of any good understand- 
ing existing between the two courts of Spain 
and France, on the very eve of that bloody 
catastrophe which was suppossed to have 
been matured ever since the first meeting of 
Catherine with the Duke of Alva in 1^5. 
Indeed Catherine has been partly absolved 
from that deed of darkness even by Profes- 
sor Sanke, to whom has never been imputed 
any partiality to her memory* 

•« It ia indeed ceitain,'* he says, <• that Catherine 
de* Medici, while she entered with zeal and cordi. 
ality into the policy ^nd plans of the dominant 
party, which favoured her viewa, at least in so far as 
they speared calculated to advance her youngest 
aon, Alen9on, to the throne of England, yet had 
every thing in preparation to carry into execution a 
contrary stroke of policy. She used every art to 
draw the Huguenots into Pans ; numerous as they 
were, they here found themselves surrounded and 
held in check by a far larger population, which was 
in a state of military organization and fiinatical ex- 
citemcnt. She had previously given the pope toler- 
ably clear intimations what her intentions were; 
but had she stUI hesitated, the oircamstancca whidi 
occurred at this moment must have decided her 
line of conduct at once. The Huguenots won over 
the king, and appeared to supplant her influence 
over him. This personal danger put an end to all 
delay. With that resistless and magical power, 
which she possessed over her children, she. re- 
awakened all the slumbering fanaticism of hereon. 
It cost her but one word to rouse the populace to 
arms, and that word she spoke." 

Catherine, therefore, by the confession of 

>■ I .. m ill I ■■■I.I.I .--I 

* *' A Burgundian gentleman has arrived to-day, 
a messenger from the Duke of Alva, with an ex. 

{iress order to hear the king's mind, as his majesty's 
etters are far from agreeing with the words of 

t '* The ffent]eman*of the Duke of Alva has de- 
clared to their majesties that orders for levying 
troops are heard of in Gascony and elsewhere, but 
this must not be, or else the duke will take different 
measures for himself. It appears also that he asks 
again the king's intentions on that affair of Genlis, 
because the words of that prisoner are not in accord, 
ance with what his majesty wrote to the duke ; and 
I hear that this new demand is made by the order 
of the Catholic king to his most Christian majesty.'* 


dt* Medici, 


an honest and enlightened Protestant, may 
have previously felt that she had the means, 
may even, perhaps, have contemplated the 
necessity, of appealing to popular fanaticism ; 
she may, in a moment of jealous misgiving, 
have come to the fatal resolution ; but it can- 
not be proved that she dwelt on and cherish- 
ed her crime with all the perseverance of a 
septennial premeditation. Nor were per- 
haps the circumstances alluded to by M, 
Ranko of such a nature as to decide her to 
the deed. That the submissiveness of the 
king and the queen's authority continued still 
unabated, sufficiently appears from the testi- 
monials of the Venetian and Tuscan ambas- 
sadors, as quoted by M* Alberi ;'*' and indeed 
we should wish to ask of M. Ranks how a 
mother, who thought her authority insuffi- 
cient to alienate her son's mind from the 
Huguenots' friendship, could then so easily 
hope to induce him to deliver them over to 
a general execution ? M. Albdri next wishes to 
prove that if she had no necessity, or indeed 
no interest, neither had she any wish to speak 
that word; but that even if the signal 
of the massacre was given by her, she 
was urged to it against her judgment 
and will by the two all-powerful agents, to 
which all evil is, from its origin, to be attrib- 
uted, the vindictiveness and atnbition of the 
Guises* faction, and the unrelenting invete- 
racy of the people. 

Of the bloody-minded disposition of the 
French, and more especially of the Parisian 
populace, he gives us but too long and pain- 
ful a series of evidences. In a copious ex. 
Uact from a ^* Journal Of the year 1562," 
found among the manuscripts of the Royal 
Library at Paris, he gives us the particulars 
of the almost daily murders, by stabbing and 
hanging, and drowning and burning ; the 
pillaging and razing of houses; the breaking 
open of cemeteries to unbury and scatter the 
relics of the dead, and similar horrors com- 
mitted by day and night, in open defiance of 
the law and its ministers, almost under the 
king's eyes, and in spite of his armed inter- 
ference. He dwells on the stubborn reluct- 
ance 6f the Parliament to sanction Cathe- 
rine's conciliatory decrees, and the frequent 
occurrences in which she found herself even 
obliged to resort to coercive measures to 
bend them to her will . He enumerates the 
many complicated circumstances that had 
contributed to increase and envenom that 

* " Quanto alle retioluzioni si riporta in tutto alia 
madre .... niun figlianlo fa mai piiiobbedientc di 
lot.** — Retat, of the Ambtus. Correro, 

** Sia di necessiUi inlertcnerai la regina e in qaolla 
(ar fondamento per chd in affetto lei d il maestro di 
bottega.** — Lett. Ambois. petrueci. 

blind Catholic rancour since the peace of 
1 570. The constant incitements from the 
Roman and Spanish governments, and the 
contagious example of fierce persecutions in 
Flanders, the fiery discourses of the Jesuits 
and missionaries, the hate-breathing admo- 
nitions of the Sorbonne, the frequent recur- 
reoee of storms and inundations which were 
taken as so many hints of the vengeance of 
Heaven for that unnatural alliance between 
a Catholic court and the excommunicated 
heretics — the solemn and somewhat appall* 
iog appearance of the Huguenots, as they 
marched into Paris, in arms, and the marks 
of the unbounded favour they enjoyed at 
court, and their bold and haughty look of 
martial assurance, and the unusual ceremo- 
nies adopted for the celebration of the nup- 
tials of Margaret of France and Henry of 
Navarre, on the I6th of August, and the just 
but fatal repugnance of this king and his 
suite to hear a mass, when the murmuring of 
the incensed multitude accompanied them ail 
the way from Notre Dame to the Louvre. 

Only four days after that inauspicious 
wedding the Admiral Coligny was wounded 
by Maurevel. Nearly all historians agree 
in casting on Henry of Guise all the blame 
of that first aggression. The king and his 
mother seem to have been so powerfully af- 
fected by it, that few ever dared to entertain 
a belief that the most consummate hypocrisy 
could ever so perfectly assume the appear • 
ance of genuine feeling. 

It is not difficult to perceive that such a 
pfemature and unsuccessful attempt could 
have no better result than to disperse in a 
fright the Huguenots whom, it is said, it had 
cost the court so much pain to unite and re- 
assure, and thereby render the intended mas- 
sacre wholly impracticable, or at least warn 
them of their danger and put them on their 

Be it as it may, the rashness of Guise, 
who besides his anxiety of avenging his fii- 
ther's deathj saw the rapid decrease of his 
importance at court, hurried all things for the 
worst. On the one side the Parisian rab- 
ble, excited by that scanty foretaste of blood, 
was raging and storming under the very' walls 
of the palace, on the other the Huguenots 
broke forth into loud complaints and mena- 
ces. The hour of slaughter had struck. 

On the morrow a council was hastily 
convoked out of the king's presence, and 
only presided over by Catherine, The 
queen (here M. Albdri quotes the M^moires 
du Marechal de Tavannes, an enraged Ca- 
tholic) was wavering between different 
thoughts. She was to choose between a 
civil war or a sudden execution. Had 

Cmlk9iinB dt' MtHeL 


been in ber power io give up the perpetrators 
of the attempt against Oolignyi certainly 
she would not have obeyed the necessity of 
the present nioaient» but the Duke of Guise 
was too far above ber reasb : the vicissi- 
tudes of the war of the League proved long 
afterwards how much the court had reason 
to dread his popularity. Necessity suggest, 
ed the death of the admiral and nis princi- 
pal partisans. Tavannes and the queen in. 
terceded for Cond6 and Navarre. The 
Duke of Guise was charged with the execu- 
tion. Catherine said (so M. Ranke con- 
cludes the above quoted remarks) ** that she 
only wished for the death of six men, and 
tlie charge of their death alone would she 
take upon her conscience. The number of 
the victims was fifty thousand." 

It would be impossible for us to follow the 
long train of arguments brought forward by 
M. Albdri, with a view to extenuate, or, as 
he flaUers himself, to annihilate Catherine's 
guilt in that tremendous transaction. We 
must refer our readers to the book itself, 
with a frank avowal that our own persua- 
sion, if not entirely altered, has been, at 
least, forcibly shaken. It has been the lot 
of that fatal woman never to have her con- 
duct rationally and impartially judged. The 
Protestants could hardly be expected to re- 
late with calmness and equity an event that 
had so suddenly and so finally blasted their 
hopes of success in France ; and the Catho- 
lics, in the exultation of their lamentable 
victory, in their obvious protestations of 
gratitude, exaggerated the skill and heroflm 
of a queen who had, perhaps in spite of 
hereelf^ done so much for their cause; and 
when a long lapse of years and the all-ab- 
sorbing importance of politics had damped 
the enthusiasm . of religious opinions, criti- 
cism found the annals of her reign involved 
in such a maze of contradiction and exagge- 
ration that no human effort could any longer 
succeed fully to extricate. 

The leuers of the Venetian, Tuscan, and 
Roman ambassadors, those among M. Al- 
b^ri's documents which seem to u^ most 
likely to excite Uie reader's curiosity, seem 
to determine beyond all doubts that Coligny 
fell a victim to the vengeance of Guise ;* 
that had he been killed on the spot, the utter 
discouragement of his followers might have 
rendered any further efiusbn of blood un- 

* " Questa tiagedia'* (the asBMsinatlon of tho 
Duke of Gaise at filoi«) 6 molto relaliva a quella 
deir ammiraglio dl Coligni. Poicb6 chi coei 
capidamente ecrco la morto di lui ; chi la tram 6 
con insidiu . « v . . . . questo stetdo ^ dalo nella 
ragna nel raedeeimo modo.*'— Lett, of Cavrtana, 
Tuaoan legate, eto. 

necessary,* and that, as the words of M. 
Ranke imply, popular passions widely over- 
shot the mark to which the court would 
have carried their fell execution. 

And if so much can, at so great a distance, 
and under so many unfavourable ciroom- 
stances, be historically demonstrated, '* what 
becomes," we must ask with M. Alb^ri, 
** what becomes of that Irime Italien spoken 
of by Mezerai and Lacretelle— H>f that un- 
generous accusation of two historians, who, 
penetrated, as it seems, with all the infamy 
of that hideous carnage, sedulously attempt 
to throw upon the name of another country 
a crime, of which, had not even the fint 
thought been, as it was, entirely French, the 
execution alone, which was undoubtedly the 
work of French hands, would be sufficient 
to stigmatize that nation for ever, and hush 
on their lips any alluswn so painful to na- 
tional reminiscences." 

Truly the Italians have men to the world 
terrible examples of popular resentment in 
the '*- Sicilian vespers," and '* Veronese mas- 
sacres ;" but the dagger was in these events 
aimed at the breast of an insolent and over- 
bearing foreign soldiery, whilst the horrors 
of St. Bartholomew's eve stand unrivalled 
by any people but the French themselves,^ 
who in the night of September 3, 1792, 
without tho instigation of a foreign queen, or 
of- foreign priests or pope, outdid, by a wide 
interval, all their former exploits ^ 

During all the rest of her life, Catherine 
caused her sons Charles IX. and soon after- 
wards Henry III. to follow that same sys- 
tem of policy by which she perceived tliat 
their crown and their very existence could 
best be secured. The disaster of St. Bar- 
tholomew's eve having broken that equi- 
librium ihat she had ever laboured to esta- 
blish between the two contending factions, 
she found herself, as she must have easily 
foreseen, utterly at the mercy of the Guises 
and of their allies of Rome and Spain. She 
lefl nothing unattemptcd to reassure the cou. 
rage of the disheartened Huguenots, and to 
soften the impression that the tidings of that 
horrid event had made at the Protestant 
courts.t She favoured the flight of the 

* ** Se 1' archibagiata ammazaara subito T am. 
miraglio non mi risolvo a credere ohe ai foesc fatto 
tanto a an pezzo.*' — SaWiati, Nupzio Apost Lett. 
Aug. 24. 

" Ripeto cho se 1* ammiraglio moriva subito non 
at ammazzaTa altri, ma non eBsendo morto, o dubi- 
tandoei di qualche gran male, fu deliberato di but- 
tar la vergogna da banda e di farlo ammazzare 
insicme con Ji altri c quella notto medesima la cosa 
fo maudata in csccuziono.** — SalviaU, Lett, without 
a date. 

t <* II nostro Bcgretario Albertani ha ritratto da 
Gianzaleazzo Fregoio (allora tomato di Germania) 


Caikifine cfe* Media, 


King of Navarre* when she thought the 
Huguenots fainted in war for the want of a 
leader, and is said to have suggested to him 
the propriety of an open recantation of the 
Catholic tenets, to which he was helieved to 
have been converted during the first terrors 
of the massacre. 

The peace of August, 1573, and that of 
May, 1576, were, in the opinion of her 
panegyrists, the result of her indefatigable 
exertions, and unequalled abilities. But the 
advantage that the Catholics had gained 
from that fatal coup.d'6tat which Catherine, 
it was said, was so earnestly bent upon 
bringing about, gave them an ascendency 
and inspired them with a boldness that 
foiled her most prudent Contrivances. Soon 
the court appeared lukewarm and partial in 
the eyes of the insatiable multitude ; new 
conspiracies for reproducing the dark scenes 
of the night of the twenty-fourth of August 
could not be repressed by the court without 
considerable difficuity.f All the zeal and 
severity of Sixtos V. himself could not sat« 
isfy them, and serious deliberations were 
held at Paris as to the expediency of hurling 
him from the chair of St. Peter.$ The 
Duke of Guise, in his heart almost an infidel, 
and the members of his family, had sufRcient 
hypocrisy to take advantage of the turbulent 
fanaticism of the people. Long time since 
that house had given unequivocal hints of 
aspiring to the throne, to which their direct 
descent from Charlemagne was supposed to 
give them a title. They gave the universal 
discontent union and scope, and the Holy 
League was organized all over the king- 
dom. Against that formidable association 

che Delia sua gita d' Alemaena ha disposto a modo 
\z materia che « assicura della conolusione fra li 
principi d* Alemagna e questa Corona. . . . Ritor. 
nert fone dal Palatino e dal Daoa di SasMmia an. 
cora, tal chd le coie b' aecomoderanno a suo eiu* 
dicio, il che non piacer& panto al re Cattolico." — 
Corrisp. dell* Alamanni, Dec. 1572. 

* " Non manca chi dubiti che la Regina Madre 
artifiziosamonte abbia fatto partire il Ro dt Navarra 
di Corte .... ora piu che mai ipera la quieta del 
Regno."— Corrisp. dell' Alamanni. Feb. 11, 1575. 

t Le cose di qua aono ancor tanto tenere che 
ogffi in Parigi b* era dato ordine di far naoYa 
tolicTizione contro gli Ugonotti e senza U rimedio 
dato anbito dal Doca di Nevers e dal moreaciallo dl 
Tavennea, in asaenza del Rb forae aeffiiiva.— Lett, 
de Alamanni, Tus. Ambass. Nov. 20, 1573. 

t " Diea none a delivrd d*an mechant pape et 
politique, a'il ent vecu plus longtemps, on eut M 
bien ^tonn^, d*ouir pnftcher dana Paris contre le 
Pape, maia il Teut fall a faire.** — ^M^moir de la 

'« II traveraait ai Tiaiblement la Liguo, que lea 
Eapagnola le menac^rent de protester contre lui, 
ct de ponnrotr par d*autrea voiea 4 la conaervation 
de r£gliaa.'*-^Maimbuurg, Hiat de la Reforme. 

Henry III. tkad no other means of resistance 
than to follow his mother's advice, which 
was to appear to countenance the League 
with his royal support, and to espouse their 
cause as his own. This stratagem saved 
the state for a few years ; but the artful and 
designing Guises soon made the people 
aware of the insincerity of the court, and 
the first attempt of Henry III. to emancipate 
himself from that unworthy thUildom brought 
about the day of the Barrica^^s, the exalta- 
tion of Guise, and the king's flight from his 

Henry, resorting to extreme remedies 
against extreme evils, convoked the States 
at Blois, and there, against the advice of his 
wary mother, who, even in that extremity, 
proposed more moderate measures,* rid 
himself by an assassination of his dangerous 

Afler the murder of the Duke of Guise, 
the queen advised her son to break loose 
altogether from the league's fetters, by a 
definite resolution, and to join the King of 
Navarre. The result of this measure, which 
cost Henry III. his life, but which prepared 
the final pacification of France under Henry 
IV., Catherine was not destined to witness. 
She died at Blois, January 5, 1589, thirteen 
days after the murder of Guise, and seven 
months l>efore the assassination of Henry 
HI. by Jacques Clement. 

Such wns (to enter into M. Albdri's views) 
Catherine de* Medici, whose grand and 
terrific figure rises above the crowd of minor 
acjtors in the long drama of the French 
Reformation and of the League, by the 
virtue of a lofty intelligence, and of a 
sovereign will, commanding the course of 
events, by which the others suffered them- 
selves to be blindly and passively driven. 
Serene among the passions of an age of 
confusion, — secure among incessant scenes 
of peril and strife,— active, vigilant, indefati* 
gable, she knew how to turn to her purpose 
the very designs of her adversaries. Her 
mission, for the space of thirty years, was 
to preserve her children's heritage from the 
designs of her rebellious vassals, and from 
the encroachments of envious neighbours. 
That mission she accomplished. Perhaps, 
in her eagerness to obtain her end, she was 
not always scrupulous about the choice of 
her means. Perhaps, with her anxiety about 
the peace and security of France and the 

• La re^na madre non ha aaput* coaa alcuna di 
queata impreaa ae non dopo il fa^, ma fra eaaa e 
U Re erano bone paaaati propoe^i «>pra il modo di 
liberarai della tirannide del Puoa di Guiaa, ed il 
parer della Retina era ehe ^ Re ai condaceaae a 
Lione, e quivi lo faceaae prigione.»*— Lett, ftom 
Oratio RucoUai, Bloia, De*. 24, 1668. Aiob. Madio. 


5|porfti* lAft of Wuihingtan, 


rights and privileges of the <;rown, she 
mingled personal views of an unbounded and 
jealous ambition. She has been, perhaps 
not unjustly, accused of attaching some be- 
lief to supernatural agents* and dealing in 
superstitious practices of divination and sor- 
cery. She has been reproached with cun- 
ning, simulation, and perfidy ; but she pos- 
sessed even less of those arts than her 
position demanded, even less than could 
protect her against her numerous and not 
less astute, though more powerful enemies. 
She is said to have stained her hands with 
private and public murders, but none has 
ever been sufficiently proved against her, 
and she unquestionably manifested, in more 
than one instance, her abhorrence of useless 
effusion of blood. 

Had Cathenne de' Medici been gifted 
with a less crafty* less resolute, less ambi- 
tious character, Catholic ferocity would have 
prevailed in her kingdom, and the fair days 
of Honry IV. and of the edict of Nantes 
would never have dawned upon France ; 
nor would then Philip of Spain, sure of the 
support of the Guises, have been so easily 
arrested by the rebels of Flanders; nor, 
perhaps, was Protestantism quite safe even 
in the heart of England and Germany. 

We have hitherto scarce uttered any 
opinion as to the merits of M. Alb^ri's per- 
formance. We have simply given a sum- 
mary view of the arguments brought for- 
ward by him in corroboration of his as- 
sumption, leavhig it with our readers to form 
their own estimate of the subject. We vAW 
only venture so far as to observe that the 
Italian, and especially Tuscan ambassadors, 
although surprised by us, in their privacy 
with their wary and unprejudiced cabinets, 
were still likely to look with admiration and 
partiality towards a queen that reflected so 
much lustre on the name of their country, 
and to give the most favourable version of 
her actions and her motives. Truly, as we 
have said, her best friends have, by their in- 
discreet encomiums, proved most fatal to her 
memory. Still we cannot in evefy circum- 
stance agree with M. Albdri, who seems to 
take every word in the documents he has 
brQught into light as proofs of incontrovert- 
ible evidence. Of the fine, rich, high-fiow- 
ing hi^orical style, and of the truly master- 
ly language made use of in the work, we 
can with >nore safety express our unquali- 
fied approbation ; and we confess we have 
been often aiqused by some of the illustra- 
tions in his vaVrable appendix. Still, even 
in that mass of vnteresting historical mate- 
rials, we thought Ve could recognise some, 
thing like juvenile exuberance.. The long 
account of Mary Stttart's long wanderings 

and trial, the heroic death of the preuz 
Chevalier Bayard, and other equally enter 
taining episodes of the great romance of the 
age, do not actually belong to, nor have 
they the power to throw much light upon, 
the life of Catherine. If M. Alb^ri wishes 
his name to stand high as an historian, and 
it is evident he does from his immense efibrts 
to attain correct views of his subject, he 
must remember that all these adjuncts 
weaken the force of the main design and 
the high keeping of one grand unity of ac- 

Art. VIII.— 1. Life of Washington. By 

Jared Sparks. Boston, 1839. 
2. Life and WritingM of Washington. 

12 vols. By Jared Sparks. Boston, 1839. 

Th£ materials from which the life before us 
has been composed are of a very extensive 
character, consisting of MSS. at Mount Ver- 
non the birthplace of Washington, named 
after the conqueror of Porto Bello; public 
documents in London, Paris, and the United 
States ; and private papers of the revolu- 
tionary chiefs. Washington himself left 
more than 200 folio volumes, over which the 
author has consumed ten years. Judicious 
selection out of such a mass of materials 
was especially needed, and we tltink has 
been discreetly used. A most unfair advan- 
tage, however, has been taken of the autlior 
by one of those pests of literature who seize 
on the labour of a life and convert the hived 
store of years to their own advantage. The 
author has published the Life and Writings 
of Washington in twelve volumes, and on 
the instant of its appearance an edition in 
two volumes, with the author's name, was 
published to rob him of his just emolument. 
If a better spirit than this docs not soon per- 
vade the literary world, we shall cease to 
see any works, the production of high la- 
bour and research, and our era will be noted 
by posterity simply for its flippancy and 

George Washington, the subject of the 
memoir before us, was the great grandson 
of John Washington, who emigrated to 
America and who was sixth in descent from 
Lawrence Washington, of Sulgrave, in 
Northamptonshire. The manor of Sul- 
grave was conferred on Lawrence Washing- 
ton in 1588. He appears to have been of 
Gray's Inn, and for some time mayor of 
Northampton. His grandson of the same 
name had several children, two of whom, 


SparM Life of Washington, 


John and Lawrence Washington emigrated 
to Virginia about 1657. This latter ap- 
pears to have been a member of the Uni- 
versity of Oxford. He and his brother John 
became opulent planters in Virginia. John, 
in whosf^ line the subject of the present me- 
moir \» involved, rose to the rank of colonel 
from his services against the Indians. He 
had two sonSy Lawrence and John. The 
elder of the two, Lawrence, had three sons, 
John, A.ugustine, and Mildred. Augustine, 
the second son, was twice married, and 
George Washington was the eldest son, by 
the second marriage. He was born on the 
2W of February, 1782. The father of 
Washington died at the early age of 49. 
Bach of his sons inherited from him a sep- 
arate plantation/ Any estimate t^ the con- 
sideration of the Washington family, from 
their position as landholders in a country 
where , acres are no evidence of wealth, 
would, of course, be erroneous ; but the 
father of Washington appears to have left 
his numerous children in a comfortable state 
of circumstances. The mother of Wash- 
ington was left in charge of a numeious 
family. Washington, the eldest of five, 
was only eleven years of age when his fath- 
er died. He received but jslender advanta. 
ges from education, since America at this 
period afforded little instruction worthy the 
name. He left school at sixteen, with some 
knowledge of geometry, trigonometry, and 
surveying, for which pursuits he always 
evinced a decided partiality. After quitting 
school he resided for some time with his 
half-brother, Lawrence, at Mount Vernon, 
where he became acquainted with Lord 
Fairfax, who had established himsi-lf in Vir- 
ginia. Lawrence Washington had married 
into that family. 

Lord Fairfax, having a high opinion of 
George, commissioned him to survey his 
enormous estates, and the task was execut- 
ed by him at sixteen to the entire satisfac- 
tion of his employer. In this survey 
Washington had his first interview with the 
Indians. At nineteen he obtained, through 
the Fairfax interest, the post of adjutant- 
general, with the rank of major in the mili- 
tia of the country of Virginia. The pay 
was jSi50 per annum. Scarcely, however, 
was he placed in the service, when the 
health of Lawrence Washington declining, 
George, from fraternal attachment, accom- 
panied him to Barbadoes, where the physi- 
cians had ordered him for the sake of a 
warmer atmosphere. No relief being ex- 
perienced, Lawrence determined to try 
Bermuda, and despatched George home for 
his wife. Uhimately finding no relief, he 
returned to lilount Vernon, and died at 

thirty-four years of age, leaving a wife and 
infant daughter. This event increased the 
sphere of George's duties, who, though the 
youngest executor, through his intimate ac- 
quaintance with his brother's affairs, had the 
principal management. But all these pri« 
vate matters he did not allow to interfere 
with public duties. Governor Dinwiddie 
had arrived in Virginia ; the whole colony 
was portioned out into foui^rand divisions. 
Major Washington received the northern, 
and instituted a capital system of training 
and inspection with uniform manoeuvring 
and discipline. Washington was now twenty- 

At this period a dispute occurred between 
the French and English about land that vir- 
tually belonged to neither, and Washington 
was despatched by Governor Dinwiddie as 
commissioner, to confer with the officer who 
commanded th& French forces. This officer 
intimated that he should not retire from the 
position he had taken up on the contested 
land, and that the Guvernor of Canada, the 
Marquis Duqucsne, had given him instruc* 
tions to that effect. Washington kept a 
bright look out while at the French fort, and 
transmitted a plan of it to the British Gov- 
ernment. His journey back to Williams, 
burg, where the governor then resided, was 
attended with much difficulty and danger* 
The governor immediately look measures to 
repel invasion, Washington's memoir of 
the French plans and intentions was consi- 
dered, both in America and England, as a 
highly valuable docunoent in illustration of 
French policy. He was appointed lieute- 
nant-colonel of the six companies raised on 
this occasion, but the chief command was 
entrusted to Colonel Joshua Fry, an English- 
man by birth, educated at Oxford, and 
highly esteemed for many excellent quaK- 
ties. Colonial troops from New York and 
North Carolina were ordered to join them, 
commanded by officers with royal commis- 
sions. Washington, at the head of three 
companies, proceeded to meet the French, 
but soon learning that a small party in ad. 
vance of him had been surprised, prepared 
for an engagement. He soon discovered 
that a small force of about fif%y men were 
close at hand ; a smart skirmish ensued, in 
which Jumonville, the French officer, felt, 
and nearly his whole detachment were either 
killed or made prisoners. It appeared af- 
terwards that Jumonville was the bearer of 
a summons, but as he took no means to 
apprise Washington of this circumstance, he 
suflfered the consequence of his own impru* 
dence, if, indeed, the summons was not a 
mere feint. 

Colonel Fry dying suddenly at Will's- 

VOL. xxvi. 



Sparfu* Life of iVasMngion* 


creek oq his way to join the army, the chief 
command devolved on Washington, who, 
anticipating a speedy attack as soon as the 
intelligence of the afialr with Jumonville 
transpired, entrenched himself at a spot 
which he named Fort Necessity. He was 
here invested by a superior French force, 
and was compelled to capitulate, but did so 
with all the honours of war, drums beating 
and colours flying. Washington and his 
troops, however, received the thanks of the 
governor and council. This was Washing, 
ton's first campaign, and though a stripling, 
he had shown in it the powers of a veteran. 
A rigid disciplinarian, and yet beloved by 
hit troops among circumstances of great 
danger, discontent and difficulty. Early in 
the spring of 1754, General Braddock land- 
ed in Virginia with two regiments of the 
line ; and though Washington had even re- 
signed his commission from disgust at the 
governor's measures, he accepted, at the 
request of the general, the office of his aide- 
de-camp, in which he was to retain his for- 
mer rank. Braddock advanced into the 
interior, and the place for general rendez- 
vous was Will's-creek. Here the general 
found all his contractors for horses and 
waggons had failed in their engagements. 
The celebrated Franklin, then postmaster- 
general of the provinces, remedied this diffi- 
culty to some eitenL The general, en- 
countering with all kinds of difficulties, ad- 
vanced upon the French position at Fort 

Washington was seized with a violent 
fever on the march, and the general orders 
ed him into the rear, with a solemn pledge 
that he should be brought up in front of the 
line before they reached the French fort. 
He continued thus two weeks, and only over- 
took the general the evening before the bat- 
tle of the Monongahela. The issue of this 
fatal conflict is well known. It is an epi- 
tome of almost all American battles, where 
any eflbrt to form into platoons and columns, 
which Braddock attempted, is a most fatal 
error. His troops were literally butchered 
by an invisible foe. Braddock himself re- 
ceiveda mortal wound, but behaved through- 
out the .entire engagement, as did also his 
officers, with heroic though useless bravery. 
Washington was not one to shun danger, 
and when the two other aide8<*de-camp were 
disabled, had the painful but honourable duty 
of executing alone the orders of the general. 
He rode in every direction, in the thickest 
of the fight, but escaped unhurt. *' By the 
all-powerful dispensations of Providence," 
■aid he in a letter to his brother, <* I have 
been protected beyond all human probability! 
or expectation ; for I had four bullets! 

through my coat, and two horses shot under 
roe, yet 1 escaped unhurt although death 
was levelling my companions on every side 
of me.'* Out of eighty-six officers engaged in ' 
the battle twenty-four were killed and thirty- 
seven wounded. The killed and wounded 
of the privates were 714. The enemy lost 
but forty. Their whole force amounted to 
only 850, out of which 600 were Indians. 
A lesson from which Bridsb officers might 
have profited on more than one occasion 
during the war. The enemy fought in deep 
ravines, and the bullets of the British passed 
over them. Braddock dying of his wounds 
was transported first on a tumbril, then on 
horseback, and at last carried by his men. 
He died on the fourth day from the battle, 
and was btiried near Washington's ill-omen- 
ed Fort Necessity. Had the general fbU 
lowed the advice of Washington and em- 
ployed the Indians, who oflered their servi- 
ces, which he strongly urged the general to 
accept, the issue might have been very dif. 
ferent, and the consequences have led to 
events of a wholly distinct character. But 
proud of a military skill as yet untried in 
America, the general refused to avail him- 
self of these invaluable scouts. The In- 
dians were rudely expelled, and that circum- 
stance probably cost Braddock his life. An 
anecdote of an Indian chief, though such 
anecdotes are rather suspicious, appears to 
possess a greater air of vrai.semblance, 
being somewhat confirmed by Washington's 
letter to his brother, than many of similar 

** Fifteen years after the battle of the Mononga- 
hela, Dr. Craik and Washington were traTelling on 
an expedition to the western country with a party 
of woodmen for the porpoee of exploring wild lands. 
While near the junction of the Great Kenhawa 
and Ohio riven a company of Indians came to them 
with an interpreter, at the head of whom was an 
aged chief. This person made known to them by 
the interpreter, that hearing Colonel Washington 
was in that region he had come a long way to 
meet him, adding that during the batUe of the 
Monon^rahela he had singled him out as a conspic- 
uous object, fired his rifle at him many times, and 
directed his warriors to do the same, but to his utter 
astonishment none of their balls took eflect. He 
was then persuaded that the youthful hero was 
under the special guardianship of the Great Spirit, 
and immediately ceased to nre at him. He was 
now oome to pay homage to the man who was the 
particular favourite of heaven and who could never 
die in battle.** 

So well satisfied however were the mem- 
bers of the legidlature of Virginia that all 
had been done thpt gallantry could effect, 
that three hundred pounds were granted by 
them to Colonel Washington, and propor- 
tionate sums to the officers and privates ** for 
their gallant behaviour and losses" at the 
battle of the Monongahela, The governor. 


Sparks' Life of Waakifigi&m. 


in a letter to the British mioistry spoke df 
Colonel Washington ** as a man of great 
merit and resolutioVi," adding ** I am con* 
vinced if Greneral Braddock had survived 
he would have recommended him to the 
rojal favour which I beg your interest in 
recommending," Had this timely hint 
been taken the American Revolution might 
never have ensued^ and *' certainly/' says 
our author, ** no royal favour to Washington 
ever crossed the Atlantic." Washington 
now received the entire command of the 
newly organized force. At this period of 
his life he appears to have been liable to at- 
tacks from Venus as well as Mars, but from 
his peculiar modesty to have avoided declar- 
ing himself to any of the fascinating charm- 
ers of New York. Various disagreeable 
circumstances occurred over this pari of 
VVashingtoo*s career: but in spite of contra- 
dictory orders, and an Indian atfack, he still 
persevered in his arduous duties ; but the 
efforts were too much for his health, and his 
medical adviser insisted on his temporary 
resignation of his command. He accord- 
ingly retired to Mount Vernon, where he 
was confined four months in consequence of 
a violent fever. He resumed his command 
March ibt, 1758, The British ministry at 
this period planned an attack on Fort Du- 
quesne, and General Forbs was ordered to 
take the command. Colonel Washington 
remained commander-in-chief of the Virgin* 
ian troops, which were ordered out to assist 
in the attack. The French, on the approach 
of the British, evacuated Fort Duquesne, 
which received the name of Fort Pitt, in hon. 
our of that minister by whom the expedition 
against it had been concerted. Washington 
reeeived an address at the close of the cam- 
paign from his officers, expressing their high 
estimation of his numerous excellent qualities. 
Five years had now passed of Washington's 
life in the manner described, and prepared him 
for scenes of wider development of purpose 
and action, should such occasions be minis- 

At this period he paid his addresses to 
Mrs. Martha Custis, to whom he was mar- 
ried on January 4th, 1759. She was three 
months younger than himself, and judging 
from her portrait, which accompanies the 
present volume, a lady of considerable per- 
sonal attractions. At the time of her mar- 
riage with Washington she had two children 
— a son and daughter — the former six, the 
latter four years of age. Mr. Custis had be- 
queathed large landed estates in New Kent 
County, and 45,000/. sterling in money. 
One-third part of this property she held in 
her own right, the other two-thirds being as- 
signed to the children. This union lasted 

forty years, and Mrs. Washin^n appears, 
from her many excellent qualities, to have 
commanded esteem in private life, and high 
respect in all public situations. During Uie 
last campaign, Washington had been elect- 
ed one of the burgesses in Virginia from 
Frederic County. His career as a senator is 
distinguished by practical wisdom, without, 
however, much power in wordy expression. 
When thanks had been voted to him for the 
distinguished services he had performed dur- 
ing the period we have just enumerated, he 
was totally unable to express his acknow. 
lodgment, and the speaker saved him further 
embarrassment by saying, '^Sit down, Mr. 
Washington, your modesty equals your val- 
our, and that surpasses the power of any 
language that I possess." From this period 
till the beginning of the Revolution, fifteen 
years, Washington was constantly a mem- 
ber of the House of Burgesses, being return- 
ed by a large majority every election. He 
appears to have exercised himself in his 
favourite agricultural pursuits, and to have 
retired to Mount Vernon to enact the coun- 
try gentleman. His favourite field sports were 
fox-hunting and fowling. But stormy periods, 
of which the Stamp Act was the precursor, 
were coming on, and roused him from his 
sylv.m sports. He espoused, at the com- 
mencement of the Revolution, the notions of 
Henry Randolph, Lee, and other popular 
leaders. But the repeal of the Stamp Act wss 
unfortunately not followed out by other con- 
ciliatory measures. The attempt on the part 
of some ill-advised members of the British 
government to infringe an integral principle 
of the constitution, in the view Americans 
took of it, that no subject could be taxed ex- 
cept by himself or his representatives, was 
unfortunately caried out in the colonies. 
Duties were laid accordingly on various ar- 
ticles, which excited strong sensations among 
the high-spirited Americans. Strictly speak- 
ing, it would certainly appear that, treating 
the question in the light that the American 
interests had no representation in the Brit- 
ish House of Lords and Commons, the colo- 
nists were justified in their opposition. But it 
was urged, had the representation of Ame- 
rica by delesates sent to England been deter^ 
mined on m that stage of the proceedings, 
such a course would have been justifiable. It 
matters, however, we believe, but trifiingly 
the cause of dispute : all colonists from Cor. 
cyra downwards, have invariably, when con* 
venient, invented some plea to get rid of the 
influence of the mother country. The actual 
loss to Bngiand was more than compensated 
by valuable East Indian possessions, and the 
expense of government, which is a far more 
costly thing in England than America 


SpmrU Lifi of Waakingkm. 


would hare produeed to England but small 
pecuniary advantages, if anj» from the hold, 
ing of these provinces. Their subsistence in 
Iheir present form is impossible ; and though 
eittensively occupied in mercantile transac- 
tions, the merchants of the United States, 
New York especially, have shown them- 
selves so little affected by the great leading 
laws of honourable acquittance of obli^tions, 
that the American trade has sustained a 
blow that it will tal^e nearly another century 
to recover. But enough is said on the pain- 
ful subject of the shuffling and evasions of 
Jonathan. John Bull will, in the aggregate, 
be found his only friend, and possibly may 
soon be called on to defend Jonathan against 
himself. But we must recur to our narrative. 
The duties on goods excited universal discon 
tenu Washington recommended arms as the 
<* dernier ressort ;*' but before they had re* 
course to this, to try the exclusive principle 
on British goods. The burgesses met, and 
denied the power of the British Parliament 
to impose taxes contrary to the constitution of 
the colonies. The governor, Lord Botetourt, 
dissolved the assembly in consequence of this 
resolution. This dissolution had only the ef- 
feet, however, of a reproduction of the same 
house. Many arguments were of course ad- 
dueed at the time, of which (he following brief 
summary may not be unnecessary. The par- 
ties opposed to the right of taxation claimed 
Locke, Selden, and Pufiendorf as authorities 
on their side. They also urged that Magna 
Charta and the Bill of Rights presuppose a 
community of representation, and that no 
man shall be taxed but by himself or a com- 
petent representative. The counties palatine 
of Chester and Ehirham were adduced as fa- 
vouring this hypothesis, having their own 
parliaments until blended with the general 
representation. The marches of Wales pos- 
sessed the same privileges, and even to this 
day Berwick upon Tweed has enjoyed the 
especial privilege of being a peculiar object 
of legislative provision, being included by 
name in all acts connected with the U-nited 
Kingdom. The common argument, that a a 
act of parliament can do anything, was met 
by showing what it could not do. It could 
not make itself executive, nor interfere with 
thd prerogative. It could not take away prop- 
erty from the private individual. The Lords 
could not reject money bills, nor the Com- 
mons (quere in the recent privilege question ?) 
erect themselves into a court of justice ; 
nor could the parliament of England then 
tax 'Ireland. 

Such were the points then argued ; but, 
as we have previously said, though eager to 
devise plausible excuses for throwing off 
subjf^ction to the mother countrVf the secret 

at the bottom of their movements was ^e 
interest of the colony, which was considera* 
bly interfered with by the disUint govern- 
ment of England. Lord Botetourt dying, 
the Earl of Dunmore succeeded him as 
governor of Virginia. He was compelled 
to resort to the same principle of proroga* 
tions until the 4th of March, 1773. But 
that assembly formed a committee of cor- 
respondence, and recommended the same to 
other legislative bodies, as a bond of union 
in any case of necessity. The next session, 
May, 1774, was accompanied with still 
stronger measures. After the assembly 
had been convened, news arrived that parlia- 
ment had closed the port of Boston, and 
inflicted various other restrictions on the 
inhabitants, which were to commence on the 
1st of June. The assembly immediately 
passed an order for a general fast, imploring 
the Divine interposition to avert the horrors 
of anarchy, and to give them a fitting spirit 
to assert their just rights by all proper 
means. The governor immediately dissolv- 
ed the assembly. Washington writes in his 
Diary, that he ^* went to church" on the 1st, 
" and fested all day." The delegates, how- 
ever, eighty- nine in number, formed them- 
selves into an association, and ordered the 
committee of correspondence to communi- 
cate with the committees of the other colo- 
nies on the expediency of appointing depu- 
ties to meet at a general congress. A town 
meeting had, in the meanwhile, taken place 
at Boston, in which it was agreed to enter 
into no commercial intercourse with Great 
Britain, either by imports or exports. Wash- 
ington, at a meeting of the deputies, strongly 
opposed this last as a violation of honour, 
since the debts of the American merchants 
to the British would be uncancelled. Ame- 
rica occupied then precisely the same posi- 
tion as America has since taken, but not 
with the honour that then distinguished her 
noblest sons. Wnshington, in a letter to 
Mr. Brian Fairfax, dated July 20, explains 
his own reasons for thinking that any further 
petitioning of the British Parliament would 
be an useless measure : — 

*' If I were in ftoy doubt u to the right which the 
parliament of Great Britain bad to tax us without 
oar consent, I should most heartily coincide with 
your opinion , that to petition and petition only is 
the proper method to apply for relief ; because we 
shoold then be askinff a favour and not claiming a 
right, which by the law of nature and of our con- 
stitution we are, in my opinion, indubitably entitled 
to. I should even think it criminal to go further 
than this under such an idea, but I have none 
such. I think the parliament of Great Britain 
have no more right to put Uieir hands into my pock- 
et without my consent, than I have to put my 
hands into yours ; and this being already urged to 
them in a firm j>ut decent manner by all the eolo- 

SpmrU Lift ef WaAinghn. 


niat* what raMoa k there to expect enything from 
their justice ?" — p. 117. 

The convention met at Williamsburg and 
appointed seven delegates to the general con- 
gress, Washington being one. The first con- 
gress met at Philadelphia on Septenfiber 
5, 1774. The papers drawn up by Congress 
on that occasion even elicited an eulogium 
from Chatham. The pacific tone of Congress 
may be gathered from their address to the 
people of England. •* You have been told 
that we are seditious, impatient of Govern* 
ment, and desirous of independency. Be 
assured that these are not facts but calum- 
nies/' Such might have been the senti- 


ments of many, probably believed by Wash 
ington to be his own, but we trace over even 
his career great jealousy of British officers, 
and the '' pas'* in rank conceded with some 
reluctance. When Congress was over, 
Washington retired lo his farm, and as in- 
dependent companies were forming all 
around him, and a leader would be required 
also, all eyes became fixed on Washington. 
The second Virginian convention met at 
Richmond on the 20th March, 1775. Pre- 
parations for resistance to the British arms 
were immediately instituted. On the 10th 
May, 1775, the second Congress assembled. 
The king had treated their petition lo him 
with fiilent neglect, and vi|»orous prepara- 
tions were strenuously employed to enforce 
the views of Lord North's cabinet. After 
much consideration, Washington was ap- 
pointed by Congress leader of the continen- 
tal army. His moderation of character may 
be seen in his address to the Congress on 
their allowance of 500 dollars a month to 
him as general. ** I beg leave to assure 
(^greds that as no pecuniary consideration 
could have tempted me to accept this arduous 
employment at the expense of my domestic 
ease and happiness, T do not wish to make any 
. profit from it ; T will keep an exact account of 
my expenses, those 1 doubt not they will dis- 
charge, and that is all I desire." It may be 
safely added of Washington, that he was of 
that class who have greatness ''jthrust upon 
them." For though fully able '' to achieve 
it," he would never have extended his hand 
to take it, from that inbred modesty, the 
true constituent of greatness, which he pos- 
sessed. He was appointed by Congress 
commander in chief of ail the forces then 
raised, or that should be raised in the united 
colonies for the defence of American liberty. 
Washington proceeded in corisequence to 
take the command of the army at that time 
at Bf 'Ston. We cannot agree in the notion en- 
tertained by the author of the life before us, 
that Gcueral Gage acted wrong in refusing 
"to reco^'fiize in Washington a person of 

equal rank with himdelf. Oage was the 
British commanding officer, and Washing, 
ton wajB unquestionably, according to all 
military ideas, not authorised to treat- with 
him, as being a rebel to the king, and in 
fact derived his authority from a body not 
acknowledged by his country, the Congress, 
and bad he acted otherwise, he would have 
allowed the validity of the American local 
government, which was the question on 
which they were to wage battle. Washing- 
ton had great difficulty during the ear* 
ly part of the campaign in keeping his 
forces together, but was by great exertions 
successful. Mrs. Washington passed the 
winter with her husband in the camp, and 
re:urned in the summer to Mount Vernon. 
A letter of Washington to his superintend- 
ent, Mr. Lund Washington, at Mount Ver* 
non, reflects high credit on his prudence 
and thoughtful benevolence, even while 
wielding the destinies of a great nation. 

** Let the hoBpitality of the bouse with respect to 
the poor be kept up. Let no one go hungry away. 
If any of this kind of people should be in want of 
com, supply their necessities, provided it does not 
encourage them in idleness, and I have no objection 
to your giving my money in charity to the amount 
of J^4Q or JC^ a year, when you think it well be- 
stowed; what I mean by having no objection is, 
that it is my desire that it shbuld be done. You 
are to consider that neither myself nor wife is now 
in the way to do these good offices. In all other 
respects I recommend it to yoo, and have no doubt 
of your observing, the greatest economy and fra- 
gafity, as I suppose you know that I do not get 
a farthing for my services here more than my 
expenses. It becomes necessary therefore for me 
to be saving at home.** — p. 154. 

General Gage had been superseded by 
General Howe in the command of Boston. 
Washington made preparations for a general 
attack, but Howe had received instructions 
from his government to evacuate Boston and 
make for a southern poit. His own views 
varied from the government policy, but yet 
he did not choose to risk the responsibi!iiy 
of a general engagement in opposition to his 

He accordingly prepared to evacuate the 
town, which he did without any injury, under 
a tacit engagement that the king's troops 
were to embark unmolested. This, being 
equally Washington's policy, since it was 
evident that by the evacuation the American 
cause gained immensely in popular report, 
was readily assented^ to by the republican 
chief, who was scarcely in efficient force, 
though greatly superior in numbers, to make 
a successful attack. Medals were struck on 
the occasion, containing a head of Washing- 
ton, and on the reverse the British fleet in 
full sail from the town. General Howe, as 
Washington suspected, simply quitted Boston 


Sparki^ Life of Woihmgum, 


to seize on New York. Washington re- 
ceived, while in front of New York, the de- 
daration of independence from Congress. 
If was read in front of the line, and heartily 
received. This was July 9, 1776. Lord 
Howe arrived with proposals from the Brit- 
ish government, and joined bis brother at 
Staten Island, unfortunately after the declar- 
ation. But as the proposals simply con- 
tained a general amnesty, and nothing more, 
his tardy arrival was of little consequence. 
General Howe was soon reinforced, as he 
anticipated before he Quitted Boston, at 
New York, and possessea an effective force 
of 24,000 men. His fleet was numerous 
and well equipped for service, and furnished 
with ail kinds of military stores. Washing- 
, ton had only 20,537 men in all, and a large 
mass of bis troops not in a state fit for ser- 
vice. The battle of Long Island ensued, on 
which wd' have simply to observe, that tbe 
los3 sustained by Washington on that occa- 
sion appears to have proceeded from a want 
of a better concerted plan. His troops were 
attacked in front and rear, and though they 
defended themselves bravely, their position 
being turned, was of course fatal. As to 
the retreat, that is allowed by all parties to 
Have been admirably conducted ; but it is 
difRcult to conceive how General Howe 
could have been so blind as to allow it, even 
in his haste to take up fresh positions, since 
he had it in hib power to have put an end to 
the war apparently by the complete extermi- 
nation of the republican force. We can 
conceive the policy of Washington in declin- 
ing a general engagement, but it is hard to 
imagine how the British general should have 
permitted him to escape it. He etiected a 
retreat, however, with all his ammunition 
and nine thousand men, into New York 
He was however soon compelled to evacuate 
that city. A panic among his troops ensued 
on the arrival of the British, and Washington 
drew all his forces together in a strong po- 
sition on the heights of Haarlem. General 
Howe, though he received honours from 
his sovereign, wanted, like better command, 
ers frequently, the talent to improve advan- 
tages. He wroto to England for fresh rein- 
forcements, and stated that the information 
he had received of the willingness on the 
part of the Americans to volunteer ia the 
British army, was not borne out by facts. 
The British ministry never supported hirp, 
nor Cornwallis, nor Clinton, as they ought 
to have done, and general after general 
requested to bo recalled by reason of their 
inefficient supplies from home. But with 
respect to General Howe, he had, independ. 
ent of any aid from England, victory in his 
hands, but a victory that could only be 

achieved by bold and decided measures. 
After this, General Howe gained fresh ad- 
vantages at ChattertoQ Hill, from which he 
ought to have attacked the enemy's camp. 
The capture of Fort Washington* where 
the Americans sustained 'in killed and pri- 
soners a loss of nearly 2000 men, followed ; 
Fort Lee was next evacuated by them, and 
Washington was forced to retreat before the 
British troops. 

A free pardon at. this time, issued by Gen- 
eral Howe produced great effect, many weal- 
thy persons availing themselves of it ; but 
Washington was undismayed by even the 
increased difficulties that now surrounded 
him. The Congress conferred on him al- 
most absolute powers, and he used them 
well /or the interests he supported. Com- 
pelled to cross the Delaware, he Awaited 
quietly the opportunities that time should af- 
ford him. At Trenton he succeeded in sur- 
prising three regiments of Hessians and a 
troop of British light horse. His prisoners 
amounted t*i a 1000 men. The issue of this 
campaign terminated favourably for Ame- 
rica, since he succeeded in dislodging the 
British forces from almost all their posts in 
the Jerseys. He had relieved Philadelphia 
and recovered New Jersey. But General 
Howe now determined to check his progress, 
and the battle of B randy wine* where the 
forces drew pretty close on an equality, 
showed (though Marshall urges the contrary 
opinion) that he was still capable of do- 
ing so. The battle of German Town, 
where Washington attempted a surprise, 
was an equal failure. At this period, Lnrd 
North's conciliatory bills were drafted and 
sent out to America. Washington ex- 
pressed his opinion of them in the following 
terms : 

'* Nothing short of independence it appears to 
me can possibly do. A peace on other terma 
would, if I may be allowed, the expression, be a 
peace of war. The injuries we have reoetvcd from 
the British nation were unprovoked, and have been 
so great, and so many that they can never be for- 
gotten. Besides the feuds, the jealousies, the aui. 
mosities that would ever attend a union with them, 
besides the importance, the advantages which we 
should derive from an unrestricted commerce ; oar 
fidelity as a people : our gratitude, our character, 
aa men, are opposed to a coalition with them as 
subjects but in case of the last ext'emity. Were 
wo easily to accede to terms of dependence, no na. 
tion upon future occasions, let the oppressions of 
Britain be ever so flagrant and unjust, would inter- 
pose for our relief ; or at most they would do it with 
a cautious reluctance, and upon condiUons most 
probably that would be hard, if not dishonourable 
to us." 

The commissioners to carry out these pro- 
visions remained for some time in Americat 
but finding all attempts at conciliatioD use* 


Sparfui* Life of WaahingUm. 


less, retreated in despair. The King of 
France recognized the independence ot the 
United States^ — a most shameful violation 
on bis part of the laws of 'European nations, { 
— a foul treason to the interests of monarchy. 
Equal in treachery to the espousal of the 
cause of Corcyra by Athens, and attended 
with «Til consequences too justly merited to 
the monarchical institutions of that country. 
The British had now taken Philadelphia ; 
but the necessary arrangements to form a 
descent on the French West Indian settle, 
ments prevented General Clinton, who had 
assumed the command on the departure for 
England of Sir W. Howe, from remaining 
there, and he proceeded to New York. He 
marched out with an available force of sim- 
ply 10,000 elective troops. Washington 
followed him with a much larger body. 
After a trifling battle. Sir H Clinton suc- 
ceeded in reaching New York, but from de- 
sertion and other causes, with the loss of 
1200 men. Many incursions were made at 
this time on New Jersey by the British, and 
in spite of one of the noblest monuments of 
modern oratory extant, Lord Chatham's 
speech, the Indians were called in to extend 
the horrors of war by the tomahawk and the 
scalping knife. A most ili.judged measure; 
which contributed immensely to the British 
unpopularity. Their devastations at Cherry 
Valley and Wyoming, ennobled by the muse 
of Campbell, excited universal detestation. 
Sir H. Clinton, by the instructions of his 
government, remained in New York, send- 
ing forth occasionally skirmishing parties. 
Washington confined himself to attempts at 
regaining several positions which had been 
taken from the Americans, and were reserved 
as outposts, in which he was successful. 
Clinton tried to brin£f him to a general en- 
gagement, but Washington maintained him- 
self in a strong position, and bided his time. 
When reinforced, Clinton made an attempt 
on South Carolina. Washington also re- 
ceived assistance from France, consisting of 
eight ships of the line, two frigates, and five 
thousand troops. This was called the first 
division ; a second was detained for want of 
transports, but was then at Brest ready to 
sail. But it never did sail, and remained 
there under close blockade. The naval su- 
periority of the British enabled them also to 
keep the French ships perfectly close to har- 
bour at Newport, and the French general 
Rochambeau was compelled to remain on 
the spot to take care of his ships, .^t this 
lime Arnold commanded at West Point, and 
maintained all the strong positions in the 
highlands. This general conceived the no- 
tion that it would be to his interest to join 
the British, and he engaged in a system of re- 

fined treachery, by which he intended to 
place all the strong posts in their hands* 
He had been publicly reprimanded by Wash- 
ington, and was unquestionably an embar- 
rassed man. He accordingly entered into 
a secret correspondence with Major Andr6, 
Adjutant-General of the British army. 
Arnold had obtained his command at West 
Point purely with a view to deliver it into 
the hands of the enemy. Arnold and An* 
dr6 had accordingly an interview on shorOt 
Andr^ quitting the Vulture sloop-of-war for 
that object. 

Arnold here detailed the exact state of 
things at West Point, the stre|)gtl\ of the 
garrison and works, and the proceedings of 
a secret council of war. Andr4 wished to 
return to the Vulture, but this not being 
practicable, Arnold furnished him with a pass 
as John Anderson. Andr6 was seized, al- 
though disguised, when riding towards New 
York, searched, and papers from Arnold, 
containing the information just stated, were 
found on his person. After his arrest he 
wrote to Washington, revealing his real 
name and character. Arnold, in the mean- 
time, to whom the ofHcer who had arrested 
Andr6 had written stating the fact, immedi- 
ately mounted a horse standing at the door, 
rode to the river, entered his barge, and or- 
dered the men to row down the river. At 
King's Ferry he held up a white handker- 
chief, and by this means passed as a flag boat 
without interruption. He proceeded instant- 
ly to the Vullure, which was still at anchor' 
in the river where Andr^ had quitted her. 
The case of Major Andr6 was considered by 
Washington as not one of ordinary warfare, 
and accordingly Andr6 was sentenced to 
death as a spy. Clinton used ail pos£>ihle 
efforts to save him. - The cifcum stances at- 
tending the last moments of Andre evinced 
a fine and noble spirit, and to this day his « 
death is regarded as the strongest instance 
of severity exercised by Washington. As 
to the right of Washington to occupy the 
post he did, there always must be doubts, but 
conceding that, Andr6 suffered justly. At 
this period the British general conceived the • 
notion of transferring the seat of war to the 
Chesapeake, and possibly Pennsylvania* It 
was presumed that Comwallis would be able 
to make his way through North Carolina, 
and General Philips with 2000 men was 
sent to co-operate with Arnold in Virginia. 
During this portion of the campaign Wash- 
ington's own possessions were visited by the 
enemy. Sir H, Clinton however had not 
calculated on the arrival of the Count de 
Grasse, who reirfforced Lafayette with 3000 
men. Comwallis had taken possession of 
York Town and ^Glocester, expecting aid 


Sparka' Life of Waahington. 


from Sir H. Clinton. Here he was imme> 
diately invested, and ailer a strong siege, 
surrendered to the superior force opposed to 
him. 7000 men laid down tbdr arms to 
Washington, 500 were killed in the siege. 
The American loss in killed and wounded 
amounted to 800. Were such things writ- 
ten of any modern Gieneral as are of tne rash 
Burgoyne and CornwalliSt the wonderment 
would be, that the one should return home and 
write plays as coolly as if nothing had hap- 
pened to the British arms of deep and foul 
dishonour through him, and that the other 
should ever have received a fresh command, 
and beQU enabled, as the conqueror of Tip- 
poo, to efiace the taint of York Town. It 
must be however remembered that Clinton 
charged CornwalHs with blame, and Corn- 
wallis Clinton. Blame lay between them 
certainly, and a tamer surrender, with so 
inconsiderable a loss under the circumstan- 
ces, never disgraced the British arms. The 
surrender of the lieutenant-general of the 
British forces in America was regarded as 
ominous of a speedy termination of the war. 
It was so felt, and the spirit that led the Pree- 
torian guards to become arbiters of em- 
pire, and in one instance salesmenj induced 
many of Washington's officers to offer him 
' the sovereign power. To the organ of the 
communication, a colonel in the army, Wash- 
ington replied as follows : — 

*' Sir — With a mixture of ereat surprise and aa- 
.tonishraent I have read with attention the senti- 
menta you have submitted to my perusal. Be as. 
sured, Sir, no occurrence in the course of the war 
has given me more painful sensations than your in- 
formation of there being such ideas existing in the 
army as you have expressed, and I must view with 
abhorrence, and reprehend with severity. For the 
present, the communication of them will rest in my 
own bosom, unless some furtlier agitation of the 
matter shall make a disclosure necessary. I am 
much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct 
* could have given encouragement to an address 
which to me seems big with the greatest mischiefs 
that can bef^ my country. If 1 am not deceived 
in the knowledge of myself, you could not have 
found a person to whom your schemes are more 
disagreeable. At the same time, in justice to my 
own feelings, I must add that no man possesses a 
more sincere wish to see ample justice done to the 
army than I do ; and as far as my powers and in. 
fluence in a constitutional way extend, they shall 
be employed to the utmost of my abilities to effect 
it, should there be any occasion. Let me conjure 
you, then, if you have any regard for your country, 
concern for yourself or posterity, or respect for me, 
to banish these thoughts from your mind, and ney. 
er communicate as from yonnelf or any one else a 
sentiment of like nature. 

