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? No. xxv a
Ee Ose ‘THE ANALYST ; «
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|. “SCIENCE, LITERATURE,

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’ CONTENTS.

PAGE
OssERVATIONS on the Origin and Progress of English Liberty ...6....:.cccssesssesseeseeseeeee BS
Rambles in Western Switzerland and the Jura.—Chapters I. and IL. ...........ceecceeceeaee 25
Desultory. Sketches in Natural History.—No. I. The Hyzna Group. By Epwarp
MALLE Ey Belle snes savse>okses thes hase ddgu enki Paghegepe f Meecde Peony ks concen cgeus tens a dctdgewves hdaaeee 43
he Maonk 3 a Story OF the Aline. 2530 5 cirene aspera ev ce adage vals oc ghuies <ates cananeeeboatan bees 75

An Essay on the Expediency and Means of Elevating the Profession of the Educator in
the Estimation of the Public—Part I. “The Expediency.” Chapters I., IT., III.

FV Rind Ve Th ahs Re ter ee ee RI cca es au ade. 103
he Musician about" Lown! 24, secspaaat: bass pe aedas dpatss rater tsven | dike lesurcascas;Sedvedh an vecusves 129
An Historical Sketch of French Literature.—IV. On the Love Songs of the Trouba-

COURS 5. ccc evvinncacaetwnsaoasPuad vacates teseiny.ccsecinc es sakenteneyiuabn is eos eee aea vee aE Peds chines ov s~ 144
Critical Notices of New Publications.—Sir John Maundeville’s “ Voiage and Travailes.” 151
Review of Foreign Works lately Published on the Continent .................4... iki dieo aes 170
Outlines of Periodical Literature.............ccccccececeesgeveceuscceceees TERE Ce ee ee ee 175

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THE ANALYST.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS
OF ENGLISH LIBERTY.

“ A mighty pomp, though made of little things.”--DryDEn.

THERE was a time when the English mode of government was
spoken of as a model for a republic; and the liberty and prosperity
which distinguished that people were attributed solely to that spirit
of wisdom which pervaded the laws and statutes of their constitution.
This period passed away, and was succeeded by another tone of opi-
nion, which found, or affected to find, in the constitution,. defects of
such a grave character as to generate a suspicion of the importance
of that liberty which could not stand the test of impartial investiga-
tion. Thus unbounded admiration was succeeded by extravagant
deprecation. Many of its most graceful features had, in consequence
of the new scrutiny to which it had been subjected, been overlooked
in the grand volume of the constitution; and the examiners appear
- not to have been aware that those defects which they supposed they
had-discovered, might possibly be more the effect of their own false
position and incorrect point of view, than truly pertaining .to the
system before them.

It may appear strange, yet it is nevertheless a fact, that the people
of England were not aware of the excellence and value of their con-
stitution, until it was pointed out to them by a foreigner. It is true
that they always spoke of the authors of that imperishable work with
the utmost respect and veneration ; yet it appears that their praises
were bestowed in the inverse ratio to the superficiality of their ac-
quaintance with the principles contained therein. There was, how-
ever, a lustre and nobility of feeling which dictated this praise: it
was the soul, the spirit of patriotism, which, presupposing the perfec-

VOL. X., NO. XXVIII, 1

2 ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

tion of its code, drew their attention away from a critical examination
of its merits. Thus it was reserved for that foreigner to unfold
before the world the singular merits and benefits of the English
Constitution ; and so skilfully has he performed his task, as to attract
the gaze of the whole of Europe to that wonderful specimen of legis-
lation. The appearance of De Lolme’s book created a great sensa-
tion throughout Europe (with the exception of the English, who
scarcely noticed it); and the best spirits of the age were at once
awakened and stimulated to a higher order of investigation and en-
quiry on that topic.

Impartial and critical examination generally leads to the discovery
of defect. Thus it was with that constitution in question, the admi-
ration of which was greatly qualified by the cool analysis and discus-
sion of its merits occasioned by the appearance of De Lolme’s works.
But the source from whence arose that light which most effectually
broke up the ancient spell which encircled the English code, was the
questions arising out of the American war. The most experienced
and talented statesmen of the age concurred in lamenting the adop-
tion of those measures which the ministry of that day pursued against
America, and which tended to involve the constitution in a mist of
ambiguity and uncertainty with regard to public right. The essen-
tial conditions, also, which were about that time introduced into the
common law—such as the endowment of the judges with a broader
degree of independence ; by abolishing the use of general warrants
during the legal proceedings against Wilkes; and the tampering
with the natural duties of jurymen, which took place under the minis-
try of Fox, with regard to their verdicts—plainly shewed that the
constitution was many a wide degree from perfection. ‘The true cha-
racter of the English Constitution was not misunderstood by the
transatlantic Englishmen ; on the contrary, experience had placed in
bold relief full before their eyes its many defective points, and its
harsh outline of ancient Norman manners and customs. The Ame-
ricans, then, with such a picture before them, and stimulated by an
ardent spirit of liberty, found not much difficulty in framing a consti-
tution more in accordance with the principles of general freedom than
the one existing in the mother country.

Strictly logical maxims, and profound theories laid down in politics,
it is well known, fall far short of their mark in application to practi-
cal life ; and well they may: for what human power, however exten-
sive and far-seeing, can contrive so perfect a range of policy as to
fall in and blend with the numerous chances, accidents, and circum-

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. 3

stances, which are ever arising ; and the annoyance and frustration
of the deeply-concocted schemes of the wise theorists? At no pe-
riod of the history of civilization was the truth of this so evident, as
at the time when the Constituent Assembly of France attempted the
propagation of the American principles of liberty in their country.
A great number of talented and influential men at the head of the go-
vernment seemed resolved upon improving the liberal statutes of their
neighbours ; and thus to make up, by precipitate reform and inno-
vation, what they lost in time. The fruit of their zeal was a series of
the most profound and brilliant enquiries respecting the conditions of
national liberty ; and the proposed constitution which they had built
up from those acute logical researches was, in point of theory, a
closer approximation to perfection than even the far-famed English
Constitution itself. And although it was stifled at its birth by subse-
quent revolutionary agitations, which even threatened to overthrow
the English Constitution, it will ever remain in history a lasting mo-
nument of human sagacity and profound political philosophy. The
English Constitution, like the gnarled yet majestic oak, braving at
various periods many political storms, has stood its ground, and
maintained its stately position, for more than six centuries ; while the
new French code, raised, as it were, by a sudden stroke of magic, in
all the gorgeousness of modern splendour, was from the commence-
ment at the mercy of a suddenly emancipated and whimsical multi-
tude, who destroyed it before they knew what had fallen beneath
their sacrilegious hands. It is a fact that when Louis XVIII. intro-
duced at last a constitutional government into France formed from
the model of the English, it was not that constitution, nor its statutes
of liberty, which took the attention of surrounding countries and of
Europe, but the sound oratory and eloquence which flowed from the
French rostrum.

In England, they seem to be in possession of liberty without trou-
bling themselves with the why or the wherefore, or in the least med-
dling with motives and principles. In France, the favourite employ-
ment of the politician is to reiterate elementary principles; in Eng-
land, they discuss practical points. In France, the orator and jour-
nalist throw off brilliant sentences on the principles of kberty and the
organization of society, which deservedly places them, in ate of
philosophical oratory, far above the English.

All inventions in the arts, sciences, mechanics, and industry, are,
originally, confined to those requirements concerning which the peo-
ple of that particular age have become anxious and unanimous. Per-

4 ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

fection and refinement are only the effects of observation, and reflec-
tion on the moving principles, and, lastly, on the examination of the
due correspondence between cause and effect, with regard to the prac-
tical application of those inventions. When we have arrived at that
point of perfection which, bearing the stamp of sound theory, and, at
the same time, answering all the purposes of practical application, we
are as apt to neglect the repetition of the elementary principles, just
as we were, a little before, but ill-disposed to recapitulate the rough
mechanical effects in the early state of the invention. Bacon very
happily characterises that progressive state of human development.
The first steps toward advance in civilization, which constitutes the
deduction, derived from pure experience, are thus styled by him,
axiomata infima: they are the points of direction, arising rather from
physical than mental activity, and constitute the first conditions of the
organization of society, and are more or less in possession of the most
savage people. The step which lies in the extreme opposite to the
former is, the indulgence in theories and philosophical researches into
abstract principles, apart from the beaten tract of practice. This course
is generally and zealously adopted by those nations who, having ad-
vanced considerably on the high path of civilization, and not imme-
diately encumbered with difficulties, are not pressed by necessity, or
stimulated by a power of a more practical turn. Such theorists, ‘hav-
ing so little of practical ballast (if we may be permitted the expres-
sion) in their composition, soar away from the earth into the clouds
of metaphysical obscurity, scarcely short of utter unintelligibility ;
yet we must do them justice, and admit that their. abstract exertions
are doubtless manifestations of noble and reflecting minds, although
their efforts are hardly productive or useful for. practical life itself.
Suprema et generalissima rationalia sunt et abstracta et nil-habent
solidi. It is only those axioms which unite theory with practice, like
vitality with matter, that lead on directly to consummation in the 'va-
rious branches of human knowledge and practical life: they are the
axtomata media, vera et solida et viva, in quibus humane res et
fortune site sunt.

«All this is understood by itself with us,” observed Sir J. Mack-
intosh to Mons. de Stael, in reply to the admiration which the latter
expressed at a very philosophical essay which had just then appeared
at Paris, on the principles of constitutional liberty. A similar ‘an-
swer might have been uppermost in the mind of Napoleon, although,
perhaps, he might not have deemed it prudent to utter the same, In
reply to the eulogy bestowed by the writers of the day on the merits

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. 5

of the consular constitution, which they placed far above those of the
English, “ You might do better with less theoretical merits and more
practical liberty, of which you do not possess the tenth part of the
_ English,” he might have thought, on reading the panegyrics.

In 1789 the French rejected the constitution which was offered to
them by Louis XVI on the 23rd of June, because they considered its
provisions defective ; yet twenty-five years afterwards they accepted,
with gratitude, one, in many essential points, still more faulty. Ever
restless and theorizing, the French began, in 1814, a new apprentice-
ship of political speculation, under the difficulties of a triple load of
taxation, compared with that of the year 1789. No administration
was afterwards more suitable to their actual wants and national neces-
sities than that of Richlieu, Decayes, and Martignac, who, with firm-
ness sufficient to maintain their ground, or at least to prevent them
from receding, were yet not bold enough to strike out any decided
line of advance. Yet they were dismissed in favour of declared ‘oppo-
nents to national liberty, for no other reason but that they did not act
up toe general and theoretical principles which, however perfect in
themselves, were not calculated to work in harmony with ‘the circum-
stances and spirit of the age. Again, in 1828, so deeply the airy
notions of theory had eaten into their minds, that when one ‘of the
most important, secure, and unequivocal guarantees of national liberty
was offered to them, in the introduction of the municipal laws, it was
rejected with disdain because it was not more complete.

Nor were the English at all times free from this, perhaps, natural
predilection for ‘political abstract theory. Their political writers of
the seventeenth century exercised it, as the French do now their in-
tellectual capacities, in investigating and establishing subtle and ‘pro-
found philosophical principles, wholly regardless of their consistency
with practical application ; and they escaped the fatal consequences of
losing the substance by catching at the shadow, only by the simple
harmlessness of Richard Cromwell, the thoughtlessness of Charles
IT, and the impetuous temper of James, his brother.

Ultimately, however, this speculative spirit subsided, and was ‘suc-
ceeded by a more sober tone, the growth of a more ‘practical habit of
reflection and experience. Men gradually became aware that theory
and practice were two distinct terms, and they gently relaxed their
addiction to the former in favour of the latter ; while, satisfying them-
selves with a more homely and useful course of study, and surrender-
ing their ideal notions of perfection, they disdained not to take advan-
tage of the immediate state of affairs by which they were surrounded,

6 ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

and, applying their wisdom to the reform, the change, or amendment
of their constitution, took as their guide the circumstances and the
wants of the age, in the midst of which it was their destiny to live.
No Englishman who is at all acquainted with the history and consti-.
tution of his country will ever believe that the far-famed English
liberty forms a part of his undoubted birthright; nor will he be so
blind as to consider it as a patrimony descended to him, in its present
form, through a long series of generations. No: on the contrary,
those who can bestow a cool and scrutinizing attention to the merits
and the rise and progress of their noble constitution, will not fail to
perceive that, like the massive rock, its base, its heart, and summit,
were not framed by one sudden stroke of creative power, but that its
majestic growth had been nourished and consolidated, by the action
of generally imperceptible influences, throughout the course of many
centuries. The origin and guarantee, then, of English liberty, must
be sought in general circumstances rather than the wisdom of legis-
latures ; and it must, also, be apparent that the forms and provisions
of the constitution are more to be considered the effect than the cause
of that liberty. Indeed, we meet with frequent instances which evi-
dently show that the spirit of liberty never failed to enlist under her
pure-white banner the existing forms and laws of society, sometimes
combatting with their aid, and not infrequently in despite of them.

The enthusiastic industry with which many political historians have
searched, since Montesquieu, not only for the germs, but even for the
fruit and forms of liberty in the forests of Germany, has some resem-
blance to that school of authors of the later period of the Roman
Empire, who, ever since Plutarch, have vented their angry feelings
against the order of things in which they lived by extolling the merits
and the glory of the little republics of Greece. Their speculations
might have proved harmless if they had not now and then over-
stepped the confines of school learning and theories, and attempted to
apply them to immediate and practical life, after the manner of Her-
ault-Secheller, who entered into a disquisition of the laws of Crete
when the question was of those of his own country.

It appears that the Saxon, like all the other Germanic tribes at
the time of the emigrating of nations, possessed among them, as re-
gards their social life, those aziomata infima, the first rude rules of
experience, which the wants and pressure of necessity never fail to
force upon a people in the earlier and crude period of their congrega-
tion. Moreover, they doubtless possessed also many regulations sus-
ceptible of improvement and refinement. But their constitution

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. 7

formed not the guarantees of general and national, but of individual
liberty ; the liberty of the owners and proprietors of land and manor,
to the injury of those who could not boast of such possessions, and
who were, in their inferior state of bondage and servitude, scarcely a
grade differing from that of real slaves. It is probable that the states.
right of the Saxons was more congenial with the spirit of the people
of that day than we suspect, and it may have worked well within its
limited sphere; but it was by no means calculated for a more ex-
tended range of society, or capable of sustaining more noble purposes.
How little value the Saxons themselves set even on those statutes
which were capable of improvement and application to a wider fabric
of society, is clearly evident from the facility and willingness with
which they exchanged them for more despotic ones: a circumstance
which can be explained only by the casualty to which those regula-
tions owed their existence, and in which the moral conviction of their
validity was far from participating. Their elective offices were easily
converted into hereditary rights ; and the previous equality of the
landholders gave way by a series of services, as required from them
by the feudal system, to foreign as well as private privileges. The
Anglo-Saxon chiefs who came over to England at the head of their
own retinue, had, it would appear, as the victorious lords of the con-
quered aborigines, but little cause to trouble themselves with the
introduction of new laws into the subdued provinces other than those
of their own country, so favourable to their individual personal
rights. Historians and antiquarians have long disputed about the na-
ture and spirit of the constitution which the Anglo-Saxons introduced
into the new countries founded by them. All parties seem to build
their surmises on the strange supposition that slavery, originating in
an early stage of civilization, ought not to yield to the civilization of
succeeding ages; or that liberty cannot be constituted a right, if its
historical origin cannot be proved. It is evident, from the least dis-
puted facts in history—such, for instance, as the vast power which
the landholders possessed over their servants, bondsmen, and the few
inhabitants of towns, the total absence of a middle class in society, the
little respect that was paid to existing laws, and, finally, the incessant
commotions and agitations which divided and distracted the provinces
—it is evident, we say, when all the circumstances are distinctly con-
sidered, that the Anglo-Saxon constitution was either originally of an
oligarchical character, or had at least, in the course of time, degene-
rated into one.

The Anglo-Saxon liberty, if any such ever existed, might have

a... ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

resembled, in some measure, the so-called German liberty of later
ages, which was the privilege merely of a few individuals of high
rank and large possessions, during the session of the Diet, of which
they were members. That the civil rights of Englishmen are en-
tirely different from similar baronial privileges, and, moreover, are not
even connected with the latter, or even of Anglo-Saxon origin, may
be inferred, and with some degree of certainty, from the course of
_ the march of that people through the British Islands. It is known
that the military colonization of the Anglo-Saxons had extended so
far as the foot of the Scottish Highlands; whilst the Normans car-
ried their conquests no farther than the limits of the present Eng-
land. Supposing, then, that the traditions of British liberty had their
origin in the Anglo-Saxon policy, it is reasonable to expect that we
might find them in the most unfalsified form in the Lowlands of Scot-
land, where the descendants of the Anglo-Saxons, although sur.
rounded by numerous populations of Danes, still preserved their race
independent and unmixed, compared with those of the other pro-
vinces, and where the present native language had been early and
generally cultivated and perfected.* Yet what is the fact? Why,
that those faint traces of early liberty which occasionally appear to
the historical investigator, are found, not in that country, as might
have been expected from the above mode of reasoning, but, on the
contrary, in those districts where Britons, Anglo-Saxons, Danes, and
Normans, were most closely cast together, and their habits and cus-
toms mixed and amalgamated by intimate intercourse. The truth is,
in no other country was the feudal system more severely and rigidly
in action against the people and their kings, than in Scotland. In
no country were the parliament, the jury, and the judges, in so loose —
and precarious a condition, and less guided by established laws and
provisions, than in Scotland. Traces of those defects are still found
in the constitution of the Scottish courts of justice and of juries.
Indeed, there is but one opinion among the best informed men in
Scotland; namely, that all the truly beneficial principles and provi-
' sions of liberty were not imported into England from Scotland, but,
on the contrary, from the former into the latter country.

Be this as it may, thus much is certain, that all traces of early li-
berty in England, if any such ever did exist, must have vanished on
the appearance of the first. Norman princes; for we find in those times

* Sir W. Scott, in his introduction to “Sir Tristram,” a national romance
of the thirteenth century.

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. 9g

that the mandate of the king, countersigned by his council, was con-
sidered as positive law.* Should, however, there really be a period
-when the first germs of British liberty could be historically substanti-
ated, doubtless, it would be that of the feudal system, as introduced by
the Norman conquest, which was followed up with more severity, and
on a more extensive scale, than in any other country of Europe; which
‘subjected to the immediate royal authority indiscriminately, ‘more or
less, all classes of society, the most humble not excepted, by which—
as is still evident from the expressions and forms of English jurispru-
dence and its penal code~—vassalage and submission were placed in
one and the same category: and which united, under the focus of roy-
al supremacy, all the classes of society which were hitherto divided
in an infinite number of inimical and contending parties, and thus se-
curing the individual right by the protection of the whole mass.

In English history we meet with sumerous instances of regulations
and laws which may be traced from that period, bearing, in fact, a
striking resemblance to those provisions which served afterwards as
the basis of the English constitution : yet we may search in vain, even
for several centuries after the Norman conquest, for traces of any-
thing like a system or plan in those laws, which owe, in reality,
their existence merely to chance and accident, rather than to the wis-
dom and sagacity of their authors, who, it is more than probable, were
not at all aware of the merits and importance of their random, and of-
ten thoughtless enactments, Whether it be advisable, in point of edu-
cation, that children should commit to memory words at an early
stage of infancy, when their understanding is, as yet, not sufficiently
developed to catch the true signification, is a question which, perhaps,
is out of order here; yet it is true that nations are educated on that
same plan. History tells us that all of them have learned the most
important truths first by heart, and afterwards only by the palpable
import of their sense and spirit, With all infant nations the word
preceded the thought, and the form the solution of the problem; and
it is only with the aid of this observation that we are enabled to ac-
count for many contradictory points in the early history and institu-
tions of nations.

A remarkable instance of such contradictions is evident from the .
history of England, at a period when other nations were in a deep le-
thargy as regards civilization. So dull and stagnated were the moral
and political conditions of the people of surrounding countries, that

* Sir Henry Spelman, “In verbo: judicium Dei.”
VOL. X., NO. XXVIII. 2.

10 ° ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

their contemporary history presents to the student but a lifeless and
uninteresting blank : and future historians will be obliged to have re-
course to the annals of England, as was formerly the case with ancient
Greece and Rome, as a guide to the delineation of European history
during that long and dark period.

“It is ridiculous,” says Hume, in his Autobiography, “to acknow-
ledge a regular law of liberty in the English Constitution previous to
the times of the Stuarts.” This great historical work is, in fact, on-
ly a development of that notion: yet Brodie and others seem to have
mistaken him; for when he asserts a fact, namely, that the arbitrary
and despotic acts which so enraged the English people of that period
had nothing novel or peculiar in their character, but that they were
merely a repetition and continuation of those arbitrary and certainly
criminal practices which had been perpetrated, during the course of
many centuries, by preceding English monarchs, those writers ac-
tually charge him with partiality in favour of the house of Stuart.
Hume never intended to intimate that there was no such thing as fix-
ed laws with regard to national liberty ; for the very laws mentioned
in the petition of right in 1627 were more than sufficient to belie
such an assertion: all he meant was, that no respect was paid to those
laws by the princes, and certainly in this he only stated the melan-
choly truth. The monarchs never suffered the Magna Charta to
stand in the way of their propensities ; on the contrary, they hesitated
not to follow their inclinations in the very teeth of, and open violation
of, its provisions. If they occasionally acknowledged the national
right, it was more the consequence of the pressure of necessity than
of any thing like a moral respect for national institutions. Neither
the Plantagenets, nor the Tudors, nor the Stuarts, ever dreamed of any
thing like submission to national law, or of checking their arbitrary
and illegal acts, until compelled by opposition and national remon-
strance. More than two centuries elapsed before the petition of rights
was followed by the di// of rights. A single glance at the constitution,
and the history and connexion of its component parts with one an-
other, as well as with the general object, will convince us that their
rise and progress originated in accident.

Civil right, though it is generally ranked, because a private right,
far below that of the political or public right, forms, nevertheless, such
an essential foundation and condition of the benefits to be derived from
the latter, that it cannot but occupy the first rank in that point of view.
The common law of the Anglo-Saxons, like all the Germanic tribes,
was nothing more than a right of customs, arraigning every accused

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. ll

individual before the bar of a certain number of peers, that is, of men
of his own condition, occupying the same rank as himself in society.
The promulgation of the feudal system changed that state of affairs
only in so far as to convert the right of the people into that of the
court; and while it was formerly required that the judges should share
with the accused an equality in social rank and condition, it was now
requisite that that quality should chiefly refer to the conditions of that
species of service which they were called on to perform for the benefit
of the crown. But the chief and essential changes which the law in
itself underwent, were mainly attributable to the reforms which took
place among the mass of the people, generating in external circum-
stances and the spirit of the age, and particularly through the exer-
tions of the ecclesiastics, partly by alienating those customs which
were originally simple and intelligible to all the members of society
at large, fromthe common comprehension of the people, by investing
them with a sort of scientific mist and accompanying jargon, and sub-
jecting them to asort of systematic study far beyond the understand-
ing of the populace, who henceforth scarcely knew the meaning of the
new forms and terms which had been introduced; and partly, and
chiefly, by actually suppressing those popular customs in favour of
the more scientific Roman law, the revival of which suited better the
tastes and interests of those dignitaries.

Until the Norman conquest, the duties of judges and lawyers had
devolved upon the Saxon monks, who studied and taught in the clois-
ters. At this period the foreign ambassadors introduced among their
retinue the first civilians into England. Thobald, Archbishop of Can-
terbury, imported several of this order, and among them Roger Va-
carioces, the first teacher of the Roman law at Oxford. The laymen
here, as in other parts of England, protested at first against the new
law, and King Stephen, who was anxious to reconcile the people to his
usurpation of the crown by conciliatory measures, interdicted the Ro-
man law. At the assembly at Merton, where the clergy moved the
sanction of the Roman law by which illegitimate children may become
legitimate after the marriage of their parents, the barons declared pos-
itively that the customary laws of the country should not be in the least
infringed or changed; and a hundred years afterwards the parlia-
ment manifested the same spirit, and repeated the same bold declara-
tion, adding that ‘‘ England shall never be ruled by foreign laws.”
In this instance the clergy might, as in most others, have prevailed,
but for their own imprudence. In this affair, their wonted patience
and perseverance forsook them; believing themselves to be entirely indis-

12 ON FHE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

pensable in the administration of judicial affairs, they imprudently took
offence at the opposition which had been made to their measure, and
withdrew in ill humour from the field of controversy, thus, leaving to
the laymen full scope and leisure to follow up their advantage. Thus,
turning their backs in spite on their opponents, they lost their judicial
position, which they never after recovered. Under the reign of Hen-
ry III, episcopal mandates were issued, which interdicted the clergy
from occupying themselves in future with secular lawsuits; while, at
the same time, Innocent IV prohibited them from reading, even as
mere profane works, the laws of the country. The non-interference
of the clergy was further secured by the regulations in the Magna
Charta, which Henry III at last set in full practice, to the effect that
the secular judges were no longer to wander about, and follow the steps
of the royal camp and periodic residences, but were henceforth to
hold their. sittings at a certain fixed place in Westminster. The
teachers and pupils of the common law, who were excluded from the
ecclesiastical institutions at Oxford and Cambridge, established, in
consequence, judicial colleges for themselves, called, as. yet, the inns
of court and of chancery, modelled after the ecclesiastical ones, and
privileged to confer titles and certain academical degrees on distin-
guished members, Both parties maintained for a long time their op-
position, with equal success. - Wherever the influence of the clergy
found access, as in the universities, and even in the courts of war and
admiralty, the Roman and canonical laws were prevalent ; whilst in the
various courts of Westminster the common law alone was practised.

Thus we find England, as early as the beginning of the thirteenth
century governed by two species of legislation, entirely alien to each
other, both in form and substance. The frequent clashing of these
in spirit, argument, and decision, soon gave rise to a third species of
legislation ; and from the deficiencies which were soon discovered to
exist in the practice of the common law, emendations and reforms
were introduced. :

The common law, based on. prevailing customs, usages, and opinions,
as: long as its explanation.and application were in the hands of unlearn-
ed judges, must be considered as a sort of progressive legislation, con-
taining in itself the seeds of its reform and completion, and rendering
all other legislative contrivances for the conduct of civil life superflu-
ous. Every ease in litigation received a judicial decision, bearing the
stamp and spirit of the then predominant custom and opinion, reducing
all the judgments to.a subserviency tothe spirit of the time, and just-
ly deserving the appellation of a continual and infinite revelation of —

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. 13

reason. But, contrary to the true and mutable spirit of the common
law, an attempt was made to harden and mould it into fixedness, to
prevent its moving with, and adaptation to, the temporal cireumstances
of the age, and to set the past as an immaculate and unchangeable
eriterion and guide for the present and the futwre. The barbarous
nations, when they settled in the provinces of the Eastern empire, be-
gan to collect and write down in a book their customary laws; and in
so doing, yet perhaps with a good intent, they perpetuated an injury
anda curse upon society. Like the child, who walled and fenced and
protected its beloved flower from what it thought the rude and boiste-
rous atmosphere, and thus reduced it to a stunted weakly thing, while
its friendless fellow grew alone, inhaling the sweet fresh air, the bril-
liant sunshine, and the cooling showers, flourished foith in full-deve-
loped beauty ; so the recorders of those customary laws, ignorant of
the tendencies of their act, and not at all aware of the true nature of
those customary laws they were recording, which, in fact, should be
left, like the flower, to the ever-changing yet genial atmosphere of ex-
isting circumstances, tampered with and spoiled the beautiful flexibility
of their spirit, by fixing it within the hard and drying influence of their
proper protection. -

In England, Alfred was the first who collected the customs of the
eountry: into the'so-called Dome Book, which was extant in the time
of Edward IV, but is now lost. Edward the Confessor caused to be
made another, yet larger collection, the oldest groundwork of the pre-
sent common law ; and hadi the plan of making: those written records
and collections been steadily followed up, it could but have added ef-
fect to the pre-eminence of the Roman law, when compared with the
rude: efforts of uncivilized nations in the art of positive legislation.
Happily for the fate of the: common law, the Norman princes cared
little ‘concerning the records of eustoms which were not part and par-
. cel of their policy, and which were not objects of interest to conquer-
ors in general. The common law then gained some respite from fur-
ther mischievous tampering by sheer neglect.

The impulse which had now been given to the art, if we may so ex-
press ourselves, of popular order, and which spread to, and enlarged
the view of, judicial affairs and transitory customs, had’its effect by im-
perceptibly transforming those customs into positive laws, and thus
erecting a beacon for the guide of similar litigant cases in future ages.
A series of those prejudications were officially recorded by the pro-
thonotaries of the several courts, from the reign of Edward’ until
Henry VII, and afterwards, under James I, at the suggestion of Lord

14 ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

Bacon, by particular recorders appointed to the task. These annual
records formed at length the source, the fountain-head, of comnon law ;
which formed, in the course of time, receptacles of such breadth and
depth as at once to defy the most indefatigable and indomitable mind,
even though coupled with an insatiable thirst for knowledge and ex-
ploration.

