Monthly Magazine or British Register (of Politics, Literature and the Belles Lettres)

THE

MONTHLY MAGAZINE,

BRITISH REGISTER

OF

LITERATURE, SCIENCES, AND THE BELLES-LETTRES.

PRESENTED

Netoftrfe*. -8 DEC 1948

JANUARY TO JUNE.
VOL. XI.

LONDON:

PUBLISHED BY WHITTAKER, TREACHER, AND COV
AVE-MARIA-LANE.

1831.

LONDON:
HENRY BAYLIS, PRINTER, JOHNSOX's-COURT, FLEET-STREET,

THE

MONTHLY MAGAZINE

OP
POLITICS, LITERATURE, AND THE BELLES LETTRES.

VOL. XL] JANUARY, 1831. [No. 61,

MERLIN'S PROPHECY FOR THE YEAR 1831 !

WIZARD ! dreaming in your cave,

Twice ten thousand fathoms deep,
Where the brothers of the grave

Sit enthroned — Time, Death, and Sleep ;
Where the bones of Saxon kings

Feed your ancient altars' blaze —
Tell me what new wonder springs,

Wizard ! on your New Year's gaze ?

MERLIN.

Stranger ! leave me to my slumber —

Merlin long is sick of earth;
Scoundrels still the soil will cumber,

Asses still give asses birth ;
Rogues will still be patriot praters,

Treasury slaves still sell their wives ;
Wigs and gowns will still hide traitors —

Polls have pensions for three lives !"

Times are coming — times are coming —

John Bull, you shall break your fast ;
Swords are clashing, drums are drumming —

Hours of humbug ! ye are past.
Horseguards men their backs are turning —

Pensioned beauties are undone ;
Ministers' own wigs are burning —

Boldly, New Year ! thou'st begun.

• Hark, the bells from tower and steeple !

All the locusts of the State,
All the feeders on the people,

Must no longer dine on plate —
M.M. New Series.—Voi,. XL No. 61. B

Merlin's Prophecy for the Year 1831 ! [JAN.

T»T • ^ • ^ i

Must give up their Opera-boxes,

Must give up still prettier things-
Soft as turtles, sly as foxes,

Dear to men of stars and strings !

Down his Highness goes for ever !

Heartless, haughty, hollow, cold ;
Scorn has purged Ambition's fever,

Ridicule his tale has told.
With him sink his slavish rabble —

Puny, pettifogging gang !
Fit in Treasury lies to dabble,

Fit to cheer their Lord's harangue.

Now, Sir Bob, farewell thy proncurs !

Even Bill Holmes will cut thee dead ;
All by tricks, and none by honours,

Even thy Treasury game has fled.
Shelved on Opposition benches,

Hume himself o'er thee shall crow —
Whig, prig, Russell, storm thy trenches :

Go, where thou at last must go !

All ye pets in Treasury chariots ;

All ye pampered, would-be queens —
Wives of Pilates and Iscariots,

Twenty summers past your teens !
On your cheeks your calling painted,

Battered, shattered, drunken, old —
All ye reputations tainted, —

Howl ! your hour of pride is told !

All ye shallow Michael Cassios,

All ye men of aiguillettes,
All ye genus of mustachios,

All ye Hussar dandizettes ;
All ye tinselled aides-de-camp,

Proud to lick a Marshal's shoe,
Scarlet as ye are, ere long,

Like your Marshal, ye'll look blue.

Ireland, " gem of land and ocean !

Finest pisantry on earth !"
Wholesale dealer in commotion !

Soil of murder and of mirth !
Hack for every scoundrel's straddle,

Every brawling beggar's dupe ;
Dan O'Connell on thy saddle —

Anglesey upon thy croupe.

Famed for Papists and potatoes ;

Famed for patriots, thick and thin ;
Crammed with Brutuses and Catos —

Every soul a Jacobin !

1831.] Merlin's Prophecy for I he Year 1831 !

Ireland's bonds shall soon be broken,
Spite of Byng, Fitzroy, and Hill ;

Patriot lips the words have spoken —
Blood and spoil shall have their fill.

Sounds are on the tempest winging.

What lias spoke them ? Wrath and shame.
Memories start, like serpents, stinging ;

Searching, wild, and bright, like flame.
Europe, from thy deepest prison

Rings a voice that earth must hear,
When the Spirit once has risen ; —

Man ! thy day of grandeur's near !

Italy ! thy pangs are numbered ;

Light shall through thy dungeons shine ;

Many an age thy strength had slumbered —
Freedom's blaze forsook thy shrine.

But the reign of blood and plunder —
Tremble, Austria ! shall be o'er ;

Heaven not yet has lost the thunder-
Gore shall yet be paid by gore.

Poland ! long baptized in slaughter,

To high heaven thy cry is borne,
Though thy blood was poured like water,

Though thy heart by wolves was torn !
E'en on thee a light is beaming,

Light that summons from the grave —
Light from lance and sabre streaming,

Poland ! thou'rt no more a slave !

Germany ! thou too art waking,

Like the giant from his sleep,
Heavily thy fetters shaking,

Like the heavings of the deep
Ere the storm begins to blow ;

Like the torrent on the steep,
Gathering ere it bursts below !

Who shall stand that torrent's sweep ?

Hour of mighty retribution !

Who shall stand when thou art come ?
Hour of fiery dissolution !

Strength a cypher, council dumb !
But the tempest shall be chidden,

Earth shall shine without a stain ;
Guilt beneath its mountains hidden,

Man shall be himself again !

B2

[ 4 ] [JAN.

VOLAXi), VAST AND

Poland in the beginning of the eighteenth century was one of the
largest kingdoms of Europe. It was divided into four Grand Districts.
—1. Great Poland, bordered by Lithuania, Silesia, and Pomerania. — 2.
Little Poland, bordered by Great Poland, Silesia, Hungary, and Red
Russia. — 3. Royal Prussia, lying to the north* east of Great Poland,
and bordered by Pomerania and Ducal Prussia, which formerly belonged
to Poland. — 4. Red Russia, bordered on the east by the Dnieper, on the
south by the Dneister and the Crapack Mountains, on the north by
part of Lithuania, and on the west by Little Poland. In addition to
those was the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, rather an allied principality
than a portion of the kingdom. The Duchy furnished one third of the
troops composing the army of the crown, and one quarter of the money
granted for the support of the monarch. The Duchy of Courland also
was under the protection of Poland.

The Poles, like all other nations, claim an extravagant antiquity : but
the first accounts of the country are from Tacitus, who probably received
them from the vague rumours of the Roman soldiery, or the exagge-
rated narratives of the Germans at Rome. He tells us that, however
derived from the same general stock of the northern nations, their
customs differed largely from those of the German tribes, the Poles
living in a state of singular rudeness. While he gives testimony to the
more regular habits, and even to the lofty and chivalric conceptions of
private and public life among the Germans, to their deference for
women, their obedience to a chief, their personal rights, and their he-
roic faith in battle, he describes the Poles as living almost in a state of
nature, and supporting their existence only by the chase and by plun-
der. But as they fought on foot, and with the lance and shield, he dis-
tinguishes them from the Scythians or Tartars, who fought on horseback.
Tacitus speaks of this wild, but not joyless, life of the tribes of the
desert, with the natural surprise of a man living in the central region
of the civilized earth ; yet who perhaps often envied the naked freedom,
where there was no Nero or Domitian, no bloody and malignant despot
to embitter existence. " Those barbarians," says he, (f live in a state of
liberty ; they have no idea of hope or fear ; and they prefer living in
this manner, to cultivating the earth, and taking care of their property,
or that of their relations and neighbours." But to this character, in
which he probably says all that he dared say of freedom, under the
fierce and suspicious tyranny of Rome, he adds — " They have no fear
of their fellow-creatures, nor even of the gods ; which is very extra-
ordinary in human beings. They are not accustomed to make laws nor
vows, because they are not accustomed to desire any thing which they
cannot procure for themselves."

Such is the contradictory character conjectured, rather than described,
by the great historian ; and which, without any idle attempt of our's to
vindicate the morals of a nation of the third century, betrays some igno-
rance of human nature. If the Poles desired nothing from others, they
could not be a nation of robbers. All the Gothic nations, too, had a
singular reverence for their gods ; and their defence of them was long
and desperate.

J831.J Poland, Pad and Present. 5

The great emigration of the Goths from the Baltic provinces to the
south left their ancient possessions open to the bordering nations. The
Poles took their share of the abandoned territory., and made themselves
masters of the north-east portion of what was afterwards the kingdom
of Poland.

The first mention of this people in modern history is in the year 550,
when they formed a government, under Leek, brother of Cracus, or Creek,
first Duke of Bohemia, who collected the tribes, and founded a castle,
or centre of a city. In this operation one of those omens occurred which
paganism always looked on as the voice of fate ; the workmen found an
eagle's nest in the wood which they were clearing away for the site of
the fortress. The nest was called, in Sclavonic, gniazdo ; from this the
new city was named Gnesua ; and the eagle was transferred to the ban-
ner of Poland.

The history of all the Gothic tribes is the same. Their first state is
that of scattered families ; their second, that of a tribe under a military
chieftain, elected by the suffrages of the people. The chieftain becomes
a tyrant, or transmits his power to a feeble successor. The people then
dethrone the race, break up the tyranny., and come back to the old
system of free election.

The descendants of Leek reigned a hundred years ; but the dynasty
was then subverted, and provincial military chieftains were substituted
for it. Twelve governors entitled Palatines, or Waiwodes (generals, from
Woina war, and Wodz a chief), were created. But their violences dis-
gusted the people ; and one of them, Cracus, whose conduct was an
exception, was raised to the throne by the elective voice of the nation.
In some years after his death his family were displaced by the Palatines,
and a civil war followed. The Hungarians took this opportunity to
ravage Poland, in A.D. 751; but a peasant, Przemyslas, saved his
country. Collecting together the broken forces of Poland, he approach-
ed the Hungarian camp as if with the intention of offering battle.
With his barbarian courage, he mingled civilized ingenuity ; he fixed
branches of trees on a conspicuous point of ground, which he inter-
mixed with armed men, so ranged as to give the appearance of a large
force, in order of battle. As soon as day broke, and the Hungarians
perceived, as they thought, their enemy defying them to the en-
counter, they rushed on them with contemptuous rashness. But the
Polish post retired, exhibiting what, to the astonished Hungarians 4
seemed a forest suddenly plucked up and moving away. Yet the view
of Polish flight overcame the terror at the spectacle. The Hungarians
rushed on, until they found themselves inevitably intangled in a real forest.
The Polish leader now charged, totally routed the enemy and left not a man
to tell the tale. But their camp still stood. Here too his ingenuity was ex-
erted. He dexterously clothed his men in the dresses of the dead ; divi-
ded his troops into small bodies, and sent them towards various avenues of
the camp, as if they were Hungarians returned from the battle. The stra-
tagem succeeded, the Poles were suffered freely to enter the Hungarian
camp ; once within the rampart they drew their sabres, — fell on their
unprepared enemy, and slaughtered the whole remaining multitude,
with the exception of a few fugitives, who escaped on the first onset,
and who served the Polish cause most effectually by spreading the fame
and terror of the national arms through all the countries on the Baltic",

6 Poland^ Paul and Present. [\!AN.

The conqueror could now have no competitor at home, and he was
soon after chosen Duke of Poland.

On his death the Palatines, those ceaseless disturbers, were again in
arms, each struggling for the crown. To prevent the usual effusion of
blood, an expedient was adopted which displays the Tartar origin of the
people. The crown was to be the prize of a trial of speed on horseback.
The trial was open to the whole body of the youth. On the day ap-
pointed, a multitude of gallant horsemen appeared; but soon after
starting, many of their horses fell lame ; to the astonishment of the
spectators, more were lamed every moment. Two alone at length con-
tended for the prize ; the whole multitude of riders had fallen behind,
with their chargers broken down ; " Witchcraft," and " the wrath of the
gods," were exclaimed in a thousand furious or terrified voices. But
the two candidates still held on fiercely, and it was not till after a long
display of the most desperate horsemanship that the conqueror, Lefzek,
reached the goal.

When he galloped back to lay his claim before the chieftains, and
was on the point of being chosen, he was startled by a voice proclaim-
ing that he had won the prize by treachery. Lefzek turned pale, but
haughtily denying the charge, demanded to be confronted with the ac-
cuser. The accuser was his rival in the race, who demanded that the
horses of both should be brought into the circle. Lifting up the hoof
of Lefzek's horse, he shewed that it was completely covered with iron.
" Thus/' said he, " did the traitor's horse escape the treachery/' Then
lifting up the hoof of his own horse, and shewing it also covered with
iron, " Thus," said he, " was I enabled to follow him." While the
assembled warriors were gazing on the discovery, the Pole grasped a
handful of the sand, and shewing that it was full of nails, exclaimed,
" Thus were your horses lamed. The traitor had sowed the sand with
iron spikes, and covered his horse's hoofs that he alone might escape
them. I saw the artifice, and shod mine that I might detect him. Now,
choose the traitor for your king."

Lefzek vainly attempted to defend himself. His crowd of rivals,
doubly indignant at their defeat and the injury to their horses, rushed
on him with drawn sabres, and he was cut to pieces on the spot. Wild
admiration succeeded wild justice ; they raised his detector on their
shoulders, and instantly proclaimed him king by the title of Lefzko the
Second.

In the reign of his successor, Lefzko the Third, the casual evils of an
unsettled government were made perpetual by the most fatal of all insti-
tutions. The king had a number of illegitimate sons, for whom he pro-
vided by giving them Fiefs, held of Popiel, his heir. Those Fiefs were
originally but manor-rights ; the people had freeholds in their lands, and
voices in the election to the throne : but debt, usurpation, and fraud
rapidly converted them into tyrannies, and the people into slaves. The
institution of Fiefs, thus commencing in royal vice, ended in national ruin.

A new revolution now raised the most celebrated dynasty of Poland
to the throne. The son of Popiel had died, execrated by the nation for
hereditary crimes. Poland was once more the prey of the Palatines.
The great holders of the Fiefs crushed the people. All was misery,
until all became indignation. The people at length remembered the
freedom of their birthright, and, inspired with the warlike spirit of their

1831.] Poland, Paxl and Present. 7

Sclavonic fathers, rose in arms, disavowed the dictation of the feudal
lords, and demanded the right of free election to the throne. The great
nobles were awed, and the electors assembled at the city of Kruswic.
But in their triumph they had been improvident enough to meet,, with-
out considering how they were to provide for the subsistence of so vast
a multitude. They must now have dispersed, or fought for their food,
but for the wisdom of one man, Piast, an opulent inhabitant of the city.
Knowing the rashness of popular haste, and the evils which it might
produce, he had, with fortunate sagacity, collected large magazines of
provision beforehand. On the first cry of famine, he threw them open
to his countrymen. In their gratitude for a relief so unexpected, and
their admiration of his foresight, the multitude shouted out that " they
had found the only king worthy of Poland." The other candidates
were forced to yield. The great feudatories, more willing to see an in-
ferior placed above them than to see a rival made their sovereign, joined
in the popular acclamation. The citizen Piast was proclaimed king.
He justified the choice by singular intelligence, virtue and humanity ;
and when, in 861, he died, left his memory adored by the people, and
his throne to his son and to a dynasty which was not extinguished for
five hundred years.

In the reign of his descendant, Miecislaw, Poland was converted to
Christianity. The king had married a Christian princess, Dambrowcka,
the daughter of Boleslas, Duke of Bohemia; the condition demanded
by his queen was, that he should renounce paganism. The condition
may have been an easy one to the monarch, whose sense and manliness,
if they knew but little of Christianity, must have long scorned the gross
vices arid flagrant absurdities of the national superstition. He submitted
to all the restrictions of the new faith with the zeal of a determined
convert ; dismissed the seven partners which pagan license had given to
the royal couch, sent an order through his realm for the demolition of all
the idols, and, to the wonder of his people, submitting the royal person
into the hands of a Roman monk, was baptized.

The former religion of Poland was a modification of the same worship
of the elements, or the powers presumed to command the fates of man,
which was to be found in every region of the north ; and which, with
additional and poetic elegance, was the adopted religion of Greece and
Rome. They had their sovereign of the skies, the lord of the thunder,
by the name of Jassem. Liada was their ruler of war. To this Jupiter
and Mars, they added a Venus, named, less harmoniously, Dzidzielia.
Two inseparable brothers, their Lei and ]?ollel, had the history and
attribates of the Greek Castor and Pollux. Drie wanna was scarcely
more different from the Greek Diana in attributes than in name. They
had a goddess of the earth and its produce, Marzanna, their Ceres; and
their deity of terrors, Niam, the Pluto, whose oracle at Guesna was the
awe and inspiration of the north. They had one deity more which
escaped Greek invention, unless it were represented by the " fatal
sisters three," Ziwic, the " mighty and venerable," the " disposer of
the lives of man."

In 1370; by the death of Casimir, the crown of Poland finally past
away from the Piast dynasty. They had already worn it for a longer
period than any dynasty of Europe, 500 years. Casimir was one of
those singular mixtures of truth and error, strong passions, and great

n Poland, Pu ai and Present. [JAN.

uncultured powers, which are tbinul among the heroes of semi-barbarian
lite. The chief p;irt of his reign was passed in war, in which he was
generally successful, defeating the Teutonic knights, who invaded him
from Prussia, the Russians, and the wild tribes who were perpetually
making irruptions into the states of their more civilized neighbours.
Casimir was memorable for having been the first to give the Jews those
privileges which make Poland their chief refuge to this day. After the
loss of his first wife, Ann of Lithuania, he had married the daughter of
the Landgrave of Hesse. But like humbler men, he had found the yoke
matrimonial too heavy for his philosophy. His queen was a shrew, and
in the license of the age he took the beautiful Esther, a Jewess, to supply
her place. The Jewess, who was a woman of striking attainments as
well as of distinguished personal attractions, obtained an unequalled
ascendancy over the king ; he suffered her to educate his two daughters
by her, as Jewesses, and gradually gave way to all her demands for pro-
tection and privilege to her unfortunate people.

But he had the higher merit of being the legislator of Poland, or
rather the protector of those feelings by which nature tells every human
being that he is entitled to freedom. The abuse and the reform are less
a part of the history of Poland than of human wrong and its obvious
remedy.

For a long course of years the lords of the Fiefs had pronounced the
people born on their estates to be slaves, incapable of following their own
will, or removing from the Fief without the permission of their masters.
Casimir, roused by the complaints of his subjects, and justly indignant
at the usurpation, abolished those claims, and declared every farmer at
liberty, if injured by the proprietor of the soil, to sell his property and
go where he pleased. A formidable part of the abuse was the right
claimed by the proprietors of giving their tenants as pledges to each other
for their debts; which had produced the most cruel sufferings, for the
pledge was a prisoner and an exile, perhaps for life. Casimir indig-
nantly broke up this tissue of crime ; framed a code giving the people
equality of right writh their lords, and while he made the oppressive
nobles his enemies, gained from the nation the patriotic and immortal
title of " King of the Farmers/'

It had been the custom of the lords to seize the property of a tenant
who died without children. The king declared this to be an abuse, and
enacted that the property should go to the nearest relative. A depu-
tation from the peasantry, who had come to lay their grievances before
him, were asked — " Who have assailed you ? were they men ?" " They
were our landlords/' was the answer. " Then," said Casimir,, " if you
were men too, had you no sticks nor stones ?"

As he was without sons, he appointed his nephew Lewis, King of Hun-
gary, his successor. The deputation of the nobles sent to convey this in-
telligence, exhibited that free spirit of the north, which about a century
before, on a day never to be forgotten by Englishmen, the famous 19th of
June, 1215, had boldly extorted the great Charter from the fears of the
bigot and tyrant John. * Lewis was compelled, as the price of his crown,
to sign an instrument, exempting the Polish nation from all additional
taxes,, and all pretences for royal subsidies; abolishing the old and ruin-
ous custom of living at free choice on the people in his journeys : and
as an effectual barrier against kingly ambition, the vice of those days of

1830.] Poland, Past and Present. 9

ferocity and folly, pledging the king to reimburse out of his personal
means all the public losses produced by hostilities with his neighbours.
The Act was signed by Lewis for himself and his successors, and was
solemnly declared to be a fundamental law of the realm. No Act had
ever made nearer approaches to laying the foundations of a rational
liberty ; yet none was ever more calamitous. It wanted but a degree of
property and civilization in the lower orders capable of applying and
preserving it. But the nobility were still the only NATION. They
seized all the benefits of the law, established an oligarchy, made the
king a puppet, the people doubly slaves, the crown totally elective, and
the nation poor and barbarous, without the virtues of poverty, or the
redeeming boldness of barbarism.

Lewis ascended the throne ; broke his promises ; was forced to fly from
the kingdom ; entered into a new conciliation, for which he paid by new
concessions, confirming the power of the noble oligarchy ; was again
driven to Hungary, where he attempted to take his revenge, by dismem-
bering the kingdom ; and after giving Silesia to the Marquis of Bran-
denburgh, the fatal foundation of the subsequent claim of Prussia, gave
some of the Polish frontier provinces bordering on Hungary, to the
Empress Queen, the foundation of another subsequent claim. This
guilty transaction was the ground of one of those acts of wild justice
which are so conspicuous in the Polish history.

At the diet held in Buda, where the grant to the empress was made,
only fourteen Polish senators could be found to attend ; and of those but
one, the bishop of Wadislaw, had the manliness to protest against the
treason. He communicated the act to Granowski, the Great General of
the kingdom, who convoked an assembly of the states, to which the
monarch was invited. The thirteen senators had been seized in the mean
time, were instantly beheaded, and their bodies placed round the throne,
covered with the tapestry.

The monarch, unacquainted with their seizure, was led to his seat in
full solemnity. The Great General advanced, and in the name of the
states of Poland sternly charged him with the whole catalogue of his
offences against the constitution ; declared the compact of the diet of
Buda null and void, and then, flinging off the tapestry, pointed to the
ghastly circle of monitors there. " Behold/' exclaimed he to the
startled king, " the fate of all who shall prefer slavery to freedom !
There lie the traitors who gave up their country to ^terve the caprices of
their king \"

The lesson was expressive. Lewis resolved to abandon a country in
which right was so loud-tongued, and justice so rapid. Naming his son-
in-law Sigismond, of Brandenburg, governor in his absence, a heir, he set
out for Hungary once more. But, dying on his way, the nobles annulled
the choice, and gave the throne to the Princess Hedwige, a daughter of
the late king, on condition of her marrying according to the national
will.

Her marriage commenced the second famous dynasty of Poland, the
Jagellons. Jagellon, Duke of Lithuania, was still unconverted to
Christianity, but he had been distinguished for the intrepidity and justice
which form the grand virtues in the eyes of early nations. The prin-
cess selected him, and he soon distinguished himself among the princes
of the north. With a magnanimity which seems almost incredible in
his age, he refused the sovereignty of Bohemia, from which the people

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. 61. C

10 Poland, Vnst and Present. £ JAN.

had deposed their profligate king, Wenceslas, and as the unparalleled
achievement of northern war, broke the power of the Teutonic knights
upon the field ; of their immense host of 150,000 men, slaying
50,000, taking 11,000, and leaving among the dead the grand master
and three hundred knights.

A striking and characteristic scene, worthy of the finest ef-
forts of the pencil, preluded the battle. Jagellon, to draw the
enemy off some strong ground, had feigned a retreat. The knights
looked on him as already defeated, and the grand master, in the spirit
of his Scythian ancestors, sent him as an emblem of his fate, two
bloody swords with a message. " Our master," said the deputies, " is
not afraid to furnish you with arms to give you courage, for we are on
the point of giving battle. If the ground on which you are encamped
is too narrow for you to fight upon, we shall retire and give you room."
The taunt only inflamed the indignation of the Polish nobles, but
Jagellon calmly took the swords, and with a smile thanked the grand
master for so early giving up his arms. " I receive them/' said the
bold northern, " with rejoicing ; they are an irresistible omen. This
day we shall be conquerors : our enemies already surrender their sabres."
Instantly rising, he ordered the signal to be made for a general advance ;
the army rushed on with sudden enthusiasm ; the boasted discipline of
the knights was useless before this tide of fiery valour; their ranks were
helplessly trampled down ; and their whole chivalry destroyed upon the
ground. The taunt had been proudly answered.

The affairs of Poland now became mingled, for the first time, with
the politics of western Europe. In 1571 Segismond Augustus died,
the last of the race of Jagellon, an honoured name, which had screened
the follies of his successors during the long course of two hundred
years. The vacancy of the throne was contested by a crowd of princes.
But the dexterity and munificence of the celebrated Catharine de
Medicis carried the election in favour of her second son, Henry Duke of
Anjou, brother of Charles the Ninth. The diet which established this
prince's claim, was still more memorable for the formation of the " Pacta
Conventa/' or great written convention of the kings of Poland, by
which they bound themselves to the commonwealth. The previous
bond had been a tacit, or verbal, agreement to observe the laws and
customs. But experience had produced public caution ; and by the final
clause of the te Padta Conventa/' the king elect now declared, that " if
he should violate any of his engagements to the nation, the oath of
allegiance was thenceforth to be void." The crown had, until this
period, been hereditary, liable, however, to the national rejection.
From the era of the Pacta Conventa it became wholly elective; an
example single among European governments, and giving warning of
its error by the most unbroken succession of calamities in the history of
modern nations.

Poland was still to have a slight respite. On the vacancy after the
death of Wadislas in 1648, Casimir, the last descendant of the Jagellon
blood, was found in a cloister ; where he had entered the order of Jesuits.
Popular affection placed him on the throne. He governed wisely a state
now distracted with civil faction and religious dispute. At length grown
weary of the sceptre, he resigned it for the crosier of the Abbot of St.
Germain de Pres, in France ; and enjoyed in this opulent and calm
retreat a quiet for which he had been fitted by nature, and which he

1831.] Poland, Paul and Prcseiil. 11

must have sought in vain among the furious spirits and clashing sabres
that constantly surrounded and disturbed the throne of his ancestors.

The hero of Poland, John Sobieski, the next king, fought his way to
the crown by along series of exploits of the most consummate intrepidity
and skill. His defeat of the Grand Vizier, Kara Mustapha, in Podolia,
finally extinguished all rivalry, and he was placed on the throne by accla-
mation. All his conceptions were magnificent; on the peace with the Porte,
he sent his- ambassador with a train of seven hundred ; a number which
offended the pride of the Turk, and gave rise to one of those pithy sar-
casms, which enliven diplomacy. The Polish ambassador who had
been detained for some days outside the walls of Constantinople, by his
own haughty demand, that the Vizier should come to meet him at the
gates, required a supply of provisions for his attendants. " Tell the
ambassador," answered the vizier, " that if he is come to take Constanti-
nople, he has not men enough; but if it is only to represent his master,
lie has too many. But if he wants food, tell him that it is as easy for my
master the Sultan to feed seven hundred Poles at the gates of the city,
as it is to feed the seven thousand Poles who are now chained in his
gallies."

The ambassador was at length admitted ; and resolving to dazzle the
Turks by a magnificence, unseen before, he ordered some of his horses
to be shod with silver, so loosely fastened on, that the shoes were scattered
through the streets. Some of them were immediately brought to the
Vizier ; who smiling at the contrivance, observed, " The Infidel has
shoes of silver for his horses, but a head of lead for himself. His repub-
lic is too poor for this waste. He might make a better use of his
silver at home."

But Sobieski' s great triumph was to come. The Turkish army, strong-
ly reinforced, made a sudden irruption into the Austrian territories ;
swept all resistance before them, and commenced the siege of Vienna.
The year 1683 is still recorded among the most trying times of Europe?.
The Austrian empire seemed to be on the verge of dissolution. But the
fall of Vienna would have been more than the expulsion of the Austrian
family from its states; it would have been the overthrow of the barriers
of western Europe. All crowns were already darkened by the sullen
and terrible superiority of Mahometanism. The possession of the Aus-
trian capital would have fixed the Turk in the most commanding position
of Germany, Vienna would have been a second Constantinople.

The siege was pressed with the savage fury of the Turk. The Em-
peror and his household had fled. The citizens, assailed by famine,
disease, and the sword, were in despair. Sobieski was now summoned,
less by the entreaties of Austria than by the voice of the Christian
world. At the head of the Polish cavalry, which lie had made the finest
force of the North, he galloped to the assistance of the beleagured city,
attacked the grand vizier in his entrenchments, totally defeated him, and
drove the remnants of the Turkish host, which had proclaimed itself in-
vincible, out of the Austrian dominions. No service of such an extent had
been wrought by soldiership within memory. Vienna was one voice
of wonder and gratitude, and when the archbishop, on the day of the
Te Deum, ascended to preach the thanksgiving sermon, he, with an
allusion almost justifiable, at such a moment, took for his text, —
" There was sent a man from God, whose name was John."

The death of this celebrated man in his 7^th year, and nfter a pros-

O 2

12 Poland, Past and Present. [JAN,

perous reign of twenty-three years, left Poland once more to the perils
of a contested throne. Frederic Augustus, Elector of Saxony, at last
was chosen. No choice could have been more disastrous. Augustus had
promised to restore Livonia to Poland j but it was in possession of the
Swedes, who were now rapidly rising to the highest distinction as a mili-
tary power. Charles the Twelfth, the lion of the north, had filled his
countrymen with his own spirit ; and the attempt to wrest Livonia from
the first warrior of the age was visited with deadly retribution. Augustus
had formed a league with the King of Denmark, and the Czar, Peter the
Great — a man, whose rude virtues were made to redeem the indolent and
sullen character of his barbarian country. The Swedish king rushed
upon the Saxon and Polish forces like a whirlwind; they were totally de-
feated. In the next campaign, a still larger army was defeated at Clissow
with still more dreadful slaughter. An assembly held at Warsaw, under
Charles, now declared Augustus incapable of the crown. Charles pro-
posed to give the sovereignty to the third son of Sobieski : but the prince
magnanimously refused a throne which he considered the right of his
elder brothers, both of whom were in a Saxon fortress. Starislas
Leizinski was at this period accidentally deputed to Charles on some
business of the senate. The king was struck with his manly appearance.
" How can we proceed to an election," said the Deputy, (( while James
and Constantine Sobieski are in a dungeon ?" — " How can we deliver
your Republic/' exclaimed Charles, abruptly, " if we do not elect a new
king ?" The suggestion was followed by offering the sceptre to Stanislas,
who was soon after., in 1705, proclaimed monarch of Poland. Charles
now plunged furiously into Saxony, and broke the power of the Elector.
But the caprice of war is proverbial. The Russians had been at last
taught to fighfc even by their defeats. The ruinous battle of Pultowa
drove Charles from the field and the throne. Stanislas fled ; Augustus was
restored in 1710, and Poland was left to acquire strength, by a temporary
rest, for new calamities. In the winter of 1735, Russia was delivered
from the only enemy that had threatened her ruin — Charles was killed at
the siege of Fredericshall.

The reign of Peter had raised Russia into an European power.
Strength produced ambition, and the successors of Peter began to inter-
fere closely with the policy of Poland. The death of Frederick the
Third, in 17^4, gave the first direct opportunity of influencing the
election, and Couut Stanislas Poniatowski, whose personal graces had
recommended him to the empress,, and whose subserviency made him a
fit instrument for the Russian objects, was chosen king in 1764.
Bribes and the bayonet were his claims, yet there were times when he
exhibited neither the dependence of a courtier nor the weakness of a
slave.

Anew era was now to begin in the history of Poland. Religious per-
secution was her ruin. The Reformation had been extensively spread
in the provinces. From an early peri-od the Polish hierarchy, devoted
to Rome, had always exerted the most rancorous spirit against the Pro-
testants. A succession of persecuting decrees had been made^ chiefly
from the beginning of the 10th century. But by the general disturb-
ances of the government, or the wisdom of the monarchs, they had
nearly fallen into oblivion. But in the interregnum between the death
of Frederic, and the election of Stanislas, the popish party carried in
the convocation-diet a series of tyrannical measures, prohibiting the

1831.] Poland, Past and Present. , 13

Protestants, or dissidents, as they were called, from the exercise of their
religion, and from all situations and offices under government. The
dissidents, fearful of still more violent measures, appealed to foreign
governments. Russia, eager to interfere, immediately marched in a
body of troops to support their claims. A popish Confederacy, long
celebrated after wards in the unhappy history of the kingdom, was formed
in 1767> and from that hour Poland had scarcely an hour's respite from
civil war.

Poland was now ripe for ruin. In 1769, on pretence of a plague,
the King of Prussia advanced a body of troops into Polish Prussia. The
possession of this province had long been coveted by the wily monarch.
Its position between his German dominions and Eastern Prussia, ren-
dered it important. He now found the kingdom in confusion, and he
determined to seize his prize. To make it secure, he proposed a par-
tition to Austria and Russia ; to the Austrian emperor, at an interview
at Niess, in Silesia, in 1769, or in the following year at Newstadt ; to
the Empress of Russia, by an embassy of his brother Henry to St.
Petersburg. This infamous treaty was signed at St. Petersburg in 1772.
Stanislas had no power to resist this tyranny, but he attempted to remove
its chief evils by giving his people a free constitution in 1791. The
neighbourhood of freedom again brought down the wrath of Russia.
A Russian army of 70;000 men were instantly under orders. The
Empress's brief commands were, " that the constitution should be
abolished.'' The King of Prussia, Frederic William, provisionally
seized Dantzic, Thorn, and a part of Great Poland. The Russian
ambassador entered the diet with troops, and forced the assembly to
comply with his requisitions. The "nation was indignant. Kosciusko,
who with the nobles had fled, now returned from Leipsic, put himself at
the head of a multitude rather than an army, defeated several bodies of
Russians with great slaughter, reinstated the king, and was soon at the
head of 70,000 men : with those he also repulsed the Prussian army. But
he was suddenly attacked by Suwarrow, and after a long conflict was
utterly defeated and taken prisoner. Suwarrow then marched against
Warsaw, which he took by storm, murdering in the suburb of Praga
upwards of 30,000 human beings of all ages. In 1 795 the third Par-
tition of Poland was effected. Stanislas was sent to St. Petersburg,
where in 1798 he died. The heroic Kosciusko was subsequently libe-
rated by the Emperor Paul, and after residing in France up to the
period of the allied invasion, died at Soleure, Oct. 15, 1817, in his 65th
year; — a name consecrated to eternal memory.

For this hideous conspiracy of ambition and blood, Poland was sternly
avenged by the French armies. Her oppressors were broken to the dust.
From this period she began to recover. Napoleon raised her to a partial
degree of independence. The congress of Vienna made her a kingdom
once more, but still a Russian kingdom. The time may be at hand,
when she shall have a really independent existence. It will depend on
her own virtues, whether the opportunity of this great hour of change
shall be thrown away.

The narrative of the late insurrection is still confined to a few scat-
tered events. On the 1st of December the Russian superintendant of the
school for military engineers in Warsaw, where some hundreds of the
Polish youth were educated, had the insolence to order two of the young
officers to be corporally punished. The students instantly rose against

14 Poland, Pasi and Present. [JAN.

the author of the indignity, drove him out, and rushed to the quarters
of a regiment of the native guards, calling on them to rise against the
oppressors. The troops immediately followed the call, the spirit spread,
the Russian soldiery were everywhere gallantly and instantly attacked
and routed. The Grand Duke Constantine, the chief object of popular
hatred, was assaulted in his palace at night by the troops, was wounded
in the head, and escaped with difficulty to the suburb of Praga, at the
opposite side of the river, where a Russian detachment had its quarters.
A great deal of confused and, as its appears, sanguinary, fighting took
place in Warsaw during the night, and an extraordinary number of
Russian officers of high rank had fallen, probably surprised in
their quarters, or exposing themselves in this desperate state of their
affairs. By morning the citizens were masters of Warsaw, the Russians
were either expelled or captured ; Constantine had declared his intention
of offering no immediate resistance to the public proceedings, a burgher
guard had been formed, a provisional government of the first nobles of
the country installed, a general appointed, and a national call made to
all Poles serving in the Russian, Prussian, and other foreign armies, to
join their countrymen. Deputations had been also sent through the
provinces, and to St. Petersburgh. And, with the winter to impede the
advance of the Russian army, and with the spirit existing in Europe, the
Poles contemplated a triumph over their long degradation.

We are no lovers of revolutions. We know their almost necessary
evil, their fearful summoning of the fiercer passions of our nature, the
sullen, civil hatred by which brother is armed against brother, the long
ordeal of furious licence, giddy anarchy, and promiscuous slaughter !
Of all this we are fully aware. The crime of the man who lets loose
the revolutionary plague, for revenge, love of gain, or love of power, is
beyond all measure and all atonement.

The first revolution of France, in 1789, was an abhorred effort of an
ambition which nothing could satiate, and nothing could purify. The
late revolution was a thing of strong necessity, less an assault on the
privileges of royalty, than a vindication of human nature. The people
who could have succumbed under so base and insolent a violation of
kingly promises, would have virtually declared themselves slaves, and
fit for nothing but slaves. The Polish revolution is justified by every
feeling which makes freedom of religion, person, and property dear to
man. Poland owes no allegiance to Russia. The bayonet gave, and the
bayonet will take away. So perish the triumph that scorns justice, and
so rise the holy claim of man, to enjoy unfettered the being that God has
given him.

Nothing in history is equal in guilty and ostentatious defiance of all
principle to the three Partitions of Poland. The pretences for the seizure
of the Polish provinces were instantly the open ridicule of all Europe.
But Russia, Prussia, and Austria had the power ; they scorned to wait
for the right ; they as profligately scorned to think of the torrents of
blood that must be poured out in the struggle by the indignant Poles.
Thousands of gallant lives sacrificed in the field ; tens of thousands de-
stroyed by the more bitter death of poverty, exile, the dungeon, and the
broken heart ; the whole productive power of a mighty kingdom ex-
tinguished for half a century ; fifteen millions of human beings with-
drawn from the general stock of European cultivation, and branded into
hewers of wood and drawers of water, the helots of the modern world !

1831.] Poland, Past and Present. 15

were a price that the remorseless lust of dominion never stopped to
contemplate. Its armies were ordered to march, and the fire and
sword executed the law.

The change of the duchy of Warsaw into a kingdom by Russia was a
royal fraud. The name of independence had none of the realities of
freedom. The governor was a tyrant, publicly declared to be unfit even
for a Russian throne ! The only authority was the Russian sword.
Every act of government emanate'd from St. Petersburg}!. The whole
nation was in a state of surveillance. Every man who dared to utter a
manly sentiment j every writer whose views did not perfectly coincide
writh the dictates of the Russian cabinet ; every mind superior to the
brute, was in perpetual danger of Siberia. What would be the feeling
of England, if a doubt of the wisdom of a ministry whispered over the
table, much more declared in a public journal, would expose the doubter
to instant denunciation by a spy, to instant seizure by a police-officer,
and then, without further inquiry — without trial, without being con-
fronted with the accuser — to banishmeut to the farthest corner of the
world, to a region of horrors ten thousand miles from every face that
he had ever known ? How is it possible to wonder that men should
feel indignant under this hideous state of being? that they should disdain
life thus shamed and stung ? that they should rejoicingly embrace the
first opportunity to struggle for the common rights of existence, and
think all things better than to leave the legacy of chains to their chil-
dren ?

This is no fancied picture. There is not an individual under any of
the despotic thrones of Europe, whose liberty does not depend on the
contempt or the caprice of the monarch ; who may not be undone in a
moment at the nod of a Minister ; who dares to utter a sentiment doubt-
ing the wisdom or integrity of any man in power. Where is the political
philosopher of the Continent, the profound investigator of the principles
by which nations are made wiser and better, the generous defender of
the privileges of the nation, the honourable and manly detector of abuses
and errors? No wrhere; or, if any where, in the dungeon. Those
characters, by which the whole greatness of England has grown, her
past light and strength, and on which she must rest for her noblest
dependence in all her future days of struggle, on the Continent are all
proscribed. How long would a man like Burke have been suffered to
unmask the prodigality of a continental court? How long would a
Locke have lived after developing the nakedness of the divine right of
kings ? How soon would the dungeon have stifled the eloquence of a
Chatham upbraiding the criminal folly of a profligate ministry ! How
long since would every leading mind of our legislature, every public
journal, and every vigorous and honest writer of England, have been
silenced, or persecuted to their ruin, by the hand of power, if their lot
had been cast on the Continent ? Hating, as we sincerely do, all unpro-
voked violence, and deprecating all unnecessary change, it is impossible
for us, without abandoning our human feelings, to refuse the deepest
sympathy to the efforts of our fellow-men, in throwing off a despotism
ruinous to every advance of nations, degrading to every faculty of the
human mind, and hostile to every principle alike of Justice, Virtue, and
Christianity.

Our knowledge of the preparation of the Polish people is still imper-
fect ; but we must believe that they would not have so daringly defied

16 Poland, Past and Present. [JAN.

the gigantic power of Russia without already " counting the cost."
Hitherto all has been success. The Russian Viceroy has been expelled ;
the Russian troops have been defeated. The armies of Russia have not
ventured to advance. The Polish provisional government has despatched
agents to France, and, we are told, communications have been made to
this country. Here they will have the wishes of every honest man ! If
the late French Revolution could justify but slight difference of opinions
among sincere men, the Polish Revolution can justify none. It is a
rising, not of the people against their monarch, but of the oppressed
against the oppressor, of the native against the stranger, of the betrayed
against the betrayer, of the slave against the tyrant ; of a nation, the
victim of the basest treachery and the most cruel suffering in the annals
of mankind, against the traitor, the spoiler, the remorseless author
of their suffering. Their cause is a triumph in itself; and may the
great Being who " hateth iniquity, and terribly judgeth the oppressor,"
shield them in the day of struggle, and give a new hope to mankind by
the new victory of their freedom !

A MOORE-ISH MELODY.

OH ! give me not unmeaning Smiles,

Though worldly clouds may fly before them;
But let me see the sweet blue isles

Of radiant eyes when Tears wash o'er them.
Though small the fount where they begin,

They form — 'tis thought in many a sonnet —
A Flood to drown our sense of sin ;

But oh ! Love's ark still floats upon it.

Then give me tears — oh ! hide not one ;

The best affections are but flowers,
That faint beneath the fervid sun,

And languish once a day for showers.
Yet peril lurks in every gem —

For tears are worse than swords in slaughter ;
And man is still subdued by them,

As humming-birds are shot with water !

1831.J [ 17 ]

DEFOE: HTS LIFE AND WRITINGS.*

FEW writers have ever lived who have encountered, though in a
somewhat limited sphere, more numerous vicissitudes, or been the
subject of more undeserved calumny than the author of " Robinson
Crusoe." He has touched the highest and the lowest point of honour
and disgrace. At one time a companion of the nobility — a counsellor
of princes ; at another a man of the people, in bad odour at Court, but
whose acquaintance was deemed an honour by the commonalty ; at a
third, a proscribed adventurer — a sort of Paine in society — a
subject for the pillory — a rebel — and a mark for small wits to shoot
at ; the experience of Defoe, throughout an unusually protracted
life, has established the fact (were any additional proof needed), that
he who presumes to make men wiser or better than they are ; who puts
himself forth as a reformer, whether in religion, politics, or morals,
must make up his mind to bear in turn the abuse of all parties ; to be
the victim of ingratitude proportioned tp the benefits he has conferred
on society ; to be kicked — spit upon — and trampled under foot by the
lowest of the low, the basest of the base ; to be cursed by those whom
he has blessed — in a word, to be anathematized and excommunicated
of men. The way to succeed in life is to wink at the vices of the age,
to be chary of its errors of thought and practice, to agree with it, to
flatter it, to walk side by side with it. The world, like a man with the
gout, cannot endure rough usage; hence those have always been in best
repute as moralists and men of sense, who have treated it with lenity
and forbearance. To walk with the world with an orthodox steady
pace, neither hastening before, nor lagging behind it, is in nine cases out
often to ensure its favour ; but to step forward, like a fugleman, from the
ranks of society, no matter how just be one's claims to such distinction,
is at once to rouse, first, the world's attention — next, its envy — and lastly, its
bitter, inextinguishable hatred. Defoe, unfortunately, was an aspirant
of this class. From earliest life he panted for distinction as a reformer,
and paid the penalty of such zeal by an indiscriminate abuse of the
age which he endeavoured to improve. But time, the great reformer —
time who sinks the falsehood, and draws forth the truth, let it lie
deeper than ever plummet sounded — has at last done him justice, and
Defoe, so long the mere scurrilous pamphleteer, the trashy novelist —
the vulgar satirist — the object of Pope's illiberal sneer — " earless on
high stood unabashed Defoe" — has now, by the just award of posterity,
taken his station in literature in the very front rank as a novelist, and
but a few degrees below Swift as a party- writer.

It is of this prolific author that we here intend to say a few words,
taking for our guide Mr. Walter Wilson's late able and elaborate biogra-

Daniel Foe— or Defoe, as he chose to call himself — was the son of a
butcher, and was born in the City of London, A.D. 1661, in the Parish
of St. Giles's Cripplegate. Both his parents were Non-conformists, and
early in life imbued Daniel with these strict religious principles which
gleam like a rainbow through the glooms and the clouds of his polemical
writings. When just emerging from childhood, he was placed under

* Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Daniel Defoe. By Walter Wilson, Esq. of
the Inner Temple. 3 vols. Hurst, Chance, and Co. 1 830.

M.M. New Series. VOL. XI.— No. 61. D

18 Defoe: his Life and Writings. [JAN.

the superintendence of a Presbyterian minister, the Rev. Samuel An-
nesley — an excellent man and a good scholar, to whom in after age he
did justice in an elegy, which, however, possesses more affection than
poetry. f< As a boy," says Mr. Wilson, " Defoe displayed those light
and buoyant spirits, that vivacity of humour, and cheerfulness of tem-
per, which rendered him a favourite with his companions. lie seems
to have been a boy also of remarkable courage, a feature which strongly
marked his future character. We are therefore not surprised that it
led him sometimes into disputes and contests with other lads of a similar
age ; for he was both from habit and principle an enemy to the doc-
trine of non-resistance."

It was during the period of his childhood that a circumstance occurred
which strongly illustrates the character of Defoe, as also that of his
age. During a certain portion of the reign of Charles II., when the
nation was under alarm respecting the restoration of a Popish Govern-
ment, young Defoe, apprehensive that the printed Bible would become
rare, or be locked up in an unknown tongue, applied himself diligently,
together with many other Non-conformists, night and day, to the task
of copying it out in MS. ; nor once halted in his exertions till he had
fairly transcribed the whole book, a feat which at that early age he
looked on with enthusiasm, as if thereby destined to be the ark
of his religion's safety ; and at a late period of life with satisfaction
mixed with surprise, at the extent of his juvenile simplicity. At
the age of fourteen, Defoe was for the first time sent from home,
to an academy at Newington Green, under the direction of the
Rev. Charles Morton. This was one of those schools founded by the
Non-conformists, as substitutes for the English universities, from which
the law had excluded them. It was conducted on principles pretty
similar to those of the present dissenting establishments of Hackney
and Mill-hill ; and in its course of education comprised the languages,
logic, rhetoric, the mathematics, and philosophy. Divinity was, how-
ever, the chief subject of tuition; the Non-conformists made every
thing subservient to this ; hence numbers of young men were educated
at their schools, who in after years distinguished themselves by their
pre-eminent theological qualifications. Defoe's attainments at Newing-
ton, though desultory, were of a superior order. He was master of five
languages, was well acquainted with the theory and practice of the
English Constitution, and had studied with success the mathematics,
natural philosophy, logic, geography, and history. His knowledge
of ecclesiastical history was also considerable, and such as subsequently
rendered him a formidable antagonist to the established church. As his
parents intended him for the clerical profession, he remained at Newing-
ton the full term, that is to say, five years ; at the expiration of which
time he returned home, and being diverted by the activity of his mind
from entering the priesthood, turned his attention exclusively to the
politics of the day.

He was now about twenty-one years of age, and never did an active
enterprising youth enter upon life at a period more pregnant with event-
ful incidents, and more favourable for the development of political
sagacity. Charles II., the traitor — the libertine — the infidel — the pen-
sioner of France and Holland — was just closing a reign unredeemed by
the slightest public or private virtue. The nation, inured to the doc-
trine of passive obedience, slept in a state of sulky tranquillity, trampled

1881.] Defoe: his Life and Writings. 19

under foot by the high churchmen on the one side, and the aristocratic
laity on the other. Public morality there was none, of public hypocrisy
an abundance ; religion was at a discount, patriotism below par. The
exterior forms, however, of worship were kept up with punctilious
severity, and of persecution there was quite enough on the part of
the high churchmen towards the dissenters to throw the Inquisition into
the shade. The bishops, of course, were the first to " beat the drum
ecclesiastic" of intolerance ; the magistrates followed ; the constabulary
kept them company, passibus cequis ; till at length the whole country — ;
priest-ridden and law-ridden, as it ever has been — was persuaded to
believe, that to be a dissenter was to be a rogue, a vagabond, and
an infidel.

On the accession of James II. this intolerant spirit, so far from dimi-
nishing, increased, if possible, in acerbity. James himself, though
a bigot, was not ill-inclined towards the dissenters, whom he tacitly
encouraged, hoping thereby to weaken the power of the church, and
so bring forward his darling popery : but though the monarch was
thus favourably disposed towards the dissenters, the nation's prejudices
against them were artfully kept alive by the clergy, who. in those
troubled times, possessed an influence over their countrymen, which it
requires no great sagacity to foresee they can never possess again.
Defoe was no careless observer of this reign of terror, which he
exposed in a manner and with a spirit that soon brought down upon him,
that most rancorous of all hatred — the odium theologicum. He enlisted
himself in the cause of the dissenters, fought their battles with intre-
pidity, exposed the persecutions of their enemies — their folly — their
madness — their atrocity — and was recompensed for such disinterested-
ness by the meagre consolation, that virtue is its own reward.

But not polemics only, politics equally engaged his attention. At the
accession of James II., when, in return for his promise of support, the
bishops inculcated every where the doctrines of divine right- and passive
obedience, Defoe (then but twenty- four years of age) was among the
first to fathom the hypocrisy of both parties. With James in parti-
cular he was very early disgusted : he could not but perceive, that
nothing was to be expected from the liberality or toleration of a monarch
to whom a servile parliament, at. the very opening of his reign, was
willing to allow two millions and a half annually without check or hin-
drance, and whom the high churchmen supported in their pulpits as a
direct emanation from the Deity ; and accordingly was one of the
earliest to engage heart and soul in that ill-planned insurrection which
terminated in the destruction of the Duke of Monmouth and his fol-
lowers.

It was not without difficulty that, after the disastrous battle of
Bridgewater, Defoe escaped from the west of England, and was
enabled to resume those commercial occupations by which he had
hitherto creditably supported himself. The nature of his business at this
period has been variously represented : his enemies were fond of giving
out that he was a paltry retail shop-keeper, but it appears that he was
a hose-factor, or middle man between the manufacturer and the retail
dealer. " This agency concern," says his biographer, " he carried on
for some years in Freeman's-court, Cornhill, from 1(385 to 1695. When
he had been in business about two years, he judged it expedient to link
himself more closely with his fellow citizens, and was admitted a livery-

D 2

20 Defoe : his Life and Writings. £JAN.

man of London on the 26th of January, 1687-8, having claimed his
freedom by birth."

We return to the politics of this eminent writer. After the execution
of Monmouth, and the utter overthrow of his adherents, James II. no
longer scrupled to avow his predilection for popery. His first plan was
to raise some new regiments, and officer them by papists : his second, to
import Catholic priests from the country ; and his third, to erect chapels
and seminaries for the youth of that persuasion, and even to consecrate
a popish bishop in his own chapel at Windsor. He published, more-
over, a royal declaration, by virtue of which all penal and sanguinary
laws, in matters of religion, were to be suspended, all oaths and tests to
be suppressed, and all dissenters, whether Protestant or Catholic, to be
held equally capable of public employments. This, at first sight,
appeared a fine triumph for the non-conformists ; but Defoe soon pene-
trated the hypocrisy of the declaration, that it was nothing more nor
less than a plan to engraft popery, under the specious form of toleration,
on the ruins of the established church.

Readers of the present day can scarcely form an idea of the horror with
which Protestants of ail persuasions, at this particular epoch, regarded
the " damnable and idolatrous" doctrines of Catholicism. It was a perfect
mania. The pope was synonimous with anti-Christ ; the mass-houses were
Pandeemoniums ; the priests, fiends and sorcerers. Nothing was too absurd
to obtain credence, provided it told against the papists. The Jews, during
the dynasty of the Plantagenets, never inspired one half the horror that
the Catholics excited throughout the brief reign of James II. Defoe,
though tolerant and enlightened in other respects, partook largely of this
influenza, and, much as he disapproved their conduct, yet joined zealously
with the high-church party in their endeavours to dethrone the infa-
tuated Stuart. Pamphlet after pamphlet appeared in rapid succession
from his pen on this great question, for which he was courted by the
more influential ecclesiastics, who, alarmed for the safety of their plura-
lities, lowered their usual tone of hostility, and whispered the word of
promise in the credulous ears of the dissenters. But Defoe was not
duped by this specious conduct. He knew that the church would
never condescend to tolerate those of his persuasion, and that the
alliance now struck up between them was merely a temporary one,
to be dissolved when the danger that threatened both equally, was
removed. Still, as he revereneed the constitution more than he
disrelished the high-church party, he openly espoused their cause,
and with the aid of the seven famous bishops, succeeded in eject-
ing the monarch. Mr. Wilson dismisses briefly the share Defoe
bore in this great work ; it is on record, however, that his writings
contributed in no trivial degree to accelerate its progress, and that
he was in consequence looked on for a time as one of the lions of
the age.

We have mentioned the seven bishops as material agents in the
Revolution that placed the Prince of Orange on the throne of England.
It may therefore be supposed that we have alluded to them in the light
of patriots. Lest any of our readers should be led away by such sup-
position, we think it but right to state that the opposition of the bishops
to James had its origin in the basest of all passions — the love of gain.
So long as the king presumed not to interfere with their pluralities, they
allowed him to tax the country at pleasure, to govern without Parlia-

1831.] Defoe : his Life and Writings. 21

ments, to keep up a standing army. They even preached the doctrine
of his divine authority from the pulpit, and held, among their leading
tenets, that it was impiety to dispute his will. This was their rule of
conduct so long as James respected their revenues. The instant, how-
ever, that he displayed an inclination to curtail them, their lordships' self-
interest took the alarm, and luckily chiming in with that of the
nation, the one cheered the other along that broad high-road
which is by courtesy called the course of patriotism — but which, in
nine out of ten cases, is nothing more nor less than the course of per-
sonal aggrandizement — till James had been expelled his throne, and both
parties, the churchmen and the nation, had reached the goal at which they
aimed, and secured the crown to the Prince of Orange, on the avowed
principle of toleration. And here, on dismissing James, we cannot
refrain from instituting a parallel between that monarch and the ex-king
Charles the Tenth. Both were bigots, and of the gloomiest cast ; both
were influenced by bad and interested advisers, and both fell victims
to their superstition. The Jesuits were the ruin of James, on the same
principle and in the same spirit that they were the ruin of Charles ;
though the latter is a thousand degrees less defensible than the former,
inasmuch as he was far behind his age in intellect, while James was
neither better nor worse than the other public characters of his day.
To complete the parallel, both kings had in early life suffered much from
the pressure of adverse circumstances, and both had failed to derive
wisdom or experience from such adversity.

It may be imagined that throughout the eventful period which imme-
diately preceded and followed the dethronement of James and the
accession of William, Defoe's pen was not idle. He was indeed
continually at work in the good cause, and became in consequence so
popular with the nation, and even with the court, that he was personally
consulted by King William on some public questions of emergency, and
rewarded by that monarch — a proof that his advice was of value — with
the place of accountant to the commissioners of the glass duty, which,
however, he was compelled to relinquish in 1699, about four years
subsequent to his appointment.

" It was, probably/' says Mr. Wilson, " about this time that Defoe
became secretary to the tile-kiln and brick-kiln works, at Tilbury, in
Essex, an office which he is reported to have filled for some years. It
failed, however, like many of his other projects, but was continued by
him, on a restricted scale, after he had lost upwards of three thousand
pounds by the speculation, till the year 1703, when the wind of his
court-popularity shifting, the current made strong head against him,
and he was prosecuted by the government for a libel/' Previous to this, we
should premise, Defoe had speculated largely, and with various, but in
the main indifferent, success in business. He had embarked with other
partners in the Spanish and Portuguese trade, which necessarily led
him into those countries, though at what particular period he visited
them, cannot now be ascertained. He also had some concern in the
trade with Holland, and was in consequence held up to ridicule by his
enemies, as a civet-cat merchant, " though it was, probably/' says his
biographer, " the drug rather than the animal in which he traded."
Besides his visits to Holland, Spain, and Portugal, Defoe made an
excursion to France, and appears to have been much struck with the
extent, number, and magnificence of the public buildings in Paris.

22 I)c foe : his Life and ll''ntings. £JAN.

He even penetrated (a rare occurrence with English authors in those
days !) into Germany ; but notwithstanding the vast range and variety of
scenery that thus came under his observation, he has left it on record
that nothing on the continent was equal, in his opinion, to the various
and luxuriant views by the river-side, from London to Richmond.
" Even the country for twenty miles round Paris," says he, " cannot
compare with it, though that indeed is a kind of prodigy."

It is not to be supposed that a man thus desultory and miscellaneous in
his speculations — at one time a hose-factor — at another a foreign merchant
• — at a third a brick-maker, and throughout his life a confirmed incurable
author — an author too, be it remembered, of all work — a satirist — a
pamphleteer — an essayist — a critic — a novelist — a polemic — a political
economist — and (almost) a poet, at any rate an inditer of much and
various verse ; — it is not, we repeat, to be supposed, that so universal a
genius would be over-successful in trade; and accordingly we find Defoe,
somewhere about the year 1692 — for the exact period is uncertain — -
meeting with the fate of most universal geniuses, and figuring in the
Gazette as a bankrupt. It is but fair, however, to add, that no sooner
was the commission taken out, at the instigation of an angry creditor,
than it was superseded, on the petition of those to whom he was most
indebted, and who accepted a composition on his single bond. " This
he punctually paid by the efforts of unwearied diligence, but some of
his creditors — it is Mr. Wilson who is here speaking — who had been
thus satisfied, falling afterwards into distress themselves, Defoe volun-
tarily paid them their whole claims, being then in rising circumstances,
from King William's favour." The annals of literature, though they
abound in traits of eccentric, shewy, and comprehensive generosity, yet
seldom present us with an instance of such just principle and natural
(not high-flown) liberality as this. The munificence of genius oftener
affords matter for astonishment than admiration ; it is therefore with no
little satisfaction that we have recorded this very noble and unostenta-
tious trait of character on the part of an author, who had quite talent
enough to entitle him (had he felt so inclined) to take out a patent
for eccentricity, and thereby dispense with the necessity of being an
honest man. But Defoe's heart and head (especially the former) were
always on the right side.

It is not known to what part of the kingdom Defoe retired when
circumstances compelled him to render himself invisible for a time to
his creditors. It is conjectured, that he fled to Bristol, where he
used often to be seen walking about the streets, accoutred in the
fashion of the times, with a full-flowing wig, lace ruffles, and a sword
by his side. As his appearance in public, however, was restricted to
the sabbath — bailiffs having no more power on that day than fiends of
darkness at the hallowed season of Christmas — he soon became generally
known by the name of the " Sunday Gent," and the inn, now an
obscure pot-house, is still in existence, where he used occasionally to
resort for the purposes of enjoying the pleasures of society, to which
(though temperate and abstemious in his habits) he was fondly ad-
dicted.

It was at this period — or perhaps a little later, for we have no certain
data to direct us — that Defoe rendered himself conspicuous by some
remarks which he published on the subject of Dr. Sherlock's apostacy.
As this divine's conduct excited considerable odium at the time, and has

18,'U.] Defoe: his Life ami W tilings. ^3

found an imitator at thepresent day in the person of thelateDean of Chester;
we may perhaps be excused if we enter into a few of the particulars of
the case. Dr. Sherlock, who was Master of the Temple, had distinguished
himself from the first moment of his entering into holy orders, by his
uncompromising zeal in favour of passive obedience, and the divine right
of kings. Throughout the reign of James II. the Dr. was one of his
staunchest supporters. His submission to the ruling powers knew no
bounds, and his preferments bid fair to become equally unlimited, when,
unfortunately, in the very meridian of his prosperity, a few incon-
venient blunders, made on the part of James, brought in William^
and the astonished, and not a little disgusted, Master of the Temple,
suddenly found himself holding pluralities under a monarch whom;
according to his principles of legitimacy, and so forth, he could not
regard otherwise than as a usurper. Under these circumstances, and
as he had always been a clamorous polemic, he could not do less than
refuse the oaths of supremacy to William, nor could William, in return,
do less than deprive him of his preferments. But such martyrdom never
entered into the Dr/s speculations. His zeal was of that peculiarly poetic
character, which, being too high-toned for the common-place vulgarities
of the world, shines to greater advantage in theory than practice. He
began also to reflect that it was exceedingly unbecoming the wisdom
and dignity of a sound divine to hesitate at swallowing a few fresh
oaths, or recanting a few unfashionable opinions ; and accordingly,
with a facility of digestion perfectly miraculous, the Doctor not only
dispatched all the oaths necessary to ensure him the new monarch's
favour, but recanted also every single word he had uttered from
the pulpit and elsewhere on the subject of " the right divine of
kings to govern wrong/' Not content with this wholesale recanta-
tion, he even went further, and had actually the hardihood to defend
his conduct in a pamphlet entitled " The Case of the Allegiance due
to Sovereign Powers, stated and resolved according to Scripture and
Reason, and the Principles of the Church of England ; with a more
particular Respect to the Oath lately enjoined, of Allegiance to their
present Majesties, King William and Queen Mary." As this pamphlet
was in direct and impudent opposition to one which the Dr. had
published some few years before, when James, not William, was on the
throne, under the title of " The Case of Resistance due to Sovereign
Powers, stated and resolved according to Scripture and to Reason/' it
brought down upon him a whole host of enemies, and among them
Defoe, who exposed the apostate's conduct in so stinging a manner that,
notwithstanding Sherlock's honours and preferments, he never wholly
recovered his mortification.

In the present day Dr. Philpotts bids fair to become no unworthy
successor of Dr. Sherlock, with this exception indeed, that the former's
apostacy is incomparably the most flagrant of the two. And yet,
for his interested conversion, the traitor has been made a bishop ! The
appointment is an ominous one, and to those who read with learned eye
the signs of the times, teems with hazard to the established church, of
the majority of whose ministers, Louis XIV. formed no incorrect estimate
when he observed, in reply to King James, who entreated him to furnish
means for an invasion : " As for your English clergy, 1 look upon them
much worse than the commonalty, having, not only by teaching and
preaching, taught the people to forswear themselves, but shewn ill

24 Defoe : his Life and Writings. [ JAN.

examples in themselves by doing the same. They have sworn allegiance
to you, and have since accepted of the Prince of Orange, and sworn
allegiance to him. But let them swear what they will, and to whom
they will, I for one will not believe them, nor put more value on their
oaths than they do themselves, which is just nothing at all." The
famous Bishop Burnet has borne similar testimony to the character of
the churchmen of his own times.

We return to Defoe. For some years after the accession of King
William he kept himself constantly before the public, and among other
able pamphlets, which, however, produced him more or less ill-will at
the time, published one entitled " An Essay on Projects," in which he
satirized the love of over-trading, which distinguished the majority of
the London merchants. For this production, in which he discoursed
many home truths, gave much sound advice, and endeavoured to create
a reformation in the commercial spirit of the age, he incurred the
odium of the vast body of English traders, who, joined with his poli-
tical ones, were the means of wreaking on him a world of mischief. About
the same time writh his notorious "Essay on Projects," appeared his
t( Account of the Massacre of Glencoe," in which he proved to the satis-
faction of all unprejudiced readers, but greatly to the annoyance of
the Jacobites, that William III. was wholly guiltless of any participation
in the atrocities in question.

The year 1701 is a memorable one in the life of Defoe. At this
period it was that he produced his ft Account of the Stock-Jobbing
Elections in Parliament," and put forth certain notions on the subject of
a reform in the House of Commons, which gained him ill-will exactly in
proportion to their value and good sense. The members were indignant
that a mere plebeian pamphleteer should presume to turn reformer.
Had he possessed birth, influence, or connections, to give weight to his
opinions, the case would have been different ; but truth from a plebeian,
and against themselves, too, was more than the House of Commons could
put up with, though as yet they had no means of venting their spleen on
the ill-starred subject of their indignation. Alluding to the corruption
of parliament, Defoe observes, that in his time there was a regular set
of stock-jobbers in the city, who made it their business to buy and sell
seats, and that the market price was a thousand guineas. This traffic he
stigmatizes as fatal to our religion and liberties, and says, t( by this
concise method parliaments are in a fair way of coming under the
hopeful management of a few individuals." He adds, " that a hundred,
or a hundred and fifty such members in a House would carry any vote ;
and, if it be true, as is very rational to suppose, those who buy will
sell, then the influence of such a number of members will be capable of
selling our trade, our religion, our peace, our effects, our king, and
every thing that is valuable or dear to the nation." How prophetic
these remarks are, recent events have signally shewn, and have yet to
shew to a still more signal extent.

It was in the same year (1701) that Defoe made his first appearance
in public as a poet, or rather, as a satirist, for, in his case, the two
characters are materially different. The subject of his poem was " The
True-born Englishman ;" and its intention was to reproach his country-
men for abusing King William as a foreigner, and to humble their pride
for despising some of the newly-created nobility upon the same account.
Its success was prodigious, and brought down upon the author's head a

1&31.J Defoe : kin Life and Writings. 25

shower of praise and vituperation. No less than eighty thousand cheap
copies were disposed of in the streets of London alone — a success before
which even the "Waverley novels" must hide their diminished heads — and
of editions, twenty-one were sold off within four years from the date of
publication ! It cannot,, however, be denied, that this flattering
reception was in many respects undeserved. As a satire the " True-
born Englishman" possesses much vigour of thought and expres-
sion, but is wholly deficient in ease, grace, and poetical feeling. The
language throughout is homely, the fancy bare and meagre to a
degree. It must be confessed, nevertheless, that Defoe is a hard hitter,
he makes every blow tell, hits out manfully and straight-forward, and
never once misses his man. King William, and, of course, his courtiers,
were much pleased with the spirit and tendency of this poem, and vied
with each other in their testimonies of good- will to the author, to whose
satirical abilities may be applied, with peculiar propriety, Pope's phrase,
" downright," in that well-known and often-quoted line, "As downright
Shippen or as old Montaigne."

The same year that gave birth to the " True-born Englishman,"
rendered Defoe equally conspicuous in a different sphere of action.
Reverting to his favourite political topic, the corruption of the House of
Commons, he presented an address on the subject to the speaker,
signed " Legion," in the disguise of an old woman. In this document
he insisted so strenuously, and with so much justice, on the necessity of
reform, that the members took the alarm, and would at once have prose-
cuted the writer, had not the current of public feeling run strongly in
favour. As it was, they contented themselves with abuse and vulgar
recrimination.

We now come to the most eventful incident in Defoe's life. On the
death of King William, Anne ascended the throne, at a period when the
nation was convulsed with party-spirit, when the faction of whigs and
tories raged with more violence than ever, and when high-church
principles were carried to an extent wholly inconceivable in the pre-
sent clay. Defoe, as the advocate of the dissenters, against whom
the established church projected, and actually attempted to carry into
execution, a war of extermination, of course resented with all the energy
of which he was capable, this inquisitorial persecution, and, adopting the
language of irony, exposed the bigotry of the high-churchmen in a
pamphlet entitled the " Shortest Way with the Dissenters/' For this
work he was eagerly pounced on by the House of Commons, brought to
trial at the Old Bailey, convicted chiefly by the manoeuvring of the attorney-
general (who seems to have been the prototype of that recreant whig,
Sir James Scarlett), and condemned, to the eternal disgrace of justice, to
stand in the pillory.

This sentence reflected shame only on those who inflicted it. To
Defoe it was a triumph and season of rejoicing, " for he was
guarded," says his biographer, " to the pillory by the populace, as
if he were about to be enthroned in a chair of state, and descended from
it amidst the triumphant acclamations of the surrounding multitude, who,
instead of pelting him, according to the orthodox fashion in such cases,
protected him from the missiles of his enemies, drank his health,
adorned the pillory with garlands, and when he descended from it,
supplied him with all manner of refreshments." But notwithstanding
this flattering testimonial to his public worth, his punishment, and the

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 61. E

26 Defoe : his Life and Writings. [JAN.

imprisonment and fine, which formed part of it, completely ruined
Defoe, who lost upwards of three thousand five hundred pounds — a con-
siderable sum in those days — and found himself at a mature age, with a
wife and six children, with no other resource for their support than the
chance product of his pen. In this desperate condition, the high tory
party, who reverenced his abilities while they dreaded his power, endea-
voured to enlist him in their service ; but in vain, their victim was proof
against temptation, and, wrapt up in the mantle of his integrity, bade
defiance to the storms that howled around him.

We must now pass over a fe w busy years, during which Defoe took
part with his pen in almost every great question that came before the
public, particularly in the Union with Scotland, of which he was a
staunch and influential promoter, and which procured him the patronage
of Harley and Godolphin, and come to a curious feature in his literary
life, which Sir Walter Scott has lately brought, in an amusing manner,
before the world. It seems that when Drelincourt's book, entitled
" Consolations against the Fear of Death/' first appeared in the English
language, the publisher was disappointed in the sale, and it being a
heavy work, he is said to have complained to Defoe of the injury he
was likely to sustain by it. Our veteran author asked him if he had
blended any marvels with his piety. The bibliopolist replied in the
negative. " Indeed !" said Defoe ; " then attend to me, and I will put you
in a way to dispose of the work, were it as heavy to move as Olympus."
He then sate down, and composed a tract with the following title:
" A True Relation of the Apparition of one Mrs. Veal the Next Day
after her Death to one Mrs. Bargrave, at Canterbury, the 8th of Sep-
tember, 1705, which Apparition Recommends the Perusal of Drelin-
court's Book of Consolations against the Fear of Death/' This tract
was immediately appended to the work in question — the public being
then, as now, always agape for marvels — and has been appended to
every subsequent edition, of which upwards of forty have now passed
through the English press. Sir Walter Scott, who has recorded this
anecdote, and from whom Mr. Wilson has gleaned it, observes that it is
one of the most ingenious specimens of book-making which have ever
come within his knowledge. It bespeaks, indeed, ineffable self-pos-
session and ingenuity on the part of its author, for " who but a man
gifted with the most consummate readiness, would have thought of
summoning a ghost from the grave, to bear witness in favour of a halting
body of divinity ?" Who indeed !

The trial of the famous Dr. Sacheverell, was another occasion on
which Defoe particularly distinguished himself. This fanatic, who had
rendered himself notorious by boldly preaching from the pulpit the
doctrines of non-resistance, and whose cause was upheld by all the
high tories and churchmen in the kingdom ; who was moreover in
extreme favour with a vast rabble, hired, of course, to shout him into
notice, and make a lion of one whom nature intended solely for a fool,
was attacked by Defoe in a manner more remarkable for its zeal than
its discretion, inasmuch as it -rendered him for the time the most
unpopular man in the kingdom. Wherever he went, whether about
the metropolis or in the provinces, his life was in imminent danger ;
his attempts to reform the persecuting spirit of the age were met with
contumely and ridicule ; his character was impugned, his abilities were
decried, his very virtues ministered against him. For every shout of

1831.] Defoe : his Life and Writings. 27

" Long live Sacheverell !" a counter one was raised, of " Down with
Defoe I" Even assassination was attempted to be put in force against
him ;— so difficult, so replete with hazard is the high task to make men
wiser or better than they are. Defoe was full a century in advance of
his age, and he paid the penalty of such maturity in the bitter, unsparing
abuse of his contemporaries. All parties combined to assail him. The
whigs detested him, the Jacobites avoided him, the high tories feared
him, and even the dissenters, in whose cause he had perilled his all,
for whom he had gone through the ordeal of fine — pillory — imprison-
ment— even these for a season stood aloof from him. He was like
Cain, branded on his forehead with a mark, that all men might avoid
him. Time, however, did him justice: the malice of his enemies
slowly abated ; and as the quicksands of party were perpetually shifting,
Defoe gained more or less by such change. Still the persecutions he had
experienced made visible inroads on his health. In the autumn of life
he found himself without a green leaf on his boughs, his spirit blighted,
sapless, and ready at the first keen breeze that might blow rudely on
it, to fall a ruin to earth. Under these circumstances, in the year 1715,
shortly after the accession of George the First to the throne, he pub-
lished a pamphlet in defence of his whole political career, which he
entitled " An Appeal to Honour and Justice/' Scarcely was this
concluded, when its gifted author was struck with apoplexy, from
which his recovery was for a long time doubtful.

On his restoration to health, Defoe embarked in a new career, and
amused himself with the composition of those works of fiction, some of
which will render his name immortal. In 1719 appeared " Robinson
Crusoe," founded on the true adventures of Alexander Selkirk, who
but a few years before had in no ordinary degree excited public atten-
tion ; in 1721, the " History of Moll Flanders ;" in 1722, the " Life of
Colonel Jack," and the " History of the Great Plague in London ;"
in 1723, " Memoirs of a Cavalier," and " Religious Courtship ;" in 1724,
" Roxana, or the Fortunate Mistress," and " A Tour through the whole
Island of Great Britain;" and in 1726, the " Political History of the
Devil," together with a vast variety of other miscellanies, both in prose
and verse, of which little now is known except to the hunters after
literary rarities. But age and infirmities were rapidly advancing
upon Defoe, and putting a stop to the further exercise of his invention.
Shortly after the marriage of one of his daughters, in 1729, he was
arrested for some trivial debt, and confined in prison till the year 1730,
which period was passed in sickness and acute mental anguish. As if
to fill up the measure of his suffering, his very children rebelled against
him, and on some mean pretext his son found means to deprive his aged
and heart-broken father of what little remained to him of the world's
wealth. This was too much for Defoe's fortitude. The principle of
life within him, already severely tried, now quite gave way : he
seldom spoke, was often seen in tears, or on his knees in prayer ; and
after some months of intense mental suffering, resigned himself without
a struggle to his fate, on the 24th of April, 1731, at the mature age of
seventy.

Having thus sketched the main incidents in the political life of Defoe,
it remains to say a few words of him in that character by which he is
best known to posterity, namely, as an author. Of his fugitive tracts,
" thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks of Vallombrosa," on

E 2

23 Defoe : his Life and Writings. £J.VN.

the passing topics of the day, as the changed character of the age has
consigned them to eternal oblivion, we shall merely observe, that
though uninteresting to the mere reader for amusement, they teem with
instruction for the historian, the commentator, and the divine. Viewed
as literary compositions, they abound in spirit, irony, and occasionally
caustic sarcasm. Their style is everywhere homely, not vulgar, clear,
explicit, and free from rant or verbiage. In this respect they
resemble the political writings of Swift, though they fall immea-
surably short of them in terseness, energy, and fertility of illustration.
In the " Dean of St. Patrick's" tracts there is ever an appearance of
care and attention ; every point, however simply detailed, seems to be
made the most of, every fact to be diligently elaborated and insisted
on. With Defoe the very contrary is the case. He throws off his
opinions on the great leading events of his day, with a carelessness and
profusion which superior literary wealth but too commonly engenders ;
and if he at times displays the highest and most varied excellences, such
ebullitions are the results rather of accident than design. As a political
writer Defoe has left behind him no one master-piece, by which he can
be at once brought before the reader's memory. His talents are scat-
tered over scores of volumes; felicitous passages, whether for thought,
sentiment, humour, or fiction, must be sought in a variety of tracts,
whose aggregate number might appal the most courageous students.
He has written no one work like Swift's ft Public Spirit of the Whigs,"
Burke's " Reflections on the French Revolution," or Johnson's " Letter
on the Falkland Islands," — wherein that stately writer carries the power
and dignity of the English language to its very loftiest elevation, — by
which a reader of the present day may at once form an estimate of his
abilities. Hence his political celebrity is a dead-letter to all but histo-
rians and antiquaries.

But if Defoe be comparatively unknown as a politician, as a novelist
and writer of fiction he has the rare merit of having witched all Europe.
His inimitable " Robinson Crusoe" has been translated into every con-
tinental language, and has even kindled the enthusiasm of the Arabs,
as they listened outside their tents to its incidents, rendered into the
vernacular by the skill of the traveller Burkhardt. By more discri-
minating and fastidious judges it has been equally well received. It
warmed the unsocial heart of Rousseau, and taught him to feel that there
were other things in nature worthy consideration besides himself;
relaxed the cynical frown of Johnson ; delighted Blair and Beattie ; ai?d
in our own days has received the unqualified commendation of such
men as Scott, Lamb, and Hazlitt. Public opinion, split into a thou-
sand nice distinctions on other literary topics, has been unanimous on
the subject of " Robinson Crusoe." It has received the suffrages and
interested the feelings of all ages and grades in society, of the school-
boy and the man, of the peer and the peasant. The reason of this is obvious.
Crusoe is nature herself speaking in her own language on her own most
favourite and intelligible topics. Art is no where present, she is dis-
carded for matters of higher and more general interest. While the poet
and the scholar appeal to the select few, Defoe throws himself abroad
on the sympathies of the world. His subject, he feels, will bear him
out ; the strongest instincts of humanity will plead trumpet-tongued in
his favour. Despite the extraordinary moral and intellectual changes
that a new fashion of society, a new mode of writing and thinking, have

1831.] Defoe : his Life and Writings. 20

wrought in England, •" Robinson Crusoe" still retains (though partially
dimmed) his reputation, and the reader who can unmoved peruse his
adventures, may assure himself that the fault of such indifference lies
with him ; Defoe is wholly guiltless.

For ourselves, the bare recollection of this tale brings before our
minds sympathies long since resigned, and which otherwise might
be altogether forgotten. We remember, as though it were an event of
yesterday, our first perusal of " Robinson Crusoe." We remember the
sloping green in front of the grey abbey wall, where we sate thrilled with
wonder and a vague sense of horror, at the print of the unknown
savage's feet on the deserted island, which the solitary mariner disco-
vered in one of his early wanderings. We remember the strong social
sympathies that sprung up within us — the birth, as it were, of a new
and better existence — as we read how from being utterly desolate,
Robinson Crusoe gradually found himself the companion of one or
two associates, rude indeed, and uncultivated, but men like himself,
and therefore the fittest mates of his solitude. We remember (and
how few tales beloved in boyhood can bear the severe scrutiny of the
man !) the generous warmth with which we entered into the feelings of
the sailor, as he saw his little colony — including the goats, who were
grown so tame that they would approach at his call and suffer him to
penn them at night in their fold — gradually augmenting round him, and
at last (what an exquisite trait of nature !) following the course of nature,
and springing up into a limited monarchy, of which he was the head.
We remember too — for no gratification is without its alloy, so true is the
exclamation of the poet — •

" Inter saluberrina culta
Infelix lolium et steriles dominantur avenae" —

we remember the acute regret we experienced when feuds and ambitious
feelings began to spring up within the bosom of that colony, where
Astraea, driven from all other parts of earth, should have taken up her
abode, and Peace sate throned as on a sepulchre. Will it be believed
that this tale, so perfect in its descriptions — so affecting in its sim-
plicity— so entirely arid incorruptibly natural — was refused by almost
every bookseller in the metropolis ? Yet strange as it may seem, this
was actually the fact. e( Robinson Crusoe" was hawked about through
the trade as a work of neither mark nor livelihood, and at last accepted,
as a proof of especial condescension, by an obscure retail bookseller.
It is singular, but not less true — and we leave our readers to draw their
own inference from the fact — that almost every book of any pretensions
to originality has been similarly neglected. " Paradise Lost" with diffi-
culty found a publisher, while the whole trade vied with each other in
their eagerness to procure the works of such dull mechanical writers as
Blackmore and Glover ; " Gulliver's Travels" lay ten years in MS. for
want of due encouragement from the booksellers ; and in our own times,
and in a lighter branch of literature, the (e Miseries of Human Life/*
and the still more ingenious " Rejected Addresses," were refused by the
trade with indifference, if not contempt. To crown the list of wrorks
thus misunderstood, Sir W. Scott has left it on record that " Waverley"
was actually declined three several times by the acutest publisher of his
day ; and at last ushered into the world, after it had lain twelve years

30 Defoe : his Life and Writings. [[JAN.

unnoticed in its author's desk, with doubt, hesitation, and indifference.
Crciiilc postcri !

It was objected to " Robinson Crusoe/' on its publication, when to doubt
its other merits was impossible, that it had no claims to originality ; that,
in fact, it was a mere transcript of the " Adventures of Alexander
Selkirk.'* Of all objections to books of value, none are more common,
none more vulgar than this. True originality lies not in the mechanical
invention of incident and circumstance — else who more original than
a high-flown startling melodramatist ? — but in creating new matter for
thought and feeling ; in exploring the untried depths of the heart ; in
multiplying the sources of sympathy. Whoever excites a new emotion ;
whoever strikes a chord in the world's heart never struck before ; he is
the only inventor, the only sterling original. It is in this sense that we
style Shakspeare — for all his plots, and the ground- work of the majority
of his characters, are borrowed — a creator ; in this sense also we give
Wordsworth, and Scott, and Hazlitt, among the moderns, credit for the
same high attribute. To invent is to look into oneself, to draw from
one's own heart materials for the world's sympathy. This Defoe has
done throughout his " Robinson Crusoe." The " Adventures of Alex-
ander Selkirk" are the mere pegs on which he has hung his painting ;
the grouping on the canvass itself — the light and shade of character and
description — the development of incident — the fine tone of feeling and
simplicity that pervades and mellows the entire composition — these are
all essentially his own.

Of Defoe's minor works, such, for instance, as his " Singleton,"
" Moll Flanders," " Colonel Jack," &c., we shall say little, as we
have but an imperfect recollection of them, but we cannot prae-
termit his " History of the Plague in London," to which Professor
Wilson has been so largely indebted in his splendid, but somewhat
verbose dramatic poem of " The City of the Plague." Defoe's
narrative of this awful visitation is, from first to last, as impressive a
piece of writing as any in the annals of literature. It is superior
to the record, by Thucydides, of the same pestilence at Athens ; because,
though less a model of composition, less terse, less polished, less equable
in its classical spirit, it has incomparably more nature, more feeling, a
more rigid air of reality. Whoever has read this striking fiction (for
fiction it really is) will allow that it is one never to be forgotten. The
very opening, where Defoe tells us with an air of the most perfect
unconcern, as if unconscious of what is to follow, that " towards the
close of the summer of 1665, a report was spread throughout the parish
that three men had died of some strange disorder in Long- Acre," excites
curiosity, and rivets attention. But when he proceeds through the
different phases of his narrative — when he glances at the grass growing
in the streets — at the strange prodigies that harbingered the visitation — •
at the death of the first man who was indubitably proved to have fallen
a victim to the plague — at the sound of the dead-cart at night, and the
houses marked by the fatal cross — and, above all, when he sketches one
or two individual portraits, such as those of the mother and daughter
who were found dead in each others' arms, we feel the mastery of his
genius, and acknowledge, with mingled awe and wonder, that we are
indeed under the spell of the necromancer.

We have little to add. " The History of the Plague," and the " Ad-

1831.] Defoe: his Life and Writings. 31

ventures of Robinson Crusoe/' are the works to which Defoe is
indebted for his immortality. As a political writer he has perished
from among us; as a novelist his spirit yet walks the earth. His
present biographer has done him justice in both characters; and
has, besides, thrown so much light on the age in which Defoe
flourished, so fully illustrated its nature, its manners, and more par-
ticularly its moral and religious cast of thought, that we know not
which most to admire, his power of amusement or instruction. In every
sense of the word, even with Clarendon and Gibbon in our recollection,
we may style Mr. Wilson a historian. His " Life and Times of Defoe"
— of that extraordinary man who exceeds Cobbett in the number and
variety of his political tracts ; who beats Thucydides on his own Vantage
ground ; almost equals Sir W. Scott as a novelist ; and who, in the
aggregate amount of his works, surpasses any author that ever lived,
having written upwards of two hundred volumes ! . — Mr. Wilson's
Memoirs of that extraordinary man are volumes that no student, nay,
no gentleman, should be without. A library that does not possess
them is incomplete.

FROM Tangiers we proceeded overland to Tetuan; the distance is
about thirty English miles, through a most luxuriant and romantic
country. Hitherto the Moors of this place have been considered so
untractable, that, notwithstanding the great allurements of situation,,
Europeans could not continue their residence in this part of the country.
In the year 1770 the Consuls withdrew from Tetuan, and fixed them-
selves at Tangiers. Within the last few years the English have again
succeeded in opening an intercourse with this city, by establishing a
Mr. Price as vice-consul in this town — a gentleman in whose hands
English interests are sure to be promoted. t

The bashaw of Tetuan is only visible to those who are disposed to pay
for the indulgence, and will at any time gratify the curiosity of strangers

* In continuation of the article on Tangiers, at page 543 of our last volume.

•f- It would be scarcely fair to pass over this gentleman's name with so slight a notice.
The manner in which he conducted himself in his consulship is worthy of imitation.
Although the only European consul in Tetuan, his attentions and services were available
to all nations. Many were the odious disabilities against Europeans he contrived by his
firmness to abolish. It was he who first insisted that Englishmen should not submit to
the degradation of dismounting at the city-gates, and leading their horses through the
town, as had hitherto been the practice. I could mention numerous instances, in which
his humanity and good-heartedness have been equally conspicuous ; but can pay him no
better tribute than to record the conduct of Sidi Hash Hash, the bashaw, on his depar-
ture. So averse was this man to the sight of an English consul, that his intrigues pre-
vented Mr. Price from commencing the duties of his office for upwards of ten months.
In one of the bashaw's communications to the sultan on this subject, he reminds him
" that his forefather, Sidi Mohammed el Grande, had vowed by his beard (a most sacred
vow amongst the Moors) never to allow a Christian to set foot in Tetuan;"— yet, on the
departure of Mr. Price, three years afterwards, he addressed him in terms of the greatest
amity, and told him that, by his conduct, he had laid the foundation of a future good
understanding between the Moors and the Christians, whom, previous to his acquaintance,
he had ever held in dread, and that it was now his only wish to be better acquainted with
Englishmen. The English flag, for the first time since the year 1770, now floats on
the Consular-house of Tetuan — a sight which the population of that place thronged to
see during several days.

32 A Glance at Tetuan. [JAN.

for a few loaves of sugar, or a few pounds of tea or coffee. In this
respect he may be compared to. some strange beast kept for exhibition;
nor is his appearance likely to dispel the idea, being dreadfully afflicted
with the elephantiasis in both legs, so that he is confined to the range of
his own garden.

It was, however, a pleasing disappointment to find, by his conversa-
tion, that he possessed a little more sentiment than his appearance would
establish credit for. In being conducted round his garden and orchard
of pomegranates, 1 observed, amidst a great deal of order and regularity,
a moss-covered fountain, which had ceased to play; the patch of ground
which environed it was uncultivated ; the shrubs and flowers grew in
wild contrast to the care observed in every other part. On noticing this
partial neglect, he explained — " that the fountain had belonged to a
favourite wife, who had been accustomed to drink of its waters, and to
cultivate with her own hands the plot of ground now in such disorder,
— but the fountain should never play again, and the garden might run
to waste, for she whom it pleased might take delight in it no more !"*

The melancholy humour of his excellency had that day been increased
by a request he had received from the emperor to forward a large sum of
money to Morocco, which he could find no pretext to withhold much
longer. In this exigency, he sent for the elders of the Jews (that never-
failing philosopher's- stone), and politely requested to know if they
would furnish him with a small loan. The great financier — the Roths-
child of Tetuan — now stood boldly forward, and, with a courage worthy
of his rich London relation, told the bashaw " that his brethren could
not be expected to pay the deficiencies of his accounts with the sultan,
especially after his excellency had so often and so ungraciously inflicted
stripes on their backs, for which they had paid so dearly, both in coin
and flesh, that they had now scarcely any of either to call their own."

Such extraordinary language was naturally ill-brooked, and, at any
other time, might have cost the offender a severe punishment ; but the
Jews, aware of the impending disgrace of the bashaw, determined on this
occasion to make a stand against his oppressions, and accelerate his fall
by refusing their assistance, which they calculated would get him imme-
diately removed from the bashalick. The governor was evidently
labouring under great uneasiness of mind, which the numerous changes
of his countenance betrayed ; nor could he help giving vent to his spleen
in sundry ejaculations, during a repast of coffee, biscuits, and conserve
of orange-flowers, which his kindness had provided for us.

The town of Tetuan is extensive, and contains about 30,000 inhabi-
tants. From situation, it is the most advantageous spot in the empire of
Morocco for extending our commerce with Barbary ; but that perpetual
obstacle in these kingdoms — the sand-bars at the mouths of the river —
does not allow any vessel to enter that of Tetuan of above eighty tons
burthen. Tetuan is in the vicinity of the beautiful mountains of Rif,

* Another observation which my friend, the bashaw, lately made, in conversing on the
fall of Algiers, will perhaps not be considered unamusing. . At first, hearing that this city
had surrendered, he declared it was nothing but " mala fama — evil report ; that the
Moors were much superior to the French in point of valour." On the subsequent confirma-
tion of the news, and the dethronement of Charles the Tenth, he, however, exclaimed —
" Al^ Dios es grande ! whilst the French took Algiers, Mahomet was asleep; but, on
awaking, he became angry at what had been done, and in revenge drove the king of
France from his kingdom."

iaSl.] A Glance at Tetuan. 33

whose miserable half-clad inhabitants are the terror of the town. The
guards who accompanied us over the country refused to enter the
mountains, saying, " The Rifians had, on the previous evening, forded
the river at dusk, and had carried off' some Moorish women from a douar,
and would most likely think we were come in search of them."

The view southward of Tetuan reaches along a ridge of the lower
Atlas mountains. At sight of this mighty chain, the heart throbs to trace
the links whose delightful dyes vie with the bright hues of heaven. The
broad expanse over which the eye runs is intersected with vineyard-
valleys embosomed between the hills ; — in the distance, the mountains
shoot their blue heads into the skies, and close the extent of horizon.

To the lover of field sports, this part of Barbary is a most delightful
country ; for it is impossible to stir a step without starting game of some
species. The Moors have no idea of shooting birds flying, and generally
take partridges by hunting them down till they are exhausted. There is
no obstacle to sporting here all the year round, save the respect naturally
paid by sportsmen to the breeding season ; but the great quantity of eggs
eaten and exported annually, shew that the Moors have no consideration of
this sort. The wild boar, which Mussulmans are not allowed to eat, are
here most numerous.

Higher up the coast, towards Oran, the wild antelope and gazelle
become plentiful ; the latter are not easily domesticated ; they never live
long when taken from their native woodlands; the beautiful eye and
symmetrical form, the jet-black tongue and spicy smell of this delicate
little animal, has induced many to endeavour to transplant it, but with-
out effect. Except in a state of nature, it is not choice of its food, and
generally dies of indiscriminate feeding.

During our stay here, the whole coast was a scene of extraordinary
activity. A Genoese vessel was waiting outside the bar at the mouth of
the river, to take a freight of pilgrims to Alexandria. Detained by
adverse winds, the Moors had encamped themselves on the sea-beach.
The general equipage which serves them throughout their long pilgri-
mage (which, with the visit to Medina and Jerusalem, lasts a year), is
seldom more than the carpets on which they sleep. Those who cannot
afford a marquee, sling one of these carpets across a pole, like a gipsy's
tent. A leathern scrip and a small bundle contains the remainder of their
necessaries.

They are generally under the command of a scherif, who regulates the
march of the party when they land. Their method of cooking meat is
such as to dispense with the use of many utensils. An oblong square
hole is dug in the ground, in which a wood fire is lighted ; a stick is then
cut of sufficient length to reach across the cavity, upon which the meat
is stuck as on a spit, one end of which is twirled by the hand until the
joint is well roasted.

The force of the Mahommedan religion is perhaps in no instance so
clearly seen, as in the number of votaries it leads to the shrine of the
prophet at Mecca. From the peasant to the prince, all are filled with the
same hope, the same wish of performing that pilgrimage which is to
smooth their path to the grave, to absolve them from their sins in this
world, and to be the means of their salvation in the next. The name of
hadjee is to them a title of nobility, or reverence, which all are anxious to
acquire, and to attain which they will employ the savings of whole years
of toil.

A great number of stragglers always join the troop of hadjees on their

M.M. New. Series.— Vol.. XL No. 61. F

34 A Glance at Tctuan. [JAN

route to the port of embarkation, and await the moment of the vessel's
departure to surround and forcibly cling to its sides or rigging,, imploring
their countrymen,, for the love of the holy prophet, not to hinder their
pious intention of doing penance for their sins at his tomb. Too late to
remonstrate — the vessel is perhaps already under weigh — the poor
wretches must either be plunged into the waves, or admitted.

The voyage being one of penitence, harsh feelings are seldom exercised
towards brethren in distress. Various are the grounds upon which they
claim the charity of their more fortunate companions. One declares he
is a scherif,* with royal blood in his veins, and no money in his pockets ;
— one, that he has committed crimes the guilt of which must fall on the
head of the person who repels him ; — another, that he has an aged father,
blind and leprous, whose only hope of cure is the accomplishment of the
vow of his son — all irresistible arguments, put forward at a moment they
cannot be discussed, but which generally saddles the captain of the vessel
with double the number of passengers he has agreed to take.

Those alone who have witnessed a scene of encampment of hadjees,
can form an idea of what a pilgrimage must be, or what is the confusion
and inconvenience of this prelude to their task — a sea-voyage. They
inevitably endure all the difficulties of long and painful marches, fastings
and toil beneath a burning sun, and which nothing but the hope inspired
by religion could enable them to support. The fatigue of the journey
through Arabia alone would cause Europeans to fall victims to a want of
comforts they despise.

A caravan sets out yearly from Morocco by land, across the desert of
Angad, passing by Oran, Algiers, and Tripoly, where they are joined by
all the Moors who proceed from each of these places. This, of course,
is a much more serious undertaking, and requires still greater strength
and fortitude to bear than those who proceed by sea to the mouth of the
Nile. The pilgrims are likewise often obliged to fight their way through
the deserts, as the Bedouin Arabs always reckon upon the robbery of a
caravan as they do on a harvest. All these troubles are braved for the
mere love of kissing a black stone, and drinking a pitcher of water at the
well of Hagar.

Royalty itself does not disdain to participate in the difficulties of these
pilgrimages. It is incumbent on every one who can afford the expense
to perform the journey to Mecca at least once in the course of his life ;
but many who have acccumulated sins of which they repent, perform it
several times ; its efficacy in such cases none attempt to deny ; and those
who cannot go in person, commission others to pray for them.

The return of the pilgrims is an event dreaded by all the European
consuls in Barbary, who cannot persuade the Moors of the propriety of
putting their vessels into quarantine. Neglect of this precaution has
frequently introduced the oriental plague into Barbary, which has often
depopulated the country, and, about fifteen years ago, carried off a great
number of the inhabitants of this part of the coast. Amongst any other
people but Mahommedans, the ravages of the plague might be easily
averted ; but the Moors think it a sin to avoid any such evil. " Allah
Aikbar ! — God's will be done !" is always their cry ; and this they repeat
whilst they steal the pestiferous clothes from the dead bodies. — S. B.

* The respect due to a schdrif is very great ; the anxiety to kiss the skirts of their gar-
ments is such, that the Moors will steal along behind them to press the bernoos to their
lips, or snatch a kiss of their hands.

1831.] [ 35 J

ST. CROIX ; A TALE OF THE DAYS OF TERROR.

I HATE heard it asserted that England is pre-eminently distinguished
amongst other countries for the individual eccentricity of many of its
inhabitants ; but whether this peculiarity is attributed to the influence of
climate,, government, or phrenological organization, I at this instant
utterly forget, nor is the fact of much importance, as whatever the theo-
retical cause, I deny the supposed result. Oddities, as these deformed
combinations of human intellect are commonly called, are to be met
with every where, and in France, not less than England, as I can attest
from personal experience.

Monsieur St. Croix was the very prince of the whole tribe : a strange
compound of the misanthrope and philanthropist, the miser and the fop,
fermented by a strong leaven of the irritability and waywardness of
insanity. And this man dwelt, three years ago, and probably still
dwells, in the most profound seclusion, though in a fashionable street,
in the gayest quarter of Paris, where thousands are thronging daily
past his abode of misery, unconscious of the existence of such a being,
and the fair and the dissipated are hurrying after pleasure to some
soiree, or reunion, which to their bounded vision appears the world.

St. Croix was a man of territory ; he was the proprietor of five hotels,
or moderately-sized houses, calculated for the accommodation of a
single family (such as Englishmen delight to inhabit), agreeably

situated between a court-yard and a garden in the Rue . But these

mansions added little to their possessor's wealth, for three of them, after
having been long uninhabited, were fast falling to ruin ; the fourth,
which looked as desolate and forsaken as the others, was occupied by
himself alone ; and of the fifth, by some strange chance, my family were
the last tenants. It was one of this eccentric man's peculiarities, that
the love of money, which would have made others eager to see their
houses inhabited, was the cause of his preferring that they should
crumble to decay. He detested tenants, he said, gentlemen particu-
larly, for they were continually demanding repairs and alterations, to
all of which, though the rain might pour in torrents through the roofs,
and the wind whistle in at every corner, he was invariably inexorable,
till one by one his tormentors were fairly driven from their quarters,
and he was left in undisturbed possession of his domain.

The gardens belonging to these deserted mansions, which were only
divided from each other by low walls, became from that time his great
source of amusement and occupation. I was told that, when he first
began his labours, they were as pretty as any thing of the kind can be—
luxuriant with the vines and laburnums, lilacs, acacias, and Judah trees,
which flourish in the very centre of Paris ; but when I knew them, his
industry had left neither tree, nor shrub, nor blade of grass, on the
whole territory. He boasted with delight that he had levelled every
tree with the ground, lest their damp exhalations should injure those
buildings which time and neglect were fast hurrying to annihilation.
A few stunted miserable cabbages were the only green things visible
over the irregular heaps of fresh-turned, or well-trodden earth, which
replaced the parterres and grass-plots of former days ; but these were
the especial objects of his care, and often have I been awakened at four
o'clock on a summer morning, by a broken voice singing La belle
Gabriclle at the height of its pitch, before I discovered that Monsieur

P 2

3(3 Monsieur St. Croix ; QJAN.

St. Croix was, even at that early hour, busily engaged in the culture
of the favourite vegetable, upon which he chiefly depended for nourish-
ment. When I first beheld my musical neighbour, he was running
backwards and forwardsjjetween the corners of the desolate garden, car-
rying earth in a wooden spoon to refresh the roots of his wretched cab-
bages ; and though the sun was burning with cloudless splendour in the
sky, he wore no hat upon his highly-dressed head, whose formal curls
and tightly-tied tail, bore record of the ancient time. These identified
the man ; for though no servant ever set foot within his doors, though
neither fire nor candle were ever known to illumine his dreary dwelling,
though he had never possessed a scrap of linen for years, save one shirt,
which he bought in the linen-market, and wore thenceforward, without
washing, till its very existence became an airy nothing, yet, strange con-
tradiction in human nature, he paid an annual stipend to a perruquier,
to come every morning and dress his hair ! A brown frock coat, whose
rags betokened its length of service, a dirty white neckcloth, most care-
full tied, grey worsted stckings drawn tightly over a beautifully formed
leg, with a pair of strong leather shoes, completed his costume. But
though thus attired, it was impossible to doubt for an instant that Mon-
sieur St. Croix was a gentleman. The stamp of nobility was upon his
lofty brow ; and though age, or perhaps sorrow, had silvered his hair,
it had neither bent his tall and finely-proportioned figure, nor wrinkled
the face which in youth must have been pre-eminently handsome.

We became intimate ; our daily conversations between my window
and his garden appeared not less agreeable to my neighbour than to
myself. One great reason for the kindness he invariably manifested
towards me, and the interest he took in my welfare was, I verily believe,
that in whatever society or place I met him, whether with a gay party
in the Louvre, where it was his daily habit to walk in the winter, for
the benefit of the fires which never gladdened his home, or in the
crowded malls of the Tuileries and Boulevards, I invariably acknow-
ledged the acquaintance of my venerable friend with a courteous salu-
tation.

After an acquaintance of several months, I was agreeably surprised
by a request from the old man to visit him : an honour never antici-
pated ; for not once in a year was a human being known to have been
admitted into his mysterious dwelling. I was shewn into a square oak-
floored room, with two windows looking towards the street, and two
towards the garden. The shutters of the former were closed, and the
cobwebs and dirt which had been accumulating for years upon the
latter, dimmed the bright light of the glorious sky without. There
were faded portraits of his ancestors, in flowing wigs and glittering
breast-plates, hanging round the walls, which the recluse pointed out
with manifest pride ; but there was one object which excited my curio-
sity more than all the rest. Above the fire-place, suspended by a broken
fork on one side, and a rusty nail on the other, hung a faded silk win-
dow-curtain, and though in spite of all my hints, Monsieur St. Croix
had forborne to raise it, I felt certain I could distinctly trace the outline
of a large picture-frame beneath. I had been struck by the agitated
expression of his countenance when I alluded to this curtained depart-
ment of the wall ; and an opportunity afforded by the absence of my
host was too tempting to be lost. I lifted a corner of the silken veil,
and had scarcely time to perceive beneath the portrait of a young and

1831.] a Tale of the Days of Terror. 37

lovely female, in the dress of a Carmelite nun, whose full dark eyes as
they met my gaze, beamed with more of tenderness than devotion, ere
the returning footsteps of Monsieur St. Croix were audible in the pas-
sage. I dropped the curtain, and saw it no more.

I often discerned St. Croix afterwards as I returned home late from
the Champs Elysees or the Boulevards, seated at an open upper window,
upon a dirty striped pillow, reading in the moonlight ; and our conver-
sations from his garden were continued without interruption till my
return to England. I know not wherefore, but the old man grew
attached to me as to a child, and to my great surprise, the day before
my departure, I saw him hastily crossing the court of our little hotel,
and in another moment he entered, unannounced, into the salon where
I sat. He held a scroll of papers in his hand, but, as usual, he was
without a hat.

" My young friend," he said, and he smiled, though tears were in
his eyes, " you are about to depart, and with God's pleasure I shall not
be long here. You have been kind to a poor desolate old man, and I
thank you. You have not mocked my infirmities like the rest of the
world, you have been indulgent to them, though you know not their
cause. It is time you should learn the dark events which made me
what I am — a scorn and a laughing-stock to fools. You have spoken
with a voice of kindness to my broken spirit ; it was long since I had
heard such tones from any human being, and they were very sweet. In
your own land you will read these," he continued, giving me the roll of
papers he held, and pressing both my hands convulsively between his
as he did so ; " you will there learn the fatal tale I have not power to
relate, which, thank God, I sometimes forget ; my mind is not what it
was, but I have had cause for madness. I shall miss you much ; but
it will be a pleasure to me to think that you will pity me when you
know all, and that though you are far away, you sometimes offer up
your prayers for a solitary and forsaken being who hath great need of
them/'

He then darted from my presence even more abruptly than he entered.
It was the last time I beheld Monsieur St. Croix ; and as I have never
since returned to Paris, I know not whether he is still in existence. The
following narrative is extracted from his roll of papers : —

NARRATIVE OF MONSIEUR ST. CROIX.

My father was one of the haute noblesse ; it had been better for me
if he had been a beggar. I should never then have been a slave to the
leaden bondage of pride ; idleness would never have nourished the seeds
of all the evil passions which, wretched victim ! I inherited from a long
line of corrupted ancestry ; they would have had no time to bud and
blossom in the hot- bed of sloth ; I should have been compelled to labour
for my daily bread ; hunger would have tamed my wandering thoughts,
and I might have been a happy and an honest man. My father and
mother lived as many other French couples do at the present day, and
many more did then ; they dwelt under the same roof, met seldom, but
with perfect politeness on both sides ; hated each other with all their
hearts, and spoke of each other (whenever such a rare occurrence did
take place) with the tenderest affection. Sentiment covers a multitude
of sins. They had two sons, an elder brother and myself, who were

38 Monsieur St. Croix ; [JAN.

born in the first two years of their marriage, but since that time no
prospect of a family had ever existed.

Alphonse, the first-born, was destined for a military life, war being
considered the only admissible profession for the eldest son of a count
<7 /><•/•<•. I who, unluckily for myself, came into the world a year later,
was, even before my birth, condemned to the church. In fact there
was nothing else for me. The chief part of my father's income was
derived from places under government, and that died with him ; his
estates were inextricably involved by the dissipations of his youth and
the vanity of his old age ; and at his death, it would be incumbent on
my brother to support the family dignity. For the young count to do
this upon nothing was as much as could reasonably be expected ; and
my father prudently resolved to make the church provide for the rest
of his progeny. He had more than one rich benefice in his eye, which
he felt certain he had interest to procure ; and I was scarcely released
from swaddling clothes before I went by the name of the little Abbe.
To all appearance at the time, this decision gave me many advantages,
for whilst my brother was left for many years entirely to the care of
servants, and at length transferred to that of an ignorant tutor, who
took care that he should learn little, but how to ride, dance, dress, and
intrigue, I was duly instructed, by a learned churchman, in Greek,
Latin, and theological science ; but at the time I loathed such learning,
and it has since proved but useless furniture to an overburthened brain.

There never existed any affection between my brother and myself,
and as we grew older, the coldness of our childhood deepened into actual
hate. The study of divinity had not tamed my spirit ; I was young,
ardent, and full of hope, and the little I had seen and heard of the
world made me think it Elysium ; perhaps the consciousness that I was
condemned to forswear it lent it redoubled lustre. I regarded Alphonse
as the being who doomed me to be for ever debarred from its pleasures ;
was it wonderful then that I detested him? whilst the handsome person
which I inherited from my mother, made me the object of his envy and
malevolence.

Time wore away ; but though I assumed the dress of the priesthood,
and was subjected to all the discipline of the cloister, .my heart was not
in the calling. I incurred penances more than a dozen times a month,
for irreverence of manner, and absence without leave ; I was condemned
to fast on bread and water for thirty days, oirconviction of the heinous
offence of having written a love-lelter on the altar, and then thrown it,
wrapped round a sous-piece, over a wall to a young lady in a garden
adjoining the seminary ; but all this severity did but drive the flame
inwards, to corrode my heart, and burst forth at a future period with
renewed fury ; it could not still the imagination, which flew for ever
from the page of learning, and the empty ceremonies of religion, to
luxuriate in a forbidden world. I was one with whom kindness might
have (lone much, though tyranny nothing. But the reign of my oppres-
sors was drawing fast to a close. It was a time when a spirit of libera-
lity and inquiry on every subject was spreading widely abroad, and the
old, alraid of the insubordination of the young, took the very way to
drive them to rebellion. Opinions were no longer received upon trust
even in cloistered walls ; many like myself detested the whole system
of hypocrisy, sloth, and superstition of which we were made abettors ;
and my feelings had numerous participators amongst my young com-

1831.] a Tale of the Days of Terror. 39

panions, who thought with me, that the meanest toil in freedom would
be preferable to the drudgery of fasting and prayer to which we were
subjected. There was one older than ourselves in the convent, and
better acquainted with what was passing in the world, who encouraged
our awakened ardour for a change of things. He furnished us in secret
with the forbidden works of Voltaire, Rousseau, and all whose daring-
spirits were gradually arousing our nation to shake off the chains of
superstition and despotism under which they had lain benumbed for
centuries. I was too young and too ardent to distinguish accurately
what was false in these productions ; but their eloquence fascinated my
imagination, and I adopted every opinion as a truth which differed the
most directly from all the dogmas I had been taught to believe. My
own sacrifice to the shrine of my brother's greatness was to me sufficient
argument in favour of equality ; and by the time the States General were
convened at Versailles, there could not have been found in all France
a more violent advocate of the rights of the people than Auguste St.
Croix. Many of the clergy under the influence of the Abbe Sieyes, and,
from a love of novelty, joined the tiers-clat, when that assumed the name
of National Assembly ; but their zeal for liberty was soon annihi-
lated by the seizure of the church property, and the suppression of all
monastic establishments, on the 13th of February, 1790. It was not
thus with myself. I felt like a slave whose chains have been miracu-
lously struck off, or a corpse re-awakened into life and bursting from
the imprisonment of the grave.

My father and brother had already fallen sacrifices to the fury of the
ancient misused dependants of their house, whilst endeavouring to save
their castle in Franche-Compte from plunder and destruction ; and my
mother, terrified by their fate, had escaped into Flanders. But my
violent republican principles accorded well with the mania of the time ;
and though I could not recover my inheritance, I had no want of friends,
who supplied my daily necessities, until fortune should reward my
exertions in the cause of liberty. I became a member of one of the most
violent of the clubs, an intimate with several members of the National
Assembly, and a constant attendant on its debates. But amidst all my

Eolitical enthusiasm, my appetite for pleasure was undiminished ; and at
jngth I had none to check me in its indulgence, whilst thousands emu-
lated me in the pursuit. Men in those days appeared to live in a con-
tinued delirium ; murder was no more to them than the phantom of a
dream. Tumults and bloodshed were in the streets one hour, and danc-
ing and revelry the next. Even females might be seen tripping smilingly
with their gallants to the public walks, in the evening, over the sawdust
sprinkled above the moist blood which had flowed from the morning's
guillotine. It was like a time of pestilence, when men eagerly plunge
into the wildest dissipation to forget the uncertainty of life. But no
terror operated with me ; I was young, fearless of death, and looked on
the revolution and its horrors as the noblest efforts of human wisdom and
magnanimity. I loved pleasure for itself alone.

It was a lovely summer-evening towards the end of June, when I set
off with a party of friends, in pursuit of this delusive deity, to the little
village of Anniere, situated below Montmartre, on the opposite si(7e of
the river Seine. It was the village fete, and even the troubles of the
times failed to interrupt these simple festivities of my countrymen. Never
shall I forget that evening ; yet why should I say so ? I have forgotten

40 Monsieur St. Croix ; [\!AN.

it a thousand times, and would that I could for ever ! The sun was
sinking bright and cloudlessly towards the western horizon as we crossed
the broad fields of La Planchette from the Barrier Courcelle, and we lin-
gered awhile in our little boat on the Seine, to watch its golden beams
reflected in the -stream, and listen to the softened hum of festivities on
its banks. It was the last time I ever experienced the consciousness of
happiness.

Dancing had already commenced when we reached the village-green,
and many happy groups were seated around the space left for the rustic
performers, sharing their bottle of indifferent wine, and knocking their
glasses together with jovial salutations. Black eyes without number
were levelled at my companions and myself, as soon as we pushed our
way through the moving crowd, and they were not long in choosing
partners for the dance. I was no lover of the pastime ; early education
had made it awkward to me, and having no desire to exhibit before so
large an audience, I sought amusement in the contemplation of the busy
scene of happy faces around me. But my attention was soon entirely
absorbed by one object. Immediately opposite to me, and surrounded
by a group of persons, who, though dressed with republican simplicity,
were manifestly of the highest class, sat a young female of extraordinary
beauty : she might be about nineteen. But why should I attempt to
describe what no language nor limner's art could ever paint ? Poor
Claudine ! Can it be that I survive to write thus of thee ? Can it be
that my mind can contemplate thy perfections without being lost in
madness ?

Yes, she was perfection ! — and from the instant I beheld her, on that
village-green, with the full light of the sinking sun irradiating her calm
and gentle beauty, the conviction that she was so, sunk deep in my heart.
None but a madman could ever have doubted it for an instant.

I was like one planet-stricken from the moment I beheld her ; I could
not remove my gaze ; the crowd and their sports became alike invisible ;
their sounds of mirth, and the discord of their rustic music, were equally
inaudible to my ear ; I saw only the lovely being before me ; I heard
only the magical sweetness of her voice, when she occasionally addressed
her companions. At length I thought she remarked my admiration ; for
when her eyes met mine for an instant, a deep colour mounted to her
temples, and she turned aside to speak to a gentleman near at hand. I
would have given all I possessed at that moment, to have been him whom
she thus addressed and smiled upon, though he was old enough to have
been my grandfather. The jokes of my friends on my abstraction, at the
end of the dance, first aroused me from my trance ; but it was not till
another set was nearly formed, that I remembered the possibility of
obtaining the goddess of my idolatry as a partner. My hatred of danc-
ing was instantly forgotten. I advanced towards the beautiful unknown
with a palpitating heart, and in an agitated voice requested that honour.
I was refused with the utmost politeness ; but firmly and decidedly I
was refused. There was nothing astonishing in this ; for she had not
danced during the evening with any, even of her own party : but I was
offended, irritated, and annoyed ; I was disappointed. In spite of my
enthusiasm for liberty, the pride of my ancestry mounted in my heart,
and I felt a haughty consciousness that if she had known who I was, I
should not have been thus rejected, though I thought that my personal
advantages might have exempted me from the insult.

1831.] a Tale of the Days of Terror. 41

By a strange chance, I was at this instant recognized by a gentleman
who had just joined the party ; and in another moment I was formally
introduced to Claudine, and her father, Monsieur de Langeron, the sieur
of the village. He had known the elder members of my family well and
long ; and an invitation to spend the remainder of the evening at his
chateau,, whither he was just retiring with his party, was politely given,
and joyfully accepted. His daughter said little ; but that little was
so soft and gentle, as soon to dispel my displeasure, and her sweet smile
was more expressive than words. Though dancing was renewed in the
interior of the mansion, I observed she did not join in the amusement,
nor did any one present invite her to do so. I was selfish enough no
longer to regret it. Seated by her side, for a time I had nothing more
to desire. The moon had replaced the glowing sun, when I recrossed
the Seine that night; but though the calm splendour of heaven was
unbroken by a single cloud, the tranquillity of my mind was gone.
Thenceforward I became a daily visitor at Anniere ; but no one seemed
to remark or regard my attentions to Claudine, though we were almost
constantly together, and frequently alone. She had no mother ; and an
old aunt, her only female companion, unlike most of her age and sex,
seemed to entertain not the least suspicion of the consequences of our
intercourse. She left us unmolested, to take long walks by the retired
banks of the river, and to sit for hours on the terraced garden of the
chateau. Such an intimacy added burning fuel to my passion; and as
Claudine gradually lost her timidity in my presence, every day dis-
closed to me the additional charms of her unsullied mind.

Though unaware of it herself, it was impossible for me to remain long
unconscious that she loved me with all the intensity of a first affection.
I never uttered a syllable that I did not meet her glance of approbation ;
I never departed that tears did not stand in her eyes, nor was met with-
out blushes on my return. Every thought, feeling, hope, and fear of
the unfortunate girl, were mine for ever. Selfish even in my love, I
saw and exulted in all this before I disclosed the secret of my affection.
We were seated on the margin of the river, nearly on the same spot
where I landed on the first evening I beheld her, and the sun was shin-
ing in the western sky as brightly as then, when I whispered the story
of my passion in her ear. Her hand trembled violently in mine as she
listened, but in vain did I beseech her to reply to my passionate decla-
rations. She gave no answer but by tears. I entreated her by every
tender appellation to give me some slight token of her love, but she
neither moved nor spoke — she even ceased to weep. She did not with-
draw her hand from mine, but it grew icy chill, her head drooped upon
her bosom, and she fell back lifeless in my arms.

I was horror-stricken, and it was some time before I recovered suffi-
cient presence of mind to lay her gently on the grass, whilst I brought
water from the neighbouring river to bathe her hands and forehead.
Slowly, and after a long interval, she revived ; but no sooner was she
conscious that my encircling arms were around her than she shrunk
from me with convulsive horror, and struggled to arise. She was
too feeble to accomplish her purpose, and wildly and passionately I
detained her, as I entreated her to disclose by what fatal chance I
had become the object of her hatred.

" My hatred, dear Auguste ! would that you were !" she murmured,
in almost inaudible accents ; and then fixing her full dark eyes upon me

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 61. G

42 Monsieur St. Cruix ; QJAN.

for an instant, before she buried her face in her hands, she added, in a
voice tremulous from excess of emotion, " Is it possible you have yet to
learn that I am a nun ?" I started as these fearful words fell dull and
cold upon my ear, but it was long before I made any reply. Early pre-
judices arose like phantoms before my sight ; I remembered, for the
first time since our intercourse, that I too was bound by a sacred vow to
celibacy, and for a time I beheld in these trammels of bigotry the fiat
of interminable misfortune. But vows, whether sacred or profane, are
feeble against the tempest of passion ; and when the mind is once resigned
to its despotic influence, principles, and prejudices, are equally swept
away by the whirlwind. I did not long yield to despair ; the new doc-
trines I had adopted in casting aside my priest's frock, though for a
moment forgotten in the turbulence of excited feeling, soon came to my
assistance. According to these, Claudine and I were as free as at the
moment of our birth to follow the guidance of the feelings which nature
had implanted in our hearts ; and I endeavoured to convince the inno-
cent girl, with all the fervour and eloquence of which I was master,
that she was no longer the bride of heaven, and that her vows had
ceased to be binding, when formally annulled by the National Assembly.
The next day I returned again to the charge, and though she remained
unconvinced, my vehemence silenced all opposition. I saw that she
wavered between a sense of duty and the passionate feelings of her
heart, and I redoubled the earnestness of my supplications. I painted
wildly the horror and despair which awaited us should she persist in
her resolve, and doom us to an eternal separation ; whilst I described,
with all the enthusiasm which the joyful hope inspired, the felicity
attending our union. Gentle being ! it was no sin of thine that thou
clidst yield to the burning words and delirious eloquence with which I
tempted thee to thy ruin ! mine only was the guilt, and mine alone be
the long, the never-ending punishment.

That night she slept not beneath her father's roof. Trembling and
breathless with agitation, I drew her towards the brink of the river, and
though, even at the last, she struggled faintly to return, I heeded it not,
and lifting her on board the little bark which had borne me from the
opposite shore, I dipped my oars in the stream and. rowed rapidly with
the current towards St. Denis. We reached Paris before sunset, and to
tranquillize the conscience of poor Claudine, as much as in my power,
we were united before nightfal, by such ceremonies as the National
Assembly had thought proper to substitute for the ancient marriage-
rites.

My passion thus gratified, I could, for a time at least, have been per-
fectly happy, but I saw that Claudine was not so. She had acted under
the influence of my overwhelming feelings, not her own, and her reason
was never for a moment silenced. Though she complained not, she
drooped under the sense of the mighty weight of guilt she had incurred ;
the bloom faded from her cheek, and the roundness of her form gra-
dually wasted away. The state of the times, and the interest which my
necessities compelled me to take in public affairs, caused me to be fre-
quently absent from my home ; on my return I invariably found her in
tears. She shrunk from all society but mine, she refused to join in every
amusement, and each day deepened a gloom which all my efforts were
unable to dispel.

It was about this period that a young priest, of the name of Bernis,

1831.J a Tale of the Days of Terror. 43

who had formerly studied in the same seminary with myself, claimed
my protection from the persecution instituted against all his profession
who refused to take the oaths prescribed by the Assembly. Before my
change of principles, there had been a great intimacy between us,, and
I still liked the man, whom I thought kind-hearted and generous,
though I disapproved his doctrine. I did not hesitate, therefore, when
his life was in danger to afford him a retreat even in my own house,
where, from my well-known republican principles, he esteemed himself
in perfect security. Domesticated under the same roof, he was of course
much in my wife's society. With horror be it spoken, I grew jealous
of that man. I frequently surprised him in close and earnest conversa-
tion with Claudine. I saw that she regarded his slightest wish with
deference, whilst I could not help imagining that her manner towards
me became gradually more cold and estranged. There was evidently
a violent struggle at work in her breast ; her cheek, by day, burnt with
the hectic of fever, and by night, amidst her troubled and broken sleep,
long sighs frequently heaved her bosom, and I more than once heard
her murmur, in fearful accents, the names of Bernis and myself.

Suspicion once aroused in my headstrong nature, it soon assumed the
energy of truth ; and at length, after a night little short of the tortures
of the damned, I arose, resolved to expel the priest from the shelter of
my roof. As if to justify my worst imaginings, he was already gone —
and Claudine had likewise disappeared. Then did the fatal malady,
which for successive generations had asserted its black dominion over
my race, first take possession of my brain. I swore, I blasphemed, I
denounced the bitterest curses against the guilty pair. Had boiling
lead been coursing through my veins, it could not have surpassed my
agony. But there was a method in my madness.

When the first burst of my fury passed away, I began sedulously to
seek out the abode of the fugitives. Step by step I traced them, as the
blood-hound follows his prey ; but when I learnt the secret of their
hiding-place I was satisfied. I did not intrude myself on their privacy,
for reproaches and upbraidings would have afforded no relief to my
overburthened soul. No ! I had a deeper, a darker, a more satisfying
revenge in store. Coldly and calmly, as a sleep-walker, but with fiend-
like pleasure, I went and denounced Claudine and her seducer to the
revolutionary tribunal, as aristocrats and non-conformists. Yes, I
delivered my innocent, my confiding, my adored Claudine, to the
blood-thirsty vengeance of those inhuman vampires, and exulted in the
deed!

I have an indistinct remembrance of lingering in the street till the
minions of the law bore her forth in their arms to the carriage which
was to convey her, with the unfortunate Bernis, to the prison of the
Abbey, and of struggling vainly to rescue her from their grasp ; but it
is like the confusion of a dream. The first circumstance which I clearly
recollect, after a fearful chasm of many days, was the receipt of a letter,
the direction of which, though written with a trembling hand, I instantly
recognized as my wife's writing ; and eager to snatch at anything which
might prove the fallacy of the thoughts fast thronging on my brain,
I tore it wildly open. It was dated from the prison to which I had
doomed her. But though thirty years have rolled their dark current
above my head since that hour — though every word has been since then
like the sting of a serpent to my brain — -I would, even now, rather die

G 2

44 Monsieur St. Croix ; a Tale of the Days of Terror. f JAN.

than transcribe it. It convinced me of her innocence and her love.
I gathered from its details that the reproaches of Bernis had deepened
her repentance of our unholy union ; till at length,, guided by his advice,
she had sacrificed the best affections of her heart at the shrine of ima-
ginary duty, and torn herself from the only being she loved to expiate
the guilt of that affection in the seclusion of a foreign convent. Poor
victim ! she prayed him, who had sacrificed her peace and her life to
his diabolical passions, to use his influence to procure the liberation of
herself and her holy director from their fearful prison. ^

Let me briefly pass over the narrative of that day. I started up, flew
to the tribunal of the commune, attested the innocence of the accused ;
and my intimacy witli the chiefs of the democrats sufficed to make my
word a law, and procured for me without delay a warrant for the libe-
ration of Claudine and the priest. I hurried with breathless speed along
the streets towards their prison, but crowds at every turning impeded
my progress. Murder was already abroad in the city. It was the 2d of
September, 1792 — that day which has fixed for ever one of the blackest
stains on the history of my country. As I passed the prisons of the Chatelet
and La Force, I heard the groans and supplications of the dying, ming-
ling fearfully with the demoniac yells of an infuriated mob ; women's
screams arose wildly on the air, and blood came flowing past me, down
the channels of the streets. Every thing betokened that the prisons
were burst open, and their unfortunate inhabitants massacred by
inhuman ruffians.

Dark and fearful were the forebodings which thronged upon my mind,
as, on approaching the Abbey, the same sounds of tumult and murder
burst upon my ear. I hurried on, in spite of every obstacle, with a velo-
city which only madness could have lent me, till I reached the front of
the building ; and there such a scene presented itself as my soul sickens
to think on. The armed multitude of men and women of the lowest
class resembled in their fury rather fiends than human beings — but
I heeded them not ; I sprang over the dying and the dead ; I escaped
from the grasp of the assassin — for there was yet hope that I might not
be too late j and, though I recognized the mangled body of Bernis
amidst a heap of slain, I relaxed nothing of my speed — for my wife, my
adored Claudine might yet survive his destruction. My suspense was soon
at an end. Yes, I saw her, and yet I survived the sight. I saw her,
at a little distance ; she was kneeling with clasped hands at the feet of
an infuriated ruffian, whose weapon was already at her breast. At that
moment she recognized my cry of agony, sprang wildly on her feet, and
called with an imploring voice on my name. It was the last word she
uttered. The steel struck her ere she could escape into my arms. It

struck deeply and fatally — yet well for her. — But for me !

H.D.B.

1831.] [ 45 ]

LORD BROUGHAM S LOCAL COURTS.

NOTHING but the most imperative causes can justify abrupt revolu-
tions, political or judicial. The course of human affairs — stability
and security are valuable qualities — requires, when changes must be
made, that they be gradually made. Institutions of any considerable
standing, get worked into the frame of society ; associations couple
with them ; habits accommodate ; occasional inconveniences are practi-
cally remedied or relieved, or when they grow into incumbrances, can
generally be cut away, like other excrescences, without taking with
them the life of the plant. It is better to make the best of human
imperfections than to speculate upon " absolute wisdom." It is better,
usually, to pare down superfluities, and do what you can to obviate
defects, than to sweep away at once good and bad, and replace them by
some new fangled structure, just to shew your architectural dexterity,
by something which is strange to every body, and against which the very
strangeness excites prejudice, and indisposes every body. More grave-
ly, it is better, all allow, to bear the ills we have, than to go to others
that we know not of; and at all events, it is safer to remove what we
see and feel to be bad, than rashly, by slashing novelties, to incur the risk
of creating new ones. Every one sees the evils of our Courts of Juris-
diction, but every one, at the same time, recognizes the stuff and tex-
ture of them to be good. Improvements might doubtless be made in
the machinery, and more perhaps in the working of it — then why should
not these be first attempted? What is Mr. — , we beg his lordship's
pardon — what is Lord Brougham and Vaux about in this matter ? Op-
posing, in the very teeth of his own maxims, arrangements which he
has long been urging, and trampling upon principles which none more
than he has been forward to inculcate. But Mr. — , pish ! — Lord
Brougham, is a lawyer; the yea and the nay of a question are equally
familiar ; he is a ready scribe as well as speaker ; words cost him no-
thing ; and there are few subjects — from that of the slave-trade — upon
which he may not be quoted on both sides. " The best and most effica-
cious plan of improvement — (we quote him, or the Edinburgh Review) —
is that which does the smallest violence to the established order of things ;
requires the least adventitious aid, or complex machinery, and as far as
may be executes itself. It is from ignorance of this principle that the
vulgar perpetually mistake a great scheme for a good one ; a various
and complicated, for an efficacious one ; a shewy and ambitious piece of
legislature, for a sound and useful law/'

Lord Brougham, as well as others, has for years been projecting
law reforms ; many of these reforms, as they are called, have been put
into practice, sometimes with good, and as often perhaps with question-
able effect ; but what is a very remarkable peculiarity, come from what
quarter they will, they all end — we must use a plain term — in jobs ; not
in reduction of courts and judges, arid expence, but in augmenting all—
law-reform is a synonyme for new law-offices.

The increase of law-patronage of late years, accomplished, or con-
templated, is prodigious. Not long since we had a new Chancery judge;
more recently a whole set of judges for circuit insolvent-courts, commis-
sioners for charities, commissioners of inquiry, secretaries, &c. An
exchange of Welch judges for English ones, fewer in number, it is true,

46 Lord Brough&m's T^ocal Courts. Q.TAN.

but at a higher cost — to say nothing of compensation-pensions — was the
fruit of the last session, with we know not how many projects, under the
same auspices, for fresh offices. Among them was another equity
judge — a creation of registrars' places for younglings at the bar — an
extension of jurisdiction for bankrupt commissions from forty to eighty
miles of town, implying of course an addition in numbers or emolu-
ments— bankrupt commissions in provincial towns, at the will of the
chancellor — more commissions, at the will again, of the chancellor, for
the examination of witnesses; — and now from the new chancellor him-
self, the crowning blessing for this lawyer-ridden country — a whole
regiment of new judges to preside over new courts in every county town
of the kingdom. Whig or Tory, no matter, lawyers are all alike ; — ex-
tension of professional employment, at least in the higher departments of
the law, is the one absorbing object that fills the heads and hearts of
every man among them.

No matter, neither, how contradictory or incompatible the tendencies
of these reforms — for they are all reforms — they create office ; in that
they all agree ; there, there is no discrepancy. Good-natured souls, who
are ready to confide on the virtues of all who lay claim to virtues, give
the proposers credit for meaning all they profess ; and the blame of in-
congruous and clashing institutions, if blame be cast any where, is
thrown upon those who have had nothing to do with the matter. Here
are a half hundred new courts going to be instituted, the object of which,
it is said, is to relieve the upper courts, and that just as three of the most
expensive class of judges have been added to these very courts, and just as
more schemes are on the anvil for facilitating and abridging their labours.
Here are a set of stationary courts, or courts confined to one unvarying
circuit, just as the Welsh judges have been gotten rid of, expressly
because they were attached to the same circuit, and so, liable to form
slippery connections. Just, again, as arrests for debt are on the point
of being abandoned, because the power of arrest gives encouragement
to credit, these courts, in the expectation and avowed design of the
author, are to accelerate the process of recovering debts, and by that
means, so far, encourage the destructive system of credit.

But what is the especial, or, more to the purpose, what is the alleged
ground for the proposed change ? The overburdenings of the superior
courts. What advantages are specifically aimed at and looked for ?
Despatch — a saving of time and money — cheap justice, and justice at
your own doors. Well, but these are good things. Thousands are said
to abandon their rights through the dread of asserting them. Thousands
submit to wrong, because the remedy is worse than the disease. In the
recovery of debts, good money is often thrown after bad ; and valuable
time is lost in the pursuit of inadequate satisfaction. Therefore, if Lord
Brougham facilitates redress — saves time and money — and secures a
remedy for grievances not now to be attained, he is a benefactor and a
reformer in the best sense, and we hail such a measure with joy and
gratitude. Very well, but let us not be precipitate ; to talk and do are
two things, one of which all the world knows the Chancellor can do
admirably, but unhappily that is no better than a shadow, if we can
imagine such a thing out of the regions of diablerie, that has no cor-
responding substance. Let us cast a calm, but it must be a brief, look
at the evil and the remedy. The evil is an excess of business, and the
expense and delay occasioned by attendance on the central courts of

1831.] Lord Brougham's Local Courts. 47

Westminster, and the assizes in the country. Two thirds of the causes
that come before them — no matter for nicety — certainly more than
half, are relative to sums below £50. Now these, if not in their nature,
in their importance are too contemptible, it seems, for the superior courts,
and cost more than they are worth to prosecute ; these, then, are to be
turned over to resident judges, whose courts are always open — are at
every man's door — where justice is retailed at a cheap rate, with de-
spatch, and no superfluous waste of time or trouble. This is the
remedy.

These courts are to be put to the proof of their efficiency at first only
in a couple of counties, but as it is confidently anticipated they will
finally be sown over the whole country, and the apparatus in each
county will be the same, we shall take our glance at the effect of the
whole. And the first thing that strikes is the formidable expense of the
machinery. Fifty — for the sake of round numbers — fifty of these
judges, each at an amount, including salaries and fees, not exceeding
£2,000, — as many registrars each, including, as before, salaries and fees,
at £700, with an establishment of clerks, messengers, ushers, &c., at
least, at as much more., will together swell to a sum not much short of
£200,000 a-year. Now this, be it observed, is proposed by a man who,
not long ago, talked so earnestly, as of a matter of serious importance, of
the savings attending the removal of the Welsh Judges. The £9,800,
says he, taken from the Welsh judges, with £500 from each of the
twelve Westminster judges, will make £15,800, which will pay the three
new ones, who are to be thoroughly effective. The salaries of the twelve,
however, were not clipped — the three new judges were added at the full
price — the Welsh judges, who survive, have their compensation-pensions;
and here is to be an entire addition of a sum not much short of
£200,000 for fifty new judges, as like the old Welsh ones as one pea is
like another. Such will be the public share of the expense. That,
however, if any real and adequate advantage resulted, might be bear-
able, though in common equity, in the existing state of society, the liti-
gants themselves should pay the charges of justice. The main con-
sideration, still, is the expense to the actual litigants ; and how far that
is likely to be reduced by the new arrangements, we shall see better,
after we have considered, what the author lays the chief stress upon —
the expedition — the despatch, in the transaction of causes — which he
regards as the best characteristic and glory of his plan.

Now this acceleration consists in justice being brought home to the
parties — to their own doors, is the favourite phrase. But how, in the
name of common sense, is this to be managed? There is but one judge
to a county. But he can move about, and he is to move about. He is
to hold his court every month — eleven out of the twelve — he is
to go from town to town, to one four times in the year, to some twice, to
others once. On the average, then, justice can be administered but
twice in the year, and that it is already everywhere, and in town, almost
at all times. So here is no gain whatever in point of time, and some
loss. Now, as to the expense to the litigants, plaintiffs and defendants do
not always live on the same spot, so that should justice be brought to the
door of one party, the chance is very small of its being so brought to
the other, — and that is precisely the case at present. But under the
existing system, the defendant follows the plaintiff; while under the
new arrangements the plaintiff must follow the defendant, which is a

48 Lord Brougham's Local Courts. [JAN.

most serious grievance, for common experience proves the plaintiff to be
generally in the right. Here then the plaintiff is placed in a worse con-
dition than before, and this is called reform, and the admiration of the
world is challenged for so ingenious an improvement !

We see then how expense is likely to be saved; the defendant is
spared at the cost of the plaintiff, or in other words, in nine cases out of
ten probably, the offender at the cost of the sufferer. Suppose the
plaintiff to be a dry-salter in London, who has furnished articles in the
way of his trade to a customer at Morpeth. The defendant's residence
is within the district court of Northumberland, and the cause comes on
for trial at Newcastle. The plaintiff, to prove his case, is obliged to carry
from London to Newcastle his books, the person who made the entries,
the packer, the porter who delivered the goods to the carrier, and pos-
sibly somebody to prove the quality and value of the goods — the whole
of which expense and inconvenience might have been spared, by laying
his action, .as he could now do, in London. Well, but if the expense
attending the bringing up witnesses cannot be materially reduced, that
of lawyers will be. They are on the spot, and charges of travelling are
spared. No such thing — the supposition shews the author of the plan
knows little of the actual practice of business. Had he consulted the
first solicitor that fell in his way, he might have learned better. The
country attorney rarely attends the Westminster courts ; he transacts the
whole through his London agent, and the difference of expense to the
suitor amounts to a trifling postage. No additional fees are charged : the
fees are shared between the tow.n and country attorney in some fixed pro-
portion. It is as easy to act through the metropolis, as through a county
town. In most legal matters the course and management of men of
business has made it actually more so. The facilities, too, of convey-
ance, now-a-da}rs, annihilates both space and time, and cheapens expense
accordingly. But under this new and choice arrangement, how is the
plaintiff to act who has debtors at a distance ? Why naturally he con-
sults his attorney where his case is, where his cause of action arose,
and his witnesses live. Must that attorney have an agent in every dis-
trict town ? If he has not, how is he to serve notices, and to be served
with them ? And if he has, at once the new system is worse and more
expensive than the old, for certainly the quantity of business will
never enable him to make the same arrangement that is now made
between the country attorney and the central practitioner in town.

Justice, then, accessible, prompt and cheap — the promises which these
new institutions hold out — they will not be able to furnish more success-
fully than the existing courts, — especially with the curtailments sug-
gested by the law commission, at once easy to be accomplished, and not
likely to meet with insuperable obstructions.

The matter must not be dismissed, however, so abruptty. Turn we
for a moment to the business of these courts. They are intended, it
seems, to relieve the courts of Westminster and the assize Nisi Prius j
and, of course, whatever comes before them, comes before these district
judges — within certain circumscriptions. All actions of debt, trespass,
or trover not exceeding £100 ; and all actions of tort, or personal
wrongs, where the damages are not beyond £50. All actions, again, for
breach of agreement, whether under seal or not, where damages are
within £100 — though, by consent, the court may try these to any amount
of damages. The judges are not to anticipate an idle life, their creator

183J.] Lord Broughams Local Courts. 49

has cut out other work for them ; they are to be not only judges, but
arbitrators — not only arbitrators, but conciliators. Even these offices
will not fill up their time sufficiently ; and they must occupy their spare
hours with a little equity practice, for the recovery of legacies, &c., just
to tax the versatility of their powers.

Rarce aves must these new judges be ; and where in the world are
fifty of them to be found ? But supposing them to be found, will their
courts be acceptable, at last, to the suitors ? We say boldly they
will not. They are inferior courts, and will inevitably share the fate
and fortunes of other inferior courts. Such courts never have been
respected. Courts for determining small causes — involving, we mean,
small sums — are numerous enough already in this country ; but they
are little used — reluctantly resorted to — and falling off in practice year
by year. Law is cheap enough there, but, whatever may be its quality,
nobody believes it good ; and Lord Brougham himself has told us, that
though cheap justice is a very good thing, yet costly justice is better
than cheap injustice; — ay, and people will never believe otherwise.
Inferior courts abound in America, and every body has heard with what
effect. In France, too, the courts of the Juges de Paix are as thick as
hops, and as little respected as the pied-poudre ones of our own fairs.
It becomes disgraceful to appeal to them — it is like dragging a man
through a horsepond — creditable to neither party. It is not, in short,
in the nature of man to be satisfied with an inferior article where a
better is attainable, or supposed to be so. Nobody buys willingly what
is bad in his own town, when he can get the good at the same price,
or nearly so, by sending to the capital.

But the respectability of the new judges — the rank they hold in the
profession — the very amount of income, will give weight to their deci-
sions, will invest them with an authority that no other inferior courts
ever before possessed, and, therefore, by no principle of sound logic can
similar conclusions be drawn from premises so unlike. Well, then, let
us reconsider these judges invested with the paraphernalia of superior
authority — stuck up in a bit of a room at some paltry inn. Are they
superior in standing or station to the late Welsh judges — to existing
recorders in corporate towns — to commissioners of bankruptcy, or even
to the commissioners of insolvent courts ? No, they will not be supe-
rior, for instance, to the Welsh judges, the best of these classes. Now
on what ground did you get rid of them ? " Because" — we quote the
Chancellor — he is always at hand — among other objections — " they
never change their circuit j one, for instance, goes the Carmarthen cir-
cuit, another the Brecon circuit, and a third the Chester circuit — but
always the same circuit. And what is the inevitable consequence?
Why they become acquainted with the gentry, the magistrates, almost
with the tradesmen, of each district, the very witnesses who come before
them ; and intimately with the practitioners, whether counsel or attor-
neys. The names, the faces, the characters, the histories, of all these
persons are familiar to them ; and out of this too great knowledge grow
up likings and prejudices, which never can, by any possibility, cast a
shadow across the open, broad, and pure path of the judges of West-
minster Hall."

Now the new judges are precisely the Welsh judges — they are run
in the same mould ; they are eternally in the same circuit, and must be
liable to the very same objections — though some of those objections are

M.M. New Series.— Voi. XI. No. 61. H

50 Lord Brougham's Local Courts. QJAN.

mere sarcasms and insinuations, little applicable to the honourable men at
whom they were levelled. But a much more serious objection will apply,
from which the Welsh judges were most of them exempt. Most of them
practised in the superior courts, and though we do not much admire
seeing the same individuals, now judges, now advocates, they were at
least familiar with the practice of those courts ; they caught the current
tone of those courts ; they kept up with the latest decisions ; and, at all
events, if improvements were made, they took them with them to their
own tribunals. But the new local judge never stirs from his circuit;
he never visits the Westminster Courts ; he has nothing to do there ;
lie has no intercourse or communion with his brethren ; and the stock
in trade he takes with him must last him, whether it grows stale and
out of date and application or not. Books to be sure are accessible ;
bifc all these judges will not be readers ; and if they were, does any
person imagine reading reports will supply the want of personal ac-
quaintance with the superior courts ? Few consultors of reports, we
believe, are inclined to value them as highly as their own experience in
courts, where they see, hear, and estimate upon the fullest grounds.
What, in fact, gives superiority to the supreme judges of the land but
their intercommunion — their interchange of sentiments ? — they consult
each other ; one is a check upon the other, and a stimulus ; and a pro-
gressive improvement in practical knowledge, and, above all, uniformity
is the useful result.

But these local judges will be the Jupiters of their own circuits; they
will bear no rivals near their thrones, and will have none. They will
have no one to check their decisions, and will naturally play the tyrant,
controllable only by appeals. The inevitable and speedy consequence
will be, that what is law in one county will not be law in another.
The judge of Canterbury will differ from the judge of York, and each
of them from his brother of Bristol, and neither even know of the dis-
crepancy. Points of difference will multiply insensibly and abundantly,
and the only remedy will be appeals ; and appeals there will doubtless
be to such an extent, as quickly to extinguish all hope of any useful
result from these courts. The only advantage will be, the superior
courts will have to try the judges instead of the causes — the value of
which the country will soon estimate.

A mighty emphasis is laid upon their efficiency as arbitrators, and
still more as conciliators. Now arbitration, on the order of a court, is
notoriously an unpopular expedient. To make it indeed acceptable, it
must be the free choice of the parties. No good is likely to be accom-
plished by adding more compulsion to what we find described, and
justly, as a sort of mixed bully-and-coax system of tactics, by which
judge and counsel combine to force reluctant parties to submit to the
decision of somebody, of whom they know nothing, and in whom they
have no confidence. But the conciliatory functions of the courts seem
to be the favourite contrivance of the author of them. Here the judge
is to play the adviser ; and the object is to spare the embryo litigant
the expense of consulting an attorney. In France similar courts have
utterly failed, and why should we expect a different effect here ? A
French authority thus laments over the failure. — " Que cette idee etait
philosophique et salutaire de n'ouvrir Tacces des tribunaux qu'apres
I'epuisement de toutes les voies de conciliation ! pourquoi faut-il qu'-
une si belle institution n'ait pas produit tout le bien qu'on devait en
attcndre, and que les effets aient si peu repondu aux esperances?"

1831.] Lord Broughams Local Courts. 51

But in nothing will these courts fail in point of attraction and effi-
ciency so much as in the want of counsel of approved ability. You
cannot have a body of intelligent counsel attending these courts ; and
without counsel, who will regard them ? The court is constantly on
the move ; every month the judge changes his position, and often twice ;
for instance, he sits at Dover, and adjourns the same month to Canter-
bury— at Rochester, and adjourns to Ramsgate — at Hythe, and adjourns
to Romney. Conceive the expense of this eternal itinerancy ; no fees
can ever meet the expense. At Maidstone, the court sits four times.
Maidstone will, of course, be the judge's home, and there may collect
two or three counsel, who will also travel occasionally to other towns,
when they scent a quarry that will pay. But if a decent pleader should
grow up among them, like country actors, he will not be content till he
gets upon the London boards. But the fact will be, the business of the
barrister must drop wholly into the hands of solicitors; and will the
suitors be content with solicitors' law ? It may be as good, but they
will not think so. The courts, in short, if they begin respectably and
with favour, will fall off with the novelty ; they will degenerate in pub-
lic estimation — will be scouted, and every evasion will be practised to
swell causes to an amount to entitle them to go into the superior courts.

After all, our objection to the new arrangements, at the bottom, is,
that they are really and truly superfluous, and this may readily be
shewn. Supposing them to be fully effective — and if they are not
effective, why think of them for a moment ? — what is to become of the
time of the superior judges? According to the Chancellor's own data
— of the 93,375 affidavits filed in the courts in 1827, no less than 78,000
were below £100 — so that one-sixth only of the usual business would
be left for the Westminster Courts. Again, the business at the London
sittings, before Lord Tenterden, in 1829, four-fifths of the cases were
for sums below £100. So that the fair inference is, that not more than
a sixth, or at most a fifth of the business would be left for the old
courts. But it is quite manifest, at the same time, that these old courts
have not now more to do than they might easily manage, to the perfect
satisfaction to the country. As to their actual business, some have too
much perhaps, and some certainly too little. But, in the name of com-
mon sense, why should this inequality longer exist? We know the
immediate causes are, difference of process — privileges of the solicitors
of the courts — monopoly of Serjeants, &c. ; but what is to prevent,
where the interests of the country demand them, the sweeping away of
every one of these impediments ? Place the three courts perfectly upon
an equality— with appeals, not to one of them, but to the whole body of
the judges — and we are quite confident, the practice of the courts
would speedily equalize. If one were from any cause, to get a super-
abundance of business, it would quickly be reduced, by the prospect of
an earlier decision in the leisure court. The business would have a con-
stant tendency to equalize — counsel, who of course, must be at liberty to
practice in all, or a favourite pleader would break in upon the natural
adjustment.

But such equalization will not be thought perhaps to remove the great
evils which the local courts are established expressly to remove — expense
and delay. We are persuaded it will do both, especially when the
charges suggested by the law commission are carried into effect (and
really Lord R. ought to wait and see how these will operate), with some
others that would prove equally effective. The sweeping away of the

H 2

52 Lord Brougham's Local Courts. [[JAN.

rubbish of ' pleading,' and useless formalities will do wonders. What is
done now with difficulty at Westminster, may obviously be done with
ease, and a considerable reduction of delay and expense. And as to the
nisi prius of. the assizes, the existing obstructions may be obviated, partly
by a third assize, of which the chancellor himself has been an advocate,
in favour of criminal business, and partly by a different arrangement of
place, and an extension of time, in the circuits. Even with only two
assizes there is little need of remands ; for why should not the courts be
kept open till the cause-list is exhausted ? A complaint was made the
other day in the House of Lords, that the Norfolk spring assize never
gets but one judge, though two are of course appointed. The conse-
quence is, naturally, that much of the business is left unheard, for the
time is limited and every thing gives way, when that time expires. The
chancellor answered, that if he had any influence in the matter, and
chancellors usually had, the good people of Norfolk should have two in
future. To be sure — and not only they, but every other circuit that now
gets only one. To be sure — let the best — let full use be made of the
existing judicial machinery, and little will be left to complain of, and
least of all, will any new court be required.

MRS. JORDAN AND HER BIOGRAPHER.*

THE Town is a monster. We are afraid that i all that can be said
upon the subject. But the monster must be fed. Anecdotes, private
histories, biographies of the weak, the wicked, the merry, or the wise,
are its favourite food ; and it will find feeders as long as there are those
who can make pence or popularity by the office ; and food, as long as
there are noble lords, or fallen statesmen, royal dukes, or clever actresses,
in the world. A part of this is according to a law of nature — and must
therefore be submitted to as to any other necessity. But a part of it
belongs to that law by which a man sometimes thinks himself entitled to
make money in any mode that he can ; a law which we punish in the
case of highwaymen, the keepers of Faro-banks, quacks, and impostors of
all kinds. The quocunque modo rem has been the code of those
active classes from time immemorial, and they have been hanged, dun-
geoned, and banished accordingly. We by no means desire to see the
Biographical School extinguished, though unquestionably its prevalence
in the present day must make many an honest man shiver at the thought
of what is to become of him, when he falls into the hands of his friends
a week or two after he has lost the power of bringing an action for
defamation in this world. What is life good for, unless it be an easy
life ? and what life can be easy while a man is perfectly convinced that
some literary undertaker is waiting only for the moment the breath is
out of his body to pounce upon his " Remains ;" run away with his
tf Recollections ;" and by advertising his (< Life," the dearer part of him,
his reputation, justify a regret that the sufferer had not adopted the
anticipatory justice of taking his ? The whole process tends to the
treason against human nature, of giving an additional care to the cata-
logue of human cares. All life is at best but a field of battle, and what
soldier goes into the battle more cheerfully by knowing that he has, in
the rear of the line, a suttler who follows him with no other purpose
than to make the most of him when he is down, to strip him of coat
and waistcoat, and sell every thing saleable about him to the best bid-

* The Life of Mrs. Jordan. By James Boaden, Esq. In 2 vols, 8vo.— BulL

1831.] Mrs. Jordan and her Biographer. 53

der? The crime is one clearly of lese majeste, and we must so far
denounce it as worthy of the severest penalties of Parnassus. But this
anecdote trade does more than torment the easy part of mankind. It
maddens the ambitious. The whole tribe of those living nuisances, the
wits by profession, the " enliveners," the " embellishers/' the laborious
students of the art of shining, the inveterate getters-by-heart of acci-
dental good things, the whole prepared-impromptu, dull-brilliant, and
pains-taking idle race, who flourish through literary dinners, and are
announced as the lamps and lustres of conversaziones, are absolutely
encouraged in their pernicious practices by the belief that somebody or
other may yet embalm them in a biography ; that even at the moment
of delivering his most obsolete absurdity, some man of the tf ever-
pointed pencil and asses' skin" may be gleaning their words ; that their
" Life and Sayings" may be already half way through the press, and
that they may live in three octavo volumes with all their bons-mots in full
verdure round them at the first blush of the " publishing season."

But the present work lays claims to public curiosity on peculiar
grounds, and we are sorry to be compelled to say, that it furnishes one of
the most repulsive examples of the worst taste in those matters that even
the avidity of the modern press has ever displayed. Mr. Boaden is a
man of literary character, of long experience in literary history, and
abundant in striking anecdote relative to that part of life to which
a general interest is attached — the drama. But he has here chosen
a topic to which no interest can belong except that of a degrading desire
for prying into the habits of high life : the subject of his Memoir is an
unhappy woman, whose name had long since sunk into oblivion ; and
the object of his book is still more humiliating ; the universal voice has
pronounced that such a work could not have been produced at such a
period but for one purpose ; the very advertisement that accounted for
the delay of its appearance, more than hinted that it was retarded by
the expectation of its being bought up. The author's preface speaks
the same language, and Captain Swing himself could not commence his
career with a more direct threat than the whole tissue of this writer's
explanation of his motives. We have in his preface that constant
allusion to Mrs. Jordan's private life, which was meant to startle other
ears than those of the people. What do the public care about the private
life of any actress ? Or who can be fairly interested in the tedious
details of difficulties and incumbrances, or the darker story of excesses
and follies which ought never to have existed, or existing, ought never
to have seen the light ? But, throwing aside all consideration of the
unhappy woman who forms the subject of these volumes, how is it
possible that the writer should not have felt the respect due to the
possessor of the throne ? We are as far, as British freedom can be, from
either flattering or disguising the crimes of men in high authority. But
this writer should have known, that when the errors are no more, it is
idle and offensive to bring them again before the world ; that the reserve
due to every man in private life is at least due to the throne ; and that,
in all cases of this volunteer scandal, the writer lays himself under the
direct imputation of being actuated by either malignant or mercenary
motives.

But a publication of this kind is disrespectful, not merely to those
whom we are bound to honour, but cruel to those for whom we are
bound to have the common sympathy due to individuals conducting
themselves without offence in society. The surviving family of Mrs.
Jordan ought to have been secured from the publication of details in

54 Mrs. Jordan and her Biographer. QJAN.

which they had no share, which they could not help, and for which,
however painful to themselves, they can have no blame. They have an
undoubted right to complain of the rashness or cupidity which has
forced their history thus rudely before the world; and in the as-ertion of
that right they will be accompanied by the feelings of every man of
delicacy and honour in the empire.

It is only justice to the Fitzclarence family to acknowledge that none
have kept themselves clearer from public offence ; and that they have
not been implicated in any of the excesses for which high connections
and courts offer such ready temptation. But the chief fault which we
have to find with the writer is his injury to the cause of British author-
ship, by setting an example of that literary menace, which, however it
may have failed in the present instance, will find imitators among
classes destitute of even his portion of reserve, turn biography into a
public shame, and inflict, of all others, the most fatal blow on the
national literature.

Having given our decided reprobation to the principles of such works
in general, we shall now glance over the general features of the volumes.
Mrs. Jordan was born in Ireland, about 1762, near Waterford; the
daughter of Mrs. Bland, an actress. Her first engagement was under
the name of Francis, at Daly's theatre in Dublin, in her sixteenth year;
Henderson, the actor, saw her play in the Romp, at Cork, where she was
engaged at twenty shillings a week ; and spoke so highly of her talents,
that on her return to Dublin, her salary was raised to three guineas a
week. Daly the manager of the theatre was a character — " He was born
in Galway, and educated in Trinity College. As a preparation for the
course he intended to run through in life, he had fought sixteen duels in
two years, three with the small sword, and thirteen with pistols, and he,
I suppose, imagined like Macbeth, that he bore a charmed life, for he
had gone through the sixteen trials of his nerve without a single wound
or scratch of consequence. He therefore used to provoke such meet-
ings upon any grounds, and entered the field in pea-green, embroidered,
ruffled, and curled, as if for a very different ball, and gallantly presented
his full front, conspicuous, finished with an elegant brooch, quite re-
gardless how soon the labours of the toilet might soil their honours in
the dust. In person he was remarkably handsome, and his features
would have been agreeable, but for an inveterate and most distressing
squint, the consciousness of which might keep his courage on the look-
out for provocation. Like Wilkes, he must have been a very unwelcome
adversary to meet with the sword, because the eye told the opposite party
nothing of his intentions."

We have then a sketch of Mrs. Abington, which has some value, as
from the personal observation of one familiar with the stage : — " Mrs.
Abington unquestionably possessed very peculiar and hitherto unap-
proached talent. She took more entire possession of the stage than any
actress I have seen. The ladies of her day wore the hoop and its con-
comitant train. Her fan exercise was really no play of fancy;
shall I say that I have never seen it in a hand so dexterous as that of
Mrs. Abington. She was a woman of great application; to speak as she
did, required more thought than usually attends female study. Common
place was not the station of Abington. She was always beyond the sur-
face ; and seized upon the exact cadence and emphasis by which the
point of the dialogue is enforced. Her voice was of a high pitch and
not very powerful ; her management of it alone made it an organ. Her
deportment is not so easily described ; more womanly than Farren, fuller

1831.] Mrs. Jordan and her Biographer. 55

than Younge, and far beyond the conception of modern fine ladies, Mrs.
Abington remains in memory, as a thing for chance to restore to us
rather than design, and revive our polite comedy at the same time."

Mr. Boaden is mistaken here. The revival of polite comedy will not
depend on any performer. The revival of dramatic authorship must be
the previous discovery, and until we have polite comedy written, there
might be fifty Abingtons playing to empty benches. At York Miss
Francis was introduced to Tate Wilkinson, that eternal nuisance of
every dramatic biography. The very name makes us sick, and accord-
ingly we have a vast deal about this maudlin manager. Here she
changed the name of Francis for Jordan, why, is not told, and nobody
can care. At Sheffield she had a narrow escape from closing her
labours and her fame. The beam of the stage curtain fell within a few
feet of her, a weight sufficient to have crushed a whole stage-full of
comedians. The opera in which this occurred had a worse fate for the
unlucky author Pilon. He had promised to pay the composer ; the
opera fell profitless ; the composer demanded his hire, and the author,
pennyless, was forced to fly.

The world has been so often called a stage, that the stage, as if entitled
to retaliate, often exhibits a ludicrous " picture in little" of the world.
The boards of a country theatre, with its dozen wanderers playing every
thing from the king to the lamp-lighter, exhibit as much extravagant am-
bition, empty rivalry, bitter vanity, and laborious nothingness, as the
most brilliant court in existence. We have thus, en passant, the history
of a Mrs. Smith, who ruled and grasped characters with the vigour of a
Catherine the Second, seizing provinces from the Grand Turk. Being a
wife, she was, from the increase of her progeny, liable to interruptions,
which she made hazardously brief, lest a rival actress should appear in
any of her favourite parts. Her confinement took place on the 2d of
October in a remarkably wet season. The troop were to march on the
13th to Sheffield, eighteen miles off. And this Thalestris was so deter-
mined to exclude any competitor for the good graces of the Sheffield
critics, that she began to exercise daily in a damp garden, in order to
qualify herself for the journey. She accomplished one part of her pur-
pose, the journey, but paid for it by a lameness in the hip, which threat-
ened to disable her for life. The poor creature had now better have
gone to bed ; but Mrs. Jordan must, in that case, have been her double ;
rather than suffer this triumph, she insisted on playing in the " Clan-
destine Marriage," hobbled through it as crippled as Lord Ogleby, and
having achieved this point, was rendered by the effort incapable of ap-
pearing on the stage for some months after. The personage is not of
much historic importance, we will allow. But we presume that the
caution was well meant, te under existing circumstances/' and will be
attended to upon due occasion.

Mrs. Jordan was now rising into notice, but opinions differed formi-
dably on her powers. Dick Yates, the actor, pronounced at this period,
of the three ornaments of the York stage, that Miss Wilkinson (after-
wards Mrs. Mountain) was " very pleasing and promising ; Mrs. Brown
the height of excellence; and Mrs. Jordan, merely apiece of theatrical
mediocrity!" The Siddons herself was not much luckier in her decision;
for, on seeing the young actress at York, in 17&5, she said, " She was
better where she was, than to venture on the London boards/' The
sentence is furiously slipslop, and unworthy of the utterer ; though,
perhaps, it was modified by Tate Wilkinson, who transmits it. Of
course Mrs. Jordan had no mercy shewn to her in her own theatre ; there,

56 Mr*. Jordan and her Biographer. |[JAN.

her manager was told, that " when he had lost his great treasure (his
term for Mrs. Jordan), it would soon be turned back upon his hand,
and it would be glad to come, if he would accept it" Siddons herself
was not without her prophets ; and William Woodfall, who seems to
have delighted to be busy in every thing, from politics to plays, ad-
vised her, on her first appearance, — " to keep to small theatres in the
country, where she could be heard; she was too weak for London
stages." The same authority had decided on Sheridan's first speech, with
equal success, and recommended to him " to give up all expectation of
being a public speaker, and stick to some trade in which he would not
have to open his mouth."

In 1785, Mrs. Jordan, by the recommendation of " a gentleman,"
Smith, was engaged at Drury-lane. Siddons was then the rage. The
world of fashion would look at no one else. She had two benefits a year,
which swept away all their patronage. On the benefit nights of other
performers, the answer of the " highest world" was, — ff You know we
must go on Mrs. Siddons's night, and then we leave town immediately."
When she did not play, no person of ton would be present ; and when
she did, it was the etiquette for all who professed taste, to run away the
moment the performance was over ! We are afraid all the coxcombry of
the world was not reserved for the present age.

Mr. Boaden's observations on his heroine's debut also shews us that in
some things we have refined on our ancestors. She was not much
puffed previously. The affair was not dandled with the dexterity so fa-
miliar to our time. All was cold ; the " first authorities," even those
admitted behind the scenes, were unprepared writh anything more
predisposing than — "I think she is clever." — " One thing I can
tell you, she is like nothing you have been used to." — " Her laugh
is good, but then she is, or seems to be, very nervous — we shall see ;"
concluding with that humblest of all assumptions — "I am sure we
want something." Mrs. Inchbald's account is, "that she came to town
with no report in her favour to elevate her above a very moderate
salary (four pounds), or to attract more than a very moderate house
when she appeared. But here all moderation stopped. She at once
displayed such consummate art, with such bewitching nature, such
excellent sense, and such innocent simplicity, that her auditors were
boundless in their plaudits, and so warm in her praises when they
left the theatre, that their friends at home would not give credit to their
eulogiums." This was Mrs. Jordan in the " Country Girl." — a per-
formance which we confess that we have never seen without disgust, as
a vulgar exhibition of the most vulgar of all hoydens, an exaggeration
of a she clown engrafted upon a she rake. Yet Mrs. Jordan's powers
certainly made it popular, and, so far as a mere evidence of powers,
nothing can be more decisive. Her display in male attire in the latter
part of the play, however, greatly added to her success, for her figure
at that period was beautiful. Mr. Boaden tells us that the "great
painter of the age (Sir Joshua of course), pronounced it the neatest and
most perfect in symmetry he had ever seen." Her face was expressive,
bnt at no time handsome. Still the portrait in the front of the volume
is, even of that face, a caricature.

We have then a few lines on Sheridan's theatre, descriptive enough.
He had the two wonders of the day — Siddons and Jordan — but his
intolerable negligence suffered them both to weary the town with repe-
titions of their characters. " He would undertake every thing and do
nothing. There was a committee of proprietors who attended only to

]83L] Mrs. Jordan and her Biographer. 57'

the economy of the wardrobe, and they could not be tempted by all the
eloquence of Tom King (the manager) to venture on the smallest outlay
without the consent of Sheridan, who was always too busy either to give
or refuse it. Thus it was that Harris, at the other house, beat him, with
all the cards absolutely in their hands "

One of the oddities of theatrical life is that all the leading actors origi-
nally mistook their talents. John Kemble began in comedy, and the
delusion lasted with him longer than with most of them ; for, to his
dying day, he thought he could flourish in Charles Surface. Jones, the
gayest of actors, and whose absence from the stage has left it sombre,
began in the most formal tragedy ; Listen played Othellos and Julius
Ccesars ; and Fawcett is here recorded as having began with Romeo — a
character which, when we recollect Fawcett's granite physiognomy,
must have been one of the miracles of love-making. Fawcett's voice,
which Colman compared, with the happiest accuracy, to something
generated between the grinding of a corn-mill and the sharpening of a
saw, must have been an incomparable illustration of

" How silver sweet are lovers' tongues by night !
Like softest music to attending ears."

But, after his Romeo exhibition, he was brought to his natural line by
Miss Farren ; to whose Violante he played Colonel Britton, and had the
felicity of being pronounced, by that fashionable authority, tf a very pro-
mising young actor." Peeping Tom decided his forte, and the Hull
audience gave their fiat to the comedian, if Peeping Tom, the most
vulgar of grotesques, could entitle him to such fame, and Fawcett flew,
on the breath of country applause, up to London.

We then have a sketch of one of those only sure events in the History
of Theatres, a conflagration.

" I was coming across the Park, from Pimlico, on the night of the 17th
of June, when, on turning the corner of the Queen's house, this dreadful
conflagration burst upon my eye. It seemed as if the long lines of
trees in the Mall were waving in an atmosphere of flame. The fire ap-
pears to have commenced in the roof, and its demonstration to have
commenced rather earlier than the incendiary had calculated. The
dancers had been rehearsing a ballet on the stage that evening, and sparks
of fire fell upon their heads, as, in great terror, they effected their escape.
Madame Ravelli was with difficulty saved by a fireman. Madame Gui-
mard lost a slipper ; but her feet, as they ever did, saved her.

" There never was the least doubt that the malignity of some foreign
miscreant had effected the destruction. The whole roof was in combus-
tion at one moment ; a cloud of heavy smoke, for a few seconds, hung
over the building, succeeded by a volume of flames, so fierce that they
were felt in St. James's Square, and so bright that you might have read
by them as at noon-day. A very excellent artist, who had been many
years connected with the Opera House, told me, that Came vale, upon
his death-bed, revealed the name of the incendiary. As was customary
in those days, the Bridewell boys served their great engine, with the
vigour of youth, and the sagacity of veterans. Burke might have come
out of Carltori House ; he was standing before it, and anxiously directing
the attention of the fireman to its preservation. Mr. Vanbrugh, a de-
scendant of Sir John, was in the greatest peril of all the sufferers ; he
had an annuity of eight hundred pounds upon the building. At the
back of the ruins, the fire was burning fiercely, though low, at twelve
o'clock the next day. The books of the theatre were saved, so was the
M.M. New Series — VOL. XI. No. 61. I

58 Mrs. Jordan and her Biographer. ^JAN.

chest, in which there were about eight hundred pounds, and this was
nearly all that was preserved. Never was devastation more complete.
However, Novosielsky erected on its site, a theatre really suited to its
object, admirably calculated for sound; and afforded a magnificent refuge
to the Drury-lane Company : which, perhaps, disposed both our ma-
nagers to erect playhouses which were fit for nothing but Operas."

Why did Mr. Carnevale reveal the name of the incendiary ? or did he
manage the office himself? The present King's Theatre has had a mar-
vellous longevity, and half-a-dozen still more marvellous escapes from
fire in its time.

One of Mrs. Siddons's sentiments on the difference between a town
and a country audience is remarkable, besides being strikingly expressed.
We should have thought the country audiences not quite so fastidious.

" Acting Isabella, for instance, out of London, is double thefaiigiie.
There the long and loud applause at the great points and striking situa-
tions invigorate the system ; the time it occupies recruits the breath and
nerve. A cold, respectful, hard audience chills and deadens an actress,
and throws her back upon herself; while the warmth of approbation
confirms her in the character, and she kindles with the enthusiasm she
feels around her."

It is a misfortune to the readers of this Memoir, as it was an infinite
one to the unhappy subject of it, that she seems to have been educated
with no sense whatever of that which has been called " woman's first
virtue and her last." Her parentage was a bad example. It is not
known whether her mother was ever married, and there seems certainly
that she was not married at the time of her daughter's birth. That
daughter, in the very beginning of her professional life, was charged
with being the mistress of Daly, the Irish manager. She was subse-
quently known on the London stage as the mother of children by Ford,
afterwards one of the police magistrates; and, in 1792, began that royal
connection, which, to the crime and shame of both parties, lasted for
twenty years. It is said — as if that were any palliation — that Mrs. Jor-
dan proposed to Ford to make her his wife, and that only on his refusal
she adopted her alternative. But the whole of her conduct was in such
utter carelessness of every pretence to female virtue, that the only way
in which it can be mentioned is with regret that so gross and painful a
topic should ever have been forced again upon the public.

The town expressed great offence at her conduct on this change of
circumstances. She wrote an Amazonian letter to the newspapers,
which produced no effect. Her next appeal was in person to the audi-
ence. They had hissed her in Roxalana. She came to the front of the
stage, and assuring them upon her HONOUR (which the volume gives in
capitals), " that she had never been absent one moment from the stage but
through real indisposition, placed herself under the public protection."
Different as the cause of the displeasure might be, the audience received
the apology ; — the handsome actress was a favorite, she had made a
spirited speech, they were amused by the display, and with the consi-
deration for the morals of the boards, gave her their applause.

Her life henceforth was in a higher sphere. But perhaps there were
few women who could less deserve to be envied, even in the enjoyment
of the luxuries of her situation. By the errors and vices of some of her
connections by her former friends, she was always kept poor, and was
sometimes reduced to very painful difficulties. At length, on the mar-
riage of his royal highness, she necessarily retired, and attempted the stage

1831.] The Last Words of a Moth. 59

for a while in the midst of the vexations of decaying powers and de-
clining health. She finally went to France to escape some of those em-
barrassments which appear to have strangely gathered on her, notwith-
standing the liberal allowance from the purse of the royal duke, which
he with great punctuality paid to the last. She died at St. Cloud, nervous
and wretched, and alone, which she ought not to have been, while she
had either a Son or Daughter in existence ! There is no effort which the
natural affection and duty of children to a Mother, let her be what she
might, should not have been made, to soothe the dying hour of this un-
happy woman ! But poverty was not added to her evils, for, besides a
sum of money, she had on her finger at the time of her death a diamond
ring, worth £400. But the sooner the subject is sunk in oblivion the
better. The name had passed away, and it ought to have slept for ever.

THE LAST WORDS OF A MOTH.

I BURN — I die — I cannot fly —

Too late, and all in vain !
The glow — the light — charmed sense and sight —

Now nought is left but pain !
That wicked flame, no pencil's aim,

No pen can e'er depict on paper;
My waltz embraced that taper waist,

Till I am wasted like a taper.

Worthy the brightest hours of Greece

Was that pure fire, or so / felt it ;
Its feeder towered in stedfast peace,

While I believed for me it melted.
No use in heighos ! or alacks !

My cure is past the power of money ;
Too sure that form of virgin wax

Retained the bee's sting with the honey.

Its eye was blue, its head was cold,

Its round neck white as lilied chalice;
In short, a thing of faultless mould,

Fit for a maiden empress' palace.
So round and round — I knew no better —

I fluttered, nearer to the heat ;
Methought I saw an offered letter —

Now I but see my winding-sheet !

Some pearly drops fell, as for grief —

Oh, sad delusion ! — ah, poor Moth !
I caused them not ; 'twas but a thief

Had got within, to wrong us both. f.
Now I am left quite in the dark,

The light's gone out that caused my pain ;
Let my last gaze be on that spark —

Kind breezes, blow it in again !

Then snuff it well, when once rekindled,

Whoe'er about its brilliance lingers,
But though 'twere to one flicker dwindled,

Be careful, or you'll burn your fingers.
It sought not me ; and though I die,

On such bright cause I'll cast no scandal—
I fled to one who could not fly —

Then blame the Moth— but not the Candle ! I. H.

I 2

[ 60 ] QJAN.

MISMANAGEMENT OF THE COLONIES JAMAICA, &C.*

IT would seem to be a very proper conclusion, that the government
of a country which stands pre-eminent as a colonial power would, at all
times, be anxious to maintain that pre-eminence by just and wise
colonial laws and regulations, not founded upon theory, but practically
adapted to the actual wants of each particular colony, so that the colonists
might feel satisfied that their enterprise and industry were fostered and
protected by the parent state, and that they might assuredly calculate
upon ultimately enjoying the fruits of their labours.

A strong feeling of this kind undoubtedly existed at the peace of 1815 ;
and, accordingly, when Great Britain thought proper to retain many of
the conquests made during the war, extensive capital was directed
towards their cultivation, and, at the same time, the people of the old
colonies naturally enough expected that their priority of settlement, and
long tried attachment to the mother country, would entitle them to addi-
tional indulgence, or, at least, that their local experience would not be
derided, nor their just privileges be borne down and contemned.

Unfortunately, however, a policy the reverse of what might have been
expected has been adopted ; and the consequences are visible in the
decrease of capital and decay of industry in the old colonies, accompanied
by irritation, dissatisfaction, and discontent in all ; and it is evident that,
unless a very different policy be speedily adopted, the entire ruin of
our West India possessions, or their " emancipation" from the control
of the mother country, must be the inevitable consequence. In either
case we shall, in the downfal of our naval supremacy, the decay of our
manufactures, and in great financial difficulties, find ample cause to
regret the unhappy consequences of our mistaken policy.

To enter fully into a discussion of colonial grievances would occupy
more space than we can at present devote to the subject. We gave a
general view of it in our Number for February, and have occasionally
since then adverted to particular points of the case.

Our readers are aware of the opposition which the legislature of
Jamaica have repeatedly experienced in establishing a law to regulate
and ameliorate the condition of the slave population of that island.
Anxious to comply with the spirit of the regulations of parliament of
1823, they have repeatedly made enactments approximating as nearly
to the complete fulfilment of the wishes of the government at home,
as they considered consistent with the safety of their persons and pro-
perty ; but as they found it absolutely necessary to check the dangerous
and deteriorating machinations of the Wesley an s and other sectaries, to
whose domination they do not choose to submit, their humane regula-
tions have been rejected at home ; and, in violation of legislative rights,
conferred by express act of parliament, his Majesty's representatives
have been ordered not to sanction the passing of any bill, unless it be
framed in direct compliance with the dictum of ministers at home !

We need only instance, in proof of this, the disallowance of the Act
passed by the Assembly of Jamaica in 1826, which had met the express
approbation of his Grace the Duke of Manchester, Governor of the
Island ; and which conferred on the slave population many privileges
to which they were not previously entitled by law : and the recent Act,
viz. that passed in December 1829, which, in the words of the Earl of
Belmore, the present Governor, who approved of it, was upon the whole
more favour able to the Slave than that of 1826 ; also peremptorily rejected
at" home !

This Act, amongst a multiplicity of other humane regulations, provides

»; Parliamentary Paper. Sess. 1030.

1831.] .Mismanagement of the Colonies — Jamaica, fyc. 61

" that all owners, proprietors,, and possessors, or, in their absence, the ma-
nagers or overseers of slaves, shall, as much as in them lies, endeavour to
promote the instruction of their slaves in the principles of the Christian
religion, thereby to facilitate their conversion, and shall do their utmost
endeavours to fit them for baptism, and cause to be baptized all such as
they can make sensible of a duty to God and the Christian faith ; which
ceremony the clergymen of the respective parishes are to perform when
required, without fee or reward." " Any Slave or Slaves, who is or has
been baptized, who may be desirous of entering into the holy state of
matrimony, to apply to any clergyman of the Established Church to so-
emnize such marriage, who is hereby required to perform the same
without fee or reward" &c.

No Sunday markets after 11 o'clock, under a penalty of 51. from free
persons, and forfeiture of the goods exposed by Slaves.

" Slaves to be allowed one day in every fortnight, besides holidays,
to cultivate their grounds ;" and whereas it may happen, that on some
plantations, &c. there may not be lands proper for the cultivation of
provisions, or where, by reason of long continuance of dry weather, the
Negro grounds may be rendered unproductive, then, and in that case,
the masters, &c. do, by some other ways and means, make good and
ample provision for all such slaves as they shall be possessed of * *
in order that they may be properly supported and maintained, under a
penalty of £50.

" Every master, &c. shall, once in every year, provide and give to
each slave they shall be possessed of, proper and sufficient clothing, to be
approved of by the justices, &c. under a heavy penalty ; and shall be
obliged upon oath, under forfeiture of £100. to give an account of the
clothing so furnished ; and that the Negroes have had sufficient provi-
sions, according to the regulation thus established/'

By another clause, no Slave's property can be taken from him by his
master or any other person, and the same clause enumerates " horses,
mares, mules, asses, cattle, sheep, hogs, and goats," as a part of such
property usually held by Slaves.

" Any pecuniary bequest or legacy of a chattel to a slave shall be
deemed and considered to be a legal and valid bequest or legacy;" and
the executor or executors are bound to pay it.

Females with six children are exempt from hard labour in the field or
otherwise.

Slaves who by reason of age, infirmity, or sickness, are unfit for la-
bour, cannot be turned off, but must be properly taken care of by their
master ; or, if manumitted, he is bound to allow them ten pounds per
annum for their support.

Every field-slave shall on work-days be allowed half an hour for
breakfast, and two hours for dinner. No work to be done before Jive in the
morning, or after seven at night, except during time of crop.

Ample provision is carefully and anxiously made for the protection of
slaves against cruel or unjust punishments, the penalties being fine and
imprisonment, and in some cases the manumission of the slaves; as well
as for the regulation of their various interests, the recovery and care of
runaways, the regulation of workhouses, &c. — " If any negro or other
person taken to the workhouse as a runaway, shall allege himself or her-
self to be free, a special sessions shall be held, carefully to investigate
the case; and if it shall appear that such person is free, he shall be forth-
with discharged." In short, by a variety of clauses the property and
person of the slave is Carefully provided for; and in order to prevent any

62 Mismanagement of the Colonies — Jamaica, fyc. [JAN.

dealing in slaves, it is specially provided, that if any person or persons
shall be found travelling about from place to place, exposing or offering
for sale any negro, mulatto, or other slave or slaves, such slaves shall be
taken from him, and sold ; one-half of the price to go to the seizer, the
other to the poor of the parish. — " Obeah or Myal men or women, pre-
tending to have communication with the devil and other evil spirits, and
shall use such pretence in order to excite rebellion or other evil purposes,
shall be severely punished." — " And whereas it has been found that the
practice of ignorant, superstitious, or designing slaves, of attempting to
instruct others, has been attended with the most pernicious consequences,
and even with the loss of life," slaves so teaching, without permission
from their masters and the quarter sessions, are to be punished.

We now come to the clauses which strike more particularly at the in-
fluence arid extensive emoluments of the sectarian preachers ; and we
entreat the particular attention of our readers to these clauses, and to the
reasons assigned as rendering their enactment necessary ; because, it is
owing to them that this humane and liberal bill has been disallowed, and
that the present outcry has been raised against the colonists by the dis-
appointed sectaries. — " And whereas the assembling of slaves and other
persons after dark, at places of meeting for religious purposes, has been
found extremely dangerous, and great facilities are thereby given to the
formation of plots and conspiracies, and the health of the slaves and other
persons has been injured in travelling at late hours in the night ; — from
and after the commencement of this act, all such meetings between sun-
set and sunrise be held and deemed unlawful; and any minister, or
other person professing to be a teacher of religion, MINISTERS OF THE
ESTABLISHED CHURCH EXCEPTED, who shall, contrary to this act, keep
open any place of meeting between sunset and sunrise for the purpose
aforesaid, or permit or suffer any such nightly assembly of slaves therein,
or be present thereat," shall forfeit twenty or not exceeding fifty pounds
for each offence, one-half to the poor, the other to the informer.

It thus appears that no impediment whatever is thrown in the way
of the established clergy, on whose discretion the proprietors in Jamaica
place implicit reliance.

The next clause enacts, that from and after the commencement of the
act, it shall not be lawful/or any person whatsoever to demand or receive
any money or other chattel whatsoever, from any slave or slaves within
this island, for affording such slave or slaves religious instruction, by way
of offering contributions, or under any pretence whatsoever, under a
penalty of twenty pounds, to be applied as above mentioned. It is by
this clause that the methodists and others find themselves cut off from
these comparatively enormous emoluments derived from the poor igno-
rant slaves in exchange for tenpenny tickets, and under various pre-
tences ; and the proprietors justly complain that such contributions were
carried to such an improper extent as to have become the cause of great
poverty and discontent in the slave ; that his improvement was thereby
retarded, his health injured, and his master's work neglected. Not con-
tent with these emoluments the missionaries are said to have, in too
many instances, improperly interfered between master and servant, and,
independently of the calumnious misrepresentations sent home to this
country, began to assume a tone and authority not warranted by their
holy calling, nor compatible with the peace and safety of the planters.

When we look at the state of affairs at Otaheite, and other islands in
the Pacific,* where these men have had their own way, we cannot doubt

* Kotzebuc's Voyage in the Years 1823, 4, 5, and 6.

1831.] Mismanagement of the Colonies — Jamaica, fyc. 63

the propriety of this timely interference to check their indiscreet
zeal.

By the remaining clauses of the bill, slave evidence is to a consider-
able extent admitted, and it only requires to be read attentively to satisfy
every unprejudiced mind, that the assembly of Jamaica are perfectly
desirous of going as far in complying with the wishes of the mother
country as is consistent with their own safety and " the well being of
the slaves themselves/'

" I regret extremely/' says the Earl of Belmore, in transmitting this
bill to Sir George Murray, " that one clause has been left, creating a
more marked and invidious distinction between sectarians and ministers
of the established church, than those which occasioned the rejection of
the act of 1826. However," adds his lordship, " as the bill upon the
whole is certainly more favourable to the slave than that of 1826, I COULD
NOT FEEL MYSELF JUSTIFIED in refusing my assent to it." We would
ask, in reference to the more il marked and invidious distinction" in
this bill, whether the secretaries, by the whole tenor of their conduct
since 1826, have not amply justified — nay compelled the people of Jamai-
ca to make this more marked distinction, and whether they would
not in fact, have been justified in even adopting more severe measures?
Sir George Murray is however of a different opinion, and expresses
displeasure that Lord Belmore assented to this Bill, referring him to
former positive instructions on the subject; and adds, " I can only ex-
press the deep regret which is felt by His Majesty's Government, that
the unfortunate introduction of the clauses to which I have referred
(namely, those last above mentioned), should continue to deprive the
slave population of the many advantages which the wisdom and humanity
of the colonial legislature have proposed to confer upon them ; benefits,
the value of which I do not the less readily acknowledge, though the
Act, in many important respects, falls short of the measures which his
Majesty has introduced into the Colonies, which are subject to this legis-
lative authority in his Privy Council."

In this singular situation the matter rests ; but it must be obvious
to every person, of common understanding, that not only the welfare
of the Slave (in so far, at least, as that may depend upon legis-
lative enactments), but also that the feelings of the whole community of
one of our oldest and most influential colonies have been egregiously out-
raged, and their discontents augmented, by endeavours to force upon
them unsuitable and unpalatable theories of religious toleration.

The legislative measures which have been forced upon the Crown
Colonies have also produced much opposition and discontent ; we fear
they will continue, generally speaking, to be productive of more harm
than good. The official document before us shews ample proof, that at
least in one of the new colonies — viz. Mauritius, these measures have
been met by general opposition, and open remonstrance.

What is at this moment passing in every part of the world, may ulti-
mately involve this country in very serious difficulties, and should lead
practical statesmen to a serious consideration, not only of the prudence
and necessity of conciliating all classes of people in the empire ; but also
of concentrating the energies of the country so that we may be ready to
await, with confidence in our own strength and resources, the approach
of any struggle that we may be forced to encounter. How that can be
done by obstinately adhering to our present colonial policy is, in our
opinion, beyond the comprehension of any sober-minded person in the
United Kingdom.

[ 64 ] [JAN.

THE EPITAPH OF 1830.

HERE lie, although shorn of their rays,

In the family-vault of old Time,
Three hundred and sixty -five days

Of folly, pride, glory, and crime.
You may mourn o'er their miseries still,

You may dance o'er their desolate bier ;
You may laugh, you may weep, as you will —

Eighteen-Hundred-and-Thirty lies here !

It brought us some good on its wings,

Much ill has it taken away ;
For it gave us the best of Sea-Kings,

And darkened the Conqueror's day.
It narrowed Corruption's dominion,

And crushed Aristocracy's starch,
Gave nerve to that giant, Opinion,

And spurred up old Mind on his march.

It drew a new line for Court-morals,

Laid hands on the Pensioner's treasure,
And told us — we'll crown it with laurels —

Reform is a Cabinet-measure.
It brought, to the joy of each varlet,

Both sides of a coat into play ;
For it stripped off the faded old Scarlet,

And turned the court-livery Grey !

It set all the Sycophants sighing,

And taught them to blush and look shy ;
It made, though unfitted for flying,

Proh pudor ! a Marchioness fly.
How many it found looking big,

Till it plucked out the feathers they wore !
On the woolsack it placed such a Whig

As had ne'er graced the woolsack before.

It brought Captain Swing in a flame,

With his wild ghme of fright to our cost :
While, skilled in a different game,

Surgeon Long played a rubber — and lost.
It gratified Hunt in his thirst

To sit as a patriot member;
And it brought us back April the First,

When we thought it the Ninth of November.

And oh ! it made Freedom the Fashion

In France — who can ne'er have too much,
And who put all the rest in a passion —

The Russians, Poles, Belgians, and Dutch !
Let this be the end of its story :

May the Year that now breaks o'er its tomb,
Have a gleam or two more of its glory,

A shade or two less of its gloom !

B.

1831. J [ 65 ]

NOTES OF THE MONTH ON AFFAIRS IN GENERAL.

A short time will shew whether the government are sincere in their
promises of economy: those promises which have been so often broken,
but which now must be and shall be kept, whoever may be minister. We
are willing to give Lord Grey credit for his intentions, and all will go on
well, if he shall realize them by vigorous performance. We agree per-
fectly with the observations of the ' ' Times " on the subject. After
mentioning that the salary of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland has been
reduced by government from £30,000 to £20,000, — that is to say, has
been docked of one part in three, a reduction which it is only justice to
the Duke of Northumberland to say, had been in some degree anticipated
by himself, he having given up £7>000 a-year — it proceeds to observe :
" We do not say that this ratio, which is applicable only to salaries of
very high amount, should be adopted in all ; but that the principle of
diminution should be carried into effect is highly necessary ; and, above
all, it was most gratifying to be assured by such a man as Lord Althorp,
in the name of the government, that ' all places, whether high or low,
were to be abolished which were held by individuals performing no
duties.' For our own parts, in looking over those pension lists which
have been recently brought to light, we cannot help thinking, that if
substantial justice were dealt out to the parties therein, it appears, en-
joying pensions, nine- tenths of them ought to be sent to the tread-mill
for the plunder they have committed, and were intending to commit,
upon the public purse." The truth is, that the nation will tolerate those
plunderings no longer Mr. Horace Twiss tells us, to " pause before
we plunge noble families into distress !" But we say, if noble families
are to keep their nobility only by living on the public, perish their
nobility ! What right have they to any rank above other paupers ?
What claim have the Lady Bettys and Jennies of any titled beggar to
the money wrung from the labours and necessities of the industrious and
now deeply depressed people ? If they think carriages and fine clothes,
titles and fine houses essential to their existence, let them pay for them
out of their own purses ; if they cannot pay for them, what right have
they to them ? or what right have they to make the people pay for them ?
The whole affair is a gross insult to common sense; and those silken
creatures, and their dandy brothers, aetherial and exquisite as they may
be, must do like others, earn their bread by honest industry, or have no
bread to eat. We have not time now to enter into that national insult
— the Pension List ! We shall return to it before long. But we warn
Lord Grey that, upon the candour and strict sincerity of his conduct in
extinguishing every sinecure, and cutting off every shilling, unearned by
distinct and plain public services, and that immediately, the continuance
of his administration must altogether depend. We must have no more
noble paupers. If they are paupers let them descend from their fictitious
rank, and learn the duties of their true station in society. They will
gain a great deal by the change, in point of usefulness, lose nothing in
point of real dignity — for what can be so degrading as to live on the
charity of the public ? — and probably gain much in point of real comfort,
for what bread is more destitute of comfort than the bread of idleness,
even if it were eaten by the sons and daughters of a Duke ?

But the affair will not, and cannot, be borne any longer. The House
of Commons have already taken it up, and on the sincerity with which

M.M. New Series—Voi.. XI. No. 61. K

tJfi Notes of the Month OH [JAN.

ministers do their duty in this point, will depend their existence for six
months to come. In the debate, on the 23d of December, " Mr. Guest
moved that there be laid before the House the warrant, dated 5th Janu-
ary, 1823, by which a pension of £1.200 per annum was granted to Mrs.
Harriett Arbuthnot. He conceived that the pension granted to Mrs.
Arbuthnot could not be defended. The next pension to which he should
call the attention of the House was that granted to Lady Hill, of £467 12s.,
which made the total received by Sir George Hill and his lady amount
to ±'7,347 a-year. A pension was granted to Earl Minto in April, 1800,
of £938 8s. 9d., from which he had since received above £30,000— he
(Mr. G.) was ignorant for what public services. The pensions granted
to the family of the Grcnvilles were particularly deserving attention. Mr.
C. Grenville, as Comptroller of Cash in the Excise, was in receipt of
£600 per annum ; he was allowed moreover £600 a-year as Receiver-
General of Taxes at Nottingham, and had also £350 a-year as Secretary
of the Island of Tobago. It was plain that some of these offices, if not
all of them, must be sinecures. There were several pensions granted to
the Cockburn family. The first bore date 1798, for £184 granted to Jean
Cockburn. Three other members of the family had pensions of £97
each, granted in 1791. There was also in the document laid on the
table, a pension to Mary Penelope Bankhead, in October, 1825, for
£350 7s. 5d. What were the services for which such a pension was
granted ? The Countess of Mornington was in receipt of a pension of
£600 a-year since 1813. He concluded by declaring, that whenever
pensions were to be voted and placed on the civil list, which were not
granted for some services performed to the State, he should feel it his
duty, even if he stood alone, to vote against such fgrants. He thought
members of that House obtaining pensions for any members of their
family, especially for their wives, virtually vacated their seats. — Mr.
Alderman Waithman said that there were pensions granted to Jive persons
of the members of the family of Lord Bathurst, although that nobleman
had been long in office, holding two sinecure places, and receiving twelve
thousand a-year. — Mr. Courtenay said Lord Bathurst was appointed to
one of his offices by his father, when Lord Chancellor !"

Mr. Courtenay's excuse only aggravates the evil. It is the baseness of
providing, as it is called, for their families by lordly knaves, or impudent
beggars, that makes one of the grand sources of public plunder. Why
should not the Lord Chancellor Bathurst have provided for his son,
without feeding him out of the pockets of the people? We have those Bath-
ursts, a family absolutely undistinguished by any kind of talent, or any
kind of public service, placemen and pensioners for the last eighty years !
How many tens of thousands of pounds have those persons drawn from,
the industry of the people in that time, that they forsooth might ride
in their coaches and call themselves noble ! How long ago would they
have been compelled to walk a foot, and perhaps take to some manual
trade, if they had not been thus fed. There must be an end, and a
speedy end of all this.

The confessions of the Polignac ministers give a striking illustration
of the old maxim of Oxenstiern. Three fourths of the public wisdom
of the highest ranks are folly. In France the other fourth was a guilty
love of place. Every one of the ministers seems to have perfectly known
that he was acting contrary to his duty as an honest man. But then,
" he must obey his king," which means in all instances, tc he must
keep his place." If any one of those men had listened to the common

1 83 J.] Affairs in General. 67

dictates of conscience, he would have refused to join in the criminal
measure, but then he must have resigned ; which seems to be an im-
possibility, so far as it depends on the individual. The French minis-
ters might have been turned out by their master ; but the idea of turn-
ing themselves out, merely because conscience remonstrated against their
staying in, was evidently a matter not to be thought of. Thus we find
Peyronnet, Chantelauze, and the rest, with the single exception of
Polignac, (and he refuses, apparently that he may not be obliged to
name the king as the criminal,) profuse in their declarations, that they
disapproved, foresaw, reprobated, regretted, and so forth ; which hav-
ing done, they set about bringing the criminal matter into shape ; and
put it into action : the alternative being, that if they did not share the
guilt, they must lose their places, a sacrifice totally out of the question.

Marmont was exactly in the same condition. Arago, a member of the
Institute, gives us a curious view of Marmont's feelings. He says —
" On Monday the 26th of July, the day on which the fatal ordinances
were published, the marshal came to the Institute, and seeing how
greatly I was affected by the perusal of the Moniteur, he said, ' Well !
you see that the fools have pushed things on to extremities, just as I told
you. At least, you will only have to lament such measures as a citizen
and a good Frenchman ; but how much more am I to be pitied, — I who,
as a soldier, shall be obliged to get my head broken in the support of
acts that I abhor, and of persons who have long seemed determined to
give me as much annoyance as possible ?' " The idea of giving up his
employments, was too horrid for his susceptibility. We are to recollect
that Marmont was not simply a marshal, but a peer of France, and
therefore entitled to a deliberative opinion. Though even as a marshal
he had a right to refuse a service which he knew to be that of crime and
massacre. For whatever may be the necessary submission of the private
soldier, it is not to be supposed with common sense, that the conduct of
a commander-in-chief is not to be regulated with reference to his per-
sonal sense of justice. But the marshal, so delicate towards his king,
plunged himself headlong into civil blood ; laid thousands dead for a
punctilio, and now expects commiseration. He has found his reward
in exile ; and can be now remembered only as a warning to men in his
rank, that conscience is not to be insulted, and that there is nothing more
short- sighted than a base love of power.

The last accounts from Paris state the sentence of the ex-ministers,
Polignac, Peyronnet, Chantelauze, and Ranville. Omitting the mere
technicalities, it is as follows :

" SENTENCE. — ' The Court of Peers having heard the commissioners of the
Chamber of Deputies in their arguments and conclusions, and the accused in
their defence :

" ' Condemns Prince de Polignac to perpetual imprisonment in the conti-
nental territory of the kingdom; declares him deprived of his title, dignities,
and orders ; declares him civilly dead.

" ' Condemns Count de Peyronnet, Victor de Chantelauze, and Count
Guernon de Ranville, to perpetual imprisonment; and declares them also
deprived of their titles, dignities, and orders.

" ( Condemns the Prince de Polignac, Count Peyronnet, Victor de Chan-
telauze, and Count Guernon de Ranville personally and jointly in the costs of
the proceedings.' "

The populace received the account of this proceeding with great re-
sentment, and collected in multitudes demanding the blood of the
prisoners. But the national guard repelled them without violence, and

K 2

68 \utes of the Month on [_JAN.

the king riding through Paris after dusk on the same evening, and using
all his good sense to conciliate the people, succeeded for the time.

When the question of the fatal year 1829 was before the legislature,
the friends of Christianity and the constitution exclaimed to the wretched
and apostate ministry, " Can you possibly be blind to the immediate
consequences of the guilty measure that you are now supporting ? You
surrender to clamour what could never have had a claim in reason, and
to make the mischief still surer, you actually profess to surrender it to
clamour. You declare, that you give Catholic emancipation to quell the
agitation of Ireland, that you give it through fear of violences, that the
time is come when it can be delayed no longer." The guilty measure
was accomplished, and now what is the language of the Irish agitators ?
Demanding a measure which will create civil war, destroy Protestantism
in Ireland, make Protestant property not worth a shilling, and turn the
whole population of Ireland into the slaves of a Roman Catholic faction ,
and which will be carried ! " Agitate more and more, my boys ; for the
more you agitate the more you will get, and by agitation you will get as
much as you please." This is the language of popery now.

Every man of common sense in England exclaimed, that the first
popish triumph over the Protestant constitution would be followed by a
second, or by a hundred, until there was a complete dismemberment of the
empire. The Union will be repealed. A parliament entirely popish will
be chosen ; feelings utterly hostile to England and Protestantism will be
the very breath and life of that parliament. England will resist the con-
spiracy. The resistance will be met by force. Allies for Ireland will be
sought among the popish powers of the continent. France will declare
the principle of non-intervention as in the case of the Netherlands.
Spanish and French gold and troops will be ready on the first emer-
gency. The money of all popish Europe, of every province, and every
Driest owing allegiance to popery, will be poured in to sustain what they
will proclaim a persecution on the part of England, and a crusade on
heir own ; and the British empire will, if not undone, be a theatre of
blood and flame. And this was openly predicted, and will be fully borne
out by the inevitable results of the guilty measure. We have at this
moment Mr. O'Connell actually turning by his presence the Irish govern-
ment into a cypher, and detailing to the maddened populace, views,
whose expression astonishes us equally at the supineness of law, and the
daring defiance of the speaker. On his arrival in Dublin a week since,
he was received by all "the trades" in marching order, with banners and
emblems ; and a concourse of all the populace, never equalled, as we are
told, but on the entrance of the late king.

" About six o'clock the procession reached Mr. O'Connell's house in Mer-
rion-square ; and he addressed the assembled multitude, which amounted to
not less than 50,000, from the balcony. After assuring1 them that they would
certainly achieve the repeal of the Union, he concluded as follows: — 'France
waded to liberty through blood — the Poles are wading to liberty through blood —
but mark me, my friends, the shedding- of one drop of blood in Ireland would
effectually destroy all chance of repealing the Union. I wear round my neck
the medal of the Order of Liberators, suspended from a riband of orange and
green. I press the Orange to my lips— I press it to my heart. I have abused
the Orangemen — on my knees, in the presence of God — I beg their pardon/
Great part of the City was illuminated, and bonfires blazed in various places."

This is but a fragment of a speech filled with the bitterest gall against
all that we revere. But what are we to think of his wily appeals to the
French and Flemish revolutions ? " They both waded to liberty through

Jh31.] Affairs in General. 09

blood." And of course this example is not to be followed by the Irish,
if England should refuse to give way. No, the agitator, who rode
through the country creating an Order of Liberators, has no idea that
blood can ever be in the thoughts of he, who deprecates all force. Doubt-
less he would seriously deprecate his own seizure by an attorney-general.
And so far as words go, he will study innocence. But how did the popu-
lace understand the speech ? Why was the example of civil blood
quoted ? why were the populace told that blood was in other countries
the price of liberty ?

He has since repeated the topic at one of those public meetings which
are in direct defiance of the law, according to every conception of right
reason. With 2,000 people for his hearers at the tavern, he tells them
that " the repeal of the Union is a question of life and death, combining
within itself the existence of our country as a nation — involving at once
the charities of public and private life, the support of our labouring poor,
and the employment of our wretched artizaris ; it is one so great, so vast,
and so important, that in it (it cannot be wondered at) all others should,
for a time, be absorbed." He then tells them that he has no hope in the
ministry :

"As to Earl Grey, I declare that I have not the least confidence in him.
He was a democrat in early life— he became a lord, God know how or in
what Whig revolution, and he now begins to talk of ' his order/ [[hear,
hear !] He will be obliged to do something for England — he must do some-
thing for Scotland — and with respect to Ireland, what does he do ? — he
threatens us with Proclamations and Algerine Acts. Earl Grey, I defy you !"
[[cheers. 3

What is to be done by a nation with a ministry who sends them nothing
but acts fit for Algerine tyrants to send ? The populace are left to draw
their own conclusion. The populace are then summoned to an universal
call for parliamentary reform and voting by ballot. How much does the
orator care for the purity of the English constitution ? But whatever
may be his objects, he tells them now is their time.

" Let it be done now ; England is rocking to its centre ; the sound of the
approaching hurricane can he already heard ; the ground is trembling under
their feet ; the volcano is about to burst beneath them ; the storm that has
been raised by the intelligent mass of the English people is about to sweep
over them. Where is the ' master-spirit' to rule that storm? That master-
spirit is not Lord Grey, who, at such a crisis, could have the folly to threaten
us with Proclamations and Algerine Acts." [[cheers.]]
He then prohibits the spilling of blood :

" In the struggle which our country is about to make for freedom, neither
force nor violence shall be used/'

Of course, the people, with all their Catholic emancipation, are still
slaves, and have still to make a national struggle for freedom, which is not,
like the " glorious struggles" of France and Belgium for freedom, to be
one of blood.

The people are then directed not to form conspiracies for the purpose
of the repeal, that " question of death and life," that giver of wealth to
the poor, and of freedom to every body.

<f People of Ireland, hear me ; let not any possibility induce you to be
guilty of violence, or to shed one drop of blood ; let not secret societies exist
amongst you — have nought to do with them, as you are anxious for a repeal
of the Union. No man who loves Ireland will join in a secret society. [Tiearl^
Secret societies ! I excommunicate you from amongst Irishmen — I proclaim
here, that the man who belongs to one is an enemy to me and to Ireland."
[[cheers.]]

In all which points \ve must take the orator's word for his sincerity.

70 Notes of the Month on QJAN.

One thing at least is tolerably clear, that if the populace knew nothing
of " secret societies" before, as a contrivance to carry their freedom, they
have heard a good deal now. But who can be blind to the nature of
the whole proceeding ? We honour the Field Marshal's sagacity too
much to doubt that he sees the affair in its true point of view, and is at
this moment turning his mighty mind to anew march to Downing-street.
To be sure he has a second time declared, that he would be " mad to be
a minister." But if he " should find the safety of the empire depending
on his leaving his beloved retirement, he is, doubtless, too much a patriot
to prefer his leisure to £14,000 a-year and the whole patronage of the
realm. He will be delighted to shew how fearlessly he can encounter
insanity again, and be mad to be minister a second, or a twentieth time.

The age of spells may .have passed away in other matters, but it un-
doubtedly survives in every thing connected with theatres. All the
speculators fail ; yet when is a speculator wanting ? There have been
but two within memory who have realized a shilling by theatres. One
of those was the late Lewis, who carried off twenty thousand pounds,
chiefly made by a long professional life ; but carried it off only by selling
out of Covent Garden as soon as he could get a purchaser. The other
was old Harris, who, however, after making a fortune, was rash enough
to hazard it all again in the new Covent Garden, and lost it all. The
Opera House regularly ruins a manager every two years, and has accom-
plished its work without fail in all instances, from Handel downwards.
Sheridan, Elliston, and Price are the modern exhibitors in the Drury
Lane calendar. Covent Garden has dragged down every body with the
same impartial activity. The Dublin theatre has effected the ruin of its
managers time out of mind. It has now added another to the list. In
the Insolvent Debtors' Court, Dublin, on Saturday, Mr. Bunn, the late
lessee of the Hawkin's-street Theatre in that city, was brought up on his
petition, and, some explanation having been entered into, the chief com-
missioner declared that Mr. Bunri had conducted the theatre in a fair and
honourable manner, and he was therefore discharged from the claims of
his creditors. A Mr. Calcraft, an actor, has taken the theatre, and we
only hope he will not follow the fates of his predecessors. Yet if he
should, he will be certain to have half a dozen followers in every sense
of the word. The reason is undiscoverable by us, and we must leave it
to the curious in human eccentricity.

The performances at the winter theatres, however, are improving. Peake's
Chancery Suit at Covent Garden, which rather shews that he is capable
of something above farce, than^that he has yet accomplished it, has re-
commenced. Abbot having recovered his legs, has supplanted Mr.
Bennet, who has been so often triumphant in the " Freyschutz," that he
seems perpetually carrying on a physiognomical dialogue with Lucifer.
He is certainly a very formidable lover. Abbot can at least smile, which
luckily goes a great way with the ladies, for Mr. Peake has certainly
not indulged him with any fascination in the way of eloquence. But
there is a vigour about the comedy which does promise well. The cha-
racters of the country squire and the old servant are both disagreeable
specimens of human nature. But they may have their originals, and
they are, at least, not the wearisome copies of the clown and the dotard
that so constantly encumber our stage. They are well performed, almost
too well, by Bartley and Blan chard.

But a vocal debutante, with the provincial name of Inverarity, has
greatly added to the popular attractions of this theatre. Expectation

1831.] Affair* in General. 71

was considerably alive to the appearance of a substitute for Miss Paton,
and it was fully answered. Her debut was one of the most successful
witnessed for many years. She has a fine, clear, and flexible soprano
voice, of an extensive compass, and the articulation of her notes is
remarkably distinct. Her musical education has evidently been formed
in the Italian school, though we understand her studies were completed
in Scotland. With the advantages of a fine voice, and considerable
powers of execution, Miss Inverarity possesses those of a handsome
figure and an agreeable countenance. Her motions and gestures were
deficient in ease, but this was probably occasioned by the embarrassment
of a first appearance.

There is often a singular contradiction between the speeches and the
actions of governments. All the Continental powers are declaring that
nothing was ever so complete as their amity, yet all are raising every
soldier and buying up every horse, musquet and cannon, that they can
lay their hands on. Austria is sending her 120,000 men into Italy.
Prussia is mounting 20,000 cavalry. Russia is moving her half million,
and rousing her wild men and her deserts to the sound of the drum.
France declares in the meekest spirit that she will have 300,000 men on
foot in three months, and will in the mean time continue drilling a mil-
lion and half of national guards. But of all those deprecatory powers,
not one deprecated the idea of stirring a soldier, or burthening herself
with additional expences so much as England. Yet, in the very teeth
of the declaration, we have the following. " The regiments of the line
are about to be filled up to their establishments of 7^0 men per regi-
ment, which will produce an addition to the army of about 10,000 men.
The increase of vigilance rendered necessary by the aspect of affairs, or
rather the existence of strong excitement at home and abroad, both real
and artificial, is quite sufficient to account for this addition to the dis-
posable force of the country." We confess that this raises our surprise.
We have already an immense standing army, no less than 81,000 men,
besides the whole establishment of ordnance, commissariat, hospitals,
half-pay, invalids, &c. &c. the whole amounting to the revenue of a Con-
tinental kingdom ; and to this we are called on now to add 10,000 men.
No distinct ground has been assigned, but it is hinted that the popular
disturbances and the state of the Continent alike require it. To this we
answer without hesitation that, for the popular -disturbances the true
force is a yeomanry, and that ten regiments of the guards, horse and
foot, would not be as efficacious in putting down the night gatherings of
a populace, as a thousand stout yeomanry cavalry raised in the district.
In the next place we say, that the 10,000 men will be altogether trivial,
on the great scale of European war. The fact is, that our whole mili-
tary system is an error. Our diplomatists and ministers have been of
late years dazzled by the whiskers and epaulettes of the loungers about
the foreign courts, until they are all army mad! But the true force of
England is her FLEET ! an arm in which no foreigner can ever rival her,
which belongs to her almost exclusively, and which, without the uncon-
stitutional and hazardous effect which the presence of a standing army
always produces, does ten times the work at a tenth of the expense.

But we are told, Ireland is to be kept in order. We answer; it was
kept in order before by the militia and yeomanry, safe forces, which
costing infinitely less than the standing army, are infinitely more suited
to the ideas of Englishmen. But we have the West Indies to watch. —
If the negroes are turbulent, there is no force adequate to the service
but a West-Indian militia, which the planters could easily raise, and
which, by being inured to the climate, would outlast twenty of our bat-

72 Notes of the Month on [JAN.

talions. If they are to be defended from an enemy, it must be by a
Fleet. They are always to be fought for by Sea, and the conqueror will
have the islands.

On the continent we can do nothing in competition with the enormous
armies of France, Russia, and Austria on their own ground. The
Peninsula was a case entirely by itself ; and when we shall have such
a case again, we may raise such another army. We shall have time
enough to make our preparations, if we keep the mastery of the Sea !
Yet let us hear.— The Chancellor of the Exchequer, "in the motion
he was about to make, thought the best course he could pursue
was to state the supplies he intended to require, and then to set forth
the ways and means. The vote he required was, on account of the army
£7,450,000, for the navy £5,594,000, for the ordnance £169,500, and
for the miscellaneous expenditure £1,930,000, making in the whole
£16,950,000," out of nearly seventeen millions of money, an astounding
sum at any time ; and above all times, in the midst of peace, we have
here nearly eleven millions for the army ; for, almost the whole, under
the heads of ordnance, miscellaneous services, &c., goes to the army.
And this too, when ministers are declaring on all occasions the principle
of non-intervention ! The additional 10,000 men will cost upwards of
half a million a year, or the interest of about twelve millions sterling !
And yet, for what conceivable purpose ? Is it fright at the rick-burners,
or at the speeches of Mr. O'Connell, or at a rebellion in the moon ? We
long to know the reason, deep as it may be in the cabinet bosom.

The harangues and lectures of the itinerant teachers of law and liberty
are undoubtedly among the chief sources of the present desperate acts of
the peasantry. At the Sussex Assizes we have the thing declared in so
many words :

" The first prisoner was Thomas Goodman, who was convicted for having
set fire to a barn belonging to Mr. Watts, at Battle, on the 3rd of December.
Within one month after this fire, no fewer than eight followed in rapid suc-
cession. The prisoner, on leaving the bar, confessed the justice of his senr
tence. He said that he set fire to the stack with a pipe and common matches.
He also acknowledged to being the incendiary who set fire to some corn stacks
a few days before, and for which a reward had been offered for the discovery
of the offender. He said he was so stirred up by the words of Cobbett that his
brain was nearly turned, and that he was under the impression that nothing
but the destruction of property by fire at night would effect that species of
revolution, the necessity of which was so strongly enforced l)y Mr. Cobbett in his
lecture delivered at Battle. The following are the words of the prisoner, with
reference to Cobbett, as taken down :— e I, Thomas Goodman, never should af
thought of dotting aney sutch thing if Mr. Cobbet had never given aney lactures i
believe that their never would bean aney fires or mob in Battle nor maney other
places if he never had given aney lactures at all."

Cobbett makes, what he thinks a reply to this charge, by saying that
the fires began before he lectured at Battle. He asserts, " that the fires
began in East Kent, where he had not been for years, and extended into
West Kent three months before he delivered his lectures in it; and that
he everywhere used his best endeavours to dissuade the people from
having recourse to violence." But the itinerant does himself serious in-
justice, if he thinks that he can do no mischief where he is not seen.
Do not his lectures spread through the country in all kinds of ways ? Is
not his Register propagated with effect through the counties ? Has he
not desperately denounced property ? We know his " love of order,"
and honour it like his friend, the Irish agitator's.

1831.] Affairs in General 73

Easily dried as our tears are for the Wellington tribe of trimmers, yet
we wish that one of their officers could have been retained,, Lord Low-
ther. What Mr. Agar Ellis may do in his room, can yet only be con-
jecture. But we must give Lord Lowther credit for having done a great
deal for the appearance of the metropolis. The Strand improvements
are admirable ; and if we had any of the old Roman gratitude in us, we
should give some of those improvements his name. Any simple memo-
rial might answer the purpose, and we sincerely think that some record
of the kind ought to remind us of one, who has to the extent of his power
been a public benefactor.

The labour of the office has been greater than those unaccustomed to
such matters would conceive. The commissioners mention that in their
last report they stated that they had purchased, for the purpose of these
improvements, the freehold of one hundred and ninety-eight houses and
buildings, and the interests of leaseholders and occupiers in three hun-
dred and forty -two houses, besides acquiring by exchange six freehold
houses ; and add, they have now to state that they have since pur-
chased two hundred and ^fifty-nine freehold houses and buildings, and
the interests of leaseholders and occupiers in one hundred houses, besides
obtaining by exchange twenty-seven freehold houses. They further
state that they had also agreed for, but not completed, the purchases of
sixteen freehold houses, and leaseholders' and occupiers' interests in
fifty-one houses. And by exchange twenty-seven freehold houses and
one leasehold house. And out of this immense mass of ruins, they have
changed one of the most unsightly and inconvenient streets of London, into
one of the handsomest, so far as their means have gone. A matter of
not less praise is the economy with which this great object has been ac-
complished. Every man, who, for his sins, meddles in building, knows
that it has no equal for expense and delay, or that it finds its only rival
in a Chancery suit. But the Strand buildings have, in the first instance,
been erected with extraordinary expedition, and in the next, at an ex-
traordinarily low rate. This long range of very shewy street has actually
cost the public but £300,000 ! The whole expense of the improvements,
then, in progress, according to an account presented March 1829, was
estimated at £1,147,313 ; but the available or expected means to meet
that expenditure were £852,111. — leaving a deficiency of only £300,000.
To meet that deficiency, and to expedite the completion of the purchases
further required, in addition to the £400,000 (included in the £852,111)
borrowed from the Exchequer Bill Loan Commissioners — the Woods
and Forests' Commissioners borrowed a further sum of £300,000 of the
Equitable Assurance Company, at £3 10*. per cent, per annum, repay-
able by instalments within seventeen years. It is further stated that the
whole sum actually received for the purpose of these improvements, to
the time of making up the accounts, amounted to £962,548, and the
payments made, to £880,254 — and that they believed that the estimate
of March 1829 (£1,147,313) would not be exceeded. We wish that
we could have had the same tale to tell of the Pimlico palace, which
after the expenditure of a million sterling ! is now a tenement only for
the bats and owls ; and which will probably never be inhabited by
royalty. The eternal repairs of Windsor Castle are another drain, which
has sucked in twice the amount of the Strand improvements within these
three years ; and which, so far as the royal residence is concerned,
seems to be much in the same condition with the Pimlico palace. But the

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 61. L

74 Notes of the Month on [JAN.

proverb of the " ill wind" is not without its verification in those mat-
ters. The king, 'tis true, resides in St. James's and the Pavilion. But
the Castle and the Pimlico affair are only the more comfortable habita-
tions for footmen, housekeepers, and stewards, until they shall be applied
as chambers to the convenience of the young widows or dashing dow-
agers of the court. In the mean time they will make pleasant sinecures
for the architects, and thus contribute to the encouragement of the
national genius, and the liberal expenditure of the national guineas.

JEKYLLIANA. — Some one observed, that probably the Russian Em-
peror might be deterred from attacking Poland by the fear of insurrec-
tion in his army.

" Well he may," said the barrister. " It is all over with them all, if
revolt extends from the Poles to the Line."

Long experience has convinced us that of all rare things, the rarest
axe facts, facts of any kind, and from any quarter whatever. Raleigh's
old' contempt for historical facts made him, as all the world knows, throw
his papers into the fire. Horace Walpole was prohibited by his father
from reading history to him, " for you know," said the old politician,
" that it cannot be true." Thus we have been perplexed during the last
month by the theatrical/ad, that Madame Vestris and Miss Foote, had
taken the Olympic Theatre, in partnership ; though it was not declared
how many anonymous partners, with heavier purses than usually fall to
the lot even of female charms, were engaged in the speculation. But it was
stated as afact, that the two fair ones were allied, and were determined
to draw together ; which, to their attractions must be as easy as it might
be difficult for their rivalry ; that the house was to have a new name in
consequence, and be called LA BELLE ALLIANCE; that Braham, Jones,
and all the stars that have withdrawn their light from the great thea-
tres were to form a constellation in the little, and that the back streets
of the Strand were henceforth to be the west end of the theatrical world,
the focus of all theatric fashion, the spot, to which when a nobleman got
into his carriage at St. Stephen's, or at the door of the Clarendon, his
coachman drove by instinct ; a general congress of all wits above ten
thousand a year — all peers under sixty — all noble beauties in their teens,
and all noble mothers with meditations deep in matrimony. To those
facts, the whole tribunal of the London journals would have sworn.
Yet where are they now ?

It was an undeniable fact a week ago, that, Mr. C. Kemble had taken
the Tottenham-street Theatre, at an additional rent of £800 per annum,
for the purpose of putting down the starring system at the minors. The
fact is, however, that it has been let to Mr. Macfarren, on lease for 21
years, at £1,000 a year ; who is at this moment engaged in projecting
extensive alterations and improvements of the building, and who hopes
to re-open about the end of next month, newly decorated, with new
pieces, a new company, formed of the principal talent now in the mar-
ket, and with very superior patronage, of course. What will be the
next fact ?

The Africans are not celebrated for their brains, yet they have a touch
of acuteness, that sometimes serves them just as well. The European
kings send the Emperor of Morocco envoys and consuls. The Em-
peror of Morocco never returns any thing of the kind. He sends back

1831.] A flairs in General. 75

birds and beasts in exchange. A large cargo of those effective royal re-
presentatives,, which touched at Gibraltar, on their mission to their
respective courts, consisted of a hyaena, for the Emperor of Austria ; a
brown wolf from Mount Atlas, for Nicholas : a royal tiger from the
Zahara, for the Sultan ; a blue-rumped baboon for Don Miguel ; an
urus, or bull from the Berber country, for William of England; a
Fezzan calf, of the largest size, for William of Holland ; a bubo, or
great-horned owl, for the king of Spain ; a grey panther for the king of
Prussia ; an Arab charger for Louis Philip ; an antelope for Charles
Dix ; and a whole wilderness of monkies, to be distributed impartially
among the minor princes of Germany.

The British Consul at Tangiera has, we presume, not yet informed
his sable majesty of the late principal occurrences in London, or he
would have honoured Sir Charles Hunter by a present of a white jack-
ass ; unless, perhaps, he may have heard that the military baronet has
been provided with a donkey already sufficiently conspicuous for civic
chivalry.

Now that the ministers have come back from the elections, we must,
as Shakspeare says, " have a touch of their quality." We direct their
attention to the following paragraph in one of the newspapers : — " We
have been informed that the salary of Lieutenant-Colonel Charles
Rowan, the Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, is two thou-
sand five hundred pounds per annum, with the addition of a large house,
in Whitehall-place, coals, candles, &c." If these things be so, we call on
Lord Grey to do himself credit and the nation justice, by abating the
nuisance without further delay. Colonel Charles Rowan might have
made a very proper appendage to the military gentleman, who hitherto
grasped at all ministerial power in England with an avidity which was
not merely unexampled, but of a quality for which we leave others to
find the name. But of him and his ministry we have got rid ; he has
been broken down, and broken down by that hand, which, thank
Heaven, has hitherto never struck a blow in vain, and which has been
for ages the security of England against personal' vanity, however mad-
dened by official success, or military hatred of freedom, however hardened
by military habits ; — the nation smote him, and he fell never to rise again.

The winter, which has set in with some severity among ourselves, will
probably stop the progress of the cholera, or new Russian plague, through
Germany ; and yet the Russian accounts do not seem to authorize any
sanguine hope of its cessation in the provinces surrounding Moscow.
They have already had two months of snow, and the deaths are still
going on, though perhaps in some degree diminished. No subject can
be of more anxious importance ; yet the foreign governments appear to
have paid little attention to it, and we are still without any authentic
details. In the first place, the nature of the disorder is undetermined.
It is not ascertained whether it be the Indian cholera, or merely a vio-
lent fever produced by some sudden heat of the summer in the southern
provinces of Russia, and propagated and envenomed by the carelessness
and the gross food and habits of the people, who in those provinces
differ little from barbarians. Some conceive it to be a contagion from
the Turkish frontiers, or, more probably, arising from the seeds of that
plague which the Russian armies found in their Turkish campaign, and

L2

76 Notes of the Month on [JAN.

carried with them on their return into their southern cantonments. To
this moment there is even no decision whether it is contagious or epi-
demic.

Humboldt has attempted a narrative of its progress. He conceives it
to have begun in 1818 in Bombay, from which it passed, in 1819, to
the Mauritius and Madagascar; at Bassora it was first felt in 1821. It
then traversed Syria, where it apparently decayed during three years,
though in the mean time it had ravaged the whole northern border of
Africa. In 1823, it was felt on the coasts of the Caspian; and with
peculiar mortality at Astracan. In 1829, it was felt in Persia, from
which it came into Georgia, where in one city of 50,000 people but
8,000 survived. In 1830, it was felt again at Astracan, in the month of
July, when it destroyed 21,000 people, with almost the entire of the
officers of government. From this it spread among the Cossacks of the
Don,, and finally reached Moscow. Here it was peculiarly formidable ;
it seemed to defy medicine, and the computation was, that one in three
of the attacked died. The Russian settlements on the Black Sea could
scarcely hope to escape, and it had appeared with great violence at
Odessa. It was also said to have stretched to the neighbourhood of
Constantinople.

In this narrative a great deal is probably fanciful, and in that spirit
of theory and classification which makes Humboldt, and all his country-
men, such extremely doubtful authorities on physical questions. He
has evidently pressed all the periodic disorders of those hot and un-
healthy countries into the service, and has regimented them under the
name of cholera. We must wait until some Englishmen of science,
and what is of no less importance, of accuracy, shall have examined the
disease on the spot. From the cordons which Austria is forming on the
borders of Gallicia, we must presume that the disorder is contagious;
for every one knows the absurdity of resisting the cholera by muskets
and bayonets. But if contagious, which it in all probability is, and
caught from the Turks, we cannot take too immediate precautions
against this new visitation of the plague, of all diseases the most hideous,
and which, if once suffered to make its way over Germany, will inevi-
tably spread over the whole extent of the continent. By preventing its
entrance at our seaports, we may be safe ; but, for this national pur-
pose, too great vigilance cannot be exerted, nor too great attention
paid to every advance which it may make on the continent.

There can be doubt that a great deal of the distress of the peasantry,
and, in consequence, a great deal of their insubordination, have arisen
from their want of any thing which might be called a stake in the land.
The old custom of providing the labourer with ground, however trifling
its extent might be, gave him a feeling that he belonged to the country,
and had duties to fulfil as an Englishman. But the grasping and short-
sighted system of refusing land to the cottager, while it was thrown into
large farms, and men were displaced for sheep, necessarily produced a
total alienation in the men thus thrown out, and we can have nothing
new to learn in the intelligence, that they looked on these masters as
their enemies. By this system, the whole labouring population would
in a few years have perished, or become a loose mob, roving from place
to place for employment, or, when employment failed, for plunder,
and inclined to take a part in every public disorder. On this system

1831.] , Affairs in General 77

the labourer, when his day's work was done, would have had no refuge
but the alehouse, or some miserable lodging, where, without comforts or
any other association but with men in his own situation, equally discon-
tented, equally without connection with the land, and equally exposed
to the suggestions of every low tempter, whether poacher, smuggler, or
incendiary ; in time the rebel would have found him fit for his pur-
pose, and* we might see this body, which forms the strength of the British
population, converted into the readiest instrument of public ruin.

But what a striking difference there must be in the habits, as there is
in the condition, of the labourer returning, after his day's work on his
master's grounds, to a little holding of his own, where the hours be-
tween his regular employment and his going to rest may be given to
some labour in his own little portion of ground, and where every hour
not merely employs him healthfully, but is turned to eventual benefit.
The difference is actually as broad as between the honest, kind-hearted,
and virtuous peasant, and the sullen, brutal, and vicious serf; between
the industrious labourer of old times, and the Captain Swing of the
present. We are glad to see that the cottage system is beginning to be
adopted ; and we are scarcely less pleased to see that its commence-
ment has been made, and peculiarly sanctioned, by an English prelate.
It is only justice to the Bishop of Bath and Wells to acknowledge, that
from him the idea has derived its chief and earliest support ; that he
has allotted gardens, of about half an acre each, or in some instances
more, to the cottages of his labourers. The plan is so obviously good,
that it is almost unnecessary to say it has succeeded. The example has
been followed. The Earl of Roseberry, with a view to better the con-
dition of the cottagers on his estate at Postwick, Plumstead, and Sax-
lingham, twenty-three in number, has allotted half an acre to each in
addition to what they previously occupied. The truth is, that a new
principle of treatment must be adopted to the people by their superiors.
A landlord must no longer consider his tenantry merely as machines
working for his profit, and to be disposed of in whatever way that profit
can be most expeditiously made. This infamous and inhuman system
originally began in the Highlands, where the old tenants of the lairds,
the poor peasantry, whom it should have been the pride and honour of
their masters to encourage, civilize, and make happy, were driven like
brutes from the soil on which their fathers had lived from time imme-
morial, to which all their natural feelings were bound, and of which, in
the eye of Heaven, and of man — where man was not the slave of Mam-
mon— they were as justly entitled to the undisturbed possession as their
cruel masters. We have not now to learn that avarice is a blinding
passion as well as a base and criminal one. But a stronger proof of its
blindness cannot be asked than in the results of this odious monopoly
in both Scotland and England. In Scotland, the old tenantry, driven
away in bitterness and disgust to find a refuge in the colonies, have been
succeeded by a population which scorns those masters ; and the masters
themselves have, in a crowd of instances, decayed away, and seen their
hereditary estates given into the hands of strangers and manufacturers.
In England, the extinction of the cottage holdings and the property of
the labourers, has been followed by the scourge of the poor rates, and
that scourge by the more direct one of agricultural insurrection, roh-
beries, and burnings.

The only cure for this tremendous evil is an instant return to the old

78 Notes of the Month on [JAN.

principles of country life. The landlord must be taught to feel that his
tenantry are as much entitled to life as himself, and that he is in the eye
of Heaven but a steward of his property ; that good nature and humanity
to his people are not only virtue, but wisdom — and that no man, let his
number of sheep or bullocks be what they may, can more truly do his
duty to himself or his country than he who is the means of fostering a
body of industrious, honest, and contented human beings. Beeves may
be good, but we cannot help thinking that man is of more importance ;
and that even if the adoption of the humane system should compel the
landlord to keep a hunter the less, or drink port in place of claret, he
would be sufficiently recompensed by the knowledge that a hundred or
a thousand human beings looked up to him with gratitude for his pro-
tection, and with the honest zeal in his service, and the genuine devoted-
ness, that once made the feeling of the English tenant for his landlord.
Even as mere matter of profit, there can be no doubt that the more
numerous the tenantry the more productive the soil, and, of course, the
more profitable to its proprietor. But there should be a higher feeling;
a man invested with the power of doing so much good as a great Eng-
lish landlord can, ought to feel that the power was an actual demand upon
his benevolence, that he was as accountable for his use of this exten-
sive means of making his fellow men comfortable and contented as any
other depository of power, and that of all the pleasant sights of earth,
the pleasantest is the happy human countenance.

As to the electioneering patriots, the tenants who offer themselves for
sale to the highest bidder, no matter who he may be ; the sooner the
landlord gets rid of them the better. The landlord is only an abetter
of their corruption, who suffers those sellers of themselves for filthy
lucre to remain on his estate. Of those slaves of a bribe we are not
speaking, but of the genuine, uncorrupted tenantry, who are at once the
pride of an estate, and would as much disdain the abominations of elec-
tion barter and sale as the highest mind in the land.

Jekyll is alive again. On being told that during the greater part of
Lord Brougham's eloquent oration upon the state of the law on Thurs-
day night, in the House of Lords, the Duke of Wellington evinced his
taste for the noble and learned Lord's elocution, and his interest in the
subject, by enjoying a sound nap, "Ay," said Jekyll, " no wonder ;
the man was near taking a Nap. in the battle of Waterloo/'
. At Salisbury, every person lately named to serve the office of Mayor
had paid a fine rather than take the duty. " Well," said the witty bar-
rister, " I see no more that can be done. I am afraid it would be
impossible to refine them."

At a recent sale by auction, a virtuoso had a lot knocked down to him,
consisting of a tooth of the unfortunate James, Earl of Derwentwater,
a fragment of his bloody linen, and a nail taken out of his coffin.
" There," said Jekyll, " is a genuine instance of the true antiquarian
passion, a rage tooth and nail. "

Her Majesty has expressed her intention of appointing the Scotch Greys
to be her escort during their Majesties' projected visit to Scotland in
the ensuing year. " Why not ? " said Jekyll, " when the English Greys
have got hold of the king, why should not the Scotch Greys have the
queen ?"

1831.] Affairs m General 79

That elegant affair the " prize ring" is, we greatly fear, on the wane.
What would the ghost of Mr. Windham say to this sign of the downfal
of England ? A paragraph in the Old Bailey annals stated a few days
ago, that Richard Curtis, "the pet of the fancy," was indicted for
assaulting, on the 8th of October, William Allen, known as " Jack the
Painter," and stealing from his person five sovereigns. Mr. Charles
Phillips made an objection to the indictment, with which the Court
agreed, and " the pet of the fancy" was discharged, upon his own recog-
nizance, in the sum of £400., to answer this charge at the next sessions.
Joshua Hudson, who now figures with an Ex to his name, and is
Ex-pugilist, as Parkins was Ex-sheriff, and as the Right Honourable
Sir Robert Blifil Peel is Ex-minister, whom may the stars long preserve
in the same condition, is also under a cloud. In short, the whole warlike
establishment is fallen from its high estate, and we shall probably not
hear of its revival until some new " Game Chicken" or " Nonpareil,"
starts from the multitude to " witch the world with noble pummelling."
Even Jackson, the athlete, seems " a gone" champion ; his arms are as
brawny as ever, and the circumference of his calf is undiminished ; but
the man looks as mystified as Lord Aberdeen himself; and even Lord
Burghersh, whistling his own opera as he walks down Regent-street,
smiles not in a more melancholy manner. — " Othello's occupation's gone."

Yet Jackson was a shrewd fellow in his prime ; and his hint to a
gallant Marquis is worthy even of our record. The Marquis, following
the bent of his genius, had practised for some years under the pugilist,
until at last he was informed that he had succeeded in the only study
which he ever attempted, and that his education was complete. " Well
but, Jackson," said the noble eleve, t( have you told me every thing ? is
there not something else, in the way of secret, that I have yet to learn?"
— " Why, my lord, there is one, and I shall tell it to you in confidence.
Never fight any body in earnest, or you will be d — mnably licked."

The multitude of country Tories are in alarm at the reforming threats
of the Greys. But the town Tories know better, and keep their souls
in peace. Reform sleepeth, and will enjoy a long slumber, for reasons
as well known to the Russells, the Devonshires, and all the great Whig
Lords, as to ourselves. Brougham is forcibly fixed where he will have
other things to do than make shewy speeches on such perplexing topics ;
and the matter is perfectly safe for the present. In fact, it is so quiet,
that we should not be surprised to find the Tories calling out for a
change, and demanding why the infinite scandals of the elections should
be overlooked by the legislature. The " Times" says, " the committee on
the Evesharn election have turned out the sitting members — Lord Ken-
nedy, eldest son of Lord Cassilis ; and Sir Charles Cockerell, a large
dealer in money ; declaring that they have both been guilty of bribery
— guilty of tempting a number of their fellow-subjects to betray a high
constitutional trust, and to disgrace themselves and the House of Com-
mons, and bring shame upon the order to which the noble and wealthy
personages so (most justly) dismissed from their seats, had hitherto been
considered as belonging. But we hope, that as one sort of retribution
has been already administered to the noble lord and the wealthy banker,
another and even more signal example will be made of the base commu-
nity upon whom they exercised their corruption — namely, by disfran-

80 Notes of the Month on [JAN.

chising the borough of Evesham forever. A hint to this effect was
given by the chairman, Mr. Clive." In this suggestion we must heartily
coincide. If the " free and independents" of any borough are found
turning their " most sweet voices" into the current coin of the realm,
we can discover no possible reason why the laws against bribery and
corruption should not lay their gripe on every knave of them. So much
for the boroughs !

But if the tales from Liverpool be true, that ancient and loyal town
should take its share in the benefits of public justice ; and thus the open
town go hand in hand with the flagellation of the close borough. Our
clever contemporary, John Bull, has made up his mind on this point ;
and decides that in the recent Liverpool election — " we have had exhi-
bited to us the practical advantages of giving the elective franchise to
large and populous towns — we have obtained a new, strong, and striking
proof of the excellence of that system, which proposes to prevent cor-
ruption by increasing the number of voters." He is a little in error in
his theory of corruption. Because, the close boroughs having always
exhibited instances of the purchase of the votes by wholesale, cannot
well be surpassed by the purchase of votes in retail ; and the chance
is in favour of the larger number, as the fifty t( free and independent
consciences" may come within the reach of along purse, while the largest
might find a difficulty in the purchase of five thousand. We allow that,
even to this limit, Liverpool seems to have formed a brilliant exception.
Our contemporary says — " In Liverpool, during this extraordinary con-
test, money was openly offered for votes — so open, indeed, were the
advances, that they were actually made in the open street; free and
independent electors were driven in droves often to the hustings, and at
last a regular market-price was established for their voices and con-
sciences. By all means, let us transfer the right of voting from some
iniquitous small place, where the influence of some high and honourable
person perhaps prevails, to Manchester or Birmingham, so that these
populous towns may speedily enjoy the benefit of bribery and corrup-
tion, and exhibit in their streets and markets the splendid traffic which
has been carrying on in the Lancashire metropolis."

If those things be true, we ask, where does the cat-o' -nine-tails sleep ?
The thing is iniquitous; and a part of the crime will undoubtedly be visited
on the ministers who shall let this abomination go unpunished. It is fur-
ther said that the purchase was as publicly made as at an auction ; that
the price of a voter rose as regularly in the market as the price of sugars
after a West Indian hurricane, or of teas on the news of a quarrel between
the Company's supercargo and the Mandarin of Canton ; that it finally
advanced to seventy pounds a head ; that to avoid the penalty which
every man of those honest persons was conscious he was incurring, the
purchase was made through a wall, the seller standing at one side and
the buyer at another ; that the whole purchase amounted to £70,000 ;
and that Mr. Ewart was thus declared to be chosen by the " free, pure,
unprejudiced, unpurchased, and unpurchaseable" votes of the freemen
of Liverpool ! Again, we say, let Lord Grey look to this ! We may be
told that the rival candidate has exhibited no intention of disputing the
claim ; and with good reason, if he had done the same thing ; for both
must be equally thrown out. But is there no man of sufficient patriotism
in Liverpool to demand, in the name of justice, that the matter shall be
inquired into ? Any man in the town may prefer a petition, and thus

1831.] Ajg airs in General. 81

compel the notice of the House of Commons. Or is there no member
of the House of Commons who will, on the plain knowledge of the case,
bring it forward, and demand that justice shall be done, that the
decency, at least, of election, if the purity is hopeless, shall be regarded ;
that the most precious interests of England and freedom shall not be at
the mercy of a set of electors, for whose conduct every man of sense can
find the name ; and that in a day when the governments of the earth
are about to undergo an ordeal of fire and sword, and when nothing will
be suffered to stand that has not the public good for its foundation ;
the constitution of the British empire shall not be sacrificed to the basest
and most repulsive venality.

Of course we give the story as it has reached us. The statements
have been openly made, have passed without a denial, are still repeated
without the diminution of a single feature of the criminality ; and we
ask, is nothing further to be done? Again, we say, that upon an over-
sight of this kind has depended in other times the fate of an administra-
tion. Look to this, Lord Grey !

In our last number we laughed at the clamours of the little mathe-
maticians of the Royal Society — and the largest of them is little— for
ribbons and orders. The public agreed with us, as it always does with
the right side. We asked, in the first place, is there a man of eminent
science among the whole body ? We are not now talking of the com-
pilers, the hunters out of the old mathematical papers in the library,
the adders of a screw to this machine, or a pin to the other. But is
there among them all any individual who has made any serious and
actual addition to human knowledge? We care not for " correctors of
logarithms," balancers of " pendulums on a new principle," dry reckoners
of stars, polishers of the specula of telescopes, nor even for inventors of
a new method of baking tobacco pipes. We leave them to their record —
to the ages to come. But, for our souls, we cannot prevail on ourselves
to worship them in the present generation. Is there any one of them
all in the class of Davy, or of Olbers, or even of Struve, or of any of the
men who either in the past generation or the present, have pushed us
forward a single step in the progress of the human mind ? Not one.
We are not to be answered by Cambridge reputations, those ephemera
which never survive a journey to London, and which seldom live
beyond the atmosphere of their own class-rooms. But we talk of those
vigorous acquisitions in science, which increase the permanent stock of
knowledge, and point the direct way to new command over the king-
doms of nature. We do not blame the living race of the Society's
mathematicians for not making those discoveries, for they are rare in
any age, and the men who make them must be rare. But we blame
them for being at once querulous, and assuming in their demand of
public distinctions, which, if they are to be given to science at all, are
due only to such men. Nothing is more fatal to the true honours of
science than lavishing puolic distinctions on mediocrity. But it is
a fallacy to suppose that such distinctions are in any case the natural
or advisable reward. What is a pension ? A bounty from the state
purse, often so ill applied among us, that a pensioner is generally con-
sidered as not much better than a state pauper ! Such things may be
necessary to keep the German or the Frenchman alive in countries
where there is no public. But in England, where every thing that can

M.M. New Series-— VOL. XI. No. 01. M

82 Notes of the Month on [JAN.

be of actual use, is converted to use by the national necessity, the fact of
a man's being in want of a pension is an evidence of either his being a
man of mediocrity in his science, or of his pursuing some fantasies which
cannot be converted to human use, or of his being a slave and beggar
by nature, and willing to eat the bread of a menial. A man of honour-
able spirit, the only spirit for greatness in science as well as in public
life, would disdain this palming himself upon the public charity !

In the next place, as to knighthood and ribbons, where can be the
honour of science in things that every levee-day sees hung over the
necks of sheriffs and aldermen, country fellows coming up with an
address from a corporation of clowns, the worshipful chairmen of the
corporations of barbers, tailors, and music-masters, and the whole crowd
ejiisdemfarmce ? When old Herschell first went to court, with the frip-
pery of the " Royal Guelphic Order" round his neck, was there any
addition in this bauble to the honours of the discoverer of the Georgium
Sidus ? Or was he more exalted or abased by finding that this court
honour had placed him in the same class of chivalry with the mob of
Hanoverian grooms of the bedchamber, secretaries of the stables, tra-
velling doctors, and the illustrious obscure of the Royal University of
Gottingen ? We have no doubt that the great astronomer would have
shewn his good sense in declining this childish reward, and been
remembered with more respect in his grave, if he had gone down to it
as plain Herschell.

We entirely deprecate this foolish passion for baubles, which we have
borrowed of late years from our giddy neighbours, but which once
formed the scorn of the manly mind of Britain. The only instance
which can redeem their use, is their being given for some direct service.
The Waterloo medal is a trophy, because it was given to none but those
brave men who were on the spot, and helped to win the last great day of
continental war. But if the Waterloo medal were the badge of an order,
given to men of various professions and countries, who " of the division
of a battle knew no more than a spinster," the medal would soon sink
into a burlesque. The true principle of conferring these honours is
specific service. The companionships and knighthoods of the Bath have
already become ridiculous from their being lavished on general service,
which is equivalent to none. If it were given to no man but him who
had captured an enemy's ship, led the assault of a fortress, or performed
some one distinct and memorable exploit in the war, the badge would
express an actual distinction. But now it is given to one man, for hav-
ing been in one quarter of the world for so many years ; to another, for
having been lieutenant-colonel for so many more ; to another, because it
had been given to somebody else — until the badge is worth no more than
a button !

We see proposals in the newspapers, from old ranters of the military
clubs, for an Order " to comprehend all officers of a certain standing ;"
so that every fool who may have contrived to sleep through fifteen or
twenty years in the army, is to shine forth upon the world a Chevalier !
But this nonsense would only make Orders more empty. In France,
every third man has a bit of blue or red ribbon sticking to his button-
hole. Who thinks the more of this knightly rabble for it ? The bit of
ribbon is nothing but the sign of the wearer's folly. But if these things
are ridiculous even among the class of society which has been always led
by shew, how infinitely trifling must this be among men of real know-

1831.] Affairs in General. 83

ledge ! How childish must a man like Watt think himself become, when,
turning from his own stupendous invention of the steam-engine, he
could feel flattered by looking at his figure in the glass, decorated with
half a yard of taffeta, with a crown's- worth of silver at the end of it, and
the permission of Rouge King at Arms to call himself Sir James ? Pro-
motion of Science, indeed ! Promotion of fiddlers and tailors, if they
will. But Science has a knighthood of its own, to which neither favour
nor fiction can elevate pretenders. If it choose to solicit the petty distinc-
tions that can be given by the ribbon- weaver, it only degrades itself,
throws away the original honours which are reserved for its exclusive
possession, and shews that it is consciously unworthy of the name !

If we had more respect for the An ti- Slavery politicians than we can
bring ourselves to feel, it would be prodigiously diminished by their
incessant attempts to make (C the ladies" ridiculous. We speak of the
" politicians ;" for we fully believe that there are many well-intentioned
people involved in these restless applications. Our aversion is for the
demure gentlemen who turn these honest people into instruments for
purposes as worldly as ever passed through the brain of a Treasury
whipper-in. But their efforts to make the women of England parties in
their pious roguery, are intolerable; and while we declare that a "fe-
male president, treasurer, and secretary" are a combination of monstro-
sities in our eyes, hardly less startling than the three heads of Cerberus,
yet this offensive foolery is urged, on in every village where half a dozen
spinsters can be conglomerated over their tea ; they fancy themselves
into public characters, and in due time forth comes an address, painted
by the last pupil of the drawing-school, aud pinned up in silver paper
by the dowager-saint of the sisterhood. Thus we learn that " the peti-
tion to the Queen from the ladies of Derby, praying her Majesty to
extend her influence to procure the abolition of slavery in our colonies,
has received about 1,200 signature. The petition is beautifully written,
and enclosed between two richly-embossed card-boards. One of them
is ornamented by the figure of a liberated female slave, in Indian ink,
exquisitely executed by a young lady of that town." They ought to be
put on short allowance of rouge and flirtation for the next six months.

Signs of the Times. — The noble persons who voted so vigorously for
the popish question are now beginning to awake. O'Connell's Anti-
Union system is making them tremble already for their acres ; and we
shall soon see Mr. George Robins, or some equally eloquent man of the
trade, distributing the Irish lands of these noble politicians : ex. gr. " The
Duke of Devonshire intends to dispose of the Sir Walter Raleigh estates,
which he holds in this country. We are much pleased with his Grace's
determination, and we hope his example will be speedily followed by all
the other Irish absentees/' So be it.

Let our men of peace say what they will, Russia is clearly determined
to let nothing go on in Europe without her interference. The story of
the Polish insurrection, whether true or false, will serve its purpose,
when it has collected two or three hundred thousand gallant savages on
the western frontiers, ready to march in the direction of Berlin, Belgium,
or, if the Emperor Francis should be frigid on the occasion, in the road
to Vienna, any one of which they might reach in a month.

M 2

84 Notes of the Month on [JAN

It is the business of Russia to make war ; for war is the business of all
semi-barbarous nations. It is the policy of Russia to plunge Western
Europe into war, that she may make prize of Constantinople ; and it is
the personal interest of the Czar to keep his bearded heroes at war some-
where or other ; for idleness is in Russia the mother of revolutions. And
as every man's own throat has a right to figure extensively in his general
calculations, the Czar may naturally prefer having the Grand Turk at
his feet, to having the head taken off his own shoulders.

But the grand temptation to war is, the possession of power, as the
next temptation is the knowledge of security. Russia has both, beyond
any empire ever known. Her empire is almost boundless, and who can
follow her into the deserts that spread over half a world ?

In one of the foreign scientific journals there is a calculation, accord-
ing to which the Russian empire exceeds the terra firma in the moon by
123,885 square leagues. The diameter of the moon is 893 leagues, con-
sequently the surface 2,505,261 square leagues. If in the moon, as in
our earth, the fluid part, which we call sea, covers two-thirds of the
surface, only 835,087 square miles remain for the terra firma. Now,
according to the calculations made in the year 1818, the Russian empire
extends over a surface of 958,972 square leagues, the possessions in
America included, consequently the excess remains as above stated.
According to another calculation, the Russian empire extends over 174Q
of longitude, and 36^Q of latitude. It contains about 2-19th parts of
the terra firma, the 14th part of our hemisphere, and the 28th part of our
earth. Its population is about 45,271,469 souls ; one million of savages,
and 340,000 noblemen, not included.

Pope says, " Your true no meaning puzzles more than wit." But he
would have expressed a more intelligible, and a more important truth, if
he had said, that your well-meaning fools do much more mischief than
could be expected from the merest malice. All those people are reli-
gionists, that is twaddlers, who make religion their chief twaddle, who
drink their tea to a text, and play the habitual fooleries of their foolish
lives with visages worthy of a martyr, and phrases fit for nothing but a
mad disciple of Joanna Southcote, or Robert Brothers. Idiots, must
they not be conscious that they are throwing disgrace on scripture, and
teaching men to burlesque religion. Of what calibre must be the Clap-
hamite author and distributors of such stuff as the following?

" RADICAL REFORM.

" The corruption which so generally prevails in this country loudly
proclaims the necessity of an entire and radical reform ; and it is
certainly the duty of every man to promote it to the utmost of his
power.

" An old writer has said, ' That if every man would sweep before
his own door, the city would soon be swept :' — and if every radical
reformer will commence the work at home, a national reformation of the
best kind must follow.

" And, perhaps, there is room for a reform in your own conduct,
my reader ! You hate slavery, and are you the slave of sin ? You
complain of taxes, and do you, to gratify your lusts, tax your time,
money, health, and character ? You detest tyranny, and do you act
the part of a tyrant to your wife and children ? No wonder, then, you
call for a radical reform — there is one needed. < For the wrath of

1831.] Affairs in General. 85

God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteous-
ness of men,' of every rank, and because ' of such wickedness the land
mourneth.'

" Then fly from the slavery and drudgery of sin : its pleasures are
but for a season ; its wages is Death. Look to the Redeemer of men,
he can deliver you from your worst oppressors ; and ' if the Son make
you free, ye shall be FREE INDEED.' John viii. 36."

We have no doubt that every profession might furnish a " library" of
its own. This is the day of professional recollections, and of libraries.
If we have a family library, why not a church library, a law, a medical,
an antiquarian, an architectural, and above all, a military and naval ;
all those works not being restricted to the mere didastic of the sciences ;
but comprehending biographies, anecdotes, curious details of the pro-
gress of their respective classes of men and things, &c. " The Military
Bijou," by John Shipp, so well known for his original and curious auto-
biography, would make an excellent volume in a " soldier's library."
Some passages of it are extremely interesting, for those are fragments of
the writer's personal experience. And there are sketches of character, and
descriptions of things, written with a pleasant quaintness, that reminds
us of some of the oddities of Swift. For instance, in the description of
an aide-de-camp's duties —

" When carrying orders, let your eye be directed to the very point
aimed at. You have nothing to do with the flying shots, if they have
nothing to do with you. If you should lose your horse, travel on foot.
If you should lose a leg, you must hop on one. If you should lose both,
you must try how you can travel on the other extremity. But should
you lose your head, you had better stop, for you cannot deliver a verbal
message. Should an aide-de-camp have a sealed message, and find his
escape from the enemy quite impossible, it is better that he should eat
the written command, then that the enemy should digest it.

" The Blackhole. Lonely as this place is, you may have company, not
very select, however, being of the lower grade ; bats, bugs, rats, mice,
&c. Then sometimes you have visitors, but some of them certainly not
of the most agreeable kind, although frequently of your own making ;
the head-ache, the heart-ache, the cramp, gnawing of conscience, the
blue devils. There are, with all those evils, benefits the most essential
and salutary. It is a fine place for reflection in sound and sober minds.
Temperance is taught there ; no excess of liquor, no immoderate use of
food, all your meals are on the most studied economy, no superfluities,
no second and third courses, no dessert, but one plain, solid, whole-
some dish — bread ! There is one thing in which there is a superabun-
dance, sparkling, pure water.

" During one of the engagements I was in, with the 87th regiment,
the bugler was ordered to sound a retreat. The bugler replied, * I
never learnt it, your honour/ ' And why?' said the captain. < Please
your honour/ was the answer, ' the boys told me it would be of no
use/

" An Irish soldier, who was in the Duke of York's retreat from Dun-
kirk, being asked how they retreated, replied, ' Sure we did not retreat
at all, at all/ f Well,' said the gentleman, ' how did you get to your
shipping ?' ' Why, by an eschellon movement, sideways ! ' '

Many of the little sketches of weapons, &c. are lively.— " Musket.

86 Notes of the Month on [JAN.

Brown bess. It is the soldier's best and dearest friend — his great and
sure peace-maker between him and his foes. They seldom quarrel,
save at times when she misses fire ; but which is not intentional, but
from the damps of night, &c.

" The Bayonet. This little offspring of faithful Bessy is adapted to
many uses, it is a good disputant, very pointed and sharp in argument,
and often finds its way to the heart. It is also a good spit to roast a
steak on, a fork, a candlestick, a poker, and a potatoe-digger.

f< The Fife. Little shrill notes that summon brave soldiers to fight,
and in time of peace, that lead the maidens to foot it on the light fan-
tastic toes of conviviality ; the merry hornpipe. The little instrument
has other uses • as a pot-ladle, to stir up the heterogeneous soup ; to
make puddings, pies and bread.

" The Drum. This is not only ornamental, but exceedingly useful.
It bears the boasted crown of England, and the rampant lion. Its sonor-
ous roll strikes terror into the bosom of the foe. Besides, it is a good
seat, a good table, used sometimes for sucking pigs, turkies, geese,
ducks, fowls, and it has been known to contain a child, * born on the
crimson plain of war.' "

If the present style of thinking goes on for a few years longer, the
Asiatics will be the only nations honoured by kingship. The monar-
chies of Europe will be commonwealths ; the kings, presidents ; and the
lords, commons. It will then be worth while to send to India for an
example of monarchy, as we once sent to her for science, and in later
years for money and muslin. His majesty of Ava, brother of him of
" the golden foot/' is a fine specimen at least of the pomp ; and the em-
bassy of Major Burney (who however, we hope, is not on the 12,000 a
year scale) teems with gold stuffs, formal speeches, scymetars, and
ceremonial. The major was obliged to wait at the youn dau, or Royal
Court-house, until the princes and great officers had entered the palace
in state, during which time refreshments were served up in gold uten-
sils. The princes were carried in gilt litters, with eight or ten gilt
umbrellas held over each of them, preceded by musicians, gold censers,
elephants, &c. The shoes were discarded at the steps of the Hall of
Audience, and the envoy and his suite were seated immediately in front
of the throne ; after a few minutes a rumbling sound, like that of dis-
tant thunder, was heard, when a folding gilt door was thrown open, and
the king, most richly attired, made his appearance. His majesty had
on a gold crown, and a fine gold flowered gown, richly beset with
jewels. All the courtiers, £c. prostrated themselves and prayed. The
embassy took off their hats and bowed ; the appointed Burmese officer
then read aloud the letter from the governor-general, and a list of the
presents. The king inquired after the health of the governor-general,
if the seasons were favourable, and if they had had refreshing rains at
Calcutta ? To which suitable answers were returned ; shortly after his
majesty retired, and the folding door was closed. The embassy left the
palace soon after. They were amused for a few minutes at the palace-
yard with feats of tumblers, rope-dancers, &c. and returned in the same
state home.

In the confusion of the continent, Algiers has been forgotten. If
British interests are likely to be injured by the French retention of this
burning territory, we must regret it. But it will require more proof

J83L] Affairs in General 87

than we have at present of the fact. The French are just the people to
make something of those savages. They teach them to dance, curl their
moustaches, and lounge in opera-boxes. If the Saracens grow sulky,
they send a brigade of six-pounders to convert them without delay, and
the thing is done ; the savages ride out, flourish their scymetars, and
swear by the beard of the prophet to sweep the infidels from the face of
the earth. The French commence a fire of round and grape, follow it
up with the bayonet, and in two days their aides-de-camp are riding full
gallop back to Algiers, with news that the general and his staff are giving
a ball and supper in the Harem. The last news says :

" ALGIERS, Nor. 25.

" The taking of Mediah, the residence of the Bey of Titery, and the
submission of that Bey, will complete the pacification of the whole
regency. In the battle before Blida we had 30 men wounded. In that
which has just taken place in Mediah we had 100 hors de combat."

Thus the French have conquered a kingdom as large as Spain, with as
fine a climate, and commanding the entrance to that land of terrors and
treasures, the central region of Africa. They are going on a la Franqaise
in all points. They have compelled the Moors to clean their streets, and
do not despair of making them wash their shirts and faces in time.
They have run up a central avenue through Algiers, and ventilated the
town. They have slain the mongrels that infested the streets, and
reduced an establishment of dunghills as venerable as Mahomet. They
have built an Opera-house, ordering the wealthy Moors to put down
their names on the box-list, and subscribe, as becomes patrons of the fine
arts. They have arranged a circle of private boxes in this theatre, to
which the ladies of the several Harems have keys, and where they listen
to Italian songs, learn to be delighted with the romantic loves of Europe,
and turn over a leaf in human nature, which no Algerine Houri ever
turned before. A detachment of dancing-masters has been brigaded for
the service, and modistes "from Paris " are rapidly opening shops in the
" Grande Rue Royale." The ladies are, as might be expected, in rap-
tures with the change, and go out shopping with the air of an elegante
of the Fauxbourg St. Germain. Galignani daily communicates to the
Algerine coffee-houses the news of a world of which they hitherto knew
no more than of the news of the dog-star. All is gaiety, gesticulation,
and the march of intellect. If a great three-tailed bashaw feels disposed
to express the slightest dislike of the new regime, they order him to be
shaved, dispossess him of his turban, pipe, and scymetar, and send him
to learn the manual exercise under one of their Serjeants. The remedy
is infallible. In twelve hours a revolution is effected in all his opinions;
he learns the French art of looking delighted under all circumstances,
and returns from the drill a changed man. The offending Mauritanian
is disciplined out of him, and the parade has inducted him into the march
of mind for the rest of his days. The French are distilling brandy from
sea- weed ; are teaching buffaloes to draw their cabriolets, have already
formed a subscription pack of tiger hounds ; and, except that they are
scorched to a cinder, with the more serious evils that they must wait a
week for the Paris news, and have not yet been able to prevail on Potier
and Mademoiselle Du Fay to join their theatre, are as happy as sultans.

The town has been prodigiously perplexed with questions of the
oddest and most impudent kind within the last week. We give a few

88 Notes of the Month on Affairs in General. [JAN.

of them, like conundrums in the Almanacks, soliciting answers from our
ff ingenious correspondents."

Quaere. — Who is the very confidential confidant of the late King, who
has been so often and so keenly examined before the Privy Council
lately ?

What is the amount of the last three checks signed by the late King,
and to whom were they paid ?

Why did the Marchioness and her husband order post-horses with
such expedition, and what sudden illness made them discover that no
climate but a foreign one would suit their health ?

Why has the Lord Chancellor discarded his wig of office and adopted
the scratch, or is it in compliment to Jeffery's nationality ?

Why has Lord Glentworth been made Governor of New South

Wales in place of General Darling ? Or why has Lady 's darling

been thus transported in exchange for a gentleman who was nobody's
darling but his own ?

Why has Colonel Fitzclarence vacated the Adjutant-Generalship ?

Who is to have the Munster peerage ?

What is to become of the continental Kings in the next twelvemonth ?

What is His Grace of Wellington at present ?

Who is Captain Swing ?

The revival of Lord Byron's rtfacciamento, of Miss Lee's rifacciamento
of the German story of Werner, has offered Macready an opportunity of
giving the world some variety in his performance. The tragedy was
good for nothing in the closet, and is, of course, good for nothing on
the stage. But this is no fault of Macready. He shews that he has
powers which have scarcely yet been appreciated. Out of the hardness
and dryness of Werner he produced effects unusual to the modern stage.
He has not a single passage of character to utter, he has not even a
single striking sentiment, and yet wherever he appeared he produced
strong effect. The truth is, the man has earnestness — a quality essential
above all others to the stage. He has energy ; and this, we will con-
fess, has done wonders even with the dull, and dreamy story, repulsive
characters, and common-place language of " Werner." We are glad to
see Macready once more in his place on the stage, and only wish
him a writer equal to his powers.

Another performer on the London stage deserves a larger scope than
she has hitherto found. Miss E. Tree's performance of the " Jealous
Lady," in the little French farce, is so admirable, that it ought to teach
the manager of Covent-garden what a treasure he has in his hands. We
must not exhibit our gallantry too vividly in the praise even of a lady's
looks ; but it is only just to say that in this actress he has one of the
most graceful representatives of female grace, elegance, and animation
that the stage has seen for many years. Is she yet unequal to Lady
Teazle, to Mrs. Oakley, or to any heroine of the higher comedy ? We
think not ; and that if well supported by the other characters, she would
add greatly to the popularity of the house. In the minor comedy, the
only kind which she has hitherto tried, she has no equal. Her Mrs.
Mordaunt is capital, and her Swedish Queen, the young Christine,
glowing with passion and beauty, is among the most finished and
delightful performances on the stage.

1831.] [ 89 ]

MONTHLY 11EVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.

Life and Correspondence of Admiral
Lord Rodney, by Major- General Mundy.
2 vols. 8vo. — Till the publication of Lord
Collingwood's Letters the public cer-
tainly had no adequate conception of the
manly character and executive powers
of that excellent and amiable person,
and the same may be said of Rodney.
The Correspondence now published by
General Mundy (who married a daughter
of Lord Rodney) shews the naval hero
in a very favourable light. In the
common estimate he was a daring, de-
cisive sort of man, with a good deal of
fanfarinade about him, and of an over-
weening spirit, which prompted him to
kick at all control, and trample upon
authority. Something of this wild and
impetuous character is visible in the
correspondence, but in general he ap-
pears rather the resolute, steady, tho-
rough-bred sailor, austere in aspect and
manner, and rigid in enforcing orders.
More sensitive than Collingwood, the
curb, especially of the Admiralty, was
intolerable to him. Like Nelson, he was
ready, on slight occasions, to break into
complaint, and, like him, too prompt to
take the bit in his teeth, and run at his
own speed, and in his own direction. He
had the full confidence of the sailors, but
not the affections of his officers. Nelson
was familiar and attached them ; while
Rodney was stern and severe, and frown-
ed all malcontents into obedience. He
won nothing by his smiles. Indiscreet
and imprudent in the management of
his domestic affairs, he was in frequent
embarrassment, which seems to have
sharpened the annoyances he felt at
Avhat he was too apt to regard as neglect
and inadequate reward. Too frank and
free-speaking also, he made enemies just
where he wanted friends, and looked to
a seat in parliament as his only security
for proper treatment from the Admi-
ralty, liodney was descended from a
younger branch of a very old family,
and well connected. His father, origi-
nally in the army, had the command of
the yacht which conveyed George I.
to and from the continent, which led to
the king's becoming his baptismal spon-
sor. Young liodney was educated at
Harrow, and went to sea at twelve years
of age, with a letter of service from the
king — the last that was granted. There
is some mistake in this— the king had
been dead three years. At the age of
twenty-four he was in command of a
sixty-four, and seems to have been con-
stantly employed. Six years afterwards
he was presented to George II., who
observed, he did not know he had so
young a captain in his navy. Upon
which Lord Anson expressed a wish

M.M. New Series — VOL. XL No. 61.

that his majesty had a hundred such ;
and the king, notwithstanding his igno-
rance, with all due courtesy wished so
too. Under the auspices of Mr. Pitt,
who knew his valour, he was confiden-
tially and actively engaged during the
war in Louisiana, at the attack on Havre,
and in the West Indies ; and at this
period commences the correspondence
which supplies almost the whole ma-
terials of the volumes, with occasional
linking by the editor, liodney was
seldom in luck in his appointments,
though he was never long without them.
After the peace of 1763 he was made
governor of Greenwich ; and in 1771
appointed to the Jamaica station, but
compelled to resign Greenwich, though
many of his predecessors had held the
office in conjunction with similar com-
mands. On that station he continued
four years, and looked forward confi-
dently to the governorship of Jamaica ;
but in the vacancy, he was not only dis-
appointed, but even recalled. This in-
dignity he attributed to Lord Sandwich,
and di'd not easily forget. He was now
laid upon the shelf. Fond of company,
and well received in society, Sir George
soon got into pecuniary difficulties,
though General Mundy denies that he
was ruined, as has been reported, where
so many were stripped, at the Duchess of
Bedford's. He was, however, obliged
to withdraw from his creditors, and re-
tire to Paris. In the American war,
when the French joined the Americans,
he solicited employment by letter in
vain, and his embarrassments precluded
personal application ; till finally, the
Mareschal de Biron forced a loan upon
him, and he obtained an appointment
at the king's urgency, though Lord
Sandwich was ready enough, upon Rod-
ney's successes, to claim the whole merit
of selecting so distinguished an officer.
He had scarcely lost sight of the Chan-
nel at the beginning of 1780, when
he captured several of the Spanish
ships ; and a few months afterwards en-
countered the French fleet, where, being
ill seconded by his captains, his victory
was far short of his expectation. In his
correspondence he attributed their be-
haviour to political faction, and the sup-
pressed passages in his dispatches are
now published. Before, however, his
final defeat of Count de Grasse, he had
conciliated their good will, or frightened
them into obedience, for on that occasion
he commended without exception every
officer under his command. About a
month before this decisive victory, the
change of administration had taken place,
and before the news of his victory reach-
ed home, an order had been sent out for
N

90

Monthly Review of Literature,

[JAN.

his recal. He came home accordingly,
and a peerage and a pension were grudg-
ingly given him. He had the year
before captured the island of Eustatius,
the spoils of Avhich amounted to two
millions, but which appears to have be-
nefited him but little. He lived till 1702,
and died poor. Rodney went heart and
soul into the American Avar. Pirates
and rebels are perpetually at his pen's
end : just as Nelson detested the very
name, sight, and visage of a Frenchman.
He had spent much of his time in the
AVest Indies, but never saw any thing
but kindness on the part of the planters,
and apparently believed there really
Avas nothing, e'ven then, but kindness ;
of course, in his situation, he saw no-
thing of the interior.

Life of Titian, by James Nortlicote^
Esq., R.A. 2 vote. 8 wo — Mr. North-
cote's Life of Titian is but a dull per-
formance, though no doubt presenting as
full an account as can now be recovered
of the artist. As a narrative, it is not
sufficiently, scarcely at all, concentrat-
ed—the interest is broken in upon not
only by sketches of cotemporary artists,
which can be borne with, but even with
the story of his sitters, which cannot.
A Arery considerable portion of the vo-
lumes is occupied Avith the letters of
Aretino, his friend, and those of Vasari,
his biographer — not often upon matters
of close connection Avith Titian, and still
less on subjects of any general^ value.
Some seventy pages are filled with let-
ters and papers relative to Michael An-
gelo ; but Avhat have they to do Avith
Titian? — and finally, Avhen the life is
got through, it begins again, under the
head of " Illustrations from Ridolfi, Ti-
cozzi, and others" — all which should of
course have been worked into the gene-(
ral narrative — in point of fact, much of
it is, and Avith that the compiler might
have been content. This, however, re-
fers to the construction of the book, and
certainly does no great credit to his
grand adviser — our friend Hazlitt. But
though as a composition — as a piece of
elaborate biography, it is but an unat-
tractive concern, all that is to be learnt
of Titian's external history may be
found in it, and, moreover, we have a
very competent estimate of his Avorks —
a general, and that a sound judgment,
but yet more defective, that is, less on
each" picture than we naturally looked
for from so accomplished an artist, and
a gentleman, too, not backward in ex-
pressing his sentiments, though they
should chance to conflict with those of
others. On the Avhole, we are disap-
pointed, though generally concurring
heartily with his opinions wherever he
has developed them.

Titian's was a life of unusual extent

— born, it should seem, not later than
1480, he lived till 1576, and then died
of the plague. He was a native of a
village near Friuli, Avithin the bounda-
ries of Venice, and spent by far the
greatest part of his days in Venice — it
was always his home. Though within
so short a distance of Rome, he never
visited that capital till 1545, and then
only upon a professional invitation by
Cardinal Farnese. Fifteen years before
he had, through his friend Aretino, got
himself introduced to Charles V. when
at Bologna; and soon after his return
from Rome, he Avas summoned into Ger-
many by the Emperor, and subsequently
went into Spain. By Charles he was
always treated Avith the highest distinc-
tion, and finally made a count of the
empire. At the conclusion of a sitting
• — he had been painted twice before by
Titian — " This," said Charles, u is the
third time I have triumphed over
death ;" and every body has heard of
his rebuff to the courtiers, Avho grudged
his attentions to Titian—" I can make
a hundred lords, but not one Titian."
Even Philip Avas courteous to the art-
ist ; and both Charles and his son it
seems handled the pencil with some fa-
cility. Titian painted to the last — leav-
ing several pictures unfinished, and pro-
bably painted a greater number, to say
nothing of their merit, than any painter
on record. His pictures in Spain form,
alone, a large and magnificent collection.
Titian's jealousy of his brother artists,
the existence of which can scarcely be
disputed, began very early, and seems,
amidst' all his celebrity, never to have
left him. He soon gave up his school
— he could not bear the advances of his
pupils. Tintoret so far outstripped his
fellow-disciples, that Titian grew alarm-
ed, and actually expelled him. Any rival
painter who got a job in Arenice was
sure to incur his enmity ; and he
would even resort to intrigue to sup-
plant him, or get him dismissed. Por-
denone Avas obliged— or affected to be^
so — to guard against the violence of
Titian, and paint his frescoes in the
cloisters of St. Stephen, with his sword
drawn by his side. " Such," observes
Nortlicote, " Avas not the character of
Raphael or of Michael Angelo; and it
Avas to this difference of character that
we probably owe the superior grandeur
and refinement of their ideal concep-
tions. Every man's yenius pays a tax to
his vices."

Titian had rubbed on in his youth
a good deal without instruction, and the
little he obtained he soon laboured to
get rid of. He was consequently some-
what defective in point of drawing ; but
though he might have superiors in that
respect, he Avas not, as all must see who
look at his pictures with an eye of iutclli-

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

91

gence, a colourist only. Mengs and Bar-
ry speak of him as absolutely knowing
nothing of the matter; " but had either
of them," says Northcote, " been equal
to him in this respect, it would have
been their highest merit."

Among other matters not very closely
connected with Titian in these volumes,
is Northcote's discussion on- the encour-
agement of art in England and Italy.
It was interest alone that was the cause
of their rise in Italy, and not a love of
the arts in that people more than in
any other country. And could the fine
arts in England, by any contrivance, be
brought to aid the power of the govern-
ment as much as the rotten boroughs,
we should see them patronized to such
a degree as would quickly cause them
to mount to the highest heaven of in-
vention. It is surprising, Northcote
adds — with a degree of justice which
nobody who knows anything about the
matter will deny —

It is surprising how partial every nation, ex-
cept our own, is to their artists; a Dutchman
will prefer the high finish of his Alieris and Ge-
rard Dow, his Ostade and Berghem ; the Fleming
will celebrate his Rubens and Vandyke, Teniers
and Rembrandt; the Frenchman will boast of
Iris Le Brim, Le Sneur, Bourdon, and dispute the
merit of his Poussin even with Raphael ; while
the Italian looks on them all with contempt. And
even in Italy, every province contends for the pre-
cedence of its own school against that of all
others, whilst the Englishman is pleased with
every thing that is not the production of Eng-
land.

Musical Memoirs, by W. T. Parke.
2 vols. \2rno. — Parke, the younger, (he
had an elder brother of some celebrity
for the same instrument) was forty years
principal oboe player at Covent Garden,
and in his very childhood connected with
the stag 2 as a soprano singer. Music is
of course all the world to him, and he
sees nothing in it but singers, players,
and their patrons. Endless as memoirs
of the stage have been of late, the gene-
ral purveyor and publisher of these mat-
ters detected an opening for another set
— the musical folks had not perhaps had
their share of distinction, and the soft
" persuaders" of the bibliopolist tempted
Mr. Parke to supply the deficiency. His
Memoirs are more strictly annals, and
contain, for the most part, little beyond
the successions of popular vocal and in-

of Sheridan, Foote, Hook, Colman, and
Kemble's best and worst.

The first piece, in which Parke him-
self assisted, was Garrick's "Christmas
Tale," in 1775. The hero vows, recita-
tively —

By my shield and my sword ;
By the chaplet which circles my brow;
By a Knight's sacred word,
Whatever you ask,
How dreadful the task,
To perform before Heaven I vow.

" What do you think of that ?" ex-
claimed Garrick, in ecstacies, at the re-
hearsal, to all about him. " What do
you think of it, Cross ?" — " Why, I
think," replies Cross, " it is the best
singing affidavit I ever heard." Gar-
rick looked blue, and never smiled again
upon Cross, who was apt, as Touchstone
has it, not to be aware of his own wit
till he broke his shins against it.

Your foreigners blunder out facts now
and then. Salomon, the violin-player,
taught the late king, when Prince of
Wales. " Well, Mr. Salomon," in-
quired the royal pupil one day, " how
do I get on ?" — " Pleash your High-
ness," said Salomon, brimful of syco-
phancy, " der are tre stages of music ;
first, der is pick out, read notes, count
time, &c., not play at all. Second, der
is plav, but play very bad — out of time,
out of tune — noting at all. Now, your
highness has just got into de second
stage."

Parke himself was in the prince's ser-
vice, as well as his brother. At the
settling of the prince's debts, the bro-
ther's demand, amounting to £500., was
discharged, with a deduction of ten per
cent., to which all demands were sub-
jected ; but Parke himself withheld his
claim, thinking it, as he himself states,
more delicate, and that — the ruling mo-
tive of course — he should ultimately lose
nothing by his superfine delicacy. But
creditors have notoriously the longest
memories, and Parke — the prince pos-
sibly never heard of his " dutiful mark
of respect" — never received any mark
of his favour, princely or royal — that is,
he never got paid ; " but in spite of this
neglect, he felt no diminution," he says,
" of his warm attachment, and at his
death shed tears, as sincere as those of
any of his cotemporaries." When will
there be an end of this sort of fudge ? -

strumental performers from the days of it has long ceased to dupe any body.
Tiavi^i'o ^mv.-.oTOrtT.at-;™! ,)««.« f« fko, Giardini, it seems, was not admitted

of Cumberland's table.

Handel's commemoration down to the
current season, besprinkled, sometimes
profusely, with the floating puns and
repartees, that fill the atmosphere of
the green-room, and have been repeated
over and over again till we are thorough-
ly weary of them. The least Mr. Parke
could have done, or his patron have di-
rected, was to read the books of his pre-
decessors, and spared us the rechaufiees

to the Duke

No,-

It was reserved for His Royal Highness, George,
Prince of Wales, through his liberality and con-
descension to burst the barrier which had kept
the arts at a chilling distance ; and through its
hitherto impervious portal, to admit some talented
men to the high distinction of sitting at his royal
table.
N 2

Monthly Review of Littrtilnrc,

[JAN.

And the prince })robably remembered
his folly upon more than one ocasion —
and especially when, at a private con-
cert of his own, after treating Rossini
with the highest distinctions, he pressed
for another piece by way of finale to the
evening's entertainment, Rossini made
his bow with—" I think we have had
enough for one night." And this to the
man who paid for his fiddling.

Parke " lets the cat out of the bag" on
the subject of encores. We have only
room for the forcers. —

The Kind's Theatre commenced for the season
on the 18th of December with Mozart's comic
opera, " Le Nozze di Figaro," in which Madame
Bellochi sang admirably. The house that night
was remarkably thin '; indeed the most numerous
part of the audience were the forcers, viz those
dependants of the principal singers who are ad-
mitted with orders to set the applause and the
encores going. These people, however, are some-
times necessary, as the following fact will show :
At Covent Garden Theatre, some few years back,
John Kemble, then stage-manager, had got up
one of the Roman plays of Shakspeare, the first
representation of which he came into the orchestra
to witness, and sat next to me. Although the
language was beautiful, and admirably delivered,
yet the apathy of the audience was such, that the
actors could not obtain a sign of approbation.
This, he observed, was intolerable; therefore to
a succeeding speech he gently tapped his stick on
the floor, which was followed by the hands of a
tew of the audience. This he repeated occasion-
ally, increasing the force each time, till the au-
dience at length gave the actors loud and general
applause. "There, Mr. Parke," said he to me,
" you seethe use of a forcer."

In 17^3, Dr. Arne had sixty guineas
for his Artaxerxes ; in 1781, Shield
had forty for Rosina; in 1791, Storace
£1000. for The Siege of Belgrade; and,
in 1804, Braham as many guineas for
"The English Fleet." These matters
are returning apparently to old prices —
not so, however, those of foreign singers
— they have increased, are increasing,
and ought to be diminished, as Dunning
said of the influence of the crown. Be-
fore the close of the Opera in 1738, Nico-
lini had 800 guineas for a season ; Sene-
sini, 1,500 ; and Farenilli built a temple
on his return to Italy, dedicated to Eng-
lish follv. In Parke's time, Pacchie-
rotti retired with ,£20,000. ; Marchesi,
in three seasons, with £10,000 ; Mara,
Banti, Billington (more than half an
Italian), each out-salaried the other;
Catalani, in 1814, had £3,000. and two
benefits ; and Pasta, £4,500., with a be-
nefit insured at £1000. Parke has no
doubt native talent now quite equals
foreign — he has heard foreigners to
justify Benedict's — "If I had a dog
howled so, I'd hang him."

Alluding to Braham's money. making
spirit, he tells a story of a child of his —
to shew how the passion of grasping is

burnt into the race of singers from their
birth—

A gentleman, who was in the habit of visiting
at the house of that iidmired singer, informed me
(as an admirable trait in a child then only five
years old) that he one day asked Brabam's little
boy to sing him a song, which the infant said he
would do if he would pay him for it. "Well,
my little dear," said the gentleman, " how much
do you ask for one?" — " Sixpence," replied the
child. — " Oh," said the other, " can't you sing
me one for less?''- "No," said the urchin, " I can't
take less for one ; but I'll sing you three for a
shilling."

The Arrow and the Rose, with other
Poems, by William Kennedy. — Here is
some manly versification, with a spice of
humour and satire, though the tale upon
which much of it is spent is of the ro-
mantic caste. Charles IX- of France,
with his precious mother, Catherine de
Medicis, on their way to Bayonne stop-
ped at Nerac, to pay a visit —

To the good lady of Navarre,
Whose son was then arising star ;
Ere to Bayonne they pass'd, to gain —
Through gloomy Alva— fresh from Spain,
The newest scourge to lash mankind,
For not submitting to seem blind.
Catherine, a true devotee
Of pious house of Medici,
Joined in the frolics of the court,
Like sanctity bewitched by sport;
Her maids of honour played sad tricks
On handsome Gascon heretics.

Among the festivities was an archery-
match, at which young Henry, then a
lad of sixteen, distinguished himself as a
shot. Charles, as became a king, made
but bungling work; but the Duke of
Guise contested the prize with Henry.
They had each of them cleft an orange. —

Harry liked little to divide
The garland with Parisian pride,
And failing at the time to find
An orange suited to his mind,
Begged from a blushing country maid
A red rose in her bosom laid.
Poor girl! it was not in her power
From such a youth to save the flower!
The prize was his — triumphantly
He fixed it on a neighbouring tree —
His bonnet doff 'd, and cleared his brow,
While beauty whispered — note him now !
A moment, and the sweet rose shivered
Beneath the shaft that in it quivered.
He bore the arrow and its crest,

The wounded flower to the fair,
The pressure of whose virgin breast

It late seemed proud to bear —
Shrinking, she wished herself away,
As the young prince, with bearing gay
And gallant speech, before her bent,
Like victor at a tournament —
" Damsel! accept again" — he said —
«' With this steel stalk, thy favourite, dead !
Unwept it perished — for there glows
On thy soft cheek a lovelier rose."

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

This was Fleurette, the gardener's
daughter, with whom some hint-cent
flirtation followed. Henry turned gar-
dener, neglected his studies, and AVRS
dispatched to Bayome out of harm's
way. There, among gayer scenes, he
soon forgot Fleurette ; but her feelings
were not so transient. On his return,
the first glimpse poor Fleurette got of
her royal lover was when he was toying
with a beautiful wanton of the court.
Recalled to his recollections, he makes
poor Fleurette a visit, urges an inter-
view at the old spot : and when he comes,
he finds a letter, which bade him by the
fountain seek her —

To the fountain he led on,

To the b.isin cut in stone .

He hath plunged into the water,

In his arms he hath caught her —

He supports her on the bank,

Shading back her tresses dank ;

Printing fast the frenzied kiss

On a cheek — no longer his, &c.
The Present State of Australia, by R.
Dawson, Esq. — Inundated with books
about Australia as we have been of late,
scarcely any of them notice the natives.
The subject is a point of interest with
none of them ; and one might suppose
the continent almost bare of inhabitants,
if it were not previously a known fact,
that they have been met with on almost
every part of the coast, and in the inte-
rior, as far as it has been visited. The
truth is, the greater portion of those
who communicate on the subject of
Australia are connected with Sidney,
and know nothing of the natives, except
from seeing a few now and then prowl-
ing in the streets in a state of the most
deplorable misery. Mr. Dawson hap-
pily supplies the deficiency. The study
of human nature in its wild and untu-
tored state, he confesses, is his hobby,
and certainly few men have had more
opportunities, or made a better use of
them than himself. He visited Austra-
lia as the chief agent of the Australian
Agricultural Company, accompanied by
seventy or eighty persons — men, wo-
men, and children — and some hundreds
of Merino sheep, to colonize the grant
of a million of acres taken by the Com-
pany. He pitched his tent at Port
Stephen's, about 120 miles north of Sid-
ney by water, but considerably more
over the hills, and spent three years in
prosecuting the Company's views — suc-
cessfully upon the whole, though baffled
by interested persons, arid finally com-
pelled to abandon the concern. He has
published his complaints in a separate
pamphlet, and abstains almost wholly
from the annoying subject in the vo-
lume before us. This is dedicated main-
ly to his intercourse with the natives,
and very ample materials he furnishes
for a full estimate of them. Though

neglecting, entirely, nothing that is re-
lative to Australia, this, the condition
and character of the natives, is the prin-
cipal topic.

Among his official duties, the first was
that of choosing the spot for the Com-
pany's grant, which induced the neces-
sity' of exploring the country to a con-
sid'erable extent, and this again brought
him in contact with many tribes of the
natives besides those who were in con-
stant attendance on them, and may be
said to be in his service. At Port Ste-
phen's, too, the natives mingled with
the colonists, and, to the number of two
or three hundred sometimes, were ex-
ceedingly useful to the new settlers.
Mr Dawson found them generally do-
cile, fond of being employed, proud of
being trusted, and faithful to their en-
gagements — but disliking restraint.
They were like children, and only to be
governed like children ; and, like chil-
dren too, more impressible by kindness
than severity. He ate, drank, and
danced with them— made no invidious
distinctions — treated them ostensibly as
the whites — employed them — trusted
them — kept his word to the letter — and
protected them from insults and inju-
ries. His influence over them was un-
bounded. But with all this, Mr. Dawson
has no hopes of their being reclaimed to
the habits of society— they are happy as
they are — their wants are few, and, in
a climate so bland, readily supplied.
Their contact with the colonists is pro-
ductive of nothing but mischief. The
colonists, and the convicts, will treat
them with scorn, and, with people sin-
gularly sensitive, this prompts to re-
venge. They cannot, again, resist
spirits. Over their appetites indeed
they have little control ; they will stuff
kangaroo till they can absolutely swal-
low no more, which of course indisposes
them to exertion, and disables them.

" What a set of lazy beggars they
are," said one of the w'hite men to his
companions. — " Ah !" said another, " one
white man is worth a dozen of them."
This is just the language which is fre-
quently held by ignorant and bigoted
people, even of a different class and
higher pretensions. They forget we
are all creatures of habit. " Until men
learn," adds Mr. Dawson, " to distin-
guish between the force of habit and
what they call the nature of the people, it
is in vain to expect fair play for beings
whom they imagine they have a right to
speak of, and to treat as brutes, because
they do not act like Europeans, and ma-
nifest an unwillingness to yield up a life
of liberty in such a climate," &c. The
natives will stay with the whites only
so long as the novelty lasts, and their
situation is rendered agreeable. Can
more than this be expected ?

1)4

Monthly Review of Literature,

[JAN,

Nowhere have savages been found so
independent. They appear to have 1:0
chieftains— no mention was ever made
of one. "Each tribe is divided into in-
dependent families, which inhabit in
common a district within certain limits,
gv iK-rally not exceeding above ten or
twelve miles on any side. The num-
bers of each tribe vary very much, be-
ing greater on the coast, where they
sometimes amount to two or three hun-
dred ; " and I have known them," says
Mr. Dawson, " in other quarters not to
exceed a hundred." They have been
charged with cannibalism ; but Mr.
Dawson's inquiries and experience did
not confirm this report. The natives
who mingle with the whites know our
feelings on this point, and generally
charge their enemies with it — but that
is, apparently, to increase the odium.
When pressed closely, though persist-
ing in tne charge, they end with — " all
black pellow been say so, massa." It
has been said, also, they eat dogs in a
state of putridity, and drink stagnant
water ; but Mr. Dawson never saw them
eat flesh of any kind uncooked, though
not to the state which we call done ;
and as to putrid kangaroos, he has seen
them reject them with looks and ges-
tures of abhorrence — the same with fish,
dead on the shore. Of a Deity, in one
sense of the term, Mr. Dawson, with all
his inquiries, could not discover they
have any conception. Of a Devil, or evil
spirit of the woods, they have one, called
Coen, who sometimes steals the natives,
find carries them into the woods and
kills them. What becomes of them
when they die ? Go to' England, and
come back white. When Mr. Dawson
told there was a .900^ spirit as well as a
bad, and that he controlled the bad
one, and protected them and their wives
and children — tc No, massa, no — nossing
at all about it — nossing at all about it."
Thunder and lightning they attribute
to the same bad spirit, who was angry,
and came to frighten them. When the
Storm abated, they tossed up their heads,
and hooted at the dispersing clouds, and
clapped their hands, exclaiming— " black
pellow tend him away toon, massa."

We recommend Mr. Dawson's book
very heartily to our readers, in full con-
fidence that they will find it full of
interest.

The Sea-Kings, by the Author of " The
Fall of Nineveh.'" 3 vols. I2mo. — Lite-
rature becomes one vast ocean of ro-
mance— it assimilates and absorbs every
topic. First or last it is the resort, or
the refuge, of scribblers of all classes.
It is the field where the tyro fleshes his
sword, and where the veteran finally
sheathes it. And, after all, novel-writing
is the surest card that can be played. If

you can but get hold of a popular pub-
lisher, you are sure to be read by some-
body, and the chance is not small of be-
ing so by every body. The poet finds
he may write till his fingers and his
heart ache — nobody reads"; while pub-
lishers shrink at the sight, and well they
may, for nobody buys. There is, in
short, too large a" stock already on hand,
and good poetry, unluckily, never wears
out. For any more to find a market, it
must not only be as good as the old,
but be fresh in material, and new in the
fashion of its texture : mere refacci-
menti, and amplifications of the old,
will not take or sell ; and what else is
the mass of current poetry ? The au-
thor of The Fall of Nineveh — two goodly
volumes of versification— of splendid and
gorgeous description — a congeries of bat-
tles and jousts, of feasts and festivals —
with pieces, nevertheless, of pathos and
energy, which at a more propitious pe-
riod, or rather when things of the sort
were newer and scarcer, would have
borne him up on the wings of immortali-
ty— now wisely betakes himself, as every
body else does, who must write or die,
to romance. He has chosen the histo-
rical, and there he is wise too, for it
saves, or it helps invention. In the re-
gions of history, a frame-work is always
at hand ready-made, and there are few
who cannot, rough or smooth, fill up an
outline.

The period selected by the author of
The Fall of Nineveh, is the age of Al-
fred, and the main event his defeat of
Guthrun, with the expulsion of the Sea-
kings from his hereditary kingdom of
Wessex. With these Sea-kings — the
Danish chiefs — the reader of English
history was first familiarized, we be-
lieve, by Mr. Sharon Turner. Our po-
pular historians scarcely notice anything
before the Normans. 'The sons of Kiut-
yer, a furious sea-king, who had been
barbarously murdered by Ella of Nor-
thumberland, ravaged almost the whole
country, in revenge for the death of
their father. A party, headed by Hub-
bo, one of them, burnt Croyland-abbey,
and massacred old and young — a scene in
which the boy Edmund, the future hero
of the piece, makes his frrst appearance.
The 'child is father of the man,' and op-
poses his capture with a desperate cour-
age, that shews what he will prove, and
the stock he springs from, for he turns
out to be the nephew of Alfred ; but
that nobody knows, except an elderly
monk, who passes for his parent. The
brave little hero is rescued from the
brutal Plubbo by Sidroc, another sea-
king, a little more human ; but in vain
are all the fondlings and coaxings of the
queen and young princess, nothing can
conciliate him, and he finally escapes
into the woods. There, by good lucK,

1831.J

and Foreign.

he finds the old monk, who now convevs
him to a priory in the west, where lie
pursues his education. In the neigh-
bourhood lie, in time, makes the ac-
quaintance of two formidable Thanes,
and with one is all but domiciliated.
As he grows up, being a very fine fel-
low, he excites the jealousy of the son
of one of his friends, an unlicked and
malignant cub, who plots his ruin ; but
in the meanwhile, he wins the affections
of the other Thane's daughter. Both
events are equally untoward — for he
loses the friendship of both his patrons,
and is driven to prowl over the country
in search of adventures and his bread.
Thus roaming, however, he has the high
good fortune to fall in with Alfred, then
himself at hide-and-seek at the cottage,
where, as every body knows, he burnt
the good-woman's cakes. Alfred takes
to the youth mightily, discovers him-
self ami his present projects, and dis-
patches him on confidential messages to
the queen at Glastonbury. While Al-
fred is quietly collecting his friends,
news arrives of Hubbo's invasion in the
neighbourhood of Exeter, and Edmund
is again confidentially employed to visit
the enemy's camp before Exeter. In
an action which follows a sally from the
garrison, Edmund has the satisfaction of
killing Hubbo, his old mortal enemy, in
fair fight, and the still greater one of
rescuing Sidroc, his old friend, and also
the queen and the princess, though not
without considerable risk, and even some
imputation on his loyalty. He, how-
ever, ventures every thing to accom-
plish his purpose, and resolves to trust
to Alfred's generous construction of the
act. In full confidence that Alfred will
listen to his justification, he pushes for-
ward with all speed, and arrives just in
time to take part in the decisive battle
with Guthrun, where he again performs
prodigies of valour. On the field, to
his pleasure, he is welcomed by Alfred,
and, to his surprise, by all his old ac-
quaintance, even by the father of his
lovely Elfreda — for the secret is out ;
he is known to be Alfred's nephew, and
nobody of course has a word of blame or
reproach to cast at him.

The tale wants interest miserably ;
but the details are often admirably
told; nor are there any very recog-
nizable blunders in point of manners,
costumes, or facts. The author makes
a gallant and a successful defence,
on historical grounds, of King Alfred,
against certain historians who have
flippantly talked of his early inert-
ness. But this is just the part, though
a good deal laboured, that nobody will
read — nothing of the sort is ever" read
in a story, and writers might as well
save their labour.

The Progress of Society, ly tlie late Ro-
bert Hamilton, LL.D., <§c., of Aberdeen. —
Dr. Hamilton, the professor of mathe-
matics at the Mareschal College for forty
years, who died a year or two ago in his
}J7th year — though of some celebrity in
his own circle ana among his own pupils,
and as remarkable latterly for his habitu-
al fits of mental absence as for his learn-
ing, can scarcely be regarded as known
to the public by any thing but his work
on the National Debt and Sinking Fund
— a work which, though anticipated in
all its useful points some time before by
Cobbett, and before him by Paine, yet,
coming from a more respectable quarter,
made a deep impression upon the public,
and, what has been all in all in this coun-
try, upon the aristocratic portion of that
public. The publication before us — The
Progress of Society — conveys nothing
new, in fact or in principle, but still
consists of some manly and sensible
sketches of the doctor's opinions on a
number of topics usually classed under
the head of political economy. The cha-
racteristics of the volume are plainness
and independence — with less of system
than one expects from a Scotch profes-
sor, and a greater reliance upon common
sense — on the glance of natural shrewd-
ness cast through the mazes of puzzled
discussions. Among the most remark-
able is his chapter on Itent, in which he
discusses what is usually, we believe,
considered as llicardo's doctrine, en-
forced by Mill and Macculloch, but
which was originally propounded by
Dr. Anderson of Edinburgh, some years
before either of them wrote at all. Ac-
cording to these same learned Thebans,
all mathematicians or as bad — bad,
we mean, for any deduction not depend-
ing wholly upon figures — rent is the
sheer result of the difference of quality
in lands. The worst land in cultivation
governs the whole, and that affords no
rent. All of superior quality furnishes
some, and in proportion to its supe-
riority. The worst land in cultivation
just clears its expences ; and of the rest,
the difference between the expences and
the produce is rent. Of course, if all
lands were of equal fertility, there would
be no rent at all. But, in fact, differ-
ence of quality constitutes only one ele-
ment of the rent ; the whole depends
upon numerous considerations. The pro-
position, however, of the economists
includes all, while the proof includes
only a part. The rational view of the
question is, that rent is the portion of
the produce paid by the cultivator to
the owner for the use of the land, which
is always as much as the landlord can
force the tenant to pay without ruining
the land ; and this seems to be Dr.
Hamilton's conclusion.