** I am, &.C. &c. 


In this view bf his character, contrasting 

also the future President with our ambitious 

Votector, his character is resplendently lus- 

trous. The uncrowned brow of W^ashington, 
though we are no friends to American views, 
we freely own a glorious spectacle. But 
moderation and modesty were his distinguish* 
ing characteristics. Sir H. Clinton had 
been superseded by Sir Guy Carleton. This 
general, acting on the instructions of his 
government, stated that negotiations for a 
general peace had commenced at Paris, in 
which America would be included. After a 
i short period, Sir Guy Carleton communicat- 
ed the receipt of official communication that 
the treaty of peace was signed, and the .Bri- 
tish forces then evacuated New York. 

With the termination of the war, Wash- 
ington had also bid adieu to all his compan* 
ions in arms ; we extract the following de- 
scription of this event from Marshall's 
Life : — 

*' This affecting interview took place on the 4th 
December ; at noon the principal officers of the ar- 
my assembled at Frances's Tavern, soon after which 
their beloved commander entered the room. His 
emotions were too strong to be concealed. FiUing 
a glass, he turned to them and said, * With a heart 
full of love and gratitude I now take leave of you. 
I mosi devoutly wish that your latter days may be 
as prosperous and happy as your former ones /have 
been glorious and honourable.* Having drunk, he 
added, * I cannot come to each of you to take my 
leave, but shall be obliged if each of you will come 
and take me by the hand.' Genera} Knox being 
nearest, turned to'him. Washington, incapable of 
utterance, grasped his hand, and embraced him. In 
the same affectionate manner he took leave of each 
succeeding officer. The tear of manly sensibility 
was in every eye, and not a word was articulated 
to interrupt the digni6ed silence and the tendernefls 
of the scene. Leaving them, he passed through the 
corps of light iniantry, and walked to Whitehall, 
where a barge waited to convey him to Paulus 
Hook, the whole company followed in meek and 
solemn procession with dejected countenances, tes- 
tifying feelings of delicious melancholy, which no 
language can describe. Having entered the barge, 
he turned to the company, and waving his hat, bid 
them a silent adieu. They paid him the same af* 
fectionate compliment, and after the barge had left 
them, returned in tlie same solemn manner to the 
place where they had assembled.'* — MarskalP9 Life^ 
Second Eklition, vol. ii. p. 57. 

He then proceeded to meet Congress, 
amid the blessings of the nation. Public ad- 
dresses of all kiad^ were presented to him 
from the several legislatures of the States. 
When arrived at Annapolis, the seat of Con- 
gress, he informed the president that he was 
ready to resign into his hands the commis« 
sion he had held for the service of his coun« 

" At the close of his address on this occasion! he 
said, ' Having now finished the work assigned me* 
I retire from the great theatre of action, and bidding 
an affectionate adieu to this august body, under 
whose ordrrN I have so long acted, 1 here offer my 
commission, and take my leave of all the employ- 
ments of public life." * 


SforW Ljf^ of 



He then advanced, and gave his commis- 
■ion into the handa of the president, who re- 
plied to his address. The ceremony being 
endedy he withdrew from the assembly di- 
vested of (lie official character, and sustain- 
ing no other rank than that of a private citi- 

Comparing that scene with the retirement 
of Syllfl[y how does Washington rise by the 

Having now completed the military por- 
tion of Washington's character, most painful 
to an Englishman to record, since in strife, 
save against ourselves, we have our fair 
share of success, we have only to review his 

Juiet exercise of civil and domestic duties, 
[e retired to Mount Vernon, and there this 
mightier than Cincinnatus amused himself 
with rustic pursuits, and seemed to consider 
his brilliant public career ended. The epi- 
thet of '* Cunctator,'' had been conferred on 
him by his countrvmen, and it was well de- 
served, for he bad done more by delay than 
action. This policy pursued with any foreign 
powers mast prove successful. A country 
must either at once be conquered under such 
circumstances, or it will by simply reposing 
its energies, and even faintly using them at 
intervals, destroy all opposing force. Wash- 
ington rested from his labours like the sun 
at his setting, and glorious indeed to the re- 
motest hour of his existence, as calmly beau- 
tiful though not so lustrously grand, was the 
course of the agriculturist warrior. Pecu- 
niary compensation for his invaluable un- 
matched exertions he declined, and his feel- 
ings on retiring from military duties are 
beautifuUv depicted in the following letters 
to his idol, La Fayette: — 

** At lonffth I am become a prir&te oitizen on the 
banks of the Potomac ; and under the ihadow of 
my own vine and my own fig.tree, free ftnm the 
boBtle of a camp, and the Ynxj Mcenee of pohlic life, 
I am solacing myielf with thoae tianqail enjoy- 
mente, of which the eoldier, who it ever in poisuit 
of fame, the statesman, whose watchibl days and 
sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to 
promote the welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of 
other coontries, as if this globe was insufficient for 
us all, and the cuortier, wiu> is always watching the 
eoontenanee of his prince, in hopes of catching a 

Eicioos smile, can have venr little conception. I 
ve not only retired from afi puUic employments, 
bat I am retiring within myself^ and shall be able 
to view the solitary walk, and tread the paths of pri- 
vate life with a heartfelt satis&ction. Envious of 
none, I am delermmed to be pleased with all ; and 
Ui^ my dear friend, being the order for my march, 
I will move gently down the stream of life, mitil I 
sleep with my fathers.*' 

Havinir preserved, he afterwards set about 
beautifying the land he had saved, and his 
iuggestionB led to the survey of the Potomac 
and James Rivers with a view to internal 
navigation, which should connect them with 

▼OL. XXVI. 18 

the western waters. A company was imme- 
diately formed, and that company assigned 
him fifty shares in the formei, and one hun« 
dred in the latter. At his death he bequeath- 
ed the fifty shares in the Potomac company 
for the purpose of founding an university in 
the district of Columbia, and the one hunared 
m James, to an institution then called Liber- 
ty Hall Academy, but now Washington Col* 
lege. The attachment of one of the great- 
est warriors of the last century, and unques- 
tionably of the mightiest in this, to collegiate 
institutions, is a somewhat remarkable coin- 
cidence. Washington was Chancellor of 
William and Mary College, Wellington is 
(may he tong continue such!) the Moved 
and revered Chancellor of Oxford : — 

** Cedant anna togw, oedat laona lingiue.*' 

Many a quiet deed of Washington of a 
charitable nature has escaped commemora- 
tion, few indeed were the scboBies to benefit 
mankind to which he did not lend aid and 
attentive consideration. The Countess of 
Huntingdon had formed a scheme for civiliz- 
ing and christianising the North American 
Indians. Descended from Earl Ferrers, 
who was in the female line connected with a 
remote branch of the Washington family, she 
claimed Washington a6 a kinsman, and im- 
parted to him her project. It was in the 
first instance to effect missionary settlements, 
where the emigrants might assemble on wild 
lands and exe(( themselves to benefit the 
wandering tribes. Policy led to the rejec-* 
tion of the scheme, but Washington ofiered 
to let settlers occupv his lands, and to render 
them available to her ladyship's purposes. 
Like Scott, Washington took great delight 
in planting ; the beauty of bis grounds, the 
just intermixture of trees, shrubis, and ever* 
greens, rare varieties of fruits and flowers, 
were subjects on which he showed mtense 
interest, as his diary evinces. Pnininff af- 
forded him the same pleasure as it did the 
northern minstrel. But retirement, tranquil 
retirement, was with him nearly impossible, 
for visitors from all parts of the jrlobe were 
constantly at Mount Vernon. The unset- 
tled constitution of Congress at this period 
of his life, now fifty-four, must also have 
given him some uneasiness. Washington 
became appointed at this time one of the 
deleg(|tes to settle existing difierences. He 
was at fiist unwilling to accept the ofike» 
wishing to make retirement from public life 
final, but the entreaties of his friends prevail, 
ed over his own personal feelings. To be 
fullv prepared to meet the convention, he 
had ansJyzed nearly all the ancient confeder- 
acies, the Lycian, Amphictyonic, Achosan 
Helvetic, Belgie,and Germanic. He soug' 


Sp^rt9 I4f$ vf Wa$Mngiom. 


to detect all possible, evil in the constitution i 
lof the United States, aod to infuse good from 
any channel which the experience of ages 
might suggest. A somewhat different no- 
tion of republicanism to that which modern 
advocates for this system press forward, who 
think themselves fooled of the pasty whereas 
they should read present. Washington's 
first visit on arriving at Philadelphia was to 
Franklin, President of that state. All the 
states were represented in the convention, 
Rhode Island excepted, and Washington 
was unanimously elected President. The 
TesuU of their delibe rations was the conso- 
lidation of the United States-*a mo&t diffi- 
cult piece of legislation* since thirteen states 
had to be consulted and to assent to it, all 
varying in interest?, wealth, and habits. 
Franklin said of it, *' I consent to this con- 
stitution, because I expect no better and be- 
cause I R m sure it is not bad . The opinions [ 
have of its errors I sacrifice to the public 

food.'' Washington also thus expresses 
imself : — 

** It appean to me little short of a miracle, that 
the delegates from so mao j states, different from 
each other in their manners, oircumstanees, and 
prejudices, should unite in forming a system of na- 
tional government so littie liable to well founded 
ohjectlons. Nor am I yet. such an enthusiastic, 
partial, or indiseriminating admirer of it as not to 
perceive that it is tinctured with some real though 
not radical defecta."— p. 403. 

Each state convention transmitted to Con- 
gress a testimonial of its cohseot, signed by 
all its members. One day was appointed 
for the people to choose electors of a Presi- 
dent, and another for the electors to meet 
and name the iirst President. Public senti- 
ment was instantly directed to one and one 
only. Hints were thiown out to Washing- 
ton that could not be mipunderstood as to the 
general sentiments. To a member of con- 
gress he wrote his own thoughts on the sub- 
ject in the following words. 

*• Should the contingency you suggest take place, 
and should my unfeigned relucUnce to accept the 
office be overoome by a deference to the reasons 
and opinions of my friends, might I not, after the 
declarations I have made, (and Heaven knows they 
were made in the sincerity of my "heart,) in tlie 
judgment of impartial world and posterity, be 
chaigeable with levity and inconsistency, if not 
with rashness and ambition ? Nay, further, would 
were not be some apparent foundation for the two 
former charges 7 Now, justice to myself and f ran. 
qnillity of conscience require that I should act a 
part, if not above impatation, at least capable of vin. 
dication. Npr will you conceive me to be too solicit, 
ous for reputation. Thcugh I prizo as I ought the 
good opinion of my fellow citizens, yet as 1 know 
myself I would not seek or retain popularity at the 
^ptnt€of owe weial duty or moral T&tue. While 
doing what my conaoieace informed me was right 
as respected my God, my ooontiy, and myself I 

could dewpm all the party elamoiir and onjnst een- 
sure, which might be expected from some whose 
fiersonal enmity might be occasioned by their hos. 
tility to tlie government. I am conscious that I 
fear alone u> give any real oceasioa for obloquy, and 
that I do not dread to meet with unmerited re- 
proach. And certain I am, whensoever I ahall be 
convinced the good of my country requires my 
reputation to be put to the risk, regard for my own 
fame will not come in competition with an object 
oi so much magnitude. If I declined the task, it 
would be upon quite another principle. Notwith- 
standing my advanced season of life, my increasing 
fondness for agricultural amusements, and my 
growing love of retirement, augment and confirm 
my decided predilection for the character of a pri 
vate citizen, yet it would be no oneof these motives, 
nor the hazard to which my former reputation 
might be exposed, nor the terror of encountering 
new fatigues and troubles, that would deter me 
from an acceptance, but a belief that aomo other 
person, who had less pretence and less inclination 
to be excused, could execute all the duties full as 
satisfactorily as myself." 

His scruples yielded to the general accla- 
mation, and George Washington, then fifty- 
seven years of age, was chosen, as Mr. 
Sparks rightly says, ** probably without one 
dissentient voice in the whole nation, the 
first President of the United States.'* 

He took upon him the severe duties of the 
presidency with decided reluctance, and 
simply from a sense of duty yielded to the 
voiee of the nation. Jefierson was appoint- 
ed by him to the state department ; or, as 
we should term it, foreign secretary ; Ha- 
milton to the treasury, and Henry Knox 
secretary of war. Randolph was attorney- 
general, and Jay chief justice. All sp- 
pointmenis of a subordinate, character were 
filled up with more regard to the fitness of 
the individual for the office, than to any in. 
terest which might be made on his behalf. 
Washington travelled throughout the States 
to inspect their trading and agricultural in- 
terests, in order that he might not be unduly 
swayed by reports unfounded on fact. He 
recommended, in his speech to Congress, 
laws for naturalizing foreigners; a uniform- 
iiy in the currency, weights and measures ; 
the encouragement of agriculture, commerce 
and manufactures ; the promotion of science 
and Uterature, and an eflective system for 
the support of public credit. The national 
debt of America was of two kinds, foreign 
and domeslic. The foreign debt amounted 
to twelve millions of dollars — the domestic 
to forty-two millions. The States also, for 
works of defence and other matters, had in 
dividually contracted debts to the amount of 
twenty-six millions. It was proposed by the 
secretary to treat all these as one debt^and 
to fund them. All persons were of one 
opinion with respect to the foreign debta, but 
on the other two there existed considerable 
difi^rence of sentiment. The funding &y»* 


tpafk^ Life df Wnhingion. 


tern waa adopted) and there is no doubt that 
It received the sanction of Washington both 
in bis private judgment and public capacity. 
War with the Indians, of a most expensive 
and protracted character, soon became inevi- 
table, but was undertaken with deep regret 
by Washington. A national bank, some, 
what famous in modern days, not to use a 
worse epithet, was commenced, and taxes 
were laid on ardent spirits distilled in the 
States. In all the above measures Hamilton 
is to be looked upon as the great mover, 
since they were nenrly all opposed by JefTer- 
aoD, Between him and Hamihon differences 
of a nature wholly irreconcilable soon oc- 
cuiTed, The next great measure was the 
regulation of the number of electors to each 
member of congress, and after some discus- 
sion, and one Mil being thrown out on the 
authority of Washington alone, it was fixed 
at the ratio of one member to 33,000 elec- 
tors. These measures being achieved, 
Washington's first presidency of four years 
lerminated. But the unsettled state of the 
public mind induced JefiersoUf Hamilton, 
and Randolph, all to concur in representa- 
tions to Washington of the imtnense impor- 
tance of his re-election. He had prepared 
a farewell address, and obviously designed 
to quit office for ever. He accepted it, how- 
ever, in consequence of the judgment of his 
friends, who united in one' common senti- 
ment as to the expediency of bis retention 
of office. War ensued at this period be- 
tween Prance and England. America de. 
cided on a strict neutrality. But for this 
measure, probably, however it may be brand- 
ed by the democrats, the political existence 
of America had terminated, save as matter 
of history. Hence arose the two great par- 
ties of America, the Federalists and the 
Democrats. The French ambassador at 
this time, Mr. Genet, fitted out privateers 
under the American flag for reprisals upon 
England, a circumstance which drew down 
the remonstrance of Great Britain. These 
proceedings were forcibly suppressed by the 
President. Genet lost all command over 
himself, accused the President of usurping 
the powers of Congress, and talked of an 
appeal to the people. Particulars of all 
these matters were drawn up and forwarded 
to the French government, with a request 
that they would recall their ambassador. 
Genet, however, was the cause of the forma- 
tion of associations, the curse of any land — 
democratic societies, in imitation of the Jaco- 
bin clubs of France. Their object and in- 
fluence are thus described by Washington. 

**That these toetotiei were inetttated by the art- 
iU Mid de^fag membita (naay of their body, 

there is no doubt, mean well, bnt knew little of the 
real plan)« parposely to sow among; the people tii^ 
seeds of jealousy and distrust of the i^oTenmieDt, hf 
destroying all confideoce in the. administration ii 
it, and that these doctrineci have been budding and 
blowing ever since, is not new to any one who is 
acquainted with the charaeter of their leaders an^ 
has been attentive to their manoBavrss. Can aay 
thing be more absurd, more arrogant^ m more per- 
nicious to tlie peace of society, than for self-created 
bodies [Read this, Precursors and Repealers!] forna. 
ing themselyes into permanent censors, and, under 
the shade of nifrht,in a conclave, leaolving thst acli 
of Congress, which have undergone the inoet de> 
liberate and solenm discussion by the representa. 
tives of the people, chosen for the express purpose, 
and bringing with them from the different parts of 
the Union the sense of their constiCaentsi endet^ 
vooring, as far as the natnre of tho thing will ad« 
mit, to form their will into lawsibr the government 
of the whole ; I say, under these circumstances, 
for a self-created body (for no one denies the righl 
of the people to meet occssionaDy to petition for or 
remomtrala agafaist any act of the togUaturB) to 
declare that this act is uoconstiiutionaU and thai 
act is pregnant with mischiefs, and that all who 
vote contrary to their dogmas, are actuated by eel- 
fish motives, or under foreign influence, nay, arti 
traitors to their counUy? Is such a stretch of 
arrogant presumption to be reoonctled with laQd% 
ble motives, especially when we see the same set of 
men endeavouring to destroy all confidence in the 
administration, by arraigning all its acts, without 
knowing ort what grouira or with what inforttHtioa' 
it prooeeds t** 

Our author, though a republican, does not 
Appear to hold the democradc party in high 
estimation. We extract, for the benefit of 
Mr. O'Connel), his description of this pest 
of nations. 

<* Demagogues are the natural fruit of republics, 
and the fkbled Upas could not be more poisonous 
or desolating to the soil from which it springs. 
Envious of his superiors, panting for honours which 
he is conscious he can never deserve, endowed with 
no higher faculties than cunning and an impudent 
hardihood, reckless of consequences, and grovelling 
alike in spirit and motive, the demagogue seek» 
&st to oajole the peomle, then to corrupt, and last 
of all to betray and ruin them. When he has 
brought down the high to a level vdth himself, and 
depressed the low till they are pliant to his wiU, his 
work is achieved. The treachery of a Catiline of 
Borgia may be delected by a fortunate aeeident 
and crushed in its infancy ; but the demagogue, 
under his panoply of falsehood and chicane, may 
gradually sap the foundations of social order, and 
his country may be left with no other recompenss 
for the niin he has wrought, and the misery he has 
caused, than the poor consolation of execratiDg his 

The British cruisers also, as well as the 
French, at this period, were considered as vi- 
olating the neutmlity observed by America, in 
seizing vessels bound to any French port and 
sending them to some convenient port where 
the cargoes might be purchased. This laid 
the foundation for the American navy, and a 
system of maritnne defence became abaohit#» 
,ly neeenary. An Ambassador, Mr. 3'm^ 


Sparks' Ltf4 of WtukiMghm^ 


wof despatched at this period to arrange all 
existing differences with Great Britain, and 
active preparations for war were carried on, 
to be ready in the event of the failure of the 
negotiation* Great Britain had, since the 
estaUishment of the constitution, sent an en- 
voy to the United States. Mr. Jay negoti- 
ated the treaty, and it arrived in America in 
March, 1795. Washington, after a minute 
examination, determined on its acceptance. 
The constitution provided that all treaties 
should be ratified by the senate and the pre- 
sident. He sitmmoned that body in conse- 
quence, and laid before them the draft* Vio- 
tent discussions ensued on the subject, but 
the treaty was assented to by a constitutional 
majority, and Washington signed it as pre- 
sident ; and to the ratification on the part of 
the senate^ which made one exception only, 
assent was given by the British government. 
The great points urged by the opponents of 
the treaty, and reported by them to have 
been neglected, were, the imprisonment of 
seamen, neutral rights, and colonial trade, 
which, as our author says, ^ have never yet 
been settled, and are never likely to be settled 
satisfactorily while England maintains the 
ascendency she now holds on the ocean." 
But popular excitement was not yet at an end. 
When the treaty was presented to Congress 
as ratified by the British government, a 
large majority of the members requested the 
president to lay before the house the instruc- 
tions of Mr. Jay, and other memoranda con- 
nected with this proceeding. Washington 
knew that by the constitution the power to 
form treaties rested simply in the chief ma- 

S'strate and the senate, and he considered 
is attempt of the representatives as an en- 
croachment on that power. However sus- 
picion might dog his conduct, Washington 
determined on doing his constitutional duty, 
and he refused to furnish the required docu- 
ments. He gave, however, reasons for his 
refusal, and powerful and energetic were his 
remonstrances. He said the power of mak- 
ing treaties rested exclusively in the presi- 
dent, with the consent of the senate ; that, 
as a member of convention, he knew this was 
the impression of the founders of the consti- 
tution ; this construction, he urged, had hi- 
therto been embraced by the representatives, 
and also that resistance to a novel principle 
in the state was equally the duty of the pre- 
sident and every well-wisher to the constitu- 
tion. He further pointed out the vacillating 
policy that must result from the change, ana 
tJie want of confidence in the ratification of 
treaties that must ensue. After violent de. 
bates, a majority of the representatives pass- 
ed the treaty. The termination of Washing- 
ton's second presidency now approached, 

and though earnest remonstrances were 
made that he would still continue his public 
services, he was now fully determined to re- 
tire from public life. His farewell address 
was published six months before his term of 
office had expired. It is regarded by Ameri- 
cans as unrivalled in soundness of views, 
wisdom of policy, and benevolence of inten- 
tion. If the composition is to be ascribed to 
Hamilton, there can be no doubt that the 
strong sense it embodied is to be traced to 
the clear mind of Washington. It was in- 
corporated into the laws of most of the 
States, both from affection to the author and 
admiration of its contents. His last ^ords 
to Congress were as follows : 

*(The titaatioD in which I pow stand for the latt 
time in the midtt of the repreieiitatiTet of the peo- 
ple of the United States, natondly reealls the peri, 
od when the adminietzatioD of the present form of 
goTemment commenced ; and I cannot omit the 
occasion to congratulate you and my country on 
the success of the experiment, nor to repeat my fer- 
vent supplicationa to the Supreme Ruler and Sove- 
reign Arbiter of nations that His providential ears 
may still he extended to the United States ; that 
the virtue and happiness of the people may still be 

£ reserved ; and that the government which they 
ave iastitoted for the protection of their liberties 
may be perpetnal.** 

His administration has never been equal- 
led by succeeding presidents. Crc^dit was 
restored, the national debt secured, and 
means for its ultimate payment provided ; 
commerce prodigiously increased ; tonnage 
in American ports doubled ; imports and ex« 
ports both augmented; a larger revenue 
produced than had been calculated on ; the 
Indian War terminated ; foreign treaties, all 
honourable and advantageous to American 
interests, ratified. Even the election of his 
successor, Adams, a federalist, like himself, 
proved the magic of the name and measures 
of Washington. He retired to his beloved 
Mount Vernon, but he was not even then to 
•bid adieu, even at sixty«five, to the arduous 
duties that unquestionable ability entails on 
its possessbr, he was fated to die 

** Like a warrior taking his rest, 
With his martial cloak around him." 

An Open rupture with France appeared at 
hand. France herself being in a state of 
revolution, and disposed to violate wantonly, 
every moral, social, religious, and political 
principle. The instant war appeared ne- 
cessary all eyes' were turned on Washing- 
ton. Hamilton immediately wrote to him 
to apprize him of the sacrifice that he would 
again be compelled to make, and a letter 
from the president Adams intimated to him 
their intentions : '* We must have your 
name if you will permit us to use it* There. 


Mfftrhf Lift o/ Wnthimg^ 


will be more eflkieney in it than io many an 
army." Before receifing any reply* the 
president had nominated him commander- 
m-chief of the armies of the United States. 
It was unanimously confirmed on the 8d 
JuJjy 1798. From this time to the close of 
existence, Washington busied himself in mi- 
litary matters, and in supplying from his 
veteran experience information to his raw 
recruits. France, however, never seriously 
contemplated the invasion of America from 
the instant she saw the nation bestirring her. 
sel£ Buonaparte then came into power, 
and settled all matters with America 

This adjustment of diflerences, howiBver, 
Washington never lived to witness, dying in 
command of the army destined to operate 
against her ancient allies. On the 12th 
I^., 1799» he had ridden rcund his farms 
as usual, and returned late in the afternoon, 
wet and cold from the rain and sleet. The 
waters had penetrated through his clothing 
to his neck. A sore throat and hoarseness 
on the next day soon gave evidence that he 
had taken cold. He did not seem to appre- 
hend any danger, passed the evening with 
his family, and after some pleasant converse 
retired to bed. He was seized in the night 
with ague, and on Saturday, the 14th, his 
breath and speech became impaired. One 
of his overseers bled him at his request, and 
a messenger was sent to his friend. Dr. Craik, 
who lived ten miles off*. Dr. Craik and two 
other physicians arrived on that day. Their 
united efibrts proved useless^ Towards 
evening he said to Dr. Craik, ** I die hard, 
but I am not afraid to die. I believed from 

K first attack that I should not survive it. 
J breath cannot last long." He thanked 
the physicians for their kindness, and re- 
quested them to give themselves no further 
trouble, but to let him die quietly. He kept 
sinking gradually, and almost the instant be- 
fore dissolution felt his own pulse. His 
countenance then underwent a change. His 
band dropped from his wrist, and he expir- 
ed. His country paid to his memory,*-all 
that then remained to her of her Washing- 
ton—every possible tribute of gratitude and 
affection. France, then a republic also, 
paid due honours to the republican chief; 
and England, as far as the example of Lord 
Bridport, then commanding the fleet, may 
be given in prooC tendered a sincerer tri- 
bute still, by lowering her flag half-mast on the 
news of Washington's decease. He had com- 
manded during life the applause of many dis- 
tinguished men. Fox and Erskine mav be ad- 
duced among others. The former said of him, 
** Notwithstanding his extraordinary talent 
and exalted integrity, it must be considered 

as singularly fortunate, that he should have 
experienced a lot which so seldom &1U to the 
portion of humanity, and have passed 
through such a variety of scenes without 
stain and without reproach. It must indeed 
create astonishment that placed in circum* 
stances so critical* and filling for a series of 
years a station so conspicuous, his character 
should never have been called in question ; 
— that he should, in no one instance, have 
been accused either of improper insolence or 
of mean submission in his transactions with 
foreign nations. To him it was reserved 
to run the race of glory without experiencing 
the smallest interruption to the brilliancy of 
his career." 

Erskine wrote to Washington as fol- 
lows :— 

*' I have taken the liberty to introduoe your su. 
'gott and immortal name in a short aentence, 
which will be found in the book I lend jod. I have 
a large acquaintance among the moit valuable and 
exalted clan of men ; bat you are the only human 
being for whom I have felt an awful reverence. I 
ancerely pray Ood to grant a long and aerene even- 
ing to a lif^ BO glorioualy devoted to the miveiaal 
happineaa of the world.*' 

Washington certainly combined materials 
that wonderfully fitted him for the position he 
had to occupy. As a leader he appears 
calm, calculating, brave as his own sword, 
yet free from the general accompaniment of 
personal bravery — reckless hardihood. It 
is possible that all this might not liave told 
in a wider scene of action, and his mind cer- 
tainly does not seem to have possessed so 
much reach as many men of inferior note 
have shown \ but nature had well mixed in- 
gredients in her cauldron when he was 
formed, and, taken in a whole, his powers 
must be considered large. As a writer his 
style is greatly defective in succinctness and 
elegance, and coherence of sentences ; but a 
fine broi^d line of common sense and judi* 
cious reasoning is discernible throughout all 
he wrote. There are strong affinities of 
character and disposition between blip and 
Scott ; yet was he neither imaginative nor 
loyal, like that distinguished writer. Still, in 
the gentle placidity of their natures, there is 
a wondrous resemblance. They did not 
think alike on many subjects, save on the 
immutable forms of moral law, on which they 
were both agreed, and of which they were 
punctually observant. Probably the Bard of 
Cavaliers might not have considered, this 
comparison complimentary, but a resem- 
blance there is both in habits and inteUectt 
and piety. On this latter point we think it 
fitting to say a few words. Washington, 
never appears, in the latter years of his lifey 
to have taken the sacrament of the Lord's 


Sfmrki' Uft of Washmghm. 


Supper* though a constant attendant at 
church, and always advocating the cause of 
religion. We are inclined to think that he 
was rather a latitudinarian in his religious 
notions; since it is difficult to conceive a 
churchman, when dying, not outwardly testi- 
fying his faith, and uttering prayers for his 

Possibly the character of Washington led 
bim to much internal musing and inward 
untraced supplication of Gk>d, His charac- 
ter possessed great moral goodness, his life 
was free from reproach, and his external de« 
votions were constant. Still it is difficult 
to reconcile such a death with the holy and 
ennobling hopes of Christianity. Some* 
thing of such a system, if held deepat the 
heart, must have evinced itself. We do 
not say this reproachfully over the warrior's 
bier, but to us it would have been most sa- 
tisfactory, and to the world more strongly 
eividential of a firm indwelling hope, had 
there been even a slight development of the 
holy bodements of futurity. Still, in the 
duties of bis public station, in his charity to 
the poor, in the constant ascription of all his 
successes to the Divine Being, in the offices 
of son, husband, and brother, in his warm 
and generous friendship to his military as- 
sociates, and especially La Fayette, in his 
love to his country, there are no points of 
reproach, but in all these offices he appears 
to merit the highest commendatioD. ^ Non 
omnia possumus omnes*" 

In this combination of qualities is to be 
fiMiod the power of Washington. On him 
we conclude our remarks, in the language 
of his latest biographer* 

** It 18 the b&nuonioas union of the intellectual 
sad monl powera, rather than the splendour of 
aay one mit whieh oonetitutee the grandeur of his 
character. If the title of great man onght to be 
reaerved for him who cannot be chargeu with an 
indiscretion or a vice, who spent his life in esta- 
blishing the independence, the glory, and durable 
ppoaperity of his oountry, who suoeeeded in aU that 
IM undertook, and whoee ncoesaes were sever won 
at the expense of honour, justice, integrity, or by 
the sacrifice of a single principle, this title will not 
be denied to Washington." 

The laborious and accurate work,, to 
which the life we have reviewed, is prefixed. 

we are happy to learn, has been extremely 
succefl^fal in America. It is stereotyped, 
and more than 6,000 complete sets have 
been already sold. It is still selling with 
considerable briskness in the Southern and 
Western States, where literature penneaias 
with slower course than in those bordering 
on the Atlantic, by reason of the distance 
from Boston, the place of publication, and 
the difficulties of oonveyance. In the re- 
maining eleven volumes Mr. Sparks has 
adopted an arrangement of his multifarious 
materials into five parts ; the first embrai^ 
ing official letters relating to the French 
War, and private correspondence before the 
American Revolution, from 1754 to 1T76, 
two volumes; second, correspondence and 
miscellaneous papers relating to the Ame- 
rican Revokttion, from June, 1775 to 1783, 
six volumes ; third, private letters ftv>m the 
time Washington resigned his commission 
as commander*in*chief of the army to his 
first presidency, from 178d to 1789, one 
volume ; fourth, letters official and private 
from the beginning of his presidency to the 
end of his life, from 1780 to 1794, two vo- 
lumes; fifth, speeches aud messages to 
Congress, proclamations and addresass, one 
volume ; laborious indices follow. If Wash^ 
ington has not found a Homer to give to 
actual exploits ideal glory, he has at least 
obtained a faithful and affectionate bu>gra* 
pher, who hss given him to the world as he 
was, and few are the spirits that could have 
so well withstood its scrutiny, or have less 
needed fiction to embellish them. Whether 
we look on the private correspondence or 
the public documents of Washington, he ap» 
pears (reserving the question of hM allMfiance 
to the British Crown) to merit equally the 
position he attained. To his biographer it 
must have been deeply gratifying to trace 
in his writings ^ no line which, dying, he 
might wish to blot ;" in his actions no moral 
intemperance to be extenuated or defended 
by the force of circumstances ; but a sin* 
gular faultlessness, a wondrous freedom 
from all the vices that haveetained, degraded, 
and dimmed the lustre of many a helmed 
chief, many a crowned king, and many a 
mitred sovereign. 



Abt. IX. — Lts Barhares^ Byzance ei Rome^ 
par ChriBtian Muller, Dr. (Barbarians, 

I ByzanLiuro' and Borne, by Dr. Mailer.) 
Geneva, 1889. 


The work before us contains a Riost inge- 
nious and beautiful statement of the oriental 
origin of the^ German nation. It is written 
in a spirit of fair inquiry, and well calcu- 
lated, from the multiplicity of topics em- 
braced in it, to reward amply the time con- 
sumed on the interesting work. By various 
singular stages of induction the author con- 
trives to establish abundantly the. Indo-Ger- 
manic origin* Language, mythology, com. 
men rites, customs, and etymons, are all 
called to his aid, and when adduced are 

fenerally conclusive. The word German 
e conceives to be of Roman origin, from 
GermanuSf brother, and to have relation to 
the wild and careless freedom of the early 
tribes who, in independent clanship, ac- 
knowledged no superior. His etymon of 
Wehrnrwn, or Herman, from which the 
Roman name Arminius is derived, together 
with the Persiau Irman, implying a brother 
in arms, are all evident marks of common 
origin in some primitive tongue. He is here 
quite at issue with the celebrated Lipsius, 
who derived the word Gtrmanue from gerra^ 
ytar^ war-man. Equally sinsular and strik- 
ing, it must be owned, is tne analogy be- 
tween Tunah^ the Arabic for magic, and 
Runes. But though apparent traces exist 
of tribes springing near the ancient Getae, 
and the Goths being one and the same na- 
tion, yet does the character of the people 
vary extremely, for the Goths, however we 
may feel inclined to the contrary opinion, 
from the early misapplication of the words 
Goth and Barbarian as synonymous, cer- 
tainly did not injure, to any extent, the 
monuments of aDcieot Rome, if we give 
credit to Orosiue. Theodoric the uoth, 
Boethius and^ Cassiodorus, wc well know, 
uaed their united efiforts to teach Gothic and 

Latin, and Byzantine habits naturally in* 
duced Theodoric to infuse some portion of 
Greek science and literature among his 
people ; and while the Groths occupied Italy 
It was very differently circumstanced to 
what it afterwards became under the sole 
sway of the cultivated but effeminate Byzan- 
tines. In effect, the mythology of the 
Goths must have possessed great influence 
over the passions of a barbarous age — and 
how cold does the semi-philosophic legend 
of Greece look by its side ! The Goth and 
the Greek had each his superstition, but iho 
striking boldness of outline of the first, in all 
its pure orientalism, before men philoso- 
phized on the ancient legend, or Socrates 
and Plato had ennobled mythology by mak- 
ing it speak out with more than the words 
of the maddened Pythoness, with some infu* 
sion of the super-sensuous, must have had 
wondrous charms for the wild and singular 
people among whom it bad flourished in 
their own clime, and been transplanted 
thence in their seulement in the land of the 
conquered stranger. Valda, the Valkyrs, 
Elfs, Undines, Dwarfs, Giants, Odin, Thor, 
rhe Intermediate State, the mysterious 
Holle, the abode of Balder, all these were 
sung before Theodoric and his ehieft, and 
the bold Goths preferred the rough min- 
strelsy of the Scald, embodying, as it did,* 
their earliest associations, to the more po- 
lished tones of a music, however fine, still 
less free than the wild and bold descant that 
the harp of the north rung forth. The most 
celebrated version of the Bible also, it must' 
be remembered, the most glorious literary 
monument the time, the Tersion of Ulfilas,* 

* Ulfilae took the aneieni alphabet and the Ro 
nio letters for this venion, and by this means luo* 
ceeded in getting his work into a diape In wbieli 
tho Gothe could read it. By the Uandation ho 
made an immenee etep towards the civiltMtion of 
his people. It is the noblest moonment of the 
Teuton extant, and the first writinif of the middle 
The miiTsnIty of Upsal piu i si i ts the (rag- 


Critieal Skdchu 


owes its origin to this people, and the rise 
of the chivalrous ballaa may be traced pro- 
bably to the court of Theodoric long before 
the Troubeidour had poured forth his blended 
Paganism and Christianity, as we trace 
them in the Fabliaux ot Le Grand. The 
Frank and the Saxon occupied certainly, at 
this period, an inferior position to the Goth. 
Tet does the whole spirit of the British 
Church of that age partake of the indepen- 
dence that characterized the Goth. The 
Anglo-Saxon Church certainly manifested 
an anxious desire to proselyte aU surrounding 
nations to its faith, and to maintain this per- 
fect independence of Rome, which only tar- 
dily canonized these early diffusers of the 
Word from this very circumstance. Anglo- 
Saxon convents produced the celebrated 
Boniface, the venerable Bede, the learned 
Alcuin, and many others. Boniface, though 
unjust to Virgilius, who was, like Galileo, 
too philosophical for his age, was unques- 
tionably a great character, a man of a single 
object, to which he sacrificed himself in the 
issue. Otjjr readers may possibly thank us 
for transcribing the form of the baptismal 
confession of his period, which is curious : — 
*'Ik forsacho diabole end allum diabolgelde 
end allum diaboles werkum end wordum, 
Thunach ende Woden ende Saxnote, ende 
allum then unholdum the hira genatas sint." 
'* I renounce the devil and all devil's money, 
and all devil's works and words. Thunder 
and Woden and Saxonism and all devilries." 
This form, which is still nearly intelligible, 
though of the seventh century, to the British 
student, retains a strong affinity to our pre- 
sent language. Anglo-Saxon has not, how. 
ever, stronger affinities with English, as at 
present spoken, than German possesses with 
respect to Sanscrit, the Zena and Greek. 

menta of a preciocw MS. which in the thirty yean* 
war was carried by the Swedish eoldieri into Bo. 
hernia. It is on purple parohment, with cold and 
ailTer letters, and haa raoetred the appeUatioii of 
the Codex Argenteus. It is bound in silver, set 
with precious stones. Another MS. of this trans- 
lation existed in the Wulfenbuttel library, the Go- 
dez Caiolinus» We are indebted to the indefa- 
ticable researches of the celebrated Angelo Maio, 
wnen Ambrosian librarian, and now guardian over 
the treasures of the Vatican, for the identification 
of these MSS. with the labours of Ulfilas. The 
resuseitator of Cicero diseovered a MS. in peribct 
preserration under the name of UMlas^igontaining 
•ntire books of the ▼ersion in qoestiai, an epistle of 
St. Paul, and fragments of the Ora TesUment, 
taken from Ezra and Nehemiah. Who will give 
op in despair all hope of the lost treatise " do Glo- 
ria** extant in the time of Petrarch, the defective 
deeads of Livy, or eleven elder MSS. oi the Scrip. 
tores than the present, while these discoveries are 
making in oar own time, while the mummy pits 
femain unezhaasted« and Herculaneum and Pom- 
peii stai buied mider that cmst of ages, that soi- 
mioc contlnaes daily to penetrate 7 

In faking German, it must be remembered 
we seize on a language of the widest pos- 
sible separation from the great common type 
of languages in Asia, and if the analogy 
hold here, it is scarcely necessary to observe 
that it will be greatly more observable in 
those languages of apparently easier affinity, 
and later separation from the common 
father-land, at the first glance. 

Sanscrit and German — Bhrater, Brudcr; 
Hrti, Hertz ; Lobhi, Liebe ; Nama, Name ; 
Tura, Thnr ; Bhara, Bahre ; Sam, Zusam- 
men ; Sevara, Sehwur. 

Zend and German — Hechle, Bichel ; 
Frem, Freund ; Heso, Heiss ; Jare, Jahr ; 
Geie, Geist ; Dogde, Tochter, Daughter 

Between the German and Greek the 
analogy becomes yet closer, as we should 
naturally expect from the later subsistence 
of that tongue, and also from the inter- 
course of the Greek with all countries, 
which has evidently been far mater than 
is generally supposed, and on wnich a most 
iliteresting paper might be framed. 

Greek and German — >«x»^f» licht ; f^*^% 
Vater; "iwp'fw. schniieren; f«*>»fi faul ; «>*t 
Helle ; «f««Ti»» Kiste ; «7^»»»«, Ich kreische ; 
X«P» Heer ; »p«i»f«, Ich krSchze ; «^«yr», 

In these powerful instances the native 
force of the Grerman is never lost, and 
though we contend against the authority of 
Tacitus, who gives to them the honour of 
being indigenous to their land, we still argue 
that they retained more vividly their oriental 
originality than any other tribes from the 
same common stock. Tacitus of course was 
not enabled to judge them save from very 
loose grounds of conviction to the philologist. 
His words, *^ Ipse eorum opinionibus accedo, 
qui Grermaniie populos nullis aliis aliarum 
nationum connubiis infectos propriam et sin- 
ceram et tantum sui similem gentem exti- 
tisse," are confirmed by very weak physical 
arguments. The German language evident* 
ly possessed some of its present roots, which 
are cited hy Pliny, even in the first century^ 
Ulfilas, in his version of the four Gospels, 
gives us a fair specimen of the Gbthic 
branch of this tongue, which bears an ex- 
traordinary affinity to the modem German. 


Alter nnsar thu in himmam, 

Weithnai namo thain. 

Cimai than dinassus thains, 4us. 

Vater onser do fan Himifiel 
Geweit sey Name doin. 
Komme tu una Reich dein. &c. 

The language and nation fell together. 


<^receni ConHncnial Publieaiunu. 


Qotiuc WM 0poke9 even in the ninth centu- 
ry^ and all traees have sinoa been lost 
save in the Crimea and Basque provinces. 
An^o-SaxoB fell with its cognate language, 
and 00 this head we cannot but regret that 
so little attention b93 been paid by us to this 
intetesling study, even in the bare connec- 
tion with our own annals. The par ruck, 
the cTofU the lease, the summer-lease, the ox- 
leaae, the inead» the warth, the plash, the hang- 
ing, the linch acre, as a distinguished modem 
scholar remarks, still mark the ancient affini* 
ty with our present language. Anglo-Saxon 
shares the fate of all oriental languages, 
which are not in fashion at our universities, 
and the only recent attempts at orientalism 
evidently do not tend to produce more than a 
low kina of smattering, to give a moderate fit- 
ness for judicial respectabuity in India. To fix 
scholarship axaminations,a8 has been recently 
done in Greek and Hebrew, is the sure method 
to obtain no student good for anything in 
either, since either pursuit is quite adequate 
to occupy the attention per s$ of a youth of 
seventeen. The Anglo-Saxon of the fiAh 
century offers, in the following extract from 
the Lord's Prayeft a very close analogy to^ 
our own language : 

*• Faeder ore Ibu ths e«rt on hoofenma. 
Si thin nama geha]|[od. 
Tho be eama thin nca." 

While upon the subject of Anglo-Saxon, 
to which we regret we cannot anord more 
space in the present number, we have to 
direct the attention of our readers to a recent 
work on the '* Progress and Present State of 
Anglo-Saxon Literature in England," by 
Petheram, published by Lumley. Our pre- 
sent limits do not enable us to do more than 
to recommend it, as furnishing a complete 
analysts of the subject, indicating to the un- 
initiated in Anglo-Saxon the correct sources 
of information, and pointing out, even to the 
learned in that tongue, many points which 
they might neglect to notice or pass by in 
the course of rapid investigation. It is also 
without any portion of that extreme self- 
sufficiency whk)h so peculiarly characterises 
the lucubrations of one gentleman on that 
subject, exhibiting superior accuracy, and 
the beet test of genuine acquirement — modest 

After this period, the Latin being used 
for devotional purposes, gradually produced 
a disuse of the northern languages ; and 
those modelled on it, or who Admitted this 
dialect most largely into their own tongue, 
became the circulating medium of the world. 
But German stood aloof from all admixture 
in its original purity, and it awaited only the 
powers of Leasing or Gk)ethe, or similar 

VOL. XXVI. 14 

masters of tbefr own tongue, to throw before 
the world its yet untried power9, and to exr 
hibit the wondrous gem9 that . lay rough in 
the quarry until worked into brightness by 
men of hardihood, equal to the material 
elaborated » Yet around this language hangs 
still the Runic spell. The German can 
say nothing, can think out nothing as other 
nations do, and he aims at what his people 
did of yore ere bis Rune^ became lettenk 
Words fail to convey his meaning, and he 
would fain unite in his style symbols of mys- 
terious bodement as the Runes. Giant in 
conception, his ideas are as vast as that 
Runic inscription carved by the Danish king, 
now extant, occupying a tpace of ninety 
feet. Yet were it doing him foul injustice 
not to grant him; even when unsuccessful, 
the praise of the luckless charioteer of old : 

** Magnia taraen ezcidit aasi*.'* 

His work is yet to be cut out for him, 
and his giant strength limited to the possible ; 
and what may not be his influence on civili- 
sation. If the effeminate sunk before hiniy 
who dwelt in the gay pslaces of Byzantiiun, 
who shall stay him save by a manlinees of 
spirit equal to his own. And though the 
German mind will never approach the un- 
attainable eleeauce of the Greek, yet it will 
closely resenible its own glorious Grothie, 
which though defective in many points, is yet 
unequalled and amply mates by rival excellen- 
ces even the purity of the school of Athens* 
We may have much of Byzantine extrava- 
gance.much of the monstrous,much of the un- 
attainable attempted, but still shall we see the 
grand, the glorious, the dimly-shadowed but 
pure outlines of ^ceful tracery, the vague, 
the vast, the infinite, and in these glories who 
will more exult and strive to emulate them 
than that nation, both the love and imitation 
of the Germans, kindred in Saxon spirit, 
kindred in common manliness, kindred in all 
the noblest affections of the hearty aping no 
merit that it does not possess, and claim- 
ing the high vanta^e-groond of feeding 
Europe in arts, in science, and religion. 

Art. X.-— CktfAe/sfea i^fa» oeh HuguenU^ 
term. HistorUk TUUskiktring, af Abs. 
Cronholm. Lund, 1839. pp. viii, 510. 
8vo. (The Catholic Leaeue and the Hu- 
guenots, an Historical Sketch, by Crcm* 

Cronholm is a young and very promising 
Swedish author, already diatinguUhed for 


CrUieal SlUiches 


his ^^Wdringame'* anA Fam-Nordiska Min- 
nm" His situation of additional assistant, 
leeturer on history in the university of Lund, 
has naturally tended to preserve the direc- 
tion of his mind to historical researches. 

The work before us is full of merit. It is 
terse, energetic, and laboriously worked out. 
The best sources have been indefatigably 
made use of, and a satisfactory completeness 
pervades the whole. Bat in this, as in his 
other productions, we recognize the annalist, 
rather than the historian* We have none 
of those philosophical views of the causes 
and bearings of historical facts, without 
which history falls back into a journal des 
evif^emenis. We find no grouping, no paint- 
ing, no oh iaro oscuro. A uniform monotony, 
and a short stiff style of composition, inform 
us indeed of what happened, but without 
either lighting up our understanding, so that 
we see and grasp the whole historical hori- 
zon, or affecting our passions, so that we 
quickly individualize and eagerly follow the 
characters brought before us. Towards the 
close of his work, indeed, the author seems 
to have warmed a little with his subject, and 
we read this portion with greater pleasure 
and interest. As we havo nothing in Eng- 
lish on the whole so complete, we shall give 
one or two extracts of passages likely to 
interest our countrymen. Thus the follow- 
ing description of the Huguenots, under 
Henry II., during the residence of the young 
Mary Stuart at the French court, is clear 
and instructive : 

** If we torn to the interior of Fnnee we shaU 
difcover, it ie true, the leede of inward ferment and 
warlike moTements, but still as yet neither remark- 
able nor developed, nor possessing that character of 
force and bitterness which was gradually produced 
by pcxsecation and opponCioB. In Paris the mass, 
the immense majority of the inhabitants, were 
Catholic. Such men of science and members of 
the parliament as thought difierently from the 
Church, for the most part disinclined to embrace 
the whole system of the Reformation, wishing ^ 
general only the abolitioa of abuses, and in so fkr 
as these abuses regarded the State rather than the 
Church, their opposers bore the name of Poiitici. 
Next to Paris, the Reformed were strongest in 
Meauz and in Orieana In Burgundy the Refer, 
mation had penetrated only to the eastern border. 
L^onnais was warmly attached to Catholicism. 
The castles of the nobles along the banks of the 
Rhone had been thrown open to the doctrines of 
the Genevan priests ; so also were the cities at the 
foot of the Alpe. Provence was as orthodox as 
Spain. The Holy Virgin and the saints had still 
their zealous worshippers, and spiritual brotherhoods 
excited the fanaticism of the masses as a shield 
against all attempts to introduce dangerous novel- 
ties. In Languedoe were still found some reoollec. 
tions of the Albieenses. Many of the noblesse, 
enrased at the multitude of the estates of the nobles 
whiui had been bequeathed to phurchee and dois. 
ters, supported the Reformation. The nobility 
were also not disinolioed to oppose the royml aiu 

thoritVt which was exalted on the fragmeata of the 
abolisned feudal rights. The court was wanton 
and debauched; the reformed proyineial nobility 
endeavoured therefore to create a contrast thereto 
in their own life and morals. Brittany was Catho. 
lie ; Anjou was so in a less degree ; Normandy was 
divided between the two churehes, and Picardy 
was acted upon by Flanders, where the new doc 
trines had been extended together with civil liberty. 
The country masses were under the influence of the 
Catholic priesthood; the lower burgesses in the 
towns, partaking in the changeless unifonnity of 
their habits and occupations, and with a cirew of 
ideas, the more obstinately defended as it was lim. 
ited to a very small range, were reckoned among the 
hottest defendenof the Catholic Church. No muni, 
cipal riffhts were threatened by a government 
attached to the old belief ; very diflSsrent was the 
case in the Netherlands, where the cities embraced 
the Reformation, which they defended in conjunc- 
tion with their civil freedom. The guilds in the 
French towns ha^ their patron saints and their reli- 
gious festivals, and their ms[tanen consecrated, and 
upheld a religions persuasion undoobtedly in manv 
things confined to superstitious traditions, but which < 
in this petrified form so much the more obstinately 
opposea every attempt at improvement. The high- 
er burgesses had weight and influence through Uie 
considenble sums they naid to the public taxes, and 
through divem rights wnich they stiD retained, and 
which they extended during the existence of the 
League; such, for instance, as being freed from 
foreign garrisons, themselves electing their presi. 
dent (the Prevot des Marohands was the only civil 
officer named by the king), their forming a citizen- 
guard, and their right to banioade the streets and 
shut the gates of thenr town even against the king 
himself. We may easily see the very great conse- 
quence gained by the burgesses of Panst from the 
information communicated to them by Hency II., 
respecting bis campaigns. Marseilles, Toulouse, 
and Lyons, had almost the same privileeee.* But 
when whole co^xnations, towns and provinces, both 
from persuasion and self-interest, embraced the 
principles of the Catholic ChurcJi, the numben 
frriendiy to the Reformation could only have const!- 
tuted*a trifling minority. Nor were uey reckoned 
to be more than the seventieth part, or, according 
to another statement, the hundreth part, of the pop- 
ulation of Fraace.t No outward advantages were 
promised by apostacy ; only an inward longing and 
the force of relisrious persuasion could increase the 
membera of a Churoh threatened with confiscations 
and death at the stake.*^ 

The second chapter, which commences at 
the death of Francis II.* contains several 
valuable passages. One in particnlar, on 
France and the Council of TrenU we would 
willingly extracr. But its length forbids us. 
We prefer giving a description of the battle 
of Jarnac and the death of the great Cond6. 

** The reformed troops had reckoned upon avoid- 
ing a battle, under the protection of the towns of 
which they were in possession. But succass in this 
was only possible on one condition, that they should 
not be surprised before their separate corps had 
united. This union however never took plaoe, in 
consequence of the delay of the troops for which 

* Capefigite, Hist, de la Ligue, t. ill. p. 29 — 30. 

t Jbid. 

t CrsttJbtm, pp. 14, 15. 


of ream CanHnenial PublicaHans. 


Coiiffni had been waiting for three boon. At a 
brooK near BanaA, Coligni was attacked by the 
Catholioa, who at &Bt were etontly opposed, but at 
kit, headed by firisaae, forced the passage. La 
None, who lias immortalized himself as a wairior 
and a tactician* was here taken prisoner. He had 
shared in the battle, notwithstanding a fever had 
been for fonr days upon him ; it was with diffiealty 
he escaped the bk)ody sentence of Montpensier, 
who had said to his prisoner, * My friend ; tiie trial 
of yourself and your friends is over. Attend now 
to yonr soul.* La Noue's deliverer was Martigni. 

" In the mean time C^ligni.had driren back the 
enemy, and fortified himself behind another stream, 
where he was also'|»otected by a morass. In this 
position he requested and received support from 
Cond6. The evening before the prince had fallen 
with his horse, and carried his arm in a sling. 
When he met Cohgni, one of his legs was broken 
by a blow from an unruly horse. Nevertheless the 
prince was undaunted, and enlivened his soldiers 
with the following short speech : — * Forward, no. 
bles of fVance I This is the battle we have desired 
so long ! Remember in what a situation Louis of 
fcnrbon partakes in this contest for Christ and for 
his country ! ' On his banner was inscribed * Douz 
le peril pour Christ et le pais.' The Catholic forces 
had attacked Dandelot, who was posted by a vil. 
lage in the neighbourhood ; but the defence was 
gallant, and they were driven back. Their whole 
force was now assembled, and a|rainst this two bat- 
talions of cavalry could not hold their ground. Co. 
ligni made the first charge, and the Prince of Con d^ 
the other. At first nothing could withstand the 
violence of their attack, but the coips stationed near 
the morass was thrown into confuiion by the foreign 
cavalry. Further opposition was impossible against 
such superior numbers. Portant, the slayer of 
Charri, fell from his horse and was taken prisoner ; 
he was reconiized and cut down on the spot. Stu- 
art, who had wounded Montmorency on the field 
of St. Denis, was also taken prisoner, and died of 
dagger-stabs. Several other Ph>testant nobles 
shared the same fate. The Prince of Con66 fought 
with his Qsnal bravery, but it was impossible to con- 
tend against so many. His horse fell under him, 
but he still had defenders. The nobles of his camp 
gathered round him, and exerted themselves to the 
utmost to save or free the prince. In this dauntless 
band was La Vergne, already an old man, surround, 
ed by his sons and nephews, all young men, to the 
number of twenty-five. Fifteen of thess, beides La 
Vergne, fell fighting sword in hand. The rest were 
taken prisoners, and Uie prince's sauvegarde was 
gone. Cond6, who had sunk upon his knees, now 
iboght till he had strength to %ht no lonrar ; he 
then stretched out his glove to Tjsson, Lord of Ar. 
gence, whose life he once had saved, and gave him- 
self as Ids prisoner ; Argenee assured him that no 
danger threatened his life. But a Gascon noble- 
man, Montesqnion, captain of the Swl« Guard, 
shot the prince through the head dead upon the 
qrat. Cond^ bad foreboded this result, as soon as 
he saw that Montesquion was there. The Duke 
of Anjou gave free vent to his joy at his enemy's 
death ".•.•** which gave the mittle of Jamac a 
distinction it did not oSierwise merit, as the loss 
did not amount to mora than four hundred men, 
nor had the victory any important results." * 

The third chapter, which closes with the 
death of Charles IX., is full of important 
passages. The sketch of Coligni is eroin. 

* Cronbolm, p. 141-3. 

ently successfuK But we must hasten to 
the next chapter, from which we borrow the 
following account of the excommunication of 
the Bourbon princes :— 

" The Guises had more success in Rome. Siztos 
y. excommunicated Heniy of Navarre and the 
Prince of Cond^. Both were declared rebels and 
apostates, protectors and chiefs of the heretics, and 
worthy of the punishment appointed by tbe canon 
law against heresy, besides losing their principali- 
ties and lands, with all the rights attached thereto. 
They had forfeited their claims to the inheritance 
of the throne of France, and the Pope released their 
vassals from the oath of allegiance they had taken 
to them. The French Parliament declared this 
bull to be a violation of the soTcreign rights of the 
princes and kingdom of France. The latter also 
protested, and caused their protest to be fixed upon 
the gates of the Vatican, the most frequented 
churches in Rome, and opposite the statues of Paa. 
quin and Mortorio. They appealed to the court of 
the peen of France from Sixtus, * soi-disant P^m 
de Rome,* declared that he himself was a heretic, 
which they would prove at a free cooncir; and 
asserted that he was still a heretic and Anti-Uhristt 
in case *he should refuse to submit to its decision. 
The kings of the olden time had known how to 
tame * le t6merit^ de tels galans, com me est ce 
pr6tendu Pape Sixte,' whenever they had dared to 
go beyond their rip^htfol powers The king will 
revenge the injustice lie has suffered ; and in hope 
to obtain satisfaction he turns to all Christian 
princes, kings, and towns, whom this insult equally 

*' Another .defence, written by a French jurist* 
named Hotmann, contained bitter attacks against 
the Pope, who was called by several di^raceful 
nicknames. An anathema from Rome, and a de- 
fence so unmeasured, removed all thoughts of a 
peaceful reconciliation. Siztos V., however, was 
just ; he could not refuse his esteem to great quali. 
ties wherever they were found. * Only one man 
and one woman were worthy to govern,* said he, 
' if they were not heretics.' He afterwards named 
them, Henry of Navarre and EUnbeth of Eng- 

One good quality of this work is, that it 
abounds with extracts from contemporaneous 
writers and scarce tracts and pamphlets. 
The last chapter especially^ which carries 
us down to the edict of Nantes, derives addi« 
tional interest from this source. 

Art. XI. — Minnesinger^ Deutsche Lieder- 
dichUr der zwdlfien dreixehnten und vier» 
xehnien Jahrhunderten ; aus allenbe kann» 
ten Handsckriften und frUtheren Drucken 
gesammeh una herichHgt, tnit den Lesar- 
ten derselben, Geschichie des Lebens der 
Dichter und ihrer Werke, Sangweisen der 
Lieder, Rehnverzeichnisse der Anfaenge^ 
und AbMdungen sdmmilieher Hand' 

* Cronhoiro, p. 300. 


Cfitical Skdches 


sehriften. Von FHedrich Heinrich voo 
der Hagen. Vier Theile, 4to. (Minne- 
singers. German Song Writers of the 
Twelfth, Thirteenth, and Fourteenth Cen- 
turies; collected and corrected from all 
known Manuscripts and former Editions, 
with the various Readings : the History 
of the Lives of the Poets and of their 
Works, the Tunes of the 8ongs, the first 
Lines arranged according to the Rhymes, 
and Fac-Similes from each of the Manu- 
scripts. By Frederick von der Hagen. 
Four volumes, 4io.) Leipzig, 1838. 