The evil was still further augmented by the formality of the pro-
ceedings, which were maintained in strict accordance with ancient
usage, and in the teeth of the altered spirit of the age. The forms
and expressions, too, of the litigant parties, as regards the petitions of
the latter and the judicial decisions, naturally of a narrow character,
from the comparatively barbarous times in which they had their
origin, and when there was scarcely any other property save the soil,
and no other important branch of industry than agriculture, were yet
further contracted by the introduction of the feudal system, and crip-
pled down and narrowed in order to accord with the limited state of
social intercourse. It may be naturally supposed. that, with the in-
crease of civilization, and with the growth of a trading and mercan-
tile intercourse, and, above all, after the abolition of the feudal system,
that such antiquated forms must have clashed with the expanding spi-
rit of new affairs, or at least have been neutralized into a dead letter.
In some degree, thus it was. The judges, lawyers, and parties them-
selves, were obliged to invent new names and means in order to facili-
tate in some degree the march of the new order of affairs; and in
some instances the wisdom of these people was curiously displayed,
particularly in the disposal and transfer of landed property. In this
instance, a sort of learned comedy was played; new difficulties and
involvements were generated, which rendered proceedings still more
tedious. A sort of pedantic, juridical faction, now formed the base of
a legislation from which the spark of life had fled. No wonder that
the lack of forms suitable to the real character of affairs constituted
one of the main obstacles to the distribution of justice with regard to
the common law.

Thus in the same manner, and from the same cause, as the Preto-
rian jurisdiction was transformed at Rome into a peculiar species of
legislation, was the judicial authority of the lord chancellor in Eng-
land converted into a new and particular kind of legislation, called
equity, the court of which extends its jurisdiction over all those
civil affairs of the realm which are of a modern origin, and for which
the ancient form of the common law could not have provided: such
as insolvencies which required a judicial investigation ; the care to be

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. 15

taken of the person and property of individuals of nonage and insane
mind; and, finally, all those commercial transactions for which no
provisions are found in the common law, and which all fall under the
jurisdiction of the court of equity, as a third species of legislation, al-
so provided with peculiar regulations and forms.

Considering, then, the casualty to which the civil laws owe their
introduction and formation, it may not be unreasonable to doubt whe-
ther the jury, the far-famed pillar of the English liberty, be really the
true image of the ancient Germanic popular courts.. This much is
eertain, that, long after the conquest, the juries were greatly limited
and neglected, and that the mode of settling disputes by judicial single
combat was very much preferred. The expression, also, in the twenty-
ninth chapter of the Magna Charta, which was generally considered
as referring to the confirmation of the jury, or rather its jurisdiction,
and by which no freeman can be endangered in goods and person ex-
cept per legale judicium parium suorum vel per legem terre (by
the decision of his peers and the laws of the country )—that expres-
sion, we say, has such a striking resemblance to that used by the
Emperor Conrad II, about two centuries previously, in securing to his
Italian inferior vassals the inviolate and perpetual possession of their
benifices (nemo beneficium suum perdat nisi secundum consuetudi-
nem antecessorum nostrorum et per judicium parium suorum.—
L. L. Longab., 1. iii.; Tit., ii., i., 4), that it may be fairly questioned
whether the jurisdiction of the jury was at all the subject of conside-
ration. And if we add to it the remarkable circumstance that the ex-
ertions—or, as we may now term it, the spirit of the age—of the
feoffees of that period consisted chiefly in securing their independence
against the encroachments of their superiors, and, further, that it
was the feoffees who extorted the Magna Charta from King John, it is
more than probable that the above expression refers to the irrevocabi-
lity of the granted benefices (as those by the Emperor Conrad in Italy),
rather than to aught pertaining to the jury, its privileges, or functions.

Perhaps, if construed in that more probable sense, the jury might
be nothing else than the continuation of that mode of judicial proceed-
ing which was current when the courts of fees existed, and when the
accused was judged by his peers. ‘That mode of proceeding, however,
soon sunk into oblivion in those countries where the feudal system was
not of so comprehensive a character, and only included under its rule
the nobles and other important subjects ; whilst it could but serve as
the basis of a progressive and lasting institution of liberty in a country
like England, where, as we have already stated, the feudal system rami-

16 ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

fied throughout the whole kingdom, taking in and subjugating the whole
mass, from the noble to the peasant ; and the royal courts of fees were,
from the beginning (Wales and. the Isle of Man alone excepted);
the only tribunals in the country which extended their immediate | au-
thority to all classes of society in all secular affairs.

Thus were formed three peculiar kinds of legislation, which extend-
ed their jurisdiction to certain distinct and well-defined branches in
practical. life; at the same time they were, and had been during
many centuries, hinged upon, and subject to, the will ofthe monarch.
The throne, which was regarded in England as the source of justice,
was, at the same time, and truly in a less figurative sense, the source,
also, of a most unlimited arbitrary power, the growth, or rather the
abuse, of an ancient custom, arising, as we have before observed,
from the most widely-spread and absolute system of feudalism in the
world. Even to this present moment there is no perfect allodial pro-
perty in England, and the king is still styled the lord paramount of
the country. It was only under Charles II (by the statute 12th of
Car. II, c..24), in the latter part of the seventeenth century, that
the oppressive conditions and drudgeries attached to landed pro-
perty, by the rules of the ancient feudal system, were entirely abo-
lished: a greater acquisition, says Blackstone, to the civil property
of the kingdom, than even Magna Charta itself.

Notwithstanding the gradual accumulation of facts and experi.
ence as regards the customs or the laws of the country, the princes
were but ill-disposed to respect any regulation which clashed with
their individual interests, or thwarted their self-willed inclinations.
The monarchs generally considered their rights of legitimacy more
sacred, and of higher importance, than the customs or the esta-
blished laws of the land. The first prince who showed a disposition
to observe those laws which had been extorted from himself and his
predecessors was Henry III, in whose reign, also, and records, first
appeared the clause non obstante, by which means he and his. suc-
cessors at once acknowledged and violated the laws. Letters of pro-
tection, also, and mandates of various kinds, impeded or regulated
the course of justice ; and the repeated contrivances which were re-
sorted to for the purpose of meeting that abuse plainly indicated
the extent to which it had been carried, and the futility of the at-
tempts which were made to resist it. The first regulation which
was intended to counteract this evil, was made in the reign of Ed-
ward 1; but it is very doubtful whether he or his successors paid
any respect toit. The great number of letters of protection issued

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. 17

under Edward I gave rise, in the reign of Edward II, to loud
clamours and complaints, which had the effect, in the second year of
Edward JII, of reducing them under the ban of illegality. Yet so
closely had they become entwined with the practices of the age, and
the interest of individuals, that they were not easily suppressed, but
were to be met with even as late as the times of Queen Elizabeth.

The management of judicial affairs, which, under the immediate
care of the crown or cabinet, was considered, in other countries, as
a violent but transitory encroachment upon the established institu-
tions of the state, constituted, in England, supreme and regular tri-
bunals, which existed for centuries under the presidency of the lord
high constable and commissioner of the star chamber. The equerry
(constabularius), in the early domiciles of the Germanic tribes,
might probably have been one of the elevated and favoured officers
of the opulent landholders, who had to maintain an extensive reti-
nue. As those possessors of the land increased their domains and
their lordly power in the provinces of the Roman Empire, it is very
likely that it suited their dignity, as well as convenience, to assign
a portion of their newly-acquired territory for the support of these
upper servants of their household, instead of maintaining them un-
der the lordly roof, as was hitherto the case. Thus the first step
was laid for their exaltation, Then came another remove: the
landholder was changed into a lord, and, as a matter of course, his
domestic retinue rose in rank with himself, particularly the upper
servants, who now, doubtless, assumed the appearance of court
officers, retaining their ancient names as a sort of title of honour ;
while the services attached to their offices were abandoned to infe-
rior servants, coachmen, and other upper menials, who might, also,
in their turn, have climbed upwards in dignity, had there been
another Roman Empire to be conquered and plundered.

In the course of time, the office of constable assumed a very high
and important station at court; for we find, at a certain period of
history, that the household of the court, which in England meant
neither more nor less than all the subjects of the king, were placed
under his direct care and management. This domestic discipline
soon assumed, in the camps of the conquering princes, the character
of a martial court, which soon became consolidated in the single per-
son of the constable, who then became invested with such a pleni-
tude of dictatorial power as to be at once incompatible with all
rational and peaceful purposes, and at the same time to give cause
of serious alarm even to the princes themselves. Henry VIII, the
most arbitrary monarch of England, at length abolished the office ;

yet he could not entirely sweep it away, it still clung like an un-
VOL, X., NO. XXVIII.

18 ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

seemly anomaly to the judgment seat, even in times of peace; nor
did it did give way until the long outstanding account between the
people and the crown was finally settled under Charles I.

The star chamber (at the side of which was afterwards esta-
blished, for similar purposes in ecclesiastical affairs, the court of
high commission) was the second tribunal which acted up to the will
of the monarch, as manifested in the royal proclamation, rather
than the dictates of the established law. Founded on ancient cus-
toms, it attained under Henry VII a sanction nearly akin to legal
authority ; and under Henry VIII the parliament, after having
assigned to the royal proclamations the same legal force as to par-
liamentary. edicts, declared that henceforth nine councillors of the
crown were to form a legitimate tribunal, the business of which
should be, to decide on matters respecting the obedience or non-obe-
dience to the royal proclamations.

‘In 1641 the star chamber was abolished, and with that establish-
ment fell the privilege of the crown to govern by its own arbitrary
will. If royal proclamations were occasionally issued, their actual
enforcement depended on the views and opinion of the several judi-
cial authorities, who were now guided by defined and positive
laws.
The rights of supreme authority, conceded to the governments
which were formed under the conquerors of the Roman Empire, in
those countries which had been composed of its wreck, are of a dif-
ferent and various origin.

Royalty, among the ancient Germans, denivted a similar aisbbaoils
ty to that of the Scottish lairds over their clans, or of the Arabian
sheiks over their Nomadian tribes, being no more than an extended
order of that authority which the father or the patriarch holds over
the members of his own family; and so long as the wandering
hordes were confined to their two ancient acceptations, the martial
and the pastoral, they formed a closely-united society, held together
by the most simple and direct links, and, accustomed to the broad
fields and the open air, it was their practice to congregate at a pub-
lic rendezvous, to receive the commands, and put themselves under
the guidance of their chief or king. When civilization, however,
progressed, and the roving tribes, finding themselves in undisturbed
possession of pleasant and fertile domains, settled down into various
trades and professions, and thus passed from their primitive condi-
tion, then royalty dwindled into a mere title of distinction. Agri-
culture especially tended to sever and dissolve the links which held
together the tribes, and broke off and divided the mass into little
independent communities, in separate districts and circles, under the.

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. 19

immediate chief of their own. ‘These divisions with their chiefs,
though still acknowledging the supreme authority of their hing,
whose face they seldom saw, and with whose distant residence they
seldom came in contact, gradually became estranged, and silently,
with the change of their own condition, revolutionized that of the
monarch. The right of government, too, seems to have been little
heeded, that is, in the present sense of the term ; for the generals
of troops in times of war—the most eminent personages among the
Germanic tribes, next to the king—were not chosen by the latter,
but actually elected by the people from among the most worthy,
though least noted, candidates.—(Reges et nobilitate, duces ex vir-
tute sumunt.—Tacit. De Mor. Germ., c. 7).

The expeditions of the northern lords, commonly called the emi-
grations of nations, were, in fact, not so numerous and general as is
usually believed ; and, further, they were not so much the affair of
the nations, as of the chiefs who undertook such expeditions. Nei-
ther was the number which, in the first instance, marched from
their country, large. ‘The chiefs appeac to have gone forth at the
head of comparatively a few followers, but whose ranks were
swelled, in the course of their progress, by a host of adventurous
volunteers. Whoever the leader may have been, whether princes
of the royal blood (as with the Franconians), or individuals elected
from the midst of the people, this is certain, that the great bulk of
the numbers which formed the expeditions consisted chiefly of the
servants and dependents of the leaders ; since it can scarcely be sup-
posed that the freemen—i. e. the landholders—would abandon their
quiet possessions at home, and seek an uncertain fortune in foreign
countries: a supposition which is even contradicted by the fact that
the names of the modern naticns which had settled in the subdued pro-
vinces of the ancient Roman Empire occurred also, for many subse-
quent centuries, in ancient Germany or Scandinavia ; a circumstance
from which we may reasonably suspect of exaggeration those reports of
the emigrations of the northern nations. The spoils of landed proper-~
ty which were made in these wars, and which were wrenched, in the
provinces, either from private individuals or from the Roman fiscal,
were divided, of course, among those invaders, in proportion to the
part they took in the conquest, or rather tothe number of warriors
they brought into the field. Thus it happened that extensive es-
tates fell to the lot of many a leader of these freebooters, over which
they ruled in the ancient spirit of Germanic independence and right
of landed property, almost as unlimited as the monarch himself ; and
although the owners of minor estates were as independent within
their territories as those of the more extensive ones, yet the influ.

20 ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

ence and ascendency which the latter naturally gained by. the supe-
riority of wealth gradually led to their indirect control over the
former. Amidst these circumstances, royalty sunk into a mere
title, or at best maintained but a nominal authority. The rights of,
or the power of commanding, forced services, taxes, and villainage,
constituted the exclusive privilege of the owners of land. As re-
gards the king, he certainly presided at the head of the freemen
(owners of landed property), and was looked up to as the supreme
head in all political and judicial affairs ; but he had not the slight-
est power over the persons of any class of the people, nor could he
enforce the simplest service of the humblest individual, unless that
individual belonged to the circle of his own landed property (that is,
if he possessed any), and merely in his simple capacity of a land-
holder or freeman. These two distinct lines of right and authority
ran parallel to each other for a long period ; and it thus happened
that the advocates of opposite opinions respecting the social forms
and principles of that early part of the middle ages—such as Dubos
and Baulainvilliers—support their respective opinions with equal
truth on facts apparently at variance with each other. The singu-
- lar state of society at that early period, when extreme liberty on
the one hand, with its licentious train of arbitrary power, was so
strikingly contrasted by abject slavery, with its debasing concomi-
tants, on the other, has involved the history of those times in such
a depth of gloomy obscurity, as to baffle the industry of the most
erudite investigator, not only as respects that particular period of
time, but also as regards the real state of society in subsequent
ages. |
Such a state of things, bearing, as it were, a doubly opposite
character, was not calculated to be of very long duration. Political
freedom, which usually follows the standard of wealth, was at that
time closely allied to landed property, the only species of wealth of
importance; and so extensive was the power which these territorial
possessions engendered for their owner, that it threatened to over-
whelm, in one vast domination to the wealthy lords, all those free-
men of minor allotments of land throughout the country.

The vast consequence which was now attached to the persons and
the character of those extensive landholders, and the glitter and
show of their establishment, as well as the wide range of their
power, naturally generated a species of rivalry, which increased to
open contention and jealousy among the numerous hosts of menials
and dependents. These classes grew impatient with their condition,
and yearned for a share of that property which in itself brought to —
its possessor so wide a range of power ; and, for the purpose of lift-

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. 91

ing themselves up to a leve)] with their masters, issued forth as vo-
lunteers in new expeditions, in the hope of grasping some land, as
their lords had done. Thus a sort of moral revolution occurred, and
the landholders found themselves involved in its vortex; and
though rich and powerful as far as the possession of wealth went,
yet they could not fail of being convinced that their wealth and
numbers were but as a breath of air compared with the physical
strength of the host to which they were opposed. In this emer-
gency, all parties were willing to appeal to the crown, which, as we
have before observed, was looked up-to at least as the nominal head
in political and judicial affairs. Under these circumstances, the mo-
narch, like the ancient. Romans, soon transformed himself from an
impartial] judge into an arbitrary master, and so ordered his policy
as to reduce, under the classification of nobles and peasants (freemen
and slaves), the whole population to the condition of subjects to the
crown. Thus the unwary multitude, in its negotiation with the
nominal head of the realm, lost its actual independence ; and the
monarch, seizing the favourable opportunity, converted the nominal
into real power, affecting at once public liberty.in general. Hence-
forth the whole of the population was bound to perform service to
the crown, according to their capacity, in times of war and peace ;
while the monarch swayed over the mass of the people, like the Im.
perators of old, in the full power of despotism, rendering all classes
subservient to their will, converting the private right of a lord over
his dependents into that of government, and palliating the. services
which the freemen were bound to perform by some gaudy title and
distinction, which, in fact, only marked their degree of dependence
on the crown, and the kind of service expected from them at court.
The origin of our modern social relations, as well as our pedi-
grees, are lost, certainly in darkness, not in the clouds, as some
court chroniclers would have us believe ; but rather in that earthy
mass of the mother evil from which they sprung. The social, ties
of the middle ages were wrought by the hand of slavery and bond-
age ; and the actual human nature of all classes, from the haughty
liveried vassal of the crown down to the humble soccager, was in-
delibly stained and imprinted with the stamp of abject servitude.
The compass of the rights and privileges of the crown pointed
still, despite their reforms, to the source from whence they sprung
—to the immunity of landed property, and which contained in it-
self the germ of its own destruction. At that early period of civili-
zation no notion was entertained as to. the management of estates
in distant countries, without disposing of them at once into other
hands. Indeed, the control and regulation of distant estates was

22 ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS

not of easy accomplishment when the means of communication were
so few and precarious ; and even these were obstructed by the want
of that vivifying principle of intercourse, a freely circulating coin-
age. A large estate was managed as a large piece of coin, by divid-
ing and cutting it into little pieces for the various uses of minor
import, and with still greater disadvantage in the prospect of vield-
ing it up without the hope of ever repossessing it. For the distant
estates which were conferred on distinguished individuals and. fa-
vourites of the court, the crown received in return only a certain
proportion of personal services—current pieces of coin scarcely being
known at the time—which, when the value of landed property in-
creased with the progress of civilization, must have been wholly in-
adequate and out of all proportion to the value received, to the
great detriment of the crown, and increased pecuniary advantage of
the landholder.

The pecuniary losses thus sustained by the crown were attended
with yet greater grievances with regard to the royal influence in
practical life generally ; since all civil functions, commissions, and
rights of administration of public affairs, were closely connected with
the possession of private property, with which the favourites were
invested by the crown. The monarch, then, as in all anterior as
well as subsequent ages, after having given away his substance, and
in fact the only means ‘of sustaining his power, met from the indi-
viduals whom he had enriched, opposition, resistance, and protesta-
tions nearly on every occasion when the royal decrees clashed with
their individual private interest. ‘Thus the crown suffered materi-
ally by its bounty to its vassals, who, grown numerous and rich,
and consequently powerful, were able to defy the comparatively
poor monarch, whose fate, in many respects, resembled that of
Shakspeare’s Lear. |

Neither the more arbitrary proceedings of granting benefices, as
practiced by the Marowingians, nor the more regular mode of re-
warding warriors by which Charles Martel laid the second and last-
ing foundation of the subsequent feudal system, and which Charle-
magne vainly endeavoured to convert into a public affair by blending
' it with the ancient forms of the people—neither mode of proceeding
was calculated to improve the domestic economy of the crown; on
the contrary, these two dynasties, the Marowingian and Carolingi-
an, grew so poor upon the throne that they were finally obliged,
when nothing was left them but the crown, to yield it up to the
richest and the most powerful of their own servants. The German
kings and emperors, through the custom of investing strangers with
their private property as soon as they were called to the throne,

OF ENGLISH LIBERTY. 23

divested themselves, at the same time, of the only means of sustain-
ing their regal authority by substantial dignity and independent
opulence, or of securing the throne to their descendents. Indeed,
had this imprudent lavish custom of sacrificing their private pro-
perty, been followed up by subsequent princes, Germanic Europe
could never have assumed the appearance of union beyond that of a
confederacy, or enjoyed more liberty than is common to a republi-
can oligarchy.

A similar fate, arising from the same quarter, might have await-
ed the mass of the people from the development of the feudal sys-
tem, had it not been for the revival of the Roman law, from which
the doctrines of the Regalia were borrowed. By this means a new
system of supreme authority was devised for the crown, the influ-
ence of which soon spread itself abroad throughout society, and
into the very bosom of practical life.

It was at Bologna, in Italy, where the professors of jurisprudence
first began to teach the doctrines of monarchical prerogative, as
founded in the Roman law. But the German emperors were too
late in acting upon the principles of their newly-discovered power ;
and in their attempts to employ them against the rights of the ris-
ing and flourishing cities of Italy, the crown lost its only chance of
defence and support against its more powerful vassals. In France,
however, since the third dynasty of Hugot Capet and his successors,
the monarchs, being at first confirmed in the legitimate possession
of the throne by but a few of their vassals, were naturally driven
to look to their own resources and tangible strength ; and knowing,
at the same time, that waste or inattention in these particulars was
tantamount to a relinquishment of their crown, they took great
care, not only not to squander their estates, but to improve them by
all possible means, as the only certain basis of the security of their
usurped throne. Thus was laid the first stone of the foundation of
a real arbitrary monarchy, the full development of which was
greatly favoured by the circumstance that the administration of the
judicial courts and tribunals was, in consequence of the multiplica-
tion and complication of public and private litigious suits, yielded
up by the martial nobles to the more learned and persevering law-
yers, who, having no estates of their own to defend against the
crown, gradually regained for that power what had been formerly
wrenched from it by the selfish vassals, in putting into practice, es-
pecially since the reign of Louis the Saint, the legal yet novel view,
viz. that the most important rights formerly attached to landed
property were now to be transferred to the supreme authority of the
realm, leaving nothing to the owners of the estates beyond the en-

24 ON THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS, &c.

joyment of the usufruct. This new doctrine, whatever its real
design might have been, was received by the mass of the people
with cheerfulness ; for its tendency appeared to be, the restoration
of order in the confused state of public affairs. Yet it cannot be
denied that the legislators, in promulgating the new doctrines, had
solely in view the advantage of the crown, and had as little at heart
the interest of the people, as the promoters of the former customs
had it in establishing the rights of the few landholders. The results,
however, proved a substantial national gain: a degree of stability
and centralization was infused into the government, and the op-
pressed multitude knew, at least, now, where to seek for redress
against the cruelties of the minor number of aristocrats.

This second remodellation of the royal power had not made its
way to England, and for this reasor, that the Roman Jaw had not
only never attained a dominant and established ascendancy in the
island ; but also, and chiefly, because the rights of the crown had,
in that country, never undergone such revolutions as’ in the other
parts of Europe. “In England the kings had always maintained the
ancient prerogatives, despite the increasing strength and power of
landed ‘estates. The Norman expedition to England—the last scene
of the emigration of nations—happened at a period, and issued from
a country, when and where the original statutes of the feudal sys-
tem were yet fresh in memory and in full operation. Nor could
they have been greatly degenerated in a country like Normandy,
where the princes were as active as the people were of a young and ©
recent origin. William the Conqueror found in his right of con-
quest the best opportunity of setting in full force the principles of
feudalism ; and he did so, with much cruelty, among the newly-con-
quered people of England. Moreover, the frequent and violent
changes in the regal succession tended to furnish every new con-
queror and usurper with the means of renewing from time to time,
and with increased severity and violence, the ancient feudal rights
of the crown over the landholders and their possessions. Thus,
while in Germany and other parts of Europe the bonds of feudalism
were imperceptibly loosened from the people, in England that same
system of thraldom, as its force and vigour were reduced by the
hand of time, was resuscitated and refreshed, and every link
throughout the whole chain was kept bright and in perfect repair.

In fine, England was the only country in Europe where the feu-
dal system was so universal as to connect the humblest subject im-
mediately with the crown: a circumstance to which we frequently
recur, because by it alone we shall be enabled’ to find the clue to
many obscure points in her history and constitution. —

(To be continued ).

25.

RAMBLES IN WESTERN SWITZERLAND
AND THE JURA.

CHAPTER I.

IntTRODUCTION.—THE JuRA.—SiGNAL oF Bovey.—Sunset tn Swit-
ZERLAND.—S?T. Grorcks.THe Gruacter—TaeEe Pink Forests
OF THE JURA,

Ir is scarcely less amusing than instructive to observe how the
same series of objects is differently viewed by different eyes, and how
the feelings, fancies, and prejudices of the individual, never fail to
show themselves in all his remarks, and give a colouring to all his
observations and opinions. This is, I think, the true reason why
descriptive works, and, above all, accounts of travels, are ever new
and amusing, and why, also, the very same scenes may be described
correctly by several passers-by, and yet each shall differ from the
other, and all may be read and studied with pleasure and advantage.
It seems to me that this alone would be a fair excuse for multiplying
still further “ recollections of travel ;” but, on the present occasion,
I flatter myself that there are even stronger reasons for a fresh
attempt, and I hope to persuade the reader of this in the following
pages, and induce him to allow that I have discovered rich mines of
golden gossip, shadowed forth in the title which heads this article.
And yet it is a bold thing, in these days of universal peregrination,
to talk of discovering any district at once unvisited and beautiful ;
and still more bold will the presumption seem when the country is
such an one as Switzerland, talked of by every body, and visited by
half the world. Perhaps, however, talked of and visited as Switzer-
land undoubtedly is, there is no instance to be mentioned in which
- the partiality of the great herd of travellers for high roads and cele-
brated guide-book marvels is more strikingly apparent. The great
majority go from Paris to Geneva by the “ diligence,” pass over the
Jura probably at night or early in the morning, and are hardly aware
of the existence of such a mountain chain. From Geneva they will
hurry to Chamounix,to see the glories of Mont Blanc; then, if they pro-
pose making a regular Swiss tour, will return to Geneva, go to Berne,
thence to Thun de Grindelwald, and Meyringen, stopping, of course, at

VOL. X., NO. XXVIII. 4

°

26 RAMBLES IN WESTERN SWITZERLAND

{Interlaken ; and from Meyringen will either journey northwards, by
Luzern and Basle, into Germany, or turn southwards again towards
Italy. And these people will be satisfied, and think they have seen
Switzerland, and will talk, not only of the lofty and magnificent
mountains, but also of the habits, manners, and appearance, of the
people, little aware that the annual influx of thousands of human
beings, of all soris and kinds, has completely destroyed the real na-
tional character in those districts which alone they and the multitude
visit. It is in consequence of this limited knowledge that we hear
people complain of the national character of the Swiss being deteri-
orated, and of their having become a dishonest people, wholly given
up to the cheating of travellers, especially Englishmen ; and that the
once innocent, simple inhabitants, do little else than prey upon the
~ unsuspecting stranger, who, in his turn, has become the innocent, the
interesting, and the injured. When, however, any one desires to
amuse himself with foreign travel, and is not thoroughly satisfied
before starting that the English language and the habits of English-
men are the only things worthy of his attention and admiration, he may
find, even at the present day, and that, too, in Switzerland, a simple-
minded, intelligent race, little accustomed to strangers, and little
injured by their contact—a race whose love of country is yet unim-
paired, and who, if need be, would stand up and die in defence of
their mountain home and their liberty. In order to discover the very
existence of this real Swiss feeling, it is necessary, however, to put
off the thick warm coat of prejudice, which the too fortunate En-
glishman is rather apt to indulge in, even in his summer excursions.
The people must not have their prejudices shocked by the exhibition
of ours when we go as strangers among them; and we must put up
with many little discomforts, and often real annoyances, which, in the
well-regulated hotels on most of the continental high roads, would
never be endured. For instance, good or even tolerable dinners,
decent solitary beds, quiet evenings, un-loquacious inn-keepers, —
speaking intelligible French, or even, as is often the case, English :
these are things left behind when we quit the ordinary travelled .
route; and, in fact, one who cannot trust to himself, with a knapsack
on his back, a compass and map in his pocket, and a pair of stout
legs and shoes to match, had better not look for amusement where
he, perhaps, might only find annoyance, and where the difficulties and
dangers are not sufficient to add excitement to the objects of in-
terest.
However, presuming that my narrative may be more tempting than

AND THE JURA. 27

my reflections upon it, I will proceed to describe a few days spent, last
summer, most agreeably, in wandering and exploring in the valleys
of the Jura; and though the results of my expedition cannot be said
to possess much that is novel or of scientific interest, they may, at all
events, help to pass away an idle hour, and induce others to visit, in
a similar way, a district abounding in wild romantic and forest
scenery.

The part of Switzerland to which the peregrinations I am about to
describe were confined, consists of a narrow strip limited by a line
through Lausanne and Neuchatel to the east, and the frontier of
France to the west. It includes a small part of the great valley of
Switzerland, and the greater part of the line of mountains well known
under the name of “ The Jura.”