Mu)ilh/y Keviwv oj 'Literature,

[.TAN.

A much more interesting conoid -ra-
tion, however, at this moment is, that
besides the landlord and his tenant,
there is a third party to be taken into
the account — the labourer. He cannot,
Avith any justice, be left out, and under
the existing poor laws, he must not be
left out, though both landlord and tenant
might wish to exclude him. Things
cannot longer be left to themselves ; the
landlord has given up the labourer to
the tenant ; but it is his duty, and to
stimulate him to the discharge of it, he
finds it now to be his interest — to pro-
tect the labourer \vho cannot help him-
self but by violence, and to leave the
tenant Avho can to his own remedies.
Jf the tenant can no longer control and
grind the labourer, he Avill demand and
force a reduction of rent. Oh ! crv the
economists, you can do nothing; If la-
bour abounds, it must be cheap ; and the
loAvest labourer must be in the lowest
condition. That may be true— but that
lowest condition must not be one of
starvation ; and more must and Avill be
yielded up by both landlord and tenant.

But, after all, labour does not in rea-
lity superabound to the extent alleged.
Much of the evil is traceable to the
enormous size of farms, and the want of
capital in one person's hands for high
or even common farming. The conse-
quence is, fewer labourers are employed.
If farms of a thousand acres Avere split
into five of two hundred each, compe-
tent capitals would readily be found for
each, where one for the whole cannot ;
and double the number of labourers
Avould be profitably employed.

On the question of tithes, which Dr.
Hamilton discusses at length, he is not
so sound, because he is not so well in-
formed. He was a Scotchman, and
knew nothing about English tithing,
and books are of little use in practical
matters of any kind. He concludes —
" tithes fall on the proprietors chiefly,
if not entirely." This is never Avholly
true, because tithes are taken on the
produce, and not on the rent. Besides,
if it Avere true with respect to great
tithes, it cannot be with the small tithes
— equally annoying. Most of the land
is cultivated by farmers, by tenants we
mean ; and none get land g'ratis. Itent
forms an item in the expense of cultiva-
tion, and so does tithe ; and both must
be paid, Avith the rest of the expences,
by the consumer. If the land be tithe-
free, the tenant pays more rent, and still
the consumer gains nothing; nor when
titheable does the landlord suffer.

The chapters on Distribution and
Equalization of Wealth - Population —
Paper Currency — Commerce, are all
well discussed, and remarkable for dis-
tinctness in the statements.

Family Llnrttni •-- //•;/<• '.;/' Ilntce, lj;j
Major F. U. jfca<f — In nolhiug h:;:> our
acquaintance with facts augmented more
remarkably than Avith respect to the ha-
bits of foreign countries. Half a century
ago, only, any extraordinary occurrence
Avas set down without ceremony as a
traveller's tale; and such a caricature
as Munchausen was relished as an ad-
mirable satire — called for by the licence
of travellers, and calculated to check
their intolerable indulgences. To such
a pitch had grown this distrust — begun
Avith reason, but ending with none —
that but few had pluck enough to tell
of facts at once novel and singular ;
— Dr. Shaw was afraid to tell the
AA'orld boldly in his narrative, that he
had seen M'oors eat lions' flesh, though
he ventured to hint at the matter in his
appendix. But none perhaps — since the
days of Mendez Pinto, and he proves
not to have been a " liar of the mag-
nitude" Shakspeare makes him — fared
worse than Bruce. He had visited a
strange country — quite unknown to
Englishmen — he had many extraordi-
nary things to tell — he was of too bold,
perhaps of too vaunting a spirit, to with-
hold any of his wonders — he dared the
world's laugh of ignorance, and Avas uni-
versally scouted. Dr. Johnson froAvned
(this must have been at the reports of
Bruce's confidents) ; Peter Pindar mock-
ed, and multitudes of others Avho had ne-
ver left the chimney corner, joined in the
general derision. Even later, many who
from their own experience might have
known better, retained their home pre-
judices, and laboured to confirm, what
they were of themselves all but able
effectually to confute. Lord Valentia,
on his return to India, coming up the
lied Sea, stopped at the port of Masuah
— even he cavilled about Bruce's want oi
correctness, and doubted if he had ever
been down to the Straits of Babelman-
del ; while his OAvn Captain, Avho might
be supposed to be as good a judge of the
matter, adopted Bruce's observations,
because he had uniformly found them
correct. By the aid of his telescopes,
Lord Valencia descried the mountains of
Abyssinia, and upon the strength of this
distant vieAv, announced in the\itle-page
of his book his traA^els in Abyssinia,
and had the temerity to question Bruce's
veracity. Mr. Salt, his secretary, it is
true, made tAvo attempts to reach the
capital of Abyssinia, but did not get
more than half way ; and even he, to
please his superior apparently, sneers
at Bruce's " falsehood and exaggera-
tion ;" and though subsequent informa-
tion substantiated Bruce in numerous
particulars, he never had the manliness
to justify the man he had helped to
calumniate. Clarke, Belzoni, and the

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

97

officers of Sir David Baird's expedition,
with many others, recently, bear testi-
mony to Bntce*s correctness on the Red
Sea, tend within the sphere of their ob-
servation. Into the heart of Abyssinia
nobody has penetrated but Pearce, the
sailor, and Coffin, a boy in Lord Va-
lentia's service. Pearce returned to
Cairo in 1818, and wrote an account,
drawn up under the auspices of his old
patron, and printed in the Transactions
of the Literary Society at Bombay.
Coffin returned to London only about
three years ago, and has been in com-
munication with Major Head ; and both
Pearce and Coffin confirm many of
the more extraordinary circumstances.
Others were of a nature not to occur to
every body — not to say that changes in
forty or fifty years may occur there as
well as here.

Major F. B. Head— of galloping no-
toriety along the Pampas of South Ame-
rica— has compressed the contents of
Bruce's seven quartos within the com-
pass of one of Mr. Murray's nice little
volumes — something stouter than usual
— and has entered zealously into a de-
fence of Bruce's general veracity. The
man was manifestly high-spirited, and
above the paltry lies attributed to him.
Major Head himself is no'stranger to
foreign and tropical scenes ; and the bet-
ter able to estimate the descriptions of
others. He has made a very agreeable
narrative, and one fit to be put into any
body's hands — Bruce himself was not
fastidious. Though not very precise
ourselves in matters of mere language,
we must protest against Major Head's
freedoms — he is much too familiar— he
indulges occasionally in the colloquial,
till his phrases are sheer slang, and his
sentiments the flippancy of a boy. A tra-
veller and a soldier is not required to be
intimate with literary history, but if he
does venture into such quarters, he should
make due inquiries before he enters —
he should reconnoitre at least. John-
son, it is very well known, translated Lo-
bo the Jesuit's Travels into Abyssinia,
very early in life, and in the preface, he
commends Lobo, ore rotundo, for his mo-
dest and unaffected narrative — 'he meets
with no Basilisks that destroy with their
eyes ; his crocodiles devour their prey
without tears, and his cataracts fall from
the rocks without deafening the neigh-
bouring inhabitants.' These, Major
Head tells us, these round rigmarole
phrases were rolled against Bruce ; —
but Bruce's books were not published
till after Johnson's death, and Johnson
wrote his preface fifty years before, with
a very different class of travellers in his
eye.

Conversations of James Northcote, Esq.,
R.A., by William Hazlitt.— This is as
MM. New Series VOL. XI. No. 61.

amusing a volume as anything of the
kind since Boswell's, and shews either
how much better Northcote can talk
than write, or what a capital reporter
Hazlitt made — it is one of the best
things he ever accomplished. The con-
versations are between Northcote and
Hazlitt, where Northcote plays first
fiddle ; and though Hazlitt occasionally
puts forward his own sentiments, always
worth attending to, he is for the most
part either listener or pumper. Of
course they are the pith .of the talk,
but the mode of reporting gives them
an air of literal reality; even when dis-
cussions occur, they 'are obviously col-
loquial, and not beyond the extempore
effusions of intelligent men, of frank
habits, and a free tongue. Painting,
literature, and character, form the sta-
ple ; but there occurs much of another
caste — the results of a long life in the
world — the maxims of his personal ex-
perience. Northcote takes a tone of
superiority, to which his age entitles
him ; but every thing he says is stamped
sterling by good sense, directness of
purpose, and a love of plain-speaking.
We had marked some passages by way
of specimen of the manner, and as a
taste of the quality ; but they will tell
better each in its place ; and to the book
we refer any reader whose curiosity we
may have excited.

Constable's Miscellany. — War of Inde-
pendence in Greece. Vol. I. By Thomas
Keightley, Esq. — Events of nearer in-
terest, and affecting larger masses of
people, for the last few months, have
thrown the Greeks and their affairs com-
pletelv into the shade. Scarcely a syl-
lable lias been heard about them since
Prince Leopold — with other prospects in
view, perhaps — refused a sceptre which
the Greeks would never have allowed him
to wield, and which the president must
desire to retain in his own keeping. Nor
will Capo find it difficult, we take it, to
deter any future competitor. The Eu-
ropean powers are little likely to enforce
their orders with their swords — they
will have occasion for them elsewhere —
and the Turks have not vigour enough
to seize the tempting opportunity pre-
sented by the times, for recovering their
authority- The struggle for command
will thus be confined to the Greeks them-
selves. In the meanwhile the War of
Independence is over, and any body may
write its history. Abundance of mate-
rials is afloat in the writings of English,
French, and Greeks, and sonje common
sense is all that is wanted to balance
opposing biases and conflicting state-
ments. Information is yet attainable
from living sources, and many obstacles
are now removed, which some time ago
stood in the wav of a fair estimate of the

O

98

Monthly Review of Literature,

[JAN.

whole affair. The conduct and charac-
ters of 'the chief agents may be readily
measured. The hotter patrons of the
Greeks have long since cooled, and the
Turks on their side, since they could not
maintain their own authority, have lost
most of their admirers. More than one
writer is engaged in the task, and those,
too, personally acquainted with the
scene — Mr. Keightly is not ; but he is
beforehand with his' volume. Whether
he will keep possession of the field the
merits of his competitors will determine.
It will not be easy to surpass him in
industry, as to the collecting of mate-
rials ; rior difficult to class them with
more effect. It is true, that though the
field of action was small, the forces em-
ployed were widely scattered — the
points of activity numerous and little
connected — the chiefs independent and
transient— and at no time was there a
commander -in-chief to concentrate the
interest ; but, nevertheless, there must
be fewer details and more general views,
if the historian of the war expects to be
read. The attention is distracted — me-
mory confounded — one impression is
driven out by another for the want of more
skilful linking. At the present rate of
march, too, the thing will be intermin-
able. The explosion commenced only
in March, 1821, and the narrative ad-
vances scarcely beyond the capture of
Tripolitza in the following October.
Too large a portion of the volume is
occupied with the story of Ali Pasha,
and especially his conquest of the Sou-
liotes — a very interesting tale, and well
told, but what has it to do with the
Greek war ? It was not till the very
last year of his atrocious reign — when
the revolt had already begun — that Ali
allied himself with the Greeks — and such
were his own embarrassments, that he
can scarcely be said to have had any in-
fluence on the fortunes of the war. Mr.
Keightley's account of the attempt of
1770 — encouraged by the Russians, and
basely abandoned by them— is more to
the purpose. The condition of the
Greek population under the tyranny of
the Turks ; the formation, again, of the
Hetairia— a society instituted among
the more cultivated Greeks for the re-
covery of independence — the story of its
leading members — the state also of the is-
lands engaged in the carrying trade of the
Mediterranean through the revolution-
ary wars of France — these all are pro-
perly preparatory matters, and are, in
general, well described. The first year
of the war was, doubtless, the most
active ; and it will probably be found
easier to concatenate the events of the
succeeding campaigns, to the unques-
tionable improvement of the work in
point of effect. If the writer desires to
be read, he must take a tetter measure

of his readers' patience— their powers
of endurance. Classing events, too, is
one thing — stringing tliein, like beads,
another ; the first is history, the other
memoir-writing.

Since the notice, above, of 'Mr. Keight-
ley's first volume was written, the se-
cond has been published, in which, to
the sacrifice of all proportion in the de-
tails, he completes his History of the
War. Nearly up to the fall of Misso-
longhi he prosecutes the subject in the
spirit of his first volume, leading the
reader a dance round all points of the
compass by sea and by land — fighting,de-
bating, plotting, in eternal alternations
— and plunging from one topic to ano-
ther in contempt of all concatenation.
Too many names by half are introduced
both of places and persons, but espe-
cially of persons. The very subalterns
are all enumerated, when, of course, the
attention should be fixed upon the lead-
ing and influential personages, and the
more prominent events. From the fall
of Missolonghi — compelled plainly by
the circumscription of his pages and the
commands of his employers — every thing
is suddenly all huddled together, and
wound up with some rambling rhetoric
about Mr. Canning and his classics. Yet,
generally, the writer's judgment — shewn
in the selection of authorities, and the
estimate he forms on characters and
events — is sound enough ; but, unlucki-
Iv, he began to write before he had
digested his materials He had no bird's
eye view of the whole, or he would have
better discerned the points, and con-
nected the events. There would have
been something like a stream, and now
there is nothing but broken rills and
isolated pools.

Constable'1 s Miscellany, Vols. 57, 58, and
59. — These volumes of Constable's Mis-
cellany are filled with Bourienne's Me-
moirs of Bonaparte — the character of
which is generally, we believe, estimated
as highly to the very fullest as they
deserve. A great parade has been made
by the author's friends, and especially
publishers, who are, by the way, the
great misleaders of the literary world —
about this Bourienne's extraordinary
opportunities of information, and with
some reason as to certain periods in Na-
poleon's earlier career. But it is not
sufficiently borne in mind that Bouri-
enne never even saw him but twice after
his dismissal in 1802. He was employed,
it is true, afterwards but that was at
Hamburgh, and his very correspon-
dence was, of course, wholly with the
minister. Yet no difference is obser-
vable in Bourienne's tone from the
beginning to the end — he is as well
informed at one period as at another —
as peremptory as to what could be only

Domestic and Foreign.

99

hearsay, as about his own personal
knowledge. We have already had a
translation, and the name of the new
translator cannot, that we know of, have
any weight. Assurances, however, are
given in the preface of extensive re-
searches on the part of Mr. M ernes,
employed in comparing the statements
of the last volume, especially with the
evidence to be obtained from the works
of others, and with information col-
lected, in many instances, on the spot.
Much fuss is made about these re-
searches— they are even assigned as the
ground of some unusual delay in the
periodical publication. " Such investi-
gations require time ;" — doubtless, they
do, and the common result of such re-
searches is something beyond a general
assurance — a bare testimony, that
" never was a more veracious historian
than Bourienne." The translation is
not at all superior to the old one, which
by mere chance we happened to read —
it is even fuller of Gallicisms and mis-
conceptions. Liberties, too, are taken
with the original text by both parties,
which, of course, depreciates the value
of both. The reader, who recurs to
translations, requires, like a judge in a
court of justice, the writer's sentiments,
his ii'hole sentiments, and nothing but his
sentiments ; and we are quite sure
neither translation will answer these
demands.

Edinburgh Cabinet Library. VoL I. —
Competition in book-making, as Paine
said of paper money, is strength in the
beginning, and weakness in the end. It
begets a few good articles to begin with,
but by overstocking the market, quickly
terminates in monopolies, and monopo-
lies, of course, in idleness and deterio-
ration. All these libraries, as the
publishers style them, can never find a
market. Murray, and Lardner, and
Constable, have got possession — the rest
must go. The first volume of the
Edinburgh presents a fair sketch of the
different attempts that have been made
to traverse the Polar Seas, from the
days of poor Sir Hugh Willoughby to our
own — but not superior, and scarcely
equal, to a similar sketch in the Cabinet
Cyclopaedia — perhaps, however, by the
same Hugh Murray. He seems to hold
a patent for the execution of these sub-
jects—he is every where, with his name
or without it. Two Scotch professors of
authority discuss the climate and geo-
logy of the polar regions, and Hugh
Murray has had his own chapter on
zoology overhauled by some other
doughty professor — so that the volume
is quite a pic-nic concern. Too many
cooks, they say, spoil the broth, and we
are sure both the climate and the geo-
logy are defective for want of data, or

to prosecute the metaphor, of ingre-
dients. The volume is handsomely ^ot
up; and the series is to be occupied
solely with realities, in contradiction to
works of fiction, on which the editor
sarcastically includes history and bio-
graphy, and especially that of statesmen,
or we misunderstand the prospectus.
The publishers do not .subject them-
selves to the mechanical necessity — base
mechanics — of a monthly periodical
issue. We scarcely expect to hear of
them again.

By the way, it grows late to hope for
Captain lioss's return this season.

Family Library. Dramatic Series.
Vol. II. — After a long delay — not occa-
sioned, apparently, by any arduous la-
bours on the part of the editor— we have
a second volume of Massinger, embrac-
ing the Duke of Milan, the City Ma-
dam, and the Picture, with but little
mutilation, together with a couple of
acts of the Unnatural Combat, and a
scene or two of the Roman Actor. The
Unnatural Combat is curtailed, " as
notwithstanding very forcible and elo-
quent passages, the tenor of the inci-
dents is offensive and disgusting, and
every reader of good taste and feeling
will be thankful for being spared the pevu-
sal of them"— which is a sort of Irish con-
ception, for it, in fact, implies a perusal ,•
and if it did not, cannot readers be suf-
fered to judge for themselves^ and throw
the book aside, when the subject really
gives offence and disgust ? The Roman
Actor is still more curtailed of its pro-
portions, and with less reason — "the
main plot is unpleasing, and the piece
has the air of detached scenes," and so
the editor resolved to give it the reality,
and print scarcely one-fifth of it. Ac-
cording to the original prospectus, in.
decorum — and the sense of the word is
specific enough— was to be the sole ground
of omission ; but now the offensive, the
disgusting, the unpleasing, and even the
unskilful, all very indefinite terms, are
new causes for clipping. By the way,
the editor must have been napping when
he suffered a passage in the Picture,
page 356, to be reprinted — it is as coarse
as" any thing that has been cut out.
The few notes are generally Gifford's.
The editor gives one of his own upon
the word petard — thus, "i. 0., an engine,
containing gunpowder, used in blowing
up towns ." In the same speech occurs
basiliscos, which is left unnoticed, though
certainly a term less familiar than pe-
tard ;— it is better to be silent than to
blunder.

Divines of the Church of England, by
Isaac Barrow — Of all the indefatigable
men our literary annals can furnisn,
none ever came near to Isaac Barrow.

100

Monthly Review of Literature.

[JAN.

But the most remarkable point about
him was the elasticity of his intellect.
It is a perfect marvel that his imagi-
nation was not smothered beneath the
mass and weight of his acquisitions —
had he studied others less, and trusted
more to his own resources, he had been
a Milton. Though dying at forty-
seven, he was successively eminent,
among eminent cotemporaries, as a
scholar (in the university sense), a ma-
thematician, a theologian. He has left
proofs of extensive acquirement in each
department, though making no disco-
veries, nor in any shape enlarging the
borders of science, system, or criticism.
Of his command of the Latin language,
his communications to his college, dur-
ing his tour, which extended to Con-
stantinople, in prose and verse, afford
ample testimony; and as to Greek, he
was appointed professor, on the special
recommendation of the very learned
Duport, who had been driven from the
office for political reasons, and might
have been replaced at the Restoration.

publis

tion of Euclid, and a volume on Optics,
which was not quite useless to Newton.
Of his theology, the dissertation on po-
pery is evidence enough ; it attests his
labour, if not his skill, in polemics ;
while his sermons are still read for their
eloquence by those who care nothing for
the topics, nor the spirit which ani-
mated their excellent, and amiable, and
harmless author. Charles called him an
unfair preacher, for he left nothing for
any body else to say — which marks, hap-
pily enough, the wit of the speaker, and
the peculiarity of the preacher.

Born in 1630, of a good family, on
both sides, though his father was a man
of business in the City, Barrow was
educated at the Charter-house, Felsted,
and Trinity, Cambridge, of which he
became a fellow, immediately after tak-
ing his bachelor's degree. After spend-
ing some years on the continent, with
very straitened means, he returned to
England at the Restoration, when he
took orders — was successively Greek and
mathematical professor ; and, in 1G72,
master of his college — a situation which
he held but five years — with a modesty
and moderation singularlv contrasted
with Bentley, whose contentious pro-
pensities have so recently been brought
to our notice by Bishop Monk's intelli-
gent biography. Barrow was wholly a
man of letters, and his sermons — by
which he is now best known — have more
of the speculations of a recluse than
knowledge of life and manners. He
talks rather of what may by possibility
—judging from given characteristics of
men — influence mankind, than what no-

toriously does — what men of experience
expect to meet with, and rarely miss.
He is rather amu ing and amazing than
useful — clever and dazzling than pre-
cise or skilful — the target is filled with
his arrows, but few or none will be found
in the bull's eye, or indeed very near
it.

The Classical Library, Vols. X. and
XI. — Of this cheap, and, beyond all
cavil, useful series of translations of the
classics, one of the volumes before us
contains Pindar and Anacreon — new ver-
sions of them. Of the former volumes
the translations were old ones, and we
have been disposed to grumble at some
of them, not at their not being the best
possible, but at their not being the best
attainable. This was strictly the_ case
with Herodotus. Beloe's is a pitiful
performance— it is full of misapprehen-
sions. Beloe had what is called Greek
enough, that is, he could construe his
author so far as his lexicon enabled him,
but he had not brains to comprehend
him. He had no notion of simplicity,
and wanted common sense to catch the
meaning of a man eminent for the pos-
session of that valuable quality. If he
even got scent of his author, he was
always in danger of losing it in chace of
a phrase. Isaac Taylor's version, pub-
lished two or three years ago, would
have been an ornament to the series ;
he has generally caught the plain sense
of Herodotus, and for the most part
conveyed it successfully and forcibly,
without any of the frippery of superflu-
ous verbiage.

Mr. Wheelwright's Pindar is obvi-
ously superior to West's, and is indeed,
upon the whole, as effective as any ver-
sion is ever likely to be, though it is
easy to conceive a better. He has fol-
lowed the example set by Heber in an
ode or two, in rejecting the form of
strophes and antistrophes, and breaking
the whole into paragraphs. The pre-
vailing fault is mcumbrance of words.
More terseness of phrase, and vivacity
of manner would have brought the ver-
sion nearer the characteristics of the
original. But every thing is against a
successful version of Pindar. The very
topics find no sympathy in the poetical
associations of Englishmen. No racing
in the world can ennoble sentiment or
illustrate morals. Steeds and drivers
are unused among us to the stilted eulo-
giums of ancient days ; nor uncoupled
with divinities, as they are with us,
can they sustain the solemnity of even
serious description. The first half-dozen
lines is a fair specimen. The original is
—Water is the best (liquor, apparently),
and gold is as conspicuous among noble
wealth (metals) as glowing fire in the
night (darkness).

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

101

itely the degree of expansion, the tour-
ure, and unluckily the languor of the

Water with purest virtue flow* ;
And as the fires' resplendant litfht
Dispels the murky gloom of ni)srht,
The meaner treasures of the mine
With undistinguished lustre shine,
Where gold irradiate glows.

These few lines measure pretty accu-
rat
nure,
whole.

Anacreon's pieces are short, and
better submit to a paraphrastic ver-
sion. Mr. Bourne is often felicitous
enough.

The eleventh volume contains a por-
tion of Tacitus — a reprint of Murphy's
translation — certainly one of the most
readable versions of a Latin author we
have. Hejfgenerally hits the sense, but
he does it mainly by doubling the
phrases, and certainly nobody ever got
over difficulties with more dexterity.

Serious Poems, comprising the Church-
yard, Village Sabbath, Deluge, fyc., by
Mrs. Thomas. — This is a neat collection
of moral and reflective poems, written,

we are assured in a very unpretending
preface, for the amusement and instruc-
tion of the author's family, and without
any view to publication. It will be
readily imagined that in compositions
originating in such a feeling, a more
than usual amount of carelessness must
be discerned ; we accordingly find in
this volume passages which would have
been much improved by a little thought
and labour, and lines that would cer-
tainly have pleased us better if the mu-
sic had been attended to as well as the
moral. The principal point, however,
in works designed in a great measure, as
this is, for the perusal of the young, is
to be unexceptionable in point of feeling
and sentiment ; and here Mrs. Thomas
exhibits no want of care or correctness,
having scrupulously omitted every thing
that could offend the taste of the most
fastidious reader. The longer poems,
such as the Deluge, &c., are evidently
the first productions of a pious and well-
intentioned mind — some of the miscel-
laneous pieces are upon lighter subjects,
and may be more generally approved.

FINE ARTS' PUBLICATIONS.

THE ANNUALS.

WE have already touched upon the
beauties — and they are many — of the
embellishments of the French Keepsake
and the Talisman ,• and we need only
refer to them again by saying, that as
they now lie beneath our eyes, inter-
secting the gilt leaves of these elegant
volumes, and enveloped in all the charms
of green and crimson silk— associated on
the one hand with the best and brightest
names of modern French literature —
and on the other with some of the most
sparkling productions of our own — we
cannot help relishing them a great deal
better than when they first courted our
glances in a portfolio. The literature
and the embellishments shed a mutual

Xupon each other. To the French
ing we would willingly, were it
possible, devote a more extended space ;
it has no inconsiderable portion of the
lighter graces of song and sentiment,
mixed occasionally with more solid pre-
tensions. In many respects it is supe-
rior to most of our own ; and our coun-
trymen— or rather, as it is upon the
ladies, that the annuals must chiefly
rely for justice, our countrywomen —
will best evince their taste and libera-
lity by shewing that they are not slow
to appreciate those of their sprightly and
fascinating neighbours. With respect
to the Talisman, we are at a loss
to discover the trickery which some
critics have detected, in collecting

the most favoured pieces, in prose
and verse, from obscure or forgot-
ten quarters, and bringing them toge-
ther in one bright cluster. Many a
sketch, many a scrap of verse have we
wished to possess — though we scarcely
felt tempted perhaps to buy the volume
that contained one solitary treasure, and
nothing else that we cared for. The
trickery is at least acknowledged, both
in the advertisement and the preface, so
that the purchaser is cheated with his
eyes open. Mrs. Watts has executed
her task very tastefully. There is to us
much that is new even among the selec-
tions ; and if there are one or two pieces
that are too good to have been forgot-
ten, we cannot surely be displeased at
seeing them once more in such a shape
as this — such as the pleasantries from
the Indicator , and others equally fami-
liar to us. It would have been as well
if the original papers had been particu-
larized— but as long as the path be a
pleasant one, we shall never stay to ask
ourselves whether we have trodden it
before ; or if we do, we shall not be less
delighted with it upon that account.

The first of the comic annuals hap-
pens to be the last of them this year.
Mr. Hood has however at length made
his appearance, to the great delight no
doubt of the lovers of good old jokes,
and a few intolerable new ones. In say-
ing that he has nothing to apprehend
from his rivals, we say but nttle for

102

Fine Arts1 Publications.

[JAN.

him — and, indeed, after all, little can be
said. The volume, with three or four
very good points, and twice that number
of passable ones, presents many that are
lamentably poor. A considerable part
of the effect of some of his previous cuts
consisted in the extreme badness of them
— they were neither works of art nor
any thing else ; but they are growing
somewhat better — and, consequently,
worse. Of course we have laughed over
several of them — such as the Eagle
Assurance, the Step Father, London
Fashions for November, and (loud and
continued laughter here) Kirk White-
winch is a fancy portrait of the poet,
the features formed of the Gothic win-
dows of a church, with an ivy wig.
Of the literature, several of the smart
things are in the preface; the Parish
Revolution contains some eccentricities,
bordering upon nonsense ; and Domestic
Asides, not very new in idea, is hu-
morously executed. The best thing of
all, perhaps, is the Ode to N. A.Vigors,
Esq., which is full of point of a peculiar
kind. But we must turn from these to
ask Mr. Hood whether he can possibly
have mistaken the idea of " Picking
your way" — which represents a fellow
hooking another's eye out with a pick-
axe as he passes— for fun ? By what asso-
ciation of ideas are agony and amuse-
ment so frequently identified in his
mind ? We should also be doing Mr.
Hood an injustice if we were not to ex-
press our disgust at another engraving
— " Going it at five knots an hour" —
which exhibits five very comical look-
ing criminals suspended from a gallows,
kicking and struggling of course in the
most facetious and good-humoured way
in the world. We have seen few in-
stances of so depraved a taste, and can
only entertain the charitable surmise
that the author was reduced to the very
dregs of his invention, and had no re-
source but to be either dull or disgust-
ing. He has chosen the greater of the
two evils.

The only name we find in this volume
besides the editor's is that of Miss Isa-
bel Hill, who has contributed a " May
Day Vision" worthy of the day. Mr.
Hood, however, has had assistance in
his cuts, which he has not thought pro-
per to acknowledge. The original of
the vignette on the title-page — The
Merry Thought— we happened to see
some time ago, treated in a spirit so di-
rectly similar, as to induce us to regard
it as something more than a mere coin-
cidence of ideas. To be sure, this is
one onlv out of fifty ; but it is an evi-
dence, if we are correct in our suspi-
cion, of the same principle in Mr. Hood
which he complains of mother people.

The Bengal literati, in order to keep
up with the spirit of the times, have

produced an Annual of their own. It is
edited by Mr. D. 1,. Richardson ; who in
his preface intimates that as India has
not the advantage of the presence of any
professional engraver, " the embellish-
ments of the volume are the friendly
contributions of amateurs." We must
take the editor's word for their being
" far from deficient in taste and spirit"
— the volume before us not happening
to contain an engraving. The list of
contributors is rather numerous, and
comprises several names, besides the
editor's, that are not unknown, if they
cannot boast of being very distinguished
at home. The volume is an interesting
one even to us — at Calcutta it must have
created a sensation. In poiut of type
and paper the annual does credit to tne
Indian press, and is altogether " as well
as could be expected." Some of the
poetry is of a superior character. The
" Scenes of the Seven Ages" is, as far as
we are aware, an original conception,
and in many passages is spiritedly exe-
cuted. The Sketch of British Indian
Literature is interesting; and several
other papers would do honour to a work
that had laboured less under disadvan-
tages of all kinds — for in addition to
other deficiencies, the volume has been
brought forth in haste. We can con-
gratulate the English circle at Bengal
upon the talent that exists in it, and are
glad to see that there are such " livers
out of Britain."

Affection's Offering for 1831, is a pretty
little volume for the young — a book, as
it is called, " for all seasons." It is
adorned with wood-cuts, and promises
some tempting prizes for essays upon
certain subjects, to be written by little
authors under sixteen. This, we be-
lieve, has already been attended with
useful effects. The literature of the
volume is of a pleasing and appropriate
character, by writers whose pens have
frequently yielded both amusement and
instruction to the young mind. At the
head of the list are the names of Mrs.
Hall and Mrs. Opie.

Sketches in Italy, drau-n on Stone by
W. Linton. — This work, handsomely
" got up," will comprise twelve folio
numbers, each of which is to contain
eight drawings, or fac-similes of the
sketches made by Mr. Linton during
his recent tour. The number, amount-
ing to nearly a hundred, as well as the
size, of these sketches, will thus admit of
a complete series of all the most pictu-
resque and interesting views that Ita-
lian landscape can supply. They will
be selected from various parts of the
Piedmont — the Milanese, Roman and
Venetian States — Tuscan}', and Naples.

The artist refers to the unaffected
style of execution in the pencil sketches

1831.]

of Claude, Wilson, and Gainsborough,
in contradistinction to what is called
"• high finish :" and observes that having
adopted a similar style, the most effi-
cient means are afforded of imitating his
sketches, by drawing in lines mi stone
with the lithographic chalk. This plan
he has rendered to a considerable extent
successful ; though we fear that there
are many even among those who are not
infected with a false taste for finish, that
will think these sketches somewhat too
slight or too coarse to admit of the re-
quisite effect. Mr. Linton's observa-
tions are worth looking at — but we must
look to his drawings. The views, we
have no doubt, are well selected, and are
in detail faithful copies of what the art-
ist saw and admired in nature ; but ta-
ken as a whole, they do not convey to
our minds an adequate idea of the va-
riety, loveliness, and luxuriance of
Italian scenery. They are in parts bold
and characteristic — but the effect is not
entire. They are too cold — in short too
sketchy. We like Lugano, San Mar-
tino, Tivoli, and Subiaco, in preference
to one or two of the others— rather per-
haps with reference to the scenes them-
selves than to any superiority iu point of
execution, which is throughout clever ;
but, as we have hinted, calculated ra-
ther to please the lover of this species
of art, than to delight the enamoured
eye of the student of nature.

What a ludicrous contrast to these
sketches are Mr. Cruikshank's new ones
— twelve of them — illustrative of Sir
Walter Scott's Demonology and Witch-
craft. Cruikshank's store of extrava-
gance is inexhaustible; he never fails
to throw his humour into some new
shape or situation, whatever his subject
may be. His last sketches are thus as
original as the first. Whatever he sends
forth, we despair of ever again seeing
anything so irresistible — and we never
do, till he publishes something else.
These are excellent, and are worthy ac-
companiments for Sir Walter. The
" Corps de Ballet"— a gentleman haunt-
ed by his furniture, the backs of his
fashionable chairs taking the semblance
of heads, the chairs themselves dancing
about, and the whole room rolling in a
superabundance of horrors— this is su-
perb. The Spectre Skeleton looking
over the doctor's shoulder, at the foot of
the sick man's bed, comes up to the sub-
ject. Elfin Tricks, and the Persecuted
Butler, are as good. Black John and
the Witches is even better ; the group
of hags is appallingly ludicrous. And
the Witches' Frolic is equal to it, with
the huge undefined figure of the fiend
rolling in the water, and the witches
sailing in their sieves, some on the
waves, some in the air. The book is al-

Fine Arts1 Publications.

103

most too cheap ; it is an amusement for
a long Christmas evening.

One of the most interesting ornitho-
logical works that have hitherto appear-
ea to illustrate a most important depart-
ment of zoological science — a publica-
tion which promises to become as valu-
able in science as it is beautiful in art —
is A Century of Birds from the Himalaya
Mountains* hitherto unfigured, by John
Gould, A.L.S. The work will comprise
twenty folio numbers, each of these num-
bers containing four or five plates, but
invariably five birds— in most instances,
the size of life. Here, then, are a hun-
dred birds, inhabitants of the unexplored
districts of the great mountain-chain of
Central Asia, all of them probably in-
troduced for the first time into this
country, certainly for the first time fi-
gured, and many of them interesting as
connecting groups, or exhibiting affini-
ties where none have hitherto existed.
Such a circumstance as this must tend
to make the work valuable in a scientific
point of view ; and as productions of
art, these drawings equal, perhaps ex-
ceed, all ornithological illustrations that
we have yet seen. It is remarkable in-
deed how little, until within these few
years, science has been indebted to art.
In these figures upon stone, brilliantly
coloured, we find the two excellences
combined — accuracy and fidelity in pre-
serving not only the general character
of the bird, but its more minute though
not less important characteristics ; and,
united to this, all the beauty, freedom,
and finish of drawing that are indispen-
sable to an adequate and satisfactory
representation of nature. Of the five
figures that compose the first number,
the Tragopan Hastingsii — named after
Lord Hastings — is unquestionably the
most splendid in point of colouring; but
it will scarcely be found more attractive
than the delicate plumage of the beauti-
ful jay, or the quiet dignity of the owl
— who is sitting, enveloped in his soft
feathery robe, with a gravity worthy of
his wisdom, and looks as much like a
Lord High Chancellor as if the branch
that supports him were the woolsack. —
The white-crested pheasant (Phasianus
albo cristatus}, of which we have been
favoured with a specimen, intended for
the ensuing number, seems almost supe-
rior to these. They are drawn, of course
from nature, by E. Gould. Descriptions
of the subjects illustrated will be sup-
plied by Mr. Vigors, the Secretary of
the Zoological Society.

The twentieth number of the Spirit of
the Plays of Shakspeare is devoted to the
second and third parts of Henry the
Sixth ; the second affording eleven, and
the third eight subjects for illustration.
They evince the same degree of spirit,

104

Fine Arts' Publications.

[JAN.

knowledge, and discrimination in the
choice of subject, that has characterized
the work from its commencement ; and
to artists and lovers of art, they will
prove, no doubt, at least as interesting
as any of the preceding illustrations.
The Shaksperian student, however, in
addition to the comparative want of at-
traction in the general character of
these plavs, and in many of the points
selected for embellishment, will find the
same deficiencies in all. The fault of
them is, that they are not Shaksperian ;
nor does it seem possible to convey any
thing resembling the spirit of Shakspeare
in any set of outlines however excellent
in execution. Mr. Howard might as
well hope to paint the rainbow with a
single colour, or to afford an idea of the
beauties of a country by exhibiting a
map of it. We admit that several of the
designs are spirited and tasteful, and
have little doubt that there is a consider-
able number of persons to whom they
will prove acceptable and interesting.
Our own sense, however, of the wonders
of the great poet of human nature leads
us to regard most of the illustrations of
his works that we have seen, as common-
place and contemptible. It is surpris-
ing, among such a multitude of attempts,
how few have succeeded ; and how much
yet remains to be done in a field open
to all.

Another number — the eighth — of the
Landscape Illustrations of Waverley, has
appeared; — we can only describe it by
saying that it is ecjual to its fellows.
When so much care is employed in the
production of a uniformity of beauty, it
is seldom that we can point out one view
that surpasses the rest. Dumbarton
Castle, by Roberts, and Inverary Pier,
by Daniell — the one from the Heart of
Mid Lothian, the other from the Le-

gend of Montrose — are the most spark -
ng. Thev are all from the graver of
E. Finden."

Of the twentieth number of the Na->
tlonal Portrait Gallery, the three engrav-
ings are — the late Duke of Kent, the
present Earl of Harewood, and the late
Archdeacon Nares. The Duke of Kent's
portrait, by Scriven, from Sir William
Beechey's picture, is bold and charac-
teristic ; and that of Archdeacon Nares
is worthy of its pious arid excellent sub-
ject.

The fourth part of this highly in-
teresting and beautiful work contains,
like its precursors, three engravings.
Perawa, by I. S. Cotman and W. Le
Petit, is an extremely brilliant and
sunny view of a fine picturesque old
fort. The Caves of Ellora, by G. Cat-
termole and W. Woolnoth, is, though
sweetly engraved, somewhat deficient
in effect as a view of those architectural
singularities. Shuhur, by W. Purser
and P. Heath, is a scene of extraordi-
nary beauty ; the castellated buildings,
touched with a broad bright light, the
clear unruffled water enveloped in deep
shadow — the banks, and those that are
upon them— all are beautiful, and form
a most delightful view, at once quiet
and animated, simple and luxuriant.

We close our list with Tlie Cypress
Wreath for an Infant's Grave — a beauti-
ful little volume, addressing itself prin-
cipally to the sympathies oi' mothers on
the loss of infant children. It comes in,
among the numerous embellished books
which the season has produced, like a
moral commentary on their pride and
pleasures. Perhaps the cheerful bind-
ing hardly prepares us for what is to fol-
low;—or rather the piety which per-
vades these pages is too entirely mingled
with mournful feelings, and its clouds
and tears are not sufficiently relieved
by the light of hope and cheerfulness.
There are one or two essay? by the
editor, the Rev. John Bruce; and the
poetry consists of selections from various
moral and religious writers.

WORKS IN THE PRESS AND NEW PUBLICATIONS,

We are informed that Mr. Thomas
Campbell has entirely withdrawn him-
self from the editorship of the New
Monthly Magazine.

WORKS

THE PRESS.

The following are in a course of
preparation : —

By Thomas Moore, Esq. : The Life
and Death of Lord Edward Fitzgerald.

By the Bishop of Chester : Lectures,
practical and expository, on the Gospels
of Matthew and Mark.

Vegetable Cookery; with an intro-

duction, recommending abstinence from
animal food and intoxicating liquors.

By Col. Napier : The third volume
of his History of the Peninsular War.

By the Rev. Wm. Phelps : The His-
tory and Antiquities of Somersetshire.

Voyage to the Pacific and Behring's
Straits.

By Wm. Godwin, Esq. : Essays on
the faculties and economy of the Mind.

By Walter Crum, of Glasgow : An
Inquiry into the Theory of Colours,
with reference to the Newtonian Doc-
trine.

Reflections on the causes which have

1831.]

List of New Works.

105

overturned that self-elected vestry of
St. Marylebone.

By the author of the Castilian, £c. :
A Spanish tale, to be entitled, the In-
cognito, or Sins and Peccadillos.

Thoughts on Reform, by an M. P.

Remarks on the Representative Sys-
tem in Parliament, with a glance' at
those Acts in the Statute Book supposed
to have their origin in corruption.

By Professor Me. Cullock : A theore-
tical and practical Dictionary of Com-
merce and Commercial Navigation.

By the author of Select Female
Biography : Annals of My Village, a
Calendar of Nature for every month in
the year.

By the same author : Surveys of the
Animal Kingdom, and Sacred Melodies,
suggested by natural objects.

The Spirit of Don Quixote ; with
coloured engravings.

By dipt. Thomas White, R.N. : Na-
val Researches ; or a candid inquiry into
the conduct of Admirals Byron, Graves,
Hood, and Rodney, in the actions of
Grenada, Chesapeak, St. Christopher's,
and. 9th and 12th of April, 1782.

By the author of the Prophetic Mes-
senger : A volume to be called Ra-
phael's Witch ; with illustrations.

By W. Dunkin : The History and
Antiquities of Bicester; with an inquiry
into the history of the Roman Station at
Alchester.

By the Rev. Richard Lee, B.A, : An
Analysis of Archbishop Seeker's Lec-
tures on the Church Catechism.

By J. L. Drummond, M. D. : Letters
to a Young Naturalist.

By the Rev. Humphrey Lloyd, F.T.
C.D. : A Treatise on Optics ; "the first
volume containing the theory of un-
polarized light.

By Mr. Jones Quain : Two Lectures
on the Study of Anatomy and Physio-
logy-

By Mr. Rowbotham : A course of
Lessons in French Literature, on the
plan of his German Lessons.

By William Woolley, Esq. : A Col-
lection of Statutes relating to the town
of Kingston-upon-Hull.

LIST OF NEW WORKS.

POLITICAL.

Minutes of Evidence and Report
taken before the Select Committees of
both Houses of Parliament on the Af-
fairs of the East India Company. 2 vols
8vo. £2. 2s.

Cases and Remedies of Pauperism.
By the Rt. Hon. R. Wilmot Horton.
8vo. 12s

Patroni Ecclesiarum, a list of Patrons
of Church Dignities, &c. Roval 8vo.
18s.
M.M. New Series.— .VOL. XI. No. 01.

A Letter to the Earl of Wilton, on a
Graduated Property and Income Tax ;
and a Plan of Parliamentary Reform.
By an Englishman. 8vo. 2s.

An Attempt to prove that Lord Chat-
ham was Junius. By John Swinden.
8vo. 3s 6d.

A Country Rector's Address to his
Parishioners at the close of the twenty-
fifth Year of his Residence among them.

BIOGRAPHY AND HISTORY.

Dr. Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia,
Vol. XIII. ; being the History of the
Western World, Vol. I.— United States
of America. 6s.

Romance of History. Third series.
Romantic Annals of France. 3 vols.
£1. 11s. 6d.

Lingard's England, Vol. VTII. 4to.
35s. ; same in 8vo. 2 vols. 24s.

Nicolas's Observations on Historical
Literature. 8vo. 7s. Gd.

Household Book of Elizabeth of York.
8vo. 21s.

Anecdotes of Napoleon. 3 vols. 18mo.
9s.

Constable's Miscellany, Vols. 60 and
61— History of the War of Indepen-
dence in Greece. 7s. Vol. 62 — History
of Peru. 3s. 6d.

The History of the First Revolution
in France, from 1787 to 1802. By John
Bell, Esq. 8vo. 12s.

A Narrative of the Peninsular Cam-
paigns, from 1808 to 1814. By Major
Leith Hay. 2 vols. 12mo. 21s.

Memoirs of the Affairs of Greece ;
containing an Account of the Military
and Political Events in 1823 and fol-
lowing Years. By Julius Mullingen.
8vo.

The History of Chivalry. ByG.P.R.
James, Esq. "l2mo. 5s.

Murray's Family Library, Vol. 18 —
The Life of Bruce, the African Travel-
ler. By Major Head. 5s.

The Political Life of the Right Hon.
George Canning. By Augustus Gran-
ville Stapleton. 3 vols. 8vo. 36s.

The Life and Correspondence of Ad-
miral Rodney. 2 vols. 8vo. 24s.

Memoirs of the Life, Writings, and
Correspondence of James Currie, M.D.
Edited by his Son, W. Currie. 2 vols.
8vo.

The Life of Mrs. Jordan. By James
Boaden. 2 vols. 8vo. 28s.

The Scottish Gael; or Celtic Man-
ners, as preserved among the High-
landers in Scotland. By James Logan.
2 vols. 8vo. 30s.

POETRY.

Beauties of the Mind. By Charles
Swain. 12mo. 6s.

Poems. By Mrs. I. S. Prowse. 12mo.
6s.

Serious Poems. By Mrs. Thomas. 6s.

High -met tied Racer; with designs
by Geo. Cruikshank. Is. 6d.

P

106

List of New Works.

[JAN.

RELIGION, MORALS, &C.

The Literary Policy of'the Church of
Rome. Bv the Rev. Joseph Mendham.
8vo. lOs.Cd.

The Law of the Sabbath, Religious
and Political. By Josiah Condei. 8vo.
2s. 6d.

Harrison's Protestant Instructor. 8vo.
5s. 6d.

A Manual of the Rudiments of Theo-
logy. By the Rev. J. B. Smith. 12mo.
9s.*

The Errors of Romanism traced to
their Origin in Human Nature. By
Richard Whately, D.D. 8vo. 10s. 6d.

Travels and Researches of Eminent
English Missionaries, including an His-
torical Sketch of the Progress of Mis-
sions of late Years. By Andrew Picken.
12mo. 7s. 6d.

Trial of the Unitarians. 8vo. 8s.

Morrison's Counsels to Sunday
School Teachers. 32mo. Is.

Practical Lectures on the Historical
Books of the Old Testament. By the
Rev. Henrv Lindsay. 2 vols. 12mo.
10s.

Sermons on various Subjects and Oc-
casions. By the Rev. W. Jones, of
Nay land. 2 vols. 8vo. 21s. Now first
published.

Sermons on the Sacraments and Sab-
bath. By the Rev. Mr. James. 8vo.
8s. 6d.

The Book of Isaiah, translated from
the Hebrew text of Van der Hooght.
By the Rev. John James. 12mo. 5s.

Sermons at the Temple Church. By
the Rev. Mr. Rowlatt, 8vo. 12s.

Massillon's Select Sermons, frcm the
French. By II. Morris. 8vo. 10s. 6d.

SCHOOL AND JUVENILE BOOKS.

A New Complete Greek Gradus, or
Poetical Lexicon of the Greek Lan-
guage. By Edward Maltby, D.D. 8vo.
24s.

A Grammar of the German Language.
By C. F. Becker, M.D. 8vo. 8s. 6d.

Key to the Rev. Dr. Butler's Latin
Praxis. 8vo. 6s.

Art of Correspondence in English and
French. 2 vols. 18mo. 5s. 6d.

General System of Mercantile Book-
keeping. By L. Morrison. 4to. 10s. 6d.

Rask's Anglo-Saxon Grammar. By
Thorpe. 8vo. 15s. 6d.

Juvenile Encyclopaedia, Vol. I. —
Voyages, &c. 18mo. 3s. 6d.

Little Library. By the late Isaac
Taylor. Vol. Ill — The Forest gene-
rally. 3s. 6d.

Tales of a Grandfather ; being Stories
taken from the History of France. By
Sir Walter Scott, Bart. 3 small vols.
with plates, uniform with Tales from
Scottish History. 10s. fid.

Strawberry-Hill and its Inmates ; an
instructive Book for Children. 18mo.
2s. 6d. half-bound.

Ringlbergius on Study. Translated
by G. B. Evap. 12mo. *4s.

NOVELS AND TALES.

Letters from a Peruvian, in English.
3s.

An Only Love; a Narrative. By the
author of My Early Days. 12mo.

Pen Tamar; or the Historv of an
Old Maid. By the late Mrs." H. M.
Bowdler. 8vo. 10s. Cs.

Classical Cullings and Fugitive Ga-
therings.

Hood's Comic Annual for 1831. 12s.

Affection's Offering ; a book for all
seasons. 18mo. 4s.

Fortune's Reverses, or the Young
Bernese ; from the French of Mdme.
Julie de la Faye. By Elizabeth Bowles.

2 vols. 18mo. 7s. fid.

The Military Bijou ; being the Glean-
ings of Thirty-three Years' active Ser-
vice. By John Shipp. 2 vols. 12mo.
15s.

The Persian Adventurer; forming a
Sequel to the Kuzzilbash. By James
Frazer. 3 vols. £1. Us. 6d.

Stories of American Life, by Ame-
rican Writers. Edited bv Mary Russell
Mitford. 3 vols. 12mor £l.lls.Gd.

The Vizier's Son, or the Adventures
of a Mogul. 3 vols. 24s.

Exiles of Palestine. By John Carnes.

3 vols. £1. lls.Cd.

Warvay of the World ; a Novel. 3
vols. post 8vo. £\. Us. 6d.

Undine ; a Romance. Translated
from the German. 12mo. 5s. 6d.

The Talba, or Moor of Portugal ; a
Romance. By Mrs. Bray. 3 vols. 27s.

MEDICAL AND CHEMICAL.

The Female's Medical Adviser ; with
Observations on the Treatment of the
Diseases of Children. By Archibald
M. Adams, M,D. 8vo. 9s.

Estimate of the Value of Vaccination
as a security against Small Pox, and the
danger of encouraging the Inoculation
of the latter. By Samuel Plumbe.
3s. 6d.

Elements of Pathology and Practice
of Physic. By John Mackintosh, M. D .
Vol. II. 8vo. 14s.

Cases Illustrative of the Efficacy of
various Medicines administered by In-
halation in Pulmonary Consumption.
By Sir Charles Scudamore, M.D. 8vo.

Leach's Selections from Gregory's
Conspectus and Celsus. 18mo. 7s-
MUSICAL.

The Cadeau; or Cottage Lyrics for
1831. 4to. 12s.

Love's Offering, or Songs for Happy
Hours ; a new Musical Annual. Imp.
4to. 12s.

Apollo's Gift, or Musical Souvenir.
4to. 16s.

New System for Learning and Ac-
quiring Extraordinary Facility on all
Musical Instruments. 10s. Gd.

1831.]

List of Patents.

107

MISCELLANEOUS.

A Century of Birds, from the Hima-
laya Mountains. By John Gould,
A.LS. Parti. 4to. 12s.

The System of the World, by M. le
Marquis de Laplace. Translated by
the Rev. H.H. Harte, Fellow of Tri-
nity College, Dublin. 2 vols. 8vo. 24s.

Transactions of the Plymouth Insti-
tution. Royal 8vo. 15s.

Nichols, Priestley, and Walker's new
Map of the Inland Navigation, Canals,
and Rail-Roads. By J. Walker. Ac-
companied by a Book of Reference,
compiled by Joseph Priestley. Six
Sheets, £3. 3s. Book of Reference, 4to.
£2. 2s. in boards.

Annual Peerage for 1831. 2 vols. 28s.

East India Register for 1831. 10s.

Green's British Merchants' Assistant.
Royal 8vo. £1. 11s. 6d.

Time's Telescope for 1831. 12mo.
9s.

A new mode of Ventilating Hospitals,
Ships, Prisons, &c. By George Haw-
thorn, M.D. 8vo. 2s. Gd.

A Visit to the Zoological Gardens.
12mo. 6s.

Hobler's familiar Exercises between
an Attorney and his Articled Clerk.
12mo. 3s. 6d,

Wickstead's Exchequer of Plea Costs.
12mo. 3s. 6d.

PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.

New Patents sealed in November, 1830.

To Henry Calvert, Lincoln, gentle-
man, for an improvement in the mode
of making saddles so as to avoid the
danger and inconvenience occasioned by
their slipping forward.— 26th October;
2 months.

To Jeffrey Shores, Blackwall, Mid-
dlesex, boat builder and shipsmith, for
an improvement or improvements on
tackle and other hooks which he deno-
minates u the Self-relieving Hooks." —
1st November; 2 months.

To John Collinge, Lambeth, Surrey,
engineer, for an improvement or im-
provements on the apparatus used for
hanging or suspending the rudders of
ships or vessels of different descriptions.
— 1st November; 6 months.

To Benjamin Cook, Birmingham,
Warwick, brass-founder, for an improved
method of making a neb or nebs, slot or
shells, or hollow cylinders of copper,
brass, or other metals for printing ca-
licoes, muslins, cloths, silks, and other
articles. — 4th November ; 6 months.

To Lewis Aubrey, Two Waters,
Herts, engineer, for inventing certain
improvements in cutting paper. — 4th
November ; 6 months.

To John Bowler, Castle-street, South-
wark, Surrey, hat manufacturer, for
certain improvements in machinery em-
ployed in the process of dying hats. —
4th November ; 2 months.

To Joel Benedict Nott, Esq., Schenec-
lady, New York, but now of Bury-street,
St.* James's, Middlesex, for certain im-
provements in the construction of a fur-
nace or furnaces for generating heat and
in the apparatus for the application of
heat to various useful purposes. — 4th
November ; 6 months.

To Thomas Bramley, gentleman, and
Robert Parker, lieutenant in the Royal
Navy, both of Mousley Priory, Surrey,

for certain improvements on locomotive
and other carriages, or machines appli-
cable to rail and other roads, which in%.
provements, or part or parts thereof,
are also applicable to moving bodies on
water and working other machinery. —
4th November ; 6 months.

To Alexander Bell, Chapel - place,
Southwark, engineer, for certain im-
provements in machinery for removing
wool or hairs from skins. — 4th Novem-
ber ; 6 months.

To Augustus Whiting Gillet, Birm-
ingham, Warwick, merchant, for an im-
provement in the construction and
application of wheels to carriages of
pleasure, or of burden, or to machines
for moving heavy bodies. — 4th Novem-
ber ; 2 months.

To George Givinett Bompas, Esq.,
M.D. of Fishponds, near Bristol, for an
improved method of preserving copper
and other metals from corrosion or
oxidation 4th November ; 6 months.

To Joseph Gibbs, Esq., of Crayford,
Kent, for improvements in evaporating
fluids, applicable to various purposes. —
6th November; 6 months.

To John Hall, the younger, of Dart-
ford, Kent, engineer, for a machine upon
a new and improved construction for the
manufacture of paper.— 9th November ;
6 months.

To George Minter, of Princes-street,
Soho, Middlesex, upholsterer, cabinet
and chair manufacturer, for an improve-
ment in the construction, making, or
manufacturing of chairs. — 9th Novem-
ber ; 2 months.

To Henry Pratt, of Bilson, Stafford,
miller, for certain improvements in the
making and manufacturing of quarries,
applicable to kilns for drying wheat,
malt, and other grain, and to various
other purposes. — llth November; 6
months.

To Sir Thomas Cochrane, Knt, com-

T> fi

108

Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.

[JAN.

monly called Lord Cochrane, of llegent-
street, Middlesex, for an improved
rotary engine, to be impelled by steam,
and which may be also rendered appli-
cable to other purposes. — llth Novem-
ber ; 6 months.

To Charles Stuart Cochrane, Esq.,
of Great George-street, Westminster,
for certain improvements in the prepar-
ing and spinning of cashmere wool. —
13th November ; C months.

To John Tyrrell, Esq., barrister-at-
law, of St. Leonard's, Devon, for a me-
thod and apparatus for setting sums for
the purpose of teaching some of the
rules of arithmetic. — 13th November ;
6 months.

To Thomas Sands, Liverpool, mer-

chant, for certain improvements in
spinning machines. — 18th November ; 6
months.

List of Patents which having been granted
in the month of December, 1816, expire
in the present month of December, 1830 :

10. Richard Wright, London, for an
improved method of constructing and pro-
pelling ships.

14. William Dean, Manchester, /or
an improved machinery for leading calico
or cloth previous to glazing.

19. Samuel Brown, London, and
Philip Thomas, Liverpool, for an im-
proved method of manufacturing chains,
chain-cables, fyc.

BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS.

GENERAL VANDAMME.

Vandamme, Count of Unebourg, a dis-
tinguished officer of the revolution, whose
death recently occurred, was the son of an
apothecary of Cassel, in the department of
the north, where he was born on the 5th of
November, 1771- Having entered the army
at an early period of life, the inflexible
courage which he displayed, obtained for
him an unusually rapid advancement. He
was placed at the head of a light troop,
which received the complimentary desig-
nation of the Chasseurs of Mont Cassel.
In 1793, he was with the army of the
north ; and, in the course of the three
succeeding campaigns, he acquired great
distinction at the commencement of the
campaign of 1797, he commanded the
advanced guard, with which he sustained
the attack of the enemy, while the grand
body of the army effected the passage of
the Rhine. On this occasion, his horse
was killed under him.

In 1799, Vandamme was appointed
General of Division, and he received the
command of the left wing of the army of
the Danube. He afterwards passed into
Holland, under the orders of General
Brune, then at the head of the French
army in that country, and assisted in van-
quishing the Anglo-Russian forces, under
the Duke of York, at Alkmaer. For a time,
his wounds and his fatigues having im-
posed on him the necessity of quiet, he
retired to his native town. However, in
April, 1800, he returned; took the com-
mand of a division of the army of the
Rhine, and acquired new glory, at the pas-
sage of that river between Stein and SchafF-
hausen, and on various other occasions.
From Buonaparte, at that time first consul,
he received several marks of distinction,
and was named grand officer of the Legion
of Honour. With the command of the
Wurtemburg troops against the Austrians,
in the campaign of 1809, he obtained the
decoration of the grand cross of Wurtem-

berg. In many instances — particularly at
the battle of Urfar, where he completely
routed three columns of Austrian troops —
he greatly distinguished himself.

In 1811, General Vandamme was ap-
pointed President of the Electoral College
of Hazebruk. Serious misunderstandings
between him and Jerome Buonaparte pre-
vented his having any command in the
expeditions against Russia, in 1812. He
was disgraced, and ordered to retire to
Cassel. However, in February, 1813, he
was called to the command of a division of
troops. On the 25th of August he made
himself master of Pirna and Hohendorf ;
and, on the 29th, he passed the great chain
of the mountains of Bohemia, and marched
upon Kulm, where he found 10,000 Russians
commanded by General Osterman. He
fought with his accustomed bravery ; but
General Count Keish de Nollendorf de-
bouched by the mountains and fell upon
his rear— he found himself assailed at all
points — he lost the whole of his artillery
and 6,000 troops — and was himself taken
prisoner. Pie was, in consequence, marched
to Moscow and Wralka, to the north of
Kasan, and within twenty leagues of Siberia.
In other respects, also, he was treated with
ungenerous severity, the Grand Duke Con-
stantine having deprived him of his sword,
which had been returned to him by order
of the Emperor Alexander himself.

At the battle of Leipsic, in 1813, he
sustained a reverse from his old opponent,
General Kleist. It was not until the first
of September, 1814, that he again reached
France. In Paris, he was the object of
personal insult from various quarters. At
length, he was ordered, by the minister of
war, to quit the capital within twenty- four
hours; and, accordingly, on the 20th of
March, 1815, he was found in the repose of
private life.

When the news arrived of Buonaparte's
landing from Elba, General Vandamme
made a tender of his services to Louis

1831.]

Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.

109

XVIII. They were not accepted. Afte*
the king had left Paris, Vandamme re-
paired thither, and presented himself before
Napoleon, who made him a peer of France,
and commandant of the second division of
the army. Subsequently, in June, 1815,
he commanded the third corps cTarmte,
under General Grouchy, whose conduct
became the object of heavy suspicion and
censure. Vandamme, however, was emi-
nently successful at the attack of Wavres,
after the battle of Fleurus, and his troops
were in actual pursuit, ^Vhen intelligence
reached him of the defeat of Buonaparte at
Waterloo. The tables thus turned, he was
in danger of being crushed by superior
numbers ; but with excellent conduct, he
effected his retreat, sustaining scarcely any
loss. General Vandamme occupied Mont-
rouge, Meudon, Vanvres, and Issey. Some
of the generals offered him the command of
the army, which he declined, and afterwards
retired behind the Loire. There he
mounted the white cockade, and exhorted
his troops to submission.

The ordonnance of January 17th, 1816,
having obliged General Vandamme to quit
France, he retired to Ghent, the birth-place
of his wife. Afterwards, he resided on his
own beautiful estate at Cassel ; where, a few
years since, he erected an asylum for old
men, and restored several tracts of land to
husbandry purposes in that neighbourhood,
by the construction of dykes. Latterly,
General Vandamme's residence was again
at Ghent. About three weeks previously to
his death, and shortly before the commence-
ment of the revolution of 1830, he went to
France for the purpose of exercising his
rights as an elector.

ADMIRAL SIR C. M. POLE.

Sir Charles Morice Pole, Bart., of Al-
denham Abbey, Herts., Admiral of the
Red Squadron, and Knight Grand Cross of
the Bath, was a member of the noble house
of Pole, baronets of Shute, in the county of
Devon. His grandfather, the Rev. Carolus
Pole, rector of St. Breoek, in Cornwall, was
the fourth son of Sir John Pole, third
baronet of Shute, by Anne, youngest
daughter of Sir William Morice, Secretary
of State to Charles II. His father, Regi-
nald Pole, Esq., of Stoke Damorrell, in
Devonshire, married Anne, second daugh-
ter of John Francis Buller, Esq., of Mervell,
in Cornwall. By this marriage Sir C. M.
Pole was the second son. His elder brother,
Reginald Pole, who assumed the additional
surname of Carew, in compliance with the
will of Sir Coventry Carew, of Anthony, in
Cornwall, who filled the office of Under
Secretary of State for the Home Depart-
ment, during Mr. Addington's adminis-
tration.

Charles Morice Pole was born on the
18th of January, 1757 ; and, having been
educated at the Royal Naval Academy, at
Portsmouth, he entered the naval service

of his country. Through the various sub-
ordinate ranks of that service, he passed
with great credit : he was a lieutenant
early, and a post captain in 1770' During
the American war, he commanded a frigate,
in which, by the capture of numerous valu-
able prizes, and by other services, he greatly
distinguished himself.

In 1792, Captain Pole married Henriette,
daughter of John Goddard, Esq., of Wood-
ford Hall, Essex, and niece of the wealthy
Henry Hope, Esq., of Amsterdam ; who,
on his death, left Sir Charles a noble
legacy, and a large fortune to each of his
two daughters, Henrietta Maria Sarah, and
Anna Maria. Of these, the elder was mar-
ried, in 1821, to William Stuart, Esq.,
only son of his Grace the late Hon. and
most Rev. William, Archbishop of Armagh,
and grandson of John, Earl of Bute.

In 1795, Captain Pole was promoted to
the rank of Rear-Admiral ; in 1801, to be
a Vice-Admiral, and, in 1805, to be Ad-
miral of the Red. In consideration of his
professional services — as much, perhaps, in
consequence of his high ministerial and
other connections — he was, on the 12th of
September, 1801, advanced to the dignity
of a baronet. In 1803, he was brought into
parliament for the borough of Newark, in
Nottinghamshire; and, in 180G, during
Earl St. Vincent's presidency at the Ad-
miralty Boards, he was one of the junior
lords. He was then appointed president of
a board to reform the naval expenditure,
and he brought in, and carried through par-
liament a bill to remove the chest at Chat-
ham, (an institution and fund for the relief
of wounded seamen,) to Greenwich ; a
measure of great importance to the navy.
In 1807 and 1808, Sir Charles was member
of parliament for Plymouth ; and, after-
wards, he sat for Yarmouth, in the Isle of
Wight. On the establishment of his pre-
sent Majesty's household, as Duke of Cla-
rence, Sir Charles Pole was appointed one
of the grooms of the bed-chamber to His
Royal Highness ; an office whjch he con-
tinued to hold till the accession of Wil-
liam IV., when he was appointed Equerry
to his Majesty, and immediately afterwards,
naval Aide-de-Camp to the King, and
Master of the Robes, vice Lord Mount-
charles.

Of these honours, Sir C. M. Pole had
but a brief enjoyment. He died on the
Cth of September, at his seat, Aldenham
Abbey, in the 74th year of his age.

LADY THURLOW.

Mary Catherine, Lady Thurlow, died at
Southampton, on the 28th of September,
having survived her husband, Edward,
second Baron Thurlow, only about fifteen
months. This lady — remembered by many
of our readers as Miss Bolton, an actress of
no mean celebrity — was the eldest daughter
of Mr. James Richard Bolton, a wine-mer-
chant, if we forget not, somewhere not far

110

biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons*

[JAN.

from the theatres. She was born about the
year 1 789 ; and, having received a musical
education under Mr. Lanza, she sang with
much success at the Hanover-square and
Willis's Rooms' concerts. It is said that,
when at the age of seventeen, she made her
first appearance on the stage (October 8,
1 806), she had witnessed only five drama-
tic performances ; three during her child-
hood, and two in the winter of 1805. Mr.
Lanza introduced her to Mr. Kemble and
Mr. Harris ; and the character selected for
her dtbut was Polly, in the Beggar's Opera.
In this she was brilliantly successful ; the
piece was repeated many times during the
season; Love in a Village was revived,
specially .for the purpose of introducing her
to the public in that opera ; and, in many
other pieces, she was received with equal
favour.

Miss Bolton retained her station with
eclat, for seven years ; when, after a court-
ship of some length, she was married to
Lord Thurlow, at" the church of St. Mar-
tin's in the Fields, on the \ 3th of Novem-
ber 1813. It has been stated that, previ-
ously to her marriage, she obtained from
Lord Thurlow an annuity for her father
and mother, to whom she was deeply and
affectionately attached. Lady Thurlow ap-
pears to have been one of the very few
actresses who, having by marriage been
elevated to the peerage, have proved them-
selves capable of sustaining a high charac-
ter in private equally as in public life. We
have never heard her mentioned but in
terms of respect — as a pattern of conjugal
duty and domestic happiness. Her lady-
ship has left three sons ; of whom, Edward
Thomas, the eldest, succeeded to the family
title and estates, on the death of his father,
June 4, 1829.

LORD BLAXTYRE.

The Right Hon. Robert Walter Stewart,
Lord Blantyre, of the county of Lanark,
who accidentally lost his life during the
disorders at Brussels, in September last,
was of a branch of the ancient and noble
family of Stewart, or Stuart, Dukes of
Lenox. His lordship was a major-general
in the army, and a knight companion of the
order of the Bath. He was also lord-lieu-
tenant of the county of Renfrew. This no-
bleman was born on the 10th of June,
1775; and he succeeded his father, Alex-
ander, tenth Lord Blantyre, on the 5th of
November, 1783. His lordship was bred
to the army, into which he entered young.
He served in the Duke of York's expedi-
tion to Holland, in 1 799 ; in Egypt as aide-
de-camp to General Stuart, in 1801 ; in
the expedition to Pomerania and Zealand,
in 1807 ; and with the Duke of Wellington
in the Peninsular war, in 1809.

Lord Blantyre married, on the 26th of
February, 1813, Frances, second daughter
of the Hon. John Rodney, of the Island of
Ceylon (son of Admiral Sir George, first

Lord Rodney, K.B.), by his first wife, by
the Lady Catherine Nugent, sister of the
late Earl of Westmeath. A sister of Lady
Blantyre is married to the Hon. Major-
General Patrick Stewart, next brother to
her late husband. Lady Blantyre is also
half-sister to Lady George Lennox, and to
Miss Eliza Rodney. By this marriage
Lord Blantyre has left a son, George, his
successor, bom in 1818, and a family of
seven or eight other children.

His lordship had been some time residing
at Brussels, where, from a local accident, he
was confined to his chamber. To obtain a
view of the proceedings of the mob in their
attack upon the town, he unfortunately
chanced to put his head out- of the window
of the hotel — whence he had just before
removed a maid-servant — and was instantly
shot. There does not, however, appear to
be any ground for the belief in the report
that he was the victim of assassination.
His lordship was a man of high reputation
— of quiet, domestic habits, and was greatly
beloved.

THE DUKE OF ATHOL.

His Grace, John Murray, Duke, Marquis
and Earl of Athol ; Marquis and Earl of
Tullibardin ; Earl of Strathsay and Stra-
therdale ; Viscount Glenalmond, Balquhi-
crir, and Glenlyon ; Baron Murray, of Tul-
libardin ; Lord Belvemere and Gask, in
North Britain ; Earl Strange, Baron
Strange, and Baron Murray, of Stanley, in
the county of Gloucester, in the Peerage of
the United Kingdom ; K. T. ; F. R. S. ;
Lord Lieutenant and Hereditary Sheriff of
the county of Perth ; Captain-General and
Governor of the Isle of Man ; was the Re-
presentative of the family of Murray, which
derives its origin from John de Moravia,
Sheriff of Perthshire in the year 1219.
William, grandson of John de Moravia,
was one of the Magnates Scotice sum-
moned to Berwick by King Edward I., in
1292 ; and, by marriage with Ann, daughter
of Malin, Seneschal of Strathan, he acquired
the lands of Tullibardin, of which his des-
cendants were nominated Barons. In 1736
the absolute sovereignty of the Isle of Man
devolved upon James, second Duke of
Athol, as the heir of the Stanley family,
to which it had been granted by King
Henry IV. in 1406. By his nephew and
successor, John, third Duke of Athol, and
father of the late Duke, to whom this no-
tice refers, the sovereignty of the Isle of
Man was transferred to the British govern-
ment for the sum of £70,000 ; the family,
however, reserving their landed interest,
with the patronage of the bishopric, and
other ecclesiastical benefices, on payment of
the annual sum of £101. 15s. lid. and
rendering two falcons to the Kings and
Queens of England upon the days of their
coronation.

His Grace, the late Duke, was born on
the 30th of June, 1755 ; he succeeded to

1831.]

Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.

Ill

the Scottish honours of his family, at the
decease of his father, on the 5th of Novem-
ber, 1774 ; he obtained the English earl-
dom of Strange, and Barony of Murray, of
Stanley, by creation on the 18th of Au-
gusr, 1780; and he inherited the Barony
of Strange, at the decease of his mother,
who was Baroness of Strange in her own
right, in 1805. His mother was the Lady
Charlotte Murray, only daughter of James,
second Duke of Athol. His Grace mar-
ried, on the 26th of December, 1774, Jane,
eldest daughter of Charles, ninth Lord
Cathcart, by whom he had two sons and
three daughters. His eldest son, John,
born in 1778, has for some years been an
inmate of a lunatic asylum, at Kilbourne,
a circumstance which proved a source of
deep and permanent affliction to his father.
His malady is said to have originated in a
brain fever, consequent on imprudent bath-
ing. From the unhappy state of his intel-
lect, his brother, James, born in 1782,
supersedes him, by virtue of an act of par-
liament, and succeeds to the family honours
and estates, as fifth Duke of Athol, &c.
This nobleman married, in 1810, the Lady
Emily Frances Percy, sister of the present
Duke of Northumberland ; and, in 1821,
he was created Baron Glenlyon,of Glenlyon,
in the county of Perth. The Duke's eldest
daughter, Charlotte, was married, first, to
the late Sir John Menzies, Bart. ; secondly,
to Rear-Admiral Adam Drummond, of
Meginch : his second daughter, Amelia
Sophia, is married to Viscount Strathallan ;
and his third, Elizabeth, to Sir Evan John
Macgregor Murray, Bart. His Grace's
first wife dying in 1790, he married in
1704, Margery, eldest daughter of James,
sixteenth Lord Forbes, and relict of
Macleod, by whom he had several children,
all now deceased.

For thirty-six years the Duke of Athol
had enjoyed the office of Lord Lieutenant
of his county ; in which, too, the greater
part of his life had been spent. As a
spirited and enterprising landed proprietor,
his loss there will be deeply felt. His
Grace died at his seat, Athol House, Dun-
keld, Perthshire, on the 29th of September.
His funeral took place on the 18th of Octo-
ber, in a manner strictly private, and void
of ostentatious ceremony. According to his
express wish, his body was deposited hi a
coffin made of one of his own larch trees,
without any covering, but highly polished
and varnished, that thus another trial might
be given of the durability of his favourite
timber. The funeral service was read by
the Bishop of Rochester ; and a mournful
procession, consisting of the members of
the family, and the immediate relations and
friends of the deceased, conveyed his re-
mains to the burial-place of his fathers.

ADMIRAL SIR JOHN NICHOLLS, K.C.B.

This officer, born in 1758, died early in
September, at his residence in Somerset-
shire. According to the custom formerly
prevalent with those who had interest, he
entered the service in his childhood ; and,
after passing through all the respective gra-
dations of rank, he was made Post-Captain
in 1788. In the war that broke out after
the commencement of the French Revolu-
tion, he, in 1793, commanded the Royal
Sovereign, of 100 guns, at that time bear-
ing the flag of Admiral Lord Graves ; in
1807, he commanded the Marlborough, of
74 guns ; in 1810 he was made Rear-
Admiral; in 1820, K.C.B. ; in 1825, Vice-
Admiral of the Blue ; and in 1830, Ad-
miral of the White. He was some time
Comptroller of the Navy.

MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.

AT this season of the year, our Correspondents have little to communicate on
the ordinary occupations of husbandry ; their letters at the present turbulent
crisis, are filled with very different, indeed, disheartening subjects, with the con-
solation, however, that a stop has at length been put to the horrible devastations
which have prevailed almost throughout" the country, and that great numbers of
misguided and revengeful delinquents have been apprehended. In those fortunate
districts which escaped the dreadful visitations, among which Herts, as in other
respects, formerly adverted to, stands most memorably and creditably prominent,
the arrears of cultivation have been completed in a style considerably superior to
expectation for times like the present ; in those most subjected to the recent
calamities, so much cannot be expected, and great interruption must have there
been experienced to the completion of the year's business, as well as derangement
and deterioration of the prospects of the year ensuing. The wheats in the southern
and forward counties, are generally above ground, and upon dry and wholesome
soils, have as fine and promising an appearance as could possibly be expected, upon
lands in their notoriously neglected state. Our late letters make no further men-
tion of the slug, the forwardest wheats probably getting beyond its powers, and a
frost of some length will prove the only radical remedy. It was stated in our
last, that the kindliness of the season had induced many farmers to extend their
breadth of wheat. We have since been informed, in fact, several instances have
come under our own observation, that many others have been deterred from risk-
ing a wheat crop on part of their lands, both from the unfortunate experience of
their two last crops, and the deplorably foul and exhausted state of the soil, much

112 Agricultural Report. [JAN.

of which it will be to their obvious advantage to throw out of culture. Wheat
continues to rise gradually at market, and the quantity of home grown is gene-
rally small ; so premature and erroneous was the public calculation on the late
crop. In the poor land counties, little has been hitherto threshed, beyond the
demand for seed, and the surplus, which want of money must soon bring to
market, is reported to be low to a disheartening degree ; a still advancing price
must be expected. Thus the country can ill afford the waste and destruction
which has been made. Barley, though a defective crop, is heavy of sale, as are
oats from their superior plenty. Pulse hold their price, with an inclination to
advance. Wheat seed has been fortunately got in, throughout the great corn
county of Norfolk, where the superior culture of the dibble has prevailed to a great
extent: subject, however, to (the usual disadvantage of that mode,) insufficient
clearing of the soil from weeds, which can only be effected through wide
rows.

The markets for store cattle are on the advance, and good wedders and ewes —
but the markets have been glutted with ordinary and unsound mutton : of the
latter, lots have been burned in Smithfield. Great complaints from Wales, of the
low prices of stock, where pigs of six months are selling at four or five shillings
each. The price of store stock has been there calculated throughout the summer
and autumn, at forty per cent., in proportion, below the price of corn. Gene-
rally, however, in the country, complaints are made that fat stock has produced
no profit, and that the prospect for winter feeding is discouraging. Horses for
saddle and quick draught, are lower than during many years past. Wool continues
rather on the decline, the buyers in the first months of its revival, having so
amply stocked themselves. It will probably start again in the spring. The
whole duty on hops for the present year, amounts to £153,125 18s. 6d. The trade
continues very dull, with little or no change in the price. The thirty-second
anniversary of the London Cattle Show has just passed. The exhibition consisted
of the usual articles, and the only novelty which occurred, were the extension of
it to four days, and the distribution of gold and silver medals. Except on the
last day, it was not so numerously attended as formerly; and, for some years past,
few men of rank have been seen there.

Public opinion has gone generally against the farmers, whose complaints formerly
were not deemed just ; but their justice has been of late too pointedly proved !
Their losses have been progressive from year to year ; their returns, instead of
affording them a living, being inadequate to the expences of culture, and the
payment of rent, tithes, poors' rates, and taxes. These must undoubtedly be
reduced, and that to a considerable extent, before British farming can flourish as
heretofore. This necessity, ultimately pressing on the landlords, will compel
their votes for the lowest p'ossible reduction of taxes. Tithes seem to present the
greatest difficulty ; no mode of commutation hitherto proposed, appearing to be
satisfactory, and tl

the general opinion for their entire abolition gradually gaining
ground. A letter, however, has lately appeared in the County Chronicle, with
the averment that the farmer profits from forty to cent, per cent., by the
present tithing system ; yet with such notable acquisitions the farmer cannot
live.

Never were complaints better grounded, or more truly affecting, than those of
the agricultural labourers. They have been oppressed, neglected, starved, in a
land of superabundance, flowing from their own labour. But whatever the farmers
may have to answer for originally, it has been obviously out of their power, of
late, to increase labourers' wages, or even afford employment for the numbers
depending upon it. This can only be effected by the landlords and the legis-
lature.

It is revolting to find a considerable part of the public, safe and comfortable at
home by their fire-sides, defending the conduct of the peasantry, since it must l>et
productive ultimately of public benefit — thus, as of old, the end sanctifies the
means. The cry against threshing machines is hollow and absurd ; were farming
productive, the tenantry would be able to employ a fair complement of labourers,
and yet keep their machines, since threshing with the flail is by no means a
favourite branch of labour with the husbandmen. In reality, to talk of the disuse
of machinery in this manufacturing country, is to talk without book.

But it is satisfactory to conclude, that effective measures are in operation, for
ameliorating the condition of the whole body of the peasantry. ^

Smi&fteld—E&iS, 3s. to 4s.— Mutton, 2s, lOd. to 4s. 6d Veal, 4s. 6d. to 5s. Cd.

—Pork, 3s. 8d. to 5s.— Hough fat, 2s. lOd.

Corn Exchange.— Wheat, 56s. to 76s. — Barley, 28s. to 53s Oats, 19s. to 32. —

London 41b. loaf, lOd — Hay, 45s. to 105s.— Clover ditto, 50s. to 110s.— Straw,
30s. to 36s.

. Coals in the Pool, 30s. to 42s per chaldron.
Middlesex, Dec. 20th.

1331.] [ 113 ]

MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.

SUGAR.*— A general and extensive demand for Muscavadoes continued during
the last week ; extensive purchases would have taken place, but owing to a short
supply of the qualities most in demand, which were strong for refining and very
low brown, the prices were, 6d. to Is. per cwt. higher ; estimated sales, 3,300 hhds.
and tierces. The stock of West Indian Sugars is now 40,064 hhds. and tierces, being
4,606 less than last year. The delivery of West India Sugars last week was,
3,275 hhds. and tierces, being, 341 more than last year; the delivery of Mauritius
last week, 3,003 bags, being 560 more than the corresponding week of 1829 ; the
market is firm at the improvement we have stated. Good new Sugars brought
forward have sold freely. The refined market Was more firm last week ; no brown
lumps offered under 62s. ; they have been selling at 61s. and 61s. 6d. ; nearly all
the lumps are cleared off the market. The prices of refined free on board are now
2s. or 3s. lower than last year, 62s. readily realized for low lumps from the great
improvement in the Sugar Market ; Mauritius and East India Sugars have com-
manded a profit, Is. or Is. 6d. per cwt. ; Siam Sugar sold at the advance of Is.
per cwt.

COFFEE.— The public Sales of Coffee last week, were confined to small par-
cels of Jamaica, Demerara, and Berbice ; a few lots of Jamaica ordinary sold, Is.
and 2s. higher ; the demand for foreign Coffee has been general and extensive ;
about 1,700 bags Brazil, sold chiefly at 33s. and 34s.; parcels of St. Domingo,
32s. 6d., and Cheribon at the same price. The Coffee Market is unvaried.

RUM, BRANDY, HOLLANDS. — The demand for Rum continued general and
extensive last week ; nearly 1,200 puncheons have been sold at a further advance
of ^ to Id. per gallon ; in Jamaica Rum there are no sales. Brandy and Geneva
are neglected.

HEMP, FLAX, AND TALLOW. — The Tallow Market continues firmly advancing,
the late imports are on the most extensive scale. Flax is firm, Hemp a shade
lower.

Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 1. — Rotterdam, 12. |. — Hamburgh,

13. 13. Altona, 13. 13^.— Paris, 25. 35 — Bordeaux, 25. 70 — Frankfort, 15. 0.

— Petersburg, 10. 0. — Vienna, 109. 0 — Trieste, 109. 0 — Madrid, 36. ^. — Cadiz,
36. Oi— Bilboa, 36. 0|.— Barcelona, 36. 0.— Seville, 36. 0^.— Gibraltar, 47- 0|.—
Leghorn, 47. 0^.— Genoa, 25. 75.— Venice, 46. 0.— Malta, 48. O^.— Naples, 39.0.
—Palermo, 118. 0.— Lisbon, 45. 0.— Oporto, 45. £.— Rio Janeiro, 18. 0.— Bahia,
25. 0.— Dublin, 1. OJ.— Cork, 1. 04.

Bullion per Oz. — Portugal Gold in Coin, £0. Os. Od.— Foreign Gold in Bars
£3. 17s. 9d.— New Doubloons, £0. Os. Od.— New Dollars, £0. 4s. 9id.— Silver in
Bars (standard), £0. Os. Od.

Premiums on Shares and Canals, and Joint Stock Companies, at the Office of
WOLFE, Brothers, 23, Change Alley, Cornhill.— Birmingham CANAL, (\ sh.) 284J.—
Coventry, 850/. — Ellesmere and Chester, 73/. — Grand Junction, 2457 — Kennet and
Avon, 25J/. -Leeds and Liverpool, 395J.--Oxfbrd, 500/.~Regent's, 18±/.— Trent and
Mersey, (\ sh.) 600/. — Warwick and Birmingham, 280/. — London DOCKS (Stock)
67 i/.— West India (Stock), 170/.— East London WATER WORKS, 120/.— Grand
Junction, OO/ — West Middlesex, 76/.— Alliance British and Foreign INSURANCE,
8J/.— Globe, OOW.— Guardian, 251.— Hope Life, 5fJ.— Imperial Fire, OOO/.— GAS-
LIGHT Westminster, chartered Company, 54/.— City, 19 1/.- British, 1| dis —
Leeds, 195/.

M.M. NeiD Series. -VOL. XL No. 61.

C

[JAN.

ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BANKRUPTCIES,

Announced from November 23d, to December 22d, 1830, in the London Gazette.

BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED.

J. Lee, Brighton, victualler.

J. E. Rose, Bath, linen-draper.

J. Kinsr, Lamb's Conduit-street, draper.

J. F. Pan-is, Maula Hill, brick-maker.

H. J. Torrington, Battle-bridge-wharf, builder.

P. Shadrack, Brighton, plumber.

W. Locke, Pury-street, Edmunds, innkeeper.

BANKRUPTCIES.

[This Month 140.]
Solicitors' Names are in Parentheses.

Atkinson, J., Cock -lane, brass-founder. (Norton,
Jewin-street.

Andrews, J. N., Northampton, victualler, (Vin-
cent, Temple ; Cooke, Northampton.

Adron, W. and C., St. Pancras, stone-masons.
(Philby, Charlotte-street.

Ardenne, R. H., Southwark, cabinet-maker.
(Dover, Great Winchester-street.

Allen, S., Stratford, coal-merchant. (Hilleary,
Stratford.

Alewvn, J., Fenchurch-street, merchant. (King,
Token-house-yard .

Bayes, W., Gainsburgh, iron-founder. (Dawson
and Co., New Boswell-court ; Codd and Co.,
Gainsburgh.

Bell, M., Great Surrey-street, victualler. (Nind
and Co., Tlirogmorton-street.

Bed ford, T., Wantage, post- horse-master. (Hague,
Nelson -square.

Bray, W. F., Liverpool-street, builder. (Atkins,
Fox Ordinary-court.

Bedford, 1)., London-wall, victualler. (Parnell,
Spitaltields.

Boone.G., Well?, innholdcr. (Blake, Palsgrave-
place ; Lax, Wells.

Briscoe, R., Manchester, shopkeeper. (Alding-
ton and Co., Bedford-row : Dean, Manchester.

Bell, H., Crown-court, Threadnecdle-street, mer-
chant. (Nind and Co., Throgmorton-street.

Brown, J., Old Kent-road, victualler. (Young
and Co., Blackman-street.

Bragg, J., Harrington, shipowner. (Norris and
Co., John-street; Wilson, Liverpool.

Bragg, J., Aketon, Spofforth, York, bleacher.
(Dawson and Co., New Boswell-court; Gill,
Knaresborough.

Bricknell, J. P. A., Exeter, haberdasher. (Ad-
lington and Co., Bedford-row ; Furlong, Exeter.

Brooks, T., jun., Hunter-street, music-seller.
(Aston, Old Broad-street.

Bristow, W., Lambeth, baker. (Hill, Alderman-
bury.

Boot, J., Nottingham, bleacher. (Kniield, Gray's,
inn ; Eufield and Son, Nottingham.

Beddall, J. and P., High Holborn, carpenters.
(Williams, Aifred-placo.

Bagley, !>., Sedgeley, pig iron-maker. (Barber,
Fetter-lane.

Brooks. T., Manchester, haberdasher. (Hurd
and Co., Temple ; Booth and Co., Manchester.

Cansdell, W., Bishop.«gate -street, auctioneer.
(Towne, Broad-street-buildings.

Chapman, R., Islington, builder. (Ashley, Old-
street-road.

Colson, H., Clapton, coach-proprielor. (Randall,
Bank-chambers.

Collett, H., Cheltenham, grocer. (Bousfield,
Chatham-plate; Winferbotham, Cheltenham.

Cullingford, R., Marylehone - lane, victualler.
(Smith, Basinghall-strcet.

Clarkson, J., Kinpston-upon-Hull, airent. (Rush-
worth, Symond's-inn ; Brown, Kingston-upon-
Hull.

Cope, H., Mile-end-road, cattle-dealer. (Darke,
Red Lion-square.

Corden, W. J., Manchester, warehouseman.
(Hindmarsh and Son, 3Ianchester, and Crescent,
Jewin-strect.

Cope, H. Barnet, tailor. (Bousfield, Chatham-
place.

Cross, R., Manchester, publican. (Adlingtoa
and Co., Bedford-row; Morris and Co., Man-
chester.

Dickins, W., jun., Northampton, tailor. (Vin-
cent, Temple ; Cooke, Northampton.
Delves, R., Tunbridge Wells, lodging-house-
keeper. (Burfoot, Temple ; Sprott, Tunbridge
Wells.
Drysdale, J., Wapping, ship-chandler. (Dods,

Northumberland-street.
Dayus.H., Southwark, engineer. (Briggs, Lin-

coln's-inn-tields.

Donald, J., Hayton, cattle-salesman. (Chisholme
and Co., Lincoln's-inn-fields ; Fisher and Son,
Cockertnouth.
Emden, S.,Bncklersbury, merchant. (Bourdillon,

Winchester-street.

Earl, J., Hackney, cheesemonger. (Dods, North-
umberland-street.

Fielding, J. and J., Catterall, calico-printers.
(Ellis and Co., Chancery-lane; Dixon and Co.,
Preston ; Brackenbury, Manchester.

Fossick, S., Mumford-court, Milk-street, ware-
houseman, and Gracechurch-street, umbrella-
manufacturer. (Holt, Threadneedle-street.

Friend, E. A., Cambridge, livery-stable-keeper.
(Robinson and Sons, Half-moon-street ; Robin-
son, Cambridge.

Fogg, J., Manchester.surgeon. (Willettand Co.,
Essex-street ; Babb, Manchester.

Fenn, W. H.. Old Change, tea-dealer. (Starling,
Leicester-square.

Garraway, J , Batheaston, baker (Williams and
Co., Lincoln's-inn-iields ; Mochey, Bath.

Gamble, J. and T., Kidd, Sutton-in-Holderness,
wood-sawyers. (Rosser and Son, Gray's-inn ;
England and Co., Hull.

Glover, S., Poitland-road, bricklayer, (Chester,
Newfngton.

Glover, J., Wigan, draper. (Armstrong, Staple-
inn ; Grimshaw and Co., Wigan.

Kodsoll, W., jun., South-Ash, paper - maker.
(Davies, Devonshire-square.

Hebeit, H., Lcman-street, wine-merchant. (Holt,
Threadneedlp-slreet.

Holland, T., Birmingham, japanner. (Burfoot,
Temple ; Page, Birmingham.

Harrison, H., Manchester, merchant. (Adlington
and Co., Bedford-row; Houghton and Co.,
Liverpool.

Harrold, E., Wolverhampton, cotton-spinner.
(Austen and Co., Gray's-inn ; Palmer, Coleshil!.

Humfrey, J., Manningtree, wine - merchant.
(Bromley, Gray's-inn ; Notcutt, Ipswich.

Henn, A. H., Holborn, hatter. (Heard, Greut
Prescot-street.

Hodsoll,J., Farringham, miller. (Fox and Co.,
Fred crick's- place.

Hayden, W., Oxford-street, haberdasher. (Gar-
grave, Buckingdam-street.

Husail, J., Lawrence-lane, tea-dealer. (Hill and
Co., Gray's-inn.

Hawes, R. B. and C. Smith, Walvvorth, builders.
(Watson and Son, Bouverie-street.

He.ldon, J. and H., Lambeth, linen-drapers.
(Jones, Sise-lane.

Hall, H. B., Minories and Bow, merchant. (Ja-
cobs, Crosby-square.

Jenkins, J., Marsbneld, dealer. (Evans and Co.,
Gray's-inn; Perkins, Bristol.

Joseph, A., Penzance, flour-dealer. (Price and
Co., Lincoln's-inn ; Emonds, Penzance.

Jackson, D. and P., Manchester, carvers and
gilders, (Makinson and Co., Temple.

Johnson, L., York, linendraper. (VVilson, South-
ampton-street ; Payne and Co., Leeds.

Kettel, G., Tunbridge Wells, corn - dealer.
Brou^h, Fleet-street.

Kctel, C., Tunbridge Wells, brewer. (Davie*,
Devonshire square.

1831.]

List of Bankrupts .

115

Knight, C., Basinghall-Btreet, dealer. (Fisher,

Wai brook.
Kelly, T., Liverpool, grocer. (Willet and Co.,

Essex-street.

Killam, W., Kirton-in-Lindsey, victualler. (Eyre
and Co., Gray's- inn ; Nicholson and Co.,Glam-
lord Brings.

Lock, H. A. U., Lower Thames-street, Custom-
house agent. (Gregory, Clement's-inn.
Larkaii, S. Greenwich, victualler. (Gamlen and

Co., Furnival's-inn.
Laing, J., Collcgdean, and Stanmore, graziers.

(Crosse, Surrey-street.
Lewis, J., Tenby, draper. (Blower, Lincoln's-

inn-fields ; .Daniels, Gregory, and Co., Bristol.
Langf'ord, J., Dorrington grove, and Poolquay,
farmer. (Clark and Co., Lincoln's-inn-fields ;
Williams, Shrewsbury.
Marshall, J., Dartford, paper - mould - maker.

(Richardson and Co., Bedford-row.
Matthews, J., Bristol and Bath, picture dealer.

(Jones, Crosby-square.

IVioody, G., Lincoln, coach-maker. (Ellis andCo.,
Chancery-land ; Bromehead and Son, Lincoln.
Mumford, S., Stanstead - street, corn - dealer.
(Taylor and Co., Temple; Foster, jun., Cam-
bridge.

Muston, P. I., and T. P. Barlow, Austin-friars,
commission-merchants. (Swain and Co., Fre-
derick's-place.

Manley, T., Wentworth-street, merchant. (Gre-
gory, King's-anns-yard
Mackenzie, W., Regent-street, wine-merchant.

(Wolston, Furnival's inn

Malyon, J., Old Kent-road, pawnbroker. (Wat-
son and Sons, Bouverie-street
May, J., Fenchurch-strect, victualler. (Hailstone,

Lyon's-inn

Neil, W., Rowsey, brick burner. (Roc, 'Temple-
chambers ; Footner, Romsey
Nokes, W., Rotherhithe, medicine-vender. (Bull,

Holies-street
Nicoll, J., Liverpool, sail-maker. (Tavlor and

Co., Temple
OMham, M., Stock-port, innkeeper. (Milne and

Co., Temple; Wood, Bullock Smithy
Owen, W., Speke, farmer. (Norris and Co., John-
street ; Toulmin, Liverpool
Pronchett, C. P., Jewry -street, iron-founder.

(Haddan and Co., Angel-court
Pongerard, Fv, Fenchurch-street, merchant. (Not-

tey, Thanet-place

Parkin, J., Sheffield, fender-manufacturer. (Tat-

tershall, Temple; Tattershall and Co., Sheffield.

Preece, T., Lyecourt, Hereford, farmer. (Smith,

Basinghall-street ; Coates and Co., Leominster

Peskett, G., Peckham, surgeon. (Thornbury,

Chancery-lane.

Pluminer, J., and W.Wilson, Fenchurch-street,
merchants. CLeblanc and Co., New Bridge-
street.
P.idley, W., Tetford, brewer. (Eyre and Co.,

Gray's-inn ; Selwood.Horneastle.
Paare, W., Clerkenwell, victualler. (Willis,

Sloane-square.

Parkin, J., E. R. Thomas, and J. D. Walford,
Fenchurch-street, brokers. (Keavsey and Co.,
Lothbury.

Price, G., Chippen Campden, coal - merchant.
(Sharpe and Co., Old Jewry ; Willdns and Co.,
Bourton-on-the-Water.

Prior, W., Charlotte-street and Tottenham-court-
road, brewer. (Aldridge and Co., Lincoln's-
inn.
Price, J., Manchester, paper-dealer, (Milne and

Co., Temple ; Bent, Manchester.
Rayner, J., Clerkenwell, iron-founder. (Wathen,
Gray's-inn.

Rinder, H., Leeds, victualler. (Strangewayes and

Co.,Barnard's-Jnn ; Robinson, Leeds.
Renriv, J. H., Threadneedle-street, merchant.

(Oliverson and Co., Frederic-place
Shacklefoni, P., Andover, draper. (Evans and

Co., Gray's-inn.

Spittle, J., Francis-street, horse-dealer. (Rey-
nolds, Golden-square.

Shipman, R., Mansfield, grocer. (Parsons, Mans-
field.
Sindrey.W., Fish-street-hill, victualler. (Birket

and Co , Cloak-lane.
Shirreff, M. A., Mount-street, milliner. (Dufour,

Old Mihnan-street.
Smith, G. B., Bristol, corn-factor. (White, Ljn-

coln's-inn ; Bevan and Co., Bristol.
Sweetapple, B. and T., Godalming, paper-manu-
^ facturers. (Pontifex, St. Andrew's-court
Scbofield, W., Clerkenweil-close, silver-spnon-
manufacturer. (Templer and Shearman, Great
Tower-street.
Smith, B., jun., Birmingham, factor. (Adlington

and Co., Bedford-row.

Shaw, J. and J. Wood, Dukinfield, cotton-spin-
ners. Hampson, Manchester.
Seaman, J., Tooting, brewer. (Capes, Gray's-
inn.

Scholes, J., J. Broughton, and R. Scholes, Sad-
dle worth, calico-printers. (Adlington and Co.,
Bedford-row; Morris and Co., Manchester.
Taylor, J., St. George's-fields, cheesemonger.

(Wright, Little Aylie street.
Taylor, J., Green-Arbour -court, type-founder.

(Gadsden, Fnrnival's-inn.

Thomson, G. and H., and J, Clarke, Liverpool,
merchants. (31 akinson and Co., Temple ; Ogden,
Manchester.
Tristram, W., Willenhall, butcher, (Hunt,

Craven-street ; Willirn and Son, Bilston.
Timms, S., Ashby-de-la-Zouch, confectioner.
(Austen and Co., Gray's-inn ; Green, Ashby-
de-la-Zouch.
Thompson, R., Leeds, grocer. (Atkinson and Co.,

Leeds.

Thick, T., Camden-town, plasterer. (Gwle, Iron-
monger .lane.

Tfrpin, J. and A. G., Doncaster, coach-makers.

(Galsworthy, Cook's-court ; Heaton, Doncaster.

Tillman, J.,Exmouth, glazier. (Tiileard and Co.,

Old Jewry.
Upton, G., Queen-street, cheapside, colourmaH.

(Tucker, Bank-chambers.

Varley, J., Manchester, machine-maker. (Back,
Gray's-inn; Winterbottom and Co., Heaton-
Norris.
Whare, J., Leeds, hatter. (Shaw, Ely-place ;

Richardson, Hull.

Watkinson, J., Manchester, warehouseman. (Per-
kins and Co., Gray's-inn ; Lewtas, Manchester.
Whit.bourn, D., Darkhouse - lane, fishmonger.

(Hailstone, Lyon's-inn.
Wills, J. H..Bath, baker. (Williams, Gray's-inn ;

Watts and Son, Bath.

Willder, J., Birmingham, victualler. (Clarko
and Co., Lincoln's-inn-n'elds ; Colmore, Bir-
mingham.
Whereat, J., Romsey, ironmonger. (Sandys and

Sons, Crane-court; Holmes, Romsoy.
Walker, J., Portsmouth, merchant. (i3urt, Mitre-

street.
Webb, S., Reading, builder. (Eyre and Co.,

Gray's-inn ; Whateley, Reading-
Wilkinson, G. C., Bristol, confectioner. (Poola
and Co., Gray's-inn ; Cornish and Son, Bristol.
Wernham, G., 'Wallingford, victualler. (White,

Lincoln's-inn ; Hedges, Wallingford.
Walters, J., Worcester, shoe-maker. (Hamilton
and Co., Southampton-street.

ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.

Rev. T. Grantham, to the "Rectory of
Barmborough, Sussex. — Rev. C. j". C.
Bulteel, to the Vicarage of Holbeeton,
Diocese of Exeter.— Rev. F. H. Pare,

to the Vicarage of Cranborne, Dorset. —
Rev. H. P. AVilloughby, to the Rectory
of Marsh Baldon, Oxon. — Rev. C.
Richards. Jun , to the Rectory of Chale,
Q 2

116

Ecclesiastical Preferments,,

[JAN.

Isle of Wight.— Rev. T. Morgan, to the
Parish Church of Walterstone, Here-
ford, and Old Castle, Monmouth.— Rev.

C. M. Mount, to the Prebend of
Coombe, Wells Cathedral.— Rev. T. H.
Humphreys, to the Rectory and Vica-
rage of. St. Mary's, Tenby, Pembroke. —
Rev. R. Wrottesley, to the Rectory of
Himley, Stafford. — Rev. C. Smear, to
the Rectory of Sudburn cum Capella de
Orford, Suffolk.— Rev. R. H. Chapman,
to the Rectory of Kirkby Wiske, York.
—Rev. R. Metcalf, to be Minister of
the Parish of Sunk Island, York.— Rev.

D. G. Norris, to4he Vicarage of Kessing-
land, Suffolk.— Rev. W. D. Thring, to
the Vicarage of Fisherton, Delamere. —
Rev. J. Parsons, to the Vicarage of
Sherborne, Dorset.— Rev. C. Buck, to
the Rectory of St. Stephen's, Bristol.—
Rev. H. Clissold, to the Rectory of
Chelmondiston, Suffolk.— Rev.F. Faith-
ful, to the Rectory of Headley, Surrey.
• — Rev. E. Richardson, to the perpetual
Curacy of St. George, Kendal — Rev. T.
J. Theabald, to the Rectory of Nunny,
Somerset. — Rev. R. B. Buckle, to the
Rectory of Moreton, Somerset.— Rev.
J. Smith, to a Prebendal Stall, St. Paul's
Cathedral. — Rev. F. Cunningham, to the
Vicarage of Lowestoff, Suffolk. — Rev. J.
Lubbock, to the Vicarage of Potter
Heigham, Norfolk.— Rev. E. J. How>
man, to the Rectory of Gunthorpe cum
Bale. — Rev. E. Hill, to the perpetual
Curacy of Hindley, Lancashire.— Rev.
R. Robinson, to the Evening Lecture-

ship of Wolverhampton Collegiate
Church. — Rev. W. Le Poer French, to
a vacant Stall, and Living of Cleon,
Leitrim. — Rev. M. Geary, to the Vicar-
age of Sherborne, Dorset. — Rev. C. Tur-
ner, to the Rectory of Eastham, with
the Chapelries of Hanley William, Han-
ley Chime, and Oreleton, Worcester.
— Rev. G. Burmester, to the Rectory of
Little Oakley, Essex.— Rev. W. K. Fer-
gusson, to the Rectory of Belaugh, Nor-
folk.—Rev. C. Codd, to the Rectory of
Clay next the Sea.— Rev. T. W. Gage, to
theVicarage of HighamFerrers, and Rev.
R. A. Hannaford, to the Vicarage of Ir-
thingborough, Northampton. — Rev. S.
H. Alderson, to be Chaplain to the Lord
Chancellor. — Rev. T. Evans, to be a
Minor Canon of Gloucester Cathedral.
—Rev. J. W. King, to be Chaplain to
the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. — Rev.
J. Aspinall, to the Curacy of St. Luke,
Liverpool. — Rev.W. Seaton, to the Rec-
tory of Lampeter Velprey, Pembroke. —
Rev. R. A. Arnold, to the Rectory of
Ellough, Suffolk.— Rev. E. Bullen, to
the Rectory of Eastwell, Leicester. —
Rev. J. Bredin, to the Precentorship of
Leighton, Rectory of Nunney, Ireland.
—Rev. A. Colley, to the Rectory of
Tullamoy, Ireland —Rev. S. B. Ward,
to the Rectory of Teffbnt Evias, Wilts.
—Rev. O. Sergeant, to be Chaplain to
the Marquis of Stafford. — Rev. J. Cle-
mentson, to the Vicarage of Wolvey,
Warwick. — Rev. W. L. Townsend, to
the Living of Alderton, Gloucester.

CHRONOLOGY, MARRIAGES, DEATHS, ETC.

CHRONOLOGY,
Dec. 5. Report made to his Majesty
of seven prisoners convicted at the last
Admiralty Sessions, when two were or-
dered for execution.

8. Nearly 8,000 of the Societies of
Trades, headed by their delegates, went
in grand procession, with several bands
of music, and a variety of emblematical
banners, to present a humble and loyal
address to. his Majesty, which was most
graciously received ; it was signed by
upwards of 37,000 mechanics.

9. Sessions commenced at the Old
Bailey.

— . Chancellor of Exchequer stated in
House of Commons that the present go-
vernment were inimical to plurality of
offices in the church, and they had de-
termined not to issue the ad commendum
on Dr. Philpotts' appointment.

— . His Royal Highness the Duke of
Sussex took the chair as President of the
Royal Society. He thanked them for
the great honour they had conferred
upon him in electing him president, and
assured them that he should use everv

endeavour in his power, not only to ad-
vance the interests of science and of
the society, but also of every individual
member, who should be alike welcome
to him, and his house should be thrown
open, alternately on the forenoons and
evenings of Wednesdays, for the recep-
tion of the Fellows and men of science.

— . Common Council of City of Lon-
don voted rescinding the inscription on
the Monument reflecting on the Roman
Catholics.

11. Motion made in House of Com-
mons by Chancellor of Exchequer, for
Accounts " of the population of each
city and borough in England now re-
turning members to Parliament, to be
prepared from the parliamentary Census
of 1821— Of the population of each city
and town in England, not now returning
members to parliament, which amounted
in 1821 to 10,000 or upwards— Of the
population of each county in England
and Scotland, to be prepared from the
same census. — A similar return of the
population of each royal burgh in Scot-
land, now sharing in the return of a

1831.]

Chronology.

117

member to parliament, and each city not
so sharing, the population of which in
1821 exceeded 8,000."

13. Chancellor of Exchequer said in
House of Commons that his Majesty's
ministers were determined, whenever
they had the power to do so, to abolish
offices which had no duty attached to
them. " Thank God !" he exclaimed,
" the time at which this country could be
governed by patronage is past" ! ! !

15. Seventh Anniversary of London
Mechanics' Institution held, and very
numerously attended. The Lord Mayor
was present, and lit. Hon .R. Wilmot
Horton promised the Institution a Series
of lectures on statistics and political
economy, especially as affecting the con-
dition and interests of the operative and
labouring classes.

— At a meeting of the Freeholders of
Middlesex held' at Hackney, resolu-
tions were unanimously passed on the
alarming state of the country, distress
of the working classes, oppressive
weight of taxation, defective state of the
representation of the people in Parlia-
ment, and petitions founded thereon
were voted to both Houses of Parlia-
ment. Mr. Byng, member for the coun-
ty, said, " sinecures should be abolished,
and the children of the aristocracy should
not be any longer quartered on the pub-
lic."

16. Two convicts executed at Execu-
tion Dock for piracy.

— . Sessions terminated at the Old
Bailey, when 1 5 pi*isoners received sen-
tence of death : a considerable number
were transported and imprisoned for va-
rious periods.

— •. The Duke of Northumberland in-
troduced to the King at the levee, on
returning from the Lord Lieutenancy
of Ireland.

22. Lecture delivered at the Mecha-
nics' Institution, London, by the Rt.
Hon. It. AVilmot Horton, on the state of
the Country and its Taxation. He was
attended by several noblemen and gen-
tlemen.

23. Parliament adjourned to Feb. 3,
1831.

— . News arrived from Paris of the
condemnation of the Ministers of the
late King Charles X. to perpetual im-
prisonment,

— . Papers ordered in House of Com-

mons for explanation of the Sinecures,
unmerited Pensions, &c. &c.

MARRIAGES.

Hon. and Rev. John Vernon (brother
to Lord Vernon), to Frances Barbara,
second daughter of T. Duncombe, esq —
H. W. Chichester, esq., to Miss Isabella
Manners Sutton, daughter of the late
Archbishop of Canterbury. — Patrick
Persse Fitzpatrick, esq., commissioner
of Excise in Ireland, to Margaret, third
daughter of J. Godmar, esq.— Lord
Louth, to Miss Anna Maria Roche;
they were married at Sto. George's, Ha-
nover-square, by the Bishop ot London,
and previously, according to the Roman
Catholic church, by Prince Charles
Abbe de Broglie. — Earl of Jermyn, el-
dest son of the Marquis of Bristol, to
Lady C. Manners, daughter of the Duke
of Rutland. — Hon. G. Anson, second son
of late Lord Anson, to Hon. Isabella
Elizabeth Annabella, third daughter of
fhe late Lord Forrester.— J. B. Tre-
vanion, esq. to Susannah, second daugh-
ter of Sir Francis Burdett, Bart — Rev.
C. H. John Mildmay, brother to Sir H.
St. J. Mildmay, Bart., to Hon. Caroline
Waldegrave, youngest daughter of the
late Admiral Lord Badstock. — Capt. A.
Wathen, to Lady Elizabeth Jane Leslie,
youngest daughter of the Earl of Rothes.

DEATHS.

At his seat at Castle Bernard, the Earl
of Bandon. — Admiral Robert Montagu.
— Alderman Crowder, late Lord Mayor
of London ; and J. Peshlier Crowder,
esq., his brother, two days previous. — •
Lord Henley, 70.— Hon. Hugh Elliot,
80, formerly governor of Madras ; he
has left nineteen children. — The Dow-
ager Lady Lushington. — Amelia, widow
of the late Admiral Sir R. Calder.—
Rear Admiral Stiles, 7^.— Lieut. Col.
Barton, 2d Life Guards.— Very Rev.
E. Mellish, Rector of East Tuddenham,
Vicar of Honingham, and Dean of Here-
ford.—At Misterton, R. Astley, esq. 87.

DEATHS ABROAD.
At Rome, His Holiness Francois Xa-
vier Castiglione, Pope Pius VIII. — At
Paris, Mr. Benjamin Constant, 65,
member of the Chamber of Deputies.
—At Nice, Mrs. Kelly, of Castle Kelly;
and Sir Robert Williams, Bart., M.P.

MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES.

NORTHUMBERLAND.— At a nu-
merous and highly respebtable meeting
of the inhabitants of NeAvcastle-upon-
Tyne and its vicinity, held in the Guild-
hall, December 21st, the Mayor in the
Chair, it was Resolved, amongst other

resolutions — " That to the imperfect
state of the representation are mainly
to be ascribed the excessive evils with
which the country is afflicted ; among
which we may enumerate — unjust mo-
nopolies— oppressive and vexatious laws

118

Provincial Occurrences : Yorkhire, Norfolk, fyc. [JAN.

pay great attention to the Natural His-
tory, Natural Philosophy, and Minera-
logy of the county ; and to collect, if
possible, portraits of all eminent men of
the county.

— and a most profligate waste of the
public money ; forming a train of evils,
threatening, in their consequences, to
involve in distress and ruin every class
of the community."

YORKSHIRE.— A meeting was held
at Leeds, on Tuesday evening last, of
the labouring classes, when it was deter-
mined to form a junction with the " Na-
tional Union" among all trades, the ob-
ject of which was to prevent, by every
legal means, any further reduction of
wages. Resolutions were passed to the
effect that the general distress among
the working classes is attributable to un-
necessary reduction of wages ; that the
remedy lay in national unions for the
.protection of labour and independence
of working "people; and that a new
weekly paper be established, that the
poor might be certain of seeing their real
situation truly represented. This " Na-
tional Union" already consists of 100,000
workmen, and its funds amount to a con-
siderable sum. — Leeds Intelligencer, Dec.
9.

At a recent meeting of the inhabitants
of Dewsbury and the neighbourhood, se-
veral Resolutions were unanimously
passed for Reform in Parliament ; the
following is the 3d Resolution — " That,
without stating instances of wasteful
profligacy more determined in their cha-
racter, this meeting cannot but have no-
ticed a statement made in the House of
Commons, that 210 placemen receive
annually among them nearly £1,000,000.
of the public money, which sum is equi-
valent (as this meeting may be admitted
to suppose each labourer to have a wife
and two children) to what is allowed for
the sustenance of 217,000 individuals for
for the same space of time, or one place-
man receiving annually so much of the
public money as is paid as wages in the
disturbed districts to 216 working men
and their families, amounting to nearly
1,000 persons!!!

NORFOLK.— By the Abstract of
Receipts and Disbursements of the trea-
surer of this country, from Midsummer
1829 to Midsummer 1830, it appears
that the sum of £19,873. 3s. 5d. was col-
lected and expended, almost the whole
of it, in criminal jurisprudence, prisons,
&c., and the Lunatic Asylum buildings
and repairs ; the cost of 'the latter was
upwards of .£3,000. — county bridges not
quite £400. — for burying dead bodies
washed on the shore, £25. 3s.

The sixth annual meeting of the
subscribers to the Norfolk and Norwich
Museum has recently taken place, when
the report was made, and ordered to be
printed ; many valuable donations have
been received'in the different branches
of Natural History. It was suggested
at the dinner held on the occasion, to

A large fish, of the genus Delphinus,
has been taken by six fishermen at Lynn,
having grounded itself on the sands ; it
required six horses to drag it on shore —
its length was 22 feet— its circumfe-
rence 13.

WORCESTERSHIRE. — By the

treasurer of the public stock of this
county's abstract amount of receipts and
expenditure, from Michaelmas sessions
1829 to Michaelmas sessions 1830, it ap-
pears that the sum of £9,164. 8s. 5d. was
collected and expended — £8,000. of
which was wanted for jails, prisoners,
prosecutions, transports, clerk of the
peace, vagrants, lunatics, and coroners —
£6. 10s. was only required for repairing
the county bridges.

LANCASHIRE.— Dec. 4. The Pla-
net locomotive engine took the first load
of merchandize which has passed along
the Railway from Liverpool to Man-
chester. The train consisted of 18 wag-
gons, containing 135 bags and bales of
American cotton, 200 barrels of flour, 63
sacks of oatmeal, and 34 sacks of malt,
weighing altogether 51 tons 11 cwt. 1 qr.
To this must be added the weight of the
waggons and oil-cloths, viz. 23 tons 8
cwt. 3 qrs. ; the tender, water, and fuel,
4 tons ; and of fifteen persons upon the
train, 1 ton — making a total weight of
exactly eighty tons, exclusive of engine
(6 tons). The journey was performed
in 2 hours and 54 minutes, including 3
stoppages of 5 minutes each for oiling,
watering, and taking in fuel ; under the
disadvantages also of an adverse wind,
and of a great additional friction in the
wheels and axles, owing to their being
entirely new. The train was assisted
up the Rainhill inclined plane, by other
engines, at the rate of 9 miles an hour,
and descended the Sutton inclined plane
at the rate of 1C| miles an hour. The
average rate on the other parts of the
road was 12^ miles an hour, the greatest
speed on the level being 15!j miles an
hour, which was maintained for a mile
or two at different periods of the jour-
ney. Plans for no less than fourteen
rail-roads, all more or less within the
limits of the county of Lancaster, have
last week been deposited in the office of
the clerk of the peace, in Preston.

At a meeting of the rate-payers, re-
cently held at Liverpool, it was unani-
mously resolved, " That the town ard
immediate vicinity of Liverpool com-
prise a population of about 180,000 souls.
That the number of burgesses who polled
at the late election, including out-voters,
was 4401, consisting principally of per-

1831.]

Hampshire, Warwickshire, Herefordshire, fyc.

sons dependent for support on their
daily wages, and, therefore, from their
station in life, liable to be actuated by
every variety of undue influence, while
nine-tenths oJthe substantial household-
ers have no voice in the election of their
representativ2s. — That the continuance
of such flagrant abuses in the system of
representation, in an age and country ce-
lebrated for liberal views and free insti-
tutions, is an outrage on the common-
sense of mankind, and a lamentable in-
stance of the difficulty of getting rid of
enormities, however gross, when sanc-
tioned by time and blended with the
question of alleged municipal rights and
immunities."

HAMPSHIRE.— The general annual
statement of the Portsmouth and Port-
sea Savings' Bank, made up to the 20th
November 1830, shews the amount of
receipts to that period to be £79,363.
19s. 4d. ; the number of depositors,
1,673 ; charitable societies, 7 ; and
friendly societies, 20.

The inhabitants of Gosport and Ports-
mouth, at separate meetings, have pe-
titioned parliament for a reform in the
representation of the people, a reduction
of the public burden, by uncompromising
economy, and a diminution or abolition
of those taxes which press on the mid-
dling and labouring classes. And " The
humble Petition of the Owners and Occu-
piers of Land and Tithe, of Hambledon,
to the House of Commons, sheAveth, —
That the labourers, who have for many
years been reduced to a state too misera-
ble for Honest and Laborious Men to
bear, have now, being unable to endure
their sufferings longer, risen and de-
manded an augmentation of wages ; that
the farmers are unable to comply with
their demand without utter ruin to them-
selves, because the heavy taxes on the
necessaries of life take from them the
means of paying adequate wages : they
therefore pray for the repeal of those
taxes.

At Winchester assizes several prison-
ers have been convicted of arson and
destruction of agricultural property.

WARWICKSHIRE.— The exhibi-
tion of the works of modern artists at
Birmingham is closed. The number of
season tickets sold, we understand, ex-
ceeded 900 ; and the total receipts, inde-
pendent of Sir Robert Peel's donation
of £100., amounted to £840. 10s. 6d.
The exhibition has supported the pre-
vious high pretensions of the Society of
Arts. The conversaziones have been
eagerly and numerously attended, and
have tended not a little to advance the
general popularity of the institution.

HEREFORDSHIRE. ~ Hereford
County Meeting. — A meeting of the ma-
gistrates of this county was held at the

119

Shire-hall, Hereford, on Saturday last,
by desire of Earl Somers, the Lord Lieu-
tenant, and the precautionary measures
recommended by government were then
unanimously adopted. It was, however,
expressly stated by the assembled ma-
gistrates, that no act of outrage or vio-
lence was apprehended, the people of the
county appearing to be animated by the
best feelings and the most peaceable dis-
position.

The 31st exhibition of the Ross Hor-
ticultural Society took place Decem-
ber 1, and notwithstanding the wea-
ther was not very favourable, there was
a large attendance of subscribers and
their friends. Previous to the opening
of the show-room, the annual meeting
was held at the Swan hotel, when the
present officers were re-elected for the
year ensuing. The grand stand was
extremely well coloured with all the
varieties of hardy evergreens, and being
well mixed with chrysanthemums of
various colours, the effect was pleasing
and generally admired. The long table
contained upwards of 200 plates of the
choicest apples and pears, and consider-
ing the scarcity of fruit this season, the
quantity exhibited was truly surprising.
The chrysanthemums were in fine trusses
of bloom, and nearly every known va-
riety graced the exhibition. The num-
ber of specimens ticketed and entered
amounted to 434, and the evening sale
of unremoved fruits amounted to £3.
7s. 7d.

SOMERSETSHIRE.— The inhabi-
tants of Creech St. Michael, North Pe-
therton, and vicinity, following the ex-
ample of the Freeholders of Devon, have
lost no time in addressing the House of
Commons on the important subject of
Parliamentary Reform, in consequence
of the numerous and very heavy bur-
dens which have fallen on the people by
Misrepresentation in the Commons'
House of Parliament. — 1. As to inordi-
nate Taxation to support a standing
army in the time of Peace, and for the
needless purpose of supporting Sinecu-
rists and others, who hold Unmerited
Pensions. — 2. As to the severe, and, at
present, almost overwhelming pressure
of Tithes, both Lay and Ecclesiastic,
upon the depressed and overburdened
Agriculturist. — 3. As to the Abuses that
exist in our Courts of Law and Equitv,
and whereby the Poor Man is entirely
shut out from any fair competition with
the Rich — -And, lastly, they earnestly
call attention to that upon which hinge's
the whole, and without which all other
minor alterations will be of little or no
avail — namely, a full, fair, and free
Representation of the ' Whole' of c the
People,' in the Commons' House of
Parliament." — Somersetshire Gazette.

120

Provincial Occurrences : Dorsetshire, Kent, fyc.

[JAN.

DORSETSHIRE.— The inhabitants
of the island of Portland have returned
thanks to his Majesty for his donation
of £25. per annum, granted from his
private purse, towards supporting a
surgeon on the island so long as he re-
sides there, and the Dispensary remains
on its present footing.

KENT — Three convicts tried by the
Commission, have suffered the last pe-
nalty of the law at Maidstone for burn-
ing agricultural property.

SUSSEX. — Several prisoners have
been convicted at the winter assizes,
held at Lewes, for setting fire to barns,
ricks, &c. One miserable object con-
fessed having set fire to five different
places out of eight that happened near
Battle.

SURREY.— A meeting has been held
at Croydon of the freeholders of the
county, when resolutions were unani-
mously voted for a reform of Parliament,
and for the disfranchisement of the four
rotten boroughs of Haselmere, Reigate,
Gatton, and Bletchingley, and for trans-
ferring the elective franchise to eight of
the most largely populated and unre-
presented towns and hundreds in the
county, also for a reduction of taxation.

CHESHIRE.— The Spinners work-
ing in the 52 mills at Ashton-under-
Line all left their employment on Sa-
turday, and the mills are at a stand. The
men who have thus turned out for ad-
vance of wages, with the women, chil-
dren, and others dependent upon them,
amount to about 20,000 persons. The
distress in which the district will be
plunged by this event will consequently
be exceedingly severe, particularly at
this inclement season. — Macclesjield 'Cou-
rier, Dec. 18.

The Stockport paper says, " The men
parade every day with music and flags ;
and there is no doubt that many hun-
dreds of fire-arms and other weapons are
in their possession, as they are occasion-
ally partially displayed. Some of
the flags are tri-coloured, and bear the
following inscriptions: 'He that lead-
eth into captivity shall be led into cap-
tivity.'— ' He that killeth b}' the sword
shall also be killed by the sword.' — ' A
living for our labour, or no labour at all.'
— ' The labour of a nation is the wealth
of a nation.' — 4 Free Trade.' — ' Liberty
or the Sword,' &c. &c."

WALES Dec. 13 — A meeting of

the county of Montgomery, the High
Sheriff in the chair, was held at Welsh
Pool, when several resolutions were en-
tered into for Reform in the Parliamen-
tary Representation, for Rigid Economy
in Public Expenditure, and for Abolition
of Improper Pensions, and Useless

Places. '» It is only by the adoption of
such measures," says one of the resolu-
tions, u that the loyalty of the people
can be retained, the durability of the
constitution ensured, and the peace
and happiness of the kingdom pre-
served."— Petitions to Parliament were
passed ; that to House of Lords to be
presented by Lord Chancellor, and that
to House of Commons by Chancellor of
Exchequer. — Shrewsbury Chronicle.

SCOTLAND.— The inhabits of Edin-
burgh have unanimously voted, in an
assembly held recently in the Assembly
Rooms, petitions to Parliament for Le-
gislative Reform, " praying for such an
extension as may include a fair propor-
tion of the Property and Intelligence of
Scotland !" The Merchant Company
have also passed resolutions to the same
effect, as have also the inhabitants of
Leith— while theTown Council of Edin-
burgh have voted the following resolu-
tions, carried by 21 voices against 10—
" That while it appears to the Town
Council of Edinburgh that the Constitu-
tion under which we live has been the
most perfect that any country has ever
been blessed with, yet there can be no
doubt that, from the length of its endur-
ance, abuses may have crept in, and al-
terations unsuitable to the present time
may have been made on it ; but as his
Majesty's Ministers have pledged them-
selves to amend and renovate such parts
of the Constitution and Representation
as may stand in need of it, — Resolved,
that under such circumstances, and until
they are made acquainted with the de-
tails of the reform to be brought forward
in Parliament, it behoves the Town
Council to delay taking any further steps
on this difficult and important question."

IRELAND. — An extraordinary case
was lately brought before the Court of
King's Bench, Dublin. Counsel applied
on the part of a female, named Jane Dar-
ley, for the renewal of an order which
had been granted by the Court for her
discharge from the custody of the City
Marshal, in which prison she had been
confined for the extraordinary period of
thirty four years, for a debt of no more
than eleven pounds!!! Her creditor and
his attorney, and all parties interested
in the debt, had been dead for a consi-
derable period. The Court inquired why
its former order had not been acted on.
Counsel replied, that the Marshal had
refused to liberate her until she dis-
charged certain claims for fees and rents
he had on her. The Court said, if the
officer of the prison had a right to detain
her, they should not interfere. Counsel
agreed to receive a conditional order to
be served on the Marshal, who might
then shew cause. She has since been
liberated. — Dublin Morning Register.

THE

MONTHLY MAGAZINE

OF

POLITICS, LITERATURE, AND THE BELLES LETTRES.

VOL. XL] FEBRUARY, 1831. . [No. 62.

EUROPE AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE YEAR 1831.

THE past year exhibited a state of affairs unexampled since the fall of
the Roman empire — the supremacy of the multitude ! The origin of all the
modern dominations of Europe was in the power of the armed people.
The northern tribes who broke down the Roman empire were a populace,
warlike, yet but half-armed, and accustomed to obey princes and chief-
tains, yet possessed of rights which made them almost independent of
authority. They fell upon the tottering mass of the Roman empire with
a weight which crushed it ; and from the ruins they raised kingdoms
and principalities, in which the sovereign was little more than the chief
magistrate, and the government little more than a republic of soldiers.

In 1 830, the French returned nearly to the model of their ancestors in
the sixth century ; by an insurrection of the armed multitude, overthrew
the monarchy ; and established a sovereignty in its stead, in which the
governor is but the chief magistrate, and the form of the government is,
in all but name, republican.

The example of this powerful and leading people rapidly produced
imitators. The people of Brussels mastered the government, defeated
its forces, and, establishing the independence of Belgium, fully declared
their right to a separate government, a new-modeled constitution, and
the choice of a king.

The next demand of those popular rights was in Switzerland. A
peasant army rose, marched into Berne, and obtained all their demands.
The facility of their success has made their insurrection obscure ; but the
principle of the exertion of popular power to obtain popular rights was
amply established.

The flame now spread to the north ; and, on the 29th of November,
the people of Warsaw rose, drove out the Russian garrison, formed a
government, and declared the independence of Poland. In the minor
German States, the popular spirit not less displayed itself. The people
rose in Brunswick, expelled their Duke on the ground of personal inju-
ries, and have since finally given over his authority to his brother. The
same effervescence exhibited in several of the other principalities, without
proceeding to the same length, produced, at least, promises of constitu-
tional rights, which, if not performed, will, in all probability, produce

M. M. New Series.— Voi. XL No. 62. R

122 Europe at the Commencement of the Year 1831. [[FEB.

revolutions. Even in England, a new and angry feeling had begun to
spread. The abettors of popular violence, excited by the success of the
French and Belgian insurrections, became more daring, A blind and
fierce system of outrage was put in practice; and the breaking of
machines, and the burning of farm-yards, menaced the destruction of
agriculture.

A new year is before us ; and it may exceed human sagacity to anti-
cipate the nature of the changes which shall occur before its close. But
some extraordinary changes in the condition of the continental govern-
ments must be apprehended. In England — strong in her constitution,
in her position, in the power of her middle class, and the consciousness
of all wise and honourable men, that the principles of the monarchy can-
not be changed for the better — we have no reason to fear revolution. But
it is possible that a multitude of the abuses, which time or corruption
has drawn round the government, will be tolerated no longer.

The first object which stings the public feeling is, of course, the
Public Expenditure. England is taxed to ten times the amount of any
other European State. It has been computed that, in one shape or other,
every article which belongs to the support, the civilization, or the
enjoyment of life, contributes three-fourths of its value to the State ; that,
in fact, every tax-paying individual in England pays £75. out of every
£100. of his income ! The question is loudly asked — why, with the pro-
ductive soil, the temperate climate, and the singularly advantageous
geographical position of England, are the means of life more difficult to
be provided here than in any other country of Europe ? — why the same
quantity of bread which costs one penny in France — but fifteen miles from
England — should in England cost three ? — why all the other necessaries
of life are in the same proportion? — why the labourer on the Continent
lives in comfort and plenty, while the English labourer lives in penury,
and is driven to poaching, smuggling, and the parish ? — why the incomes
of the great landholders, the church, and the farmers, are all sinking,
and yet no other class is the richer ?

The general answer assigned to those queries is the inordinate taxation
which goes to support the inordinate expenditure of Government. - The
public investigation is now turned keenly on the ways in which the
national property is expended ; and the strongest anxiety is already
directed to the measures to which Parliament is pledged on the subject
of retrenchment. A topic of peculiar offence is the Pension-List. The
crowd of names which that document exhibits as sharing the public
money, has been already severely investigated, and will be brought into
inquiry with still more unsparing determination. The popular writers
demand, by what service to the State, or personal virtue, or meritorious
claim of any kind on the public, have three-fourths of those pensioners
been fixed upon the national purse? They state that, in a crowd of
instances, the only grounds which they can even conjecture are of a
kind which it is not consistent with decorum to name. In other instances,
they find the families of men who had long enjoyed highly lucrative
employments, and who, though with the most obvious means of pro-
viding for the decent subsistence of their families, preferred leading a
life of show and extravagance, living up to the last shilling of their
income, and then fastening their wives and children upon the State.
Others, who, having not even the claim of such service, contrived,
merely by some private interest, to secure this provision, and thus sup-
port individuals in rank and luxury, whose natural place, whatever their

1831.] Europe at the Commencement of the Year 1831. 123

titles may be, would be in the humblest ranks of society, and whose
bread must be earned by the far honester labour of their own hands.

Other objects of investigation must be the Sinecures, Pluralities^ and
Reversions. It is stated that the Privy Council receive, on an average,
£5,000. per annum each, or the enormous total of upwards of £000,000.
a year ! — that, of course, many of those individuals hold two, three, or
four places ; — that the land is eaten up with sinecurism ; — and that, on
this system, the worthless branches of noble families, the dependents of
ministers, and the general brood of the idle and useless, are fed out of
the earnings of the people.

It is obvious, however, that these charges fall entirely short of strik-
ing at the Constitution ; that they merely advert to abuses, and leave the
principles untouched ; that the British Constitution is still the first object
of political homage ; and that even the most violent advocates for public
change declare that their views are directed, not to the overthrow, but
to the greater activity and supremacy of the Constitution.

The state of property, as it refers to Agriculture, the Church, Manu-
factures, and Commerce, presents some new and anxious aspects.
Throughout England, the agricultural interests are in a state of de-
pression. Rents have generally fallen, or been voluntarily lowered.
The poor-rates have increased ; labour is failing ; and the agricultural
population is either in open riot, or latent discontent. The most singular
feature in all this, is the utter difficulty of ascertaining its cause. None
of the great casualties of nations — famine, war, sudden loss of market for
manufactures or produce, have occurred ; yet, undoubtedly, the crisis is
now more severe than at any former period. The political economists have,
of course, all failed in discovering either cause or remedy. The theory
of one is, that the distress is owing to the return to a circulation in coin ;
but that return is now half-a-dozen years old, and it is totally impossible
to perceive how, by giving the extraordinary power to coin, to every
man who chose to call himself a banker, any end could follow except
that which has followed in every instance of the experiment — an infi-
nite quantity of fraud, of baseless speculation, of loss among the poor,
of forgery and its consequent loss of life among the wretched people
tempted by the facility of the practice, and — as a result of the whole —
a trembling credit, which the first accident would throw into universal
bankruptcy.

As matters proceed now, every man who has value can obtain gold ;
the circulation is unchecked by any paucity of the precious metals, and
the only sufferers on the subject are the country dealer in paper, which
he can now no more manufacture into pounds, and millions of pounds,
on his sole credit, which has so often proved not worth sixpence ; or
the speculator without capital, who is ready to embark in any des-
perate enterprize, and borrow at any interest, in the hope of realizing
something or other in the chances of the world. We are told, too, that
the restricted issues of the country bankers, by preventing the farmers
from being able to obtain notes by mortgaging their crops for the time,
prevent them from keeping back their produce until the season of the
highest prices. But why should the farmers, or any other men, be aided
to keep up the market thus artificially, and extract an inordinate price
from the public necessities, by the help of fictitious money?* Thus,

* Somo remarks on this subject, from an intelligent correspondent, will be found at
p. 164.

R 2

124 Europe al the Commencement of the Year 1831. CFsB.

according to the advocates for the one-pound note, public prosperity is
to depend on two fictions — paper-money, without funds — and a mono-
poly price for corn. This is evidently against common-sense and the
nature of things ; and the cause must be sought elsewhere.

The true cause of the public pressure is, beyond all doubt, the Taxation.
No nation was ever exposed to such tremendous imposts. The taxes
of England amount to not much less than seventy millions sterling
a-year ! Twenty millions to the government; twenty to the local expen-
diture, poor-rates, highways, watching, lighting, £c. &c. ; and nearly
thirty millions to the interest of the national debt. We are to recollect
too, that this enormous sum is paid by a population of twelve millions, of
whom one half are females, and about one half of the remainder infants
and old people, classes from whose labour little can be raised ; in other
words, that about three millions of men pay upwards of twenty pounds
sterling each ! In America the taxation is nine shillings and threepence
a-head ! We certainly pay rather high for our privilege in living at
this side of the Atlantic.

This frightful taxation must be diminished within reasonable bounds
by some means or other ; the fact is beyond all dispute. The people of
England cannot be rationally expected by any government to see them-
selves reduced to extremity by enormous imposts, for the vanity, the
improvidence, or the vice of others, let them bear what name they
may. It is monstrous to conceive, that about two hundred individuals,
three-fourths of whom are almost totally unknown as public servants,
and of whom not one fiftieth ever performed any service to the State
worth fifty pounds, should yearly be suffered to draw from the exigencies
of the country upwards of £600,000 !

It is monstrous that for fifteen years of Peace, and with the most
constant assurances from the Throne that there was not the slightest
probability of War with any power of Europe, * we should have been
keeping up an army of upwards of 100,000 men ! and paying for them
at three times the rate of any European power besides ; namely, eight
millions a year ! To the advocates of this most unwise expenditure we
unhesitatingly say, that this support of a standing army is among the
most extraordinary instances in which a people of common sense have
ever suffered themselves to be misled.

In all countries a standing army is a declared evil. On the continent
the only result of the system has been to inspire kingdoms with mutual
jealousy, make military habits supersede those of all the purer, more
healthy, and more productive classes of society ; set a coxcomb with a
pair of epaulettes above the man of science, the merchant, the scholar,
the agriculturist, above every body who has any better employment
than strutting in moustaches and a laced coat. It prompts princely
cupidity to aggression on the neighbouring states, just as when every
man wore a sword, every word produced a deadly quarrel. It im-
poverishes the nation, and, after all, when the time of Invasion comes,
the only period in which it can be important for any people to have an
army, it is generally found inefficient, and the true defence of the
country is found in the multitude who have never received a shilling of
pay, and whose natural intrepidity serves their country better than all
the drilling and parading of their coxcomb hussars, lancers, life-guards,
and the whole haughty and costly crowd of encumbrances of tlie land.
But in England, with her Cliffs for an insurmountable rampart, and the

1831.] Europe at the Commencement of the Year 1831. 125

Sea for an impassable ditch ; with the most compact and vigorous popu-
lation on earth to man this mighty fortress ; with Fleets for her outposts,
invincible by human force ; with the power of sending a force on the
wings of the wind to attack any kingdom of the earth on the most
vulnerable side ; — what necessity can we have for a Standing Army ?
When all our colonies are fatal to European life, ho «r shall the pretext
be advanced, that we require this army for our colonial possessions ? It
is notorious that a militia raised in the colonies, of men seasoned to the
climate, and acquainted with the habits of the natives, and the face of
the country, is the only description of force that common sense would
think of using. The hideous mortality of the British troops in the
West Indies should have long since taught us, on the mere ground of
humanity, the senselessness of giving the defence of the West Indies to
the raw recruits of England.

We are not to be told that the state of Ireland requires a standing army.
Our answer is, that the Irish yeomanry would be more than equal to put
down any papist insurrection ; that it put down a papist insurrection be-
fore ; and that from its cheapness, its constitutional nature, and its adap-
tation to the circumstances of Ireland, it is of all forces the fittest to
put down Irish disturbance. To advert to other points.

The burnings have been repressed for the moment in some degree;
but they have not been put an end to. The capital condemnations have
neither deterred the incendiaries, nor detected the principals. It seems
unquestionable that there are some individuals, at least, of wealth, be-
hind the curtain, and neither public justice nor private security will be
attained until those criminals, tenfold more guilty than their wretched
tools, shall have fallen into the hands of the law. The state of Ireland
is the next that forces itself on our contemplation. That country exhibits
a scene which must make the members of the late ministry cover them-
selves with sackcloth and ashes, if they were capable of either shame or
repentance. The " healing measure," the " measure of unanimity," the
" infallible conciliation," has turned out to be a firebrand, as every
friend of the protestant religion and constitution told the Duke of Wel-
lington, Sir Robert Peel, and the rest of the Cabinet. They were told
as distinctly as words could tell them, " You are blindly holding out a
premium by this Emancipation, to a gang of disturbers, who live by
disturbance ; youi measure is actually alienating the whole respectable
portion of Ireland, taking the sword out of the hand of the protestant,
and stimulating the rude passions, and brute ambition of every low mob-
hunter, broken-down political gamester, and characterless hanger-on upon
the skirts of life in Ireland. Do you expect to conciliate such men as the
Irish demagogues by concession ? You might as well extinguish a mid-
night conflagration by thrusting fuel into the hand of the incendiary.
You might as well turn the robber or the cut-throat into an honest
man, by shewing him gold, or throwing the object of his hatred and
revenge into his power \"

But we find it next to impossible to give any man credit for the sim-
plicity of believing that this measure would produce any fruits, but
those which it is producing at this hour. Ignorant as ministers might
be, we could not imagine them ignorant enough for that. Yet on what
grounds the offence was committed, we will not even conjecture. The
mystery is one of bosoms that we disdain to fathom. There let it lie,
among the dreams of baffled politicians : and lie only to embitter the re-

]2(J Europe at the Commencement of the Year 1831. [[FEB.

flections of men driven out of power by national scorn. But, for this
blunder, if to them it were a blunder, we are paying severely now ;
and well may we execrate the " Measure," which has caused a state of
Ireland, unexampled in the history even of Irish turbulence, and which
will speedily, unless changed by some interposition little short of miracu-
lous, cover the land with civil blood.

Yet in the midst of all this regret, it is scarcely possible to suppress a
bitter and contemptuous joy at the recompence which the crowd of Irish
Protestant abettors of the party are undergoing clay by day. We now
see the popularity-hunters trembling at the work of their own hands,
attempting to put down by their silly signatures the fierce spirit which
they raised by their own miserable partizanship, and scoffed at for the
attempt. We see the whole tribe turned into cyphers. The Viceroy
received in silence, or in sneers, by the mob, to " conciliate" whose
huzzas this personage stooped to the flattery of the populace ; and we
see him treated with the most insolent defiance by the leader of that
populace. We well remember his letter to Dr. Curtis, telling the papists
to " agitate, agitate, agitate ;" and we contemptuously exult that the in-
dividual who dared to utter this advice, is now compelled to witness the
result of this "agitation." But, enough of such triflers. A sterner
time is coming. To repel the? storm is now all but impossible, at all
events it will never be repelled by weak counsels, nor feeble instruments.
The fate of kingdoms is not to be averted by such means as reside in the
hearts and heads of the present administrators of Ireland.

Their arrest of O'Connell betrays the tardiness of their sense of their
situation. They have not ventured to seize the disturber on the ground
which would be intelligible to all men, that of conspiring to rouse the
populace against the'" Incorporation" of England and Ireland, a portion
of the Constitution as distinctly declared by law to be irrevocable, as the
establishment of a house of peers, or the throne. But they have
dwindled down the charge into a legal subtlety, which will be sure to
sink under them before a jury ; and the defeat of this frivolous attempt
will only inspirit the disturbance, and place the disturber beyond all
control. " Evading a proclamation !" what is this, but what O'Connell
has declared it to be, " giving no opportunity for the proclamation to seize
on him ?" The very words imply that he has not come within the grasp
of the proclamation ; and he is now to be seized, in virtue of that pro-
hibition which he is acknowledged not to have violated. But the error
lies even deeper. By making O'Connell's crime to be against a procla-
mation of a Viceroy, and not against the Constitution of the Empire, it
makes the charge degenerate at once into a squabble with an official,
whose own wrords are on record, advising " agitation." It opposes
O'Connell, not to the majesty of British justice and the established rights
of the empire, but to a viceroy who scribbled an actual exhortation to
the populace to " agitate ;" and to a secretary whose parliamentary
harangues were directed against the spirit of the acts which he is now
promulgating with his pen. To the principles of the governors, let them
throw in the principles of Lord Plunkett, and we shall see how the scale
will vibrate. But the contest will be one of mere person. The crime
against the Constitution will be merged in the contest with the indi-
vidual ; it will be altogether an affair of character ; and no man will care
a straw how it is decided. But this state of things cannot last; popular
fury will not be calmed by thq flimsy contrivances of lawyers. The

1031.] Kin-ope at the Commencement, of the Year 1831. 127

first spark will awaken the whole mass of combustibles into a flame, and
the flame will sweep the land.

The aspect of the Continent is calculated to excite the strongest anxiety
in every mind that feels peace to be essential to the good of nations.
France, at all times the prime-mover of the Continent, is gradually
sinking from its monarchical attitude. Every hour gives some new
evidence of the growing force of Republicanism. Lafayette's abandon-
ment of the king, and his open declaration that he is dissatisfied with
the royal measures, on the ground that they are not sufficiently repub-
lican ; the rapid changes in the cabinet, all tending to Republicanism ;
the haughty and domineering spirit of the populace, who palpably
consider themselves as the ruling power of France ; and the fiery
generation of clubs in the capital and in the provinces, holding doctrines
directly subversive of royal authority, all combine to predict the
erection of a great Republic in the centre of Europe.

The Republicanism of Belgium is still triumphant. Belgium, secretly
sustained by France, has wrested the recognition of its independence
from the European powers ; and is, like France, propagating its
principles through the entire extent of Europe. Touching the dominions
of Prussia in so many points, the influence is already felt there, and
the Prussian troops are kept perpetually in readiness for the field, the
Prussian court is kept in constant alarm ; and the most trivial squabble
of the populace throws the whole government into tremors.

Even in the Hanoverian territory the revolutionary spirit has broke
out. On the 8th, 9th, and 10th of January, a crowd of the citizens
and students of Gottingen, arming themselves as a Burgher guard,
rushed through the streets, and demanded a " New Constitution/' The
Duke of Cambridge was sent for, and his arrival was alone awaited, to
decide the complexion of this extravagant proceeding.

The cause of Poland is still undecided. The people are enthusiastic,
but powerless against the gigantic force of Russia. The Czar's mani-
festo leaves no hope of reconciliation, and he has directed upon this
most unhappy and long injured of all countries, an army to which,
humanly speaking, it can offer no resistance. But a formidable obstacle
has already interposed, in the season; whose singular mildness has
hitherto checked the movement of the Russian troops. The roads are
rivers of sleet and mire, the country is a deluge, the artillery and
waggons are fixed to the ground, and the campaign, which would have
been favoured by the keenest violence of winter, has been hitherto
defeated by a softness like that of spring.

Another obstacle, whose name itself strikes terror, is reported to
have arisen to repel the invader. The Cholera ! is said to have dis-
played itself in the Russian cantonments. This dreaduil disease, acting
upon the crowded population of a Russian camp, would speedily
unstring all the sinews of war. But we may well tremble for all
Europe, at the announcement of an enemy that, if the sword slew its
thousands, would slay its ten thousands.

Negociations on the Polish affairs have been already announced by
the French minister at war. French officers have already taken service
in the Polish levies, the popular feeling of France is eagerly turned on
Polish liberty, and it can scarcely be doubted that if the invasion be
deferred for a few months more, or if the Poles are able to resist for a

128 En raps at the Commencement of the Year 1831. [FKB.

while the impression of the Russian armies, they will receive direct
assistance from France.

But, whatever direction may be given to the Continent, one fact
is unquestionable -that no year, since the commencement of the first
French revolution, ever opened with such universal preparations for
War. France is already forming immense camps on her frontiers, and
raising her regular force to nearly half a million of men. Austria is
arming new levies, remounting her cavalry, and sending troops by the
ten thousand into Italy. The Piedmontaise army is to be instantly
raised to 130,000 men. Poland is, naturally, exerting all her strength,
and ordering every man into the field. Russia has ordered a levy through-
out her whole empire. Every manufactory of arms in Europe rings day
and night with the note of preparation. Every Cabinet is holding
anxious deliberations. Every continental king is alarmed for his throne.
Of all the powers of Europe, the only ones who seem to be beyond
the sphere of this terror, are Sultan Mahmoud, and our own Monarch.
Yet the Sultan is incessantly labouring to reinvigorate the national
strength, and prepare, by the full development of the remaining ener-
gies of Moslemism, for the storm of war which hangs over him from the
North. Our country is still a fortunate exception. Yet, if we can have
no fear of foreign conquest, nor of domestic revolution, we have our
trials too, and we shall see them deepen from day to day, unless the old
spirit of England return, and we meet the evil by that fearless determi-
nation to extinguish abuses, to purify the conduct of public affairs, and
at all risks to do our duty, without which the fate of all governments
tells us there is no substantial power.

TO A LADY, READING.

OH ! while polluted lips impart

High virtue's maxims, boasts, professions,
Which wake no echoes in the heart,

And leave on our's but cold impressions, —
While in thy life a model shines,

Of all that's innocent and holy,
AH nature prompts, and truth refines,

In mind so wise, in heart so lowly ; —

'Tis strange to hear thee breathe the names

Of faults which thy pure soul is scorning ;
Such zeal thy blest example claims,

We scarce require, from thee, such warning.
Wanderers, who long to find the right,

Need but be told thine own sweet story ;
And none but fiends, who fear the light,

Would cast one shadow on thy glory.

I — who on none, save thee, e'er gazed

With envy — daring not, nor deigning—
Still love thee more than I have praised,

Feel more than are thy flatterers feigning.
Speak what thou wilt, our smiles and tears

" Chast'riing, by pity and by terror" —
And Heaven preserve thy future years,

As free from sorrow as from error! I- H.

1831.] [ 129 ]

ANECDOTES OF BRAZIL.

ONE thing above all others which extends our acquaintance with hu-
man affairs, and enlarges and enlightens the mind — what most eminently
distinguishes the present age from every other, is the facility of loco-
motion. As little is thought now-a-days of circumnavigating the globe,
as was formerly of travelling to the northern extremity of our island. In
fact, no one can pretend to the rank of a traveller who has not either
pic-nicked at the foot of the Pyramids., climbed the heaven-kissing peaks
of the Himalaya range, hunted the ostrich on the Pampas, or listened to
the deafening roar of Niagara. With what ineffable contempt will this
superb locomotive creature look down on his fellow, who merely tours
over the European Continent, dreaming away his life amidst the frivolities
of its numerous capitals, but deriving no more information of men and
manners than what strikes his organs of vision through the windows of
his well-padded travelling- carriage ! Who would now, with a grain of
the odi profanum vulgus in his composition, condescend to ascend
Mont Blanc, vulgarized as it has lately been by the profanation of
Cockney footsteps ! The exclusive has now literally nothing left but a
voyage to the North Pole, or an attempt to discover the course of the
mysterious Niger.

The country that, more than any other, has engaged the attention of
mankind in our day, is South America. We do not say that the
people of this continent are either, on account of their character or their
actual achievements, the most interesting 011 the face of the globe ; but,
in their accidental position, they unquestionably are so. Their grand
experiment in government and social regeneration ; their trial in their
voyage onwards to a mighty fulfilment, or a still mightier failure, we
cannot but feel places them as no other nation is, for concentrating on
them the gaze of a liberal and philosophical curiosity.

So far back as the days of old Montaigne and Montesquieu, the inde-
pendence of the Spanish- American colonies was a political problem, the
solution of which had occupied the attention of speculative politicians ;
while of late years the revolution which had taken place in men's minds
on the subject of colonies, had enabled the practical statesman to demon-
strate the event with mathematical certainty. The boundless extent of
these magnificent colonies — the colossal proportions of .their natural fea-
tures— their riches, real or fabulous — added to the romantic halo shed
around them by the history of their early conquest — had, in every age
since their first discovery powerfully inflamed the imagination of men,
and generated a wild and chimerical spirit of adventure. It is not, there-
fore, singular that, at the earliest dawn of independence in the Western
World, men of every rank and denomination should have looked towards
it as an extended field, for the development of some long-cherished
scheme of daring ambition, or all-grasping avarice.

The martial spirits of Europe, whose sphere of action had been nar-
rowed by the setting of the sun of Napoleon, flocked in crowds to the
patriot standards. The speculative politician dreamed that the moment
for the realization of his Utopia was at length arrived. It was, however,
in the mercantile world that the vibrations of the chord excitement was
felt with the most powerful effect. The Spanish El Dorado, so long
closed to the other nations of the world by the singular system of colo-
nial policy of the mother-country, was at length brought within the
M.M. New Series.— Vol. XI. No. 62. S

130 Anecdotes of Brazil. [[FEB.

grasp of British enterprise; and, in the blind infatuation of the moment,
they wildly imagined that the dream of poetry and romance — the golden
age — was about to be substantially realized in the nineteenth century.

It is easy, I am aware, to reason after an event ; for the causes and
effects being then developed, there remains only to place them in their
juxtaposition to arrive at the wished-for result. The history of this
singular period, unparalleled in the annals of human folly, will be
pointed at by the future historian as a faro on the ocean-rocks of time —
a salutary warning to after ages. As a climax to this mania, there
was wanting but the formation of a company, whose object was, Titan-
like, to scale heaven by piling the huge mass of Cotapayi on the giant
Chimborazo.

But the illusion has passed away. This fata morgana of the mind,
like its prototype in the natural world, after dazzling the imagination
with its fantastic imagery, has disappeared. Spanish- America, the sub-
ject of so many magnificent aspirations and conceptions, has proved a
failure. A fearful reaction has been felt through every gradation of
life. The soldier found there a grave — the merchant, ruin ; while the
political projector has heard the death-knell of his hopes in the words of
the master-spirit of the revolution : — " After twenty years' struggle,"
said the Liberator Bolivar, " we have obtained our independence, but
at the sacrifice of every thing else !"

While the tide of public attention was setting with headlong current
towards Spanish-America, Brazil — in whatever point we view her —
indisputably the most valuable and important part of this vast continent,
attracted to itself none of the capital or enterprise so prodigally lavished
on the sister colonies. This may, in some measure, be accounted for
from the barrenness of her early history, and the absence of all that
could gratify the high-seasoned and romantic taste of the present age.
What the sagacious mind of the great Pombal was unable to carry into
execution, the terror of Napoleon's arms finally accomplished. Threat-
ened with the fate of the Spanish monarchy, the house of Braganza
transferred the seat of their empire from Portugal to their extensive
transatlantic dominion. Although our commercial relations with Brazil
have, ever since this event, been on a most extensive and important
scale, it is really singular how little we yet know of the interior of this
beautiful country. Thinly scattered along an immense line of maritime
coast, the English residents in Brazil, with very few exceptions, were
all engaged in commercial pursuits, and were composed of a class of
men who, from their previous habits of life, were as little gifted with the
requisite powers of observation and deduction, for forming just and ade-
quate ideas of the vast resources and capabilities of the country in which
they resided, as they were formed by education and intellectual attain-
ments for inspiring the Brazilians with any more elevated ideas of our
own national character, than such as the plodding virtues of a counting-
house could convey. But a new era has dawned: the vast mineral
resources of this country are on the eve of rapid development, by the
combined operations of British science and enterprise, assisted by a
train of favourable circumstances, that must ensure the most splendid
success.

In this early stage of her history, it would be as futile as vain to spe-
culate on the future destinies that await Brazil. I am well aware that it
may be alleged, that all improvement is there personal, and that, in fact,

1831.] Anecdotes of Brazil. 131

the whole social system is dependent on so frail a tenure as the existence
of one man. "What countervailing chance," it maybe asked, " does
there exist for this country, that, in the event of the present emperor
being snatched from this life ere he has consolidated the disjointed parts
of his immense empire, a similar reaction to that which, in the Spanish
colonies, has reduced every thing to a chaos of confusion, may not
happen ?" On a superficial view, it will perhaps be difficult satisfac-
torily to answer these objections. But it must be recollected that the
Brazilian people are eminently monarchical in their habits and prejudices
— that, for upwards of twenty years, they have been accustomed to the
residence of a court— that the example of the Spanish colonies, so far
from proving alluring, will operate as a salutary warning to them — to
say nothing of the difference of caste and colour — an insuperable obsta-
cle to a republican form of government wherever it exists.

What most forcibly strikes the stranger in Brazil, is the extraordinary
melange of antitheses in the character of its people. Singularly blen-
ded with the most artless simplicity he discovers consummate hypocrisy,
the basest superstition with the most frightful latitudinarianism, and abject
servility with an impatience of control bordering on savage indepen-
dence. Unlike the old countries of Europe, morality in Brazil is at a
lower ebb in the country than in the towns, in the interior than on the
sea-coast. In the latter, by means of commerce, the inhabitants have
been kept up to a certain degree of civilization, though, it must be con-
fessed, of the lowest ebb ; but in the interior, where the restraints of
religion can no longer be observed, the only preservative has failed, and
the descendants of the first settlers have fallen into a state infinitely
below that of the aborigines they have displaced. Accustomed, almost
from the cradle, to wander at will over their extensive and boundless
plains, they naturally imbibe ideas of independence, which spurn at all
social control, and which but too often betray them into fits of lawless
passion, productive of the most fatal results. Of this singular state of
manners, I had myself a melancholy example, while in the interior of
the province of Bahia. A Senhor d'Eugenho (a planter), of high rank
and influence, on his return from the chace, stopped at the house of a
lavrador (a farmer), and requested refreshment and shelter from the
burning heat of a vertical sun. The farmer was from home ; but he
was, in the mean time, hospitably received by his wife, who adminis-
tered to his wants with the best her humble residence could afford. The
senhora was a remarkably pretty woman, and her interesting appearance
caused her guest to forget the better feelings of his nature. The propo-
sals thus made were indignantly repelled : and, baffled in his criminal
designs, the brutal ruffian precipitately quitted the house, breathing
revenge — which he was not long in executing ; for, on the night of
the same day, he returned at the head of a band of hirelings, set fire
to the house, inhumanly butchered the husband, and carried off the
unfortunate wife. His high rank and influence locked the wheel of
justice, and enabled him to enjoy in triumphant impunity the fruits of his
atrocious crime.

In this world, the merits of every human conception, whether on a
narrow or an extended scale, must be measured by the success of its prac-
tical application. Those institutions which, in the improved state of
European society, are found to be so prejudicial to its best interest, and
dangerous in their operation, were, at the hour of their birth, and during

S 2

132 Anecdotes of Brazil. [FEB.

a long subsequent period of years, attended with results as beneficial as
they afterwards proved vicious.

No one, who is not blinded by bigotry or hurried away by feelings of
romance, will regret the abolition in Europe of the Society of Jesus ;
but I know not if he can view with equal complacency the abolition of
this celebrated order in South America. The many vices so justly
charged to the disciples of Loyola must not prevent our acknowledging
the numerous benefits which both literature and science have received
from them. It is here, in South America — for the discovery of most of
the valuable productions of which Europe is indebted to the Jesuits —
that the lover of humanity may be permitted to mourn over their fall.
Their singular system of government at the missions — the subject of such
contending opinions — will be best estimated by comparing the present
deplorable state of morals in those districts with the period when they
were subject to the jurisdiction of their order. To the absence of all
religious instruction is to be attributed the singular state of manners
which so strongly marks the interior province of Brazil. The clergy
are in numbers few, while their flocks are scattered over benefices
which in extent, at least, will rival a European province. Although I
have witnessed some splendid instances of religion and piety among the
clergy, the major part of them are totally indifferent to the spiritual
weal of their flocks. Thus it but too often happens that those great
scenes of life — birth, marriage, and death — pass unhallowed by the rites
of religion, and fail to excite those finer feelings which embellish our
existence.

If the interior provinces of the empire are so miserably provided with
spiritual pastors, the remark does not apply to the sea-coast, in the
towns of which the church militants, from the haughty Dominican to the
dirty Franciscan, literally swarm. I have often been forcibly struck
with the exquisitely fine taste for the picturesque displayed by these rever-
end fathers in the choice of the sites of their convents. In fact, all the
ceremonies of the Romish church are on a scale of gorgeous magnifi-
cence, admirably calculated for the purpose of dazzling the imagination
of an ignorant people. On one occasion, I lionized, in company with a
party of British officers, the city of Bahia. Among other objects, we
visited the convent of St. Francis, which, for its extent and the splen-
dour of its internal decorations, powerfully elicited the admiration of the
late king on his first arrival at Brazil — a sovereign whose ideas of con-
ventual magnificence were certainly fixed at an elevated point. After
devoting some time to its numerous chapels and richly-decorated shrines,
our attention was forcibly arrested by a most singular spectacle. In a
small glass case was a wax figure of the infant Jesus, but dressed in a
style so singularly outre, as Avould have provoked the risibility of a San-
ton. Picture for a moment the infant Saviour in a wig a I'aile de pigeon
—a court-dress of la vieille COM/% blazoned with stars and orders — a
cocked-hat and sword completed the toilette! — certainly calculated to
produce a laugh at the expense of our cicerone, who apparently guessed
what was passing in our minds ; for he said to us —

" Senhores, in religion, as in every thing else, fashion will assert her
empire. Formerly, the image of the Saviour, arrayed in the simple
tunic of the East, was sufficient to command the reverence of the multi-
tude ; but now," he added, with a smile, " nothing goes down with them
but a full court-dress/'

1 831 .] Anecdotes of Brazil. 133

The revenues of the convent would, I have no doubt, have borne
ample testimony to the justice of the reverend father's remark. As we
were quitting the convent, one of our party, a youngster, indulged in a
jest on the ridicule of some passages in the life of St. Francis, which
were rudely delineated in Dutch tiles on the walls of the corridors. To
our surprise, he was sharply rebuked — though I thought, at the moment,
more in jest than earnest — by the lay-brother, in our own vernacular
tongue. On our eagerly questioning him as to where he had acquired
his knowledge of English, he told us that he had been for ten years a
mizen-top-man in the British navy j and, at the close of the war, being
paid off, he returned to Portugal, where he exchanged the blue jacket
for the flowing robes of St. Francis. Judging from his appearance, he
had no reason to be dissatisfied with his new mode of life. As the door
of the convent swung heavily on its hinges after us, the aphorism "from
the sublime to the ridiculous" forcibly occurred to me.

To one accustomed to the gaieties and amusements of European
society, nothing can be imagined more dull and insipid than life in
Brazil. The existence of the Brazilian may be likened to a stagnant
pool, unmarked by any thing to enliven its undeviating monotony, or
embellish its career. In most of the large towns there are theatres, many
of them really handsome structures ; but the artists are execrable — while
their performances consist of a few miserable translations from the
French and Spanish dramas. During Lent, sacred pieces — termed,
during the middle ages, " Mysteries" — are still performed, arid, in the
shape of dramatic representation, were decidedly the best things I saw.
Familiar intercourse between families is almost totally unknown j their
indolence and the intense heat of the climate render visiting too great
an exertion. The vrais spectacles du pays are the churches, which, on the
high festivals, are sure to be crowded. In the cool of a moonlight even-
ing, so beautiful in a tropical climate, a Brazilian family will sometimes
sally forth. Their order of march is conducted according to all the
rules of the military art ; — their advance-guard formed by a sable-
coloured duenna and her attendants ; at some distance follow the young
senhoras, in pairs, according to age — their rear scrupulously guarded by
the elder branches of the family. In spite of all their vigilance, how-
ever, I have often observed a group of gallants hovering, like guerillas,
on the flank of the column, succeed, by a dashing manoeuvre, in con-
veying some love-token into the hands of a pretty brunette, whose dark
gazelle eye danced with joy at their success. At others, they may be
seen inhaling the evening breeze in their spacious verandahs ; the
mother engaged in animated colloquy with a solemn friar ; the father
discussing the politics of the day ; while the younger branches of the
family form a beautiful group in the fore-ground of the picture, and sing
to a guitar accompaniment some of their sweet modenhas, with all the
impassioned tones of their sunny climes.

The political independence, while it cost the Spanish-American
colonies a twenty years' struggle to effect, was in Brazil achieved in
only as many months — a result, produced rather by the operation of
intrigue than the force of arms. The constitutional system of Portugal,
proclaimed in Brazil in 1821, was a prologue to the grand drama of
independence. Previous to the dawn of this eventful period, the poli-
tical condition of this extensive colony had been as still and unruffled as
a mountain-lake. Unlike the neighbouring Spanish colonies, she had

134 Anecdotes of Brazil [FKB.

not been systematically debased by a tyrannical system of colonial
government; but, on the contrary, had enjoyed, ever since the removal
of the seat of empire from Europe, all the privileges and advantages of
an independent kingdom. Under the mild and paternal government of
the house of Braganza, she was silently making gigantic strides in the
march of civilization. The political horizon, hitherto so bright and
serene, now became clouded ; the flood-gates of ambition were burst
open, and a torrent of new opinions deluged the country. Liberty, inde-
pendence, the rights of man, and the dignity of human nature, with other
abstract metaphysical questions — the very names of which they were
previously unacquainted with — now engrossed the minds of the Brazi-
lians to the exclusion of every other subject. In the blind infatuation of
the moment, they enthusiastically dreamed that the golden age was
about to be substantially realized ; and that, too, without any other exer-
tion on their part than vociferating from morning till night, " Viva a
const it H cid !" — <f Now that Brazil has a constitution," said a young
officer to me one day, " England is no longer anything." A very few
months taught them the fallacy of their opinions. Disappointed in their
magnificent conceptions of the constitutional system, they watched with
intense anxiety the star of independence just rising on their political
horizon. Ardent, of a lively imagination, and as susceptible of impres-
sion as mercury itself, the Brazilian was easily wrought on by the
master-spirits of the revolution. The new mania spread with incon-
ceivable rapidity from one end of the country to the other. The ideas
of the mass of the political changes going on,, must have been vague and
indeterminate in the extreme ; for I have heard the soldiery vociferating
in the same breath, " The perpetual union of Brazil with Portugal for
ever !" and then, in singular juxtaposition. " Independence for ever,
and death to royalists !"

I was one day highly amused with a colloquy which I overheard
between a Sertanejo, just arrived from the interior,, and his correspon-
dent in the capital. " Amigo," said he, (( what means this ' Indcpen-
cia !' which I hear in every body's mouth?" — "What does it mean,
indeed !" rejoined the other, with a look of the most profound political
sagacity ; " why, simply this — that the English merchant who lives
yonder will now be obliged to sell us his merchandize for almost
nothing." — " Oh !" rejoined the other, with something like a tone of
misgiving, " how will he, in that case, be able to purchase my hides ?"
— " Independence will do every thing; give yourself no concern!" was
the reply. The prophecy, so confidently put forth by the pseudo-poli-
tician, was not realized. The ardently-desired political change was
effected ; but the English merchant still continued to ask and obtain the
same prices as before for his wares ; while the Sertanejo found, to his
astonishment, that many of the channels through which he used to dispose
of his hides were most unaccountably dried up. At last, they sagaciously
discovered that they had committed a grand mistake by choosing a
monarchical form of government. A republic was the grand panacea
for their wants ; but their further career around the political zodiac was
arrested by the stern decision of the Emperor Pedro. Scarcely seated
on his new-raised throne, than revolution broke out at the very gates of
his palace ; the Emperor felt that there are moments when to temporize
is madness — to hesitate, is death ! With admirable firmness he stopped the
wheel of revolution, already in full career ; overturned, at the head of

1831.] Anecdotes of Brazil. 135

his guards, the constitution ; and gave another, infinitely better adapted
to the previous habits and imperfect political education of his people.
Although the minds of the Brazilian people can scarcely be said to have
been prepared for the change, still a great step nas been gained : the
seeds of genuine freedom have been deeply implanted in the soil, and
will, at the proper season, shoot up in luxuriant health and vigour. The
dignity of man is no longer insulted by the degrading despotism of the
old court. The conduct of Don Pedro beautifully contrasts with that
of his late mother, and his brother Miguel, whose arbitrary exaction of
the most servile deference was carried to an excess scarcely credible to
one accustomed to the free institutions of our own country.

The earliest dawn of Miguel's career gave indication of the fiery
wrath which has since marked its meridian height. While yet a child,
he was remarkable for his tyrannical and cruel disposition : his chief
delight consisted in tormenting animals, or in transfixing the baratos
(cockroaches) with pins, and contemplating with savage joy their excru-
ciating torture. No people, I am aware, are more skilful in heaping
opprobrium on a man than the Brazilians ; but the following anecdote,
which I had from a source to which I am inclined, on most occasions,
to give implicit credence, displays a cold-blooded depravity of mind and
singleness of purpose perfectly characteristic of the individual.

Miguel, at the age of fourteen, had formed into a Lilliputian battalion
the sons of the hidalgos about the court. These young soldiers were
distinguished by all the pomp and circumstance of warriors of a larger
growth. On one occasion, two of these young noblemen absented them-
selves for a couple of days together from the morning parade. On
making their reappearance, they were put under arrest by Miguel's
orders, and a court-martial assembled to try them for desertion. Of this
most extraordinary tribunal, Miguel constituted himself the president ;
the proceedings were hurried through, and, to the horror and astonish-
ment of the two youthful culprits, sentence of death passed upon them,
by the unanimous voice of all its members. Miguel was resolved that
the denouement of this tragedy should as rapidly follow. They were
immediately led out to execution — the platoon had already taken its
ground — when one of the king's chamberlains, observing a more than
usual bustle in the court below, rushed down, and fortunately, in time
to save the two victims on the brink of destruction.

As I heard this anecdote, so have I given it. Even in ordinary life,
it is often difficult to arrive at truth — but still more so in a court where
every thing is coloured by flattery, or distorted by detraction.

[ 136 ] [FEB.

• CARMEN 1)1 SEPOI-CKI.

COME to my narrow bed —

My cold and calm sojourn !
No riot there is bred,

No raging passions burn ;
No cruel wrongs their poison shed —
Come to my narrow bed !

Come to my narrow bed —

To her whom thou didst love !
In life we could not wed,

And death our faith will prove ;
Come to thy nuptial with the dead-
Come to my narrow bed !

Come to my narrow bed ! —

Six boards the couch compose ;
The worm, our bridemaid, at my head

Attends our long repose ;
Thy last of life is well nigh sped —
Come to my narrow bed !

Come to my narrow bed ! —
Life hath no rest so sweet ;

With me thou canst not dread

The sod at head and feet,
Where Spring's sweet flowers are bred —

Come to my narrow bed !

Come to my narrow bed ! —

No toil awaits thee there ;
Pain never racks the weary head,

Unknown is carking care :
Come where no grief can ever tread —
Come to my narrow bed !

Come to my narrow bed ! —
There holy peace is given ;
There care-worn souls are led

Up to the land of heaven,
To taste of bliss unlimited —
Come to my narrow bed !

Come to my narrow bed !-

Come to thy parted bride !
Sweet is the slumber, 'mid the dead,

Of lovers side by side :
Come, by our long-told love, and wed—-
Come to my narrow bed !

1831 .J [ 137 ]

THE LONELY MAN OF THE OCEAN.*
BY THE AUTHOR OF " THE DEMON-SHIP."

IT was on the evening of her departure for a transatlantic voyage,
that the quarter-deck of an English man-of-war, lying in the Tagus,
was splendidly illuminated, in honour of a farewell entertainment given
by the British officers to a favoured selection of the residents of Lisbon.

No scene of gaiety presents a more picturesque appearance than that
exhibited by the festive decorations of a full-sized man-of-war ; and, on
the present occasion, the Invincible was not behind her sisters of the
ocean in the arrangements of her marine festivities. Her quarter-deck
was covered by an awning of gay and party-coloured flags, whose British
admixture of red glowed richly and gaily in the light of the variegated
lamps, which, suspended on strings, hung in long rows from the masts
and rigging of the vessel. To a spectator, standing at the verge of her
stern, the quarter-deck, with its awning, gay lights, and distinct groups
of figures, might almost have resembled the rural and diversified scene
of a village pleasure-fair ; while behind, the faces of hundreds of sailors,
peeping from comparative obscurity on the gaieties of their officers,
formed a whimsical and not unpicturesque back-grouud. Below, the
tables of the ward-room were spread with the most delicate and even
costly refreshments. All was mirth and apparently reckless gaiety ; and
it seemed as if the sons of Neptune, in exercising their proverbial fond-
ness for the dance, and acknowledged gallantry to their partners, had
forgotten that the revolution of twenty-four hours would place a world
of waters between them and the fair objects of their devotion, and would
give far other employment for their limbs than the fascinating measures
to which they now lent them.

There were, however, two beings in that assembly whose feelings of
grief, extending from the heart to the countenance, communicated to the
latter an expression which consorted ill with the gaiety of the surround-
ing scene. One of these countenances wore the aspect of an intense
grief, which yet the mind of the possessor had strength sufficient to keep
in a state of manly subjection; the other presented that appearance of
unmixed, yet unutterable woe, which woman alone is capable either of
feeling or meekly sustaining in silence. Christian Loeffler and Ernestine
Fredeberg had been married but seven days, yet they were now passing
their last evening together ere Loeffler sailed, a passenger in the Invin-
cible, to the Brazils. Why circumstances thus severed those so recently
united by the holiest ties, and why the devoted Ernestine was unable to
accompany her husband, are queries that might be satisfactorily answered
if our limits permitted. But the fact alone can here be stated.

The husband and wife joined the dance but once that evening, and
then — publish it not at Almack's — they danced together ! Yet their
hearts sickened ere the measure was ended ; and retiring to the raised
end of the stern, they sate apart from the mirthful crowd, their coun-
tenances averted from those faces of gladness, and their eyes directed
towards the distant main, which shewed dismal, dark, and waste, wben
contrasted with the bright scene within that gay floating-house of plea-
sure. Christian Loeffler united a somewhat exaggerated tone of senti-

* Should the circumstances of this story be criticized as overdrawn, the writer can affirm
that the main event is founded on fact ; an assertion often advanced, and seldom believed,
yet not the less true in the present instance.

M.M. New Scries. VOL. XI.— No. 62. T

138 The Lonely Man of the Ocean. [FEB.

ment with a certain moral firmness of mind, which is not unfrequently
combined in the German character, and which, joining high-strung feel-
ings with powrers of soul sufficient to hold them in subjection, presents
.an exterior composed, and even phlegmatic, while the soul within glows
like ignited matter beneath a surface of frigidity. •

The revels broke up ; and ere the sun had set on the succeeding day,
the so recent pleasure-vessel was ploughing her solitary way on the
Atlantic j her festive decorations vanished like a dream, and even the
shores that had witnessed them were no longer within sight.

On the second day of the voyage, the attention of Loeffler was forcibly
arrested by the livid and almost indescribable appearance of a young
seaman, who was mounting the main-shrouds of the vessel. Christian
called to him, inquired if he were ill, and, in the voice of humanity,
counselled him to descend. The young man did not, however, appear to
hear the humane caution ; and ere the lapse of a few seconds, he loosed
his hold on the main-yards which he had reached, and rushing, with
falling violence, through sails and rigging, was quickly precipitated to
the deck. Loeffler ran to raise him ; but not only was life extinct, even
its very traces had disappeared, and — unlike one so recently warm with
vitality — the features of the youth had assumed the livid and straight-
ened character of a corpse long deprived of its animating principle.

The log-book, however, passed a verdict of et accidental death,
occasioned by a fall from the main-yard," on the youth's case; and as
such it went down in the marine record, amid notices of fair weather
and foul, notwithstanding Loeffler's repeated representations of the
young seaman's previous appearance. Christian's testimony was fated
ere long to obtain a fearful credence. On the succeeding day several
of the crew sickened ; and ere the lapse of another twenty-four hours,
death as well as sickness began to shew itself. The captain became
alarmed, and a report was soon whispered through the vessel that the
hand of some direful, base, or revengeful Portuguese had mingled poison
with the festive viands which had been liberally distributed to the
whole crew at the farewell entertainment of the Invincible. Loeffler,
although a German, was no great believer in tales of mystery and dark
vengeance. A more fearful idea than even that of poison once or twice
half-insinuated itself into his mind, but was forced from it with horror.

The wind, which had blown favourably for the first ten days of the
voyage, now seemed totally to die away, and left the vessel becalmed in
the midway ocean. But for the idle rocking occasioned by the under
swell of the broad Atlantic waves, she might have seemed a fixture to
those seas ; for not even the minutest calculable fraction in her latitude
and longitude could have been discovered, even by the nicest observer,
for fourteen days. All this while a tropical sun sent its burning,
searching rays on the vessel, whose increasing sick and dying gasped
for air ; and unable either to endure the suffocation below, or the fiery
sunbeams above, choked the gangways in their restless passage to and
from deck, or giving themselves up in despair, called on death for relief.
The whole crew were in consternation; and they who had still health
and strength left to manage or clear the ship, went about their usual
duties with the feelings of men who might, at a moment's warning, be
summoned from them to death and eternal doom.

Loeffler had shewn much courage during these fearful scenes ; but
when he beheld sickness and death mysteriously extending their reign
around him, and bearing away the best and the bravest of that gallant

1831.] The Lonely Man of the Ocean. 139

crew, he began to think that the avenging hand of God was upon her ;
and turning his eye towards the broad sheet of ocean waves which rolled
between him and the north-eastern horizon, was heard to murmur,
" Farewell !— farewell !"

One night, after having for some time tended the beds of the sick and
dying, Loeffler retired to his couch, and endeavoured to gain in slumber
a brief forgetfulness of all the thoughts that weighed down his spirit.
But a death-like sickness came over him ; his little cabin seemed to
whirl round as if moving on a pivot, while his restless limbs found no
space for their feverish evolutions in his confined berth. Christian began
to think that his hour was coming, and he tried to raise his soul in
prayer ; but while he essayed to fix his thoughts on Heaven, he felt that
his reason was fast yielding to the burning fever which seemed almost
to be consuming his brain. He called for water, but none heard or
answered his cries. He crawled on deck, and, as the sun had now set
several hours, hoped for a breath of the fresh air of heaven. He threw
himself down, and turned his face towards the dark sky. But the
atmosphere was sultry, heavy, oppressive. It appeared to lie like an
insupportable weight on his chest. He called for the surgeon, but he
called in vain ; the surgeon himself was no more, and his deputy found
a larger demand on his professional exertions than his powers, either
physical or mental, were capable of encountering. A humane hand at
length administered a cup of water. Even the very element was warm
with the heat of the vessel. It produced, however, a temporary sensa-
tion of refreshment, and Loeffler partially slumbered. But who can
describe that strange and pestilential sleep ! A theatre seemed to be
" lighted up within his brain," which teemed with strange, hideous, and
portentous scenes, or figures whose very splendour was appalling. All
the ship seemed lit with varied lamps ; then the lamps vanished, and,
instead of a natural and earthly illumination, it seemed as if the rigging,
yards, and sails of the vessel were all made of living phosphor, or some
strange ignited matter, which far and wide sent a lurid glare on the
waters. Loeffler looked up long masts of bright and living fire, shrouds
whose minutest interlacing were all of the same vivid element, yet
clear, distinct, and unmixed by any excrescent flame which might take
from the regular appearance of the rigging ; while the size of the vessel
seemed increased to the most unnatural dimensions, and her glowing
top-masts — up which Loeffler strained his vision — seemed to pierce the
skies. A preternatural and almost palpable darkness succeeded this
ruddy light; then the long and loud blast of a trumpet, and the
words " Come to judgment, forgetters of your God !" sounded in
Loeffler's ear. He groaned, struggled, tried to thrust his arms vio-
lently from him, and awoke.

He found his neck distended to torture by a hard and frightful swell-
ing, which almost deprived his head of motion, and caused the most
excruciating anguish, while similar indications on his side assured him
that disease was collecting its angry venom. The thought he had often
banished now rushed on Christian's mind ; and a fearful test, by which
he might prove its reality, now suddenly occurred to him. It seemed
as if the delirium of his fever were sobered for a moment by the solemn
trial he was about to make. He was lying near one of the ship-lights.
He dragged himself, though with difficulty, towards it ; he opened the
breast of his shirt. All was decided. Three or four purple spots were

T 2

140 The Lonely Man of the Ocean. [FEB.

clustered at his heart. Loeffler saw himself lost. Again he cast a lan-
guid and fevered glance toward the sullen waters which rolled onward
to the Portuguese shore, and once more murmured, " Farewell ! fare-
well ! we meet not till the morning which wakes us to eternal doom/'
He next earnestly called for the surgeon. With difficulty that half-worn-
out functionary was summoned to the prostrate German. " Know
you/' said Loe'ffler, as soon as he saw him, " know you what fearful foe
now stalks in this doomed vessel ?" He opened his breast, and said
solemnly, " The Plague is amongst us !— warn your captain !" The pro-
fessional man stooped towards his pestilential patient, and whispered
softly, " We know all — have known all from the beginning. Think
you that all this fumigation — this smoking of pipes — this separation, as
far as might be, of the whole from the sick, were remedies to arrest the
spread of mortality from poisoned viands ? But breathe not, for Heaven's
sake, your suspicions among this hapless crew. Fear is, in these cases,
destruction. I have still hopes that the infection may be arrested."* But
the surgeon's words were wasted on air. His patient's senses, roused
only for an instant, had again wandered into the regions of delirious
fancy, and the torture of his swollen members rendered that delirium
almost frantic. The benevolent surgeon administered a nostrum, looked
with compassion on a fellow-being whom he considered doomed to
destruction., and secure (despite his superior's fate) in what he had ever
deemed professional exemption from infection, prepared to descend to
the second-deck. He never reached it. A shivering fit was succeeded
by deathly sickness. All the powers of nature seemed to be totally and
instantaneously broken up ; the poison had reached the vitals, as in a
moment — and the last hope of the fast-sickening crew was no more !
Those on deck rushed in overpowering consternation to the cabin of the
captain. Death had been there, too ! He was extended, not onlv life-
less, but in a state of actual putrescence !

The scenes that followed are of a nature almost too appalling, and even
revolting, for description. Let the reader conceive (if he can without hav-
ing witnessed such a spectacle) the condition of a set of wretched beings,
pent within a scorched prison-house, without commander, without
medical assistance ; daily falling faster and faster, until there were not
whole enough to tend the sick, nor living enough to bury the dead ;
while the malady became every hour more baleful and virulent, from
the increasing heat of the atmosphere, the number of living without
attendance, and dead without a grave.

It was about five days after the portentous deaths of the surgeon and
commander, that Loe'ffler awoke from a deep and lengthened, and, as all
might well have deemed, a last slumber, which had succeeded the wild
delirium of fever. He awoke like one returning to a world which he had
for some time quitted. It was many minutes ere he could recollect his
situation. He found himself still above deck, but "placed on a mattress,
and in a hammock. A portion of a cordial was near him. He drank it
with the avidity, yet the difficulty, of exhaustion, and slightly partook
of a sea-mess, which, from its appearance, might have been laid on his
couch some days previously to the sleeper's awakening. Life and sense
now rapidly revived in the naturally strong constitution of our young

* In foreign climates I have often heard the livid spots about the heart, above described,
cited as the tokens of the plague.

1831.] The Lonely Man of the Ocean. 141

German. But they brought with them the most fearful and appalling
sensations.

The sun was blazing in the midst of heaven, and seemed to be sending
its noontide ardour on an atmosphere loaded with pestilential vapour.
With returned strength, Loeffler called aloud ; but no voice answered
him. He began to listen with breathless attention ; not a sound, either
of feet or voices, met his ear. A thought of horror, that for a moment
half-stilled the pulsation at his heart, rushed on Loeffler's mind. He
lay for a moment to recover himself, and collecting those powers of mind
and body, over which a certain moral firmness of character, already
noticed (joined, be it observed, with the better strength of good prin-
ciples), had given him a master s command — he quitted his couch, and
stood on deck. God of mercy ! what a sight met Loeffler' s eye ! The
whole deck was strewed with lifeless and pestilential corpses, presenting
every variety of hue which could mark the greater or less progress of
the hand of putrefaction, and every conceivable attitude which might
indicate either the state of frantic anguish, or utter and hopeless exhaus-
tion, in which the sufferers had expired. The hand, fast stiffening in its
fixed clasp on the hair ; the set teeth and starting eyeballs shewed where
death had come as the reliever of those insupportable torments which
attend the plague when it bears down its victim by the accumulated
mass of its indurated and baleful ulcerations. Others, who had suc-
cumbed to its milder, more insidious, yet still more fatal (because more
sudden and utterly hopeless) attack, lay in the helpless and composed
attitude which might have passed for sleep ; but the livid and purple
marks of these last corpses, scarce capable of being borne to their grave
in the ' ' integrity of their dimensions," shewed that the hand of corrup-
tion had been even more bus)'' with them than with the fiercer and more
tortured victims of the pestilence. The Invincible, once the proudest
and most gallant vessel which ever rode out a storm, or defied an enemy,
now floated like a vast pest-house on the waters j while the sun of that
burning zone poured its merciless and unbroken beams on the still and
pestiferous atmosphere. Not a sound, not a breeze, awoke the silence
of the sullen and baleful air ; not a single sail broke the desolate uni-
formity of the horizon : sea and sky seemed to meet only to close
in that hemisphere of poisonous exhalations. Christian sic ened ;
he turned round with a feeling of despair, and burying his face in the
couch he had just quitted, sought a moment's refuge from the scene of
horror. That moment was one of prayer ; the next was that of stern
resolution. He forced down his throat a potation, from which his long-
confirmed habits of sobriety would formerly have shrunk with disgust ;
and, under the stimulus of this excitement, compelled himself to the
revolting office of swallowing a food which he felt necessary to carry
him through the task he contemplated. This task was twofold and tre-
mendous. First, he determined to descend to the lower-decks, and see
whether any convalescent, or even expiring, victim yet survived to whom
he could tender his assistance ; and, secondly, if all had fallen, he would
essay the revolting, perhaps the impracticable, office of performing their
watery sepulture.

Loeffler made several attempts to descend into those close and cor-
rupted regions ere he could summon strength of heart or nerve to enter
them. A profound stillness reigned there. He passed through long
rows of hammocks, either the receptacle of decaying humanity, or — as

142 The Lonely Man of the Ocean. [FEB.

was more often the case — dispossessed of their former occupiers, who
had chosen rather to breathe their last above deck. But a veil shall be
drawn over this fearful scene. It is enough to say that not one living
being was found amid the corrupted wrecks of mortality which tenanted
the silent, heated, and pestiferous wards of the inner decks. Loeffler
was ALONE in the ship ! His task was then decided. He could only
consign his former companions to their wide and common grave. He
essayed to lift a corpse ; but — sick, gasping, and completely overcome —
sank upon his very burden ! It was evident he must wait until his
strength were further restored ; but to wait amid those heaps of decaying
bodies seemed impossible.

Night sank upon the waters. The GERMAN began to stir in the soul
of Loeffler. He was alone — the stillness so unbroken as to be startling.
Perhaps within a thousand miles there might be no living human being.
He felt himself a solitary, vital thing among heaps of dead, whose corpses,
here and there, emitted the phosphoric light of putrescence. He started
at every creak of the vessel, and sometimes fancied that he descried,
through the darkness, the well-known and reanimate face of some
departed shipmate. But Christian's was not a mind to succumb to a
terror which, it must be confessed, might — under similar circumstances
— have overborne the stoutest heart. He felt that, under all these dis-
advantages, his strength was returning in a manner that appeared almost
miraculous ; and that same night saw many an appalling wreck of huma-
nity consigned to decent oblivion. Sometimes the heart of Loeffler half
sunk within him ; sometimes he was more than tempted to relinquish his
work in despair ; yet on he toiled with that energy of body which as
much results from mental power as from physical superiority.

On the evening of the following day, but one human form tenanted
that deserted ship. As he saw the last of her gallant crew sink beneath
the waves, Christian fell on his knees, and — well acquainted with the
mother tongue of his departed companions — he took the sacred ritual
of their church in his hand. The sun was setting, and by its parting
beams Loeffler, with steady and solemn voice — as if there were those
might hear the imposing service — read aloud the burial-rites of the
church of England. Scarcely had he pronounced the concluding bless-
ing ere the sun sank, and the instantaneous darkness of a tropical night
succeeded. Loeffler cast a farewell glance on the dun waves, and then
sighed, (c Rest — rest, brave companions ! until a voice shall sound
stronger than your deep slumber — until the sea give up its dead, and you
rise to meet your Judge !" The noise of the sharks dashing from the
waters, to see if yet more victims awaited their insatiable jaw, was the
only response to the obsequies of that gallant crew, which had now dis-
appeared for ever.

A few sails were still furled, and, uncertain whether they were the
best or the worst that might be noisted, Loeffler determined to leave
them, preferring the chance that should waft him to any port, to the
prolonged imprisonment of the Invincible.

Christian sank down, as he concluded his strange and dismal office,
completely overwhelmed by physical exertions and the intensity of his
hitherto-stifled feelings. But there was no hand to wipe the dew from
his pale forehead ; no voice to speak a word of encouragement or symi
pathy.

And where was it all to end ? ^oeffler was no seaman ; and, there-

1831 .] The Lonely Man of the Ocean. 143

fore, even if one hand could have steered the noble vessel, his was not
that hand. Doubtless, the plague had broken out in Portugal ; and
consequently the Invincible, who had so recently sailed from her capital,
would (as in all similar cases) be avoided by her sisters of the ocean.

These thoughts suggested themselves to Christian's mind, as, gra-
dually recovering from the senselessness of exhaustion, he lay stretched
on deck, listening to the scarcely perceptible noise of the water as it
faintly rolled against the side of the vessel, and as softly receded ; while
his soul, as it recalled the form of his best-beloved on earth, rose in
prayer for her and for himself.

Week after week passed away, and still the Solitary Man of the Sea
was the lone occupant of the crewless and now partially dismantled
Invincible. She had been the sport of many a varying wind, at whose
caprice she had performed more than one short and useless voyage round
the fatal spot where she had been so long becalmed ; but still, as if that
were the magical, and even malevolent centre of her movements, she
seldom made much way beyond it; and light, deceitful breezes were
constantly followed by renewed calms. A tropical equinox was, how-
ever, drawing near, though the lone seaman was not aware of its
approach. The time which he had passed in the anguish of disease, and
the aberrations of delirium, had appeared to him of much greater length
than its actual duration ; and as no tongue survived to correct his error,
he had lost all calculations of the motions of time. He listened, there-
fore, with an ear half-fearful, half-hopeful, to the risings of the blast.
At first it began to whistle shrilly through the shrouds and rigging ;
the whistle deepened into a thundering roar, and the idle rocking of the
ship was changed into the boisterous motion of a storm-beaten vessel.
Loe'ffler, however, threw himself as usual on deck for his night's repose ;
and, wrapped in his sea-cloak, was rocked to slumber even by the
stormy lullaby of the elements.

Towards midnight the voice of the tempest began to deepen to a tone
of ominous and apparently-concentrating force, which might have startled
the most reckless slumberer. Sheets of lightning — playing from one
extremity of the sky to the other — shewed the dense masses of rent and
scattered clouds which blackened the face of heaven ; while the peal of
thunder that followed seemed to pour its full tide of fury immediately
over the fated ship. The blast, when contrasted with the still atmos-
phere and oppressive heat which had preceded it, appeared to Loe'ffler
piercing, and even wintry cold ; while the fierce and unintermittant
motion of the vessel rendered it almost difficult for him to preserve a
footing on deck. By every fresh flash of lightning, he could see wide-
spread and increasing sheets of surge running towards the ship'with a
fury that half suggested the idea of malevolent volition on their part ;
while they dashed against the sides with a violence which seemed to drive
in her timbers, and swamped the deck with foam and billows. Whether
any of these storm-tossed waves made their way below — or whether the
ship, so long deprived of nautical examination, had sprung a leak in the
first encounter of the tempest — Loe'ffler could not determine ; but the
conviction that she was filling with water forced itself on his mind. He
again cast his eyes to the north-eastern horizon, and again uttered aloud
— te Farewell ! farewell !"

The loneliness of his situation, to which time, though it had not recon-
ciled, had habituated him, came upon him with the renewed and appalling

144 The Lonely Man of the Ocean. [FEE.

sensations of novelty. National and early-acquired feelings obtained a
temporary triumph over individual strength of character. The torn and
misshapen clouds, as their black forms were from time to time rendered
visible by the blue light that darted through them, appeared to our
young German like careering spirits of the tempest ; and the rent sail?,
as they flapped backward and forwards, or were driven like shattered
pennons of the blast, seemed, as the momentary light cast their dark
shadows athwart the deck, to be foul fiends of the ocean, engaged in the
malign work of dismantling that gallant vessel. To Loeffler's temporarily
excited imagination, even the tossing billows seemed, in that portentous
light, to (t surge up" by hundreds the faces of those who had found
beneath them a dismal and untimely grave ; and the lost mariners
appeared to be crowding round the vessel they had so recently manned.
But Christian authoritatively bade away these phantoms, and they
speedily left a mind too strong to give them a long entertainment.

The storm subsided, and the moon, rising over dense masses of
cloud — which, dispersed from the mid-heaven, now cumbered the
horizon — saw our young German lying, in the sleep of confidence and
exhaustion, on the still humid deck. He slumbered on, unconscious
that the main-deck was now almost level with the waves — unconscious
of the dark gulf preparing to receive him ! The very steadiness which
the waters, accumulating within her, had given to the ship, protracted
the fatal repose of the sleeper. He woke not until his senses were
restored, too late, by the gushing of the waters over the deck.

Down, down, a thousand fathom deep, goes the gallant and ill-fated
vessel ; and with her — drawn into her dark vortex — sinks her lone and
unpitied inhabitant !

It was in less than a month after this event that Loeffler awoke in a spa-
cious and beautiful apartment, the windows of which opened into a
garden of orange and lime-trees, whose sweet scent filled the air, and
whose bright verdure and golden fruit shewed gay and cheerful in the
sunshine. Christian believed that his awakening was in paradise ; nor
was the thought less easily harboured that the object he best loved in life
stood by his couch, while his head rested on her arm. " And thou too/'
he said, confusedly — " thou, too, hast reached the fair land of peace, the
golden garden of God !" — " His senses are returning — he speaks — he
knows me !" exclaimed Ernestine, clasping her hands in gratitude to
Heaven.

She had just received her husband from the hands of the stout captain
of a Dutch galliot, whose crew had discovered and rescued the floating
and senseless body of Christian on the very morning succeeding the
catastrophe we have described. The humble galliot had a speedier and
safer passage than the noble man of war ; and, in an unusually short
time, she made the harbour of Lisbon, to which port she was bound. It
is needless to add that the German recovered both his health and intel-
lects, and lived to increase the tender devotion of his bride, by a recital
of the dangers and horrors of his Solitary Voyage.

T. C. A.

1831.] [ 145 ]

BYRON^S MEMOIRS.*

OP course, no one will suppose that we are now going to anatomize
Byron in either his character or his verses. The topics are already
antediluvian, and are worthy only of the conversaziones of a country
town of the tenth magnitude. The discussions on his uneasy wedlock
and mysterious separation are equally obsolete ; and we shall leave the
universe of old women to settle the never-dying gossip of — whether the
Lord or the Lady was more to blame — whether the Lord did not behave
like a roue, and the Lady like a fashionable spouse? We have now
nothing to look to but the reliques of his tours, the gatherings of his
journals, and those letters on all rambling subjects which, in all his
contempt for England, he seems to have spent his best hours in writing,
and to correspondents whom, in nine cases out of ten, he was in the
habit of turning to ridicule on all occasions.

The world can be mistaken in no man's character ; and it has been
so saturated and superfluxed with illustrations and documents of every
transaction of Lord Byron's life, that there is not a scribbler or dilettante
within the bills of mortality, who could not furnish a regular memoir of
the poet and peer at an hour's notice. But the whole result of the matter
is this — that his lordship was a spoiled boy, who grew up into a spoiled
man ; gifted naturally with great poetic powers, but either ignorant or
wilfully contemptuous of the higher principles that regulate life, and
either tasteless enough to discover no beauty in the decencies of human
morals, or blind enough to imagine that himself and the set about him
were to be the guides of society. But those things are past and gone.
He is now where he can do no harm ; and as we suppose that the idea
of defending his vices enters into no man's head, we proceed, without
further controversy, to the selection, or rather accumulation, of letters
which Mr. Moore has gathered for the amusement of the public.

The volume commences without preface or remark accounting for its
separation from its elder brother, but plunges headlong into the corres-
pondence and journalizing in which Byron evidently delighted. After
he had thrown off the chains of matrimony, his lordship's first resource
was a journey through Switzerland. There he revelled in torrents,
glaciers, jungfraus, and the civilities of that queen of talkers and plague
of readers — Madame de Stael.

Byron, with all his contempt of all vulgar things and people, loved
his own indulgences ; and he commenced his journey with preparations
that by no means argued excessive misery of mind. " He travelled,"
as Pryse Gordon's amusing narrative tells us, " in a huge coach, copied
from the celebrated one of Napoleon, taken at Genappe, and with
additions. Besides a lit de repos, it contained a library, a plate-chest,
and every apparatus for dining in it. It was not, however, found suffi-
ciently capacious for his luggage and suite ; and he purchased a caleche
at Brussels for his servants." His first letter is from Lausanne, in June,
1816 :—

" My route through Flanders, and by the Rhine, to Switzerland, was all
that I expected, and more.

" I have traversed all Rousseau's ground, with the ' Heloise' before me,
and am struck to a degree that I cannot express, with the force and accu-

* Letters and Journals of Lord Byron, with Notices of his Life, by Thomas Moore,
Vol. ii.

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 62. U

146 Byron's Memoirs. QFEE.

racy of his descriptions, and the beauty of their reality. Meillerie, Clarens,
and Vevay, with the Chateau de Chillon, are places of which I shall say little,
because all that I could say must fall short of the impressions that they
stamp.

" Three days ago we were most nearly wrecked, in a squall off Meillerie,
and driven to shore. I ran no risk, being so near the rocks, and a good
swimmer ; but our party were wet, and incommoded a good deal."

The letter concludes with a hint on his authorship : —

" I have finished a third canto of ' Childe Harold/ 117 stanzas longer than
cither of the two former, and in some parts it may be better. But, of course,
on that I cannot determine."

But his journals are much more amusing than his letters ; and of
journalizing he appears to have been fond. It evidently served to pro-
duce a set of common-place-books for his poetry : —

" Yesterday, Sept. 17, I set out with Mr. Hobhouse on an excursion of
some days to the mountains. Rose at five. Weather fine. Lakij calm and
clear. Mont Blanc, and the Aiguille d'Argentieres, both very distinct.
Reached Lausanne before sunset."

He then gives some account of the old English republican monu-
ments : —

" Stopped at Vevay two hours. View from the church-yard superb ; within
it General Ludlow (the regicide's) monument ; black marble ; long inscrip-
tion ; he was an exile two-and-thirty years ; one of King Charles's judges.
Near him, Broughton, who read King Charles's sentence, is buried, with a
queer, but rather canting inscription. Ludlow's house is still shewn : it
retains still its inscription — e Omne solum forti patria.'

" On our return, met an English party in a carriage — a lady in it fast
asleep — fast asleep in the most anti-narcotic spot in the world ! — Excellent !
I remember, at Chamouni, in the very eyes of Mont Blanc, hearing another
woman, English also, exclaim to her party, ' Did you ever see any thing
more rural?' — As if it was Highgate or Hampstead, or Brompton or Hayes !
Rural, quotha! Rocks, pines, torrents, glaciers, clouds, and summits of
eternal snow far above them — and rural !"

He continued his roamings through the finest part of the Swiss
scenery, laying up images for new cantos of " Childe Harold :" —

" The music of the cows'-bells — for their wealth is cattle — in the pastures,
which reach to a height far above any mountain in Britain, and the shepherds
shouting to us from crag to crag, and playing on their reeds where the steeps
appeared almost inaccessible, with the surrounding scenery, realized all that
I have ever heard or imagined of a pastoral existence, much more so than Greece
or Asia-Minor ; for there we are a little too much of the sabre and musket
order, and if there is a crook in one hand, you are sure to see a gun in the
other. But this was pure and unmixed — solitary, savage, and patriarchal."

Within a day or two after this mountain ramble, he became intimate
with Shelley and his wife, and " & female relative" of Mrs. Shelley.
Here his lordship found the kind of associates that suited all his tastes ;
but the rest of this lucky intercourse we leave to the gossips, who love
scandal better than we do. Yet, whatever were the other results of this
association, Shelley was made madder than ever by it ; and he disputed,
scribbled, talked nonsense, and boated with increased vigour for the
rest of his worthless life. Mr. Moore hopelessly attempts to gloss over
the wretched career of this man. With the biographer, all Shelley's

1831.] Byron's Memoirs. 147

crimes were the result of the " persecution he met with on the thresh-
hold of his boyish enterprise to teach and reform the world." — For
which purpose of reform, " he with a courage, admirable if it had been
wisely directed, made war upon authority and experience." Such is
the softened tone of the fashionable circles. But the truth is perfectly
well known, and it is — that Shelley was any thing but an abstract
philosopher ; that he was as practical a person, in the matter of his own
pleasures, and in his scorn of the obligations of society, as any gen-
tleman who never wrote verses, nor talked sentimental foolery on lakes
and glaciers. In short, he was a Lord Byron rase — his lordship, in all
his loves and libels, but on a lower scale. Shelley's true history ought
to be written for the benefit of all young gentlemen who profess genius,
and think that the habit of writing verses is to be a full and fair quit-
tance of every kind of moral obligation. The history of his first wife —
that unhappy woman whom he abandoned, and whose suicide made so
melancholy an impression on the public ; the nature of his subsequent
life ; his open atheism ; the palpable and atrocious blasphemy of his
writings ; his favourite tenets (which even the biographer is forced to
acknowledge) of the community of property and the community of wives,
are sufficient to stamp his character. The vulgar bravado of writing
in the Album at Mont Blanc, " Bysshe Shelley, Atheist !" shews that a
miserable vanity prompted him to outrage society, and that crime lost
half its charms to him unless he called the world to wonder at him as a
criminal. But he perished. His coxcomb impiety met a sudden fate ;
and, heathen as he lived and died, his noble friend gave him a heathen
burial — burned him — and, as Mr. Gait's narrative tells us, got drunk
over his bones !

But Lord Byron, through his whole career, had an extraordinary
fondness for associates whom every one else would have rejected. Ano-
ther of his intimates was a wretched being, whose fate by his own hand
a few years ago was the natural consequence of his principles. This was
Dr. Polidori, who, after scribbling, gaming, and trying the world in all
kinds of ways, was reduced to extremity in London, and, in the true
philosophic and march-of-intellect style, either cut his throat or poisoned
himself. Mr. Hobhouse must be excepted from the black list of those
travelling friends. He has striven for fame by none of the sublimities
of those personages who are too refined to follow the common decencies
of life. But he seems to have kept aloof from the ' f midnight conver-
sations" and other deeper mysteries of his lordship's enjoyments ; and,
in fact, to have at no time sanctioned the orgies of the set. Yet it is
from him that Lord Byron's personal character has found the most vigi-
lant and manly defence ; and while some of those bosom friends and
compotators have been trying to make money of the unfortunate peer's
vices, and publishing all that could sink him in the public estimation,
he has kept guard over his remains, and by vigorously punishing some
of his assailants, has deterred the general mob whom Lord Byron admit-
ted to his intercourse, from heaping additional disgrace on his memory.

His lordship at last got rid of Shelley and his prosing, and began a
new course of intrigue. Of this disgraceful affair, which was no other
than a regular business of adultery, he makes Mr. Moore the confidant ;
— an insult, at which we must presume the biographer was indignant — •>
though, unfortunately, we can discover nothing of his indignation in
these pages.

U 2

14fl Byron's Memoirs. QFEB.

The letter is a specimen of that comic mixture of melancholy in phrase,
and practical indulgence in matters of pleasure, which so happily con-
trives to make the sentimental reader grieve over the sorrows of a volup-
tuary, revelling at the moment in the grossest excesses : —

" It is ray intention to remain at Venice during- the winter, probably as it
has always been, next to the East, the greenest island of my imagination. It
has not disappointed me, though its evident decay would perhaps have that
effect upon others. But I have been familiar with ruins too long to dislike deso-
lation."

He then drops into the practical portion of the tale : —

<f I have got some extremely good apartments in the house of a ' Merchant
of Venice,' who is a good deal occupied with business, and has a wife in her
twenty-second year. Marianna is, in her appearance, altogether like an ante-
lope. She has the large, black, oriental eye; her features 'are regular, and
rather aquiline ; mouth, small ; skin, clear and soft" — &c.

" Nov. 23. — You will perceive that my description, which was proceeding
with the minuteness of a passport, has been interrupted for several days. In
the mean time * * * "

Then follows a break in the letter, which Mr. Moore has filled up
with stars, and which every one else may fill up as it pleases his fancy.
These breaks are continually occurring, and argue that the general cor-
respondence must have been of a very extraordinary and of a prodigiously
confidential nature.

In one of these letters, he breaks off the subject of the Venetian's
wife, whom he had now taken as his acknowledged mistress, and in her
husband's house too — such are the easy manners of foreign life !• — to
give a little sketch of the world around him : —

" Oh ! by the way, I forgot, when I wrote to you from Verona, to tell you

that at Milan I met with a countrymen of your's, a Colonel , a very excellent,

good-natured fellow — who knows and shews all about Milan, and is, as it
were, a native here. This is his history, at least an episode of it : —

" Six-and-twenty years ago, the Colonel — then an Ensign — being in Italy,
fell in love with the Marchesa * * *, and she with him. The lady must be
at least twenty years his senior. The war broke out ; he returned to England,
to serve, not his country — for that is Ireland — but England, which is a dif-
ferent thing; and she — Heaven knows what she did! In the year 1814, the
first annunciation of the definitive treaty of peace (and tyranny) was developed
to the astonished Milanese, by the arrival of Colonel * * *, who, flinging him-
self at full length at the feet of Madame, murmured forth, in half-forgotten
Irish- Italian, eternal vows of indelible constancy. The lady screamed, and
exclaimed, ' Who are you ?' The Colonel cried, ' Why, don't you know me ?
I am so and so,' &c. ; till at length the Marchesa, mounting from reminis-
cence to reminiscence, through the lovers of the intermediate twenty-five
years, arrived at last at the recollection of her povero sub-lieutenant. She
then said, ' Was there ever such virtue !' (that was the very word) ; and,
being now a widow, gave him apartments in her palace, reinstated him in all
the rights of wrong, and held him up to the admiring world as a miracle of
incontinent fidelity, arid the unshaken Abdiel of absence."

All this is followed by a ballad on King Lud, lively and clever
enough : —

" As the Liberty-lads o'er the sea
Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood,
So we, boys, we
Will die fighting, or live free,
And down with all kings but King Lud.

1831.] Byron's Memoirs. 149

When the web that we weave is complete,
And the shuttle exchanged for the sword,

We will fling the winding-sheet

O'er the despot at our feet,
And dye it deep in the gore he has poured.

Though black as his heart is its hue,
Since his veins are corrupted to mud,

Yet this is the dew

Which the tree shall renew
Of Liberty, planted by Lud."

This he winds up in the degdge style in which it was written : —

" There's an amiable chanson for you — all impromptu ! I have written it
principally to shock your neighbour * * *, who is all clergy and loyalty —
mirth and innocence — milk and water.

" But the Carnival's coming,

Oh, Thomas Moore ;
The Carnival's coming,

Oh, Thomas Moore ;
Masking and humming,
Fifing and drumming,
Guitarring and strumming —

Oh, Thomas Moore."

He frequently made these light verses ; and among the prettiest are
some lines on a statue by Canova : —

" The Helen of Canova (a bust which is in the collection of the Countess
D'Albrizzi) is, without exception, to my mind, the most perfectly beautiful
of human conceptions, and far beyond my ideas of human execution.

" In this beloved marble, view,

Above the works and thoughts of man,
What Nature could, but would not do,

Arid Beauty and Canova can.
Beyond imagination's power,

Beyond the bard's defective art,
With immortality her dower,

Behold the Helen of the heart !"

We then have the Carnival again : —

" I am on the invalid regimen. The Carnival — that is, the latter part of it —
had knocked me up a little. But it is over, and it is now Lent, with all its
abstinence and its sacred music —

" So we'll go no more a roving

So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,

And the moon be still as bright;
For the sword outwears its sheath,

And the soul outwears the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,

And love itself have rest ;
Though the night was made for loving,

And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving

By the light of the moon."

Byron was now in his felicity — rambling, gondoliering, chatting
in opera-boxes, making love (such as it was), and writing poetry. He

150 Byron's Memoirs. C^BB.

had thrown off the black mantle under which he had made his retreat,
en grande costume, from the English newspapers, and was now follow-
ing pleasure in all ways and forms. He had begun his travels with
some of the sentimentality which does such wonders with the boarding-
schools ; and talked in his early letters the conversazione-tongue of —
" I am a lover of nature, and an admirer of beauty. I have seen some
of the noblest views in the world. Yet in all this, the recollection of
bitterness, and more especially of recent and more home desolation,
which must accompany me through life, have preyed upon me here ;
and neither the music of the shepherd, the crashing of the avalanche,"
and so forth, " have one moment lightened the weight upon my heart,
nor enabled me to lose my more wretched identity in the majesty and
the power," &c. &c.

All which was the very strain for a speech in " Manfred," and
was actually transferred there. But the whole story of Byron's
incurable agonies would have been laughed at by Byron himself, first
of the first, though they did very well to mystify the infinite race of
twaddledom that inhabiteth the western parts of London. The whole
might be inscribed with Burchell's expressive word — " Fudge !" What
were the facts ? Here was a man in the vigour of life, with nothing on
earth to restrain him from following his whims from pole to pole, and
following them with all his might ; galloping through the finest regions
of Europe ; living where he liked ; running a round of operas, carni-
vals, and conversaziones ; indulging himself in all that bears the name
of pleasure, good and bad ; living among complying counts and tender
countesses ; and, with all this, enjoying an income of four or five thou-
sand pounds a year — four times as much as three-fourths of his titled
associates possessed, and equivalent to fifteen or twenty thousand
pounds a year in England. All the exclamations that we hear on this
side of the water, about the " weight on his mind," &c. are nonsense ;
and as to his own sorrowings, we may be perfectly consoled, by knowing
that they never went farther than the fingers that held his pen.

In fact, what kind of life would be the very one chosen by a young
rake of fashion and fortune but this ? — and we have no doubt that the
most self-indulgent roue that ever decorated Bond-street, or waltzed at
Almack's, could go through the whole range, without shedding a tear
or heaving a sigh. A journey through Flanders, with all his comforts
ensured, even to a service of plate in his carriage ; a tour through the
Swiss Lakes ; a residence at Venice, in the house of a convenient scoun-
drel of a husband, who had a wife of twenty- two, with " oriental eyes ;"
the establishment of a promiscuous circle of the same species of persons,
with oriental eyes ; a houseful of those indescribable inmates at his beck,
with a general licensed system of expeditions on the same pursuit among
the Signoras of his noble friends ; the whole terminating in the tranquil
arrangement which secured a Countess Guiccioli for his exclusive share ;
— all this, we suspect, would be exactly in the line of happiness which
the most unsentimental pursuer of the grossest objects of passion would
chalk out for his career, and think it quite unnecessary to call the world
to witness his agonies at the cruel necessity of — doing everything that he
liked. The truth is, that Lord Byron ran the full career of his passions,
and must rest on his success in that career for the sympathy of mankind.

He had evidently began to feel that the "sorrowing system" must have
its termination : —

1831.] Byron's Memoirs. 151

" I suppose now/' says he, in a letter to Murray, " I shall never be able to
shake off my sables in the public imagination, particularly since my moral
* * * * clove down my fame. However, not that — nor more than that — has
yet extinguished my spirit, which always rises with the rebound.

" At Venice we are in Lent, and I have not lately moved out of doors, my
feverishness remaining quiet ; and, by way of being more quiet, here is the
Signora Marianna just come in, and seated at my elbow."

In some reference to Jeffrey the reviewer, he bids Murray tell him —

" that he (Byron) was not— and indeed is not even now — the misanthropical
and gloomy gentleman he took him for; but a facetious companion, well to do
with those with whom he is intimate, and as loquacious and laughing as if he
were a much cleverer fellow."

As an illustration of his sorrowful temperament, we find a series of
critiques — brief, we will allow, but pithy — on the works of some of
his acquaintance : —

" I read the ' Christabel' —

Very well.
I read the ' Missionary' —

Pretty, very.
I tried ' Ildezim' —

Ahem !
I read a page of ' Margaret of Anjou'—

Can you ?
I turned a page of 's f Waterloo'-—

Pooh! pooh!
I looked at Wordsworth's < Milk-white Rylstone Doe' —

Hillo !"

His English feelings are thus described : —

" I have not the least idea where I am going, nor what I am going to do.
I wished to have gone to Rome, but at present it is pestilent with English. A
man is a fool who travels now in France or Italy, till this tribe of wretches is
swept home again. I staid at Venice, chiefly because it is not one of their
dens of thieves ; and here they but pause and pass. In Switzerland it was
really noxious. Luckily I was early, and had got the prettiest place on the
lakes before they were quickened into motion with the rest of the reptiles.
Venice is not a place where the English are gregarious : their pigeon-houses
are Florence, Naples, Rome, &c., &c., and to tell you the truth, this was one
reason why I staid here until the season of the purgation of Rome from those
people, which is infected with them at this time, should arrive. Besides I
abhor the nation, and the nation me. It is impossible for me to describe my
own sensation on this point, but it may suffice to say, that if I meet with any
of the race in the beautiful parts of Switzerland, the most distant glimpse, or
aspect, of them poisoned the whole scene."

An anecdote follows, worth a whole quarto of sentimentality : —

" An Austrian officer, the other day, being in love with a Venetian, was
ordered with his regiment into Hungary. Distracted between love and duty,
he purchased a deadly drug, which, dividing with his mistress, both swal-
lowed. The ensuing pains were terrific ; but the pills were purgative, and
not poisonous, by the contrivance of the apothecary : so that so much suicide
was all thrown away. You may conceive the previous confusion, arid the final
laughter : but the intention was good on all sides."

Some of the best letters are to Murray, whom he treats alternately as
a correspondent and a bookseller: —

152 Byron's Memoirs. [FEB.

" Strahan, Tonson, Lintot of the times !
Patron and publisher of rhymes !
For thee the bard up Piridus climbs —
My Murray !

To thee, with hope and terror dumb,
The unfledged MS. authors come ;
Thou printest all, and sellest some —

My Murray !

Upon thy table's baize so green,
The last new f Quarterly' is seen ;
But where is thy new Magazine ? —

My Murray !

Along thy sprucest book-shelves shine
The works thou deemest most divine,
' The Art of Cookery and Wine'—

My Murray !

Tours, Travels, Essays too, I wist,
And Sermons to thy mill bring grist ;
And then thou hast the ' Navy List' —
My Murray !

And Heaven forbid I should conclude
Without the ( Board of Longitude !'
Although this narrow paper would —

My Murray !"

Mr. Moore then inserts a bitter letter upon the author of " Rimini,"
which he says he had originally suppressed —

f{ but the tone of that gentleman's books having, as far as himself is con-
cerned, released me from all the scruples which prompted the suppression, I
have considered myself at liberty to restore the passage."

Byron then proceeds : —

ee Hunt's letter is probably the exact piece of vulgar coxcombry you might
expect from his situation. He believes his trash of vulgar phrases tortured
into compound barbarisms to be old English. And we may say of it as Aim-
well says of Captain Gibbett's regiment, when the captain calls it an ' old
corps.' ' The oldest in Europe, if I may judge by your uniform.' He sent
out his ' Foliage' by Percy Shelley, and of all the ineffable Centaurs that were
ever begotten by Self-love upon a night-mare, I think this monstrous Sagittary

the most prodigious. Did you read his skimble-skamble about being

at the head of his own profession, in the eyes of those who followed it ? I
thought that poetry was an art, or an attribute, and not a profession — but be

it one, is that at the head of your profession in your eyes. I'll be

curst if he is of mine, or ever shall be. But Leigh Hunt is a good man and a
good father, — see his Odes to all the Masters Hunt ; a good husband, — see his
sonnet to Mrs. Hunt ; a good friend, see his epistles to different people ; and
a great coxcomb, and a very vulgar person in every thing about him. But
that's not his fault, but of circumstances."

Some hints follow on the " Life of Sheridan," on which Mr. Moore
was then engaged, and which he might have advantageously adopted —

" I do not know any good model for a life of Sheridan, but that of Savage.
The whigs abuse him ; however, he never left them ; and such blunderers
deserve neither credit nor compassion. As to his creditors, remember Sheridan
never had a shilling, and was thrown, with great powers and passions, into the

1831.] Byron's Memoirs. 153

thick of the world, ami placed upon the pinnacle of success, with no external

means to support him in his elevation. Did Fox pay his debts? or

did Sheridan take a subscription ? Was the Duke of Norfolk's drunkenness
more excusable than his ? Were his intrigues more notorious than those of
all his contemporaries ? And is his memory to be blasted, and theirs re-
spected? Don't let yourself be led away by clamour, but compare him with
the coalitioner Fox and the pensioner Burke, as a man of principle, and with
ten hundred thousand others in personal views, and with none in talent, for he
beat them all out and out. Without means, without connection, without
character, (which might be false at first, and afterwards make him mad from
desperation,) he beat them all, in all he ever attempted. But alas, poor human
nature !"

The biographer proceeds to give a glimpse of the kind of life which
his lordship led at this period in Venice. He had dismissed the linen-
draper's wife — for such was the rank of the " Merchant of Venice" —
and now ranged the realm on a larger scale. — " Highly censurable, in
point of morality and decorum, as was his course of life while under the

roof of Madame , it was (with pain I am forced to confess)

venial in comparison with the strange, headlong career of licence, to
which, when weaned from that connection, he so unrestrainedly, and, it
may be added, defyingly abandoned himself."

For this license, the same excuse is found which served to palliate all
his former exhibitions. — (e He had found no cessation of the slanderous
warfare; against his character ; the same busy and misrepresenting spirit
which had tracked his every step at home, having, with no less malicious
watchfulness, dogged him into exile." And, therefore, and for this
reason, of a wounded spirit, his lordship (" assuming the desperation
of an outlaw, with the condition, as it seemed to him), resolved, as
his countrymen would not do justice to the better parts of his nature, to
have at least the perverse satisfaction of braving and shocking them
with the worst."

Now, against this language we altogether protest, as lending an easy
excuse to the most profound profligacy, in whatever rank it may occur.
The libertine who sinks into the most debasing vileiiesses, has nothing
more to say than that he was driven to them by the world's bad opinion
of him, or by his own superior delicacy of feeling, and starts forth a hero ;
he unites all the gratifications of the libertine with all the honours of the
anchorite, makes his reputation by the loss of character, and is the more
virtuous the more he replenishes his seraglio. We greatly fear, for the
prudery of gentlemen of a certain age, that a Venetian life will not be
always received by the world as an evidence of immaculate virtue j nor
that the thick understandings of the British empire will allow any man
to have at once all the advantages, such as they may be deemed, of a life
of unbridled licence, with all the feelings due to the sufferer under an
injured sensibility. In common English, if a man gets drunk, he does
it for love of wine ; if he games, it is for love of the die ; if he follows
other excesses, it is for love of the vice in question. And of Lord Byron
and his Marianna, and his half hundred Mariannas, the world will come
to the same conclusion. It can comprehend nothing of this Mulatto
mixture of good and evil — this vicious virtue, and sublime debasement —
this plunging into the most vulgar profligacy, for the sake of indulging
a too exquisite sense of refinement — and this utter and impudent defiance
of public decency, from a superabundant value for public opinion.

The story of Margarita Cogni, one of the tribe whom Lord Byron
M.M. Nent Series.— VOL. XI. No. 62. X

154 Byron's Memoirs. [FEB.

collected in his house, is curious as a specimen of national manners. In
a letter to somebody or other, who had seen this handsome virago's por-
trait, and who asked some account of her, he gives the following
sketch : —

" Since you desire the story of Margarita Cogni, you shall be told it,
though it may be lengthy.

" Her face is of the fine Venetian cast of the old time ; her figure, though
perhaps too tall, is not less fine, — taken altogether in the national dress.

" In the summer of 1817, and myself were sauntering on horseback

along the Brenta one evening, when, among a group of peasants, we remarked
two girls as the prettiest we had seen for some time. About this period, there
had been great distress in the country, and I had a little relieved some of the
people. Generosity makes a great figure at very little cost in Venetian livres,
and mine had probably been exaggerated, as an Englishman's. Whether they
remarked us looking at them or not, I know not ; but one of them called out
to me in Venetian, ' Why don't you, who think of others, think of us also?'
I turned round and said, ' Caza tu sei troppo bellae giovane per aver bisogna
del' soccorso mio.'* She answered, ' If you saw my hut and my food, you
would not say so.' All this passed half jestingly, and I saw no more of "her
for some days.

"A few evenings after, we met with those two girls again, and they ad-
dressed us more seriously, assuring us of the truth of their statement. They
were cousins. Margarita was married, the other single. As I doubted still
of the circumstances, I took the business in a different light. *****

" For a long space of time, she was the only one who preserved over me an
ascendancy, which was often disputed, and never impaired.

" The reasons of this were firstly, her person — very dark, tall ; the Ve-
netian face, very fine, black eyes She was two and twenty years old.
******. She was, besides, a thorough Venetian in her dialect, in her
thoughts, in her countenance, in every thing, with all their naivete and panta-
loon humour. Besides, she could neither read nor write, and could not plague
me with letters ; except twice that she paid sixpence to a public scribe under
the piazza, to make a letter for her, on some occasion when I was ill, and
could not see her. In other respects she was somewhat fierce and ' prepotente/
that is, overbearing, and used to walk in whenever it suited her, with no very
great regard to time, place, or person ; and if she found any women in her
way, she knocked them down.

" When I came to Venice for the winter, she followed. But she had inordi-
nate self-love, and was not tolerant of other women. At the ' Cavalchina,'
the masqued ball on the last night of the Carnival, to which all the world
goes, she snatched off the mask of Madame Contarini, a lady noble by birth
and decent in conduct, for no other reason, but because she happened to be
leaning on my arm. You may suppose what a cursed noise this made; but
this is only one of her pranks.

" At last she quarrelled with her husband, and one evening ran away to my
house. I told her this would not do : she said she would lie in the street, but
not go back to him ; that he heather (the gentle tigress), spent her money,
and scandalously neglected her. As it was midnight, I let her stay ; and next
day, there was no moving her at all. Her husband came roaring and crying,
and entreating her to come back: not she. He then applied to the police, and
they applied to me. I told them and her husband to take her — I did not want
her. She had come, and I could not fling her out of the window ; but they
might conduct her through that, or the door, if they chose it. She went before
the commissary, but was obliged to return with her * becco ettico/ as she
called the poor man, who had a phthisic. In a few days, she ran away again.
After a precious piece of work, she fixed herself in my house, really and truly
without my consent; but owing to my indolence, and not being able to keep

* " My dear, you are too pretty and young to want any help of mine."

1831.J Byron's Memoir a. 155

my countenance, — for if I began in a rage, she always finished by making me
laugh with some Venetian pantaloonery or other, — and the gipsy knew this
well enough, as well as her other powers of persuasion, and exerted them
with the usual tact and success of all she-things — high and low ; they are all
alike for that.

" Madame Benzoni also took her under her protection, and then her head
turned. She was always in extremes, either crying or laughing, and so fierce
when angered, that she was the terror of men, women, and children — for she
had the strength of an Amazon, with the temper of Medea. She was a fine
animal, but quite untameable. I was the only person that could at all keep
her m any order; and when she saw me really angry (which they tell me is a
savage sight,) she subsided. But she had a thousand fooleries. In her faz-
ziolo, the dress of the lower orders, she looked beautiful; but alas, she longed
for a hat and feathers ; and all I could say or do, (and I said much,) could not
prevent this travestie. I put the first in the fire ; but I got tired of burning
them before she did of buying them, so that she made herself a figure, for they
did not at all become her.

" In the mean time, she beat the women, and stopped my letters. I found
her one day pondering over one. She used to try to find out by their shape,
whether they were feminine or no; and she used to lament her ignorance, and
actually studied her alphabet, on purpose, as she declared, to open all letters
addressed to me, and read their contents.

" That she had a sufficient regard for me in her wild way, I had many
reasons to believe. I will mention one : — In the autumn one day, going to
the Lido with my gondoliers, we were overtaken by a heavy squall, and the
gondola put in peril— hats blown away, boat filling, oar lost, tumbling sea,
thunder, rain in torrents, night coming, and wind unceasing. On our return,
after a tight struggle, I found her on the open steps of the Mocenigo palace,
on the Grand Canal, with her great black eyes flashing through her tears,
and her long, dark hair streaming, drenched with rain, over her brows and
breast. She was perfectly exposed to the storm ; and the wind blowing her
hair and dress about her thin tall figure, and the lightning flashing round her,
and the waves rolling at her feet, made her look like Medea, alighted from her
chariot ; or the sybil of the tempest that was rolling around her, the only
living thing within hail at that moment, except ourselves. On seeing me safe,
she did not wait to greet me, as might have been expected, but calling to me,
'Ah! can' della Madonna cosa vus tu ? Esto non e tempo per andar' al
Lido/ (Ah ! dog of the Virgin ! what are you about, this is no time to go to
Lido?) ran into her house, and solaced herself with scolding the boatmen for
not foreseeing the ' temporale.'

" I was told by the servants, that she had only been prevented from coming
in a boat to look after me, by the refusal of all the gondoliers of the canal to
put out into the harbour in such a moment ; that then she sat down on the
steps in all the thickest of the squall, and would neither be removed nor com-
forted. Pier joy at seeing me again was moderately mixed with ferocity, and
gave me the idea of a tigress over her recovered cubs.

" But her reign drew near a close. She became quite ungovernable some
months after ; and a concurrence of complaints, some true and many false
— ' a favourite has no friends' — determined me to part with her. I told her
quietly she must return home. She had acquired a sufficient provision for
herself and her mother in my service. She refused to quit the house. I was
firm ; and she went, threatening knives and revenge. I told her that I had
seen knives drawn before her time, and that if she chose to begin, there was
a knife, and fork also, at her service on the table : and that intimidation
would not do. The next day. while I was at dinner, she walked in (having
broken open a glass door that led from the hall to the staircase, by way of
prologue), and advancing straight up to the table, snatched the knife from my
hand, cutting me slightly in the thumb in the operation. Whether she meant
to use this against herself or me, I know not ; probably against neither ; but
Fletcher seized her by the arms, and disarmed her. I then called my boat-

X 2

156 Byron's Memoirs. [[FEB.

men, and bid them get the gondola ready, and conduct her to her own house
again, seeing carefully that she did herself no mischief by the way. She
seemed quite quiet, and walked down stairs. I resumed my dinner.

" We heard a great noise, and went out, and met them on the staircase car-
rying her up stairs. She had thrown herself into the canal. That she intended
to destroy herself I do not believe; but when we consider the fear women
and men, who cannot swim, have of deep or even of shallow water (and the
Venetians in particular, though they live on the waves), and that it was also
night, and dart and very cold, it shows that she had a devilish spirit of some
sort within her. They had got her out without much difficulty or damage,
except the salt water she had drank, and the wetting she had undergone.

" I foresaw her intention to refix herself, and sent for a surgeon ; inquiring
how many hours it would require to restore her from her agitation, he named
the time. I then said, ' I give you that time, arid more if you require it ; but
at the expiration of this prescribed period, if she does not leave the house /
will.'

" All my people were consternated. They had always been frightened at
her, and now were paralysed. They wanted me to apply to the police, to
guard myself, &c. &c. like a pack of snivelling, servile boobies as they were.
I did nothing of the kind, thinking that I might end that way as well as ano-
ther; besides J had been used to deal with savage women, and knew their
ways.

" I had her sent home quietly after her recovery ; and never saw her since,
except twice at the Opera, at a distance among the audience. She made
many attempts to return, but no more violent ones. And this is the story of
Margarita Cogni, as relates to me.

" I forgot to mention that she was very devout, and would cross herself, if
she heard the prayer-time strike. * * * *

" She was quick in reply, as for no instance ; one day, when she had made
me very angry with beating somebody or other, I called her a cow. (Cow in
Italian, is a sad affront). She turned round, curtseyed, and answered, ' Vacca
tua, excellenza.' (Your cow, please your excellency.) In short, she was, as
I said before, a very fine animal, of considerable beauty and energy, with
many good and several amusing qualities, but wild as a witch, and fierce as
a demon."

This style of life, cheap as such living may be in the land of blue
skies and Margaritas, appears to have involved his lordship in pecuniary
difficulties, and he duns with great vigour. He writes to Murray : —

" I must trouble you to pay into my banker's immediately whatever sum, or
sums, you can make it convenient to do on our agreement, otherwise I shall
be put to the severest and most immediate inconvenience ; and this at a time
when, by every rational prospect, I ought to be in the receipt of considerable
sums. Pray do not neglect this. You have no idea to what inconvenience
you will otherwise put me."

Another of his embarrassments was his quarrel with Southey, whom
he seems to have determined to exterminate, not only by the pen, but
by the pistol. Douglas Kinnaird was to be his second —

" I have written to request Mr. Kinnaird, when the foam of his politics is

wiped away, to extract a positive answer from that , and not to keep

me in a state of suspense upon the subject. I hope that Kinnaird, who has
my power of attorney, keeps a look-out upon the gentleman, which is the
more necessary, as 1 have a great dislike to the idea of coming over to look
after him myself."

tn this passage the name is not mentioned, we allow ; but the same
request had been made before, openly relating to the doctor, and with
Kinnaird appointed for the second, as " knowing in matters of the
duello." Poor Kinnaird's own fate was a melancholy illustration of that

1831.] Byron's Memoirs. 157

knowledge. Yet it was rather an awkward circumstance that this man-
slaying determination should have been thus blazoned to Murray, whose
intercourse with the doctor was notoriously so constant, and who would,
we must suppose, be not disinclined to prevent the collision of his prin-
cipal poet and his principal reviewer. However, the menace came to
nothing ; and Missolonghi, not Hyde Park, was to be the scene of his
lordship's castrametation. We here mean no impeachment of his cou-
rage ; for, so far as pistoling goes, he would have probably stoDd to be
shot at, with as much sang froid as the multitude of militia ensigns, St.
James's blacklegs, and Cheapside heroes, who love to flourish in the
" tented field" of Chalk-farm. His lordship's brains were of another
calibre; but he was, as his biographer observed, strangely fond of
talking and threatening in those matters ; and even his eternal pistol-
practice had something in it which a man of nice honour could not have
easily reconciled to his feelings. The regular pistol-practiser — the
" can die- snuffer at a dozen paces/' &c. &c. — is merely a gentleman who
does his best to make that shot sure, which, by the laws of honour,
should be uncertain ; and to take advantage of the unskilfulness of
others, in a contest where the laws of honour require the most perfect
equality. The man who has practised till he can hit the ace of spades,
and who yet calls out, to stand his shot, an antagonist who may never
have fired a pistol in his life, is not a duellist, but an assassin.
His lordship had another trouble, too: —

" I have here my natural daughter, by name Allegra — a pretty little girl
enough, and reckoned like papa. Her mamma is English ; but it is a long
story — and there's an end."

This unfortunate infant had been sent to him by the mamma — a
female philosopher of the " community-of-property" school — who had
too much superiority to the age to restrain herself from being his lord-
ship's mistress for the time, or to keep the miserable infant which was
the fruit of their vices. This child died when about five years old.

From time to time, his letters give us sketches of the figures wrhich
he subsequently embodied into his poems : —

" I wish you good night, with a Venetian benediction. Benedetto te, e la
tierra che tifara. (May you be blessed, and the earth which you will make !)
Is it not pretty ? You would think it still prettier, if you had heard it, as I
did two hours ago, from the lips of a Venetian girl, with large, black eyes, a
face like Faustina's, and the figure of a Juno — tall and energetic as a Pytho-
ness, with eyes flashing, and her dark hair streaming in the moonlight, — one
of those women who may be made any thing. I am sure, if I put a poignard
into the hand of this one, she would plunge it where I told her ; — and into
me, if I offended her. I like this kind of animal, and am sure that I should
have preferred Medea to any woman that ever breathed. * * * * I could
have forgiven the dagger, the bowl, any thing; but the deliberate desolation
piled upon me, when I stood alone upon my hearth, with my household gods
shivered around me."

This image he afterwards transferred to one of his tragedies : —

" I had one only fount of quiet left,

And that they poisoned. My pure household gods

Were shivered on my hearth." Marino Faliero.

It is not very easy to comprehend the sort of admiration that can be
felt for a woman ready to dip her hands in blood — a quality which we

158 Byron' a Memoirs. QFKB.

should conceive must tarnish, or rather extinguish, all human attrac-
tions in disgust and horror. Nor can we altogether agree in his lord-
ship's rapture about Medea, who, to the murder of her brother, added
that of her children. But he seems always to have made the idle mistake
that the more hideous the crime, the more the energy and loftiness of
character required for its commission. The fact is almost the direct
contrary — the basest and most grovelling committing these horrors, in
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. There are more cut-throats and
poisoners in the hovels of an Italian city at this hour, than could be
mustered among all the recorded heroes and heroines of the ancient or
modern world. A Roman fish-woman, disputing with her comrade
about sixpence- worth of sprats, has all this energy ; for she, without
ceremony, draws her knife, and plunges it into the bowels of the rival
dealer. A Lombard bravo, who stabs for half-a-crown, has the same
exact degree of energy ; he drives his stiletto to the hilt, and then
magnanimously cuts with it the loaf which he has purchased by his
labours. But the whole sentiment is monstrous, and founded on a
total misconception of the " great in human nature."

We have now some observations of Mr. Moore's, touching the Guic-
cioli affair : —

" It was about this time (1819), when, as we perceive, like the first return
of reason after intoxication, a full consciousness of some of the evils of his
late libertine course of life, had broken in upon him, that an attachment dif-
fering altogether, both in duration and devotion, from any of those that since
the dream of his boyhood, had inspired him, gained an influence over his
mind, which lasted through his few remaining .years ; and undeniably wrong
and immoral, (even allowing for the Italian estimate of such frailties,) as was
the nature of the connexion to which this attachment led, we can hardly per-
haps,— taking into account the far worse wrong from which it rescued and
preserved him, — consider it otherwise than as an event fortunate both for his
reputation and his happiness."

We are sorry to find those sentiments proceeding from the pen of Mr.
Moore. Tenderly as he touches the ground, he here virtually tells us,
that a base connection — an open adultery — was afortmiate event. On
this principle, the grossest vice might find its palliation. — If Lord
Byron did not commit adultery, he would have committed something
worse — is the plea for an intercourse against which the laws of God and
man equally protest; and which, instead of being less offensive to
morals, is actually the darkest and most pernicious shape which liber-
tinism can take. As to any palliative to be looked for in the profligacy
of Italian life, the ground breaks down at once. All the world knows
that Italy is a hot-bed of profligacy ; that every honorable tie of life is
there utterly derided ; and that adultery is the matrimonial habit of the
land. Italy, we also know, is incureable ; and while it submits to that
almost incredible corruption of all religion, which acquits men of the
basest crimes for money, Italy will always be a sink of abomination and
of slavery together. But we must not suffer such maxims to come so
recommended to our country. The whole romance of the Countess Guic-
cioli is, in every sense of the word, vicious; and ought to be called so.
In this career Lord Byron hastened on to his life's close. At last ennm
of the Countess, mingled with, as his biographer says, a painful con-
sciousness of his declining fame as a writer, urged him to try another
course. Greece attracted him, her unhappy cause had fixed the eyes of

1831.] Byron's Memoirs. 159

Europe on her, and with, probably, a sincere zeal for her freedom, he
sailed. But he was either too late or too early in the struggle. He
also chose his position badly. By fixing himself in an obscure corner of
northern Greece, he lost all power of serving the public interests ; fell
into the hands of a knot of intriguers and beggars ; and between rash
exposure to the climate, and vexation at the discovery that he was doing
nothing, and could do nothing, was seized with a fatal illness, of which he
died on the 19th of April, 1824. He was born in London, on the 22nd
of January, 1788.

We have now had, we must suppose, the last account which Byron
will supply to the gossiping world. The disclosures of these volumes
are unfortunate. It would have been better for his fame, if he had been
left to the impression naturally made by his poetry. His powers there
are unquestionable. He had great poetic talents, and by inventing a
style, all whose peculiarities belonged to his own character; and by
works, every line of which was a commentary upon his personal career,
he had earned for himself a distinguished place among the poets of En-
gland. Like the efforts of many celebrated writers, his first works were
his best. Of course we speak only of those written after his first residence
in Greece. In his later years he was either too idle, or too self-willed, to
take the trouble essential to eminence : and the longer he wrote, the
more his style degenerated. His Italian life was equally injurious to his
literary and his moral fame. But, attaining a high place in authorship,
he was unequal to obtain the highest prize. In tragedy he failed alto-
gether ; and from an evident and acknowledged consciousness of failure,
he at once laboured at dramatic writing, and reviled it. His tragedies,
heavy in the closet, are altogether intractable on the stage, and Shak-
speare still stands unapproached, if not unapproachable.

PRESENT STATE OF SOCIETY POWEE AND PROSPECTS OF THE

COUNTRY.

THERE is nothing which has hitherto more eminently distinguished
the Constitution of Great Britain than its tendency and power to preserve
inviolate the different relations of society, and to establish amongst them
that mutual good understanding which is the surest source of peace and
good order, as well as of rational liberty. On all its institutions, this
character is impressed ; and the key-stone of all its written and implied
wisdom is the dependance of the poor man for support and protection
upon his richer neighbour ; and the dependence of the rich, for protec-
tion and security, upon the impartiality of the law, and the gratitude of
the poor who have experienced his bounty. Independently of the two
great classes of the community — the aristocracy and the people — it
recognizes three minor divisions 'amongst the latter ; and, in spirit, pro-
vides for their distinct preservation. Amongst the more distinguished
class, it chooses the members of its legislature, its magistracy, and its
sheriffs ; and to them it entrusts the protection of the two subordinate
classes. Amongst the second class — its yeomen, its lesser gentry, and
its tradesmen — it selects those who are to sit on juries, vote in elections,
and provide for the distribution of those funds set apart for the preser-
vation of the public tranquillity, and the maintenance of the infirm and

ItJO Present Slate of Society, [Tun.

aged amongst the poor. To the lower class, it ensures protection in their
labour, safety in their home and family, and the perfect liberty of rising,
by industry or fortune, from the subordinate stations in which fate has
placed them ; and, in addition to this, allows them an unchallenged right
of claiming the privileges enjoyed by those to whose level they may
have attained.

Such is the state of society which it is the tendency of our Constitution
to create and to preserve ; and such a state, we have no hesitation in
affirming, holds out the greatest assurance of substantial and enduring
prosperity to its possessors. There has been no society, in the history
of the world, which has stood the test of time, and especially of prospe-
rity, except such as have been based on these principles ; and we know
that by no other can society be held together, without reverting to its
original elements. We could give abundant instances of the truth of
this assertion ; but it is unnecessary to look beyond our own position in
the world, and its causes. We owe nothing to circumstances. We are
but a speck compared with the rest of Europe. To what then can we
point as the cause of our superiority in wealth — in civilization — in com-
merce— in power — except we point to our Constitution, and impress
upon our own minds, and those of our children, that, whilst the rest of
Europe were embarrassed by the ever-changing circumstances of an
unsettled and imperfect state of society, the Englishman was free to
turn his whole thought and industry to the attainment of the means of
happiness ? His position in society, and the privileges belonging to it,
were alike defined and secured by settled principles. His industry was
nis own ; his wealth protected by those from whom it was derived : and
his advancement on the road to honour or to comfort unimpeded by
violence or change. There was no fear behind him — no chasm before ;
but, as he progressed from point to point, the sphere of his privileges
and power widened as the substance to be protected increased. To this
security of body and mind is to be attributed the integrity of principle
and firmness of purpose, which has ever been the distinguishing feature
of our character as a people, and the source of all our pre-eminence in
the scale of nations.

It is not our purpose to enter into any discussion upon the compara-
tive merits of the state of society, above described, and that which a
certain order of politicians have so long and ardently laboured to substi-
tute in its place. We are not enemies to the just influence of the people
in the affairs of a State ; and, on the contrary, deem such influence to be
justly and inalienably vested in them by the British Constitution : but
God forbid that, by such an admission, we should appear to accord with
one sentence of the trash which has of late issued from the lips of the
mob-orators and agitators ; or circulated, in more enduring form, amongst
the peasantry of this land ! Our meaning is as different from theirs,
as light from darkness— as their own fair seeming from the deep and
deadly meaning, which dwells in their hearts and thoughts, like a spirit
of evil, exulting in the strength by which its deeds of ruin are felt, whilst
the hand that wrought them is veiled from the eye of its victims ! The
people — we repeat — are entitled to an influence —a great influence, in
the legislature of every country ; but the rabble — whom such men seek
to exalt upon the ruins of order and civilization — do not, and ought not,
to possess one claim to such an influence ; for, in allowing this, we

1831.] Power and Prospects of the Country. 161

place brute force on a level with moral force. We place crime on a level
with virtue — ignorance with knowledge — the shedder of blood with the
unpolluted servant of God. We place the safety of our property and
of our dearest institutions in the hands of those most interested in their
destruction. We confide the peace and welfare of society to the power
of men who would not hesitate to trample, in blood, upon the hearths
of our family, and the altars of our religion ! The only safe system of
self-government which a nation can enjoy, is that recognized by. our wise
and equal laws, in which the possession of interests to be preserved confers
the right of interfering in their preservation.

The defects which time, and the consequent changes of society, have
produced in one elective system, have for years excited the attention of
men of every creed and party ; but we may safely assert that, until the
present crisis, these effects have never been so deeply felt in practice as
in theory. The question of reform was long used, by the party now in
power, as one of agitation and annoyance to government. The wildest
schemes of French philosophy were sought to be engrafted upon our
constitution ; and a constant tide of invective was levelled against many
of its noblest institutions. The influence of property was loudly decried,
and the doctrines of universal suffrage as loudly insisted on ; but, so long
as the reins of government were held by men of integrity and talent, and
the great and deserving portion of the community retains its station
and prosperity, the cry for Reform, coming, as it then did, from the vision-
ary theorists, who had sprung up into being before the flame of repub-
licanism and revolution which was then desolating the Continent; sup-
ported only by the disappointed amongst men of intellect, and by the
worthless and designing amongst their partisans, had little weight in
determining the course of measures in the state. At the close of the
war, however, this question assumed at once a more imposing aspect.
The revulsion, caused by a sudden transition from a state of war, to one
of profound peace, and the consequent embarrassments of the different
interests of the community, came upon men altogether unprepared, by
talent or energy, to meet the pressing exigency of the times. A feeble
and vacillating policy was pursued in all questions of public interest.
The administration of the affairs of the country became a game of stra-
tegy— a petty trial of cunning between party and party ; each striving
for some privilege or some measure, important to its own members, but
worthless, and in some instances, destructive to the rest of the commu-
nity. The pressing demands of the people were daily sacrificed, to sup-
port some advantage of party, or to conceal some compromise of prin-
ciple; and, when the public patience became, at length, exhausted, and
the voice of public scorn demanded a change of measures, or of men,
the only result was some paltry arrangement — some coalition, which, by
the happy balance of contending interests and measures, ensured the
public that each would be neutralized and rendered totally inefficient !
The consequences of these pitiful shifts are now felt. The parliamen-
tary talent of the present day, nursed, as it has been, in compromise and
indecision of purpose, is infinitely below that which the increased in-
telligence of the age has called forth ; and the cause of reform has pro-
portionally gained ground. The shameless prostitution of the last par-
liament united alike the Tories and Whigs in its support; and we have
now a government formed on the express principle of entering freely and
decidedly into its arrangements. What this arrangement will be, it is

M.M. New Series.— Vol. XI. No. 62. Y

1 62 Present State of Society, [FEB.

impossible for us to determine ; but we entertain firm hopes that it will
be founded on the settled principles of the constitution. The men who
are about to undertake it, have outlived most of the wild theories which
they once maintained. They have seen the worthlessness of some, and
the mischievous nature of others ; and they are now unembittered by the
disappointments of a long career of opposition. They have gained, too,
a place in the opinion of the world, which nothing but a temperate use
of their present power can secure to them; and under these circumstan-
ces, we do not despair of seeing the question settled without the aid of
any of those destructive principles which are sought to be infused into
our legislative system.

But we would not have our readers to suppose that, by such a mea-
sure of reform, the safety of our civil institutions will be at once secured.
On the contrary we assert, that it will depend entirely upon the policy
of government in other, equally important, questions, whether the
present interference with the law of election be the beginning of a period
of national renovation, or only the first step towards anarchy and con-
fusion ! The circumstances of the country — the relative position of its
different parties and interests — the very organization of its society, have,
within the last few years, undergone a serious, a dangerous change ;
and nothing but a profound attention to the operation of these circum-
stances can restore it to any thing like tranquillity. We entreat the
indulgence of our readers for a few moments, whilst we briefly glance at
a few of the leading features of these changes, and attempt to shew their
influence upon the general question of reform.

A few months ago a writer would have gained but little credit who
had ventured to assert that any serious difficulties were to be appre-
hended from the state of society in this country. The members of our
legislature looked only to the surface of things; and if matters went on
with tolerable smoothness ; if no violent convulsion of our monetary
system convulsed the leading interests of the state ; if no shock exposed
to common view the decaying prosperity of the country ; if no sacri-
legious hand tore aside the frail shroud which concealed the wasted
flesh and gaunt limbs of the skeleton, POVERTY, which stalked in dark-
ness through the land ; if the cry of disease was faint and stifled, and
the victim sunk in hopeless, sullen silence to the grave — then who durst
assert that England was in distress ? Few were they who dared to
brave the sneers of the philosophers, and we thank God that we were
amongst that few ! Now, who dare deny the existence of distress in its
most appalling extreme ? Who dare deny the danger of such distress,
when its bare terror has driven a Whig government (credite posteri!)
even to that most unpopular measure, the increase of our standing army ?
None dare now deny these things. The Joseph Surfaces of the age,
the boasting economists, the prosperity- mongers, and the quacks of
every denomination, are "dumb-foundered." They hear the cry of
ruin, they see the blaze of conflagration, and then — poor, pitiful things !
— they creep into their shells, appalled

"E'en at the sound themselves have made."

They talk of incendiaries, of men with dark lanterns and ferocious faces,
who instigate the wretched peasantry to tumult, of Belgian and French
agents stirring them to bloodshed and revolution (do the poor

1831.] Power and Prospects of the Country. 163

wretches understand French?), of Captain Swing (a vender of house-
spoons or some such ware) scouring the by-lanes in his gig, and scatter-
ing sedition by the ounce per mile ; but has it ever struck their
enlightened minds that men do not usually set fire to corn-stacks and
farm-yards at the bidding of every scrawl they pick up on the high-
way ? that a spark does not usually cause explosion, except it fall
upon gunpowder ? If these things have never struck them, why " let
them burn their books/' as the old saw teaches, " and send their wits
a wool-gathering !"

It is really disgusting to observe the mass of drivel which has been
spoken and written on the subject of these disturbances. At present we
shall go no further than to notice the state of society which they have
brought to light in all its deformity ! Throughout the whole agricultural
population of this country — a few years ago the happiest, the most
flourishing, the most peaceable class of the community — we now see
nothing but penury, degrading ignorance, and crime. The farmer is
at open feud, or concealed, but not less dangerous enmity, with his
landlord, with the clergyman, and with the tythe owner. He is sinking
in the scale of comfort and wealth ; and to enable him to gather a hard-
earned living for himself and his family, he is become the oppressor of
the poor ! Instead of supporting a number of contented labourers, he
becomes the master of so many miserable slaves, who are born to toil
through life without comfort and without hope, degraded in mind by
the certain knowledge that they must end their days in the parish poor-
house ; in such a condition of society men are ready to embrace any
measure, however dangerous and however destructive, which holds out
the most distant hope of amendment ? The change from the wretched
hovel to the county jail is to them a relief! Transportation is esteemed
almost a blessing !

But this change is not confined to our agricultural population. It
has spread through every branch of the community, and is operating in
a separation of the whole frame of society into two distinct and all-
absorbing classes, the rich and the poor I

We have no hesitation in expressing our firm conviction that, in the
present crisis, any measure of Reform, unaccompanied with other
important sanative measures, is dangerous to the welfare of the country ;
but can ministers refuse to perform the declared object of their accession
to office ? They are pledged to the country and to their sovereign.
Their character is at stake. They dare not refuse a concession which
the people are ready to enforce ! What then will be their policy — what
ought to be their policy ? They are pledged to reduction of expenditure
and of taxation ; yet how little real good will their utmost efforts effect !
The reduction of one half the expenditure of the country would be but
a feather from the burthen which is now pressing upon its resources ;
and yet this is impossible ! Their only policy, the only just policy
which can be pursued, must be founded upon a searching examination
of the workings of those mischievous theories which have been so un-
wisely introduced into our civil system, which have changed the whole
form of society, and plunged this once flourishing and happy country
into an abyss of crime and wretchedness, unparalleled in our own his-
tory, and almost in the history of the world !

We shall proceed to trace a few of the leading causes which have been
instrumental in producing, or, at the least, aggravating these disastrous

y 2

1 64 Present State of Society, [FEB.

changes. The most immediate in effect, and the most unjust because
impartial in its operation, is the alteration of the value of the circulating
medium by the la-le economists. It would be beyond the scope of this
article to enter into all the various branches of so wide a question as
that of the Currency ; but we may be justified in examining a few of its
leading features. The principal argument adduced by the economists
in favour of a circulating medium based on real value, was its safety as
compared with one which only represented such value, and the com-
parative stability with which it invested all commercial transactions.
This argument was dwelt upon by the advocates for cash payments as one
of incontrovertible truth ; and the disastrous panic of the years 1825 and
1826, with its accompanying ruin, was triumphantly pointed out as illus-
trative of the danger of the existing system. Its effects were stated to be
overtrading to a ruinous extent, production beyond any possible demand,
wild speculations entered into by persons incapable of sustaining the
reverses which might ensue, and consequent losses to the community at
large. Now amidst these apparently overwhelming evils it is astonish-
ing how few really deserve any serious consideration. The only ones
in fact which do so deserve, are not inherent parts of the system, but
excrecencies which a little restriction or regulation on the part of the
legislature might correct. It was urged that there was no security
against the issue of notes by bankers not possessed of capital sufficient to
guarantee their safety, if, by speculation or otherwise, they suffered any
sudden loss. This certainly is an evil not difficult to remedy ; but in
fact the evil never existed to half the extent supposed by those who
offered it in support of their measure. It has been ascertained that, out
of about seventy banking houses, who failed during the two years we
have mentioned, the whole, with the exception of less than half a dozen,
have since paid their engagements in full, after all the enormous sacrifices
they must have made! Many of these too were houses who never issued
a one-pound-note in the course of their practice. The system, it was^added,
induced bankers, by the advantages it offered, to extend accommodation
to persons possessed of no capital, who were thus enabled to carry on
business to the detriment of men of property, and the risk of loss to the
community. In this case we should assuredly say, that the risk, if any,
was the banker's own ; and as to the other part of the argument, we
cannot see its pertinence. Here was at least a system which enabled
men of industry (for their own sake, the bankers would give the pre-
ference to such men) to support themselves and their families in comfort,
and to support, besides, the labourers, who would otherwise have bur-
thened the poor-rates. But it was added, that by encouraging such
men we encouraged over-trading. What is overtrading ? We cannot
for the life of us tell. We became overproductive. In what ? Not in
corn, for abundance of the necessaries of life is a blessing, not a curse.
In manufactures then? Not at all, for in the great manufacturing counties,
small notes were but little used ; in Manchester and London, the great
mercantile cities of the empire, they were entirely unknown I But fur~«
ther, if we were overtrading, would that not tend to cheapen, arid is not
cheapness our great strength in foreign markets ? Can we be overpro-
ductive so long as our goods sell readily, both at home and abroad ? and
they did sell, both readily and profitably. Why, then, for the dread of
this bugbear, "overtrading/' have we sacrificed our prosperity? We shall
see anon.

1831.] Power and Prospects of the. Country. 165

The small-note system, in its first institution, was one of wise and mer-
ciful policy. The capital of the country, by the immense expenditure
and consequent taxation of a long and expensive war, had been drawn
away from its usual free circulation into the hands of comparatively a
few individuals. The mass of the people were impoverished ; and even
those who were still possessed of wealth, were suffering from its inade-
quate representation by a circulating medium. The commerce of the
country was crippled in all its operations, and the evil was one which
time would increase instead of diminishing. Under these circumstances
the measure was first introduced, and it was and is notorious, that with-
out such a measure the prosecution of the war to its successful issue, and
even the preservation of the internal peace of the country, was utterly
impossible. Here, then, the policy of Sir Robert Peel's measure becomes
a question of facts rather than of reasoning. We put out of view the
general policy of such a measure as applied under more favourable cir-
cumstances, and restrict ourselves to the inquiry of its suitableness — of
its justice — at the present moment, and under existing circumstances.
Is the country now more favourably situated than at the period when
first the one-pound-note system was introduced — at the period when it
was declared to be not only a measure of necessity but of justice — of
mercy ? We apprehend not. The same circumstances are operating
now to drain the channels of wealth into the coffers of the state, and into
the pockets of the few, — perchance the undeserving. We have still the
same funded debt, and the interest of that debt must still be paid — as
it has ever been paid — by the great consuming classes of the community,
not the capitalists. We have still the same standing army to support, and we
shall still have the same to support, till by the blessing of God — or thehang-
man — the arch agitator O'Connell can agitate no more. It is mere absur-
dity to say, that government has replaced the one-pound-notes by a safe
and plentiful gold currency. There is, doubtless, sufficient gold in the
country to pay the taxes — to pay wages — to buy food and clothing : —
but how is it to be had ? We must labour for it — pawn — mortgage—-
sell : but an honest man, with nothing to give in exchange but industry,
ability, or an unsullied reputation, can get marvellous little of it. He
must have thews and sinews, or he must starve! This is certainly the
way of the world, and we are too old in its ways to complain unneces-
sarily : but we do think that when a government has given a boon to its
people to enable them to lend more freely to its necessities, that boon ought
not in justice to be taken away till the loan be repaid !

But how did this much vituperated system work in reality — for we
are not to be for ever blinded by the gloss of knaves and fools — where
and what are the secrets of its mystic power for good or evil ? It
merely replaced the wealth, drawn from the pockets of the people by
the exigencies of the war, by a circulating medium as safe, as good —
yes, as good and as efficient for the purposes of the community, as that
which it was meant to represent and which it did represent. It has
been much the fashion to declaim against the issues of the bankers as
" filthy rags," " paper promises/' and other witty devices of the same
class, but, saving the exceeding wisdom of these declaimers, we cannot
see that they merited any such cognomina. It cannot be supposed that
the bankers circulated these fictions — we allow the name— without some
value received, some exchange of bills or securities; and if such were
the case, did not the issues of the banker, de facto, become representa-

160 Present State of Society, [FEB.

lives of this same property, or rather the same property converted for the
convenience of traffic into a circulating medium ? Again, it may be in-
quired, what became of the real cash of the banker when he was enabled
to supply its place as a means of accommodation by his one-pound
notes ? He would not for his own profit keep it in his coffers, or for
his credit invest it in land. He bought stock, or in other words, he lent
it to the State, and thus his one-pound notes represented the credit of
government. Are the vilifiers of the system prepared to depreciate a
circulation based upon such a foundation ? Are the securities of go-
vernment filthy rags ? We hope not. But to come to the effects of the
system. It enabled the country bankers to extend accommodation to
the tradesman, or in other words, to provide him with capital for the
purposes of his business. It stocked the farm of the agriculturist, the
profits of which supported his family in respectable circumstances, paid
his rent and taxes, and enabled him to increase the number and the
wages of his labourers. His stock was driven to market when it was
fat, and not, as at present, only when the rent-day was near, whatever
its condition. His corn came to market in season, and was sold at a
profit ; not sacrificed as at present for need, or to suit the scheme of
some gambling speculation in foreign grain. His poor lands were
brought into cultivation, and yearly increased in productiveness, because
he could afford, out of his surplus income, to pay for labour and to buy
manure. But the prosperity of one class of men was not selfish in its
effects — it spread through the community at large a grateful and salu-
tary influence. The shopkeeper was first benefited, the mechanic, the law-
yer— alas ! even the lawyer, for prosperity is pugnacious — and lastly, the
manufacturer and the merchant. The revenue came in for its share of
good fortune, and the condition of the country, internally and externally,
wore an appearance far, very far different from its present desolation.

We cannot view without alarm the tendency of our present commer-
cial policy. The great error of the system is its absorbing spirit, which
directs and concentrates all its operations to the aggrandizement of one
class of the community — and only one. The commercial genius of the
people is all employed in the same direction ; the strength of the state
built upon the prosperity of one mighty interest ; and even the internal
peace of the country, placed in the power of .that interest ! We admit
that our manufacturers deserved the support of the legislature ; because
they employ capital and labourers, and increased the aggregate wealth of
the community. But we do not think it wise or safe that the entire re-
sources of the country should be forced into one branch of industry ;
and that one, so susceptible of derangement — so utterly dependant for
its prosperity upon uncontrollable circumstances !

Yet such is the effect of our present policy. The amount of capital
and of labour employed in manufactures, is daily increasing ; and every
protection enjoyed by the other branches of industry swept away, as
soon as it interferes with the supposed interest of the manufacturers. As
the different classes employed in other branches of industry sink into
poverty and contempt, the number of our manufacturing population is
swelled to overflowing ; and — a natural consequence — the remuneration
for labour decreases. The consumption of the home market, owing to
the rapid spread of pauperization amongst the great consuming classes,
is becoming less every year ; and, compared with the immense produc-
tion of the country, is utterly inadequate to draw off the increasing sup-

1831.] Power and Prospects of the Country. 167

ply of goods. We are thus becoming every year more dependant upon
the demand from foreign markets ; and driven into competition with the
untaxed labour of other states. We must strive with them in toil — in
cheapness — in parsimony. Hitherto we have done this; and our supe-
rior machinery and greater skill and capital have overbalanced the ad-
vantages resulting to the foreigner, from the comparative light pressure
of taxation, and the consequent cheapness of the necessaries of life.
This superiority will not avail us long. The foreigner is now provided
with our machinery, and emulating our skill. He has attained our level
in power ; we must be content to descend to his level in condition.

It cannot, we think, be disguised, that the tendency of such a system
is dangerous to the peace of the country, and destructive of the morals
of the people ; yet he is a bold man who ventures to talk of interference
with it. The manufacturers are entrenched behind strong fortifications,
and armed with weapons; the bare contemplation of which is sufficient
to strike terror to the hearts of their most resolute opponents ! They
hold in their hands the peace of the country, and the stability of its best
institutions. Their remonstrance is, " What will become of our unem-
ployed population ?" Yes, what will become of it ? We shudder to
think. The present system bears within it the seeds of its own disso-
lution ! and he is a poor reasoner who does not admit, that the violent
dissolution of a system so productive of crime and misery, involves that
of the bonds of society. We assert it loudly and distinctly, that nothing
but a prompt attention to the workings of this system can secure the
safety of the country ! We do not advocate any headlong measures —
we advise no direct interference. The manufacturers are, and must be,
a leading body in the country ; but they must not be the only one !
Their labourers must be protected, and may be protected, without any
legislative interference between them and their masters. Let other
branches of industry be encouraged, and reinstated in the situation they
once enjoyed, and the pressure upon the market for manufacturing
labour will decrease. Let the monopoly of the capitalist be destroyed ! —
and give to the agriculturist — the ship-owner — the land-owner — and the
other sacrificed classes of the community, the protection which has been
unwisely, and unjustly, withdrawn from them ! It is too late now for
our legislators to " deprecate any further tampering with the currency !"
They were warned of its danger once ; and now when their own iniqui-
tous measure has destroyed the balance of society, and infused pauperism
and ruin into all its branches, they must do an act of justice to the suf-
ferers— even at the expense of their philosophy ! They must not be gainers
by their own fraud ! These measures will alone do more for the peace of
the country, and the real prosperity of the agriculturists themselves,
than all the liberality of the economists could ever effect.

The preceding considerations are increased to tenfold importance by
the present louring aspect of Continental affairs. The great powers of
Europe are evidently on the verge of a war, which, if we may judge
from the strength and excited feelings of the contending parties, w3l
have no small influence in determining the future prospects of society ;
and the consequences of which will be severely — although, perhaps, indi-
rectly— felt by ourselves. What the policy of our present government
will be, we are at no loss to conceive. We must stand aloof from the
struggles ; but shall we be unconcerned spectators ? No ; we shall stand
by, bleeding at every pore, with a mine charged and ready to burst in

168 Present State of Society, Power and Prospects of the Country. QFEB.

ruin beneath and around us. We shall look on, like the Titan,, chained
to his rock, unmoved by the glare of lightnings above, or the crash of
earthquakes and the roar of the ocean beneath, convulsed alone by the
strong agony of the vultures rending at his bowels.

" What will ministers do to avert such evil ?" is the question which
presses upon our attention. Will they persevere in upholding the mad
innovations of the philosophers, when their consequences "glare upon
the sense " in such terrific reality ? Are the people of England to be
for ever sacrificed to theories, or the mercenary devices of the base and
profligate ? At this time we should not attempt to weaken Lord Grey's
efforts for the public good, placed, as we feel him to be, in the most
difficult position which ever fell to the lot of any British minister ; but
we must tell him that the policy, the mischievous and unjust policy, of
the last few years cannot be maintained ! He may be pledged to pursue
the miscalled liberal measures of his predecessors ; but the attempt
will be his ruin. We entreat him to pause whilst he may do so in
safety, and to look upon the past as the only criterion for a correct
judgment of the future. He must fulfil every iota of his pledge to the
people ; but he must turn his back for ever upon miscalled Philosophy I
lie must cleanse and purify the dens of corruption which are around
him. He must lighten the burthens which press upon the industry of
the people; but he must not stop here. The prime minister of England
must do more! He must establish a new aera in political economy, of
which justice to all classes shall be the foundation, sound English feeling
the ingredient, and the happiness and virtue of the people the end ! We
tell him that the bayonet will not stop the cry of hunger ; the blood of
a suffering population will not quench the conflagration of our farm-yards
and dwellings ! The cheapening of French silks and French brandy
will not benefit the starving weaver ; nor the device of funding Exche-
quer Bills give relief to the agriculturist ! He must choose between two
great measures. He must restore to the country that Currency which
the tampering of fools destroyed, or — it will out— -he must sweep away the
whole funded Debt of the State! Which of the two is most safe and most
just, we leave himself to decide. We merely address to him one parting
caution, which he will do well to consider. We differ from him in
many points, but in one we agree with him, and with all good men.
We are disgusted with the imbecility and treachery of those slaves who
have for ever disgraced the cause of Toryism — once our pride and our
boast. We are weary of the extortions of titled beggars, of the inso-
lence of Treasury soldiers, and, more that all, of the vapidness and pre-
sumption of theorists. Let him, then, shun the rock on which they
split. Let him not meddle with theories, but reflect that true liberality,
like charity, begins at home ! G. B. J.

1831.] [ 169 ]

THE NEWSPAPER OFFICE I A DRAMATIC SKETCH FROM LIFE.

SCENE I.— The Strand. Editors Public Room.

EDITOR,, solus. HALF past nine o'clock and the post not yet come in !
Really, we must not think of venturing to press with our present scanty
show of advertisements ; it is as bad as launching into life, like the late
Mr. Perry, with eighteen-pence, a wife and three children. I know
not how it is, but our front columns seem visited with absolute sterility.
In most cases advertisements have a tendency to self-multiplication ;
one, it is said, brings another as surely as the first of the month an-
nounces a dull article in the Evangelical Magazine ; but in our case they
are like mules, incapable of propagating their kind. As if this were not
sufficient vexation, the office is thronged from morning 'till night with
visitors. First comes a retail trader in accidents with a few small pedlar
wares, such as a " calamitous fire/' a " daring burglary," or a " diabolical
murder ;" then a reporter to the Law Courts, superior certainly in intel-
ligence to his predecessor, but who might nevertheless be shot into the'
Thames without subjecting himself to a penalty for setting it on fire :
then some hungry member of the Opposition in whose beseeching coun-
tenance may be read in large characters, " Wanted : a Place ;" then
some pamphleteer, critic, or novelist, lean and irritable enough for an
epic poet ; and lastly, by way of wind-up, some extensive Hibernian
adventurer, who in the extremity of impudence and desperation has
advertised for a loan — a wife — an agency — or a clerkship, and referred
for particulars to this office. My room-door meanwhile is eternally on
the swing, an illustration of perpetual motion. It was once intended to
shut, but this operation, like the Egyptian process of embalming, has
long since fallen into, disuse. ( Enter Office-Boy with letters, fyc. ) Oh,
here comes the post. Pray heaven it sends us good news! (Editor opens
a letter and reads. ) " Milsom-street, Bath, July 31st : Sir, be pleased to
insert the inclosed advertisements in your paper of to-morrow and apply
for payment to Messrs. Barker & Co. Fleet-street, who are duly au-
thorized to settle with you. Your humble servant, Samuel Nosebag,
auctioneer and appraiser." A very eloquent epistle. The subject and
the style are in beautiful accordance with each other. Junius himself
never wrote more to the point. (Opens another letter and reads.}
" Bolton, July 28th : Mr. Editor, Sir, we are all in commotion here, for
His Grace the Duke of Wellington has just arrived at the Cock and
Tooth-pick. His Grace looks remarkably well, and is dressed in pepper-
and-salt trowsers rather out at the knees ; blue frock-coat with a small
hole in the elbow ; shoes, gaiters, and a black military travelling-cap.
Immediately on alighting, he rang the bell for the waiter, and with
singular affability called for a glass of brandy and water, cold and
without sugar. I have only just time to add that the town bells are all
ringing, that a vast crowd is collected, and that the mayor and corpor-
ation are hastening in procession with a congratulatory address to His
Grace. It is evident from this that some change in the ministry is at
hand. — P. S. Four o'clock. — The post is just going out and barely gives
me time to add that we are all mistaken in our conjectures. The strange
visitor is no duke but a French conjuror, who has but this moment ad-
vertised his intention of swallowing a bolster and standing with his
heels upwards on a punch-bowl. The mayor is in fits at the mistake and

M. M. New Series.— Vol.. XI. No. 62. Z

1/0 The Newspaper Office. [FEB.

the corporation have some thoughts of inserting the stranger gent, in the
stocks, by way of satisfaction for their disappointment. Should I hear
further on this important subject I will not fail to let you know. —
Arislides." (Opens a third letter and reads.) " Mister Edditur, Zur.
Yourself and your house and all as is in it will be blowed up this here
night. Swing." Concise, and gentlemanlike, and singularly gramma-
tical. But 'egad, I have no time for complimenting.

Enter Mr. O'FLAM, an Irish Reporter.

O'FLAM. Have I the honor to address the Editor ?

EDITOR. Excuse me, Sir, but I am very busy just at —

O'FLAM. Exactly so. I will not detain you a moment. My name,
Sir, is Dennis O'Flam — they call me Dionysius for short — and I have
but lately arrived in London, where being desirous of bettering my con-
dition, I have — excuse my abruptness — advertised for a wife in your
estimable journal. Matrimony, they say, is a cold bath, but perhaps I
may find it less chilly than I had expected.

EDITOR. Oh ! never fear ; you will be soon enough in hot water.
Under what signature did you advertise ?

O'FLAM. Hercules Broadset, and moreover requested the favour of an
interview with whomsoever should answer the advertisement, in a
private room at the office, which your clerk, in consideration of one or
two reports wrhich I had furnished gratis for the paper, was considerate
enough to offer me.

EDITOR. Hercules Broadset ! a very attractive compound.

O'FLAM. Attractive, Sir ! 'tis resistless. Consider what a fine athletic
fellow Hercules was — a hero with the lungs of a lion, and the shoulders
of an elephant, who by dint of mere muscle actually strangled a man
with three heads ! Ah, Sir, times are changed since then. So far from
meeting a man with three heads now a days, if you meet three men with
one head between them, 'tis as much as you can expect.

EDITOR. Have you received any replies to your advertisement?

O'FLAM. Dozens, Sir. But have modestly contented myself with two,
" a pensive virgin" and " a disconsolate widow." An instinctive bene-
volence inclines me to the unfortunate, and accordingly I have appointed
to meet them here this day, one at two o'clock, and the other at the half-
hour. Till then, adieu ! [Exit O'FLAM.

Enter JOB ALLWORK, a Reporter of Accidents, fyc.

JOB. Oh, Sir ! such a fire ! — quite a gem ! Scampered off to give you
the very first intelligence, and nearly broke my neck in

EDITOR. Halt, friend ! that is the hangman's business.

JOB. Don't mention it ; you make me nervous.

EDITOR. To the point, Sir, if you please.

JOB. Why you see, Sir, it appears that last night the apprentice of
old Mr. Dobbs, pawnbroker in Newport-street — who, I should premise,
has got a trick of reading in bed — happened, strangely enough, to fall
asleep over a volume of poems.

EDITOR. There is nothing strange in that ; but proceed.

JOB. While locked in the arms of Morpheus, the flame of the
bed-candlestick, somehow or other, caught hold of the young man's red
cotton night-cap ; and after singeing him, like Mr. St. John Long, made
all possible haste to communicate its ardour to the bed-curtains. Thus

1831.] The Newspaper Office. 171

delicately situated, the bed-curtains could do no less than share their
afflictions with the bed-post — the bed-post, like the good Samaritan,
sympathized extemporaneously with the door-post — the door-post with
the wall — and the wall with the staircase, until, in the fulness of time,
the whole house, from top to bottom, was one broad blazing sheet of
fire. The devouring element was a very alderman in appetite, and no
epicure, for it swallowed indiscriminately every thing that came in its
way. Just at this crisis, when the fire was in the midst of its meal, the
apprentice and his master contrived to escape through the shop- window ;
but I grieve to add that Mrs. D., who, having supped rather heartily off
fried tripe, was suffering under a visitation of the nightmare, rushed
out just in time to be knocked down by the three brass balls, which
abolished her in the twinkling of a bed-post.

EDITOR. Was there much of a crowd?

JOB. Yes, and very select. But I have written down all the parti-
culars.

EDITOR. Good ; and what remuneration do you expect ?

JOB. Why, Sir, the fire is far above the usual run of such entertain-
ments, both as regards the style and brilliancy of its execution. The
death alone is worth a guinea. However, as I hope to supply you with
many more such contingencies, you shall have it at half-price.

EDITOR. Good ; and before you go, allow me, my dear Sir, in the
most unqualified spirit of esteem, to venture upon one suggestion. You
cannot conceive what a favour you would be conferring on our esta-
blishment, in these monotonous times, if you would just try your hand at
a burglary. You have an excellent capacity, are not without ambition,
and may, I think, with a little industry, cut a figure in the newspapers.
The Old Bailey is a glorious arena for aspiring genius.

JOB. You are pleased to be facetious, Sir.

EDITOR. Facetious, my good fellow ! I never was more serious in my
life. There is a certain something in your voice, look, and manner, that
tells me you are born to rise in the world. It is a thousand pities that
you should thwart the natural bent of your genius.

JOB. Enough, Sir — I understand your hint, and depend on it you
shall hear further on the subject. There is such a thing as law, Sir.

EDITOR. I know there is; you had seven years of it yourself at
Botany Bay.

JOB. How?

EDITOR. Surely you do not forget the little erratum you made with
regard to a gent/s snuff-box, some years since, in the Strand ?

JOB. This is positively beyond endurance.

EDITOR. So the gent, thought, and therefore prosecuted you at the
Old Bailey. But come, my dear Mr. Allwork, do not let these trifling-
reminiscences disturb your equanimity. Flesh is frail, and the very
best of us are but bankrupts, so far as morality is concerned. By-the-by,
you have started a Sunday newspaper, I hear. Pray how has it been
getting on of late ?

JOB. Very indifferently, until within the last week, when, in conse-
quence of a libel which I had penned against a man of fashion, I
was lucky enough to get a horsewhipping, which

EDITOR. Excuse my interruption, Mr. Allwork ; but if, at any time,
you should think such an advertisement would be likely to promote the

Z 2

17- The Newspaper Office. [FEB.

interests of your journal, you may command my services to the utmost.
I am never backward in obliging my friends.

JOB. Really, Sir, you are very considerate ; but I am not altogether
without hopes of receiving another in time to give eclat to next Sunday's
publication.

EDITOR. I sincerely trust you may not be disappointed. But, tell
me, have you made any recent additions to your establishment? In
other words, have you caught any fresh reporters ?

JOB. No, we have had a bad season of late. The agitation of the
Union Question interferes sadly with these Irish exports. They are
kept at Dublin for the home market. — But enough of such matters for
the present. I must now go and invent a burglary — a seduction or two
— and a diabolical murder, or my Sunday readers will grumble bitterly
at the dulness of my stock of intelligence. — -\_Exit JOB ALLWORK.

Enter a Member of Parliament.

MEMBER. I have come, Mr. Editor, to pay a visit

EDITOR {aside}. A manifest erratum. For visit, read visitation. — *
You wish to see the Editor ? I am that unhappy man. Proceed, Sir,
I am all attention.

MEMBER. Without further preface, then, my name is Edwin Daven-
dot, M.P. for the free and independent borough of Humbug. I made a
speech last night in the House, on the Currency Question, which I
Hatter myself was characterized by its profundity.

EDITOR (aside}. No doubt: the chief characteristic of the bathos is
its profundity.

MEMBER. Under these circumstances, I naturally anticipated a liberal
share of consideration from the morning papers. Judge then my horror
— to say nothing of my disgust — at finding myself thus cavalierly dis-
missed— ' ' An hon. Member, whose name we could not learn, spoke a few
words on the Currency Question." Now the object of my present visit
is to request that you will do me the justice which your contemporaries
have denied, by inserting this little abstract {drawing six folio MS.
sheets from his coat-pocket} of my last night's speech in the columns of
your inestimable journal. Ministers will be in agonies at the perusal,
and you will have the satisfaction of possessing it exclusively.

EDITOR (aside). So I fear. — Really, Mr. Davendot, our columns at
present are so full, that

MEMBER. You decline the honour ?

EDITOR. Why, to tell you the truth, I —

MEMBER. Aye, out with it, let me hear the truth, if only by way of
novelty. Truth indeed ! as if an editor ever knew what it was ! Why,
Sir, a duck takes to the water, a leech to a horsepond, an alderman to a
turtle-feast, or a placeman to a sinecure, with infinitely less alacrity than
an editor to a falsehood. But am I really to understand that you decline
the insertion of my speech ?

EDITOR. You have divined my intentions, Mr. Davendot, with ad-
mirable sagacity.

MEMBER. Mighty fine, Sir, mighty fine. But let me assure you, Sir,
with all that freedom of debate which is the glorious privilege of a
British senator, that the honourable member for the free and indepen-
dant Borough of Humbug is not a man to be affronted with impunity.

1831.] The Newspaper Office. 173

EDITOR. Hear ! hear ! ! hear ! ! !

MEMBER. Sir, I am a member of the British legislature as established
by the glorious constitution of 1688, Sir, and I will bring the subject
of your corrupt press before Parliament ; I will expose its utter licen-
tiousness, Sir ; it's bare-faced effrontery, Sir ; its shameless neglect of
public spirit, Sir ; I will divide the house on the question, I will resolve
it into a committee on the question, I will follow up the question, night
after night — week after week — month after month — session after ses-
sion— till the whole profligate, prejudiced and unprincipled press,
whig — tory — liberal — or downright radical — finds too late that the
honourable member for the free and independent Borough of Humbug
is not a man to be affronted with impunity ! — [Exit, out of breath.

EDITOR, solus. What an unlucky dog I am ! Bored hourly by all
parties from a duke to a dustman. St. James's and St. Giles's have
entered into a holy alliance to drive me frantic. I was miserable enough
when married, but no sooner did I get rid of my wife, than fate, jealous
of my felicity, sentenced me for life to a newspaper. Nor is this my
sole affliction. The two proprietors are diametrically opposed to each
other. One is an Ultra, the other a Liberal, yet despite the difference of
their politics, they coalesce most lovingly in annoying me. Well, well,
with all its vexations, there is nothing like a newspaper to incul-
cate a true knowledge of the world. It is there youth anticipates
the experience of age, and enthusiasm finds its level : there the hum-
bug of fashion — of trade — of literature — of the fine arts — of patriotism
— of religion — of morality, stripped of its specious drapery, stands out in
naked deformity ; there and there alone, the novice learns early to discri-
minate between the true and false in men and things, in nature and art.
Not a column in a newspaper but points a sterling moral. The police-re-
ports expose the crimes — the reviews the follies — the advertisements the
lucre-loving spirit of mankind. The parliamentary debates prove to
what extent the dullness of the human mind can be carried when once
it assumes the form of oratory. There are longer ears in St. Stephen's
than I ever saw pricking up at the sight of a thistle! As regards the
moral influence of the newspaper ; never yet did prince or potentate wield
such tremendous power ! Tyranny is blasted at its voice ; the march
of armies is arrested at its bidding. It calls on freedom, she comes
forth ; it proclaims her advent to the world, and the regenerated world
leaps up at the tidings. What is the sword ? The unwieldly weapon of
Goliah. What the pen ? The little stone of David. What the news-
paper ? The sling that drives the pebble home. And " so ends my
catechism." Dixi ; 1 have done.

SCENE II. — Proprietor's Room at the Office. Mr. Western, one of the Pro-
prietors, seated at a Table. Pamphlets — Magazines — Bills of Mor-
tality, fyc. lying about.

Mr. WESTERN reads, "On the whole, we are decidedly of opinion that
parliamentary reform is the sole step now left to preserve the peace of
the country." Capital, 'pon honour, I never wrote better in my life,
even Brougham himself might envy my deduction. After all, there is

no amusement equal to political composition, as dear Lady J would

say. ( Takes up the Morning Post.) I wonder who sings at the Opera
to-night ? Lablache, by Jove ! oh, the divine vocal Colossus ! (Hums
O Patria ! ) A fine air that, and how nobly the Pasta— by the by, I won-

174 The Newspaper Office. £FEB.

der what o'clock it is ? Really, this writing for newspapers is dull
work ; I hate writing, it looks so like an author.

Enter Mr. SCRIP, another Proprietor.

SCRIP. Any news to-day ?

WESTERN. None of any moment. I see by the Times of this morn-
ing that the bills of mortality have increased considerably within the last
year.

SCRIP. Indeed ! Then our friend Dr. Versailles is getting into prac-
tice. But have we any thing from your pen to-day ?

WESTERN. A mere trifle. A leading article on parliamentary re-
form.

SCRIP. Sorry to hear it, Mr. Western, I hate the very mention of
reform ; it sounds so like revolution.

WESTERN. Nonsense, Scrip ! the March of Intellect will effectually
prevent any commotion of that sort.

SCRIP. Aye, there it is. The March of Intellect is now a-days the
cant term for every outrageous innovation. It is the golden calf of
state — the curse of religion — the ruin of morality. It bids the peasant
affect the politician — the commoner the lord — the pickpocket the patriot.
It robes philosophy in petticoats — apostacy in lawn-sleeves — roguery in
the Serjeant's coif. It sends A. to parliament — B. to Newgate — C. to the
gallows. It confounds the distinctions between vice and virtue — genius
and eccentricity — generous enthusiasm and stark staring madness. It
anticipates the millenium of knaves, quacks, fools, and libertines ; de-
praves all human, and supersedes all divine institutions. We live in
strange times, Mr. Western. The very framework of society is broken
up. Nothing goes on as it used to do, for even the physical follows the
fashion set by the moral world. We have our spring in summer — our
summer in autumn— our autumn in the depth of winter. A few years,
and confusion twice confounded shall dance the hays through Europe.
The elements of convulsion are gathering — the fiends of anarchy are
abroad — the very atmosphere smells of blood. At this present moment
England is panting to abolish France ; France casts a sheep's-eye at
England ; Russia hungers for a fat slice of Prussia ; Prussia affects an
equal appetite for Belgium ; Belgium cuts up Luxembourg for a lunch ;
and worse — far worse— than all, the funds have fallen three per cent,
and I have lost ten thousand pounds by the decline.

WESTERN. Allow me to observe, Mr. Scrip, that this March of Intel-
lect which you so super-eloquently deprecate, has —

SCRIP. Shewn itself in an improved method of picking pockets —
swallowing prussic-acid — playing waltz-tunes on the chin — curing ladies
of consumption by rubbing holes in their short ribs behind a screen —
boring tunnels in the earth, and ears in the House of Commons — build-
ing theatres one day which tumble down the next — and manufacturing
steam-coaches, scaffolds, new churches, rail-roads, and joint-stock-com-
panies.

WESTERN. Well, Sir, and it is by these very improvements, that the
country has attained to its present flourishing condition.

SCRIP, Flourishing condition ! How can that be ? Government have
curtailed one third of my income.

WESTERN. And my rents in North Wales have risen one-third.

SCRIP. The funds have fallen three per cent.

1831.] The News-paper Office. 175

WESTERN. The Opera boxes are all let for the season.

SCRIP. Rothschild says he never knew money so scarce.

WESTERN. Crockford swears he never knew it so plentiful.

SCRIP. Pshaw ! who is Crockford ?

WESTERN. And who is Rothschild? — (Takes up his hat abruptly, to
quit the room).

SCRIP. A word, Mr. Western, before you quit, and I have done. The
anarchical revolutionary spirit of the age has so wholly bewildered your
better faculties, that a return to good sense, though much to be desired,
is manifestly not to be expected. I have therefore only to wish — and I
do so from the bottom of my soul — that as you are such a staunch advo-
cate for these new improvements, your very next voyage may be in a
balloon ; your next ride, on a rail-road ; your next speculation, in a
tunnel ; your next residence, in a new square ; and your next amusement,
in a new theatre. — [Exeunt ambo.

SCENE III. — Editor's Public Room.

EDITOR, Mr. O'FLAM.

O'FLAM. 'Tis time my " pensive virgin" were here.

EDITOR. Do not make yourself uneasy ; the lady will be punctual,
depend on it. Marriage is not a speculation in which women are apt to
be behind time.

Enter an Office-Boy.

BOY. A lady in the private room would wish to speak with Mr. H.
Broadset.

O'FLAM. Tell her, I attend. [Exit Boy.] — Now, thou guardian deity
of Ireland — thou, who hast cased in triple brass the faces of thy chosen
Milesians — thou, whose high-priest is an Irish adventurer, whose
favourite dialect is the Irish brogue — omnipresent, omnipotent, omni-
scient Impudence ! 'for this once befriend me. Never yet have I in-
voked thy name in vain. — [Exit O'FLAM.

EDITOR. Nor ever will, I'll answer for it.

Enter an Attorney.

ATTORNEY. I have come, Mr. Editor, on some very painful business,
relative to a police-report which appeared in your estimable and widely-
circulated journal of the 5th instant. In that report, Sir, you are made
to charge my client, Isaac — better known by his alias of Ikey — Single-
ton, with being the receiver of stolen goods, well knowing that they
were stolen. Hard case this on a gent, like my worthy client, wrho lives
solely by his character.

EDITOR. Indeed! He lives then on what any other man would
starve.

ATTORNEY. Of that I am no judge. — However, Sir, to come at once
to the point. Mr. Singleton, overpowered by his anguished feelings,
and touched to the quick in the most sensitive point, his honour, has
empowered me to make the following temperate and reasonable propo-
sitions to you. First, that within two hours you place in my hands for
his use, the sum of £300. ; secondly, that you instantly retract your
calumnious accusation, and, in the most conspicuous part of your jour-
nal, express your conviction of the perfect purity of his conduct as a
man and a gent.

EDITOR. Pay three hundred pounds ! Why, Sir, your worthy client's

1 76 The. Newspaper Office. [FEB.

character is extravagantly over-estimated at as many pence. With
respect to retracting the charge, Mr. Singleton, if I mistake not, has
lately figured in that part of his Britannic Majesty's Australian domi-
nions, better known by the name of Botany Bay.

ATTORNEY. Ahem ! a — hem ! — He has been unfortunate, I grant.

EDITOR. He has also had an affair of honour with the Old Bailey.

ATTORNEY. Misfortunes seldom come singly.

EDITOR. Moreover, his name was included in the list of fashionable
departures for Brixton last spring.

ATTORNEY. The air of that neighbourhood was recommended to him
by his physician. He was always weakly.

EDITOR. You have said quite enough. I shall neither pay — retract —
nor apologize.

ATTORNEY. Then, Sir, it becomes my painful duty to inform you that
proceedings will be forthwith commenced against you. Anticipating
some such reply, I have already engaged the services of Sir J. Scarlett,
who assures me that the report in question is an atrocious libel, and that
he sympathizes from the bottom of his soul, with the wrongs of my
excellent client, who, like himself, has fallen a victim to a licentious
press. May I request that you will favour me with your attorney's
name and address ?

EDITOR. Attorney ! What should I know of an attorney ? Do you
think I have no respect for my character ?

ATTORNEY. Good : that's actionable. If A — wilfully, and with
malice aforethought, insult B — , and thereby wound his (the aforesaid
B — 's) good name and reputation, then A

EDITOR. Will be so good as to quit the room, or else B

ATTORNEY. Will kick him down stairs. Assault and battery, with
intent to provoke a duel. Actionable to the fullest extent. If A —
kick B — down stairs, then A

EDITOR. Shews that he knows how to do justice to a pettifogger.

[Exit Attorney, and re-enter O'FLAM, hurriedly.

O'FLAM. What a blunder ! But, thank Heaven, I have got rid
of her.

EDITOR. You seem agitated, Mr. O'Flam. Has your matrimonial
lottery-ticket turned up a blank ?

O'FLAM. Sir — I — excuse my agitation, but really my feelings are so

overpowered, that In short, Sir, in the pensive virgin I spoke to you

of, I have discovered — how shall I mention it ? — a

EDITOR. Former chere amie ? Very awkward, indeed !

O'FLAM. Not exactly, but— neither more nor less than my old land-
lady, whose lodgings I left about a month since, and under circum-
stances of so unpleasant a nature, that, in the agitation of the moment, I

actually forgot to But excuse my proceeding further on this painful

topic — my blushes must plead my apology.

EDITOR. So I perceive. Does your pensive virgin insist on pay-
ment ?

O'FLAM. Payment ! and from me too ! No, Sir, the good lady has
arrived at that discreet age which forbids her to indulge longer in san-
guine anticipations. Besides, her gentle heart was so wrung by the
unexpected rencontre, that her interest was quite at fault, and she quitted
the room, curtseying at every five steps, with a face glowing like a
copper saucepan. — But to turn to a more agreeable topic. Allow me,

J831.] The Newspaper Office. 177

since I have failed in my matrimonial projects, to volunteer my services
as a reporter to your intelligent journal. At Trinity College, Dublin,
where my abilities, I flatter myself, met with

EDITOR. How, then, came you to leave it ?

O'FLAM. Why, Sir, I unfortunately happened to have a dispute with
my uncle, respecting some money \vhich he pretended to have advanced
me, in the course of which, conceiving my honour injured, I was under
the afflicting necessity of applying for satisfaction to his nose. This
brought on a duel, wherein I had the ill-luck to wing my venerable
kinsman. But the worst is to come. The next day I discovered that
my uncle was right, so hurried off to his lodgings, and should have made
every requisite apology, only

EDITOR. He was dead before you arrived.

O'FLAM. Yes, Sir, as dead as the small-beer at a Wai worth boarding-
school. However, except for the look of the thing, 'tis of no great con-
sequence ; for so long as pawnbrokers exist in London, and one rag
sticks to another on my back, I shall never be in want of uncles to
supply me with funds.

Enter Office-Boy.

BOY. Another lady in the private room is desirous to speak with Mr.
Hercules Broadset.

O'FLAM. Another landlady, by Jove ! Pray, Sir, go and tender her the
very respectful regrets of Mr. H. Broadset, that from a previous engage-
ment he is unable to grant the expected interview. I have had enough
of matrimony to last me my life. The very thought of it gives me the
heart-burn. — \_Exit EDITOR, manet OFLAM.]