This truly national work, so long looked for 
by all love^rs of ancient German literature, 
has at length appeared in a form equal - 
W honourable to the editor and publisher. 
In the present age of shilling parts and steel 
engravings, it is matter of congratulation to 
meet with four goodly quarto volumes, em- 
bodying the lyrical treasures of three cen- 
turies, rich in poetical feeling and expres- 
sion, from the prince to the peasant. The 
labours of Beneke, the Grimms, Lachmann, 
the editor of the woris before us, Graff, 
Wackenagel, Haupt, HodTmann, Massmann, 
Schmeller, and others, who have devoted 
themselves to their patriotic studies with 
quiet but untiring enthusiasm, together with 
tneir rich stores of multifarious learning, 
have gradually formed a numerous and con- 
stantly increasing circle of readers, who 
take a lively interest in the by.gone litera- 
ture of their country. The critical editions 
which have appeared within the last years, 
have established the laws of Middle Gorman, 
(miiieikoehdeidMeh,) and traced the historical 
proffre»8 of the language in many of its gra. 
dual changes and subtle varieties of dialects. 
When we look upon what has been 
done by our neighbours, we cannot but re- 
flect with regret that so much remains to 
be done by ourselves. We by no means 
undervalue the merits of those scholars 
who have recently distinguished them- 
selves by their honourable attempts to di- 
rect public attention to the language of our 
ancestors ; yet avast field remains still un- 
explored. To say nothing of the Anglo- 
Saxon, the laws and structure of which 
rest by no means on so sure a basis as 
were desirable, the breaking up of that 
language into middle English ; the influ- 
ence of the Danish, particularly in the 
northern counties^ which is observable in 
the common language of the peasantry 
even of the present day, and the gradual 
process of the formation of our modern 
uinguage, remain still to be investigated. 
We have, it is true, some works on the 
dialects ; but hardly one composed by an 

author of the necessary philological ac« 
quirements, or in a philosophical spirit } 
and the language of our writtf^s from 
Chaucer to Spencer, has attracted hardly 
any attention. Let us hope that the taste 
for our ancient literature which is now 
spreading) mav call forth scholars, gifted 
with knowledge and critical powers, 
which may enable them to throw light 
upon a subject in which elucidation 10 so 

But to return to our Minnesingers. 
These volumes contain the lyrical pro- 
ductions of nearly two hundred poets* 
of one hundred and sixty-nine, the indefa- 
tigable editor has ghren us the lives in 
753 quarto pages of double columns, a 
work of immense difliculty and labour. 
This list contains names of all ranks — the 
Emperor Henry, the young King Conrad 
(the last Minnesinger of the lofty race of 
the Hohenstaufien, who was beheaded at 
Naples,) and a long range of dukes» counts, 
margraves, knights, and other nobles. Nor 
is it to be assumed that these poems were 
written by the court poets, and given to the 
world under the names of the sovereigns or 
princes whom they served. ^ The proudest 
and hardest mind has its youth, its spring of 
poetry and love ;" and, in the general spirit 
of those fair and lofty-minded times, lyrical 
poetry formed as essential a part of edaca- 
tfon as chivalry itself, although both were 
I learned more from living example than from 
1 school discipline. 

I Thus, Uirich of Lichtenstein, as page, was 
tnught the art of poesy as well as the science 
of arms, by Duke Henry of Austria ; and if 
the poets of those times could neither read 
nor write, they could hear and speak the 
better. We know that Richard Cosur de 
[.ion, whose name history and tradition in- 
vested in poetic colon rs* like his favourite 
Blondol, wrote verses ; and even Chailes of 
Anjou, the gloomy executioner of the last 
Hohcnstauflen, has left us a tender song, as 
if in proof of a better Charles within him. 

The term Minnesingers, in its narrower 
signification, is employed to denote the ly« 
rical poets of the chivalrous middle ages ; but 
it is likewise employed in a more extensive 
meaning to include all those who have writ- 
ten in strophic measures. Taken thus it will 
even include some of the narrative poets ; 
nor is the German epic, or heroic song, so 
far removed from lyric measure as its more 
ancient predecessors of Greece or Rome, 
and some of the more simple epic measures, 
such as the stanza of the Nibelungenlied, 
wore often adopted by lyric poets. The pre- 
sent work, intended as a complete collection 
of all that has been composed in the lyric 


offoeni doniineniai PubticaHom. 


mMMure or eCr^pbef iDoludes besides the 
pure lyrical eampositionsi spiritcmi and pro* 
faae doogs; in short, all that in the varibtrs 
directions alluded to ahove can be included 
in tliia desorlpuooi with the exception of 
sueh narratite poerasas are notoomposed in 
sttophic ^hyme8. Th6 editor ha^ limited 
himself in point of time to the period com- 
prised between the first beginning of the 
twelfth, throagh the rich development of 
Qernmn lyric poetry daring the thirteenth, 
to the termination of the Minnesingei^s in the 
foarteenth century. 

During this period the princes and nobles, 
as we have seen, took the lead in singing the 
praise of ^* God and of their Lady p but in 
this last-named century, the citizens in the 
towns (and in some places, as in Switzer- 
land, even the peasants) attained greater in- 
fluence, and the corporate master-singers 
{Meisteradngir) gradually rose into exist- 
ence and renown. They first followed the 
example and adopted the measures of their 
chivalrous predecessors ; but^the difierence 
of position and of circumstances soon pro- 
duced a deviation from the ancient forms, and 
with the forms the spirit likewise died away. 
With the more general diflusion of literature 
and the changes of society, the master-sing- 
ers gradually declined ; and if we mistake 
not, it was in the spring of the present year 
that the four surviving members of this an- 
cient corporation bequeathed their relics to 
the Liedertafel of Ulm. The art of printing 
has given another direction to lyrical poetry; 
yet, perhaps, the Liedertafel (literally, s6ng 
tables), which are so numerous throughout 
Germany, may be considered as a weak re- 
flection of the traditionary national feeling. 

In point of fact, they may be compared 
with our madrigal societies, &c. ; we be- 
lieve, however, it is necessary in some of 
these to compose a song to be admitted as 
a member. Occasionally several of these 
unions form one larger society, including all 
the Liedertafels of a district or province ; 
and we read in the paper of song-singing 
feasts, in which several hundreds assemble. 
These are, of course, not to be confounded 
with the great musical festivals, in which in- 
strumental music forms the chief attraction. 

The principal materials from which the 
present work is composed are to be found in 
the celebrated Manessian manuscript, con- 
taining from fourteen to fifteen hundred lyri- 
cal compositions, by about one hundred and 
forty poets. It takes its name from Rudgcr 
von Manessa, a counsellor of the city of Zu- 
rich, who formed this collection at the be- 
ginning of the fourteenth century, when the 
fame of the Minnesingers was drawing to a 
close. In the year 1607 it was at Heidel- 

berg, and afterwards, ro<Rit probably during 
the thirty years' war, when the German 
manuscripts were carried ofi*to the Vatican, 
it was brought to Paris, where it still remains. 
After the occupation of the French capital 
by the allied armies, it was already in the 
hands of Greneral Gneisenau, but was given 
back, under a promise that it should be ex- 
changed for bth^t matiuscripts. 

In 1621), M. Von der Hagen ^as sent to 
Paris by the King of Prussia (the mufiifi- 
cent patron of the present work, to whom it 
is very properly dedicated), in order to com- 
pare the maiftuscript with Bodmer's previous 
publication. He was at the same time em- 
powered by the city of Breslau to ofier lA . 
exchange very valuable old French and 
Netherlandish manuscripts ; but the French 
government, notwithstanding the stipulation 
with General Gneisenau, refused to part 
with it, so that its illuminated portraits and 
initials remain an object of idle curiosity to 
the gaping visitors of the Parisian Library, 
and of deep regret to the German literati. 
The collation proved that Bodmer had not 
only left some insignificant parts unprinted, 
as he has asserted ; for at least one-seventh, 
and that by no means the least valuable parts, 
is now given for the first time to the public ; 
but his edition was found to be in other 
respects very inexact ; and the editor has 
taken the trouble of publishing a list of er- 
rata, contained in all former editions of vari- 
ous parts of the dififerent manuscripts. Pro- 
fessor Rassmann, at the request of M. Von 
der Hagen, and Dr. KoUer of Zurich, in* 
dependently of both, collated the Manessian 
manuscript, a sufficient guarantee for the ac- 
curacy of the work. With respect to the 
other manuscripts of Weing^art, Heidelberg, 
Jena, Vienna, &.c., and the nnmerous con- 
tributions of friends from all parts of Ger- 
many, who, with the characteristic genero- 
sity that distinguishes the eminent men who 
stand foremost in the prosecution of the his- 
torical development of their national litera- 
ture, vied with each other in assisting the 
editor in his arduous undertaking, we must 
refer our readers to the Preface to the first 
volume. The ancient Melodies, with a dis- 
sertation by Professor Fischer, will be wel- 
corned tiy all lovers of ancient music. The 
rhymed classification of the first lines of 
each strophe is a very valuable addition, as 
the Minnesingers were very strict in attend- 
ing to the prosody of the language. 

This short and imperfect account is mere- 
ly intended to make our readers acquainted 
with the contents of a work which is indis- 
pensable to every German scholar, who docs 
not limit his investigations to the study of 
more modern German literature. We shall . 


CrUiaU Shttcku 


probably ere long review it at greater 

length; bat at present we cannot devote 
more space to the subject. The universal 
approbation with which the work has been 
received in Grermany, is the best proof of the 
manner in which the editor has executed his 

Art. XII. — Oodofredi Hermanni oraHo m 

/^n. . . , M . y^ ft /^ ^ I miserably in labour and care, 

(Orauon in honour of the fourth Cente- thy of capital ^niMkmM, ^ 
nary Anniversary of the Invention of " 
Printing. Delivered in the Hall of the Uni- 
versity of Leipsicy on the 25th of June, 
1840p by Grodfrey Hermann.) Leipzig. 

^Tbe Gutenberg Jubilee, which was on the 

point of celebration as the article in our last 

Number went to press, has been celebrated 

from Christiana to Strassburg and Basle with 

becoming splendour. A few rubs have taken 

place; the Literaten of Leipzig (the term 

gentlemen of the press hardly expresses this 

new-coined Grerman word) were angry that 

the printers would not allow them to deliver 

an oration in the market*place, and withdrew 

in sullen dignity from all participation in the 

festivities ; but except this trifling difierence, 

and the difficulties which the Berlin com- 
mittee experienced in arranging the program 

for their celebration (which is to take place 

in the course of the present month) every 

thing has gone off very pleasantly. The 

speech of Professor Hermann, however, has 

excited in many quarters an unpleasant feel- 
ing, which was the more painful in conse- 
quence of the high respect for his attainments 

as a scholar, and the manly independence of 

his personal character. We shall, therefore, 

make a few extracts from it, to put our read. 

era in possession of the opinions of this 

eminent person. They are by no means 

flattering to the present state of things, 

but we think that his complaints of the posi- 
tion of the German G^lehrten, are not alto- 
gather ill-founded. The very opening is in- 
auspicious. It is not to be wonoered at, that 
the invention of printing, ** which, like a 
torch, was destined to diffuse light, should 
sometimes be accompanied with smoke, or 
cause a conflagration. For great things 
have the faculty of injuring, which is the 
test of power (?), and what is not feared, is 

After lauding the invention of writing, in 
comparison with that of printing, he gives 
the following characteristics of the present 
period : 

oommon ai&in of life. Bat they are as ^wrbtf 
and oifonnuipeet in the enltivation of trae leaning, 
as they are lavish and profase in what is deemed of 
more oonseqiience. For, although in some few 
eases, letters are enoooraged with a just liberality, 
not on acooont of their osefulnesi to the state, but 
for their own sake ; yet in general the condition of 
the learned is snch, that they cannot devote them. 
selves to their avocatiens, becanae they hardly enjoy 
the necessaries of life. And yet we see their slen- 
der income not only not increased, but diminished 
and cut down. Thus many of them pine away 
_f v._ ,_ , .^ . ^ whilst wreUhea, leer- 

are not only munificent- 
ly provided for in wholesome dwellings, but find 
themselyiBs well off, and laugh at the clemency 
which they will afterwards abuse, to the detriment 
of good citizens." 

We suppose that these strong expressions 
allude to the questionable tenderness and hu- 
manity displayed in the discussions on crimi* 
naljaw at some of the recent Landtags. 

" Admirable humanity of the age ! which 
is liberal to the profligate, but sparing in 
those things which form the soul and vital 
spirit of the state." This neglect of the 
learned, he continues, is of pernicious influ- 
ence on the book trade. None but books of 
ephemeral interest are published; those 
which require long study and labour do not 
find a publisher. He concludes this part of 
his oration with some severe remarks on the 
critics, whom he pronounces to be *' venal, 
and of the number of those frivolous writers, 
who, evdn if they would, are unable to de- 
cide what books are good, and what are bad." 
He blames equally the demand for the liber- 
ty of the press, and the timid spirit which 
pervades the censors. 

But does it not stand to reason that the se- 
verity with which the thoughts are restrain- 
ed, must excite that desire for a free press 
which is now so ardent throughout Germa- 
ny? We confess that, although the subject 
is attended with great difliculties, owing 
to the peculiar composition and connection 
of the German states, we do not despair of 
success, as many of the German governments 
show a praiseworthy liberality, and a sincere 
wish for the welfare of their subjects. 

The tone is very diflerent from that usual- 
ly employed on such occasions, but the sen- 
timents of such a man as Hermann are al- 
ways entitled to serious and respectful atten- 

»* The principal object of the age is to turn every 
thing to present profit. The education of boys and 
youuis is hastened, that they may learn as much as 

Art. Xni. — Tdlk^rMchau auf Reisen von 
Theodor Mundt, (Travelling Sketches 
in diflerent Countries, by Theodore Mundt.) 
Stuttgart, 1840. 

possible (and much of what they learn is useless), I „, , , ,. . i..., i _ .^, 

in as short a time as possible, acquiring only » ^^ have read this Utile voluqje with more 

much knowledge as is necessary to carry on the I pleasure than any of M. Mundt's former 


of recmi Coniinenial PuUieeiioni. 


works! The preface, or rather dedication, 
18, indeed, somewhat redolent of mawkish 
sensibility, and we really imagined it was 
addressed to some loved fair one, till we 
were undeceiTed by the conclusion, which 
we translate for the edification of the reader. 

•< Bat thou knowett, better than myieU^ what I 
wbh and atriye after, for m my life tbon liTeit, and 
thy life constanUy fires me on to faiieei deeds. Ac- 
cept then theee ecattered iketchee of popvlar life, as 
the necessaiY steps to more connected poetic deeds, 
and dear Kumpam and Wanderburseh^ where I 
havCiacoeeded, let me read in thine eyes thy praise, 
the only praise thai I desire." 

. This is indeed sad stufi! and the style is in 
general too florid. But as we read on, we 
found ourselves interested in the contents. 
Omitting his sketches in France, although 
containing several topics of interest, we pass 
immediately to the most valuable part of the 
book, the details respecting the so called free 
city of Cracow. 

By the treaty of Vienna the city was de- 
clared free, independent, and strictly neutral, 
and she was richly and generously portion- 
ed, for the year 1815 was a year of genero- 
sity; '<a// itspockeU were full of national 
happiness and liberty. Words and ideas 
were called into existence, which afterwards 
had an unpleasant sound.'' England and 
France signed the treaty, the other three 
great powers assumed the gracious title of 
protectors, but it is Austria that really rules 
over it. 

"Instead of being the first protecting power, 
Austria has become 3ie first and only coercive pow. 
or of Ciacow. Of the other two, Russia perhaps 
interferes occasionally in secret, but with iM usual 
prudence it throws the brunt of public ill-will on the 
shoulders of its imperial neiffhbour, reaping in secret 
for itself the advantages of their common policy. 
Prussia behaved with mildnee% and it was regretted 
that she did not take a more active part.** 

Afier alluding to the debate in the French 
Chambers, "and when was French policy 
any thing more than a debate," M. Mundt 
mentions in more respectful terms the good 
will displayed by England. 

** Should an English resident be appointed at 
Cracow, the Austrian policy would be reduced to 
no little perplexity, and that power would then re. 
oeive a wholesome lesson, reminding her that she is 
a Otrmmi po^er, and that her devotion to Russia 
ought never to seduce her to risk the honour of the 
Gmnan name."— pp. 131, 133. 

But leaving for a while the gloomy theme 
of politics, let us turn for a moment to one 
of the great departed — the hero Kosciuzko. 
Omitting tbe biographical notices, as known 
to most of our readers, we will introduce 
them to his monument, tbe hill of Kosciuzko. 

** The method, peculiar to the Sclavonic nations, 
of erecting a hill to tbe memory of their great men, 

desenres, in many respects, the preference above 
our statues, on which our age has squandered so 
ranch pious coquetry and sentimental beggary. 
(This hit at the Germans is by no means undMcrv- 
ed.) These natural monuments have not only a 
duration that defies the elements, and every yarietT 
of taste and form, but they are more truly national, 
inasmuch as they annex in the roost simple manner 
the memory of a sreat man to popular tradition. 
The people themselves undertake the work of the 

artist In the erection of the Kosciuzko 

monument, the whole nation co-operated in the 
most affecting manner. As soon as the work was 
resolved upon, at the proposal of Yitfcent Monkol- 
ski, the President of the Civil and Militarv Tribu- 
nal, all, without deference of rank or sex, hastened 
to offer their assistance. Ladies of noble birth took 
the spade in their tender hands, and the poor jour, 
neyman worked by the side of the proud countess, 
weeping for her country. Mothers led their^un- 
grown children to take part in the last honours ren- 
dered to him, whom all roles looked upon as their ft- 
ther. Old and young, the senator, tbe warrior, and 
the peasant, dog UmUkti^; and even a magnani. 
mous foe, the late iSnperor Alexandria of Russia, 
with those noble feelings that distinguished him, 
sent a considerable subscription. Thus the Mogila 
Kosciuzko grradually arose, the earth was sent from 
all the diffsrent provinoes, nay, it is said, even fhxa 
America, where Kosciuzko fa«gao his martial ca. 
reer, and from Solothum, in Switzerland, which had 
been the last asylum of the dying hero. The hill 
crowns the mountain of Bronislawa, so called after 
the daughter of one of the ancient Polish kings. 
The name is well suiM to this patriotic monument, 
for it signifies the defender of renown." — ^pp. 138- 

The 11th of September, the anniversary 
of the day on which the constitution, 1818, 
was proclaimed, is still observed as a day of 
festivity. The speeches of the ambassa- 
dors ** would not, at the present time, be aU 
ibwed in either of the protecting states, nor 
be printed in any in which the censorship 
exists." In consequence of the changes in 
1883, which were such that hardly a trace 
of its original liberty remained, the senate of 
Cracow proposed that the celebration of the 
anniversary should be abolishedy but it was 
ofllicially announced that it should be con* 
tinned with all possible demonstrations of 

A public procession, which becomes less 
numerous every year; a grand parade with- 
out spectators; a ball, which was put off, 
because there was reason to fear there would 
be no dancers; an illumination to empty 
streets, were the festivities which our author 
witnessed. A fire-work, however, proved 
an irresistible temptation, and commanded a 
respectable crowd. The ball, too, was 
given on the succeeding day; the police 
went to the shops of the merchants and 
tradesmen with subscription lists, and as the 
proceeds were to be devoted to the relief of 
tbe sufferers by the recent inundation, one 
hundred and thirty persons, of whom, how- 
ever, only a few attended, subscribed. The 


i^rUic^ Skit^h$$ 


poqple r^rf^QCjed themelvea bv a qnlire, 
giving a fMQOtical d^scfiptioQ of the siokoess 
mad doBlh of the fif<ee state of Cracow. The 
dissection is perfbrmed with professional 
gravity, apd the political history of the city 
interwaveii in the (nedica) dissertations. 
The result of the oousuhation was* that the 
deceased departed this litb inconsequence 
of the e^^rtions of the many physicians who 
undertook her cure« Of this attire many 
eopios were in circulation in manuscript. 

M, Mundl gives us 'm detail an- account 
of the gradual curtailment of the privileges 
of Uie Senate, and as the subject is likely to 
come again before Parliament, either through 
Sir Stratford Canning or Mr. Bllis, we think 
that his book might be translated with ad- 

Art. XIV. — Optre comphte del Cujaeio^ eon 
un nuovo metodo Distrihuite et RistampatB. 
In 13 vols, in 8vo. grande, dai Fratelli 
Giuchetti di Prato. (Cujacius's works 
complete, newly arranged and reprinted.) 
Florence. , 

In this country, save to members of the legal 
prolession, the name of Cujacius, a man of 
gigantic information, is scarce known. Italy 
furnishes us with a reprint of his entire 
works in 13 vols. They contain a complete 
course, embracing the whole of the ancient 
Roman law ; Salvius Julianus, Ulpian, 
ScsBvo la, Justinian (Pandects, Institutes and 
New Code), together with the Feudal Law, 
the Decretals of Gregory, and the cases, 
private practice, and opinions of Cujacius 
himself. One of the cases given, *'Si 
quadrupes pauperiem fecisse dicatur," might 
furnish ample matter for discussion to our 
special pleaders at the present period, as well 
as labour for our critics, on the sense of the 
word pauperies. But in charity to both we 
define pauptrie* iu the words of Cujacius : 
'* Pauperies est, si quadrupes hominem aut 
quadrupedem occiderit vel vulneraverit. 
Pauperies est damnum sine injuria facientis 
datum." The reprint of a work of this 
character, filled with much ancient learning, 
reflects great credit on the publishers ; and 
it is obvious to all that profit cannot be their 
motive, but simply the supply of a desidera- 
tum in literature. 

(New Dictionaiy of Sytionyni^ of the 
Italian Language.) Vol. I. Imp. 8vo. 
Florence. 1840. 

This work, which enjoys the patronage and 
especial fiivour of the Grand Duke Leopold 
II., who has granted the editor fresh literary 
privil^eSy ie of great utility ip dcewing tboee 
qeoessary distiQctk>os wbiob remove from 
language muck of its perplexity and diffi« 
cttlty.- These works do not necessarily 
spring, as is imagined by ^ome^ from the 
svipenor need which moderos have of exacti- 
tude of expression, from their progrees ia 
the varied sciences, since as early as the 
time of Aristotle there was evidently felt, as 
is manifest from the writings of that philoso- 
pher, a necessity for close diction between 
affinities. It is a branch of study that we 
are pleased to see is becoming fashionable 
in this country. We extract, by way of 
specimen of the work, the following :— 

" Marino, Marittiino. Marvno cb' 6 nel mare, 
del mare ; wumUimo ch' 6 preaeo al mare, cfae ru 
giiarda le ooae di mare. Dei marini, oile marino, 
acque marine ; eittd marittime, diritto marittimo.* 

** Marito, Spoeo. 

** Marito rigoarda l*anione corporea (Mas.) 8pu9 
(qui non ai tratta delle eponsalizie precedent! alia 
nozze), il vinoolo aociale (Spondeo.) Marito li. 
Bponde a moglie, come uomo a donna, epoeoa spoea, 
come congianto a oongianta. Spoeo e percio paiola 
piu gentile (in our language it ia quite the reyerM), 
ed eeprime ^Qnione d'uguali ; marito I'aotorita del 
roaechio suUa femmina. Al marito e'appartengono 
piu epezialmente i diritti e i doveri ; auo epoeo gli 
affetti. Gli oomini dimenticano prima d*eflMre 
apoei che dheaaer mariti." 

Art. XV. — Nuovo Dizionario dei Sinonimi 
della Lingua Ilaliana di Nicolo Tommaceo, 

Art. XVI. — 1. La Storia FioreiUina dai 
Tempi Elruschi fino alV Epoca attvale^ 
scritta da Giunio Carbone. (History of 
Florence, from the Etruscan to the present 
period, by Giunio Carbone.) 6 vols. 4tor 
Florence. 1840. 

2. Isiorie Fhrmtine scriUe da Giovanni Ca» 
valcaniif can Annoiaxione. Vol. Due. 
(History of Florence, by Giovanni Caval- 
canti, with Notes.) Florence. 1839. 

3. Documenli di Storia ItalianOf da Giu* 
seppe Molinu ( Docu menta of Ital ian His- 
tory, by Giuseppe Molini.) Florence. 

Thb first of the works at the head of this 
brief sketch was announced for publication 
in 1837. Few states have beeo ao graced 
by historical writers as Florence. The pre* 
sent writer, however, takes up her history 
from the conquered province of Etruria to 




modern times. The influence of Etniria on 
Rome, which was mighty though not ac- 
knowledged by the Romans, who adopted all 
her mysticism. Etrurian rites obviously 
pervaded her entire worship. Rome fell, 
Etruria remained, still preserving her dis- 
tinctivenesii. Even under the feudal system 
she raaiatained it still, and when Fiesole fell, 
Florence rose. Matilda fostered Florence 
into an independent state, and she now forms 
an imperiumin iroperio, not Austrian, -though 
ruled by Austria, and cherishing the appella- 
tion of Toacana, which she will never alter 
for Tedesca. Few histories can be made 
more interesting, if deeply probed, and 
Signer Giunio Garbone has bestowed years 
upon the question. The second work in* 
troduces to our notice the history of Florence 
by the celebrated Giovanni Cavalcanti, from 
whom Machiavelli borrowed to no small ex- 
tent. The work has remained inedited in 
Tuscany. Lami had promised to publish it, 
deeming it a work of the highest importance 
to illustrate the period it described. Grer- 
many, ever watchful Germany, had ex^ 
pressed a similar feeling. There is ap- 
pended to this edition a ** Treatise on Poli- 
tics" by -the same Giovanoi Cavalcanti, full 
of facts and circumstances illustrative of the 
period, and also a series of documents^s yet 
UApubiished, extracted from private and pub- 
lic libraries. 

" Godi, Firense, poi cha m* rigraade 
Che per mue, e per terra batti I'ali, 
E per lo *nferao fl tao nome ei ipande.** 

Art. XVIII.— iStorta dei Ptmi da San Pk- 
tro a Gregorio XVL (History of the 
Popes, from St. Peter to Gregory XVI.) 

' Turin, 1840. 

This compendium, which embraces an im- 
mense sweep in two small volumes, is obvi- 
ously written to maintain the untenable po- 
sition of the Pope's infallibility. There is a 
most atrocious mstance of Romanist unfair- 
ness in the very motto : '* In cielo, e per con- 
sequenza in terra, v' d un solo legislatore* 
un giudice solo, che puo saivare e puo pierde- 
re." S. Giacomo, Ep. C^toHca, iv. 12. 
**In heaven, and by coneequence in earth, 
there is one only legislator, one only judge, 
who can save and destroy." But St. James 
docs not use the words **in heaven, and by 
consequence in earth," this is entirely foisted 
m the text for the purpose of his bonk by 
Signor Henron. The passage in St. James 

Art. XVII.-^l. Opert ArckiUUonieke di says simply, *« There is one lawgiver, who 
Raffaello Sanxio. Firente. (Architectu- is able to save and to destroy." This law. 
ral Works of Raphael.) Florence. giver is evidetitly God from the context, 

2. Carieggioinedilo d^Artisti dei Seeoli 14, since, at the tenth verse we have, '* Humble 
15,16,17. Del DcU, Giovanni Gaye. j yourselves under the mighty hand of the 
Tom. 1. FSrenxe^ 1889. (Description of 'Lord, and he shall lift you up." To ascribe 

VOL. XXVI. 15 

The third work before us is the result of 
the author's labours over 1200 Vol. Fol. 
MS., relating principally to the political re- 
lations of France, and the other European 
states, from the reign of Charles VI. to Lou- 
is XIV. A chronicle of Pisa of the 12th 
century is also inserted. The documents in 
question cousist of the letters of popes, kings, 
princes, ministers, generals ; and Francesco 
Vettori, to whom we have alluded in the ar- 
ticle of Ranke, is given at full length, in his 
narrative of the sacking of Rome by Bour- 
bon's forces. It is scarcely necessary to add 
that even Sismondi might derive fresh stores 
from such a plenteous source. 

Artists of the 14th, 15th, 16tii, a&d 17th 

Centuries. Florence, 1830.) 
8« U Sepulero dei Volunni seoperto in Pe* 
rugia, net Febbrajo del 1840. Perugia. 
(The Tomb of tho Volumni discovered in 
Perugia, in the February of 1840. Pe- 

Tbb first of the works before us is intended 
to exhibit Raphael in his architectural might. 
Raphael in England is viewed simply as a 
painter. But as a sculptor and architect, and 
an archsBologist, his merits were of the high- 
est order. To illustrate the splendid archi- 
tectural designs of Raphael in the Palazzo 
Pandolfini Uguccione, and Stoppani, his de- 
sign for the church of St. Peter, the Vatican, 
&c., ia the object of the present work. The 
Italians live in the past, since in the present 
they have no political life. The second of 
the works at the head of this article forms a 
valuable pendant to the Documenti di Storia 
Italiana, and Le Storie Fiorentine del Ca- 
valcanti, of which we have already treated. 
The third contains an account of a recently 
discovered monument at the Monastery of 
St. Lucia. The seven beautiful urns, and 
has reliefs and inscriptions are given, togeth- 
er with a collection of all Perugian, Etruscan, 
and Roman inscriptions of the epoch of the 


MrntH Mroad and or ]ffMMr. 


ibis pamfe to the Pope, or any moitnl, is 
the height of blasphemy, and proves both 
the ignonuioe and presumption of the ao- 
ihor, to whom We recommend to learn to 
make aceurate quotations before he occupies 
the ground already partially covered by one 
distinguished historian, and certainly, what- 
ever be their defects, by men of some learn- 
ing, in his predecessors^ Artaud, Hurter, and 

Art. XIX. — Mouumenti del Genio Litera*- 
rio d^ogni Naxione. (iMonuments of the 
Literary Talent of all Nations.) 24 Vols. 
8vo. Florence, 184Q. 

There exists at Florence an Editing Soci- 
ety, of which Eugenie Albliri, whose work 
on Catherine de' Medici we have noticed in 
fhe present Number, is the founder. This soci- 
ety has sent out a notice to the world of its ia« 
tention to publish the voluminous work be- 
fore us, as a tribute from Italy to the intelli« 
gent of every place and nation.. We ex- 
tract their address : '^ Venite cittadini del 

mondo; venite, hoi vi salutiamo fratelli ; noi 
vi diamo riconeecen2a, ed amore perch^ 
avere giovato all' universe." Italians are 
diflerent from us, <* The cold in clime are 
cold in Mood;" and we therefore abstain 
from any comment on this fine peroratioUf 
and we have only to thank our southern 
Brethren for their ardent invitation. The 
first volame in the series is the Bible^ accord- 
ing to the received Romanist version, which 
is not the Bible, any more than it is the Bre- 
viary. Greek and Lathi poets and orators 
are to follow. The Greek and Latin Fath- 
ers next ; of course, an abridgment. Early 
poetry, the Edda, Ossian? and the Nibelun- 
genlied. The Cid Romances, and the Lays 
of the Troubadours and popular songs ; Ori- 
entaly Sclavonian, Chinese, Arabic, Persian 
and Indian poetry. The elder Italian poets, 
prose, traffic, and comk: writers. Spanish, 
French, English, and Qerman literature fol- 
lows nexty embracing the tragic, comic, and 
romantic writers of these nations. The 
work of a life is before the Florentine Edit- 
orial Society, and to them, when their work 
is done we dhall exclaim in their own Ian- 
guage, ** noi vi diamo nconoscenza, ed amore 
perchi avere giovato alV universo^ 



Only four new operas have been produc- 
ed in Italy during the past spring and sum- 
mer. They were — CrisUna di Scozia^ by 
Nini, produced at Genoa, (which was more 
successful than any new opera has been for 
some time.) Xftnt, by Pedrotti, at Verona, 
proved a failure ; and the same may be said 
of La lifodteta, composed by Lillo, and 
brought out at the "Teatro Pergola" at 
Florence. The remaining opera, by Gulio 
Alary, entitled RosamandOf met with some- 
what equivocal success. 

The lour great theatres in Italy, the Fe- 
nice in Venice, the Scale in Milan, the San 
Carlo in Naples, and the Apollo in Rome^ 
have been chiefly engaged in the representa- 
tion of Donizetti's Gemma di Vergy, and 
Roherio tTEvereux. 

The eompoftitions of Donizetti contmne 
far more attractive throughout Italy than 
those of any other composer, however vast* 
ly superior. No less than thirteen of his 
operas have been produced at thirty-four 
theatres in Italy, during the last three 
months.. Gemma di y^gy was produced at 
eight distinct theatres. The next eompo- 
sers whose works have been chiefly perform* 
ed in Italy, have been Bellini and Rossini. 
Four operas, composed by the former, were 
produced at 14 theatres; his Beatrice di 
Tenda^ at 6 ; while seven of Rossini's operas 
were performed at 12 theatres, Giuglielmo 
Tell proviQg the most attractive. Four of 
Mercadante'e, and the same number of Luigi 
Ricci's operas were also produced during the 
same period. 

Naplbs. — The Teairo Fondo has been en- 
gaged for the prodttotion of oomedies* while 


Jlimna Mroad and at M^fm, 


the Teatio Nuova opened with Coppola's 
iVMta, and Bellini's Punlaiit; in both of 
these operas, and in Mercadante's €Hwra^ 
meniOf which was afterwards produced^ Gh- 
ovanni David excited the utmost enthasiasm. 
The San Carlo has engaged an efficient 
winter company, consisting of Pixis, Maray, 
Gruiz, and a host of talent. The ^* Maestri 
Compositori" engaged, are Pacini and 

Genoa. — The season at the Carlo Felice 
commenced with Nicolai's Templario, 
which, with the aid of a new grand opera by 
Niniy entitled CrisHnadi Semoj continued 
throughout the whole season. The Maestro 
Nini has proved himself, by this opera, wor- 
thy to be placed in the second ranlk of com- 
posers. The composer's prima donna (Ma- 
rietta Spinach), and tenor Baiviy were, of 
course, called forth to receive the usual bois- 
terous compliment. 

Milan, — ^The season at La Scale has not 
been attended with thd production of any 
novelty, although the company has been ex- 
ceedingly powerful and effective. The ope- 
ra of Odda di Btmauerf by Lillo, which has 
been so frequently before the English public, 
as Agn$9 Bemau€r, The Secret Tribunal^ 
and under various other titles, was perform* 
ed for a few nights. Rossini^s Nuova 
Moe^, and Speranza's Due Figaro^ were 
afterwards produced with more success. 

Miss Kemble's singing has greatly im- 
proved, and her voice is very powerful. 
Raumer says, ^ People, nevertheless, conu 
plain that her voice is not strong enough for 
the Scale ; but where is the human voice 
that can^ for any length of time, fill so vast a 
space, and rise above such an orchestra, and 
such a clamour of tongues. All that with 
us is most extravagant in this respect is a 
mere trifle, in comparison with what is here 
the order of the day.^* 

Plosbnob. — In this town no less than 
seven theatres have been open. At the 
Teatro Pergola, under Lanari's manage- 
ment, Bellini's SamnawUnda and Rossini's 
WiiUam Ttll were rendered highly attract- 
ive by the valuable aid of Ivanoff, Taccani, 
Bertolini, and Ronconi. A new opera by 
Gulio Alary of Milan, a Frenchman by 
birth, and entitled Roeamanda, has been pro- 
duced with considerable effect, but although 
the composer was called forward, it has not 
had a long run. At the Teatro Cocomero 
Ricci's Eeposti^ and a new opera by Lillo, 
entitled La Moduta, hav^ been the recent 
favourites. The new musical journal, JRs- 
meia MuekaU, has ceased. 

Vbrona. — A new opera by Carlo Fe- 
drotti, and entitled Lina^ was produced at 
the Fiiarmonico Theatre, but as there ware 

no striking beauties in the whole perform- 
ance, it waa soon withdrawn for Ricci's Pru 
gume di Edinburgo, Pedrotti, who is but 
twenty-four years of age, has another openii 
Clara del Mainland^ nearly ready. 

Vbnicb. — Our fair oountrywooian, Miss 
Mary Shaw, has been delighting the Vene- 
tians at the ^ Teatro alia Fenice" by her per- 
formance of Arsace, ip Rossini's Semiramide, 
and Donizetti's Gemma, di Vergy, The new 
opera of IdOf expressly composed for this 
theatre by Nini, was also produced, but after 
a few representations ii was withdrawn for 
Donizetti's Maria Stuarda^ 

Rqbib.— The Argentina Theatre haabeea 
more successful in the production of its 
operas than the great Apollo Theatre. Rio* 
el's Prigione di Edinburgo^ £>onizetti'a 
Elisirt and Rosj^ini's If^gqnnOf have al} 
proved highly attractive, by the aid of tbo 
two prima donnas, Secci and Cresci ; their 
voices are both described as very perfect and 
beantiftiL Teresa Cresci is seaicely twenty 
years of age, and she is besides a distingaish* 
ed pianist. 

BoLooNA^*-<«Mttrcadattte^8 G^'iifXiflieatfo has 
beenaa attraetiva feature at the little Gomea 
valli Thentie. Mdllob Dunxmt, from Pesth 
in Hungary, the prima donna,, has been d^ 
lighting the audienoe. Raasini's Semirm* 
wide was afterwards produced, bm in this de« 
Ijghtfttl opera she was less effiwtive. 

Sicily. — A new collectipn . of Sicilian 
airs has been arranged by Signor Molilino, 
an amateur. He has been at some pains (0 
travel through the island to collect tbeai» and 
they will shortly be published. 


CoPBNHAoBN* — The new Danish opera 
Ravnen, by a native composer, J. P. B» 
Harttnann, continues to attract great atten- 
tion. The opera is in three aeta, and eon^ 
tains many brilliant passages^ A maroh in 
Bellini's style, and a song by Jennaro, cpm? 
mencing ^^ Dart durch die Eirchefrfemt^ 
klar,^ are evidences of the existence of su- 
perior musical power in the young com- 

The present King of Denmark is exceed- 
ingly fond of music, and has secured the ser. 
vices of Schneider, Marschner, and Hart- 
mann, three very efficient composers. 

The progress, or increasing taste, for mu. 
sic In the northern nations may be shown 
by the fact of the publication of a musical 
journal in the remote town of Bergen, in 
Norway. This periodical is entitled Apollo 
en Sammling af Originate CompoeUionee 
norike Pteldmelodiee^ og et udoale af Udlau' 
teie meeet yndede musik^ and is editeid by Ru- 
dolph Wiiimers. 


Mm9ie jibroad mnd ai Hame^ 



In the moBt ancient Russian Tocal music 
there are no Ihiea, but the notes are placed 
above the words, in two, three, or four rows, 
according to the number of voices. To avoid 
confusion, these are written in red and black 
ink, which ahernate regularty for each row. 
This appears to be a more ancient method 
of notation than our six-line books in Eng- 

Peterthe' Great, in 1710, besides the in- 
troduction of kettle<lrums, hautboys, bas- 
soons, horns, also brought a carillonen named 
Foerster* from Silesia, who was furnished 
with a set of keys and pedal to his carillons, 
as they do in most of the Dutch towns. To- 
wards the close of his reign the Czar in- 
troduced German music through the 
means of his son-in-law the Duke of Hol- 


The Drama is much cultivated in this 
country. M .Breton de los Herreros, who 
is the ^'Scribe" of Spain, has two new pie- 
ces in nightly representation. His new 
comic piece of Una Vieja has been a favour* 
ite with the public ; his romantic Drama 
of Velveto DolfoB, founded on the murder 
of Sancho II. before the walls of Zamora, 
has obtained still greater success. Ei 
Conde Dnn Julian, a tragedy having for its 
object the conquest of Spain by the Moors 
.^the production of a young writer named 
Principe — produced quite a sensation and 
furore at Saragossa (the author's birth- 
place), where he was obliged to make his 
appearance night after night before the 
audience, and was sometimes called for 
more than once in the course of the same 

Mercadante's Elena di Feltre and Doni- 
setti's Lucrezia Borgia have been highly 
attractive at Barcelona; the chief favourite 
at Lisbon has been Donizetti's Marino 


ViBNNA. — The operatic company has 
been exceedingly strong in talent, consisting 
of Mdsls. Unger, Frezzolini, Rita Gabussi, 
Luigia Abbadia, Marietta Brambilla, Napo- 
leone Moriani, Catonc Lonati, G. Roppa, 
G. Ronccni, C. Badiaii, P. Novelli, G. 
Frezzolini, A. Benciolini, and G. Visanetti.. 
Ten grand operas have been produced 
during the summer season commencing at 
Easter ; of theso, five were the compositions 

* A wt of theto wu erected in the ^don of 
the Imperial Pialmce, which were played hj water. 

of the prolific DonizettK— lAtcr^^ia Borgia 
was repeated twelve times, Luda di Lam* 
mermoar eleven times, Parinna eight, and 
Gtmma di Vergy four times; ot Merca- 
dante's, £2sfia di Feltre was produced eight 
times, and // Giuramenia five times ; Bel- 
lini's Beatrice di Tenda was repeated eight 
times, and his Monieccki et Capuleti but 
once ; Ricci's Prigione di Edinburgo was 
repeated four times, and Fioravanti's La 
CanUUrice vUlane five times. 

TAs Drama.-— The most attractive dra- 
matic performances have been Raupach's 
Miller and his Child^ interspersed with 
music by Proch ; The Faithless One, and 
the Legacy Hunter by Nestroy ; and a bur- 
lesque on the Huguenots, entitled The Siege 
of the Eleventh mth the Twelfth, or Half' 
past Eight until a Quarter to Eleven^ by 
J. Schickh. 

Berlin. — The long -continued mourning 
for the late king, add^ to the departure of 
most of the nobility for the baths, has had 
considenible influence on both musical and 
dramatic performances. Mademoiselle 
Scbebert has been prima donna at the Opera; 
her voice is sweet, yet by no mengs power* 
ful : as Romeo, in Bellini's Montecchi ei 
Capuletif she was warmly received. Made- 
moiselle Schilltze was the Giulietta, but her 
recent illness has prevented the repetition of 
the opera. Rossini's Otello, and Goethe's 
Faust, with Prince Rad^iwil'a music, have 
also been succes^ul productions. Herold^s 
Zampa, and Bellini's Norma and Puritani, 
have been among the moat recent pet form - 
ances. Mozart's Requiem was fierformed 
at the palace under the direction of Spon- 
tini, on the anniversary of the death of the 
Queen Luise, and received especial marks 
of favour. 

Ernest Raupach is engaged in the trans- 
lation of Racine's Jlthalia, by the express 
desire of the King of Prussia, who has also 
engaged M. Meyerbeer to set the chorusses 
to music, whh a view to the productioa of 
this favourite tragedy at the Theatre Royal, 
Berlin. In this, as in numerous other in« 
stances, the king has shown himself a great 
patron both to music and the drama. 

An exceedingly interesting work, entitled 
Die deutschen Volkslieder mil ihren Sing* 
jeetseUf has been collected and brought out 
by £. and W. Irmer at Berlin. The fifth 
part has just appeared, and contains sixty- 
nine songs, published by Plahn in Berlin. 

Brbslau.—- Mademoiselle Fanny Lutzer 
has been the leading musical attraction. 
Her performance in Robert le Liable, Jfor* 
mOf Puritani, and in Figaro^ called forth 
the noost enthusiastic applause — flowers, 
wreaths, and the attendant mummeries, were 


Mu9ie Abroad and ai Borne* 


liberally showered upon lier. A fiitx debiu 
tante. Mademoiselle Dickmann* is likely to 
divest her of some of ht^r laurels, being by 
far tbe best dramaiic performer of the two. 
Pragvb. — This city has been very fortu- 
nate in securing the talents of a first.rate 
operatic singer, Madame Hasselt - Barth. 
This lady possesses a powerful voice, over 
which she exercises the most perfect control : 
she sings with great taste and naivetid) and 
is moreover exceedingly happy in the deline- 
ation of dramatic action : — her Donna Anna, 
in Bellini's JformOf Antonina, in Donizetti's 
Beiiaarioy and 6ii\}ietta, in Bellini's Jlfon- 
tecchi et Capuleih were all perfect perform* 

The Drama, — The new farce by Nestroy 
in four acts, entitled The Legacy Hunier, 
recently brought out in Vienna, was intro- 
duced to the public in this city, and met 
with considerable favour. A new piece in 
two acts by Kaiser, DiemibotewmriheckafU 
has also been successful. Saphir's new 
drama, . Guienberg^s Naehfaer, is in active 

Lbipzio* — The Italian operatic company, 
under th^direetion of Morelli, gave Doni. 
zetti's Bensario to a small but fiuhionable 
audience. This company finding but little 
encouragement in this musical city, will 
take their departure for Pesth immediately. 

MimicH* — Gluck's Alceste has been 
brought out under the direction of the com- 
poser Lachner, and proved eminently suc- 
cessful with Madame iMink as Alceste. 

1678. — ^^Haxbuboh. — The first opera 
exhibited on a public stage here was Adam 
and Eve by Theile, and OronUa tbe same 
year. In many of tht*sc early operas, sung 
in the Italian manner, the recitative was in 
the German language, and the airs gene* 
rally in Italian — an absurdity practised in 
England — and, as Burney very properly 
meotionsy for tbe honour of our nation it 
was not English aCtdiences alone who tole* 
rated it. 

1704. — Handel's opera of Almira was 
performed. Mattheson, Telemann, and 
others, contributed lo the entertainment of 
the city of Hamburgh, where six operas 
were sometimes produced in a year* (See 
the list in Marpurg's Hislarisch^Kritiache 
Beytrdge.) The Emperors, from the time 
of Pef^inand II. to Charles VI., seem to 
have had an invariable partiality for the 
Italian language and music. Triani, Conti« 
and the two fiononeinis} were in the service 
of Leopold and Joseph. 

The Musical Society (Musikverein) of 
Heidelberg have offered a prize of twenty 
ducats (9Z. lOf.) for the best trio for the 
piftDofori6» violin, and violonoeUo, consisting 

of the usual four parts-*-altsgro, adagioy 
scherzo, and finale ; the score music to be 
sent to ithe Secretary, A. Schussler, al 
Mannheim, before the month of December, 

1840. The music score of each is to bear 
a motto on the title page, but the name of 
the composer must not be mentioned, except 
in an accompanying letter bearing the same 
motto, whereiA his name» residence, and 
profession are set forth. 

The new musical annual, Orpheus, for 

1841, published by Dr. Schmidt, contains 
several original compositions by Fischhof, 
Lachner, Meyerbeer» &c. 

Dbbsdkic. — The doors of the Opera 
House are stiH closed, but the company^ 
consisting of Schroeder Devrient, Tichat- 
scheck, Paulif and Baner, are expected to 
assemble in a few days. 

The German Nations l-Verein for the ad- 
vancement of musical science* who recently 
ofiered a prize of twenty ducats (91. 10s.) 
for the best score to the 120ch psalm, have . 
just decided, that of the thirty-five works 
sent in, that of P. Hetsch, of Heidelberg* 
should receive the promised reward. The 
judges were Dr. Spohi, Dr. Schrdder, Re» 
issiger, von Seyfned^ Scbnyder, von War* 
tenberg, von Rinck. and Dr, Schilling. 

The celebrated musical library of the late ' 
Professor Thiebauf, of Heidelberg, has been 
purchased ' by the government of Baden. 
This library comains 1500 volumes of theo- 
retical works, — a collection of the master, 
pieces of modern and ancient writers,-<-and 
a large collection of the national airs of all 

A host of talent remains concentrated in* 
Baden and Frankfurt; — Moscheles, Ole 
Bull, Thalberg, Ghyssiand Miss Clara No- 
vello — the three first named have excited 
the greatest enthusiasm in Fcankfurt and 
also in the principal towns on the Rhine. 

Wbimab. — Miss Clara Wieck, the cele- 
brated pianoforte virtuoso, had the honour 
of performing before the Empress of Russia, 
the Grand DNiichess, and the Princess Maria* 
Holding the most complete command of her 
instrument, and combining an exquisite deli- 
cacy of touch, she executed some of the 
finest compositions of Bach, Mendelssohn) 
Liszt, Thaibere, and Schumann. This dis* 
tinguished performer will shortly leave for 
St. Petersburgh, whither she has been in-^ 
vited by the Empress. In the meantime, 
Dr. Robert Schumann, the indefatigable 
editor of the JVet^e Zeiochrift fk- Mueik^ 
will most probably lead her to the hynneneal 

The number of musical publications which 
. have appeared in Germany during the second 
i three months of the present year oootinue 


Mmie Mr^mi- amd ui jEfiMidL 


IB excM8 of UuMe publiabed during: the cor* 
fesponding period of last year (1839). Of 
758 musicai conpositioos, there were— 40 
Orchestral pieces, 41 for the Vioiiii» 20 
VioloDceUo, 23 Pluie, 18 other wind Instrn- 
moots* 1 1 for the Guitar, 8 for the Harp, 
851 Pianoforte, 10 Or^, 26 Church 
Hymns, 13 Concerted Pieces, 181 Songs, 
and eleven works on musici exclustre of 
musical newspapers, and of seTonteen com- 
plete operas* 


Paris. — The Italian Opera opens this day 
(October 1st) with Bellini's Puritam. The 
company will consist of MM, Robini, La^ 
blache, Tamburini, Mario do Candia Mirate, 
Campagrmli.and Morelli ; and of Mesdames 
Grisi, Persianiy and Albertazzi. Though 
Madame Viardot (Pauline Qarcia) has re- 
turned to Paris, she does not appear to have 
been engaged at the Italian Opera ; nego- 
ciations have been entered into between her 
and the Aoademie Royale de Musique ; but 
the terms required by her are said to be 
such as to leave little hope of their ending 
in an engaoemenL At this latter theatre 
Mademoiselk Heioefetter is engaged for 
three years at the rate of 800/. for the first, 
1200/. for the second, and 1600/. for the 

The stamp duty on music having been 
I'epealed throughout France, the proprietors 
of the several musical journals are petition- 
ing for the remission of the stamp duty on 
all publications devoted to the ** divine art." 

Meyerbeer's new opera, UAnabaptiMt^ is 
to be produced in Paris early next season. 
Madame Stolts will perform the principal 
character, it is in five acts, like Robert le 
Diabh. His Les Huguenots have been per- 
formed upwards of 200 nights. Donizetti 
has led for Rome. 

The Academic Royale has been newly 
decorated, and the opera of Joconde^ by 
Isouard, has been revived at the Op^ra Co- 
mique for the development of Mademoiselle 
Anna ThHion's talents. The Siradella of 
Niedermayer has been reduced to three acts. 

Berlioz's Funeral Symphony is spoken 
of as the finest composition that has yet 
proceeded from his pen. Perhaps the Di' 
rectors of the London Philharmonic will let 
the public hear some of this writer's compo- 
sition next season. 

At the Vivienne promenade concerts an 
overture in F minor, the composition of 
Mr. H. B. Richards, of the London Royal 
Academy of Music, has been received with 
the most enthusiastic applause; when this 
overture was first performed at the Roysl 
Academy it was very coldly received, a 

proof that Ae aeademiciftna do not appreci* 
ale good music. 

ATHSifS.--^The government hay* voted 
the sum of 5,000 Augsburgh gukleo for the 
establishment of an Italian opeva in this 
city. Bellini's Jforma and Somnambula 
have been recently produced with consider- 
able success. 

At St. Jago, in the island of Cidia, in 
South America, Bellini';^ CapWa^is^ .¥011- 
ieechi and Morma have been perfcnrmed by 
an Italian company in a very efiective man- 
ner, but Rossini's Barbiere de Ssfng/,M has 
proved' by for the greatest attraction. 


The opera season has terminated, and the 
doors of Her Majesty's Theatre are once 
more closed, we trust never again to open 
under the same management. With the 
attraction of the unrivalled Grisi, Persiani, 
Rubiai, Tamburini and Lablache, the theatre 
was nightly filled, but what werej^ enter, 
tatnments set before the public?' T^rquato 
7bt«0, BeiUriee di Tmda and Inez de CasirOf 
with old stock pieces of Donizetti and Bel* 
lini, not one of which presented the slightest 
claims to merit. The only real gain to the 
musical public was the introduction of Signer 
Coletti, Mademoiselle De Vamey and Signer 
Ricciardi; the former is decidedly an artist 
of first-rate ability, and will assuredly meet 
with that success on the continent which his 
talents so fully merit. The two latter were 
equally unfairly treated by those who are 
unable to distinguish merit from reputation. 
Mozart's DonJuaUf and Rossini's Figaro 
and Barbiere^ were the only revivals really 
commendable. It is, however, due to the 
band of this theatre to say, that they have 
by their unequalled execution succeeded in 
exciting and refining the public taste for 

Mons. Fetis, editor of the Revue Musi, 
cale, in one of the letters he addressed to his 
son during his residence in London, where 
he came some time ago for the purpose of 
ascertaining the state of music here, made 
some sensible remarks upon the mischief 
occasioned to the art by musical soirees : 

*' The London season is a sort of fair, or 
casual assemblage of society; in fact, it 
does not last more than three months and a 
half. It is during this short period that 
every thing must be done. The higher 
classes of society, who live for more than 
two-thirds of the year on their estates or on 
the continent, come for the remaining time 


Mwsiejmmi mdaiSomk^ 


to farnish feed for the industry of artists and 
speculators of all sorts. Then all kinds of 
professors must gain in a few days where- 
vrithal to defray their whole expenses in that 
eountryy in which it is most expensive to 
live. Then concerts multiply in a manner 
most incredible. Every one thinks he has 
a right to have a benefit.. Those whose 
talent is not sufficiently attractive speculate 
on the talent of others and pay for it. 

Daring the last two months nearly eighty 
concerts of dtfierent kinds have been given ; 
sometimes four in one day. Now the great, 
er piirt of the singers at the Italian Opera 
are engaged to sing at these concerts, at 
from 15 to 20 guineas each* If to these be 
added the musical soirees which are given 
in private houses, some idea may be formed 
of the vortex of music, aqd chieiy bad 
music, in which one lives during some 
months. These concerts and soirees, which 
are iii some sort the chief objects of the 
singers who visit London* are destructive to 
the prc^rietor of the King's Theatre, and 
more especially to good music. As the 
soir^s are always very late, it is impossible 
to rise early, and the theatrical rehearsals 
cannot, therefore, begin before noon. At 
two o'clock the conceits begin, they have 
hardly reached the finale of the first act, 
when the foshionable prima donna^ the tenor, 
or the bass, who cannot lose the 20 guineas 
at which they are .engaged, start for the con- 
cert, in spite of the entreaties of the con- 
ductor. In vain does he employ all his elo- 
qoence to show that the piece is not known, 
and that the representation will be imperfect 
the next evening. * Sir, 1 know my part.' 
^ Very good, but Mademoiselle ■■■ does 
not know her's !' * Let her learn it.' * The 
band has no acquaintance with the pieces.' 
* They must study.' ^But how can they if 
you go V * That is not my affiiir ; I repeat, 
I know my part, it is all you can exact 
(torn me*' " 

This is a complete picture of the musieal 
transactions going forward in this great me- 
tropolis^ with this only difierence, that every 
season it beeomes worse and worse. The 
trash which the public are made to endure 
in the way of vocal music at these concerts, 
aoagSy duets or trios;efiective enough on the 
stage probably, but torn from the scene and 
the dramatis personsB becoming perfectly in. 
efltsctiye, quite unfit for a concert-room, 
which demands a rather subdued style of 
singing ; these things disgust the educated 
amateur, and annoy every musical mind. 
While the sterling music of their own coun- 
try, the works of Bishop, Webhe^ Callcoi^ 
Beakf 8te9$fU, Hofdey, Ellht^ Linleifj and 
a host of talented writers now living, are 

entirely and oarefolly secluded firom their 
fair share of the public favour by the very 
parties who ought to be the first to bring 
them forward. However, this department is 
now to be taken out of their hands ; it has 
become a determination among the ladies 
of haMi.ton to encourage and patronize Ekng- 
lish Musie^ sung in the best style and by 
the first artists in the metropolis ; and it will 
soon be seen how much better every society 
will be pleased with music they can imden 
standj than with an enormous expense in- 
curred for the Italian sinffers, who walk in 
on opera nights at the eleventh hour, half 
exhausted, to sing over and over again the 
worn-out pieces of such feeble writers as 
DonixelH^ Mercadanie^ dto^ A note of 
Rossini^ who is really a man of genius, we 
seldom or never hear. Well may he say 
with an experienced writer, who was ex* 
tremely well acquainted with the snbject 
upon which he was touching :--* 

*^ There ii no pther such vtat tomb as London 
for iwaUowing up illuitrions names. It ia an all* 
derooring ocean. The celebrity of a man in Lon. 
don vparUes and vantabea like a firework. There 
are great thxonghtgB round him, great invitations, 
great eulogiuma, great exaggerations for a few days, 
and afterwards perpetual slfence.*' 

Pbiiaarmoric SocifiTY.-^Another sefldofi 
of these concerts Itas closed, and what have 
the directors done ? This question so often 
asked, must be answered ; they have done 
nothing to attach the musical public to 
them. It has been justly said, that none but 
oor best friends will venture to give us ad^ 
vice ; we entertain the best feelings towards 
the society, and therefore we speak frankly 
and openly for their benefit. A strong 
opposition is erecting its head in the 
Socieia ^rmonica ; then there is the Ckuino 
Sodeiy in Leicester Square, and the Concerts 
d^Hivtr^ where Beethoven's symphonies are 
played by the same band (with few ezoep. 
tions) as at the Philharmonic. The cotmt- 
less number of musicians turned loose from 
the Royal Academy will shortly furnish 
another formidable band if they are not em« 
ployed ihert ; and the demand for good w- 
cai muiic cannot much longer be waived. 
Where are the symphonies of Berlioz and 
Kailiwoda, of Mehul and Kehert- Let 
them at any rate be tried ; if report has 
spoken of them too highly, let their adverse 
iata be sealed. We understand new direc- 
tors have been appointed, and among them 
some active person, we trust, who will see 
with his own eyes and hear with his own 
ears, and have manliness enough to east 
off the old lady-ishness that has rested like 
an incubus upon what ought to be, and 
might be, the finest mtisical society in Eu« 


Mmsie Abroad 0nd a Horn*. 


rope I for their means are great* they can 
afford to be liberal, but they continue (under 
the baneful influence to which we have ad- 
verted) to miamanage and misappropriate ; 
however, reform must come, and if it does 
not cbme getUlp, perhaps the pressure from 
without may ipouce a healthier state of 
things. The subscribers and the members 
will both benefit by such ckinge. 