This chain of the Jura extends for about one hundred and fifty
miles in a direct line between the Rhine and the Rhone, and forms
the natural boundary of France and Switzerland. Towards the north
it expands in an easterly direction, forming several irregularly paral-
lel ridges ; but throughout there is an approximation to a division
into three principal lines, which, however, nearly unite towards Ge-
neva, and are represented in the very singular mountain of the Saleve,
which rises immediately to the south of that city. Such is the gene-
ral appearance of the chain. The elevations are all considerable, but
none of them excessive, the usual range being from three to five
thousand feet, although Mont Tendre reaches a height of nearly six
thousand. The outline is, for the most part, rounded and heavy,
wanting all the sharp, jagged, needle-shaped projections, which render
the high Alps so picturesque and grand. Seen from a distance, there
is nothing striking or prepossessing in the prospect; and the eye of
the traveller entering Switzerland is naturally and necessarily at-
tracted to the more remarkable configuration which the great chain
of the Alps presents to view. It is only when we come near, and
view in detail the separate mountains of the Jura from the valleys
between them—when we wander in the vast forests of lofty pines, or
look down from a bold, rocky, naked eminence, upon the mixture of
desolation and cultivation, of nature and art, of wildness and beauty,
which the numerous valleys present—when we come suddenly upon
the most retired and most lovely of lakes, or thread the narrow and
singular gorges which at intervals present themselves—it is only, in
fact, when we search for the beauties that we find and truly enjoy
them; for I am willing to admit that they do not force themselves

28 RAMBLES IN WESTERN SWITZERLAND

into notice, or boldly challenge the admiration which is certainly
their due. ; ‘

Nor are the mountains in this western part of Switzerland without
their proper amount of cold and ice. There are natural ice caverns,
where the warmth of the sun never penetrates, and where the rich
tracery of nature’s crystalline architecture may be studied on a grand
scale. There are, too, other and more permanent stalactitic beauties ;
for the limestone, of which the Jura is chiefly composed, is often
broken into caverns of various sizes, some of them presenting very
beautiful appearances, from the infiltration of water charged with
carbonate of lime. Of these, I regret to be obliged to acknowledge
that I did not see any ; a neglect which arose partly from ignorance,
but chiefly from necessity, not having so much time to spare as
the subject demanded.

The first expedition that I made towards the Jura mountains was
with a friend, who, to my great loss, could not accompany me on subse-
quent occasions. Perhaps, on this account as much as any other,
there is a freshness and agreeableness about my reminiscences of this
trip, which hardly attaches to other and more extensive explor-
ings. _ I shall give the narrative pretty much as I find it in my jour-
nal, and trust to its truth and close adherence to fact to excite inte-

rest, rather than to any colouring that I might be tempted to indulge
in.

On a beautiful afternoon in the beginning of August, I embarked
with my companion at Lausanne, on board the steam boat which
touches there on its way to Geneva; and in about two hours we
landed at the pretty village of Rolle, whence we slowly ascended to
an elevation at some few miles distance to the north, on the highest
point of which, about eighteen hundred feet above the level of the
lake, there is a little summer-house kind of building, marking a spot
well known to picturesque hunters in the neighbourhood of Geneva
as the “Signal of Bougy.” It was our intention to remain here till
sunset, and then, having feasted our eyes with the magnificence and
beauty of the extensive prospect, we were to make the best of our
way to Aubonne, a pretty village, situated at no very great distance.

We arrived at the signal about half an hour before sunset, and had
leisure to look around and admire the noble landscape that presented
itself to our view. Owing to the situation of this elevated ridge near
the bend of the lake, the whole of the vast sheet of water, extending
from Geneva to Villeneuvye—a distance of not less than fifty miles—

AND THE JURA. 29

is exposed to view with the most perfect distinctness. Every little
bay and inlet, every spire of a village church on either side of its
banks, every one of the numerous villages and towns modestly retir.
ing under the rich woodland scenery, which at once overshadows and
discloses the works of man—every object, in fact, that the eye can
rest on with pleasure, is here seen clearly and sharply defined, in
harmonious contrast with the blue sky and bluer water. Just oppo-
site the signal the lake attains its greatest breadth, nearly ten miles ;
and the mountains on the opposite or Savoy side are seen to recede,
leaving a narrow opening, which discovers not only the lofty summit of
the giant monarch of mountains, but also a considerable portion of the
eternal mantle of snow which envelopes his shoulders, and which the
comparatively insignificant but much nearer elevations effectually hide
from view in almost every other spot in the vicinity of the Lake of
Geneva. .

And if, leaving these glories, we turn to contemplate the scene to
the east and north, there is a new set of beauties, a new species of
loveliness, not so striking, but scarcely less interesting than the other.
The frowning mass of Mont Tendre, already in deep shade—for, the
sun setting behind this mountain, the intervening valley is the first
darkened—the rich but sombre forests which clothe the sides of that
as of most of the Jura mountains, the contrast of bright green corn-
fields, which nothing can make to look gloomy, the multitude of
patches of vineyard, and the occasional appearance of a naked sandy
waste, all these, in their way, add to the effect, which is completed by
distant glimpses of pretty villages, here and there peeping out from
their green hiding-places.

Amid all these elements of beauty, and commanding a prospect of
much that is most lovely in Switzerland, did we stand to watch the
gradual but too rapid disappearance. of the sun, as he approached the
western horizon. At first the rich golden tint. was predominant, and
there was a degree of pain in the very intensity of the effulgence ; but
this soon mellowed down into a softer brilliancy, and tinted all. dis-
tant objects with a lovely rose colour, which in its turn became paler
and paler, as it died away upon the mountain tops, and left the snowy
summits in their clear cold reality. There is something deeply im-
pressive in thus watching the gradual departure of brilliancy, rich-
ness, and loveliness, first, from the nearest objects, where we seem
as if able to grasp and detain the beauty, and then successively from
those farther and farther ‘from us, just touching the distant prospect,
and giving it the vividness of reality, only to pass away the more

30 RAMBLES IN WESTERN SWITZERLAND

quickly, and leave all in darkness and obscurity. Such scenes ought
to be impressive lessons to the young and thoughtless: for so pass
away the glories of this world; and the distant objects of ambition,
love, or happiness, shine to them with a colouring as brilliant, and
one which will prove as evanescent, even as the last tint communicated
by a summer’s sun.

Certainly a fine sunset in Switzerland is a thing not easily to be
forgotten when it has been enjoyed in silence and under favourable
circumstances. The lengthening shadows of the mountains, the
changeful tints of the calm waters, the distant snow on one side and
the gloomy forests on the other, are well calculated to produce a
train of thinking and ideas of rest and peace, reminding one of child-
hood and of home, and promoting a sadness and melancholy which
are quite in consonance with the best feelings of our nature. There
comes over one, on such occasions, a desire and longing after another
and a nobler state of existence, where the spirit will not be bound
down by the close cords of mortality, but will be free to range at
pleasure from world to world, and know clearly those hidden things _
which the utmost stretch of imagination cannot now guess at.

I shall not often be led into these digressions, but there are few
evenings of my life which recur so often with pleasure to my memory
as the one I am now describing ; and I have yet more to say concern-
ing it. Not long after the sun had quite set to us, but while it still
communicated a rosy hue to Mont Blanc, whose lofty and distant
summit did not become tinted till the snow of all the other and nearer
mountains had recovered its former whiteness, we strolled along the
ridge, and soon had occasion to descend a little on coming to a nar-
row ravine. In the course of two or three minutes we again had the
same prospect before us: the same, but how changed! Mont Blanc
had now become of the colour of chased silver, a rich creamy appear-
ance, which the distant snow will sometimes take on evenings like
this. The other mountains frowned in their dark outlines yet more
clearly than before; for behind them had just arisen the queen of
night in all her simplicity and majesty, her full orb resting, as it
were, and skimming lightly upon the summit of one of them, as if
pausing to look upon the earth before commencing her nightly
course. It was her pale blue mingling with the last faint touches of
the rose, that had produced the rich but momentary colour we so
much admired. :

After a pleasant stroll through cultivated fields, catching at inter-
vals a momentary glance of the white summits of the distant moun-

AND THE JURA. 31

tains, we arrived at our destination, and after a supply of unexception-
able coffee, bread and butter, and honey, took a moonlight walk round
the village, and sat down in the public walks, admiring once more the
beautiful lake and mountain scenery which had so often before de-
lighted us. We returned to our inn, enjoyed very tolerable beds,
and next morning found us journeying westward ; and about eleven
we reached the town, or rather village, of Gimel, where we obtained
directions as to our further progress towards “ St. Georges,” in the
immediate vicinity of the mountains.

Before arriving at this last named village (which is three thousand
feet above the level of the sea), we had quite entered on the district
of the Jura, and already had wandered through extensive forests of
pine, and mounted and descended some considerable elevations. But
the appearance of St. Georges, from the last of the undulations
which form the fiank of the Jura, is pretty picturesque, and even
romantic in the extreme. The road, passing along a natural cut in
the rock, and showing on each side the naked limestone in a variety
of fantastic forms, conceals, for the most part, the view of the moun-
tains, until, becoming suddenly more rocky, and turning rather to the
right, we left its formal course, and trusting to our map and compass,
struck off to the left, and, mounting by a narrow path in that direc-
tion, were soon rewarded by the rich and wild scenery which disclosed
itself to our view as soon as we had reached the summit of a moderate
ascent. Immediately before us stretched the noble mountains, clothed
to their summit with the dark, sombre, but truly magnificent, vegeta-
tion of the lofty pine forests, which extended in one unbroken mass
as far as the eye could reach. Between the spot on which we
stood and this steep face of the mountains, there lay a lovely and
quiet valley, cultivated, but not tortured into too great regularity:
waving with corn, smiling in fruit trees, and completed by the pretty
peeping tower of a church rising above the houses of the little village
to which we were journeying. The perfect calm that reigned around
contributed to the effect of this scene; and we descended and arrived
at the village almost without speaking a word to interrupt the flow of
feeling which such a scene was well calculated to produce. The
narrow and irregular street we found almost choaked up by a large
flock of goats loitering about, and apparently driven down from their
mountain pasture to be milked. Threading our way through them,
though not without a little difficulty, we were soon directed to the
abode of the “ maitre du glacier,” who was to provide us with a guide
to take us across the mountain and show us the glacier of the Jura,

32 RAMBLES IN WESTERN SWITZERLAND

to see which, indeed, was one principal object of our expedition. We
found the house—the lower part serving for the goats, and, we presume,
the upper being appropriated to bipeds—but the master himself we
did not find, and were obliged to, wait some time before any one could
be hunted up to cénduct us. It would have been quite useless to
attempt to explore upon speculation, as the glacier is in a cavern,
whose mouth would not be easily seen, even at a short distance.
Meanwhile we examined the primitive wooden houses of which the
village was composed, and amused ourselves with watching the few
inhabitants in the place, who, in their turn, were most energetically
employed in scrutinising us. After waiting some time, a half-silly
half-drunk individual presented himself, and in the fewest possible
words intimated his readiness to be our escort. As there was no
choice we accepted his services, and immediately commenced a clam-
bering ascent through the thick forest, which, as I have said, clothes
the face of the mountain, and seems to rise like a green wall behind
the village. Although we had been walking for some hours, and our
guide had apparently very recently emerged from a cabaret, we did
not find this specimen of a Swiss mountaineer peculiarly active or dif-
ficult to keep up with. At every fallen tree that we came to he
paused, and intimated his desire to rest; and although at first we in-
dulged him, and plucked the strawberries and other fruits which
abounded, yet we soon discovered that it would be long before we
arrived at the top if we did not set an example of activity. After a
good deal of difficulty, we got the poor wretch to understand that we
would not pause so often, and at length, in about an hour, reached
the summit, crossed the ridge, and, descending for a short distance,
came upon the verge of the cavern, into which we immediately de-
scended by the help of three ladders, and then found ourselves in a
large natural ice-house.

It was a hot August day, and about noon, when we arrived here ;
and the sudden transition from the burning sun to the cold chilly
cavern was very delightful, and lent, perhaps, a favourable colouring
to the scene before us. We had descended about forty feet, and
entered, by a vertical and rather chimney-shaped aperture, a regular
and extensive cavern, of which the walls and flooring were of clear,
solid, and excellent ice, forming beautiful stalactites and stalagmites,
grouped in all kinds of fanciful and grotesque positions. The thick-
ness of ice was extremely great, greater, indeed, in most parts, than
could be calculated ; but the roof was of bare rock, and exposed the
geological structure of the cavern. It was formed along the line of

AND THE JURA. 33

an anticlinal axis in the limestone of which the Jura chain is com-
posed; and on one side the stratum was bent round so as to make a
fine natural arch, the north and south direction of the axis coinciding
nearly with the vertical wall to the west. The ice was exceedingly
well preserved, there being only a small pool of water in one corner ;
and the amount was not perceptibly diminished, although it had been
pretty freely used for nearly three months. There was quite suffici-
ent light from above to show everything within with the utmost clear-
ness, so that the disagreeable and smoky necessity of torches was
avoided.

Having indulged our curiosity, and finding the guide of so little
use, we started off without him in the direction of our destination,
that is, eastward ; and, trusting to compass and map, entered boldly
into the labyrinth of a vast and magnificent pine forest, full of un-
even and rocky ground, and sheltering in its recesses many wolves
and bears, although, as it was summer, we did not much dread com-
ing in contact with such animals. However, on we went; and hav-
ing traversed the forest for some distance, observed a large and
isolated rock, rising suddenly and boldly before us. By the help of
our sticks and some half-grown trees, we managed to reach a flat
surface on the top, covered with noble pines and other trees, toge-
ther with abundance of brushwood ; and then, proceeding a Iittle
way, discovered that we were within a couple of yards of a sudden
precipice, which was perpendicular for a hundred and fifty or
two hundred feet, and gave a magnificent cowp d’wil of the bound-
less forest which stretched out in all directions before us. Here
and there jutted out a mountain mass like that on which we
stood, whose bare vertical sides refused to be the resting-place of a
tree. All else was one dark mass of vegetable life, and the effect
was singularly interesting and grand.

We retraced our steps, descending by the same tree which had
helped us to ascend, and which seemed the only approach to this sin-
gular plateau ; and after a long and difficult descent, and much walk-
ing in the direction our compass pointed out, we found a road, which
led across another mountain, and through another forest, until we
came out upon the great plain of the valley of Switzerland, not far
from the village of Biere, where we dined; and afterwards confined
our journeying towards Lausanne to the high roads, which present
little more interest here than in other countries where the _pic-
turesque and the romantic are not so common. Thus ended my

VOL, X., NO. XXVIII. 5

34 RAMBLES IN WESTERN SWITZERLAND

first trip to the Jura. It was a most delightful one to myself, and
I shall be well satisfied if I have communicated any of the amuse-
ment to my reader.

CHAPTER Ii.

Enewiish ScENERY.—MeEx.—Cossonex.—-AscENT oF THE JURA.—
SupDDEN CHANGE oF ScENERY.—THE DesEert.—First View or
THE Lac pE Jovux.—LEe Pont.—Tue Lac pre Joux.—Lac bE
BreNET.—VALLORBE, THE VALLEY AND VILLAGE.—JOUGNE.

Ir was about a month after my return to Lausanne from the little
expedition narrated in the preceding chapter, that I again bent my
steps to the western mountains ; and I did so, resolved to explore in
a wilder district, and to give more time to the various points of inter-
est that might present themselves. Even then, however, I was
sadly hurried, and missed much that well deserved examination, al-
though I certainly saw a great deal, both of Switzerland and the
Swiss, which travellers in general have carelessly and even supercili-
ously passed by. On starting, I took the road to the north-west,
which leads by several small villages to Cossonex, near which place
there is an abrupt and considerable ascent; and the rest of the route,
as far as the Jura, is upon the high ridge of sand hills running pa-
rallel to the mountain chain, and terminating towards the south at the
Signal of Bougy, concerning which enough has already been said.

Almost immediately on leaving Lausanne every vestige of houses
is lost sight of, and the scenery strikingly resembles the very prettiest
and quietest met with in the middle of England. Were it not, in-
deed, for the Savoy mountains still visible in the distance, the illusion
would be complete ; for the few vineyards to be seen give one quite
the idea of hop-gardens, and the rest of the ground, covered with
waving corn-fields and beautiful orchards, or dotted here and there
with rich clover and smiling meadow land, is all neatly enclosed with
quickset hedges, and covers the gentle slope ofa most English-like hill.
Really the effect of a few miles of this agreeable home-scenery makes
one enjoy yet more the rich contrast presented when the noble and
majestic mountains form, as they usually do, an important feature in
the landscape.

As I had not started very early, I found it expedient to halt at a

AND THE JURA. 35

small village between two and three leagues from Lausanne, and pay
a visit to a little road-side public-house, where I made an early dinner
of ham, bread and cheese, and wine. While I was conning over my
map preparatory to these being put on the table, the good landlady
paused in her occupation to assist in the examination ; and I regret to
say that the map-maker fell grievously under her displeasure, for he
had omitted to insert this her birth-place among the villages and
towns of Switzerland. It was very amusing to see the_earnest but
ineffectual search of three or four people who happened to be present,
and who left their wine to examine in all parts and in every canton,
under the impression that the name of the village (Mex) could not
be absolutely omitted, but must have been misplaced. However,
after about half an hour they gave it up in despair, and I went on my
way, leaving them to digest the disappointment and rail at my map at
their leisure. I dare say it formed the subject of conversation for.
many a day, until some election of a deputy, or unfavourable news
from France, gave a new turn to their curious enquiries.

The country continues pretty well cultivated and rather tame for
some miles, until at a sudden turn, and crossing a small river, we .
come in sight of the town of Cossonex, which I have already alluded
to as placed on a ridge of highish sand hills parallel with the Jura
chain. The first view of this place, its pretty spire, and one or two
houses showing themselves from amidst a mass of trees which crown
the summit of the ridge, is very picturesque and striking.

The ascent is sudden, and seems almost precipitous for perhaps a
couple of hundred feet; but it is probably owing entirely to the irre-
gular action of water wearing away, on one side, the almost incohe-
rent sand of which this and most of the hills of the middle of Swit-
zerland are formed.

The town of Cossonex is not remarkable, nor is the road between
it and Cuarnens. After leaving the latter place, however, we come
within sight of Mont Tendre, one of the highest of the Jura moun-
tains, and before long begin to ascend the rather steep sides of the
pass between that mountain and the Dent de Vaution, which forms
the northern, as. Mont Tendre does the eastern, limit of the Lac de
Joux. It was not till two hours after leaving Cuarnens that I
reached the highest part of the pass; but the walk, though long and
rather laborious, amply repaid me in the number of beautiful views
across the great valley, which seemed to increase in richness and
luxuriance as I gradually became more and more elevated above the
surrounding country. It was interesting to see the distant snowy

36 RAMBLES IN WESTERN SWITZERLAND

mountains successively elevating their broad shoulders above the hori-
zon, until at length the whole chain became visible from the Moléson
and other mountains in the canton of Freyburg, to the Savoy
mountains, presenting towards the south-east splendid and very
characteristic views of those two giants, the Dent de Midi and
the Dent de Morcles,* which stand as sentinels, obliged, indeed,
to allow the waters of the Rhone a free passage, but frowning
upon, and threatening, as it were, with instant destruction, any bold
intruder who may venture to prosecute his wayward fancies, and at-
tempt to trace here the history of the now calm and-uniform, monet
once fearfully disturbed, course of nature.

And then it was not less interesting to let the eye dwell upon the
rich and charming tract of cultivated land extending between the lakes
of Neuchatel and Geneva, and abutting directly against the highly
inclined strata of the mountain I was scaling. The bird’s eye view
of this portion of the valley, when seen in comparison with real
mountains, presented the appearance only of a vast plain, with a chain
of low hills running N.E. and S.W., and here and there a small se-
ries of undulations, just sufficent to take away the character of mono-
tony that might otherwise have belonged to it.

It will easily be conceived that scenery so varied and extensive, so
rich in all that constitutes the riches of a country, and yet so noble
and majestic in the distant prospect, could not be unattractive. Many,
indeed, were the long lingering looks which I cast behind me as the
shades of evening gradually closed in, and the broad, deep, and
lengthening shadow of the huge mountain before me made the inter-
mediate valley dark and gloomy, and threw out with greater distinct-
ness the outline of the distant elevations, whose snowy summits were
becoming tinged with the rosy hue which marks a Swiss sunset.

By the time that I arrived at the top of the pass the sun had quite
disappeared, and was succeeded by the moon, which, being at the
full, poured forth a flood of light and glory, causing it to be almost
too bright for the eye to gaze on without pain. Then, too, the sce-
nery entirely and quite suddenly changed, in a manner as unexpected
as it was striking. I will endeavour to give some idea of the new
view which presented itself, both because it was in itself most beauti-

* The valley of the Rhone, after a long course to the south-west, turns
suddenly and at right angles to the north-west at Martigny, and passes be-
tween these two singular mountains in the only break that occurs between
Mont Blanc and the Oberland Alps.

AND THE JURA. 37

ful, and also because it was characteristic of the range of mountains
‘among which it occurred.

In rising to the highest part of the pass, of course all prospect of
the country beyond and to the west was cut off; and, as I have al-
ready intimated, it was by turning occasionally to look upon the mid-
dle and east of Switzerland, that the beautiful and interesting views
were obtained. As soon, however, as the ridge had been passed, all
this to the east was immediately lost sight of, and the scenery was
that of the Jura, of its mountains and valleys, its heights clothed with
lofty pines, and its precipitous masses bare, naked, and wild, and
sternly defying all the efforts of vegetation. The change, conse-
quently, was as complete as could well be. From gazing on the smil-
ing valley and waving corn-fields, the eye rested on vast masses of
dark and gloomy forest scenery, only here and there enlivened by a
bold crag, or, at the most, by a few acres of pasture land. Such is
the general character of the greater part of the Jura; but there is
always some striking feature, some commanding object, upon which
the eye of the traveller fastens with avidity, and which gives an
identity to any particular spot, and induces a feeling of attachment
and (if I may so say) friendliness to a view of wild nature not easily
forgotten in subsequent wanderings, and amid the contemplation of
scenery which would generally be considered more magnificent.

In the view which presented itself on coming fairly within the
limits of the Jura range at this point, the principal object was a noble
isolated mountain to the right, rearing its lofty head in solitary gran-
deur to the clouds, and causing the hitherto direct path to wind and
wander about, and again ascend after a long descent, giving in its nu-
merous contortions a succession of noble prospects. At length,
at a sudden turn, the whole is lost sight of ; and we emerge upon a
broken, hilly ground, completely different in character, and possess-
ing the features of desert rather than of mountain scenery.

I did not long remain in this comparatively uninteresting track,
necessarily pursued by those travellers who trust not to their own
legs; for having fallen in with some country people who were going
to one of the small villages on the Lac de Joux, I was initiated by
them into the mysteries of a cross road, if road, indeed, that might
be called which was marked only by an innumerable multitude of
loose stones and rocks, brought down by some torrent rushing with
uncontrollable violence, and tearing away everything in its resistless
course. Following, however, this primitive path scooped out by na-
ture’s own hand, and occupying great part of a singular rocky gorge,

38 RAMBLES IN WESTERN SWITZERLAND

with lofty perpendicular walls of naked limestone on each side, and
picking our way over this singular and rather uneven pavement, we
went on for some distance ; and I do not remember to have seen a
more wild, desolate, and irreclaimable spot, or one so utterly destitute
of all appearance of life or animation. In a moment, however, and
from the midst of all this desolation, on coming to a particular point,
there was a small opening, and a scene presented itself, with almost
magical effect, of a small but placid lake embosomed among the
mountains, a few little villages sprinkled here and there on its green
banks, and with occasionally a few forest trees clothing the steep as-
cent of the mountain sides, but all calm and peaceful, and contrasting
most delightfully with the wild savage desert from which we had just
emerged. In descending to the head of the lake this view was lost
sight of for a time, but again appeared glittering in the silver light of
the moon, and with a few solitary lamps in the cottage windows pret»
tily reflected from the calm waters, I had arrived at the “Lac de
Joux.” I was not long in finding a pleasant comfortable inn at the
village of “Le Pont” at the head of the lake, and there I took up
my abode for the night, much regretting that I could not spend days
in exploring the beauties of this neighbourhood.

The position of the Lac de Joux, enclosed on all sides by conside-
rable mountains, and itself nearly three thousand five hundred feet
above the level of the sea, is as romantic and singular as it is beauti-
ful. Its shape is oblong, being about five miles in. length by one in
breadth ; and there is a continuation to the north, by means of a kind
of marsh, with another and a much smaller piece of water, called the
Lae de Brenet. Besides these two, there is a third much smaller
one, situated to the west, which, however, is scarcely more than a
pool, and is not connected with either lake. The little village called
Le Pont (probably from the bridge which crosses the junction of the
two lakes) is placed exactly between them, and at the foot of a moun-
tain of about five thousand feet in height, which is separated, by a very
narrow and extremely wild gorge, from another mountain to the west.
The Mont Tendre, the highest of the Jura range, shuts in the sce-
nery to the east; and thus one seems to be completely lost, and quite
excluded from all intercourse with the world. But, as I have already
observed, the scenery is not less beautiful than it is romantic.
Standing between the lakes, and looking towards the south, we see on
the left a frowning and barren mountain rising almost precipitately,
and only occasionally showing a vestige of life in the stunted grass
which here and there has planted itself. At a greater height, how-

AND THE JURA. 39

ever, there is a belt of pines, and then at the top all is desolation.
This wildness, however, is only a required contrast to the rich verdure
which clothes the western banks. On this side the ground is broken
and irregular, occasionally jutting out some distance into the lake, and
then receding to form a little bay or creek ; now rising boldly and
nakedly from the water’s edge, and then gradually swelling in a gen-
tle rise to the more distant and less lofty hills to the right. On this
side, too, there was no want either of cultivation or natural beauty.
Forest trees in abundance were there, and their dark green was
relieved by a few cultivated patches belonging to the pretty isolated
cottages, or the two or three scattered villages which might be dis-
tinguished on the hill side, or so near the lake as to be seen reflected
in its calm waters.

Passing through the village of Le Pont, and without crossing the
bridge, I soon found a foot path leading along the right bank of the
more northern of the two lakes, and so by the gorge already spoken of,
and to be hereafter described, into the Vallorbe, which lay in my in-
tended route towards a French frontier town called Jougne ; and I feel
more than ever how completely language is at fault, in attempting to
give some idea of the first two or three leagues of my morning’s
walk through this charming district. The strange and sudden alter-
ation from the bleak and forbidding aspect which at first charac-
terises the mountains on the east, to a vast forest of pines rising quite
abruptly from the little lake, and stretching away in that direction as
far as the eye could reach—the contrast of these dark and sombre
masses with the mellowing and autumnal tints of a considerable
extent of forest trees on the opposite banks—the effect of a few small
but well-built white cottages on that side—the extraordinary closing
in of the mountains in front—and the curious appearance of a mist
which then hung over the foot of the lake, and was occasionally
lifted as a curtain, presenting glimpses of the country beyond, until
at length it rolled away and vanished from the sight—all these se-
veral elements of beauty united, and acting upon the buoyant spirits
which health, strength, and a fine cool September morning will
give, produced an impression upon the mind too pleasing to be easily
or soon forgotten, and which I would wish, were it possible, to
communicate to my readers, that they might enjoy some of the
beauties of this most interesting part of a most interesting country.

On leaving behind me the sweet lake of Brenet, I entered
almost directly a very narrow ravine, so completely overrun with
pines of various heights and ages, that I could only occasion-

40 RAMBLES IN WESTERN SWITZERLAND

ally catch a glimpse of the perpendicular walls of naked rock, which
rose within a few yards on either side. Proceeding onwards almost
in the dark, from the abundance of wood, I soon found that the
path began to descend very rapidly, and at length came to a spot
from which another valley branched off, and a mountain was seen
turning aside from the direction which I had been following. At
this point I came into the valley of the Orbe, a river whose source
is not far from hence, and which soon turns towards the east into
the widening valley, and, after running for about twenty miles,
empties itself into the lake of Neuchatel, near the town of Yverdon.

That part of the Vallorbe which I traversed seemed to be remark-
able not more for the wild and almost savage character of the sce-
nery near the source of the river, and before the sudden bend to the
east, than for the singular and pleasing manner in which this sa-
vage grandeur changed to romantic beauty, and that, again, to the
very different appearance of a rather wide, rich, and well-cultivated
valley, enclosed’ by hills, which gradually become less remark.
able as they recede, and which, before many miles, have lost all
pretensions to wildness or magnificence. Indeed, the narrowness of
the ravine, the sudden appearance of an impassable barrier in front,
the noise of a not very distant waterfall, and a variety of assisting
circumstances, all help to produce a striking effect on the tra-
veller, which effect is increased by the obscurity and gloom of an
exuberance of vegetable life clothing the steep ascents on each side,
and precluding all view, except that of the mixed wildness and
beauty characterising the immediate spot on which he stands.