SCENE III. — A Private Room at the Office. A Lady seated alone at a

table.

LADY. Heigho! I feel a strange sensation at my heart. What a
thing it is to be so susceptible ! But I was always delicate, as poor dear
Dr. Killquick used to say. The very idea of a second husband over-
powers me. Gracious heavens, how my heart beats ! Broadset, what
an attractive name ! Hercules, how captivating ! Oh, if the person of
the dear man do but answer to his name, I shall be — bless me, how I
tremble ! What a trying moment !

Enter EDITOR.

EDITOR. I am come, Madam, on the part of Mr. Hercules Broadset,
to say —

LADY (turning her head aside and simpering.) Amiable man, what deli-
cacy of voice, what refinement of address ! — \_She turns affectedly towards
him, at the same time raising her veil.~\ — Mercy on me ! my husband,
Mr. G !

EDITOR. Damnation ! my wife, Mrs. G !

LADY. How is this ? I was given to understand you were dead long
since.

EDITOR. So I was, Ma'am, on the same principle that a debtor is
ie not at home" to his dun.

LADY. Inhuman man ! Is this the way you treat me after so long a
separation ?

EDITOR. Treat, Madam ! Would you call it a treat if an apothe-
cary were to set you down to a glass of rhubarb bv way of a relish ?

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 62. 2 A

178 The Newspaper Office. [FEB.

LADY. What a brute ! Tell me, Sir, now that you look on me once
more, have you no regard for the manifest delicacy of my constitution ?
Mark me well ! Am I not — thanks to your prolonged injustice — the
very picture of ill-health ? Am I not consumptively inclirfed ?

EDITOR. Yes, at meal times.

LADY (coaxingly). Really now, my dear — .

EDITOR. Dear ! Like enough ; I always thought I felt antlers
sprouting here. — (Points insignificantly to his forehead. )

LADY. Fool — dolt — idiot !

EDITOR. Right, or I should never have married you.

LADY. Ah \ my first husband, Mr. T , never used me so. I lived

in heaven with him.

EDITOR. I wish to God you were with him now.

LADY. Gracious heaven, I shall go mad !

EDITOR. That's nothing new.

LADY (weeping). Cruel, cruel man, how have I deserved this of you ?

EDITOR (aside). Tears ! She cannot surely be feigning now ! I fear
I have gone too far. — (He hesitates, then moves towards her.) One word,
Madam, and it remains with yourself, whether or no we shall again
reside together under the same roof. You are well aware of my nervous,
febrile temperament, the cause of all our disputes. You well remember
those halcyon moments when, in the fervour of domestic discussion, you
were in the habit of clinching your arguments with the candlestick, while
I rejoined with the footstool. Answer me, then, once for all, and in
earnest. Knowing all this, are you again willing to take me and my
nerves under your gracious patronage and protection ? For my own
part — having been always an adventurous speculator, even where the
odds were against me — I am willing to resume the experiment. Years
have passed since last we met, and have brought, no doubt, proportion-
ate wisdom to both. With respect to external attractions, you, I perceive,
have lost your hair, and I my teeth, so that neither is again likely to be
jealous of the other. Henceforth, " Othello's, occupation's gone." I am
far from apprehensive of any Cassio running away with my venerable
Desdemona — unless, indeed, for the value of her wig — and as for my
running, it is wholly out of the question, I have been lame with the
gout for years. A slug would beat me now, even though I had ten
yards start of him. Such being the case, I cannot but think we have
some slight chance of domestic felicity — at least for one hour in the
twenty-four — and let me assure you, Madam, that, as times go, one hour's
peace per diem is a very handsome allowance for the married state. You
see I am far from unreasonable in my expectations.

LADY (shaking hands with him). I accede to your terms.

EDITOR. Then I am the happiest of men.

LADY. Ay, so you said when you first beguiled me from my state of
widowhood.

EDITOR. True, Madam, I have said many foolish things in my time.

Enter O'FLAM.

Mr. O'Flam, you behold me in a new condition. I have added an
appendix to the volume of my life, and in the person of this lady have
discovered a long-lost wife.

O'FLAM. Pardon my embarrassment, but I feel myself peculiarly
situated. I scarcely know whether to condole with, or congratulate you
on the discovery.

1831.] The Newspaper Office. 179

EDITOR. Your hesitation is natural, and as a proof that I respect its
motive, allow me the honour of enrolling you in the list of our reporters.
I will not insult the delicacy of your feelings by any exaggerated offer
of payment. The pride of intellect., I know, disdains the contamination
of filthy lucre ; you shall, therefore — but enough of such matters for the
present. Time wears ; and as my whole morning has been wasted in
interruptions, and the paper is now on the eve of publication, I shall
dismiss all original comment with the very serviceable and saving
remark, " that nothing of importance has occurred in the political world
since we last went to press."

[Exeunt Omnes.~\

THE DESOLATE. ,

BY AN IMITATOR OF

L. E. L.

A BITTER blighted lot was her's,
Though fair her fate may seem ;

To her the golden tints of life
Were darker than a dream.

Her path was as a garden, strewn
With blossoms wild and fair ;

But on her breast a Rose-leaf fell,
And left its shadow there.

Her very morn was as the light

Of a pale starry eve.
With fame and beauty, friends and youth,

How could she fail to grieve !

And still in every sunny spot

A shade was ever near ;
It might be from the mountain pine —

Or a proud Cavalier.

Her spirit's finest chord was snapt,
The strains of joy were mute —

What should she do but sing wild songs,
And touch a tuneless lute !

Alas ! it is a piteous sight

To see the wine-cup fall,
And the bright brow of youth obscured

By a dark cypress-pall.

Yet thus it is, and still we live

To smile above the dead ;
Oh ! why — when Lilies are so pale —

Why must the Rose be red ?

2 A 2

[ 180 ] [FEB.

EVIL CONSEQUENCES OF SECTARIAN INFLUENCE IN COLONIAL

AFFAIRS.

•

We have frequently had occasion to deprecate the manner in which
our foreign dependencies are governed. Instead of a number of happy
and prosperous communities, rejoicing in the protection of a nation
which, perhaps, owes the maintenance of its very independence more to
its pre-eminence as a colonial power, than to any other cause, we now
see discontent and dissatisfaction universally prevalent, accompanied by
great irritation, deterioration of property, and serious apprehensions for
personal safety. We have also the mortification to see the colonies of
other nations rapidly rising in wealth, and prospering on the ruin of
those of Great Britain ; and our rulers — instead of listening to the dic-
tates of sound political wisdom in the management of our trans-atlantic
possessions — trifling with questions of minor importance, and harassing
the authorities abroad with measures which, so far from being calculated
to do good to any class of society in the colonies, only serve to make
obstinacy more obstinate, apprehension more fearful, and to create uni-
versal disquiet !

If the self-constituted society at Aldermanbury, or the Wesleyan
government at Hatton Garden, receive from any of their agents, or itine-
rant missionaries, an ex-parte statement, containing matter affecting the
character of individuals in the colonies — no matter whether these indi-
viduals are magistrates, clergymen of the established church, or other-
wise filling the most respectable situations ; and however incredible, or
ill-supported by evidence, may be the allegations brought against them —
off goes a detail of these surreptitious and generally slanderous accu-
sations to the colonial department of his Majesty's Government ; and, if
an answer is delayed for a few days, down comes a letter " to the Right
Honourable, £c., &c., his Majesty's principal Secretary of State for the

Colonial Department/' in these terms : " Sir, — On the instant, I(?)

transmitted to you, by order of the Committee of the Wesleyan Missionary
Society, a memorial, &c./'* and in due time Mr. Horace Twiss, or some
other secretary, acknowledges its receipt, and courteously tells them, that
" The Secretary of State will give due attention to any statements which
shall be received from the Committee." By the first packet a repetition
of this statement is sent off to the colonial governor, who is peremptorily
called upon to investigate the matter, with full instructions how to pro-
ceed, should the accused parties be found guilty ; and commanding his
excellency, after due investigation, to transmit his " report and opinion,
together with the materials on which they shall have been founded."
So that the Colonial Department may also form its opinion, and give
such further directions as the " saints " may in their wisdom consider
necessary !

With as much diligence as if the affair were one of the greatest im-
portance to the welfare of the colony, the governor and the law authori-
ties must, of course, proceed to the investigation : — individuals are, in a
manner which necessarily is extremely harassing to them, called upon
to answer extra-judicially, accusations which they, perhaps, never heard

* Vide Sir Geo. Murray's letter to the Earl of Belmore, dated 6th May, 1830.—

Vide Mr. Townley's letter to Sir Geo. Murray ; and Mr. Twiss's reply Parl.

Paper, A., No. 91—23, Dec. 1830.

1831.] Colonial Affairs. 181

of before ; they give the requisite explanations, exculpating themselves,
and indignantly add, that they are ready to meet any charge which
may be preferred against them in a court of justice, where their actions
"will be investigated before a legal tribunal of twelve honest men/'
The accuser is then called upon to substantiate by evidence the accus-
ations made : he, as in the case before us, refuses to do so, and there
appears to be no law to compel him. In the meantime, his injurious
allegations are made public ; they are printed and bruited forth at anti-
colonial meetings in all parts of the United Kingdom as indubitable
facts ; and, ultimately, out comes a parliamentary document on the sub-
ject, printed at a considerable expense to the country, in the same
manner as if it were a treaty of commerce and amity with some sove-
reign state, or the particulars of a negociation upon which depended the
fate of kingdoms, giving a quite different version of the affair !

The document before us, which has given rise to these remarks, is
properly enough entitled " Copies of all communications relative to the
reported maltreatment of a slave, named Henry Williams, in Jamaica,"
but it is headed in large characters, as being " relative to the maltreat-
ment/' &c.. the word " reported" being left out, thus at once creating an
unfair impression, by assuming as a fact prima facie that which, in
truth, and according to the proper title, is only mere report !

This "Return" commences with a long memorial addressed by the com-
mittee of the Wesleyan Missionary Society to Sir George Murray, the
main object of which was to persuade government to disallow a bill
which had been passed by the legislature at Jamaica under the sanction
of the governor, the Earl of Belmore, of which we gave some parti-
culars in our last number. This application, as our readers are aware,
was but too successful, and in consequence the slave population, to use
the words of Sir George Murray, are still deprived " of the many
advantages which the wisdom and humanity of the colonial legislature
proposed to confer upon them," and of that legal protection which the
Earl of Belmore characterizes as being more favourable to the slaves
than any former act !

In this memorial the Wesleyan committee, after Reiterating former
alleged grievances, long ago investigated and put to rest — bring for-
ward new matter of accusation against the colonists in this distinct
form. " The committee have before them the case of a slave, of
excellent character, who but a few months ago was almost flogged
to death, and is not yet recovered from his barbarous treatment, for
no other causes than attending at the services of a Wesleyan chapel.
They have a still more recent account of another slave who was seized
when passing the house of the rector of St. Ann's, and laid down and
flogged, by that reverend Gentleman's orders, because he was a notorious
Methodist ; an outrage which, upon the complaint of the owner of the
slave to the custos, the rector was obliged to compromise, thereby rendering
the fact indubitable." The memorial then proceeds to state, in pretty
plain terms, that even if an act did pass prohibiting night-preaching,
the negroes would set it at defiance. " Nor is it at all probable that the
missionaries themselves would forsake their charge through fear of fines
and imprisonment, unless directed so to do by the committee." In other
words, that the sectaries and their 20,000 followers (for that is the num-
ber said to be attached to them) would obey no law but that imposed
by the committee at the Wesleyan Mission-house, 77> Hatton Garden !
Without noticing this apparent defiance of government, let us proceed to

182 Evil Consequences of' Sectarian Influence in [[FEB.

the distinct charges above mentioned. The committee, in a subsequent
letter, offer to submit such particulars of these cases as they have re-
ceived from their correspondents, if it be the wish of government ; to
which Mr. Horace Twiss replies, in substance, that they may exercise
their own discretion, and that due attention will be paid to any state-
ments they may send. In reply to this letter, the missionary committee
wrote a few days afterwards to say — " The case of the punishment of
slaves in Jamaica for attending the mission chapel in St. Ann's parish
were not made matter of complaint," &c., but they send, for the perusal
of Sir George Murray, such extracts from the letter of Mr. Whitehouse
(the accuser) as relate to the cases referred to, " which are not, however,
the only instances which have occurred of the punishment of slaves for
attending the ministry of our missions."

Then comes long extracts from the letters and journal of Whitehouse,
containing such a mass of contemptible tittle-tattle, alleged to have
passed between him and various negroes, his confidants, as we are sure
must disgust every man of common sense who reads them; — but, at the
same time, throwing out the most bitter calumnies against Mr. Betty, a
magistrate, and the Rev. Mr. Bridges, the rector of the parish. (< I
lately fixed," says he, " on Henry Williams for a leader or catechist."
This man it appears is a slave on an estate of which Mr. Betty had
the management as attorney, and Whitehouse does not pretend to say
he ever asked Mr. Betty's consent to Henry's becoming a catechist, a
matter which, in common courtesy and seeing that it was very likely
to intefere with his duty on the estate, he certainly was bound to do.
Mr. Betty is alleged to have said to Henry, "I hear you are becoming
a great preacher at the chapel, but if I hear that you ever go there
again I'll send you to Rodney-hall workhouse." " This is a place," says
Whitehouse, " of extraordinary punishment," and negroes are sent from
different places of the island " to this seat of darkness," because it is
generally known that they are treated with the greatest severity.

Mr.. Betty, it is said, (for all this is the mere ipse dixit of Whitehouse)
— visited the estate next day, and threatened the negroes with the sever-
est punishments 'if ever they wrent to the chapel again, and hearing
one of the women (Henry's sister) sigh, said, " Lay her down, she is one of
the preachers too." She, although a free- woman, was immediately laid
down, says Whitehouse, and received a very severe flogging ! An al-
leged conversation between the rector and this slave Williams, is next
detailed, wherein, " his reverence," as Whitehouse ironically denominates
him, is described as telling Henry, " there is an account, in the last week's
papers, of the Methodists in England being hanged by hundreds." After
a good deal of going backward and forward between Whitehouse's resi-
dence, and that of another missionary — Mr. Martin, one of the servants of
the latter, is said to have told Whitehouse, that he had met the slave Wil-
liams going to the workhouse — lashed round, and his arms bound with
new ropes, although he was ready to go unbound. " I felt/' says
Whitehouse, " how necessary it was to act with prudence ; but as I am
fully sensible that one poor man in the course of the last year died from
punishment which he received in the St. Ann's workhouse, for coming
to our chapel, I felt it to be my duty to endeavour at least to prevent
a second death of this kind." — And what does he do ? He rides off to
ask Mr. Betty about it, and what was the result ? why, " Mr. B. was
from home/'!!!

In another letter from Whitehouse, a long, rambling account is given

1831.] Colonial Affairs. 183

of conversations with Henry's sister, who is made to call Mr. Betty,
" a great fish who would swallow her up," but not one word is said of the
flogging she is alleged to have got. And this letter concludes with re-
flections on the interference of the Rev. Mr. Bridges : " May I not say
he is the mainspring in this machine ? He says, he is sorry for Henry
Williams to be in such a dismal place as the Rodney-hall, alias St.
Thomas-in-the Vale workhouse ; and yet this reverend gentleman has
two slaves at this moment in this wretched place."

The next extracts are given from a letter, dated 4th November, 1829,
wherein Whitehouse says, in reference to Williams, (( Such was his
punishment in the Rodney-hall workhouse, that in a few weeks he be-
came so ill, that the manager had the chains taken from him, and placed
him in the hospital, where it was expected he would give up the ghost."
" Mr. Betty became exceedingly angry that the manager of the work-
house had released him of his chains, said that his sickness was feigned,
and that he would remove him to the workhouse of St. Thomas-in-the-
East." " His poor wife begged I would undertake the cause of her nearly
murdered husband." " I knew of a friendless individual who was thus
being literally butchered for no other offence than that of coming to our
chapel," — and what is now done by this intrepid defender of the oppres-
sed ? let him speak for himself. " I sat down and wrote a letter to the
editor of the Watchman, under the signature of a subscriber !" In a
few days Henry was let out of prison in a very pitiable state.

There is yet another paper, entitled, " entry in the journal of White-
house," of a date prior to that of the last letter, containing a great deal
of gossip about an elderly white lady, a Mrs. S., and her methodist
slave, George, who was to be summoned as a witness against Henry.
" He (George) is a man of an excellent character, as is known to the
white people in this neighbourhood, but his offence, like that of Henry,
is coming to our chapel. Not long ago he happened to be passing the
residence of the rev. rector of this parish, who ordered him to be laid
down and flogged ; the order was obeyed, and he received such a severe
flagellation that it was with great difficulty lie walked home afterwards,
which was not more than a mile distant ; Mrs. S. became indignant at
this abominable conduct of the parson, and some time after, as soon as
George was able to leave home, she sent him to his honour the custos,
with a letter of complaint against the Rev. Mr. Bridges. His honour
wrote a letter to Mr. Bridges on the subject, and appointed a day for
inquiring into his conduct. The day arrived, and several gentlemen
were assembled, whose professed object was to investigate the business,
but the rev. gentleman employed a friend of his (?) to compromise the
matter with George, which he did, by giving him a trifling sum of
money, which he told him he was to consider as satisfaction for the
injury Mr. Bridges had done him. This happened but a short time
before this rev. gentleman was publicly tried by a special vestry for
maltreating a female servant !" — But, as if to shew more clearly the
animus by which he is governed, Mr. Whitehouse charitably omits to
mention that on this charge Mr. Bridges was acquitted ! !

It has been with feelings of immeasurable disgust that we have waded
through the tissue of cant and malignity exhibited in these papers,
and compressed it into as short a statement as possible. Let us now
see the proceedings adopted to refute or substantiate these charges.
On the 6th of May, 1830, Sir George Murray transmits them to the
Earl of Belmore, who, on the 10th of August, writes that he had

184 Evil Consequences of Sectarian Influence in [[FEB.

received the answers of Mr. Betty and Mr. Bridges, which he had
placed in the hands of the Attorney-General, for the purpose of con-
sidering whether any, and what further investigation may be neces-
sary in regard to Mr. Whitehouse' s statement; and, on the 27th of
August his lordship transmits the report of the Attorney-General (Hugo
James, Esq.), with the answers alluded to; and states that, in com-
pliance with Mr. James's advice, he should ' ' call upon Mr. Whitehouse
to substantiate his complaint against Mr. Betty, by transmitting au-
thentic documents, verified on oath, to the Crown Office, when proceed-
ings will be adopted, consonant with the principles of British judicature,
to obtain a full and impartial investigation of the matter, so as to ensure
a legal conviction or acquittal/'

This, our readers will say, was the straight-forward, the English course
of proceeding. But before we see how Mr. Whitehouse contrived to
evade it, let us look at the explanations of the accused, and the Attorney-
General's opinion thereon. That gentleman reports to the governor, that
as both MY. Betty and Mr. Bridges decline to enter into any discussion
whatever with Mr. Whitehouse, (as, indeed, what gentleman placed in
their situation, and possessing the slightest degree of honourable feeling,
would ?) on the merits, or demerits, of the complaint preferred by him
against them, (e I am unable to form any opinion on the statement of
Mr. Whitehouse, uncorroborated, as it were, by the oath of the accused
himself, or by the testimony of others who are competent to substantiate
the same before the ordinary tribunals of the country ;" and he therefore
recommends, that Mr. Whitehouse be called upon to substantiate his
complaint against Mr. Betty, and points out the course which it was
competent for him to pursue, as already above stated in Lord Belmore's
despatch. — ec As far as the Rev. G. W. Bridges is implicated," says the At-
torney-General, t( it is but justice that I should convey to his Excellency
my humble opinion, that he has refuted the charges which tend to cast a
reflection on his character as a clergyman, by the unjust insinuation of
harshness and severity of the confinement of two of his domestics in the
Rodney-hall workhouse, which is designated by Mr. Whitehouse as the
f. seat of darkness/ Whereas it appears, that ONE is A CRIMINAL SEN-
TENCED BY THE LAWS OF THE ISLAND TO IMPRISONMENT FOR LIFE,
AND THE OTHER 13 EMPLOYED AS A HIRED DOMESTIC BY HER OWN FREE

WILL AND CONSENT." " The alleged punishment of a slave of Mr. Bridges
is distinctly denied, and it relates to an occurrence which took place
several years back, when he was ordered off the property, where he was
detected trespassing on the provision grounds of Mr. Bridges' servants,
since which period Mr. Bridges states he has evinced towards the same
individual trifling acts of kindness,* which Mr. Whitehouse has illiberally
converted into measures of compromise to avert a prosecution."

Here we have the unbiassed opinion of the Attorney-General on the
subject of these accusations, and surely no opinion could place the
conduct and veracity of Whitehouse in a more contemptible light.

Although active enough in preferring underhand charges against his
neighbours, Mr. Whitehouse seems to have made very little open exer-
tion in favour of his suffering disciple. Why, we would ask, did he
not go repeatedly to Mr. Betty until he received a distinct answer ? or
if investigation was denied, why not have applied to the custos or

* " I have since," says Mr. Bridges, "married that man, and had the opportunity of
rendering him trifling services; but nothing in the shape of compromise."

1831.] Colonial Affairs. 185

another magistrate? But this, we presume, would not have answered
the purpose of the sect of which Mr. Whitehouse is a member !

We consider it unnecessary to give at length the manly and straight-
forward defence of Mr. Bridges. We believe the above declaration of
the Attorney-General in his favour, will be sufficient for his exculpation,
in the mind of every honest man. He does not deny, that he used fair
endeavours to rescue Williams from what he calls the trammels of the
missionaries, " but I used no threat, no compulsion, nor indeed could
I use any with those who were not under my control. When I observe
around me many who were once contented, now poor, spiritless, and
dejected, I cannot, as a Christian clergyman, behold the progress of
such extensive mischief, without employing my humble, but zealous en-
deavours, to save my flock from wholesale misery ; but I have never
controlled their religious feelings by unfair means; my house is open to
family prayers every evening, but I have confined my interference to
inviting them there, and to the offer of my best advice/'

With regard to the maltreatment of a female servant, Mr. Bridges
alludes to it as a former effort of sectarian malignity, perpetrated through
the artful accusation of a suborned slave, and " defeated only by the
fortunate circumstance of my possessing European domestics :" and he
justly complains of the prejudice and injury done to him in his profes-
sional character in England, and the ruinous expense entailed upon him
in consequence of these unjust accusations.

The letter of Mr. Betty is equally manly and straightforward,
although written with a degree of heat which, perhaps, under the cir-
cumstances of the case were justifiable, or at least excusable. After
deprecating the interference of the sectaries between master and servant,
he says, " I certainly did confine Henry Williams in the St. Thomas-in-
the-Vale workhouse, for disobedience of my orders, in fact, openly setting
me at defiance before the rest of the slaves. I had an undoubted right to
do so, and I do not consider myself responsible for that act. That he
became sick there, and that I removed him, is equally certain ; and had
he died there, these canting hypocrites would have reproached me with
having been the cause of his death, although an able medical person
regularly attends the establishment. Twenty-three years' experience,
and the visible alteration in the manners and habits of the slaves teach
me," says he, " that these dissenting preachers will inevitably bring the
country to ruin ; especially if their most improbable calumnies are cou?t-
tenanced by the highest authorities in the State."

He states, as a proof of the mildness of his treatment of the slaves,
that in every property under his management, the numbers have in-
creased ; and, finally, he indignantly adds, " Conscious that I have done
nothing deserving of reproach, I am ready to meet any charge which
may be preferred against me in a court of justice, where my actions will
be investigated before a legal tribunal of twelve honest men ; but with all
the deference I feel for the Colonial-office, I never will consent to answer
interrogatories." — A resolution which appears to have given great offence
in Downing-street !

These communications from the Earl of Belmore were followed by a
very long letter from Lord Goderich, who had now become Colonial
Secretary. We have read over that letter most attentively, and we
profess ourselves totally unable to discover any thing like that liber-
ality and fair consideration, and support, to which Mr. Betty, as a

M.M. New Series. VOL. XL— No. 62. 2 B

18G Evil Consequences of Sectarian Influence in Colonial Affairs. Q FEB.

magistrate, and the Rev. MY. Bridges, as a clergyman of the Church of
England,, were, injustice, entitled to expect under all the circumstances:
on the contrary, the letter evinces a captious disposition to consider
them guilty, to bear them down by the weight of authority, and to
involve them in the trouble and obloquy of further discussion. In short,
we do not think Dr. Townley himself, the organ of the Wesley ans,
could have written a letter calculated to give a stronger impression
of undue bias in favour of the sectaries ! " With the most conclusive
moral evidence," says his lordship, "he (Whitehouse) might be defeated,
if his witnesses were slaves," (a matter likely enough, if the facts are
as we believe them to be !) "or in the humble condition of life to
which he belongs, Mr. Whitehouse may not have the funds necessary
for conducting a prosecution." — A gratuitous supposition, especially
Considering that Whitehouse would have had the support of ample
funds at the disposal of the Wesleyan methodists ! !

In short, Mr. Whitehouse refused to attempt to establish his charge,
upon oath, or otherwise ; and, in reply to his letter declining to proceed,
the governor's secretary tells him, " You had two courses to pursue,
had you been able to substantiate your charge against Mr. Betty. One
would have been by referring the case to a council of protection, for
which you might have called all your witnesses, and their attendance
would have been enforced by the magistracy. This course you did not
think proper to adopt, and it is now too late to resort to it ; and the
other, by placing documentary evidence in the Crown-office. But you
cannot be ignorant, that it is not in the Attorney-General's power to
adopt any criminal proceeding, unless the charge is preferred upon
oath." This letter is followed by another explanatory one from White-
house, and the correspondence is closed by Lord Goderich's letter to the
Earl of Belmore; the character of which is, in our opinion, much of the
same complexion as the former one ; inasmuch as it evinces a very
unfair disposition to consider one party guilty and another innocent,
although the charge rested entirely upon the ipse dixit of a man who
had, at the same time, made several distinct charges against another
gentleman, which charges, according to the letter of the Attorney-
General, appear to have been malicious and entirely unfounded. In the
interim Mr. Betty died, and, of course, all proceedings have been
dropped.

We are sorry this parliamentary document will go out to the colonies ;
for we are satisfied it is only calculated to inflame the minds of the
colonists, and to destroy all confidence or cordiality of co-operatiori
with his Majesty's present colonial minister.

The unfounded accusations brought by Whitehouse, have in the mean-
time, however, answered every purpose of the sectaries. They have
been trumpeted fortli at every anti-slavery meeting throughout the
country, as undoubted facts. They have served as the groundwork for
declamation, and for raising up those numerous petitions for the destruc-
tion of West India property, which have been poured upon the tables of
both Houses of Parliament, from the sectaries in all parts of the kingdom ;
and now that the mischief is done, and after the parties accused,
although innocent (for it is but fair to suppose, under all the circumstances,
that Mr. Betty was so}, have been held forth to public execration in
every quarter of the United Kingdom — forth comes the refutation ! !

Further comment seems unnecessary : we leave it to our readers to
draw their own conclusions.

1831.] [ 167 ]

MACHINERY.

THE economists seem at their last gasp — glaring, staring facts are
driving them to their wits' end, and in the extremity of despair, they
have issued, under the high and mighty sanction of the Diffusion-Society,
a manifesto, declaratory of the blessings, the irresistible, the illimitable,
the universal blessings of machinery. Seizing upon a few favourable
circumstances — upon advantages which, undoubtedly, flow readily
enough towards those who can command them — in spite of every hour's
experience, they insist that the diffusion reaches every class of society,
and every soul partakes of them ; that because a few are benefited, all
must be ; because the man with money gets more for it, the man who
has none does as much because articles are cheaper, they must be to
every body more accessible ; because machinery once made more work,
it must still make more and more. Rags, hungry faces, and empty
pockets are not worth remarking amidst the splendour, and sleekness,
and abundance of aristocratic prosperity.

The great wants to the labouring man are of course good wages —
which implies plenty of work, if plenty of work does not imply good
wages — and low prices. The society tells them machinery universally
lessens the cost of production and augments the demand for labour.
These are the very things the labourer desires ; but he finds the promise
is not made good — it " palters with him in a double sense" — his expe-
rience contradicts the assurance. As machinery has advanced, his
wages, at least of late years, have regularly fallen; the cost of produc-
tion may have lowered, but his wages have lowered more ; if labour in
some instances has been more abundant, it has universally been worse
paid ; generally, where he works more, he earns less, and his command
over the conveniences and even the necessaries of life is incomparably
less than before.

If the blessings were really such as the economist holds out to the
labourer, is it not singular that he, the labourer, should not himself
find it out? Is it not incredible that the philosopher in his studio
should be the first to discover what fails to strike conviction upon the
man himself, in matters too which must come most home to him ? If
the labourer suffers, no words will blunt the edge of his feelings, or
reverse his convictions — it must be idle to tell him, in the teeth of his
own knowledge, his situation, upon the whole, as to the conveniences of
life, is vastly amended ; and if it were indeed so amended, nobody,
he must feel, would think it worth his while to urge upon him so
plain a fact. This anxiety, therefore, on the part of the fe school-
masters/' is good evidence on the face of it, not merely of their own
misgivings, but of absolute consciousness of mistake, while their per-
severence in wrong is only a proof of a common resolution to go to
the stake, and die in the profession of the pure economical faith.

The attempt then to control the convictions of the labourer in what
he must be the best judge of, is idle or superfluous. He will be influenced
by facts, and not by theories. It will not be any mitigation of his suf-
ferings to learn that the rich revel at his cost, nor will he require
sympathy or relief if he can live in tolerable comfort by the labour of
his own hands.

But our business just now is more with the rich, or rather with the
economists, who have been their teachers, and well represent the senti-

2 B 2

168 Machinery.

ments of the aptest of their pupils. We quarrel with the economists,
in the first place, because they attempt to identify the workings of
artificial society with the laws of nature, and represent what is essen-
tially changeable, and has been changed a thousand times by the
caprices of rulers, as the inevitable results of uncontrolable circum-
stances. Capital is power, and those who have it will use it to their
own advantage, and those who have it not must submit to its dominion.
This is the very shibboleth of the party. The labourer, in the eyes
of the economists, is only a more dexterous animal than a horse, or a
machine of blood and bone less manageable than one of wood and iron,
and it is the interest of the employer to make the most, at the least
cost, of his or its qualities. When he has exhausted them he has done
with him, and he is only prevented by certain restraints, which he has
not yet been able to throw off, from shooting him out of the way, as he
does any other worn-out and useless brute.

Most of these economists, nevertheless, are constitutionalists in
politics — a party which profess to consider all as free, and all as pos-
sessing an interest in the welfare and government of the society of
which they form a part. But in reality they are as tyrannical at the
bottom, and as resolved, as the most impudent of the opposite faction,
to sacrifice the interests of the governed to those of the governors.
Government with them, indeed, is an institution not merely for the
protection of a man's own, but of all he can, by possibility, make his
own. His own is something so sacred and divine, that the common
good of society must not touch it; must not, in the slightest degree,
interfere with it ; must not check his enlargement of it to the most
pernicious extension. And in fact the overgrown possessions and power
of ten or twelve individuals already are capable of controlling the
government, and resisting regulations, which the mass of society re-
cognize as generally desirable.

We quarrel, again, with the economists, because on the ground of
the early and partial advantages of machinery, they represent them as
illimitable and universal. Machinery ministers to the wants of men,
and they are illimitable, and every man has them. But what then —
what is this to the purpose, if the results of this machinery are inac-
cessible ? if the means of attaining them do not grow with them ? But
they do grow with them, exclaims the economist j if an article becomes
cheaper, the difference in the price is thus set at liberty, and is avail-
able for other and new purchases. No, no ; do you not see that this
advantage is applicable only in the cases of those who have fixed re-
sources ? Is it not a well-known and general fact, that the resources
of the majority diminish, first or last, every where, with diminished
prices ? Are not most men not their own masters, but in the employ-
ment of others ? And in proportion as the prices of provisions and
conveniences fall, are not wages and emoluments reduced ? If so, and
who will controvert it ? the power of purchase, in all dependents, is
also proportionally diminished. Are we not even now endeavouring to
get the salaries of public functionaries cut down, precisely on the ground
that they were raised because prices rose, and ought to be lowered
again, because those same prices have fallen ? The fact, indisputably,
is that the diminished cost of production — the boasted result, and in
some instances justly so, of machinery — benefits only those who have
fixed incomes, or those who can resist encroachments and invasions on

1831.] Machinery. 169

their resources, or indemnify themselves from other quarters. It is
the great, and the great only — the commanding and employing portion
of society, who are essentially benefited by the diminished cost of pro-
duction. And this is the great cause of the gross and growing inequa-
lities in the extreme class of society ; it is the main and predominating
cause that is daily widening the space between the great and the little ;
the great source of their irrectncileable interests and of alienated feel-
ings ; of haughtiness on the one hand and exasperation on the other,
and which, if not timely prevented by some relaxation of power, must
terminate in struggle and violence.

How does the economist account for the productions of his machinery
becoming comparatively every day more and more, drugs ? How is it,
in his opinion, that, cheap as they are, they cannot find purchasers ?
Oh ! he cries, it is merely a temporary suspension of activity in the
market. There have always been these little interruptions ; they are
of short duration, and experience shews a re-action will soon take place,
and make up, and more, for all. Doubtless, there have been periods of
glut and consequent distress, and they have ceased ; — but have they not
been followed, along with renewals of what has been called prosperity,
almost uniformly by diminished wages to the labourer ? Nor is there
any reason, notwithstanding the most confident assertions as to the prin-
ciples and progress of civilization, that it should be otherwise. People's
means do not, for the most part, grow with the occasion, but are governed
by the interests of employers. Nor need they so grow, breaks in the
economist, because machinery reduces the " cost of production." Well,
but people's means do not even continue stationary, and that at least is
indispensable for enabling them to share in the beneficial results of ma-
chinery— verily, they obviously fall in proportion, and that must surely
prove a check to consumption. In short, the commanding portion alone
of society can in the long-run benefit, and be the purchasers, and they
are too few in numbers, with all their capacities, to promise any long
continuance to the reign of machinery. Indeed, when goods begin to
sell below the cost price, that reign is all but at an end. But there is the
whole world for extending the market. There is not the whole world.
Europe and America are manufacturing for themselves ; they will soon
supply their own wants ; they will soon be — in many instances they
already are— rivals in the same market. Then how, in the teeth of these
facts, can the economists, as the unqualified eulogists of machinery,
maintain, that if machinery were to go on for five hundred years, at the
rate it has done for the last century, it could be productive of no possible
harm ?

There is a point, we doubt not, up to which machinery is productive
of general and permanent good ; but that point, with our institutions,
has been passed over some considerable time. To make machinery a
blessing to the country, all must partake of the good results. How can
men, with hearts in their bosoms, seethe few in luxury, and the many in
beggary, and talk, at the same moment, of prosperity, and the happy
and glorious effects of machinery ? What blessing can it be, if stockings
are two-thirds cheaper than they were, if the makers of them do not get
one-third of their former wages ? What advantage is it to them, that
cottons and woollens are cheaper, if the price of bread swallows all their
wages, and meat is utterly inaccessible? For years now, none of our
manufactures — cried up as they have been — have paid wages sufficient to

170 Machinery. [FEB.

krcp up the health and strength of the labourer: nor is there a shadow
of probability to expect matters will mend. The very masters complain
they cannot get remunerating prices — no adequate return upon their
capitals, with all their pinching and screwing of the workmen. This,
however, only means that they can no longer get so large a return ; but
that is* surely an indication that they have overdone the thing — have
gone beyond the mark.

In the midst of our gloomy view of these matters, here, however,
springs up a ray of cheering light. In proportion as great capitals fail
of producing great returns, will the owners of them be prompted to with-
draw from the conflict, and then the sovereignty of machinery drops the
sceptre. It is great capitals that have done the mischief — yes, mischief
we repeat, in spite of contemptuous smiles; — without enormous capitals,
machinery could never have spread to the pernicious extent it has done,
nor could monopoly have scourged the nation so unmercifully.

But the only direct remedy is legal restriction ; — and what is a govern-
ment for, but to prevent, or restrain, one class from injuring another?
Do not we English folks, especially, glory in a constitution made, as
every body says, for the common good ? Well, then, when one class is
getting every thing to itself, and another losing its all — is it not a time
for this superintending government to step in with the exercise of its
delegated functions ? But you interfere with freedom! Whose freedom ?
That of the capitalists. What freedom ? That of grinding the poor ;
and should not such freedom be interfered with ? There is interference
enough, Heaven knows, on the part of this Government, with our
pockets to raise a revenue for extravagant and profligate purposes ; and
shall there be no interference for the just purpose of rescuing a whole
class, and one which outnumbers all the rest, from unparalleled misery
and unprovoked oppression ?

What would we do then ? Would we interpose with acts of legis-
lation ? To be sure we would. Are we of the British isles so new to
acts of legislation, that we should startle at any fresh application of
them ? Is there any thing the legislature does not, at times, take under
its direction ? Is there any institution, however venerable, however old
or young, that has not of late been interfered with ? Any principle,
however respected of old, that has not been handled with authority, or
treated with contempt ? The will of one party has trampled upon the
acts of another ; and shall not a legislature chosen for common interests,
interpose to check tyranny, and protect its victims ? Would we then
break up machinery, and do that for which we have just been hanging
we know not how many ? No, we have another remedy — apparently a
favourite one for a century past — taxation. Taxation on machinery, and
a minimum of wages — Oh ! oh ! this is breaking in upon all the best
recognised principles of government — upon what are the best and
brightest proofs of intellectual advancement in modern times ! That
we cannot help. The existing circumstances of society compel us to break
in upon them. They may once have been good — they are so no longer.
Expediency is the test ; and that has, since the world stood, varied with
circumstances. Have the economists themselves any principle more fixed
and permanent ? They have advocated freedom of trade on the ground
of expediency — but in whose favour ? The capitalists, and the capital-
ists only. But in whose favour, they will reply, do we advocate
restriction ? The workmen, and the workmen only, do we not ? — and

1831.] Machinery. 171

that to the sacrifice of the capitalists ? No : we only check the capitalist.
He will go on no longer than while he makes some gain, and we only force
him while he goes on — he can quit the field when he pleases — to assign
a reasonable share to the man without whom he can gain nothing. He
is at liberty to withdraw his capital when he likes. Well, but he will
withdraw it speedily, and then what becomes of the labourer ? He will
be thrown upon society — upon the poor's rate ; and the capitalist, in his
capacity of householder, must help to support him. But England will
not be worth living in — then let the capitalist leave it. Better he leave
it who has something to take with him, than he who has nothing.

But, after all, we do not think there is yet a peremptory occasion for
having recourse to this act of expediency, which, however, if the same
career is persisted in, will, doubtless, finally become imperative. There
is yet the land, and the relief which the owners of that land can command.
The great mass of agricultural labourers are in as miserable — as oppressed
a condition, and perhaps more so — than the manufacturing. What is the
immediate cause of this? Diminished wages. What the cause of that ?
High rents. And what of that ? The exactions of landlords. Well
then, if the landlord exacted less, could the farmer pay his labourers
more ? Certainly, and the landlord would soon force him, or renew his
old exactions. But the case is this— the landlord exacts from the tenant
a rack rent, and in return, gives up the labourer to the tender mercies of
the tenant. And what then ? The labourer has no longer any one to
appeal to, because the landlord has sunk into a grasping trader, and has
parted with his best rights — the right of protection. The farmer, thus
freed from restraint, reduces wages below the lowest necessaries of life,
and throws the labourer upon the parish, for the miserable remainder,
and thus also forces others, who have no interest in the labour, to help
him to pay his exorbitant rents. Landlords are making a grand parad-
ing, and get the facts blazoned in the papers, if they reduce their rents
ten per cent ; whereas, in many cases, a reduction of a hundred per cent,
would not bring their rents to what they were, forty years ago. It is
true, that landlords have ennobled their style of living vastly within
that period, and cannot, upon old rents; maintain the new scale of ex-
pence ; — it is true also, that the farmer, imitating, often at no humble
distance, the magnificence of his landlord, has done the same thing, and
is still less able, at present rents and prices, to keep up his rate of expen-
diture— but is all this show and finery, all this ambition and extrava-
gance to be supported at the cost and sacrifice of the miserable labourer?
No, no — this is not to be tolerated longer. If a sense of common jus-
tice will not alter matters — violence, we may be sure, will.

The relief of the country is wholly in the hands, and within the power
of the landlords— the relief not only of the agricultural, but also of the
manufacturing labourer. And why do we say all is in their hands ?
Because the condition of the farm- labourer is directly under their con-
trol, and if his condition be once brought back to the state it has been
in, and to which, in common humanity, it should with all speed be
brought, an improvement in the condition of the manufacturing labour-
er must immediately follow ; for the agricultural labourer will thus be-
come again a purchaser of manufactures, and the workman in his turn,
by the consequent advance of his wages, become also a fellow-con-
sumer of the labours of his own hands — and that at present he is not.
Exportation abroad, till lately, was greatly inferior to home-consump-

172 Machinery. £FEB.

tion — the best market— and would,- with this change, quickly be so
again.

This is our resource, and these our anticipations of its effects. But we
have no notion there is virtue enough in the country to work with full
efficiency to the extent such a remedy demands. The landlord clings per-
tinaciously to his seeming advantages. His friends, the economists, lend
him their sophistry. They tell him, emigration is the proper relief for
the country. There are too many poor — ship them off to the Antipodes
or to the Poles — no matter where — and things may go on as before.
No unwelcome changes need be thought of. The landlord of course —
not caring one straw, as he has long ceased to do, about the welfare of
those who were once regarded as his dependants — a dependency that
bound the parties together, and kept alive a great deal of good feeling —
of course, he hails with delight a scheme which is calculated to remove
a painful sight, (it must be such) and not encroach upon his rents. Mr.
Wilmot Horton, in prosecution of the same object, is lecturing the me-
chanics— not the country labourer — upon the charms of emigration, and
has also, his friends state, great success in his wranglings with them —
that is, it must be supposed, he reduces them to a tacit, or even a verbal
acquiescence. He argues them down, which of course a man of any
cultivation may do without difficulty, but we do not find that his hearers
are at all more disposed to push his plans into practice, than he is him-
self to set the example.

Mr. Horton is an admirer of existing arrangements, and interested in
their continuance. He is himself a landlord, and naturally, in his debates
and discussions with the mechanics, says nothing about the great and
adequate power actually in the hands of landlords, " for the relief of
the country." Taking it for granted that the existing state of things is
essentially good, and that all our difficulties originate in excess of popu-
lation— which is excess of nonsense at most times, as well as in these
times — emigration is precisely the remedy. We give Mr. Horton full
credit for sagacity and consistency ; but for our own parts, we are for
confining emigration to those who are themselves so strenuously recom-
mending it, and certainly not for enforcing it upon others. Let them —
as Canada is so enchanting a spot, notwithstanding its six-months' snows —
by all means enjoy the blessing ; but let those who are at home, and like
home, be permitted to make the best of home.

Besides, if occupying waste lands abroad be so very desirable, why
should it not be equally or nearly so to occupy them at home ? Mr.
Horton's parochial loans would at least be spared, though there is no danger
of such loans, in any event, being raised. But we have no waste lands
to occupy. Nay, are there not, according to Mr. Horton's own reports,
15,000,000 acres, and profitable acres too? — for in the same reports stand
fifteen millions more, designated, in express contradistinction, as unpro-
fitable. Yes, but this waste land is all appropriated — every acre has
its owner. What then? If it be left waste — that is, actually uncultivat-
ed— the extremity of the occasion generates, again, a right of expe-
diency ; and we should not hesitate to recommend the resumption of
this land, in order to divide some of it among the poor who have none,
and are in want, and whom the economists wish to banish to the other side
of the globe — to cultivate wastes. It is as easy to cultivate wastes at
home as abroad.

We repeat it, the power relief is with the landlords themselves,

1831.] Machinery. 193

and will be, till violence wrench it, or wisdom withdraw it from them,
to make something like an equitable distribution. Let them, moreover,
give their tenants an interest in the land, something that deserves the
name of interest — leases — they may be made conditional and equitable—
and tenants will soon again cultivate in a very different style from what
they now do, and employ, we verily believe, little short of double the
labour on the same space. There is nothing like high- farming now-a-
days. Let them, also, reduce the size of farms ; for adequate capitals
for small farms may far more readily be found than any thing like a
competent capital for a large one. Two or three hundred acres, perhaps,
should be the very maximum — a, size which comes within the grasp of
easy management too, and is useful alike to the tenant, the labourer,
and, ultimately,, to the landlord himself. Let them, also, take the
labourer — who, under heaven, has none else to help him— under his
especial protection, and assign him, in addition to his amended wages,
small patches of land, on which he can spend his own hours, and his
family Contribute their aid. Machinery has stript of their wonted
employment the wives and children of the country labourer, and what
can be done in the way of compensation should in common equity and
humanity be done. Let them, above all, not listen to farmers and agents
in their opposition ; one will tell him, as Cobbett was told at Waltham
Chase in one of his laudable attempts, it will make the labourer "saucy ;"
another, he will demand higher wages; a third, he will only breed more
children. Let them not heed these things, but rather look at the
deplorable state of dependence and misery to which they have suffered
them to be sunk, by abandoning them to the uncontrolled dominion of
their merciless tenants. Wretches ! we once heard one of them boast
of his ability to take the strength of a labourer out of him in three
years, just as he did out of his horses — but what else do the econo-
mists ?

Here is much of the abnormis sapientia, and we are driven to it
by the force of facts, which conflict irresistibly with the dicta of our
pestilent philosophers. They have tak,en their" own imaginations for
realities ; their own maxims for the laws of nature ; Capital is their
idol, and the first duty of their new worship is to develope to their
full extent its hidden -powers in production, while they let distribution
take its own course. It is matter- of entire indifference to them whether
the labourer, the instrument, eat or not, so that he contributes to
produce, and adds to the capital of the employer. They affect to con-
sider the labourer as not coming at all within the pale and protection of
government. Nobody employs a labourer for the sake of the labourer,
but for his own sake — what then has a government to do with the
matter ? Much ; it is not optional with capital to employ labour or
not. To make any thing of capital the owner must employ labour ; in
that employment he may oppress, and the duty of government is to
protect, or what is the good of it ?

The distress of the country, for we must regard the people, p.s a
portion of the country, is immeasurably great. Much of it is the result
of excess of machinery ; much of it arises from pushing erroneous
theories into practice ; much of it from bad exercise of power, and a
worse conception of the best objects of society ; much of it from grasp-
ing passions and unfeeling haughtiness ; — but it is not yet past a quiet
or at least a legal remedy. Let landlords cease to lend a ready ear to

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 62. 2 C

194 Machinery: [FE«.

economists, and they will discover, sud Minerva, that they have only
to retrace their steps for the last forty years ; and if that will not re-
move all grievances, let them, as legislators, lay a firm and strong hand
upon machinery. The country can never be in a safe or a sound state
while the people are in a state of pauperism. Let them return to their
estates and abide there, and abandon the foolish ambition of figuring in
Courts and London drawing-rooms. Let them, finally, provide for their
own families from their own resources, and cease to be grasping for
place, and then they will be ready enough to lend their powerful aid to
check public extravagance by clipping the source of it — taxation. It is
all in their own hands, and high time it is that they should think of the
poor, not vaguely as men like themselves, but as placed by the laws of
eternal Providence, specifically under their protection.

TO A SPIRIT OF THE PAST.

ONCE, and yet once again,
While my full heart beats heavily along1,
Will I to thee awake a gentle strain,

A melancholy song.

For though thou art far away,
Like a bright star in th' enamelled skies,
Still on my soul there gleams one sunny raj,

Whose home is in thine eyes.

And in the silent hour,
When the heart communes with itself alone,
Thy voice falls on my ear with that deep power

That dwells in every tone.

Then, like a magic scene,
Memory recals her treasures of the past ;
Raising the shadows of what once hathibeen,

'Ere life was overcast.

And then, thou true of heart !
I bless thee for the tears that thou hast shed,
When, like a seraph, peace thou didst impart

To the uncomforted.

I bless thee for the wrong,
Thou hast endured for my unworthy sake,
From those who found thy stedfast love too strong,

For pride or power to break.

I bless thee for thy truth,
Thy faith— thy constancy, and gentleness ;
The light that shone upon thy early youth,

Each smile, and each caress.

But more than all, I yet

Must bless thee for thy long-tried love for me—
Bright as the pearl that in its shell is set

In the unfathomable sea ! R. F. W.

1H3J.J [ 195 ]

NOTES OF THK MONTH ON AFFAIRS IN GENERAL.

The Russian manifesto has at length 'been published, and it is as
ferocious a declaration as ever issued from the councils of a despot.
The Czar threatens vengeance of all kinds ; but there may be a long
interval between the threat and the power to execute it. His force is
immense, and probably the Poles will not be able to meet him in the
field; but an united people has been often shewn to be a hazardous
antagonist ; and if injuries could make a nation united, what people can
have a larger or gloomier retrospect than the unfortunate Poles ? There
have been no fewer than three partitions of Poland. The first was in
1772, when a small portion of her territory only was taken. The next
in 1793, and the final partition in 17^5, which was not, however, accom-
plished until after the infliction of the most inhuman atrocities on the
part of the Russian army, under Suwarrow. In 1815 the allies erected a
portion of the territory, of which Warsaw was made the capital, into a
nominal kingdom, under the sovereignty of Russia. The independence
thus pretended to be given was, in every sense, illusory. What could be
the independence of Poland, when it was merely a Russian viceroyalty,
a place where such a fellow as the Archduke Constantine was left to play
his furious vagaries ? We have lately seen an account of this Tartar's
ordering, at a moment's notice, every person newly arrived in Warsaw
to be summoned from his bed at four in the morning, in November, and,
no matter what their country or condition, their health or their merits
might be, all marched side by side, gentlemen and criminals, merchants
and deserters — side by side through the streets in the depth of a Polish
winter ! — to the antichamber of this man, there to be asked half a dozen
insolent questions, and then turned out ; some with ridicule, some with
orders to leave the realm within twenty-four hours, and some sent under
arrest. And who can wonder that any nation, with the hearts of men
in their bosoms, should be indignant at these furious caprices, and long
for security of person and property ?

So far as public privileges are concerned, the Poles have been sub-
jected to the treatment of an enslaved people. The public voice has,
upon all occasions, been stifled — in the senate, in the theatres, and at
every place of public congregation, this course has been pursued. From
Alexander they received a constitution, the provisions of which they
were not allowed, however, to put in force. Thus, dispossessed of the
substance of liberty, the shadow only remained, to perplex and embit-
ter the national feelings. As serfs and bond-slaves, they would have
been happier.

Some of our contemporaries are predicting that France will subside
into quietness, and be a model of good government, and so forth. On
this point we are thoroughly sceptical. The matter may go on plausibly
for awhile ; but there are circumstances in the French position, which,
by the course of nature, must make France revolutionary in a few
years.

In the first place, whatever religion the people had, is gone. Even
the feeble display of it that was to be found among the gewgaw-exhi-
bitions of popery, is gone. The religion of the state is abolished. The
government are no longer pledged to provide any worship for the people;
and now every man may worship any whim that comes into his head in

2 C 2

106 Soles of I he Monfh on C^K*?.

nny way he likes, and be discharged from any support of any regular
place of worship. Of course, in a few years the buildings for national
worship must go to decay ; and if a few spruce chapels be raised by a
few speculators or devotees, they will not contain a thousandth part of
the population, even if they were willing to go to church, which they
will not be. In a few years, the young generation will start into man-
hood ; and as they have been educated without the decent habits of
religious observance, they will not begin to learn them then. Even for
the last ten years,, scarcely any MEN went to church : the seats were occu-
pied by women, and the men went whistling about the streets, or went
to their regular weekly labours, on the Sunday. The preachers sent by
the government through the provinces to recal the peasantry to their
former habits, were generally a mere matter of scoffing and insult,
though many of the " missionaries/' as they were termed, were able
men, and some, of singular eloquence. In the course of a few years, if
those feelings continue, France will be a nation of atheists, which, by
all accounts, it very nearly is already ; and as the atheist acknowledges
no restraint of conscience, and can have no fear of a superior power, or
of a future, the only question will be of force against force : in other
words, civil war, terminating in convulsions of all kinds.

Another source of the impending ruin is, the state of property. In
France the law of primogeniture is abolished, and every man is com-
pelled to give an equal portion of his property to each of his children.
By this means, the disobedient child is just as much encouraged as the
obedient. And, as the money laid out on a child's education, or advanced
for putting him into any peculiar line of life, professional or otherwise,
is not allowed in the distribution of the property, but each demands his
equal portion still, it is almost the interest of a parent to give his
children no education or employment that can cost any thing, as it is
giving him his portion twice over. But the evil operates inevitably in a
national scale, by utterly destroying all the higher order of France.
In England, by giving the estate to the elder son, that estate is kept
together; an aristocracy is formed, by which the peerage is supplied,
and a most important branch of the legislature, as a protection between
the power of the crown, and the rashness of a merely popular assembly,
is kept in existence.

But even to the younger children of the peer, the existence of a
certain rank and estate in the family, is of the first importance. By
having a brother a man of acknowledged rank, the whole family share
his distinction in society ; they are also supported in their several pur-
suits by his influence ; and they make more honourable connections ;
and, as in general, the estate is liable to pass from one branch to another,
the youngest brother of a great family has his chance of attaining the
hereditary honours. Thus the great families are preserved from being
lost, by the preservation of their properties under one head ; and the
estate which, frittered away among a dozen children, would make for
each but a pitiful provision — perhaps just enough to keep them in idle-
ness, and thereby preclude them from any honourable exertion — becomes
a source of present rank and assistance to. every member of the family,
and frequently of future possession.

But, in France, all the great families must, before a quarter of a cen-
tury, be extinguished, if the present law continues. A duke with but
£1,500 a-year, is no duke at oil, but a beggar; and if he expects to

1831.] Affairs in General. 197

enjoy even his £1,500 a-year, he had better lay down his title. And, in
Diet, all the nobility of France are thus perishing as fast as they can. It
happens, oddly enough, that no nobility of Europe have so few children
as the French; a second child being no common instance in the higher
ranks ; and thus, by the interdict of nature, the evil of the law may be
restrained for a while. But the evil will finally overcome. Even now,
all the residences of the nobles in the country are falling into ruin. The
proprietors are too poor to live in them, or to repair them, and they fall.
In another generation this subdivision will go on, and still proceed until
every acre is cut into fragments for younger children ; and France, with
increasing multitudes, will shew but a great mob, a nation of paupers ;
and of course discontented with all order, and mad for change.

But the disturbance is not likely to wait even for this. The French
themselves tell us that Paris teems with disaffection, -which marshals
itself under five different banners. The old royalist, the old jacobin,
the Buonapartist, the idealist, the polytechnic and school party. It is
true, that out of this multitude of parties may proceed the security of
government; which would doubtless be more endangered by one strong
coalition. Still, here is the material of mischief to any extent, and there
is nothing in the character of France to resist the mischief in any shape
that it may assume. There is no peerage of any weight whatever, there
is no established religion, and there is no force at the direct command of
government • for it would be a burlesque to call the present French king
the master of any thing, either military or civil ; his dominion is during
pleasure, and his kingdom is the Palais Royal.

Lawyers are famed for making good bargains for themselves. Old
Lord Nor bury a year or two since, worn out in office, contrived to make
the most of his remaining years after 80 ! by bargaining for a huge re-
tiring allowance and an earldom, he having obtained a peerage before
for his wife, which descended to his second son ; thus having obtained in
fact two peerages for his family. We now have another Irish lawyer
contriving to escape from the labours of office on nearly the same terms.
O'Grady, the Irish Chief Baron gets a viscounty and barony on his re-
tirement, an honour rarely conferred on an individual in similar, circum-
stances. He is to be Viscount Cahirguillimore and Baron Rockbarton.
The first will be as great a puzzler to the Herald's College to pronounce
as was that of Lord Skelmersdale, who, on his elevation to that title, was
said to have absolved his godfathers of the original name given him of
Bootle Wilbraham. The barbarian name of Cahirguillimore, if he have
been foolish enough to take it, may also absolve Mr. O'Grady of some of
the merit of his bargain. Yet the public have a right to ask, for what
eminent public services is this lawyer to have a viscounty and barony,
and a pension of £3,500 a-year besides ? he having already received
about £150,000 ! He was probably well acquainted with his profession ;
and if he were, he was paid for his knowledge by a huge salary of
£6,000 a-year (besides other emoluments) ; which any other man at the
bar would have considered an equivalent for all his law and labours.
Why then heap on him the supernumerary reward of the peerage,
which, we must observe, not merely gives the man himself an. undue
elevation, but lifts up his descendants, who may not have the slightest
of his merits, and who certainly are not likely to render any professional
service ? The point is, what could have made it necessary to prompt l^y

198 Notes of the Monlh on [FEB.

a peerage the retirement of a judge, who was reported to have been
calling ont for retirement before ; or who, if he were not calling out,
ought to have been left to do his duty, until he had arrived at the period
when he would have retired of his own accord ? If the business was hur-
ried on to find a bench for some partizan, the ground is changed, but the
difficulty is not. However, there is one fact, that no reason exists for
making so many lawyers peers ; they are generally bad " parliament
men," from their previous habits, and seldom add anything to the wis-
dom or eloquence of the House. Lawyers, with but few exceptions,
make an unlucky figure in debate. And, unless in individual instances
of peculiar moral dignity, they generally exhibit themselves the slaves
of party, which means personal interest ; the whole proposition meaning,
that lawyers are in the best place, when they are attending to their own
profession, and that they are fitter for advocates than for legislators ;
that their integrity on the bench ought not to be exposed to the tempta-
tion of a minister with a peerage in his hand : and, in conclusion, that
Chief Baron O'Grady has established no more claim to a peerage, how-
ever barbarous its name, by receiving £6,000 a-year as a judge for twenty
years, than if he had sat on his bench for six minutes, and then vacated
it to give rest to the fluctuations of Lord Plunkett.

Fortunate lord, the latter has been. His chancellorship has anchored
him at last secure in the harbour of partizanship. His compatriots
lately calculated his provision for himself and his family out of the pub-
lic purse, at £J 6,000 a-year. His new office swells the united price of
his genius to £20,000 ! Who shall reproach the country with neglecting
great men, or great men with neglecting themselves ?

As astronomers, we were delighted with the following intelligence :
" Eclipses in 1831. — During the present year there will be four eclipses,
viz., two of the sun and two of the moon. Those of the former occur on Febru-
ary 12 and August 7, and will be invisible at Greenwich; and of the latter on
February 26 (partly visible) and on August 23, which will be invisible.

Here, for our good, we are informed of the coming of three eclipses which
we are not to see at all ; a piece of knowledge, which thus seems of no great
productiveness. But the fourth eclipse is to be partly visible ; that is,
we are partly to see it, and partly to see it not ; a species of optics which
does not come within our science, but which we abandon to the Sir
Janies Souths and other new illuminators of our darkened age.

" Amelia Opie is at Paris, and a constant visitor at the soirees of General
Lafayette, where this celebrated female always appears in the simple garb of a
rigid Quak' ress, forming a striking contrast to the gay attire of the Parisian
ladies."

Poor Amelia, worshipping at the shrine of revolution ; past her grand
climacteric, and lowering the drab to the tri-colour, the dove-coloured
poke to the bonnet-rouge. But Genlis is dead, and the world solicits a
successor.

" For a few days past an omnibus has been seen at Paris, on the Boule-
vards, between the Porte St. Martin and the Madelaine, suspended on a new
principle. It is much lighter arid more elegant than the former ones, and the
great advantage of it is that the carriage has no disagreeable motion, and the
passengers ride at perfect ease."

All this may be so in Paris, though we entirely disbelieve it. But

1831.] A fairs in General. 199

no part of it exists in London, -where all the names of inconvenience
are tame to the annoyance of the omnibus, as all the names of insolence
are weak to the habits of the fellows that attend them. Oi' course,
there are some better than others ; and where the proprietor himself
takes any trouble about the matter, they may be more endurable. But
there was some promise last session, of a change in the whole stage-
coach system. What has become of it ? We were to have had stages
running in all directions through the streets., and thereby undoubtedly
adding greatly to the ease and quickness of passing the enormous dis-
tances of London. But all this seems to have died away. We call
upon Lord Althorp to tell us, why ?

Will " flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death ?" We answer, that
the times when such things were done are with the years beyond the
flood. Flattery is too valuable a thing to be thrown away ; and we send
those who doubt our assertion to the histories of all " eminent person-
ages/' lately deceased. The disembowelling by the surgeons is only a
feeble type of the keen ransacking of every part of their existence the
moment that they are fairly out of sight, and gone where they can take
no actions of battery. Friends, relations, loving acquaintances, all the
world, and the newspapers besides, pounce upon them before an hour
lies between them and the sunshine; and they are torn, dissected, extra-
vasated, and epigrammatized into a thousand pieces, before even the
Magazines can make a grasp at the remains of their reputation.

But, in some cases, the operation commences before the " brains are
out," and the reputation is flayed from the living subject. How would
the French Ministers, even so lately as the memorable 27th of July, be
astonished to find the knife employed on their physiognomies in this
style ?—

f( Appearance of the Ministers on their trial. — De Polignac, who is very far
from corpulent, is rather above the middle stature, has a great nose, and a
bloodless, disagreeable countenance. He has a very low forehead, an expres-
sion of insignificance, and, even when he looks most gracious, his manner is
by no means pleasing. He cordially accosted De Martignac while the trial
was proceeding — De Martignac, whom he formerly denounced to Charles X.
as an ' apostate.' He is entirely wrapped up in his own case, and in that of
his party, and if his life be spared, will deem himself happy."

With what astonishment would a premier in any land find his portrait
drawn in that style ! — unless he should have found some balm to his
feelings in seeing his fellow-minister excoriated in this style : —

The appearance of De Chantelauze is most unprepossessing. He gives
one the idea of a short, ill-favoured, diseased, petty tradesman, and is attired
in black."

The French Attorney- General, however, is treated a little more ten-
derly. The terrors of office protect him still : —

" De Peyronnet has a plump visage, is inclined to corpulency, is rather
pale, almost bald, and takes much snuff. He is thought to resemble the late
Mr. Huskisson in manner."

Guernon de Ranville — a nobody — escapes with the observation due to
that marked personage : —

tc He looks young', slender, and seems much frightened !"

200 Soies of Ike Month on [FEB.

They are all now quietly transferred to the castle of Ham, in Picardy,
where, by the last accounts, they had began to talk politics, hold cabinet
councils on their own blunders, and quarrel so fiercely, that at length
they could agree only in a petition to be sent to separate prisons !

Some of our papers mention, that if Prince Polignac, senior, is uncom-
fortable, his family contrive at least to make themselves happy ; and
quote the instance of his son, who, a few evenings ago, distinguished
himself as a performer of the waltz, at some West-end rout. But as all
Frenchmen are philosophers by nature, why — as the papers observe —
should not a son dance when a father is in prison for life ?

It may sound very well for Mr. Herries to start up for the royal rights
in the Pension List; but all men know that the royal rights were
untouched, and that the " ministerial patronage" was the true reading.
We cannot help agreeing with the language of an intelligent contem-
porary : —

" Let no meritorious servant of the State be deprived of what he had a
right to expect would solace his latter days ; but, on the other hand, let no
undeserved pension be held sacred, because some pretty lady, or convenient
sycophant, may have in its confidence a ' vested interest.' It has been urged
that not to respect pensions which have already been granted, will distress
individuals. This may be matter of regret ; but while the public at large
lament the pressure of the times, why should not those, who have too long
enjoyed affluence, to which they had no just claim, suffer with the rest? All
we call for is, that the. grants which have .been made shall be explained and
vindicated. Mrs. Arbuthnot can have no objection to let it be known what are
the services which she has rendered to the State, in the cabinet or the field, to
entitle her to more than £900. per annum ; and Mr. W. Dundas will, of course,
be delighted to prove that his a mall pension of £4,500. a year is far from being-
a sufficient reward for merit like his. Then the female Bathursts can favour
us with the grounds on which they claim the several sums which appear
against their names in the Civil List. These ladies, by the way, it has been
stated, are members of the family of Mr. Bragge Bathurst."

But to one pension we have peculiar objections. We now see the
Scotch Lord Advocate receiving a pension of £600. a year for his wife.
The salary of the Lord Advocate is £1,500.; but his emoluments are
£4,000. a year. Yet this man, after receiving the large sum of £5,500.
a year for several years, comes with a petition for £600. a year, or the
alienation of a principal of about £12,000. from the country for his wife !
Why did he not provide for her out of the profits of his highly-lucrative
office ? Or why not out of the regular income of his profession, like
other barristers ? If he had never tasted the sweets of office, he must
have done like the rest of his profession — lived within his means, and
taken care, by due economy, that his family should not come upon the
public. But the very thing which should prevent his degrading them
to this expedient^ becomes the ground of his adopting it ; his receiving
£5,500. for a succession of years, substantiates the pauperism of his ivife,
and his rank entitles him to fix her on the public as in want of public
bounty.

Another pension of some notoriety seems to have escaped the general
purview. Who has not heard of Lady Hester Stanhope? This lady
has had no less than £1,200. a year for at least twenty years — or has
received £24,000. sterling. And to what purpose ? The descriptions
of our travellers represent her as leading a life of the most singular arid

•

1831.] Affairs in General 201

repulsive nature. We do not deal in scandal ; and we, therefore, leave
the details to others. But we have her galloping about Syria in men's
clothes, praising Mahometanism, and indulging in all sorts of extra-
vagant and foolish eccentricities; and this woman's fooleries we are
forced to pamper at the rate of £] ,200. a year ! Infinitely better would
it be for her, if she were compelled by necessity to recollect that she
had other matters to do than indulge in her foreign vanities and Mussul-
man nonsense, and make herself a show and burlesque to strangers.
The instant stoppage of her pension would be the most salutary lesson
that she could get ; and if she wore fewer pairs of Turkish trowsers, or
rode astride on a less imperial stud, she would be only the better for the
restriction. But the whole system must be revised.

It is a curious circumstance that in the Law Establishment, if we may
so call it, of England, which ought to be the defence against all abuses,
there are perhaps more abuses, more licensed and long-standing sources
of public plunder, than in any other department of public administra-
tion. The Commission on the Irish Law Courts and their sinecures, a
few years ago, disclosed abuses of such an inordinate nature, that the
public were in a state of general indignation ; and the prominent pecu-
lations were obliged to undergo some kind of deduction. The state of
the English law sinecures, the great clerkships and reversions, the
Doctors' Commons,, and Testamentary Offices, still affords a fine field for
revision ; and we hope that some member of Parliament will be found
honest and active enough to sift the business to the bottom.

But the Bankrupt Commissioners are now the more immediate griev-
ance. The subject was largely discussed in a late meeting of merchants
and traders, at the London Tavern, for the purpose of bringing some
proposition on the subject before Parliament. Mr. Bousfield observed,
" That, in the first place, though some of the commissioners might be
able men, most of them were unfit, by age, &c. for their offices. — That
their charges were enormous for their work ; the number of bankrupts,
between 1 824 and 1830 inclusive, being averaged at 7^7 a year, while
the sums received by the commissioners, in pay and fees, were £40,000.
a year ! The meeting declared the system to be ruinous to the trader,
as involving both unnecessary expense and loss of time. — That the
bankrupt fees, from 1811 to 1826, amounted to £114,000! and, more-
over, that the fees of the Secretary of Bankrupts, for 1830, amounted
to £10,000. ! — That in nine cases out of ten, the effects of debtors were
swallowed up by law proceedings."

All this argues an intolerable system ; but then we are to recollect that
there are fourteen sets, or " Lists," of Bankrupt Commissioners, amount-
ing to, we believe, about seventy persons, who receive, as the least
salary, £300. a year, to say nothing of the fees. Will this patronage
be given up without a struggle ? We strongly doubt. Well, then,
those who are on the right side must only struggle the more.

In one of the multitude of duodecimo-libraries we find the following
apocryphal story :

"In 1534 Blasco de Garay, a captain of a ship, offered to the Emperor
Charles V. to construct a machine capable of propelling large vessels even in
a calm, and without the aid of sails or oars. In spite of the opposition which
his project met with, the Emperor consented to witness the experiment, and

M.M. New Series— VOL. XI. No. 62. 2 D

202 Notes of Ike Month on [FEB.

it was made accordingly, in the port of Barcelona, on the 17th of June, 1543.
Garay would not uncover his machinery or shew it publicly ; but it was evi-
dent that it consisted of a caldron of boiling water, and of two wheels set in
motion by that means, and applied externally on each side of the' vessel* The
experiment was made on the Trinidad, a ship of 200 tons, laden with corn.
The persons commissioned by the Emperor to report on the invention, in
general approved of it, and praised, in particular, the readiness with which
the vessel tacked about. The treasurer, Ravage, however, who was hostile
to the plan, said, that a ship with the proposed machinery might go at the
rate of about two leagues in three hours ; that the apparatus was complex
and expensive ; and, finally, there was great danger of the boiler bursting.
The other commissioners maintained, that a vessel so equipped might go at
the rate of a league an hour at the least, and would tack about in half the
time required by an ordinary ship. When the exhibition was over, Garay
took away the apparatus from the Trinidad. The woodwork was deposited in
the arsenal at Barcelona : the rest of the machinery he kept himself. Not-
withstanding the objections raised by Ravago, the Emperor affected to favour
the project of Garay ; but his attention at the time was engrossed by other
matters. He promoted Garay, however; gave him a sum of money, besides
paying the expences of the experiment made at Barcelona, and shewed him
other favours."

So much for philosophy in the 16th century ! But how can any body
publish such things as possessing the slightest probability ? Can any
engineer of the present day believe, that steam was ever so applied three
centuries ago ? Or that a vessel of boiling water in those days could
have been applied to move a boat, or anything, or do any thing beyond
washing a shirt, or scalding the philosopher's fingers ?

The Local Law Bill, on which we made some observations in our last
number, continues to excite a great interest among lawyers. The Lord
Chancellor's zeal and experience are on the one side, and the alarms and
experience of the practising members of the profession are on the other.
No?i nostrum est. But we give a remarkably striking and manly letter
from one of the most intelligent individuals of that profession or of any
other, which to us seems to set the question in a clear point of view, and
which must go a great way to decide the controversy. The letter, it
will be seen, was written a short time previously to the Lord Chancellor's
appointment to office.

" To Henry Brougham, Esq., M. P.

" Dear Sir, — I have carefully read and re-read your Local Jurisdiction Bill
and abstract, with a view to draw the account of fees by way of schedule, as
desired. But I have been unable to do so on a scale of any in the least degree
adequate remuneration for any practitioner of liberal education, and desirous
of holding a decent situation and honest character in society.

" Under this aspect, I cannot but consider your measure as calculated to
become the greatest civil scourge ever inflicted on this country, by creating an
indefinite and universal appetite for litigation, with no other break or interval
in the exercise of it than the halcyon month of August. This immediate
effect of the act will be industriously promoted and extended with corres-
ponding energy by an accession to the profession in increased numbers, of that
class of practitioners designated as pettifoggers, whom to discountenance and
extinguish has been a primary object with all the best and leading solicitors
of the present day.

"It appears to me utterly inconsistent with the avowed purposes of the
Common Law Commission, the repeal of the Law Taxes, the appointment of
additional judges, the intended laying open of the Court of Exchequer, and the

1831.] Affairs in General 203

facilities afforded to practice in the superior courts, thus at once to withdraw
from them two-thirds at least of their ordinary business, subjecting it to a
new and experimental tribunal, and superseding much of the labour derived
from the elaborate machinery of Westminster Hall, \yith no compensating
reduction in the expense of working it.

" Although personally, after a drudgery of nearly thirty years, much with-
drawn from active practice, and meditating at no distant day entire secession
from it, I feel too much sense of gratitude, and I hope a laudable esprit da
corps in favour of an employment which has afforded me the means of com-
petence and independence ; to be altogether insensible to the degradation to
which the profession of an attorney will be reduced by the operation of your
proposed new bill, which, 1 repeat, will necessarily bring into action a large
class of low practitioners, who, having no fair means of adequate remunera-
tion, must and will resort to trick, if not to fraud, to supply the deficiency of
profit, no reasonable allowances for which (in keeping with the general pur-
view of the bill) will afford a return for the education, skill, and attention the
conduct of the business of the local courts will require.

" While on this subject, it is with great regret I would allude to the tenor
of your speech, as reported in the Times, on the occasion of your giving notice
of your plan ; you in it assumed a tone of unmeasured contempt for the at-
tornies, imputing to them, in the aggregate, and without exception, gross
ignorance, and the most selfish motives, while you at the same time, in equally
unmeasured terms, lauded the bar as actuated by the highest, noblest, and
most liberal principles, with a possible exception of one in a hundred as not
quite perfect.

ce Both positions, to your knowledge and mine) are equally unfounded ; for
while, as regards one of them, I can name a Frere, a Swain, a.Freshfield, a
Vizard, a Teesdale, an Amory, with scores of others of equal claim to con-
fidence and respect, and a fair promise of succession to them from a large body
of liberally educated and intelligent articled clerks, now deriving improved
instruction from the law-lectures at the University of London, I could, in
contravention of your other position, name scores of barristers influenced by
the most sordid motives, and seeking and promoting multiplication of fees
with the most heartless rapacity.

" If I could for a moment think it possible that the Local Jurisdiction Bill
could pass into a law, in anything like its present shape, I should observe on
the preposterous amount of salary to the judge of £2000 per annum, thus
constituting a valuable object of ministerial patronage and borough influence,
like a Welch judgeship, rather than having the direct view of getting some
useful plodding man for the situation, as is the case in the County Palatine
Court at Preston, where Mr. Addison, for £400 per annum, does as much, and
as well, as can be expected from any county judge.

" The total absence of qualification for the office of registrar is fraught with
liability to abuse ; some son or nephew of the judge will hold it in sinecure ;
and the duties will be performed by the clerk, who will make it pay better
than is in the contemplation of the act.

" The registrar, to give knowledge, experience, and efficiency in the conduct
of the business, ought to be an attorney of at least five years certificated
standing, and strictly debarred from practising directly or indirectly.

"The summary jurisdiction of the judge over the attorneys exceeds that of
the superior jurisdiction ; and the power of mulcting them is an arbitrary
novelty, fraught with the most mischievous consequences of subjection and
oppression, and only of a piece with the whole apparent scheme for degrading
to one uniform standard of low cunning and subserviency the great bulk of
country practitioners.— I remain, dear Sir, £c.— WILLIAJI TOOKE."

" 12, Russet Square, June 23rd, 1830."

The last year has been unusually marked by the deaths of Sovereigns.
Europe has lost George the Fourth"; the King of Naples ; Pope Pius VII.:

2 D 2

204 Notes of the Month on [FEB.

the Grand Duke of Baden ; and the Queen of Portugal. No man
of remarkable science has died in this country but Major Rennel.
Nor do we know of any distinguished scientific deaths on the continent.
Among a crowd of women of rank, none of distinguished beauty or
public merit, have died, and among the leading artists, but one, Law-
rence, the leader of them all.

The well-known Beckford is selling off again. Why, in this life-
writing age, is so capital a subject left without a record? Let the
biographer give but a chapter each to his Italian, his French, and his
Portuguese palaces, and he would make enough even out of those for a
modern quarto. His English career may be reserved for his own pen,
for whose else could do justice to it ? We can scarcely believe that this
extraordinary and eccentric personage has become a house-jobber. But
his buildings and furnishings, and frequent change of place ; and his
regularly recurring sales of books, pictures, and bijouterie of all odd and
costly kinds, greatly favour the idea.

Fonthill was a piece of architectural coxcombry, which, however, he
contrived to turn to the best advantage by the help of as dexterous a
manager of such things as any man in trade, George Robins. It
tumbled down soon after the sale. But the whole affair was only the
more in character. Fantasy was the spirit that presided at its birth, and
fairyland was the region round ; and as something equally out of the
world was the proprietor, it was only natural that the whole should
vanish like a castle in the air.

His next sojourn was at Bath, where he astonished all mankind, in-
cluding the fashionable inhabitants of Lansdowne-crescent, by pur-
chasing two houses, and living in them at once. This, however, he
contrived, though having them at opposite sides of a street, by building
a handsome Italianized corridor, so as to secure an internal communi-
cation between the two houses, and in line with the drawing-rooms : —
one house was devoted to domestic purposes, the cooking being per-
formed in it, and Mr. Beckford resided in the other, so that the smells
of all culinary preparations were cut off from his apartments. This was
the object of having two residences, and the communicating corridor ;
the dinner and other provisions being brought along the passage. Both
houses were furnished in the most splendid style, so much so as to draw
forth the marked admiration of all the Bath connoisseurs in buhl, or
molu, and glittering absurdities of all kinds. Even Prince Leopold's
philosophy was moved by the detail ; and he condescended to acknow-
ledge, that if Mr. Beckford and he gave pretty much the same number
of dinners, which was equivalent to none, the hermit of Bath had the
advantage in meubles, over the hermit of Claremont. But all this finery
is to come to the hammer again ; and we have no doubt that it will
bring in a handsome return.

The owner's next remove is now awaking the queries of Bath again.
Where will he next build his house-to-let ? Where shew off his next
purchase of old cabinets, figured crystals, cracked china, and very odd
books with very odd mottoes in them from the pen of the learned and
curious owner. Bets, to the largest amount allowable among the card-
table ladies, have been laid, that his next journey will be to Pimlico,
there to erect a palace, which shall throw the Nash-building out of all
fame. Others, that he means to go to Constantinople, and offer himself

1831.] Affairs in General. 205

as successor to Sultan Mahmoud. Others, that, having lately taken to
his devotions, he means to go forthwith to Italy, take advantage of the
papal decease, and by a present of his snuff-boxes among the cardinals, win
his way to the papal chair ; while others say, he contemplates residing at
the Saxon Tower built by him on Lansdowne-hill, two miles off, filled
with splendid gewgaws, and commanding extraordinary views of the
surrounding counties. But the furniture, as well as the residence in
Lansdowne-crescent, is also to be sold by auction. Amongst the furni-
ture there are " superb cabinets of black and gold japan; beautiful square
boxes of the richest japan ; a superb and matchless buhl and tortoise-shell
cabinet (formerly belonging to Louis the Fourteenth) ; black and gold
japan screens ; an ebony cabinet ; oa/c book-cases, of amazingly elegant
designs, exquisitely enriched with gold mouldings and ornaments ; im-
mense looking-glasses," &c. &c. The frippery of a sale-room will make
as good a figure in the present auction as the last ; and so we shall have
Mr. Beckford gathering toys, and selling them, to the end of the chapter.

When will the Bourbons be convinced of the truth, that they have
played their last card in France ? that the palace of Holyrood is their
natural dwelling, and that the day is gone by, when a speech or a smile
from royalty could have more effect upon the Parisians, than upon a
regiment of nightmares ? Yet, on the sale of the Duchess of Berri's
books here, lately, a rather undignified transaction too, since the Duchess
is said not to be in pecuniary distress — and the books came over, duty
free — we have the following flourish, worthy of the days of Louis the
Fourteenth.

"It having been stated that the fHenriade/ presented to the Duke of
Bordeaux by the city of Paris, had been sold by the Duchess of Berri, Mr.
Evans, of Pall-Mali, has given the paragraph a strong contradiction. He
says—

" ' No inducement could ever persuade the Duchess to part with this vo-
lume, in her eyes inestimable. She will frequently recommend it to the
perusal of her son, to animate him to imitate the illustrious example of his
great progenitor in bearing adversity with equanimity, and enjoying triumph
with moderation. She would particularly point out to the Duke of Bordeaux
the conduct of Henry IV. after the capture of Paris — a generous oblivion of
political differences.' "

Mr. Evans, of Pali-Mall, is of course, no more the author of this fine
affair than Mr. Alderman Hunter, or any other illustrious author, east
of Temple Bar. The performance is French all over. But if the Due
waits until he takes Paris by siege, we are afraid he will never enjoy the
opportunity of displaying his moderation in triumph. Much the better
study for him is patience in adversity : for he may rely on his never
sitting on the throne of the Gauls.

There must have been some extraordinary mismanagement, or some
extraordinary influence busy in the Sierra Leone matters. The settle-
ment is now announced to be on the point of being dissolved, by order
of ministers. Yet for the last twenty years the loudest outcry on the
mortality, waste, and utter hopelessness of this settlement has been un-
attended to. At length, without any additional facts, and in the teeth
of a declaration of a few months old, the Colony is to be left to the wild
beasts. The recent change of ministers is not sufficient to account for

206 Notes of the Month on [FEB.

this : for the business of Colonies and remote dependencies, is generally
left as it is found; and in the present instance, the principal ministers
have long since exhibited as Sierra Leonists, or protectors of the king-
dom of Macauley, as some of the wits term this sepulchral region.

The Colonists, and the machinery of government, are to be removed
to Fernando Po. But this new empire labours under a bad name
already. One of the papers tells us, with the aid of a comparison,, more
expressive than poetical : —

" Accounts from Fernando Po describe the mortality there to be dreadful.
The removal from Sierra Leone to that island is like jumping out of the
frying-pan into the fire."

By all accounts, there never was a finer spot for terminating all the
crimes and troubles of our criminal and troubled world. There con-
spiracy conspires no more ; but is reconciled to all things within a week,
or, at the farthest, ten days. There ambition burns in no man's breast,
longer than he has time to write his will. There litigation loses its chief
terror, its length — for all the parties are out of court before the proceed-
ings can be indorsed. There war is unheard of, or never flourishes beyond
the first half-dozen drills ; there corn-laws, excisemen, assessed-taxes,
vested interests, and the other plagues of a long-lived community, perplex
no man, but life escapes from the fangs of all, and the dweller of Fer-
nando Po soon defies alike the taxman, the judge, and the jail.

But why, we must ask, unless such settlements are reserved for the
younger sons of nobility, half-pay subalterns of the Guards, or ex-mem-
bers of Parliament, should Fernando Po be settled at all ? Have we
not the West Indies ? The name is enough. The only intelligible
purpose would be the discovery of some entrance into Central Africa, by
some great river. For this, possibly, Fernando Po might be a favour-
able point. But we see no attempt made towards such discovery. From
time to time, some beggarly German, or half-mad Frenchman^or English
rambler, eager for employment at all chances, makes the attempt by land ;
thus setting out alone for a walk of five thousand miles a head, through
countries of savages, epidemics, tigers, slave-traders, and sand as hot as
a baker's oven. He begs his way a few hundred miles, writes a jour-
nal, to tell the world that he has been buffeted, dungeoned, detected in
his mispronunciation of the Moorish, is starved, and is dying. The next
post, in the shape of some grim son of blackness, who had run him
through with his lance, and robbed him of his rescript and rags, comes
to say that he is dead ; and claim the reward for his news. Thus have
gone, and thus will go all the African travellers : all of whom might with
equal profit to the nation, and much more comfortably for themselves,
have jumped off the centre arch of London Bridge, at high water, and
so have gone straight to the mermaids.

But the only discovery worth making would be that of a great river
from the interior to the coast ; and the only mode by which that disco-
very will ever be made, will be by the steam-boat. Of the half dozen
rivers which fall into the great Bay of Benin, how many have been
ever explored by us half a dozen leagues up ? The old Portuguese
mariners talked of having sailed up some of them for slaves 300 miles,
and found them still navigable. The steam-boat would make the trial
swiftly, securely, and effectually. And Africa, brutal and burning as it
is, may be well worth the trial. Its principal region is still altogether

1831.] Affairs in General. 207

vmtraversed by an European foot. We know even the coasts but im-
perfectly, but the centre of this singular Continent is one mighty table-
land,, temperate in its climate, and probably abounding in vegetable and
mineral wealth and wonders.

We may shew what a field is open for discovery, when we state that
this table-land contains not less than two millions and a half of square
geographical miles. It is bordered by immense acclivities, supporting
ranges of mountains, towards the Indian Ocean, the Atlantic, and the
country of Nigritia. With what beds of minerals may not those moun-
tains be expected to abound, when the plains at their feet are the sands
from which a large portion of the gold of Europe is gathered ? Of the
variety of valuable woods, and healing plants, to be found in so vast a
region, we can form a conception only from the prodigality of nature in
all climates where sun and water combine to fertilize the soil. It is to
reach this enormous region that our efforts should be directed ; and the
attempt should be made from the Bight of Benin by water, and the Cape
of Good Hope by land. In South Africa, the natives are gentler, and
the difficulties to a traveller would be fewer, from the ease of procuring
attendants, from the known power of the English settlement, and the
respect for the English name ; and from the mere circumstance of
starting at once, without the delay of a voyage from England, and with-
out the hazards of an unhealthy coast. But the attempt should in
neither direction be made by a solitary traveller, nor by any half-dozen.
An expedition complete in all its parts; consisting of scientific men,
interpreters, and soldiers enough to protect them from any, at least, of
the roving-bands of the Desert, should be sent from the Cape ; and the
whole power of the government there should be exerted to provide for
their safe conduct, and their ultimate success. The steam-boat, on the
Atlantic-side would, of course, have a company strong enough for all
the purposes of discovery.

There must be something which we cannot comprehend, in our nego-
ciations with America. Either Jonathan has the organ of bargaining
developed to a degree that throws our diplomatic bumps into eclipse, or
we are peculiarly unlucky in our envoys across the Atlantic. We never
remember a negociation, in which it was not declared by all sorts of
persons, from the London capitalist to the Canadian back-woodsman, that
Jonathan had outwitted his fathers on this side of the Atlantic. There
is always a discovery, after the treaty has been signed and sealed, that
we have been hoodwinked out of some millions of acres of barren land,
that a swamp of a hundred square miles has been cruelly extorted from
us, or that a measureless range of rocks, on which a goat would not find
enough for a day's browsing, has been swindled away from the supremacy
of Britain. How all this comes, we know not. Nor are the Canadians,
who are eye-witnesses of the transaction, at all likely to help us to the
elucidation. With the dweller on the north of the St. Lawrence,
Jonathan is the perfection of craft ; and he couches his fear and his
wonder under an apologue worthy of JEsop himself.

" The beavers on a certain stream are said to have once proposed, in a
treaty with the fish, that the beavers on their part should have free liberty to
enter and use the waters ; and the fish on theirs, to come on shore. Nothing
could appear more reciprocal. Some old sea-fish indeed had got an idea that
it might intercept the communication between them and their young fry, in
the lakes above ; but all the gudgeons, boobies, noddies, to a great majority,

208 Notes of the' Month on [FEB.

were in favour of the bargain, being- principally directed by cerain flat-fish,
who, having always been in the habit of creeping to the bottom, which they
justly said was a mere continuation of the shore, possessed some experience
of the measure, and declared that by such a treaty food would be obtained
cheaper and better, and more abundant. The treaty was accepted. The
beavers entered, dammed the stream, and preyed upon the fish. But whether
the fish derived much advantage from the reciprocity on their part, remains
yet to be discovered."

Yet with all this hoodwinking Canada thrives. England has more land
than she can sell even with the help of her joint-stock companies; and we
may make Jonathan a present of the swamps, the rocks, and the pine-
barrens, for a thousand years to come.

The universal argument for the increase of public salaries within the
last few years, has been the rise of price in the articles of life, &c., &c.
But whatever may have been that rise, the rise in the value of the cir-
culation, or the difference between the value of the war paper, and the
peace coin, is much more than an equivalent. Notwithstanding which,
amounting as it does to little less than four per cent, on every guinea,
the rise of salaries must be seen to be believed. It has been shewn from
official returns, that in 1797 the whole expense of the Treasury was
£44,000, and that in 1828 it was £80,000 ; that at the former period
the Foreign-office cost £34,000, and in the latter £65,000 ; the Colonial
office, at the same periods respectively, £9,000 and £39,000. The half-
pay and salaries in all our public departments (the pay of army, navy,
and ordnance, of course, not included), was in 1797 £1,370,000, and in
1827 £2,780,000, — as nearly as possible two to one ; while the number
of persons employed in the said departments had increased from 16,000
to 22,000 only, or in the proportion of 11 to 8. Having disposed of the
question of value given, the next is, that of value received. Have our
Statesmen within the last ten years, been wiser, or more active, personages
than in 1797? or have they had weightier interests to manage, or a more
formidable enemy to combat ? We had then War ; France in hostility, and
Napoleon at its head. We have since had Peace, and nothing to contend
with except the Hunts, Watsons, and other mob-leaders. Captain Swing
lias at last entered the lists ; and he has been a tough antagonist. But
still, wre think Napoleon's opposers and conquerors as well deserved their
pay as the Peels or Dawsons, let their prowess be what it might. — But
those things have had their day, and must have their conclusion.

Mr. Sadler has just appeared in the controversial field again, by a
pamphlet entitled " A Refutation of an Article in the Edinburgh
Review." The article was a bitter attack on his treatise on the <c Law
of Population." The pamphlet fully substantiates its title, by taking to
pieces the reviewer's arguments, and shewing their misapprehensions and
omissions. But it does more : availing itself of the censuses of the
foreign populations lately published, it supplies a large quantity of
additional and highly important illustration to the general principle of
Mr. Sadler's system, and completely establishes his victory, by shewing
that, as Bacon said so long since, " repletion is an enemy to generation ;"
the more fully peopled a country is, the less rapidly the rate of popula-
tion increases.

Of the science, the force, and the importance of the treatise on the

1831.] Affairs in General. 209

*' Law of Population," we have no .space here to speak. But we think,
that Mr. Sadler would render a most benevolent service to the community,
by drawing up a brief view of what may be called the " Philosophy of
Population," from the period at which the subject was revived by
Mai thus to the present day, when we may almost say that it has been
triumphantly fixed by himself among the great established truths of
human knowledge. We desire this especially, because, doubtless, from
this principle flow all the chief peculiarities of the social condition,
whether in new colonies or at home. Poor-laws, the division of agri-
cultural labour, the apportionment of taxes, tithe, rents, every thing
connected with the necessities and pressures of society, all form topics
closely connected with the principle. Their due consideration might
suggest remedies for the chief calamities of civil life, and to the mind
of a philosopher whose natural benevolence is exalted and directed by
Christianity, must open views of a nobleness and beauty in the prospects
and progress of the human race, which no man could contemplate with-
out an increase to his virtue and his wisdom.

Every body regretted the late Mr. Huskisson's death ; not that there
was any thing in the man himself to regret, for he was a trading poli-
tician, a name which comprehends every meanness of the human
mind. His desertion of the friends of Canning, so immediately after
his having been brought into office by that unlucky minister, gave rise
to the strongest public contempt ; and his subsequent exposure of him-
self in the paltry and abortive attempt to regain office under the Duke of
Wellington, made him ridiculous for ever as a statesman. But the
manner of his death was so sudden and frightful, that the public com-
passion, which it was impossible to offer to the political trimmer, was
freely given to the dying man. The following odd announcement of
widowed gratitude has lately made its appearance in the papers :

" Mrs. Huskisson has, in the handsomest manner, presented to Mr. Surgeon
Ransome a gold snuff-box ; to Mr. Surgeon' Holt, of Eccles, and Mr. Surgeon
Whatton, each a silver one ; and to the other surgeons who attended her late
husband, on the occasion of his fatal accident, the sum of five guineas
each."

This seems one of the most novel styles imaginable, of recompensing
medical men for their attendance. The five guineas may be regular
enough — but the snuff-box presentations ! We have generally heard of
such donatives as connected with matters of congratulation. The
freedom of cities, &c., is conferred in a box : it might be too " critical"
to suppose, the freedom of widows signalized in the same mode. But
this snuff-box prodigality is the first instance of its being made the
expression of a matron's sorrows.

St. John Long has distanced the majesty of British justice in the
persons of the coroner, the bailiffs, and the Bow-street magistrates, after
all. We knew that he would do so ; but in this we take no possible
credit to ourselves, for every one knew that he would do so. Public
opinion is, we must confess, still divided as to the place of his retreat,
some pronouncing it America, where his purpose is, to set up a bank
with Rowland Stephenson ; others, New South Wales, by a natural
and pleasant anticipation ; and others, Paris, which of late years hag

M.M. New Series.— Vol.. XI. No. 62. 2 E

210 Notes of the Month on [FEB.

superseded Philadelphia, and even New York, as the general receptacle
of " the unfortunate brave," the asylum of those men of genius, who
have too much talent to live in England, the favoured spot of regeneration
for those brilliant speculators whose conceptions equally outrun their
credit and their age. However, the majority are clearly for Paris ; and
the objects of the visit are said to be political, and not personal. The
friends of the ex-ministers, it is understood, have succeeded in engaging
him ; and he is about to put in operation a very extensive system of
counter-irritation among the canaille of the French capital. Should his
exertions be attended with success, he will, on his return, be retained by
the Home-office, and despatched into the disturbed districts to counter-
irritate the erring disciples of " Swing."

On the whole, we are convinced that St. John Long will be seriously
missed at the West-end. His house was a pleasant lounge ; his choco-
late was unimpeachable, whatever his honesty might be ; no one could
ever question the strength of his coffee, whatever might be surmised of
his science ; and the sandwiches which promenaded the rooms regularly
every half-hour, were a triumphant answer to all the aspersions that his
patients lived upon air. We have no doubt that it was a much pleasanter
place than the bazaars, to which such hosts of old peeresses order their
carriages every day at one, with such matchless punctuality, to buy
sixpence- worth of ribbon, and kill three hours. To this, St. John Long's
promenade was a paradise. The comfortable manner in which all the
comforts of the old ladies were provided for ; the pleasantries arising from
the nature of the scene between the various rubbed ; the files of young
women, with their mouths fixed to gas-pipes, and imbibing all sorts of
vapours ; and, never to be forgotten in the catalogue of attractions,
the men of all ages who came to Jearn the art of being cured of all
calamities, that of the purse inclusive. Then, too, St. John's own
judicious generosity ; the presents of invaluable snuff, of first-growth
Champagne, of Mocha coffee to one, and of gunpowder tea to another,
shewed a knowledge of women and human 'nature, that must, but for
the malice of justice, inevitably have led to fortune. What will now
become of the countess, who led her daughters to this palace of Hygeia
as regularly as the day came ; and with a spirit worthy of the great
cause, declared that, if she had twenty daughters, she would take every
one of them every day to the same place, for the same rubbing ? What
will become of the heavy hours of him who declared St. John's gas p.
qualification for the Cabinet, and that a sick minister applying to this
dispenser of all virtue, would be on his legs in the House, and making ?
victorious speech within the twenty-four hours ? What will become of the
battalion of beauties who, at every puff of the gas-pipe, ran to then
mirrors, and received the congratulations of the surrounding dandies, 01
the revived carnation of their cheeks ? " Othello's occupation's o'er." But
a St. John Long, of some kind or other, is so essential to the West-end
world, that a successor must be rapidly erected in his room. Every age
has its St. John Long, formed by the mere necessities of the opulent and
idle. A new Perkins, with a packet of metallic tractors on a new scale-
would be extremely acceptable in any handsome street in the neighbour,
hood of Grosvenor-square. Animal magnetism would thrive prodigiously
between this and the dust-months, when London is left to the guardsmen
and the cab-drivers ; and when, as Lady Jersey says, nobody who is

1831.] Affairs in General. 211

anybody is to be seen in the streets from morning till night, that is, from
three till six. But the true man of success would be Dr. Graham, of
famous memory ; the heir of his talents would make a fortune in any
season of the year ; and now that St. John Long has vacated the -throne,
nothing could be more favourable for his ambition,, than to take advantage
of the interregnum, and make himself monarch of charlatanry without
loss of time.

Dr. Philpotts has reached Exeter, been received with triumphal
honours by the children of the charity-school, passed through a whole
street handsomely lined with the parish paupers, and under an escort of
beadles, a detachment of sextons, and the pew-openers of the venerable
cathedral, taken his seat in the episcopal chair. This scene of public joy
and voluntary respect must be a full answer to all the impudent and in-
sulting things that the papers of Exeter, and of every other town in the
empire, poured out with such surprising remorselessness on the sup-
posed conduct of the Right Reverend Father in God !

In the mind of all honest men and good christians, it must be to no
purpose that Dr. Philpotts has been called all sorts of foul names. Here
is the ample refutation — " He was welcomed to his stall by the charity-
children of a parish in Exeter." What if irreverent words, which have
sunk fifty great men a-year, at the lowest computation, within the last
five years, were showered on the doctor here ; he may lay Jhis hand on
his heart, and trampling his pamphlet on Canning and the Catholic
question, demand whether any man can be base enough to remember a
single pledge, or protestation, there ; while he can appeal to the irre-
sistible fact of his being cheered into Exeter by the charity- children.
For our part, we congratulate the English Church, prosperous and
popular as it is at this moment, on its acquisition "of such a pillar of
learning, piety, and unshaken political principle ! Other men" of rank in
the church may by possibility lay themselves under the charge of time-
serving, trickery, Jesuitism, saying one thing and doing another, &c.;
but now, who can doubt, that for pure integrity, and the absence of all
worldliness, we have in Dr. Philpotts a model of a Christian pastor, an
Israelite in whom is no guile ; a bishop worthy of the apostolic age?
We leave it to others to enumerate the vigour, usefulness, and variety of
his theological works ; the eloquence and sincerity of his sermons, and
the distinguished aid which his writings have given to the knowledge of
the scriptures. If men will be sceptical, and deny the existence of any
thing of the kind from the doctor's labours, we cannot stop to convince
them. We stand on the notorious merits of his public consistency, on
his public abhorrence of saying one thing and doing another ; and ap-
peal in proof to the unrivalled popularity which has exhibited itself on
his reception in Exeter. Happy bishop of a happy people ! happy
clergy who are to have the benefit of his example ! and happy church
which, in this its day of security, is to have the splendid superfluity of
virtues so apostoli cal, and so publicly honoured a name !

As the world of London delights in foreign intelligence, we give them
the following from the land of blue skies and macaroni, where our
bankers' Avives carry themselves to get "attendants/* and their daugh-

2 E 2

212 Notes oftht Month on [FEB.

ters to get billiard-markers and hair-dressers, denominated Counts,
for husbands.

" Extract of a Letter from a Lady of Rank at Naples, Dec. 1. —
Henry de R. proposes passing the winter here. He is in miserable
health. He gambles away his whole time, and wins a great deal of
money. There are but few English people of distinction here at present.
Lady D. goes about with her daughter, who is very ugly ; they ride
together, and sit their horses in the way that men do, which has not a
good or an interesting effect.

"Lady C. having made her formal protest against the English vulgar-
ism of being restricted to a husband ; flourishes about on all occasions in
the uniform of her cavalry regiment, and is calculated to have more of
the dragoon in her, than her deserted spouse, as she certainly exhibits
more impudence and gold lace than any female on the Chiaja.

" Since the Honorable Miss F.'s being carried off to the mountains by
Fra. Jeromimo Malditorre, letters have been received from her by her
noble family. She describes her situation as the most romantic thing
possible. The band consists of fifty persons, the oldest not above five and
twenty, and the whole the most gallant cavaliers imaginable. They spend
the day in practising with the rifle, playing at tric-trac, robbing on the
highway, and telling their beads. They occasionally bring in prisoners,
whom they shoot, or compel to part with their toes and fingers until their
ransom is paid. They often stab or pistol each other, but it is the eti-
quette to take no notice of those matters,, and the community of every
thing, loves and lovers included, makes it quite a life of the golden age.
The last letter was concluded in haste, as the fair writer was obliged to
clean her pistols, preparatory to her going on a secret expedition, with
her Carissimo, which had for its object the capture of the Sardinian
Ambassador's plate chest."

It is added, that " the noble family" having suffered this charming
correspondence to transpire, the effect was instantly visible in the sud-
den departure of several of the fair daughters of noble houses, none of
whom had subsequently returned ; but who were ascertained to have
gone to the mountains for the purpose of sharing their young friend's
felicity. Mr. Hill was still ambassador, but he was unmusical and
lived with his wife ; two circumstances of the highest degree of dis-
qualification in a British ambassador at Naples. The news of Lord
Burghersh's appointment had raised the spirits of all the resident Bri-
tish; concerts, operas and eternal fiddlings were eagerly anticipated; but
the disappointment was heari-breaking on the arrival of the despatches,
annulling the news. However they still had the very sensible consola-
tion that they cannot be compelled to listen to any of his Lordship's
operas.

The Morning Herald has shewn the cloven foot, by attacking the
parochial guardians of the church in its neighbourhood.

" It is rumoured that the authorities of the wealthy parish of St. Mary-le-
Strand have it in contemplation to take into their early consideration the
expediency of causing tlie face of the clock — which, it is said, is to be found
on the steeple of their church— to be washed at their cost ; so that it may
not only be visible to the passers-by, but, its dingy digits being once more
gilded, the curious in that respect may be able to learn from it the time of

1831.] A/airs in General 213

day — an accommodation it has not been known to afford to any within the
recollection of the oldest inhabitants of the parish. It is also said, that the
weathercock surmounting the steeple in question is to be made to demean
itself more in accordance with the spirit of the present changing times, c ever
varying as the wind ;' for, from some cause, weighty and sufficient doubtless,
it has for many years seen fit to point only one way."

The malice of this attack is incontestible. What is it to any news-
paper, all whose preparations and mystifications are made under cover of
midnight, whether the church clock is as visible as the Lord Mayor's
wisdom, or as invisible as the police after dusk ? It is evidently no
affair of theirs. The world goes goes on as well as if there were neither
clock nor church there, and what more can be asked ? As to the
money intended for the " beautifying" of this fearful evidence of modern
architecture, we have no doubt that it is well and wisely employed in
something else, and there is an end of the matter. The weather-cock
allusion is still more malicious. Who cares how a city weather- cock
turns, or what purpose does it ever answer but to fix the eye of the
innocent passenger while his pocket is picking? We say, let the
world and St. Mary alone. All is very well as it is. " Whatever is, is
right," especially in parish business !

There is a rumour that the Duke of Devonshire is about to be
suffered to purchase the Pimlico Palace ! and purchase it too, for
about a fourth of what the public have been compelled to pay for it.
We know not what the spirit of kings may be in this age of shaking
thrones ; but we know that the spirit of the nation would feel itself
most prodigiously surprised by any such transaction. His Grace of
Devonshire's pride is sufficiently bloated already, not to require any
addition, by being thus permitted to thrust himself into the very
tenement of royalty. In Buckingham House the good and venerable
King George the Third lived many a happy and honoured year. We
admit the dishonour brought upon those recollections by the architec-
tural abomination of Mr. Nash's structure ; but still the public money
built the palace, and how many farthings of that money would the
public have given to build a palace for the Duke of Devonshire ? The
sale of York House to Lord Stafford was a matter of the deepest public
disgust, and to this moment it is an offence to the national eye to see
the house intended for the lamented son of George the Third, tenanted
by the little canal proprietor who hides himself in it. But the sale of
Buckingham Palace would be a still less endurable meanness, an open
and degrading confession that there is nothing in England, however
high, secluded, or sacred, which mere vulgar weight of purse may
not master ; and which may not be the prize or prey of the greatest
miser, or coxcomb, or booby, in the realm.

A fierce war is waging in York, in which the combatants are : Mr.
Vernon, the archbishop's son, one of the canons, Mr. Smirke, and their
followers, on the one side, and a large proportion of the gentry on the
other ; and the cause of the war is the removal of the famous cathedral
screen. The subscribers insist that the original framer of the screen
had more brains than MY. Vernon, and more knowledge of architecture
than Mr. Smirke and all his tribe, and that, besides, as they subscribed

214 Notes of the Month on £FEB.

their fifty thousand pounds, expressly for the " restoration" of the
Cathedral, they would be swindled by any attempt to change instead
of restoring it ; and to have to pay for this change too, not less than
twenty thousand pounds. Mr. Etty, the artist, who has more taste
than all the combatants, has written a pamphlet to put this point in a
clear view, and he has completely succeeded. The champions for the
removal say, that the Cathedral will be much more sublime, roman-
tic, and so forth, by transferring it to another corner of the
building, where, of course, the original designer of this singularly fine
piece of workmanship, would have seen all the canons hanged, before
he would have suffered his work to have been put up. It strongly argues
too, against the architectural removers, that by the removal twenty
thousand pounds are to be set in motion too, while, by letting the screen
stand where it is, nobody is to be the richer. With all our deference
for the delicacy of the leading architects of our time, we can think
them no more dignified than their predecessors, and we know that
there was not an architect of the last century, who would not look on
the quietude of twenty thousand pounds with a dissatisfied eye. But
the fact is, that no architect living is entitled for a moment to put
himself in competition with the erector of the York screen, nor with
any, even the humblest of the builders of that edifice, or of any of our
cathedrals. Of all the mediocrities of England, in our day, our archi-
tectural mediocrity is the most undeniable. Our new churches, unless
where they have directly followed the Gothic model, or have servilely
copied some Greek temple, are actual scandals, our palaces are eye-
sores ; the whole science seems to be reduced to the art of laying one
brick upon another, and charging five per cent, upon the outlay. And
is it in this dry, dull, and heavy sera, that we are to presume to meddle
with works of the most unequivocal genius ; this day of builders,
whose proudest art should never have ventured beyond the fabrication
of a coal-cellar, or a public sewer ; this race of genuine Boeotianism,
when on seeing a church, palace, or street, of their workmanship, our
only consolation for its architectural monstrosity, is in the flimsiriess of
its construction, and we congratulate English taste on the certainty that
it will never offend the eyes of a second generation? And are the fine
labours of antiquity and talent to be pulled down or dragged about accord-
ing to the blundering of those personages ? We hope that the subscri-
bers will steadily and indignantly repulse this tampering with things
almost sacred, will disdain to be counteracted by pocketfulls of proxies,
or by any of the contrivances of men whose zeal is but another name
for the obstinacy of absurdity, and that they will not allow an honour
to their city, and one of the finest ornaments of England, to be defaced
by any Hun of an architect or Vandal of a canon.

There has been a great deal of ill-blood lately, about the state of the
Peerage, which is described to be degenerating as fast as possible ; and
certainly the late exposures of the Pension-list are not qualified to make
us wonder at the vehemence of the grumbling. Some noble lords,
notoriously supported solely by the government five hundred a year,
and a multitude of them living on sinecures, pensions, and offices,
afford but a disheartening sketch of the proud peerage. But it is going
to have a powerful reinforcement. A contemporary tells us —

1S31.] Affairs in General. 215

" Mr. Baring, we hear, is to be raised to the peerage. We do not know
why Mr. Baring should not be made a peer; but what we want to know is,
where this lord-making is to end ? There may be room for lord Rothschild,
Lord Cohen, Lord Ricardo, Lord Heseltine, and a few more ; but where are
we to sit, when we are all lords together ?"

We cannot answer this question, and we must leave it to Sir George
Naylor, or any of those useful individuals who provide blue spirits and
white, black spirits and grey, green dragons, blue boars, and bloody
hands, for the coach pannels of prosperous aldermen, and other rising
characters of this world. But in the case of men like the bankers, we
think that nothing but the most stubborn prejudice could be blind to
their claims to the peerage. What can be more dignified than the per-
petual putting up of money in one till, and taking out of another, spend-
ing twelve hours out of every twenty-four in calculating how many
pence discount are to be deducted from a country bill, or keeping five
hundred accounts for five hundred Tom O'Styleses and John O'Nokeses,
in palpitating over the rise or fall of stocks a farthing per cent., and
dabbling with both hands, and all the soul, in ink, arithmetic, money-
broking, and bill dealing, for fifty years together. If all this will not
qualify a man to be a Noble, to regulate the national affairs, to display
personal dignity, and be capable of the large views and manly concep-
tions essential to the guidance of states, we do not know what will.

To Mr. Baring we can have no objection. But one point is worth re-
membering. A good deal of the national displeasure at some of these
hasty promotions has arisen from finding, that after giving the honour,
we have to pay for it ourselves ; in other words, that besides making a
Peer we have been performing the supererogatory work of making a
Pensioner. Now it becomes a matter of some import to ascertain the
means of any new candidate to support his title. Of the opulence of
the individual in question far be it from us to hint a doubt. The truth
is, we know nothing about it, and he may be either as rich as Croesus, or
not worth Sir George Naylor's fee, for any thing that concerns us ; but,
must confess, that we have a general mistrust of the money of trade.
We can look at the salt-pans of a Duke of Devonshire ; the Duke of Bed-
ford can show us a Covent Garden Market ; Lord Grosvenor can exhibit
a vista of brick-kilns poisoning the air of half a province ; Lord
Gwydir can defy fate, as long as there is virtue in mooring-chains.
All those substantialities, if not altogether of the most chivalric
nature, are yet something tangible. But where are we to look
for the substance of a race of men who carry their wealth in a
Bill of Exchange ? Whose ledger is their gold mine ; and whose
desk is their goods and chattels ? What was Monsieur Lafitte a
month ago ? The Plutus of France, commanding, with a touch of
his pen, a flood of gold to flow wherever this more than magi-
cian willed ; striking one dynasty out of the land, and fixing ano-
ther. Yet, if the stories from Paris are true, Monsieur Lafitte is now
fit only " to point a moral and adorn a tale." M. Rothschild is our
Plutus — his throne too is declared to be founded on a rock of gold ;
and we have no objection to its being as solid as the poles, but we would
not pledge our smallest coin that there is any thing like solidity in bank
paper under the moon ; and have we not peers enough, when we have
four hundred and twenty ?

216 Notes of the Month on Affairs in General. £FEB.

The appointment of Mr. Burge as agent for Jamaica, will be received
with great satisfaction by all who are connected with that important island,
and who desire to see its interests supported by ability, experience, and
integrity. The choice is the more remarkable, as Mr. Burge had been
for twelve years the King's Attorney- General, an office in which lawyers
at home are so seldom lucky enough to discover the means of endearing
themselves to their fellow-citizens. Indeed, the general result of the
office is, to display all the hidden blots of character, and transmit the
holder to posterity as a paltry slave, or a bitter and malignant abuser of
power. It is certainly no trivial honour to the present choice of the
Jamaica House of Assembly, that he tempered his office with such
qualities as to make the island thus take the first and the highest oppor-
tunity in its power, of expressing the public gratitude.

On the Report of the Joint Committee of the Council and Assembly,
nominating this gentleman as the agent, an opponent was fortunately
started in the person of a Mr. Colville, an eminent merchant— -fortu-
nately, we say, as it gave an opportunity for a manly and clear detail
of Mr. Surge's conduct in the most delicate point of his office. After
some discussion, the question was put, when the votes for Mr. Burge
were — twenty-eight to eleven. In this debate, Mr. Bernard, a member
of high character, delivered the following handsome and fully-recog-
nized tribute to the late Attorney-General's conduct : —

"All," says that gentleman, " have concurred in admitting the talents and
acquirements, the zeal and application of Mr. Burge : but his opponents have
accused him of endeavouring to carry into effect the measures recommended
by his Majesty's ministers for the slave population, and with having advised
the officers of the Customs to levy duties under Acts of Parliament. He (Mr.
Bernard) well knew Mr. Burge, both in his public and private character; the
leading points of his politics were melioration of the slave population, and an
admission of persons of colour to political and civil rights. If the House had not
gone the whole length of Mr. Surge's opinions, they had at least recognized and
adopted most of them. The slave law of 1826, which had been again passed
last year, contained many enactments which were suggested by Mr. Burge.
The admission of the slave evidence, a measure for which Mr. Burge had
always strenuously contended, had been passed by the House, and the general
tenor of that law, and the one conferring additional privileges on persons of
free condition, shewed that the House went with Mr. Burge in many of his
opinions. As to the charge of authorising the collection of duties, the House
would recollect that it was the bounderi duty of Mr. Burge, as his Majesty's
Attorney-General, to support his Majesty's Government. Mr. Burge was
charged with other acts of obedience to his Majesty's Government. He (Mr.
Bernard) had always been taught that the faithful discharge of one trust by a
man, was the best reason why another should be committed to him. If Mr.
Burge had, as his opponents asserted, faithfully served his Majesty's Govern-
ment as Attorney-General, it was fair to infer that he would as faithfully serve
Jamaica as her agent."

1831.]

C 217 ]

MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.

A Narrative of the Peninsular War, by
Major Leith Hay, 2 vols. I2mo, — Not a
narrative of the war, but a book of and
about the said war ; or, more correctly,
a sketch of what fell under the writer's
own eye — at all times worth more than
a statement compiled from reports,
where every thing is of necessity ge-
neralized, or at least where every
thing like individuality must disap-
pear. Major Hay, for a subaltern,
—as he then was, — had unusual op-
portunities of witnessing the varieties
of service in the Peninsular struggle,
and abundant as have been memoirs on
the subject, we scarcely think his super-
fluous. No two men are placed precisely
in the same circumstances, and of course,
if they keep their eyes open, one sees
something different from his neighbour.
In general Major Hay is eulogistic, and
one motive for publishing is to comme-
morate the achievements of inferior of-
ficers, overlooked by others, though now
and then, when the tide of opinion is too
strong to stem, he yields a confession of
the possibility of error ; but with respect
to the French, he gives free wing to his
censures — they rarely did anything but
blunder. He attributes in fact most
of our successes to French blunders,
without perceiving that in the same pro-
portion he detracts from the merits of
his friends. To be sure, there is merit
hij seizing upon an adversary's slips ;
but higher, at least in the estimation of
most persons, in creating occasions, and
higher still in playing your own game,
than in following your opponent's.

Major Leith Hay was in the Peninsula
as early as August 1808, in the capacity
of aide-de-camp to General Leith, who
was despatched to the north coast to col-
lect information. Under General Leith's
orders were Major Lefevre, Colonels
Jones, Paisley, and Birch. None of
these officers are so much as noticed by
Colonel Napier, who very flippantly, in
the opinion of Major Hay, and erro-
neously in fact, represents the officers,
so employed, all as their own masters,
and with no earthly qualification for the
office, but some little acquaintance with
the language of the country. To Major
Hay this seems excessively harsh and
unjust, and with some bitterness he af-
firms that, Colonel Jones, for instance,
was a man of at least equal authority
with Colonel Napier himself. Informa-
tion at head quarters was sadly defec-
tive, but the English were new to the
country, and the Spaniards lazy. Before
General Moore's disastrous retreat,
Major Hay and his superior joined the
army, and were present at the battle of
Corunna. " The misfortunes of Moore's
M.M. New Series.— Voi.XI. No.G2.

army," says the Major, " were occasioned
by inexperience in campaigning, by an
ignorant commissariat, by bad roads, and
dreadful weather - but never by the
enemy." Major Hay was also with his
regiment at the battle of Talavera, the
success of which, if success it could be
called, is thus accounted for:— "Great
firmness to grapple with responsibility,
self-possession to rise above adverse cir-
cumstances, a vigorous mind to decide
promptly and correctly, brave troops,
and the good fortune of being indecisively
and injudiciously opposed, brought Sir
Arthur Wellesley through the battle of
Talavera."

Of the 10,000 who filled the hos-
pitals on the plains of Estramadura,
after the battle of Talavera, the author
was one ; and though he had full three
months to speculate on the causes which
induced the commander-in-chief to linger
on these miserable plains, with the
troops perishing by thousands, Major
Hay "• never, neither then nor since,
could discover a sufficient reason for
Lord Wellington's subjecting his army
to this mortal and apparently unneces-
sary infliction." After his recovery, the
Major joined 'the army in Portugal,
and assisted in the conflict at Busaco ;
and after reaching the lines of Torres
Vedras, accompanied General Leith to
England, before Massena shewed any
symptoms of evacuating Portugal. Early
in January of the following year (1812)
he was again in the field, and time
enough to witness the fall of Ciudad
Rodngo. At the battle of Salamanca
he was wounded, but again on his legs
in time to reach Madrid and join in the
retreat from the capital, which was all
but as disastrous as Sir John Moore's.
Circumstances luckily were more fa-
vourable— the soldiers were better sea-
soned, and in the opinion of Major Hay,
if we understand him, better command-
ed.

During the following winter, and
till May 1813, the Major was employed
as a scout, and such were the facilities
afforded by the goodwill of the natives,
that he was able to keep close to the
enemy's quarters for months without
detection or danger. He ventured, how-
ever, once too often. He was discovered
and secured, and refusing to give his
parole, was treated with some harsh-
ness ; but the treatment was not surely
to be complained of, for the refusal of
his parole was equivalent to an avowal
of a design to escape. In fact he was
liberally treated, for a few days before
the battle of Vittoria he was exchanged
for an officer then in England, who had
been captured in the field. To the Major's
2 F

218

Monthly Review of Literature,

[FEB.

annoyance, however, he was kept on
parole till the exchange was completed,
though allowed to proceed to the British
head quarters. His opportunities ena-
bled him to give Lord Wellington proofs
of the enemy's intention to make a
stand at Vittoria, and put him upon his
guard. Though precluded from fight-
ing, he was not, it seems, from being
present at the battle, and accordingly he
was with the commander-in-chief during
the whole of it — expressly, because there
might be points upon which Lord Wel-
lington might wish to question him. To
our notions this scarcely falls within the
chivalrous limits of a soldier's honour.
In the action, while the aides-de-camp
were all dispatched on different errands,
the commander turned to Major Hay,
but recollecting his situation, he observ-
ed— " No, you cannot." This is remarked
not merely as creditable to the com-
mander, but as an instance of self-pos-
session at so tumultuous a moment; and
truly it is an eminent one, and the cir-
cumstance is worthy of being recorded
on both accounts.

Basil Harrington and his Friends, 3 vols.
12mo. — The author of this production
has thrown his offspring upon the world,
like a bear's cub unlicked, without sym-
metry or shape. Its limbs hang together
like those of a paper harlequin, with no
proportions or proprieties in their move-
ments. Yet there is nerve and vigour
in them. Some of the sketches, in plain
terms, are excellent— well worked up —
attesting the possession of strong and
original conception, with a capacity for
entering with depth and discrimination
into painful feelings and harassing posi-
tions. But a want of skill to link the
results, and give force and effect to his
combinations is deplorably manifest.

Barnngton is a gentleman who suffers
his affairs to run to ruin while he
is in pursuit of his own enjoyments
— the knick-knackeries of a virtuoso.
He gets of course into difficulties, and
with a wife and children,those difficulties
involve him in the most excruciating
distresses. In his extremity he tries —
as men in such situation will, in spite of
all experience and all warning — to solicit
loans ; and every body, he finds of
course, has excuses ready cut and dried
at command to baffle his purpose. He
has a brother, a man of immense wealth,
but with a heart naturally — there are
such things — as hard as a stone, and made
still harder, if possible, by a perversion
of religious principle or formality. His
unfortunate brother has run himself
wilfully into difficulties — he has done
wrong and must bide the penalty ; to
relieve him is flying in the face of Pro-
vidence— an attempt to obstruct the
natural consequences of the laws of na-
ture, &c.

To him, of course, all appeals are
made in vain, till finally a lady, a com-
mon acquaintance, of manners, by the
way, that set common rules at defiance
— a person, such as nobody, in our well.
drilled state of society, can now-a-days,
by possibility meet with— undertakes
apparently the cure of this religious and
hypocritical professor. Through the
agency and connivance of friends she
contrives to seduce him into hazardous
speculations in mines and share bubbles,
till he believes himself at last the dupe
of knavery ; and in that belief curses
his fate, and recals his cruelty to his
brother. The scheme, if scheme it can
be called, is so unskilfully conducted,
that by a mere accident, a circumstance
not to be calculated upon, the unhappy
Barrington is only at last rescued from
irremediable misery by the act of an
actual madman, whose story, told at the
length of nearly a volume, finally proves
to be the suggestions of his own phren-
sied fancy, and wholly unconnected with
the texture of the tale.

The Literary Correspondence of John
Pinker ton, Esq., 2 vols. 8vo — This cor-
respondence consists almost wholly of
letters addressed to Pinkerton. Very
few of his own letters have been pre-
served. The letters now printed were
arranged by himself for publication.
Mr. Dawson Turner has here and there
added a note by way of explanation, and
cut away what appeared to him we sup-
pose less insignificant than the rest. The
whole would have doubled the mass now
printed, and now there is too much by
half. Pinkerton himself was devoted,
body and soul, to the manufacture of
books, but possessed neither of temper,
judgment, or taste to serve the cause
of literature. His prejudices were quite
ludicrous, and his violence intolerable.
He was born at Edinburgh in 1 758 ; the
son of a merchant ; and articled at the
usual age to an attorney of the same
town. Just at the expiration of his
articles his father died, and with the
property which then fell into his pos-
session, not considerable, but enough for
a man of moderate habits and wants, he
hastened to London, and surrendered
himself to the vexations, perhaps to the
pleasures, of literature. His first effort
was spent on the ancient poetry of Scot-
land; and very early he distinguished
himself by a volume of letters upon
literature," which brought him into fa-
vourable notice among the would-be
patrons of letters of that day. Succes-
sively he appeared as a writer on medals,
on Scotch history, on geography, geo-
logy, &c. He gained but little by his
productions, compared with the labour
of many of them, and in his latter days
fell into poverty, and died at Paris in
1826. The correspondence, though

1831.J

Domestic find Foreign.

little connected, tells the story of his
life, that is of his publications, for almost
all are spoken of more or less. Many of
the letters are from men of rank in
society, if not in literature, such as Lord
Buchan and Horace Walpole, but more
from men of inferior rank in all re-
spects. Pinkerton was, as we have said,
of an irritable temperament, and many
of the letters are connected with his
quarrels and misunderstandings. A re-
ply of Godwin's, so far back as 1709, on
some supposed offence, is admirable.
Every body seemed to Pinkerton to use
him ill, and nobody will wonder who
conceives his bilious portrait. He was
a very little and very thin old man, with
a very small, sharp, yellow face, thickly
pitted with the small pox, and decked
with a pair oj:' green spectacles.

While publishing engravings of dis-
tinguished Scotchmen, very miserable
ones by the way, he wrote Sir John Sin-
clair a dissertation on the Scotch phi-
libeg. According to Pinkerton the old
loose Braccse, covering leg and thigh,
were followed by tight hose, which hose
were covered at last, for the sake of
decency, by the haut de chausses (or top of
hose). At first this, which was very short
and loose as a philibeg, was lengthened
by degrees, till Henry I V. of France
wore it down to within three or four
inches of the knee, and gathered like a
petticoat tucked. Louis XII I. appeared
with what are now called breeches.
The Germans call breeches hosen, a term
which we confine to stockings. But the
haut de chausses has become among the
Highlanders most indecent, because they
do not wear, as they ought, long hose
under the philibeg. " It is not only
grossly indecent," adds Pinkerton, in his
usual way, " but filthy, as it admits dust
to the skin, and emits the foetor of
perspiration ; is absurd, because while
the breast, &c. are twice covered by
vest and plaid, the parts concealed by
all other nations are but loosely covered ;
is effeminate, being mostly a short petti-
Coat, an article of female dress ; is beg-
garly, because its shortness, and the
shortness of the stockings, joined with
the naked knees, impress an unconquer-
able idea of poverty and nakedness."
^ In reply to this antiquarianism and
tirade, Sir John thinks that haut de
chausses means trowsers, and not the
philibeg; "Indeed," he continues, "it
is well known that the philibeg was in-
vented by an Englishman in Lochabar,
about sixty years ago, who natu-
rally thought his workmen would be
more active in that light petticoat than
in the belted plaid; and that it was
more decent to wear it than to have no
clothing at all, which was the case with
some of those employed by him in cut-
ting down the woods in Lochabar."

Did not Sir John see the absurdity of
naked men in the Highlands of Scot-
land ?

Memoirs of the War in Greece, by Mr.
Millingen. — Mr. Millingen, in 1823, had
just terminated his professional studies,
when the Greek committee were beating
up for medical recruits; and seizing
the opportunity for active employment,
he forthwith enrolled his name in the
lists of candidates. He was well recom-
mended, and his services of course were
promptly accepted. At Cephalonia, he
was introduced to Lord Byron, and at
Missolonghi, his recommendation ob-
tained him an appointment in the Greek
service. He was, moreover, consulted
by him in his last illness — conflicted
with Bruno as to his medical treatment,
and was present at his death, and the
post-mortem examination. Some time
ago, in the Westminster Review, it
seems, Bruno threw the blame of im-
proper treatment upon Millingen, while
in fact, as Millingen in his defence as-
serts, Bruno, as chief physician, had
every thing his own way. Millingen's
statement is this : Lord Byron liad a
horror of bleeding, and thought, as Dr.
Reid said or wrote, the lancet had killed
more than the sword ; he had besides
promised his mother never to be blood-
ed, and in short peremptorily resisted
Bruno's urgency. Getting alarmed,
however, as he grew worse, he consult-
ed Millingen. Millingen was equally
earnest for bleeding, and finally worried
him into compliance. The operation,
apparently too long delayed, was not at-
tended with the success anticipated by
both Bruno and Millingen ; but Millin-
gen was for persevering. In his opinion,
antiphlogistic remedies alone had any
chance. Bruno insisted upon antispas-
modics, and actually administered Vale-
rian, with ether, &c. The consequence
was convulsions, or at least convulsions
immediately followed, and in spite of all
remonstrance, on the part of Millingen,
a second dose was given, and the patient
was soon gone.

After Lord Byron's death, Mr. Mil-
lingen continued in the Greek service
till the capture of Navarino. Unlucki-
ly he was in the town, and thus fell
into the hands of Ibrahim, who having
just lost a physician, insisted upon his
taking the vacant office. No alterna-
tive was left him, he was in the hands
of a barbarian, who considered the life
of his prisoner at his disposal. Mr.
Millingen of course yielded, and in
spite of all the interest exerted in his
favour by friends, he was not able to
escape the fangs of his tormentor till
the following year. In his absence his
enemies— every man has them — were
busy, and maliciously charged him with
2 F 2

220

Monthly Review of Literature,

[FEB.

giving up the Greek cause, and " basely,
for the sake of better pay, deserting
the cross for the crescent." Much of
Mr. Millingen's very intelligent book is
accordingly occupied in defence, but in-
dependently of personal matters, his
narrative of events, and especially his
sketches of distinguished Greeks and
Philhellenes are executed in a style of
discrimination that entitles them to at-
tention. But the portion of the volume
which will prove most attractive is un-
doubtedly what concerns Lord Byron.
Of the accounts relative to his last days
we have seen none that bear the marks
of veracity so distinctly stampt upon
them.

The old Scotch fortune - teller's—
" beware of your thirty-seventh year,"
seems to have pressed upon Lord By-
ron's recollection. He entered this thir-
ty-seventh year in January, while in
Greece; and repeated the story of the
warning with great emotion, in the pre-
sence of Mr. M. The party laughed at
his superstition. "To say the truth," re-
plied Lord B. " I find it difficult to know
what to believe in this world, and what
not to believe. There are as many
plausible reasons for inducing me to die
a bigot, as there have been to make me
hitherto live a free-thinker. You will,
I know, ridicule my belief in lucky and
unlucky days ; but no consideration can
now induce me to undertake any thing
either on a Friday or a Sunday. I am
positive it would terminate unfortunate-
ly. Every one of my misfortunes, and
God knows, I have had my share, have
happened to me on one of those days.
You will ridicule, also, a belief in in-
corporeal beings. I could give you
the details of Shelley's conversations
with his familiar. Did he not apprise
me, that he had been informed by that
familiar, that he would end his life by
drowning ? and did 1 not, a short time
after, perform on the sea-beach, his fu-
neral rites ?"

Three or four days before his death,he
asked Millingen to inquire for any very
old and ugly witch. M. turned the re-
quest into ridicule. "Never mind," said
Lord B., "whether lam superstitious or
not; but I again entreat of you to bring
me the most celebrated one there is, in
order that she may examine whether
this sudden loss of my health does not
depend on the c evil eye.' She may de-
vise some means to dissolve the spell !"
One was found, but as he did not repeat
the request, she was not introduced.
Mr. M. attributes the attack to drinking
punch to excess with Parry.

Blisters on the legs were proposed.
Lord B. asked if they could not both be
applied to the same leg. " Guessing his
motive," says M. " I told him 1 would
place them above the knees. 4 Do so,'

said he, c for as long as I live, I will not
allow any one to see my lame foot. Did
not I tell you,' he said repeatedly, 4 1
should die at thirty seven ? ' "

Encyclopaedia Britannica, Parts IX.
and X. — Professor Leslie's dissertation*
proves quite worthy to fill up the va-
cuam left by Playfair. The writer's
hazardous undertaking was to resume
his predecessor's discourse, and conduct
the history of mathematical and physical
science through the eighteenth century.
We had read the piece without observ-
ing this limitation, and were surprised
occasionally to find the story, for the
most part, for any notice it took of
recent advances in science, might have
been written as well twenty or thirty
years ago. In some branches of physics,,
electricity and astronomy for instance,
the progress is brought nearer to our
own times, and the wnole surely should
have been worked out quite up to the
date of the edition of the Encyclopaedia
it was destined to accompany and illus-
trate. What is done, however, is well
done. Mr. Leslie had a much more
laborious and difficult task to accomplish
than his predecessor. The regions of
science expanding so immensely in the
eighteenth century, the effort required
more resolution, more research, and
above all, more selection. The mate-
rials, in proportion as they were ampler,
were more scattered. The outline of
his subject was at once more extensive,
and the details incomparably more
abundant. The result is a very useful
compendium of a multitudinous subject.
In the body of the Encyclopaedia, the
article America is able and comprehen-
sive, and would have been improved by
a glance at the general statistics of the
United States, to complete, Avhat ap-
parently was intended, a view of the
western world.

The Military Bijou, by John Shipp, 2
vols. 12mo. — When Shipp had his own
unique story to tell he told it well, and
every body was delighted with it ; but
the narrative exhausted his resources.
It contained the pith of his materials,
and the volumes before us present no-
thing but scraps, the greater part of
which were scarcely worth collecting or
recollecting. Too often he mistakes
breadth for humour — vapouring for
frankness— stale romance for generous
sentiment, and is perpetually tripping
in chace of fine writing, and ever and
anon is on the brink of slip-sloppery.
But it is a soldier's book, and need not
be severely handled. A courtship scene
has perhaps truth and humour enough
in it to balance the coarseness.

THE SOLDIER'S SWEET-HEART.

It is an old saying, that sokliers and sailors
have one at every port. There is more truth ii)

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

221

the adage— I know from my own experience —
than is attached to many sayings of the olden
time. More is the pity, says the moralizer ; so
say I; but I have known the most unsullied
pledges of love to he given by such lovers. And
do dear women not deserve it? — they do. But I
am going from my subject :— what is meant by a
Soldier's Sweet-heart ? If you;don't know, I will
tell you.

After evening parade, soldiers generally go for
a recreative stroll, for the purpose of meeting
some fair maiden, in whose young bosom there is
an inclination to be beloved by the brave defend-
ers of Albion. The greeting, if strangers, is
this :—

Soldier. Good evening, my little beauty ; by
my bayonet, well pointed, but I wish I had so
sweet a girl for a sweet-heart.

Maiden. Come, hands off, fellow !— don't you
go for to handle me— you are mistaken in your
mark.

Soldier. Me! you little black - eyed, rosy-
cheeked beauty ! I never miss my aim — that is
always a dead one.

Maiden. Then you have missed for the first
time.

Soldier.. Oh, no, my dear— it is only a flash in
the pan ; come, come, don't be so coy ; come and
kiss me.

Maiden. There, take that.
Soldier. Pray, what do you call that? I'll have
you hung and gibbeted for striking your superior
officer ; I will, you little dimpled-cheeked nussey ;
you have knocked out my right eye.

Maiden. So much the better ; it will save you
the trouble of shutting it when you make your
dead shot.

Soldier. By my well-cleaned musket, but you
have hit your shot in right good earnest, and I am
resolved to take the forfeiture of striking a sol-
dier.

Maiden. What is that?

Soldier. Why, amongst men, blow for blow ;
but, from lovely woman, for a blow we take a
kiss. By Jove, but I would have the other eye
bunged up for another such a honied kiss ; so I
would, and call myself a gainer.
Maiden. Then there it is.
Soldier. And there it is ; now we are quits.
Maiden. You are a good-for-nothing fellow, so
you are; and I' 11 tell my mistress, so I will— in-
deed I will.

Soldier. Do, my little Phoebe, and I will serve
her the same.

Maiden. Ay, but you dare not, for she is a
lady.

Soldier. A lady! so much the better ; they are
as fond of kissing as their maids.
Maiden. Oh! but she is married.
Soldier. Better stiil ; then she understands it.
Maiden. Oh, dear !— there, it is four o'clock.
What will my mistress say? You may depend
upon it I will tell her of your imperance, so I
will.

Soldier. So do, my little sloe-eyed dear; and
there is another kiss for you for your trouble.

Maiden. And there is another box in the face
for you.

Soldier. May my firelock miss fire, if I stand
it any longer ; so I will e'en make up the round
dozen.
Maiden. Is that what you call a round dozen ?

Soldier. Yes, my dear, a soldier's dozen.

Maiden. Do you pay all your debts r.s ho-
nestly?

Soldier. To the fair sex, certainly, my pretty
little black-eyed, black-haired, rosy-cheeked dear.
If I had you for a sweet-heart, I would not change
places with the great captain of the age ; I should
be the happiest man in England.

Maiden. Yes, if all the rest are out of it.

Soldier. But, my love

Maiden. Your love, indeed!

Soldier. I hope you will be.

Maiden. What should I see in your ugly face
to become your love, I should like to know?

Soldier. Not ugly, either— that's too bad; I
flatter me that there are worse going mortals than
myself.

Maiden. But you are only a private soldier.

Soldier. Pardon me, my dear ; I am a lance-
corporal.

Maiden, A lance-corporal! — what is that?

Seldier. An officer who carries a lance.

Maiden. Then I beg your corporalship's par-
don. Hark! half-past four as I am a sinner! I
shall certainly lose my place.

Soldier. I hope so ; I have one for you.

Maiden. Where?

Soldier. In my heart.

Maiden. Deary me ! — have soldiers got hearts?

Soldier. Yes, and faithful ones, too.

Maiden. Indeed ! Well, I can really stay no
longer; but mind you never speak to me again ;
and if you come past our house — No. 2, Love
Lane, you may depend upon what you will re-
ceive.

Soldier. Good bye, lovely creature.

Maiden. Goodbye, you impudent fellow.

Thus soldiers make love, and this surreptitious
courtship forms the misery of both for life. My
heart has ached, when marching through England,
to see groups of these unfortunates, following
their lovers hundreds of miles, to see them embark
for foreign stations, when the agonizing grief of
those faithful women was truly heart-rending.
On their re-landing, they are there to hail their
lovers' return, and welcome them to their native
land.

Travels and Researches of Eminent Eng-
lish Missionaries, fyc. by Andrew Picken.
— A commendable attempt to separate
the general information discoverable in
the travels of missionaries, their re-
searches, and adventures, from the com-
mon details of missionary labours.
Within the last half century many
countries have been visited bv them,
to which the pursuits of the philosopher
or the merchant, or the mere gazer at
wonders, seldom conduct them. No
mere occasional visitor, again, whatever
may be his immediate object, can have
the opportunities which the missionary
has. He mingles and lives among the
people, and long enough often to pene-
trate below the surface, and strip off the
ostensible motives of action. But rarely
has it happened that the missionary him-
self has been a man qualified to make
the best use of his opportunities ; some,
however, have, and the compiler's object

222

Mont klij Review of Literature,

[FEB.

is to gather together what he considers
calculated to add to the stock of our
knowledge of the g^lobe.

The earliest missions in modern times
were Catholics, both in the east and the
west. But very early the reformers of the
continent made several efforts. Before
Calvin's death even, a party of Swiss
passed over to the Brazils, but with a
result most disastrous to themselves.
After a residence of some months, they
were driven out to sea in a miserable
vessel, with scarcely any food, and very
few survived their sufferings. A few
years afterwards Gustavus Vasa dis-
patched some missionaries to Lapland,
and early in the following century the
Dutch sent out more than one expedi-
tion to Ceylon and Java. The Danes
were still more conspicuous, and made
several attempts both in Greenland and
the East Indies. Our own American
colonists, towards the middle of the same
century, promoted similar undertakings
among the Red Indians — the names of
Brainherd, Ellis, and Serjeant, as mis-
mionaries, are familiar. None, however,
were so indefatigable as the Moravians
during the last century under the pa-
tronage of Zinzindorf, assisted occasion-
ally bv the English friends of missionary
exertion.

But no direct attempt was, we believe,
ever made in this country, — save some
slight and inefficient efforts by the
Church Society for the Propagation of
the Gospel,— before that of Dr. Coke, the
methodist. He and three others, des-
tined for Nova Scotia, were driven by
adverse winds to one of the West India
islands, an event which, in its successful
results, laid the foundation of the Wes-
ley an Missionary Society. In 1792 the
Baptist Society despatched Carey and
Ward to the East Indies; and four years
after the London Society fitted out a
mission to the South Seas. With this
latter expedition the compiler com-
mences his volume, and sketches in suf-
ficient detail the voyage of the ship Duff
among the islands ot the South Sea.
Though calculated to cool persons of
less ardour than the patrons of missions,
the result only animated them, and the
ship was again despatched with a rein-
forcement of pious labourers* Unluckily
they were captured by the French, and
put ashore at Monte Video, from whence
they at last got back to England. In
the meanwhile the original mission met
with rough treatment from the natives
of the island, prompted by two or three
worthless shipwrecked sailors. The
greater part contrived to escape, but a
few persevered. No fresh attempt was
made to relieve them from home, though
the London Society never quite aban-
doned the hope, ami in 1815 a Mr. Wm»
Ellis was commissioned to reconnoitre

the scene, and put the society in posses-
sion of adequate information. On his
representation another batch of mission-
aries was prepared, and Mr. Ellis con-
tinued to prosecute his researches, and
labour in his vocation with more or less
success for eight or ten years. These
matters fill up nearly two-thirds of the
volume before us, and the remainder is
taken up with the pith of Vanderkempt's
narrative, and M. Campbell's two jour-
neys over the dreary regions of the Cape.
The compiler purposes to proceed, and
we wish him success in his labours. Half
a dozen similar volumes may be readily
got up, with matter full of interest, and
very little known.

Stories of American Life, by American
Writers ; edited by Miss Mitford, 3 vols.
I2mo. — There is no longer any need of
complaint about lack of native talent in
America. Writers multiply every day,
and their productions already appear in
numbers numberless. How long, or
rather how short a time is it since Ame-
ricans depended wholly on reprints of
our works ! and now we are ready to re-
turn the compliment, and reprint theirs.
Browne, Cooper, and Miss Sedgewick
are the only names yet familiar among
novel readers-for Washington Irving's
subjects are almost all English—but in
addition to these now pretty well known
writers, the Americans have annuals,
magazines, and other periodicals, v/hich
embrace some of the most popular pro-
ductions of the most popular living
writers in the world of the west. Ver-
plante, Paulding, Hall, Neale, Barker,
Willis, &c. — all men of renown, and
mighty in their hemisphere.

Miss Mitford accordingly, commission-
ed by Messrs. Colburn and Bentley, has
made a copious selection of short pieces,
eight or ten to the volume, and they are
beyond all question entitled to class with
any collection of tales which fill similar
volumes with our own native produc-
tions. The clever editor has studiously
confined her selections to pieces which
have something national and character-
istic of the country in them. They are,
therefore, not merely European cha-
racters and incidents coupled with Ame-
rican names. "Many a clever essay have
I rejected," says Miss M., " because it
might have been written on this side of
the Atlantic ; and many a graceful tale
has been thrown aside for no graver
fault than that, with an assortment of
new names, it might have belonged
to France or Switzerland, or Italy, or any
place in Christendom (not, we suppose,
meaning to exclude America from the
regions of Christendom), where love is
spoken and tears are shed ; whilst I have
grasped at the broadest caricature, so
that it contained indications of Iddal

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

223

manners ; and clutched the wildest
sketch, so that it gave a bold outline of
local scenery. I wanted to shew the
Americans as they are, or rather make
them shew themselves." An arduous
task for one who has no personal ac-
quaintance with the country, and must
trust to books, with nothing but her own
sagacity, on which however she may
safely rely, to guide her. In the stories,
variety of course was a leading point — •
some relate to the towns, and some to
the forests; some to the shores, and
some to the prairies ; some are broad
and coarse ; some sentimental, some
moral, others romantic, but none of
them heavy. You need not go to sleep to
escape from any of them. Good sound
sense, with nothing of the lack-a-daisical,
runs through the whole of the pieces,
and in this respect they might have
been written all by one person. Many
of the pieces are anonymous at home,
but the editor has not given the names
even of those she must have known,
which is something like defrauding
the authors of their fair fame. We
have space neither for extracts nor out-
lines, not to say that the whole are so
equally respectable, that it would be
invidious to attempt to give priority to
any. If we did notice any in particular,
it would probably be Pete Featherton,
because the story involves a point of
superstition, from which America is
thought to be as free, as Ireland from
snakes. The scenes in Washington too,
might justly, if any, claim distinction ;
crowded with the holders of office, and
candidates for office, and speculators of
every age or sex.

The Vizier's Son, or the Adventures of
a Mogul^ by the Author of Pandurang
Hari, fyc. 3 vols. \2rno. — By moguls are
meant in India, specifically, foreigners,
whose complexions are fair, and who
profess Mahometanism, such as Arabs,
Turks, and Persians. The writer, a
very competent person, has before given
us the Adventures of an Hindoo. The
scene of his new tale is the court of
Shah Jehan, and the basis and most of
its materials consist of the cabals and
intrigues of his four sons towards the
close of his life, to succeed him. The
hero of the tale is involved, in spite of
all his efforts, and in defiance of honest
intentions, in their several schemes, and
in general escapes from one peril only to
plunge into another. He is himself,
though he does not know the fact till
the final denouement, a nephew of Shah
Jehan ; but is brought up in the family
of the Vizier, represented as his son,
and very early introduced into office and
command. The youth is of a mighty
inflammable temperament, and a pair of
bright eyes bring him into frequent

conflict with the duties of his station.
The Shah's daughters are as restless
and intriguing as his sons. Never was
king, indeed, more plagued with his fa-
mily, except perhaps our own second
Henry ; but the workings of Nemesis
were, as usual, just enough. The Shah
had destroyed many of the members of
the race of Timour — all as he thought —
and his greatest vexations finally pro-
ceeded from his own children. His
domestic cruelties were visited on his
own head by his own family. A brother,
the father of the hero of the tale, had
however escaped the general carnage,
and after submitting to a long obscurity
reappears, and recognizes his brave and
noble son, in concurrence with whom he
resolves to attempt the recovery of his
regal rights. The result is not pursued
in the volumes before us, and the silence
of historical records implies a failure or
a fiction. Aurungzebe, that son of Shah
Jehan who finally triumphed over all
his brothers, we know seized his father's
sceptre, and kept it to his 90th year,
and handed it over quietly, quietly for
the east, to his own offspring. The
story is not altogether without interest;
but so abhorrent are the habits of the
east to those of our western world in
our day, that with difficulty can any
warm sympathy be raised in our bosoms
by the revolting details. So perverted
are the natives in principle and so des-
potic in practice, such contempt of life
and security appears on all sides, such
ups and downs, such fury and revenge,
such cold selfishness and burning pas-
sions, that there is no going along with
them. The finest sources of interest,
which spring from the delicacies of do-
mestic feeling, are absolutely withered
and swept away. The volumes, how.
ever, are calculated to extend our ac-
quaintance with the country, but must
be read, if read at all, for the sake of
dry information ; amusement they can
scarcely furnish to any one, not already
orientalized.

Sunday Library, by Dr. Dibdin, Vol. /,
— The value of a selection does not de-
pend wholly upon ,the selector. The
best he can do is to give the best he can
find. Ex nihilo nihil ; and if it be true, as
it probably is, that out of the writers of
sermons within the last fifty years,
amounting to some hundreds, perhaps
thousands, nothing better could be found
than the contents of this volume, the
Editor is not to blame, save for not
abandoning an undertaking, which,
however well conceived, could not be
executed with any credit either to him-
self or the profession. With two, or at
the most, three exceptions, the eighteen
sermons here reprinted — the volume has
nothing but reprints — really present

224

Monthly Review of Literature,

[FEB.

nothing that can arrest the attention of
any intelligent person, as to manner or
matter. Among the seven or eight
selected from living preachers, two are
the production of the Bishop of Lon-
don, and more lifeless pieces of inanity
we scarcely ever looked upon — there is
no vigour of conception in them— no
spirit in the handling — no novelty of
illustration— no, nor one single flash of
eloquence — merely humdrum. A ser-
mon of Benson reflecting upon Lord
Byron, gives occasion for a note by the
editor on the subject of Kennedy's con-
versations with the noble poet. Dr.
Dibdin thinks Kennedy did not treat
his patient skilfully. He should have
administered steel doses of Paley and
Herbert Marsh, instead of drenching
him with thin potations of methodism.
The Editor has, apparently, no doubt
that, had Dr. Dibdm prescribed, the re-
sult would have been— a cure.

The Gentleman in Black, Illustrated by
Cruickshank. — A smart little jeu d1 esprit
descriptive of some of the wily man-
oeuvres of the Gentleman in Black. A
portion of it appeared some time ago in
a publication called the Literary Mag-
net, which, though a work of some
value, shared the fate of scores of even
good periodicals. The tale is now com-
pleted, and illustrated by some of the
touches of Cruickshank's pencil— never
so happy as when exposing the devil. A
young French spendthrift, pestered by
tailors' bills, exclaims, "What the devil
shall I do?" "Did you call, Monsieur?"
inquires the Gentleman in Black, sud-
denly presenting himself at this invoca-
tion. The youngster, after getting over
his surprise a little, enters into a formal
compact for unlimited supplies of money,
on condition of sinning (quite to his
taste) annually a definite quantity, be-
ginning with one moment, but proceeding
in a geometrical ratio. In pretty much
the same circumstances a young Eng-
lishman makes the same bargain. Both,
of course, go on for some time in the full
swing of indulgence, checked only by the
sable Gentleman, when either appears
on the point of doing, which rarely
occurs, any thing likely to conflict with
his general views. For some years, of
course, the advantages of the contract
are all on one side — the quid pro quo is
of the lightest kind, but gradually it
grows too weighty to be longer borne.
In some thirty years the stipulation
demands the work of four thousand
days at the rate of sixteen hours a day
in a single year. Even the sum of his
early excesses, though liberally placed
to his credit, scarcely relieves him, and
in his despair he lays the bond before an
old cunning fox of a lawyer to see if he
can detect a flaw. The bond is correctly

drawn, but the lawyer proves the bank-
notes which had been supplied to be
forgeries, which cuts away a large slice
of the devil's demands ; and as to the
rest of the debt, the lawyer finally
frightens him into accepting a composi-
tion, by threatening to throw the case
into Chancery, where, of course, it is
not likely to be decided in his time.
(This, it will be remembered, occurred
before the accelerating days of Chancellor
Brougham.) The bond is accordingly
cancelled, and the victorious litigant
turns over a new leaf.

In the meanwhile the Frenchman has
recourse, in his embarrassments, to his
confessor and the church, but obstructed
by a thousand forms and appeals, he
luckily consults his English friend, who
of course recommends Ms own lawyer,
and the lawyer, elated by his recent
triumph, readily undertakes the matter.
The case is already before the church,
and must be prosecuted in its courts.
The lawyer makes an alliance with a
Jesuit, and the devil, through bravely
resisting these fearful odds, finally gives
way, seduced by the glorious prospects
opened to him by the schemes of the
Jesuits, already in agitation, and sure to
be productive to him of the most satis-
factory results.

Cabinet Library, Vol. I — Dr. Lardner
again. — Dr. Lardner is taking the whole
corps de litterature into his grasp and his
pay. Whoever cannot be made avail-
able for the service of the Cyclopaedia,
may in one shape or other be crimped
into the miscellanies of the library —
nothing will be too great or too little ;
too hot or too heavy. Captain Sherer
takes the field in this new war, and the
gallant Captain details the active life,
ten times told, of the Duke of Welling-
ton, with a spirit and intelligence that
augurs well for the new campaign of his
literary chief. Considering the Duke's
incessant activity in India for seven
vears, in the field and in council, a
larger space might have been assigned
to that portion of his life, especially as
it is precisely the least known to the
public. Captain S. is of course highly
eulogistic ; but he lays too much stress
upon the Seringapatam address on Sir
Arthur's departure from India, as if
such addresses were voluntary things,
or indicative of any thing but fear, flat-
tery, or interest. The volume before
us, the first of three, carries on the
Duke's story to the battle of Talavera.
Though the'Captain sees nothing wrong
in the field, let who will be commander,
hecan detect nothing right in the cabinet
at home, and talks in good set terms of
regiments idling at home which might
have contributed to victoi'ies abroad.
Strong beginnings, he assures us, very

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

225

sententiously, make campaigns short and
decisive.

The Waverley Novels — The Allot,
Vol. XX. — The explanatory introduc-
tion is occupied not now in communicat-
ing any details as to the origin of the
" Abbot," or its object, or again, in ob-
viating and defending, as was the case
with the " Monastery ;" but with a state-
ment or suggestion of the motives,
which on its first appearance prompted
a speedier publication than usual. The
Monastery and the Abbot were but
parts of one subject, and of course less
time was spent in search of a new story.
But the author — considering the Mon-
astery in some respects as a failure,
though he had no serious alarms of any
fatal or permanent effects upon his po-
pularity, thought it good policy to hasten
to fetch up his lee-way. Not to advance
was in some sort to recede, and he felt
it to be of some importance still to
shew by a fresh and more successful
effort, that the failure was rather the
effect of an ill-chosen subject than an
ill-managed story. He was not, as he
says, in his own happy way, one of
those, like fashionable publishers by the
way, who are willing to suppose the
brains of an author are a kind of milk
which will not stand above a single
creaming, and of course did not despair.
In sending the Abbot forth so soon
after the Monastery, as he did, he acted
like Bassanio,

In my school days, when I had lost one shaft,
I shot another of the self-same flight,
The self-same way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth.

and he succeeded — the scene between
Mary, Lindsey, Iluthven and Melville,
is equal to any thing ever painted —
spun out as it is. We are right glad to
learn, that the profits of this progressing
edition have relieved the author from
his most vexatious embarrassments.

Cabinet Cyclopaedia, Vol. XIV— The
subject of this volume of the Cabinet
Cyclopaedia is a discourse on the study
of Natural Philosophy, and of all the
discourses, and there are scores of them,
on this especial topic, we know none
that can at all compete with Mr. Her-
schell's, for distinct views, specific
statements, and above all for easy and
appropriate illustration. Nothing so
intelligible or so accessible to the com-
mon sense of plain folks was to be anti-
cipated from agentleman who was before
known only — except among his friends
for his excellent doings in the Encyclo-
paedia Metropolitana — as a dry mathema-
tician, an observer of stars and calcula-
tor of positions. The advantages of the
study of physics are dwelt upon, not
forgetting, en passant, the self-gratifica-

M.M.New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 62.

tion of the student — principally on the
first division, as being applicable to the
practical purposes of life and influencing
the well-being and progress of society,
and moreover, as capable of being use-
fully prosecuted without any very pro-
found acquaintance with abstract science
—the great bug-bear of all general and
gentle readers. The importance^ of
positive experience — the great principle
and protection of physical science, and
the effect of adhering to rules built upon
it, constitute the second division , while
the third takes a survey of the distinct
branches of physics and their mutual
relations, bringing down the historv of
science to the latest period, for nothing
of any importance, in any branch, has
escaped his vigilant eye. The discourse
deserves, and will no doubt receive, the
fullest attention from numbers who are
new to the subjects. It is the most ex-
citing volume of the kind we ever met
with, and cannot fail of essentially pro-
moting the sovereignty of science, by
bringing new volunteers within its
realms.

Constable's Miscellany. — Conquest of
Peru, by Don T. De Trueba. — The story
of the conquest of Peru is better told
than that of Mexico by the same writer,
and is indeed in itself a more extraor-
dinary tale, presenting more varied
materials a wider range — a more com-
plicated struggle, to animate the exer-
tions of the historian. The interest is
made, we think, to turn too exclusively
upon the quarrels and wars of the Pi-
zarros with the Almagros. The con-
duct and condition of the Peruvians,
their manners and habits and tactics, are
all comparatively thrown in the back
ground. The elder Pizarro gets a little
white-washed ; and doubtless, though
an unlicked soldier, he exhibited quali-
ties, which must always command, how-
ever vilely directed, the admiration of
man — perseverance in the teeth of the
most appalling obstacles, contempt of
peril and personal suffering, unconquer-
able firmness, readiness of expedient,
and unhesitating decision, in the execu-
tion of an object, which astounds by its
magnitude. The narrative is carried
on to the execution of Gonzalvo Pizar-
ro ; and certainly the most interesting
portion and the best executed is the pro-
gress of the wily priest Lagasca, who
accomplished the destruction of the Pi-
zarro faction, by means apparently so
utterly inadequate to so violent a con-
summation. The career of Lagasca is
unique in the annals of diplomatic craft
and insidious warfare.

The Romance of History, France, by
Leilch Ritchie, 3 vols. 12wo. — Mr. Ritchie
has thrown some spirit and variety
into Ms romances, and told them with

2 G

226

Monthly Review of Literature.

[FEB.

a laudable but somewhat pedantic refer-
ence to the times, and recorded cha-
racteristics of national manners ; he has
plunged into French libraries — forgotten
the cast and tone of his own land's tales,
and caught up at the same time the
gaiety and vivacity of the people he
writes about. The series begins with
a story of one of Charlemagne's daugh-
ters, who — the cunning virago ! earned
her lover on her own shoulders through
the snow to prevent the appearance of a
man's footsteps through the court-yard ;
and concludes with the tale of Madame
de Maintenon, which has in it as much
of the real romance of history as even
that in later days of Josephine.
In conformity with the practice of his

predecessors, Mr. Ritchie has introduced
the tales with historical summaries, and
his are admirable in their way. He
takes an ironical tone, and often reminds
us of the shrewdness and sarcasm of
Voltaire, as well as occasionally of his
levity. The author is capable of throw-
ing a very useful, because independent
and enlightened glance upon historical
character and incident ; and might, with
a prospect of doing some service, bend
his efforts in that direction. Three-
fourths of our heavy history is written
as if the writers believed the rulers of
mankind thought of anything but the
interests of themselves, and the orders,
parties, factions or sects which supported
their authority.

FINE ARTS' PUBLICATIONS.

WE can give little more than a list of
a portion ot the contents of the seventh,
eighth, and ninth parts of The English
School, a work of great beauty and utility.
It comprises, among others, Stothard's
Creation of Eve, Hogarth's March to
Finchley, West's Regulus, Kidd's
Poacher Detected, Bacon's Monument
to Chatham, StephanofPs Visit to Rich
Relations, West's Lear, Clint's Scene
in the Merry Monarch (injudiciously
chosen, because the effect depends upon
portrait and individual expression, which
are here impossible), Wilkie's Jew's
Harp, Opie's Death of Rizzio, Gains-
borough's Cottage Children (Fuseli's
Oberon seems to have been accidentally
omitted in the copy before us), and
lastly, Wilson's Cicero at his Villa.
These outlines are executed with sin-
gular precision, and the effect in many
instances is very curious and pleasing.
Brief criticisms and explanations, in
French and English, are appended by
Mr. Hamilton. We leave the work to
be appreciated, as it must be, by all
lovers of art, whether here or elsewhere.
Every outline is at least a memorandum
of something which no one, having once
seen, could wish to forget.

The Views in the East lose none of
their u original brightness " by repeti-
tion ; part the fifth being as brilliant as
part the first. Here is another view of
Benares, " taken from the upper part of
the city, looking down the Ganges," not
equal in variety to the last, but very
light and pleasing. It is executed by
Boys and Heath. The next is the Cave
of Karli, beautifully executed, and
strikingly curious in itself : this is by
Cattermole and J. Bishop. The third,
and perhaps the " most pleasing," is
El Wuish, a little harbour on the north
coast of the Red Sea, in which the

engraver (Goodall) has given the bright-
est possible effect to the pencil of
Stanfield. The boats, boatmen, sails
and water, are all the " gay creatures "
of his own peculiar element ; the moun-
tains are less delightful to look upon — •
for where nature has done nothing, art
cannot be expected to do much. The
descriptive accompaniments comprise
considerable information.

Here is a number, the twenty -first
of the National Portrait Gallery, which
contains two remarkable portraits of
celebrated men ; one of the Marquis of
Anglesey, an exquisitely soft and finish-
ed engraving, by S. Freeman, from
Lawrence's picture ; the other, of Capt.
Sir John Franklin, by Thomson, from a
picture by Derby. The contrast between
the naval and the military hero is cu-
rious, and the engravings come very
properly into the same number. Of the
portrait of Lord Anglesey, as regards
resemblance, we cannot judge, but the
expression is at once mild and severe,
with a character of decision and simpli-
city which is faithful we should think to
the original : it is Lord Anglesey in
repose. That of Sir John Franklin is
an excellent likeness, but nota favourable
one; and the engraver has so misma-
naged his " lights and darks " as to give
almost a mulatto tint to a complexion
which, considering the changes and the
climates which the distinguished voyager
has encountered, is singularly delicate
and clear. The portrait of Lord Carlisle,
by Jackson and Dean, is among the best
of the series, and the biographies are
full of interest and anecdote.

The ninth part of the Waverley Land-
scape Illustrations contains two views by
Dewint, Kcnihvortli Castle and Jorvaulk
Abbey ; one by Daniell, Kirkwall ; and
one by Robson, Dunstafnage, "the

1831.]

Fine Arts' Publications.

227

original of Ardenvohr in the Legend of
Montrose." These views are executed
with the same taste and neatness that
have prevailed from the first number,

and which render them such desirable
accompaniments of the magical tomes
of the north.

WORKS IN THE PRESS AND NEW PUBLICATIONS.

WORKS IN THE PRESS.

The following are preparing for pub-
lication : —

By William and Mary Howitt : The
Book of the Seasons.

By Don T. De Trueba, author of the
Castilian, &c. : a satirical work, in three
volumes, called Paris and London.

By Nicholas Michell, Esq.: The
Siege of Constantinople ; a poem.

By a Contributor to the Principal
Periodicals of the Day : a volume called
The Twelve Nights.

By Sarah Hoare : Poems on Con-
chology and Botany; with plates and
notes.

By William Bennet, Author of " Pic-
tures of Scottish Scenes and Charac-
ter :" poems, entitled Songs of Solitude.

By the Rev. R. Warner, F.S.A. :
The Anti-Materialist ; a manual for
youth.

By Thomas Landseer, Author of
" Monkeyana," &c. : A series of Satanic
Sketches, in illustration of the leading
features of the Devil's Walk.

By James Bird, Author of " The
Vale of Slaughden :" A poem, historical
and descriptive, called Framlingham ;
a Narrative of the Castle.

By William Rae Wilson, Esq.v,
F.S. A. : Travels in the Holy Land ;
with letters from foreign sovereigns on
the Protestant Faith.

The Cameleon; a collection of ori-
ginal essays, tales, sketches, and poems.

The Rose; a collection of the best
English songs.

By the Rev. W. Foster, M.A. : Ex-
amples in Algebra.

By the Author of the Templars:
An historical novel called Arthur of
Britanny.

By Mr. Booth, Author of " the Ana-
lytical Dictionary :" The Principles of
English Composition.

By Mr. Roberts : The Welsh Inter-
preter ; containing a concise vocabu-
lary, and useful phrases.

By N. H. Nicolas : A Refutation of
Mr. Palgrave's Remarks on the Obser-
vations of the State of Historical Li-
terature.

By the same Author: The Privy
Purse Expences of Elizabeth of York,
and the Wardrobe Accounts of Edward
the Fourth.

By J. W. Thomas : A Popular Sketch
of the History of Poland.

Observations on the Present Defec-
tive State of English Timber; the
causes which retard its growth, &c.

By Col. Bouchette: A work on the
British Dominions in North America,
and on Land-granting and Emigration,
&c.

By the Author of Headlong Hall : A
volume entitled Crotchet Castle.

LIST OF NEW WORKS.

BIOGRAPHY AND HISTORY.

Life of Lord Byron. Vol. II. By
Thomas Moore. 4to. £2. '2s.

Paris's Life of Sir Humphrey Davy,
Bart. 4to. £3. 3s.

Vol. XIX. Lives of the Most Emi-
nent British Painters. Vol. 3. 5s. By
Allan Cunningham.

Constable's Miscellany. Vol. LXIII.
The Achievements of the Knights of
Malta. Vol. 1. 3s. Cd. By Alexander
Sutherland, Esq.

Lardner's Cabinet Library. Military
Memoirs of the Duke of Wellington.
2 vols. By Capt. Moyle Sherer. Vol. I.
5s.

f Cartoniensia, or a Historical and Cri-
tical Account of the Tapestries in the
Palace of the Vatican. By the Rev.
W. Gunn. 8s. 6d.

The Poll for Two Knights of the
Shire for the County of Cambridge.

1830. By Thomas Allen. 8vo. 5s.
Strictures on Certain Passages of Na-
pier's History of the Peninsular War,
which relate to the Military Opinions
and Conduct of Gen. Lord Beresford.
8vo. 4s. 6d.

LAW.

Woodfall's Laws of Landlord and
Tenant. By S. B. Harrison. Royal
8vo. £1. 11s 6d.

Chitty's Equity Index, corrected to

1831. 2 vols. Royal 8vo. £3. 13. 6d.
Selwyn's Nisi Prius. 2 vols. Royal

8vo. £1. 18s.

Exchequer Practice Epitomised. By
an Attorney. 8vo. 6s.

Bennett's Practice of the Masters'
Office in Chancery. 8vo. 13s.

Surtees's Horseman's Manuel and
Law of Warrantry. 12mo. 5s.

Dax's Exchequer Practice. 8vo. ICs.

An Alphabetical Arrangement of all
the Clauses in the General Turnpike
Acts. By John Tasker. 12mo. 2s.

A Full Report of the Cambridge Toll

2 G 2

228

List of New Works.

[FEB.

Caues, to determine the right of the
Corporation of Cambridge to exact cer-
tain Tolls. 8vo. 10s.

Plain Advice to Landlords, Tenants,
Lodging-house Keepers, &c. 18mo. 2s.

A Familiar Summary of the Law of
Master and Servant, Apprentices, Jour-
neymen, Artificers, and Labourers.
18mo. 2s.

A Familiar Summary of the Law of
Bills of Exchange and Promissory Notes.
18mo. 2s. 6d.

The Laws Relating to Benefit So-
cieties and Saving Banks. 18mo. 2s. 6d.

MATHEMATICS.

An Introduction to the Differential
and Integral Calculus. Bv James
Thomson, LL.D., Professor of Mathe-
matics in Belfast College. 9s.

Elements of Plane and Spherical
Trigonometry, with the First Principles
of Analytic Geometry. By James
Thomson. 4s.

MEDICAL.

Observations on Mental Derange-
ment ; being an Application of the Prin-
ciples of Phrenology to the elucidation
of the Causes, and Treatment of In-
sanity. By Andrew Combe, M.D. 8vo.
7s. fid.

The First Principles of Medicine.
By Archibald Billing, M.D. 8vo. 6s.

Dr. Allison's Outlines of Physiology.
8vo. 12s.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Picture Exhibition. 18mo. 2s. 6d.

Juvenile Rambles through the Paths
of Nature. 18mo. 2s.

The Killarney Poor Scholar. 18mo.
2s. 6d. half bound.

The Excitement, or a Book to In-
duce Young People to Read. For 1831.
18mo. 4s. 6d. half bound.

Alfred Dudley. 12mo. 5s

Percival's Ancient History. 12mo. 5s.

The Freemason's Pocket Companion ;
containing a Brief Sketch of the History
of Freemasonry, &c. Royal 32mo. 2s.

Naval Researches. By Thomas
White, Capt. R.N. 8vo. 7s. 6d.

A Treatise on Naval Timber Marine
and Arboriculture. By Patrick Matthew.
8vo. 12s.

Observations on Fossil Vegetables.
By H. Witham. 8vo. 15s.

Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia, Vol.
XIV. ; A Preliminary Discourse on the
Study of Natural Philosophy. By J.
F. W. Herschel, Esq., A.M. Gs.

An Experimental Inquiry into the
Number and Properties of the Primary
Colours, and the Source of Colour in
the Prism. By Walter Crum, Esq.
Royal 8vo. 5s. 6d.

Remarks on the Proposed Railway
between London and Birmingham. By
Investigator. 8vo. 2s. 6d.

Times Telescope for 1831. 12mo. 5s.

A Discussion on Parliamentary Re-
form. By a Yorkshire Freeholder.
2s. 6d.

The Etymological Compendium, or
Portfolio of Origins and Inventions.
By Wm. Pulleyne 12mo. 6s.

Festive Games and Amusements, An-
cient and Modern. By Horace Smith,
Esq. 18mo. 5s.

The Art of Miniature Painting on
Ivory. By Arthur Parsey. I2mo.
7s. Gd.

London University Calendar. 4s.

Index Graecitatis yEschyleze. Studio
atque opera B.W.Beatson,*Collegii Pem-
brochiani apud Cantabrigienses Socii.
8vo. 12s.

NOVELS ANT) TALES.

The Temple of Melekartha. 3 vols.
Post 8vo. 27s.

The Turf, a Satirical Novel. 2 vols.
12mo. 15s.

Mothers and Daughters, a Novel.
3 vols. £1.1 Is. 6d.

Allan M'Dougal, or Scenes in the
Peninsula, a Tale. By a Military Officer.
3 vols. 12mo. 18s.

Scenes of Life and Shades of Charac-
ter. Edited by Alaric Watts. 2 vols.
Post 8vo. 21s.

The Family Album and Repertory of
Amusement and Instruction. 6s.

American Stories, for Little Boys and
Girls under Ten Years of Age ; col-
lected by Miss Mitford. 3 vols. 18mo.
10s. 6d. bound.

Maternal Duty, or the Armstrong
Family, with interesting Tales. By a
Lady. 3s.

POETRY.

The Messiah ; or, the Redemption of
Man : in Thirteen Books. By Edward
Strangways. 8vo. 10s. 6d.

Songs by the Ettrick Shepherd. 12mo.
7s.

The Sonnets of Shakspeare and Mil-
ton. 12mo. 4s.

The Beauties of Modern British
Poetry, systematically arranged. By
David Frant. 12mo. 7s. 6d.

The Daughter of Herodias, a Tra-
gedy. By H. Rich, Esq. 8vo. 6s.

The Shamrock, a Collection of Irish
Songs, with Notes. By Mr. Weekes.
2s. 6d.

The Thistle, a Collection of the best
Scottish Songs, with Notes. By Mr.
Donaldson. Is. 6d.

Lays from the East. By Robert C.
Campbell. 12mo. 6s.

RELIGION, MORALS, &C.

The Benefit and Necessity of the
Christian Sacraments. By William
James, A.M. 8vo. 8s. 6d.

A Manual of Religious Instruction for
the Young. By the Rev. Rob. Simp-
son. 18mo. 5s.

Sermons. By James Parsons, of
York. 8vo. 12s.

1831.]

List of Patents.

229

Sketches of the Danish Mission on
the Const of Coromandel. By the llev.
E. W. Grintield. 12mo. 3s'.

Observations on the Prophecies of
Daniel. By Sir Isaac Newton. With
Notes translated by P. Borthwick. 8vo.
10s.

A Help to Professing Christians in
judging their Spiritual State. By the
Rev. John Barr. 12mo. 4s. 6d.

Sunday Library ; or, the Protestant's
Manual for the Sabbath Day ; a Selec-
tion of Sermons by eminent Divines.
By the llev. T. F. Dibdin, D.D.
Vol. 1. Small 8vo. 5s.

The Parent's Guide to the Baptism

of his Children. By David Robertson,
Minister of the Gospel, Kilmours. 18mo.
3s. Cd.

The Olive Branch ; a Religious An-
nual for 1831. 32mo. 4s. half bound.

VOYAGES AND TRAVELS.

Family Library ; Vol. XVIII. Voy-
ages and Adventures of the Companion
of Columbus. By Washington Irving.

Sketches of Buenos Ayres, Chili, and
Peru. By Samuel Hai'gh, Esq. 8vo.
12s.

Journal of a Nobleman ; comprising
an Account of his Travels, and a Nar-
rative of his Residence at Vienna during
the Congress. 2 vols. 21s.

PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.

New Patents sealed in January, 1831.

To Daniel Papps, Stanley End, King
Stanley, Gloucester, machine maker, for
certain improvements in machinerv for
dressing or roughing woollen cloth. —
December 23rd; 2 months.

To William Wood, Summer Hill,
Northumberland, Newcastle-upon-Tyne,
for the application of a battering-ram, to
the purpose of working coals in mines. —
December 23rd ; 4 months.

To Marie Elizabeth Antoinette Per-
tius, No. 50, Rue du Bac, Paris, spinster,
for the fabrication and preparation of a
coal fitted for refining and purifying
sugar, and other matters.— December
23rd ; C months.

To John Ferrabee, Thrupp Mill and
Foundry, Stroud, Gloucester, engineer,
for improvements in the machinery for
preparing the pile or face of woollen or
other cloths, requiring such a process. —
December 23rd ; 6 months.

To John Blackwell and Thomas Al-
cock, Claines, Worcester, machine ma-
kers, and lace or bobbin-net manufac-
turers, for certain improvements in
machines or machinery for making lace,
commonly called bobbin-net. — January
13th; C months.

To Samuel Seaward, of the Canal Iron
Works, All Saints, Poplar, Middlesex,
engineer, for an improvement or im-
provements in apparatus for economiz-
ing steam, and for other purposes, and
the application thereof to the boilers of
steam-engines employed on board pac-
ket-boats, and other vessels.— January
15th ; 6 months.

To William Parker, Albany-street,
Regent Park, Middlesex, gentleman,
for certain improvements in preparing
animal charcoal. — January 15th ; 4
months.

To John and George Rodgers, Shef-
field, York, cutlers, and Thomas Fel-
lows, junior, New Cross, Deptford, Kent,
gentleman, for an improved skate. —
January 18th ; 2 months.

To Andrew Smith, Princes- street,
Leicester-square, Middlesex, engineer,
for certain improvements to machinery
for propelling boats and other vessels on
water, and in the manner of constructing
boats or vessels, for carrying such ma-
chinery.— January 22nd ; 6 months.

To John Gottlieb Ulrich, Nicholas-
lane, London, chronometer-maker, for
certain improvements in chronometers —
January 22nd ; 18 months.

To Charles Mepham Hannington,
Nelson-square, Surrey, gentleman, for
an improved apparatus for impressing,
stamping or printing, for certain pur-
poses.— January 22nd ; 6 months.

To Louis Schwabe, Manchester, for
certain process and apparatus for pre-
paring, beaming, printing, and weaving
yarns of cotton, linen, silk, woollen and
other fibrous substances, so that any de-
sign, device or figu-:?, printed on such
yarn, may be preserved, when such yarn
is woven into cloth, or other fabric. —
January 22nd ; 6 months.

List of Patents which having been granted

in the month of January, 1817, expire

in the present month of January., 1831.

10. John Raffield, London, improved
fire -stove.

20. William Marton, London, im-
proved carriage-spring.

23. Joseph de Cavaillon, London, im-
proved method of clarifying sugar, fyc-

23. Robert Dickinson, London, im-
proved way of making roads.

23. Daniel Wilson, Dublin, improved
process of boiling and refining sugar.

[ 230 ] [FEB.

BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS.

HENRY MACKENZIE, ESQ.

Henry Mackenzie, " the Addison of the
North," was the son of Dr. Joshua Mac-
kenzie, of a distinguished branch of the
ancient family of the Mackenzies of the
north of Scotland. He was born in the
year 1745, or 1746— we believe the former.
After receiving a liberal education, he de-
voted himself to the law ; and, in 1766, he
became an attorney in the Scottish Court of
Exchequer. Ultimately his practice in
that court produced him about £800 a year ;
he become comptroller-general of taxes for
Scotland, with a salary of £600 a year ; and,
altogether, his annual income was upwards
of £2,000.

When very young, Mr. Mackenzie was
the author of numerous little pieces in
verse ; and, though of a kind and gentle
temper, the credit which he enjoyed for
wit induced him occasionally to attempt
the satiric strain. It was, however, in ten-
derness and simplicity — in the plaintive
tone of the elegy — in that charming fresh-
ness of imagery which belongs to the pas-
toral, that he was seen to most advantage.
He next aspired to the novel — the senti-
mental and pathetic novel; and, in 1768
or 1769, in his hours of relaxation from
professional employment, he wrote, what
has generally been considered his master-
piece, The Man of Feeling. At first,
the booksellers declined its publication,
even as a gratuitous offering; but difficul-
ties were at length surmounted — the book
appeared anonymously— and the warmest
enthusiasm was excited in its favour. The
ladies of Edinburgh, like those of Paris on
the appearance of La Nouvelle Heloise,
all fancied themselves with the author. But
the writer was unknown ; and a Mr. Eccles,
a young Irish clergyman, was desirous of
appropriating his fame to himself. He ac-
cordingly was at the pains of transcribing
the entire work, and of marking the manu-
script with erasures and interlineations, to
give it the air of that copy in which the au-
thor had wrought the last polish on his
piece before sending it to the press. Of
course, this gross attempt at deception was
not long successful. The Man of Feeling
was published in 1771; and the eclat with
which its real author was received, when
known, induced him, in the same, or fol-
lowing year, to adventure the publication of
a poem entitled The Pursuit of Happi-
ness.

Mr. Mackenzie's next production was
The Man of the World ; a sort of second
part of The Man of Feeling; but, like
most second parts, continuations, sequels,
&c., it was, though clever and interesting,
inferior to its predecessor. Dr. Johnson,
despising and abhorring the fashionable
whine of sensibility, treated the work with
far more asperity than it deserved.

Julia de Roubigne, a novel, in the epis-
tolary form, was the last work of this class
from the pen of Mr. Mackenzie. It is ex-
tremely elegant, tender, and affecting ; but
its pathos has a cast of sickliness, and the
mournful nature of the catastrophe produces
a sensation more painful than pleasing on
the mind of the reader.

In 1773, Mr. Mackenzie produced a
tragedy under the title of The Prince of
Tunis, which, with Mrs. Yates as its he-
roine, was performed with applause, for six
nights at the Edinburgh Theatre. Of three
other dramatic pieces by Mr. Mackenzie,
the next was The Shipwreck, or Fatal Cu-
riosity. This was an alteration and ampli-
fication of Lilly's horrible but rather cele-
brated tragedy of Fatal Curiosity, sug-
gested by a perusal of Mr. Harris's Philolo-
gical Essays, then recently published. Some
new characters were introduced with the view
of exciting more sympathy with the calami-
ties of the Wilmot family. Rather unfortu-
nately, Mr. Colman had, about the same
time, taken a fancy to alter Lilly's play. His
production was brought out at the Hay-
market, in 1782 ; and Mr. Mackenzie's at
Covent Garden, in 1?83 or 1784.— The
Force of Fashion, a comedy, by Mr. Mac-
kenzie, was acted one night at Covent Gar-
den Theatre, in 1789 ; but, from its failure,
it was never printed. The object of this
piece was to ridicule those persons who
effect fashionable follies and vices, «while in
reality they despise them. Its language was
elegant ; but its characters, though not ill-
drawn, wanted novelty ; and, altogether, its
deficiency in stage effect was palpable. Ano-
ther unsuccessful comedy of Mr. Macken-
zie's, mentioned in Campbell's History of
Poetry in Scotland, was The White Hypo-
crite , produced at Covent Garden in the
season of 1788-9.

Turning back to the year 1767, we find
that Mr. Mackenzie then married Miss
Pennel Grant, sister of Sir James Grant, of
Grant, by whom he had a family of eleven
children.

About ten or twelve years afterwards, he
and a few of his friends, mostly lawyers,
who used to meet occasionally, for convivial
conversation, at a tavern kept by M.
Bayll, a Frenchman, projected the publica-
tion of a series of papers on morals, man-
ners, taste and literature, similar to those
of the Spectator. This society, originally
designated The Tabernacle, but afterwards
The Mirror Club, consisted of Mr. Mac-
kenzie, Mr. Craig, Mr. Cullen, Mr. Ban-
natine, Mr. Macleod, Mr. Abercrombie, Mr.
Solicitor-General Blair, Mr. George Home,
and Mr. George Ogilvie ; several of whom
afterwards became judges in the supreme
Courts of Scotland. Of these, Mr., now
Sir William Bannatine, a venerable and
accomplished gentleman of the old school,

1831.]

Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.

231

is now the only survivor. Their scheme was
speedily carried into effect ; and the papers,
under the title of The Mirror, of which
Mr. Mackenzie was the editor, were pub-
lished in weekly numbers, at the price of
threepence per folio-sheet. The sale never
reached beyond three or four hundred in
single papers; but the succession of the
numbers was no sooner closed, than the
whole, with the names of the respective
authors, were republishedin three duodecimo
volumes. The writers sold the copy -right ;
out of the produce of which they presented
a donation of £100 to the Orphan Hos-
pital, and purchased a hogshead of Claret
for the use of the Club.

To The Mirror succeeded The Lawyer,
a periodical of a similar character, and
equally successful. Mr. Mackenzie was
the chief and most valuable contributor to
each of these works.

On the institution of the Royal Society
of Edinburgh, Mr. Mackenzie became one
of its members ; and, amongst the papers
with which he enriched the volumes of its
transactions, are, an elegant tribute to the
memory of his friend Judge Abercrombie,
and a Memoir on German Tragedy; the
latter of which bestows high praise on the
Emilia Galotti of Lessing, and on The
Robbers, by Schiller. For this memoir he
had procured the materials through the me-
dium of a French work ; but desiring
afterwards to enjoy the native beauties of
German poetry, he took lessons in German
from a Dr. Okely, who was at that time
studying medicine at Edinburgh. The
fruits of his attention to German literature
appeared farther in the year 1791? in a
small volume containing translations of the
Set of Horses, by Lessing, and of two or
three other dramatic pieces.

In 1 793, Mr. Mackenzie edited a quarto
volume of Poems by the late Rev. Dr.
Thomas Blackloclc, together with An Essay
on the Education of the Blind, Qc. In
political literature, he was the author of a
Revietv of the Proceedings of the Parlia-
ment, which met first in the year ] 784, and
of a series of Letters under the signature
of Brutus. In all those exertions which,
during the war of the French revolution,
were found necessary to support the govern-
ment and preserve the peace of the county,
no person was more honourably or more use-
fully zealous.

Mr. Mackenzie was remarkably fond of
the rural diversions of fowling, hunting, and
fishing. In private life, his conversation
was ever the charm and the pride of so-
ciety.— He died at Edinburgh, his constant
residence, on the 14th of January, 1831.

THE PRINCE DE CONDE.

The Due de Bourbon, Prince de Conde,
and father of the Due D'Enghien, who was
executed — 'more correctly speaking, mur-
dered— at Vincenncs, by the command of
Buonaparte, in March 1804, was found

dead in his chamber, at the chateau of St.
Leu, on the 27th of August, under circum-
stances which leave it doubtful whether he
had died by his own hand, or that of an
assassin. The weight of evidence, how-
ever, strange as it may seem that he should
have committed suicide, is much in favour
of the former opinion.

This unfortunate Prince was born, we
believe, in the year 1756. He married an
aunt of Louis Philippe, the present King
of the French, who died suddenly in the
month of January 1822. Many years
since, he became attached to a handsome
young Englishwoman, a Miss Sophia
Dawes ; and, although she was afterwards
married to Colonel Baron de Feucheres, who
commanded a regiment in the late expedi-
tion against Algiers, the attachment between
her and the Prince is believed to have never
undergone a change. However, she and
her husband separated. A niece of Ma-
dame de Feucheres is married, by the
sanction of Charles X., to the Marquis de
Chabonnes; and, by this marriage (the
Marquis's next brother, the Count de Cha-
bonnes, having married Miss Ellis) Ma-
dame Feucheres is connected with the noble
families of Bristol, Liverpool, Seaford, and
Howard de Walden, in England ; and with
the Talleyrands and other distinguished fa-
milies in France.

The death of the Due d'Enghien had so
violent and enduring an effect on the Prince
his father, that, having no descendant left
to inherit his estates and honours, he uni-
formly refused to assume the title of Prince
de Conde, choosing to be addressed only as
the Due de Bourbon. For many years his
chief amusement and employment had been
hunting ; but after the departure of Charles
X. from Paris, he, in deference to public
opinion, determined to relinquish hunting
the boar, and to reduce his vast equipage de
chasse. His habits were simple, and he
was in perfect health the very day before his
death. It is understood that he contem-
plated the events of " the three days" with
much satisfaction ; and it has been asserted
that, on the evening previously to his de-
cease, he addressed a most affectionate letter
to the present King of the French.

Under such circumstances, it is astonish-
ing that he should have meditated suicide.
However, on the morning of August 27, he
was found dead, suspended by two handker-
chiefs from the window-bolt of his chamber.
The room had no private doors : its window
and its only door were securely fastened
within-side. It was necessary to employ
force to obtain entrance; and when the
Attorney-General of the Royal Tribunal
attended to investigate the circumstances of
the case, there was no appearance in the
apartment to sanction the belief that the
unfortunate Prince had died otherwise than
by his own hand. It is probable, therefore,
that the reports of an opposite character
since put into circulation, must have origi-

232 Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons. [FEB.

nated in sinister motives. That the Prince and estate of Boissy, and all their depen-
perpetrated the act in consequence of the dencies — 4th, the forest of Montmorency,
derangement of his pecuniary affairs, as was and all its dependencies — 5th, the chateau
at first insinuated, cannot be correct, for and estate of Morfontane, and its depen-
ahout 40,000 francs, in gold, had been in dencies — Gth, the pavilion occupied by
his secretaire for more than a twelvemonth ; Madame de Feucheres, at the Palais Bour-
and a million of francs, in notes, had re- bon, as well as its dependencies — 7th, the
cently been placed in his hands, by his furniture contained in this pavilion, and the
Intendant, Baron Surval, to meet any exi- horses and carriages appertaining to the
gencies that might arise from the political establishment of this lady, all free from
state of the country. charge and expenses chargeable on be-
By the reported will of the Due de Bour- queathed property. These various legacies
bon, Prince de Conde, dated on the 30th of to Madame Feucheres, are valued at twelve
August 1829, his whole fortune passes to or fifteen millions of francs. The surplus of
Henry Eugene Philippe D'Orleans, Due the property of the Prince de Conde, except
d* Aumale, and Dame Sophia Dawes, Ba- some private legacies, is left to the Due
roness of Feucheres. He has bequeathed — d' Aumale, third son of the King of the
1st, two millions of francs — 2d, the cha- French, as residuary legatee.
teau and park of St. Leu — 3d, the chateau

MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.

THE judicious and indispensable measures of the Government have fortu-
nately put an end to the unprincipled and destructive insurrections of the labour-
ing classes. Wherever the mobs were opposed, even by the most trifling force,
they were with little difficulty dispersed. These troubles of the past year have
been chiefly confined to the southern and most productive parts of England, where
rents moreover have been comparatively the lowest. The wary, discreet, and eco-
nomic Scot has been on roses, as regards our southern calamities, and a similar pro-
portion of fortune has attended nearly the whole of the northern English border.
Wales, so far as information has reached us, has been equally fortunate.

The rationale of the use of farming machinery appears to us to have been
grossly misunderstood, not only by the vulgar, but by many who would feel
nigh dudgeon at being so characterized. BURNS, once a laborious thresher, has
left the opinion upon record, that " the man who invented the threshing-machine,
well merited a statue of gold." It is the opinion of the most experienced judges,
that those machines are greatly and materially economical of the bread-corn of the
country ; and where they have been at all injurious to the interests of the pea-
santry, it must have arisen solely from the defective system of the earth's culture .
Shutting up able-bodied men in barns, swinging of flails, when they might, and
ought, to be so much more advantageously employed abroad, is surely neither for
their benefit, for that of their employers, or of the community ; and with respect
to the choice and good-liking of the men, we, who have so long known them, have
never discovered in them a predilection for barn-labour.

The weather, since our last, has continued thoroughly English, the wind chop-
ping about from east to west, and from north to south, in the veritable style of a
merry-go-round. However, its chief and favourite residence, during a considerable
time past, has been in the east, and from north-east to south-east, with the accom-
paniment of fogs and drizzling rains, giving us hopes of a course of mild and balmy
south-westers in the spring. Our aged bones yearn (cum liccntia) for so desirable
a consummation. Accounts from the country are yet nearly unanimous, malgre.
fogs and dirt, and drizzle, in favour of the weather throughout, as propitious to all
the operations of husbandry, and alike " healthful to man and beast." During the
short continuance of the frost, and where there was a sufficient cover of snow, the
forward wheats were favourably checked in their luxuriance, and the young wheats,
winter-vetches, and turnips, so far protected. The wheats generally appear healthy,
but are not forward ; and even in parts of the most fertile districts, the latter sown
were scarcely visible a week or two past, in fact, more backward than those of the
last crop at the same period. The late protracted harvest, and the subsequent
troubles considered, our national husbandry is to the full as forward as could be
rationally expected. Cattle improved much throughout the autumns, but the old
concomitant complaint of no profit from grazing, is as ripe as heretofore. Should
the turnips run, and running rot, during the present warm and moist weather,
much distress will be felt for cattle and sheep-food in the spring ; and then the
general recourse will be to artificial food, and our beef, mutton, lamb, and veal (bar
pork) will be impregnate with oil-cake, to the annoyance of all delicate stomachs.
Much apprehension is entertained prospectively on the enhancement of price in
these same cakes, which (under the rosej we should rejoice to see at a guinea per
pound. Grass and corn-fed meat, as in days of yore, for old England ! The

1831.] Agricultural Report. 233

turnips, at the utmost, will not average at more than half a crop ; the quality of
the best, inferior ; those on heavy and improper soils, worthless. The last wheat
crop, as to quantity, seems yet descending in the scale. All seeds failed. It is a
speculation, we trust an erroneous one, that the spring crops may not, in the ulti-
mate, prove so abundant as has been generally prognosticated. The farmers of dry
and sound, if poor land, did well last year, both with their corn and cattle ; neverthe-
less, complaints of the exorbitance of rents and tithe are universal, whilst the mania,
for farming is so epidemic, that on notice of an estate to be let, the competition is
usually so strong, that a higher rent is obtained than even a proprietor could pos-
sibly contemplate in times like the present. This information we received a few
days since, from a country friend and witness of the fact in various instances.
From some quarters, but in none of which we have personal knowledge, we hear of
rents as high as those of 1800 ; and also of an unfortunate demur as to the pro-
mised advance of labourers' wages, on the allegation, that the tenantry are unable
to fulfil the engagement, independently of the aid of their landlords. The allow-
ance of small portions of land for the labourers, has ever proved successful, and
ever must be so, from the very nature of things ; but under the present defective
system, or even perhaps under any system of culture, it will be found impossible to
keep down the surplus, such a perpetual tendency subsists to the increase of popu-
lation. Whatever may be said of emigration, men had far better become industrious
and thriving colonists, than starvelings and rioters at home ; but though we can
afford to build magnificent churches, splendid palaces, playhouses, and squares, we
have not the means, it would seem, of exportation for this most valuable species of
live stock. The rot in sheep continues to spread far and wide, even upon land
hitherto unsuspected, and has proved the utter ruin of many small farmers. The
long continuance of moist weather is the cause, and the remedy can only be ex-
pected from a change. The prices of all produce seem on the advance. The stocks of
wheat, whether in this country or upon the continent, have not been so reduced, dur-
ing many years, as at present. In America, they have been more fortunate, and con-
siderable supplies, if needed, may be obtained from thence. The quality of all
grain, in Scotland and Ireland, is reported as particularly inferior.

Smithfield — Beef, 3s. to 4s. 6d. — Mutton, 3s. to 4s. 6d — Veal, 5s. to 5s. 8d.—
Pork, 4s. 2d. to 5s. 4d.— Rough fat, 2s. lOd.

Corn Exchange.— Wheat, 60s. to 84s. — Barley, 32s. to 50s — Oats, 21s. to 34s. —
London 41b. loaf, lOd — Hay, 40s. to 100s.— Clover ditto, 55s. to 110s.— Straw,
30s. to 40s.

Coals in the Pool, 29s. to 38s. per chaldron.

Middlesex, Jan. 2lst. .. . .

MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.

SUGAR. — Muscovadoes have been in general and rather extensive demand; in
the refined market there is little alteration in prices ; the mild state of the weather
promises an early spring trade. The sale of crushed has been very limited, but
no alteration in price has taken place ; fine descriptions entitled to the double
refined bounty are still inquired after, but the offers are rather under the quota-
tions, for which the refiners are at present holding — East India Sugar. The Man-
nillais a shade lower, the White Siam, 21s. to 25s. ; low to good white soft China fine
yellow, 13s. 6d. to 21s. which is Gd. to Is. lower. Foreign sugar. The purchases bv
private contract are parcels of brown to low yellow ; Havannah, 21s. to 23s. ; 170
chests white Pernamlow, to good white, 2Gs. Gd. taken for refining.

COFFEE — .There has been extensive purchases by private contract. In foreign
and East India Coffee, at rather higher prices ; for St. Domingo, 35s. fid. has been
paid ; good old Havannah, 33s. to 36s. ; fine old, 3Gs. Gd. to 37s. Gd. ; old Batavia,
31s. Gd. to 33s. Gd. The Jamaica Coffee is steady in price ; Demerara and Berbice
Coffee, dull ; East India Coffee, sold Is. higher ; good Ceylon, 34s. to 35s. ; old
Sumatra, 28s. to 28s. Gd. The market is firm. British plantation same as usual.

RUM, BRANDY, HOLLANDS — The transactions have been more extensive this
week, owing to the rapid advance of the Corn Market. The chief purchases are
still in Leewards proofs, at Is. 9^d. and 5s. over, at; Is. and 10s. In Brandy and
Geneva there is no alteration ; Jamaica Rums are held for higher prices.

HEMP, FLAX, TALLOW — The Tallow Market remains very steady. In Flax
and Hemp there is no alteration. Stock of Tallow in London — 1830: 38-295. —

1831: 51-048 — Delivery weekly— 1830 : 1-5G1 1831: 1-175.— Price Mondays—

1830 : 34s. to 34s. 6d.— 1831 : 47s. 3d.

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. 62. 2 H

234

Commercial Report.

[FEB.

Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 1. — Rotterdam, 12. 1£ Hamburgh,

13. 12. Altona, 0. 0.— Paris, 25. 30 — Bordeaux, 25. 60 — Frankfort, 152. 0.

— Petersburg, 10. 0.— Vienna, 10. 11 — Trieste, 0. 0 — Madrid, 36. Of. — Cadiz,
36. Of.— Bilboa, 36. Of.— Barcelona, 36. 0.— Seville, 36. 0^.— Gibraltar, 49. 0£.—
Leghorn, 49. OJ.— Genoa, 26. 70.— Venice, 46. 0.— Malta, 46. 0.— Naples, 38. OJ.
—Palermo, 117. 0. — Lisbon, 46.0. — Oporto, 46. 0£. — Rio Janeiro, 0. 0. — Bahia,
25. 0.— Dublin, 1. 0^.— Cork, 1. 0£.

Bullion per Oz — Portugal Gold in Coin, £0. Os. Od. — Foreign Gold in Bars
£3. 17s. 9£d.— New Doubloons, £0. Os. Od.— New Dollars, £0. 4s. 9.id.— Silver in
Bars (standard), £0. Os. Od.

Premiums on Shares and Canals, and Joint Stock Companies, at the Office of
WOLFE, Brothers, 23, Change Alley, Cornhill. — Birmingham CANAL, (A sh.) 270/. — •
Coventry, 850J. — Ellesmere and Chester,73/. — Grand Junction,240i/ — Kennet and
Avon, 25£/.~ Leeds and Liverpool, 400/.-Oxford, 00/.~ltegent's, 184*.— Trent and
Mersey, (i sh.) 6001. — Warwick and Birmingham, 280/. — London DOCKS (Stock)
001.— West India (Stock), 001.— East London WATER WORKS, 120/.— Grand
Junction, 49/ — West Middlesex, 72/. — Alliance British and Foreign INSURANCE,
8i/.— Globe, OO/.— Guardian, 24|/.— Hope Life, 5|J.— Imperial Fire, 97/.- GAS-
LIGHT Westminster Chartered Company, 52^.— City, 19 1/.— British, 1£ dis—
Leeds, J9W.

ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BANKRUPTCIES,

Announced from December 23rf, to January 23e?, 1831, in the London Gazette.

BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED.

C. Copland, jun., Leeds, spirit-merchant.

J. Taylor, Carlisle, wine-merchant.

W. Leeson, jun., Nottingham, hosier.

K. Harrold, Wolverhampton, cotton-spinner.

T. Pierse, Belle-Isle, training-groom.

J- Oldland, Wootton-under-Edge, clothier.

BANKRUPTCIES.
[This Month 110.]

Solicitors' Names are in Parentheses.

Benyon, J., Scarborough, draper. {Ashurst,

Newgate-street.
Blinman, T., Bristol, hrazier. (Meredith and

Co., Lincoln's-inn ; Osborne and Co., Bristol.
Barber, B., Chorley, victualler. (Walmsley and

Co., Chancery-lane; Barratt, Manchester.
Baldwin, E., Manningham, worsted-spinner

(Walter Symond's-inn ; Tolson, Bradford.
Botcherley, J., Darlington, linen-mannfacturer.

(Mewburn, Walbrook ; Mewbury, Darlington.
Baker, F., Creekraore, iron-founder. (Stephens,

Doughty-street; Castlemar and Sons, Wim-

borne.

Beet, C. G., Stamford-street, bill-broker. (Bow-
den, Southwark.

Bloom, A., Basinghall-street, tea-dealer. (Cros-
by, Bueklersbtiry.
Botcherley, J., Bethnal-green, dyer. (Ashton,

Old Broad-street.
Burt, \V. A., Christchureh, coal-merchant.

(Waugh, Great James-street.
Bedwell, . J., London-road, bed-maker. (Gunner,

Great James-street.
Btickland, J., sen.^ and J. Bnr.kland, jun., Dept-

ford, linen-drapers. (Hutchinson and Co.,

Crown-court.
Brough, P., Boston, scrivener. (Hall and Co.,

Serjeant's-inn,
Cuming, G., Bedford-place, timber-merchant.

(Burford, Muscovy-court.
Cockshaw, A , Leicester, stationer. (Taylor,

John-street ; Dalby, Leicester.
Chailton, C. P , Stourton, dealer. (Jones, Cros-

by-equare ; Helling, Bath.
Crisp, J., Colchester, butcher. (Bignold and Co.,

Bridge-street : Sarjeant and Co., Colchester.
Colien, G.A., Mile-end-road, merchant. (Yatcs

and Co., Bury-streef.

Cue, C., Gloucester, hatter. (Capes, Gray's-inn ;
Kay and Co. Manchester.

Chandler, T., Bow-lane, carpenter. (Payne and
Co., Aldermanbury.

Chapman, J., Wisheach, ironmonger. (Simcox,
Birmingham ; Watson, Wisbeach.

Cherry, J., Coventry, paiuter. (Rye, Golden-
square.

Cleaver, H., Market Lavington, linen-draper.
(Williams, Gray's-inn ; Wall, Devizes.

Coates, W., Leeds, grocer. (Smithson and Co.,
New-inn.

Doubleday, W., Manchester, tea-dealer. (Ches-
ter, Staple's-inn ; Gandy, Liverpool.

Evans, G., Ketley, grocer. (Bigg, Southampton-
buildings ; Nock, Wallington.

Elliott, J., Holloway, carpenter. (Pocock, Bar-
tholomew-close.

Evennett, B., Fleet-street, hat-dealer. (Howard,
Norfolk-street.

Earle, G. and C., Great St. Thomas Apostle,
wine-merchants. (Piercey and Co., Southwark,

Earle, W. F. B., Regent-street, auctioneer.
(Wright, Bucklersbury.

Field, W., Brighton, carpenter. (Patten and Co.,
Hatton garden.

Gear, S., Nottingham, fishmonger. (Taylor, Fea-
therstone-buildings ; Payne and Co., Notting-
ham.

Grant, E., jun., Oxford, cornfactor. (Robinson
and Co., Charter-house-square ; Dudley, Ox-
ford,

Gevard, W., Frome, grocer. (Swain and Co., Old
Jewry.

G;ll, G., Uxbridge, linen-draper. (Loxley and
Co.,Cheapside} Fry, Uxbridge.

Goodwin, J., Congleton, grocer. (Coles, Ser-
jeant's-inn.

Hales, W. Wem, cabinet-maker. (Plrilpot and
Co., Southampton-street; Burley and Co.,
Shrewsbury.

Hardwick, J.. Cheltenham, carpenter. (White,
Lincoln's-inn ; Whatley, jun., Cirencester.

Hayllar, J., Brighton, horse-dealer. (Heathcote,
Colman street.

Houghton, M.,Ipsley, grocer. (Lowndes and Co.,
Red-lion-sqnare ; Cresswall, Redditch.

Hemstcd, W. and J., Bury and Sudbury, linen-
drapers. (Bowden and Co., Aldermanbury.

Hook, J., Nicholas-lane, merchant. (Chilcote,
Walbrook.

Harland, H., Fell-street, livery-stable-keeper.
(Fawcet, Jewin-street.

1831.3

List of Bankrupts.

235

Harris, W., Bristol, «lk-mercer. (Bridge and
Co., Red-lion-square ; Hare and Co., Bristol.

Harnett, E., Wapping, eoal-mei client. (Badde-
ley, Leman-street.

Hill, O. J., Camberwell, oil-man. (Fysen and
Co.

Hehir.J., jun., Leigh, baker. (Smith, Basing-
ball-strect ; Parker and Co., Worcester.

Hooper, R., St. Philip and Jacob, malster.
(Brittan, Basinghall-street.

Harrington, J., Stanway, victualler. (Hall and
Co., Salters'-hall,

Isles, F., King-street, draper. (Asburst, New-
gale-street.

Ironside, A., Louth, nurseryman. (Shaw, Ely-
place ; Wilson, Louth.

Izon, T., Handsworth, merchant. (Austen and
Co., Gray's-inn.

Jackson, A. C., Horsolydown, coal-merchant.
(Rottpubury, 1 lorselydown.

Jones, E., Canterbury, grocer. (Stevens and Co.,
Little St. Thomas'Apostle.

Jones, D., Gwyddalwern, victualler. (Jones,
Crosby-square ; Anvvyl, Balu.

Key, J., Great Prescott-street, general mercbant.
(Rippingham, Great Prescott street

Lamb, G. P., Somers-town, cheesemonger. (Hnn-
nington and Co., Cavey-lane.

Lyon, A. and C. N. Jacob, Birmingham and Lon-
don, dealers. (Yates and Co., Bury-street.

Lee, T., Liverpool, cotton-dealer. (Dean, Pals-
grave-place; Gregoiy, Liverpool.

MMdleton, J. and H., Seven Oaks, upholders.
(Turnley, White-lion-court.

Minshull, J.,Stockport, victualler. (Dean, Pals-
grave-place ; Boothroyd and Co., Stockport.

Mottram, W., St. John-street, victualler. (Selby
Serjeant's-inn.

Meyer, H. L., Clement's-lane, merchant. (Kirk-
man and Co., Cannon-street.

Mills, W., Greenwich, linen-draper. (Street and
Co., Brabant-court.

May, J.,and P. Brodie, Fenchurch-street.tavern-

• keepers. (Williams and Co., Bedford-row.

Marshall, E., Liverpool, grocer. (Adlington and
Co., Bedford-row ; Maudsley, Liverpool.

Naish, F., Shepton Mallet, clothier. (Pope,
Gray's-inn,

Neale, W., Leicester, woolstapler. (Wirnburn
and Co., Chancery-lane ; Moore and Co., Lei-
cester.

Nyren, J. W., and W. Adam, Battersea, colour-
manufacturers. (Fyson and Co., Lothbury.

Nathan, N. and W., Mansell-street, quill-mer-
chants. ('Spyer, Broad-street-buildings.

Oakden, J., Kadsley, manufacturer. (Abbot and
Co.,Symond's-inn ; Welch, Ashhourne.

Patrick, J., F.and G., Brampton-en-le-Morthen,
malsters, (Taylor, John-street ; Badger, Ro-
therham.

Perkins H, T., Angel-conrt, scrivener. (Nokes,
Southampton-street

Pritchard, C., Bath,'upholsterer. (Frowd, Essex-
street ; Crittwell, Bath.

Parkin, J., Holehou.se Clougb, clothier. (Clarke,
and Co.. Lincoln's-inn-lields ; Whitehead and
Co., Hudderstield.

Pearson, J., Long Eaton, grocer. (Few and Co.,

>. Henrietta-street; Mousley and Co., Derby.

Plnckwell, H., Old -street-road, potatoe-dealer.

(Donne, Great Turner-street.
Roberts, M., Little Eastcheap, grocer. (Sandom,

punster-court.
Richardson, H.,Taunton, haberdasher. (Ashurst,

Newgate-street.
Royston, J., Manchester, innkeeper. (Adling-

ton and Co., Bedford row ; Boardman, Bolton.
Reterneyer, M., Aury-court, agent. CHutchinson

and Co., Crown-court.

Robertson, J., Berkhampstead, surgeon. (Wil-
liams and Co.,Lincoln's-inn-n'elds.
Ridout, W., Ringwood, linen-draper. (Holme

and Co., New-inn.
Southgate, S., Gate-street, builder. (Clare and

Co., Frederick's-place.
Stephenson, D., jun., and L. Mitchell, Dewsbury,

dealer. (Jacques and Co., Coleman-street ;

Archer and Co., Ossett.
Seaman, G., Clerkenwell, livery-stable-keeper.

(Forbes, Ely-place.
Stoddart, W., Freshford, cloth-manufacturer.

(Mounsey and Co., Staple-inn ; Watts and

Son, Bath ; Dixon,Cal(hwaite.
Storry, F. W., York, dealer. (Evans and Co.,

Gray's-inn ; Ord and Co., York.
Smi»h, T., Edsreware-road, coach- proprietor.

(Turnley, Lombard-street.

Simkin, G. R., R,edcross-street, grocer. (Han-
ley, Furnival's-inn.
Smith, G., jun., North Shields, master-mariner.

fLowry and Co., Pinner's-hall-court ; Lowrey,

North'Sbields.
Smith, W., Brick-lane, baker. (Simson, Cop-

thall-buildines.
Skipp, M., Commercial-road, iron-merchant.

fEvitt and Co., Hayden-square.
Shears, A., Friday-street, silk-warehouseman.

(Lloyd, Thavies-iiin.

Skinner, G., Aveley, grocer. (Lofty, King-street.
Teale, J., Quadrant, hardwareman. (Gem,

Chancery-lane.
Thorogood, W., Chipping-Ongar, victualler.

(Jager,-King's-place, Commercial-road.
Vine, T., Brighton, toyman. (Freeman and Co.,

Coleman-street.

Whitneld, R., Brixton, American-merchant.
Wilmshurst, T., Oxford-street, artist. (Joyes,

Chancery-lane.
Wright, W., Southwark, publisher. (Smith, Ba-

tdnghall-street.
Wilson, W., Mincing-lane, sugar-broker. (Lewis,

Crutched Friars.
Waring, J., Charles-street, ship-owner. (Pearce

and Co., Swithin's-lane.
Wharton, T., Bidstone, farmer. (Lake, Catea-

ton-street; Foster, Liverpool.
Wild, J., and G. Shaw, Oldham, cotton-spinners.

(Ward and Co., Temple; Hadfield and Co.,

Manchester.
Williams, J. E., Norwich, grocer. (Wire, St.

Swithin's-lane ; Marston, Norwich.
Williams, G., St. Paul's Church-yard, ware-
houseman. ('Harris, I.incoln's-inn.
Walton, D., Oldham, cotton-spinner. (Hurd and

Co., Temple,

Ward, G., Leeds, innkeeper. (Wilson, Southamp-
ton-street.

Young, W., Rochester, coach-master. (Sim-
mons, New North-street.

ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.

Hon. and Rev. E. Grey, brother of
Earl Grey, and Rector of St. Botolph,
Bishopsgate-street, London, to be Dean
of the Cathedral Church of Hereford.—
Rev. J. C. Whalley, to the Rectory of
Ecton, Northamptonshire. — Rev. J. Bes-
ley, to the Vicarage of Long Benton,
Northumberland.— Rev. C. H. Watling,

Beauchamp, to the Rectory of Crowell,
Oxford.— Rev. D. Daires, to the Per-
petual Curacy of Marston, near Bir-
mingham. — Rev. J. Stanton, to the

Vicarage of Moulton, Northampton

Rev. T. K. Arnold, to the Rectory of
Lyndon, Rutland.— Rev. T. P. Wright,

^. ^vv_ r . ,_,. JL+.. ,, «V.LHI^, to the Vicarage of Roydon, Essex. —

to the Perpetual Curacy of Charlton Rev. J. L. Lugger, to the Rectory of

Regis, vulgo Charlton King's Rev. J. St. James, Tregony, with the Vicarage

2 H 2

236

Ecclesiast ica I Preferm an Is.

[FEB.

of Cuby, Cornwall. — Rev. C. Tookey,
to be Head Master of Wolverley Free
Grammar School. — Rev.T. D. Fosbrooke
to the Rectory of Walford, with the Vicar-
age of Ruardean, Hereford. — llev. L.
B. AVither, to the Vicarage of Herriard,

Hants llev. J. O. Zi'llwood, to tlie

Rectory of Compton, Hants. — Rev. R.
Tomes, to the Vicarage of Coughton,
Warwick-— Rev. T. S. Evans, to be
Head Master of Kensington Grammar
School. — Rev. J. Buller, to the Curacy
of St. John's, Plymouth. — Rev. J.
Graham, to the Vicarage of Comberton,
Cambridge.— Rev. W. A. Hare, to the
Vicarage of Newport Pagnell, Bucks. —
Rev. J. N. Shipton, to be Rural Dean
of Bedminster.— Rev. J. C. Aldrich, to
be Curate of St. Lawrence, Ipswich. —
Rev. M. Evans, to the Rectory of
Newton Kyme, York. — Rev. Dr. G.
Cooke. to be one of His Majesty's Chap-
lains in Ordinary for Scotland. — Rev.
G. Brett, to be Morning Preacher of
Hanover Chapel, Regent-street, Lon-
don.— Very Rev. Dean of Cork, to be
Chaplain to the Lord Lieutenant of Ire-
land.— Rev. J. H. Harrison to the Rec-
tory of Bugbrooke, Northampton.— Rev.
H. Richards, to the Vicarage of Keevil,
Wilts.— Rev. J. W. D. Merelst, to the
Perpetual Curacy of Darlington, Dur-
ham.— Rev. J. J Blunt to be Hulsean
Lecturer. — Rev. Mr. Mountain, to the
Rectory of Blurham, Beds.— Rev. R.
A. Cox, to the Perpetual Curacies of
Charminster and Stratton, Dorset. —

Rev. G. Hall, to be Domestic Chaplain
to the Lord Chancellor.— Rev. J. R.
Sheppard, to the Rectorv of Thwaite,
Suffolk.— Rev. R. Crockett, to be Chap-
lain to Lord Lilford.— Rev. G. Good-
man, to the Rectory of Kemer ton, Glou-
cester.— Rev. J.Fayner,to the Perpetual
Curacies of Chillington and Seavington
St. Mary, Somerset.— Rev. F. D. Gilby,
to the Vicarage of Eckington, Worcester.
— Rev. E. Hibgame, to the Curacy of
St. George, Norwich. — Rev. J. Burnett,
to the Rectory of Houghton, Hants. —
Rev. J. Clementson, to the Vicarage of
Wolvey, Warwick. — Rev. P. Fraser, to
the Rectory of Keg worth, Leicester —
Rev. W. M'Douall, to a Prebendal Stall
in Peterborough Cathedral — Rev. R.
Ecough, to the Rectory of Great Ad-
dington, Northampton.' — Rev. W. Pauli,
to be Head Master of Chester King's
School.— Rev. T. H. Cassan, to the Vic-
erage of Bruton and Perpetual Curacy
of Wyke Champrlower, Somerset. — Rt.
Rev. Lord Bishop of Exeter (Dr. Phil-
potts), to a Prebendal Stall in Durham
Cathedral— Rev. W. N. Darnell, to the
Rectory of Stanhope, Durham.— Rev. G.
Davys, to a Deanery of Chester. — Rev.
J. Armihead, to the Perpetual Curacy
of Barlings.— Rev. W. Vaux, to a Pre-
bendal Stall in Winchester Cathedral.
• — Rev. J. Besly, to the Rectory of
Aston Subedge, Gloucester. — Rev. T.
Higgins to the Perpetual Curacy of
Stoulton, Worcester.

CHRONOLOGY, MARRIAGES, DEATHS, ETC.

CHRONOLOGY.

Dec. 26. By order of the Privy Coun-
cil, form of prayer read in the churches
" on account of the troubled state of the
kingdom."

— 27. A meeting of a body of per-
sons denominating themselves " The
Tradesmen of Dublin," prevented from
assembling by Proclamation of the Lord
Lieutenant of Ireland. The intention
of the meeting was for a Repeal of the
Union. An address was, by deputies,
presented to Mr. O'Connell.

Jan. 3. The American President's
Message, delivered December 7, to both
Houses of Congress arrived ; it states,
among other things, the expense of its
government as follows : — " According to
the estimates of the Treasury Depart-
ment, the receipts in the treasury,
during the present year, will amount to
24,161,018 dollars, which will exceed by
about 300,000 dollars the estimate pre-
sented in the last annual report of the
Secretary of the Treasury. The total
expenditure during the year, exclusive of
the public debt, is estimated at 13,742,311

dollars ; and the payment on account of
public debt for the same period will have
been 11,354,630 dollars: leaving a ba-
lance in the treasury, on the 1st Jan.,
1831, of 4,819,781 dollars."!!!

— 5.. By abstract of the net pro-
duce of the Revenue up to this day, it
appears that the decrease on the last
year has been ±'640,450., and that on
the last quarter £29,480.

— 7. Lord Lieutenant of Ireland
issued a second proclamation for sup-
pression of dangerous associations in
Ireland-

— 8. The Emperor and Autocrat
of all the Russias' Manifesto against
Poland arrived ; it is therein stated that
the revolution is "a terrible treason" —
" a torrent of rebellion" — and, " that
they have proposed conditions to the
Emperor, their legitimate master"!!!

— 10. Carlile convicted (at the Old
Bailey) for publishing a malicious libel
in the Prompter, entitled " An Address
to the Insurgent Agricultural Labour-
ers ;" he was fined £200., and imprisoned
for 2 years — and entered into securities

1831.]

Chronology — Ma rriages — Deaths.

237

for 10 years' good behaviour, himself in
£500., and 2 securities of £250. each.

— 11. Prince of Orange published
a proclamation, in London, to the Belgic
Nation.

— 15. Old Bailey Sessions ended,
when 4 prisoners received sentence of
death, 47 were transported, and several
imprisoned.

— 18. Messrs. O'Connell, Lawless,
and others, ordered into custody at Dub-
lin by the Lord Lieutenant, on a charge
of conspiracy, and admitted to bail.

MARRIAGES.

At the King's Palace, Brighton, Lord
Falkland, to Miss Fitzclarence. — W. R.
Courtenay, esq., to Lady Eliz. Fortes-
cue, daughter of Lord Fortescue. — Lieut.
E. F. Wills, to Louisa, daughter of Sir
C. W. Bampfylde, bart— E. H. Cole,
esq., to Mary, widow of Lord S. H.
Moore. — At Warwick Castle Chapel, J.
Neeld, esq., M.P., to Lady C. M. A.
Cooper, daughter of the Earl of Shaftes-
bury. — At Craigsend, Lord John Camp-
bell, to Miss Anne Colquhoun Cunning-
ham.— Rev. J. James, to Miss Wilber-
force. — S. Newbery, esq., to Fanny,
eldest daughter of Lieut. -Colonel Le
Blanc.

DEATHS.

Lady Louisa Mary Lennox, aged 92,
widow of the late Lord George Lennox,
and grandmother of the present Duke of
Richmond ; she had been upwards of 50
years on the Pension List ! — At Derby,
'W. Strutt, esq., F.R.S., 75.— In Bed-
ford-row, T. Davison, esq., 65. — At
Norwich, J. Gurney, esq., 75. — In Gros-
venor-square, the Marchioness of Ayles-
bury. — In Stanhope-street, Hon. Eliza-
beth Mary Poyntz, wife of W. S. Poyntz,
esq. — Catherine, wife of Sir J. Murray,
bart. — Hon. Philip Roper, 94, uncle of
Lord Teynham. — At Halifax, John
Logan, 105, commonly called " Old
Logan " He was born in Montrose,
Sept. 1726. He has lived in five kings'
reigns — 50 years were spent in the ser-
vice of his country, in England, Ireland,

and the West Indies — 19 years he be-
longed to the 20th Cameronian reg ,
23 years to the 32d reg. of foot, 3 years
to the 83d reg., and 5 years to the Bre-
dalline Fencibles. Of the last regiment
he was drum-major. — This long service
was rewarded with a pension of Is. 1 l^d.
per day. He has been twice married, and
has been the father of 32 children— 8 by
his former, and 24 by his second wife.
His last child was born when . Logan
was in his 77th year. — R. Clarke, esq.
93, Chamberlain of London. — At
St. Leonard's, G. J. Wood, esq. — At
Broughton, Alice Quainton, 100. — James
Blackstone, esq., son of the celebrated
Justice Blackstone. — Viscountess Mas-
sareene.— Charlotte, Baroness de Roos.
—Mrs. Ford, 86, mother to the Duchess
of Cannizzarro — Hon. Louisa King, 19,
daughter of Lord Lorton. — Sir C. J.
Smith, bart.— Sir T. Frankland, bart.,
81 — The Bishop of Cork.— At Edin-
burgh, Henry Mackenzie, esq., author
of " The Mirror," &c.— Viscount Sid-
ney.— F. Canning, esq — Hon. Charlotte
Grimstone.— In Berkeley- square, Ellen,
wife of T. Legh, esq., M.P. This was
the lady about whom so much interest
was excited, in consequence of her abduc-
tion by Mr. E. G. Wakefield.

MARRIAGES ABROAD.

At Munich, at the house of His Ma-
jesty's Envoy Extraordinary, Henry
Francis Howard, esq., to the Hon. Se-
villa Erskine, fourth daughter of Lord
Erskine.— At the Hague, P. F. Tinne,
esq., to Henriette, eldest daughter of
the late Vice-admiral Baron de Capel-
len.

DEATHS ABROAD.

At Paris, Mr. J. Donaldson, from
disease brought on by over exertion and
fatigue in the late revolution. He was
a native of Glasgow, and well known as
the author of the " Eventful Life of a
Soldier," and " Scenes and Sketches of
a Soldier's Life in Ireland." — At Trini-
dad, Mme. Gollivette, 116 — At Paris,
Mme. de Genlis, 86.

MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES.

NORTHUMBERLAND. — The

trustees of the Savings' Bank establish
ed at Newcastle-upon-Tyne state, their
receipts up to Nov. 20, to have amounted
to £231,945. 7s. 3d, paid in by 4,063
depositors, and 12 charitable, and 80
friendly societies — The moral advan-
tages of these institutions in raising the
character and increasing the comforts
of the poor are incalculable. In Eng-
land, Wales, and Ireland (for Scotland
makes no return to the National Debt

Office) there are 487 Savings' Banks,
in which the number of depositors
is 403,712; the amount of deposits
£13,523,428. ; of these depositors more
than half the number, or 203,691, have
deposits under £20. each, or on the
average £7- 4s. 5<|d. ; there are also
4,549 Friendly Societies, having de-
posits to the amount of £747,124. or on
the average £164. 4s. 9d. each, and 1,684
Charitable Societies. The total num-
ber of accounts is 40y,945, and the

238

Provincial Occurrences : Yorkshire) Lancashire, fyc. [FEB.

total amount of deposits with interest
£ 1,443,492 ; the average of the same
placed to each account is £35. 4s. 2d.

A public meeting of the inhabitants
of South Shields has been held at the
Town Hall for the purpose of taking
into consideration the sending its own
representatives to the Commons House
of Parliament ; when a petition to both
Houses was unanimously agreed to and
several resolutions entered into for the
purpose.

YORKSHIRE The inhabitants of

Knaresborough have recently held a
meeting at their Sessions House, Sir
W. A. Ingilby, Bart., M.P., in the chair,
on the state of the country, when several
resolutions were passed, and petitions to
both Houses of Parliament resolved on.
Resolution 4 states—" That the People
of this country, especially the Middle
and Lower Classes, are now labouring
under an Oppressive Weight of Taxa-
tion, a circumstance which this Meeting
principally ascribes to the Defective
State of Public Representation, the Want
of a due Sympathy with those Classes,
and a Profuse or otherwise Unwarrant-
able Expenditure of the Public Money."

LANCASHIRE. — The new and
beautiful church of Blackburn has been
nearly burnt down. It was considered
one of the noblest pieces of Gothic archi-
tecture erected in modern days, and its
estimated cost, when totalty completed
would not have been far from £50,000.

A very numerous meeting has been
held at Manchester on the subject of
Parliamentary Reform, when resolutions
were passed, and petitions ordered to be
presented to both Houses of Parliament,
praying for immediate Reform.

Nothing has yet transpired to lead to
the discovery of the parties guilty of the
diabolical murder of Mr. Ashton, at
Hyde, although a reward of £500. has
been offered by the father of the un-
fortunate youth'; another £500. by his
other relatives ; and £1,000. more by
Government, with an offer of pardon
to any accomplice, excepting the hand
that actually fired the pistol, who will
come forward and give the desired in-
formation.

NORTHAMPTONSHIRE. — The

amount of cash received at the Savings'
Bank of this county from its institution
in August 1816, to December 20, 1830, is
£354,162. Us. 0*d. ; out of which up-
wards of £200,000. have been repaid to
depositors.

DORSETSHIRE.— During the sit-
ting of the Special Commission for this
county, no less than four incendiary
fires took place.

WORCESTERSHIRE. — The pre-
sent amount of the Droitwich Savings'

Bank is £14,452. 14s. lOd. ; the total
number of accounts being 320.

WARWICKSHIRE.— The trustees
of the Birmingham Savings' Bank have
published their account up to November
20, last, from which it appears that
£72,839. 3s. 8d., have been received
since its institution by 3,139 depositors.

WILTS. — Twenty-fiveprisonerswere
sentenced for death at the commission
for holding the special assize for this
county. There were upwards of 300
persons for trial.

GLOUCESTERSHIRE.— At a pub-
lic meeting held at Dursley Town Hall,
the Bailiff in the chair, the inhabitants,
amongst other resolutions, unanimously
" Resolved, that this meeting deplore
that any of their countrymen should be
guilty of those acts of outrage and in-
cendiarism, which have unhappily dis-
graced various parts of the kingdom, but
cannot refrain from ascribing them to
that lamentable Pauperism, which is the
result of an intolerable burthen of Tax-
ation, occasioned by long and destructive
Wars, by expensive Establishments in
time of Peace, by Sinecures and Grants,
by immoderate and unmerited Pensions,
and useless Places ; whereby a sum of
money is wrung from an impoverished
people astounding in amount and ruinous
in its pressure, on the springs of produc-
tive industry." — Petitions were voted
to both Houses of Parliament upon the
subject.

A public meeting of the bankers,
merchants, and other inhabitants of
Bristol and its vicinity has been held at
the Guildhall, for the the purpose of
petitioning Parliament for a Reform in
the Representation, when the petition
and several resolutions were unani-
mously passed for that purpose, as well
as for the Repeal of Vexatious Laws,
the Removal of Unjust Monopolies, the
Abolition of Sinecures and Useless Places,
and Shortening the Duration of Par-
liaments.

The Dursley Savings' Bank account
up to November 20, 1830, amounted to
£18,992. 5s. 10d., contributed by 441
depositors and 17 charitable and friendly
societies.

The receipts at the Custom House,
Gloucester, have increased prodigiously
since the opening of the Canal between
3 and 4 vears ago. In 1827 the receipts
were £28,500. ; in 1830, £90,300.

The calendar at the last Gloucester
Quarter Sessions consisted of 183 pri-
soners !!!

SOMERSETSHIRE.— At the 13th

Annual Report of " The West Somer-
set Savings' Bank," it appears that the
accounts made up to November 20, last,

1831.] Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, Lincolnshire, Leicestershire, $c. 239

at three millions and upwards, pays but
£3. a-year. — Norfolk is computed to con-
sume 300,000 chaldrons ; the removal of
the tax would be to the inhabitants of
that county alone equal to a boon of
75,000 chaldrons of coals.

A meeting has been held at St. An-
drew's Hall, by the inhabitants of Nor-
wich, on the subject of Parliamentary
Reform, Taxation, Sinecures, &c., ami
a petition, founded on several resolu-
tions, ordered to be presented to the
Legislature.

A Parliamentary Reform Meeting was
lately held at the Guildhall at Lynn,
and various resolutions entered into, and
a petition unanimously passed to the
legislature. Allusions were made to the
present institutions of the country as
necessary to undergo a radical change,
many of them having existed from five
to 600 years, and although they might
originally be well suited to the neces-
sities and the ignorance of those times,
it was monstrous to suppose that they
would suit every age and circumstance
of the people.

The receipts of the Norfolk and Nor-
wich Savings' Bank up to Nov. 20, 1830,
amount to £106,178. 11s. 7d. — depositors
2,781.

amounted to the sum of £179,661. 19s. 9d.
the savings of 3,625 depositors, 5 chari-
table societies, and 53 friendly societies.
The Queentock Savings' Bank account
up to November 20, last, amounted to
£34,487. 4d., by 524 depositors, and 15
societies.

The inhabitants of Yatton and Kenn,
Somersetshire, have sent a petition to
the House of Lords, stating—" That
believing that nearly all the statutes
enacted 'in the earlier ages, when bar-
barism and superstition prevailed, are
either revoked or so ameliorated as to
have some reference to the present im-
proved state of society, with the excep-
tion of the Tithe Laws ; they, therefore,
pray for their abolition, which would
materially promote the cause of religion,
the comforts and welfare of all the pro-
ductive classes of society, and destroy a
fruitful and never failing source of liti-
gation."

The county expenses of last year
amounted to £24,820. 19s. 8d.

ESSEX.— There are in this county 15
Savings' Banks, established at Barking,
Chelmsford, Colchester, Dunmow, Ep-
ping, Halstead, Harwich, Castle Hed-
ingham, Leyton, Manningtree, Roch-
ford, Romford, Saffron Walden, West
Ham, and Witham. The total number of
depositors in these Banks is 7,897 : the to-
tal amount of deposits, including interest,
is £273,182. 8s. 7|d.; average amount
of each depositor's account is £34. 4s. Ofd.;
and of these depositors there are 4,340
whose deposits are under .£20. each,
amounting in the whole to £32,521 .4s. 6d.
There are also 173 Friendly Societies,
having .£21,977. 2s. 5|d., and 56 Chari-
table Societies, having 3,909. 9s. 9d. de-
posited, making the total amount in the
several Banks £299.069. llz^d.

The committee appointed to carry
into effect a plan for ameliorating the
Condition of the Poor, at Saffron Wal-
den, &c., have published their Report,
on the successful issue of the plan
adopted of spade husbandry, and small
allotments of land — which plans they
hope will be adopted in other districts.

NORFOLK.— Lord G. Bentinck, in
presenting a petition to the House of
Commons from Lynn for a remission of
the duty on sea-borne coals, gave the
following statement of the partial bur-
then this tax inflicts upon the county ;
which, with 351,000 inhabitants, and
assessed to the property tax, in 1815, its
greatest prosperity, at no more than
£1,541,000., actually pays £90,000. ster-
ling to the coal tax ; whilst Yorkshire,
with 1,200,000 inhabitants, and a yearly
income of more than four and a half
millions, contributes but £7,432. ; and
Lancashire, with a population of upwards
>f one million, and with an income rated

SUFFOLK.— The total number of
depositors in Bury Savings' Bank, No-
vember 20, last, was 871, and the amount
then due to them £35,867. 10s. 2d.

LINCOLNSHIRE AND RUT-
LANDSHIRE.—At the last annual
meeting of the " Stamford and Rutland
Savings' Bank," their property amount-
ed to £42,680. 14s. 11 ^d., and the total
number of accounts to 832. The Spilsby
Savings' Bank amounted to £8,904.
16s. lid.; the actual number of deposi-
tors were 255.

A meeting has been called by the
High Sheriff for petitioning the Legis-
lature upon the excessive Taxation of
the Country, and the best means of re-
ducing it without breach of National
Faith, the wasteful Expenditure of Pub-
lic Money, and the means of checking
it, and that all-important question, Re-
form of the House of Commons. Seve-
ral resolutions were passed and a petition
founded thereon.

LEICEST ERSHIRE.— The inhabi-
tants of Leicester have held a public
meeting in favour of Reform and Re-
trenchment, and to support his Majesty's
ministers ; when 10 resolutions were
unanimously passed, and a petition to
Parliament resolved on for those pur-
poses. Among the observations elicited
on the occasion, it was remarked by one
of the speakers, that " the present misery
and distress are the results of ruinous
wars, wanton expenditure, unequal tax-.

240 Provincial Occurrences : Berks, Wales, ticoiland, &c. [[FEB.

ation, and unjust monopolies, which,
whilst they benefit and enrich the few,
ruin our agriculture, destroy our com-
merce, and starve our population !!!"

BERKS. — A county meeting took
place at Reading, having been sum-
moned by the High Sheriff, for Par-
liamentary Reform, when a petition to
the House of Commons for that pur-
pose was carried unanimously. A reso-
lution in favour of vote by ballot was
also carried.

The amount at the last meeting of
the trustees of the Reading Savings'
Bank, appears to be £87,777. 6s. 3d.,
and the depositors numbered 2,025, in-
cluding 17 friendly societies.

Sentence of death was passed upon 26
prisoners at the High Commission As-
sizes for this county ; and about 70
were either transported or imprisoned.

HANTS.— Sentence of death was re-
corded upon 101 prisoners at the Special
Commission held at Winchester— 6 only
were left for execution ! 36 were tran-
sported, 65 imprisoned, and 67 ac-
quitted.

At the last meeting of the governors
of the Chichester Savings' Bank it ap-
peared that £53,374. 11s. 5d. had been
received up to Nov. 20, 1830; and that
the number of contributors amounted to
970; including 16 Friendly and 8 Cha-
ritable Societies. The Newport Sav*
ings' Bank, up to the same period, had
received £36,012. 11s. Id., and the de-
positers were 833.

CORNWALL. — By the general
statement of the Penzance Savings'
Bank, made up to Nov. 20, 1830, it
appears that £43,966. 7s. 6d. had been
received from 003 depositors, and 11
Charitable and Friendly Societies.

A county meeting has been held at
Bodmin, when the freeholders passed,
unanimou ly, resolutions for aReform in
Parliament, and petitions to Lords and
Commons, embodying them, were like-
wise passed.

There has been for some time past
considerable excitement amongst the
fishermen of Paul, near Penzance, New-
lyn, and Mousehole, in consequence of a
demand made on them for Tithes of
Fish ; this tithe was for many years
fixed at 20s. each boat, but now 'it is
raised to £'4. 10s. A solicitor of St.
Ives went there a short time since to
demand the tithes for his client, but
was so roughly assailed that he was
obliged to retreat. — From The Cornu-
lian, Jan. 7 ; which paper also states,
that at a vestry held at Callington, it
was considered that, instead of 6s. in
the pound, under the present extraordi-
nary pressure of the times, 2s. would be
a fair composition for their tithes this

year. The same paper states, through
the medium of one of its correspondents,
" That the rental of the land, in the
pai'ishes of South Hill and Callington,
amounts to only £3,800 a vear ; and
that the Rector actually receives from
the farmers nearly £f,000. yearlv as
Tithes ! ! !"

SUSSEX.— The magistrates assem-
bled at the Quarter Sessions have agreed
to a petition to the House of Commons,
specifying that, in the present unfortu-
nate state of the country, they feel
themselves called upon to press most
strongly upon the attention of the House
the very distressing condition of the oc-
cupiers of farms, whether proprietors or
tenants, in a great part of tne eastern
division of Sussex, and of their inabi-
lity of pay ing their labourers, occasioned
by abuse of the poor - laws ; to the
changes in the currency ; to the exces-
sive burthen of taxation ; and to the
system of tithes.

WALES. — The Swansea Savings'
Bank deposits amounted, November 20,
to £15,675. 3s. ll£d., and to 406 de-
positors.

The disturbances which existed in
Wales have entirely subsided. The
men have returned to their work ; but
in almost every instance the demands
of the men have been complied with.
The distress is not attributable to any
local cause, but to that which afflicts
the whole country— -excessive and over-
whelming taxation. — Chester Courant.

SCOTLAND.— New Year's Day last
the waters of Loch Leven were ad-
mitted into the new channel which has
been preparing for their reception dur-
ing the two last years. This was an
operation of the greatest delicacy, not
unattended with danger, as the new cut
is made to penetrate a considerable way
into the lake, which had lately risen to
an almost unprecedented height, and
was threatening every moment to burst
its barriers. Had this taken place, the
immense tide of waters which would
have escaped, would have carried along
with it devastation and ruin. Tims a
thousand acres of excellent land will be
recovered from the lake, and several
thousands of acres of marshy soil will be
made perfectly dry, rendered capable of
the highest cultivation, and will form
one of the finest tracts of champaign
country. The lake still consists of six
square miles. — Edinburgh Weekly Chro-
nicle, Jan. 5, 1831.

A Meeting for Reform has taken
place at Glasgow, at which various
resolutions were adopted, and petitions
passed, to which an immense number of
signatures have been attached.

&/ &fr$&&&4

MONTHLY MAGAZINE

OF

POLITICS, LITERATURE, AND THE BELLES LETTRES.
VOL. XI.] MARCH, 1831. [No. 63.

MARCH NIGHT-THOUGHTS OF GOG AND MAGOG.

Scene — Guildhall. Time — Midnight.

THE feast was done, the lamps were out,

The clamours of the hall were past ;
The orators had ceased to spout,

The Lady Mayoress broke her fast ;
My Lord had left the yearly throne —
The day of callipash was done.

Yet on the ear — if ear were there —

Had come by fits a fearful sound,
Like Aldermen bemused in beer,

Taking their doze the hall around ;
'Twas Gog to Magog sent the groan —
Majestic, angry, and alone !

GOG.
" What think' st thou, MAGOG, of the times ?

Is England going to the dogs ?
Does SOUTHEY steal or make his rhymes ?

Is GREY'S a cabinet of logs ?
Is all this prate about Reform
A trick to keep their benches warm?"

The Giant paused ; a thunder-roll
Was like the sigh that spoke his soul !
Grimly the Brother-Giant rose —
A mountain shook from its repose !
Then spoke his sorrows in his turn,
With upraised club, and eyes that burn.

MAGOG.
" Now let me ask one question, GOG :

How long shall England play the Quaker,
When scoffs her every son of bog —

When DAN turns Ireland's undertaker,
And all his yelping rascals dabble
In riot, robbery, and rabble ?"
M. M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 63. 2 I

242 March Night- Thoughts of Gog and Magog. • [MARCH,

Down fell his club with crash profound !
The ghosts of Sheriffs gibbered round ;
And Aldermen, no longer men,
Flocked, fat and fungous, round the den,
Though all their bulk was empty air —
A nothing — like a last year's Mayor !

GOG.
" How long will PEEL for place keep boring,

Still swearing that he hates the thing ?
Or DAWSON keep his tale encoring —

Both true alike to God and King ?
Or pious GOULBURN cease to pray
Four times a year for quarter-day ?"

MAGOG.
" How long will BROUGHAM in Chancery ride,

Kicking the Masters from their stools ?
Or HUME display the ass's hide ?

Or WOOD and HUNT be noisy fools ?
Or gallant GRAHAM redeem the pledge
That set old BATHURST'S teeth on edge ?"

GOG.
" Now, Brother, let me put a case,

Plain as the crack in STANHOPE'S skull —
Plain as the nose in MORPETH'S face :

How long will England's purse be full,
When — robbed alike by foes and friends—
Said purse is open at both ends ?"

MAGOG.
" Now, Brother, for your case take mine :

How long will JOHN BULL bear the saddle
That galls the marrow in his spine,

If all he gets is change of twaddle,
Whoever rides him, Whig or Tory ?
My question's like the nose before ye ?"

The Brother-Giant looked awhile,
Like HUME, the grimmer for his smile;]
Then let his wooden eyelids sink,
Like Melville when he strives to think ;
Then, like the ocean on the shore,
Sent through the hall his solemn roar.

GOG.
" How long shall this Lord's cousins' cousins,

And that Lord's tribe of dancing daughters,
And t'other' s nameless friends by dozens,

From John Bull's bottle sip the waters ?
Reform be taxes, places, pensions ?
And Humbug have the ' best intentions ?' "

MAGOG uprose ; but clamours broke

From roof to floor — a general screech !
A thousand phantoms screamed, " spoke ! spoke !"

Thick as when Limerick makes a speech.
Were MAGOG gifted like CHARLES WYNN,
Or BEXLKY'S self, he must give in !

1831.] [ 243 ]

EUROPE, AND THE BRITISH PARLIAMENT.

THE Continental kingdoms exhibit at this moment the most extra-
ordinary problem that ever perplexed the politician. They are all
arming — yet all protesting the most anxious desire of peace ! all
intriguing for alliances, and the other diplomatic means of commencing
war in the most formidable state of preparation — yet all disclaiming any
compact that can imply either the fear of war or the wish for war ! and
all talking in the securest style of the cause of kings and established
sovereignties, while disaffection is in their streets, uncertainty in their
councils, and the grand terror of every throne is the fear of its own
people !

It must be expected that a vast variety of contradictory reports should
float about the Continent in the present crude state of those great trans-
actions ; and we accordingly have to encounter every extravagance that
can be invented by the genius of the bureau., and propagated by the
genius of the coffee-house. But something of higher reliance is given
to the rumour that Austria, Russia, and Prussia are about to form a
confederacy for the suppression of revolutionary principles — in other
words, for the suppression of the progress of France in her almost
openly avowed projects of aggrandisement. This involves an anxious
question with ourselves. Laying aside all conjecture, we have the fact
that France is raising an immense army ; and for what purpose, if not
for aggression in some quarter ? The raising of her National Guard
had already secured her from invasion ; and there can be no doubt that,
in the present state of Europe, any unprovoked attempt at the invasion
of France would have produced an immediate and intimate connection
with England, which must have settled the war at once ; for whatever
our old hostility to France might have been, it could not be for the
interest of England to see her now broken down, and Russia made still
more powerful in Europe than she has so unwisely been suffered to
become. The direct results of a successful war by the combined powers
against France, would be to make Russia, in every sense of the word,
the leading power of Europe, with Austria and Prussia as her vassals ;
and this supreme influence of Russia would be inevitably so injurious to
England, that she must, for her common security, make every effort to
resist the growth of this ambitious power. There is scarcely a point of
our foreign empire on which Russia might not do us more mischief than
any other European government. In India, we are singularly open to
attack ; and even the slightest impression that might be made by a
Russian army would be productive of so enormous an expense of money,
and perhaps of life, that it would be the first duty of a ministry to strike
any blow by which her Indian march might be paralyzed. Even in the
rear of Canada, the Russian settlements are encroaching to an inordinate
extent ; and, however we may be inclined to disregard a territory so
remote, yet it rises into importance when we look to its influence ori
our Colonies in the Pacific. A Russian naval force from the north-east
of Asia, or north-west of America, would be within a few weeks' sail
of our settlements in New South Wales, and the various positions of
our commerce among the islands ; while it would take as many months
for an English expedition to reach them for their defence.

But the truth is, that a commercial people has its territory near to
every other that borders the sea. The waters are its territory ; and a

212

2-14 Europe, and the British Parliament. [MARCH,

blow as severe might be struck against this country in the Baltic, the
Black Sea, or in the Mediterranean, as in the Channel.

For these reasons, and many others, any attack by Russia on France,
unless occasioned by the clearest necessity, must arm England on the
side of her neighbour; and this is well known by the French Cabinet.
The natural conclusion is, that not fear, but ambition, is arming France ;
and that not ambition, but fear, is arming the continental powers.

The French ministry, people, and king, are curiously at variance in
their declared opinions of the course to be pursued in the present junc-
ture. The king is all for peace ; he declares that France desires nothing
but good fellowship with all the world, and even requires peace for her
commerce, institutions, and freedom. The ministry verge a little more
into the old French style, and while they deny all idea of aggression, pro-
mulgate to the world that they have an army of half a million ready for
any service. The people leave both king and ministry behind, and declare
that France is not merely able to make a stand against all the world,
but to resume her old place at its head. The popular cry of France is
for an advance to the Rhine. There is not a coffee-house waiter in Paris
who does not consider himself wronged of his proper glory while France
is restricted within the bounds of the old monarchy. The possession of
Belgium is dear to the souls of politicians who are not worth a sou;
and the prospect of conquering the Prussian and Dutch provinces dis-
turbs the dreams of patriots who, on rising at morn, are unconscious
where they are to find a meal for the day, or a bed for the night.

The opinions of those classes of legislators in England, would be of"
no very serious consequence ; and we might leave them to evaporate at
the hustings, or in New South Wales, where so much premature
patriotism has found its natural retreat. But, in France, the colour of
affairs is different. The legislators are the multitude ; and what is once
the will of the populace must soon be the act of the nation. Brussels has
chosen the Duke de Nemours for its king. Louis-Philippe has distinctly
refused his consent to this arrangement. The allies have expressed the
strongest determination on the subject, and are said to have even threat-
ened to withdraw their ambassadors, if the duke should be suffered to
avail himself of the election. Yet with what feelings will the French
people see this chance of laying hold of Belgium escaping from their
hands ? But a new candidate is started, in the person of the son of the
King of Naples. Is he less obnoxious than the Duke de Nemours ?
If the one be the son of the French, king, the other is the nephew of the
French queen. But whoever may be the future sovereign, the question
is much less of the person than of the power. If he be any one of the
royal youths already proposed, his kingdom must be built on a founda-
tion of sand. In the first place, he will have to make head against the
factions in Belgium, which are bitter, and inflamed to a degree unequal-
led in any other part of Europe — a tolerable task for a boy of sixteen,
whether bred up in the dancing court of the Tuileries, or in the opera-
hunting, lazy, and licentious court of Naples. Of course, he will be
involved in perplexities in the first month, which it may take his life to
unwind.

But if he were a Solomon, what is to protect a little strip of territory,
lying open to England, France, and Prussia, from being torn in pieces
on the very first collision of the great powers. England could throw
an army into it within a month, Prussia within a week, and France

1831.] Europe, and the British Parliament. 245

within a day. If Belgium is to have a prince, and that prince is to
have a permanent kingdom, he ought to be chosen among the established
powers of Europe. The Nassau family would probably be the most
eligible. But they seem to have given some irreconcilable offence to
the people of Brussels, and they come with the unlucky imputation of
having been beaten. The Belgians, therefore, treat them with scorn.
This was the old policy of Europe, when Poland received a foreigner
on her throne. It was the acknowledged and wise policy to place on
that throne some individual whose hereditary dominions would supply
him with the means of preserving the throne independent. While the
electors of Saxony and the king of Hungary were thus in possession,
Poland was independent. But when Russia was weakly suffered to put
Stanislaus on the throne, a man taken from the common order of the
nobles, from that hour Poland became little more than a Russian fief.
In the same manner, while the Netherlands remained connected with
Austria, they retained their influence in European affairs, and their
independence of the neighbouring powers. They were, of course,
involved in every war of Europe, from their situation in the centre of
the great military powers ; but though a regular exercise-ground for
all the Continental armies, they underwent no separation ; they retained
their rank, and by their location, which, unlucky as it was in war, was
the source of commerce and prosperity in peace, they continued one of
the most opulent portions of Europe. But if a young Beauharnois, or
any other waltzing boy of the Continent, with nothing but his mous-
taches and spurs to sustain his throne, shall be invested with the Bel-
gian destinies, it is impossible that either the people will endure, or
the ambitious and warlike powers of the Continent will respect him.
Prussia will partition his dominions, the Dutch will buy them, or
France will seize them at one fell swoop, and there's an end.

The world beyond the Rhine is still in that state of silence, yet of
confusion, which is " between the acting of a dreadful thing and the
conception." Prussia is drilling, arming, and parading in every
quarter. The Polish insurrection has called large bodies of troops into
the provinces, her share of the plunder of that unhappy country. The
Belgian insurrection had drawn away another army to the provinces on
the Rhine. The sulkiness of the populace in Berlin, and of the
students and professors in the universities, is understood to be suffi-
ciently marked to keep another army in the centre of the kingdom,
and, at this moment, Prussia without a war, or any thing to gain by
one, is in the same attitude as if the armies of Europe were thundering
at the gates of Berlin, and is undergoing an expence that is preying on
the vitals of the land.

In Italy symptoms of that insurgent spirit, which is known to exist
in every corner of that fine country, have lately broken out even in the
quiet districts of the Modenese and the Bolognese. They will be put
clown, and the insurgents be forced to hide themselves, as usual, until a
more favourable opportunity. But the chance has put Austria on the
alert, and her army is in preparation for marching alike to the Rhine and
the Brenta.

The Polish insurrection seems to have failed. A wrant of concert
between the people and the nobles was the first source of weakness.
The next was the want of a leader. We are too remote from the scene
to know the circumstances under which Klopicki, the dictator, has

246 Europe, and the British Parliament. [MARCH,

acted. But his double resignation shews that he has found some reason
for doubting the chances of Polish liberty. The armies of the revolt
are on paper, while the Russian troops are actually in the field ; and if
they have paused hitherto, appear to have done it warily, to give the
insurrection time to dissolve away, and thus achieve an easy triumph.
Unless some extraordinary interposition occur, whether of France, or
of those accidents which have before now broken up the designs of the
most powerful empires, the Polish insurrection must perish, and Russia
derive new power from this attempt at its diminution.

But we have a more important and anxious topic in the State of
British Affairs. On the accession of the present ministry the strongest
hopes were entertained of their applying themselves vigorously to the
correction of all the abuses of the country. England was weighed down
by taxes, and it was fully acknowledged that the personal expenditure
of government, the pension list, the sinecures, the places in the different
departments of office, the diplomacy, and the colonial appointments, were
exorbitantly overstretched, and must be reduced, or extinguished
altogether. The expences of Ambassadors were stated by the ministry,
when in opposition, to be enormous, as such they undoubtedly were ;
for it was monstrous to see the services of such men as generally held
the chief embassies, paid at the rate of £12,000. a year, which, in those
cheaper countries to which they were commissioned, was at the rate
of thirty or forty thousand pounds a year in England. It was
proposed that the highest diplomatic salary should be reduced to about
a sixth of the sum ; and that by selecting men capable of the situation,
not noble lords, whose whole merit consisted in their being the relatives
of a minister, or creatures of a court ; but men of capacity and expe-
rience, the whole expence, which amounted, with retiring pensions, &c.,
to upwards of halt* a million a year, might be reduced within £50,000.
No one took up the subject with more vigour, or pursued it with more
keenness, than Sir James Graham.

The next topic was the Sinecures : it was found that they burthened
the country with an inordinate expence, without even the excuse of the
diplomatist, that of having something to do. The sinecurists were
gentlemen, who, having been the sons, cousins, or menials, of other
gentlemen, who had the opportunity of handling the public purse, and
whose conscience was not included among their principles, lived plea-
santly upon handsome sums, drawn quarterly from the treasury, without
more trouble or care than the lilies, that neither sow nor spin. It was
declared in the strongest language that this abominable abuse should
insult common sense and defraud the country no longer, but that
lazy noble lords, and lazy commoners, should be taught that state
pauperism was at an end, and that another shilling of public money was
not to be sunk in the private pocket.

Yet the majority of the sinecures seem to be left in precisely the
same situation in which they were found, and the whole generation
of noble paupers are exulting in having a renewed lease of public
charity.

The Pension List was another abomination. It is idle to tell us that, by
touching it, we are touching the royal interests. The very assertion
throws disrespect upon royalty. The true interest of a British king is
identified with that of his people. A nation degraded by visible corrup-
tion, no matter where that corruption may originate, is not worthy of a

1831.] Europe, and the British Parliament. 247

patriot king. An impoverished nation is no honour to any king, let his
prerogative be however vigorous, or his pension list however well
stocked. But the fact is, that in nine instances out of ten, the king has
no more to do with the pension list than he has with the list of bank-
rupts. It is a ministerial machine, a government purse, a treasury tool,
and the minister is the man whose prerogative is endangered by the
popular demand for its reduction. The pension list in its present state
has been pronounced, on the most competent authority, to be one great
job : and it remains to be seen whether the nation will endure the lavish
distribution of its hard-earned money among the families of noble pau-
pers. Lists of those paupers have been published. We find among
them names of the most notoriously haughty personages, male and
female, in the empire ; keepers of sumptuous equipages, and opera-boxes,
givers of feasts which figure among the memorabilia of the London win-
ter ; making progresses through the kingdom, from one country-seat or
watering-place to another, all of which they consider of sufficient impor-
tance to the public, to register them duly in the newspapers. We
find other names, of more than equivocal reputation, from which no
demand of the public can extract the most trifling reason for their draw-
ing an income from the national purse ; honorable ladies, if not ladies of
honour, and a crowd of others, for whose claims we can account only
under one supposition. Is all this as it should be? Is the public demand
that those pensions should be cut away, an offence to the king's cha-
racter? Quite the contrary. We think that the purer the nature of the
public expenditure, the more honour redounds to those by whom it is
regulated.

But we will go further, and say, that the Nobility are deeply interested
in seeing this list abolished. They are not in high odour at present. If
some individuals of unimpeachable integrity exist, the great majority
have shewn themselves as willing slaves to the minister for the time
being, as ever the Grand Turk found in his viziers and pashas. They
are cravers for the public money, almost with a more voracious appetite
than the most plebeian hanger-on of office. One of the newspapers
observes : —

" It ought not to be forgotten, that, besides the pensions already published,
there is a host of beings who, in addition to the enjoyment of those provisions,
are accommodated with suites of apartments in the different palaces, rent and
taxes free ; whilst the people who supply the taxes to defray the support of
those State paupers, are exposed to both. The Seymour family — or, as they
stupidly style themselves, the Saint Maurs — alone afford a striking proof of
this. The Chairman of the Excise, Captain Seymour, R.N., who is the
Serjeant at Arms and Keeper of the Robes ; Horace Seymour, M.P., who is
Deputy-Keeper of the Robes, are domiciled in Hampton Court Palace, not-
withstanding the pay and emoluments they derive from those situations ; and
such is the detestation in which these gross perversions of the public money is
viewed, that Hampton Court Palace is as often called Seymour Place as it is
by its proper name ; and, to the eternal disgrace of the Wellesley family,,
their venerable mother is suffered to reside there as a State pauper."

We suppose the cry of " vested interests," and such nonsense, will not
be suffered on this occasion. The meanness of this wretched dependence
on the national purse is boundless, and all who can by any possibility
avail themselves of the plunder, do it without the slightest respect for
their own rank, reputation, or income. A noble lord of £20,000 a year,
will struggle as eagerly for the retention of some beggarly pension, or

248 Europe, and the British Parliament.

sinecure, not amounting perhaps to the wages of his cook, as if he were
not worth a shilling in the world. But he has two or three votes in the
house, and the minister, to whom the first consideration is to secure those
votes, must give way. So runs the world.

But how long is this insult to common sense to be borne ? We say
that a government which did its duty, would instantly extinguish the
whole sinecure list, and cut off from the pension list, every individual
whose services were not distinctly public. This would be acting hon-
estly, and as such, would be acting wisely even for the permanency of
the ministry itself. For there can be no truth more unquestionable than
this, that England will now be content with no half-way cabinet, no
meagre and shifting contrivance to keep every abuse that can by possi-
bility be kept, and to concede nothing but what is extorted by the pub-
lic indignation. The cabinet that will expect to survive the first session,
must adopt perfect honesty for its policy, and then its stand may be as
long as that of the empire. What the Whigs will do we can only con-
jecture. But, as yet, they have done nothing. Their contrivance
for dividing the Pension List is totally ineffectual for the object which the
nation demand, who care not a straw whether the pensions be paid
from one fund or another ; but demand that they shall be instantly
reduced. The Sinecures seem to have undergone no reduction what-
ever. Lord Ellenborough's £9,000 a year, in the King's Bench, is still
duly paid; Lord Melville's £3,000; Lord Rosslyn's £3,000; with an
endless multitude of others equally heavy, and equally unearned, go on
in the most flourishing style imaginable, and will go on, until the
cabinet learns, that its existence depends on their going on no longer.
If the fear of raising an opposition among the sinecurists be the bugbear
of the Cabinet, it is undone ; for every noble lord and patriotic com-
moner, who sees the remotest chance of his pittance being diminished
by a farthing through its continuance, hates the Cabinet like poison.
But the matter will ripen at last, and before long. The only Cabinet
that will be endured in England, will be one that will lay the axe to the
root of the tree, and without regarding the outcries of pampered indi-
viduals who have fattened on the miseries of the people, or feebly and
dishonourably dreading their combination, will sweep the land of the
locusts; and make England what it ought to be, a place where an
honest man can live by his industry. Let the Cabinet trust to the Nation ;
and it will not be disappointed. There it will find fidelity which cannot
be alienated, strength which cannot be shaken, and honesty which defies
corruption.

The debate on the Civil List has disappointed the country. We
expected to find important reductions — we find comparatively none. But
in place of those, which all men pronounce essential to the well-being
of the empire, we find a mere change in the manner of drawing up the
accounts. The sums payable for the king's actual expenditure are separ-
ated from those for the ambassadors, judges, &c., which once formed a
part of the list, and which, after all, none but the most ignorant person
could have ever confounded with the actual expence of the royal
family. The privy purse now amounts to £110,000.; the expence of
the household to £ 171,000. ; and the service of the household to £130,000. ;
or £400,000 in all. No one can object to see a King of England supplied
as a king should be, with the due means of royal living. But the item
of the " service of the household/' adding nothing to his comforts, and

1831.] Europe, and the British Parliament. 249

nothing to the public respect for his station, but quite the contrary, and
being merely a mass of enormous salaries to noble lords, and other per-
sons who are in reality only the ministerial trainbands, the cousins of
this minister and the dependants of that, we see no possible reason why
their salaries should not be extinguished. They may be very convenient
for nominal peers, but actual paupers, who are content to eat the bread
of dependence, and walk about the halls of St. James's with white rods
in their hands, and liveries on their backs. But the nation see those
things with measureless disgust, and ask how it is possible that any man
leading this utterly useless life, this mere mummery, can consider him-
self performing the part of an English gentleman, while he does this
empty duty for hire ? But, that English noblemen possessed of property,
and entitled to feel that they have a name to support among the gentle-
men of this country, should stoop to the acceptance of money for this
nonsense and puerility is altogether astonishing. What can we think of
a Duke of Devonshire, with his immense estates and high rank, taking
his £3,000 a year, for walking from one room to another, before the
king, with a gold key, or some such foolery, at his button-hole ? Let
him so walk, if he likes ; but let him disdain to accept money for an
employment which costs no trouble, and which to a man of honourable
feelings should be amply repaid by the honour of the royal presence.
Or what can justify a nobleman of the Duke of Buckingham's rank and
fortune, in receiving another £3,000 for sitting in a coach in a red coat
twice a year, and following the king's coach from Westminster to St.
James's ? The nation asks, how can such things be ? How can those
noblemen, who look upon themselves as the elect of the earth, a race of
beings altogether superior to the common breathers upon the surface of
the world, yet come to the treasury-desk, with the quarterly regularity
of a Chelsea pensioner, and put their hire in their pockets as if they
were not masters of another shilling in the world ? The fact is, that the
" household" in its present state, however it may be stocked with lofty
names, is nothing more than a most obnoxious branch of the Pension List,
a mere retaining fee for a ministerial menial ; not an appointment for
royal attendance, but an expedient to pay men, whom not even the prover-
bial daring of ministers would dare to put into public office of any active
kind, and who, if they were put into such office would inevitably and
immediately betray their unfitness for any thing but the receipt of their
salaries. We say then, that the household, as now constituted, deserves
to draw the national eyes to its abuses ; and unless the splendour of a
court is to be sustained by the degradation of the nobility, the comfort
of the monarch ensured by surrounding him with a group of " walk-
ing gentlemen ;" or the national respect to be enhanced by compelling
every man of honour and delicacy to ask, how can those men be beggarly
enough to receive salaries which they cannot want, for duties, which are
either nonentities, or which they are not adequate to perform ; the king's
dignity and the national feeling would both be best consulted by sending
those noble menials adrift, and cutting off from the national incumbran-
ces one, alike heavy and ridiculous.

The Budget was introduced on Friday the llth of February, and
is much more satisfactory than the other ministerial measures.

Its first head relates to the reduction of places, which amount to
two hundred and seventy-three : —

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 03. 2 K

250 Europe, and the British Parliament. [MARCH,

Vice-Treasurer of Ireland

Lieutenant-General of the Ordnance

Cierk of Delivery ditto

Auditor of the Civil List

Treasurer of the Military College

Ditto Military Asylum

Resident Surveyor

King's Stationer, Ireland 1

Clerks of Privy Seal 4

Commissioners of Victualling 2

Ditto Navy 2

Superintendent of Transport 1

Paymaster of Marines 1

Officers of Dock- Yards 78

Husband of 4^ per Cent. Duties 1

Inspector of Stamps, Manchester 1

Receiver-General, Scotland 1

Receivers-General, England 40

Commissioners of Sufferer's Claims at St. Domingo 1

Paymaster of American, &c. Officers 1

Unenumerated 126

273

All those reductions are good. Every burthen removed is so much
gained to the nation. But it must be observed, that none of the great
offices, of which the strongest complaint is made, are touched, that the
Sinecures are as safe as ever, and that the majority of these abolished
places were held by poor officials, whom the public would most
regret to see deprived of their pittance. We have thus 78 officers of
dockyards, and 126, whose offices are too obscure to have a name. The
abolition of the 46 " Receivers-General" of England is, however, a
public good, and to this extent we give credit to Lord Althorp's pruning-
knife.

We next come to a still more anxious topic, the taxes to be levied or
extinguished. The taxes to be reduced originally were —

" Tobacco, reduction of fifty per cent.
Newspapers, stamp-paper duty reduced to 2d.

Ditto advertisement-duty reduced to Is. for advertisements of less

than ten lines, and 2s. 6d. for such as are of more than ten lines.
Coals and slates, taxes abolished.
Candles, tax abolished.
Printed cottons, tax abolished.
Glass, tax abolished.

Sales of land by auction, and miscellaneous, in all 263 articles, taxes
abolished."

This is doing good so far as it goes. The abolition of the tax on
coals is capable of giving great relief, provided it be not counteracted
by the knaveries of the coal-owners. The tax on candles was a heavy
burthen, and its abolition will be gladly received ; but the tallow-
dealers and the manufacturers will do all that they can to put the first
profits of the abolition into their own pockets, by the usual arts of
monopoly. However, even they must give way at last, and share their
profits with the people. The tax on glass we are sorry to see is again laid
on, but no one can fairly regret that the noble Lord's second thoughts have
restored the tax on tobacco. The attempt to lighten this impost was

1831.] Europe, and the British Parliament. 251

one of the oddest modes of administering to national prosperity that ever
entered into the ministerial brain. Were not our streets sufficiently
infested with tobacco already ? is there not a cigar in the mouth of three-
fourths of our shopkeepers ? and how were we to call the further
propagation of this national nuisance a public benefit ? But if Lord
Althorp thought that he could draw into the revenue the sum now paid
to the smugglers, he was mistaken. No contrivance of his could bring
it down to its price on the French coast, whence a puif of wind and three
hours sail will bring it into England. If we are to be told that the
poor man's comforts are to be attended to, we say that the use of tobacco
is one of the most injurious presents that can be made to the poor man,
or to the rich. That it undoubtedly enfeebles the bodily health in a
remarkable degree, dozes the understanding, and where much used,
destroys all inclination to the active pursuits of either mind or body.
It is a minor kind of opium, and like it, however comfortable to those to
whom use has made it second nature, is productive of diseases of the
lungs, and of general debility, itself amounting to disease. If legisla-
tors have found it their best policy to substitute mild liquors for gin and
other deleterious excitements, notwithstanding their productiveness to
the revenue, we might understand the wisdom of Lord Althorp's policy
in laying a triple tax on an offensive, and even an injurious article ;
certainly not in taking it off, while there were so many others on which
any degree of alleviation would be received with national gratitude.

The whole amount of the relief to the public on these various items is
estimated at £4,160,000. ; of loss to the revenue, £3,200,000. The loss
Lord Althorp proposed to make up by an equalization of the duties on
wines, which he would change from 7s. 3d. for French, 4s. lOd. for
Peninsular, and 2s. 3d. for Cape, to 5s. 6d. ; by an addition to the
timber-duty, by which that on the load of European timber will be
raised to 50s., and on the load of Canadian, to 20s. ; a new duty of Id.
per Ib. on raw cotton imported, with a drawback of equal amount ; a
tax on steam-boat passengers, where the distance does not exceed 20
miles, Is., from 20 to 30, 2s., above 30 miles, 2s. 6d. ; 10s. per cent, on
the actual sale of landed property, and 10s. per cent, on the actual
transfer of funded property. The whole calculated amount of these
new taxes is £2,740,000. — The rise on Cape wine is since withdrawn.

Great discontent had arisen with respect to the tax on the transfer of
funded property ; and it was subsequently withdrawn, on the ground
of its being a breach of faith with the public creditor The tax on
steam-boat passengers has also excited some animadversion. But if
there must be taxes, we scarcely know where one could be better placed
than on steam-boat passengers. The cheapness of passage from Ireland
has overflowed the entire west of England with the rambling Irish, who
came nominally to work, but really to beg annually in England. The
price of their passage is said to be often as low as three-pence a head ;
and as the journey and voyage are made much more for the sake of the
adventure, than from any real necessity, we should by no means regret
any impost which could stop the incursion. The whole affair is looked
upon as a frolic by the Irish population, a gay summer excursion, while
it actually reduces them, in a multitude of instances, to the most
miserable destitution, crowds the roads of England with them as beggars,
and, in not one instance out of a hundred, sends them back a shilling

2 K 2

252 Europe, and the British Parliament. [MARCH,

richer than when they came. As to the Margate steam-boats, the spirit
of competition will still keep down the price ; and if, as we conceive,
150,000 passengers go down the river in a season, their profits will still
be considerable.

Lord Althorpe concluded his statement with a general view of the
financial state of the country. — " The income for the year 1830, was
£50,060,000. If from this sum were deducted the loss by the taxes
taken off in 1830, which amounted to £2,910,000, the income left for
the present year would be £47,150,000. Now he found that, owing to
the increased consumption which had been created of several articles by
the reduction of the taxes upon them, there was an arrear due to the
Excise of £580,000, at the beginning of this year, more than there was
at the commencement of the last. He might therefore reckon upon that
sum as part of the increased revenue for the year, and then it was
£47,730,000. He deducted from this sum the taxes which he had taken
off, and which he estimated at £3,190,000; and this left £44,540,000 for
the revenue of the year. He added to this sum £2,740,000 for the
amount of the new taxes which were to be imposed ; and that raised
the income to £47,280,000. Deducting from this sum the estimated
expenditure for the year, which he had before shewn would be
£46,850,000, it would leave a clear surplus of £430,000. These were
the propositions which he intended to submit to the consideration of the
House. It happened he had shewn them that very morning to a gen-
tleman who was well skilled in matters of finance, and had asked him
what he believed would be the result of them upon the country? His
friend told him that the monied interest of the country would not like
them, but that the manufacturing interest would. He thought that
this was the greatest praise which his system could receive."

Some keen encounters have occurred in the House of Lords, between
Lord King and the bishops. His lordship amuses himself with those
displays of his reading, and as decorum prevents his adversaries from
advancing beyond the line of argument, he gains his point, which is
the laugh. The bishops, of course, vindicated the right to the Tithes,
but seemed not unwilling to allow that some modification in the mode
of collecting them might be desirable. Lord King immediately exhi-
bited his fertility in projects, by presenting them with three plans,
which however have not the merit of novelty of any kind. A state-
ment from the Quarterly Review gives the closest account that we have
seen of the actual value of that part of the tithes which is contributed
to the clergy, in all their ranks.

" Total number of acres in England and Wales 37,694,400

Deduct waste land, about one-seventh 5,299,200

Number of acres in tillage 31,795,200

Abbey-land, or land exempt by modus from tithe, one-
tenth 3,179,520

umber of acres actually subject to tithe 28,615,680

This number, divided by 10,693, the number of parishes, gives 2,676 tithe-
able acres to each parish.

1831.] Europe, and the British Parliament. 253

In the Patronage of the Crown, the Bishops, Deans and Chapters, the Universities,

and Collegiate Establishments.
1,733 Rectories, containing 4,637,508 acres, at 3s. 6d. ...... £811,563

2,341 Vicarages, containing 6,264,516 acres, at Is. 3d 391,532

Annual Value of Public Livings 1,203,095

In the Gift of Private Patrons.

3,444 Rectories, containing 9,216,144 acres, at 3s. 6d 1,612,825

2,175 Vicarages, containing 5,820,300 acres, at Is. 3d 363,768

1,000 Perpetual Curacies, averaging £75. each 75,000

645 Benefices, not parochial, averaging £50. each 32,450

Annual Value of Private Benefices 2,084,043

8,000 Glebes, at £20. each 160,000

Total income of Parochial Clergy 3,447,138

Income of Bishoprics 150,000

Ditto of Deans and Chapters 275,000

Total Revenues of the Established Clergy .. 3,872,138"

It is thus seen that nearly twice the amount of the livings disposable
by the church, and even by the crown, are in the hands of private
individuals, and are in fact of the same nature as private property,
being capable of being sold like any other part of their property, of
being willed, &c. Thus of two millions, out of little more than three,
the possession is strictly belonging to the people themselves, which
it may be presumed, the owners are by no means willing to get rid of.
As for the general tithes of the kingdom, amounting to about eight
millions, five millions are computed to be in the possession of laymen,
and to be but another name for rent, with which the clergy have nothing
whatever to do, by service, or otherwise. In fact, after all the decla-
mation that has been wasted on the subject, the actual property of the
Established Church down to its lowest ranks, is not above a million
and a half a year, little more than a fiftieth part of the national
expenditure.

The state of Ireland continues anxious. O'Connell's trial and his
pleading guilty, or suffering judgment by default to pass against
him, does not appear to have checked the popular discontent in any
important degree, nor even to have checked himself. In a speech
which he addressed a few days since to one of those meetings, for
organizing which he had been arraigned, he told the multitude, that,
so far from pleading guilty, he still stood upon the law ; that so far
from making any compromise, he was more determined to advocate the
Repeal of the Union than ever ; and that he was then on the point
of setting off for London, to present the petitions for Repeal to the
Legislature. Mr. Stanley, the Irish Secretary, on being called on to
state whether any compromise had been entered into with O'Connell,
declared himself in the negative in the strongest terms, and stated that
he would be brought up for judgment, like any other person found
guilty.

Yet with all those declarations, there is something puzzling in the

254 Europe, and the British Parliament. [[MARCH,

general aspect of the affair. We cannot understand how an indivi-
dual charged with one of the most violent and direct offences imaginable
to the public peace, and the King's direct authority — the attempt to
excite a spirit which has been pronounced by the Government the im-
mediate precursor of civil war, and whose results upon the public mind
of Ireland must be disastrous, in the extreme ; yet should find the
means of repeating all the mischief that he had done before, of
haranguing, defying, and finally coming over to England to propagate,
by his privilege of Parliament, every sentiment he may please to utter.
If his seizure were for the purpose of preventing this, its purpose has
failed already. His pleading guilty, if he have so pleaded, which he
denies, has not plucked a feather from his popularity ; and his speech,
after this kind of trial, is not less defying and contemptuous than
before.

The truth is, that we cannot pin our faith to the statement that no
compromise has been entered into. Perhaps no formal compromise has
occurred. But if the Irish Government had acted according to the
usual proceeding, we should have expected to find the accused instantly
brought up for judgment, the sentence of the Judge directly follow^
ing the verdict of the Jury, and the convict immediately undergoing
the result of his conviction. This was the case in the English state
trials, and we never heard of the culprits being let loose to harangue
when and where they would immediately after, suffered to approach the
legislature, or talk of writs of error, and the other inventions and eva-
sions of legal dexterity. One thing at least is certain, that the result of
this mismanaged affair is to make O'Connell's partizans talk more auda-
ciously than ever, while it has to an extraordinary degree damped the
reliance of the friends of order upon the activity of the law.

The only individual who has undergone any real inconvenience on
the occasion is the unlucky Lord Lieutenant, who with rather unneces-
sary curiosity, or chivalry, or perhaps relying on the "love" which
his epistolary exertions might be presumed to have wrought for him
among the rabble, during the height of the excitement produced by the
appearance of the conspirators in Court and other concomitant circum-
stances, rode from the Castle, accompanied by one of his sons, through
the crowded streets to the Courts, the very centre of the confusion,
where his Lordship experienced not only the insults which words and
hootings and yells could convey, but was pelted, and forced to dismount,
in consequence of the pony he rode having been hit on the neck bjj a
stone. Having subsequently found it necessary to quicken his pace to a
gallop, the mob followed, uttering the most violent execrations and
throwing mud— the Guard ran to arms, and his Excellency reached the
Castle in safety, but bearing ample evidence on his person of the popu-
lar feeling against him.

However insolent the treatment mi.^ht be to any individual, we have
no very vehement sorrows for the insulted person on this occasion. The
Marquis wanted a lesson in politics, and he has got it. The pitiful sacri-
fices which he madeto win mob popularity have now found the true reward,
and he at last may feel that to recommend " agitation, agitation, agita-
tion," however it may secure a few huzzas for the time, has a natural
tendency to end in such favours as he received on his late ride through
the streets of Dublin !

1831.] Europe, and the British Parliament. 255

The Last topic which forces itself on the public attention is Parlia-
mentary Reform. To speak of the ministerial plan would be premature.
But the real sentiment of the nation is easily ascertained. The conduct
of the apostate parliament of 1829, so thoroughly disgusted every man
of honour, that all are now satisfied that some change in the mode of
choosing representatives is necessary. Nothing could be clearer than
that the Parliament of 1829 represented a party and not the people. The
abominations too, of the hustings, the bribery, treating, and collusions
of all kinds, the purchases, and other vilenesses, which have been
declared to be notorious as the sun at noon-day, have entirely disturbed
the confidence with which the people looked to the old system. And
the Tories are now perhaps the loudest and the most determined in
seeing that the system shall be purified. They desire to keep aloof
f romthe extravagant theories of Radicalism : they pronounce the doc-
trine of universal suffrage a gross absurdity, annual parliaments a
burlesque, and the ballot an indignity to the common sense and charac-
ter of England. They have no objection to see rank and wealth,
particularly when connected with high character and public spirit, exert
their natural influence in elections, as they have a right to do in all
public interests. But they fully agree with those who say that the sale
of seats in parliament is a scandal, that the purchase of votes at
elections is an incitement to perjury, and that the return of members for
places which have no electors, or next to none, the Old Sarums, West-
burys, and others of their class, is not to be endured any longer.
They say that their resistance to Parliamentary Reform arose merely
from their suspicion that its most violent advocates meant Parliamentary
Revolution, and from their belief that from various counteracting
causes, it, on the whole, " worked well." But having at length worked
ill, in the most signal instance that had put public good or evil into the
hands of a parliament, for a century, they have altogether acknow-
ledged the necessity of some change, not which would give the House
of Commons more power, for it has enough ; nor the people more, for
in a legislative sense they should have none ; but which would make it
more difficult for men to enter the House by dishonest arts for dishonest
purposes. They agree with those who desire to see every Englishman
of mature age and a certain property, entitled to vote, whether the rate
of property be regulated by actual income, or by the simpler way of
the amount of his taxes payable to the king. The Tories have no
quarrel with the present ministry, they charge them with none of the
vilenesses of the last, they wait to see what they will do — and then by
their deeds they will judge them.

[ 256 ] [MARCH,

THE TIGER'S CAVE.*

ABOUT three years since, after a short residence in Mexico, I
embarked for Guayaquil, in order to visit from thence the celebrated
mountains of Quito. On arriving at Guayaquil, I found there two tra-
vellers, who were preparing to take the same route. These were Cap-
tain Wharton, an English naval officer ; and a young midshipman,
named Lincoln. The frigate which Wharton commanded had suffered
considerably in her voyage through the South Seas ; and as it was now
undergoing the necessary repairs, Wharton resolved to devote some of
his leisure time to visiting the forests and mountains of Quito. It was
quickly agreed that we should make the journey together. I found
Wharton a frank and open-hearted man ; and his young favourite, Lin-
coln, a youth of eighteen, had a handsome sun-burnt countenance, with
an expression of determined bravery.

We set out on a fine clear morning, attended by my huntsman, Frank,
and two Indians, as guides. On beginning to ascend the mountain, the
scenery became more enchanting at every step. The mighty Andes, like
a vast amphitheatre, covered to their summits with gigantic forests,
towered aloft ; the snow-crested Chimborazo reared its proud front ; the
terrific Cotopaxi sent forth volumes of smoke and flame ; and innume-
rable other mountains, branching from the far-spreading Cordilleras,
faded away in the distance. With an involuntary shudder, I entered
the narrow path that leads into the magnificent forest. The monkeys
leaped from branch to branch ; the paroquets chattered incessantly ; and
the eagles, from amidst the tall cypresses where they had built their
nests, sent down a wild cry. The farther we advanced, new objects
presented themselves on every side : the stately palms, with their broad
sword-like leaves ; the singular soap-tree ; the splendid mongolia ; the
tall wax-tree, and the evergreen-oak, reared themselves proudly over
the orange groves, with whose fragrance was blended the aromatic per-
fume of the vanilla.

Towards evening, our guides began to quicken their pace, and we
hastened after them. In a short time, they uttered a shout of joy, of
which we quickly discovered the cause. By the light of a large fire,
which was kindled in an open space of the forest, we descried a little
Indian village, consisting of several huts erected on trunks of trees, and
to which were appended ladders of reeds. The Indian who was em-
ployed in replenishing the fire, answered the cry of our guides in a
similar tone ; and, after a short conference, we were conducted into one
of the huts, where we passed the night.

Early in the morning, we again resumed our way through the deep
shade of the forest, and in due time stopped to enjoy a repast under a
broad-leaved palm. Suddenly, one of the Indians motioned us to be
silent, and bending his ear to the ground, appeared to be listening to
some sound, which, however, was unheard by us. We paused, and
attentively watched his motions. In a few minutes he arose, and
beckoned us to follow him into the forest : he stopped often, and laid
his ear to the ground, and shortly after we heard a female voice shrieking
for help. We hurried on ; with difficulty restraining our young mid-
shipman from advancing before the rest of the party ; and had proceeded
but a short way, when the shriek was repeated close beside us. We

« We give this narration upon Danish authority. It is related by A. F. Elm-
quist, of Copenhagen. — [Eo.

1831. J The Tiger's Cave. 257

stopped, on a motion from our guides, who, parting gently the inter-
vening boughs, gave to view a scene which caused us hastily to grasp
our arms.

In an open space blazed a large fire, round which were seated several
men in tattered uniforms : they were armed, and appeared to be holding
a consultation regarding a beautiful Indian girl, who was bound with
cords to a tree. The Indians prepared their bows and arrows ; but we
beckoned them to desist, until we gave the signal for attack. On the
termination of the conference, one of the men approached the girl, and
said, " So, ycu will not*conduct us to your village ?M — " No," answered
the young Indian, firmly, but sobbing. — " Good child !" he replied,
with a scornful laugh, " so you will not be persuaded to lead us to your
hut?" — a No" she again replied. — " We shall see how long the bird
will sing to this tune ;" — and with these words, the ruffian snatched a
brand from the fire, and again approached her. We hastened to get
ready our guns ; but the impetuosity of Lincoln could not be restrained,
and casting his from him, he sprung forward just as the brand had
touched the shoulder of the girl, and struck the villain lifeless to the earth.
At the same instant, the Indian arrows whistled through the air, and
wounded two of the others, but not, it appeared, dangerously, as they
fled with their terrified comrades.

Our midshipman, meanwhile, had unbound the girl, who, the instant
she was free, knelt before him, and poured out her gratitude in the most
impassioned language. We learned that her name was Yanna, and that
her parents dwelt in a village in one of the deepest recesses of the forest
— that she had left home early in the morning to gather cocoa — and
that, having strayed too far, she had suddenly found herself surrounded
by the ruffians from whom we had just rescued her, and who had endea-
voured, by threats and violence, to force her to guide them to the vil-
lage. We could not withstand her prayers to accompany her home.
There we were quickly surrounded by the Indians, whom we found to
possess an almost European fairness of complexion. Yanna immediately
ran up to her parents, who were chiefs of the tribe, and spoke to them
with animation, using all the while the most expressive gestures. As
soon as she had finished her narrative, her parents hastened forward,
and kneeling before us, kissed our hands with expressions of the deepest
gratitude ; and the whole of the tribe knelt along with them, pouring
forth mingled thanks and blessings. Then on a sudden they started
up, and seizing us, they bore us in triumph to the hut of the chief,
where we were treated with the utmost hospitality. Wharton smiled to
me as he remarked, that our young midshipman and Yanna had disap-
peared together. Shortly after, Yanna returned, holding Lincoln with
one hand, and carrying in the other a chaplet of flowers, which she
immediately placed on his head. On the following morning we again
set out, and as we parted, the beautiful eyes of Yanna were filled with
tears.

On leaving the village, we continued to wind round Chimborazo's
wide base ; but its snowy head no longer shone above us in clear bril-
liancy, for a dense fog was gradually gathering round it. Our guides
looked anxiously towards it, and announced their apprehensions of a
violent storm. We soon found that their fears were well-founded. The
fog rapidly covered and obscured the whole of the mountain ; the atmos-
phere was suffocating, and yet so humid that the steel-work of our

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 6& 2 L

258 The Tiger's .Cave. [MARCH,

watches was covered with rust, and the watches stopt. The river beside
which we were travelling rushed down with still greater impetuosity ;
and from the clefts of the rocks which lay on the left of our path, were
suddenly precipitated small rivulets, that bore the roots of trees, and
innumerable serpents, along with them. These rivulets often came down
so suddenly and so violently, that we had great difficulty in preserving
our footing. The thunder at length began to roll, and resounded through
the mountainous passes. Then came the lightning, flash following flash
— above, around, beneath — every where a sheet of fire. We sought a
temporary shelter in a cleft of the rocks, whilst one of our guides has-
tened forward to seek a more secure asylum. In a short time, he
returned ; he had discovered a spacious cavern. We proceeded thither
immediately, and with great difficulty,, and not a little danger, at last got
into it.

The noise and raging of the storm continued with so much violence,
that we could not hear the sound of our own voices. I had placed
myself near the entrance of the cave, and could observe, through the
opening, which was straight and narrow, the singular scene without.
The highest cedar-trees were struck down, or bent like reeds ; monkeys
and parrots lay strewed upon the ground, killed by the falling branches ;
the water had collected in the path we had just passed, and hurried
along it like a mountain- stream. When the storm had somewhat abated,
our guides ventured out in order to ascertain if it were possible to con-
tinue our journey. The cave in which we had taken refuge was so
extremely dark, that, if we moved a few paces from the entrance, we
could not see an inch before us ; and we were debating as to the pro-
priety of leaving it even before the Indians came back, when we sud-
denly heard a singular groaning or growling in the farther end of the
cavern, which instantly fixed all our attention. Wharton and myself
listened anxiously ; but our daring and inconsiderate young friend, Lin-
coln, together with my huntsman, crept about upon their hands and
knees, and endeavoured to discover, by groping, from whence the sound
proceeded. They had not advanced far into the cavern, before we heard
them utter an exclamation of surprise ; and they returned to us, each
carrying in his arms an animal singularly marked, and about the size
of a cat, seemingly of great strength and power. Wharton had scarcely
glanced at them, when he exclaimed in consternation, " Good God ! we

have come into the den of •" He was interrupted by a fecirful cry

of dismay from our guides, who came rushing precipitately towards us,
crying out, " A tiger ! a tiger !" — and, at the same time, with extra-
ordinary rapidity, they climbed up a cedar-tree, which stood at the
entrance of the cave, and hid themselves among the branches.

After the first sensation of horror and surprise, which rendered me
motionless for a moment, had subsided, I graspedmy fire-arms. Whar-
ton had already regained his composure and self-possession ; and he
called to us to assist him instantly in blocking up the mouth of the cave
with an immense stone, which fortunately lay near it. The sense of
approaching danger augmented our strength; for we now distinctly
heard the growl of the ferocious animal, and we were lost beyond redemp-
tion if it reached the entrance before we could get it closed. Ere this
was done, we could distinctly see the tiger bounding towards the spot,
and stooping in order to creep into his den by the narrow opening. At
this fearful moment, our exertions were successful, and the great stone
kept the wild beast at bay. There was a small open space, however,

3831.] The Tigers Cave.

left between the top of the entrance and the stone, through which we
could see the head of the animal, illuminated by its glowing eyes, which
it rolled, glaring with fury, upon us. Its frightful roaring, too, pene-
trated to the depths of the cavern, and was answered by the hoarse
growling of the cubs, which Lincoln and Frank had now tossed from
them. Our ferocious enemy attempted first to remove the stone with his
powerful claws, and then to push it with his head from its place ; and
these efforts, proving abortive, served only to increase his wrath. He
uttered a frightful howl, and his flaming eyes darted light into the
darkness of our retreat.

" Now is the time to fire at him !" said Wharton, with his usual
calmness ; " aim at his eyes ; the ball will go through his brain, and
we shall then have a chance to get rid of him."

Frank seized his double-barrelled gun, and Lincoln his pistols. The
former placed the muzzle within a few inches of the tiger, and Lincoln
did the same. At Wharton's command, they both drew the triggers at
the same moment; but no shot followed. The tiger, who seemed aware
that the flash indicated an attack upon him, sprang, growling, from the
entrance ; but, feeling himself unhurt, immediately turned back again,
and stationed himself in his former place. The powder in both pieces
was wet ; they, therefore, proceeded to draw the useless loading, whilst
Wharton and myself hastened to seek our powder-flask. It was so
extremely dark, that we were obliged to grope about the cave ; and at
last, coming in contact with the cubs, we heard a rustling noise, as if
they were playing with some metal substance, which we soon discovered
was the canister we were looking for. Most unfortunately, however,
the animals had pushed off the lid with their claws, and the powder had
been strewed over the damp earth, and rendered entirely useless. This
discovery excited the greatest consternation.

" All is over now," said Wharton ; " we have only to choose whether
we shall die of hunger, or open the entrance to the blood-thirsty mon-
ster without, and so make a quicker end of the matter."

So saying, he placed himself close behind the stone which for the
moment defended us, and looked undauntedly upon the lightning eyes
of the tiger. Lincoln raved and swore ; and Frank took a piece of
strong cord from his pocket, and hastened to the farther end of the cave,
I knew not with what design. We soon, however, heard a low stifled
groaning ; and the tiger, who heard it also, became more restless and
disturbed than ever. He went backwards and forwards before the
entrance of the cave in the most wild and impetuous manner, then
stood still, and stretching out his neck in the direction of the forest,
broke forth into a deafening howl. Our two Indian guides took advan-
tage of this opportunity to discharge several arrows from the tree. He
was struck more than once ; but the light weapons bounded back harm-
less from his thick skin. At length, however, one of them struck him
near the eye, and the arrow remained sticking in the wound. He now
broke anew into the wildest fury, sprang at the tree and tore it with
his claws. But having at length succeeded in getting rid of the arrow,
he became more calm, and laid himself down as before in front of the
cave.

Frank now returned from the lower end of the den, and a glance
shewed us what he had been doing. He had strangled the two cubs ;

2 L 2

2fiO The Tigers Cave. [MARCH,

and before we were aware of his intention, he threw them through the
opening to the tiger. No sooner did the animal perceive them than he
gazed earnestly upon them, and began to examine them closely, turning
them cautiously from side to side. As soon as he became aware that
they were dead, he uttered so piercing a howl of sorrow, that we were
obliged to put our hands to our ears. When I censured my huntsman
for the rashness and cruelty of the action, I perceived by his blunt and
abrupt answers that he also had lost all hope of rescue, and with it all
sense of the ties between master and servant.

The thunder had now ceased, and the storm had sunk to a gentle
gale ; we could hear the songs of birds in the neighbouring forest, and
the sun was streaming among the branches. The contrast only made
our situation the more horrible. The tiger had laid himself down beside
his whelps. He was a beautiful animal, of great size and strength, and
his limbs being stretched out at their full length, displayed his immense
power of muscle. All at once another roar was heard at a distance,
and the tiger immediately rose and answered it with a mournful howl.
At the same instant our Indians uttered a shriek, which announced that
some new danger threatened us. A few moments confirmed our worst
fears, for another tiger, not quite so large as the former, came rapidly
towards the spot where we were. " This enemy will prove more cruel
than the other," said Wharton ; " for this is the female, and she knows
no pity for those who deprive her of her young."

The howls which the tigress gave, when she had examined the bodies
of her cubs, surpassed every conception of the horrible that can be
formed; and the tiger mingled his mournful cries with her's. Suddenly
her roaring was lowered to a hoarse growling, and we saw her anxiously
stretch out her head, extend her nostrils, and look round, as if in search
of the murderers of her young. Her eyes quickly fell upon us, and
she made a spring forward with the intention of penetrating to our
place of safety. Perhaps she might have been enabled by her immense
strength to push away the stone, had we not, with all our united power,
held it against her. When she found that all her efforts were fruit-
less, she approached the tiger who lay stretched out beside his cubs,
and he rose and joined in her hollow roaring. They stood together
for a few moments as if in consultation, and then suddenly went off at
a rapid pace, and disappeared from our sight. Their howling died
away in the distance, and then entirely ceased. We now began to
entertain better hopes of our condition ; but Wharton shook his head— -
" Do not flatter yourselves," said he, " with the belief that these animals
will let us escape out of their sight till they have had their revenge.
The hours we have to live are numbered."

Nevertheless, there still appeared a chance of our rescue, for, to our
surprise, we saw both our Indians standing before the entrance, and
heard them call to us to seize the only possibility of flight, for that the
tigers had gone round the height, possibly to seek another inlet to the
cave. In the greatest haste the stone was pushed aside, and we stepped
forth from what we had considered a living grave. Wharton was the
last who left it ; he was unwilling to lose his double-barrelled gun, and
stopped to take it up ; the rest of us thought only of making our
escape. We now heard once more the roaring of the tigers, though at
a distance ; and following the example of our guides, we precipitately
struck into a side path. From the number of roots and branches of

1831.] The Tigers Cave. 261

trees with which the storm had strewed our way, and the slipperiness
of the road, our flight was slow and difficult.