Covent Garden. — The fair lessee has 
opened this theatre nearly one month earlier 
than usual, with a company exhibiting a 
long array of talent in comedy, tragedy, and 
burletta. Madartne deserves great praise for 
having catered so well for the public taste. 
Her opening piece was Shakspeare's Merry 
Wives of Windsor. Madame and Mrs. 
Nisbett were the merry wives, and Miss 
Rainforth was "sweet Ann Page," and 
beautifully she warbled forth the songs 
aUotted her. <* I knew a bank," was ex- 
quisitely given by Madame and Miss Rain- 
forth, and has on every evening of perform- 
ance called forth a well-merited encore. 
The only novelty hitherto produced has 
been Sheridan Knowles's play of the Bride 
of Mesiiwh in which Mr. Moore, as the de- 
lineator of John di Procida, fully realized all 
the expectations that had been formed from 
the talents he displayed last season in Ham- 
lei and in Leigh Hunt's *< Legend of FV 
r«fic£." Ho combines good declamatiod 
with graceful action. Mr. Anderson played 
Fernando most effectively, and Miss Tree 
exhibited the utmost tenderness, but she has 
scarcely sufficient physical power to embody 
the au thorns conception of Isoline ; if she 
would also amend the fault of dropping her 
voice too low and being somewhat too petu- 
lant iu her matwer, she would unquestiona- 
bly be the most perfect actress on the English 
stage* No small portion of the success of 
this play must be assigned to the splendour 
of the scenery, and the taste displayed in the 
dresses and general getting up of the piece. 
A new musical drama, entitled the Greek 
Boy^ will be the next novelty produced. 

Haymarkel Theatre, — The lessee of this 
theatre, ever mindful of the public taste, has 
made an invaluable addition to his company 
in Mr. James Wallack, a perfprmer of known 
talent, but who has hitherto never been 
sufficiently appreciated in this country. 
Mrs. Stirling, a valuable acquisition to this 
company, has now an opportunity of ex- 
hibiting her talents before the public. Mr. 
David Roes, a son of tlie facetious Tom 
Rees, the actor and mimic, is gaining on the 
town, while bursts of laughter bear testimony 
to his success. The , new play of Master 
Clarke^ by Searle, has been received with 
the most unequivocal marks of success. 

Like the Bride ef Messina^ it will require 
considerable curtailment. The conclusion 
is far more satis&ctory than Mr. Sheridan 
Enowles's play at Covent Garden, but the 
plot is far less interesting, for it contains no 
soul-stirring scenes ; and had the respective 
parts been allotted to other hands than Mr. 
Macready and Miss Helen Faucit, Master 
Clarke would probably have shared the fate 
that has usually attended Mr. Serle's pro- 
ductions. As it is, tliis play (with judicious 
pruning) will become an established fa- 

Drury Lane.— -That an operatic and ballet 
company could not have been formed at 
Drury Lane is not to be believed^ while 
Phillips, Templeton, Wilson, Manvers, Allen, 
Leffler, Franks, Miss Shirrefl^ Miss Romer, 
Mrs. Waylett, Mrs. Croft, and a host of 
singers remain disengaged ; nor will it be 
believed there was any real intentk>n of 
forming such a company when Mr. H. 
Phillips was offered the paltry sum of 10/. 
per week for three nights. Mr. Elliason will 
be more in his element as leader of a con- 
cert band, and the blame will rest entirely 
on the managing committee of the Drury 
Lane proprietors. What will Mr* G» 
Robins, who complained so loudly and 
justly of Bunn's mismanagement, say nowl 
What Bunn says of Covent Garden may 
with more justice be applied to Drury Lane; 
** The theatre stands where it did, but the 
days of its glory are altogether passed away*" 
The present state of the two national thea- 
tres is this, Drury owes about 280,00(M.t 
Covent Garden, 256,496/. To pay five per 
cent, on the debts, Drury should let for 
11,600/., and Covent Garden for 12,800/. 
per annum 1 The tlieatrc opens on the 5th 
inst. with promenade concerts under the 
direction of Mr. Uliason and the celebrated 
P. Musard, of Paris ; the known talents of 
the latter will ensure the performance of 
good music and an orchestra complete in 
every department. 

English Opera J^oiue.— The promenade 
concerts, with all the old favourites, have 
recommenced their harmonious career at 
this theatre. The band has received a 
valuable addition in Monsieur Tolbecque their 
leader, while the committee have evinced no 
less judgment in the selection of the follow, 
ing novelties for their opening : 

A Quadrille, entitled Moments de Folie^ 
composed expressly by Mr. Balfe for these 

A new Waltz, by Strauss, entitled Wiener 
Gemiithy, and a new Quadrille, Les Mar- 
tyrs (1st set), by Musard. 

Olympic. — The doors of this delightful 
little theatre will be re<K>pened in a few days 



under the able management of Mr. Butler, 
whose merited exertions last season secured 
him a ftiir share of public &v our. He has 
engaged as much talent, lihder existing cir. 
cumstatiGies, as could well be secured. 

The new theatre (Prineeg$*i) in Oxford 
Street, opens with promenade concerts, on 
30th Sep!tevnber, under the guafdmnship of 
Mr. WiHey, the late leader at the English 
Opera House. This speculation will no 
doabt be waffnly supported by the local in* 
habitsfnts, as well as by the good citizens of 
London, with whom he has long been an 
especial favourite. 

The Strand is open, and that is all that 
can be said. 

The rebuilding «f t^ AdelpM Theat/e is 
nearly completed. Mr. Tates has been 
travelling in the provinces seeking theatrical 
talent ; — he could certainly find more disen 
gaged at home, 

Queen*B Theatre. — This little theatre has 
been entirely remodelled and beautified — 
certainly not before it was needed. The 
taste and skill of Mr. J. C. James, the 
lessee, has been the means of raising this 
theatre considerably in public estimation. 

in the provinces theatricals have declined 
to a fesrful extent. 

The Bath Theatre has ceased to pay for 

The proprietor of the Liverpool Theatre 
resigns this season ; and the York circuit, 
cotifined to Hull, Leeds, and York^ barely 
pays its expenses. 

The Norwich manager is forced to close 
;iome months in each year. Mr. H. Bennett 
manages to make Shr^Wfebliry, Coventry 
and Woneester pay. Munro does the same 
at Birmingham, but lost money at Leicester. 
Beverley extracts with diflicuUy a living 
from Sunderland and Shields; while Bar- 
uett does wretchedly in all his towns save 
Oxford. Dover, Rochester, and other towns 
in Kent, do not pay their expenses. Shal- 
ders scrambles on at Southampton, Ports- 
mouth, dsc., but scarcely lives. Teman, on 
the contrary, has done tolerably at New- 

The Birmingham festival promises to be 
one of the most fiourishtng that has been 
given for many years. *The most brflliant 
feature in the festival was Mexidelssohn's 
" Lobgesang," or «* Hymn of Praise,** con- 
sisting of an introductory symphony in three 
movements, followed by a full chorus. It 
was really beautiful to witness the great 
Maestro conducting the band, over which he 
held the most pei^t discipline and com* 
mand ; and this was more with the spell 
of an enchanter, than with any energy of 

▼0L« xxru 16 

gesture or severity of tone. The playing 
was magnificent, and the delights and plau- 
dits of the audience enthusiastic in the ex- 
treme. Not the least plecusing sight was to 
see that great composer ascend the orches- 
tra and shake hatids with the principal per* 
foihfners, thanking them at the same time for 
their valoable support. Mendelssohn's cotl- 
ccrto in G minor, with its delicious slow 
movement obligato for vfoloncello and tenors, 
was also exquisitely pl^^d. 

Ipswich. — Miss M. Brooks, of this towil, 
who has taken lessons in singing fVom first- 
rate London professors, gave two concerts 
recently at the new Assembly Rooms, both 
of which were extremely well attended. 
Her voice is a pure soprano, of considerable 
compass and correct irtt6nation. She sang 
a variety of Italian and English sonss, ana 
was loudly encored in Handel's •' Let me 
wander;" also in poor Malibran's plaintive 
air, "There is no home like my own.'* 
Miss Brooks alscTtook a part in some con- 
certed pieces, and sang several duets with 
Mrs. A. Toulmin. 

Hull Festival.-*— A musical meeting oti 
a grand scale will take place at Hull, under 
the direction of Sir (reorge Smart, on the 
6th instant, and will be continued for four 
days. The following artists are engaged : 
— Mesdames Dorns Gras and Alberta2zi ; 
Miss Birch, Miss Hawes, Ben net, Pearsall, 
Machin, Phillips, and Colelti. Leader, Mr.' 
P. Cramer. As the selection will be made 
by Sir George Smart* we may confidently 
look forward for a rich treat. Sir George is 
almost the only director who is not preju- 
diced against English compositions. 

Miss Vining, daughter of Frederick 
Vining, of Drury Lane Theatre, ha6 been 
recently playing ••Pauline Deschap^lles,** ' 
with Charles Kean, in the Xody of Luons'^ 
and has performed the characters of Lady 
Anne^ Jane Shore^ Juliety &c. at Brighton. 
Report speaks highly of her performances, 
as giving great promise of future excellence. 
She has just appeared as Julia, in Sheridan 
Knowles's play, the Hunchback^ and elicited 
well deserved plaudits for her beautiful per- 
sonation of the character, and will doubtless 
pave the way for a popularity on the Lon- 
don boards. 

One of the sweetest and most attractive 
singers of the present day, Miss Louisa Vin- 
oiog, who, though scarcely four years of 
age, is enabled to overcome all the most 
difficult modulations and ctMmatic passage* 
of Italian music, with the most apparent 
ease. She keeps time with her tiny foot ho 
perfoctly, as to exdte the wonder of her 
admiring audiences. Her Italian, English, 


Muiic Abrood mtd a$ Home* 


Scotch and Irish malcMiies she produces in 
such mellifluous tones, as to call forth the 
most enthusiastic plaudits* 

One of the best works for the study of 
harmony, which has appeared in this coun- 
try for many years, is C. Rudolphus's trans- 
lation of Antoine Beicha's Treaiin on Prac" 
tical Harmony and Composition, Reicha is 
well known to the musician by his celebrated 
CouTS de Composition musicale. 

Life of Beeihavent translated from the 
German of Sckmdler, with Notes 1^ Ignace 
Moseheles. — This celebrated musician was 
a roan of extraordinary sagacity; bold, 
fearless, impetuous, and possessed of the 
greatest number of original ideas in his art 
of any writer who ever lived. Cominff after 
two such great composers as Haydn and 
Mozart, who had enjoyed so long^nd so 
properly the public favour, Beethoven, as a 
reflecting writer, probably thought he had 
better not attempt competin;^ with them upon 
their own ground \ but strike out a path for 
himself. Of close study he knew nothing, 
but seems to have acquired all his powers of 
composition by continual practice. His 
symphonies, which are his greatest works, 
are proofs of the amazing results of this 
habit. The only fault that can be alleged 
against them is, that they are too long. This 
is even the case with the Pastoral Sym- 
phony. He studied greatly in the open air. 
It was on a hot summer's day that Beetho- 
ven sat upon a stile in the environs of Vi- 
enna, and caught from nature those imi- 
tative sounds in the Pastoral Symphony. 
How admirably do the violins represent the 
soft fluttering stir of the insects— -the hum in 
the noontide warmth of a summer's day ! 

His vocal works were not numerous ; but 
Melaida, '' TremaH^'' and Fidelio, suffice 
to show what he could have done in this de- 
partnoent. M. Schindler's book will be 
very acceptable to the amateur ; he has col- 
lected together all the information that inti- 
mate friendship with the great composer 
enabled him to preserve relative to his mode 
of life and habits of composition. In every 
way Beethoven was one of the most original 
men of his time. As a symphonist Men- 
delssohn seems to follow the nearest in his 
track. Let us hope he will set about a re- 
form in this class of music, and curtail the 
movements. We have hardly yet recover- 
ed the sitting out of Beethoven's Choral 
Symphony at the Philharmonic; an hour 
qnd twetiiy minuies. This sapient experi- 
ment of the directors proved a positive in- 
fliction, and waj8 the cause of many sub- 
scribers leaving. At Vienna, the birth, 
place of the composer, they never give any 
of his works entire, but a movement or two. 

This is the sure way to iociease the wish for 
more. Spohr has tried this change of style 
in his last symphony ; the idea is good. 
Bach, Handel, Weber, and the m^em 
Italian school, were points of variety capable 
of still more extension than he has given 

<« God save the King.^— It has been for 
some time disputed an^ong musicians to 
what composer we are indebted for the Na- 
tional Anthem '^ God save ihs King.^^ Mr. 
Richard t jlark has come into possession of 
the original manuscript book of Dr. Built 
who leA this country in disgust in the year 
1613, as Queen Elizabeth did not encourage 
English composers. This air appears, to- 
gether with others of Dr. Bull's composition, 
in his own handwriting, thereby settling his 
claim as the author of this flne melody. 
The book was formerly in possession of 
Dr. Kitchener. 

1698. — ^The invention of Da Capo, (or the 
return to the first strain of a song after a 
second part, generally in a minor key,) is 
ascribed to Scarlatti the elder, who first used 
it in his opera La Theodorat though not in 
all the songs* Afterwards it became gene- 
ral. Handel used it most unfairly and un- 
sparingly. It is a musical anomaly that 
ought to be entirejy banished. The only 
thing we can compare it to, is the exhibition 
of Signer Gagliardi's wax figures, which 
present us with a little scene of a lady faint- 
ing away, being revived by her attendants, 
aud then l^eginnins again, and fainting 
away once more. John Christopher Bach 
was the first composer who discarded the 
Da Capo about 1798. 

The origin of the word Symphomia^ or 
Sumphony^ has often been disputed among 
musicians. The following is the opinion of 
a good judge : — ^The Padre Martini. " Af^er 
lamenting the insufficiency of his materiab, 
and the paucity of early records, the Padre 
turns to the music of the Babylonian, and he 
fixes upon the following passage in Daniel, 
as calling for an explanation of two instru- 
ments nevor before mentioned ; ' That at 
what time ye hear the sound of the cornet, 
flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and 
all kinds of music, ye fall down and wor- 
ship,' &c. These twt> are the dulcimer and 
sackbut. The Latin name (obviously how- 
ever derived from the Greek) for the former, 
is sympkonia, which word has been inter- 
preted in various ways. It would be super- 
fluous to enumerate the diflerent descrip- 
tiona given of it as an instrument. The Pa* 
dre discard^ th^ opinion entirely, and is in** 
dined to understand syn^honia as signifying 
the united music of the instruments previous- 
ly enumerated. In support of this opinion 


Muiie Jlbroad and at ifomt. 

he quotes a veree from the parable of the 
Prodigid Son^ where the same words are 
used to denote mu^ic, ' Ei cum venirei ei 
appropinquaret domit audiffis symphoniam 
d chM^m,^ This, in the Syriac version, is 
translated, *• Audivit voeum concentus mul' 
iarum f and in the Arabic, * Et audisaet 
voces consanaa y' and this concordance, to- 
gether with the many different conjectures 
as to the form of the $ymphania^ ns an in- 
strument, the Padre thinks a sufficient rea- 
son for concluding that it signified a canceri 
of instrumenis or voicet, 

^ With regard to the sackbutt (sambuca) 
the sanie variety of opinion prevails; but 
the Padre, adherin«^ to that of St. Jerome, 
and some others of authority, describes it as 
a wind instrument fornjed of the root of a 
tree, and played upon by stops like a flute. 
The possessran of these two instruments, to. 
gether with the reference of several passa- 
ges in the sacred writings to the subject, are 
sufficient proofs of the cultivation of music 
amongst the Babylonians; and the Pbdre 
naturally supposes that as this people were 
every where celebrated for luxury and splen- 
dour, their music partook of the same cha- 
racter; amongst other nations also it was 
not neglected, and new instruments were in- 
vented. The Phmnidana used one, which 
was called after their country (Fh€Bnices,)a9 
also one called NaubHum, which was plaved 
on at the feasts of Bacchus, and a kind of 
flute used at funerals, which was about a 
palm's length, producing a wailing mournful 
sound, and was called in their own language 
Gingre. The Assyrians were the inventors 
of the 'Driangulum or Trigonumf an instru- 

ment of a triangular shape. According also 
to Juvenal, players on stringed and wind in* 
struments were to be met with in Syria. 
The Assyrians are likewise said by some 
ancient writers to have invented the Pamdura 
or Syrinx. 

*' The invention of the drum and bells is 
claimed by the Chinese." (See WestonU 
Adalta ofBeyzom) 

Modem Sympkonies.^-^ir John Haw- 
kins, in his work on music, makes the follow* 
ing observations upon this class of compo- 
sition : — 

" The general uproar of a modem sym* 
phony or overture, neither engages atten* 
tion, nor interrupts conversation ; and many 
persons, in the total absence of thought, flaU 
ter themselves that they are merry. To as- 
sist this propensity, and as much as possible 
to banish reflection, the oomposers of music 
seem now to act against a fundamental pre- 
cept of their art, which teaches that variety 
and novelty are ever to be studied, by re- 
probating, as they uniformly do, the use of 
all the keys with the minor 8d, upon a pre- 
tence that they tend to excite melancholy." 

Beethoven has taken away the reproach 
respecting the use of the minor key, but still 
the point concerning the iotal absence of 
<Aoii^A^, alluded to by the above musical his- 
torian, is to be guarded against by all sym- 
phony writers. No composition of this kind 
should consist of a mere bundle of move- 
ments, there should be a sort of story like the 
Pastoral Symphony. The ToumamesU^ for 
instancOf would be a good subject; some- 
thing to fix and keep people's atteptioo alive 
must now be studied. 





Tbb present number of the Geririan Q,uar- 
terly Review, •* Deutsche Vierteljahrschrlft," 
maintains the reputation this periodical has 
already so justly acquired. The most inte- 
itesting articlest are Political Economy, pre- 
sentipastf and future ; on the Celebration of 
the Discovery of Printing, and on Modern 

Moritz Retzscb has been for some time 
engaged on his Outlines to Shakspeare's 
* Tempest' Several of the plates are al* 
veady finished, and promise to vie with 
those of bis celebrated etchings to * Schiller's 
Song of the Bell,' and ' Goethe's Faust' 
The introduction and explanatory remarks 
are from the pen of Professor Ulrici of 
Halle, whose recent work on Shakspeare's 
Dramatic Art (Ueber Shakspeare's Drama- 
tische Kunst) has t>een favourably received 
by the poblic. The • Tempest' will appear 
in the course of next montn. 

The schools of Germany attract the atten- 
tioa of all nations interested in the subject 
of education. Mr. Dallas Bache has just 
published a volume containing an account 
of his visit to Europe, for the purpose of in- 
vestigating the merits of the different 
schools, previous to the establishment of 
Gevard's College at fhiladelphiaf and Rec- 
tor Bugge, of the Drontheim Gymnasium, 
has just published three octavo volumes, 
under the' title ' Det offentlige Skolevaesens 
Forfatning, i adskillige tydske Stater tilli- 
gemed Ideer til en Reorganisation af det 
offentlige Skolevaesen i Kongeriget norge.' 
rrhe Constitution of the Public Schools in 
different German States, with Ideas for a 
Reorganization of the Public Schools in the 
Kingdom of Norway). These books, al- 
though valuable, must only be considered in 
the Tight of statistical contributions, and 
we rejoice to find that several Englishmen 
have recently visited the German schools, 
to make themselves acquainted with the spi- 
rit and working of the system. 

The translation of Byron's works by Jo- 
seph Emanuel Hilscher,a common soldier 
in the Austrian army, is mentioned in the 
German journals in terms of great commen- 
dation. The unfortunate author, who pub- 
lished his original poems, full of melancho- 
Iv and bitter experience, died a victim to 
the struggle between his consciousness of 
superior mental powers and his obscure sit- 
uation in life. 

The popularity of Schiller is greater in 
his native country than ever. Several jour- 

nalists who formerly held up Goethe as the 

fla*»s of fashion and the mould of form, 
ave deserted their former Coryphseus in fa« 
vour of his great cotenporary. These two 
writers are so di£forent that it is hardly fair 
to compare them, and we prefer to enjo^ 
each, without an undue and unjust cooipari* 
son with the other. Wolfgang Menzel, who 
enjoys such great popularity in England, 
but who in reality is a most prejudicea writ- 
er, has always lieen one of the most violent 
antagonists of Goethe. Gustav Schwab, 
the poet has just published a new Life of 

Heinrich Steffens and Moritz Arndt have 
just published autobiographies. That of 
Arndt, who (after many vears of constant 
. opposition to the tremenaous power of Na- 
poleon, for which he was obliged to wander 
an exile) was, in consequence of the reac- 
tion after 1815, deprived of his professorship, 
is remarkably interesting. After a long 
lapse of years he has been restored to his 
position ; and Uie patriotic veteran has just 
been elected rector of the CJniversity of 
Bonn, to the great satisfaction t)oth of pro- 
fessors and students. 

The press teems with books relating to 
Frederic the Great, as a jubilee offering to 
his memory, he having died in 1740. There 
can be no doubt that Lord Brougbamt in bis 
Statesmen of the Time of George the Third, 
has not done justice to the merits of this 
distinguished monarch. Hi^ lordship has 
visited rather too severely his sins against 
political ascendency, in which he was not 
more behindhand than Europe in general. 
Some alleged instances of Frederic's ingra- 
titude have been publicly contradicted by 
Professor Preuss, his somewhat too eulogis- 
tic biographer. One of the most interesting 
tributes to his /nemo'ry, is the * History of 
Frederic the Great,' written by Kugler, with 
numerous illustrations by Aaolph Menzel, 
which are remarkably beautiful. The work 
is published by Weber, of Leipsic. 

Professor M&dler, the author of the great 
map of the moon, has received the appoint- 
ment of Director of the Observatory at the 
University of Dorpat. 

HsiDBLBEBG. — The University of this town 
consists of 40 professors and 21 private tu- 
tors. During the last half year 622 students 
matriculated ; of these 195 were Germans, 
and 427 from other countries, and were tliu9 
divided — ^22 theology, 364 law, 148 medicine, 
59 mineralogy, and 29 philology and philoso- 

KdwosBBBO.— Captain Bannasch has been 


wVPI^PPv^^^Mlf^ •'■^^^fWJI '*" ▼"^fl'* 

giving « Aerjai pf locture* oo naTigattoH^ 
wbJch wer^ well attended. 

Ra<lBD Saliki tbe Drinc^ of Java^ i«;itudy- 
ing painting .at bresden, and eviocee 
considerable akilJ and talent in tbe 


The King of Prussia iias ordered tbat the 
" Life and Writings of Frederic the Second 
of Prussia," which the late minister, Von 
AUensteiOt had been instructed to prepare 
for publication, should be given to Dr* 
Preuss, who will be assisted by Dr.Scbulze. 
1 be historical portion of the work will ap- 
pear in seven volumes (Quarto. 

Tbe Botanical Society at* Regenaburg, 
on the celebratioa of their Jubilee, tbe Socie- 
ty having existed 50 years, elected the cele- 
brated MartiUa as president of their body ; 
the Crown Prince of Bohemia was also ap- 
pointed patron to the society. They intend 
shortly to publish their *«Repertoriuh:i Bota- 
nicum," of tbe last 50 years. j 

The Historisch Theologisch Gesellschaft 
at Leipzig have been instructed by a gentle- 
man of property to announce a prize of 15/. 
to the best and most satisfactory work, prov- 
ing tbe truth or falsehood of the ** Chronicon 
Corbejense." A)I works must be sent to Dr. 
Illgen before 30th June, 1841. 


A work, entitled ** Paris and its Environs,*' 
is now i0 course of publication in that city. 
It will consist of 300 numbers. The views 
are all taken by the Da£uerreotype» and are 
reaUy, beautiful. Equal care is taken in the 
historical and descriptive portion of the 

Several ODpublished letters of J. J. Rous- 
seau have been found in an old castle in 
Normandy. They are priocipally on the 
subject of music, and will shortly be present- 
ed to the world through the medium of the 


Count J. Coghem has been corn'missioned 
by King Leopold to offer 2000 francs, 80/. for 
the best work on the History of Belgium, 
during the reign of the House of Austria, 
from the marriage of Maximilian I. with 
Maria of Burgundv, to the abdication of 
Charles V. The work must be written either 
in French or Flemish, and sent in before the 
end of July, 1841. 


The dukedom of Lombardy contains 1,- 
235,480 inhabitants, and 2633 schools, in 
which 124,328 bojs are inatructed, and 1929 
schools, in which 79,395 girls receive \he ru- 
diments of education. 

The University of Padua contains 1400 
students, and that of Pa via 1500. 

It affords us ^reat pleasure to observe that 
Ital^ is attemptmg something like a centrali- 
^tion of all tt^ literary works at a single 
bookseller's, Vleu^seux, of Florence. This, 
tbe only ceiatralizatipn of which that unhap 

py oonntrv ^ Buacepltble^ wfj lead to«iigbty 
results. It is tbe upque^tionable policy of 
England to see Italy one independent king- 
dom, freed equally froo^ its own petty prin- 
ces and German absolutism. In the month- 
ly series of works pttblished, or in the course 
of publication, which Vieusseux puts forth, 
many of which are included in the above 
sketches, tbe following are the most re- 
markable : — Universal GeograpbV, by Mar- 
moccbi, embracing, 1st, the reUtions of the 
Earth to the Universe, or Cosmology. 2d. 
Natural History of the Earth, or Physical 
Geography. 3d. The divisions ot the Hu- 
man Race Into States and Nations. 

The next remarkable production is by 
Eugenic Albert, containing. the narrations of 
the Venetian Ambassadors to their Senate, 
extending from 1296 to 1796 ; it is aided by 
an Italian literary aesociation, and will be of 
immense extent. Ranke has availed him- 
self ]ar|^ely of this laborious undertaking. 

A Dictionary of Mathematics, pure and 
mixed, is making its appearance from the 
same quarter. Surely this must shame our 
countrymen. We have no work on this ex- 
tensive subject, so connected with our Naval 
Empire, save the slight sketch by Barker, 
and the old Dictionary of Hutton, which is 
not adapted to the calculi. The French 
have Montucla, continued by La Lande, a 
very superior production, and extended to 
modern analvsis ; but the English booksel- 
lers, who hoia the copyright of Hutton, make 
no effort to improve the work, nor to extend 
it, nor to brin^ forth a production suited to 
the high requisitions of analysis, and to the 
vast modern improvements in physical or 
mixed mathematics. Why do not Airy, Pea- 
cock or Whewell attempt something that 
really would be a national benefit? All the 
foreign and Italian literary journals may be 
obtained at Vieusseux's. The restriction of 
the discussion of political topics In Italy 
seems to have necessarily driven the pubUc 
mind into the only channel left open to its 


PooB William Tell.— The poetical history 
of the Swiss patriot has dwindled away un- 
der the merciless hands of tbe German ciliic6. 
His very existence has been denied, and it 
has been proved by extracts from docu- 
ments, that no such landvo^ as Gessler ex- 
isted, and that thenar had its rise from very 
different causes from those assigned in the 
popular tradition. The philosophical faculty 
of Heidelberg proposed a prize for the best 
work on the Swiss confederation, and for an 
investigation into the history of William 
Tell. Dr. Hausser was the successful com- 
petitor. He is of opinion that Tell really 
existed; tbat be performed actions which 
attracted attention in his own little circle, 
but that he has no claims to poetical impor- 
tance, nor 10 be considered as the deliverer 
of Switzerland. The admirers of Tell, how- 
ever, have not quitted the field ; Mr. Hiiley 
pronvses us a work, entitled '* Guillaun- 





Tell, Bzamen oiitique de son Hlstoire et des 
esprits qui en contestent Authenticity'* 


Though very far behind that of the rest of 
Europe in fertility and activitjt the litera- 
ture of the Spanish peninsula, at least of 
Spain itself, is not altogether in a state of 
actual torpidity. On tl^ contrary, periodi- 
cal literature is on the increase, and in a 
comparatively flourishing condition. Last 
year there were no fewer than sixteen jour- 
nals, literary and scientific, in existence; 
and to them may now be added ** La Revis- 
ta Qaditana (The Cadiz Review), a monthly 
publication; **La Espana Maritima,'' cmd 
" La Mariposa (The Butterfly), which last 
appearN every week. 

Drama and poetry are the branches most 
cultivated ; and among those who have of 
late distinguished themselves in the former, 
is Breton de los Herreros, who has been 
called by some the Scribe uf Spain, on ac- 
count of his fertility and talent. 

** El Pelays/' an epic poem, in two vo- 
lumes, by Uuiz de la Vega, is chiefly re- 
markable for the correctness of its language 
and versification, and has accordingly been 
rather coldly received. Novel writing is 
gaining ground, though very slowly ; and 
though there has ^et been scarcely an at- 
' tempt at any delmeation of manners and 
society, much less at that development of in- 
dividual character, feelings, and opinions, 
which elevates that species above mere nar- 
rative of adventure. Among the recent pro- 
ductions of any note, in the shape of novels, 
are Jos^ Augustin Ochoa's ** El Huerfano de 
Almoguer," and Miguel Santos Alvarez's 
'* La Proteccion de un Sastre ;" after which, 
the most remarkable is one entitled '* Moros 
y Christianos," by a voung writer who had 
previously distinguished himself, by a vo- 
lume of poems, under the assumed title of 
El Solitorio. The second volume of Marti- 
nez de la Rosa's historical romance, '* Isabel 
de Soils," has appeared ; as also another vo- 
lume of the same author's philosophical 
and political work; ^* El Espiritu del Siglo." 

History may be said to be almost ^vnolly 
neglected, the chief exception being a volume 
of memoirs, illustrating the reign of Charles 
IIL and the administrations of Aranda and 
Floridablanca. One or two historical works, 
however, have been translated into the lan< 
guafi'e ; viz. Coxe's Memoirs of the Kings 
of the House of Bourbon, and Prescotrs 
.Histor}' of Ferdinand and Isabella. A trans- 
lation of Sir H. Parneirs work on Finance, 
has also been made by Victoriano de Euci- 
na y Piedra. Besides these, there have been 
several other recent translations from the 
popular literature of France and England, 
including one of Lamartine's poems, by the 
Marquis of Casa Jav<i. Much also has been 
done in bringing out new editions of standard 
and classic Spanish authors, both poets and 

Two literary institntions have been estab- 
lished, " El Liceo," and ''El Ateneo Cienti- 

fico ;" or rather the latter has been re-es- 
tablished and re-organized, after having 
been broken up for several years. It pos^ 
sesses a library, cabinet of medals, a mine- 
ralogical collection, &c ; and lectures are 
delivered weekly on subjects of science and 
economy ; by which means it has contribut- 
ed verj mucn to disseminate a taste for in- 
fo^fmation, and to eradicate prejudices and 
bi|fotry. The Liceo is conducted with equal 
spirit^ but confines itself more to literature 
and the fine arts. 

Don Francisco do la Cueva, the best Span- 
ish historian of the present day, is busily 
engaged on a continuation of the *' History 
of Spain," written by the Jesuit Majden, in 
29 volumes. This work will be considera- 
bly enlarged and improved, and brought 
down to the death of Ferdinand VIL 


The number of journals published in Swe- 
den at the beginning of 1839, was 87, and of 
periodicals 14. Thirteenof the former, and 
seven of the latter, are published at Stock- 
holm. Seven are devoted to politics, four 
being ooposition and three ministerial joui> 
nals. The *' Meiner," principally supported 
by Atterbom, and the **Palmblad," contained 
an interesting article upon Swedenborg*s 
GBsthetical views, and an attempt to explain 
the nature of his visionary theology. Count 
Adelssparre, assisted by Tegner, Franzen, 
Atterbom, and several other esteemed writ- 
ers, is the founder of a periodical on con- 
servative principles, called *' L&sning blun- 
dade Amner," (Readings on Miscellaneous 
Subjects) ; it contains some beautiful poems, 
but has hardlv equalled the expectations 
formed from the known talents of the con- 
tributors. In addition to these, 7 journals 
are published at Gottenburg, 5 at Upsal, and 
4 at Lund. J. Thomens nas published a 
work which throws considerable light on 
the ecclesiastical history of Sweden, under 
the title of ** Skandinaviens Kyrkshftfder ec- 
clesiastical," " Chronicles of Scandinavia." 

The municipality of Reichstae, the town 
in which Linneus was born, has nought the 
estate on which the great naturalist first 
drew breath, and has decided on laying it 
out as a botanical garden. M. Heurlin has 
also engaged to erect a simple moniunent 
on the spot. 


The Danish Society for the right use of the 
freedom of the Press (*• Selskabet for Tryk- 
kefrihe dens rette Brug^') was founded in 
March 1885, for the purpose of publishing 
prize works interesting or instructive to the 
people. In three vears the number of sub- 
scribers amounted to more than 5000. The 
society had published eighteen works, be- 
sides a weekly popular paper at a low price. 
Christian Molbecb, the author of theDani^ 
Dictionary, has written a Danish History 
for the Society, in three volumes, under the 
title **FortsBllinger off Skildringer af den 
Danske Historie (Tales and Descriptions 


Mi$e€Umuau8 LUermnf JfoHees. 


from Danish History)*^ which effects much 
more than its modest title promises. 


Two new Russian Journals have appear- 
ed; the one entitled '* Leutchthurm der 
gegenwftrtigen Aufkl&run^ und Cultur,** is 
supported by contributions from some 
of the first literary men in Russia. The 
other is the *« Pantheon ftir Russische und 
Europftische Dramatik." 

Smirdius, the publisher, has just issued 
the second volume of his Lives of the 100 
Russian Historians. The volume contains 
the biographies of Schichkow, Soyeskin, 
Krttlow, Panajew, Kamensky, Massalsky, 
Radeschdin, Weltmanni and Bulgarin. 


Skarlatos Byzantios has just published 
the first part of his {** Ancient ana Modern 
Greek'Dictipnary." He is a very learned 
scholar, and fully competent to undertake 
the task of supplying this desideratum. 
The work will be printed and published by 
Koromilas, who has become the first printer 
and bookseller in Greece. Since his visit, in 
1834, to. the celebrated printing; establish- 
ment of Didot Frdres in Pans, he has 
printed upwards of 200,000 volumes. 


Two societies have been recently formed 
in London. One for the advancement of 
Oriental literature, by the publication of 
various standard works in the original 
texts, for it is known that the whole literature 
of Asia, with the exception of China and 
Tibet, exists in manuscript ; copies, there- 
fore, can never be very numerous, and 
must always t>e expensive : indeed, ancient 
manuscripts are rapidly disappearing in the 
Bast ; and it is to be feared that in another 
half century the few literary treasures pre- 
served in the libraries of Europe will be the 
only relics saved from the wreck of Eastern 

Every branch of Oriental literature will 
thus be preserved, and the study will receive 
a greater impulse when the task of translat- 
ing has been rendered comparatively e-isy, 
by the publication of a sufficient number of 
original text books. The Society proposes 
to print the most approved works in the 
Syrlac, Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Sanscrit, 
and Zend languages, and in those of India, 
Tartary, Tibet, China, and the countries 
that lie between China and Hindustan. A 
subscription of two guineas per annum will 
entitle each subscriber to a copy of every 
work published by the Society. The Earl 
of Munster has been elected President; 
Lord Prudhoe, Sir Gore Ouseley, the Hon. 
Mountstuart Etphinstone, Sir George Staun- 

ton, and Horace Hayman Wilson, Vice- 
Presidents 3 and a committee of twenty-four 
members, cbmposed of the Professors of 
Oriental Languages at the different Univer- 
sities, as wellas of distinguished scholars, 
has been appointed to report as to the value 
of the works offared to the Society for publi- 

The other is entitled the Percy Society, 
and has been formed for the purpose or 
publishine old Ballads, Plays, Tracts, iic, 
connected with the lishter branches of our 
ancient literature. The Society is flourish- 
ing, and promises much amusement at a 
cheap rate. The following works are in 
progress, printed uniformly in 8vo. 

1. A Collection of Old Ballads anterior to 
the reign of Charles L * 

2. A most pleasant and merie new come- 
die, intituled a Knack to knowe a Knave. 
With Kemp's applauded Merrimentes of the 
Men of Goteham, in receiving the King into 
Goteharo, 1594. 

3. Sonss of the London Prentices and 
Trades, during the reigns of Henry 
VII., Henry Vfll., Elizabeth and James I. 

4. A Selection of the Miscellaneous Poems 
of John Lidgate. 

5. *The Complainte of them that ben 
to late maryed.' From a very rare copy 
from the press of Wvnkyn de Worde. 

6. A Collection of Chriatmss Carols, from 
the 12th to the 15th Century. 

7. *The Payne and Sorowe of evyll Mar- 
riage.' From a copy believed to be unique, 
printed by Wynkyn de Worde. 

8. A Collection of Lyrical Pieces con- 
tained in plays of a date prior to the sup- 

firession of Theatrical Representations m 

9. * A search for Money : or the lamenta- 
ble Complaint for the losse of the wander- 
ing Knignt Monsieur TArgent.' By William 
Rowley, 1609. 

10. A Collection of Jacobite Ballads and 
Fragments, many of them hitherto unpub- 

11. A Collection of Old English Ballads, 
from the reign of Henry VI., to that of Ed- 
ward VI. 

12. * A Treatise shewing and declaring the 
Pryde and Abuse of Women now-a-dajs.' 
From a copy printed in the reign of Edward 

13. A Collection of Early Ballads relating 
to Naval Affairs. 

14. * Kind-Harts Dream. Conteiningfive 
Apparitions, with their Invectives against 
abuses raigning.' Printed without date in 

16. The Poetical Works of James I. of 
Scotland, with a Prelim. Dissertation. 

16. 'Pleasant Q,uippes for Upstart new- 
fangled Gentlewomen,' 1596. , 



Flioii JvLT TO Ssptkmbbr, 1840, INCLVSnrs. 


Baumgsrten-Cnisiua, D. L.^ Colhpendiam der 

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Ewald, H.. Die poetischen Biicher dea ATlen Run- 

des erki&rt von etc. Die Psalmen. 8v». 

Gdtting. 9d edition, Part II. In 4 parts, ll 2ft 
Genoude, de. Exposition du dogme catholiqne. 8yo 

Hasc, D. Karl, Theologiteh akademiiche Lehr- 

scbriften vod etc. Leben Jesn. Qro, Vol. I. 

3d edition. Leipz. 
Hefele, Dr. Carl J., Das Sendschreiben dee Apoe- 

tJea Barnabas aufii Neae antenmcht, und erklart. 

8vo Tabingen. 6s 
Iroilation, I', de la tr^s Saint Vlerge, sur le module 

de limitation de Jdsus Christ. Edition enri- 

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Paris. 13s 
James, Dictionnairc de T^critare sainte, ou Rfiper. 

toire et concordance de tons les textes de Tancien 

et du nuu?eaa Testament. Supplement indis- 
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Paris. 9s 6d 
Johlaon, J. n^V^a-pp BibUscb-Hebraisehes Wdrter- 

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8vo Frankfurt. 7s 
Krabbe, Oito, Ecclesiae Evangelicae Hamburg! 

Instauratae Historiam exposuit etc. 4to Ham. 

burgi. 78 6d 
Klopstook, La Messiade. Traduction nouvelle, 

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Lisco, Dt, theol. Das christlicbe Kircheiijahr. £in 

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Ister Jahrg. 8to Stuttgart. Part II. 2s 6d 
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Rudelbach, A., Die Grand veste der Lutberischen 

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Renter. H., Df erroribusqni aetate media dootrinam 
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Cooper, C. P., Recucil des d^pdches, rapports, In- 
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Corpus juris eivilis reco^osei brevibusqne adnota* 
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Corpus juris romani antejnstiniani, etc. Praefatus 
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Feuerbach, Dr. A., Lehrbuch des gemeinen in 

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8vo. Giessen. Ifia. 
FledL, E., Das StraArerfabrender Preuasischen MUi- 

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RotCeck, H., Ueber Concnrrenz der Veibrechen. 

8vo. Freiburg. 12. 


List of Jf (no IVarkt 


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Rousselot, Etndes sar la philosophie dans le moyen- 

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Baehr, Dr. J., Oeschichte der rdmischen Literatur. 

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ABt« L — Denkwurdigkeittn und vernnschie 
Sckrijten^ von K. A. Varnhagen von 
£n8b« 4 vols. Svo. Mannheim: Hoff. 
1837-8. Nene Folge, later Band. Brock- 

' hans, 1840. 

T&E Germanfl, who write everything^ cannot 
write memoirs. Let them not be ashamed. 
NoN OMNIA P0SSUM17B 0MNB8. Neither let 
them despair. Time, which in so many 
cases brings roses, and has even been accused 
latteriy (thou^ strangely in the £ice of recent 
notable facts), among other mirabUia mundij 
of threatening to mcdce Frenchmen sensible, 
may also succeed, by a succesnon of reason- 
able efforts, in making Germans witty. We 
have known very solenm persons by constant 
and conscientious endeavour (aided perhaps 
somewhat by a favourable change in their 
digestive mtem) learn to make very proper 
puns. ^ Jrapprends dfUre mfj^ as me old 
baron said when he jumped over the tables : 
why should not that heavy lumbering Ger- 
man transport, laden with sand-bags and wind- 
hags, and all expressible bulky things innu- 
merable, by the aid of carpenters and ship- 
t^iigfats and other skilful persons, be shaven 
down and trimmed and painted into a neat 
pleasure pinnace, such as those in which 
fenglish and French wits delight to sail 1— 
Meanwhile Varnhagen von ^ise has only 
done the half, and the least important half, 
of the woik : he has trimmed the vessel 
neatly enough, painted it gaily, and licked it 
passing smooth: but it is still the bulging 
Junk that we knew of old in German dis- 

VOL. XXVI. 18 

course, not the light limber c^hde that 
prances friskily amid the twinkling jphos- 
phorescence of babbling waves. Or s&y it 
IS a piece of Mosaic put togeth^ With ex- 
ceeding skiUulness, and presenting hette suid 
there some pretty, even playf\il jHCtul'es; 
but as a whole, formal, systeknatic, i^, £fdl- 
ing to please remarkably by an over-zeal not 
to offencl, infected considerably tiritti the un- 
avoidable dulnesB of studied decency and 
prudish propriety. 

But there is another screw loose ih the 
matter. Qmet humour may b<e an apt iKXt" 
rogate for nimbleness of wit, and puri!;|^ df 
feeling for brilliancy of idea : that tliagical 
unde&iable German Gemueth may torn the 
scale fiivouiably against the redoubtable 
French esprit any day, we ai^ assured. 
Jung Stilling's autobiography, and other 
booki of that sort which have been uncom- 
monly popular in England, are remttfkaUe 
instances here ; but when instead c( mystical 
young men and old charcoal burners, villnge 
pastors and sensible housewives, statesmen 
and diplomatists, — a Mettemich, a Gentz, a 
Talleyrand, and even such "high persons'* 
as a Francis, an Alexander, and a Frederick 
William are brought upon the carpet ; when, 
instead of pots and pans, Sduerkraui and 
Btitterbemmen^ Berlin ''small white'* and 
brown Bavarian, congresses of Viemui and 
holy alliances are discussed — in this case 
another power and a mightier one comes 
into play ; there is a censohship in Germany : 
and it appears true beyond reach of ejrcep- 
tion that a good literature of public memoirs 


Memoirs of Varnhagen von Ense, 


never can flourish under that fatal restric- 

No one can have entered into the historical 
and biographical literature of Germany with 
any small spirit of discrimination, without 
having had frequent occasion to make this 
remark. It is not that this or the other in- 
stance of reticency or ialse delicacy requires 
to be pointed out by a minute and curious 
criticism of detail, but there is a general tone 
in the whole handling which strikes the free 
Briton instinctively as something strange. 
The political institutions of Germany bear 
the same relation to those of England that 
Popery does to Protestantism ; and the politi- 
cal literature of the two countries is necessarily 
affected in the same way by the civil institu- 
tions as the theological literature of the two 
religions is by the ecclesiastical. There is 
in despotic countries a sacredness felt to sur- 
round the characters of kings and officers of 
state, similar to that which separates the ec- 
clesiastic from the layman in countries where 
Popery is the predominant religion i and this 
ieeling in either case produces the same re- 
sult ; viz. even when there is no formal cen- 
sorship, a virtual extinction of all freedom of 
individual remark on the character of persons 
who are the objects of unconditioned public 
reverence. No doubt this is becoming and 
beneficial in many respects ; to ^' speak evil 
of dignities" habitually, as is the common 
trick of all free countries, is a double sin, 
once because of the spealang and again be- 
cause of the person spoken at ^ but it is ma- 
nifest on the other hand, where the follies, 
frailties and absurdities of persons in high 
places are not and cannot be freely exposed, 
anything like truth of history, much more 
anything like character and nature in bio- 
sraphicaJ detail, is hopeless. Varnhagen, for 
instance, in. his account of the coi^ress of 
Vienna, to be presently noticed, tells us that 
to relieve the monotony of the waltz, the act- 
ed charade and the tableau vivant, some of 
the diplomatic wits proposed the problem — 
who is the most laughable figure at the con- 
gress 1 and that this question should be an- 
swered according to the forms of process of 
the congress, by protocols, notes, statistical 
tables, committees and other known machin- 
ery of diplomatists. The proposal was agreed 
to ; folios were blotted, and tape was wasted 
past reckoning, and the result — parturiunt 
mofUes — ^Mras &at the prize of ludicrous ex- 
ternality was after mudi deliberation allotted 
to the two individuals who — " naturlich las- 
sen wir dergleichen Geheimnisse auf sich 
edbst beruhen.^^ — " But these mysteries of 
course," says our memoir writer, " must be 
left in their own obscurity" — ^and thus the 

gossip-greedy reader finds himself deceived 
and disappomted again and again through the 
volume ; till when we begin to count our 
gains in that sort of merclundise which we 
had expected specially to find in memoirs 
(since it can be found nowhere eke), we 
perceive that they are for the most part very 
small indeed, and that names, names, names 
— mere names— or things as unsubstantial as 
Banquo's kings or Justinus Kemer's Bitter, 
are all that we have got for real and natural 
men that eat and drink, talk, laugh, ride, 
walk, and sometimes trip and stumble like 

We are informed, for instance, in this same 
account of the congress of Vienna, that the 
Emperor Alexander and Eugene Beauhamois, 
viceroy of Italy, were seen daily walking arm 
in arm on the Bastei " in bearing and car- 
riage two of the most beautiful phenomena 
(die schdnsten Erscheinungen) that one 
could set his eyes on." What a respectable 
and very proper generality is this f Why 
did not the writer tell us how Alexander was 
dressed ; whether he wore on the Bastei the 
same *^ blue coat and breeches that he used 
to wear when gallc^ing on a large grey horse 
on the Prater ;"* and how beautifully his 
round, smiling &ce contrasted with the dark 
militaiy moustachio'd countenance of Eu- 
gene 1 But no man is a hero to his valet-de- 
chambre ; and as all kings and princes are 
heroes to Varnhagen, it is not surprising that 
he should abstain from going into such mi- 
nute details as might prove tlutt they also are 
mortal. Not so, however, with ^' high per- 
sons" (hohe personen) beyond the immediate 
reach of German and Russian influence. If 
Lord and Lady Castlereagh, like their own 
nation, given to bodily neatness, walk the 
Bastei as " primly rieged as if they were go- 
ing to a masked ball, ^^ ^ ^^ ^ ^ ^ ^'^ 
ticed; and with the neat observation ap- 
pended, " not remarking how much they were 
remarked." Varnhagen is indeed by no 
means deficient in an eye for those apparently 
insignificant externalities which are the surest 
index to character ; he is only so thoroughly 
infected with the true German reverence for 
titled dignities, that he never dares to speak 
of them in their vulgar capacity as men. 
Therefore he tells us nothing of ^' a thin figure 
with sallow shrunken features, of mild ex- 
pression, with a stifl* neck, bending a little 
forward, and walking badly," — ^that struck 
Dr. Bright particularly among the notables 
of the congress. But this figure wore a Ger- 
man crown ; and characteristic as the man- 

• Brighl^fl Travels in Hangary, 1818. We get 
no 6uch pictureequo particulars from Varnhagen. 


Memoirs of Varnhagtn von Ense. 


ner is in some respect of the man (Kaiser 
Franz\ Vamhagen's memoirs contain no 
such notices ; throughout the entire work we 
are constantly cheated of truth, nature, and 
reality^ hy the vague reverence of loyal, and 
Uie mce propriety of diplomatic phrase. 

For Vamhagen von Ense, we must here 
observe, is not only a German and a courtier, 
but also a diplomatist — ^asort of small Prussian 
Gentz — and for this reason also, not the most 
fit person to write good memoirs of public 
persons and public things. A memoir writer 
should be, mwardly, df the most free and 
gossiping humour, and outwardly, quite un- 
influenced by political or other considerations. 
But Vamhagen is, at this present moment, or 
has, till very lately, been Uving in the service 
of the Prussian government as a diplomatic 
scribe 9 the congress of Vienna b but of yester- 
day ; Gentz, and Frederick William, and Tal- 
leyrand, and William Humboldt, and so many 
other famous persons of that assemblage, only 
died the other day ; Mettemich is stUl alive, 
and his policy with him is alive also, not in 
Vienna only, but further north ; and in these 
circumstances, what could a prim, proper, 
prudent, Vamhagen von Ense be expected 
to do but to bring forth his gather-all of public 
reminiscences, licked into smoothness by the 
political Aya>yof that mlesthe etiquette of the 
council that sits at Frankfort, and to deal 
forth his small parcels of politico-personal 
&cts with measured neatness, as a select spi- 
rit of the select society of /a creiwe at Vienna, 
with delicate fingers, deals cards? Not, 
however, that our memorialist has suffered 
any real bodily violence to be done to his 
soul in this matter. Not he. He has been 
in long training — like poet Goethe at Wei- 
mar — and by an instinctive sympathy, by an 
unconscious wisdom of pretty words, says on 
every doubtful occasion precisely that thin^ 
thdt no wise man in Berlin or Vienna could 
have better said, being paid 100 dollars for 
every line. He is the v^ picked man of 
proprieties; the beautiful genius of glazed 
paper, gilt edges, and crow-quills. He is the 
apostle of moderation ; the living incarnation 
of all the decencies ; the complete orthodox 
body of all the respectabilities. And yet he 
is not a common roan in any sense ; he is a 
man of uncommon neatness and tact, and 
bearing about with him, even when he says 
the severest things, (as he can do, when 
kings are not in the case), an air of candour 
only to be equalled in the critical writings of 
Goethe, or in that calm, classical, diplomatic 
aspect of Prince Mettemich, which bewitch- 
ed Mrs. Trollope into the worship of conti- 
nental despotism, and before his trip into 
Italy, metamorphosed, most opportunely^ the 

rough, unmannerly, English Whiggism of 
Herr von Raumer. He only wants what 
Mettemich and Groethe also want — a broad 
gush of jovial human feeling, and a certain 
rough manliness of character, which, when 
wisely tempered, never £iils to please, even 
amid the most artificial smoothness of a 
fashionable saloon. He, on all occasions, 
prefers the manageable regularity of polished 
weakness, to the occasional eccentricity of 
rude strength. He makes an idol of Gentz, 
a man who, notwithstanding his European 
celebrity, was little better than a skilful 
stylist ; in other respects scarcely a man at 
all, less than a woman,* a mere ^ eunuch of 
the portfolio." He sneers in his delicate way 
(for he has not pith enoueh to give a muscu- 
lar Gibbonian sneer) at Jahn, Von Gagem, 
Wemer, and other rude and uncourteous, 
though honest and trae developments of 
manhood. He sins in the same places where 
his Magnus Apollo^ Goethe, sinned ; finger- 
ing often where a brave man would strike ; 
painting where an honest man would cut. 
He is, indeed, a walking cabinet edition of 
Goethe, in all the externalities of manner 
and style ; elevating neatness almost into 
sublimity ; witching prettiness that it looks 
like beauty. 

Von Ense's memoirs have been much 
praised — ^not a little overpraised, we think, 
in Germsbiy. But there are reasons for this. 
In the first place, the Germans, though the 
most systematic book-makers in Europe, 
know nothing, properly speaking, of style. 
As a nation, they cannot write. They roll 
on their heavy carriages of heaped erudition, 
their ponderous gasometers of a flatulent phi- 
losophy, like the lumbering motions of some 
half-created antediluvian megalotherion, 
through bogs and sea-marshes portentous. 
Of this they have become of late sensible ; 
and though they will not allow, perhaps, 
when the question is bluntly put, that, as a 
nation, they are most clumsy handlers of 
their own proper instmment and " national 
symbol," (as Menzel will have it,) the goose 
QUILL, yet they betray their secret conscious- 
ness of the weak point, by the multitudinous 
cackling instantly raised round this or that 
singular individual, whom nature or art may 
have gifted with the rare talent of saying 
what he means to say clearly and natuially, 
without embarrassment. So it has happened 
with Vamhagen. He can write smoothly 
and prettily, and intelligibly ; he has studied 
the crafl of turning sentences ; and straight- 
way, with our honest Teutonic critics, there 

• He says this himRelfin a loiter to Varnhagen'i 
wifi't the celebrated Kahcl. 


Memoirs of Vamkagen von Etue, 


ifl ^o €»d to the noise of general wondennent i the general table of contents— -of soch part of 
aiid laudatiQn. '^ piestr ScHdi«£ jSf^/ / dieset the contents, at least, as, taken together, fism 

a connected historico-biographical whole. 

VQRTAEFFLicHS Styl ! ! dtest Klarheit und 
lUif^heit! diese ruAige Wurde! diese edit 
Eifi^ackkeitj die nicM nut an Goethe steta 
leb^Hg erinnerty sondem Goethe selber leib- 
hcfiig iet!^^ — ^And so forth, in a strain that, 
ii^ England, would appear ludicrous, and 
even childish. In the second place, Vam- 
hagen is, and has for a Ions train of years 
been, in close connection with the periodical 
press, and has proved himself a most active 
and intelligent member of the noble brother- 
hood of reviewers in Germany. The literary 
productions of men so situated are generally, 
and in the nature of things must be, apt to 
be overpraised in all countries. 

We have only (me other remade of a pre- 
liminary kind to make. We have now be- 
fore us five considerable volumes, not of 
Denkwurdigkeiten only, but of Denhumrdig" 
heiten 9nd Vermischte SckrifUn — '^Memoin 
and Miscellaneous Works." What are these 
Miscellaneous Wodcs 1 The veriest imposi- 
tion upon the credulity of an unsuspecting 
public that we have seen for some time — a 
vexy prime specimen of the grand modem 
art 01 book-making. One-hal^ or one-third 
of a volimie, contams the proper memoirs — 
ttie bait by which the pubhc is caught. The 
rest is a mere bundling tc^ether of loose 
ephemeral criticisms, that, if Scott or Cole- 
nd^ had written them, might have merited 
porthumous publication in a separate work \ 
but, in their present connection, can only be 
repifded either as a piece of most egregious 
vip^y on the part of the writer, or as a vul- 
gv trick of the trade, to s^ell three volumes 
into five, v^ make every dollar count two. 
We should not have made this observation 
on Vamhagen's account, had he been a sole 
offender, but it is a national sin of the 6er- 
mm people ; they print all that they scrib- 
ble ; tney scribble all that should have been 
riddl^ out of the brain with shame, instead 
of being bashed up into a dessert with much 
petence : and in that broad brown bowl of 
beggisrs' soup — thin and yet muddy — for 
which you have paid three Prussian dollars 
currencv, (a genuine English gull,) the Chris- 
tian student is veiy lavish of vision who will 
1^ eager to search out the rari nantes in gur- 
gite vastOy of German wit and German intel- 
lect which inhabit there. 

l^ieae r^p^ariu concern our German readers 
uoipce immediately. Our English readers will 
bq more pleasea that we proceed to glean 
fiom tbe9^ muUi&rious pages of contemporary 
record such passages as may seem to possess 
the most permanent and general mterest. For 
this purpose we cannot So better than prefix 

L Memoirs of Justus Erich BoUmann. 

2. Graf Schlabemdorf. 

3. My YouDg Days, and the Friends of my 


4. The Univenity Halle. 1806-7. 

5. Studies and Intenruptions. Berlin, 1807. 

6. Rahel. 1807. 

7. Visit to Jean Paul Richter. Baireuth,1808. 

8. Tfibingen, 1808-9. 

9. The Batde of Deutsch-Wagiam. 1809. 

10. The F^te of Prince Schwartzenberg, at 

Pftris. 1810. 

11. The Court of Napoleon. 1810. 

12. Steiofiirt 1810-11. 

13. Hoping and Waiting. Prague, 1811-12. 

14. TecteoDom. 

15. Hamburgh in the Spring of 1813. 

16. The Camjpaigns of 1813-14, in Germany^ 

Denmark, fl^ France. 

17. The Congress of Vienna, 1814-15. 

The intelligent reader will see at once 
from these headings of chapters what a comr* 
prehensive interest the volumes before us are 
calculated to command. No well-informed 
p^Bon who takes a common interest in the ex 
traordinary events by which the present busy 
century was ushered into existence, will read 
this bead-roll with indifference. In any hands 
memoirs of such a diameter could not be 
blundered into utter uselessness ; and Yarn* 
hagen von Ense, bating the weak points 
w£ch we thought it our duty to notice 
prominently, is no vulgar artist. We shall 
therefi>re proceed hopefully on our survey, 
and point out with as little commentaiy aa 
possible what appears most remarkable. 