After a while, on reaching the apparent termination of this nar-
row ravine, there is a range of rocky and perpendicular eminences
running towards the north-east ; and here the broken path, which
had hitherto served as a rather obscure guide, conducted me to an
excellent road coming from the west, and serving as a means of
communication between some of the smaller frontier towns of
France and the south-west of Switzerland. I followed the road for
a short distance, as it wound about in a serpentine course, to dimi-
nish the rather precipitous nature of the descent; but, soon getting
tired of such regular travelling, struck off by a little narrow path,
and endeavoured to descend at once into the valley. I succeeded,
although not without considerable difficulty, and even some danger ;
and by letting myself drop occasionally where I saw a flat project-
ing terrace below, I at last managed to reach the river, and then,
indeed, was amply repaid for my labour by looking up the
narrow and singular cleft which the noisy stream had, perhaps,

AND THE JURA, 4]

partly worn out of the limestone rock. The grey perpendicular
wall to the south, worn and blackened by long exposure to ele-
mental warfare, reminded me forcibly of the scars of our Yorkshire
and Westmoreland hills, but are on a far grander scale than even
the finest of these. Owing to the sudden turn which the river is
forced to make, only a small part of its course is seen here, and even
much that might be visible, and does make itself appreciated by one
of the senses (that of hearing), is quite hidden from the eye by most
luxuriant vegetation, covering every spot upon which a square yard
of earth can find lodgment. So completely is this the case, that a
large tree often seems to hang almost in the air, its roots being im-
bedded, as it were, in the very rock itself, and so bidding defiance
to the accidents of tempest and the attacks of man.

When I had once descended to the noisy and troubled river, it
required only that I should follow it in its course to return soon to
the road from which I had diverged. Once more in the direct .
route, I soon reached the village of Vallorbe ; but by this time the
valley had ceased to be romantic, and, although still pretty, pre-
sents nothing very remarkable in its widening expanse. The vil-
lage, however, is one so entirely Swiss, and so very picturesque,
as well at a distance as when viewed in detail, that I must just al-
lude to it en passant. The houses are, as usual, square, with the
roof projecting very much, so as to shelter completely from the wea-
ther the galleries running round the exterior on the first floor, and
- the staircases, which are also outside the house. Wood seems the
only building material ; for not only were the walls made of it, but
even the shelving roof was covered entirely with wooden tiles, if
one may so call the oblong thin boards laid one over another, and
forming an admirable and waterproof covering. Each house is
separated from the rest by a greater or less space, according to its
importance ; and although there was a degree of regularity, and the
whole made something like a street, yet this seemed rather the ef-
fect of accident than intention, so absolutely independent did each
building appear to be of all the rest. The church, a plain brick edi-
fice, stood apart, and overlooked the small family of whose members
it, doubtless, formed the effectual bond of union.

After passing this pretty village I left the valley, and crossed its
northern boundary by a pass of no great elevation or interest ; and
after traversing another valley, naked and barren, and only charac-
terised by some iron founderies, which did not possess attraction for
me, I arrived at the foot of a hill, on the top of which stands the
French frontier town of Jougne. As this town lay in my road, I

VOL. X., NO. XXVIII. 6

42 RAMBLES IN WESTERN SWITZERLAND, &c.

soon scaled the steep and fortified lines, which make the place
important as a military position; and as soon as I reached the top,
and had entered the gate of the town, was stopped by a sentinel
perched in a little box overlooking the pathway, and my knapsack
was immediately taken off and overhauled with the most praisewor-
thy attention and minuteness. I know not whether it was that
searching was an amusement rarely enjoyed, or whether there
appeared something contraband in’my looks or manner, but certainly
never was the operation of turning every thing inside out so assidu-
ously performed. Even a little morsel of soap in a paper, and the
insides of a pair of shoes, were examined ; and, to crown all, my
note-book was untied and opened, although, indeed, its contents
were—being in English—held sacred. When all this had been
done, and that, too, on the steps of the guard-house, I was marched
off in state, by one of the'gens d’armes, to M. le Commandant, who,
after arranging my passport, became rather communicative, and
shéwed me various curiosities which he had discovered in his pre-
sent dull quarters. One of them.was, I think, the very finest me-
dal of Julius Cesar I have ever seen ; and he had, besides this, se-
veral other coins and medals, and a few fossils. I soon quitted
Jougne, and was glad to escape from it ; for I never have seen any
place so absolutely stagnant, or one which seemed to want so en-
tirely every vestige of life and animation. With the exception of
half .a dozen women talking together near the gate, and the two
soldiers whe amused themselves with my baggage, there was not
another human being to be seen in passing through the principal
street at mid-day ; and as for shops, there seemed to be none, or at
least what there were appeared empty of goods as well as customers.
But if the place is dull, its situation is certainly sufficient to account
for any degree of dullness, however great. Placed on the summit
of a hill, and commanding an extensive view of bleak and sterile
waste in every direction, the eye can rest on no pleasing or interest-
ing object ; for there is not a trace of civilization, and scarcely even
a vestige of life, animate or inanimate. |

It is true that, even from the very extent of desolation, there
arises an idea of sublimity ; and the mind is filled with the contem-
plation of lofty mountains, and a considerable extent of country, upon
which the ‘sun in-vain sheds his kindly influence, and the clouds
drop no fatness ; but this negative sublimity fatigues even while it
produces ‘its effect, and one is glad. to hurry over such parts, and
hasten to others where beauty is at least ‘present, if it does not pre-
ponderate over grandeur.

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 43

For many miles beyond J ougne, the general character of the sce.
nery continues, however, wild-and desolate. Passing round to the
west of a’ lofty and very remarkable mountain, the Aiguille de
Baulmes, I entered a vast forest inhabited by many charcoal burn-
ers, where large fires, and the cleared spaces which had provided the
material for those fires, struck me as an interesting novelty, though
I was rather in danger of being lost, by mistaking some of their
numerous paths for my own road. I managed, however, to succeed
in getting through the forest, and then made my way across the
country by compass till I came to a few houses, after which I
had no difficulty in reaching the village or town of St. Croix,
which is situated oddly at the extremity or eastern end of a valley,
whose narrow commencement by a ravine, opening imperceptibly
into the wilder country to the west, I had entered, and almost
reached the end of, before I was aware that marks of civilization
were so near me. The town of St. Croix is large, straggling, and
modern, and hardly deserving of much attention. It is the last
town ‘to the north in the Canton of Vaud ; and having conducted
my reader thus far, I will postpone to another chapter my journey-
ings in the adjoining Canton of Neuchatel:

i al B.S

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN tenia hanreea HESTORY:
By EpWwARD Bayan.
No. L—THE HYENA GROUP. .

VALUABLE as are the scapisiia’ characters afforded by the den-
tition of the Mammalia, there yet requires some judgment and
discrimination in applying them to the grand purpose of philosophi-
cal classification, such as should accurately express the affinities, or
degrees of physiological relationship, which different genera bear to
each other ; inasmuch as a close similitude in the dental characters
subsists occasionally without indicating any particular affinity, and
a very considerable amount of diversity also obtains, in some in-
stances, between genera that are, notwithstanding, proximately, and
even intimately, allied together.

44 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

We find this remarkably illustrated in the small group, of the
value of a sub-family, which we have selected as affording an in-
teresting subject with which to commence the present series of
Sketches on the Natural History of the Vertebrata, wherein we
propose to investigate the characters on which various groups of
animals are founded, and more particularly those of the genera and
higher divisions which appear to stand forth in an isolated manner
from the rest, in consequence of the distinctive features of confor-
mation characteristic of the immediately superior group, to which
they naturally appertain, merging, in some instances, almost to
obliteration, in extensive adaptive modifications having reference to
some particular habit.

In order that we should be here duly understood, it is, perhaps,
necessary to premise, that, although the entire series of Vertebrata,
and, to a certain extent, the whole animal kingdom, may be ulti-
mately referred to one general type or single universal plan of or-
ganization, more or less developed, and variously modified in dif-
ferent classes. of beings, yet it must not be supposed, with some
authors even of celebrity, but principally those who neglect to study
the internal conformation of beings, that the systematic arrange-
ment of animals is founded on arbitrary lines of demarcation, like
the meridians of longitude and parallels of latitude traced on a globe
or map ; that, in truth, there are no real divisions, except those of
species ; and that, consequently, the efforts of systematists must
necessarily be frivolous and futile, when they endeavour to define
rigorously the boundaries of their several groups and successive di-
visions, which are supposed to pass insensibly into each other by a
concatenation of intermediate forms, an unbroken series of gradations.

That such is most assuredly not the case, a moment’s reflection
on the four comprehensive grand divisions established by Cuvier, of
Vertebrata, Mollusca, Articulata, and Radiata, might suffice to in-
timate; inasmuch as these could never have been so definitely
determined, the multitude of intervening links which such an hypo-
thesis necessarily implies being utterly at variance with the suppo-
sition. Not but that certain organisms have been adduced as con-
stituting bonds of connection between these primary embranche-
ments, but only on a superficial’ apprehension of their intrinsic
characters: for instance, the approximate obliteration of the verte-
brated column in the lowest cyclostomatous fishes, has induced some
authors to regard these as intermediate to the Vertebrata and Mol-
lusca ; while an analogous link, or tendency on the part of a
molluscous animal to assume the vertebrated sub-type of organiza-

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 45

tion, has been supposed to be afforded by certain of the higher Ce-
phalopods, as the Cuttles, which internally deposit a quantity of
earthy matter (the well-known cuttle-fish bone of commerce). But
it should be borne in mind that the establishment of these leading
divisions of the animal kingdom reposes ultimately on the nervous
system, the confluent masses of which are disposed altogether dif-
ferently in the Vertebrata and Mollusca ; and that, in this most
important and influential portion of their organization, both the
Cyclostomata and Cephalopoda rigidly conform to their respective
sub-regnal models of formation, the former merely presenting what
is comparatively termed an arrested development, the latter a more
complete development than usual. The distribution of the princi-
pal aggregations of neurine, or nervous proximate element essential
and peculiar to animal organization, thus determines apart the three
divisions of Vertebrata, Mollusca, and Articulata, with unerring cer-
titude ; and it remains to be shown that in this fundamental charac-
ter, to which all others are subservient, a transition from one to
another of these primary sub-types of form, or an intermediate or-
ganism, exists in any one instance: but we do not attach the same
importance to those simply positive and negative characters upon
which physiologists have hitherto attempted to dismember the Ra-
diata of Cuvier into analogous divisions, if only because they do
pass into each other, as might be predicated from the nature of the
difference ; their distinction consisting merely in the degrees of de-
velopment traceable in several different minor groups, from the
diffusion of the various proximate elements of the body in a homo-
geneous ‘pulp, to their gradual separation into tissues more or less
discernible. Analogy with the three first great divisions should
indicate that if equivalent types of form exist among the Radiata,
their integrity would be as constantly maintained in every species
respectively framed upon them.

We may, indeed, fairly waive the consideration of the miscelia-
neous assemblage of beings of inferior organization, provisionally
brought together under the term Radiata, if the position for which
we strenuously contend can be satisfactorily established with respect
to the three higher grand divisions of the animal kingdom, the mu-
tual relations of the component members of which are tolerably un-
derstood; and proceed next to remark that neither of the four
classes into which the Vertebrata are divided grade into each other,
any more than those superior groups on which we have been com-
menting, each being distinct in itself, so that no one species is
referred to either of them with the slightest hesitation ; or if, in

46 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

some very few cases, as that of the Ornithorhynchus, an, idea once
prevailed that the essential characters of two classes were combined,
it required only more accurate information and increased knowledge
of the animal entirely to dispel the-illusion, and to destroy altoge-
ther the fabulous and mistaken data upon which .it was vainly
asserted, for a while, by some credulous and. superficial writers, to
hold a dubious or mediate station.* | Descending, however, in: the
scale, as the groups successively decrease in value, and consequently
present less strongly-marked differences, it’ oftentimes becomes pro-
portionally difficult to state their distinctive characters in general
terms, to define them with precision and brevity, even though a
practised ken may at once recognise them: it» being on a combina-
tion of many characters that all natural groups are aggregated, the
majority of which, but not necessarily the whole, are present in every
comprised species; whence it commonly happens that different of
these characters disappear in turn ; so that (even in obvious groups)
there may: be none of general applications Any one character,
therefore, which is peculiar to a group, or in so far peculiar that
it does not occur in any proximate division, if applicable to all
the members of that group—(which .is very frequently the case, as
natural groups, however low in the series, are apt to possess such
characters)—acquires much value as a means of ready discrimina-

* It may be proper to remark here that we are quite aware of the import-
ant negative relations which the Ovoviviparous Mammalia collectively—viz.
the Marsupiata and Monotremaia of Cuvier—bear to the Oviparous Vertebrata
collectively, as opposed to the ordinary or Placental Mammalia... In the
structure of the brain, for instance, the hemispheres of which are connected by
a corpus callosum only in the Placental Mammalia (as recently. ascertained by
Professor Owen), there being no trace of this in the Ovoviviparous sub-class
of Mammalia, any more than in the three Oviparous classes, while it is almos
equally developed throughout the Placental sub-class; in the Beaver propor:
tionally as much as in Man. Accordingly, then, there is no gradual linking
from one to the other of these two great primary groups of Mammalia in the
particular specified, any more than in various other characters unnecessary
to detail ; and we are led to recognise, therefore, a dichotomous sub-division of
the class, analogous to that of the Reptilia into Ordinary and Batrachian
Reptiles, or, in other words, two separate subordinate types of conformation,
which do not pass into each other, and the inferior of which is less elevated
above the Oviparous classes than the other. In like manner; the Ovovivipa-
rous sub-class rigorously sub-divides into the orders Marsupiata and Monotre-
mata of Cuvier, the latter of which is again less highly organized than the
other; and upon this negative principle is reduced to bear a still closer re-
semblance to the Oviparous classes generally, as particularly observable in
the simplicity of the construction of the internal ear, &c.

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 47

tion, and so of precluding the necessity of any tedious circumlocution
in rendering a specification of the exceptionable characters, even
although, considered ina physiological point of view, it may be of
trivial ‘or unappreciable, importance, From this actual want of
physiological importance may, indeed, sometimes arise the constancy
of such characters, which thus remain to-indicate the obscured affi:
nities of aberrant-species, or those which deviate: in ‘other respects
from the ordinary: collective characters of their group, in conse-
quence of secondary modifications (to be explained: presently) havin ng
reference to some. particular mode of life.

There are: numerous groups, however, of all degrees of value,
even the lowest assemblages of species, of which the integrity is
conspicuously manifest, and the definition easy. Such groups, no
matter how subordinate; may comprehend an immense number of
species ; and (to:proceed now to the main difficulty of arriving at a
sound classification) these species: may be variously modified upon
the same:especial type, in adaptation to very different modes of life,
so that, ona cursory view, their mutual affinity may not be apparent,
the more especially as analogous modifications not ‘unfrequently.
occur of different types, the species exhibiting which display, in con-
sequence, much superficial resemblance, greater, of course, in pro-
portion as the: minor types on which they are respectively organized
are more nearly allied together: thus, the analogous modifications
of two ordinal types of the same class resemble each other, of neces-
sity, more extensively than those of two different classes, &c. ‘This
latter apparent, but unintrinsical, similitude, is 5 at ape Py the
term analogy, as opposed to affinity.

But few of those extraordinary species of animals, which, at first
sight, appear to be most widely removed. from all others; are framed
on an especial sub-type,: or cognizable subordinate model of con-
struction, of more than generic systematic value ; being simply mo-
difications of the same particular type on which certain other
animals are organized, the exclusive characters of which are trace-
able on analytical scrutiny. Thus, the Giraffe is essentially a:mo-
dified: Deer, with persistent horns; the Flamingo a modified La-
mellirostral bird; or member of the Goose tribe, ‘as intimated by its
whole anatomy, internal :as well as external. Man himself displays
the same peculiar conformation as the three genera of Apes ( Trog-
gp Satyrus, and Hylobates),* but aunt: modified for

xs ‘These alone, of all the ihdontia animals, have the liver divided as in
Man, a vermiform appendage to the coecum, a similar hyoid bone, &c. We

48 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

exclusively ground habits, a perfectly erect attitude, and the other
attributes of humanity, wherein the different form and great deve-
lopment of his lower limbs may be resolved, together with other
analogous variations. Even his amazingly developed brain is
merely a difference in degree, a further carrying out of the same
relative disparity which is observable in the brain of the Dog as
compared with that of the Rabbit ; not a difference of organic struc-
ture, acquired by the superaddition of component parts, such as is
exemplified in the brains of all the Placental Mammalia, as com-
pared with those of the rest of the Vertebrata. According to M.
Geoffroy, “the brain of a young Ourang bears a very close simili-
tude to that of a child ; and the skull, also, might be taken, at an
early age, for that of the latter, were it not for the development of
the bones of the face. But it happens,” continues that profound
anatomist, “in consequence of its advance in age, that the brain
ceases to enlarge, while its case continually increases. ‘The latter
becomes thickened, but in an unequal degree ; enormous bony ridges
appear, and the animal assumes a frightful aspect. When we com-
pare the effects of age in Man and the Ourang, the difference is seen
to be, that, in the latter, there is a superdevelopment of the osseous,
muscular, and tegumentary systems, more towards the upper part
than the lower, while the development of the brain is earlier ar-
rested.” The vis formativa simply. takes a different direction, in
order to develope the mechanism required to employ effectively the
huge permanent canines ; whence the organ and function of intelli-
gence remain stationary at their transient condition in the child,

but modified, of course, by the completion and agency of the i incen-
tives incidental to maturity.

To pursue this subject further, on the present occasion, would
be irrelevant ; but we may nevertheless venture to remark, that,
consistently with the nature of those differences of physical confor-
mation which the bodily frame of Man offers when compared with
those of the restricted Apes (and indeed the rest of the Quadru-
mana, Cuv.), we can perceive no sufficient reason for distinguishing
him as a separate order—Bimana, as opposed to Quadrumana ; in-
asmuch as—however considerable may be the amount of those
secondary or adaptive modifications which his structure so conspi-

recognise two other equivalent sub-types among the Catarrhina (Geof.), viz.
that constituted by the two genera Semnopithecus and Colobus, and that by
the remainder, or the sub-divisions Cercopithecus, Cercocebus, Macacus, Inuus,
and Cynocephalus ; each of these three higher divisions presenting exclusive
characters, unnecessary to detail here.

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 49

cuously exhibits—even these have assuredly far less comprehensive
influence on the entire organism, than the-analogous modifications _
which the Seals, among the Carnivora (to select one of a multitude
of instances), present in reference to their particular sphere of action ;
and we are indisposed to concede that equivalent groups are ever
simple modifications of each other, a circumstance which implies
their non-distinctness, or unity as a special higher group, that can-
not be dismembered upon such a principle, to whatever extent it
may admit of sub-division. Conformably, then, with these premises,
we hold the zoological station of Man to be as follows: after ad-
mitting him, as all must necessarily agree to do, into the kingdom
and sub-kingdom Animalia Vertebrata, and class and sub-class
Mammalia Vivipara or Placentalia, we conceive it necessary (omit-
ting two succeeding gradations in the descending scale, as requiring
a page or two of explanation) to include him among the Cheiropoda
—or Bimana and Quadrumana, Cuv. united—then among the first
of three divisions of the Cheiropoda indicated by M. Geoffroy, viz.
the Catarrhina, Platyrrhina, and Strepsirrhina ; and, finally, in
the first of three sub-divisions of the Catarrhina, consisting only of
Man and the Apes, where we deem the genus Homo to be of equal
systematic value with the three other genera or sub-genera (of the
Chimpanzee, Ourangs, and Gibbons) collectively. Indeed, it may
fairly be interrogated where, throughout the systema nature, does
another instance occur of any genera so nearly allied, in total con-
formation, as Man is to the Chimpanzee and Ourangs, which genera
are placed by modern physiologists in distinct orders ?*

* It is gratuitous to suppose that by these remarks, which may be re-
solved into a simple statement of facts, we seek to degrade the human race
intellectually, as some very sensitive readers may be apt to imagine: all
that we have endeavoured to shew is, that, as concerns the zoological system,
which reposes on physical structure only, and the consequent physiological
relations of different species of beings, the human subject presents a mere
modification of the same particular minor sub-type, as that upon which the
Apes only are besides organized ; the latter presenting the more ordinary or
normal developments proper to the major group Cheiropoda, from which Man
alone remarkably deviates, in consequence of a general adaptation to very
peculiar habits and requirements, just as, in a less degree, the Giraffe differs
from the rest of the Deer group, and from all the other horned Ruminants,
in obvious reference to less anomalous peculiar habits. It being ordained, in
brief, that a creature of flesh and blood should fulfil man’s mundane destiny,
such a creature was accordingly produced by modifying the particular model
of construction of the Vertebrata generally, and of the Apes among the Pla-
cental Mammalia especially ; wherefore, we contend that, as Man is admitted
among the Vertebrata in the system of zoological arrangement, so also is it

VOL. X., NO. XXVIII, 7

50 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

It is difficult to avoid digressing when treating on systematic na-
tural history, as every statement requires its proof, which may in-
volve the discussion of miscellanéous topics. We might next pro-
eeed to notice the excessive irregularity of groups of equal value,
as shown by every conceivable mode of variation ; viz. with respect
to the number of species they may severally comprise, or may have
comprised during former epochs of the earth’s history ; the number
of separate minor types they may comprehend, which bears no pro-
portion to that of species; also the amount of adaptive modification
they may respectively exhibit, which again is equally indefinite,
both as regards the number of species and sub-typical forms; and,
lastly, the distribution of them in the horizontal as well as vertical
series, which can as little be reduced to rule or proposition, some
extensively represented types being strictly confined to particular
regions or periods of time, while others are in either respect, or both,
of general diffusion, or they are circumscribed at the present era,
though formerly spread over a wide area, &c.* But, reserving
these various subjects for future comment in the pages of The Ana-
lyst, we will close the present introductory remarks, into which we
have almost unconsciously been led, by exemplifying the analogous
modification of diverse types, or the relation of what is currently
termed analogy, as distinguished from affinity. A remarkable illus-
tration of this superficial similitude, induced by the correspondency
of the adaptive modifications in reference to habit, such as occasions
the Cetacea to assume the outside form of fishes, while they retain
every essential characteristic of their class (Mammalia), is afforded
in the class of birds, by the familiarly-known genera of the Swifts
and the Swallows, which almost every systematist (and, we believe,
without exception, every British systematist) has erred in placing
together in zoological classification. The two genera in question
are alike modified for seeking and capturing their insect prey on the
wing ; and are both furnished, therefore, with a remarkably wide
gape, long wings, and generally a forked tail to assist in steering ;
while their legs {which are little used for progression) are short
and inconspicuous. But here their whole similitude ceases ; for
thev differ astonishingly in every detail of their conformation, which

necessary to include him in a particular group with the Apes, whatever may
be the notions entertained of his distinctness in other respects, with which
zoology has no sort of concern.

* Strange that, in the face of such conspicuously obvious facts, numerous
zoologists should still contend for uniformity in the amount of variation of
groups, as implied by their ternary, quinary, septennary systems, &c. !

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 51

is based on very distinct ordinal sub-types of form. The Swallow,
framed on the same model as every singing-bird, retains all the very
numerous peculiarities of structure observable throughout the ex-
ceedingly extensive group Cantores (Nobis); and neither in its
skeleton, digestive nor vocal organs, &c., presents any essential dif-
ference from a Sparrow, Robin, or Tree-creeper, from which it
varies only in minor adaptive modifications, such as the mere rela.
tive length of limbs, or the degrees of development of parts common
toall. The Swift presents not a single one of those characters,
but differs most materially in the structure of its whole skeleton and
entire anatomy ; its vocal apparatus, as in all the rest of its group
(the Strepitores, Nobis), not being complicated by peculiar muscles,
the function of which is to inflect the voice (as in every member of
the group to which the Swallow appertains), it can only utter a
discordant scream, while the Swallow modulates the tone of its
voice, and sings. But, without entering further into a specification
of internal distinctions, the exterior anatomy of the Swift and
Swallow, even to the structure of any single feather, or as observ-
able in the conformation of the bill and feet, in the number of tail-
feathers (which, in the group to which the Swallow belongs, is
invariably twelve ; while in the Swifts, as in many other Strepi-
tores, there are only ten), in short, in every imaginable particular
that can be supposed to indicate affinity or physiological proximity,
these two analogous genera have no better claim to rank in the
same order of the class of birds, than the Whale has, in consequence
of its external resemblance to a fish, to be included in the class of
fishes. We are fully prepared to state the veritable affinities of
both the Swift and Swallow, but it would be out of place to do so
on this occasion. | 7
Having now, we trust, sufficiently elucidated the nature of the
systematic relations of animals in general, and controverted the pre-
valent notion that all groups are, to a certain extent, arbitrary, we
will proceed to our task of extricating various genera from the en-
tanglement of analogy, to assign them a position in accordance with
their intrinsical affinity ; and recur at length to the consideration of _
the small group specified at the commencement of this article, as
one wherein the dental characters—so important generally, as indi-
cative of the affinities of Mammalia—become a deceptive guide to
the systematist who would place unlimited confidence in the vali-
dity of that as of any other single character, considered without
reference to the rest of the organization. In the Carnivora of the
illustrious Cuvier, we recognise four primary sub-types of form, viz.

52 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

Digitigrada, Cuv. as restricted to the species which possess a coecum ;
Pinnigrada, Blainy. or the Seals ; Subplantigrada, Nobis, or the
Weasel and Badger tribe ; and Plantigrada, Cuv. as limited to the
genera included by that naturalist, which have two tuberculated
molars on each side of both jaws.

At the head of the Digitigrada, the Dogs and Foxes hold their
station, as a very distinct family—Canid@ ; distinguished by a
combination of various characters from all the rest, and (inter alia)
to mention one of dichotomous application, by the peculiar spiral form
of the cecum. In the other Digitigrada the coecum is comparatively
short, and not spiral; and the tongue, which in the Canide is soft
and smooth, is armed (with the only known exception of Proteles)
with reverted spinous papille. Mos eorum copulandi mos canum
non est, in consequence of a difference of structure. Save in the
Mangouste group (Herpestidinw), wherein the hairs of the fur
are in general uniformly grizzled, very nearly all (and probably
the whole of them when young) are more or less marked with a
darker on a lighter tint of colouring ; and, with the final exception
of a due proportion of the great genus Felis, they are all peculiar to
the warm regions of the eastern hemisphere.

This last generalization applies properly to

THE CIVET FAMILY (Viverrip2),

Which comprehends all the species that are not Cats. They
form an extremely natural group, the members of which are
mostly distinguished by possessing an anal pouch more or less de-
veloped, or, in other words, a cavity or rudiment of the same,
formed by two parallel and longitudinal folds of the skin, within
which a number of pores open, from which an unctuous and odorous
substance exudes, the product of peculiar glands. This substance
constitutes, in certain species, the civet of commerce, a well-known
perfume, formerly much more used than at present, when musk and
ambergris were unknown. It is necessary to divide this family
into three sub-families ; and to the first of these, or

Tue Hya#na Sus-ramizty ( Hyenine ),

We will now confine our attention, the two other sub-families
being that of the Civets (Viverrine_), comprehending the genera
Civet (Viverra), Genet (Genetta), Galet (Cryptoprocta, Ben.,
perhaps comprising Eupleres, Jourdan), Lisang ( Hemigalea, Jour-

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 53

dan, including Prionodon, Horsf.), and Lutrel ( Cynogale, Gray ;
Limictis, Blainville ; Potamophilus, Kuhl) ; and that of the Man-
goustes or Ichneumons ( Herpestidine), consisting of the Man-
goustes ( Herpestes), Surikate ( Ryzwna), and Mangue ( Crossar-
chus), of the Régne Animal, with their numerous subsequently
proposed divisions, and apparently the Urva of Mr. Hodgson. In
these two latter sub-families the body and tail are generally length-
ened, and the limbs short: but in the first sub-family, or Hyena
group, the body is never attenuated, but rather the reverse ; the
limbs are comparatively elongated, and the tail, which is more or
less brushy, seldom reachestothe ground. ‘The head is carried low,
and has large or long and pointed ears. There are, in general,
only four toes to each foot, but with an internal rudiment in place
of a thumb to the anterior, which in one genus ( Proteles) is more
developed, and even furnished with a claw, as in all the Canidae.
The fore-legs are more or less bent or crooked, turning outward at
the wrist-joint ; and the hinder brought forward in standing, which
lowers the croup. Their figure is accordingly ungainly, and they
have a limping gait when unexcited, and particularly when first
rising up from repose. The greater number are eminently carrion-
feeders, and prefer tainted flesh; are for the most part nocturnal,
passing the day in caverns or burrows, often several together ; some
species of them prowling in concert, and all uttering the most dis-
mal yells during their night rambles—a characteristic trait, in which
they differ remarkably from the other Viverride (which are parti-
cularly silent animals). Their dental characters present extraordi-
nary diversities, which, however, are not difficult to comprehend ;
and the intestinal canal of at least two of the three genera (the soft
parts of the other not having been described, so far, at least; as we
have been able to ascertain), are exceedingly prolonged, more so
than in any other terrene Carnivora. The few living species all
inhabit Africa, to which, with one exception, they are peculiar.
The most dog-like of them are

54 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

Tre Lycaons,
(Lycaon,* Brookes ; Cynohyena, Blainville),

Which absolutely resemble the Dogs in their osteology, except that
the anterior thumbs are rudimental, and seen only in the skeleton ;
and the nasal orifice (as in the Hyenas) is much larger. They have
the same number of ribs (thirteen), and precisely the same dental cha-
racters,t possessing even the second: inferior true molar, which oc.
curs in no other Digitigrada, besides the Canide: their cranial
lamine even, which part the cerebrum from the cerebellum, are not
more developed than in the Dogs; whereas, in all the other Digiti-
grada, they are much more developed: they have no glandular
pouch near the anus, and it is probable that the tongue also is soft and
smooth. On the other hand, however, their affinity to the Hyznas
is so obvious, even to the style of colouring and markings of the
skin, which in character resemble those of no Canis, that. we find
different naturalists of eminence including them in the distinct ge-
nus Hyzna. Of the anatomy of their soft parts we are uninformed ;
which is the more to be regretted, as there is every reason to suspect
that therein will be found substantial proofs of the propriety of the
arrangement here adopted, which the form of the ccecum alone
would suffice to determine. This much is certain, that in coitu
annexus non est, any more than in the Hyznas, which implies a
structural difference from the Canidz in one. of their most marked
characters ; and, Hyena-like, we read of the South African Lycaon,
that “‘ When this animal begins to walk or run after having been at
rest for a time, it appears weak or even lame in the hind legs, like
a Hyena: it never barks, but gives utterance to a shrill sound, re-
sembling ho-ho-ho-ho-ho; the sounds being almost lost in each
other.” f

* Avxaoy, Pliny ; a term applied to some canine animal from India, and de-
rived from Avxos, Lupus, a Wolf. The animals which at present bear this
generic title must not be confounded with the Canis lycaon, Linn. which re-
fers to the Black Wolf of Europe, a very doubtful species. Canis lycaon of
Fischer applies to one of them.