We had proceeded thus for about a quarter of an hour, when we
found that our way led along the edge of a rocky cliff with innumerable
Assures. We had just entered upon it, when suddenly the Indians,
who were before us, uttered one of their piercing shrieks, and we imme-
diately became aware that the tigers were in pursuit of us. Urged
by despair, we rushed towards one of the breaks or gulfs in our way,
over which was thrown a bridge of reeds, that sprung up and down at
every step, and could be trod with safety by the light foot of the Indians
alone. Deep in the hollow below rushed an impetuous stream, and a
thousand pointed and jagged rocks threatened destruction on every side.
Lincoln, my huntsman, and myself, passed over the chasm in safety ;
but Wharton was still in the middle of the waving bridge, and endea-
vouring to steady himself, when both the tigers were seen to issue from
the adjoining forest ; and the moment they descried us they bounded
towards us with dreadful roarings. Meanwhile Wharton had nearly
gained the safe side of the gulf, and we were all clambering up the
rocky cliff except Lincoln, who remained at the reedy bridge to assist
his friend to step upon firm ground. Wharton, though the ferocious
animals were close upon him, never lost his courage or presence of mind.
As soon as he had gained the edge of the cliff he knelt down, and with
his sword divided the fastenings by which the bridge was attached to
the rock. He expected that an effectual barrier would thus be put to
the further progress of our pursuers ; but he was mistaken, for he had
scarcely accomplished his task, when the tigress, without a moment's
pause, rushed towards the chasm, and attempted to bound over it. It
was a fearful sight to see the mighty animal for a moment in the air
above the abyss ; but her strength was not equal to the distance — she
fell into the gulf, and before she reached the bottom she was torn into
3, thousand pieces by the jagged points of the rocks. Her fate did not
in the least dismay her companion, he followed her with an immense
spring, and reached the opposite side, but only with his fore claws ;
and thus he clung to the edge of the precipice, endeavouring to gain a
footing. The Indians again uttered a wild shriek, as if all hope had
been lost. But Wharton, who was nearest the edge of the rock,
advanced courageously towards the tiger, and struck his sword into the
animal's breast. Maddened with pain, the furious beast collected all
his strength, and fixing one of his hind legs upon the edge of the cliff,
he seized Wharton by the thigh. That heroic man still preserved his
fortitude ; hej grasped the stem of a tree with his left hand, to steady
and support himself, while with his right he wrenched, and violently
turned the sword that was still in the breast of the tiger. All this was
the work of an instant. The Indians, Frank, and myself, hastened to
his assistance; but Lincoln, who was already at his side, had seized
Wharton's gun, which lay near upon the ground, and struck so powerful
a blow with the butt end upon the head of the tiger, that the animal,
stunned and overpowered, let go his hold, and fell back into the abyss.
The unhappy Lincoln, however, had not calculated upon the force of
his blow : he staggered forward, reeled upon the edge of the precipice,
extended his hand to seize upon any thing to save himself — but in vain.
For an instant he hovered over the gulf, and then fell into it, to rise no
more.

262 The Tiger's Cave. [MARCH,

We gave vent to a shriek of horror — then for a few minutes there
was a dead and awful silence. When we were able to revert to our
own condition, I found Wharton lying insensible on the brink of the
precipice. We examined his wound, and found that he was torn dread-
fully. The Indians collected some herbs, the application of which stop-
ped the bleeding, and we then bound up the mangled limb. It was
now evening, and we were obliged to resolve upon passing the night
under the shelter of some cleft in the rocks. The Indians made a fire
to keep the wild beasts from our couch ; but no sleep visited my eyes.
I sat at Wharton's bed and listened to his deep breathings. It became
more and more hard and deep, and his hand grasped violently, as if
in convulsive movements. His consciousness had not returned, and in
this situation he passed the whole night. In the morning the Indians
proposed to bear our wounded friend back to the village we had left
the previous day. They plaited some strong branches together, and
formed a bridge to repass the gulf. It was a mournful procession. On
the way Wharton suddenly opened his eyes, but instantly closed them
again, and lay as immoveable as before. Towards evening we drew
near our destination ; and our Indian friends, when they saw our situa-
tion, expressed the deepest sympathy; but the whole tribe assembled
round us, and uttered piercing cries of grief, when they learnt poor Lin-
coln's fate. Yanna burst into tears ; and her brothers hastened away,
accompanied by some other Indians, in search of the body. I remained
with my wounded friend ; he still lay insensible to every thing around
him. Sleep at length overpowered me. Towards morning, a song of
lamentation and mourning aroused me — it was from the Indians, who
were returning with Lincoln's body. Yanna was weeping beside it.
I hastened to meet them,, but was glad to turn back again, when my
eyes fell upon the torn and lifeless body of our young companion. The
Indians had laid him upon the tigers' skins, which they had strewed
with green boughs ; and they now bore him to the burial-place of their
tribe. Yanna sacrificed on his tomb the most beautiful ornament she
possessed — her long black hair — an offering upon the grave of him who,
it is possible, had first awakened the feelings of tenderness in her inno-
cent bosom.

On the third day, as I sat at Wharton's bed, he suddenly moved ; he
raised his head, and opening his eyes, gazed fixedly upon a corner of
the room. His countenance changed in a most extraordinary manner ;
it was deadly pale, and seemed to be turning to marble. I saw that
the hand of death was upon him. <f All is over," he gasped out, while
his looks continued fixed upon the same spot ; " there it stands !'* — and
he fell back and expired.

1831.] [ 263 ]

COAL DUTY AND COAL TRICKERY.*

UNLUCKY as the new Chancellor of the Exchequer has been with
his Budget, the Coal Duty meets with no opposition, and will, it may
be presumed, let who will be ministers, be finally repealed. If ever
tax deserved to be branded with the epithet of atrocious, that upon
Coal does — it falls in a cold and wintry country, where other fuel is
not to be got, upon a necessary of life, a necessary as essential for the
poor as the rich — with a most preposterous selection, it falls exclusively
upon regions the most remote from the source of supply. The coal
exists only in the north and west; the rest of the country, east, south,
and south-west, can procure it only by importation, and, from tlie dis-
tance, only by sea : and this sea-importation it is, which the equity of
the government has long burdened with a tax of. six shillings a chaldron.
In the districts where coal is to be had for the digging, no tax is levied —
so that those precisely who can best afford to pay, are studiously exempted.
Those who can most readily get at the coal, are gratuitously left un-
touched, while those who, from their geographical position, are com-
pelled to pay dearly for the cost of conveyance — to make the matter
worse — are perversely saddled with a heavy and vexatious incumbrance.
The advantage was already with the coal countries, and of course, if a
tax was, in spite of all consistency and humanity, to be raised upon
this article of necessity, they were the parties to levy it upon. The
more distant parts of the country must of necessity pay smartly to pro-
cure it, and should at least be suffered to procure it at the cheapest rate,
and not be compelled to pay also for the right of purchasing. The
first duty of a government professedly instituted for the benefit of the
whole community, is to balance, to the full extent of the practicable,
the inequalities arising from natural as well as artificial circumstances.

But not only is this tax upon coal conveyed by sea, thus oppressive —
by a kind of political favoritism, it is not levied universally — a whole
region is privileged — the whole coast of Scotland is exempted from
this sea-duty — and why ? Because Scotland, for more than half a cen-
tury, has always had a friend at court ! She escapes, not because she
is poor, but because she has influence, and cannily makes the most of it.
The Monmouthshire Canal Company, too, contrived to wheedle the same
favour from the government of 1797 ; they obtained — by what means
it will not, perhaps, be easy now to discover — the privilege of export-
ing, duty-free, as far west as the Holmes' Islands at the mouth of the
Channel, within which limits come Bristol and Bridgewater, and other
populous places. The consequence is, that Newport, the seat of the
Company's trade, exports 550,000 tons annually, while Cardiff, at a
very short distance from Newport, and quite as well supplied with
coals, can export at the most, only 60,000.

The tax will now, however, without doubt, be disposed of; but the
effects it has mainly contributed to produce, will not speedily vanish
with it. The coal districts have become almost exclusively the seats
of our manufacturers. They must go, now that steam-machinery enters
into all of them, where coals are cheap ; but had the trade been free,
uncrippled by this iniquitous tax, the growing facilities of conveyance
would long ago have all but equalized advantages, and made it almost
as desirable to prosecute manufactures in one spot as in another. The
perpetuation of the tax, has by degrees drawn all to the same neighbour-
hood; the consequences are comparative desolation and desertion in three-

* Observations on the Duty of Sea-borne Coal, &c. Longman and Co. 1JJ30.

264 Coal Duly, and Coal Trickery. [[MARCH,

fourths of the country, while the remainder is covered with a dense mass
of people, that threatens, on every occasion of excitement, a popular
commotion. But for this destructive tax, we repeat, our manufactures
would have been more equally diffused, every district would have
shared in the beneficial results that spring up in the confines of acti-
vity, and none would have been drained to supply demands at a dis-
tance, at the cost of its own prosperity. Norwich, once a flourishing
seat of manufactures, has been materially affected by this very tax. As
long as yarn was spun by hand, all that was used in the town was spun
on the spot : but when machinery was employed, Norwich lost wholly
this branch of her industry, not because her people were less indus-
trious, or less disposed to adopt the use of machinery, but simply
because the heavy duty on coal forbade their competing with the
machinery of the north. The export duty to Ireland, too, though less
than the home duty, has long been one of the most effective hindrances
to the prosecution of manufactures in that forsaken country.

This six-shilling duty, however, is not the only grievance that sur-
charges coals — they are encumbered with others, and those also,
most of them, originating in the busy-body spirit of interference, which
has characterised the government of England, more especially, for a
century past. The government,indeed,'never stirs voluntarily — it is always
set in motion by interested parties, and interest is never at rest ; and
thus it is, that we see law after law passed for the sake and benefit of
particular " interests," as they are rightly enough termed, while those of
the community are wholly overlooked. Coals, even withdrawing the
six-shilling duty, are at enormous prices — "Oh, all of course/' is the
common cry, " the results of monopoly on the part of the coal pro-
prietors." The assertion is false in fact, and fatal in its effects. It has
silenced inquiry for years. Yet one plain fact is enough to repel the
charge — the coals which cost the consumer 50s. are sold by the owner
at 12s. or 14s. What becomes of the difference? We shall see pre-
sently.

But first, we have a word or two with respect to this 12s. or 14s.,
the price which the owner receives. Monopoly, as we have said, we do
not believe, for coal owners are a numerous body, and the trade is
accessible to capitalists — we do not believe it exists to any extent worth
insisting upon ; but this 12s. or 14s. were it not for legislative inter-
ference, might itself be reduced at least a fourth. Nothing but LARGE
coals are shipped for London and the coast. The coals are screened,
that is, before they are shipped, they are thrown over a grating, which
lets the small pieces through ; and this smaller coal, amounting to a fifth
and often a fourth of the whole, though it costs just as much to bring it
from the pit, is burnt upon the spot in utter waste. The owners of
course are obliged to throw the loss upon the coals that are shipped —
which, together with the labour of screening, and the damage done by
the fires to the crops of the neighbourhood, swells the price from what
on the average might be 9s. or 10s. to 12s. or 13s. Nor should it be
overlooked, that this refuse coal is not nearly so small as every body,
especially in London, finds the coal he daily burns to be ; — and that,
but for some particular interests, it would be shipped along with the
large, without discrimination.

Now what particular interests are these ? Those of the shippers.
And how is it their interest to reject the small and insist upon the large ?
Because the laws interpose and direct coals to be retailed not by weight
but by measure ; and the retailer finds that coal in a small state measures

1831.] Coal Duty, and Coal Trickery. 265

more advantageously than it weighs. The same quantity in a broken
state will fill up a given measure sooner than in an unbroken state. The
difference is very much greater than would be at first imagined by any
one. A cubic yard of coal will break into small pieces that will fill a
space of almost double the dimensions. The consequence is, that what
is sold as a chaldron of coals at the screening place, before it comes to
the consumer's cellars, gets broken often into a chaldron and a half,
and never less, certainly, than a chaldron and a third. At every change
of hands, from the shipper to the retailer, in succession, the coals get a
new breaking, till finally, the lowest dealer depends wholly for his pro-
fit upon the breakage ; and thus the poor get nothing but dust, and
every body else is compelled to burn a bad article instead of a good one.
The complaint of small coal is universal, and here is the obvious cause.
A change from measuring to weighing would, first and last, effect a dimi-
nution in the ultimate cost of another six shillings.

Every body complains, we say, of coals, and is ready enough to
suspect all is not right in the dealer. But people direct their suspicions
to the wrong point. If they have full measure, with a few roundish
coals, they seem to themselves to have justice, or at least, all that is
within their reach. But this full measure, we see, is no security against
their being cheated. The more coal is broken, the greater space it fills.
The more coal is broken, the more the consumer is cheated ; and there-
fore every man may judge for himself to what extent he is cheated; but,
under the existing laws, he has no remedy. To change his dealer, is
of little use ; for, of course, every dealer breaks. The tacit combina-
tion of the coal-merchants is universal — for small coal, in London, is uni-
versal; and complaint is answered by an impudent assurance that it is
the nature of the coal. Not one in a thousand knows, or at least
believes that nothing but large coal is shipped, and that it is pounded in
its passage through the hands of successive dealers.

But, even if coals were sold by weight, the seller, it is hastily said,
will add to their weight by welting, and so nothing will be gained — it
will be but a shifting of fraud. Nobody, of course, hopes to obtain
perfect security against all fraud. The grasping spirit of trade is
cunning almost past finding out ; but wetting coal is not a source of
fraud that will even pay its own expence. Every man can see if
the coals which are brought to his cellar are wet ; and the fault is his
own if he takes them in such state, while the option is with him to
refuse them. The matter has been put to the test of experiment. Two
hundred- weight of coal, or 228 Ibs. were thoroughly wetted, and put
into a wet sack, and immediately weighed. They had gained 28 Ibs., or
one eighth. After standing one hour — they will drain — the additional
weight was reduced to 20f Ibs. ; at the end of three hours, it was only
14 Ibs. ; arid at the end of six hours, when the weight was still farther
reduced, the coals were, after all, too wet to be sent to a consumer.
These, it will be observed, were small coals.

Good-sized coals — every one will recognize the .force of the term
without our closely defining the dimensions — when they were wetted
and weighed in the same way, were found at the end of three hours to
have gained only 6| Ibs. on the two hundred- weight ; and what every
one would call large coals, treated in the same way, at the end of the
same number of hours, gained only 4 Ibs, , Nothing, therefore, is to be
apprehended from wetting, whatever other frauds the sagacity and
cunning of the craft may eventually discover. Measuring, in short,
upon the authority of facts, beyond the daring of contradiction, occa-

M.M. New Scries.—VoL. XI. No. 63. 2 M

2(J6

Coal Duty, and Coal Trickery.

QMARCH,

sions the destruction of vast quantities of coal— r-opens a ready door to
the commission of fraud — and, of course, flings, proportionally, a burden
upon the consumer, who pays for all. The facts are irrefragable, and
nobody dreams of impugning them.

In the existing state of things, coals cost, we have said, originally,
that is, as purchased by the shippers, from 12s. to 14s. ; and they come
to the consumer, in London, as every body knows, on an average, at 50s.
The number of charges, great and small, from the owner's pit to the
consumer's cellar, is very considerable — of which, some few are possibly
no higher than is indispensable — some, however, are excessive — and
some quite superfluous and gratuitous. These last, in particular, are
all sanctioned by laws, which must be repealed, let who will be in
power, and let who will obstruct the repeal. Here are the parti-
culars.

CHARGES UP TO THE TIME OF ARRIVAL IN THE PORT OF
LONDON.

I. Coal-Owner. £. s. d. £ s. d.

Paid Coal-owners for Coals 014 0

Deduct Iliver Duty paid by him for Improvement of Sun-

derland Harbour 0 0 3

te 13 o

II. — 1. Coal-Fitter.

. Keel Dues, and Fittage (including Seven Miles' Water-

Carriage) 023

2. SMp-Oivner.

For Freight, including Insurance [of Ship and Cargo,
Pilotage, Seamen's Wages, Wear and Tear of the
Ship and Materials, discharging Ballast, &c 0 8 6i

3. Municipal Dues.

Iliver Duty, as above £0 0 3

Pier Duty, Lights, &c. paid by Ship 0 0 5£ 00

CHARGES IN THE PORT OF LONDON.

II.— 1. Government Tax. 060

2. Municipal Dues.

Trinity and Nore Lights, Tonnage Duty, Trinity

House for Ballast, &c £0 0 5

Entries, &c 0 0 2|

Corporation of London Metage 0 0 4

Ditto Orphans' Dues 0 0 10

Ditto Meter's Pay and Allowance 0 0 4

Ditto Market Dues 0 0 1

Ditto Lord Mayor's Groundage, &c 0 0 0£

Ditto Land Metage 006

Ditto Undertaker 0 0 1

Coal Whippers 0 17 04

3. Coal Factor.

Factorage and Del Credere Commission 0 0

4. Coal Merchant.

Buyer's Commission 0 1 0

Lighterage 0 2 0

Cartage 0 6 0

Credit 020

Shootage 0 1 6

(See Com. Rep. p. 8.) 0 12 6

Add for Discount, Scorage, and Ingrain.

(See same Hep. p. ».) ' 0 2 2| 014 .

1 5

Making the price paid by the Consumer 2 10 8

183 1 .] Coal Duty, and Coal Trickery. 267

Here then, we see, the charges upon coals, up to their arrival in Lon-
don, amount to about twenty-five shillings; and the charges, in the port
of London, and till they reach the hands of the consumer, to another
twenty-five shillings. The first portion consists of the coal-owner's
demands, which we have already glanced at sufficiently for our purpose,
and of the ship-owners' expences, including freight, &c. which we have
no intention at present to discuss. Apparently these charges cannot be
materially reduced — the trade is open, and competition, seemingly, brings
them to their lowest point. The cost of coast lights might perhaps be
diminished, especially if any of them be family properties, like Mr. Coke's,
at Dungeness ! We turn, therefore, to the other batch of charges, and
at the head of them stand the \te municipal dues ;' that is. charges made
upon coals by the corporation of London, or sanctioned by that body.
These, ten in number, amount, to avoid fractions, to four shillings and
sixpence the chaldron ; among them is what is pharisaically called the
Orphan's Duty-- a charge of tenpence the chaldron. This same duty
has been a grand job and juggle from the very beginning. It was
imposed by .statute in 1694, by Whig influence of course, to enable
the city to discharge a debt, which it had itself voluntarily incurred to
the Orphan charity. The sums raised by this duty extinguished
the said debt so far back as 1782 ; but it is still levied to
this very day. The corporation has had influence enough to get
one charge after another, on one pretence or another, fastened upon
this miserable orphan duty to this day, and at present the whole proceeds
are appropriated to the payment of the money borrowed for completing
the approaches to the New London Bridge.

The metage, again, deserves a v/ord or two. It is wholly the fruit
of the measuring laws, and is, besides, three or four times in amount
more than it need be, to compensate the labour. There are two sets of
meters, both appointed by the city — one to superintend the delivery of
coals from the ship, and upon their returns the duties are all levied,
The abolition of these duties would supersede the office ; but the
removal of the government duty alone will not. In one way or other,
these metres are paid 5|d per chaldron, or twenty-two farthings for
precisely the same duty as is done in the north for two. The other set
— land-meters — appointed still by the city — have 6d. a chaldron ; and it
appears, conclusively, from the evidence given to the Committee of the
House of Commons, that three-fourths of the coals are, after all, never
measured at all. Even if they were all actually measured, and any
security accompanied the measurement, the duty might be performed
for two-pence — but it is City patronage !

Among the municipal dues also figure the coal-whippers, at the cost
of no less than one shilling and seven-pence a chaldron. What is the
business of these coal-whippers ? To transfer coals from the ship to
the barge or lighter — no more. Well, but could this labour be done
for less ? Certainly it could. At Newcastle a chaldron of coals is
thrown into a waggon for three-halfpence ; and double that sum would,
without doubt, be a liberal allowance for transferring them from the ship
to the lighter, though it may be somewhat harder work. But, observe,
in all the outports, this labour is performed entirely by the ships' crews
themselves, and no extra charge whatever made for it — and why not in
the Thames? Because the City make a job of it, and employ none but

2 M 2

268 Coal Duty, and Coal Trickery. [MARCH,

their own men— they have the privilege of excluding all others, and, of
course, of defying all competition.

Into the smaller particulars it will be wearisome to enter — they are,
however, full of abuses. Our parting glance must be cast upon the
coal-merchant's charges. Here we see, among them, two shillings a
chaldron for lighterage, that is, for conveying coals from the ship in
lighters to the wharfs. Were the trade free — none but watermen free
of the City can engage in it now — this charge would be brought down
to about one-third. The difference of course goes to the City in money
or in patronage. In the Tyne river the conveyance of coals to the ships,
with a navigation of seven or eight miles into the bargain, costs only
Is. 6d., even though the labour of shoveling the coals from the keels
(coal-boats) through the port-holes, is far heavier and more toilsome than
from a lighter to the wharf.

In addition to the cartage, to which we cannot now advert, is a farther
charge of Is. 6d. a chaldron for shooting, that is, for unloading the
waggon, and dropping the coals into the consumer's cellar. Next to the
whippers' charge, this is the most impudent and extortionate. Thou-
sands of labourers would be glad to perform the same labour for a
groat — one of the witnesses before the Commons' committee declared
they would be glad to heave them back again for two-pence.

The elaborate packing, again — the curious and not untasteful arrange-
ment of the sacks in the waggons — and the very sacks themselves — all,
of course, adding to expence — are all perfectly superfluous. Let coals
be sold by weight, and close waggons may be filled, and emptied into
the cellars with half the trouble. Trouble implies time, and time
money. In Scotland — that favoured, or fortunate, or intelligent and
awakened land — this is the case. There, there is neither measuring nor
packing. At Edinburgh and Glasgow they weigh the coal, to check
the seller, on the machine, at the entrance of the town, and there is an
end, and security withal.

Without going farther into more of the minutiae of these charges, here
is surely enough to stir up every man that knows what the cost is of
keeping fires in his house, to join in one common and urgent demand,
to have these nuisances cut away at the root. On the very lowest com-
putation, ten shillings in every chaldron are added to the necessary
expense of coals — exclusive of the government duty, which will, of
course, now be abolished — and all by the mere operation of laws, which
sanction corporation encroachments, and facilitate, on all hands, the
execution of fraud upon fraud.

We have not noticed — we recollect too late — what is called the
" Richmond shilling" — a duty of one shilling a chaldron upon coals.
This duty is exacted upon the coals exported from the Tyne only ; but
of course it influences the price of all sea-borne coals — either the Tyne
shippers gain less, or all others gain more than the fair price — for all are
sold at the same price in London. This duty was imposed when kings
could do what they can dare no more. It was granted by Charles II.
as a provision for one of his sons, the young Duke of Richmond. Two-
and-thirty years ago the government compounded with the Duke of the
day, but the tax was not repealed — nor has one word been said about
repealing it even now '

1831.] [ 269 ]

IT has been a matter of surprise to many, that, while the press
has teemed with information in every possible shape from the favoured
regions of the Continent, whither the tide of English emigration has
flowed, none of our adventurous tourists have dared to cross the
Pyrenees, although the country beyond is as fair as the fertile plains of
Lombardy, and the far-famed Alps cannot boast of more romantic
features, nor half so varied, as that gigantic barrier which separates
Spain from the Continent.

Perhaps a salutary fear, caused by the recollection of that terrible
engine of despotism, the Inquisition, chills the heretical blood of an
Englishman ; or the alarming accounts which, from time to time, have
been whispered of the indifferent accommodations furnished by certain
houses of etertainment, called posadas, have contributed to damp the
ardour of our patriotic and enlightened travellers. Be this as it may, it
is no subject of regret with me ; for had abler pens been employed, I
question whether this specimen of my talents, as an author, had ever
seen the light. I have been engaged for many years in important com-
mercial transactions with Spain, and, undaunted by the difficulties to
which I have alluded, travelled during that time over the greater part
of that very interesting country. In default of better information, I
therefore propose to give a few sketches from actual observation, which
may best serve to illustrate Spanish character and customs, and not
prove unentertaining to the general reader.

My first journey into Spain was during the short-lived dominion of
the Constitution ; and as the alteration of the government had a corres-
ponding effect on the conduct of the people, creating some novel scenes
which it may be some time before we see again, I shall date my obser-
vations as far back as August, 1821, at which period I had made my
way from London to Bayonne, with my son as a companion, and
attended by one servant. On my arrival at Bayonne, I called on Cap-
tain Harvey, the British consul, by whose polite assistance our passports
were regulated for Madrid. At this period, the roads on the frontiers
were so infested with brigands, that travelling was considered a dan-
gerous pastime. They had burned all the public conveyances; and
to travel alone was neither safe nor economical. Fortunately, we found
a coach on its return to Madrid, which saved us further trouble or
delay. It was rather a crazy sort of vehicle ; but having no choice, I
agreed with the mayoral, or conductor, to set us down in Madrid within
the space of nine days, for eight napoleons, which was considered a good
bargain. We left Bayonne at twelve o'clock, accompanied by the Mar-
quis of Luco and two other Spanish gentlemen of rank, and arrived at St.
Jean de Luz the same evening. The next morning, we crossed the Bidas-
soa in a boat, the bridge having been destroyed by the French in their
retreat after the battle of Vittoria, and entered the province of Guipuscoa
in Spain. We continued our journey along the banks of the Bidassoa
until we arrived at Irun, the frontier town, when, after the accustomed
inspection of baggage and property, we were allowed to proceed. It was
suggested by one of our fellow-passengers, that we should hire horses,
and make an excursion to San Sebastian, which was at no great distance

* From the unpublished Notes of SIR PAUL BAGHOTT.

270 Spanish Highways and Byways. [MARCH,

from our route, and meet our carriage again at Hernani, the next stage.
To this proposal I gladly assented. Horses and mules were speedily
engaged,, though rather rudely caparisoned, and, under the conduct of
a guide, we commenced our detour.

We passed through a beautiful vale, richly covered with oak and
chestnut- trees, and proceeded till our progress was arrested by the Bay
of Pasages, which we crossed in a boat, sending our horses round to
meet us. The boat was conducted by two very interesting young
females, who evinced every disposition to be communicative ; but as
they spoke nothing but Basque, which unfortunately was unintelligible
to every one of our party, our understanding was limited to an ani-
mated pantomime, in which, however, they evidently had the advan-
tage. The features of these girls were eminently handsome ; their com-
plexion was of a clear olive, with sparkling black eyes, teeth as white as
alabaster, and their long black tresses gathered into a braid, hanging
down to the waist. They were finely formed, a little above the middle
height, and dressed in the costume of the country. They were altoge-
ther a fine specimen of the female beauty of Spain.

The Bay of Pasages forms a secure and spacious harbour. During
the siege of St. Sebastian it was filled with British ships of war and
transports, which supplied the besieging force with every thing neces-
sary for their operations. Near the small town of Pasages, which is
divided by the neck of the bay, and inhabited by fishermen, we
remounted our horses, and rode to St. Sebastian. This beautiful little
town, so celebrated in modern history stands on a small peninsula, the
natural defences of which are heightened by well-constructed fortifi-
cations, commanded by the citadel, which is built on the summit of a
conical mountain, having its base strongly defended by outworks. Both
the town and fortifications were at that time exactly in the same condition
as they were at the termination of the siege. The breaches effected in
the walls by our well-served batteries, and the dilapidated, tenantless
houses, presented a sad picture of the desolating effects of war. Many
streets were entirely deserted, and an unnatural stillness seemed to have
succeeded to scenes of strife. Cannon-balls and pieces of broken shells,
intermingled with fragments of ruined houses, were heaped together in
the silent streets — places formerly echoing with the busy hum of com-
merce, or the lighter sounds of hospitality, but now presenting a melan-
choly scene of loneliness and desolation. Few men can stand unmoved
on the spot which has been the theatre of glorious deeds ; and, as I
leaned against a huge fragment of the wall, which had fallen in the
breach, and surveyed the place where the work of carnage had been
most rife, it was with a melancholy feeling that I thought of the tran-
sitory meed of valour. In a few years, perhaps, fresh walls would
arise from the ruins on which I stood, and other battles be fought at
fheir feet — the recollection of former deeds would be effaced by the
brilliancy of later — and to the memory of thousands, who had shed their
blood before that very breach, nought would remain but a single line of
history to record the event their lives had purchased. A few years
more, and the stranger would unconsciously repose on the grave of
heroes, and the listless hind crush with his plough the mouldering bones
of the brave !

Having refreshed ourselves with that most sentimental of fare, fruit
and wine, we remounted our horses, and, at about the distance of a

1831.] Spanish Highways and Byways. 271

league, reached Hernani, where we rejoined our carriage. Before the
evening closed, we arrived at Tolosa, the capital of Guipuscoa. The
country through which we had travelled was particularly interesting ;
the mountains on each side of the road rose one above the other in
graceful outline, and were clothed to their summits with verdure ; the
valley was highly cultivated, and the river Oria meandered through the
meadows, sometimes forming picturesque cascades as it broke over
the huge stones and fragments of rock which occasionally impeded its
course. The posada, to which we were conducted by the mayoral,
though it bore the respected and gallant sign of the Cross of Malta, was
not one which the fastidious traveller would have chosen for his resting-
place. We soon foon found the interior was as comfortless as the exte-
rior was unpromising. The only room for the entertainment of guests
was a large dining-apartment, which contained a table and a few chairs,
and also several beds, placed in recesses or alcoves, as our domitory.
The fire-place in the kitchen was raised on a platform of bricks, and
the white curling vapour which issued therefrom was suffered to roam
about and make its exit from an aperture in the roof. The fire was made
up with the roots of old trees, covered with stable-litter ; and before
it were placed eight or ten earthen pots, containing hot water, puchero,
and other necessary articles, to regale the muleteer or other traveller.

Our hostess was particularly attentive to the puchero, a standing dish
among Spaniards ; it is composed of a piece of fat pork, part of a fowl,
a bit of beef or mutton, Estremadura sausages, and a peculiar kind of
cabbage and garbauzos, or Spanish pea ; the whole mixed together with
oil, and seasoned with salt, red pepper, and garlic. Three fowls were
then put down to roast ; others were cut into small pieces, mixed in
a deep frying-pan, with oil, lard, salt, and red pepper, together with
some cloves of garlic pounded in a mortar. When this mixture had sim-
mered some time, a quantity of rice was added, and it remained on the
fire till the whole was of a fine brown colour. The cook then broke half
a dozen eggs into the pan, gave it another turn, and dished it up. By
this time the fowls were done, and we were summoned to supper. The
cloth was laid in our bed-room, where the different dishes were served ;
and if one may judge of their excellence by the degree of respect by
which they were regarded by my fellow-travellers, the most confirmed
gourmand might not have desired a better sample of cookery. As I was
but a young Spanish traveller, my stomach was not proof against the
abundance of oil and garlic. I, therefore, contented myself with some
of the roast fowl, which did not require either a knife or fork to separate ;
and the desert which followed our repast, consisting of grapes, figs,
almonds, raisins, and biscuits, and afterwards a cigar.

We were aroused by the mayoral at an early hour, and, before pro-
ceeding on our journey, were served with a cup of chocolate, a thin
slice of bread, and a piece of frosted sugar. The bill was moderate ;
but I found there was another and much better posada in the town,
though we were brought to the Cross of Malta, in consequence of an
engagement of the mayoral to provide some of the passengers with
entertainment on the road, which of course he effected with as little cost
as possible. I have been thus circumstantial in describing the comforts
of inferior Spanish posadas, as it may be considered a fair sample of simi-
lar establishments throughout Spain.

The country through which we travelled was much of the same
description as that we had passed the day preceding ; the mountains,

2J2 Spanish Highways and Byways. QMARCH,

however, assuming a bolder character, and the river continuing its
course along the valley to Villa Franca. Our road now took its direc-
tion across a steep mountain, at the foot of which we alighted, with the
intention of walking to the top. Our movements, though not particu-
larly rapid, had greatly the advantage of the unwieldy machine we had
left ; and having arrived nearly at the summit of the hill, the winding
of the road completely concealed it from our sight. We beguiled our
way by merry sallies at the expense of our conveyancer, and compli-
mented ourselves on our own nimble heels, little thinking there might
be greater occasion for them than we had at first contemplated, when
suddenly we were surrounded by armed men. Immediately all the
horrors of banditti became apparent; our numbers were too few to
think of successful resistance, and escape was impracticable. Before
our fears, however, had time sufficiently to magnify our peril, a person
from our group of captors advanced, and demanded our passports.
Knowing that robbers have but little respect for such documents, I was
convinced our alarm was groundless; and we soon found that these persons
were placed there by the local authorities for the protection of travel-
lers, as the roads were considered in a very dangerous state from the fre-
quent attack of robbers. The guard had constructed a hut of turf and
the branches of trees to protect themselves in their bivouac, and seemed
to have made themselves as comfortable as the situation would admit.
We were guarded by a party of them to the foot of the hill, as that was
considered the most dangerous part of the road. On our arrival at
Answuella, a small village, but with good accommodation, we met a
man carrying an immense wolf, slung on his back, which he had just
shot in the mountain ; I offered him a peseta for his brush, which he
declined, as he was about to take it to the Alcalde, to claim the reward
of eight pesetas, which the Spanish government has very wisely ordered
to be paid to any person who shoots one of these destructive animals.

We shortly afterwards entered the Province of Alava, and passed
through a well cultivated country to the town of Vittoria, the capital of
the province. At the posada, to which our mayoral conducted us, we
met a coach on its way from Madrid to France. Among the passengers was
Mr. Hall, brother of Captain Basil Hall ; they were\ll in a most unfor-
tunate predicament, for Mr. Hall informed me, that at no great distance
from Madrid they had been intercepted by a party of banditti, who had
stripped them of nearly all they possessed. Twelve men, well armed,
had attacked their coach, and, having drawn it off the road, dragged
the passengers out. They next tied some of them together, and with
very little ceremony laid them down with their faces to the ground,
with the comfortable assurance, that on the least outcry or noise irom
any one, a knife would be drawn across the throats of the whole party ;
then in the most deliberate manner they ransacked the coach, examining
every thing it contained, and packing up for their own use all that was
valuable or of utility. This done, they regaled themselves with some
•wine belonging to one of the passengers, and then liberating them, they
disappeared with their booty. Mr. Hall was deprived of his gold watch
and seals, which I afterwards found had been beaten up and sold in
Madrid. I paid my respects to General Alava, to whom I had a letter
of introduction, and he advised me, in pursuance of the object for
which I entered Spain, to leave the coach at Miranda, and visit the
town of Escaray, in the Rioxa, before proceeding to Madrid.

On quitting the town of Vittoria we entered the plains, which are

1831.] Spanish Highways and Byways. 273

upwards of three leagues in extent, celebrated for the discomfiture of
the Cantabrians by the Romans, under Augustus,, and in our times, for
the total defeat of Joseph Buonaparte by the British force commanded
by the Duke of Wellington. This discomfiture was the death-blow to
the French ascendancy in Spain. At the posada, in Vittoria, we were
shewn the travelling carriage of Joseph Buonaparte, which he was
obliged to quit for a swifter conveyance, in consequence of the rapid
pursuit of our advanced troops : it is a plain chocolate- coloured chariot,
and of a very unpretending appearance. The host of the posada
informed me it was the property of the Duke of Wellington, though I
question whether his grace is at all aware of the value of his possession
in Spain.

I left the coach at Miranda, which divides the Province of Alava
from Old Castille, and engaged mules to carry us and our baggage to
Escaray, which lies about forty miles from the direct road to Madrid.
We crossed the Ebro, and winding round a sterile mountain, descended
into a fruitful plain, abounding in corn and vines, along which our
route lay, until we halted at the small town of San Domingo de Cal-
zada. While the mules were feeding, I sauntered towards the cathe-
dral, the antique appearance of which attracted my attention. It is an
edifice, built in a very remote age, in the simplest style of Gothic archi-
tecture. A pious father of the church, taking compassion on me in my
forlorn character of stranger, undertook to explain to me the mysteries
of the interior. Upon entering the church, that which more particu-
larly raised my curiosity, amongst the numerous objects which set forth
their claims to the reverence of the faithful, was a large cage containing
a white cock and hen. On approaching these, I doubted not, sacred
birds, the father made a low genuflexion, and crossing himself, looked at
me as though he expected I should follow his example. The cock
thrust forth his beak and clapped his wings, intimating, according to
my heretical notions, a desire for something more substantial than devo-
tion. My companion, however, corrected my error, by informing me it
was merely a way the cock had of expressing his satisfaction at the
homage of a believer. Notwithstanding this assurance, I was about to
tender my homage to the birds, in the shape of a piece of biscuit, which
was however speedily abstracted from my hand by the agitated padre,
who declared he would not answer for the consequences, if the birds
were scandalized with an offering from the hands of a heretic. He
further informed me, in the impressive under-tone of one who commu-
nicates a fearful mystery, that they were miraculous poultry, and,
according to the records of the cathedral, could be proved to have
existed in that church upwards of 400 years ! " How much longer," con-
tinued my guide, " I will not take upon myself to say." — " There is some
doubt then beyond the time you mention ?" I observed. — " Yes,"
returned the unsuspecting padre, " seeing that there is a flaw in our
records about that time j but there is every reason to believe they have
lived here a thousand years !" I expressed a wish to learn the history
of poultry thus marked by the especial care of Providence ; in reply to
which my guide informed me, " that in the dark ages of the pagan Goth,
before the light of Christianity had illumined the heathen, the spot on
which the town of San Domingo now stood, was the site of a palace, which
in former ages belonged to one of the Gothic commanders. It happened
that a convert to the newly-received faith of Christianity had incurred
the resentment ' of the powerful heathen, who, without considering it

M.M. New Series— VOL. XL No. 63. 2 N

274 Spanish Highways and Byways. [[MARCH,

necessary to adopt the tedious forms of law usual in our own time,
ordered the supposed culprit to be forthwith gibbeted. Great interest
was made to save him, but without success ; and the cord was actually
about his neck as he stood under the gibbet in front of the governor's
palace, when the wife of the Goth rushed into the apartment of her
husband, and on her knees begged the prisoner's life. At that moment
the Goth had seated himself snugly at dinner, and a slave had placed
before him two roasted fowls smoking in their rich gravy. Irritated at
what he conceived to be an opposition to his will, the Goth seized one of
the fowls, and, in the unceremonious manner of those days, disclaiming
the aid of knife or fork, was about to tear it asunder, but first raising
it in his hand, he said — ' When this fowl shall fly and crow, I will
believe the prisoner innocent, and he shall be liberated.' Suddenly
the bird slipped from his grasp, and recovering his plumage, to the
utter amazement of all, began to fly about the room and crow, in such
a manner as cock never crew before. Indeed he proved that his organs
of articulation had not been at all injured by the roasting he had under-
gone. At the same moment, his companion on the dish, who had like-
wise been his companion on the perch, liberated herself in the most
extraordinary manner from the thraldom of the skewer and string, dis-
charged her stuffing on the dish, and splashing the gravy in the face of
the astonished Goth, sprung round the room with a vigour and freshness
that seemed utterly at variance with the preconceived idea that she had
been at least an hour and a half under the care of the cook. The mira-
culous birds then flew out at the window, and alighted, one on each
shoulder of the culprit, just as the order was given for his execution.
This singular appeal of course stayed the proceeding, until the wonder-
ing Goth, unable to resist such testimony, liberated the prisoner. The
pagan was converted; but history does not mention," continued the
padre, " whether he most regretted his unjust condemnation of the
Christian" — " Or the irretrievable loss of his dinner," I added. The
padre, I thought, smiled in pity. — ( ' This, however, is certain, and which
even the sceptical must admit," he continued, in the most triumphant
tone, "as it is recorded, that the fowls were actually caught on the
spot, and placed in this sanctuary, so it is certain they have existed in
this very situation for a thousand years ; for are they not here before our
eyes, as vigorous as when the miracle was first wrought? What do
you say to that ?" " May they live for ever !" I exclaimed, in answer,
and with an appearance of devotion, which the padre himself might
have envied. — " Amen !" he replied ; and on his part making his usual
cross and genuflexion, we left the church.

I recommenced my journey shortly afterwards, passing over a flat
but pleasant country, and arrived in the evening at the town of Escaray.
My principal object in visiting Spain was to inspect the mode of
preparing wool for foreign markets, and to suggest some alteration in
the method of working it, and improving its condition. It was there-
fore with great pleasure I recognized an old friend in the person of
Mr. Bradley, who saved me some trouble by introducing me at once to
Sen or Don Agipito Maria Texada, who was a deputy of the Cortes,
and an eminent ganarado, or flock-holder, and director of the Royal
Cloth Establishment belonging to the Cinco Gremios in Madrid.

On the following day I was invited to inspect the manufactory, which
is of modern construction, and sufficiently large to admit of making fifty
long pieces of cloth per week; the machinery was new, and in great
perfection, as it was all made at Paris; but I observed great inexperience

1831.] Spanish Highways and Byways. 275

in the method of using it. I passed the whole day in giving the work-
men instruction in the several points wherein I discovered they were
most deficient. The next morning the principal inhabitants of the town
called on me, from whom afterwards I received many presents of game ;
and the priest sent me some potatoes, which are highly esteemed
there on account of their rarity. Having taken a lodging (for which
I paid 100 rials per week, about a pound English money, which
included my diet, wine, desert, a dining-room and bed-chamber, and
also a stable for my horses and dogs), I made the acquaintance of several
ganaraflos, and commenced treating with them for their piles of wool,
intending to prepare it for the French or English market. I employed
upwards of forty workmen in this operation, and having sorted about
fifty bags, I determined to give a public exhibition of my superior
method of sorting and washing. I had taken a complete washing esta-
blishment of Seuor Don Barnachea, and a day was appointed. Great
was the curiosity manifested by all classes, as the day arrived, to witness
an attempt at what they had been, by their own account, a thousand
years endeavouring to accomplish. A large concourse of ganarados,
merchants, and shepherds, were present ; and the wool, which had been
previously sorted, was shewn them, and elicited universal approbation.
I then took a few gallons of my prepared liquor, on the efficacy of which
I had staked my reputation, and mixing it with the hot water in one of
the vats, I selected two bags of the first quality, on which I intended
to try my experiment. This sample I submitted to the tests, stirring
it gently about with a stick, and when I judged the grease was beginning
to separate, I threw it into the basket, through which ran a stream of
water. My servant stood with a stick similar to my own, who turned
it over in the cold water for a time sufficient to cleanse it, and then
landing it, I presented it to the company, as white as snow. My expe-
riment was completely successful ; and the wool thus prepared brought
from Is. 6d. to 2s. per pound more in the market than wool of a similar
quality washed and sorted after the old method. Don Pablo, from
whose father I had bought a considerable quantity, rather envying
me the gain likely to accrue, paid some attention to the process, and
thought he had discovered the secret.. He accordingly bought up
several piles, for which I was already in treaty, by out-bidding me,
and succeeded, by the excellence of his discovery^, in fixing the grease
so completely in the wool, and turning it so many colours, that he was
at last obliged to resort to his old system, with a heavy stock and a
falling market.

The Spanish sheep are of two distinct classes — one they call Carneros,
and is exclusively kept for milking and the butcher. The wool of this
class is spun at home, and manufactured into coarse cloth and serge, for
the use of the friars and peasantry. The other class is called Merinos,
and is kept for the wool alone. It is supposed there are four millions
of the latter class in Spain. At the approach of winter they are driven
from the mountains in the north, to pasture in the milder climate of
Estremadura and the borders of Andalusia, whence they return in the
spring to be shorn, and to enjoy the mountain pasturage. I have heard
the shepherds say, the Merinos know the time of their departure from
the north instinctively, and that they would travel into Estremadura
without a conductor. By the regulation of the mesta, there are lands
appropriated for the rest and pasture of the flocks during their annual
emigration, which in some instances exceeds the distance of four hundred
miles. 2 N 2

276 Spanish Highways and Byways. [MARCH.,

A cavana, or flock of Merinos, on route, has a singular appearance to
a stranger. The last I saw was in May, 182(j, as I was returning to
England, when I overtook several large flocks near Siguenza, return-
ing from their winter quarters near Cordova, to be shorn in Soria.
They generally travel four leagues, or sixteen miles a day. It is curious
to see the admirable regularity which is preserved amongst these
immense flocks during their peregrination, and the attention they pay
to the call of the shepherds and their dogs. I questioned one of the
shepherds respecting his flock, and expressed a wish to examine their
wool. He blew a shrill peal from a whistle, which he carried for the
purpose, when instantly, as with one consent, the cavana halted. Eight
or ten of the rams then scampered from the head of the flock, and run-
ning to the shepherd, raised up themselves against him, and placing
their fore feet on his breast, seemed ready to devour him. He gave to
each a small piece of salt, with which they seemed highly gratified ; and
they suffered me to pluck some of their wool, which was of a superior
quality. The shepherds being constantly exposed to the sun and air, ne-
cessarily become swarthy, and their limited use of a razor, added to their
uncommon attire, give them a singularly strange and wild appearance.
Their garments are made of the skins of black sheep ; the wool is left
about half an inch long, and form a costume more comfortable than
seemly. They wear afacha or sash tied round the waist, and in the
folds is seen a knife, the use of which, is pretty generally understood
by the lower order of Spaniards. The legs and feet of these men are
encased in dried sheep-skins, laced with a thong, and a huge sombrero,
'or slouched hat, as a covering to the head, completes their costume.
They lodge at night under a rude sort of tent, covered with turf and
skins, round which the flock is gathered, the clogs forming an out-post
to protect them from the wolves. I inquired of the mayoral whether
he had lost many of his flock by the wolves ; he told me they had suf-
fered considerably among the mountains of Guadalaxara, the wolves
being much more ferocious than those in Estremadura ; and my ser-
vant, who had been a soldier, said he saw three prowling about not a
month since when he was on guard amongst those very mountains.

The dogs which attend these flocks are of a large size, not unlike the
Newfoundland dog, though standing higher on their legs. They are
branded in the face with a particular mark, and are protected in their
frequent desperate encounters with the wolves by thick leathern col-
lars, covered with sharp iron spikes, which presents a formidable bar-
rier to their ferocious assailants; it is not always, however, that these
faithful and courageous animals are a sufficient protection to the flock
from the hordes of these ravenous animals which always hang on their
track. The dogs have a daily allowance of bread, and that, with the
flesh of the dead sheep and goats, keeps them always in good condi-
tion. The shepherd told me, that one night, a wolf had eluded the
vigilance of the guardians, and succeeded in capturing a lamb ; the
theft, however, was immediately discovered, and the offender was pur-
sued arid overtaken by a single dog. The first intimation the shepherd
had of the transaction was by the faithful animal returning to his tent
with the lamb in his mouth ; the blood on the dog shewed he had not
recovered his loss without a severe conflict, which was confirmed the
next morning, by finding the wolf mangled and dead near the spot. I
was so much pleased with this anecdote of the dog, which was pointed
out to me, that I offered the shepherd a considerable sum for him ; the

1831.] Spanish Highways and Byways.. 277

man however honestly told me, that even if he were tempted to take
the money, the dog would never acknowledge me for a master, but
would seek the first opportunity of returning to his companions of the
fold. The camp equipage of the wandering shepherds is carried by asses,
and mules, and moves in the rear of the line of march. It consists of
guns, pots, gridirons, the skins of deer and sheep, stags horns, (for they
have frequent opportunities of regaling themselves with venison and
game,) and poles for the erection of their tents, or huts. A number of
goats generally accompany a cavana, which are the property of the shep-
herds, and with the milk, and kids, the men live pretty well. I should
not think mutton was scarce with them, for as. no one can tell the num-
ber of sheep in a flock, but the shepherds themselves, they are in no
danger of detection, should they occasionally wish to vary their repast.
There are flocks belonging to the Duke of Infantado, and other noble-
men, amounting to thirty or forty thousand sheep.

Soon after my arrival at Escaray, a party was formed to visit the cele-
brated convent of St. Milan. It is situated about twelve miles from
Escaray, the road, all the way, presenting a picturesque and beautiful
appearance. The monastery, the object of our visit, formerly belonged
to a fraternity of Benedictine monks, which was suppressed by a decree
of the Cortes, and was now offered for sale on very advantageous terms
to the purchaser. This splendid residence was untenanted; the in-
mates had been compelled to relinquish a life of luxury and ease, and
seek their support in a more meritorious manner, than by taxing the
industry of their fellow creatures. We met with a priest who still offici-
ated in the church attached to the monastery, who conducted us through
the various apartments. They are approached by a noble staircase,
twenty feet wide, of grey marble, and are of the most spacious and mag-
nificent description. There are three hundred separate cells for the use
of the monks, and on measuring one of the corridors I found it to be
four hundred and twenty feet in length. The library and chapel have
not suffered, but the hall of the Inquisition has been stripped of its books
and furniture. The monastery stands in the centre of a park, enclosed
by a high wall, and a fine stream of water runs through the whole
domain. The situation is enchanting, mountains rise above each other,
on every side, in the most beautiful variety ; the river is seen winding
through a luxuriant plain, teeming with the richest of Nature's gifts, till
it is lost amongst the mountains of Navarre, which are seen dimly in the
distance. In fact, I have always observed, that the pious fathers of the
church, have invariably fixed their lot in the most pleasant places, and
have found it a matter of both conscience and duty, to appropriate to
themselves the most goodly heritage. This magnificent territory of
S'2.,000 acres, might have been purchased for £12,000, by paying for
it in valeas dales. The peasantry seemed humble and poor, but con-
tented and happy ; all they appeared to regret in the suppression of the
monastery, was the loss of the soup which they had been in the habit of
receiving from the Benedictines. At Escaray, I found a letter from Mr.
Thomas, of Azuagua, in Estremadura, whom I had heretofore been in cor-
respondence with, requesting me to meet him in Madrid, as speedily as
possible. He informed me, the merchants in the south of Spain had heard
of the success of my experiment with wool, and had determined to sub-
mit an advantageous offer to my consideration. I therefore resolved to
meet that gentleman in Madrid, according to his appointment, and in a
few days set out for Burgos, on my way to the capital.

278 Spanish Highways and Byways. [MARCH,

The month of October was not far advanced, yet the mountains which
surround Escaray were tipped with snow, but the valleys were still ver-
dant and fruitful. Fine streams of water intersected the country through
which we passed, winding occasionally through huge forests of beech,
many noble trees of which I saw lying on the ground in a state of decay.
We travelled for miles by a horse-track, over, almost, inaccessible moun-
tains, without encountering a living thing excepting eagles and vultures,
on their way to regale themselves on the carcase of a dead mule. After
travelling sixty miles we arrived late in the evening at the ancient city
of Burgos, and put up at the house to which we were recommended,
called Las Palomas, immediately opposite the cathedral. This city is
the capital of Old Castile, and was in former times a place of great im-
portance. The cathedral is a beautiful specimen of Gothic architecture,
enriched with pinnacles and elaborate carvings in stone. The twelve
apostles are placed in niches over the eastern front, and form a promi-
nent feature before entering the church. The interior is crowded with
paintings, statuary, and bas-reliefs. In the convent of St. Augustine,
they shew a crucifix incontestably proved to be the genuine fabrication of
Nicodemus. If we may judge from such a specimen, Nicodemus must
undoubtedly have been an amateur workman of considerable merit.
The citadel which once stood near the city is now demolished, and the
ditches are filled up. It was there that the British troops were repulsed,
in their assault, with great slaughter. Amongst the ruins of the citadel,
I picked up many musket balls, and pieces of shells, and I thought of
the soldier's adage, that " every bullet had its billet."

Our route now laid through a sandy and sterile country, producing
little beside the fir tree, lignum vitas, and the gum schistus, the latter
however, perfuming the air with a most delicious fragrance. The defi-
ciency of amusement on the road, was by no means compensated by the
comfort of the posadas, which were generally of the most wretched des-
cription. Little could we procure by way of solace to our appetite,
besides those highly seasoned Spanish dishes, so repugnant to the un-
initiated English stomach, until we arrived at Buitrago. The moulder-
ing walls and towers of this ancient Moorish town, were distinguished
in the distance, as we wound round the side of a mountain, and we
entered it by the very picturesque approach, of an ancient bridge, and
a steep paved causeway. The Duke of Infantado has a large property
here : he has a flock of 40,000 sheep, and a lavadero in the neighbour-
hood, which I visited. The pile is designated the Infantado, and is
marked within an escutcheon. On leaving Buitrago the road traverses a
wild open country, and possesses a singular natural phenomenon. Before
we approached the small town of Lozayuela, we observed a large tract of
ground covered with stones of most extraordinary dimensions ; they are
strangely dispersed, and bear the appearance of having been tossed about
by one of those great convulsions of nature in a distant age, the traces of
which alone remain to excite our admiration and wonder. Many are
seen lying in huge disorderly masses, while others bear a more regular
appearance, like the Stonehenge in Wiltshire, but of so gigantic a
character as to ridicule the pigmy efforts of human ingenuity. They are
of grey granite, quite smooth, and are not discoloured with moss, or
lichens. But little pasturage is afforded in this singular place for cows
and sheep, the stones are spread so thickly as almost entirely to prevent
the growth of herbage, and occupy an extent of several mile's. The
road afterwards becomes interesting from its rural scenery. The ground

1831.] Spanish Highways and Byways. 279

rises on the right, and is covered with pretty villages, here and there
interspersed with convents and churches ; on the left is seen a boundless
plain, which is lost in the horizon, and a huge pyramidical stone, appar-
ently detached by some charm, from the group before mentioned, raises
its giant head, and forms a conspicuous object for a considerable
distance.

We arrived at Madrid by the gate of Burgos, and1 having submitted to
the usual examination of passport and baggage, we were graciously per-
mitted to proceed to our quarters, in the street of Alcala, to the dwelling
of a certain Italian, who e e ps the Posada San Fernando. Here I enter-
ed into the necessary agreement with my host for the usual accommoda-
tions, after which, I met Mr. Thomas, by whose representation I visited
Madrid. Mr. Thomas informed me that the government and the inha-
bitants of Azuagua, intended to offer me an estate in Estremadura, on
condition that I should reside there, and endeavour to improve the method
of sorting and washing the wools of that province, which are well known
to be of a more dingy appearance than those of any other part of Spain.
I had a long conversation with Mr. Thomas on the subject, whom I
found to be an intelligent and enterprising gentleman ,• he was moreover
a great favorite with his Catholic Majesty, to whom he had free access.
He related me the following anecdote of an interview with the King of
Spain. When he presented the memorial for the grant of an estate in Estre-
madura, to Ferdinand, the king placed it, with a number of other docu-
ments in his right-hand pocket. Mr. Thomas having been previously in-
formed that the memory of his majesty was exceedingly treacherous, with
respect to all documents that found their way into that particular recep-
tacle, after a little conversation ventured to address him on the subject.
ff Pray may I take the liberty of inquiring, into which pocket has your
Majesty placed my memorial ?" — " Why, Thomas," replied the king, ' l does
that make any difference ?" — " Every thing to me, please your Majesty/'
returned the merchant, *f for if you would favour me by transferring it
to the left-hand pocket, which I observe is empty, it would have a better
chance of attracting your majesty's notice/' The king laughed. "-Well,,
then, Thomas, I believe I must send you away in a good temper," and
he transferred the memorial to the favoured side. Mr. Thomas found
shortly afterwards the estate was conveyed to him, which his son now
possesses.

From the representation made to me by Mr. Thomas, I was induced
to believe that in Estremadura the golden fleece was to be obtained ; I
therefore determined to visit the province and judge for myself. I pur-
chased a handsome Andalusian horse of one the king's equerries, for
forty-five dollars, and equipped him for the journey with a singular kind
of long saddle or pad, made for the convenience of carrying and strap-
ping on all my camp equipage, and necessary cooking utensils ; a bridle
manta, and a pair of alforja, or large pockets, (which are curiously
manufactured of wool, wrought in many colours, and serve to carry
provisions), a pair of holster pipes, and the whole surmounted by a
black sheep's skin, for a covering to my saddle and baggage. When
every thing was ready for my departure, intelligence arrived that the
yellow fever had broken out, and was making such ravages in Cadiz
and Seville, that a cordon of troops was placed for security as far as
Azuagua: I therefore deferred my expedition till the spring.

[ 280 ] [MARCH,

THE LETTER-BELL, BY THE LATE WILLIAM HAZLITT.

COMPLAINTS are frequently made of the vanity and shortness of human
life, when, if we examine its smallest details, they present a world by
themselves. The most trifling objects, retraced with the eye of memory,
assume the vividness, the delicacy, and importance of insects seen
through a magnifying glass. There is no end of the brilliancy or the
variety. The habitual feeling of the love of life may be compared to
" one entire and perfect chrysolite," which, if analyzed, breaks into a
thousand shining fragments. Ask the sum-total of the value of human
life, and we are puzzled with the length of the account, and the multi-
plicity of items in it : take any one of them apart, and it is wonderful
what matter for reflection will be found in it ! As I write this, the
latter-Bell passes : it has a lively, pleasant sound with it, and not only
fills the street with its importunate clamour, but rings clear through the
length of many half-forgotten years. It strikes upon the ear, it vibrates
to the brain, it wakes me from the dream of time, it flings me back upon
my first entrance into life, the period of my first coming up to town,
when all around was strange, uncertain, adverse — a hubbub of confused
noises, a chaos of shifting objects — and when this sound alone, startling
me with the recollection of a letter I had to send to the friends I had
lately left, brought me as it were to myself, made me feel that I had
links still connecting me with the universe, and gave me hope and
patience to persevere. At that loud-tinkling, interrupted sound (now
and then), the long line of blue hills near the place where I was brought
up waves in the horizon, a golden sunset hovers over them, the dwarf-
oaks rustle their red leaves in the evening-breeze, and the road from

, to , by which I first set out on my journey through life, stares

me in the face as plain, but from time and change not less visionary and
mysterious, than the pictures in the Pilgrim's Progress. I should notice,
that at this time the light of the French Revolution circled my head
like a glory, though dabbled with drops of crimson gore : I walked con-
fident and cheerful by its side —

" And by the vision splendid
Was on my way attended."

It rose then in the east : it has again risen in the west. Two suns in one
day, two triumphs of liberty in one age, is a miracle which I hope the
Laureate will hail in appropriate verse. Or may not Mr. Wordsworth
give a different turn to the fine passage, beginning —

" What, though the radiance which was once so bright,
Be now for ever vanished from my sight ;
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of glory in the grass, of splendour in the flower ?"

For is it not brought back, " like morn risen on mid-night ;" and may
he not yet greet the yellow light shining on the evening bank with eyes
of youth, of genius, and freedom, as of yore ? No, never ! But what
would not these persons give for the unbroken integrity of their early
opinions — for one unshackled, uncontaminated strain — one lo pa?an to
Liberty — one burst of indignation against tyrants and sycophants, who
subject other countries to slavery by force, and prepare their own for it
by servile sophistry, as we see the huge serpent lick over its trembling,
helpless victim with its slime and poison, before it devours it ! On every
stanza so penned would be written the word RECREANT ! Every taunt,
every reproach, every note of exultation at restored light and freedom,
would recal to them how their hearts failed them in the Valley of the

1831.] The Letter-Bell. 281

Shadow of Death. And what shall we Bay to Azw— the sleep-walker,
the dreamer, the sophist, the word-hunter, the craver after sympathy,
but still vulnerable to truth, accessible to opinion, because not sordid or
mechanical ? The Bourbons being no longer tied about his neck, he
may perhaps recover his original liberty of speculating ; so that we may
apply to him the lines about his own Ancient Mariner —

" And from his neck so free

The Albatross fell off, and sank

Like lead into the sea."

This is the reason I can write an article on the Letter-Bell, and other such
subjects ; I have never given the lie to my own soul. If I have felt any
impression once, I feel it more strongly a second time ; and I have no
wish to revile and discard my best thoughts. There is at least a thorough
keeping in what I write — not a line that betrays a principle or disguises a
feeling. If my wealth is small, it all goes to enrich the same heap ; and
trifles in this way accumulate to a tolerable sum. — Or if the Letter-Bell
does not lead me a dance into the country, it fixes me in the thick of my
town recollections, I know not how long ago. It was a kind of alarm to
break off from my work when there happened to be company to dinner or
when I was going to the play. That was going to the play, indeed, when
I went twice a year, and had not been more than half a dozen times in
my life. Even the idea that any one else in the house was going, was a
sort of reflected enjoyment, and conjured up a lively anticipation of the

scene. I remember a Miss D , a maiden lady from Wales (who in

her youth was to have been married to an earl), tantalized me greatly in
this way, by talking all day of going to see Mrs. Siddons' " airs and
graces" at night in some favourite part ; and when the Letter-Bell
announced that the time was approaching, and its last receding sound
lingered on the ear, or was lost in silence, how anxious and uneasy I
became, lest she and her companion should not be in time to get good
places — lest the curtain should draw up before they arrived — and lest I
should lose one line or look in the intelligent report which I should hear
the next morning ! The punctuating of time at that early period — every
thing that gives it an articulate voice — seems of the utmost consequence;
for we do not know what scenes in the ideal world may run out of them :
a world of interest may hang upon every instant, and we cau hardly sus-
tain the weight of future years which are contained in embryo in the
most minute and inconsiderable passing events. How often have I put
off writing a letter till it was too late ! How often had to run after the
postman with it — now missing, now recovering, the sound of his bell-
breathless, angry with myself — then hearing the welcome sound come
full round a corner — and seeing the scarlet costume which set all my
fears and self-reproaches at rest ! I do not recollect having ever repented
giving a letter to the postman, or wishing to retrieve it after he had
once deposited it in his bag. What I have once set my hand to, I take
the consequences of, and have been always pretty much of the same
hnmour in this respect. I am not like the person who, having sent off
a letter to his mistress, who resided a hundred and twenty miles in the
country, and disapproving, on second thoughts, of some expressions con-
tained in it, took a post-chaise and four to follow and intercept it the next
morning. At other times, I have sat and watched the decaying embers
in a little back painting-room (just as the wintry day declined), and
brooded over the half-finished copy of a Rembrandt, or a landscape by
Vangoyen, placing it where it might catch a dim gleam of light from the
fire ; while the Letter-Bell was the only sound that drew my thoughts
M.M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. 63. 2 O

282 The Letter-Bell. [MARCH,

to the world without, and reminded me that I had a task to perform in it.
As to that landscape, methinks I see it now —

" The slow canal, the yellow-blossomed vale,

The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail."

There was a windmill, too, with a poor low clay -built cottage beside it :
— how delighted I was when I had made the tremulous, undulating
reflection in the water, and saw the dull canvas become a lucid mirror of
the commonest features of nature ! Certainly, painting gives one a strong
interest in nature and humanity (it is not the dandy-school of morals or
sentiment) —

" While with an eye made quiet by the power

Of harmony and the deep power of joy,

We see into the life of things."

Perhaps there is no part of a painter's life (if we must tell ce the secrets
of the prison-house") in which he has more enjoyment of himself and his
art, than that in which after his work is over^ and with furtive sidelong
glances at what he has done, he is employed in washing his brushes
and cleaning his pallet for the day. Afterwards, when he gets a servant
in livery to do this for him, he may have other and more ostensible
sources of satisfaction — greater splendour, wealth, or fame ; but he will
not be so wholly in his art, nor will his art have such a hold on him as
when he was too poor to transfer its meanest drudgery to others — too
humble to despise aught that had to do. with the object of his glory and
his pride, with that on which all his projects of ambition or pleasure
were founded. " Entire affection scorneth nicer hands/' When the
professor is above this mechanical part of his business, it may have
become a stalking-horse to other worldly schemes, but is no longer his
hobby-horse and the delight of his inmost thoughts—

<f His shame in crowds, his solitary pride !"

I used sometimes to hurry through this part of my occupation, while the
Letter-Bell (which was my dinner-bell) summoned me to the fraternal
board, where youth and hope

" Made good digestion wait on appetite
And health on both" — •

or oftener I. put it off till after dinner, that I might loiter longer and
with more luxurious indolence over it, and connect it with the thoughts
of my next day's labours.

The clustman's-bell, with its heavy, monotonous noise, and the brisk,
lively tinkle of the muffin-bell, have something in them, but not much.
They will bear dilating upon with the utmost license of inventive prose.
All things are not alike conductors to the imagination. A learned Scotch
professor found fault with an ingenious friend and arch-critic for culti-
vating a rookery on his grounds : the professor declared " he would as
soon think of encouraging a froggery." This was barbarous as it was
senseless. Strange, that a country that has produced the Scotch Novels
and Gertrude of Wyoming should want sentiment !

The postman's double-knock at the door the next morning is " more
germain to the matter." How that knock often goes to the heart ! We
distinguish to a nicety the arrival of the Two-penny or the General Post.
The summons of the latter is louder and heavier, as bringing news from
a greater distance, and as, the longer it has been delayed, fraught with a
deeper interest. We catch the sound of what is to be paid — eight-pence,
nine-pence, a shilling — and our hopes generally rise with the postage.
How we are provoked at the delay in getting change — at the servant
who does not hear the door ! Then if the postman passes, and we do

1831.] The LtUcr-BelL 283

not hear the expected knock, what a pang is there! It Is like ^ the
silence of death — of hope! We think he does it on purpose, and enjoys
all the misery of our suspense. I have sometimes walked out to see the
Mail-Coach pass, by which I had sent a letter, or to meet it when I
expected one. I never see a Mail-Coach, for this reason, but I look at
it as the bearer of glad tidings — the messenger of fate. I have reason to
say so. — The finest sight in the metropolis is that of the Mail-Coaches
setting off from Piccadilly. The horses paw the ground, and are impa-
tient to be gone, as if conscious of the precious burden they convey.
There is a peculiar secresy and despatch, significant and full of meaning,
in all the proceedings concerning them. Even the outside passengers
have an erect and supercilious air, as if proof against the accidents of the
journey. In fact, it seems indifferent whether they are to encounter the
summer's heat or winter's cold, since they are borne through the air in a
winged chariot. The Mail-Carts drive up ; the transfer of packages is
made; and, at a signal given, they start off, bearing the irrevocable
scrolls that give wings to thought, and that bind or sever hearts for ever.
How we hate the Putney and Brentford stages that draw up in a line
after they are gone ! Some persons think the sublimest object in nature
is a ship launched on the bosom of the ocean : but give me, for my
private satisfaction, the Mail-Coaches that pour down Piccadilly of an
evening, tear up the pavement, and devour the way before them to the
Land's-End !

In Cowper's time, Mail-Coaches were hardly set up ; but he has
beautifully described the coming in of the Post-Boy : —

f( Hark! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge,

That with its wearisome but needful length

Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon

Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright : —

He comes, the herald of a noisy world,

With spattered boots, strapped waist, and frozen locks ^

News from all nations lumbering at his back.

True to his charge, the close-packed load behind,

Yet careless what he brings, his one concern

Is to conduct it to the destined inn ;

And having dropped the expected bag, pass on-

He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch !

Cold and yet cheerful ; messenger of grief

Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some ;,

To him indifferent whether grief or joy.

Houses in ashes and the fall of stocks,

Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet

With tears that trickled down the writer's cheeks

Fast as the periods from his fluent quill,

Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains

Or nymphs responsive, equally affect

His horse and him, unconscious of them all."

And yet, notwithstanding this, and so many other passages that seem like
the very marrow of our being, Lord Byron denies that Cowper was a
poet ! — The Mail-Coach is an improvement on the Post-Boy ; but I fear
it will hardly bear so poetical a description. The picturesque and dra-
matic do not keep pace with the useful and mechanical. The telegraphs
that lately communicated the intelligence of the new revolution to all
France within a few hours, are a wonderful contrivance ; but they are
less striking and appalling than the beacon-fires (mentioned by JEschy-
lus), which, lighted from hill-top to hill-top, announced the taking of
Troy and the return of Agamemnon.

2 O 2

[ 284

THE MERCHANT^ CLERK; A LEGEND OF THE OLD TIME IN

LONDON.

DINING some time back with a friend, whose house is situated in
one of those out-of-the-way courts in the City, where one would hardly
think of searching for anything picturesque or beautiful, but which,
nevertheless, abound with various rich memorials of the past ; while
seated with him at his window, overlooking a small yard containing two
mulberry-trees at least a century old, I observed, with no small sorrow,
that an old stone wall, the rounded gable of which was pregnant with
recollections of the reigns of Elizabeth and the first James, was being
removed, in all probability to be succeeded by a piece of modern, unin-
teresting brick-work. By this removal, however, another morsel of
antiquity, which had previously been concealed, was now exposed to
view : this consisted of a hovel or shed, built against one of the interior
sides of this stone wall, and apparently the remains of some more exten-
sive and important building ; for though, in many places, the large,
irregularly-shaped slates had been displaced, or perhaps had fallen
away, and been re-placed by modern tiling, still several of the massy
stone pillars, supporting strong oaken arches, were remaining, and
appeared as though they were the vestiges of a colonnade or cloister,
which at some former period had run round the whole interior of the
wall. I mentioned this idea to my friend, who concurred with me that
it was probably correct.

" By the way," observed he, " the spot which has attracted your obser-
vation, I believe even that very shed, was once the scene of a murder,
the perpetration and discovery of which were attended by some very
singular circumstances."

This information, of course, led to an inquiry on my part; and that,
in its turn, elicited the following Legend of London : —

Towards the middle of the second half of the seventeenth century,
or, in plainer English, about the year of grace, 1672, there lived in
London a very rich, and therefore very respectable merchant, who, hav-
ing come to the rare resolution that he had made money enough, and
having, as he said, no kith or kin, tacked to this said resolution one of
more frequent occurrence, namely, that he would take a wife, to be the
superintendant of his household affairs, the sharer of his fortune, the
soother of his sorrows, if ever he should have any, and so forth. And
to a man of so much importance as was Master Edward Edwards,
there were very few obstacles in the way of his accomplishing such a
purpose, as he might easily pick and choose among jthe maidens or
widows of his ward, who would all be but too proud of an alliance with
so honourable and substantial a citizen. He did not, however, delibe-
rate so long on the matter as might perhaps have been expected, seeing
how wide a field he had wherein to exercise his speculations ; for at the
same time that he informed those friends, whom he chose to consult on
the occasion, of his before-named intention, he gave them to understand
that his choice had already fallen on Dorothy Langton, the daugh-
ter of a poor Goldsmith, and reputed papist, but, nevertheless, a maiden
of good fame, seemly bearing, and twenty-six years of age. She was
tall, fair, and well made, but with nothing striking about her face that
would call for particular description, unless one may advert to— what
indeed was no part of her face — an unusual breadth at the back part of her

1831.] The Merchant's Clerk; a 'Legend of the Old Time in London. 285

head, behind her ears, which seemed to give her features an appearance
of being too small. The lady was, truth to confess, not very much
admired in the neighbourhood ; and, to continue the confession, she was
as little liked. She was said by those who knew her best, or rather as it
might seem worst, to be of a sullen temper, and yet, withal, violent ;
and the death of one young man was laid at her door, all the way from
the East Indies, whither he had gone in despair, after having been for
eleven months her accepted suitor, and then discharged in a fit of
peevishness. How far this incident, which happened before she was
twenty, might have formed her after character ; or how far even her
earlier character might have been moulded from the fact of her having
been left motherless while yet an infant, and bred up afterwards under
the sole care of her father, a harsh and severe man, it is not for me to
determine ; and much less so how or why Master Edward Edwards
came to fix on her as his partner. Master Edwards himself, at the time
we are speaking of, was in the very prime and vigour of life- — that is,
in his own opinion ; it may be stated, however, that he was in his
five-and-fiftieth year ; rather corpulent arid very grey : but the former
fact he asserted, and not without truth, was a proof of his stoutness :
some men, he observed, quite young men too, (that is, younger than
himself,) had contracted a bad habit of stooping, which shewed their
walk through life had not been upright ; then, as to his grey hairs, he
boasted that they were once the veriest black, but that thought and
honourable labour had blanched them ; besides, his worst foes could not
say he was bald. For the rest, Master Edwards was a man of tolerable
parts, as times went, of an easy and good temper, and one who loved
to crack his bottle and his joke as well as any man living, either now or
thert.

For some time, say thirteen months, after the marriage, they lived
together in all seeming harmony. I say seeming, of course speakingonly
of what met the eyes of others ; for far be it from me to intrude any
unnecessary inquiry into the discomforts or discrepancies (if any such
existed) of the domestic circle — a rather small one, to be sure, seeing it
consisted of only two individuals, unless, as a third segment thereof,
may be reckoned Master Edwards' clerk, a young man, an orphan, of
the name of Simon, who had lived with him from his childhood. He
was a youth of good favour, but did not seem to find it in his mistress's
eyes ; or rather, latterly, he did not : for at her first coming she had
behaved with great kindness to him, while he, on the other hand, always
treated her with that distant respect, so becoming in an inferior, but so
mortifying to a superior, who may happen, for some purpose or other,
to wish to be on more familiar terms. After a little time, Mistress
Edwards evidently took a great dislike to poor Simon, and by the
exercise of a little domestic despotism, she made his home sufficiently
uncomfortable. Master Edwards seldom interfered in the matter ; and
to do his wife justice, she concealed, the alteration she had caused in the
lad's comforts, as much as she could from his master ; and if ever he did
happen to make any reference to the subject, she was pat with a com-
plaint against Simon for being so often away from the house ; which
was no more than truth, as she frequently made it too hot to hold him ;
and also that during his absence, he was continually seen to be in very
bad company— at which his master would sigh ; and which I am sorry
to say was also no less than the truth, and probably the consequence of
her harsh treatment. Various little trinkets and other nic-nacs were

1>8(> The Merchant's Clerk ; [MARCH,

also said by Mistress Edwards to be from time to time missing — and her
lamentations and anger on such subjects were always uttered in Simon's
hearing, plentifully interlarded with expressions of wonder, " who the
thief could be," — and assertions, " that such things could not walk off
without hands :" whereat her facetious husband never failed to remark,
" Yes, deary, they might, if they had feet." And this as regularly put
her in a passion, and made her vow that, " for her part, she could not
see what use there was in keeping about the house such lazy, loitering,
good-for-nothing vagabonds,'' with various other such ungentle epithets,
all of which were quite plainly launched at the unfortunate Simon.

At the end of these thirteen months, Simon, together with several
articles of plate, was found missing in real earnest — all mere suspicion
on the subject being removed by the following note, which Master Ed-
wards found on his breakfast table : —

" Even in the very commission of a deed of wrong and villany, can I
not refrain from bidding you farewell— my kind, mine honoured, my
loved master ! — even while I am doing wrong to you. But I am driven
to it, and away from your house, by the cruel and unjust treatment of
your wife: beware of her, master of mine, for she is evil. Whither I go,
God knows — I care not— nor will He ; for I have abandoned his ways,
and broken his commands — but I am forced to it — forced to rob, that I
may not starve of hunger — to rob you, to whom I owe every thing — but
indeed, indeed, I would not so do, knew I not that what I take from
you can be little missed, and that if I spoke to you, you would not let
me quit your house : and sure I am, that if I did so without means of
living, you would sorrow that the child of your fostering — the boy of
your rearing — whom you have ever treated more as a son than a servant,
should be * * *"

The words that immediately followed were quite illegible, being so
blotted, as though the writer had written over drops of water : then
followed a short thick dash of the pen — and then in a large and hurried
hand, the following : — •

" But this is foolish — and fallacy — farewell, Sir, — *lear master, fare-
well : — forgive me — I cannot pray for you — I ask you not to pray
for me — but do, if you think it will avail me aught — if not, forget me —
and oh ! forgive me. I am going wrong — good bye."

The signature was also much blotted, but it could be traced to be,
" the thankful orphan, Simon/'

The effect produced by this event was very different, both on Mas-
ter Edwards and his wife — as well as from what might have been ex-
pected : the former, to use a homely word, took on greatly about the
matter, was evidently much hurt, became silent and abstracted, and
went so far as to shed tears ; a thing which his oldest friends — those
who had been his school-fellows — declared they had never known him
do in all his life — not even when under the infliction of Doctor Ever-
ard's cane — the right-reverend high master of Saint Paul's School, where
Master Edwards had learned Latin and peg-top. Mistress Edwards, on
the other hand, shewed a great share of rejoicing on the occasion, de-
claring she thought his room cheaply purchased at the loss of the trum-
pery he had taken with him. That same afternoon, during dinner, she
hinted that she had already a young man in her eye, as the successor of
Simon ; at which observation, her husband merely sighed, and made
no inquiries — and yet he probably had no conception whom his wife had
iu her eye, though if some of their neighbours had been present, they

1831.] a Legend of the Old Time in London. 287

might, if they had liked it, have helped him to an inuendo concerning
a handsome young man, of whom no one knew any thing, except that
he was frequently seen walking with Mistress Edwards of evenings
under the tall elms in Goodman's Fields. There were some hints of a
yet more scandalous nature — but these shall be omitted.

The stranger however came after the situation, and a handsome young
man he was — his name was Lambert Smithe — but as for his qualifications
for tlie new place, which Mistress Edwards really seemed uncommonly
anxious he should obtain, as little had best be said as may be ; and the
less need be said as Master Edwards was decidedly of opinion that he
was utterly unfitted for the office ; for the expression of which opinion
he was downright scolded by his wife, and indeed fairly warned that she
would have her own way after all.

A few nights after Simon's departure — a dark and stormy November
night it was — Mistress Edwards was seen — no matter yet by whom — to
cross the cloistered court-yard, at the back of her husband's house, bear-
ing a lanthern in her hand, which she partially covered over with the large
cloak wherein she was muffled, probably with the intention of conceal-
ing its light — perhaps only to prevent its being extinguished by the gust-
ful wind and rain. She approached a low postern-gate, which gave
into a passage leading to Cripplegate Church — she unlocked it — opened
it hesitatingly — looked out, as though for some one — came back again —
re -locked the door — placed the lantern in one of the angles of the
cloister, and began slowly pacing up and down under its shelter. In a
few moments, she stopped, and listened — her body and head slightly
bent rightward, towards the postern : a low whistle was heard without — -
she flew to the gate — opened it, and let in a man also muffled in a cloak :
she addressed him, by exclaiming, ee Late, Sir !"

The stranger began some excuse probably, but was at once stopped
by a sharp " hush !" and they conversed in whispers.

At length they shifted their position, and advanced towards the house,
Mistress Edwards having taken up her light, and leading her companion
forward writh the other hand. Of a sudden the man stopped, and she
also. He sighed, and said, though still in a whisper — " I cannot do it."

" God gi' me patience !" she cried, impatiently, and in a much louder
tone ; then in a lower, added — " Come, Lambert, dearest Lambert, take
heart."

" I cannot, indeed I cannot — any thing but that !"

" Any thing but that ! Why, what else is there to be done ? Will you
not be master of all ? — of me ? Nay, come, dear Lambert."

The man passed on. As he turned a second angle, close to the house
door, a sharp-pointed weapon was driven into his breast, by some one
standing behind one of the thick stone pillars, and with such force, that
the point pierced one of the ribs, which prevented the wound from being
mortal. The young man shrieked with agony ; and grasping towards
the spot whence the blow came, seized hold of part of the assassin's
dress, who struggled, and extricated himself from his grasp, but left
behind him part of a chain, with a watch hung to it ; at the same time
he wrenched the dagger from the lacerated bone, and, with a surer blow,
drove it into his victim's heart.

All this was the work of little more than a moment ; during which
Mistress Edwards, who at first had been struck with a stupor of surprise

288 The Merchant's Clerk; [MARCH,

and hoiror, rushed forward, screaming " Murder ! murder !" and fell,
swooning, within a few paces of the body.

When she recovered, she found several of her neighbours and of the
watch standing round, and among them her alarmed husband. She
looked round wildly for a moment, fixed her eyes on him for another,
then shrieked wildly — <( Ah ! I see — I see — him — him ! Seize him — the
murderer/' and again fell senseless.

Edwards was accordingly seized, though few could understand why
or wherefore ; but when he protested he knew nothing about the matter,
people began to think him guilty, especially as some declared the mur-
dered man was the same youth with whom his wife had been often seen
walking under the tall elms in Goodman's Fields ; and, upon her second
recovery, Mistress Edwards confirmed this declaration by clinging round
the young man's body, and calling for vengeance on the murderer of
her Love.

Edwards was carried before a justice of the peace, and after a short
examination, committed to Newgate to take his trial in the Court-house
there at the next sessions, which were to take place within a week.

The day came, and the trial commenced. At the very outset an argu-
ment arose between the counsel for the prosecution and the defence,
whether the exclamations used by the wife on the night of the murder,
accusing her husband, could be given as evidence by those who had
heard them. For the defence it was urged, that as a wife could not
appear as a witness either against or for her husband, so neither could
any expression of hers, tending to criminate him, be admissible ; on the
other hand, it was contended that as confessions were admissible in evi-
dence against a party, so a husband and wife , being as one in the eye of
the law, such expressions as these were in the nature of confessions by
the party himself, and therefore should be admitted — and so the
Recorder decided they should be. In addition to this, other — circum-
stantial— evidence was produced against the prisoner ; the poniard, with
which Lambert had been stabbed, and which in falling he had borne
down out of his slayer's hand, was a jewelled Turkish one, known by
many to be the property of the prisoner, and to have been in his pos-«
session many years ; he having brought it home with him from one of
his voyages to the Morea ; the watch also was produced, which, witli
part of the chain, the deceased had held in his clenched hands ; it was
a small silver one, shaped like a tulip, and chequered in alternate squares
of dead and bright metal ; its dial-plate of dead silver, figured, with
a bright circle, containing black Roman figures ; in the interior, on the
works, it bore the inscription — " Thomas Hooke, in Pope's-head-
alley," the brother to the celebrated Robert Hooke, who had recently
invented the spring-pocket-watches. This watch wTas proved to have
also been the property of the prisoner, to have been given by him
to his wife, and lately to have been returned by her to him in order
to be repaired. These circumstances, together with the natural impu-
tation that was cast upon him by the consideration of who the mur-
dered man was, were all that were adduced against Edwards ; and lie
was called on for his defence in person, being, by the mild mercy of the
English law, denied the assistance of counsel for that purpose : it being
wisely considered, that though a man in the nice intricacies of a civil
cause may need technical aid, he cannot possibly do so in a case where
the fact of his life being dependant on the success of his pleading, must
necessarily induce and assist him to have all his wits about him. The

1831.] a Legend of the Old Time in London. 289

prisoner's situation, however, in this instance, seemed, unaccountably, to
have the contrary effect on him, and he appeared quite embarrassed
and confused ; he averred he could not explain the cause of his wife's
extraordinary error ; but that an error it certainly had been. For the
poniard's being in the man's heart he was equally at a loss to account ;
and as for the watch, he admitted all that had been proved, but declared
that he had put it by about a week before the murder in a cabinet,
which he had never since opened, and how it had been removed he was
unable to tell. Of course this defence, if such it could be termed,
availed him very little, in fact simply nothing. The jury found him
guilty; and the Recorder called on him to say why judgment should
not be pronounced against him.

The prisoner seemed suddenly to have recovered his old, or gained
new powers ; he broke out into a strong and passionate appeal, calling
on the judge to believe his word, as that of a dying man, that he was
innocent, and concluded by solemnly calling upon God so to help him,
as he spoke the truth.

He was condemned; the prisoner hid his face in his hand, and sobbed
aloud ; he was removed from the bar to his solitary cell.

About half-past ten that night, as the Recorder was sitting alone,
dozing in his easy chair over the fire and a tankard of mulled claret, he
was suddenly startled by a loud knock at the door, followed up by
the announcement of a stranger, who would brook no delay. He was
admitted — a young man, whose features were fearfully haggard and
drawn, as though writh some intense inward struggle ; in fact, the good
magistrate did not half like his looks, and intimated to his servant that
as his clerk was gone home he had better stay in the room — which was
on the whole a confused remark, as, in the first place, he knew his ser-
vant could not write ; and in the second, he did not know whether any
writing was required ; but the youth relieved the worthy Recorder from
his dilemma, by peremptorily stating that the communication he had to
make must be made to him alone. The servant therefore withdrew,
the Recorder put on his spectacles, and the youth began.

" I come to tell you, Sir, that you have this day unjustly condemned
an innocent man to death."

" Bah ! bah ! And pray how know you that he is innocent ?"

" By this token, Sir, that I know who did the deed for which you
have condemned Master Edwards to suffer. Lambert's murderer stands
before you."

The Recorder, horror-stricken at the notion of being so close to a mur-
derer at large, gabbled out an inarticulate ejaculation, something of an
equivocal nature betwixt an oath and a prayer, and stretched out his
hand towards the silver hand-bell which stood before him on the table ;
and still, more horrified was he when the youth caught his hand, and
said — " No ; with your leave, Sir."

" No ; with my leave, Sir ! What, mean ye to murder me, with my
leave, Sir ?"

" I will do you no harm, Sir. But my confession shall be a willing
and a free one."

He removed the hand-bell beyond the Recorder's reach, let go his arm,
and retired again to a respectful distance. He then proceeded to relate
that his name was Simon Johnson, that he was an orphan, and had been

M. M . New Series.— VOL. XL No. 63. 2 P

290 The Merchant's Clerk; [MARCH,"

bred up with great kindness by Master Edwards. In detailing his story,
he hinted at an unlawful passion which his mistress had endeavoured
to excite in his mind towards her ; and to his resistance or carelessness
of her wiles he partly attributed her hatred and persecution of him : his
home made wretched thereby, he had sought relief in society ; unfortu-
nately for him, he had fallen in with some young men of bad character —
among others with this very Lambert, who had been among his most
strenuous advisers that he should from time to time purloin some of his
master's superfluous wealth, for the purpose of supplying himself and
his companions with the means of more luxurious living ; he had, how-
ever, for a long while rejected this advice, until at length goaded
by the continual unjust accusations of his mistress, charging him with
the very crime he was thus tempted to commit, he had, in truth, done
so, and had absconded with several articles of value ; but his companions,
instead of receiving him with praise, as he had expected, had loaded
him with invectives for not bringing them a richer prize. Instigated by
their reproaches, and, by a mingled sense of shame and anger, he had
intended, by means of a secret key which he had kept, to rob Master
Edwards's house on the very night when the murder was committed.
Having gained access to the court-yard, he was just about to open the
house door, when he heard footsteps ; he retired, and concealed himself.
From his place of concealment he had seen and heard Mrs. Edwards
encouraging Lambert, by many fond and endearing professions of love
for him, and of hatred of his master, to the murder of her husband; arid
as Lambert, conquered by her threats and entreaties, was passing him
within arm's length, an irresistible impulse had urged him to save his
master's life by sacrificing Lambert's ; and having done the deed of
death, he had leaped the yard wall and fled. The poinard and watch
were part of the property he had stolen when he left the house. He
ended thus —

" After I had left the spot, Sir, I fled, I know not whither ; for days
and days I wandered about in the fields, sleeping in sheds, numbed
with cold and half starved, never daring to approach the dwellings of
men to relieve my wants, till dark, and then ever feeling as though every
eye scowled upon me; and when I left them again, and was again alone
in the fields, I would suddenly start and run, with the feeling that I had
been followed, and was about to be taken. In vain I strove to overcome
these feelings — in vain I struggled to reconcile myself to the deed I had
done — in vain I represented it to my heart as one of good, as one which
had saved a life infinitely more valuable than his whom I had slain : it
was all vain, a something within tortured me with unnatural and unde-
finable terror ; and even when I sometimes partially succeeded in allaying
this feeling, and half convinced myself that I had done for the best, it
seemed as if I heard a voice whisper in my own soul, ' What brought thee
to thy master's court-yard that night ?' and this set me raving again.
Unable longer to bear this torture, I made up my mind to self-slaughter,
for the thoughts of delivering myself into the hands of justice drove me
almost mad ; my heart was hardened against making this even late
atonement, and with a reckless daring I resolved on self-slaughter ; but
how, how to do this, I knew not ; drowning was fearful to me, I should
have time perhaps to repent; and so with starving, even if nature would
allow that trial. I returned to the suburbs — it was this very evening —

1831.] a Legend of the Old Time in London. 291

a lanthern hanging on the end of a barber's pole caught my sight — I
hastened into the shop, with the intention of destroying myself with the
first razor I could lay my hands on ; but the shop was quite full. I sat
down in a corner, doggedly waiting for my time, and paying no heed to
the conversation that was going on, till my master's name struck on my
ear. I listened — his trial, condemnation, and coming execution, were
the general talk. I started up, and with a feeling of thankfulness to
God that there was something yet to live for — I think I cried out so — I
rushed out of the shop, hurried hither — I am not too late — to — to supply
my master's place to-morrow."

The young man sank exhausted in a chair, and dropped his head on
the table. The astonished magistrate leant forward, cautiously extended
his hand, seized his hand-bell, and rang loud and long, beginning at the
same time to call over the names of all the servants he had ever had from
the first time of his keeping house.

But at the first jingle of the bell Simon started up from the chair, and
said, " Aye, I am your prisoner now."

" Yes, Sir, yes/' said the Recorder. " Geoffrey ! Williams ! very
true, Sir — by your leave, Sir — Godwin ! Ralph ! there's your prisoner,
Sir," he added to the one wondering servant, who answered this
multitudinous call.

The sequel may be told in a few lines. A reprieve for Edwards was
immediately sent to Newgate, which was followed up by a pardon ; for
having been found guilty, of course he could not be declared innocent.
The wretched wife of the merchant died by her own hand, on the
morning of her husband's reprieve. Simon was tried for Lambert's
murder, of course found guilty, and sentenced to death ; but in con-
sideration of the extraordinary circumstances attending his case, this
sentence was changed into transportation for life. My Lord Chief
Justice Hale delivered a very voluminous judgment on the occasion ;
the main ground on which he proceeded, seems to have been, that as
Simon had not been legally discharged by Edwards, he might still be
considered in the light of his servant, and that he was therefore, to a
certain degree, justifiable in defending his master's life.

Simon died on his passage. Edwards, from the time of his release,
became a drivelling idiot : he lived several years. It was not till the
death of the old man that a secret was discovered — it was ascertained
that Simon was a natural son; and that, in preventing the intended
assassination of the Merchant, he had unconsciously saved the life of his
Father.

2 P 2

[ 292 ] [MARCH,

SIR HENRY PARNELL ON " FINANCIAL REFORM,'1 &C.

IT has been very well observed that the abstract reasonings and
theoretical doctrines of speculators in political economy, are seldom in
unison with the experience of practical men who conduct the real
business of life. Hence it often happens, that the latter finding many
of the reasonings of the theorists incompatible with every day practice,
entertain an undue contempt for their opinions ; and finding them
decidedly wrong on certain points, conclude that they are wrong in all.
They make no allowance for the immense field of inquiry embraced by
the economists, or for the impossibility of one man being able to com-
prehend, and give a clear view of every particular question. The
theorists, on the other hand, are, in the absence of practical knowledge
and experience, apt to reason upon things as they, in pursuance of their
own arguments, would wish to have them, not as they actually are ;
and by substituting matters of opinion for matters of fact, they deceive
themselves, and mislead those who place confidence in their judgment
and research.

Sir Henry Parnell's book on Financial Reform, of which, within
these few days, a third edition, " with additions," has appeared, affords a
strong proof that one man may reason very accurately on certain points,
to which he has specially directed his attention, whilst on others, not
so much within the sphere of his observation, his opinions and state-
ments may be at variance with well known facts, and even contrary to
common sense.

We would place under the first division almost every thing Sir Henry
has said relative to taxation and retrenchment ; while we think that a
slight examination of many of the assertions and dogmas put forth in the
chapter, specially appropriated to Colonial affairs, will justify us in con-
sidering them erroneous and inadmissible, in so far at least as they
may be supposed applicable to our West India possessions.

It is justly observed " that no parliamentary documents shew what
the whole expence is that is paid, by English taxes, on account of the
Colonies; and that it is generally estimated that from two to three
millions are paid for the army, navy, and various civil charges." But
so ignorant does Sir Henry appear to be on this subject, that he actually
quotes an erroneous statement made on the subject of West India
expenditure, from that mendacious publication, the Anti- Slavery Re-
porter ! He, further, refers to a treasury letter of the 24th of March,
1827;, in which it is stated that the collective expenditure of five of
our colonies has exceeded, on an account of ten and more years, the
colonial revenues applicable to the discharge of it, so as to have con-
stituted a deficiency of £^524,000 ; but Sir Henry might have seen
by a subsequent official document that this deficiency does not relate to
our West India colonies, but is referable to Ceylon, Mauritius, the
Cape of Good Hope, Malta, £c. ; and it certainly appears to be no proof
of candour on the part of Sir Henry, to quote from a degraded source,
leaving authentic documents on the other side of the question, unnoticed.

We believe that the expenses actually paid by Great Britain in governing
her West India Colonies, has been variously estimated at from £700,000
to £1,100,000 or 1,200,000. The whole charge on account of the lee-
ward and windward islands in 1828 was stated at nearly £500,000, and
allowing £350,000 for the naval and military expenditure of Jamaica,

1831.] Sir Henry Parnell on " Financial Reform," $c. 293

and £200,000 for naval purposes generally, the whole expense does not
exceed about a million sterling — a considerable part of which sum
would be necessary for the maintenance of our commercial and other
interests, although we no longer possessed a single trans-atlantic colony ;
and were the whole of the money, raised in the West Indies, and
applied towards the maintenance of British troops, forts, fortifications,
barracks, salaries to Governors, Judges, ecclesiastical establishments,
public officers, and miscellaneous services — fairly stated, its gross
amount would be found equal to more than the whole expense which,
under ordinary circumstances, might be necessary for the defence and
good government of these possessions, supposing their various institu-
tions assimilated to those of the United States.

Moreover, it will be found on an examination of the documents lately
submitted to the Board of Trade by the West Indians, that independ-
ently of the immense sum drawn from them in the shape of enormous
duties on their staple commodity, they are, by British restrictions, put
to an expense of nearly a million and a half in the cost of their supplies,
in support of the British fisheries, manufactories, shipping, and other
interests not directly connected with these plantations !*

Whether the business of the colonial department will now be put upon
a more efficient footing, so that at least clear accounts may be kept, is
matter of doubt ; — hitherto we have seen no symptoms of amendment.

Sir Henry recommends that the system of applying the revenues of
the Colonies in paying enormous salaries, building Governor's houses,
making canals and roads, and improving in various other ways the
estates of the colonial proprietors, should be abolished. " The offi-
cial establishments in the Colonies should be revised, and reduced to
what is merely necessary ; excessive salaries should be diminished, and
none but efficient officers should be appointed." A great part of these
reforms would operate in favour of our West Indian Colonies — others
do not apply to them. " All restrictions on colonial trade" (including, of
course, restrictions on the Slave Trade?) "should be taken off, and then
each Colony should be made to pay its own expenses." — We have no
hesitation in saying, that were this to be the case, the West Indians
would compete with any Colonies in the world. These restrictions on
their trade are, upon close examination and laborious calculations, said
to amount to 5*. 6%d. upon every cwt. of sugar, and nearly 6d. on every
gallon of rum made in the British West Indies ! while, at the same
time, the foreign planter can, in consequence of his continuing to carry

* These sums are thus stated : —

Enhancement of price paid for fish, to support the North Ameri-
can fisheries £75,544

Enhancement, to suport the British fisheries at home 368,668

Enhancement, to benefit the British North American Colonies .... 86,677
Enhancement of Freights, to support British Shipping in the

North American Trade 94,801

Enhancement of price for American articles 187,576

Enhancement of price for British articles, to support Manufac-
turing interests at home 372,57-5

Enhancement of Freights, to benefit British Shipping employed

in the European Trade ". , . 513,825

Total sum paid by the West Indians in consequence of the

restrictions on their Trade £1,399,665

294 Sir Henry Parnell on " Financial Reform" $c. [[MARCH,

on the Slave Trade, and by being at liberty to receive his supplies from,
and send his produce to, any market he may think proper — raise sugar
cheaper by 17-?. the cwt. than the British planter ! — Remove all these
restrictions, or in the name of justice and humanity give him some ad-
vantages to counteract the onerous restrictions you forcibly impose upon
him, in all his operations !

Sir Henry affirms that the Colonies form so small a portion of the
market for British goods, that it would be a groundless exaggeration to
say, that the British manufacturer would sustain injury from the re-
moval of all restrictions on the intercourse of the Colonies with foreign-
ers. " In the states of North and South America, where trade is free (?)
with all nations, the great mass of imports are received from Great
Britain, because the British goods are cheaper than others." This may
be true to a certain small extent : — but we would ask Sir Henry whe-
ther he can maintain that the linens and fish of the north of Europe,
or provisions, lumber, staves, &c. of the United States, are not cheaper
than those of Great Britain, or than such as are furnished in a circui-
tous manner, under present restrictions ? We presume to think that,
although, in the event of the productive industry of the Colonies being
kept up, the loss to the British manufacturer (however the agriculturist
and fisherman might suffer) might not be so great, — yet supposing
these possessions to be thrown out of cultivation, the loss of such a
market to the British manufacturer and agriculturist would not be so
trifling as Sir Henry, in hammering out his theory, seems to imagine.
We perceive by a return, No. 292 of the last session of Parliament, that
the total export of British and Irish produce and manufactures to our

West-Indies, in 1829, amounted to . .. £3,726,643

and that they were our customers for Foreign and
Colonial merchandize (independent of fish provisions and
lumber from our North American possessions) to the
amount of 323,213

£4,049,856

Now the total amount of our exports to " South America, where
trade is free to all nations," during the same year, is according to the
same return, as follows, viz :

Mexico 534,380

Guatemala 10,493

Columbia , . . . . 556,961

Rio-de-la Plata 484,364

Chili 1,182,140

Peru 518,873

£3,287,211

To Brazil our exports are considerably greater, but it must be recol-
lected that no inconsiderable part of the goods sent to that country,
are te-exported to Africa, and exchanged there for slaves ! We may
further state that the British and Irish produce and manufactures
taken in one year by our West-India Colonies, are, as appears by the
same return, greater in official value than the exports to Russia,

1831.] Sir Henry Par mil on « Financial Reform," tyc. 295

Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Prussia, France, Spain and the Canaries,
Turkey and Continental Greece — combined !

Under these circumstances it requires seme consideration of the
probable consequences before we can accede to the proposition that the
British manufacturer would sustain little injury by the loss of the West
India market !

Sir Henry justly observes, that "no law, perhaps, that was ever
made, is so entirely at variance in its enactments with the principle on
which it was proposed and professedly framed, as the Colonial act of
1825." In this we perfectly agree with him ; and we would be glad
if he could point out a single legislative measure devised at home and
imposed upon the Colonists during the last fifty years, which has opera-
ted beneficially ? The only operations of the acts alluded to, were to
create an annoyance to the Colonists, and entail an additional charge of
£50,653 per annum upon them for custom-house officers — beyond what
they formerly paid !

" If the planters of our Colonies are ever," says Sir Henry, " to
carry on a successful competition with foreigners in supplying foreign
countries with sugars, it is absolutely necessary that these restrictions
on food, lumber, &c. should be done away, or that they should be
countervailed by continuing to tax the people of England by high
duties on foreign sugar/' In this also we agree with him. But if
the people of this country are to impose upon the Colonists restrictions
on his trade, equal to £1,400,000 per annum, or 5s. 6d% per cwt. of
sugar, to promote their own interests, and if they allow the foreigner to
carry on the slave trade, which is interdicted to our planters, and
which gives the foreigner an advantage over us on raising sugar, of
about 17*. 3d. per cwt., surely the people of England are in common
justice entitled to give the planter something as an equivalent ?

Let all these restrictions be removed, or let Europe redeem its pledge
to put down the slave trade ; and let the British planter have an equi-
valent for the 5*. 6f/| imposed upon him, and he will then be in a
situation to compete, successfully, with foreign colonies, " instead of
continually looking to Government and Parliament for relief/'

In arguing for the repeal of the old monopoly system, he asserts,
<e that the possession of Colonies affords no advantages which could not
be obtained by commercial intercourse with independent states." We
think that at least, as regards our West India Colonies, this assertion is
equally absurd and unfounded. The same number of foreigners will
not consume the same quantity of British manufactures and produce,
as an equal number of British Colonists ; neither will they employ the
same number of British shipping and seamen ; in time of war they will
not, like colonies, form stations for the maintenance of our foreign trade,
nor assist in enabling the mother country, as in the late wars, to main-
tain her independence ; but, indeed, when we see in the very next page
Sir Henry asserting that " the capital which supplies commodities for
the Colonies would still prepare commodities if the Colonies ceased to pur-
chase them, and these commodities would find consumers, FOR EVERY

COUNTRY CONTAINS WITHIN ITSELF A MARKET FOR ALL IT CAN PRO-
DUCE ! !" — we may cease to feel surprise at any absurdity which, on
Colonial subjects, he may choose to put forth.

With respect to the question whether our commerce with the Colonies
is more beneficial than with independent countries, the question,

29(3 Sir Henry Parndl on " Financial Reform," $c. [[MARCH,,

says Sir Henry, is one " easily solved, because, where the employment
of capital is free, the nett profit that may be obtained by the employ-
ment of it in commerce with independent countries, will always be as
great as if it were employed in the Colonial trade. The trade we carry
on with the United States proves this."

On this point we would take leave to observe, that the trade with the
United States is one which can scarcely be classed as a trade with fo-
reigners. It is a trade which was first established through our ancient
Colonial policy, and which is still maintained by the essentially English
manners and habits of the people of the United States. Sir Henry will
not attempt to contend, that if the manners and habits of these citizens
approximated to those of the Russians, the French, the Spaniards, or
any other European nation — that they would be our customers for one
tenth part of the goods they now buy from us ? — The Russians, for in-
stance, from whom, in 1829, we took tallow, hemp, flax, &c., to the
amount of £3,442,653, only received from us British and Irish produce
and manufactures to the value of £1,849,312 ; whereas, the people of
the United States took our produce and manufactures to the extent of
£6,541,428, and we only required their produce, in return, to the extent
of £5,820,580. The French were our customers to the extent of
£448,437 only ; whilst we took their produce to the value of £3,159,307.
Spain and the Canaries only £410,822 ; although for their encourage-
ment, we received to the value of £978,612 of their commodities.* But
what then ? " every country contains within itself a market for all it can
produce !" and, therefore, who cares for their custom ?

Another material point has been entirely overlooked in estimating the
advantage of our West India Colonies. The whole of the profits upon
capital employed there returns and is spent in the mother country.
It has been estimated, that for a long series of years, the sum thus
brought to enrich the mother country was somewhere between three and
Jive millions sterling per annum. We would ask Sir Henry, what trade
with " independent states" would yield any similar advantage ?

With respect to another question, ' whether the capital employed in
our Colonies is more beneficially employed, than if employed in the
United Kingdom ?' Sir Henry affirms that " in the West India islands
it feeds and clothes slaves :" very true ! But who derives profit and em-
ployment in furnishing a great part of the food, and the wrhole of their
clothing ? Is it not the British agriculturist ? fisher ? and manufacturer ?
" It pays British agents, clerks, and managers," — who could not find
employment at home, but who return to their native country to spend
their earnings so soon as they have acquired a moderate competency —
f( It employs ships and sailors" — who could not find employment else-
where ; — " and although the gross profit upon it seems, in prosperous
times, to be very high, the nett profit is not greater than it is on capital
employed at home ;" — perhaps not — but suppose that the capital em-
ployed in the West Indies could be transferred to Great Britain, how
could it be profitably employed at home ? We apprehend it is not a want
of capital, but a want of customers to give employment to our manu-
facturing and agricultural labourers, that is the cause of our present
distress ; and that this distress has been augmented by diminishing,
through our absurd Colonial policy, the usual return of profits to the

* Parliamentary Return No. 292, Sess: 1830.

1831.] Sir Henry Par ncll on " Financial Reform," %c. 297

mother country on capital employed in the Colonies — can hardly be
doubted. " When capital is employed in England/' says Sir Henry,
" for instance, on manufactures, it pays English workmen, instead of
buying clothes and food for slaves ; it employs agents, clerks and ma-
nagers, it employs ships and sailors to import raw materials, and to
export the finished goods. The incomes derived by West India pro-
prietors from profits on their capital are spent like incomes derived
from rent, and add nothing to the national wealth ; but the profits
made on capital employed in trades at home are added to capital, and
thus promote the constant accumulation of it." All this may be very
plausible, but at the same time it is evidently fallacious; Sir Henry
entirely overlooks one point, namely — that before any profit can be
obtained, goods must find purchasers ; in so far, therefore, as the West
India proprietors are purchasers of clothes and food for their negroes,
the profits go to augment the capital of the manufacturer and agricul-
turist at home ; and incomes, derived from rent, especially rent from
abroad, certainly go on, in the same way, to augment British capital.

" It is clear, therefore, that on the whole/' says this financial refor-
mer ; "the public derives no commercial advantage from the Colonies,
which it might not have without them." We think it clear that the
very reverse is the fact ! " They do not," says he, "even afford any
advantage, as some persons suppose, by enlarging the field for the
employment of capital. The capital which supplies commodities for the
colonies, would still prepare commodities, if the colonies ceased to pur-
chase them : and these commodities would find consumers — for every
country contains within itself a market for all it can produce !!"

What egregious fools the manufacturers of Great Britain and Ireland
must be to hazard their goods, in every quarter of the globe in search
of a market, while this cf country contains within itself a market for all
it can produce I !" It would be a waste of time to adduce facts to shew
the gross absurdity of such assertions.

It is stated that there are still means enough for employing capital at
home ; and that if new means were wanted, they would be more effec-
tually obtained by removing restrictions on trade and revising the
taxes, than by increasing the productions of the colonies—or, in other
words, free trade and revision of taxes is the panacea for all our evils !

" The history of the colonies for many years is that of a series of
loss, and of the destruction of capital ; and if to the many millions of
private capital which have been thus wasted, were added some hundred
millions that have been raised by British taxes, and spent on account
of the Colonies — the total loss to the British public of wealth which
the Colonies have occasioned, would appear to be quite erroneous." If
Sir Henry means to apply this reasoning, in part or whole to our
West-India possessions, we do not hesitate to say that it is a monstrous
misrepresentation of the case ! that it was her transatlantic colonies
that first advanced Great Britain to her present rank amongst commer-
cial nations ; and that her sugar colonies have, annually, for a long
series of years, poured immense wealth into the mother country —
adding to her general prosperity — to her amount of capital stock, and,
at the same time, promoting to an incalculable extent, her general
prosperity.

In his eulogium upon the prosperity of Cuba — which prosperity he
attributes entirely to principles of free-trade — he keeps entirely out of

M.M. New Scries.— VOL. XI. No. 63. 2 Q

298 Sir Henry Parnell on " Financial Reform," $c. [[MARCH,

view the notorious fact, that its successful exertions are owing to its
continual importation of fresh labourers from Africa ; and that the
" small proprietors/' who are said to cultivate their properties with-
out the aid of slaves, are principally employed in raising provisions,
cattle, and mules, for the use of the sugar estates ; and in hunting,
as monteros, the runaway negroes !

In conclusion we have only to remark, that if we are to square the
commercial and Colonial policy of this country by the rule and opi-
nions of this Political Economist and Financial Reformer, our ship-
owners may dismantle about one half of their ships,* our manufacturers
may dismiss a part of their labourers, a great part of our fishermen
may give up their occupation ; the fundholder may look for a serious
diminution of the interest on his unsubstantial property — and every class
of the community may prepare themselves for difficulties and privations,
little short of what might be caused by a National Bankruptcy !

THE PERSONAL AND POLITICAL PORTRAIT OF PRINCE
METTERNICH.

FEW men have attracted more attention in their generation, than the
Prince Metternich. Born of an ancient and noble family, but unaided
by the advantages of fortune, undistinguished by education, and
ungifted with extraordinary intellectual powers, yet possessing extreme
dexterity, a rapid and clear perception of human character, with
exquisite tact of manner and address ; insinuating in discourse, and
eminently graceful in action; effeminate in personal appearance, and, if
not depraved in taste, indifferent to, or wholly devoid of respect for
more than the forms of his church; he trembled not to seize the helm
of state of the Austrian empire, under the most difficult circumstances ;
and adapting himself to events with suppleness, he for some time,
like the automaton chess-player, never moved but to victory, of what-
ever force his antagonist might be ; but no expression of dread, or
joy, or triumph, could be remarked in that piece of mysterious mecha-
nism.

Whatever may be the distant and ultimate destiny of his name and
fortunes, the dark shadow of " coming events" has, just now, somewhat
obscured their usual lustre ; and it is, haply, while their sometime bril-
liancy stands impaired, and when the eye is no longer overpowered by
their light, that it may better consider some few of the man's humanities;
for who might safely advert to the qualities of the minister and the
prince, where those qualities are best understood, and where they are
more indistinctly comprehended? who would willingly thread the
labyrinth of diplomatic intrigue, or patiently chronicle the ever varying
phases of that sidus errans which shed its better or baneful influence
on men and things, just as they happened to be proud and powerful,
or humble and degraded ? It is enough that Italy may best become the

* By Parliamentary Return No 51, Session 1829, it appears that the employ-
ment of British shipping outwards, in one year, was as follows,

Men. Ships. Tons.

To British Possessions and Dependencies 56,493 4,701 90,150

To Foreign Countries 55,892 6,780 997,532

1831.] Personal and Political Portrait of Prince Melternich. 299

historian of his generosity and kindness, the Tyroleans record his
justice, and the Swiss descant on his respect for ancient freedom.

The Prince, however, has been taught to feel that the schoolmaster
is abroad. Perhaps this is scarcely the proper moment to refer, with
exorbitant enthusiasm, to the admirable effects resulting from the
Congress of Vienna, which Prince Metternich has regarded as his field
of fame, and from which his greater wealth and dignity were derived
— the vine-covered hills of Johannisberg, the friendship of his Grace,
and (Gallice) the eternal gratitude of Europe. " The division is now
complete !" was the triumphant exclamation of the prince, as he ter-
minated his labours. Whatever scepticism may have existed at the
moment on the subject in the minds of the ignorant and unenlightened,
there can be none now ; and, although late, verily, this Stultz of nations
" has his reward." But, it has been said (for decorum forbid that we
should originate the violation of the secrets of that council of national
representatives, or even disclose what we have heard, with pain and
sorrow equivalent to that of the man of office, who having married
a wife, in the prospect of his retiring pension, found himself under the
necessity of evacuating Downing Street a full honeymoon short of the
term of expected bliss) — it has been said that a scene less pathetic than
singular occurred in that solemn convocation, which, in ludicrous effect,
might well have become a British House of Commons. In the warmth
of debate on a momentous and contested point, the prince, relying upon
his state and influence for protection, hesitated not to contradict a soldier,
and that soldier a Briton : the result whereof was a rather unequivocal
suggestion of the trite adage of " an Irishman's sword being the key to
the other world" — a liberal offer of the choice of weapons, from a cane
to a cannon — with some disagreeable hints from good-natured friends,
there present, of his antagonist's mattress being composed of mousta-
ches of the slain, and his possessing the tenantcy in common of a
private cemetery. The prince, in generous consideration of the happi-
ness of the human race, forbore any expression of sentiment that might
compromise that mundane felicity which he had just so ably settled ;
but, ardent for the emancipation of the Austrian vocabulary, his viva-
cious adversary appealed to his honour, by a laudatory argumentum ad
hominem, and in giving practical illustration of the principles of a
Holy Alliance, simultaneously overthrew the person and theory of the
Aulic counsellor, and frightened from their propriety the wits of the
illustrious members of that celebrated conclave.

Whether or not the prince was above noticing what occurred " behind
his back," it is reported that he suddenly withdrew from that too
animated conference, and if ever afterwards referred to on the subject,
-adopted, haply, the skilful evasion of the gascon, who, on being reminded
by a good-natured friend that he had been publicly termed a coward,
replied, " Pho ! Nobody believed it." — " You received besides a
blow I" — " I am short-sighted, and took it for a mere gesture." — " But
you were caned, and ran out of doors !" — " My dear friend, I expected
my adversary would follow me!" — His inimitable diplomacy and
pure virtue on the occasion, went not, however, unrewarded by those
in whose cause he suffered. The fair vine-covered hills, and proud
chateau of Johannisberg were his immediate recompence, the able con-
veyancers of the Congress having discovered an opportune flaw in the
title of Marshal Kellerman to those rich domains ; and who that ever

2 Q 2

300 Personal and Political Portrait of Prince Metternich. QMAR.

visited that spot,, and beheld the waters of the Rhine, and the woods
of Nassau from its terrace, but must envy its owner the fortunate
assault which led to so rich a prize ? The generous produce of a small
portion of its vines, has been long celebrated throughout Germany, as
possessed of rare qualities of intoxication, in exciting singular mental
delusion and visual deception, and in rendering the sense of sight wholly
unfaithful to its office. In the hands of Prince Metternich, it has be-
come exclusively diplomatic drink. Perhaps the various European
statesmen, whose errors of late may have excited hatred or contempt,
might have been more properly pitied for excesses, caused by the treach-
erous liquor of the prince. The ordonnances of "Charles" had no
other origin, and even the counsellors of Louis Philippe have not appa-
rently had the resolution to refrain from the fascinating but perilous
draught. The abstemious Hollander himself, when he commanded
the Wallons to gibber Flemish instead of French, (as Sir Walter had
previously made them do in Qtientin Durward,) and when he imposed
on De Potter a name, credit and influence, which but for the monarch's
imprudently expressed indignation, he would have never attained, was
clearly under its fatal influence. The Poles when they rushed to arms,
where arms were not, probably felt the effects of the pernicious
glass. The Swiss, but now tempted to the task, will shortly have to
deplore their weakness.

To the same source must be referred the strange policy of the Prince
himself, since Johannisberg was his, and of which he is now reaping
or about to reap the rich reward. If consistency be a virtue, to it at least
he may lay claim ; and in respect to severity of discipline in his admi-
nistration, he stands in the position of the Frenchman, who on being
reproached by his sovereign, that "When once satisfied, courtiers
were proverbially ungrateful," frankly answered, te That is not my
case, Sire, for I am insatiable/' In selecting, for our present purpose,
one example from the vast, rich schedule of acts of ministerial justice, it
is but charitable and candid to the Austrian minister to vindicate his
exclusive title to the authorship of it — as the mild, humane, and quiet cha-
racter of his master is known to be averse to cruelty ; and in his quali-
fied praise it may be asserted, that if he had not strength of mind to
give expression to his better feelings or enforce his better intentions, he
at least never counselled or directed the many remarkable operations of
his minister's Haute Police. The hand becomes weary in turning over
the records for selection ; and Austria Proper, the Tyrol, and Piedmont
and Italy press for preference on the choice. Let us take with Sterne
" a single captive* and look through the twilight of his grated door.
The Conte di Gonfalonieri, as the name imports, was of an ancient and
honourable family (derived from the noblest of the Florentine magis-
trates whose proud office it was, in ancient days, to bear the Gonfanon,
or Banner of the Church), and in consequence of his talent and virtues,
more than his name, was appointed by Eugene Beauharnois, when
Viceroy of Italy, his Grand Ecuyer, an office in which, in his public cha-
racter, he was as much respected as he had been beloved in his private ca-
pacity. On the fall of Buonaparte and the erection of the Lombard- Veneto
kingdom, he was removed from office, and aware that he stood an object
of jealousy to the new rulers of his native land, he cautiously abstained
from offence, and strove to avoid the very suspicion of interference
in politics. Unhappily, in a moment of false confidence in the few

1831.] Personal and Political Portrait of Prince Metternich. 301

Avith whom he was associated in a private and friendly meeting in1
1823, he dared to express his hopes that the Treaty of Vienna would
be loyally and fully executed in favour of Italy, and that the scanty
privileges it yet afforded her might not be withholden. Had he
presumed, publicly, to have reminded the government of a promise
voluntarily proffered in behalf of his country, his imprudence might
with difficulty have been pronounced treason, even by Doctor Francia
himself: but to the agents of Austria, a comment on ministerial
measures was as hateful in itself as perilous in the sight of
tyranny. He was seized : and, after lying long in prison, brought
before the Tribunal of Milan, on the accusation of being a Carbonaro
(the convenient denunciation throughout Italy where crime is wanting,
or proof defective), and he was condemned to die. Thrice did his
young and lovely wife leave his dungeon, and cross the Tyrolian Alps,
to seek mercy at the hands of the Emperor : and, having twice procured
a suspension of her husband's execution, returned on the last occasion
with the promise of mitigation of punishment, through the organ of
the minister. That promise was fulfilled ; — if not to the full extent of
his partner's hopes, or the prisoner's merit — or, if without reference to
the nature and extent of the crime, or the evidence by which it wras sus-
tained— humanity must have its due, and truth its honour. It was ful-
filled. The Conte di Gonfalonieri was placed in the pillory, on the
Piazzeta of the Spirito Santo, at Milan. He was thence conducted, in
chains, to the Castle of Spielburg, and is there permitted to calculate
the term of his imprisonment, by anticipating that hour " when the
weary shall be at rest." It so happened that a wretched Frenchman,
of the name of Andryane, was discovered, at the same period, with
some Masonic emblems in his portmanteau, and a certificate of his being
a member of the society " DCS Amis de la Ver'ite :" so the economy of
justice suggested that the sentence applied to the unfortunate Conte
might be also adapted to the Gaul. It was so done, and he was allowed
the full benefit of a share in the former's condemnation. The simple
rule of government announced by old Ferdinand of Naples, to the
British Ambassador, " Thanks be to God, Sir, here we have no laws/'
if it has hitherto tranquillized the vivacious Italians, may be presumed
likely to produce ultimate inconveniences to those who dispense too
liberally with legislation.

In the solitude of private life and the grave silence of his home, the
proud and potent station of the minister has been greatly contrasted by
those misfortunes, which the adulation of flatterers, or the passive
obedience of millions, cannot compensate. Married in early life to a
lady of the noble family of Kaunitz — one who has been described as
scarcely more celebrated for beauty and accomplishments than for her
many virtues — the first appearance of the Countess at the Imperial Court
of Napoleon, (whither the Count went as the ambassador of his sove-
reign,) produced a sensation on the cercle at the Tuileries, which first
attracted the attention of foreigners to the then unrecognized merits of
the Prince. With the termination of his embassy, however, the attach-
ment he had evinced for one who well deserved his love expired ; and,
separating himself from her who was yet in the prime of life and beauty,
for fourteen long years he transferred his affections to his daughter,
who inherited more than the charms of one and the grace of the other
parent ; and during that period he never infringed the distant limits of

302 Personal and Political Portrait of Prince Metternich. [MAR.

cold respect, or violated those severe and formal observances, which,
in spite of estranged feeling, honour and duty imposed on him towards
her mother. In 1825, the Prince unexpectedly and abruptly learned
the illness and imminent danger of the woman he had loved, when all
the feelings of his heart were suddenly aroused in their fullest force ;
but he arrived only to give them utterance over her death-bed. The
surpassing beauty of the daughter has been delineated with great skill
and delicacy by Sir Thomas Lawrence, who, when commanded to pre-
pare for the admiration of posterity the portraits of Earth's Potentates,
with instructions, on his referring to an obvious difficulty, to supply all
deficiency of spiritual or intellectual expression, by an increase of em-
broidery and orders, must have felt all ornament unnecessary there.
The portrait of the father was equally successful ; for King Ferdinand
after regarding it (at Naples, in 1819), with demonstrations of awkward
fear and pious awe, observed, in a tremulous whisper, " Faith, one
might almost imagine the Prince incapable of tricking the world —
Let us be off— let us be off— I don't trust him— I don't trust him."

The devotion of the Prince to the tastes of his royal master, who

had but a few years previously married his fourth wife, induced him to

imitate that uxorious example ; and he had already speculated upon

noble, wealthy, and influential connections, when the charms of

Mademoiselle de Laeckem induced him to renounce nobility for the

stage — prefer pirouettes to quarterings — and cabrioles to title-deeds.

Great was the astonishment, and excessive the indignation of the

noblesse of Vienna — Semper Augustus was more august than serene,

and declared the measure a pas-bas — that the minister should be

coupe, and his agile intended chassee by the court. The Prince was

however obstinate, and the monarch had to balancer between the loss of

a favourite minister and the recognition of the Saltatrix. The minuet

and gallopade were at length successfvd ; and this union of L'Automne

au Printemps was duly sanctioned and recognized. It was terminated

in somewhat less than a year by the hand of death ; and, since that

epoch, little has occurred in the events of his political life, to soothe

Prince Metternich's feelings for the various domestic privations he has

been doomed to endure. It is now believed, that having witnessed

the ruin and destruction of that costly but sand-built edifice of European

government, which had demanded of him such time and pains to rear ;

that having survived his ministerial utility, which, wholly independent

of affection, respect, or moral confidence, preserved him in his " pride

of place ;" conscious of the distrust entertained of him by the King of

Hungary, the heir to the sceptre of the Caesars ; baffled in the success

of the schemes of the Cardinal in France, in which he was haply earlier

identified than the unhappy ministers who are paying the severe penalty

of misplaced obedience to another's will ; — he is preparing to deposit, in

the hands of Monsieur dc Wessenberg, the portfolio of his Ministry'; and

intends, in the desolation of his home, to indulge in reminiscences of

the past, and " chew the cud of bitter fancy" within the walls of

Johannisberg. We have scaled the fence of the domain ; and shall

haply, ere long, approach1 the edifice in threading the thicket of its

woods. If our ears may catch some of the Manfred-like musings of its

lord, " Nous serous secret comme un coup de canon."

1831 .J [ 303 ]

ODE TO A MATRON PENSIONER :
BY A PERSON OP QUALITY.

0 LOVED by my father and me,
Perhaps by my grandfather too ;

From eighteen to eighty and three —
A beauty, a belle, and a blue.

Dear mother of mothers, farewell,
Even rapture grows irksome to thee ;

The heart, wayward thing, will rebel,
Though thou art but eighty and three. •

Did I love ? May I ne'er be forgiven

My cargo of frailties and fears ;
May my spirit in anguish be riven ;

May I hear a debate in the Peers !

May I sit out my Lord Durham's speech,
May I writhe upon Wellington's wit ;

May I hear my Lord Tolderol preach,
Or Lord Bathurst " remind us" of Pitt.

May I do all impossible things ;

May I make dandy Devonshire smile,
Or reckon Brocard's diamond rings,

Or of wit my Lord Nugent beguile !

But I loved you; with rapture how bright,
Strong, yet soft, like the curls of your hair;

But my sunshine is all turned to night,
And my rapture is fled— Heaven knows where !

When I drive through the streets in my cab,
I let all the world pass me by ;

1 look, as if caught by Queen Mab,
With a dream on my heart, or my eye.

Recollections of tenderness gone,

Of raptures no more to return,
Of beauty as cold as a stone,

Of sighs that no longer will burn ;

Of calls twice a day at your door,
Of smiles when I made my way in ;

Of billet-doux sent by the score,
Of presents of " best Marasquin."

Of purses unstrung at your beck,
Of diamonds from Levi's and Green's,

Till my banker grew pale at my check,
And a blank were " my ways and my means."

'Twas one evening, the sun gave a gleam,
That threw every wrinkle in light;

On thy cheek shewed the rouge and cold cream,
And traced through thy locks all the white.

304 Ode to a Matron Pensioner. [MARCH,

There was not a tooth in thy head,

But that light shewed me 'twas not thine own ;

Not a lock on thy forehead was spread,
But it proved on that spot 'twas not grown.

I saw thee, the exquisite work

Of the artist's most exquisite skill ;
Thy bosom from Madame de Yorke —

Thy visage from Monsieur de Ville.

And I sighed as I saw the eve-star,

That rose on a vision so sweet ;
And I scarcely had tuned my guitar,

When I dropped on the floor at thy feet.

I felt— though the daylight was done,

And twilight was veiling the grove —
That thine eye to my eye was a sun,

The sun of my soul and my love.

And I sang, u Think'st thou absence will bring

To the soul of thy lover relief?
Or Time, with its wide-waving wing,

For a thousand years be not too brief?

" Was it well that even Dukes should defraud

My heart of thee, exquisite one !
That a Marquis should lure thee abroad,

Though thy husband of drones were the drone ?"

The day died away on the breeze,

The dew from the roses dropped round ;

While I still sang the strain on my knees,
In the spells of thy beauty still bound.

Montessu may dance light as an elf,

Or Kariiel may ride a moon-beam ;
Yet where can I fly from myself?

I care not one sixpence for them !

If I rush to the ultimate pole,

The haunt of the fox and the bear.

Still, still— the thought withers my soul-
No Venus of fourscore is there !

If I lounge in the window at Long's,

To sneer at the passing canaille,
I think of thy years and my wrongs,

And feel like a leaf on the gale.

1 sent away Zoe last week —

To-night I send off Stephanie ;
Then I'll go, and, like Byron, die Greek.

Ah ! farewell, lovely Eighty-and-three !

1831.] [ 305 ]

DUBLIN SAINTS.

LONDON is a kind of universe, and embraces in its vast circumference a
variety of worlds. There is the fashionable world, the literary world,
the theatrical world, the musical world, the sporting world, the mercan-
tile world. The Irish capital can with propriety be said to contain only
two — the worlds of politics and religion. As to Fashion, her dominions
scarcely extend to a dozen drawing-rooms. Literature, notwithstanding
the University and Lady Morgan, must be admitted to sway a barren
sceptre. The Drama hides her diminished head. Commerce sits with
folded hands, and sighs over her " occupation gone/' The sporting
world is represented in the single person of a gallant officer, who in-
dulges six couple of beagles in an hebdomadal airing round the squares.
The man of pleasure and man of business are alike inanimate. With
the two exceptions we have stated, all the pursuits and pastimes of
society are as tame and languid as if the " Castle of Indolence" stood on
the banks of the Liffey, and diffused over the surrounding city its
drowsy influence. Beaus, scholars, critics, merchants, sportsmen are
sunk in the same torpor ; and no characters are up and stirring but the
Politician and the Saint.

Here therefore are two aspects in which Dublin requires to be con-
sidered— each of sufficient importance to claim separate attention.
Things secular however should wait on things spiritual ; and accord-
ingly we dedicate the present paper to the " Religious World."

One word we must premise. Let it not be supposed, that, because the
fashionable world means a circle whose business is fashion ; and the
literary world a circle whose business is literature ; the religious world
must therefore mean a circle whose business is religion. Or if such be the
only definition that will content the reader, let him beware at least of
this — that he annex to the word fl religion," no other ideas than Bible
societies, and Jew societies, foreign missions and home missions, tracts,
conventicles, and floating-chapels ; otherwise the good understanding
that should ever subsist between writer and reader will be broken — such
and such only being the import of the term when we predicate it of the
Saints of Dublin.

There is then a large and influential circle in the said city, which calls
itself, and is called " the religious world." In this circle nothing is read
but tracts, missionary reports, the Christian Examiner and the Evan-
gelical Magazine : no preacher is tolerated who has not settled to the day
and hour the commencement of the millemum, returned from a mission
to Madagascar, or squared his doctrines to the strictest rules of supra-
lapsarian Calvinism. In the draAving-rooms of this circle quadrilles are
as abominable as hazard -tables, and no conversation is permitted save
on the topics which Milton's fiends discussed so learnedly in Pande-
monium—

" On providence, foreknowledge, will and fate,
Fixed fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute,
And found no end in wandering mazes lost."

The ball is turned into a prayer-meeting — no music now, but Songs of
Sion, or the Olney Hymns — no entertainment but the lecture of the pet-
saint of the family, or the reigning apostle of the season. The theatre is
anathematized — even the flower-shew has been denounced — sin has been
M. M. New SeriM.— VOL. XL No. 63. 2 R

30(5 Dublin Saints. [MARCH,

discovered in a hyacinth, and all ungodliness in a camelia japonica. A
painting of the Crucifixion brought down the malison of all the Saints
upon an exhibition of pictures, which was thereupon declared to savour
of idolatry ; and the accidental circumstance of Rothwell's " Dead
Christ" having been shewn in the same room with " a dancing faMrn,"
occasioned as much up-turning of the eyes as if a second Paine had
openly traduced the gospel. With the poet it fares no better than with
the painter and statuary. Pollock's " Course of Time," is almost the
only poem, except such things as the " Satan" and " Omnipresence," to
be found in any drawing-room of sanctity. Dr. Bowdler's mutilated
Shakspeare may perhaps be discovered in some forgotten corner ; but,
generally speaking, the poets, ancient and modern, are held in the same
light as the Apocrypha, or "Week's Preparation," the latter of which
was lately torn to pieces in a fit of holy indignation by the orator of a
fashionable pulpit. Pope composed the " Universal Prayer ;" Dryden
rhymed in defence of Rome ; Milton was an Any-thing-arian ; Gray
was a moralist ; and Byron a blasphemer ; so that Don Quixote's
library was not more severely handled by the unromantic Curate, than
the treasures of English poetry by the critics of this religious world. It
is not surprising therefore, that the lovers of literature, and all the ele-
gant arts that soften and embellish life, begin to be alarmed for their
innocent enjoyments, and look with dismay upon the ravages fanaticism
is making upon the dominions of taste and letters. They remember
what has been said by Adam Smith — " Public diversions, and the fine
arts of painting, poetry, and music, have always been objects of dread
to the promoters of popular frenzies, because they tend to dissipate that
gloomy temper which is always the nurse of popular superstition and
enthusiasm." To us, far from opposing, " Divine Philosophy" appears
to sanction, every thing that cheers and refines society. Christianity, of
all religious systems, seems to be that of politeness and good-humour.
" Dull fools/' and such only, suppose it to be " harsh and crabbed." It
teaches us to regulate our tastes, and direct them virtuously ; but neither
by its letter or its spirit does it encourage the docrines of the soi-
disant saints of the present day. An Apostle cited Euripides and
Hesiod ; and the primitive converts to the cross, while they burned the
books of astrology and magic, spared the works of the sculptor, the
painter, and the poet.

A " thousand and one" religious sects are enumerated by Evans, in his
little work entitled " Christian Denominations." Of these there is scarcely
one which does not set apart a certain period of the year for extraordinary
meetings and solemnities. Sacred for social pleasures to the children of
the establishment is Christmas. The Catholics after their meagre Lents
rejoice rather at Easter. The broad-brimmed and sober-suited followers
of Penn make merry in May. Midsummer is said to be the jubilee of the
Jumpers, when they are most active in the exercise of their devotion, and
enliven the dull streets of Carnarvon with their holy harlequinade. An
analogous usage prevails amongst the Dublin Saints; they have an
annual gathering on the first of April (absit omen verbo}^ and they fre-
quently carry their pious festivities far into the month. Then is the
season to observe them : then they are in their glory. All the lights of
the gospel are kindled, and shine with more than wonted lustre. The
Rotunda, an immense building — always at the service of the highest
bidder, sinner or saint, for a mission or a masquerade — is secured at a

1831.] Dublin Saints. 307

vast expence, and rescued for at least a fortnight from " the pomps and
vanities of this wicked world." Tract societies, Jew societies, Bible
societies, Missionary societies, Sunday-school societies, Reformation
societies, Episcopal floating-chapel societies hold their anniversary meet-
ings in continual succession. Every day " the great room" is crowded
to overflowing. The assemblage may be simply divided into the sub-
lime and the beautiful : the former consisting of the orators — and, exalted
on a platform, the latter of the audience — composed almost entirely of
the fair sex, and occupying the whole body of the building. Business
generally commences with the reading of a report, in length and perspi-
cuity to be compared to nothing but one of Cromwell's speeches ; and
although it is irregular to weep or exclaim until the eloquence begins,
instances have occurred, of ladies who have lost command over their sen-
sibilities in the first stage of the proceedings. After the lapse of one,
or sometimes two hours, the report is finished ; and Dr. Singer, Devon-
shire Jackson, the minister of Monastereven, or sweeter still, the man
from Madagascar or Greenland, rises amidst the waving of a thousand
handkerchiefs, and every species of enthusiastic encouragement a female
auditory can give. He begins ; the odour of sanctity fills the entire
edifice. He proceeds ; his oratory seems unearthly ; his unction is
declared miraculous. At length a fit of ungovernable transport seizes
the fair assemblage, and you would not be astonished if the Beautiful
were to rush in a body to the platform, and smother the Sublime in their
rapturous embraces. He arrives, however, in safety at the peroration,
and concludes an harangue of three long hours with a clap of rhetoric
that shakes Rutland-square to its foundations, and sometimes occasions a
fright, or a fainting-fit, in the adjoining hospital.

Such is an attempt at a generic description of a Rotunda meeting ;
but perhaps we may be allowed to particularize one or two species, in
order to throw some light on their objects and utility. We select the
Tract and Missionary Societies as specimens of the rest. The former
generally leads the way, and, indeed, it appears to merit its patent of
precedency. As the sower scatters the seed, so does this prodigal
institution shed its benefits over the earth. Light and volatile as the
thistledown, the tract is, of all the devices of the religious world, the
most effective in the propagation of the word. The Atlantic or Andes
are no impediments to its progress ; it spreads its wings, and flies with
ease over the widest seas and loftiest mountains ; " Ears of Wheat" have
been plucked in Ceylon, and " Crumbs of Comfort" picked up on the
pathless steppes of Tartary. Now for the day of missions ! The second
is usually devoted to that object ; and Missionaries come from every
wind of heaven to report the large expenditure of money, and the small
advancement of the word. But the stories they relate are so charming,
and the scenes they have witnessed so moving, that far from regretting
the sums already contributed, their hearers only regret they did not
subscribe fifty times as much, and resolve, in their fair and beating
bosoms, to be more liberal than ever to these holy and heroic men, who,
if they have saved no souls, have travelled so far to save them, and are
" such truly divine and interesting persons." One has seen the dark
idolatries of Juggernaut ; another has seen the temple of the White
Elephant, whose unwieldy godhead the Burmans have honoured with a
regular church establishment ; another has sauntered on the banks of
Jordan; and plucked the rose of Sharon with his own hunt! ; a fourth

2 R 2

308 Dublin, Saiiifs* [MARCH,

has sat under a plantain, and lectured the natives of Owhyhee on the
seven trumpets in the Apocalypse ; while a fifth has made an ice-berg-
his pulpit, and preached to the Laplanders the length of a polar day
without incurring so much as a chilblain or a cold. Thus they run on,
each in a strain of outlandish eloquence peculiar to himself— the bulk
of their auditory, as we have already seen, are rapt into the third heaven,
and fancy they see before them so many evangelists and prophets — a
few individuals in the throng., less enthusiastic in their temperament,
experience somewhat different emotions, and are sometimes tempted to
insinuate, that the gentlemen on the platform resemble Quixote and
Munchausen, as nearly as Paul and Barnabas.

But far the most important effect of these singular outpourings is the
enormous sum collected at the close of the meeting to send out these
religious knights-errant in quest of new adventures. There are morose
and discontented individuals, who assert that the silver and gold, paid in
each month of April to the men of tracts and missions, and by them
lavished in every corner of the earth, might be laid out with equal piety,
and greater profit, in one little spot called Ireland, where myriads cry
for bread, for raiment, and for knowledge — but there are few or none to
answer ! The same persons are apt to remind us that Ireland was known
by the title of the " Isle of Saints" long before any pious rover, y'clept
a missionary, took the bread of her children and cast it to the dogs.
In those times, they continue, no Irishman wanted bread that a Ota-
heitan might have a Bible, but the necessities of his poor countryman
touched the first chord of the rich man's heart ; but now things are
changed — our charity circumnavigates the globe : in our adventurous
zeal for the true faith we eclipse the fame of the Crusaders j we send
our emissaries to every clime ; our Bibles are exported to China, our
tracts to Timbuctoo ; we pant for the welfare of the Negro, and are
full of concern for the immortal interests of the Jews and Turks ; we
lavish golden gifts upon all the world j but for Ireland, " a cup of cold
water in the name of the Lord/' is the utmost extent of our loving-
kindness. So say the cold calculators we allude to ; but what is the
tendency of such discourse, but to rob the religious world of its chief
felicity and glory ? Is it fair to dwell on the dark side of the picture
only — to expatiate on the defects, and overlook the beauties of the sys-
tem ? Who can be so carnal-minded and senseless as to say, that it is
nothing to have those delightful assemblies at the Rotunda — nothing for
the ladies of Dublin to establish a Sunday-school in Peru — nothing to
send and receive ambassadors to and from the antipodes like mighty
potentates — nothing to hear the sublime and mystic oratory, the heavenly
doctrines, and, above all, the affecting stories of the modern apostles of
the Gentiles ? What would become of our sweet enthusiasts were these
things to cease ? How dull and comfortless would spring arrive, unat-
tended by Rotunda meetings — how insufferable the tea-table without a
Missionary ! Spring might better come without her swallow and
her zephyr — the tea-table might better want gunpowder or souchong.
Novelty, moreover, is of vital consequence to the religious world.
Who so well as the Missionary prevents zeal from waxing cold,
and devotion from sinking into apathy ? The comet of the saintly
system, by his periodical visitations, communicates new light, fervency,
and vigour to the centre round which he moves !

The " finale" of a meeting remains to be described. No sooner is the

1831.] Dublin Saints'. 309

oratory ended, and the collection made, than a contest ensues of the
most interesting kind, the prizes fought for being of no less value than
the persons of those enchanting Missionaries — who shall get possession
of the man from Madagascar — in whose carriage shall the Bible envoy
to the court of Bantam be borne from the field — who shall have the
blessed privilege of entertaining at dinner our evangelical employe at
the Ottoman Porte. Coronets have their weight in the religious as well
as the political world, and your missionary has no objection to a great
house and a large fortune. Well, the carriages draw up, and the fair
and titled victors bear away in triumph the precious rewards of their
surpassing zeal and sanctity. The Sublime and Beautiful, seated to-
gether in the same chariot, yield to the sweet influence of such close
neighbourhood, and take each other captive by their spiritual charms :
but we might as reasonably pretend to reveal the secrets of the Cabinet
as the conversation which passes in a coach : we therefore omit the
drive, and hasten to the dinner. The place of honour for the holy man !
His chair is set next her ladyship. " Dear Mr. Sow-the-seed will pro-
nounce a blessing," is uttered with a tone and look reserved. for Mis-
sionaries alone. He rises to obey : there is a heavenly calm in his aspect,
a melodious earnestness in his voice, a seraphic dignity in his manner
of stretching his arms over the dishes, that strike the whole com-
pany at once, and are hoarded in their memories as carefully as if the
reverend guest were no other than Raphael himself ! Five minutes is
the established length of a benediction in the religious world ; dear
Mr. Sow-the-seed occupies about seven, and then devotes himself in
solemn silence to his dinner with the same zeal, alacrity, and patient
perseverance in well-doing that characterise the other parts of his life
and conversation. Here, at least, his resemblance to the angel is com-
plete. The reader recollects the banquet in Eve's bower, and the part
played by "the sociable spirit" on that occasion.

" So down they sat,
And to their viands fell : nor seemingly
The angel, nor in mist, the common gloss
Of theologians, but with keen dispatch
Of real hunger."

In the evening there is a religious rout. Invitations on such an
occasion are " high privileges ;" and are canvassed for with an activity
scarcely to be paralleled, even in the political world. The Saints
arrive in eager groups ; mothers, daughters, aunts, and nieces, escorted
by a few sons and brothers, with views, it is probable, somewhat less
ethereal than those of their fair relatives. He enters the drawing-room ;
matron and maid crowd round him ; every eye, black, brown, and blue,
devours him ; he looks, and speaks, and moves, as never man moved,
spoke, or looked before; every word and gesture furnishes topic for a
twelve-month's conversation ; every smile is chronicled ; his sayings are
oracles ; if he takes tea, there is something spiritual in the manner
thereof; if he takes snuff, it is not as the world takes it. But she ! the
highly- favoured amongst women ! she, whose humble dwelling-place is
sanctified and illuminated by such a presence, what language fervent
enough to express her gratitude, what language lively enough to des-
cribe the ecstacy of her emotions ! Oh ! Lady ! he that has seen

your eye sparkle, and bosom heave, as the illustrious Joseph Wolff'

310 Dublin Saints. [MARCH,

entertained your sacred circle with the tale of that never-to-be-forgotten
journey he performed, without hat on head, from Jerusalem to Paris ;
he that has witnessed your sweet tumults, when Caesar Malan, the comely
apostle of Geneva, related, with his characteristic and affecting simpli-
city, the conversion of the Popish pilgrim of Ghent, with all the inte-
resting circumstances that attended it ;* cold must he be, and cruel,
would he dry up the source of those holy raptures, which seem almost
to divest your womanhood of its mortality ; and confine to the shores
of your native isle — albeit a fainting land and a famished people — the
tender mercies of your nature, for which the terraqueous globe is too
narrow a range.

But the visits of the Wolffs and Malans, like those of angels, are
" few and far between ;" or, to use our former simile, they resemble
the appearances of comets in the comparative irregularity and unfre-
quency of their occurrence. The religious world, therefore, would be
doomed to many a dark and dreary hour, if there were no diurnal and
stationary lights to irradiate and cheer it, while the greater fires are
blazing in the aphelions of their orbits, at Jerusalem, for example, or
Geneva. Hence arises the demand for a household ministry. Hence it is
that Lady — — has her Gregg, and her Hare, and (when the parochial
cares of Monastereven indulge its minister with a month in Dublin)
her revered A , the giant of the Home Mission, whose physi-
ognomy is the secret of his unparalleled success amongst the Saints. t
Hence the occupation of the Otways, and Singers, Orpens and Colles's,
the ignes minor es of the evangelical firmament, who make up for their
inferior lustre by their continual and indefatigable twinkling. Each
has his own department, and shines in a distinct sphere ; Otway in the
" Christian Examiner ;" Singer at the Asylum ; Orpen in the tract-
shop ; Colles — not he of Stephen's Green but he of York-street — in the
Episcopal Floating Chapel. But there are doers of all work in the
religious world as every where else ; you will see some individuals in
the morning flying about collecting subscriptions to send out a mission
to the North Pole ; at noon with their pockets stuffed with tracts, and
salting withal every street, lane, and alley of the metropolis ; in the
evening composing perhaps a new bundle of the said productions ; and

* The facts are these. In the autumn of 1827, a native of Ghent arrived at
Geneva, on his way to Rome. He had bound himself by a vow to make the whole
journey on foot, suffering his beard to grow, and bearing on his shoulders a huge
wooden cross. Malan met and converted him — so far well — the sequel can scarcely
be told with gravity. Malan took his proselyte into his garden, shaved him with
his own hands, and then baptised him into his own sect — the " Momiers." The
man of Ghent was grateful, and he presented the divine barber with both beard
and cross. The former, tied together with a riband, was appended to the latter ;
And there was a saintly soiree at Pre, Beni, to exhibit the trophy to the religious
world at Geneva. Malan entered, bearing it in triumph. The sensation he pro-
duced may be imagined. The writer was present at the scene.

f This gentleman, you suppose, is an Adonis -rpuite the reverse— the lines of
his countenance abberrate from those of beauty as far as his doctrines from common
sense. Yet, true it is, that it is his person, not his preaching, that exerts the
attraction. How is this to be explained ? Thus: — A is not plain, nor ordi-
nary ; either would have left him in obscurity ; but ugly, strikingly, sublimely
ugly — such a frontispiece had never been prefixed to any former edition of
humanity. There was no precedent for a single feature of his face. The Saints
were struck, captivated, ravished. Novelty ! even the religious world is not
proof against your charms !

1831.] Dublin Sainls. 311

at night raving about the Millenium, Antichrist, and the plains of Ar-
mageddon. Many a fair lady, too, thinks she is fearfully in arrear with
Heaven, if she lays her cheek on her pillow, without teaching at three
infant schools, traversing the diameter of Dublin twice on the business

of the City Mission, assisting at the prayer-meeting at Lady 's,

hearing a lecture of two hours from one of the domestic divines of that
consecrated mansion, officiating at a bazaar, reading the last number of
the " Evangelical Magazine," and so many other pious offices and un-
dertakings, that but for the words et cetera, we should never conclude
the sentence. The same comprehensive • expression must serve to help
our article to a close. A thousand other notabilia of the religious world
in Dublin must be recorded in an et cetera, for we want leisure to pre-
sent them to the reader in a more expanded form. Besides, the space
that is yet left us must be employed in anticipating criticism. We trust,
in the foregoing remarks, we have not lost sight of the boundaries be-
tween Fanaticism and Religion ; and that none of the shafts — we aim
only at enthusiasts and mountebanks — have fallen even by reflection on
the rational professors and unostentatious practisers of the Gospel. If
any thing has been said, that can be construed without violence into a
slight upon Christianity, the error has been unintentional. Our wish
has been to expose the conduct of those, whose wild fancies, and extra-
vagant projects, have done much to prejudice the cause of real piety —
whose religion is merely fashion — and their sanctity nothing, but a cloak
under which they cater for the gratification of a busy humour and over-
weening vanity. We think a system deserves to be exposed, which
annually exports vast sums of money out of a country so impoverished
as Ireland, to supply the Chinese and South Sea islanders with tracts
and Bibles, as if the first principles of cur religion did not direct us to
make the physical and moral wants of our own people the first objects
of our solicitude. As long as ignorance and hunger — the famine of
mind and body — disgrace and devastate our own villages and fields, so
long will our charity be more Christian in proportion as its character is
more domestic — so long at least may we venture, without incurring too
heavy a responsibility, to trust the Greenlander and Otaheitan to Him
" who feedeth the young ravens when they cry unto Him/' As to the
style and tone of our observations, which may be thought sometimes too
light for a subject of so much importance as even the abuses of religion,
we think it sufficient to repeat a question that was put long ago — (f Quid
vetat ridcntem dicere verum ?"

DRAMATIC COPYRIGHT THEATRICAL AFFATRS, AT HOME

AND ABROAD.

To understand France is quite out of the question in this country.
We hear of the most unbridled republicanism; the most unshackled
press, and so forth : yet scarcely a day passes without arrests, of which
no one must inquire the motive ; and the liberty of the press is signa-
lized by prosecutions once a week. But of all liberties, the liberty of
the theatre was the dearest to a Frenchman, and accordingly, by the
national rule of contraries, a code has been established within the fort-
night for the theatre in France, that would be no discredit to the legisla-
tion of Turkey. We have our licencer, it is true, and he exercises a

31iJ Dramatic Copyright— [MARCH,

merciless jurisdiction over epithets and interjections, breaks in fatally
upon the lover's privilege of calling his mistress an Angel, and will
suffer neither man nor maid to pronounce the word Heaven, but in their
prayers. But the censorship of George Colman is milk of roses to the
oil of vitriol showered on the Muse's wing, by the French ministry.
To come to the evidence: —

" Title I. — Upon Representations.

" Art 1. The managers will be allowed to represent all kinds of plays, upon
condition of their being authorized, by the authors of those legally interested,
according to the laws upon literary ownership.

" 2. The directors shall be required to leave a copy of every theatrical work
in the office of the proper authorities, fifteen days before the performance.

" 3. The said copy shall set forth the name of the piece, the name of the
author, that of the theatre, and the whole of the play.

" 5. The same formalities will be required with respect to every piece discon-
tinued for more than a year.

" 6. The non-compliance with these regulations will be punishable by a fine
of from 500 to 2,000 franks. All matters in dispute to be referred to the Tri-
bunals."

By this regulation the minister for the time being, has the fate of
every play in his hands ; and we must recollect that the minister may
have been a personal enemy of the author, before he was a minister ; or
may conceive a dislike to him after ; or may imagine him the writer of
some uncomplimentary epigram upon him ; or may be a noodle, and take
imaginary offence ; or may be a tyrant and love to display his power.
In all these cases the author might better throw his play behind the fire
at once. We perceive also that anonymous play- writing is made illegal.
But in England at least three-fourths of all the dramas offered are
anonymous ; what becomes of the modesty of authorship, its fear of
rejection, or its natural fear of summoning whatever personal enemies the
author may have, to the public extinction of his play ? In France the
name must be given, coute qu'il coiite, or the author, who may not be
worth sixpence, must look to owing to his sovereign lord the king his
two thousand francs.

But the next regulation puzzles us still more : — •

" Title II.— Upon the Instigation to Crime.

" Whoever shall have, by the means of theatrical representations, excited
an author, or authors, to write what may be an offence, or a crime, shall be
considered an accomplice, and punished as such ; and if the instigation to
commit an offence of this nature has not been acted upon, the instigator shall
be punished by the imprisonment of from three months to five years, and by a
fine of WO francs to 6,000 francs.

" Every attack upon the sacredness of the King's person, the royal dignity,
the order of succession to the throne, the rights which the King holds by the
wishes of the French nation and the constitutional charter, his constituted
authority, the rights and authority of the chambers, shall be considered as insti-
gations to crime.

" Instigating to a breach of the laws shall be punished by a fine of from
50 to 4,000 francs, or imprisonment from fifteen days to three years."

This is a sweeping clause with a vengeance. The instigator to write
whatever may be considered an offence or a crime I (as general a defini-
tion as we remember to have heard since the days when men's heads
were cut off for " being suspected of being suspicious/') is to be con-
sidered an accomplice ; even though the dramatist may have laughed at
the instigation ; or it may have been made over a bottle, -when both were

1831.] Theatrical Affairs, at Home and Abroad. 313

getting drunk ; or under the table, when both had accomplished that
object. But the oddity does not stop here. The actual commission of
the offence on the stage is to be punished with less rigour than the insti-
gation, though nothing should have come of it. The instigator who
succeeds in putting his attack into shape, is to be punished at the rate of
4,000 francs, and three years imprisonment ; the instigator who can per-
suade no one to move a pen is to be punished (for his failure, we pre-
sume), at the rate of Jive years and 6,000 francs. All very curious, but
we must recollect that it is in France.

The next law strikes at the whole system of the drama: —

" Title III.— Upon Outrages and Offences.

" Every outrage against good morals, against the person of the King, to be
punished by an imprisonment of from six months to five years. Against members
of the royal family, against the Chambers, or one of them, or against the
persons of sovereigns, or the chiefs of foreign governments, to be punished by
various terms of imprisonment, from six months to three years, arid fines from
50 to 1,000 francs.

" Every attempt to personify upon the stage any living individual, whether
he be named or hinted at in such a manner that every one may know the
original,~will be considered a crime, and punishable by imprisonment of the
director of the theatre, and the author of the piece, of from one month to two
years, and a fine of from 500 to 5,000 francs.

" Personifying any deceased individual, whether by mentioning his name,
or designating him so that every one may know who is meant, when twenty-
five years have not elapsed from the time of his death, is also considered an
offence, unless with the formal consent, in writing, of the Minister of the Inte-
rior, and the nearest relations of the person to be represented on the stage.

" This offence will be punished by imprisonment of from fifteen days to a
year, and a fine of from 300 to 3,000 francs.

" The penal proceeding will preclude any action for defamation."

Here is a catalogue of offences in which a lawyer of three months' stand-
ing would entangle every dramatist that ever wrote. Outrages against
morals, the king's person, £c., may mean any thing the minister pleases.
As to the living personification, are we to have no Beau Brummels, no
dandy guardsmen, no lancer exquisites, on the boards ? of course the
offensive caricature of living characters must be avoided in any well-
regulated system, but the minister fights even for the dead : and no hint
must be given of any one removed from this troublesome and silly world
within the last quarter of a century. However there is one little hope :
the author may commence a correspondence, while he is making his
verses, with the minister on the subject; or he may argue with the rela-
tions the propriety of bringing the patriot in purgatory, on the stage.
In short he may buy the dead man's character, as the surgeons buy his
body, and both for the same purpose, dissection.

" Title IV.

<e Prescribes the mode of proceeding against the managers for the fines given
by preceding titles. The following is important : —

" ' An author shall not be responsible, and cannot be prosecuted, except at
the place where his piece has been represented for the first time. In every
other place, the responsibility shall fall upon the managers of the theatres.' "

By this regulation the law may grasp every manager in France, con-
sisting of about three hundred, for so many are the theatres. Yet the
grasp may be more comprehensive still, for every one of those theatres
may have, and generally has, half-a-dozen people sharing the pro-

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 63. 2 S

314 Dramatic Copyright — [MARCH,

prietorship or management. Besides, how is a country manager six hun-
dred miles off, to be aware of the guilt of the dramatist in Paris, while
the case is pending? He receives a popular piece from the capital, plays
it, and is deep in the twelfth night, before he can receive the formidable
announcement that the minister is displeased with the performance, that
he thinks it alludes to himself, or to somebody not dead twenty-five years,
including Napoleon, for whose especial sake, we take it for granted this
absurd date was fixed; and is unconsciously a debtor to the state of some
thousands of francs, and as many years as may please that most upright
of all tribunals, the French police. If this be liberty, we say, long live
King William, and down with the march of " wooden shoes!"

The late " inquest" on the patent theatres brought up some odd
memoranda of theatrical affairs. Among the rest, Lord Brougham
having inquired of Mr. Harrison, what good plays had been produced
at either of the winter theatres since the year 1804, Mr. Harrison,
after consulting several authorities, living and dead, stated the following
as specimens : —

" John Bull, a very popular play," said Mr. Harrison, " has been
produced, and repeatedly acted since that period. A list had been
handed to him," he added, " which enabled him to mention several
others : Speed the Plough, by Morton — A Cure for the Heart-ache, by
ditto — The Poor Gentleman— The W lied of Fortune — The Iron Chest,
by Colman — Brutus, by Mr. Howard Payne — Firginius, by Mr.
Knowles, and Bertram, by Mr. Maturin." These three last being of a
somewhat different class from the others, and not very favourable speci-
mens of literature, or any thing else, might have been left out of sight,
as it is evident they are out of the mind; but of the six stock plays which
Mr. Harrison cited as having been produced since 1804, every one of
them was acted prior to that period. John Bull came out in 1803, and
was the last produced of the list quoted by Mr. Harrison, and received
by the court ; and the Wheel of Fortune, by the way, is given to the
wrong author.

The paucity of plays of any value produced within the present cen-
tury is surprising, and Mr. Harrison's list, meagre as it is, comprehends
nearly the whole. But there must be some reason for this, as there is
for every thing. The general mind of England was never more vivid
than within the last thirty years, and especially in works next akin to
the drama. A new sera of poetry had appeared, infinitely more fur-
nished with the spirit of the drama, than any since the days of Shak-
speare ; full of passion, individual character, and picturesque thought ;
full of romantic adventure, and the wild and rich conceptions of the very
lands and times from which the Elizabethan age, and the finest periods
of European fancy drew their noblest inspiration. The poetry of Pope and
Dryden had gone by, or triumphed only in the memories of those old
gentlemen, who exhibited a similar veneration for the square skirts, per-
riwigs, and hair-powder of their ancestral coxcombs ; and who gave up
the world as undone, when men began to lay aside cocked-hats and long
queues. The poetry of their day was modelled on the French, and was
cold, dry and didactic: correctness was the grand merit, and the
standards of perfection were the neatness of Boileau, and the point of
Voltaire,

The drama of the last century was, of necessity, miserable. Yet the
present age lias produced scarcely anything in the higher walk of the

1831.] Theatrical Affairs, at Home and Abroad. 315

theatre that deserved to live an hour. We have no tragedy worth the
paper that it was written on. The cause must be looked for in the
want of encouragement. While all the other labours of invention are
supported by the publishers, a class of men who, whatever may be their
habits, know the value of their matters of trade, and are, consequently,
liberal where genius and diligence are to be found: the drama is in
the hands of managers — men often plunged in the distresses of thea-
trical affairs ; often influenced, of course, by motives that have nothing
to do with the merits of the work before them ; and often too anxiously
busy with theatrical details to have time for the interests of authorship.
But the law is the severest drawback upon dramatic writing. By the
present negligence of legislation on this point, an author, immediately
on publication, loses all power of preventing any theatre from taking
his work, playing it, mutilating it, adding to it, disfiguring it in any
way that caprice, ignorance, or bad taste may choose. And all this is to
be suffered without any remuneration. Or if the author should dispose of
his work to any peculiar theatre, every other theatre in the kingdom
may deal with it from that moment as it likes. While this state of
things continues, it is difficult to conceive that any man capable of
writing a good tragedy will subject himself to such inconvenience, and
actual loss j while he can take the smoother way of throwing his thoughts
into the shape of romance, of which the emolument is certain, and the
reception liable to comparatively little doubt.

The only chance of giving England a revived dramatic glory, is in
the revisal of the laws of the press. The principle of the revisal should
be — That no theatre shall, in the first instance, be at liberty to play any
drama, whether published or unpublished, without having made an
arrangement with the author, or his representatives. — That after its
performance by one theatre, no other shall be entitled to adopt it, with-
out entering, in like manner, into an arrangement with the author. —
And that the author's right in his dramatic works shall last during his
life, and shall be continued to his representatives during at least the
time allowed for copyright in the case of other publications.

We should be glad to see the Lord Chancellor, than whom no man
knows better the state and embarrassments of literary property, apply-
ing his attention to the subject. A very signal benefit would be con-
ferred on literature, by w\at would be., after all, but an act of common
justice. The discussion about patent rights, now before Chancery,
might fairly make the initiative of such a measure ; and there can be
no doubt, that if a national stage be of any kind of importance to the
amelioration of a national mind, which every man of common sense
must know that it is, which it was always held to be in the most refined
nations of antiquity, and which makes a large portion of the finest lite-
rature of Europe, as it takes the highest rank, and makes the most
justly boasted literature of France ; the means of substituting vigorous
performances for vapidity, English feelings for foreign sentiment, and
the racy and powerful productiveness of English genius for meagre
imitations and bad morality, must be of importance ; and the reforma-
tion of the English drama by this infusion of a new spirit into it is
worthy of the ambition of a legislator. It is remarkable that, even
in St. Petersburg!!, regulations similar to those which we have pro-
posed, have been adopted a few years since for the express purpose of
founding a national drama.

2 S 2

316 Dramatic Copyright —

In Brussels, within the month, the provisional government have fol-
lowed the example, and have established the following ordinances, which
would make a good groundwork for our own legislation : —

" Art. 1. That any person may estahlish a public theatre, and cause pieces
of every kind to he performed there, hy previously making a declaration of
such intention to the municipal authorities of the place.

" 2. That the representation of a piece cannot be interdicted, the responsi-
bility of the authors and actors, however, being at the same time fully recog-
nized.

" 3. That the existing police regulations in this regard be revised without
delay ; but that, till then, they shall be executed provisionally, in so far as
they are not contrary to the present decree.

" 4. That every dramatic composition of an author, whether Belgian or
foreigner, represented for the first time in any theatre of Belgium, cannot be
represented in any public theatre within the extent of the Belgic territory,
without the formal and written consent of the author, under pain of confiscation
to his profit of the total product of such representations.

" 5. That the heirs in direct line, descendants of the author, and, in default
of these, his surviving widow, shall succeed to the property of his dramatic
works, and enjoy the rights and advantages derived therefrom, during the
space of ten years after the decease of the author."

We have certain knowledge, that if regulations in this spirit, giving
the author and his family a property in his labours, were to become law
in England, there are individuals ready to turn to dramatic literature
powers which they have hitherto been restrained from employing in
this pursuit, merely from the utter insecurity of their property in their
works. We may also ask, why do none of our literary societies, nume-
rous and idle as they are, apply themselves to the encouragement of the
drama ? Why are no prizes offered for the most successful tragedy or
comedy? Why have we Lord Chamberlains, and a crowd of func-
tionaries, under whose patronage literature naturally should find some
support, yet suffering decay to fall upon its very finest species, that of
all others which propagates the genius of a country abroad, and makes
it immortal at home ? Why have we dukes and princes forming
themselves into clubs and corporations for all sorts of things, yet no
Shakspeare Society ; no combination of rank, talent, and wealth, for the
encouragement and improvement of the drama of England ? We have
no doubt that the feeling of its necessity is so strong, that such a society
could be formed within a week. It requires only some man of public
name and public activity to begin it ; and we should see it popular, and
established without delay.

It has been stated as an evidence of the absurdity of monopoly in
theatrical matters, that in Paris, in 1793, when every man who chose,
might open a theatre without consulting patents or personal rights ; all
the theatres, twenty-eight in number, were not merely kept alive, but
were in remarkable prosperity. But on the accession of Napoleon to
the crown, a new arrangement was adopted, the theatres were put under
government regulations, and from that time they began to totter. The
government advanced large sums to each of the principal theatres, and
they only tottered the more ; it at length settled a fixed sum to be
annually paid from the treasury for their support, and after a few years
of this experiment, almost the whole of them were bankrupts.

This tells badly for the monopolists. Yet we should seriously regret
to see the spirit of vulgar speculation suffered to run riot in those mat-

1831.] Theatrical Affairs, at Home and Abroad.

ters, and every vulgar and mercenary fellow who could lead a few
dupes into the folly of supplying him with the means of building some
miserable theatre, allowed to take his way in corrupting whatever
remained of decency and principle among the people. There can be no
doubt that in the rage for making returns out of those speculations, every
vile mode of catering to the popular appetite would be adopted, and that
we should have only corruption worse corrupted in every quarter of the
town. It is quite clear that the theatres already established on this
principle have disappointed all the fine theories, of giving encourage-
ment to genius, reviving the drama, producing a race of new actors,
and so forth ; for since their being suffered, there never was such a total
decay of the whole theatrical art : no new play worth a straw has been
produced, no valuable actor has appeared on their boards, and the gene-
ral tone of theatres has been lowered. French translations we have in
abundance, but as those are not likely to add much to the honours of
English genius, we cannot persuade ourselves to think it worth our
while to break down the London winter theatres, for the benefit of M.
Scribe, and his junta of farcemakers.

In this dearth, or rather absolute decay of English composition, what
have been the dramatic treats of the month ?

At Covent Garden, The Romance of a Day, from the French, with
some pretty music adapted by Bishop, has been performed with consi-
derable success. The story is a repetition of the little Swiss piece of
Ketley, or the Return to Switzerland, frequently performed last season at
the French theatre. A French colonel who had been wounded, and
remained at an inn in Switzerland until his wounds were healed, hap-
pened to have unconsciously attracted the regards of a young peasant
who had occasionally brought him fruit and milk, from the cottage of
her father, a retired soldier. In four years the colonel returned, on a
visit to the lord of the manor; the pretty peasant had treasured his
recollection in the mean time, and being now eighteen, had matured it
into love. The colonel's memory of the attractive child is now changed
into his passion for the beautiful woman. But conceiving that her heart
is set on a peasant of the village, he promises her a dower. Liese (Miss
E. Tree) is overwhelmed at the idea ; and by her confusion when on the
point of being betrothed, betrays her love for the colonel. The parties
are, of course, made happy. Miss Tree plays her character very grace-
fully, as she does every thing. Keeley, the rejected lover, burlesques
tragedy in his best style ; and Abbott, the colonel, sustains the bewil-
dered lover with intelligence and skilL The under plot is trifling, a
contrivance by the baron's uncle, an old general, to make him marry
his pretty niece, disguised as a peasant; which is accomplished, and the
Romance of a Day ends with applause.

This piece contains some tolerable selections by Bishop. But a very
effective national glee is sung by a groupe dressed as Styrian peasants.
All those melodies seem to be constructed on the lowing of cows ; they
are barbarous in the conception, and yet by the skilful adaptation of the
harmonies, and the complete practice of the singers, they are always
effective when sung by those rambling minstrels. At the same time we
deprecate their being attempted by English young ladies, however fond
of displaying their foreign acquirements. A cow melody in their lips
is altogether abominable.

318 Dramatic Copyright, c$-c. [MARCH,

But a livelier exhibition has been Married Lovers, a translation from
the French, by Power, with an Irish colonel inserted for his own
behoof. The scene lies in Paris., at the period of the regency of the
Duke of Orleans, of profligate memory. There are three wives, women
of rank, attended by their admirers, the husbands of the three, each
paying his devoirs to his neighbour's wife. The ladies communicate
their secrets to each other, and resolve to punish them all alike for their
infidelity. The husbands are directed to be at the postern of a hotel at
twelve. They are admitted one by one, and as they enter are forced
into the same dark apartment, where after a while, their fair expectation
is that their throats are about to be cut. They jostle each other in the
dark, and in the moment when they are expecting to be assassinated,
the doors are thrown open, their three wives appear with attendants, the
hall is lighted up, and the truant husbands acknowledge their errors.
This is one of the liveliest performances that we have lately seen.
Power's Irish colonel, though constructed on the model of vulgarity
which has so long answered for the dramatic Irishman, yet contains a
good deal of the quaint humour of the actor's style, and is of considerable
value to the piece. The old French marquis is a failure, though Bartley
plays it well. But the English husband is much worse ; he is repre-
sented as a mere wittol, a grave booby ; and, as we suppose Warde
could do nothing else with it, he plays it in the complete spirit of the
author. If the piece had not been a translation, the Englishman would
have exhibited a character more likely to do credit to his country. But
the most striking character in the play is performed by Miss Taylor,
who but for rather too much grimace in her features, and a great
deal too much gesticulation in her figure, is a very promising actress.
Her appearance as a page, with a more than usual display of leg, com-
pleted the public captivation ; she has very delicate limbs, and the pit
applauds them with remarkable assiduity. She sings two songs, both
very spiritedly, and both with repeated encores. The whole perfor-
mance, though touching on the extreme limit of theatrical allowance, is
clever, and is likely to be popular.

NOTES OF THE MONTH ON AFFAIRS IN GENERAL.

We have glanced over the number of the Quarterly Review, which
has just trodden on the heels of its predecessor to rouse the country
to a sense of what the Whigs are doing in the matter of Reform. It
has added nothing to our convictions on any point. With the writer
of the article on Reform, we fully agree, that Whigs are awkward
experimentalists on a British Constitution ; and we equally agree with
him, in the opinion that the freedom of England will not depend on
the giving of representatives to Manchester, nor to any one, or one
dozen of towns, however populous they may be. (We find the Reviewer
after all, sliding into this concession to the " unrepresented.") But
this we say, that though a change in merely the number or place of the
towns that are to return members to parliament may be not worth a
straw, and though a demagogue parliament would be a curse ; still
such a parliament as the last was an offence in the nostrils of honest men.
Was not the last parliament successively the humble and eager tool and
dependent of three successive ministries, as opposite to each other as

1831.] Notes of the Month on A fairs in General 319

light and shade ? and would it not have been the same dependent and
tool of forty ? And is it by such a legislature that a great country was
to be governed with any hope of safety, that freedom was to be sustained
in its necessary purity, or that the favour of Providence, despised and
forgotten name ! was to be brought down upon a people ?

We admit all the advantages that may be connected with the old
system. Rottenness itself has some conveniences. Men of talent might
have got into the house, who could not have got in without the rotten
boroughs. But we say that the first great qualification in a legislature, is
not orators, but honesty ! Who can touch pitch and not be defiled ? What
fruits has Corruption ever borne, but corrupt ones? Or who can doubt that
the man who in the teeth of the law thinks of makingno scruple in purchas-
ing a seat, will make no scruple of going as much further as interest,
avarice, or baseness may tempt him ? Can we have grapes of thorns,
or figs of thistles ? It ought to be enough, and it is enough, for men
of common sense to know, that dishonesty exists in the principles of
any transaction, to know that its consequences must be evil. A thou-
sand specious advantages from public vice, are not worth one single
result from public virtue ! This is the Reform which the true national
voice demands ; purity I Changes in members or location may be
trifles. It is not the " Three Days in Paris " that have roused the
national demand; though those three days were the direct con-
sequence of an act of the most punishable and unqualified falsehood
and treachery that ever disgraced the name of King, or can disgrace
the advocates of his foolish and tyrannical cause. The national
demand has arisen from disgust ; not from a desire that radicalism and
riot shall fill the legislature, but that the legislature shall be enabled
to fulfil the objects of its mission, — not that the temple, which it still
venerates, should be overthrown, but that the money-changers should
be driven from the temple.

Nothing can be more extraordinary than the continuance of our settle-
ment at Sierra Leone. For the last dozen years, all its promises of civil-
izing Africa, softening the rugged nature of his majesty of the Mandin-
goes, and pouring the ivory and gold dust of the Emperor of the Moun-
tains of the Moon into the British Exchequer, have been given up. The
mortality has been horrid, and as if for the purpose of quickening our
movements, has increased year by year. The John Bull gives the follow-
ing list of " casualties," as the latest produce of the settlement : —

" The Primrose, of 18 guns, commander W. Broughton, has arrived at
Plymouth. Invalids: the Kev. Mr. Becher, Chaplain of the Dryad; Mr. An-
derson, Clerk of the Plumper ; and six other expiring victims, and eight sick
soldiers from the African corps. Mr. Filmore, the acting Master, was not
expected to survive ; and the ship had thirty-eight men in hospital. In short, as
this horrible return says, ' the season, on the whole, had proved favourable !'
— Because, besides Mr. Filmore, and twenty-two sailors, from the Plumper,
Mr. Stuart, the Assistant-Surgeon, and Mr. Hopkins, the Clerk, nobody
particular had died— except, indeed, Lieutenant Forsyth, of the African
corps ; and Mrs. Salter, the wife of the Agent Victualler ! — and, upon the
whole, the season had been favourable. Twenty-two sailors died out of one
ship — thirty -eight, from another, were dying — fifteen poor wretches sent home
— a surgeon, and a clerk, a lieutenant of the army, and the lady of an agent
victualler — all, since the last accounts, in their graves !•— and this, upon the
whole, is a favourable season !"

320 Notes of the Month on [MARCH,

The old French government were said to keep some of their smaller
West India Islands for the express purpose of getting rid of importu-
nate claimants. And they undoubtedly had the art of rapidly satiating
the candidates for promotion. A quick succession were provided for,
and the minister's hands were effectually relieved for the time. We cer-
tainly have no idea of imputing this politic barbarism to an English
government. But while men are mad for money-making, or ravenous
after place, we shall have candidates for every thing, though the first
thing that they met in Sierra Leone, or elsewhere, was their coffin. The
number of persons who have died in office in this dreadful colony,
within the last ten years, is astonishing ; and the public have a right to
call upon government to refuse its aid to this suicide. Many of the
individuals who have perished there, were men of talent and education,
which might have benefited society at home, and which even as a matter
of traffic in the ways of the world, might have been the means of
eminence and fortune ; but sent precipitately to that miserable place,
they were flung into the charnel.

The age of diplomacy has succeeded to the age of war, and the
cabinet has its heroes as well as the field. Metternich's name is already
distinguished for dexterity in council, but he is now about making an
experiment in which the chances are formidably against him. The
German papers say, he is going to marry the Countess Melaina Zichy,
daughter of a Count Zichy Ferara, who is young enough to be his
grand-daughter. This well-known statesman is nearing the vener-
able age of sixty. We presume it must be his attachment to the " Holy
Alliance" that induces him, at such an age, to marry. It has often been
found less difficult to govern an empire than a wife. The prince lately
requested his conge from the emperor's service, and the request set all the
cabinets of Europe in a fever of inquiry. That any individual in pos-
session of so good a thing as the purse of the imperial treasury should
give it up in any case short of death, was pronounced to be an impossi-
bility. But the secret is now out. Some time since an English member
of parliament applied for leave of absence, on the ground of very par-
ticular business, which required all his attention. A member, in obser-
vation, desired to know whether he was not going to some of the dis-
turbed districts ? He was answered by the absentee's friend ; " that it
was pretty much the same — he was going to be married !'' The
prince's conge is now accounted for.

The code of national honour differs curiously according to longitude
and latitude. In England smuggling is a crime, which costs some
millions a year, in revenue officers, revenue cruisers, and preventive
service, and in the teeth of the three, smuggling goes on as briskly as
ever. The communication with foreigners however is so far from an
offence, that all our rising generation of men, are furnishing themselves
with cigars, chin-tufts, and gibberish from foreigners, and are succeeding
wonderfully in looking like monkeys ; and our ladies see so much grace
in a lip covered with moustache and rappee, that every word muttered
by a varlet goes to the heart, keen as the keenest arrow of Cupid, and
the fair one, if she have money enough, becomes the happy spouse of
Monsieur Le Comte Coquin, without delay. But in China the senti-

1831.] Affairs in General 321

ment takes another turn, as may be seen by the following proclamation,
glowing from Pekm: —

" Proclamation. — The Emperor of the Universe has issued the following
notice to his subjects : — ' Smuggling is a trifling affair ; but having a commu-
nication with foreigners is a thing which involves vast interests. It is indis-
pensably necessary to strain every nerve to eradicate the first risings of base-
ness or mischief. — Respect this!' "

The east is alive again, the Hindoos are up in arms, that is, in a wordy
war against any encroachments on their ancient privileges of widow-
burning and infanticide. " They have got up a petition to the English
parliament, and have forwarded it by one Bathie, a lawyer. We think
it very hard indeed that they should be debarred an indulgence in such
amusing propensities ; we should like to know, however, which of ' the
honourable members' will support the prayer of the petition/' To this
we answer, that Captain Swing, if he should be returned for the Borough
of Westbury, or some similar place of free election, would be the proper
.man. His credentials furnished by the results of the special commission
are irresistible. Two hundred and fourteen had judgment of death
recorded against them ; seven were sentenced to transportation for life ;
twenty-five for fourteen years ; two hundred and forty-six for seven
years; and three hundred and fifty-seven from five years to three
months imprisonment. In all eight hundred and forty-nine. This is
however only so far as relates to his employes. The return of the quan-
tity of barns, hay-stacks and farm-yards burned, would entitle him to
the high priesthood of the College of Brama.

Lord Rivers's unfortunate death still remains a subject of inquiry ;
and there certainly has been no sufficient evidence to decide whether it
were voluntary, accidental, or by violence. The verdict of the jury
settles nothing, and it is in fact, oddly enough, much more a verdict on
the Hanger, or whoever had the care of the necks of his majesty's sub-
jects travelling the parks, than on Lord Rivers, viz : — " Found drowned
near the public path at the head of the Serpentine River, considered
very dangerous for want of a rail or fence, where many persons have
lately fallen in/' We see by the papers that some good however will
result from this unhappy circumstance, as the present ranger, "the Duke
of Sussex, is said to have ordered that a railing shall be put up. The
evil, to be sure, had been pointed out to the authorities for these twenty
years, and many a nameless wretch had been " found drowned/' Yet
no railing was put up. On the contrary, as an improvement lately,
the water was deepened, the path levelled more completely, so as to
remove whatever trifling obstruction might once have existed to any
one's going in head overheels, in the first fog ; and the depth and decli-
vity of the Serpentine were so much increased, that nothing but a
miracle could save the faller in from being drowned. Protestations of
all kinds were raised, but nothing was done, and the public might have
seen the nuisance left in the same state for twenty years more, but for
the calamity which has forced attention to the subject. The Humane
Society's men stated before the inquest that nine or ten persons had
been rescued by them from drowning in that spot, in the last few days
of fog. However, the first step to remedy is a good. But another step
is equally obvious. There passes no winter in England in which some
M.M. New Series. VOL. XI.— No. 63. 2 T

322 Notes of the Month on [MARCH,

dozen of foolish people are not plunged under the ice, in the Serpentine,
and the ponds in the St. James's and Green Parks. They are fools, and
the world would probably not be much the better for their remaining in
it. But the love of sliding, or skating, is a natural propensity of all
beings who have not attained the growth of their understanding, or
who are never destined to attain any growth of it ; and boys and boobies
will crowd the ice, in spite of all the bayonets of the guards, which have
actually been employed in some instances, and failed to drive off those
zealous amateurs of submersion. But, as it is the business of rangers of
. parks and ponds, to take care that they shall not be accessary to the
murder even of fools, why are those ponds left in a state which makes
a slip under the ice, death ? Why should they be ten or twenty feet
deep, when all their purposes may be equally answered, by making
them three ? Why should they not be kept at that level of water, which
answering perfectly for all the objects of decoration, would fail only in
the one object of drowning? As to Lord Rivers, a letter in the Age shews
the question in a new point of view : —

" SIR, — The papers last week announced the untimely fate of that amiable,
belored, accomplished gentleman, Lord Rivers ; and as the Coroner's verdict
may lead to a false conclusion, I, as the intimate friend, feel it due to the
memory of his Lordship, and right as regards the public, to give a plain state-
ment of what did actually occur. On the Saturday evening preceding his
death, Lord Rivers went, not to a Hell, but to his Club, at the bottom of St.
James's-street ; and, most unfortunately, was induced, by a well-known
skilful veteran, to sit down at the destructive game of ecarte. The acute ones,
with breathless anxiety, pressed forward to back his opponent; and while
there was a gallery, very little was done : but, at a late hour, as it usually
happens in these cases, this unfortunate nobleman was left in the hands of a
select few, when moderate play became immoderate; and, as was inevitable,
at the close he became loser to the amount of many thousand pounds, no part
of which has been paid. From this simple recital, the public are left to form
their own judgment; and, if it be incorrect, the parties implicated have it in
their power to contradict it. " AMICUS."

" 1 had forgotten to mention, that when the body was taken out of the
water, his hat was secured with a handkerchief tied under the chin, with the
evident intention of preventing its floating to the surface."

If this statement be well founded, the question seems to admit of but lit-
tle doubt. But, as to the Duke of Sussex's appointment, a feeling of irri-
tation has arisen. The duke is a first-rate hater of all kinds of things that
ought to be hated, of reversions, pensions, sinecures, &c. &c. Yet the
public exclaim that his Rangership of Hyde Park is a sinecure ! and that
his royal highness is rather overpaid for doing nothing, by a salary of
£1,200 a year! They exclaim, that in the matter of laying hold of the
public money they find no difference whatever between the various
classes of public principle ; and that a large sinecure is agreeable to a
royal duke, peculiarly when that royal duke already enjoys an allowance
of £27,000 a year.

The " Great Agitator" has undoubtedly gone a little beyond that
strict line of prudence by which a sagacious man contrives to do mis-
chief, without making himself answerable for the consequences. This
has been hitherto the grand boast of Irish faction ; and there have been
few more pregnant instances on record of the. dexterity with which a
lawyer may contrive to keep <( on the windy side of the law/' But he

1831.] A/airs in General. 323

' has trod on the wires of the spring-gun at last, and we shall soon be
able to ascertain whether his dexterity will help him to escape the dis-
charge. His partizans now complain furiously of the baseness of perse-
cuting the rabble-cause in the courts. But, of all the scorners on the
present occasion, there has not been one more ready to fly to the ven-
geance of the law on every occasion than the great Agitator himself.
Actions against newspapers were his daily threat ; and if Sir Henry
Hardinge could have been extinguished by the fulmination of writs and
warrants, he would have been in the other world six months ago. We
remember the following " announcement of action :" —

{t I never will submit to such audacity ; and I here promise that I will never
cease to pursue the — miscreants, shall I call them ? — no, that would he too
hard a phrase ; — but I will call them the despicable, base, miserable, paltry
creatures, with bad heads and worse hearts, who issued that nefarious procla-
mation— in that place, where, and at that period when, reason shall be listened
to. I do riot mean to say that I shall be attended to in the rotten, borough-
mong-ering- Parliament. But I trust the day is not far distant when reason
shall be heard, and when fine and imprisonment shall mark the foul conduct of
Secretary Major-General Sir H. Hardinge. He usurped the prerogative of the
Lord Lieutenant alone — greater, I admit, than any that the King is invested

with ; and I have no hesitation in stating that for this he is indictable at
jaw/> ********

A paragraph in the Literary Gazette, states a circumstance that may
be worth attending to on the part of those who are interested in the
reputation of British science : —

Cf The late Earl of Bridgewater, whose eccentricities furnished gossip for
the frequenters of half the salons of Paris last year, bequeathed several thou-
sand pounds sterling to the writers of the best essay on the Structure of the
Earth, and on the Human Hand. His Lordship, at the same time, nominated
the President and Council of the Royal Society, Somerset-House, for the time
being, to judge of the respective merits of the various essays which might be
submitted by competitors who were expected to start, not only in this country,
but also on the Continent — a circumstance which, at the time, not a little
alarmed the Royal Society, who imagined that a considerable run would be
made upon their funds for postage, so numerous and distant were the
applications anticipated to turn out : Berlin, Gottingen, Paris, Vienna, Copen-
hagen, and many other learned abodes, were severally looked to. It is
believed the fears alluded to have not been realized, at least to so alarming an
extent ; and amongst the names of the competitors for the golden prize, whose
essays will shortly be submitted, are those of Professor Buckland, of Oxford,
who writes the geological part — essay, " Structure of the Earth." For the
essay on " the Hand," Mr. Charles Bell takes the anatomical part, and Dr.
Roget the physiological. Should the joint labours of these gentlemen entitle
them to the legacy, they will, it is said, divide it amongst them."

Now, if all this be correct in point of statement, we must take the liberty
of doubting its correctness in point of principle. Every body knows of
what nature the brains of the late Earl of Bridgewater were, and the
first question with any society of common sense should be, whether the
business were worth their entering into ? But the paragraph tells us
that three of the Fellows of the Royal Society are combining to do,
what none of them could do singly, and what the earl's bequest clearly
required to be done by one, and that the affair being thus comfortably
jobbed, the money is to be partitioned to the several performers. We
can scarcely believe this ; for in all instances of competition it is under-

2 T 2

324 Notes of the Monlh on [MARCH,

stood that the candidates shall come single-handed, that their names
shall be rigidly suppressed, and that the officers of the society deciding
shall have nothing whatever to do with the competition. Yet here we
have the secretary in the compound. If the matter be not altogether
a jest passed upon the public, we should think it a very curious speci-
men of the new administration of the Royal Society.

The whigs are shuffling about the pensions, but they may as well save
themselves the trouble. The pensions must go. With taxes, which crush
every honest man in the country ; which take the bread out of his chil-
dren's mouths, and extinguish the heart within himself; with the earn-
ings of his labour called for once a week by some grim personage, with
the Revenue's authority for the demand ; and three-fourths of the lower
population living on the parish ; the nation will not suffer the lords and
ladies of this earth, the silken countesses, and the accomplished gentle-
men who attend them to balls, and lounge in their drawing-rooms, to
feed upon the public bread any longer. In a late debate, Mr. Hume
touched upon a few of the fortunate and favoured children of English
bounty : —

" There is Lord Sidmouth, £3.000. ; Mr. Ward, ,£1,000. ; Mr. Lushington,
£1,000. ; 'Mr. Goulburn, £1,000.; Mr. T. P. Courtenay, £1,000.; LordBexley,
£3,000. ; and Mr. Hobhouse, £1,000. Now, I venture to say, that the ser-
vices of all these pensioners together are not worth, and had never been worth,
£3,000. Had it depended upon a vote of the House, not one of them would
have received one shilling. If I had the power, so far from granting them
pensions, I would have several of them impeached for their conduct."

This list, brief as it is, is intolerable. On what principle of common
sense is it to be established, that the possession of a vast salary for a suc-
cession of years actually forms a claim to be supported for life at the
public expense ? Lord Sidmouth, for instance, was speaker for half his
public life, with emoluments little short of £10,000 a year. From the
speakership he was made prime-minister, with at least the same income,
and for the remainder of his political life was Home Secretary, at £(5,000
a year, with various emoluments besides. He cannot have received in
the course of office less than £150,000! yet we now have him a pen-
sioner at £3,000 a year, for the last half-dozen years, and with a house
in Richmond Park besides. If we are to be told that he expended his
receipts on his office ; we demand the evidence — we ask what instance of
public liberality was ever exhibited by his lordship ? What great pro-
ject of science, what man of talents did he patronize ? What public
work bears his name ? For all those purposes, he might as well have
been digging at the bottom of a Cornish mine. And yet this man is to
receive the enormous sum of .£3,000 a year, from the pockets of a nation
oppressed with a debt of eight hundred millions!

Lord Bexley is a man of large private fortune, yet his gratitude too we
must cherish at the rate of £3,000 a year.

Then comes Mr. Goulburn, and his merits are, that after being hand-
somely salaried in English office for a number of years, he was made
secretary in Ireland, at £6,000 a year ; a calamity which this right
honourable person endured for three years ; and now finds his endurance,
after a two years' receipt of the salary of Chancellor of the Exchequer
besides, or £12,000, entitled to the further payment of £1,000 a year for
lif'i- ! This man's appliance to the public purse must have been at least,

1831.] Af airs in General. 325

to the amount of £50,000, and probably of a great deal more : yet here
we have a heavy annuity to pay him still. The system must be extin-
guished, whoever may be minister.

We are glad to hear a contradiction of the reports that the Pimlico
palace was to be sold to a subject. The Dukes of Northumberland and
Devonshire, are said equally to disclaim the intention, and we can
scarcely conceive that the idea could have been palatable to the king : it
would certainly have been most offensive to the community. We have
too much of foolish pride to contend with, to suffer it to be further swelled,
by the possession of palaces built by the public money for the monarch.
Besides, however unsightly the Pimlico palace may be, it is better than
none ; and the first change in the royal or ministerial tastes might saddle
us with the building of another palace, the present one being disposed
of to some noble duke. The sale of the York palace was a national dis-
grace ; and we have no doubt that its neighbourhood to St. James's is
by no means considered among the sources of royal comfort in that
edifice. But the same blunder must not be committed again.

There are some tardy improvements in the park. A new road has
been made in a direct line from Storey's-gate, to James-street, Pimlico,
which will be opened to carriages in a few days ; the other road will be
filled up, as it is in contemplation of the Commissioners of Woods and
Forests to let the ground on building leases. But we must ask what has
become of the public passage which was to have been opened from the end
of Regent-street, into St. James's park ? There stops the excavation. But
whose is the master hand that checks the royal will ? all is ready but the
permission of this secret authority ; and there stands the work, to the
exclusion of the public, and we presume to the great self-congratulation
of the noble householders of Carlton Gardens.

As his Grace of Wellington is said to be again on terms of inter-
course at the Pavilion, and to be listened to, we beg to remind the noble
duke of his pledge given to the House of Lords, on the third reading of
his famous Bill of Emancipation, which, if our memory does not fail,
was in the following, words : — " If this healing measure should not
pacify the Catholics of Ireland, as I have reason to believe it will, I
pledge myself to be the^r,^ person to come down to this house to call
for other and more effectual laws !" No doubt his Grace, if he reflects
one moment upon his healing measure, and compares Ireland as it now
is, with what it was before he made the Protestant Church swallow that
great healing pill, will keep his word.

It has become almost a truism that lawyers are the worst legislators ;
and we are reminded of George Selwyn's question on a similar remark,
" When do you mean to put Jack Ketch on the committee for reforming
the Criminal Law ?" Yet, without altogether believing that a lawyer
feels an instinct in puzzling the course of justice, nothing can be more
certain than that lawyers' systems of law-reform are always confusion
worse confounded. It is but a few years since we had a new Code of
Insolvency, which was declared to put an end to legislation on that
head ; and now we have declarations on all sides that the system has
produced nothing but abuses. It appears from the official returns, last
made up, that the number of insolvent debtors discharged under the

326 Notes of the Month on [MARCH;

present act, up to the end of 1829, amounted to 51,000 ; their debts,
four millions sterling ; assets averaged one farthing in the pound, and
the expence of discharge £25 each prisoner. Not more than 65 out of
every 1,200 " estates" produced any assets at all ! The annual salaries
of the four commissioners amount to £11,251. Their travelling ex-
penses (which are necessarily great) are not included in this sum. We
thus pay £11,000., or, in fact, nearer £20,000. a year, for what? the
valuable purpose of knowing that 51,000 people are worth one farthing
in the pound. So much for the good of their creditors. But then comes
another item. Each of those miserables, who cannot pay their debts
to the amount of a shilling in every half hundred, must contrive to pay
the lawyers, in all their classes, not less than £25. each, or about a
million and a quarter of pounds sterling ! a handsome profit certainly
for the lawyers, and actually amounting to about a third of the whole
debt of the insolvents, stated at four millions. We think that this third
would have been better paid into the hands of their creditors. Surely
this must be looked into. We find the statement in the public papers ;
no one contradicts it, yet the system goes on. Or can common sense
devise no means for making the insolvent, who thus contrives to pay
£25. to the law, amenable to the creditor for something more than a
farthing ? In the present state of the act the advantage is all on the
side of the lawyer, and the knave his client. It is impossible to conceive
that four millions of money can have disappeared from the insolvents*
hands without fraud ; and it should be the business of legislation to
make that money tangible once more. That insolvents and bankrupts
give a false statement of their affairs, in ninety-nine cases out of a
hundred, is as notorious as noon-day.

Orator Hunt has enthroned himself in the House of Commons'
beside Orator Hume, arid henceforth the world is to go round on
another principle. He has already made a speech not at all tempestuous,
and seems commencing his campaign as a diseur de Ions mots. His first
fires are brandished against the laurels of his late rival, Stanley, the
Irish secretary, of whom he has given the public the following proof
of those powers which were to make him a statesman : —

" The story goes-~when he was in College, employed reading Cobbett's
English Grammar, he had a half-starved cat in the room; and a pound of
mutton-chops, which he intended for his dinner, was stolen. He questioned
the maid about it, who laid it on the cat ; upon which Stanley took the cat by
the scruff of the neck to the next cheesemonger's shop, weighed it, and finding
the cat, who was accused of eating the pound of chops, did not altogether
weigh half a pound, by this ingenious device detected the theft of the servant-
maid."

The Orator argues, that glory must attend the steps of a youth who could
give so profound an evidence of his sagacity in detecting the misprisions
of cookmaids. The weigher of cats might do good service in weighing
some of the sinecurists, and ascertaining whether their quantity of
matter was really adequate to their supposed receipts, or whether some
higher hand, some official cookmaid, did not share the spoil, and mulct
the sinecurist himself.

Yet Ireland is certainly at all times curiously administered. Its
secretaryship is generally the lot of somebody of whom nobody has
ever heard before. A clerk from the treasury, a promising youth from

1831.] 'Affair* in General. 327

Harrow, or a Lancastrian fox-hunter, are sent over to govern Ireland ;
for the lord-lieutenant is generally no more than a grave gentleman,
who gives a dinner now and then, has four aides-de-camp, dines once
with the lord mayor, and plays whist every evening. Within the last
quarter of a century Ireland has enjoyed the change of those governor-
ships nearly as often as that of her summer and winter ; for the average
of secretaries has been one and a half every two years. That Mr.
Stanley may be as decorous a secretary as any of them, we have not the
.slightest reason to doubt, but the pamphleteers are prodigiously angry
on the occasion, and one of them thus gives his opinion : —

" And whom does Earl Grey send over to fill the all-important office of
Secretary for Ireland — of the acting-, positive Governor of that fine kingdom ?
The Hon. Mr. Stanley. Mr. Stanley ! A young man, thirty years of age,
.unconnected by birth or station, or (I believe) family connections, with Ire-
land ; who knows nothing of Irish affairs, or of Irishmen, from his own per-
sonal observation and experience ; and whose recommendation to office must
consist in one or the other of these two accidents : that he is the lineal heir,
after Lord Stanley, of the powerful house of t)erby — that, during Mr. Can-
ning's administration, he was Under-Secretary for the Colonies. Are the
destinies of all the English families in Ireland — of all the vital interests which
connect, reciprocally, Ireland and England — of all the relations in which
England stands to foreign Courts, in respect of her government of Ireland —
to be really confided to such guardianship as this ? Is this a time for favour-
itism, or patronage, or jobbing, in a particular of such immense importance
to the English ? I blush for the respectable name, the former character, the
present position of Earl Grey !"

All this is very lively, and very angry. Yet, is it not rather hard,
Lancashire as the new secretary may be, to charge him with his thirty
years as a crime ? nothing is more capable of mending. And as to
principle, aye, fixed, determined, intractable principle, will he not be
as brilliant an example as Sir Robert Peel, let him turn as he may ? And
as for courtesy, dignity, and honour, is he likely to fall below the
standard of our right trusty, and faithful cousin and friend, Mr.
Goulburn ? Perhaps he may not write as good poetry, or perform so
well in private theatricals, as Lord Francis Gower ; but time, that
works other wonders, may accomplish even to this height the natural
faculties of the secretary for the Gem of the Ocean, &c.

We see by the reports of the trials, that Mr. St. John Long has
been acquitted. On this subject the tribunals are of course the most
competent to decide, and we can have no quarrel with them for their
decision, nor with the subject of the trial, for making the best fight
that he could. It must be acknowledged, that he brought before the
court a great number of respectable persons to vouch for his character,
and to give evidence to the utility of his practice. As to any hostility
on our part, as journalists, to him, we could have had none, and merely
followed in our statements, those which every day produced in the
newspapers. On the course of cure to which he has pledged himself,
we may at our further leisure give a more deliberate opinion. But,
for the present we shall say, that being perfectly aware that medicine
is at best but a grand experiment, and a discovery by no means re-
stricted to those who have taken degrees in the college of physicians,
we are prepared to give credit to Mr. St. John Long, or to any one,
who shall produce an effective remedy for any disease, and peculiarly

328 Notes of the Month on Affairs in General Q

for that one, -which is the most fatal and unhappy infliction of our
climate, on the most interesting part of its population.

A-propos, in a former article upon the subject, we happened to make
mention of a lady, who was stated to have attended this method of
'cure, without the presence of a chaperon. This we took word for
word from the statement in the newspapers. We have subsequently
understood that this was an error, that the lady in question was always
accompanied by her friends. We regret that we had any share in
repeating this assertion, as it would be certainly among our last inten-
tions to hurt the feelings of any respectable person. But we made
mention of no name; and, even thus, desire the lady to accept our
regrets.

The age of political prophecy is gone by, and every man now who
pretends to a character for common-sense, disclaims all idea of what will
happen beyond the week. On the Continent, a still shorter time may
make the difference between peace and war — between living in quiet
under one's own fig- tree, and flying half-naked over half the world,
pursued by swarms of sharpshooters and clouds of dragoons. But the
state of England is of more importance to us ; and it is impossible to
deny that it deserves to excite the strongest anxiety. The ruin of empires
in the clays of antiquity was by the vices of their kings. An army
revolted — or a military usurper,, taking advantage of the national dis-
gust— or some daring power, that had waited only until public spirit
was dead, made a rush upon the empire, and broke it down.
' But the chief cause of decay in modern kingdoms has been public
waste. A wise finance is the secret of a permanent government ; and a
prodigal treasury the sure agent of undoing. What must be the feelings
of a true lover of England, when he sees what the progress of her debt
has been ? The world has had no other example of a burthen so rapidly
increased, and so utterly beyond the strength of a people to bear, or
their hope to shake off. What says the history ? —

•"' George the Third reigned fifty-nine years, thirty-three of which were
passed in war, and twenty-six in peace. The Debt, at his accession, was
£120,000,000. ; at his demise, .£820,000,000. ! George the Third found the
annual charge of taxation X6,000,,000., and left it £60,000,000., including the
expense of collection."

From this tremendous debt, sixteen years of peace have literally taken
nothing ; for the operation of the sinking fund, by some hocus-pocus,
seems never to lighten a shilling of the burthen ; and, year by year, we
have the old eight hundred millions staring us in the face! The
debt must be paid in some shape or other ; and yet, what political pro-
phet will tell us from what source payment is to come ?

1831.]

[ 329 ]

MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN,

The History of Modern Greece, from its
Conquest by the Romans, B.C. 146, to the
present Time, byJas. Emerson, Esq.,2vols.
800. — The affairs of Greece, from the con-
quest ofthe Romans, and even from that
of Philip and his warlike son, have of
course merged in the general story of
the master-powers, and, like those of any
other province, have only occasionally
come in for any discriminating notice.
Yet separated by language, and a culti-
vated one — by never-dying recollections
— they have never, any more than the
Jews, freely incorporated with their
conquerors, and their whole history is
still capable of insulation, and worthy
of it. Mr. Emerson has done all that
research can well do to accomplish the
object ; but he has put his materials to-
gether somewhat awkwardly. His pur-
pose was to close at the period at which
the recent revolution was on the point
of exploding ; and yet he commences,
by way of preface, with a sketch, in con-
siderable detail, of the revolution itself.
The Grecian story is taken up at the
death of Alexander, and cursorily pur-
sued through the Achaian league— the
conquest of the country by the Romans
— the successive invasions and spolia-
tions of Alaric, Attila, and Theodoric—
the capture of Constantinople by the
Crusaders, and consequent occupation
of Greece by the French barons — the
restoration of the Palseologi, and the
final capture ofthe capital by the Turks.
The story then proceeds, with more
particularity, through the contests of
the Turks with the Venetians, till the
peace of Passarowitz, in 1718, when the
Venetians lost the Morea for ever.
The Ionian islands were left in the
hands of the Venetians, and on that
ground their history is still gone on
with, not only to the peace of Campo
Formio, when the Venetians lost them
also, but up to the present time, when,
under the good government of England,
they are at least prevented from cutting
one another's throats, or plundering
their neighbours.

After the treaty of Passarowitz, the
general history is suspended to afford an
opportunity for exhibiting, at consi-
derable length, the condition of the
Greeks under the despotism of the
Turks ; and under the several heads of
political state — Greek Church— Arma-
toli and Klephts— Greeks of the Fanar—
Hospodars of the Provinces— the fate
of the language, literature, and fine arts
— a general, but very adequate view, is
fairly exhibited of that condition. At
this period of her history, Greece must
be considered as depressed to the lowest
depths of her enslavement, but with

M.M. New &?rtw._.VoL.XI. No. 63.

still too much elasticity to be utterly
crushed. The Greeks had been too long
accustomed to subjugation, not to know
how to avail themselves of even its ad-
vantages. They were superior to their
conquerors in cultivation. They could
make themselves useful, and they were
of principles sufficiently flexible to work
by cunning, where force was useless. The
arts ofthe parasite were all their own.
Juvenal's portrait was still their like-
ness under the Turks : — " With the
Romans," observes Mr.E., " they took an
important part in every transaction, pub-
lic or domestic, and concentrated in their
body an exclusive right of interference
in their affairs. With the Turks, in
like manner, their shrewdness and acti-
vity rendered them their advisers and
agents in every matter where ignorance
or indolence compelled them to call in
their aid ; and secret commissions, well-
timed attentions, and ostentatious devo-
tion to their masters, were alike their
duty in the palaces of the Caesars and
the seraglios of Constantinople. A ready
wit, consummate impudence, and fluent
declamation, were the characteristics of
the Roman parasite; — whilst a perpe-
tual smile of adulation, a ready laugh, a
bow of obsequiousness, a tongue tipped
with flattery, and an eye twinkling with
cunning, completed the picture of the
Fanariot."

Among other things, their services, as
interpreters, were invaluable to them-
selves, and indispensable to their mas-
ters. The Turk knows, and will know,
no other language but his own. They
were thus of necessity admitted to dip-
lomatic secrets, and by degrees wormed
themselves into the Hospodoriats of the
northern provinces. Their available
talents prompted them onwards in the
career of insinuation and influence ; and
the subsequent history of the Greeks
is but a silent and underworking course
towards open resistance. Their schools
extended — the old writers were again in
the hands of numbers— and the Fanariot
Greeks, visiting the colleges of Italy and
Germany, gathered knowledge, and, by
degrees, resolution, to seize the first
opportunity of throwing off' the yoke of
the Osmanlis. The first spontaneous
resistance originated with the Suliots
against old Ali ; for the wretched at-
tempts, in 1770, and again about twenty
years afterwards, were prompted by the
Russians, who basely deserted their un-
fortunate dupes.

The Incognito ; or, Sins and Peccadil-
los. By Don T. de Trueba. 3 vols.
12mo — This very clever Spaniard, who
handles the English language almost
2 U

330

Monthly Review of Literature,

[MARCH,

with the correctness and even with the
ease of a native — though he still talks
of " old ugly maids," and " silk white
stockings" — 'has quitted the field of his-
torical romance for what he, not unhap-
pily, calls a more veracious kind of fiction
— an analysis of modern Spanish life —
sketches of the society of Madrid, of
which capital we know in England ahout
as much as we do of that of Japan.
He has done wisely — it is to seek glory
where it may be found. Historical ro-
mance is fairly over-run by English
writers, and the fashionable novel of
London Life is in the same state — with
neither class, moreover, can a foreigner
hope to compete very successfully — •
though Don Trueba we allow has done
wonders — but neither, on the other
hand, can any Englishman compete with
him on the details of the society of his
own native land. He has the tield all
to himself. Never was a more favour-
able period, for never was curiosity
more alive about foreign manners ; and
since the days of Gil Bias, Spain has
been almost untrodden ground.

The period selected is 1820, on the
approaching short-lived triumph of the
Constitutionalists— though the tale has
little to do with political matters. The
author studiously avoids the topic, and
only once attempts to rescue his coun-
trymen from undeserved obloquy. Al-
luding to Napoleon's invasion, and the
general burst of the Spaniards to repel
the aggressor, " some foolish people,"
he ironically remarks, " tjiought the
Spaniards had shewn some heroism — •
some love of national independence, and,
moreover, that the merit was enhanced
by the difficulties that beset them ; but
foolish people," he adds, " as every
body knows, are very apt to be in the
wrong — they were so in this case, and,
accordingly, Colonel Napier, and other
good folks, equally zealous in the cause
of truth and justice, have very merito-
riously set about correcting the error
of the said foolish people. They have
clearly shewn, by the irrefragable proof
of their own infallible word, that there
was no heroism at all in the case — that
the Spaniards did nothing, because the
Spaniards are a set of cruel, supersti-
tious, ignorant, cowardly fellows," &c.

The Incognito — to give a bare outline
— is a Conde', whose countess, a very-
lovely woman, intrigues with her foot-
man, and kindly recommends her hus-
band— a studious man, and therefore
likely to meddle with matters not
thought to concern him — to the Inqui-
sition. Escaping, however, from their
dungeons, he flies to America, and re-
turns to Spain about the time when
the Constitutionalists were gaining the
ascendancy, with the hope of again re-
suming his station in society. In the

meanwhile the Countess figures in the
fashionable tertulias as a rich widow,
with a daughter, whom she is labouring
to marry to a wealthy banker's son.
But the banker's son is perversely at-
tached to an orphan girl, brought up
with his old maiden aunt at Aranjuez,
and, in spite of his father's coarse ma-
noeuvres and importunities, steadily re-
fuses to second his schemes of aggran-
dizement. The poor, but beautiful or-
phan, proves to be the Incognito's own
daughter by a former marriage, and is,
of course, rescued from the clutches of
beatas and monks, who wish to make a
nun of her, and is finally married to
her lover. In the midst of the Countesses
apparent gaiety and splendour, she is
harassed to death at home by her se-
ducer, who drains her purse, and at last
insists upon marrying her, under the
threat of exposure*. Before, however,
he carries his point, he discovers the
Incognito, and forthwith hires a bravo
to dispatch him. The bravo plays booty,
and a discovery follows. The husband
breaks in upon the seducer, while in the
act of forcing the Countess to a mar-
riage— the wretch makes a plunge with
his cichucco at the Incognito — the Coun-
tess throws herself between them, and
intercepts the fatal blow in her own
bosom.

The reader will find scenes, charac-
ters, and national peculiarities to which
he was before probably a stranger— but
we have no space to particularize. The
grave irony with which the whole is
written is apt to weary — it is the com-
mon tone of the old Spanish novels — and
the writer has stretched it to the full
limits of endurance.

A specimen is but fair — the good peo-
ple of Madrid have not learnt to be
exclusive yet. Certainly we are the
haughtiest people in Europe — some will
say, because the most cultivated.

The great people of Madrid have as yet made
very little progress in the science of exclusive-
ness. They have not been compelled deeply to
study the means of repelling the attacks of the
tntrusivcs ; there is neither a city to meditate
invasion, not a west end striving to defeat the
inimical designs. North and south, east and
west, are alike to the nobles and fashionables,
and thus the magnificent mansionsof the grandees
are scattered about the metropolis without any
other reference but the convenience of the situa-
tion. Besides, there is no terra incognita at
Madrid, inhabited by savages and nondescripts,
as there is in London, according to the accounts
of some very wise and profound authors. The
great people are also sadly deficient in the know-
ledge of all those little rules which the said au-
thors hold so decisive in determining the ton of a
person. They have not yet learnt the fashion or
vulgarity contained in each wine, and accordingly
every one swallows very innocently the wine he
likes best, without ever suspecting the deleterious

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

331

and noxious liquor he is absorbing. The proper-
ties of knives, and forks, and spoons, tureens, &c.
&c., in conferring fashion, have not been ascer-
tained. Nor has any one deeply meditated and
discovered the loathsome vulgarity of porter and
cheese ; nay, the ignorance of the Spaniard goes
so far in these matters, that we have seen a
young fashionable nobleman take soup twice, be-
cause he liked it, without incurring thereby any
sort of disgrace.

They have also a deplorable want of a proper
jargon to designate things peculiar to the caste,
nor have they ever reflected that bad French is
preferable to good Spanish. They accordingly
express their thoughts in the Castilian tongue,
as any other low vulgar son of the little people
might be expected to do. Their transgressions
against dress are intolerable, nor can we suffi-
ciently reprobate the custom of buying their ar-
ticles indiscriminately, without any reference to
the street or to the house that sold them, but
merely to the quality and price. Even the most
desperately fashionable at Madrid could never
imagine that the more he looked like a ruffian,
the more fashionable he would be. Thus, fero-
cious whiskers and mustachios, those desirable
appendages to a gentleman of ton, are tamely
left to be monopolized by the manolos. In the
accomplishments of a beau they are extremely
deficient ; they can neither speak slang, box a
watchman, nor reel home drunk, and they know
not a single iota concerning racing, prize-tight-
ing, cock-fighting, hunting, &c. Some of the
great people you may meet at times talking in
the streets to individuals of a different caste,
without shocking and scandalizing his set.

Lives of the Italian Poets^ by the Rev.
II. Stebbing, with Medallion Portraits, 3
vols. 12mo. — Mr. Stebbing has accom-
plished a very agreeable task in a very
agreeable style of execution ; but we
could have wished to hear more of the
works, and less of the men. The works
are indisputably good ; but of the
writers, especially of the elder ones, we
have little unquestionable evidence ;
and to gather the character from the
works, which is what Mr. Stebbing
seems inclined to do, is to trust to a very
uncertain guide— for it is not always
easy to determine when a writer, though
he may talk very earnestly, is talking the
truth — communicating his actual con-
victions, or indulging his imagination,
and yielding to fancy. We are quite
sure Mr. Stebbing has suffered his ad-
miration to blind his judgment. He
takes all, if not for gospel, certainly for
inspiration. He would consider it a
kind of profanation to scan the personal
demerits of Dante, Petrarch, and Tasso
too closely, or bring their conduct to the
test of common sense and common esti-
mates. Considering Dante, for instance,
as we must, as a man of genius and dis-
tinguished talent, we cannot at the same
time regard him as an object of particu-
lar admiration in his private character,
or very much in his public one — nor
think him entitled to a monotonous and

eternal apology. He was a man of highly
susceptible temperament, and slid na-
turally enough into amatory poetry ; he
was also a disappointed patriot, and as
naturally rushed into philippic and sa-
tire. His poetry is full of personality,
of coarse and intolerant violence; nor
will his motives — his sense of justice,
poetical or political -bear examination
for an instant. He obviously indulged
his party-feelings to rancour and venom.
As little are we inclined to sympathixe
with his lack-a-daisical love. Beatrice
was a girl of his own age and rank — a
family acquaintance — one whom, for any-
thing that appears, he might have mar-
ried if he had chosen to do so ; but, in
truth, she seems to him merely a poet-
ical vision, or rather a name for his own
beautiful imaginings. There is no sa-
tisfactory evidence that he really wished
the Beatrice of his verses to be the Bea-
trice of his acquaintance. She married
early, and died early— at twenty-five.
He himself, within a year or two of the
same age, married a lady of family and
property, with whose temper his own
does not seem to have harmonized.
Which was to blame — who is to tell ?
They lived the life of cat and dog. She
was jealous, it is said, but not surely, as
Mr. S. would have us believe, of a dead
mistress ; and it is unquestionable she
had reason to be so of a living one, for
whose sake, probably, it was, he finally
separated himself wholly from his family
for years.

Nor is there, in the same way, any
tolerating the sighing and sorrowing
with Petrarch about Laura, and his so-
litudes at Vaucluse. In the deepest of
his poetical distresses — for we imagine
they were no more — he comforted him-
self with a complying mistress — he had
children by more than one — and, when
disengaged' from these particular cares,
steadily prosecuted his readings and
writings at the rate of eighteen hours a
day. lleally we cannot imagine any-
thing more laughable than the nonsense
that, first and last, has been babbled
about Petrarch, and the Laura upon
whom he wrote sonnets for twenty
years.

Mr. Stebbing has given far too much
into this kind of folly ; but, apart from
this too decided tendency to suppose
love, and unrequited love especially, was
the grand source of Italian inspiration,
his production is indicative of an elegant
and amiable spirit, and is executed with
as much taste as feeling. Tasso's life,
though mixed up a little too much with
Leonora and her influence, has much
less of this puerility. His insanity, and
Alfonso's brutal and vulgar treatment,
and the fatal effects of it, are dwelt upon
with energy and discrimination : the
tale is full of interest.

o TT <*

332

Monthly Review of Literature,

QMARCH,

It is idle to complain of the introduc-
tion of some names in these lives of Ita-
lian poets, or of the absence of others ;
but if the names of Lorenzo and Poli-
tiano were to be enrolled as poets, the list
might have been multiplied fifty-fold.
Nobody could expect to find Boccaccio,
known now certainly only for his lascivious
tales. Mr. S. has pretty plainly little re-
lish for such a man as Luigi Pulci, or he
would surely not have introduced him
parenthetically only— or rather as an
appendage to Politiano. Forteguerra,
we believe, is not even mentioned in a
.note ; nor even such poets as Rucellai,
Morando, Zappi, or Pastorini. But no
two persons probably would agree pre-
cisely in the adoption of any list; and
we welcome, as a thing that was wanted,
what we have got.

Allan McDougal, or Scenes in the Pe-
ninsula^ 3 vols. I2mo. — Though spring-
ing from the well-known manufactory of
fade romances, Allan McDougal is of
other stuff— of a more manly cast and
quality. The writer knows, at all
events, something of the world he de-
scribes ; and his tale may be read,
without revolting them, by those who
know that same world thoroughly. A
desire to talk of Spain— the scene of
some of the author's personal experience
— probably prompted the production.
The tale itself is not very skilfully con-
structed, nor are the incidents or cha-
racters even — save the military ones —
anything more than may be found every
day in the common run of secondary-
novels ; but the style of narrative is full
of spirit and intelligence. The writer
shews familiarity with life and realities ;
he detects readily the common motives
of action, and has no difficulty in giving
effective expression to them.

Allen McDougal is the son of a Scotch
laird — he takes early a fancy to the
army — is despatched to Canada — in-
dulges a passion for gaming — returns to
England — dashes bevond his resources
— marries, twice, women of property-
spends all he can grasp — sells his com-
mission— loses caste and credit — flies
from his creditors, and is heard no more
of for years. His wife and two daugh-
ters are left behind upon a pittance,
which he could not get at. The mother
dies, and the daughters grow up hand-
some girls — one is engaged to a cousin,
who is pushing his way in the navy —
the other is patronized by a half-sister,
who is well married. In her sister's
fashionable circle the latter falls in with
a young gentleman, who, deeply struck
with her charms, is encouraged by his
father, an old and self-willed baronet,
solely for the purpose of detaching him
from a smart and dashing ftlle d'opera.
The youth, however, is as honest as he is

ardent; and, in spite of papa's prohi-
bition, marries, and takes her with him
to Spain. He is in the Guards, and an
aide-de-camp. The bride is left at Lis-
bon, and the young subaltern is actively
employed, which furnishes the occasion
of detailing some of the events of a cam-
paign or two. One incident in the battle
of Talavera is described— a charge of ca-
valry— where nearly the whole body
were precipitated into a deep ditch, not
observed till they were too close to re-
cede. We do not remember the cir-
cumstance in arty of the multitudinous
descriptions of that far-famed engage-
ment ; but it is here given evidently as
a fact ; and if it be not one, the author
should learn to mark better the limits
between facts and fictions. In the
course of the war, the aide-de-camp is
severely wounded, and the wife resolves
to join him. The road is exposed to the
enemy's out-posts, and she loses her es-
cort, "but falls in with a Guerilla party
— the leader of which has luckily been
apprised of her route, and luckily also
has influence enough with his band to
secure her decorous treatment. The
chief is not a Spaniard — but, by his vi-
gour and activity, has obtained high
renown in the country, and the full con-
fidence of his comrades. El Andader
proves, finally, to be the young lady's
own father, who had. some years before,
quitted his native land to recover a cha-
racter among foreigners which was be-
come hopeless at home. By his exer-
tions, though he perishes in the effort,
she is got on board an English frigate,
which her sister's inamorato commands,
and is at last safely restored to the
arms of her wounded sposo.

A Topographical Dictionary of London
and its Environs, by James Elmes, Archi-
tect.— Quite a prize is this for the coun-
try visitors of " enlarged and still in-
creasing London," and not unacceptable
— or rather quite indispensable to resi-
dents, to whom, live where they may,
the parts more remote from them must
be, like Mr. Croker's Russell-square, a
terra incognita. There are hundreds of
buildings, the locality of which, few
even of those best acquainted with town
know any thing about — the endless pub-
lic offices, for instance, save a few lead-
ing ones. The author's aim was to com-
prise all public buildings, offices, docks,
squares, streets, lanes, wards, liberties,
charitable, commercial, scholastic, and
other establishments, with lists of their
officers, patrons, incumbents of livings,
&c. Of public places, descriptions of
some length are introduced, relative to
the history and purpose of them, and
much antiquarian information is scat-
tered over the volume.

Of course there will be in a first at-

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

333

tempt omissions and defects; but the
first and indispensable step to complete,
ness is accomplished. A place and re-
pository is thus prepared for every spot
that can require recording, and numbers
will be ready to lend the industrious
compiler a helping and correcting hand.

Inquiries concerning the Intellectual
Powers and the Investigation of Truth, by
John Abercrombie, M.D. — Dr. Abercrom-
bie is a philosopher of the Scotch
school, but of the better part of that
school — eschewing religiously all specu-
lations and theories, and, with the cool-
ness and steadiness of a modern chemist,
thoroughly sifting his facts, and reject-
ing all inferences but such as force
themselves upon his conviction beyond
all doubt or question. His ultimate ob-
ject— he is a physician' of respectability,
at Edinburgh - is to bring the results of
his metaphysics to bear upon medical
investigations — convinced, apparently,
that the doctors as yet are all abroad,
simply because they neither know what
a medical fact is, nor on what evidence
it really rests. The great lesson he in-
culcates is, not to precipitate conclu-
sions— but watch and observe, and pa-
tiently gather and accumulate, and con-
clude only when you cannot help mak-
ing conclusions.

The immediate object of all science
is to trace uniform relations. In abstract
science, this is comparatively easy, and
almost equally so in physical science ;
but when we come to medicine, for
instance, or politics • — notoriously the
two most uncertain things in existence
— they are mixed up with matters which
are neither under our control, nor within
our knowledge, and the results are pro-
portionally unsteady and fallacious — not
from their nature, but from our igno-
rance of the modus operandi. In medi-
cine, we have to deal with life, about
which we know nothing ; and in politics,
with passions and prejudices, about
which we can calculate with no cer-
tainty.

This distinction Dr. Abercrombie ex-
hibits very clearly in the introductory
portion of his book — after which he dis-
cusses the " extent of our knowledge of
mind," which is obviously limited to
facts of observation ; next, he inquires
where we get our knowledge of facts
relative to both matter and mind— and
the answer is, " from sensation, con-
sciousness, and testimony" — each of
which sources of the said knowledge is
stated with perfect clearness and sound
discretion. What Scotch metaphysi-
cians call the operations of the intellect,
come next under his survey — memory,
abstraction, imagination, and judgment
— not arguing as if they were the acts
of distinct faculties— that would be hy-

pothetical, and the very thing he care-
fully avoids— but regarding them simply
as distinguishable mental processes. The
last, reason or judgment, is treated of
at considerable length, especially as to
its specific use in investigating truth,
and in correcting erroneous and imper-
fect impressions from external things.
Dreaming, somnambulism, and insanity
fall within the province of the latter
office— insanity is but a kind of dream-
ing, and both involve a diminution of
power in estimating or controlling im-
pressions.

With these definite and sober views
of the powers and objects of the human
mind, hu proceeds now to apply them to
the investigation of medical science. In
three sections — on the acquisition and
reception of facts — on arranging, com-
bining, and separating them— and on
tracing the relations of cause and effect
— he gives the result of his metaphysical
principles and personal convictions.
These are full of sound sense and inva-
luable cautions— but yet such as a plain
understanding suggests at once, without
so elaborate a piece of machinery. In
collecting medical facts, these are the
errors to be chiefly guarded against —
receiving them on the testimony of
persons of doubtful veracity, or who,
we may suspect, have an interest in dis-
guising or colouring — receiving them on
the testimony of persons whose oppor-
tunities of information, or powers or ha-
bits of observation, are questionable--
partial statements, bearing upon one
view of a thing, or collected in support
of a particular doctrine — receiving,
again, as facts, on which important con.
elusions are to rest, circumstances which
are trivial, incidental, or foreign to the
subject— above all, receiving as facts
what are no facts at all — statements
which are not facts, but opinions — or
which only assume the relation of facts
—or which are nothing but the generali-
zation of facts. For instance— a person
dies affected with a certain set of symp-
toms, and, on examination after death,
are found the usual appearances of hy-
drocephalus. Another is seized with
similar symptoms, and recovers. Then
he recovers from hydrocephalus, does he
not? No; his recovery from certain
symptoms is a fact—his recovery from
hydrocephalus is not a fact, but an
opinion. Again — and a very common
case — a person recovers from a particular
disease while using a particular remedy.
Forthwith, as a medical fact, the reco-
very is ascribed to the remedy. But
here the only facts are the patient's re-
covery, and the use of a remedy — but
the connection of the remedy with the
recovery is not made out, and, at all
events, is not to be lightly assumed.
The action of external agents— whe-

334

Monthly Review of Literature,

[MARCH,

ther exciting disease, or employed as
remedies — are both of them full of illu-
sions, and attended with endless uncer-
tainties. Take an example in the effects
of cold. — Of six individuals who have
been exposed to cold in the same degree,
and, so far as we can judge, under the
same circumstances (of course, the cir-
cumstances never are the same), one is
seized with inflammation of the lungs —
one with diarrhoea, and one with rheu-
matism— while three escape without in-
jury—at least apparently so. Not a
whit less remarkable is the uncertainty
as to the action of remedies. One case
appears to yield readily to the remedy
employed; on another, apparently the
very same, it has no effect in arresting
its fatal progress ; while a third, which
threatened to be equally formidable, ap-
pears to cease without any remedy
at all.

We recommend the book to both the
doctors and their patients.

Narrative of a Journey through Greece,
in 1830, by Captain T. A. Trant, Author
of " Two Years in Ava." — Capt. Trant's
journey was taken in the winter of
1829-30, and extended to all the most
remarkable points of the Morea, and to
Athens. The volume is chiefly accept-
able for bringing information relative to
the condition of Greece down to a later
date than any that has yet been collected
in books, or that rests upon competent
authority. Capo d'Istrias had been two
years in authority, and had done abso-
lutely nothing towards bringing the
country into anything approaching a
civilized organization. Captain Trant
represents him as wholly absorbed with
his own interests. His two brothers
occupy the chief offices of the state — one
at the head of the war and marine de-
partments, and the other generalissimo
and lord high admiral. Capo succeeded
in frightening Prince Leopold — though
the prince probably had metal more
attractive at home— and will apparently
find no more difficulty in deterring any
other nominee of the triple courts. His
object — and no wonder — is to continue
himself at the head of the government ;
and what sort of occasion there can be
for a king, and a foreign king too, is past
all common comprehension. The popu-
lation does not exceed 750,000 ; the
country itself is in a state of desolation ;
and where are the supplies to come from
for the support of the trappings of roy-
alty, after the European style ?

In every town and village, Captain
Trant tracked the Arab devastations of
the merciless Ibrahim, who seems to
have visited with fire and sword every
corner of the peninsula. The towns
are completely in ruins— scarcely a house
with a roof to it, and the condition of

the peasantry worse than ever — more
filthy — more degenerate.

The Mairiots, it seems, are already
ceasing to form a distinct class ; and
Muvromichalis (old Petro Bey), ceding
his power, now lives quietlv at Napoli
di Itomania. He is now a senator only,
and of course merely a cypher.

A friend, says Capt. Trant, recently paid him a
visit at a new house he had just built, and re-
marked to him that he thought it extremely com-
fortable. "Yes," said the old chief, — "but you
should have seen me in my Bayship of Morna."
" How !" said his friend, — "do you regret former
times ? What induced you then to rise against the
Porte ?"—" Why, the fact is, that, though I waa
really powerful and rich, I wished to be more so ;
a crowd of agents surrounded me, and promised
to make me Prince of Greece ; and so I threw
myself headlong into the revolution. What has
been the result ? My son was killed — I was used
as a tool until my services were no longer requir-
ed, and now I am a mere man of dirtl"

Colocotroni, though with more influ-
ence, is not, it seems, a whit more con-
tented, or was not two years ago. Cap-
tain T. did not see him — but a friend of
his had some conversation with him soon
after Capo's arrival at Napoli. The
gentleman congratulated him on the
event, as calculated to secure the quiet
of the country —

" Ah !' ' exclaimed the old kleft— " these new times
are very bad indeed ; formerly, if I wanted half-
a-dozen sheep, I sent to the first flock and took
them with or without leave. I never had to buy
a horse ; there were plenty in the country. I did
just as I pleased, and nobody dared to remon-
strate ; but now that this president is come, I
cannot take a lew sheep or fowls, but the ras-
cally villagers go and make a complaint and
then I am written to by the government about
them. Bad times, these !"

They did not, it seems, prove so lad to
him as the old man anticipated. Capo
has been obliged to secure his friendship,
by suffering him to do pretty much as
he likes again. He has filled "his coffers
with the plunder of Tripolitza.

The prosperity of the Hydriots is
wholly at an end. They can no longer
obtain employment under their own flag;
and more than 800 of them, Captain
Trant states, have left Greece, with the
intention of entering the service of Ma-
homed Ali.

Captain Trant was prevented, by the
severity of the season, from visiting the
Lake of Phonia —

one of the most romantic spots in the Morea, and
celebrated in mythological history, as connected
with the labours of Hercules, who opened a pas-
sage for the waters of the lake to prevent their
overflowing. A prophecy (adds Capt. T.) exist-
ed, that the Greeks would obtain their liberty
whenever, the waters ceasing to flow, the lake
rose to the ancient level ; and by a most extra-
ordinary coincidence, this event has actually

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

335

taken place. In 1820, tho outlet became nccident-
ly stopped ; during: the succeeding: years the ob-
struction increased, tlie lake gradually filled, the
water has reached the ancient level, and Greece
is free.

At Athens, Captain T. could not get
permission from the Turkish commander
to visit the Acropolis. The temple of
Theseus has suffered some new dilapi-
dations—

A swarm of bees, unhappily for the temple,
pays Capt. T., not content with the security of
Mount Hymettus, established their hive within
the crevices of the pediment. The Turks dis-
covered the spot, they climbed to the roof ; and
finding that the honey could not be extracted
without overthrowing a portion of the building,
they with considerable difficulty hurled down one
half of the pediment, which now, instead of its
chaste outline, presents a broken and ragged
breach. Some of the figures in basso-relievo
have also been lately mutilated— here, one of the
Lapithse has had a leg knocked off — there, a
Centaur has been beheaded ; but these injuries
are the works of virtuosi. The western part of
the temple was severely injured by a flash of
lightning in 1821, which threw down part of the
cornice and shattered one of the columns ; but
notwithstanding this, the Theseion is still the
most perfect temple in existence. The interior
had been a Greek church, and is now a stable
for the Turkish cavalry.

Pouqueville is very unceremoniously
treated by Captain Trant — who, by the
way, we suspect, from the tone of his
book, lends too ready an ear to any that
talk with him.

The Domestic Gardener's Manual, fyc.*
by a Practical Horticulturist. — Though
published anonymously, the volume is
dedicated, in a manner implying a per-
sonal acquaintance, to Mr. Sought, the
President of the Horticultural Society
• — a gentleman every where known for
his own numerous dissertations on Gar-
dening, and practical knowledge of the
subject. The very name is a security.
To us— who, though we know little
about gardening, know something about
books— the volume before us is full of
information, and appears to be a very
superior production. The author treats
the matters before him philosophically
as well as practically, and appears as
much at home in the science of his sub-
ject as in the results of experience, and
whatever bears upon the best modes of
operation. Wherever we have dipped
in the volume, we have met with the
information we sought for. The vast
mass of materials are conveniently
thrown into monthly portions, each with
three subdivisions — the first confined to
the philosophy of the subject — the se-
cond, to vegetables — the third, to fruits
— accompanied also with a Naturalist's
Kalendar. The table of contents and
the index furnish a ready reference to

each article, and the whole must be
acceptable to the horticulturist. The
author is obviously well acquainted with
the best productions on the subject, and
has not disdained to avail himself of the
shrewdness and experience of Cobbett,
of whose works, in this department, he
speaks with the respect they deserve,
and which ought not to be withheld, be-
cause he runs wild in politics, or is more
violent than the occasion requires, or
more coarse than the fastidious can
brook.

The History of German Poetry, by W.
Taylor, of Norwich, 3 vols. 8uo. — Mr.
Taylor, of Norwich, is well known to
have spent the best years of his life
upon German literature. His transla-
tions have been pretty numerous, and
for years he wrote lives of the poets for
one periodical, and criticized their works
for another. His object in the present
publication was to bring together these
scattered pieces of his performance, and,
by filling up occasional gaps, to furnish
something approaching a complete view
of German poetry, from the earliest
times to the present ; and, bejrond all
doubt, he has accomplished a work su-
perior to any thing of the kind, relative
to German poetry, extant in our lan-
guage. Mr. Taylor assumes — as seems
inevitable among professional critics — a
lofty and lordly tone, and is apt to set
at defiance, in his own case, the very
laws he has been in the habit of admi-
nistering to others with some severity.

The first German poet, or at least the
first writer of German hexameters, Mr.
Taylor introduces in the person of Ovid,
who appears, from his own account,
while an exile on the shores of the
Euxine, to have written German verses,
and to have been somewhat ashamed of
them—

All pudet! et Getico scrips! sermonelibellum
Structaquesunt nostris barbara verba modis.

Ovid himself wrote nothing but hex.
and pentameters ; but nostris modis
might, in his days, imply lyric measures
in great variety ; and so, it is not quite
certain that he anticipated "Wieland and
Klopstock. None of his barbara verba
survive.

The earliest piece of German poetry
extant appears to have been the per-
formance of Odin ; it forms a part of the
u Edda," a collection made by order of
Charlemagne. Mr. Taylor makes Odin
cotemporary with Julian, and considers
his Valhalla, or paradise, to be nothing
but the description of some of the re-
cruiting quarters of the Romans. Among
the pieces of the times of Odinismis the
story of the Sword Tyrfing, which is
not so much German as Runic : Mr.
T. translates it from a German transla-

336

Monthly Review of Literature,

[MARCH,

tion. The " Beowulf" has some Chris-
tianity mixed up with it ; and, though
undoubtedly Danish, is assigned by Mr.
Taylor to the Danes of our own East
Anglia, rather than, as has been done
bv German critics, to the Danes of Lu-
beck.

Of the Southern Germans, classed as
the Lombard poetry, the oldest piece is
the story of Old Hildebrand, which may
be assigned to the sixth century, though,
in its existing form, it has been much
modernized. Pursuing the stream of
German poetry, he comes next to the
Franks, and the influence of Charle-
magne and his party upon the more
northern tribes. The most memorable
relics of these are— a Loyal Ballad to
Louis II. — Otfride — Hymns — St.
George — a War-Song of Louis III. —
Life of St. Anno — and Renard the Fox.
Here follows a blank till the accession
of the Suabian family to the empire ;
and then we have romance and chivalry
in abundance. Mr. T. discusses at some
length the sources of this new and po-
pular fiction — which he considers to
have been neither Moorish-Spain, nor
Gothic-Scandinavia — but Armorica, and
the connected provinces of Britain. All
European nations take their romances of
chivalry from the French ; the French
romances originate in the north of
France, not the south ; and the older
romances celebrate the heroes of greater
or lesser Britanny, and are therefore of
Armorican origin.

The Suabian period (1150-1300) ex-
hibits a multitude of poets, which, for
convenience, are distributed into cy-
cles. The first and earliest wrote of
Arthur and his knights — the second, of
Charlemagne and his peers — the third,
of the heroes of antiquity, coupled with
the manners of chivalry — and the fourth,
alone and exclusively of German heroes,
of whom Theodoric of Verona is the
centre. Of course, these last are all of
Lombard origin.

The Austrian period extends to the
Reformation, and embraces the produc-
tions of the master-singers — a sort of
patent poets ; such as a Dance of Death
—Ship of Fools — Mirror of Owls-
Mysteries — Faustus — Pope Joan, &c.

The Reformation put a stop to all
poetry and music, but psalms and psalm-
singing ; and Mr. Taylor takes the op-
portunity of balancing the good and the
bad of the Reformation generally, and
finds the bad preponderating immensely.
Liberty and liberality were silently
working their way ; their career was
suddenly checked by the austerity of the
Reformers, and wars and contentions
followed for a century and a half— solely
in consequence of the Reformation.

German poetry did not revive again
till the last century ; but so numerous

have been the poets since that period,
that, to speak of them at all, it has been
necessary to distribute them into groups
— the Swiss — Saxon — Hamburgh — Ber-
lin—Gottingen— Vienna. Of the lead-
ing poets, Mr. T. has given biographical
sketches and critical estimates, confirm-
ing his opinions by specimens of consi-
derable length. The second and third
volumes are almost wholly occupied
with Wieland, Herder, Kotzebue, Schil-
ler, and Goethe. Many of the transla-
tions are executed with spirit and vigour,
and furnish ample proofs of the author's
powers of discrimination, and compe-
tency for the task he undertook.

Tlie Temple of Melekartha. 3 vols.
12mo. — The aim of the writer of this
somewhat singular performance is to
trace the effects upon communities of
some of the principal forms of supersti-
tious and fanatic feeling ; but to avoid
offence, the details are thrown into ages
and scenes beyond the pale of all histo-
rical authority. The consequence is, the
mind has no recognized events to rest
upon, and the reader too often does not
know where he is, nor what he is about.
He is lost in a fog, and the gleams of
sunshine are few and far between.
Though the book takes the form of a
tale, it scarcely furnishes a thread to
lead him securely through the mazes of
it. Nevertheles's there is much vigour
of thought in the performance, and
force and felicity of expression— enough
to arrest often the reader's attention ;
while the writer's powers of description
are of no ordinary cast, and his purpose
of the most commendable kind.

The Temple of Melekartha is sup-
posed to be at Old Tyre, at some remote
period— in the days of its magnificence,
when its merchants were princes. It
is dedicated to Moloch, whose thirst for
blood was insatiable, and the horrid
worship, full of cruelty and impurity, is
minutely analysed. By and by the
country is desolated by the plague, and
the chief priest, on being consulted, de-
mands in the name of the Deity the
blood of seventy youths to appease his
supposed wrath. *The monarch, a man
of some sense and humanity, makes a
stand against these barbarities, and find-
ing the plague ceasing its devastations,
instead of complying, ventures upon the
bold measure of banishing the priests
in a body. In their exile they stir up
some mighty conqueror to invade the
country, who defeats the armies of the
Tzidonians, and carries away twenty
thousand captives. By sea, the Tzido-
nians are more successful ; and though
Tyre itself is destroyed, the monarch
and his people get all their riches on
board, and migrate to some other dis-
tant land, to renew their old career of

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

337

splendour. Meanwhile the monarch
himself goes in search of the 20,000

pocritical in conduct. " Charles the
First was a good king, a very good king,

captives, and, after a long search, finds but he did not know how to govern by

them again devoted to the basest super-
stition, and under the control o*f the

a parliament," was a frequent remark
of his, with a complacent reference to

old priest's crafty agents. The career himself; while his grand maxim was,

of their fanaticism is largely described, according to Watson, that the king, who

and at equal length the monarch's exer- does not know how to dissemble, does not

tions to bring them back to the pale of know how to reign. Much of the royal

common sense. Among the questions pertinacity is attributed, and with ap-

that stirred up disunion and ill feeling parent reason, to latent insanity— three

among these devotees was that of dress.
The chief of the hierarchy wore a man-
tle, which was to be adopted generally ;
— but he was far away, and disputes
arose as to its shape and colour. It was
crimson, and square — scarlet and round-
ed— rounded and crimson — scarlet and

pretty unequivocal attacks are believed
to have occurred before the acknow-
ledged one of 17«8. " The lurking infir-
mity, indeed," says the writer, "'may
be traced in the review of his transac-
tions for many years, with parliament,
his ministers, and his eldest son — in his

with whom he had intercourse: — and in
his peculiar traits of dissimulation and

square. Each had their advocates, who jealousy of his power and prerogatives

fiercely contended for the correctness of — .his distrust and deception of those
their opinions. By and by rose up
quite a new sect, who affirmed the true

colour was purple, and the true shape finesse"— and, it may perhaps be added,

oblong; and the "cloak" became the in his fear of Mr. Pitt, and submission:

appellation of the new party, ranged in he had certainly no affection for him.

onen hostility against all the factions of The prince's extravagances and dis-

tne " mantle." Not content with these sipations — though attributed without

divisions, new differences soon arose, scruple to the miserable domestic ma-

which split each faction into two — and nagement of the king, who reined up

that upon the principle on which these
several dogmas should be maintained —
whether, on the one hand, on the ground
of historical evidence and matter of fact ;
or, on the other, on that of reason, ana-
logy, and symbolical fitness. The most

the youth, till he took the bit in his
mouth and ran his own mad course — •
are repeatedly palliated, but not immo-
derately, while the sharpest censure is
cast upon his manifest disposition to
sacrifice all to selfish gratifications.

virulent animosities ensued ; — but the Among his early liaisons, Mrs. liobinson

reader sees what the author has in his
eye — not any attack upon religion —
quite the contrary — but upon the selfish
interests of its professors and would-be

of course figures — her romance is de-
servedly laughed at, but in throwing
her off, and shrinking from the fulfil-
ment of his engagements, he shewed

controllers of opinion — upon all who precisely the same sort of cold and cal-

mistake the forms for the essence. But
Swift is matchless in this department.

lous feeling which characterized him
through life, and made the dismissal of
mistress, a wife, a companion, or a

Cabinet Library. Vol. II. The First friend, a matter of equal "indifference.

of George IV. -~ Though a determined His debts, his intrigues, his follies, his

partizan of Whiggism, the author has profligacies, his gaieties, fill perhaps too

thrown his heart— perhaps too much of conspicuous a place in the history— but

it — into the narrative, and produced a
spirited volume, that any body of any

what else was there to tell for three-
fourths of his life? The inglorious

party may read — except the last re- story is brought in this first 'volume
mains— now all but gone, for their oc- nearly to the year 1799.
cupation is gone, or going. — of the
" king's friends." They will be shocked

at every turn, for the author has lost

The Persian Adventurer, By J. B.
Frazer, Esq., Author of " A Tour to the

all respect for the " good old king," Himala Mountains,"" " Travels in Per-
and his magnanimous consort. The sia," §c. 3 vols. 12mo.— This is a sequel
story begins with the birth of the and the conclusion of the author's spi-

rited sketch of oriental scenes and man-
ners, commenced some time ago, under
the questionable name of Kuzzilbash.

J^d , • 1 A 1 /» 1 1_ „ * ^-1

prince, and involves the whole reign
of his father. In the writer's estimate,
George the Third was not the kind

father some are fond of representing Certainly the name of a book may justly
him ; but first an injudicious, and then be expected to convey some indication
a harsh one— partaking of the heredi-
tary jealousies of his grandfather and
great-grandfather towards their sons ;

of its contents ; and not one in a thou-
sand— strangers to the East — could di-
vine that Kuzzilbash was the appella-
— and" as to his kingly qualities, he tive of a red-cap Persian soldier. The

represents him— not without proof— as book in fact was mistaken for a cookery-
despotic in principle, and false and by- book by some bon-vwant, who took the

Series — VOL. XL No. 63.

2 X

338

Monthly Review of Literature.

[MARCH,

title for a new reading, or new spelling
rather, of Guzzle-book, and purchased
accordingly. The new title speaks in-
telligibly "enough, and Ismael's adven-
tures are prosecuted with un relaxed
vivacity through the rest of Nadir's tur-
bulent life to its violent close. Ismael
was soon again employed upon perilous
services by Nadir's brother, and espe-
cially upon a diplomatic one to a re-
volting chief, from whose dungeons he
escapes with life by all but a miracle-
becomes a favourite with Nadir himself
— is promoted to great honour, and ac-
companies him in his invasion of Hin-
dostan. On his return, in a moment of
excitement, he is flung from the heights
of favour to the abysses of disgrace.
After new adventures and distant roam-
i igs he returns again to the capital of
Persia— meets with an old and staunch
friend, who has, in his absence, pro-
tected his family — rescues, in an acci-
dental encounter, the Shah s nephew —
ventures at his urgency, into the pre-
sence of Nadir — is restored again to the
light of his countenance, and is finally
again destined to destruction along with
the rest of the veteran Kuzzilbashes, by
the savage and insane projects of ven-
geance of the Shah, which at last seal his
own doom. Under a grandson of Nadir,
Ismael continues in command of his na-
tive province, and appears to be grow-
ing old in comparative calm and secu-
rity.

The animation of the eventful story
never flags; and the writer's personal
knowledge of many or most of the coun-
tries in which his hero's adventures are
cast, with his perfect familiarity with
oriental manners, gives life and reality
to the piece, and prompts the reader to
proceed with full confidence as to its
general truth and resemblance. Nadir
is, however, the chief object of interest,
and his career— east and west — is ad-
mirably traced, and especially his moral
degeneracy from some magnanimity and
rough-hewn justice to a despotism which
scarcely distinguished friends from foes
— from occasional bursts and caprices
which hazarded the safety of his fa-
vourites, to an habitual and brutal fe-
rocity which finally became intolerable
to the lowest slaves. Nadir, in short,
so much reminds the reader of Napo-
leon, that we are half afraid the author
has had him too much in his eye. Na-
poleon, at all events, in similar scenes,
and similar institutions, with his fiery
vehemence and overbearing tempera-
ment, would have been precisely the
man — he was the Nadir of the West.
One of the most striking portions of the
book is the invasion of Hindostan. The
occupation of Dehlee (Delhi), the tumult
of -the populace, and the consequent car-
nage—a piece of cool and tiger-like ven-

geance— are capital pictures, painted to
the life with an energy and fidelity wor-
thy of the author's pencil.

American Tales for Little Boys and
Girls. Selected by Miss Mitford. 3 small
volumes. — lleally this is an admirable
collection of little tales adapted in the
cleverest manner for the ready compre-
hension of the earliest age. Miss Mit-
ford has been as successful in her re-
searches in favour of little boys and
girls as she was for their elders. The
aim of all the stories is the correction of
faults and foibles, enforced on the prac-
tical ground of experience. The incon-
veniences attending their peccadillos
operate as the main inducement for
amendment. The point of duty is first
inculcated, and care is taken to mark
the consequences of disobedience— the
natural penalties of neglect, obstinacy,
or levity — of disregarding the advice of
those more experienced than them-
selves. Parents and teachers also may
gather excellent hints — the indirect
lesson can scarcely fail sometimes to
tell. The difference between these lit-
tle books and Miss Edgeworth's stories
consists in the care that is taken to im-
press religious sanctions. The incidents
are all of them exceedingly natural, and
managed with great tact and skill. The
good sense that governs the whole is
beyond all praise.

The Art of Miniature Painting on Ivory.
By Arthur Parsey, Professor of Miniature
Painting and Perspective. — We have cer-
tainly not put these principles to the
test of experience : but they appear to
us calculated to do all that a book can
do, which is probably, in these matters,
at the very best, but little, both in
directing towards right and warning
against wrong. The writer is no writer
—his language is full of slip-slop ; but
he has obviously considered his subject,
and does not, in the common spirit of
quackery, promise miracles, nor does he
hold out — which would be one — perfec-
tion as mechanically attainable. Labour
and study are not depreciated, but en-
forced ; drawing must go before colour-
ing, and is of incomparably greater im-
portance. In the natural order of things
we must walk before we can run ; and
in spite of all that teaching can do,
more will be "accomplished by study
than acquired by instruction— which is
probably true, be the pursuit what it
may.

Freedom of hand is likely to be pro-
moted by geometrical figure-drawing,
which is probably a questionable mat-
ter. The pencil is to be held as a
schoolmaster holds a pen, that is, ac-
cording to Mr. Langfora, author of "The
Beauties of Penmanship," so as to slope
his writing at an angle of 54 degrees to

1831.]

Domestic cind Foreign.

339

a second. But why ? Mr. Parsey de-
monstrates thus : — " Noticing," says he,
" the angle of other eminent penmen to
differ, I was induced to endeavour to
demonstrate it, and after considerable
patience, I discovered, that if the indi-
vidual sits directly before the paper —
rests half the arm, from the wrist to the
elbow, on the table— rests on the points
of the third and little finger, the middle
finger straight, the thumb embracing
the pen near the nail — the pen passing
through the middle of the first joint of
the fore-finger, and the wrist kept an
inch off the table — on extending the
pen and drawing it to the point of ra-
dius, the down stroke produced an angle
of 54 ; the angle of the pen, before ex-
tended from the point of radius, 65
degrees — this demonstrated that 54
degrees is the true slope of writing," &c.
Mr. Parsey piques himself upon his
use of the scraper — " It is," he says, in
terms we do not quite comprehend,
" new, and while it adds a lustre to
miniature painting, I trust the connect-
ing idea on oil painting may give a re-
putation to British works, which the
talent of this country is fully too com-
petent to merit." We leave the matter,
to the craft.

The History and Antiquities of the Doric
Race, by C. O. Mutter, Professor in the
University of Gottingen, translated by
Messrs. Tuffnel and Lewis ,- 2 vols.,
tivo. — Professor Miiller's History of the
Dorians has fallen into our hands too
late to enable us to communicate with
any accuracy the learned writer's gene-
ral views, or to present specifically the
results of his researches. They are
often, we are aware, unexpectedly suc-
cessful. We can only congratulate the
public on a translation which has been
executed by competent persons, and
which has had also the singular good-
fortune of being revised by the author
himself. His corrections, it is stated,
are of so extensive a kind as to make
the work rather a new edition, or even
a re-construction, than a mere transla-
tion. The history before us, is a por-
tion only of a more considerable work,
entitled, or to be entitled, the Histories
of Greek Tribes and Cities — forming
the second and third volumes, but still
sufficiently detached from the general
fabric to be read as a separate perform-
ance of a perfectly distinct work. It
contains the whole history of the Dorians
— traced as far back as the eagle glance
of the writer could penetrate the chaos
of mythology and tradition, and blun-
der— a confusion worse confounded by
legions of poets, who one after another
have substituted their own imaginings
for facts, with a caprice and a wanton,
ness that baffle sagacity, and defy re

ga
cli

duction. The Olympus of Thessaly
must be, for want of further materials,
—regarded as the aboriginal seat of the
Dorians of history. The chief events
of their early story, are their emigra-
tion to Crete— tha't of a part of them
only, of course — before the days of
Minos, who himself proves to have
been a Dorian ; and their irruption into
the Peloponnesus, in conjunction with
the Heraclidae, if indeed they were not
alike Dorians. The author seems to re-
rd the hereditary claim of the Hera-
idae to the sovereignty of Argos, or
perhaps of the whole of the Pelopon-
nesus, as all moonshine, and, of course,
the grand " Return," of the said Hera-
clidse, as " signifying nothing." Del-
phi was early in the hands of the Dori-
ans — apparently they must be regarded
as the institutors of the oracle of Apollo,
through which they influenced the for-
tunes of Greece for ages. Our recol-
lection of Miiller's work is most alive
as to the part connected with the wor-
ship of Apollo, who superseded, or took
the lead of all other forms and objects
of religious reverence, wherever the.
Dorians spread their conquests, or ob-
tained a predominant influence. The
second volume is filled in a very inte-
resting and satisfactory manner, with
inquiries into the political and domestic
institutions of the Spartans, who be-
came finally the chiefs and representa-
tives of the Dorian race. The ancient
poets are, by most people, young and
old, read with as little reference to facts,
and realities as fairy tales. Such re-
searches as Miiller's are calculated to
throw a new interest upon them — and
are likely to elicit more from them than
they were thought to contain.

Tales of a Grandfather — France. By
Sir W. Scott, Bart. 3 vols. — We can
have no wish to depreciate any effort
that Sir Walter Scott thinks it worth
his while to make; but it is scarcely
within the allowable limits of literary
manoeuvre to mark a consecutive narra-
tive of facts— a common school history,
with the name of " Tales of a Grand-
father." However, the first portion of
his Scotch history might be fairly cha-
racterized by the term ; the production
before us has not the slightest claim to
so attractive a title. It is mere trickery
contrived in the spirit of trade — to take.
There is no attempt at insulation — it is
simply a continuous series of French
history, with something more of detail
than usually enters into school epitomes
— a succession of facts, without any sift-
ing of motives, or balancing of evidence.
The stream of the narrative flows on un-
interruptedly — gently, smilingly, grace-
fully — yet with an animation that never
; but we cannot but regret that
2X2

340

Fine Arts' Publications.

his powers — his best and ripest powers —
are spent upon matters, which a score
of ladies might be named in a moment
able to accomplish to the full as effec-
tively. The present portion brings the
history to the pacification of the fac-
tions of Burgundy and Orleans, in the
reign of the insane Charles VI. — a pe-
riod which corresponds with the acces-

[MARCH,

si on of our Henry V. Henry's inva-
sion of France, and its effects, will form
a conspicuous portion of the next series.
Sir Walter delights to dwell upon Eng-
lish affairs ; and throughout, indeed,
France is made a subject of subordinate
interest to England. He is obviously
no Frenchman. The book is not writ-
ten in or for the latitude of Paris.

FINE ARTS' PUBLICATIONS.

Time's Telescope, for 1831, the "parent
of the annuals," made its appearance
somewhat later than the rest of them,
but it may still be considered a " com-
plete guide to the almanack." It is the
eighteenth volume, and assumes a very
different form to that of its predecessors.
Its red-letter information is satisfactory,
but somewhat more elaborate than might
be. There are many who would have
put up with a briefer register of the
saints' days and holidays, and a less
abstruse record of astronomical occur-
rences. But the sketches of biography,
and the poetical beauties scattered libe-
rally through the pages, are not so
easily to be spared. To these advan-
tages, engravings and wood-cuts are
addded, of a more than passable charac-
ter, so that Time's Telescope forms a vo-
lume that will be as acceptable to the
advocates of utility as to the cultivators
of the ornamental.

The Dutch Girl is a very beautiful
print, from a picture every way worthy
of it. Mr. Newton's exquisite design
is here brilliantly given in a line engrav-
ing, by George T. Doo. It forms a
companion to the Forsaken, by the
same artist, and evinces the fine' taste,
delicacy, and truth for which most of
his productions are distinguished. The
fault of it is, that it is almost too beau-
tiful to be Dutch. The face is emi-
nently lovely, and the costume adds
to the whole form a character of
perfect grace and simplicity. There
appears some little want of correctness
in the hand that is putting back the
curtain, but it is not observed in the
general beauty of the figure.

The Pointer, a companion to the Spaniel,
is from a picture bv M. T. Ward, R.A.
The engraving, wnich was commenced
by John Scott, and finished by Webb,
is a bright and spirited delineation of
the dog, and will find favour, we think,
in other eyes, besides those of sports-
men.

Richard Coeur de Lion and Saladin is a
fine mezzotint, by W. Giller, from Coo-
per's bold and animated design. It is
full of the life and energy that should
characterise such a subject,

The Characteristic Sketches of Animals^
drawn and engraved by Thomas Landseer^
will form a most important addition to
the stock of zoological illustrations. The
drawings, from life, are exceedingly
spirited and natural, and the execution
is the work of a hand that knows how to
exhibit the power and delicacy of its
own designs with appropriate effect. In
the part before us, the Lion and the
Polar Bear eclipse all their predecessors
in art that we have seen ; and the vig-
nette of the monkeys retreating from
the Jaguar is inimitably grotesque.

The ludicrous effect of this vignette
forms a very becoming introduction to
the next work which we have to notice
— a third sample of George Cruik-
shank's Scraps and Sketches. Here are
at least fifty new proofs that Mr. Cruik-
shank has not even the shadow of a rival
in the whole world, . and that that world
is immensely indebted to him. Care
comes not near him. We forget such
things as the national debt, amidst the
whims and wonders that are here con-
gregated. We can even give a humoured
glance at the fogs, and regard the want
of daylight and sunshine with a compla-
cent spirit, while a candle remains to
light us to such regions of humour as
are here opened to us. The first set of
scraps presents some tea-kettles singing
in the most animated strain, and a num-
ber of the pleasantest pairs of bellows
possible, all turned into humanities, and
assuming various characters. The fat
people are almost as facetious as the
bellows. The view of an African set-
tlement, all tombs and monuments, is
satirically conceived ; and the Nobodies
are worthy of their associates in this
irresistible assemblage.

We turn now to an amusing little col-
lection of Caricatures which have appeared
in Paris since the late Revolution. The
object is said to be to present " the
means of judging how far our sprightly
neighbours are likely to succeed in a
species of satire, that until now they
have had but little opportunity of prac-
tising." There are twenty-four of these
caricatures, all devoted to Charles and
his family, and most of them full of

1831.]

Fine Arts' Publications.

341

point and pun. The face of the ex-king
presents a fair subject, and is made the
most of, in many ingenious shapes.
They have, of course, been popular
enough in Paris; and, next to Paris,
they ought to be most popular in Lon-
don. The interest of them is not likely
to die away.

We must not forget to notice three
portraits of the female nobility, that are
lying before us, forming three graces
as fascinating as any that fiction ever
gave birth to, and certainly not less
fascinating for being likenesses of living
beauties. These prints form the embel-
lishments of the three numbers of La
Belle Assemblie^ that have appeared this
year ; and are well entitled to be admit-
ted into the Portrait Gallery of illus-
trious females that distinguishes that
work. The first is the Princess Ester-
hazy, by Dean, a very sweet engraving,
exhibiting a style of beauty not to be
resisted — a mixture of voluptuousness
and sentiment. The next is a portrait
of Lady Durham, daughter of Earl
Grey ; it is touched with all the charm
of Lawrence's pencil, and is doubly in-
teresting for its resemblance, in charac-
ter and general expression, to the pre-
mier. The third, embellishing the
number for March, is a portrait of the
Dowager Countess of Errol; this is
engraved by Dean, and forms an attrac-
tive picture — the black veil thrown
gracefully over the head and shoulders,
and the open volume, adding an air of
pensiveness to the general interest of
the features, and giving sentiment to
the rich expression of the eyes.

BRITISH INSTITUTION".

A few bright mornings at this season
of the year are invaluable for many
reasons ; and for none more than for the
opportunities which they present to the
lover of art, and to the admirer of beau-
ties of all kinds, for visiting the British
Institution. Beauties he will here
meet, and colours that burst upon the
eye with the brilliancy of an artificial
summer, and look like a satire upon the
climate. He will also find, what indeed
he has but too much reason to expect,
a sufficient number of anti-beautiful
objects to relieve him from all danger of
being cloyed by a feast of sweets, and
to make him seize upon what is really
delightful with a double relish. We
shall begin with the first, which is cer-
tainly not the fairest, in the collection.
It grieves us to differ with such a per-
sonage as the President of any Royal
Academy in existence ; but we must
confess that Sir Martin Archer Shee's
Lavinia is a very different being from
our beau ideal of Thomson's " lovely,
young Lavinia."

Next follows an admirable group of

terriers and other doge, who are pre-
vented from " supping their parritch
o'er hot," by the warning finger of a
Scotch boy, who seems to take pride in
presiding at such a mess. A glance at
the fidelity to nature, and the clearness
of colour and tone, was sufficient to make
us regard the name of Edwin Landseer
in the catalogue as superfluous. We
have to congratulate him on his lately
and justly attained honours. We wish
he had not sent 25. It is evidently a
hurried production, and quite foreign
to his usual choice of subject. Nothing
can be more felicitous than his Two
Dogs, 248. Whitechapel never pro-
duced a more finished specimen of its
" low life" than the ugly, vulgar-looking
animal, who sits in 'the back kitchen,
surrounded by the evidences of his mas-
ter's habits: the pipe, the porter-pot,
shabby hat, and greasy top-boots, are
all in admirable keeping. The contrast
is delightful. The gentle face and ele-
gant form of the other, harmonize well
with the rug on which he is reposing, in
the chamber of a baronial castle. They
are both clever dogs, and tell their
stories well. The Highland Cradle,
283, and Highland Game, 289, by the
same hand, are pictures not to be hastily
passed.

Roberts has given a finely painted
interior, 12.

Collins's Nutting Party, 29, is spark-
ling and natural, but the boy on the
left hand has the face of an old man.

Copley Fielding's 30, and 478, are
spirited and masterly sketches.

Mr. Boxall has a very beautiful female
head, illustrative of a no less beautiful
line of Shakspeare, misquoted in the
catalogue, " A quest of thoughts, all
tenants of the heart." The feeling
and sentiment of this picture are de-
lightful ; and the whole arrangement of
it exquisitely tasteful.

Mr. J. Wood's Affectionate Sisters,
charms both the eye and the heart. It
is a very lovely composition. There are
two other pictures by the same artist,
equally creditable to his taste and feel-
ing. One of these, " The Orphans,"
was engraved for one of the annuals.

Stump's 73, is well painted, but badly
named, if he means it for the Sir Edward
Mortimer of Colman — the Falkland of
Godwin.

It was considerate of Mr. Liverseege
to print in large letters, beneath 80,
" Captain Mackheath," for who could
have guessed that a man with musta-
chios, and lip a la Henri Quatre, in a
pair of most exemplary life-guard boots,
could be mistaken for Gay's hero. Be-
sides, even in Newgate, Macheath was
too much of a gentleman to drink his
wine out of an ale-glass. Had the fet-
ters been omitted, and the picture

342

Fine Arts' Publications.

[MARCH,

called Serjeant Bothwell, it might have
had more pretensions to character.

76 and 82 are gorgeous specimens of
colouring, in Etty's best style.

Clint has sent only one picture, 95.
He has been happy in his subject, and
it is handled with peculiar care and
attention. The arch face of Mistress
Ford, looking as full of innocent fun as
any " wife," be she ever so " merry,"
ought to look, the ponderous and luxu-
rious Jack, lifting the arras — the ela-
borately carved wainscoat — the rush
matting — all are touched with something
of the spirit of a Zoffany.

Webster has three pictures ; we select
his very humorous illustration of the
late political panacea, The Catholic
Question, 113. It is an admirable bit
of mischief, almost Hogarthian in its
composition.

11G, Country Gossip. Tennant seems
to have caught some of the brilliancy of
Cuvp ; the cattle, the heibage, and the
rolling off of the morning mist, are ably
depicted.

161 and 164. Walnuts and Filberts,
by Oliver, might be considered, even by
such a critic as Lord Norbury, as crack
productions.

The Signal, 171, Parker, possesses
considerable merit ; a little more atmo-
sphere to separate the fore-ground from
the rest, would have improved it.

172, Uvvins, a singular and well ma-
naged eifect.

186, The Truant, Good, is uncom-
monly good. Heaven keep the rising
generation from the cane of such a
domine! The schoolmaster is not
" abroad" here.

Singleton's Richard's Dream, 189, is
frightful enough to scare a conscience
less troubled than the usurper's.

Knight's Pedlar, 215, has many clever
points, but is unequal in its finish.

228 and 481, Mexican women, fry
Boaden, are striking pictures, in this
young artist's best manner—novel, in-
teresting, and picturesque.

Lance has nearly outdone his former
efforts. The Royal Wine Cooler, 250,
although a most imposing and elaborate
picture, does not please us so much as
the Casket, 489. How sparkling and
brilliant the gems ! how delicate and
rotund the pearls ! Nothing can exceed
the exquisite group of blossoms, leaves,
and fruit, 270, or the finish and truth
of his " Fruit Piece," 353. We saw
ladies longing for a slice of a most par-
ticularly attractive pine, that appeared
as though it were offering itself to be

snatched, and only waited to be carried
away.

447. Mount St. Michael, is from the
pencil of Stanfield. The transparency
and agitation of the water, and those
peculiar tints we invariably find " in
shore," the spirited action of the figures,
the sharpness of the architecture, the
aerial effect that pervades the more dis-
tant points of this very singular and
interesting rock, are all worthv of the
painter in his most inspired mood.

There are two pictures, by A. Hen-
ning, which we cannot permit ourselves
to pass over — one is an old Sjotch con.
noisseur in Whiskey, evidently from
life ; and the other, a bolder and equally
masterly attempt, presents a very Shak-
spearian group in the persons of Old
Jack and his Eastcheap companions.
Undepictable as Falstaff is, and difficult
as it may be to approach even within the
shadow of his immortal shoe-tie, this is
a composition which those who know the
subject best will relish most ; the glori-
ous knight, as he sits here, is worthy to
be the centre of such a circle of humour.
It is excellent both in character and
colouring.

We had marked several pictures for
notice, which we must now content our-
selves with bringing within a more
restricted compass : such as, 1 0, Going
to Mass, Hart. 57, by Hilditch. 74,
a sweet bit of English scenery, Chalon.
87, a touching picture, by Bridges.
142, The 'Fair Day. 153, Greenwich
Hall. 1C6, by llogers. 302, The Bitter
Morning, by Buss, 304, Reingale. 347
and 529, by Brockedon. 355, Burgess.
Windsor, sweetly painted, bv Naysmith,
439. Dean's Rotterdam, '441. Chis-
holmes, 448. A magnificent cascade at
Cader Idris, 494, by Lewis. 527, by
Harriott ; and 546, The Forecastle of a
Leith Smack.

Why the eye should be distracted,
and the taste offended, by the exhibi-
tion of such pictures, for instance, as
Nos. 56, 58, 63, 416, 518, and 542, we
cannot conveniently imagine. Surely
bare Avails, or an occasional blank space,
would be better than bad pictures.

From the few pieces ojfc' sculpture, we
select for notice Carew^s Falconer, as a
noble conception, executed with consi.
derable felicity.

Looking at it generally, the collection
may be pronounced a gratifying one.
It is an evidence of the gradual im-
provement of the art; and will, we
trust, be the means of calling forth an
additional proof of a growing disposition
to cherish and advance it.

1831.]

[ 343 ]

WORKS IN THE PllESS AND NEW PUBLICATIONS.

WORKS IN THE PRESS.

By Thomas Keightley, A.B. : A work,
embellished with Etchings from the
Antique, on the Mythology of Greece
and Italy.

By the Author of Marriage : A tale,
entitled Destiny ; or, the Chiefs Daugh-
ter.

The Poetical Works of Charles B.
Ash, of Adbaston.

By Robert Montgomery: A Poem,
to be Illustrated with Views, entitled
" Oxford."

By George Lindley, Edited by
John Lindley, F.R.S. : A Guide to the
Fruit and Kitchen Garden ; furnishing
an Account of all the most valuable
Fruits and Vegetables cultivated in
Great Britain.

By Mr. Carne, Author of Letters
from the East, &c. :— the Lives of Cele-
brated Missionaries.

An Essay by the late Thomas Hope,
Esq., Author of " Anastasius," &c., on
the Origin and Prospects of Man. The
work will extend to three volumes.

By the Editor of Madame du Deffand's
Letters : A Volume, entitled Social Life
in England and France, from the French
Revolution of 1789 to that of 1830.

Cases of Lithotrity ; or, Examples of
Cures obtained of the Stone without
Cutting; followed by a description of
the first Symptoms of this Disease. By
Le Baron Heurteloup, Doctor of the
Faculty of Medicine of Paris.

The Young Muscovite ; or, the Poles
in Russia. A Russian Novel. In 3 vols.
Post 8vo.

Two Volumes, consisting of Tales,
Poems, and Sketches of Character. By
various distinguished writers. Edited
by the Authors of the Odd Volume.

By Major Keppel : The Narrative of
his Journey Across the Balcan, exhibit-
ing the present state and resources of
the Ottoman Dominions.

By the Author of Vivian Grey : A
Novel, entitled the Young Duke.

By Sir Arthur Brooke : A Narrative
of his Tour in Spain and Barbary.

By the Author of the O'Hara Family :
A Tale, called The Smuggler.

By Captain Beechey, R.N. : A Nar-
rative of his Voyage to the Pacific.

LIST OF NEW WORKS.

BIOGRAPHY AND HISTORY.

The Life of the Right Rev. T. Fan-
shaw Middleton,«D.D., late Lord Bishop
of Calcutta. By the Rev. Charles W.
Le Bass. 2 vols. 8vo. 26s.

Lives of the Italian Poets. By the
Rev. Henry Stebbing. 3 vols. Post
8vo. £1. 11s Gd.

The Lives of Uneducated Poets. By
Robert Southey, Esq. 8vo. 10s. Gd.

Cunninghain's Lives of Painters, &c,
Vol. IV. 5s.

Dr. Lardner's Cabinet Library,
Vol. II. Life and Reign of George the
Fourth. 5s.

Four Days at Brussels. Bv General
Van Halen. 4s. Gd.

Muller's Dorians, translated from the
German by Henry Tufnel, Esq., and
George C. Lewis, Esq. 2 vols. 8vo.
30s.

Narrative of the Naval Operations
in Ava, during the Burmese War, in
the Year 1824. By John Marshall,
tfvo. ,6s.

Dr. Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia.
Vol. XV. History of France, Vol. II.
6s.

The Sheriffs of Shropshire, with
Notices, Genealogical and Biographical.
By the late Rev. J. B. Blakeway.
1 vol. Folio. £2. 2s. boards; large
paper, £3. 3s.

A Historical and Descriptive Guide
to the Town of Wimborne-Minster, &c.
&c. By Rev. Peter Hall. 12s.

EDUCATION.

Examples in Algebra. By the Rev.
W. Foster. 8vo. 4s.

A Key to the Elements of Algebra.
By Alexander Jamieson. 8vo. 8s.

Chronological and Genealogical Maps
and Tables for the Use of Harrow
School. 4to. 8s. 6d.

Guy's Geographia Antigua. 8vo. 4s.

Valpy's Classical Library, No. XIV.
Tacitus. Vol. IV. 4s. 6d.

Rowbotham's Lessons in French
Literature. l2mo. 6s.

The Elements of Greek Accentuation.
From the German of Dr. K. Goettling.
8vo. 5s.

The Elements of Greek Prosody.
From the German of Dr. F. SpitzneV.
8vo. 6s.

A German Grammar on a New Prin-
ciple. By C. F. Becker, M.D. 8vo.
8s. Gd.

Herodotus, Book I. to VI., with Eng-
lish Notes. .By the Rev. C. Stacker.
8vo. 9s. Gd.

Xenophon's Memorabilia, in Greek
and English, interlinear. I2mo. 2s. Gd.

The Battle of Cressy and Poictiers,
in French and English, interlinear. By
Sismondi. 2s. 6d.

MEDICAL.

Steggall's Manual for Apothecaries'
Hall. 7s. 6d.

344

Lift of New Works.

The Medical Annual for 1031. By
Dr. Reese. Royal 8vo. 5s.

St. John Long's Discoveries. 8vo.
7s. 6d.

A Manual of Analytical Chymistry.
By Henry Rose, from the German, by
John Gri'ffin. 8vo. 16s.

The Effects of the principal Arts,
Trades, and Professions, on Health and
Longevity, &c. By C. Turner Thack-
rah. 8vo. 3s. 6d.

Change of Air ; or, the Pursuit of
Health ; an Excursion through France,
Switzerland, &c. in 1829. By James
Johnson, M.D, 8vo. 8s. 6d.

MISCELLANEOUS.

The Royal Register, being a trans-
lation of the Almanack de Gotha. By
P. J. Burke. 8s.

The Official Kalendar for 1831. By
John Burke. 8vo. 5s. 6d.

American Almanack for 1831. 5s.

Stories from the History of Italy.
By Anne Manning. I2mo. 7s. 6d.

The Book of the Seasons, or the Ca-
lendar of Nature. By Wm. Howitt.
12mo. 10s. 6d.

Smallwood's Architectural Sketches,
No. 1. royal 4to. 2s. 6d.

Lawrence's Complete Cattle-Keeper.
12mo. 4s.

Practical Points in Conveyancing,
from Rutter and Co. By C. Barton.
8vo. 16s.

Deacon's Digest of the Criminal Law
of England, &c. 2 vols. £2. 15s.

Trials before the High Court of Jus-
ticiary in Scotland. By R. Pitcairn.
Part VIII. 4to. 15s. sewed.

A Topographical Dictionary of Lon-
don and its Environs ; containing Des-
criptive Accounts of all the Public
and Private Buildings, Docks, Squares,
Streets, &c. By James Elmes, Archi-
tect. 8vo. 12s.

An Essay on the Distribution of
Wealth, and on the Sources of Taxation.
Part I., Rent. By the Rev. R. Jones.
8vo. 7s. 6d.

Great Britain's Crisis ! A Letter to
the Right Hon. Sir James Graham.
8vo. 2s.

Extraordinary Black Book. 8vo. 14s.

The Affair at Charlton Holt; con-
taining some English Opinions, some
French Politics, and some Chinese Laws,
I2mo. 4s. 6d.

The Select Library, Vol. I. ; being
Vol. I. of an improved edition of Poly-
nesian Researches. By William Ellis,
sm. 8vo. 6s.

Thoughts on Man, his Nature, Pro-
ductions, and Discoveries. By William
Godwin.

By Mr. Selby, Land Birds, now com-
pleted, plain plates, £13. 10s.

NOVELS AND TALES.

The Incognito ; or, Sins and Pecca-
dillos. A Spanish Story. By the Au-
thor of " The Castilian," &c. &c. 3 vols.
27s.

The Navy at Home. 3 vols. 12mo.
21s.

Pen Tamar : or, the History of an
Old Maid. A Tale. By the late Mrs.
H. M. Bowdler. 8vo. 10s. 6d.

Novelist's National Library, Vol. I.
The Spy Complete. 12mo. 6s.

POETRY.

The Iliad of Homer. Translated by
Wm. Sotheby, Esq. 2 vols. 8vo.

Songs of Solitude. By Wm. Bennett.
12mo. 5s.

The Siamese Twins, a Satirical Tale
of the Times. By the author of «« Pel-
ham." 8vo. 14s.

Riddle's Songs of the Ark. 12mo.
7s Gd.

The Sisters, a Scottish Legend, and
other Poems. By M. A. Roberts.
12mo. 4s. 6d.

Edwin, or Northumbria's Royal Fugi-
tive Restored. 12mo. 5s.

RELIGION, MORALS, &C.

Bishop Van Mildert's Sermons. 2 vols.
8vo. 24s.

Bishop Andrews' Sixteen Sermons on
the Fasts and Festivals. 8vo. 10s. 6d.

Bishop Bloomfield's Manual of Fa-
mily Prayers. 8vo. 4s. 6d.

Discourses to Seamen, by the Rev.
W. Scoresby. 12s. 6d.

The Brazen Serpent ; or Life coming
through Death. By Thomas Erskine,
Esq., Advocate. 12mo. 2s. 6d.

National Library, No.VL, comprising
the Second and concluding Volume of
the History of the Bible. 5s.

Faith in Christ, of which the Genuine
Fruit is Righteousness or Morality.
12mo. 2s. 6d.

The Nature, Reality, and Efficacy of
the Atonement. By Daniel Dewar,
LL.D. 18mo. 7s. 6d.

Agapze, or the Sacred Love-Pledge.
By Mrs. Mac Lachland. 12mo. 10s. 6d.

A Treatise on the Nature and Causes
of Doubt in Religious Questions. 12mo.
5s.

A Familiar Analysis of the Calendar
of the Church of England. By the Rev.
Hugh Martyndall. 12mp. 5s. 6d.

Sermons on the Mission, Character,
and Doctrines of Jesus of Nazareth.
By W. J. Fox. 2 vols. 12mo. 14s.

1831.]

[ 345 ]

PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.

New Patents sealed in February, 1831.

To Robert Winch,of Gunpowder-alley,
Size-lane, London, printers' joiner, for
certain improvements in printing ma-
chines.— January 29th ; 6 months.

To Joshua Bates, Esq., of Bishops-
gate-street Within, London, for certain
improvements in refining and clarifying
sugar.— January 31st ; G months.

To John Charles Schwieso, Regent-
street, Middlesex, musical instrument
maker, for certain improvements on
pianofortes and other stringed instru-
ments.— February 2d ; 6 months.

To William Sumner, of Hose, Leices-
ter, lace maker, for certain improve-
ments in machinery for making lace,
commonly called bobbin net. — February
3d ; 6 months.

To George Gorham, gardener, Thread-
needle-street, London, gentleman, for
an improved rolling machine. — Febru-
ary llth; 6 months.

To William Westley Richards, Bir-
mingham, Warwick, gun maker, for cer-
tain improvements in the touch-holes
and primers suitable to percussion guns,
pistols, and all sorts oi fire-arms fired
upon that principle. — February llth;
2 months.

To John Gunby, George-street, Sand
Pitts, Birmingham, artist, for an im-
proved method or methods of combining
glass with metals or other substances
applicable to various useful and orna-
mental purposes. — February llth ; 2
months.

To Claude Guillotte, Crispin-street,
Spitalfields, Middlesex, machine maker,
for an improvement in the rack, appli-
cable to the battons of looms or machi-
nery for weaving plain or figured rib-
bons.—February llth ; 6 months.
To William Morgan, Esq., York-

terrace, Regent's-park, for certain im-
provements in steam engines — Febru-
ary 14 ; 6 months.

To James Thomson, of Spencer-street,
Goswell-street-road, Middlesex, Gent.,
for certain improvements in making or
producing printing types. — Feb. 14th ;
6 months.

To Thomas Bailey, of Leicester,
framesmith, and Charles Bailey, of the
same place, framesmith, for certain im-
provements in machinery for making
lace, commonly called bobbin net — Feb.
15th ; 6 months.

To William Payne, of New Bond-
street, Middlesex, watch and clock
maker, for an improved pedometer for
the waistcoat pocket upon a new and
very simple construction,. — Feb. 15th ;
2 months.

List of Patents which having been granted
in the month of March, 1817, expire
in the present month of March , 1831.

I. William Henry Osborn, Acton,
Warwick, new method of producing cy-
linders.

— . Daniel Wilson, Dublin, gas light
apparatus and philosophical instruments.

II. Urbanus Sartoris, London, im-
proved fire-arms.

— •. William Baybould, London, im-
proved fire grates.

— . Ludwig Granholm, London, me-
thod of preserving animal and vegetable
products.

— William Panter, Bath, method of
facilitating rotatory motion.

18. John Winter, Bristol, method of
combining horn and tortoise-shell by heat
and pressure.

21. Daniel Wheeler, London, method
of drying and preparing malt.

MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.

WE enjoyed during nearly a week, those south-west and westerly breezes for
which we prayed in our last. They were of signal benefit to the crops, and consi-
derably efficient in bringing the heavy wet soils into a culturable state. Since,
however, the wind has taken its former course of constant and suddenly repeated
transitions from east to west, and north to south, with equal vicissitudes of tempe-
rature. Those changes have had rather an unfavourable effect upon the wheats,
particularly the latter sown and weak. The frost, for two days severe in the ex-
treme, immediately became mild, and deserted us no doubt for the present season ;
though in the north of Scotland it is reported to have been of two months' dura-
tion. The fall of snow was immensely great, during the short time it lasted, and
has been attended with much damase, and some loss of human life, both here and
in Ireland. The floods occasioned bv its melting have occasioned much loss in

M.M. New Sews.—VoL. XL No. 63. 2 Y

346 AgtfcutturU Report.

various parts. As to the benefits of the frost or snow, their continuance was too
short to be very productive, no great extent of carting or other operations having
been performed : the same with regard to the snow as a cover and defence of the corn,
it being generally driven up in vast wreaths by the wind, leaving part of the corn,
too often the late sown and backward, most in want of defence, almost entirely
•uncovered. The heavy lands have however received some benefit, and bean plant-
ing has been since proceeding with an expedition which shews the opinion in
favour of early sowing in the spring. The forward soils are prepared for oats and
barley, and a portion of the former are already in the soil. Seed barley is in great
demand, not only from the scarcity of that grain fit for seed, but on account of the
small quantity left in the hands of the farmers, from the peculiar circumstance of
its being so largely threshed for market, as from the stoppage of the machines, it
was not so practicable to obtain a timely supply of wheat. Thence the general
opinion that so much wheat being withheld will come in supply of the markets
towards the end of the season. One reason assigned for the great breadth of wheat
said to be sown, is the extensive failure of the turnip crop", those lands being in
consequence sown with wheat. The foul and neglected state of the lands is a
general topic, and we observe in print, the very wholesome advice, repeated how-
ever from authority more than three score years old, and even generally neglected,
to substitute hoeing cattle crops on heavy lands for summer fallows, as the only
means of clearing the soil ; the chief delect in this advice is, that all corn crops are
not included. On the coast of Kent particularly, they have wisely availed them-
selves of the late vast shoals of sprats, as a manure for their barley lands, the fish
being to be purchased at ninepence per bushel, and at such low price only, said to
be profitable, the manure being effective, but for one crop. Wheats are improving
in height and luxuriance, and the latter sown begin to make a figure, most upon
the light lands, which will probably win again in the present crop.

The general tone in the market* reports has been and continues, a moderate of
short supply of English wheat. Prices gradually advancing, and will probably
continue so for some months at least; for the foreign supply has been greatly
checked, not only by the short crops, but lay the existing troubles on the Conti-
nent. Live stock, fat and lean, advance in price in a similar ratio. The rot in
sheep has rather increased, at least spread to a greater extent, to the ruin of many
Hockmasters, and it is generally supposed that a great scarcity will be found in the
national flocks in succeeding years. Indeed thescarcity of mutton would havealready
been great in the market, but for the vast numbers of suspected sheep which have
been slaughtered. This may have operated as one material cause of the great rise
and demand of wool, of which the stocks in the country are said to be very low.
Pigs, both store and fat, have taken another start in price. Of horses nothing
Vorthy of report occurs ; the ordinary sort have been reduced nearly to the price
of former days, and the best kinds are somewhat lower than of late years. Little
is doing in hops, bating some speculations to no great extent.

We stated in our last that the troubles in the country had subsided, which is
correct, as far as regards insurrection and open violence; but we regret to say that
various instances of horrible and treacherous incendiarism subsequently took "place.
The unemployed labourers are said to be numerous, and even probably to increase,
a subject of great dismay in the country. In the richest counties they are yet
fully 'employed, at from 12s. to 14s. per week, in others at 9s. and 10s. Previously
to the troubles the majority of them were in a state of actual starvation ; and yet
we have seen letters which mainly attributed those troubles to the labourers fre-
quenting the new beer shops, and by their inordinate consumption, actually
reducing the stock of malt to a very low ebb. TUis is surely enigmatical, that
starving and pennyless labourers should possess the means of such an indul-
gence. From Dublin and various parts of Ireland, accounts of the deplorable state
of the poor, and- actual mortality in consequence, to a great extent, are truly
appalling.

Smithjield— Beef, 3s. 2d. to 4s. 6d.— Mutton, 3s, 4d. to 4s. 8d — Veal, 5s. to
6s. 2d.— Pork, 4s. 6d. to 5s. 4d.— Rough fat, 2s. lOd.

Com Evchange.— Wheat, 60s. to 86s — Barley, 30s. to 50s — Oats, 23s. to 34s—
London 4lb. loaf, 10£d — Hay, 40s. to 84s.— Clover ditto, 60s. to 105s.— Straw,
34s. to 42s.

Coal Exchange —Coals, 27s. to 3Gs. 3d. per chaldron.
Middlesex, Feb. 21^.

1831.] '[ 3^7 •]-

MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.

8 UG ATI.— West India Sugar was very heavy last week ; the stock isnow 23,853 hhds.,

being 1,901 less than last year. Mauritius is 27,073 bags, being 43,499 less than

last year. The market has rather a languid appearance, the trade being necessarily

engaged in valuing sugars. The refined market revived towards the close of

' last week, and large and small lumps were in particular demand ; the fine was dull,

• and prices a shade lower. Low goods continue in demand ; lumps are Is. higher

< than on Tuesday last. Fine goods dull. Molasses heavy at 22s. 6d. Foreign

Sugars— The only purchases are damaged parcels, which have sold at rather

better prices; Bahar, damaged, sold at • 12s. to 21s., the sound all taken in.

. Mauritius Sugars are not so brisk as usual ; the middling and good sugars went

off at 6<1. to Is. per cwt. lower, on account of the supplies being generally of good

and fine descriptions ; the low browns supported prices ; Siam sold at 21s. 6d. to

25s. fid. ; Java, nil taken in. Average price of Sugar 26s. 2£d. per cwt.

COFFEE — By private contract the sales have been very extensive, they consist
of nearly 5,000 "bays, Foreign and East India, at advancing prices; St. Domingo,
'36s. to 37s — Brazil, 3/s. to 39s — Sumatra. 28s. to 32s.— Batavia, 34s. to 36s.—
good Ceylon, 36s. — Brazil sold at 39s. (>d. ; the Mocha at former prices ; Jamaica,
63s. Gd. to 59s.

RUM, BHAXDY, HOLLANDS — The Spirit Market rather languid; yesterday
there was some briskness in trade on account of the rise of 3d. per gallon in British
spirits (now 11s. per gallon, and 11s. 3d. credit); some Leewards were sold at
Is. lid., and for proofs, 2s. 10. In Brandy and Geneva there is no alteration.

, HEMP, FLAX, TALLOW The Tallow Market is more firm on account of the

warlike appearance of Paris, and the facility given to the bonding here till
'October; the prices are a shade higher. In Hemp and Flax there is little altera-
tion, the advance in the former is firmly maintained.

• Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 1J. — Rotterdam, 12. 1|. — Ham-
burgh, 13. 11. Altona, 0. 0.— Paris, 25. 50._Bordeaux, 25. 55 — Frankfort,

151. 0. — Petersburg, 10. 0. — Vienna, 10. 0. — Trieste, 0. 0 — Madrid, 37.0. — Cadiz,
36. OJ.— Bilboa, 37. 04.— Barcelona, 36. 0.— Seville, 36. 0£.— Gibraltar, 47- 0±.—
Leghorn, 49. Of.— Genoa, 25. CO.— Venice, 46. 0.— Malta, 46. 0.— Naples, 39. 0.
—Palermo, 118. OJ.— Lisbon, 4G. 0.— Oporto, 46. 0£.— Rio Janeiro, 20. 0.— Bahia,
25. 0.— Dublin, 1. 0|.— Cork, 1. 0|.

Bullion per Oz.— Portugal Gold in Coin, £0. Os. Od.— Foreign Gold in Bars,
£3. 17s. lOJd.— New Doubloons, £0. Os. Od.— New Dollars, £0. Os. Od.— Silver in
'Bars (standard), £0. Os. Od.

Premiums on Shares and Canals, and Joint Stock Companies, at the Office of
WOLFE, Brothers, 23, Change Alley, Cornhill. — Birmingham CANAL, (| sh.) 270/. —
Coventry, OOO/.— Ellesmere and Chester, 75/.— Grand Junction, 245/ — Kennet and
Avon, 25f /.--Leeds and Liverpool, 395/.— Oxford, Oof—Regent's* 18£J. — Trent and
•Mersey, Q sh.) 620/. — Warwick and Birmingham, 2501. — London DOCKS (Stock)
G3/.— West India (Stock), 135/.— East London WATER WOIJKS, 118/.— Grand

Leeds, 195/.

ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BANKRUPTCIES,

Announced from January 23d to 23d February 1831, in the London Gazette.

. BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED. BANKRUPTCIES.

A. Lyon, and N. J. Culisher, Birmingham, jewel- [This Month 95.]

" ters. Solicitors'' Names are in Parentheses.

S. Webb, Reading, builder.

R. Bacon, Fenclmrch-street, tea-broker. Atkins, A., Gloucester, merchant. (Lews, Tem-

T. Brown, Weclnesburv, dealer. pie ; Tims, Hanbury.

J. Heane, Gloucester, brick-maker Auehteslony, J, R., Great Ormond street, dyer.

R. DaviM. Lisle-street, coal-merchant. (Beethains Freeman's-court.

G. Comlcy Ullev clothier Ansell, M. and A. Jacob. Lambeth-walk, jewel-

t lers. (Yatesand Co., B'-iry-street.

Alluutt, J., Chesham, paper-maker. (Richard-
son. Ironmonger-lane.
2 Y 2

348

List of Bankrupts.

Backler,S.,St. James's-street, tobacconist. (Bart-
lett and Co., Nicholas-lane.

Bretlierton, P. jun., Liverpool, dealer. (Black-
stock and Co., Temple.

Baugh, J., Middle Wallop, victualler. (Bous-
field, Chatham-place; Mann, Andover.

Broadley, J. and J. Watson, Oldliam, cotton-
spitmers. (Milne and Co., Temple; Skeltorn,
Oldham.

Bond, R., Plymouth, printer. (Blake, Essex-
street ; Prideaux, Plymouth.

Burt, T., Holborn-hill, manufacturer. (Hall,
Gt, James-street.

Brimicombe, W., Totness, plumber. (King and
Co., Gray's-Inn; Carey and Co., Bristol.

Benson, J. and J., Manchester, commission-
agents. (Adlington and Co., Bedford-row :
Mackintosh, Manchester.

Breeden, S., Birmingham, draper. (Holme and
Co., New-inn; Bartlett, Birmingham.

Brown, P., Farnham, upholder. (Teague, Law-
rence Pounteney-hill.

Baker, E., Bristol, gas-manufacturer. (Blower,
Lincoln's-inn-fields ; LemansandSon, Bristol.

Bindley, J. Sen., Ashby-de-la-Zouch, glue-ma-
nufacturer. (Austen and Co., Gray's-inn ;
Fisher, Ashby-de-ia-Zouch.

Bridge, J., King's-Lynn, builder. (Clowes and
Co. Temple ; Pitcher, King's-Lynn.

Cozens, J. L., Bedminster, Victualler. (King and
Co.,Gray's-inn; Whittaker, Frome.

Coulstock,*J., Reigate, miller. (Lutley and Son.
Dyer's-hall.

Coe, S., Shimpling, malster. (Walter, Symond's-
inn ; Wayman, Bury St. Edmunds.

Cook, W., Southwark-bridge-road, coachmaker.
(Smith, Gt. Eastcheap.

Collins, J. J., Islington, victualler. (Bowles,
King's Arm's-yard.

Coombs, S., St. Wolles, coal-merchant. (Platt and
Co., New Boswell-court ; Prothero and Co.
Newport.

Cameron, J., T. Johnson, and W. Bevan, Hen-
rietta-street, tailors, (Croft and Co., Bed-
ford-row.

Desormeaux, D., White Conduit-fields, chemist.
(Brooks, New-inn.

Delacour, T. C., London, diamond merchant.
(Swilt, Carey-street.

Dewy, J., Barton St. Mary, builder. (Fleming,
Soiithwark.

Etheridge, H.J.F., Broad-street, grocer. (Smith,
Dorset-street.

Ewington, W., Finsbury-square, wine-merchant.
(Wigley, Essex-street.

Fox, W., Great Driffield, tanner. (Williams,
Gray's-inn ; Foster, Great Driffield.

Fallows, W., Stafford, inn-keeper. (Clowes and
Co., Temple ; Collis, Stourbridge.

Farrell, J., Liverpool, horse-dealer. (Bebb and
Co., Gt. Marlborough-street ; Armstrong, Liver-
pool.

Gray, W., Giltspur-street, victualler. (Yenning
and Co., Copthall-buildings.

Griffin, T. Lambeth, timber-merchant. (Rixon
and Son, Jewry-street.

Gray.J., and Morris, W. P., Bristol, wine-mer-
chants. (Cook and Co., New-inn ; Gilard, Bris-
tol.

Goodwin, H. A., Millbank-street, plaster-of-Paris-
manufacvurer. (Gibl>ard, Lambeth.

Harrison, J., Hammersmith, coal-merchant. (Bad-
deley's, L°man-street.

Hall, 'T., Wigan, shopkeeper. (Adlington and
Co., Bedford-row ; Leiirh, Wigan.

Hamer, W., Wigan, coach-maker. (Norris and
Co., John-street ; Battersby and Co., Wigan.

Hawksworth, E., Almondbury, grocer. (Battye
and Co., Chancery-lane: doughs and Co.,
Huddersfield.

Hoskin.R., Manchester, silk-merchant. (Hind-
marsh and Son, Jewin-street ; Hindmarsh and
Co., Manchester.

Harrison, T.,Northallerton, currier. (Williamson,
Gray's-inn ; Whytehead, Thirsk.

Hough, C., Monmoutli, printer. (Meredith and
Co., Lincoln's-inn ; Newman, Cheltenham.

Holland, M. R. and J., Manchester, common
carriers. (Adlington and Co., Bedford-row.

Insole, G. and R. Biddle, Cardiff, brick-makers.
Hornby and Co., St. Svvithin's-lane : Towgood,
Cardiff.