Our author ins thrown an agreeable vari- 
ety into his memoirs, by writing part of them 
in hia own person, and part of them in the 
shape of separate biograpnical notices of re- 
markable individuals with whom the fortune 
of Hfe brought him into contact With two 
such biographies he commences, and they are 
among the most interesting and characteris- 
tic in the whole work. Justus Erich BoU- 
mann, an Hanoverian by birth, by profession 
or^nally a physician, by practice afterwards 
a merclumt m America and En^and, was one 
of those intelligent and eneigetic perscms 
whose merits are always in the inverse pro- 
portions of their prominence, and who only 
want the spur of ambition or the itch of vanity 
to make them play a great part in human aP 
&irs. But the instinctive modesty and wise 
moderation that tones their nature generally 
keeps them in the back ground $ tiieir som 
woiks in many places where their hand ia 
not seen, their presence by the many never 
suspected; as the impetuous eloquence of 


Memoirs of Vamkagen v<m Enst. 


ft Mirabeau publicly thunders with the quiet ways surrounded by an air of unimpMsioned 

wisdom of a Dumout. SoUmaDD, however, 
bad» ia addition to great good sense and a 
very nice sensibility, a cast of enterprise and 
romance in his temperament, which facought 
him on several occasions in Ins early years 
much more prominently b^ore the public 
than the quiet course of his latter years 
would have wammted us to suppose. Those 
who are conversant with the early history of 
the French Revolution, and particularly with 
the memoirs of Lafayette and the works of 
Madame de Sta^l, will perhaps recognize an 
old friend in BoUmann. He distinguished his 
youth by two notable exploits, me one the 
bringing of Narbonne successfully from P^iris 
to London in 1792 ; the other the endeavour- 
ing and almost succeeding in bringing La- 
fityette out of the state prison at Olmutz in 
1794. Bollmann was also at Paris during the 
hottest ferment of revolutionary excitement 
in the spring of 1792 1 and his reflections on 
the great druna, or horrific melo-drama rather, 
that was acting before him, prove an interest 
very similar in character, and distinguished 
by the same prophetic good sense and in- 
stinctive right feeling, that render the re- 
centlv published memoirs of Sir Samuel 
RomiUy so valuable. We regret that we 
cannot extract some of these graphic pictures. 
The French Revolution has hitherto been 
known to us exclusively from French or 
English portraiture. The future historian, 
even when he finds nothing new in matters 
of &ct, will not return unbenefited firom the 
participation of German views also. As in a 
trial by jury it is not the number of witnesses 

Senerally, but the number of distinct and in- 
ependent witnesses on which a sound ver- 
dict is returned. We extract BoUmann's es- 
timate of Narbonne and Madame de Stael ; 
both of which, fix)m the intimate relation in 
which he stood to these distinguished indi- 
viduals, are valuable. The date of the ex- 
tracts is 1792. 

'* Narbonne is a rather tall, stout-built, strong 
man, but there is something striking, great and 
commanding about his head. He is inexhaust- 
ible in wit and richness of ideas. He is perfect 
in all the social virtues. He spreads grace over 
things most dry. He carries everything along 
with him, and when he pleases can intoxicate 
an individual or a whole company equally with 
his conversation ! There was only one man in 
France who was compared with hmi in this re- 

rt, and a man who, in my opinion, is certainlv 
his superior — his own friend Talleyrana. 
Karbcnne pleases, but in the lonj^ run also wea- 
ries : to Talleyrand one could listen for years. 
Narbonne is evidently working, and betrays the 
intention to please; but pleasant things glide 

comfort and quietude. What Narbonne says is 
more brilliant. What Talleyrand says is more 
graceful, more delicate, more neat. Narbonne 
18 not for everybodv; very sensitive per8on» 
cannot away with him. Talleyrand, without 
being less morally corrupted than Narbonne, can 
bring tears even from those who despise him. 
I know several remarkable instances of this. 

^ All Frenchmen, especially those who move 
in the great world, are more or less distingnish- 
ed by these socisi qualities; and I think they 
* put their best foot foremost.' They are sadly 
deficient in grand simplicity and in soundhead- 
edness. They can never do a thing in anatural 
and straightforward way ; and by continually 
endeavouring to show uncommon dexterity and 
infinite tact, they generally over-work the busi- 
ness whatever it is, and work themselves to the 
devlL On every subject their first care is to 
talk cleverly, and with the alacrity of lightning 
they dart mto the most remote and unlikely 
views, which are however the best for their 
purpose if they be only striking ; meanwhile the 
substantial r^ity, lying before their nose, is 
overlooked, and after the most immense previa* 
ration of Iqgic, the most miserable practical 
conclusion comes forth. They have no nrmness, 
and no power of endurance. Bating these de* 
fects, I have mostly found them g^-hearted, 
and when they act wickedly, it is generally 
from weakness. During my residence at Ken- 
sin^on, I had frequent opportunity to make and 
verify these remarks. One who has not seen it 
will hardly believe how totally different the 
English character is from these type-specimens 
of the great nation." 

Thus Bollmann, as a true German, cannot 
conceal his aversion £com the Celtic, and his 
sympathy with the Anglo-Saxon race. 

0^ Madame de Sta^l, of whose character 
Bollmann appears to have entertained a very 
high opinion, we have the following — 

''De Stael is a genius; an extraordinary ec- 
centric person in whatever she says or does. 
She sleeps only a very few hours, and continues 
during the remainder of the day in a state of un- 
interrapted terrible activity ; she does not know 
what rest is. I never saw her without a piece 
of paper, which she kept rolhn^ between her 
fingers ; her conversation is a series of treatises, 
or a piled-up mass of whim and wit. What 
she hates most is to have any commonplace per- 
son near her. While her hair is being curled, 
when at her breakfast, at an average a third of 
every day, she is ^mplo^ed in writing; she has 
not quiet enough to revise what she has once 
written, to file and to improve it ; but even the 
readiest out-pourings of^her soul, crowded as 
it is hterally with thronging ideas, are of ex- 
treme interest, and contain fragments full of the 
finest acumen, and the most living energy. She 
has several works of the most grave contents 
ready for the press, and writes ever on. I have 
read many ofher pieces just as she writes them. 
She has not a few faults, but of these there are 

without effort from Talleyrand, and he is al-| some, that (inexcusable in any other person) her 


Memoirs of Vamhagen von Ense. 


genius has the power to convert into beauties; 
she demands a measure for herself alone. 

** She is pretty well built, but her face is not 
beautiAil ; she is somewhat coppery Ikupferig), 
and her mouth is a little turned up ; but she is 
not in the least vain. She has nothing of the 
appearance of a learned lady ; she has a frank, 
open, unconstrained manner, and an air of ho- 
nesty and truth not easily resisted ; she is not in 
any wise puffed up about her knowledge ; and 
I have heard her say with great itaivett, * A^inst 
a man who is only clever I will maintain mv 
position ; also against a man who is only well 
informed; but he who unites both wit and 
learning soon makes me feel that I am a wo- 


These remarks were written in England 
in 1792. After a long residence in America, 
Bollmann returned to the west in 1814 ; at- 
tended and assisted at the Congress of Vien- 
na, and in 1815 was again in London, engag- 
ed in extensive manufacturing speculations. 
In his letters of this period, he gives some re- 
marics on the English character, which we 
shall extract. It may be said generally, that 
the Germans, as a nation, estimate and un- 
derstand us ikr better than the French. 

" In England reason and consideration have a 
strong sway, order and rule triumph over whim 
and arbitrary will. There is a law here for a 
maltreated norse, or a misused soat (I havejust 
seen two such processes), as well as for a great 
lord insulted ; and even in the streets you may 
see the most insignificant foot-passenger along- 
side of the most splendid equipages, walking 
with the conviction expressed in his gait, that 
he also is somebody : in all this, in the pervad- 
ing prevalence of rule over arbitrary will, is the 
substance of true liberty. You make essays, 
sublimelv blundering to attain the same thing 
beyond the seas also ; but such liberty as the 
English boast is a growth, and has been deve- 
loped naturally out of the past. This, however, 
in France they will not comprehend. Accord- 
. ingly we see, on your side of the channel, the 
despotism of prescriptive dotage succeeded by 
the despotism of magnificent conceptions^ bor^ 
dering for the most part on sheer madness; 
while this again is undermined by the yet strong- 
er despotism of vulgar intrigue and unprincipled 
consistency. And after much noise and trum- 
peting, everything ends where it begun, because 
your great political geniuses insisted on begin- 
ning where they ought to have ended. A com- 
mon boor here understands the science of gov- 
ernment better than a whole corporative aca- 
demy of continental philosophers. England is 
the native country of freedom, sound reason, 
manliness^ magnanimity, and comfortabilityJ^* 

But Bollmann was far from being a blind 

* Tho word we trannlate here is Behaglichkeit, 
It is well known that the Germans complain of not 
beinp abl« to translate the Encrlish word •* comfort- 
able " Behasrlich ocrtamly comes near, but it is 
not quite the thing ; it apphcs more to the mind. 

admirer of everything in England. Despite 
the fine language just quoted, he seems not 
to have found himself quite at home amongst 
us ; he seems to have loved the country more 
tluui the people ; to have respected the peo- 
ple more than he loved them. To a friend 
in Vienna he writes, — 

" You in Vienna are famous for order, would 
only that worthy old Pouthon were here ! he 
would fall into an ecstasy to observe how great 
a man can be in work, and how magnificent in 
the useful ! At the same time the English are 
narrouMninded, cold^ stiff, if you will. It is 
difficult to be everything good. I love the Eng^ 
lish much, but more in the mass than as individu- 
als. For this or that stray travelling coxcomb, 
one gets no idea of the nation. Their national- 
ity is a part of their existence. £n£fland is a 
noble nation, but France is more pleasant to 
live in, because Frenchmen are more aereeable. 
I can never look upon an Englishman but as a 
part of the English nation, to which I do not 
belong. An in£vidual Frenchman or German, 
to me at least, is loveable as an engaging total- 
ity. Altofi^ether there is something more kindly 
and friendw in the society and manners of the 

These remarks have their truth doubtless ; 
but, as in all cases of national character, the 
weak points which strike the stranger most 
forcibly are generally precisely those which 
are most closely in-grown with the sub- 
stantial strength and real greatness of the peo- 

Grab Schlabemdorf, the next character 
whom Vamhagen sketches, was a most singu- 
lar person, a sort of strange German Cole- 
ridge, more however of a philosopher and a 
politician than a poet, living like a hermit m 
the midst of the bustling history ol revolu- 
tionary Paris; miserly in small things, the 
lord of a garret, slovenly in his attire, and 
cherishing a beard ; but generous, even mag^ 
nificent on a lai^ scale, and actuated in au 
things by motives of the purest patriotism, 
and the most disinterested benevolence, a 
character ready made for Sir Walter Scott 
This man, as a foreigner and a German aris- 
tocrat, and also as the esteemed friend of 
Condorcet, Mercier, Brissot, and the unfortu- 
nate Girondist party, naturally enough during 
the reign of terror was more than " suspected 
of being suspected," and sat for many days, 
first in the Conciergerie, and then in the 
Luxembourg, in constant expectation of the 
guillotine. He escaped, however, after all ; 
strangely enough, saving his life by losing 
his boots! Vamhagen relates the circum- 
stance as follows : 

" One morning the death-cart came for its 
usual number of daily victims ; and Schlabam- 


Memoirs of Vamhagen von Eme. 


dcrf 's name was called out He immediately 
with the greatest coolness and good-humour 
prepared for departure ; pesence of mind in 
some shape, a grand stoicism or mere indiffer- 
ence, were common in those terrible times. And 
Schlabemdorf was not the man to make an un- 
graceful departure, when the unavoidable must 
of &te stood steinly before him. He was soon 
dressed, only his boots were missing ; he sought, 
and sought, and sought, and the gaoler sought 
with him in this comer and in that ; but they 
were not to be found. ' Well,' said Schlabem- 
doii sharply, * this is too bad : to be guillotined 
without my boots will nev^r do. Hark ye, my 
ffood friend,* continued he with simple good-hu- 
mour to the gaoler, * take me to-morrow ; one 
day makes no difference ; it is the man they 
want, not Tuesday or Wednesday.* The gaoler 
agreed. The waggon, full enough without that 
one head, went off to its destmation ; Schla- 
bemdorf remained in the prison. Next morn- 
ing, at the usual hour, the vehicle returned; 
and the victim who had so strangely escaped on 
the previous day was ready, boots and all, wait- 
ing the word of command. But behold ! his 
name was not heard that day ; nor the third 
day, nor the fourth ; and not at all. There was 
no mystery in the matter. It was naturally 
supposed that he had fallen with the other vic- 
tims named for the original day ; in the multi- 
tude of sufferers no one could curiously inquire 
for an individual; for the days that followed 
there were enough of victims without him ; and 
so he remained in prison till the fall of Robes- 
pierre, when with so many others he recovered 

tainhr also received a poUte hint from Fouch6 
&ivaiy, that '^ the air of Paris was not 


good for his health ;" for he burned inwardly, 
like a very Stein or Bliicher, with honest 
German hatred against the splendid despot. 
In a letter to Klinger (quoted by Vamhagen), 
the philosopher Jacobi writes of him as fol- 

*' A German in every view, a most remaric- 
able man, who has lived through the whole 
stages of the revolution at Paris (I made ac- 
quaintance with him first so early as the year 
1786, in London) ; this man said to me, 'For 
eight years here we had nothing but a regular 
topsy-turvy in public affairs, a confusion as in a 
country inn, where boors are drinking, every 
one outroaring his neighbour, and one affair of 
blows and cudgels succeeding another. Then 
came Bonaparte on the stage with his holla ! 
Holla ! cried he, and all he did was to cry 
holla ! His first necessity was to blow out all 
the lights. He brought no decision, but only an 
end of all questions. At the same time he med 
alouG, freedom or no freedom, religion or no re- 
ligion, morality or no morality ; it all comes to 
the same thing; libertt, egalitt, so be it; only 
let no man open his mouth more, or move in 
any direction otherwise than he is ordered ; for 
as things are now, so ought they to be. and so 
must they remain. This same speech, changed 
a little 01 course according to circumstances, the 
great man addressed to the whole of Europe. 
That one only remaining nest ofJacobins^ Eng' 

his liberty. He owed this miraculous escape, land, shall be destroyed, and then the impudence 

not the least strange in the strange history of 
the Revolution, partljr to the kindness of the 

SLoler, partly and mainly to his good temper, 
e was a umversal favourite in the gad." 

Schlabemdorf was, we have said, though 
he lived all his life in the same street and 
the same garret, a hermit in Pkris, no 
Frenchman in heart, but a pure patriot, and 
cherishing habitually the warmest interest in 
German politics. It will be interesting to 
the historian in this regard to know, what 
Vamhagen tells us, that he was the author of 
the fomous pamphlet — ^^ J^apoleon Bona' 
parte und das Framdsische Volk unter seu 
nem Konsulate" which appeared in Ger- 
many in 1804, and was tran^ated into Eng- 
lish the same year ; a worthy precursor to 
the publication which two years afterwards 
appeared in Nomberg, and for which, as is 
well known, the unfortunate publisher, Palm, 
was shot by order of Napoleon. Ail the 
world knows how pitilessly that ^^ equestrian 
Robe^ierre" hunted poor Madame de Sta#l 
Qfver Europe, because she had dared to say in 
print that the Germans were many of them 
better philosophers, and all of them more 
honest men than the then cormpted French. 
Schlabemdorf had he not lived in that 
strange, retired, anchoretic &shion, had cer- 

of independent thought and independent feeling 
will soon come to an end, and everything without 
will straightway become as pliant and obedient 
as the internal mights have already shown then^ 
selves. Of the German frowardness there is no 
cause to give one*s self particular concern ; a 
visible threat with the cudgel will quiet that 
beast in a moment.** 

These words, especially the last which we 
have printed in italics, are remarkable as 
written by a German in Paris, amid all the 
fair promises and rising glories of the consu- 
late. That Napoleon was actuated mainly 
during his whole life by the steady and un- 
relaxed purpose to prostrate the power of the 
English nation, and that he was ruined mainly 
by the false estimate he had formed of the 
patriotic ener^es of the " sttipid Germans," 
18 a matter (now that party hostilities on this 
subject are gradually settling down to sl juste 
milieu) patent to every open eye. 

These two biographical sketches, of Boll- 
mann and Schlabemdorf, are the only ones 
that lead us back to the early period of the 
French revoluticm. Von Ense's own per- 
sonal memoirs do not become in any way 
connected with important political changes 
till the era of the battle of Jena (1806), and 
the battle of Wagram ( 1809). He was bom 


Meumrs rf Vamkagen von Enn. 


in die ywr 1785^ at Daneldait and boailB 
descant fiom an ^' ancient&moos, and noble" 
Amilj of Westphalia. TUa, howeTer, and 
the young days and youthfol fiiendi of the 
inture Pruarian diplomatist, concern us in 
Ensdand little. In Berlin, 1803-1804, and 
in Salle, 1806-1807, while pursuing ostena- 
bly the study of medicine, he came mto con- 
tact and fellowship with many of the most 
celebratied literary characters of that time, and 
of those who have since acquired celebrity. 
The student of Grerman literature will not 
read the part of the autobiography that em- 
braces this era without profit. We can only 
afford to insert one or two notices of indivi- 
duals who, either by chance or merit, have 
acquired a certain firm ground even in Eng- 
lish literature. The following notices of 
William SchlegePs lectures, delivered in 
Berlin during the winter of 1803-1804, will 
be read with interest. 

" August William Schlegel's eesthetical lee- 
mres were of the greatest use to me. He helped 
me to bring some order and connection into the 
heap of unorganized knowledge that I dragged 
about with me, and in reference to my own 
small productions I learned from him to follow 
more confidently the right path, and eschew the 
thousand wrong ones with greater certainty. I 
most confess, however, that even at that time 
we saw plainly that Schlegel was more a man of 
ambitious talent than of great natural genius ; 
and though Nemnann and I were still inclined 
to put confidence in him, the other members of 
our coterie spoke disparagingly even of his best 
efforts, — not a little impertinent as I thought. 
But they were strongly supported by Ficnte, 
who, on one occasion, openly declared that * the 
elder brother voanted depth and the younger dear' 
n«5S, that both were animated by a strongnatred of 
mediocrity, but also by a strong jealousy of such 
high excellence as they could neither attain to 
themseWes, nor gainsay ; in which case they ge- 
nerally out of their despair fell into a stram of 
excessive eulogy, wimess himself and Goethe.' 
Such remarks were anything but welcome to 
me, rev^ding as they did the mward hoUowness 
of those literary relations which I had hitherto 
looked upon as most substantial ; but I was wil- 
ling to believe that the natural severity of 
Fidite's character had here played a trick upon 
himself, or, that at all events, whatever Uberties 
he might take, men of my own standing were 
by no means entitled to assume such a condem- 
natory tone. Fichte was Fichte, and he was 
entitled to certain privileges merely because he 
was Fichte." 

We have always been of opinion that 
Schlegel's lectures, great as their merit un- 
doubtedly was, have been generally over-es- 
timated in this country, for the very obvious 
reason that they supplied a manifest want in 
our critictd literature, and particularly in re- 
spect of the Greek drama soared so high 

above the mere mmmatical and metrical 
pedantries where me school of Porson delimit- 
ed to pry. OurreadersmaycompareGoeme's 
estimate of the Schlegel8,P. Q. R. voL xvL 
As a Ddsseldorf man, Von Ense was natu- 
rally brought into contact with Jacobi, and 
the Pempelfort coterie, cS whom Goethe in 
his campaign cS 1792 speaks not in the most 
complimentary style, as indeed his large and 
catholic spirit was decidedly opposed to all 
sorts of seclusion and self-containment, how- 
ever specious. Our memoir-writer paints 
Jacobi^ personality by no means un&voura- 

^ The noble impression of his beantifol tall 
figure, his features instinct with mild intelleo- 
tiudity, his address pleasandy uigent, his ddi- 
cate and dignified manners, I can never foiget 
He seemed to possess an imposing aristocracy 
of mien compoimded of the sage ami the statea- 
man ; there was however also to be discerned 
by the narrow observer, a certain sensibility on 
occasions which* indicated that he did not al- 
ways or altogether possess that perfect clearness 
of intellect, and penect poise (^ emotioo, whioh 
it was his constant endeavour and instinctiTe 
striving to exhibit His manners indeed were 
so winning and attractive that even his most de- 
cided opponents, as Tieck and Schleiermacher, 
in the nee of their own ripe literary judgments, 
returned from visiting him in Mimich as his 
most devoted admirers." 

At Halle, in 1806-1807, Waa Ense met 
with Wol^ Steffens, Schleiermacher, Von 
Raumer, and other names, some of which 
have since grown (for a decade or two at 
least) to an European reputation. Of Wolf 
he speaks as follows : 

"Frederick Augustus Wolf appeared as a 
king among the leamed of Halle. His tall, com- 
fortable (hehagliche) figure, his dignified calm- 
ness, his enerffy that seemed to move the most 
multifarious details by a simple command, cave 
him the splendour of a dignity which he did not 
seem to require ; for he never assumed any air 
of superionty, but rather, like the great Freder- 
ick, casting aside the trappings of public charac- 
ter, delighted to appear among men merely as a 
man; amid the sportive play of wit and jest 
more triumphantly asserting nis intellectaal su- 
periority, than if he had stood apart in the grand 
attitude ci what he truly was to Halle — a Na- 
poleon. He possessed all the common tools 
aiid materials and appenda^ of pedantry, but 
he had thoroughly spirituuized even the bar- 
renest of them {alles hatte er durchgeistet)^ while 
at the same time his immense knowledge, com- 
municated to others, ^ve their loose roving fan- 
cies a sure basis of historical fact on which to 

And in the following passages, Wolf and 
Sghlbiermacrer and Stbffens are well 
compared and contrasted. 


Memoirs of Vamhagen von Ense, 


" The lectures b^n ; and more diligent and 
more enthusiastic than we were at this period, 
no auditors can be conceired. The course of 
ancient history by Wolf was uncommonly rich 
and also stimulant ; he delivered less a narra- 
tion than a continuous criticism,* and from the 
most cold and indifferent outset, transported his 
hearers by degrees into a state of the most 
energetic mental activity. At the end of the hour 
I rose from the hardest antiquarian investiga- 
tions full of a cheerful flow of feeling, and most 
pleasurable intellectual excitement. My philo- 
logical leaning induced me also to hear Schleier- 
macher*s Exegesis of the Epistles of St. Paul ; 
and my medical intentions were satisfied in the 
meantime by Steffens*s two courses of lectures, 
one on philosophical physiology, the other on 
experimental physics. I had not yet mustered 
resolution enough to attack forooally Reil or 
Kurt Sprengel. From Schleiermacher I soon 
experienced great benefit ; his handling of the 
subject, his sure criticism, his fine dialectic,' 
were profitable to the hearer beyond the mere 
occasion on which they might be displayed ; 
and I had occasion to observe then, how the 
sympathy with clear and orderly intellectual 
energies exercises a powerful influence in sooth- 
ing and regulating the feelings. Steffens, again 
carried his auditors away with him at the first 
sentence. It was impossible to resist the swell 
of profound thoughts, grand combinations, and 
blooming phraseology, that billowed on from his 
eloquent tongue. I transplanted myself with 
ease into his philosophical views and expres- 
sions ; I saw with astonishment the enthusiastic 
teacher hold with firm control amidst his wild- 
est flights the details of so vast a subject ; I re- 
joiced in the amiability of an eloquence that, 
whatever else it might express, alwajrs revealed 
a warm and a pure heart ; and even in the con- 
tinual struggle of the Dane with a language of 
which he was not yet fully master, I discerned a 
secret charm. These lectures were indeed a 
feast continuall V repeated, and yet ever new ; 
they appeared however then only in their full 
value, when they were taken along with 
Schleiermacher^s, and woven with them, as it 
were, into a whole. This calm self-possession 
and that winded enthusiasm supplemented one 
another: ana both teachers being agreed in 
essentials, beheld with pleasure tne singular 
co-action which arose out of this intellectual 
contrast ; for the natural philosophers heard 
Schleiermacher, and the theologians heard 
Steffens. h were well for the two sciences that 
they never were separated." 

One must have studied at a German uni- 
versity thoroughly to sympathize with these 
notices. The university ceuhedrcB are to the 
Germans what the hustings are to us, all life 
and animation, and bold intellectual rivalry. 

Our next extract, written at the same pe- 
riod, has a political interest In the foolish 

* Much in the style of Niebahr'f Roman History, 
wo fiiippoM. It it a style peeuliirly calcnUied to 
dcvclopc the iramcMse erudition and profound criti. 
cal powers of the German scholars. 
VOL. XXVI. 19 

words of a single scholastic individual, the 
temper of the whole Prussian people before 
the battle of Jena is too truly delineated. 

''During the whole summer, rumours of war 
and movements of troops had alternated with 
prospects of peace; but now that Napoleon, by 
the completion of the confederation of the 
Rhine, (aimed manifestly at Prussia,) had 
planted himself firmly in Germany, all hope of 
peace vanished, and whosoever in Prussia had 
a voice, gave that voice vehemently for war. 
Reichardt tried his hand among the rest, and 
published a few war-songs, that smacked rather 
strongly of the Prussian greDadier ; the Austrians 
received a prettv broad hint that had Prussians 
been at Ulm in the previous year nlatters would 
have gone differently. Prussian troops, march- 
ing to the south and west, appeared in and 
around Halle, and fanned by their presence the 
already strong flame of war. Some hot-heads 
went straightway into a passion when peace 
was mentioned even as a possibility, or any 
doubt was thrown upon the assumed superiority 
of the Prussian soldiership. I rememoer well 
walking with Geheimrath Schmalz across the 
market-places, when another professor came up 
to us with the news that war was now finally 
determined on, and that nothing now could save 
the mad Bonaparte from destruction. We 
replied with some observations about French 
generals. ' Generals !' cried he, interrupting us 
vehemently, ' where should they come from ? 
We Prussians have generals that understand 
war, who have known service from their youth ; 
these tailors and shoemakers bevond the Rhine, 
who never knew that they had legs to stand on 
before the Revolution, in presence of our prac- 
tised captains can only take to their heels. I 
pray you, in God's name, speak not to me about 
French Gexerals !' " 

There is not m the whole of history a 
more extraordinary event at first sight than 
the sudden fall of Prussia in 1806. But on 
a nearer examination, it becomes evident 
that the military system of Frederick, in 
itself &r from perfect, had acquired a name 
in Europe more by virtue of his genius than 
by a permanent in-dwelling strength in the 
mass of the people ; under ^ederick William 
II., corruption and vain confidence succeed- 
ed ; necessary reforms were neglected ; and 
it was only me pressure of terrible calamity 
calling into public prominence such men as 
Stein, BlQcher, Schamhorst, Gneisenau, 
that could enable the Prussians to stand up 
again as a great nation in the face of Europe, 
acquitting themselves like men, more than 
they had ever done before, at the Katzhach 
and at Dennewitz, at Leipzig, Ligny and 

In 1808-1809, Von Ense transferred his 
place of study, after the migratory fashion 
common in Germany, to Tubingen. Here he 
made acquaintance with the celebrated poet 


Memoirs of Varnhagtn von Ense. 


Ludwig Ubland, and with another brother of 
the fraternity of Swabian poets, a most sin- 
gular and original being, half-poet, half-mag- 
netist, himself living habitually in a state of 
semi-magnetism. As Justinus Kemer's 
works on Mesmerism have been (more than 
once) noticed in our Englbh periodicals, the 
following curious personal notices with re- 
gard to him may not be unacceptable. 

" KcRNER follows medicine, not from any par- 
ticular preference, bat because it was thrown in 
his way. He has indeed a strange indifference 
towards the external world. Something, he 
says, a man must do for his bread : there is 
drudgery wherever we go ; so it is best to drudge 
at what comes foremost. But vdth all this 
professional indifference he bas been a hard stu- 
dent, and has made great advances in medical 
science. For his thesis, he has chosen the func- 
tion of hearing, and with this view he is mak- 
ing (juite new experiments with animals. He 
lives in his room with dogs, cats, hens, geese, 
owls, squirrels, toads, lizards, mice, and more 
bestial, God knows what, on the most friendly 
footing ; and his only concem seems to be that 
his guests may not take occasion to creep out 
at the door, or flv out at the window ; as for his 
books and his ciothes he lets them be used or 
abused as the animals please ; neither if they 
snarl or howl him out of his sleep, or even bite 
him, does it seem to discompose him in the 
least. His experiments are ingenious and cun- 
ningly devised ; but on all occasions he takes 
special care to avoid anything that may cause 
pain. He lives indeed generally in a state of 
mtimate communion with nature, and knows it 
well, especially on its mysterious side. His 
eyes have something ghost-like igeisterhafi^) 
and piuus ; he possesses the singular power of 
making his heart beat quicker by an act of mere 
volition, but he cannot stop the motion when it 
is once begun ; the observations which Ritter 
recently made on Campetti — the pendulum- 
movement of the ring on the silk thread, and 
other such like magico^magneiical phenomena, 
are exhibited also in his case in remarkable 
force. He himself is decidedly somnambulistic. 
He will sit for a long time musing and dream- 
ing, and then suddenly starting up, laugh heartily 
at the fright he has ffiven the bystanders. He 
bas a most wonderful trick of imitating mad- 
ness ; and though he generally bc^s this in a 
humorous style, one can see that it is a serious 
enough matter, even with himself, before he 
ends. In poetry, the popular romance and bal- 
lad are his natural element — the simple voice 
and rude strens^h of nature ; compositions of 
a higher order of art he tolerates, but he does 
not enjoy ; it is impossible indeed to make him 
speak the language of books ; his familiar 
phrase is caught up from the countrv people. 
He has no well-developed taste for tne plastic 
arts ; in music he has made the Jews^-harp his 
own, and can witch from this strange and im- 
perfect instrument the tenderestand most touch- 
ing tones. Imagine now the simplest and most 
careless apparel, a forward leaning in his car- 

lean on something, or to lay himself down (he 
will on all occasions prefer lying in an awkward 
to sitting in an easy position,) and with all this 
a slim, well made, and by no means ill-look- 
ing young man. So you have a perfect picture 
of my Kemer." 

We add a story of a singular kind. 

** It was deep in winter, and Kemer was sit- 
ting with a friend, an enlightened and sensible 
person. The candle was buminfi;, and a guitar 
lay on the table ; he commenced playing. As 
he was fingering the instrument he felt suddenly 
a feeling of constraintment come over him, 
which quickly increased ; he was in a state to 
himseu undefinable, and such as he had never 
before experienced ; he had neither measure nor 
expression for what he felt; and his condition 
rose to a climax of perplexit)r on his perceiving 
that his friend, who sat beside him, evidently 
over-mastered by a similar emotion, was looking 
in terror over his head. He now felt as if a terri- 
ble weiffht was pressing upon him from above, 
and in the same moment, when the painful feel- 
ing had mounted to a crisis, his friend sprang 
up, and cried out ftill of terror, * Oh, Jesus, Ker- 
iier !' and rushed out of the room. Kemer fell 
down, and lay for a time unconscious, not from 
the fright however, as he expressly asseverates, 
but from the continued action or the exciting 
cause, whatever it might be, within. iSteiger' 
ung seines inneren Zustandes.) When he 
came to himself, he left the chamber hurriedly, 
and walked about for a little in the open air ; 
the clear starry winter-night refreshed him, and 
when he came in again he could quiedy lay 
himself to sleep. Early in the morning he met 
his friend — both were embarrassed; but at 
length his friend, still shuddering at the recol- 
lection, narrated how while Kemer was playing 
on the guitar the preceding evening, suddenly a 
figure appeared to form itself above Kemer*s 
head, and then drew away along the wall. 
Kemer knew only, that as he was playing a 
feeling of anxiety came on him from above ; 
then suddenly he became very cold, and every- 
thing around unusually light and clear. Nei- 
ther of them could find out any external cir- 
cumstance that could have caused this appari- 
tion: when Kemer returned, he found the light 
burnt out, and no closeness in the air. They 
could find no words to express the strangeness 
of the feeling each had experienced. Kemer 
can never tell this story without a most unpleas- 
ant feeling ; and he almost repents that he has 
told it me. The feeling, he says, was so terri- 
ble, that he felt as if instant death or madness 
should have seized him : before the fit, he had 
been verv merry and in excellent spirits; but 
the next^ay he felt himself tmwell, was seized 
by an affection similar to St. Vitus dance, and 
was obliged to continue many days under med- 
ical care. Even now he insists that the whole 
was a matter of bodily disease, and rejects any 
theory of ghosts as applicable to the case; but 
he still persists in the reality of the wonderful 
apparition, and can in nowise talk himself out 
of the belief that such a thing actually was seen.*' 

In our opinion this apparition is one of a 

riage, an uneven gait, a constant inclination to, series of most interesting psychological facts 


Memoirs of VamAagen von Ense. 


which have not yet been sufficiently investi- 
eated by our physiologists and philosophers. 
The facts of Mesmerism, in so &r as they are 
really /octtf, come under the same category. 
We regret that we cannot accompany our 
author to Bayreuth, where he holds a very 
pleasant ttte-^-ttte with Jean Paul Richter in 
1808. As little can we afford to give an 
English echo to his extraordinary praises 
of his Qjctraordinary wife Rahel — a wo- 
man unquestionably of high talent, but 
who, though, like Bettine Berentano, a 
Goethe-worshipper, having had the chance 
to "marry Varnhagen von Ense, instead of 
writing love-letters to Goethe, has not been 
so fortunate in acquiring a literary reputation 
on this side of the channel. It is our duty, 
however, to refer the student of recent Eu- 
ropean history to this Berlin lady : her cor- 
respondence, published at Leipzig in 1836, 
contains letters to and from some of the most 
distinguished public characters of the age 
which is just djring out. The correspon- 
dence with Gentz wUl be found particularly 
interesting. Meanwhile we are pressed by 
more important matter fix)m Vamhagen's own 
portfolio. His account of the famous ball 
given by Prince Schwartzenberg after the 
peace in 1810, will be read with interest by 
those whose memory extends to those times. 
Younger readers will be more pleased with 
the account of Napoleon's court in the same 
year, from which we make a considerable 
extract. After describing the impatience, 
confiision and not very courtly manners of 
the ante-chamber, our author proceeds to 
describe the audience as follows : — 

" At length the momeDt of audience arrived, 
aod on a signal given the whole assembly 
rushed in disorder to the door, crashed and 
squeezed right and left without any ceremony. 
Pages and guards filled the passage and ante- 
chambers ; petty bustling importance was eager 
here also to fix the general eye on itself, and the 
soldiers seemed the only ones in the crowd who 
appeared to know how to perform their part in 
a decent and orderly manner — ^a virme, how- 
ever, which they had learned not at court, but 
from their corporals. 

** After a semi-circle had been formed in the 
hall of audience, and the expectants had ar- 
ranged themselves in several close rows, the 
call of VEmpkreur announced Napoleon, who 
came in from the far end of the room. In 
simple blue uniform, his litde hat under his 
arm, he advanced heavily {gckwerfallig) up to 
us. His manner indicated the inward struggle 
of a mind that wishes to attain an object hy 
means of certain persons whom he is inwardly 
compelled to despise. On this occasion he 
would (kave wished to appear as favourably as 
possible ; but it seemed as if he thought it not 
worth the trouble of the effort; for naturally 
his manner was anything but pleasing. He was 

accordingly in some things too intentional, and 
in some thmss too careless ; in every word and 
gesture resUessness and dissatisfaction were 
visible. He tumed first to the Austrian embassy, 
which occupied the one end of the half-moon. 
The unlucky /tte afforded matter for various 
inquiries and observations. The Emperor evi< 
dently wished to appear sympathetic; he even 
used words of emotion, but in this tone be did not 
succeed at all, and he accordingly dropped it. 
He was much less polite to the Russian ambas- 
sador Eurakin ; and as he went along the circle 
some look or thought must have strangely dis- 
turbed him, for he fell into a terrible fit of ill- 
humour, and let out his passion violently on one 
of the persons present of less note, whose name 
I do not recolieet ; was displeased with every 
answer, rated and threatened, and kept the poor 
mortal for a short season in the most pamful . 
state of suffering. Certain persons who stood 
next to this victim, and were themselves in no 
small apprehension lest the thunder might also 
break before them, assured me afterwards that 
there was no cause whatever for this volcanic 
outbreaking. The Emperor only took the 
nearest object on whom he could safely let out 
his iU-humour ; and that he was accustomed to 
do this even intentionally, that others might be 
kept in due terror and submission. 

** As he passed further on, he sought to speak 
in a more moderate tone ; but it would not do. 
He spoke in short, hasty and abrupt sentences, 
running over the more mdifferent subjects with 
a passionate celerity ; and even when he meant 
to be kind, there was always something of 
an^er in his tone, A more rough, untamed 
voice indeed I have scarcely heard. 

" His eyes were dark-vaulted {dunkel untoolbl), 
fixed straight before him on the floor, and mm- 
'me oidyoack wards quick, and then to the 
individuals whom he successively addressed. 
When he smiled, it was only with the mouth 
and a part of the cheek; forehead and eye 
remained immoveably dark. When he, as I 
once or twice observed, forced his whole coun- 
tenance into a smile, the effect was yet more 
forbidding. The unnatural union of playfulness 
and seriousness had something truly terrible in 
it. I know not what to think of those persons 
who have found grace in the expression of these 
features, and captivating friendliness in these 
manners. However much of plastic beauty his 
countenance might boast, it was hard also and 
severe as marble, fiir from all confidence, of any- 
thing like heartiness incapable. 

" His conversation, when I heard him, was 
commonplace both in matter and manner, with- 
out soul, without wit, without power, nay, even 
•now and then, altogether low and laughable. 
Faber, in his Notices sur VInterieur de la 
France, has discoursed at length on the inter- 
rogatories which Napoleon used to put to so 
many parties, and which have been often so 
unreasonably lauded ; on the occasion of which 
I am now speaking 1 had not yet read the book ; 
but I have since found everything in it con- 
firmatory of my own experience. His question- 
ing frequently resemblea the lesson of a school- 
boy not quite certain of his game, and continually 
repeating to himself what he fears otherwise 


Memoira of Vamhagen von Ense. 


may not be ready for the* moment when it is 
required. This is literally true of a visit which 
Napcdeon, a short time before, had made to the 
great library* on which occasion even when going 
up the staircase he was continually asking for 
the celebrated passage in Josephus where the 
historian speaks of Christ, and appeared to have 
no other omect for his present visit than thus to 
make a display of this scrap of classicality 
which he had just acquired; it seemed quite as 
if he had learned his questions by heart. No 
man was fonder of displaying his knowledge, 
even when it was of the most general and 
superficial kind. He happened to ask a res- 
pectable gentleman from me north of Germany 
to what country he belonged, and when the 
gentleman named a district bordering on Hol- 
land, Napoleon, turning on his heels with an air 
of triumph, interrupted him — ^Ah je sais bien, 
c'est du Nord, c'est de la HoUande V To the 
many French who heard this, the Emperor's 
minute geographical knowledge on this occasion 
would no doubt appear admirable ; those who 
possessed the reqmsite local information might 
not be surprised at the Emperor's ignorance of 
the border districts of North Germany, but 
could not but smile at his ridiculous affectation 
of knowledge. Not so happy was he, however, 
with Lacepede in the museum ; he took the 
giraffe for a bird, and as such praised it to his 
consort, who wiA Lacepede became quite anx- 
ious about Napoleon's blunder; which the 
Emperor observing, broke off the conversation 
roughly, and went away in evident ill-humour. 
The petty zeal with which Napoleon endea- 
voured to shine in the social circle— a sphere 
for which he was altogether unfitted— was on 
occasions perfectly ludicrous ; here he failed in 
every attempt, as in other more serious matters, 
to our deep sorrow, he had uniformly succeeded. 
One cause of his bad success as a conversation- 
alist lay no doubt in the habit he had of saying 
severe and unpleasant things ; but even when 
he wished seriously to make himself ameable, 
he seldom could bring it beyond the tnning and 
insignificant ; and I was myself witness to an 
occasion in St. Cloud, where to a whole row of 
ladies he could say nothing but the same sen- 
tence twenty times over — II fait chaud. 

" It is true that not a few ene^etic phrases 
are current from Napoleon's mouth, and his 
commands are for tne most part short and 
severe; but in these it is more the mi^ht of 
the mind that ^eaks than the speech itself that 
compels attenuon. It is always the Emperor 
who speaks, and in him, not in the orator, lies 
the charm. Several happy ideas, again, that are 
commonly ascribed to him, belong properly to 
other persons, who were too politic to revin- 
dicate the intellectual property which the Em- 
Seror 1^ neatly pocketed. W hen on the other 
and he spoke continuously in greater fulness of 
communication, as he loved to do, and let him- 
self out in an infinity of phrases, heaping facts 
and arguments with the greatest fluency on one 
another, on such occasions one missed very 
much order and continuity, clearness, and pre- 
cision of ideas; at the same time he never lost 
sight of his purpose; but it was not by his 
words so much as by his superiority as a general, 

and by the iron might of his will, that he was 
wont so suT^y to attain that purpose. In these 
latter qualities indeed consists his true great- 
ness ; and there is no necessity for decking him 
out in excellences which he did not posscuss ; as 
the incarnation of victory and the instinct of 
command he remains one of the greatest men 
that ever have been. Alexander, Cssar and 
Frederick possessed the gift of eloquence ; Na- 
poleon could never acquire it; his intellectual 
constitution, and yet more the tone of his feel- 
ings, would not admit of it. 

** This is the true reason why Napoleon was 
so sensitive to all attacks with' the weapons of 
wit ; he was utterly naked here, and could not 
return the thrust ; a clever song or a well-pointed 
lampoon could make him perfectly rabid. At 
that time there was current in Paris a song on 
his new marriage, written in the tone of the 
commonest street ballads, but without doubt 
composed by some of the higher classes. The 
Emperor saw his splendour and his power 
stained by a vulgar rhyme, and snorted revenge ; 
but the police knew as little of the writer as of 
the distributors. I had received a copy by the 
penny-post without name and badly wntten, 
and nad repeated the words so often to my in- 
timate friends that I could now say them bv 
heart Strangely enough, as these things wiu 
happen, at the very moment when the Emperor, 
frowning and out of humour as I have described 
him, was passing the spot where I stood, what 
should come into my head but this same song, 
words and melody in full incarnation to mv 
fancy, and there tne little devil be^n to wort 
so busily thati was on the point of yielding to 
the temptation and hummmg the fatal stave 
audibly, when suddenly, to my great relief, the 
levee broke up, and repeated deep bows from aU 
sides accompanied the departure of Napoleon, 
who had aimed none of his harsh woras but 
cmly a single penetrating look at me, on the 
withdrawal of which however I felt as if I had 
escaped from imminent bodily danger. 

Such is a thorough German account of Na- 
poleon's court. The French of coarse, as 
we all know, b to a different tune : 

'* Tons les coeurs ctaient contens : 
On admirait son cortege ; 
Chacun disait— Quel beau temps! 
Le ciel toujours le protege ; 
Son sourir ^tait bien doux." 

As Beranger sings. Both accounts are true. 
We have said nothing of the battle of Wa- 
gram in 1809, where Vamhagen served m 
the Austrian army, because having been 
wounded on the first day, which was a mere 
overture, his account of the main action is 
necessarily a mere redaction of the statements 
made by the original authorities. With great 
pleasure, on the other hand, do we refer to 
his notices of Baron von Stein, with whom 
he lived seemingly in terms of great intima- 
cy in the year 1811 at Prague, immediately 
previous to that great man's departure for 


Memoirs of Vamhagen von Enae. 


Russia* Wherever hatred to Napoleon and 
hope for Germany was, there was Stein — ^the 
rough and rude, hut fiery, nohle-minded, and 
indefatigable patriot. His peculiar polemical 
fashion of conversation is well described in 
the following passage : — 

'* Stein lived at Prague in a ver^ retired man- 
ner ; for, thouffh he was on the most intimate 
footing with the first families of the place, he 
was accustomed to make claims upon his asso- 
ciates such as very few were in a condition to 
satisfy. Real German honour and finnness were 
indeed with him the first and indispensable re- 
quisites : but he demanded also a certain pdish 
and scientific culture, decision, energy, and, if 
possible, also wit and soul. 1 had no preten- 
sions in myself to be made cne of the select 
few whom ne honoured with his society ; but I 
had travelled about much in Germany, had been 
in Paris, and studied Napoleon ; and these acci- 
dental accomplishments were sufficient to pro- 
cure me admission into the envied circle. He 
received me evidently with purposed friendli- 
ness; but, notwithstanding this, there was 
something abrupt and altogether unceremonious 
in our first meeting. It was indeed easily to be 
read in his whole bearing that he was an enemy 
to all sorts of roundabout. He was without 
pride or pretence of any kind — simple, plain and 
natural. In discourse ne was uncommonly viva- 
cious. We difiered on many points : but every 
doubt on my part only served as a new spur to 
his zeal, ana he did not shun to enter into the 
most extensive details, in order to correct any 
errors into which he thought I had fiillen. When 
he discoursed on Prussian afiairs, and began to 
criticise the conduct of the various public men 
who had distinguished themselves by wisdom or 
folly on the late trying occasions, there was 
something both in his matter and manner that 
on the opposition side of a British parliament 
must have produced a wonderful efiect. When 
his zeal was at full gallop a sort of tremulous 
movement seemed to seize voice and gesture ; he 
Would shut his eyes, and scarcely he able to 
bring out his words articulately. But immedi- 
ately he recovered himself; and with the calm 
self-possession of triumphant intellect, he scanned 
the listener, reading with keen and command- 
ing eye every secret objection in his face, and 
then storming upon hun with new hard and ir- 
resistible onset of truth ! To enter into conver- 
sation with him vras certain batde ; a continual 
danger by some sudden turn to be drawn into 
violent altercation, because it was his pleasure 
to turn every one present in imagination into an 
antagonist; and this without any hostile feeling, 
without personal intention or any permanent 
impression on his own mind. This ^ve to the 
intercourse with Stein a peculiar charm : and 
the irritation which it produced was of a kind 
that sensible men sougnt rather than avoided. 
Even persons in the most elevated social posi- 
tion, (towards whom Stein only tempered his 
usual manner by a slight admixture (^ numour), 
were captivated by his blunt and straightfor- 
ward character. So afterwards the Emperor 

The energetic, boldly practical character 
of this great statesman (if not a statesman 
generally, at least one, and of the best, for 
tiiose stirring times,) is also well caught from 
the account of his favourite characters and 
authors given in the following passage : — 

« ScHAKNHORST and Gncisenau were the men 
of his heart. After them he expressed the high- 
est esteem for Niebtthb, no less as a practical 
statesman than as a profoimd scholar : his his- 
tory of Rome he admired both for its learning 
and its ingenuity; but he had one objection, 
that with these high qualities Niebuhr did not 
write German; but that through his native lan- 
guage, English always peeped, he having spoil- 
ed his style by too exclusive an enthusiasm for 
English literature in his early years. Of Ger- 
man learned men generally he had no very high 
opinion : but he perused and recommended 
Hecren as thorough {grUndlick) and practical, 
and spoke also in the highest terms of Fichte, on 
account of his Rtden an die Deutsche Nation 
(Discourses to the German People.) For the 
philosophers, however, generally, he had small 
toleration, and pronounced the most celebrated 
of the then heads of schools in plain German — 
Mad. Schleiermacher's philosophical religion 
also was beyond his reach (war him zu geis- 
treich,) and in respect of orthodoxy more than 

No wonder that with these sympathies 
Stein assigned the first place in the political 
eloquence of the time to the celebrated 
Amdt: — 

" When the great preparations for the Rus- 
sian war, in 1812, were going on, Stdn remain- 
ed in a state of the most violent excitement. 
Anything like calm consideration with him 
was now out of the question. He had got hold 
of the proof sheets of Amdt's * Spirit of the 
Age.' I called on him one morning, uid straight- 
way he began to read out to me lonff passages 
with increasing enthusiasm, but he seldom made 
out a paffe continuously, so vehemendy was he 
pressed oy the necessity to express his own feel- 
ings. * Since Burke,' cried he, ' nothing of such 
true political eloquence has appeared, nothing 
of such urgent truth. He recommended this 
style to my imitation.' * On this road,' said he, 
* you may expect to write something to the pur- 
pose, the trutn of facts, not metaphysical phrases ! 
Do you understand me, Herr Metaphysicus V " 

These passages are dated 1811-12. In 
May of this latter year Stein received an in- 
vitation from the Emperor Alexander to make 
Us head-quarters St. Petersburg ; and look- 
ing on himself as always a stranger where 
Napoleon was, and always at home where 
his enemies were, he did not long hesitate. 
" Think not my conduct strange," said he to 
a fiiend, " that, like a young man, at my 
time of life I expatriate myself, and enter 
upon a new and unknown career. The mof" 


Songs of the Ukraine- 


who has lost his fatherland is necessarily an 
adventurer. There is no choice : I must seek 
freedom and fatherland at the end of the 

his fingers; and there is no question that 
such a roan could not live in the capital of 
the Czar without exercising a most important 
influence on the mind of Alexander, and 
through him aflTecting the whole character of 
the war. It is well known that in the spring 
of 1813, Kutusoff and a strong party with 
him, having driven the French across the 
Vistula, were unwilling to change a defensive 
jMitriotic war into a war of aggression against 
France. Had this narrow policy prei^ed. 
Napoleon certainly never could have been 
beaten by the Prussians alone, or even by the 
Prussians and Austrians combined. Among 
those whose burning hate against Napoleon 
contributed to the adopticm of that more libe- 
ral policy, which found a glorious issue in 
the battle of Leipzig, Stein deserves to be 
named the first. 

Our limits forbid us to accompany Von 
Ense through the German-Danish campaign 
of 1813, and the French campaign of 1814 ; 
in both of which he served under the famous 
Ck)ssack cajptain. Colonel Tettenbom. His 
notes on this part of his career are a valuable 
addition to the history of the time. We can- 
not say, however, that we are much pleased 
with his portrait of Tettenbom. We cannot 
believe that he has shown us the whole man. 
The picture is as neat, pretty and smooth as 
one of Felix Neff 's Cathedrals. It is impos- 
sible to paint a Tettenbom or a Bliicher to 
any purpose in the cabinet or fency style 
which Vamhagen affects.* 

We have already expressed our general 
dissatisfaction with the account of the Con- 
gress of Vienna, given in the first volume of 
the new series of these memoirs. It is alto- 
gether uninspired by those bold and familiar 
glances into character that pierce through the 
specious proprieties of high life, and l^hind 
the stage-dress of the court and the cabinet 
teach us to measure and value the man. 
Tme enough it is, indeed, that diplomatists, 
like comedians, lawyers, and other acton of 
all kinds, behind the public mask, have often 
no private character to show ; but this occurs 
only with the narrower class of minds. At 
Vienna, in 1814-15, there were subjects 

enouffh for the bold brush of a Rubens — had 
Vanmagen not been a paper-curler. 

Shoidd the volumes that follow of this 
work possess any peculiar interest, we shall 
not fail to acquaint our readers. For oui^ 
selves we expect but little. The nearer he 
approaches tne present, the more will Von 
Ense's courtly soul be anxious to finger and 
carve down we great broad troths of nature 
into a mere ^cabinet catalogue of diploHoatic 
decencies. We expect mdre fit)m the me- 
moirs of Amdt and Steffens which have just 
been published. Amdt at least is a man of 
muscle : and when he speaks at all will speak 
out — ^if he can. Whether he can or cannot 
in any particular case depends upon the cen- 

• Von Enj«o has written a life of BlOchcr. The 
prcaent writer has not ecrn it. It is certain, how- 
ever, that vuch a work, to be written well, Hiinuld 
be written by Amdt, or a man of that calibre. 

Art. II. — Piesni Ukrainskie^ wydane przez 
P. Maxymowicza, w Moskwie, 1834. 
(Sonss of Ukraine, published by Maxy- 
mowicz, at Moscow, 1834.) 

DuEiNG that period of the middle ages 
when the west and the south of Europe were 
studded with Gothic castles, and when 
Rhodes and Malta were the asylum of the 
military religious orders — ^the scanty wrecks 
of the great armies that had marched into 
Palestine — ^it was not so much as surmised 
that, behind the rampart which Poland op- 
posed to the barbarians of the East, there ex- 
isted a powerM confederacy of warlike men, 
who, occupied incessantly in the pursuit of 
arms, lived only by war and for war. By a 
strange fetality, these men, though tiiey strug- 
gled in a sacred cause — in the defence of 
Qieir religion, nationality, and homes — gained 
ultimately, however, only a name of opprobri- 
um, that of Cossacks, equivalent, in the opi- 
nion of civilized nations, to that of robbers and 
savages. Notwithstanding their name of re- 
proach, the history of these men occupies an 
unportant place in the annals of south-eastern 
Europe. The military system of the East, 
like a mighty tree, soon overspread with its 
branches the Dnieper, the D>on, the Black 
Sea, the Sea of AzoflT, the Volga, the Yaik, 
the Caucasus, and the Ural. Numerous and 
wide-spreading as were these branches, they 
must nevertheless be viewed only as forming 
a perfect whole, springing from the same 
stem, and animated by one and the same prin- 
ciple of vitality. 

Few subjects of historical investigation 
have had the ill luck to be worse compre- 
hended than the Cossacks; and yet tiiey 
have been written of, and commented upon, 
by authors of all the nations of Europe. The 


Songs of the Ukraine. 


cause of this seeming anomaly will be iound 
on the one part in the ignorance of the Scla- 
vonic language which prevails universally 
amongst these authors, and on the other, in 
the multifarious incorrect reports circulated 
by travellers, the great majority of whom 
seem to have adopted as their rallying word, 
" whatever differs from our own customs, is 
bad." Add to these, the national jealousy 
with which the Cossacks have ever been re- 
rarded by their neighbours. Who those 
Cossacks were, who, after having entirely 
lost their independence and their freedom, 
have yet bequeathed to posterity the inde- 
structible maiks of nationality, their original 
customs and manners, and their poetry, is a 
question therefore that yet remains to be 
solved. Our present purpose being to say 
somewhat on the latter subject, we cannot do 
so satis&ctorily to our readers without first 
endeavouring to give a sketch of the early 
history of this remarkable race. We shall, 
however, refrain from entering upon etymo- 
logical and other learned disquisitions as to 
the original signification of the name " Cos- 
sack,*" and proceed at once to relate some 
facts connected with their histoiy, taking as 
our guides, two able writers, a Russian and a 
Pole, whom we rejoice to find meeting, on 
this ground at least, in the character of 

The vast steppe extending between the 
Lower Don and Uie Lower Dnieper had been 
fit)m the remotest antiquity traversed by many 
a nomadic people. The tracts where the 
Scythian once wandered, were successively 
occupied by the Samaritan, the Ostrogoth, 
the rolovtzy ; there the Tatar and the Cos- 
sack subsequently tended his flock, or sallied 
forth from thence on his plundering expedi- 
tions. So late even as the sixteenth century, 
travelling was as unsafe in those reaons as it 
is our days in the country of the bedouins. 
During the ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth 
centuries, whilst the duchies of Southern 
Russia were in a flourishing condition, her 
boundaries on the left bank of the Dnieper 
did not extend beyond the river Sula ; and 
the city of Kamow formed her bulwark 
against the Chosars, the Pietchingues, the 
Polovtzy, the occupants of the above-named 
steppe, who were incessantly fighting either 
for or against Russia, or amongst themselves. 

Let the reader constantly bear in mind the 
internal condition of Southern Russia, the 
only country at that period permanently in- 

* PoIewoy*B History of the Ranian Empire ; 
Gnorowiki*! Inmirrection of *Poltnd in 1830—31. 
We should also advise our readers to peruse the 
Article on Selayonian Antiquities in the last num. 
bcr of !hi» Review. 

habited, which was situated in the immediate 
vicinity of the roaming savages of the steppe. 
The various small duchies of Russia were 
studded with grody — small boroughs protect- 
ed by walls, — ^in which were the locations of 
the dukes themselves or their lieutenants. In 
the midst of these grod, small villages lay 
thinly scattered, which bore the name of 
grodek, and in these the bulk of the people 
lived, or rather sheltered themselves on the 
approach of a foreign enemy or one of the 
native dukes carrying on war against another. 
The want of such places of refuge was daily 
felt more and more. The villager on his re- 
turn home from the grod, usually found only 
a heap of ruins where he had left his hut ; 
he built another, and was again compelled to 
desert it for the grod. Consequently, no 
where except in the grod^ did there exist 
security for life, peace, for the finits of la- 
bour, or for any kmd of liberty. The chief 
of tiiese grod were Kiow, Czernichow, 
Pereaslaw, Belgrad, &c. 

To fill up the measure of distress came the 
great invasion of the Tatars. That which 
had formerly been of one or two years' dura- 
tion, now lasted for a century. For more 
than that period the sword of the Asiatic rob- 
bers was suspended over the necks of the 
wretched people who could not look forward 
with hope even for a single day. No respite 
was granted them, no peace long enough to 
allow of their leaving the grod, and building 
huts which they might inhabit at least for a 
year whilst they should gather in some of 
the fruits of the earth. We can give no bet- 
ter picture of ^ese scenes of devastation and 
woe, "made visible by the palpable dark- 
ness," than that drawn by Gnorowski in the 
work to which we have already alluded. 

'* Amidst tombs, which, rising like mouotains, 
marked the bloody passage of the multitudinous 
nations, whose names, as Chateaubriand says, 
are known only to God ; amids walls raised by 
unknown hands, and cemeteries whitening with 
the bones ofVarangian Russians, of the Polovtzy, 
Hungarians, Lithuanians, and Poles, the Tatar 
still discerned the several tracks along which he 
carried desolation from his maritime steppes to 
the flourishing abodes. One of these tracks led 
firom Oczakoff through Podolia ; another follow- 
ed the ri^ht bank of the Dnieper, and passed 
through the plains of the Ukraina to Volhynia ; 
a third proceeded from Valachia into Galicia 
and all met at Lemberg. Flights of rapacious 
birds arriving from the south, announced the ap- 
proaching scourge, and the true omen was 
quickl^r confirmed by the glowing sky that red- 
dened in the glare of burning villages. The bar- 
barian hordes in their sudden attacks, overpow- 
ered the inhabitants and seized the fruits of their 
toil before the warlike proprietors of the adjacent 
castles could descend to tnoir defence. Prompt 


Songs of the Ukraine. 


in aggression, prompter still in flight, they drag- 
ged into infamous captiWty the youth of both 
sexes, driving off the nerds, and leaving behind 
them (xdy heaps of ashes and the corpses of the 
aged. Notwithstanding this immense havoc, 
the population still renewed itself upon that 
beautiful soil, ' cut up,' as says a Sclavonian 
poet, ' by the tramp ot horses, fertiUzed by hu- 
man blood, and white with bones, where sorrow 
Sew abundantly,'— and that population, like 
e soil, never ceased to be Sclavonian.' 