+ Cuvier states, in his Ossemens Fossiles, that the small lobe in front of
their false molars is rather more developed ; but even this slight difference
we are unable to perceive in a skull of the ordinary Cape species now before
us.

+ Dr. Andrew Smith’s African Zoology, p. 43.

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 55

We believe this to be the true statement of the affinities of the
Lycaons: that they are not, physiologically, more nearly related to
the Canide than the other Hywnine ; but that, in common with
the Dogs, they present the normal characters of the higher group
Digitigrada, from which all the other genera recede more or less,
and the rest of the Hyaenine very remarkably : those distinctions
which especially characterize the minor type of Canidae, will, we
conceive, be vainly sought for in the anatomy of the Lycaons ; the

‘resemblance of which to the Dogs is rather of a negative kind, a
- relationship of analogy, and not affinity, in reference to similarity
of habit.* It isnot unlikely that certain large fossil species, resem-
bling in like manner the Canidae, should rather range in the pre-
sent group. '

The Lycaons are swift, long-legged animals, that hunt in orga-
nized packs, and by perseverance seldom fail to weary out the fleet-
est ruminants. Though principally nocturnal, they frequently
pursue their prey by day ; and individuals occasionally crouch in
wait for ‘it, concealed in any slight cover. Sparrman describes
them as the most destructive to Sheep and Goats of the wild ani-
mals of South Africa, attacking not merely to allay their appetite,
but killing or wounding as many as they can. Unlike the Hyena,
they appear to be endowed with much courage, and will sometimes
engage in conflict with a Dog of superior strength. The packs hunt
admirably in concert; and on one occasion, relates Sparrman, a
a number of them had the hardihood to return after a man on horse-
back, who had been pursuing them. They are well-formed for
speed, standing higher on the legs than any wild species of Canis ;
have large, ample ears, and singularly variegated colouring, dis-
posed in irregular patches ; with head resembling that of a Hyena,
and similar thick neck (a common character of the Viverride ) ;
and they are restricted in their distribution to Africa, the principal
habitat of the Hycenine.

There appear to be at least two species :—

* The second inferior true molar, if not found in the remaining Digitigra-
da, occurs in other species of the next higher group, Carnivora, as in the re-
stricted Plantigrada generally.

56 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

THe Marsriep Lycaon,

(L. marmoratus, Nobis; Canis pictus, Ruppell; not Hywxna picta
of Temminck, which refers to the other).

Inhabits Abyssinia, where it sometimes attacks man, and is much
feared by the natives. Individuals, observes Dr. Ruppell, often
crouch and lie in wait for small Mammalia. It is a very handsome
animal, distinguished by its white ground-colour.

Length, to the tail, three feet and a half; the tail, sixteen
inches: height at the shoulders above two feet, the croup lower.
General colour, greyish-white ; the chin black, which colour ex-
tends backwards on the sides of the neck, forming a streak which
is said to be of constant occurrence ; some large irregular patches of
chestnut-brown, bordered with black, are variously disposed upon
the body and limbs ; and the terminal greater portion of the tail is
white, surmounted by a narrow black ring, above which the colour
is rufous. In both this and the following species, the terminal two-
thirds of the tail are stated to be white invariably ; but in a speci-
men of the ordinary Cape Lycaon, preserved in the museum of the
Zoological Society, there is no white on the tail, which, however,
is very unusual.

Tue TorToIsEsSHELL Lycaon,

C L. pictus:* Hyena picta, Temm.; H. venatica, Burchell ; Ly-
caon tricolor, Brookes ; Canis lycaon, Fischer),

Or Wilde Houd of the Cape colonists, is smaller, with a chestnut
ground-colour: measuring about two feet high and three in length,
exclusive of the tail. Its ground-colour is sandy-bay or ochreous-
yellow, shaded with darker hairs; and irregularly blotched and
brindled with black, mingled in various parts with patches of white.
The legs are marked in the same manner, and tail similar to that of
the other, forming a moderate sized and handsome brush in both
species. The female is rather smaller and less brightly coloured,
with generally fewer markings. Young seemingly undescribed.

* Dr. Smith has applied the specific appellation pictus, which belongs to
this species, to the other in his African Zoology, calling the present one Ly-
caon typicus.

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 57

Dr. Smith observes, “The Cape farmers are acquainted with two
species of what they denominate the Wilde Hond; the one they
describe as larger, darker coloured, and much more ferocious than
the other.”* Sparrman had long previously’ published the same
hearsay report, except that the smaller kind, according to his ac.
count, would seem to be the darker.t

The Tortoiseshell Lycaon is not uncommon in South Africa, and
is troublesome at the frontier settlements near the Cape. Dr. Bur-
chell, who brought a living specimen to this country, describes it
as swift, fierce, and active.“ Sheep and Oxen,”’ he relates, “are
particularly subject to its attacks ; t hefirst openly, but the latter
only by stealth, surprising them in their sleep, and suddenly biting
off their tail, which the large opening and great muscular power
of its jaws, enable it to do with ease.” That respectable traveller,
however, does not mention that he personally witnessed this act,
although he saw cattle that were thus mutilated ; and we are dis-
posed, therefore, to suspect that the real culprit was the formidable
Spotted Hyena, the teeth and jaws of which are fully adequate to
the performance of such a feat, which assuredly does not seem to be
the case with those of the Tortoiseshell Lycaon, in which species
they are less powerful than in a common Pointer. A Spotted Hy-
ena, if not under apprehension of being molested, would covertly
attack the animal, by maiming it more severely ; but these cunning
and cowardly brutes would not improbably seize a hasty opportu-
nity of snapping off the tail of a large animal, and immediately
escape with it, if fearful of encountering danger.

Dr. Burchell’s specimen continued ferocious, while chained up in
his stable yard, for more than a year, and the man who fed it
** dared never to venture his hand upon it.” It, however, became
familiar with a Dog, its companion. Another, formerly in the
Tower menagerie, arrived with a young Cape Lion, with which it
agreed perfectly till the Lion became too strong and rough in its
play, when the Lycaon was associated with a Striped and two
Spotted Hyzenas, and all lived tolerably well together in the same
den. If taken young, and suffered to run about, there is little
doubt it might be readily domesticated ; but those few individuals
which we have seen in captivity were all savage and unsafe to

* African Zoology, p. 44.

+ “Il y ena, dit-on, de deux especes ; les uns plus grands, d’une couleur
rougéa-re avec des taches noires; les autres moins grandes et plus bruns.”—
French edition of Sparrman’s T'ravels, i., 207.

VOL. X., NO. XXVIII. $

58 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

handle, even by their keepers. In travelling menageries, this ani-
mal is commonly termed the Tortoiseshell Hyena.

We now pass to a genus, the dentition and general structure of
which, in reference to a special object, exhibits remarkable mo-
dification.

Tue Hymnas (Hyena,* Storr),

Are the largest of the Viverride, few Dogs surpassing some of
them in bulk and stature. Their prodigious strength of jaw, which
far exceeds that of every other animal, is attained by a general
modification of the parts in any way concerned to produce it. The
muzzle is shortened, while the scissor-teetht and false molars are
much enlarged ; hence the tuberculous grinders are necessarily both
sacrificed in the lower jaw, and one of them in the upper, the other
being exceedingly reduced, and not situate behind the scissor-tooth,
where there is no room left for it but inward of its posterior extre-
mity. The upper scissor-tooth has the usual great internal rooted
tubercle ; but the inferior—save in H. vulgaris—has none, present-
ing only two stout and keenly-cutting lobes, with merely a trace of
the hindward tuberculous portion in H. crocuta and the fossil H. spe-
la, which however is more developed in the others: the small
retained true grinder is also most reduced in H. crocuta, and the
extinct species adverted to. There are three anterior false molars
each side of both jaws, the first, particularly above, comparatively
small; the third above and second below, enormously bulky ; the
third inferior somewhat less, and the second above moderate; all
forming stout cones, in which the secondary cusps merge almost to
obliteration in H. crocuta and H. spelza, less so in H. brunnea, and
still less in H. vulgaris, the dentition of which is least typical of
any. The external pair of superior incisive teeth are much en-
larged and lengthened, and the incisors generally present broad
opposing surfaces. In conformity with this increased strength and
massiveness of the cutting molars, the jaws are necessarily stout in

* ’Yawa, a Sow; in reference, perhaps, to the arched and bristled back of
the species known to the ancients, or possibly to its habit of scratching up
the surface of the soil for bulbs.

+ We use this expressive term to designate the carnivorous or cutting
nolar, styled the carnassier by the French: this tooth is essentially the last
of the anterior or false molars, peculiarly modified throughout the Fere, Lin.

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 59

proportion ; and the sagittal crest is more developed than in any
other animal. The neck, which is huge and furnished with prodi-
gious muscles, is so fixed and rigid that its vertebre occasionally
become anchylosed: hence has originated the statement that these
animals have only one bone in the neck. With the same total num-
ber of dorsal and lumbar vertebrae as the Dogs and Lycaons, the
Hyznas have two additional pairs of ribs, which alters the relative
number of those vertebrae, as commonly specified. All their ribs,
moreover, are considerably stouter and more massive, as is the rest
of the skeleton ; while the immense development of the spinal pro-
cesses, still maintaining a reference to their excessive strength of
jaw, occasions the arched form of the back, and contributes thus to
impart their characteristic physiognomy. The tongue, assuming the
character of the Viverride# and Felidx generally, is furnished with
a circular collection of reverted spines, which enables them to lick
the flesh from the bones of their prey ; and beneath the anus is
situate a deep and glandular pouch, wherein a fetid matter is se-
creted, having the appearance and consistence of tallow.* These
animals, finally, have a short and massive body, and long and crook-
ed fore-limbs, which bend considerably at the wrist-joint ; their hind
limbs are shorter, and claws adapted for scratching up the ground.
The ears are large and directed forward; the eyes full and brilli-
ant, luminous in the dark, and incapable of bearing a strong
light ; and the pituitary membrane of the internal nostrils (the ori-
fice of which is large and broad in the cranium) amply developed.
Hyzenas subsist, by preference, on corrupted flesh, and do not
habitually exercise their power of masticating bones, except by day,
leisurely, in their retreats. It is only in default of finding dead
carcases that they attack living animals, when they commit dreadful
havoc with the flocks, and even destroy cattle; never venturing,
however, to attack any creature that boldly confronts them, but
threatening, and using all the grimace in their power to frighten
them and induce them to flee, when the Hyena is at once embold-
ened to pursueand seize them. Their plan is always to approach their
intended victim unawares, and maim it by a gripe behind, repeating
this cowardly procedure till it falls disabled. In no instance do they
attack the feeblest prey openly and in front ; while their finely sensi-
tive olfactory organ enables them to discover young or sleeping ani-

* From the existence of this cavity, the orifice of which is, however,
transverse, the ancients were induced to believe that the Hyeena was her-
maphrodite.

60 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

mals, which latter would be more liable to suffer from their depreda-
tions, if the continual melancholy howling of their enemy failed to
convey a timely intimation of his approach. Even when rebuffed,
however, they still linger, and watch their opportunity of making a
covert attack, requiring corresponding vigilance on the part of the
assailed. It is well that their courage is disproportionate to their
formidable armature. ~ They are. restless, wandering beings, that
prowl about from dusk till morning, and “make night hideous”
with their incessant dismal howling,. which only stops when they
have at length discovered a carcass or other prey ; and like the rest
of the carrion-feeding mammalia, they disinter bodies from the
grave, which has given rise to numerous. superstitions connected
with them. Cunning and suspicious. in the extreme, they examine
every object with which they are not perfectly familiar with, the
utmost distrust ; and there are consequently no animals more diffi-
cult to outwit by snares.“ They steal about human, habitations
where all is quiet within, and but too frequently gain admittance to
the insecure dwellings of the Africans, when, disregarding calves
and other tender live stock that are customarily brought in at night,
and oftentimes passing by a fire, they mostly prefer to take_an. in-
fant from the mother’s kaross (doubtless on account of its being
more easily removed), and this in such a gentle and cautious manner
that the bereaved parent is commonly unconscious of her loss until
the cries of her child have reached her from without, when a close
prisoner in the jaws of the monster.t If an entrance cannot be

* «The more common methods employed against beasts of prey,” writes
Dr. A. Smith, of the Spotted Hyzena, “such as spring guns, traps, &c. do
not succeed in his case. During his nocturnal wanderings, he minutely ex-
amines every object that presents itself to his notice with which he is not
perfectly familiar; and if he see occasion to suspect that it can injure him
he will turn back, and make his way in an opposite direction. Thus, cords
or leathern thongs, which are often laid across the footpaths the Hyzena is
accustomed to travel upon, and which are attached to the triggers of loaded
guns, with the design that his contact with the thong may cause the dis-
charge of the gun in his direction, are very carefully examined by him; and
the usual result of his examination is, his deciding against trusting himself in
contact with them. The Cape farmers have so often observed this result,
that they now very rarely attempt his destruction by such means, but occa-
sionally succeed by substituting for cords the delicate stems of creeping
plants, which are regarded by him without suspicion until he has once ac-
tually suffered through them. Many other ingenious methods, suggested
by the necessity of the case, have been adopted by the farmers for the de-
struction of Hyzenas.”—Catalogue of the late African Museum.

+ Mr. Steedman, in his Wanderings and Adventures in the Interior of South

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 61

effected, they will carry off culinary utensils, or whatever may lie
in their way that smells of food ; and the next morning, if the foot-
steps of the beast be followed (as is customary on such occasions),
the article may be found at the distance of perhaps a mile, hidden
in some bush, or slightly buried in the soil. .'They feed addition--
ally, however, and sometimes to a considerable extent, on bulbs,
which they scratch up ; and so fastidious (according to the travel-
ler Bruce) is the Striped Hyena in the choice of this vegetable
diet, that, on crushing them, it rejects all that manifest any stain
or flavour of rottenness, devouring only the very finest. This fact
of their resorting partly to vegetable regimen derives a particular
interest from the circumstance of the almost total atrophy of the tu-
berculated portion of their cheek-teeth.

Of the Hyzna’s amazing power of jaw, the following notice oc-
curs in Dr. Buckland’s Reliquie Deluviane, as observed: by him in
an individual of the Spotted species (H. crocuta).. “The shin
bone of an Ox being presented to this Hyzna, he began to bite off
with his molar-teeth large fragments from its upper extremity, and
swallowed them whole as often as they were broken off... On his
reaching the medullary cavity the bone split into angular fragments,
many of which he caught up greedily, and. swallowed entire. He
went on cracking it till he had extracted all the marrow, licking
out the lowest portion of it with his tongue:: this. done, he left
untouched the lower condyle, which contains no: marrow, and is
very hard. * .* *. I gave the animal. successively three shin
bones of a Sheep ; he snapped them asunder in a moment, dividing
each into two parts only, which he swallowed entire, without the
smallest mastication. On the keeper putting a spar of wood two
inches in diameter into his den, he cracked it in pieces as if it had

Africa, furnishes some most appalling accounts of the rapacity of the Spotted
Hyzena. He states that Mr. Shepstone (a missionary), in a letter from
Mamboland, relates that the nightly attacks of Wolves, as these animals are
currently denominated in South Africa, have been very destructive among
the children and youth ; for within a few months not fewer than forty in-
stances came to his knowledge, wherein that beast had made a most dread-
ful havoc. Among other cases, Mr. Shepstone particularizes two, one that
of a boy about ten years of age, and the other of a little girl’ abouteight,
who had been carried off by this species and wretchedly mangled, ‘but were
recovered by the attention of that gentleman and his companions. Niebuhr
likewise informs us that the Striped: Hyzenas about Gamboon, in the season
when the inhabitants sleep in the open air, snatch away children from the
sides of their parents.—Descr. Arabie, 147, as quoted by Pennant.

62 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

been touchwood, and in a minute the whole was reduced to a mass
of splinters. The power of his jaws far exceeded any animal force
of the kind I ever saw exerted, and reminded me of nothing so much
as a miner’s crushing mill, or the scissors with which they cut off
bars of iron or copper in the metal foundries.”’*

The strength of Hyznas, as manifested by their power of drag-
ging away large carcases, is strikingly exemplified in Col. Denham’s
narrative. At Kouka, that traveller relates that the Striped Hy-
zenas (Dhubba), which were everywhere in legions, became so
extremely ravenous that a large village had been attacked by them
the night before his last visit to it, and absolutely carried by storm,
notwithstanding defences nearly six feet high of branches of the
prickly tulloh ; and two Donkeys, whose flesh these animals are,
according to that author, particularly fond of, were carried off, de-
spite the efforts of the people. ‘‘ We constantly,” continues Col.
Denham, “ heard them close to the walls of our own town at nights,
and on a gate being left partly open they would enter, and carry off
any unfortunate animal that they could find in the streets." A
single Striped Hyzna has been seen to make off with a negress,
holding her by one leg; and running thus at a brisk pace, till she
was fortunately rescued.

The natural character of Hyzenas is, however, crafty in the ex-
treme, but not bold ; the slightest show of resistance sufficing gene-
rally to keep them aloof. It is only when unusually urged by
hunger that the Striped species derives a confidence from acting in
concert, doubtless the result of experience in some degree ; and the
solitary Spotted Hyena, in all likelihood famished to desperation,
has been known to attack and destroy even the Rhinoceros :§ they

* Dr. Knox, in a paper on the habits of these animals ( Wern. Trans. iv,
383) states that he never knew them to crunch the bones of their prey,
leaving the skeleton untouched. It nevertheless appears, however, from
Dr. Smith’s interesting paper on the H. brunnea (Lin. Trans. vol. xv), that
they certainly do convey bones to the places of their diurnal retreat, and
there feed on them, as commented upon by Dr. Buckland and others. We
have already noticed, in the text, their propensity to carry off articles that
are less digestible : among various authorities for which statement, see Capt.
Sir J. Alexander’s narrative of his late expedition of discovery into South
Africa, vol. ii, 235.

+ p- 187.

+ Bosman, 295.

§ “I had thought,” writes Sir J. Alexander, “that the African Rhinoceros
had no superior, none that he need fear, save all-destroying Man; when my
companion informed me that he had once found a Rhinoceros that had been

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAI. HISTORY. 63

take advantage of any animal that manifests the least fear of them,
but are singularly cowardly, and their fierceness results from neces-
sity rather than choice, as they always evince a preference for
what they find dead. The common notion that they are un-
tameable, is devoid of foundation ; for, as the late excellent natu-
ralist, Mr. Bennett, remarked, (in his Zower Menagerie,) there is
even scarcely any animal that submits with greater facility to
the control of Man; and they are even capable of much attach-
ment to persons who kindly treat them. We have seen both the
Striped and Spotted Hyznas as gentle as Dogs, and freely handled
them ;* and they have been known to recognise a former master
after several year’s absence, and demonstrate as much joy on the
occasion as could be evinced by any Dog. Sir J. Barrow even
informs us, in his journey to the Cape, that the Spotted Hyena
has been tamed in the district of Schneuberg, where it is considered
more serviceable for the chace than the Dog, and fully equal to that
animal in intelligence and fidelity ; and Col. Sykes observes of the
Striped one (Turrus of the Mahrattas) that it is susceptible of the
same domestication as a Dog.t Their awkward-looking propor-
tions, however, unprepossessing aspect, and hatefully shrieking
voice, must ever prevent them from becoming favourite domestic
animals.

Dr. Andrew Smith narrates a curious fact, concerning the tallow-
like secretion of the nates, of an individual of the Brown species (H.
brunnea) which he long possessed in confinement, and which fact
we have succeeded in ascertaining (after much fruitless inquiry) in
the instances of both the others. The animal used to relieve itself
of it by pressing that part always against a particular stone in its
prison, when it issued forth rather copiously, and immediately con-
gealed upon the stone. This substance appeared to be necessary,
taken into the stomach, to promote digestion ; for the Hyzna al-
ways resorted to it for that purpose after a meal, and regularly as it
arose from rest.{ It may be borne in mind that the intestines of
these animals are unusually prolonged ; though the same occurs in

just killed by a Hyzena. It had followed the giant brute for some time (as
appeared by the foot-marks), and had bitten it behind with its terrible jaws,
till the Rhinoceros fell and painfully died.”L£xpedition II., 6.

* On such occasions, when fondled, they roll over upon the back like a
Spaniel, generally first sinking upon the knees: and some individuals shriek
and “howl with delight” most horribly when thus noticed.

+ Proceedings of the Zoological Society, 1830, p. 31.

t Linn. Trans., vol. xv.

64 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

the next genus (Proteles), which negatives the supposition that the
digestion of bones required the medicament adverted to ; while it is
not altogether consonant with the reason assigned by Cuvier for the
shortness of the intestirial canal in’ the Carnivora generally, “a
cause de la nature substantielle de leurs aliments, et pour éviter ‘la
putréfaction que ‘la chair éprouverait en'séjournant trop long-temps
dans un canal prolongé :” the Hyznas and Protle ‘subsisting nor-
mally on flesh already putrifying, which might accordingly be in-
ferred, fromthe augmentation of chyle-absorbing surface, to yield
a proportionally reduced amount of nutriment.

' There are three living a toot of shit — ‘very obviously dis-
tinct Sais each other.

THe Spottrep Hy@nNa

(H. crocuta, Schreber ; H. maculata, Temm.; H. capensis, Desm.)

Is the largest of them, and also, as‘we have seen, the most ¢ypical,
in so far as it deviates furthest from the ordinary dentition of the
Digitigrada ; while in other respects it is equally characteristic with
its congeners. It is at once distinguished ‘by its numerous: round
black or reddish brown spots, upon a pale fulvous ground, its broad
ears, and inconspicuous mane: its whiskers are less developed en
in the others.

Length, from nose to base of ‘tail, four feet and a half ; the tail,
sixteen inches: height at the shoulder two feet eight inches, and at
the croup about two feet three. General colour pale fulvous, in-
clining more: or less to rufous, with numerous black and sometimes
reddish-brown spots on the body and limbs, alike in no: two indivi-
duals ;* the hairs on the hind: neck and withers forming a short
reversed mane, and the lower two-thirds of the tail tufted with long
black hairs; nose and muzzle black. ‘‘The ground colour,” ob-
serves Dr. Smith, “in young individuals, is whitish, instead of pale
fulvous ; the spots are deep black, and the under. parts quite black,”
instead of dull white. “In still younger ones, the spots are often not
distinct, the surface exhibiting rather a brindled appearance ; and in
very young ones the fur is of a very dark, dull slate-colour, verging

* In Cuvier’s Ossemens Fossiles, two varieties are indicated as respects the
colouring; but we have vainly sought to identify these varieties by compar-
ing the descriptions of them with specimens, which latter present great indi-
vidual variation.

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 65

towards black:’* a statement confirmed by some cubs recently
brought forth in Mr. Wombwell’s menagerie.

This animal is peculiar to South Africa, where it is numerous,
and generally diffused ; being known as the Wolf or Tiger Wolf
to the Cape colonists: it is also sometimes designated the Laughing
Hyena. When running about, it often doubles down the ears,
which are then inconspicuous ; and frequently turns up the tail,
like a Dog. Anecdotes of it abound in the writings of most South
African travellers.

“It seldom,” remarks Dr. Sanit, “if ever, moves one during
the day, but passes that period:in a:state of repose, either in holes of
the ground, or in retired situations densely covered with brush.
Towards night-fall his howlings are regularly heard, announcing to
the various animals the approach of their voracious enemy, and thus
enabling many of them to escape his wiles. The propensity this
beast has for howling seems, therefore, to be disadvantageous to
him ; and if his almost continual noise be not intended to put the ani-
mals upon which he preys upon their guard, its actual purpose is
scarcely conceivable,” unless it be to inspire them with terror, and
thus to facilitate his attacks. ‘ Some have surmised it to be his call
to creatures of his own species ; but that this is not the case is cer-
tain from the fact that Hyznas are heard to utter their supposed call
even while separating from each other farther and farther as each cry
is uttered ; in addition to which, it may be remarked that it is contrary
to the habit of this animal to hunt in company, or even to congregate
in great numbers, save when assembled by the temptation of abun-
dance of carrion. A still further proof that the Hyzna’s cry is not
a friendly call to his own species, may be found in the fact that when
individual Hyznas have found a dead animal, they cease to utter their
melancholy howl, as if in fear of calling participators of the feast.

“ Till lately,” adds the author, in conclusion of a very interesting
account, “‘ Hyzenas were in the habit of paying nightly visits to the
streets of Cape Town, and were regarded as very useful in carrying
away the animal refuse, which might otherwise have been disagree-
able. This, however, no longer occurs, partly, perhaps, from better
regulations now existing in the town, and partly from the number of
these animals having very greatly decreased. Even now, however,
individual Hyznas occasionally approach the town, and their howl-
ings are sometimes heard under Table Mountain, and in other direc-

* African Zoology, p. 55.
+ Quoted in the Penny Cyclopedia, Art. Hyzna.
VOL, X., NO. XXVIII. 9

66 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

tions, during the nights. In the countries inhabited by the Caffres
they are very numerous and daring, generally approaching the: vil-
lages during the night, and attempting, either by force or stratagem,
to pass the wattles by which the houses are defended, when, if suc-
cessful, they not unfrequently carry off some young child of the fa-
mily. Scars and marks in different parts of the body often testify to
the traveller how dangerous a foe the natives have in this animal.*”

THE ORDINARY Fossrr Hy#NA or Evuropr

(Hi. speleea, Goldfuss),+

Was very closely allied to the preceding species, but still larger : : its
remains occur rather plentifully in cavern deposits, in various parts
of Europe, including the British isles. No bones of this genus have
hitherto been found in America, where the geographical distribution
of the living Viverride renders it probable that Hyznas never
existed.

The rest of the living Hy@enine havea conspicuous dorsal mane,
and amazingly stout wiry moustaches. Their ears are long and
pointed, and they are marked with dark transverse stripes.

Ture Brown Hy#na,

(H. brunnea, Thunberg; H. villosa, Smith; H. fusca, Desm. ;
also quoted by Lesson as H. rufa, Cuv.)

Is the second Cape species, and intermediate in its dentition to the
two other living Hyeenas ; differmg from the Spotted in the greater de-

* Catalogue of the late South African Museum.

+ Various other extinct species have been described, as H. spelea major,
Goldfuss; H. prisca ( Hyéne rayée fossile ), M. de Serres; H. intermedia, ibid. ;
H. Perrierii, Brav. Croiz. and Job ; H. avernensis, ibid. ; and H. dubia, ibid. :
the whole of these European.

t+ The genus Bassaris of Lichtenstein, ranged by De Blainville and others
near the Musangs ( Paradoxurus ), appears to be a true Plantigrade, allied to
the Racoons and Coatimondis; an idea first suggested to us by our valued
friend Mr. Waterhouse, the able curator of the Zoological Society’s museum.
Since penning this, we have met with a brief notice of the anatomy of Bas-
saris, by Prof. de Blainville, in the Annales d’ Anatomie et Physiologie for Fe-
bruary, 1839, p. 58, which completely sets at rest the question, in our mind,
of the animal being a true Plantigrade.”