Jackson, T., St. Bees, miller. (Pearson, Staple's-
inn; Shirwen, Whitehaven.

Jackson, J., Horsleydown, coal-merchant. (Bat-
tenbury, Southwark.

Jones, D., Liverpool, furniture-broker. (Bebb and
Co., Gt.Marlborough-street; Armstrong, Liver-
pool.

Jones, R., Gracechurch-street, woollen-draper.
(Clark, Broad -street.

Jenkins, R., Newport, coal-merchant. (Platt and
Co., New Boswell court ; Prothero and Co.,
Newport.

Kidd, J., Hammersmith, broker. (Laver, Ham-
mersmith.

Killerby, J., Southwark, straw-hat-manufacturer.
(Wragg, Sonthwark-Bridge-road.

Lloyd, H. Temple, scrivener. (Fry, Southwark.

Lamb, J. and J., Liverpool, saddlers. (Adlington
and Co., Bedford row ; Mawdesley, Liverpool.

Laskey, R., Exeter, haberdasher. (Brutton and
Co., New Broad-street: Brutton, Exeter.

Lownds, G. E., Ratcliff highway, ironmonger.
(Hensjnan, Bond-court.

Landray, W., Lyme Regis, printer. (Walton and
Co., Warnford-court ; Hingeston, Lyme Regis.

Lazenby, T., York, grocer. (Pearce and Co.,
Switliin's-lane ; Richardson and Co., York.

Lee, J., York, haberdasher. (Williamson, Gray's-
inn ; Blansliard and Co., York.

Munro, J., Liverpool, ironfounder. (Walmsley
and Co., Chancery lane ; Holden, Liverpool.

Miall, S., Sun Tavern-fields, victualler. (Lowe,
Southampton-buildi ngs.

Mark, H., Camberwell, wine-merchant. (Lane,
Frith-street.

Martin, .1., sen., Swindon, currier. (Tilson and
Co., Colman-street ; Hall, Hungerford.

Nicholson, T., Burstwick, horse-dealer. (Walms-
ley and Co., Chancery-lane ; Diyden, Hull.

O'Neill, C., Liverpool, builder. (Bebb and Co.,
Gt. Marlborou&h-street ; Armstrong, Liver-
pool.

Paddon, F. W. Plymouth, printer. (Squire, Ply-
mouth.

Peaeose, J., Sidbury, victualler. (Dyne, Lincoln's-
inn-fields ; Daw, Exeter.

Perry, H., Old Jewry, baker, and George-street,
Bethnal-green, victualler. ((Ashton.Old Broad-
street.

Poarch, J., Cheltenham, grocer. (Evans and Co.,
Gray's-inn ; Haherfield, Bristol.

Richardson, J., Gt. Surrey-street,currier. (Drew,
Bermondsey.

Rodwell, G. B., James -street, linen-draper.
(Heming, Gt. Knight-rider-street.

Redhouse,T., Crooked-lane, ship-broker. (Lewis,
Crutched-friars.

Russell, G., Brownlow-street, coach-smith. (Wal-
ker and Co., Lincnln's-inn-fields.

Reed, A., Bishopmiddleham, brewer. (Taylor,
Clement's-itm ; Marshall, jun., Durham.

Spooner, C., Union-street, colourman. (Abbot,
Nicholas-lane.

Storke, W., Leftwich, bone-dealer. (Blackstock
and Co., Temple.

Summers, H., Manchester, lace-manufacturer.
(Nias, Copthall-court ; Nicholls, Manchester.

Spur, S., Warnford-court, merchant. (Templer
and Co., Gt. Tower- street.

Skare, W. H., Dean-street, appraiser. (Lane,
Frith-street.

Stewart, P. D., St. John's-wood, and Prince Ed-
•ward's Island, North America, merchant.
(Tribe, Lincoln's-inn fields.

Sherrard, E., Hart-street, tailor. (Loveland,
Symond's-Snn.

Shaw, G., Birmingham, plater. (Clarke and Co.
Lincoln's-inn-fields ; Elkington and Co., Bir-
mingham.

Thomson, R., Liverpool, merchant. (Adlington
and Co., Bedford-row ; Houghton and Co., Li-
verpool.

Tipton, R., Gloucester, scrivener. (Tomlins and
Co, Staples-inn ; Ward, Cheltenham.

Taylor, C., York, inn-keeper. Suiithson and Co.,
New-inn ; Robinson, York.

1831.]

Ecclesiastical Preferments—Chronology,

349

Webb, T., Seymour-street, shoe-maker. (Brough

Fleet-street. »

Wilson, J. and W., Whitehaven, plasterers.

CFalcon, Temple ; Hodgson, Whitehaven.
Wood, A., Gt. Tower-street, carpenter. (Cawood,

University-street,
Wilby, S., Aldermanbury, vintner. (Wilkinson

and Co., Bueldersbury.
White, W., Leamington Prior, upholsterer. (Mey-

rick and Co., Red Lion square ; Burbury and

Co., Leamington.

Winn, T., Leeds, victualler. (Battye and [Co.,

Chancery-lane ;%Hargreaves, Leeds.
Wilson, N., Halifax," straw-hat-manufacturer.

(Edwards, Bouverie-street; Edwards, Halifax.
Winterflood, R., Little Waltham, inn-keeper.

(Holtaway and Co.,Took's-court.
Walter, F. A,, Piccadilly, coal-merchant. (Melton.

Arundel-street.
Young, C., Craig's-eount, picture-dealer. (Strat-

ton and Co., Shoreditch, and King's-arms'-yard.

ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.

Rev. J. Dayman, to the Rectory of
Skelton, Cumberland. —Rev. W. M.
Tucker, to the Rectory of AVidworthy,
Devon. — Rev. C. B. Sweet, to the Vi-
carage of Sampford, Arundell.— Rev. J.
Gale, to the Perpetual Curacy of Corfe. —
Rev. Dr. Rudge, to be Chaplain to the
Duke of Sussex — Rev. O. S. Harrison,
to the Rectory of Stawley, Somerset. —
Rev. F. G. Burnaby, to the Vicarages
of Barkston and Plungar, Leicester. —
Rev. J. G. Durham, to the Vicarge of
Newport Pagnell, Bucks. — Rev. H.
Fardell to the Vicarage of Wisbech.—
Rev. J. K. Bonney, to the Archdea-
conry of Leicester, — Rev. H. Nicholls
to the Rectory of Goodleigh, Devon —

Rev. W. Rees, to the Rectory of Tal-
benny, Pembroke.— Rev. G. D. White-
head, to the Vicarage of Hainton,
Lincoln.— Rev. C. S. Wood, to the Rec-
tory of Drayton Beauchamp, Bucks. —
Rev. E. P. Thomas to the Incumbency
of Aberdore, Glamorgan. — Rev. J.
Lowe, to the Curacy and Prebend of
Riccall, York Cathedral. — Rev. M.
Lowry to the Curacy of Brougham,
Penrith.— Rev. R. Cobb, to the Vicar-
age of Deptiing, Kent. — Rev. J. A.
Clarke, to the Rectory of Portlock, So-
merset.—Rev. G. P. Hollis to the Rec-
tory of Doddington, Somerset.— Rev.
M. Vallack, to be Curate of St. An-
drews, Plymouth.

CHRONOLOGY, MARRIAGES, DEATHS, ETC.

CHRONOLOGY.

Feb. 3. Both Houses of Parliament
resumed their meetings after the Christ-
mas recess.

— 8. The Attorney-General, in the
House of Commons, said that 1,000 per-
sons had been tried for the late outrages,
which had been put down by the tem-
perate enforcement of constitutional
law, and without extra powers, or mili-
tary force.

— 9. Mr. Hunt gave notice in the
House of Commons, that he would op-
pose the Dissection Bill, if ever intro-
duced, and by way of amendment, he
should move, " that the bodies of those
rich paupers on the Pension List, as well
as parish Paupers, should be given up
for anatomical purposes !"

— 11. The Lord Chancellor ordered
every body to be turned out of the Court,
at Lincoln's-Inn Hall, the barristers and
attorneys excepted ; so much noise hav-
ing been made, that his Lordship said, —
" Persons came there and behaved as if
they were at a coffee-house, and by their
conversation, totally prevented him
from even hearing the pleadings."

— 12. Mr. O'Connell pleaded guilty
to the indictment instituted against him
at Dublin.

— 17. Old Bailey Sessions com-
menced.

— 18. Mr. D. Browne stated in the
House of Commons, that unless relief was

speedily afforded, there would be 200,000
people in Ireland without food ; which
he attributed to the failure of the pota-
toe crop along the western coast of Mayo
and Gal way. In the baronies of Erris
and Terawley, the distress which the
poor endured, was little short of absolute
famine !

— 19. Mr. St. John Long tried at
the Old Bailey, for committing an as-
sault upon Mrs. C. C. Lloyd, by admi-
nistering a certain inflammatory and
dangerous liquid, &c., and acquitted.

— 24. Sessions ended at the Old
Bailey, when 27 prisoners received sen-
tence of death, 52 were transported, and
several imprisoned for various periods.

HOME MARRIAGES.
Rev. T. Phillpotts, son of J. Phill-
potts, M. P., to Miss Mary Emma
Penelope Hughes.— At Blithfield, Rev.
A. Bouverie, 3rd son of Hon. B. Bou-
verie, to Fanny, 2nd daughter of W.
Sneyd, esq., and one of Her Majesty's
Maids of Honour. — At Kennington,
Capt. H. B. Mason, to Ann, widow of
Lieut.-Col. G. Arnold.— At Sheffield,
J. C. Althorpe, esq., to Miss Mary
Fitzgibbon.— T. S. Barwell, esq., to
Amelia, daughter of the late Henry
Cline, esq. — Right Hon. Lady Eliza-
beth Pack, to Major-General Sir T.
Reynell, Bart.— Hon. C. Stuart Wort-

,350

Marriages — Deaths— Provincial Occurrences. [MARCH,

, leyi 2nd son of Lord Wharncliffe, to
Lady Emmiline Charlotte Elizabeth
M miners, 2nd daughter of Duke of Rut-
land.— Rev. S. Douglas, son. of Rear
Admiral Douglas, to Maria Edith,

' daughter of W. Parish, esq.

HOME DEATHS.

At Cricket, St. Thomas, Viscountess
Bridport, 85. — At Bath, Rear Admiral
Sir Edward Berry, Bart — Hon. Chris-
tiana Phillippa Maria Rolle, youngest
sister to Lord Rolle. — In Hartley St.,
Lady Earle,77 — Sir John Perring.'Bart.
— Harriet Louisa, daughter of Right
lion. R. W. Horton.— Richard Paul
Jodrell, esq., 86, formerly M. P. for Sea-
ford. — At Hastings, Hon. F.W.Robin-
son, son of Lord Grantham, and nephew
to Earl Enniskillen and Viscount Gode-
rich — Thomas Hope, esq., the opulent
Dutch merchant, and reputed author of
Aiuistatius, &c.— At Hough, Rev. R.
Hill, 86, uncle to Lord Hill, and brother
to Rev Rowland Hill. — Lady Isabella
.Anne Kingscote, daughter of Duke of
Beaufort.— At Woolwich, Lady Robe.
—At Bath, Rev. Dr. Trail, 85 ; he suc-
ceeded Dr. R. Simson, the editor of Eu-
clid and the Loci of Apoilonius, as Pro-
fessor of Mathematics in Glasgow, and
married Lady Francis Charteria, aunt
to Earl of - Wemyss. — Lieut.-General
Aylmer. — At Eastnor Castle, Countess
"Somers.— Mr. G. Bloomfield, 84, bro-
ther to Robert Bloomfield the poet, and
himself the author of many merited
compositions. — In Regent's Park, Capt.

P. Heywood, R. N. ; in 1702, then
being a midshipman, he had been 45
days under sentence of death, concern-
ing the Bounty mutiny ; and pardoned
by the King, and possessing great ta-
lent he rose rapidly in the service. — At
Skreens, T. G. Bramston, esq., late
M. P. Essex. — Catherine, relict of Vice
Admiral Sir R. Grindall, — In Dublin,
Archdeacon Smyth. — At Oxford, Lord
Conyers Osborne, 2nd son of Duke of
Leeds. — At St. James's Palace, Hon.
Anne Boscawen, daughter of General
Boscawen. — At Leamington., Harriet,
widow of General Scott.

MARRIAGES ABROAD.

At Vienna, Prince de Metternich, to
the Countess Melanie Zichy. — At Flo-
rence, T. Page, esq., to Susanna, eldest
daughter of the Hon. Colonel de Courcy,
and niece to Lord Kinsale.

DEATHS ABROAD.

In India, Hon. Lady Rum bold .—Her
Royal Highness Louisa, Landgravine of
Sclileswig-HoLstein. and grand-daughter
to George II. — In the hospital .of New
York, the son of the celebrated Marmon-
tel, in extreme distress and destitution.
• — In India, Capt. C. Holroyd, 2nd son of
Sir George Sowley Holroyd, late one of
the King's Bench Judges.— At Munich,
Hon. Margaret Erskihe, second daugh-
ter of Lord Erskine, Minister at the
Court of Bavaria.— At San Pedro, Colum-
bia, General Bolivar, the Liberator of
Columbia.

MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES.

; NORTHUMBERLAND.— A great
act of justice is about to be performed
in behalf of the poor brethren of the
Hospital of St. Mary the Virgin. At a
late special meeting of the Common
Council at Newcastle, it was resolved to
apply for an act of parliament during
the present session, to confirm the va-
lidity of the existing leases, whose le-
gality was previously doubted ; to place
the immense property belonging to this
charity, on a more secure and equitable
basis, and to distribute the profits of it
according to the intentions of the found-
ers. The brethren will not only receive
the proportion of the rentals to which
they are justly entitled, but a new cha-
pel will be erected out of the funds of
the hospital, and the master will be re-
quired to perform divine service, as
originally contemplated, in return for
his income.

GLOUCESTERSHIRE. — The se-
cond annual meeting of the Bristol Hor-
ticultural and Botanical Society, was
lately held, when the report of the com-

mittee, which, after alluding to the
pleasure they felt in witnessing, in an
establishment of only two years' stand-
ing, the happy progress it had made
towards perfection, and the full accom-
plishment of all the objects which the
founders and supporters had in contem-
plation, observed, that the object of the
association was not simply that of amus-
ing the fancy, innocent as the idea,
might be, but substantially to promote
the welfare, encourage the industy, and
ultimately benefit the whole body of
the community.

HANTS.— A numerous and respect-
able meeting of the inhabitants of Win-
chester and suburbs, was lately held at
the Guildhall, to take into consideration
the propriety of petitioning Parliament
on Reform, when several resolutions
were moved and carried unanimously :
— the first states, that this meeting is
deeply convinced of the necessity, jus-
tice, and expediency of a Reform in
Parliament, a Reform by which the
House of Commons may be rendered a

1831.] Devonshire, Cornwall, Somersetshire, Sussex,

351

more perfect representation of the peo-
ple,— and that the present critical state
of the country, and the general progress
of opinion, combine in rendering it
highly dangerous to delay the adoption
of such a measure. Petitions were
voted, embodying the resolutions to both
Houses.

DEVON SHIRE.— At the 15th annual

general meeting of the trustees, ma-
nagers, and subscribers of the Devon
and Exeter Savings' Bank, held Janu-
ary 31, last, it appeared that there had
been accumulated from its institutions,
£1,363,580. IDs. 9d., from 124,386 de-
posits, and that last year no less a sum
than ,£100,590. 4s. 2d., had been re-
ceived.

CORNWALL.— A considerable de-
gree of discontent has been manifested
by the miners, in consequence of the
shipment of corn for some of the eastern
ports. A body of stream-tinners from
Luxullion, Roche, and the adjoining
parishes, collected on Friday last, and
proceeded to Wadebridge and Padstow,
where shipments of corn were being
made for Plymouth and other parts of
the kingdom. The poor men conducted
themselves in an orderly manner, and
returned without offering any violence
to those engaged in shipping the corn.

On Tuesday last, about three hundred
miners of St. Just, entered Penzance in
a body, and proceed to the quay there,
for the purpose of preventing the expor-
tation of a quantity of barley, then in
course of shipment. The two resi-
dent magistrates of the town, with seve-
ral of the inhabitants, repaired to the
quay, when they found that the shippers
had promised that they would not ex-
port the corn, which was accordingly
taken back to the warehouses. This
measure completely satisfied tlfe miners,
and they returned at once to their
homes — West Briton.

SOMERSETSHIRE. — The efforts
of the Bath Employment Society, con-
tinued to be attended with highly bene-
ficial result ; no fewer than 64 persons
are now employed in making artificial
gravel in the Society's yard; 24 men
have been set to work on the Bathwick
Improvements ; 18 in Charlcombe
Fields ; and on Monday 14 were sent
to labour in the Bath Park, amounting
altogether to 120, for whom employ-
ment has been provided by the Society.
Most extensive good has thus been ef-
fected in a very short time.

SUSSEX.— Great good has been ef-
fected in this county, by the formation
of " Labourers' Friend Societies."
These Societies are founded on the con-
sideration, that as there is a surplus of

labour in the country, which its low
price sufficiently proves, the most effec-
tual relief would be to enable the
peasant to labour for himself, or to assign
him land, at a fair rate, to cultivate
with his own hands. The members pro-
pose in the outset, to apply themselves
to the obtaining correct information of
the situation of the agricultural labour-
ers, and they will promote by all pos-
sible means, wherever it may be deemed
eligible, the allotment of land, and the
building of cottages for them ; other
objects relative to the moral condition
of the peasanty, are also included in the
plans of the Societies.

WARWICKSHIRE.— At a meeting,
lately held at Warwick, of the Nobility
Gen try, Clergy, and Land-owners, resolu-
tions were entered into, for establishing
an Agricultural Association, to be called
" The Warwickshire Agricultural So-
ciety." The 7th resolution states : — '.
" That the first and chief object of this
Society be, to encourage the Agricul-
tural Labourer in his habits of industry,
by offering premiums for the cultivation
of his garden, for skill and diligence in
his agricultural service, and for general
good character : and also to assist him
in his exertions to improve his condi-
tion, and to render his home comfortable
and happy I"

The Birmingham Political Union now
consists of upwards of 9000 members, all
of whom pay to its funds from 4s. to 40s.
per annum.

A detailed statement of the inves-
tigation into the circumstances and ori-
gin of the late destructive fire at St.
Peter's Church, Birmingham, has been
published. The referees give it as their
opinion that the fire originated from the
excessive heat thrown into the smoke
flue from the warm-air apparatus.

SCOTLAND. — February 1, 1831,
will, we fear, be a memorable day through-
out Scotland. On that day we were
visited by one of the most violent snow-
storms within our recollection, exceed-
ing as we think it does, in magnitude,
the storms of 1823 and 1827- This,
however, was but the prelude to the
brooding and gathering tempest that was
impending over it — for early on Tuesday
morning, the wind, which was from the
east, and. which had been moderate during
the preceding day, suddenly increased
to a perfect hurricane, accompanied by
a still heavier and more continuous fall
or rather drift of snow. Raging through-
out the whole of the day with great
fury, the storm towards* evening as-
sumed a most terrific aspect — the wind
became, if possible, still more outrageous
— its tornado-like violence rendering i,t
exceedingly dangerous to be out of
doors. On Wednesday morning, Edin>

352

Provincial Occurrences : Scotland and Ireland. [MARCH,

burgh presented a very picturesque ap-
pearance, resembling not a little, that
of a city under blockade — the snow lay
on the streets in many instances to a
great depth, having been blown into
long sloping ridges or mounds ; the
fronts 01 the houses, and in particular
the doors and casements, were so com-
pletely studded and battered with snow,
as not unfrequently to entirely shut out
the light of day. — Edinburgh Papers.

It is with the most extreme regret
we report the loss of the Dumfries
Mail, between Moffat and the Crook, a
dreary, wild, and desolate tract of coun-
try, without the vestige of a house or a
sheeling, and nothing to guide the tra-
veller when the ground is covered with
snow, but the snow posts, which extend
at intervals for a distance of 7 miles ;
and in severe weather perhaps the most
arduous and perilous journey, south
of Edinburgh. The guard, James
M 'George, and the driver, John Good-
fellow, have unfortunately perished in
the honourable discharge of their duty ;
in attempting to proceed with the bags
strapped upon their shoulders, in weight
8 stones, after having been obliged to
abandon first the coach, and afterwards
the extra leaders, which they had
mounted.

The take of the herrings in the Frith,
has continued for some weeks past to
assume the appearance of " miraculous
draughts ;" nor could they have made
their appearance at a more fitting sea-
son, to supply the wants of the poor.
On Saturday morning last, 39 boats
from Newhaven, and about 60 from
Buckhaven, drew their nets near Burnt
Island. They were very successful,
and returned at an early hour in the
afternoon, with their cargoes, averaging
from four to five cran each boat. The
demand was excellent, and the fish sold
readily for 9s. to 10s. a cran. About
200 cran have been sent weekly by the
canal to Glasgow. This fishing, at the
present season, gives employment to
upwards of four hundred hardy seamen,
and has been yielding a daily supply of
eighteen thousand nine hundred gallons
of^ herrings to the public. The retail
price has varied, but they have been
sold so low as fifteen for a penny ! —
North Briton, Feb. 16.

A Political Union, similar to those of
Birmingham, York, Renfrew, and other
places, has been recently established at
Edinburgh. Several of the gentlemen
who proposed or seconded resolutions,
prefaced them by speeches, the general
purport of which was, a determination to
support the present Ministry by every
exertion in the powerof the Union, if the
plan of Reform should be such as ought
to satisfy the country ! and a fixed re-

solve, if the Ministerial Reform should
be defective, to use every constitutional
means of obtaining that portion of Re-
form which the Ministry delayed! —
Edinburgh Advertiser.

IRELAND. — The annual meeting of
the Education Society, recently took
place at the schools, in Kild are-place.
The report was most gratifying ; it
states, that 1 60 schools have been added
to the number within the year, and that
after deducting 79 schools, which from
various causes, had, during the year,
ceased to be in connection with the
Society, there were on the list on the
5th of January last, 1634 schools, con-
taining 132,534 scholars, a very large
proportion of which are Roman Catho-
lics. Thus giving a net increase of 81
schools, and 823 scholars over the amount
for the proceding year. While also the
schools exhibit an average of 80 scholars
for 1 829, they shew an average of 81 for
1830 ; and thus it appears there is an
increase in the number of schools, in
the number of scholars, arid in the aver-
age extent of each school — a rare result,
considering the circumstances in which
the Society has been placed, as remark-
able as it is gratifying. The total num-
ber of schools assisted from the funds
within the year, including the new
schools, is 1525, to which have been
granted various sums, amounting to
£6,504. 7s. 8d., exclusive of gratuities
paid to deserving teachers of schools
throughout Ireland, and of the expences
attending the training school. The
number of teachers who have been
trained in Kildare-place, since the first
opening to the 5th of last month, is —
males 1760 — females 424 — making a total
of 2184 teachers attached to the schools
in all parts of Ireland, who have been
trained by the Society.

It is our melancholy duty this day to
state a fact, which is of the most heart-
rending nature. From the inquiries
that have been made within the last
few days, into the state of the poor in
that district of Dublin, known as Fran-
cis-street parish, it has been found, that
out of a population of 25,000 persons,
there are 6,000 in a state of absolute
want. In part of that district, several
human beings of both sexes, of the ages
of 14 and 15 years, were found com-
pletely naked and huddled together in
corners of the rooms, in the vain endea-
vour to retain some heat in their bodies.
— Dublin Morning Register.

The Lord Lieutenant has, at his own
private expence, chartered vessels at
Cork and Larne, and shipped on board
them potatoes, for the relief of the dis-
tressed peasantry, in the Western and
South-Western districts in Ireland.—
Dublin Evening Mail.

THE

MONTHLY MAGAZINE

OF

POLITICS, LITERATURE, AND THE BELLES LETTRES,
VOL. XL] APRIL, 1831. [No. 64

PARLIAMENTARY REFORM.

The Bill for changing the representation of the people, and new mo-
delling the House of Commons, is now fully before the nation. No
public measure within memory has been so closely sifted, so vigorously
debated, nor resisted and sustained with such an equality of numbers
and ability on both sides, Introduced on Tuesday, the 1st of March,
it was debated for seven nights before it reached the vote on the first
reading. Yet as this debate, long as it was, must be looked on only as
explanatory, the debate on the second reading was the true trial of
strength. That debate occupied two nights, and might have occupied
many more, from the number who were prepared to speak, but the ex-
haustion of the House demanded that the discussion should close, and,
on Tuesday the 22d, in the most numerous House on record, an assem-
blage of six hundred and three members, out of six hundred and fifty-
eight — the second reading was carried by a majority of ONE !

We give the heads of the plan : —

" All boroughs containing less than 2,000 inhabitants, according to the
population returns of 1821, to be utterly disfranchised. The number of these
boroughs is sixty, and the House would thus be deprived of 119 members. — •
Boroughs containing less than 4000 inhabitants to be deprived of one member
each. These amount to forty-seven. — Weymouth to lose two of its members.
— Twenty-seven of the larger counties to return two additional members
each. — Seven large towns to have two members each. — Twenty boroughs
one each. — The Firisbury, Tower Hamlets, Lambeth and Holborn divisions of
the Metropolis to return two members each. — York to return two additional
members (each Riding returning two.) — The Isle of Wight to return one
member. — Five additional members to be given to Scotland, and three to Ire-
land.— The House of Commons would thus be diminished by 168 members,
while 106 only would be added ; leaving 596 members instead of 658, or
effecting a reduction of sixty-two. — All persons inhabiting houses of not less
than 101. annual value will be entitled to vote for the boroughs in which they
reside. — All persons holding a lease of twenty-one years and paying 501. rent
will be entitled to vote for counties. — Non-residents are disqualified to vote.
The poll to be taken in two days.

On this measure, like all those of its school, our own opinion is de-
cided. We distinctly and entirely reject the calumny that Toryism is
M.M. New Series.— VOL. XL No.64. 2 Z

354 Parliamentary Reform. [ APRIL

adverse to moderate reform. The true Tory is a lover of the Constitu-
tion for its merits, its security of property, personal freedom, and the
rights of conscience. On this principle there can be no more deter-
mined enemy of each and every abuse, which degrades the purity, that
enfeebles the protecting power of the Constitution. On this principle
he will go the farthest lengths with the corrector of real abuses, and on
this principle he feels it his duty to resist the suspicious corrector of
imaginary abuses. He preserves the whole frame of the Constitution
sacred, and for that purpose he uniformly and resolutely repels all the
tamperings which would attempt to renovate the Constitution by extin-
guishing its spirit and destroying its frame.

But to put our readers in possession, for their own judgment, of the
chief arguments on both sides, we shall give a sketch of two speeches
which embodied, in the most direct manner, the principal grounds of
the measure and its opposition. — Those of Sir Robert Inglis and Mr.
O'Connell.

Mr. O'Connell. began by the natural, but sufficiently expressive decla-
rations, that he was a radical reformer, that he was an advocate for uni-
versal suffrage, a friend to shortening the duration of parliaments, and
a favourer of the vote by ballot. His only objection to the bill was,
that it did not go far enough. " Still," said Mr. O'Connell, " the
measure is a liberal and extensive measure, and it will demonstrate one
of two things, either that further reform is not necessary, by proving
that greater extension of suffrage and vote by ballot will be of no ad-
vantage, or it will give the vote by ballot without disturbance. . As a
Radical reformer therefore I heartily accept it."

This was at least open enough, and the sincerity with which the
member for Waterford spoke was unquestionable. He plainly acknow-
ledged in it the principle of Radical reform, and rejoiced in the pros-
pect accordingly. After some general observations upon the injuries
still left unhealed in Ireland by the bill, he adverted to the argument
that the present state of the boroughs afforded an opportunity for the
introduction of men of talent into the House. This, which is certainly
a feeble argument, he ridiculed at some length : —

" Was it not that neither Peer nor Prelate should interfere with the freedom
of election ? "Was it then to he endured that gentlemen should tell the m n
that House, that a Duke or Earl had the right of appointing a member
of the Commons House of Parliament? Should gentlemen tell him, in the
teeth of that House, that the giving that power to a Lord was the ( Old Con-
stitution ?' The hypocrisy of that revolution was theirs, or they were parties
to it. If any gentleman attempted to violate that resolution clandestinely, it
was the duty of the Speaker to defeat the attempt. But if the violation of it
was, as gentlemen insisted, the < Old Constitution/ he would say, let the
question be regularly brought before the House, and let the resolution be re-
scinded. But let them not be told that a bill to enforce its observance, whilst
it stood upon their books, was a revolution."

The borough patronage he turned into equal ridicule, and appealing
to those who talked of the robbery of the noble patrons, he demanded
where the right to that species of property was to be found ? —

Ct He had never heard of a royal charter, grant, or deed to any nobleman,
conferring on that nobleman the right of nominating members to sit in that
House. No ; but he had heard of such grants being made to the people. He
knew that the people had been robbed of those grants, and he liked this act

1831.] Parliamentary Refrrm. 355

because it laid hold of the spoliators. The seizure was with those who now
cried out so lustily ' Stop thief!' Some delusion was practised upon this
subject in the House; the matter was mystified by one gentleman quoting*
what another gentleman had said upon some other occasion, or what some de-
ceased statesman of great name had been reported to have said some years ago :
but he would tell the House that the people out of doors were in the habit of
talking common-sense, and that this was the language which they held to the
borough-proprietors — ' You have taken away our rights, you have usurped
our franchises, you have robbed us of our property, and do what you will,
you shall disgorge !' "

As he passed along he alluded to the conduct of individuals as in-
fluencing or influenced by the mode of borough election. To the actual
law that no bishop should interfere in the choice of members, he declared
that there was a direct disobedience in the conduct of the Archbishop
of Armagh, the Irish primate, who had returned Mr. Goulburn before
his apostacy, and who had lately returned him a second time : —

" He would give up all Reform if he did not prove at that bar that they
had among them a member for a borough, who had been nominated by a pre-
late. The member to whom he alluded was the late Chancellor of the Exche-
quer, the representative for the borough of Armagh. Yes ; and as soon as the
right-honourable gentleman, the nominee of the right- reverend prelate, had
been safely returned by the influence of the right-reverend prelate, the Orarge-
rrien and the Presbyterians, and others of the borough, met together, and
joined in the work of burning the right-honourable gentleman in effigy. And
this was the old and much-lauded Constitution ! Oh ! if the honourable and
learned member for Boroughbridge had only been as pathetic as he was
comical — if he had been, like Niobe, all tears — and what an admirable repre-
sentative of Niobe he would have made ! — they should have been almost
washed away in the flood which would have been shed at the notion of de-
stroying this venerable old Constitution !"

The effect of this patronage gave him the opportunity of a remark on
the member for Drogheda, whose squabble with him last year was not
forgotten.

" By-the-by, this brought to his recollection the speech of the honourable
and learned member for Drogheda (Mr. North) last night. They all remem-
bered how that honourable and learned member, when he sat for a rotten
borough, and was on the other side of the House, hardly ever opened his lips,
and when he did, spoke scarcely above his breath, and always voted with
Ministers; but they had all seen how he threw himself forward now — how
loudly and independently he talked, now that he sat on this side the House
and for Drogheda, and was disencumbered of the influence of a patron."

Concluding with a bitter sarcasm on all who entered Parliament under
patronage, a sarcasm which cut right and left among his own friends.

" Oh ! God help those who would creep into that House. They said that
they stooped, and that they were riot ashamed to stoop. Out upon this
saying ! they did not stoop — they could not stoop — for they were already
bent so low that it was impossible they could bend lower."

In adverting to the actual state of Elections, he descanted strongly
and justly -on the abominations practised at the hustings He asked,
*' was there any member of the House who was not aware of the Election
system? Of the class of persons who crowded round a Member cf
Parliament, asking him, ' did he know of a third man ?' saying, < that
they have got two to stand, and if they could only find a third man, he
would be sure to get in ?' " This observation found so much corres-

2 Z 2

356 Parliamentary Reform.

ponding sentiment among the members,, that it was received with loud
cheers and laughter. " He would then ask them, was this the Old
Constitution so much talked of? He would ask the learned member
for Boroughbridge, and he assured him, that of no man's learning and
integrity he had a higher opinion, would he give his voice for the pre-
servation of a system which gave such an opening for corruption,
profligacy, and the violation of the privileges of that House every six
years, almost every year ? Would any one deny that such was the case
in all the half-open boroughs ? Who would deny that the votes of these
burgesses were sold as oxen were sold in Smithfield, and that the seats
which represent them were sold and let as the stalls in Leadenhall
Market ? Did any one suppose that the people of England would not
rise and destroy that system of corruption ? Not perhaps by any sudden
violence, but by the force of opinion rising calmly, gradually, and irre-
sistibly, as a giant rising from his sleep."

The argument of the injury done to the corporations, he treated with
contempt. Out of the whole list of the sixty disfranchised boroughs
only sixteen were corporations. As to the general delicacy of touching
the popular franchises and rights, he could not discover it in the previous
practice of the House, and peculiarly with repect to Ireland, where at
the time of the Union two hundred boroughs were disfranchised by a
single Act of Parliament. Yet, was guilt charged upon those boroughs ?
Quite the contrary ; they were so innocent that the minister of the day
thought they deserved £13,000 a piece for compensation.

The working of the boroughmonger system, he declared to have at
all times been hostile to national objects. From the returns of the di-
visions in 1822, on the question of retrenchment, it was clear that no
dependence for public objects was to be placed on the members for the
close boroughs. It appeared on that occasion, that of the nineteen
members for boroughs, with a population under 500, the whole voted
against retrenchment ; that of the members for boroughs, with a popu-
lation above 500, and under 1,000, thirty-three voted against retrench-
ment, and but twelve for it ; of those for boroughs with 4,000 inhabi-
tants, seventeen were for retrenchment, and forty-four against it, while
of the boroughs with a population beyond 5,000, sixty-six voted for it,
and but forty-seven against it ; an evidence that the greater the popu-
lation, or, in general, the more open the borough, the more attentive
the members were to the distresses and desires of the country, while
it was the working of the close borough system which had created our
wars, and with them our national debt, and the enormous pressure of
taxation. The common argument of the advantage of boroughs in
bringing men of ability into the House, was obviously answered by the
fact, that they had brought not one man of ability for hundreds of the
direct contrary stamp; that if they exhibited a few remarkable men,
half-a-dozen perhaps in a century, they appeared but at intervals, like the
theatrical stars, which went down from London among the provinces,
and the entire of the play was Hamlet, while Polonius and all the other
characters were forgotten. To the remark that the " system had worked
well/' the natural answer was, " look round you. Ask what the agri-
cultural population felt on the subject ? Was the fact reflected from
the fires which had lately blazed through the counties ? And would
they be content to take the statement from the unfortunate men who
filled their jails on account of the late disturbances?"

1831.] Parliamentary Reform. 35f

The state of the representation in Scotland and Ireland deserved to
draw the strongest attention. Taking Edinburgh as an instance. To
return the member there were now just thirty-three constituents ; the
present bill would turn this constituency into 12,000. The thirty-
three were now represented by one person, who received more of the
public money than any representative of 120,000 people that had ever
sat in that House. He would back the honourable member for Edin-
burgh against any other representative of the people for doing nothing
but receiving money and signing receipts. (Laughter and cheers). The
majority of the voters of Scotland had neither land nor income, and
possessed their franchise only by virtue of a strip of parchment.

The mode in which Ireland would be affected was next brought under
review, and he contended that the representation should be enlarged : —

" Out of the twenty-eight counties in England, to which it was proposed
to give two additional members each, fifteen of them possessed a population
less than that of the county of Antrim ; nineteen of them less than that of
Down ; twenty-two of them less than that of Tipperary ; and there was not
any one of them, with the exception of Lancashire and Yorkshire, that had
any thing like the population of the county of Cork."

Proceeding on the principle of population, the " seven millions of the
finest peasantry under the sun" would undoubtedly make a formidable
figure in the muster of their representatives ; though we might have some
doubt of their taking any very striking interest in the matter, or of their
being exactly the best judges of the qualifications of a member of par-
liament. But Mr. O'Connell desired on this principle to see, " out of
the sixty-two members that remained in bank, two additional to eight
populous counties which he named. He would draw the line with
regard to a population under 200,000; those counties which had a
larger number of people ought to have two more members — but the
great working of the measure would be upon England, where it would
be most important :—

<e As related to England, it had a double operation — upon counties, and
Upon boroughs. As to the first, it not only continued the forty-shilling free-
holders in their present right of voting, but it extended the franchise to copy-
holders of 101. a year — a most substantial advantage. It was most just that
copyholders should have a voice, for although they held by the Court Roll,
their property was as valuable and as saleable as if it were freehold. But the
measure did not stop there, and wisely ; what lawyers called chattel interests,
were allowed to be represented, for hitherto a man might have a lease of a
thousand acres for a thousand years, but he could not vote, although his next
neighbour, who owned, perhaps, a single acre upon an old life, was permitted
to exercise his suffrage. The bill would thus add two numerous and
influential classes to the elective -body ; and, in this respect, was highly bene-
ficial. It was a mere cavil, on the part of those who complained, that the
Privy Council ought not to have the power to divide counties, and it was an
objection that had never been urged in Ireland. The experiment was not
novel, or if it were it would be harmless."

He contended that the measure was so far from revolutionary that it
would be the direct antidote to a revolution, if such were contemplated.
It would bring a vast number of the middle classes into political in-
fluence, and in them was the virtue of the community, and would be
the stability of the state. The enlargement of the constituency for the
counties and towns must be salutary, but he rejoiced at the knife being

358 Parliamentary Reform.

laid to the rotten boroughs. To the charge that this change was an
inroad on the Constitution, he asked : —

" What was the theory of the Constitution ? When men talked to him of
the new Constitution attempted to be introduced, he asked them what was
the old ? Was it this — that the mound of Old Sarum, or the park at Gatton,
should be represented ? What lawyer would dare to assert that such was
the old Constitution of England ? He recollected a circumstance which hap-
pened some years ago in one of the courts of law in Ireland. At the Union,
certain close boroughs were disfranchised, and, by a precedent by no means to
be imitated, compensation was given, not to the voters who lost their suffrages,
but to the patron, who arrogated to himself the right of selling them to the
highest bidder. The borough of Askeaton was one of them, and 13,0001. was
given by Parliament to Massey Dawson, as compensation. Shortly after-
wards, his brother, the other member, claimed half, and brought an action in
one of the Irish courts to recover it. No sooner had the plaintiff's counsel
opened his case, than the learned judge on the bench told him, that he must
be nonsuited ; and further added — ' Sir, I have a great respect for you per-
sonally, but I must tell you that your client is a most audacious man to dare
to come into court with such an action/ And yet it afterwards appeared,
from a statement which he heard made in the Court of Chancery, that this
very judge, together with the father of the honourable member for Limerick,
were the trustees named in a marriage-settlement, by which it was provided
that the nomination to the borough of Tralee should be set aside as a pro-
vision for the younger children of Sir E. Dennie. And yet this was called the
old Constitution !"

Having thus given with perfect fairness the leading arguments of the
most efficient advocate of the measure, we give, with more gratification,
the plain and manly view of the case supplied by Sir Robert Inglis.
Rising immediately after Lord John Russell's detailing his plan, and,
of course, without any of the advantages supplied to the subsequent
speakers by time for preparation, or the study of the details, one of the
matters on which the ministers prided themselves being their skill in
concealing every feature of their bill, until the moment when it was
brought into the House, the honourable baronet exposed himself to
difficulties encountered by no other speaker ; but a slight sketch of his
speech is the best evidence how vigorously and intelligently he was
fitted to cope with the question.

He commenced by adverting to the assertion, — " that now was come
a crisis, when the nation demanded the change in the Constitution with a
voice which it was impossible to resist ; or which, if any attempt were
made to resist, it must be at the imminent hazard of national ruin."
But this tone of intimidation had been adopted overhand over again, on
all occasions where a party called for a change in the Constitution ; it
had been resisted on those occasions; the menace turned out to be
vapour, and the Constitution survived. If so then, what was there in
the present circumstances of the country to make the difference ? What
was there to make the people of England more really anxious for
" Reform" now, than on other occasions? et Every man," said he,
" always regards his own times as the best or the worst ; he sees what is
before ; but he forgets, or he never knew, what is past. The conse-
quence is that for a succession of generations we have a succession of
speeches about— misgovernment, unexampled decay of trade, profligate
expenditure, corruption, &c. &c., so like each other, that it would be
worth while to reprint in 1831, some of those elegies of the ruin of
England, only changing the date from 1731. So again, with respect to

1831.] Parliamentary Reform. 359

Reform, the outcry was loud enough to disturb the kingdom, inflamed
as it was by statements, that no country was ever so ill governed, no
people ever so oppressed, denied the last melancholy privilege of com-
plaining— though they were then, as they are now, allowed to make,
and were fearlessly making, complaints which amounted almost to
sedition/'

He then adduced instances of this exaggerated outcry from the writings of
the great political leaders of the1 past :— " What was to be thought of this
passage from Burke, — or what was there in it which did not characterize
the language of declaimers in the present day ?" "Nobody/' says Burke
in his famous pamphlet, On the Cause of the Present Discontents;
" nobody I believe, will consider it merely as the language of spleen, or
disappointment, if I say that there is something peculiarly alarming in
the present conjuncture. There is hardly a man, in or out of power,
who holds any other language.

" That we know neither how to yield, nor how to enforce, that hardly
any thing above or below, abroad or at home, is sound and entire ; but
that disconnection and confusion, in offices, in parties, in families, in par-
liament, in the nation, prevail beyond the disorders of any former times,
those are facts universally admitted and lamented.

" This state of things is the more extraordinary, because the great
parties which formerly divided the kingdom, are known to be in a man-
ner entirely dissolved. No great external calamity has visited the nation,
no pestilence, no famine. We do not labour at present under any scheme
of taxation, new or oppressive in the quality, or in the mode; nor are
we engaged in unsuccessful war in which our misfortune might easily
pervert our judgment; and our minds, sore from the loss of national glory,
might feel every blow of misfortune as a crime in government."

" One should think/' says Sir Robert, " naturally enough on reading
such a passage from such a man, that the end of the world, at least of the
kingdom, had arrived. Yet by God's blessing, we survived the crisis,
and look back with surprise at the exaggeration which has so described
it." He pursued this reasoning into other examples, and among the
rest, alluded to the celebrated Yorkshire address at the close of the
American war ; the universal outcry at that period that England was
irreparably undone ; and even the advice of so grave and remarkable a
man as Sir William Jones, that " each man should keep a firelock in
the corner of his bed-room, and should learn to fire and charge with
bayonet firmly and regularly, against those who then resisted the cry
of Reform."

On the introduction of the Reform Bill in 1782, the same declarations
were made of national ruin, if the measure were resisted ; the House
were reminded of the Briareus hands of the multitude, and told that they
had but an hour to deliberate before they surrendered. On this occasion
Home Tooke wrote thus to Dunning : —

" The people must be satisfied in their just expectations, and most
surely will be so. Ministers will surely grant with a good grace what
cannot be much longer withheld. They will at least catch the present
favourable opportunity. They will not wait to be received with scorn
and hootings for their offer to us of that, which we should now receive
with gratitude. I will venture to assert that they have no time to lose.
1782." This cry was resisted like the rest, was put down, and the
country contrived to live on, notwithstanding. But the most remarkable

360 Parliamentary Reform. \_ APRIL,

period stated by Sir Robert, was ten years after this, when the French
revolution was shaking the allegiance of the subject in every part of
Europe, when its singular success buoyed up the hopes of party, and
when the nation was really in an anxious state, and on the verge of war.
In November 1792. — At that period the celebrated and unfortunate
Condorcet predicted the downfal of England as inevitable unless total
reform were instantly to take place. — " Since the explosion of Liberty in
France/' said this writer, <e a hollow fermentation has shewn itself in
England ; and has more than once disconcerted the ministerial oper-
ations. Popular societies have been established in the three kingdoms,
and a parliamentary reform has been talked of, just in the same manner
as we talked of the states-general at the end of the year 1788, in France.
It is well known what a number of persons there are who think rightly,
and daily enlighten the people of England, and whose opinions furnish
subjects for useful disquisitions. This people, who at once fear and desire
such a revolution as ours, will necessarily be drawn along by those
courageous and enlightened persons, who always determine the first
steps ; the opening of the session of parliament which approaches, will
infallibly become the occasion of the reforms which are the most urgent,
such as those which regard the national representation. From thence
to the entire establishment of a republic, the transition will be the less
tedious, because the foundations of liberty have long existed in England."
Yet this crisis, such as it was announced, passed away, the popular out-
cry was loud, but it was wisely resisted, and the country still stood.
But the uproar for the change of the Constitution had been raised at sub-
sequent periods, and with as many ominous declarations of public ruin.
It was raised in 1819, and seconded by almost open insurrection in the
manufacturing districts, and it was put down. Again in 1823, when the
public pressures were severe, it was raised; and again it was put down;
it was put down without concession, and there is nothing in the present
state of affairs, nor in the nature of the clamour, that should make the
sacrifice of the Constitution necessary now more than then.

The country is now filled with an outcry for reform. But there is
nothing in the present state of public affairs half so threatening as at any
one of the periods in which the outcry had been raised and safely put
down. There is no unpropitious harvest, no. sudden failure of trade,
nor of the national resources of any kind ; there is no war. The manu-
facturers are in full work, and agriculture is rapidly reviving. What
then has at this moment given such an excitement to the advocates for
change ? The three days of Paris ! The evidence that the populace
could overpower the force of the government when it pleased, the proof
of the popular power. This had stirred up the hopes of every partizan
of change in England, a result which had always been in some degree
felt in this country in all cases of foreign revolution. But let the outcry
be what it may, the duty of a House of Commons is to deliberate for
the public good, not to be influenced blindly by the popular will. They
are representatives, not delegates, councillors consulting for the whole,
not pleaders for the interests of particular places. The words of the
King's writ are " That the returning officer should cause election to be
made," not of persons to treat about the affairs of London or Liverpool,
but " about certain arduous and urgent affairs concerning us, the state,
and defence of our kingdom and the church."

The proposed change in the system of elections takes it for granted

1831.] Parliamentary Reform. 361

that population was one of the early principles of constituency ; but
this is altogether an error. Every county alike, from the 23rd Edward I.,
let its population be what it might, sent two members. And even when
the change under Cromwell took place, population seems to have been
neglected, for the more important purpose of returning partizans. Thus
Staffordshire had only three members, while Cornwall had eight. The
common conception, that the close boroughs are a corruption of their
original character, and that, having been once gifted with a right of
representation as populous places, they ought to lose that right with the
loss of that population, is an equal error. Even Old Sarum, from the
earliest records, 23rd Edward I., seems to have been nothing more at
the time than a castle, made a borough to entitle the Earl of Salisbury,
its holder, to have a representative in the House. So of others, Corfe
Castle, and Bishop's Castle, created by Queen Elizabeth at the suit of
Sir Christopher Hatton when he received the estates connected with
them. So of the Cornish boroughs. They were not created, as is sup-
posed, on account of the opulence or the population connected with the
tin mines. They were almost exclusively created by the Crown, for the
express purpose of guarding its own prerogatives in the House of Com-
mons. Cornwall was its own duchy, and there it placed its parliamen-
tary strength. So much for the idea that the bill which disfranchises
those boroughs is a restoration of the constitution of parliament. That
system may have been weak, or tyrannical, or corrupt j but • the pro-
posed system is not a revival of the old principles of parliament : it is a
revolution. As the conclusion from those and similar facts which crowd
upon us from all parliamentary history, we arrive at these truths — popu-
latron never was the basis of our representation — property never was the
basis of our representation ; the constitution was not the work of any
single mind, nor assembly ; the kings who originally constructed or
renewed parliament, gave the franchise or divided the country according
to their own choice ; the true foundation of popular power being in the
House of Commons having the power of the purse, which made it
impossible for a king, mainly dependent on his people for his revenue,
to overthrow the national liberties.

But it was alleged that the present system was a source of corruption
in the House. " Corruption/' said Sir Robert, "must be one of the
three kinds, by money, by place, or by party." First, as to money, he
demanded, te Was there any man, in or out of the House, who could
point to any member and say, that he believed, that on any one question
of public polity for the last fifty years any thing in the shape of money
has ever been tendered to him ? The thing is impossible. The thing
was not impossible two generations back. The secret-service money of
James II. was £90,000., in that day the twentieth part of the whole
revenue. The secret-service money of the present day is scarcely more
than the tenth part of that sum, and not more than a seven hundreth
part of the revenue.

" For the corruption by places. There never was a period when there
were so few placemen in parliament, and the means of influence are
gradually, but regularly diminishing day by day.

" The influence of party. There are now no parties. It is one of the
misfortunes of the day that there are no leading men to head parties,
and thus give stability to the government, and consistency to the oppo-
sition/'

M.M. New Series.— Voi,. XI. No. 64. 3 A

Parliamentary Reform. [\APRIL,

The advantages of the present system are, that by it all the various
great interests of the empire are enabled to find representatives. This
was the dictum of Burke, " All interests must be let in — a great official,
a great professional, a great military and naval interest, all necessarily
comprehending many men of the first weight, ability, wealth, and
spirit, has been gradually formed in the kingdom. Those new interests
must be let into a share of representation." But on the proposed system
there would be a great difficulty in any man's finding his way into the
House except as a popular candidate, in other words, a candidate
pledged to do whatever the mob commanded. The interests of the
commercial bodies would find an extreme difficulty of representation,
and the interests of the colonies scarcely a chance of being represented
at all. So far as abuses exist in the representation, they are rapidly
purifying. The press, an engine more powerful than the prerogative,
exercises a formidable supervision over parliament, and no abuse can
now be of long continuance. Thus parliament is actually proceeding in
the safe way of reforming itself gradually. This reform is effective, and
its regular and unhurried process is suitable to the spirit of the Consti-
tution, which dreads a sudden shock of any kind, and has grown from
weakness into strength by this very process. Whilst the new system
aims at doing every thing at once ; actually roots up the old parlia-
mentary usage, under the pretence of improving it, gives us at every
step of the process something untried before, and sets us afloat, inexpe-
rienced and ignorant, in a sea of revolution.

For our own part, we are as hostile to abuses, as the most vehement
Whig can be ; and in this mind we shall remain. We will go the
farthest length of the most eager reformer in extinguishing every source
of corruption. We say, away with the Sinecures; away with every
pension that can be shewn to be given without some just reference to
public service ; cut away those lilies of the field that neither sow nor
spin — the Lady Janes and Aramintas j extinguish the Bathurst system
in all its branches. Not one shilling of our money shall with our good
will ever go to qualify one of those people to wear an embroidered pet-
ticoat at court-dance, or drawing-room. Away with such national eye-
sores as Lord Ellenborough's £9,000. a-year sinecure, which does not
cost his lordship the trouble of mending a pen ; extinguish the salaries
which high and mighty princes and earls are not ashamed to put in their
pockets for attendance about court — the laborious and important public
duty of walking into a room before the king, with a white wig on the
head, and a white stick in the hand. Let them all be lopped away with-
out hesitation. Nor shall we be less delighted to see that whole race of
puppyism, the diplomatic dandies, sent back to school ; and stripped of
their salaries, however actively earned by playing the guitar, or flirting
with the painted countesses and marchesas of foreign courts — the con-
tempt even of foreigners, as they are the burthen and disgrace of their
own country.

But let us pause before we throw the whole power of the House of
Commons into the hands of the rabble ; for what else than the rabble
would be the majority of the householders at ten pounds annual rent.
It has been distinctly stated on the returns of the revenue, that an im-
mense number of those householders have not even the means of paying
their rates ; and are at this moment receiving parish allowance—are
paupers. Is it of such persons that the constituency of England is to

1831.] Parliamentary Reform. 363

be formed. What house is there that does not pay £10. rent ? The
direct result would be, that the members would be returned by a mob ;
and that the House of Commons would be so far from representing any
thing else, that it would itself be in constant submission to that mob.
Liverpool has now, we believe, 5,000 electors ; and the scenes disclosed,
and disclosing, before the Committee trying the election for bribery,
may lead us to think Liverpool sufficiently in the hands of the rabble
as it is. But the new system would give it 14,000 electors, generally
of a still lower class, we may imagine with what an increase to the
purity of election. But a House of Commons returned exclusively by the
influence of the £10. householders, would be almost totally composed
of men who had won their way into the House by flattering the passions
and follies, or pledging themselves to gratify the revenge of the multi-
tude. But such a House, from its very nature, would rapidly come into
direct collision with the House of Lords. The lower orders in no land
have any strong affection for the higher ; and it would be the highest
delight of the populace to curtail the privileges, in the idea of mortify-
ing the pride of the peerage. A House elected on the strictly popular
principle would stand in a situation of natural antipathy and contrast to
the House representing the great estates and hereditary honours of the
kingdom. Before a Session was over they must clash. Every day
some point of business arises in which the privileges of both Houses are
involved, and the most violent collision is now prevented only by the cir-
cumstance, that the interests of the peerage are now virtually repre-
sented in the House of Commons. There the collision takes place, and
the crush of the peerage is thus prevented. But let a House of Com-
mons on the new system, strengthened in every step by the popular
force, and rendered absolutely irresistible, as it must be, by being the
direct instrument of its masters and creators, the multitude, feel itself
resisted in any measure, however rash and unconstitutional, by the
House of Lords, and that House must be broken into fragments at once.
The House of Commons has the purse and the physical force, the House
of Lords nothing but its parchments. What must be the result of such
a contest ? But what would be the first demands made by the multi-
tude on their instrument and slave the House of Commons ? There is
no concealment on the point. Interference with tithes is one of the
most popular topics even now, and would unquestionably form one of the
most immediate and popular employments of a New House of Commons.
The measure may be either bad or good. But it would certainly be
resisted by the peerage. Then would come the collision; and the
House of Lords would be broken down in a moment. The plausible
outcry would be, as Canning expressed it — ' ' Is an unreformed House
of Lords to be suffered to counteract the will of a reformed House of
Commons ? The result would be its fall, and after it that of the crown ;
for the Peers are now the chief bulwark between the crown and the pos-
sible rashness or violence of the Commons. The result again would be a
repetition of the scenes of Charles the First's reign. The crown would
either appeal to the remaining loyalty of the empire, and defend itself
by force ; or it would perish without a civil war, and a republic would
be the substitute. But what has been the experience of England in
1648, and of France in 1793 ? No republic on a large scale can ever
permanently subsist in Europe ; for the obvious reason, that the close
contact in which the European states exist renders war inevitable ; and

3 A 2

364 Parliamentary Reform. £ApniL,

that the army as inevitably puts the power into the hands of its general.
When in England, we see Cromwell seizing the supreme power, and
Monk bartering it away ; and in France, Napoleon scourging and
chaining the fierceness of republicanism into the most submissive and
scandalous slavery ; we cannot plead ignorance of the natural result of
a democratic revolution."

We are as hostile as the most hostile jacobin to the bribery and base-
ness practised at elections ; but those are the abuse, not the law. We
would punish in the severest manner all pecuniary means of entering
the House ; and send every elector who took a bribe, every representa-
tive who offered it, and every boroughdealer, for fourteen years to
New South Wales. There should be no pretence for any man's saying,
that seats were sold like bullock-stalls in Smithfield: and all those
odious bargains which the " Reformers" have so often flung into the
teeth of the aristocracy ; all that alleged scale of prices for the representa-
tion, should be abolished, under penalties equivalent to the loss of cha-
racter and fortune. But all this might be done, and will be done, and
is doing every day, without that desperate plunge into experiment
which makes the " Reform Bill" of Lord John Russell a terror to every
rational man in England.

We demand what is to be the contemplated good of this measure,
supposing it succeeds to the fullest extent, and supposing that by a dis-
solution to-morrow, it should bring into the House a new assemblage of
men dear to the million ? Is it intended to lower the interest of the
national debt ? Is it intended to cut down the allowances necessary to
the decent subsistence of Royalty in the realm ? Is it intended to break
the church establishment into " the dust and powder of individuality/'
and send the religious community to learn their religion in the cheap
shops of methodism, or to embrace Presbyterianism and Republicanism
together ? If it does not those, we are at a loss to know what it is to do.
Those we are certain would be the most acceptable services to the new
constituents by which the new members will be sent to their new
House ; and if they began with these things how long would they
abstain from any object that might attract popular cupidity ? In
France, before the " reformed parliament" had sat three years, it had
voted monarchy a nuisance, religion a fable, and property a nonentity —
it had exiled the whole body of the clergy and the nobles, and a vast
multitude of opulent and valuable members of the professions — it had
confiscated the lands of the church, the corporations, and the charitable
institutions. After having covered the world with the exiles of France,
and France itself with beggary, it plunged, at the popular demand for
plunder, into a war of robbery on its feeblest neighbour, Holland, which
brought on a war with the whole of Europe. In this period it had
three successive constitutions, the guillotine in the streets of every city,
which cost it eighteen thousands of its chief people, and a civil war in
the provinces, which cost it four hundred thousand. But the services of
its regenerated parliament were not over — it finally sold the people to a
dictator, who crushed even the remnant of liberty left by the guillo-
tine ; drove the population, by whole provinces, like sheep to the
slaughter, and after a waste of two millions of lives, brought ruin back
into 'the bowels of France, and gave up Paris twice to a foreign con-
queror.

If those lessons had been of a remote age, we might have talked of

1831.] Parliamentary Reform. 365

the colouring of romance, but those are things that have passed before
the living eye, and are yet sounding in the living ear. We may say, if
we will, that things which happened on the other side of a straight
fifteen miles wide cannot by possibility happen on this side ; that the pas-
sions of a Frenchman for plunder, power and revenge, are on a different
construction from those of an Englishman — that if a French mob is all
extravagance, an English one is all gravity, wisdom, and respect for
property, law and religion"; that we have no Captain Swing among us,
and that our assizes do not present the most formidable instances of sul-
len excess, stubborn depravity, and ferocious violence, to be found in
any country of Europe. But until all this can be proved, we must be
suffered to shrink from a system altogether incoherent, rash and uncon-
stitutional, palpably contemptuous of experience, mistaking hazard for
security, and in the guise of renovation forcing on us REVOLUTION.

APHORISMS ON MAN, BY THE LATE WILLIAM HAZLITT.
[Continued from page 632, Vol. X.}

XL VIII.

The world does not start fair in the race of time : one country has run
its course before another has set out or even been heard of. Riches,
luxury, and the arts, reach their utmost height in one place, while the
rest of the globe is in a crude and barbarous state ; decline thence-
forward, and can no more be resuscitated than the dead. The twelve
old Etruscan cities are stone walls, surrounded with heaps of cinders:
Rome is but the tomb of its ancient greatness. Venice, Genoa, are
extinct ; and there are those who think that England has had her day.
She may exclaim in the words of Gray's Bard — " To triumph and to
die are mine." America is just setting out in the path of history, on the
model of England, without a language of its own, and with a continent
instead of an island to run its career in — like a novice in the art, who
gets a larger canvas than his master ever had to cover with his second-
hand designs.

XLIX.

It was shrewdly observed that the ruin of states commences with the
accumulation of people in great cities, which conceal and foster vice and
profligacy.

L.

The world, said a sensible man, does not on the whole grow much
worse, nor abandon itself to absolute licentiousness, because as people
have children growing up, they do not wish them to be reprobates ; but
give them good advice and conceal their failings from them. This in
each successive generation brings morality on its legs again, however
sceptical in virtue or hardened in vice the old may become through
habit or bad example.

LI.

As children puzzle you by asking explanations of what they do not
understand, many grown people shine in company and triumph over
their antagonists by dint of ignorance and conceit.

366 Aphorism* on Man. [ APRIL,

LII.

A certain bookseller wanted Northcote to write a history of art in all
ages and countries, and in all its ramifications and collateral bearings.
It would have taken a life to execute it ; but the projector thought it
was as easy to make the book as to draw up the title-page. Some minds
are as sanguine from a want of imagination, as others are from an excess
of it : they see no difficulty or objection in the way of what they under-
take, and are blind to every thing but their own interest and wishes.

LIII.

An outcry is raised against the distresses of literature as a tax upon
the public, and against the sums of money and unrepaid loans which
authors borrow of strangers or friends. It is not considered that but for
authors we should still have been in the hands of tyrants, who rioted in
the spoil of widows and orphans, and swept the fortunes of individuals
and the wealth of provinces into their pouch It will be time enough to
be alarmed when the Literary Fund has laid its iron grasp on fat abbey
lands and portly monasteries for the poor brethren of the Muses, has
establishments like those of the Franciscan and Dominican Friars for its
hoary veterans or tender novices, and has laid half the property of the
country under contribution. Authors are the ideal class of the present
day, who supply the brains of the community with " fancies and good-
nights," as the priests did of old ; and who cultivating no goodly vine-
yard of their own to satisfy the wants of the body, are sometimes entitled,
besides their pittance, to ask the protection of taste or liberality. After
all, the fees of Parnassus are trifling in comparison with the toll of
Purgatory.

LIV.

There are but few authors who should marry: they are already
wedded to their studies and speculations. Those who are accustomed
to the airy regions of poetry and romance, have a fanciful and peculiar
standard of perfection of their own, to which realties can seldom come
up ; and disappointment, indifference, or disgust, is too often the result.
Besides, their ideas and their intercourse with society make them fit for
the highest matches. If an author, baulked of the goddess of his
idolatry, marries an ignorant arid narrow-minded person, they have no
language in common : if she is a blue-stocking, they do nothing but
wrangle. Neither have most writers the means to maintain a wife and
family without difficulty. They have chosen their part, the pursuit of
the intellectual and abstracted; and should not attempt to force the
world of reality into a union with it, like mixing gold with clay. In
this respect, the Romish priests were perhaps wiser. " From every
work they challenged essoin for contemplation's sake." Yet their
celibacy was but a compromise with their sloth and supposed sanctity.
We must not contradict the course of nature, after all.

LV.

There is sometimes seen more natural ease and grace in a common
gipsy-girl than in an English court- circle. To demand a reason why,
is to ask why the strolling fortune-teller's hair and eyes are black, or her
face oval.

1831.] [ 367 ]

FIRST OF APRIL ODE TO AMERICA :
GENUINE BY A NATIVE POET.

LAND of sublime posterity !

Great scorner of the present time !
Thou proud, magnificent to be —

Of all earth's climes the proudest clime ; —

To thee what's England ? An old drudge ;

A blacksmith— shoemaker — coalheaver ;
Her volumes perishable fudge,

While even thy ballads last for ever.

What's Ireland, and her patriot sons,
Compared, thou pearl of earth, to thee,

Where every banished rascal runs,
And cheats the world — at liberty ?

Where shall the fire-winged Muse find scope,

What ocean give the mighty shell,
What lungs of more than brass shall ope,

Thy grand futurity to tell ?

Bold virgin, vestured in a shroud

Red with a thousand future fields,
Thy only crown shall be a cloud,

Such as the smoke of empires yields.

Thy throne shall " crest the mount of Time,"

From whose eternal brow the flood
Shall pour, to sweep the world's last crime,

A cataract of flame and blood.

Thou'lt speak as nations never spoke ;

Thy words be lightning — looks be thunder :
All earth shall seek thy glorious yoke —

Nay, e'en the Chicasaws knock under.

Thy bed shall be the rushing storm ;

Thy serenade, the ocean's roar ;
Thy guard, Destruction's daemon form,

Thy supper, gunpowder and gore !

Thy softest smile shall be the look

Of seas where sweeps the fierce typhoon,

When Beelzebub comes down to cook
His rice in India's grim monsoon !

What if the recreant nations laugh,

And call thee slaver, tinker still —
Call thee half-Irish, Indian half—

Thou'lt ask but time to pay their bill.

What are some dozen centuries

In lives of nations such as thou ?
Give thee but time, and thou shalt rise,

While Europe is, what thou art now.

I see thy fleets the ocean crowd,

A hundred thousand of the line !
With every flag before them bowed —

Earth— Portsmouth— Plymouth— thine, all thine !

368 First of April Ode to America. [APRIL,

I see thy heroes — not such men

As creep on Europe's dwarfish shore —
All grenadiers, from six feet ten

(The lowest size) to seven feet four.

Mother of eloquence, whose touch

Shall on thy triumphs set the seal ;
Essence of Indian, German, Dutch,

Of Yankee slang, and Irish yell !

Give thee some dozen centuries,

Down goes the fame of Greece and Rome ;

While man uplifts his dazzled eyes,
Mocked by the soarings of thy plume.

Thy armies, millions in a corps,

Earth trembling at their mighty tread,
Shall march o'er earth's remotest shore,

By Yankee Alexanders led.

Ay, let the world say what it will,

There's greatness stamped upon thy frame ;

There's not a hedge-row, hut, or rill,
But now puts all the world to shame.

Thy rocks are of the rockiest flint ;

Thy hills are all but in the sky ;
Thy bog, if Satan's self were in't,

Not all his fires could keep him dry.

Wait but some dozen centuries,

And when old Europe's an old fool,
Shall gardens in those desarts rise,

And every pig shall wear its wool.

What if the land is mire one half,

And t'other sand, or salt, or stone,
When Europe writes her epitaph,

Thine is the universal throne.

Then where the Mississippi rolls

His muddy tide through mire and fen,
Shall poets o'er their midnight coals

Dip for posterity the pen.

Then villas — not such plaster things

As glitter on old England's plain,
But palaces, for Nature's kings —

Shall tell where Nature's monarchs reign.

Oh ! glories of the coming ages,

Halt on your march, and spare your bard ;

Hail, native land of bards and sages,
Like your own bunting banner, starred.

Where'er on thee my gaze I fix,

I see th' unknown, the great to come.
Though now thy soul were dull as Styx,

Thy sages all a Hunt or Hume ; —

Yet pass a little thousand years,

And earth before thy flag shall fall ;
And, spite of dead men's scoffs and sneers,

The Yankee shall lead off the ball !

1831.] [ 369 ]

THE WIFE OF THE POLISH PATRIOT.*
BY THE AUTHOR OP " THE DEMON-SHIP."

IT was on the night of the memorable 14th September, 1812, that
Aimee Ladoinski stood watching from her window the advancing troops
of the great Emperor of the West, as they pushed their way through the
silent and deserted streets of Moscow. The French were entering as
victors ; but it was not this circumstance — although Aimee was a native
of France — which caused her bosom to throb high with expectation.
Her husband had been a Polish settler at Moscow, but, on the first news
of insurrection in his native land, had hastily, and in disguise, quitted
the Russian capital, and repaired to what he deemed the scene of his
country's political regeneration ; and now, in the armed train of the
conqueror, he was returning as a victor to the captured metropolis of
his country's oppressor. To Aimee' s inexperienced eye, it seemed as if
those long files were interminable — as if Western Europe had poured
her whole population into the drear and uninviting dominions of the
Czars. It was almost nightfal ere the tread of arms in Aimee's dwell-
ing, and the sound of a voice, commanding, in a stern tone of discipline,
the orderly conduct of his military followers, announced the arrival of
Captain Ladoinski. After the first emotions of meeting were over, and
while the patriot still fondly eyed his wife and boy, the young French-
woman began to scan with anxious affection the tall form and manly
features of her husband. " The helmet has worn the hair from my
brow," said the Pole, unconsciously answering her looks, " and that
gives a lengthened and sharp appearance to the features." — " Have I
said that I mark a change in years ?" asked his wife, keeping on him
the same uneasy regard; — " but wherefore is this arm bound?" — " And
thou askest a Polish soldier wherefore he wears a bandage !" said the
husband, endeavouring to laugh ; " ask him why he carries a lance or
musket. — But you shall look to this awful wound, which casts such a
cloud on that fair brow ; and let my boy be present, that he may see
betimes how lightly a patriot holds a patriot's wound ; and that he may
learn, like a soldier's son, to look boldly and unblanchingly on blood
that is spilled in the cause of justice." The husband half-jested ; but
bandage, and lint, and linen were instantly in the wife's hand. " Now
I grow dainty, and know not how to resist this temptation," said the
soldier, as turning his back to Aimee he unrolled a binding of parch-
ment, and removed a dressing of moss from his arm. They could not
escape the vigilant observation of Aimee. " And these/' she said,
shuddering, " are all the alleviations which your wretched hospital
provision affords to suffering bravery !" — " And enough, too," answered
Roman Ladoinski ; " soldiers are not the soft ware to fear a little rub-
bing in this world's wild warfare." He added, with an involuntary look
of seriousness, if not gloom, ' ' Would to Heaven that I had been the
only, or even the worst sufferer, through that Scythian desart of Scy-
thian monsters which we have traversed ! — would to Heaven that the

* It is proper that the reader should be informed that this sketch is not a ficti-
tious narrative of adventures, but that it is derived from a personal knowledge of
the lady whose escape it records. Nor has the writer found it necessary to have
the slightest recourse to caricature, in the description of the remarkable interview
with two distinguished persons at Smolensk.

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 64. 3 B

370 The Wife of the Polish Patriot. [APRIL,

Russian sword had anticipated the weary work of famine which her
hungry lands have beheld in our miserable hosts !"

Night fell, and the boy sunk to sleep in his father's arms ; while the
soldier, as he sat by the expiring embers of the fire, conversing with his
wife, sank his voice to a half- whisper, in order not to disturb the child-
ish slumbers of his little son. The under-tone in which they spoke, the
, quiet of the chamber, and even the partial obscurity in which it was
enveloped, seemed to impart repose to the spirit of the soldier, and con-
fidence to that of his wife.

Suddenly, the ceiling of the apartment glowed with a momentary
and ruddy light. Aimee started. The light died away, and she resumed
her gentle-toned discourse. Again that fierce and lurid glow shone into
the chamber, broader and redder than before, and so as to shew in ruddy
and minute brightness every article of furniture in the apartment, and
the features of its wondering occupants. It shone on the roused and
determined visage of the soldier, shed a ruddy hue on the ashy counte-
nance of his wife, and played, like an infernal light round the cheek of
a cherub, on that innocent, slumbering boy. Even the lance of the Pole,
which stood in an angle of the apartment, glanced brightly in the sud-
den blaze. " Well said — well said !" exclaimed Ladoinski," dauntlessly,
and even gaily, addressing his characteristic weapon — " thou hast not
shone out thy appeal in vain ; thy hint is kindly given." He was speed-
ily armed, and preparing to sally forth,, when an order from the French
sovereign, commanding the troops in that direction to keep their quarters,
relieved the fears of Aimee.

It is not necessary to inflict upon the reader a lengthened description
of a scene so well known, and so often described, as the famous confla-
gration of Moscow. The blazing streets and palaces of the proud Russian
capital are only here glanced at, as an introduction to the character of
the humble Aimee Ladoinski,

With no reckless or unwondering eye, it may easily be imagined, did
she stand gazing (on the fearful night of the 15th) over that awful city,
which wildly blazed, like one unbroken sheet of fire, only varied by the
inequalities of the buildings which fed its flames. " Alas !" said Aimee,
" alas ! for the mad ambition of man, that can drag thousands of his
fellow-beings over weary Scythian wastes — like those you have traversed
• — to behold, as their reward, the destruction of this fair city. Oh ! turn,
my beloved Roman — turn, ere too late, from following the car of this
heartless victor. Sheath the sword, which may serve indeed for the
despot's aggrandizement, but can hardly accomplish the liberty of your
country." — " Oh, believe me, Aimee," answered the soldier, " it is no
light cause that has roused your husband to arms ; no senseless admira-
tion of the dazzling qualities of yon brilliant man ; no boyish transport
at wielding a lance ; no egotistical ambition, cowering beneath the
cloak of patriotism. The height of my personal ambition is to behold
the day when I need not blush, and hang my head to call myself a Pole.
Scarce have I been roused by the same rapturous and chivalrous spirit
now abroad among my countrymen. No — mine is no awakening ; I
have never slumbered, during my country's degradation. I have sleep-
lessly watched for the moment of her emancipation. And what if
Heaven render this western emperor — this delegate of God's vengeance
on Europe — the instrument of its accomplishment !" Roman spoke in
the ardent and figurative language of his country ; but Aimee's judg-

1831.] The Wife of the Polish Patriot. 371

ment remained unshaken. " And, wherefore," she said, " should
Poland find such solitary grace in the eyes of Europe's conqueror ? Shall
all the nations lie prostrate at his feet, and Poland alone be permitted to
stand by his side as an equal ? Be wise, my dear Ladoinski. You con-
fess that the conqueror lent but a lifeless ear to the war-cry of your coun-
try. Be timely wise — open your eyes, and see that this cold-hearted
victor — wrapped in his own dark and selfish aims — uses the sword of the
patriot Pole only, like that of the prostrate Prussian, to hew the way to
his own throne of universal dominion." — " Thou art the daughter of a
French Bourbonite, Aimee," said her husband, smiling, " and canst not
away with this lawless successor to the throne of thine ancient line of
sovereigns. Now I, as a Pole, hold not a monarch's elected right so
cheaply." — " But Austria, Prussia, Italy, Switzerland, Spain, did nqt
surely elect him their sovereign," answered Aimee, warmly ; " nor shall
the freedom of Poland arise from the ashes of a whole continent's
liberty. Believe it, this proud man did not enslave all Europe to
become the liberator of Poland. Ah ! trust me, that is but poor freedom
which consists only in a choice of masters. O Ladoinski, Ladoinski ! give
up this mad emprise ; return to the bosom of your family ; and when
your compatriots arise to assert their rights at the call of their country,
and not at the heartless beck of a stranger despot, Aimee herself will
buckle the helmet on your brow." — " Thou art a noble-minded woman,
my Aimee," said Roman, " and perhaps my patriotism shewed strongest
when it drove me even from thy side at the call of my country ; but he
that has once drawn the sword for her, even though it were in an evil
hour, may not lightly sheathe it. — But mark, mark, how yon sea of fire
rises and roars, covering, as to us it now seems, the face of earth, and
mingling with the clouds of heaven !" — " Merciful God !" ejaculated
Aimee, " can even the judgment of the great and terrible day shew
more fearful than this portentous night r Hark ! the crackling and
thundering come nearer and nearer, and the light waxes brighter and
yet more bright. The whole atmosphere seems alive with lurid sparks
and burning brands. See, see ! they begin to fall, thick as snow-flakes,
on our quarter !" — " The fire has assuredly reached us," said the Pole,
calmly ; f ' your safety, my Aimee, must be thought of. For me, I leave
not the post assigned me without military orders." — " Then I remain
with you," said Aimee, in a steady and immovable voice. — " And the
child," said the Pole, looking on his son — " shall I send him away, in
this night of confusion, without a mother's protection ?" — " Alas !"
exclaimed the young mother, " he must not remain to perish — he must
not go forth without a parent's guidance. God direct me !" She looked
alternately at her husband and her boy, who was clinging to her gar-
ments, and screaming with childish terror — then said, in a tone from
which there seemed no appeal, " We all remain !" Aimee's determina-
tion was happily only destined to prove to the Pole the strength of her
conjugal devotion; for ere he could exercise a husband's authority over
his gentle and delicate, but high-souled wife, an order for the evacua-
tion of the city arrived from head-quarters.

With difficulty the party reached the suburbs through streets of flame,
showers of burning brands, and an atmosphere which almost threatened
suffocation. Ere they reached their destination, the Pole cast a farewell
glance on the ruined and blazing capital. " Ha ! proud Moscow," he
said, " the hand of Heaven's vengeance hath slumbered long, but hat!?,

3 B 2

372 The Wife of the Polish Patriot. [APRIL,

at length, found thee. Go to — thou art visited for thy sins. Remember
captured Warsaw ; let her pillaged churches and slaughtered citizens
come before thee. They who shall pass the heap of ashes that was
Moscow, shall say, ' Here once stood the proud capital of the conquerors
of Poland !' " — " Oh, imprecate not Heaven's vengeance !" said Aimee,
anxiously. — " I deal not out God's vengeance ; I mark his hand, and am
wise : and for the fire that is devouring the capital of my country's foe,
— O Aimee, Aimee ! I see in it not the ruin of Russia, but of her
invader ; I mark in it the dark preface to a page written, within and
without, with lamentations, and mourning, and bitter woe. Yon fires
that heat this atmosphere to suffocation are but the prelude to a knell,
which will be tolled by a fiercer element over the bodies of the brave that
shall fall, not by the sword of the enemy, but by the piercing wintry
blasts of this drear country."

In the fearful month of November, 1812, the gentle and delicate
Aimee found herself seated in a, baggage-waggon, amidst stores, and
spoil, and wounded men, carelessly huddled together, while the latter
craved in vain either for death or professional assistance. It is well
known that most of the French residents in Moscow, either from dread
of the indiscriminating vengeance of the Russians, or from divers
motives, accompanied the French army in its disastrous retreat on
Poland. Among these was Aimee Ladoinski, who, in the situation we
have described, supported on her knees the head of her wounded and
half-senseless husband, while she still pressed to her bosom the child,
whose feeble cry of cold and hunger often died away into a sleep, from
which even his mother was sometimes fain to arouse him, lest the mer-
ciless rigour of the night should produce the frozen slumber of death.
Ladoinski had received a sabre cut in heading a brave skirmish on the
preceding day. Sometimes she hoped it might be trivial — often she
feared it would prove mortal ; but still she busied herself in changing
her husband's posture, in chafing his limbs, in listening to his intermit-
tant respiration. vThe road they were travelling was encumbered by
stragglers, unable to keep up with the main body, by abandoned artil-
lery, and by baggage- waggons, whose horses were fast falling under
cold, fatigue, and want of forage. Smolensko, whither they were
destined, was, however, the watch-word which still kept alive the
courage and hopes of the exhausted troops. At length the vehicle
which contained the Pole and his family suddenly stopped. Aimee
heard others still crawling on their miserable journey, but theirs moved
not. A strange misgiving almost crushed for a moment the heart of
Aimee. She listened, and at length all seemed silence around them.
It is a well-known fact, that many of the wretched sufferers, whose
wounded bodies were placed in the wains, laden with military stores, or
the spoils of Moscow, met an untimely fate from the hands of the sordid
drivers. These fiends, loitering behind in unfrequented places, relieved
themselves, by murder, of the care of the helpless beings who only
retarded their progress, and increased the weight of their waggons.
Perhaps some faint report of those practices half recurred to the mind
of Aimee as the silence deepened around her. She listened yet more
attentively. " Not yet," said a voice ; " perhaps there be others behind
us." What the responsive voice uttered Aimee could not distinctly

1831.] The Wife of the Polish Patriot. 373

hear; but the concluding words were — ua kinder act to Jinish them
than to leave them to the tender mercies of such a night, or the pike of
the Cossack/7 Aimee' s blood ran cold ; she pressed her husband and
child closer to her, and then softly looked out from the solitary wain to
see if any aid yet remained in view. The moon, shining sickly through
a northern haze, shewed one drear sheet of snow, broken into inequali-
ties only by the fallen bodies of men and horses, which the descending
flakes were fast covering. Nothing was to be seen but here and there
(at a distance that forbade the reach of a voice) a dark spot or two which
might indicate a crawling wain, or body of re-collecting stragglers ; and
nothing was to be heard save, from time to time, a faint and far-off yell
of some descending cloud of Cossacks falling on the hapless, lagging
remains of a French corps. The pitiless northern blast drove blinding
storms of sleet and snow into the covered vehicle as Aimee looked forth.
But her feelings of horror gradually sobered down. Aimee was sur-
prised— at first almost startled — to find how little they affected her.
She tried to rouse herself — to think of some appeal by which she might
move the steeled bosom of the wain drivers ; but a languid dislike to
exertion stole over her. Her attention to her beloved Roman changed
to a feeling of indifference ; her hold on her boy loosened, and the
devoted Aimee began to lapse into that cold and benumbing slumber
which, in those frigid regions, so often precedes the deep and final repose
of the sleeper.

Such might have proved the dreamless slumber of Aimee Ladoinski,
but she was roused by the violent forcing of some cordial down her
throat. Aimee once more opened her eyes. She was still seated in the
wain ; but the rising sun was reddening with his slanting and wintry
beams the drear and unbroken sheets of snow which stretched behind
her, while its rays tinged with a cold and sickly crimson the minarets
and half-ruined buildings of a partially-dismantled city which lay before
her. This city was Smolensk, a depot of the French army, and the
longed-for object of its miserable and half-starved stragglers.

In a detachment which was sent out to reconnoitre the coming crowd
of phantoms were several individuals who, with or without authority,
visited the baggage-waggons of their newly-arrived compatriots. — " Why,
here is a woman !" exclaimed a young French cornet, who, with a com-
panion or two, had entered the wain where Aimee was sitting stiff,
erect, and senseless. " Here is a young woman ; and, by Heavens, a fair
and delicate one. How came such commodity, I wonder, in this mili-
tary wain ; and a little boy — and alive too ! How could so tender a
thing weather out the last fearful night? But, soft — she breathes.
'Gad, I am Frenchman enough not to leave such pretty stuff to perish
for want of a taste of my pocket-pistol/' He tried to pour some brandy
from a small bottle down her throat. " 'Gad, her white teeth are set as
close as a French column. I am sorry to use force, Madam, but you
shan't die for want of a little muscular exertion on my part. So — there's
nothing like Cognac — she's coming to, I perceive/'

Aimee and her boy were lifted from the wain, and quickly moved
forward through the noisy and increasing throng. " Why, this is the
wife of Captain Ladoinski," said one of his companions ; " I have seen
her in better times and fitter company. I know her by her delicate
features and complexion. She is certainly the wife of Roman Lado-
inski."— " Say rather his widow/' observed a passing straggler ; " for

374 The Wife of the Polish Patriot. [ APRIL,

I saw Captain Ladoinski thrown into the cart with her yester-even, and
neither he nor his companions are now to be found/' — " Died of his
wounds/' said the first speaker, carelessly > " or was perhaps disposed of
by the wain-drivers, who had still enough French blood left, unfrozen
by this savage climate, not to lay their hands on a woman — and such a
fair one too." The last words finished the work of resuscitation in the
hapless wife. Arrived at the cornet's quarters — " My husband, my
husband !" she exclaimed, looking wildly round, yet still grasping her
boy, as if he were rendered dearer by the fear of other bereavement.
"Ye look like Frenchmen, and should be tender and pitiful to a
despairing woman !" The young officers protested their ignorance of
her husband's fate, and declared that the wain-drivers had disappeared
ere they commenced their search of the waggon, in which they had
found no living creature save herself and the child. There was a some-
thing in Aimee' s appearance and manner, which, combined with the
circumstance of her being the wife of an officer in the same service as
themselves, imposed a sort of respect on the Frenchmen. They were,
moreover, affected by her beauty, her singular situation, and deep dis-
tress ; and in order to institute an inquiry as to the fate of Ladoinski,
they succeeded in obtaining for their fair protegee an interview with
two of the most potential personages who conducted the celebrated
retreat from Moscow. Aimee had now spent two days of fear and
anguish at Smolensk, and she received, this news with grateful joy, not
unmingled with surprise. It was, however, at this period of affairs
generally seen, that the special protection of the Poles, in whose country
France could now alone hope for friendly shelter, was a necessary and
prime act of policy on the part of the French commanders.

With a beating heart, and still holding her boy in her arms, the deli-
cate and timid, but morally courageous Aimee, was conducted to a
palace, the exterior of which was still black with recent conflagration,
and its once strong towers evidently nodding to a speedy downfal. Not
without ceremony Aimee was ushered into an apartment whose walls
•were partially consumed at one end, while at the other it was occupied
by splendid, but disorderly and half-scorched furniture. In this apart-
ment two general officers were standing, engaged, as it seemed, in the
very undignified task of tearing from time to time some pieces of black
bread from a single loaf which lay on a bare table, and beside which
stood a flask of brandy, whose contents, as no cup or glass was visible,
could only have been obtained by a direct application of the lips of the
princely quafFers. One of these officers was considerably above the
middle stature, and, at first sight, presented an exterior striking, and
even noble; but on a minuter inspection, perhaps his face appeared
rather shewy than regularly handsome, and his mien and person more
dashing than dignified. Both his figure and countenance had evidently
experienced greater injury from recent fatigue and privation than their
owner was either willing to think himself, or acknowledge to others.
His dress was clearly still an object of attention, and was eminently cal-
culated to shew off to the best advantage the handsome and martial
form it enveloped. The second personage, though far from under-
sized, was somewhat below the stature of his companion, and possessed
a countenance comely, prepossessing, and of a milder expression than
that of his compeer in arms. He had not the decidedly military and
shewy bearing of his brother mareschal — in whose countenance an air

1831.] The Wife of the Polish Patriot. 375

of audacity, and even effrontery, was mingled with the unquestionable
bravery that characterized it ; but in intellectuality of expression, and
in a certain firmness, which seemed to result rather from greater depth
of character than from any physical advantage, he was evidently the
superior of his companion. To the air of one accustomed to martial
authority was added a certain courteous suavity of manner, which indi-
cated the gentleman as well as the soldier.

Aim.ee' s conductor left her near the door of the apartment, and, ap-
proaching the personages just described, with uncovered head, announced
her arrival. The taller officer magnificently motioned her to come for-
ward, while the other made a courteous, but abortive, attempt to push
towards her the crumbling, yet still heavy remains of a damask-covered
chair. With mournful, but graceful self-possession, Aimee respect-
fully declined the proffered courtesy. " A pretty personage, i'faith,"
observed the taller mareschal aloud to his companion. Then beginning
to address Aimee rapidly, and, as it seemed, in sentences which admit-
ted of no periods, — " I think, good Madam/' he said, evidently forgetful
of a story to which he had been a careless listener, " I think you are the
widow of a Polish soldier, and come to beg at our hands the body of
your late husband ; we wish it lay in our power to serve you, but I
own, my good Madam, I see not how that may be, unless our breath
were strong enough to thaw the snow, that forms, I believe, an indif-
ferently thick winding-sheet to all the fine fellows that have fallen
between this town and Moscow ; but courage, take heart, the frost will
keep all whole and entire till next July — or whatever month a Russian
summer may begin in — and by that time we shall be here again — at least"
(rather sneeringly) " if we believe all that is said in a certain quarter —
and then the country will be open, and you can pay what rights of
sepulture you please to your brave fellow — always supposing that you
are not better employed with another husband, which — judging from
your personal merits — may prove the likelier occupation of the two —
and outside," he added, stroking his vest rather complacently, " is, after
all, the first thing we look to." — The bold mareschal had here no inten-
tion of wounding the widow's feelings, nor was he totally devoid of
feeling himself; but he was naturally incapable of shewing any delicate
or acceptable sympathy towards those of others. His companion inter-
rupted him. " This lady," he said, with a benevolence slightly dashed
by policy, " this lady is, we yet hope, the wife, and not the widow of
the valiant Captain Ladoinski, whom we all remember as the brave offi-
cer that has so often shone in the van of our battles. If she will tell
us what she demands at our hands, we will, as far as our now somewhat
narrowing power may permit, endeavour to serve her."

With trembling voice and limbs, but with the simple eloquence of truth
and feeling, Aimee told her tale, and craved inquisition among the wain-
drivers. The first mareschal, in whose handsome countenance wras an
incongruous mixture of fierceness, and even ferocity, with an odd kind
of good nature, listened, not without a degree of gallant attention, to
her story and her petition. " Madam, we will look to this," he said,
with some assumption of importance. " You interest us, and we will
do something for you. — Egad," he said, speaking aside, and winking,
with not much dignity, to his companion, " a modest request this !
Here are we cooped up for a poor half week's rest and refreshment
within this tumble-down Scythian hole, having more on our hands to be

376 The Wife of the Polish Patriot. [APRIL,

done in a few days than could be accomplished in a month, and this
poor soul thinks, forsooth, that we shall turn Smolensk upside down to
look after one dead Pole. Lrkely, i'faith ! as if we died by units— as if
a thousand or two a day was not a good come-off. Splash my uniform,
though, if I am not inclined to serve the woman, so it be in a moderate
and short way. What, ho ! Danvers," he said, calling to an orderly
dragoon who waited on him, " bustle me up an aide-de-camp or two,
and bid them go instantly inquire among the recently arrived baggage-
drivers, if they know ought of the body of one Cornet — Captain Dorn-
browinski — Ladobrowski, of the Fifth Polish Lancers ; and tell the
cattle-driving, dronish knaves they shall answer with their frosty breath
for the captain's safety." The other mareschal added some plainer and
more precise directions. The dragoon's answer — which to the first
speaker was, " Your Majesty shall be obeyed" — to the second, " Your
Excellency shall be served," agitated the hopes and feelings of Aimee
in a new and extraordinary degree. Forgetful for a moment of the
descriptions of Napoleon's person, she exclaimed, addressing the taller
mareschal, with irrepressible emotion, " Am I then in the presence of
the Emperor of the French ?" — <( Good, on my word !" answered the
officer, laughing heartily. " Know, my good woman," he added, gaily,
and rather vauntingly, "that when I stretch out this good arm of mine
(straight from my shoulder — thus), the emperor of all the French, and
the sovereign of half Europe, might pass under it without deranging
his coiffure. No (raising his eyebrows with rather an ironical shrug),
no — the diadem of Naples encircles my brow — a somewhat warmer
throne mine than that of the Czars ; and if you visited my capital., it is
probable I might be able to shew you a palace indifferently better fitted
up than the one I have the infinite honour to occupy at present, and,
without gross exaggeration, perhaps I might add, situated in a some-
what more genial clime." He cast, as he spoke, a half gay, half bitter
glance towards the driving snow-storm without, as if rendered more
chilly by the remembrance of the bright sun that was, at that very
moment, shining over his fair dominions of the south. Aimee made a
suitable reverence to the brave, handsome, and unkingly sovereign of
Naples, and then cast an involuntary glance of fear and doubt towards
his companion. The latter smiled, somewhat amused, and, with a good-
natured shake of the head, said — " No ; I am no emperor/' — " But,
perhaps," observed Murat, in the same reckless tone,' " he might claim
some such title for a step-father, and what" (somewhat sneeringly) " if,
to boot, he had an archduchess, in some sort, for his step-mother ! Per-
haps, too, he may have presided over a region a shade or two more
inviting than the glowing landscape which we behold from the walls of
fair Smolensk. Eh, vice-regal kinsman?" — "Your majesty would,
perhaps, do well to be more guarded in your expressions," replied
Eugene Beauharnois, to whom the fiery Murat's growing disaffection
to the Russian enterprize was no secret. " And now, Madam/' he
added, courteously, " is there aught else in which we can serve you ?
By the trueness of your accent, I believe we may claim you as a com-
patriot ?" — " I am, indeed, the daughter of the Count de Limoisin,
-who" Aimee was meekly beginning, but the uncourtly Joachim in-
terrupted— " O, in sooth, a royalist emigree ! I warrant me well, now,
thou art no lover of thy husband's military master. Nay, tremble not
— we are not perhaps at this moment in such a topping humour of

1831.] The Wife of the Polish Patriot. 377

affection towards a certain quarter, as that we would withdraw our pro-
tection from, or denounce, every one who dared venture to see a mad
head in a mad act. Besides, you have been educated in the old school.
All with you are usurpers that cannot count a whole muster-roll of
ancestors as far back as Socrates, king of Egypt ! Eh ?" — (t I have
heard," said Aimee, in a conciliatory tone, but rather puzzled — " I have
heard that the Emperor of France hath gentle blood in his veins." The
regal son of a pastrycook coloured high, and the viceroy smiled in spite
of himself.

Aimee saw that something was wrong, and was preparing to prefer
one more petition and depart, when an aide-de-camp of the Neapolitan
Sovereign made his appearance. " So please your Majesty/' he said,
I received your gracious orders, and only failed to execute them because
— " — " Oh, sirrah, you found it convenient to disobey orders — perhaps
then I shall find it convenient to send a brace of bullets through your
breast to inquire your gracious reasons." The officer, apparently accus-
tomed to such ebullitions, seemed to wait with an air equally removed
from fear or boldness, to see whether this dignified burst were ended,
and then continued in the same tone as if the last sentence had not been
dismembered from his first address— " because your majesty's orders
reached me not until my brother officers had examined such wain-
drivers as they could fall in with, who protest that Captain Ladoinski
died of cold and of his wounds on the night of the 7th, and was, conse-
quently, ejected from the baggage- waggon. This they are ready to
swear before your highness." — ff Let them keep their swearing to warm
their own frosty breath," said King Joachim. — ' ' You perceive how it is,
Madam — splash my uniform, if I would not have these wain-driving
knaves complimented with a retributive shot or two, on mere suspicion,
and out of respect to you, but you see there is no coming at the truth ;
and as our captain is surely gone, and the frost will probably take all
vengeance into its own hands, I discern not (I say it with regret) aught
else in which we can serve you."

" Then God's will be done," said Aimee, sinking pale and powerless
on the chair that had been proffered her. The benevolent Viceroy of
Italy supported her, and cast a wistful glance or two towards the potent
spirit on the table, as if nought but the absence of any intermediate mode
of conveyance between the flask and the lips prevented his humanely
tendering a cordial to the half-fainting wife. She recovered herself,
however, almost immediately, and quickly rising, said, with great self-
command, tf I thank your Highness — your Majesty — " (she involuntarily
paid the first homage to Eugene) " for the humanity which has turned
your eye, for an instant, on a grieved and powerless woman. I feel at
this moment all the courage of one who has little left to fear of evil in
this world. For me, it now holds nothing — nothing that belongs to me,
save this frail creature." She drew the child towards her, and the feel-
ings she had hitherto controlled began to force their natural vent. Tear
after tear fell on the wan cheek of that fading child. She held him
towards the princes, as if his helpless infancy might better plead for
him than the words for which she found no utterance. Both potentates
were as much affected as we can possibly conceive those to be whose
feelings must necessarily become blunted by the frequent sight of
human woe. " And now," said the lovely woman, " I would only be
bold to crave a safe conduct for this helpless being, and the solitary

M.M. New Scries. VOL. XI.— No. 64. 3 C

378 The Wife of the Polish Patriot. [ApniL,

parent God hath left him, through a country which, to a Frenchwoman,
and the widow of a Polish rebel, would afford nothing but a grave.
Ladoinski fought under the banners of France — his boy claims French
protection. Ladoinski took up the sword of the patriot under the smile
of your emperor — shall his son, generous princes, ask in vain a passage
to the Country in defence of whose rights his father found an untimely
grave ?" — " No, by Heavens !" said Murat, answering rather his own
feelings than any plan he had conceived for the unfortunate widow's
safety. " The King of Naples," observed Eugene, kindly explaining,
" heads our cavalry, and, therefore, must be in the van of our army.
The emperor's division leaves Smolensk on the 13th, mine will follow
on the 14th; I offer you such protection as the commander of soldiers
drooping with fatigue, shivering with cold, and harassed by a sleepless
enemy, may tender. The divisions of Davoust and Ney will leave
Smolensk yet later. You will thus gain a few days' farther shelter, but
will be more exposed in the march that follows. The rear of a retreat-
ing army holds out small guarantee for female safety. You have your
choice." The helpless young mother instantly closed with the prince's
offer ; and unaccustomed to the world, or to camps, excited a smile in
both potentates, by seeming to suppose that she was to prosecute her
journey in the immediate company of the viceroy. " Good, on my
word," said the unkingly sovereign of Naples, laughing aloud. " Tete-
a-tete, I suppose, all the way to Wilna — give you joy, Viceroy. Not a
bad thing, by St. Denis — though, now I bethink me, San Gennaro
were the more fitting saint in my mouth — forget all my Neapolitan good
habits among these Scythian snows." The viceroy, without paying
much attention to the mirth of his regal companion, delivered, inMurat's
presence, orders to his followers for the conveyance of his delicate
young protegee in one of the military baggage-waggons, and authorita-
tively gave out, that he would hold both soldier and driver responsible
for her safety and fair treatment. " There are other female refugees
from Moscow in Smolensk," he added ; " let two or three of those hap-
less womerf find a place in the same vehicle with this lady; and if they
reach Poland in safety, I will give five hundred francs with my own
hand to each driver. Look to it." The grateful mother clasped her
hands, and solemnly invoked a blessing on the generous prince. " God
return your Highness's kindness tenfold into your bosom," she ejacu-
lated. " Amid public trouble and personal danger you have not closed
your heart to the cry of the fatherless. May the Sovereign of earthly
princes bring you in safety through the dangers that throng your path
— may your dying bed be far from the field of blood, surrounded by
faces of love, and smoothed by domestic tenderness — and when the son
you best love clasps his father's knees, and looks up in his face for a
blessing, let the boy whom you have saved return plehsantly on your
memory." Eugene took the boy, and stooped over him for a moment,
perhaps to hide the feelings which the unaffected warmth of this half-
prophetic address excited. " Alas ! good madam," he said, not without
emotion, " I were worse than cruel to excite a confidence in your
bosom which my want of power (for my will I dare boldly answer)
may render groundless. I have said that I can only tender you the pro-
tecting swords of enfeebled arms, the shield of a tottering general, the
precarious shelter of heavy vehicles, that may be abandoned in the per-
secuted and tantalized retreat we are entering on. To the God you have

1831.] The Wife of the Polish Patriot. 379

so feelingly invoked on my behalf, and to the waning power of an unfor-
tunate general, you must trust yourself. Farewell." He courteously
walked with her to the door of the apartment as he spoke.

" We must at all costs keep the Poles in good humour/' he said,
speaking half apologetically to his regal companion, and perhaps not
unwilling to give 4n air of policy to an action which mainly resulted
from feelings of humanity and benevolence. Alas ! for human nature,
which is only fairly drawn when either predominant selfishness, or
alloyed benevolence forms the picture. " And now," added the viceroy,
" adieu to your Majesty. I go to see the rations given out to my sol-
diers. This is no time to play the prince — scarcely the general —
Eugene, at this moment, is only a soldier/' — " Half starved like all his
comrades," replied the fiery king. "Now, by my good sword and
uniform (and I have none oath more solemn), I swear, that were I in
the place of these gallant Frenchmen, dragged — all flushed with victory
— to lose laurel after laurel amid these white wastes, I would take off
my cockade, thus, and trample on it." He trampled indignantly as he
spoke. " Joachim Murat" said the viceroy, firmly, and with an air of
superiority, " there be fitter ears than mine for these ebullitions." As
he was quitting the apartment, the good-humoured and unregal monarch,
half gaily, half bitterly, called after him — " Nay, viceroyal kinsman,
dine in palace with me to-day on regal viands — a fillet of horseflesh,
a-la-Moscow, seasoned with gunpowder, and fricassee cats, are not fare
to be run away from."

It would be tedious to give a detailed account of the sufferings and
privations of Aimee through the perilous journey she had undertaken.
The Grand French Army — or rather its miserable and ghastly phantom
— was now traversing snow-clogged and dismal forests, in order to
attempt the famous, but fatal passage of the Beresina. The imperial
order for the destruction of half the baggage- waggons, and the large
demand for draught horses and oxen, destined to the higher task of
bringing forward artillery, were so many obstructions to the'progress of
our young widow. But Eugene's protection still secured her a vehicle ;
and the knowledge that they were fast nearing the frontiers of Poland,
where she hoped to find friends, and a home for her boy, shed a sickly
gleam of hope into a heart where earthly desires and expectations had
one by one set in a night of the thickest dejection, yet the meekest
resignation. Aimee sat erect in her heavy vehicle, listening to the
shouts which hailed the arrival of the unexpected reinforcement of the
army of Mareschal Victor. She administered a slight refreshment of
black bread to her boy, whose sharp and lengthening features had lost
the cherub roundness that formerly excited a mother's pride. The child
began to take his untempting food with the eagerness of hunger, which
for several weeks had rarely received complete gratification, but, paus-
ing for a moment, he looked his mother wistfully in the face, and laying
his little emaciated hand on her wan cheek, said, fondly, " How is it
that you are never hungry ? I never see you eat. Surely God did not
send all the food to me. Try to be hungry, and eat this morsel. See,
it is as thick as your hand, and so good, that I am obliged to turn away
my face lest I shoulc[ eat it myself/' The mother's tears, which had
hitherto been a dried fountain, began to flow, like a released stream, at
this childish proof of affection and self-denial. While they were thus
engaged, the grand army continued to file in spectral procession along

3C 2

The W(fe of the Polish Patriot. [APRIL,

the ranks of the newly-arrived battalions of Mareschal Victor. As they
passed, a voice said, in Polish, " Forward, lancers !" Aimee started —
she looked from the wain — then reseating herself, murmured, " What a
delusion!" But the sight of the child — his food dropped, his head
thrown back, and his finger on his lips, in the attitude of a listener— was
even more strangely startling to Aimee. She addressed the child, but
he motioned silence, and with an ear still bent towards the passing
troops, softly ejaculated, " Father /" The columns quickly marched
on. The boy, with childish forgetfulness, resumed his food ; and Aimee,
after vainly essaying to question the drivers, or the passers, could only
say, " Never did accents of the living sound so like the voice which is
stilled in yon grave of snow-wreaths/' She paused for a moment; then,
evidently answering her own thoughts, said again, " No — no — it is
impossible. By what miracle could he have reached the army of Vic-
tor ? The fortunate mareschal had left Smolensk ere our straggling,
wretched hosts entered it."

The French reached Studzianka, on the left bank of the Beresina.
Aimee felt that the turning-point which must decide the fate of herself
and her boy, was arrived. On the effecting of that passage depended all
her hopes of freedom — of life ; but still the thoughts of that voice
haunted her mind. Unable to obtain any information from those wholly
uninterested in her queries, she prepared her usual couch in the com-
fortless wain. All that night she could her.r the noise of the workmen
engaged in the fabrication of those bridges over which the troops were
to effect their dangerous passage on the succeeding days. Aimee's dreams
were naturally of terror and blood ; and, as a shout of triumph at length
aroused her senses, her arms were instinctively twined round her child.
She eagerly looked forth from their vehicle. The sun had scarcely risen ;
but by the faint rays of a dawning, whose twilight was rendered stronger
by drear sheets of snow which covered the ground, she could descry the
dreaded forces of the enemy in full retreat from the opposite bank of the
river. Aimee fell on her knees ; she poured out her heart in thankful-
ness ; and taking the little wan hands of that wasted child, clasped them
between her own, and held them together towards heaven with a speech-
less fervency of gratitude, which awed the boy into innocent and won-
dering silence. She continued to gaze on the hosts of cavalry who were
crowding towards the Beresina, and, without waiting for the completion
of the bridges, were swimming their horses across the river, in order to
obtain such a footing on the opposite bank as should enable them to
protect the passage of their comrades. At length the bridges were com-
pleted ; and ceaseless files of soldiers continued to pass over them.
Aimee watched them with a beating heart, hoping that the safe transfer
of each column rendered so much nearer the time of her own passage.
About noon, a shout proclaimed that the Erhperor and his guard had
gained the right bank of the Beresina. At this moment, the vanguard of
the diminished army of Prince Eugene pressed towards the river ; but
ere their generous chief prepared for his own passage, he appeared for
a moment at Aimee's vehicle. Even in the hurry of that crisis, his brief
word of inquiry after her welfare was addressed with his usual easy yet
respectful courtesy ; but there was less of the proud, military gloom of a
defeated Frenchman, and more of hope and animation on his counte-
nance, than Aimee had ever before marked in it. " A few hours of
farther privation, Madam — a little more patience," he said, in a tone of

1831.] The Wife of the Polish Patriot. 381^

manly encouragement — "and your troubles will, I hope, be ended;
Yonder is the country of your brave husband's friends. Our adversaries
have left the way to it clear. Ere sunset, I trust you may find a situa-
tion better fitting your sex and rank. At present, farewell ! — And do
you, as French drivers, look to your conduct, and count on your pro-
mised reward."

The unexpected and impolitic retreat of the Russians, and the hitherto
successful passage of the troops, now caused many a heart, which, on
the preceding night had sunk in despondency, to beat with the renewed
animation of hope. But these hopes became trembling and confused,
when news arrived that the Russians, aware of their error in abandon-
ing tli£ advantageous point of the Beresina they had so recently occupied,
were advancing in full force on both sides of the river. Terror now
overpowered every consideration, either of cupidity or humanity, in the
bosoms of Aimee's protectors. Several drivers entered the wain, and
forcibly dragged from it all those shivering beings who had so long found
it a refuge. Aimee remonstrated, and spoke of Prince Eugene ; but
was told that he was with his imperial father on the other side of the
river, and had other things to do than to look after those who only
encumbered the march of the army. Aimee, who had so often, either
directly or indirectly, experienced the benefits of the Viceroy's protec-
tion, now began to feel herself wholly abandoned. She saw that it was
idle to expect that the princely general, called on as he was by the impe-
rious duties of his military office, could do more than issue orders for her
safety, which, in the increasing confusion of the moment, might be dis-
obeyed with impunity. Brutally forced from the refuge Eugene had
assigned her, Aimee joined that crowd of hapless and despairing strag-
glers, of every age and sex, who thronged behind the forces of Victor,
and, afraid either to remain on the fatal left bank, or attempt the crushed
passage of the bridges, wandered, in shivering and desponding uncer-
tainty, along the borders of the river. At this moment there was a
peculiar and ominous movement in the French rear-guard. The yells of
the approaching enemy were distinctly heard. Then came the heavy
fire of the charging columns, returned in rolling thunder by the French
lines of defence. These lines, however, still formed a barrier between
the fugitives and the advance-guard of the Russians ; and it was not
until the former began evidently to give away, that Aimee deemed all
lost. The Russian cannon became nearer, deeper, and more incessant.
To Aimee it seemed as if she were herself in the midst of the combat.
The balls which passed through the French host whistled by her, and the
shrieks of falling wretches rang in her ears.

It was now that that fearful and fatal rush of passengers to the bridges
took place. Aimee saw crowds of fugitives, abandoned by every feeling
save that of wild personal terror, throng on those treacherous passages.
Then came the wTell-remembered tempest, which — after slowly collecting
its elementary fury in the early part of the day — at length burst from
the indignant heavens, and held, as it seemed, a wild conflict for superio-
rity with the rage of the battle-storm beneath. Each moment, when the
hurricane, in its wild career, swept away the smoke of the contending
armies, Aimee could see the feeble victims which choked the bridges
gasping beneath the feet of the stronger passengers, crushed among
heavy wains and artillery, or — more fearful still — hurled into the waters
by the half-cruel, half-madly despairing struggles of those whose phy-

The Wife of the Polish Patriot. [APRIL,

sical strength enabled them to fling aside all obstacles to their own pas-
sage. \yith the resolution of one who held life forfeited, Aimee resolved
to remain in her present awful situation, rather than venture amid that
despairing throng. She laid the boy down to avoid the balls, which
fell thicker and thicker among the dispersing crowd, and threw herself
almost upon the child. At this moment, the same voice that had before
made Aimee's heart leap within her bosom, again reached her ear : —
" Stand, Lancers, stand ! Let not yon wolf-dogs drive your horses over
these miserable fugitives." Aimee looked up. Another fierce sweep of
the tempest dispersed, as if in haughty scorn, the dense volumes of
smoke which hung, like a black cloud, on the charging columns. God
of mercy! Aimee beheld either the phantom or the living form of her
husband ! He was endeavouring to rally a regiment of his compatriots ;
and called on them, in the voice of military eloquence and high courage,
to stand by their colours. His helm was up — his face warm with exer-
tion ; his eye shone — keen, bright, and stern, as if no gentler thoughts
than those of war had ever animated that bosom. The flush of military
spirit and physical exertion had banished, for the moment, the traces of
wounds, fatigue, and privation. That eye alone was changed, and its
stern, warrior glance almost inspired with fear the gentle and enduring
being who now strove to make her voice heard through the din of the
fight, and the wild uproar of the elements. — " O Ladoinski — my love —
my husband ! — turn — turn ! It is I — it is Aimee — it is your wife who
calls on you !" She called in vain. Roman turned not — gazed not.
The spirit of the soldier seemed alone awake in the Pole. He looked,
at that moment, as if no, tender feeling — no thought of Aimee, occupied
his bosom. For one instant, it almost seemed to the wife as if her hus-
band would not hear. He rallied his broken forces, and called out gal-
lantly, " Lancers ! forward. For God and Poland ! Remember her
who now lies with a Cossack's pike in her breast beneath the snow-
wreaths !" — and he disappeared in the re- thickening smoke.

Day now waned ; and the troops of Victor, after having nearly accom-
plished their unparalleled task of protecting the famous retreat across
the Beresina, at length began to give ground. Aimee saw that she must
now, at all hazards, attempt the perilous passage, or remain behind a
prey to the lawless Russian victor. With trembling and uncertain step,
she endeavoured to gain the largest bridge ; but the banks of the river
were here so crowded that she drew back in consternation ; and, again
throwing the child on the ground, watched beside it, rather with the
instinct of maternal tenderness, than with any fixed hope of ultimately
preserving its life. Suddenly, the largest bridge was seen to give a
fearful swerve — then a portentous bend towards the waters. A noise of
rending, which made the ground tremble, succeeded ; and Aimee
beheld the fatal bridge, and all its living, shrieking burden, descend
with crashing violence into the icy waters of the Beresina, while a stifled
cry of wailing arose from those living descendants to a watery tomb —
so wild, despairing, and fearful, that, for a moment, Aimee deemed the
hour of man's final retribution at hand.

Night closed on the slayer and the slain — on the victor and the van-
quished ; but the thunder of the Russian artillery ceased not its dismal
roll ; while the noise of the French troops, still pouring in restless files
over the remaining bridge, shewed Aimee that the desperate passage
was still continued. She began to fear that her senses were fast yielding

1831.] The Wife of the Polish Patriot. 383

to the horrors that surrounded her ; and she now no longer prayed for
preservation, but for death.

A streak or two of dawn at length began faintly to light up the snow-
covered margin of the river. The Russian forces were now so near
the bridge that, perhaps, but a short half-hour's remaining opportunity
of passage might be afforded her. Aimee once more endeavoured to
gain the bridge ; the falling balls of the foe again arrested her progress.
Still — aware that the hour of irrevocable decision was arrived — she pressed
forward. And now, mingled with the diminished fugitives, her foot
was half on the bridge ; but a sudden cry of warning arose from the
last column of French which had gained' the opposite banks: " Back —
back ! Yield yourselves to the Russians ! Back — back !" Perhaps aware
of the fatal meaning of their compatriots, or easily subjected to every
new terror, the wretched refugees, cut off from their last hope, fell
back with mechanic simultaneousness on the enemy ; while a sound of
grounding arms — voices imploring mercy — stifled moans of victims who
found none — and the close yells of triumph, told Aimee that they were
at length among the Cossacks. She gave a last, a despairing look,
towards the bridge ; it was crackling and blazing in the flames, by
which the French had endeavoured to cut off the pursuit of their enemy.
In the unutterable hurly-burly which followed, Aimee, still pressing the
child to her bosom, endeavoured to extricate herself from the shrieking
victims and the ruthless conqueror ; and, rushing precipitately along
the borders of the river, sought a vain refuge in flight. The Cossacks,
instead of pressing on their enemy, dispersed in every direction, more
anxious to obtain solid booty than empty honour. Aimee, scarcely
knowing what she sought — what she hoped for — continued, with some
other hapless fugitives, her panting and useless flight along the margin
of the Beresina. They were naturally pursued by the Scythian victor.
Aimee, with desperate resolution, tied the child to her, and made towards
the waters. They were deep ; — no matter. The stoutest might scarce
hope to gain the opposite bank ; — she recked not. Anything was better
than becoming the prey of the victor — anything preferable to life and
separation from her child. She had nearly gained the fatal stream.
Two other lives would that morning have been added to its fearful host
of victims ; but, overpowered by her own exertions and the weight of
her precious burden, Aimee sank to the earth. Her person was rudely
seized. Words, which seemed more appallingly barbarous from their
utterance in a foreign tongue, sounded in her ears. She shrieked with
a wild agony of terror to which she had hitherto been comparatively a
stranger. Perhaps her cries reached the chief of a small body of French
cavalry, which had been the last in quitting the dangerous post of pro-
tecting the retreat, and were now plunging their horses into the Beresina,
apparently preferring the danger of a swimming passage to the alterna-
tive of surrender and captivity. " What, ho, comrades !'' exclaimed the
voice of their chief, as wheeling his charger, he forced it, with returning
step, up the left bank of the river ; — " what, ho ! charge these scattered
plunderers ! To the rescue ! They are women that cry to us ; — our
horses are strong enough to bear such light burdens. — Back, back, law-
less bandits ! — To the river, brave comrades — to the river !" Like one
in a dream, Aimee heard the parting hoofs of the dispersed Cossack-
chargers — found herself placed on a horse before that gallant captain —
and discovered, by a heavy plunge in the water, that she was about to

384 The Wife of the Polish Patriot. [APRIL,

make that fearful passage of the Bcresina from which she had all night
recoiled with horror. Aimee's cloak had half fallen from her shoulders.
Her own countenance, and the face of the boy who was bound to her
bosom, were revealed to her brave deliverer. She was deprived of
speech — of motion. Shots rattled around her like hail-stones, and fell
with ceaseless pattering into the waters; while, from time to time, a
heavier plash announced the sinking of some hapless being, the victim
either of the enemy's fire, or of his own steed's exhaustion. The noble
but half-worn-down charger of Aimee's protector sometimes gallantly
battled with the current ; sometimes so nearly sank beneath his burden,
that the waters broke over his saddle-bow, and almost enveloped the
persons of the mother and her boy. But Aimee — powerless, motionless
— scarcely alive save to one absorbing emotion — felt that that swimming
steed supported with its failing strength the whole family of Ladoinski ;
she felt that she was pressed to the bosom of her husband, while the
child of so much care and anxiety reclined against her own. A con-
sciousness of more straining exertion on the part of the animal that bore
her, at length convinced Aimee that he was pushing his way up the
long-desired right bank of the Beresina ! The sound of plashing died
away; and she felt that they were quitting its fatal margin for ever.

It was about seven years after this period that the narrator, travelling
in one of the smaller principalities of Germany, obtained an introduction
to Eugene de Beauharnois, the son-in-law of the mighty Emperor of the
West, and the former viceregal possessor of the fair provinces of north-
ern Italy. The prince was then residing in a private situation, but
honoured with the respect and consideration of all parties. At his resi-
dence I met the Pole, his devoted wife, and their precociously intelli-
gent son. From their own lips I received the particulars here related.
They were given with glowing gratitude of expression, in the presence
of the ex- Viceroy himself, through whose farther intervention Ladoinski
and Aimee reached the Prussian frontier in safety. I have deemed it an
act of justice to the fallen potentate to relate a circumstance, so honour-
able to his character, with as little departure from the dryness of truth
as possible. Perhaps it is a fact not unworthy of record, that the drivers
with the wain which should have conveyed Aimee across the Beresina,
perished in that fatal crash of the larger bridge which precipitated such
numbers into an icy grave. The manner in which Roman (left for dead
on the road to Smolensk) was resuscitated by a party of compatriots,
and the mode by which he contrived to join Victor's division, would of
themselves make a much better romance than the narrative just related.
It is a singular fact, however, that Ladoinski was in Smolensk before the
arrival of Aimee, and only consented to leave it when informed that her
murdered body, with the corpse of his little son, was stretched, cold and
stiff, on the fatal high-road from Moscow. — Roman followed the standard
of his wife's protector, when Eugene, in his viceroyal dominions, made
head against the Austrians, whom Ladoinski regarded as the joint-
enemies with Russia of Polish independence ; and when Beauharnois'
successless campaign drove that prince into obscurity, Roman retired
with him to the same privacy, and, peacefully occupied in the bosom
of his family, determined only to resume his lance when it could im-
mediately, and with rational prospect of success, serve the cause of his
country.

1831.] [ 385 ]

CONFESSIONS OF A COWARD.

" A coward I a most devout coward ! religious in it !"

Twelfth JVigftt.

ANYTHING in reason will I adventure for a lady's love — circumnavi-
gate the terraqueous globe with Mr. Buckingham — sail with Captain
Parry to the North Pole — fast with Mr. Perceval — pass an hour in an
oven with M. Chabert — suffer myself to be rubbed by Mr. St. John
Long — or read Moore's Life of Byron from cover to cover — but stand
an adversary's fire at Battersea Fields, or Chalk Farm — that I will not
do ! No ! — the power of woman I own, but her omnipotence I deny ;
or, as I once poetically expressed it —

Beauty's bright heaven has many a starry eye,
Shines many a radiant orb in Beauty's sky ;
But well I ween there glitters not the dame
Whose glance could fire me with a warrior's flame ;
Not Loveliness herself, with all her charms,
Could nerve my spirit to a deed of arms.

Yes, truly ! such are my sentiments ; and you see they can be couched
in rhyme, as well as the most valorous and knightly. Were Venus to
be the guerdon of the achievement, I would not exchange a shot with
any lord or gentleman in the king's dominions. I will do anything for
Beatrice but challenge Claudio. Whether I shall ever be " crowned,"
or not, is uncertain ; but certes it will never be for " deserts in arms ;"
and as to the " bubble reputation," if ever I seek it, rely on it, it will
be somewhere else than " in the cannon's mouth" — ay, or the pistol's
mouth either. A pistol differs from a cannon only as a young lion dif-
fers from an old one ; and I would just as soon be devoured by the king
of the forest himself, as by a younger branch of the royal family. No
pistol for me ! I hold it, with honest David in the play, to be a <( bloody-
minded animal j" and the much-abused nobleman, who several hundred
years ago remarked,

" that it was great pity — so it was —

That villanous saltpetre should be digged
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed
So cowardly" —

took a view of military affairs in which I concur with all my heart, soul,
and strength.

It may be asked, how I dare to make an avowal so certain to bring
down upon my head the sentence of outlawry from every fashionable
circle. " Do I not know," it will be said, " that to the lovely and the
brave the character I give of myself is equally detestable ? — that I had
better be known in polite society as a traitor or a parricide, than as a
craven in the field, much less a person who would prefer the most inglo-
rious compromise imaginable to a mortal arbitrement at twelve paces ?''
A reasonable question, gentle reader ! But, if you wait to the end of
these Confessions, you will find an answer ; you will see that, commu-
nicative as I am on other points, with respect to my " local habitation

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 64. 3D

386 Confessions of a Coward. [APRIL,

and my name/' I am as mysterious as the Man in the Iron Mask, or one
of Mrs. Radcliffe's heroes. This, however, I assure you — I am not the
First Lord of the Admiralty.

In perfect confidence, then, I proceed to inform you, that courage is
to me the most inexplicable phenomenon in the constitution of man. I
was born, without doubt, under a pusillanimous planet ; or rather under
one of those flying stars, which scamper so fast across the ethereal fields,
that there is no way to account for their immediate hurry, but on the
hypothesis that there is a comet at their heels. No remark is more
common than that Fact is continually outdoing Fiction. The wildest
freaks of imagination never bodied forth a Cromwell or a Buonaparte.
Nature, as she moulded these giant characters, smiled at the dwarfish
creations of romance and poetry, and rebuked the presumption of the
Homers, the Dantes, and the Shakspeares. Now it is with cowardice
precisely as it is with heroism. Both are natural gifts ; and nature, when
she is disposed, can be as munificent of the former as of the latter. In
the present instance, she has proved it. I consider myself as created
for the special purpose of eclipsing the Ague-cheeks, the Acres, the
FalstafFs, and the Bobadils, with every example of recreant knighthood
in the chronicles of fiction. Not one of these poetical poltroons appears
to me to have possessed the true genius, or, if I may use the expres-
sion, the spirit of cowardice. Some actually go into the field; one or
two proceed so far as to draw their swords and cock their pistols ; and
all seem to be susceptible of at least a momentary thrill of valour ; other-
wise, they could not so much as listen to the horrible propositions of
their obliging friends, Sir Toby Belch, Sir Lucius O'Trigger, and other
personages of the same sanguinary complexion. In short, dastardly as
they are in action., they are martial enough in contemplation. They are
valiant until the signal is given — adamant while the enemy is out
of view. As to Sir John Falstaff, I would almost venture to place
him amongst the heroes of the English drama. With what propriety he
can be called coward, after his terrible encounter with the Douglas, I
do not understand. Of this I am sure — he had very different ideas from
mine on warlike subjects, or he would never have had a fellow with the
ominous name of Pistol in attendance on his person. I should as soon
have had the devil for my Ancient, as an angel with so sinister a cogno-
men. My cowardice — I say it without vanity — is no vulgar infirmity :
indeed it is not so much an infirmity as a principle of my constitution.
It is, in fact, the essence of my being. I can never read a vivid descrip-
tion of an engagement, but I feel an itching of my heels, and an almost
uncontrollable inclination to run away. Such have been my sensations
always on coming to the battle-scene in Marmion ; and I experienced
the like emotions, about three years ago, at the Louvre, on casting my
eyes on a picture of Rosa, where nothing is wanting but the din of con-
flict to make you fancy yourself in the middle of the fray. I actually
retreated before Salvator's pencil half the length of the gallery, and well
nigh overturned the easel of a lady who was copying a landscape of Ver-
net. She attributed the shock her apparatus received to accident;
could she have divined the secret of the matter, what an entertaining
story she would have had of the " Monsieur Anglois qui s'etoit mis en
fuitc, a la vue settlement d'un tableau de bataille !"

So far am I from being capable of taking part in an action, or even a
skirmish, that it requires the greatest effort of my imagination to con-

1831.] Confessions of a Coward. 387

ceive how any one, not armed with invulnerability, can bring himself to
face an enemy. The Latin poet throwing away his shield to make his
escape the faster — the Athenian orator caught by a bramble in his
retreat, and roaring for quarter as lustily as ever he shouted in the
tribune — these things I can figure to myself; — but how either the one or
the other was ever induced to take the field at all — this is what surpasses
my powers of conception. They were not cravens, it is obvious, in the
plenitude of that term's acceptation ; matchless as they were in song and
eloquence, the true genius of cowardice they wanted. In this, at least,
I am immeasurably above them. Had nature cast them in my mould,
Philippi and Cheronaea had never seen their backs — because they would
never have seen their faces. " Parma non bene relictd !" — " Non bene !"
say you, my bonny bard ? Truly, I take it to have been the best and
wisest action of your life ; and, if I must deal plainly with you, the
most insane was that which afforded Anthony's grenadiers a chance of
spitting your little carcase like a lark upon their pikes or broadswords,
But fugitive as you were, I perceive you had a scintilla of heroism in
your composition. You were not of my mettle.

There is a sect of soi-disant philosophers who lament the by-gone days
of chivalry, and are ever sighing for tilt-yards and tournaments — the
good old time (they call it) when every gentleman went armed from heel
to point ; and ladies were wooed by the shivering of lances ; and there
was no way of proving manhood but by the sword ; and no evidence of
birth was admitted, but your gentle blood itself, streaming from the
gash of spear or battle-axe. Heaven shield us ! These were fine times,
truly ! But pray, Mr. Burke, what should 7 have done in these fine
times ? What I should not have done is certain. I should not have
complied with their barbarous usages, let the consequences have been what
they might ' While there remained a mouse-hole in the land, I should
never have been seen in the lists. It is quite enough to have read of
such doings. That was an enviable day at Ashby-de-la-Zouche, as
described in ' ' Ivanhoe •" and critics say it is described to the life. John
Dryden, too, is tolerably explicit, in his " Palamon and Arcite," on the
subject of a passage of arms : —

" Two troops in fair array one moment shewed—-
The next, a field with fallen bodies strewed;
Not half the number in their seats are found,
But men and steeds lie grovelling on the ground.
The points of spears are stuck within the shield —
The steeds, without their riders, scour the field ;
The knights, unhorsed, on foot renew the fight —
The glittering falchions cast a gleaming light ;
One rolls along a football to his foes —
One with a broken truncheon deals his blows."

" A football to his foes !" Alas for the olden time ! Well-a-day for
the days of chivalry ! Golden days ! will ye never return? " A foot-
ball to his foes !"

These Confessions would be imperfect if I omitted the influence
which my extraordinary cowardice has produced upon my religion, my
politics, my philosophy, and my manners.

First, as to my religion, I am decidedly a Quaker. I have not, how-
ever, openly conformed to that sect, because it has receded lamentably
from the primitive purity of its doctrines and practice. Arms are now

3 D 2

Confessions of a Coward. \_ APRIL,

resorted to in self-defence. Duelling, indeed, is still interdicted ; but
if you break into the Quaker's house after nightfal, he will resist you
with sword and pistol ! Now arms, under all circumstances, are my
anathema — the pistol is an abomination, even while it saves my life; so
that I defer assuming the broad-brim until the spirit of Fox reanimates
his followers, and he that is smitten upon one cheek shall be ready to
turn the other also. In the meantime, my creed is as follows : — I believe
discretion to be the better part of valour. I believe in the combustible,
explosive, and life-destroying properties of gunpowder. I believe in
the mortal qualities of cold steel, whether in sword, lance, bayonet, or
dagger. I believe the only post of safety in battle is to be out of the
reach of sabre and range of shot. I believe life to be the first consider-
ation, and honour the second ; and I hold the contrary to be a false
heresy. I believe the heels to be the most worthy part of the human
body, inasmuch as they minister quickest to self-preservation, and, by
their timely use, seldom fail to put an end to strife. I believe the most
inglorious peace better than the most glorious war. I believe the
strength of a country to consist in its live population ; and am firmly
persuaded that one man walking in the streets of London is worth one
thousand lying in the bed of honour. These are the chief articles of my
belief. As to my hopes hereafter, I trust that when I have gone to my
long home, the innocence of my life will be of no disservice to me. With
no deed of blood on my conscience — having made no children orphans,
or wives widows — may I not hope to raise my crest as high as the
proudest heroes ? I trust, however, I shall be lodged in the opposite
quarter of the skies — the diameter of the earth's orbit at least between
us. Neither in time nor eternity, should I be easy in the neighbour-
hood of Guy Earl of Warwick, the Chevalier Bayard, Godfrey of Bou-
logne, John of Gaunt, or even the Duke of Wellington. The spirits of
warriors will probably be always warlike. The martial ghosts will be
excellent good company for each other ; and we civil shades would pre-
fer a separate establishment.

Such is the religion of my cowardice. With but little addition, it
contains my politics also. I am decidedly opposed to standing armies.
In foreign policy, I am for the principle of non-intervention in all its
rigour ; and no crime, I am of opinion, should be punished with such
unflinching severity as a breach of the peace. I am moreover for reform
of every kind, because, when any demand is made, the quietest way is to
concede it at once, and avoid the possible event of the petitioner resort-
ing to violence to obtain his object.

My philosophy comes next on the tapis. Cowardice has made me a
political economist. Finding the writers on that science unanimous in
contending that peace is the true interest of nations, it is little surprising
that I have become enamoured of a theory so perfectly in unison with
my feelings. Peace, peace, peace ! was not more the heart's desire of
Lord Clarendon, than it is mine. Upon this subject, I am fond of quoting
Milton — " Peace hath its victories as well as war ;" and again —

" But if there be in glory aught of good,
It may by means far different be attained,
Without ambition, war, or violence,
By deeds of peace"

Milton, I may as well mention, en passant, is my favourite English
poet — not on account of his sublimity, but because of the pacific spirit

1831.] Confessions of a Coward. 389

that breathes through all his compositions, and was indeed diffused over
his life. We never hear of him at Marston Moor or Worcester; but we
find him, during the tumult of the civil war, sequestered in one of the
quietest nooks of London, and inscribing his door with the beautiful and
pathetic sonnet, beginning —

ee Captain, or colonel, or knight in arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize,
If deed of honour did thee ever please,

Guard them, and him within protect from harms."

I particularly admire this sonnet. There is a tone of supplication in it
so much in unison with the sentiments I entertain towards all military
officers, from the field-marshal down to the corporal. Milton had the
genius of cowardice as well as of poesy. How superior to Dante ! The
Florentine would have been buckling on his armour, while the English-
man was watering his threshold with melodious tears, and singing for
quarter in strains that would have made Mars himself merciful.

I have now to disclose the effects of my unrivalled cowardice upon
my manners and conversation. So constitutioual and instinctive is my
dread of arms, deeds of arms, and men-at-arms j and so deeply con-
vinced am I that there is no apology so abject that I would not infinitely
rather make than stand to be fired at, that nothing can exceed the pains
I am at to be on amicable terms with all the world. I am all smiles,
courtesies, and civilities. It is scarcely possible for mortal man to pick
a quarrel with me. I apologize, in fact, before I offend ; sometimes
even when (if any feelings have been hurt) I myself am the injured
party. For example, if a person tread on my toe in the street, I bow
and ask his pardon, while, at the same time, I am writhing from the
effects of the pressure on my corn.

It may be supposed that, like ordinary cowards, I am a brag-
gadocio, and talk big, in order to produce on the company a false
impression of my character ; but I am too sagacious to resort to an
artifice which has been so often exposed, and is so easily seen
through. On the contrary, I try to imitate the bearing and discourse of
the truly valiant, which I have generally observed to be as opposite
as possible to that of Captain Bobadil. At the same time, there are
certain peculiarities in my conversation, from which I fear some person
of more than common penetration — I particularly dread the ladies —
will some time or another divine the truth. I am too fond of expa-
tiating on moral intrepidity and intellectual courage ; and more than
once I have endangered myself by maintaining that there is nothing
derogatory to a man of honour in making an apology, without laying
sufficient stress upon the clause — provided he has been in the wrong. But
I never was in such peril of exposure as a few days ago, at the house of
an intimate friend. " L. misunderstood," said a lady, addressing her-
self to me, " an observation you made here the other evening/'
Now, misunderstood is a verb I abhor in every mood and tense. It jar-
red on my ear like the cocking of a pistol ; and, without pausing to ask
what expression of mine had been so unlucky as to have been miscon-
strued, I exclaimed, " I will make any explanation he thinks necessary."
Fortunately, the nature of the observation in question prevented the
ridicule of this speech from being noticed. " You will not have much
trouble, I imagine/' said the lady ; " it was merely a mistake of one

Confessions of a Coward. £ APRIL,

word for another; you were talking of La/lite, and L. thought you
were talking of La Fayette." How lightly sat my bosom's lord upon
his throne after this edaircissement ! So overjoyed was I at my deli-
verance from a " misunderstanding/' that I thought but little of the
hair's-breadth escape of my reputation ; faithful in this to the fifth article
of my creed, which, you will remember, runs thus — " I believe life to
be the first consideration, and honour the second ; and I hold the con-
trary to be a false heresy/'

I have little to add, but that I lead the life of a hare, in continual
trepidation, regarding all mankind (ladies alone excepted) as my natural
enemies, and in daily expectation of being started, hunted, and slain —
no — slain is going rather too far — at least I shall never be accessory to
my own murder. Often I wish myself transported to some solitary isle
in the Pacific Ocean ; or ejaculate with Byron,—

" Oh ! that the desert were my dwelling-place,
With owe fair spirit for my minister 1"

I, too, cast a longing eye upon the olden time ; but it is on the pastoral
ages, when the only weapon was the shepherd's crook, the code of
honour was not, and in all Arcady there was neither a challenger nor a
cartridge.

LEARNING AND LOVE.

SAID Nature one day, " For the peace of mankind,
Let Woman and Man have their kingdoms apart :

To Man I assign the cold regions of mind —
To Woman, the sunny domains of the heart."

The partition was fair, and the boundaries plain,

Between Learning and Love — between beauty and books ;

Contented was Man, in his black-letter reign,
And he left laughing Woman her love-darting looks.

But restless Zitella must kindle a feud,

And stir up a war of the studies and bowers;
Too proud for the limits wise Nature deemed good,

From her own rightful empire she burst upon ours.

We thought ourselves safe in our Latin and Greek,

But Plato has yielded, and Tully is taken ;
What we can but read, dread Zitella can speak —

Her books of the boudoir are Berkely and Bacon.

Sweet pedant, beware ! all the world is arrayed
To check your ambition, your schemes to oppose ;

The Scholar, if routed, will soon have the aid
Of a legion of dames — to a woman, your foes.

The kingdom of hearts is enough for your share ;

Oh ! unharness your owl, and depend on your dove :
There is Learning enough in this world — and to spare —

But, ah ! my Zitella ! there's too little Love ! M. W. S.

1831.] [ 391 ]

THE PERPLEXITIES OF A BOOK-WORM.

*

BOOK-READING, as it may be termed, is in some people a mere vicious
habit ; just like sitting in a dream over the fire for hours together, or
moping through the house of a morning, when one ought to be dress-
ing, and hurrying out. I do not know a worse propensity — except
opium-eating. It weakens and absorbs the whole intellectual sys-
tem : it brings a man to that sort of crisis, that his whole life becomes
an animal fidget in search of something which he can neither describe
nor discover: he is restless and craving; ever searching and never
satisfied : hunting for new pleasures in the track of exhausted enjoy-
ments, and returning fatigued and discontented. The appetite of a mere
book-reader resembles the dismal sensuality of the constrictor, who feeds
and sleeps to the end of the chapter. He ranges over every science with
that kind of imperfect perception one has of forms and changes in a
vision : he forgets, and confuses, and distorts, and confounds, and mis-
applies, and at last falls asleep again to try and recover the floating
images of the past. Such a man wants health, air, and bodily exercise :
he requires a vigorous regimen, a bracing mountain life, and should not
be permitted to see even the back of a book for a twelvemonth. When
his training is over, you may judge of the state of his disorder, as you do
of a man in hydrophobia, when he sees a cup of water, by placing sud-
denly before him an uncut volume of a new work. If, like Dominie
Sampson, he drops his head amongst the leaves, you had better leave
him there — he is incurable.

I will never read a book as long as I live. I have been dipped, chin-
deep, in the brine of books, and I am literally salted all over. I do
believe that there is not a book of any note, published within the last
twenty years, that I have not seen and opened : sometimes I went no far-
ther than the title-page: in other cases I ventured into the preface ; but not
unfrequently I opened the volume at an unlucky page, read two or three
lines, quarrelled with an opinion, or a word, or the punctuation, or the
printer, and closed the condemned work for ever. Yet I always gleaned
enough to talk of the book flippantly, and I passed, of course, as a man
deeply read ; while I was all the time in a secret fever lest my real
ignorance should be exposed. But my history is a series of impressions,
which shall be told as they arose.

I was born in Staffordshire, not a mile from that humble range of
houses on the road-side, familiarly known by the name of Clock-row.
Who has not stood on a dark night on the coach-road that winds through
that district of furnaces, and looked across the low grounds with their
thousand illuminations, resembling fields of burning marl ? Who that
has witnessed the awful appearances presented to him in a sight so strange,
has turned away from the contemplation, without feeling a new sensation
thrill through his frame ? I have stood for hours at midnight gazing
upon that scene : it has transfixed me into marble at times, and deprived
me even of the power of ruminating upon its effect. When the wind
rushes over the fires, and you see the artificial doors of the potteries
choked up with bursting flames, and the universal blaze undulate and
heave like a sea of tossing brands close at your feet, and as far as your
eye can penetrate ; and when you hear the distant cracking and hissing,
and the suffocating sound of fire forcing its way through narrow or acci-
dental fissures, as if a thousand human beings were groaning upon beds

392 The Perplexities of a Book-Worm. [APRIL,

of burning faggots ; and when a dead calm succeeds the storm, and the
vast plain before you burns stilly and noiselessly, like an outspread lake
of liquid gold without a ripple on its surface, you tremble at the terrific
phantasies the whole conjures up, and cannot resist the temptation to
people the scene with beings and delusions of your own imagination.
Such, at least, was the case with me. In my earliest youth I visited the
place often at night, and felt a nameless delight in sitting shivering upon
a cold stone, looking, almost without thought or speculation, upon the
lighted heath before me, until the grey morning broke over the illumi-
nation, and outshone it. I mention the circumstance, to account in some
measure for the solitary, dreamy mood that hung over my after-life, like
an incubus : I think it was originated and nourished in these seasons of
lifeless loneliness : I feel that they have had their influence in directing
my pursuits, in clouding my vivacity, in checking, perhaps controlling,
my taste, and in embittering, by an immedicable listlessness, all the
employments of my existence ; they cast their deep shadows before, and
tinged with their own dark hue all that sprung up in the future, as the
tints of certain bulbous plants are determined by the colours that are
artificially wrought upon the seed.

Events and characters are frequently created by incidents of a com-
paratively trifling, and even ridiculous nature. If I drew my inspiration
from the potteries, so did I my dullness —

" My bane and antidote are both before me."

Solitariness engendered a love for those idle musings that are solaced,
and perhaps encouraged, in books. At the time when I was best adapted
to society, I became most unfit for its gaieties : the spring, the elasticity
of my natural temper, was crushed in its first play ; it had not oppor-
tunity to expand into action ; and a dull, not despairing, despondency —
a heavy recklessness, a stupid indifference — as if the whole world was
a floating chimera about me, and that I stood alone with the elements of
my pleasures locked up in my own bosom, succeeded. It was a torpor
of the intellect ; it had no type in any thing living that I had ever met,
and therefore experienced no comfort, no sympathy in common associa-
tion : it was the morbidity of the mind that went on corrupting and cor-
rupting beyond the hope of cure. I could not apply the cautery, I had
not nerve to amputate, but suffered the slug to work into, and eat the
very principle of volition. Recede from that which I had permitted to
master me, I could not ; it grew hourly upon me. I was left an orphan
in my infancy — my remaining relatives were at a distance ; I did not
know them, I did not desire to know them ; my hereditary competence
preserved me from the necessity of appealing to their protection, and my
misanthropy repulsed me from their communion. In this state of mind
and circumstances, intercourse was hermetically closed upon me ; and
that coldness in others which was caused by my own reserve and gloom,
I attributed not to re-action, but the primal disagreement of our natures,
and so precipitated, by unjust feelings and false reasoning, my distaste
for fellowship. In my solitude I flew to the conversation of books, for
even I, secluded as I was, felt the necessity of a reciprocity of some kind
or another. Books were, indeed, to me the apostles of mankind : they
spoke the language of remote times, arid men whom I had never seen,
and of whom I could fancy whatever suited my whim ; men with whose
spirits I could become intimate, without the vulgar drawback of per-

1 83 1 . J The Perplexities of a Book- Worm. 393

sonal tediousness, courtesies, formalities, or peculiarities. I could take the
book, and do \vith it as I pleased ; I could refute it, or imbibe its instruc-
tion, or arraign it, or worship it, or laugh with it, in the certainty that it
would not start upon me with an arrogant presumption, or a triumphant
chuckle, or an apothegm to destroy my illusion : in the certainty that in
its pride, or its mortification, it would not do one single thing to inter-
rupt my bent, or throw me back into a hatred of my fellows. In my
lonely chamber I sat with my books — housed night and day with my
speechless companions ; nor did they always fill me with melancholy,
they frequently excited me to hilarity and joyousness. I have cracked a
bottle with old Burton, and caroused and lampooned with Lloyd and
Churchill. But then my mirth was of an ascetic kind, and was changed
at the least intrusion, or interruption, into vexation and spleen. I knew
not what it was to share the happiness of others, or to impart my own.
I could not talk of books, for they were my Penates, and I would not
defile their sacred office by intermixing them with every-day life. My
dreams were all my own — unshared and incommunicable. Did sorrow,
or annoyance assail me from without, I rushed into my chamber, locked
myself up with my confederates, my confidantes, brightened up my fire,
roused myself to that pitch of energy a lonely man exerts when he sits
down on a winter night to study a problem in Euclid ; and, finally for-
getting the ills that awaited or thwarted me abroad, endeavoured to feel
myself at home, and to relish that silent selfish enjoyment which humanity
cannot enlarge by a single ray of hope.

My passion, therefore, for books, increased with the necessity I created
for perusing them. I was perpetually reading, and demanding fresh
supplies. But my course of study was naturally wandering, imperfect,
and, in a measure, fruitless. Yet from the chaos I gathered some know-
ledge, dangerous, perhaps, because incomplete, but far beyond the
general information gleaned by those who mix largely in the world. My
early studies were books of a sombre nature ; old tracts, rhetorical
essays on theology, cynical histories, and elaborate works on the sciences.
From these I imbibed the groundwork of my system of thinking — a few
cramped and sententious first principles. Of course every human ques-
tion was tried by my new standard ; my scholastic, or rather monastic,
divinity was the test of every religion under heaven ; and my dogmas in
composition sat as judges upon every treatise that came before me. This
was the first error of my system, but it was an extensive and ruinous one.
It has deprived me of the advantages of many a valuable book, which
stood condemned in its first page by my theory of judgment; it has led
me into occasional admiration of absurd and pernicious works, and pre-
judiced me altogether against whole classes of productions, good and
useful in their kind.

But wandering and unsettled as it was, my reading was various and
diversified. I slowly progressed through the most popular works that
treat of the age of chivalry, until at length I almost became a knight-
errant myself, and could have done every thing but wield a lance, and
write madrigals. I ranged through every age of the drama, from its
obscene mysteries in the olden time, to its mysterious obscenities in our
own days : I was drunk with the love of Shakspeare, and Marlowe, and
Ford, and Massinger ; they inspired me to the worst excesses of which
my solitude was capable : Prince Harry and I have exchanged a cup of
sack, and I have sent Falstaff to bed in a barrel of ale, and taken on

M.M. New Series.— -VOL. XI. No. 64. 3 E

'394 The Perplexities of a Book-Wwm.

myself the command of his valiant troops. Often and often have I
pictured to myself at the farther end of my study, before an old curtain
of damask, the kneeling queen and the Jesuitical Wolsey — I have often
gasped over a catastrophe, watched it with intense pain to the close, and
worked myself into a fever in my zeal to rectify the author, or, as it
might be, rescue the innocent of his play. But who looked on at my
folly ? None — none. I was utterly deserted by men ; they knew me
not, and I did not choose to know them.

Once, in deference to the popular talk, if I may so term it, of books, I
read Rabelais. His wit was obscure or local — he did not suit my feelings ;
there was a labour or a solemnity in his manner that I could not relish,
and I cast away his book mortified and disappointed. Months passed,
and I again met a passage in a favourite work, which seduced me into
another perusal. Again I read him, and was again disappointed. Pan-
tagruel was a monster whom I could neither understand nor enjoy ; the
lean and lascivious Panurge fatigued and disgusted me, and the Holy
Bottle sickened me with its punning and its grossness. It is true, I read
the Frenchman's writings with patience — indeed with industry ; but that
was because they had been panegyrized on all hands, and I did not like
to omit forming an opinion for myself agreeably to my own rules ; yet I
confess that his constant reiterations, amplifications, and stilted drollery
puzzled me on my own ground ; I was furnished with no standard by
which I could try him — he evaded me at every turn ; so I heartily dis-
liked him, without being able to tell why. In short, Rabelais was the
only author that I ever quarrelled with without assigning a defined, how-
ever insufficient cause.

But the infirmity of my temper, exaggerated by severities, was not at
a loss to find pretexts for ill humour with other authors. I threw Shen-
stone into the fire because he described a mode of life which I know, and
he knew, to be unreal ; and I wished in my heart that I could recal the
man from his grave, and place himself beside a flock of sheep on a moun-
tain's side in a shower of rain. I detested Shenstone from first to last,
because the delusion he attempted to practice on me was raised upon a
presumption that I was a stranger to the abstract delights of nature,
which he tortured into whatever fantastic forms he pleased. I could
submit to a species of delusion that blinds out care, and throws a veil
over misfortunes which, if we choose, we may diminish, or forget, or put
in masquerade ; but I could not submit to be mocked in the bosom of
the green fields, where the sparkling waters, and the uninitiated dyes of
the flowers, are beaming a contradiction in my face. I quarrelled, too,
with the whole French drama, that permits false sentiment to usurp the
place of real feeling, and substitutes measured rhymes for the language
of passion. Corneille, on this account, was my abhorrence, and even
Voltaire stood neglected on my shelves. The Germans, even the best of
them, were amongst my rejected books ; and from Goethe to Frederic
Laun, I read to satiety — delighted at the outset with the romance of
affected feeling, but disgusted at last with its detailed development and
sickly impertinence. Yet there was one of the Germans who made a
first impression on my mind I could never subsequently obliterate — that
was Schiller. I acknowledged he was guilty of all the faults of his
school ; that he had been trained up, as it were, in mawkish ribaldry
and girlish weakness, that his writings creamed over with the very
effervescence of bad taste ; but I could not choose but think that all
these points, which in others projected prominently and offensively in

1831 .] The Perplexities of a Book- Worm. 395

every page, were in him softened away into sweetness, and tenderness,
and heroism. I shall never forget my sensations when I first read " The
Robbers.'' It was a winter's night, and I sat as usual in my solitude.
My temper had been crossed by some petty incident during the day, and
I had shut myself in to quarrel with the first book I put my hand on —
that book was "The Robbers." As I proceeded a few pages, the interest of
the drama enchained my attention — the pathetic circumstances of the
principal characters — the sympathy you are made, right or wrong, to feel
for Charles Moor — his splendid achievements, his generosity, his
unhappy fate, his struggling virtue, breaking out through guilt and
ill-doing, his final retribution, horrible and calamitous, just yet lament-
able— all, crowding upon me in every scene, and thickening and growing
with a terrible reality about me, so completely absorbed me, that when I
laid down the book, I fancied — it was a weakness, but it proved how
powerful the writing was — I fancied I beheld the gallant ranger of
Bohemia, the desperate outlaw — Moor, Charles Moor — and the name
yet thrills through my veins — I fancied I beheld him seated upon a chair
before me, gazing coldly and sternly into rny face ! I had courage for a
moment to look upon his lineaments, and they were there, for a moment,
wan, and manly, and noble, as Schiller has described them ; but in the
next moment the mist cleared from my eyes, and the vision wreathed
away into darkness ! This is a fact ; but it occurred to a solitary man,
nervous, perhaps, in his solitude, and more susceptible than other men
to the influences of imagination.

I had ever mingled but little in the world, and grew into manhood,
comparatively ignorant of its customs, and entirely untouched by its
seductions : and I had now passed over the time when I might have
been ductile enough to learn and adapt. It was too late to move out
of my retirement and begin life : my habits were formed — my disposi-
tion, such as it was, was based upon settled phlegm and confirmed
nausea : I could not turn back upon the past and say, " Rise not upon
my memory/' — nor to the future, " Be, as if the past had never been."
I felt the disease at my heart — it made the whole world a vacuum to
me — and I would have shaken it from me, if I could — but that was not
within my bidding. That which I had allowed to control me, I could
not now control : it was beyond the reach of my powers, and I did not
covet it. I was like one labouring under a spell, which he felt — of
which he was thoroughly conscious — but which wielded him at plea-
sure, as a giant would toy with an infant. I often revisited the scene
of my first impressions ; and there it was as vivid and spirit-subduing
as ever ; and then I would fly from it to my chamber — but I was com-
panionless ; and my books .came round me like spectres and shadows,
and I grappled with them, and they swung round me, like the booming
of the dark waters round a ship that had lost its chart, night after
night.

I had read much and constantly, and fatigue and tedium grew upon
over-feeding. Yet my appetite was not diminished, it was my palate
that demanded stimulants. I looked for variety in every form in which
it could be sought. I had already collated and arranged all my books :
I had thrown them into every possible classification; chronologically,
and according to their species and their genus ; I had exhausted every
description of solid reading I could obtain, and was glad to find an
excuse for seeking refuge amongst the lighter and less profitable authors.
In theology, at last, I discovered the absence of obesity ; and even in

3 E 2

396 The Perplexities of a Book- Worm.

controversy, that had hitherto excited me with its sarcasms, its vindic-
tiveness, and its subtleties, I no longer felt a charm. I discovered
failings and crimes equally balanced on all sides, and gave an equal
share of opprobrium to Fox's Martyrs and Butler's Saints ; I never
could find the happy mean where peace and truth sat guiding, and
informing, and consoling mankind. Even Massillon was a sectarian,
and Fenelon a visionary, and the amiable Newton a victim to his own
fallacies. History had already driven me into despair with its compilers.
They had all blasphemed facts. I could not find a feasible History of
St. Bartholomew's Massacre, or the Murders of Glencoe, or the Neapo-
litan Conspiracy — it was all darkness, and contradiction, and personal
ire, and endless contention. History, as well as doctrine, was the work
of sectaries, and its records were equally stained with the impiety of
interested falsehood. I had read too much to be contented — too little
to be convinced. In science, the maze was like the Cretan labyrinth ;
age after age had furnished fresh demonstrations, and discoveries, and
improvements ; and it would have taken a whole life to trace the pro-
gress, before you could come at its rudiment. I was lost in the war-
fare and strife, and stunned in the immitigable animosities of men who
betrayed that narrowness of vision which they were labouring to correct
in others. The knowledge of languages was a study to which I had
devoted much time, and serious thought, and ardent research. It had
beguiled me of many wearisome seasons, when, excluded from society,
I sat down to my task of isolated enjoyment ; every fresh reception of
sounds that conveyed new images, and novel modes of expression, was
a joy and a triumph ; I exulted in my lonely task — it was a never-end-
ing source of gratification — a fountain, whose waters were eternal. But
in the midst of these banquets and anticipations, I discovered that Sir
William Jones, the greatest linguist perhaps in the world, had mas-
tered the following languages : — English, Latin, French, Italian, Greek,
Arabic, Persian, Sanscrit, Spanish, Portuguese, German, Reinic, Hebrew,
Bengalic, Hindi, Turkish, Tibetian, Pali, Phalavi, Deri, Russian, Syriac,
Ethiopic, Coptic, Welch, Swedish, Dutch, and Chinese ! What could
I hope to acquire after this ? My life, wasted out to its last flicker,
would be an idle devotion — I would be a learner on my death-bed ; and
so I abandoned my labour — -pleasing and useful as I found it — in dis-
satisfaction and anger, I was sated with civilians, who had wound me
in their complications until I lost the sense of decision ; theory after
theory — institution after institution — I found nothing perfect, and took
objections to all. I grew tired of the poets when the rush of curiosity
was over, and seldom went a second time to their feast of legends.

But my temper had warped even from its original gloom. My library
was a tomb ; it was strewed over with books ; I entered it with a fore-
boding, as if it was fate that was pushing me on ,- and yet I had no
inclination to seek a change. But new books at last came ; modern,
cheerful-looking, and such as I had not met before : glittering with
tempting embellishments, and written with flippancy and eloquence.
In these I found a solace — they banished the thickly-gathering de-
lirium for a while ; my brain, my soul, my very existence, was in my
new treasures ; I gloated over them in the dark — pressed them —
grasped them — they were my interlocutors with the creation — they
stood between me and the conventional usages of my race. I
found them animated by a knowledge such as I had been coveting and
despising— I found that they had eclipsed all my speculations, and

1831.] The Perplexities of a Book-Worm. 397

vaulted over time and space with freedom and activity — that they spoke
to the world not of first-born systems, and mathematical evidences, but
of results and consequences — as if they came not to convert men to
original principles, but to converse on their application. There was a
freshness, a vivacity, an electricity in this that awoke me from my deep
reverie of years. I saw that there was yet in books a cure for my dis-
temper, or I imagined I saw it. I was no longer hunted from proof to
proof — decoyed from syllogism to syllogism — but felt myself flattered
by authors who pre-supposed me to be acquainted with the necessary
groundwork of the disquisition. I felt the delicacy of this compliment
to the age, and began to apprehend that I had lived too long in my
solitude.

Enthusiasm was, as it were, re-created in me. I sat down in the
midst of my newly-acquired riches with the grasping avidity of the
miser, and I trembled lest I might be deprived, by accident, of the
enjoyments that now arose on every side around me. The disease that
had hitherto fastened sullenly upon my vitals, now seemed to take ano-
ther course ; and rushing to my eyes, and my cheeks, and my pulses,
inspired my whole frame with a glow and a palpitation to which I was
formerly a stranger. The freshness, and the curiosity, and the eagerness
of boyhood broke upon me in this my immature manhood ; my mind
expanded, quickened, and strengthened ; and if I was dogmatic before,
I now became precipitate and extravagant. But this change, although
it affected my feelings and my system, did not extend beyond its opera-
tion on my own thoughts : it had no external effect : it did not make me
relish society the better, nor induce me to compromise the gloom of my
study for the glitter of the drawing-room. I had not yet contemplated
my desolation. I had not yet felt that seclusion had done its work of
darkness upon me, and that the joy which now tingled through my
veins was only the gush of an embedded spring ; I only felt the selfish
satisfaction of a perfect communion with my own spirit, and I gloried
in its smothered voice. " I can never forget my knowledge," I cried,
" I can never forget my knowledge : friends might forsake, pleasures
deceive, rank and station delude me — but my knowledge never ! It
is with me always : it will not desert me in misfortune — it is that of
which no power can bereave me."

The new books increased upon me quickly, even to repletion. I had
scarcely time, although I laboured day and night, and rarely appor-
tioned sufficient leisure to exercise or repose, to obtain a hasty acquaint-
ance with their merits. Their views of life, of science, of all that I had
studiously struggled to learn, were masterly, brilliant, and rapid. I
was carried on in a perpetual flow of ease and eloquence. They had the
brevity of Pericles, and the march of Gibbon : they were models rather
than imitations, and were capable of instructing the ancients. The
celerity with which books increased, and their general adaptiveness to
all the purposes of amusement and utility, at length struck me as being
a remarkable feature in the age. Intellect, abroad in the world, had
either advanced in seven-leagued strides, or I, being out of the world,
had stood still. My own deficiency, at least in promptitude and vigour,
pressed upon me at every reflection ; and when I looked in on the blank
that lay upon my heart, I concluded that I had imbibed nothing in my
years of solitude, and that men, who were moving up and down in cease-
less activity, communicating, telegraphing, invigorating and inhaling
new ideas, and re-combining and relieving the old, had, in reality, far

398 The Perplexities of a Book- Worm. [ APRIL,

outstripped me in information, without paying the dear penalties of
wretchedness and destitution. I had dedicated myself to books from
my childhood — I had early parted from society, and all that others called
its pleasures — for objects, perhaps undefined, but certainly connected
with knowledge — yet I found in the end that my toils were only a waste
of my powers, that they left me embittered by a broken and imperfect,
yet disastrous, weight of acquirement — while others, the gay, the volup-
tuous, the thoughtless, who seemed never to have tasted the sickly fruits
of solitude, were winning the world's smile for the flippancy with which
they treated every topic, that had cost me incalculable labour and depri-
vation. The blandishments of society, then, I exclaimed, are not in
vain : they sharpen the sensibilities, and render more acute the organs
of our perception. Communication between mind and mind, and the
constant turmoil of discussion, and the collision of opinion, are calcu-
lated to preserve the understanding from rust. But the rust was cor-
roding upon mine — the canker was slowly seizing upon every fibre of
my reason. Yet it was not too late to seek health amongst men — to
abandon, for a while, the fetid air of my dungeon, and go abroad into
the universe. My determination was formed not rashly, but with a
melancholy conviction of its necessity ; and I adopted it in that despe-
rate obedience with which a wretched mourner consents to leave the
grave when its last human obsequies are performed.

Books, unlike women, are the better for being old — this was my
maxim — they are the better for being new, said my amended creed.
The new books linked, as it were, the antiquarian and the novelist ;
they united the lore of the ancients, and the vivacity of the moderns ;
they were written with knowledge and spirit ; and their wisdom was
put out in the language of all ages, and not melted down in the crucible
of an epoch, or a sect. The revolution they effected in my mind was
accompanied by minor observations interwoven with passing literature,
which helped to impress still more vividly upon my imagination the
picture of my change. I remarked the extraordinary fecundity of the
press in connection with the names of the eminent publishers and the
successful writers j and the whole drama of publication floated before
me in a pleasing chaos of wonder and illusion. I forged a thousand
deceptious notions of men whose names were constantly before me.
Murray and Colburn were my domestic physicians, and Longman and
his partners my medical advisers extraordinary. Southey, and Byron,
and Wordsworth, and Campbell, and Moore, wrought my curiosity and
my invention almost to frenzy : I sat hours etching their characters and
their books, and deceiving myself into fixed notions of their habits and
lineaments ; until at last I familiarized myself to the identity I fondly
traced for each. There was not in the whole of this shadowy gallery of
portraits a single shade or tint of unpleasantness or hardness — all was
aerial, tender, spiritual. I moulded the author into a semblance cor-
responding with the tone and nature of his works : the beautiful were
beautiful — the impassioned, impassioned — the lofty, lofty. What child
hath not dreamt of Mr. Newberry, the good Mr. Newberry of St. Paul's
Church-yard, arid loved him almost as a playmate ? And I was but a
child of a higher temperament, and a more aged enthusiasm.

These ruminations led to extensive consequences. I determined, as
I said before, to abandon my imprisonment ; and I thought nothing
could be easier than to meet and mingle with the living originals of
my pictures. To moot Southey on an old doctrine of the church — to

1831.] The Perplexities of a Book-Worm. 399

pose Professor Wilson on a stag-hunt in the mountains — to challenge
Scott to a discussion on legendary superstitions — to criticise foot to foot
with Campbell the rhythm of Gertrude of Wyoming — to hunt Roscoe
into a corner on Italian literature — to puzzle Moore and Beckford with
orientalisms — and even, for he was then alive, to discuss the laws of the
critical craft with Gifford himself; —these were amongst the feats I pro-
posed on launching into the ocean of living wit — and so, unmooring my
anchor of misanthropy, I prepared to leave my chamber of loneliness for
ever !

I entered it for the last time, fortified in my resolution. Behold me
arranging my books platonically : — gazing upon them with an effort at
frigidity that was painfully ridiculous, and endeavouring to whistle
away the throbs that heaved in my bosom. There is not a human being
who has not had an attachment at one period or another for some dumb
memorial of times gone by j who has not carved upon some tongueless
thing an epigraph of the heart's devotion ; — a tree — a house — a room —
linked to the memory by a train of mysterious associations. And such
were the bonds that endeared my solitary apartment to my feelings.
They were not to be snapped in an instant — they could not be violated
without the bitterest pangs.

Do not smile at this passion for books and their sanctuary. It is the
concentration of the affections, and not their object, that makes them
strong.

I gazed idly for a time upon the mass of volumes before me — they
grew dizzy in my eyes — a sickness slowly rose through my frame —
I felt it gaining on me as the dark tide covers the receding strand — I
summoned all my strength — rushed out into the daylight of the world
• — and was some miles on my way to London before I became fully con-
scious of what I had done. * * *

THE VOICE OF THE BEAUTIFUL.

To me it was a rich delight

On summer flowers to gaze —
To watch the sailing moon at night,

And bask beneath her rays —
To see the dancing sparkle bright

That in the diamond plays :
With varying raptures, all their own,
These charmed my sight — my sight alone.

Oft have I heard the whispering breeze,

And loved its melody —
Invoked fond Echo's mysteries,

Hung on her soft reply —
Or caught, 'mid listening ecstacies,

The night-bird's pensive cry :
With varying raptures, all their own,
These charmed mine ear — mine ear alone.

Thee have I seen, thou gifted Maid !

Ay, heard, and gazed on too ;
To flower — moon — gem, where brightness played,

The eye's best love was due.
Breeze — echo — bird of darksome glade,

The ear alone could woo :
But, ah ! 'tis thine — 'tis thine alone —
To charm the eye and ear in one ! C.

[ 400 ] [APRIL,

CROTCHET CASTLE.

WE noticed in detail some months since the numerous comic pro-
ductions of the author of the work now lying before us : we discussed
his powers of sarcasm and of irony, the range of his information, the
sprightliness of his fancy, and, above all, his singular — we might almost
add — his unequalled talents for ridicule and caricature. Our present
task is, therefore, comparatively speaking, a barren one. Crotchet
Castle is indeed little more than a various reading of Headlong Hall
and Nightmare Abbey. The same characters (or nearly so) appear on
the stage ; the same set of quaint opinions are burlesqued ; the same
truths developed ; the same sophistries exposed ; in a word, the same
predominant faculty pervades it throughout, from the alpha to the
omega of the book. Mr. Peacock, though he has much of Rabelais, and
something of Swift, in his manner, has (unlike these great writers) no
very extensive power of invention. He travels always in the same
track, halts always at the same goal. His mental vision is acute, but
limited in its range ; looking abroad over society, not from a height but
from a level. His knowledge of life, too, is chiefly drawn from books ;
the scholar predominates over the man of the world. Hence, even in
his most spirited illustrations, an air of languor, stiffness, and pedantry,
is perceptible. His characters do not live in his descriptions : they are
not vivid realities, but cold abstractions ; not flesh and blood, but opi-
nions personified. Were we to entitle his novels dramatic essays, we
should, we conceive, be giving them their most appropriate designation.
Thus designated, they may lay claim to decided originality, and, as a
lively satirical digest of the intellectual follies of the day, will be read
and admired long after the majority of our present popular publications
have been sent to line trunks, portmanteaus, and band-boxes.

The plot of Crotchet Castle, like all Mr. Peacock's plots, possesses
the rare merit of conciseness and simplicity, and may be told in a
few words. 'Squire Crotchet, a most amusing Scotch pedant, and
so far an anomaly — your genuine Pictish pedant being the great-
est ass, and the most interminable bore in creation — having made a
fortune in the way peculiar to his countrymen, resolves, in his old
age, to enjoy the otium cum dignitate of rural life, so retires to a
valley on the banks of the Thames, where he purchases a castle,
and makes all possible haste to people it with guests of his own
way of thinking — that is, with a set of men, each of whom is notorious
in metropolitan literary society for some peculiar absurdity. The story
opens with the arrival at Crotchet Castle of a squad of these learned
ignoramusses, among whom are Mr. McQuedy, the political economist,
a gentleman whose notions of civilized life are drawn from his recollec-
tions of the Modern Athens — as Edinburgh has the incredible assurance
to style herself: — the Rev. Dr. Folliott (a divine greatly to our taste),
who is fond of reading and good living, and is remarkable for his
shrewdness and causticity, and the strong sterling sense that pervades
his remarks ; Lord Bossnowl, a lord and nothing more ; Mr. Firedamp,
a philosopher, who thinks that water is the evil principle, who sees ague
in a duck-pond, malaria in the river Thames, and the semen of depo-
pulation in the British Channel — who shrinks from a gutter as from a
fever, and from a shower of rain as from a pestilence ; Mr. Eavesdrop,
a smart, shewy, prattling idler, who hits off his personal friends in

1831.] Crotchei Castle. 401

novels, and pays the penalty on his shoulders ; Mr. Henbane, an ama-
teur of poisons and antidotes, whose highest ambition is to kill cats for the
purpose of bringing them to life again, and -who eventually dispatches
himself by a somewhat similar process; Mr. Skionar, a poetic philosopher,
a curious compound of the intense and the mystical, who settles every
thing by sentiment and intuition ; Mr. Chainmail, an amusing, good-
natured young antiquarian, deep in monkish literature, and a strenuous
admirer of the fighting, feasting, and praying of the twelfth century ;
Mr. Toogood, a co-operationist, indefatigable in his endeavours to parcel
out the world into squares like a chess-board; Miss Touchandgo, daugh-
ter of the great banker, who evaporated one foggy morning, and was
found wanting when his customers, in a body, did him the favour of a
call ; Crotchet, junior, son of 'Squire Crotchet of the Castle, a youth
ambitious of bubble notoriety, and a partner in the eminent loan-jobbing
firm of Catchflat and Company ; and lastly, Lady Clarinda Bossnowl,
a virgin of much shrewdness and discretion, and idolized by Captain
Fitzchrome, a warrior, with the usual military allowance of brains. At
the opening of the tale these various personages are all represented as
seated round the breakfast- table of 'Squire Crotchet, when the following
characteristic conversation occurs among them : —

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. Sir, I say every nation has some eximious virtue'; and
your country is pre-eminent in the glory of fish for breakfast. We have much
to learn from you in that line at any rate.

Mr. Mac Quedy. And in many others, Sir, I believe. Morals and meta-
physics, politics arid political economy, the way to make the most of all the
modifications of smoke ; steam, gas, and paper currency; you have all these
to learn from us ; in short, all the arts and sciences. We are the modern
Athenians.

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. I, for one, Sir, am content to learn nothing from you
but the art and science offish for breakfast. Be content, Sir, to rival the Boeo-
tians, whose redeeming virtue was in fish ; touching which point, you may
consult Aristophanes and his scholiast in the passage of Lysistrata— -
«xx' c6<i>jXE TO,; ly^fXtij * — and leave the name of Athenians to those who have a
sense of the beautiful, and a perception of metrical quantity.

Mr. Mac Quedy. Then, Sir, I presume you set no value on' the right prin-
ciples of rent, profit, wages, and currency ?

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. My principles, Sir, in these things are, to take as
much as I can get, and to pay no more than I can help. These are every man's
principles, whether they be the right principles or no. There, Sir, is political
economy in a nut-shell.

This, though meant as burlesque, is the truest serious definition we
have yet met with of political economy. Mr. Peacock has plucked out
the heart of the mystery. He has entered into no polite compromises ;
indulged in no ambiguous circumlocution ; but boldly exposed this
humbug science in its true colours, and stripped the peacock plumes off
the jackdaws who profess it. We say humbug science, for if ever there
was a hoax, equal to that of the celebrated bottle-conjuror, political eco-
nomy is that one. Though its main object is to explain and illustrate
the nature and properties of wealth, no two writers have yet been able
to agree in their definition of wealth ; though it professes to be wholly of
a practical character, it abounds in more visionary, untenable, inconclu-

* Calonice wishes destruction to all Boeotians. Lysistrata answers, " Except the
eels." — Lysistrata, S6.

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. 64. 3 F

402 Crotchet Castle. [[APRIL,

sive theories than any other science with which modern literature is
afflicted ; though it is said by its amateurs to be simple in its nature, it
is more abstruse than the sDnigma of the Sphynx. The only man who
ever yet made any thing of political economy, or ever wrote two con-
secutive lines of grammar on the subject, was Adam Smith. Since his
time, the science has been completely at a stand-still. Fools have got
hold of it, and made it the peg whereon to hang a variety of asinine
speculations ; quacks have perpetrated volumes on the subject, and fan-
cied they were familiar with a Juno, when, in fact, they were merely
embracing a cloud ; and knaves have patronized it as an apology for
their otherwise indefensible rogueries. In nine cases out of ten we hold
a political economist to be a blockhead, and in the tenth, we feel con-
vinced that he is a knave. Fortunately, however, for the interests of
true philosophy the science is at its last gasp. It has been weighed in
the balance of common sense, and found wanting. Still Mr. Peacock's
sneer is serviceable, and even seasonable. It is the last weight, be it
only a straw, that breaks the camel's back. Equally admirable are our
author's sarcasms on the lucre-loving spirit of the age. We subjoin a
specimen. - It is a dialogue between a lover and his mistress : —

Lady Clarinda. I am glad to see you can make yourself so happy with
drawing old trees and mounds of grass.

Captain Fitzchrome. Happy, Lady Clarinda ! oh, no ! How can I be happy
when I see the idol of my heart about to be sacrificed on the shrine of Mam-
mon ?

Lady Clarinda. Do you know, though Mammon has a sort of ill name, I
really think he is a very popular character; there must be at the bottom
something- amiable about him. He is certainly one of those pleasant creatures
whom every body abuses, but without whom no evening party is endurable.
I dare say, love in a cottage is very pleasant ; but then it must positively be
a cottage ornee : but would not the same love be a greal deal safer in a castle,
even if Mammon furnished the fortification ?

Captain Fitzchrome. Oh, Lady Clarinda, there is a heartlessness in that
language that chills me to the soul.

Lady Clarinda. Heartlessness ! No : my heart is on my lips. I speak just
what I think. You used to like it, and say it was as delightful as it was
rare.

Captain Fitzchrome. True, but you did not then talk as you do now of love
in a castle.

Lady Clarinda. Well, but only consider : a dun is a horridly vulgar creature;

it is a creature I cannot endure the thought of: and a cottage lets him in so

easily. Now a castle keeps him at bay. You are a half-pay officer, and are

1 at leisure to command the garrison : but where is the castle ? and who is to

furnish the commissariat?

Captain Fitzchrome. Is it come to this, that you make a jest of my poverty ?
Yet is my poverty only comparative. Many decent families are maintained on
smaller means.

Lady Clarinda. Decent families : ay, decent is the distinction from respect-
able. Respectable means rich, and decent means poor. I should die if I
heard my family called decent. And then your decent family always lives in
a snug little place : I hate a little place ; I like large rooms and large looking-
glasses, and large parties, and a fine large butler, with a tinge of smooth red
in his face — an outward and visible sign that the family he serves is respect-
able— if not noble, highly respectable.

Mr. Peacock's dinner chit-chat is admirable and not over-done. It
has a flavour about it equal to that of a woodcock, the prince (in his
own illustrious line) of dainties.-—

1831.] Crotchet Castle. 403

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. Here is a very fine salmon before me : and May is the
very point nommt to have salmon in perfection. There is a fine turbot close by,
and there is much to be said in his behalf; but salmon in May is the king
of fish.

Mr. Crotchet. That salmon before you, Doctor, was caught in the Thames
this morning1.

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. na7i«7r«t ! Rarity of rarities ! A Thames salmon caught
this morning! Now, Mr. Mac Quedy, even in fish your modern Athens must
yield. Cedite Graii.

Mr. Mac Quedy. Eh ! Sir, on its own ground, your Thames salmon has two
virtues over all others; first, that it is fresh; and, second, that it is rare; for
1 understand you do not take half a dozen in a year.

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. In some years, Sir, not one. Mud, filth, gas-dregs,
lock-wiers, and the march of mind, developed in the form of poaching, have
ruined the fishery. But, when we do catch a salmon, happy the man to whom
he falls.

Mr. Mac Quedy. I confess, Sir, this is excellent : but I cannot see why it
should be better than a Tweed salmon at Kelso.

Mr. Crotchet, Jun. Champagne, Doctor !

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. Most willingly. But you will permit my drinking it
while it sparkles." I hold it a heresy to let it deaden in my hand, while the
glass of my compotator is being filled on the opposite side of the table. — By the
by, Captain, you remember a passage in Athenseus, where he cites Menander
on the subject of fish-sauce : o4«pi0y fal l-^uo;. (The Captain was aghast for an
answer that would satisfy both his neighbours, when he was relieved by the divine
continuing.} The science of fish-sauce, Mr. Mac Quedy, is by no means
brought to perfection ; a fine field of discovery still lies open in that line.

Mr. Mac Quedy. Nay, Sir, beyond lobster-sauce, I take it, ye cannot go.

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. In their line, I grant you, oyster and lobster sauce are
the pillars of Hercules. But I speak of the cruet sauces, where the quint-
essence of the sapid is condensed in a phial. I can taste in my mind's palate
a combination, which, if I could give it reality, I would christen with the
name of my college, and hand it down to posterity as a seat of learning
indeed.

The only fault — but that, as Dennis Brulgruddery observes of his
wife's tippling, cf is a thumper" — we find with the above scientific dia-
logue is its gastronomic heterodoxy. Mr. Peacock — tell it not in Gath,
proclaim it not in Ascalon — prefers a Thames salmon to all others ! It
is really quite distressing to see the infirmity of judgment that some
strong minds possess. Still more distressing is it to reflect that such in-
firmity is far from uncommon, and that under its malign influence Mil-
ton preferred his Paradise Regained to his Paradise Lost ; and Byron
his Hints from Horace to his Childe Harold. Thames Salmon supe-
rior to all others! Singular infatuation! Did Mr. Peacock, who
describes Welch scenery so vividly and so characteristically, never taste a
salmon, born, educated, and reared to man's estate in the springs of the
Towy, where the cloud-capped Llynn-y-Van, lord of the Black Moun-
tains, looks abroad over a dozen counties, and sees no rival? We appre-
hend he never did, or the recollection would linger on his mind with all
the vividness of " love's young dream." Taking this, therefore, for
granted, we hold it to be our sacred duty to set him right on a point in
which the honour of South Wales is materially concerned. Thames
salmon, though fine, and, like Hunt's blacking, even " matchless" in its
way, is so only by comparison. It is luscious, but sophisticated. Welch
salmon, on the contrary, is the unadulterated offspring of nature. It
has never been drenched with gas-scourings ; is innocent of the flavour

3 F 2

404 Crotchet Castle. [APRIL,

of town filth ; and has never experienced attacks of indigestion from
too hastily bolting the miscellaneous contributions of a hundred Fleet
Ditches. In its outer Adam it is symmetry itself; in flavour it smacks of
the pure mountain air, which no town or city smoke has ever yet pre-
sumed to pollute. But indeed every way it is superior to its Saxon
kinsman. Its habits are more shy, more delicate ; it keeps little or no
company ; goes to bed at an early hour, and is consequently more healthy
in constitution ; and, above all, is a thousand times more fastidious in its
choice of diet. It will never, for instance, take up with a bit of rancid
bacon, as a Windsor salmon of our acquaintance once did. Still less
will it bolt a sausage, as was the case with a Henley salmon with which
we once had the honour of a chance connection in the head inn of that
agreeable town. Its only blemish — and what mortal creature is perfect ?
— is its exuberant vivacity, which is but too apt to deteriorate its con-
dition by abridging its obesity.

With Mr. Peacock's opinions on lobster-sauce we presume not to quar-
rel. De gustibus non est disputandum — which, by the by, we should
have recollected before we presumed to question his salmonian sagacity.
Still even on this point there is ample room for controversy, into which,
however, we shall defer entering till we have made ourselves acquainted
with the Bishop of London's theory on the subject. Our present impulse
leads us to look on lobstersauce with more reverence than affection ; as
an object rather to be respectfully shunned than affectionately adhered
to. Sed hactenus hoec.

We are much pleased with the humorous extravagance of our author's
description of a sallow, care-worn man of business, who is represented
as looking " as if he had tumbled headlong into a volcano, and been
thrown up again among the cinders." We cannot, however, accord
praise to his sneers at the immortal Waverley Novels. Here they are for
the reader's benefit, who, we suspect, will not be a little astonished : —

Lady Clarinda. History is but a tiresome thing in itself: it becomes more
agreeable the more romance is mixed up with it. The great enchanter has
made me learn many things which I should never have dreamed of studying-,
if they had not come to me in the form of amusement.

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. What enchanter is that ? There are two enchanters :
he of the north, and he of the south.

Mr. Trillo. Rossini?

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. Ay, there is another enchanter. But I mean the great
enchanter of Covent Garden : he who, for more than a quarter of a century,
has produced two pantomimes a year, to the delight of children of all ages,
— including myself at all ages. That is the enchanter for me, I am for the
pantomimes. All the northern enchanter's romances put together, would not
furnish materials for half the southern enchanter's pantomimes.

Lady Clarinda. Surely you do not class literature with pantomime ?

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. In these cases, I do. They are both one, with a slight
difference. The one is the literature of pantomime — the other is the panto-
mime of literature. There is the same variety of character, the same diversity
of story, the same copiousness of incident, the same research into costume, the
same display of heraldry, falconry, minstrelsy, scenery, monkery, witchery,
devilry, robbery, poachery, piracy, fishery, gipsy-astrology, demoriology,
architecture, fortification, castrametation, navigation ; the same running base
of love and battle. The main difference is, that the one set of amusing fic-
tions is told in music and action ; the other in all the worst dialects of the
English language. As to any sentence worth remembering, any moral or
political truth, anything having a tendency, however remote, to make men

1831.3 Crotchet Castle. 406

wiser or better — to make them think, to make them ever think of thinking1;
they are both precisely alike : nuspiam, nequaquam, nuttibi, nullimodis.

Lady Clarinda. Very amusing1, however.

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. Very amusing, very amusing.

Mr. Chainmail. My quarrel with the northern enchanter is, that he has
grossly misrepresented the twelfth century.

The Rev. Dr. Folliott. He has misrepresented every thing, or he would not
have been very amusing. Sober truth is but dull matter to the reading-rabble.
The angler who puts not on his hook the bait that best pleases the fish, may sit
all day on the bank without catching a gudgeon.

Mr. Peacock, in this extract, blames the Waverley Novels for not
being, what their author never intended they should be. Political— we
say nothing of moral — truths in a professed work of fiction, are as irre-
levant as puns in a sermon. We neither expect them, nor desire them.
Character, incident, and description — these are the true staples of
romance : and in these Sir W. Scott abounds to profusion. In these he
rivals " all but Shakspeare's name below." Who can forget his Fergus
Mac Ivor — bis Bradwardine — his Rob Roy — his Tony Fire-the-faggot —
his Die Vernon — his Flora — and his Dalgetty ? Who does not thrill
at the recollection of his dead smuggler in the Cave of- Derncleugh —
his account of the battle between Bothwell and Burleigh — of the last
moments of Meg Merrilies — of the conflagration of Front de Bceuf's
Castle ? Who does not tread the greensward in fancy with Gurth, the
Saxon herdsman — breathe the mountain air with Rob Roy at the Clachan
of Aberfoyle — and grow mellow with Dalgetty at Sir Duncan's Castle
of Ardvoirlich ? These are characters and descriptions never, <( while
memory holds her seat/' to be forgotten. They have taken a hold of
the national mind, that no after-changes in the national literature will
ever have power to affect. The stamp of eternity is on them. They
are imperishable as nature herself. Still, wondrous enchanter as he is,
Sir Walter Scott is, in many respects, surpassed by not a few of his
coternporary novelists. In depth of thought, and acute analysis of the
springs of human passion, he is far — very far inferior to Godwin ; in
stern masculine energy he must be content to rank below the author of
Anastasius ; in the elevated tone of his morality he is not to be com-
pared with Ward ; still less with Mr. Peacock himself, in the breadth

and richness of his humour. But it is in his variety — in his invention .

in the lavish fertility of his incidents, that he claims the superiority over
all his cotemporaries. He is not one, but Legion. He has not done one
thing well, but every thing. His genius has the true Midas power, and
transmutes all that it touches into gold. As Johnson observed of Gold-
smith, so may we say with more propriety of Scott, nullum tetigit quod
non ornamt. May he write a hundred more novels, and may we survive
to read them !

Returning from this digression, we proceed with more satisfaction to
our author's summary criticism on modern poetry. It is true to the
life : — .

Mr. Chainmail. The poetry which was addressed to the people of the dark
ages, pleased in proportion to the truth with which it depicted familiar images,
and to their natural connection with the time and place to which they were
assigned. In the poetry of our enlightened times, the characteristics of all
seasons, soils, and climates may be blended together, with much benefit to
the author's fame as an original genius. The cowslip of a civic poet is always

406 Crotchet Castle. [APRIL,

in blossom, his fern is always in full feather ; he gathers the celandine, the
primrose, the heath-flower, the jasmine, and the chrysanthemum, all on the
same day, and from the same spot ; his nightingale sings all the year round,
his moon is always full, his cygnet is as white as his swan j his cedar is as
tremulous as his aspen, and his poplar as embowering as his beech. Thus all
nature marches with the march of mind ; but, among barbarians, instead of
mead and wine, and the best seat by the fire, the reward of such a genius
would have been to be summarily turned out of doors in the snow, to meditate
on the difference between day and night, and between December and July.
It is an age of liberality, indeed, when not to know an oak from a burdock is
no disqualification for sylvan mynstrelsy. I am for truth and simplicity.

" I am for truth and simplicity/' says Mr. Peacock, in the person of
Chainmail the antiquarian. So are we. But where is it to be found ?
Not in poetry, for we have none. Effect — effect — effect — this is the
first — this the second — this the third fashionable desideratum in modern
bards. Owing to the demand for such stimulus, poetry has been
gathered to her fathers, and rhyme reigns in her stead. " Amurath an
Amurath succeeds;" rhymester follows rhymester — each more dull —
each more artificial — each more incorrigible than the last. Mr. Pea-
cock, consequently, is as felicitious in his criticism on modern poetry
as in his definition of political economy. But our limits warn us to close.
" Tempus equum spumanlia solvere colla" — so says an ugly devil at our
elbow. Suffice it then to say, that Crotchet Castle will well repay
perusal. It is lively, satirical, and even learned, though without pedantry
or assumption. It is, however, as we observed before, too much a Vari-
orum edition — too much an echo of its predecessors.

" Grove nods at grove, each alley has its brother,
And half the platform just reflects the other."

Mr. Skionar is a mere adumbration of Mr. Flosky in Nightmare Abbey
— Dr. Folliott only differs in name from Dr. Portpipe in Melincourt — as for
Clarinda Bossnowl, she is evidently twin-sister to Anthelia Melincourt ;
and we half suspect, although they seem ashamed to acknowledge the
connection, that Messrs. Catchflat and Company, with their head clerk,
Robthetill, have had large literary dealings, and derived many service-
able hints from the equally eminent firm of Air-bubble, Smoke-shadow,
Hop-the-twig, and their secretary, Wm. Walkoff, who figure so promi-
nently in Melincourt. Of one thing we are certain. Mr. Toogood is
neither more nor less than Mr. Toobad— one of the heroes of Nightmare
Abbey — in a high state of health and good humour — in which condition
we leave him and the other inhabitants of Crotchet Castle to make their
way with the public.

1831.] [ 407 ]

THE TABERNACLE, OR SUNDAY IN LUNNUN.

COME, ye mopes, and drones, and droopers !
Listen to me in your stupors ; —
Come, ye gaunt and grim old maids !
Long since fitted for the shades ; —
Hear me, from your darkest den,
All ye " old, unmarried" men ! —
All ye tribes of wretches, come —
Denizens of sin and gloom !
Give me a responsive throe,
While I sing your song of woe !

Morn is up — pale, chill, and murky —
Looking well inclined to Burke ye ;
Through the fetid fog the bell
Rings as with your funeral knell ;
Heaven is cloud, and Earth is mud,
Promising a London flood.
Just as strikes the last half-hour,
Down comes, thick and thin, the shower !
On ye put your Sunday satins,
Hurrying to your doctor's matins ;
Slippery every stone as glass,
(Lately, too, broke up for gas !) —
All the brats of shops and schools,
All the " mighty serious" fools,
All the 'prentice-gentlemen,
Promenading through the fen —
Till subsides the general cackle
At the pious Tabernacle !

There you find no Doctor Prosy,
As an apple round and rosy ;
Happy proof that all the dinners
Are not left among the sinners ;
Happy proof that beef may line
Cheeks and ribs the most divine ;
Happy proof that port may paint
Even the most world-hating saint !
There you find — wild, gaunt, arid grim-
Fierce of face, and lank of limb,
With that mystic sweep of eye,
Fixed at once on earth and sky ;
Now a comet's fiery glare
Blazing from his matted hair j
Now a melancholy moon,
Melting to some wizard tune ;
Whiskered like a bold hussar,
Stands our man of holy war.

Every hole and corner filled ;
All the winter asthmas stilled ;
All the brats forbid to cry ;
All the hats and caps laid by ;
Past, in short, the usual rustle
Of the saintly in a bustle ;
Hushed the clearing of the lungs ;
Hushed almost the women's tongues ;
All the world behind them cast —
* » Comes the mighty man at last !

408 The Tabernacle, or Sunday in Lvntiun. [APRIL,

Half a sigh and half a groan
Opens thus his holy moan : —

" Away — away, ye sinners all !
Falling all, and born to fall ;
Here, among two thousand souls,
Not a tenth shall 'scape the coals.
From the ceiling to the floor,
Dare I count of saints a score ?
What are all without, within ? —
Sin and shame, and shame and sin.
First, ye women — sex called fair — •
Look within — what see ye there ?
Hear me, your especial martyr !
(I myself once caught a Tartar;
Looking rashly for a catch,
Soon I found I met my match).
Light as feathers in your bonnets ;
Full of novels, songs, and sonnets ;
Stings of aspics in your lips ;
Poison in your fingers' tips ;
From the forehead to the feet
All one .dangerous, deep deceit ;
Patches, petticoats, and paint — •
Who now sees a female saint ? '
Fallen angels ! down ye go
To the hottest hearth below !

ff Now, ye smiling gentlemen,
Think ye to escape your den?
Know ye that Old Nick's fireside
Is for men and maids full wide ?
There you'll have no tender glancing;
Life is there no morris-dancing !
Down ye go, ten thousand feet,
In a new, blue sulphur sheet !
There you'll have no Lord Mayor's feasts,
Turning aldermen to beasts ;
There you'll clear no cent, per cents. ;
There you'll have no quarters' rents;
There no gallop after foxes ;
There no pit-tier opera-boxes ;
There no pleasant slice of place ;
There ' no notice from his Grace ;'
There no flirting in the bevy,
Gathered at the royal levee ;
There no three hours' trip to Brighton,
Bile and purse at once to lighten ;
There no continental trip,
Life, like new champagne, to sip ; —
Husband, placeman, swindler, rover,
There your wild-oat days are over !

" I own it, there are joys in life,
(I speak to those without a wife),
When down its early stream we glide,
Like straws or feathers on the tide ;
When all the hours are morning hours,
And all the landscapes fruits and flowers ;
And all the sky above is blue,
And inly whispering, ' This will do V

1831.] The Tabernacle, or Sunday in Lunmtn. 409

That rascal Vanity drives on,
The booby ! till liis day is done.

" First comes the sympathetic friend,
Who'll borrow all you have to lend,
And stick beside you without fail,
Until he sees you lodged in jail !

" Or comes some man-catcher from France,
With steel-traps writ in every glance ;
Slight, simple, owning to seventeen ;
Her eyes scarce hinting what they mean ;
Her form, face, • simper all divine ;
Her fortune quite a diamond mine.
You stir a passion in her breast —
1 She'll die before the tale's confest ;'
You find her shrinking, sighing, flying —
In fact, the tender thing's just dying !
She ' dreads your sight, she spurns mankind :'
Somehow, her love for you gets wind ;
Somehow, at Brighton, Bristol, Bath,
She always tumbles in your path';
Till somehow comes some whiskered brother,
To swear ' you're fitted for each other.'
Or, if you pause about your pledge,
You've but to CFOSS next farm-yard hedge,
And there youjll find the favourite spot
For fickle lovers to be shot.

" Your stomach scorns the leaden pill ;
He asks the deed, and not the will.
The deed is done — you pop the question —
(A life may serve for its digestion).
The lady smiles, is shocked, submits—
Not more than twice a day has fits ;
Hope> smiling Hope's the lady's doctor —
Then comes the lawyer, then the proctor ;
(Perhaps you'd wish the hangman come,
But ( love and rapture' keep you dumb ;)
You're wedded. History discovers
You've followed half a dozen lovers.
Your heiress is a shrew and beggar ;
But then — her blood's the true McGregor.
You've played the blockhead for your life,
And gained brats, brawlings, and a wife !

ee Now go, ye race of culprits, go
Where pitchforks toss ye to and fro ;
Where, on the roaring river's brink,
Proof aquafortis is your drink ;
Where all your beds are burning coals,
And all your suppers are fried soles ;
Where all alike, from king to shepherd,
Are daily grilled and cayenne-peppered ;
Where all the liquid at your lunch
Is patent oiUof-vitriol punch;
Where pure corrosive-sublimate
Is sauce for every slice ye eat;
Where sulphur forms your table-cloths,
And churchwardens prepare your broths;
And Fate's consummate vengeance gives
To every wretch a dozen wives !"
M.M. New Series.-* VOL. XI. No. 64. 3 G

[ 410 ] [APRIL,

SHIPS, COLONIES, AND COMMERCE.

THE extraordinary doctrines which some of our legislators have of late
years endeavoured to reduce to practice, in pursuance of speculative
theories of ultra free-trade, are absurdities, fraught with such mis-
chievous consequences, that they have attracted the serious attention of
all those whose immediate interests are at stake.

Experienced merchants, especially those nearly concerned in our
shipping and colonial interests, have taken the alarm, and have at length
bestirred themselves in opposition to measures, which instead of advanc-
ing the general prosperity of the empire, are rather calculated to under-
mine and destroy all those sources of national wealth, which, till lately,
rendered us the envy of every nation of Europe and America, and
enabled us to set their united efforts for our destruction at defiance.

So long as our distant colonists were the immediate sufferers, these
ruinous schemes met with less opposition than they deserved ; but when
ministers, by their recent budget, openly manifested a determination to
set the opinions of practical men at defiance, and to act upon their own
erroneous and ultra views — commercial men could no longer remain
inactive, and this gave occasion to one of the most numerous and respec-
table meetings ever witnessed on any similar occasion : — the persons
assembled not only marked their disapprobation in the strongest lan-
guage, but the influence of their opinions has been manifested in the
House of Commons, by a very large majority against ministers !*

Notwithstanding the agitation created in every quarter by the momen-
tous question of Reform — this demonstration in support of ec Ships,
Colonies and Commerce," has been followed by meetings in various
commercial towns. We hope the resolutions passed at these meetings
will be pressed upon the serious consideration of Parliament, until the
dictates of reason and common sense are listened to. We should regret
exceedingly that the degree of distrust and dissatisfaction which has
been created by the financial attempts above alluded to, should militate
against any measure really necessary for the good of the country, — yet
it must be admitted that if in the guidance of interests of vital import-
ance to the empire at large, there has been an evident want of capacity,
it can hardly be expected that implicit confidence and support upon
other points are likely to follow.

We have so frequently pointed out the ruinous effects of our anti-
colonial policy, and the misery and distress which, if persisted in, it was
likely to create — that we scarcely consider it necessary to enter more
fully into the subject. Suffice it to say, that West India planters who
were at one time wealthy, are now reduced by it to poverty ; and finding
themselves yearly getting into further difficulties, some of them, we
believe, have actually been forced to abandon their estates and labourers
to their mortgagees, and other creditors ! In a very few years more,
unless immediate relief be afforded, the negroes on many estates will
manifest the want of their usual comforts by riot and insubordination :
the flame once raised, will spread rapidly, and instead of happy commu-
nities, rising in civilization, we shall have misery and bloodshed !

Then, indeed, when the consequences are felt at home, and when it is
too late to apply a remedy, we shall have every mercantile city and manu-

* Vide Debate and Division on the Timber Duties.

1831.] Ships, Colonies, and Commerce. 411

facturing town in the kingdom, clamorously petitioning for the restoration
and protection of our colonies, and colonial trade ! and we shall, in
the decay of our naval power and financial resources, see abundant
reason to lament that these ultra free-trade opinions were not timously
opposed.

It has been a favourite argument with the advocates for the system
alluded to, that it was only necessary to shew rival nations that we were
actuated by a liberal spirit in these matters, to induce them to adopt our
views, and subscribe to a system of reciprocity — but what has been the
result of our experience ? Mr. Powlet Thomson, in his official capa-
city, has been forced to declare a few days ago, on one of those points
which incidently came under discussion, that " correspondence upon
correspondence has passed upon this subject, but we have not the power
to compel other countries to adopt other systems than those which from rea-
sons of their own they are at present disposed to adhere to;" or, in other
words, they wisely for themselves adhere to those regulations which they
have found to be the most advantageous, they avail themselves of our
errors, and are year by year trenching upon some valuable branch of
our trade. Even the United States, which, from the free nature of
their institutions, might be expected to entertain generous notions of
commercial reciprocity — have adopted, and strictly a'dhere to a closely
exclusive system of commercial regulations. For the encouragement and
protection of their own produce and manufactures they levy prohibitive,
or at least heavy duties on our colonial and other products ;* and although
their decidedly English habits, and the cheapness of some British manu-
factures, induce them to take our goods to a considerable extent annually,
they nevertheless encourage, as far as circumstances will admit, their
own rising establishments, and are keenly using every exertion to make
themselves entirely independent of us.

Under all these circumstances it would seem to be nothing unreason-
able to expect that our rulers should pause in their attempts to enforce
their ruinous theories, until, at least, they had time to consider and dis-
cuss their ultimate consequences ! But what has been the fact ? Instead
of endeavouring to relieve our sugar colonies from that distress which
is admitted by all parties to be of the most overwhelming description,
and instead of fostering and encouraging those other colonies in which
our surplus population finds a ready asylum — they have recently pro-
posed to place two of them — namely, the Canadas, and the Cape of
Good Hope, in a situation of similar misery with our sugar colonies, by
imposing ruinous duties on their staple commodities — a measure which
would have been a benefit to the Norwegians, the Swedes, Prussians,
French, Spaniards, and Portuguese — who take very few goods from us
— but which would have had the effect not only to destroy a great part
of the capital engaged in the trade, agriculture, &c. of the colonies in
question, but would also have thrown some thousands of British ship-
ping and seamen entirely out of employment !

*. d.

* On our Raw Sugars they exact about 15 0 per cwt.

Coffee 250 ditto.

Rum , 3 8 per gallon.

Molasses 0 6 ditto.

Salt 200 per cent.

3 G 2

412 Ships, Colonies, and Commerce. [[APRIL,

It is true that the first of these measures has for the present been
defeated, and the second modified ; but nevertheless it shews the animus
by which, towards our colonies, ministers are governed ; and as the
same attempts will in all probability be renewed, it may be worth while
to point out some of the reasons urged against the adoption of the pro-
posed measures.

Sir Howard Douglas, the Governor of New Brunswick, in a very able
pamphlet,* points out the value and importance of our British North
American possessions, and " the circumstances on which depend their
further prosperity, and colonial connection with Great Britain."

There are two signs (says Sir Howard) under which the statesman
may estimate the value and importance of the British North American
Colonies. The one is positive, the other relative. The positive, or
absolute value, consists in the shipping they employ, the seamen they
form, the manufactures they consume, the supplies of which they are
the home sources for the British market and our West India Colonies,
and the mastings and spars which they ensure for our navy in the day
of need. The sign under which the relative importance of the northern
provinces may be considered, indicates the effect of placing all these
elements of statistical greatness in the opposite scale of the beam, by
\vhich the statesm'an should carefully weigh the effects of measures
which, though treated as fiscal or finance questions, reach, in fact, into
matters of the very highest order of policy.

The permanency of the colonial connection between Great Britain and
the North American Provinces, rests entirely on the manner in which
their interests are dealt with by the British Parliament ; it is therefore
of the greatest importance to consider what effects are likely to be pro-
duced upon the interests of those colonies, by the proposed alteration in
the duties on foreign and North American timbers.

It is stated that the population of the British North American Pro-
vinces was in the year 1828 about 1,000,000, and increasing -in a higher
ratio than that of the adjoining New England States ; and the British
Colonies consume in corresponding augmentations the manufactures and
goods of Great Britain and Ireland, and take increasing quantities of
West India produce, upon which the United States have laid heavy
duties, to encourage the production of their own sugars.

In 1828, the amount of British manufactures consumed in British
North America was about £2,000,000 value, so that those Provinces
take about 40s. each person per annum of British goods.

The amount of British manufactures imported into the United States
from the United Kingdom, in 1826 (see Watterston's Statistics), was
26,181,800 dollars, which at 4s. 6d. is £5,876,975 ; the population of
the United States for that year being 12,000,000,- it follows that the peo-
ple of the United States do not take, per person, one-fourth so much of
British goods as the people of the British Colonies.

The whole British tonnage trading to British North America before
the revolution, namely, in the year 1772, was only 86,745 tons. The
British tonnage trading to the British North American Provinces in the
year 1828 was 400,841 tons, navigated by at least 25,000 seamen, which
is nearly one-Jifth of the whole foreign trade of the country ; and this pro-

* " Considerations on the value and importance of the British Nortli American
Provinces," &c. &c. Bv Major-General Sir Howard Douglas, Bart. K.S.C., C.B.,
F.R.S., &c. &c.

1831.] Ships, Colonies, and Commerce. 413

digiously increased, and still active trade, should be considered a home
trade. There is no doubt that the home trade should be preferred to
foreign trade ; but that position which, in argument or in fiscal arrange-
ment, would consider the colonial trade not to be a home trade, brings
the colonial interest under a wrong denomination.

Let us now see in what way this matter is viewed by the government of
the United States. It appears* that the population of the British Provinces
increased, between the years 1806 and 1825, more than 113 per cent.,
whilst that of New England increased only 27 per cent. ; that the imports
of the British Colonies have been almost quadrupled in amount, and the
exports considerably more than doubled in that time ;t while the exports
and imports of the United States in 1828 were about the same in amount
as they were in 1807; that while the whole foreign trade of the
United States, with every part of the world, has remained stationary for
fifteen years, the navigation of the British Colonies, with the mother-
country alone, has increased, as the Report states, from 88,247 to
400,841 tons, J or about one half of all the American tonnage employed
in its foreign trade, which in 1828 was only 824,781 tons, being an
increase of only 253,528 tons, or a fraction less than 3 per cent, on what
it was in 1820 ; while the increase of the foreign navigation of Great
Britain, from 1815 to 1827, was 741,840 tons, or nearly equal to the
whole foreign tonnage of the United States in 1828 ! Again,§ the whole
tonnage of the United States with the British empire had, in 1828,
declined by 32,000 tons since 1815 ; whilst British tonnage employed
in the direct trade between the United States and Great Britain had, in
1828, increased 38 per cent !

Having stated these, and many other remarkable facts, which bear,
most forcibly, upon this subject, the Report proceeds to state, " that the
rise or decline of navigation is the index of national prosperity and
power — that the great object of a statesman, in a maritime nation, should
be to lay the foundations of a great naval power in a hardy and exten-
sive commercial marine ; and that to prepare for war, it is palpably
inconsistent for a maritime nation to attempt to accomplish that object
by a policy destructive of its commercial marine, the most efficient
instrument of war, whether offensive or defensive."

Sir Howard then proceeds to argue, and to shew that the proposed
doubling of the duties on the Canadian, and lowering those on Baltic
timber, would completely destroy the only scale by which it is pos-
sible to continue the trade, upon which not only so much of our ship-
ping depends for employment, but also our emigrant population for their
first chance of success. The poor emigrant begins his labour with the
axe ; and his greatest, his chief resource in earning money, wherewith
to buy what he wants, is in manufacturing shingles, or staves, or in fell-
ing timber. Let this measure pass— let the British North American
trade languish — let the inter-colonial trade with the West Indies be
unprotected, and the miseries and the distresses, which the emigrant may
have endured as a pauper at home, would be nothing to those to which he
would be consigned in the wilds to which he has been removed. We have

* Report on the Commerce and Navigation of the United States, by Mr. Cam-
breleng, p. 28.

f Report, p. 28.
$ Report, p. 27.
§ Report, p. 26.

414 Ships, Colonies, and Commerce.

begun this work. — It originated in a desire to relieve ourselves ; if it
turn out in a manner to reduce to misery, or in any way to injure the
interests of those to whom we have held out the assurances of removal
to a better condition — I (says Sir Howard) know not the name, for the
case has, happily, never yet occurred, by which to call such an act. —
But what care our political economists of the new school for such conse-
quences. " Let us maintain our principles" said the French Revolu-
tionists, " though all the world should perish I"

One strong reason urged for keeping fast hold of these Colonies is,
that they contain coal of the first quality, and in immense abundance ;
and no more need be said to satisfy persons who look beyond the mere
surface of things, that upon this account alone they are inestimable ;
that this precious ingredient of their value may be made to bring them
nearer to us, and cement them firmly with us ; and that to surrender
such a boon to a rival nation, for that must be the consequence of our
throwing them off, would be an act of political suicide ! !

After exposing some of the absurdities of the new school, Sir Howard
justly observes, " that foreign powers, without exception, seem to pre-
fer the example by which our power has been created, to the theories by
which we are told it may be increased ; but by which (we perfectly
agree with him) it is much more likely to be undermined and ruined.
The course of policy which made Britain a great maritime power, will
maintain her in her supremacy ; but, in proportion as she deviates
from that course -which made her great, she will become feeble."

With regard to the intercourse between British North America and
our West India Colonies, upon which so much of the prosperity of the
former is said to depend, we are sure the West Indians have no ungene-
rous or unsocial feelings on the subject. All that they desire is this,
that if they are forced, for the encouragement of the Canadas, to take
their staves, lumber, and provisions from these British possessions, at a
higher rate than that at which they can be obtained elsewhere, they are
entitled to some equivalent advantage to counterbalance this onerous
obligation. Mr. Bliss, the champion of these northern colonies, indicates
in a recent pamphlet,* that the West India Colonies " were never so abun-
dantly supplied as now, and that their supplies were never so cheap."
But we would submit that this is rather a disingenuous way of stating the
case. The question is not what price was formerly paid ? but what is
the lowest price at which the West Indians could now obtain their sup-
plies ? — And a reference to the prices in New York, Boston, &c., and
to the rates at which the planters in Cuba are supplied, will shew that
Canada is by no means the cheapest market. The duties, in favour of
our Canadian produce, levied in our Colonies " are paid," says Mr. Bliss,
" to the colonial treasuries, which must be supplied from some quarter."
It so happens, however, that to collect these duties and enforce these
t( free trade'' regulations, a crowd of custom-house officers were imposed
upon the colonists at necessarily, very high salaries ; and, in consequence,
nearly the whole of the duties collected go to pay their salaries !

The amount of these dutiest was in one year. . . ..£75,340.
And the expences of collection 68,025.

» Letter to Sir Henry Parnell, Bart., M.P., on the New Colonial Trade Bill?
1831, page 25.
t Papers submitted to the Board of Trade by Mr. Keith Douglas.

1831.] Ships, Colonies, and Commerce. 415

This is putting money into the colonial treasuries with a vengeance ! !
— With regard to another point of this important question, namely, the
best mode of obtaining a cheap supply of timber for home use. The
merchants, and others concerned in the trade, forcibly state in their
application to the legislature, that the interest of the consumer in this
country is directly concerned in the maintenance of the present state of
things. There is now an abundant supply of timber from two sources :
the consumer purchases that which suits him best, while the respective
prices of each serve to shew the rates at which they can be sustained in
the market relatively to each other — it being manifest that any circum-
stance which should, from whatever cause, enable the importer of either
description of timber to sell it cheaper than he now does, would lead to
an increased demand for that description, in preference to the other, on
the part of the consumer. There can be no pretence, on the part of the
consumer, for requiring any reduction in price — both kinds being abun-
dant and cheap. On the other hand, it is evident that, by cutting off
one source of supply — which must happen if the proposed measure be
passed — the consumer will, in a few years, find himself dependent on
the Baltic producer alone, and must deal with him under all the disad-
vantciges which that want of competition must produce.

Although ministers have been beaten on this point for the present,
there is no doubt they will again attempt similar measures; and it there-
fore becomes necessary that all the friends of " Ships, Colonies, and
Commerce," should be vigilant and ready to defend their own interests
from similar measures.

To turn to another quarter of the world, namely, Southern Africa.
The Cape of Good Hope may be considered, and in fact is, the only
possession of the British crown producing wine in any considerable
quantity. For our supplies of that article we were formerly entirely at
the mercy of foreign states. Had the late Emperor of the French been
able to complete his continental system, we should have been entirely
deprived of that invigorating and medicinal beverage : or, at least, we
could only occasionally have obtained a few pipes from Madeira, and
other small islands. In fact, at the period of exclusion alluded to, the
price of wine had risen in this country enormously, — but, to render us
less dependant upon the wine countries of Europe, government, on our
acquiring possession of the Cape, and for some years after that event,
held out by public proclamations and otherwise, the greatest encourage-
ment to enter upon the cultivation of the vine in that settlement, as " a con-
sideration above all others of the highest importance to its opulence and
character," and promised " the most constant support and patronage on the
part of the government, and that no means of assistance should be left
unattempted to improve the cultivation, and every encouragement given
to honest industry and adventure to establish the success of the Cape
commerce in this her great and native superiority." Premiums were
offered to those who planted most largely, and for the production of the
best wines ; and in 1813, Cape wines were admitted to the British mar-
ket at one third of the duty of port and sherry. This afforded a protec-
tion of about £28 the cask of 1 10 gallons. In consequence of this pledge
of support and encouragement, much capital was embarked in vineyards,,
&c. ; and although the cultivation and best mode of management, so as
to produce good wines, depends upon many peculiarities of soil and
niceties of adaptation, which can only be discovered by close attention

Ships, Colonies, and Commerce. £ApRiL,

and a comparison of the result of various successive vintages, and modes of
treatment, — the quantity produced rose from about 7,500 casks to nearly
20,000 casks, — of an improved quality,— in 1824, the capital embarked
by the cultivators and wine merchants in Cape Town, was computed to be
upwards of a million and a half sterling ! Having thus entrapped people
into a large investment, government in 1825 suddenly, and against the
earnest remonstrances of those interested, lowered the protective duty to
about £11 per pipe, to continue until 1830, and to £8 5s. after that
period. The consequence of this measure was the immediate ruin of
some of those largely engaged in the trade, and a necessary depreciation
of a capital which, once embarked, could not be withdrawn ! On the
pressing representation of these circumstances to Sir George Murray, and
Mr. Goulburn, who were then in office, they, by the Act of 10 Geo. IV.
ch. 43, agreed that until the 1st January, 1833, the duty should be con-
tinued at 2s. 5d. per gallon, affording the diminished protection of £11,
as above mentioned, — and that the reduction of protection to £8 5s. per
pipe, should not take place till after that period. Reposing on the faith
of this Act of Parliament and following the impulse which had been
previously given to vine cultivation, the settlers continued to extend in
a slight degree their establishments, and the property embarked is now
nearly two millions sterling. To their astonishment, however, the new
ministry, disregarding not only all former promises, but in the face of this
Act of Parliament, proposed to raise the duty on colonial wines from 2s.
5d. to 5s. 6d. per gallon, and to lower the duties on Foreign wines ! —
thus, by a double operation, to do away with all protection to Cape wine,
and consequently ruin the colony, and every one interested in this, its
staple commodity ! One circumstance connected with this proposal
appears to us to be worthy of remark, namely, that at the period when
government pledged themselves to support vine culture at the Cape,
Lord Goderich, (then the Hon. J. F. Robinson) was Vice President of
the Board of Trade ! In 1825, when the first breach of faith was com-
mitted, Lord Goderich (the Hon. J. F. Robinson) was Chancellor of the
Exchequer ! and now in 1831, when it has been proposed to depart
entirely from every former pledge, Lord Goderich is Colonial, or rather
Anti- Colonial Minister !!

With regard to the quality of Cape wine, we think the very unjust
prejudice against it is gradually decaying. We believe the genuine
average quality to be more wholesome than the ordinary qualities of port
and sherry, or such stuff as is usually sold under these denominations.
The consumers of Cape wine are a new class of wine drinkers, entirely
distinct from the consumers of the old established high-priced wines. The
additional duty proposed would deprive the present consumers of a cheap
and wholesome beverage, and force them to return to ardent spirits. It
would crush the trade altogether, and besides all the other mischiefs to
" ships, colonies and commerce," might cause a positive defalcation of
revenue — benefiting only the wine growers of Kings Louis Philippe,
Ferdinand, and Miguel. And although Lord Althorp has consented to
fix the duty at 2s. 9d., for the next two years, yet if at the end of that
period, all protection is withdrawn, it will be entirely destructive of the
property of the colonists ; and also of all faith in the wisdom and justice
of the mother country.

We would finally observe, that although the cases of the Cape of Good
Hope, and the British North American Colonies are somewhat dissimilar,

1831.] Ships, Colonies, and Commerce. 417

jthey are equally in point as regards the anti-colonial feeling, manifested
by at least a great part of his majesty's present ministers. These fre-
quent departures from former pledges, and the bad consequences which
always result from suddenly changing fixed channels of trade, retard
the prosperity of the mother country by paralizing the efforts of her
colonists, and deranging her commercial relations.

• With regard to the Canadas, we would observe, that the feeling enter-
tained of their value by the advocates of ultra free-trade in this country,
is somewhat different from that of our lynx-eyed rivals on the other side
of the Atlantic. t( It is very desirable," say they, '* that the people of the
United States and of the British provinces, . should become better ac-
quainted and be led to take a more lively interest in each other. Their
fathers were united by the bond of a common country ; and it needs
no spirit of prophecy to foresee, that the time must come, when, in the
natural course of events, the English colonies on our borders will be
peaceably dissevered from the remote mother country, and the whole
continent, from the Gulf of Mexico to the coast of Labrador, present
the unbroken outline of one compact empire of friendly confederated
States." Be it so ! but let us not by injustice accelerate that period.
Let us rather try to bind our colonies to each other by promoting, and
guarding a mutual intercourse and interchange of commodities, amongst
them ; and, above all, let us strengthen their attachment to the mother
country, by that good faith and sound political justice, which can alone
uphold our eminence as the first nation in the world for " SHIPS, COLO-
NIES AND COMMERCE/'

OXFORD ; A POEM. BY ROBERT MONTGOMERY.

. SUCH of our readers as are conversant with stage affairs, must often
have remarked the adroit manner in which nine out of every ten theatri-
cal campaigns are brought before the public notice. For weeks previous
to the commencement, the newspapers are filled with accounts of some
extraordinary star, who is to surpass all his contemporaries, and even to
throw into shade the recollection of his predecessors. In the fulness
of time this extraordinary star makes his appearance on the theatrical
horizon. Of course, nothing under a first-rate character suits his tower-
ing ambition ; so he steps forth, we will suppose, by way of illustration,
in Hamlet. On his entrance he is overwhelmed with applause; the
audience have made up their minds to be astonished ; expectation is on
tip-toe ; and after the usual clamorous testimonies of congratulation,
silence reigns throughout the house. And now comes the trial. In the
first one or two acts the new tragedian fails in every point. This, how-
ever, may be timidity. He is young, he is nervous, he is inexperienced,
or perhaps he is reserving himself for the closing scenes. So says the cha-
ritable audience. But, alas, the third — the fourth — and even the fifth act,
passes, and still no point, still no display of superior talents. The next
night, however, may be more auspicious for the young candidate's
renown. Accordingly, he makes bow the second, as Macbeth, and with
precisely the same success as before. For a week, or perhaps a fort-
night longer, he perseveres in his ambitious career, till the increasing
vacuity in the pit-benches, the significant absence of the usual box fre-
quenters, and, above all, the abrupt abridgment of the newspaper criticisms,
warn him that he has mistaken his forte, and that it is time to descend
M.M. New Scries.— VOL. XL No. 64. 3 H

418 Oxford; a Poem. [APRIL,

from his stilts. Henceforth his name ceases to blush in large red letters
on the play-bill ; instead of figuring alone in a line, he fills it up in con-
nection with the inglorious names of Thompson, Smith, or Hopkins ;
and, finally, drops drown from Macbeth to the Lord Mayor in " Richard ;"
and, from a high-flown tragedian, sinks at once into a very so-so melo-
dramatist.

Mr. Montgomery's poetical career presents an exact parallel to the
one we have just described. He started early in life, with a thousand
factitious advantages ; was brought before the public accompanied with
a thundering flourish of harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and cymbal.
He was a prodigy of youthful genius : was to revive in his own person
the golden days of poetry ; was to surpass Juvenal as a satirist, and Mil-
ton as an epic writer ; and when he died, was to be honoured with a tomb
in Westminster Abbey. Like the aspiring Thespian above alluded to,
the " Omnipresence of the Deity" was his Hamlet. Charity overlooked
the defects of this crude abortion, in the hope that it would be redeemed
by the next performance. While this expectation was yet rife among
the public, out came his Macbeth, " Satan/' Alas ! here again was a
failure, and one of so unequivocal a character, that it was manifest to
all who knew a hawk from a hand-saw, that the author's days, as a poet,
were numbered. He has taken too high a flight, said the critics ; so he has,
echoed the public, and must descend to his proper level. And accordingly
he has done so, and this with steps singularly and beautifully progressive.
From the Deity he has plunged headlong to the Devil — that is to say,
from heaven to hell ; and from hell he has degenerated in the rank of
intellectual power to Oxford. What his next performance — if he should
ever perform again, which we doubt — may be, it is not for us to antici-
pate. Probably from Oxford he may drop gently down to Bath, and from
Bath to Brentford, and end his poetic career by figuring as a small ver-
sifier in the pages of some monthly periodical. Thus, whether it be the
actor or the author, the one who descends from Hamlet to Harlequin, or
the other, who sinks from Heaven to Oxford, the result is the same —
the punishment of extreme presumption. It is not for Phaeton to drive
the horses of the sun. It is not for the melodramatist to affect the tra-
gedian. It is not for Mr. Montgomery to sport with the majesty of the
Godhead.

This is harsh language. Granted. But we fear it is but too well founded.
Of Mr. Montgomery's former works we say nothing : they have long
since passed to their great account; our business at present is with
" Oxford ;" and it is from this alone that we shall proceed to deduce the
fact of his incapacity. The poem professes to be a description — moral
—statistic — literary, and even geographical — of the celebrated foster-
parent of high Tories and Sir Robert Inglises. The subject is a tempt-
ing, at any rate a poetic one ; let us see, then, how it is treated.

" What makes the glory of a mighty land,
Her people famous, arid her hist'ry grand ?"

This couplet, than which no small-beer at a cheap seminary was ever
flatter or more vapid, opens the poem, and is followed by a dozen others
of the same calibre, in the course of which we are assured that intellect
is the only thing that can make a nation famous, and that, therefore, it
is to Oxford that England must owe her fame with posterity, and soar

" on wing sublime,
Above the reach of earth, and roar of time."

1831 .J Oxford ; a Poem. 419

The " reach of earth" we can comprehend ; but what the " roar of
time" means, we are wholly at a loss to conceive. Possibly Mr. Mont-
gomery, with that daring originality of personification which so emi-
nently distinguishes him, intends to imply that time is a wild beast, with
the lungs of a lion, and the roar of a Bengal tiger ; or, peradventure,
that he is like Bottom the weaver, who could "roar you like any
nightingale." If it do not imply something of this sort, the metaphor
has not the ghost of a meaning.

" If then from Intellect alone arise
The noblest worth a nation's heart can prize,
In towery dimness, gothic, vast, and grand,
Behold her palaces of learning stand."

The consecutive reasoning of this passage is curious. If the noblest
worth of a nation arises from intellect, then it follows, as a matter of
course, that her palaces of learning are to stand in towery dimness !
What monstrous trash ! The poet goes on to inform us — and the infor-
mation is strikingly important — that it was evening when he first saw
the spires of Oxford, and that he was much struck with the spectacle.
We quote his own words : —

" When day was dying into sunset glow,
I first beheld them in their beauteous show,
The massy glory of each joyous pile,
And thought— how noble is our native isle !"

Indeed ! What profound philosophic reflection ! How worthy the
intellect of the biographer of " Satan!" After refusing, in the most decided
manner, " to take a kingdom for the tear he sheds," in recollection of
deceased Oxonians, Mr. Montgomery puts an abrupt end to his medi-
tations as follows :

" From ancient lore see modern learning rise —

The last we honour, but the first we prize"

This is clearly a distinction without a difference — a spirited, uncompro-
mising sacrifice of sense to sound. Why modern learning should be
honoured, and ancient lore only prized, it surpasses our limited under-
standing to discover. Possibly, our poet's friend and critic, Mr. Clark-
son, can help us to a solution of the difficulty —

" Another charge let Alma Mater own
By frequent sages on her wisdom thrown ; —
Alike one standard for the great and small
Her laws decree, by which she judges all ;
Hence in one mould must oft confound at once
The daring thinker with the plodding dunce ;
The soaring Mind must sink into a plan,
Forget her wings, and crawl where Dulness can ;
Those bolder traits, original and bright,
Fade into dimness when they lose the light
Of open, free, and self-created day,
Where all the tints of character can play ;
While creeping plodders, who have never bred
One single fancy to refresh the head,
But toiled contented o'er a menial ground
Where Commonplace pursues her petty round,
With smirking valor meet their judgment day,
When talent melts in nervous gloom away."
3 H 2

420 Oxford; a Poem. [ APRIL,

The foregoing passage is an eminent instance of that confusion of ideas
—of that wish to appear profound, where he is simply absurd, in
which the modern Milton excels. Pray what is the meaning, literal
or metaphorical, of a " soaring mind sinking into a plan," or of " talent
melting into nervous gloom away ?" Who ever heard of gloom being
nervous ? Did you, Mr. Montgomery ? Did you, Mr. Clarkson ? We
should rather 'think not. — To resume: Brutus, it seems, was the
founder of Oxford —

" Then pause awhile, and reverently view,

Though dimly faded, and of ancient hue,

The records hinting through oblivion's eld,

When Oxford first her founded Halls beheld,

From age to age how college piles appeared,

Till, lo ! a University was reared.

Ere yet the music of Messiah's name

Had thrilled the world, heroic Brutus came

With Grecian sages and a kindred band,

To fix their dwelling in our Eden land ;

And Greeklade was the destined home they chose,

Where mind could revel, and the heart repose ;

Till, lured away by some far lovelier scene,

Where rivers wandered, and the woods hung green,

By groves untrodden, whose Athenian shade

For silence and monastic dreams were made,

A city rose beside the haunt adored,

Where Memprick built what Vortiger restored.

Thus early did renowned Oxford shine,

Grow dear to sages, and become divine."

From this it would appear that Oxford had " become divine" before
the advent of our Saviour ; that Brutus was its first Vice-chancellor,
that, in fact, it was " renowned" as a university before the introduction
of Christianity into England ! Of course, under such circumstances, it
must have been a pagan establishment ; and, indeed, in its devout wor-r
ship of Bacchus, it still clings partially to its old heathen predilections.
Mr. Montgomery's assertion, therefore,' is not wholly without proof.
Following up this very original topic, in the course of which we are
informed that

" Truth is darkness in the depth of time,"

that is to say, that black is white, our gifted minstrel tells us, with
suitable solemnity of phrase, that, in due time, —

" Simpler dwellings, out of convents sprung,
Or mansions hired, received her studious young ;
And each, as added numbers swelled their fame,
Was duly governed, and — a Hall became."

But this is not the sole intelligence we receive on this point. Imme-
diately the Halls were erected, —

'' unforgotten Bede,
With sages, whom historic lovers read,
First soared aloft on elevated mind,
To see the heaven that hovered on mankind."

We can see no earthly reason why Bede, and the other sages, should
have soared aloft, in order to see heaven. Surely it was visible enough
from terra Jirma — unless/indeed, the weather was cloudy, and the season

1831.] Oxford; a Poem. 421

November ! From Bede, the transition to George the Fourth, is, it
must be confessed, somewhat startling. In the hands of genius, how-
ever, even absurdity is reconcileable with reason, and, accordingly, we
are indulged with the following : —

" But thou, fair Oxford, never didst thou seem

Begirt with glory in so grand a dream,

As when monarchial heroes graced thy town,

With him, the princely hope of England's crown : —

A morn of June ! and, magically gay,

A heaven of blueness to o'erarch the day,

Whose smiles are mirror' d by that glorious street,

Where, proudly decked, uncounted numbers meet

Of plumed bands, whose warrior trappings shine,

And hooded gownsmen, in majestic line —

But, lo ! he comes ! a prince before them stands,

Hark ! to the rapture of re-echoing hands,

And high-toned cheers that revel round his way,

While each eye beams a patriotic ray ;

With head uncovered, royally he smiles,

And every heart that noble face beguiles !

'Tis noon — 'tis night — a day of grandeur spent

In all that makes a day magnificent, —

Art, pomp, and beauty, graced by king and queen,

With dazzling banquet to outdare the scene !"

We are much smitten with the bold idea of " high-toned cheers revel-
ling round a prince's way." We wrould give worlds to have seen and
heard them. They would have delighted our auricular not less than our
optical organs. Equally tickled are we with the notion of a " dazzling
banquet outdaring a scene." What an impudent ovation ! We now
come to a touch of sublimity, descriptive of a thunder-storm at Oxford,
while that city is undergoing the process of an illumination in honour
of the -royal visit ; immediately after which the scene shifts, and we
are indulged with a critical dissertation on the merits of Addison and
Steele — the latter of whom, it seems,

( ' Laughed at Dulness till her follies died ;"

a palpable mistake — inasmuch as they are still alive and flourishing in
the works of Robert Montgomery. From the days of Steele we are
brought down to those of Dr. Johnson, whose mien and manners are com-
pared to the

" bark around some royal tree,

Whose branches glorying in the heaven we see."

Why, in what manner, or to what extent, Dr. Johnson's mind resembled
the bark of a tree, with branches glorying in 'the heavens, we cannot for
the life of us make out. We are also at a loss to understand the mean-
ing of this couplet, applied to the same individual : —

" And mixed with darkness irritably loud,
That came like thunder from the social cloud."

Did any gent, ever hear — can any gent, contrive to understand, what is
meant by the thunder of a social cloud ? To us the image is more
enigmatical than the riddle of the Sphynx. — After Johnson comes Sid-
ney—

" Marcellus of his land,
Whom poets loved, and queens admitted grand."

422 Oxford; a Poem.

And after Sidney, a description of an Oxford wine-party —

" But who can languish through a hideous hour
When heart is dead, and only wine hath power ?
That brainless meeting of congenial fools,
Whose brightest wisdom is to hate the Schools.,
Discuss a tandem, or describe a race,
And damn the Proctor with a solemn face,
Swear nonsense wit, and intellect a sin,
Loll o'er the wine, and asininely grin ! —
Hard is the doom when awkward chance decoys
A moment's homage to their brutal joys.
What fogs of dulness fill the heated room,
Bedimmed with smoke, and poisoned with perfume,
Where now and then some rattling soul awakes
In oaths of thunder, till the chamber shakes !
Then Midnight comes, intoxicating maid !
What heroes snore, beneath the table laid !
But, still reserved to upright posture true,
Behold ! how stately are the sterling few :•—
Soon o'er their sodden nature wine prevails,
Decanters triumph, and the drunkard fails :
As weary tapers at some wondrous rout,
Their strength departed, winkingly go out,
Each spirit flickers till its light is o'er,
And all is darkness that was drunk before !"

There is much startling imagery in this passage. First, we have fogs
of dulness filling a room ; secondly, chambers shaking with oaths of
thunder ; thirdly, midnight getting tipsey ; fourthly, decanters triumph-
ing over drunkards ; and, lastly, drunkenness resolving itself, by a very
natural process, into darkness. From this extraordinary symposium, our
minstrel hurries us off to Mr. Canning, and weepeth to think that

" in thy fame's triumphant bloom,
The shades of death hung grimly o'er thy doom."

He is, however, promptly consoled by tbe recollection that he heard
the deceased stateman's knell

(( moan,
Like the grand echo of a nation's groan."

Also by the fact that he never

" winged the dart
Whose poison fed upon thy feeling heart ;" —

an assertion which we are very ready to take for granted. Having wept
sufficiently for the death of Mr. Canning, Mr. Montgomery bethinks
himself of Chatham,

" Who baffled France, America, and Gaul !"

Until now, we always thought that France and Gaul were one and
the same country; that Gaul was the ancient appellation of France.
Mr. Montgomery, however, is of opinion that they are two different
kingdoms; a proof that he has studied the classics, and particularly
Caesar, to but little purpose. — Chatham being dismissed, we are intro-
duced, in succession, to " romantic Bowles ;" t( radiant Southey," who
dislikes the " roar of town ;" Professor Wilson ; and last, not least, to the
poet himself— the veritable Robert Montgomery ! with a pathetic, auto-

1831.] Oxford ; a Poem. 423

biographical sketch of whom, mixed up with sundry allusions to the
virtues of the late Bishop Heber, the First Part concludes.

Part the Second opens with an apostrophe to England, in whose
name there is

" A swell of glory, and a sound of fame ;" —

and one of whose natives — who or what the gent, may be, we are not
informed — is described as sending his son to Oxford, with " many a
bosomed fear/' which city the young man reaches at sunset, after tra-
velling a considerable distance :—

" The distance won, — behold ! at evening hour
Thine eye's first wonder fixed on Maudlin tower,
Then gothic glories, as they swell to view
In steepled vastness, dark with ages' hue ;
And on thine ear when first the morn-bells wake,
As o'er the wind their jangled echoes shake,
Delighted fancy will illume thy brow,
To feel thyself in ancient Oxford now 1"

We do not exactly know what reason there is for the young man to fancy
himself in Oxford, if he really is there. The " morn-bells" and the
"jangled echoes" shaking over the winds, are, we should conceive,
quite proof positive enough to convince him of his locality. Immedi-
ately on his arrival, this fanciful young man enters on college life, which

" Begins at morn, and mingles with the day."

He then walks in wonder

" through the town,
In the first flutter of a virgin gown !
From cap and robe what awkward shyness steals,
How wild a truth the dazzled Novice feels !
Restless the eye, his voice a nervous sound,
While laughing echoes are alive around ;
Each look he faces seems on him to leer,
And fancied giggles are for ever near !"

Allow us here to ask, Mr. Montgomery, what you mean by shyness
stealing from a cap and robe ? The phrase really looks suspicious ; as if
the articles had reason to be ashamed of their wearer! What, too, is the
meaning of the " dazzled Novice feeling a wild truth," because his virgin
gown flutters, and his cap and robe look shy ? We must confess we are
in the dark on both these points. As for his being quizzed, that
we can understand, though we do not think the word " giggle" quite
so dignified or poetic as it might be. Despite the " giggles/' however,
it gives us pleasure to be able to state that the Novice musters courage
enough to walk stoutly down High-street,

" Arrayed with palaces on either side ;"

—-a description, by the way, which applies to Waterloo-place, Pall-Mall,
or Regent- street, with quite as much propriety as to High-street. On
his road the Novice stops a moment,

" To take a freeze of horror from the schools ;"

probably from some awkward reminiscences connected with the birch and
cane ; after which, he stops opposite the Clarendon,

424 Oxford; a Poem. \_ APRIL,

" Superbly new, which mental arts pervade,
And glowing pages."

Having satisfied his curiosity, the Novice goes home to moralize ; in
the course of which operation, we discover that he is no less a personage
than Mr. Robert Montgomery ! Yes, it is the poet himself, and no other,
whose virgin gown flutters — whose robe and cap look shy- — whose pedes-
trian progress through Oxford is enlivened by fancied giggles — and who,
during his meditations,

" Rides on wings, while others walk the ground !"

To heighten the public interest in his favour, our young poet — alias the
Novice — contrasts himself with — .

" The booby offspring of a booby sire ;"
and earnestly requests Heaven to save him from those
" Human nothings, made of strut and swell,"

who think no university is worthy of them. — Having closed his descrip-
tion of the " booby," Mr. Montgomery proceeds to the " reprobate,"
'who, it seems, is

" A fool by night, and more than fop by day" —

a nice distinction, which none but the gifted few can comprehend. But
this reprobate, is not only a fool, and more than a fop — he is also

" A withered skeleton of sin and shame ;"

by which our young poet would seem to imply that all reprobates
are <e withered skeletons." This point however we doubt, inasmuch
as the greatest reprobate we ever knew, was a remarkably fat man, and
was so far from being " withered," that he was actually as plump as a
partridge. We now enter upon a description of the Radciiffe Library,
which is called, " a dark-domed grandeur," and which somewhat
abruptly terminates in an apostrophe to midnight :

" The day is earth, but holy night is heaven !"

the reason of which is, that night is gifted with " a solitude of soul," and
,that Mr. Montgomery is very much attached to it. After midnight
. comes an account of a boat-race on the Isis, whose barks " fly glorying
in oary swiftness/' whence the scene shifts with pantomimic incongruity to
an invocation to " Life, Fame, and Glory," and then turns back again to
an apostrophe to the " midnight heavens," which, much to our gratifica-
tion, brings us to the close of the poem.

On reconsidering what we have here written, we find that we have
barely done justice to "Oxford." A more absurd tissue of bombast —
bad grammar — maudlin cant — brazen conceit — inconsecutive reasoning —
and downright nonsense than this poem contains usque ad nauseam, we
'. never yet met with. As for " Oxford," it is no more characteristic of
that University, than of London, Dublin, or Edinburgh. The author
might call it Cambridge, with quite as much propriety. Still less does it
breathe any of that classic spirit which might naturally be anticipated
from its title. The Christmas bell-man would write equally well on the
subject, and with a thousand times more simplicity. Mr. Montgomery

183].] Oxford ; a Poem. . 425

evidently considers poetry as an effort of memory, not of feeling or inven-
tion ; as a thing of sound, not of sense. If he can only tickle the ear he
is satisfied ; for the intellect he scorns to cater. The majority of his best
thoughts are borrowed : the worst are decidedly his own. To Words-
worth he is indebted for the only good idea in his book. The lines—

" Life still is young, but not the world, to me :

For where the freshness I was wont to see ?

A bloom hath vanished from the face of things" —

is an impudent, unacknowledged plagiarism from the great Lake poet's
analysis of his Own matured feelings.

" What though the glory which was once so bright,

Be now for ever vanished from my sight ;

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of freshness in the flower," &c.

The sole secret of Mr. Montgomery's popularity lies in the extensive
puffing he has enjoyed. He has been styled by those who should have
known better, a Juvenal — a Milton — a Byron, and has even been made
the subject of astrological speculation. Lest the reader should doubt
this assertion, we quote the following from a book published in 1828,,
(just about the time the "Omnipresence of the Deity" appeared) and
entitled, A Manual of Astrology: — " THE NATIVITY OF A MODERN
SATIRICAL POET." — ' The author of The Age Reviewed/ a Satire.
KM. — born July 16th, 1807, 8 h. 30m. A.M. Mean Solar Time,
51°. 27'. N. The recent production of this 'modern Juvenalist/ hav-
ing excited much curiosity in the literary world, is the author's chief
reason for inserting his horoscope. The student will readily perceive
the close zodiacal A of the ]) with $ and the planet $ arising in t% in
parellel to 5 , as the cause of his being a poet ; but the desire for the
extraordinary, which his satirical talent evinces, is solely produced by
the almost perfect semiquartile of the ]> and J#, which never fails to give
originality of genius, as we have previously observed in a former part of
the work. We predict that l the author of The Age Reviewed/ is des-
tined to great celebrity in the twenty -.second year of his life, probably by
some eminent exertion of his poetical genius !"

Notwithstanding this disgusting — this unprecedented puffing, the
works of Robert Montgomery are rapidly declining to their proper
station in literature. The flood is abating; the swollen rivulet is
shrinking back into its natural puny dimensions. Though an Eng-
lish public is at times apt to be led away by what is shewy and allur-
ing, it seldom fails in the long-run to find out its mistake and amend its
judgment. Besides, it is the nature of genius — no matter what be its
advantages, or what its obstacles — to rise or fall to its level. Had
Mr. Montgomery evinced the slightest promise in the way of thought,
sentiment, or style, we should have hesitated ere we expressed a decided
opinion. But, alas ! he is a thing of shreds and patches. He has been
to a feast of poetry, where he sat below the salt, and carried away all
the scraps. Pope and Campbell he has pillaged largely, nor have the
daintiest bits of Wordsworth escaped him. The consequence of this is,
that his poems are mere incongruous rhapsodies. There is no keeping
in them — no harmony — no nice adjustment of parts — no completeness as
a whole. Moonlight — thunder-storms — sunsets — and pastoral land-

M.M. New Scries. VOL. XL— No. 64. 3 I

42(> Oxford ; a Poem. [APRIL,

sr-apes — these form the staple of his fancy, and on these he rings the
changes till the reader is sick to death with the repetition. Of sound
reflection he has not an atom. His thoughts lie for ever on the surface ;
yet he fancies they are wondrously sublime ! Like the Cockney, who,
jogging up Primrose-hill, thinks he is ascending a mountain, so Mr.
.Montgomery, while lounging along the tame flat level of mediocrity,
imagines he is scaling Parnassus. Instead of composing, he contents
himself with tinkering a poem, and styles that invention which is merely
an effort of mechanism. In a word, he is in rhyme precisely what his
admirer Mr. Clarkson is in criticism. One is the Mavius of verse ; the
other, the Bavius of prose. The reader who relishes the former, will
not fail to be equally pleased with the latter. — Qui Bavium non odit,
amet tua carmina, Mavi !

ST. JOHN LONG ON CONSUMPTION.

• As it is a part of the duty which we owe to our readers, to take note
of the passing circumstances affecting science, persons and the public, we
may give a few pages to the second edition of St. John Long's book. It
commences with a letter of Lord Ingestre to a Mr. Wilding, demanding
proofs and statements which seem to have decided his lordship's adhe-
rence to the system, and then proceeds to lay down the grounds on which
the writer expects both the success of his practice and the hostility of the
profession.

^ " Two sources of hostility I anticipate — the novelty of my system, and the
simplicity of my practice. The latter objection 1 may almost dismiss without
refutation, for it is superfluous to prove that the most simple means generally
produce the most desired effects, while ignorance and empiricism usually
entrench themselves in intricacy and mystery."

Whether thepractice of the medical profession, in its present alternations
of failure and success is to be classed among the benefits of society, may be
a matter of rational doubt, but its capability of assuming the rank of a
benefit cannot be problematical. It would be to arraign the attributes
of Providence to deny, that for every evil there is a corresponding
remedy, though it may be left for man to explore it.

From this the introductory matter launches into a variety of obser-
vations, which are undeniable enough ; and apply to all attempts at dis-
covery. There is no question that medicine is chiefly a conjectural
svstem, too irregular and too obscure to deserve the name of science, in
any strict sense of the word ; and though we may not go the length of
the phrase attributed to Sir A. Carlisle, that " medicine is an art formed
in conjecture and improved by inurder," yet it is perfectly clear that in
medicine we have not yet emerged from the lf dark ages." We have
some simple remedies for some simple disorders, which however gene-
rally cure themselves. But for the severer disorders, those which arise
from the self-indulgent habits of life, engendered not more by the
opulence, late dinners, and indolent luxuries, than by . the anxieties, and
alternations of fortune in our " high pressure" state of society, medicine
at present offers scarcely any remedy ; its best power amounts only to
palliatives. Who ever hears of the cure of a chronic ? The gout, the palsy,
the calculus, with a whole host of other disorders, seem absolutely to
defy medicine ; and all that the doctor can do in the multitude of cases, is

1831.] St. John Long on Consumption. 427

to stand by and note the progress of the malady. He perhaps can sooth
the torture from time to time ; but here his power ends, he becomes
little more than a looker on, and unless he adopts the not unusual expe-
dient of dismissing the sufferer to Lisbon, Madeira or Montpelier, to
die by other hands and out of sight, his last visit is paid to a death-bed.
There can be no doubt that all this implies either a singular state of
barbarism in medical knowledge, or an extraordinary barrier raised in
this particular branch of human attainment against its perfection.

Yet we cannot give way to this supposition. The admirable advances of
man in all other pursuits, the dexterity with which new inventions
supply the intervals left by old ignorance in the comforts and con-
veniences of life, evidently impress the idea that Providence permits no
evil without an adequate relief, which however it leaves to be discovered
by our own industry, and whose search is the finest excitement to that
industry, as its discovery is the finest reward. In medicine, it is remark-
able that though we have two or three specifics for the cure of two or three
disorders, yet we have no curative system for any one disorder. To
this hour we have no decided and principled plan for the healing of any
one of the greater distempers. There are a hundred plans for the cure
of mania, with as many fathers for those plans, each contending that his
own is the only one rational; yet, who sees mania cured by medicine ?
Ten thousand cases of consumption are at this moment under the hands
of English physicians, and of those, we will unhesitatingly say, that not
ten are treated in the same manner; and that probably not one, where the
disorder has been suffered to proceed for awhile, will recover. In this
state of things there must be some singular neglect of the ordinary pro-
cesses of nature, some inveterate adherence to erroneous practice, or
some innate difficulty ; which latter, however, we will not admit, until we
see better proof that it is the rule of nature to interpose insurmountable
difficulties between man, and objects of the highest import to human
happiness, and general benevolence. Nothing can be more undeniable
than that the medical student is still distracted with theories rising
and falling every day. What is now become of the systems that for
their time were pronounced infallible ? Who would now attempt to
cure a fever on the rules of Boerhave, Brown or Cullen ? What has
become of the sedative school, the stimulating, and the hundred other
schools, that, for their day, declared themselves the final discoverers of
the art of health ? What is become of the vegetable school, the mineral
school, the curers of all diseases under the sun, with antimony, with
opium, with calomel, and a heap of other panaceas, equally promising,
and equally failing ? Or what is the annual volume of the Pharmacopoeia,
but an annual libel on the pretensions of the year before; an acknow-
ledgement of the blunders, superfluities, and hazards of remedies,
which but twelvemonths past were in the most favourite practice of the
most favourite physicians ? But now anew sera is begun ; and after hav-
ing relinquished the fields and the mine; after having rejected the
vegetable hope of Hygeia, and left arsenic and antimony to*their fate, we
turn to the laboratory, and following the steps of the French chemists,
extract from the furnace an elixir vitae, and draw the breath of our
nostrils from the crucible. But the age of Iodine will pass away, with
all the amalgamations and precipitates of the chemist ; and then we
shall have to rely on some new discovery, equally shewy, useless, and
perishable.

3 I 2

428 St. John Long on Consumption. [APRIL,

As to the individual who now puts forward his claims to relieve the
community of some of the melancholy and hitherto desperate afflictions
of the human frame, we leave the reader to such evidence as his
book supplies. We agree with the judge's charge on his late trial, that
failure in a particular instance, being incidental to even the most authen-
ticated practitioners, is no ground for general distrust ; and that the
whole question must turn, in this matter as in similar ones, upon the
general result of the practice.

" The faculty," says the Introduction, " admit that there are diseases beyond
their power to cure, that there are maladies the fatal termination of which
they may retard, but cannot arrest. In cases of pulmonary consumption, and
of various other disorders, they have no established remedies. Even as to
palliatives, how very few of their number agree. Their opinions are alike
discordant, whether they relate to the origin of the disease, or the means of
arresting its progress; and in nine instances out of ten they are compelled to
acknowledge the utter inefficacy and hopelessness of their prescriptions. They
stand in the presence of their dying patients more like ministers of religion
than professors of medical science, administering consolation to the mind rather
than anodynes to the body. But while they thus admit their inability to cure
those maladies, they nevertheless shut the door against all discoveries made
beyond their own arena, and denounce as empiricism even the success which
demonstrates the folly of their tenacious adherence to exploded rules. They
are not content with seeing their patients languish under their hands, they con-
tend for the exclusive right of attending their last moments. Beyond their
pale they would have the world believe there is no talent, no acquaintance
with the disorders incident to humanity, and consequently no remedy for the
diseases which they pronounce immedicable."

Talking calmly on this subject, a great part of what is here said of the
exclusive system of the English physicians is true. Their degrees and
forms restrict them within a certain boundary, and the greater number
of our established medical men are content to follow the track marked
out for them by the ordinances of the College : while of twenty cases of
disease, and even of the same disease, there may not be two which allow
of the same treatment. Almost the whole cf the remarkable remedies
have undoubtedly been discovered out of this pale. And allowing, as
we readily do, the advantage of having a body of educated men prepared
to avail themselves of those remarkable discoveries, the whole of which,
without exception we believe, have been owing to accident, yet it is
perfectly clear that discovery is much less their object than a formal
adherence to practice. However, those times and things must have an
end ; and without a direct determination on the part of the regular pro-
fessors to reject all advantageous inventions, nothing can be more
notorious than that the science of medicine, if science it must be called,
has made no advances in our time at all correspondent to the general
progress in other branches of knowledge. It is equally notorious that
consumption is a disease which almost throws the regular practitioner
into despair. He feels that nothing must be done which has not been
done before ; and he feels, also, that the whole amount of what has been
done before was to make the patient's path a little smoother, arid a little
slower to the grave. As to the secret by which, in the present day, con-
sumption, and its kindred ills, is asserted to be cured, no man can pro-
nounce anything until it is divulged. But there is at least something
in the announcement that consumption is not the desperate disease
which the faculty have universally declared it to be ; that distemper in

1831.] St. John Long on Consumption. 429

the lungs is not beyond the power of medicine ; and that a patient seized
with the symptoms of this perilous and pitiable affliction is not neces-
sarily to be looked on as under sentence of death. The subject, divested
of all the extraneous colouring which has been given to it by exaggerated
feelings, by professional hostility on the one side, which may have been
excited by the natural alarm at any striking novelty, and by the enthu-
siasm of partizanship on the other, which may have not less been stirred
up by the evidence of that professional hostility, ought now to be made
matter of calm investigation. Men of benevolence, and men of science,
are equally interested in ascertaining the claims of any offered discovery
in the art of healing. We have been persuaded, by a general view of
the course of nature, that for every disease there is an intended
effectual cure, if we had the skill to investigate it. And it is not
either the singularity of the secret, nor the mysterious manner in which
a new discovery may be announced, that should prevent a man of real
science from examining how far it merits public attention. For theory
on this subject, as upon others, where all the value must be practical,
we can have no consideration. The only point in question is, has a prac-
tice been productive of good, has a deadly disease been disarmed, has
mankind one enemy the less to contend with, or even has that enemy
been diminished in its power ?

The following certificates of the nature of the lotion have been circu-
lated :—

We, the undersigned, having been patients of Mr. St. John Long, and
having- had his lotion applied to us,, do declare, that no blisters were ever
raised upon us by it, and that we never heard of its producing them upon any
of his patients. That the irritation created by his lotion, heals again under
its daily application. That we have used the same to our faces and hands, and
that it will produce a discharge on diseased parts, while it takes not the
slightest effect on any other. Many of us have also held it in our mouth, and
swallowed it with impunity. We have farther to add, that we never knew
an instance of mortification taking place under its use, and believe it almost
impossible that such an effect could be produced by Mr. Long's lotion. —
(Signed)

M. Ash worth. George Lings. Ellen Gregory.

Jane Rooke. M. Swindin. S. Sotheby.

S. H. Oughton. HarrietFrances Roxburgh Geo. Manley, (for his in-

Jane Macdougall. Francis Roxburgh. fant daughter).

Rosetta Prendergast. Thomas Fussell. Ingestre.

Jane Campbell. Nathaniel Higgs. Sally Otley.

Jane Fortye. Wm. Abington. J. Spottiswoode.

Maria Grindlay. Louis Verellini. M. G. Prendergast.

William Conw'ay. M. Macdonald.

March 2Uh, 1831.

This is to certify that the irritation produced by Mr. Long's application or
lotion, created a discharge upon the diseased parts, whilst the same applied
to the sound portions had not the slightest effect whatever, and that the
irritation healed again by the daily employment of the same remedy, and that
I never knew an instance of mortification arise from its adoption, or any dan-
gerous effect whatever. (Signed) JOHN BRAITHWAITE.
New Road.

[ 430 ] [APRIL,

ALL FOOLS* DAY.

Fool ! fool ! fool I— Othello.

On ! ye ancients, 1 maintain

'Tis a pity you had birth,

For you've left us not a grain

Of pure wisdom upon earth !

Its seeds have all perished in the schools !

I pronounce the LL.D.'s,

F.R.S.'s and K.G.'s,

And the unreformed M.P.'s

April fools !

What are Wellingtons that shine
In predictions of a storm ?
AVhat are Wynlbrds when they whine
O'er the Chancery reform ?
What are Ellenboroughs amiable as mules ?
What are Crokers when they speak,
Or contribute a critique,
Just a column, once a week?

April fools !

All ye Wetherells that sigh
O'er the constitution's bier,
And lament that it should die
About twenty times a year,
Though jocose as a comedy of Poole's ;
When you see how boroughs rot,
And yet cannot find a blot
In the system— are you not
April fools ?

Oh ! Freeman ties, ye who shine
In inventing honest grounds
Why a king should not decline
Five-and-twenty thousand pounds —
Who would force him to adhere to the rules ;
And ye Twisses — though they cheer —
Oh ! what are you, when you sneer
At the people whom you fear ?
April fools !

And ye pensioners, that owe
To the rabble ye despise,
All that lifts ye from the low,
What will you be, when your eyes
Look in vain for your sinecures and stools ?
Or you, ye titled dames,
When you cannot find your names
On the list of secret claims ?
April fools !

But far more stupid still
Are those who tell the House
That the mammoth, called the Bill,
Will be vanquished by a mouse !
Shall ministers believe and be their tools ?
Shall Grey become afraid,
Or Russell retrograde ?
Then the people have been made
April fools !

1831.] • ' [ 431 ]

NOTES OF THE MONTH ON AFFAIRS IN GENERAL.

Nothing can be a more awkward circumstance, nor a more common
one, than for public men in power to be expected to perform the promises
which they made before they were in that desirable situation. The
army are beginning to cry out, and the navy are not backward ; they
are not great penmen, but they can make a noise notwithstanding, and
their anger, if not very classical, is perfectly intelligible. The Age
thus disburthens the soul of a veteran remonstrant on the subject of the
Baring dynasty : —

" Where, let me ask, is there a more flagrant case than that of a Captain
of the 1st regiment of Life Guards? This gallant son of Mars never saw
a shot fired in his life, except at a pigeon match, at the Red House, at
Battersea; nor was he ever out of the smoke of London. He first entered
the army as an ensign, in November, 1824 ; was made a lieutenant in 1826;
promoted to a troop in the Life Guards, in September, 1829; and had a
brevet majority given to him in November, 1830 — 'just six years in the ser-
vice/ Is this acting fairly towards the army ? I am myself a captain, of
seventeen years' standing, and twenty-seven years in the service; and that
this stripling should be put over my head, as it were, in six years, is some-
what galling.""

Those Barings are lucky dogs, it must be owned, and thrive in all
directions. But the Captain may rely on it, that whatever may be the
glory of a brevet in the Blues, the true card is to be on the muster-roll
of the Greys. Seven and twenty years in the service, and only a cap-
tain after all, may seem hard measure enough, ; and £211. per annum,
is certainly no very luxurious provision for a gentleman verging on fifty,
as we may suppose a captain of seventeen years' standing. And yet there
are a crowd of lieutenants who would think themselves the most fortu-
nate fellows alive if they could but get what the captain has been enjoy-
ing for seventeen years ; crowds of brave fellows, who have seen
service against every enemy, hazarded their lives in every field, and
burned up their livers in every climate where an English soldier has
trod, and this too for twenty years, and are lieutenants still, and likely
long to be, and to enjoy the munificence of this richest of all countries
at the prodigal rate of about seven shillings a day. Let the captain
think of those things and rest in peace, and growl no more at majors of
six years' generation.

The Pension List is thrown into the background for the time; but if
the Bill pass, Mr. Guest pledges himself that the House, and the world
too, shall hear more of it ; meanwhile little intimations of the approach-
ing sweep come out, to the boundless indignation of the pensioners, fair
and unfair, in the following style : —

" Mr. T. P. Courtenay, M.P. for Totnes, is in the receipt of £1,600. per
annum — viz. £oOO. as agent for the Cape of Good Hope ; and a pension of
£1,000. per annum, granted him in 1825. The following two items, likewise,
appear on the Civil List, thus: — ( T. P. Courtenay, in trust for Elizabeth,
Frances, and Catherine Courtenay, pensions on the Civil List, September, 1806,
£1,000. ;' and ( Ann Courtenay, pension on Civil List, 1827, £300.' The mem-
ber is returned by the corporation influence, being only fifty-eight freemen."

This is said to be official, and if so, we can only congratulate the
Courtenays upon those public merits which, doubtless, have secured to

Notes of the Month on [APRIL,

them so pleasing a recompense. One thousand pounds a year for the
pin-money of three fair ladies since 1806! or four and twenty thousand
pounds sterling, bestowed, we must presume, on the score of public
merit on the Courtenays. Well may they rejoice in our power to pay
the interest of the national debt. But as if the merits of this distinguished
family were not yet sufficiently rewarded, we have another £300. per
annum assigned to another of their family circle ; and, as we must take
it for granted that this additional personage was not in existence at the
time of the original grant, or she would have enjoyed the same reward,
having naturally the same claims ; we may look to the discharge of the
public gratitude in the shape of this £300. a year for the next half cen-
tury, or whole century.

Our politicians are puzzled to conceive how it happens that Ireland,
constantly craving, and constantly receiving as she is from England, is
never the richer ; constantly conciliated, is never the nearer quiet ; and
constantly packing off its people to Canada, and all the world besides, is
never without matter enough for orations on yearly famine. Let this
statement solve the problem :•—

" The Irish Bar and the Union. — The Dublin Mail states, that the number
of practising barristers, ascertained from the library books, \sfour hundred and
twelve. Of those, three hundred and thirty have signed the Anti-Repeal Decla-
ration. The number of king's counsel, including the attorney and solicitor
generals, and the sergeants, is forty-seven — of those, thirty-eight have affixed
their names."

Four hundred and twelve practising barristers ! Four hundred and
twelve keen hunters after human prey let loose upon one luckless land !
Four hundred and twelve death-dealers to the peace and the pocket of
mankind, raving through the country, and not merely seeking whom
they may devour, but giving fangs and talons to every minor devourer.
What a host of scriveners, black as their own ink ; of special pleaders,
sallow as their own parchment ; and of attorneys, fierce as their own
fieri faciases, must follow at the heels of those stuff and silk-gowned
devourers ; the small proportion of ten for every barrister would give
four thousand, to whom litigation is dear as the light that visits their
grim eyes, the bread they eat, the condition of their existence ; and can
we wonder that Pharaoh's lean kine were the Devonshire ox compared
to lean Ireland ?

It is to be expected that the West India Interests, the most neglected,
where they are not the most insulted, of all national interests, will find
a firm friend in his Majesty. We have always thought it a strong feature
in favour of the conduct of the settlers and owners in our Colonies,
that they have uniformly obtained the most favourable opinion from the
military and naval officers stationed in the islands. And the nature of
their antagonists is scarcely less in their favour. For who have been the agi*
tutors on the subject, but half-mad missionaries, three-fourths of them with-
out any pretence to education ; or cunning rogues of traders, who wished
to extinguish commerce in the West, that they might drive some petty
traffic in the East ; or a junto of sectarians at home, who attempted to
gain public strength by clinging together in public, and to whom the
West India Question served as the most convenient link.

His Majesty must to his feelings on this topic, arising from his general

1831.] Affairs in General. 433

anxiety for the welfare of the national possessions, add those of his
original profession., in the course of which he visited the West Indies.
For our part, we totally disbelieve the monstrous stories of cruelty which
the Saintly Association have told for the wonder of the European world.
The travellers and merchants, the gallant soldier and sailor, who pass
their months or years in the midst of the slave population, return to us
without any pathetic histories of the satanism of the planters. Hun-
dreds of such men return every year, and no men are more ready
to speak their minds upon all topics, yet upon this, their only mode of
speaking is generally to express their indignation at the flagrant impos-
tures which the itinerant preachers of sedition, under the disguise of
methodism, or of methodism in the language of sedition, import annually,
in time for their annual declarations at the meetings held in every corner
of London. The House of Assembly in Jamaica presented by their agent,
Mr. Burge, an address, at one of the late levees, to his Majesty, a rational,
manly, and loyal document, and which was most graciously received.

" To the King's Most Excellent Majesty.
" The humble Address of the Assembly of Jamaica.

" We, your Majesty's dutiful and loyal subjects, the Assembly of Jamaica,
actuated by correspondent feelings with those universally expressed by your
Majesty's other subjects, embrace the earliest opportunity of condoling with
your Majesty on the great loss which has been sustained in the demise of our
late most gracious Sovereign, your Majesty's Royal Brother. — We beg to offer,
from principles of duty and affectionate attachment to your royal person, our
sincere and cordial congratulations on your Majesty's accession to the throne of
your ancestors ; and we devoutly hope that, together with your august consort,
your Majesty may be long spared to diffuse over your extensive dominions
those blessings which promote domestic happiness, while they secure national
prosperity. — From your Majesty's personal knowledge of the West India
Islands, and their importance to the mother country, we, your Majesty's
Assembly of Jamaica, rely with the most implicit confidence on your goodness
for that protection which your devoted and suffering subjects in this portion of
your empire at present so much require ; and that your Majesty will be the
guardian of those rights which were guaranteed to this island by your royal
predecessors. — That your Majesty may long reign in the hearts and affections
of your people, is the ardent prayer of your Majesty's loyal and dutiful sub-
jects, The Assembly of Jamaica.

" Passed the Assembly this 29th day of November, 1830.

" RICHARD BARRETT, Speaker."

The English are a nation of naturalists, and there is more money
annually spent in girls' schools on botany, zoology, conchology, and all
the other ologies, than would provide half the pretty students with a hus-
band a-piece. And yet there are hundreds of the most curious things
under our eyes, of which no rational account has ever been given.
Among the rest, WHITE-BAIT, dear as it is to the souls of aldermen ; the
prime attraction of life from May to September to the host of travellers
down the domains of Father Thames ; the sole reason to the citizen for
knowing that Greenwich exists, until that citizen, in an ambitious hour,
turns hero, and comes back to lay his wooden leg and his laurels in the
porticoes of the hospital ; white-bait, to this hour, has baffled all the
knowledge of the knowing in matters offish. Sir Joseph Banks tried to
fathom the mystery, and tried in vain, at the head of a scientific com-
mittee of twenty-one, who, after dining a fortnight at the Ship and the
Crown alternately, could decide upon nothing but that they had the

M.M. New Serie*.— VOL. XI. No. 04. 3 K

434 Notes of the Month on [APRIL,

appearance of fish, and possessed, in a very considerable degree, the
piscatory qualities of friability, eatability, butterability, and digesta-
bility ; that their contexture admitted advantageously of an affusion of
lemon-juice, cayenne-pepper, and chilies ; and that, though several
deaths had occurred in consequence of too free an use of them in plethoric
habits, they seemed not to be poisonous, or otherwise deleterious per se,
in quantities less than five pounds at a time. Science had here gone as
far as it could ; for neither a Sir Joseph Banks, nor even a Duke of
Sussex, can do all things ; and Sir Joseph's remarkable confession, on
the failure of his experiment to boil fleas into the analogous species —
" Fleas are not lobsters, d — mn their souls !" — is only one of the many
instances in which the greatness of the difficulty has overcome the great-
ness of mind. For the last half century, the question has been left
among the " Curiosa/' as one of the opprobria of science which no pru-
dent philosopher would approach. Diversity of opinions still reigned
upon the subject ; some conceiving the white-bait to be the fry of a spe-
cies of whale, which came up at night, when the watchmen were asleep,
to deposit its young, and then stole off to sea before daylight ; others,
salmon in their infancy ; but the majority, a species sui generis — a gift of
nature to the especial river of London, for the luxury of its especial
people — and, in fact, for the especial honour and emolument of Green-
wich ; the tradition being that no art of man could transport them in an
eatable state above London-bridge — a tradition, however, which has been
within the last year, and the last year only, triumphantly refuted by the
landlords of the Albion and the Freemasons' taverns. But Science is inde-
fatigable ; and we have to record from its ' ( Quarterly Journal/' the bold
attempt of one of its cultivators to bring the white-bait not only dead,
but alive, before the eyes of the people of London : —

" A Mr. Yarrell has made several attempts to preserve white-bait alive, of
which the following are the results : — Several dozens of strong1 lively fish, four
inches in length, were transferred with great care from the nets into large
vessels (some of the vessels, to vary the experiment, being of earthenware,
and others of wood and metal) filled with water taken from the Thames at
the time of catching the fish. At the expiration of twenty minutes nearly
the whole of them were dead ; none survived longer than half an hour, and
all fell to the bottom of the water. On examination, the air-bladders were
found to be empty and collapsed. There was no cause of death apparent.
About four dozen specimens were then placed in a coffin-shaped box, pierced
with holes, which was towed slowly up the river after the fishing-boat. This
attempt also failed: all the fish were dead when the vessel had reached
Greenwich. Mr. Yarrell was told by two white-bait fishermen, that they
had several times placed these fishes in the wells of their boat, but they
invariably died when brought up the river. The fishermen believe a portion
of sea- water to be absolutely necessary to the existence of the species ; and all
the circumstances attending this particular fishery appear to prove their opi-
nion to be correct."

The arrival of the Lord Advocate in town has revived the panegyric
written upon him by that most pleasant of parsons, Sydney Smith. But,
by giving only the first verse, the merit of both parties is cruelly muti-
lated. We present the world with the entire : —

On, .seeing Mr. Jeffrey riding on a Jackass.

Wittier than Horatius Flaccus,
Far more eloquent than Gracchus,

1831.] Affairs in General. 435

Rounder in the waist than Bacchus,
Rides little Jeffrey on a jackass.

Let the Tories now attack us;
Tooth and nail let Wetherell sack us ;
Let indignant Sadler thwack us —
Here's little Jeffrey on his jackass.

Loss of place and pence may rack us,
Not a soul on earth to back us ;
To the devil the king may pack us —
Welcome Jeffrey, Whig, and jackass !

Now and then coincidences start up, that seem the oddest, and yet the
most natural things in the world : —

" The mace carried before the officer of the Royal Society, at the queen's
drawing-room, was presented to that body by King Charles the Second,
having previously belonged to the House of Commons summarily dissolved
by Oliver Cromwell.

The relic of an extinguished Parliament — the fall of a dynasty — an illus-
trious reformer — and the year 1831 ! We leave the subject to poetry,
and the prediction to time.

The news from Ireland is invaluable to all the lovers of conciliation,
liberalism, and the power of sending papists to the " Grand Council of
the nation/'' The papist bill has issued in a demand for the separation
of the countries. The panacea of peace has been followed instantly by
the spreading of midnight murders and robberies, and the outcry of the
country gentlemen for placing the counties under martial law ; and the
new policy, which was to produce plenty in every cabin, is answered by
the immediate prospect of a famine : —

" In the barony of Costello, county of Mayo, distress still continues without
any prospect of mitigation. It appears that while several families are at the
present moment quite destitute of food, many hundreds, with a view of econo-
mizing their scanty store, are dragging on a wretched existence on one meal
in twenty-four hours, and that the entire stock of potatoes in the whole dis-
trict will be consumed early in May."

This is tolerably well for one proof. Another list states that 40,000
people, in a single corner of the most popish of the provinces, where all
was loyalty, liberty, and rejoicing, at " being freemen once more, and
not Helots, bondsmen, slaves/7 and so forth, are now actually begging
from door to door. Another promises that, before a month is over, for
every thousand starving now there will be a hundred thousand. Subscrip-
tions have been attempted to be raised. In Ireland they always fail ; for
the Irish know each other, and know that the money of charity is sucked
into the pocket of the priest, or the orator of rebellion. In England, large
sums of money were raised scarcely more than two years since, which
conciliated the peasantry neither then nor now. We should like to know
how Ireland is to be either fed, or conciliated.

Exclusive studies are sometimes unfortunate things. Who could
doubt that Spencer Perceval had been for the last forty years reading
John Bunyan ? —

" He would illustrate his view of the question by a reference to the structure
of the human eye. He would suppose two medical men — one, whom he

3 K2

Notes of the Month on f APRIL,

should call Mr. Newlight, educated at the London University ; and the other,
Mr. Bigot, educated at Cambridge — conversing on the subject of a gentleman's
eye. ' Oh ! Mr. Bigot/ says Newlight, ' what a bad condition that gentle-
man's eye is in ! He has an anomaly in his eye.' — ' I really don't understand,'
observes the other, ' what you mean by an anomaly.' — ( Why, don't you see
that all the objects, at the back of his eye, are turned upside down. That is
an anomaly — and out his eye must come.' They all knew very well that
objects were thus represented, topsy-turvy, on the "back of the eye, and that
circumstance was explained by the laws of refraction ; but no person had yet
been able to assign a satisfactory reason why, when we use our eyes, every
object appears in its natural and proper place. Mr. Newlight would, however,
take out the eye, because he could not account for the phenomenon ; and, in
the same manner, the enemies of boroughs would annihilate them, because
they were ignorant of the system of which they formed a part."

Why will the City of London — which must comprehend some sensible
and manly men — always suffer itself to be represented by a set of fellows
who have, in all their previous lives, represented nothing on earth but a
yard of ribbon, or a pig of iron ? The leading merchants, we are told,
are too proud for the office. The more fools they ; and they will find the
benefit of this ridiculous pride in being embarked in the same boat with
boobies, and stigmatized with the same thickness of skull. There will
soon be an opening for them to shew their sense of this degradation : —

" The discussion of the Reform Question has set parties by the ears in the
City ; and it is very generally rumoured that one of the representatives, Mr.
Ward, will retire, in consequence of the decided hostility which was mani-
fested towards him at the Common Hall on Monday, when he declined sup-
porting the Petition of the Livery in favour of the measure. Sir Peter Laurie
has been invited to come forward as a candidate on the first vacancy, with
the strongest assurances of support, by a most influential party ; and it is
equally certain that the invitation will be accepted."

Nobody can doubt anything of the kind, and he would make a much
better representative than the mob of his predecessors. But why should
the City be abandoned to the aldermen ? The men who live east of
Temple Bar may be considered to be human beings at least ; they have
voices, read newspapers, and talk politics, like those living in the more
favoured regions which commence on the west side of that venerable and
odious line of demarcation. Why should not some man of sense, though he
never stood behind a counter, think it worth his while at least to make
the trial of whether they could understand him ? We are satisfied that
even a denizen of Cornhill would not think the worse of a candidate for
being a gentleman by birth and education, even though he should not be
quite au fait at the manipulation of a pair of curling-irons, or at deve-
loping the mysteries of a bale of cotton. Let some such try. We long
to see the Aldermanic breed routed for ever.

While we are sick to death with the nonsense of " Political Economy"
— that science of the ignorant — that problem of the puzzled and pertina-
cious— that discovery of the dull — that eloquence of those who forget that
a man may be prosed to death — of sages who rise from the desk or the ditch
to instruct mankind — who turn money into metaphysics, in the hope, we
presume, of turning metaphysics into money — and who, being supremely
in the dark upon all points of human knowledge, avow themselves the
general illuminators of commerce, politics, and national power; — why

J831.] Affairs in General 437

does not some true philosopher assist the multitude in their progress to
the true principles of acquiring individual ease of circumstances ? A
single practical maxim for the conduct of the individual, in his way to
wealth, would be worth all the sweeping fooleries that take mankind in
the mass, and settle our destinies by a million at a time. He would find
some very striking and curious documents on this most important subject
in the reports of the Society for bettering (barbarism as the word is; the
Condition of the Poor ; or let him ask how the accumulation of the
savings-banks has occurred : —

" According- to a Parliamentary return just printed, the gross amount of
sums received on account of savings-banks is, since their establishment in
1817, £20,760,228; amount of sums'paid, £5,648,338; thebalance therefore is,
£15,111,890. It also states the gross amount of interest paid and credited to
savings-banks by the commissioners for the reduction of the national debt is
£5,141,410 8s. 7 d.

This is astonishing ; and we should vainly demand credence for it on less
authority than the parliamentary document. Here is a sum of twenty
millions gathered, in shillings and pence, from the humblest ranks, in
about a dozen years ; or upwards of a million and a half a year, saved
out of the superfluity of the labouring people and lower order of shop-
keepers ? The loftiest theory of political economy — all the free-trade
flourishes, and figuranti exhibitions of unrestrained" imports and exports,
could not have accumulated a tenth of the money in the time — if, indeed,
they had not rather plunged the nation into bankruptcy. The secret, in
this instance, was practical economy ; individual abstinence from those
gross excesses which make the fortunes of the dram- distiller and the ale-
brewer ; virtue and decency, which are at once the cheapest and the
surest ways to wealth. The nonsense that private vices may be public
benefits, has been long exploded. But the success of the savings-banks;
offers an irresistible proof that the true source of the national wealth
is the national practice of integrity, manly self-denial, and quiet virtue.

There are still some curious rumours flying as to the state of the late
king's financial matters. That for the last dozen years he had saved
vast sums of money seems to be conceded on all hands ; and that for the
last half dozen he spent nothing in comparison of his income, seems to
be equally ascertained. What has become of the money is the question.
The story of the pearls demanded from the royal favourite, and the sap-
phire sent from hand to hand of the magnificent personages implicated,
is well-enough known already. The papers tell us that —

" George the Fourth's tradesmen's bills are to undergo a strict scrutiny by
a Select Committee. The amount of some of them is almost incredible. There
are various extraordinary rumours afloat, and some official persons are in a
very uneasy situation."

If all that is said upon the subject be proved, we should like to see those
official persons put into a much more uneasy situation.

If those rumours are untrue, why not bring the business to the test?
Let the . report of the Committee be public, and then justice and the
people together will be satisfied, but not till then. Nothing can be more
absurd than to say that the nation have not a right to inquire into the
mode in which the money which it gives to its public functionaries is
expended. If it can be shewn that the enormous sums given by the

438 Notes of the Month on [APRIL,

nation yearly for the support of the royal establishment are expended
for that purpose, well and good. But if the money have taken another
direction, we have every right to inquire why it should have been
alienated from the course which is equally conducive to the king's state
and the national honour. No subject can be fitter for public exami-
nation.

The taste for hanging one's self appears to make progress, and within
the last three months the cord has superseded all the other favourite and
fashionable ways of getting out of the world ; — the few exceptions
which have occurred lying chiefly among the ladies' waiting-maids, who
have adopted the ennui with the cast-off petticoats of their mistresses ;
the sempstresses, who have grown romantic on the contents of the cir-
culating library ; and the boarding-school young ladies, who, after hav-
ing undergone their four years' courses of the piano, Italian, French,
quadrilling, and acrostics in the Annuals, think it cruel that such accom-
plishments must revert to the paternal cheesemonger's counter, or be
lost to fame, dead, and buried in a back parlour in Billiter-lane — A
class who generally prefer opium or arsenic ; and who in all instances,
strange as it may appear, contrive to procure both with the most perfect
facility, notwithstanding the precautions of the venders. We by no
means speak of those matters in jest, for nothing can call more directly
for the interference of authority, than the frequent instances of crime in
both parties, in the scandalous readiness of the chemist to give the
poison for its paltry gain, and the fatal readiness of the infatuated pur-
chasers to use it. But there are obvious means enough of terrifying those
whom death cannot terrify ; and we are perfectly satisfied that if the
law should declare that the bodies of all suicides were to be given up
to Surgeons' Hall for dissection ; and the juries on inquests should be
strongly impressed with the public injury and personal crime of giving
false verdicts, and bringing in, " died of insanity/' while it was as clear
as day that the cause was passion and perverseness, we should not hear
of one suicide for every fifty we now hear of. If we are to be told that
the feelings of families and friends would be hurt by this consignment
of the suicide's body, we answer truly, that it would be the interest
of all families and friends to have the terrors of suicide as striking as
possible, for the obvious reason, that the more formidable they are, the
more likely are the moping and melancholy among their children or
friends to be preserved in life. Let the law sanction any measure which
will make the sense and certainty of shame stronger than the fear of
death, and there will be no more suicides. It is a well-known fact of
Roman history, that at a period when, from some affectation of Greek
heroism, or other similar folly, many women of rank put an end to their
existence, the crime was instantly stopped by a law declaring that in
future all suicides should be exposed to the public eye in the Forum.
From that moment no lady was heroic, self-murder ceased to be fashion-
able; and in all probability there was not a single exposure in the
Forum.

The frequency of this crime has been the proverbial scandal of Eng-
land, though it occurs to a much more considerable extent in France
and in Germany. But wherever it occurs with such frequency, it has the
direct consequence of hardening the popular heart. In Paris, the
Morgue, or place where the unowned suicides, the chief part of whom

1831.] Affairs in General. 439

are drowned in the Seine, are carried to be recognized by their families,
is a regular morning's lounge, and the morning seldom comes when it
does not contain three or four bodies. An instance, mentioned the other
day, in our own country, if correctly stated, illustrates the easy non-
chalance to which custom may bring people on those occasions : —

" Nobody s Business. — A fellow hung himself at a tavern at Leeds last week.
About half-past seven in the morning, one of the servants went to call him, and
on opening the door, discovered that he was not in bed. She alarmed the
ostler, who found the man suspended from a staple in the wall. He then
called some other members of the family, and went about his usual business.
The landlord came into the room, and having (as he said) satisfied himself
that the man was quite dead, left the body suspended, and went out to get
shaved ! desiring some of his neighbours to go in and look at the deceased. A
butcher, living next door, accordingly went in — and having satisfied his curi-
osity, came out again ! An hour was lost in this way between the discovery
of the body and its being cut down between nine and ten o'clock. A surgeon
was then sent for, but life was perfectly extinct."

A month ago we professed our humble belief that the British Govern-
ment had made a compromise with O'Connell. Mr. Stanley made an
angry speech, declaring that such an act of absurdity, time-serving, and
timidity, was impossible. But his oratory did not shake our faith. We
asked fairly enough — was it not rather a singular thing to see a con-
victed criminal walking about the world, laughing at his accusers,
arraigning his judges, and haranguing about the Repeal of the Union,
more daringly than ever? We asked whether any of those who had
been convicted in England of exciting public disturbance had ever been
suffered to flourish about the highways and byeways with such happy
ease, and throw the verdict in the teeth of Government, much less to
come over to parliament, make speeches there, and do all kinds of gay
and graceful things as free as birds on a bough ?

Mr, O'Connell has now taken advantage of his lucky position, to make a
speech in favour of the ministerial measure par excellence. He has, in fact,
made, beyond all comparison, the best speech on the side, for the minis-
ters, and we may as well presume for himself too. But Mr. Stanley has
" pledged himself/' and all that, " to have the arch demagogue brought
up for judgment." We shall see !

It might be conceived that nothing was easier than to know whether
a little Princess of ten years old can or cannot walk, or to ascertain
whether she is well or ill. And yet many noble, and some illustrious
characters are at issue upon these points. One paper asserts, by autho-
rity, that there is not a more promising little heir-presumptive to any
throne in Christendom, and gives an extract of her mother's letter,
saying, that she is robust, healthy, and handsome, full of spirits, &c.
Another says the direct contrary, and gives an extract from a pamph-
let by the late Sir Richard Croft, to substantiate the probability of the
statement : —

" There is the young Princess Victoria, whom I am in the daily habit of
seeing; what with her trowsers, her ribbons, her boots, her feathers, and her
attendants, the child is as absolutely unable to stir, as was Sancho Panza,
when he lay armed and prostrate, in the breach !—-It is grievous to see her, in
her confined apparel. She has not half the natural activity of a child at her
years. She may well be diminutive ; yet the Duke of Kent was a fine man,
and the Duchess is far from short."

440 Notes of the Month on [] APRIL,

(We had thought that the late Sir R. Croft was dead before the Prin-
cess Victoria was born.) Another paper positively says, "that the
child was wheeled into the room at the late drawing-room in a chair, and
that she could not walk at all." What are we to believe. Another
charges the propagation of this report on individuals in high places, and
declares that its propagation has had a sinister purpose. But, after all,
what could be an easier refutation of the report than suffering this little
girl to do like other little girls, and use her legs in the streets. Why is
she not seen walking about like a human being, and not eternally
cooped up in a chamber at home, with a coterie of stiff governesses or
pitiful attendants, who, if they inculcate any lesson on the young mind,
must makfe her believe that she is something more than mortal. If she
stirs out it is only in a coach, cramped up all over, while the infinitely
more fortunate, and, as time will soon shew, the infinitely better edu-
cated for all the rational purposes of life, are enjoying the free use of
their existence, taking healthful exercise, and learning the lesson, which
royalty should in such times think it well worth its while to learn, that
the people of England are not altogether the dust of royal feet. This sys-
tem of haughty exclusiveness may do well enough for Germany ; though
its day is pretty nearly over even there. In England it is odious ; and
while it will have the inevitable result of spoiling whatever understand-
ing the child may have, it may give her habits very awkwardly unfit for
the emergencies through which the highest will probably have, before
many years are over, to struggle. All this foolery is German. And
how is it likely to end there ? Hitherto "there was not a little duke of
half a dozen miles of empire, who did not consider himself as paying a
compliment to mankind in allowing that he was of the same species.
Where will such Serene Highnesses be in half a dozen years ?

A whole mob of our fashionable tourist- women are now on the continent
hawking their daughters to every market. In this sublime pursuit may
they all succeed ; we heartily wish that every man-hunting mamma may
get for her man-hunting daughter a marquis, and that the marquis may be,
what such cavaliers generally are, a swindler without a sixpence, with-
out a character, and with another wife, or another half dozen. But the
grand object is gained, the charming young worshipper of whiskers and
soirees is entitled Madame la Marquise de Vaurien, or the Baroness
Von Tondertentronck. The happy mother exults in being the Madame
Mere of the swindler and his belle Anglaise ; and in six months the
Marchioness is returned upon her hands, with " les trois chemises sur le
dos," in plain English, stripped of purse, wardrobe, and whatever else
she brought with her, and is a Marchioness, Heaven save the mark ! for
life.

However all goes on in the same way, and the mammas load every steam-
packet with their accomplished cargoes.'* The last advices from Naples,
that land of the sun, the carissima of the earth, whose lava and laza-
roni are inexhaustible in their enchantments; breathe of nothing but
rapture : as if the smoke of revolution were not rushing down upon the
land of harlotry from the north ; and the political ground heaving under
the court more formidably than ever heaved the earthquake. One of
the letters says : —

" We have had a tolerable Carnival. The masked balls at St. Carlo are
magnificent, so far as outward appearances go ; but there is a woful lack of
wit among the masqueraders. A ' Devil/ or ' Punch/ will squeeze through a

1831.] Affairs in General. 441

crowd, at the risk of suffocation — ' pour vous dine,' ' bon soir,' or ' vous souhaiter
la bonne nuit' — such is usually the utmost one can expect from any Neapolitan.
Occasionally some foreigner or two distinguish themselves from the multitude
by keeping up some humdrum character or other, but it is all bad. The King
walked about in a black domino, accompanied by one courtier only. He did
Lady B. the honour of addressing her at least six times during the evening ;
his remarks were common-place, but extremely polite and condescending.
He was amiable with all the English ladies, with whom he has the character
of being very shy ! Every body knew the Domino, as there was constantly a
sentinel within a yard of him, apparently by chance."

The Spaniards are rising again. The last news from the south give
us strong reason for fearing that Ferdinand the Beloved will be sent to
embroider petticoats again for the Virgin. She has owed him something
for his former needlework, and we hope that her celestial presence will
take advantage of the coming opportunity, and for every additional spe-
cimen of his skill give him a new step in canonization. If Cadiz is in
possession of the insurgents, we should not promise this ridiculous king
a six months' lease of his throne. Not that there can be any serious
aversion felt for the man himself, who seems to be of the very calibre
for a petticoat-maker ; but for the abuses of his government, for the sys-
tems of peculation, suspicion, and public misery, which makes the cities
of Spain dungeons, and the villages of Spain dens of thieves. From all
the accounts of travellers, there is more safety in travelling in Arabia
than on a Spanish high-road. If this go on, we shall see Madrid as
inaccessible as Timbuctoo, and Africa teaching manners to the Dons.
Yet what is the source of the phenomenon ? In one word, monkery. —
" The Curse of a Country. — Who can wonder at the degraded state of
Popish Spain, though blest with a climate the most genial, and a soil the most
productive, when he considers the multitude of sacred drones that infest it ?
In Spain it is calculated that there are no less than two hundred thousand
monks of one description or other, whose only labour in the vineyard is
gathering the grapes. Another Peninsular war will thin their ranks marvel*
lously."

No ministry ever had a harder card to play than the Grey Cabinet,
for they have protested and promised about retrenchment until they
have compelled the people to believe them, and now they must go
through with it. The first point which will be battled with them is the
" retiring pensions" to the Bankrupt Commissioners. On this " The
Legal Observer/' a useful and ably-conducted work, observes : —

" We have just obtained a copy of the new bill for the administration of
Bankruptcy. A compensation clause is inserted, as we expected. It provides,
that no commissioner holding ' any other public place or situation/ shall be
entitled to it ; but that all other commissioners who have held office for ten
years shall have £200 per annum ; and those who have held office for a less
period, £150 per annum. It is said that this compensation is not a necessary
part of the proposed change, and if it be strongly opposed, it will not be
pressed."

A contemporary observes : —

" — If it be strongly opposed ? And can there be any doubt about the matter?
Are our ears to be deafened with an outcry against the existing pensions on
the civil list, and are new pensions to be created for the lists of Bankrupt
Commissioners ? They are functionaries who have effected their own anni-
hilation by the odium which their practices have disseminated, and is the
country to be insulted by a proposal to give them compensation ?"
M.M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. 64, 3 L

442 Notes of the Month on [ APRIL,

If the nation have any sense, they will in this instance, and in all others,
put an end to the " retiring pension" system. The origin of this system
was a job. When a new man came into the ministry, with a parcel of
dependants, who must be provided for, there was nothing to be done but
to turn out some of the dependents of some former man. But perhaps he
was still a minister, and would offer some objection. In that case, the
pleasantest expedient imaginable for all parties, was to suffer the former
holders of place to accept a " retiring pension ;" in other words, a sum
equal, or as near as public decency would allow, to their whole salary
for doing nothing. All parties, of course, were satisfied. This iniquity,
we say, must be put an end to. Another principle of peculation is, that
a public servant, after a certain number of years of attendance, is entitled
to receive his superannuation allowance, equal to his full salary. But
on what reason is this extraordinary principle founded ? On the rea-
son, that because the public gives a man the enjoyment of one or two
thousand pounds a-year for twenty years, for doing what thousands
could be found to do for a fraction of the money ; this actually esta-
blishes a claim to be paid as many more thousands a-year without the
pretence of doing any thing. We can perfectly see the propriety of
half-pay to the soldier or sailor, who has worn out his health or lost his
limbs in the service, or who is ready to return to it on the first call. But
it is completely incomprehensible to us how any public man can, with-
out blushing as deep as his own red ink, support the proposition that,
because some hanger-on of place has been paid for twenty years twenty
times as much as his labour or his life was worth, he should therefore
be fastened on the public bounty until his worthless life was at an end.
As to the Bankrupt Commissioners, if they are cast out by an universal
outcry, we cannot discover why they should be better off than any other
cashiered officers. Let them go; though if they have deserved punishment,
we cannot see why the offence to justice of letting them go free should be
permitted. But let us not, in the name of common-sense, reward a par-
cel of fellows who have been rewarding themselves very handsomely for
many a long year ; and whose dismissal is demanded by the nation on
the express ground that their office is a public burthen.

We are glad to see that the Bill for carrying up the street from Water-
loo-bridge to Long-acre is brought into the House ; and that the work,
and Arnold's new theatre, are to be commenced together. The street
may be a great ornament to London, and the theatre, we are sure, when
it is under the direction of so ingenious and tasteful an architect as
Beazley, will be a great ornament to the street.

In the City some improvements are taking place. The projected City
Arcade, from Bartholomew-lane to London-wall, is likely to be carried
into effect, notwithstanding the well-known indisposition of monied men
towards joint-stock concerns. However, an Arcade in London, which
one may walk through every day, is unquestionably a more tangible
investment than a treasure-fishery at the bottom of the sea. The prose-
cution of public works at home will afford employment to a number of
industrious individuals ; and patriots may serve their country better by
promoting such an object, than by haranguing about the stuff that gene-
rally fills the brains of soi-disant patriots. A street is better than a speech
at any time.

1831. J Affair* in General. 443

We are vastly at a loss to perceive the allusion in the following receipt
for angling : —

" How to catch a Gudgeon. — While your gudgeon is engaged, taking leave
of the rest of your family, retire quietly into another room, where he is sure to
pass. (By all me-'ns take care that you don't sit in a dark corner— on the
contrary, select, if possible, a window opposite the door). Leave the door
just so far open, and no more, that any one passing it cannot fail to observe
you. As soon as you hear his foot in the passage, begin your blubbering and
caterwauling. No real gudgeon can resist this. Before he has been well three
miles on his journey, he will be seen returning, with distended jaws, to swallow
— the white bait !"

Yet what is the Bath System, the Brighton, the Harrowgate, the
Cheltenham, or any of those spots where the fair do congregate to ensure
the grand object of life, a husband; but variety of gudgeoning? Isaak
Walton himself was never half so accurate in his flies, so delicate in
his discrimination of lucky and unlucky moments, so adroit in the cast
of his line, nor so active in dropping into his basket the finny prey, of
which he writes with such tender enthusiasm, as the multitude of
" female fishers of men," who haunt the shady corners of those favoured
places, and angle from dewy morn to dusky eve. The new feature of
the science is, that the whole practice is now in the hands of the ladies.
Time was when the fishery was in the hands of the pantalooned sex ;
when an Irish buck came as regularly on his campaign to Bath, and
danced away with an heiress, as the Bath ball-room opened its doors.
The French marquis, all essences and cotillons, made an occasional
catch among the daughters of rich old West Indians, fools enough to
send their half-castes to learn the languages in the city of Bladucl, and
the London man, of Bond-street, adjourned from the clubs to make
up his losses among the jointured. But all this has past away with the
dreams of the past. The ladies now have the trade in their own corporation,
and where it is their will to bring the spoil to their net, we defy any
duke in England to be sure of his fate an hour.

One of the most direct and singular results of the late French Revo*
lution has been the ruin of bankers. The aristocracy of paper, which
seemed to have been concocting into a haughty shape in every capital of
Europe, and which was presenting its cashiers to be made barons, dukes,
and in good time, kings too, has suffered some heavy blows ; and we
may now live in faithful expectation that the throne will not be seized upon
for some years more, by any of those gentlemen who have been in the
habit of making their per centage on the discount of bills or the transfer
of stock. The shock in France is formidable. All the counters have felt an
earthquake, and all the grandees of the five per cents are selling off their
estates, their dozen barouches a-piece, and throwing up their Opera
boxes. Another leading house has fallen a few days ago. The minor
ones are, we may presume, in no very enviable condition, and the
shopkeepers are turning royalists as fast as they can. We are not quite
so fond of dealing in revolutions here, but, if report say true, some of
the potentates, even here, who deal in foreign stock and politics, are
likely enough to indulge us with the march of a gambler's history.

On the vote being moved for the expences of the British Museum,
Sir John Wrottesley observed on the public inconvenience sustained by

3 L 2

444 Notet of the Month on £ APRIL,

closing the reading-room on Saturdays. He was perfectly right ; there
are many persons who from their situation in public offices, and similar
establishments, cannot go to the reading-room, except on Saturdays.
Besides, why should one day in every week be lost to the student, or fifty
week-days out of the three hundred in the year ? Yet this is not all.
The reading-room has a long vacation, as if it were a court for attorneys
and clients, with three or four little vacations, the whole amounting to
nearly three months in the twelve. Why should this be ? Nothing can
be less laborious than the duty of attendance. It merely requires half-
a-dozen porters to take down the books and hand them to the readers,
and a librarian to sit in a snug carpeted room, and by a good fire,
reading, scribbling, or asleep, as it may happen to please him. The
library is for national use, and it is extremely useful, and even essential
to inquiries into almost every subject of literature. Yet for nearly three
months every year, it is as much lost to the public as if it never existed.
The officers are not to blame : they of course are glad to have as many
holidays as they can. There is no possible reason why the reading-room
should not be open every day in the year, except Sundays, Good Friday,
Christmas Day, and perhaps one or two other solemn days of the
church. Nor is there any reason for a vacation at all. The librarians
might easily succeed each other, and keep the library open without any
kind of unsuitable restraint on their own comforts or leisure. But
whatever may be their inconvenience they are paid amply for their duty,
and the public must not be inconvenienced, which it now is, in a very
serious degree.

The newspapers will not let Horace Twiss die in peace. His unlucky
speech on " the lower orders and the small attorneys/' has roused a nest
of hornets about this learned gentleman's proceedings, which might
irritate a more pacific philosopher. They have attacked him for going
to the Chancellor's levee, and made the insidious excuse of his doing it
under suspicion of friendship : —

"The presence of the Duke of Wellington and Mr. Horace Twiss at the
Lord Chancellor's levee, last Saturday evening, has excited much observation
during the week in the circle of politicians. The honourable member for
Newport, although he has manifested much bitterness against the Chancellor
for the share he is supposed to have in an important measure, now pending, is
still his lordship's quondam friend."

Others have charged him with looking to some of the good things
which are to replace the Bankrupt Commissions, it being an understood
affair, that no change of this kind is ever to occur, without leaving a
succedaneum, to the full as costly, and a little more comfortable for the
new claimants. One of the papers presumes that he and the duke have
determined to make common cause with the whigs, and discover that
they have been in the wrong in their politics, and particularly in their loss
of place.

Of these circumstances the aggrieved party has taken notice in a regu-
lar speech : —

" On Mr. Hodges presenting some reform petitions, — Mr. Horace Twiss rose
to contradict the reports that had gone abroad, that he had spoken disparagingly
of the middle classes, to which he considered himself to belong. He said, ' of
the middle classes I never spoke at all — the phrase ' middle classes' never
passed my lips. It was to the predominance of a body far below the middle class

1831.] Ajf airs in General. 445

that I objected ; and even of this body, I spoke in no terms of disrespect. I
did, and still, protest against giving to the inhabitants of houses, rated at from
£10 to £20, a majority somewhat more than three-fifths of the elective power
of all the towns in England. I objected to place this overbearing force within
the immediate sphere, not of the respectable solicitors of the country, but of
inferior practitioners of the law— the description of persons whom the act for
petty courts would bring into operation against the more respectable members
of tne profession. 1 did object to increase the franchise of that lowest kind of
shopkeepers, who have always been found most open to bribery ; but I did not
object, as has been represented, that the humblest classes of my fellow-subjects
should enjoy its just share in that elective power.' "

The case of one of the members for Colchester, as decided by the
committee, is a striking instance of the closeness with which the letter of
the law may be pursued in some instances. A petition was brought by
a Mr. Mayhew against Mr. Spottiswoode, one of the successful candi-
dates. The petition was against the return of the latter gentleman, on
several specific grounds, the principal of which were, corrupt preference
on the part of the mayor, as returning-officer ; an allegation of bribery,
on the part of Mr. Spottiswoode's agents ; and thirdly, that Mr. Spottis-
woode held an appointment under the crown, as king's printer, con-
jointly with Messrs. Strachan and Eyre.