In the breasts of men thus circumstanced 
the desire naturally arises rather to go forth 
and meet sword in hand the threatening dan- 
ger, than to await its coming in inactive ter- 
ror. Such was the case in Southern Russia, 
where during the oppression of the Tatars, 
two classes of men, or rather two kinds of 
existence arose, the one, — if the expression 
may be allowed, — grod-like ; the other, cos- 
sack-like. In the north of Russia, where the 
independence of the various states, though 
greatly shaken, was not yet destroyed, the 
grod-like frame remained as before. But in 
the south, where the dukes, their lieutenants 
(boyars), and companions, had been nearly 
exterminated by the sword ; where the power 
of the Church had been annihilated, and the 
Tatars had a fixed abode ; where the grod 

were either reduced to ashes, or, despoiled of i sequently increased by the arrival of advenm- 
walls, stood defenceless with their terror- ! rers, guided by necessity or pleasure; by de- 
stricken population in the midst of wild de- 1 ^"«I? ^'^°'?.^^^ Lithuanian, Pol wh, Hungarian 

serts;-t£ere the cossack-like existence mani- t^J^^tZ ^^^^JSf'r^^Jj'^l 
/• _^ J -x ir • -x A ± . ^ bondage, or Dy tne poor escapmg irom the op- 

fested itself m its utmost extent. | pression of the rich ; sometimes also by crim- 

This mode of existence, therefore, signi- j mals flying from merited punishment The 
fled in fact the condition of a wanderer bereft j motley community was at first held together by 
of his home, and separated from his penates. | a rule enforcing celibacy, fishing and hard la- 
It was the very reverse of the grod-like ex- ^^^^' Gradually they ventured upon secret ex- 
istence ; and its origin may be dated from P'^^"^ ^ >^« neighbouring countries, which 

as places of refuge for the Aleves ; these 
two comers were, in &ct, the cradle of the 
Cossacks ; those of the Don, and those of the 
Ukraine or Zaporogues (the dwellers beyond 
the Islands). 

The fugitives, however, from the Rusnan 
duchies, which were subjugated by the Ta- 
tars, wbolst seeking a shelter in these seques- 
tered places, found them already occupied. 
These original settlers were partly the wrecks 
of nomadic tribes driven from the steppe by 
the Asiatic invaders, and partly furitives fiom 
the Caucasus, whitiier also the Tatars had 
penetrated. Their numbers had subsequently 
been increased by individuals who had es- 
caped fix>m captivity amongst the Tatars and 
Lithuanians. In reference to this subject we 
again quote Gnorowski's words : 

" About sixty miles below Kiow, the Dnieper 
forms a variety of isles, upwards of seventy in 
number. The banks of the river, here fringed 
with wood, there steep and marshy — the deep 
caverns in the rocky islands, concealed by spread- 
ing trees or tangled thom-bushes, affeted a fii- 
vorable place of refuge, whilst the open country 
lay exposed to the barbarians. At tne epoch of 
the firet general invasion of the Tatars, and 
again during the Lithuanian war, many persons 
found shelter there, and their number was sub- 

the mid^e of the thirteenth century. 

But where could these fugitives seek refuge 
from the bondage of the Tatars 1 With the 
exception of the district on the right bank of 
the Dnieper, the whole of the vast steppe 
between that river and the Don was overrun 
by the latter. The city of Kaniow, the for- 
mer bulwark of Russia, had now become the 
advanced post of the Tatars, and this con- 
stantly recurring destination of Kaniow sug- 
gested a beautiful line to a Polish poet — 

** To limiu wild her hardy breast waa guard.*'* 

A century later, Olgerd, Grand Duke of 
Lithuania, drove the Tatars from the bank of 
the Dnieper. In consequence of his con- 
quest, only two comers of land at the south- 
em extremity beyond the Don, by the Sea of 
Azoff, and beyond the porogues or islands of 
the Dnieper towards the Black Sea, remained 

* " The Caatle of Kaniow," a poem by Goazcsyna- 
ki, haa been reviewed in a former number of tbii 

by degrees they extended into daring expeditions 
down the Dnieper, and along the Black Sea as 
far as the very viralls of Constantinople. In 
more peaceable times they condescended to in- 
habit the plains, there to cultivate the soil, and 
enjoy domestic comfort in the bosom of their 

This coUuvies gentium consolidated into 
one body, although, owing to local causes, 
the two races predominated respectively 
more or less in certain districts. Thus, 
amongst the fugitives of the Don, the Asiatic 
element prevailed; amongst those of the 
Dnieper, more of the Sclavonian blood was 
infused. Thence originated a difference in 
language, character, and customs ; both, how- 
ever, generally adopted the Russian language, 
and the creed of the Eastern Church. The 
cause of this is obvious. The Russian fugi- 
tives bom in the grand duchy of Kiow were 
superior in intellectual acquirements to their 
companions of other origin, and the Christian 
fietith was with them a pledge of enmity to- 


Songs of the Ukraine. 


wards their Mussulman oppressors. A higher 
de^ee of civilisatioQ and a more ardent &th 
nltinurtely prevailed. They all assamed the 
name of Cossacks, which meant, and does so 
still in the East, an independent warrior. 

The primitive condition commcm to them 
all at the time of their first settling, has been 
thus sketched by the pen of an anonymous 
author, himself bom on the banks of the 

'< From the mouth of the Aksaya up to the 
fovemmeat of VoroDei^ in the depth of forests, 
u the midst of inaccessible marshes, were scat- 
tered small fortified spots, the only colonies of 
the Cossacks, called grodtisko. In these, com- 
posed of a few huts built of clay, the Cossacks 
led cpiite a life of passage, being only miadful to 
provide shelter of some kind or other from bad 
weather. * Let the flame of invasion,' said they, 
* consume our huts; in a week we shall plant 
new hedees : fill them up with earth, cover their 
tops with reeds, aod a grodzisko shall arise. 
Sooner will the foe be wearied with the de- 
struction of our wretched abodes than we with 
their erection.*" 

The necessity for flight in order to re- 
serve life was the source of Cossackism. The 
wiflhed-ibr security once obtained, a desire 
for vengeance on the ibe arose toge&er with 
a consciotisness of absolute independence. 
Independence, booty, increase of power, and 
a permanent settlement, taught Uie former 
fugitives to value the charms of Cossack ex- 
istence. The wretched dave, who once 
trembled before the whip or the sword of the 
Tatar, insulted and degnded, now a warrior, 
a sword in his hand, and mounted on a swift 
charger, fi'ee as the wind c^ the steppe, feimed 
in nog, and on an equality with his compa- 
nions, cheridied with his whole heart his Cos- 
sack-like condition. A beautiful captive be- 
came his wife, the richest stufils his attire, and 
the foe's best weapons his arms. Genera- 
tions grew up amid the clashing of swords 
and the roar of battle. Singing the song of 
his native wilds, the Cossack was wont to 
leave his home on a cruise to Azoff*, Trape- 
SQod, Synope, Constantinople, &c., to get 
himself a new coat ; dying on the field of 
battle ne kissed the handfiil of that native soil 
which he had borne on his breast, and sent a 
parting report to his wife, and Ms benedic- 
tion to his children and chosen ooinpanions ; 
or returning victorious, he distributed hb tro- 
phies, feasted, and took no care for the mor- 
row. His child was accustomed to play with 
the sword, and his wife fbusht with him 
against the invaders of the grcdzieko. 

*' Thou writest to us,'' so replied the Ataman 
(supreme chief) of the Cossacks to the Chan 
Oirey of Crimea, " thou writest to us, Chan 

VOL. XXVT. 20 

Girey, that if what we have seized beyond Pe- 
recop and elsewhere, we do not give back, thou 
wilt march at once with thy people, and invade 
our thirtv-two erodzisko^ and will grant us nd 
peace eitner in the sprins^ or the summer, or the 
autumn or the winter ; but that thou wilt comer 
thyself with a multitude of thy men in the win*^ 
ter upon the ice, to destroy oUr grodzisko : wdl, 
we acquaint thee that our unprofitable grodzis* 
kos are hemmed round by hedges, are bristly 
with thorns, and must be purchased at the pri^ 
of heads ; besides our stock of hors^ and citttle is 
scanty. It were pity therefore for thee to trou- 
ble thyself so far !'* 

Such was the existence and such the spif- 
rit of the Cossacks. As has been already ob- 
served, they may be considered as form- 
ing two principal bodies; the Cossacks of 
the Don and those of the Dniepler. Frotii the 
first were derived various branches of eiSf- 
em Cossacks ; from the second sprung the 
people of Litde Russia or (he Ukrame. Tbe^ 
former were a mixed race of Russians, Ta- 
tars, Circassians, and Kalmvks; the lattet' 
were composed of Russians, Polottzy, Turfa!, 
Moldavians, Poles, and Lithuanians. Th^" 
difierence of these compounding' element^ 
created corresponding variations in the cha- 
racter, language, and general ctvilisatioU of 
each respective body. The Zaporogue Corf-' 
sacks were the nucleus of the Cossacks ctfhi 
Ukraine. Their Sicza, or chief commaAdb^^ 
ry, transferred for a time to the banks of th)^ 
Dnieper, was first established in the' island of 
Hortyca, and from this nest the grodztsW 
were gradually multiplied along that rivek^; 
Their permanent settlement induced the 
abandonment of celibacy, and the femdlt^*' 
captives became the wives of the Cossack^. 
Still no married Cossack was allowed to SeV 
tie in the sicza unless he left his wife behind 
him in the grodzisko. From this ciitttUl- 
stance originated the division of the Cossackat 
into married and unmarried; the foriiier 
being called Cossacks of Ukraine, the latter 
Zaporogues. The Cossacks of Ukraine gr^-' 
dually extended northwards, making sefthi^ 
ments in devastated places, or in such as had 
never before been innabited, and in progress 
of time multiplied into a numerous people, 
known at the present day as the inhabitants 
of Little Russia. The Zaporogues never 
abandoned their primitive seat, and as the^ 
were originally tne nucleus, so they have' 
hitherto remained the prototypes of the Co^' 
sacks of the Dnieper. 

The Swiss historian Moller thus roeabf tf 
the Zaporogues about the middle of the laM: 

" The Sicza was a heap of houses and h«t% 
surrounded by a wall of earth. There every:- 
thing was in common. When anew year came, 


Songi of the Ukraine, 


the ataman of the Zaporogaes used to put to them 
these questions : ' My brave fellows, you must 
cast lots as to where each division is to Qsh. 
Perhaps you may like to choose anew ataman ?' 
* No/ replied they. *■ thou art good ; command 
one more year, and let us cast lots.* But if a 
different answer was given, the ataman took off 
his cap, placed it upon the ataman's staff, and 
bowed to the people, saying, *Now I am your 
brother, a private Cossack? 'i'he people then 
met, feasted, elected a new ataman, led him 
into their assembly, and after the interrogation 
whether he accepted the office, they handed to 
him the staff, put earth on their heads, and sa- 
luted him their chief. A Cossack who should 
murder another was put alive into a grave ; a 
coffin, with the corpse, was put upon him, and 
the grave was then filled up with earth." 

Savage grandeur of mind was a prominent 
feature m their character, associated with an 
absolute contempt for riches, produced no 
doubt by the precariousness of their existence, 
which they were daily liable to be called 
upon to risk for their freedom. The follow- 
ing is an instance of their wild humour, an 
accompaniment, it is said, of true genius. 
The people of Ukraine can still remember 
the time when the Cossack, wishing to enjoy 
a frolic at a Mr, would hire singers, go round 
with them to every shop, entertaining whom- 
soever he met, and scattering money amongst 
the crowd in order to cause a scuffle. Then 
to complete the jest, he would seat himself in 
his rich crimson dress upon a cask of tar, to 
ahow his contempt for nches, and finally put 
on his old sheep-skin and return gaily home. 

Both the Zaporogues and the Little Rus- 
sians became the subjects of Poland in the 
beginning of the fourteenth century. For 
upwards of two hundred years they formed 
the bulwark of that country and of Christen- 
dom against the Muscovite, the Tatar, and 
the Turk. During the two succeeding cen- 
turies they struggle to regain their independ- 
ence, but fisdled in all their efforts. Their re- 
volt, which occupies one of the most sanguin- 
ary chapters in the annals of Poland, was ex- 
cited by three domestic pests, the Jesuits, 
the Jews, and the stewards of the great land 
proprietors, who were always absentees. Me- 
naced in their religion by the first, injured in 
their mercantile pursuits by the second, and 
oppressed by the third witnout being able to 
obtain any justice by their appeals to higher 
authority, tney rose in de^>air, and massa- 
cred the three orders of their tyrants. Em- 
boldened by this first success, and by the en- 
couragement they received from Musco- 
vy, Tatary and Turkey, they now demand- 
ed that the privileges of the Polish nobility, 
namely, that of taking part in the election of 
the kings, and of having seats in the senate, I 

should be individually bestowed upon them 


The proud Polish nobles, who had refiised 
to admit into their order the Dukes of Prus- 
sia and of Courland, as well as the Hospodars 
of Moldavia and Valachia, drew their swards 
in answer to the exorbitant pretensions of 
the Cossacks. The flames of war raged for 
more than a hundred years, and it was not 
until both parties were exhausted that they 
became reconciled to each other, only to be 
involved in one common misfi)rtune by the 
partition of Poland. It is impossible to 
sketch here the history of the Ukraine, so in- 
teresting in every point of view ; but our 
readers may easily conceive that an infinite 
variety of characters and richneas of colour 
must be its distinguishing features. Liet them 
but recollect the concluding chapters of the 
histcxy of ancient Russia, and think of the 
savage warriors of Gengiskan pitching their 
tents under the walls of the majestic temples 
of Kiow, while the desponding fugitives 
gathered on the islands of the Dnieper, amidst 
marshes covered with impenetrable thickets^ 
and surrounded by caverns and glas^ lakes. 
Again, let them call to mind their bold navi- 
gation, daring even to madness; their ad- 
venturous expeditions both on land and water, 
guided only by the flight of birds, the cur- 
rent of winds, and the aspect of the stan ; let 
them figure to themselves the appearance on 
the banJcB of the Dnieper of the Lithuanian 
Dukes Olgerd and Vitold, in caps of wolf-sldn, 
and clothed in the fur of bears, armed with 
bundles of arrows and monster guns ; and 
then let them contemplate the growing con- 
nection of the Cossacks with Lithuania and 
Poland, and their subsequent civilisation; 
their settlements on both banks of the Dnie* 
per, the appearance of their new enemies the 
Tatars of the Crimea, the separation ci the 
Zaporogues and their cruel supremacy over 
the Ukrsdne, their long series of &mous chiefii 
fitMn Ostafieff Daszkowicz down to the great 
Chmieluicki and the mjrsterious old Mazeppa ; 
the singular education of the clergy of Kiow 
under rolish influence ; the somethmg at once 
chivalrous and pedantic in the aristocracy of 
Little Russia; the savage Lithuano-Asiatic 
tinge in the character of the people, this 
motley compound of Asia and Europe, of 
nomadic and settled life, of servility and in- 
dependence, of weakness and energy; and 
finally the contemporaneous political inter- 
course of Poland with Muscovy, Turkey and 
the Crimea. From such elements arise the 
colouring and composition of this most singu- 
lar of historical groups. 

The five centuries, during which this 
drama was acted, passed rapidly away, but 


Songs of the Ukraine, 


not so the remaricable people who to this day 
still retain their oririnal nationality. M. 
Polewoy has beautifliuy painted the peculiar 
physiognomy of the Ukraine and her inhabit- 
ant . 

" Under a pore and serene sky," says he, " are 
spread oat the boundless steppes of tlkiaina, of 
which it was long a^ said, * In this Ukraina 
the sky is extnu)rdinarilv tranquil, and bad 
weather is never seen nor neard of there.' One 
who has been accustomed to see the gloomy fo- 
rests, the dark sky, the sands and marshes of 
the north, cannot picture to himself the bound- 
less fields waving with com, the Tallies strewed 
with the fresh down of blooming vegetation, the 
meadows where luxuriant grass conceals from 
the eye the waters of the river and the stream. 
Even the habitations of the people in Great Rus- 
sia will fail to convey an idea of the cottages in 
Ukraina, whicli are built of curved trees covered 
with white*washed clay, and have for floors the 
earth itself well beaten down, instead of a wood- 
ea pavement. The dirty peasant of Great Rus- 
sia with his long tangled hair reminds you of 
the Tatar rule, and the villager of the north 
shows his pure Sclavonian blood in his clear 
blue eyes and Ii£^h thrown hair, a true son of the 
snow, friendlv. Kind, and hospitable ; and how 
much do both these differ from those plastic 
eoontenanees (figures de bas relief) which you 
meet in Little Russia. In the thooghtful and 
serious countenance of the man, in his tall frame, 
his half-shaven head, long moustaches, in his 
secretly working soul, his gloomy look, abrupt 
speech, you will discover 3ie ancient Russian 
mixed with the savage Asiatic. His dress at 
the same time bears marks of the Lithuanian 
and Polish rule of four centuries' duration. The 
Ukrainian is slow, tacimra, difficult of speech, 
does not bow himself as does the native of Great 
Russia, does not promise much, but is shrewd 
and intelligent, and respects the word both ^ven 
and receivM. Whilst the one lives entirely m the 
present, the other lives all in the past. Would 
you gain the friendship of the Ukrainian, be not 
pressing, for he is suspicions ; but rather take 
part in his Cossack-like existence, for he is proud 
of the events of past times. Remind him of 
these, let him see that >[ou admire his ancestors, 
and his countenance will brighten, his vivacity 
will be called forth, his heart will beat stronsrer ; 
then you may converse with him enoii^h. You 
will be admitted into the sanctuary of his joys 
and sorrows, you will at length hear his song of 
the steppe, and be astonished at the cheerful- 
ness of his disposition." 

These songs still resound on both banks of 
the Dnieper, though ages must have rolled 
away before any heed was given to them. 
They were distasteful to the Poles, for these 
songs were wet with their blood, and the 
Russians have only of late begun to tedce in- 
terest in letters. It was not tiU after the pas- 
sions which had so long divided the Ukrain- 
ians and the Poles had been quenched in the 
blood of several generations, that the latter 

turned with sympathy to their former suIk 
jects, and to Uiis sympathy, the offspring of 
their common misfortune, the people of Uk- 
raine will be indebted for the preservation of 
their history and literatiu^, the two strong- 
holds of their crushed nationality. Lacn 
Szyrroa was the first Pole who drew the at- 
tention of the public to these subjects, by 
printing two songs of the Ukraine, in a pe- 
riodical edited at Vihio in 1824. The Rus- 
sian Prince Certeleff followed his example, 
and collected and published several others. 
Some time afterwards a large collection of 
Polish and Russian popular songs was printed 
at Lemberg, with then: respective melodies, 
arranged by the celebrated composer Lipinsld. 
A still richer contribution was expected fix>m 
Chodakowski, a Pole who devoted his life 
and fortune to the subject His premature 
death cut short these hopes, but the songs 
collected by him fortunately fell into the 
hands of JVL Maxymowicz, who, assisted by 
some Russians, at length effected the publica- 
tion of nearly three thousand songs of the 
Ukraine, at Moscow, in 1834. These songs, 
some of which might more properly be called 
epic poems, if skilfuUv arranged in proper 
order, joined to an ancient poem on tne ex- 
pedition of Igor, a Russian Duke, the work 
of an unknown author, might fairly take 
place by the side of the Niebelungen, if not 
indeed by that of the Bias itself. 

We do not enter upon our task of deliver- 
ing a critical opinion of these songs, without 
feeling, in some degree, perplexed ; since cer- 
tainly none of the rules laid down by Aristo- 
tle can be applied to them, and yet it is no 
less certain that they must be admitted with- 
in the domain of poetry. In this dilemma, 
without pausing to discover where lies the 
fallacy, we will merely ask, what, in* &ct, is 
poetry 1 Volumes have been written on this 
subject, but they have not, in our humble 
opinion, given any satis&ctory answer to the 
question. It has been affirmed, and even 
poets of great merit have held the opinion, 
that expression and rhythm constitute the es- 
sence of poetry -, whilst others have shown 
that it may exist without either measure or 
rhyme. Byron has pronounced that every 
poet must be his own Aristotle, and thus it 
appears that no advance has yet been made 
towards the solution of the problem. It 
would seem that poets are still liable to the 
charge brought against them by Socrates, of 
being unconscious of what they utter. We 
are then reduced to say merely, that poetry 
is not prose. And what then is prose 1 Prose 
is altogether of the earth, transient, mortal : 
poetry, on the other hand, is everything that 
is of heaven, perennial, immortal, that which 


Songs of tkt Ukrauu. 


f9^l^ V^ even here, in thiA planet of our 
wiii^ the aport of time and ^pace, to live yet 
j|i eternity. The djmamical, not mechanical, 
junagining of this perennial, is a poetic com- 
pontioD. If we snould be required further 
|o demonstrate the utility of poetry, we would 
Sf^y that she follows in the footsteps of reli- 
gion, her divine prototype, and carries peace 
into the hearts of men. In this opinion we 
are supported by the authority of " the mas- 
ter" Goethe, the poet of our age, whom So- 
prates would not have included in the gene- 
ral pensure just alluded to. 

•• True poetry," says Groethe, " manifests itself 
in that like a secular gospel, by its internal sere- 
nity, by its external ease, it is able to deliver us 
fix>m the earthly burthens which press upon us. 
like an air balloon it raises us with the ballast 
which clings to us, into higher re^ons, and 
makes tbe most intricate mazes of earth lie un- 
ravelled before us in a bird's eye view. The 
most cheerful, as well as the most serious works, 
have a similar aim, that of moderating, by a 
happy and ingenious representation, both plea- 
tare and grief"* 

We therefore believe the elements of poe- 
try to be dynamics, feeling, and thought; 
which, by combinaticHi, produce only two 
lands of poetry : the one compounded of dy- 
namics and feeling ; the other, of dynamics, 
feeling, and thou^t. The first, liable to the 
reproach of Socrates, is a secondary order of 
poetry ; the second is perfect, and may be 
likened to a plant that brings forth not only 
leaves and blossoms, but aJso fixiit. Byron, 
no doubt, meant the former, when he affirm- 
ed that feeling makes a poet ; it is poetry, 
but, as we have already said, poetry of an in- 
ferior kind, and is to be found in aU nations 
during the second period of their existence, 
that of their youtn. Goethe well defined 
this state of roan in his tragedy of Iphigenia, 
when he made her say : " i do not think, I 
feel." It is hardly necessary to observe, that 
we here use the word feelings to express 
that un-reflective, self-unconscious thought, 
which, in special reference to poetry, may be 
called inspiration, the seeing of visions. 
Amongst aU nations this second stage in their 
existence is usually a period redundant in 
symbols — a period of religious, poetic and 
moral roythos. Man then holds direct con- 
verse with nature ; he is embosomed in her 
— initiated into her secrets ; all objects reveal 
to him their mysterious virtues; and from 
them all he extracts *' emotions sweet, beau- 
tiful, and true.'' It is then that the cuckoo 
bewails the death of the Ukrainian in the ah. 

* Autobiography of Goethe. — Diohtung iind 
Wf^rhelt (Ficuon and troth). 

aence of his mother and sister, or fbcewaniB 
him of approaching danger. The ^' brother 
eagle" receives his last breath, and carries his 
parting report to his familv. Ravens, hawks, 
magpies, laiks, and even the winds, all join in 
chorus to mourn over a fallen warrior. The 
sun does not refuse to send down rays, nor 
the air, quickening dew on his tomb, that it 
may not blacken, nor wither, but that the 
grass may grow ever green around it The 
milk which mingled m the sweet blood on 
the cheek of the innocent maiden, is curdled 
by a witch, when she becomes guilty, and the 
blood is sucked by a vampire. The forsaken 
one ploughs the field with her thoughts, and 
waters it with regrets. Bright IMiliks (a 
kind of angelic beings) encircled with rosy 
light, and sailing on a white cloud, bring 
down comfort in an hour of misfortime ! 

The variety, however, of such images be- 
ing limited to palpable objects, cannot, of 
necessity, be very great, and a poetry <^ this 
kind can only reach a certain point, beyond 
which does not commence a perfect harmony 
of the spheres, but only a monotony. Such 
is the case with the poetry of Ossian, and 
such also with that of die people of Ukraine. 

The songs published by M. Maxymowicz 
may be divided into the Duma^ and the songs 

^' The Duma," says he, *' are poems usually 
sung by tbe Badura. They difier from the 
songs by their narrative or epic character, and 
in their rhythmical construction, consisting of 
an indefinite number of syllables. It often hap- 
pens, however, that, owmg to the lyric tum of 
the people, a Dwna assumes the character of a 
song, as well as its rhythm and measure. I'he 
verse of the Duma is usually rhymed, its sub- 
ject historical." 

To complete this definition it must be add- 
ed, that the Badura are, or rather, were, (for 
they are now becoming scarce,) professional 
singers in Ukraine ; a kind of bards or min- 
strels, or rather, of rhapsodists, for everything 
there points to a beautiful Greece. Some of 
the Duma are, in fact, fragments of a regular 
epic, whilst others are mere rhymed chroni- 
cles, similar to those found amongst all na- 
tions, as their first essays at recording the 
events of their early history. As a specimen 
of the former, we select a Duma relative to 
a victory gained by the Cossacks over the 
Poles at dzechiyn. It opens with serious 
and pious reflections. 

*' Oh ! in our &med Ukraina there has been 
many a terrible moment, many a season of un- 
happiness; there have been plagues and broils 
of war ; there were none to help the Ukraini- 
ans ; none sent up prayers for them to God ; the 
1 holy God alooe, ne did not forget us; he assist- 




the enemy. The fierce tepipestfi pay^ p^gi^ea 
away ; they have sunk into stillness ; none have 
been able to conquer us ! — ^ot for one day, nor 
for two, did the Lachy (the JPoAes) ^under 
Ulmdnm. They did sot mm a inoiiunit*^ re- 
spite ; day and night tludr aonea stood bridled ; 
tney trod the paths to our Hetman Nalevayko ; 
and what does the brave Hetman ip^ilate and 
design ? What is the &te he prepares for his 
companiooa I Only the holy God knows — the 
holy Grod who assists him with his might." 

The Duma thus alludes to the approach of 
tiie Poles: 

** From beyond the mountain a cloud rises 
—it rises, it comes forth — ^it thunders towurds 
Czechryn; it sends forth its lightping over 
Ukraina ; it is the Poles, who have thrice cross- 
ed three rivers." 

The Polish army takes positiop, and the 
trumpets sound ; the Duma thus proceeds: 

" Those are not clouds thimdering with sa- 
cred thunder in the heavens; those are not 
saints being led into the presence of God. They 
are the Lachy, beating tneir drams and soima- 
ing their pipes and trumpets." 

The Polish army is then assembled to hear 
the harangue of the Hetman ; after which it 
crosses a river, makes an encampment, and 
places guns on the ramparts. In front of the 
guns are erected three crosses, upon two of 
which hang two Cossacks ; the tiiird seems 
to await some other Cossack, for the Duma 

'* It awaits, it looks for whomsoever the gun 
shall not reach, whom the bullets ^haU not 
strike — he shall find the icross of ash- tree." 

The Cossacks, on their part, also display 
their banners in sight of the Poles ; on the 
banners are inscribed these words : 

** To &ithful Christians, peace ; to the Lachy, 
foes, the infernal banquet. For 1dm who erects 
the cross, the cross awaits." 

Having jriven a panoramic view of the 
battle, the Duma relates, in rapid succession, 
the subsequent events : 

*'Then our hosts marched on four tracks; 
they marched on four tracks, and on the fifth 
field. [This expression is very firequentlv re- 
peated in the Duma.] They vanquished the 
Lachy on all sides ; they vanquished them on 
all the cross ways. The Lachy begged for 
mercy, and did not obtain it — the Cossacks do 
not give quarter — the Lachy do not forego an 


upcm Oikraine. 

" A^d QUf people too shiUl be uohmpy,!^ the 
cuckoo haA soo^. She sang wbit sb« hetfixi 
aifM>Dg8( the s^uM^. Wh«4 she hM ffuisg will 
surely happen. May Qoi prPteat us7 Se 
knows ^e issue, as he k|u>w« w^t our Hetman 
meditates, what he designs — our Hetman,whom 
)^ will assist with his mights Ii is not for us 
tQ }piQW it. It is our p^t tp pmy to God to be 
resigned in his presences.*' 

Tl^ lollowing Dum^ has neitbar the mm' 
plicity of popular poetry, nor is it flowing 
like a song, nor yet continuous as a tale : it 
is dithyiambic, Byron-like — reminding os in 
some respects of the poetry in his Giaour. 
Three troops of Cossacks go forth on their 
way. The chie& of the two first are filled 
with gloomy thoughts and ill-boding presenti- 
ments. The thiiti chie( who according to 
tradition was a drunkard, and was buried by 
his companions in a brandy cask, sings a 
drinking song. These images, two daric and 
one bright, follow each other in the Duma 
without any apparent connection. Some of 
our modem poets, lovers of sanguinary and 
gloomy pictures, might envy the standard- 
bearer Samko his dark train of thought. 

*' On ! the Cossacks marched on four tracks 
•^(m four tracks and on a fifth field. But one 
track Samko followed. And the standard-bearer 
was accompanied by oeadv three thousand men ; 
all brave Zaporogues. They wheel their char- 
gers; they Drandish their swords — diey beat 
their drums, pray to God, and sign themselves 
with the cross. But Samko ? He wheels not 
his charger, he checks his steed, he reins him 
up with the bridle. He meditates ; he thinks. 
May hell confound his meditations. Sajoiko 
meditates ; he thinks ; he utters these words — 
' What and if the Lachv burn our Cossacks as 
though they were in hell ? And if they make 
them a banquet of our Cossack bones ? What 
if our Cossack heads be scattered on the steppe 
and washed too with our native blood, and 
strewed over with our broken swords. It shall 
pmsb Uke dust, this Cossack feme of ours which 
thie^like has overrun the world, which stretched 
like the steppe and spread over the world with 
a sound like the roaring of the wind — it echoed 
through Turkey and through Tatary, and here 
it has caught the ed^ of the Lachy toes. 

"'The raven will croak, flymg over the 
steppe; the cuckoo will moum in the grove; 
gr^ hawks will moan, swift eagles will droop, 
and all this for their brethren, for the dauntless 
Cossack companions! What! did the whirl- 
wind bury them in sand ? or did they sink into 
hell, those dark men ? They are no more seen ; 
they are neither on the stepi^e, nor on the Tatar 
plains, nor on the Turkish mountains, nor upon 
the black hills, nor on the fields of Lachy. The 
raven will motmi, will scream, will croak, and 
fly over the stranger's land. And then lo! 

The Duma concludes, as it began, by grave 
religious remarks, overcast with ^oom, 9b 
though prophetic of the joisforlunes which I bones lie strewn about, swords are flashing — 


Songs of the Ukraine* 


bones awky broken swords dash, and the black 
magpie looks grim and stalks oirer the plain. 
And the heads of the Cossacks? They are as 
though the boot-maker Semen had lost one of 
his twisted skins. And their long tresses ? As 
though the devil had made wisps of straw — and 
sdl are grown stiff with clotted blood. Lo! 
verily they have earned fame enough.' " 

The Duma, strictly speaking, is an heroic 
elegy, consecrated to the memory of some 
distinguished chief. The following, remark- 
able for simplicity and pathos, commemorates 
the death of the Hetman Sunergowski : 

'* When the Hetman John Swiergowski 

To the Turks became a prev ; 
There they slew the gallant chieftain, 

They cut off his head that day. 
Their trumpets they blew, and his head on a 

spear , 

They set, and they mocked him with jest and 
with jeer. 

Yonder see a cloud descendiug, 

Raveos gathering on the puun, 
Gloom above Ukrama spreading; 

She mouras and weeps her Herman slain ; 
Then fierce o'er the wide plain the mighty 
winds blew, 

* Oh answer, what did ye with our Hetman do V 


Then black eagles soared past, screamiug, 
' Where did ye make our Hetman's grave ?' 

And larks rose up, to heaven streaming, 
' Where did ye leave our Hetman brave V 

* Where by Kilia's fair city the tomb stands 

On the^rkish line doth your Hetman lie.' " 

Another Duma of this kind terminates by 
two truly poetic lines. They are supposed 
to be the words uttered by the Cossack Mo- 
rozenko, as he is on the point of being quar- 
tered by the Turks or the Tatars, after having 
been Bayed alive, or, as it is expressed in the 
Duma, " despoiled of his red shirt." The 
dying captive desires to look toward his na- 
tive land, and exclaims : 

'^Oh, could I go into the pure field on the high 

I would look, 1 would gaze on my Ukraina." 

This aspiration after the pure field on the 
high mountain whence to look upon his 
countiT, contrasted with the deplorable situa- 
tion of the warrior, is deeply touching ; and 
the succession of firmness under torture, as 
exhibited in the following line, addressed to 
his executioner, 

" Bind, bind these hands back, damned Tatar !" 

and of sensibility at the remembrance of his 

native land, la an admirable strdce of art It 
is true to nature and to the character of the 

The following lines present a popular pic^ 
ture of a battle-field in that ina:ame where 
" the air breathes sorrow." 

** The field in darkness lajr, 
A Cossack there did ride ; 
Up the mount he bent his wa]r, 
Up the mountain's rugged side. 
And he spake to the mountain, 'Oh, high moun- 

twn, say, 
Wherefore didst thou not burn at the breaking 
of day V 

* Oh I did not bum that day, 

But when the moming rose 
I boil'd with blood.' — * Ha I mountain, say, 
Was ii blood of friends or foes ?' 
' Oh fast ran the torrent of that red flood, 
And 'twas Cossack half-mingled with Polish 
blood.' " 

The next Diuna shows us a Cossack dy- 
ing on the field of battle, and needs no com- 
ment to illustrate the train of feeling in 
the warrior's mind, to which it introduces 


** The wind is sighing, the grass makes moan. 

There a Cossack dying lies ; 
His drooping head rests on a stone; 

A banner shades his closing eyes. 


His sable steed is standing near,^ 

And at his head an eagle grey ; 
His claw% he twists in the Cossack^s hair,, 

And fiercely eyes his human prey. 

The warrior spake to the eagle grey ; 

' Eagle ! let us brothers b^— 
* When from my head thou hast torn away 

' These eyes, then go and speak of me. 


* Oo, speak to my mother dear of me, 

' And, eagle, now mark what thou must tell, 

* To that mother dear, I no more shall see, 

* W'hen she shall ask how her warrior fell : 


* Tell her, he warred for a chief of feme, 
' Who blessings shed on Crimea's land ; 

' Tatar Chan was his master's name ; 
* His meed might have been a royal hand, 

' But oh ! 'tis a mound on the plain.' " 

The following lines form a good pendant 
to the foregoing, and are picturesque charac- 
teristics of the locality : 


Songa of the Ukrame. 


'* Oh the tomb in the field to the wild wind spake, 

And that lonely tonob to the wind spake so ; 
'Blow over me, wind, lest I withered be, 

* Blow oyer me firefdi, lest I blackened grow. 

* Blow, that the young grass may spring np upon me, 

* That the yoong grass upon me may erer be greesi ! * 
No sun lights that tomb, and no breeze bloweth there, 

And ftjr, only hi off, Uie green grass is seen.'* 

The next Duma exhibits the Cossack leav- 
ing his home for the battle field, and well 
portrays the hardships of his condition. 
It may be considered as the prototype of 

many oihei^ and is probably very ancient 
The style is more aUegoric, and the tran- 
sitions more frequent, abrupt and bold, than 
is usually the case : 

^ The storm shakes the forest, and fierce winds are striving, 

I'hick glbom overshadows the plain ; 
The mother her son from his youth's home is driving — 

' Away, my son, turn not again — 

Hence ! let the Turks take their pr^.' 
' Oh mother, the Turks are right frienmy to me, 
With a gift of fleet horses I welcome shall be.' 

The storm shakes the forest, and the fierce winds are striving ; 

Thick gloom overshadows the plain; 
The mother her son from his youth's home is driving, 

* Away, my son ! mm not again ; 

Let the fierce Tatars seize on their prey.' 
^ Oh mother, the Tatars are friendly to me. 
With gold and with silver I welcome shall be !' 

One sister brings his steed from stall. 

Another his arms prc^ered then ; 
But weeping said his sister small, 

' Say, brother, when wilt thou come back again ? ' 

* Oh I sister mine, gather the sand of the plain, 
Aad the f^rains of sand on the bare stone sow ; 

And water it well with thy tears for rain. 
And to visit it daily, at grey dawn go; 

When the sand shall spring up like the grass of the plain, 

Then, sister mine, look for thy brother again ! ' 

The storm shakes the forest, gloom darkens the plain, 
The mother cries — 'Oh, my son, turn thee again; 
Let thy mother's hands wash thy long hair ! ' 

' Oh mother, my hair will be washed by the rain. 
The wind of the desert will dry it again. 
And to comb it, thom bushes are there.' " 

From amongst the songv proper we select 
one called Sentravxi, a flower of the species 
•Anemone patens. The Anemones, accord- 
ing to the Greek mythology, sprung from the 
tears shed by Venus over Adonis. Li Uk- 
raine, prophetic qualities are ascribed to this 


** The aged woman went weeping, 'weeping. 

Badly she made her wail; 
The aged woman about her dwelling 

Went mourning like an old quai]. 

The young sister plucked the Sentrawa, 
The flower foreshadowing doom ; 

*■ mother, what does the Sentrawa say ? 
Does it tell of the Cossack's tomb ?' 

* The Sentrawa grew in the field, mv dove. 
Sorrow plucked it and eave it to thee ; 

There i^^sorrow enough, for thy brother John 
From the tomb cannot vrakened be.' " 

The passions among this people, ever 
restless, ever agitated, seem to have reach- 
ed their highest pitch. The next son^ offers 
a specimen of this, combined with a wild and 
savage humour singularly characteristic. 


S&mgr tf tk* Vkmim. 


'* Oh do not then go to their feast by iiigHtf 

Gregory, oh Gregory I ^ 

There are witches amongst the maidens bright, 
Gregory, oh Gregory ! 


Beware of the maid that has the dark browi 

Gregory, oh Gregory I 

For her fittal spdls she will o'er thee throw, 

Gregory, oh Gregory ! 


She dug up the plant when the Sunday caihe, 

Alas for Gregory ! 
And on Monday morning she washed the saiiie, 

Alas for Gregory ! 


On the Tuesday the baleful plant boiled she, 

Alas for Gregory ! 
On Wednesday a poisoned man was he, 

Alas for Gregory ! 


When Thursday came he breathed no more, 

Gregory, oh Gregory ! 

On Friday they him to the church-yard bore, 

Gregory, oh Gregory ! 


Then her mother beat her on Saturday, 
Gr^ry, oh Gregory ! 

Thou evil one ! why didst thou Gro^ory slay ? 

Gregory, oh Gregory ! 


Mother, oh mother, grief recks not of right, 

Gregory, oh Gregory ! 

Why did he false vows to two maidens plight ? 

Gregory, oh Gregory ! 


Now he is neither for her nor for me, 

Gregory, false Gregory ! 

With the cold damp earth he shall nourished be, 

Gregory, false GregcNy ! 


There hast thou the meed thou hast merited 

Gregorv, false Gregory ! 
Four oaken planks and a dark narrow cell, 

Gregory, false Gregory ! 


So let young men leam what reward they gain, 

Ha I JewM^tome Mtber ! the wine cup bring, 

Qtegory, oh Gregory ! 

Fdlse Gregofy's faneral dirge 111 sins 

Gregory, oh Gregory P* 

The fcUowing lioes sung by youn^ men, 
ato if in retfJiatido^ and wUch are literally 
tFBittlated, tecatd tlie fete of a maiden who 
has lost her innocence, and form a suitable 
coviiderpsti to the foregoing ill-conditianed 

** Maiden, oh thou maiden Mr, 
Thy cheeks, why are thy cheeks so pale ? 
The nulk was eardled there. 

What became of the sweet blood, say. 
That bloomed in the milk ? A vampire came. 
Sucked from those cheeks the blood away. 
And a ibul witch the milk curdled she." 

Many of these songs complain of the rapid 
flight of time, and sometimes the fruitless re- 
gret for by-gcme years is beautifully expres- 

Gregory, oh Gregory ! 
sir false lo 

Who offer their false love to maidens twain, 

Gregory, oh Gregory ! 


•Now 'tis thy doom to lie rotting in earth, 

Gregory, oh Gregory ! 

'Tis mine to enjoy the world in my mirth, 
Grefpry, oh Gregory ! 

" Whither are ye fled, days of my youth I 
Have ye Mdden yourselves in dark woods ? are 
ye wandering in groves 1 Young vears of mine, 
whither are ye gone ? Did ye fold yourselves 
in a leaf, and take your flight into the steppe ?" 

This wan longing after the unreturmng 
pest is most usually expressed thus : — 

' He (she) overtook his (her) young years upon 
the bridge of Holly, but could not recall them.' 

The Holly is a symbolical tree in Ukraine. 
Again, how simple, life-like, and energetic is 
this picture of the irreparable loss of life. A 
mother is speaking at the tonib of her son. 

" ' Reach me, my son, thou eagle, reach me 
but thy right hand.' * Oh ! my mother, both 
hands would I reach thee, but the damp earth 
lies heavy on me ; I cannot raise them.' *' 

The following too is a beautiful image : — 

<( A maiden threw a flower into the npid 
stream. — ^Her mother went with a bucket to 
fetch water, and she drew up the flower out of 
the stream, and it was withered Then she 
knew that her daughter would be unhappy." 

These few quotations justify the conclusion 
that it is in the power of man to ascend on 
the rays of feelmg to that elevated sphere, 
whither we are borne on the wings of thought 
whilst listening to the lyric strains of Schiller. 
It is not, ther^ore, the delusion of a vain en- 
thusiasm to believe that there is a spiritual 
life peculiar to unlettered nations, which is 
more sympathetic, quickened, and plastic. 
Within the sphere of that existence generally 


SoMga of the Ukrmn^. 


dwells uupiration, the clear visioQ of the 
beautifid and true, to which in our days it is 
only given to a genius of high order to attain 
by the complete mastery of his art. The 
people of Ukraine still retain that high degree 
of dear right*feeling ; they are ever magnet- 
ised by unceasing sorrow. Their parents 
Uius bewail the loss of their children : — 

" Fathers and mothers go, they go to ask 
after their sons. Eagles no more accompany 
your sons. Your sons refused to be soldiers ; 
they made themselves a settlement in the River 
Boh !" 

That is, they drowned themselves to avoid 
being taken as recruits. How many similar 
settlements are now annually made in Russia ! 
But let us turn fix)m such subjects, which, 
according to Schiller's, 

" Was unsterblich in Gesang soli leben 
Muss im Leben untergehen;*' 

must first die in reality to live in song — ^to 
the times when the inhabitants of Ul^ine, 
however otherwise unhappy, still enjoyed 
fi^edom — Oman's greatest earthly boon. We 
shall conclude our extracts by a Duma, en- 
titled " The Flight of the Three Brothers 
from Azoff^^ a composition which may be 
read with pleasure without any reference to 
time or locality. 

*' Dark clouds give not forth those specks in the 

That rise up, AzoflT, o'er thy city so &ir ; 
But brethren three, and in secret they fly 
From their cruel captivity there. 

The eldest they ride on their coursers fleet. 
But the younger brother he has no steed, 
The roots and the stones wound his Cossack feet, 
And they redden the ground as they bleed. 

To his horsemen brothers then thus spake he : 

* Brothers, my brothers, now list what I say, 
Give rest to your coursers, and wait for me ; 
Then to some Christian city direct your way.* 

And the second horseman then heard his cr^. 
And his heart was moved at his brother's nam ; 
But the first reproved him with stem reply. 
And said, 'Dost thou yearo for thy bondage 
again ?* 

* Shall we listen now to our brother's word. 
Although the pursuers are on our track, 
Fierce bent to slay us with gun and with sword, 
Or to bear us with them to bondage back V 

* If ye will not stay for me, my brethren 

Then turn your fleet steeds to the right at least ; 
And bury my corse in the open plain, 
Nor leave me the prey or the bird and the 


VOL. XXVI. 21 

But the second said, ' Brother, that may not we, 
Such a deed has never been heard of yet ; 
Shall the thrust of a lance our farewell be? 
And our swords in our brother's blood be wet V 

* Then, brothers, since me ye refiise to 

Whenye reach the wood do this thing for me ; 
Cut off'^ the thcMm branches, and strew on the 

And a gmde to my wandering steps they'll be.' 

The brothers sj)eed fast to the forest crey, 
The second wuls sadly as on they ride ; 
And he scatters the thorn branches all die way, 
That they to his brother may *serve as a guide; 

Thev passed the thick forest, and on they weni^ 
To the open track where no thombushes grew ; 
Then the lining red from his vest he rent. 
And scattered the fragments the path to show. 

When the younger brother the thorns had past. 
He saw the red nagments all scattered there. 
He gathered them up, and his tears fell •fiist, 
'Ah! not without cause are these fingments 

' Now alas, alas, for my brethren twain ! 
For surely no more in the world are they ! 
Their cruel pursuers have found them again. 
And me they passed in the thorns as I lay. 

' My brothers with sword and gun they have 

May the merciful God but show me where ! 
Ill dig their graves in the steppe's pure plain. 
And I'll bury their Cossack bodies there.' 

On his first day's journey no bread he eats ; 
The next without water to drink he has pest ; 
On the third, the desert's fierce wind he meets, 
And his weary limbs bend to the furious blast 

'Oh, enough have I followed these horsemen 

He said, as he reached the Sawar mountain high : 
' "lis time to give rest to my Cossack feet,' 
Then he laid him down by the mount to die. 

Then swifdy, swiftly, the eajg;les flew down 
And they fiercely stared in his dying eyes ; 
' Now welcome guests are ye, ye eagles brown; 
Oh fly to me quickly,' the Cossadc cries. 

' Oh eades, pluck ye these eyes from my head 
When &od's fair world I no longer shall see ;' 
The expiring Cossack when thus he had said. 
His soul to the merciful God gave he. 

Then the eagles flew down, and they plucked 

His eyes from his head, as he bade them do ; 
The small birds also came down to their prey, 
And the grey wolves gathered around him too. 

They tore off* the flesh from his yellow bones. 
They feasted high midst the thorns by the way. 
And with mournful howls, and with fierce low 

The dirge of the Cossack ^s sung that day. 


Copyrigki in Italy. 


Whence oame the brown cackoo that sat by his 

That sat by his head and sang piteously ? 
As a sister bewails her brother dead, 
Or a mother her son, so wailed she ! 

And the horsemen twain stiU sped on their way 
To a Christian town where they hoped for rest: 
Bnt a heavy grief on their hearts now lay ; 
* Ah not without cause are our hearts opprest. 

' Alas, and alas, for our younger brother ! 
For surely no more in the world is he ; 
Whatf when weVe greeted our &ther and mo- 
And they ask of him, shall our answer be V 

Tbe second thus spoke ; then the elder said, 
*• Say, he served not the same Lord as we ; 
Twas night, and he slept when from chains we 

We could not awake him with us to flee.' 

The second then answered him, ' Brother, nay, 
'T wM ill beseem us to say such a thing ; 
If that which is Mse unto them we say. 
Their prayers upon us will a dark doom bring.* 

The brothers on to the Samar field ride, 
They stop to rest by the river Samar; 
They water their steeds at the river *s side, 
When down came the Moslem riding from far. 

The impious Mussulmen slew them there, 
They quartered their bodies, and over the plain 
Strewed their Cossack limbs ; their heads on a 

They raised, and long mocked o*er the brethren 


We regret our inability to preserve in the 
translations the beauty, harmony and energy 
of the originals. Those only who understand 
the language of the people of Ukraine can 
appreciate the richness of its grammatical 
constructioa, and the almost countless and 
delicate gradations of meaning of which die 
same word is made susceptible by a alight 
change in its termination. The sonorous 
strains oi these songs can perhaps best be 
conceived of^ by imagining the ancient Greek 
combined with the modem Italian. We will 
not here speak of their melodies, since mere 
description would ML to convey a just idea 
of them. Of this species of music we have 
amongst us no prototype. The strains seem 
to flow like long-protracted gusts of wind re- 
sounding over their own steppes. When 
they sing them on the banks of the Dnieper, 
with their faces turned towards the Karpats, 
one might believe that their voice passes over 
all that wide space between the river and the 
mountains, and that the mountains themselves 
must one day be moved by the majestic 
grandeur of their sorrow. 

Many of the songs published by Maxymo- 
wicz were compo«d by Polish nobles settled 

in Ukraine. Even at the present day one of 
them, Fadura, promises to become me Mac- 
pheraon of that country ; his compositions 
are universally popular, ajui well deserve to 
be 80. Perh^w we may at some future op* 
portunity return to this subject, and notice 
them more at length. 

As it isAn unalterable truth, that '^ revenge 
recoils upon itself," so yet more does every 
good intention, every good action of man 
sooner or later bring its recompense. This 
remark is especially applicable m the present 
instance to uie Poles, than whom none have 
derived greater benefit from the popular songs 
of Ukraine, since they have begun to take 
interest in them. Their own venerable 
Niemcewicz modelled upon them his '^Du- 
ma," which sing of the famous monarcbs and 
heroes of Poland, and which have become a 
complete national work.* The element of 
Ukrainian poetry has since been transfused 
into modem Polish literature, to the very 
great advantage of the latter. Four Polish 
poets of no ordinaiy genius have divided 
amongst them the spiritual domain of Ukraine j 
Zaleski and Olizaroski are singing her beauty 
and ancient fireedom : Goszczynski has pic- 
tured her horrors, whilst Maczewski chose 
the widest field for himself— that of her sor- 
row. With the exception of the last-named 
poet, who is dead, the others, Niemcewicz 
included, are tuning, in eidle, their harps to 
foreign ears. 

Ubi aolitudinemfaciunt^ pacem appellant. 

Art. III. — 1. Letttra di Nicdo Tommaseo 
ax Lihrai Italiani auila proprietH Leutror 
via. Venezia, 1839. 

2. Jltti ddla prima Riunion$ desrli Scien- 
ziati Italiani tenuta in Pisa nelt Ottohrt, 
1839. 4to. Pisa, 1840. 

3. Italitn. Beitrdge zur Kenntniss dieses 
Landes, von Friedrich yon Raumer. (Rau* 
mer's Italy.) 2 vols. Leipsdg. 

Events have recently taken place in Italy 
which seem likely to lead to the most impor- 
tant results. A mutual compact has been 
entered into by the Sardinian and Lombardo- 
Venetian governments, providing fiir tbe se- 
curity of literary prope^ witUn the limits 
of their respective dominions. The privilege 
of copyright thus extended over a country 
inhabited by nearly ten millions will soon 

* See the article on Poliih Literature in the 49lh 
Namber of this Rcvtow. 


Copyright in ludy. 


faring about in Piedmont and Lomfaardy the 
ceflsation of an evil of which the Italian au- 
thon have hitherto so justly and bitfeiiy 
complained. We have recently indicated 
how severdy writen and publishen luffer in 
En^and from the systematic republication of 
their works in America ; the French com* 
plain with equal reascm of the frequent en- 
croachments of the Belgian press. But in 
Italy no works of literature could be turned 
to any profitable account Booksellers and 
publiaherB followed the maxim — '^homo ho- 
mini lupus." Gop3rrigfat was secured to the 
author or editor only within the narrow dis- 
trict in which his work was published ; he 
knew full well that at the distance of twenty 
or thirty miles there were a number of pira- 
tical printers lawfully entitled to seize upon 
his property as soon as it attained any degree 
of popularity ; and as the sale of books, ex- 
cept m tiie kingdom of Najdes, where they 
pay a very heavy duty, was commercially 
iceey those piracies were put forth and circu- 
lated under the very eyes of the author. A 
name of the hig^st standing was no protec- 
tioa against this impudent system of depreda- 
tion. Botta, an exile, was obliged to sell in 
Pkris, as waste paper, the splendid French 
edition of his History of Italy, while Swiss 
and Italian booksellers were making their for- 
tunes by an uninterrupted series of its repub- 
lications. Manzoni received from his pub- 
lisher a trifling sum for the manuwriptof his 
*^ Promeasi Spon," and that only as a pre- 
sent ; and In vain did Pellico, at evoy new 
work he produced, urge the mor&l duty of 
respecting a privilege which constitutes now- 
a-days a part of the rights of nations, and re- 
aueat the gentlemen of the press not to de- 
naud him of the honest recompense of his la- 

Such an evil, however, was not unattend- 
ed by some salutary effect. Literature in 
Italy was never reduced to the level of a 
trade. It could only be cultivated by men 
of independent fortime. The Italian princes 
were no longer in a coodition to hire the pen 
of mercenary writers, and upon the maxim of 
the Republic of Venice, they wished their 
gtyvemmenta never to be spoken of even in 
pnise or censure. The '* Voce della Verity" 
and similar organs of government, by dwell- 
ing too freely on topics of national mterest, 
had already to a great extent served the cause 
they were intended to oppose. The ririiti 
of absolutism are best advocated by absolute 
flilaice ; consequently all court poets and 
hifltariogiajrfiers had long ago been silenced. 
Even had there been writers in Italy willing 
to sell their productions, it would not have 
been easy to find a purchaser. Flattery was 

a merchandize equally disdredited by power 
and public opinion, and literature in conse- 
quence, although comparatively more sterile 
and alent, was yet more pure and dignified 
than in many free countries. It was more 
oppressed and fettered, hence less apt to grow 
licentious and insolent ; it followed not the 
capricious opinions and passions of th^ multi- 
tude, but it marched at the head of social 
movement, a stem censor, dictating and rul- 
ing with an authority which the conscious* 
nesB of its irreprehensibility gave it a right to 

Since the year 1814> no immoral book of 
any note has issued from the preaa in Italy, 
all have been directed to one leading object 
— ^the severe reformation of moral principles. 
This is, no doubt, the consequence €i the 
censorship, which is exercised with equal 
vigilance in all Italian states, and which, in 
a political point of view, every freeman must 
cordially detest But as it is in the secret 
ways of Providence to tarn an instrument of 
evil into an agent oi good, we cannot doubt 
that Italian morals have benefited by that 
restriction; and however true may be the 
descriptions of Italian profligacy given every 
day by French and Ei^i^ish travellen, still it 
is consoling to think that the Italian people 
have no such teachers of morals as Bulwer 
or Ainsworth, Paul de Kock or Victor Hugo. 

Italy, moreover, possessed no centre of 
literature, no such literary metropolis as P*- 
ris, London or Edinburgh ; no literary foir, 
such as is yearly held in Lieipzic or Dresden* 
The journals, which ou^t to exercise a gen- 
eral mfluence upon the whole country, have 
been successively suppressed, and tlie nun^ 
berless literary periodicals appearing in our 
days in every town, genesally su{^ported by 
free contributkms— no less tion seventy-two 
are daily received at Viesseux's Gabmetto 
Scientifico e Letterario in Florence — all have 
hitherto been conducted with that timidity 
and narrow-mindedness which could alone, 
in the present state of thinga, secure their ex- 
istence. Consequently/ every town or pro- 
vince in Italy has been kept in a state of 
Srfect ignorance of the praoessof iti immo- 
ite neighbours. All efforts tending to 
establlBh an Italian periodical bibliography 
have been void of effect Travels and cor^ 
respondences were subjected to the most dis- 
heartening vexations. It will therefore be 
no wonder to hear bow many years it took 
for the most popular works to inake the tour 
of the peninsula. The poems of Grossi never 
crosKQ the Apennines for the space of thrae 
yean. ^^Ettore Fieramosca,'^ a Milaneae 
book on a Neapolitan subject, was translated 
into English and French before it had iairly 


Copyright in lutly. 


made its way into Naples; and the *'Bo- 
manze" of Berchet pnnted in London, and 
afterwards at Lugano in Switzerland, literally 
fought their way into the country. Those 
poems were circulated for many years in 
manuscript, learned by heart and transmitted 
from town to town by enthusiastic admirers, 
ere a single printed copy could obtain admis- 
sion into that iron*fenced garden of Eurc^e. 

These very impediments, however, thus 
thrown in the way of publication, frustrated 
the intent of those who created them. The 
works that government proscribed had, like 
aU other forbidden fruits, a peculiar relish. 
The censure of the Tuscan police has made 
the fortune of Guerrazzi's ^'Assedio di 
Firenze." By their jealousy and suspicion 
the governments showed where lay theu- vul- 
nerable side. Literary reputations, con- 
firmed by so many years of struggle and trial, 
were based on a more solid ground. The 
writer in Italy was oftentimes looked upon as 
a hero and martyr, and his words went forth 
like the fetidical notes of an oracle. The 
want of free circulation and literary com- 
merce had also the advantage of deterring 
mediocrity from forcing itself into public no- 
tice. All modem pr(Muctions underwent a 
process which nothing but the purest ore 
could withstand. 

If we appear willing to look on the better 
aide of the national calamities of Italy, it is 
because we now hail with pleasure the ap- 
proach of a better state of things. The yearly 
meeting of Italian scholars — ^we have before 
us the report of their first session at Pisa — 
and the treaty of literary alliance to which 
we have alluded at the beginning of this ar- 
ticle, seem to manifest a springing up of bet- 
ter feelings on the part of the S^dinian and 
Austrian rulers ; they seem to imply by those 
acts that, re-assured by the long continuance 
of peace, and prevailed upon by the over- 
whelming force and unanimity of public 
opinion, they begin to feel compelled to 
acknowledge that there is an Italy ; that, if 
by right of self-preservation, they are entitled 
to quench all insurrectional spirit tending to 
bring about a nati<uial political unity, tiiey 
can no lon^r prevent their subjects from 
uniting to aid and ejicourage each other in 
the promotion of public wel&re, and in the 
difiusion of intellectual culture. 