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 67

velopment of the secondary lobes of its false molars, in the superior size
of the small retained upper true molar,and in the.existence of a well-
marked tuberculous portion behind the lower scissor-tooth ; and from
the Striped in the greater proportionate bulk of its molars generally,
and the absence of an inner tubercle to the lower scissor-tooth, which
is strongly marked in that species.* Its size is inferior to that of ei-
ther, and externally it is at once distinguished by the very long,
hanging brown hair, which clothes its back and sides, the limbs being
barred with black. The largest specimen of several that we possess
notes of, measured, according to Mr. Steedman, four feet four inches
from nose to base of tail, the tail nine inches and a half, or with its
hair one foot two; height at the shoulder two feet four, and two feet
at the croup. -“ Hair of the whole body remarkably long, coarse,
and shaggy,’’ measuring six inches and upwards; “ but short and
crisp on the head, ears, and extremities. General colour of the head,
body, and extremities, grizzled brown, from the long hairs being
greyish towards the roots and brown at the, points, marked on the
sides and hips with large but rather indistinct transverse bands, of a
deep vinous-brown colour. The legs, particularly the fore, are
marked with transverse black bands, much more distinct and apparent
than those oa the body. Tail thickly covered with longer hair than
in the Spotted Hyena, of an uniform deep brown. The fore-arms
and thighs are darker than the other parts of the animal; and a large
collar of dirty, yellowish-white surrounds the throat and extends up
the sides of the neck, occupying the entire space between the setting
on of the head and the shoulders. Under each eye there is a large
irregular black patch; the chin also is black, and a narrow band of
the same colour marks the junction of the head and neck, bordered
by the dirty-white collar before mentioned. The individual was aged,
all the teeth being much worn. A cub, nineteen inches in length,
exhibited the same general characters, except that the hair was shorter
and more woolly: the dark transverse bands on the sides and hips

* We are unaware that the dentition of the present animal has previously
been described; nor is it now absolutely certain that the right species is re-
ferred to. We were perfectly familiar with the dental characters of H. cro-
cuta and H. vulgaris, however, when, in Mr. Yarrell’s collection, a solitary
Hyezena’s skull excited our attention, as differing from all that we had
ever previously examined ; and as the smaller size of this specimen accords
with H. brunnea, while there is no information of any additional recent spe-
cies, there can be extremely little doubt of its belonging to it. Mr. Yarrell
was quite unacquainted with the history of his specimen.

68 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

were little, if at all, more distinct, and the dinty-witite collar was
equally conspicuous. Bi.

This animal is the Straand-Wolf or Straand-Jut of the Cape
colonists, and is neither so common nor so generally diffused as the
Spotted Hyznas ; but appears to extend further northward,t the spe-
cimen in the Zoological Society’s Museum having been received from
near the Gambia. ‘It is well known,” writes Mr. Steedman, “to
the farmers who reside along the southern shores near the Cape,
where it feeds upon carrion, and whatever is occasionally thrown up
by the ocean, as dead Whales, &c. But when food becomes scarce
it commits great depredations upon the flocks and herds of the colo-
tists, by whom its incursions are much dreaded. A very fine speci-
men” (described in the foregoing paragraph) “that had been just
shot by a farmer, had destroyed three large calves belonging to him.
I was informed that it is a remarkably cunning animal, retiring toa
considerable distance from the scene of its depredations to elude
pursuit, and concealing itself, during the day-time, in the mountains,
or in the thick bush, which extends in large patches throughout the
sandy district in which it is usually found. The cub I procured was
one of three obtained alive in the Nieuyeld mountains, a considera-
ble distance in the interior of the country, which shews that this spe-
cies is not so strictly confined to the vicinity of the sea-coast as its
colonial name would apply, or as the accounts of travellers would
lead us to imagine.”

Aninstructive account of the Brown Hyena, by Dr. Andrew Smith,
the enterprising African traveller, to whom zoology has recently
been so much indebted, is published in the 15th volume of the Tran-
sactions of the Linnean Society, where it is stated that ‘‘it seldom
attacks the larger quadrupeds, and it is only Sheep, Goats, and such
like animals, that suffer from its predatory nature.” A captive in-
dividual which that naturalist long possessed, was always unusually ac-
tive during rain, and habitually avoided warmth: its disposition
was exceedingly cunning and distrustful, and it shewed an anxiety to
carry off things of all description to its place of retreat, which were
not without difficulty regained; it thus concealed its food, and is
stated to have seized on bones in preference to flesh. Both this

* Steedman’s Wanderings in South Africa, ii., 114.

+ Since penning the above, we have found a notice,in the Annales des Sci-
ences Naturelles, (tom. v., p. 227, new series), of the Spotted Hyzena being met
with in Senegal, Cuvier remarks, in his Ossemens Fossiles, that a figure of it
occurs in an ancient manuscript of Oppian.

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 69

and the H. crocuta, narrates Dr. Smith, unequivocally, are in the
habit of carrying bones to their wild retreats, and of employing
themselves in crushing them during the day. The captive indivi-
dual adverted to killed and devoured a young Dog, its companion.

THe Srrirep Hya#na

(H. vulgaris, Desm. ; H. antiquorum, Temm.; H. striata, Zimm.;

Canis hyena, of Linnezus).

Is the only existing member of the sub-family met with out of
Africa, being found from India to Abyssinia and Senegal, inclusive.
Bruce thought, however, that he could distinguish the Hyena of
Syria from that of Barbary, by a more Dog-like muzzle. It is rea-
dily known by the distinct black stripes crossing the body and limbs,
and conspicuous thick mane continued along the whole spine; a
great black space on the fore-neck, that recals to mind the Civets,
Size, that of a large Dog, but shorter-bodied, or about four feet
four inches from snout to base of tail ; the tail eleven inches more,
or with its hair one foot five ; height at the shoulders two feet four,
and at the croup about three inches less.* Colour uniform pale
brownish-grey, or somewhat darker above than beneath, with irre-
gular black transverse stripes on the body and limbs, disposed
obliquely on the shoulders and haunches. Front of the neck, outside
of the ears, and muzzle black ; and a thick bushy mane, composed
of hairs from six to nine iat i long (increasing in length back-
ward), and hanging over on each side, along the whole nape and
spine till lost in the tail-brush, and which is erected when the ani-
mal is threatening. The mane and tail both marked with blackish

* Bruce mentions one that measured five feet nine inches from muzzle to
tail; but none have been seen in Europe approaching those dimensions. He
must have meant the total length to the end of the tail-tuft, which just
agrees with the admeasurements above given, taken from a fine and well-
stuffed specimen, exceedingly well mounted, in the museum of the Zoologi-
cal Society. The dimensions above given by Bruce are copied from Cuyier’s
Ossemens Fossiles ; but we find, on reference to the Appendix to Bruce’s
Travels, which we had no opportunity of referring to when the above was
written, that that author specifies his admeasurement from nose to tail, in-
_ sisting much on the great size of a particular breed of Striped Hyzenas, of
which the specimen adverted to was an example, and which breed may yet
prove to be specifically different.

70 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

spots and stripes, variously and irregularly placed. The body-
markings differ considerably in intensity in different individuals, and
we have seen one wherein the stripes were so much broken and
scattered as scarcely to deserve the name.

This widely-diffused species about Mount Libanus, Syria, the
north of Asia, and in the vicinity of Algiers, is known, according
to Bruce, to feed mostly upon large succulent bulbs, as those of the
Fritillarie ; and that author informs us that he has known large
spaces of fields turned up by it to get at onions and other roots,
which are chosen with such care, that, after peeling them, all such
are rejected as are tinged with rottenness, as before noticed. Shaw,
the traveller, likewise asserts, that, in default of other food, it will
eat the roots of plants, and will feed on the tender shoots of palms.
He speaks of it as an unsociable animal, solitary, and inhabiting the
chasms of the rocks. In Abyssinia, and other hot climates, however,
the Striped Hyena becomes much more carnivorous, and a perfect
pest from its abundance, which is induced, in some degree, by the
unclean habits of the inhabitants, who leave the Hyenas to per-
form the office of scavengers in removing a vast quantity of decay-
ing animal matter. So far they are indeed useful, but their
multiplication is thus obviously encouraged to a noxious extent ; for
they resort to the towns and villages in multitudes at dusk, destroy
every domestic animal to which they can gain access, and if they
do not habitually attack man, from whom they are rather disposed
to flee, still it is not exactly pleasant to hear them grunting all
around, to encounter them at every turn, or to be awoke, as the
traveller Bruce was on one occasion, by something moving under
his bed, to be greeted by the night-sparkling glare of the eyes of one
of these animals, trying to make off with his bunch of candles!
We have never heard of either this or the Spotted Hyzna injuring
a grown human being under such circumstances, but infants are
particularly subject to be carried off by them. The statement that
the Striped Hyena inhabits South Africa rests on the solitary testi-
mony of Levaillant, who appears to have met with it in the country
of the Great Namaquas, towards the tropic of Capricorn.* It cer-
tainly does not occur towards the Cape.

We have next to describe a very singular little animal, the denti-

“ See the narrative of his second expedition, vol. iii., 68, English transla. —
tion. He distinguishes all three species,

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 71

tion of which is sufficiently curious as compared with all the rest
of the Carnivore, but particularly so in reference to the Hyena
genus, to which, in other respects, it is proximately allied.

Tue Prorie (Proteles,* Is. Geof.),

The incisors and canines of which present no deviation from the or-
dinary form, and are duly developed, though the exterior incisors
are not large ; but the complement of molars is deficient, and such
as are present appear as though their development had been pre-
maturely arrested at an early stage. | :
There are, in all, four cheek-teeth on each side above, of very
small size, and separated from each other, especially the hindmost,
which presents a tuberculous surface, having two tubercles; the
three others being pointed false molars, and simply conical. In the
lower jaw there are two analogous false molars, which lock on
either side of the middle one above, the second having a slight
trace of a posterior process ; and situate much further backward,
but anteriorly to the upper true molar, is a third below, having
two little points, and also a small tubercle. The scissor-teeth are
altogether wanting ; and of what use the other diminutive molars
can be to the animal is assuredly not obvious ; Dr. Smith, indeed,
asserts that they often fall out at an early age.t The incisors: be-
longing to the only skull we have seen were singularly worn down,
as if much more employed by this than any other of the Carnivora.
In other respects, the Protle is almost a miniature striped Hyzna,
but with more slender limbs, a developed fifth toe on the fore-feet, a
smooth tongue, smaller head, and finer brushy tail ; and not. only
without the two additional pairs of ribs, but having one pair less
than the Lycaons and Dogs: the anal pouch, with its transverse
aperture, is precisely similar. Only one species is known,

Tue Crestep Protez,

(Pr. cristatus, Auct. ; Pr. Lalandii, Is. Geof. 3 Viverra Hyenoides,
Cuv., originally),

Or Aard-Wolf (“ earth-wolf”) and Nadrou Jackal, of the Cape co-
lonists. It is less than a common Fox, of a greyish colour, with

* Ilgornats, undeveloped ; in reference to the structure of the molars.
+ African Zoology, p. 48.

72 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY

fewer transverse streaks than the Striped Hyzna, a long, thick
mane, particularly upon the shoulders (where the hairs measure six
inches in length), and fine brushy tail, as before remarked. We
will copy Dr. Andrew Smith’s more particular description of it.

“Length, from nose to base of tail, three feet ; of tail, thirteen
inches: height at the shoulder seventeen inches, at croup about
fifteen. Muzzle black, thinly covered with some fine reddish fur ;
hair between the eyes nearly black ; the upper and lateral parts of
the head pencilled black and reddish-white, each hair being annu-
lated with these colours ; under surface of the lower jaw black ; ears
with a thin covering of blackish hairs externally, their inner sur-
face bare, excepting the margins, which are covered with a whitish
hair. . Woolly hair of the neck and body very abundant ; and yel-
lowish-white, clouded with subrufous towards the. surface, blackish
towards the body: bristly hairs abundant on the upper part of the
neck and centre of the back, where they form the mane, and are
annulated black and white ; on the sides they are scanty, yellowish-
white, and much longer than the woolly hair. On each side of the
neck, a little below the mane, a longitudinal blackish stripe ; on the
body and shoulders a number of vertical stripes ; and on the extre-
mities towards the body several transverse bands of the same colour,
on a ground-tint similar to that of the body. Lower parts of the
extremities deep black in front, and on the sides; rufous-white be-
hind: throat, breast, and belly, yellowish-white: tail, towards its
root, variegated yellowish-white and black ; the last two-thirds ap-
pearing nearly black, the hairs being only yellowish-white towards
their bases. In the female, the woolly hair has scarcely any of the
subrufous tints which are abundant in old males, and the mane is
not so dark: indeed, all the colours may be stated to be of a lighter
hue.”* The young, when very small, resemble the adults.

This animal has hitherto been met with principally in South
Africa, where, according to Dr. Smith, it is not very abundant; but
it appears that a specimen has likewise been killed in Upper Egypt,t ©
though whether of the exact same species remains to be ascertained.
Should it prove so, which is not generally the case with the quad-
rupeds of North and South Africa, the probable inference would
be, that its principal habitat is within the tropics.

It is a very timid animal, and social with its own kind. ‘ Under-

* African Zoology, p. 48.
+ M. Is. Geof. St. Hilaire, Annales des Sciences Naturelles, tom. iv. 252,
new series.

DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY. 73

standing it to be rather numerous,” writes Mr. Steedman, “in the
neighbourhood of the Vanstaden River’ (near Algoa Bay), ‘and
being desirous of obtaining a specimen, I accompanied a farmer in
search of the burrows. We soon discovered the spoor or track of
these animals quite fresh ; and following it for some distance over
sandy hillocks thickly covered with bushes, we at length found their
retreat; which, to all appearance, they had recently quitted. It:
was a subterraneous cave, with several holes, each leading to one
principal cell. _ It seemed that these holes were intended. to facili-
tate escape in case of attack, the animal being extremely timid. In
proof of this, I may mention the circumstance of the farmer who ac-
companied me having, upon one occasion, ventured to take away
the young, without any apprehension of being interrupted by the

old ones, which had fled at his approach. After a day spent im

fruitless search, we were unable to get even a sight of this curious
animal. The farmer informed me that, on moonlight nights, he
had frequently seen as many as ten or fifteen of them together,
prowling among the hills in pursuit of prey, and raising a most
frightful howl.”* | Levaillant mentions occasionally distinguishing
the howl of some quadruped, besides that of the Hyzna and that of
the Cape Jackal, about his encampments at night, which his Hot-
tentots informed him was the Aard-Wolf: whatever it might be,
he adds, it fed along with the Jackals and Hyenas.t

The Protle is stated to prey on very young Lambs, and to attack
the massive fatty protuberance on the tails of the African Sheep.{
No doubt it also feeds on very putrid carrion, so far decomposed as
to require no further division than can be effected by tugging at it
with the canines ; a supposition which, indeed, is favoured by the
circumstance of the lower canines being a little curved. Its dental
system must, of course, incapacitate it for severing flesh, one that
of exceedingly tender young animals.

Having now seed of all the known existing species of Hy-
ceninee, and described them somewhat in detail, we trust that we
have also disposed of the statement that the teeth constitute the
essential character of Mammalia, upon which the group might even
be exclusively constructed ; inasmuch as it appears that the dental
system is subject to adaptive modifications which might occur alike

* Wanderings in South Africa, vol. i., p. 308.
t+ Narrative of second expedition, English translation, ii., 323.
t Is. Geof: St. Hilaire.

VOL. X., NO. XXVIII. 10

4

74 DESULTORY SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY.

in genera not especially allied together. Thus, the Hyenas and
Cats present a somewhat analogous dentition, in consequence of the
abbreviation of the muzzle, coincident with a development of the
scissor-teeth, displacing the tuberculous molars, so that one only is
retained above and none below, and that single one is much reduced
in size, presenting a narrow transverse form at most: ‘The Hyznas
and Cats have, accordingly, been erroneously approximated, as they
possess little else in common that does not apply to the Digitigrada
generally. The Hyenas, moreover, pertaining to a natural family
—the Viverride—the members of which are only partly carnivo-
rous, retain a vegetable-feeding propensity, notwithstanding the loss
of the tuberculous portion of their grinders; which renders it ne-
cessary to modify another general proposition, to the effect that the
teeth determine the regimen: the truth being, that the ordained
regimen determined the modification of the teeth in the first in-
stance, though, to whatever extent that modification may be carried,
in species framed on any particular sub-type, a hankering after the
normal regimen of that sub-typical group generally will still be
manifested ; of which the Hyenas afford, perhaps, as remarkable an
example as could be adduced.*

* The foregoing descriptions of the Hyenine are somewhat abridged from
a manuscript general work on the Mammalia, by the author of the Sketches,
which is now in a very forward state, and will be published ina single thick
octavo volume, as soon as he has sufficiently studied the contents of the prin-
cipal continental museums. A similar work on Birds is likewise in progress,
which will probably extend to two volumes.

[ Page 52, last line, for Zupleres, Jourdan, read Eupleres, Doyére; and append,
as a note, the following: Since writing the above, we have seen the figure and
description of this animal published in the Annales des Sciences Naturelles
(new series, vol. iv, p. 270), and are satisfied that it is a true member of the
Insectivora, Cuv. allied to Tupaia and Gymnura. In approximating it to
Cryptoprocta, we were misled by Prof. de Blainville’s arrangement of the Car-
nivora, in vol. viii. of the same work, p. 279.]

75

THE MONK; A STORY OF THE ALPS.

Tue pass of the great St. Bernard has been more than once
recorded in the page of history, as the scene where persevering
enterprise, combined with daring ambition, and supported by bold.
execution, was enabled to conquer apparently insurmountable ob-
stacles, and to render vain even the barriers opposed by nature to
the completion of man’s designs ; and the celebrated Hospice, situ-
ated near the summit of the mountain, has for ages been a perpetu-
ating monument of the power of generous sympathy and warm
benevolence to defy the chills of perennial snows, and the desolation
of dreary solitude.

Though this pass is devoid of many of the magnificent features
that characterize some other of the Alpine tracts, yet its wild and
rugged paths cannot be traversed without feelings of deep interest ;
the memory will revert to the period when Hannibal* led his Car-
thaginian warriors over the stupendous Alps, as some maintain, by
this pass, and poured down his legions with resistless fury on the
richly cultivated plains of Lombardy, then teeming with wealth and
luxury that, ere long, was to enervate even the hardy veterans of
Africa, and compel them to yield to the magic spell of the soft
skies, the cooling fountains, and the love-breathing groves of Italy’s
genial clime. Since that period small bodies of troops have occa-
sionally crossed the St. Bernard ;. but the transit of forty thousand

* The ascent of the Alps by Hannibal and his army is described as having
~ occupied nine days. In addition to the obstacles presented to their advance
by the rugged nature of the ground, the hardy mountaineers disputed every
pass with them, and frequently broke their disciplined ranks, or obliged
them to retreat ; but at length, by stratagem and perseverance, the Cartha-
ginian general succeeded in gaining the summit of the mountain, where he
permitted the soldiers to rest two days, after which they commenced the de-
scent, which was found extremely difficult, owing to the steepness of the de-
clivity. At one point a precipice of one thousand feet in depth seemed to
bar their farther progress; and here it was that the well-known artifice of
héating the rocks by fire and dissolving them with vinegar, was resorted to.
From whence the vinegar was obtained, and by what solvent property it
was enabled to reduce primitive granite, the historian omits to mention;
possibly the effervescing wine, for which the valley of Aosta is famous, may
be here signified. This, if given to the soldiers, might, by its refreshing
properties, have stimulated their exertion, and enabled them to overcome
the opposing barriers. _

/ a? : THE MONK.

regularly disciplined soldiers, with cavalry, baggage, and two hun-
dred pieces of artillery over this pass, was reserved for the giant
genius and master spirit of Napoleon to accomplish.

It is impossible for any one to form even a faint idea of the mag-
nitude of this undertaking, without visiting its scene. The broken
nature of the ground, the narrowness of the path, the abrupt pre-
cipices, and the deep beds of torrents to be passed over, with the
snow, which, at that early season of the year (in April) was many
feet thick for a considerable part of the route, would all seem to
render the undertaking impracticable ; but an end was to be gained,
and this end (if in human power) Napoleon determined should be
effected. His design succeeded ; he accomplished the pass, and the

field of Marengo bears bloody evidence how completely the ma-
~ neeuvre succeeded.

During the early ages of Christianity great numbers of devotees,
performing pilgrimages, used to pass into Italy by this road ; and it
was principally to aid and relieve these absolution-seeking sinners
that the Hospice established by Bernard, about the tenth century,
was founded. The monks of this monastery are of the order of
St. Augustine; their self-devotion, in thus voluntarily residing,
throughout the perpetual winters of this sterile wilderness, for the
purpose of rendering assistance to weary travellers of whatever de.
scription or country, their active zeal, their benevolent charity, and,
above all, their indefatigable exertions in rescuing from destruction
the unfortunate wayfarer who may have been overwhelmed by the
snow-storm, cannot fail to call for universal gratitude and admira-
tion. Formerly the monks were possessed of considerable property,
and their funds were amply sufficient to entertain gratuitously all
the travellers who took shelter under their hospitable roof ; but the
spoliation consequent upon revolutionary changes in the states and
empires where their lands lay, has materially depreciated their re-
venues ; and at the present time they gladly receive any contribu-
tions which generosity or philanthrophy may dictate to the visitor.

During a short stay in Switzerland, in the year 18—, I had
occasion to visit the Hospice of St. Bernard, and to become perso-
nally acquainted with some of its inmates.

It was on a bright morning in the early part of the month of
November—(a month sometimes unjustly libelled; for, notwith-
standing its general gloom, it is not always productive of clouds and
despondence alone ; there are occasionally cheering gleams, bright
oases, and sunny hours, when nature seems to throw off the veil of
mist that has been spread over her beautiful face, and to smile even

*

‘THE MONK. ; 77

on the “ seared and yellow leaves” which lie scattered on her bosom,
whilst the birds sing blithely as in the first break of early spring)—
I set out for the small town of Martigny, with the intention of
resting one night at the Hospice, and proceeding the next day on
my journey into Italy. I took with me two stout peasants to act
as guides; we were all mounted on mules, that being the most
convenient mode of ascending the pass. ‘The extraordinary sagacity
and more than human foresight of these animals, when in the perils
of the mountain tracts, render their services of the highest value to
the traveller. It was advisable to take every precaution; for
though the weather was now clear and open, this could not be relied
on beyond the present hour, particularly at such an advanced season
of the year. Should a storm overtake the traveller whilst on his
way, unless he has some person thoroughly acquainted with the
mountain paths to direct him, there is every danger of losing the
track and perishing in the storm.

The road, for some time, passes along the banks of the river
Drance, which rushes impetuously down a narrow rocky channel,
sometimes dashing over perpendicular ledges many feet in height,
or foaming amongst the broken fragments of stone which every-
where strew its bed. .We halted for three hours at the village of
Liddes, in order to recruit the mules for the remaining part of the
ascent, which, from this place, becomes steeper and more broken.
We here learned that a considerable quantity of snow had fallen
during the previous days, and that there was much difficulty and
some danger in proceeding ; but as I was determined, if possible, to
reach the Hospice that evening, and it was now but mid-day, I pro-
cured another guide to accompany us on foot, and assist in case of
any accident ; after replenishing our brandy-flasks, we set out with
stout hearts and warm cloaks on our perilous journey. The road
lies up a deep valley bounded on either side by bold rocks and snow-
covered peaks, from which the sunbeams were reflected with almost.
painful vividness. After leaving the hamlet of St. Pierre, all ves-
tiges of habitation cease; the paths wind for a short distance
through a forest of pine and larch, which, however, soon ceases, and
the alpine rose, a species of Rhododendron, alone blooms in the so-
litude ; the stream assumes the character of a brawling torrent ; the
path becomes narrow and rugged ; and the whole scene presents as
wild and desolate an appearance as it is possible toimagine. - After
about two leagues we passed a small chalet, where, in the summer;
milk and other refreshments may be procured. We now began to
find the journey extremely troublesome, and made but slow pro-

78 , THE MONK,

gress ; the snow was so soft, owing to its recent fall, that the mutes
sank in above their knees at every step. We were, therefore,
obliged to dismount, and proceed on foot with the assistance of long
staves, with which we had provided ourselves. In the mean time,
the sun was obscured by dense clouds, the sky became overcast, and
a low moaning noise, like the sound of the distant ocean, occasion-
ally broke on the otherwise death-like stillness. ‘There was a chill-
ing gloom cast around every object, respiration became difficult and
oppressive, from the attenuated state of the atmosphere. The walk-
ing was toilsome and difficult in the extreme, frequently as much
ground being lost by one unfortunate slip, as had ge several
steps to gain.

We had advanced in this manner for some time in silence, when
I felt a smarting, prickling sensation on my face, and I turned to
one of the guides to inquire its meaning. He pointed to the mules,
and I observed that the vacant saddles were covered with small
white particles. ‘‘ It is the snow,” he said, ‘‘ and the storm is ga-
thering fearfully fast about us. Do you see yon peak?” I strained
my eyes in the direction where he pointed, and saw, at a considera-
ble distance, a craggy point, which was scarcely discernible through
the increasing darkness. ‘‘So long as we can descry that point we
are safe,” he continued, ‘‘ but we must lose no time.” ‘ How far
are we from the convent?” I asked. “A strong league yet,” he
replied ; “but I have traversed the way often, and know it well,
every spot is familiar to me by day and night.” He said this in a
seemingly careless manner, but there was a degree of anxiety about
his tone and gesture which did not escape my notice.

The speaker was a tall, athletic man, about forty years of age.
From the strength and symmetry of his figure he seemed formed to
endure hardship and to achieve enterprise ; his countenance was
open and intelligent, and his broad forehead and dauntless eye at
once bespoke courage and daring, combined with prudence and fore-
sight. I had had much conversation with him during the day, and
had learned some of his history. He was a native of Thun, and
had, in common with all the Swiss peasantry, that devoted attach-
ment to country and home which has become proverbial. During
his early life he had passed through most of the European states, in
the capacity of courier to different travellers, and possessed a good
deal of information, with a superiority of air and language to the
generality of his class. I felt. the atmost confidence and reliance in
this man’s knowledge and guidance, for faithfulness to trust has
ever been the characteristic of the Swiss nation. The sequel proved

THE MONK. | 79

that [had not formed a wrong estimate of his character. The other
person we brought from Martigny proved to be quite a youth, and
but little acquainted with the pass. He began to show signs of fa-
tigue and exhaustion soon after we reached the snow, and was now
incapable of proceeding without assistance. His frequent request
was to sit down and rest, but this would have been at once leaving
him to his fate ; for when the feeling of drowsiness is yielded to in or-
der to get a little temporary ease, the unfortunate victim presently
falls into a deep sleep, from which he never more awakes. We
therefore urged him to proceed, I supporting him on one side, and
the man who had accompanied us from St. Pierre occasionally aiding
both, while Stierry, our experienced guide, kept a few paces in ad-
vance. Tothe exertion required in sustaining my burden, and the
excitement consequent upon it, I was probably indebted for my life.
That benumbing sensation of the extremities which is generally the
forerunner of complete paralysis, had begun to overpower me; and
it was only by a very strong effort that I could throw it off to take
an active part in our present situation, which every moment became
more hazardous. The light had nearly faded, and an impenetrable
veil was fast shrouding the heavens, the breeze came in fitful
gusts, and the icy spicules increased in quantity. I looked towards
the beacon of our hope ; it was still visible through the dimness, but
heavy clouds rested over it, and seemed about to wrap it within
their dark folds. Our progress was necessarily slow, having to drag
our companion along at every step. ‘To have left him in his hope-
less condition, was not in English or Swiss hearts. It was still half
a league to the Hospice, and the night was upon us. Not a word
was spoken, but we persevered. The path for some time had been
between two lofty ridges of rock, which, in some degree, screened it
from the storm ; but we now entered on an open exposed tract of
the mountain, where there was nothing to interrupt the violence
of the tempest, which now burst upon us with appalling fury. The
wind, as if hitherto disappointed of its prey, swept with resistless
impetuosity across the barren waste, whirling the snow round and
round, and dashing it against us with such force as to produce con-
siderable pain. It was impossible to distinguish any object, even at
the shortest distance, the immense quantity of falling particles to-
tally obscuring vision ; the breath, too, was: now drawn with in-
creased difficulty, and to advance was like facing a cataract. The
mules uttered a plaintive cry, and shrank cowering before the blast:
We sheltered ourselves in the best way we could behind them, and
waited until the extreme violence of the storm should be past; in a

80 THE MONK.

few minutes the power of the hurricane seemed partly exhausted,
but the snow fell fast as ever.