The grosser charges of bribery and corruption being given up at
once, Mr. Harrison proceeded to state that he was content to go upon
the ground of Mr. Spottiswoode's ineligibility, that gentleman holding a
situation, of considerable emolument, under the government, which
placed him within the immediate operation of the statute of George III.
for securing the independence of parliament. Mr. Adam, on the other
side, contended that the statute referred to by his learned friend applied
only to persons who had beneficial contracts with government, but that
the office of king's printer, being held under a patent granted by the
crown, could not be considered as coming within its provisions ; and it
was not denied that Mr. Spottiswoode's predecessor, Mr. Reeve, had sat
in parliament whilst he held a share in the patent, subsequent to the
passing of the act in question.

The discussion continued on this point ; and the committee having
retired, and consulted for some time, counsel were called in, when the
chairman (Sir Robert Heron) intimated that the committee had declared
the election to be void.

This decision unseats Mr. Spottiswoode, and will form a precedent
with regard to all other members who hold offices under government by
patent*

The enormous abuses of the ambassadorial salaries and pensions have
been again urged upon the House by Mr. Gisborne. Let him persevere :
the salaries allowed to our diplomatists are monstrous, and they require
only to be exposed to be abolished. Why should the country be taxed
to pay £11,000 a-year to Sir Charles Bagot, at the Court of Holland,
even though he has done the state the extraordinary pleasure of marrying
the Duke of Wellington's niece ? whose mother, by the by, as well as
the duke's, lives on a pension ! Whatever the baronet's use may be at
the little Court of the Hague, who can doubt that the interest of
£250,000 sterling is an enormous sum for his payment ? From the rate
of living, the obscurity of the court, and the obscurity of the ambas-

446 Notes of the Month on £ APRIL,

sador's own menage, he ought to put £9,000 out of his eleven in his
pocket every year of his life. Our ambassador at Vienna enjoys the
same, £11,000 a-year, in a country where living is exactly four times as
cheap as here ; and in consequence the salary which we give to this
lucky diplomatist, is the same as if we voted to him £44,000 a-year in
London ! Will any man in his senses say that such things ought to be ?
But we are told that this monstrous sum is necessary to keep up the
national dignity. Nonsense ; is the national dignity to be kept up by
dinners ? One noble lord sets about keeping up the national dignity by
making operas, and feeding fiddlers : another keeps it up by race-horses ;
another by the superiority of his renown among the rabble of foreign
theatres. And for all this, John Bull is forced to pledge his last shirt,
and walk about a pauper. The thing is totally beyond defence, and
must be abolished. As to the retiring pensions they are an insult
to common sense. A man puts all his instruments in motion, begs,
kneels, harangues, votes, prays, for a diplomatic situation; he gains his
point, looks upon it justly as a prodigious piece of luck, and goes off to
the Continent, leaving a hundred candidates cursing their stars. He
spends his half-dozen or dozen years in the midst of kings, queens, and
marriageable princesses, enjoying from four to ten thousand pounds
English a-year, which on the Continent is generally equal to four times
the sum. In fact the minister has appointed him to a splendid income,
on the painful condition of going to as many dinners and dances as he
likes, feasting on the fat of the land, and perhaps for his heaviest task,
acknowledging the receipt of a letter of condolence, or congratulation,
from one regal personage to another on the death of a wife or mistress.
Having received in this matter from fifty to a hundred thousand pounds
of English money, the minister finds that he has another diplomatic ge-
nius on hand, and he accordingly recals the ambassador. Then comes a
fresh demand on the nation. The ex-diplomatist demands as the public
penalty for losing his services, that he shall have a pension for life. It is
to no purpose to say, that he has been inordinately overpaid for all that
he ever did. He insists upon it, that the possession of a good thing this
year, implies a right to it the next, and that the more money wasted on
him in his office, the more money ought to be wasted on him when he
has not even the excuse of scribbling a passport.

Mr. Gisborne complained that there were twenty-eight persons
receiving pensions above £1,000, twelve of whom received pensions of
£2,000 and upwards. He also considered that £26,000 paid yearly on
account of the expence of our diplomatic relations with the Ottoman
Porte was extravagant. He contrasted the emoluments of ambassadors and
governors of colonies ; the former of whom were sent to pleasant places
and mixed in agreeable society, were well paid and allowed retiring
pensions — while the latter were sent out to countries not very desirable
to inhabit, did not receive such high salaries as ambassadors, and upon
retiring received no superannuation allowances. The honourable mem-
ber concluded by moving for a return of the date of all diplomatic and
consular pensions, whether included or not in the return of civil and
military offices, with the date of appointments, and length of service, of
the several persons receiving such pensions.

It must grieve so resolute a reformer as Lord Althorp, to have had
nothing better to say by way of answer to this appeal, than that he
looked upon those pensions as a sort of half-pay, which it was for the

1831.] Affairs in General. 447

interest of the country to provide, to induce those persons whose diplo-
matic talents might be productive of advantage to the country to make
the diplomatic service a regular profession. It was true, " that ambassa-
dors were sometimes sent to agreeable places, but it should be remem-
bered that they incurred great expences, and he did not think that it
would be good policy to discontinue altogether the payment of pensions."
Mr. Hume was of opinion that it would be a far better plan to give no
retiring pensions to ambassadors. He wished to know whether the
recommendation of the finance committee of 1828, that the amount of
these pensions should be confined to £40,000, had been complied with ?
But we must have inquirers on this subject and on others, who will not
suffer their queries to be answered with any official dexterity. The
English love plainness; and perfectly knowing that nine-tenths of
these diplomatic appointments were mere jobs, they will insist upon
seeing the abuse extinguished at once, and for ever. On the sale of
Lord Granville's shewy outfit, a paper remarks : —

" An Ambassador s Furniture. — The effects of Lord Granville, or, to use the
grand language of the auctioneer, e the splendid elegances,' are now for sale
by public auction ; and a grand display it certainly is. We hope our old friend
Phillips, when he comes to exercise his eloquence on the plateau, which is very
similar to that Mr. Leech, of the London Coffeehouse, prepared for his Majes-
ty's table at Guildhall, will exert it to explain why this regal pomp is neces-
sary for an ambassador, and how much better the business of the State is
performed in a foreign land, in consequence of such an exhibition of gold,
silver-gilt, and plate glass. If he can prove that it encourages foreigners to
solicit loans and subsidies from this country, that will be enough/'

Shakspeare says, <( you have taken away my living, when you have
taken away that whereby I do live." The old lady at the police-office,
ought on this principle to have charged her criminal with an intention
to commit murder, and the magistrates ought to have committed him to
stand his trial for his life at the Old Bailey. — A week or twro since an
old lady made her appearance, in a state of great wrath, at one of the
offices, and obtested the anger of the law against an individual who had
purloined a set of teeth that cost her thirty guineas, from her bed-cham-
ber. The thief, she said, wore the stolen property ! but the magistrate
said he could not interfere. This was a hard case, that justice could not
interfere when a lady complained that a robber had stolen " even the
teeth out of her head/' The case was pronounced a new one, for though
few things are worse than to eat of another person's bread, it is rather
singular to add the aggravation of eating that bread with the individual's
actual teeth. The wits have been active on the occasion. Some have
declared it a happy illustration of the original compact of man and wife,
(( bone of my bone." An epigram says, as the parties had quarrelled,
that the plunder of the teeth was merely a bonus upon the dividend.
Another, that all the dull things that have been said on the topic are
bon mots, for all that. The thief, we understand, says that he had but
one source of regret, that, " in stealing the teeth he did not carry off the
tongue."

The theatrical world are beginning to feel the national impulse, and
are crying out for the reduction of the King of Comedy, George Col-
man's, civil list. Among other grievances, they complain that this royal

448 Notes of the Month on Affairs in General.

personage will not license a song under two guineas ! George knows
the value of licence too well to throw it away for a song, and the
mulcted geniuses cry out against his throne accordingly.

Yet who can doubt that Thalia and Melpomene have a strong hold
upon the English taste, even though the licenser may exist, when we see
the statement that (exclusively of the English Opera-house) London
now boasts of fourteen theatres ; and in calculating the gross weekly
sum received at all of them, averaging £7,000, why it proves that, not-
withstanding the hardness of the times, we may say, with Fred. Rey-
nolds, in one of his eccentric comedies, " John Bull will go without
bread, but, bless him, never without plays."

But the fourteen are going to be reinforced with others in every
direction. An actor, named Waithman, is building a theatre at Pad-
dington ; and it is stated that the Pantheon, in Oxford-street, will be
re-opened in the course of the summer.

This is not all. The city is to have its share in the March of Theatres.
The new theatre in the neighbourhood of Bishopsgate-street, is likely to
realize abundant interest to the speculators. The population is suffi-
ciently dense, unquestionably, to give success to a playhouse, if the
attraction of the new Pavilion, now being finished with great splendour,
should not interfere.

Having thus provided for .London, Hyde-park-corner would feel
itself unhappy in being neglected, and of course it comes within the pur-
view of those whose business it is, to ' ' increase the harmless gaiety of
nations." A new theatre will shortly be erected at Knightsbridge, upon a
large vacant plot of ground nearly opposite the Cannon Brewhouse. The
Duke of Sussex has promised to lay the first stone. The theatre will be
built in shares, and it is patronized by the principal residents in that very
extensive and improving neighbourhood. Egerton, Ward, and Abbot,
are to be the managers.

After this let us hear no more of the exclusive rights of patentees, and
so forth. London has already more theatres than Paris, and the system
will go on with perpetual bankruptcies, of course, but still with per-
petual speculators, willing to risk their own credit, and their friends'
money on those fragile concerns. We promise a harvest to George
Colman.

A very striking work on that agonizing disease, the Calculus in the
bladder, has just been published. It is entitled " Cases in Lithotrity,"
or the new operation invented by Barori Heurteloup, for crushing the
calculus by means of instruments, and thus escaping the painful and
hazardous operations in common use. The pamphlet contains a consi-
derable number of statements of the use of the Lithotrity on patients,
from the different hospitals, as well as on gentlemen confided to the
inventor's care by surgeons of eminence. The operations were con-
ducted in the presence of Sir Astley Cooper, and the other principal
surgeons of London, and in every case stated the success seems to have
been complete. If any alleviation of this dreadful affliction can be
discovered, the inventor deserves every honour and advantage that can
be implied in national and personal gratitude.

1831.] C 449 ]

MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.

The Marchmont Papers. Edited by

$ir George Rose, Bart. 3 vols. 8vo To

the generality of readers the " March-
mont Papers" will convey little or no
idea of their contents, or even of the
family to whom they belonged So un-
familiar has the name become, and so
little impression have any of the owners,
however respectable, made upon the pub-
lie mind, that it will be more desirable,
in our brief notices, to tell who the par-
ties were, than to analyse at all curi-
ously the papers themselves. The first
Earl of Marchmont (born in 1641), will
be recognized under the name of Sir
Patrick Hume, the associate of Argyle
in his luckless expedition, on the acces-
sion of James II. of England. Sir
Patrick was baron of Polwarth, in Ber-
wickshire—was a member of the Scot-
tish parliament for his native county, in
1665— and thrown into prison for some
opposition to the tyrannical Lauderdale.
On the discovery of the Rye House Plot
— with the chief plotters, or at least
with those who were involved in the
charge of plotting, he was closely con-
nected— he found it safest to escape to
the continent. The tale of his conceal-
ment in a vault, told by his grand-daugh-
ter. Lady Murray, is a well-known nar-
rative. On the death of Charles the
Second he joined Argyle, and after the
miserable failure, returned to poverty
and exile in Holland, where he remained
till the revolution of 1688. He was a
member of the Scotch Convention, that
gave the crown of Scotland to William,
in addition to that of England, and was
himself in a few years, for his services,
'made Lord Chancellor of Scotland and
Earl of Marchmont. In carrying the
act of Union he was one of the most
influential agents, and his memory has
long laboured under the charge of truck-
ing his honour and patriotism for money.
Of the sum certainly spent in bringing
about the Union, £1000. was received
by him ; but Sir George Rose, in his
Duality of editor, takes up the cudgels
in his defence, and shews plainly enough
that the money was due to him, as chan-
cellor and a pensioner. It is. neverthe-
less, probably still true, that, but for his
activity in promoting the views of the
court, he would never have been paid
the arrears. He died in 1724. To this
first earl the papers which fill the third
volume of these Selections belong, con-
sisting of his own narrative of Argyle's
expedition, which has been published
before, and his Correspondence with
public men, contributing more or less
to illustrate the spirit of the times.
Alexander, the second Earl of March.
M.M. Aew Series VOL. XL No. 64.

mont, and son of the first (born 1675),
was brought up to the Scottish bar — was
a lord of Session before he was thirty —
and for some years actively engaged,
professionally and politically. In ' the
rebellion of 1715 he raised a battalion
of foot and two troops of horse ; and
was soon after employed diplomatically,
arid so continued many years. In 1733,
he joined the opposition against Wai-
pole on his excise scheme — chiefly, like
other Scotchmen, in the hope of turning
out Lord Islay from the government of
Scotland, in which he had contrived to
render himself generally unpopular. By
this opposition Lord Marchmont gained
nothing but the loss of his seat as a re-
presentative peer at the next election.
He died in 1740. His papers occupy
about half the second volume — chiefly
letters addressed to himself by eminent
individuals — two or three from that
mischievous and busy-body woman, the
Duchess of Marlborough.

Hugh, the third earl, and son of Alex-
ander, was born in 1708, and while Lord
Polwarth, in the Commons, was an ac-
tive opponent of Walpole's measures,
and bravely avenged the indignity cast
upon his father by Walpole's resent-
ment. " You may cry up," said Wai-
pole to his son, " Pulteney's, Pitt's, and
Lyttleton's speeches, but when I have
answered Sir John Barnard and Lord
Polwarth, I think I have concluded the
debate." His accession to his father's
title threw him out of the Commons,
and it was some years before he could
get returned as a representative peer.
The Diary of this Earl of Marchmont —
by far the most interesting portion of
the volumes — shews how closely he stu-
died public measures, or rather the pub-
lic intrigues of the times. The forma-
tor of the Broad Bottomed Administra-
tion, in 1744, removing all impediments,
he soon came into office, and was finally
made keeper of the great seal in Scot-
land, and continued in parliament till
1784. This lord died in 1794, and left
his family papers to the late George
Rose, father of the editor. The Diary
begins in July, 1744, and goes on to the
end of that year — is resumed the follow-
ing year for a few months — and again in
1747, for about the same period. It is
of a gossiping kind, but gossip that con-
cerns the leading statesmen of the day,
and well calculated to shew that states-
men, under the mask of virtue and pub-
lic spirit, were generally nothing but
traders in politics — salaries the prime
object. In his correspondence are nu-
merous letters of Bolingbroke — restless,
and impotent to the last.
3 M

450

Monthly Review of Literature,

[APRIL.,

The Tidlerles. By the Author of
" Hungarian Tales" Qc. 3 vols. 12wo.
— Mrs. Gore's heroine is the accom-
plished daughter of one of the oldest
and most aristocratic families of France,
inheriting all the prejudices of her caste
to the fullest extent. The hero is one
of the canaille — the born-vassal of the
lady's family — and his mother her fos-
ter-nurse. After the manners of the
country, the children were playmates,
and grew up together for years. The
boy was devoted to her, and as his years
increased his feelings took a deeper tone,
while the young lady regards him sim-
ply with a friendly kindness, as the son
of her favourite bonne, and her old com-
panion. These two -persons, standing at
the very poles of society in unrevolu-
tionized France, it is Mrs. Gore's ulti-
mate object to bring together, through
the equalizing medium of the revolu-
tion— cutting down the haughty preju-
dices of the one, and elevating the per-
sonal merits of the other ; and she has
accomplished her purpose with a clear
perception of the spirit of the revolu-
tion, and no common acquaintance with
its details. — The lady marries the Mar-
quis de St. Florentin, and mingles with
the court ; while Camille, her humble
admirer, gets a better education than
usual in his station, and early wins his
way to fortune in the manufactories of
Lyons. At the outbreak of the revolu-
tion, though sharing, with those of his
class, in the bright anticipations of its
early friends, he becomes no vulgar jaco-
bin ; but foreseeing the interruptions to
business, he realizes his large gains and
repairs to Paris. The chief magnet that
drew him there was still the marchioness
— to shield her in the too probable perils
that awaited her caste, was the single
and absorbing prompter of all his move-
ments. At Paris he has a cousin, a lead-
ing orator in the clubs, and one of the
mountain in the Chamber of Deputies.
With this person, the better to carry his
views into effect, he resumes his inter-
course, arid under his auspices enters
the National Guard, and soon, by other
influence, becomes an aide-de-camp of
Lafayette.

At this time the king's friends were
planning his escape, and De St. Floren-
tin, on the impulse of romantic loyalty,
devotes himself soul and body to the
accomplishment of the enterprise — dis-
regarding the claims of his family — and,
as it fell out, perishes in the attempt,
Camille had failed in his efforts to de-
ter him — but his position in the Na-
tional Guard enabled him to gratify his
fondest wishes, in serving the marchio-
ness, who is at last conveyed away in
safety from Paris, and conducted to her
father's chateau.

Meanwhile Camille's cousin, the jaco-

bin leader — the very beau-ideal of a
fiend — is panting for revenge. He has,
of course, a natural antipathy to all aris-
tocrats, and especially to the family,
whose steward his own father had been.
In his youth he had been shut up in the
Bastille, for some offence, and once been
struck by the head of the family. He
resolves to have his revenge — to devas-
tate the estate, murder the owner, and
marry the proud daughter — St. Floren-
tin's widow, to whom Camille is so de-
voted, and watches over so intently.
Camille is just in time to rescue herself
and one of her two children — the other
is lost in the mtlie — and carry her to his
own estate, and place her under the
protection of his mother, her beloved
bonne. In this secluded retreat the lady
lives unmolested, and Camille, happy in
her presence, withdraws from his official
engagements at Paris, and spends his
life in contributing to her comfort, and
attempting to make himself agreeable.
He, however, makes no progress — the
lady hardly suspects his hopes, and
dreams not of any thing so audacious
as an attempt to realize them. Sudden-
ly the Jacobin leader discovers the re-
treat of his cousin and the marchioness,
and intelligence reaches them that he is
on his way, armed with authority, to
work his own purposes. Camille and a
confidante of the marchioness confer to-
gether, and the only means of safety for
her seems to be marriage, to give him
a legal right to protect her. The pro-
posal is made — the lady is horror-struck,
but eventually submits, apparently not
knowing what she is doing. The cere-
mony takes place — Camille is himself
flung into prison, and at the very mo-
ment, when the ferocious jacobin hopes
to seize his prey, he is himself assassi-
nated by a little manoeuvre of Robe-
spierre. On Camille's consequent re-
lease, the lady, alive to her situation, up-
braids him with trickery and treachery ;
and poor Camille, seeing her prejudices
thus indelible, takes suddenly a solemn
leave of her and joins the army.

Five or six years elapse, when in
Italy, after the battle of Marengo, ap-
pears, in an important command, a Ge-
neral Mainville. This is Camille. His
official authority brings him in contact
with an Emigre family of distinction,
where re-appears also the marchioness.
The marchioness's lost daughter is found
to be a protegee of Josephine — both Jose-
phine and Bonaparte are aware of the
circumstances, and through their agency
the intercourse between Camille and the
marchioness is resumed. No very press-
ing influence is necessary — the lady's
prejudices had had time to give way ;
she gladly and gratefully recognizes the
validity of the former tie, ana becomes
the wife of Camille, who shortly after-

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

451

wards was a Marshal of France and not the evil complained of— but that
Prince of the empire. In spite of the the great are not content with the en-
joyment of their property, and the na-
'tural power it brings with it, but they

eternal details of the old French revo-
lution, the tale is sufficiently readable — •
Mrs. G. has spirit, knowledge and exe-
cution.

The Extraordinary Black Book. By
the Original Editor — In this department
of our miscellany we have little to do

power

must rule, willy-nilly, and what they
cannot accomplish by fair means, they
scruple not to do by foul. The days of
pension, and monopoly, and boroughs,
are fast vanishing — and the noble must,
like the mean, take care of their own

.,. ,, . i . . i -I • j •- JL1IYC I* -lit U4CttAA4 l/l*IYW «.(**.!>* v» V««W*A w

Stt?JLl2SSj65 IlSHer?,7 ^"vf! families, and not saddle them upon the

community.

A very large proportion of the Black
Book rests, for its authority, upon offi-
cial documents — themselves often incor-
rect, but not guilty of ouer-statements.

of the publication before us. I he
Black Book appeared some years ago,
originally in driblets, and, when radi-
calism was less in fashion, excited no
common attention, and drew the regards
of many, for the first time, to corrup-
tions— nor did the detection of repeated

A Year in Spain, by a Young American,

blunders very much lesson its credit. 2 vols —These two" agreeable volumes

Essentially, the abuses, which it is the profess to be the production of a young

object of the book to expose, are now American, who spent a twelvemonth in

admitted on all hands, except only by Spairii partl for the gratification of a

those who benefit by them, and even iiberai curiosity, and partly to acquire

numbers of them can no longer muster the ian^uaCTe— become in the United

assurance enough to maintain black is States f vast importance, from their
white, and corruption purity. The growing connections with the South.

The of the yo American ex-

lected m a single volume— a new work tended along the eastern coast to Valen-
m fact — better arranged, better exe- cia aml from thence to Madrid, where

cuted, more correct in its details ; and he ed the winter, mixing,

ppa-
bler

, ,

though still abounding in small mis- rentiy5 mostly among the hum
takes, inevitable in such an undertaking, ciasses_he had no grand introductions
and shewing an unwise leaning to con- _and with the first travellmg weather

found things essentially distinct, is yet
backed by such irrefragable testimony

in the spring, made excursions to Tole-
do, Segovia, &c. ; and finally quitted

Cadiz. Full of the superiority of his
own country, the writer— a very intelli-

and authorative documents, as to de- th; co2ntTy' by the way of Seville and
serve the serious regard of every one
who considers that the interests of the

whole community should alone be the gent person— finds abundant "grounds
governing principle of its public msti- jpor depl0ring the condition of the Spa-
tutions. niards — ascribing all, and fairly enough,

It is idle to talk of bringing things to the institutions that have crushed
back to some far distant point of pu- their energies. The priests generally —
rity. It matters not how affairs were in the larger towns— amount to two per
managed, good or bad, some hundred cent, of the population. "Whole regions
years ago. The real question is, what are in a state of comparative desolation,

and much of the country looks more so
than it really is, from the absence of
woods. La Mancha is stript bare, and
very much of the interior, from a preju-

does common sense demand for the secu-
rity of the common rights and best in-
terests of the existing community ? That
demands — and it is the pervading cry

of the country -not any change in the dice of the natives against trees, as bar-
constitution of the government, but the bouring birds. This is a most woeful
sweeping away of its corruptions, and prejudice ; for the central parts of the
the realizing of the theory of it. By country consist generally of a high table-
that theory every man is equal under land — exposed and dry naturally, and
the law — every man governs by his re- made ten times more so by the absence
presentative, and every man is" eligible of shade and foliage. Valencia alone
to office. By the practice of the day, presents the appearance of a cultivated
nothing like such equality exists ; the and opulent region. Corn, fruits, flax,
whole government is monopolized by a hemp, and cotton, abound ; and mul-
small knot of exclusionists, who tax as berry-trees, that produce silk to the
they like, and pocket the produce, till amount of a million and half of pounds,
pluralists, placemen, pensioners, and The extraordinary fertility is attributed
sinecurists, all of the " order," cover the A Al
land, and cut away the sources of all
fair pretension. — Inequalities of pro-
perty, and that to great extents, must berry-trees are stript three times a year
always exist, and inequalities of per- —clover and lucerne mown eight, "and
sonal influence in proportion — that is even ten times — citrons of 6lbs., and

3 M 2

to the system of irrigation. The rivers
are almost wholly poured upon the crops,
and with so much success, that mul-

452

Monthly Review of Literature,

par
fou

bunches of grapes of 141bs., are gather-
ed— wheat yields 30 for 1 — rice, 40— •
and Indian corn, as a second crop, 100.
The author travelled, for the most
t, by the public conveyances, and
ound them generally the least liable
to interruptions and delays. Twice they
were stopped by robbers. Between
Tarragone and Valencia, the wretches
deliberately crushed the head of the
guard, by battering it with a stone, and
stabbed the driver, a boy — till both were
left for dead ; and, in fact, one died
within a few hours, and the other lin-
gered only a little longer. Great diffi-
culty occurred in procuring assistance.
Instead of hastening to lend their aid,
in such cases, Spaniards will in general
run the other way- Persons found near
the body of a murdered person are de-
tained either as witnesses, or as suspect-
ed persons. The author doubts whether
the Spaniards do not dread the law worse
than robbers and murderers. The word
justicia, he says, as in the davs of Gil
Bias, is never pronounced without a
shudder. Three of the robbers were
taken into custody, the author learnt,
when at Madrid ; and upon inquiring if
they were likely to be hanged, his in-
former told him—" The fact of one of
them being a stranger rendered it pro-
bable ; but if they had money to put into
the hands of an escribano, or notary, to
fee him and the judges— or to buy an
escape— or, as a last resort, if they
could procure the interposition of the
clergy, they might yet go unpunished."
At Madrid, he had the assistance, for
the language, of Don Redondo y Mo-
reno, who, in the days of the Constitu-
tion, had been a minister of state. He
was still an impurificado. This requires
explanation : —

The reader is not perhaps aware, that on the
return of despotism in Spain, Juntas of Purifica-
tion were established in all parts of the kingdom,
before which all persons who had held offices un-
der the abolished system were bound to appear,
and adduce evidence that they had not been
remarkable for revolutionary zeal, nor over-active
in support of the Constitution, before they could
be admitted to any new employment. Such as
come out clean from this investigation, from be-
ing impurificados or unpurified, become inde-
finidos or indefinites, who are ready to be em-
ployed, and have a nominal half-pay. These in-
definidos have long formed a numerous class in
Spain, and now more so than ever. They are
patient waiters upon Providence, who, being on
the constant look-out for a god-send, never think
of any new means to earn a livelihood. They may
be seen in any city^ of Spain, lounging in the
coffee-houses, where they pick their teeth, and
read the gazette, but never spend anything ; or
else at the public walk, where they may readily
be known, if they be military officers of rank, by
the bands of gold lace which bind the cuffs of their
sin touts of blue or snuff colour, and by their mili-
tary batons, or still more readily by their huge

cocked-hats of oil-cloth, with which they cover
their sharp and starved features.

The bigotry of the Spanish court and
government are ascribed wholly to the
priests : — •

From these causes, then, and not from the so-
vereign will of a single individual, originate
those persecuting decrees and apostolic denun-
ciations which have brought OB Ferdinand the
appellation of bloody bigot, and all the hard names
in the calendar of abuse*. There is much reason
to believe, on the contrary, that he cares little
for religion ; and though, by way of flattering the
clergy and the nation, he may once have made a
petticoat for the Virgin Mary, yet, if the truth
were known, he would doubtless be willing to do
less for her ladyship than for any living Manola
or Andaluza. The character of the present king
is indeed little known in foreign countries, where,
from the mere fact of being called El Key Also-
Into, every thing is supposed to emanate from his
individual will. His character is not, in fact, so
much a compound of vices, as made up of a few
virtues and many weaknesses. He is ready to
receive the meanest subject of his kingdom ; and
is said to be frank, good-humoured, accessible,
courteous, and kingly, in an unusual degree. He
will listen attentively to those who appeal to him,
appear convinced of the justice of what they ask,
and promise compliance, without ever thinking
again of the matter. Facility is his great foible,
and yet is he occasionally subject to irritability,
and disposed to be wrong-beaded and have his
own way, to the no small inconvenience of those
who undertake t o direct him. The faults of Fer-
dinand are partly natural, partly the effect of edu-
cation. Instead. of being trained up and nurtured
with the care necessary to fit him for the high
station to which he was born, his youth was not
only neglected, but even purposely perverted. —
There is about him a look of blunt good-humour
and rough jollity, which gives a flat denial to the
cruelty ascribed to him. He is said to have a lean-
ing towards liberalism — weak, perhaps in propor-
tion to the inefficiency of his character, yet render-
ed probable by the fact that he is now more detested
by the ruling party, and acting under more re«
straint, than in the most boisterous period of the
Constitution.

Proposal for the Establishment of Vil-
lage Schools of Industry, $c.— The pur-
pose of this brief address is to urge upon
the proprietors of land the utility and
practicability of village schools of in-
dustry. In this country we have no no-
tion of any purpose to be promoted by
schools, but the acquisition of A, B, C.
The fundamental principle of the pro-
posed institutions is to communicate not
merely letters, but whatever knowledge,
mental and manual, is likely to be of
service to the future labourer, and no
more. Industry is the first object — the
essential habit to be inculcated — and for
this purpose a piece of land is to be at-
tached to the school, to be cultivated by
the children, under the direction of a
master, who, with the aid of a workman,
accustomed to farm -labour, is to allot
and enforce the labours. The children,

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

453

besides, are to be instructed in various
mechanical employments, and brought
to turn their hands to any thing useful
— to the works of the mason, the car-
penter, the smith, &c — knitting, knot-
ting, tailoring, &c. The friends of the
children will be invited to lend their as-
sistance in teaching their several trades,
and receive a compensation, in little
jobs of their own, done by the children,
washing, mending, &c., or a share in the
produce of the land. The scheme is
full of benevolence, and only requires
zealous agents to be productive of most
admirable results. Here and there the
proprietors of villages will meet with a
person ready to give up soul and body
to the realization of such a plan, and
then it will succeed, with only common
encouragement on their parts. But to
set mere mercenaries about such an oc-
cupation, will entail nothing but disap-
pointment upon the kind-hearted indi-
viduals who attempt to carry the scheme
into effect.

Encyclopaedia Britanmca. Parts XI.
and XII. — The new edition of the
Encyclopaedia Britannica, which inter-
weaves the whole of the well-known and
well-approved Supplement, and under-
takes to work up every article to the
period of publication, goes on steadily —
fulfilling with great zeal and excellent
effect all its engagements. The exten-
sive subject of Anatomy, comprising
that of man, animals, and vegetables,
fills up almost the whole of the fasci-
culi before us. The Treatise is a very
competent epitome, and will, with the
illustrative plates, furnish all the infor-
mation that any unprofessional person
is likely to have occasion for. We know
of no volume of anatomy — whatever
may be its professions of adaptation to
popular utility — that will so completely
answer the general reader's purpose.
The ornamental part of the work is very
superior to that of the best of the ante-
cedent editions.

Recollections of a Seven Years' Residence
in the Mauritius, or Isle of France. By
a Lady. — The lady represents herself as
having quitted the West Indies with
her husband, and accompanied him to
the Mauritius, whither he went in the
fond hope of getting some official ap-
pointment of importance from the go-
vernor of the island. The situation he
obtained fell far short of his expecta-
tions, and what was worse, his duties
detained him in the town during the
unhealthy season, and he soon left his
wife a widow, and his children orphans.
The Recollections of the poor lady are
addressed to the surviving children, and
are, of course, tinged witn a lugubrious
colouring; but apart from the sad cir-
cumstances of her tale, the volume con-

tains a very lively account of a region
but rarely the subject of description.
The French ladies, though devoted very
much to dress and gaiety, and but little
informed, she found universally ami-
able, and vastly improved by the nu-
merous intermarriages that have been
contracted with English officers and
English merchants. The Mauritius is
looked upon as the Montpellier of the
East — many repair thither from India
for the recovery of their health, and are
often benefited. The lady seems to
think less favourably of it —

Contrary to the usual opinion in small islands,
the sea-breeze (she says) is considered highly in-
jurious by the inhabitants of Port-Louis, and is as
much dreaded by them as the malaria of Italy.
I thought at first this was a mere fanciful notion,
but when 1 had been some little time a resident
there, I found that the wind from the sea inva-
riably affected me with head-ache, and frequently
gave me cold. Most persons, I believe, experi-
enced the same effects from it, and it was conse-
quently generally excluded from the apartments
when it prevailed.

It is not generally known that Hin-
doo convicts are sent to the Mauritius
from the Presidencies. —

Amongst the objects that arrested my attention
in passing through the country, I remember be-
ing struck with the appearance of the Hindoo
convicts at work on the roads. These are men
who have committed various offences in India,
and have been sent to the Mauritius (at the re-
quest, I believe, of Governor Farquhar) to be em-
ployed in this way. They were dispersed about
"the country in parties, under the command of an
English Serjeant, and had each a small ring
round one ancle, merely as a mark, for it is too
slight to be a punishment. They had a most
scowling aspect, and some particularly seemed to
me to be suited to the study of a painter in Salva-
tor Rosa's style — the dark malignant glance, the
bent brow, the turban of dirty white, or dusky
red ; the loose drapery, only half clothing the
body, gave them a wild, picturesque appearance,
to which mountain scenery added still greater
effect.

At Pamplemousses — the most beauti-
ful spot in the island — are the tombs of
Paul and Virginia — still visited, it seems,
by all the young lieutenants and mid-
dies the moment they land upon the
island. The lady has no mercy upon
the illusion —

The fact is (she says) these tombs have been
built to gratify the eager desire which the Eng-
lish have always evinced to behold such interest-
ing mementos. Formerly only one was erected,
but the proprietor of the place finding that all the
English visitors', on being conducted to this, as
the tomb of Virginia, always asked to see that of
Paul also, determined on building a similar one,
to which he gave that appellation. Many have
been the visitors who have been gratified, conse-
quently, by the conviction that they had looked on
the actual burial-place of that unfortunate pair.

454

Monthly Review of Literature,

[APRIL,

Those "tombs" arc scribbled over with the names
of the various persons who have visited them, to-
gether with versos, and pathetic ejaculations, and
sentimental remarks. St. Pierre's story of the
lovers is prettily written, and his description of
the scenic beauties of the island are correct, al-
though not even his pen can do full justice to
them ; but there is little truth in the tale. It
is said that there was indeed a young lady sent
from the Mauritius to France for education, dur-
ing the time that M. de la Bourdonnais was go-
vernor of the colony — that her name was Virginia,
and that she was shipwrecked in the St. Geran.
I heard something of a young man being attached
to her, and dying of grief for her loss ; but that
part of the story is very doubtful. The Bay of
the Tomb, the Point of Endeavour, the Isle of
Amber, and the Cape of Misfortune, still bear the
same namos, and are pointed out as the memor-
able spots mentioned by St. Pierre.

British Architects. By Allan Cun-
ningham. Vol. XIX. of Family Library.
— Allan Cunningham makes an admir-
able biographer of artists — he is free
from the prejudices and fetters of the
profession. Though acute enough in his
perceptions, his feelings never shake his
judgment ; he knows and cares too little
about established rules and the cant of
taste, not to obey the dictates of com-
mon sense ; and is too independent and
resolute not to give expression to his
own convictions, though they chance to
conflict with received opinions. He
finds but eight British architects to
commemorate, and of them two were
scarcely worth noticing, while a third
is perhaps but equivocally connected
with the practice of the art itself. Wil-
liam of Wykeham, no doubt, built at his
own cost the splendid cathedral of Win-
chester, but how far its architectural
merits are indebted to his designs must
for ever remain a secret. Mr. Cun-
ningham cuts the difficulty of tracing
the origin and career of Gothic, or ra-
ther ecclesiastical building ; and after
repeating a few conflicting opinions con-
cludes thus, in his own rough, but felici-
tous manner —

When I have wandered among the majestic
ruins of the abbeys of Scotland — not unacquainted
with the classic works of Greece— I never for one
moment could imagine that in the ribbed aisles,
the pointed arches, the clustered columns, and in-
telligible yet grotesque carvings of the mouldering
edifice before me, I beheld but the barbarous per-
version of what was once grand and classic — I
could as soon have believed that a battering ram
had degenerated into a cannon, or a cross-bow
into a carabine. The building on which I looked
seemed the offspring of the soil— it corresponded
in every thing with the character of the surround-
ing landscape. The stone of which it was built
came from the nearest quarry, the wood which
composed its screens and carvings were cut in
the neighbouring forest, and the stories and le-
gends chiselled on every band and cornice were
to be found in the history of the particular church
or in that of the Christian religion. The statues

of saints, kings, angels and virgins,belongecl to mo-
dern belief: and in their looks, and in their dra-
peries, they aspired to nothing beyond a copy of
the faces and dresses to be found in the district ;
whilst the foliages, flowers, and fruits, which so
profusely enriched band, and cornice, and corbel,
were such, and no other, as grew in the woods and
fields around, &c.

Inigo Jones was the introducer of
Grecian architecture; but he had few
opportunities of executing his own fa-
vourite plans, and was compelled, for
the most part, to conform to the tastes
of his employers. In conjunction with
Ben Jonson, he got up the masques of
the courts of James and Charles, and
thought his doings in pasteboard and
paint equal at least to Jonson's poetry,
and was even for taking the lead in the
assertion of his claims — the performances
were announced as the works of "Jones
and Jonson." Soured by dis/ippoint-
raent, and irritable by temperament,
Jonson lampooned his colleague, and
fell without mercy upon his vanity and
follies. Of Jones's buildings, few now
remain in their original state. On ac-
count of his extensive works in the re-
pair of St. Paul's, he fell under the cen-
sure of the angry Commons ; on the
breaking out of the war. he lost his place
of surveyor-general, and as a known
" malignant," he was compelled to com-
pound severely for his estates.

Wren is the architect who has left
behind him the most numerous works,
and some of the most important. St.
Paul's and the city churches are splen-
did monuments of his genius. He lived
too long for his cotemporaries, and in
his old age was sacrificed to the jealousy
of rivals, and the neglect of his patrons.
At the age of 86, he was deprived of his
official appointments, and even the con-
clusion of the works at St. Paul's taken
out of his hands. He bore the indig-
nity manfully, and survived it still five
years.

Vanbrugh, though the constant butt
of Swift's and Pope's satire — from mere
love of mischief apparently — has risen
in reputation considerably in modern
times ; and indeed the builder of Blen-
heim, and the writer of some of the wit-
tiest, though perhaps coarsest comedies
of the age, was never likely to be long
obscured by the sport of Swift, nor the
spite of the Duchess of Marlborough.

The throwing open of St. Martin's
magnificent portico has revived the me-
mory and illustrated the merits of Gibbs,
while nothing, not even the villa of
Chiswick, can keep those of Burlington
alive. Walpole, with his aristocratic
predilections, could see nothing to ad-
mire in the ignoble commoner, while
the architectural peer, like the king,
could do no wrong.

In Kent, Mr. Cunningham finds no-

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

455

thing but quackery.. He seems to think
him a kind of architectural milliner —
possessing about as much title to dis-
tinction as a maker of artificial flowers.

Chambers could write better than
build— and not much of that ; though
Somerset-house is a splendid pile of
building.

History of the War in the Peninsula,
$c., fram 1807*0 1814, by Col. Napier,

Vol. Ill We have before expressed

our sense of Colonel Napier's qualifica-
tions for accomplishing the task which
he is zealously and inuefatigably prose-
cuting. As a soldier, and one who was
himself engaged in the service he de-
scribes, he comes with advantages which
no mere layman can possess, whatever
be his industry or intelligence ; and he
has too much confidence, by natural
temperament, in his own decisions to
withhold any of them, whether bearing
upon military or political points. His
admiration of Napoleon and Wellington
knows no bounds ; while for the minis-
ters at home, who blindly pursued their
own views, and carelessly thwarted their
commander, his contempt is supreme.
The conduct of the French troops,
Colonel Napier traces as much in detail
as that of the British and their allies —
and so, acceptably enough, supplies what
is lamentably defective in all other his-
tories of the war. For the general reader
— who is not, of course, as somebody
said with some humour, " particular" — •
the military details are too oppressive to
get through ; but for martial folks they
have their charm and their good ; for it
must be as useful to study the blunders
of the enemy, as the victories of their
own chief. Most of those blunders may
be tracked to the disunion and jealousy
of Napoleon's officers, and the want of
his own controlling presence.

The third volume is occupied chiefly
with the campaigns of 1810— preceded
by some details of the former year, in
Catalonia and the South, to bring up
arrears. After the battle of Talavera —
where the second volume terminated —
Lord Wellington took up a position on
the Guadiana, and maintained it till,
provoked by the want of cordial co-
operation on the part of the Spaniards,
he resolved to abandon the country, and
confine himself, for a time, to the de-
fence of Portugal. While thus en-
camped along the river, the troops pe-
rished by thousands, from what was
called the Guadiana fever ; and censures
upon the commander have been pretty
generally cast, for thus exposing them,
apparently, for no adequate purpose.
Colonel Napier insists that it was by
maintaining this position, and not by the
battle of Talavera, that he saved Anda-
lusia ; and the proof is, that the moment

he quitted it for the valley of the Mom
dego, the French advanced.

The detail of Massena's invasion of
Portugal- -of Wellington's retreat within
his own lines (of Torres Vedras)— and of
Massena's final abandonment of Portu-
gal, bring up the narrative of the war to
the miserable battle of Albuera, which
Colonel Napier characterizes, without
scruple, as one that adds nothing to the
laurels of the commander. Alive, as
Beresford still is, some men would have
yielded a little to the restraining hand
of common delicacy ; but Colonel Na-
pier piques himself upon obeying higher
impulses.

Colonel Napier's remarks upon the
Guerilla system are admirable. We
quote a scrap : —

It is true that if a whole nation will but 'per-
severe in such a system, it must in time destroy
the most numerous armies. But no people will
thus persevere ; the aged, the sick, the timid, the
helpless, are all hinderers of the bold and robust.
There will also be a difficulty to procure arms ;
for it is not on every occasion that so rich and
powerful a people as the English will be found in
alliance with insurrection ; and when the invaders
follow up their victories by a prudent conduct — as
was the case with Suchet, and some others of the
French generals — the result is certain. The de-
sire of ease, natural to mankind, prevails against
the suggestions of honour; and although the op-
portunity of covering personal ambition with the
garb of patriotism may cause many attempts to
throw off the yoke, the bulk of the invaded people
will gradually become submissive and tranquil.
It is a fact that, notwithstanding the violent
measures resorted to by the Partida chiefs to fill
their ranks, deserters from the French, and even
from the British, formed one-third of their bands.

To raise a whole people against an invader may
be easy ; but to direct the energy thus aroused,
is a gigantic task, and, if misdirected, the result
will be more injurious than advantageous. That
it was misdirected in Spain, was the opinion of
many able men of all sides; and to represent it
otherwise, is to make history give false less.onsto
posterity. Portugal was thrown completely into
the hands of Lord Wellington ; but that great
man, instead of following the example of the Su-
preme Junta, and encouraging independent, bands,
enforced military organization upon totally dif-
ferent principles. The people were, indeed, called
upon and obliged to resist the enemy ; but it was
under a regular system, by which all classes were
kept within just bounds, and the whole physical
and moral power of the nation rendered subser-
vient to the plan of the g?neral-in-chief. To art
differently is to confess weakness : it is to say that
the government, being unequal to the direction of
affairs, permits anarchy.

His estimate of the Spaniards, with
his defence of that estimate, is spirited
and decisive : —

I have been charged with incompetence to un-
derstand, and, most unjustly, with a desire to
underrate the Spanish resistance ; but it is the
province of history to record foolish as well as
glorious deeds, that posterity may profit from all ;

456

Monthly Review of Literature,

QAPRIL,

and neither will I mislead those who read my
work, nor sacrifice the reputation of my country's
arms to shallow declamation upon the uncon-
• querable spirit ofi ndependence. To expose the
errors is not to undervalue the fortitude of a noble
people ; for in their constancy, in the unexam-
pled patience, with which they bore the ills in-
flicted alike by a ruthless enemy, and by their
own sordid governments, the Spaniards were truly
noble : but shall I say that they were victorious in
their battles, or faithful in their compacts ; that
they treated their prisoners with humanity ; that
their Juntas were honest or wise ; their generals
skilful ; their soldiers firm ? I speak but the bare
truth, when I assert that they were incapable of
defending their own cause ! Every action, every
correspondence, every proceeding of the six years
that the war lasted, rise up in support of this fact ;
and to assume that an insurrection so conducted
did, or could possibly baffle the prodigious power
of Napoleon, is an illusion. Spain baffle him!
Her efforts were amongst the very smallest causes
of his failure. Portugal has far greater claims
to that glory. Spain furnished the opportunity ;
but it was England, Austria, Russia, or rather
fortune, that struck down that wonderful man.
The English, more powerful, more rich, more
profuse, perhaps more brave than the ancient
Romans; the English, with a fleet, for grandeur
and real force, never matched, with a general
equal to any emergency, fought as if for their
own existence. The Austrians brought four
hundred thousand good troops to arrest the con-
queror's progress ; the snows of Russia destroyed
three hundred thousand of his best soldiers ; and
finally, when he had lost half a million of ve-
terans, not one of whom died on Spanish ground,
Europe, in one vast combination, could only tear
the Peninsula from him by tearing France along
with it. What weakness, then, what incredible
delusion, to point to Spain, with all her follies
and her never-ending defeats, as a proof that a
people fighting for independence must be victo-
rious. She was invaded, because she adhered to
the great European aristocracy; she was deli-
vered, because England enabled that aristocracy
to triumph for a moment over the principles of the
French Revolution.

Dr. Lardner's Cabinet Library. Vol. III.
Annual Retrospect of Public Affairs for
1831. — This is no bad conception. A
glance of this kind over the year, at the
end of it, in these stirring times, might
save abundance of labour, and reminds us
conveniently at little cost and trouble.
But one volume should have been the
limit. Such a degree of compression
would have prevented much of it re-
sembling, as it now does, the stale de-
tails of the newspapers. Greece, France,
and Belgium occupy the chief portion
of the volume. Leopold's rejection of
the sovereignty is told far too lengthily,
though fairly enough. More swelling
matters have driven Greece into the
back -ground. The great patrons of
Greece in England and France — Pal-
merston and Sebastiani — are now both
of them respectively at the head of the
foreign departments — will Greece be the
better for it ? Will they now urge upon

the Port the evacuation of Candia — so
earnest as they both were when out of
office ? — French affairs are brought up
to the trial and sentence of the minis-
ters, which might very well close the
year ; but the writer is not disposed to
let go his hold, and proposes to prose-
cute the subject in a second volume. —
Belgium is barely touched upon — a lit-
tle preluding only respecting Be Potter.
Home seems to present nothing but Par-
liamentary''prattle, of which the author
takes a fair estimate enough. Would
that the Reform Bill swept away ano-
ther two hundred ! Four hundred talkers
might surely satisfy any nation upon
earth. The Athenians themselves were
never such babblers as we are become —
but they had no reporters !

Waverley Novels — Kenilworth. — Sir
Walter's success in his portrait of
Queen Mary, in the "Abbott," natu-
rally prompted, he tells us, a similar
attempt respecting " her sister and her
foe," the celebrated Elizabeth of Eng-
land. Robertson avowed his national
prejudices, and Sir Walter, " a poor ro-
mance writer," as he describes himself,
dare not disown, what so liberal an his-
torian ventured to avow. Nevertheless,
in delineating Elizabeth — whom, by the
way, Dr. Nares, in his second volume
of "Burghley's life, assures us, was not,
as some affirm of the devil, so black as
she is painted— Sir Walter's aim was to
describe her as a high-minded sovereign,
and a woman of passionate feelings—
hesitating between a sense of her rank
and duty to her subjects on the one
hand, and her attachment, on the other,
to a nobleman, who, whatever might be
his character, was at least a very hand-
some man, and of attractive manners.
Leicester's murder of his wife was a sub-
ject of general suspicion and allusion, as
appears from numerous sources. Sir
Walter's authority is Ashmole's His-
tory of Berkshire — but his first ac-
quaintance with the story was from
Mickle's Cummor Hall. There can
be little doubt Leicester had enemies
enough. A favourite has no friend;
and he was not of a nature to conciliate.
Sir Walter has clenched the nail. Lei-
cester and murder are for ever now in-
separable— an effect which might sug-
gest a little more caution in dealing
with historical character.

The Animal Kingdom, on Cuvier^s Ar-
rangement. Edited. by E. Griffith^ and
others. Part XXVII. — The twenty-
seventh portion of this respectable un-
dertaking, of which we have more than
once expressed our approbation, is taken
up with Reptilia, and chiefly with frogs
and toads. Frogs, it seems, are going
out of favour in France, though still to
be met with in the markets, but not so

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

457

generally or so abundantly as in Italy
or Germany. The French, with us,
monopolize the whole credit. They,
however, eat nothing but the hind quar-
ters, and that only of animals fed and
fattened with care and selection ; but
the Germans eat all parts of this loath-
some animal, except the skin and in-
testines. Of old, the flesh of the frog,
with salt and oil, was used as an anti-
dote to poison ; and, in modern times,
doctors have recommended, in cases of
epilepsy, the " liver of a frog calcined
in an oven, on a cabbage leaf, between
two plates, and swallowed in peony wa-
ter." But what absurdities have they
not recommended? The ornamental
portion of the work is very supe-
rior both as to selection and execu-
tion.

Arthur of Britanny, by the author of
" The Templars," 3vols., 12mo. — Though
we have given Arthur of Britanny but a
hasty glance, we have seen amply suffi-
cient to satisfy us, that the author is
destined to gather no ordinary renown
on the fields of historical romance. He
enters well into recorded characters —
supplies with skill and congruity— and
talks consistently of the times he des-
cribes. The prominent personage of the
tale is King John — a mixture of the ape
and the tiger — a dastard in spirit, but a
profligate in purpose, and reckless of
the means employed to perpetrate his
designs, whether to gratify revenge or
lust. The history of the world, fertile
as it is in worthless monarchs, when
monarchs were less cribbed and cabined
than they now are, or than they are
likely to be, scarcely furnishes so odious
and contemptible a person as John —
one so utterly without any redeeming
virtue* A rebel to his father — a traitor
to his brother, and the usurper of his
nephew's rights, instead of removing
invidious impressions, and conciliating
the good-will of unwilling subjects, he
alike, without scruple or restraint, vio-
lated public rights and invaded private
ones — trampling upon the charities of
life— seizing by main force where he
could not dupe or seduce, and murder-
ing by dark assassins where he despaired
of netting his victims in the meshes of
perverted laws. Human tolerance could
no longer brook the insulting tyranny,
and to the resentment of the barons,
not always of the purest kind, are we
indebted for the basis and principles of
our own civil liberties. It is true, the
nobles meant nothing but to secure
their own rights ; but, luckily for us, so-
large and so comprehensive were the
terms employed by them to define their
demands, that it has since been difficult,
and finally impracticable to confine and
M.M. New Series VOL. XI. No. 64.

contract them again within the limits
which the barons of old doubtless meant
to restrict them, and to which again the
barons of our own days would gladly
bring them back. The defining of poli-
tical rights, in general terms, once ad-
mitted, -was of eternal advantage— it
has been a constant object of appeal and
triumph — a step that never could be
trodden back.

In his tale the author introduces
young Arthur, quickly after his mar-
riage with Marie of France, into the
palace at Winchester, as the son of
Hubert de Burgh, where he plays
queen's page, while Hubert bestirs him-
self in rousing the nobles to get rid of
their worthless king and assert the
youth's rights. Of course much of the
piece is occupied with the risks both
parties incur from the jealousies and
suspicions of John, and the activity of
his agents. In the palace Arthur recog-
nizes his sister Eleanor, who, like Brutus
of old, had been feigning idiotcy for
years, and her lover, Louvaine, in the
disguise of court-fool. His bride too, is
employed by the indefatigable Hubert,
in prosecuting the same schemes. With
all these zealous agents, however, the
plot fails for want of money. Money
was to be forthcoming from an old
money-dealer, but John got scent of it,
and was beforehand with them — mur-
dering the poor man, and bearing off for
his own use, the sinews of war. The
scene changes to Britanny, where Arthur
is captured and thrown into the Castle of
Falaise ; but is rescued from John's assas-
sins by the faithful Hubert, and instead
of dying the death which historians
assign him, he lives a long life, in some
happy retreat with his lovely and active
bride, where though he gives up royalty
for himself, he becomes the steady ad-
viser of his brother-in-law, and all Louis
IXth's best deeds are ascribed to his
sage promptings.

Venetian Sketches — family Library.
Vol. XX. — These are well executed
sketches, but so connected and even con-
tinuous, that the title of history might
as appropriately have been assumed.
The volume extends to the year 1406
— the year in which Carrera and his
sons were captured and butchered. The
sequel will occupy another volume. The
exposure of her archives, when Venice
finally sank under the dominion of
Austria, and the subsequent, or rather
consequent works of Sismondi and
Count Daru, have of late stirred a new
interest in favour of Venetian history.
Poets and novelists have lon<r made
Venice their favourite theme. But the
public acquaintance with its history has
been chiefly confined to the periods
3 N

458

Monthly Review of Literature,

[APRIL,

which romance has made its own. Never
was the study of facts more indispen-
sable than since writers of imagination
have blended their fancies so intimately
with realities as they have done of late.
Thev are perpetually misleading, partly
by their own misconceptions, and partly
from their incapacity, often, to keep
their representations within the limits
of congruity . The study of history be-
comes daily more imperative, to prevent
the confusion of fact and fiction, which
must be the consequence of the grave
and imposing tone taken by novelists.
No harm will be done by the romance
writer, where the reader is acquainted
with the spirit of the times, and the
characters exhibited. Just as no mis-
take results from the representation of
modern manners, where a previous and
personal acquaintance exists ; because,
in that case, the reader enjoys the illu-
sion, even while he discriminates. No-
body, in short, should venture upon his-
torical novels without first possessing
himself of facts— or, at least, of what
are, till they get corrected, regarded as
such. Such sketches as these of the
Family Library will prove most conve-
nient little books for precluding the er-
roneous impressions to which we have
been alluding.

Lays from the East. By Robert Calder
Campbell. — A volume of poetry from the
East, with which the author may pro-
bably have beguiled the weariness of some
solitary station up the country. Some
of the pieces — they are all short— are
very beautiful, and the whole of them
considerably above the average of cur-
rent versification. The specimen is
taken almost at random —
Silent she stood — her white hands on her breast
Clasped, with the strength of pain ; and o'er her

cheek

A crimson blush was seen to come and go,
Like lightning — bursting from the curling cloud,
Making all bright, then leaving it again,
In all its waste of darkness. Lovely still
She was, though wild; and on her eyes there

shone

A fierceness, not her own, by madness sent
To soil that gentle nature. She had loved,
And wedded one who was not what he seemed ;
For 'neath the form of noblest manhood
He hid the spirit of a demon-fiend,
And in the ardent lover soon she found
The scourge domestic— che home-paining tyrant.
It was too much for her — her breast, though

meek

As is the lambkin's in its mirthful mood,
Had yet drep wells of passion and of thought,
And they did flood ere long.

Endymion asleep reminds us of Keats,
not only in subject, but in manner. It
is equal to the very best of Keats — a
little strained like his, — but soft and
sweet as voluptuousness can conceive—

Endymion! mine own Endymion, sleep!
Sleep, still as sea flowers in the silent depths,
Where Naiads come not ! Sleep, soundly as birds
That crush rich grapes in wantonness, until
Intoxication seize them ! Sleep, dear hoy !
Soft as young cygnets. Sleep, that I may breathe
The kisses of a goddess on thy brow —
Kisses more sweet than bees of Hybla sip
From spice-balls on Hymettus— sweeter far
Than those the incense-breathing born inhales
From lily-buds and scented cinnamon !
Oh! sleep, my shepherd swain! my beautiful!
That I may stamp the signet of my love —
My fervent, burning love, in one long kiss
Upon those perfumed lips. — Oh ye who know
What 'tis— the secret transport— thus to glide
Upon the slumbers of the one you love, &c.

A Grammar of the German Language,
ly C. F. Becker, M.D.— Becker's Gram-
mar, though logically reasoned, and con-
sistently arranged, will never become
popular among English folks, were it
only for the new terms and technicalities

which the author has chosen to adopt

as if to repel the student at the thresh-
hold. To a German, accustomed to ap*
plication, and with abundance of leisure,
new terms for an old science present no
obstacle ; but an Englishman, who knows
what he has called from his childhood a
substantive and an adjective, has no no-
tion of confounding them both under
the mystical term of national words, and
other old acquaintances under that of
relational words. Dr. Becker, indeed,
gives us his word that the difficulties of
this terminology of his are but trifling — •
are all in the outset, as if that was nothing
at all— will soon vanish, as he has him-
self had ample experience in the course
of ten years teaching Englishmen. It
may be so, but every body cannot
go to Offenbach on the Maine, to secure
his personal services. The doctor, how-
ever, plumes himself, especially, upon
his renouncing these our old fashions of
grammars built upon antique Latin ones
— his depends wholly upon the dictates
of nature. He goes to the roots of
things, and these roots are all verbs.
Of course verbs might be expected to
take precedence in his grammar, but
they do not. The derivations, primary
and secondary, of nouns and adjectives
in sundry shapes, come first, and then
follow, by some unaccountable inver-
sion, the roots in the disguise of verbs.

Then follow other classes of words,

which do not, however, differ essentially
from the old-fashioned " parts of speech,"
with which the greater part of the world
are well content, and manage, more-
over, to get up, with them, a foreign
language, sufficiently for common pur-
poses, and not one in a thousand requires
more. The doctor is fearfully learned,
and subtilizes till the reader loses his
way in a cloud of discriminations.

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

459

The Didoniad, a semi- Virgilian Natttic
Epic, in Nine Cantos. Edited by Paul
Heidiger, Esq., late Lieutenant of the
Royal Navy- — A vast deal too much, if
the term of a " good thing" was even
remotely applicable to it. The joke is
carried to a most serious extent— sur-
passing, indeed, the limits of all mortal
patience. The writer must be his own
reader — for one labour must be as stu-
pendous as the other. Five or six thou-
sand lines of a pertinacious attempt at
humour — much of it in the shape and
semblance of parody too — stand about as
much chance of getting read as so many
sleepy sermons. No parody spread over
more than half a dozen pages, however
brilliant in spots, was ever yet success-
ful. There is really no laughing over
it — one can do nothing but growl. The
recollection, too, of Cotton's Travestie
• — quite irrepressible — is of no manner
of advantage to this nautical attempt at
a new one. The new ./Eneas is the com-
mander of a man-of-war, as rough and
wilful as his own element, who, after
undergoing repairs in a Sicilian port,
cruizes off the African coast, and en-
counters a new Dido, who falls in love,
&c. We print a specimen — by no means
the worst, and perhaps not the best —
Divine /Eneas, then, our noble chief,
With mortals dwelling, deigned, [but here, Belief
Scarce can believe,] for sympathy's dear link,

With men to dine divinely, and to sup,
And no less as a demigod to drink,

Where friendship's summons claimed the social

cup

Or sparkling bowl. His steadiness to steal
All powerless they, or once to make him

flounder :

Howe'er mere common human clay might feel,
The heaven-born hero only slept the sounder.
Did Virgil wish to give a novel bias
To the Epic when hedrew/tz's hero pious ?
Was't " piety," he neither drank nor swore ?

The Ilian swordsman always had some sleight
Or foul play of his godling guides in store,
To help him out, in lieu of manly might.
His buccaneer behaviour to poor Turnus,
With indignation is enough to burn us.
Who shall pronounce him either good or great,
Who heathenly ascribed events to fate ?
Now, our ^Eneas never had but one duct
Of moral feeling — cutlasses and conduct.
The one a conquered fugitive went to sea ;
The other, in his native gallantry.
Compared with Slowjohn he was quite a craven,
Whom chance, not worth, consign'd to fortune's

haven.

True, there's that story of his filial feat
In shouldering off his father, in retreat
From burning Troy, which children learn by rote.
Not very likely, in the crowded street
Of the sack'd city, Greeks, in battle heat,
Should grant such grace to any. But we'll quote
A surer case: — Slowjohn> in perpetuity,
Tripled his mother's jointure, as annuity.

Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia. Vol.
XVI — This volume completes the His-

tory of Maritime and Inland Discovery,
and the whole proves to be an excel-
lent digest of materials, covering an im-
mense space, and much of which has lost
its value by subsequent and more cor-
rect information. This concluding por-
tion of the work communicates the pith
of the discoveries and narratives of By-
ron, Wallis, Carteret, Cook, La PC.
rouse, Vancouvre, Ito^s, Parry, and
Weddell — besides a rapid sketch of
events in the South Seas, and a glance
at Australia and Van Diemen. Of Tra-
vels, in like manner, we have Franklin's
Journeys in North America, and Hum-
boldt's in South America — and in Africa,
Bruce, Parke, Denham, Clapperton,
every one, in short, down to Caillie.
The most remarkable deficiency is in
India, of which vast regions we find
nothing but notices of travellers in the
Himalyeh. One chapter is dedicated
wholly to Bruce, against whom the com-
piler entertains too much of the old pre-
judice, which Major Head has recently
been combating in Murray's Family
Library. He mistakes as to facts— so
far were Lord Valentia and Mr. Salt
from affording, as he states, their testi-
mony to Bruce's correctness, that the
first studiously, though with little per-
sonal knowledge of his own, sought to
exhibit proofs of his ignorance and his
falsehood. Salt himself, too, was ready
to back his patron, and even when sub-
sequent experience better enabled him
to appreciate Bruce's statements, he tar-
dily and grudgingly acknowledged their
general fidelity. But Bruce is charged
specifically with humbugging the public
as to the source of the Nile. The
branch he traced to its springs was after
all not the main stream ; but, then, who
but Bruce himself told us that the Blue
River was far inferior in magnitude to
the White ? Then again, proceeds the
writer, he " endeavoured to conceal
from the public, and even from him-
self,'] the fact, that the sources which
he visited had been seen 150 years be-
fore by Paez, the Portuguese Jesuit —
when the truth is, that Bruce points
out inaccuracies in Paez's descriptions ;
and as to concealing the fact from him-
self., it is not so easy a matter as the
writer seems to think.

The writer does not, we observe,
question the fact of Caillie's having ac-
tually reached Timbuctoo, but he adds,
justly enough, that geography has gained
nothing by the details. It is idle, in-
deed, for incompetent persons to go on
such errands ; and yet our own govern-
ment have recently dispatched Clapper-
ton's servant to the coast of Africa-^a
man who has no earthly recommenda-
tion but that of being seasoned to the
climate.
3 N 2

460

Monthly Review of Literature.

An Only Son, a Narrative. By the
Author of "My Early Days." — Only
sons have rarely a common chance of
judicious management in any rank of
life. The writer's aim is to illustrate
the effects upon the character and for-
tunes of a child so circumstanced, pro-
duced by the ambition of a parent in
one of the humblest stations of society.
The father's efforts are directed towards
an object, of which he has but a vague
conception, and the means of accom-
plishing which are wholly without the
sphere of his own experience. The re-
sult is not to be wondered at — the fa-
ther is baffled, and the son's happiness
wrecked. The only son of the tale is
the offspring of a small farmer and shop-
keeper in the west, rough and uncouth,
but who married a woman of a softer
and more intelligent cast, whose in-
fluence served to soften a heart not per-
haps originally hard, but frozen by the
rigid principles of Puritanism. She
died early, but had lived long enough
to stir in "him a desire to educate his son
beyond his own station. Unlicked him-
self, and with no judicious advisers at
hand — his efforts are miserably directed,
and the consequent failure is all ascribed
to the youth's indolence, perverseness,
or want" of filial regard. Though hoard-
ing avowedly for the child's benefit, he
grudges the outlay of every penny. He
takes him to a fashionable school, rudely
and coarsely equipped, and the child
becomes the sport of his fellows — and

money and anxiety alike are thrown
away. The result is past his comprehen-
sion— he loses his temper, and condemns
the boy to the lowest offices of the farm
and the shop. Then suddenly revert-
ing to his old object, he places him with
an apothecary, and speedily dispatches
him to Edinburgh to study physic.
At the end of the session the youth
returns, embarrassed with a load of debt
. — there is no confidence between father
and son, and the latter dreads to make
the disclosure. A discovery follows, and
with it a scene of violence. The youth
deserts his home, and accompanies the
son of an opulent neighbour, just start-
ing as a dragoon officer for Spain, in the
character 01 a volunteer. For a time
his friend is still his friend, but by
degrees he cools — the other's pride is
alarmed — words ensue, and a duel is the
consequence, in which he has the misery
to kill his friend. Already shocked at
the devastations of war, he abandons the
camp, and, returning to his paternal
dwelling, finds his father dead, heart-
broken by the disappointment of his
fondest hopes. Eventually, the young
man, left to himself, turns again to his
medical pursuits, and seems to be prov-
ing himself a very useful country sur-
geon, in Wales, at peace, and without
ambition, in the company of an old
maiden aunt. The tone is gloomy and
dispiriting — but the writer's purpose is
well developed — and the whole compo-
sition vigorous and full of thought.

FINE ARTS' PUBLICATIONS.

The sixth and seventh parts of the
Views in the East, are full of beauty.
The first scene is a very curious temple
at Benares, half immersed in water,
with some of the towers leaning over
upon the river, in a position that ren-
ders Pisa's leaning tower anything but
remarkable. The next is one of the
Caves of Ellora, well engraved by Wool-
noth ; and Delhi, a splendid scene by
Purser and Miller. Jahara Baug, Agra,
by Boys and Cooke, is clear and sunny
enough ; and yet it is exceeded in beauty
by the Palace of the Seven Stories, Bee-
japore, which forms a lovely picture,
and is admirably engraved by W. Fin-
den.

The subjects selected for the twenty-
second and twenty-third Nos. of the
National Portrait Gallery are, the late
Mr. Huskisson and the late Lord El-
lenborough, with the following living
" illustrious and eminent personages :"
Sir Edward Codrington, Lord Tenter-
den, the Bishop of Peterborough, and
Sir George Murray. The portraits of
Lord Ellenborough, Admiral Codring-
ton, and Sir George Murray, are from

pictures by Lawrence ; and the engrav-
ings do entire justice both to the taste
of the painter, and the character of the
subjects. Mr. Huskisson's portrait,
from an original picture painted three
months before his death, is an interest-
ing accession to this popular and valua-
ble series.

In addition to the intrinsic beauty, as
engravings, of the Landscape Illustra-
tions of the Waverley Novels, we feel a
charm in looking through them which
could never naturally belong to the
scenes themselves, picturesque as most
of them are. It is the genius of the
Novelist that has made them magnifi-
cent in our eyes, and given beauty to
the barrenest places. Who can look on
Both well Bridge in the number before
us — the eleventh — and not be awakened
to all the stirring associations connected
with Old Mortality ? The others are —
Fast Castle, Bride of Lammermuir,
York Minster, Ivanhoe, and Castle-
Rushin, Peveril of the Peal; all of
them worthy the volumes they illus-
trate, and the names that are attached
to them.

1831.] [ 461 ]

WORKS IN THE PRESS AND NEW PUBLICATIONS.

WORKS IN THE PRESS.

By Dr. Uwins : a Treatise on Men-
tal 'Derangement, considered in all its
bearings — Statistical, Pathological, Pre-
ventive, and Curative.

By the authors of the Odd Volume,
and others: two volumes of tales,
sketches, and poems.

By Dr. Thomas Mayo : an Essay on
the influence of Temperament in modi-
fying Dyspepsia or Indigestion.

By J. M. Cramp : a Text Book of
Popery ; with Notes and Illustrations.

By Robert Vaughan, Author of " The
Life and Opinions of Wycliffe :" Me-
morials of the Stuart Dynasty, includ-
ing the Constitutional and Ecclesiastical
History of England from the Decease
of Elizabeth to the Abdication of
James II.

By the Rev. Charles B. Tayler, Au-
thor of" May You Like It :" The Re-
cords of a Good Man's Life.

By Walter Savage Landor : Gebir,
Count Julian, and other Poems.

Tales from the German of Tieck :
Old Man of the Mountain, the Love-
charm, and Pietro of Albano.

By the Author of Rank and Talent :
a Novel, entitled Atherton.

Rustum Khan, or Fourteen Nights'
Entertainment at the Royal Gardens at
Ahmadebad.

Compiled by Mr. Arrowsmith : a
Compendium of Ancient and Modern
Geography .

By the Rev. William Thorp: the
Destinies of the British Empire, and
the Duties of British Christians at the
present crisis ; in four Lectures.

By Archibald Alexander, D.D., with
Introductory Remarks, by John Mor-
ison, D.D. : the Canon of the Old and
New Testaments ascertained; or, the
Bible complete without the Apocrypha
and unwritten Tradition.

By R. Jarman : Omnipotence, a Poem.

By the Author of " Solitary Walks
through many Lands," Spain in 1830.

By W. H. Harrison : a Second Series
of Tales of a Physician.

By Mr. R. Ainslie : a Series of Essays
on the Evidences of Natural and Re-
vealed Religion.

By the Author of De L'Orme : a new
Novel, entitled Philip Augustus.

The Life of Sir Thos. Lawrence:
embellished with three portraits from
paintings by himself.

By Dr. Hamilton: the History of
Medicine, Surgery, and Anatomy, from
the earliest period to the present time.

The fifth and concluding Volume
of D'Israeli's Commentaries on the Life
and Reign of Charles I.

The third and concluding Volume
of Dr. Nares's Life of Lord Burleigh.

LIST OF NEW WORKS.

BIOGRAPHY AND HISTORY.

Life of Henry Fuseli, Esq., Lecturer
on Painting, &c. By John Knowles.
3 vols, 8vo. £2. 2s.

The Life of John Walker. M.D. By
John Epps, M.D. 8vo. 12s.

J\Iemoirs of John Frederic Oberlin,
Pastor of Waldbach, in the Ban de la
Roche, with Portrait and Vignette.
12mo. 7s.

Col. Napier's History of the War in
the Peninsula. Vol. 3. 20s.

A Selection from the Papers of the
Earls of Marchmont, illustrative of
Events from 1G85 to 1750. By the Rt.
Hon. Sir George Rose. 3 vols. 8vo.
£2. 2s.

Framlingham, a Narrative of the Cas-
tle. By James Bird. 8vo. 7s. 6d.

MATHEMATICAL AND SCIENTIFIC.

A System of Plane and Spherical Tri-
gonometry, with a Treatise on Loga-
rithms. By the Rev. Richard Wilson,
M.A. 8vo. 10s. 6d.

A Treatise on Decimal Parts and
Vulgar Fractions. By Alfred Day,
A.M. 12mo. 2s.

A Treatise on Optics. By the Rev.
Humphrey Lloyd, F.T.C.D. Vol. I.,
containing the Theory of Unpolarized
Light. 8vo. 15s.

Remarks on Canal Navigation ; illus-
trative of the advantages of the use of
Steam, as a Moving Power, on Canals,
with a Series of Experiments, Tables,
&c. By William Fairburn, Engineer.
In 8vo., with plates. 8s. 6d.

Recent and Important Discoveries,
for brewing and making Wine, from
Rhubarb, Sugar, &c. &c. ; also, most
excellent Vinegar, for the Table, &c.
By Charles Drury. 12mo. 2s.

MEDICAL.

The Effects of the principal Arts,
Trades and Professions on Health and
Longevity. By C. Turner Thackrah.
8vo. 3s. 6d.

The Physiology of the Fcetus, Liver,
and Spleen. By George Calvert Hol-
land, M.D. 8vo. 8s.

Paxton's Introduction to the Study of
Anatomy. 8vo. 21s.

Money's Vade Mecum of Morbid
Anatomy. Royal 8vo. 25s.

Coster's Manual of Surgery. By
Fife. 12mo. 7s. 6'd.

Weber's Anatomical Plates. Parts I.
and II. 21s. each.

Dewhurst's Guide to Human and
Comparative Phrenology. 18mo. 3s. 6d.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Anatomy of Society. By J. A. St.
John. 2 vols. Post 8vo. 18s.

The Dramatic Annual, by Frederic
Reynolds. 18s,

462

List of New Works.

[APRIL,

The Dictate Book, being Lessons on
Life, Men and Manners. Compiled by
the Rev. G. Hall. 5s. 6d.

Archbold on the Poor Laws. 2 vols.
Royal 12mo. 28s.

Dunbar's Greek and English Lexi-
con. 8vo. 25s.

Scriptores Grseci Minores. By J. A.
Giles, A.B., Oxon. 2 vols. 12mo. 14s.

Popular Modern Geography ; being a
Description of the various Kingdoms of
the World, with Thirty -one Maps. By
Alexander Jamieson, LL.D. 8vo. 18s.

Sir John Sinclair's Correspondence.
2 vols. 8vo. 28s.

Leigh's Guide through Wales and
Monmouthshire, with Map and View.
9s., cloth.

Roberts's Welsh Interpreter. 3s. 6d.,
cloth.

The Oxford University Calendar for
1831; corrected to December 1830.
12mo. 6s.

NOVELS AND TALES.

Society, or Spring in Town. 3 vols.
Post 8vo. £1. 11s. 6d.

The Tuileries, a Tale, by the Author
of " Hungarian Tales." 3 vols. 12mo.
£1. 11s. 6d.

Wedded Life in the Upper Ranks.
2 vols. Post 8vo. 2ls.

The Premier, a Novel. 3 vols. Post
8vo. £1. 11s. 6d.

Crotchet Castle, by the Author of
" Headlong-Hall." 12mo. 7s. 6d.

Legends and Stories of Ireland. By
Samuel Lorer. 12mo. 7s.

Welsh Superstitious Fairy Tales, &c.
ByW. Howell. 5s. 6d.

The Orientalists, or Letters of a
Rabbi. By Mr. Noble. Post 8vo.
10s. 6d.

The Sailor's Bride. 12mo. 3s. 6d.

POETRY.

Oxford, a Poem. By Robert Mont-
gomery. Post 8vo. 7s. 6d, Illustra-
tions to, &c. 8s.

The Albanians, a Dramatic Sketch.
By Geo. Bennett. 8vo. 7s. 6d.

Byzantium, and other Poems. By
B. A. Marshall. Post 8vo. 4s.

Summer and Winter Hours. By
Henry G. Bell. 8vo. 7s.

Greene's Dramatic Works. 2 vols.
Crown 8vo. 21s.

POLITICAL.

Hints for the Improvement of the
Condition of the Labouring Classes.
By the Rev. Peyton Blakiston, M.A.

Britain Regenerated. 8vo. 2s. (id.

Historical Sketch of the Bank of Eng-
land. Price 3s.

Dr. Lardner's Cabinet Library.
Vols III. and IV. Small 8vo. 5s.
boards ; being Annual Retrospect of
Public Affairs, for 1831. In 2 vols. 12s.

RELIGION, MORALS, &C.

Bishop Mant's Scriptural Narratives.
8vo. 13s.

Waldensian Researches. By Rev.
Mr. Gilly. With Plates. 8vo. 21s.

The Triglot New Testament. 8vo.
Part I. 4s. 6d. Interlinear, Greek,
Latin, and English.

Rev. John Scott's Church History.
Vol. III. 8vo. 12s.

The Preacher. Vol I. Containing
Sixty Sermons. 8vo. 7s. 6d.

Sunday School Memorials. 18mo. 3s.

Discourses on Subjects Connected
with Prophecy. 1 vol. 8vo. 12s.

Pietas Privata. With an Introduc-
tory Essay, &c., chiefly from the
Writings of Hannah More. 2s.

VOYAGES AND TRAVELS.

Narrative of a Voyage to the Pacific
and Behring Straits. By W. F.
Beechey, in 1825-6, 7 and 8. 2 vols.
4to. 4s. 4d.

Narrative of a Journey across the
Balcan, by the Two Passes of Selimno
and Pravadi, in 1829-30. By the Hon.
Geo. Keppel. 2 vols. 8vo. £1. 12s.

Journal of Travels in the Seat of
War between Russia and Turkey. By
T.B.Armstrong. 8vo. 10s 6d.
t A Year in Spain. By a Young Ame-
rican. 2 vols. Post 8vo. 16s.

Burkhardt's Customs of Modern
Egyptians. 4to. £1. 5s.

The Historical Traveller, comprising
Narratives connected with the most
curious Epochs of European History.
By Mrs. Charles Gore. 2 vols. 14s.

1831.] [ 403 ]

PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.

New Patents sealed in February, 1831.

To Jeremiah Grime, the younger, of
Bury, Lancaster, copper-plate engraver,
for inventing a method of dissolving
snow and ice on the trams or rail-ways,
in order that locomotive steam-engines
and carriages, and other carriages, may
pass over rail-roads without any obstruc-
tion or impediment from such snow or
ice. — 21st February ; 6 months.

To liichard Burgess, Northwick,
Chester, M.D., for inventing a drink for
the cure, prevention, or relief of gout,
gravel, and other diseases, which may be
also applied to other purposes. — 21st
February ; 2 months.

To Samuel Dunn, Southampton, engi-
neer, for a method of generating steam.
— 21st February ; fi months.

To Richard Trevithick, Saint Aith,
Cornwall, for an improved steam-engine.
— 21st February ; 6 months.

To Richard Trevithick, Saint Aith,
Cornwall, for a method or apparatus for

heating apartments 21st February;

6 months.

To William Sneath, Ison Green, Not-
tingham, lace-maker, for certain im-
provements in, or additions to machinery
for making, figuring, or ornamenting
lace or net, and such other articles to
which the said machinery may be appli-
cable— 21st February ; 6 months.

To Richard Abbey, Walthamstow,
Essex, gent., for a new mode of prepar-
ing the leaf of a British plant, for pro-
ducing a healthy beverage by infusion.
— 21st February ; six months.

To William Furnival, esq., Wharton,
Chester, for certain improvements in
evaporating brine — 21st February; 6
months.

To John Phillips, Arnold, Notting-
ham, for certain improvements on bri-
dles.— 21st February ; 6 months.

To Richard Williams, College Wharf,
Belvidere-road, Lambeth, Surrey, engi-
neer, for certain improvements on steam
engines. — 28th February ; six months.

To David Selden, Borough of Liver-
pool, county Palatine of Lancaster,
merchant, for certain improvements in
machinery used to give a degree of con-
sistency to, and to wind on to bobbins,
barrells, or spools, rovings of cottons,
and the like fibrous substances. — 26th
February ; 6 months.

To David Napier, Warren - street,
Fitzroy -square, and James and William
Napier, Glasgow, engineers, for certain
improvements in machinery for propel-

ling locomotive carriages, — 4th March ;
6 months.

To Apsley Pellatt, Falcon Glass
Works, Holland - street, Blackfriars -
bridge, Surrey, glass manufacturer, for
an improved mode of forming glass
vessels and utensils, with ornamental
figured patterns impressed thereon.—
9th 31arch ; 6 months.

To Robert Stephenson, Newcastle-
upon-Tyne, Northumberland, engineer,
for an improvement in the axles and
parts which form the bearings at the
centre of wheels for carriages which are
to travel upon edge railways. — llth
March ; 4 months.

To Charles Wood, Macclesfield, Ches-
ter, manufacturer, for certain improve-
ments in machinery for the spinning of
cotton, silk, flax, wool, and other fibrous
substances of the like nature, as well as
for throwing, doubling, and twisting
threads and yarns made of the same ma-
terials.—1 1 th March ; 6 months.

To William Peeke, Torquay, Torm-
sham, Devon, shipwright, and Thomas
Hammick, of the same place, shipsmith,
for certain improvements in rudder
hangings, and rudders for ships or ves-
sels.— 21st March ; 6 months.

To George William Turner, St. Mary
Magdalen, Bermondsey, Surrey, paper-
maker, for certain improvements in ma-
chinery or apparatus for making paper.
—21st March ; 6 months.

To Peregrine Phillips, jun., Bristol,
vinegar maker, for certain improvements
in manufacturing sulphuric acid, com-
monly called oil of vitrol. — 21st March ;
6 months.

To John and James Potter, Spiedly,
near Manchester, spinners and manufac-
turers, for certain improvements in ma-
chinery or apparatus applicable to the
spinning or twisting of cotton, flax, silk,
wool, and other fibrous materials. — 21st
March ; 6 months.

To George Royle, Walsall, Stafford,
whitesmith, for an improved method of
making iron pipes, tubes, or cylinders.
— 2 1st March; 6 months.

List of Patents which having been granted
in the month of April, 1817, expire in
the present month of April, 1831.

19. Edward Nicholas, Monmouth,
plough for covering with mould wheat when
sown.

29. Antonio Joachim Friere Marrere,
London, machine for calculating and as-
certaining the longitude at sea.

[ 464 ] APRIL,

BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS.

The house (of which a brief account
with two plates, is given in the first vo-
lume of Britton's " Illustrations of the
Public Buildings of London") consists
of a picture-gallery, a statue-gallery,
drawing-rooms, dining-rooms, cabinets
for vases and other antique curiosities,
which he had collected in the course of
his travels. Alluding to the style of
this mansion, and that of his country
residence, at Deepden, near Dorking,
Mr. Hope thus expressed himself: —
" In forming my collection, and in fit-
ting up my houses, my object has neither
been an idle parade of virtu, nor an
ostentatious display of finery. I have
observed, with regret, that most persons
employed in our manufactures, or in
furnishing our habitations, are rarely
initiated, even in the simplest rudiments
of design ; whence it has happened that
immense expense has been employed in
producing furniture without character,
beauty, or appropriate meaning."

In 1805, Mr. Hope published the
drawings which he had made for his fur-
niture, &c. in a folio volume, entitled,
" Household Furniture and Internal
Decorations." Notwithstanding the
sneers of that very tasteful publication,
the Edinburgh Iteview, Mr. Hope's
work speedily effected a complete revo-
lution in the upholstery and all the inte-
rior decoration of houses.

Mr. Hope was, in all respects, a muni-
ficent patron of art and of artists, and
even of the humbler mechanic ; for he
has been known to traverse obscure
alleys, lanes, and courts, to find out
and employ men of skill and talent in
their respective pursuits. Therwaldson,
the celebrated Danish sculptor, was
chiefly indebted to him for the early
support and patronage which he expe-
rienced. Flaxman was extensively em-
ployed by him ; and he enjoyed the sa-
tisfaction'of having excited the genius
and fostered the talents of Chantrey.
These are only a few of the numerous
instances in which his liberality was
nobly and advantageously employed. In
one case, however, his patronage was
returned by an act of the basest ingrati-
tude. Some dispute having arisen be-
tween Mr. Hope and a Frenchman of
the name of Dubost, respecting the
price and execution of a painting, the
artist vented his spleen by the exhibition
of an infamous caricature — a picture
which he entitled Beauty and the Beast.
It is in the recollection of many, that,
in this pictorial libel, Mrs. Hope was
drawn as the Beauty, and her husband
as the Beast, laying his treasures at her
feet, and addressing her in the language
of the French tale. The picture was
publicly exhibited, and drew such
crowds of loungers and scandal-lovers
to view it, that from £'20. to £'30. a day

THOMAS HOPE, ESQ.

This gentleman, equally known in the
world of .fashion and the world of art,
was a descendant from the Hopes (Ba-
ronets) of Craig Hall, in the county of
Fife. The founder of the family ap-
pears to have been John de Hope, who
came from France in the train of Mag-
dalene, Queen of King James the First .
His grandson, Henry, an eminent mer-
chant, married Jeanne de T.ott, a French
lady, by whom he had two sons : Thomas,
created a Baronet in 1628 ; and Henry,
ancestor of Hope, who settled in Hol-
land, and amassed a large fortune in
commerce. Of this gentleman, Mr.
Hope was, we believe, a nephew, and
a partner in the concern. One of his
brothers still resides in Amsterdam ;
and another (Philip Hope, Esq.), in
Norfolk-street, London. The Hopes,
of Amsterdam, were proverbial for
wealth, for liberality, for the splendour
of their mansion, and for their extensive
and valuable collection of works of art.
Early in life, Mr. Hope, possessing
an ample fortune, travelled over various
parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa ; and
having, with a refined taste, acquired
a facility of drawing, he brought home
a large collection of sketches, principally
of the architecture and sculpture of the
different scenes. Soon after his return
to, and settlement in, London, he pub-
lished " A Letter, addressed to F. An-
nesley, Esq., on a Series of Designs for
Drumming College, Cambridge ;" in
which, founding his pretensions on what
he had seen ana examined in the course
of his travels, especially with reference
to architecture, he criticized, with con-
siderable severity, the series of plans,
elevations, &c. which had been produced
by Mr. Wyatt. In consequence, as it
has been said, of these criticisms, Mr.
Wyatt's designs were rejected ; and
Mr. Wilkins was afterwards employed
to commence the college. The build-
ing, however, has not been finished.

Mr. Hope married the Hon. Louisa
Hope, the fifteenth child and youngest
daughter of the late Lord Decies, Arch-
bishop of Tuam, and brother to the late
Marquess of Waterford. By this lady,
he had three sons, who survive to la-
ment his loss. Of this Lady, eminent
for beauty, grace, and accomplishments,
a finely-engraved portrait, from Sir
Thoma's Lawrence's celebrated painting,
was published in La Belle Assemllee for
May, 1830.

Having purchased a large house in
Duchess-street, Mr. Hope devoted much
time and study in finishing and fitting
up the interior, partly from his own
drawings, and partly in imitation of the
best specimens of ancient and modern
buildings in Italy. He made designs
for the whole, and also for the furniture.

1831.]

Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.

465

was sometimes taken at the doors. It
was at length cut to pieces in the room,
by Mr. Beresford, the brother of Mrs.
Hope. For this, Dubost brought an
action against him, laving his damages
at £1,000. The jury, however, gave
him a verdict for £5.", as the worth of
the canvas and colours ; and even that
would not have been awarded had Mr.
Beresford put in a plea that he destroyed
the picture as a nuisance, instead of
putting in a general plea of " not
guilty."

In 1809, Mr. Hope published « The
Costumes of the Ancients," in two vo-
lumes, royal 8vo ; and that it might be
the more easily purchased, and thus
more extensively circulated, he gene-
rously caused it to be sold at a price by
which he is said to have made a sacrifice
to the amount of £1,000. Three years
afterwards, he published his " Designs
of Modern Costumes," in folio. These
works evinced a profound research into
the works of antiquity, and a familiarity
with all that is graceful and elegant. In
the improvement of female costume in
this country, they may be said to have
wrought wonders.

Even in this prolific age of author-
ship, a work of more varied, lively, and
intense interest than Mr. Hope's " Anas-
tasius, or Memoirs of a Modern Greek,"
has scarcely been known. When it first
appeared, it was generally ascribed to the
pen of Lord Byron. It has passed
through several editions, and is, in fact,
a standard book. At the time of Mr.
Hope's decease (which occurred at his
house in Duchess-street, on the 3d of
Februarv), he was engaged in passing
through the press a publication, " On
the Origin and Prospects of Man." He
has left an extensive collection of
drawings and engravings, illustrative of
buildings and scenery in Greece, Tur-
key, Italy, France, and Germany ; and
several plates of his antique sculpture,
vases, &c.

COMTE DE SEGUR.

Le Comte Louis de Segur, eldest son
of the Marquis de Segur, Mareschal de
France, was born at Paris, in 1753. His
high connections gave him consequence,
and his talent enabled him to avail him-
self of the fortuitous advantage. He had
distinguished himself in arms, in letters,
and in diplomacy, before the commence-
ment of the revolution. After serving
two campaigns in the revolutionary war
of America, he was, in 1780, appointed
to the high station of Minister Pleni-
potentiary to the Court of St. Peters-
burgh, between which and that of Ver-
sailles he had the satisfaction of accom-
plishing a perfect reconciliation. In the
year following, he concluded a treaty of
commerce for France, prevented the re-

M.M. New Series.—VoL. XI. No. 64.

newal of the treaty between Russia and
England, and thus secured for his own
country all the advantages which, till
then, had been exclusively enjoyed by
England. The Comte de Segur was a
poet, and a man of gallantry ; qualifica-
tions which were thought to have had
their full weight, with reference to the
success of his negociations, in the breast
of the Imperial Catherine.

The Comte accompanied the Empress
in her celebrated journey to the Crimea ;
and, the war between the Turks and
Russians having broken out, he became
her mediator. He was negociating a
treaty of alliance, in favour of France,
when the revolution in that country
broke out. He, in consequence, returned
to Paris; and, in the same year (1789),
he was appointed deputy from the no-
blesse of the capital to the etats-gencraux.
In 1791, he was made a mareschal de
camp. The ministry for foreign affairs,
and an embassv to Rome, were offered
to him. He chose the latter ; but, dif-
ferences arising between the Holy See
and the French government, he either
did not set out upon his mission, or the
Pope refused to receive him.

In 1792, the Comte de Segur was sent,
by Louis XVI., as ambassador to the
court of Berlin, in the hope of averting
the threatened war. In this object he,
with difficulty, succeeded. When the
king was dethroned, he retired from
public affairs ; but, on the 10th of Au-
gust, 1792, he was arrested by the Com-
mittee of Public Safety. On his libera-
tion, he left France, and remained abroad
during the whole of the reign of terror.
His property in France, and in St. Do-
mingo, having been ruined, in 1793 and
1794, he is said to have for a long time
supported his father and his family by
the productions of his pen.

After the fall of Robespierre, he re-
turned. In 1801, he was elected a mem-
ber of the legislative corps. He voted
in favour of the consulship for life to
Buonaparte; a measure which he pro-
nounced to be the most efficacious for
consolidating the new institutions. In
1803, he was called to the Council of
State, and elected a member of the Na-
tional Institute ; and, under the impe-
rial government, he was appointed to
the office of Grand Master of the Cere-
monies of France, and invested with the
cordon rouge. In 1813, he became a se-
nator ; and, in January, 1814, he was
named commissioner extraordinary from
the imperial government to the 1 8th
military division.

On the return of the Bourbons, the
Comte de Segur was created a peer of
France; notwithstanding which, when
Buonaparte reassumed the government,
he, by imperial command, resumed his
legislative functions, was again Grand

3 O

46G Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons. £ APRIL,

Master of the Ceremonies, and became the following year, reappeared under the

one of Napoleon's peers. This conduct title of a" Political Picture of Europe."

rendered him obnoxious to the ordon- He afterwards wrote " Favier's Politics

nances of the king, on his final restora- of Cabinets/' with notes ; and also a

tion, in U>ir>; and, stripped of all his "Collection of Poetical Pieces;" amongst

dignities, he afterwards lived in a state which was a tragedy, entitled " Corio-

of elegant retirement, surrounded by lanus," which had been performed at

many of the leading writers and philo- the Court Theatre of St. Petersburg}),

sophers of the day. The only public numei'ous vaudevilles, &c. In addition

distinction he enjoyed was that of mem- to these works, the Comte de Segur

ber of the French Academy, by a royal wrote " The History of Modern Ku-

ordonnance of the year 1310. ' rope" — "An Abridgment of Ancient and

For a time, the Comte de Segur was Modern History, for the Use of Youth.''

one of the editors of the Journal de Paris, in 38 volumes — '"Moral and Political

In IflOO, he printed his " History of the Gallery," &c.

principal Events in the Reign of Fre- The Comte died at Paris, on the 27th

derick William the Second ;" which, in of August.

MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.

THE variable state of the weather still continuing, much impediment has occur-
ed to the Spring culture, which nevertheless generally, will not be very backward,
excepting upon the heaviest and wettest soils ; upon those of a more favourable
description, a laudable expedition has been used, assuring a somewhat earlv seed
season. Here the farmers seem to have profited by unfortunate experience.
They have had before their eyes the striking difference between the earlv and the
latter sown wheats — the one a flourishing and luxuriant crop, requiring a check
from cold and drought, the other, in many parts, scarcely visible until ^the com-
mencement of the present month, the plants appearing puny and starved, abounding
with bare patches, from the depredations of insectite vermin, wire-worms, slugs
and grubs. Salt, from six to twenty bushels per acre, has invariably, according to
custom on the occasion, during the last half century, been warmly recommended
from the press, as the cheapest and most effective remedy, and it probably is so,
when sudden rains do not occur to dilute the salt. In February, the uncertainty
of the weather occasioned much interruption and delay in getting the Spring whea't
seed into the ground, and perhaps entirely preventing the usual practice in some
parts, of filling up vacancies in wheat sown before Christmas, with Talavera, or
Spanish wheat. We have, indeed, sometimes reaped abundant produce from land,
the crop of which in the Spring, had a very suspicious and discouraging appearance;
should such good fortune attend the present crop, it may be larger than we have
experienced during several past years, since the shew on all dry and good lands,
i-s to the full as satisfactory as could be expected, their too generally foul and
neglected state considered. At any rate, the corn laws have provided against
almost the possibility of scarcity or exorbitant price. In the mean time, these
laws are most unpopular among our home growers, more especially in reference to
the plan of averages, the managers of which are accused of the' grossest frauds.
The corn question, like ail others which involve conflicting interests, we find
oppositely determined, in accordance with the peculiar views of each party. Im-
partially, the impost was matter of stern necessity, and however defective in form,
the legislation may have been, bread corn has hitherto maintained nearly a famine
price.

The slovenly practice of broad-casting beans is at length fortunately giving way,
even in the remotest parts; but the dibble, or setting by hand, has ever been a
greater favourite than the drill ; the misfortune is, too many farmers will incur the
expence and labour of these beneficial practices, subsequently neglecting the very
grounds and essence of the benefits they are intended to confer, the inestimable
ones of hoeing, aerating and clearing the soil. Beans and the earliest Spring crops
were in the ground upon the forwardest soils, by the first week or middle of the
present month, where they are at present busily engaged in getting in their barley,
which in few parts is entirely completed. The farmers of heavy and backward
lands, that have rot been benefited by a due quantity of March dust, will dip too
deeply into April, for the sanguine expectations of very abundant spring crops. The
winter bean is losing its reputation in many parts, superseded by the white-eyed
species, at any rate better adapted to the lighter kind of bean soils: Welch barley
also, is getting into vogue, as of good weight and quality and an early ripenef.
The young clovers and tares are backward and much deficient in plant, chiefly no
doubt, from the imperfect seed of last year. The Tartarian oat is said to have
improved much in weight and quality from culture.

1831.] Agricultural Report. 4(37

Immediately on the closing of our last report, a considerable reduction took place
in the price of wheat, occasioned by the admission of foreign at the low duty ; at
the same time a sudden and large advance was experienced in the flesh markets.
With respect to horned cattle, store or fattened sheep, pigs, and dairy produce,
every article is rising in price (store cattle twenty per cent, above last year's price)
throughout the country, notwithstanding, sheep being excepted, a most abundant
supply — according to the old economists — a true sign of national prosperity, great
stocks and high price. The distress of the labourers comes home to the heart of
every humane and considerate man, nor can there exist any doubt that farming
generally, is a miserable and losing concern ; since, were there no other cause, the
last two or three harvests were sufficient to render it such ; but as to the general
distress and ruin of the country, we may happily and rationally make a positive
demur. If the farmers of dry, good, and sound lands, have not made a living
profit at the late prices of corn and cattle, farming is a profitless occupation indeed !
Surely the sale of Mr. Paull's stock, at Dillington farm, near Ilminster, attended
by upwards of one thousand persons, where Devon bulls were sold at from £35. to
£55. each, and cows from £15. to £25. IDs., exhibits no indication of poverty
and distress. Wool, at double last year's price, is still advancing, and so scarce in
some quarters, that staplers have been obliged to discharge their sorters, having
no material on which to employ them. Timber is gradually rising in price, walnut-
tree being in great request for gun-stocks. The aversion to tithes seems to per-
vade the whole country, amounting in a great number of individuals, to an im-
placable spirit of opposition. Notwithstanding the recent date of so many severe
examples, a number of midnight fires have been again lighted, even within these
few weeks, both in the East and West ; and our letters on this subject are of a
very melancholy and apprehensive tone ; those from females with families, cannot
be read without exciting sentiments of horror and commiseration. The old
treacherous and malignant spirit, though repressed and smothered, is still said to
lie rankling and festering in the minds of the agricultural labourers. There are
happily fewer out of employ than has been usual of late, and their situation has
been in some degree amended. The just and liberal plan of allowing the married
men an ample portion of garden ground, is extending in all parts, and we trust will
become universal ; we also heartily wish success to a settled and permanent scheme
of emigration. The threshing machines lately destroyed or laid aside are, in
various parts, reconstructing and coming again into use. Hay in great plenty ;
turnips consumed excepting on the best lands, where they can yet be of little
use, as running to seed. Potatoes are plentiful and cheap, in the Western coun-
ties about 4s. per sack.

As might be expected from the diseased state of the sheep, the lambing season
has been most unfortunate. The plague of rot is not yet stayed, but even said to
be still spreading, and the lambs produced by infected ewes partake of the parental
disease, and those Avhich survive are of little worth. Sheep have not done well
during the present season on turnips, a fact which need not excite admiration,
considering the loose and washy quality of the roots, and the nature of the disease
with which the animals were affiicted. The price of horses, within the last month
or six weeks, has had a considerable advance ; good ones, as usual, sufficiently scarce
in this country, so celebrated for its superior breed.

To conclude merrily, in these disastrous times, we repeat the intelligence we
have had from various inhabitants of that county so highly favoured by nature and
fortune — HERTS. " No rot in our sheep, which are doing well at less than the
usual expence, our plant of wheat strong and good, and our field-work more forward
than formerly — stocks of wheat in the farmers' hands larger than usual at this
season." We could moreover quote a number of districts, in which the too
common calamities of the occupations of farming have been fortunately escaped.

P.S. Since writing the above we have received Mr. Inglis's letter on the rot in
sheep the fall and condition of lambs in the counties of Kent and Sussex. We
return him our thanks for the communication, the facts of which have been also
stated to us from various parts of those counties. Mr. Inglis may convince himself
that we have not neglected this melancholy subject in our preceding reports, in a
late one of which he will find our opinion, grounded on long experience, of %t cures
for rotten sheep."

Smilhjield— Beef, 3s. 2d. to 4s. 6d.— Mutton, 4s. to 5s. 2d Veal, 5s. to 6s.

—Pork, 4s. 2d. to 5s. 4d.— Lamb, 7s to 7s. 6d.— Hough fat, 2s. lOd.

Corn Exchange.— Wheat, 54s. to 84s.— Barley, 28s. to 48s — Oats, 22s. to 34s

London 4lb. loaf, 10£d — Hay, 45s. to 84s.— Clover ditto, CDs. to 105s.— Straw,
30s. to 42s.

Coal Exchange — Coals, 21s. to 31s per chaldron.
Middlesex, March 25th.

3 O 2

[ 468 ] [APRIL,

MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.

SUGAR.— Muscavadoes improved considerably towards the close of the market :
last week the prices were rather more firm. The request for low goods consider,
ably improved last week ; the prices were 6d. to Is. per cwt. higher ; some parcels
of Crushed, subject to double refined bounty, were sold for the Mediterranean,
35s. and 34s. 6d. In fine goods for home consumption of the country, there was
more doing, but the prices were not higher ; Molasses were higher and rather
brisk. Mauritius sugars brought forward last week were of very inferior quality,
they went off at full market prices. In Bengal, and other East India sugars, there
have been few transactions. There is a great improvement in the inquiries after
foreign sugars, large parcels of Brazil sold at full prices ; brown Pernamo, 15s. to
16s. ; brown Bahias, 13s. 6d. to 14s. 6d. ; white Bohai, 19s. 6d. to 20s. ; white Rio,
2os. 6d. to 27s. 6d. ; parcels of white Havannah sold 32s. and 34s. ; for inferior
white, good, 35s. and 36s., yellow, 22s. 6d. and 23., brown 20s., the latter is rather
higher ; average price of sugar, 24s. 5|d. per cwt.

COFFEE — There is some improvement in the demand for coffee, parcels of St.
Domingo are reported sold at 40s. ; large parcels of Brazil, 38s. and 39s. ; fine
old Havannah, 45s. to 49s. 6d. bright coloured raw, 53s. 6d. to 54s. 6d. ; Batavia,
38s. to 39s., mixed, 35s. 6dL to 36s. 6d. In other East India coffees there are few-
transactions ; the request for Jamaica and Berbice for home consumption is limited.

Ru3i, BRANDY, HOLLANDS — In Rum there is nothing worth reporting. The
sales of Brandy are of the best marks, 5s. 2d. ; there is still an inquiry after the
low marks for exportation. The purchases of Geneva are extensive, the prices
2s. 6d. to 2s. 9d., on the quay.

HEMP, FLAX, TALLOW — The Tallow market remains in the same state as
before. The quotations for immediate delivery, or to arrange what the jobbers
sold on contract but cannot deliver, is 48s. 6d., and for August'and September the
price is 41 s. 6d. In Hemp and Flax there is no material alteration. The letters

from St. Petersburg are dated the 4th inst Exchange 10 13-16. Tallow 101 to

102. Bought 400 casks.

Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 1J. — Rotterdam, 12. 1^. — Ham-

Leghorn, 47. Oi.— Genoa, 25. 65.— Venice, 46. 0.— Malta, 46. 0.— Naples, 38. Of.
— Palermo, 117. 0. — Lisbon, 46. 0. — Oporto, 46. Of. — Rio Janeiro, 19. 0£.— Bahia,
25. 0.— Dublin, 1. 0|.— Cork, 1. 0£.

Bullion per Oz. — Portugal Gold in Coin, £0. Os. Od. — Foreign Gold in Bars,
£3. 19s. lO^d.— New Doubloons, £0. Os. Od.— New Dollars, £0. 4s. 10d.— Silver in
Bars (standard), £0. 4s. llfd.

Premiums on Shares and Canals, and Joint Stock Companies, at the Office of
WOLFE, Brothers, 23, Change Alley, Cornhill— Birmingham CANAL, (\ sh.) 265/. —
Coventry, 795/. — Ellesmere and Chester, T&L — Grand Junction, 246/ — Kennet and
Avon, 25£J.~Leeds and Liverpool, 397^—Oxford, 510/.--Regent's, 17^.— Trent and
Mersey, (£ sh.) 630/ — Warwick and Birmingham, 250/.— London DOCKS (Stock)
62 y.— West India (Stock), 1221.— East London WATER WORKS, OOO/.— Grand

Junction, 48£/ West Middlesex, 70/.— Alliance British and Foreign INSURANCE,

7f/.— Globe, 134i/.— Guardian, 24|/.— Hope Life, 5fJ.— Imperial Fire, 96/.— GAS-
LIGHT Westminster Chartered Company, 52J/,— City, 19 1/.— British, 2 dis —
Leeds, 195/.

ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BANKRUPTCIES,
Announced from February 23d to 23d March 1831, in the London Gazette.

BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED. BANKRUPTCIES.

J. Nowland, Liverpool, shoe-maker. [This Month 85']

S. Breeden, Birmingham, draper. Solicitors Names are %n Parentheses.

J. Mann, Cleobuiy Mortimer, baker. Andrew, W., Shrewsbury, mercer. (Clarke and

W. Marshall, Huddersfield, shoe-manufacturer. Co., Lincoln's-inn-nelds ; Williams, Shrews-

M. Barlow, Salford, publican, bury,

J. Jackson, Liverpool, merchant. Askin/E., Litchfield, printer. (Barber, Fetter-

— — Jane ; Young, Stoke-upon -Trent.

1831.]

List of Bankrupts.

Allcock, P., Redditch, needle-manufacturer.
(Lowndes and Co., Red Lion-square.

Armisted, H., Sabden-bridge, within Read, inn-
keeper. (Hurdand Co., Temple ; Hall, Clitlioro.

Armstrong, J., Raskelf, miller. (Butterfield,
Gray's inn.

Baddeley, J. C., Brisham, ship-owner. (Stratton
and Co., King's-arms-yard.

Boehsa, N. C., Recent-street, dealer in music.
(Cross, Surry-street.

.Barnard, R., Hollingbourn, paper-maker.
(Broiigh, Fleet-street.

Britten, D., late of Breda, Holland, packer. (Dam-
pier, Gray's-inn.

Browne, H., sen., and Humphrey, jun., Tewkes-
bury, carriers. (Boustield, Chatham-place ;
Brookes and Co., TewkesLury.

Byrne, W., Charing-cross, army-agent. (Hodgson
and Co., Salisbury-street.

Broimvieh, H., Newgate-market, carcass-butcher.
(Smith, Cliarter-house-square.

Bowman, B., and W. Thompson, Commercial-
road, colour-manufacturers. (Rickardson,
Ironmonger-lane.

Bloxliam, T., Hinckley, surgeon. (Jones and
Co., Gray's-inn; Jarvis, Hinckley.

Brown, T., Kingston-upon-Hull, scrivener. (Rush-
worth, Symond's-inn ; Rushworth, Kingston-
upon-HulI.

Chadwick, B., Ashton-under-Line, victunller.
(Higginbottom, Ashton-under-Line ; Clarke and
Co., Lincoln's-inn-lieUls.

Carter, H., Portsea, surgeon. (Sandys and Son,
Crane-court ; Nicholls, Southampton.

Crow, J., Bedlord-court, tailor. (Bromley, Gray's-
inn.

Cooke, H. S., Lothbnry, stock broker. (Kearsley
and Co., Lothbury.

Choat, .T., Lamb's Conduit-street, trunk-maker.
(Smith, Furnival's-inn.

Cheeseman, J., Reading, baker. (Holmes and
Co., Great James street.

Pawes, R., Knaresborongh, merchant. (Rosser
and Son, Gray's-inn; Dickinson, Leeds.

Dnnni,r,- 1., Oxford, inercer. (Helder, Clement's-
inn ; Westell, Witney.

Debatf, F. J., Poultry, pastry-cook. (Leigh,
George-street.

Dods, W., and R. Moore, Percy-street, linen-

. draper. (Jones, Princes-street.

D'Kmden, H., Upper Frederic-street, bookseller.
(Chilcote, Walbrook.

Downes, B., Manchester, publican. (Hiird and
Co., Temple.

Edge, J., Byworth, tanner. (Helliard and Co.,
Gray's-inn.

Elvin, J., Hautbois, corn-merchant. (Clarke and
Co.. Lincoln's-inn-fields ; Dyer, Norwich.

Fowler, T., East Butterwick, potatoe-merchant.

. (Taylor, Cleroent's-inn ; Hewlett, West But-
terwick.

Fry, J., Liverpool, merchant. (Chester, Staple-
inn ; Riplev, Liverpool.

Farrar, J., Halifax, and J. Farrar, Bradford,
common-carriers. (Jaques and Co., Coleman-
strect.

Frost, T., Lambeth, miller. (Smith, Great East-
cheap.

Faxton, S. W., Jermyn-street, surgeon. (Pain,
New-inn.

Fowlei, T , St. Peter the Great, carpenter. (Sow-
ton, Great James-street.

Grimshaw, J., Rawden, merchant. (Rushworth,
Symond's inn ; Hardisty, Leeds.

Geddcs, J., Demerara and Gracechurch-street,
merchant. (Davies, Devonshire-square.

Gray, J. S., Manchester, wine-merchant. (Kay
and Co., Manchester.

George, R-, Parker-street, stage-coach-master.
(Mayhew and Co., Carey-street.

Greasley, T. and C., West Smithfield, clothiers.
(Galei Basinghall-street.

Grayson, J. and M., Halifax, linen-drapers.
(Edwards, Bouverie-strt-ct.

Hallas, B.,Ossett, cloth-merchant. (Battye and
Co., Chancery-lane ; Archer and Co., Osset.

Heel,T.,Gateshead, Low Fell, drape.. (Shaw,
Ely-place ; Crozier, Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

Hewitt, C., Kingston-upon-Hull, ale-dealer.

(Edwards, Bouverie-street; Stock, jun. .Hali-
fax.

Hancock, T. H., Biighton, inn-keeper. (Corn-
wall, Thavies' inn.

Holder, R., W. Vanhouse, and W. A. Hankey,
jun., Mincing-lane, West India-brokers. (Peile,
Old Broad-street.

Ion, G., Great Musgrave, inn-keeper. (Addison,
Grny's-inn ; Atkinson, Appleby,

Joyce, R., Cambridge, shoe-maker. (Robinson
and Co., Charter-bouse-square.

Jones, Y., Manchester, merchant. (Perkins and
Co., Gray's-inn ; Lcwtas, Manchester.

Jones, T., Cross-street, window-blind-maker.
(Yates and Co., St. Mary- Axe.

Lewis, T., Chelsea, builder. (Watson, Gerrard-
street.

Lees, G., Little Dean, malster. (Byrne, Cook's-
court ; Lucas, Newnham.

Luck, T. t ., Wai worth, laceman. (Hutchinson
and Co., Crown-court.

Layzell, W., Colchester, linen draper. (Stevens
and Co., Little St. Thomas Apostle ; Sparlin,
Colchester.

Little, W., City-road, tea-dealer. (Stratton and
Co., Shoreditch.

Moss, T., Kirton-in-Lindsey, draper. (Bell and
Co., Bow- church-yard.

Morgan, J., Moor-lane, victualler. (Smith, Bar-
nard's-inn.

Morris, C., Manchester, joiner. (Adlington and
Co., Bedford-row ; Morris and Co., Man-
chester.

Norris, K., and T. W. Hodgson, Manchester, cot-
ton-spinners. (Adlington and Co., Bedford-
row ; Jack-sons, Manchester.

Paris, J., Rav-street, horse-dealer. (Towne,
Broad-street-buildings.

Peedle, G., Little Missenden, cattle-dealer.
(Darke, Red Lion-square.

Palmer, G., Epping, schoolmaster. (Young,
Mark-lane.

Pope, C., Bristol, copper-manufacturers. (White
Lincoln's-inp ; Short, Bristol.

Phillips, H. N., Edward-street, Regent's-park,
tavern-keeper ; Cobb, Clement's-inn.

Pinnell, W., Upper La mhourn, farmer. (Walter,
Symond's-im>.

Plan, J., Liverpool, innkeeper. (Hurd and Co.,
Temple.

Pratt, W., Norwich, brewer. (Bignold and Co.,
New Bridge-street.

Riemaiden, H., Liverpool, wine-merchant.
(Chester, Staple-inn, Hodgson, Liverpool.

Ro^s, D., Liverpool, shoe-maker. (Chester, Sta-
ple-inn ; Cort, Liverpool.

Rush forth, R. W., Manchester, merchant. (Kay
and Co., Manchester.

Stewart, W., Liverpool, merchant. (Taylor and
Co., Temple.

Savilie, G. and M., Ashton-under-Line, drapers.
(Milne and Co., Temple ; Crossley and Co.,
Manchester.

Smith, J. S., Bedwardine and Worcester, arlove-
manuiacturer, (Cardale and Co., Gray's-inn.

Shillibeer, G., Bury-street, livery-stable-keeper.
(Lyle and Co.. King's-road.

Stott, J., Bishopsgate-street, oilman. (Carter
and Co., Royal Exchange.

Veal, J., Fordingbridge, draper. (Osbaldeston
and Co., London-street: Davy, Ringwood.

Wilmot, W. G., Grosvenor place, builder. (Free-
man and Co., Coleman-street.

Wright, T., Manchester and Salford, tobacconist.
(Rogers, Devonshire-square; Gooklen, Man-
chester.

Williains,SJ., Bath, tea-dealer. (M'Gh'e, New-inn.

Wilkinson, J., Eamont-bridge. (Addison, Veru-
lam-buiMings.

Wright, J., Studley, maltster. (Holme and Co.,
New-inn; Bartleet, Birmingham.

Webster, J., Leeds, dyer. (Battye and Co.,
Chancery-lane; Holt, jun., Leeds.

Wythes, R. and W., Birmingham, grocers. (Hind-
marsh and Son, Jewin-street.

Wakefield, J., Hinckley, grocer. (Jones and Co..
Gray's-inn ; Jarvis, Hinckley.

Wall, J., Manchester, dealer. (Milne and Co.,
Temple ; Wheeler, Manchester.

C 470 ]

ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.

llev. N. W. Gibson, to the Chapelry
of Arnwick. Lancashire — Kev. L. Coo-
per, to the Rectory of Mablethorpe, St.
Mary, and the llectory of Stane annex-
ed, Lincoln.— Rev. 11. II. Whitelock, to
the Perpetual Curacy of Saddleworth.
— Rev T. Garratt, to the Perpetual Cu-
racy of Talk-o'-th'.Hill, Stafford.— Itev.
<x. Glover, Archdeacon of Sudhury, to
be Vicar of Gay ton, Norfolk. — Itev. H.
W. White, to the llectory of Dolgelly,
Merionethshire. — Itev. J. Lockwood, to
the Curacy of the New Church, Brig-
house — llev. J. Carlos, to the Perpe-
tual Curacy of Wangford, Suffolk — llev.
T. Lloyd, 'to the Rectory of Llanfair-
oerllywn, Cardiganshire. — llev. J. B.
Watson, to the Vicarage of Norton,
Herts.— llev. Dr. Kyle, to the Bishop-
rick of Cork and Ross —Rev. G. Salmon,
to the llectory of Shustock, Warwick-

shire.— llev. C. Childers, to the llectory
of Mun-ley, Bucks. — llev. E. Cove, to
the llectory of Thoresway, Lincoln —
llev. 11. J. King, to the Vicarage of
West Bradingham, Norfolk.— llev. Dr.
G. Chisholm, to be Minister of St.
Peter's, Hammersmith. — Rev. J. Carr,
to the Perpetual Curacy of St. Giles's,
Durham. — llev. T. Henderson, to the
llectory of Colne Wake, Essex. — llev.
W. Wellington, to the llectory of Upton
Helion, Devon. — llev. J. S. May, to
the Vicarage of Herne, Kent.— Rev. T.
Fardell, to the llectory of Boothley
Pagnell, Lincoln. — Rev. J. Biddulph,
to the Vicarage of Liliington, Warwick.
— Rev. E. Lewis, to the Perpetual Cu-
racy of Llanbedr Paincastle, Radnor-
shire.— Rev. Dr. A. Dicken, to the Rec-
tory of Norton, Suffolk.

CHRONOLOGY, MARRIAGES, DEATHS, ETC.

CHRONOLOGY.

March 1. Bill for Reform introduced
in the House of Commons by Lord J.
Russell, Paymaster of the Forces.

2. Recorder made his report to his
Majesty of the 20 prisoners in Newgate
convicted at the last December and
January sessions, when they were re-
spited during the King's pleasure.

9. The lord mayor, and aldermen, and
sheriffs, presented an address to his
Majesty at St. James's, expressive of
their satisfaction at the principles of the
measure of Reform introduced by his
Majesty's government into the House
of Commons ; to which his Majesty
made a most gracious answer. Same
day a deputation of the Livery of Lon-
don attended at the levee and pre-
sented an address of the Common Hall
upon the same subject.

— . Dinner given by the friends of
Polish and European independence, to
Marquis of Wielopolski, the Polish
envoy, and a number of other distin-
guished foreign gentlemen, in order
tj celebrate the heroic efforts of the
Poles.

17. Colonel Davies, in the House of
Commons, in moving for a committee
to inquire into the best means of giving
eflicacy to secondary punishments, stated
that the criminal "convictions which in
1811, were 3,H>3, and in 1812, were
3,913, had in 1JI27 increased to the enor-
mous number of 12,504. In France with
a population nearly twice as large, the
convictions in 1827 were 6,988, in Eng-
land, the same year, they were 11,095 1

22. Bill for Reform, after having been
read a second time, and after 8 days
debate, the numbers were for it 302 ;
against it 301 — Majority 1 ! ! !

HOME MARRIAGES.

In Devonshire, Alfred, Lord Harley,
heir apparent to Lord Oxford, to Eliza,
daughter of the Marquis of Westmeath.
At Foreham, Rev T. W. Gage to Lady
Mary Douglas, 2d daughter of the Mar-
quis of Queensbury. — Hon. A. W. A.
Cooper, son of the Earl of Shaftesbury,
to Maria Anne, daughter of Colonel H.
Baillie.— W. Hutt, esq. to Mary, Coun-
tess of Strathmore. — Hon. W. Towry
Law, brother to Lord Ellenborough, to
the Hon. Augusta Champagne Graves.

HOME DEATHS.

In Bruton - street, Dowager Lady
Scott, 82.— At Brighton, General Lord
Charles Henry Somerset, late Governor
of Cape of Good Hope, and brother to
the Duke of Beaufort—Sir J. P. Acland,(
Bart, 76. — Dame Mary, 91, relict of
Sir P. Nugent, Bart.— Hon. Henrietta
Burton, 6I>, sister to the Marquis of
Conyngham. — Hon. Colonel Ward, uncle
to Viscount Bangor. — Sir Montague
Cholmley, Bart. — Earl of Darnley —
Brigadier-General A. Walker.— At Dul-
wich College, Rev. O. T. Linley, (>(i ;
he was eldest son of the late T Linley,
esq., Patentee of Drury-lane Theatre.—
T. Payne, esq., 79, late of Pall-Mall,
bookseller — John Bell, esq., 86, for-
merly bookseller in the Strand, and pub-

1831.]

lisher of"
tre," &c.

Marriages — Deaths — Provincial Occurrences.
The Poets," " British Thea-

471

DEATHS ABROAD.

At Malta, Elizabeth Jemima, Conn-
tess Dowager of Errol, wife of Right
Hon. J. H. Frere, and sister to Lord

Wallscourt ; the benutiful portrait of
this lady adorned La Belle AssemhlCe for
the last* month. — At Bombay, Hon Sir
J. Dewar, Chief Justice of the Supreme
Court.— At Pisa, Hon. J. K. Erokine,
son of the Earl of Cassilis ; he married
Miss Augusta Fitzclarence, 4th daughter
of His Majesty.

MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES.

NORTHUMBERLAND. — At the

assizes for this county Mr. Justice Lit-
tledale, in his charge to the grand jurv,
remarked, that the calendar generally
exhibited a less proportion of crime than
any other county of equal population,
and that there were only three prison-
ers for trial on the present occasion.

The Duke of Northumberland has
accepted the office of patron of the
" Society for the Relief of Widows and
Orphans of Shipwrecked Mariners," es-
tablished at Newcastle, and has presented
to it a donation of £100., besides annually
subscribing 10 guineas. The Duches's
has likewise presented a donation of £20.
The Bishop of Durham and Lord Prud-
hoe, have accepted the office of vice-
patrons ; the Bishop presenting a dona-
tion of 50 guineas, and Lord Prudhoe
£100. The Corporation of Newcastle
have also presented a donation of 50
guineas, and an annual subscription of
10 guineas.

The opening of the new channel of
navigation of the river Tees, lately took
place, amidst loud rejoicings, and in the
presence of a great concourse of spec-
tators, who lined the banks of the river
and the quays, in such numbers that the
whole population of the town and neigh-
bourhood seemed to be congregated on
the occasion.

DURHAM.— At the Spring assizes,
Justice Littledale, in addressing the
grand jury, said, " he was sorry to per-
ceive the calendar was more numerous
than it had been on any former assize."
The learned judge in conclusion, repro-
bated a practice which he found from
the depositions to be very common, that
of inducing the prisoners to confess ; 9
prisoners received sentence of death,
and one executed for murder.

WESTMORELAND. — The whole
business of these assizes occupied the
Court only 7 hours.

LANCASHIRE. — At these assizes
17 prisoners were recorded for death,
and a few transported.

WARWICKSHIRE. — In conse-
quence of some variation from the ori-
ginal idea of the establishment of the

New Agricultural Society of this county
Sir E. Wilmot has resigned the secre-
taryship— "• But," he says, " as far as I
am' concerned. I shall persevere in my
object, as expressed in the resolutions
of the society of the 4th of February ;
and the money I intended to apply
to that object, through the medium
of the society, I shall apply through
my own. If gentlemen will assist
me, so as to make up the necessary
funds, I shall put one of the original
objects of the society into execution ;
and shall send a sovereign and a half
to the minister of every parish in the
county, to devideinto 3 premiums of 15s.
10s. and 5s. for the three best cultivated
gardens in his parish ; for I am proud
in declaring, that I would sooner see one
labourer, honest, industrious, and happy,
than ten landowners or land occupiers
rich ; and that the sight of a cottager
on a Sunday, with a nosegay in his but-
ton-hole, sitting down to a smoking meal,
the produce of his garden, is more gra-
tifying to me, than all the bulls, boars,
stallions, and rams collected from the
four quarters of the world ! ! !"

STAFFORDSHIRE.— 13 prisoners
were recorded for death at these assizes.

NORTHAMPTONSHIRE. — At

these assizes 8 prisoners were recorded
for death, and u, few transported and
imprisoned The Chief Baron expressed
his satisfaction to the grand jury of the
state of the county, specifying that,
with the exception of 2 cases of machine-
breaking and arson, the crimes were of
an ordinary nature.

LINCOLNSHIRE.— At the Spring
assizes, Baron Vaughan observed to the
grand jury, that "' the catalogue of crime
that day presented to him, was of a most
fearful and unprecedented nature." 18
prisoners were recorded for death at
these assizes, and a few transported.

The following petition has been
presented to both Houses of Par-
liament, by Lord King and Mr. Hunt.
• — " To the Honourable the Houses of
Lords and Commons in Parliament
assembled. fc When a rich man speak-
eth, every one holdeth his peace, and,
lo ! what he saith is extolled to the

472

Provincial Occurrences : Scotland and Ireland. £ APRIL,

clouds ; but when a poor man speaketh,
they say, ' What fellow is this ?' —
The humble Petition of the Labouring
Poor of the Parish of Gednejs in the
County of Lincoln, — Sheweth, That al-
though the truth of out motto be (gene-
rally speaking) true, yet we are en-
couraged, from the consideration of
having a patriotic King, and a change
of Ministers, to look up to your Honour-
able House with humble confidence that
our grievances (when stated) will be
redressed. Owing to the extreme pres-
sure of the times, our wages are now
insufficient to support us, and our fire-
side comforts are all gone. We have
frequently brought the subject home to
our employers, and they have told us to
be patient ; and our minister has also
preached patience to us from the pulpit ;
but, alas I our patience is exhausted.
Our masters tell us that they cannot
afford us more wages, as the taxes press
heavily upon their shoulders, and the
tithes are breaking their backs. We
verily believe their statement is true.
Had they plenty of money, \ve should
all be wanted in the fields ; for, although
the land is of excellent quality, yet from
want of sufficient culture, and having
too many crops in succession, ' thistles
grow instead of wheat, and cockle instead
of barley !' — Some of our elders tell us,
that, when they were young, and went
to hedge, or ditch, or mow, or thresh,
their countenances were healthy, and
their hearts light, and that they even
whistled as they went to their work ;
but now, instead of whistling, or singing,
or joking, nothing is heard amongst us
save the loud lament ! - Our fathers
would often drink the health of their
good old King, George the Third, in a
pint of home-brewed ale ; whilst some
of us, who have large families, are
obliged, even when the sweat is falling
from the brow, to slake our thirst with
a little herb tea, and not unfrequently
from the stagnant and filthy ditch.
Such being generally the case in this the
most luxuriant part of the great county
of Lincoln, we implore your Honourable
House to take our distressed circum-
stances into your immediate considera-
tion, and if it be possible, to take off all
the taxes upon the necessaries of life,
and abolish the tithes; and your poor
but honest petitioners will then shout,
with heart and voice, ' Huzza ! — Old
England for ever !' "

WILTS — 17 prisoners were recorded
for death at these assizes, and several
transported.

GLOUCESTERSHIRE. — By the

report read at the last annual meeting
of the Bristol Savings' Bank, it appears
that the sum of £ 274,725. 9s. 5d., had

been received from its institution up to
Nov. 20, last; contributed by 6,172
depositoi-s, including 95 charities and
friendly societies.

OXFORDSHIRE.— At the assizes
for this county, there were 47 in the
calendar for machine-breaking, of whom
12 were transported, 18 imprisoned, and
17 discharged on bail and acquitted. —
Death recorded against 7-

BERKS — At these assizes 12 pri-
soners were recorded for death, and a
few transported- and imprisoned.

HANTS.— At Winchester assizes 11
prisoners received sentence of death,
and a few were transported and im-
prisoned.

SUSSEX.— The sum of £64,308. 9d.
was expended last year from June 30 to
Dec. 31, by the commissioners for the
better regulating, paving, improving,
and managing the town of Brighton,
and the poor thereof.

Mr. Baron Graham in addressing the
grand jury at Lewes Assizes, said, " in
the present calendar there is, I am most
happy to say, no case of burning, no case
of rioting or tumult, none of machine-
breaking, nor even of robbery, except
two in November last." — 7 prisoners
were left for death.

RUTLANDSHIRE.— At these as-
sizes, the following address to the grand
jury was delivered by Lord Lyndliurst :
— " Gentlemen, I congratulate you that,
in times like the present, the calendar
for this county presents but one case for
your consideration, and that not a case
requiring any assistance from me, I
have nothing further to say."

DORSETSHIRE. — At the assizes
held at Dorchester, 4 prisoners were re-
corded for death, 8 transported, and a
few imprisoned.

WALES.— There was not a single
cause for trial at Montgomery assizes.
The judge in addressing the grand jury
said, " he was happy to find by the ca-
lendar that the county was more free
from recent enormities than any other
county ; there were only 10 prisoners
for trial, and they were for minor of-
fences." There was neither cause nor
prisoner at Merionethshire assizes.

IRELAND.— The state of the county
Clare was thus spoken of by Judge Jebb
in his charging the grand jury at Ennis
at the late assizes : — " The melancholy
and appalling condition of this county-
is a subject which should be well pon-
dered upon. If I were to analyse the
calendar, I am sorry to say I could not
give you an adequate picture of the
extent and enormity of crime contained
in it."

THE

MONTHLY MAGAZINE

OF

POLITICS, LITERATURE, AND THE BELLES LETTRES.
VOL. XL] MAY, 1831. [No. 65.

THE DISSOLUTION OF PARLIAMENT.

THE King has put an end, in person, to one of the briefest parlia-
ments within the last hundred years. We acknowledge, with due re-
spect for the throne, that such is its prerogative ; that the King has the
power to call a parliament once a week, and to dissolve it on the next
day ; that he may proceed in this style as long as he lives, and that no
man has a right to ask his reason for it. We admit all this, for such is
the prerogative.

But by the law of the land the King's ministers have no prerogative.
They are responsible for the conduct of the government. They may
not control the actions of the sovereign, but if they dislike the respon-
sibility they may at all times wash their hands clean of crime by resign-
ing. If they do not resign, the fact is legal and sufficient proof of their
approval of the proceeding. They bring the sole responsibility on
themselves, and stand forward exposed to the full penalties of the law.

Why Lord Grey, a man advanced in years, and who for many a
year had declared himself voluntarily withdrawn from political life,
should be aiding and abetting a Bill of direct and undeniable revo-
lution, is beyond our power to conjecture; Lord Grey who, four years
ago, in 1827, declared that his old passion for " Reform" had passed
away, and that he did not see any harm in opinions to the direct con-
trary of Reform, or in his own words, —

' ' The question of Reform had not been so uniformly supported, nor had it at
present the public opinion so strongly in its favour, as that it should be made a
sine qua non in joining an administration. It was not then because of the right
hon. gentleman's opposition to Reform, that he objected to him as one opposed to
civil liberty — "

followed by a piece of sentimentality, which in its day satisfied every
body that Lord Grey was quite a philosopher.

" Those," said his lordship, " who had done him the honour to attach any
importance to his opinions, were aware that he had. for some years been with-
drawing himself more and more from a direct interference with the politics of
the country. To take a more active part in public life was quite out of Ids inten-
tions. NON EADEM EST ^ETAS, NON MENS !

Why, after all this, his Lordship has not merely reintroduced himself
into public life, but has made his commencement by the most outrageous
M. M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. 65. 3 P

474 The Dissolution of Parliament. [MAY,

specimen of that Rabble Reform which he so pathetically abandoned,
is to us altogether inconceivable.

Among the ideas to which the public are driven for the explanation
of a conduct which absolutely defies all common principles, one has
been suggested, extravagant enough, but whose very extravagance may
make a part of its probability. Where the object of men is to startle us
by frantic projects, no reason can be too much out of the way for their
conduct. The idea is this. The fall of the Wellington ministry took
the Whigs by surprise. It was as rapid as a death by suicide. Its last
furious declaration in favour of the known abuses of the representation,
acted on them like wine on a man already half intoxicated, heated their
Whiggery into Radicalism, and in the joy of seeing office once more
within their grasp, deluded them into pledges of the wildest Reform.

Office came. They had already encumbered themselves with decla-
rations enough to sink any ministry, unless that ministry could throw
them overboard. To throw them overboard was from that moment the
policy ; and the whole invention of Lord Grey was summoned to the
work of proposing some measure at once so specious as to gull the
populace into the belief, that the ministers were the " true Radical Re-
formers " which they had sworn themselves to be ; and so furious, fool-
lish, and unconstitutional in the eyes of every man of sense, that it
tfiust be thrown out by the Legislature.

Whether this be the true solution or not ; the Bill has some circum-
stances that coincide strongly enough with the theory. Why, if my
Lord Grey was sincere in desiring this Radical measure to be carried in
the Commons, was all his ingenuity exerted to remove from the Com-
mons, Brougham, by a hundred degrees the most popular and power-
ful advocate of Whiggery ? Why was he even so much afraid of
leaving Brougham to deal with this single measure, that he thought
it worth his while, to sacrifice his assistance on all other questions,
to deprive his ministry of the aid of the opposition leader, and,
for the purpose of keeping him aloof from this single topic, fix him
for life in a House where his powers must be neutralized, and his per-
sonal influence must be comparatively nothing ? Brougham was pledged
to bring in a Reform, and within three nights his pledge was to be re-
deemed. Every effort was made by Lord Grey to withdraw him from
bis purpose, in vain, until the Chancery was offered. Then the Advo-
cate was transferred from the spot where he was to have completed the
work of Reform, to the spot where every member feels that such Reform
would be but another name for personal robbery and extinction. There
he was safe, locked up in honourable duress ; and the fair field was left
to the wily Premier.

But, as much may be argued from the hands into which the measure
was put, as the hands from which it was thus anxiously and intriguingly
wrested. Who would or could select little Lord John Russell to give
triumph to a measure, on which either minister or party had the most
trivial wish to succeed ? It is no crime in any one to be born without
talents, or to have lived in a diligent attempt to make something out of
nothing. But of all the young men in Parliament, who. have had any op-
portunity of coming forward, this Lord John Russell is beyond all com-
parison the most trivial. As a speaker he is unequivocally wretched ;
want of words, still more, want of ideas, and still more, if possible, want
of vigour, clearness, or originality of any kind, extinguish his claims as

1831.] The Dissolution of Parliament. 475

a public speaker, at the end of his first sentence. His very figure
could be atoned for by nothing but the most remarkable brilliancy of
powers. Meagre, mean, obscure-looking, and awkward, Lord John
Russell creates a prejudice at first sight, against every topic which he
touches ; and it may be pronounced as a House of Commons maxim, that
if you want to turn a promising motion into disgrace, you cannot trust
it into better hands than this little lord's. His only redeeming quality
is his diligence ; and yet, by the ill-luck that belongs to his nature,
this very quality only enlarges and gives publicity to his exposure. It
has urged him to try his pen at a novel, and thereby prove that he
could turn romance into dreary insipidity. It has urged him to write
a history, and thereby shew that he could make the most stirring epoch of
English liberty as tiresome as an old chronicle. It has urged him to the
drama, and thereby displayed a talent for alternate bombast and buf-
foonery, that would have been enough to have brought a better man
than Don Carlos to the block.

And it was to this personage, to whose advocacy, as Heaven shall
help the cause, we would not have trusted the interests of a lame
chicken, that Lord Grey trusted the " grand measure," the " great,
healing, essential, vital measure of Reform !" Lord Grey is old, but
he is not yet either deaf or blind. All men know that, if it were the
object of a minister to destroy a public measure, it would be by the
double contrivance of decoying away an able advocate, and saddling it
with an incapable one. We see the precise steps taken, and for our
souls we cannot conceive any other cause for those steps, unless we are
to believe that Lord Grey has ceased to be the cold and subtle calculator
that he was through life, and has sunk at a moment into good faith and
dotage.

There can be nothing now more unquestionable than that the public
opinion previously to the actual announcement of the Bill in the House,
was that the minister was only manosuvring to get rid of an incumbrance.
The common phrase in the clubs was, " Oh ! now that he has got rid of
Brougham, he will slip his neck out of the collar, bring in some milk
and water measure, and let the House dispose of it to its satisfaction."
Those surmises were so universal and so notorious, that nobody can now
doubt nor deny them. But the measure came in at last ; and to the as-
tonishment of the kingdom, parliament had never witnessed a proposi-
tion so outrageously radical in every point. Even radicalism itself
shrunk from it. Blacking Hunt protested against it, as going too far.
Queen Caroline's Sir Robert, every man who had prided himself on be-
ing deep in the spirit of the rabble, either desired " time to consider,"
and waited " to see how the Bill would come out of the committee," or
gave some such sign of surprise at the enormity of the measure. Then
too, let us look at the rationality of supposing that it could ever be car-
ried in the existing House of Commons. The first thing it was to do,
was to cut away the seats of sixty-eight members. Will any man in his
senses believe that Lord Grey introduced this clause, with the slightest
expectation that the Bill would pass, with such a clause in it ? It may be
so, for we must leave the fathoming of Lord Grey's conceptions to him-
self. But we know, that if it were our purpose to have a Bill inevitably
thrown over the bar, we should conceive the introduction of such a
clause to be an infallible expedient. We cannot get rid of the con-
clusion.

3 P 2

476 The Dissolution of Parliament. pVlAY,

But let us come to the closing scene of the p irliament. If we were
believers in omens we should look upon it as the commencement of a
period to whose hazard, contempt of law, and furious confusion., every
Englishman of a right mind and honest heart must look with indigna-
tion and trembling.

The House of Lords.

PRAYERS were read by the Bishop of EXETER! by Philpotts; the
gift of the pro-popery ministers to the protestant church — Rat Philpotts,
who is now a lord of parliament, with an income from the protestant
churches of no less than seven thousand pounds a year ! God defend us
from the omen !

The House was crowded with Peers, the space below the bar was full
of the public. The strongest agitation was evident in all parts of the
House. On the Duke of Gordon's presenting a petition against Re-
form, Lord Mansfield rose and moved, that Lord Shaftesbury, the
chairman of the committees, should take the chair. On this the Duke
of Richmond, who had ratted to the Whigs, and is in the enjoyment of
a place of two thousand pounds a year, started up ; for what purpose ? to
address the House, to speak to the motion? No such thing. The
etiquette of the noble Duke was pained by the discovery that noble Lords
were not all in their proper places, and that an Earl had been seen ac-
tually whispering to a Baron. We are unacquainted with the heinous-
ness of this offence, but it must doubtless be one of great magnitude,
for it infinitely disturbed the noble Duke's nerves. He failed, however,
of communicating his feelings to others ; for Lord Lyndhurst gave him
his opinion with a distinctness which perfectly surprised the noble head
of the House of Lennox; and Lord Londonderry unhesitatingly charac-
terised it, as " a miserable shift to prevent noble Lords from expressing
their opinions on this coup d'etat.' The Marquis of Clanricarde, whose
name is valuable to the world since that curious affair of Mr. Auldjo,
now interposed for the Duke, and talked as the noble Marquis always
talks. Then rose Lord Wharncliffe, with an address in his hand, praying
his Majesty not to exercise his prerogative of dissolving the parliament.
A few manly words put the House in possession of his meaning, and he
was loudly cheered. The guns were now heard announcing the King's
approach ; and the confusion increased. At this moment Lord Mans-
field rose and reprobated the conduct of ministers in the strongest
terms. " They had placed the country in the most awful situation. He
accused them of weakness ; and of conspiring against the safety of the
state by making the King a party to his own destruction. — What did the
petitions on this table pray for ? The reduction of taxation, of the army,
the appropriation of church property to the use of the state, universal
suffrage, and the vote by ballot." — He had, he rejoiced to say, de-
manded an audience of the King on this subject ; he had told him, that
if he gave his consent to a dissolution for the sake of this Bill, the cer-
tain result of its success would be an attack on the credit of the country ;
on the privileges and existence of the House of Lords first, and then on
the crown itself." The announcement of the King's arrival put a close
to the noble Earl's address, and the King taking his seat on the throne,
read the speech of which the following is the first paragraph. (See
page 583, for the entire speech.)

1831.] The Dissolution of Parliament. 477

"My Lords and Gentlemen, — I have come to meet you for the purpose of
proroguing- this Parliament with a view to its immediate Dissolution.

" I have been induced to resort to this measure, for the purpose of ascer-
taining the sense of my people, in the way in which it can be most constitution-
ally and authentically expressed, on the expediency of making such changes
in the representation as circumstances may appear to require, and which shall
be founded on the acknowledged principles of the Constitution, and may tend
at once to uphold the just rights and prerogatives of the Crown, and to give
security to the liberties of my people."

Such was the last day of the House of Lords of the first parliament of
William the IVth.

The last day of the Commons was equally characteristic. On the pre-
sentation of one of the Reform petitions, Sir Richard Vyvyan, who has
distinguished himself during this session as a singularly manly and in-
telligent member, and who stands fairly at the head of opposition in the
House, rose and arraigned ministers on all points of their policy. " He
charged them with rashness equivalent to frenzy in proposing a Dissolu-
tion of Parliament now ; even if they had no reference to any thing but
the desperate disturbances of Ireland, unless indeed they had made a
compromise with the member for Waterford, which notwithstanding all
their denials, he fully believed they had, though they might bring
him up for judgment, to blind the eyes of protestants."

On this point our readers know that we had made up our minds from
the very commencement of the proceedings. The delay, the silly suf-
ferance, the legal quibbles, the affected employment of irresponsible per-
sons, and of that Mr. Bennett, who contrives to make himself as intangible
as the fiend in the Freischiitz, and yet sets every thing in motion, all
satisfied us of the fact. O'Connell will, we suppose, for shame's sake,
be compelled to appear at last, and then after days or weeks, perhaps
months, spent in the nonsense of mooting points, on which a jury would
have come to a decision without leaving the box, and a government pos-
sessed of any common sense or sincerity would have finished the matter
in four and twenty hours ; we shall have O'Connell discharged with
some pitiful fine, or an admonition to be a good boy for the future.

As to Lord Grey's declaration alluded to ; his lordship's express words
more than substantiated the remark, " that they are well entitled to excite
the alarm of every friend of protestanism in the empire." Lord Farnhanrhad
stated that the Reform Bill would put an exorbitant power into the hands
of popery in Ireland, and would be in fact in the first instance giving up
to it the Irish church, and in the next Ireland itself. To this Lord Grey,
coolly answered :

" If, as anticipated by the noble lord, the Roman Catholic church should
acquire greater power than it had at present, I cannot agree in the opinion that
therefore the union between the two countries would not be maintained. In
Scotland I find an establishment adverse to the establishment of this country,
but no such result followed. In Canada the same circumstances exist without
being followed by the consequences apprehended by the noble lord. And in
many places on the Continent, even in despotic states, adverse churches exist
without any interference with the general harmony. Seeing this, I hope, if
ever that which I should regret should take place, that the union between the
two countries would remain undisturbed."

Let the Irish protestants, and the English too, look to this. The
Prime Minister, who is sworn to preserve the Protestant constitution in
church and state, contemplates tranquilly the supremacy of popery.

478 The Dissolution of Parliament. [MAY,

With him it is merely a matter of political arithmetic. He " should
regret it, indeed/' as he politely says. But if it must come, why he has
the comfort remaining, that the Union may still subsist. As if the pre-
dominance of popery, which is idolatry, ought not to be a terror in
itself to every man who desires the favour of God on his country. As
if the predominance of popery in any country did not imply the pre-
dominance of every private and public abomination, of every abandon-
ment of free principles, and of the adoption of every furious excess of
tyranny and persecution. Would we have Ireland what Spain or Por-
tugal is at this moment ? and yet those are the countries of Europe in
which popery is most in the situation which this protestant premier
contemplates with such frigid equanimity. Every man who knows
Ireland, knows perfectly too that the predominance of popery would be
the extinction of British connection ; that the only link by which Eng-
land holds Irish allegiance is the protestantism of the respectable orders ;
and that civil power put into the hands of the papist would, before half
a dozen years were over, force us to the question of retaining the island
by arms.

But his Lordship's arguments are as weak, as his prejudice is strong.
Does he compare the trivial differences of the establishments in England
and Scotland with the deep and perpetual gulph of separation that divides
popery from protestantism? The Scotch and English profess word for
word the same religious principles, and differ only in discipline. The
Scotch have 110 sovereign lord the pope demanding the first allegiance,
and giving the sovereign lord the king the second, or none. They are not
bound by their religion to destroy ours, nor to pronounce us heretics,
and excluded from all salvation.

And as to Lower Canada, what comparison can be drawn between a
little shivering community of French settlers, under the cannon of
Quebec, overawed by a constantly increasing European population, and
.cut off from Europe by a sea of three thousand miles ; and Ireland,
naming with disaffection and superstition, crowded with demagogues
and priests, and with its shores actually visible from our own ? So much
for the wisdom of Lord Grey. The sects of the continent are still more
out of the comparison. There, but one power exists, — the bayonet. The
government is administered by the power of the bayonet. All sects are
menaced alike by the strong hand; and Lord Grey might as well talk of
freedom in a dungeon, as of the effects of liberty of thought in three-
fourths of the continental states. The whole argument was nonsense.

Sir R. Vyvyan then touched on another point of ministerial conduct,
to which we call -the attention of all -honest men : their notions on the
subject of the National Debt.

" The parliaments of this country had been for two centuries consti-
tuted in the manner in which they were at present ! but if the system
proposed by the ministers should be carried, there would be a mighty
alteration in their constitution, and the people of England would do well
to reflect upon its inevitable consequences. Already had the ministry
which called for this Reform in Parliament attempted to touch the funds,
and did the fundholders think that their property would be held sacred
if the change in the parliament now took place ? He stated his belief,
founded upon the experience of the history of every country, that no new
body of legislators, no new system of government, ever entertained a
strictly honourable regard for the debts incurred under the old one. It

1831.] The Dissolution of Parliament. 479

was idle for the fundholder to hope that his property would be secure
under the protection of a parliament which had been framed upon the
plan and suggestion of those ministers, who had already endeavoured to
assail that property; even if the new parliament were to be passive. Past
administrations were accused of having saddled the country with debts,
unjustly and unnecessarily, and how did the ministers propose to lower
those debts except by taxing the fu?ids themselves? It was of no use to at-
tempt to stand on forms at a time like that, and it could not be well ex-
pected that any one should speak immediately to the question before the
House. In fact, that question was, as to whether the parliament should
be dissolved or not — whether they were to be dissolved because they had
voted the other evening that the English representation should not be
reduced?"

Nothing can be truer. The tax on the transfer of stock was simply
the first step ; but it was a step, and we should have seen it followed up
with whig vigour. There is an idle clamour against fundholders, who are
all supposed to be immense porpoises of aldermen, or cunning sharks of
Jews arid brokers, to whom the nation is committed to pay thirty millions
a-year. Nothing can be further from the reality of the case. The funds
are scarcely more than a saving-bank on a large scale. They are the ac-
cumulation of the savings of trade, talent, and industry, exerted in a
thousand ways, and some of them in very small ways. In the funds the
widow and orphan deposit the little sum on whose interest they are to
live ; and any reduction of that interest would be not merely a gross
violation of faith, which in an individual would deserve to be marked
with perpetual infamy, but it would be the immediate ruin of thousands
and tens of thousands of the most meritorious, friendless, and helpless of
the human race. It is probable enough that even the infamous gain that
might be thus swindled out of the helpless would be but little after all,
for they must come, in innumerable instances, on the parish, and the
money which whiggism refused to pay as a debt must be paid as an alms.

Sir Richard then adverted to another of the desperate illusions played
in the eyes of the people by the Bill : the seizure of church property,
which he justly designated as only the preliminary to the seizure of
rents, and of all other property. " But he would ask, upon what
ground did the ministers imagine their appeal to the agricultural
interest would result in a majority favourable to the measure? He
would tell the ministers the ground upon which they relied. There had
but recently existed a frightful excitement in the south-west provinces
of England ; that excitement had not yet subsided ; it had been so
strong that it exceeded every thing of the kind that had occurred since
the days of the going out of Sir R. Walpole's administration. The
farmers through circumstances had called for a Repeal of the Tithes, and
they had been told that the Reform Bill would lead to that result.
Such was the fact. The farmers, however, supposed that they were
to be benefited by that repeal — that the tithes were to become their
property. They did not know that in this country at no period had the
tithes been taken away from the rightful possessors and given to the
occupiers of the land. The state, or some powerful and favoured mdi-
vidual, had, in all cases where the property of the Church was confis-
cated, seized upon that property, to the utter exclusion of the agri-
culturalist. From the state the farmer would enjoy but little leniency.
With the state for a collector, the farmer would not find matters so

480 The Dissolution of Parliament. [MAY,

easily or so considerately settled as they now were. The tenth was not
now exacted, but the case might be very different if the tithes were
possessed by the state."

From this topic the speaker proceeded to throw out a hint which may
yet be fearfully realized, and which may reproduce exhibitions that
have not been seen in England for these hundred years.

" If the ministers advised their sovereign to a dissolution, under such
circumstances and upon such grounds as he had mentioned, he took
upon himself, without offering any apology, to call upon those ministers
to pause — not wildly to proceed in a course which might not only throw
the country into confusion and anarchy, but might lead to the taking
of the crown from the King's head — and for which, sooner or later, the
ministers themselves would have to answer"

The guns announcing the King's arrival were now heard, and a scene
of extraordinary confusion was produced in the House, by the efforts
of a number of members to address the chair. Some called on Sir
Francis Burdett to speak, some on Peel, some shouted out, " Lock the
doors !" The whole was the most unexampled and violent agitation.
The Black Rod now made his entrance, to summon the House to attend
the King, and thus the first Parliament of William expired in convul-
sions. In what will the next be born ?

We are Reformers to the fullest extent of the word. But we are not
revolutionists. Revolutionists are not Reformers, but exterminators.
We say, abolish every abuse, that is proved to be one ; extinguish every
base addition to the pension list ; give the gallant soldier or sailor, the
old servant of obscure office, whose salary is too small to suffer him to
make provision for his age, the allowance dictated by human feeling
and national gratitude. Cut away the extravagant pensions of ambas-
sadors, and all public men, who have only been too well paid by their
salaries, and who ought, like the men of other professions, to make pro-
vision out of their income for their families. Cut away the Bathurst
pensions, root and branch, and hundreds of others, which claim neither
by desert nor by necessity. Cut away the extravagant allowances to
Lord Chamberlains, and Masters of the Horse, and the Household ; lop
and prune every gross and wanton expenditure, even though the money
may go into the pocket of some coxcomb with £100,000. a year. To
this extent we will go with the loudest of the Reformers.

Extinguish, we say, every borough which is found guilty of bartering
its votes for money ; punish every boroughmonger who makes a sale of
his borough ; destroy all the base and vile bargains of so many thou-
sand pounds for a seat, or so much rent per annum for the privilege of
voting away the money of England. Down with corruption to the
ground. Let a law be passed, sentencing the elector, the elected, and
the proprietor of the borough, when convicted of trafficking his
conscience in the parliamentary market, to fine and transportation for
life ! Let the law put forth its strength and severity, and let the criminal
be punished, if he were the first noble in the land ! But let us not, in a
spirit of frenzy, dfo an act which extinguishes the abuse and the consti-
tution together, cures the diseases of the state by destroying the state,
and pretends to support the cause of justice, freedom, and truth, by a
measure which wades to general mischief through individual vice, and
is marked in all its steps by falsehood, the abolition of long-earned
rights, and the debasement of the higher and middle orders under the
heels of the very rabble.

1831.] [ 481 ]

MECHANISM AND ITS MARVELS.

This is the age of mechanical invention, and we have no doubt, that
before its course is run out, we shall have made a prodigious advance
in the power of man over nature. The railway system is of itself a
great triumph. We are not to be discouraged by the accidents which
from time to time occur in its use, for in every instance of those acci-
dents the misfortune has been fairly earned by the folly or rashness of
the sufferer. Two or three things of this kind have lately happened
on the Liverpool railway. But what is to be expected, if a clown who
thinks he can outrun a vehicle flying thirty miles an hour, is crushed
in consequence. Another fellow gets drunk, and will choose no place
to sleep off his drunkenness but the middle of the railway ; the engine
comes, with the rapidity of a shaft of lightning, and before the engineer
can see that there is any thing before him but the sky, the body is cut
in two. Another clown chooses to hang on the engine, at full speed, as
he would hang on the shafts of his cart ; warning is of no use to him ;
he drops off, and is ground into powder at the moment. But those are
no, more impeachments of the system than the possibility of breaking
one's neck by a fall from a first-floor window is an argument for living
on the ground. Even the more serious doubt whether the railway be in
reality the cheaper, as it is decidedly the more rapid and powerful mode,
vanishes before just consideration. The expense of the Liverpool rail-
way has been heavy, and like all commencements, there have been
errors, and even some unnecessary expenditures in the undertaking. A
railway too, on which the chief articles of carriage must be the bulky
products of manufacture, or the still bulkier raw material, must have
dimensions that can scarcely be required for the usual intercourse
of the country. There may have also been a rather ostentatious atten-
tion to magnificence in the design, which, however laudable and even
fitting in a great national monument, is not required in a mere instru-
ment of connection between two trading towns in a remote part of the
kingdom. But this is of all faults the most venial. We hope that no
London railway will be constructed without a view to the national
honour. It is a nobler monument than all the triumphal arches of
Rome.

We say then that the Liverpool railway is an experiment no longer ;
that it has fully succeeded. The profits may be less than the sanguine-
ness of speculation imagined. But the facts are ascertained that a
steam-engine can carry weights to which no animal power is equal, with
a rapidity that sets all animal speed at defiance ; and that it can do this
without intermission, without regard of night or day, frost or sunshine,
the height of summer, or the depth of the most inclement season of the
year. If the Liverpool railway were not to pay its own expenses, all that
could be rationally said would be : ' ' There has been some rashness or clum-
siness in the details, but you have got all that an inventive people can re-
quire. You have got a new and mighty power of nature; such things are
not vouchsafed for nothing ; and your business is now to bring to it the
observation and ingenuity with which you have been furnished by Provi-
dence for such purposes, and to bring this noble principle, this new reve-
lation in mechanics, into the active and manageable employment of man."
One of the curious and useful results of the railway will probably be
some improvement in the communication of sound. Every body knows

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 65. 3 Q

482 Mechanism and its Marvels. £MAY,

the contrivance, which has now become so common in the shops of
workmen and tradesmen, the tin tube by which a message is conveyed
through all parts of the house, at the moment, and which of course
saves the delay and trouble of sending a servant. Those tubes are
capable of a much more general application, and might be very con-
veniently applied to every house. The principle is now to be tried on
a larger scale. It is proposed, by means of a small tube throughout the
length of the Liverpool and Manchester railway, to convey information
as quickly as in conversation. The length of the longest tunnel of the
Liverpool and Manchester railway is about 6,600 feet, but it is thought
that articulate sounds could be transmitted not only through the tun-
nels, but along the whole length of the railway. Its convenience on
the railway would be obvious, as by a few men stationed at regular dis-
tances, even miles apart, warning could be instantly given through the
speaking-pipe of any obstruction or accident. But the probability is,
that it will be discovered that not only can the words of a speaker at
Liverpool be transmitted to Manchester, but that they can be transmitted
through any distance however great, and with an almost instantaneous
rapidity. The progress of sound through the air is well known to be
1142 feet in a second, and it is a singular fact that the feeblest sound
travels as rapidly as the loudest : thus a whisper has the speed of a burst
of thunder. But by all the experiments on tubes, it appears that the
transmission of sound is infinitely more rapid than in the open air, or
actually occupies no time whatever.

A series of experiments made a few years by M. Biot and other
French mathematicians when the iron pipes were laying down for con-
veying water to Paris, seems to promise an unbounded power of trans-
mission. They joined long ranges of those pipes to each other, so as to
make a continued tube of several miles. The results were, that the
lowest whisper at one end of the tube was heard with the most perfect
distinctness at the other, and that it was heard instantaneously. The
moment the speaker at one end was seen to apply his lips to the tube, his
words were heard at the other. If this discovery should be substan-
tiated by the railway tube, man will possess another power over nature
of the most curious and the most useful kind. The telegraph, admira-
ble an invention as it is, would be a toy to an instrument by which a
public order or any other piece of intelligence could be conveyed at its
full length from the seat of government to a seaport, or any other im-
portant spot of the kingdom, equally in fog and clear weather, night
and day, and without even the delay that occurs by the telegraph. The
sailing and triumph of a fleet, the surprise of an enemy, a stroke that
might decide the fate of a nation, might be the consequence of this
simple invention. And its value would be still enhanced, if in the
course of time, it could be turned to the individual use of the com-
munity ; if a system could be established allowing every body to avail
himself of this mode of communication ; like the Post Office, the in-
tercourse of which was originally established only for the usues of the state
and monarchs, but is now turned to the service of every man who de-
sires to write a letter.

With this project, however, we by no means rank the following :

" Atmospheric Letter Carrying. — A curious model of a tunnel, through which
the mail-bags might be projected, is now exhibiting- in Glasgow, by a Mr.
Read. According to a calculation by Professor Stevelley, of Belfast, twelve

1 83 1 .] Mechanism and Us Marvels. 483

minutes would be sufficient to transmit the Ietter4>ags from London to Ports-
mouth, a distance of 70 miles."

If the Belfast professor can find no better employment for his calcu-
lations, we are much at a loss to know the use of his being taught
Algebra. Here we have mail-bags proposed to be shot through a tun-
nel, for carried is out of the question, at the rate of about six miles a
minute, or three hundred and sixty miles an hour. What kind of mail-
bag must it be which could stand the wear and tear of such a journey ?
we known nothing equal to it except the texture of the Belfast pro-
fessor's scull. But why all this waste of tunnel and air pump ? why not
put the mail into a cannon-ball at once, and fire it off by point blank
stages ? We consider the latter as decidedly the more rational, as it is
the equally safe and much more manageable contrivance, while it has
all possible advantages in point of finance ; and in a national point of
view might afford a pleasant and permanent practice for that meritori-
ous body, the royal regiment of artillery.

THEATRES, MAJOR AND MINOR.

Frederic Reynolds is growing old, and he now indulges us with his
" Reminiscences" in the natural style of age. He fights his battles o'er
again, and makes the most of them both times. But he has no right, old
as he is, to bring all the world behind the scenes, and reveal the con-
trivances of the machinery there, unless, indeed, he is acting on the
principle, that as he was the chief constructor, himself of the tricks, called
the management, of a new play, the principal sinner is pricked by con-
science to make the first confession. Here is a fragment of his king's
evidence, —

" In the event of two or three disastrous seasons, that formidable champion,
the press, always most liberally and good-naturedly comes forward, and offers
to rally round the falling- house. After various sprites, we then bring out our
manufactured novelty — our aforesaid lion or lioness — of course taking care
that the curtain shall draw up to a crowded audience; for if it be a bad house,
the town regularly deem it to be a bad performance. Then, as to applause,
in addition to our rank and file, the dread of closing our doors induce so many
hundreds to open their hands and mouths, that three rounds, and continued
bravos are secured to every attitude and clap-trap. Next, if a tragedy be
selected for this important first appearance, we rely on the never-failing pathetic
author's producing tears ; but having three or four fainter s at command, we
ourselves bring them into action/'

The confessor to whom he makes the discovery is moved to the soul
by its genius, and declares that it leaves nothing to chance.

Nothing, is the answer ; " for, the curtain down, the hackneyed call,
amidst waving of hats and handkerchiefs, is huzzaingly made and ac-
ceded to. Laurel is likewise thrown on the stage ; the next morning
the tocsin of panegyric being sounded in every liberal paper, in a day or
two after, the manager not only raises the salary, but publicly, in the
green-room, makes a brilliant and appropriate present ; next, most of the
print-shops display a likeness of the new wonder, whose defects actually
become beauties; then, in case of the slightest indisposition, bulletins are
issued, and the box-keeper is also ordered to state that e not a box is to
be had for a month/ Such a sufficient quantity of dust is thrown into
John Bull's eyes, that he cannot see any mode of escape, and therefore,

3 Q 2

484 Theatres, Major and Minor. QMAY,

though at last hejinds it out, he comes till he does find it out ; and which
act of kindness is all that is required in a city whose population consists
of above a million and a half of capable customers. ' There — don't you
call this management?' "

Aye, and first-rate management too. With what delightful recol-
lections must the spirits of the " Rage" — " Notoriety" — " Who wants a
Guinea?" — " The Dramatist" — and some forty others, flutter over this
book, and rejoice in the memory of their maker !

Now that we are on the subject of the theatre, we may as well add a
word or two more. We dislike monopoly, as much as if we were the
proprietors of an omnibus, or the Surrey. But we have our misgivings
after all, on the enormous increase of the little theatres. It will scarcely
be believed that there are no less than twenty-eight, of one description or
other, now open in the metropolis and its environs, in addition to Covent-
garden, Drury-lane, and the King's Theatre. To these will soon be
added the Haymarket and the Olympic — and the Lyceum and the
Knightsbridge now building. Here is at least a handsome provision for
John Bull's play-going propensities. But of what calibre will be the
performances at those places. We have no hesitation in saying that irr
nine instances out of ten, they are and will be the disgrace of the drama.
When do we see a single instance of any able production among them ?
Every year they grow worse and worse. Even the actors who pass from
the regular theatres to those places sink into miserable buffoons. And
what else can they become, with such pieces to act and such audiences
to act to ? The passion of the vulgar is for vulgarity, and the passion
of the actors and proprietors of those vile places is to make money by
the vulgar, and of course both the actors and their performances must
hourly degenerate into vileness. The Tom and Jerry school, which was
at first reprobated by the public, and frcm which actors of any de-
cency of character shrunk, is now the school, and the nearer the actor
and the piece approach this standard, the nearer they are to perfection.

Then, too, let us consider the population of the lobbies. It is true in
this the winter-theatres have led the way, and it is one of the abomina-
tions which, we perfectly believe, has done them ten times as much in-
jury, as the money of the miserable creatures who go to exhibit their
nakedness there has ever done them good. Nay, we will say, that this
participation in the gains of a horrid and disgusting life of vice and misery
is one of the causes which seems to make theatrical prosperity a dream,
and brings a curse on the fortunes of theatres. But bad as all this is in
the great theatres, where there is still some attention to decorum, what
is it already in the wretched theatres planted in the midst of the most
pestiferous portion of our populace, and how much must the evil be ag-
gravated by tripling or quadrupling the number in those very places,
as we seem likely enough to do ! We shall have audiences composed of
nothing but these miserable creatures, and the pickpockets who are in
then* pay, or the fools who go to be duped and robbed by them. Let
the government look to this in time.

1831.] [ 485 ]

APHORISMS ON MAN, BY THE LATE WILLIAM HAZLTTT.

[ Continued from last Month.]

LVI.

The greatest proof of pride is its being able to extinguish envy and
jealousy. Vanity produces the latter effect on the continent.

LVII.

When you speak of the popular effect and enthusiasm produced by
the ceremonies of the Catholic church, it is presently objected that all
this faith and zeal is excited by mummery and superstition. I am ready
to allow that ; and when I find that truth and reason have the same
homage and reverence paid to them as absurdity and falsehood, I shall
think all the advantages are clearly on the side of the former. The
processes of reason do not commonly afford the elements of passion as
their result ; and the object of strong and even lofty feeling seems to
appeal rather to the grossness and incongruity of the senses and imagi-
nation, than to the clear and dry deductions of the understanding. Man
has been truly defined a religious animal ; but his faith and heaven-
ward aspirations cease if you reduce him to a mere mathematical machine.
The glory and the power of the true religion are in its enlisting the
affections of man along with the understanding.

LVIII.

We are imposed upon by the affectation of grace and gentility only
till we see the reality ; and then we laugh at the counterfeit, and are
surprised that we did not see through it before.

LIX.

English women, even of the highest rank, look like dowdies in Paris ;
or exactly as country-women do in London. It is a rule-of-three pro*
portion. A French milliner or servant maid laughs (not without reason)
at an English Duchess. The more our fair countrywomen dress a la Fran-
qaise, the more unlucky they seem ; and the more foreign graces they
give themselves, the more awkward they grow. They want the tournure
Franqoise. Oh ! how we have " melted, thawed, and dissolved into a
dew/' to see a bustling, red-faced, bare-necked English Duchess, or
banker's wife, come into a box at the French theatre, bedizened and
bedaubed ! My Lady-mayoress or the Right Honourable the Countess

Dowager of , before she ventures on the word vulgar, or scorns her

untitled and untutored neighbours as beneath her notice, should go to
see les Angloises pour rise I That is the looking-glass for upstart wealth
and inflated aristocracy.

LX.

The advantage of our nobility over the plebeian classes is said to be
in the blood and in the breed — the Norman breed, we suppose — the
high noses and arched eyebrows date from the Conquest. We plead
guilty to the insinuation conveyed in the expression — " the coronet face"
— and bow with some sort of pride to the pride of birth. But this
hypothesis is hardly compatible with the evident improvement in the
present generation of noblemen and gentlemen by the intermarriages

486 Aphorisms on Man. MAY,

with rich heiresses, or the beautiful Pamelas of an humbler stock.
Crossing the breed has done much good ; for the actual race of Bond-
street loungers would make a very respectable regiment of grenadiers ;
and the satire on Beau Didapper, in Fielding's Joseph Andrews, has lost
its force.

LXI.

The tone of society in Paris is very far from John Bullish. They do
not ask what a man is worth, or whether his father is the owner of a
tin-mine or a borough — but what he has to say, whether he is amiable
and spirituel. In that case (unless a marriage is on the tapis) no one
inquires whether his account at his banker's is high or low ; or whether
he has come in his carriage or on foot. An English soldier of fortune,
or a great traveller, is listened to with some attention as a marked charac-
ter ; while a booby lord is no more regarded than his own footman in
livery. The blank after a man's name is expected to be filled up with
talent or adventures, or he passes for what he really is, a cypher.

LXII.

Our young Englishmen in Paris do not make much figure in the
society of Frenchmen of education and spirit. They stumble at the
threshold in point of manners, dress, and conversation. They have not
only to learn the language, but to unlearn almost every thing else. Both
words and things are different in France ; our raw recruits have to get
rid of a host of prejudices, and they do it awkwardly and reluctantly,
and if they attempt to make a regular stand, are presently out- voted.
The terms got hie and barbarous are talismans to strike them dumb.
There is, moreover, a clumsiness in both their wit and advances to fami-
liarity, that the spiteful brunettes on the other side of the water do not
comprehend, arid that subjects them to constant sneers ; and every false
step adds to their confusion and want of confidence. But their lively
antagonists are so flushed with victory and victims to their loquacity
and charms, that they are not contented to lecture them on morals,
metaphysics, sauces, and virtu, but proceed to teach them the true pro-
nunciation and idiom of the English tongue. Thus a smart French
widow having blundered by saying, " I have never made a child ;" and
perceiving that it excited a smile, maintained, for three whole days,
against a large company, that it was better than saying, " I never had a
child."

LXIII.

The Parisian trip (say what they will) is not grace. It is the motion
of a puppet, and may be mimicked, which grace cannot. It may be
different from the high, heavy-heeled walk of the Englishwoman. Is
is not equally remote from the step (if step it may be called) of an Anda-
lusian girl ?

LXIV.

It has been often made a subject of dispute, What is the distinguishing
characteristic of man ? And the answer may, perhaps, be given, that
he is the only animal that dresses. He is the only being who is coxcomb
enough not to go out of the world naked as he came into it ; that is
ashamed of what he really is, and proud of what he is not ; and that tries

1831.] Aphorisms on Man. 487

to pass off an artificial disguise as himself. We may safely extend the
old maxim, and say that it is the tailor that makes both the gentleman
and the man. Fine feathers make fine birds — this lie is the motto of
the human mind. Dress a fellow in sheepskin, and he is a clown —
dress him in scarlet, and he is a gentleman. It is then the clothes that
make all the difference ; and the moral agent is simply the lay-figure
to hang them on. Man, in short, is the only creature in the known
world, with whom appearances pass for realities, words for things ; or
that has the wit to find out his own defects, and the impudence and
hypocrisy, by merely concealing them, to persuade himself and others
that he has them not. Teniers's monkeys, habited like monks, may be
thought a satire on human nature — alas ! it is a piece of natural history.
The monks are the larger and more solemn species, to be sure. Swift
has taken a good bird's-eye view of man's nature, by abstracting the
habitual notions of size, and looking at it in great or in little : would that
some one had the boldness and the art to do a similar service, ,by strip-
ping off the coat from his back, the vizor from his thoughts, or by
dressing up some other creature in similar mummery ! It is not his
body alone that he tampers with, and metamorphoses so successfully ;
he tricks out his mind and soul in borrowed finery, and in the admired
costume of gravity and imposture. If he has a desire to commit a base
or cruel action without remorse and with the applause of the spectators,
he has only to throw the cloak of religion over it, and invoke Heaven to
set its seal on a massacre or a robbery. At one time dirt, at another
indecency, at another rapine, at a fourth rancorous malignity, is decked
out and accredited in the garb of sanctity. The instant there is a flaw, a
" damned spot" to be concealed, it is glossed over with a doubtful name.
Again, we dress up our enemies in nicknames, and they march to the
stake as assuredly as in san Benitos. The words Heretic or Papist, Jew or
Infidel, labelled on those who differ from us, stand us in lieu of sense or
decency. If a man be mean, he sets up for economy ; if selfish, he pre-
tends to be prudent ; if harsh, firm ; and so on. What enormities, what
follies are not undertaken for the love of glory ? — and the worst of all,
are said to be for the glory of God ! Strange, that a reptile should wish
to be thought an angel ; or that he should not be content to writhe and
grovel in his native earth, without aspiring to the skies ! It is from the
love of dress and finery. He is the chimney-sweeper on May-day all the
year round: the soot peeps through the rags and tinsel, and all the
flowers of sentiment !

LXV.

The meaning of all which is, that man is the only hypocrite in the
creation; or that he is composed of two natures, the ideal and the
physical, the one of which he is always trying to keep a secret from the
Other. He is the Centaur not fabulous.

LXVI.

A person who is full of secrets is a knave or a fool, or both.

[ 488 ] [MAY,

THE LONDONDERRY MYSTERY.

High life is often so completely like low life that it is sometimes
amusing to detect the instances of discrepancy. The Marquis of Lon-
donderry's kitchen justice affords a case which we presume could not be
rivalled in any other establishment in London. Here the Elysium of
the West End, the " Third Heaven" of the elite of society, certainly
stands unequalled.

f< It is ridiculously untrue that the marquis, in the heat of his temper, struck
the complaining party; his lordship merely used the means, when remonstrance
failed, of endeavouring to force from the party that portion of the queen's
gratuity which had been given to her to distribute to other of the servants who
were considered as equally entitled with herself to a share of it, in pursuance
of the queen's understood intentions; for the money left by her majesty (which
was £45 , not £50.) was enclosed in a sealed envelope, on which was written
the following words : — ' For the nursery of the Marchioness of Londonderry.'
Of this money £15 was given to the head nurse — the person above referred to;
a second £15 was given to her to distribute to the other nursery servants ; and
the remaining £15 was retained by the Marchioness I with a view to distribution
among other members of the establishment, who were considered as entitled
to a share of it. The head nurse having thus gained possession of £30, posi-
tively refused to give up any part of it ; and thus arose the occasion of the
Marquis's interference. The nurse gave up the £15, and quitted the house."

The first announcement of the transaction was a very plain, though not
very credible, statement from one of the police-offices, of a complaint
made by a nurse in the noble Marquis's family, of certain modes of
persuasion by which he attempted to further the ends of justice in the
distribution of fifty pounds which the queen had given at the christen-
ing of the noble Marquis's last child. The whole affair made a bril-
liant figure among the morning papers, and furnished the friends of
the noble family with " nods and winks and wreathed smiles/' with
sneers and scandal for three dinners in succession. Never were fifty
pounds more productive in the dead time of the season.

At the close of the week came the explanation which <c by decision
more embroiled the fray," making the doubtful clear, and polishing the
clumsy into burlesque. It has the advantage of bringing in a new party,
and the fair Marchioness figures in the family-picture of justice; the fat
nurse has clearly the best of the story still. A contemporary says —

" Her majesty little suspected the sum of £45 would lead to such discord in an
establishment like that which she had honoured with her presence. We are
rather surprised that the words t For the nursery of/ &c« were not understood
to mean for the children in the nursery, and that parental love did not divide it
among the smiling offspring of the noble peer, instead of lavishing it on domes-
tics, who could have no occasion for it."

The reading world will doubtless thank us for rescuing so valuable a
trait from oblivion. As for ourselves, being compelled, malgre, like
Horace Twiss, to confess ourselves not of the nobility, we should gladly
have given the fifty pounds out of our own purse, rather than indulge a
laughter-loving public with the incident — if it could by possibility occur
— that we applied our genius to ascertain, on the departure of our guests,
the precise sum which our servants had contrived to net for their civility
in attending on their hats and cloaks. We dislike the custom itself too
much, to employ ourselves in the valuation of the profits. But of course
a different rule exists for the supreme bon ton ; and besides, public men
have a right to give public lessons !

1831.] [ 489 ]

' THE WHITE SPECTRE OF MALINANZA ; A MILANESE LEGEND.

AT the time when the Spaniards held the government of Milan and
its paradisaical district, there dwelt, on the borders of a remote undula-
tion of the lake of Como, two famous barons, whose names are still pre-
served by oral tradition among the peasantry, and by legendary trans-
mission among the higher classes of their countrymen. Costantino di
Ferrando and Carmelo di Malinanza might, in those times of ever-chang-
ing dynasties, have carried the world before them, had they been spirit-
less enough to remain united; but, like all other legendary barons, they
chose to quarrel, each wasting his own strength in endeavouring to
exhaust that of his rival. The circumstance which originated this feud
was singular. The inimical barons were heirs (in default of direct
descendants to either party) to the possessions of each other : the pro-
spective rights of Carmelo rendered him, therefore, a future usurper in
the eyes of Costantino; and vice versa. Both chiefs married. Carmelo
was childless ; Costantino had heirs. Carmelo now almost loathed his
vast possessions, because he only saw in them the splendid reversion of
his rival ; while Costantino became convinced that his feudal enemy
was daily plotting the destruction of those innocent beings who not
only stood between him and his future aggrandisement, but were the
detested heirs to his present possessions. After many ineffectual attempts
to ruin each other, Costantino di Ferrando succeeded in whispering into
the ear of a jealous Spanish governor a tale of treason, armed vassals,
assassinations, &c, ; and a large portion of the lands of Carmelo di Mali-
nanza were, without much ceremony or examination, seized by the
executive power, and declared forfeit to the crown of Spain. All men,
however, now considered Carmelo a ruined man, and looked for some
proof of his despairing vengeance either against his successful rival, or
even the government itself. But, to the surprise of every one, he
seemed neither ruined nor vindictive ; and when the surrounding dis-
trict beheld both his riches and his followers daily augment, while his
vengeance seemed to slumber as his power of gratifying it increased,
there were not wanting those who affirmed (though in a whisper which
shewed their sense of the chief's mysteriously enlarging power) that
Carmelo had known how to increase, by predatory means, the wealth he
had lost by degrading forfeitures, and that he was only waiting some fit
occasion of public tumult, to burst with sudden and irresistible ven-
geance.

Years rolled on, and Costantino's viceregal friend was succeeded by
another Spanish governor. To him Costantino whispered his suspicions; -
but they were evidently listened to with a cold or a careless ear. The
Spaniards, at this period, were manifestly more occupied by the intrigues
of strangers than by those of their own vassal lords, and more appre-
hensive of foreign incursions than of internal banditti. Nay, it was
said that Carmelo di Malinanza was in secret negotiation with the
governor. The terms of this treaty were appalling to Costantino. An
invasion of the duchy by a powerful enemy was shortly expected ; and
report affirmed that the confiscated lands of Carmelo were to be restored
on condition that he should supply the governor, in his approaching
emergency, with so numerous a body of followers, that the wonder of
every peaceful Castellano was moved to know how the disgraced baron
could command such military resources. Supernatural agency had long

M.M. New Series. VOL. XL— No. 65. 3 R

490 The White Spectre of Malinanza ; [MAY,

been called in by the peasantry as the shortest and most reasonable way
of accounting for a power which seemed to gather strength by each effort
to weaken it. It was not enough to believe that he was the lord of a
fierce and increasing band of choice spirits, who ranged wood and
mountain, and nobly set the paltry dyssyllables meum and tuum at
defiance ; for a white phantom of mist was seen nightly to glide round
the towers of the baron's castle ; strange lights — the usual concomitants
of haunted dwellings — sent blue and lurid rays athwart the lake — then,
deepening to a glaring red, threw a ruddy glow on the opposite moun-
tains. Then the fearful chief had — as usual in all these cases — his mys-
terious chamber in a lone and tall turret, where nightly he watched the
course of the heavenly bodies, and called down their baleful influence
on earth. The spirits of darkness were his agents ; and the night-wind
which blew from his castle brought dire events on its dusky wings. Very
few, excepting by daylight, ventured to eye the castle, lest some foul or
hideous spectacle on its walls, or at its windows, should blast their
senses.

An event which tended to strengthen the idea of Carmelo's inter-
course with the powers of evil, was the untimely and mysterious death
of the heir of Ferrando, in the prime of health and manhood. The brow
of the unfortunate Costantino now began to darken with fearful convic-
tions of forebodings. He made another unsuccessful appeal to the pre-
occupied governor, and then summoned home in despair his youngest
son, now the heir to all his lands, and the sole hope of his still powerful
but declining house.

Brave and noble in person and disposition, Alberto di Ferrando had
been educated in a foreign university, had served valiantly in a foreign
army, and received knighthood at the hands of one of the first monarchs
of the age. He remembered little of his father's country, his father's
residence, or his father's feuds. With the name of the dread enemy of
his house he was not, however, unacquainted, and with generous promp-
titude gave up his own successful career to protect and support the
declining years of his parent. On his home ward- way, he visited the
residence of a Castellano, to whose hospitality his father had recom-
mended him, and with whose daughter he received a paternal hint to
fall in love. The latter injunction was far from being agreeable to the
spirited young chief, as his heart had, more than two years before this
period, taken the unfilial liberty of making a selection for itself, and had
even stood the test of twelve months' absence from the object of its
devotion. That object was no other than Portia di Baveno, the niece
and the ward of his father's enemy, whom (by one of those fatuities
with which legend-readers must be familiar) he had met and loved in a
foreign country, ere the will of dying parents had consigned her to the
care and the dwelling of the dark-browed lord of Malinanza.

The young knight, however, visited, as enjoined, the Castellan ally of
his house ; saw the lady ; found her no trial at all on his constancy j and,
fatigued with his journey, was preparing early to retire to his couch,
when the good baron, drawing him into close conversation, began to
descant on the miserable political state of the country ; and, on conduct-
ing him to his chamber, commended to his special care a sealed packet
to the Baron Ferrando.

The young knight proceeded on his way before cock-crowing of the
morrow. As he prosecuted his journey, he began to think rather unea-

1831.] a Milanese Legend. 491

sily of the sealed documents he had with him. Some indistinct notion
that they contained treasonable matter, half suggested itself to his mind.
He now remembered his host's .injunction to keep them concealed about
his person, and did not half relish the thought of being made the periled
carrier of such matter. Night began to close in, and as his way now
wound along the margin of the lake of Como, he felt more than half
inclined to throw the condemnatory documents into its peaceful waters.
They were directed, however, to his father, and might be on matters
wh'c narrowly concerned him: he would, therefore, at every hazard,
deliver the packet to his hands. This hazard soon appeared to lessen,
when, at a turn in the unfrequented road, he was met by an armed
escort, despatched by his father to guide him to the paternal abode.

At length Alberto's ancestral dwelling was pointed out to him in the
distance, frowning — like all famous traditional castles — on an eminence,
which overlooked the waters of the lake. The rippling moonbeams that
played on their surface were here broken by the huge mass of building
which threw its dark, giant shadow athwart the Como. On reaching it,
a personage of lofty brow and high bearing advanced to meet him. The
young knight, overpowered by unwonted feelings, could only ejaculate
(e My father !" and, reverentially falling on his knees, embraced the
hand of his parent.

After this first ebullition had subsided, Alberto saw more in his
parent's countenance to inspire fear than tenderness. As the knight,
like most young men, was no lover of those whose persons imposed a
disagreeable restraint, amounting almost to awe, he felt for a few
seconds a keen sensation of disappointment. Perhaps the baron marked
this ; for the stern hauteur of his brow instantly relaxed into an expres-
sion that was almost fascinating, and offering his arm, with somewhat of
graceful condescension, to his son, he conducted him to the banqueting-
hall, whose festive boards offered delicate and costly refreshments to the
wearied traveller. During the repast the conversation and manners of
his parent seemed calculated to win the confidence of Alberto j but still
there was a something in that dark eye which did not quite please the
young chief. Venturing once to turn on it a sort of puzzled scrutiny,
his gaze of dissatisfied inquiry was met by a keen, stern glance, which
forbade all further ocular examination. Changing the conversation,
which had accidentally, it seemed, slidden into politics, the baron said,
carelessly, te And what news, sir knight, and hopeful son, from our very
worthy and most prosing ally of Balsano?" — " News, perhaps, that were
better told in private," answered Alberto, lowering his voice. " Our
house hath a fearful enemy, that might make his own of yon old baron's
superannuated dreams. I scarce reck of all he told me yester-even. His
discourse more mingled with my dreams than addressed itself to my
waking senses, and perhaps I had forgotten it altogether, had he not
left with me this sealed packet to be safely and secretly conveyed to you,
my sire." As he spoke, Alberto passed the packet to his father. But he
almost started at the expression of the Castellan's countenance. His
brow was wrapped in a crimson glow ; his dark eye flashed as if it had
been actually ignited ; his lips — partly opened — shewed the length of
his teeth, whose whiteness was rendered more dazzling by a light froth,
which seemed, as in a moment, to sparkle upon them ; while his hands,
as he took the packet, literally trembled with the eagerness of his grasp
on it. There was something so fiendish in the expression of a face

3 R 2

402 The White Spectre of Malinanza ; [MAY,

whose lofty features had, not an instant before, worn the polished smile
of what would in these days be termed gentlemanly urbanity, that
Alberto almost rose from his seat with an indefinable sentiment of dis-
trust, if not dislike. " Sit down, boy — sit down ; what moves thee ?"
said the Castellan, endeavouring, but without his usual success,
to banish from his countenance its darker expressions. — " I started,
sire, to mark the change on your brow when I gave to your hands
that dangerous packet. I gather from the discourse of mine host
of yesterday, and from the kindling of my father's eye, that the toils
are spreading anew for the d irk lord of Malinanza, the hated enemy of
our house and race. O ! my sire, shall this wild feud never have an end ?
Is it not a shame that Christian men should live in deadly hate, like the
unbaptized foes of our Venetian neighbours ? Nay, smile not, father ; I
am no priestly advocate for a senseless and slavish submission to every
unmerited indignity. I am no womanish coward, that preacheth peace
because he feareth to make war. The sword of the bravest of Europe's
sovereigns gave me knighthood as the due meed of a stout hand and a
bold heart. Yet, my sire, I do profess to you that I cannot enter into
the personal, the vengeful feelings, which make the vassals of the same
government and the denizens of the same soil the haters and the
destroyers of each other." — " Ho ! Vincenzo ! call hither our chaplain/'
said the baron, sardonically ; " here is discourse might mend his style of
preaching. — In what school hast thou learnt the sweet meekness that
chimes so well with thy martial gait and lofty bearing ? Oh, thou art
all too patient, soft, and virtuous, to be fitting foe for such a flesh-
inshrined demon as the lord of Malinanza. Dost thou know him, sir
preacher knight ?v — " By person, surely no, as my sire well wotteth,"
answered Alberto, with filial patience — " by fame, too well ; and I
hold him — if report speak truly — for a man of dark brow, and darker
heart ; yet I hold him also for one who hath somewhat to forgive at our
hands, and whose evil passions might with better grace be told over by
any other than by the head of the house of Ferrarido."

The Castellan's countenance softened for a moment without an effort
on the part of its owner, and he eyed the young man with a gaze in
which surprise had certainly the largest expression. He changed the
conversation, however, for a few moments, and then, rising from the
table, took the light from the torch-bearer, and himself conducted his
son to the chamber appointed him. As they entered it, the knight
turned to his parent, and said, with much earnestness, not unmingled
with dignity, " Although, my sire, I have protested against any venge-
ful and unchristian efforts to compass our dark rival's ruin, yet let me
here call Heaven to witness, that I will, as a true knight and a loyal
son, stand by my father's side, even in the most -fearful hour of peril, to
repel every aggression of his enemies ; and that I will not yield to the
loudest brawler against the lord of Malinanza in the defence of the just
claims of our house, and in the firm and bold protection of my father's
rights against all who would abridge them. Let the proud lord of
Malinanza try me, by one trespass on my parent's privileges — by one
effort to bring dishonour on the grey hairs of my sire, and he shall see
that he who was least forward to deprive him of his own rights,
is his firmest, his most inflexible opponent, when he dares to ride trium-
phant over those of another." — (f Now by the bones of all the goodly saints
in Christendom, I thank thee, young man," exclaimed the Castellan,

1831.] a Milanese Legend. 493

triumphantly ; " thou hast restored me to myself — thou hast exorcised
from my bosom strange guests, that had, all unbidden, returned to it
after long banishment. Thou art, indeed, worthy to be my son. I
counsel thee but to one thing, sir knight — look to it that thy power to
restrain the lord of Malinanza squares well with thy bold purpose. "Pis
said he is no feeble enemy, and perhaps he may have resources some-
what too strong even for your valiancy." — " I fear him not," answered
the young man ; " I would defy him, even in his own castle — ay, were
it garrisoned with all the goodly hosts report hath given .him — demons,
robbers, and assassins. I have small desire to exercise vengeance on
Don Carmelo— still less fear to receive the effect of his malice in my own
person. — Nay, nay, my sire — take my armour from me yourself! — and
carry them out for burnishing, too ! — This is making me more guest
than son." As the Castellan prepared to quit the room with the light
weapons of the young knight beneath his arm, he held the torch for a
moment to his own dark countenance, as if almost purposely to reveal
its expression to Alberto. The current of the young man's blood seemed
almost arrested in his veins. Surely it was the face of a demon he gazed
on ! The Castellan approached him. " Good night, young Sir,'' he
said, with a fiendish expression ; " all good angels watch over thee in
these friendly towers j and, be thy waking to-morrow where it may, for-
get not my paternal good night." He was going, but, returning a step
or two, he added, scornfully — " And thou knowest not the feelings of
revenge ? O charming, insipid innocence ! Thinkest thou long to
retain thine ignorance ? Be injured — be robbed — be stricken, hand,
heart, and limb — and then retain thy meek bearing ! I will tell thee,
young man, that revenge is the nearest feeling to rapture of any this
poor sordid nature of ours knoweth. For me, I would sacrifice on its
altar my health, my wealth, my fair lands, and all that ministers to
meaner pleasures. Ay, even such a son as thou (though I am not so
impassable as to close my eyes to thy noble qualities) would be but as
dust in the balance. — Poor youth/' he continued, with a smile, in which
a very slight shade of pity was strangely mingled with an expression of
triumph — " poor youth, if I could pity, I might pity thee. — But good
night, young sir. They say that last dreams are the pleasantest : I go to
pray that thine, to-night, may be surpassing sweet." — " Gracious
Heaven ! what meaneth all this ?" exclaimed the knight, in astonish-
ment, as his father (carrying away his arms) withdrew from the chamber.
The idea that his parent must be in a state of insanity darted across his
mind ; but when he heard a sound of locks and bolts on the other side
of his apartment, he ruslied to the door, and endeavoured, by forcing it
open, to prevent the incarcerating process which seemed to be going on
without : he was too late. He next protested, in loud and vehement
terms, against this unparental strictness : a fiendish and stifled laugh
without was the only answer he received. Complete silence succeeded.
The gallant young chief scarcely knew what he expected — what he
apprehended. He began to look suspiciously around his chamber. What-
ever might be its attractions as a sleeping apartment, it was certainly
strong enough for a prison. Alberto explored a small anti-chamber into
which it opened, and endeavoured, but in vain, to discover some egress.
In doing this, he wrenched open the door of a cabinet, which stood in a
dark and scarcely discernible recess of the anti-chamber. Curious
instruments, of which he did not understand the use, met his eye ; but

494 Tfo White Spectre of Maltnanza : [MAY,

among them he descried one or two eimple machines which could not be
mistaken : these were hand-fetters.

Sensations, undefined, but far from soothing, haunted the brave
knight's bosom; and he stood, for some time, with his eyes fixed
on the moonlight, which, falling through the vertical bars of his window,
streaked the floor of the chamber. " 'Tis nothing," at length he said,
aloud. " My father — without violence to filial duty be it spoken — is a
man of dark brow and moody temper. I chafed his humour to-night by
holding in light esteem the feud that stirs our family-blood. I'll to bed,
and think no more on his strange bearing." He was about to cast off his
garments, when the words " Not to bed, lest you lie down to rise no
more" met his ear. — '• Gracious Heaven I I am in the castle of some
enchanter !" exclaimed the knight. " Portia — Portia di Baveno — can it
be thy voice ? What white form do I see in the moonlight ? Say,
shadow of an angel, art thou of earth or of heaven?" — " Of earth, and a
prey to all the miseries it groaneth under," answered Portia, gasping
for breath, and supporting herself with difficulty. " Hush ! hush ! for
mercy's sake speak softly/' — fe In the name of every saint that walketh
earth and heaven, how came you hither ?" exclaimed Alberto, rushing to
her assistance. — te I concealed myself at nightfal in your chamber," she
said, endeavouring to collect breath for explanation. " Alberto, thy
life hangs on a thread. The proud lord of this fearful dwelling hath had
his wakeful eye on thee, ever since thou enteredst the land of thy sires.
The treacherous escorts that met thee in thy homeward-path were not
the followers of thy father. They wrere sent to beguile thee into the
hands of thy deadliest foe. Thou art now in the castle of Malinanza,
and in the power of its merciless lord !" — ' ' Gracious power ! I see it all,"
exclaimed Alberto ; " his dark words — his fiendish gaze of triumph—-
his parting salutation — all are explained." The knight paused, and,
almost overpowered for a moment, covered his face with his hands. At
length he said — " Alas ! my real, my desolated parent, thou shalt now
look for thy son — thy last hope — in vain ! He shall never behold thy
face, nor hear thy blessing. — And thou, my beloved Portia, I must bid
thee farewell for ever. Thou hast not let my final hour come on me
without thy kind warning. I thank thee. In such coming peril, I
would send thee from my side, thou faithful and lovely one ; but exit is
denied thee, and the arms which Alberto would only have yielded with
his last breath, have been guilefully removed from his stout hand. But
conceal thyself, my Portia : it were ill fitting that thou shouldst be dis-
covered here ; nor would I that thy tender age should behold aught thou
wouldst hereafter shudder to think on/' The damsel drew a poniard
from beneath her white garment. " Alas ! dear knight," she said, in
that kindness of tone which, under such circumstances, was the nicest
proof of female delicacy — " alas ! I know too well how little will avail
this single weapon, even in the hands of thy valour, against the whole
force of a castello armed against thee. But listen to me. 'Tis the fatal
packet that makes thy ruin. My cruel kinsman might not, even in this
wild age and country, dare to lay hands on thee, held he not a fearful
sanction to his utmost violence in the proofs of thy treasonable purposes.
Two hours after midnight, trusty messengers and a body of armed fol-
lowers will be secretly ready to convey thy fatal documents to our
jealous rulers in Milan, with the news that the loyal lord of Malinanza
holds thee in strict guard until their pleasure be known. Alas ! 'tis this

1831.] a Milanese Legend. 495

packet hath given thy foe a power over thee that no fear of future
retribution now checketh. I do divine that his vengeance only slum-
bereth until he hath seen the messengers of thy ruin on their way to
our despot rulers. O ! Alberto, there are high thoughts in my soul !
Could that fatal packet only be obtained, thy hours on earth might, per-
chance, be prolonged until a way of escape, or even aid from thy unhappy
parent, appeared for thy salvation. My dread kinsman hath passed from
thy apartment to his own. This is his brief hour of midnight repose.
The fearful packet lies in his chamber." — " But what power, my gentle
Portia, can remove the bars that inclose us in mine ?" asked the knight
— " how may I reach the chamber of my guileful foe ?" Portia sprang
lightly and softly to the window, and — standing within its deep niche —
looked, in the pale light, like some etherial sprite that had glided on
moonbeams through the casement. She softly opened it. — " Behold
here, sir knight," she said. He rose to the place where she stood. She
pointed to a strong stone parapet, or breast-work, which terminated the
first and main wall of the edifice, and seemed designed partly to
strengthen and partly to ornament the castle. Above the parapet — and
only a few inches removed from it — arose a second range of building,
containing innumerable chambers, some of whose long and narrow case-
ments opened on the kind of breast-work just described. This parapet
offered but a precarious pathway to the slenderest foot, even where the
projection ran parallel with the straightest and most continuous portions
of the edifice ; but it became fearful, indeed, where it rose and descended
according to the inequalities of the wall, or sharpened into acute angles
in doubling the minuter turrets. t( In mournful and romantic mood,"
eaid the lady, " I have often, unknown to the savage dwellers of this
gloomy castello, loved to tread this dangerous path, meditating some
wild and impracticable scheme of escape from the hands of my dreaded
guardian. I now thank the God above, who hath turned the mad act of
a desperate maiden to some sober account. I thank him, too, that care
and woe have made this young frame spare and slender. Seest thou the
casement of that farthest turret ? The lamp within it throws its red
light on the lake beneath us, and disturbs the peaceful moonbeams.
There sleeps my kinsman. The weather is sultry — his lattice is not
closed. Bars like these, which forbid not the passage of such slender
frame as mine, alone defend his chamber. God of mercy and justice,
strengthen me ! I implore thy aid. — Farewell, sir knight — pray for me,
I am adventuring on a deed of danger/' She glided through the strong,
vertical bars of the window, as she spoke — stept out on the parapet —
and, ere the astonished knight could arrest her progress, disappeared
from the casement. As she passed away, he endeavoured, by seizing
her garment, to draw her from her dangerous enterprize : he was too
late. He tried to thrust himself through the bars, in order, at least, to
share her fate ; but the interval was only calculated to admit the passage
of a fairy form, and defied the utmost efforts of the knight to push his
stalwart frame through such a narrow interstice. He pulled stoutly at
the bars, and endeavoured to wrench them from their fastenings ; but
they were too closely articulated to yield to his grasp. He could only,
with beating heart and dizzy brain, watch the progress of the devoted
maiden.

For some time, her way lay along a straight line of building that con-»
nected the knight's tower with a cluster of turrets, in the farthest of

496 The White Spectre of Malinanza ; [MAY,

which she had pointed out the chamber of her terrible kinsman. The
young chief perceived that her face was slightly turned towards the
upper wall, as if to divert her eye from the dizzying depths beneath her.
Alberto began to breathe freer as he marked the steadiness of her light
foot ; but his heart again throbbed with violence as he saw her reach the
end of the straight line of parapet, and prepare to mount it where it
stretched upwards to the higher portions of the dwelling. There he
beheld her crouch — nay, almost prostrate herself, and cling with
her delicate hands to every slight projection in the walls which might
either afford her a protecting hold, or advance her progress. At length
she reached the height, and stood, like a pale phantom of the night, on
the first turret. It was of sexangular form ; and as Alberto beheld her
reach the first point, he could scarcely forbear a cry of terror. In the
dubious light it seemed, when she reached that angle, as if she were
about voluntarily to throw herself from her fearful elevation : but she
passed on, like the gliding and mysterious spirit of another world —
sometimes lost in the recesses of the building — sometimes reappearing
on its projections, until she at length neared the formidable place of her
destination. The knight now watched the lady with augmented anxiety,
not only because her fearful goal was in sight, but because the diminish-
ing light and increasing shadows on the lake forewarned him that the
moon was about to sink behind the castle, and leave its immense pile in
an obscurity which would effectually conceal every object from his view.
Portia at length disappeared in a recess of the edifice. Alberto strained
his vision : — the moonlight continued to decrease : his heart throbbed —
his head swam. Did something white reappear from the recess ? — he
could not tell. The obscurity augmented ; — and now the moon sinks
behind the vast building, and leaves its intricate varieties one shapeless
mass. Alberto flung himself on his knees, and, covering his face with
his hands, poured forth a fervent supplication for the safety of her he
loved.

Meanwhile the maiden pursued her fearful way until she reached the
lower extremity of the dreaded turret. She marked the waning light :
it was ominous — yet still she pressed forward. And now she gained the
parapet, which wound round to her dire guardian's chamber. This tur-
ret was of greater elevation than its architectural neighbours, and con-
siderably overhung the main wall of the building. It was now impos-
sible for the damsel to avert her eye from the awful depths beneath her.
She seemed to look down a dizzy and immeasurable precipice. She saw
the fast-darkening waters beneath her ; she heard, in the silence of
night, their mournful plashing against the grey rocks at her feet. Her
head began to swim — her steps to falter. Darkness succeeded. A novice
in that fearful path must now have perished ; but Portia was not tread-
ing it for the first time in such an hour. She pressed her hand in fervent
but speechless supplication to Heaven. Her courage revived. She
turned another angle in the tower. A red light burst suddenly upon her
—it shone over the maiden's white raiment, and lighted up every object
around her with a brilliancy that for a moment almost startled her, and
suggested the idea of inevitable detection. She pressed on ; she reached
the chamber — the casement was open.

Whatever slight sensations of fear Portia might have experienced in
threading her perilous path, they assumed the character of complete
indifference, or even pleasurable emotion, compared with those she felt

1831.] a Milanese Legend. 497

on beholding the object of her nocturnal adventure — the chamber of her
terrible guardian. For a moment she even marvelled how aught could
have excited her to an attempt so appalling. She held for support by
the stone-work which surrounded the casement. Her limbs trembled ;
she gasped for breath ; her heart beat with a violence which seemed to
render its throbbings almost audible. It was too much — her courage
succumbed ; she could not — she durst not enter that dread chamber.
She cast a hesitating, backward look on the intricate path she had so
recently trodden — it seemed to lie in utter and hopeless obscurity. No
matter — she would wait until the first streak of dawn should, afford her
light to retrace her steps. But, meanwhile, what would be the fate of
him whom the contents of that fearful packet placed entirely at the
mercy of one whose dark passions knew no check in the ordinary feel-
ings of pity or compunction ? That thought was enough. A returning
tide of courage rushed into the heart of the high-souled damsel. She
ventured to look into the chamber. The lamp — whose peculiar bright-
ness was the whispered theme of the neighbourhood, and held, of course,
of preternatural brilliancy — shewed distinctly every object in the
apartment. Portia saw the long form and dark countenance of the
Castellan as he lay stretched on his couch. He was evidently asleep ;
but the expression on his cpuntenance shewed that his dire passions
slumbered not with his sleeping body. His brow was knit, and his eyes
only half closed ; while the partial opening of his lips, contrasted with
the fixedness of his long teeth, gave a peculiar and malevolent expression
to his physically handsome countenance. A tone of malign exultation
played over the whole features, and shewed that the last dark, waking
thoughts of the sleeper were infused into his dreams. The periled maiden
gazed round the apartment to discover where lay the object of her
. romantic enterprize. To make long search within the chamber would,
she rightly deemed, be to prolong the risk of discovery. There was a
table covered with minute maps of the neighbouring district, parch-
ment manuscripts, and ponderous piles of bulky documents. But how
was she to divine which was the desired packet ? How was she to sum-
mon calmness of hand and vision to examine, under such tremendous
risk, the contents of that table ? Again she turned a glance of fear
towards the Castellan. His pillow was slightly raised at one end. Some-
thing peeped from beneath it. Portia strained her vision in earnest gaze.
It was certainly the fatal packet on which reclined the head of her dire
relative ! Carmelo had probably placed it beneath his pillow, less to con-
ceal his treasure than to afford himself the exquisite gratification of slum-
bering on the instrument of his enemy's ruin. <c God of the captive ! I
implore thy good hand upon me !" in mental devotion ejaculated the
maiden. She drew her garments closely around her ; she pressed her
slight frame through the narrow interval which separated the window-
bars: she entered the chamber!

For one moment Portia remained at the casement to recover the breath
which now seemed to be abandoning her stifled bosom. The stilness
which reigned in the apartment was so profound, that she distinctly
heard the slumberous breathings of the fierce Castellan — her own gasp-
ing respiration — the faint vibrations of a pendulum placed near the bed
— and even the distant plashing of those peaceful waters that laved the
rock beneath the castle. As the lamp flickered on her kinsman's coun-

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. 05. 3 S

498 The White Spectre of Malinanza. £MAY,

tenance, his features seemed to Portia's excited imagination to writhe
into wild and fiendish contortions. " What/' half thought the damsel —
tf what if he should really be the subject of demoniacal possession !
What if — even worse — he should be awakening from his slumber !"
She paused. The arms of the dire chief were placed near him, and his
poniard lay beside him on the very couch where he reposed. Rather
like one in a fearful dream than with the steady purpose of a conscious '
agent, Portia stole softly to the bed. She stooped towards the pillow.
As her countenance unavoidably approached that dark visage, her limbs
half sunk under her. Her hand was on the packet — she proceeded
gently to draw it from, its concealment ; but it yielded not readily to her
grasp. She ventured on another effort. Heaven have mercy ! The
Castellan half awoke. He murmured some indistinct words. The
maiden sank to the ground. She saw him, in his partial awaken-
ing, stretch forth his hand, and almost mechanically feel for the object
of his jealous care. Then, with the restless evolution of a disturbed
sleeper, he turned on his side, and relapsed into slumber.

Without motion — almost without breath — Portia remained in her
prostrate attitude. All again became silence. Her eye almost uncon-
sciously fell on the time-piece. Its index shewed that, ere the lapse of a
brief half hour, Carmelo would be aroused from his slumber, and the
fatal documents despatched to their final destination. The feverish move-
ment of the Castellan had now averted his face from the maiden. The
change was encouraging. Without rising from her prostrate posture, she
stretched forth her hand — she again laid it on the desired packet. She
began to draw it forth. The baron stirred not. Providence surely deep-
ened that slumber ! She has gained the packet — she holds it in her
trembling grasp !

With a throbbing heart Portia softly arose, and stole in trembling
triumph towards the casement. The documents were of parchment,
heavy and numerous : they somewhat embarrassed the retreating pas-
sage of the maiden. Her foot struck against a piece of furniture. The
baron started up in his couch. Portia stifled her rising shriek, with
the energy of despair threw down the lamp, and endeavoured in the
obscurity to press through the window-bars.

" Angels and fiends ! my treasure — my packet !" exclaimed a venge-
ful and tremendous voice. A heavy foot was instantly on the floor.
With desperate efforts the maiden endeavoured to effect her passage ; but
a projection of the casement caught her garments. They were seized by
her pursuer. She struggled wildly forward — she was almost dragged
back into the chamber. Faithful, even in her last extremity, to the
feeling which had dictated her enterprize, Portia collected the whole of
her remaining strength, and clinging to the bars of the window with
one arm, raised the other to its full stretch, and flung the packet
into the lake beneath her. A pattering sound was heard against the
walls of the castle — then against the rock beneath : a slight plash in the
waters succeeded, and proclaimed that the fearful cause of such dark and
varied feelings had sunk to final oblivion.

Lashed almost to phrensy by the sound which conveyed the heavy
tidings that his treasure was no more, Carmelo relinquished his grasp on
Portia, and flew to the door of his chamber. " What, ho ! Vincenzo !
Amodeo!" he cried, " traitorous hands have flung my treasured packet
into yon lake beneath us. On your lives lower a boat this instant : it

1831.] . a Milanese Legend. 499

may yet float. A thousand zecchini to him whose hand shall yet secure
it/'

The sudden relinquishment of the baron's grasp in the midst of her
struggle for release, would probably, by its abruptness, have precipitated
the maiden into the lake below, had not her entangled garments proved
a timely check to her fall. Heaven had granted her an instant for
escape, and given her strength to use it. With a courage which despe-
rate circumstances rather kindles than extinguishes in characters of a
certain tone, she extricated her raiment, and clinging for support to
every tangible substance that presented itself to her grasp, passed from
before the casement, and concealed herself in the first dark recess the
turret afforded — secure, at least, that no inmate of the castello could
follow her. Here the damsel paused. She stood to recover her breath
— to listen to what passed in the dwelling, and to wait till the restored
tranquillity of the castle, the renewed strength of her limbs— trembling
with recent agitation — and a streak or two of returning light should
enable her to prosecute her strange path with less danger. She heard a
confusion of voices and busy feet in the castle ; she heard the plashing of
oars in the quiet waters of the lake ; she heard the return of the success-
less adventurers. Stilness succeeded ; and, in the silence of the night,
the voices of her kinsman and one or two of his confidants reached the
maiden's ear. She ventured to draw a little nearer to the casement.

" It must have been a form of earth," observed the Castellan, who,
like many persons superior to the vulgar credulity of accepting a
revealed religion, was the subject of a scarcely avowed superstition—
" it must have been a form of earth : I felt its garments — I held them in
my grap ; and — if a form of earth — then a woman's form, for no other
could pass between those bars. But what woman ? It could not be
the meek and timid girl, my kinswoman. The thought is idle. She
starts at her own shadow, and would dream not of such fearful em-
prize. Nay, as a good guardian, I have ever cared for her safety. Her
window opens not at all, nor does it even look on this giddy parapet ;
and, for her door, I turned its locks and bolts as I passed from the
prison-chamber of yon hopeful cavalier. — Thou sayest, Vincenzo, that
she sleepeth even now in her chamber ?" — " God of mercy ! then I have
found a friend !" ejaculated the maiden to herself. — " What, then, was
that form ?" continued the Castellan, in a deep and troubled voice.
f< Vincenzo, we may not now safely do our work to-night. Lay not thy
hands on him. There be those may now call on us to answer for the
deed." — " Merciful Heaven ! I thank thee ; thou hast crowned my pur-
pose," again ejaculated Portia. — " Dream on, young sir, a few more
hours in safety," pursued the Castellan, in the tone of a baffled demon,
" my vengeance only slumbereth to fall the surer. — Power that rulest
all things, and kindlest our dark and deep passions ! why — why hast
thou placed in my keeping the treasure my vengeance hath so long
craved at thy hands, only to let it elude my grasp ? There is something
strange on my soul to-night. What could be that form ? — Thinkest
thou, Vincenzo, yon knight hath agents we wot not of? I have the
thought. — Melcurio, go get me some half-score of picked men. I will
forthwith visit that young gallant's chamber. I will see whether he
still slumbereth in unsuspecting security. If he still calleth me by my
most soothing paternal name, I shall know how to deal with him. He
may yet give me knowledge that shall crush him and his sire. Not to

3 S 2

500 The White Spectre of MaUnanza ; [MAY,

rouse the young lordling's suspicion, let the castle be quiet for a brief
space. Then come hither with thy force. Follow me with the softest
foot to the knight's chamber — and enter it not until I summon thee. He is
without arms. — Go." The Castellan apparently walked close up to his case-
ment as his attendants quitted the apartment ; for his voice sounded to
Portia more near and distinct. As his eye wandered over the hosts of
heaven, which were waxing dim in the first pale and scarcely perceptible
influence of morning twilight, he seemed only busied in invoking the
spirits of darkness ; and the low, but audibly-uttered sentences — " Give
me vengeance — I ask but for vengeance !" reached the ear of the maiden.
She staid not to hearken farther. O ! could she but gain Alberto's apart-
ment ere her kinsman's visit, what a fatal tragedy might she prevent!
With no other guide than the pale light of faintly- struggling day, she
ventured on her returning path.

Long and anxiously did the gallant and prisoned chief gaze from his
window j but in vain he seemed to strain his vision. At length, how-
ever, a slender form darkened the casement. On his knees the knight
received the maiden, and heard from her lips the deed of devotion she
had performed. " And now, sir knight," she said, with hurried voice,
" your part must be taken boldly and promptly. Withdraw the inner
bolts of your chamber. Throw yourself on your couch, and feign the
slumber of easy security. Above all, as you hope for another hour of
life, shew not that you have discovered the falseness of that paternal
name your dire foe hath assumed." — l( Cowardly and wily traitor ! it
will ask more art and more forbearance than my nature knoweth to hide
from him the feelings which his presence and his guileful title will arouse
in my bosom," said Alberto, indignantly. — ce For my sake, then, for-
bear," said the lady, sinking to her knees. " As you are a Christian
man, and the servant of Him who took patiently the wrongs of his
enemies ; as you are a true knight, and value the safety of her who
hath periled all for you, take the counsel I give you. I will not conceal
myself — I will dare the worst, if you refuse." The knight took the hand
of the lady, pressed it to his lips, and swore obedience. Gently and
respectfully he then conducted her to a place of concealment in the anti-
chamber. — ef God grant," said the maiden, with noble candour — " God
grant that matters, on the coming morrow, may wear such changed
aspect that I may be free to blush at the strange part which fear for the
periled life-blood of a brave friend hath urged me to." — " O ! blush never
for the heroic deeds this night hath witnessed, noble and high-souled
maiden !" said Alberto, tenderly, but respectfully ; — " 'tis your poor
knight must ever blush at the little return the service of his whole life
can make for such devotion." — " Away — away, dear knight ! Remem-
ber I have acted towards thee as towards one who stood on the verge of
this life, and might shortly be the tenant of another world. Time
presses. The crisis of our fate approaches. Hie thee to thy couch, sir
knight, and God speed our purpose ! " Alberto now re-entered the
chamber, and softly withdrew the inner bolts of his door. He then
fastened a light breast-plate to his bosom, and throwing a loose night-
robe over his clothes, betook himself to his couch. The hearts of the
knight and of the lady now rose in throbbing prayer to Heaven.

After a breathless suspense of some minutes, a sound was heard like
that of many feet endeavouring to tread with noiseless stealth. They
approached close to the chamber. Then came a pause, as if to allow the

1831.] a Milanese Legend. 501

sound to die away ere the pretended parent entered the apartment of his
son. Bolts were quietly withdrawn ; and the baron, holding a light in
his hand, made his appearance. Alberto made a motion as of one
awakening from sleep, and strove hard to convert his look of indignant
aversion into a gaze of simple astonishment. — " I crave pardon for dis-
turbing thy slumbers,, gentle son," said the Castellan ; " but our own
sleep hath been strangely broken to-night, and we come to know if thine
hath partaken of the disturbance." — " The greatest disturbance my night
hath known," answered Alberto, oddly, " is your presence, sir father, at
such unseemly hour." — " And this is (in very truth) the greatest, the
only disturbance, thou hast experienced this night ?" asked the baron,
rolling an eye of fearful inquisition over the countenance of his intended
victim. " But how now, fair son ? methinks thy visage is somewhat
changed towards us. Oh ! thou chafest at our uncourtly but very
parental freedom in drawing the bolts of thy chamber !"' — te In verity,"
answered the knight, " I have been little used to be locked up like a
helpless monk or a prisoned maiden." — " But hark thee, fair son, thy
good hand must forthwith indite us some half-dozen lines to our good
cousin of Balsano, praying him to return us, by our own trusty messen-
ger, farther notices on the subject he treats so well of. My hand hath
lost its cunning in clerkly doings ; but here be materials for writing. I
will dictate to thee. Thou wottethso well of what importance this matter
is to our house, that I will not tax thy filial courtesy by vain excuses for
disturbing thee. My messenger must depart ere sunrise. To-morrow,
my noble son, all shall be explained to thee, nor shall my too officious
care for thy safety draw one more bolt on thy fair freedom." — " I pray
you, my lord — my father," said the young man, endeavouring to stifle
the indignation which this treacherous proposal excited — " I pray you
let your good pleasure be postponed to a more seemly hour. I am but a
sorrry clerk, and can only indite my letters by the broad light of day." —
" Sir 'son, I am not in the habit of being contradicted." — " Sir father, I
am not in the habit of being commanded." — ft So — a choice spirit I have
to deal with !" said the Castellan, with a look in which the affectation of
good-humoured, parental forgiveness of youthful obstinacy struggled
with an awfully contrasted expression. fe But come, young sir, thou
wilt not, for a moody fit of surly insubordination, ruin the fair prospects
of thy father ! Here, take thy pen. In filial courtesy do my pleasure
to-night — then sleep in peace, and wake to-morrow to thine own plea-
sure— to feast, to mirth, and pastime.— Thou wilt not?" — " My lord —
my lord!" began the knight, off his guard for a moment. — " My lord,
too ! so stiff — so ceremonious !" said Carmelo, bending on Alberto a
look which might have withered a less stout heart. " Young man," he
added, " I like not thy bearing this night ; I understand not the changed
expression of that eye. Say — speak out boldly — for what dost thou
take me?" The Castellan was evidently about to retreat as he spoke,
perhaps to summon his attendants ; but the active young knight wound
his stout arms around his pseudo-parent. — " For what do I take thee?"
he repeated. " Stay in my filial embrace, and I will tell thee. I take
thee for a coward, and a villain, and a traitor — for one unworthy to be a
good man's friend, or a brave man's enemy — for one capable of betray-
ing the innocent and the unsuspecting — for one ripe for Heaven's
avenging thunderbolt — for the base, the pitiful, the wily lord of Mali-
nanza !"

502 The White Spectre of Malinanza : [MAY,

It must be remembered that Carmelo had commanded his followers
not to make their appearance until summoned by the voice of their chief.
In the strong grasp of his powerful prisoner, the proud Castellan now,
therefore, struggled — but struggled in vain — for breath to summon his
attendants ; while the knight, who could not spare a hand to seize his
poniard, felt that on the prolongation of that strong embrace depended
the few remaining minutes of his existence : the moment when his dire
foe should recover the use of his lungs must, Alberto felt, be his last on
earth. The Castellan was evidently struggling for his stiletto. O ! could
the knight but close for one moment the inner fastenings of that door !
A light form rushed from the anti-chamber ; a slight, grating noise was
heard ; and, ere the relaxing grasp of Alberto gave the baron breath to
summon his attendants, the hand of the faithful Portia had effectually
precluded their entrance. "My guardian angel! God of heaven, I
thank thee !" ejaculated the grateful knight, now withdrawing one hand
from the Castellan, and seizing his poniard. " Now strike, thou paltry
and base entrapper ! I have met bolder and purer hands than thine.
Strike — do thy worst — I have weapons to meet thee." — " What, ho !
knaves — traitors ! come to the aid of your chief ! To the rescue, ho !"
exclaimed the baron, in the tone of a baffled demon. The combatants
made two desperate but ineffectual passes at each other as they spoke.
The knight then bore back his foe, and, without relinquishing his grasp
on him, sprang from the bed.

The attendants were now heard endeavouring to effect an entrance into
the chamber. — " Break open the door !" thundered the Castellan, who
had himself no hand free to remove its fastenings — " break open the
door !" he added, in a dreadful voice. " Use bills — use axes — set fire to
the chamber !" — " No — no, man of blood and treachery ! thine hour is
come !" exclaimed Alberto, relinquishing his hold on the baron, and
placing his back against the door. The knight held the point of his
weapon to the ground. Though well acquainted with the arts of single
combat, the now furious Castellan could not resist the tempting sight of
his foeman's exposed bosom : he made a desperate thrust at Alberto,
leaving his own body unguarded. The knight's poniard was raised with
the quickness of the lightning's flash. He struck off the weapon of his
adversary ; and, ere the Castellan had time to recover guard, his captive's
weapon drank to its very hilt the life-blood of that dark and treacherous
bosom !

Carmelo di Malinanza stood for one moment like a scathed spirit of
darkness — then fell with a violence that sent forth the crimson stream of
life in a gushing tide from his deep and mortal wound. He was in the
convulsions of death. A dead silence followed. The generous knight
and the maiden instantly knelt over him. " His dark soul is passing,"
said the young man, solemnly. " Turn thee away, my gentle deliverer,
from such unfitting sight." — " God of mercy ! and he must die without
ghostly aid," exclaimed the maiden, horror-stricken. " O ! dear and true
knight, on my bended knees I praise God for thy victory ; but, as a
generous foeman, use it for the weal of thy fallen enemy. Thou art now
lord of this dread castle. O ! use thy new authority to get spiritual help
for this dying man — it may not yet come too late !" The attendants,
perceiving the sudden stilness in the chamber, and uncertain which com-
batant had gained the advantage, now deemed a neutral conduct the most
politic, and therefore ceased their efforts to force an entrance into the

1831.] a Milanese Legend. 503

apartment. The knight arose, and went to the door. — " Vassals arid
retainers !v he said,, speaking through it with dignity, " / now am lord
of this castle. Your Castellan I have vanquished in fair combat, and in
defence of my life, which some of you well wot was most unjustly prac-
tised on. In the name of your master, my father, I publish a pardon to
all who have aided their chief in this foul design, on condition that
they now acknowledge my authority and execute my orders. Refuse —
and you will expose yourselves to the vengeance of a powerful master,
and an incensed parent. Go — and instantly summon ghostly and
physical aid to your dying chief."

The knight opened the door as he spoke, and presented himself, with
fearless brow and firm mien, to his new followers. One glance into that
chamber was sufficient for the menials. They beheld their dreaded chief
in the struggles of death ; they marked the high and confident authority
of the knight's bearing. Like all politicians, their part was soon taken.
They at once turned their back on the fallen potentate, and recognized
the power of the successful claimant on their homage ; and the young
man, so lately a captive on the verge of everlasting fate, beheld himself
lord of the dwelling that had, a few minutes before, been his prison —
conqueror of him who had so recently held him in his power — and pos-
sessor of the lady whom, on the preceding evening, he had deemed
immeasurably separated from him !

As the vassals flew to execute the humane orders of the knight, the
news of this change of dynasty spread fast and wide through the castle.
Domestics thronged towards the tragic chamber, and a shout of " Long
live the lord of Ferrando ! Long live the brave knight of Ferrando !
Long live our new chief !" arose from the former slaves of the terrible
baron of Malinanza.

The sound which proclaimed the ruin of all those darling and deadly
schemes for which he had sacrificed soul and body, seemed to recal the
passing spirit of the fallen Castellan. A dreadful flush, like the last red
gleam of a baleful comet ere it sets in night, wrapped for a moment his
whole countenance, and seemed to rekindle the eye that death had almost
extinguished. He half raised his head, and turned on the knight and
the maiden — who, side by side, were kneeling over him — such a concen-
trated look of dark hatred, wild anguish, and unutterable despair, that
the cheek of Portia waxed pale with horror. That flush died away. The
shades of death succeeded. The last dews of struggling nature burst
from the high forehead of the expiring Castellan ; the momentary kind-
ling of his eye was soon lost in the dim and rayless gaze that precedes
dissolution. His countenance grew stiff and pale — his head fell — the
dark spirit passed to its eternal doom — and the haughty, vindictive, and
once terrible lord of Malinanza was now only a powerless and undreaded
corpse !

[ 504 ] [MAY,

THE H&NSE TOWNS.

THE greater part of the life of Charlemagne had been spent in efforts
to subdue the north ; and, with the usual effect of the mere war of am-
bition, he found that his labours and even his triumphs ended in at once
exhausting his own force, and increasing the force of his enemy. The
vigour and activity necessary for resistance to a monarch and warrior
who carried the whole south and west of Europe in his train, rapidly
brought out the latent powers of the barbarous tribes ; and partially
broken as the nations round the Baltic were by this incessant war, they
had acquired habits of industry, self-dependence, and political union,
which, at the death of Charlemagne, placed them in a position to become
conquerors in their turn.

The vices and follies which finally broke down the empire of Charlemagne,
relievefl the north of the only rival which it had to dread ; and the nature
of the country — watered by large rivers, indented by bays, and, above
all, containing in its bosom the Baltic — turned the popular attention to
commerce: But a still more powerful influence civilized the people.
Charlemagne had planted Christianity among them ; and rude as was
the Christianity of Charlemagne, and suspicious as all religion must be
when planted by the sword, its better spirit gradually made way among
their institutions. Its first result was in reconciling those half-savage
tribes to each other. The missionary passing through the camps of the
wild sons of violence and plunder, offered to them the sight of a being
whose principles and life were regulated on grounds totally distinct from
their own, and who forced their respect without the hazardous and san-
guinary distinctions of war. Where the monastery rose among them,
they saw a building nobler than any of their castles, tenanted with a
crowd of men, living together in quiet ; opulent by their superior intel-
ligence and industry ; surrounded by lands whose cultivation and beauty
shamed the neglected and barren state of their own ; masters of a rank
of knowledge to wThich the barbarian, in all ages, bows down, if not with
superstitious fear, with wonder and reverence ; and this whole splendid
community sustained by a declared adherence to the precepts of peace.
The worship of the sword was thus rapidly approaching its close. Men
discovered that all the best advantages of life might be not merely more
rapidly obtained, but more fully enjoyed and more securely held, by
abandoning the old career of fury and rapine ; and from that hour the
spell of barbarism was broken. The peasantry nocked round the walls
of the convent, where they received not only spiritual wisdom, but
assistance in their difficulties, medicine, food, and clothing, education in
their ignorance, and not unfrequently protection against the outrages of
their lords. They next built a village round the monastery. The village
grew to a town ; its opulence, or the funds of the monastery, purchased
the right of self-government from the feudal sovereign ; and a little
republic was thus formed, guided by a wisdom which was not to be
found in the councils of idle and brute barons ; and urged on to opu-
lence by that resistless animation and judgment, invariably belonging to
a state of a society where every man is free to follow the bent of his own
genius, and every man is secure in the fruits of his labour.

Before the end of the thirteenth century; Europe was studded with
those privileged cities. They were to be found along the shores of every
sea, on the banks of every great river, in every spot where the productive

1831. j The Hanse Towns. 505

industry of man could be expended to the highest advantage. They
were to be found on the Danube, the Rhine, the Elbe, and the Vistula ;
on the borders of the Baltic and the Mediterranean. While the rest of
Europe lay reduced almost to its primitive barbarism under a race of
dissolute and impoverished princes, those were the arteries which
gathered and sent life through the frame. Even war owed its science and
its laws to those cities of peace. " Forced to raise troops for their defence
against the rapine of their sovereigns, their chief citizens officered their
armies, and, transferring the sense of justice and civilization even to the
camp, they gradually constructed that code of arms which, rendering
due honour to the virtues even of an enemy, has eminently tended to
ennoble the principles^and mitigate the horrors of war.

But as the intelligence of the privileged cities increased, they disco-
vered that another important step remained to be taken for their security
against the sovereigns. The deposition of the Emperor Frederic II. had
thrown Germany into confusion. Some of the commercial towns on the
Rhine were surprised and plundered by the vagrant soldiery. The other
Rhenish towns, indignant at this outrage, adopted the cause of their bre-
thren. An alliance was instantly proposed ; and, in 1255, the first con-
federacy, an " alliance for ever," of no less than sixty Rhenish towns,
was published to Europe.*

Hamburgh is said to have been founded in the ninth century by Char-
lemagne, who placed in it a garrison to watch the more than doubtful
fidelity of his Saxon subjects ; but its situation 011 the Elbe soon gave it
a higher rank, and it shared largely in all the commercial opulence of
the time. Lubeck and Bremen, founded probably in the following cen-
tury, distinguished themselves by the daring spirit with which their
mariners ventured on the long voyage to Norway ; the skill with which
they navigated the Sound, then a scene of fabulous perils ; and the
wealth and the wonders which they contrived to bring back from the
Russian provinces, then the peculiar seat of witchcraft, and the terrors
of a superstition mingled of the wildest tales of Europe and Asia.

But it was that grand stimulant of nations, the Crusades, that showered
gold on the north. The German chieftains, summoned by their empe-
ror, and retaining their hereditary love of war, more than vied with the
enthusiasm of the south in embracing the sacred cause. But they were
poor, and the money and the ships of the commercial cities were essen-
tial to their enterprize. The greater part of those gallant champions left
their remains in Palestine. The ships alone returned, and they brought
back the precious cargoes of the east, the knowledge of the Mediterra-
nean navigation, the passion for luxuries hitherto unknown, and the
determination to share this brilliant traffic with its masters, the Venetians
and Genoese. The success of the Crusades had thus far aided the north-
ern towns. Their failure was the next thing necessary to the success of
commerce. The event soon occurred. The Saracens and their climate,
the expense of the armaments, and the jealousies of the princes, broke
down the passion of the Crusaders for triumphs in Asia. But their valour
must be employed. A simpler crusade lay before their eyes. Saxony,
Denmark, Prussia, almost the whole coast of the Baltic, were still
heathen. The Knights of the Cross were let loose among them : their
cabins were burnt, their harvests seized, their warriors put to the sword.

* Mallet, Histoire de la L. H.
M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 65. 3 T

506 The Hanse Towns. [MAY,

The cause was finally victorious ; but the land was a wilderness once
more. It must be filled. Colonies of civilized Germans were marched
into the fields which had been tenanted by the fallen tribes ; walls and
towns were built ; ships and harbours followed j and those settlements
in the desart soon rose into the rank of members of the great commer-
cial league.

At Cologne, in 1364, was held the first general assembly of deputies.
This assembly gives an extraordinary idea of the extent and power to
which the association had arrived in an age antecedent to nearly all the
chief discoveries of European science, to all regular polity, and all gene-
ral knowledge. It represented the principal cities of the immense shore
spreading from the Scheld to Livonia. The cities of the interior eagerly
solicited leave to send deputies, and the assembly laid down the laws
of commercial empire. It is on this occasion that we find the phrase
Hanse Towns first applied to the league. In the Low Dutch, hanse
signifies a corporation ; and the word itself is presumed to be a corrup-
tion of hands — the natural and common emblem of united strength or
fidelity. It had been used before by Hamburgh and Lubeck, in the
charter granted to their factory in London, by Henry II., in 1 267. But
it was now* applied to the whole association, and henceforth superseded
every minor title.

The assembly had been summoned by the necessity of providing for
war against Denmark, once the head of the piratical states, and now
evidently extending its ambition to the overthrow of the Hanseatic pri-
vileges, and, as the natural consequence, to the seizure of northern sove-
reignty. All history is but a repetition of the same men and things ;
and Valdemar the Third, the King of Denmark, might have been a
prototype of Napoleon, in his love of conquest, his successes, and his
double flight from the throne. Valdemar had found Denmark fallen
from its ancient supremacy, and he determined to raise it to a supremacy
still higher than it had ever attained. But in a realm intersected every-
where by great waters, he could do nothing without a fleet ; he created
one. Wisby, a city in the Isle of Gothland, had grown to singular
opulence by being the depot of the chief trade between the Hanse Towns
and the North. It had acquired a still more honourable distinction by
being the cradle of that code of maritime law on which the chief codes of
commercial Europe have since been constructed, and which has earned
the praise of all the great civilians. But the pirate king saw nothing in this
celebrated spot but its wealth and its weakness. He made a sudden de-
scent on the coast, under pretext of assisting the Swedish king, whose
yoke the citizens had thrown off. The place was stormed, the people
were mercilessly slaughtered, and Valdemar carried off a booty which,
in those days, was equivalent to the possession of a kingdom. But a
formidable reverse soon followed. In the destruction of the city, every
commercial establishment of the North felt a wound; their goods had
been carried away, their merchants and agents slain, and their privileges
insulted and annulled. The whole Hanseatic alliance instantly prepared
for war. Holstein, Bremen, Lubeck, Hamburgh, the Prussian ports, the
whole trading republic, strained every effort for retribution. They sailed
for Gothland with a large fleet, and swept every thing before them.
Gothland was taken, Wisby was freed from the presence of the pirates,
the Danish fleet was beaten in sight of its own capital, and Valdemar was
driven to demand a truce.

1831. ] . The Hanse Towns. 507

But a new source of alarm roused the war again. Valdemar despair-
ing of the seizure of the Baltic by arms, attempted it by intrigue, and
gave his daughter, the famous Margaret, the Semiramis of the North, to
Haquin, heir of the crowns of Sweden and Norway. This extraordinary
union of power in the hands of an enemy, so active and inveterate as the
Danish king, would have exposed the Free States to imminent hazard.
The merchants of the league, had already become warriors, they now be-
came diplomatists. Their first act was to raise an insurrection in Sweden,
which finally deposed its king. Their next was to prevent the elevation
of his son to the throne, by giving it to Albert, Duke of Meckienbourg.
Their fleet put to sea at the same time, and Valdemar, thus cut off from
land and sea, had no resource but to fly for his life.

Human nature may rejoice in this triumph, for it was the triumph of
intelligence, manliness, and a sense of right, over plunder, cruelty, and
wrong. But the vigour which man learns when left to the natural
workings of his own understanding, was still more conspicuous in the
progress of the war. Valdemar had fled to the Emperor, Charles the
Fourth, and a succession of haughty decrees were issued against the
League. But the merchants persevered, in defiance of the Imperial au-
thority. The pope launched his bulls against the League, and excommu-
nicated all who bore arms against the will of Charles. Yet, in an age of
profound superstition, when the pope was supreme monarch of Europe,
and when its kings were proud to hold his stirrup, the bold traders of
the Elbe and the Baltic listened with disdain, or answered with open
defiance, to the anathemas of a throne which never forgave, and which
combined in itself more of the elements of power than any sovereignty
ever witnessed by man.

It was to counteract the imperial and papal hostility that the cele-
brated conference of Cologne was summoned, and the Hanseatic League
first assumed its complete form. Seventy-seven cities subscribed to the
declaration of war against the King of Denmark. The declaration was
followed with military promptitude. While their troops and fleets pur-
sued Valdemar with open war, their money and influence raised insurrec-
tions in his territories and those of his allies. The League, inflamed by vic-
tory, at length loftily declared its determination to dismember the Danish
kingdom, which still extended largely over the provinces to the south of
the Baltic. They sent expeditions against the coasts of Scania and Zea-
land, took Copenhagen by storm, and laid it waste, seized on Elsineur,
and were thus complete masters of the entrance of the Baltic. But
while war thus thundered round the shores of the inland sea, and threw
Sweden and Denmark equally into terror, a new fleet swept the Danes
from the ocean, ranged the coast of Norway, where Haquin now reigned,
landed at all points, and ravaged the whole sea line. Two hundred
towns or villages were burned ; and hostilities were pursued until the
king, on the point of seeing his capital fall into the hands of those bold
and irresistible avengers, renounced his right to the Swedish throne, re-
cognized Albert of Meckienbourg as king, and submitted to all the com-
mercial claims and privileges of the League. Valdemar fled from Den-
mark, and was driven, like a mendicant, to solicit subsistence from the
German dukes. The regency of Denmark gave up the fortresses of
Scania as an indemnity for the plunder of Wisby, and Valdemar, as a last
humiliation, subscribed to this treaty, before he was suffered again to set
foot within his kingdom. Emergencies often make men, and among the

3 T 2

508 The Hanse Towns. [MAY,

most honourable testimonies to the spirit of commerce was, that it had
made officers and councillors, who without the usual training of camps
and cabinets, were found capable of conducting the greatest transactions
of public life. The fleets of Lubeck were commanded by two senators,
Attendant! and More. Their general was Warendorf, the son of a burgo-
master. He fell gloriously in the moment of victory, and his country-
men raised a monument to him in one of their principal churches, where
lie stood for many an age in a Roman helmet and cuirass, and with a
fame not unworthy of the distinction.

Nations are sometimes driven by necessity to the discovery of prin-
ciples which long elude philosophy. One of the latest doctrines of poli-
tical ceconomy is, that the most profitable traffic is the one nearest home.
The first efforts of the Hanseatics had been to share the splendid profits
of Venice and Genoa in the Mediterranean trade. They soon succeeded
in obtaining a share. But it was found that the length and hazards of
the voyage were more than equivalent to its advantages. The vessel,
sailing from the Baltic or the Elbe, did not return for a year. It thus
became necessary to find a nearer port. The Low Countries, in their
liberty, industry, and commercial habits, offered the true site for this
central establishment, and Bruges was fixed on for the grand depot of
the Baltic and the Mediterranean.

But the history of commerce is a detail of all the improvements that
have shaped the modern mind of Europe. Perhaps two of the finest expe-
dients of civilization are Insurance and Bills of Exchange. Yet the former
of those was in activity in Bruges even in the beginning of the 14th cen-
tury; and the system of bills of exchange, a simple yet admirable effort
of human ingenuity, from which the principal liberties of Europe arose,
and which, beyond all other human inventions, gave the invaluable
power of escaping from the hands of a tyrant, was brought almost to its
perfection within the walls of this Flemish town.

Before the middle of the fourteenth century the League had risen to
the highest pitch of prosperity. It was destined to feel the symptoms
of decline long before its close. On the death of Valdemar, his daughter
Margaret placed her son Olaus on the thrones of Denmark and Norway.
An insurrection against Albert, the unpopular king of Sweden, drove
him from his throne, which the nation offered to Margaret. The League,
dreading this new accumulation of power in one line, immediately armed;
and, in their rage, singularly forgetting the first principles of the com-
mercial state, let loose a whole swarm of pirates upon the dominions of
Margaret. But those robbers, who were named Vitalians, or the Vic-
tuallers, from their having been originally employed in provisioning the
besieged towns, soon turned upon their masters. The Hanseatic ships
offered a spoil which was not to be looked for among the meagre cargoes
of the impoverished ports of Sweden ; every day brought accounts of
some new excesses, and the League was finally forced to a compromise
with Margaret, in order to stop a war which was destroying themselves.
Albert, deserted by his last support, was now forced to abdicate, and by
the memorable " Union of Calmar"* the three crowns were supposed to
be laid on one brow for ever !

The brevity of those " eternal" arrangements in politics is prover-
bial ; and the death of this great princess threatened her System with

* 1397.

1831.] The Hanse T&ivns. 509

immediate dissolution. Her policy had been bold, but temperate ; that
of Eric, her successor, was at once feeble and violent. The Swedes, by
nature a singularly restless people, soon declared themselves neglected for
the Danes. The Danes pronounced that they were robbed with impunity
by the Hanseatic monopolists. The Norwegians were jealous of both,
and demanded why they should pay obedience to a king who scorned
their crown, and who never visited their capital ? As if only for the
purpose of embarrassing himself inextricably, Eric made war on the
Count of Holstein, by whose military skill he was perpetually baffled.
He provoked the Hanseatics by impeding the herring fishery, and he
alienated the German princes by the alternate indolence and rashness of
his character. The internal dissensions of the League alone prevented
them from now wrenching the tyrant from his throne. But he was not
to escape the natural fate of weakness and guilt in high places. The
Swedish revolt was renewed under more active auspices. Denmark
declared itself beggared by his wars and personal waste. Eric in
vain attempted to save himself, by making peace with Holstein, after
nine years of ruinous hostility. With equally fruitless effect he aban-
doned to the League all its monopolies. The cry of his people still
arose, that he was unfit to reign ; until with his mistress, Cecilia, not
less obnoxious than himself, and with whatever wealth he could seize,
he retired into Gothland. Denmark gave its crown to Christopher,
Duke of Bavaria, a son of Eric's sister. The exiled monarch, in wrath,
poverty, or despair, turned pirate, and robbed all nations in his exile,
as he had robbed his subjects on his throne. This career could not be
suffered long : he fled from Gothland, and shortly after died in Pome-
rania, obscure and scorned.

The League had already shewn that it was equal to the highest efforts
in the struggle for its rights. But there was reserved for it a yet loftier
display for the rights of others. Sweden, whose remoteness from the stir-
ring scenes of Europe, and whose barrenness have never saved it from the
whole wild game of ambition, intrigue, tyranny, and war — Sweden, the
country of revolution, was now suffering under the sternest calamity
which can afflict the heart of a proud and gallant people. Christiern
the Dane, who, even among his own people, had earned for himself the
title of Christiern the Bad, had suddenly marched an army of mer-
cenaries into Sweden, surprised its forces, seized the young heir to the
throne, Gustavus Vasa, and mastered the country, which he delivered
over to the savage licence of his soldiery.

It is for the honour of human nature that there is a point at which
oppression works its own ruin. The peasants met in their morasses and
mountains, the nobles, as each could elude the vigilance of the tyrant,
joined them ; insurrection burst out, and, to complete the peril of the
Danes, the young Gustavus escaped from the place of his confinement,
and was declared leader of the patriots of Sweden. But the source
of this heroic resistance was found in the counting-houses of the League.
Hatred of the tyrant, fear of the result of accumulating the power of
three crowns on his head, and not less the natural compassion which
men of intelligent and civilized minds feel for undeserved misfortune,
were motives which roused the whole energy of the Hanse Towns.
They sent a fleet into the Baltic, assisted Gustavus in his escape, sup-
plied him with money, and were rewarded for their efforts, by seeing the
dreaded Union of Calmar* totally and finally dissolved.

« 1520.

510 TheHanse Towtii. [MAY,

History has no nobler office than that of shewing the triumph of man-
liness and justice, of however humble an origin, over bloated insolence,
let its rank be what it may. The proud king of Denmark and Norway,
the despot of the north, and conqueror of Sweden, the brother-in-
law of the first monarch of the continent, Charles the Fifth, found him-
self at war with the clerks of Hamburgh and Lubeck, and baffled by
them. Wherever his fleets or armies appeared, they felt this daring
enemy on their track, and were forced to fly. Christiern, reduced to
extremity, fled to Charles, and attempted to rouse the imperial wrath
against the traders. But Charles had been taught, by his experience
with the free German cities, that it was perilous to disturb men armed
for their rights and properties. An unfortunate request, which Chris-
tiern made, hastened his catastrophe. He asked Charles to give him the
city of Lubeck. The emperor justly treated the request as that of a
madman. Christiern, in a fit of rage, tore off the Order of the Golden
Fleece, which had been given to him by the emperor, and dashed it on
the ground. But Lubeck had heard the request, and determined to
punish its insolence.

Gustavus had already driven the Danish troops from the open coun-
try of Sweden, but they still possessed the three strongholds of Stock-
holm, Abo, and Calmar. Against these walls the insurrectionary army,
ill provided with money or military means, must have wasted its rude
valour. But the spirit of Lubeck and its allies was roused, and it
poured in troops, provisions, and money, until Gustavus was monarch of
Sweden. After having placed a king upon the throne, its next office
was to extinguish a tyrant. The general rendezvous of the Hanseatic
fleets was fixed for Copenhagen,* and on the first attack Bornholm and
Elsineur were taken, sword in hand. The outworks of the capital thus
seized, the capital must next have fallen. But the Danes, weary of
expending their blood, and seeing their fleets and cities burnt for a
prince " who should long since have fatted the region kites with his
offal," revolted against Christiern, and conferred their crown upon his
uncle, Frederic, Duke of Holstein. Thus Gustavus and Frederic equally
owed their diadems to the sons of trade. But Christiern had not yet
felt the last vengeance of the republic. Its fleets pursued him through
every corner of his dominions, and conveyed the Swedish and Danish
troops with a rapidity which he could not elude, until Norway too, dis-
gusted with the spectacle of a fugitive king, abjured him, and gave her
crown to Frederic. The League was now paramount, its services were
acknowledged by both sovereigns : at the decision of their claims it was
chosen umpire, and at the famous conference of Malmcet its ambassadors
acted as the general mediators.

Christiern was now broken down and an exile. But he was not
destroyed, and for six years he spent a life of perhaps the greatest
misery that the spirit of a proud man can suffer, a life of solicitation at
foreign courts for assistance to recover his dominions. The jealousy of
Holland against the Hanse Towns at length enabled him to obtain a
fleet from the States, with which he sailed for Norway. But his inde-
fatigable enemy was still upon his steps. The Dutch fleet was suddenly
assailed by the Lubeckers, and after a desperate resistance destroyed.
This was the final effort of the tyrant. In attempting to make Lis

* 1522. f 1524.

1831.] The Hanse Towns. 511

escape, he was surrounded, seized, and thrown for life into the dungeons
of Sunderbourg, leaving to the world nothing but a name, which in his
own country still points many a tale of terror.

The fortunes of this great league had now reached the meridian, and
from this period they were to decline. The history of all republics is the
same. By the simplicity and directness of their earlier councils, by their
riddance of the weighty expenditure which overwhelms monarchies with
debt; and still more by their utter rejection of that spirit of patronage
which encumbers old governments with imbecility and ignorance in office;
and which altogether renders desperate or crushes men of talents born
in the inferior ranks of life, they suddenly outrun all their competitors.
In their operations there is no reserve for waste ; their whole vigour is
called on, and thrown directly into the struggle. Their finance is ap-
plied exclusively to the purposes of the state. And where eminent
ability exists, it is stimulated to its full development by the consciousness
that the most dazzling of all prizes is within its reach, and that if it
fail of the highest wealth, power, and fame, the failure is altogether
its own.

But the fall of a republic is as certain as its rise. It contains within
itself a principle of inevitable ruin. The popular energy which raised
it, undermines it, and the volcanic fire does not more surely hollow and
eat away the soil which it covers with preternatural luxuriance, than the
power of the multitude breaks down the foundations of the national pros-
perity. Lubeck by its maritime prowess in the Danish war had risen for a
time to the head of the confederacy. And it was the first to feel the symp-
toms of decline. George Wullenwer, a trader of Lubeck, had forced his
way up to the highest rank in his country by the exhibition of great public
talent. His element was struggle ; and after he had obtained all that
ambition could demand at home, the office of bourgomaster or chief of
the republic, he was driven by his vigorous and daring nature to seek
it abroad. The disturbances of Sweden and Denmark, still agitated by
a turbulent noblesse, an impoverished, unruly populace, and the rival
claims of pretenders to the throne, offered Wullenwer the natural field
for fame. But while he held the reins of government, he required a
soldier capable of putting his designs in execution. This ally was soon
found in Meyer, who from being a locksmith at Hamburgh, had sprung
into celebrity as a first-rate soldier. On this man he conferred the
military command of Lubeck ; and then, to render himself monarch in
all but name, haranguing the pupulace on the vices of the old senate,
and the general errors of the old government, he proposed to renovate
the constitution. The oration was successful, the populace applauded,
the golden days were come when all was to be freedom, peace and
plenty ; and with the words on his lips, this type of Cromwell marched
to the senate-house, expelled the senate, placed his creatures in their
room, and was lord of the republic.

Wullenwer's plans of conquest were worthy at once of the brilliancy
and the rashness of his ambition. He felt that Lubeck, restricted in
her territory to the narrow district at the mouth of the Trave must
perish at the first attack by any of the great land powers. He pro-
jected the perpetual possession of the Sound, which would give him
possession of the Baltic, and the perpetual union of Denmark with
Lubeck ,• or if he failed in obtaining the whole Danish territory, includ-
ing Norway, he looked to at least the dismemberment of provinces suf-

512 The Hanse Twvns. [MAT,

ficient to make a solid territorial power. In the last resort, the fertile
brain of this politician thought of obtaining the aid of our Henry the
8th, and even of Francis the first, by offering to them successively
the crown of Denmark.

A fleet and army were raised, and the command given to the Count of
Oldenbourg, one of those roving German princes whose trade was war,
and who were ready to fight any quarrel for their pay. This powerful
armament fell irresistibly upon the naked coasts of the Baltic. The
principle of the war was Revolutionary. There is nothing new under
the sun ; and the French fraternity and equality of the eighteenth cen-
tury were anticipated by the proclamations of Lubeck in the sixteenth.
The Count of Oldenbourg every where declared that he came only to re-
store their rights to the people, to extinguish the tyranny of the nobles,
to teach the suffering nations the way to peace and freedom, and to
spread commerce and independence through the north. These pro-
mises were alike fulfilled in both cases. The Count's republican army
robbed, burned, and slaughtered with the vigour of the oldest abuses ;
roused the peasantry to reform their government by slaying their mas-
ters ; and by the double scourge of insurrection and invasion, covered
the unfortunate land with fire and blood.

But this violence wrought its own extinction. The Danish nobles had
chiefly fled to Jutland, another La Vendee, where the tenantry were
yet unenlightened with the new doctrines of public prosperity. They
put at their head Christiern, Duke of Holstein, son of the late king
Frederic ; summoned their retainers, and learned in the war of adver-
sity and exile the lessons by which they were to reassert the rights of
their country. The young prince was fortunate in having for his con-
temporaries Henry the 4th of France and Gustavus Vasa, two of the
most extraordinary princes that Europe has seen ; and who, like him-
self, were forced to fight their way through rebellious subjects and
powerful invaders to the crown. Christiern is said to have resembled
Henry in his romantic valour, his brilliant resources, and peculiarly in
that animation and buoyancy of heart which never failed him in his lowest
depression ; and which to the leader of a popular army is of all qualities
the most invaluable.

The aspect of the war now suddenly changed : Christiern, at the head of
his desultory levies, ranged the country, attacked the invaders unexpect-
edly, harassed their communications, and while every skirmish cheered
his rude soldiery with vengeance, or with the spoil of troops loaded with
the plunder of Denmark, he broke the spirit of the Lubeckers — tired of
fighting in a wilderness, and longing to return and enjoy their plunder
at home. But the catastrophe was hurried by more than the sword of
the young king. While every courier brought details of triumph, the peo-
ple of Lubeck had sustained the war with national pride. But when the
news of defeats came, accompanied with urgent demands for troops and
money, the question of profit and loss fortunately awoke their sensi-
bility. The merchants angrily and despondingly compared the sums
which peaceable traffic would have brought in, while they were expend-
ing millions of florins for the empty honour of distributing kingdoms.
But higher considerations may have opened their eyes, for the spirit of
commerce is one of justice and goodwill to man. The opulent mer-
chant, in his luxurious mansion on the banks of the Trave, must have
thought of the " looped and windowed nakedness" of the unfortunate

1831.] The Hanse Towns. 513

Dane or Swede, with whom he probably had long personal intercourse
and whom at least, he must have felt entitled to the claims of a common
nature. A counter-revolution commenced. The former senate were
restored. Their first act was to return to the peaceful maxims of their
ancestors. They proposed a truce. A congress was held at Hamburgh,*
and the war of Lubeck was at end.

The Count of Oldenburgh, who had flattered himself with the hope
of seizing a territory in the general dismemberment still held out in
Malmae and Copenhagen. But he was pushed vigorously. Famine
finished the sieges, and Christiern the Second, made his triumphal entry
into Copenhagen, on a day which is still recorded as the second birth of
the throne, t

The fate of the " regents/' of Lubeck, Wullemwur and Meyer, is but
a part uf the customary picture of popular ambition. Those men, who
had been idolized in the day of their prosperity, had now become objects
of the fiercest aversion. All the misfortunes of the war were heaped
upon their heads, their splendid talents and services were forgotten in
this indiscriminate calumny. Their noble expenditures for the state
were imputed to avarice. Their intelligence, valour, and grandeur of
design which had raised Lubeck to the summit of the League, were now
converted into presumption, rashness and personal cupidity. Their fate
may be easily conjectured. They had raised a spirit which was too
strong for them to lay, and in making the populace the arbiters of the
republic, they had signed their own death-warrant. "They were"
justly says the historian, " undoubtedly no common men. They had
given proof of great courage, and of genius firm, vast, and daring. They
clearly belonged to that class of mankind, fortunately a small one, which
possesses all qualities for the overthrow of established things, and for the
termination of their own career on either the throne or the scaffold." J
The ' ' regents" died by the hands of the public executioner.

The establishment of the factories was one of the most characteristic
and effective conceptions of the League. Among the jealous and half-
barbarian people of Europe, the merchant was always an object of
mingled envy and contempt, and the Hanse Towns had found at an early
period that an unprotected commerce was only an allurement to plunder.
Their only resource was to form large communities in the principal coun-
tries, capable of giving protection to their traders, of receiving their car-
goes direct, and by their superior knowledge of local circumstances, fitted
to avail themselves directly of all the advantages of their position. To
those who recognize a factory under its modern aspect, the solemn and
formal rules of the ancient school of commerce must appear singularly
forbidding. The age was one of cloisters and chivalry, and the Han-
seatic factories curiously combined the spirit of both. The factory at
Bergen, the model of them all, was at once a fortress and a convent. Its
tenants were at once knights, and recluses. Its buildings spread over
a large quarter of the city, and its walls were regularly mounted by
guards attended by dogs of extraordinary ferocity, trained to fly equally
at friend or foe. No person was permitted to pass the gates after night-
fal. To prevent the influence of external manners or interests, all alli-
ance with the people of the country was strictly prohibited. Its inmates

* 1536. f 14th July, 1536.

$ Mallet. Histoire de la Ligne.

M.M. Nciv Series.-*VoL. XL No. 65. 3 U

514 The Hanse Towns. [MAY,

were all unmarried, and they were prohibited from receiving the visits of
any female. To satisfy the governors of the fortitude of their younger
members under this cloistral discipline, all aspirants must undergo an
ordeal scarcely less severe than that of old appointed for criminals. The
three species of torture were the trial by smoke, by water, and by the
scourge. Those were so severe, that it was not unusual to see them
die under the operation. Still the certainty of making wealth in time,
the eagerness of youth, and perhaps even the mystery of the life, attracted
such crowds of young men from all parts of the Continent, that it was
constantly found necessary to increase the difficulties of admission by
still more barbarous penalties. This ordeal, which was called The Games,
annually attracted an immense concourse of spectators to Bergen. The
severities of the exhibition were followed by a carousal, dances, masque-
rades, feasts and revellings of all extravagant kinds. The factory was
mad, till the Carnival was over. Then the gates were shut, silence pre-
vailed, every man was bent over his ledger, and the grimness of a den
of Carthusians succeeded to the revelry of a German hostel. The close
of the ceremony was announced by the appearance of a jester or fool,
who proclaimed, " Long life to the Games/' and proposed a general
health to the prosperity, the honour, and the trade of the Hanseatic
factory.

The second factory but the most productive in point of trade, was that
of Bruges. The early progress of the Flemings in the possession of
public rights, had long made them eminent in every art cultivated by the
free labour of man. While France and Germany were turned into deserts
by the perpetual quarrels of their masters, and while the people, exposed
to the extortions of all, lost the spirit of economy and industry — for who
will toil for the robber and the oppressor ? — the Fleming, secure that
what he earned would be his own, and fearless of power while he could
take shelter under the wing of a constitution, had turned his country
into a garden, and built manufactories like citadels, and houses like
palaces.

The wool-trade of Europe, like all other trades, had naturally devolved
into the hands which could best pay for it ; and the beauty of the Flemish
stuffs, the richness of their dyes, and peculiarly the splendour of their
tapestries, which to the eyes of the half savage German and Russian
must have looked scarcely less than miraculous, commanded the wealth
of Europe. A Flemish tapestry was a royal treasure, and no sovereign
hesitated to strip his exchequer for so singular, and certainly so beautiful
an evidence of the skill of man. The Hanseatics filled their depot at
Bruges with the produce of the extreme north, timber, iron, hemp,
canvas, cloth, and especially wax, which had an extraordinary sale, at
a period when the Continent was overwhelmed with churches and
cathedrals, when perpetual lights were burning in them all, and when
sins were atoned in proportion to the thickness of the sinner's candle.

Another of their great factories was established in the heart of Russia.
It must seem strange to us, that in the only country of Europe which now
exhibits the model of the most unrelieved despotism, one of the earliest
and most powerful republics existed, so far back as the eleventh century.
This was one of the many miracles of commerce. The situation of Novo-
rogod, on the Wolchof river, and at the head of one of the great inland
waters of Russia, directed its attention to trade, on the first cessation of
the Tartar wars. From a place of refuge for fishermen, or the few

1831.] The Hanse Towns. 515

wandering traffickers who still survived in the desert, it rapidly rose
into a city, the wonder of surrounding barbarism. Its duke or
sovereign was soon forced to limit his tyranny, and was finally com-
pelled to surrender all but the shadow of power into the hands of the
general assembly of the citizens, by whom the hereditary succession
was changed into the elective, and the barbarian despot into the limited
and responsible magistrate of a republic. With wealth, its commercial
enterprize, its population, and its rank as a government rapidly in-
creased, until in the fifteenth century its population was said to amount
to half a million ; its fairs were the emporium of Asia, and the north of
Europe ; the German, the Italian, and the Chinese met in the streets
of this famous and flourishing city, and the admiration of the surround-
ing provinces, to which its strength and opulence must have looked
like something fallen from Heaven, could find no other language than
that of idolatry : " Who can resist God, and the mighty Novorogpd ?"

But the usual fate of republics was not to be averted. The citizens,
grown ambitious as they grew opulent, fell into faction, and were sur-
prised by the wild invasion of the neighbouring barbarians. Ivan the
Fourth, a brutal savage, looking with a greedy eye on the arts and
wealth, which he had neither the taste to cultivate, nor the industry to
acquire, suddenly rushed on the city with a host of savages, as furious,
greedy, and blood-thirsty as a life of savagery could prepare for plunder
and massacre. The overthrow was complete. An immense multitude
were destroyed by the indiscriminate havoc of the Russian pike. A
still greater multitude fled from a spot where nothing but security could
have reconciled men to the ungenial climate, and the remoteness from
the general intercourse of Europe. They never returned. The furious
feuds of Russia, alternately torn by revolt, and trampled by the Tartars,
extinguished all hope of personal safety, and Novorogod never reco-
vered the blow. The transfer of the seat of government to the mouth
of the Neva, by Peter the Great, and the change of the route of com-
merce to the cities on the Euxine, were new impediments, which even
the tendency of all great places of commerce to resume their original
strength, was not able to resist ; and Novorogod has long since dwindled
down into a provincial city, with a feeble and idle population of a few
thousands.

The Hanseatic Factory among ourselves would deserve a history of
its own, from the singular vigour of its system, its perpetual encroach-
ments on what, even in the darkness of the middle ages, we had already
discovered to be the rights of trade, and the perpetual and stubborn
resistance with which its monopoly was met, and by which that mono-
poly was finally abolished. The whole detail would give a striking
proof of our early sense of justice, the clearheadedness in com-
mercial principles which distinguished the British merchant, and the
public and personal evils that must arrive in this country from any
system of favouring strangers at the expence of the nation. While
the English monarch s were poor, and their thrones unsteady, the Hanse
Towns were lords of the trade of England. But as England began to
feel her strength, the privileges of the foreigner declined. As her kings
became more secure, and were less compelled to lean on foreign influ-
ence, the natural rights of their people took the lead, the cessation of
the York and Lancaster wars prepared the Hanseatics for their fate,

3 U 2

516 The Hanse Towns. [MAY,

and the last privileges of the Factory were abolished by Elizabeth,*
when, in the closing years of her reign, she had at last fixed the un-
settled throne of her ancestors on an immoveable basis, and had built
round her empire the impregnable walls of liberty and religion.

The same causes which repelled the League at so early a period
in England, began to operate on the continent in the following century.
The general European system gradually assumed a consistency, which
gave comparative security and peace to the people. Elective monarchy
was replaced by inheritance ; and commerce, no longer compelled to take
refuge under the protection of strangers, established itself nearer home.
The Hanseatic League then declined. Its purposes had been accom-
plished; and they were admirable and almost providential purposes.
But their necessity had passed away, and other substitutes less cum-
brous, and more consistent with the immediate good of nations, were
to assume its office. The allied towns gradually broke off their connec-
tion with the once famous League, and before the close of the seventeenth
century it was but a name.

MY uncle is one of those extraordinary characters which unite with
the charitable affections the acrimonious petulance of a disposition
changed, by the unexpected reverses of life, from its original suavity.
I remember him, in early manhood, an example of gaiety, friendship,
generosity, and frankness ; confiding and lenient in his every opinion —
sensitive, it is true, but not tenacious-— and rarely animated to severity
against the vices of another, unless they evinced some immediate evil to
the fortune or well-being of a fellow-creature. He was then one of those
happy beings who took his notions of life, in general, from the unmin-
gled felicity of his own, and who imputed to the bulk of mankind the
harmless purposes of his own existence ; a sceptic of the evil propensi-
ties of human nature, which he always thought the mere imagination
of idle poets or professed tale-makers, who found their account in the
description of passions removed from the reality of common life. In
short, he looked on the even tenour of his past and present existence as
the type of our common destiny ; he had as yet suffered none of those
mortal privations which gradually desolate the exuberant yet tranquil
joys of a contented bosom ; nor had he learned, from the allotted bitter-
ness of experience, that friendships are sometimes fallacious — that pros-
perity, however fairly maintained and rationally enjoyed, is liable to
unforeseen and unmerited interruption ; nor could he have imagined
that the placid nature of a bosom like his own required but the ordinary
collisions of life to give it the angry habit of commotion, and to rouse
resentments which, once intensely actuated, are seldom known to subside
in perfect peace, until infirmity or imbecility — the occasional prefaces to
death — consigns us to the blank insensibility which frequently involves
the end of a dissatisfied and disappointed career. In short, my uncle
was no practical philosopher ; and, like Person, in the moments of his
aggravation, was known to disapprove of " the nature of things/' He
was a compound of strong feeling, lacking the inestimable power of equa-

* 1597-

1831.] My Uncle's Diary at Calais. 517

nimity ; and it depended totally on occasion, by what passion he was
impelled. Early convictions had made him a creature of humanity and
acquiescence ; the painful discoveries of prolonged existence had ren-
dered him capricious and mistrustful. His perceptions were quickened
by his animosity, which still was of a general and never of an individual
character. His original nature was too powerful for even the strong
perversions of adversity. He could enjoy, he fancied, the sufferings to
come, as they afflicted mankind indiscriminately ; but I have seen him
electrically shed a tear of undissembled anguish when calamity, though
merited, became a case in point. He could bear a sweeping visitation
on his species ; but the tenderness of his heart could not endure the suf-
ferings of an isolated individual. In short, he could have legislated like
Draco, in his wrath ; but his judgment, like that of a sublime spirit,
would have fallen in the lenity of mercy. His precipitation threw him
frequently into situations of peculiar hardship — self-imposed, it is true,
but from which his pride would not allow him to recede at the bidding
of his sober judgment. To a circumstance of this description was attri-
butable his exile from his native land. A difference with his attorney on
a point involving twenty pounds, inspired him with a resolution to for-
sake a country, in which, he said, there was no protection against the
rascality of lawyers; and, rather than pay a sum so unjustly demanded
of him, he preferred a residence abroad, surrounded by the innumerable
miseries which afflict an Englishman born and bred, when he leaves his
own native region of convenience, comfort, sociality, and refinement, for
the realms of wretchedness, fraud, incivility, and insincerity, which
congenially triumph in a foreign land.

It arose from this irritable mcod that my uncle, who chose his abode
at Calais, from its solitary merit of proximity to England, hastily and
angrily — sometimes with prejudice, but more frequently with truth —
described in vivid items the place and its inhabitants. His account
is eminently immethodical. The points most flagrant in offence were
foremost to engross the record of his indignation. The greater part of
his reproaches emanate from an impression of the country he had left,
which led him to comparative remarks, by no means favourable to the
elected city of his sojourn. Though he little thought, and certainly did
not intend, that his remarks should pass beyond the hasty memoranda of
his rambling diary, he seemed determined on the refutation of opinions
unjustly held of the superiority of aught in manners, morals, and civili-
zation to " the state of things in other countries" that he would not
name. To me, who knew him so profoundly, every entry in his manu-
script conveys the very mood in which it was committed to the paper.
I could trace those passages in which remembrance had evoked his
sighs ; and I think I see him now, in his seclusion, as a stroke of bitter
irony or caustic ridicule illustrated the truth of his perception, and sup-
plied an adequate expression of dislike. I see him, on the flash of an
effective simile, apply his fingers to his snuff, which he would often use
insensibly in vast profusion, and rise to pace his chamber with rapidity
proportioned to the satisfaction of his eager humour. Like many of his
singular countrymen, he partook very largely of the nature of a weather-
glass ; and the mercury was insensibly depressed or elevated as the tem-
perature operated on his physical components. In the languor of
oppressive weather, he would trace the less offensive singularities he saw
around him. It was certainly on some fine glowing day that he consented

518 My Uncles Diary at Calais. QMAY,

to a kind of effort to compose his picture of the town ; and the atmos-
phere, I doubt not, was intensely keen when he recorded, in the vehe-
mence of his disgust, his admirable descant on the despoiling harpies of
the custom-house. There is but little commendation mingled with his
censures : this may destroy, in some opinions, the verity of his deli-
neations ; but true it is he found but little for his eulogy, had his mood
directed him to such an enterprize. It must, however, be observed that
he was evidently wrong in taking from the town of Calais — so mean and
rancid a conglomeration of the worst materials of society — his sentiments
of France in general ; a country teeming with luxuriance and beauty —
with intellectual and moral excellence — indeed exhibiting the noblest
qualities of human nature, and all the social virtues and affections which
constitute the charm of private life. I must, once for all, admit that
many of my uncle's notions were tinctured by his native predilections,
by which he formed the standard of propriety in general. He seemed
not to have known, before he left the country of his birth, that art and
industry had given it a vast pre-eminence above all other nations of the
world, and had commonly diffused among the lower classes even of its peo-
ple every object of utility and comfort, which in lands of less felicity are
merely known by name, and rarely found in the possession of the great
and opulent themselves : a fact which, by the way, is worth the notice of
the squeamish portion of our countrymen who languish for the indulgence
of a few exotic, questionable benefits, forgetful of the numerous — or, to
speak more justly — the innumerable means of comfort, cleanliness, and
ease which England, beyond all nations of the earth, profusely places in
the reach of every order of her people. These, indeed, were all my
uncle's notions ; for he was genuinely English even to his prejudices,
which he looked on as the laudable excrescences of the love of country,
and which, far from wishing to rescind for their unphilosophical cha-
racter, he studiously and fondly trained into expansion, with the highest
admiration of their luxuriance. He was a bitter adversary to the conver-
sion of native taste into the gout of foreign systems ; it appeared to him
a treason against the sovereign law of nature — an unfair desertion of
legitimate authority, for a capricious acquiescence in the usurpation of
an alien sway. Thus he was firm to the rigid decency of English attire :
he disdained the monkified assumption of barbarian mustachios, was
always well shaven, and wore clean linen — white as he could get it, in a
town renowned for the worst washing in all Europe. He abhorred the
laxity of dress so palpable in most of the expatriated sojourners in Calais.
who gradually declined from the propriety of their vernacular attire —
from coats to jackets, from hats to caps, from good plain linen to party-
coloured dirt-concealing cottons j until, by imperceptible degrees, the
nicety of English costume had sunk into the slovenly indifference of
genuine French uncleanliness. I think it fair to preface the random
thoughts of my relation by this admission of his strength of prejudice
and prepossession, that the fair deductions of the reader may fix the
veritable quota of his observations.

MY UNCLE'S DIARY.

April 1. — Put into effect my resolution of quitting England. The day
was ominous. Landed at Calais. Haifa franc to pay for stepping on a plank.
The first object that struck me, the column dedicated to Louis XVIII.
—-a monument of French perfidy and subservience : the inscription,

1831.] My Uncle's Diary ai Calais. 519

which was mawkishly adulatory of one dynasty, was effaced by the tem-
porizing weathercocks who have readily subscribed to another. A
Frenchman's mind is the region of inconstancy and shadowy fancies ;
he can never let well alone — he is all talk — all theory, pomposity, and
enthusiasm — a vast braggart, and a little doer.

Pestered to death by a phalanx of commissioners, who plied me with
a thousand questions — none of which I answered ; not understanding
French, of which I am glad.

Dined in a cold coffee-room — the wind whistling through the doors
and windows : the stove filled the chamber with smoke. A good soup.
A turbot neither hot nor cold, with the fins cut off: what would they
say to this in the city ? Five beggars looking in at the window during
our repast ; gave them some halfpence — when they departed, and sent
another detachment, headed by a blind fiddler in a green hat, led by a
ragged boy, who cried bitterly while the musician played. Sent out
more halfpence, when they all quarrelled — and, having divided the
donation, went laughing away. Drank some grave, which gave me the
stomach-ache. All the plates cold. Tried several dishes with different
names — all nasty alike. A French traveller ate of all of them — tucked
his napkin in his cravat — picked his teeth with his fork, and his nails
with his knife — spoke and drank with his mouth full — spat on the bit of
carpet in the centre of the room — swallowed a cup of coffee — drank a
dram — pocketed half a loaf and some lumps of sugar, and left the table.
A man of a most flatulent habit — French politeness ! !

A good bed, but the odour of the linen offended me. Pulled a bell
twenty times which did not ring. My clothes badly brushed, and
brought me in a heap. My boots ill-cleaned, or rather smeared, looking
like drooping fire-buckets. The soap in my stand too tenacious to yield
a lather. I could not forego a pun. An English gentleman told me it
was Castile. I told him I thought, from its consistence, it might be
cast-iron. He didn't take my joke.

2d April. — Plundered at the custom-house. Lost my little favourite
queen's-metal tea-pot — an article not found in France. Lost my little
blue jug, and a Manchester shawl. Obliged to write to Paris to the
director-general of the customs. Received no answer, because — as I
understood — I had not written on stamped paper. Wrote again, accord-
ing to direction, and received permission to send back my goods to
England. My things, in the interval, had been spoiled. Obliged to
make three various applications to different Jacks in office for leave to
act on paramount authority. Grew tired of the trouble, and abandoned
my property. What became of it is best known to the harpies of the
customs.

3d April. — Awakened by the screams of " sauterelles crues ;" mean-
ing, I am told, raw shrimps — some say grasshoppers. This music was
enlivened every half-hour by the blast of a horn — the notice of the
bakers that they are about to draw their batches. The din of the lace-
machines incessant. The carillon of the Hotel de Ville recurring every
quarter. The melancholy cry of " eau !" — a monosyllable which the
French vender has the painful talent of extending to the length of a
Greek composite, and of marking, through all its doleful distortions,
with a different key; succeeded by the rapid call of " qui vent de la
tourbe ?" and the eternal voice of the knife and scissors'-grinder.

4th April.-—What do our travelled youth mean by their encomiums on

520 My Uncles Diary at Calais. [MAY,

the walking of French females ? Is a lame amble elegance ? or is the
halting of a cat in walnut-shells called grace ? I execrate the wriggling
gait of the French girls ; it gives me the uneasy conviction that they
have sore toes and narrow petticoats, or that they tie both stockings with a
single garter, too short to admit of the extension of their limbs. In the
young it is mincing and unnatural ; and when French gormandizing
has clothed the elderly with bilious corpulence, when in motion, they
look like forms of jelly in staggering agitation ; tottering, with unwieldy
feet in narrow shoes, under an unmanageable impulse. I have seen
them take to an ascent to counteract the force of an original momentum.

4th, 5th, 6th, 7th April. — Confined to the house with a sore hand,
which I cut severely in opening my door — an arduous task sometimes,
from the clumsy workmanship of French locks and latches. Here they
are centuries behind us in all articles of hardware. Their pokers are
skewers, their tongs pincers, and their shovels spoons ; a coal-skuttle is
a curiosity, a grate a rarity, and a hearth-brush unknown. The tem-
perature of their rooms is a constant battle between the result of one
element and the violence of another — the warmth of smoke being con-
stantly qualified by the rushing of the wind through windows, doors,
and key-holes. You may sit by a red-hot stove, and roast your knees,
while your extremities are frozen.

8th April. — Visited , a countryman, who felt ashamed at the

delusion of all his projected comforts. I remember, in England, his
favourite theme was the charm of the French climate, the obliging dis-
position and quick perception of its people. He couldn't bear the atmos-
phere of his native country ; he hated the dulness and incivility of its
inhabitants ; so he sought a refuge from these intolerable evils in the
superior temperature, manners, and character of France and its popula-
tion. He was ashamed to own his disappointment. He was drinking
claret — as he called it — which sank like frozen lead within him. He
would fain have mulled a bottle ; but his servant was gone, in spite of a
raging storm, to a dance some leagues distant. He appealed, in miserable
French, to the female of a fellow-lodger, who answered him with a broad
stare, and a perpetual " plait-il ?" He succeeded, at length, by panto-
mime and gibberish, in wringing a reluctant promise of some boiling
water from this type of national acquiescence — this perceptive and
obliging handmaid. In an hour it came, lukewarm, highly tinctured
with the savour of an unclean tub, in which it had been caught from the
house-tops ; tolerably suffused with grease, and — in a tea-cup. He
could bear this no longer j and sincerity compelled him to say, " Was

there ever such a d — d set of ?" Here he stopped; and I

responded with a hem ! He had ever been a warm encomiast of French
furniture. I saw him wriggling to and fro upon his chair ; being some-
what lusty, he found himself uneasy in his seat, over which his Britan-
nic person was expanded like a toad-stool on its stem. f{ Let us drink
Old England !" He assured me that the wine, at least, was excellent —
and surely wholesome ; but he swallowed every bumper with the air of
one who takes a draught by gulps, to guard against its nausea. He
seemed to labour through a bottle for the compensation of his toil, which
was, in general, a kind of counterpoise against its healthful predecessor —
a quart of brandy, with a fiery twang, diluted in a fashion of his own,
with economical consideration for his water, which, in Calais, is both bad
and scarce.

1831.] My Uncle's Diary at Calais. 521

9th April. — I'was arrested for three francs, by the malice of a ' Jezabel,
who found that I had purchased articles, in which she dealt, at other
shops. In this land of modern liberty I paid the sixty sous, and stood
superior to their lenient and impartial laws.

Mem. Never to owe another sou in France, and invariably to have
" Acquit" on every bill, however large or small.

10th April. — The French have no idea of what we call " a home."
Their pleasures are of a vagabond, external character : their sole and
whole pursuit is money. I never followed any Frenchmen talking,
but " money, money, money," was the topic of their conversation. Their
grimaces, bows, and phrases are a miserable compound of fallacious
humbug. I see no friendships round me — every thing is artificial and
deceptive. They have not our faults ; but they have not our virtues.
They are satisfied with inconvenience, dirt, and wretchedness, because
they never knew the comfort, cleanliness, and plenty of an Englishman.
Their propensities are not propensities of principle. A Frenchman has
no piety : his religion is a form — a mere expedient ; not a feeling or
a duty. He holds nothing to be reverend or sacred. In the saying of the
impious wit, Voltaire, they were alternately tigers and monkeys. The
breed is crossed, and now they smack of both. They lack the rational
devotion of good subjects, and hardly one among them can regard autho-
rity with deferent affection. They doat on politics because they vary,
and abominate all order from the fear of permanence. They talk of
liberty and equal rights, while the spirit of their law protects the roguery
of natives, and exposes foreigners to injury and persecution. Why was
I subjected to the loss of freedom, and a possible expense of great enor-
mity, because by accident I left unpaid a bill of sixty sous ? Is this
their rights of man, their generous impartiality, their philanthropic ten-
derness for liberty ?

llth April. — I am sickened with exotic comforts ; I am insensible to
foreign elegance. 1 have a cupboard for a bed -room — a wilderness of
sand to dine in — a towel for a table-cloth — and a cheese-plate, as a dish,
to hold my leg of mutton. The forks and spoons are dim and dirty, and
a lie is stamped on every knife. Sheer-steel, indeed ! sheer-tin, it should
be. If they made their knives of what they make their buttons, we
should carve an Indian-rubber-stew with ease ! I have cut my finger to
the bone in putting on my gaiters !

April 12th. — Visited a cafe — a receptacle for English indolence and
French frivolity, in which meanness and finery are fantastically con-
trasted— marble slabs, rush-bottomed chairs, gilded lamps, sanded floors,
pejidules, Cupids, bouquets, mirrors, pipes, bottled beer, dogs, cats, and
parrots. A melange of company, and diversity of pursuit, are remark-
able in these extraordinary haunts. The demon of play tortures some,
who would stake their being, were it capable of transfer, on a game of
ecarte or bouillotte ; while the table is surrounded by the lovers of the
vice, whose purses are exhausted, but whose propensity is rather ob-
structed than subdued. I have seen them, pennyless, lingering round
the players, till the last card, when the exulting winner and the dejected
.loser depart, and leave the tribe of languid strollers to seek a refuge^
from the world's hopelessness in the oblivion of their beds. Others
are clamorously loquacious in clouds of smoke, the wrath of politics, and
the inflation of bottled beer ;— others, again, who fancy that the dislike
of being alone is the love of society, frequent the cafe to put their hands

M. M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 65. 3 X

522 My Uncle's Diary at Calais. [MAY,

into their breeches-pocket, and snore in company, till the gargon wakes
them with the intimation, ft Monsieur, il est minuit, tout le monde est
parti /" I have seen many of my countrymen indulge this social habit
of repose, and walk away at midnight with a stare, a yawn, and a " bon
soir, Monsieur !" The cafe presents a specimen of French equality. All
trades and all professions mingle : a shoemaker sits opposite a physician,
a tailor with an officer, a haberdasher with a naval captain, a merchant
with a courier — whose wants are supplied by a landlord decorated with
the legionary honour.

April 13th. — Strolled into the Basse Ville — the chosen residence of
Nottinghamshire refugees. Every other house exhibits " fabriquant
de tulle!' My countrymen are easily discernible among the mixture of
inhabitants. A haggard aspect, and a red nose, are the distinctive desig-
nations of an English workman, who can earn, by three days' toil, suffi-
cient for existence and for four days' indolent debauchery. Black eyes
and mutilated faces manifest the independent spirit of our pugnacious
countrymen, who seldom separate without a desperate appeal to pugilis-
tic skill. The Nottingham enunciation, engrafted on the tortured French,
surpasses all the riddles of the Sphinx.

April 14th. — We are ridiculed by our polite neighbours for our blas-
phemy. In point of frequency, they far surpass us in the use of impious
exclamations. I have heard — and often too — from female lips in France
expressions which a well-bred libertine in England would be ashamed to
use. I cannot pollute my paper by recording them.

April 15th. — What a sorry sight is that ! — that misshapen carriage
called a diligence ! — by nick-narne, I suppose ? Its pannels tawdry red,
and ' ' St. Omer/' in letters roman and italic, half and , half, in dirty
yellow on its side ; never washed these three years : the whip and har-
ness wet, and dirty on the seat inside ; the window open, and the rain
beating in upon the gawdy plush and faded binding ! Home, Water-
house, and Chaplin, could ye see but this ! No hand to clean the team ;
a jaded, dirty, goaded triplet — limping, blind, and broken- winded ; each
bit incrusted with ferruginous decay ; the reins, a rope ; the whip, a
humble fishing-rod. I would Bob Snow could see the coachman ! A
night-cap on his head, a pair of wooden shoes, a blue smock-frock ; the
reins tied to the seat ; the driver with both hands belabouring his starved
cattle, and asking them in angry parlance if they mean to travel — each
animal the likeness of Petruchio's steed.

April 16th. — I watched the beggars in their rounds; and now again
I see, for the tenth time this day, that groupe disposed in most effective
order. The object is to raise compassion : the very rags are wrought to
dress the character in poverty. An infant at the breast ; a child reclin-
ing pn the knee, with folded hands — the parent, with dejected eye and
melancholy mien, incapable, to all appearance, of soliciting the charity
which every passing stranger feelingly bestows. Yet this is pantomime !
She has not collected less than forty sous this day ; her wallet has been
filled by various hands; she has levied universal contributions — but
maintains her supplicating tone and melancholy mien ; and yet that
great performer has her cher ami, who indolently thrives on the produc-
tion of her beggary ! The profession of a mendicant in France is an
authorized vocation, having rights and prescripts of its own. A well-
established intelligence among the members of the society enables them
to prosecute their duties with mutual ease and common advantage. Every

1831.] My Uncle's Diary at Calais, 523

beggar has a post. You will see, in Calais, the blind fiddler, in his
green glazed hat, and his crying tatter demallion, in punctual attendance
on every steam-boat which goes or comes. ' Between the southern gates
of the fortification, you as surely find a hale, squat, old, blear-eyed
cripple, with inverted feet, who sings with the lungs of Stentor his sup-
plications to the passers-by. On Wednesdays and Saturdays — the
market-days — this thoroughfare is apportioned to additions of the halt
and blind, who reap a handsome harvest from the pity of the peasantry.

April 17th. — Went to seek for letters, and was nearly smothered on
my way by the abominable vehicles and tubs which, in the English
towns, are duly limited to midnight occupation. The hall of the post-
office is the vestibule of anxious hopes ; I remark the faces as they pass,
and contrast them as they return. I have seen them at the window, in
eager hope, as the commis has cast his eye across the parcels — " II n'y
a rien pour vous, Monsieur" — these tidings are the message of despair. I
have seen the disappointed expectant loiter back, and pause at every
street, as if unconscious whither he is bent — his eyes expanded into
unobservant thought, and speculation far away. The effect is widely
different when the reply is " Trente-six sous, s'il vous plait !" The let-
ter is received with glee approaching agitation — the paper squeezed with
all the customary question of a practised touch ; and the responsive
softness of a hoped enclosure lightens on the features in rapid flashes of
satisfied solicitude.

April 18th. — A hurricane. Confined to my apartments ; the wind
whistling through a thousand crevices ; the rain straining through the
windows ; volumes of stench and soot continually rushing down the
chimney; my wood continually squeaking, fizzing, but too damp to
burn — attempting to confute the proverb, that " there's no smoke with-
out fire."

April 19th. — Continued storm. Sand driven horizontally in sheets —
nearly choked and blinded ! Saw a few passengers land like drowned
rats — as pale as spectres, though, from certain tokens, not so superna-
tural.

April 20th. — Keen north-east wind ; cold as the arctic regions.

April 21st. — Mild and sunny in the morning — oppressively sultry in
the middle of the day — severely cold at sunset. Every body barking.
Undertakers lively.

April 22d. — Saw my friend in the packet — another fool come

abroad in quest of comforts, I suppose. The day favoured his arrival.
Calais, from the dark blue water, girded by a fine expanse of level,
yellow sands, is certainly an animated picture, in spite of the Arabian
wild, extending on its east and west. Its outline is distinctly traced on
the horizon. Its ancient Gothic spire, the Saxon massiveness of its
pharos, the grotesque and quaint commixture of its Hotel de Ville ; the
shipping in its port, surmounted by innumerable tri-colours ; its several
belvideres ; the long and handsome pier, by the side of which you ride
into the harbour ; its fortified extent of walls, constitute a gay, a novel,
and peculiar scene. Look where you will, on all points, the eternal
vigilance of the douane is manifest. The solitary wanderers you behold
on all sides are the lynxes of the custom-house. Not a boat is on the
water, nor a human being on the strand, that escapes the jealous vigi-
lance of those ever-wakeful guardians of the shore.

A three hours' voyage transports you to a world of novelty — of other

3 X2

524 My Uncles Diary at Calais. [MAY,

habits, laws, and prepossessions — to a difference of physiognomy, of
manners, and of dress. My friend was somewhat ruffled, yet amused,
to pass through guarded gateways, over massive drawbridges, and under
obsolete and ruined battlements ; through heaps of odious filth and
shops of paltry finery. It was market-day, and he was justly struck
with the beauty of the female peasantry of Lower Picardy — the comeli-
ness of their costume — at the abundance of supplies — the wretched guise
of the innumerable beggars — at the multitude of those unwieldy, useless
dogs which slumber under shambles in the sun, commixed with myriads
of yelping mongrel curs — all concentrating in their mangy carcases
as many lineal combinations as a high Dutch nobleman of ample quar-
terings. All had a peculiar character : the sailors, loitering along the
port ; the poissardes, ranged in order, in an uniform costume ; the strings
of shrimping women, naked to the knees ; the herds of beggars, and the
vociferous crowd of pestering commissioners. I took my friend to visit
my own favourite sight — a kind of mountebank upon the place — a crea-
ture about sixty years of age. He was holding forth most volubly among
the staring rustics. His attire, a pair of patched and faded crimson
trowsers, with a military stripe ; a vest in velvet, richly polished with
the droppings of his mouth and spoon ; a shirt of chequered filthy cot-
ton, on which I have observed a faithful and tenacious patch of egg for
fourteen days at least ; a jacket of pea-green, embroidered, and a super-
annuated cocked-hat. No lacker could surpass the glossy darkness of
his hands, in which he held aloft a rusty nail, as instrumental in the
illustration of his recipe. His essay teemed with language by Dr. John-
son called i( magniloquence :" every other word was long, and closed in
" ation." He suffused the nail with an abundance of saliva, rubbed it
with his nostrum, and having wiped it, shewed a surface of decided bril-
liance. Having shewn the efficacy of his merchandize, he closed his
puffs with praises upon cleanliness — while I remarked an undisturbed
deposit on his ears, which was nearly a sufficiency in landed property to
authorize his voting for a deputy o£ the department. He relieved the
tedium of his audience by a song, and was succeeded in his exhibition
by " Madame, ma femme" — a congenial specimen of tawdry dirt and
eloquent pomposity.

23d April. — Disgusted at the spoliations of the custom-house officers.

24th April. — I gave the following opinion to — — : — : — " These ras-
cals, Sir, are paid by England for their frauds and incivility to drive us
from the country ; and the plan is excellent. You may remain here if
you will ; but I shall certainly return. It is insufferable to see such rob-
beries committed in opposition to the will of government. The system
needs purgation. A competent and strict authority should fix the powers
of minor officers, and stop the paltry larcenies that vex all foreigners,
and shed disgrace upon the country. A gentleman is treated like a var-
letby these presumptuous cavillers ; and nineteen out of twenty men
who come to settle in the country, are disgusted with their project at the
outset, by the injurious treatment of such harpies. We, at least, should
know the fate of what they take from us, and not be bounden to the
intercession of a race of beggarly commissioners. Why should we solicit
from the favour of a public servant what his duty to his government for-
bids him to detain? Is it reasonable to believe that any state would
drive away a man about to spend an income of 8,000 francs within its
territory, by the seizure of a shaving-pot, a jug, a candlestick, a bit of

1831.] My Uncles Diary at Calais. 525

flannel, or half a dozen knives or spoons? The government will look
to this hereafter ; it will vindicate its character by the reformation of
such mean abuses, perpetrated, in the spirit of supererogation, by the
lowest of its functionaries, against the dignity and palpable advantage of
the country. For my part, Sir, I feel myself immeasurably degraded by
being at the mercy of such contemptible despoilers, and shall carry my
small modicum of money to some shore where the state protects the mean-
est of her subjects against the impudence, and fraudulence, and despo-
tism of dirty Jacks in office.

April 25th. — A Frenchman starting on a shooting excursion, arrayed
in all the novel apparatus of a gun-case, whistle, shot-bag, whip, and
pickers ; his ambitious imitation of the English sporting costume rather
frustrated by boots and long brass spurs ; the attendant dog, a grey-
hound out of all dimensions, as corpulent and jolly as an alderman.

April 26th. — Had my friend 's daughter to dine with me. She

has been cursed with a French education, and is now in the blossom of
frivolity, vanity, impiety, and affectation — a sheer compound of frigid
mechanism and heartless artifice. Her mind is exalted above the mean-
ness of vulgar belief. She has an argument against religion, against
natural affection, and against her native country. She is a philosophic
coquette — a kind of hard-hearted liberal. She has, however, learned to
pin her clothes on with a foreign air, which bestows on her the sem-
blance of a hump-backed wasp in petticoats, with a stiff neck and
crippled feet. She has all the juvenile greediness and nastiness about
her that are contracted at a French seminary ; plays on the piano like
an impaled automaton, and knows no harmony, though she is prodi-
giously advanced in music. When at her instrument, she was only once
in obvious motion, in the performance of a passsage of extravagant dis-
cord, when, stretching out her crossed arms to the extent of the piano,
the union of sound and posture gave the auditor and beholder an idea
that she was strangling a kitten among the additional keys. She is elo-
quent in support of atheism, and unblushingly au fait on themes of
immorality. She has read all books on which good -men reflect with
indignation. She is perfect mistress of Dupuis — a student of Faublas —
an ardent lover of the tc Guerre des Dieux" — I doubt not, too, possesses
a refined and copious cabinet of pictures ! She is too polite to feel a
preference for her relations, and seems, indeed, ashamed to own the com-
mon ties of mere humanity. Kill me a child — if I should ever have one
— rather than defile her youth with foreign immorality, base refinement,
and delicate indecency — rather than rear a future monster, through the
foul degrees of vitiation, to make her husband a repentant laughing-stock
in profligate society, and the helpless patron and support of bastards
sprung from wantonness, depravity, and fancy.

27th, 28th, 29th April. — Employed in packing up. Walked to the
Basse- Ville, where I beheld an effort at translation. A projecting board
exhibits (f Basset- Gilliod, Veuve, Chaudronnier." It is rendered, on
the other side, in English — u Basset-Gilliod, Mrs. Tinker/'

30th April. — All my things turned topsy-turvy by. the prying ruffians
at the custom-house. What do these public nuisances suppose an Eng-
lish gentleman can v/ish to smuggled/row their country ? Regaled my-
self, before departure, with some excellent Mortadella from Donnini's,
and a glass of pure Bourdeaux, from Carstaing's— luxuries that I shall
leave with some reluctance.

526 My Uncle's Diary at Calais. [MAY,

And here concludes My Uncle's Diary, in which he has described,
with truth but petulance, the several disagreeables attendant on a resi-
dence in Calais. His observations, though morose or caustic, are mainly
just. But I must add, that he is most profoundly wrong when he
derives his inference of France in general from what he saw and suffered
in the town of his abode. The inhabitants are commonly a set of per-
sons who have risen, by their constant traffic with the English coast,
from the worst condition of distress and beggary, into a state of prema-
ture abundance. Their character exhibits all the traits of men grown
opulent by lawless arts and servile offices — too much absorbed in the
pursuit of lucre to bestow a thought on any other object of existence.
They are, in short, a kind of fungous filth thrown out upon the stock of
industry and trade. My uncle, had he bent his course inland, would
have found the uncorrupted qualities of pure good hearts, a moral cha-
racter, a friendly sympathy, and social disposition in the people ; in fact,
a state of amiable society, from which he might have accurately drawn
an estimate of France and her inhabitants. He would have found no
angry collisions arising from the imposition of the rapacious on the
unwary ; no rude presumption of importance in the livery of public func-
tion ; no mean sneaks to greatness, and no unprincipled oppressors of
supposed inferiority and helplessness. But having placed his foot ashore,
where official impudence, and fraudulence, and incivility maintained
such vigorous, such systematic ascendancy", he had the candour to cor-
rect his plan of exile; and, returning to his native soil, conceived it
wiser to

" rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of."

THE POPULATION QUESTION. MR. SADLER AND THE POLITICAL

ECONOMISTS.

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN, in some scattered memoranda found
amongst his papers, says, that " there are on every subject but a few
leading and fixed ideas : their tracks may be traced by your own genius
as well as reading/' There is no subject to which this maxim will be
found to apply with more truth than that of the Law of Population ;
and most men who have a few sparks of the Great Intelligence from
whence they sprung are capable of working down into the mine of
thought when they have once started the arteries through which the
mineral courses. But it cannot be denied that there are knaves and
blockheads in the world ; rogues who delude and fools who are deluded;
The classes are numerous, and they thrive mutually on the simplicity of
others and their own. It would be hard to say whether the Edinburgh
Reviewer who, by the grace of Mr. Napier, and the encouragement of
a shuffling party behind the curtain, undertook to refute Mr. Sadler's
theory of Population, in the pages of Old Blue-and- Yellow, be really
the greater knave or blockhead ; for, with a mixed cunning and absur-
dity not often united in the same person, he confounds his own design
and misrepresents his antagonist so as to produce doubt, pity, and
contempt in the minds of the uninformed. It is very true that few out
of the multitude have ventured into the depths of this important ques-

1831.] Mr. Sadler and the Political Economists. 527

tion ; but in proportion to the ignorance and lack of opportunity of the
people, is the responsibility of the hireling who, under a shew of
exposing fallacies and instructing his fellow men, daringly mis-states
the elementary principles of a new and untried philosophy, distrusts its
proofs, and crows on his own rank Scotch muck-midden, in all the
glee of victory. The rationale of this vast inquiry is as simple as that
two and two make four ; it cannot be vitiated even by stupid men, if
they can but repeat one brief sentence of ten words correctly ; for within
that compass, aye, within the metaphorical outline, in this case truly
made and provided, of a nut-shell, could the whole basis of the One
Truth be shut up. The multitudinous and laborious links of reasoning
by which this conclusion is attained are, however, of a different com-
plexion. They would engross in their own compilation the time of an
ordinary life spent in ordinary habits of research. The space they fill
—voluminous as they are — is as a shadow to the time they demand of
him who would honestly put his mind through the same exercise of
inquiry to which Mr. Sadler must have subjected himself. But our
Edinburgh Reviewer, who deals with those gigantic proofs as boys on
vaulting poles deal with mounds and ditches, by springing over them,
wisely avoided entering at full upon the bearings of the question ; but,
getting rid of some parts by a side-wind, mystifying others, deforming
not a few, and wholly suppressing the rest, contrived to perplex him-
self into the belief that the whole theory was insubstantial and untenable,
firstly, because he could not comprehend it, and secondly (and princi-
pally), because Old Blue-and- Yellow had years ago pledged himself to
the atrocities of the Malthusian system, and could not now retreat
without acknowledging, what your Scotch Whig never will acknowledge,
that he was for once in his life fallible.