On the other hand the Italians, wearied 
out with repeated Mures, forced to recog- 
nize the umversal peaceful tendency of the 
age, convinced tlmt eveiy revolutionary 
scheme of emancipation would be a declara- 
tion of war not oidy against Austria, but, in 
&ct, against every other power that feels in- 
terested in the maintenance of peace, seem 

to have, at least for the present, rdinquished 
every thought of an armed vindication m their 
national n^ts ; they have ceased to l^id a 
willing ear to the perfidious insinuations of 
France ; and, with the tactics of a general 
who changes his siege into a blockade, they 
turn all their efibrts to the regeneration at 
the national character, and hope, by a gene- 
ral diffusion of knowledge among the lowest 
classes, by a forcible rehabilitation of their 
name in the opinion of their neighbours, to 
enable themselves better to take advantage of 
such future European convulsions as I^rovi- 
dence in its inscrutable designs may be 
slowly maturing. 

This undeniable improvement in the social 
and moral condition of Italy has been rather 
wilfully overlooked by foreign visiters, and 
more especially by our British travellers, 
who notwithstanding their usual diBcrimina- 
tion and liveliness of description, yet, in their 
hurry to get over the widest space of ground 
in the shortest possible time, have too often 
relied on the accounts of previous writers, and 
unscrupulously sacrificed accuracy of state- 
ments to the wantoimess of plaj^ satire. 
What evil impressions they might thus in- 
sinuate into the minds of tneir readers, how 
&r they might contribute to keep alive the 
national ill-will that is rankling in the bosom 
of all European &milies, they probably never 
stopped to consider. Accustomed to abuse 
the privilege of a free press, writing throu^ 
very idleness and publishing throu^ vanity, 
they forgot that Italy is not even allowed the 
right of self-defence. Thus we must confess 
tint when the no less amiable than learned 
Mr. Walter Savage Landor charitably states 
'' that an honest man is not to be found in 
Italy for every forty in • England," or when 
the modest and not less witty author of " Pen- 
ciUings by the Way" asserts '^ that a cicigbeo 
is a sine gud non among the written articles 
of a mamase contract of the Italian nobility 
in our days" — the Italians caimot help being 
reminded of that generous animal that ad- 
ministered the last kick to the lion brought 
down by his rivals and lying wounded and 
helpless in his death throes. 

We have recently visited Italy, and it was 
with some misgivings, naturally arising from 
so many evidences, which would have almost 
induced us to disbelieve what we had already 
seen ten or twelve years ago, and what we 
fondly and rationally anticipated. 

We found Italy apparently busy (as usual 
and yet less than usual) with masquerades 
and monkish processicms, plunged into lan- 
guor and misery, forgetting herself among 
effeminate pleasures; and yet anxious and 
restless, perplexed with vague but intense 


Copyright in Italy. 


kmgings tor greatness, aiming at high but 
impracticable undertakingB, striTing by fits 
and starts to follow the movement of £uio- 
pean civilisation, but MLing mid-way, sink- 
ing imder the weight of a thousand diackles 
which she must drag along in her {MX)gre8s. 
New or long abandoned roads had been 
opened or restored, some across the Appe- 
mnes, one fiY)m the gulf of Spezia, another 
from Sestri to Lombardy, a third between 
Florence and Forli, and again one along the 
shore of the Mediterranean, across the Tus- 
can marshes from Leghorn to Civitavecchia. 
Turin and Naples were lighted by gas, and 
the last of these towns boaisted a rail-road to 
Castellamare. The coasts of the peninsula 
were circumnavigated by a number of steam- 
ers bearing Tuscan, Sicilian and Sardinian 
colours, and new rival lines of steamboats 
were soon to ply on the Po and Adriatic. 
Many of these undertakings arose fix)m pri- 
vate associations, and were reluctantly sanc- 
tioned by the mistrusting governments. 

Tnd^, spirit of innovation and ardour of 
enterprise is more often consulted than either 
expediency of purpose or plausibility of 
plan. Many of the sugar houses and ircxi 
foundries, of the silk and cloth manufactories 
opened in Tuscany and Lombardy, obliged 
88 they are to reckon on the consumption of 
a small state, and overwhelmed by the com- 
petition of thriving establishments in other 
countries, are easily exploded ; but even that 
incompleteness of success goes &r to demon- 
strate that there remains still in Italy more 
life than can materially be turned to useful 
purposes, and that Italian inactivity is not 
wholly to be laid to the charge of the too 
often alleged indolence and enervation of a 
southern climate. But, as it is literature es- 
pecially that &lls within the province of our 
inquiry, we must be allowed to express our 
opinion that the new understanding between 
Austria and Sardinia concerning a mutual 
guarantee of literary property is to be merely 
considered as an emanation of that universal 
want of life and activity irresistibly felt 
throughout the country, and having power to 
bend to its views even the inflexibUity of the 
god terminus that presides over the weighty 
deliberations of the Aulic Council at Vienna. 

We candidly confess that we have always 
hitherto believed in a social and moral im- 
provement in Italy, which we attributed ex- 
clusively to the energy of the soundest part 
of the populaticm ; we always thought that 
it would be obvious to every impartial- obser- 
ver that powerful and immortal elements of 
cohesion and vitality must remain in a coun- 
try doomed to bear so long an hour of trial : 
— ^we wondered what other nation mi^t have 

been able to withstand the combined eVils of 
long division and thraldom, — ^the repeated 
calamities of invasion and war, — ^the constant 
influence of a ciafly, bigoted, and powerM 
priesthood, and yet preserve all the outward 
aspect of growth and prosperity, and closely 
follow their more fortunate transalpine and 
transmarine neighbours in science, m letters 
and arts ;-^we looked at Spain not earlier 
than three centuries ago the mistress of both 
continents, the ^ ruler of the destinies of the 
globe ; — Spain, always preserving its integ- 
rity and independence, and yet without any 
external impulse, by only one of the many 
calamities which she had in common with 
Italy — ^popery, brought down from her height 
of power and plunged into such a depth of 
ignorance and misery, that it may be doubted 
whether any constitution will ever redeem 
her. Wetnen turned to the dignified be- 
haviour of the Milanese in presence of their 
foreign rulers, and of their mute but firm 
protest against that time-sancticmed in- 
fringement of their natural rights, by a jeal- 
ous and obstinate avoidance of all inter- 
course with the hated Austrian soldiery ; and 
we were reminded of the twice subdued and 
thrice fermenting Romagna, and of the im- 
posing apparatus by which Austria finds it 
necessary m the midst of peace to turn the 
whole of the Lombard plain into a vast 
casern, — when we considered all this, we 
suspected there could be no good mutual 
understanding between the people and the 
government ; we thought that the genius and 
energies of the nation must be severely 
checked by that rigid system of suspicion and 
'force, and that such a state or things must have 
the most pernicious effect on the real interests 
of society. 

M. von Raumer, however, in his late pub- 
lication on Italy, seems to entertain a widely 
different opinion. From the vast amount of 
statistical facts and of elaborate arguments 
brought forward by the Prussian traveUer, it 
would seem that the Austrian government is 
a blessing of heaven to civilize and humanize 
Italy ; that by a comparison between the ad- 
ministration of the Lombardo-Venetian king* 
dom and that of the so-called independent 
governments, it is evident that the Italians 
are unfit to govern themselves, and that every 
attempt at social or literary improvement in- 
variably receives its first start under Austrian 
auspices. Von Raumer, being a German 
himself, as well as one of Mettemich's con* 
fidants, and by him directed to his most effi- 
cient lieutenants and agents in Italy, is likely 
to have had a better insight into the secret 
working of Austrian policy than ourselves. 

But, as it has been, perhaps not very cha- 


CVyrigki in Italy. 


ritably, obsenred, ^' a German is not content 
to take an airing on his hobby in a steady old 
gentlemanly sort of -way. He gives it a doa- 
ble feed of metaphysical beans, jumps on 
its bare back, throws the bridle over his ears^ 
applies his l^hted pipe to its tail, and does 
not think he is riding till he is ran away 
with ; at last the horse comes to some obsta- 
cle where there is a great gulf fixed. He 
naturalhr refuses to leap, but not so his mas* 
ter. No true German would give a doit for 
a ditch with a further side to it ; so down he 
gets, takes a mile for a run, swings his arms, 
springs off with one bound that overleaps 
ah bounds, and ali^its on his head quite in- 
sensible, somewhere ' beyond beyond.' " 

Many and various are tiie hobbies on which 
die " author of the Hohenstaufen'' took his 
ride over Italy. Many are the extravagant 
all-sweeping notions under whose tjrranny he 
voluntarily submits himself; some of them 
are quite of a harmless ingenuous nature. 
His fond conviction of being a connoisseur 
judge in matters of art, his elai)orate discrim- 
mations on naked Venuses and German 
housemaids, his long invectives against the 
music of Donizetti and Bellini ; his jokes on 
the opera dancers' drawers, &c. resemble that 
ponderous fun described by Milton — 

** The OQwieldf elephant 
To make them mirth used all his might, and 

His lithe proboscis." 

But when he starts fix>m Berlin under a full 
definite impression that ^^ the Ein^ of Prussia 
is the greatest reformer of our age, when he 
launches forth into a transcendimt encomium 
of the ** Russian constitution," when in short 
he adopts for his device the maxim of Casti : — 

** Che assoluto, despotico goyemo, 
E baono per la state e per Tinvemo ;'* 

we must be allowed to hesitate before we 
take him as an arbiter of the differences ex- 
isting between Austria and her subjects of 
Italy. For instance, we cannot agree with 
him, though he seems to take it for granted, 
that the rights of the Kaisers on their pro- 
vinces beyond the Alps are founded cm tiieir 
anccession to the throne of Chariemagne and 
Otho I. ; and we have been rather surprised 
to hear so much fix)m the historian of the 
bouse of Swabia, who ought to know better 
Aan any other by what bard-won struggles 
the Lombard and Tuscan free townshad 
shaken off their alle^ance to the empire, and 
asserted their independence. It is but jiutice 
to say that Austria herself never thinks of 
having recourse to such far>fetehed historical 
demoDstiations to strengthen her chums on 

the sovereignty of Italy. She relies on the 
incontrovertible arguments of her cannons 
and bayonets, on the active vigilance of her 
police, and above all on the division and 
helplesBnesB of the petty states which fk% 
holds under her control, on the ignorance 
and insensibility of brutified masses, and on 
that anxious and jealous love of peace which 
voy justly opposes the propagandism of libe- 
ral opinions, and prevents the powers of 
Europe from espousing the cause of the op- 
pressed. Austria rules and reasons not; — 
and she would be so very fiir from feeling 
any obligation to her learned advocate, that 
we cannot doubt but that she would never 
suffer V(m Baumer's woric to be translated 
and printed in Italy. 

As we cannot admit that Austria has any 
other right to her supremacy in Italy than 
that of force, or that indeed any natioa is en- 
titled to bold another under its sway, except 
in so far as the other cannot help it, so we 
are not to be earily persuaded that the politi- 
cal system now followed by Austria is likely 
to enlighten or ennoble the Italian race, or 
much less reconcile them to their doom* 
Austria, by oonfessiaa of Von Baumer him- 
self is yet ftr from his beau-id^ of a social 
edifice—the drilling and dramming Russian 
system of military government Austrian 
tardiness, obstinacy and stupidity, are pro- 
verbial even among their brothers of Gei^ 
many. That the heavy rule of such a gov- 
ernment may act as a dead weight to suMue 
the effervescent spirits of a lively but paa- 
sionate nation, after the same principle that 
Mount ^tna was laid on the breast of the 
giant of antiquihr to prevent his dmng mis* 
chie^ we could have easily tmderstood ; but 
that censorship, espionage, conscription, po- 
peiy, convents and Jesuits, and all time 
shackles and fetters and vexations of every 
kind of which Austria is either the promoter 
or the staunch supporter, may be considered 
as the elements of a " slow but sure system of 
civilisation and culture," is more than we 
would take upon ourselves, in En^and at 
least, to demonstrate. 

At any rate, however we may be willing 
on any other subject to submit our (minion 
to that of the learned professor of Beriin, we 
must be permitted to make at least one ex- 
ception in fevDur of the Italian people, and 
repeat that the advantages that are ready to 
result from the decree establishing the privi- 
lege of cop3rri^ in the north of Italy are not 
altogether the result of that beneficial ascend- 
ency of the Austrian rule to which he is will- 
ing to ascribe all mental and moral progress 
in that country. 

We read among a large ntmiber of 


Capyrig/a in Italy. 


addrases bom ^vcurv part of the country, a 
letter by Niccol6 Tomixiaseo irom Venice (a 
name uniyeraally respected), to the Italian 
bookaeUers, oa the neceaaity of adopting some 
measure to secure to all writers and editon 
the possession of their literary productions. 
We find in the last April number of the 
'' BuUetino Bibliografico^' of G. B. Vieaseux 
of Florence, the remonstrances of " Librai e 
Letterati" ifrom every part of Italy, and even 
from France and Switzerland, loudly asking 
for laws and treaties for the protection of this 
same literary property. A vast association 
bad meanwhile been entered into by almost 
all booksellers of any credit in the countiv, 
of which the centre is at Florence, and which, 
under the name of " Societii Editrice Fioren* 
tina," is to take upon itself the prcanotion of 
the interests of literature, and put an end to 
the disgraceful system of literary piracy. 
Then and only then did Austria and Sardinia 
feel the expediency of their beneficial decree. 
This mutual compact, which the Italian, the 
last of all civilized governments, has been 
finally shamed into, is only a first step, and 
one apparently of mere commercial import* 
ance. But the Italians are not perhaps whol- 
ly wicng when they expect from it more 
momentous consequences than it was given to 
the authors of that measure to anticipate. 

'* The limg of Naples and the Grrand Duke 
of Tuscany, as maybe seen fix)m one of the 
August numbers of Galignani's MesMnger, 
'^have at last acceded to the treaty recently 
concluded between Austria and Sardinia for 
the protection of literary property. The 
Court of Rome has been applied to, and has 
declared that it will take the matter into im» 
mediate consideration."* 

It may appear strange that this revolution 
(for such it certainly is under a moral point 
of view,) should originate with those govern- 
ments which have hitherto shown themselves 
most hostile to any spirit of iimovation ; more 
strange still that the minor potentates, which 
are, in point of 6ct, scarcely allowed to have 
a will of their own, and especially the de- 
scendant of that great innovator Peter Leo- 
pcdd, — the ''mild and benignant" grand 
Duke of Tuscany, — should have needed any 
remonstrance to induce him to join that lite- 
rary confederacy. That apparent illiberal 
reluctance is, however, to he referred to that 

* We understand from ihc last letterfl of oar cor- 
re^K>ndenU, Uiat after nature delibermtkin the pope 
hmm definitively rejected the propoeale of hie ailiee, 
•nd issued ne«r decrees to prevent bis subjects from 
entering into anj literary association with the neigh, 
bouring states. Foreign notices, since writing the 
mboTe, give an account of the accession of the Dukes 
of Ltueem and Modena to the treaty. 

very mildness and benignity with which that 
wise and enlightened prince watches over 
the wel&re ofhis subjects. It is well known 
that, since the extinction of the Medici and 
the accession of the House of Lcnraine, Tus* 
cany has been like ''an oasis in the wilder- 
ness," secure against the disasters of Italian 
proscriptions and banishments. Filled with 
the idefi that their mild and somewhat effemi- 
nate subjects would in those political convul- 
sions &re no better than the lamb in the com- 
pany of wolves, the rulers, we should rather 
say the shepherds, of Tuscany have been 
careful to isolate themselves from every so- 
cial or commercial connection, in order to 
establish a jpermanent quarantine agginst poli- 
tical contagion. To this system of isolaticm 
and exclusivenesB the present Grand Duke 
clings with all the fondness of hereditary pre- 
dilecticm ; and his vigilance and activity are 
redoubled in proportion as the name of Italy, 
with all the prestige of its ancient associa- 
tions, is ninmg ground around him. Every- 
thing in Tuscany is eminently Tuscan, and 
the care with which every allusion to the 
rest of Italy is dexterously avoided, would in- 
duce you to believe that the Apennines and 
the Tyrrhenian sea are the boundaries of the 
known world. Thus all the banking and in- 
surance houses, of which the centre for all 
the rest of northern Italy is at Milan, have 
never been fairly enabled to extend their 
flourishing operations to Florence. While 
Piedmont, Parma, and even Austria, have in- 
troduced a uniform, decimal system, the Tus- 
cans are still condemned to reckon by their 
'' florins, lire, paoli, and crazie," — ^the most 
awkward system of numeration and the most 
wretched coin in existence. The lines of 
public conveyances, which, under the names 
of messageriesj dUigencea^ or velociferi, have 
croaaed Italy in every directicm during the 
last twenhr years, and by the correspondence 
that they have estsibli^ed with French, Swin^ 
and German lines, have poweriiilly ccmtribut- 
ed to afford an easy and speedy communica- 
tion throughout the continent, have been con- 
stantly stc^qped at the Tuscan confine ; and 
this, only because the paternal solicitude of 
the Grand Duke always apprehended in that 
public comfort the utter destruction of his 
vetturint and calesneri, — one of the numer^ 
ous classes of his beloved populace, privileg- 
ed to starve their horses to death, and to 
harass, waylay, and abuse the travellers that 
have the misfortune to fall into their hands, 
with every kind of ill treatment short of cut- 
ting their throats. Diligences have however 
been at last established m Tuscany ; for the 
I " march of intellect" proved stronger even 
I than the Grand Dukes provi^ntial inten^ 


Copyright in Italy. 


tions. But faithful even in that extremity 
to hb ideas of patriotism, he called them Di- 
ligenze Toscane^ and hy interdicting their in- 
tercourse with the Roman and Lomhard lines, 
he completely frustrated the main point for 
which tiiey were instituted. 

Deprived nearly of all commerce and in- 
dustry, Tuscany, naturally a barren, moun- 
tainous, marshy r^on, would soon sink from 
the state of prosperity for which it is gen- 
erally extolled, were it not for the pains 
taken by its ruler to render it the favourite 
resort of foreigners, by fitting up the whole 
country, but esoecially its lovely capital, as 
a large hotel. Hence the comparative ease 
and civility of the Tuscan police, — hence 
the aversion of government to capital execu- 
tions, and to those political arrests and pro- 
scriptions which might have the effect of 
spreading a gloom over the &ce of society, 
and inspiring with mistrust or antipathy the 
thoughtless tourist who travels in quest of 
amusement. Hence also the numberless re- 
li^ous and popular festivals — flattering and 
pampering an idle populace in their lazy 
propensities, and impressing the short-sighted 
observer with notions of a contentment and 
plenteousness which cause him to exclaim 
in the words of the court poet — 

** Dch ! cbc non h tutto Tosetna il mondo I'* 

Hence the public banquets on Ascension 
day, when the cascine are turned into a vast 
dining-table, and the meanest subject be- 
comes, at his own expense, his sovereign's 
guest, and all those pallii, corse di bight^ 
fireworics and illuminations, with which peo- 
ple are regaled to satiety firom April to Au- 
gust, and which make one feel what an 
arduous task royalty must be for a prince 
who considers it his duty to countenance all 
the sports of his subjects, lest, deprived of 
his presence, they should wax tired of their 
happiness. Hence also that meeting of Ital- 
ian savoTiU at Pisa, which soon proved to be 
an event of greater moment than was at first 
intended, as the Italians only saw in it an 
occasion for national reunion, notwithstand- 
ing some attempts of the Gazetta di Fireme 
to call it the ^'Gongresso degli Scienziati 
Europei," as if anxious even in that occur- 
rence to avoid all allusion to an Italian asso- 

Yet the strongest opposition to literary 
unity in Italy is, as we have seen, to be ap- 
prehended from the obstinacy of the Papal 
government. The Pope alone, it will be re- 
membered — for we consider the Duke of 
Modena as a non-entity--H:efused counte- 
nance to that Italian or European Congress 

of Pisa. Gregory XVI. is now pursuing a 
system of policy which is likely to eive a 
better opimon of the strength of his charac- 
ter than of the soundness of his understand- 
ing. Disturbed by political commotions on 
the veiy day of his elevation to the chair of 
St Peter, he has been ever «ince violently 
struggling to secure his rebellious provinces 
in his grasp. He has mustered troops around 
the Vatican, he has garrisoned the towns of 
Romagna with many thousand horse and foot 
soldiery, as different from the loose and 
clumsy bands that were once proverbially 
called '' Soldati del Papa," as a flock of tame 
geese fit>m the pilgrims of the air with which 
diey claim their Undred. This pa]^ arma- 
ment is yet far from being a sufficient sujp- 
port to the Pope. The spirit of sedition is 
spreading fast among their ranks, and the 
garrisons on the norSiem side of the Apen- 
nines, whence danger is chiefly to be appre- 
hended, are quite ready to espouse the cause 
of the malcontents. The newspapers have 
given alarming accounts of the ^ects that 
the first rumours of war had on that priest- 
ridden population. The Roman police, well 
aware of this disposition, take care to keep 
the minds of the people in a constant agita- 
tion by frequent arrests, generally of a sud- 
den and mysterious nature, which scarcely ' 
allow the most innocent citizen in the papal 
dominions to rest tranquilly under his roof. 
A startling effect has been produced in the 
country by the unlocked for imprisonment 
of Signor Enrico Mayer of Leghorn, a man 
fiivouiubly known, in England no less than 
in his own countiy, for his eminent talents 
and high character, and for whose misfortune 
no one was able to account, unless by sup- 
posing that the Pope, like the Athenian who 
voted for the ostracism of Aristides, was 
weary of hearing him spoken of as the most 
virtuous of men. 

The Grand Duke of Tuscany, importuned 
by supplications and remonstrances, made 
some semblance of interfering in behalf of 
his subject, and, as we learn from private 
letters, the police at Rome was sensible that 
they had ventured too frir, so that M. Mayer 
was liberated fix>m the Castel St. Angelo, 
and sent to Leghorn in a government vessel. 
The Grand Duke, however, can scarcely 
censure the Pope's arbitrary conduct, at least 
if he had any part in the indecorous search 
made by his sbirri at Leghorn, in Guerraz^ 
zi's cellar, for the manuscript of his " As- 
sedio di Firenze," a novel, which, in spite of 
the vigilance of the authorities, was already 
freely circulating in every town of Tuscany. 

While the Pope and cardinals are thus 
entirely engrossed by the worldly bares of 


Copyright in Italy. 


their temporal government, religious tolera- 
tion and freedom have made some progress 
in the north of Italy and Tuscany. 

A new and handsome building for the ser- 
vice of the English Church has been erected 
at Leghorn. Protestant service in Italian is 
peribrmed, once every three weeks at the 
Swiss chapels, both in that town and in the 
capital. A new translation of the Bible has 
been announced by the Societa Editrice Fi- 
orentina on a very cheap plan of publication. 
The Oxford edition of Diodati's Italian Bible 
is freely offered for sale in every book-stall in 
Tuscany, the police wisely and liberally 
winking at the open infraction of its regula- 
tions. Conversions to Protestantism, though 
rare, are occasionally heard of. A young 
couple at Leghorn, whose marriage the Pope 
refused to sMiction on account of their rela- 
tionship, were married by the Swiss Pro- 
testant minister, and continue to join his con- 
gregation without molestation on the part of 
goivemment, or, much less, censure d[ public 

The Grand Duke of Tuscany, wiser on 
this account than the King of Sardinia, who 
seems to shrink from no violent and arbitrary 
measure, seems determined to rely on the in- 
fluence of example to enforce religious devo- 
tion. Always acting a prominent part in all 
religious ceremonies, and fearing lest the zeal 
of his people for their old saints might in this 
age of scepticism relax, he contrived to intro- 
duce a new saint into the calendar, who, un- 
der the protection of his pious Neapolitan 
Grand Duchess, created a temporary but 
lively sensation in Florence. 

Every one has heard of the virtues and 
mirscles of Santa Philomela, whose history 
has been made known to the world through 
the visions and revelations of a highly-gifted 
Neapolitan priest, who brought her relics 
from the Roman catacombs under special 
grant of the Pontiff, and erected himself into 
a minister of her altar and interpreter of her 

In consequence however of prevailing in- 
credulity, or perhaps in accordance with the 
ancient adage ^'that no prophet is heeded in 
his own country," the new saint was but 
coldly welcomed at Naples, and would soon 
have been lost in the crowd of deities of the 
Catholic Olympus, had she not found favour 
in the tender heart of the betrothed princess, 
who brought the little idol — an uidieard-of 
dowry — to her future lord and husband in 
Tuscany. Everything was soon made ready 
for Philomela's apotheosis. Priests and monks 
were made to preach up the young martyr's 
wonderful history. The effigy of the little 
goddess for which, it is said, a beautifiil pros- 

voL. XXVI. 22 

titute — ^most probably a modello — sat, was 
exhibited at the church of the Santa Annun- 
ciata, and the most notorious haunts of old- 
fashioned superstition were deserted for her 
sake. It was soon evident, however, that the 
charm of fashion and novelty alone attracted 
the curious Florentines to the new shrine. 
Times are, even in Tuscany, deplorably 
averse to modem canonisation, and the old 
saints need no trifling exertion to keep 
their seats. So that, edfter a short interval, 
scarcely any one in Florence seemed to have 
any recollection of the saint that had driven 
them mad, always excepting the meek and 
gentle Grand IhichesB, who, during her last 
confinement, never lost sight of her par 
troness, and with true maternal devotion 
christened her new-bom child with her 

No one has, however, reason to wonder 
that Santa Philomela is looked upon with 
more lasting attachment by the sovereigns 
than by the people of Italy, if we credit the 
assertion of Father Gatteschi, who, in a ser- 
mon publicly delivered at Florence, confi- 
dently attributed the extinction of all revolu- 
tionary attempts in 1831 and the restoration 
of peace, not to the timely interference of 
Austrian bayonets, but to the intercession of 
the loyal saint. 

Nor are these the only religious efforts by 
which the Grand Duke of Tuscany is striving 
to counteract the perversity of the people, or 
at least of the enlightened classes who seem 
inclined to wish for a reform of the most ab- 
surd superstitions of the church of Rome. 
He has surrounded, or, at least, according to 
an ancient and general practice, he has al- 
lowed the priests to surround even Ms impe- 
rial and ro3ral lottery with the august appa- 
ratus of religious ceremony. The lottery, a 
system of kingly munificence and innocent 
popular amusement, of which the worldly 
wisdom of French and English legislators has 
deprived the people, is in full vigour in all 
the Italian states, but nowhere is it kept up 
in all its splendour as under the auspices of 
the Grand Duke, who is said to derive from 
it an annual income of several millions of 
Florentine lire. That system of utter isola- 
tion, which opposes in Tuscany even the 
establishment of a stage-coach to Rome or 
Bologna, is however laid aside with the pro- 
vident view to give the Tuscan people the 
chances of a Roman extraction. Every trick 
and delusion is resorted to that can allure the 
ignorant people to the hotteghino. Pam- 
phlets and volumes are published intended to 
direct the inexperienced in their interpreta- 
tion of omens and dreams. Such books need 
not fear the frowns of censorship, while worbp 


Copyright in Italy, 


intended for the suppreflsion of this voluntary 
tax — ^witness, a popular poem written on that 
subject by Enrico Mayer, which could only 
be published at Lugano — are strictly for- 
bidden. A scaffold is erected under the Por- 
tico degli UfSzi, decked so as to resemble 
either a temple or stage. The GonfalcHiiere 
and other officers are in attendance, and a 
priest in hi^ robes is summoned to invoke the 
blessings of heaven, and to sprinkle holy 
water on the urn on which the hopes of the 
ccmfiding multitude are centred. 

It can no longer be a matter of wonder 
that a people whose morab the government 
t^es such care to improve should need no 
more severe restraint than the mild and be- 
nignant laws for which the code of Peter 
Leopold has been long celebrated. The 
Tuscans are a gay inoffensive people : it is of 
them that as early as the middle of the fif- 
teenth century Lorenzo de Medici said (to 
quote Alfieri's words :) 

'' La scure in Roma 
Silla adopr5, ma qui la verga ^ troppo — 
A far tremarli delta voce io basto." 

Yet petty transgressions, and at times even 
startling crimes, are not unheard of even in 
peaceful Florence ; and Leghorn, time out 
of . mind the refuge of vagabonds from aU 
the ports of the Mediterranean, continues' 
to be what it has often been called — a den 
of rogues. It certainly sounds very pleasant 
to boast of the good effect of easy and lenient 1 
laws, when it is not safe to be out of doors : 
after dusk, and it is easy to point exultingly 
at empty jails and moas-grown gibbets, when 
pick-pockets and cut-throats are seen walk- 
m g about in perfect security. 

We have stated these facts to show that 
we were not blind to the evils with which 
even the happiest parts of Italy are afflicted, 
though we deemed it an act of justice to 
attribute them for the most part to what 
Alferi calls her often wicked, always im- 
provident governments. We have dwelt 
on topics apparently extraneous to our sub- 
ject, in order to enable our readera to see 
what obstacles oppose in that country every 
attempt at social amelioration, and we insist- 
ed the more on our account of the moral 
condition of Tuscany, as few even of our 
optimists entertain very favourable opbions 
of the Austrian or Sardinian governments, 
whereas the smiles of a Tuscan police officer, 
or, at the most, a ticket of admission to a 
court ball, has often proved so mighty a 
spell to dazzle the judgment of some fashion- 
able tourists that their reminiscences of Tus- 
cany have all the glow of a description of 
the Pays de Cocagne. Tuscany, where 

criminal debates have only yesterday been 
opened to the public, whilst such a practice 
has been in vigour at Parma and Naples ever 
since the Restoration ! 

The establishment of copyright in Italy, 
besides the obvious effect it will have of en- 
couraging the production and diffuaicm of 
the worlu of genius, will also greatly con- 
tribute to bring about that literary unity 
which the most zealous patriots have nitherto 
vainly endeavoi-ed to promote. The Italians 
seem, after so long a lesson of hard*w(m ex- 
perience, to be finally made aware that the 
calamities of foreign vassalage, as well as 
their state of social and moral degeneration, 
are to be principally ascribed to that fatal 
spirit of division which they inherited from 
the municipal dissensions and jealousies of 
their forefathers in the middle ages, and 
which the usurpers of their republican 
liberties never afterwards ceased to foment. 
Not, indeed, that the resentment of repub- 
lican grudges, or even the narrow-minded 
feeling of mutual mistrust and contempt 
between the different provinces, can be said 
to exist to any great extent, in our days, 
whatever may be the notions of prejudiced 
travellers on the subject. But the Italians 
have so long been estranged fix>m each other, 
the name of their country has been so long 
buried in oblivion, their local interests have 
been so artfully directed into different and 
opposite channels, that their patriotic ideas — 
we speak of the unenligli^ned classes — 
have still something vagu« and undetermined ; 
the natural boundaries of the country seem 
to shift from one district to another, so as to 
induce the traveller to conclude that, 
geographically as well as politically, there 
is no Italy. 

Thus the Piedmontese still call the eastern 
road " Strada d'ltalia," and the Neapolitan 
points to the north to what he improperly 
calls ^'L'alta Italia" — Piedmont and Lom- 
bardy — ^and the inhabitants of those provin- 
ces are by him designated by the appellation 
of Italians. It cannot be denied, moreover, 
that the different provinces have reached a 
higher degree of civilisatipn in proportion as 
they were more favourably situated ; that 
there have been f jcts — such as the insurrec- 
tion of 1820, and the naval expedition to 
Tripoli — which, uncharitably judged of from 
the event, have reflected on the military 
character of the Neapolitans a disgrace, 
which the Lombards and Piedmontese, proud, 
as they have perhaps some reason to 
be, of the laurels they reaped during the 
Napoleonian campaigns, are less inclined, 
even for the sake of nationality, to share. 

This ugly stain of cowardice, by which 


Copyright in Italy, 


rary works published at Turin are a mifli- 
cient evidence of their steadiness of purpose. 
The vocabularies of the Venetian, Sicilian, 
and of almost every other Italian patois^ 
printed with a view to aid the people in their 
acquirement of the written language, and the 
republications of Italian dictionaries at Bo- 
logna, Verona, Naples, and Padua, announce 
a new ^t, about which foreigners never 
entertained a doubt, but which Imd, however, 
never been sufficiently established since the 
age of Dante : — ^that there is an Italian lan- 

The annual meeting of eminent scientific 
men at one of the several universities of the 
country, of which the second session has 
been lately held under the patronage of his 
Sardinian majesty, at Turin, will have a most 
salutary effect on the progress of science, by 
enabling the most active scholars to meet, to 
understand and mutually appreciate and en- 
courage each other by the assurance of the 
reward of national suffrage which awaits the 
result of their efforts at every reunion of that 
kind of scientific diet.* 

* Wo thought it might be agreeable to our read- 
errt tu have some parliculara of the first of those 

the liaMiui name has been so freely branded 
by foreigners, has given full scope to the 
witticisms of Von Raumer, who has been 
anxious to collect the idle bon mots of worth- 
less monarchs, such as the " fuggiranno sem- 
pre" of Charles Felix of Sardinia, and the 
" son Napolitano anch'io" of Ferdinand IV. 
of Naples, and who might be asked whether 
the Italians fled at Raab and Malojaroslavetz, 
under Eugene Beauhamois or Murat 1 But 
it is remarkable that in our age, when the 
example of Napoleon showed how soldiers 
could be made out of every nation, and of 
the vilest recruits, when every political sign 
seems to point to a universal peace, dnd mar- 
tial prowess is likely to become a quality of 
the least consequence, — so much stress should 
be laid on the aptitude of any nation for war, 
and the Italians or Neapolitans should be so 
unexceptionally stigmatized as an unwarlike 
and dastardly race. 

To efface from the mind of the people 
these last remnants of illiberal provincialisms, 
which they think are rather fostered by igno- 
rance than by ill-will, the intelligent classes 
in Italy are actively employed; and they 
think nothing can be, in peaceful times, more 

directly conducive to that happy result than scionlific meclingsr of which we have received the 
the assimilation of their national language — j rrport, published under the inspection of the 

the centralisation of science and literature— ' secrctary.crr.ncral at Pisa in August last 

J ., •! .. r xi- !-• A r au ' 1 he hfjnoiir of havmg first promoted this impor. 

and the compilation of the history of the ta..i. as^ocailon i. due to six eminent gentlemen re. 
country. l siding at Florence — the Prince Carlo Bonaparte, the 

To bring about the reform, enfranchise- Comrucndaioro V:ncen2o Antinori, the Cav. Prof, 
ment and diffusion of the national language, l Amici an eminent man of science, and an exile 
*U^ «»^^^<, r^f P<^^:^«»: M^»«: rl^^ ^A 1 '"»"™ ^"^ Dncliy of Modena, m consequence of the 

the works of Pertican, Monti, Cesan, and- ^^^.^^j^^^i^,,^,. 1^31. the Cav. Gaeiano GiorKini, the 

many other philological Wnters, have, smce ProfcMSorH Paolo Savi and Maarizo Bufalini. a re. 
the beginning of the nineteenth century, , nowncd phy^iieian. The permission of publishing 

mainly contributed, when they hastened theja" invitation to the* literati of Italy, and to hold 
dowofal of ttot old edifice of pedant.7 by L^;r„a''^liXeXoM n^^rM^a^^^^^^^^^^^ 

which the Academy Delia Lrusca had 1 BeA^rc the first day of October 421 gamnta had 
brought the Italian language to a dead stand. I arrived at Pi^a, and were inscribed as members of 
TheTuSCanS have recovered from their pro- ^^^ congreR«. Admission was granted only to the 

— :«-:..i ^.^:»j:^^^ « i «,«^ «.:ii:».. *^ ..jtv^u I members of the faculty, nr to those that could prc- 

iicnt their diploma as having received the degrcej* of 
A. M. in any of the European universities. The 
diffimmt colleges, academies, and other learned 
institutions of alt Italy — those of the Papal ntatcH 
always excepted — sent their representatives. Many 
of the Italian and foreign savants, among others, 
Ilcruchcl and Babbage from England, sent their 
letters of thanks and their excuse:*. 

The first day wan fpent in religious ceremonies. 
Bigh masR was celebrated in the cathedral of Pisa : 
in the afternoon the members proceeded to the 
election of their president. The choice unanimous. 
ly fell on Signor Rainieri Gcrhi, the senior profes- 
sor of the philosophical faculty at Pisa, a man well 
known in his country for his works on natural phi- 
losophy. The venerable president did not live to 
sei! the anniversary of his elevation to his dignity ; 
he died only a few months after the first meeting 
was over, in December, 1839. aged scventy.six. 

The president next app(nnted as his secretary, 
general the Professor F. Corridi. On the sceond 
day the members of the congress proceeded to the 
election of the presidents of the sections into which 

vincial prejudices, and are willing to admit, 
that, by assiduous study and superior culture, 
Italian can be written or spoken at Turin and 
Naples as purely and elegantly as on the 
baidcs of the Amo. On the other side, the 
Lombard and Roman universities, no less 
than the primary and infant schools, recently 
disseminated wherever they did not, as at 
Rome, meet with a strong opposition on the 
part of the governments, have left nothing 
unattempted to bring the uncouth dialects 
to the level of the best Tuscan standard. 
The Piedmontese above all, who, by their 
immediate contact with France, and by the 
example of their bastard court of Savoy, 
knew in the time of Alfieri no human lan- 
guage but French, have, by a laudable effort 
of unanimous wiU, laboured to vindicate their 
Italian origin, and the copious supply of lite- 


Copyright tn Italy. 


The labours of the ^' Deputazione Reale,'' 
of Turin, and similar private associations in 
other cities, have already powerfully contri- 

the meeting was to be dividedy and thciir choice 
wu fixed upon the following gentlemen ; — 

Sect. I. Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Mathe- 
matics. — Pres. Cav. Prof. Configliachi. 

H. Geology, Mineralogy, (ieography.-^Pres. 
Prof. Siemonda. 

III. Botany, and Vegetable Physiology. — Prcs. 
Prof. Savi. 

IV. Zoology and. CompArativo Anatomy. — 
Pres. PriDO. Bonaparte. 

V. Agronomy and Technology. — Prea. March. 
VI. Medicine. — Ftcs, Cav. Proa. Tommasini. 

On tho same day, October 2, took place a public 
flolemnity in honour of Galileo, the greatest of 
Italian philosophers, born, as it is well known, at 
Pka, and who held for some time the chair of pro. 
fenor of mathematics in that city. The whole as- 
Sociation of the Italian Mivanta assembled in the 
couft-yard of the university, where they attended 
the ceremony of inanguration of a colossal statue 
of that illustrioiis man, the work of a Pisan sculptor, 
Demi, which was on that day first exhibited. At 
the moment that noble monument was first opened 
to the public gaze. Professor Rosin i recited an 
oration in praise of Galileo. 

The discourse of the learned professor, and a very 
able engraving of the statue, are to be found in the 
report of the secretary, to which we have alluded 
above. We have seen the statue at Pisa, and glad- 
ly joined in ttie universal applause with which it 
was first received, though we think that its situation 
is far from being favourable to the sculptor's per- 

On the third day the first solemn assembly took 
place in the hall of the university. In the midst 
of a large crowd of the learned of Italy and all 
other countries, the aristocracy of the mind of all 
Europe, cheered by the presence of many of the fair 
soz, the aged president delivered an oration on a 
subject well suited to the occasion — the influence 
that Italy had in all ages on the promotion and 
prmrress of science. 

This was of course a repetition of the great 
claims of Galileo and his illustrious school of Vivi- 
ani, Toricelli, Redi, Castelli, Magalotti, and others, 
on tho gratitude of posterity. The lecturer dwelt 
with peculiar fondness on the successful labours of 
the short-lived but illustrious academies **dei Lincei** 
at Rome, and *' del Cimento" at Florence. Henoo 
he proceeded to trace the progress of physical sci- 
ences m the following ages, and paid due tribute of 
honour to the memory of such men as Cassini, 
Cavalieri, Piazzi, Mascheroni, Paoli, Mascagni, 
Scarpa, Vaocl^ Volta, Nobili, and of the still living 
and flourishing Libri, Melloni, Orioli, Rasori, Tom- 
maaini, etc., endeavouring to demonstrate that sci- 
ence in Italy is certainly neither in a backward nor 
yet a stationary condiiion. 

The oration being at its close, the members then 
present voted that a deputation should be sent to 
the Grand Duke, with solemn Uianks for the muni- 
ficence and benignity with which he was pleased 
to countenance their association with his royal 
patronage. Equal thanks were fiven to the muni, 
cipal authorities of Pisa, and to the IVince Charles 
Bonaparte, the first promoter of the meeting. 

It was then voted that an equal meeting should 
take place in the month of October, next year at 
Turin, and that the second anniversary should be 

buted to illustrate the national anmls^ by 
publishing such historical materials as th^ 
" Monumenta Historis Patriae," the ^ Docu- 

celebrated in Florence. We hear, however, that 
these dispositions have been partly altered, and that 
the congress of October, 1841, in compliance with 
the wiMes of tho members from Lorobardy, is 
to be held at the University of Padua. 

On the fourth day, the six sections for the first 
time withdrew to their several apartments. Each 
of them held eight sessions during tho days— 4, 5, 
6, 9, 10, 11, la, 14. 

Two other general assemblies were held ; one on 
tlie 8th, in which several papers of considerable 
importance were read by some of the most con- 
spicuous members, and the last on the 1 5th, in 
which tiA secretaries of each eession read the result 
of their proceedings, and the secretary-general gave 
a report of all the transactions which had taken 
place since the first opening of the congress, and 
afterwards promulgated the regulations that were 
to be observed by Sie members during their future 
reunions. The meeting was finally dissolved by 
another oration of the president. 

His Royal Highness the Grand Duke Leopold II. 
honoured the last assembly with his august presence, 
and repeatedly attended the meetings of all the dif- 
ferent sections. He was everywhere received with 
thundering applause — so easy is it for a prince, 
whenever he chooses, to acquire popularity. 

The Grand Duke did not fail also, daring his 
stay at Pisa,^to invite the presidents and secretariee, 
and the most distinguished members of every sec- 
tion, to join his dinner party ; and on the 10th he 
ordered a public banquet for all tho members of the 
congress, and all distinguished strangers, to be given 
in his royal palace, where the sovereign's health 
and his royal family's, tho good city of Pisa, and the 
universityt were proposed, and received with the 
most enthusiastic cheers. 

Similar banquets were equally celebrated evcTj 
day at the expense of the community of Pisa and of 
the members of the congretis, for tlie entertainment 
ef distinguished guests of both sexes. 

Every evening tlie library of tho university was 
opened for a literary conversazione. Among other 
agreeable topics of friendly intercoorsu, the famous 
traveller Professor Rosellini entertained his col. 
leagues with lively descriptions of the remote re. 
gions he had visited. 

The good old melancholy town of Pisa dressed 
herself m her gayest attire to welcome her illostri- 
ons visitors. Among other spectacles by which the 
grave pursuits of the learned wcro enlivened, the 
most interesting proved to be the *' Pallio dellc 
fregate,** a kind of regatta on the Amo, celebrated 
with extraordinary pomp and splendour — an anetent 
popular amusement, now for the first lime revived 
in Pisa, since the palmy days of that jlUfated re- 
public. Had not tho dangers attendant on that 
manly exhibition been too much in contradiction 
with the peaceful object <if that scientific congress, 
the Pisana could have afibrded their guests a more 
stirring spectacle by their ** Battaglia del Ponte.'* 

Before taking leave nf each otheri some only for 
a twelvemonth, some for life, the members of tlie 
scientific cimgress voted that a Latin inscription 
should be placed in the hall of tho Sapienrnm, in com- 
memoration of the happy event of their first ineet. 
ing, and another on the entrance of the leaninj^ 
tower of the cathedral, to inform foreign visitors that 
from the height of that fine monument of art, Gali- 
leo made his first experiments on the gravity of 


Copyrighi in Italy, 


menti di Stoiia Ittliana," and the '^ Belaziom 
de^ Ambasciatori Veneti," recently printed 
in Rednuxil and Tuscany. 

But the privilege of copyright, which, after 
the example set by the master of masters, 
the Lombardo-Venetian government, must 
eventually triumph over the scruples of his 
Holiness, and of every other opponent, is to 
be the soul of every titerary enterprise. It 
will bring the interests of the different petty 
literary centres of Turin, Milan, Venice, 
Florence, Parma, &c., to a common under- 
standing, secure the free circulation, at least, 
of all the works published in the country, 
whilst the increase of daily, weekly, and 
monthly periodicals, will hasten and extend 
their dSSusion and lay the basis of a univer- 
sal Italian bibliography. By the combined 
influence of all these agents, science and 
literature will be brou^ to such a state of 
concord and unity as it now exists in Gei^ 
many — ^that country, which, in its political 
cxxndition, Italy most closely resembles. De- 
prived of the dignity and privilege, and 
equally free from the cares and bujndens of 
Hie so envied and so dearly paid for political 
existence of France and England, the minor 
states of Italy and Germany have leisure to 
turn their active and enterprising minds to 

They ordered also that a medal should be struck 
in honour of the g^reat philosopher, an engraving of 
which is also given in the ** /\tti della Prima Ru 
unione,'* etc. 

The medal represents on one side the head of 
Gralileo ; on the other, the four wonderful edifices 
of republican Pisa, the Cathedral, the Baptistery, 
the Campanile and Campo Santo, with the follow. 
ing ineoriptioD :— 







It may perhaps appear that too preat an impor- 
tmnce has been attached to an event which in itself 
is of so little consequence to the rest of Europe ; 
but if we reflect that this is the first time that the 
Italians of every province have been called together 
even for so innocent a pnrpoTO, we shall be able 
better to sympathize with so exaggerated a demon- 
stration of enthusiasm. 

The first time, we say, ever sioce that famous 
phoenix of geniuses, Pico della Mirandola, moved 
oy immoderate thirst Ibr fame, published at Rome 
in 1486, his daring challenge to the learned of Eu- 
rope/ promising to maintain his 900 *' conolusiones,*' 
or subjecls for scientifical controversy, against all 
opponents whatever, when he caused his proposi- 
tions to be circulated throughout Italv, and offered 
to defray out of his own purse the travelling ex- 
penses of every scholar who accepted hischaliengo. 
But calumny and persecution arose against the 
accomplished champion — he was accused of heresy 
— ^the meeting never took place— and he had to 
fight for it against the Church of Rome during all 
the rest of his life ! 

the hamer pursuits of letters, science and 
art. I^or do we believe that the creative 
powers of that southern land of genius would 
be yet so utterly exhausted, as to yield with* 
out a struggle the supremacy of literature to 
her transalpine neighbour, but for that un- 
generous system of constraint, division and 
suspicion by which the Italian governments 
have hitherto endeavoured to stand forth as 
the champions of ignorance, and which, in 
presence of the broad day-light glaring over 
the meridian of Europe, seems now happily 
forced to give way. 

It would be a manifest injustice to deny 
that the Austro-Italian police have hitherto 
been guilty of the most ne&rious no less 
than gratmtous attempts against the real 
advantages of literature ; and of such abus- 
es, the new decree establishing the right 
of literary property, ought, we believe, 
to prevent the recurrence. It is painful 
to hear, for instance, by what scrupulous 
inquisitorial tyranny the efforts of the wor* 
thy Niccold Bettoni for a compilation of 
a ^^Biblioteca Storica'" have been to a con- 
siderable degree frustrated ; because the his- 
tory of Botta could not be printed, nor those 
of Macchiavelli, Guicciardini, Giannone, re- 
published at Milan, without the most vital 
mutilations; notwithstanding the numerous 
previous editions freely circulating throu^- 
out the country, and the new republication 
contemporaneously issuing from the press of 
Molini at Florence. In the like manner ^* £t- 
tore Fieramosca," and **Le mie Prigioni," 
were freely printed and sold at Turin, and 
strictly prohibited at Milan. The *^As- 
sedio di Firenze " was received without op- 
position at Naples, but was strictly proscribed 
at Florence, and put to the Index at Rome. 
The Italian despots did not even agree in 
their system of oppression, or mther they 
were sometimes pleased to flatter their sub- 
jects by a little display of comparative mild- 
ness, and indulge in ihe specious iUusion of 
their precarious independence. But the equi- 
table intercourse of literary commerce, ne- 
cessarily attendant upcm a mutual guarantee 
of copjrright, will soon bring a beneficial 
uniformity in the police regulations of the 
different states, and the Italians are not, per^ 
haps, too sanguine in their expectation, if 
they hope that the decree on literary property 
may be considered as a first step towards the 
establishment of a moderate freedom of the 

A higher tone of daring opinion and free 

discussion, is already, we believe, apparent 

in some of the periodicals that enjoy the 

greatest degree of popularity, especially the 

rProgtesK?' of Naples, and the "Rivista 


Copjffight in Italy, 


Burqpet" fit Mikn. it it a nehachoiy 
^eotiicle to see how maay evasive, elusive 
devices those unhappy writen are oorapeiied 
to resort to, in order to bafiie the WBtchM* 
iieas, the obstinacy, the extravagance of these 
ignorant turokeys of public opinion ! 

Meanwhile, Italy is now, or has already 
been, prematurely reaping the fiiiits of tha^ 
literary union whidi uie perseverance of her 
people has wirenched from the hands of her 
governments. Besides those historical pub* 
Ucations which we have mentioned above, 
and which could- not have been sent into light 
without some indulgence and latitude on the 
part of the censor ; we have before us the ' 
announcement of several vast and important 
undertakings, which only a few years ago 
would have appeared utterly impracticable 
in Italy ; at the head of these editorial labours 
is the Societa Editrice Fiorentina, to which, 
as we have said, the country is greatly in- 
debted for the newly obtained establishment 
of copyright. This society offers to the pub- 
lic in twenty-four laige volumes in quarto, 
the '^ Monumenti del Crenio Letterario d'ogni 
Nazione," a work which is to embrace tiie 
standard productions of every age and coun- 
try. The first volume, according to the good 
maxim ** ab Jove principium," is to be a new 
translation of the Bible, lately undertaken by 
an eminent and liberal divine at Florence. 

A second and equally gigantic enterprise 
of the editing society is the ^^BibUoteca 
Storica," of which the translations c^ Leo, 
Niebuhr, Prescott, and Macintosh, are al- 
ready announced as a first series of publica- 
tions. The same society is also preparing 
the material for a universal Cyclc^edia on a 
larger scale than any in existence. Equally 
important, if not equally voluminous works 
are also in progress under the successors of 
Bettoni, at Milan, at the "Tipografia del 
Grondoliere," in Venice, and at the printing 
establishment of Pomba, at Turin. Cesare 
Cantu, a poet of some reputation in Lom- 
bardy, has ventured on a new work on uni- 
versal history, which is likely to engage his 
attention during all his lifetime. Niccolini, 
the greatest of living tragedians, has also aban- 
doned the drama for a very important work 
on the history of the house of Swabia ; and 
Rosini, a successful novelist, has changed the 
lively style of romantic narrative for the 
more serious task of a history of painting. 

Everywhere this preponderance of grave 
and useful pursuits over the works of ima- 
gination, is observable in Italy. It seems as 
if the natural fecundity of that gifted land 
were for the third time exhausted, as it was 
evidently the case in the fifteenth and seven- 
teenth centuries ; when national poetry and 

eloquence was either plunged into a deqp 
rieep, or oorrapted by extravagance and bom* 
bast, to give way in the first instence to the 
classical researches of Braociolini and Valla ; 
in the second to the physical discoveries of 
the school of Galileo. It seems as if to every 
age of active and creative life, a period of 
compacative repose must necessarily earae, 
to be oonseciated to the toils of erudition, to 
prepare the soil on which, in more fortunate 
circumstances, a new vegetation is to ger* 
minate. Such an epoch of rest and transi- 
tion Italy has reached in our days, and the 
efibits of the schdars of that country seem 
rather directed to search into the monumente 
of the past, to collect materials for the future, 
than to provide for the wants of the present 

Meanwhile it is the duty of every honest 
fiiend of hVunanity to send a word of sympar 
thy and encouragement to a people placed 
in so strangely different a situation from our 
own land of ft-eedom; a people where the. 
meeting of a few pro^sors and scholars, or a 
convenient provision for the inviolability of 
literary proper^, is hailed as a naticmal tri- 
umph, and made a subject of universal re» 

But it is not literary commerce alone that 
suffers in Italy from the fetters of a jealom, 
pusillanimous, short-sighted despotism. The 
irksome vexations to which every traveller is 
subjected at every distance of twenty or thirty 
miles ; the passport, the douane, and octrois, 
and, at times, the long^protracted quarantine ; 
the complicated systems of coin, weight and 
measure, the absurd and contradictory laws, 
navigation acts, and police regulations ; the 
negligence, the tardiness, and not unfre- 
quently the shameless bad fidth of the post- 
ofiice ,* the rare, slow and imperfect condition 
of commercial conveyances, engender a uni- 
versal discouragement, an apathy, a UsUess- 
ness, which is rather too hastily ascribed to a 
natural indolence of the people. The moat 
active mind feels confined, and, as ' it were, 
dwindles within the close boundaries of those 
petty states. It sinks under the conscious- 
ness of its insufficiency. It yields before the 
well-experienced invincibility of the obsta- 
cles it has to contend with. It is thus that 
trade, industry and even agriculture are, at 
the best, stationary in Italy, especially in the 
smaller states, in this age of European pro- 
gress ; nor is there any hope of durable ame- 
lioration, unless the governments are prompt- 
ed by their own interests to come to a gener- 
ous understanding, and establish a commerciaL, 
as they have been obliged to sanction a liter- 
ary and scientific, confederacy. 

Meanwhile the vsun-glorious menaces and 
bravadoes of France, and the sudden rumours 


Engraving — ^ncum and Modem, — Part /. 


of war, faftve found the ItaUana^ even 9iba 
80 long a echoed of fond illuflion, thoiigb di»> 
enchanted from their ialae c(»iceptiona) still 
ready to lend a willing ear to new deception 
and perfidy $ and thousendf of well-meaning 
hearts have beaten with ttansport at the first 
bc^ of foreign invasion. It would be vain 
to deny the &ct, that even the soundest minds 
in Italy, notwithstanding the contrary sen- 
tence oi Von Raumer, think that under no 
change Italy can ever fere worse than under 
the rule of Austria and her worthless lieu- 
tenants. Let the Italian governments look 
well to it, lest, when the invader draws near, 
and they appeal to the feelings of the nation 
for support in their struggle, they be answered 
in the words of the beast of burden in the 
&ble, ^^ The French cannot force us to cany 

amaoB of engraved chaiactan upon copper 
plates coeval with the seventh century of our 
era. These, are called in the country ^' cop 
per leaf," and some of them are found to 
contain certain privileges ^ven by the na- 
tives to the earbest Christians. Many are 
contracts entered into for conveying grants of 
land. They are curiously connected by 
laige copper rings joined together by irn* 
mense round seals of lead having characters 
stamped at the bottom.* Egypt, whose anti- 
quities have been so successfiilly explored, 
everywhere gives evidence of the labours of 
the graver, and as early as the 18th dynasty, 
during the reign of Amosia, or about 1575 
B. C. (four years after the birth of Moses), 
hierogljrphics and various devices were com- 
monly engraved by the Egyptians on their 
glass vases and beads. Sir J. G. Wilkinson 
mentions one of these latter being found by 
Capt. Henvey, R. N., at Thebes, which had 
engraved on it a kin^s name who lived 
at the period of 1500, B. C. At that early 
age the manufacture of glass was carried to 
Art. IV. — 1. ^nleilung zur Kupfor-^Stich" \ great perfection. Not only was it employed 
kunde. By Adam Bertsch. 8vo. Vien- in manufacturing articles for the social pur- 
na. 1822. poses of life, but also to a great extent in the 

2. History and Practice of Photogenic : imitation of precious stones. 

Drawing, on the trtu Principles of the , The power the ancients possessed of dif- 
Daguerriotype, with a new Method of Di- fusing colours into their glass was very great ; 
oramic Painting, Secrets purchased by the and some of our readers will perhaps recol- 
French Grovemment and by command lect the curious account given by the learned 
published /or the benefit of Arts and Winkelman, of a piece of glass not quite an 
Manufactures, by the Inventor, L. S. Da- inch in length, and about a third of an inch 
guerre, Officer of the Legion of Honour, in breadth, which exhibited, on a dark and 
and Member of various Academies. Lon- variegated ground, a bird similar to a duck, 
don. 1839. , with plumage of the most bright and varied 

3. Excursions Daguerriennes ; collection colours, formed by the alternate introduction 
de 50 planches, represeniant les Vues et of opaque and transparent glass — a remarka- 
les Monuments les plus remarquables du ble circumstance was, that on the reverse 
Globe, Paris. 1840. [ was the same figure, and so exactly similar 

in all its delicate pencillings to the other, that 
Amongst the various arts which have been Winkelman could only suppose that the col- 
practised by man, and which have tended to ours were infused through die entire piece. 
his civilisation and welfare, engraving has the The Chinese have ever been celebrated fcM- 
earliest claims to antiquity. It has been , their patient ingenuitv in the more ancient 
handed down to us from the remotest ages, ' practice of the art. They exemplified their 
the earliest specimens being in the form of skill and industry, not only in the hardest 
engraved gems and signets, ornaments closely ' materials, but in hollowinir out perfect bottles 
aUied with ancient royalty. The stones usu- \ from rock crystal of about two inches in 
ally used for these were cornelian, chalcedony, . length, and. through the very small opening 
jacinth, onyx, and sard ; to these we may and ' in the neck they engraved minute and deli- 
opal, beryl, and emerald. It would naturally < cate characters in the inside, so as to be read 
happen that the country whose soil yielded 
these riches would be the one to take the 
earliest opportunity for exercising such an 
art, and India, that knd of precious stones, , 
was considered the first country to set the 
example. Not only is this country rich in 
engraved signets and talismans, but we have 
in the Royal Asiatic Society remaikable spe- 

through the crvstal. 

A curious circumstance is mentioned by 

• For a curious and interesiinp acconnt of the 
last, which were *ent ovrr by Dr. Burnn of the 
Bombay Medical Sorvicc, we refer o«r rcadcni to 
the 7th volume of tlm Calcutta Journal, published 
in that city. 


Engravrng-^-^^neient and Modem. — Pmi /• 


Sir J. G. WilkinsoD, of some Chinese bottles 
being found in the tombs of Thebes, mingled 
with othera of native manufectuig. They are 
made of a kind of porcelain, about two inches 
high, one side presenting a flower, and on 
the other an inscription, which, in two of 
them, consists of five characters — mingy yue^ 
soongj ckoongy chaau ; which is a line taken 
from one of the poets, and has the pretty in- 
terpretation of ^'the bright moon shines 
amidst the firs." On the other was a differ- 
ent inscription, " The flower opens, and lo ! 
another year." The tombs in which these 
were found were of the earlier djrnasty of 
Thothmes III., who reigned about the time 
of Joseph. How great a proof, therefore,' is 
this of the early attention which the Chinese 
paid to the cultivation of various arts. 