Stierry was by my side: ‘*We must move from this place at all
risks,’ he said, ‘‘ or our bed will be a cold one, and our sleep long.”
*‘ Which way lies the road?” I inquired. ‘“ I must endeavour,” he
replied, “ to discover it ; it is marked by wood posts, put down at
intervals ; and if I can find one of these we may perhaps reach
better quarters.” He spoke with a calm decision and presence of
mind, that were well calculated to inspire hope and confidence.
* Hold fast the end of this cord,” he continued, “ when I call to you ©
to follow it, join me.” Then, attaching the other end to his own
arm, he went to such a distance as the length of the line (which
was considerable) would allow, and described a circuit. By these ©
means the cord was brought in contact with the desired object.
We soon heard the signal, and with the assistance of our clue we
readily gained the spot where he stood, which was marked by one
of the guide-posts before mentioned. He now advanced, as before,
to the next post, and we followed, when the word was given, in
like manner. We pressed on for some time, alternately halting
and proceeding on our way, as our intrepid conductor ascertained
the safety of the ground; and we had begun to entertain great
hopes of extricating ourselves ; but these hopes were soon doomed
to be crushed. After waiting a much longer time than usual with-
out receiving the signal, J became alarmed. Stierry returned, and
said he had sought in vain for the next mark to direct our path, and
**to proceed,” he continued, “ without knowing it, were but to
court our fate.” ‘ Would it not be practicable,” I asked, “to return
and take shelter in the chalet we passed?” No,’’ he replied, “ J
might be enabled to retrace my steps, but for you it would be impos.
sible.” “Then go,” I exclaimed, “why sacrifice more lives than
are required?” ‘* Because,” he replied, ‘“‘ I would rather die than
desert my trust. It shall never be said that Henry Stierry forsook,
in the hour of peril and adversity, those he was bound to assist, and
would have followed through sunshine and prosperity. If I cannot
change your lot, I can at least shareit. Nothing now remains qut
for us to draw close together, and endeavour to keep out this intense
cold.” I could not but admire, and be deeply affected with, his at-
tachment and fidelity, and saw it was vain to urge him farther.

Whilst he spoke, I felt the blood which had been warmed by the
exertion and interest of our perilous circumstances, flow back with
icy chillness to the heart ; and a full consciousness of our utterly
hopeless condition, for the first time, came upon me. We obeyed

THE MONK. 81

the last injunction of our guide, and all crept close to each other,
when, after addressing a joint and fervent supplication to Heaven,
we awaited in silence our doom, which now seemed inevitable. I
soon began to experience a return of those sensations of numbness
which had been for a time overcome, together with an indescribable
giddiness and exhaustion, which promised speedily to render me in-
capable of receiving external impressions. I had been in this state
for some time, and was fast sinking into insensibility, when a strange
sound struck upon my ear. At first it was blended with all the
confused feelings of a bewildered fancy, but it came again and again,
distinct and certain. I raised myself, and laid my hand on Stierry’s
arm, but he did not move. I called to him; he started, and in-
quired what I needed. ‘ Listen,” I replied. ‘ What sound is
that? I have heard it more than once: now, now it comes again ;
it is like the distant bark of a dog.” He laid his ear down to the
snow for an instant, then, springing to his feet, he exclaimed, “ It
is! itis! we may yet be saved! That sound is the signal of re-
lief; some of the brave souls from the monastery are out to-night
on their errand of mercy. God grant they may turn this way !”
We could now plainly distinguish the deep baying of a dog, and
imagined we could occasionally discover human voices swelling on
the breeze: then again all was still, perfectly still: hope died with-
in us, and the heart became sick. It might be nothing but the
wind wailing through the rugged ravines, or the mountain spirits
revelling with demoniac glee in the desolation of the storm. Again
the sounds were borne upon the gale; they approached, and again
died away: to have aid so near, and yet with the possibility that it
might never reach us, rivalled even the tortures of Tantalus. Could
we but make our situation known, deliverance was at hand. We
shouted with all the vehemence of mingled hope and despair, but
our voices went faintly over the expanded waste. That instinctive
and mysterious love of life which is implanted in every breast, and
which is only extinguished by the utter annihilation of being, now
rekindled the almost expiring spark of vitality in our companions.
They joined their voices to ours, and we continued our efforts.. In
a short time, we had the inexpressible delight of knowing that our
deliverers were advancing rapidly to the rescue; the gleam of
torches was now discovered through the darkness, and soon after the
noble mastiff,* who first apprized us of the coming succour, had

* In the museum at Berne there is preserved the skeleton of one of these
sagacious animals, who for many years was well known on the Great St. Ber-
VOL. X., NO. XXVIII. ]]

82 THE MONK.

by his unerring sagacity discovered our resting-place. He exhibited
every symptom of satisfaction, by leaping about us, and rubbing
himself against different parts of our bodies, in order to impart a
portion of warmth to the frozen limbs; while, ever and anon, he
uttered two or three short barks, to inform those who were ap-
proaching that he had found something which required their imme-
diate attendance. Twelve or fourteen persons now appeared, some
carrying flambeaux, others provided with long poles and roves, The
help came most opportunely, as by this time the whole of our party
were incapable of moving. We were quickly conveyed to the Hos-
pice, and soon safely deposited within its sheltering walls. Here,
all the usual remedies were employed to restore circulation, and
with complete success ; cordials were administered in due time ; and
with the luxury of a good fire, warm clothing, and refreshing food,
the perils we had gone through were almost forgotten, and we re-
tired to rest, fervently thanking the wise Director of all events for
our preservation, and the monks of St. Bernard as the instruments
with which it had been accomplished.

During the next and several succeeding days, the weather was so
tempestuous that it was not deemed advisable for me to continue my
journey. I therefore gladly accepted the kind invitation of the fa-
thers to rest under their roof until a favourable change in the ele-
ments should permit me to proceed in safety. In this time I had an
opportunity of learning much of the domestic economy of their
establishment, remarking minutely the habits and manners of its
inmates. The individuals composing this community are a simple-
hearted, unsophisticated set of men. Separated from the rest of the
world, both by the nature of their vocation, and their peculiar loca-
lity, they are untainted by the prejudices, vices, and foibles of busy
life. They neither make nor meddle in the affairs and events which
disturb general society. ‘They know but little of the ambition and
intrigue by which states and empires are governed, or of the specu-
lations and controversies which agitate scientific inquiry. There
are, indeed, exceptions to this rule in men who (disappointed and
disgusted at finding noxious weeds springing up at every step in
what they had visionarily pictured the bright flower-garden of life)
have, after gathering some of the bloom from the passing hours,
and perhaps finding it mingled with the bitter poison of blighted
hope, turned from the delusive mirage, and devoted the remainder

nard, and is said to have been the direct means of saving fifteen human
beings from the death that awaited them.

~

THE MONK. 83

of their days to the solitude of a cloister. Amongst this number, I
judged Father Stephano to have been. He was a man about thirty-
five years of age, although the lines of suffering and sorrow were so
visibly impressed upon his countenance that he appeared much
older. His customary bearing was reserved and melancholy ; but
at times the momentary gleam which spread over his dark features,
and the restless glances which flashed from his expressive eyes, told
the workings of a proud and sanguine spirit not altogether subdued
to endure the present, or steeled to the memory of the past. I had
a strong desire to become better acquainted with this person, as he
had been particularly active in our rescue, and seemed to possess a
superior mind to his companions. At first, he withdrew from every
advance to confidence: he even shunned the politeness of common
intercourse ; but, in time, he yielded so far as to converse freely on
indifferent subjects, and asked numerous questions relating to pass-
ing events and general opinions.

His remarks exhibited a depth of understanding, and an intimate
acquaintance with the world, which could only have been acquired
by mixing with society and studying carefully the motives and pas-
sions which actuate mankind. He possessed liberal principles and
noble sentiments and a generous heart, but all his views were
clouded and discoloured with a morbid sensibility, an over-wrought
estimation of what things should be, which made him look upon
present realities with a jaundiced eye. It seemed as if his early
dream of happiness had fled, that the stream which fed his young
aspirations, and in whose crystal bosom he had seen reflected the
bright prospect of a golden future, was changed to a dark and
turbid current, which had swept away all his fairy palaces and
elysian groves, and had left him nothing to contemplate on the
dreary ocean of existence, but the remembrance of false anticipations
_ and withered hopes.

The weather continued so inclement that I was obliged to remain
several weeks at the Hospice ; and, before my departure, I gained
so-far on the confidence of Father Stephano as to induce him to
relate to me many interesting particulars regarding events which
had taken place on the St. Bernard, since his sojourn amongst the
brotherhood. One adventure of which he was an eye-witness, and
which was attended with the most singular and romantic circum-
stances, I shall now endeavour to describe as near as possible in his
own words. Having one day, after our principal meal, replenished
the blazing hearth with some dry wood, and drawn our seats

84 THE “MONK.

within the influence of its reviving warmth, the monk commenced
as follows :—

“‘ Nearly four years have now elapsed,” he began, “since the cir-
cumstances I am about to relate took place ; yet the occurrences of
yesterday are not more distinctly impressed on my memory than
are the most minute incidents which then happened.

“The season had been unusually open, and many persons had
crossed the mountain with ease, at a considerably later period than
the present. It was at the close of an evening, when some travel-
lers arrived at the Hospice, and sought shelter for the night. They
had ascended from Martigny, and seemed much fatigued with
the journey ; the party consisted of an English gentleman, his
daughter, and their domestics. Every accommodation that our roof
could afford was speedily furnished them, and they were soon able
to partake of some refreshment in the saloon. During the repast,
more visitors arrived who had come up from the side of Piedmont ;
these comprised an Italian nobleman, with his lady and their retain-
ers. On being brought into the saloon, the count glanced round
the apartment ; and, perceiving the strangers, he turned haughtily
away and enquired whether he could not have private accommoda-
tion ; but the countess drew towards the fire, (near which the pre-
vious guests were seated), and made some general remarks. She
was about to place herself at the board, when she was arrested by
the intense gaze of the younger English traveller, which was fixed
full upon her. They were both silent, when a sudden exclamation
—Pauline! Mary! now burst simultaneously from either of them,
and the next moment they were folded in each other’s embrace.
This extraordinary scene was quickly explained. When girls, they
had been at the same school together at Geneva, and had there
formed a romantic, but sincere friendship. Events hereafter to be
mentioned had divided them for some years. ‘They had never even
communicated by letter, and knew not of the changes that each had
experienced. It may be, therefore, imagined what inexpressible
delight this unexpected meeting had afforded them. When the
first emotions of surprise were past, the young countess presented
her husband to her English friends. He made the acknowledge-
ments of courtsey with cold civility, which could not pass un-
observed ; it caused the indignant blood of wounded pride to man-
tle on the cheek of the countess, whilst it only called a smile of
conscious superiority and good natured pity, to curl the lip of the
Englishman, who retucned the greeting of the Italian i in a manner
more polite, but not the less distant.

THE MONK. 85
®

“The two female companions had much to converse about, many
questions to ask, and many strange adventures to hear ; but, as they
were both tired with the exertion of the day, and needed rest and
sleep, the count consented, though reluctantly, to stay the next day
at the monastery, in order to afford them the gratification of each
other’s society. ‘The following morning, clouds enveloped the moun-
tain, the air was piercingly cold, the wind howled dismally, the spi-
rit of the storm was let loose, and stalked from crag to crag with
devastating strides. The winter had now commenced in its deep-
est intensity ; and, like the cold heartlessness of the world which
freezes every stream of generous impulse and chills every bud of
promised happiness, it quickly changed the face of all that was fair
and bright, to one blank desert. But, unlike that winter of the
soul, it shall again yield to genial spring, and flowers shall bloom
and rills meander, where now the eye finds nothing but lifeless ste-
rility to rest upon ; while for the blighted heart, and the seared
affections there is no green spot; no power to liberate the once
frozen currents of youthful hopes and early visions. The monk
paused, and seemed struggling with some painful emotion which, in
a few seconds, by a strong effort he mastered. The weather re-
mained so tempestuous and severe, he resumed, that those only who
were well acquainted with the various paths and turnings of this
wilderness, and had been long inured to its hardships dared venture
abroad. The travellers were all detained in the Hospice, and it
was many days before they were enabled to proceed on their
journey.

“It will be necessary to refer to many circumstances that happened
previously to the period of which I speak, to enable you to under-
stand the subsequent events. Colonel Hamilton was an English
gentleman of good family, but small fortune. At the commence-
ment of his career, he followed the profession of arms from a pure
love of glory, and a chivalrous spirit of enterprize. He was enthu-
siastic and impetuous, holding all danger at defiance, when only his -
own personal hazard was involved, but ever prudent and considerate
where the lives or safety of others might be at stake. He rose to
fame and distinction ; rank and honour waited upon him; his name
stood foremost in deeds of valorous exploits. The world was all
bright before him ; but this was not to last. He was soon to re-
ceive a blow from an unseen hand that would dim all his fair pros-
pects, and dash the cup of sweets from his lips—a blow, that would
at once make shipwreck of all his fondly cherished anticipations, and
leave him a prey to vain sorrows and unavailing regrets.

86 THE MONK.
°

“In the very zenith of success, his wife—she who had accom-
panied him through all his fortunes—the being who could alone
temper the ebullitions of his too exuberant feelings, or pour the
balm of consolation into his wounded spirit—the companion who
had shared all his toils and griefs, who participated in all his hopes
and fears—the creature on earth he loved more dearly than all that
wealth and power, or fame could give, was snatched from him by
the relentless hand of death. After this bereavement, he no longer
took any part in public affairs, he disposed of his commission, left
his native land, with all the scenes of his early youth, and settled
in Switzerland, on the banks of the Lake of Geneva, where he re-
sided for many years with his only child, the young and beautiful
Mary. All his care was directed to her education. All his happi-
ness was centred in her welfare. She was the last link that bound
him to the world, the green leaf that distilled vitality into his
withered heart. He loved to look upon her; he loved to trace
the development of her character through each succeeding year ;
and he was richly repaid for all he had bestowed. Her gentle
assiduity, her ceaseless solicitude for his comfort, her more than
filial obedience, came soothingly to his. broken spirit. Her
high sentiments of virtue, and pure principles of religion, might
have shamed many a sage, and taught even her father to for-
get his woes and to kiss the rod that chastened him. Time
and his daughter’s love had in a great measure softened the
poignancy of his grief; and, though happiness, as he had once
known it, was dimmed for ever, yet he felt that there were many
bright things in store for him. If a fleeting cloud occasionally
crossed his brow, it was but as the passing ripple on the bosom of
the lake when some slight breeze skims its surface, but is incapable
of agitating the calmed depths of its serenity. His transitory gloom
was always quickly dispelled by the silver-toned voice of Mary who,
at these times would sing to him some of the plaintive airs of their
native country, or swell the rich melody of the Swiss mountain lay.
He would often gaze upon her sylph-like form and the perfect sym-
metry of her graceful figure; upon her beautiful and fascinating
blue eyes, which told of nought but innocence and joy ; and on her
expressive countenance forming the faithful index of a spotless
mind; and, as he gazed, his heart would overflow with intense
affection. He would then clasp her to his breast, and call her his
guardian spirit, his only joy, and pour upon her that choicest of all
earthly gifts, a father’s holy benediction. Such was Mary, ere sor-
row and suffering were more to her than mere words. She was yet

THE MONK. 87

to taste the bitter draught of misery, she was yet to know the
pangs of anguish. Even this guileless, gentle being, was not be-
yond the reach of the fell demon, who hovers over the destinies of
man, ever ready to cast his envenomed dart, to strike where the
least expected, and to leave the rankling poison in the wound, to
blacken and destroy.

«* The spot Colonel Hamilton had chosen for his residence was si-
tuated near the small and beautiful domain of M. de Rosenberg, a
Swiss patriot, who had lost much of his property in the disturbances
incident to the French Revolution; but he still possessed this pa-
trimonial estate, on which he resided, if not in affluence, at least in
contentment. Between him and the English colonel a close inti-
macy grew up. Neither of them were disposed to enter into gene-
ral society, but they found in each other’s company a similarity of
taste and habits, which rendered their intercourse. mutually agree-
able. M.de Rosenberg had a son a few years older than Mary ;
as children they were inseparable, both in their hours of play and
their times of study. He was always her little protector, and she
looked to him as her friend and brother. In the course of time, he
went to one of the German universities to finish his education ; on
his return after several years, he found Mary changed from
the pretty engaging child he had left, to a beautiful fascinating
girl, just budding into womanhood. They were now, as_ before,
constant companions. Often would they wander amid the mazes of
copse and vineyard which adorn the banks of the lake. Often, on:
a soft summer’s evening, would they gaze across the expansive
waters, and watch the small boats with their white sails gliding
silently and tranquilly across its glassy bosom. At other times,
they would climb the surrounding hills, rising as an amphitheatre ;
and, from some lofty terrace, gaze on the more magnificent features
of nature, as displayed in the distant Alps, with their snow-clad
peaks, and in the towering summit of Mont Blanc, soaring high
above the rest in its lone majesty. All their pursuits, all their
thoughts, bore the same impress and tended to the same end. They
had but one object—but one heart. No wonder, then, that he loved,
and that she returned his affection with as deep and as fervent a pas-
sion as ever glowed in the breast of woman. They knew no deceit.
Nor did they attempt to conceal their attachment. Their love was
approved. Their fathers beheld with delight the increasing fondness
of their children, and looked on their union as the accomplishment
of each one’s happiness. Time rolled on, and the period was fast

88 THE MONK,

approaching when Arthur was to plight his vows to Mary in the
face of Heaven, and before the eyes of men ; to give his pledge to
love and cherish her as his own soul.

««M. de Rosenberg possessed a small estate in one of the distant
cantons, from which a considerable sum of money was due ; and, as
Arthur had never been in that district, his father sent him to the
town of , near which the property was situated, to make the
necessary inquiries. Before setting out on his journey, which
would occupy him some days, the youth went to take leave of his
beloved. They spoke much of their long and often-told love ; of
their approaching marriage, and the years of joy that awaited them.
When they parted, he pressed her fondly to his bosom, and imprinted.
one pure kiss on those lips whose breath was more precious to him
than the scented breeze from spicy groves.

«‘ A week passed, and Arthur didnot return. His friends became
anxious ; day succeeded day, and yet no tidings arrived, and Mary
began to feel that sickness of the heart which ever accompanies
hope too long deferred. At length, a letter came; but its contents
poured no oil on the troubled waters. It came from the young de
Rosenberg, stating that he was in the most imminent peril of his
life, and entreating his father to lose not a moment in coming to
his assistance. M. de Rosenberg immediately set out to the place
from which his son’s letter had been dated. Colonel Hamilton in-
sisted on accompanying him; and they made all speed. In about
‘ three days they arrived at the town of , and found Arthur
lying in the dungeon of a prison under a charge of murder. The
circumstances that led to this untoward event were briefly these.
An Italian priest had been found assassinated in one of the little-
frequented mountain paths. The brother of this priest stated that,
on the day when the murder was perpetrated, he had been pursuing
his customary sport of shooting the goat and chamois, and was re-
turning home by one of those perilous tracks which are only known
to the adventurous hunter, when, at one of the most dreary and
sequestered spots, he discovered the prisoner endeavouring to drag
the body of a man from the way-side, for the purpose of casting it
over some precipice. He approached cautiously, and succeeded in
seizing the criminal before he had time to make resistance. Occur-
rences were all strongly against the young Arthur. He had been
seen to leave the town of in company with the murdered
priest, but a few hours before the deed was committed. A pistol
was found in his possession, that had been recently discharged, and

THE MONK

marks of blood appeared on various parts of his clothes. His accuser
called loudly for justice to be done to the slayer of his brother, and
every one was ready to condemn.

“The meeting of a parent and child under such painful circum-
stances, may be better imagined than described. MM. de Rosenberg
clasped Arthur in one long, fond embrace. He knew—he felt that
his son could not be guilty ; but how was his innocence to be
proved? In vain did the agonized parent try to suggest various
ways of repelling the accusation. All his plans were abandoned as
soon as they were formed; each one was found delusive and im-
practicable. They were like the bubbles of hope rising through
the troubled waters of affliction, and instantly broken as they be-
came exposed to the atmosphere of truth. The simple facts of the
case, as they have been related, he saw must condemn him: He
beheld the prop of his declining years, the child to whom his heart
yearned with the fondest affection, the being who was united to
him in body and soul by the mystic tie of consanguinity—he saw
this beloved one doomed to death and ignominy. He felt that his
own name would be blasted, his reputation stigmatized, his house
dishonoured, his happiness for ever gone. He was regardless of the
soothing consolations that sympathy and friendship can give ; and
even, fora time, religion was incapable of.imparting comfort to him.
He would gaze upon the unfortunate Arthur till the big tears rolled
in rapid succession down his furrowed cheeks, and with one convul-
sive sob he would cast himself on his son’s néck, and call passionately
upon Heaven to witness for his purity.

‘* It is not in human nature at once to confess that whatever is, is
right. When sorrow and misfortune lower, the mind will at first
rebel. The wise sage and the enlightened philosopher, the pure
moralist and the genuine enthusiastic believer in divine interposi-
tion, have all occasionally repined, and questioned the justice of the
decree that fated them to pain and misery. And so it must ever be
with the finite intellect of man. The effects produced by the
mighty power that orders and directs the universe may be seen ; but
the first causes which created those effects; and the ultimate ends to
be attained by them, are beyond the comprehension of mortality.
We find a small seed placed in the earth puts forth a young shoot,
which quickly matures into a magnificent tree; but we know not
how the vital principle is contained in the seed, or by what power
the tree is enabled to perfect its renewing fruits. But to return to
my story. During the few days that elapsed previously to the

VOL, X., NO. XXVIII. 12

90 THE MONK.

trial, Colonel Hamilton used every means to procure all the infor-
motion that might tend to favour his young friend’s cause, and inva-
lidate the testimony of his principal accuser. Both the priest and
his brother were strangers in the town of , no one knew from
whence they came, or had even seen them before.

* At length the dreaded morning arrived, and the justice-hall was
crowded with persons anxious to witness the trial. Arthur walked
through the chamber with a firm step, and took his place at the bar
witha calm and almost proud look. His youth and the natural
ingenuousness of his countenance and manner, together with the
deep anguish marked on the brow of his father as he stood near to
him, and listened with painful intensity to each word that passed,
would have excited compassion in every breast, and produced a feel-
ing of pity and commiseration in every heart. But the crime of
murder, with which the prisoner was charged, was almost unprece-
dented in that peaceful valley, and its author was viewed with the
utmost abhorrence and detestation ; so that every kindlier feeling
and sentiment were forgotten. All the particulars of the case were
now examined, and every circumstance tended to corroborate the
charge of murder, with which he stood accused. When called upon
for his defence, he made the following statement. It was true, he
said, that he had left the town of on the day in question in
company with the priest, and had journeyed with him for some dis-
tance ; when at length they reached a wild and longly spot in the
road, his companion suddenly turned upon him, and, grasping his
arm, presented a pistol to his head and demanded his money: at
first he thought of resisting, but this he soon found to be impossible ;
he therefore tried to remonstrate, and said he had nd money with
him ; the priest pointed to a valuable ring which Arthur wore on
his finger ; this he took off and gave up, in hopes it might satisfy ;
but the other swore, with a savage imprecation, that he would have
something more, and was about to commence rifling his person,
when, watching an opportunity, Arthur shook off the robber’s hold,
and closed with him. The struggle was brief; for the pistol, by
some mischance, went off, and the contents lodged in the side of the
ruffian, who instantly fell. As soon as Arthur had in some degree
recovered the first surprise, he began to examine the state of his an-
tagonist. Life was not totally extinct, but he had no means at
hand of reviving the vital spark, or even of staunching the blood ;
he therefore carried the insensible man a short distance from the
path, in order to place him under the shelter of a rock, intending as
speedily as possible to procure some further assistance. Whilst oc-

THE MONK. 91
cupied thus, he was seen and seized in the manner before mentioned.
After stating these particulars, he concluded by making the most
solemn asseverations of his innocence, and appealing to the humane
pity and justice of his judges to acquit him. He spoke with all the
force and energy of truth, and his words produced a conviction that
he was not guilty in the minds of most of those present who had
come there predisposed against him. His judges were much embar-
rassed. ‘They conferred together for some time, and again interro-
gated his accuser. In reply to their questions, he stated that, after
delivering the prisoner up to the authorities, he returned, accom-
panied by two or three of the police, to a cottage on the mountain,
where the wounded man had been carried by some of the peasants.
They found him quite dead; every part of his dress was carefully
searched, and no ring could be found. The story, however ingeni-
ously devised and plausibly put forth, he believed to be a contempti-
ble fabrication. Not one single proof could be adduced of any thing
that was advanced, it must all be taken on the bare word of the cri-
minal, who, of course, did not hesitate to forge a lie for the purpose
of extricating himself from the penalty of a murder. The accuser,
therefore, called vehemently on the court to condemn the culprit.
Though Arthur’s defence had produced a considerable sensation in
his favour, yet, from its entirely circumstantial nature, it could not
at all alter the law, which preferred the evidence of the accuser to
to the assertion of the accused. He was consequently found guilty,
and his life declared forfeited.

“When the sentence was pronounced, M. de Rosenberg uttered a
ery of anguish that pierced every heart ; and before any one could
come to his aid he fell insensible on the floor of the hall.. Arthur
had heard his doom with calmness, but when he saw his father he
could refrain no longer. Casting himself on his knees by the side
of the wretched old man, he pressed his lips on his cold, clammy
brow ; he clasped the now unconscious hand with the deepest fer-
vour ; and gazing upon him with a look of passionate tenderness,
which soon changed to one of unutterable woe, he wept long and
bitterly. No one attempted to part them. Their grief was too
sacred to be broken in upon, even by a word. All sincerely sympa-
thized in the scene. At length, M.de Rosenberg began to recover,
and was carried out, while his son was re-conducted to his lonely
cell. fa

“The most powerful interest was used in Arthur’s behalf; and
this, united to his youth and the respectability of his connexions,
together with a degree of uncertainty that existed in the peculiar

92 THE MONK.

nature of the case, all combined to procure a commutation of the
sentence of death into a decree of perpetual banishment.

“‘ His father and Colonel Hamilton saw him depart from the town
of an outcast and wanderer, whilst they returned to their once
peaceful homes miserable and heart-broken. One more painful task
was still to be performed—it was to tell Mary of her lover’s fate.
Her father broke the fatal intelligence in the gentlest manner pos-
sible. She heard him patiently and in silence. Her mind had
foreboded evil, and it now came before her in fearful reality. When
he had concluded she shed no tears, nor exhibited any violent emo-
tion; but her eyes were fixed on vacancy with a wild, agonized
intensity. The spring of her life-blood seemed in an instant frozen
at her heart, as her fond father pressed her to his aching breast.
She was helpless ; almost lifeless. The blow had crushed her to
the earth. The iron had entered into her soul. All her dearest
and most cherished anticipations were blasted. The bud of promis-
ing happiness was blighted and withered, at the moment it seemed
ready to burst into full blossom. She would have shared her lover’s
exile, and braved hardship and deprivation with him. She would
have borne shame and infamy. : She would have endured the scorn
and pity of the world. She would have sacrificed home, and every
domestic peace, to have lightened his load of sorrow, and soothed his
ill-starred lot ; for she never doubted his innocence for an instant.
But her father! she could not forsake him; she could not leave
him in his old age to mourn alone, to die unwept. She loved her
parent with a genuine enthusiasm, and resolved to make filial duty
the strongest motive to action. Hers was not a spirit to be alto.
gether subdued by adversity. It was crushed and bruised, but still
it rose from its first state of overwhelmed wretchedness. She felt
that life could have in it nothing bright for her; yet she did not
yield to despair, but endeavoured to beguile her own griefs by the
most watchful affection to her father. He, like Mary, felt perfectly
assured that his young friend was not guilty. But Arthur was un-

der the ban of the law—a convicted felon—a branded assassin: to -

unite his child’s fate with such an outcast was impossible. He
could, therefore, only trust that time might dispel some of the clouds
that rested so heavily on the prospects of the future. He could
only hope that Heaven would, in its good time, clear away the
darkness that now oppressed his house.

«It was soon manifest that the conflict was too severe for Mary’s
physical powers. The secret melancholy that preyed upon her heart
opened a sure way for the approach of insidious disease. ‘The warm

_

THE MONK. 93

glow of health passed from her cheeks, and the sparkling glance no
longer darted from her eyes: that elasticity of step with which she
used to walk so gaily along, with Arthur by her side, was gone.
Her smile was of sadness, and the suppressed sigh would often es-
cape unconsciously, betraying how painful was the struggle in her
bosom. Oh! ’tis a sad and fearful thing to watch the fading flower
—to see it, in life’s first spring, droop day by day—to see its vivid
colours disappear, and all that once was fair and pure and beautiful
to look upon, become a sickly and withered plant. What dew can
again revive the sapless heart? What breeze can again refresh the
blighted affections? Colone] Hamilton saw all this in his child ; it
inflicted a deeper pang than any he had yet experienced. Change
of air and scene were recommended ; and he decided to pass into
Italy, and spend the winter in a softerclimate. It was for this pur-
pose that he set out, rather late in the season, from Geneva. Mary
having expressed a wish to cross the St. Bernard, he took that pass.
They arrived at the Hospice, and were detained by the causes be-
fore stated.”