This is the Vanity of Vanities. This it is that makes intolerant
tolerance and bigotted liberalism so foul, and nauseous, and unseemly.
Now that this question of the Rights of the Poor — for such it is, let the
economists marvel as they please — has brought to issue the true nature
of men's Christian charities, the pureness of their Active Creeds, and
the strength, arid wisdom, and honesty of their political professions, we
find how the steam of pollution and falsehood rises round the oratorSj
pamphleteers, and reviewers, who in times past have been the advocates
of popular privileges, and the Oracles of damnatory prophecies against
all those who dared to think and move outside their circle. Who now
advocate the Rights of the Poor ? Who now stand up in their proper
places to redeem by practical deeds, at the moment when the exigencies
of famine and anarchy demand it of them, the solemn promises of their
cheap popularity ? Who are now to be found the Apostles of Hope
and Messengers of Good, dispensing in the season of want the suste-
nance granted in prospect when it was not wanted ? Where are they
to be found ? Do the Irish landlords succour the Irish poor who starve
and rot on their estates ? Do the Liberals oppose the crushing, diabo-
lical, selfish, grinding, and unnatural doctrines of Malthus ? Who are
the promoters of those doctrines ? Who are their enemies ? And who
is their Detector and Exposer? The last interrogatory concerns us
mainly here. The master mind that developed the ingenious sophistry
and laborious artfulness of the Malthusian system was a Tory — no other
than Mr. Sadler ! The Malthusian system was essentially a defence of
a gilded and luxurious order of hereditary families that could never

528 The Population Question. [MAY,

experience a pang of distress, against the natural wants of the defence-
less peasant-born race that cried at their gates for bread. Who defends
that system ? Old Blue-and- Yellow ! The pledged companion in arms
of public and common rights, reform, low rents, and the thousand and
one watch-words and signal-lights of the much abused and misled
people ! We do not care for the small fry — '• the minnows — that
have danced on the surface of the stream in the sun-light of this
luminary of modern whiggisrn ; they come in their season, and go away
unnoticed. We never expected steadfastness of them, and they are
welcome to their petty treachery ; but Old Blue-and- Yellow has sold
the pass too notoriously to escape his proper amount of open punishment.

The flagrant apostacy is interwoven in the history of the Population
Question, and will, suggest its own incidents to our readers as we proceed
in our details. But in order to a clear understanding of the whole, and
that. none of its many branches may be confused, it is our intention to
state as succinctly as we can, in the first instance, the grounds of the
case as it lies between Mr. Malthus and Mr. Sadler, before we address
ourselves to the immediate opponents of the latter, with Old Blue-and-
Yellow at their head.

At a very early stage of society, when men formed themselves into
communities such as we may venture to suspect wolves do, to prey upon
all surrounding creatures, or, in deficiency of food, upon each other, it
was thought that there was a tendency in mankind to increase in numbers
beyond the means provided by nature for his support. The belief was
in perfect keeping and harmony with the character of the era. It was
the philosophy of a time when the first appeal .was that of hunger :
when Morals lingered on the heels of Appetite ; and Man, the express
image of his Maker, was no more than Man, the animal. In that age
the Selfish qualities took the place of the Intellectual ; and it was an
inevitable consequence of a degraded and prowling state of being, that
each person should fancy his neighbours cormorants, and wish he had
fewer, lest they should eat up " all the corn in Egypt;" and that go-
vernment should be equally apprehensive of the growing strength and
numerical importance of the people. To flatter both fears — of the sen-
sualist and the despot — this ingenious, but, at that period, not very
luminous dogma was invented. It answered for its day : but knowledge
advanced, and children increased, and food was found everywhere on
the bosom of the fertile earth, and at last the Famine Creed melted
away, like a mist, and was forgotten.

Each condition of corporeal things has its own delusion. When
people were pressing onward to prosperity they feared a blight would
strike them back ; when they reached the height of prosperity they
discovered a new source of terror in the apprehension that they would
not be allowed to enjoy it, and that the numbers of Man would diminish,
and that some desert-curse was hovering over them. When they were
struggling for food they shrunk from human increase, and when they
had food in abundance they trembled at the prospect of loneliness !
These are the only legends connected with the Population Question,
and, although they are authentic enough, yet they made so slight an
impression upon the actual conduct of mankind, in the bulk, or so little
affected his views, that they may be dismissed as preliminary trifles
are by the German writers, when they are approaching the pith of their
horrible demon-stories.

1831.] Mr. Sadler and the Political Economists. 529

The latter doctrine is the more creditable of the two. It is foolish
and ridiculous enough, but it shews a clinging to kind, and a love of
the earth on which God has placed his creatures, and a zest in the
enjoyments of its cheerful and busy surface, and a reverential anxiety
about life that indicated love and gratitude. The more fictitious
and complicated relations into which society formed itself, however,
required a doctrine that would give a missionary appearance to the
masters of the soil, and keep off the unholy approaches of the lower
orders. The good of the few was to be consulted, and the desires and
spreading hopes of the many were to be curtailed. In our times there
was no want of zeal in the pursuit of some feasible apology for depre-
ciating the increase of the poor ; and that apology found its expounder
in the person of a clergyman. With considerable shew of skill, an
exhibition of painful research, and the air of one who had discovered
the philosopher's stone, Mr. Malthus revived the exploded and hardly
formed folly of a primitive age, announced it as his own, and became
the father of a new sect of philosophers.

The substance of his theory is briefly stated. He maintains that
mankind has a constant tendency to increase beyond the means of
existence : that population increases in a geometrical ratio, doubling
itself every twenty-five years, while food, with all the advantages of accu-
mulating labour, and application of enlarged and enlarging information,
could not increase more rapidly than in the arithmetical ratio. As it is
desirable that this fundamental principle may not be mistaken, here is
the example of the relative proportions put into figures : —

Population 1 2 4 8 16 32 64 128 256, &c.
Food 12345 67 8 9, &c.

Thus it appears that the natural and ordained progress of mankind is
to starvation ; for if at the end of two centuries the proportion between
the number of created beings, and the amount of food that could be
produced for their sustentation, would be as thirty-two to one, it is
pretty clear that thirty-one out of the thirty-two must famish. Indeed,
had we not the fear of Old JBlue-and- Yellow before our eyes, we might
say this theory refutes itself, since if human beings were to be decimated
after so wholesale a fashion by the inscrutable decrees of Providence,
there never could arise any danger of that super- fecundity which the
theory propounds, seeing that the people who were to have propagated
at so fierce a rate must have died for want of food. But it does not ap-
pear that mankind has run into any such excess, for every man contrives
to get enough to eat either by honesty or theft, and many men get much
more than their share, which would be things impossible if it were true
that the quantity of food in the world was inadequate to the demand.

But Mr. Malthus asserts that such would be the case, were it not that
Providence provides checks against the increase of our race under the
forms of moral restraint, and vice and misery. t( Only for something
the sky would fall." Grant Mr. Malthus these premises, and away he
goes, whistling like a man who had just sold a spavined colt for sound
wind and limb, and had got the money in his pocket.

It requires very little penetration to perceive that these checks, which
Mr. Malthus assigns to the Creator of life, and the Giver of the means of
living, are as direct impeachments of the goodness and mercy of GOD as
they are insults to the dignity of our own nature. To add that they
are also an unequalled specimen of bad logic would be an anti-climax

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 64. 3 Y

530 The Population Question. [MAY,

from which we will spare the Political Economists. They pre-suppose
that GOD had miscalculated the power and operation of the machinery
constructed out of His own bidding, since they assume that He has
found it necessary to repress its springs and retard its motions ; that He
made a world which so fructified in its own vile luxuriance, as to outgrow
the Original Design, deform the pure symmetry of its plan, and render im-
perative some mighty scourges to cure those excrescences, to the evils of
which it was exposed from its formation. In this, either the wisdom
or the goodness of the Omnipotent is staked. The Malthusians cannot
escape from the force of this impiety. They have committed it, and they
continue to commit it in their professors' chairs, in their dark lectures in
Old Blue-and- Yellow, and in every hole and corner where they can
thrust their sallow, lank faces, and unpronounceable heads.

The preventive check that proposes to turn the natural passions into
other and nameless channels — that would extinguish marriage amongst
the poorer classes — (the wretches, to whom, of all this world, the sweets
of home are sweetest, and its least enjoyments boundless !) — and that
would stop the current of nature in its onward flow, by means diaboli-
cal, pestilential, and unholy — forms that feature in the system, which,
although but subsequently introduced by its founder, has occupied more
than any other the attention of the public, and the wonder and horror of
all men whose sympathies are not blunted by the vices of the imagina-
tion, or the practice of cruelties to their fellow creature.

This system, then, with its many charms for people in high places —
for with all its absurdities, blasphemies, and inconsistencies, it permitted
the rich to propagate ad libitum, and it is even said that Mr. Malthus
himself is the father of seventeen children, Heaven prosper them to him
in the solitude of his latter days ! — this system became fashionable. In
the wake of its father — the father of the seventeen children— followed
all such men as Mill, McCullogh, Senior, and fifty fellows who wrote
pamphlets that they could not understand, and that nobody else would
read. But as indescribable pamphlets, with the name of a floating theory
inscribed on their title-pages, help to spread the reputation of such
theory, whether said pamphlets be worth half-a- crown or not worth a
rush ; it happened, of course, that the pamphlets, and Old Blue-and-
Yellow to boot, stamped the name of Malthus upon the minds of the
million. And he might have remained there until now, had it not
been for a work in two volumes entitled the " Law of Population/'
written by Mr. Sadler, which made its appearance some time in the
course of last year.

The gigantic grasp, profound reasoning, diversified research, and,
above all, the humane philosophy it inculcated, were one and all
wondrous. Each separate part was a perfect treatise upon a Malthu-
sian fallacy, an incentive to implicit reliance upon the bounties of
Providence, and a chapter in the sublimities of creation. The style was
glowing and enthusiastic ; the proofs, figures that could not be con-
troverted ; the deductions as clear as sparkling water in the sunbow.
The appearance of this work was naturally met with jealousy, and pur-
sued with virulence. Wherever the club-foot had pressed the black soil
of a vindictive heart, there were the simple yet laborious doctrines of the
Law of Population received with dismay and hate. But its enemies
were in the condition of men who fight in a bad cause, and who feel it,
and whose conscience, before the struggle is over, forces them to quail

1831.] Mr. Sadler and the Political Economists. 531

and throw down their arms. This is now happening — Old Blue-and-
Yellow is the last in the field, and he, perchance, may fight [like the
Parthians ; but run he must, or strike.

To convey the spirit of Mr. Sadler's stupendous work — that is its
leading bearings — is as much as we can accomplish within our neces-
sarily circumscribed limits. It will be well to begin with his great ele-
mentary principle, which is a direct refutation of the fundamental doctrine
of the Malthusian system. The main and primary position is, that as
the numbers of mankind increase the tendency to increase diminishes,
thereby assuming that procreation contains within itself the elements
of correction, by the mysterious operation of which its due progress is
rectified. This position is not mere statement, or theory. It is the
sum of many complicated calculations ; it is the result of such a mass
of population returns as were never before collected into any work
professedly statistical; and it is sustained by tabular evidences to
which it is as impossible to refuse conviction as it would be to offer re-
futation.

If the propagation of our species be checked by an agency in nature
itself, and that it never can exceed the amount of vegetable life through
which and by which it is sustained, then the whole system of political
economy which mistakes the meaning of capital, and proceeds upon an
erroneous apprehension of existing or approaching super-fecundity, is
utterly false. To attain the means of settling that question for ever is a
signal blessing to mankind : and even if this Law of Population accom-
plished no more, it would be for this alone entitled to our gratitude.

Our readers will remember that Mr. Malthus maintains the geometric
ratio in the propagation of the human race, and the arithmetical ratio in
that of vegetable life. Now Mr. Sadler maintains that the prolificness
of human beings, otherwise similarly circumstanced, varies inversely as
their numbers; or in the words of Old Blue-and- Yellow, who unluckily
for himself has made his opponent's principle so clear to his readers as
to neutralize his own arguments, that " on a given space, the number of
children to a marriage becomes less and less, as the population becomes
more and more numerous/' Extend this doctrine to nations, con-
tinents, and finally to the whole world, and you have the substance of
Mr. Sadler's Law of Population. It is at once evident that it differs as
widely as pole from pole from the Malthusian system ; that it distinctly
controverts its first and great doctrine ; and that it derives no aids from
appeals to the credulity, the passions, the interest, or the fears of man-
kind. In the latter theory there was, to speak tolerantly of it, a vast
deal of twaddle ; it affected to argue upon moral possibilities ; to draw
lessons of human self-control from instances of individual self-con-
quest ; it demanded assent to assertions without proofs, and passed
on to its final deduction, (that the days, the numbers, and the hap-
piness of mankind ought to be curtailed,) through a sort of trellice-
work of sophistry and sentiment, in which the facts that were mixed
• up were only seen at intervals as they flitted through. On the other
hand, in Mr. Sadler's work, whatever enthusiasm there may be, and
there is much — and it is right there should be a lofty and glorious
enthusiasm in such a cause — the reader, be his prejudices in favour of,
or against, the principle, is never irritated by a display of zeal without
knowledge, or of statistical argument without documentary substantia-
tion— in other words, Mr. Sadler never asks belief in a single principle,

3 Y2

532 The Population Question. QM AY,

or corollary from a principle, unless it be clearly borne out by facts ; nor
does he ever assert a principle that is not amply so borne out. Here is a
stand made at once upon the manner in which the Anti-Superfecundity
doctrines are enunciated in contrast with the loose, half-appeal, and half-,
assumption management of the Malthusian Anti-Humanity theory. But
they could not manage otherwise. When they wanted the world to be-
lieve that human beings were made to inherit misery, and to live, like
Tantalus, on the edge of the ever-rolling stream of sexual temptation,
but forbidden to taste its waters, could they expect to obtain credence ?
They had no figures for that. But we are detaining our readers from
such analysis of Mr. Sadler's proofs as we can afford space to give.

The principle being clearly stated — that the prolificness of human
beings, otherwise similarly circumstanced, varies inversely as their num-
bers— the proofs adduced by Mr. Sadler are thus thrown into a sum-
mary : —

First ; By generally acknowledged facts.

Second ; By the comparative prolificness of marriages in different
countries, equally circumstanced, except in regard to population. .
Third ; By the comparative prolificness of marriages in different
districts of the same countries.

Fourth ; By the comparative prolificness of marriages in towns,
in relation to the number of their inhabitants.

Fiftli ; By the comparative prolificness of marriages in the same
countries and districts at different periods, as the population has
increased.

Sixth ; By the comparative prolificness of marriages in the same
places and districts, at different periods, where the population has
diminished.

Seventh; By the comparative prolificness of marriages as deter-
mined upon physiological principles.

Eighth ; By the analogies of the animal and vegetable kingdoms,
in regard to the principle of reproduction.

Ninth ; By the demonstration afforded by distinct classes of the
human species : and especially the British peerage.
There, Old Blue-and- Yellow, there is a display of tests to which we
challenge you to put Mr. Malthus's creed ! Is there a single aspect of
the question blinked in this ordeal of inquiries? Is there any one way
of examining it omitted ? On the contrary does it not subject the whole
doctrine to the most rigid and unparalleled sifting from first to last ? And
if it be found to come out proven from each and every of those searching
positions, are you not, in plain justice, bound to acknowledge that you
have been labouring to delude the understanding of your readers, and
to practise treachery upon them — or that you have contrived, not for the
first time, to deceive yourself?

We shall now endeavour to give a condensed view of the substance of
the proofs enumerated in the above summary.

First. In evidence of this proof, Mr. Sadler quotes the authorities of
statisticians, physicians, and philosophers, deducing therefrom a sum of
opinion, valuable as bearing distinctly upon the great fact stated. But
as much of this proof is necessarily and inevitably involved in the others
that follow, we pass on to the next.

Second. In the consideration of this proof some qualifying circum-
stances must be observed. The statistical data are unavoidably inaccur-

1831.] Mr. Sadler and the Political Economists. 533

ate, in consequence of the difficulties that in different countries impede
the collection of that sort of information. We must also take into
account the different habits, and the dissimilar influences of soil, climate,
and government, that will be found to prevail in different countries ; so
that this proof, as near as it can approach to correctness in facts, must
yet be subjected to these modifications in principle, and cannot be
expected to do more than indicate the theory. Yet we find, even under
these disadvantages, how fully the law of nature is justified by the
results. The following table exhibits the comparative prolificness of
marriages, as regulated by the density of the countries enumerated,
beginning with the most thinly populated, and proceeding in a gradual
advance to the most densely populated.

Inhabitants Children

on a square mile. to a marriage.

Cape of Good Hope, 1 . 548

North America, 4 . 5-22

Russia in Europe, 23 . 4-94

Denmark, 73 . 4-89

Prussia, 100 . 4*70

France, 140 . 4*22

England, 160 . 3-6(5

We perceive that as the population in a given space increases, the
number of births proportionably diminish. To this view there are
exceptions, such as those to which we have alluded ; but even they
still serve to vindicate the benevolence of the Deity, whose law seems
not to regulate human increase merely in proportion to space, but also
to food. As we advance into the cold latitudes, where the soil is sterile
and the population thin, we find the principle of human increase visibly
contracted. The Laplanders are pronounced by their own historian,
Shefferius, to be unfruitful. So that the exceptions in these instances
are in themselves but more convincing proofs of the important truth that
human beings do not propagate beyond the means of sustentation.
Either way it overthrows the Malthusian system.

Third. When the inquiry descends to the examination of the relative
examples in different parts of the same country, where the people enjoy
the same advantages, natural and artificial, and suffer under the same
evils, the results may be expected to be more minute, accurate, and cer-
tain. But that accuracy and certainty expose the principle to a test out
of which it must come either with complete and decisive triumph, or
absolute defeat. Let us see how it stands this trial in reference to the
censuses of England. Mr. Sadler arranges the counties in the order of
population, beginning as before, with the most thinly populated, and
exhibits all the results in an elaborate table, of which the following pre-
sents the collected proofs : —
No. of Inhabitants to the square mile. No. of Births to 100 Marriages.

Under 100 (2 Counties) 420

From 100 to 150 (9 Counties) 396

150 to 200 (16 Counties) 390

200 to 250 (4 Counties) 388

250 to 300 (5 Counties) 378

300 to 350 (3 Counties) 353

500 to 600 (2 Counties) 331

4000 and upwards (1 County) 246

534 The Population Question. [MAY,

Comment upon this unanswerably document would be impertinent.
It might be supposed that Mr. Sadler had in this test alone abundantly
satisfied himself, and that he needed not to have pushed his inquiries far-
ther. But his ardent spirit .was not contented. He knew that our
English registers, to the disgrace of those to whom large sums of the

Sublic money are disbursed for the preservation of such documents, are
eficient in many essential particulars. Those deficiencies, it is true,
might tell either way ; but he was resolved, by the addition of such
unentered births, marriages and deaths, as could be obtained through the
medium of official queries addressed to every parish in the kingdom, to
subject his proof to a still severer test. Here is the result : —

No. of Inhabitants to a square mile. No. of Births to 100 Marriages.

From 50 to 100 427

100 to 150 414

150 to 200 406

200 to 250 402

250 to 300 392

300 to 350 375

500 and upwards 332

The scale of fecundity again falls in proportion to the denseness of the

population. But the indefatigable inquirer has yet another torture for

the censuses of England, to see if they can be made to yield a solitary

argument against him.

No. of acres to each Inhabitant. No. of Baptisms to 100 Marriages.

Under 1 227

From Ito2 341

2 to 3 348

3 to 4 365

4 to 5 370

5 and upwards 380

In every way then in which it is possible to test the population of
England, we find it prove to mathematical demonstration, the truth of
Mr. Sadler's great principle. Indeed so triumphant a series of proofs
was never displayed on any other question. If the phrenologists, or the
political economists, or the admirers of Mr. St. John Long, had such a
train of evidences to produce, we should never hear the end of their
braz en- trumpet-bio wing.

Having shewn amply how the law of nature works its consequences in
England, it is sufficient to refer our readers to Mr. Sadler's work for the
proofs he derives from the censuses of the British Isles, some of the
counties in England, separately considered, France and Russia, Ireland,
the United States, &c. In each of these his principle is proved on
equally incontrovertible data, the operation of which in the above
instance will have afforded a sufficient example of its results in all.

Fourth. — This branch of the. inquiry leads to the establishment of the
important fact, that marriages are less prolific in proportion to the density
of the population on a given space. Thus, we find in crowded towns
that fecundity diminishes, by which mysterious provision of nature the
evils of excessive numbers are. always anticipated and prevented. The
following abstract presents the results of two tables — the one giving the
prolificness of marriages in one hundred and five towns of England,
being the whole number of those contained in the population abstracts,

1831.] Mr. Sadler and the Political Economists. 535

in -which the marriages, births, and deaths are separately given — the
other pursuing the same inquiry in the rural divisions of the country
where the population is sparingly disseminated, and agriculture mainly
prevails. In the latter we find that the

Annual proportion of marriages to baptisms, are as 100 to 477
In towns under 1,900 inhabitants (1 town) . . ; . . . 100 to 467

From 1,900 to 2,000 (2) 100 to 422

2,000 to 3,000 (10) 100 to 390

3,000 to 4,000 (12) 100 to 360

4,000 to 5,000 (11) 100 to 356

5,000 to 10,000 (30) 100 to 327

10,000 to 20,000 (22) 100 to 304

20,000 to 50,000 (10) 100 to 282

50,000 to 100,000 (4) 100 to 240

100,000 & upwards (3) 100 to 234

Another table of certain towns in Ireland follows this, proving still
more decisively the truth of the original proposition. It is hard to
believe that any credulity could exist after evidence of this irrefragable
character, yet there are such men as Mr. Macauley to be found in the
most enlightened times, and under all possible combinations of circum-
stances. Well may Mr. Sadler ask, " If the proofs adduced in this and
the preceding chapters are not sufficient to place this great and impor-
tant principle of nature beyond the reach of doubt or contradiction, can
any facts, however striking, numerous, and uniform, relating to any
subject whatever, be regarded as amounting to demonstration ?" Cer-
tainly not : and more, if Mr. Sadler could produce such proofs as are
only to be discovered in pure mathematics (and these approach them)
Old Blue-and- Yellow would refuse to assent to them !

Fifth. — One of the benevolent corollaries from Mr. Sadler's main
principle is, that " growing members" have been the great means of
diffusing increasing plenty in every community, and on the contrary,
that et fewness of people" has ever been accompanied by real poverty
and destitution. This very consoling doctrine of the philosopher's creed
is abundantly proved throughout, and although perhaps not sufficiently
indicated by any individual fact, or facts, is placed beyond cavil by the
series of views afforded by the examination of the subject throughout.
The argument here appeals to time. It has hitherto drawn its witnesses
from space. The adjustment of numbers to food is shewn at different
periods in the history of each country. Here is a table to begin with,
shewing the diminishing fecundity of marriages in England, as its
population has increased.

Periods. Population. Births to a Marriage.

1680 .... 5,500,000 4-65

1730 .... 5,800,000 .... 4-25

1770 .... 7,500,000 .... 3-61

1790 ... 8,700,000 .... 3-59

1805 .... 10,678,500 .... 3-50

In not a single instance have we as yet found these scales to contradict
the fundamental law of nature. We could multiply these tables if it
were necessary, for Mr. Sadler's indefatigable zeal has enabled him to
prosecute this branch of the examination through the statistical returns

536 The Population Question. pVlAY,

of France, Russia, Sweden, the Netherlands, Ireland, the United
States, &c. ; but as before, we content ourselves with one example out
of a multitude, merely adding that they all arrive with surprising
agreement at the same conclusion.

Sixth. — Having shewn that prolificness diminishes as the population
numerically advances, the next curious and important point to be proved
is, that prolificness increases with any considerable diminution of popu-
lation. This is the most extraordinary aspect the whole inquiry assumes:
and the means by which it is shewn exhibit, perhaps, more strongly
than any other part of the work, the great powers of investigation,
and the unwearying industry of the author. It naturally divides
itself into those great mutalities that have occasionally visited the earth
in the form of epidemics, and those fluctuating mortalities to which all
great communities are subjected. In both cases the principle is most
triumphantly proved. It might be expected that the test would fail in
some of its applications ; but such is the regularity, consistency, and
certainty of this law of our being, that the deeper we enter into the
inquiry, the more satisfactory do the evidences become, and the more
impregnable a position do the whole body of proofs take, both relatively
and in the abstract. As we can only afford to shadow forth the sums-
total of Mr. Sadler's tables, referring to the original for the particulars,
we must deny ourselves the pleasure of quoting his very curious tabular
view of the history of fecundity throughout the disastrous era of the
plague in London, and a few years following it. Here is an abstract of
it, however, shewing the proofs, divided into sections of ten years.

Ten Years
ending

Deaths.

Besides
of the Plague.

Total
of Deaths.

Conceptions.

1610

61,299

50,390

111,689

62,979

1620

80,843

829

81,672

76,200

1630

100,057

36,987

136,987

82,534 ,

1640

103,527

15,892

119,419

100,133

1650

104,439

13,663

118,102

74,397

1660

128,860

143

129,003

67,328

1670

182,109

70,699

252,808

110,410

The reasoning founded on these data is full of interest, and must have
the effect of convincing every candid mind that the intricacies through
which the subject is necessarily pursued, are of a nature to entitle that
man who has succeeded in threading them, at all events to the respect of
his adversaries, if their political prejudices exclude him from their assent
and co-operation. It will be perceived that, although in the table now
before us the proportions are not accurate, yet the great result suffici-
ently vindicates the operation of nature. Perhaps the arbitrary division
of the period into portions of ten years each is not just, since the true
working of the principle can best be seen in the progressive development
year after year, of the relative mortality and procreation; but even in these
totals we find that the period of the greatest mortality was distinguished
by the greatest fruitfulness, and that the number of conceptions never
sinks below, but always rises above that standard : so that even the
deviations favour the principle. When we consider the immediate effect
of a depopulating epidemic, it might be enough for our purpose to prove

1831.] Mr. Sadler and the Political Economists. 537

that the number of conception did not decrease, which would be rela-
tively speaking an actual increase ; but here we find that not only did
the conceptions not decrease, but that they really increased, a coincidence
with the great law hardly to have been anticipated.

The calculations drawn from the effects of varying mortalities are
equally complete. Of course, in those cases the operation of the
mysterious, but ever labouring law of population, is not so visible, nor
its sphere of evidence so extensive; and it is liable to many incidental
interruptions, and minor influences, that tend to render its display in
figures less apparently convincing than that of the phenomena that
breaks up the order and harmony of our system. Yet in spite of all
these obstacles, it developes itself clearly and unequivocally, and offers
so incontrovertible an auxiliary to the great argument as to leave no
doubt of the constant action of the principle for which Mr. Sadler con-
tends. From a variety of statistical tables, comprising every country in
Europe from whence such facts could be derived, collected from city and
country districts, and comprehending a period of time sufficiently exten-
sive to render the uniformity of the deductions of universal application,
Mr. Sadler derives these curious and astounding results. Taking a
series of mortal, average, and healthful years, here are the deductions :—
Proportions of conceptions to 1000 Marriages.

In the most healthy years, 4015

In the average years, 4084

In the mortal years, 4254

This, we frankly admit, appears almost incredible. And when we
remember the fact that in the mortal years a fewer number of marriages
take place than in the other periods, the wise and benevolent dispensa-
tions of Providence in this regard will derive a still higher claim on our
gratitude and wonder. Of the registers of eighty-eight places enumer-
ated in Sir Frederick Eden's History of the Poor, here are the results of
a similar examination : —

Deaths. Births.

In the most mortal years, 88,349 . . 92,052

In the most healthy years, 65,564 . . 90,287

The investigation is pushed into other censuses, all directly tending to
the same point. The importance of this very decisive argument is
greater than perhaps it may appear at first sight. Mr. Malthus maintains
the necessity of a " preventive check/' the whole of the dark purport of
which we cannot venture to translate into intelligible language ; but we
may trust ourselves so far as to explain, that a part of its object is to
suppress the disposition of the multitude to intermarry, affirm-
ing that it is necessary to keep back by that means the apprehended
numerical excess. Now, the moral effect of Mr. Sadler's argument in
this instance is to shew that the seasons of mortality, instead of being
sterile, in order to make room for marriages, as the Malthusian doctrines
assume, are actually remarkably fertile — which is, as it were, a sort of
compensation for the ravages of death, instead of death being a punish-
ment for the extreme procreation of the species. If the reader will turn
this strong antithesis in his mind, he will have in a short compass a pretty
clear notion of the anti-population philosophy.

Seventh. The comparative prolificness of marriages as determined

upon physiological principles, affords a debateable ground which none

of the other proofs admit. On that account we should prefer calling it

an ingenious argument or illustration, rather than a proof, although it

M.M. New Series. VOL. XI.— No. 65. 3 Z

538 The Population Question. [MAY,

is not a proof only in so far as it rests on doctrines, generally received,
instead of demonstrable facts that cannot be denied. It is therefore a
confirmation of a principle already proved. We cannot hope to express
this confirmation in shorter terms than we find it conveyed in the lan-
guage of Mr. Sadler.

" The first and lowest condition in which human beings are presented
to our contemplation, is that in which they are mere hunters, or little
more than superior animals of prey ; a state of extreme severity, whether
it respects the fatigue, or the privations it implies. It demands, moreover,
a vast extent of country, in proportion to the inhabitants, to render such
pursuits available for the purpose of sustaining life ; and, therefore, as
they multiply, a more ample and certain supply of those animals on which
they subsist becomes necessary, and the nomadic or pastoral must there-
fore succeed to the predatory condition. Numbers still increase, and the
agricultural state necessarily ensues, being the simplest form of civilized
society ; that which obviously supposes the scantiest population, and
unquestionably the most laborious, not ' to say necessitous habits, of any
with which we are in these days personally conversant, though greatly
superior, in all respects, to the preceding conditions.' Population still
enlarges ; and while all classes partake of the general benefit, multitudes
are liberated from the lower drudgeries of life ; many are found devot-
ing themselves to higher and more intellectual pursuits; and not a few
exist in a state of- the most luxurious refinement.

" Such has, in many respects, been the history of almost every country
upon earth ; nor could a community, originally barbarous, and increas-
ing in numbers, continue to subsist, much less attain to a high state of
civilization, in any other course. Two facts, essential to the argument,
present themselves to our consideration in this progression of society :
the first is, that, at every step of it, the means of subsistence become more
certain in their supply, more sufficient in quantity, and, above all,
greatly improved in their kind. The second, that human labour is, at the
same time, as regularly diminished in its duration, and mitigated in its
intensity. In short, increase of population is, in every properly regulated
community, the cause of diffusing greater ease and enjoyment, and of
dispensing greater plenty ; and the ancient maxim, that people are the
riches of a country, is, in every sense of the expression, fully confirmed."
— Fo/. 2, p. 572-3.

This lucid retrospect brings the whole question into a very small space.
It distinctly shews that population precedes food, (in the sense of pro-
ductiveness) that food increases with and in proportion to the human
species ; and, which is the great object of the physiologist, that where
the population is scanty, poor, laborious, and inured to hardships, it is
most prolific ; and, vice versa, where it is densely planted, and where
labour and want are either mitigated or unknown, and the comforts,
rising upward to the luxuries of life, are enjoyed, it is least prolific ;
thus reversing the Malthusian doctrine, and proving that man, instead of
increasing beyond the supply of food, increases that supply with his own
increase, and by a mysterious law of nature, accommodates himself at the
point of luxury, to the means of subsistence Mr. Sadler gives physio-
logical instances to prove this latter curious fact, but we cannot afford to
quote them. It is sufficient for our purposes that it is satisfactorily
shewn that in proportion to the poverty of a people is their tendency to
propagate, and by that means to urge on the undeveloped bounties of
the earth, and that in proportion as they rise above necessity that ten-
dency gradually fades away.

1831.] Mr. Sadler and the Political Economists. 539

Eighth* The analogy between the animal and vegetable kingdoms proves
that the physiological principle is the same in both. There exists
between them a striking conformity in the processes of reproduction.
Plants luxuriously nourished will not, to use the agricultural phrase,
"seed again." It is the same with man, and animals of the lower grade.
Animals remarkable for their symmetry and perfection, and that are fed
profusely to keep up the tone of beauty, are invariably infertile. These
singular coincidences, are sufficiently remarkable in character, and uni-
-form in their operation to establish on an imperishable basis, this great
fundamental law of nature. • . :.

Ninth. In order to invest the argument with a degree of individuality,
although it thereby confessedly loses some of its comprehensiveness, Mr.
Sadler takes a class of persons raised above sordid wants, in whom all the
advantages of blood, luxury, ease of mind, and station were combined,
•in order to demonstrate yet more forcibly the fact that as the popula-
tion increases in numbers and reaches towards affluence, the tendency to
fecundity declines. He selects the British peerage, because the registers
of their families are at once accurate and attainable. The results are
that the peers are decidedly a marrying class ; that they marry early in
.life; and that although on the average they live to a greater age than
the members of any inferior and less favoured class,, their marriages are
less prolific !

These are the prominent features of Mr. Sadler's theory. We have
endeavoured to place before our readers a sketch of the series of proofs
.by which it is illustrated and established ; and although we could not
perform that justice to the details of the subject which they deserved,
we trust we have rendered the chief propositions embraced in the main
principle clear. On looking back upon what we have written, it oc-
,curs to us that a short recapitulation of the truths that incidentally arise
through the examination may prevent that difficulty of retention
which sometimes attends a lengthened statement. The facts established
by Mr. Sadler, as flowing from the great law of population, may be thus
summed up.

As population increases, fecundity declines.

The thinnest population is the most prolific.

In cold latitudes, where the earth is sterile and the population scanty,
the tendency to propagation is contracted; which forms an exception to
the general rule elsewhere prevailing, but proves the universal applica-
tion, adapted to varying circumstances, of the divine law, that man
shall not outgrow the means of sustentation.

In towns, where the population is closely packed, the average fecun-
dity is lower than in the country, where the population is scattered.

The higher ranks who enjoy the comforts of life are less prolific than
the lower, who labour and undergo privations.

The increase of population is always accompanied by an increase of
prosperity ; and vice versa.

Early marriages are less productive than those of more mature age.

As the population of countries increases, the checks of War, Pesti-
lence, and Famine operate very languidly, less frequently, and less
fatally. This is proved, in the only way it can be proved, by collation
and comparison of historical facts ; and it completely refutes the Mal-
thusian doctrines that these calamities come in to keep down the ten-
dency of mankind to increase beyond the supply of food.

Such are a few, of the side-lights that break in upon us as we traverse

3 Z 2

540 The Population Question. QMAY,

the labyrinths of this interesting question. They are all necessary to
the perfect development of the subject, and lead separately into paths
of inquiry that will amply repay the cares of the student.

Political economy stands wholly opposed to the wisdom of this theory,
on the front of which are engraved the characters of justice and bene-
volence. When Mr. Sadler's work appeared it was for a time neglected
by the press. The majority of periodical writers were confessedly in-
adequate to take a part in the controversy. Besides it requires some
courage to stand up against received opinions, even although their pal-
pable folly, fallacy, and iniquity be distinctly exhibited. The first
Journal, we believe, that openly advocated the law of population was the
Atlas, which, on all political subjects, is opposed to Mr. Sadler. The
Standard, the political adherent of that gentleman, also gave its powerful
assistance to the promulgation of his views. These two papers stood
alone. Then came the Edinburgh Review, with its discharge of heavy
artillery, and its blundering wit, to take up at the eleventh hour the ex-
amination of a topic which it would gladly have permitted to sink into
obscurity, but which was making such way with the thinking part of
society as to render its recognition inevitable. The article it put forth
on that occasion will be certain of immortality. It will descend to pos-
terity as a part of the history of this struggle in Philosophy to rescue
humanity from the degradation of an unnatural and impious creed in
Morals and Statistics. The name of Dennis is for ever linked to that of
Pope : but the picture it presents to the mind is that of a fool dogging
the shadow of a wise man. So will Mr. Macauley be hereafter re-
membered as one who played antics in the path of a Philosopher.

We said we could not venture to translate into intelligible language
the meaning of Mr. Malthus's " preventive check." What then must be
the true character of the system which the Edinburgh Review espouses,
since its mere enunciation would pollute our pages ? Oh ! holy Nature,
how hast thou been defamed by these economists ! How heartless must
he be who propounds to his fellow-creatures, the revolting doctrine that
commands them to crush the play of their inborn instincts, to silence the
voice of sensibility and sympathy within, and to defile a glorious man-
hood, by turning aside from the walk of duty and happiness into the
dark ways of unnatural indulgences ! The " preventive check" is an
impiety of an unspeakably disgusting description. It cuts off all the
finer attributes of our race, that distinguish us from -the beasts of the
field : it proposes so to regulate the intercourse of the sexes, as to defeat
the especial purposes for which it was ordained ; and it hints at the hor-
rible alternative of a celibacy more criminal and infamous than the worst
licentiousness of the worst periods of oriental history. And this is the
system which Old Blue-and- Yellow advocates with an energy at once
daring and disastrous ; this is the system which the liberal journal — the
organ of whigs, reformers, retrenchers, and demagogues — defends from
first to last, as if the liberties of the subject, and the general good of man-
kind, were absolutely dependent upon its truth. We think we shall
satisfactorily shew before we close, that the said Old Blue-and- Yellow is
a witness not to be believed ; and that, whether he thinks himself to be
honest or not, he is utterly inconsistent with, and treacherous to his own
professions.

First — how does the Reviewer meet Mr. Sadler's stupendous body of
proofs ? He picks out an objection here and there, works himself up
into a fit of rhetoric, hits his point with a piquant witticism, and dis-

1831.] Mr. Sadler and the Political Economists. 541

misses the inquiry with a sneer. He takes one table out of a multitude ;
chooses some part that suits his object ; twists that part until it bends to
his design ; and then, having ingeniously shewn that the brick has a
flaw, condemns in a most victorious manner the architecture of the whole
house. He finds Mr. Sadler tracing his subject laboriously step by step
through its regular gradations, and proving his statements to demonstra-
tion as he goes along ; and seeing that he cannot rebut Tacts, except by
some disingenuous and dishonest artifice, he exclaims, " Oh ! this looks
-very well ; but let it be remembered that Mr. Sadler has packed 'the
cards after his fashion ; we shall see how they turn out wlien we have
shuffled them a little."— This shuffling (a word most felicitously chosen)
proves to be no other than a picking and choosing of such cards as will
tell but one way, and so arriving at a mighty triumphant conclusion, on
a general law, by the result of an examination of partial particulars. He
is his own Polonius,* arid cries out, " It is mighty like a whale !" while
his ear takes up the echo, and his pen writes down that it is a whale.
He brings no facts of his own, but avails himself of Mr. Sadler's. He
has no power to illustrate the subject, and exhibits no farther cleverness
than that which comprises the tact of decomposing the materials before
him, and fabricating them into other forms. In the management of all
this he is adroit, and takes care not to betray to the mass of the lookers-
on that sleight of hand by which he shuffles the aforesaid cards. But
we have detected him. We are enabled to expose the tricks by which
he mystifies the public : and they are tricks unworthy of literature, and
degrading even to Old Blue-and-Yellow.

The particular tricks of this Reviewer have been already exposed else-
where,* and it would be but an idle expenditure of space to enter into an
elabofate consideration of them here. It is sufficient for our purpose to
furnish a specimen of 'his logic, and to shew how he reasons on and
from figures. Here is a characteristic exhibition of his logic.

" The theory of Mr. Malthus, says Mr. Sadler, cannot be true, because
it asserts the existence of a great and terrible evil, and is therefore incon-
sistent with the goodness of God. We answer thus : we know that there
are in the world great and terrible evils. In spite of these evils, we be-
lieve in the goodness of God. Why may we not then continue to believe
in his goodness, though another evil should be added to the list ?" Edin.
Review, No. CIV. p. 507-

Now this short sentence contains a falsification of a simple fact, and
an illogical deduction from that falsification. Short as it is, it is never-
theless wonderfully comprehensive. In the first place, Mr. Sadler never
said that Mr. Malthus's theory could not be true, because it asserted the
existence of a great and terrible evil, and that it was therefore incon-
sistent with the goodness of God. On the contrary, Mr. Sadler said
that the evil asserted by Mr. Malthus was inconsistent with the goodness
of God, and that, therefore, Mr. Malthus's theory could not be true. We
see how easily the web can be unravelled, and how poor this creature
looks when we come to expose his artifices. But granting this falsifi-
cation to our despicable arguer, let us see what he makes of it. He says,
we know there are great and terrible evils, and yet in spite of these evils
we believe in the goodness of God. Why then, he adds, with his usual
chuckle, may we not continue to believe in his goodness, though another
evil be added to the list ? Does not the man see that confidence in the

* See a pamphlet published by Ridgway, which refutes the article that appeared
in the last number of the Edinburgh Review.

542 The Population Question. [MAY,

goodness of God, in spite of evils that we know> does not justify the ex-
tension of that belief to evils that we do not know. In that consists the
•whole difference, but that difference involves the whole theory. We
know, for instance, that we are subjected to physical pain, yet still we
confide in the goodness of God ; but we are not, therefore, out of the
fulness of our confidence in that goodness, to believe in the existence of
other assumed evils, such as that of super-fecundity, of which we do not
know. Our Reviewer does more foolish things than that of putting the
car before the horse; he sometimes puts the horse into the car; and
sometimes turns the car upside down. It is natural that he should now
and then find himself in the mire.

It will be observed that Mr. Sadler always arranges his tables in
their natural order ; that is, he places them according to their relative
importance, just as we run figures, 1, 2, 3, 4, £c., in their proper
progression. If Mr. Sadler begin with the lowest, he goes on regularly
to the highest. If he begin with the highest, he comes down regularly
.to the lowest. Now, it is quite clear that this is not only the correct
method of estimating the truth or falsehood of his principle, but that it
is also the most rigid that could be devised. But our Reviewer calls
this method " packing." We should like to know what the natural
method is, if this be artificial? What the proper adjustment of quan-
tities, if their regular ascent and descent be "packing?" Now here is
a specimen taken from one of Mr. Sadler's tables which the Reviewer
considers to be " packing." It gives the legitimate births in the follow-
ing proportions of the population in France, where there are to each
inhabitant

Births.
From 4 to 5 hectares* there are to every 1000 marriages . . 5,130

3 to 4 ditto 4,372

2 to 3 ditto 4,250

1 to 2 ditto V 4,234

•06to 1 ditto 4,146

and -06 ditto 2,657.

Here we perceive, as usual, that as the population thickens the prin-
ciple of fecunditv declines. It is difficult to foresee how our candid
Reviewer meets this statement, and still more difficult to anticipate the
argument by which he sets about proving that the method by which
these convincing results are obtained should be designated as " pack-
ing." He says, that if we look at the departments singly, we shall
discover that there is not a single one of them in the place it ought to
occupy. That is, that there is not a single one of the departments that
will in itself prove the universal law of Nature. To be sure there is
not, and who, except our sapient Old Blue-and- Yellow, ever expected
there would. He next advises his reader, that such a department is
tenth in one table, fourteenth in another table, and only thirty-first in a
third table ; that another department, which ought to be third, is
twenty-second by the table which places it highest ; that the one which
ought to be eighth, is fiftieth or sixtieth ; that that which ought to be
tenth from the top, is at about the same distance from the bottom, &c.
Now, not to say any thing about the littleness of mind which all this
hubbub and much ado about nothing betrays, does not the intelligent
inquirer at once perceive the character of the criticism to which Mr.
Sadler is subjected by this honest Reviewer ? Is it not self-evident
* A French hectare consists of between two and three English acres.

1831.] Mr. Sadler and the Political Economists. 543

that he picks out instances, jumbles them,, contrasts them at his own
pleasure to suit his own views, and that while he is accusing Mr. Sadler,
who gives the facts in arithmetical progression, of " packing," he
is most shamelessly " packing" them himself ? The parade of phrases
about placing one department twenty-second, that ought to be third,
and another fiftieth, that ought to be eighth, &c., is a mere confusion of
words to perplex the reader, who will never take the trouble to ascertain
whether the Reviewer's calculations be correct, but will probably take
it for granted that Mr. Sadler's tables must be constituted of a mass of
fallacies. Another method of " shuffling" ( ' ' I thank thee^ Jew, for
teaching me that word,") used by our veracious critic, may be thus
imitated, although any imitation must fall short of the original —

" Take away the two first departments, then draw a line at the sixth ;
omit the next department, and add together the tenth and twelfth ;
then take the last but one, and run up to the fourteenth ; and by calcu-
lating the average of these you will perceive that the result is diametri-
cally opposed to Mr. Sadler's principle."

We can only say, that if it were not, the Reviewer would be dedicating
his ingenuity to a very idle purpose. It must not be supposed that our
imitation is far-fetched. We assure the unconscious public that such is
the mode of examination adopted, and also that the Reviewer has the
impudence to call the results he thus produces " strong cases !" Why,
give us any table — except Lord Althorp's budget, which we candidly
declare we could not render more perplexing than its noble propounder
made it — and permit us to slash it in this manner, and if we do not
make it prove the very reverse of that which it actually proves, we hereby
allow all the clubs in London to put Old Mag. upon the same shelves
with Old Blue-and-Yellow — than which we cannot conceive ourselves
submitting to a greater indignity.

We cannot dismiss Mr. Macauley until we give the following passage
from the last article in the Edinburgh. He is herein nibbling at the
tables of the French population.

"" By dividing the departments in a particular manner, Mr. Sadler has
produced results which he contemplates with great satisfaction. Bui if
we draw the lines a little higher up, or a little lower down, we shall find
that all his calculations are thrown into utter confusion ; and that the
phenomena, if they indicate any thing, indicate a law the very reverse of
that which he has propounded." — E. R. No. CIV. p. 516.

Here our reviewer betrays himself, by letting out the secret of his
refutatory process. The drawing the lines a little higher up, or a little
lower down, means no more than the disturbing of the natural order of
the proofs, and the distortion of facts to suit a purpose. He is not can-
did enough to tell his readers that Mr. Sadler does not calculate one table
in one way, and another in another, but that he adopts throughout the whole
of his table the same uniform mode of investigation. There is no capricious,
or dishonest method adopted ; there is no Procrustean bed to make the
table suit the proof, or the proof the table ; but each table harmonizes
with the rest, in' its arrangement, its divisions, and its results. Now, the
reviewer's method is altogether different from this. Instead of letting the
tables speak for themselves, he selects only such parts as he wants, and
places those only in such relative positions as will produce contradictions.
Of course he must by this process distort each table differently. There
is no uniformity of plan, progressing distinctly to the one given end ;
but all is contrariety, sophistry, and chaos. The operation of the laws
of nature is uniform and universal ; so ought to be the method of prov-

544 The Pojwlation Question. QMAY,

ing it. Mr. Sadler's proofs are uniform and universal ; but the review-
er's are distracted and confined. Which of these, think you, honest Mr.
Napier, is the more likely to be true ? Having shewn that by " shifting
the line higher up or lower down, he can produce any statement he
pleases," the reviewer adds that "the phenomena, if they indicate any
thing, indicate a law the very reverse of that which Mr. Sadler has pro-
pounded." Why, goose-cap, if your theory be right, and Mr. Sadler's
wrong, " the phenomena," as you call them, instead of f ' indicating any
thing," should prove the truth of your theory. How is your theory, or
Mr. Sadler's, or any one else's to be proved, unless by the evidence of
population returns ? And now that you have those population returns,
why do you not shew that they prove your theory ? You tell us that if
they indicate any thing, they indicate something the reverse of Mr. Sad-
ler's theory ; but that is not enough ; they ought to be susceptible of
affording two distinct proofs instead of one hypothetical indication ; they
ought to prove, first, that Mr. Sadler's theory is false ; and, second, that
Mr. Malthus's is true. Shew us that, thou last of the race of the wise
men of Gotham, and we will acknowledge that you have some preten-
sions to enter upon the discussion.

But we have wasted enough of words upon this creature of the Old
Blue-and-Yellow school, and shall content ourselves with a closing obser-
vation on the infidelity that marks the proceedings of that Review. This
question is essentially a question that goes to establish the right of the
poor to live. The political economists would invest the aristocracy with
the exclusive right to enjoy life, and taste of all the privileges which
Nature in her bounty has showered upon Man. Mr. Sadler vindicates
the Universality of Happiness. He says, or rather the obvious deduction
to be drawn from his pages is, that the distinctions which have sprung
up in the formation and distribution of society ought to have no penal
influence upon natural prerogatives : that man should alike throughout
all grades taste the sweet delights that are spread before him in that ban-
quet, which was not prepared by human hands; that the Affections, the
Hopes, the Sympathies, arid the multitudinous throng of Sensations that
fill the Heart, are no more called into existence for the rich man's sole
enjoyment, than are the glorious lights which, like beacons, take up their
eternal stations in the sky, placed there for the exclusive illumination of
the rich man's night ; that all that is given by God is given in common *
and that we who live in affluence making laws for our fellow men, have
no right to make a law, or urge a proposition, that has for its object the
annihilation of the Natural Rights of the Poor. What then must we think
of the Edinburgh Review, which professes the popular creed, when we
find it abetting the unnatural, and unjust, and oppressive views which
Mr. Sadler combats. Of course these views lead to political results. All
philosophy is political. The original principles of all branches of philo-
sophy are of application to various departments in the science of politics;
and the anti-humanity tenets of the Edinburgh Review, lead to the most
Disastrous and fatal political fallacies. We now leave Mr. Macauley, and
Old Blue-and-Yellow to the tender mercies of the public. We have
done our part. Should, another arm be raised in the contest, we shall be
found armed for the fight. In the mean time it will be curious to observe
how the Edinburgh will endeavour to escape the responsibility its errors
have already incurred. .That it'must, and will ultimately renounce MaL*
thus we entertain no .doubt ; but, for the delectation of amateur super-
fecunditarians, we shall carefully note the progress of the Second Apos-
tacy. .... . >, . . . . •„ .. • " .. . . i . : ^ •

C 545 }

NOTES OF THE MONTH ON AFFAIRS IN GFNERAL.

WHEN the French have lost a battle, they always swear that it was
lost by treachery. The sauve qui pent is regularly traced to a lofty
origin. No " bandy-legged drummer/' no faint-hearted captain of the
guards, no half-dozen regiments, peppered beyond all Gallic patience,
and moving to the rear without leave of absence, has any thing to
do with the affair. The whole is a sly contrivance of some rogue of a
field-marshal, bribed by foreign gold, and on the strength of a heavy
purse consenting to tarnish the national honour.

On precisely the same principle our politicians, when after a short
burst of triumph they begin to discover that the day is against them,
always cry out secret influence. The leading Whig journal thus makes
the discovery that the Reform scheme is going to the dogs, and, of all
people under the smoky canopy of London, who is the antagonist ? — the
Queen !

(t Reports have been much circulated, with reference to a belief of an
improper interference on the part of an Illustrious Personage on the subject of
the Reform Bill. We know that lady to be as much distinguished for the
most amiable feelings, and for a just sense of her duties, as she is by her
exalted station : with such feelings, every thing tending to political intrigue,
or to an active part in the measures of a party, is absolutely incompatible ;
and we are as confident as we are of our existence that no attempt could pro-
ceed from that quarter to disturb the mind of the sovereign, or throw difficul-
ties in the way of his ministers."

We firmly believe that the Queen has no more to do with the
break-down of the Bill than the Emperor of Timbuctoo. But the cry is
symptomatic — it is evidence of failure, and we may rely on the clamour
of the advocates of the measure for the proof of their fears. Now that
we are on the subject of royalty, why will not some of the royal and
noble authors of the day enlighten us on the name of the fashionable
nude, on whom the Court itself fixed its critic eyes ?

" A reproof has been addressed from an illustrious quarter to a celebrated
fashionable beauty, on the indecorum of her costume at the drawing room,
which was such as to excite universal surprise."

The announcement awakes all our curiosity too, as to the degree of
the developement in question. For on our faith, as cavaliers, we have
seen admitted into drawing-rooms, figures constructed on a principle of
such perfect candour, that the eye might as well doubt of their shape
as of the Venus de Medicis, or a naked negress. What could go
beyond those we cannot easily imagine, at least in a climate where the
east wind reigns for one six months, and the Lincolnshire fogs are
paramount for the other.

Frederic Reynolds, who retains his pleasantry under the frosts of, who
can tell how many years ? has filled his Dramatic Annual with pleasant
wrath against the powers, plays, and things that be. But his passions
burst out most oratorically, where the sound of " salary,"— word dear
to the sons of St. Stephen's, as well as of Thalia — comes to sting them
into vengeance. What can be more Demosthenic than the following ?

" There be players who now-a-days receive, twenty, thirty, — ay, fifty
pounds per night ; whilst Mrs. Siddons, in the ( meridian of her glory,'
received one thousand pounds for eighty nights (i. e. about twelve pounds

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 65. 4 A

546 Notes of the Month on QMAY,

per night). Mrs. Jordan's salary, in her meridian, amounted to thirty guineas
per week. John Kemble, when actor and manager at Covent Garden, was
paid thirty-six pounds per week ; George Cooke, twenty pounds ; Lewis,
twenty pounds, as actor and manager ; Edwin, the best buffo and burletta
singer that ever trod the English stage, only fourteen pounds per week ; and
Mrs. H. Siddons, by far the best representative of Juliet I ever saw, nine
pounds per week. After this, may we not exclaim—* Ye little stars, hide your
diminished heads !' "

It is hard to stand up against such a whirlwind. But still we may
ask, why do managers give such salaries now ? Certainly not for love
of the actors. The true answer is, they find it worth their while.
Why do actors demand such salaries ? Because every man has a right
to sell his talents as high as he can, and the few years during which an
actor can be secure of popularity, make it necessary for him to make
the most of his time. The lower salaries of the Kembles, &c. thirty
years ago, were not so much under the present rate, when we consider
the enormous rise of price in every thing necessary for human support.
And lastly, because a well conducted theatre is able to pay any salary
that can be fairly equal to the ability of any performer. The fact is
that the decline of theatrical profits is altogether owing to the decline of
theatrical writing. During the period when the theatres were supplied
with a constant succession of new performances, various as they were
in point of merit, and even in point of success, the theatres throve.
Sheridan's theatre was the first to exhibit symptoms of ruin, because
Sheridan was at once a genius and an idler, rendered too fastidious by
the former to make use of the talents of inferior men, and by the latter
never taking the trouble to make any exertion of his own. The plan
of this man, who was made to be undone, was to employ great per-
formers, at great salaries, of course. The time soon arrived when the
public grew weary of seeing the same performances for the hundredth
time, deserted the theatre, left the great salaries to be looked for in empty
benches, and walked over in a body to old Harris, who gave large
prices to authors, and had of course every thing that was worth having,
paid his actors moderately but punctually, and finally made his fortune,
by his slight comedies, moderate actors, and small theatre. But the
moral of the tale receives its full confirmation from the subsequent fate
of Harris himself. In his old age he abandoned his system, lavished
his money on shew, and a theatre twice too large for convenience or
productiveness, ventured on the Sheridan maxim, of " away with
authois, give me the scene-painter and the carpenter ;" and finished in a
few years by losing every shilling of his fortune, and leaving his theatre
under a load of debt, from which it has never recovered.

It seems to be an established fact in the history of medicine that there
is no disease which is not capable of a cure; though undoubtedly
there remain some of which the cure is so rare, that the disease may,
in our present state of knowledge, be generally considered all but
desperate. Of those, all the maladies which attack the nervous system
seem still the farthest from hope, partly because our ignorance of the
nervous system is the most remarkable, and partly because its maladies
have the most rapid and violent influence on the frame. Hydrophobia
has hitherto baffled all regular treatment, and " locker-jaw," when
arrived at a certain height, seems to bid defiance to medicine. How-

1831.] Affairs in General 547

ever, the following case, stated in a periodical work by Mr. Joy, a
surgeon, of Norfolk, may lead to some important investigation.

" A chaff-cutter, about twelve years of age, apparently in good health at the
time when he was exercising his occupation, so injured one of his fingers as to
render immediate amputation of it at the first phalanx necessary. Although
the wound went on very favourably, locked jaw carne on when it was nearly
healed. Notwithstanding the usual remedies — as, opium in large doses, mer-
cury, musk, and other anti-spasmodics — were actively employed on the first
appearance of the disease, the spasms increased in violence, and extended to
the muscles of the back, producing the convulsive contractions of the muscles,
termed opisthotonos. The anti-spasmodics and warm bath having totally failed
to afford the slightest relief, after pushing them to their fullest extent for
ten days, Mr. Joy determined to give the muriated tincture of iron a trial.
He accordingly ordered ten drops to be administered every hour in a little
water, which the loss of a few teeth allowed of being done without much
difficulty. After continuing this medicine twenty-four hours, the spasmodic
affection of the muscles was evidently much diminished. The following day
he was nearly free from pain. The medicine was continued in the same quan-
tity, and at the same intervals ; and the disease so rapidly decreased in vio-
lence, evidently under its influence, that he was perfectly well in the course
of a few days."

The public are tired of the vulgar ravings of such fellows as Hunt
and Hume, as of course those people have no other object than to talk
themselves into notice. But why does not some honest and plain-
spoken English gentleman, who dabbles in neither Greek Loans nor
Liquid Blacking, apply himself to the consideration of the enormous
waste that occurs hourly in public matters ? Whoever that man may be
he may be assured that, by this line of conduct, he would be of more
use to his country, do more honour to himself, and, if such were his
object, gain a more extended and enduring popularity than any and all
the prating patriots of the day. Let such a man take up the following
extract from the speech of Lord Althorp, his Majesty's Chancellor of
the Exchequer.

" The original estimate for Buckingham Palace, sanctioned by Parliament,
was £496,000., to which was to be added a further sum of £3,500. for sculp-
ture, making a total of £499,500. The expenditure on the palace up to the
midsummer of 1830— the latest period at which those accounts were made up
• — was £576,353. ; thus leaving an excess above the estimate sanctioned of
£76,000. in round numbers. As about £5,000. of this, however, could be
realized by a sale of the machinery, &c., the excess might be taken at
£71,000. ! Notwithstanding this excess of expenditure over the income, he
did not mean to say that Buckingham Palace was at all in a situation, or even
nearly so, to be inhabited by any one. The estimate of the works not yet
began was £21,000 ; the estimate of the works ordered by the late king, and
not included in Mr. Nash's estimate, £25,000 ; the garden, £4,000. These
items remained still to be provided for, not being calculated in the estimate of
Mr. Nash, who, however, had exceeded his own estimate in the sum of
£46,000."

Thus by the Parliamentary paper, the money actually expended on
building the shell of the Pimlico Palace was at the lowest computation
£71,000 above half a million of pounds sterling ! with works to be done
estimated at £50,000 more. But every body knows that the estimate
is always under the expense in matters of this order, and as Mr. Nash
has exceeded one estimate by no less than £46,000, it is to be presumed
that a handsome allowance must be made here also.

4A2

548 Notes of the Month on [MAY,

And let it be remembered by John Bull, who pays for all, that, for
this enormous sum a building has been raised, which is at present
utterly useless. That it at present can afford a tenement to nothing but
the rats, and that in those estimates furniture, and the innumerable
things necessary to complete a palace for a residence, are not adverted to.
Before that Pimlico Palace can be fit for the reception of the King,
another half million must be extracted from the pockets of John Bull.

Then come the repairs of Windsor Castle, which though no man
would grudge, if they were actual and necessary repairs of a great
national edifice, as the castle is, seem to have been characterised by just
the same want of taste and economy. But here the furniture is the
galling affair.

In order to check the estimate, three commissioners were appointed,
and they sanctioned an estimate of £233,990. The expenditure incurred,
however, appeared to be in the Chamberlain's department, £289,718 —
in the Lord Steward's department, £1,768 — and for the tapestry, £3,550,
making a total of £295,036, leaving an excess of £61,000 on the esti-
mate sanctioned by Parliament. In the furniture supplied, the principal
excess was in the account of one tradesman. The estimate for the work
was £143,000, but his bill came to £203,000.

The furniture of a portion of the castle has already cost upwards of
£300,000. The combined cost of the Pimlico Palace, in which the
King cannot reside, and Windsor Castle, in which he probably will
not reside a month in the year, is actually at this moment one million
four hundred thousand pounds ! Lord Althorp declares that all this
deserves to be inquired into, and in particular the estimate of that
dashing dealer who in an estimate of £143,000, contrived to make an
advance of £60,000. And his lordship is perfectly right. The whole
transaction demands the most rigid inquiry. The country will be satis-
fied with nothing less, and he may rely on it, that unless such investi-
gation be prompt, complete, and clear, the consequences may be
formidably injurious to the quiet of the country. We by no means
conceive that ministers look upon those things with less disgust and
contempt than we do ; but it is essential to their honour that they see
justice effectually and expeditiously done.

Lord King's perpetual attacks on the Church, are made so much with
the air of a man eager to talk about something or other, that they lose all
their effect, and the affair goes on in the old way. But on one of his
late motions, whose object was to ascertain the number of resident and
non-resident clergy in England and Wales, distinguishing the non-resi-
dents who held of the clergy or corporation from those who held their
benefices of lay impropriators, he brought out some remarkable admis-
sions.

({ A right rev. prelate had the other night stated that the average income of
each clergyman did not exceed £365. 18s. 4d. This he would not deny; but
he saw from the returns that, while the average was to that amount, there
were six thousand clergy who had livings at an average of £645, a-year ; and
he thought some limits should be fixed, and livings made to correspond as
nearly as possible with the general average of the incomes of the whole clergy.
The son-in-law of the Bishop of Ely had been presented by the bishop to the
rich living of Wisbeach, though he held five livings besides, estimated at the
value of £5,000. a-year. In the see of York, he found some of the clergy had
only £ 30. a-year, and that the curate of a living in the gift of the University

1831.] Affairs in General. 549

of Oxford, worth £2,000. a-year, had the same sum, and that the parish had
been obliged to make a subscription to raise it to £10."

He concluded by moving for a return of the resident and non-resident
clergy.

(t The Bishop of London did not oppose the motion. On a former evening
he had stated that the average income of each clergyman in the English
church would, if church property were equally divided, be between £350. and
£360. a-year. Since he had made that statement he had made a most strict
inquiry ; and the result of that inquiry, he was sure, would excite the surprise
of the House, though it might not please the noble lord. The result was that,
if the livings were equally divided, each clergyman would not have more than
£185. a-year. In Scotland the average for each minister was £275. ; and even
the Protestant clergy in France were nearly as well paid as the English, if the
average were taken."

Well then, why is not this wretched disproportion reformed ? Why shall
the livings be left in such a state of inequality ? Why shall it be in the
power of any man to make the distribution of the church property in the
style which has been charged on the Bishop of Ely ? We have seen the
character of that man treated in the public journals in language which
demanded instant vindication from him, if he had any defence to make.
He is openly named in the House of Lords, yet none of the bishops rise
in his defence. The man himself remains silent. Is there no higher
authority in the church to rectify matters of this kind? But why will
no bishop bring forward a proposal for at least an approach to equaliza-
tion in the livings, when the abuse is so openly avowed ? A bishop
declares that on the average the English clergy are paid worse than the
Scotch or French; and that the Scotch clergy have on the average
£90 a-year, or about a third more than the English, and that too in
a country where provisions and all the means of life are one-half
cheaper then in England ; and yet after all those acknowledgments
the old evil is left to take its way.

The old adage of "What's every body's business, is nobody's
business/' has been seldom more happily illustrated than in the affair of
the Weymouth election. On the first statement of the transaction every
one pronounced it abominable, and there certainly arose in the public
mind a very strong desire to see the most condign punishment inflicted
on every person engaged in the transaction.

This state of the business lasted for a while, and then came a tissue of
letters and declarations from all the parties, who would have it to be the
most innocent and common-place affair in the world. Then came the
third stage, the backing out. The affair was so innocent that none of
the agents chose to have any of their names involved in it ; and now the
papers tell us that Lords Grantham and Goderich, Colonel Gordon, and
Sir Something Sugden, declare that they knew no more about it, than
their grandmothers. All very true perhaps, but still we must say that
it is all very strange.

Perfectly satisfied of course, that the traffic, the correspondence, the
purchase, and the borough-dealing were the work of nobody, we must
give this nobody who does such ingenious things credit for being a very
clever fellow.

If the radicals ever expunge the constitution from the records of Eng-
land, it will be by the help of such documents as the following : —

550 Notes of the Month on [MAY,

" Memorandum of some of the Pensions, Grants, &c. of the Cockburn
Family, taken from the Lists laid on the table of the House of Com-
mons.
** Vice-Admiral Sir George Cockburn (this is not all by a great

deal) £1,630

Henry Cockburn, Esq., Solicitor-General in Scotland 2,000

A. Cockburn, Esq., late Minister at Wirtemburg 1,700

Dame Augusta Cockburn 600)

Dame....Uo Do 358 ] *

Augusta Cockburn (supposed not to be the Dame) 200

Dame Mary Cockburn 680

Mary Cockburn (supposed to be another) 100

Fanny Cockburn 100

Harriet Cockburn £200)

Do Do 100 j '

Marianne Cockburn.. 115

Per Annum £7,783

Besides which, one of the family, who was sent to Mexico as envoy, expended
and received as salary, in about six months, £9,000."

Here the immediate provision of a set of people, but one of whom has
ever acquired any kind of public distinction, and even that, trivial
enough — for what after all have been the services of Sir George Cock-
burn, more than the common class of sea officers ? are paid for at the rate
of nearly £8,000 a-year. The Scotch solicitor-general may be a good
lawyer and entitled to his salary. But of what utility have been the ser-
vices of A. Cockburn, Esq. late ambassador at Wirtemberg, to entitle
him to £1,700 a-year, (observe) after having received so many four
thousands a-year ; for by the Scotch influence of those people, this person
has been kept in employ at one or other of the German courts for the last
twenty years. The retiring pensions of those extravagantly paid gen-
tlemen our diplomatists must be entirely lopped off. But then comes the
barefaced part of the business. Here are seven " lilies of the field," that
neither sow nor spin, who demand to be kept in houses and coaches, the
luxuries of life, and the pride of the " high blude o the feemily," as Sir
Pertinax says ; by the draining of John Bull's pocket, who must walk
without shoes to his feet, and live in eternal fear of the tax-gatherer,
that those well-born persons may not disgrace the " noble race of Shen-
kin," by working for their honest livelihood, like so many other people
just as worthy in the sight of mankind.

Nobody but Tom Moore ever doubted Sheridan's wit : yet it must be
owned that at least one half of this extraordinary man's pleasantries arose
from his close observation of the life round him. What can be more in
the style of the best part of his best work, The Critic, than the game of
the newspapers on Miss Foote's advance to the coronet. First came the
announcement anticipatory in this form : —

" We have heard, but by no means pledge ourselves for the truth of the report,
that a certain beautiful actress has had some serious thoughts of late of
exchanging the admiration always paid to her public talents, for a position
where her personal graces will be not less duly appreciated."

Then followed the regular denial : —

" The fashionable world has been much occupied by a report that a certain
uoble earl is about to be married to an actress. It is generally known that this
rumour is without foundation, as it is pretty well understood that his lord-

ia31.] Affairs in General. 551

ship's attentions have been directed to the lovely and amiable daughter of an
old brother officer, formerly in the 10th Hussars. — Morning Paper. £The
nobleman alluded to is Lord Harrington.]] — Evening Paper"

Before the town had recovered from this shock, a revival of its spirits
was proposed by a rumour : —

"It is rumoured that though some difficulties may have slightly retarded an
alliance in a certain quarter; yet those obstructions are now done away with,
and all will proceed on the flowery road of Hymen forthwith/'

The rumour was doubted, disputed, denied, and the town was at the
freezing-point again. But a paragraph in a country paper came full
wing to whisper peace ; and, as Johnson says, the announcement of the
fact " hushed the flutter of innumerable bosoms."

That John Bull will bear a great deal in the way of tax-paying, and
do a great deal in the way of grumbling while he pays, is a maxim
established by ten centuries of tax-paying and grumbling. But his food
and drink might have been conceived matters on which John would
scorn to suffer ill treatment ; and yet in the affair of the water-supply
of London, John has been going on for a hundred and fifty years drink-
ing a compound too horrible to be looked on by the eyes of chemistry,
and too frightful to the fancy, to be endured even among the recol-
lections of a surgeon of a city hospital.

Formerly this might have been ignorance, and in his simplicity he
drank legitimate horse-pond ; but ignorance exists no longer on the sub-
ject. The evidence before the House of Commons a few years ago, has
compelled every man to know the exact quantity of abomination which
he swallows in. every pint of water ; with the precise proportions of gas-
washing, solution of dead dogs and blind kittens, fetid mud, and the
more nameless, though scarcely more horrible, contributions poured into
Father Thames by three miles of sewers along his venerable and puru-
lent sides. How much of this dreadful abuse has been corrected by the
investigation we cannot possibly tell, though " to the best of our belief,"
as the country witness says, " we believe that nothing has been done ;"
at least, all that we have heard of, is of reservoirs built here, and gravel-
beds laid there, but to the naked eye with no change whatever upon the
dinginess of the water. Another scheme is now proposed.

" The members of the corporation have now before them several plans for
supplying the metropolis with pure water. It is calculated that the deposit of
mud on the sides of the Thames not reaching below the low water mark, and
the bed of the river throughout being generally a clean, porous gravel, the
mud will puddle in, and close the pores of the gravelly bed on which it lies,
above the low water mark, so that the filtration into neighbouring wells must
take place below low water mark. A filtering chamber is therefore proposed
to be constructed below the bed of the river, through which a main pipe or
tunnel will conduct the filtered water into a well on the river side, which may
be taken from thence by the present steam power on shore, and delivered out
by the mains and branches now laid down by the water companies."

We hope that all this will be intelligible to our readers, but if it be,
they have infinitely the advantage of us, for we cannot comprehend a
syllable of it. However, something may be done, if any body will give
the projectors a hundred thousand pounds to begin with. But why, let
us ask, must those people be always dabbling in the Thames ? Or how,
in the name of common stomachs, can they propose to any living being

552 Notes of the Month on [MAY,

to drink a drop out of the Thames? It is itself a common sewer, dif-
fering from Fleet ditch, or the brick funnels that run under our streets
and convey the ejcctamenta from our houses, in nothing more than its being
the common receptacle of their united abomination. Are there no other
streams in the neighbourhood of London? England is perhaps the best
watered country in Europe ; and yet in the metropolis, where men talk
of fastidiousness, and where more money is lavished on luxuries than in
many a kingdom, the fluid most necessary to life is a degradation of
ditch water, a running malady, a compact of all things emetical. Why
will not the citizens take up the matter? half a dozen active men would
do more than ten boards of aldermen. Why not bring water in pipes
from some of the wholsesome streams of Surry or Herts ? Nothing
could be easier, and nothing would be more popular than any plan
which afforded a rational chance of supplying London with a fluid, which
to a great city makes all the difference between cleanliness and filth,
health and disease.

Why does not some man of public research enlighten the public on the
proceedings at the Mint ? The whole system is as little comprehensible
by the uninitiated as the philosopher's stone. The cost of the Mint is
prodigious, the machinery is all that machinery can be ; yet we have
one of the ugliest coinages of any nation of Europe. A new issue of
coin is about to be commenced.

" It appears, from the king's proclamation, that the new coinage will con-
sist of double sovereigns, to be each of the value of 40s. ; sovereigns, each of
20s.; and half-sovereigns, 10s. : silver crowns, half-crowns, shillings, and six-
pences. The double-sovereigns have for the obverse the king's effigy, with
the inscription " Gulielmus IIII. D. G. Britanniarum Rex. F. D. ;" and for
the reverse, the ensigns armorial of the United Kingdom contained in a shield,
encircled by the collar of the Order of the Garter, and upon the edge of the
piece the words " Decus et Tutamen." The crowns and half-crowns will be
similar. The shilling has on the reverse the words " One Shilling," placed in
the centre of the piece, within a wreath, having an olive-branch on one side,
and an oak -branch on the other ; and the sixpences have the same, except the
word " Sixpence," instead of the words " One Shilling." The coppers will
be nearly as at present."

Now we must observe, what the master of the Mint and the people
about him ought to have observed before, that here is in the first in-
stance a considerable expense incurred in the coinage of the double
sovereigns, without any possible object, except the expense itself may
be an object, which is not impossible. We shall have in this coin one of
the most clumsy and useless matters of circulation that could be devised.
The present sovereign answers every purpose that this clumsy coin can
be required for, and even the single sovereign would be a much more con-
venient coin for circulation if it were divided, as every one knows, who
knows the trouble of getting change. The half-sovereign is in fact a
much more convenient coin. But on this clumsy coin we must have a
Latin inscription, as if it were intended only for the society of anti-
quaries, or to be laid up in cabinets, which we acknowledge would be
most likely its fate, except for the notorious bad taste of the British
coinage. Of much use it is to an English public to have the classical
phraseology of Gulielmus Britanniarum Rex, put in place of the
national language. Then too we must have the collar of the Order of the
Garter to incircle the national arms, of which this Order is nonsensically

1831.] A/airs in General. 553

pronounced " Decus et Tutamen." The Glory and Protection. The
Order of the Garter, the glory and protection of England ! We are
content to let this absurdity stay in Latin or Sanscrit ; English would
be shamed by it. The Order of the Garter, which goes round the
knee of any man, who comes with the minister's fiat on the subject, and
which has no more relation to British glory or British defence than the
Order of the Blue Button or the Yellow Frog of his majesty the em-
peror of China ; and this is to go forth on our national gold coin ! and
for fear that the folly would not be sufficiently spread it is to be stamped
on our crowns and half-crowns ! The shillings and sixpences luckily
escape : plain English will do for them. And all this goes on from year
to year, while we have in the example of France a model of what a
mint ought to be. Every foreigner makes purchases at the French
mint; and the series of national medals executed there is a public
honour and a public profit too. But who ever thinks of purchasing
English mintage except for bullion ? With a history full of the most
stirring events, we have not a single medallic series ; we have scarcely a
single medal. But we have in lieu of those vanities a master of the
mint, who is tost new into the office on every change of party, who has
probably in the whole course of his life, never known the difference be-
tween gold and silver but by their value in sovereigns and shillings ;
but who, in the worst of times, shews his patriotism by receiving a
salary of no less than five thousand pounds a year.

<e Mr. James Taylor, who has for several years devoted his time to establish
a steam communication between England and India, proceeded eighteen
months since to Bombay, through Egypt, and by the Red Sea ; and left it in
May last to return to England. He took his route by Bagdad to Aleppo, and
was joined by Messrs. Bowater, Aspinall, Elliott, Stubb, and Captain Cockell
— the two latter officers in the Indian army. Mr. Taylor and Mr. Bowater
proposed proceeding to Aleppo, the former intending to go from thence to
England. On the 15th August the caravan was attacked, at midnight, on the
plains of Sindjar, by two numerous bands of Arabs, and, as resistance seemed
useless, it took flight back. It was not till the morning that it was ascertained
that Messrs. Taylor, Bowater, and Aspinall, with a Maltese servant to Tay-
lor, were missing. Mr. Taylor's horse came into the party during the day, with
all his baggage, and some of his papers. Mr. Taylor, it is feared, and his
companions have been put to death by the savages into whose hands they had
fallen. He has left a widow and four young children to lament his untimely
and cruel fate."

We are no worshippers of Ibrahim Pacha nor Mohamed Ali, and yet
we wish that the scymeters of both were let loose from the head of the
Red Sea down to the Straits of Babelmandel. Conquest is mercy when
it restrains the bloodthirsty and the robber, and gives civilization the
power of passing along in its tranquil and noble progress through the
great deserted regions of the globe. We fear we have to record the loss
of a vigorous and useful man by the Arab sword. Whether this was
owing to any mismanagement on the part of our countrymen, or any
treachery on that of their guides and attendants, we must expect that
our consuls on the station will make due inquiry for both the recovery
of the individuals, if they are still to be found, and the punishment of
the criminals. It may be difficult to catch the Arab in his deserts, but
he may come within the reach of justice notwithstanding, and no exer-

M.M. Nerv Series.— VOL. XL No.H5. 4 B

554 Notes of the Month on QMAY,

tion should be spared to make the name of Englishmen a tower of
strength, even among savages.

How can we wonder at the decline of dramatic writing, when even
established and successful authors receive so little encouragement ? Miss
Mitford, who succeeded two years ago to the unusual extent of writing
a tragedy, which lasted nearly a whole season, rare as that distinction is
among tragedies, and peculiarly while the present race of tragedians
exist, most of whom, as George Colman once pleasantly observed,, " add
the murder of Macbeth to the murder of Duncan ;" yet we see that
Miss Mitford has been compelled to transfer two subsequently written
tragedies, from one of our theatres to another, and even there with but
a sorry prospect of performance. The usual polite negative, " too
many things on hand for the present," appears to be the answer.
Another case in point comes before us. One of the papers says —

" Knowles, the author of Virginius, wrote, some time since, an historical
tragedy or drama, denominated Alfred, which, in manuscript, has been read
by many of his literary friends, who entertain unqualified opinions that it is
calculated to increase the reputation of the author, and add golden proofs of its
success to the coffers of the manager. He has agreed with the lessees of Drury
Lane that it shall be produced at that theatre during the present month.
Macready will personate Alfred."

The truth, we believe, is that Alfred has been written these half-dozen
years ; for certainly, we have been warned of its existence by various
announcements for that time or more, and that Knowles has been fight-
ing his way for its exhibition through all kinds of difficulties. In this
we by no means desire to say that managers have acted either harshly
or disingenuously ; they have had their difficulties too, and in sufficient
abundance. But they may rely upon it, that in encouraging only the
mere journey-work people of the theatre, they must suffer ; that the
only solid and permanent emolument must be derived from those higher
performances, which can be produced only by superior men ; that such
men are to be found if they are sought for, as has been the experience
of every great theatre, from time immemorial ; and that the less they
have to do with such stuff as may go down with an Adelphi or an
Olympic-theatre audience, the better — not merely for their proper pride,
but for their real profit.

The citizen king grows upon us. He is more citizenish every day,
and so far he shews his sagacity; for, as the time is likely enough to
come when the king will be sunk in the citizen, what is it but wisdom
to accustom himself to the change in time ? He now wears a white hat,
upper benjamin, drab trowsers, and speaks badaud, or as we should call
it, cockney, in a manner the most conciliating. His next costume it may
be difficult to conjecture. But we hope that old Lafayette, or his white
horse, will not order sansculottism for the next winter-fashion ; as it is
the duty of a citizen king to set an example to his fellow -citizens, and
between the mud and the frost of a Paris winter, the most vigorous pa-
triotism and cuticle, might find themselves rather severely tried. But
can we possibly believe this specimen of royal conversation, which Louis
Philippe is said to have lately held with the Belgian deputies, who came
to offer their crazy throne and ragged populace to the Duke of Nemours !

1831.] Affairs in General. 555

The citizen king proposed that they should choose a Neapolitan prince,
a dexterous thing enough by-the-by, for the Neapolitan being the nephew
of the Queen of France, the Orleans influence would be just as strong as
with the Duke of Nemours, while it would be less glaring. But the tie
would be complete by making " our nephew" marry " our daughter,"
who besides carrying with her the French blood, which warms through
every degree of political intrigue, would carry a little French court, of
employes, chamberlains, maids of honour, and every one of them, down
to the " foolish fat scullion" and the boots — of course a regular French
intriguer, by the law of Nature. This is a fragment of the mode of
getting rid of daughters in la belle France.

" Now, if you take the Neapolitan prince, I will also send you one of my
daughters, that is to say, if one of them be so inclined ; for, though a king, I
am a father, and my daughters shall not be compelled to marry men whom they
do not love. I don't care for royal blood, and they care for it as little. What
think you of Marie? You chatted with her a,long time yesterday. Does she
not look charming with her blonde ringlets ? She is a liberal, like you and
me. For all this I must not forget my Louise, who is the oldest ; she with the
large eyes, and cold but sentimental air. She has solidity and judgment; she
is liberal too, but not quite so warm as her sister. By-the-by (laughing),
before your king accepts your constitution, you must make him come to the
Palais Royale, for if he pleases neither Louise nor Marie, I shall have nothing
to say to him. But to be serious, tell your Belgians that they have drawn
closer the ties of friendship between us ; and that they may rely upon me as a
father, as their firm support through life."

It is our plain opinion, however, that the citizen king is overdoing the
part, and that even the Sansculottes would not respect him the less for
being a little unlike themselves. The following story is told by one of
our fashionable journals, which the journal seems to think a reflection
on the sense of the lady, while we think it entirely a reflection on the
sense of the Palais Royal citizen family.

<e The beautiful Lady S. M., lately arrived in Paris, and who was in habits
of great intimacy with the Orleans family, received a note from one of the
young princesses, requesting her to take coffee at the palace. Lady S. M.
accordingly made her toilette in her usual style of magnificence. Her lady-
ship's hair, a la Chinoise, was looped up with diamonds, and the diamond star
which blazed on her forehead might have graced the brows of royalty. Her
dress corresponded with her superb coiffure. Upon entering the queen's apart-
ment, Lady S. M. found her majesty seated with her family round a table,
stuffing black leather dolls for the amusement of her youngest daughter, who
has but lately recovered from the measles. Her Majesty wore a plain black
satin gown, and her customary head-dress, a black hat ai?d feathers. The
princesses wore white muslin frocks and blue sashes. The Due de Nemours
was reading a newspaper aloud. Lady S. M. gave one glance at the family
party, and another at her own coiffure, and found herself obliged to plead a ball
at Lady Granville's as an excuse."

So much for the royal way of receiving a visitor. We think that the
lady had altogether the best of the scene. Her only error was in making
any apology for her dress, unless, indeed, she might have meant the allu-
sion to Lady Granville's party as a sly cut at the citizen deshabille of the
royal family. She had come to pay her respects to a queen, and very
properly dressed herself as was fit for the presence of royalty. She could
not have conjectured that she would find herself received, after a regular
invitation too, by a party that must have looked much more like the
family circle in a back shop in the Rue Vivienne ; the matron milliner

4 B 2

556 Notes of the Month on [MAY,

stuffing leather dolls ; for whom ? may we ask, for her youngest daughter
is fifteen or sixteen; perhaps for tne mere indulgence of an elegant
mind, perhaps for sale. The milliner's maids, the brune and the blonde,
simple grisettes, in "muslin frocks and blue sashes;" and the gar^on
boutiquier, the young man of the shop, indulging himself in a little
politics after his day's work, and reading the paper, while the head of
the firm was stuffing the leather dolls. The whole is ridiculous, pitiful,
republican affectation ; and even a French cockney, brainless as he is,
can see through its paltry popularity-hunting submission to the prevalent
puppyism of the moment ; but foolery is the law of the day, and the
leather dolls are as wise as their stuffers.

Old Quick, the comedian, who, like Fontenelle, had lived so long that
Death seemed to have forgotten him, is gone at last. Shenstone used to
thank his fathers that they had given him a name incapable of a pun ;
though he would have probably thought his escape of no great value if
he had seen the rhyme that libelled it in the Frenchman's garden at
Ermenonvillej

" Under this plain stone,

Lies William Shen-stone."

But Quick must have been a martyr from the hour he was breeched.
Through life he was persecuted by pun-shooting, and the persecution
has not even spared him in his grave. We shall, however, be aiding
and abetting in but one instance, which we take from that well-arranged
and amusing paper the Sunday Times.

On the Death of Mr. Quick) at the age of Eighty-three.
Death paused so long before he struck the blow,
His motions, while approaching Quick, seemed Slow ;
At last victorious o'er mirth's favourite son,
The world seems ended — Quick and Dead are one.

In the next grand radical election William Cobbett, Esq., patriot, and
so forth, starts for parliament. Sir Robert Wilson, of whom the opinion
of all honest and rational men has always been the same, having, by the
never-failing result of over-cunning, tripped at the last moment, and
ratted in the most amusing style ; we recommend William Cobbett for
Southwark. He would make a capital representative of the borough,
a much better one than Mr. Spruce, the beer-maker, Mr. Shine, the
dealer in mud, Mr. Hog, the bacon-man, or any of the vulgar, utterly
uneducated, and thoroughly stupid brood, that insult common sense by
pretending to understand any thing beyond their limekilns, salt-pans,
and coal-cellars.

Cobbett is worth a million of those fellows in every sense of the
word. He has brains, which they have not j knowledge of mankind,
while they know nothing but how to make mankind laugh at them ;
and as for public or personal honesty, we would match him against any
patriot of Southwark at the best of times. Hunt and he will make
incomparable legislators, and we think that Hunt already shews his
dread of the superior genius by his rage. In his letter to the Preston
electors, Hunt has thrown first mire, and, in direct terms, denounced
Cobbett as every thing that is despicable. He says —

" The moment I was elected for Preston, by your free and unsolicited votes,
the mean, dirty, grovelling knave, again cast his net, again put forth his slimy

1831.] Affairs jn General. 557

and pestilential web of sophistry, in order to get me once within the grasp of
his deadly, his blasting fangs. I resisted all his attempts, public and private,
whether put forth as ' feelers' in his Register, or whether urged by those who
professed to be mutual friends. My answer to all was the same, ' I have twice
shaken the ruffian old beast from by back, he shall never fix his filthy carcass
upon my shoulders again ; I have no connection with him privately or pub-
licly.' "

This is undoubtedly a very handsome specimen of what may be said
on a tempting subject. But Cobbett is a master of the art, and Hunt
may trust to his skill for due retribution.

But what can be more precarious than the loves of patriots. Hunt
and O'Connell are now at feud, and if both gentlemen were not precluded
by their sense of decorum from every thing but foul language, we should
doubtless hear of a sanguinary encounter as soon as the April showers
are over. Their friendship has been a delightful scene of alternations,
full of the caprices of lovers, and worthy to figure in the next novel of
the Minerva press. They began by mutual admiration. Hunt then
disapproved of something that had fallen from O'Connell, who thereupon
addressed to him a tremendous letter, styling him " old Blacking Ball,"
and giving him other desperate hits. They met at a dinner, shook
hands, and again became courteous. To civility friendship succeeded.
" My friend O'Connell" and " my friend Hunt," were always on their
tongues. O'Connell, on one occasion, declared that he could find no one
to support his plans of reform but tf his friend Hunt." Now, he pro-
claims the same individual to be an enemy to reform, and to have sold
himself to the Tories. Hunt accuses O'Connell of trafficking for a judge's
seat, and of being any thing but that high-souled patriot who was to
regenerate the fallen honesty of the empire. O'Connell was prodigiously
angry at being charged with offering to do, we know not what, if the
Irish lord-lieutenant would have given him the chief- justiceship. He
called the charge a lie, and promised to bring forward Mr. Bennett, the
universal scape-goat, to contradict it, whenever he could find him. But
Mr. Bennett, besides having the faculty of being in two places at once,
the privilege of his countrymen, seems to have occasionally the still
more valuable faculty of being no v/here at all, and this useful friend
has not yet started from his invisibility to clear the character of the
great agitator.

One of the strangest sources of disgust to public men is, that let their
professions when out of office be what they may, their practice when in
is invariably the same. We had Lord Grey but a few months ago pro-
testing by himself, and his honour, and his order, and all similar non-
sense, that without economy, retrenchment, the extinction of all
wasteful, corrupt, and corrupting patronage, and so forth, the state
could not go on. Sir James Graham is a dandy and a rhetorician, and
so his words may go for nothing, but who clamoured more conscien-
tiously for the extinction of all pensions, retiring allowances, &c., than
Sir James? Yet of the whole hundred and forty thousand prounds
a year to which the pension-list of the empire is acknowledged to
amount, and privately it may be much more, have one hundred and forty
farthings been lopped off? We have now Lord Grey, the man who has
no objection to cut off sixty-eight members of the House of Commons,
and to make the most headlong experiment on the constitution, receiving

558 Notes of the Month on [MAY,

the thanks of that friend to purity, propriety, and the constitution, his
Grace of Wellington, " for his determination to abstain from disturbing
pensions, many of which had been well deserved, although a few might
have been granted on insufficient grounds." On this the Age justly
remarks — " As no one doubts his Grace's accuracy of information, or his
intimate knowledge of the subject, may we request him to state under
which head should the pension granted to Mrs. Harriet Arbuthnot be
classed ? Was that pension well deserved ?. or was it granted on insuffi-
cient grounds ? We pause for a reply." The sum, as far as we can
recollect, was £800 a year ! £800 a year for the services of Mrs. Arbuth-
not ! What services, where, to whom ? The pension was given when
his Grace was master-general of the Ordnance, and he must be acquainted
with the particulars, as a minister ; we say no more.

Then comes another specimen of the art of pensioning. In a late
debate the Duke of Wellington, in order to illustrate his position, that
unless a Frst Lord of the Treasury possessed a large private fortune, he
must be ruined, in consequence of the heavy expences entailed on him
by his situation, stated, amongst other instances, te that the late Mr. Can-
ning had been ruined by being in office, and that he (the duke) had
proposed a provision for the family of Mr. Canning in consequence."
We might, in the first place, dispute the principle. A Secretary of State
receives six thousand pounds a year, he has a house rent-free, coals,
candles, and a crowd of other matters which make the chief expence of
London life. He receives his salary to the hour, and thus has a very
great advantage, in point of the power of living within his means, over
men even of double his income. But is it not a confession of imbecility
to suppose that all the rational, and even shewy expences, to which a man
of sense could be compelled in London, might not be defrayed by five
hundred pounds a month ? The minister officially gives about four
handsome dinners in the year, he may of course give fifty if he likes,
and run in debt for them all, or he may choose to flourish and vapour
about town in three equipages a day, or keep three establishments,
private or notorious, or indulge his favorites with annuities or Opera
boxes at the rate of £300 a year each — or he may play the fool in any
way that vanity or vice tempts him. But what right has he to call upon
the public to make up his losses ? However, whether Canning did those
things or not, a pension was granted to his widow, whom, of course, we
concluded, as thus subsisting on the bounty of the state, to be the
" retiring victim of virtuous poverty," as the House of Commons orators
say, and to be only anxious to convey her widowhood into some quiet
retreat, and there cultivate her virtues. On the contrary, she starts upon
us in the following style —

' ' Viscourrtess Canning (who since the death of her distinguished husband has
been residing with a branch of her family) has purchased an elegant mansion
in Chester-terrace, Regent's park, and took possession of it last week."

To the lady's purchasing an " elegant mansion," or doing any thing
else with her money, we cannot have the least objection ; but we have a
very strong objection to our paying for it. And the public have a right
to demand from the minister who gave that pension, whether he had
ascertained how near the fortune of his predecessor was to ruin when it
was given. We cannot comprehend the ruin which allows of the pur-
chase of an " elegant mansion" in one of the most expensive parts of
London, where such a mansion may cost from twenty to forty thousand

1831.] Affair 9 in General. 559

pounds. This is not like ruin. And with all our sorrow for the elegant
intriguer, whose accession to six thousand pounds a year above his
income was (e his ruin," we must ask, why are we compelled to furnish
the purchase of the mansion, however elegant, in Chester-terrace ?

We told our readers, from the beginning of the transaction, that
O'Connell would slip his neck out of the noose of Irish law. As the
trial approached, we told them there would be some wretched mis-
management which would leave the matter just as it found it, and that
we should have the " Agitator" laughing, as he undoubtedly has a right
to laugh, over the trifling and timidity of the whole rabble of authority.

When the first account of his being suffered to withdraw his plea and
go at large came over, the opinion of every man of common sense in the
country was the same ; and when the Marquis of Chandos demanded
of the Irish secretary Stanley whether any compromise had been entered
into, we were certainly astonished to see Mr. Stanley stand up, and
gravely say in his place, that none whatever had been even thought of,
and that O Conn ell and his fellow culprits would be brought up for
judgment like any other culprits, and treated accordingly. The Mar-
quis of Chandos bowed to all this, and expressed himself satisfied. But
not having such exalted ideas of human politicians as the Marquis, we
felt only more sceptical, and pronounced that we could not comprehend
why at that hour the whole band in the indictment were not together in.
the jail? why judgment was not pronounced at once, and the direct
and natural means taken of suppressing a faction whose object Mr.
Stanley himself distinctly declared to be separation, or, in other words,
Civil War in the empire ? Before a danger like this, and this danger the
proclamations avowed, all mere diplomatic politeness ought to have
given way. The hand of justice should have been instantly fastened on
the criminals, and before a day was over they should have received the
practical proof, that the peace of the country was not to be the toy of a
desperate faction. But then Mr. Stanley came, armed with the Attorney
General's letter, which being altogether a piece of technical stuff,
wrapped up the reason in legal nonsense, and let nothing escape but the
fact, that the faction were to be at large. And at large they were with
a vengeance. For at the moment when the Irish Secretary was with
triumph boasting of his having O'Connell fast in his trap, the Agi-
tator, who has ten times the brains, and a hundred times the influence
of the whole Irish government, was marching in a true triumph of his
own, from post to pillar, declaring that the government would not touch
a hair of his head, that the Union must be repealed, and that he must be
the repealer.

Well then, the day comes at last, when the Irish government were to
perform their miracle, and the faction are to appear in court for judg-
ment; thence, of course, to go to their respective jails. What follows. —

"Dublin, April 21. — In the King's Bench; O'Connell, Lawless, Steele, and
the other parties included in the indictment, were this day called upon their
recognizances. Steele was in attendance, but in consequence of the applica-
tion of the travelers' counsel, it was ultimately ruled, that they should be
called up for judgment on the 3rd of May; when, it is said, they are to have
the right of arguing in arrest of judgment."

So they are at large still. And after having had a couple of months'
holiday, during which O'Connell has been suffered to come over here
and harrangue for the Greys, they are to have a fortnight more, and

560 Notes of the Month on Affairs in General. QMAY,

then they are to argue in arrest of judgment ; and then, we take it for
granted, that we shall not have the pain of seeing so valuable a patriot
as the Agitator compelled to feel any embarrassment on the occasion.
And what was the reason alleged for this delay — " Mr. O'Connell could
not appear in court/' Why ? he was out of town, and engaged too, on
parliamentary business. But had he not been summoned to attend ? —
Yes, but the summons had not been sent in time to reach him. The
Attorney General on those grounds declared that he should consider.it
indelicate to press the matter, and therefore proposed the delay. But
why, might a plain man ask, was not the' summons sent in time ? The
whole business is to us as cloudy as ever, except in one point, which we
look on as perfectly clear.

The history of the rise of some of our grand monde should be writ-
ten for the salutary purpose which the slave answered, who stood be-
hind the Roman general in the triumph — " remember thou art but a
man !" Of what infinite service would it be to Lord Ringlet, to have a
historiographer reminding him once a week that his income was com-
piled from six-and-eightpences ? Another noble lord, who, however,
we believe, is by no means such a conspicuous model of ringletism,
might derive the same moral from this anecdote : —

" The late Lord Clonmel, who never thought of demanding more than a
shilling for an affidavit, used to be well satisfied provided it was a good one.
In his time the Birmingham shillings were current, and he used the following
extraordinary precaution to avoid being opposed upon by taking a bad one : —
" You shall true answer make to such questions as shall be demanded of you
touching this affidavit, so help you God." Is this a good shilling?

Lord Clonmel was an Irish judge. He began the world as nothing
but an obscure Irishman — Jack Scott; by degrees was distiguished by
his effrontery, a good quality in the worst of times, and felt fortune
rising on him, in the name of Bully Scott. He was then made a baron,
and finally rested in the earldom of Earlsfort. His love for a good
shilling was of service to him, for he died worth thirty thousand a
year.

We complain of the luxuries of the great, to whom those things are
no luxuries after all, but merely the common conveniences of their
rank and habits of living. But what shall we say to the luxuries of
the little, recollecting too, that the great pay for their luxuries out of
their own pockets, while the little extract them from the pockets of
their neighbours ? The churchwardens' dinners are proverbial, and the
phrase of " eating a child," or devouring at one of those feasts of the
tradesmen and shopkeepers of the vestry, to the value of £20, the
computed sum for a child's subsistence, has become a part of vestry
language. We give a recent instance of this fashionable taste : we might
give a thousand.

' ( Rose-water for ever ! — At a recent parish-feed, when the dinner things
were cleared off the cloth, several persons began to turn the said cloth up, to
be taken away. One of the waiters, pertinently for the occasion, but imper-
tinently for the company, exclaimed to a bricklayer, who was most active in
turning up the cloth, ' Stop a minute, the rose-water is coming for you to sweeten
yourselves!' And the rose-water did come; and bricklayers, and masons, and
potters, arid carpenters, dipped their hard and bony hands in it, and were
wonderfully refreshed therewith."

183L] [ 561 ]

MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.

The Anatomy of Society, by James Au-
gustus St. John, 2 vols. \2rno. — It is but
fair to warn the reader against looking
for what he may naturally expect, but
which he will not find — some consecutive
discussion on the structure of society.
The title and the book have little to do
with each other. There is nothing ap-
proaching a dissection of the subject,—
the interior is not at all thrown open,
and only a few kindly cuts made upon
portions of the surface. Nevertheless,
consisting, as the volumes do, of nothing
but loose and unconnected remarks, in

the old fashioned shape of essays many

of them already published in periodicals
r— sometimes upon matters of life, but
oftener upon books, or the writers of
books— it is an agreeable performance
enough — soothing and dreamy— full of
comfort and complacency. The sober
reader may be sure of never being startled
by any extravagance ; and if he thinks
at all, during the perusal, which is not
very likely to be the case— the opium is
too predominating — it will be to wonder
where the writer can have lived to find
every thing so soft and soporific. The
secret must be, he has encountered no
realities to roughen him — his conversa-
tion must have been almost wholly with
quieting books ; and he in fact will be
found to be more frequently describing
the realms of some Utopia, than the
society of England. Nor are his senti-
ments, as might be expected, gathered
as they are from books, at all coherent ;
and indeed bear few other marks of pro-
ceeding from the same pen, than the sub-
dued tone that pervades them all, and
the uniformity of misconceptions. But
he is always in drawing-room costume —
well dressed and well behaved — his words
flowing like streams of milk and honey,
and his figures as rich and palling as a
bride-cake — he is not only cultivated, but
superfine.

The very best portions of Mr. St. John
are his estimates of More, Franklin,
Brutus, and Tacitus ; but they are full
of defects and illusions, when closely ex-
amined— Tacitus, particularly. Mr. St.
John ascribes all his tours de malice, and
that is a very gentle term, to sagacity,
and a penetration that exposed the cha-
racter of the man he described like a sun-
beam. Let any body look coolly at the
account of Tiberius, a man of whom he
personally knew nothing — he was dead
before Tacitus was born— yet of whom
he pronounced, as to every action, as if
he had been his daily companion. He
has but one scale for him — the prince
never meant what he said — which we take
to be beyond the powers of mortal man.

MM. New Series — VOL. XL No. 65.

More is lauded to the skies ; yet if any
regard be paid to his Utopia, he must
have spent his life in the profession of
sentiments in opposition to his convic-
tions— while Franklin sinks in Mr. St.
John's estimate, because he loved money
and was not a poet. After playing the
patriot for half a life, he complained that
America had been ungrateful. " Did
Phocian ask for a reward ?" asks Mr. St.
John. We do not know — we know much
of Franklin and mighty little of Phocian.
His biographer was as likely to be gulled
as any man who ever wielded a pen —
Mr. St. John not excepted.

We have little space for particulars ;
but we take the first essay — a fair spe-
cimen of the whole. It is entitled Modes
of studying the World ; but to any body,
not observing the title, the writer would
seem to be employed in showing that
books are better vehicles than conversa-
tion for the conveyance of opinions.
Though many other matters appear to
have been passing through his brain, this
seems the leading idea — the one most
frequently recurring ; but as to modes
of studying the world, in any intelligible
sense, the reader will learn absolutely
nothing. The author is rich, apparently,
in illustration, but which proves, on ex-
amination, to be the result of adven-
turousness — to make up for the absence
of real information. " The periods," says
he, " of the thunder-tongued Demos-
thenes are said to have convulsed Greece
through all her states" — which every
body knows is not true — on the contrary,
on Demosthenes' own testimony, they
were comparatively ineffective, and only
roused his fellow-townsmen to occa-
sional and for the most part impotent
exertions. It is such men as Plutarch
and Mr. St. John in whose ears they
have sounded thunder-tongued. Hheto-
ricians and writers have universally ap-
plauded, and justly, but the speeches did
not convulse Greece through all her
states — Philip has convinced us of the
contrary. Of these same " periods," with
which he appears so familiar, Mr. St.
John adds, that Demosthenes in them
" poured forth his fire and soul intp
every metaphor;" while, in fact, the
orator was remarkable for the simplicity,
or at least the plainness, of his manner.
There is pith, energy, and vigour, but
none of the ornaments of poetry.

Cicero's " themes," again, are de-
scribed as " chiefly, if not entirely, of a
political nature, and written not so much
to exercise his powers as to call off his
mind from disagreeable reflections.'r Did
ever any body, acquainted with the mass
of his works, characterise them thus ?
4 C

562

Monthly Review of Literature,

Mr. St. John has heard or read some-
thing of Dr. Parr's wig. But nobody
but nimself ever dreamed of calling it
careless, or applied the terms clerical
ringlets to his frizzled episcopal bush.

" We find the Greeks," says Mr. St.
John, " in their most homely dialogues,
making perpetual reference to the pic-
tures of Parrhasius, Protogenes, or Apel-
les, or to the statues of Phidias, Myron,
or Lycippus;" but what homely dia-
logues are these, and where are they to
be found, put of the pale of Mr. St.
John's fertile imagination ? The same
risking spirit, in fact, pervades the whole
volumes — still they are, we repeat, very
agreeable reading — calculated to beguile
uneasy sensations, and capable of charm-
ing, if any thing can do it, a fit of the
gout, or a tooth-ache.

The King's Secret, by the Author of the
Lost Heir, 2 vols. I2mo. — A good tanta-
lising title this, and the publisher, as
became him, has made the most of it.
The mighty secret, however, proves to
be none of George the Fourth's, or any
of his race, but of one who has gone to
the shades some centuries ago. It is one
of Edward the Third's, and which, at
last, the author leaves as he found or
framed it. The very tale winds up, not
without its own denouement, but with-
out resolving the mystery. The histo-
rical event, which constitutes the frame-
work of the piece, supplies but a small
portion of the details— they are em-
ployed mainly in developing the com-
plications of family interests. It is Arte-
velde's— the well-known beer-brewster
of Ghent, one of Grattan's heroes— in-
trigue with Edward to transfer the co-
ronet of Flanders from Count Lewis to
the young Prince of Wales. The scheme
fails, and the projector, Artevelde, a fine
manly fellow, perishes in the prosecu-
tion of it by private vengeance, in a
tumultuous assembly of the citizens. In
his negotiations he employs his daughter,
and despatches her, on one occasion, in
a private yacht to the Thames, to confer
with the Icing. In her passage she is ob-
served and recognised by the follower of
a Flemish noble ; — a Flemish noble who,
unluckily, is attached to the native
prince, and has also a direct interest in
defeating Artevelde's scheme for the
marriage and settlement of this daughter,
who has all her father's confidence. Be-
fore she reaches the king, she is seized
by this nobleman and his agents, but is
finally rescued, more dead than alive, fry
the activity and bravery of a young ci
tizen, which lays the foundation for the
love story. This young citizen appears
as the nephew of a rich old goldsmith —
the goldsmiths were the money -jobbers
of those days — but he has a soul "above
buttons'' and bullion, and with good

reason, as the finale shows. He has al-
ready distinguished himself for all sorts
of martial exercises, and at some city
pageant even beaten the bravest of the
nobles, and was panting and burning for
glory in fields of serious warfare. But
he was nothing but a miserable citizen,
and emancipation seemed hopeless, when,
by the greatest good fortune that ever
befel mortal man, he rescued the dis-
tressed damsel — and such a damsel too —
one who was entitled to figure in courts,
&c. Torn from her attendants, and espe-
cially a confidential friend of her father's,
she entrusts the youth with her com-
mission, and despatches him to the king,
in whose presence he acquits himself with
good tact and discretion. The king is
engaged to attend a " passage of arms"
in the city, and takes young Borgia in
his suite, where again he excites admira-
tion by his prowess, and obtains an im-
mediate appointment in the king's ser-
vice. The king's interview with the lady
determines him to start instantly for
Flanders. Borgia accompanies him, and
they fall into the hands of the agents of
the same nobleman who had attempted
to carry off the lady ; but by a counter

E'ece of good luck, they are rescued, and
nding at the Flemish coast, lose not a
moment in prosecuting the brewer's
scheme. That, however, as we have
said, fails. After Artevelde's death, his
daughter becomes the king's ward, and
nothing remains for the author but to
develop the private interests, which,
from their complexity, proceeds but
slowly, and not very consecutively.
They are exceedingly complicated — the
brewer's daughter is not the brewer's
daughter, but the heiress of title as well
as fortune ; and master Borgia's parent-
age is " The King's Secret" — he may be
a brother, the offspring of Queen Isa-
bella's intrigue with her favourite Mor-
timer. But though Mr. Power has ham-
pered himself a little with details to-
wards the conclusion, many of his scenes
and sketches are good. His strokes are
few and broad, but usually decisive, and
tell effectively. Artevelde's character
is well exhibited ; but' the king's is any
thing but an historical portrait — it re-
sembles more that of Edward the Fourth.
But Artevelde's daughter is the crown-
ing figure— she is a clever girl— prompt
and intelligent — frank and straight-for-
ward—ready in expedient, and resolute
in action. It is by far the best portrait |
in the piece, and well sustained.

Mr. Power has fagged at his arche-
ology, and especially studied the local
antiquities of London ; but, being a little
too eager to shew off all his acquisitions
in this way, he has overlaid his pages
with details of dress, arms, and chivalry.
This is a common blunder. Writers of
historical romance have been worried by

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

563

the critics into some acquaintance with
the times they venture to describe.
They are driven to consult books, and
get up a few particulars, and are resolved
it shall not be labour in vain. It is all
poured mercilessly upon the reader, who
thus suffers for the importunity of the
critic.

Thoughts on Man, by Wm. Godwin. — Mr.
Godwin is not a man to give utterance
to any thing very foolish, nor to put
forth any doctrine without a reason — he
is always able to give at least some ac-
count of the faith that is in him. The
sentiments he enforces may not always
be of the importance he thinks them,
and certainly, in the publication before
us, are rarely new, for they were, most
of them, his forty years ago ; but they
are what he feels— the transcripts of a
native suggestion ; and his essays may
thus be talten not as mere pieces of
book -making, but as the best and ripest
conclusions of his experience and saga-
city. He is a man at once contempla-
tive, acute, and honest — that cannot be
denied ; but, at the same time, we must
confess more might reasonably have
been expected than the volume presents.
The truth is, Mr. G. relies too much
upon himself — if he does not precisely
despise his cotemporaries, he knows but
little about them. He keeps too much
aloof. He reads, but then it is the
books of other times, which themselves
require the modifications which the
lapse of an age, remarkable, part of it at
least, for intellectual activity, must na-
turally bring with it. The very perio-
dicals, to which he plumes himself upon
never having contributed, if he had
deigned to glance at them, would have
shewn him, that without great care, he
would be falling into the rear, and if he
continued to write he must bestir him-
self and not be perpetually falling back
upon his old thoughts. There is scarcely
any one paper in the present volume but
might well have been written many years
ago — they bear no marks of freshness ;
they are not only stale, but the very ar-
guments are such as have been super-
seded either by sounder ones, or by
more generalizing principles.

Mr. G. entitles one Essay — On the
Distribution of Talents — in which his
object is to shew that talents are very
equally distributed — not equally for the
same purpose, but equally, that is, com-
petently for the station every one is des-
tined to fill. Every man has a place in
society for which he is fit and fittest, and
therefore there can be no real occasion
for forcibly fitting him to any other.
To Mr. G. this is a most encouraging
view of human nature, and indeed it is,
were it reducible to practice ; but the
difficulty —apparently an insuperable

one — is for each one to identify the par-
ticular niche, for which Nature has ex-
pressly framed him, without accompany-
ing it with some special indications —
unless he abandon aD. concern about the
matter, and take that into which he ac-
cidentally drops as the one his destiny
provides. Mr. G. no longer believes,
as we think he once did, with Helvetius,
that all are born alike— on the contrary
all are now born with peculiar qualities—
and the especial business of every man
is to apply them appropriately. Were
this true to the letter, we take it, supe-
rior faculties would have been furnish-
ed to aid us in the application. As it is,
every man's destiny is for the most part
settled by his birth, or before he comes to
what are called years of discretion. We are
most of us jostled into the places we hold,
in this world of ours, with little or no sys-
tem or foresight. Looking to the broad
facts that stare every man in the face on
the realities of life, the case seems to be
that there is in every man a rough sort of
equality which fits him for the common
discharge of any of the common offices
of society — liberal or mechanical— but
which he shall practice, depends wholly
upon circumstances. The consequence is,
that a man is flung, not into what is most
fitted for him, but into what is most con-
venient or desirable ; and the conse-
quence of this again is, that we see
places, in every class of life, occupied by
those who are manifestly not fitted for
them, and in which they never can win
distinction. Occasionally a man falls,
like a cat upon her legs, into the posi-
tion for which he shews a peculiar apti-
tude, and his efforts then are usually
attended with success — but this is of
rare occurrence — as rare, precisely, as
the phenomena of genius.

Some of Mr. G's. essays are of a more
practical cast, and one of them relative
to the question of the day— the Ballot.
But here, as in many cases, he misses
the point in question. He disapproves
of the Ballot, on the ground of its sneak -
ingness. But the matter must be looked
at, in company with existing institu-
tions ; and with them, a free exercise of
suffrage cannot be practised. The very
object of the Ballot is to gahrthe power
of doing without it. If we are to sneak
for a time, it is that we may be frank for
ever. It is necessary to enable us to
exercise our right of independent suf-
frage, expressly to crush domineering
influence — and thus eventually to face
the light of day. We say this on the
supposition that the Ballot is likely to
be efficient for the object in view. We
are not advocates of the Ballot, because
we do not believe it would produce the
anticipated effect, for we have no notion
that English people can keep their own
secrets— they would betray themselves
4 C 2

564

at the first pot-house they stepped
into.

The Essay on Phrenology is exceed-
ingly feeble. We have no doubt but
every periodical that has opposed Phre-
nology, and that is nearly all, would
furnish articles immeasurably superior —
with better information, ana more
thoroughly reasoned. One upon astro-
nomy, of some length, is much better.
Mr. G. calls in question the evidence as
to the distances of the fixed stars par-
ticularly, and of course the deductions
that have been made of endless systems,
corresponding with our own, in the end-
less regions of space. There can be
little room for doubt, but the men of
glasses and figures are peremptory upon
evidence, which would not, in other
matters, prompt them to wag a finger.

Illustrations of the Literary History of
the 18th Century, $c. — a sequal to the Li-
terary Anecdotes, by John Nicholls, vol.
F/.— Another volume, or rather, like
Colman's fat hero, two single volumes
rolled into one, for it only wants two
leaves of 900 pages, consisting still of
but a small portion of the immense
streams of memoirs poured from all
quarters into the reservoirs of the elder
Nicholls. By him the bulk of the ma-
terials were accumulated, but he dropt
his mantle on his son and his grandson—
the present respectable printers of the
same name — and they are evidently as
indefatigable, in the same way, as their
industrious ancestor. GifFord, Lord
Camelford (the first lord of that name),
the Earl of Buchan, Mr. Samuel Den-
nis, Baptist Noel Turner, are the chief
names that shine most brilliantly inter
minores. Lord Camelford's letters are
written with a good deal of vivacity —
chiefly on public affairs, and quite read-
able ; but we cannot affirm so much of
the multitudinous epistles of Mr. Sam.
!Dennis — confined as they are, for the
most part, to professional gossip — who
gets this preferment, and who is to have
that. But numbers figure here that can
never flourish elsewhere ; but then there
are numbers also, who are gratified by
reading such notices, either from per-
sonal recollections, or from occasional re-
ports, and glad to catch some authentic
account of their obscure career. The
intrinsic value of the communication is
but small ; but that is not what the pub-
lication aims at — if the parties had been
more capable of serving posterity, as well
as their own generation, they would
not have been reserved for commemora-
tion in a limbo of this kind.

Among these illustrious obscure, we
met with the name of Hellins, and were
ourselves glad to see a memoir of a man
we remember well. He was a most in-
defatigable operative in mathematics,

Monthly Review of Literature,

[MAY,

and in the town of Stony Stratford—-
near his own residence—had the further
reputation of being a most profound as-
trologer, and was occasionally consulted,
we believe, by the natives on the mat-
ter of their horoscopes. Of the hum-
blest origin, he had worked himself into
knowledge — had got into orders, and
into a small vicarage, where he laboured
at his desk to his last breath — honest
and honourable in all the duties of life,
but as ignorant of nature and of society
as a monk. Believing his merits un-
kindly overlooked, he indulged a sar-
castic humour, which found a gratifi-
cation in snarling at mankind ; but that
quite in the abstract. Those who knew
him, knew him to be kind and faithful,
and one that would have gone to the ex-
tent of his limited means to serve his
friends. He had star-gazed for Maske-
lyne at Greenwich, and was deeply mor-
tified at not being appointed his succes-
sor. Sir Joseph Bankes did not think
him a sufficiently fine gentleman, and
nominated Pond, who has realized Hel-
lins's prognostic. The present first
Lord or the Admiralty was, if we recol-
lect rightly, his last pupil for a few
months.

Lucius Carey ; or the Mysterious Fe-
male of Mora's Dell, an Historical Tale,
by the Author of the Weird Woman, 4 vols.
— Now and then we have met with a
story coming forth under Mr. Newman's
auspices, not at all inferior to some of
loftier pretensions, ushered in, in the
most imposing form, by the most fashion-
able publishers. But Lucius Carey can
never figure among them. We perse-
vered, in spite of numerous indications
of ignorance both as to historical facts
and characters, in the hope of some
favourable turn, but it proved labour lost.
The writer has neither common tact
nor executive power for a tale of any
complication. Lucius Carey, himself,
is the nephew of Lord Falkland — joins
the royal army — fights with Cromwell,
and even wounds him, at least scratches
his nose, and with difficulty escapes
hanging from the magnanimous resent-
ment of the said Cromwell. The story
is mixed up with the fortunes of a young
lady — the mysterious female of Mora's
Dell — deprived of her estates by a wick-
ed lord, her uncle ; but finally by the
aid of witches and warlocks and con-
jurors, and Cromwell himself, the great
conjuror of his day, we believe at last
she gets her own again, and of course
Lucius Carey gets also her lovely self
and her broad lands. But the confusion
of the whole story is past all disentangle-
ment, and may be safely pronounced —
unreadable.

The Boole nfthe Seasons, by W. ffowitt.
— Mr. Howitt has made a very agreea-

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

565

ble little book, descriptive of the seasons
— presenting successively, in their poe-
tic and picturesque features, the objects
and appearances of nature most remark-
able in the garden, the fields, and the
waters. The characteristics of what are
usually called Seasons were obviously
susceptible of greater sub-divisions, and
Mr. H. has found ample materials for
discriminating every month. These ma-
terials are represented as the results of
personal observation, and they bear the
impress of truth and nature, in that
peculiarity and novelty of detail,
which never fails to accompany original
researches. The reader, besides, will
find a table of the migrations of birds —
lists of garden-plants as they flower in
each month — a botanical calendar of the
most beautiful and interesting plants — •
catalogues of insects — notices of rural
occupations, and of angling — in all
which respects it is hignly useful as a
book of reference.

In August, fairy rings in the grass are
most conspicuous, of which Mr. Howitt
gives by far the most plausible account
we have any where seen — more than
plausible, indeed, for it is built upon
incontestable facts, and such as seem
adequate to explain the effects. Fungi
and insects always abound in them ; but
the insects are a consequence of the
fungi, and not a cause of the circle, for
where there are fungi there will be in-
sects to devour them. The commence-
ment of these circles, too, favour the
fungi theory. That commencement is,
indisputably, nothing but a small mush-
room bed, made by the dung of cattle
lying undisturbed, where first deposited,
till it becomes incorporated with the
soil. Where this occurs a tuft of rank
grass springs, and in the centre a crop
of fungi appears and perishes. This is
the nucleus of the fairy ring. The next
year the tuft is found to have left a
green spot, of perhaps a foot and a half
diameter, which has already parted in
the centre. This expansion goes on
from year to year — the area of the circle
is occupied by common grass, and suc-
cessive crops of fungi give a vivid
greenness to the ring which bounds it.
That only a few tufts are converted into
fairy rings may be owing to their not
being sufficiently enriched to become
mushroom beds ; but that all fairy rings
have this origin, will be found to admit
of little doubt. This, though true, is
nevertheless an humiliating expose7 of
the charmed fairy-rings ; but

Do not all charms fly
At the mere touch of cold philosophy ?

As a naturalist, and given to prowling,
Mr. H. exclaims, and not without rea-
son, against the shutting up of foot-
paths upon estates in the country. The

exclusive spirit of country gentlemen
would gladly keep the world to the high
roads. They look with jealousy upon
any one who crosses a field. Trespass
formerly meant mischief, an actual in-
jury, by breaking, destruction ; but now
to be seen in an enclosure is enough to
constitute a crime — a violation of the
statutes. The country squires have
had influence to get such an appearance
denounced as a crime, and as a body are
armed with authority to carry their own
paltry wishes into execution. The un-
lucky botanist cannot now venture, in
the county, out of the lanes with any
safety.

Achievements of the Knights of Malta,
by Alexander Sutherland, Esq., Author of
Tales of a Pilgrim, 2 vols ; forming the 62d
and 63d of Constable's Miscellany. — Vertot
and Boisgelin have both written histo-
ries of the Knights of Malta. Vertot
brought the story down to the beginning
of the eighteenth century, and Boisge-
lin is confined to the period in which
the order occupied Malta, beginning,
that is, with 1530, and terminating with
their expulsion by the French in 1797»
so that neither work has the whole story.
Mr. Sutherland has traced the whole,
from their origin as Knights Hospi-
tallers of St. John in the eleventh cen-
tury, glancing at each of their seventy
grand masters through their successive
migrations, from Palestine, Rhodes, and
Malta, to their present insignificance at
Paris.

On their extrusion from Malta by the
French, they were taken under the pro-
tection of Paul of Russia, who assumed
the style -and title of Grand Master.
Alexander chose to call himself the Pro-
tector of the order, and under his aus-
pices the Pope, in 1805, named Tom-
masi, an Italian knight, to the important
dignity, and he, we believe, still sur-
vives, and is in full possession of his
honours. The formalities of the order
are still maintained with some splendour
at Paris. Its members are still also nu-
merous, and many are of distinction,
especially among the French knights;
but their revenues are gone, and with
them of course all their power and in-
fluence. It just serves to gratify per-
sonal vanity. Three or four years ago
an attempt was made to get up a loan
at the Stock Exchange, to enable the
knights to recover Rhodes,' but the
speculation failed, like that of his High-
ness, the Cacique of Poyah. Mr. S.'s
history will require no supplement ; and
may be safely recommended as a com-
petent account of the career of the once
potent White-Cross Knights.

A corresponding sketch of the Red-
Cross Knights, or Templars, will be a
desirable accompaniment. Mr. Suther-

566

land has himself told their story in part,
but only so far as they conflicted with
their rivals of the White-Cross, under
whose superiority they finally sunk.
The destruction of the Templars is one
of the basest acts of scandal, oppression,
and cruelty, that stain the pages of his-
tory— scandalous and base as they often
are. Though suppressed, and their re-
venues conhscated — the very purpose
for which the order was oppressed— they
contrived to hang together, and to per-
petuatea succession. The Grand Master-
ship is still held by a French nobleman.
A sketch also of the Teutonic Knights,
who were forced, with the rest, to quit
Palestine in 1293, is still required.

Modern Fanaticism Unveiled. — Under
this general title the author's efforts are
directed to the exposure of some here-
tical extravagancies on the part of Irv-
ing and Erskine, and the miraculous
pretensions of Miss Mary Campbell, of
Gareloch. Mr. Irving has, it seems,
entrenched upon the limits of orthodoxy,
in some of his discussions on the Human
Nature of Christ. Stripped of technica-
lities, and extricated from perplexing
phraseology, the sum of his doctrine
seems to be, that Christ, as a man,' with
the passions of man, had a disposition,
and even desires, to commit sin, but re-
sisted— was liable to offend, and prompt-
ed to do so, but never actually com-
plied— was susceptible, but abstained —
was tempted, but triumphed. The
whole discussion seems to us merely
idle, and certainly not worth the indig-
nation expended by the author, who un-
dertakes to lift the veil of fanaticism,
though, doubtless, Mr. Irving, in the
indiscretion with which he commonly
enforces his sentiments, has indulged in
some startling and offensive language.
He has printed, it appears, that Christ
took/ flesh of man and woman — an ex-
pression which the Unveiler calls blas-
phemy ; but which, compared with the
general tenor of Irving's book, seems to
us to have been simply a slip.

Mr. Erskine has puzzled himself
about the Gift of Tongues, and suffered,
apparently, his own to run a little
before his wit ; while Miss Mary Camp-
bell makes no ceremony about the mat-
ter, but lays claim at once to the actual
possession of the apostolical gift. The
good lady, at Fernicary, babbles away
she knows not what, — but no matter,
Mr. McDonald, of Port Glasgow, has
the convenient and corresponding gift of
interpretation, and together they ac-
complish— we know not what. The au-
thor, upon close examination, can find
no analogy between these same gifts, as
enjoyed and exerted by Miss Campbell,
and her coadjutor, and those of the
apostles, and broadly discredits them ;

Monthly Review of Literature,

[MAY,

nor will the lady's " Miracles of Heal-
ing," in the author's opinion, bear the
test any better — and likely enough.
The volume is written, however, with
spirit and earnestness, and is obviously
the produce of a vigorous understand-
ing ; but its contents are not at all cal-
culated to weigh with his opponents,
and all others, we suspect, will trouble
themselves little about the matter. The
interest is merely local.

Standard Novels. Vols. I. and //.—
Modern novels are published at so high a
rate, that they can come within the com-
mand of few, except through the circu-
lating libraries. This is the first attempt
to bring any of the last forty or fifty
years — except the Waverley ones — with-
in the reach of numbers, to whom the
possession might often be desirable. The
Waverley series, of course, suggested
the publication ; but it is considerably
cheaper, but little inferior as to paper,
and not at all so as to the ornamental
part. The three-volumed novel is com-
prised within a single volume, and if
the Pilot be thought to present too full
a page, Caleb Williams is not liable even
to that objection. The selection may be
safely trusted to the publisher, whose
large experience fully enables him to
ascertain what has generally proved most
attractive. Prefixed to Caleb Williams
is a short Memoir of Godwin, by his
daughter, Mrs. Bysshe Shelley. Mr.
Godwin's father was a dissenting preach-
er at Norwich, and he himself preached
somewhere in the neighbourhood of Lon-
don for about five years. Since that pe-
riod, during a lapse of fifty years, he has
been before the world as a literary man,
and, as Johnson said of Goldsmith, in
his epitaph, nihil tetigit, quod non orna-
vit. He is now 75.

The Dramatic Annual ', l>y Frederick
Reynolds — The Dramatic Annual is fairly
indictable for trespass in any literary
court in the kingdom The Annuals are
now definitively recognised as the recep-
tacles of variety — the contributions of
numerous scribblers, in prose and verse,
and at least of materials that have not
been printed before, — while Reynolds's
Dramatic Annual, as he calls it, is simply
a consecutive story, the characters and
incidents of which are conceived in the
most tawdry taste of the most tawdry
milliner's novel. It is full of stale puns,
vapid jests, and coarse caricature, for the
most part a rechauffee of his own stupid
memoirs. The hero is a stage-struck
youth— a scribbler, not a performer — .
who, by the advice of the manager, sets
out on a tour " in search of character,"
and proves about as successful as the man
who visited the continent, for the pur-
pose of importing useful inventions, and
brought home a knife-grinder's wheel,

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

567

quires to be lifted lightly along,
cumbered with a draff-chain. TJ

which, if he had had any eyes, he might
have seen in every street at home. 1 he
wood-sketches are by Brooke, both design
and cutting, and are admirable in their
way. If the writer had called his book
Reynolds's Annual, the thing would
have been intelligible, and — just in his
way — approaching a pun.

Cabinet Cyclopedia. Vol. XVII. Hy-
drostatics and Pneumatics. — This is a po-
pular book on the subjects of hydrostatics
and pneumatics, which, with the aid of
a few diagrams, to the exclusion of ma-
thematical forms, gives a competent no-
tion of the principles upon which the
general conclusions are built, relative to
water and air. Dr. Lardner has made a
^ood use of his acquaintance with the
familiar facts which illustrate the prin-
ciples of science ; but there is an absence
of Hie and vigour, and a clumsy kind of
arrangement of materials, which combine
to throw an air of heaviness andprosiness
over the work, and which must be attri-
buted to an inability to convey his ex-
tensive knowledge in the most direct
form. We do not charge him with a
want of logic, technically, but with a
slip-sloppiriess of connection, and a
round-about sort of phraseology, which
retard precisely where the reader re-

unen-

drag-chain. The stu-
dent, however, must not expect the
writer in these matters to do every thing
for him — he must bring his whole atten-
tion with him, and not hope to read as
he runs ; if he does he will surely be
disappointed; but we believe, for his
comfort, the first chapter — that on Pres-
sure of Fluids— is the most repulsive,
and one that best justifies our complaint.

Hints addressed to the Small Holders
and Peasantry of Ireland on Road-making,
Ventilation, Qc., by Martin Doyle. — Mar-
tin Doyle thoroughly understands his
countrymen — all their wants and their
prejudices— their shrewdness and their
humour ; and while he aims at correcting
the one, frankly indulges the other. His
books are full of useful information and
excellent advice — skilfully adapted —
brought home not only to their under-
standing, but their feelings, and enli-
vened by little anecdotes, told broadly,
but all to the purpose. They are pub-
lished at Dublin, are cheap, and we be-
lieve largely circulated by benevolent
people, Road-making is the introductory
object, and much information relative to
the craft is given ; but the main purpose is
to enforce an honest and active perform-
ance of duty. Example will, however,
doubtless work more effectively than pre-
cept, and they must see their superiors
mend their manners, before they will at-
tempt it themselves. Roads in Ireland
are almost universally jobs — they are

granted to landlords to enable them to get
their rents, to whom they are actually
paid from the county rates ; — but Martin
Doyle's business lies wholly with the
workmen. In the rest of the publication,
cleanliness, pure air, and temperance,
form the burden of Martin's song; but
whether he will get his countrymen to
sing it — read it we mean — is another
question ; that is, we take it, at least
as unlikely, as to get the advice reduced
to practice. But here and there, where
there is already a predisposition, pro-
selytes will be made ; and at all events,
if nothing is attempted, nothing can be
done, nor any thing expected. Martin
has the merit of doing all that books can
do. He is a very clever fellow.

Mattaire on Greek Dialects, by the Rev.

J. Seager This volume completes Mr.

Seager's epitomising labours. With Vi-
ger, Hoogeveen, Bas, and Herman, the
Greek student has a set of scarcely dis-
pensible subsidia, at all events, in a more
accessible form than before. Of the
former works we have been inclined to
wish the compression still farther com-
pressed, especially Hoogeveen and Her-
man ; but Mattaire is scarcely suscep-
tible of more, for its usefulness consists
in the details. Mr. S. has laboured zea-
lously, and must be allowed to have dis-
cerned well of Greek literature. Mat-
taire's arrangements were not to be in-
terfered with, or a separation of the^Eolic
from the Doric dialect might have been
desirable.

Epitome of English Literature. Vol. I.
Paley's Moral Philosophy — Books mul-
tiply so rapidly that the most pains-
taking reader can throw but a glance at
half of them, and old books, in their full
dimensions, stand no chance of perusal
at all. To obviate this crying evil, the
projector of this publication — himself the
first of book-schemers — proposes to cut
down the best of them to a portable com-
pass, expressly to enable them to jostle
tor a reading with the novels and trifles
of the day. We have ourselves little
tolerance for a scheme which is to make
skeletons and 'syllabuses of works, the
merit of which often largely consists in
dilatation and detail ; but, what is worse,
individual peculiarities must vanish or
merge in the one uniform taste of the
despoiler of genius, and, like the reports
of parliamentary speeches, henceforth
speak all the same language. It is, in
fact, a conspiracy for murdering indivi-
dual reputation, and among those who
are to be thus sacrificed, we see the
names of Burnett, Clarendon, Gibbon,
Hume, Robertson, Bacon, Locke, Ad-
dison, Johnson, Milton, and Swift. Thus
stript and skinned, in what will Hume,
for instance, differ from the scores of
epitomes of English history ? But what

568

Monthly Review of Literature,

[MAY,

could induce the projectors to lay violent
hands upon Paley , is quite inconceivable.
So far from his being forgotten, his work
is a text-book at the Universities, and so
admirable, and still so modern, in man-
ner, that no change could be made but
for the worse. To have cut down the
Moral Philosophy into one handy little
volume, the operator seems to consider
a grand feat. We do not doubt Paley's
facts and even arguments are nume-
rically and honestly retained, but the
book "is no longer Paley's, and we have
too much respect for intellectual distinc-
tions, to contribute by any approbation
of ours, to its extinction.

A New Version of Homers Iliad. By
W. Sotheby, Esq. 2 vols. 8vo.— Waving
for the present our doubts as to the
practicability, and the utility, if they
were practicable, of adequate translations
from the ancient poets, whether in prose
or verse, we shall take a hasty glance at
the first book of Mr. Sotheby's version
— professing first our wonderment that
any man capable of doing what Mr.
Sotheby has done, should have thought
it worth his while to consume such im-
mense labour — all, we must believe, en
pure per te. Pope's version may not be
correct, but it is spirited, and tells the
tale ; while Cowper's is thoroughly cor-
rect, but dry as a chip, and perhaps never
was read by any body. The utmost Mr.
Sotheby could expect to accomplish, was
to couple the accuracy of the one with
the fire of the other — all but a hopeless
task. We are not sure that even in
point of faithfulness he has done better
than Pope. Pope we have not at hand,
and cannot compare passages ; but we
have Homer's self, and can notice, at
all events, the liberties Mr. Sotheby has
taken. In a metrical, and especially a
rhymed version, amplification must be
allowed — modern habits of expression,
moreover, demand it. But this ampli-
fication cannot warrantably extend to
the introduction of new ideas — to turns
of thought that are wholly modern — not
only to what was unknown, or to senti-
ments, that were not only unknown to
the poet, but wholly alien. It is here
that Mr. Sotheby offends.

Of Calchas — strictly, according to
Homer — Mr. Sotheby has —

" He all the present, past, and future knew ;"
and with this we should have been con-
tent ; but not so Mr. Sotheby, who
chooses to add — to complete the couplet
and round the sentence —

" All at his pleasure rose before his view."
which is just the kind of licence for
which Pope's version has been so libe-
rally abused.

Agamemnon's rage at the declaration
of Calchas is thus introduced by the
translator : —

" With lip that quivered in its ire,
Heart darkly boiling o'er with vengeful fire,
And eye that rolled in flame, proud Atreus' son,1'
&c.

Homer has not the slightest hint of the
first line. The quivering of the lip we
do not recollect to have been noticed by
any ancient poet ; and Mr. Sotheby is
obviously wholly indebted to his recol-
lections of Byron. Just so, when Achil-
les is said to have

" Hurled on the monarch words of living fire."
For which Homer furnishes nothing but
arafnifoi$ . nritcrcriv, which, whatever they
may mean, have nothing to do with liv-
ing fire.

" Be persuaded," says Nestor ; " you
(Achilles and Agamemnon) are both
younger than I ;" which Mr. Sotheby
turns in a style as foreign from Homer's
as Pope's can possibly be —
" When Nestor speaks, calm, younger-born, your

rage—

Time ripens wisdom on the lip of age."
This Mr. Sotheby might think was sen-
tentious and decisive, but nothing like
it ever dropped from the mouth of the
garrulous Nestor.

When the heralds reached Achilles'
tent to remove Briseis —
'• They trembling stood, nor spake, nor question

made —

which is strictly Homer ; but —

" Fear on the tongue its cold obstruction laid"—

is a sad piece of frippery for

" If ever again there be need of me
to repel a disgraceful pest from other s,"
says Achilles, according to Homer — but
in the words of Mr. Sotheby —
" If Greece again her waste deplore,
And, bowed in hopeless misery, require
My arm of strength — "

Not only is here a new idea introduced,
but the whole is a misconception, pro-
ceeding, apparently, from an oversight
of the words from others. In the intem-
perance of his rage, Achilles was pro-
testing he would never again help any
body — not the army merely.

When Achilles tells his mother he had
recommended Agamemnon to appease
the offended deity, he adds — u Rage
seized Atrides, and, starting up, he
gave utterance to a threat, which he
carried into execution." — Mr. S. has

" But instant ire

Poured in Atrides' heart consuming fire.
Rage on his lip, the opprobrious menace flung,
And his deeds match the malice of his tongue."

Which is more intolerable, for the li-
cence, and the pitiful attempt at point,
than any offence Pope ever committed.
But these are comparative trifles,
though characteristic of the version.
We have more serious grounds of com-

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

5(59

plaint.— When Ulysses presents Chry-
seis to her father, Mr. Sotheby says:—
" Forth came Chryseis, whom to Chryses's arms
The chief restored in all her virgin charms,"
Mr. Sotheby's purpose is obvious ; but
there is nothing in Homer to warrant
the assertion ; and, besides, Agamem-
non's own words to her father imply the
contrary. .

Minerva, in checking Achilles's dis-
position to violence, gives him permis-
sion to upbraid Agamemnon as much as
he likes. But what has Mr. Sotheby
made of it ? —
« Sheathe thy brave blade ; but sharper than thy

sword,
Fix in his heart the weapon of thy word."

A piece of perversion quite unpardon-
able a dandyism of taste and senti-
ment, from which Homer is wholly and
always free.

Once more. In the description of the
sacrifice, the. thighs of the Oxen are
burnt, and the viscera tasted, before the
animals are wholly cut up, and the parts
to be eaten are roasted. This tasting of
the viscera was obviously a part of the
ceremonial, and not of the feast— by
which they shewed^ says the scholiast,
by a visible act, EX. 4uXaf ""Xsiv •mvS'wnav.
Mr. Sotheby, wholly mistaking the mat-,
ter, and consulting nothing but his ima-
gination, says —
" And when the thighs were burnt, and keen

desirn
Had try'd the entrails fuming from the fire."

As if they were so hungry they could
not wait another moment. But we have
no more space. Mr. Sotheby's version
will not supersede Pope, nor does it de-
serve to do so — though the versification
seems to be more equally sustained.

The Siamese Twins; a Tale of the
Times, by the Author ofPelham. — Shrewd,
and clever, and cultivated- -familiar, too,
with the spirit of the day, and the pre-
tensions of all pretenders, the author of
Pelham could scarcely, when indulging
his bent to the satirical, fail to produce
a performance— sometimes amusing, in
whatever direction he pointed his shafts.
The tale of the Siamese is merely whim-
sical, and scarcely worth noticing — it
represents the two Siamese, of whom all
the world has heard, to be endowed with
dispositions and feelings in perfect con-
trast with each other. Of course the
cross-purposes and awkward results thus
producible may readily be imagined ; but
by thrusting them upon adventures in
London life, the author gains an oppor-
tunity of pointing his satire against per-
sons and follies of fashionable notoriety.
This enables him to throw off much of
Ida spleen, and he does it with a good
will and strength of purpose, that shew

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 65.

him more in earnest than he would will-
ingly have it believed he feels. The
periodicals have occasionally handled him
roughly ; but generally his talents have
been so promptly and largely acknow-
ledged, that it was scarcely worth his
while to notice, and least of all to ascribe,
the severity to personal or interested
motives. He gives importance to what,
in itself, has none, and would not be re-
membered, but for the annoyance he
betrays, and the pains he takes to keep
it all .alive. There is poetry in the vo-
lume, of a cast to deserve the name,
enough- to set up half a dozen scribblers,
but it is fairly buried under masses of
matter of inferior quality, and of tran-
sient interest.

How holy woman's youth— while yet
Its rose with life's first dews is wet-
While hope most pure is least confest,
And all the Virgin in the breast I
O'er her white brow, wherein the blue

Transparent vein seemed proud to bear
The warm thoughts of her heart — unto

The soul so nobly palaced there !
O'er her white brow were richly braided

The tresses in a golden flow ;
But darkly slept the lash that shaded

Her deep eye, on its.lids of snow.
What could that magic eye inspire?
Its very light was a desire ;
And each blue wandering of its beam,
Called forth a worship and a dream ;
The soft rose on'her softest cheek

Had yet the sun's last smile to win ;
But not the less each blush could speak

How full the sweetness hived within.
The rich lip in its bright repose
Refused above its wealth to close,
And mid the coral and the dew,
The pearls all freshly glistened thro',
And round that lip, in dimpled cell,
The smiles that wreathe enchantment dwel! —
Waked by a word— and yet revealing
A witness less of Mirth than Feeling —
Rounded her glorious shape ;— tho" mute
Died Echo round her fairy foot,
Tho' small as childhood's was the band

That lightly clasp'd her graceful vest,
And tho' so slight her tempting hand,

You, hid it while you prest,
Yet formed the hills her robe control'd
In Love's most ripe luxuriant mould.
Not in more swelling whiteness sails
Cayster's swan to western gales,
When the melodious murmur sings
'Mid her slow-heav'd voluptuous wings.
And never on a breast more formed

For lofty dreams — yet low devotion —
More tender, or more truly warmed

With all which lights— yet guides— emotion ;
More fitted i« the evil day
To be man's solace and his stay ;
Never on breast more rich in aught
That comforts grief— but heightens thought-
Did lover rest, and feel the earth,
Had faded round him into dearth—
That Fate was baffled ; and that Change
Had lost the wish— the power to range ;

4 D

570

Monthly Review of Literature.

[MAY,

And all the world— its hopes— Us charms —
Its Future— shrunk within his armsl
O Woman ! day-star of our doom—
Thy dawn our birth — thy close our tomb,
Or if the Mother or the Bride,
Our fondest friend and surest guide ; —
And yet our folly and our fever,
The Dream — the Meteor — the Deceiver —
Still, spite of sorrow — wisdom — years —
And those — Fate's sternest warners — tears —
Still clings my yearning heart unto thee,
Still knows no wish like those which woo thee,
Still in some living form essays
• To clasp the bright cloud it portrays ; —
And still as one who waits beside,
But may not ford, the faithless tide —
It wears its own brief life away —
It marks the shining Waters stray-
Courts every change that glads the river —
And finds that change it pines for — never !

Sketches of Buenos Ayres, Chili, and
Perti. By Samuel Haigh, Esq. — Mr.
Haigh's ' Sketches of Buenos Ayres, and
Chili,' were among the most agreeable
and intelligent of the many scores of
volumes published within these few
years upon South America, by miners,
supercargoes, and soldiers. The new
volume is of the same character pre-
cisely— containing, however, a more
consecutive account of his first journey
across the now familiar Pampas, and
his passage over the Cordilleras in the
very depth of winter — together with the
results of a more extended and intimate
acquaintance with the country. Within
the last fourteen years Mr. H. has
thrice visited South America in com-
mercial speculations, and his last trip
enables him to add some sketches of Peru
to those of Buenos Ayres and Chili. His
opportunities of domestic intercourse —
of prying into the interior arrangements
of family economy, must have been con-
siderable, and he communicates his dis-
coveries in an easy and effective manner.
Mendoza he found one of the loveliest
snots in the world, and his successive
visits detracted nothing from the charm.
Santiago he reached at a most critical
period, and actually witnessed the battle
of Maypo, won by San Martin — a battle
that must be regarded as prompting
those vigorous efforts which ultimately
ed to the decisive conflict of Ayacucho,
and the independence of the Spanish
provinces. Mr. H. refers, for many of
his historical details, to General Miller's
Memoirs, as containing the fullest and
most authentic account of the triumph
of Chili.

According to Mr. Haigh, the habits
and domestic manners of the Spaniards,
are rapidly changing. English and
Americans from the United States every
where abound, and every where com-
municate something a little nearer to
refinement— certainly more cleanliness
and decorum. At Valparaiso, society is
not yet so exclusive as at Santiago — At

a ball given by the governor, a young
lady, after the dance, asked her partner,
an officer of an English frigate, if he had
engaged a washerwoman, hoping, if he
had not, he would give her the pre-
ference.

English merchants at home are very
apt to suspect their agents abroad-*
without, Mr. H. affirms, much reason.
He himself was greatly annoyed at the
mode of doing business in America.
" The difficulties are much greater, he
says, than people in England usually
imagine — for instance, if a bill falls due,
should the party not be able to meet it,
he has no hesitation in telling you that
he cannot pay it ; and should you pro-
ceed to the Cabeldo, or Board of Trade,
to compel him to do so, the members of
that body are so lenient, that they gene-
rally allow the payer his own time.
Some of the board are precisely in the
same predicament with the party com-
plained of, being themselves shop-
keepers, and owing monies, for pur-
chases. Should you proceed to lay an
embargo upon a debtor's warehouse, all
persons who can prove any of the goods
to have belonged to them, can take
them from the premises ; consequently,
in the event of your own having been
disposed of, you get nothing for your
pains, unless you find ready money.
This system of trade is indispensible,
though so full of risks ; for should you
think to effect all your sales for cash
only, a long life could not afford time
for the disposal of a large cargo. The
lax system of the laws relative to credit,
and their usual leaning towards the deb-
tor, places a seller, as it were, at the
honour or mercy of the buyer."

Here is a little question for the zoolo«
gical folks of Regent's Park : —

The Biscachas abound all over the plains :
these little innocent animals generally make their
appearance about an hour before the sun sets,
and gambol about in his departing rays. During
the day they are seldom seen but at the mouth
of their caves. It is strange that two owls may
be almost always observed standing as if on
guard. I have never learnt whether any affinity
exists between the biscachas and these birds.
The owls have an aspect of great solemnity, and
as the) stand apart at each side of the cavern,
they remind one of those two mute and melan-
choly oking gentlemen, so frequently seen
stationed at the doors of houses in England, as
the prologue to the performance of a funeral.

Sketches of Irish Character, by Mrs.
S.C. Hall: Second Series. — Mrs. Hall
threatens — no, she is much too gentle
to do anything so harsh, as to threaten
in her own person, but she announces
an intention, with this second series of
sketches, of bidding the subject of Irish
Character, adieu — an intention, which
she will not, and must not, carry into
execution. Her object is not yet wholly

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

571

accomplished, nor are her materials ex-
hausted ; the subject too, has become
her own — she has no rival, and is fairly
committed as long as Ireland has vir-
tues to disclose, or wrongs to redress.
Crofton Croker does not interfere with
her purpose ; that purpose has been
professedly to exhibit Irish Character
among the humbler classes, where, of
course, it is likely to be purest in its
most agreeable and advantageous fea-
tures ; and her young women, accord-
ingly, have all the charms and warmth
of simplicity, and her young men, the
bravery and frankness of chivalry.
Mrs. H. speaks from personal knowledge,
and we throw no discredit on anything so
attractive ; we would rather that realities
presented no exceptions. She seems to
think, where the noble qualities of Irish
youth degenerate, it proceeds wholly
from bad management, but that is not
peculiar to Ireland. It is the education
of circumstances, that works most of the
mischief, all the world over, and per-
haps of the good too. *• Anne Leslie'
and fcMick Conner's wooing and wed-
ding,' are among the most agreeable of
the sketches. l The Rapparee,' with
more energy and passion, approaches too
near the tone of the melo-drame.
' We'll see about it,' and ' Larry Moore,'
are in the very best style of Miss Edge-
worth's efforts ; the details of Irish in-
dolence and carelessness, are happy and
humorous. Much of the misery and
degradation of the Irish peasantry, now
springs from absentees, notwithstanding
the economists, who, by the way, in
their eagerness to promote production,
never care a straw what becomes of the
producer — and Mrs. H. more than once
introduces the rapacity of middlemen,
and the rascalities of uncontrolled agents
—the inevitable consequences of ab-
senteeism. There is still ample room
for exposure, in this department of
Irish economy ; and Mrs. H. is ob-
viously too kindly disposed towards her
native land, to withhold her aid, as long
as she can contribute assistance, and
wants no telling that exposition must
go before redress.

Voyages and Discoveries of the Compa-
nions of Columbus, by Washington Irving.
—Family Library, Vol. XVIII.— The
splendid discoveries of Columbus, and,
still more, his magnificent anticipations,
set the whole Spanish nation agog ; and
every one, young or old, who had his
own way to make in the world, naturally
looked to the west as the scene where
riches and renown were to be won. The
old crews of Columbus, almost every
man of them, were heroes in their own
imaginations, and many of them aspired
to distinctions that should equal them
with their commander. Ferdinand, too,

who, in the first glow of his gratitude,
had conferred upon Columbus honours
and powers of which he quickly re-
pented, gladly encouraged competitors
by way of counterpoise. Commissions
and authorities were accordingly granted
to any that would ask for them, provided
they could fit out vessels at their own
expense ; and granted, too, not only in
contempt of Columbus's rights and those
of his family, but specifically to clip and
cripple them. The consequence was a
series of expeditions ; and the result of
them discoveries, which, without them,
would probably not have been made for
ages. The leaders of these expeditions,
impelled by temerity and cupidity,
rushed upon perils and difficulties which
drew out all their powers, and prompted
others to deeds or the most romantic,
and often of the most chivalrous charac-
ter. The interval between Columbus
and the exploits of Cortes and Pizarro,
presents a list of bold spirits, whose ad-
ventures are but little known ; and
these Mr. Irving has detailed with a
sort of congenial feeling that throws a
little of the smoothness and softness of
romance iipon what in reality had no-
thing but ruggedness and brutality.
Riches were the object of pursuit, and
the agents generally desperadoes — ready
to cut their way to them through every
obstacle, moral or physical ; and in this
resolute spirit, which shews what the
man who dares can do, consists all
that can possibly in them command
admiration. They were maddened by
enthusiasm, and the sacred thirst of gold
hallowed every act.

The story which occupies the largest
portion of the volume, is the singular
one of Nunez de Bilboa. He was at St.
Domingo, in debt, and in imminent peril
from his creditors, when the Bachelor
Enciso, who had scraped together a few
thousand ducats, bitten by the common
madness, very unlawyerlike, hazarded
the Avhole in one of Ojeda's projects. Bil-
boa got on board the Bachelor's ship in a
cask, and eluded his pursuers ; and, by
his activity and readiness, made from
an enemy a friend of the Bachelor.
Amidst the subsequent splitting of inte-
rests at Darien, Bilboa supplanted the
Bachelor, and rose upon the ruins of
the chiefs Ojeda and Nicuessa, by the
confidence in his resources with which
he contrived to impress his associates.
Not, however, feeling very secure in his
new elevation, he looked anxiously about
for some dazzling achievement ; and the
discovery of the Pacific was the reward
of labours — so enormous, they well de-
served to be so repaid. Upon this dis-
covery he relied for establishing an in-
fluence with the government at home ;
but, unluckily, before his agents, loaded
with splendid presents, reached the

4 D 2

572

Monthly Review of Literature,

[MAY,

king, the Bachelor had made his repre-
sentations of Bilboa's usurpations ; and
Davila was, in consequence, appointed
governor of the whole Darien coast.
Bilboa wisely submitted, till a new com-
mission reached him, but one still which
placed him subordinate to Davila. Jea-

lousies and quarrels speedily followed,
and Bilboa finally sunk under the supe-
rior skill or fortune of Davila. Davila
seized him, and hung him without cere-
mony.

The volume is a very interesting ap-
pendage to the Life of Columbus.

FINE ARTS' PUBLICATIONS.

The 'History and Topography of the
United States of North America — Of this
work, one or two of the early numbers
of which we have already noticed, twelve
parts have appeared. The plan and cha-
racter of it are thus sufficiently deve-
loped to enable us to form a full judg-
ment upon its merits. It is in every
respect one of the ablest and most use-
ful, publications that have appeared for
years ; and promises to form, beyond all
comparison, the most complete and per-
fect history of America that has ever
been published. It comprises every
thing that the most exact lover of de-
tails could wish to know, and yet con-
tains not a syllable more than the ge-
neral reader may peruse unfatigued.
Every page of it is a history as far as
interest is concerned. The style is free
from all affectation and ambiguity ; and
the comments and opinions are manly,
candid, and liberal. The embellish-
ments, of which each number contains
three, are well executed, and afford an
idea which we have not hitherto had of
the national architecture and scenery of

this extraordinary country. The maps
also, which are said to be carefully re-
vised to the present day, are a valuable
accompaniment to the work. Mr. Hil-
ton deserves the thanks of all who take
an interest in the history of America, or
are willing to dp justice to her people
and her institutions.

The subjects of four numbers of the
Outlines of British Paintings and Sculp,
tures, form a catalogue which can hardly
fail to attract. We can mention only
the finest or most celebrated of them : —
Distraining for Rent, Wilkie; Statue
of Washington, Chantrey ; Lord Cos-
mo Russell, Landseer ; The Wounded
Brigand, Eastlake ; Vision of the White
Horse, Loutherburg ; Lafayette at Ol-
matz, Northcote; Temple of Jupiter,
Turner ; Marriage a la Mode, Hogarth ;
Charles the Second and the Duchess of
Orleans, Stothard ; Epaminondas, West;
Lord Mansfield's Monument, Flaxman,
&c. Some of the subjects are more cal-
culated for effect in these small outlines
than others ; but they are all cleverly
executed.

WORKS IN THE PRESS AND NEW PUBLICATIONS.

WORKS IN THE PRESS.

By the Rev. Daniel Tyerman, and
George Bennet, Esq. Compiled from
the original documents, by James Mont-
gomery, Esq. : a Journal of a Voyage
round the World, undertaken to pro-
mote the objects of the London Mis-
sionary Society, during the years 1821
to 1829, in two volumes.

By Hugh Ronalds : a Descriptive Ca-
talogue of the most valuable sorts of
Apples.

A Picturesque Pocket Companion to
Margate, Ramsgate, Broadstairs, and
the parts adjacent. Illustrated by one
hundred and twenty engravings.

By Mrs. Sherwood : The First Part
of a Dictionary of Scriptural Types, ac-
companied with Essays illustrative of
the Application of them in the Expla-
nation of the Scriptures.

By John Gait, Esq.: The Lives of
the Actors.

By Captain Marryatt, author of the
King's Own : Newton Forster, or the
Merchant's Service.

The Young Muscovite ; or the Poles
in Russia, an Historical Novel.

By Oliver Moore : The Staff Officer,
or the Soldier of Fortune, a Tale of
Real Life.

By Theodore Hook, John Gait,
G. P. R. James, and others : The Club
Book, consisting of Original Tales.

The Fifth and Sixth Parts of Mr.
Booth's Analytical Dictionary of the
English Language.

The Parliamentary Pocket Book, or
Key to both Houses of Parliament.

By J. D. Parry, M.A. : a new His-
tory and Description of the Town of
Woburn ; a Biography of the Russell
Family ; and a Guide to Woburn Ab-
bey.

By the Rev. John Thomas Becher :
a System of Endowments for the Pro-
vident Classes in every Station in Life.

By a Polish Nobleman : The History
of Poland from the earliest period to the
present time.

By the author of the O'Hara Tales :
The Smuggler, a Novel.

1831.]

List of New Works.

573.

By Sir Arthur de Capel Brooke:
Sketches in Spain and Morocco.

By Ross Cox, Esq. : Columbia River,
or Scenes and Adventures during a Re-
sidence of Six Years on the western side
of the Rocky Mountains.

LIST OF NEW WORKS.

BIOGRAPHY AND HISTORY.

State Papers of the Time of King
Henry VIII. Parts I. and II. Contains
the Letters of Cardinal Wolsey to Henry
VIII. 4to. £3. 3s. Large paper £5. 5s.

Knox's History of the Reformation in
Scotland. By Wm. M'Gavin. 8vo. 15s.

History of England. Vol. I. By
Francis Palgrave, Esq. 5s. Being Vol.
XXI. of Mr. Murray's Family Library.

Outlines of History, (from Dr. Lard-
ner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia,) for Schools.
12mo. 6s.

Shepherd's Historical Account of St.
Vincent. 8vo. 12s.

A Memoir of the Life of the Rt. Hon.
Robert, First Earl of Northington,
Lord Chancellor of Great Britain. By
Lord Henley. 8vo. 8s. 6d.

National Library. Vols. VII. VIII.
and IX. Contents, Bourrienne's Me-
moirs of Buonaparte. 18s.

Commentaries on the Life and Reign
of Charles the First, King of England.
By I. D 'Israeli. Vol. V. 8vo. 14s.

Todd's (Rev. J. H.) Life of Cranmer.
2 vols. 8vo. £1. 6s.

Lord Bvron, with Remarks on his
Genius and Character. By E. Bagnall,
B.A. 8vo. 4s. 6d.

Social Life in England and France,
from the French Revolution of 1789.
8vo. 7s-

MATHEMATICAL.

Cambridge Classical Examination
Papers. This Work comprises speci-
mens of the Examinations for different
University Scholarships, the Classical
Tripos, and the Classical Medal, toge-
ther with College Annual Examination
Papers, systematically arranged. By J.
M. F. Wright, B.A. In Two Parts.
Part I. Pure Mathematics. Part II.
Mixed Mathematics. 8vo. 7s. 6d. each.

Hints and Answers, being a Key to a
Collection of Mathematical Examination
Papers, as given at the several Colleges.
Part I. containing Euclid, Arithmetic
and Algebra. 8vo. 7s. 6d.

Mathematical Questions, proposed at
the Public Examinations in the Univer-
sity of Oxford, from the year 1826, to
the present Time. 8vo. 3s. 6d.

Dr. Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia.
Vol. XVIL 6s. bds., being Hydro-
statics and Pneumatics.

MISCELLANEOUS.

The Bridal Night, and other Poems.
By Dugald Moore. 12mo. 7s. 6d.

Gebir, Count Julian, and other Poems.
By W. S. Landor, Esq. 10s. 6d.

Lectures on Music. By William
Crotch, Prof, of Mus., Oxon. Post 8vo.
7s. 6d.

Stewart's Conveyancing. Vol. III.
£L4s.

Laws of the Greek Accents. By John
Griffiths, Fellow of Wadham College,
Oxon. 8vo. 2s.

An Essay on the Distribution of
Wealth, and on the Sources of Taxation.
By the Rev. R. Jones. 8vo. 6s. 6d.

Thorp's Lectures on the Destinies of
the British Empire. 8vo. 6s.

The Good Servant, and other Tracts,
or Examples and Warnings in Humble
Life. 18mo. 2s. 6d.

Mayo (Dr.) on the Influence of
Temperament in Modifying Indiges-
tion. 8vo. 5s. 6d.

St. John Long's Exposure of Medical
Practitioners, with Observations, &c.
8vo. 10s, 6d.

Richard's Elements of Botany, &c.
translated by W. Macgillivray. 8vo.
14s.

An Effective Method for forming an
Instantaneous Communication with the
Shore in Shipwreck. By John Murray,
F.S.A. 2s. 6d.

A Few Words on Many Subjects,
Grave and Light. 12mo. 6s.

Petit Theatre de la Jeunesse, com-
pose' pour mes Ele'ves. Par Madame
Backker. 12mo. 6s.

NOVELS AND TALES.

Destiny; or the Chief's Daughter.
By the author of u Marriage," and " The
Inheritance." Post 8vo. £1. 11s. 6d.

Bogle Corbet, or the Emigrants. By
John Gait. 3 vols. £1. 11s. 6d.

At Home and Abroad. By the author
of " Rome in the Nineteenth Century."
3 vols. £1. 4s.

The Young Duke. By the Author of
" Vivian Grey." 3 vols. £1. 11s. 6d.

Standard Novels. Vol. II. Caleb
Williams, complete.

Standard Novels. Vol. III. The
Spy, complete. 6s. each.

The Old Man of the Mountain, and
other Tales from the German of Tieck.
12mo. 6s.

Sketches of Irish Character. By Mrs.
S. C. Hall. Second Series. Crown 8vo.
9s.

Alibeg, the Tempter. By W. C.
Green. 4 vols. 12mo. £1. 2s.

The King's Secret. By the author
of the " Lost Heir." 3 vols. £1. lls. 6d.

RELIGION AND MORALS.

Sermons. By the Rev. J. C. Fen-
wick. 8vo. 12s.

Sermons. By the Rev. J. Younge.
8vo. 10s. 6d.

Bishop Andrews' Sermons on the Fasts
and Festivals. By Davis. 8vo. 10s. 6d.

The Pulpit. Vol. XVI. 8vo. 7s. Cd.

574

List of New Works.

[MAY,

Sermons. By tl\e Rev. A. Ollivant.
8vo. 8s.

Lectures on the Ecclesiastical History
of the First Century. By the Rev. Ed-
ward Burton, D.D. 8vo. 10s. Gd.

Ecclesiastical History of the First
Eight Centuries, in a Course of Lec-
tures lately delivered at Founders' Hall,
London. By W. Jones, M . A., Author of
" Lectures on the Apocalypse." Vol. I.
8vo. 12s. bds.

Johaiuia Baillie, on the General
Tenour of the New Testament, regard-
ing the Nature and Dignity of Jesus
Christ. 8yo. 5s.

A Treatise on the Faith and Influence
of the Gospel. By the Rev. Archibald
Hall. 12mo. 5s.

Evangelical Spectator. By the author
of the Evangelical Rambler. Vol. III.
4s. 6d.

Female Piety and Zeal exemplified,
in Memoirs of Miss Ely. By her bro-
ther, Rev. John Ely, of Rochdale.
18mo. 3s.

Doddridge's (Dr.) Correspondence.
Vol. V. 15s.

Essays on Church Polity. 3s.

Counsels for the Communion Table ;
or, Persuasives to an Immediate Observ-
ance of the Lord's Supper. By John
Morison, D.D. Is. 6d.

History of Christianity to the Age of
Constantine. 2s. 6d.

Latrobe, (Rev. J.) on Church Music.
8vo. 10s. 6d.

VOYAGES AND TRAVELS.

Fragments of Voyages and Travels,
including Anecdotes of a Naval Life,
chiefly for the Use of Young Persons.
By Captain Basil Hall, R.N. 3 vols.
15s.

Travels and Discoveries in Africa.
By Denham, Clapperton, and others,
4 vols. 18mo. £1.

A Narrative of a Visit to the Court
of Sinde; a Sketch of the History of
Cutch, from its first connection with the
British Government in India, till the
conclusion of the Treaty of 1819. By
James Burnes, Surgeon to the Resi-
dency at Bhooj. 8vo. 9s.

Italy described. By Josiah Conder.
3 vols." 18mo. 18s.

PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.

Neiv Patents sealed in March, 1831.

To Thomas Brunton, Park-square,
Regent's Park, Middlesex, Esq., for an
improvement in certain apparatus, ren-
dering the same applicable to distilling. —
28th March ; G months.

To Thomas Coleman, Saint Albans,
Hertfordshire, for an improved roller
for horses.— 2!)th March ; 6 months.

To Andrew Ure, Finsbury - circus,
Middlesex, M.D., for an improved ap-
paratus for distilling.— 31st March; 6
months.

To John Wallace, Leith, brazier, for
an improvement or improvements upon
the safety hearth for the use of vessels. —
31st March ; G months.

To James Slater, Salford, Lancaster,
bleacher, for certain improvements in
the method of generating steam or va-
pour applicable as a moving power, and
to arts and manufactures, and also for
improvements in vessels or machinery
employed for that purpose.— 2nd April ;
6 months.

To William Rutherford, jun., Jed-
burgh, Scotland, writer and bank agent,
for a combination or arrangement of
apparatus or mechanism to be used by
itself, or applied to locks and other
fastenings for more effectually protecting
property. — 14th April ; G months.

To Samuel Morand, Manchester,
Lancaster, merchant, for an improved
stretching machine. — 14th April; 6
months.

To Thomas Brunton, Park-square,
Regent's Park, Middlesex, Esq., for an
improvement in certain apparatus, ren-
dering the same applicable to steam en-
gines. - 14th April ; 6 months.

To Thomas Brunton, Park-square,
Regent's Park, Middlesex, Esq., lor an
improvement in certain apparatus, ren-
dering the same applicable for making
or refining sugar. — 14th April ; 6
months.

To Thomas Gaunt, Chapman-street,
Islington, Middlesex, gentleman, and
George Frederick Eckstein, Holborn,
in the same county, stove and grate
manufacturer, for an improved fire-
grate— 14th April ; 6 months.

List of Patents which having been granted
in the month of May, 1817, expire in
the present month of May , 1831.

6. William Collins, Greenwich, /or Aw
improved metal for sheathing ships.

8. Henry Wilms, Lambeth, for an
improved artificial leg, arm, and hand.

13. James Gerard Colbert, London,
for his improved screws of iron, brass, steel,
or other metals.

— Richard Williams, Darsley, for his
improvements in manufacturing cards for
dressing wool.

— John Walker, London, for his im-
proved method of extracting the molasses or
treacle from Muscovado, brown, or new
sugar.

1831.]

List of New Works.

575

17. Archibald Thomson, Christchurch,
for his machine for cutting corks.

— Robert Salmon, Woburn, for his
improved apparatus for using candles.

— William Bound and William Stone,
London, for their improved retorts for gas-
light apparatus.

— Benjamin Cook, Birmingham, for
his improved method of constructing solid
and hollow rollers and cylinders.

— William Owen, Wrexham, for his
portable table or box mangle.

22. Philip Hutchinson Clay, London,
for his combination of machinery for mak-
ing and repairing roads.

— Seth Hunt, London, for his im-
proved escapements for clocks and chrono-
meters.

— Roger Didot, Paddington, for his
improved machine for paper making.

— George Manwaring, Lambeth, for
his improvements in steam engines.

23. Seth Hunt, London, for his im-
provements in machinery for making pins.

BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS.

JOHN ABERNETHY, ESQ., F.R.S.

Mr. Abernethy, one of the most emi-
nent surgeons of the day, and generally
regarded as the ablest lecturer in Lon-
don, on anatomy, surgery, and patho-
logy, was born in the year 1765. His
professional studies were commenced at
St. Bartholomew's Hospital as far back
as the year 1780 ; and, on the resigna-
tion of Mr. Pott, he became assistant
surgeon to that institution. He also
succeeded that gentleman as lecturer
on anatomy and surgery. In his mode
of teaching, Mr. Abernethy was not
very minute on anatomy, a thorough
knowledge of which, he conceived, could
be acquired only in the dissecting room ;
but the energy of his manner, and the
apposite and forcible illustrations which
he was accustomed to introduce, never
failed to fix the attention of his pupils,
and to impart a lively interest to all
that he delivered. One of his great ob-
jects was to impress on their minds, that
the education of a surgeon is never com-
plete, and that his wliole life should be
a course of study. He was opposed to
the division of surgery into distinct de-
partments ; such as that of oculist, au-
rist, &c. ; considering the whole as es-
sentially connected, and that no man,
properly educated, could be ignorant of
the diseases which those respective divi-
sions embrace.

At an early period of life, Mr. Aber-
nethy came before the public as an au-
thor. He published u Surgical Obser-
vations," in two volumes ; and " Lec-
tures," in one volume, explanatory of
Mr. Hunter's opinions of the vital pro-
cesses ; with a Hunterian Oration,
giving a farther account of Mr. Hunter's
laborious and professional character.
New editions of these works appeared in
1806 and 1810, and possibly since. For
Dr. Rees's Cyclopcedia, Mr. Abernethy
wrote the anatomical articles included
under the letters A. and B. At one
period, we believe, he was violently op-
posed to the phrenological doctrines of
Gall and Spurzheim ; but, afterwards,
he became partially, if not wholly a con-

vert— and he had the manly candour to
acknowledge it. He did not, however,
assent to all the minute divisions of the
brain insisted on by phrenologists.

When Dr. Marshall relinquished his
popular lectures at Thavies' Inn, Mr.
Abernethy's class increased, as did also
his practice. He was some time pro-
fessor of Anatomy to the Corporation of
Surgeons. In one of his essays, he pub-
lished an account of cases in which he
had tied the external iliac artery — a
bold and meritorious operation. This
improvement in surgery established his
fame, and increased the credit of the
English school throughout Europe.
Under Mr. Abernethy's auspices, St.
Bartholomew's Hospital attained a ce-
lebrity which it had never before en-
joyed. -

On the death of Sir Charles Blicke,
he was elected surgeon in his room. He
was a Fellow of the Royal Society ; an
Honorary member of the Royal Medical
Society of Edinburgh, and of the Me-
dical Societies of Paris and Philadel-
phia, one of the Court of Assistants of
the Royal College of Surgeons, London,
and one of the Curators of their Mu-
seum.

Mr. Abernethy's mode of treatment
in cases of dyspepsia, &c., was extremely
simple, yet unprecedentedly successful.
He was a man of eccentric habits ; and
,in manners, frequently coarse, vulgar,
and — as they have been described —
almost brutal, even to women. No-
thing could excuse this : it could not
have been natural, therefore must have
been affected ; and all affectation of
eccentricity — frequently its reality — is
more or less disgusting.

After a protracted indisposition, Mr.
Abernethy expired at Enfield on the
18th of April.

SIR EDWARD BERRY, BART, &C.

Sir Edward Berry, Baronet, of Cat-
ton, in the county of Norfolk, K.C.B.,
Rear- Admiral of the Red, was the fourth
son of Sir Edward Berry, Esq., a mer-
chant in London, by Elizabeth, daugh-

576

Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.

[MAY,

ter of the Rev. Thos. Forster, of Barba-
dos, F.R S. He was born in 1708 ; and,
having evinced an early predilection for
the sea service, he was introduced into
the royal navy, under the auspices of
Captain Lord 'Mulgrave, (elder brother
cf the Earl lately deceased,) who at-
tempted the discovery of a north-east
passage. He was entered as midship-
man on the 5th of February, 1779, some
months before he had completed his
eleventh year. His first voyage was to
the East Indies, in the Burford, of 70
guns ; and, from that period, he was
long engaged in a continued series of ac-
tive service. xOn the first war of the
French revolution, he received a Lieu-
tenant's commission for spiritedly board-
ing a ship of war. His merit in the
action of the 1st of June acquired for
him the friendship of Nelson and of Sir
John Jervis, afterwards Earl St. Vin-
cent. He served under Nelson, as first
Lieutenant, in the Captain, in the action
oft' St. Vincent's, on the 14th of Febru-
ary, 1797 ; and by his extraordinary
activity in boarding the San Nicolas and
San Josef, he acquired the honest eulo-
gium of every officer in the fleet. Lieu-
tenant Berry was the first man who
jumped into the mizen chains of the
San Nicolas. v

In the course of this year, he was
made Post Captain ; and, in 1798, lie
was appointed to the Vanguard, the
flag-ship of Nelson, in the squadron
detached by Earl St. Vincent into the
Mediterranean. In the battle of the
Nile, on the 1st of August, in the same
year, he again most brilliantly distin-
guished himself. In the heat of the
action, when Admiral Nelson was wound-
ed in the head, Captain Berry caught
him in his arms, and caused him to be
immediately conveyed to the cockpit.
He took possession of the Spartiate;
and, in the explosion of L'Orient, he
exerted himself in the most humane
manner in saving the crew of that unfor-
tunate ship. To the skill and bravery
of his companion in arms, Admiral
Nelson, in his official letter to Earl St.
Vincent, relating the particulars of this
victory, thus bore testimony : —

" The support and assistance I have
received from Captain Berry cannot be
sufficiently expressed. I was wounded
in the head, and obliged to be carried off
the deck, but the service suffered no loss
by that event. Captain Berry was fully
equal to the important service then
going on, and to him I must beg leave
to refer you for every information re-
lative to this victory. He will present
you with the flag of the second in com-
mand, that of the Commander-in-Chief
being burnt in the L'Orient."

Captain Berry was sent home in the
Leander, Captain Thompson, with the

dispatches, but was unfortunately cap-
tured by a French «0 gun ship, after
a hard action, during which he was
wounded in the arm, by a fragment of a
man's skull. Having been exchanged,
he returned to England, was knighted
(December 12, 1798) arid presented with
the freedom of the city of London in a
gold box.

In the following year, Sir Edward
Berry sailed to the Mediterranean, as
Captain of the Foudroyant, Lord Nel-
son's flag-ship. On the night of the
30th of March, while stationed off Mal-
ta, he captured the Guillaume Tell, of
86 guns, and 1000 men, after a severe
engagement, in which he was again
wounded. While on this station, he
also captured the Genereux, of 74 guns.

Sir Edward at length returned to Eng-
land, and for some time enjoyed a re-
laxation from the toils of service.

He had married December 12, 1797,
Louisa, the eldest daughter of the
Rev. Samuel Forster, D.D., then head
master of the Norwich Free Grammar
School. In the month of October, 1800,
he presented to the Corporation of Nor-
wich the ensign of the French ship
Genereux, which was suspended in St.
Andrew's Hall, in that city, with an ap-
propriate inscription.

In 1805, Sir Edward Berry again
sailed under the command of the hero of
the Nile, as Captain of the Agamemnon,
of 64 guns ; was engaged in the van
division of the fleet, in the memorable
engagement off Cape Trafalgar, on the
21st of October ; and, as usual, sustained
his high and well-earned reputation.

After this engagement, Sir Edward
proceeded to the 'West Indies in the
same ship, the Agamemnon, and parti-
cipated in the victory gained by Sir
Thomas Duckworth, on the 6th of Fe-
bruary, 1806, off St. Domingo. On his
return to England, he was presented
with two medals from his Majesty : one
for his services in Sir Thomas Duck-
worth's action, and the other for that of
Trafalgar ; and, having previously ob-
tained one for the victory of the Nile,
he was the only Captain in his Majesty's
service who had been honoured with
three medals. On the 12th of Decem-
ber, in the same year (1806), he was
elevated to the rank of Baronet.

In 1811, Sir Edward Berry was ap-
pointed to the Sceptre ; in 1813, he
commanded the Royal Sovereign Yacht ;
in 1814, he was honoured with the com-
mand of the new yacht, the Royal
George; and, in 1815, he was nominated
Knight Commander of the Order of the
Bath. He was afterwards promoted to
the rank, first of the Rear Admiral of
the White, and then of Rear Admiral
of the Red squadron of hia Majesty's
fleet.

1831.]

Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.

577

At the restoration of peace, in 1814,
Sir Edward Berry returned to Norfolk,
and fixed his residence at Catton, near
Norwich. After some years, he pro-
ceeded to Bath, for the benefit of his
health ; and, with the same view, he
subsequently made a continental tour,
and he and Lady Berry lived for some
time at Pisa, in Italy. Unfortunately,
the hopes of re-establishing his health
were not realized ; and he returned to
Bath, where he died on the 13th of Feb-
ruary last. Lady Berry survives her
husband, but without any family.

BENJAMIN CONSTANT.

Benjamin Constant, who has been a
distinguished litterateur in France for
thirty years or upwards, was born at
Geneva, in 1767- His parents were Pro-
testant ; his father, a General in the
Dutch service, had returned to his na-
tive country at the close of his military
career.

At the commencement of the revolu-
tion, voung Constant went to Paris. In
1796,The appeared at the bar of the Coun-
cil of Five Hundred, demanding admis-
sion to the rights of a French citizen, as
the descendant of French ancestors ex-
iled by the revocation of the edict of
Nantes. About the same time, he pub-
lished a little work, which attracted
much notice, " On the Strength of the
Existing Government (the Directory)
of France, and the Necessity of sup-
porting it." In the following year —
1797 — two productions of his pen ap-
peared : one, " On Political Reaction ;"
the other, " An Examination of the
Effects of Terror;" in the latter of
which he contended, that, in the course
of the Revolution, terror had caused
much mischief, without producing any
advantage.

In 1797 or 1798, M. Constant became
a member of the Club de Salm, or Con-
stitutional Circle ; in which he delivered
— and afterwards published — a long dis-
course against terror, arbitrary power,
and royalty, and enforced the necessity
of having republican elections. Another
of his publications at this period was
" On the Consequences of the Counter-
Revolution in England, in 1660."

On the formation of the Tribunate, he
became a member of that body, vehe-
mently attacking the communication be-
tween different powers in the state. —
" The object," he observed, " was to
dictate laws with such haste that no
time was allowed for examining them."
He supported the Conscription law, and
the law for abrogating the rights of pri-
mogeniture.

In 1801, M. Constant opposed the
establishment of a sinking, fund, and also
the civil code then under consideration.
Regarded as one of the chiefs of the op-

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 65.

position, he was comprehended in Buo-
naparte's first purification of the Assem-
bly ; consequently, in 1802, he ceased
to be a member of the Tribunate.

It was at the close of the year 1797,
that Madame de Stael first saw Buona-
parte, who was then at Paris preparing
for his expedition to Egypt. The ad-
miration with which she had regarded
him as the conqueror of Italy, was now
succeeded by a sentiment bordering
upon aversion ; and the dislike appears
to have been mutual. However, she
continued in Paris after the return of
Buonaparte from Egypt, on his assump-
tion of supreme authority ; and in her
coteries, and by her writings, she ex-
erted herself to the utmost in opposing
his views. M. Constant had been long
politically connected with Madame de
Stael. The consequence was, that, at
the same time with Madame, he was
ordered to quit Paris. The two exiles
went together, and travelled in company
over different countries.

When M. Constant separated from
Madame de Stael, he, with the permis-
sion of Buonaparte, returned to Paris.
There, however, his stay was short. He
went to Gottingen, where, for a length
of time, he employed himself in his
" History of the Different Modes of
Worship." It was, we believe, during
this retreat from public life, that he
also produced his " Walstein, a Tra-
gedy, in Five Acts, in Verse ; preceded
by Reflections on the German Theatre."

In 1814, M. Constant again returned
to Paris, in the train of the Prince Royal
of Sweden. At that time, he appeared
to be in the interest of the Bourbons.
Several times he wrote in their favour,
particularly on the disembarkation of
Buonaparte from Elba. He also attacked
the whole of the conduct of Buonaparte,
and exposed the folly of trusting to
promises of liberty from a man who for
so many years had made France groan
under the most cruel slavery. On these
principles he continued to write, even
when Buonaparte was within a few
leagues of Paris. On the 19th of March,
he inserted an article in the Journal des
Debats, with his signature, in which he
declared that he would never purchase
a dishonourable existence by bending
before such a man. Yet he did bend
before him. In fact, notwithstanding
all his occasionally apparent boldness,
firmness, and independence of spirit, M.
Constant was neither more nor less than
a trimmer in politics. On the 20th of
April, he received from Buonaparte the
title of Councillor of State ; he assisted
in drawing up the constitution presented
at the Champ de Mai, which he defended
and enforced in several of his publica-
tions and speeches ; and, immediately
before the second and final overthrow of

4 E

578

Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.

[MAY,

Buonaparte, his exclamation was — " Fo-
reigners look towards us, knowing that
the first general in the world marches at
our head : if they see us rallied around
him, they will think themselves already
defeated ; but, if we are divided, we pe-
rish."

But the usurper was crushed, and a
change of scene became once more neces-
sary for the safety of M. Constant. On
the restoration of Louis XVIII., he
went to live at Brussels ; thence he came
over to England ; and, in November,
1816, he returned to Paris. Subse-
quently he engaged in several periodical
works of the day; particularly in Le
Mercure, in which he wrote, though not
with great violence, in opposition to the
government. By advocating the cause
of the Liberals, he procured his election
in the Chamber of Deputies, in 1818.

M. Constant was one of the editors of
La Minerva, and, on all sides, allowed
to be one of the ablest political writers
of the age ; he was a fine German scho-
lar, and tended much to introduce and
promote a love of the literature and
philosophy of Germany into France.
Besides the works which have been in-
cidentally noticed in this sketch, he was
the author of the following, with many
others of minor note : — On the Spirit of
Conquest and Usurpation, as they' in-
fluence European Civilization ; — Reflec-
tions on Constitutions, the Distribution
of Powers, and Guarantees in a Consti-
tutional Monarchy ; — On the Interest
of Government respecting the Liberty
of Pamphlets and Journals ; — Observa-
tions on the Speech of the Minister of
the Interior on the Liberty of the Press;
— On the Responsibility of Ministers ; —
Political Principles applicable to Repre-
sentative Governments, and particularly
to the Existing Constitution of France ;
— Principles of Public Law ; — On the
Elections of 1807 and 1808; — Letters
on the Trial of Wilfred Regnault ;—
Letter on the Massacre of the Protest-
ants at Nismes ; — Letters on the Hun-
dred Days ; — several pamphlets on the
projected change in the Law of Elec-
tions ; — articles in the Universal Bio-
graphy ;— Adolphus, an Anecdote found
amongst the Papers of a Person Un-
known. The last-mentioned work is a
romance, founded on the system of fata-
lity.

M. Constant caught a severe cold
during the memorable three days of
1830, and continued in a declining state
till the period of his death, which occur-

red at Paris on the 8th of December.
His remains were interred on the 12th,
in the cemetery of Pere la Chaise. The
funeral was attended by the Chamber
of Deputies, and an immense portion of
the population of Paris, and is said to
have produced a sensation equal to that
occasioned by Mirabeau. His ashes,
report states, are shortly to be removed
to the Pantheon. If so, it will be an
exception to the general rule, that ten
years must elapse after the death of an
individual, to enable posterity to judge
of the validity of his claim to this high
national honour.

COMTE SAINTE SUZANNE.

Le Comte Sainte Suzanne, a peer of
France, and Lieutenant-General in the
Army, was born at Chalons-sur-Marne,
in 1760. At an early age, he was one
of the pages to Madame, sister-in-
law to Louis XVI. Having subse-
quently entered into the regiment of
Anjou, he held the rank of captain at
the commencement of the revolution ;
and he distinguished himself in the wars
of that period. In 1796, he was a gene-
ral of brigade in the armies of the
Moselle and Rhine, and took an active
part in the campaign, opposed to the
Archduke Charles. In some affairs with
General Kray, upon the Rhine, he ob-
tained considerable advantages over that
general; and occupying all the ap-
proaches to Ulm, he ultimately compelled
the enemy to retreat. Soon after-
wards he covered the left wing, and
secured the communications with Mo-
reau.

On the return of peace, General Su-
zanne went to Paris ; where he was
elected, successively, a member of the
council of state, and a member of the
senate. In 1809, he was appointed, to
the inspectorship of the army for the
protection of the coast of Boulogne.

On the 1st of April, 1814, this officer
voted against the ^continuance of Buo~
naparte on the throne of France ; and,
on the 4th of June following, Louis the
XVIIIth created him a peer, and named
him Chevalier of the Order of St. Louis.
Unlike many others, he did not exer-
cise his legislative functions after the
return of Buonaparte ; and, conse-
quently, he was not deprived of his
pension on the final restoration of the
Bourbons.

Comte Sainte Suzanne died at Paris,
on the 27th of August, the same day
that Comte Louis de Segur died.

1831.] [ 579 ]

MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.

IN our reports, the WEATHER is invariably the prime and most interesting topic.
The commencement of the present month, "on the whole, was highly favourable to
the operations of husbandry, with the drawback, however, that the suddenness of the
drought rendered the heavy wet lands stubborn and cloddy, thence difficult to
reduce to a state of friability and fineness adapted to the reception of the seed.
The few showers which succeeded, countervailed, in a considerable degree, this
defect, and culture has since proceeded with all possible dispatch. In our last,
under the influence of a long- cherished opinion in favour of early sowing, we
regretted that so much must, of necessity, remain to be done in the present month ;
but, from later accounts, and indeed personal observation, we apprehend that in
the most backward districts, the first week in May will scarcely exhibit the
conclusion of the present seed season. Throughout the whole winter and spring,
the weather has been most capricious and embarrassing to the farmer of heavy
lands. On prime soils, and in the most fertile districts, beans and peas are in a
growing state and look well ; oats above ground, and the barley all in, which is to
say, the whole present business is completed. On such lands, the next object is
preparation of the fallows for potatoes and turnips, for which, something like an
early season will for them be obtained ; on others of inferior description, chiefly in
the west and south-west, the whole will be a late and protracted seed season. In
Herts, and on the whole line of Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, and Lincolnshire, business
is in a comparatively forward state, and the appearance of the crops generally-
promising: the labourers also, in those fertile districts, are, at present, fully
employed at an advance of wages. Clover and other seeds have been greatly
reduced in price from the quantities imported, sainfoin excepted, which we do not
import. Little business is doing in hops, but their husbandry has commenced, the
trills are removed, and the roots appear strong and healthy. The stock of English
wheat is greatly reduced, even in the richest counties ; elsewhere, and westward,
there is so little in the farmers' hands, that they apprehend it will not last 'till
harvest ; in fact, those counties seem as much in need of foreign supply as the
metropolis, and the chief business of the canals and roads seems to be the transit of
foreign bread-corn. Barley is nearly exhausted, and the stock of malt in the hands
of the maltsters and brewers, is reported to be much reduced, perhaps more so than
at any late period. Oats, beans, and peas, compose almost the only farmers' stock.
Good old dry beans and spring tares sell readily, and though the wheat market
generally has, of late, suffered some reduction from the great quantities imported,
it has remained at nearly the former standard in those districts where it is so much
wanted. The heavy poor land wheats, particularly where sown after clover and
grasses, have been so devoured and thinned by the slugs, that they are not only
unseasonably late, but their appearance is so reduced and sickly, that at present
they exhibit very little promise of a crop.

In SCOTLAND, and in the best parts of our northern border, the spring business
is in seasonable forwardness. In the Lothians, the best wheat districts of Scotland,
that crop has experienced considerable failures. Sown after beans, the slug has
been so busy, that great breadths of wheat have been ploughed up, and the land
resown with oats. Upon fallow land the wheat is thickly planted, but has a
weak and unhealthy appearance, those soils manured with rape-cake affording the
best prospect. The young sown grasses have generally failed, which has occasioned
a rise of from twenty to thirty per cent, on the pasture grass, the quantity of stock
to be fed being very large. Turnips, and all winter provision, having been
exhausted some weeks since, most, or all, of the fat stock was driven to the
markets, when the present high prices afforded a satisfactory return. We hear of
little or no complaint of the rot in Scotland, where their ewes are said to have
stood the winter well, and to promise a successful lambing season. In WALES the
general report is favourable, both as to the dispatch of seed culture, and the
appearance of the crops ; but their lambing season has been most unfortunate from
the prevalence of the rot, which still continues its ravages in the west. It is
calculated that above one-third of the flocks in the infected districts, has been
annihilated bv this pest, to which must be added the malign influence remaining
with the survivors. The natural sequence has been, a great rise in the price of
mutton and of store sheep, the young ewes fetching as much at market as the

wedders, on the speculation of a recruit from increasing the number of breeding
flocks. In the letters from Kent, there is a noticeable silence on the extent of the
rot, periodical in that county, but we are informed it has prevailed to an alarming
degree both there and in Sussex. The price of wool, if not reduced, has been
rendered stationary by large importations from the continent ; however, the sheep
farmers having none on hand, are not, at present, materially interested in the state
of the market, which is expected to revive after the approaching sheep-shearing.
Good clean-washed long wool is yet in demand at the late prices in the western

4 E 2

580 Agricultural Report.

counties, but the defect in quantity renders the price profitless. All the great
spring fairs have been superabundantly supplied with both fat and store stock,
sheep excepted, and with little occasional variation ; the late high prices, more
especially lor store stock, have not only been maintained, but considerably
enhanced. Immense droves of pigs have arrived from Ireland, and profited by an
increase of price. Saddle and coach horses, fresh, and of good figure, have been
eagerly bought up. The shew of draught and farm horses has been large, and if
net so quick in sale as the former species, the flower of them has found a good
market. In the fruit districts they represent the trees as healthy and abundant in
blossom buds; but should the easterly winds continue, with their invariable
variations from chilling cold to spring warmth, the effect on buds and blossoms
will damp the pleasing hopes of the orchardist. Cheese is ready of sale, and good
prices supported.

The state of IRELAND is most dangerous and critical. The late examples of
savage ferocity in the lower people of that country are truly appalling. No living
man nas hitherto witnessed this country in a state of inquietude and agitation
equal to the present, which must be exacerbated in a tenfold degree, by the
dissolution of parliament. The complaints of farmers on the present state of
tenancy, and on the tithing system, are, in fact, universal. The sufferers from the
destruction of farming machinery, cry out loudly against the absurd and quibbling
anomaly, which shuts out the farmer from all recompense for his losses of precisely
similar nature and estimation with those of the manufacturer, whilst it admits the
latter to his full share. In Norfolk, a very fair and liberal plan has been adopted
by the farmers, of advancing the wages' of labour at the joint expense of the
employer, the landlord, and the tithe-owner. Mr. Horton's plan of emigration is,
by degrees, rising in the estimation of the country ; and the parish of Westbury,
in Wilts, has provided, and is about to embark 240 paupers as settlers in Canada.
Allowance of land to the distressed labourers to be cultivated by the spade
husbandry is on trial in Notts, and several of the northern counties, whilst the
grant of a rood of land, as garden ground, to the men with families is, with equal
regard to humanity and public benefit, becoming general.

Smithfield. — Beef, 3s. to 4s. 6d. — Mutton, 4s. to 5s. 2d Veal, 4s. to 5s. 8d.

—Pork, 4s. to 5s. 8d.— Lamb, 6s. to 7s. 8d.— Rough fat, 2s. 9d.

Corn Exchange. — Wheat, 65s. to 80s. — Barley, 30s. to 48s — Oats, 26s. to 35s. —
London 41b. loaf, 10£d — Hay, 55s. to 84s.— Clover ditto, 65s. to 105s.— Straw,
30s. to 42s.

Coal Exchange — Coals, 17s. 6d. to 30s. 6d. per chaldron.
Middlesex, April 22d.

MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.

SUGAH — The supplies of Muscavadoes (West India) were on the most confined
scale, and chiefly of old descriptions ; boards of good new sugars were immediately
taken at full market prices ; for refined goods the demand is steady and considerable
both for shipping and home trade ; the prices were a little varied except for the
double refined bounty ; the latter were Is. higher ; considerable quantities of crushed
were sold 31s. to 33s. for the middling, and 35s. and 36s. 6d. for the fine. Molasses dull
and lower : there is nothing new in the refined market ; the purchases for low lumps for
Hambro' are very extensive. Foreign sugars: considerable sales of Havannah sugar
has taken place ; white, 33s. to 34s. brown Bahia, 15s. to 19s. 6d. inferior white, 21s.
to 26s. brown and yellow Rios, 15s. to 22s. East India Mauritius went oft' heavily,
at a reduction of 6d. to Is. per cwt. ; average price of sugar £1. 15^s. per cwt.

COFFEE — Foreign coffee by private contract continued in extensive demand ;
Brazil sold, 41s. to 43s. ; pale St. Domingo, 40s. good new, 42s. ; Sumatra, 30s. 6d.
and 31s. 6d. ; Batavia, 36s. to 38s. There have been extensive inquiries for British
Plantation ; Jamaica has been rated low and neglected ; the business for home con-
sumption improves ; the finer descriptions of Berbice are 2s. to 4s. higher.

RUM, BRANDY, HOLLANDS. — The purchasers of Rum had been confined to but
inconsiderable parcels, but there has been since inquiries for export, and it is stated
there are large orders in town for shipping. There is no alteration in Brandy or
Geneva.

HEMP, FLAX, TALLOW — The Tallow market fell last week to 45s. for parcels
on the spot, and 39s. for arrivals ; there has been since more firmness. In Hemp and
Flax there is little alteration.

1830 1831

Stock of Tallow in London 21,808 41,658

Delivery Weekly 1,367 1,079

Price (Monday's) 34s. 3d. 45s. 3d.

Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 2. — Rotterdam, 11. 19 Ham-
burgh, 13. 11. Paris, 25.25 Bordeaux, 25. 55 — Frankfort, 151.0 Peters-

1831.]

Commercial Report.

581

burg, 10. 0.— Vienna, 10. 0.— Madrid, 37. 0.— Cadiz, 37. 0.— Bilboa, 37. OJ.— Bar-
celona, 37. OJ.— Seville, 3G. 0^.— Gibraltar, 47. 0|.— Leghorn, 47- Of.— Genoa,
25. CO.— Venice, 46. 0.— Malta, 46. 0.— Naples, 39. 0.— Palermo, 118. 0.— Lisbon,
46. Of.— Oporto, 46. Of.— Ilio Janeiro, 19. 0 — Bahia, 25. 0.— Dublin, 1. 0£.—
Cork, l.Oi.j

Bullion per Oz. — Portugal Gold in Coin, £0. Os. Od. — Foreign Gold in Bars,
£3. 17s. lOid.— New Doubloons, £0. Os. Od.— New DoUars, £0. 4s. 9|d.— Silver in
Bars (standard), £0. Os. Od.

Premiums on Shares and Canals, and Joint Stock Companies, at the Office of
WOLFE, Brothers, 23, Change Alley, Cornhill. — Birmingham CANAL, (£ sh.) 251 \l. —
Coventry, 795/. — Ellesmere and Chester, 72/. — Grand Junction, 246/ — Kennet and

Avon, 25*/ Leeds and Liverpool, 400/.-Oxford, 510/.— Regent's, 164/.— Trent and

Mersey, (| sh.) 630/ Warwick and Birmingham, 250/. — London DOCKS (Stock)

G2/.— West India (Stock), 125/.— East London WATER WORKS, 1144/.— Grand
Junction, 48£/ — West Middlesex, 70/.— Alliance British and Foreign INSURANCE,
7|^.— Globe, 135/.— Guardian, 24f J.— Hope Life, 5ff.— Imperial Fire, 96J.- GAS-
LIGHT Westminster Chartered Company, 52£/.— City, 191i.~- British, 3 dis—
Leeds, J95/.

ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BANKRUPTCIES,

Announced from March 23d to 23d April 1831, in the London Gazette.

BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED.

G. Mitchell, jun., Brighton, broker.
T. Heel, Gateshead Low Fell, Durham, draper.
J. Kidd, Hammersmith, baker.
J. and J. Farrar, Halifax and Bradford, common-
carriers.

BANKRUPTCIES.
[This Month 108.]

Solicitors'' Names are in Parentheses.
Adam, J., Rood-lane, ironmonger. (Fisher,

Walbrook,
Armstrong, J., Raskelf, miller. (Butterflelrt,

Gray's-inn.

Allwright, J., Strand and Wokingham, cheese-
monger. (Binns, Essex-street.
Beach, B., Hounslow, gardener. (Loveland,

Symond's-inn.
Burringtou, G., Stock Exchange, stock-broker.

(Walton and Co., Girdler's-hall.
Bensusan, T., Poland-street, merchant. (Abbott

Nicholas-lane.
Bywater, D., Clerkenwell, lime-merchant.

(Brooks, Strand.
Bond, Sons, and Pattisal, Change-alley, bankers.

(Hall and Co., Salter's-hall.

Bath, H. and H., Bishopsgate-street, cabinet-
makers. (Robinson and Co., Pancras-lane.
Barnett, J., Old Kent-road, navy-agent. (Bur-

goyne and Co., Oxford-street.
Birch, M., Oxford-street, pastry-cook. (Carlon,

High-street, Mary-le-bone.
Cooper, J. D., and C. C. Kelley, Woodeaves,

cotton-spinners. (Allan, Frederick's-place.
Cotton, G., Farnham, shoe-maker. (Bailey, Ely-
place.
Crookall, T., Manchester, inn-keeper. (Adling-

ton and Co., Bedford-row ; Chew, Manchester.
Chappell, A. S., Walbrook, plumber. (Maltby,

Broad-street.
Cronin, J., Old Bailey, stone-merchant. (Martin,

Red Lion-square.
Coutts, J., jun., Notting-hill, baker. (Johnson,

Chancery-lane.
Chalk, T. H., Barking, corn dealer. (Thomson,

George-street.
Clayton, M. and H., East Retford, drapers.

(Jaques and Co., Coleman-street.
Critchley, J., Ryeford, coal-merchant. (White,

Lincolu's-inn.
Danson, H. W., Bristol, merchant. (Meredith

and Co., Liucoln's-iim ; Osborne and Co.,

Bristol.

]>avy, J., Davenport, brewer. (Fail-bank, Sta-
ples'-inn ; Drake, Exeter.

Denman, E., City-road, jeweller. (Pullen and
Son, Foregate-street.

Drabble, W., Leman-street, pewterer. (Lang-
ham, Bartlett's-buildings.

Davis, J., Covent Garden, orange-merchant.
(Marland, Fleet-street.

Dandy, R., Great Diiffield, grocer. (Hawkins
and Co., New Boswell-court.

Emanuel,M , Birmingham, jeweller. (Adlington
and Co., Bedford-row ; Wills, Birmingham.

Fletcher, C. and A., Woodhead, Salford, brewers

- (Capes, Gray's-inn ; Kay and Co., Manchester.

Francis, E. H., Chelsea, schoolmaster. (Wrent-
more, Charles.

Finchley, N. S., brick-maker. (Wootton, Loth-
bury.

Graveson, G., Bradford, ironmonger. (Law-
rence, Old Fish-street ; Morris, Bradford.

Ginever, T., Arundel-street, tailor. (Stafford,
Buckingham-street.

Gunnell, R. G., and W. Shearman, Salisbury-
square, printers. (Bull, Ely-place.

Gerrish, W., Bristol, dealer. (Stevens and Co.,
Gray's-inn.

Goulden, W., sen., Leeds, tobacco -manufacturer.
(Batty and Co., Chancery-lane.

Hierons, W., Streatham, coach-master. (Stokes
and Co., Cateaton-street.

Hargan, H. F., John's-street, victualler. (Wil-
liams and Co., Lincoln's-inn- fields.

Halson, A., Bridgewater-square, merchant,
(feachy, Salisbury-square.

Haines, B., Chelsea,' grocer. (Passmore and Co.,
Sambrook-court.

Higgins, P., Scarborough, 'miller. (Timperley,
Manchester.

Hawkins, J., Bristol, grocer. (Blower, Lin-
coln's-inn fields ; Gregory and Co., Bristol.

Hall, J., and H. Gerrish, Bristol, grocers. (Ste-
vens and Co, Gray's-inn ; Perkins, Bristol.

Hubert, T., jun., Commercial-wharf, coal-mer-
chant. (Bousfield, Chatham-place.

Hanson, G., Swansea, baker. (Rowland, Princes-
street ; Jones, Swansea.

Harris T. B., Liecester, hosier. (Taylor, John-
street ; Lawton and Son, Leicester.

Howson, G., Winterton, malster. (Algar, Bed-
ford-row ; Maxted, Winterton.

Hewitt, J., jun., Nottingham, lace-manufacturer.
(Yallop, Basinghall-street ; Parsons and Co.,
Nottingham.

Jones, J. H., Gutter-lane, warehouseman. (Fisher,
Walbrook.

Kerbey, H., Tottenham-court-road, poulterer.
(Mayhew and Co., Carey-street.

582

List of Bankrupts.

[MAY,

Kirk, T. B., Lltchfield, chemist. (Austen and

Co., Gray's-inn.

L.»page, J. and F., Liverpool, merchants. (Ches-
ter, Staple's-inn ; Davenport, Liverpool.
Lea, J., jun., Worcester, butcher. (Becke, De-
vonshire-street.
Lynch, J., Hison-green, tailor. (Rosserand Son,

Gray's-iun.
Lambert, J., Brough, carpenter. (Thompson,

Staple-inn.'

Lloyd, E., Redditch, needle-manufacturer. (Por-
ter, King's-anns-yard.
Muir, G., Newcastle- upon-Tyne, draper. (Dtmn,

Gray's-inn ; Wilson, Newcastle.
Myers, M., Birmingham, auctioneer. (Norton

and Co., Gray's-inn ; Stubbs, Birmingham.
Murrell, T., Evesham, grocer. (Merry, Lincoln's-

inn-fields ; Birch, Evesham.
Mortet, W., Coleman-street, baker. (Gole,

Lothbury.
Moore, T., Allbrighton, butcher. (Heming and

Co., Lincoln's-inn-tields.
Mills, J., Clerkemvell-green, wine-merchant.

(Price and Co., St. John's-square.
Monk, C. and T., Frome, Selvvood, linen- drapers.

(Perkins and Co., Gray's-inn.
Marsden, T., Salford, machine-maker. (Rodgers,

Devonshire-square.
Nail, J., Manchester, dealer. (Milno and Co.,

Temple ; Wheeler, Manchester.
Novell, W., Clapham-road, carpenter. (Bousfield,

Chatham place.
Newton, W., Philpot-street, builder. (Dickinson

and Co., Gracechurch street.
Osborne, G., Colchester, corn-dealer. (Stevens

and Co., Little St. Thomas Apostle; Wittey,

Colchester.

Oldham, T., Manchester, calico-printer. (Milne
. and Co., Temple ; Walker and Co.,Manchester.
Platt, T., Brentford, coal-merchant. (Pocock,

Bartholomew-lane.
Pearson, E., York-street, furniture-broker.

(Smith, Colemnn-street.
Palmer, T. R., Cecil-street, wine-inerchant.

(Binns, Essex-street.
Pearse, J., Chumleigh, linen-draper, (Darko,

Red Lion-square ; Terrell and Son, Exeter.
Penner, T. E., Bristol, currier. (Boustield,

Chatham-place; Wiuterbotham and Co.,

Tewkesbury.

Philips, T., Swansea, grocer. (Jones, Crosby-
square ; Davies, Swansea.
Powell, R., Llangammai'ch, cattle-dealer. (Bick-

nell and Co., Lincoln's- iml ; Vaughau and Co.,

Brecon.
Pochin, H., Crosby, malster. (Austen and Co.,

Gray's-inn.
Radlcy.J.L., Oldham, dealer. (Brundrett and

Co., Temple.
Rideout, H., Woolwich, innkeeper. (Colquhoun,

Woolwich.
Routledge, J. J., New Bond-street, haberdasher.

(Wight, Percy-street.

Read , J. C., Leicester, tailor. (Toller, Gray's-
inn ; Toller, Leicester.

Smith, R., Blackman-street, victualler. (Harles-
tone, Horsleydown-lane.

Smith, G., and R. Foulerton, Gutter-lane, ware-
housemen. (Gregory, King's-arms-yard.

Saxby, T., Lougliborough, lace-manufacturer.
(Norris and Co., John-street.

Button, H., Newark, mercer. (Stephens and Co.,
Little Thomas Apostle ; Svveetenham and Co.,
Wirksworth.

Strutton, G., Mitre-court, tavern-keeper
(Fisher, Walbrook.

Sewell,W., Brewer-street, stable-keeper. (Howell,
Hatton-garden.

Southern, J., Manchester, wine-dealer. (Adling-
ton and Co., Bedford-row; Thorley, Man-
chester.

Strickland, E. B., Coventry, chymist. (Allan,
Old Jewry.

Shaw, T., Bishopsgate-street, grocer. (Ailing-
ham, Hatton-garden.

Sweetapple, J.D., Godalming,mealman. (Palmer
and Co., Bedford-row ; Potter, Guildford.

Shackles, J. G., Kingston-upon-Hull, linen-dra-
per. (Alderson, Chancery-lane : Johnson
Hull.

Smith, D., Okeover, and Smith, J., Liverpool.
(Barber, Fetter-lane ; Johnson and Co., Ash-
borne.

Tuberville, T., Worcester, grocer. (Poole and
Co., Gray's-inn ; Livetts, Bristol.

Tasker, C., Liverpool, builder. (Blackstock and
'Co., Temple ; Murrow, Liverpool.

Togwell, J ., Cheltenham, baker. (Jackson, New-
inn ; Walker, Upton -upon-Severn.

Tucker, C., Bartlett's-buildings, bronzist. (Syl-
vester and Co., Furnival's inn.

Webb, T., Whitechapel, typesmith. (Baddeley,
Leman-street.

Wilson, J., Canon-street, grocer. (Lofty, King-
street.

Warner, H., George-street, dealer. (Yates and
Co., Bury-street.

Wood, J., Grit's-green, Stafford, victualler.
(Clowes and Co., Temple ; Collis, Stourbridge.

Wood, S., York, clothier. (Battye and Co.,
Chancery-lane; Sykes, Huddersfield.

Walker, H., Lancaster, upholsterer. (Cuvelje,
Great Jamcs's-street ; Amitstead, Lancaster.

Weller,T. E., Cheltenham, bookseller. (Blower,
Lincoln's-inn-fields ; Pruen and Co., Chelten-
ham.

Willoughby, S. and B., Birmingham, brass-ring-
manufactnrers.

Welldon, E., Cambridge, butcher. (Flower,
Austin-friars.

Woolston, J., Kingston- upon-Hull, toy-seller.
(Milne and Co., Temple.

Wrangham, W., Louth, silversmith. (Box and
Co., Bedford-row.

Williams, J. and J., Houndsditch, coppersmiths.
(Owen and Co., Mincing-lane.

ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.

Rev. T. Loveday, to the Rectory of
East Irley, Berks — Rev. W. Marshall,
to the Rectory of Chickerell, Dorset. —
Rev. C. Wheeler, to the Perpetual Cu-
racy of Stratton Audley, Oxon Rev.

J. D. Coleridge, to the Vicarage of
Lewannick, Cornwall. — Rev. W. C.
Leach, to the Vicarage of Dilham, with
Honing, Norfolk — Rev. P. Blackiston,
to the Perpetual Curacy of Lymington.
Rev. F. Cobbold, to the Rectory of
Helmly, Suffolk.— Rev. R. Tomes, to
the Vicarage of Coughton, Warwick.—-
Rev. H. P. Jeston, to the Perpetual
Curacy of Cholesbury, Bucks.— Rev. A.

M'Donald, to the Vicarage of Cotter-
stock, with Glapthorn, Northampton

Rev. R. Williams, to the Vicarage of
Kidwelly._Rev. W. P. Williams, to the
Vicarage of Nantmellan — Rev. J. Brett,
to the Rectory of Woolferton, Norfolk.
— Rev. J. Bartholomew, to the Rectory
of Morchard Bishops, Devon. — Rev.
W. Uvedale, to the Vicarage of Stixwold,
near Horn castle. — Rev. J. Flock ton,
to the Vicarage of Sherbourne, Norfolk.
—Rev. H. P. Willoughby, to be Chap-
lain to Lord Holland. — Rev. T. O.
Foley, to the Vicarage of Llansadwin,
Carmarthen. — Rev. J. Fisher, jun., to

1831.]

Ecclesiastical Preferments — Chronology.

583

the Rectory of Stoney Stanton, Leices-
ter— Rev. W. Pullen, to the Rectory of
Gilding, Parva, Huntingdon. — Rev.C. J.
C. Bulteel, to the Rectory of Holbeton,
Devon — Rev. R. J. C. Alderson, to the
Rectory of St. Mathew's, Ipswich. —
Rev. H. Matthie, to the Rectory of
Worthenbury, Flint.— Rev. H. Burton,
to the Vicarage of Atcham, Salop —
Rev. H. D. C. S. Horlock, to the Vi-
carage of Bot. — Rev. Dr. Stedman, to
be Minister of Margaret's Chapel, Bath.
—Rev. G. L. W. Fauquier, to the Rec-

tory of Bradfield, Suffolk. — Rev. A.
Roberts, to the Rectory of Woodrising,
Norfolk.— Rev. T. B. Murray, to be
Chaplain to Earl Rothes — Rev. F. J.
Courtenay, to the Rectory of North
Bovey, Devon. — Rev. N. T. Ellison, to
the Rectory of Nettlecombe, . Oxford.—
Rev. W. B. L. Hawkins, to be Chap-
lain to the Duke of Sussex. — Rev. J.
Randall, to the Rectory of Binfield,
Berks. — Rev. J. H. Harrison, to the
Perpetual Curacy of Walter Orton,
Warwick.

CHRONOLOGY, MARRIAGES, DEATHS, ETC.

CHRONOLOGY.

March 29.— Exeter Hall in the Strand,
opened for the accommodation of reli-
gious, benevolent, and scientific socie-
ties, and institutions.

April 4. — Sir H. Parnell appointed to
be Secretary at War.

5. — By the abstract of the net pro-
duce of the revenue of Great Britain,
it appears that there was a decrease of
£1,«29,372 from the year preceding,
(1830), and of £740,309 from the cor-
responding quarter of the same year.

— . The Lord Mayor entertained a
considerable number of the ministers,
and other distinguished guests, at the
Mansion House.

7- — Sessions commenced at the Old
Bailey.

14. — Sessions ended at the Old
Bailey, when 18 prisoners were sen-
tenced to death, and 71 for transporta-
tion.

15. — House of Commons voted
£100,000 to be secured to the Queen,
if she should survive his Majesty, toge-
ther with Marlborough House, and the
house and lands of Bushy Park.

22 — His Majesty prorogued the
parliament, delivering the following
speech : —

" My Lords and Gentlemen, — I have
come to meet you for the purpose of pro-
roguing this parliament, with a view to
its immediate dissolution. I have been
induced to resort to this measure, for
the purpose of ascertaining the sense of
my people, in the only way in which it
can be most conveniently and authen-
tically expressed, for the express pur-
pose of making such changes in the
representation, as circumstances may
appear to require, and which, founded
upon the acknowledged principles of the
constitution, may tend at once to up-
hold the just rights and prerogatives of
the crown, and give security to the
liberties of the people.

" Gentlemen of the House of Commons.
— I thank you for the provision you
have made for the maintenance of the
honour and dignity of the crown, and I

offer my special acknowledgments for
the arrangement you have made for the
state and comfort of my royal consort.
I have also to thank you for the sup-
plies you have furnished for the public
service. I have observed with satisfac-
tion, your endeavours to introduce a
strict economy into every branch of that
service, and I trust that the early at-
tention of a new parliament, which I
shall forthwith direct to be called, will be
applied to the prosecution of that im-
portant subject.

" My Lords and Gentlemen, — I am
happy to inform you, that the friendly
intercourse which exists between myself
and foreign powers, affords the best
hopes of a continuation of peace, to the
preservation of which my most anxious
endeavours shall be continually di-
rected.

" My Lords and Gentlemen, — In resolv-
ing to recur to the sense of my people
in the present circumstances of the coun-
try, I have been influenced only by a
desire, and personal anxiety, for the
contentment and happiness of my sub-
jects, to promote which, I rely with
confidence on your continued and zea-
lous assistance." His Majesty then
turned round to the Lord Chancellor,
and said — " My pleasure is, that this
parliament shall be prorogued, and
forthwith, to Tuesday the 10th of May
next."

23. — Proclamation issued for dis-
solving the present parliament, and de-
claring the calling of another ; the writs
to be returnable on Tuesday, June 14th
next.

HOME MARRIAGES.

Fox Maule, Esq., to Montague, eldest
daughter of Lord Abercromby. — Earl of
Harrington to Miss Foote. — Rev. T.
H. Causton to Hon F. H. Powys, fifth
daughter of Lord Lilford — W. Mil-
house, Esq., to Sophia, second daughter
of the late Sir Richard Capel de Brooke,
Bart. — Baron de Cetto, the Bavarian
Minister, to Elizabeth Catherine Bur-

584

Marriages — Deaths — Provincial Occurrences.

[MAY,

rowes, "grand-daughter to late Arch-
bishop of Tuam. — W. M. Proed, Esq.
to Miss Hays.— llev. C. D. Hill to
Cicely, youngest daughter of the late
Sir C. Willougbby, Bart.— G. Drum-
mond, Esq., to Marianne, sister to E. B.

Portman,Esq.,M. P E. E. H. Repton,

Esq., to Mary Henrietta, third daughter
of J. Brent, Esq.— Rev. W. N. Gresley,
to Miss Georgin Ann Reid. — Captain
Jelf, son of Sir J. Jelf, to Miss Sharp,
grand-daughter of the late Sir Lionell
Darell, Bart.— Sir R. A. O'Donel, Bart.,
to Mary, third daughter of G. Clendin-
ing, Esq.— J. Gordon, Esq., to Mrs. R.

HOME~DEATHS.

At Coventry House, the Earl of Co-
ventry. — Drowned, on board the steam-
packet Frolic, Lieut. Col. W. Gordon,
second dragoon guards. — Mrs. M. K.
Abercromby, daughter of the late General
Abercromby. — Patience Anne, wife of
Hon. and Rev. P. A. Irby, and daughter
of Sir W. de Crespigny, Bart.— Sir
Manasseh Masseh Lopes, Bart. 76. — At
Mulgrave Castle, Earl of Mulgrave,
77- — John Quick, Esq. the celebrated
comedian, 83. — Rev, Basil Wood, 71 —

Sir'T. Most}m, Bart. M. P. late for
Flink. — Hon. Frances Caulfield, widow
of St. G. Culfield.— Sir H. Hawley,
Bart.— Lady Charlotte Ludlow, 'sister to
Earl Ludlow. — Mrs. Strahan.— Jane,
Countess Dowager of Carhampton. —
Dorothy, relict of the late Dr. Watson,
Bishop of Landaff.- — Matilda, Countess de
Clairville.— Mrs.Duppa, 87-— M . Wyatt,
Esq., magistrate at the Lambeth Street
Office.— Walter Burrell, Esq., M.P.
Sussex. — Mrs. Gen. Mitchell, daughter
of Hon. Mrs. Fane.— General Sir W.
P. Galwey, Bart.— E. Dance, Esq.
Deputy Commissary General, and late
head of the department at Gibraltar.

MARRIAGES ABROAD.

At Cape of Good Hope, T. Nightingale,
Esq., second son of Sir Charles Nightin-
gale, Bart, to Miss H. Elizabeth Parry.
— At Agra, J. H. Low, Esq., grandson
to Viscount Boyne, to Emily, fourth
daughter of H. Revell, Esq. — In France,
E. Tumour, Esq., son of Hon and Rev.
E. J. Tumour, to Miss E. M. Crease.

DEATHS^BROAD.

In Italy, suddenly, a son of Louis
Bonaparte.

MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES.

GLOUCESTERSHIRE. — At the
conclusion of their labours, the Grand
Jury, at Gloucester assizes, delivered
a presentment to Mr. Justice Patte-
son, stating their opinion, that a great
many of the offences which had come
before them, had arisen from the num-
ber of beer-shops which had been
opened in the country, under the late
act of parliament, and which they had
no doubt tended very much to the in-
crease of crime, from the facilities they
afforded to idle and ill-disposed persons
to meet together ; and they trusted his
lordship would make such a represen-
tation in the proper quarter as would
lead to some regulation being adopted
with" respect to them. The learned
judge said, he had come to the same
conclusion, from what he had seen on
the special commission, and he Avould
take care that their presentment should
be laid before his majesty's government.
Forty prisoners were recorded for death >
about 20 were transported, and 56 were
ordered to be imprisoned for various
periods in the county jail !

YORKSHIRE.— At these assizes, 47
prisoners were recorded for death ; 6
were transported, and 13 imprisoned.

SOMERSETSHIRE. _ The grand
jury at the assizes for this county, made
a presentment, in which they stated, in

their judgment, that a great part of the
immense mass of crime which swells the
present calendar, is to be attributed to
the increase of intoxication produced
among the lower orders, by frequenting
the beer houses which have been opened
under the last act of parliament. A
letter was received upon the same sub-
ject, in the course of that day, from
Lord Melbourne, stating that represen-
tations to the same effect, had reached
him from every part, of the country,
and requesting the sheriff to collect the
sense of the magistrates upon the sub-
ject.— Taunton Courier.

Fifty -five prisoners were recorded for
death ; 26 were transported, and 47
were imprisoned for various periods.

LANCASHIRE.— By the church-
wardens' accounts for the parish of Liver-
pool, no less a sum than £46,247. lls. lid.,
was expended in that parish, from
March 25th, 1830, to March 25th, 1831.

The Manchester and Salford Savings
Bank, last report, states, that the sum
of £276,435. 11s. 7id., had been received
since its establishment — 7402 being
the total number of accounts.

WARWICKSHRE.— Judgment of

death was recorded against 48 prisoners
at Warwick assizes, but sentence ol
death was not passed against any.

THE

MONTHLY MAGAZINE

OP
POLITICS, LITERATURE, AND THE BELLES LETTRES.

VOL. XL] JUNE, 1831. [No. 66.

THE STATE OF EUROPE.

THE great powers are not yet^ plunged into a general war; the
kingdoms of the continent are not yet turned into republics, and the
British Empire is not yet revolutionized ; but the time for all will come.
At this moment Europe presents the most singular anomaly ; all safe on
the surface, and all notoriously hollow below it ; the standing armies of
the continent augmented and augmenting ; horse, foot, and dragoons, the
universal produce, yet every cabinet protesting its most profound reliance
on peace ; discontent in every nation, and dread on every throne, yet
all professing the utmost complacency ; and the spirit of overthrow
sharpening and strengthening by circles of longitude and latitude, yet
no explosion, or none which has not been speedily extinguished by a few
gensdarmes, or the march of a troop of Austrian hussars.

The changes of France, Belgium, and Poland are of a higher character,
and already belong to history.

The Poles have certainly made a most extraordinary and most honour-
able campaign. To have even dared to think of rising against Russia
was a conception of heroism. Europe was already either trembling at
the colossal power of Russia, or preparing to summon its whole strength
to resist it. The remotest corner of the continent, a year ago, would have
dreaded to hear that a Russian army was on its march, let its direction
be where it would; while Poland, a broken state, depressed in its
resources, with all its public employments in Russian hands, with Russian
armies equal to the invasion of Europe, on its borders, with Russian
troops and governors in its bosom, had the gallantry to rise, defy the
danger, in which every eye must have contemplated utter ruin, and face
the incalculable military force of the oppressor on his own frontier. It
did more ; with every bond of its administration cast loose, it formed a
government, reconciled parties, and wisely and vigorously conducting its
energies in a period when we might have expected nothing but treachery,
timidity, inexperience, and confusion, presented to Russia a popular
force equal to contest with its most distinguished generals and its most
victorious and disciplined troops in the field. It is impossible to confound
those noble efforts with the frenzy and riot of revolution. Poland has
exhibited none of the features which have characterized the triumphs of
democracy from the beginning of the world. It has confiscated no pro-
perty of the helpless and unoffending, it has driven none of its people

M.M. New Series— -VoL.XI. No. 66. 4 F

586 The State of Europe. [JUNE,

into exile ; it has filled no dungeons, it has erected no scaffolds. It has
summoned the strength of the country to rise in a generous attempt; and
if ever oppression and treachery justified such a rising, it was then, against
a power which had no right of possession but the sword, and no hold on
allegiance but the chain.

Poland has succeeded miraculously ; for, three months ago, when it
was announced that the Russian armies were marching upon Warsaw,
the cause was universally declared to be lost ; military men declared on
all hands, that the first conflict must shatter the Polish levies to pieces ;
and politicians looked for no hope of saving the people from massacre,
but in the immediate submission and final servitude of the country. Yet
the ruin which was to have swept Poland from the list of nations in
December, has not yet fallen in June.

The struggle is still sustained, and if some of her detached armies
have been driven off the field by the force of an empire which boasts of
half a million of men under arms, the main body still continues entire,
the government is unshaken, the capital is unattacked, and the spirit
of the country is as resolute as ever.

But the Poles have wisely not been insensible to the aspect which
their contest must assume in the eyes of foreign states. They have sent
deputies to the principal powers, and have seconded their representa-
tions by natural and manly addresses. In an appeal to Europe by the
Secretary of State at Warsaw ; after declaring that the capital and the
whole right bank of the Vistula had been cleared from the enemy, he
claims the recognition of the rights of Poland, in language full of the
eloquence of reason. (t If," he says, " Belgium, which never ranked
among states, — if Greece, whose political existence has been annihilated
for ages, — have obtained, among all the uncertainty of war, the recogni-
tion of their independence, I ask if Poland have not stronger grounds for
her pretensions, — that Poland, whose national existence, extinguished for
a moment, revives with so much vigour, sustains itself with so much
energy, and at the price of so many sacrifices, — that Poland, which, alone
and without aid., has dared to combat with the Giant of the North, and
has already overthrown the illusion of his power." The argument has
received a noble confirmation from the swords of the people. One of
the comments upon this is equal to the original. " If," says the Polish
Statesman, " it may be urged in the forceful language of the secretary,
in opposition to this, that Russia, that power so redoubtable to all Eu-
rope, can, even after a desperate contest, reduce us to submission, and
pacify, by exterminating us ; the peace of slavery — the peace of the
tomb—a peace of such a nature as to excite a terrible war on the first
favourable opportunity — can such a peace meet the noble and dignified
intentions of the European "Powers ?"

It can never be the policy of England, nor of any wise and honest
nation, to interfere in every petty quarrel of foreigners. But if ever
there was a ground for intervention, it is here. We see a nation of brave
men, rising against a sullen slavery, and defying it with a vigour in the
field, utterly disproportioned to its resources, and matched by nothing
but its determination to be free from the unrighteous yoke of a barbarian
oppressor. On this sight it is impossible for any being who has a heart
in his bosom to look without the strongest sympathy. Hitherto this
sympathy has been inert ; it has limited itself to words, and neither the
remonstrances of England nor the menaces of France will check Russia

1831.] The State of Europe. 587

in its devastation. But the cause of patriotism should do all things but
despair. The history of all the great trials of national patriotism has
teemed with extraordinary changes, and in the moment when the
strength of man seems air, and the hope of valour and fidelity seems
undone, the arm of a mightier than man interposes, and vindicates the
justice of heaven.

Belgium still exhibits the disasters of an unsettled administration ; and
nothing could be easier than to point out the blunders, and detail the
miseries which the Belgian insurrection has brought upon the people of
Brussels. But let the truth be told : the Belgians have accomplished
their chief object, and we must learn our principles of justice in some
new school, before we question its justice. They hated the government
of a Dutchman. They were given over to it by the allies in the moment
of irresistible victory. We have never been told that the will of the
nation was consulted in the transfer. If it were, the secret has escaped
Europe. The Belgians, whether injured in their actual interests, or
offended in their feelings, or simply uneasy under a foreign government
which they had not chosen for themselves, threw off the yoke. What
man will decide that a Dutchman could be the only legitimate sovereign
of Flemings ? We must, at least, hear his reasons, before we can acknow-
ledge their validity.

In the mean time Belgium is consolidating. Trade is returning to the
towns : agriculture is prospering in the country. The luxuriance of a
soil, which has endured more of the havoc of war, than all Europe be-
sides ; and yet has always overpowered its traces almost at the moment,
by the extraordinary fertility of the land, and the matchless industry of
the people, is already working its effects ; and unless a most unhappy
concurrence of misfortunes shall make Belgium a prize to be contested
for by France, Prussia, and Holland, another year will see it, as it has
been for many an age, the most flourishing portion of Europe. In Italy
and its insurrections all has been failure. There was no plan, no sum-
mons to the dead spirit of the peninsula. A figure of Italian freedom
was dressed up, but it was not in the means of those who displayed it,
to breathe life into its nostrils. Insurrection was paraded from city
to city with a ragged band of poissardes and profligates dancing round
its car. It was punchinello in arms ; the first Austrian drum put the
whole political shew to flight, their shewmen were put into irons, and
their insurrection hung in effigy. No Italian Revolution will ever be
decisive, without the aid of a foreign force. Italy is priest-ridden, and
therefore immoral, indolent, and nerveless. The limbs steeped in idle-
ness will never bear the weight of armour. The mind clouded by super-
stition can never discover those principles of liberty which, like the sun,
are always in existence, and always ready to pour life and brightness
on nations, when the cloud is taken away. The only hope for the Italian
is in some great shock which shall break open the walls of the dungeon
built by his own hands, some sweeping invasion which shall first over-
whelm his oppressors, and then, by the example and necessity of the time,
rouse him to moral courage. It is in no contempt of a people who once
led the way in all that was great in arts and arms, and to whom Europe
has been twice indebted for its civilization, that we say, the cause of
Italy is hopeless, but in some general and mighty change of Europe ;
some new and vast subversion of the old habits and policy of the conti-
nent, some moral deluge which, after utterly sweeping away and punish-

4 F 2

588 The State of Europe. [JUNE,

ing the guilt and superstition of the past, may retire, leaving the soil
impregnated for a new race of opinions, habits, and knowledge, a revived
creation.

In Portugal an act of manly policy has distinguished the British
government. Disclaiming all desire to see England interfering in the
private quarrels of foreigners, and esteeming the rights of Don Miguel
and Don Pedro as equally beneath the public concern, it is a matter of
high policy that the name of Englishman should be held as a protection
wherever it is heard, against the caprice, extortion, or violence of foreign
kings. The seizure of English merchants, and still more, the insults to
the persons of English subjects, demanded the direct interference of our
government. Cromwell raised his name highest among sovereigns by
this wise and unhesitating protection of the Englishman in all parts of
the globe. Against the justice due to his people, under whatever capa-
city, he suffered no consideration, however grave, to interfere. In Lon-
don, Don Pantaleon de Saa, the Portuguese ambassador's brother, had,
in some personal irritation, drawn his sword and slew a man in the
street. This would have been nothing in Portugal. So, the murderer
turned on his heel, and walked to the ambassador's house, where he
would have been safe in any other country of Europe. Cromwell
instantly demanded him. The ambassador pleaded his privilege,
threatened Cromwell with the vengeance of his government, and refused
to give him up. A troop of soldiers were sent, who dragged the cri-
minal from the ambassador's house. He was found guilty, and in scorn
of all remonstrances from the foreigner, was hanged in front of the
Exchange, amid the acclamations of the people. From this time forth
there were no more stabbings by Dons in London.

This was the great sovereign who declared that {f he knew no ambas-
sador like a man of war ;" and who would have sent the whole navy of
England, at an hour's notice, to batter the King of Portugal's palace
about his ears fcr an injury to one of his nation. Whatever may be
our general opinions of the Whig government, we give them full credit
for following the maxim of the Protector. With the faithlessness of
foreigners, who can get absolution for every lie, diplomacy is but the
art of delay and deception. The only point worth ascertaining is the
extent of material injury, and the only diplomatist who wastes no time,
and can be neither tricked nor sent back with his errand, is a seventy-
four. The man of war is the true ambassador of England.

Don Miguel, by the mission of no formal embassy, sent to write inter-
minable despatches, and demand interviews, and exhibit its laced uniforms
at levees and balls, but of a simple consul, seconded by the simple
presence of a squadron of the line, has been compelled to do what
justice would have done at once — to make a full apology for the inso-
lence, to release the property seized by him, to dismiss the tools which
he employed in those insolences, and to make atonement to the English
individuals in whose instance he had dared to offend the majesty of the
empire.

Spain is still lethargic, or giving signs of life only in the occasional
struggles of some partizan, too rude to be reckoned among political
instruments, and too feeble to work any public change. The priesthood,
the most sullen, stern, and imperious of all that bear the impress of
popery, are still masters of the land ; the nobility are cyphers, the army
is a nonentity, the scholars are monks, and the banditti seem to be the
only representatives of the national vigour.

1831.] The State of Europe. 589

France is what she was in the last days of Louis the Fifteenth ; gay,
poor and restless ; dancing at fetes clu Roi, and dreaming at once of
universal monarchy, and of universal revolution ; of realizing the vision
of matchless power which the wizard Napoleon summoned from the
grave of the Republic, and of enjoying the full feast of democracy,
without its drunkenness, riot and blood.

The popularity of Louis-Philippe, and the new moderation of his
ministry, have hitherto kept down this passion for change, but the cha-
racter of a people is not within the hands of kings or ministers. France
loves the prizes of war, and disregards their terrible purchase. A few
years of peace will cover over the ruins left by the Revolution, and
then will revive the old national desire of aggrandizement. With the
finest soil, the most numerous population, and the most fortunate and
central position in Europe, France will covet some barren fragment of
Germany, some desert rock in the Mediterranean, or some nest of pesti-
lence in the West Indies ; and for this glory she will waste more trea-
sure than would have covered her territory with canals, and more lives
than would have turned every barren league from the Rhine to the
Pyrenees into a garden.

The partizans of the exiled government occasionally murmur. A few
old priests in the provinces, cankered with prejudice, or embittered by
finding that sectarian violence and kingly persecution are no longer the
law of France, exhibit a ridiculous opposition to the government, and
vaunt the virtues of the Bourbons. But the day of the Bourbon dynasty
is over. They exhibited none of the qualities essential to government.
They might have been suffered in the dark ages, when the monk was
the monarch, and the monarch the monk ; when the people were beasts
of burthen, and the man who wore the diadem was occasionally the
demon, and occasionally the god. But the race was burned out. The
mild virtues of Louis the Sixteenth were caricatured by the sensual
impotence of his successor, as the haughty tyranny of Louis the Four-
teenth was burlesqued by the shallow and capricious violence of Charles
the Tenth. But their history has closed. The famous " ordonnances"
were an insult which no nation could endure, and hope to be accounted
among the brave, the rational, or the free. The audacity of the three-
fold declaration, that the liberty of the press was abolished, that the
parliament was at an end, and that the rights and privileges of the
electors were to be revised by the will of the minister, was even less an
injury than a challenge — less a violation of the charter than a summons
to every man in France to pvotest against arbitrary power, and by his
resistance vindicate the general character of human nature. The claim
of the Bourbons is buried in a grave from which there is no resur-
rection.

We come now to a topic of the highest interest to ourselves, and by
implication, to the world — the state of England. The great party which
had so long controlled the councils of England is utterly overthrown.
For the first time during a hundred years, Whiggism is completely trium-
phant, and Toryism is utterly defeated. The offices of government have
been stormed, and all public power is in the hands of Whiggism. But
it' has achieved the more formidable victory over the nation — all po-
pular power is in its hands, and for the first time since the Hanover
succession, the leader of the mob and the leader of the ministry are
the same. The deliberations of the Crown and Anchor are now but the

590 The State of Europe. [JUNE,

echoes of the deliberations in Downlng-street, and the ancient extra-
vagance of Palace-yard finds itself embodied in the Reform Bill of the
Cabinet.

We are still sceptical (and it is from honour to the Minister's under-
standing and habits) as to his sincerity in offering that Bill to the nation.
It has hitherto been held up only as the promise, the extorted promise,
of party. The parliamentary demand of modification in one of its most
essential principles was acceded to with even more than diplomatic cour-
tesy, and yet the facility of Lord John Russell was not put on but by per-
mission. We may look for other modifications to render it palatable, not
merely to the Commons, but to the Peers ; the Minister's order may make
not the least of his considerations, and it may be his policy to place the
Bill, like ^Esop's husband of two wives, between the ancient peerage, who
will pluck out all the obnoxious black hairs, and the young radicalism
which will pluck out all the white, until it finally comes before the world
stripped of all source of contention, and in all the baldness of a measure
disclaimed and abandoned alike by all. But in this object, even his
knowledge of the absurdity of parties may, for once, be deceived ; his
new House of Commons may be restive ; it may refuse to be whipped at
one time and curbed at another, even by so skilful a charioteer. If it
resist, he is undone.

But in all this nothing can be more amusing (we may have another
name in store for it) than the change of opinion in public men (and for
this too we may have another name). First, we have the Field-marshal
deploring his own measure, actually ratting from himself, and declaiming
with penitential tears, the true penitence of a prostrate Minister, on his
regret for the " Atrocious measure of 1829." " He finds that it has not
produced the consequences which he had expected from it," and the hint
is, of course, to be taken, that if he were carried on the shoulders of
reviving Toryism into office again, he would work miracles, pacify
Ireland, muzzle O'Connell, and purify England into the love of his
cabinet; but his Grace only wastes his eloquence. In the worst ex-
tremity, Toryism will not try him again. Like his own sentence on Peel,
a sentence pregnant with the supreme gall of overweening pride, " That
gentleman has put an end to his political existence/' The field-marshal
has branded exclusion upon his own brow, and to power he must bid
farewell for ever.

But is it not incomparable to hear the subordinate himself performing
magnanimity, and, within the month, getting by heart the following sen-
timent.— " To use the words of Mr. Fox, I should consider myself as ' a
traitor to my king, a traitor to my country, a traitor to my own consci-
ence,' if I did not prefer the maintenance of the constitution to a weak
subserviency to popular opinion, and if I did not protect the real interests
and privileges of the people against attempts to call that popular excite-
ment into exercise, the very vehemence of which is one of my arguments
against the present measure."

And this from Sir R. Peel, Catholic-question-Peel. Shade of Demo-
critus, wrhere do you sleep !

But, to come to another penitent. Every man who has looked over
the history of the prosecutions of opinion during the late Ministry, must
be familiar with the memory of Sir James Scarlett. Yet within the
month, on Mr. Cal craft's saying of statements contained in the Times,
" If they were libels so scandalous that it was impossible to pass them

1831.] The State of Europe. 591

over in silence, the Attorney-General was the proper person to take
the matter in hand and prosecute them (cries of 'no, no/ from the
opposition benches)." Who cried No, no ? Was it Sir James Scarlett ?
Could it be the independent member for ." fortunate Maldon/' who now
declares " he has nothing to gain, and nothing to suffer, by the opinions
he delivers, and neither expects to lose or to retain his seat by the vote
he should give ?" But what is so graceful as a repentant sinner ?

Mr. Calcraft himself, who had the honour of deciding the second
reading by his vote, and who has thenceforth obtained the happy cogno-
men of number one; exhibited the same striking and instant illumination
of the darkness of many a long and not unsalaried year. So late as the
4th of March, his dislike, nay his horror, of the Bill was of the most
irreconcilable nature. Like Sir R. Peel on the Catholic Bill, for fifteen
sturdy years, " his abhorrence of the measure, was founded on principle!
not on the fluctuations of party, not on the accident of time or person,
not on any thing that ever had changed, or ever could, but on the essence
of the thing." In short, he was Blifil all over, without his perpetual
smile.

But let this man of stubborn virtue speak for himself, — " The gentle-
men/' said he, on the 4th of March, " on the opposite side (the ministry)
if indulged to the extent of their wishes (as manifested in this bill), satis-
fied I am that they would not long have a king or house of lords, to
participate in the government of the country. If I were asked how the
institutions of the county would work under the new constitution — for
such it was — I should reply, ( A great deal worse than before.' — If this
bill passed, the mischief would be irremediable : it would overturn the
constitution, and throw a preponderating power into this estate, fatal to
the two others. — I am not willing to admit, that such was the overwhelm-
ing influence of public opinion, that the house must be the slave of it.
If we passed this measure, we could not stop here : in a short time,
further alterations would be required and conceded. — The moment we
admitted 500,000 new voters, the greater proportion voting as house-
holders, the argument for the ballot would become unanswerable. — I
solemnly declared my opinion, that this measure must, in the end, con-
vert this monarchy into a republic j and the trifling difference that exists
between my noble friend opposite and myself, is this; — that I am for
reform, and the noble lord for revolution."

Yet on the second reading, this magnanimous and far-seeing senator,
votes for — " the bill, the whole bill, and nothing but the bill." We
leave him to his reflections on the spirit of the transaction. But the same
faculty of sudden discovery develops itself through all the organs of
party. The journal which has the merit of being foremost in the battle
of Whiggism, scarcely more months ago, than the minutes which purified
Mr. Calcraft' s brains, thus sketched the pretensions of the party to
governing the empire, — " As to the Whigs, we plainly, and in the face
of the people of England, deny that the country looks to them as its
saviours in any great emergency — the experience of nearly fifty years
has proved the real character of this party — at once haughty and pusil-
lanimous— rash and short-sighted — noisy democrats when out of place,
insolent aristocrats when in — ignorant of the noble qualities of their own
countrymen, and timid depreciators of their glory, while they are ever
vehement, and ready to applaud and magnify the successes of foreigners.

592 The State of Europe. [JUNE,

Such are the men whom, we are told, England is to regard with vene-
ration and affection !"

But Sir R. Peel, our supreme favourite, as the purest model of the
" March of Mind," in these slippery times, has at length, not merely
reduced his creed to practice, but disclosed his principles, the much
severer effort. The speech was made within the month, and in a posi-
tion, chosen with all the habitual dexterity of that grave personage ; no
hustings, where he might have found some contemptuous contradiction, no
public meeting, where he might have been asked some questions that defied
even his powers of face. But on his own ground, at Tamworth ; among
his own tenantry and electors, where every hostile visage was weeded
out by the dinner-cards of his own butler ; where every conscience was
convinced, by the contents of his own cellar, and every faculty of dis-
cussion tied up by the sense of gratitude for a table, covered with the
indigenous produce of his own farm. There, in the midst of irrefraga-
ble claret, and irresistible venison, the baronet delivered the faith by
which he is to be guided for all time to come ; and which, we hope, for
the sake of persevering principle, may reach the ears of the powers that
be. He avowed — but what words can tell it like his own ? — " He had
never been the decided supporter of any band of political partisans ; but
had always thought it much better to look steadily at the political cir-
cumstances of the times in which they lived, and if necessities were so
pressing as to demand it, there was no dishonour or discredit in relin-
quishing opinions or measures, and adopting others more suited to the
altered circumstances of the country. For this course of proceeding he
had been censured by opposite parties — by those who, upon all occa-
sions, thought no changes were required, as well as by those who, in his
opinion, were the advocates of too violent and sudden innovations.
That middle 'course, however, he would continue to pursue. (Cheers.)
He held it to be impossible for any statesman to adopt one Jixed line of
policy under all circumstances ; and the only question with him, when he
departed from that line, should be — < Am I actuated by any interested
or sinister motive, or do I consider the measures I contemplate called
for by the circumstances and necessities of the country ?' "

This is logic of the most exquisite kind ; and applicable to the vindi-
cation of every thing under the stars. We shall not stop to canvass the
motives of the man who pronounced this extraordinary declaration. Let
them rest in his own bosom : we shall never stoop to search for them there.
But what has been the language of all the men to whose memory either
Whig or Tory looks up with any degree of reverence ? What was the
language of Pitt? — " Fixed principles in all things." What of Fox?
the same. What is the language of the present minister ? — " I began
my public life as a Whig, and in that belief I shall remain/' What
would be the answer of Brougham or Plunkett to the man who told
them — « Times are changed, principles must be suited to the altered
circumstances of the country." What would have been the answer of
Sir R. Peel himself, before the memorable and fatal year 1829, to any
tempter who had told him that t( principles must be suited to circum-
stances." But we abandon the man and the topic. We leave the speaker
to reflect upon what he was, and what he is ; we consign the topic to the
darkness from which it should have never been drawn.

But Reform is now the cry, and we shall have it in abundance. If
Reform meant the correction of abuses, we should be the fir^t to join in

1 83 1 .] The Stale of Europe. 593

the cry. If we found, in the language of the men who have domineered
at the late hustings, a single phrase from which we could extract reve-
rence for the sound institutions of the state, respect for the laws, or
homage to religioft, we should join in the cry. We should there erect
our standard, an^like the rest proceed to the work of renovation. But
what has been the language which has received the cheers of the multi-
tude : contempt for every thing stamped as wise, manly or necessary by
time ; a demand of privileges beyond the constitution, to the overthrow
of privileges made sacred by the constitution ; the plunder of rights,
found guilty without a crime ; the disfranchisement of boroughs, against
which no shadow of imputation lies, for the purpose of transferring their
franchise to men who set up no claim of merit but their multitude. The
speeches at the hustings have all been revolutionary ; the cheers with
which they have been heard, have all been the exultation of anticipated
overthrow, and the measures which those representatives will be com-
pelled to bring forward, will first shake the minister, and then shake
the country.

We have not been without our experience. Revolution has not
started up before us full armed from the feverish brains of party, for the
first time. Once we saw it among ourselves ; and the days of the un-
happy Charles remain a blot upon our history. But, not more than forty
years ago, we had the same measures projected, which are startling
us at this moment. The catastrophe was then averted by the sufferings
of France. The form before which party would have commanded
England to fall down and worship as a beneficent deity, was seen in
Prance to be a spirit of darkness. The wisdom of the nation was roused ;
the reform was pronounced hostile to the feelings, rights, and interests
of England ; and its projectors were driven into utter unpopularity.

Gibbon, a man whose knowledge and sagacity in human character
were unquestionable, and who had the highest opportunities of society
at home and abroad, a man withdrawn too from the passions of public
life, and with nothing to gain or lose, thus writes to his friend Lord
Sheffield from his retirement at Lausanne in 1790, —

" I shuddered at Grey's motion, disliked the half support of Fox, admired
the firmness of Pitt's declaration, and excused the usual intemperance of
Burke. Does the French democracy gain no ground ? Will the bulk of your
party stand firm to their interest, and that of their country ? If you do allow
them to perplex Government, if you trifle with this solemn business, if you do
not resist the spirit of innovation in the first attempt, if you admit the smallest
and most specious change in our Parliamentary system, you are lost. You will
be driven from one step to another— from principles, just in theory, to conse-
quences most pernicious in practice, and your first concessions will be produc-
tive of every subsequent mischief, for which you will be answerable to your
country and to posterity. Do not suffer yourselves to be lulled into a false
security. Remember the proud fabric of the French Monarchy — not four
years ago it stood, founded, as it might seem, on the rock of time, force, and
opinion — supported by the triple aristocracy of the church, the nobility, and
the Parliaments. They are crumbled into dust — they have vanished from the
earth. If this tremendous warning has no effect on the men of property in
England — if it does not open every eye and raise every arm, you will deserve
your fate."

And, again — he writes on the same subject, tracing the consequences
of such a triumph as the Reformers now struggle to achieve : —
M.M. New Series.— VOL, XL No. 66. 4 G

51) 1 The State of Europe. [JuNE,

November 25, 1792.

" Next winter may be the crisis of our fate; and if you begin to improve,
the Constitution, you may be driven, step by step, from the disfranchisement
of Old Sarum to the King in Newgate, the Lords voted useless, the Bishops
abolished, and a House of Commons sans Culottes."

The argument of force is even already adopted. The Tories are told,
" Give up, or you must be overwhelmed ; the people will break out into
insurrection, and your party will perish in the ruin.'' The Lords are told
in the same language, " The reformed House of Commons will not suffer
the insult of your longer repugnance. You see we have numbers on our
side, and numbers must carry the day. You may argue, but we will act ;
you may appeal to common sense, public right, or the law, we have
the populace. You may fly to the altar of the constitution ; but you are
but one to a thousand ; we will walk over the barriers, which you think
sacred, and shew you the weakness of human obligations against human
passions/'

At such a time what should be the course of high-minded and 'patriotic
men ? to be just and fear not ; to do their duty to the uttermost without
regard to the consequences; to adopt in public life the intrepidity, the de-
licacy of honour, and the pure principle, which make the virtue of private
life: especially, to shrink from all contact with the stained, to refuse all
temptation to degrade their generous and hallowed cause by the aid, the
treacherous and despicable aid, of the men whom they have already
found false. There, no tears must wash away the guilt of tergiversation ;
the leper must be kept without the camp. Let the high-minded do
their duty high-mindedly, arid they need never despair of their cause.
The future is safe in the hands of Heaven ; and they will yet see the re-
ward of their sacred perseverance, in the rescue of their country.

THE SILENT SISTER.

SUCH is the epithet by which the University of Dublin is commonly
distinguished from her elder sisters of the Cam and Isis. The silence of
a learned body is of course a metaphorical expression, figurative of its
literary obscurity. It is the scope of the following observations, to ex-
plain the circumstances which have brought so serious a reproach on the
Institution in question. In the pursuit of this subject, it will be neces-
sary to advert to certain abuses and defects in the collegiate system. We
shall treat them with a freedom proportioned to the importance of the
subject; offering no apology for the severity of our remarks, so long as
they are just.

The first aspect in which a university presents itself to notice, is that
of a great national school for the education of that portion of the flower
of the country, which is soon to be precipitated into the cares and
employments of the world. Considered in this light, the defects of the
Irish University are not peculiar to herself; she shares them with the
ancient collegiate establishments of this island. They have long been
the object of censure to the most enlarged and enlightened minds our
country has produced ; they were discovered by the all-pervading eye
of the immortal author of the " Advancement of Learning ;" they were
pointed out by Locke ; they did not escape the eagle glance of Milton.
To make this class of defects the matter of a special charge against Dublin

183J.] The Silent Sister. 595

College would be unjust, nor is their consideration relevant to our pre-
sent purpose. It is to another view of the subject — to defects of another
kind, that we must direct our attention in this article.

It is not enough that a richly endowed university should be an academy
for the discipline of youth, no matter how admirably adapted to that
purpose : its constitution will be deficient in a very material point, if it
fails to provide the nation with a perpetual supply of individuals, of
genius and capacity to extend the boundaries of knowledge, and placed
in such circumstances, as both to be induced and enabled to devote the
greater part of their time, and the whole vigour of their faculties, to that
high object. In this respect the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge
have answered with tolerable fidelity the end of their institution. The
College of Elizabeth wants this redeeming quality altogether; and in
this consists the true account of her low repute in the commonwealth of
letters. If we investigate the situation of the different members of which
the academic body is composed — senior fellows, junior fellows, and
scholars — we shall discover in the circumstances of each order amply
sufficient reasons to account for the " noiseless tenor of their way" in all
the walks of literature and science. Proceed we briefly to this exami-
nation.

Of the scholars, albeit three-score and ten in number, little notice need
be taken. We say not this through any feeling of disrespect ; but be-
cause they are generally of that immature age, when learning exacts
homage, but does not expect advancement from her votaries; moreover,
their connection with the college ceases at the expiration of five years,
during which period they are continually distracted between preparation
for their several professions on the one hand, and the harassing attend-
ance on the other, of chapels without devotion, and lectures without
information. Nor is this all ; they want the qualification, as well as the
leisure to blazon the name of their alma mater — chosen, as they are, to
their office, for no higher endowment than a superficial acquaintance with
but a meagre course of the Greek and Latin classics — a better recom-
mendation to the post of usher to a grammar-school than claim to the
title of a man of letters. To the former eminence accordingly the as-
pirations of the scholar are not uiifrequently directed. Fitted for an
usher he becomes an usher, and he prizes his academic character only as
it is the means of raising him to that distinction.

Pass we now to the junior fellows — eighteen in number. We waive
the qualifications required from the candidates for that office — we waive
the system of examination, the best that ingenuity could devise for ad-
mitting the dunce, and excluding the genius — we waive the bounty it
gives to smatterers, and the little or no encouragement to that concentra-
tion of the faculties on a single object, which is so natural to talents, and
so essential to the formation of a high intellectual character — all these
considerations we omit — we pass by the candidate and proceed to con-
template the situation of the fellow. In the College of Dublin every
junior fellow is a tutor. The students are parcelled out amongst them
in greater or smaller shares, according to their characters and connec-
tions; or, as it too frequently happens, according to the success with
which a hundred little arts are practised upon parents, schoolmasters,
and the public. Some fill their chambers by the attractions of their own
tables ; some by their pleasantries at the tables of others ; some by their
unction in fashionable pulpits/ or at bible meetings ; one reverend gentle-

4 G 2

596 The Silent Sister, [JUNE,

man by his sanctity at the " Asylum ;" another by his vociferations at
the club. But the manner is not the question : every junior fellow has
as many pupils, as his own influence, with that of his friends, can procure
him ; and the average at present to each tutor is about sixty-six. In the
tuition of this number, the junior fellow is occupied in term-time, from
five to six hours every day ; and he has besides a multiplicity of chapels,
lectures, and other academic business to attend to. His collegiate life,
therefore, is a species of tread-mill. Year after year, until thirty or forty
winters have shed their snows upon his head, he travels through Murray's
Logic, Locke's Essay, and Euclid's Elements, through Homer, Horace,
and Virgil, putting the same questions, making the same remarks, listen-,
ing to the same blunders. A single perusal of Murray would be wil-
lingly exchanged, by a man of any pretensions to intellect, for fine and
imprisonment. The unhappy junior fellow must undergo this punish-,
ment every return of Michaelmas and Hilary. He detests Homer and
Horace as cordially as the diner at commons hates a leg of mutton. The
former are good poets, and the latter is a good joint ; but the circum-
stance of the perusal of Homer and Horace recurring as regularly as the
solstice and equinox, creates the same disgust in the mind of the fellow,
as the <f quotidian leg of mutton roasted" produces on the palate of the
scholar.

** Occidit miseros crambe repetita magistros."

From these premises the reputation of the fellow in the literary world
may be deduced as easily as a conclusion in Barbara. Miracle it were,
if six or seven hours employment in the monotonous routine of a tutor's
office — even were we to admit the college course to be such as en.
lightened men in the present age would wish to render it — miracle, we
repeat, it were, if six hours so devoted left the mind in a fit state for any
kind of application, much less for scientific discovery, or original com-
position. When the pedagogue assumes the author, we have reason to
expect the crudest and heaviest performances. He will indeed but
rarely trouble us with such toilsome relaxations ; the jaded lecturer will
seek some easier way to repair his spirits, and unbend his mind ; nor are
we to marvel, if he occasionally forfeit the respect of his pupils, and
disparages the dignity of the college, in his impetuous quest after diver-
sion. Consider the dispiriting and degrading duties of a college lecturer
under the existing narrow system of education, and you will cease to be
astonished that the tame amusements of a vacant theatre, the dull dissipa-
tion of the ball-room, the ferocious pastime of the ring, the uproar of a
political club, or even a ride upon " Dycer's Break", have greater
charms for one or two reverend and learned clerks, who shall be nameless,
than those intellectual labours, by which, under an amended system, they
would do credit to themselves, shed a lustre on their body, and perform
their duty to the nation.

There remains to be mentioned another particular in the case of the
Junior Fellow, which is most inauspicious for his literary renown. We
allude to the life-tenure of his office. A holding of ten years would
manifestly be much more advantageous ; for, at the expiration of that
term, he would have nothing to depend on but his previously acquired
stock of learning and reputation, and the consciousness of this would
operate as a continual stimulus to his activity ; whereas the possession
of his fellowship for life co-operates with the causes already explained to

183 1 .] The Silent Sinter.

diffuse a languor over his character, and reduce to a " minimum" his
utility to the public. But the individual is not to blame ; it is the
system we visit with our censure. Shew us the man who covets the
dust and sweat of battle, when he has already secured the spoils and
honours of the victory.

We are now arrived at the " Corinthian capital " of the academic co-
lumn— the Seven Senior Fellows, or Heads of the College, as they are
sometimes humorously denominated. In the case of each of these dig-
nitaries, we find no fewer than from eighteen hundred to two thousand
dissuasives from intellectual labour, each of the value of one pound
sterling, good and lawful money of the realm, the regular proceeds of
the college property in land and money*.

Riches, says Verulam, are " impedimenta virtutis ;" may it not be said
with equal truth, that they are " impedimenta mentis?" You endow an
individual with near two thousand pounds a-year, and you expect him to
advance knowledge in return ! It is the height of unreasonableness.
The age of chivalry is over in literature, as well as in love. Perhaps,
with diligence, you might discover a single Quixote ; but if yjou want
seven champions of the same mettle, your only chance is in Plato's common-
wealth, or Utopian land. Certes, the boldest scepticism as to the learning
and capacity of the board prevails in the quarter which enjoys the largest
opportunities for forming a correct opinion on the subject. Amongst the
students, the hardihood of free-thinking goes the length of asseverating,
that in number only do the Senior Fellows admit of being compared
with that first philosophical society on record — the seven wise men of
ancient Greece. If luminaries they must be called, say these daring
doubters, it is certainly of that order, whose light, astronomers inform us,
has not yet completed its journey to the earth. Their brilliancy, they
continue, is matter of faith ; you may believe in it if you please ; for our
part, we walk by sight, and we shall support the opaque hypothesis until
our eyes convince us of its falsehood. Various anecdotes are related in
confirmation of these sentiments. In a conversation on the tithe-system,
one learned but not reverend Doctor, defending the establishment with
his usual eloquence and acumen, declared that far from receiving the
" tenth/' he had reason to believe the parsons seldom obtained so much
as the "fifth" But no anecdote is so frequently repeated as the follow-
ing. When Mr. Canning visited Dublin, five or six years ago, he was

conducted through the college by the Rev. Dr. P ; and the story

runs, that the former, having fixed his eye upon an oriental manuscript
in the Museum, asked his learned Cicerone for some information concern-
ing it. t( It belonged," said the Doctor, " to a person of the name of Hyder
Ali, but who Hyder All was I do not take upon me to say." It is fair to
add that the gentleman who made this celebrated reply is not the " Pro-
fessor of Modern History."

It is very much to the credit of the University of Dublin, that in spite
of the shackles in which her defective constitution binds her members,

* The revenues of this establishment are generally allowed to be very great. If
public utility was to be measured by opulence of endowment, the benefits conferred
on the nation by the University of Dublin would be pronounced to be of the highest
order. The exact amount of the collegiate property has, however, always eluded
investigation. The pockets of the board are as inscrutable as fate. A kind of
Rosicrucian mystery envelopes this golden subject. It is common to see livings
of fifteen and eighteen hundred a-year rejected by nine or ten Fellows in succes-
sion.

598 The Silent Sister. [JUNE,

many efforts have been made to attract the admiration of the public.
Now one, now another individual of spirit, seeing himself looked on as
a lazy monk, and branded as a "faineant" conceived the noble resolve
of breaking the chain of silence, and astonishing mankind — but mark
the issue ! The enemy they had to contend with was the system. It
met them at every step, infested their line of march, and foiled them in
every field. Whether they essayed eloquence, divinity, science, or polite
literature, their gowns entangled them ; and every enterprise proved
abortive. They tried the press, the pulpit, the political arena — speeches,
sermons, magazines, treatises, commentaries, with sundry other experi-
ments on the public purse and patience, were hazarded in sad succession.
Two egregious gentlemen assumed in partnership the province of
oratory, determined by all the rules of Tully and Quintilian to vindicate
the college. A sphere was not long wanting for the efforts of Messrs.

S , and B -. The " sons of thunder" went down together into

Ulster in the royal mail ; but the system ! the system ! alas, the system !
it followed them wherever they went as tenaciously as their shadows —
not (like the cowardly shadow of the lion in the treatise on the Bathos)
deterred from following them, because

They roared so loud, and looked so wonderous grim —

No ! it clung to them as obstinately as the " old man of the sea," to the
back of Sindbad, until every tavern in Armagh, Tyrone, and Derry, re-
sounded with evidence of their failure. Practice was vain. Mr. S

wrote, studied, recited, laboured, but no progress ! He was no nearer
Demosthenes when he addressed the merchants last summer in Dublin,
than when he began his career three years ago at the -political dinner at
Armagh. If the truth of this criticism be questioned, compare the best

passages in both speeches. Mr. S in Dublin at the late election —

" Do we not glory in the recorder?" Mr. S in Armagh — his maiden

oration — " I adore the archbishop of Dublin." Indeed there is rather a
falling off in the later effort. We leave it to Longinus — or perhaps the
assistant professor of oratory, with the help of Blair and a bottle, will
resolve the question. But the divine might succeed, though the dema-
gogue failed. The triumphs of the pulpit .might efface the disasters of
the dinner-table. Dr. K. was the man. He was nominated preacher for
the year. He composed, he mounted, he preached. The sermons on
the " Creation of the World0 will scarcely be forgotten by the men of
Trinity before the end of it. The resources of the language were un-
explored till then. No, one could believe our dictionaries contained from
cover to cover so many seven-leagued words as were now assembled in
one discourse. An Arab orator is said to have harangued the live-long
day without once availing himself of the first letter of the alphabet. Dr.
K. held forth for three months without drawing a dozen times on the
monosyllables or dissyllables of the language. The son of the desert
was out-done by the Fellow of Trinity. The book of Genesis was
" the Cosmogonic portion of' the Pentateuchal Chronicles." The seven
days of the first week were the " Demiurgic Hebdomad" The school
divinity of the dark ages, from the dust and silence of the uppermost
shelves of the college library, lent all her mongrel and dissonant phra-
seology. Geology, pressed into the foreign service of theology, con-
tributed a host of jaw-breakers. The college groaned through all her
corners. Better indeed had she been mute for ever than vocal through

1831.] The Silent Sister. 599

such an organ. At first it was a pleasant entertainment ; but when the
extravagance lost the zest of novelty, the surpliced auditory grew thin-
ner and thinner every returning Sabbath. The careless tired of cough-
ing ; the serious thought it better to read the book of Genesis in thez'r
chambers, than risk the alternative of slumbering in the house of God,

or waking to cosmogony and Dr. K — y.

The next lance that was broken in the quarrel of Alma Mater, was in
the Lists of Periodical Literature. We spare them the mention of the
connoisseur. The Dublin Philosophical Journal issued " ex cedibus aca-
demicis." An article " On the 'Emotion of Pity" appeared from the pen

of Dr. L . The fate of the publication was sealed. It lingered,

however, three agonizing months ; the dissertation on pity proceeding
from number to number, with the awful words " to be continued" ever
bringing up the rear. The fourth or fifth number — we do not exactly
remember which — Concluded the Doctor's subject, and by an odd coin-
cidence, was the last of the Magazine. No inquest, we believe, was held
upon the defunct publication ; but had such a procedure been instituted,
the verdict would unquestionably have been as follows :— ce Died of an

article on the Emotion of Pity, from the hand of the Rev. Dr. L •.

But we can commend as well as censure. Distinguished instances
there are, where individuals, from indisposition to take the usual methods
of gaining pupils, or from other causes, have much of their time on their
hands, and have employed it in a manner that has never attracted the
notice it deserves. Mr. H — te, the translator and annotator of the
" Mecanique Celeste" and " Systeme du Monde" (the former the greatest
scientific work that has appeared since the " Principia,"^) is no less emi-
nent for his mathematical knowledge, than estimable for his amiable and
independent character. He would hold a higher plaee in public estima-
tion but for the system we have endeavoured to expose. It has been the
sad effect of that system to reduce to so low a point the character of
Dublin College, that no work of talent is ever expected from its members.
They might attain the altitude of Newton or 'La Place before any scien-
tific body in Europe would vouchsafe a glance at their productions.
With similar pleasure we notice Mr. OfB n, a gentleman who has re-
cently evinced an eloquence and ability in the pulpit, which promise to
wipe off the disgrace which the discourses on Cosmogony left upon the

college chapel. But this is only one of the claims which Mr. O'B n

has on our commendation. His acquirements are extensive both in ele-
gant literature and solid information. The time, which some of his con-
temporaries spend in intriguing for pupils, he dedicates to less lucrative
but more useful and honourable pursuits ; and he has never been charged
with occupying even the intervals of academic business with foppery or
faction. He is is said to have no relish for either ; and the proof of his
distaste is the carefulness with which he shuns the company of their
votaries. His chambers are the resort of a respectable, enlightened, and
therefore very limited acquaintance. Whatever literature has not yet
taken wing from Ireland courts his society and enjoys his friendship ;
but if you look for the rider on the " break" the declaimer of the club,
or the dangler of the box-lobby, you will not find them in his circle.
This accomplished individual has to struggle through the obscurity that
hangs over his college ; but he will find it a more arduous task to emerge
from the shadow which his excessive modesty flings over his talents. If
ever he shall " suffer himself to be admired1' by more than half-a-dozen

600 The Silent Sister. [JuNE,

acquaintance, he will shed a lustre on the university of Dublin brighter
than has encompassed her name since the days of Molyneux and Berkely.

Dr. McD-" 11 is a man whose character and acquirements would do

honour to any university ; but he labours to no purpose in the professor-
ship of oratory. Oratory cannot be taught by lectures, however philo-
sophical and eloquent. That divine art was once taught in the college of
Dublin ; but the board in its wisdom annihilated the school. That
school was the Historical Society. If it be asked why they took that step,
the answer is, not that they disapproved of eloquence, but that they dis-
liked the lessons which are sure to be imbibed wherever eloquence is
cultivated — high sentiments in patriotism, and sound principles in poli-
tics. This aversion, however, originated with the castle, the feeling was
only adopted by the college. The " idem velle" and " idem nolle' are all
as essential to loyalty as to friendship.*

The conclusion, from the observations we have made, and which have
been written in no spirit of hostility, but with a view to produce some
good result, were it only to originate discussion upon a question so
vitally interesting to Ireland, the conclusion we come to is, that such an
alteration of the collegiate system, as would exalt the fellows, or some
portion of the fellows, from the rank of mere tutors, to that of eminent
literary men ; deliver them from the stnpifying round of official duties,
the torture of which we have attempted to describe, and invest them
with the capacity of doing something more reputable than pupil-hunting,
and more useful than developing the depths of Murray, or scanning the
Horatian metres ; such an alteration, we conclude, would be a most ser-
viceable reform, and amply repay the pains and costs of carrying it into
execution. The funds of the College of Dublin would amply suffice to
render a number of the junior fellows independent of tuition ; and any
thing that might be subtracted from the fortunes of the seniors, would
be returned with usury in the added learning and respectability of the
body. Until some plan shall have been adopted with this object, vain it
is to look for the elevation of the character of the Irish University. Her
fellows will continue to be classified into drones, without motives to
exertion, and drudges, without credit for their labour — the majority
affluent, easy and obscure — the minority, less fortunate in pocket, and
little more fortunate in attracting the attention of the world. In conse-
quence of such a state of things, the college will continue to be nothing
but an indifferent academy for grown boys, and a rich retreat for some
old men. Her name will be heard as little in the commonwealth of let-
ters as it is to-day, and will be mentioned only with the ridicule which
attaches to the name of the Silent Sister.

liberal spirit of a former age had adopted. Alas ! the college of Dublin has retro-
graded not advanced.

1831.] [ 601 ]

SPANISH HIGH-WAYS AND BY-WAYS. N°. II.*

MY intended journey into Estremadura, from Madrid, was postponed
in consequence of the yellow fever appearing in some of the districts
through which I had to travel. That my time, therefore, might not be
unprofitably spent, I determined to retrace my steps to Bristol, to report
to those who were interested in my journey what I had already done,
and to consult with them upon the ulterior objects of our speculation. It
was then agreed — from circumstances unnecessary to mention here — that
I should decline the offer of the Spanish government, and not accept the
grant of land offered me in Estremadura, but avail myself of their per-
mission to inspect the Rio Tinto copper mines, then idle from want of
capital — of whose extent and value extravagant rumours had been circu-
lated. I arrived early in the spring at Bayonne, oil my return to Madrid,
and received from Captain Harvey, the British consul, my little Andalu-
sian horse, which he had kindly taken charge of during my absence in
England. My servant I despatched to Irun, the Spanish frontier town,
by a singular conveyance, termed, " a la cacole," which is a large sad-
dle, placed on a horse, to which are affixed two seats or chairs, back to
back, of course intended to carry two passengers. Each horse is at-
tended by a woman, who in the event of having a single passenger,
mounts the vacant seat, and preserves the equilibrium. Horses thus
equipped and attended are frequently hired for long journeys,
though it appeared to me to be rather an unsocial conveyance for a
distance. I now fitted up my little horse much in the same manner
as I had done on my journey from Madrid, for I proposed making a
circuit of nearly three thousand miles, and the traveller through the
by-roads of Spain can hardly expect to meet with many comforts on his
journey. Under my saddle I placed a small blanket, and a sheet, sewn
together, leaving an opening through which it might be stuffed with
short straw, and serve as a bed. Before and behind the saddle my
baggage was packed, covered with black sheep-skins ; and my alforjas,
or pockets, were slung across, containing a small kettle, sugar, tea, soap,
and other things which might be difficult to procure. Thus mounted,
with good pistols in my holsters, my gun slung at my back, and a brace
of capital spaniels by my side, I bid adieu to my good friend the consul,
who did riot scruple to tell me that he thought there was every chance
of my closing the account of my journey very speedily.

The brigands of the Pyrenees, that they might ensure to themselves
the safe conduct of travellers, had burnt all the regular coaches, thus
obliging them to seek individual modes of conveyance, that their law-
less contributions might be levied with less difficulty. These circum-
stances had been explained to me, with a few additional particulars ;
but as my determination to explore was stronger than my fears, I was
not diverted from my original design. There is something exciting in
this mode of travelling. Few persons choose to resign their personal
comfort, and court the risk which must ever attend on such expeditions,
without some more urgent stimulus than a love of novelty. But to be
thrown on my own resources in a strange country and amongst strange
people, was not disagreeable to me. I preferred visiting by-places, where
few travellers had been before, to following the steps of others, and merely

* Extracted from the Note-Book of Sir Paul Baghot.
M.M. New Series— VOL. XI. No. 66. 4 H

602 Spanish High-ways and By-mays. [J UNE,

gleaning where the harvest had been already reaped. I therefore set out
in the manner above stated to rejoin my servant on the Spanish frontiers.
On the road to St. Jean de Luz, I had an opportunity of proving my dogs,
who found plenty of teal and wild fowl in the rushes and sides of the lake,
which is seen by the road side. These dogs I brought from England, and
were rare and valuable in Spain. I overtook my servant at Irun, and sent
him forward to Vittoria with my dogs, while I made an excursion of an
hundred miles through Vergara and Durango to see my friends at Bilboa.

Bilboa is the capital of Biscay, and, though small, is considered one of
the neatest and pleasantest towns in Spain. It is situated on the river
Ansa, which flows into the Bay of Biscay, and carries on a considerable
trade with Newfoundland ; salted cod-fish being the principal and
favourite food with the peasantry. Large quantities of wool, some years
sixteen thousand bags, are exported from Bilboa to England and France.
The streets are paved with small pebbles, worked into squares and fanciful
devices, which have a novel and pretty effect ; through many of the streets
carts and heavy vehicles are not allowed to pass. General Mazarado, the
governor of the city, with whom I was intimate, paid me every attention
during my stay, and gave an entertainment to which he invited all the
nobility and gentry in the neighbourhood, by which I had the pleasure of
meeting the beau monde of Bilboa. The inhabitants I found a social and
enlightened people, commerce having diffused its influence throughout,
eradicating errors and prejudices but too common in the interior of Spain.
On my road to Vittoria my travels were nearly brought to a close, as my
friend the consul at Bayonne had prognosticated, though by a different
mode. I was slowly ascending one t>f those long hills so common in that
part of Biscay, when I encountered a line of mules laden with merchan-
dize. These animals have a particular aversion to horses, and no sooner
did I arrive within reach of their heels, than they lashed out on me with
such violence and fury, that I was literally kicked over some pieces of
timber, lying in the road, and thrown to such a distance, that had
I not providentially grasped a small tree, I should have been plunged
into the river below. My horse was so much hurt, that I was obliged
to halt at a posada for three hours, before he could proceed ; however,
by exertion, I contrived to make Vittoria before night, a distance of
forty-eight English miles. From Vittoria I pursued my old route
to Escaray, where I engaged another servant. He was a native of Lon-
don, but from a long residence in Spain had become almost naturalized.
I purchased another horse for him, equipped like my own, and started
for the capital. We left the high road and made for the small town of
Barbadillios, across a range of stupendous mountains, having engaged a
guide to conduct us. The road was highly picturesque, though anything
but convenient for travellers. We followed a horse-track for a consider-
able distance, of just sufficient space for us to pass singly. It was in one
place covered with deep snow, which rendered it both difficult and dan-
gerous to proceed. My horse fell three times in our attempt to pass.
We halted about midway, and spreading our provisions on a sunny bank
we indemnified ourselves for our past labour. For nearly thirty miles
across these mountains, we did not meet with a human being, nor the
semblance of a habitation ; those wild and inhospitable mountains seem-
ing by common consent to be abandoned to the wolves, the wild boars,
and the deer, their native possessors.

We reached the small village of Barbadillios in the evening, and took

1831.] Spanish High-ways and By-ways. 603

up our quarters at the house of a shepherd. The good wife had but
scanty fare wherewith to regale us, and I set out to forage for our sup-
per. There was a small river adjacent which seemed to promise fair,
and seeing some boys, I inquired whether they were in the habit of fish-
ing. I soon learnt they were not unacquainted with the sport ; and nets
being procured, I fixed them across the river, the boys beating the banks
and deep places with poles, when we speedily caught as much trout
and cray-fish as would have served us for two days. This little village
is romantically situated in a fertile valley surrounded by gigantic moun-
tains. The male inhabitants usually employ themselves in agriculture ;
but at certain seasons they make an inroad into the adjacent mountains,
where they form a hunting encampment, usually consisting of between
thirty and* forty individuals. The less experienced are then sent with
their dogs, to certain passes, where, by the discharge of fire-arms, and
the barking of their dogs, they drive the game towards the marksmen,
who lie in wait for them, in the directions they are expected to pass.
The hunters are very expert, and usually secure a good booty. The
wolves they shoot are taken to the alcalde, who pays the sum of eight
pesettas for each animal destroyed. The wild boars and deer are sold in
the neighbouring villages, and the produce divided amongst the hunters.
On leaving the shepherd's house, we followed the course of the river for
about two miles, and then entered a lonesome defile, formed by a chasm
in the mountain, through which the river forced its way, leaving a small
space scarcely sufficient for a horse to travel by its side. I now proceeded
to the village of Salas des Infantes, and discharged my guide, though
rather unadvisedly ; for after proceeding through a fine country for about
eight miles, I was obliged to retrace my steps, owing to my route being
intercepted by a river too considerable to ford. There was good sport,
however, on the road in shooting partridges, which I found in great
numbers.

It was late in the evening before I reached the house of Don Ramon,
to whom I had a letter. He received me very cordially, and invited the
dignitaries of the village to meet me at supper. These consisted of the
alcalde, the priest, and the parish doctor. The next day, my host fur-
nished me with a guide to Aranda, a distance of nine leagues, through a
very intricate country ; who, estimating his service probably at a higher
rate than I did, arranged the difference, by stealing a handsome silk
sash, which I bought in London, intending it for a very different service.
During my ride I observed several birds quite strange to me : I endea-
voured to shoot some of a dark colour, with red bills, but they evaded my
pursuit. I likewise saw a largato, or large lizard, but he retreated to
his burrow before I was ready. The next evening, I reached the ancient
town of Sepulveda. It stands on a hill, encircled by a deep ravine,
through which flows a clear and rapid river. The town is enclosed by
walls, flanked by numerous towers and fortifications, and is approached
by a steep paved causeway. The rocks on the opposite side of the river
are lofty and perpendicular, and are the abode of eagles and vultures.
I essayed a shot at one of the former, but my charge was not heavy
enough to bring him down. Sepulveda lies considerably from the royal
road, and must doubtless have been a place of consequence in the time
of the Moors. Many interesting relics of antiquity are to be seen scat-
tered about, which is so far fortunate, for it requires the imagination to
be occupied, that the mind may be diverted from dwelling with disgust

4 H 2

604 Spanish High-ways and By-ways. [JUNE,

on the total absence of anything like cleanliness or comfort, to be found
in the houses of entertainment, whimsically so called. From this place
I pursued the direct road to Madrid, passing through Segovia, Villa
Castine, and several smaller towns, where the remains of Moorish taste
and ingenuity are sufficiently abundant. A circumstance occurred within
a league of the capital, which was nearly attended with serious results.
It was early in the evening, and I was pursuing my way leisurely, en-
joying by anticipation the comfort of my old posada of San Fernanda,
when an ill-looking savage started from the road side, and snatched at
my bridle. Resenting such an unceremonious assault, and being of
opinion that a similar attack on my purse was in contemplation, I drew
one of my pistols from the holster, and presenting it at the fellow's head,
pulled the trigger. I had not contemplated any occasion for pistols so
near Madrid, and had neglected looking to my powder. The pistol
therefore missed fire ; and at the same moment half a score ruffians rushed,
as it seemed, from all sides, and surrounding me, commanded me with
violent imprecations and menaces to alight. For this I had no choice,
when in a trice they stripped my horse and that of my servant, of the
manifold articles of furniture they bore, examining everything with the
utmost minuteness, and then in a surly tone told us we might proceed.
At this I was the more surprised, as they did not prefer a claim to watch
and purse, which I had prepared as a matter of course. While the ani-
mals were reloading, I therefore hazarded a few inquiries, when the chief
of the gang informed me, that, as he found we were strangers, he should
take no notice of what had passed ; but that it was fortunate for me the
pistol had not taken effect, or they would certainly have cut me to pieces
on the spot. I was still at a loss ; when I learnt further, that these
gentlemen whom I had unwarily taken for a gang of brigands, were
officers of the king, on the look out for smugglers; and judging from
our appearance that we belonged to that respectable fraternity, thought
they had secured a prize. I arrived shortly afterwards at Madrid, and
took up my quarters at my old posada of San Fernanda. On the fol-
lowing day, I obtained leave from the minister, to inspect the royal
mines in Andalusia and Estremadura ; previous to which, however, he
expressed a wish that I should visit the royal woollen manufactory at
Guadalaxara, and report its state to the government. This was nearly
a day's ride, forty miles : therefore, the next morning I hired a calache,
and, accompanied by my friend Mr. Thomas (of whom I spoke in my
former journey), commenced our excursion. We left Madrid by the gate
of Alcala, and passing through a pretty village, of which the chief objects
are the palace of the Duchess of Ossuna, and the house of Palafox the
hero of Saragossa, we arrived at the town of Alcala de Hen ares. On the
road we passed an extensive piece of waste land, on which were grazing a
herd of nearly a thousand bulls. These animals were all black ; they
were collected to amuse the good people of Madrid at their bull-fights,
and served as a stock to draw from as occasion might require. Alcala
was originally one of the principal universities in Spain ; it is likewise
the residence of the primate, the archbishop of Toledo. The income of
this dignitary of the church is estimated at £120, 000 per annum, which,
if we consider the value of money in Spain, may be considered the
richest prelacy in Christendom. The road from Madrid to Guadalaxara
is extremely well cultivated ; no finer wheat is grown in Spain than in
this district. Few improvements are visible here in their system of agri-

1831.] Spanish High-ways and By-ways. 605

culture ; their mode of husbandry is much the same as that received from
their forefathers. The culture of turnips is unknown, neither are the
sheep folded, except in rare instances, when they are enclosed in nets
suspended from poles. The merinos usually pasture in Estremadura,
and those sheep retained by the farmer are secured at night in outhouses,
both to secure them from the wolves, and to prevent their licking the
dew from the herbage before the sun has exhaled the malignant qualities,
which they confidently believe it has imbibed during the night. The
land is fallowed every third year, after a crop of wheat and another of
barley, the latter being the food of horses and mules ; oats are seldom
grown. Their mode of thrashing is perfectly primitive. Several pieces
of ground in the neighbourhood of the town, are allotted for this pur-
pose, to which all the produce of the adjacent country is brought. A
thick board, six feet in length, and four in width, is perforated with
holes, in which are placed sharp flint stones, projecting about half an
inch. On the front of this board a man takes his place, on a seat provided
for that purpose, and a number of oxen or mules are fastened to it with
cords. The corn in the straw is then strewn on the ground, in a circle
formed with stones, and this extraordinary implement of husbandry is
then dragged over it, a man standing in the centre of the circle assisting
the driver to flog the beasts to their utmost speed. A drove of loose cattle
are likewise driven over it, so that the sharp flint, and the hoofs of mules
and oxen, do the work of thrashing very completely. The straw is, by
these means, torn into small particles, which is packed in nets and sent
to Madrid as provender for horses and mules. Their method of win-
nowing is by throwing the undressed corn against the wind, which sepa-
rates it from the chaff. I was told of an American, -who, taking com-
passion on the unenlightened natives, and seeing the prospect of a good
profit, introduced one of our thrashing machines, and undertook to
thrash the farmer's corn at a trifling expense per bushel. On the first
day he succeeded admirably, but on the next, when the speculator went
to resume his labours, to his utter consternation he found the engine
which was to work him wealth, broken into atoms, and dispersed in every
possible direction. On inquiry, he found the country people had con-
sulted on its efficiency, and came to a resolution, in which they were
assisted by the parish priest, that the devil was inside the engine, and
they were determined, as good Christians, to have nothing to do with him,
but in the fair way of trade ! The wheat thus thrashed is taken to the
water before it is ground, and washed well from the impurities it has
contracted. It is then exposed on sheets of linen to the sun and air to
dry and harden. Wheat is never stacked, but thrashed immediately it
is reaped; but I have remarked they allow the corn to remain standing
a month or more after it is ripe, by which means it becomes sufficiently
hard to supersede the necessity of stacking. The plough is drawn by
uxen or mules, and is as rude an instrument as their thrashing machine.
It appears to me more like the fluke of an anchor than anything else,
and though it certainly moves the earth, I think it would puzzle one of
our Gloucestershire farmers to turn a furrow with it.

Guadalaxara is perceived in the distance immediately after leaving
Alcala. The road continues good all the way, the river Henares flowing
on the right hand the whole distance. Beyond the river is a ragged
chain of mountains, rent into deep chasms and ravines, through which
torrents of water are continually pouring into the river during the winter

606 Spanish High-ways and By-ways. £JuNE,

months. On the left the country is open and interspersed with pretty
villages. A new posada was pointed out to us, which, from the circum-
stances related of it, I was curious to visit. It was built by a man who
had acquired his property during the French war. His system was, to
hover in the rear of the French armies, murder all the stragglers who
unfortunately came within his reach, and having rifled them, to throw
the bodies into the wells of the neighbourhood to escape detection.
The countenance of mine host attested him as one eminently qualified
for such an enterprise ; for never in the course of my peregrinations did
I have the misfortune to encounter so ill-featured a ruffian ; many a
league would I travel rather than pass a night at the Posada de Si.
Nicola ! Guadalaxara is the capital of Alcaria, and was taken from the
Moors by the army of Alfonso, the first king of Castile. The Duke de
Infantado resides in this city, to whom I was introduced by his confessor,
Father Egan. His Grace was at one time ambassador to England, and
spoke a little English. The Palace du Infantado is an ancient building,
partly Moorish in its design, and emblazoned with the arms of that noble
family elaborately carved in stone. In the church of the convent of the
Cordilliers is the duke's cemetry. During the period when the French
were allowed to ravage this part of the country, this sanctuary was vio-
lated, and some of the beautiful marble sarcophagi, containing the
remains of the illustrious ancestors of the house of Infantado, were over-
turned, in search of treasure, and many of them destroyed. This mau-
soleum rivals in beauty the royal sepulchre at the Escurial. It is ap-
proached by a descent of 54 steps, the walls and roof inlaid with marbles
of rare colour and beauty. At the foot of the stairs two doors open into
different chambers, where the remains of the duke's ancestors repose in
their stately resting-places. A chapel is attached to the cemetry, which
is richly ornamented with gilding and rare stones. The altar is one
solid piece of exquisite marble, on which rests a beautifully wrought cru-
cifix. Having surveyed the churches and curiosities of the town, we
then proceeded to the royal manufactory of cloths, and delivered our
letters of introduction.

The palace and the factory to which it is attached have been built
about J I JO years, and have all appearance of a royal establishment. The
gates are kept by porters in royal liveries, and a guard is constantly on
duty. A handsome marble fountain adorns the quadrangle which forms
the entrance, and on the right is a noble staircase, leading to the king's
apartments. We were received with caution by the director, who, hav-
ing examined our order, conducted us over the various departments of
that portion of the factory called San Fernando. The warehouses and
working-rooms are spacious, and appeared to be kept with a due regard
to order and cleanliness. One shop was arched and fire-proof, containing
ninety-four broad looms. Another held a duplicate of every article
required for the use of the factory, even to the most insignificant mate-
rials. The dye-houses are large, and adjoining them are the mills for
grinding the dyeing-stuffs. The next morning we visited the factory of
San Carlos, which is likewise a quadrangular building, and stands on the
site of an ancient Moorish palace. It is appropriated to the manufacture
of sarge, which is worn by the ecclesiastics and friars, and is an article
of great demand in Spain. The number of workmen is now reduced to
eleven hundred and ten, and there were still one hundred and thirty-two
clerks in the establishment ; formerly it gave employ to upwards of thirty

1831.] Spanish High-ways and By-ways. 607

thousand hands. There are two large gardens affording the choicest
fruit, and the Serenillio or island is seven miles in circumference, planted
with timber trees for the use of the manufactory. The works are exactly
in the same state as our own were about fifty years since ; at that period
this establishment was unequalled ; but rapid improvements have taken
place in England within the last half century, whereas in Spain altera-
tions are deemed innovations, and old errors are persevered in with a
consistency worthy a better object. Having gained all the information
I required, on my return to Madrid I made my report to the minister,
in which I did not disguise the evident decline of the manufactory, and
the gross peculation of the director and his associates. Shortly after-
wards I was invited to an interview with his excellency, who informed
me that he had found my report to be correct, and expressed a wish that
I should proceed, without delay, to examine the royal mines, and other
establishments throughout Spain, intimating that I should have a grant
of any I might choose to undertake. On the following day having obtained
my credentials for the inspection of all the royal mines and establishments
of every nature in Estremadura and Andalusia, I left Madrid, and
arrived at Aranjuez late the same evening. Owing to the lateness of
the hour I had some difficulty in finding a decent posada, when I had
the satisfaction of paying double for every accommodation, the landlord
assuring me that the innkeepers of that town had an acknowledged right
to extortion, being one of the privileges attached to a royal residence. I
have no space to describe the beauty of this town, nor its palace, nor its
gardens, and the same excuse must hold good throughout the greater
part of my journey. I must therefore hurry along the sterile plains of
La Mancha, celebrated by the valorous knight of the immortal Cervantes
— hardly allowing time to halt at La Mota del Cuervo to visit the hill on
which stood the fourteen enchanted windmills, and make directly for the
grand pass of the Sierra Morena, which divides the desert plain of La
Mancha, from the rich and luxuriant province of Andalusia. At Man-
zanares I was obliged, though with much regret, to part with my favourite
Andalusian horse, and take in his place a little shabby animal, whose
only recommendation was his youth. The road across the mountains
called the Sierra Morena, was constructed by the order of Bonaparte,
and is only inferior to the great road over the Simplon into Italy. There
are some features in this work which excite the admiration of every tra-
veller, particularly the grand pass, which is carried on arches over a
tremendous abyss nearly a mile in length, and secured on the outside by
a parapet wall. I alighted from my horse in one particular spot to ascer-
tain the depth of the precipice on the brink of which I was standing,
and could not consider it less than 600 feet. At the bottom a river was
roaring along amongst the immense masses of rock, which were scattered
about in wild disorder, though the scene was considerably softened by
the luxuriant foliage of the tulip tree, the arbutus, and the evergreen
oak, which sprouted from every fissure. The road to La Carolina is
most romantic, and winds through the mountains, which open to the
mineralogist and botanist an extensive field for study. Mines of gold
and silver, copper, christals and quicksilver, are in its immediate vicinity.
Marbles of the most exquisite beauty, and a variety of rare fossils every-
where abound. There are likewise aromatic and medicinal plants. Fo-
rests of blooming myrtles, the tulip, and gum scystus, and other indige-
nous plants, perfume the air with their fragrance. On one occasion I

608 Spanish High-ways and By-ways.

dismounted my horse to count these different, and, to me, rare produc-
tions of nature, in a square yard, and found it contained seven distinct
classes, each of them of sufficient interest to enrich the green-house.

It is here the bustard finds safe retreat when driven from the extensive
plains of La Mancha by the Cacador ; and red-legged partridges are in
such abundance that no season is limited for their safety, of which I
found ample proof in the month of May. Orteijas, or a species of
grouse, of which there are two or three classes, are common : they are
very Beautiful in their plumage, and resemble the grouse in form, parti-
cularly the head, and are riot to be found in any other part of the continent.
Doves, quails, woodcocks and snipes, are always here in their season.
Reptiles, such as lizards and snakes, are numerous. I discovered a
snake of considerable size, climbing up a rock in the Sierra, which I de-
sired my servant to shoot, and I only regret I did not take its dimensions.

It is rather singular that I did not meet a single traveller on the road,
except a black man walking over the grand pass : I addressed him in
Spanish, and asked him what countryman he was, when, to my surprise,
he replied, " I am an Englishman, and can't speak Spanish, and I am
travelling from Gibraltar to England, by way of Madrid and Paris."
Of course I lent him some assistance to continue his route. The little
town of Carolina is in itself sufficiently tempting to the traveller, who
has passed the desert of La Mancha. It is one of the German colonies,
established by Charles III., and was once famous for the production of
silk, though now its produce is insignificant. I inspected some of the
rooms, and found that great care was required, even in that climate, in
the management of the worms. They were fed on the leaves of the
white mulberry tree, which reproduces its leaves four times within the
year. The inhabitants subsist principally by the chase, for which the
adjacent mountains furnish an inexhaustible supply. They abound in
deer, wild boars, cobra de monte, or wild goat, besides the wolf, wild
cat, the lynx, hare, rabbit, and other animals peculiar to this range of
mountains, which continue for nearly two hundred miles in one direc-
tion. I was amused by the appearance of a man in the street, carrying
the head of a stag, and that of a boar, crying out as he went along, Las
Animas, which I found was an invitation to all good Christians to pur-
chase— the profits arising from the heads of these animals being a per-
quisite of the priest, for which he contracted to relieve so many souls
from purgatory ! We passed through Andujar and several small towns,
through a delightful country, where the pomegranate, fig, and aloe were
abundant, when we reached the ancient and celebrated city of Cordova,
once the capital of a Moorish kingdom. The mosque is too magnificent
a structure to be passed in silence. It is indeed a noble monument of
antiquity. The north point is richly adorned with sculpture, and before
the entrance are six columns of jasper, celebrated for their rare beauty.
The length of the building is five hundred and thirty feet, and its
breadth four hundred and twenty ; the walls being from six to eight feet
in thickness. A friar pointed out to me an inscription on the wall in
Arabic, which is translated — " He who enters this mosque must neither
laugh, spit, nor look backwards." The roof is supported by 900 marble
columns, many of which appear to have been carved before the Christian
era, from the date inscribed thereon. This mosque has been for many
ages devoted to the Christian religion, and is rich in sacred vessels for its
service. My conductor shewed me a magnificent fttitodia of wrought

1831.] Spanish High-way* and By-ways. 609

silver, which he informed me was secreted, and saved from falling into
the hands of the French.

Near the mosque, raised on an artificial rock, from which flows a stream
of water, stands a lofty pillar, on which is erected a statue of the arch-
angel Raphael,beautifully carved in wood,. Underneath is an inscription
in the Castillian language—" I swear to you by Jesus Christ crucified,
that I am Raphael the angel whom God has placed as a guard over this
city/' — I continued my route to Seville, passing through several German
towns, once flourishing and populous, and a charming country, which it is
impossible even for a despotic government and a bigotted priesthood to
destroy. This is considered about the warmest part of Spain. The cot-
ton-plant is cultivated with success, and the aloe rears its beautiful blos-
soms with a vigour and luxuriance hardly surpassed in the tropical
regions of America.