We need not remind our readers of the 
frequent allusions made to the use of signets 
and engraved gems in our sacred books. The 
Old Testament abounds in them. In Gene- 
sis, (chap, xxxviii. v. 18.) Tamar desires a 
pledge from Judah by which she might know 
him, and he said, " What pledge shall I give 
thee X " and she said, '* Thy signet," lonn • 
and in Exodus we have the circumstantial 
account of the twelve stones which were en- 
graved according to names of the children of 
Israel, " like the engravings of a signet." And 
we must not forget the remarkable expression 
of Job, (chap. xix. v. 23, 24,) " Oh ! that 
my words were now written, oh ! that they 
were printed in a book — that they were 
graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock 
for ever ! " 

As a more immediate introduction to the 
present subject, we will call the attention of 
our readers to the two forms of engraving 
entitled Camaieu and Intaglio. The Scara- 
bsus of the Egyptians, a type of immortality, 
and an object mixed up with their religious 
ceremonies, is one of the earliest specimens 
of this kind, not only engraved on precious 
stones, but from the extensive circulation they 
met with, manufactured in porcelain. There 
seems to be very little doubt that the ancients 
knew the use of the diamond in cutting glass 
and stones, though s6me have contended that 
Gaspar Lehmann, at Prague, who obtained a 
patent from the Emperor Rodolph II., was 
the first who succeeded in it. From the au- 
thority of Pliny, however, we may conclude 
that the diamond was well known to the lapi- 
dary,* and he particularly remarks that it was 
used " for all gems." From Egypt the art was 
gradually introduced, as Strutt tells us in his 

* Plin. xxxvii. 4. — ♦• Expclunlor (adamantis crus- 
lae) a sculptoribaBferroqueinchKlnntur, nuliftm non 
duhtiani ex faclli cavaritt-s." 

Dictionary of Engraving, into Phoenicia, and 
thence to Greece. Few of the names of the 
gem engravers of the time of Pericles have 
descended to us, but our readers will remem- 
ber that Alextoder gave his royal privilege 
to Ljrsippus and ApeUes, and ako to Pyrgo- 
teles, who aknie was authorised to engrave 
the royal portrait. AppoUonides and Cro- 
nius were next in reputation, as Pliny in- 
forms us.* At the earlier periods of Grecian 
art, many of the Egyptian divinities are cu- 
riously mingled with the heroes of Greece, 
the former being often engraved an. one side, 
while the latter occupied the reverse. We 
refer our readers to Winkelman's interesting 
account of the celebrated cameos which are 
handed down to us, particularly the exquisite 
one of Perseus and Andromeda. 

Intaglios or gems in which the figure is 
sunken (called by the French " en creux") 
were more particularly in vogue as seals or 
signets. Herodotus mentions that the Ethio- 
pians were well acquainted with the art, and 
their knowledge most probably was derived 
from the Egyptians. And we have already 
mentioned the numerous instances of the 
practice of the art in the Scriptures, probably 
obtained in this branch from that nation, since 
their hieroglyphics are generally of this cha- 
racter. It was supposed that me idea of an 
intaglio or seal suggested itself fit>m a piece 
of worm-eaten wood, and Winkelman men- 
tions a gem in the Stosch collection which 
was engraved in imitation of wood eaten by 
the worm. 

The coUections of the ancients were ex- 
tremely beautifiil and curious, and it will be 
sufficient to recall to our readers the name 
of Dioscoridesf in evidence of this, who 
flourished under Augustus, and whose emi- 
nent talents recommended him to the no- 
tice of that Emperor, in the same way as 
Pyrgoteles to Alexander the Great. The 
portndt of Augustus, engraved by him on a 
precious stone, was used by Augustus him- 
self and succeeding emperors as a signet. 
Riny gives an interesting description of the 
various tools used by the artists, and men- 
tions one which he calls tomuSj and which 
has been supposed to mean some sort of 
turning lathe ; but Natter, Raspe, and other 
more modem authors, will furnish fiirtber 
information on this subject. In the fifteenth 
century the art recovered from the state of 
obscurity into which it had fallen, and this 
regeneration may be in a great measure at- 
tributed to the Medici fiunily at Florence 
and Rome, whose love of the arts induced 
them in every way to uphold talent and 

• See Sillj^, Diet, of Artists of Antiquity. 
t Vide Sillij. 


Engraving — indent and Modem. — Part L 


learning. The most extensive and beautiful 
works, however, were in the Cameiy as these 
allow of &r more richness and expression 
than in the graving of the Intagliatore. 

The process of die engraving assimilates 
very closely to that which we have already 
mentioned, but it bears a hisher place in the 
art, as it was upon steel that the talent of 
the graver was exercised. The same kind 
of tools were employed, however, as upon 
the cameo and intagUo. The artist having 
executed the intended figure upon the piece 
of steel called a punch, this was tempered so 
as to bring it to a great degree of hardness, 
and under it was placed a piece of soft steel 
called the die, (talus,) which being made red 
hot receives the impression of the figure in 
relief on the punch, by the latter being 
smartly struck with the hammer, and thus 
the matrix is formed from which the fiiture 
medallions are struck. 

Skinner gives a curious interpretation of 
the word tsJon, (the claw of a bird of prey,) 
which he derives from talus, quia prscipuum 
istarum avium robur in talo seu calcare con- 
stitit, or because the chief strength of that 
bird lies in its heel or talon ; and another 
author has ingeniously conceived that the 
derivation ofme Italian words intaglio and 
tTUagliare may be derived from " the action 
of me bird's foot clawing the earth, or 
scraping, scratching and cutting into any 

We must now call the attention of our 
reader to a more important part of the sub- 
ject, namely, that portion of the art which 
was termed working in niello^ or the prac- 
tice of filling up the lines of a subject en- 
graved, by a different coloured metal from 
that of the plate. The goldsmith's art is one 
which has been practis^ from the remotest : 
a^es, and we are constantly reminded in the > 
Old Testament that it was united with the j 
ialentsi of the graver ; and no inconsiderable 
skill must have been displayed where we 
read the description in Exodus of the mercy- 
seat, with its cherubim and the various ad- 
juncts to the altar. Evel^ amongst other^ 
authorities for the antiquity of engraving, 
quotes the word y^p, which is used in 1 
Kings, ch. vi. ver. 35, and more particularly 
expresses the hollowing out of the carved 
woik on the cherubim and the sanctuary, 
v>hich carved work was afterwards filled up 
with gold. On the valuable authority of 
Sir J. 6. Wilkinson, we find that it was a 
common piactice with the ancient Egyptians 
to ornament their small gold figures by let- 
ting a vitrified composition into the engraved 
metal. The ancient goldsmiths probably 
i^ere early • accustomed to the use of the 

VOL. xxvr. 23 

burin, or kind of chisel, whose extremity is 
a rectangular steel bar in the shape of a 
lozenge. The Italian word bolino or buHno 
for the graving tool, as a diminutive, is de- 
rived by some etymologists fiiom the Teuton- 
ic beyel, beil, a bill, which Skinner renders 
securis rostrata^ meaning a woodman's bUl- 
hook. The burin being held firmly in the 
hand, cuts out a small thread-like portion of 
the metal which is being engraved, and 
which varies in depth more or less according 
to the angle of the burin and the force ap- 
plied to the instrument. We have very 
little doubt that this tool was &miliar to the 
ancients, for Strutt, in alluding to the Egjrp- 
tian alto-relievo in brass in the British Mu- 
seum, says : 

" The flat part or ground of the relief, to* 
^ether with the bottom, edges and back part of 
It, are ornamented with figures and symbolical 
characters, executed entirely with the graver 
without any other assistance. The badcs of 
the crocodiles and the heads of the four-footed 
animals are also finished with the same instru- 
ment in a very careful manner." 

The following description of niello en- 
graving by Count Serratti will perhaps con- 
vey to the reader a just impression of this 

'^ The intended object was covered over with 
the niello, (niegellum,) which was a metallic 
substance or black kind of enamel reduced to 
powtler, composed of silver, copper, lead, sid- 
phur and borax, so that it was more easilv fusi- 
ole than silver, and of a dark colour. Tne ne- 
cessary degree of heat was then apj^ed, which 
meltea this metalUc compound without affect- 
ing the silver plate, and occasioned it to run 
alK)Ut until it bad filled all the strokes of the 
engraving. Lastly, the superfluous part of the 
niello which rose above the surface of the silver 
plate was removed by scrapers, files and pumice 
stone, until the even surlace of the i^ate ap- 
peared in every part, so that the niello only re- 
mained in the strokes made by the burin, thus 
giving to the engraved design its true effect." 

This was the art which was so extensively 
practised by the goldsmiths of Europe in the 
age of the celebrated Maso de Finiguerra, and 
from these were produced the niello impres- 
sions. We are indebted to Mr. White, a 
member for many years of the Company of 
Goldsmiths, and whose exquisite taste is well 
known to the cognoscenti, and especially in 
the print department of the British Museum, 
for some valuable memoranda on this subject 
made during the reading of the Essai sur les 
Nielles, by Duchesne Ain^ ; and which, as 
the result of a long experience in the art of 
engraving, will be duly appreciated by our 


Engraving — •Ancient and Modem.'^Part L 


readers. In speaking of a nieUo impresrion 
in the Binda collection, he sajrs, 

«* The lines on the hodies of the figures are so 
closely engniTed as to be much blurred in the 
oneltiQg, which was evidently ruhbed off; I 
have used this technical term in order that I 
may state in this place the experimental process 
of the old goldsmiths. I should here premise, 
that having been in the practice of silver engrav- 
ing for more than ten years in the early part of 
my life, I have taken off perhaps tens of thou- 
sands of impressions by the very process used by 
the Italian goldsmiths from the earliest period 
of the art Its simplicity and efficacy is such as 
to prevent any alteration to the end of time. 
Drawing and enmving were at first a very ma- 
terial portion of a goldsmith's education, to 
which was added modelling and chasing. The 
life of that most splendid and eccentric genius 
Benvenuto Cellini, shows to what an extent the 
elements of a goldsmith's education might be 
improved and applied. But the division of la- 
bour in this, as in other trades, leading to expe- 
dition in the execution of orders, has withdrawn 
enmving and chasing firom the hands of the 
gomsmith ; and silver en^vers, as they are now 
called, perform one portion of the original em- 
ployment of the first goldsmiths, and chasers 
are exclusively engaged upon the other. Work- 
ing in silver at present is entirely separated from 
the art of the goldsmith, but in the guild or 
company of goldsmiths, all the working branches 
are considered in the trade. The small silver 
or gold plates which require to be engraved, 
such as the nielli were upon, are fastened by 
means of a cement, composed of rosin and brick- 
dust, upon a flat piece oi wood, by which means 
a sufficient rest is obtained for the thumb of the 
engraver, which in this species of engraving sus- 
tains and steadies the hand. The burin or grav- 
er is grasped by all the fingers of the right hand, 
and by a rail pressure on the thumb the artist is 
able to perform any operation with steadiness 
to the extent of a circular line of about-six inches 
in length. The eugmver, elevatmg his hand, 
has an entire control of the instrument, and 
works with equal certainty as upon a flat or a 
convex surface. Indeed a surface of much con- 
vexity is only safe in the hands of a skilful and 
experienced engraver, and no tyro would dare 
to attempt a bread-basket which is required to 
be engraved at the bottom, because tne hand 
has to be elevated so as to place the graver al- 
most upright, while the thumb solidly serves as 
a sapportmg pillar to the hand, round which 
the tod ploughs out the metal as the skill of the 
workman directs. The instruments generally 
used for this work are square, but are varied to 
different angles, and are termed the square 
graver, half lozenge and lozenge jnraver, the flat 
icooper and the spit-sticker. The practice I 
have described is, generally speaking, as much 
unused, perhaps unknown, by those who are 
now called historical or landscape engravers, as 
the art of chasing is unknown to, or not practis- 
ed by, silver engravers. The plate bemg en- 
graved, we must suppose impressions to be re- 
<|uired from it The plate is first robbed in with 
ink with the tip or under surface of the middle 

fiogcf) hy which means the ink is pressed to the 

bottom of the incised lines; it is then wiped off 
by a bit of rag, and cleared of that which re- 
mains on the su^ce with the fleshy part of the 
hand under the thumb, or that under portion of 
the palm at its outer edge. When thus clean- 
ed, all the lines are filled up with ink, which is, 
when delivered on the paper, to form the print 
A piece of paper, moistened virith saliva on each 
side, is now placed over the plate, and another 
piece of paper not so damp, or even dry, is laid 
on the nrst. A double paper perfectly dir is 
next placed over the two former ones, wnich 
being stretched out and kept tight and firm by 
the second finger and thumb of the lefl hand, a 
point-handle or stick, called a rubbing-stick, is 
robbed over every portion of the outer paper 
where the engravine is undemeath, and by 
this simple process I have taken thousands and 
thousands of prints from forks, spoons, tea-pots, 
milk-pots, bread-baskets, waiters, sugar-tongs, 
snuff-Doxes, knife-handles, &c. &c. &c., and of 
every variety of size, from half an indi to ten 
inches. I could print any plate of the largest 
niello I have seen, or which has been described, 
and as well as any impression I have ever seen, 
by this simple process. I am entirely satisfied 
by the conviction which has been produced by 
knowledge and experience, that in this way and 
by this process did Maso de Finiguerra and all 
the primitivcygoldsmiths produce the impres- 
sions which are now denominated nielli from 
the subsequent process of filling them with the 
substance described by Yasari and others. I am 
certain that hundreds of silver en^vers now 
living can corroborate every word I have writ- 
ten, and perform the operation I have described 
with almost unerring certainty." 

These observations show how greatiy the 
modem practice of engraving must have been 
assisted by this ancient process. Stnitt, in 
his fix)ntispiece to the first volume of his Dic- 
tioaaiy of Engravers, gives two curious spe- 
cimens from the Hamiltonian collection of 
Etruscan antiquities in the British Museum ; 
one of them is part of the sheath of a parazo- 
nium or dagger, the original being about 
eight inches and a half long, and gradually 
tapers from three inches wide at the top to 
an inch and a quarter at the bottom. Two his- 
torical subjects are graven upon the flat side, 
but of very rude workmanship. The other 
specimen is a patera, and undemeath the two 
figures engraved upon it is an inscription in 
Etmscan characters. The ornamental parts 
of the drapery are exceedingly beautiful, and 
it is altogether a most valus^ble remnant of 

We will now examine the earlier history 
of modem engraving, as an art, which, has 
reached such a pitch of excellence that the 
student may acquire at home the works of 
the greatest masters of painting, their fiHins 
and almost their colouring being perpetuated 
through thousands of impressions. There is 


Engraving — indent and Modem.-^Part /. 


nothing peiiiaps so aatufiu^tory , after thorough- 
ly acquainting ourselves with a b^utifiil 
picture, as to possess an engraving of it ; the 
roundness of form displayed in tiie figures, 
the adjustment of the drapery, the distant 
background with its clear sky and fleecy 
clouds, under the skilful hand oi the graver 
present all the beautiful and striking colour- 
ing of the master. Adam Bartsch, in his va- 
luable work of Peintre Graveuvy enumerates 
thirteen different claases of engravings, viz. ; 
1. Chalcography, or engraving; 2. Bngrav- 
ing with the dry point; 3. Etching; 4. 
Etching finished with the graver ; 5. Dotting 
or stippling per^Hmed with a punch and mal- 
let ; 6. Scraping, or the dark method, called 
mezzotinto, practised chiefly in En^and; 
7. Engraving in different colours, or Le blou's 
method ; 8. Chalk engraving, or FVench me- 
thod ; 9. English method by dotting ; 10. 
Aquatinta, or the method for giving effect of 
bistre or Indian ink; 11. Method by colour- 
ed washes; 12. Xylography, or wood en- 
graving and its varieties; 13. Lithography 
and its varieties. The education of me en- 
graver must be in the teme school as that of 
the painter, for he must have a perfect ac- 
quaintance with anatomy and perspective, 
and a just conception of drawing and of 
chiaroscuro. The painter devotes himself to 
delineating the pictures formed in his own 
mind, and conVeys to the spectator the same 
impression of colour, form and texture which 
he has conceived, as also all the varied 
chains which light and air produce in a 
landscape. The engraver, by a judicious ar- 
rangement of certain lines, studies to produce 
a feC'^imile, not only displaying all the vigour 
of fonn, but also all the innumerable modifi- 
cations of feeling displayed by the artist in 

The materials spoken of in the above enu- 
meration by Bartsch are wood, metal and 
atone ; and the art in general is usually divid- 
ed into three branches, Xylography, Chalco- 
graphy and Lithography. The first three 
processes are employed in engraving on metal, 
12 and 13 upon wood and stone, and are 
termed simple processes, while the interme- 
diate ones, from 4 to 11, are entitled mixed 
or compound. There is besides a compound 
process of wood engraving where one or more 
blocks are used, and the print may be com- 
pleted by stencilling. Any of our readers 
who have amused memselves with oriental 
tinting will be ftmiKar with this last process ; 
it was much used by the Briefmalers or card 
ccdourers.* Adam Bartsch significantiy ob- 
aerves, in his ^^Anleitung zur Kupferstich- 
kunde,*^ " that a description of all the various 

• Vide Singer, in " History of Playing Cards." 

ways adopted by judicious engravers for the 
purposes of their art would in words only be 
a task impossible," and more especially do we 
feel the truth of this observation in our limit- 
ed article. We cannot however pass over 
this interesting part of the subject without 
giving a few of the general rules to which 
the art is subjected. The chief study, then, 
of the line engraver, as we have already par- 
tially observed, whether in wood or metal, is 
to make such an arrangement of lines as shall 
mark the character of the various objects, 
whether they stand forward in b(dd relief; or 
are mellowed by reflected ot borrowed light, 
in short, to convey to the eye the various 
gradaticms of colours which have been ex- 
pressed by the artist on his canvass, and 
finally to preserve the whole in its proper 
keeping, en* such a disposition of the various 
lights and shades (termed chiaroscuro) as shall 
leave no doubt as to the intended place of any 
object m the plate ; hr although the lights 
and shadows of nature are continually vary- 
ing m direction and intensity throughout the 
day, still all objects preserve their relative 
value in the landscape. 

In giving smoothness and polish to any 
object, the lines are parallel, and sharp and 
clear in their course. To throw an object 
into the shade, and to give it a dull appear- 
ance, lines crossing each other perpendicu- 
larly are used, and are termed square hatch- 
ings, but where an intermediate state is re- 
quired, the lozenge hatchings are employed, 
or lines crossing each other at an an^e leas 
than a right angle. Where a waving or 
flowing effect is to be produced, the hatch- 
ing will be slightiy curved ; but when an 
object is brou^t prominently in relief vari- 
ous intervals in the shadings will produce the 
required effect M. Bartsch gives some val* 
uable information of the arrangem^xt of lines 
technically termed handling. 

"Although an engraver,** says the author, 
"has not the painter's power of characterizing 
difierent bodies by the appropriate colours of 
each, he possesses abundant means of represent- 
ing their surfaces so intelligibly, that hard bodies 
shall be distinguished from soft, smooth from 
rough, shining from dull, and that the copper- 
plate may often rival, in truth, fidelity and 
beauty, the coloured painting. For this purpose 
attention must be given to the different mod^ 
of handling, as well with regard to the choice of 
strokes (fine or broad, deep or shallow) to be en- 
graven, as with regard to the judicious direction 
and distribution of them. If this handling be en- 
tu-ely of the same sort throughout the plate, 
such a work will evidently possess less distinct- 
ness, and strike the eye less forcibly, than a 
work in which each substance of the compos^' 
tioQ is appropriately executed, leaving us m no 
doubt of^ Its individual character. An engraver 
is always defective when, through the unmteUi- 


Engraving — indent and Modem. — Part L 


gible handliDg of the graver, certain bodies re- 1 says that drapery, bein^ subject to the laws 

1 ,^ J _.!.__ .!-_: of gravity and motion, is affected in its fonn 

like all other objects in nature, according to 
its lightness or weight, acted upon by the 
repose or acti<m of the wearer and the force 
of the wind. The succesnon, therefore, of 
any folds which are brdcen into various 
lengths, must be most carefully treated by 
the burin ; ^^ but it is evident," savs M. 
Bartsch, '^ that no eicpertness in the artist can 
enable him to represent with the burin such 
draperies as have been badly painted, and are 
imperfect either in respect to shading or out- 
line. Defects in many engravings are un- 
justly charged upon the en^ver, whose 
only &ult, perhaps, is a too &ithiul copy of 
his original.^' 

Clear blue sky is represented by very fine 
parallel lines, no cross hatchings being allow- 
ed; but where clouds are introduc^ they 
are imitated by a series of strokes running 
together, and following the shape of the 
cloud. In those which are dark and stormy 
the hatchings are considerably strengthened, 
and for this portion of his art the engraver 
must be as attentive an observer of nature as 
the painter. In speaking of the representa- 
tion of soft earth, M. Bartsch says, ^^two or 
three series of hatchings, the strokes of 
which, like those of the foundation over 
which they crosif, must be crooked ; must be 
somewhat angular ; must be here and there 
broken or discontinued, and must have abrupt 
endings." Our limits do not allow us to 
make further observations on the various 
modes adopted by the engraver for represent- 
ing the rough bark of the forest tree, or the 
light and fragile stem of the plant waving in 
the breeze; and again, the calm and still 
waters gleaming with the passing light. All 
these are subject, more or less, to the same 
rules, and their beauties and truth depend oa 
the choice handling of the engraver. Harsh- 
ness in every way should be avoided, and the 
utmost attention should be paid to keeping 
and harmony. A great deal depends on the 
strength of the lights introduced by the 
this. The figure of Hymen, engraved by j graver, for the action of light and shadow has 
Bartolozzi, in his " Clytia," afler Annibal ^'*'»« ^r^naXAt^n^A ;» ^^m. ^:m..««» •.«o««.»^«b . 

presented are only to be guessed at by their out- 
line, or merely by the light and shadow thrown 
upon them. The various substances and ob- 
jects engraved, such as camations, cloths, silks, 
metals, stones, &c., ou^ht, with very few ex- 
ceptions, to be distinguishable from each other 
by the handling alone." 

He further remarks, that the strokes or 
dots used to mark the sur&ces of different 
bodies must be placed in that systematic way, 
and being fill^ with more or less colour, 
will judiciously express the varied forms ojf 
the mfferent sur&ces, whether raised or hol- 
lowed. With regard to the subject of hatch- 
ings, he draws a comparison between the 
works of Gerard Edelinck and Scheltius von 
Bols-wert, and conceives that the latter is 
certainly superior in his dexterity of hand- 
ling the graver, and declares that he has ex- 
ecuted some plates with the most perfect 
freedom and lightness: ^^ but this freedom," 
he says, " has its origin in a judicious direc- 
tion, union, and ultimation of the lines ; im- 
portant particulars in which Edelinck was 
remarkably deficient." The most important 
surftce to represent is that of the human 
akin and complexion, next ranks drapenr and 
other bodies. Baffaelle Mengs, in his ^^ Kules 
of Painting," alludes to five tints of colour 
for representing all the appearances in na- 
ture, which are divided into extreme light, 
half light, middle tint, half dark, and extreme 
dark. The half shadows in the human skin 
are expressed more fi^quently by dots than 
lines and strokes, and thete are sometimes 
conical holes made by the instrument called 
the dry needle, punch, or etching point ; and 
they have another form, which is angular. 
Wood engravers fi^quently adopt this pro- 
cess with die burin, for representing the deli- 
cate camations oi females and children. In 
portraits, where great accuracy is required, 
dots made by the graver have a very good 
effect, and M. Bartsch mentions the eminent 
works of J. G. Wilier, the Drevets, G. F. 
Smidt, and one or two others, as examples of 

Caracci, is a beautiful specimen of soft car- 
nation. Hair is generally expressed by lines 
running parallel together, the undulating sur- 
face of the curls being expressed by the 
greater or less depth of the shading, but in 
higer works single hairs of many curls are 
left white, and, being placed in contradis- 
tinction to darker masses, ^ve a rich and 
luxuriant appearance. The representation 
of drapery requires a great deal of judicious 
and far different handling on the part of the 
engraver. Flaxman, in his valuable lectures, 

been considered in four different manners 
1, as giving strong relief to the promment 
parts of an object ; 2, as giving relief to some 
detached portion of an object ; 3, the various 
changes which it receives in passing through 
different media ; and 4, the consideration tiut 
the light and shadow of any object is influ- 
enced by the local colours of the illuminated 
object The great study, therefore, of the 
engraver is, to avoid any harshness in his 
strong lights, as all shadows occasioned by 
them terminate abruptly. 

These observations are equally applicable 


Engraving — Ancient ancf Modem. — Part L 


to the q)eratioiui of line engraving upcm 
woody metal or stone, yet they apply more 
especially to highly finished works ; and we 
find these nice distinctions hut very indiffer- 
ently observed in the earlier specimens of 
the art. The common distinction between 
wood engraving and engraving on metal is, 
that the impressions obtained from the former 
are termed cute, while those fix>m the latter 
are called plates. Again, the wood engraver 
executes his wc^k in cameo or relief^ but on 
the metal plate, the lines are intagliate or 
hollowed, and the impressions from the form- 
er are produced by the pressure of the pro- 
minent part of the block on the paper, while 
those of the latter are obtained by the paper 
being pressed into the lines of the metal ; the 
consequence of which is, that a corresponding 
prominent or indented effect is communicated 
to the paper by these two processes. 

The art of producing impressions from 
wooden blocks is one of extreme antiquity, 
and by this, the archives of naticms which 
have passed away or merged into others have 
been handed down to us. The Chaldeans 
were evidently acquainted with the process, 
as it seems pretty clear that they impressed 
their mystic characters upon their burnt 
bricks i^med of clay and reeds, from some 
carved block of wood or stone. Some pas- 
sages in the Old Testament, especially one in 
Is^ih (ch. XXX. V. 8), " Now go write it be- 
fore them in a table," &c. seem to refer to 
the process of carving characters on wooden 
blocks. Baron Meerman, in his Origines 
Typographical, quotes several passages from 
a History of China written bv Abusaid in 
Persian, A. D. 1317, in which the perfect 
knowledge the Chinese possessed of the art of 
engraving on wood is made matter of especial 
observation. In Egypt it would appear that 
various stamps of wood were employed to 
produce impressions dn bricks and clay ; and 
the Romans were quite fruniliar with the art. 
Box is the wood which has been mostly em- 
ployed by the ol(d Xylographers, and is now 
in general use. The more ancient masters 
engraved on the long^ay of the wood, but 
the modem execute their designs on the cross 
section. The only preparation that is neces- 
sary is rubbine over the smooth sur&ce a lit- 
tle powdered Bath brick or some analogous 
sub^ance. In the ancient practice of the 
art a compound system was in vogue, that is 
to say, two or three different blocks were 
used on one cut, for the purpose of producing 
the impression in clair obscur^ as it was call- 
ed. One block was employed in impressing 
the outlines with half tmts, and the other in 
completing the print Adam Bartsch men- 
tions several ^' clair obscur de deux planches" 

by Albert Durer. The various tools used in 
the art are eravera, tint-tools, gouges or 
scoopers, and Shi chisels. There are various 
razes of each kind. Another marked distinc- 
tion in the practice of the workman in wood 
engraving and copper-plate engraving is, that 
in the former he pushes the tool fi:om him, 
and in the latter he draws it towards him. The 
subject is pencilled on the smooth block, pre- 
vious to its being cut out, and then the artist's 
power of drawing must be firm and correct, 
for unlike painting or even engraving on 
metal, a line once marked cannot well be 
obliterated. One of the finest effects is pro- 
duced by overlaying and lowering^ which is 
a system of connderable antiquity, and was 
practised so early as 1538. It consists in the 
block being scraped away from the centre or 
towards the sides in any parts of the picture 
which require lightness of expression. Upon 
the paper being pressed upon the block, the 
ink IS but fruntiy received upon it, and is thus 
termed lowering Overlaying is an opposite 
process, in which pieces of paper or even 
small pieces of woollen cloth are put on the 
back of the outer tympan, over those parts 
of the block which express the darker out- 
lines or shades, and a greater pressure being 
therefore applied in those parts produces the 
desired effect. It is scarcely necessary to 
add, that the experienced and judicious print- 
er is a most valuable and necessary assistant 
to the &me of the artist. 

Our space will not allow us to trace the 
various links of the chain, nor can we dwell 
on the conflicting opinions respecting the 
introduction of the art into Europe by way 
of Venice ; but we will recall to the memory 
of our reader the probable hypothesis of 
Papillon, which has been supported by Lani, 
Ottley and others (but to which Hubert, 
Bartsch and Jackson assign no credit), re- 
specting the first commencement of the art 
in Italy by Alessandro Alberico Cunio and 
his twin-sister Isabella, bom about A. D. 1270. 
These young people, bom for a better age, 
passed the sunshine of their youth in stor- 
ing their minds with all kinds of knowledge, 
and perfecting themselves in various accom- 
plishments, until they arrived at the age of 
sixteen, amongst which they acquired the art 
of designing and engraving on wood. They 
are supposed to have obtained their know- 
ledge in drawing from some monkish illumi- 
nist. However this may be, thev composed 
and jointly executed, during their leisure 
moments, a series of cuts, eight in number, 
giving '^ the heroic actions represented in 
figures, of the great and magnanimous Ma- 
ceidonian king, tiie bold and valiant Alexan- 
der,'* which they dedicated to Pope Hono- 


Engramng — Mncieni and Modem* — Part L 


riuB IV. Mr, Ottley saw a set of the impreft* 
sions, and says they appeared to have been 
printed by the friction of the hand, and that 
the impression was gianulous, as if the paper 
had not been damped, a common omission of 
the early wood engravers. These young peo- 
ple met with a sad and untimely end. The 
brother possessing aU the noble ardour of the 
age, followed his father to the wars, and was 
Imighted, on account of his gallant conduct, 
in the field which received his first blood. 
He was ordered to Ravenna, where he was 
tended by his sister, and during his convales- 
cence they a^un pursued &eir peaceful 
amusements, ^ut civil warfare drew him 
again fiom her side, and in his fourth cam- 
paign the brave young knight feU on the bat- 
Ue-field. The affectionate Isabella, broken- 
hearted for his loss, remained not long to 
mourn him, but soon joined her kindred 

Mr. Jackson, in his "Treatise on Wood 
Engraving," says, that there is reason to be- 
lieve that towards the end of the fourteenth 
or fifteenth century, the Germans adopted 
the mode of taking' impressions on vellum or 
paper with prominent lines, and then fiUing 
up the figures with some colour by means of 
a stencil. It seems uncertain whether the 
card-makers of Augsburg adopted that pro- 
cess in their trade. The monks, however, 
availed themselves of the art in multiplying 
the figures of their saints and holy persons. 
These were known to the people of Swabia 
by the name of Helgen or Uelslein, an appa- 
rent corruption of " Heiligen, saints. The 
weU-known remarkable woodcut of St. Chris- 
topher, bearing the date of 1423, now in the 
possession of Earl Spencer, is'the earliest speci- 
men we have of the combined arts of the 
Formschneider or wood engraver, and the 
Briefmaler or card colourer. The figures 
are done with much spirit, but with regard 
to the perspective there is rather a touch of 
the old Chinese masters in it. 

We have next to direct attention to the 
'' Block Books," the most celebrated of which 
are the " Apocalypsis seu Historia Sancti Jo- 
hannis," the "nistoria Virginis ex Cantico 
Canticorum," with two or three others, 
which Mr. Jackson places between the years 
1430 and 1450. Albert Pfisters's <' Book of 
Fables," published by him at Bamberg in 
1461, is the first on record which was illus- 
trated with wood-cuts. This and his " Four 
Histories," dated 1462, exhibit some very 
good attempts in the art In our own coun- 
try Caxton was the first who essayed to 
diversi^ his work, "Game and Playe of 
Chesse,^' date about 1476, by some illustra- 
tions. The figure of the worthy knight, Sir 

Bob Gro0-t^, exhibits a clear outline, but 
there is an absence of knightly symmetry in 
his seat, which, by the bye, is not to be won- 
dered at when we look at the short, stumpy, 
little horse beneath him. In Ptdemy's 
" Chronology," printed at Ulm in 1482, by 
Leonard Ikll, we have the first example of 
maps engraved on wood. Very numerous 
are the early specimens of German Xylo- 
graphy, and for that period it had attained 
much perfection, as may be seen in Brey- 
denbach's Travds, first printed by Erhard 
Renwich at Mentz in 1486, and in the cele- 
brated Nuremburg Chronicle, printed in the 
same citv in 1493. There is no doubt that 
Albert Durer was the greatest promoter of the 
art; ''not however," as Mr. Jackson says, 
'' as is generally supposed, firom having him- 
self engraved the numerous wood-cuts which 
bear his marie,* but from his having thought 
so well of the art as to have most of his great- 
est works engraved on wood, fit>m drawings 
made on the block himself." Durer's earliest 
work was that of sixteen cuts illustrating the 
Apocalypse, and published in 1498. 

Mr. Jackson remarks, that in most of the 
wood-cuts supposed to have been engraved 
by Albert Durer, cross hatchings, or lines 
crossing each other diagonally, are very finely 
introduced ; and he concludes from this cir- 
cumstance that Durer, had he engraved lus 
own designs, would have attained his effect 
by easier means of execution. Many people 
have imagined that there is superior talent 
shown in the process of cross hatching, but it 
is one very easy of execution, and only re- 
quires time and patience. Durer^s History 
of the Virgin, consisting of nineteen large 
cuts, with a vignette on the title-page, ap- 
peared in 1511. The position of the Ma- 
donna in this vignette, seated on a crescent, 
is most effective. The ample drapery which 
is drawn around her, the Child quietly re- 
ceiving its food, give a happy expression to 
the easy and natural attitude of the nursing 
mother. "Bearing the Cross" is another 
example of the great genius of Durer ; and 
to these we may add some of his remarkable 
single subjects, 9ich as God bearing up the 
body of Christ to Heaven, in 1511 ; a por- 
trait of Ulnc Vambuler, 1522 ; Siege of a 
Fortified Town, date of which Bartsch is in- 
clined to doubt, but which Ottley plac€« in 
1527. Another striking cut is ,a caricature, 
a satire of the times, and most probably 
directed against Luther. An admirable devil, 
partaking m appearance of Ms satanic majesty, 

* It was the ciiRtom of tho old engravers to dis- 
tinguish their works hy aiBxing ihe'tr mark or mo- 
nogram, consisting most frequentfy of their initials 
or some quaint device. 


Engraving — Ancient and Modem. — Part L 


and a large turkey-cock, ia puisuing the avo- 
cation of a bagpiper, and is blowing into the 
ear of a &t monk who acts as the bag — the 
nose is elongated into the form of a *' chan- 
ter," and the devil is fingering away' upon it. 

In Augsburg, Hans Burgmair approached 
his master in the power and spirit of his 
works. The admirable figure of Uonrad Von 
der Rosen, the jovial leader of the professed 
jesters of Maximilian's court, is an admirable 
example; but his merits are more particu- 
laihr shown in his Triumphs of Maximilian. 

Lucas Cranach, Hans ochaufflein with his 
little shovel as his monogram, Lucas van 
Leyden, and others at the same period, have 
handed down tiieir names, through their ex- 
cellent worics. At the same era the Flemish 
school contributed its efibrtsmost successfully 
to Xylograpi^. Heineken describes a very 
old print, published at Antwerp, bearing a 
curious inscription in Flemish characters: 
" Ghe print t'Antwerpen, by my Hiillerr de 
Figersmder," printed at Antwerp by me rhil- 
lery, engraver of figures. Christopher Jegher 
of the same city particularly recommended 
himself to Rubens by the adimirable manner 
in which he engraved his designs. Strasburg 
gave birth to the Stimmers, who executed 
some cuts for a Bible, published by Thomas 
Guarin, at Basle, in 1586. 

The celebrated Dance of Death, published 
at Lyons in 1538, is commonly ascribed to 
Hans Holbein, though upon doubtful author- 
ity according to Mr. Jackson, as fitim the 
similarity of style to some well-known worics 
of Hans Lutzelbruger, he agrees with Von 
Mechel in placing them amongst the happiest 
efforts of that artist. This opinion seems to 
be rather home out by the circumstance of 
the letters H. L. being on some of the cuts. 

There was a curious break in Italy for 
more than a century and a half, and it was 
not until the fifteenth century that tiie art 
was revived with any decree of success. 
The great Titian, the pupu of Mocetto, at 
the age of twenty-eight, produced in 1505 
his print of the marriage of St. Catharine, 
and Cesare Vecelli and Domenico Campag- 
nola were his successful followers, i&iea 
Vico, of P&rma, was at Florence in 1545, 
and presented the Emperor Charles V. with 
hifl portrait, and received for it one hundred 
crowns. Strutt, who saw the specimen, 
speaks very highly of the style in which it 
ifl executed. In the meantime Florence, 
Bologna, and Rome, added further proofs of 
the dexterity of the Italian artists. Ugo da 
Carpi, who was bom at Rome in 1486, and 
the fellow student of Raffaelle d'Urbino^ pro- 
duced some very masterly and spirited 
aketehes by the compound process. lie even 

employed three different blocks ; one for the 
outline and daric shadows, the second for the 
lighter shadows, and the third for the demi- 
tints. Another celebrated print from these 
blocks is mentioned by Stmtt, representing 
"Avarice driven by Hercules fixan before 
Apollo, Minerva, and the Muses," and attri- 
buted to Baldazzare Peruzzi. Parma was 
more particularly fortunate in producing 
Francesco Mazzuoli or Parmegiano, one of 
the most extraordinary masters of chiaro- 

It is a remaricable circumstance that we 
have only cme instance of a Spanish wood 
engraver of that period. Juan Vingles, of 
Zaragoza, in about 1550 engraved the illus- 
trations of the Ortografia Pratica, by Juan de 
Iciar, who published it the same year at that 

The world is much indebted to the activity 
of Jean Baptiste Michel P^illon, of France, 
who was encouraged and patronized by 
Louis XIV. His well-known treatise on 
wood engraving is an amusing production, 
remarkable for its originality, and is very 
finely illustrated. Nicholas le Sueur and 
his sister Elizabeth were also popular artists 
in French Xylography, both of whom were 
indebted to the talents of Le Fevre, who 
about the year 1760 became incurably mad. 

In England the earliest specimen that we 
have of £e art is through John Baptiste Jack- 
son, who flourished between 1720 and 1754 \ 
he was instructed by Pkpillon, who accuses 
him of having tried to pass off* a copy of one 
of his works for his own. Other names oc- 
cur after his, but we are mostly indebted to 
Thomas and John Bewick, of Overton, whose 
well-known and beautiful work on British 
birds has so often delighted us, vrith its mi- 
nute and elegant vignettes, and given a charm 
to many a passing hour in our maturer years, 
by its correct and beautiful delineation of the 
feathered tribe. The talents of Nesbit, Nole, 
Harvey, E. Landels, the Thompsons, the 
Williams, &c. &c., are too well known to 
require our dwelling upon them. 

With ordinary care, from one hundred 
thousand to one hundred and fifty thousand 
impressions may be taken firom a block, and 
not only have we an advantage by this pro- 
cess in regard to the number of impressions, 
but the wood engraver is enabled to stereo- 
type his productions, thus multiplying his 
works to millions of copies. We have al- 
ready alluded to Maso Finiguerra, in Mr. 
White's Memoranda, as being the first per- 
son who obtained impressions from engraved 
plates in gold or silver. M. Bartsch, alUiough 
be willingly allows the Florentine goldsmith 
to bear the palm, adds, that his own countiy- 


Engraving — JlneUnt and Modem^-^Part L 


men have made much more use of the inven- 
tion than the Italians. We need not allude 
to the idea of the impressions being taken 
from the sulphur which was run into the 
engraved plate, as upon a mould, as Mr.. Ott- 
ley has shown its utter impracidcability in 
his *' History of Engraving." The same 
author supposes Maso Finiguerra to have 
been bom about a. d. 14^10, and that he died 
at Florence at a very advanced age. The 
Abb6 Zain had the ^;ood-fortune to find out, 
in the National Cabmet at Paris, an identical 
impression taken off by himself from his sil- 
ver Pax, representing the Assumption of the 
Virgin, and which belonged to the church of 
San Giovanni, at Florence. This circum- 
stance placed the date of Finiguerra's labours 
beyond doubt, as the plate was registered in 
the archives of the church, in 1452. Thus 
was the art of chalcography introduced. 

Andrea Montegna, bom near Padua, in 
1431, and celebrated as a painter, was one of 
the earliest artists who practised line engrav- 
ing. At that time the effort of the artist was 
confined to rendering his work as like a pen 
and ink drawing as he could. Bartsch gives 
as many as twenty-four different subjects fiom 
Montegna. Giulio Campagnola, of the same 
family, who flourished in 1517, was the re- 
puted author of the dotted method of en- 
graving, which we shall speak of hereafter. 
Other names of no very great note occur up 
to the period of the fifteenth century, at 
which time the art increased in proportion to 
the advancement made by the great painters 
of that age. Both in simple and compound 
chalcography the plate of copper undergoes 
a certain preparation previous to the burin 
being applied to it. After being hammered 
perfectly plain, it is carefully polished by 
pumice stone, for the purpose of removing 
any inequalities caused by the blows of the 
hmmer, after which a kind of slate, called 
water of Ayr stone, removes the scratches 
caused by the last process, and subsequently 
smith's coal, or ckircoal, and lastly an oil 
rubber, brings the plate to that highly polish- 
ed state which is required. A tracmg ground, 
or varnish, is laid upon the plate, which is 
warmed over a pan of charcoal to receive it> 
M. Bartsch gives two or three receipts for 
this varnish, which is usuaUy composed of 
virgin wax, asphaltum, and two or three dif- 
ferent kinds of pitch. It is applied to the 
surfeuse of the warm copper, being discharged 
through a little bag, which tends to spread it 
evenly. The artist, making an outline of his 
intended drawing upon paper, rubs over the 
back of it the dust of red chalk, and placing 
it upon the coating or varnish on the plate, 
which has been previously coloured black or 

white, traces his outline on the paper with a 
blunt point, and on removing the paper, finds 
it transferred to the ground. This being 
completed, the outline is again retraced with 
the etching needle, so as to slightly mark the 
copper, after which the varnish is removed, 
and the artist employs his burin. Many have 
been astonished at the fiicility of execution 
displayed by the early engravers, and the 
strength ana equality which is evinced in 
their handling. But this ceases to occupy 
our attention when we reflect that the slaU 
and practice of the goldsmith (the incipient 
line engraver) was constantly displajred in the 
beauty and delicacy of his designs upon gold 
or silver, and that at the very origin of the 
new art there were very many expert burin- 
ists who were at once able to apply their 
hands to the interesting labour. Amongst 
the many artists of the fifteenth century, 
Mark Antonio was a more skilful designer 
than even his master, the celebrated Bolog^ 
nese goldsmith, Francesco Rabolini. ms 
neatly engraved print of Lucretia, which he 
executed while at Home, procured him the 
valuable notice of the great Safl&elle, and 
during that master's short life he was continu- 
ally employed by him. Ottley enumerates 
as many as three hundred and fifty-nine sub- 
jects from his burin; and Bartsch gives a 
particular description of them, together with 
the works of his pupils, Agostino Venetiano 
and Marco di Ravenna. His school was 
most celebrated, and his principles were prac- 
tised, not only in the principal cities of Italy, 
but also in many parts of Germany. During 
the time of Marc Antonio, Italy was visited 
by students fix>m all parts of Europe, who 
were eager to catch some portion of that 
spirit which animated the Italian masters. 
Some of the choicest productions of Marc 
Antonio may be seen in the print room of the 
British Museum. 

Amongst others, Cornelius Cort, who was 
bom at Hoom in 1536, made a journey to 
Venice, and having been previously instruct- 
ed in the art of engraving by Jerome Cock 
of Antwerp, took up his residence in Titian's 
house, and was most fortunately employed in 
engraving many woiks by that great master. 
He afterwards went to Rome and established 
there a most important school, the prominent 
feature of which was his great attention to 
the principles of chiaroscuro. The style of 
Cort was remarkable for its boldness and fcee- 
dom of handling. • Basan declared that he 
was the best engraver with the burin that 
Holland ever produced, and particularly re- 
marks upon the delicacy which he combined 
with all his forcible expression. His plates 
also were of a much larger size than those by 


Engraving — Jlnciem and Modern, — Part L 


Ha p ra d e ceaBore. He died at Rome at the 
age of forty-two, when his &me was at its 
height His plates then amounted to nx>re 
than one hundred and fifiy. Agostino Carac« 
ci, the eldest of the three celebrated brothers, 
bom at Bologna in 1558, was destined in his 
early youth to follow the calling of a gold- 
amith, but he showed his incipient talent by 
executing at the early age of fourteen some 
plates in the style of Gort, and, following the 
advice of his friends, became the celebrated 
engraver. We camiot dwell upon the ad* 
miiable works that he produced, nor upon 
those of his cousin Ludovico, whose plates, 
according to Bartsch, amounted to more than 
two hundred and seventy. His fellow-towns- 
man, Francisco Bruzzio, followed in his foot- 
steps, and many other artists oi minor worth 
en&raced the principles of his school. But 
we must notice the German school of early 
chalcography, which has been allowed by aU 
impartial writers, and Strutt in particular, to 
be greatly superior in its productions to Italy. 
It commences oddly enough with some extiu- 
ordinaiy effi>rts by an anonymous artist in 
the year 1466, who has handed down to us 
cne hundred and thirteen pieces by the au- 
thority of many writers. This master, to- 
gether with Martin Schon or Schdngauer, 
bom about 1453, have been considered by 
Strutt as the founders of the German primi- 
tive school, whose peculiar sb^le lasted until 
the nobler efforts of Albert Durer delig^d 
the world. 

Schdngauer, having followed the profession 
of a goldsmith, had remariuble fociuty in the 
use of the burin, and although very quaint in 
his style, gave much pleasure by the expres- 
sion he threw into his subjects. The Me- 
chens (Israel van Mechen and his disciples) 
were the followers of the master of 1466, and 
Schaufflein the elder, Frantz van Bocholt 
and others, of SchOngauer. Albert Durer 
was also as remarkable in this line of the art 
as in that of Xylography. '^ Great as was 
the £une of Durer as a painter," says M. 
Bartsch in his Peintre Graveurj "his produc- 
tions as an engraver do him no less honour. 
His plates show a freedom, delicacy and &- 
cility of burin to which none of his prede- 
cessors can make pretension." The follow- 
ers and pupils of Durer were very numerous 
in chalcography, and were entitled the Little 
Matters. George Frederic Schmidt, bom at 
Berlin in 1712, studied under the celebrated 
engraver M. de Larmessin, at Paris. He 
again returned to Berlin, and increased his 
fiutne by engraving the portrait of the Em- 
press Elizabeth of Kussia, at her particular 
request. Watelet says that Schmidt was re- 
markable for the singular ease and grace with I 

VOL. XXVI. 24 


winch he guided his burin. Jdm George 
Welle must also be noticed as ccmtemporaiy 
with the last-named master. He resided 
chiefly at Paris, and has often been classed 
amongst the French engraven. His powen 
of representation were very gieat, and his 
burin has been most happily employed in the 
beautiful paintings of Dow, Mieris, Metzu, 
and Netcher. 

The industry of the Dutch and Flemish 
masters was very surprising during the four- 
teenth and fijfteenth centuries in the simple 
exercise <^ the art. Of these the engraven 
of the Low Countries i^pear to have been 
UKwt celebrated. One of the most remarka- 
hLe was Lucas Jacobs, oi Leyden, bom in 
1494. His awlication was extraordinaiy, 
and so much arocted his health, that for the 
last six yean of his ^ort life he scarcely left 
his bed, and it was a melancholy contrast to 
his former life, when he used to make voya« 
es to the Netherlands in a splendid vessel of 
is own, and attiied in swee|»ng robes of 
cloth of gold, would, in company with his 
friend John de Mabuse, give magnificent en- 
tertainments to the Flemish painters in the 
various cities that he visited. All his woria 
are from his own designs, and amount to about 
one hundred and seventy-four pieces. At 
Amsterdam and Haerlem arose the school of 
Henry Golzius, and at Utrecht Count de 
Goudt and the family of De Passe were most 
celebrated. The elder De Passe was ako 
known as a man c^ lettera, and his work en- 
titled "Delia Luce de depingere e desig- 
nare," contains most excellent rules for per- 
spective, the proportions of the human figure, 
&c. &c. From Antwen> came De Gheyn, 
the Galles, together with Paul Pontius and 
numerous followers. We must now notice 
the progress that France made in the art con- 
temporaneously with the countries we have 
already noticed. The history of the attempts 
in that country were ¥napt up in much am- 
biguity, but the first person who is actually 
known 2s having established any school is 
Jean Duvet or the master of the Unicom, 
not as some of our readera may imagine fit>m 
the use of it as his monogram, but from his 
so frequently introducing it into many of his 
designs. Like all the early artists he was a 
gol(kmith, and used Ins burm to the advanced 
age of seventy-nine. Some minor names 
occur after his, but the next person worthy 
of notice is Leonard Gaultier, of about a. d. 
1610. He more particularly imitated Cris- 

Ein de Passe and Wierinxes. Andran, P. 
lombart, the Davids, De la Haye, and two 
or three others, were very effective during 
the sixteenth century. 

The aeventeenth century was a ranaiicable 


Engraving — ^ncUfU and Modem* — Port L 


en for French engraying. Claud Mellan, 
bom at Abbeville in 1601, visited Rome at 
the early age of sixteen and began to study 
painting, but quitted it for that of engraving. 
His plates are much valued. It is said that 
he was invited over to England by Charles 
IL, but preferred tiie patronage of his royal 
master, who as8io;ned him apartments in the 
Louvre, where he resided until his death, 
vddch took place at the advanced age of 
eighhr-seven. The most remarkable iblbwer 
of Mellan was Robert Nauteiiil, bom at 
Bheims a. d. 1630. His plates, amounting 
to two hundred and eighty, are worked with 
the most extraordinary care and precision, 
and his fame attracted the notice and patron- 
age of Louis XIV., who bestowed upon him 
a pension of 1000 livres, at the same time 
tqppointing him to the situation of designer 
and engraver to the Cabinet. His carnations 
were remarkable for their softness pf expres- 
ooQ, and in flowing lightness and glossiness 
of human hair he stands unrivalled. 

At the same period, Antoine Masson, bom 
in 1636, was as astonishing in the pro- 
ductions from his burin as the preceding 

^ Masson," says Strutt, " seems to have had 
no kind of rule to direct him, with respect to 
the turning of the strokes; but twisted and 
twirled them about without the least regard to 
the different forms he intended to express, mak- 
ing them entirely subservient to his own caprice. 
Yet the effect he produced in this simple man- 
ner, is not onlv far superior to what one would 
have supposed, but is oAen very picturesque and 

His admirable print, afi^ Titian, of '' Christ 
with the two Disciples at Emmaus," is a 
most remarkable example of his eccentric 
genius, and has obtained the nilme of ^' The 
Table Cloth," fix)m the beautiful fidelity 
vrith which it is worked. He was also pa- 
tnmised by the king, and became his engrav- 
er. The Drevets, at the close of the seven- 
teenth century, considerably auspented the 
fame of the French engravers. The younger 
I^evet, at the very early age of thirteen, 
produced a very beautiful plate, and at nine- 
teen astonished the world by bis -celebrated 
folio plate of the " Resurrection." His his- 
toricid subjects are much valued. The elder 
Drevet was remarkable for his firm and mas- 
terly touch, and perpetuated the fame of 
Hyacinthe Rigs&ud, the great portrait painter. 
At this period in Engluid, there were few 
persons of any note who produced any plates 
solely by the aid of the burin. We shall 
therefore pass over their names, but m a fu- 
ture part of the subject shall notice those 
English masters who were eminently success- 

ful in the compound processes of etching, line 
engraving, and the occanonal introductioD 
of the £7 point, which we will now de> 
scribe. This is merely the use of a sharply 
pointed needle, which must be carefully 
ground in a groove \o preserve its conical 
&ape. The plate undergoes the same pn>> 
cess as with the burin, and the fatom are 
then filled up with courses of shadings by 
means of this instrament, the burr wmch is 
raised by it being carefully scraped away. 
Andrea Meldolla is reported to have first 
practised this operation. But very few art- 
ists have used this instrument alone. We 
must not however forget that Bartsch enume- 
rates six pieces by the celebrated Rembrandt, 
produced solely by this instrument \ of these, 
his ''EcoeHomo," dated 1665, ''The Skat- 
er," « The Canal," and " The Pointer af- 
ter the Model," are the most celebrated. 
Thomas Worlidire, of London, a painter oi 
miniatures, who nourished in 1760, was very 
celebrated in his half-lengths, after the style 
of Rembrandt ; and another person, who 
made himself equally conspicuous in the art, 
was Inigo Spilsbury, a printseller of L<mdon, 
bom in 1730 ; his plates amounted to about 
fiffy. And we must not forget to notice 
Capt. Baillie, of Ireland, who, bom about 
1736, engraved upwards of a hundred plates, 
many of them being with the instrument we 
have mentioned. 

Etching has often been the amusement cS 
private individuals as well as of professional 
persons, and formerly, as now in our own 
tlourt, it was the fashionable accomplishment 
of that of France, during the time of Louis 
XV., when the Marchioness Pompadour 
amused herself with the art, not only in the 
simple process, but combining it with the use 
of the burin. 

This process has been derived from the 
German word dtzeUy corrosion, and the €rer- 
mans styled the dilution of aquafortis em- 
ployed for the purpose, dtztoassery or etching 
water. This produces the strokes and dots, 
which, in line engraving, are executed by 
the graver. The plate is polished in the 
manner we have already described, and being 
placed over charcoal embers, is ready to re- 
ceive the ground, which is generally of three 
kinds, hard, soft, and the common ground. 
They are of different consistences, beuig suit- 
ed to different temperatures, and are mostly 
composed of bleached bees' wax, asphaltum, 
and two or three different kinds of fatcb. 
We will not detain the reader by describing 
the different preparations used by Callol, 
Lowry, and Bosse, the celebrated etcher of 
the French school, but content ourselves with 
stating, that the mode in which the etching 


Engraving — •^ncieni and Modem, — Part L 


ground is spread on the mir&ce of the plate 
is hy means of a dahber, consisting of some 
cotton tied up in a piece of silk, which effec- 
tually produces a uniform surfece. The 
next process is transferring the drawing, 
which is done in the same manner as we have 
siready described The etcher then retraces 
the oirtlines, and filling up the various shad- 
ings, the copper which is scratched away 
being distinctly seen from the surface of the 
varnish having been blackened. The etch- 
ing needle is made of steel wire, and is of 
various thicknesses, according to the fineness 
of the strokes required. TK^e occupied in 
this part of the process, the etcher rests his 
hand on a small bridge, which is placed 
across the plate, otherwise the heat would 
injure the ground. The burr of varnish oc« 
casioned by the cutting of the etching needle, 
is carefully removed, and when dny mistakes 
are found to have been made, a stopping 
mixture, as it is called, is used, generally com- 
posed of turpentine, varnish, and lampblack, 
and is applied with a cameFs hair pencil ; it 
speedily dries, and is as firm in its consistency 
as the rest of the ground. The etching 
needle is now laid aside, and the next thing 
to be done is to surround the plate with a 
little wall of bees' wax softened by Burgundy 
pitch, of about an inch in height ; a solution 
of nitric acid, with equal parts of water, is 
poured in, and corrosion immediately fbUows. 
The bubbles which rise from the action, are 
carefully cleared away by a little feather. 
When the etcher conceives that his lighter 
strokes have been eaten away to a sufficient 
depth, he throws away the solution, and after 
washing the plate carefully, stops up that 
part which is sufficiently bitten, and applying 
again and again the corrosive mixture, the 
biting is at last completed, having the various 
gradations of shacUngs wluch have been con- 
ceived by the artist. It is somewhat difficult 
at first to determine how long the various so- 
lutions shall remain on the plate, but this is 
soon acquired by experiment and practice. 
For very fine lines, the acid is allowed to re- 
main about half an hour, or an hour, but some 
etchings of great depth and character require 
somtimes two or three days. The influence 
of the weather is remarkable on the action 
of the acids, and the etcher should work in as 
uniform a temperature as he is able. The 
ground is removed by heat, and any portions 
which adhere to the plate, are got rid of by a 
rae dipped in olive ml. 

It wUl often happen with the inexperienc- 
ed artist, that his plate will exhibit a want of 
uniformity in the strokes ; some lines being 
too deep, others again too feeble. The former 
is obviated by rubbing down the sur&ce of 

the plate with charcoal, but to correct the lat* 
ter error, requires a delicate and difficult pro- 
cess. They must be re-bitten, and. the mode 
of doing it was discovered by William 
Walke, of London, who lived about 1760« 
He thought of an expedient, which, to his 
great delight, succeeded. It was that of 
la3ring on the plate a aecoad ground or coat- 
ing cS varnish, by means of a dabber, but so 
delicately applied, that no portion of the var- 
nish enters the sunken lines. The portim 
which requires deepening, is then surrounded 
by a little wall of wax, and the acid being 
applied in the usual manner, the work of cor- 
rosion goes on, and the defective coloun are 
thus deepened. 

For etching on steel the same process is 
observed, with the exception of the solutioo^' 
which consists of equal parts of corrosive 
sublimate and of powdered alum, dissolved 
in hot water. It is not our purpose here to 
enter into the chemical difficulties of etching 
upon this metal ; but we will refer our readers^ 
who may wish for further information on the 
subject, to the ** Transactions of the Society 
of Arts," vol. xlii., where will be found 
another description of the various menstniums 
for biting on the soft steel, by Mr. Edmond 
Turrel, Mr. W. Godce, jun. and one or two 
other eminent artists. Our readers wiU 
readily perceive that etching is much more 
expeditious than engraving, and it is calcu* 
lated that in the space of time in wh