Our approach to the capital was marked by groups of peasantry
eagerly making their way as though to the scene of some promised en-
joyment. It was a lively and picturesque sight to see the swarthy An-
dalusian clothed in the various colours of his holyday attire, and the
women with their laughing black eyes and their dark braided hair, some
on mules and others on foot, pressing forward with a joyousness and
hilarity as though care and toil were utterly unknown to them. It
was Sunday morning, and I found the day, a festival here, was to be
honoured with one of those grand national spectacles, the bull-fights. I
had heard much of these exhibitions, and therefore was glad to have an
opportunity of witnessing one, particularly as the bulls of Andalusia
were esteemed the fiercest, and their adversaries the most expert in
Spain. I entered Seville about eleven o'clock, and proceeded to hear
grand mass at the cathedral. After the service I was conducted through
this sumptuous edifice, where, amongst other rich and valuable relics, was
shewn me the silver tables presented by Alphonso the Wise. Beneath
a large tablet of stone in this cathedral lie the remains of the son of
Christopher Columbus — who bequeathed to the church a library of
20,000 volumes, which has since been increased by various donations.
About three o'clock, crowds began to assemble at the Plaza de los Toros,
or the amphitheatre, the exhibition being announced to the public by
bills describing the breed of the bulls and the persons engaged in the per-
formance. Shortly after a company of soldiers marched through the
streets, accompanied by a full band playing some national airs, as, " Tra-
gula, Tragula," which was then the favourite anthem — and entering the
Plaza de los Toros, the band were placed near the box occupied by the
magistracy. A party of dragoons kept the ground. In the meantime,
the amphitheatre was filling rapidly. The boxes were occupied by
families of distinction, and by four o'clock every avenue was completely
crowded. A herald who stood opposite the centre box then sounded
a blast, and immediately the military, who were in the arena, formed in
line and marched from one side to the other, forcing all those persons to
their seats who were not already placed. Directly the arena was cleared
another trumpet announced the approach of the performers in the forth-
coming spectacle. The cortege was preceded by a herald dressed in
black, wearing a short cloak and ruff, with Spanish hat and ostrich
feathers. He was followed by the four picadors mounted and seated in
curious Moorish saddles. They were dressed in jackets superbly em-
broidered with gold and silver, wearing a round straw hat profusely

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 66. 4 I

610 Spanish High-ways and By-ways. £ JUNE,

decorated with bows of ribbons and flowers. Their long hair was con-
fined in a net ; they wore stout buff-leather breeches and boots to defend
them from the horns of the bulls, and carried a long lance in their hands.
These lances, from their peculiar construction, can only penetrate skin-
deep, therefore they rather tend to irritate the animal than injure him.
The bandarillos came next on foot. It is their duty to assist the picador
when dismounted, by diverting the attention of the bull towards them-
selves. They were elegantly attired in embroidered jackets, and wore
long cloaks over their shoulders of different coloured silks. The
matador next followed alone, and is the principal person of the enter-
tainment. He was dressed in a splendid jacket, and wore white silk
stockings and pumps ; he carried in his right hand a naked sword, and
in his left a small red flag. He has to oppose and kill the bull single
handed ; and as his post is the most dangerous, so it is the most honour-
able. After these, came two sets of mules, richly caparisoned, and
adorned with ribbons and flngs, whose duty it is to remove the dead
bulls and horses from the arena. This splendid array entered the arena
amidst the acclamations of the people, and advancing to the city authori-
ties demanded their consent to the forthcoming exhibition. This was
of course instantly granted ; and the keys being thrown into the arena,
were picked up by an attendant, gorgeously attired, when the whole
party, after saluting the magistracy, retired to their respective stations.

The four picadors placed themselves at equal distances in the arena,
and the ten bandarillos dispersed themselves, when on the sound of a
trumpet a door opened opposite the centre or royal box, and out rushed
a tremendously large spotted Andalusian bull. He halted for an instant,
and rolled his eyes around ; then lashing his sides with his tail, he darted
at the nearest picador, who dexterously receiving him on the point of his
lance, repulsed him in his headlong career. This feat elicited rapturous
applause from the spectators ; the ladies waving their handkerchiefs and
the gentlemen clapping their hands. As though to indemnify himself
for this defeat, the animal rushed at the second horseman with addi-
tional fury, and plunging his horns into the body of the horse, over-
threw him and his rider. The third shared the same fate ; and such was
the ferocity of the charge that the bull, with the greatest difficulty, dis-
engaged his horns from the slaughtered animal, tearing and mangling
the body with the most savage fury. The rider was so injured by the
fall that it required the utmost address of the bandarillos to rescue him
from his perilous situation, by lifting him over the fence from the arena.
The bull then attacked the fourth, by which time the other dismounted
picador re-appeared with a fresh horse — the company still expressing
approbation and shouting bueno toro, bueno ioro — t( brave bull, brave
bull!" A trumpet then sounded, and the picadors retired ; when the ban-
darillos advanced to exhibit their address. They were each provided
with six darts, which they endeavoured to fix about the head and neck of
the bull, and the courage and dexterity in accomplishing this without
injury to themselves, drew forth the most vivid marks of satisfaction.
The animal feeling the sting of the darts, became outrageous, and
amongst so many enemies knew not on whom to vent his rage. They
then threw their party-coloured cloaks in his face, and trailing them on
the ground, he rushed after them, tearing and trampling on the silken
vestments in impotent anger. When excited to a state bordering on
madness, foaming at the mouth, and bleeding from every pore, the banda-
rillos suddenly retired, and the matador advanced alone. This was a

1831.] Spanish High-ways and By-ways. 611

period of the most intense interest. The infuriated animal., thus sud-
denly delivered from a crowd of goading tormentors, and seeing but one
enemy opposed to him, seemed to collect his energies for this final
encounter, as though aware of its deadly issue. He rolled his eyeballs
beneath their shaggy brows, with an expression of malignant fierceness
not to be described. * Then tearing up the ground of the arena with his
feet, and uttering a yell that caused the blood to recede to the hearts of
the spectators, he rushed towards his adversary. The matador, intent
on his every movement, waited to receive him ; when waving his sword
above his head, as the infuriated beast swooped his gory horns to rend
his intended victim, he plunged it into his body, between the shoulder
and the ribs, and piercing his heart, with a stifled roar of agony, the poor
animal fell dead on the arena — when the matador bowed, and retired
amidst the reiterated shouts of 12,000 spectators. The mules then gal-
lopped in, and in the space of five minutes the dead bull with the mangled
carcases of the horses were removed, the band during the time playing
several national airs.

The arena being again cleared, a second bull made his appearance,
which shewed good sport, and was followed by six others, which were
all killed to the satisfaction of the company, excepting the last, which
refused to fight. A loud cry o?fuego,fnego, " fire, fire," was raised, when
the bandarillos advanced towards the animal with squibs, crackers, and
other combustibles fixed to their darts, which on their explosion so en-
raged the bull, that when the matador appeared he made as violent a
charge as those that had preceded him. The thrust of the matador was
not mortal, and he narrowly escaped destruction. The wounded animal
plunged madly about the arena, with the sword in his body, which after-
wards fell on the ground, and was again presented to the matador, who
again challenged the bull. An intense silence prevailed throughout this
vast assembly as the matador sought to redeem his character — the spec-
tators anxiously awaiting the result of the next attack- — An old man who
occupied a place beside me in the box, and who I afterwards learnt had
been engaged in many encounters of this nature, now broke out into
violent reproaches against the matador. He condemned his inelegant at-
titudes, and declared, from his conduct altogether, that he was but a pre-
tender. His observations were checked, however, by the bull advancing
to the combat, when the matador vindicated his reputation by laying him
dead at his feet. The old gentleman was not satisfied with this amende
honorable, but proceeded to prove with great energy that such a man
ought not to be allowed to appear in the arena again. He amused me
during the rest of the performance by relating various anecdotes of bull-
fighting, many of which were entertaining, though a little marvellous.
The exhibition closed with fire-works. Four ships attacked a castle sus-
pended across the arena, which, after sustaining a cannonading, blew up
into rockets and different devices, and had a novel and pretty effect. I
went afterwards to the depot, and saw the horses which had been killed
in the different encounters all lying in one place, and the bulls in another.
The flesh of the latter was sold to the poor at the rate of a penny a pound.

Amongst the objects worthy attention in Seville is the Alcazar. This
building was originally a Moorish palace, but was then the residence of
Sir John Downie, who very deservedly experienced the royal favour by
his gallantry in attacking the French on the bridge across the Guadal-
quiver, where he received a severe wound, and was made prisoner ; pre-

4 I 2

6J2 Spanish High-ways and By-ways. [\TuNE,

viously to which, however, he threw the sword he held, which was once
wielded by the conqueror of Peru, across the river, to prevent it falling
into the hands of the enemy. The weapon was afterwards restored to
the gallant soldier by the English, and, as I had the honour of the general's
acquaintance, I had an opportunity of seeing this interesting relic of the
great Pizarro. The manufacture of snuff and tobacco is a royal monopoly
in Spain; and, considering the immense consumption of cigars, must
yield a very large revenue. I was conducted over the manufactory, and
was much gratified with the order which seemed to prevail throughout.
A pungent red snuff, known in England by the name of Spanish, is^made
here ; I saw many thousand bags, containing from one to two hundred
pounds weight each, ready for exportation. But the cigar is the great
source of profit. Every individual in Spain, from the nobleman to the
peasant, appreciates its value. The very beggar will buy a cigar in pre-
ference to bread, and the child, ere he can well speak, will luxuriate on
its fumes. It will not, therefore, be deemed surprising that there are
fifteen hundred people employed in cigar-making in this manufactory. I
always found the good effects of keeping my case well stocked during
my cross-country excursions, for a cigar will secure the good offices of
the lower orders where a more valuable offering might fail. Seville is
an agreeable winter residence, though the summer months are rather too
warm. The society is good; the women lively and agreeable. They
have slender and graceful figures ; their complexion of a clear olive, with
dark and piercing eyes, and remarkable pretty feet. A Spanish pro-
verb says, — " Quien no ha visto a Sevilla — no ha visto maravilla" — he
who has not seen Seville — hath a wonder to see.

I was now prepared to start for the Rio Tinto mines in Estremadura ;
but as my route laid through an unfrequented country, I engaged a
Portuguese as guide. Our horses were in excellent condition after a
week's rest, and loading them as usual with necessaries for the journey,
I left Seville by the south-west bridge across the Guadalquiver. About
six miles from Seville are seen the ruins of the ancient city of Italica, the
birth-place of Trajan. The country around is diversified, and well culti-
vated, promising heavy crops of corn, and continues so the whole way to
the village of San Lucar; where I discovered, by sundry suspicious appear-
ances on the road, that my Portuguese guide was no other than a robber
and an assassin ; it was with some difficulty that I got rid of him, but
was obliged, though sorely against my will, to pay him the whole of his
hire. I lodged that night at the miserable village of Ascacolus, where
the posada contained no second room, so that I preferred passing the
night in an out-house, covered with my horse-clothing, to sharing with
mine host and his family their scanty accommodation. Early next morn-
ing I pursued my way to the Rio Tinto, and very fortunately at a short
distance from the village, overtook two lads, who said they were proceed-
ing to the mines in search of work, having been formerly employed
there ; they were well acquainted with the intricate road, and I therefore
engaged them as guides for the remaining distance. We now entered
into an almost trackless wood, and our road continued over mountains
and wastes; our path being so beset with impediments, as to render our
progress slow and toilsome. For many miles we forced our way through
a thick jungle of underwood, where nothing could be discovered in
prospect, but a succession of sterile mountains rising one above the other,
a most dreary perspective, only affording cover to the wild animals which

1831.] Spanish High-ways and By-ways. 613

find in their recesses a secure retreat. We reached Zalraea in time to
escape the effects of a thunder storm, and at the extremity of the village
discovered the Rio Tinto, near to which laid the mines — the object of my
journey. This river takes its rise from a mountain about a mile distant,
and taking a course of about twenty leagues joins the sea. Guthrie says,
the waters of the Rio Tinto are so saturated with copperas, that it is
destructive to man or beast to drink of them. This remark I found cor-
rect, for the country people informed me the water was never used ;
and if a goat accidentally partook of it, vomiting instantly ensued, and
the animal would never drink of it a second time. The water is deeply
tinged with a yellowish colour, and so is the bed over which it flows.
We crossed the river, which being so near the source, is, in that place,
very shallow, and soon reached the village of Las Minas, inhabited solely
by the workmen of the Rio Tinto mines. In this place, being so completely
out of the route of all travellers, it may be easily supposed the accom-
modation to be procured was not of the first order. We found an
apology for a posada, where at least there was a vacant room to deposit
our horse furniture, and serve as a sleeping place ; and though the house
afforded nothing but common wine, the landlord, Don Patrico Salamanca,
was a. civil, intelligent fellow. I lost no time in calling on the director,
to whom I presented the letter from the minister at Madrid ; the recep-
tion . he £ave me was anything but cordial ; he examined my passport
minutely to ascertain my identity, and seemed reluctant to afford me the
slightest information. Evidently hostile to my mission, he had recourse
to frivolous excuses to stay my inspection, saying the mines were closed,
and the keys were not to be found ; but seeing that I was determined in
my object, he at length desired a man to conduct me. Tapers were then
procured, and we proceeded to the mountain, accompanied by a dozen
or more workmen, with whom I had already had some conversation ; the
entrance to the mine is about midway up the hill, which having reached,
we lighted our torches, and passed under a lofty archway of brick,
about 300 yards in length, which led into one of the galleries of the
mine j here the brick archway terminated, and we continued along the
excavation, until we reached a spacious chamber, around which were
various passages leading to the different workings. The cieling of this
chamber was a most beautiful specimen of natural embellishment ; the
dripping water had formed christals of the most beautiful colours, par-
ticularly green and yellow, which, reflecting the light of our torches,
produced an effect more magnificent than any thing I have ever beheld.
A room inlaid with gems of the finest brilliancy and colours, could only
give an idea of the splendour of this chamber. The walls and the ground
on which we stood, as well as the galleries, were all encrusted with copperas.
Hence we proceeded along one of the passages, and arrived at another
chamber, in the centrfe of which was a pit ; a shaft was sunk from the
surface, for the convenience of drawing up the ore, and afforded light and
air ; I wished to descend the pit, but found it was choked with water,
and the machines of the mine were too imperfect to draw it off. They
had but an old pump of a very antique construction, which required
more labour to work, even when in repair, than they possessed. A steam
engine would have cleared the way in a few hours, but want of money
seemed to be the chief reason for neglecting such valuable works. From
this spot we proceeded along another gallery, but the frame-work by

614 'Spanish High-ways and By-ways. [JuNE,

which it had been originally supported, had in many places given way,
so that our further search became too hazardous to persevere in. I then
employed myself in collecting specimens from the solid mine, pieces of
copperas from the walls, and some of the coloured christals, of which I
have spoken. This mountain seems to be one mass of copper ore, which
yields, as they inform me, between 70 and 80 per cent, of pure metal.
Having satisfied myself of the nature and value of this mine, we
proceeded to visit the water mine, which is a subterranean cavern,
through which the springs of the mountain are conducted. Long troughs
or cisterns are placed across this running stream, in which iron bars are
transversely fixed; on these bar's the copper with which the water is com-
pletely impregnated adheres, and at the end of every fifteen days the
workmen strike off the incrustation, until the bars are consumed and
replaced by others. I collected some specimens of this singular working,
and transmitted them, with the others, to my correspondent at Bristol.
These inexhaustible mountains of ore have been partially worked from
time immemorial. They were not unknown to the Romans, the remains
of whose labours are visible about a mile distant from the present mine.
Their method of working was simple ; they sunk a shaft, from which they
continued to drain as much ore, as by manual labour they could draw
to the surface, until checked by water, or other natural impediments,
when they abandoned the old workings and proceeded to a new one. I
was told that there are upwards of two thousand of these small shafts, and
that many Roman coins have been discovered near the spot. The copper
produced by these mines is cast into plates, and sent to Seville and
Segovia ; that to the former place, prepared for the purpose, to be cast
into cannon — to the latter, of pure metal, for coinage. The object of my
journey being now accomplished, I willingly turned my horse's head
towards Madrid, to render an account of my mission.

PALL-MALL POETRY.

TO : — .

THE world has long pronounced you sensible,

Young, gay, and fair. Your intimates confess,
With envy not less certain than ostensible,

Your mastery in all things but your dress.
Extremes, they say, are ever reprehensible,

That elegance exists not in excess.
They may condemn — / shall not in the line,
My heart thus humbly dedicates to thine.

I own with shame it has been promised long;

I must confess your patience has been great ;
And also that your double note was strong

In terms, concerning it, you should not state
So forcibly. However, right or wrong,

I owe you this, and will at once narrate ;
So, in the dearth of something stern and stately,
I'll sing a circumstance which happened lately.

1831.]

.-,'

7 9
BW ^fli

918

PalLMall Poetry.

'Tis of a lady, who was, by-the-by,

Above the middle size, well made and pretty,
With sparkling eyes, an eyebrow arched and high,
Lively as one could wish, and sometimes witty ;
Which latter quality — and perhaps a sly

Expression lurking, which I'm prone to pity-
Made many a ball-room dangler reckon twice,
When nearing her, before he broke the ice.

Her name — she had a name — was classic STELLA,
Called STEL., for shortness, by her nearer friends,

Who thought her vain, but did not dare to tell her,
As such proceeding frequently offends.

In every thing she was a perfect belle — her
Beaux at least said so — which discussion ends

Upon that point ; and, for this simple fact,

They spoke with more sincerity than tact.

Of perfect form, she danced well, sung, and played,
Spoke French and Spanish fluently, and drew,

Not inferences — for she was afraid

Of them — but flowers of every kind and hue ;

Sketched landscapes, and, in doing so, arrayed
The scene in loveliness so bright and true,

That, gazing there, you hardly could restrict your

Wishes, that Nature was herself a picture.

Feeling she had, but no susceptibility —
Her style of education had destroyed it —

And this, well managed, gave her a facility

To touch the heart, and — more than that — decoyed it.

Nerves she nicknamed sensation's imbecility ;
And never fainted — if she could avoid it;

An interesting languor and dejection

Being more adapted to a clear complexion.

A mother's gentle voice, to guide or cheer,

She never knew. A stranger's hand conducted

Her youthful steps, and trained from year to year
Her opening mind. Of this I'm well instructed,

And probably, although it is not clear,

If what her governess by lure or luck did,

A mother's kindling eye had overlooked,

She might a little hastiness have brooked.

But she (we mustn't grow pathetic) smiled
Upon the babe, and died. Her father felt,

And wept, no doubt, o'er the unconscious child.
He should — the circumstance would make me melt,

Albeit my eyes but seldom are beguiled.
However, as he should do, so he dealt —

Procured a nurse, and then a governess,

Who taught her how to choose a phrase — or dress.

But all at once she changed to grief and gloom,

Shunned all society, and gradually
Lost her lips' tinge and cheeks' engaging bloom.

Her friends — and she had many — grieved to see
So sad a change. Some bolder would presume

And gently hint the cause ; others made free
And questioned her. To all those she accorded
Kind words, but nothing of the grief she hoarded.

615

616 Pall-Mall Poetry < [JUNE,

So it continued nearly through the season

Of (But we will not mention dates — they look

So like a clog ; besides, there's little reason
In speaking, as it were, by bell and book) —

'Till near its close — I think there is no treason ;
When, sitting calmly in some shady nook,

To wish it earlier over, there arrived

An invite j shewing that it still survived.

So common an affair, so lightly reckoned,

And only read to be refused, the change
That overcame her as she gave a second

Glance at the name, her father fancied strange :
For he was with her, and with quickness beckoned

Her maid for salts, to help her to arrange
The sudden tremor, and restore the shattered
Tranquillity the card had somewhat battered.

This soon went off, and in its place a quick

And agitated heaving of the breast —
A hurried word or so — a tone less thick,

Yet still almost inaudible, expressed
A slow but sure recovery. She was sick,

And therefore might be easily distressed.
An invalid, even when her pride preserves
Some form, has easily excited nerves.

Whatever was the cause that made her feel

So awkwardly, so strangely sentimental,
Just at the juncture she had broke the seal,

It was a sharp one — not an accidental
Affair, which any moment may reveal —

But deep and sad. Yet with an oriental
Calmness of style, and hasty exclamation
About the heat, she read the invitation.

She read, and she accepted it, without

The slightest hesitation or remark.
Her father guessed not why, but had his doubt —

Of course because she left him in the dark.
She felt — I'm told it was a bitter bout —

But called, while wending homeward from the Park,
On Madame Frille, marchande de monde de Paris,
To fix the sort of flounce her frock should carry.

It grieves me I can hardly recollect

The fashion she bespoke. There was a — stay,

In such affairs I wish to be correct —
A robe de satin — she was young and gay —

Garnie de blond et — small things to connect —
De marabous ; une coiffeur ornee

Depis de diamans, of which I care not

To vaunt to those who fancy not and wear not.

A robe de tulle, couleur de rose, garnie

D'un bouffant defeuillages de satin, failed
To please her fancy as it should — for she

(At times such sort of foolishness prevailed
To some extent) was whimsical in the

Arrangements of her dress. She somewhat railed
When this was pointed out, and seemed to mock
The lady as she eulogized the frock.

1831.] Pall-Mail Poetry. 617

Now this, for such a temper, and a heart
So sweetly kind, that Methodists might swear

(Except when crossed) its best and brightest part
Was mild contentment gently lingering there,

Appeared most odd. La Marchande gave a start,
Yet bowed her out with her accustomed air ;

But when the door was closed, though it might trench

Upon her manners, swore aloud — in French.

But dressed she was, and whether well or ill,

Tis of no consequence. The carriage rolled
Along the streets ; lame, fracture, bruise, or kill,

No matter, so it flew. I have been told
In confidence — and 'tis a secret still —

One woman only — she was deaf and old —
Was overturned, which, though a trifling matter,
Was kept quite close, because the papers chatter.

'Twould be a work of supererogation

To tell you how at last the carriage gained
The gaping door, amidst the concentration

Of wheels and whips. You would, too, have complained
Of my discretion, had I made narration

Of such known facts. Thus far, then, they attained,
With several hats of most correct expansion,
The entrance-hall of Lady Racket's mansion.

Their names were called, and — as they should — the ladies
Drew back their shoulders as they entered in :

Each gentleman — there but a trifling shade is
Between the two in their attempts to win —

Brushed up his flattened ringlets, and arrayed his
Visage in smiles, the better to begin ;

Whilst several aged dames and dowagers

Sailed, with indifference, up the groaning stairs.

The party was a very brilliant one ; the guests
Were numerous and select. But two were there

(The canker-worm the finest fruit infests)
From Tavistock, and one from Bedford Square ;

A few dull Commoners, whose wealth attests

Their worth j some Honourables, with none to spare,

Increased the crowd ; and here and there a wit —

The last were scarce, and watched to make a hit.

A pair of Blues — my lady was a Blue —

Were also there, who scribbled for the town,
Made love chime in with dove, true rhyme with you,

With much discernment and some small renown.
These, with a critic, and a youth or two

Whose next edition could not fail to crown
Them as the spirits of the age, decided
On most things as they should, and some derided.

To paint the crowd, however, one by one,

My space forbids ; and so I shan't describe
Dozens, on whose time-honoured heads the sun

Of Fashion always shone. A gayer tribe
Had seldom met, and many who had run

(A taste for which .we easily imbibe)
In debt to shew it, or by chance away
With a friend's wife, asserted what I say.
M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 66. 4 K

618 Pall-Mali Poetry. JUNE,

Now few of these but bowed as STELLA passed ;

The critic smiled, and made some flattering speech,
Full well repaid him by the glance she cast

Of proud acknowledgment. The authors each
Commenced — a something pretty, from their last

Production ; yet, ere well the words could reach
Her ear, and charm it with the happy thought,
The Lady Racket cut the matter short.

This lady had a son — a peevish boy

I've heard, in childhood always spoilt and crying,

But still his mother's pride and greatest joy ;
Her eyes above (the nurse on this relying,

Smuggled the chin in) did most folks decoy,
To praise a likeness to their guess replying ;

Though some, who spoke at hazard, differing rather,

Declared he was the image of his father.

At school he passed for an extremely quick

And clever lad. At college he became
Its pride and boast. He shone at single-stick,

And with the best at billiards had a name ;
And if at Euclid he might chance to kick,

His tact in horse-flesh might a jockey shame;
Added to which, he learned to pun at random,
Make up a book, set-to, and tool a tandem.

In youth a man ; as man, at twenty-three,

He formed opinions far beyond his years,
Discoursed most wisely, took a good degree,

And quizzed his reverend tutors for their fears :
His boots were Hoby, and his coat Nugee ;

His voice the kind which, heard, at once endears.
With these slight gifts, and divers sorts of knowledge
They pick up best there, he retired from college.

How STEL. became acquainted with the youth
Cannot much signify ; they were acquainted :

Let that suffice — it is the simple truth,

And looks, as such, less sorrowful than sainted.

Her maid (to suit my rhyme) was christened RUTH —
As nice a girl as ever poet painted,

So I've been told ; and she — it was auricular —

Confessed to my informant this particular.

Indeed, 'twas strongly hinted, his attentions

Went far beyond a 'lazy bow or bend ;
But these are frequently the world's inventions,

And we should doubt — unless a female friend,
Or dowager with single daughters, mentions

That so it is, I wait to see the end.
The former may be right — the last, from long
Observance of such matters, cant be wrong.

I cannot say — perhaps from little caring —

Nor guess — being inexperienced in affairs
Of this description — the peculiar bearing

Of lovers for each other. He who cares
May try the question. I am not for daring

A father's frown, or fair one's teasing airs ;
Or brother, in the absence of papa,
Begging to know what your intentions are.

1831.] Pall-Mall Poetry. 619

The lady laughed and flirted with the men —
No proof, you'll say, such love was hers to hide —

Flattered the author's, praised the critic's pen,
And drew by turns, each lounger to her side.

In fact, I'm told it really happened then,

So far from deeming love her heart had tried,

She made a sudden set, betwixt the sets,

And carried off— a pair of epaulettes.

In short, to such a .pitch was this flirtation

Carried, that all who saw the couple said
It was a match. By this, and by relation,

The circumstance with fresh additions spread.
The day was fixed — it caused a slight sensation ; -

The dresses made, and marriage contracts read ;
When, all at once, the tale that was afloat,
To every one's surprisal changed its note.

Great alterations (these we daily read of),

By trifling things, are made in our concerns ;
A goose- — a watchful and a sacred breed of —

Saved Rome ; the story every school-boy learns.
Our heroine's lot was changed — now this take heed of —

By (I would hint, when love no longer burns,
They make a healing mixture from the poppy)
A note, of which the following is a copy : —

" 'Tis not to blame you, STELLA, I address—

" Alas ! that so it is — this parting line ;
" The weakness few could strive with and suppress

" Deserved a punishment — the fault was mine —
'• Which ends the sweetest dream of happiness,

" And bids me every cherished hope resign.
" I shall not murmur at my lot, nor swell
" With one word of reproach this last farewell !

" They say you wed another. Be it so.

" Your friends approve, and why should I regret ?
" If you are happy — this at least you know —

" My wish is answered. I've but to forget,
" If it may be, and bend me to a blow

" Not all deserved. The trial must be met,
tf And pride — the thought is madness ! — put in train
" To look the lie to feelings that enchain.

" I sought you, loved you, lived for you alone,
" To you my every earthly thought was given ;

" My heart — could not its agonies atone ? —

" By love, and only love, was swayed and driven.

" The slight might move, but not teach to disown,
" The pledge you gave should not for this be given ;

(< My true affection wrought my jealousy,

" And winged the shaft which now recoils on me !

" STELLA, farewell! the joy I cannot share

" I must not witness. Far away, and free,
" To other lands the wanderer must bear

" The fate he finds. Blessed may you ever be !
" My first — my fondest wish — my latest prayer

" Shall spring for this in life's last agony.
" Reproach me, blame me — yet thus far believe,
" When most it loved, my heart did most deceive."
4 K 2

620 Pall-Mail Poetry. [JUNE,

Now how this sweet effusion was received,

I cannot say : I heard, in confidence,
Her bright eyes moistened, and her bosom heaved

With sweet sensations not yet banished thence ;
Till with a sigh or two at length relieved,

She kissed the scrawl, and, more in penitence
Than grief or wrath, put it securely by,
In a small russia note-case lying nigh.

But be that as it may, the effect this letter

Had on her conduct was soon seen. The papers,

Some three months after this receipt, or better,
(My Muse is often troubled with the vapours,

And little cares for dates when they beset her,)
Announced, with some unusual cuts and capers —

Which, had I power, I'd banish in a trice hence —

Her marriage to the youth by special licence 1

The Post 's was a superior piece of diction,

And made upon me then a deep impression :
The words were sweet, and flowed without restriction

In most mature and elegant succession.
But time glides on — this is at least no fiction —

And deadens all things in a due progression,
Or nearly all : a scolding wife, perhaps,
Is rarely altered by its loss or lapse.

'Twas in this style—" The bride was richly dressed,

" Une robe brodee, de point de I' Angleterre,
" Aveo des manches tres longues" — the le had best

Have been left out ; but printers little care
For nice constructions, so the thing's expressed —

(f Une jupe de satin blanc" — for show and wear —
" Avec souliers du meme ;" the latter rankle
Somewhat when coupled with a clumsy ankle.

" Her head was circled by a wreath of flowers,

White as the fresh-fallen snow. From these depended

Longues barbes de blond, no phrase, we know, of ours —
Unless the language had been much amended^—

Can well describe. They spoke the highest power
Of art, and raised th' effect that was intended.

The whole was Madame Frill's, and well supported

The fame for which her services are courted." G. H.

1831.] [ 621 ]

MY NEW LODGINGS.

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!

BKATTIK.

IT is superfluous to expatiate on the advantages of a quiet, unmolested
study to a reading or writing man. Splendid works of genius have
been conceived and born in the silence of the dungeon ; monuments of
learning have been reared in the still seclusion of tfre cloister ; Cervantes,
Raleigh, with a host of monks and fathers, are famed for the literary
wonders which they wrought in gloom and solitude ; but what age, or
what country, can produce an instance of talent developing itself in a
mill, or intellect attaining its full stature in a seminary for young ladies ?
While Tasso lay in the bedlam of Ferrara, he never added a stanza or
threw a single new beauty over his " Gerusalemme." Demosthenes
studied his godlike art in a cell under ground ; he never forged so
much as a single thunderbolt in his father's smithy ; and the Oracle
would never have pronounced Socrates " wisest of men," had he not had
" the olive-grove of Academe" for a retreat from the din of Xantippe's
tongue. There are undoubtedly sounds, and even noises, which seem
to harmonize with the pursuits of learning. Is the collegian disturbed
by his college-bell ? Quite the reverse. So long have the reading and
ringing, the thinking and tolling, gone on together, that, were the
steeple suddenly struck dumb, the most melancholy confusion might be
the consequence : a right line might be mistaken for a curve — a logical
proposition for its direct converse — or (which were infinitely worse) his
moral speculations might be so disordered that wrong might appear
right, and a bottle in his chambers be preferred to a lecture in the hall.
Then there are babbling brooks, dashing surges, whispering winds, and
whistling blackbirds — a respectable family of noises. But what shall
we say of squalling children, braying donkeys, scolding wives, creaking
doors, snoring nurses, and rattling windows? In no department of
learning are these of the slightest service. Students protest against them
with one accord ; and doctors — who never agreed on any other point-
agree in denouncing the squeaking of a pig under a gate —

" Poor swine ! as if its pretty heart would break !"

as glorious John Dryden expresses it. In short, it has become a prin-
ciple in the republic of letters, that nothing great was ever said or sung
with a continual dinning in the immediate precincts of the author's
sanctum-sanctorum. It has been my misfortune to have had this truth
illustrated so remarkably in my own individual case, that, painful as
the recollections are, I am tempted to lay the circumstances before the
public in the present article. If they answer no other purpose, they
will serve as valuable hints to literary men in the selection of their
places of abode.

About six weeks or two months back, I took up my residence, as
lodger, in the house of a respectable tailor. The street is immaterial ;
but it was in that debateable region, east of Portland-place, and north of
Oxford-street. This tailor, not having the fear of Malthus before his

622 My Nerv Lodgings. £JuNE,

eyes, had, with the co-operation of a buxom wife, augmented the popu-
lation of the country by seven male and female " innocents," who, I
verily believe, had escaped small-pox, measles, chin-cough, and all the
other maladies of infancy, for the sole purpose of murdering my repose,
and defrauding society of the fruits of my studies and lucubrations.
Seven devils incarnate could not have plagued me more efficiently. Their
fond parents called them " their little angels ;" and such certainly they
were, according to the literal acceptation of that passage in the Liturgy
— ;ft cherubim and seraphim continually do cry ;" for a perpetual concert
it truly was of mewling, piping, sobbing, bawling, and all the melodies
of the nursery, with more variations than Beethoven and Rossini between
them ever composed. They managed never to be all asleep at the same
time ; two or three were always on duty ; and most effectively did the
pretty little ones perform it. In the course of a short month, the literary
world sustained damage, in consequence of the life I led at the tailor's,
to the amount of ten sonnets, fifteen epigrams, seven serious, six comic,
and five serio-comic prose essays, with three political articles, some of
which I never trusted out of my desk ; while those which were " cast
upon the waters" returned invariably to their author, after having ob-
tained for themselves and him such flattering notices as the following :

" ' Fortunatus' is not fortunate enough to please us." — " The writer
who subscribes himself * * *, is not sufficiently starry for our pages." —
" The author of the paper against Taxes upon Knowledge is unreason-
able ; it will be some time before the collector calls upon him"

That I was indebted for these editorial urbanities to the tailor's pro-
geny, I am prepared to verify by affidavit; nay, I could actually appor-
tion to each of the " little dears" the share he or she had in occasioning
my disasters. All the time I was composing the verses signed " For-
tunatus," one of the young gentlemen was blowing a penny trumpet,
and his charming sister trying a new skipping-rope, in the room imme-
diately over mine. I only wonder the verses were not attributed to Mr.

R. M y. Another pair was struggling and screaming under the

operation of the comb and towel, just at the precise moment the unfor-
tunate article with the three stars was on the anvil : it was an ill-starred
production as a matter of course. The failure of my political specula-
tions is to be divided equally amongst the remaining trio, whose never-
ceasing contests about the property of an unlucky kitten led to the
cat-astrophe of my " Taxes upon Knowledge." In fact, the only compo-
sition of any merit that came from my pen during this unhappy period,
was an Essay on Infanticide, in which I think I have rested the defence
of that practice upon grounds that it will not be easy to impugn. But
the time is not yet come for promulgating so bold a doctrine to the
world.

There is nothing I hate so much as the trouble of changing my domi-
cile ; but the dread of having my swan again mistaken for a goose, pre-
vailed over my inhabitive propensity ; so, having given the man of the
shears due notice, I struck my camp in the midst of a full chorus, which
the infant Stentors seemed to have set up on purpose for the occasion — I
suppose to send me on my way rejoicing ; and a few hours saw me regu-
larly installed in My Nerv Lodgings, where I had previously assured
myself, by the most rigorous investigation, that there was not a child,
either in esse, or in posse, upon the premises— my landlady being a
maidenly dame of threescore and ten years, and no other lodger in the

1831.] My New Lodgings. 623

house, except " a respectable, quiet gentleman," who occupied, in the
golden estate of a bachelor, the apartment immediately joining mine
upon the same floor. " No children?" was the sole interrogatory I put.
I put it with the air of a plenipotentiary propounding his ultimatum.
The answer was in the negative, and the bargain was concluded.

When the door was shut, and my chair drawn close to a comfortable
fire, the sensations I experienced were of the most enviable nature.
After one retrospective glance at my late miserable situation, my pre-
sent felicitous circumstances passed in review before me; I fancied
myself in Paradise, and formed a hundred literary projects to retrieve my
reputation and recruit my purse. I would run no risk in future of hav-
ing my verses ascribed to the poet of Oxford, or any other bardling of
the day ; I would be a constant and brilliant contributor to the
" Monthly Magazine ;" my random rays and scintillations I would throw
to other periodicals ; perhaps I would even produce a novel, the appear-
ance of which would be an epoch in English literature, like the publica-
tion of Waverley. — It is a question, I continued, whether I should give
my name at once to the world, or become another " Great Unknown/'
Another difficulty suggested itself. My portrait will be solicited for some
gallery of living literary characters ; perhaps I had better sit to Rothwell
at once — or, quere, would it not be more eclcitant to refuse — refuse them
my countenance ! They will press me, of course — I will be peremptory,
fierce, inflexible. But suppose a hundred pounds offered to overcome
my scruples — how should I act ? Would it look mercenary to take the
money ? A hundred pence would be a great matter at present — my
malison on the tailor's lady ! I'll agree — they shall have it for the hun-
dred.— Oh ! but I forget my novel— I shall not want a paltry hundred
pounds. If I consent to be engraved, it will therefore be out of pure
magnanimity— to encourage literature and the arts. — But this is wan-
dering ; let me think of an article for next month. Thank Heaven !
here is no wilderness of squalling brats to distract me. This is just the
place — just the place for an author. Gibbon ! I do not envy you your
bower by Lake Leman. Simeon the Stylite ! I do not grudge you the
summit of your famous pillar in the solitudes of Syria ! Here I have
all the solitude, quiet repose, silence What noise was that ?

The sound which broke my soliloquy, and occasioned this abrupt
interrogatory, was a note of a flute from the ' f respectable, quiet gentle-
man" in the adjoining apartment. " A flute-player !" I ejaculated in a
tone very different from that of my former musings — " my next-room
neighbour is a flute-player \" It was not until that moment that I par-
ticularly noticed a door which actually communicated between our
quarters. The door, to be sure, was locked ; but Bramah himself can-
not lock out sounds. My first impressions, therefore, on hearing the
note of the flute, were like those of one who, couching on roses, discovers
an adder preparing to sting him. The thought, however, soon occurred
that it would be only a tune or two — three at the utmost ; and it was
fortunate to have a " respectable, quiet gentleman" for a neighbour on
no harder terms than three airs on the flute, even were the performance
to be daily repeated. With this reflection I laid down my pen, threw
myself serenely back on my chair, and resolved to wait en philosopke
until my melodious neighbour had taken his innocent recreation. " The
day," said I, parodying a speech of Uncle Toby, " is long enough both
for him and me." I listened. It is possible, as my friends know, to be

(324 My New Lodgings.

more of a musician than 1 am, without endangering the supremacy of
Handel or Mozart. I pretend not to the mysteries of the flat ninth, or
diminished seventh — but I know a crotchet from a quaver ; and a few
seconds informed me that the unseen instrumentalist had yet to reach
that measure of proficiency. Now the vicinity of a flute-player was bad

enough in all. conscience ; but a flute-learner If it were polite to

swear in a magazine, I would let you know my sentiments of a flute-
learner ! Still I determined to <f bide my time." A quarter of an hour's
practice, methought, will content him ; and the deuce is in it if the resi-
due of the twenty-four hours is not enough for me. A quarter of an
hour is often but a brief space. To me — condemned to hear harmony
murdered in the next room, with nothing but a pannel half an inch
thick between me and the murderer ; and my situation aggravated by the
remembrance that my pen was idle the while, and all the bright thoughts
which I had just collected into a focus to dazzle the world, in imminent
danger of dispersion — to me it appeared a quarter of a century. You
have heard, perhaps, a beginner on the flute, or some other instrument ?
Time and tune set at defiance ; flats, sharps, and naturals in as beautiful
confusion as chairs in a fashionable drawing-room j the performer as
ignorant of the gamut as, a peer of political economy; tones and semi-
tones, quavers and semi-quavers all alike ; no standing upon such
trifles. Altogether, I believe, it is comparable to nothing but to Discord
herself executing a solo at a musical festival in Pandemonium. When
the fifteen minutes were elapsed, I dipped my pen in the ink-stand. The
ink dried, and the practising still went on. Vexation muttered, " uncon-
scionable !" Patience whispered, " give him another quarter of an hour !"
I agreed, in hopes of getting quarter myself in return. But no! I was
at the mercy of a ruthless enemy. The second half-hour commenced its
course ; but no intermission, except while the leaves of the music-book
were turning. Once there was a little delay in performing this opera-
tion : two leaves, I suppose, were turned instead of one. My pen was
once more in the ink-stand ; but before it could reach the paper, the
mistake was corrected, and the indefatigable practiser was on his way
again, in full career after luckless music, whom he worried like a true
sportsman, thinking as little (to borrow a pun from Geoffrey Crayon) of
clearing five or six bars at a leap, as a fox-hunter in the heat of the
chase. I was now wrought to a pitch of -frenzy, and resolved to leave
the house instantly ; but, alas ! how often

" the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought !"

I had taken the apartment by the month ; and, in my horror of children,
I had never dreamed of making a proviso against musicians. Of course,
there was no alternative but to submit to be practised to death, or pay a
month's rent for a day's lodging — a course, which the editorial civilities
above mentioned dissuaded me from taking by that powerful mode of
reasoning, called an argumentum ad crumenam.

At length it ceased ! — but the spirit of composition had evaporated ;
my neighbour's flute had produced the effect of Gideon's pitchers and
trumpets on my cogitations ; and on reviewing the ideal host, with
whose aid I had meditated the gathering of so many laurels, so many of
my thoughts were on the missing-list — not to speak of those which had
actually perished in the din — that it was impossible to proceed a step

1831.] t My New Lodgings. 625

until I had raised new recruits, or given the stragglers time to return to
their ranks. This was not the work of a few minutes. It required much
walking up and down the room, much scratching of the head, much
thumping of the table, and much mending of the pen. At length they
began to rally : one leading idea came so near within my reach, that I
laid hold of and secured it. " Aha !" I exclaimed, " I have got you at
last ; and to make sure of you, down you go on paper this very instant ;
down you go ; the world shall have you — all the flutes in the kingdom
to the contrary notwithstanding." A single sentence from the next
room defeated my purpose and defrauded the world. — " It is just Signer
Ritornelli's time ; I think I am almost perfect in that sonata/' Sig-
rior Ritornelli's time ! blissful announcement ! What heinous sin had I
perpetrated to incur s'uch a visitation ? I went through the deca-
logue.

My next step was to settle my account, low as my finances were, and
sally forth in quest of a new lodging. " Well !" said I to myself,
" experientia docet. Musicians are as much to be dreaded by a literary
man as children. I shall insert clauses against both in my next agree-
ment." It cost me a good deal of perambulation to combine the two
conditions. In the first house I entered, a young lady in the parlour
was practising the ff Battle of Prague ;" she had just arrived at " the
cries of the wounded !" That, you know, would never answer ; so I
crossed the street to another house with " Lodgings for Single Gentle-
men'' upon the windows. A dame opened the door, surrounded with as
numerous a litter as Virgil's " sow of imperial augury," or the wife of
a country curate. The apartments, of course, were not exactly to my
mind. The drawing-room window of the third was open ; and a voice
as sonorous as that of the Hermit of Copmanhurst, thundering his De
profundis, was roaring, " Oh ! no, we never mention her," to a guitar
which semed to be cracking its strings to maintain its rightful place in
the performance. Several more attempts were equally unsuccessful.
But — to be brief — by dint of perseverance, I ultimately lighted upon
" exactly the thing I wanted." There was no child, male or female ;
neither flute, fiddle, nor so much as a jew's-harp from kitchen to attic ;
and, to crown all, my landlord was not only a bachelor, but a man of the
pen like myself, and of course personally concerned to have a studious
silence preserved upon his premises. I had it from his own lips —
" Dabble a little in ink now and then — the c cacoethes loquendi,' you
know — take for granted, Sir, if I may take the liberty, you are a literary
man as well as myself?" I nodded assent, though I should rather have
been fraternized by a better classical scholar. But was this a time to be
hypercritical ? Here was every thing I . wanted — a residence fit for
Silence herself; the street was a eul-de-sac : and so deep was the repose
of my new apartments, that " the tiniest mouse that creeps on floor"
could not journey across them unperceived.

My first day in My New Lodgings I neither read nor wrote a syllable
— not that my library took a long time to arrange, or my wardrobe
either : the former is anything but a dubia ccena ; and the latter might
vie with that of Curran, when he wrote to his mother for a supply of
eleven shirts, assuring her that in college every gentleman had a dozen.
But it was business enough for one day to contemplate the various
agremens of the quiet little creek where I had at length cast anchor,
and refit my shattered bark for a more prosperous voyage. It was not,

M. M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. G6. 4 L

626 My New Lodgings. [J u NB

therefore, until after breakfast on the second day (I never could compose
before breakfast), that, ordering myself to be denied lo all the world (a
pulpit would hold the entire circle of my acquaintance in London !), I
sat me down, in all the dignity of authorship, to my literary labours. The
influence of an able writer over his species pressed itself irresistibly on
my mind. I mused upon the famous aphorism, " knowledge is power ;"
and was quoting the lines of Byron-—

" But words are things ; and a small drop of ink,

Falling like dew upon a thought, produces

That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think."

when a tap at the door caught my ear. I instinctively said, " Come in !"
— and my landlord entered, smirking and scraping, with an immense
bundle of papers under his left arm.

All my visions of glory vanished into thin air ! Against flutes and
families I had taken every precaution ; but the peril of a politico-lite-
rary landlord had never once entered my head !

His face, in which self-complacency made a comical effort to look like
diffidence, was sufficient to inform me that there subsisted between him
and the said papers some very near and dear relationship. But he left
no doubt upon the subject. " An humble attempt, Sir \" said he, laying
on the table, as he spoke, a manuscript of at least a hundred pages of
closely- written letter-paper ; " an humble attempt, Sir, to which I
humbly beg to solicit your favourable attention. We literary men, Sir
—if I may presume to make so bold — must assist each other. It is
entitled, you will observe, < A Political Panorama of the British
Empire* — most important at the present crisis. Perhaps, if I may make so
bold, you will do me honour to give it one or two careful perusals — any
time in the course of the day ; your candid opinion will oblige me. I
flatter myself it will meet your approbation, as it has, I assure you, met
that of Mr. , a member of the Imperial Parliament, my most parti-
cular friend. Perhaps you know Mr. ?"

Peruse a hundred pages of solid pamphlet ! It was well for my land-
lord my organs of combativeness, and his of self-esteem, were not equally
developed. But great provocations have frequently a tranquillizing
effect : ladies who storm when a single cup falls, are serene when a whole
service is dashed to pieces. So it was with me. I replied composedly
that I was at present occupied with indispensable business ; but, if he
would leave his MS., I would look over it when I was at leisure.
It would not do ; I was obliged to listen to the " Table of Contents." That
was not enough — there were two chapters to which he wished to call
my attention — he would just run over them for me, if I had no objec-
tion. I had every objection in the world ; but I was happy to com-
pound for a preface of a dozen pages. The text was bad enough, but
the oral comment was still worse ; and even this was not so trying to
my patience as the apologies that accompanied it. He begged my par-
don for digressing ; hoped he had not interrupted the thread of the
argument ; and kindly offered to go back again, if it were necessary ! I
now rose from my chair. He appeared to take the hint, and moved a
step or two towards the door. I occupied the ground thus abandoned,
and kept it. It was impossible, however, to prevent him from laying
hold of one of my coat-buttons. Men of business ought either to wear
no buttons, or take care to have their edges sharp and serrated, as a

1831.] My New Lodgings. 627

security against bores of all descriptions, but particularly politicians.
While in this " durance vile/' I was solicited to give " my candid
opinion on the affairs of Poland." As you may conjecture, the request
was only pro forma, and intended not to extract my sentiments, but to
introduce his own. <f If I may presume to offer the opinion of so hum-
ble an individual as myself/' he proceeded, lowering his voice almost to a
whisper, and looking oracular, (< the Poles would never have taken up
arms against Russia, if they had not had some hopes of success /" In
his triumph at being delivered of so sagacious a remark, he forgot him-
self so far as to let go my unfortunate button. The advantage was not
to be lost ; I gained two steps more upon my political persecutor, and
this brought him within a few inches of the door ; I then opened it
myself, and growling a good morning, left him no alternative but to
evacuate the apartment. My ferocity, however, seemed only to excite
his good-nature. As he withdrew — a movement he performed as reluc-
tantly as a hunted wolf retires from his prey — he expressed his determi-
nation to avail himself often of the pleasure of my conversation ; drop-
ped something about kindred spirits ; and intimated he had several other
literary works on which he would take leave to solicit my opinion — not,
however (he was considerate enough to add), until I had read and
digested the " Political Panorama !"

I had endured the tailor's family, and even the flute-player, without
ever once thinking of delivering myself from my troubles by suicide.
Now, however, that dreadful idea rushed into my mind ; and I tremble
to confess how long it occupied it. A literary landlord is certainly the
climax of human miseries. The next thought was a country curacy,
and this was succeeded by a determination to take my passage for Ame-
rica in the course of the evening. In the silent and pathless forests of
the new world, I would be in no danger from bores — at least of the
human species. How many more wild projects chased each other
through my agonized brain, I cannot recollect — for I was in a state of
desperation, pacing the room with the gait of a maniac, cursing the day
I was born, and the folly of my friends, who had induced me to come to
London, assuring me it was the only place for an author. — Yet who
could have supposed that there is no such thing as a quiet lodging in all
this vast metropolis ?

FATHER MURPHY S SERMON ON THE ELECTIONS AND PROSPECTS

OF IRELAND.

THAT we are in the confidence of the Irish priesthood, our readers
will long since have taken for granted. The revelations we have made
from time to time touching their habits, character, and individual
merits, will have abundantly shewn the trust they repose in us. But
since we have thrown sturdy Old Mag. into the scale against Mal-
thus, the Irish priests are actually in ecstacies with us. They are to a
man anti-Malthusians. For many years they have opposed themselves
in modest obscurity to the " preventive check/' and laboured all they
could, within the sphere of their local influence, to arrest the progress
of that unsocial theory. Indeed, the population in the Catholic dis-
tricts of Ireland affords prolific proofs of the active effects of the priestly
office. We think we may boldly assert, without fear of contradiction,

4 L 2

Father Murphy's Sermon on [JUNE,

that owing to the energetic agency of the clergy, the doctrines of Mr.
Malthus, however they may make proselytes elsewhere, will never pre-
vail to any considerable extent in Ireland. The priests are wise in their
day. They make hay while the sun shines — whether superfecundity
exist now, or is to exist hereafter, are not questions in their dogmatical
statistical metaphysics. On the contrary ; they hold superfecundity to
be impossible, and are, very naturally, delighted with us, because we
eptertain the same opinion, and publish it to the world, which they can-
not do so conveniently.

Being thus, as it were, one of themselves, OLD MAG. comes in occa-
sionally for a snatch of the good things that are going. Whenever
there is a glorious to-do on saints' days, or festivals, OLD MAG., bound
superbly, and lettered in gold, as THE PRIEST'S MAGAZINE, is placed
at the head of the table under a cover, which is no sooner removed than
the ghostly company, standing, chaunt a preliminary stave, full of com-
pliments to us, which alone prevent us from shewing in what excellent
verse the priesthood delighteth. In these bustling times, a greater
degree of excitement than usual prevails at both sides of the water ; and
much as we are indebted to the zeal, activity, intrepidity, and intelli-
gence of our English correspondents in all quarters of the island, we
must confess that they yield in these qualities, and many others not to
be named here, to our ecclesiastical friends in Ireland. To them we
owe, amongst many rare documents that may hereafter be laid before
our readers, the following admirable sermon recently delivered by
Father Murphy, in the somewhat dilapidated, but pleasant little cow-
house of a chapel that stands on the height, well known as the Devil's
Rock, in St. Peter's parish — one of the most remote of the western
districts.

Father Murphy is " a strong man." He stands, in his stocking feet,
six feet three inches. He can hurl, play spoil the fire, wrestle either
with mortal man or the devil himself, drink whiskey-punch to an inde-
scribable extent, and preach, extempore, for an hour and better on any
text you please, at a moment's notice. In the present delicate crisis of
public affairs, he yields his own scruples to the demands his country
has upon his genius. He would be wholly apostolical if he could, but
he is forced now and then to guide his willing flocks into the proper
paths of politics as well as purgatory ; but he wields the weapon of
controversy gracefully, and never lendeth himself to the passions of the
day. Here is his recent discourse on the Elections, and the prospects
of Ireland. It will be seen with what genuine philanthropy he opens
and in what a spirit of Christian meekness he concludes. Happy Ire-
land ! that is blessed with pastors like unto Murphy ; and still more
fortunate Reform that hath such advocates.

We should premise that the chapel, in which this discourse was
delivered, stands on a naked rock that bettles over the sea. Like most
Irish chapels that are begun without money in hand, and never finished
with money in hand, this chapel is, in fact, no chapel at all. It has
walls and half a roof — some piles of stones for an altar — huge tin
sconces for chandeliers and candlesticks — and is covered within with
mixed ornaments of plaster of Paris, patches of coloured paper, palm-
branches, bits of glass, fragments of delf and pottery, and sundry
dazzling relics — such as brass buttons, bulls' eyes, centre bits of check-
aprons, horses' teeth, fancy crosses, crucifixions, resurrections, and

1 831 .] the Elections and Prospects of Ireland. 629

innumerable pictorial modifications in red, blue, green, and yellow, of
the life of the Saviour — all stuck indiscriminately on and into the walls.
But beyond these manifestations of the true faith, our chapel presents
few evidences of the holy uses to which it is dedicated. In lack of a
proper, well-proportioned, and decent cross, wherewith its front should
have been surmounted, it is rather rudely crowned over the place where
there ought to be a door with a withered furze bush, that might have
once resembled the form of a cross, but has now neither " shape nor
feature." The interior is so small, that the people assembled to hear
Father Murphy, for on this occasion there was a grand convocation,
are spread out on every side ; some hang on the tops of the walls, others
clamber up to the holes intended for windows, and multitudes crowd
up the passages designed for ingress and egress. Such was the scene
in which the following exposition of the immediate affairs of Ireland
was delivered : —

FATHER MURPHY'S ELECTION SERMON.

You are all called here together to day, boys, in regard of the
word of truth, and the rights of ould Ireland. Mind what I say to you.
The sorrow's the use of my spaking what's all as one as gospel, unless
you attind to me, and go away with something in your heads that a
comb couldn't take out.

Did you ever hear of one Sir Joseph Yorke ? To be sure you didn't ;
I'll answer for you. Now, I want to shew you how quare things come
about, and how them that speaks agin the blessed sod, more or less, are
sure of coming in for their ha'purth of shame one day or another. Sir
Joseph Yorke was a mimber of Parliament, and a rolicking fellow he
was, that thought no more of saying what kem uppermost in his mouth,
than you would think of making a bowl of broth out of a bull turkey
and a whisp of cabbage. Well, this Sir Joseph Yorke once took it into
his ould noggin to tell them in the House of Commons, that there was
only one way to settle Ireland — and what way do you think that was?
I suppose poor sowls, you think he told them to send us over plenty to
eat and to drink, and enough of money to swear by, and something over.
It's there you're out, every mother's son of you. No such thought was
upon him ; but I'll tell you what he told them. " Take Ireland," says
he (just as if it was a sod of turf, or a lump of a stone, or a dead dog),
"and souse it under the water of the sea for four- and- twenty hours, and
I'll be bound," says he, slapping the table with his dirty hand, " that
when you take it up again, it will be as quiet as a mouse/' Och ! then,
boys, did you ever hear the like o' that since the creation of the world ?
Sure enough, you'd be as quiet as mice if you were buried under water
for half the time ; but you see he forgot in regard of the church, that
it wasn't in him to drown the Holy church, which couldn't be drowned,
or burnt, or turned upside down, or molested in any manner whatever,
by him or any of his sort ; and if he had daared to sink ould Ireland,
the cross of the world would rise up through the water if it was twice
as deep, and the clargy would come up along with it, and they'd walk
over the sea ever until they'd come to England, and there they'd make
such a tearing ruction about their ears, that they'd soon be glad to fish
up the place agin, and put it just where they found it, without as much
as a rint of an ould skreed of grass upon it. Well, but what happens
this same Yorke the other day, boys ? Now, I give you leave to guess

630 Father Murphy's Sermon on f JUNE,

antil you won't have as much of a guess left in you, as'd shew the way
from this to Terry Phelan's blind mill beyont the bridge. Why, what
do you think should happen him, but that instead of drowning ould
Ireland, which he couldn't drown, an' let him try his best, he was
drownded himself th'other day as easy and complete as you please, while
he was out pleasuring himself in the middle of as fine a morning as
ever was seen in the habitable globe. Not a word of lie I'm telling
you, but the plain truth. And isn't it thrue for me, after this terrible
lesson, that them that speaks ill of the country will come to the bad at
last. Down he went like a brick-bat from an ould house that was
tumbling, and there was no more heard of him, of course, by reason of
his being drownded entirely. Isn't that to teach you how you lend
yourselves to speeches and hard words upon the mother of you all, and
to prove that it isn't for the likes of you to turn thraitors, when even
them that are not belonging to you at all arn't safe in their beds, or in the
road, or on the land, or the water, by day or by night, when they throw
the dirty slander upon the blessed sod. Sure, when the poor wanderer
that suffered for many a long day in foreign places kem home in the long
run, and his people wouldn't know him, or help him, or do a kind
turn for him, because they got proud, and turned their backs upon ould
times, the murrain kum immediately upon the cattle of them, and the
children died away like rotten stalks, and the ould fell sick, and there
wasn't as much as a tester left to bury them, nor a sowl to keen
over the dead. And here's the song of the poor crethur that kum home,
and was refused a bit df bread at the door — it's all from Scripture,
boys, and as thrue as you're there—

" Ireland's eye ! — the world's wunther! —
Roorke's daughter that was married to Thunther !"

Roorke, you see, was the man that shut the door in the poor crethur's
face.

" Ireland's eye !" — [Tm reading it agin.]] — " the world's wunther !

Roorke's daughter that was married to Thunther !

I called down to see you, neighbours, nigh the sea brink,

But not one among you had the goodness for to offer me a drink."

That's a parable, Mrs. Doyle, and I'm glad to see the tears standin' in
your eyes upon the hearing of it. Never a curse of the kind will kum
upon you if you only do what's right, and shame the divil.

The next thing I have to say to you — and I hope you'll pay attention
to me — [I don't care if I do help you out with that same side of bacon
that's breaking its heart in the chimney these three months, Shamus
Langan — mind to send me a piece soon, by way of a sample.] — What was
I going to say ? Ay, so I was. Well, you know, boys, there's a general
election all over the country, and the king's writs are coming down to us
as fast as beast can carry them, and every man that has a vote in the
place is to come forward and vote for the king.

Now isn't it the wonder of the world to hear me, Father Murphy,
that's teaching you these five-and-twenty years, be the same more or
less, that it was lawful and proper in you all to do what you pleased to
any king, except the Pope and Dan O'Connell, that you happened to
catch after nightfal — isn't it wonderful, I say, to hear me telling you to
give three cheers for the king ; and what's more than that, nine cheers
for the queen ; and as many as you choose for the constitution ? Isn't

1831 .] the Elections and Prospects of Ireland. 631

it as much as to say that Prince Hohenlo has wrought some blessed
miracle upon the country ; and, like Aaron's rod, that made five gallons
of raal poteen run down like water from the top of a big rock, when a
whole heap of poor Catholics were famishing below, that I'm after
pointing the tip of my little finger at the king, and the queen, and the
cabinet council, and making them overflow with plenty and lashins* of
the best of every thing ? Sure you wouldn't believe it, only you see it.
Then I'll tell you what it is. The Millenium's come. May be you
don't know what the Millenium is ? Hard for you, my dear children,
when beef is fourpence-halfpenny a pound, and you can't get better
vegetables than the tops of the potatoes. How could you tell the Millenium
from any other common Sunday in the year ? But never mind going
too deep into it. It's not for the likes of you to be bothering yourselves
with such abtruse mathematics as that.

Well, now that the General Election's come, and that the Millenium
is upon us, Lord save us, before we know where we are, just like Mrs.
Hagarty's christenings, every nine months — £oh ! I see you, Bryan, you
needn't be trying to duck your head behind Tim Fanahy — are my boots
done yet? To be sure they're not. Where do you expect to go when
you die ? To purgatory of course. Troth, if you don't send me home
the same boots before breakfast to-morrow morning, I'll write off about
you to night, and make them keep the door barred and bolted for your
sake.] I say now is the time for you all, boys honey, to shew yourselves
men. Stand up for your rights, and remember that there isn't one of
you that may not, one day or another, have a monument of real marble
with your name upon it in letters of gold. Think of that, Myles Rielly,
with your one eye, and hould up your head like a pathriot.

I've just got a letter from the Pope, in which his Holiness expressly
desires me in Latin to hould a jubilee when the election s over, and to give
an indulgence for a year and a day to every one of you that votes for
Reform. And never fear but I'll do it, and welcome ; and if the bit of
paper happens to be worn out in the red waistcoats of you before the
year is fairly over, sure if you behave yourselves I might give you another
bit of paper that'd carry you on through the winter after next, so that
the world 'd be wondering at the good luck you'd have. But in regard
to the Reform, I'll tell you what that is before I go any further.

Come over, Luke Mulloney, 'till I have a bit of goster with you.
What do you call that dirty looking thing like a shoeing horn, you've
got between your finger and thumb, as if you were afraid it'ud burn
you ? Spake up that the congregation may hear you.

Luke. This, your reverence ?

Father Murphy. You're mighty 'cute at a guess, Luke : — that's
exactly what I mean.

Luke. Musha ! Sure it's my ould caubeen,t your reverence.
, Father Murphy. And what's become of the crown of it, Luke ?

Lule. Is it the kiver you're meaning-? Troth then, your reverence,
that's more than myself could till you. It's many a long day since the
kiver and I parted company, and never a saw I saw it since.

Father Murphy. And what's the use of it upon the head of ye, Luke,
when it won't keep out the wet ?

* The hyperbole of abundance. t Hat.

032 Father Murphy's Sermon on [JUNE,

Luke. Och ! salvation to me, your reverence, if ever I put it on my
head at all.

Father Murphy. And what do you do with it, Luke ?

Luke. Why, then, don't I carry it in my fist on a Sunday to the
chapel, your reverence, for the dacency of it ?

Father Murphy. And you carry the brogues in th'other hand, Luke ?

Luke. Not a word of lie in it, Sir ; the brogues wouldn't be worth
picking out of the dirt, if I was to carry them on my feet. They'd be
like a bit of brown paper in no time, your honour, if I was to walk upon
them.

Father Murphy. But, Luke, you could get another pair when these
would be done with, and you could buy yourself a nice new hat, with
wool a foot long, every fair-day ?

Luke. It's divarting yourself with me, saving your holy presence,
your reverence is this blessed morning. Where would I get the means
of buying another pair of brogues, since I hav'n't as much money as I
could cross myself with, an' what's more, never had. Faix, the king's face
is a stranger to me, unless I see it in a turnip, or an apple piatee.

Father Murphy. You're a smart fellow, Luke, and you'll be a great
man yet. Now, boys, did you hear what Luke said, that he hasn't the
means to buy a new pair of brogues ? Well that's the very reason why
you're to vote for Reform. It's two pair of brogues each, and plenty of
blue cloth coats, with yellow buttons, and yellow wraistcoats, and buck-
skin breeches, and blue stockings, and speckled handkerchiefs, and the
mischief and all of things you'll have upon ye when we get reform. \_An
universal buzz of wonder throughout the chapel, which communicates to the
groups outside, and nhen it has made the circuit of the multitude grows into
one loud, long shout for his reverence.~\ Asy, asy, boys — hush ! now that'll
do — I haven't done with reform vet. There's Mr. Cahill that keeps the
academy over against the slate quarry. — (I see you, Mr. Cahill, don't be
ashamed of your good works, and leave off drawing the nails out of your
fingers with your teeth.) Now, Mr. Cahill isn't able to put a roof to his
college, where you get the best of learning for little or nothing. But
when the reform is settled, there isn't a slate in the whole quarry that
won't be mounted on the top of the place ; and Mr. Cahill himself, and
he's deserving of it, will have a garron* for the woman that owns him,
and be able to keep a cow, and may be have a little corner in the hag-
gard for a still of his own. That's what reform will do for you — but
don't shout yet.

You remember the time that every one of you that could stick a spade
in the ground was a freeholder. Well, the time is coming when you'll
all have votes again, and more than that, when the child that's coming
home shall have a vote, if you can only swear that you're sure it'ill be a
boy — (mind that Mrs. Rorke, and I wish you an asy time of it).

Now, don't you think it's worth while to get enough to eat and drink,
without putting yourselves to the trouble of going to sea in the harvest-
time to look for work ? To be sure you do, I'll answer for you. Well,
when you get reform, the corn will be growing up under your feet, and
before you can turn round it'll be baked into loaves for you ; there'll be
more potatoes in the country than you can eat, and you'll be obliged to

• Horse.

1831-3 the Elections and Prospects of Ireland. 633

give them to the pigs, for fear they'd take root over again, and run away
with the land from you : and as to the poultry, and the sheep, and the
drop of drink, troth I'm thinking its proud and lazy you'll be getting
with the plenty that'll be staring you out of countenance. Never a
'ruction will you have, but amongst yourselves. As to the tithe-proctors,
they'll bury themselves with their own tools, and you'll never be put out
of your way again by one of the dirty blackguards. All the schools that
come down from Kildare St. will fall away like dust ; and you'll never
hear of a bishop except Bishop Doyle and myself, for with a blessing and
my health to wear it, I'll be a bishop then. In regard to the police,
they'll all go back to England, for you-know they're not natural to us,
even the best of them. As to the matter of rents, the landlords will all
come begging and beseeching of you to keep your little tenements, and
to take as much land as you can ride over in a day's walk, and they'll
leave the price entirely to your own honour, so that you can have your
holding as cheap as dirt. Then you'll have no clergy to pay but
your own; and you may send your children where you like; and you'll
consume all your own eggs, and butter, and beef, and pork, instead of
sending them out of the country to get money for your rack-rents, and
leaving yourselves, like the robin redbreasts, in the winter, without a
morsel of food to keep the sign of life in ye.

But you're wondering all this time why I don't say something about
the r a pale. If you weren't a set of gossoons,* you'd know very well
that the rapale is throtting after reform, just like my dog Pincher, that's
eternally treading on the heels of my ould horse. Go where I will,
Pincher' s after me — and so is the rapale of the Union after the reform.
Troth it's as fast upon reform as if it was its shadow. Do you think Dan
O'Connell doesn't know what he's about ? Let him alone, and you'll see
how shy he'll make them look, just as if they'd lost their tails. But,
mind what I'm saying to you. You're not to let out one word about the
rapale, until after the elections ; for Dan is so deep that he'll first catch
the Orangemen in a trap, and when he has them there, I'll give you leave
to go three weeks without mass, and to miss the Easter dues, if he doesn't
pin them to the rapale. And won't you do what Dan bids you ? As
certain as the flowers in May, you'll all be gentlemen and ladies when
the rapale comes. You'll have your own horses, and your own cattle,
and you'll have your own parliament that won't betray ye, but that'll
just do whatever you please, and clap all the loose hands into the Excise,
and the fat of the land will be flowing upon you like new milk. Oh I
what a murthering country will Ireland be, when we've got the rapale.
I'll be bound there isn't one of you now that won't be going up to Dublin
when the parliament's 'sitting, and, when you're away, the soil will be
running mad with all the crops that '11 be breaking their necks growing
up so fast for you, against you come back. And may be you won't come
home with new gowns for the wives, and stockings for the children,, and
the world knows what all, of ribbands, and rings, and brooches. (Don't
be tittering, Mary Ryan ; it's all in store for you, and the sooner the bet-
ter. Indeed, you'll be picking your steps, yet, like a kitten in a shower
of rain.)

You see, boys, the sense of the thing is this. We must first get
reform : we must put out all the Orangemen at the elections. Well,

* An Irish equivalent for garfon, conveying, in addition, as occasion may require,
the reproach of foolishness.

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 66. 4 M

634 Father Murphy's Sermon on

when we've done that, the king is to ask Dan what he'll have next, and
Dan is to say, that he leaves it entirely to himself; but that's only
making pretence, for immediately after that Dan is to make a great
speech, — you'll see it at full length- in the Register, if you've grace — and
then the next news will be that Dan is to have it all his own way, and
to get the royal command, as it were, to have a parliament in Dublin,
and then all the true gentry '11 come forward, and never was such a sight
seen in the memory of man as there'll be that day in Ireland. That's
the reason that Dan is keeping himself so quiet, for fear he'd spoil what's
coming. (" Three cheers for Dan" — a simultaneous cry from the multi-
tude.^

And do you think, when you've a parliament of your own, that
there'll be such doings at the elections as there was in the ould times ?
No such thing. Never a man will shew his face that isn't a friend to
the people. There'll be no soldiers to keep you from voting for your
own friend, and there'll be no landlords to drive you* out if you vote
against them. Besides, you're to vote all as one as if every body's eyes
were shut, and nobody could see who you voted for : so that there'll be
nothing but fair play, and fair play's a jewil. Then, instead of voting
as you do now, every four or five years, you'll have a vote every year,
or oftener, may be ; for our parliament will be like a bed of onions, it '11
last 'till the year's out, and then you'll sow the seed again. (When's the
wedding to be, Paddy Farrel ? It isn't clear to me, but you're teasing
the soul out of the little girl for nothing at all. I'll be after coming
down to you to-morrow night, so mind and have the kettle schreeching
on the hob at eight o'clock, you divil !)

Now, boys, after what I've told you, what'll you vote for ? For the
lives of ye, don't say, when you're asked the question, that you'll vote for
the rapale, yet a while — but say that you vote for reform. That's the
word. May be there's some of ye never heard of reform before ? Then
the more's your merit for making much of it now. Sure it's a token
you've the true faith in you. St. Peter voted for reform, and this is St.
Peter's parish, and the chapel you're standing in, for there's no seats for
ye to sit upon — all in good time for the seats any way ; this chapel is
built on a rock, and so is your church ; and that's another reason why
you should vote for reform. Only it'ud be demeaning him, St. Peter
would come down among ye, and vote for Dan just like one of yourselves,
without the least pride, for he's no upstart ; only you see its mighty
busy he is, but he's watching you for all that ; and there's never a one
of ye that gives a wrong vote that he won't remember it, when you're
coming to him to beg of him to shew you the short cut to purgatory, to
save you going round. And now, boys, disperse yourselves quietly, and
keep the tongue in the mouths of ye, in regard to what I told you this
day. The mother of all the saints be with you this night. It's myself
that mortifies myself day and night for your sakes, but my kingdom's
before me, and the trouble's a pleasure when we get our reward for it.
Vote for reform, boys. It 11 be as good as board and lodging for nothing
for you. It'll put the clothes on your back, and the bread in your
mouths, and it'll make ould Ireland as free as if she was nothing but a
butterfly flying for the bare life for ever and ever through the air. Three
cheers for reform, boys, and then go your ways as I bid you. ( Three
cheers accordingly.) Come back, you spalpeens, is that the way you're
slinking off with yourselves ? It's lately come to ye to forget Dan ! {A
roar, and a multitudinous number of cheers for Dan). Hullabaloo ! and

1831.] the Elections and Prospects of Ireland. 635

you're off again like shot out of a shovel. Come back again, I tell you,
and look at me. Oh ! I suppose there's nobody else that's deserving of
a cheer. Now, I'm burned, but I b'lieve you think you're all reformers
complete, and that the world wide couldn't match you for the laming.
But who enlightened you upon it ? who told you that the millenium was

come, and (The idea is caught up by the grateful auditory, and

before the priest can finish the sentence, an indescribable tumuli of voices
transmits the name of Father Murphy to the astonished welkin).

A straw thrown up will shew the course of the wind !

LOVE AND NOVELISM.

To the Editor.

SIR : — This, as every body knows, or ought to know, is the age of
novels. They are no doubt admirable things, and contain every charm
on earth but one — novelty. In looking over them, I find myself in the
condition of the celebrated Madame du Deffand's husband ; to whom
that lady always gave the same book, which her innocent lord always
read through, observing f ' that it was very amusing, but that it now and
then struck him as having some resemblance to something that he had
seen somewhere else before." I feel in a similar predicament, and, like
him, though highly, delighted, yet cannot help thinking, on the perusal
of every new novel, that I am re-introducing myself to an old acquaint-
ance. However, as, when we cannot have new facts or feelings, we
must be content with variety of style, I send you, from the pen of an
accomplished friend, who never writes novels, a specimen of the variety
that may be produced by change of locale in the picture of the tender

passion.

IsOve-making. — Cheapside.

I met her at the Easter Ball ; the ' ' fair, the inexpressive she." Our
eyes met — it was the electric fire, the penetrating spirit of passion, the
language of soul to soul. She was dressed a la Acker mann's last
magazine, and reminded me of the picture of Venus rising from the sea.
Our flame was mutual, we sighed together, drank lemonade together,
and waltzed together. We parted with a confession of unalterable faith
on both sides. Next day I sent her the following verses :—

TO ISABINDE.

Come, sit with me on London Bridge,

And look upon the river ;
For Cupid's sure to meet us there,

And bring his bow and quiver :
And there we'll gaze upon the main,

And revel in the storm ;
And Passion's rosy cup we'll drain,

Delicious, wild, and warm.

Come, sit with me on London Bridge,

And hear the billows roar ;
And we will rove in Fancy's bower,

And think of earth no more :
With breezes breathing round our heads,

And at our feet the waves,
We'll tread where true love only treads,

And laugh at Custom's slaves.
4 M 2

636 Love and Novelism.

Come, sit with me on London Bridge,

With but the heavens above —
With but the crystal stream below,

To witness to our love :
We'll think the hours too swiftly fly,

Or dream those hours away ;
Then shun the world's too-envious eye

From dawn to setting day.

Come, sit with me on London Bridge,

Romantic, silent, still;
Or, if my love prefer a walk,

We'll walk on Fish-street-hill ;
Or, if sweet Cheapside please thee best,

I'll build thee there a cell—
A hermitage — a turtle's nest. —

My Isabinde, farewell !

Love-making. — Charing Cross.

The day was as sultry as the inner ring of a fight at Moulsey. I
was in full travelling order ; tights, double toggery ; weather-board
twice the size of my Lord Worcester's ; cigar fresh lighted j in short,
quite an irresistible.

At half-past twelve, infallible as the pope, drove up Tom Turnout,
with his four greys, tooling the Blue Devil Cheltenham stage, a first-rate
set-out in all points, over old women, police, beggars, and aldermen, at
the rate of twenty miles an hour. I mounted the box beside my friend
Tom, and off we flew. The first quarter of an hour was of course a re-
gular ploughing-match through the Macadamized streets ; which, if they
would apply them to rearing potatoes and cabbages, might answer the
purpose ; but as for driving, a gallop along the low water-mark of the
Thames at ebb-tide would be much preferable. However, when we
at last got out of the streets, I glanced round to examine the live cargo
on the roof, Among the twenty packed there and struggling for life
among the luggage, nineteen were farmers, tinkers, merchants, par-
sons, and similar canaille ; but the twentieth was, by Jupiter, an angel.
She would have stopped me in the best hit I ever made in club-room,
billiard-room, race-ground, shooting-gallery, or Jackson's. I fell
instantly into a fit of poetry and the tender passion. But her eyes, her
eyes — gas-light, St. Giles's clock, the Lord Mayor's Show, or Lord
Harborough's four-in-hand baggage-waggon, were not to be looked
at after them. I bewitched her with the following extempore

SONG.

Oh ! what upon earth is like woman's bright eye,

If that eye is but turned upon me ?
What's a lamp in the streets, or a star in the sky,

To that glance which with rapture I see ?
Though the coach-wheels may rattle, the horses make battle,

The reins fly like feathers on air ;
Yet when woman's but by, with that light in her eye,

Life's as smooth as a one-horse chair.

Though the rabble around us may wish to confound us,

While I gaze on your twinklers, my dear,
All Epsom might go to the regions below,
To meet with all Doncaster ther e :

1831.] Love and Novelism. 637

Lord Humpback might wive his whole family hive,

The Meltons at ditches look shy ;
The world run agog1, and the king play leap-frog,

And the Thames and the Bank both run dry.

Now the birds are all bliss, and Sol gives his last kiss,

As much as to tell us, my dove,
That evening's a moment which no one should miss,

Who thinks to make music or love :
So come to my side — two such bosoms as ours

Were made to be linked in one chain :
I've a cloak for the sun, an umbrella for showers,

And a cab for old London again.

Love-making. — Brighton.

Five in the Afternoon. — Unspeakably weary of life and London. After
having sat out a quarter of an hour of the duchess's best conversation,
felt nature could endure no longer. Flew to my toilette, saw myself
growing visibly pale; held a council with M. Coquin, my newly-
imported valet, who has in his time curled and rouged half the crowned
heads -of Europe, questioned him whether I should send for Halford,
a new case of Stephanie's rouge vegetable, or a pint of laudanum.
The rascal set his face against the first and the last, I presume on the
ground that I have not yet disbursed his year's salary. So I must
submit to the carmine.

Ten at Night. — Just risen from table. The first course so horridly
oppressive with my lord's seven marriageable daughters, emblems of
the seven deadly sins, that, for all the life that's left me, I thought I
should faint. Rose suddenly from table in the midst of a discussion
on the merits of the sex as wives and mothers, and fled for the safety of
my person. The night cool. An airing may revive me ; ordered post-
horses, and shall in three hours be in Brighton.

Ten A. M. — Fine morning. But this a peculiar nuisance in this
citizenized spot. It brings out the whole horrid population in clusters ;
all the imports, with the London mark fresh upon them, like so many
bales or barrels rolled out of their own warehouses ; and, like them, all
to be disposed of to the best bidder, with a prodigious discount, too,
of face, figure, and fashion, for ready money. Throw commerce to the
dogs, I'll none of it. They have poisoned the air already. Goths and
Vandals, they have barbarized the Steyne, made the cliffs doubly peri-
lous, have turned Kemp Town into a cluster of wigwams, and have
absolutely left no resource to a man of delicacy and clean clothes but
the sky or the sea. Let me escape along the sands. But ha ! ye gods,
what a shape returning from her morning's dip. Wit in her eye, bloom
in her cheek, elegance in her form, and her bathing slippers in her
hand. She paces the shingle, which her steps turn into a Turkey car-
pet. She penetrates the mob of quakers, valets, billiard-markers, fish-
women, retired linendrapers, and dandies of the Fleet Ditch Hussars,
relaxing from the toils of war. She passes through them like a vision,
tracking her course with light, and carrying off all their half-baked
hearts and milk-and-water souls along with her. Lovely vision!
Cinderella of my fancy ! Be thou sempstress, laundress, nursery-maid,
or fairy queen, thou hast given my duchess-proof bosom a twinge.
" Tell me, my soul, if this be love !"

Twelve at Night — I have the fatal symptoms strong upon me. I have

638 Love and Novelism. [JUNE,

rode for three hours through Brighton, ate ices in every Gunter's in the
town, and bought a dozen yards of bobbinet in every marchand de
modes, in hopes to suffer one deadly and exquisite glance of those irre-
sistible eyes. I feel hungry, and ring for supper. — " Visions of glory
spare my aching sight" — The matchless unknown is the bar-maid of
the hotel. My blindness, my insouciance, my habit of never using my
own eyes, while I pay a rascal valet to look for me, prevented my see-
ing this rosebud growing under my hand. " To marry, or not to marry
— that is the question." I must marry at some time or other, unless I
choose to be plagued out of my life by all the dowagers, or make over
my twenty thousand a year to my younger brother. I will marry ; and
marry the lovely ornament of the bar of the York. My passion is flow-
ing into verse — the verse of the moment must have its way : —

SONG.

I was a dandy once,

A dandy I'm no more ;
Your wise man's but a dunce

Who says that love's a bore :
The breast that never beats,

The lip that never sighs,
Knows nothing of life's sweets —

'Tis love alone that's wise.

I waltzed, I played, I dined,

And called this liberty ;
With kings and princes wined,

With duchesses drank tea ;
Stood Jersey's wittiest fire,

Stood Devon's Thursday ball ;
Was member for the shire —

And lived to tell it all.

But now the hidden soul

Asserts her rights again ;
Disdains the rude control

Of whist, or seven's the main ;
Disdains again to shrink

At wine or woman's tongue,
But flies to pen and ink,

And tells the truth in song.

Then, bar-maid of my heart,

Keep thou my bosom's key ;
Be still the thing thou wert

When rising from the sea ;
No pale, consumptive ghost —

No rouged, romantic fright,
But England's honest boast —

Her own true red and white.

Farewell for life, Almack's !

With all thy gallopades,
With all thy naked backs

Of matrons and of maids ;
French husbands to them all

(With mistresses a score).
Here finishes my ball —

The Dandy's day is o'er !

1831.] [ 639 ]

THE GHOST OF KILSHEELAN.

Now hear me relate

My story, which perhaps thou liast not heard.

MltTON.

IT is not more than three years since, when I was present at one of
those assizes for Tipperary, so little distinguished in the annals of that
country, and so infamous in the records of Ireland for the horrible but
accustomed detail of atrocity, assassination, and recklessness of human
life. I had been listening for some days, with horror and disgust, to
the crimes of the murderers who were brought to the bar of justice, and
to the shameless and bare-faced perjuries of those who sought to shelter
them from the consequences of their guilt ; — I had listened until my
senses recoiled with affright at the villanies that were detailed to me ;
and I had marked, with equal abhorrence and contempt, the stolid
countenances of the alibi witnesses for the prisoners, while their native
perjuries were translating into the English language, with which they
pretended to be unacquainted. From the midst of this scene of misery,
vice, and sin, I gladly received an order to return immediately to
Dublin.

Upon inquiring at the coach-office, I was informed that all the inside
places to the metropolis were engaged for a " particular company ;"
but the clerk could not tell me who or what they were, nor even satisfy
my inquiries so far as to inform me to which sex the " particular com-
pany" belonged. My curiosity was, I confess, excited by the circum-
stance ; and it was with little of the listlessness of a stage-coach passen-
ger that I took my place beside the driver the next morning. Before I
mounted the box, I took care to look into the coach : it was empty.
There were not upon the roof any one of those innumerable and name-
less depositories of stowage, that indicate the profusion or attention to
personal comfort of a female traveller. The coach had no outside pas-
senger but myself; and the blank countenance of the hostler, as he
pocketed his solitary shilling, sufficiently manifested that there was for
his advantage but one departure that morning from Clonmel.

We had travelled for about two miles when we came to a place where
the road turns in directly upon the river's bank. Here about ten or
twelve persons could be observed collected together. The low whistle
of a mounted policeman, whom we had once or twice encountered on
the road, was responded to by them. I could distinguish the military
step and bearing of some amongst the group ; and the protrusions in the
dark frieze coats with which they were enveloped, shewed that they
carried the short muskets with which every one of the Irish police are
armed. The coachman Was directed to pull up — in a few seconds after-
wards a movement took place in the distant body, and five persons
walked towards us. Two of them were dressed like the peasants of
Tippsrary, in their best apparel, or as they themselves term it, "their
Sunday clothes." There were two immediately behind, and as if watch-
ing with a practised glance every attitude of the countrymen — these I
at once recognised as two of the Dublin peace-officers, while, in front of
the four walked a gentleman, who, either for the purpose of conceal-
ment or more probably to protect himself from the cold, had his face
covered up nearly to the eyes with a silk handkerchief, while his person
was enveloped with a rug coat, oyer which was thrown a large camlet

640 The Ghost of Kilsheelan. [JUNE,

cloak. He appeared to be conversing with one of the countrymen,
whose pale, but still handsome features, his dark and heavy eye-brows,
his steady manner, his crouching demeanour, and the quick glances of
his lively black eyes at once betrayed him to me as the notorious and
intelligent approver Fitzgerald — the man who had first conspired to
murder the unfortunate Mora, who afterwards betrayed his associates in
guilt, and brought to justice a majority of them. While Fitzgerald was
speaking to the gentleman, his associate in guilt and fellow-approver,
Ned Ryan, was walking carelessly along, kicking at the stones on the
road, and watching apparently with the most intense interest the distance
he would be able to drive them. It could not be known that he was
taking any part in the conversation that was going on, except that when-
ever the gentleman turned towards him, he raised his hand to his hat,
and seemed to give a brief reply to the question put to him. The only
words that I could hear were these — they proceeded from Fitzgerald —
" Know Kerby, is't ? I'd know him, your honour, in a patthern — I only

saw him while we were settlin' Mora's business, and by , he has a

curl o' the eye, that I'd never forget, borrin' I lost the recollection I

have of my own mother, rest her sowl ! Know him ? by , he has a

twist wid the forefinger o' the right hand, that may-be yourself 'd never
forget, supposin' you saw it once, counsellor."

I could see a large full gray eye turn upon Fitzgerald as he made use
of this dubious expression. In a few seconds the entire party was at the
coach-door, and the gentleman, who was still muffled up, exclaimed,
" Peace-officers, you will look carefully to these two men — not a word is
to be spoken by either of them on business — detachments of the police
and military will protect you to Kilkenny, from thence to Dublin there
can be no apprehension of violence/' Fitzgerald, Ryan, and the two peace-
officers entered the coach, and it proceeded at a rapid rate on its journey.
On my looking round, I observed that the mysterious gentleman had
joined the police, and that they were turning through a bye-road to
Clonmel.

" Musha, sweet, bad luck go with you, long Jack," said the coach-
man ; " but it's a pair of informing murderin' villains you 're after
puttin' into the dacent coach this morrin'."

' ' Who do you call long Jack ? " said I.

" Who do I call long Jack? who but the counsellor ?"

" What counsellor ? "

" The counsellor ? Oh ! the counsellor for the crown — the villain o' the

world, that 's hangin' all the boys in Tipperary — long Jack D , that

has a tongue that 'd twist a rope round a man's neck in a pair of
minutes — that's the long Jack I mane — him, that's after puttin' two
blackguards, and two dealers, that's greater blackguards again, into my
coach — borrin' that my own neck 'd be broke by it, I wished it was
knocked to smithereens this minute." «

" I am certain you must be mistaken," I observed ; " the tones of that
gentleman's voice are much hoarser than Mr. D 's."

" Hoarser ! Why then if they are, it's with roguery they're hoarser—-
it's the fellow's voice that frets me, for he's as pleasant at hangin' as
another man is at a christenin' or a berrin', and he cracks a joke at the
very minute he's crackin' a man's neck. Old Taler was bad enough ;
but long Jack is ten times worse entirely. So it's poor Ned Kerby they're
now lookin' after ? Oh ! then one way or another somebody will hear

] 831 .] The Ghost of Kilshcelan. 641

who they want most before I'm a day oulder — an' for me to be drivin'
in a coach them that brought him into a scrape, and now wants to swear
his life away. Oh ! but wasn't it hard fortune that I should ever know
a cow from a garron, when it's four o' them that I'm drivin' this blessed
day to please the murderin' rapscallions, Fitzgerald an' Ryan."

" Assuredly," said I, " you are not vexed with those two wretched
men, if they now are instruments in bringing to justice the murderers
of an innocent, an unoffending, and an industrious man. It is true, that
they were wicked enough to combine with other miscreants to deprive
a human being of life ; but that is a crime of which they have repented,
and they are now endeavouring to make every reparation for it, by the
prosecution and conviction of the assassins of Mora."

" It's 'asy seein', that it's little you know o'them, or the counthry.
I'll tell you what, Sir, that you have in the coach two boys, that if they
were out, an' free, would be afther doin' the same thing only for the
askin'. Sure, all they did was only for a rvornin, that neither kith nor
kin of any informer should dare shew his nose in the bounds o' the
county. And as to ripintin' — what would they ripint of? Is it that
there was put out o' the way a man that was doin' as all the tyrants
in the land are doin' — takin' the places over their heads — raisin' the rints
on them, and lavin' them as they are this day, with two of the bloody
lubers beside them. Ripint ! the devil a ripint they ripint. I be bail
you, they never tould long Jack — convarsible, an' full of discourse as
they are for him — where they hid their arms last. No — and now mind
my words, that, except the poor lads they're afther gibbettin', the never
a man more will ever be got by them. The rest o' the sufferers are safe
any way.*

" Then you have not, I perceive," said I, " any great respect for an
informer."

" Respect !" cried the coachman, " no, the devil a respect — but as this
is a long stage I will tell you a story about what rve call an informer,
and which I know to be a real truth in a manner.

" It's something more nor forty, or five-and-forty years ago, that there
lived in Kilsheelan, in this very county of Tipperary, a real old gen-
tleman— he was one Major Blennerhasset — one of the real old Protes-
tants. None o' your upstarts that come in with Cromwell or Ludlow,
or any o' the blackguard biblemen o' them days — for the only difference
between a bibleman now, Sir, and the biblemen o' former times, was just
this — that Cromwell's biblemen used to burn us out of house an' home,
while the bibleman now only tells us that we are goin' to blazes — so, your
honour, you see they were determined to Jire us one way or another.
Well, as I was telling you, Major Blennerhassett was a real old Protestant,
and though he'd curse, an' swear, an' d — n the Papists when he'd be in

* The coachman was correct both in his opinion and his prophecy. It appeared
at a subsequent assizes, on the cross-examination of Ryan, that he had informed
the government of every matter connected with himself but one — the place where
he had his gun concealed. This was a secret which he said he never would dis-
close to them, and he also declared, on his oath, that he hoped to live to be able
again to use it ! None of the murderers of Mora, except those first apprehended,
have yet been taken. One of them, Edward Kirby, defied for several months all
the plans and stratagems of the police to arrest him. He was, at length, shot acci.
dentally by one of his own pistols, as he was leaping across a hedge, and at a time
when the police were not in pursuit of him.

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XI. No. 66. 4 N

64'2 The Ghost of Kilsheelan. [JUNE,

a passion, the devil a one of him would be ever after turnin* us out of
our little holdings, supposin' we were two, or three, or may be five gales
in arrear.

Now you may be sure that all the boys were distracted one morning,
to hear that the Major was found with his throat cut from ear to ear, in
a most unhandsome manner. There wasn't a Papist in the parish but
knew that he hadn't a hand in it — for the Major was as dead as a door
nail, or Queen Elizabeth. There wasn't a neighbour's child in the
entire barony that wasn't up at the Major's big house in no time, to hear
" how the poor master's throat was cut," and when they saw him it was
plain to be seen that the Major didn't do it himself — for there was the
poor right hand cut in two nearly, and such a gash as he had in his
throat, they all said, couldn't be given by himself, because the Major,
it was well known, wasn't kithogued (left handed). Besides that, there
was the old gold watch gone, an' his bonds, an' what money he had in
the house, along with a £500 note.

" To be sure the magistrates had an inquest, an' pretty work they
made about it — an' may be the newspapers didn't make fine talk about
it — they never stopped for three months sayin' ' all the Protestants in
Tipperary were murdered by the Papists/ and so on, till this peaceable
county was under the Insurrection Act, an' then to be sure they never
stopped transportin' us — an' all this was by raison of a decent gentle-
man's throat beiii' cut by some blackguard or another. At all events
there was no makin' head nor tail o' the Major's murder till comin' on
the assizes, when two young innocents — one Jack Carey, and one Bill
Dorney were taken up for it. My father knew the two .chaps well, and
except that they didn t care what they did to come round a girl, he often
tould me, that milder, nor inriocenter, nor modester, nor parti er behaved
boys he never seen. The people, in fact, were sure they would be
acquitted till they heard that Lord Norbury was comin' the circuit, an'
then they gave it up as a bad job.

At last the day o' the trial came, an* to the surprise an' wonderment
of every body, who should get up on the table, an' take the book in his
hand, to swear away the lives of poor Jack Carey and Bill Dorney, but
one Kit Cooney ! Now, Kit, you must know, was the only creature
that lived with the Major — for the Major was an ould batchelor — and
Cooney fled the country after the Major was murdered, an', in troth,
every one thought that it was he who did the Major's business — for he
wasn't the best o' charater at any time, an' every one was wonderin'
why the Major let him live with him, at all, at all. Up Kit got on the
table, as bould as a lion, an' he swore hard an' fast, as a trooper, that
Dorney and Carey murdered the Major in his bed, and that he him-
self, Kit Cooney, the vagabond, agreed to join them in doin' so ; but
that he ripinted of it, and wouldn't lay a hand on the ould man, but ran
away to Dublin, when it was all over, and tould the Polis there all
about it. He was, you see, Sir, a king's evidence, an informer, and, in
short, he hung the two men. The truth was, Cooney had the Dublin
Polis magistrates to back him out, an' the two poor boys wouldn't prove
an alibi at all— but this indeed I often heard their friends say, that if
the two gassoons liked it they could have proved alibis for them in
twenty different places, all at the same time, and each o' them forty
miles away from the murder ; besides that the two boys themselves could
shew, as clear as day-light, where they really were the night the Major

1 831 . J The Ghost of Kilsheelan. (>43

was murdered. The fact was, it was said, that Carey and Dorney were
doing something that night they didn't want the priest to know anything
about. At all events they might have let such evidence alone, for they'd
have been hung on Kit Cooney's affidavy at any rate. They, to be sure,
said they were innocent, and the people believed them — the judge said
they were guilty, and the jury believed him, and the two young men
were hung accordingly. This, Sir, I was tellin' you, happened five an'
forty year ago, and just like the present times, Cooney knew the country
too well to stop in it — at best he was but an informer, an' Tipperary is a
spot that was always 'counted too hot for them kind of rapscallions. It
wasn't for many years afther that he was heard of, an' the way that
mention was made of him was just thus.

" It was, you see, about six and twenty years next Holy-Eve night,
that my aunt Biddy — an' it's from her own son I have the story, which
is next to knowin' it myself — it was on that very night — (an' it's a night
that's mighty remarkable entirely for quare stories of the good people) —
that she was standin' at the door of poor ould Major Blennerhassett's
house that was, and lookin' out to see what in the world was keepin'
Paddy (that was her husband's name) so long at the market of Golden —
(for it was market-day in Golden) when she seen a well-dressed, farmer-
like man with clothes on him that looked as if they were made in Dublin
— you see, they hadn't the Tipperary cut upon them, at all. — And there
was this decentish ould man standin' right opposite her on the road, an'
lookin' terrible narrow at the house. Well, she thought nothin' at all o'
that ; for it's few people could pass the road without stoppin' to look at
the Major's house, it was such an out o' the way big one to be so near the
high road. ' God save you, ma'am/ says he. ' God save you kindly, sir/
says she. ' It's a could night,' says he. ' 'Tis/ says she, * will you
come in, an' take an air of the fire ?' ' I will/ says he. So she brought
him down to the kitchen, an' the first thing she remarked was, that she
forgot to tell him of an ugly step, that lay in his way, an' that every body
tripped over, if they weren't tould of it, or didn't know it well before.
And yet, without a trip or a jostle, but smooth, and smack clean like
herself, the stranger walked down stairs before her. ' By my sowkins/
said she to herself, ' you were here before, my good mon, whoever you
are, and I must keep rny eye upon you' — an' then she talks out to him
' are you dry or hungry ?' says she. ' No, but I'd like a drink o' but-
termilk/ says he. ' Why then, I'll get that same for you/ says she ;
( what countryman are you ? ' ' Then to tell you the truth/ says he,
' I'm a Connoughtman.' ' Why then you haven't a bit o' the brogue/
says she, ' but talk English almost entirely, as well as myself.' ' Oh !'
says he, ( I was in Dublin polishing off the brogue.' ' That accounts/
says she, ' for the fine accent you have — were you ever in these parts
before ?' ' Never/ says he. f That's a lie/ says she to herself; ' but I'll
go an' fetch you a noggin o' the buttermilk.' ' Thank 'ee/ says he. You
see, she left him sitting in the kitchen, and while she went for the but-
termilk, which was to a pantry like, off the kitchen, an' while she was
there, she saw the stranger put his hand to the second brick, in the hob,
take out some little parcel, and run it into his breeches pocket. While
he was doin' this, she saw his little black ferret-eyes, that were not
longer in appearance nor a hawk's, but were bright and glisenin' and
dazzlin' like them, wheelin' all round the kitchen, to see if any one was

4 N 2

0*44 The Ghost of Kilshedan. [JuNE,

watching him. In a minute, she knew the gallows-look of him — it was
Kit Cooney that had hung her own flesh an' blood, till they were high
an' dry as a side o' bacon. To be sure, the poor woman was frightened
enough, but she was very stout, an' didn't let on, an' accordingly, she
came out with the noggin, an' when he drank it off, she sat down oppo-
site him, an' asked him would he stop the night, as her husband would
be home in a few minutes,, an' would be glad to see ony one that could
tell him about the castle, an' the parliament house, an' the bridges, an' the
lord-mayor, an' all the fine sights of Dublin. ' No, thank 'ee/ says he,
' I must be in Golden to night — I 've got all I wanted from you.' ' Faith
you have,' says she to herself again, ' but whatever it is, it's more nor a
drink o' buttermilk.'

" Well, Sir, the man left her, an' she sat down waitin' for her husband,
quite melancholly like, an' wondrin' what in the world it was that
Cooney had taken from behind the hob ; she sarched it mighty cutely,
but if she was looking from that day to this, not a ha'p'orth she
could find, but an empty hole, an' nothing in it.

" Ten o'clock struck — eleven o'clock struck, an' no Paddy was yet
come home — so to comfort herself, she sat down to make a cup of tay,
an' to make it strong she determined to put a stick (a glass of whiskey)
in it. She had the bread an' the butter, an' the whiskey bottle, an' the
tay-pot laid comfortably on the settle-bed, an' there she was sittin' on a
creepeen (little stool) beside it, when the clock struck twelve — the very
instant it did, she heard the drawing-room door open — an' — tramp —
tramp — tramp, she heard two feet comin' down stairs— an' — whack —
whack — whack went a stick against the bannisters, as if somebody, who
was lame, was hobbling down toherr as well as his two legs on' a stick
would carry him. To be sure the poor woman was frightened enough —
she knew it could not be Paddy ; for if he had a stick in his fist, he
would be more likely to knock it against a man's head than an ould
wooden bannister. ' The Lord save us !' says she to herself, ' is this
Kit Cooney's comin' back to massacree me.' ' Halloa !' She then called
out, ' You vagabone, whoever you are, don't be afraid to shew your
face to an honester woman than ever your mother was/ Devil an
answer she got. ' Oh,' says she, ' maybe it's nobody at all — 111 take
another cup o' tay 't any rate.' She had just filled it out, an' put the
second stick in it, an' was maixin' it with a spoon, when she turned up
her eyes, an' who in the world should she see leaning over the settle-bed,
an' lookin' quite cantankerous, an' doleful at the same time at her, but —
the Major himself! ! ! There he was in the very same dress that she had
seen on him the very last day he was out with the Tipperary militia.

" He had on him a cocked hat that was, at least, three feet broad,
an' two gold bands on it, that were glistenin' as grandly as if they had
only that minute come out o' the shop, an' had never got a drop a rain
on them — then he had a large black leather stock on his neck, an' a grand
red officer's coat, that between the green that it was turned up with, an'
the gold that was shinin' all over it, you could hardly tell what colour it
was — his shirt was as fine as silk, an' fringed with beautiful tuckers — an'
then, the leather-breeches on his thin ould legs were as white as the
driven snow, an' his boots that came up to his knee were as black an'
polished as a craw's neck. The major, in fact, was dressed out in the
very shute that he went up to Dublin to get made for himself, an' that

1831.] The Ghost of Kilskeelan. G45

he never wore, barrin* it was on the king's birth-day, or the like. To be
sure poor Biddy, who knew that the major was buried many a long day
ago, an' knowin' too right well that she got drunk — with grief — at his
wake, was spifflicated, an' in fact, Sir, completely nonplushed with admir-
ation, when she saw him standin' before her in his best clothes. She had-
n't time to say ' God save you kindly ' to him, when he said to her,

" ' So, Biddy, a man can't walk down his own stairs, that was, without
your abusin' like a pickpocket, an' callin' him names. I little thought
I'd ever hear your mother's daughter call poor ould Major Blennerhassett,
that was a friend to you an' yours, a vagabone. It's 'asy knowin' it's
in my grave I am, an' not here, or you'd cut the tongue out o' your ugly
head, before you'd dare to say such a word to me, you drunken black-
guard.'

" ' Oh ! then, major/ says Biddy, f sure enough, if I knew that it was
you, that was in it, I'd be the biggest o' vagabones to call you names ;
but how in the world was I to think, that you'd be walkin' like a white-
boy at this unseasonable hour c' the night ?'

" ' Oh ! then, Biddy, if you knew how glad I am to get a walk, you
wouldn't wonder at my walkin' whenever I'd be let — may be you'd be
glad to stretch your limbs yourself, if they were afther being cramped
twenty-five years in a cold grave. But how is Paddy ?'
He is mighty well, thank 'ee major.'
How many childer have you, betwixt you ?'
Only ten, major.'
What's become of them ?'

Why then, its mighty good o' you to ask after them, major. Then
to tell you the truth, my four girls are married, and have three childer
each — two o' my boys were hanged in the ruin' in '98 — three more were
transported because their brothers were hung for that same, an* my
youngest son is in hospital from an accident he met with at the last fair
o' Golden, when one o' the Kinnealies broke his leg, with a blow or a
stone, because he was fightin' as well as his shillelagh would let him, for
the Hogans, who you know yourself are our cousin-germans or his own.
But, major, I'm sorry to see you look so delicate. Is there any thing the
matter with you ?'

" ' Any thing the matter with me ! why then, Biddy, you're enough to
drive a man mad. It's no wonder Paddy often gives you a molloo-roguing
(beating) ; any thing the matter with me ? Blur-an-ounty-fish, am n't I
dead and buried ? What worse could be the matter with a man nor that ?
Besides I'm cruel dry — my mouth is filled with the saw-dust that was
put in my coffin, an' I did not taste a drop o' wine, malt, or spirits this
mony a long day.'

" ' Why then, major,' says she, ( may be, you'd take a cup o' tay with
me — I've some green in the house.'

" ( Oh ! hould your tongue, Biddy, or you'll drive me ragin* mad
entirely, an' then I might disremember what brought me here. You
couldn't take much tay yourself, ma'am, if you met with such an acci-
dent as that in your gullet. Look at me,' says the major, taking off his
leather stock, ' am n't I just like an ould turkey cock on a Friday, that
you were goin' to dress for my dinner on a Sunday. Wouldn't this be
a purty throat to go to a tay-party with ?' And as he said this, the
major loosed his stock, an' then sure enough, upon the sight of that,

646 The Ghost of Kilsheelan. [JUNE,

Biddy didn't wonder, that he held his head steady with one of his
hands, for fear it might fall off his shoulders entirely.

" e Oh ! major/ says she, ' it's plain to be seen that they were takiii'
the head off you. Bad luck to their hands that did that same for
you !'

" ( Amen !' says the major, ' an' high hangin' on a windy day to them
too — but the dirty rascal, you see, Biddy, that did that is still walkin'
the face o' the earth — he hung your innocent nephews for it too — but I
won't have my walk for nothin', Biddy, if you remember what I'm goin'
to say to you. Do you know who was here to-night ? It was Tim
Cooney. Now, mind my words. You seen him take somethin' out o'
the hob to-night — that was a purse o' mine as full o' guineas as the
Cat'lic church is full o' saints ; an' it was Cooney put it there, afther
killing me, an' my blood is on the purse still — an' you recollect, he
swore on my trial that he got none o' my money. Now, the lying
scoundrel, at this very minute he has my gold watch in his fob, with my
own name on it, and that five hunder' pound note, that my cousin was
more sorry for the loss of than he was o' myself — that is this very minute
in the inside o' my gold watch, an7 my name's on it — the villain was afraid
by reason o' that to change the note ever since. Let you an' Paddy follow
him now to Golden — you will find him in a shebren house there — charge
him with this murder, an' tell him what I say to him, an' let him take my
word for it, that I'll never stop walkin' till I see him walk to the gal-
lows— an', Biddy, now that you mayn't be thinkin' this is a drame you
have, here's a guinea that I saved out of the fire, an' I'll make you a
present of it/

" f Thank'ee major,' says she, ( you were always good to me.' So
she held out her hand to him for the golden guinea he was goin' to give
her — her heart leaped up to her mouth when she saw it, for it was as
shinin' and as yellow as a buttercup in a green field on a May morning.

" ' There it's for you,' says he, ' hold it fast, an' don't forget I was
with you.' With that, she shut her hand on the guinea, an' the minute
she closed her fingers on it, she thought the hand was burnt off her.

" ' Oh ! major, major/ says she, ' you 've murdered me entirely/

" ' Ah ! what major are you talkin' of?' called out Paddy, who was
that moment come home, and found Biddy jumpin' an' skippin' round
the kitchen like a mad dog, or a young kitten.

"' What major?' answered Biddy, ' why the ould major, that was
here this minute/ ' It's drunk you are, or dramin'," said Paddy. < Why
then, if I am/ said Biddy, ( look in the tay-cup, an' you'll find the
major's guinea, that I threw there to cool it — by the powers it has
burnt the finger an' thumb off me/

" With that, Paddy went to the cup, an' instead of a guinea, he found
nothin' but a smokin' cinder. If Biddy took her oath of it, nothin' would
persuade Paddy but that she was dramin', till she tould him o' Tim
Cooney bein' there, an' all the major said to her.

" Well, the upshot of it was, that Paddy an' Biddy went to the priest
an' tould him all that happened, an' the priest went to a magistrate —
Mr. Fitzgibbon, that he knew had a spite to the father o' the magistrate,
that took Tim Cooney 's swearin' against Carey an' Dorney.

" But as I'm near the end o' my stage, I must be short with my story :
Cooney was arrested by Mr. Fitzgibbon, an' the purse, an' the watch,

1831.] The Ghost of Kilsheelan. 647

an' the £500 note were found exactly as the ghost tould Biddy ; and
Mr. Fitzgibbon an' the priest never let Cooney alone till he owned to the
murder, and that the two poor boys, who by this time should be the
father of fourteen, or fifteen children apiece, were completely innocent.
Cooney was accordingly hung at the next assizes, an' there wasn't a
Carey, nor a Dorney, in Tipperary, that wasn't at the hangin'
in Clonmel. As to that, we have revenged ourselves well on them
Cooneys ; for at the last fair o' Thurles, the Careys gave three Cooneys
such a thrashing that it will be mighty quare thing entirely, if one
o' the three live to see next Christmas day. Take my word for it,
that the worst kind o' cattle in Ireland are the informers ; but this, your
honour, is the town of Callen : I don't go any farther — I hope you
won't forget myself, that's both guard an' driver." ' B. H.

ON THE HEAUTY OF SHAKSPEARE^S EPITHETS.

A MODERN writer on poetry, in one of his astounding dogmas, asserts,
that " all epithets are poetry."

It is not the intention of this essay to assert as much, or even to agree
to as much : all that it purposes to shew is, that some epithets are, in
their very essence, poetry — what these are, and what poets have been
most successful in the use of them.

Poetry does not consist only in a certain number of words or syllables
measured out in lines, but in thought, exalted above the level of every-
day thinking, expressed in words intended, and which must be so
received and understood, in their highest and most intellectual sense.
Nor is this all which is necessary to that first and finest species of writ-
ing : to elevated thoughts must be added justness and beauty of expres-
sion,— that justness and that beauty, which, while they confer dignity
and grace 011 what is even homely, add grandeur to what is great. The
finest aid to expression is certainly the Epithet- — used, not to eke out the
line, but to fill it full, almost to overflowing, with what it should con-
tain— poetry. There is more beauty in this beautiful part of poetic
painting than is discerned by the million. Perhaps it requires the fine
tact of a true poet, in the first place, to appreciate, and, in the second,
discreetly to use, this ornament. It is, indeed, a felicity of touch which
none but superior poets should attempt, for none but these can hope to
succeed : a mere coupler of rhymes, who aims at this excellence, will
most assuredly fail : it is " a grace beyond the reach" of his art. The
great masters of song have succeeded in it ; the " great small" have wisely
abstained, from a modest consciousness of its difficulty. The miraculous
effects in colouring which " savage Rosa dashed" into his pictures, in
his hands became spots of beauty — a painter of an inferior genius, daring
the same effects, would mar even what he had done well.

In dipping into obsolete poets — obsolete only because old — we some-
times derive a higher pleasure from an expressive epithet, in what fasti-
dious readers of the Muse would set down as a crude piece, than from
the most polished pieces of writers, whose utmost merit consisted in their
taste in appreciating and re-using the old jewels and golden ornaments
of minds undeniably rich in mental possessions, but, nevertheless, want-
ing in that judgment which is tutor to genius — the knowing how to use

648 The Beauty of Shakspeare's Epithets. [JUNE,

their genius to the best advantage. Who, indeed, that has a particle of
poetry in his soul, does not infinitely prefer the rocks and rugged places
of the early muse, with here and there a cataract, whose sounding waters
render the silence of her more stilly nooks delicious as the calm after the
summer storm, rattier than wandering by the " lazy Loires," and along
the smooth promenades, shaven grass-plots, and boxen alleys, where the
Wallers and Roscommons scattered the polite fumes of their poetry to
simpering beaux in bag-wigs, and mincing mistresses in hoops and
masks ? It is not to be denied that more of the wonders, the flowers,
the music, and the magic, of poetry, lies among the obscure Chapmans
Harringtons, Brownes, and Herricks, than among the " mob of gentle-
men who wrote with ease." The first are poets, with all their faults —
their polished rivals are not, with all their perfections. The present age
feels that there is none of the mens divinior to save them from oblivion —
none of the salt of genius to savour and keep them fresh for the hunger
of intellects to come. It is the native ore of poetry running in deep
veins through the ground over which the elder poets walked with di-
vining rods in their hands, which makes the saving difference between
them and their more refined followers.

But we are wandering from our immediate subject — the poetry of
epithet. Instances innumerable of almost an over-abundance of epithets
occur in Milton — a profusion which is not, perhaps, like the display of gems
in the crown of an emperor of Ind, necessary to our abstract notions of
his splendour, but which yet serve to impress us with Ms magnificence,
and convey a powerful sense of his abundant riches. This wealth of
mind is more especially observable in that greatest of all minor poems,
" Comus." Shakspeare is still more profuse in golden epithets — arrays
his lines in still more glorious clothing, and enriches them with gems
brought earlier from the same Golconda.

It is not, perhaps, quite out of the path of these remarks, to refer to
that beautiful little masque, in the third act of the Tempest, as the origin
of the style of Milton's. It may be conjectured, that lines like the fol-
lowing lingered like a delicious melody in the ear of Milton, and set
him to tune his solemn organ to the same harmony. — Listen to Shak-
speare's Iris, entering to music not sweeter than the verse she utters ! —

" Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas,
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep ;
Thy banks with peonied and lilied brims,
. Which spongy April at thy best betrims,

To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves,
Whose shadow the dismissed* bachelor loves,
Being lass-lorn ; thy pole-clipt vineyard ;
And thy sea-marge, steril, and rocky-hard,
Where thou thyself dost air, — the queen of the sky,
Whose watery arch and messenger am I,
Bids thee leave these ; and with her sovereign grace,
Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
. To come and sport : — her peacocks fly amain ;
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain."

This, as we have remarked, seems at once to have been the origin of

* This fine epithet tells as perfect a tale of unsuccessful wooing, as if volumes had
been wasted in narrating it.

1831.] The Beauty of Shakspeare' s Epithets. 649

the tone and manner * of " Comus" and of the beauty and expressive-
ness of its peculiar epithets. Milton,, when he produced his masque,
was young, and, if we may judge from his verses on Shakspeare, no very
cold or grudging admirer of the great dramatist. Indeed, it is apparent
that he had studied this masque attentively — he has even transplanted
the expressive epithet " bosky" into his own. There is, too, a passage
spoken by Prospero, beginning —

" Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves,
And ye that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
"When he comes back — "

which is still more (if we may use such an anachronism) full of Milton-
isms—it has, indeed, the true blank- verse flow and music of " Comus," as
well as that fitness of expression which he had caught from Shakspeare,
and which is only more generally characteristic of the style of Milton,
because he had more frequent literary opportunities for indulging in that
excellence. Hear Iris once more : —

" You nymphs, called Naiads, of the wandering brooks,
With your sedged crowns, and ever-harmless looks,
Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land
Answer your summons — Juno does command.
Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
A contract of true love : be not too late.
You sim-burn'd sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow, and be merry ;
Make holyday — your rye-straw hats put on,
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
In country footing."

What epithets can be more beautifully designed — more chaste — more
classical ? Milton, a thorough tactician in his art, has finely varied the
expression " country footing" into " chaste footing," and " fresh footing" —
expressive quaintnesses, evidently borrowed or imitated from him who can
afford to lend, but whom it is dangerous to imitate — Shakspeare. In
him these happy illustrations have all the appearance of being unconscious
and unimitated ; for it would be a difficult task to trace his beauties to
any other source than his own inexhaustible mind, and still more difficult
to detect any thing like apparent art in the working up and disposition
of his precious materials. But in Milton these adornments of his severe
style were, on the contrary, as certainly derived from sources not his
own. His imitations are sometimes, indeed, too palpable ; but such of
our readers as are curious in these matters may be gratified by going
through Todd's over-noted edition of " Comus," where he will find the
sources of many of Milton's finest epithets, and be convinced of the value
which he set on this ornament and grace of poetry.

As an instance of the value of a well-chosen epithet, that fine piece of
painting in " II Penseroso" —

* The writer is aware that some important resemblances in the mailer of this admirable
poem are said to exist in the " Comus" of Puteanus, and the " Old Wives' Tale" of
George Peele ; and that the manner is said to be imitated from the " Faithful Shepherdess,"
and Browne's " Inner Temple Masque ;" but who was the English model of these last-
mentioned writers ? — Shakspeare ; — the style of Jonson's Masques being modelled upon his.

M.M. New Scries.— VOL. XI. No. 66. 4 O

050 The Beauty of Shakspeartfs Epithets. [Ju>TE,

" Storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim, religious light,"

would be worth nothing if the word " religious" were taken from it.
Any coupleteer might have painted the rest of the picture ; but that
one beautiful touch bespeaks the true poet. To any eye, light streaming
through painted windows would appear dim, and serious ; any indifferent
observer would discern the soft and serene effect of such light upon the
objects within a sacred building ; but the true poet sees even what is
common ff with a difference." It must have been in one of these
moments that Milton, by a touch of his master-hand, struck in this fine
effect — and thus, by a happy expression, painted the peculiar medium of
the light, its softened and serious effect, and the sacredness of the place it
visited, as if it were poured into it from the fountain of all light in Heaven,
dedicated to its especial use, and made holy and, as it were, superior to
the common light of day. This is one of the many excellences of Mil-
ton, that if he puts even a common-place object in his picture, he throws
about it such a richness of colouring, as to render that truly beautiful
which, in other hands, would be trite, tedious, and nothing worth.

It is apparent, indeed, how highly the great poets have esteemed that
particular beauty in the painting of poetry which consists in epithets,
compound and single. Homer has his " cloud-compelling" and " earth-
shaking" Jove, with a thousand others, equally sonorous and significant. It
is only inferior poets who are deficient in these riches of expression ; in fact,
if it were wished to try the height and depth of mind ,of any professed
poet, we should search his works for specimens of this poetic painting ;
and if we found few or none of these abundancies, these prodigalities of
a mind full to overflowing with poetry, we might come to this bold, but
not unsafe conclusion, that there was little or no innate poetry in the
mind of that man. There is, indeed, more of the concentration and
essence of poetry in many epithets in Shakspeare, in the rough lines of
old Chapman, the full lines of Milton, and later than him, in Herrick,
and even in the quaint and despised Quarles, than can be discovered in
the entire works of many of the persons of quality who wrote " after the
manner of Mr. Pope," that admirable master of more dunces than he has
named in his Dunciad.

It requires, perhaps, " the poet's eye" to discern the nicety of such an
epithet as the " lily-wristed morn j" yet, whoever has noticed the wrist-
like bend of that beautiful flower, must recognise the resemblance, if they
cannot feel all its beauty and delicacy. There is, perhaps, more of the
painting of poetry in that fine Homeric compound in one of Chapman's
hymns — " brute-footed Pan," and something which more vividly places
before us the express image of the Arcadian god, than we should catch
from a page of minute description. Drummond of Hawthornden, who
deals largely in beauties of this kind, has a similar piece of portrait paint-
ing, if I may so call it, where he speaks of the " goat-feet sylvans"
coming among the

" Nymphs of the forests, nymphs who on the mountains
Are wont to dance, shewing their beauties' treasure"

to these fine monster-men of the old world of imagination.

But he " who exhausted worlds, and then imagined new" — Shak-
speare, is the greatest painter in these brief pictures. The " well-

.1831.] The Beauty of Shakspeare' s Epithets. 651

apparelled April treading on the limping heels of Winter," is as perfect a
piece of painting as any thing on canvass. How beautifully descriptive,
too, is the epithet " well-apparelled," and how much more palpably does
it describe that delicious month of flowers and foliage than any more ela-
borate description .could have done, though as particular in its details
and over-minute as some of those of the author of " The Seasons." *

Yet although we admire the beauty, and advocate the use of epithets
in poetry, we are free to confess that this ornament has been used to an
excess, at once ridiculous and destructive of the effect intended; and
instead of being a beauty, became a disfiguring of beauty. Shakspeare,
who so well knew the nobler use of the epithet, knew also where it might
be misused ; this he has amusingly caricatured in bully Bottom's " raging
rocks with shivering shocks ;" and in the player-king in Hamlet.

Epithets may, indeed, mean too much or too little ; there may be too
many as well as too few. A school of these prodigal epithet-mongers
sprung up after Darwin — whose style of description, at the best,
trenched very close upon the borders of burlesque, and if at all exag-
gerated by an indiscreet admirer of his (< foreign ornaments," necessarily
and inevitably passed the border-line. These ill-starred imitators of the
Doctor were known in their day as the English Delia Cru scans, — a
pestilential set of butterfly-gilders and gossamer-weavers, whom Mr.
Gilford, in his mighty wrath, swept away with an unmerciful broom,
when a ' ' particular hair" of it was potent enough to destroy the entire
race, and break down all their cobweb-looms. These wretched dog-
grelists were, indeed, the worst disgrace that ever befel the English
muse. They succeeded in bringing poetry for a time into contempt,
especially the poetry of epithet ; from which the one has recovered,
but the other has never since held up its beautiful head. It may be
hoped, however, that this, which is one of the grander graces of poetry,
will again revive in all the glory of the days of Spenser, Shakspeare, Chap-
man, and Milton, to the adornment of poesy, and the delight of better
tastes in all that is Cf beautiful and true."

* The following instances, among thousands, of the force and fertility of Shakspeare's
power in this delightful art of painting, are selected at random from two or three of his
plays :—

The all-ending day of doom. A beauty-waning Widow. The pew-fellow of

Remorse. The silver livery of advised Age. A key-cold Corpse. Grim-visaged

War. Tardy-gaited Night. A lion-gaited Demon. High-sighted Tyranny.

Honour-owing wounds. The beneficial Sun. Misery crammed with distressful

bread. All-scorned Poverty. Short-armed Ignorance. The glass-faced Flatterer.

Black-cornered Night. Tiger-footed Rage. The beached verge of the salt flood.

The napless vesture of Humility. The honey-heavy dew of slumber. The

chair-days of most reverend Age.

The last is as perfect a picture as artist could paint. It would be easy to extend the
number of these examples from Shakspeare, and from others ; but they are enough for the
purpose.

4 O 2

[ 652 ] [JUNE,

APHORISMS ON MAN, BY THK LATK WILLIAM HAZLITT.

[C&ntinued from last Month.']

LXVII.

The error of Mandeville, as well as of those opposed to him, is in
concluding that man is a simple and not a compound being. The
schoolmen and divines endeavour to prove that the gross and material
part of his nature is a foreign admixture, distinct from and unworthy of
the man himself. The misanthropes and sceptics, on the other hand,
maintain the falsity of all human virtues, and that all that is not sensual
and selfish is a mere theatrical deception. But in order that man should
be a wholly and incorrigibly selfish being, he should be shut up like
an oyster in its shell, without any possible conception of what passes
beyond the wall of his senses ; and the feelers of his mind should not
extend their ramifications under any circumstances or in any manner,
to the thoughts and sentiments of others. Shakspeare has expressed
the matter better than the pedants on either side, who wish unreason-
ably to exalt or degrade human nature. — " The web of our lives is as
of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud,
if our faults whipped them not, and our vices would despair, if they
were not cherished by our virtues."

LXVIII.

People cry out against the preposterous absurdity of such representa-
tions as the German inventions of the Devil's Elixir and the Bottle Imp.
Is it then a fiction that we see ? Or is it not rather a palpable reality
that takes place every day and hour ? Who is there that is not haunted
by some heated phantom of his brain, some wizard spell, that clings
to him in spite of his will, and hurries him on to absurdity or ruin ?
There is no machinery or phantasmagoria of a melo-drame more extra-
vagant than the workings of the passions. Mr. Farley may do his worst
with scaly forms, with flames, and dragon's wings : but after all, the
true demon is within us. How many, whose senses are shocked at the
outward spectacle, and who turn away startled or disgusted might say,
pointing to their bosoms, " The moral is here !"

LXIX.

Mr. L asked Sir Thomas who had been intimate with the

Prince, if it was true that he was so fine a gentleman as he was

generally represented ? Sir Thomas — • made answer, that it was

certainly true that the Prince was a very fine gentleman indeed:
" but," added he, " if I am to speak my mind, the finest gentleman
I ever saw, was Sadi Baba, the ambassador to Constantinople, from the
Usbek Tartars."

LXX.

" Man is in no haste to be venerable/' At present, it seems as if
there were no occasion to become so. People die as usual ; but it is not
the fashion to grow old. Formerly, men subsided and settled down
into a respectable old age at forty, as they did into a bob-wig, and a brown
coat and waistcoat of a certain cut. The father of a family no longer
pretended to pass for a gay young fellow, after he had children grown
up ; and women dwindled, by regular and willing gradations, into
mothers and grandmothers, transferring their charms and pretensions to
a blooming posterity ; but these things are never thought of now-a-days.
A matron of sixty flaunts it in (t La Belle Assembler's dresses for May :"
and certainly M. Stultz never inquires into the grand climacteric of his
customers. Dress levels all ages as well as all ranks.

1831.] [ 653 ]

NOTES OF THE MONTH ON AFFAIRS IN GENERAL.

How utterly impossible is it to change national temperaments. The
French are again hawking their frippery of ribbons and medals round
Europe. A French paper, by the characteristic title of Le Voleur,
announces to delighted mankind, that the decoration of the Legion of
Honour is to be bestowed upon " several distinguished foreigners, and,
among others, upon Sir Walter Scott, Goethe, Cooper, Sismondi, Ber-
zelius, B. Cormenbach, Sir Astley Cooper and Thorwaldsen." We are
to presume in this matter two things : that France is constituted the
grand European tribunal of merit, and that the persons in question will
look upon themselves as prodigiously honoured by the pitifulness of a
bit of red ribbon tied to their buttonholes ; an honour, by-the-bye, as
common in France as esquire to a name in England. The vanity of the
thing should be confined to military men, who have a taste for those
matters, and the "Decoration," as it is called, worn by the rabble of
the Napoleon soldiery, should not be suffered to insult the dignity of
science and literature.

But we are sinking into this foolery even here, and the public are still
molested with proposals for a " bit of red ribbon" for the members of the
Royal Society and half a dozen other societies. This, of course, will be
scouted by the remaining good sense of their members. But what are
we to think of the new corps of warriors summoned to the levees of
St. James's. We give, from a tailor's advertisement, the mise en cam-
pagne of this eminent battalion — •" Deputy Lord Lieutenant's coat
£9. 9s. ; pantaloons, £2. 12s. 6d. ; epaulettes, £5. 5s. ; sword, £3. 3s ;
sword-knot, £1. lls. 6d. ; sash, £5. 5s. ; sword-belt, 18s., and cocked-
hat, £4. 14s. 6(1," We congratulate the levees, on this addition to their
brilliancy, and the country on the acquisition of a legion who will,
doubtless, render signal service in case of an invasion from the moon ;
the bill itself too is a curious specimen of the art of making up a military
reputation : we see the sword costing little more than half the price of
the sash or the epaulettes, and the laced coat costing three times the
sum. What foolery is all this, for the dress of men whose whole office
is civil, where it is not a sinecure. But this is the court dress ; as if the
levees were not overdone with red coats already, and looked much more
like a parade in front of the horseguards, or the crowd in the commander-
in-chief 's waiting room, than the assemblage of British gentlemen round
a British king. Even this crowd must be increased by covering the
simple country squires, who perform Deputy Lieutenant, with scarlet
and buckram and bullion, and hanging sabres by their sides, and making
them look as like field-marshals, heaven help the mark ! as tailorism and
tinsel can make them.

Shakspeare was wrong in his maxim, that " if a man wishes to be re-
membered six months after he is dead he must build churches." Napoleon
was not eminent for his services in this style, and yet he is talked of still,
or rather, he has started into a sudden revival ; himself, his snuff-taking,
his battles, his empresses, his embroidered coats and his chargers, bay,
white and black, have sprung up at once before the world's eye after
ten years of slumber, and all the theatres of France, where he was ana-
thematized, and of England, where he was a politic enemy, now teem
with Napoleonism. Co vent Garden has for a fortnight filled its enormous

654 Notes of the Month on [JUN.E,

theatre with sharpshooters, flying artillery, and generals of division, in
conformity to the spirit of the time. Drury Lane, after an attempt to
resist this incursion of the great invader, by looking for allies to the hero
of Tartary, sustained by cavalry from the opposite side of Westminster-
bridge ; and summoning the queen of Georgia to hazard the fairest of
necks down the deepest of pasteboard precipices, has at last given way
to the " pressure of existing circumstances," that grand foundation of all
the politics of men and theatres, and is about to represent Napoleon in
" Interlude," leaving the Tragique to its great rival, and the comique to
the whole circle of the suburbs. That after ages may not suspect us of
having dealt unfairly with them, we recal some of the announcements of
this " universal passion."

t( Covent Garden. — A spectacle presenting on the boards of one of our great
national theatres, with all their capacity for scenic illusion, some of Bona-
parte's most extraordinary acts, was, doubtless, calculated to excite no small
curiosity, and accordingly a crowded audience assembled to witness the first
representation of Mr. Lacy's grand historical military play. The drama has
been got up at an immense expense, and every thing which appertains to it
is gorgeous (yet, at the same time, appropriate) in the extreme. Instead of
the usual drop-scene at the conclusion of each part, a splendid crimson cur-
tain, elegantly embroidered and flowered with gold, presents itself; and after
the death of the hero, a black curtain, rather a sombre novelty, descends.
The spectacle was divided into seven parts, and it was announced that, in
consequence of the length to which these extended, no other piece would be
performed on that evening."

The rest is a detail of the plot, but closing with the acknowledgment
that the tribute of bright eyes had been given to it, on the earliest oppor-
tunity.

" Miss Fanny Kemble, accompanied by her mother, her accomplished
sister, and her aunt, Miss De Camp, occupied a centre box in the dress circle,
on the first night of Napoleon Bonaparte. Miss Fanny Kemble was so deeply
affected by many of the incidents, in the rapid, but eventful life of the hero,
as to shed tears."

The rival ambition of the neighbour theatre was thus declared at the
same time.

" Drury Lane. — After the play of Alfred the Great, Timour the Tartar was
acted. The splendid processions, the combats, and Cooke's beautiful horses
added to the interest of the drama, made the performance go off with eclat.
The principal characters were most ably represented by H. Wallack, Cooper,
Misses Huddart, S. Phillips, and Poole. Miss Huddart, who has greatly
improved, particularly distinguished herself. The bipeds were deservedly
admired, but the horses were ' applauded to the echo, which did applaud
again.' The spirit of competition is now thoroughly awake between the
managers —

" t When horse meets horse, then comes the tug of war/ "

It was not to be supposed that Astley's, which dares all the flights of
history, and has both the hero and the horses at first cost, would have
abandoned so illustrious a prize ; — impossible.

" Astley's. — A new drama, called the Life and Death of Napoleon Bonaparte,
has been produced here, with the most perfect success. The splendid scenery,
the fine effect produced by the introduction of Ducrow's noble stud on the
stage, and the striking resemblance which Mr. Gomersal bears to the portraits
of Napoleon, give a degree of spirit and reality to the action, which well
entitles it to the unequivocal approbation it received."

1831.] A/airs in General. 655

The other theatres are drilling with the greatest rapidity, and the
sounds of trumpet, drum and gun, are hourly startling the echoes from
London Bridge to that unaccountable structure, which spans the river at
Hammersmith.

Every man of fame must pay for it, and one of the penalties of a
notorious wag is, to bear the scandal of all the jokes, wicked and witty,
that are born while he is in the meridian. Every body knows the
reverend wag of the Whigs. Some one remarked to him, that Colonel
P — — was a man of great ' mental qualifications.' * Which do you
mean ?' was the Divine's reply, ( sentimental or regimental ?'

On the Chancellor's talking over with him the late scene in the Lords,
and asking whether he did not think the rebuke was deserved ? " Per-
fectly," said the wag, " only that the dish might not have been the worse
for your mixing a little less pepper with your mace."

On its being rumoured, that an individual, who has at length been
brought into the peerage, was so discontented at the delay of the step,
that he had intended to renounce his name. fe That would be contrary
to Pope and prudence together," said the wag, " for he is every thing
by Fitz—.",

The Bishop of Exeter's elevation had astonished all men but the
Duke of Wellington, whom nothing astonishes, but his own tumble.
" That he should be Fill-pot, might be expected," said the wag, " from
his birth, education and manners ; the wonder is, that he should be
Fill-mitre/'

Why should the Duke of Beaufort be so angry with the Sunday paper
for talking of his settlements ? " Did you ever," said the wag, " hear
of a Duke who liked to have Spectators of his family secrets."

When the second reading of the Reform Bill was carried by the majo-
rity of o?ie; somebody observed, that the premier should be much
obliged to number one. " It was mere gratitude," said the wag ;
" for there is not a man in England who has always taken better care of
number one."

" What will become of the whippers-in now," said a sage of Brookes's
the other evening, ' ' when the people will take the lash into their own
hands, and drive us from our newspapers and coffee-rooms to the house ?*'
" Never fear," said the wag, " the office will be always useful ; party
always hunts in packs ; the only difference in the Whigs now and fifty
years ago is, that then they were ^/bar-hounds, and now they are grey-
hounds."

Paganini and Colonel Fitzclarence are at present the Lions, and the
world has not been so perplexed with paragraphs since the arrival of
Miss Jelk at the Adelphi. The Colonel's elevation to the peerage has
been celebrated in the loftiest strains in various quarters ; and as he is
really a good humoured fellow, and has conducted himself without any
of the absurdities into which young men often run, when they think that
they have a strong purse behind them ; we can feel no objection to his
obtaining a rank, to which nine-tenths of its holders have not a much
fairer claim. But there is a little feature of the general panegyric which
points it peculiarly, and which we have no doubt the Colonel would
prefer to all the newspaper magnifications. After mentioning that the
titles by which this lucky individual has been raised to the peer-

656 Notes of the Month on [JUNE,

age of Great Britain, are Baron Tewkesbury, Viscount Fitzclarence
and Earl of Munster, it proceeds : " This just distinction in the person
of our beloved Monarch's son, is a source of two-fold gratification, inas-
much, as a mark of honour has been conferred on a meritorious officer,
without adding to the expenditure of the nation, as the Earl of Egre-
mont, the father of the Countess of Munster, has in the most munificent
manner settled £8000. per annum on her ladyship.'* The settlement
would be an agreeable thing enough ; but, unhappily, it wants con-
firmation.

The John Bull adopts the subject con amore, and upon saying, in its
peculiar style, " On this creation there can be but one opinion," takes
the " Leading Journal" fiercely to task for the crime of thinking one
thing in May 1831, and another in December 1830. How innocent in
the history of newspapers must John Bull be ! The December ideas
were —

" The irregular scions of a certain illustrious House are becoming trouble-
some. We do not wish to be particular : we trust that the young men and
women to whom we allude are not so blinded by infatuated conceit as not to
take a hint. Is this a time to make claims without SERVICE ? Is the mere
accident of left-handed birth to be a ground for honours or wealth ? One
thing we can confidently predict. If, as it is said, the clamorous progeny have
put forth pretensions which ought not to be listened to, the parent who has
magnanimously and patriotically REFUSED the appeal, will have acquired a fresh
title to public admiration and affection. It is a maxim of the law that the
King can do no wrong. What a noble moral, as well as political comment, on
this maxim would it be, ' that the King will do no wrong.' "

The ideas in May were —

" A peerage, with the rank of an earl, is to be conferred on Colonel Fitz-
clarence. The relationship of this gentleman to the fountain of honour, united
to his high attainments, moral worth, and professional reputation, entitle him to
such a mark of paternal regard ; and the public cannot but rejoice that it will
be conferred."

John forgets the difference of the seasons ; the sour side of politics
presented under the gloomy skies of an English winter, and the pro-
pensity to look on every thing eouleur de rose, in the rosy month of
May. He may rely on our solution of the problem ; the political cholera
so far differs from the personal one, that its chief propagation is in the
winter.

We regret to say that the two great champions of political rights and
unfettered religion in Ireland, are spreading very unfavourable opinions
of each other. Criticisms on general conduct, in the shape of scoundrel,
vagabond, and similarly expressive phrases, are passing under the canopy
of day, and in the presence of the " finest pisantry under the sun," to
the great amusement and edification of all. An election assuredly brings
out the bitterness lurking in patriot minds, as French polish the veins in
mahogany ; or a game of whist the propensities of a partie quarree of
ancient spinsters. Let their bosom friends vouch for the likeness ; we take
it for granted on the respective authorities. But where shall we find the
tears that are due to broken friendship ? Or how shall Protestants re-
member, without agony, that those individuals were, for many years of
their lives, compatriots, colleagues, bosom friends, sworn brothers in the
cause of "Old Ireland," and yet never suspected each other's good quali-

1831,] Affairs in General. 657

ties till " the demon of discord/' in the shape of a contested election,
stirred up blood between them. The thought must throw the whole
community into convulsions.

Europe has lost another crowned head. And the newspapers mention
the epochs of this illustrious personage's life, as —

" Strange Coincidences. — All the particular events of the late King of Sar-
dinia's life occurred in the month of April. He was born on the 6th of April,
married on the 6th of April, ascended the throne on the 19th of April, and
died on the 27th of April."

So much for the grand events of a king's life ; he was born, married
and died ! The same might be said of any cobbler in his majesty's do-
minions. But why, among so many memorable days of his favourite
month, did the historian omit the day that threw its influence over his
whole reign, thejirst of April ?

The Literary Gazette says, that Decimus Burton is appointed perma-
nent architect to the Zoological Society, with a salary of £150 a year.

The Age asks, " What in the world has a society for the propagation
and support of foreign and domestic birds, beasts, fishes, and insects, to
do with a permanent architect— and what can that permanent architect
have to do to merit £150 per annum !" We answer, that an architect is
evidently wanting for the purpose. Lions and tigers, boa constrictors,
and blue-rumped baboons, though long-lived, are not immortal, and who
but a regular architect could make any resemblance of them sufficient to
satisfy the eyes of the nursery-maids through the bars of a cage ; while in
those matters a practised hand can do wonders. When Sheridan carried
Johnson, the monster-manufacturer of Drury Lane, to Exeter Change, to
treat for the hire of the elephant there for Bluebeard ; the monster-
man's memorable answer, full of the offended dignity of his art, was,
" Mr. Sheridan, you may cut me down to half salary, if I don't make
you a better elephant than this brute." We have no doubt that the new
architect will accomplish the point, and as the show is every thing, he
will more than repay his salary by the saving in forage ; a wooden tiger,
or a lion of cradle-work and straw, will answer the purpose of the cockney
naturalists, full as well as if he had come roaring from the deserts of the
Great Zahara, while the expenditure of beef and bones may be diverted to
more valuable purposes. Besides, it must be obvious to every person of
taste, that the making of the cages themselves, the twisting of so many
bundles of wires, the peeling of so many faggots of osier, and the juxta-
position of so many planks of deal, or as the great Lexicographer says,
" the reticulation and decussation of the ligneous fabric with interstices
between the intersections," must all require an architect of the first
dimensions, and one whose services would be wretchedly underpaid by
£150 a year; no more than the salary of three curates.

A Character.—" He is a very surprising person— take his military services
— his consistent policy — his official activity — his universal knowledge — his
general readiness — the quickness of his conception, and the clearness of his
understanding — take them altogether, I say — and — and— you may put them
all into his duchess's thimble !"

Who on earth can this distinguished person be ? He must be known
among the memorables of a country rich in statesmen, both heroes and

M.M. New Scries. VOL. XI.— No. 66. 4 P

658 Notes of the Month on [JuNE,

dukes. Which of the dukes is he ? Not the duke of Buckingham, for
he is only a colonel of militia. Not the Duke of Bedford, for his public
services have hitherto extended no further than firing a shot at the Duke
of Buckingham's belly, which, incredible as it may appear, he actually
missed. Not the Duke of Beaufort, for he disclaims, under his hand, all
public service. The " readiness, quickness of conception, and clear-
ness of understanding" render it so applicable to all dukes whatever, that
we feel ourselves puzzled more and more. It cannot be the Duke of
Richmond.

This is the month of diversity of opinion, which we impute entirely
to the unsettled state of the weather. The man who, after throwing off his
cloak under a temperature of 212, finds himself suddenly immersed in a
north-east wind, blowing fresh from the pole, and reducing every fibre
in his frame to 50 below zero; or who on relinquishing his winter cos-
tume for the gaieties of a spring suit, and discarding his umbrella, dis-
covers that he has been only preparing to be drowned in a November
deluge in the merry month of May ; cannot possibly settle his mind to
any reasonable equanimity in general matters. He fluctuates with the
hour. Thus we see that the most determined Tories have quivered over
into absolute Whiggery at the sight of the hustings. Thus we see the
popularity even of the illustrious, ripe to the highest degree of luxuriance
on Saturday in the city, and on Monday flat as the wit of an alderman,
and maltreated by the eloquence of the common council. The same un-
certainty has penetrated even the tranquil regions of the arts. Rothwell,
the painter, is declared by one file of connoisseurs to be the greatest
genius since Reynolds, and by another plunged to Erebus. Even our
national luminaries, Mathews and Yates, share in the general taste for
discrepancy. One of our first authorities in theatrical matters thus
decides :

" We have very frequently expressed our surprise at the continued variety
of material exhibited year after year by Mathews in his entertainments ; but
we must confess, that this season he appears not only to have regenerated his
fun and humour, but to have revivified himself — the Comic Annual, now per-
forming, is decidedly the best of any of the things he has yet done.

Others declare this " comic annual " to be the very dullest compilation
of dulness ever exhibited on any mortal stage.
The critic again.

" In Yates's part of the performance the rapidity with which he changes
his dress and alters his appearance, from man to woman, from beau to bar-
maid, and from barmaid to bandit, is absolutely marvellous.

Others equally protest that Yates's part is, if possible, duller than
Mathews's ; that his change of dress is the only merit, and that this is
merely the merit of a clothes-horse, or a wig-block ; that his dialogue is
the last desperation of the dregs of punning, and his characters something
between Punch and Mr. Merryman, a pack of mongrels that would hurt
the feelings of Bartlemy fair. " Who shall decide when doctors/' &c.
However, this is to be remembered, that Yates and Mathews are but the
reciters, that the " drame" belongs to somebody or bodies else, and thus
they are not answerable for the crimes of their principals in the exhuma-
tion of puns long dead, or the inhuman and open murder of good
stories recently in existence. They are both clever fellows, and whether
dancing or singing, we wish them all the success they deserve.

1831.] Affairs in General. 659

The consequences of fire are so terrible, that we cannot be surprised
at finding models of fire-escapes perpetually offered to the public. A
few nights ago, one of those machines, on a new construction, was exhi-
bited in the London Mechanics' Institution. In point of time it sur-
passes all others, as it seems possible to convey it up the front of a house
to a third story, and for a person to descend by it within two minutes,
and for four other persons to descend in the third minute. Were such
machines placed in the hands of the police, and at short distances, it
would be doubtful whether a life would ever be lost.

And all this is very well, where there is time to erect the machine, where
the people about it are expert enough, and where the machine itself is in
order, which nothing of the kind ever has been within our memory. At
the moment of use, cords, wheels, and hinges, are jumbled into a state of
confusion, and the wisest thing to be done is to take the machine away.

The truth is, that there is no machine equal to a good long ladder, of
which a couple should be kept under the care of the policeman in every
street, with a rope or two to lower furniture, &c. In fires, the great
thing that is wanted is time ; and while the fine invention is bringing to
the spot, and there piecing and putting together, the house and its
dwellers are a cinder. In private houses fires are extremely rare, and as
they seldom contain any peculiarly combustible matter, the first object of
the family should be to make their way down to the hall door. But in
shops, where almost everything is furiously combustible, from milliners'
boxes to gunpowder barrels ; where varnish, tar, hemp, brandy, and a
hundred other of the fiercest materials of fire are in the way ; the first
step should be to the roof, where a few minutes would place a whole
household in safety, while the attempt to make their way down stairs
is almost always fatal. But let Mr. Wivell, or any one else, exert his
ingenuity on this subject. It cannot be better employed. His alarm
bells, however, appear to us to be mere trifling. They are thus de-
scribed in the Scientific Magazine : — Mr. Wivell proposes fire alarm bells,
that are well adapted to give notice in case of fire, and which may be
put up at a small expense. One bell is placed on a spring, in the lower
part of the house, and another at the upper part, with a communication
by means of threads over pullies. It is supposed that it would not be
possible for the stairs to take fire before those threads are burnt, in
which case the bells would ring and give every person opportunity to
escape."

This is all folly. How long would this string-upon-string affair be
kept in order ? Not a month, in any house dwelt in by anything more
living than an old woman and her cat. The complacent progress of the
fire ringing its well-bred way upstairs, would be admirable in a lord of
the bedchamber, but Vulcan was always an unpolished fellow, and he
feels no hesitation in breaking into boudoirs and bedchambers without
being announced in any form whatever.

This is the age of early genius. We are now beginning to discover
the use of " big boys," a race which we have hitherto thought the most
troublesome incumbrances of a house ; neither boy nor man, with the
frowardness of the one, and the self-will and stubbornness of the other.
But the " Honourable House" rectifies our notion, and shews that it can
endure them, if no other house can.

4 P 2

G60 Notes of the Month on [JUNE,

We have now at least a dozen of those boys, in their first cravats,
spouting from the back benches, and playing tlie orator with a desperate
ambition of Pitt, and his Chancellorship of the Exchequer at twenty-
four. Among the rest we shall, we presume, have on the first opportu-
nity, the Honourable Mr. Wentworth, a son of Lord Milton, who in-
herits the combined genius of his father and grandfather, and speaks as
well at seventeen as either of them ever spoke in their lives. At the
Northampton poll, Sir Charles Knightley had praised the conduct of the
county. He said " that county presented an exception to the conduct pur-
sued in most others. Their answer to the appeal of ministers was a re-
sponse of indignation at their iniquitous measure. If it were true that
in the event of their finding a majority of the House of Lords against
them, it was the intention of ministers to create new peers in order to
force this bill, then he would say the ministers were traitors to their
country. He was loyal, and was trying to preserve the crown in spite
of itself and of its evil advisers."

In rebuke of this English sentiment, the Honourable Mr. Went-
worth, just turned of seventeen, by the register, and the avowal of his
eminent father, made the following brilliant similitude : —

" The Honourable Mr. Wentworth observed, that if ever they had seen, as
he had done, a salmon when first hooked, and when it was possessed of all
its strength, they would know that it would lie perfectly quiet; but when its
strength was becoming nearly exhausted, it would suddenly jump up in the
air some ten yards, and then fall back quite dead. Such was nearly the case
with their opponents ; they had jumped up the other day, and now they lie
lifeless. They had been told that there were a great many votes yet unde-
cided before the assessor, and he was glad there were ; for from all he could
see or hear, he believed a majority of them would be decided in favour of his
father."

After this, who will say that the days of eloquence are gone by ; or
invoke the shades of Pitt and Burke, to account for the nonsense that
drivels from the souls of modern legislators. " Paulo majora canamus,"
as Canning said, when Burdett shot Paul. We are bound to worship
the new star of York and Fitzwilliam.

There seems to be some extraordinary fate in the history of ladies*
jewels. All the large collections are stolen at one time or other ; and
the thief always escapes detection. We do not include among those
phenomena the vanishing of a favourite actress's jewels, because, the
actress having generally found their acquisition a matter of remarkable
€ase, the loss does not affect her spirits, and she generally discovers
among her acquaintance some opulent jewel-fancier, who rapidly rein-
states her emeralds and rubies. It may also happen, occasionally, among
those ingenious and irresistible daughters of the muse, that the robbery
was actually a gentler separation, a simple adjournment from the boudoir
to the money-lender, who held them in trust for a thousand or two : or that
the simple tidings of their calamitous loss might furnish an opportunity
of generous interposition to some heir of the peerage, or son of a fat
citizen, who had not fortitude enough to see beauty weep, and weep in
vain.

But in all the bona-fide disappearances of jewels, where the lady was
not a public beauty, had not the art of irresistible tears, nor the advantage
of an universal acquaintance, we never heard of their being recovered.

1831.] v Afairs in General. 661

There is something curious in this. Lady Sophia Gresley lost all her
ornaments lately : not a pin of them has ever emerged. Lady Nelson's
jewels are at this moment keeping all the policemen on the alert, but
not a syllable of intelligence has transpired. The conjecture is that a
woman was at the bottom of the mischief; which, in all cases of mischief,
Socrates said above two thousand years ago, is the most natural of all
conclusions. The story is thus told : —

" Lady Nelson had heen expecting some relatives from the country, and
was sitting in the drawing-room, when a knock and ring were given at the
street-door. The servant answered it, and, to appearance, a shabbily dressed
woman inquired if that was Lord Nelson's ? On being answered in the affir-
mative, she asked if his lordship was at home, and if riot, if her ladyship
was, and giving her name to the servant, he left the woman in the hall to
inform his mistress. On the servant's return the woman was gone, but not,
as he had supposed, out of the house, the street-door having been heard to
shut in his absence, but must have secreted herself in some closet, or corner
of the interior. Shortly afterwards Lady Nelson departed in her carriage to
chapel, and it was during her absence that the robbery was effected. Her
ladyship did not discover her loss till about twelve at night, when she was
about to retire, and observing- that the trunk which contained her jewels
appeared to project over the escrutoire, on which it was standing, rather more
than usual, she pushed it back, and she then found that the leather-case and
strap were all that remained."

The police were called in, without any result, of course. The servants
were all examined, equally without result, of course. The odd conjec-
tures of the fate of the Princess of Orange's jewels, and their purloiner,
flash upon us now and then. But what is there in this world's round
on which malice will not fasten. The wags are already amusing them-
selves with the affair, and congratulating the Countess on her having
still preserved to her, by the bounty of fate, the reverend old Earl. One
of the papers says : " The robbery at Earl Nelson's during the absence
of his Lordship, is the subject of much conversation. It is said a minia-
ture was stolen from her Ladyship's chamber, which she valued exceed-
ingly. This was, probably, a likeness of her venerable husband, and
her chief consolation in his absence."

The present lady is his Lordship's second wife, and has been married
but a few years. She is now the only Lady Nelson. The wife of the
great Nelson, the Duchess of Bronte, died a few weeks ago.

Cobbett was always a vigorous hater, when he knew on which side he
intended to hate ; but he has settled down into a hatred of the Whigs,
and among them one of his chief present abhorrences is, old Coke of
Norfolk, whom he gallantly threatens with being compelled to refund, in
the contingency of Reform. This statement is fierce, eccentric and
amusing.

. " I wondered what could make Coke so bitter an enemy of a man who had
never spoken ill of him, who had always been exhorting him not to lend
himself to the schemes of loan-jobbers, pensioners, sinecure placemen, and
grantees; little did I imagine that he was a grantee himself, and had been all
his life-time : little did I imagine that this great landowner, this munificent
patron of agriculture, this independent representative of the land ; little did I
imagine that he was the grantee of Dungeness light-house, through the means
of which he had drawn from the nation two or three hundred thousand pounds !
He has recently said, that after being half a century a Member of Parliament,

Notes ty the Month -on QJtmE>

he has at last lived to see the wishes of his life accomplished ; that one of his
wishes always was a repeal of the Test Acts, another the emancipation of the
Catholics, the last and greatest of all, a Reform of the Parliament ; and that
now, having seen this, he, almost in the words of Simeon, calls upon the Lord
to suffer him to depart in peace ; for he has now seen every thing accom-
plished. No, Mr. Coke, stay a little longer, I pray you : there is one thing
more which you will see accomplished if you stay a little longer ; namely,
the resumption by the nation of the Dungeness light-house ; for if a reformed
Parliament sit out one session without a resumption of that grant, be well
assured that the people, who will certainly make this reform, will call loudly
for another/'

We should like to know whether an action would not lie, for charging
a man with quoting Latin above his fifteenth year. We think that the
action would be a good one, on the ground of its imputing folly to the
individual. A contemporary avers that soon after Mr. Granby Calcraft's
marriage with Miss Love, the young gentleman called upon his father,
who noticing his son's altered looks, thus addressed him, in the language
of Terence : —

" Adeone homines immutari,
Ex amore, ut non cognoscas eundem esse ?"

which may be literally translated — " That a man should be so changed
by Love as not to be known again for the same person !" We doubt
the whole transaction. In the first place, we doubt that the memory
of a senator so accomplished should be burthened with the recollection
of ever having read Terence; and, in the next, we doubt that any
alteration in the happy husband's face, by marriage, was visible. The
subject is too mysterious for any thing but Dr. Lushington and the
proctors.

The Irish militia behaved gallantly in the field, in the rebellion of
1798, but all their colonels were not Alexanders and Napoleons. — A
certain Colonel, at the battle of Vinegar-hill, found out, just before the
action commenced, that his horse wanted a shoe. An aid-de-camp of
the general met him retiring, and observing his body well covered under
the near side of his horse's neck, drew his sabre, and applied it heartily to
the seat of the withdrawing soldier, accompanying it with the exclama-
tion — " Heads up, my boy ! what the devil are you afraid of?" The
Colonel, smarting with the pain of the blow, could not resist rising in
the saddle, when the wild Pat burst into a loud fit of laughter, sing-*
ing out, <{ Ah ha ! ah ha ! Is it you ? I hope I did not hurt you ?
But, by my soul, it was a smart slap I gave you," and away he galloped
roaring to tell the adventure to his general. The story was too good not
to be retold, and it got into general circulation. Soon after the Union,
the Colonel came to England, as the wider field of action. At Carltori
House, at which he was soon introduced, he was invited to a large dinner-
rty, one of whom had seen the affair. The Prince called upon
im to relate the anecdote of Vinegar-hill ; he attempted to avoid it, but,
pushed hard, he gave the whole relation with his national humour.
" Ah, ah, is that true ?" asked the Prince : the Colonel, with great ease,
replied, " Please your Royal Highness, it is very true. My mare threw a
shoe, and I rode away to find a farrier ; and, by Jupiter, before she -Vas
shod the action was over !"

pa
hi

1831.] Affairs in General. 663

Windsor, and Bushy, and Brighton, and St. James's are all on the
alert. The summer is to be the gayest that ever was known, and her
Majesty's relatives are honouring England by their visits. The Ger-
mans are very good people, but they certainly have very numerous
families.

" The Duchess Ida of Saxe Weimar. — This illustrious lady, who has arrived
from Rotterdam, is the younger sister of the Queen, and was united to Duke
Bernard Charles, of Saxe Weimar Eisenach, in 1816, at the age of 24. The
reigning Duke of Saxe Meiningen is the only brother of Her Majesty and the
Duchess Ida, and succeeded to the family territory in 1803, at which period
he was only three years of age. His mother, the duchess dowager, adminis-*
tered the government till December, 1821, when the duke completed his 21st
year. The extent of the territory of Saxe Meiningen is about equal to 680
square English miles, and the population is estimated at 140,000. The prin-
cipal town, Meiningen, contains nearly 5,000 inhabitants."

We must thank the course of a kind fate for every thing, and we may
thus rejoice in the possession of a great many interesting foreigners ;
some of whom we pension very handsomely. By degrees we shall get
rid of our English names, and Victorines will be the fashion ; the price
of Meershaums has risen already, and we understand that more yellow
mustachios will be worn during the winter months of June, July, and
August, than were ever visible since the Saxon Heptarchy. We only
hope that the ladies will not adopt them.

The Irish proverb that — " single misfortunes never come alone," has
been contradicted in the case of Lord Lowther, who, though he has lost
his election, has won his race, and brought up his expences at the
hustings, and five pounds over, by his triumph at the stand. His Lord-
ship is too old a statesman not to have the desire of serving his country
in a good place. But his late experience may teach him that of all posts,
the best is the winning-post. We must do him the justice to say, that
when in office, he was an indefatigable man of business, and that though
we do not yet comprehend the good fortune by which, in the memorable
and fatal year 1829, he was suffered to vote against the Catholic Bill,
and yet keep his office ; we should wish to see him marshalling his stone-
masons, bricklayers, and carpenters again, and standing, ferule in hand,
over the pullers down and builders up of half a dozen more miles of the
Strand.

We recommend the following caution to heiresses and others, from ten
thousand pounds upwards, during the present eloping season at Bath,
Cheltenham, Clifton, Brighton, Broadstairs, Astley's, and Almack's.

" Law of Settlement. — It is not, we believe, generally known that an English
woman marrying a native of Scotland or Ireland, loses all claim to parochial
relief in England, and may be passed, like an Irish or Scotch vagrant, to the
birth-place of the husband. Such is the present Law of Settlement 1"

On the continent none but women take the veil, but an imported
foreigner, like imported champagne, always improves by the London
market. We give an instance : on the day of the Derby much mirth was
occasioned by the occasional appearance on the Epsom road of certain
nondescript animals, with green veils over their heads. Those, at first,

664 Notes of the Month on [JuNE>

were taken to be females dressed in men's clothes, for the purpose of
adding to the gaiety of the scene ; but one object, upon inspection, proving
to be a real bondjide man, he was destined to proceed amidst the shouts
and derision of the populace : others of the same genus followed, and
were received in a similar manner, it being ascertained that these gentle-*
men were so inconvenienced by the dust getting into " their pretty eyes
and whiskers," that they were obliged to wear veils to counteract its
destructive effects, and also to guard their delicate complexions from the
rays of the sun. The he-nuns were discovered to be half a dozen Mar-
quises and Barons of the highest blood of the North of Europe, preserv-
ing their complexions for the quadrille at the Duchess of Connizaro's,
on the same evening. We hear that they fortunately escaped without a
freckle.

Kean lingers still on this side of the Atlantic, and in the modern Athens
finished his career and benefit by a speech, which seemed to have en-
raptured his classic audience.

" Having been loudly called for at the end of the play (Othello), he made
the following characteristic address: — "Ladies and Gentlemen, I cannot
express to you ray feelings of gratitude. I am overpowered by exertion ; but
in whatever situation I may be placed, 1 will, through life, entertain the
most lively recollection of your kindness. After the eloquent language 1 have
been speaking to-night, any thing I could say must be weak indeed. But I
highly prize approbation from such an audience ; of whom I conceive the
ladies to be the most beautiful, and the gentlemen most enlightened — (Cheer-
ing). It is probable, that although I may not often again appear on the
London boards, I hope frequently to make my best bow to my kind friends
here/'

We must now degenerate into the miscellaneous; and first, of the
incomparable bandit of Drury Lane.

" It is said that Wallack has received a pressing invitation from the various
theatres in the United States to pay them another professional visit, and that
high terms have been offered."

Elliston has recovered the use of both his hands, and now employs
them in both John Bull's pockets, from which he extracts full houses,
laughing audiences, and a promise of increasing popularity for the next
fifty years.

All our actors are flying off to Paris. Liston does not intend to act at
any of the provincial theatres during the summer. Accompanied by his
son and Mr. Kenney, he purposes to visit Paris. Liston is going.
Charles Kemble is gone upon a theatrical speculation. He will be fol-
lowed by Mr. Lacey, translator of the grand spectacle of Napoleon Buo-
naparle. Mr. Kemble's stay in the French capital will be very short.

The Radicals are prodigiously angry with the Marquis of Chandos for
having beaten their man ; and are now trying to account for Lord George
Nu gent's want of weight and political importance wherever his lordship
is known ; and for this purpose are libelling the marquess and his father
with having taken the trouble to combine against the said author of the
poem on Portugal, and Bold Dragoon of the Tracadero. Thus, say
they : —

The differences between Lord Nugent and the Marquis of Chandos have
been very conspicuously brought forward. The latter, with the duke, their

1831.3 Affairs in General. 665

father, is described to have acted most disingenuously — to have first opposed
Lord Nugent, then to have disavowed doing so, save by his own personal
vote, and immediately afterwards to have sent his pocket-voters to give
plumpers against him for Lord Kirkwall.

To the whole of this we say, what Burchell says in the Vicar of
Wakefield to Miss Amelia Wilhelmina Skeggs, " Fudge !" The Mar-
quess of Chandos is worth a ship-load of Lord Nugents. He is a manly,
high-minded, honest fellow, with his brains in the right place, and as
sure of yet taking a high rank, perhaps the highest, in the confidence
and councils of the country, as Lord Nugent, whom, by-the-bye, the
Whigs seem to have left very unceremoniously to the natural operation
of his genius, is sure to remain in the same position for life.

The world has for the last month forgotten Poland, and talked of
Paganini, and nothing but Paganini. The signor's debut has not been
lucky. The fact is, this king of the fiddlers, has been too much in haste
to carry off all the circulating medium of England; and by thus assail-
ing John Bull on his sensitive point, that most patient of animals, or, as
a favourite fashionable authority would say, that always-to-be-plucked-
by-foreigners goose, and never-to-be-plucked-enough, was for once out
of temper ; and if the signor had fiddled on the night proposed, he
would have fiddled to the walls, as bare of an audience as his own
demands were of moderation.

The demand which Paganini had thought it modest and reasonable
to make on those who desired to witness his performance, as it ap-
peared in his advertisement, was as follows : — " Price of Boxes : Pit
tier, eight guineas ; ground tier, ten guineas ; one pair, nine guineas ;
two pair, six guineas ; three pair, four guineas. Stalls, two guineas ;
orchestra, one guinea and a half. Admission to the pit, one guinea;
ditto to the gallery, half a guinea." The effect of the advertisement was
so startling, that it is stated, not more than eight or ten boxes were
taken, and this indisposition on the part of the public produced, we sup-
pose, that indisposition on the part of Paganini which caused the concert
to be postponed.

The public surprise being equalled by the public disgust at this
unparalleled piece of modesty, in which Laporte, the Frenchman who
leases the King's theatre, seemed to be an accomplice ; the " Times"
lashed both parties without preface or apology.

" Laporte's presumption in doubling the prices of admission to the King's
Theatre, on the first night of Paganini's performance, is one of those extra-
vagances which could only have entered the head . of a foreigner, who had
beforehand arrived at the happy conviction, moreover, of the infinite gulli-
bility of the English nation. To understand this the more clearly, it is
necessary to bear in mind that the whole theatre is on this occasion set apart,
not for a dramatic performance, but for a concert merely, and that it will hold,
if filled at the ordinary prices, at least £1,500 in money. The expense to be
sustained is considerably less than on an ordinary night. There is no chorus,
no corps dramatique, nor corps de ballet, to be engaged. Nothing is wanted
but an orchestra, the whole attraction centering, in fact, in the single talent
of Paganini. But is he justified, or Laporte for him, in levying this enormous
tax? We have had instances enough before in this country of extravagant
pretension on the part of opera singers, dancers, and others ; yet none of them,
in the full zenith of their popularity, and with far stronger reasons on their
side, ever ventured on such an outrageous proceeding as this. What Pa-
ginini's audiences have submitted to in Frankfort, Berlin, Hamburgh, Paris,

M. M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. 66. 4 Q

666 Notes of the Month on [JUNE,

and other places, has nothing- to do with this question. The public there are
little in the habit of exercising their right over the mode of admission to public
places, and the prices at the King's Theatre are already higher than any others
in Europe. They secure, as they are, the most brilliant recompense that can
possibly await individual talent. We may allow, perhaps, to very rare emi-
nence in a public performer, that he shall occasionally count his hundreds for
a single night; but this scheme, should the public swallow the bait, may
possibly secure his thousands to Paginini — he may appropriate as much in
that one night as former managers have assigned to our Billingtons and Cata-
lanis for a whole season.

As to doubling the prices in Berlin and other Continental cities, the
" Times" might have added, that the prices are extremely low, compared
with those of England, and especially with those of the King's theatre ;
and that the theatres are generally small. The King's theatre being,
with the exception of La Scala at Milan, probably the largest in
Europe.

M. Laporte, being perfectly astonished at being taken to task/ wrote
an attempt at an apology, in the following letter, to the editors of the
different newsp pers :-—

" Sir, — It is with deep regret that I have seen in a Morning Paper a para-
graph which tends to throw upon me the intended advance of prices of Signer
Paganini's concert. A feeling of delicacy, and the lateness of the hour when,
on my return to town, the said paragraph came to my knowledge, do not allow
me to enter, for the present, into a minute explanation, but I hope that a
further investigation of the case will be granted me, when I have no doubt my
character will be cleared of an undeserved charge, and restored to that public
estimation which it has ever been the aim of my exertions to obtain. — I have
the honour to remain your obedient humble servant, " J. LAPORTE."

" King's Theatre, May 19."

This note explained nothing, further than that the lateness of the hour
when Monsieur returned from his country excursion prevented him from
explaining any thing. But it does not deny that he was fully acquainted
with those exorbitant demands before; or that it was his duty as a
manager, protected by the public and the subscribers, to take care that
no such impudence should be practised on them. We would ask also,
whether this M. Laporte was not to have had a share of the signer's profits
originally ? and whether the idea of doubling the rates of admission met
with any resistance whatever from the Frenchman ? Those rates had been
partially announced too a week or ten days before ; why did not M. La-
porte then announce his dissent from them ? This is the only shape in
which explanation can be received, and this we shall see whether the
manager is able to give.

The first result, however, was tolerably intelligible. It is said, that
no more than eight or ten boxes were taken. The speculation on national
foolery, of course, fell to the ground. On the night previous to that
fixed for the concert, bills were posted in various parts of the house,
announcing that " Signer Paganini's concert" had been postponed, and
giving a copy of a note in Italian, addressed by him to Laporte, of
which the following is a translation : —

"Sir, — Finding myself rather indisposed, I beg you will do me the favour
to inform the respectable public that I shall not be able to perform to-morrow
evening. — I am, Sir, your humble servant, " PAGANINI."

Laporte's friends say, for he seems to have been able to say nothing
for himself, that he had told the sign or, " that the liaut ton of London,

1831 .] Affairs in General 667

whilst in London, however much they might when abroad, and even
occasionally whilst in the metropolis, extend their purses for the purpose
of paying " foreign talent," would often refuse to act upon the same
principle. Laporte then told him, that as he could not sanction the pro-
posed increase of prices of admission, without running the risk of giving
everlasting offence to his own subscribers, he could not take any share
in the business, but would make the customary charge to him (Paganini)
for the use of the house, and of such members of the establishment as he
might think proper to select. Upon this Paganini observed, that he
would take the matter upon himself, and the scheme of charges was
drawn out. To this determination we are given to understand he the
more determinately came, because he said that on his arrival at Dover a
deputation of the inhabitants waited on him and stated, that if he would
but play for one night at their theatre, they would raise the prices of
admission to the boxes, which are now 4s. each, and the pit, which are
2s. each, to one guinea ; and in order that it might be brought to some
sort of certainty, as to what profit he should derive from that performance,
they would at once guarantee that 200 tickets, at £1. Is. each, should be
taken. Paganini, therefore, argued, that if this act was to be looked on
as a criterion of the extent of the anxiety which the English felt to hear
him, he could not help thinking that the metropolitan cognoscenti would
willingly pay double the customary charge. Laporte, finding that his
mind was so firmly impressed with this opinion, left the matter to itself,
to undeceive him as to its fallacy." This is certainly not the story which
first came to the general ear ; that being simply, that the Frenchman
wished to pay the fiddler merely a certain sum for his performances ;
but that the fiddler demanded the produce of two-thirds of the house ;
the charges being already raised in the ridiculous manner alluded to ;
and that on Laporte' s demurring, the signor took the whole upon
himself.

There the matter rests, explanation and all. On whose head the
extortion may lie, we cannot say ; but we are glad that it has been ex-
posed and punished, let its author be fiddler or farceur. At the same
time, we wish that no popular displeasure may be too heavily visited
upon Paganini. All foreigners suffer themselves to think, that the
wealth of England implies absurdity and extravagance ; and the enor-
mous and almost criminal prodigality with which foreign singers and
dancers have been frequently paid may seem to justify the conception.
We can have little to say for our good sense when a singer, even though
that singer were Catalani, could make ten thousand a year among us ;
but there is a limit, and that limit the signor has overpassed. We yet
have no wish to visit this blunder too heavily on his ignorance of our
habits. He is a first-rate violinist ; and as he has a right to make the
due profit from his talent, so the public are willing to reward, and gene-
rously reward, its display.

As to his illness, we do not believe a word ; theatrical indispositions
form a class of diseases perfectly understood among us, and of those
none are ever mortal. Paganini is probably vexed at having lost his
object, and at the same time lost his popularity ; but better advice will
rapidly restore the king of fiddlers to his happiest state of convalescence,
and we shall have him again enchanting the universe on his single
string, at the Hanover Square, the Argyle, the King's Concert, and all
other rooms and kinds of rooms. The " Sunday Times" thus announces
the signor's arrival —

4 Q 2

G68 Notes of the Month on Affairs in General.

" Paganini and the other Ninnies. — The ' first fiddler in Europe' has arrived
at Dover, with his fiddle under his arm. Intent on attacking John Bull in
his strong-hold,, and determined to rush at once, in medias res, he has very
modestly refused £100 for one night's fiddling at Dover! It is really all very
.well to encourage talent, but it becomes absurd to carry patronage to such
an extent as to bestow it solely on expensive foreigners, whilst home merit is
lost sight of. We shall have thousands expended on hearing the man apply
the < hair of the horse to the bowels of the cat/ by the very persons who, ' in
their places in Parliament,' are vehemently declaiming against foreign imports,
national poverty, and home produce. What a world do we live in I"

The political turbulence of the time is actually beginning to impede
matters the most remote from politics. It has been remarked, tbat fewer
books, for instance, have been published since it began, than within
any six months of the last twenty years. Yet some occasionally make
their way : arid one of the most striking of tbe season, is a work, " On
the Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy/' An admirable volume, in
every sense of the word, clearing the subject from the greater part of the
difficulties which have hitherto made it one of the most deformed features
of ancient knowledge, completely excluding the indelicate details which
have so generally stained the history of heathen idolatry, and bringing
upon the topic a weight of classical reference, acute inquiry and general
illustration, which places the work immeasurably above all its prede-
cessors. The author, Mr. Keightly, himself an accomplished scholar,
and perhaps not inferior to any individual of his time, in his knowledge
of the whole range of living Continental literature, has availed himself
largely, but judiciously, of the chief German authorities ; avoiding their
mysticism, and admirably condensing and combining their facts. The
book forms a standard work, deserving of being adopted in every school
and college where classical learning is peculiarly cultivated, and not less
deserving of a place in the library of every man to whom the recollections
of the poets, historians or philosophers of antiquity, are valuable.

Another work, but of light and graceful reading, has just appeared :—
" Harrison's Tales of a Physician :" the second part of a series of nar-
ratives which have already received from the public the praise of tender-
ness, humorous simplicity, and powerful nature. Some of the former
tales reminded us of Goldsmith, and the present volume deserves the
full popularity of its brother.

Ridgway, the prince of pamphlet-publishers, has just issued another
pamphlet on the Reform question. The title is but a mask for the spirit
of its pages. — " Friendly Advice most respectfully submitted to the Lords,
on the Reform Bill;" — the author, of course, meaning neither friendly
advice, nor respectful submission. His tone is haughty menace and bold
contempt. He warns the Lords " of their ruin," if they dare to resist the
•Bill; scoffs at their hope of establishing a ministry, if they should even
succeed in the " extravagant conception" of throwing out the present one,
and commands them to let their scruples be silent in the presence of their
dangers. We are of another school, and look upon such conduct as the
true forerunner of ruin, and of that worst of all ruin, which, before it
breaks down the man, strips him of the consolation of character, crushes
him by his own convicting hand, and sends him to the political grave,
less as the victim of adverse fortune, than an atonement to the offended
laws of honour. But the writer gives the Whig view of the subject, and
gives it with force and fearlessness. We have seen nothing on his side
better written.

1831.]

[ 669 ]

MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN.

Summer and Winter Hours, by Henry
Glassford Bell — These poems have no-
thing to do with either summer or win-
ter hours in particular ; but are so styled
— partly for the sake of a title, and part-
ly because they are the " fruits of idle
hours stolen in those seasons from graver,
though not more congenial pursuits."
They are, in fact, occasional pieces —
slender effusions prompted by circum-
stances— the relaxations of a cultivated
mind, with a taste for verse-making, and
indulging it, without putting forth ex-
travagant pretensions. They are un-
elaborate morsels, that call for no seve-
rity, for they challenge no distinction —
nevertheless several of them are felici-
tous enough, and prove the possession of
a power that requires only to be exerted
to produce more important results. The
Epistles to and from a pair of Cousins,
separated for years, are very agreeable
trifles, in good taste and discretion. We
quote a stanza or two from the lady's
reply.—
I wish you would pack your portmanteau, Hal,

And fling yourself into the mail, —
Jt will lake little more than a day and a night

To bring you to Langley Dale.
1 Tis the sweetest spot in the world, Hal,

And just for a poet like you ;
A lovelier scene of hill and grove

No pointer ever drew.

And I want you to know my husband, Hal,

For I'm sure you'll be pleased with each other;
And, besides, we have three rosy children, Hal,

All amazingly like their mother ;—
I hear their merry voices now,

Even now from among the trees, —
O, Hal ! what a fathomless depth of joy

To a mother in sounds like these!

At all events, come to see us, Hal,

Ere the golden months be past,
For I think you are not so happy, Hal,

As when we parted last ;
Ami if there be song or word of mine,

That can either soothe or please,
We'll bury all your cares, dear Hal,

Deep in oblivion's seas.
We'll bnry all your cares, dear Hal,

A thousand fathoms down,
And we'll send you back a merrier man

To your friends in the busy town ;
We'll send you back with a ruddier cheek,

And a brighter beaming eye,
And again you will tread with a bounding step,

Again will your heart beat high.

The Bridal Night, $c., by Dugald
Moore, author of " Scenes from the Flood"
$-c.— -The manufacture of verse becomes
every day more and more facile, and the
labourers of course multiply in propor-
tion. There is such a prodigious stock
of ready-made phrases, images, and cha-
racters, exclusively poetical in the mar-

ket, within every body's reach, and at
every body's command, that all the

Siung masters and misses, as soon as
ey can clutch a pen, have only to
stretch out their hands, and fill them
to their hearts' content. The frolic
would be perfectly harmless, if they did
not print— but print they must, or it is
labour lost with them. It is in vain to
urge upon them, nobody reads. Grasp-
ing as is the passion of vanity, and espe-
cially the vanity that prompts to verse-
scribbling, it is the most accommodating
of human infirmities — the most flexible
arid elastic — of the India-rubber texture
— if it cannot command the admiration
of the universe, it will be tickled with
the plaudits of a family circle, or a next-
door neighbour. Though, therefore, out
of every three persons that can spell,
one takes to dabbling in poetry ; he or
she generally secures the applause of
the other two, which is better than no-
thing, and enough to keep vanity warm.
These remarks are forced from us, per-
haps, in a fit of waspish impatience — we
are but men. Our table groans with
masses of verse; and discrimination,
where all have a family likeness, and
one not better than another, is past all
mortal power. If we say, then, that
Mr. Dugald Moore of the Bridal Night,
is of a dashing and aspiring cast, and
writes smoothly and nowingly — with
shows of vivacity and fire — and has By-
ron by heart, and for ever at his pen's
end, we give a fair representation of
his quality, and need add no more. For-
merly, in descriptive scenes, poets culled
and selected laboriously and fastidiously
— now, they universally accumulate,
and, of course, mere piling and packing
costs very little. —

Day sets in glory o'er the Ionian sea,
Night gathers round him like eternity ;
And all is hush'd, as if the rosy mouth
Of love breathed o'er his own delicious south.
'Tis one of those sweet eves, so calm, so clear,
And living, that you almost think you hear,
In the warm air, the very wild-flowers grow,
And the young blood through their green channels

flow.

Joy seems to breathe his songs in every bower,
As if Death's foot had never crushed a flower ;
While music floats along the twilight deep,
As nature saw bright visions in her sleep,
And, like an infant through a glorious dream,
Murmured delight from every hill and stream !
The winds lie wearied with their morning chase,
Embraced by silence in the halls of space ; '
And as the gorgeous clouds to darkness pass,
You see the stars, in many a fairy mass,
Laughing along the desert of the air,
Apart, or grouped, like happy lovers there ;
While the warm breeze that slowly warbles by,
Wanders away, like pleasure, with a sigh.

670

Monthly Review qf Literature,

This shewy piece is introductory to
" The Bridal Night," which is the story
of a Greek pirate, whose lady-love is in
the hands of a Turkish emir. The
emir resolves to marry her, and the
pirate to tear her from his arms on the
bridal night. The result is very sad.
The emir, not pleased with the lady's
tears, is beforehand with the pirate,
draws his sabre, and gives the bride a
stroke that requires no second one— the
pirate of course has his revenge on the
emir ; but that does not bring the lady
to life. He carries off -the fair form,
however, and the same night is himself
wrecked, and both bodies are found the
next morning on the shore, and half a
score vultures hovering over them.

The History of the Church of Christ,
by the Rev. John Scott, M.A. Vol. III.
— Mr. Scott is more remarkable for his
industry than for skill in working up
his materials ; but the production is re-
spectable— it is honest and temperate.
The present volume — concluding the
Swiss Reformation — is chiefly occupied,
after tracing the later years of Swingle
and (Ecolampadius, with Farel and Cal-
vin, whose biography involves the
whole story of the Reformation of Ge-
neva. Zwmgle certainly appears in a
more favourable light than he has usu-
ally done — and Mr. Scott's industry and
good faith forbid us to believe it is not a
fairer one. Not only were his talents, and
his bold and independent spirit equal, or
even superior to any of his eotempora-
ries, which all must allow ; but his theo-
logy, in Mr. Scott's estimate, is in gene-
ral sound, and his evangelical piety more
decisive than is commonly represented.
He had obviously more temper and a
clearer head than Luther. It seems to
have been generally overlooked, that his
predestination principles were to the
full as sweeping as those of Calvin ; but
with him, however, they were grounded
more upon philosophy than theology,
and had but little influence upon the
general style of his instructions. He
distinctly admits reprobation, as well as
election. Speaking of the supposition
of Esau's dying in infancy, he says, ex,-
pressly, " he could not die, whom Provi-
dence created to live, and to live wickedly.?
Nor is this a casual expression in a ser-
mon or a letter, but a deliberate declara-
tion in a sober discussion consecutively
argued. After this, of course, Mr. Scott
cannot but express his surprise that Dr.
Milner— a man supposed never to have
made an assertion without due authority
— should say, as he does — " On a careful
perusal of Zwingle's voluminous writ-
ings, I am convinced that certain pecu-
liar sentiments, afterwards maintained
by Calvin, concerning the absolute de-
crees of God, made no part of the theo-

logy of the Swiss reformer." Of course,
if Dr. Milner's perusal was a careful, it
was not a complete one.

The whole odium of these doctrines
has, by a singular sort of ill-luck, been
cast upon Calvin, though bevond all
doubt, before he had ever been" heard of
in public life, Luther, Melancthon, and
Zwingle, held them in entire perfection.
The fact is, they were the common sen-
timents of the Catholic Church ; and the
earliest reformers were all brought up
in the Catholic faith. Augustin never
lost any of his credit or authority ; nor
did the Council of Trent think of flinch-
ing from the confession.

But Calvin himself was not eternally
and exclusively, as people seem to ima-
gine, writing upon these topics. It is
in his " Institutes" only that he for-
mally advocates them — a performance
that occupies only a portion of one folio
volume out of nine. The rest are filled
with Commentaries and Lectures on the
Scriptures, and his Correspondence.

The case of Servetus, the Anti-Trini-
tarian, who was burnt at Geneva, partly
through the agency of Calvin, Mr. Scott
has carefully sifted, and stated it with
perfect fairness. Calvin was very far
from being so omnipotent at Geneva as
is olten represented —he had power nei-
ther to condemn nor to rescue Servetus.
When he first published his obnoxious
book — nine years before his miserable
fate — he was in correspondence with
Calvin, and on that occasion offered to
come to Geneva. " If he comes," said
Calvin, " he shall not go away alive, if
I can help it." To Geneva, however,
he finally came — nine years after, and
not entrapped by Calvin — but Calvin cer-
tainly gave information to the magis-
trates of his arrival, and he was instantly
arrested. Nor can there be any doubt but
he wished for his execution, though he
made efforts to have him hanged instead
of burnt. Mr. Scott, with some little
reluctance, confesses this was the state
of his sentiments ; and obviously Cal-
vin's own words will bear no other in-
terpretation. Though undoubtedly a
stain, it is one upon the age rather than
upon the man. Luther, Melancthon,
and Zwingle, would probably have acted
in the same way under the same cir-
cumstances. Melancthon expressed his
wonderment that any body could dis-
approve. Our own reformers sanctioned
similar enormities often enough. Mr.
Scott discriminates the man admirably —
In Calvin we trace not indeed the chivalrous
heroism of the great Saxon reformer; nor the
sometimes too adventurous elevation of the father
of the Swiss reformation ; nor certainly the ge-
nius and the tenderness of Melancthon; nor the
meekness of wisdom which peculiarly adorned
(Ecolampadius. But in some other important
•]ualities he excelled them all. Perhaps in learn-

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

671

ing he was superior to any one of them— in sound
ahd correct judgment, formed upon a comprehen-
.sive and dispassionate consideration of all the
points involved in a great question, I should cer-
tainly conclude him to have been so. Finn as
Luther, without his impetuosity, he avoided all
the embarrassments which arose from the scrupu-
lous anxiety of Melancthon. Inferior to none,
superior to most of them, in sagacity and pene-
tration, he was more a man of system and order
in all things, whether relating to doctrine, to dis-
cipline, or to his compositions as an author, than
any of their number. The first among them, we
may pronounce, in sheer intellect, he fell short of
more than one of them in the powers of imagina-
and of all of them in warmth of heart. Hence,
while he commands our veneration, Le does not
equally attract our affection.

Poems, by Walter Savage Landor, Esq.
—Would Mr. Lander could be convinced
he has not found out how to write poetry
which any body can read. Whatever may
be his conceptions, he has no flow, no
ready command of appropriate language,
and makes up the deficiency — which
nothing, however, ever could or can sup-
ply — by an eternal elaboration that
wraps all he sings in clouds of obscurity,
as dense and deep as a delphic oracle.
One half of his luckless lines require
reading a second or a third time — not in
admiration, or the better to impress and
feel their beauties— but simply to take
their meaning; and, too often, that
meaning proves to be as old as the hills,
and either not worth the repetition, or
far too trite and worn to make the pe-
rusal bearable. With all Mr. Lander's
ardour for poetry, and his untiring de-
votion from his boyhood, he has never
shewn any fertility or fervour of imagi-
nation ; he can observe, and so occasion-
ally, in details, introduces matters un-
marked before, but then they are often
scarcely worth remarking, and if they
be, the effect is for ever blighted by the
pedantry of his taste, which leads him
for the most part to the grandiloquent ;
and in his efforts at the simple, sinks
him into puerility or meanness. No
modern writer of Mr. Lander's calibre
has taken so wrong an estimate of his
own powers — he aspires beyond his
executive talents ; and in his poetry, is
always more intent upon the manner
than the matter, and that manner too
exclusively partakes ot older writers, as
if that of none of his cotemporaries could
be worth regarding. But Mr. Lander
will evidently listen to no admonitions
• — he is a scorner of periodical criticism
— he will guide the public taste, and of
course is much too magnificent to allow
the world to know and feel what it likes
best.

The volume before us— an amount of
a good ten thousand lines — all he chooses
to father— contains a whole tragedy, of
the legitimate dimensions, Count Julian

of Spain— scenes or scraps of two other
dramas — a narrative poem, beginning,
" I sing the fates of Gebir" — an Ice-
landic adventure, and sundry morceaux
of an amatory and elegiac cast — the
whole collected and published by him-
self, expressly to guard against the
" avarice of venal editors and bankrupt
publishers," when he is gone. Bless the
good man. " It is only the wretchedest
of poets," adds he, witfr the complacency
of a saint, " that wish all they ever wrote
to be remembered — some of the best
would be willing to lose the most."

Without sketching the subject of Ge-
bir, we will just cast a glance at a page
of it, with no insidious selection — it is
a fair specimen. Gebir gives orders to
build a new town from the ruins of an
old one at some distance —

The Gadite men the royal charge obey.
Now fragments weighed up from th' uneven streets
Leave the ground black beneath. —

A fact observed by himself, probably
upon some occasion when the pavement
was turned up, as is often the case, in
Piccadilly.

Again the sun
Shines into what were porches,

That is, the old porches were set up
afresh in the new town.

And on steps

Once warm with frequentation — clients, friends,
All morning, satcheled idlers all mid-day,
Lying half up and languid though at games.

We have pondered upon these lines
some time, and are not sure, after all,
we grasp the meaning. Apparently —
heaven forbid we should be peremp-
tory upon so equivocal a matter — clients
and friends are what grammarians call
in apposition with frequentation, and in-
tended to deyelope the objects of that
very expressive abstraction. Will the
poet then mean — the sun shines, in their
new position, on steps which once, «. e.
in their old position, were much fre-
quented by clients and friends all the
morning, and with satcheled idlers all
the mid-day — and both parties only get-
ting halfway up, fatigued with the great
elevation or the said steps, and then
stretching themselves at their length,
fit for nothing but to play at backgam-
mon or hazard, and hardly that ? All
morning — the writer has lived too long
in Italy to know is mere patois. What
the idlers have got in their satchels we
have no means of discovering, and must
appeal to the author. But let us pro-
ceeed a few lines —

Some raise the painted pavement, some on wheels
Draw slow its luminous length —

This, apparently, means a long piece
of the painted pavement — probably tes-
selated*

672

Monthly Review of Literature,

[\JUNE,

Some Intersperse

Salt waters through the sordid heaps, and seize
The flowers and figures starting fresh to view.

That is — the workmen scrub the dirt
off' the pieces of tesselated pavement,
and make the flowers and figures visible.
For this purpose salt water is more effi-
cient than sweet — another proof of Mr.
Lander's close observation of facts.

Others rub hard large masses, and essay
To polish into white what they misdeem
The growing green of many trackless years.

Here we confess we should have been
quite at a stand, but for a benevolent
note. They were scrubbing verde an-
tique, which they mistook for Parian,
stained by vegetation, and long exposure
to the weather.

Far off at intervals the axe resounds

With regular strong stroke, and nearer home

Dull falls the mallet with long labour fringed.

These are nice observations that mark
the poet. The mallet was an old one,
or had been much used, was conse-
quently fringed, or worn to ribbons at*
the edges, and of course did not give the
sharp sound of a new one.

Here arches are discovered, there huge beams
Resist the hatchet, but in fresher air
Soon drop away, fyc. fyc.

The poet's philosophy — his knowledge
of nature and art too, has no limits ; and
the fearless prodigality with which he
lavishes it upon the reader, shews a re-
liance upon the opulence of his resources
that is quite enviable.

Mr. Landor has a trick of spelling his
words after his own fancy — in contempt
9f all custom or analogy. He has des-
pach for despatch, and rhymes it with
scratch. This is in Gunlaug, to which,
by the way, we direct the reader's at-
tention. In it the poet attempts the
familiar — but, as it often happens when
people are unused to the exercise, he
only plays the fool, and that very clum-
sily.

Old Man of the Mountain, $c. Tales
from the German of Tieck. 1 vol — Tieck
has, we believe, a very high reputation
among his own countrymen for skill in
handling diableries and mysteries, or-
dinary and extraordinary ; but except
with boys and girls in their teens, and
a few dreaming persons who never get
out of them, none, we suspect, are likely
to be very much charmed with him
here. If curiosity prompt others to
look at his performances, contempt must
scon force them to throw them aside —
the tales are far too childish in material,
and too crazy in construction, to afford
amusement to people who are not half
as addled as the author, or at least as
most of the personages who figure in his
scenes. A German romancer is not con-

tent with marking the workings of hu-
man passions in the encounters of com-
mon life— in the complications of cir-
cumstances which realities furnish in
inexhaustible variety — more marvellous
by far than mere imagination supplies
— but he must revive again the worn-
out extravagances of ages of ignorance,
or at least or ages of coarse and clouded
observation, and intermingle them with
modern precision and refinement — thus
producing alienation and disgust where
his purpose is to interest, and astound,
and conciliate. When magic and mar-
vels were subjects of serious belief, they
stood on a level with facts, and might
claim, even pre-eminently, description
and discussion ; and so the existing pre-
judices of a people, in whatever class of
that people, are fair subjects still ; but,
unluckily, Tieck represents them in a
style and manner fitted only for the
nursery. The Old Man of the Moun-
tain's story is a succession of circum-
stances, scarcely any two of which hang
together — effects stand without their
causes, aod actions without their mo-
tives — and the characteristic of the
piece is of course obscurity. The old
man is rich to repletion in mines and
manufactories ; in early life he has ex-
perienced troubles, and they have soured
him, and, in spite of a kindly tempera-
ment, have given him a distrust of man-
kind. He shuts himself up, and trusts
his concerns to agents ; and he is of
course robbed and plundered ; but such
is his general and unaccountable pros-
perity, that the loss is but a drop from
a bucket, and he prefers suspecting every
body in the mass, and nobody in particu-
lar, to discovering the source of depreda-
tion. The author of all proves finally to
be his chief privy counsellor, and the
detection seems to' strike the death-blow
of the Old Man of the Mountain— whose
character is a perfect puzzle ; and the
last thing Tieck thinks of is to unriddle
it himself, or give others a clue. The
bulk of the tale is occupied with the
speculations of the old man's subordi-
nate agents, and their schemes for dis-
covering the marauders ; and nothing
can exceed the absurdity of the prating
about the possible secrets of nature, but
the detailing of them thus without aim
or effect.

The " love-charm" is the murder of
a child by a lovely young woman and an
old crone, to fascinate the affections of
a young gentleman akeady sufficient-
ly disposed to admiration. The lover
sees the whole atrocity through a
chink ; and the bridal ceremony closes
with his stabbing the lady, and throwing
himself out of the window, we believe.

Pietro is neither more nor less than a
scholar who, by dint of hard study, gets
a command over some poor subordinate

1831.]

"Domestic and Foreign.

673

fiend, and plays old Gooseberry with
the dead and the living— especially with
a lady who for some time is dead, and
not dead. Particular scenes in all the
tales are sketched and even finished
with spirit, but, generally, the details,
and the very interlacing of incident, are
beyond anybody's following with in-
terest or patience.

The Scottish Gacl,or Celtic Manners,£c.,
by James Logan, 2 vols., 8vo. — Notwith-
standing the numerous volumes pub-
lished of late years relative to the High-
landers of Scotland, their habits, and
superstitions, and peculiarities, there
was still wanting one to embrace the
whole subject, and communicate at once
all that had been collected, and lay dis-
persed in different quarters. Such an
one Mr. Logan has supplied. His ulti-
mate purpose was to exhibit the relics of
Celtic manners, as they are preserved
among the Highlanders' of the present
day ; and certainly no time was to be
lost, for they are disappearing every
year, and in another half century will
all probably have vanished without leav-
ing a rack behind. Mr. Logan, of
course, though he accumulates all the
evidence he can muster, may be said to
take for granted the main question,
whether the Highlanders, after all, are
Celts at all. He has no doubt they are
the pure descendants of the original
Celts, unmixed with Gothic, Irish, or
Saxon ; and the best evidence by which
he identifies the existing peculiarities,
which he designates as Gaelic, with those
of the original Celts, are the poems of
Ossian, and other traditional poems still
floating, but fast fading away, in the
memories of individuals, in remote
districts. Not but he traces similar pe-
culiarities, more or less, among the ori-
ginal Irish, the Welch, and the Ameri-
cans ; but the poems are his best
authorities, and of course no common
pains are taken to establish their au-
thenticity, or rather their antiquity.

Till after the rebellion of 1745 the
Highlanders were scarcely known at all,
and whether they had poetry or prose
among them, nobody in England thought
of inquiring, and scarcely any body in —
cultivated Scotland. The Lowlanders
and Highlanders had indeed little in
common ; and least of all was it sup-
posed that Highlanders had any thing
which could challenge the respect of
Lowlanders, or vice versa. When Mac-
pherson put forth his Translation of
Ossian, the literary world was in arms,
and generally proclaimed the production
to be an impudent imposture. The
great Coryphceus of learning of his day,
Johnson, demanded — like a man of sense,
if there had been no other possible me-
dium of preservation — the MSS. Mac-

M.M.New Series — VOL. XL No. 66.

pherson, as full of vanity as an " egg is
of meat," refused to furnish the proofs
demanded. Either he had no MSS. to
produce, or, what seems to have been
the fact, he was desirous the world should
finally believe the poems were his
own invention. Meanwhile numbers of
Scotchmen were every where declaring
the poems were familiar to them — they
had heard them sung over and over
again in various parts of the Highlands
— and verily believed them to be pro-
ductions of ancient date. But it was not
till the institution of the Highland So-
ciety that proofs were produced of con-
siderable antiquity. The oldest MS., in
existence, of some portion of them, is
thought to be of the ninth century, and,
of course, even that may have been
copied from others, Macpherson seems
himself to have written down from the
mouth of rehearsers the whole of what
he translated ; and Mr. Logan brings
together the evidence, that has at dif-
ferent times been gathered, relative to
the persons who did rehearse them to
Macpherson. One man made affidavit,
that his brother recited four days and
four nights to him ! But there can exist
no doubt, from incidental notices in
books, that many of these poems were
habitually sung ages ago, and sung to
particular tunes, and thus more securely
handed down. The case is apparently
parallel with that of Homer, whose
poems, according to all tradition, were
sung in detached pieces, called rhapso-
dies, and for the production of which,
when some Athenians collected them in
the time of Pisistratus, large rewards
were offered.

On the general antiquities and relics
of the Celts the author's industry has
brought together a considerable mass of
information, in a manner creditable alike
to his industry and his judgment. The
historical portions might have been use-
fully compressed, and a little more life
thrown into the whole ; but non omnid
possumus omnes.

Fragments of Voyages and Travels, fyc.,
by Captain Basil Hall, R. N., 3 vols.,
18mo. — Captain Hall is here his own
hero, and takes especial pains to prove
himself one from his cradle. He is
brimful of self-importance, and fully
convinced he is a genius and a jewel of
the first water. Now we have no incli-
nation whatever to dispute his preten-
sions— we have no doubt he is a very
clever person, and he has at all events
produced a very respectable little book
— one presenting many points of in-
terest, and even of utility ; but it is not,
and never can be, agreeable to have a
conviction of immense superiority to all
the world driven down one's throat, in
this manner, at the point of the pen.
4 11

674

Monthly Review of Literature,

[JUNE,

Captain Hall was born on the coast, and
in a storm — which of course boded his
destiny must be that of a sailor. He
was a younger brother, and must have a
profession. The first thing that rang in
the boy's ears was the sea, and the wishes
thus readily excited were taken for pre-
dilection— the bent of genius. He grew
up, naturally, restless and indisposed to
sedentary study. At school he expos-
tulated with the master already in the
tone of a little man, and a great "philoso-
pher. He was panting for distinction,
and annoyed at being treated like any
common boy, and sulked when he had
better have been at play. " How comes
it, little fellow," says the master, very
unceremoniously, " that you are always
so gloomy, and that you never play as
the rest do, but look for ever as if some
misfortune had befallen you ?" " I an-
swered," says Captain Hall — the young
gentleman was about ten years old—
fc' that the confinement of the school was
much too great, and that I could not
bear being always treated as if I had no
feelings or peculiar wishes worthy of sepa-
rate consideration. That it was not the
number of hours' confinement I com-
plained of, but the awkward selection of
the periods. Let me, Sir, but choose the
time for study, and I will cheerfully
work even much longer. At present the
day is totally cut up and destroyed," &c.

Whatever may be thought of the sen-
timents, they indicate a temperament
which identifies the author— it is one
that has strengthened with his growth,
and is visible in all his productions. The
little volumes embrace the details of his
own career, €rom his school days through
his adventures by sea and land, mixed
up with anecdotes of his comrades and
officers — with speculations, descriptions,
and discussions — often amusing, some-
times humorous, always intelligent, and
also always dogmatical. Though des-
tined for young persons, the details are
not always suited to the tastes or the
comprehensions of young folks ; but of
course it is not an easy matter for clever
people, and especially for such as know
themselves to be prodigiously clever,
either to condescend, or, in fact, to bring
themselves down to the level of child-
hood or ignorance.

Every thing that is, is good with Cap-
tain Hall. Where others find room for
amendment, he always finds a reason for
matters remaining as they are. He has
a chapter upon " Diversities in Disci-
pline"— "productive often," he observes,
" of inconvenience and disaster ; but,
though variety of this kind be apt to
derange and unhinge, it teaches much
that is useful, at least to those who are
on the alert, and wish to improve." One
commander grumbles at every thing,
and is always on the look-out for ground

of complaint ; another is as vigilant in
discovering something to approve. One
would say to the first-lieutenant, now,
these ropes are very neatly arranged —
this mode of stowing is just as I wish to
see it — how white and clean you are to-
day, says the smiling captain, &c. I
wish to Heaven, Sir, cries Capt. Gruffy,
you would teach these sweepers to clear
away that bundle of shakings, pointing
to a bit of rope-yarn not half an inch
long, left under the truck of a gun, &c.
No man understood the distinction —
between the smiling and the grumbling
system — better than Lord Nelson, who
acted upon it uniformly — with what
wonderful success we all know. Some
one was discussing this question with
him one day, and pointing out the emi-
nent success which had attended the
severity -plan, followed by another great
officer, Lord St. Vincent. " Very true,"
said Lord Nelson, " but in cases where
he used a hatchet I took a penknife."

Captain Hall considers it an unsettled
matter, whether facts or fictions inter-
est young people ; but we have little
doubt his facts will prove as agreeable
to most boys as De Foe's fictions.

Destiny ; or the Chieftain's Daughter, by
the Author of Marriage and Independence,
Qc. 3 vols. — Welcome again is the author
of *' Marriage and Independence," with
another legitimate novel in her hand —
one full of character well developed —
breathing intelligence — pregnant with
meaning — natural and spirited in man-
ner— disciplined in taste, and alternately
gay and grave, without caricature on the
one hand, or too much preaching and
prosing on the other. We have seen
nothing so acceptable a long while. The
story is a fancy-piece wholly — it has
nothing we mean historical, and nothing
of established romance, but tells of every-
day life, and of domestic character, and
where peculiarities appear, they bear
marks of individual portraitures — Mrs.
Macauly and Mr. Mac Dow for instance.

" Destiny" applies to the chieftain's
daughter, and love-adventures consti-
tute the frame-work of the piece. The
Highland chief, Glenroy, is rough and
despotic in manner, and proud of his
importance. He has. one son and one
daughter, and with them is brought up
a cousin, Reginald, the heir of another
chief, gone to India, while his estate is
at nurse. After hi* wife's death, he
marries an English widow, who has a
daughter, Florinda, about the same age
as his own child, the heiress of a coronet
and of immense wealth. For a time the
young people are altogether, till the
lady, with whose fastidious habits the
chief's do not harmonize, separates and
takes the young countess with her to
London. Meanwhile a whimsical old re-

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

675

lative proposes to Glenroy to betroth his
daughter to Ronald, the son of a poor
cousin, and bequeath his large estate to
them ; but Glenroy, who has himself been
looking eagerly to the succession, refuses.
Nevertheless, the estate is finally left
to llonald, but in trust to strangers
and lawyers till he is twenty-six. The
boy goes to sea, is wrecked, believed to
be dead, and his father takes the estate.
The boy, however, returns, but finding
how matters are, and that his re-ap-
pearance will derange every thing, and
be productive of nothing but misery —
he can have no command over the pro-
perty himself till of the age fixed by the
will — he generously resolves to seek his
own fortunes, till he is old enough to
secure his father in the possession of the
property for his life. In his absence,
the cousins, Reginald and Edith, grow up
and are betrothed, to the great delight of
Glenroy, to be married as soon as Regi-
nald is of age. Meanwhile he goes to
Oxford, an'd then travels ; but unac-
countably lingers beyond the day ap-
pointed for the marriage. The chief's son
dies suddenly, and Reginald, on the sum-
mons, hastens home ; but he returns dis-
trait, cold, constrained, yet still professing
to prosecute the contract with his lovely
cousin Edith. Suddenly the chief's wife,
whom he had not seen for years, comes
on a visit, professedly of condolence,
and brings with her the young countess,
blooming in beauty and brilliant in man-
ners. The cause of Reginald's gloom
is too soon cleared up — he had met with
the countess abroad, was fascinated by
her charms, but still desperately resolved
to fulfil his engagement, unless he could
force Edith to a voluntary relinquish-
ment. The real state of his affections is
accidently discovered to poor Edith, and
she resolutely renounces him, though
brought almost to the grave by the
shock. In a few years the old chief dies,
and leaves his daughter penniless, for the
estate is entailed upon Reginald. She
becomes dependent on relations, and goes
to London, where she again comes in
contact with the insidious Florinda and
her perfidious lover, now the husband of
the countess — who are as miserable as
any two fashionable spendthrifts, of un-
congenial tempers, can possibly be. But
in London also she encounters a youth —
a stranger to every body, but a great
favourite with some naval commander,
for his distinguished gallantry in the
Greek service — who makes a deep im-
pression upon Edith, and who finally
proves to be the long lost Ronald. The
result is obvious. But the value of the
novel consists in the full development of
the characters and nothing but the
perusal can convey an adequate impres-

Wavertey Novels.— The Pirate.— The
scene of the Pirate, as every- body knows,
is in Zetland, and Sir Walter Scott, in his
preface to the new edition, details the
occasion on which he made his personal
acquaintance with the country. In 1814
he accompanied a party of the commis-
sioners for the Northern Light-House
service, in a voyage round the coast of
Scotland. Among the commissioners the
sheriff of each maritime county of Scot-
land holds a place, ex officio, at the
Board ; but though Sir Walter was him-
self sheriff of Selkirk, that county has
not, he observes, like the kingdom of
Bohemia in Corporal Trim's story, a
sea-port, nor its magistrate of course a
seat at the Board of Commissioners.
Nevertheless, he was invited to accom-
pany the party on the expedition, which,
though he had no public business with it,
he could readily turn to account. He
was, at the time, desirous of discovering
some localities that might be useful in
the " Lord of the Isles," on which poem
he was then engaged, and which was
published, he adds, soon afterwards
" without any remarkable success." But
at the same time, Waverley was work-
ing its way to popularity, and the author
already augured the possibility of a
second effort. He saw much in the wild
islands of the Orkneys and Zetland that
might be made good use of, should he
ever make them the scene of some ficti-
tious narrative. Sir Walter learnt, it
seems, the story of Gow the pirate from
an old sibyl on the spot, whose principal
subsistance was earned by selling favour-
able winds to the sailors at Stromness.
Norna was regarded by the critics of the
day, as a copy of Meg Merrilies — a little
to the author's surprise and annoyance ;
and he still thinks that there may be traced
in Norna, the victim of remorse and in-
sanity, and the dupe of her own impos-
ture— her mind too flooded with all the
wild literature and extravagant super-
stitions of the North— something dis-
tinct from the Dumfries-shire gipsy,
whose pretensions to supernatural powers
are not beyond those or a Norwood pro-
phetess.

The Music of the Church, £c., ly the
Rev. John Antes La Trobe, M. A.—" Next
to divinity no art is comparable to music,"
was Luther's declaration upon some oc-
casion— grounded, apparently, on Satan's
invincible and equal antipathy to both
good sermons and good tunes. Rowland
Hill, therefore, must have been under
some illusion when he talked of cheating
the devil by taking from him some of his
best tunes. Whatever may be Mr. La
Trobe's motive, he is as zealous as either
of these divines for the reformation of
church music, which he finds to be vil-
4 R 2

676

Monthly Review of Literature.

[JUNE,

lanously bad, in country churches espe-
cially. One of the main points of Mr.
La Trobe's well-written book is to urge
upon the clergy the necessity of bestir-
ring themselves for its amendment. He
is himself, as may be supposed, a musi-
cian, an d the son also of a man distinguish-
ed in the amateur world of music, and of
course considers the love of music one of
the first virtues, as the practice of it is
of the duties of life. With taste or with-
out— voice or no voice — every clergy-
man must hereafter qualify himself suf-
ficiently at least to shew his superiority
over a country choir, and take the con-
trol into his own hands. He proposes
music shall, henceforth, be as imperative
for the attainment of a degree in arts as
mathematics or the classics; and of course
every candidate must be tried by the
standard with which the chapters of ca-
thedrals actually do try their readers.
Mr. La Trobe enters minutely and fami-
liarly into the mode on which the exist-
ing clergy, not thus academically drilled,
may, by a little dexterous management
and very slight qualifications, at once set
about reforming his choir. He must go
very gently to work— first he will make
himself acquainted with the nature and
extent of the evil — then mingle with the
performers in conversation — talk to them
of the importance of their office — tell
them of nobler principles than pride —
inquire after their tunes — taking care to
throw in, occasionally, a few pertinent
remarks, just to shew that he knows
something of what he is talking about,
and above all to make them feel that he
takes an interest in their employment.
He must then propose an hour's practice
every week at the parsonage, where all
are to come, bad voices, bad instruments,
&c. He will solemnize the meeting with
a short prayer, and then, having won
their confidence, take the first step in the
path of reform. The tunes are the first
objects of attack, especially the boisterous
anthems and fugues (as Mr. La Trobe,
with becoming indignation, says they im-
pudently term them), which he is to re-
place with simpler and soberer compo-
sitions, and advance by degrees to such
melodies as, though formed upon the
rich combinations and stern dignity of
the chorale, yet attract by the fluency
of their measure, and readily approve
themselves to the popular taste. This
successfully accomplished, he will me-
ditate a stroke at the instruments. The
bassoon must be expelled at all hazards,
and fiddles, flutes, and pipes are all to be
replaced by a violincello, if practicable,
of which Mr. La Trobe is with some
reason doubtful. Then come the singers
— and a pretty task the reformer is likely
to have in curing such evils as — singing
out of tune, frequently too flat, and with

a nasal twang — straining the voice to an
unnatural pitch, as though it were a con-
test of physical strength — introducing
awkward drawls and tasteless ornaments,

None but an enthusiast of course would
dream of any practical good to be effected
in this wav, by men themselves without
any taste for the science. The good man
himself sees the difficulties, and verily
believes, he says, that had the taming
and bringing into order a country choir
been appointed for one of the labours of
Hercules, he would have been defeated.
Mr. La Trobe regrets the " glorious
days" are gone by when God was
pleased to appoint 50,000 servants to mi-
nister to the service of his temple, and
a large portion of them singers and mu-
sicians ; but he anticipates with a con-
fiding piety the musical raptures of a
millenium Sabbath, and finally of a ce-
lestial one, when he shall join in the
" everlasting song," &c.

But notwithstanding occasional ab-
surdities, the volume is written with re-
markable eloquence — materiam opus su-
perabat. The historical part is full of
information relative to church music,
such as cannot anywhere else be so
readily found.

Practical Treatise on Rail-Roads, fyc.,
by Nicholas Wood. Second edition. —
When Mr. Wood, about six years ago,
first published his book, rail-ways were,
as far as regards their application to
general purposes, quite in their infancy.
They were confined almost exclusively
to private purposes for the conveyance
of coals, lead, iron, &c. from the great
coal, lead, and iron works. The Surrey,
Stockton, and Darlington were the only
exceptions, and even the two latter were
not brought into actual operation. The
Liverpool and Manchester rail-way has
since been completed ; and the question
is settled of their utility, both as to
speed and cheapness, for conveyance of
goods and passengers between places of
considerable intercourse. Mr. Wood's
well executed volume — the second edi-
tion, just published — embraces an histo-
rical sketch of the different modes of in-
ternal communication — another, of the
introduction of rail-roads with their suc-
cessive improvements — descriptions of
the form and construction of carriages
used upon these roads— angles of incli-
nation best suited for each kind of mo-
tive power — experiments on the strength
and deflection of cast and malleable iron
rails — others on the friction of carriages
and of ropes — experiments on the effects
of self-acting planes, fixed steam-engine
planes, horses, and locomotive steam-
engines — and finally, a comparative esti-
mate of the advantages of canals and

1831.]

Domestic and Foreign.

677

rail- ways. The whole is accomplished
in a workman-like manner, and illus-
trated with competent engravings.

On the Distribution of Wealth, &c. By
the Rev. Richard Jones, A.M.—So little
satisfaction have writers upon Political
Economy wrought of late years, not-
withstanding the peremptory tone gene-
rally assumed by them, that we need
not wonder new books start up every
day, to set the very important matters
they discuss in a clearer light. The
truth is, undoubtedly, that the subject
in its full compass is yet comparatively
little understood, or their conclusions
would correspond oftener with facts than
they do. Writers are impatient to ad-
vance to conclusions beyond the warran-
ty of their evidence. Content with a
few facts that stare every body in the
face, they scarcely think it worth the
pains to bother about matters that re-
quire toil and patience to ascertain,
and thus risk assertions which have no
other basis than their own addled hypo-
thesis. They prefer a little authority
and abundance of conjecture to all that
the history of the world can furnish.
Mr. Jones takes a different course, and
like a man of common sense, and uncom-
mon discretion, betakes himself to the
enlargement of his premises, before he
ventures upon universal conclusions—
for unless they be of universal appli-
cation they are worth nothing.

The produce of labour must be distri-
buted, every body allows, in some pro-
portion or other, wholly amongst the
owners of land, of capital, and of labour

or more technically, into rent, profits,

and wages ; and under these heads Mr.
Jones proposes to class his collections
and his conclusions. The volume before
us — the first portion of his work — is oc-
cupied solely with the subject of rent ;
and a large space in it is taken up with
a survey of the circumstances under
which land is held and cultivated in
every quarter of the globe. Much va-
. luable information is accumulated, not
elsewhere brought together, within the
same pages ; and the result is, that the
theories of Ilicardo and his school, on
this topic, have obviously not a leg to
stand upon. They are "wholly conjec-
tural, and with them may be swept away
many of the gloomy axioms that, with
a certain class, have ruled their thoughts,
and influenced their actions, to the dete-
rioration of two-thirds of the population
of the country.

Rent, exclaim these philosophers par
excellence, exists because soils differ in
quality, and for that reason only. Were
all soils of equal fertility, there could
be no rents at all, and rents can only
increase through increasing that diffe-
rence by extra cultivation. But not in

one-hundredth part of the world is rent
obtained at all, in the sense of the Eco-
nomists. It is in England only it is chiefly
so obtained, and here, solely because
somebody thinks it worth his while to
pay it. The soil is the landlord's, by
political right, and he will let nobody
have the use of it without some return.
It is then because others want the
land, that he gets rent ; and one man
gets more than another, sometimes be-
cause his land is better than others, and
often from circumstances peculiar to the
neighbourhood.

Again, according to the same philoso-
phers, an increase of rent, so produced,
must be accompanied by a decrease in
the productive powers" of agriculture,
and by a proportionate reduction in the
gains of the productive classes. Of
course the interests of the landlords is
thus eternally opposed to those of all
others. They must grow rich at the
expense of capitalists and labourers ;
and this is taken as a law of nature, and
the Economists are perpetually urging
governments to accelerate the precious
accomplishment. But this decreasing
effect— just in proportion as nations mul-
tiply, and civilize, and economise their
industry — is a mere assumption ; and
besides it involves a second assumption
equally groundless, that labour is sup-
ported exclusively by funds saved from
income. But is not that portion of in-
come which is actually spent, spent upon
labour just as much, or what comes to^
the same thing, upon the productions of
labour ?

And then again, as to population, is it
not mere assumption — confounding all
common sense -that the more numerous
a people becomes, the more incapable
they are of providing for themselves ?
Certainly, if a given number, no matter
how small, is to monopolize the soil,
and rather let lands go waste than allow
others to occupy them — then all that
come in addition must starve ; but not
because they cannot provide for them-
selves, but because political institutions
preclude them from the chance and the
means. In short, the whole aim of this
pseudo-school of philosophy is to make
the world believe that the laws of man
are universally laws of nature, and of
course immutable.

To analyse Mr. Jones's volume re-
quires more space than we have at our
disposal ; but we recommend the perusal
of it heartily, as a book less of specula-
tion than of fact — as one of sound sense
and no sophistication. Profits and wages
will follow in future volumes, when the
author, with the largest materials he
can gather before him, proposes to dis-
cuss the sources of equitable taxation.
We have but one — that of property,
which should also govern the elective

678

Monthly Review of Literature,

[\JUNE,

suffrage. If property, suffrage, and
taxation, were commensurate, there
could be little cause for any class to
grumble.

Wedded Life in the Upper Ranks;
2 vols. — Compared with the pretensions
of these volumes, the performance is
miserable, and fairly entitled to the dis-
tinction of being the most contemptible,
in its class, of the season. The princi-
pal tale is a dull narrative of domestic
life, unenlivened by one spark of talent.
In point of incident it has little interest,
and that little is damped and deadened
by the hum-drum style in which the de-
tails are described. There is a plentiful
lack of essentials. It has neither force
nor humour — nothing striking in cha-
racter, nor discriminating in sentiment —
the level parts of the story have no ani-
mation, and the dialogue is utterly des-
titute of point or smartness. Among
the rest of its negative qualities, it has
nothing, not a line of it, that shews
actual acquaintance with the classes
whose habits it professes to exhibit, be-
yond the common hashes and minces
that come warmed up day after day, till
they are enough to make a cat sick.
But what are the peculiarities of Wedded
Life in the Upper Hanks ? One of the
tales tells of the Heir of a Marquisate,
who, in compliance with the wishes of
his anxious papa and mamma, married
a lovely woman, a protegee of their own,
for whom, with all her charms, he does
not care a fig. The noble youth had
past his teens— had been in the world
and the wars, and in the general pursuit
of life was already use ; but in very
early youth, or boyhood rather, he had
fallen over head and ears in love with a
lady, who, he believed, chose to marry
somebody else, and shortly after died — •
by which sad events his whole stock of
love was exhausted, and the sources for
ever, apparently dried up. He became
cold, dark, gloomy, and indifferent,
not only to the ladies, but to life, and
all its enjoyments.

The lady who has the ill-luck to marry
this miserable personage, is of course
neglected, and all but harshly treated ;
and, lovely and amiable as she is, in im-
minent danger of loving somebody else
who might be disposed to reciprocate.
The devil never sleeps, and an agent of
mischief is at hand, and, as was very
natural, in the person of the noble lord's
bosom friend and confidant. The lady,
however, when just at the brink of the
precipice, steps back, and escapes the
irretrievable fall ; and in the meanwhile,
the gloomy marquess, at some foreign
court, discovers the very lady, whose
death had withered his affections, in the
land of the living, and in the capacity of
a kept mistress — which was in fact the

part she had always played. The dis-
covery sweeps away his sighs and his
sorrows, and, what is better, replenishes
the fountains of love, which, without
loss of time, he pours, full, fresh, and
overflowing, upon his neglected wife —
and the pair are as happy as bridal folks
can be in the " Upper Ranks."

The other tale is simply a sketch —
superior in execution to the more com-
plicated tale— of the comfortable position
of a country gentleman of £10,000 a
year, who has married a kept-mistress,
and is cut by all his respectable neigh-
bours. But it matters little what are
the materials a writer chooses to work
upon, if he understands neither their
capabilities, nor the use of his tools.

A Compendious Exposition of the Prin-
ciple and Practice of Professor Jacotofs
System of Education, by Joseph Payne. — •
Mr. Payne has the merit of making
known in England M. Jacotofs System
of Education, or more correctly, M.
Jocotot's Mode of Teaching Languages.
He is also preparing several books for
the acquisition of Latin, Greek, French,
Italian, &c. on the same plan. The
Epitome Sacrse Historic is already pub-
lished, accompanied with a literal trans-
lation, and prefixed by a sketch of
M. Jacotofs principles. We have no
doubt this same method is admirably
calculated to accelerate the acquisition
of language, if of nothing else. Every
one has now perhaps some general notion
of the plan — it is to commit the contents
of some one book to memory, repeating
it incessantly, and analysing every sen-
tence, phrase, word, and syllable — which,
once accomplished, will enable the stu-
dent with little difficulty, to read any
other book of the same language. The
labour is all at the beginning, but that
is, it must be allowed, immense, both,
for pupil and teacher. M. Jacotot and
his admirers anticipate another advan-
tage—but an use which we are disposed
very strongly to deprecate. This same
method which, impressing the pupil by
dint of repetition with a multitude of
ready-made sentences — a living diction-
ary of phrases, will also supply him with
the means of expressing his own concep-
tions and with phrases of the best qua-
lity too — for of course a well- written
book will be chosen. But what will
this produce but mere trickery — a piece
of patch-work — the revival of a cento-
taste—communicating the form of ele-
gance without the spirit of it — and
teaching the world, what it already
does sufficiently, to cloth inanity in
pompous periods. Behold a printed
specimen : —

" Calypso was inconsolable 'for the
departure of Ulysses. In her grief she
found it a misery to be immortal : her

I83L]

Domestic and Foreign.

679

grotto echoed no more with songs — her
attendant nymphs durst not address
her," &c.

Now for the kind of imitation which
M. Jacotot patronizes: —

" Caroline was inconsolable for the
death of her mother. In the height of
her sorrow, she thought it an unhappi-
ness to survive her. Her apartment
echoed no more with the sound of her
voice, nor with that of her harp— her
attendants durst not address her for fear
of increasing her sadness," &c.

Is there any English mother who
would force this kind of parodying
upon her children, and think it an ac-
quisition ? Yes, thousands, and proud
of it too.

Standard Novels, Vol. III. Cooper's
Spy. — Mr. Cooper's " Spy" is founded
upon an authenticated fact. During the
revolutionary war, both parties employed
spies, for which their common language
gave great facilities. After the close of
the war, a member of congress demanded
remuneration, without disclosing the
name, for an individual, whom he repre-
sented as having encountered extraordi-
nary perils on the hazardous service of
a spy. The remuneration was granted
on the faith of the proposer ; but refused
by the individual himself — who had been
actuated throughout by the most ele-
vated motives, though in a disreputable
commission — on the ground that the na-
tion, exhausted by its long exertions, had
too much need of its money for other
purposes. Mr. Cooper knew nothing of
the party, but built, his fiction on the
facts detailed before the congress. The
tale has been carefully revised— much of
it re-written, and forms one of a series
of tales better adapted to communicate a
thorough knowledge of America than all
the histories and travels, that have ever
been published of the country.

Family Library, Vol. XXI. Palgrave's
History of England, during the Saxon
period. — Mr. Palgrave's history of the
Saxons is better calculated than any-
thing we iiave read, to throw an interest
over our early annals. His perfect ac-
quaintance with the details of the period,
as far as they can be gathered" from the
relics which time has left, gave him a
great advantage over all competitors in
this department— his great familiarity
with the subject enables him to describe
and discuss with confidence, ease, and
effect. In his recent controversy with
Mr. Nicolas, he had not very favourably
impressed us — but he obviously gave
way to temper; and a man's intellect,
and acquirements, and above all his
powers of communicating, are not to be
judged of by his temper, or his con-
duct.

Cabinet Cyclopaedia, Vol. XVIII. Sir
James Mackintosh's History, Vol. II. —
This second volume conducts Sir James's
history to the death of Mary. With the
reign of Henry commences a visible im-
provement— he writes con amore, as he
comes upon periods which have engaged
more of his attention. The develop-
ment of principles, the influence of which
has extended to our own times, rouses
all his powers. The new volume is a far
more favourable specimen of what may
be anticipated than the first. It is every-
way an amendment — the very style is
easier, though still occasionally obscure
and stiff, especially when he attempts to
generalize and condense into maxims.
The chief value of his performance will
be found to consist in the close scrutiny
with which he examines the evidence for
facts, and the care with which he esti-
mates characters — exhibiting every where
the well-considered results of a sound
judgment, guided by a liberal spirit, and
exempt from prejudice.

Epitome of English Literature, Vol. II.
— The volume contains Paley 's Evidence,
compressed into something less than one
half of the original — with a portion of
Locke's Essay, which is condensed at
about the same rate. Certainly Locke
is more susceptible of useful abridgment
than Paley. A good deal of his book is
occupied in discussing debateable mat-
ter, much of which has lost its interest;
and nobody will deny but the manner,
by its lengthiness wearies ; still, for our-
selves, we prefer the original — because
we like at all times the writer better than
the interpreter ; but we believe, never-
theless, Locke will have a better chance
of being read, if not understood, in the
present epitomised shape. People will
not be so likely, henceforth, to have
Locke in their mouths, and on their
pens, without knowing anything about
him, as before, and so far this will be
a good.

The Sunday Library, Vol. III. — Dr.
Dibdin, for his third volume, has called
from the dead some specimens of pulpit
eloquence, as the phrase is, from Horsley,
White, and Parr, and of the living, from
the Bishops of Durham and Bristol (Van
Mildred and Gray,) and Dr. D'Oyly of
Lambeth. Parr's volumes would have
furnished better sermons than either of
the two selected by Dr. Dibdin — espe-
cially among those which were written
in his maturer days. The editor has
added, in a note, some extracts from
Gaudin, which prove him, Gaudin (not
Dibdin), at least equal to the composition
of the Icon Basilike — to the authorship of
which he has undoubtedly the best title.
The Sunday Library will close with the
sixth volume.

680

Monthly Review of Literature,

[JUNE,

Classical Family Library — Theophras-
tus. — These little sketches of characters
existing in far distant ages, and under
institutions, the effects of which we can
with difficulty trace, have yet in them
much that depends wholly upon the
nature of man, and which will, like the
poor, never depart from the land. An
attempt has been made by an able artist
to delineate the expressions of these
characters in a series of portraits, of
which, though some must be regarded

as very like failures, many are admir-
able, and worthy the pencil of Cruik-
shank. Caricature could alone have
been at all effective. The value of the
book is greatly enhanced by these illus-
trations.

Cabinet Library, Vol. IF.— The volume
concludes the annual retrospect of public
affairs. A very spirited sketch, with too
much of detail — far too minute and
lengthy for the occasion.

FINE ARTS' PUBLICATIONS.

NINE numbers of the Views in the
East have now appeared, and the work
in its advancement loses nothing of the
interest and excellence with which it
commenced. The engravings of the
eight and ninth parts comprise views of
the Mosque of Mustapha Khan, Beeja-
pore ; Ruins south side of old Delhi,
very bright and picturesque ; King's
Fort, Boorhanpore ; Pagodah, between
Canton and Whampoa ; Hindoo Temple
at Chandngoan ; Grass Rope Bridge at
Teree, Gurwall ; which last is one of
the most curious and beautiful of the
series. The value of these views is con-
siderably enhanced by the information
contained in the historical notes and de-
scriptions that accompany them.

The additions made to the National
Portrait Gallery in the two numbers of
that work recently published, are far
from being among the least interesting,
either as regards the subjects selected,
or the character of the engravings.
George the Fourth is at the head of
them ; then follow John Heaviside, Esq.,
Admiral Duncan, the Duke of Sussex
(from a picture by Phillips, not remark-
able for its likeness, and in a dress that
amounts to a disguise,) Curran (from
Lawrence's portrait, cloudy and charac-
teristic,) and the Marquis Cornwallis.
Most of these may be classed among the

best executed and highly finished en-
gravings that have appeared in this ad-
mirable collection. The lives contain
more original and selected information
than could have been expected in the
space, although the tone of them seems
to be somewhat too eulogistic.

The Landscape Illustrations of the'
Waverley Novels continue to hold their
station among the best publications of
this class of art ; the new embellishments
are Solway Lands, Redgauntlet ; Stir-
ling Castle. Waverley; Warncliffe,
Ivanhoe; Links of Eymouth, Bride of
Lammermoor ; Home Castle, the Anti-
quary ; Maver Glen, Black Dwarf; and
Warwick Castle, and Warwick from the
Kenilworth Road, Kenilworth. Of the
artists, Copley Fielding, if not more
successful, has been far more industrious
than his competitors, having contributed
several of these designs, many of which
are very beautiful, and all being exe-
cuted in Finden's happiest manner.

We have again to commend, which
we do most cordially, the taste and beauty
of the outlines of Painting and Sculpture
in the English School. The two numbers
before us contain outlines of some of the
choicest productions of Reynolds, Ho-
garth, Gainsborough, Collins, West-
macott, Bacon, Stanfield, &c.

WORKS IN THE PRESS AND NEW PUBLICATIONS.

WORKS IN THE PRESS.

By Henry Lavves Long, Esq. : The
Route of Hannibal from the Rhone to
the Alps.

By Dr. Biber : An Account of the
Life and Writings of Henry Pestalozzi ;
with copious Extracts from his Works,
selected chiefly with a view to illustrate
the practical parts of his Method of In-
struction.

By the Rev. E. Bowles : The Life of
Thomas Kerr, deprived Bishop of Bath
and Wells, Vol. II., including the pe-
riod of Fanatical Puritanism, from 1640
to the death of Cromwell.

By the Author of the Castillian : Paris
and London, a Satirical Novel.

By D. E. Williams : The Naval and
Military Battles of England during the
last two Reigns.

Edited by Miss Jane Porter: Sir
Edward Seaward's Narrative of his Ship-
wreck, and consequent Discovery of cer-
tain Islands in the Caribean Sea, with a
Detail of many extraordinary and inter-
esting Events in his Life, from the year
1733 to 1749, as written in his own Diary.

By Thomas Moore, Esq. : The Life
and Death of Lord Edward Fitz-Gerald,
in two volumes, with a portrait.

1831.]

List of New Works.

681

By Thaddeus Bulgarin : Ivan Ve-
jeeghen, or Life in Russia, a Novel.

By William Beattie, M.D. : Journal
of a Residence at the Courts of Ger-
many ; written during a personal attend-
ance upon their present Majesties, dur-
ing their visits to that country, in 1822,
1825, and 1826.

By Robert Southey, LL.D. : Select
Works of the British Poets, from Chau-
cer to Johnson.

By George Lindley. Edited by John
Lindley : A Guide to the Fruit and
Kitchen Garden ; or an Account of all
the most valuable Fruits and Vegetables
cultivated in Great Britain.

By. W. Turton : A Manual of the
Land and Fresh- Water Shells hitherto
discovered in Great Britain.

By Major Ricketts : A Narrative of
the Ashantee War, including the parti-
culars of the Capture and Massacre of
Sir Charles McCarthy, Governor of the
western coast of Africa, and the subse-
quent military operations of the British
and Native Allied Forces on that coast,
from 1822 to 1828.

LIST OF NEW WORKS.

BIOGRAPHY AND

Memoirs of the Stuart Dynasty, in-
cluding the Constitutional and Eccle-
siastical History of England, from the
decease of Elizabeth to the abdication of
James II. By Robert Vaughan, Au-
thor of " The Life and Opinions of
Wycliffe." 2 vols. 8vo. 24s.

The Correspondence of Isaac Basire,
D.D., Archdeacon of Northumberland,
in the Reigns of Charles I. and II., with
a Memoir of his Life. By W. N. Dar-
nell. 8vo. 12s.

Cabinet Library. Vol. IV. (Annual
Retrospect of Public Affairs for 1831.
2 vols. Vol II.) 5s.

Lardner's Cabinet Cvclop^dia.
Vol. XVIII. (History of' England.
Vol. II.) 6s.

Memoirs of Madame Du Barri, Mis-
tress of Louis XV. of France, written
by herself. Vol. IV. 12mo. 6s. I8mo.
3s. 6d.

Historical Gleanings on the Memora-
ble Field of Naseby. By Henry Lock-
inge, M. A., late curate of Naseby. 8vo.
Price 7s. bds.

Necropolis Glasguensis ; with Obser-
vations on Ancient and Modern Tombs
and Sepulture. By John Strang. 8vo.
with plates. 3s. cloth bds.

Family Library. Vol. XXII. The
Lives of Scotish Worthies. By P. F.
Tytler, Esq — Contents, Alexander III.,
Michael Scott, Sir William Wallace,
and Robert Bruce.

The Life of Sir Thomas Lawrence.
By D. E. Williams, Esq. 2 vols. 8vo.
£1. 12s.

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. 66.

Mackenzie's Life of Thomas Muir,
the Scotish Reformer. 12mo. 4s.

Watson's Life of the Rev. J. Wesley.
12mo. 5s. 6d.

The Life and Times of England's
Patriot King, William the Fourth.
Part I. Price 2s. With two engrav-
ings.

Life of the Rev. E. Erskine. 12mo.
7s. 6d.

Memoirs of Jane Ludson. By the
Rev. B. Hall Draper. 18mo. 2s.

EDUCATION.

Elements of the Differential and In-
tegral Calculus, comprehending the
Theory of Curve Surfaces, and of Curves
of double Curvature. Intended as a
Sequel to the Analytical Geometry.
ByJ.R. Young. 12mo. Is.

Wright's Algebra. Parts I. and II.,
as published in the Private Tutor, in-
tended as a Supplement to Wood's Al-
gebra. 8vo. 12s.

Cambridge Classical Examination Pa-
pers, a second Series, containing Papers
on the Greek Testament, Hebrew Scho-
larship, and Fellowship Examination.
8vo. 8s.

Cambridge Problems, from 1821 to
1830. 8vo. 7s.

Hebrew Etymology and Syntax. By
Hyman Hurwitz. 8vo. 12s. Ditto
Grammar. 8vo. 17s.

Spiller's Exercises on French Pronun-
ciation. 12mo. 4s. 6d.

Familiar German Exercises. By M.
Bernay. 12mo. 6s. 6d.

Honoiiymes Fran9ais. 12mo. 3s.

The Mythology of Ancient Greece
and Italy ; intended chiefly for the use
of Students at the Universities, and the
higher Classes in Schools. By Thomas
Keightley, Author of " Fairy Mytho-
logy." With twelve plates, containing
Etchings from the Antique, by W. H.
Brooke, Esq. 8vo. 18s.

MEDICAL.

Outlines of the Ancient History of
Medicine, being a view of the Progress
of the Healing Art among the Egyp-
tians, Greeks, Romans, and Arabians.
By D. M.'Moir, Surgeon. 8vo. 6s.

Distinction without Separation, in a
Letter to the President of the College
of Surgeons on the present State of the
Profession. By. J. H. Green. 2s. 6d.

Essays and Orations, read and deli-
vered at the Royal College of Physi-
cians. By Sir Henry Halford, Bart.
8vo. 6s. 6d.

Hamilton's History of Medicine.
2 vols. 8vo. 24s.

Scott's Art of Preventing the Loss of
Teeth. 8vo. 5s. 6d.

MISCELLANEOUS.

On the Institution and Abuse of
Ecclesiastical Property. By the Rev.
E. Hull. 8vo. 6s.

4 S

C82

List of New Works.

Family Cabinet Library, complete.
12mp. 30s. Coloured £2. 2s.

Killarney Legends, arranged as a
Guide to the Lakes. Edited by T.
Crofton Croker, Esq.

The English and Jewish Tithe Sys-
tem compared, in their Origin, their
Principles, and their moral and social
Tendencies. By Thomas Stratten. 12mo.
5s.

Leigh's Music of the Eye, or Essays
on Architecture. Royal 8vo. 30s.

A Caution to Bankers, Merchants,
&c. 12mo. 3s. 6d.

Panorama of Constantinople and its
Environs. Royal 4to. 20s. Coloured
£1. 14s.

Tate's Foreign Exchanges. 8vo. 8s.

Lochley's New Picture of London.
18mo. 4s. Coloured 4s. 6d.

Ornithological Biography, or an Ac-
count of the Habits of the Birds of the
United States of America ; accompanied
by Descriptions of the Objects repre-
sented in the work entitled " The Birds
of America," and interspersed with
Delineations of American Scenery and
Manners. By John James Audubon.
Imperial 8vo. £1. 5.

NOVELS AND TALES.

Haverhill, or Memoirs of an Officer
in the Army of Wolfe. By James A.
Jones, Esq. 3 vols. 12mo. £1. 11s. 6d.

Roscoe's Novelist's Library. Vol. I.
and II. (Robinson Crusoe.) 12mo. 5s.
each.

Boxobel. By Mrs. Sherwood. 3 vols.
12mo. £1. 7s.

The Twelve Nights. By a contribu-
tor to some of the principal Periodicals.
Post 8vo. 10s. Gd.

Scenes in our Parish. By a Country
Parson's Daughter. 12mo. 5s.

Fitz- Raymond, or the Rambler of the
Rhine. 8vo. 7s. 6d.

Atherton, a Tale of the last Century.
By the Author of " Rank arid Talent."
3 vols. Post 8vo.

Tales of a Physician ; second Series.
By W. H. Harrison.

POETRY.

Rose's Orlando Furioso. Vol. VIII.
Crown 8vo. 9s. 6d.

Enthusiasm, and other Poems. By
Susanna Strickland. 12mo.

Family Library. Dramatic Series.
Vol. IV. (^Eschylus.) 18mo. 5s. ,

RELIGION AND MORALS.

Reason for the Hope that is in Us, a
Series of Essays on the Evidence of Na-
tural and Revealed Religion, &c. By
Robert Ainslie. 12mo. 4s. 6d.

Sermons by Sir. Henry Moncrieff.
Vol. III. 8vo. 10s. 6d.

Best's Sermons on the Amusements of
the Stage. 12mo. 5s. 6d.

Pluralities Indefensible. By Richard
Newton, D.D. 8vo. 3s.

The Chief Concerns of Man. By the
Rev. M. Bickersteth. 12mo. 5s.

Irving' s Lectures on the Revelation.
4 vols. 12mo. 22s.

Bishop Jebb's Pastoral Instruction.
12mo. 7s.

Sermons by the Rev. J. Slade. 12mo.
6s.

Familiar Introduction to the Chris-
tian Religion, in a Series of Letters.
By a Senior. 12mo. 7s.

The Young Christian's Sunday Even-
ing. 12mo. 4s-

The Atonement and Sacrament of
the Lord's Supper considered. 12mo.
3s. 6d.

Tyso's Inquiry after Prophetic Truth.
8vo. 7s. 6d.

Grove's Missionary Journal. 12mo.
5s.

Wynpersse on the Divinity of our
Lord, with Introduction and Notes. By
W. L. Alexander. 18mo. 3s. Gd.

Alexander on the Canon of Scripture.
12mo. 6s. 6d.

VOYAGES AND TRAVELS.

Journal of Voyages and Travels. By
the Rev. D. Pyerman and George Ben-
net, Esq., deputed by the London Mis-
sionary Society to visit the various
Stations in the South Sea Islands,
China, and India, &c. &c., between 1821
and 1829 ; compiled from the original
Documents by James Montgomery, Esq.
2 vols. 8vo. 36s.

Select Library. Vol. III. Being the
third volume of Polynesian Researches
during a Residence of nearly eight Years
in the Society and Sandwich. By Wm.
Ellis.

Edinburgh Cabinet Library. Vol. III.

Ancient and Modern Egypt. 12mo.
5s.

Wright's Account of Slavery at the
Cape of Good Hope. 8vo. 4s.

1831.]

£ 683

PATENTS FOR MECHANICAL AND CHEMICAL INVENTIONS.

List of Patents sealed in April, 1831.

To William Dixon, Walsall, Stafford,
brass cock founder, for an improvement
or improvements on the cock or tap, ap-
plicable to fluids, liquids, and gases. —
21st April ; 6 months.

To Joshua Taylor Beale, Church-
lane, Whitechapel, Middlesex, engineer,
for an improvement in certain apparatus,
for separating a portion of aqueous va-
pour of alcohol in the process of distil-
ling and rectifying spirituous liquors. —
30th April ; 6 months.

To George Stephenson, Liverpool,
civil engineer, for an improvement in
the mode of constructing wheels for rail-
way carriages.— 30th April ; 4 months.

To William Gutteridge, Clerkenwell,
Middlesex, civil engineer, for certain
improvements in apparatus for distilling,
and other purposes. — , 18th May ; 6
months.

To Robert Burton Cooper, Battersea,
Surrey, Esq. for an improvement or im-

provements on a cock or tap applicable
to fluids, liquids, and gases, and for ap-
plying the said improvement or im-
provements to other purposes. — 18th
May ; 6 months.

List of Patents which having been granted
in the month of June, 1817, expire in
the present month of June, 1 83 1 .

— Charles Wyatt, London, for his
method of preventing any disadvantageous
accumulation of heat in manufacturing
sugar.

— Benjamin Ager Day, Birmingham,
for his improved chimney ornaments.

— Gabriel Tigere, London, for his im-
proved writing paper.

— John Parnall, St. Austell, Corn-
wall, for his method of tinning brass, cop-
per, or zinc.

— Thomas Whittle and George Ey-
toii, Chester, for their improved kiln.

BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS.

WILLIAM HAMPER, ESQ. F.S.A.

This amiable gentleman and profound
antiquary terminated his mortal career
on the 2d instant, at Highgate, near
Birmingham ; but his name and memory
will be perpetuated in the annals of
archaeology and topography as long as
those branches of literature are studied
and admired. Of his talents, and many
estimable personal qualities, we can
speak from personal knowledge; and
with sincere pleasure, but painful feel-
ings, we put on record a few facts relat-
ing to both. The tenor of his private
life was uniformly kind, courteous, and
active ; his devotion to those literary
studies connected with the topography
and antiquities of his own county (War-
wickshire) was ardent and indefatigable ;
and his willingness to impart information
to persons engaged in literary studies
was most exemplary. Though much
engrossed in one of the Birmingham
manufactories, he contrived to appro-
priate many hours in the week to his
favourite study — that of investigating
and transcribing the manuscript archives
of the kingdom. This pursuit led him
to examine many public and private li-
braries, and thereby enabled him to amass
a large store of materials, illustrative of
genealogical history, the manners and
customs of our ancestors, and the arts
and literature of the olden time. Besides
numerous letters of distinguished indivi-
duals of different ages, he had collected
a series of ancient seals and documents,

of various kinds ; and, with a neatness
and methodical order peculiar to himself,
had arranged and classed them with the
most scrupulous attention to dates and
subjects. In early life, he travelled over
most parts of England ; and was inde-
fatigable in visiting every object of anti-
quity and interest that came within a
reasonable distance of his prescribed
route. In the punctual execution of
business, his course as well as time were

Erescribed; and, therefore, all hobby-
orsical pursuits were necessarily taken
from the usual hours of rest and meals.
Herein he set an example worthy of imi-
tation ; and one that might be honour-
ably and usefully adopted by many of
the modern " commercial gentlem'en,"
who are rather too much addicted to the
cigar and wine-glass. The Gentleman's
Magazine contains numerous scraps of
antiquarian information, communicated
by Mr. Hamper during his journeys ;
and he continued his correspondence
with our respected and respectable friend
Sylvanus Urban, almost up to the pre-
sent time.

Since he became a member of the So«
ciety of Antiquaries of London, he wrote
several interesting essays for the Archaeo-
logia, which are distinguished for inge-
nuity of illustration, and a condensed,
apposite style.

Holding a literary correspondence
with many of the most distinguished
characters of the age, his letters are not
only remarkable for the neat and beauti-

4 S 2

684

Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons.

[JUNE,

ful hand-writing in which they are exe-
cuted, but for the fund ot wit, good hu-
mour, and information they contain. In
the prefaces to many topographical and
archaeological publications the name of
Hamper is recorded with the highest tes-
timonies of esteem and gratitude. To
Ormerod's " Cheshire," Blakeway's
" Shrewsbury," Dugdale's " Monasti-
cpn," Button's '• Architectural Antiqui-
ties," Cartwright's " Sussex," and other
works, he furnished many valuable com-
munications.

At the solicitation of Mr. Harding (of
the firm of Harding and Lepard), Mr.
Hamper undertook and completed a very
interesting memoir of Dugdale, of whom
Wood, in " Fasti Oxonienses," says,
" What Dugdale has done is prodigious ;
his memory ought to be venerated and
had in everlasting remembrance." The
handsome and large volume which Mr.
Hamper has devoted to the memory and
talents of our inestimable monastic anti-
quary and topographer contains an ac-
count of his life and writings, copious
extracts from his diary, and a large series
of letters to and from many of his con-
temporaries. As long as this volume re-
mains a memorial of the talents and in-
dustry of the person commemorated, it
will perpetuate the name of Hamper in
connection with it, and be mutually ho-
nourable.

Believing that a more detailed memoir
of the respected and lamented person
here noticed will be speedily prepared
for publication by an intimate friend, we
have been induced to pay this passing
and brief tribute of respect to his me-
mory in this place.

Mr. Hamper was born on the 12th of
Dec. l??^^ and was consequently in the
55th year of his age. On the 6th of Nov.
1803, he married Jane, daughter of Wil-
liam Sharpe, Esq. of Newport, in the
Isle of Wight, who died 6th of June,
1829, leaving three daughters. He was
an honorary member of the Society of
Antiquaries of Newcastle, and for many
years an active magistrate for the coun-
ties of Warwick and Worcester.

THE EARL OF DAHNLEY.

The Right Hon. John Bligh, Earl of
Darnley, Viscount Darnley, of Athboy,

Baron Clifton, of Rathmore, in the
county of Meath, and Lord Clifton, of
Leighton Bromswold, Hereditary High
Steward of Gravesend and Milton,
F.R.S., D.C.L., &c. was descended from
an ancient family originally seated in
the counties of Kent, Devon, and Corn-
wall, but whose chief possessions have
long been in Ireland. The English
Barony of Clifton came into the family
of Bligh by the marriage, in 1713, of
Theodosia, heiress of Edward Hyde,
Earl of Clarendon, and Baroness of
Clifton in her own right, with John
Bligh, Esq., son of the Right Hon.
Thomas Bligh, of Rathmore, in the
county of Meath, whose father had set-
tled in Ireland during the usurpation.
This gentleman was, in 1721, created
Baron Clifton, of Rathmore ; in 1722-3,
Viscount Darnley ; and in 1725, Earl of
Darnley.,"

The late Earl was born on the 30th
of June, 1767. He was educated at Eton
and Oxford ; and he succeeded his father,
John, third Earl of Darnley, on the 31st
of July, 1781. His Lordship married
in September, 1791, Elizabeth, daughter
of the Right Hon. William Brownlow,
of Largan, in Ireland, by whom he had
a family of six children. "

Lord Darnley was uniformly a whig.
In 17^8, he supported the Prince on the
question of the regency ; he took part
with Queen Caroline on the proceedings
which were instituted against her by
government ; he was one of the most
strenuous advocates of Catholic eman-
cipation ; and his aid, by motion, speech,
and vote, was always in favour of what
has become the popular cause. His
income was large ; in its expenditure,
prudence and liberality were blended.
His Lordship was exceedingly fond of
music, and he was one of the directors
of the annual musical concerts.

Lord Darnley had been ill some weeks
previously to his decease, but was so far
recovered as to attend the Rochester
Meeting on Tuesday the 15th of March.
On his return he found himself seriously
indisposed, but declined Medical aid.
On Wednesday night, he believed him-
self better ; but, on the succeeding
morning he was found dead in his bed.

MONTHLY AGRICULTURAL REPORT.

UPON backward lands, much barley remained to be put into the ground in the
middle of the present month. Potatoe planting has been somewhat forward, and
the sowing of turnips has commenced : as also sheep-shearing, on the conclusion of
which we may say, thus endeth the last operation of the spring season, and with
no slight self-gratulation to many of us, who have thereby got clear of a protracted
and expensive line of operations. But as a drawback, the most important view is
not very cheering not only from the lateness of the season, but from the imperfect
culture of the lands, and the enormous load of weed vegetation, accumulating and
fostering in their bowels ; a profitable stock lying perdue for the benefit of years
and years to come.

1831.] Agricultural Report. 685

The month of April, bating a few days, has been sufficiently lauded. -The com-
mencement of the present month, we fear, balanced the account of profit and loss
too heavily on the adverse side. Deluges of rains, with the wind on the unfavour-
able side of the compass, succeeded by sharp frosts, ice and snow. The fruit
trees, laden with the most promising shew of blossom and bud, were the first and
greatest sufferers. Much of the wall-fruit is irrecoverably cut off, and in the great
orchard counties, where upon a farm, the fruit, had the season proved genial, might
have realized £500 or £600, two or three frosty nights have in prospectu caused a
defalcation to the amount of two thirds. All the corn and pulse crops and the
artificial grasses have shared, more or less, in the calamity. The wheat, happily
the most nardy, as most important, has stood the shock, with least injury; but
some of the poor, heavy land wheats appear yellow and rough, and that which is
worse, to look forward, a nidus is provided for the incubation and prolific increase of
the blight insect. The wheats, nevertheless, on all good dry lands, are strong and
luxuriant, and with a genial blooming season will no doubt produce a profitable
crop. Oats have resisted the atmospheric attack, as most hardy, with the least
injury. Barley has suffered much, and beans ; peas most of all ; and it is said, there
is a considerable breadth which it will be advantageous to plough up. It is not
possible that the hops, the most sensitive of all our crops, can have escaped ; the
fly has appeared, and the hop market has advanced fifteen to twenty per cent.
Hops seven or eight years old, are most in request. A countryman of ours, Mr.
Adams, the celebrated meteorologist, has noticed the late severity of the weather
on the 7th current, observing, that " every tree and shrub, more or less, felt the
extreme severity." We join him in opinion that the climate of this country has
retrograded, in comparison with former days. He commenced his meteorological
career in 1774 ; without pretending to any character in that science, we can say, in
a single instance, we preceded him, having lately looked over a daily attentive
register of the weather, which we kept in Suffolk, in the year 17C8. It was the
most genial, constant and beautiful spring we ever witnessed. What a strange
atmospheric contrast ! With a north-east wind during two or three days last past,
we have enjoyed a mild and genial temperature.

Never was there less of the various grass seeds left after the season, but that of
turnips has been plentiful and cheap. Since the late severe frosts, the weather has
continued dry and mild, considering that the wind, with the exception of a single
day, has blown from the north-east or east, south-east. A favourable and timely
turn with genial showers, would work miracles of improvement on all the crops.
The grasses are forward beyond expectation, and there is a fair prospect of another
great grass and hay year. Good English oak and other timber has had a slight
advance, and also bark a somewhat greater, both from its scarcity on account of the
impossibility of securing it from the state of the weather, and from the tanning trade
being late open. The Lapland cabbage-tree, which attains the height of four or five
feet, and the leaves of which are upwards of a foot in length, has been naturalized in
France as a cattle food. It resists, unaffected, the severest and longest frosts. Such is
the scarcity of English wheat, that the immense importations, however they occa-
sionally affect the markets, yet have not the effect of reducing prices below that
rate which must be deemed high, and which well remunerates the fortunate dry
land farmer. Barley and oats are in request and advancing in price. As to live
stock, pigs, notwithstanding the immense import from Ireland, are again some-
what dearer. This is a kind of stock, into the breeding of which our English
farmers generally decline entering to any great extent, from an aversion to the
trouble attendant upon it. The cattle markets and fairs, for both lean and store
stock, have been amply supplied, the stock going off with various success to the
sellers, but chiefly on account of the advanced season, at reduced prices. Good
sheep and lambs have suffered little reductions in price, from their scarcity ; but
all the breeders and graziers on dubious lands are under great apprehensions on
the score of the rot, the infection of which seems to have yet suffered no check.
Good cart horses hold their price, the prime sizes of which, fit for London work,
have reached the enormous rate of £70 and £80. The best fresh saddle and coach
horses have suffered no reduction.

In SCOTLAND, our accounts of the wheat crop are still more unfavourable. A
greater breadth than before noted has been ploughed up, and re-sown with spring
crops ; and that which to us is a novel practice, among much of the wheat suffered
to remain, oats or barley has been sown upon it. Of their spring crops and grasses
the account is flattering, and their pastures are filled with stores purchased at a
low price. The Tay is burdened with the number of foreign ships laden with corn
Their potatoe husbandry has been forward and successful, and in the north, that
best of all late potatoes, the red species, from the vast demand for the London
market, has been cultivated to such an extent as to cause an apprehension that it
may interfere disadvantageously with the culture of other crops. We have not

686 Agricultural and Commercial Reports. [\JuNE,

yet heard of the effects in the north, of the late severe atmospheric attacks.
Amongst individual cultivators in South WALES, a very laudable anxiety for im-
provement has, during some years, subsisted, grounded on very accurate and solid
views of the subject. By them, the inestimable benefit of cleaning and aerating
the soil, and of placing the field upon a level with the garden, is critically under-
stood and reduced to practice. Not so with the bulk or Welsh cultivation, which
vies or out-vies with England, in the national ambition, as it would seem, of ren-
dering their fields hot-beds of useless and destructive vegetation. They have had
their share of damage to the crops, from the late severe weather, and their early
potatoe plants have suffered much, and also their late sown wheat. Some curious,
and we hold very useful cautions have lately been promulgated from this quarter,
on the danger to cattle, of the too common and profuse allowance of marigold and
potatoes. It is to be lamented that so few soils are calculated for the productions
of those greatly superior articles, carrots and parsnips, and that generally, the
arable produce is, comparatively with the two articles above mentioned, so small.
Wales, like the other parts of the island, is, as they say, glutted with foreign corn ;
but in probability, neither prematurely, nor overdone. Taxation seems to have
drained and greatly contributed to exhaust the capital of the country, and the
county rates, highway and poor-rates in certain parishes, are reported higher than
at any period during the war.

From Norfolk ana Suffolk, we have the pleasing information that land-draining
has lately been undertaken to a considerable extent. It has this vast advantage,
exclusive of its major consequence, no other improvement makes so speedy a re-
turn. In these great corn counties and in Essex, there is more dibbling of wheat
than elsewhere. A practice doubtless regular and beautiful to behold, hut with the
uncompensated disadvantage of the intervals being too close, ev° ~ ':r<* a twc-inch
hoe; tne consequence is, an utter impossibility of sufficiently clea mg the land.
Price of hoeing in the present season 5s. to 5. 6*, p«r acre.

Smithfield.—Reef, 3s. 6s. to 4s. 8d VeaL . is. lOd. — Mutton, 3s. 8d. to

4s. lOd Pork, 4s. to 5s. 4d.— Dairy-Lamb, 5 6s. 2d.— xlough fat, 2s. 5d.

Corn Exchange. — Wheat, 54s. to 80s. — Bark / J;. to 50s — Oats, 26s. to 33s. —

Bread 41b. London loaf, lO^d Hay, 56s. to 90s. — (Fine Lapland and Ilye-

grass.)— Clover ditto, 90s. to 110s. — Straw, 34s. to 42s.

Coal Exchange Coals, in the Pool, 15s. 6d. to 38s. 6d. per chaldron.

Middlesex, May 20th.

MONTHLY COMMERCIAL REPORT.

SUGAR. — The sugar market is exceedingly heavy ; a reduction of Is. per cwt.
has taken place, brown Jamaica being sold at 46s. 6d. and 49s. ; the sugars
about 50s. are lower in proportion than any other description. There is great
heaviness in the Refined market ; the price of almost every description of ship-
ping goods is lower ; fine grocery goods have been purchased on lower terms ;
there is very little doing in Crushed sugars. Mauritius sold generally Is. per cwt.
lower, the low brown sugar sold in particular at very reduced prices ; good strong
white Havannah at 34s. ; of Brazil, the brown 17s. 6d. to 19s., middle and good
white, 24s. 6d. to 28s. 6d.

COFFE.— The coffee market continues heavy, but there is no further alteration
in prices, except in East India, which has been offered at public sale and private
contract at a small reduction ; Sumatra, 29s. to 31s. ; Mocha mostly taken in at
63s., good old pale Batavia, partly sold 36s. 6d. and 37s. ; the old to good old Su-
matra is Is. to 2s. ; Batavia Is. lower. The British Plantation at former prices.

RUM, BRANDY, HOLLANDS. — The Demerara and St. Kitts Rum sold at 2d. per
gallon lower, 3 and 4 over; Is. 9d. to Is. 7id. very good quality, 5 and 6 over ;
Hollands Is 7^d. to Is. 8d. ; the market is rather heavy and the fall of the prices
confirmed by private contract, a large parcel of proofs and a little over being sold
at Is. 6d. The demand for Brandy has subsided, but there is no parcels offered
at reduced prices ; Geneva is neglected.

HEMP, FLAX, TALLOW. — The Tallow market has lately been very steady in
price, few purchases of any extent being exported. Hemp is rather lower. Flax
supports the late advance.

1830 1831

Stock of Tallow in London 17,754 33,590

Delivery Weekly 1,248 1,857

Bullion per Ox. — Portugal Gold in Coin, £0. Os. Od. — Foreign Gold in Bars,
£3. 17s. 104d.— New Doubloons, £0. 6s. Od.— New Dollars, £0. 4s. 9|d.— Silver in
Bars (standard), £0. 4s. llfd.

1831.]

Commercial Report.

687

Course of Foreign Exchange. — Amsterdam, 12. 2. — Rotterdam, 12. 2 — Antwerp,
12. 2.— Hamburgh, 13. 12.— Paris, 25. 20 — Bordeaux, 25. 53 — Frankfort, 150. 0^.
— Petersburg, 10. 0. — Vienna, 10. 4 — Madrid, 37. OJ. — Cadiz, 37. OJ. — Barcelona,
36. OJ.— Seville, 36. 0^.— Gibraltar, 47. 0^.— Leghorn, 48. 0.— Genoa, 25. 55.—
Venice, 46. 0.— Malta, 46. 0.— Naples, 39. OJ.— Palermo, 119. 0.— Lisbon, 46. 0£ —
Oporto, 46. 0£.— Rio Janeiro, 29. 0.— Bahia, 25. 0.— Dublin, 1. OJ.— Cork, 1. 04.

Premiums on Shares and Canals, and Joint Stock Companies, at the Office of
WOLFE, Brothers, 23, Change Alley, CornhilL— Birmingham CANAL, (J sh.) 2501. —
Coventry, 795/. — Ellesmere and Chester, — L — Grand Junction, 240J — Kennet and
Avon, 25£/ — Leeds and Liverpool, 395/.-Oxford, —/.—Regent's, 16£J.— Trent and
Mersey, (\ sh.) 630/ — Warwick and Birmingham, 250/.— London DOCKS (Stock)
62/.— West India (Stock), 124/. — East London WATER WORKS, 114/.— Grand
Junction, 49£/ — West Middlesex, 68£/. — Alliance British & Foreign INSURANCE,
8^.— Globe, 138/.— Guardian, 25f/.— Hope Life, —/.—Imperial Fire, 95/.- GAS-
LIGHT Westminster Chartered Companv, 54/. — City, 19 \L— British, 3 dis—
Leeds, I95/.

ALPHABETICAL LIST OF BANKRUPTCIES,

Announced from April 23d to May 23d 1831, in the London Gazette.

BANKRUPTCIES SUPERSEDED.

T. Dry, Tottenham-court-road, linen draper.
J. Peacock, Blackfriars'-road, grocer.
J. J. Routledge, New Bond-street, haberdasher.
R. Whitfield, Brixton, American merchant.
T. S. Crow, Tysoe-street, slater.

BANKRUPTCIES.

[This Month 139.]
Solicitors'' Names are in Parentheses.

Allen, W., Arundel-street, cheesemonger. (Os-

baldeston and Co., London-street.
Adams, J., Birmingham, victualler. (Chilton and

Co., Chancery-lane ; Benson, Birmingham.
Bennet, J., Birmingham, corn-dealer. (Norton

and Co., Gray's-inn ; Stubhs, Birmingham.
Beams, W., St. Martin's-lane, vellum-binder.

(Miller, New-inn.
Barlow, T., Manchester, victualler. (Bower,

Chancery-lane ; Browne, Manchester.
Beetles, W., and W. Keen, sen., St. Luke's,

builder. (Chambers, Finsbury square.
Bowker, J., Bolton-le-Moor, victualler. (Tre-

hern, Cornhill.
Beddome, J., Manchester, drysalter. (Hard and

Co., Temple'; Hadtield and Co., Manchester.
Burton, C. F., High Holborn, glass-cutter,

(Fyson and Co., Lothbury.
Bartlett, J., Trowbridge, grocer. (Berkeley,

Lincoln's-inn ; Bush, Trowbridge.
Berthon, B., Kingsland-road-wharf, coal-mer-
chant. (Smith, Great Eastcheap.
Blackall, J., and Filby Miles Belfield, Lang-
bourne-chambers, insurance-brokers. (Holt,

Threadneedle-street.
Bush, T., Beeston, lace-manufacturer. (Knowles,

New-inn ; Hurst, Nottingham.
Browning, H., Cambridge, inn-keeper. (Ri-

chardson and Co,, Bedford-row ; Gunning,

Cambridge.
Brombey, W. C., Sculcoates, wharfinger. (Ros-

ser and Son. Grav's-inn-place ; Haire and Co.,

Hull.
Brown, A. J., Hatton-garden, money-scrivener.

(Biggs, Bedford-row.
Chandler, T., Bristol, coach-maker. (Pool and

Co-, Gray's-inn ; Cornish and Son, Bristol.
Campain, W., Dover-road, linen-draper. (Far-

rar, Godliman-street.
Crossley, J. M., Manchester, upholsterer.

(Evans and Co., Gray's-inn ; Booth and Co.,

Manchester.

Coulthard, W., Brocklebank, cattle-dealer. (Har-
rison, King's-arms-yard ; Stamper, Wigton.

Christie, A., Sheffield, engineer. (Tattershall,
Temple ; Tattershall and Co., Sheffield.

Cockhill, T., Littletoxvn, dyer. (Strangeways
and Co., Barnard's-inn ; Stead and Co., Hali-
fax.

Cock, S. B., Tooley-street. (Hutchinson and Co.,
Crown-court.

Copping, G., Thurston, cordwainer. (Clarke and
Co., Lincoln's-inn-fields ; Beckwith and Co.,
Norwich.

Cullum, G., Judd-street, china-man. (Roberts,
Milman-street.

Clothier, J., Wilmot-street, coal-merchant.
(Hurst, Milk-street.

Crickmore, T., Skinner-street, pewterer. (Ro-
berts, Milman-street.

Debac, P. B. G., Tavistock-square, builder.
(Sharp, Gray's inn-road.

Dove, M., Maidstone, grocer. Dods, Northum-
berland-street.

Davies, R., Little Pulteney-street, broker.
(Youne:, Devonshire-street.

Deane, W. M., Richmond, tea-dealer. (Davison,
Brend-street.

Duncan, W., Gainsborough, cooper. (Bell, Bed-
ford-row ; Cartwright, Bawtry.

Dowker, H., Laysthorpe and Cawton, smith.
(Strangeways and Co., Bernard's-inn ; Blan-
chard and Co., York.

Eames,\V., Knightsbridge, horse-dealer. (Car-
Ion, High-street.

Finney, J., Liverpool, glazier. (Dean, Palsgrave-
place ; Kaye, Liverpool.

Fuller, T. C., Tooley-street, chandler. (Hartley,
New Bridge-street.

Finney, J., Charlotte-street, merchant. (Taylor
Furnival's-inn.

Fuller, J., Swansea, tailor. (White, Lincoln's-
inn ; Bevan and Co., Bristol.

Giles, J. and F., Steward-street, silk-manufac-
turers. (James, Bucklersbury.

Greig, A. M., Crewkerne, wine-merchant. (At-
kins, Nicholas-lane.

Gwilliam, G., Bristol, soap-boiler. (Adlington
and Co., Bedford-row ; King, Bristol.

Garratt, S. and J., Newgate-market, meat-sales-
men. (Turnley, Lombard-street,

Graves, W., Sherborn-lane, printer, and Halifax,
man-milliner. (Orchard, Hatton-garden,

Harden, W., Clapham, shoe-maker. (Piercy and
Co., Southwark.

Hood, J., sen., and J., Jan., Burlington-gar-
dens, tailors. (Stafford, Buckingham-street.

Hooper, T., Haselbury Bryan, baker. (Capes,
Gray's-inn ; Bui-ridge, Sbaftesbury.

G88

List of Bankrupt*.

[JUNE,

Hardy, S., Wished), St. Peter, linen-draper.
(Hemingand Co., Lincoln's-inn ; Metcalfe and
Son, Wisbecli.

Hargreaves, B., Manchester, sadler. (Adlineton
and Co., Bedford-row ; Law and Co., Man-
chester.

Herton, W., Nottingham, grocer. (Tomkin,
Temple ; Watson, Sheffield.

Hast, W., Vine-street, merchant. (Hudson, Old
Jewry.

Harrison, W., Pickering: Marshes, horse-dealer.
(Hicks and Co., Gray's-inn ; Walkers, New
Malton.

Hopkins, J., St. John-street-road, brush-maker.
(Lawledge, Newgate-street.

Hage, H. and J., Newark, printers. (Milne and
Co., Temple ; Lee, Newark-upon-Trent.

Hodgson, E., Thrapston, linen-draper. (Hard-
wick and Co., Lawrence-lane.

Hill, J., Maresneld, miller. (Hall and Co., Ser-
jeant's-inn.

Jones, H., New Sarum, waggon-proprietor. (Gib-
bins, Furnival's-inn ; Coombs, Sarum.

Jones, B., Cornhill, hosier. (Tucker, Basinghall-
street.

Jackson, G. E., Birmingham, dealer in iron.
(Adlington and Co., Bedford-row ; Wills, Bir-
mingham.

Johnson, J., and H. Thomas, Leeds, drapers.
(Dunn, Gray's-inn ; Wilson, Newcastle-upon-
Tyne.

Jackson, J. and W., Strand, stationers, (King,
Lyon's-inn.

Kerby,J., Leicester, and I. R.Kerby, Wood-street,
hosiers. (Toller, Gray's-inn ; Toller, Man-
chester.

King, C., Ipswich, inn-keeper. (Few and Co.,
Henrietta-street ; Pretyman, Ipswich.

Knibb, J., Worcester, bookseller. (Becke, De-
vonshire-street ; France, -Worcester.

King, J., Bath, victualler. (Makinson and Co.,
Temple; Hellings, Bath.

Lees, J., Manchester, baker. (Adlington and
Co., Bedford-row.

Lul<e, J. C., Finsbury -place, shoe-maker. (Kemp-
ster, Kennington-lane.

Lyon.T., Plymouth, jeweller. (Alexander, Ca-
rey-street; Marshall, Plymouth.

Lansdown. T. P., Clutton, victualler. (Hender-
son, Surrey-street ; Goolden, Bristol.

Leyland, H., Ashton, maltster. (Adlington and
Co., Bedford-row ; Massey, Liverpool.

Lowe, J., Chetwynd Aston, maltster. (Heming
and Co., Lincoln's-inn-fields ; Stanley, New-
port.

Lucas, S., and J. Shore, Beer Ferris, refiners.
(Smith, Basinghall-street ; Husband, Devon-
port.

Lyon, J.W., Macclesfield-street, brewer. (Spyer,
Broad-street-huildings.

Lowth, W., Kingston-upon-Hull, dealer in ho-
siery. (Bell, Bedford-row ; Babb, Great
Grimsby.

Moyer, J. F., Poland-street, victualler. (Noel,
Carey-street.

Morton, M., Birmingham, dealer. (Milne and
Co., Temple ; Walmsley, Marple.

Macnin, D. C., Phil pot-lane, merchant. (Holt,
Threadneedle-street.

Marshall, T., Kingston-upon-Hull, merchant.
(Knowles, New-inn ; Lightfoot and Co., Hull.

Moore, W. B., Church-street, builder. (Shuter,
Milbank-street.

Nimmo, J., Upper Gower-street, bookseller. (Jay,
Serjeant's-inn.

Osbor'ne, J., jun., Epperstone, surgeon. (Flower,
Mansfield.

Owen, T., Fore-street, auctioneer. (Bull, Ely-
place.

Pallmer, C. N., Norbiton House, Surrey, ship-
owner. (Haddon, Throgmorton-street.

Parkin, W., sen., and W. Parkin, jun., hard-
waremen. (Smith, Cateaton-street.

Pitcher, W., Farringdon-street, brewer. (Berry,
Furoival's-inn.

Palfreyman, C., Manchester, calico printer.
(Milne and Co., Temple ; Walker and Co.,
Manchester.

Paxton, J., jun., Ironmonger-lane, linen-draper.
(Alexander, Clement's-inn.

Potter, J., Manchester, and W. Maunde, Lancas-
ter, calico-printers. (Hurd and Co., Temple ;
Hadneld and Co., Manchester.

Potter, C. and E., and T. Roberts, Manchester
and Dinting, calico-printers. (Milne and Co.,
Temple ; Kay and Co., Manchester.

Platt, R., Cateaton-street, warehouseman.
(Gates and Co., White-hart-court.

Potter,W,, Liverpool, merchant. (Adlington and
Co., Bedford-row ; Mawdeeley, Liverpool.

Risdon, J., Exeter, bookseller. (Brutton and
Co., New Broad-street; Brutton, Exeter.

Roberts, G., Ansford, inn-keeper. (Burfoot,
Temple ; Russ, Castle Cary.

Rioketts, J. B., Leadenhall-street, merchant.
(Bostock and Co., George-street.

Robinson, T., St. George's in the East, tallow-
chandler (Thompson, George-street.

Read, O. E., Kingston-upon-Hull, draper. (Hurd
and Co., Temple ; Brackenbury, Manchester.

Rickaby, C., Great Suffolk-street, cheesemonger.
(Lechmere, Staple-inn.

Rogers, W., Leamington Priors, victualler.
(Platt and Co., Lincoln's-inn ; Paterson and
Co., Leamington Priors.

Streather, R., Cambridge-heath, builder. (Swain
and Co., Old Jewry.

Stone, S., Austin Friars, broker. (James, Buck-
lersbury.

Sanders, J., Launceston, tallow-chandler. (Cur-
tis, New Bridge-street; Pearce, Launceston.

Shawe, W., Colchester, inn-keeper. (Bignold
and Co., Bridge-street ; Sarjeant and Co., Col-
chester.

Swift, I., Lane End, mercer. (Wilson, Temple ;
Hyatt and Co., Newcastle-under-Lyne.

Smith, W., Liverpool, grocer. (Pope, Finsbury-
square.

Smalley, J., Nottingham, builder. (Hurd and Co.,
Temple; Fernhead and Co., Nottingham.

Sanderson, F., Castle of York, shoe-maker.
(Williamson, Gray's-inn ; Sowerby, Stokersley.

Shepherd, J., Liverpool, stone-mason. (Black-
stock and Co., Temple ; Munder, Liverpool.

Sanssm, J., Southwark, victualler. (Heathcote,
Coleman-street..

Sharpe,R., Budge-row, ironmonger. (Hodgson,
Broad-street-buildings.

Scagell, J., Beckenham, victualler. (Sheppard
and Co., Cloak-lane.

Sansom, P., and T. Rees, Lombard-street, bankers.
(Lovell, Gray's-inn.

Spencer, F., Leeds, druggist. (Hardwick and
Co., Lawrence-lane ; Lee, Leeds.

Simpson, H., Ball-court, tavern-keeper. (Goles,
Lothbury.

Sendall, J., Heigham, distiller. (Tilbury and
Co., Falcon-street ; Durrant, Norwich.

Slater, M. D., Brighton, auctioneer. (Hone,
Lincoln's-inn-fields; Osborn, Brighton.

Topham, B. G., St. Pancras, victualler. (Chars-
ley and Co., Mark-lane.

Tatchill, T., Snow-hill, tavern-keeper. (Aston,
Old Broad-street.

Tittenson, C. W., Little Love-lane, button-seller.
(Young, Warwick-square.

Taylor, R., Bristol, builder. (Poole and Co.,
Gray's-inn ; Cornish and Son, Bristol.

Thompson, J., Catterick-bridge, blacksmith. (Wil-
liamson, Gray's-inn ; Maddison, Richmond.

Turner, M. and W., Reading, hat-manufacturers.
(Randell. Walbrook.

Toms, J., Kensington, grocer. (Pownall, Nicho-
las-lane.

Underwood, G., Fleet-street, bookseller. (Jay,
Serjeant's-inn.

Vickers, J., Saxilby, victualler. (Butterfield,
Gray's-inn ; Quilter, Lincoln.

Waylett, J. N., Lombard-street, shoe-maker.
(Carter and Co., Royal Exchange.

Whytt, R., Bishopsgat'e-street, merchant. (Bor-
radaile and Co., King's-arms-yard.

Williams, E., Hatfield-strcet, jeweller. (Whiteley,
Token -house-yard.

Wardall, H., jun., Old Gravel-lane, colour-man.
(Birch and Co., Great Winchester-street.

1831 . J Bankrupts — Ecclesiastical Preferments — Chronology.

Whitlock, W., Paddington, timber-merchant.

(Reynolds, Tottenham-court-road.
Wythes, J., Stem-bridge, Worcester, grocer.

(Hindmarsh, Jewin-street.
Wakeley, W., Langport, ironmonger. (Adlington

and Co., Bedford-row ; Broadsmead, Longford.
Webster, C., jun.j Manchester, currier. (Ad«

lington and Co., Bedford-row; Law and Co.,

Manchester.
Westnip, W., Melton, miller. (Heming and Co.,

Lincoln's-inn-tields ; Woodbridge, Suffolk.
White, J., Higham, Derby, chandler. (Wragg,

Southwark-bridge-road .

Williams, J., Stepney, victualler. (Vandercom

and Co., Bush-Jane.
Wiswoald, L., Gainsborough, gun-maker. (Bell,

Bedford-row ; Cartwright, Bawtry.
Wiswotild, L., and Duncan, W., Gainsborough,

carriers. (Spike, Temple ; Wells, Gainsbo-
rough.
Wilson, S. and J., and Lilleyman, J., Goldamith-

itreet, silk-men. ( Jones, King's-arms-yard.
Yates, W., Tunstall, inn-keeper. (Smith, Ba-

singhall-street ; Harding, Burslem.
Young, T., Lane End, inn-keeper. (Hawkins and

Co., New Boswcll-court ; Salt, Rugeiey.

ECCLESIASTICAL PREFERMENTS.

Rev. R. Clifton, to the Rectories of
Tomerton, Oxon, and St. Nicholas, Wor-
cester.—Rev. H. B. Owen, to the Rec-
tory of Throcking, Herts.— Rev. H. W.
Neville, to the Rectory of Bergh Aston,

Norfolk, and Otley, Suffolk Rev. R.

Simpson, licensed to the new church
near Derby.— Rev. A. W. Eyre, to the
Vicarage of Hornsea-cum-Riston, York.
— Rev. P. Whittingham, to the Rectory
of Baddingham, Suffolk.— Rev. J. Che-
valier, to the Vicarage of Cransford,
Suffolk.— Rev. J. Jones, to the Rectory
of Llaneber, Montgomeryshire — Rev.
N. Morgan, to the Vicarage of Aston,
Warwick.— Rev. J. B. Atkinson, to the
Rectory of Kingston, Isle of Wight. —
Rev. J. Harris, to be Chaplain to Lord
Winterton — Rev. H. H. Way, to the
Vicarage of Henbury, Gloucester. —
Rev. L. Lewellin, to the Prebendal
Stall and Canonry of Llanarthney, Bre-
con.— Rev. J. Passand, to the Rectory

of Shipton-on-Charwell, Oxon.— Rev.
M. Anderson, to the Rectory of Sher-
rington, Wilts.— Rev. W. H. Dixon, to
be Canon Residentiary in York Cathe-
dral— Rev. J. Jackson, to the Living of
Tullow, Carlow.— Rev. W. Smith, to
the Vicarage of Honingham, with East
Tuddenham, Norfolk.— Rev. T. Bray-
shaw, to the Rectory of Addingham,

York Rev. E. Griffin, to the Vicarage

of Wilbarston, and Rectory of Stoke Al-
bany, Northampton. — Rev. J. Cotting-
ham, to the perpetual Curacy of Shet-
wick, Cheshire Rev. B. Bailey, Colo-
nial Chaplain of Ceylon.— Very Rev.
Dean of Hereford, to the Prebendary
of Pion Parva.— Rev. J. Clutton, jun.,
to the Prebendary of Norton — Rev. J.
Morgan, to the Vicarage of Dilwin. —
Rev. J. Harwood, to the Vicarage of
Wirksworth, Derby.— Rev. T. H. Croft,
to the Prebendary of Stillington, York.

CHRONOLOGY, MARRIAGES, DEATHS, ETC.

CHRONOLOGY.

April 28. General illumination took
place in London, Westminster, South-
wark, and the villages in their environs,
in consequence of the dissolution of par-
liament and the Reform Bill.

30. City of London elected the four
popular candidates, Thomson, Waith-
man, Wood, and Venables, for the new
parliament, for their adherence to Re-
form.

May 12. Sessions began at the Old
Bailey.

17- Duchess of Saxe Weimar, sister
to the queen, arrived in London.

18. News arrived from the British
consul at Lisbon, with the information
that Miguel had submitted to the dicta-
tion of the consul, enforced by six Bri-
tish men-of-war in the mouth of the
Tagus.

— Sessions ended at the Old Bai-
ley, when 21 prisoners received sen-
tence of death, G9 of transportation, and

M.M. New Series.— VOL. XL No. 66.

upwards of 200 to different periods of
imprisonment.

— Recorder made his report to the
king in council of the prisoners capitally
convicted at the April Old Bailey ses-
sions, when two were ordered for execu-
tion.

HOME MARRIAGES.

Leonard Thompson, Esq., to Miss
Mary Wentworth Fitz-William, daugh-
ter of Lord Milton, and grand-daughter
of Earl Fitz-William. — S. Clement,
Esq., to Louisa, daughter of the late W.
Paley, Esq., and grand-daughter of the

late Archdeacon Paley J. Kennaway,

Esq., eldest son of Sir J. Kennaway,
Bart., to Miss Emily Frances Kings-
cote. — F. Hawkins, Esq., to Hester,
third daughter of Baron Vaughan. —
Le Marchant Thomas, Esq., to Mar-
garet, fourth daughter of Baron Vaughan.
— R. King, Esq., to Georgiana Ann,
daughter of the late Hon. Lieut. -Col.
G. Carleton, and sister of Lord Dor-
chester.—G. Hill, Esq., nephew to Sir

4 T

690

Marriages— Deaths— Provincial Occurrences. [JUNE,

G. F. Hill, Bart., governor of St. Vin-
cents, to Miss E. S. Ilea.— Rev. W.
Gibson, to Eliza Maria, third daughter
of Bishop of Chester.— E. R. Brough,
Esq., eldest son of Sir R. Brough, Bart.,
to Lady Elizabeth St. Lawrance, sister
to the Earl of Howth.— Hon. R. Gros-
venor, youngest son of Lord Grosvenor,
to Hon. Charlotte A. Wellesley, daugh-
ter of Lord Cowley.

HOME DEATHS.

Lord and Lady Walsingham, both
burnt to death at their house in Harley-
street, Cavendish-square. — The Duchess
of Wellington. — Earl and Countess of
Winterton.— J. C. Gough, Esq. — Lady
Wetherell.— Mrs. Anna Maria Arden,
93, sister to the late Lord Alvanley—
J. Pattison, Esq., 69, late one of the
Directors of the East India Company —
Lord Clifford — Countess Dowager of
Pembroke, 94. — At Kensington, Dame
Hannah Evans, relict of Sir D. Evans,
late Recorder of Bombay. — Brigadier
General Sir S. Bentham, 76. — Dowager
Lady Smythe, relict of the late Sir E.

Smythe, Bart — W. Hamper, Esq.—
Viscountess Nelson, Duchess of Bronte,
69, widow of the immortal Nelson. —
Sir Joseph York, drowned in Southamp-
ton river. — Vice-Admiral the Right
Hon. Sir W. J. Hope.— W. O. Blount,
Esq., only son of Sir C. B. Blount.—
Selina, wife of T. Macauley, Esq.— At
Chesterfield, Dr. J. Stokes, 72, a contri-
butor to the botanical department of the
Encyclopaedia Londinensis. — Lieut.-Col.
W. Douglas, 77, uncle to the Marquess
of Queensberry.— Sir Jenison W. Gor-
don, Bart., 84.— J. Raine, Esq., 68, M.P.
— Harriett, eldest daughter of Sir C.
Bethell and Hon. Lady Codrington.

MARRIAGES ABROAD.

At the British Embassy,' Paris, Count
de Montebello, son of the late Due
de Montebello, (Marshall Lannes,) to
Mary Teresa, eldest daughter of T.
Boddington, Esq.

DEATHS ABROAD.

At Halle, Augustus La Fontaine, 71,
the celebrated Romance writer.

MONTHLY PROVINCIAL OCCURRENCES.

LINCOLNSHIRE. — The stupen-
dous work of the Sutton Work Embank-
ment is a wonderful public improvement
— perhaps the greatest that has ever
been achieved in England: it at once
places above all risk much life and pro-
perty, and obviates the danger and in-
convenience of the renowned Cross. Keys
sand. May 5, the noon-tide ceased its
flowings for ever, over an area now in-
cluding above 15,000 acres of land. The
cross bank gives also a direct line of
road from Lynn to Boston, and shortens
the distance between the two towns by
more than 15 miles. This immense un-
dertaking has been effected in a space of
time unprecedented in the annals of
embankment ; and the communication
made, in all preceding ages, had been
decided against as utterly impossible to
be attained : such indeed it did appear
in the commencement, to those whose
opinions were required in the parlia-
mentary proceedings connected with the
improvements of the Great Bedford
Level. The bank will be passable for
coaches about the end of July ; it is the
best communication between Norwich
and York, Liverpool, and Manchester;
thus uniting the north and eastern parts
of the kingdom, and saving in distance
full 36 miles.

YORKSHIRE. — The first exhibi-
tion of the Sheffield Horticultural So-
ciety took place 1xr° •"irtr*" attended

by a very numerous and highly respec-
table company. The show of auriculas
and polyanthuses was of the most splen-
did description, while the collection of
hyacinths, herbaceous plants, cut flowers,
&.c., was such as afforded general satis-
faction. The display of stove and green
house plants and fruits was very exten-
sive, and afforded a rich treat to the
lovers of horticulture. Keen's seedling
strawberries attracted especial notice,
perhaps the finest ever seen in this
country ; one pot contained sixty-three
ripe strawberries, some of them measur-
ing near six inches in circumference.
These were sent by Mr. Paxton, from
the splendid gardens of his grace the
Duke of Devonshire.

DERBYSHIRE.— By the abstract
of the income and expenditure of this
county, published by the chairman, the
sum of £19,863. 11s. 3d. was expended
from Easter Sessions, 1830, to Easter
Sessions, 1831. — £3,688. 3s. 4d. were
for bridges ; almost the whole of the re-
mainder was swallowed up by the gaols
and other contingencies of the county
jurisprudence, and the law.

May 2. The new road presented to the
town of Walsall; by the Earl of Brad-
ford, at a cost of jat least two thousand
pounds, was opened for the first time,
thus affording to the public a pleasant
communication through Wednesbury
and Wtfslbrounvich to Birmingham.

• •»C,^5CLifil I £Z.Ljl

« o nrir* in An

INDEX

TO

VOL. XI.

ORIGINAL PAPERS, &c.

Page

A MOOBE-ISH Melody 16

A Glance at Tetuan 31

Agricultural Reports 110, 232, 345, 466, 575, 684

Anecdotes of Brazil 129

Aphorisms on Man, by Wm. Hazlitt 365, 485,652

All Fools' Day 430

A Legend of the Old Time in London 284

America, First of April Ode to 367

Bankrupts 114, 234, 347, 468, 5,77, 667

Brougham's (Lord) Local Courts 45

Byron's Memoirs ., 145

Book-worm, Perplexities of a 391

Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Persons 108, 230, 464, 574, 689

Brazil, Anecdotes of , 129

Croix, St., a Tale of the Days of Terror 35

Colonies, Mismanagement of the 60

Commercial Reports 113, 233, 347, 468, 577,686

Chronology, Marriages, Deaths, &c 116, 236, 349, 470, 580, 691

Carmen di Sepolcri 136

Coal Duty and Coal Trickery.. 263

Crotchet Castle 400

Consumption, St. John Long on 426

Confessions of a Coward 385

Defoe, his Life and Writings 17

Desolate, the 179

Dublin Saints 305

Dramatic Copyright 311

Dissolution of Parliament 473

Diary, My Uncle's 516

Epitaph of 1830 64

Ecclesiastical Preferments 115, 235, 349,470,574,690

Europe at the Commencement of 1831 121

Evil Consequences of Sectarian Influence in Colonial Affairs 180

Europe and the British Parliament 243

Europe, the State of 586

Fine Arts' Publications 101, 226, 341,460, 571, 680

Financial Reform, Sir H. Parnell on 292

First of April Ode 367

Father Murphy's Sermon on the Elections of Ireland •. 627

Glance at Tetuan 31

Ghost of Kilsheelan e 639

High-ways and By-ways, Spanish 269, 601

Hanse Towns 504

Hazlitt's Aphorisms on Man 365, 485, 652

Letter-Bell 280

Jordan, Mrs., and her Biographer , , 52

INDEX.

Page

Ireland, Father Murphy's Sermon on 627

Last Words of a Moth 59

Lonely Man of the Ocean 137

Learning and Love 390

Londonderry Mystery 488

Love and Novelism «. 635

Merlin's Prophecies for 1831 1

Moore-ish Melody 16

Moth, last Words of a 59

Mismanagement of the Colonies 60

Machinery 187

March Night-Thoughts of Gog and Magog 241

Merchant's Clerk 284

Matron Pensioner, Ode to 303

Mechanism and its Marvels 481

Major and Minor Theatres •. 483

Monthly Review of Literature 89, 217, 329, 449, 561, 669

My Uncle's Diary 516

My New Lodgings „ 621

Notes of the Month, on Affairs in General 65, 195, 318, 431, 554, 653

Newspaper Office 169

Ocean, Lonely Man of the 137

Ode to a Matron Pensioner 303

to America 367

On Shakspeare's Epithets 647

Patents for Mechanical and Chemical Inventions 229, 345, 463, 573, 683

Poland, Past and Present 4

Provincial Occurrences ; 117, 237,350, 471,582, 692

Power and Prospects of the Country 159

Past, Spirit of the 194

Personal and Political Portrait of Prince Metternich 298

Population Question: Mr. Sadler and the Political Economists 526

Parliamentary Reform 353

Parliament, Dissolution of. 473

Pall Mall Poetry 615

Review of Literature, Monthly 89,217, 329, 449,561,669

Reform, Parliamentary 353

St. Croix, a Tale of the Days of Terror 35

Society, Present State of ,. 159

Spanish High- ways and By-ways 269, 601

Sir Henry Parnell on Reform 292

Ships, Colonies, and Commerce 410

St. John Long on Consumption 426

Sadler and the Political Economists 526

Silent Sister, the 596

Shakspeare's Epithets, the Beauty of 647

To a Spirit of the Past 199

Tetuan, a Glance at 31

To a Lady, reading 128

The Tiger's Cave 256

The Tabernacle 407

Theatrical Affairs, at Home and Abroad 311

Theatres, Major and Minor 483

Voice of the Beautiful 399

Writings, Defoe's Life and 17

Works in the Press, and New Publications 104, 227, 343, 461, 571, 680

Wife of the Polish Patriot 369

White Spectre of Malinanza 489

INDEX TO WORKS REVIEWED.

Page

ATHERSTONE'S Sea Kings 94

A Year in Spain 451

Aithur of Britanny 457

An Only Son 460

Allan McDougal 332

Abercrombie's Inquiries concerning In-
tellectual Powers 333

Barrow's Divines of the Church of

England 99

Basil Barrington and his Friends 218

Becker's German Grammar 458

Bell's Summer and Winter Hours . . 669

Bulwer's Siamese Twins 569

Constable's Miscellany 98, 225, 565

Classical Library 100, 680

Cabinet Library 224, 337, 456, 680

Cabinet Cyclopaedia 225, 567, 679

Cunningham's British Architects .... 454

Cuvier's Animal Kingdom 456

Campbell's (R. C.), Lays from the

East 458

Dawson's Present State of Australia. . 93

Dibdin's Sunday Library 223, 679

Doyle's Hints to the Peasantry of Ire-
land 567

Destiny, or the Chief's Daughter 674

Edinburgh Cabinet Library 99

Encyclopaedia Britannica 453

Emerson's History of Modern Greece 329
Elmes's Topographical Dictionary of

London 332

Epitome of English Literature .. 567, 679

Family Library 99, 457, 679

Fraser's Persian Adventurer 337

Godwin's Thoughts on Man 563

Hazlitt's Conversations of Northcote. . 97

Hamilton's Progress of Society 95

Head's Life of Bruce 96

Hay's Narrative of the Peninsular War 217

Heideger's Didoniad 459

Howitt's Book of the Seasons 564

Haigh's Sketches of Buenos Ayres . . 570

Page
Hall's (Mrs. S. C.) Sketches of Irish

Character ib.

Hall's (Capt. Basil) Fragments of

Voyages and Travels 673

Irving's Voyages of the Companions

of Columbus 571

Jones's Distribution of Wealth 677

Kennedy's Arrow and the Rose .... 92
Keightley's, War of Independence in

Greece 97

Landor's Poems 671

Lucius Carey 564

Logan's Scottish Gael 673

La Trobe's Music of the Church . . , . 675
Munday's Life and Correspondence of

Rodney 89

Millingen's War in Greece 219

Mitford's Stories of American_Life . . 222

Mitford's American Tales 338

Muller's History of the Doric Race . . 339

Modern Fanaticism Unveiled 566

Moore's (D.) Bridal Night 669

Northcote's Life of Titian 90

Napier's History of the Peninsular

War 455

Nicholl's Illustrations of the Literary
History of the Eighteenth Century 564

Old Man of the Mountain 672

Parke's Musical Memoirs 91

Pinkerton's Literary Correspondence 218
Picken's Travels and Researches of

English Missionaries 221

Proposal for the Establishment of Vil-
lage Schools 452

Parsey's Art of Miniature Painting . . 338
Payne's Exposition of Jacotot's Sys-
tem 678

Ritchie's Romance of History 225

Rose's Marchmont Papers 449

Recollections of a Seven Year's Resi-
dence in the Mauritius 453

Reynolds' Dramatic Annual 566

INDEX.

Page

Shipp's Military Bijou 220

Stebbing's Lives of the Italian Poets 331

Scott's Tales of a Grandfather 339

Scott's (Rev. J.) History of the Church

of Christ 670

St. John's Anatomy of Society .... 561

Standard Novels 566, 679

Sealer's Mattaire on Greek Dialects... 567
Sotheby's Translation of the Iliad .... 568

Thomas's Serious Poems 101

The Vizier's Son 223

The Gentleman in Black 224

The Tuileries . . .450

Pa^e

The Extraordinary Black Book 451

Trueba's Incognito, or Sins and Pecca-
dillos 329

Trant's Narrative of a Journey through

Greece 334

The Domestic Gardener's Manual . . ib.
Taylor's History of German Poetry . . 335

The Temple of Melekartha 336

The King's Secret 562

Waverley Novels 225, 456

Wood's Treatise on Rail Roads 676

Wedded Life in the Upper Ranks . . 678

EMINENT AND REMARKABLE PERSONS,

Whose Deaths are recorded in this Volume.

The Duke of Athol,
110
John Abernethy,

Esq., 575

Lord Blantyre, 110
Sir Edward Beiry,

Bart., 575

M. Benjamin Con-
stant, 577

The Prince deConde,
231

The Earl of Darn-
ley, 634

Wm. Hamper, Esq.,
F.R.S. 683

Thomas Hope, Esq.,

4t>4

Henry Mackenzie,

Esq., 230

Admiral Sir John

Nicholls, 111

Admiral Sir C. M.

Pole, 109

Comte Sainte Su-
zanne, 578
Comte de Segur, 465
Lady Thurlow 109
General Vandamme,
108

PRESENTED

£ a DEC, 1943