~The monk here paused, as the evening was far advanced; and
the next day he continued his story. “I must now,” he said, “give
a short history of the early life of the Countess de Vegnet, who, as
mentioned already, arrived here on the same night with the English
travellers, and so unexpectedly encountered her early friend Mary
Hamilton. The countess was of Spanish birth, and the proud blood
that throbbed in her veins claimed descent from a long line of an-
‘eestry. Her person was tall and commanding: dignity and love
were in her every gesture. Her character was marked -by strong
passions, and her sentiments and ideas were of that vivid, almost
morbid, kind, which too frequently entail misery and disappointment
on their possessor. She formed a sincere attachment to Mary when
they were together, though the two were very dissimilar in tastes
and pursuits. Paulina had none of the exuberant spirits and warm
enthusiasm of her light-hearted friend; but the springs of her
feeling were perhaps deeper, and certainly stronger, from not find-
ing a fit channel in which to flow. Whilst Mary had a smile,
or a tear, ever ready to sympathize with each one’s joys or sorrows,
the emotions of Paulina were rarely developed, but by the tale of
some wild or romantic distress. After leaving Geneva, she went to
reside in one of those beautiful valleys that branch from the Black
Forest, and down which the winding and impetuous Meurg takes its
course. On its wild banks, and amid the surrounding picturesque
scenery, several of her succeeding years were passed. And whilst

94 | THE MONK.

the mind gained strength and knowledge, her person was matured
into perfect'symmetry. During this time, her hand had been often
sought by the wealthy and noble, but she had refused all her suitors
with indifference or contempt ; and it seemed that the heart of the
proud beauty was not to be won.

“ Rudolph Willenheim was the son of a neighbouring gentleman,
who had but little rank or fortune to boast of. His lineage was
. pure and noble, and the domains of his sires had, in times gone by,
furnished their swelling train of vassals and dependents. But cir-
cumstances had deprived succeeding generaticns of a portion of their
honours and their lands, and the present Baron Willenheim resided
in comparative poverty and retirement. It was about the time
Paulina had entered her twentieth year that Rudolf returned from
the university, and took his place in the home of his father. From
a child, he had exhibited strong indications of an impetuous and
sensitive temperament. During his education, the visionary notions
he had early imbibed were fostered rather than checked. He de-
voured with avidity all the imaginative works of romance, with
which the German school of literature abounds. He fed upon
them ; they formed part of his existence. He delighted to dwell on
their wild speculations, and to plunge deep into the abstruse mazes
of conjecture and mystery. Though he had lived in the busy world,
and had associated with men, he knew little of their passions or ha-
bits, their vacillations and their malevolence. His world was in his
own breast. There, everything was clothed with sunshine ; every
object was surrounded by a bright halo, that shed upon it one pecu-
liar colour. The lens through which he contemplated the future
was a deceptive one; it showed him things as he wished them to
be, not as they really are. For some time after his return to his
native valley, he loved alone to climb the rocky steeps of the neigh-
bouring mountains, and to gaze over their wide and magnificent ~
prospects ; or to watch the sparkling waterfall, as it leaped from
crag to crag down the rugged dell. He loved to wander by the
rippling stream, and mark its limpid waters flow murmuring on.
He loved to recline beneath the shade of some oak or dark embower-
ing pine, to tell the parting day, and then to hold communion in.
thought with strange creatures not of earth—elves and fairies. It
was on these occasions that he could indulge, undisturbed, the wan-
dering visions of his fevered imagination. From the chimeras of his
heated fancy, he could people the silent solitudes with ideal beings,
and make every tree and shrub instinct with life. He could create
himself their king, and summon with a beck the presiding genii of

THE MONK. 95

the mountains, and the guardian spirits of the sylvan groves, to re-
alise his commands. In the green turf, which rose sloping from the
erystal fountain, enamelled with flowerets of every hue, he beheld
his throne. In the vast vault of heaven, spangled with the count-
less host of blazing stars, he saw his canopy. The pearly dews, as
they lay glittering in the silver moonbeams, were his treasures ; and.
in the whispering boughs, as they waved in the night breeze, he
heard the music of a thousand sylphs. In such reveries would he
often pass away the swift fleeting hours, until midnight surprised
him in his lonely imaginations. He saw Paulina. She instantly
became the queen of his fabled goddesses, and the reality of his most
ideal picturings. A new field was opened to him. Her image was
now associated with every scene. She was the ruling power
that swayed his destiny. But his day dreams were ere long to
be broken, and the magic wand of phantasy to give place to the
unwelcome rod of truth. He met her again, and again. She was
his soul’s idol, and he believed that she returned his love. Yes! he
believed that she felt the same deep intense affection that glowed in
his heart. +

** As may be supposed, Rudolf’s temperament was not one to brook
long delay. His love was not like the soft zephyr that sighs gently
along, stealing with a kiss the sweets from the blushing flower. It
was rather the fierce whirlwind, that bears down every obstacle, and
concentrates every feeling in ene overwhelming vortex. He told
her of his passion. He poured out his whole soul. He spoke in
words of fire. She turned from him with scorn. She replied to
him with disdain. Each syllable fell like scorching metal on his
excited brain, and stung him to madness. He left her. He fled
from the scenes no longer dear to him. He became a hopeless fugi-
tive. Ina few months, tidings reached his friends that he had died
in a distant land. Many mourned his hapless fate, and even Pau-
lina shed bitter, though unavailing tears.

‘«* Years rolled on, and Rudolph ceased to be remembered. When
men mix, and are occupied in the ever-changing events of life, the
interest of the present soon obliterates the impressions of the past.
They behold the green mantle of spring cast over the face of nature ;
they hear the melody of birds, and the glad song of the husbandman
returning from his labours ; they forget the cheerlessness of winter,
and lifeless silence of the fields and groves ; they enjoy the blessings
of peace and the delights of friendship and love; and they no
longer remember the miseries of war, the sword of the destroyer,
and the desolation of bereavement. It is only in barren solitude,

96 THE MONK.

where the quiet tenor of man’s life is unbroken, and where creation
herself refuses to smile in the garish sunbeam, that the chilling win-
ter of the soul, the never-brightening hopelessness of the spirit, can
be felt. It is there that the lone heart can dwell on the remem-
brance of joys for ever gone, and cherish sorrows never to be
effaced. |

“The home of Paulina was situated near a celebrated German wa-
tering-place, much frequented by the idle and curious, as well as
the genuine admirers of natural scenery in all its diversities of subli-
mity and beauty. The ennuéed voluptuary who seeks change merely
to relieve his satiety—the follower of pleasure in its most alluring
forms—the votary of gay revelry and thoughtless dissipation—the
slave uf the burning excitement of the hazard-table, with its seduc-
tive concomitants—all these resorted to B , and there found
opportunities of gratifying their several pursuits. One season,
among the visitors was the Count de Vegnet, an Italian nobleman
of high rank and reputed wealth. He did not enter into the lighter
amusements of the place, but he played constantly and. deeply,
This man became acquainted with Paulina, and professed to enter-
tain for her the most violent passion. She had lately inherited
a considerable property and might be considered an heiress. This
circumstance probably, in a great measure influenced his conduct,
and determined his choice ; for a mind, vitiated and sensualized, like
his, could not feel that pure and holy sentiment which sanctifies the
altar of love. His offering could only be made to the temple of
passion, or on the shrine of avarice. Before leaving B » he
made honourable proposals of marriage to Paulina. Her first im-
pulse was to reject him, but the wishes and commands of her pa-
rents, added to the apparent splendour of the alliance, at length.
prevailed over her scruples. She consented to become his wife.

« After their marriage the count and his lovely countess returned to
the vicinity of Naples, where his estates were situated ; and, for
sometime, Paulina was absorbed in a gay series of pleasures and en-
joyments. Every thing seemed bright. But alas! she soon learned
that pomp and pageant, of themselves, are insufficient to secure
happiness. She soon found, that in the dazzling halls and amid
the blaze of princely magnificence, pangs of lonely wretchedness
might be felt—that beneath the jewelled tiara and the spangled
zone, &@ burning brain might throb, and a bleeding heart might
pulsate. De Vegnet had hitherto appeared under false colours.
He had disguised his real sentiments and opinions in order to ac-
complish an end. Having done this, and having obtained the pos-

THE MONK. 97

session of his wife’s fortune, which had become absolutely necessary
~ to enable him to continue in his habits of lavish extravagance, his
true character began to develope itself. He was mean, selfish and
morose, without one spark of generosity in his soul, without one
noble feeling in his breast. He was implacable in his hatred ; hol-
low and insincere in his friendships. He was the victim of furious

and vindictive passions, which often involved him in private quarrels
not unfrequently ending in scenes of violence and blood. He was

alike feared and despised by all who knew him. With this man
Paulina found, but too late, that she had intrusted her happiness.

At first he shewed her the greatest consideration, and was all kind-
ness and smiles; for his object was to deceive her, as regarded his
real character, until he had induced her, under various pretences, to
place the whole of her property in his hands. This was all he de-

sired, and he had now no motive for acting with duplicity.

The mask was, therefore, thrown off. By degrees, he neglected his
wife, His behaviour became cold and heartless ; and, at last, he
treated her with cruelty and scorn. His house was the resort of
the profligate and abandoned. He was false to his promises, and a
traitor to his marriage vow. For sometime, the proud spirit of
Paulina refused to complain; and, when at length she did remon-
strate, the only answer she met with was insult and derision. It

stung her almost to madness ; whilst he, the black-hearted villain,

saw her, whom he had taken from innocence and joy, plunged deep

in the pit of misery and despair. Yet the fiend knew no compunc-

tion ; the demon felt no pity, no remorse. He wished his victim

dead, in order that nothing might cross the broad path of vice he had

‘determined to pursue.

“‘ Having occasion to take a journey to Paris, the count determined
that his wife should accompany him, although from delicate health,
she was little able to bear the fatigue. He took the road over the
Great St. Bernard; it was on this occasion, that he and his retinue
were detained at the Hospice, as before mentioned.

“ Thus far,” continued the monk, “ I have given you an account of
the individuals who so strangely met here, under such peculiar circum-
stances—and who for some days partook together of our hospitality.
I must now proceed to relate briefly the incidents that occurred du-
ring their stay, and describe the scenes of which I became a witness.
At this time, there was in the monastery a monk who had joined the
fraternity about two years before. _He had ever kept aloof from all
strangers, and as much as possible from the brethren. He appeared

VOL. X., NO, XXVIII, 13

98 THE MONK.

only at the customary devotions, or when it was his turn to attend
upon the sick. But he loved to dare the perils of the mountain path
when the elements were warring in fearful fury. The chilling blast,
the howling tempest, the sweeping storm, and the devastating ava-
lanche, were more congenial to his spirit, than the quiet monotony
of a cloistered life. In consequence of this, he was ever ready upon
any expedition of hazard or danger, and he always accompanied the
servants of the Hospice, when employed in succouring the benighted
travellers, or in rescuing them from the snows.

“ One night, soon after the arrival of Colonel Hamilton and the
count, a party was sent out to traverse the mountain, in order to
give assistance to any unfortunate wayfarers who might have been
overtaken by the darkness. This monk as usual attended them.

“They visited most of the dangerous parts of the track, and were
returning home when the sagacity of one of their dogs, discovered a
person overwhelmed by the snow. Life in him was not yet quite ex-
tinct ; he was quickly conveyed to the monastery and placed in the
saloon where the strangers were partaking of the evening refresh-
ment. All gathered around, and proffered their aid. His face, on
being exposed, displayed a fine noble countenance on which the death
agony seemed stamped. At this moment, a wild shriek burst from
Mary, and she fainted in the arms of her father. At the same time,
the countess uttered a fearful cry, and rushed from the apartment.
All was now confusion ; and, for a time, the dying man was for-
gotten.

“Mary soon revived ; and, never shall I forget her look of concen-
trated anguish, the sad piercing accents in which she exclaimed,
‘Oh! my God! he is dead.’ The cause of this extraordinary con-
duct was shortly explained. The being who now lay apparently life-
less before her, was Arthur de Rosenberg. She knelt by his side.
Her hands clasped in agony—her eyes raised imploringly to heaven
—her beautiful countenance exhibiting the strongest emotion—and
her lips moving with fervent prayer—she seemed as an angel of life
sent to arrest the departing spirit, to rekindle the fast expiring spark
of vitality. She parted the dark hair upon his marble forehead—she
held her lips over his, but no warm breath returned her sigh—she
placed her hand upon his heart, but no responsive throb vibrated to
her touch. She again sank insensible by his side. For a short time,
all were silent. Her father covered his face with his hands, and
wept in uncontrollable anguish. Oh! it is a fearful thing to see an
old man’s tears. In youth, the springs of sensibility lie near the sur-

THE MONK. : 99

face, and may be called forth by the first stroke of sorrow, or even
by the tale of suffering and distress ; but in age, when the more acute
feelings have been blunted, and the genuine impulses of our nature
have been checked, when the heart has been chilled by a contact with
a cold world, and the softer passions have been subdued, severe indeed
must be that blow, which can cause those fountains, so long dried up,
to again flow with the bitter waters of affliction.

«¢ The unconscious youth was now removed to another apartment,
and the customary restoratives applied. By degrees, animation be-
gan to return, and great hopes were entertained of his recovery. In
the mean time, Colonel Hamilton had regained his composure, and
proceeded to give the monk before spoken of, a short history of Ar-
thur, and of the circumstances that had obliged him to become an ex-
ile from his native land. The holy man heard him with increasing
attention, and during the narrative asked many questions as to the ex-
act time and place, when the supposed murder of the priest occurred.
‘ Mysterious providence’ at length he exclaimed, ‘ how inscrutable
are thy ways! How infinitely beyond the scope of human intellect to
- fathom! How far beyond the reach of human knowledge to define !
The darkness and the storm may do thy bidding, and display thy
mercy equally with the bright sunbeam, or the gentle zephyr; the
cup of death and misery may contain the elixir of life and the Lethé
of sorrow ; the very instruments of woe and destruction, may be con-
verted into the means of happiness and salvation.’

«“ As he spoke, all gazed upon him with astonishment, and waited
anxiously for some exposition of his*strange words. He continued,
addressing himself to Colonel Hamilton, ‘ at the time this unfortunate
affair occurred to your young friend, I was travelling in the neigh-
bourhood of , collecting contributions for our order. One day,
on passing a small chalet situated near an unfrequented path of the
mountain, my attention was called by a cry of distress. I immediately
turned to the hut; and on entering it, discovered stretched, upon the
floor, a man evidently in a dying state, with the blood flowing from a
recent wound in his side. I gave him some wine, which in some
measure revived him. He had on the habiliments of a friar ; but,
under his dress, was a belt containing a pistol, and several stilettos.
When he was able to speak, he asked if I were a priest, and would
shrive him. On being required to confess a shudder passed over
him ; he turned his face from me, but I entreated him, by every ar-
gument, not to plunge his soul into eternity with all its load of sin
unrepented. He heard me with strong emotion, and, after some he-

100 THE MONK.

sitation, he replied ‘I will, I will! but mine is a: horrible story,
He then gave me a short sketch of his life; and from this it appear-
ed, that he had been for some years carrying on a system of plunder
and violence, sometimes leading a band of brigands and at others,
under various disguises, luring unwary travellers with false appear-
ances and watching an opportunity to rifle and destroy his victims.
But he had not always been abandoned ; and the memory of his early
days, passed in peace and happiness, came across him in his last
hour. I then asked how he came to be wounded, he replied; ‘I will
tell you, but first take this,’ placing a ring in my hand, ‘ and promise
me’—Before he could proceed, nature was subdued—he sank back—
his eyes closed—his upraised hand fell passive—his lips parted; and,
with a few confused words of prayer, his spirit fled. On my arrival
at the next town, which was in an opposite direction to » I gave
information of these circumstances, and proceeded on my journey.’

“‘ Mary, who had recovered from her fainting, and who had listened
in breathless anxiety to every word that had passed, now started up; _
and, laying her hand upon the monk’s arm, exclaimed with wild e-
nergy—‘ but the ring! where is it! where is it!’ . ‘ Here, lady,’ he
replied, and placed it in her hand. She cast one look at it——‘ it is !’
she exclaimed, ‘it is my own gift to him! his innocence will now be
proved. During the recital of the foregoing particulars, the object
most materially interested in them had so far recovered as to be able
to speak, and to take some refreshment; but it was not yet thought
desirable to tell him of the joy that was in store for him. In the
mean time, the countess had sent an urgent request to speak with
one of the fathers. They were all occupied in devotion save the
monk so often mentioned, and he repaired instantly to her apartment.

When he entered the chamber her face was averted, and her hands
clasped over her brow. He closed the door; and, gently approach-
ing, asked how hecould serve her. She slowly turned her head and
fixed upon him her full dark eyes, with a look so wild, so fraught
with agony, that he started back and stood transfixed in amazement.
His countenance assumed an ashy paleness. His limbs trembled.
He felt that sickness of soul which no language can describe. His
gaze was rivetted intently on the object before him; and, for some
moments he remained incapable of speech or motion. At length,
with a strong effort, the countess broke silence, and exclaimed, ‘It
is, then, a reality. It is he himself! Merciful Heaven! support me.
Rudolf, she continued, ‘ they told me you were dead, and I thought
myself your murderer. I wept in bitterness of spirit, but my tears

THE MONK. 10]

were unavailing. I was doomed to expiate my fault. You now be-
hold a miserable heart-broken creature, subdued by misfortune, op-
pressed by anguish and remorse, borne down by wretchedness and
despair, but it has been of my own seeking. My own pride and
folly have embittered every drop in the cup of life Yet pity me.
But how can I ask you to pity me—you whom I have so much in-
jured—you whom I have so deeply loved? Oh! I know not what
I say, yet I must speak. Yes, Rudolf, I deeply loved you! You
alone had my first, my only affection ; but I thought to humble you.
I wished to gratify my vanity by seeing you at my feet, pleading a
cause already sufficiently advocated. To show my own power, I
trifled with a heart I would have died for; but I was justly punished
for my duplicity. Since that day Ihave not known peace, and the hor-
- rorof my present fate is aggravated by the remembrance that I might
haye been blessed and happy. And now, can you forgive, can you
pity me? Speak, Limplore you! Iam now sinking fast into the
grave, where alone I can find rest; and were I but assured of your
forgiveness, I could then calmly, nay gladly, meet death.’

“ Rudolf had hitherto been silent. The mingled feelings of joy,
surprise, grief, admiration, and regret, had alternately agitated his
mind, and he was bewildered with conflicting sensations. Every
word of Paulina had reached to the inmost recesses of his soul.
Every syllable had awakened the dormant, but not extinct, energies
of his nature. He-was in a mingled delirium of bliss and torture.
But the last appeal roused him to the terrible reality. He took her
hand. The touch ran through his veins. His brain burned. No
longer master of himself, he caught Paulina in his arms. He clasped
her to his breast, and poured forth his long-suppressed feelings in a
torrent of wild and impassioned language. He recalled the time
when he had first seen her in his native valley. He remembered the
hours of exquisite happiness he had there spent. He forgot his pre-
sent sacred office. He forgot that she was the wife of another. He
forgot everything, but that his beloved lay upon his bosom, that his
arms encircled her, that her warm tears fell upon his cheek, that her
heart throbbed responsive to his own ; and, as he strained her again
and again to that heart, and impressed a fervent kiss upon her lips,
there was no external world for him. He thought not of time or
eternity. Heaven could not long permit such a profanation to con-
tinue unpunished. A faint shriek from Paulina recalled him from
his madness. He turned and beheld the Count de Vegnet, who had
entered unobserved, and thus witnessed his wife in the monk’s em-

“

é

OR THE MONK.

brace. At first the Italian’s saturnine visage exhibited a malicious
smile of triumph, which quickly changed to a demoniac scowl of ha-
tred. With one hand he seized the unfortunate countess; with the

other, he plunged a dagger in the breast of Rudolf.

“ Before any alarm could be given, the count fled and escaped to
France, where he was soon after assassinated in a street brawl. The
countess had a long and dangerous illness, from which she ultimately
recovered. Shortly afterwards she entered the sanctuary of a con-
vent, where the comforts and consolations of religion soothed her
bruised spirit, and opened to her view that bright heaven where there
shall be no more death or sorrow.

“ Colonel Hamilton recognised, amongst the servants of the count,
the person who had appeared at as the principal witness at the
fatal trial ; and, from the confessions of this wretch, information was
obtained which, when combined with the previous testimony of the
monk regarding the ring, afforded complete evidence of Arthur’s in-
nocence. His friends were, in consequence, enabled to procure a
reversal of the decree of his banishment, and he was speedily restored
to his father, his native land, and his beloved Mary.

“In this dreary solitude, separated as it is from the rest of the
worlds and divided from intercourse with men and manners, the most
trivial instances become subjects of interest.. No wonder, then, that
these strange incidents should be long remembered in the Hospice ;
but now they are almost forgotten ; and more recent occurrences oc-
cupy the thoughts of my brother inmates. Yet on my mind the im-
pression of these circumstances is as vivid as the scenes of yesterday.
No time or change can obliterate them. I can now see the graceful
form of Mary bending in silent anguish over the breathless body of
her lover. I can now hear the expressions of rapturous joy that
burst from her lips when she found that he lived and was innocent.
I can now behold the pale melancholy and touchingly beautiful coun-
tenance of Paulina as she told her tale of woe. I now have before
me the devilish malignity spread over the features of De Vegnet, as
he plunged his dagger in my breast—yes! you may be surprised ;
but Iam Rudolf! It was my heart’s blood that he sought. The
wound was not fatal—would it had been! I should then have es-
caped misery such as no words can tell. But, no! I should then have
died with a curse upon my soul. Heaven is all-wise, the ome
disposer of life and death is all-merciful.”

M.

103

AN ESSAY ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF
ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDU-
CATOR IN THE ESTIMATION OF THE PUBLIC.

“Wie kommts? Ist etwa der Bildung der Menschennatur an sich selbst
eine geringere Kunst, als die Tanz—die Schauspiel—die Gesang—die Reit-
kunst, und die Kenntniss der Modenartikel ? Ist etwa wirklich die Fertig-
keit des Tanzers, die Bildung des Schauspielers, die Kunst eines Singers, die
Sattelfestigkeit des Reuters, und das Wissen eines Modehindlers mehr
werth, als der Umfang der Erfordernisse der Menschenbildung im Ganzen ?

** So viel ist gewiss: der Mensch, das Meisterstiick der Schipfung, sollte
auch das Meisterstiick seiner selbst, das Meisterstiick seiner kunst seyn.

“ Aber ist er’s, nachdem er Jahrtausende gelebt hat, ist er’s. Kann er
jeztauf seinen Lorbeeren ruhen, und es aussprechen: ich bin was ich seyn
soll ?”—.Wocechenschript fiir Menschenbildung.*

PART I—“ THE EXPEDIENCY.”

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

INTELLIGENCE is the sublimest characteristic of God, for it is that
which actuates all'the divine attributes, pervades the universe, and
reflects through creation the visible similitude of the divine wisdom.

Intelligence is the high prerogative of man, created first with all
his appetences eager for a pleasurable existence, his nature had yet
to receive a nobler distinction in the approachable likeness to God,
who shed over him the lustrous beatitude of his own image, and
man became the reflective intelligence of his maker.

Intelligence therefore is the connective affinity between God and
man, and though the original excellence of the soul be lost, and her
brightness obscured, into the spiritual Eden kept and cultivated to

* How! Is, then, the education of human nature in itself less important
than the knowledge of dancing, of the drama, of singing, of horsemanship,
and the fashionable accomplishment of the day—is then, indeed, the expert-
ness of the dancer, the science of the actor, the art of the singer, the skill of
the horseman, or the wisdom of the fashionist, of more worth than the com-
pass of the necessary education of human nature in the whole ?

So much is certain: man, the masterpiece of creation, should also be the
masterpiece of himself, and the masterpiece of his art.

But is it so? After the experience of a thousand years, is he perfected ?
Can he now repose upon his laurels and exclaim, ‘I am what I should be ”

'

.}

104 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

the highest possible perfection, the Deity may still descend and hold
converse with his creature, and lead him through the observation and
understanding of Nature, to the contemplation and worship of the di-
vine holiness.* But this intelligence has another and nearer applica-
tion, and herein, too, the similitude between the creature and the cre-
ator is obvious that as the attributes of the Deity are subject to
intelligence, so the human virtues, which are the infinitely remote
shadows of the divine, should be submissive to that “wisdom which
cometh from above,” that virtue should not arise from a brief and
precarious impulse, but from an actuative principle in the soul—“ a
new command give I unto you, that ye love one another.” But how
shall this law be fulfilled, when the image of God languishes fainter
and fainter in the soul? for comparatively with his ignorance man
degenerates, and in his debasement secedes farther and farther from
the divine similitude. The translation of exalted intelligences into the
“ sanctities of heaven” is the declared object of mortal probation.
Created with an inquisitive faculty, man begins in infancy the process
of adaptation, taught by the Great Teacher himself through the in-
stinctive and educative faculty of his being, ascending from the unerr-
able acquirements of first truths, to the comprehension of truths
natural and revealed ; until, refining more and more from the gross-
ness of earth in his approachable resemblance to God, exhibiting in
the two extremes of child-like simplicity and exalted intelligence, the
perfection of humanity. ‘For the end of learning is to repair the
ruin of our first parents, by regaining to know God aright, and out
of that knowledge to love Him, to imitate Him, to be like Him, as
we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which,
being united to the heavenly grace of faith, makes up the highest
perfection.” +

Scarcely subsidiary to this divine purpose, but indeed correlative
with it, is the relation and duty of man to man, how and in what
manner he shall advance the well-being and happiness of all man-
kind, recognizing in each individual the fullest extension of the di-

* Menschenbildung in ihrer Vollendung ist das Ideal wornach wir stre-
ben, von dem wir aber mit Paulus sagen: nicht dass ichs schon ergriffen
habe und vollkommen sey; ich jage ihm aber nach, auf dass ergreifen
méichte.— Wocchenschrift fiir Menschenbildung.—Education in its perfection
is the ideal after which we strive, of which we might say, with Paul, ‘Not
as though I had already attained, either were ee perfect, but I follow
after, if that I might apprehend.”

+ Milton.

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 105

vine law of “ doing unto others that which he would they should do
unto him.” The application is hidden in the mystery of knowledge,
not the mere knowledge of utilities, but that higher wisdom which
associates mankind in one fellowship of love. Inclusive, therefore,
~ intelligence involves all temporal good, which reconciles contraries,
quickens every enjoyment, and multiplies the means.

That “knowledge is power” is familiarized as an axiom; and,
however incomprehensive the capacity of that power, its efficacy is no
longer problematical, for, by a principle essential to its existence,
nations gain an ascendancy proportionate to their knowledge, which,
further carried out, is also predicable of societies, of families, and of
individuals. Every thing surrounding and influencing man witnesseth
the beneficence of knowledge, as much so from the argument of his
wants, as from the pleasures of fruition. But, notwithstanding the
dignity and usefulness of knowledge, and though man by his nature
is adapted to possess it, he exhibits a repugnance, for which igno-
rance is no plea, and in his insane opposition to its progress presents
an inexplicable contrarysin his self-love. He beholds the elements
changed in their relations, ponderous bodies transformed into aerial,
or condensed again into fluids, intractible metals fashioned into the
thousand utilities of civilized life, “ the great globe itself and all which
it inhabits,” touched by the Ithuriel spear of intelligence, submissive
to his will and applicable to his wants. Yet must he be driven as a
bondsman in the pursuit and acquisition of this (to him) creative
_ power ; at best to be draggled in the mire of a money-making sensu-
ality, disfiguring the original image of God into the likeness of mam-
mon, and turning the temple of the soul into a “house of mer-
chandise.” | | ;

But, reflecting upon the virtue of knowledge, both as it concerns
the temporal and spiritual interest of man, what is the cause of the
unnatural and parasitic evil attached to it, or whence comes so strange
an anomaly in his conduct? Of evils, the most prominent are the
tyranny of prejudice and the tyranny of teaching; the former ty-
ranny will remedy itself if the latter and greater evil be removed,
inasmuch as the tyranny of teaching not only seals up the innate in-
quisitiveness of the soul, but, by a mistake of the cause, knowledge is
abhorred as the tyrant itself. By this tyranny over the tender spirits
of children, good and evil are substituted for each other by an irre-
sponsible choice, and which years of experience can hardly correct in
the thinking and conduct of man.

But it is not the severity of coercion which is merely included in

VOL. X., NO, XXVIII, 14

106 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

the word tyranny, but the whole imperfect system of education pur-
sued in too many schools in Great Britain. Can there be a harsher
tyranny than the ill-directed teaching of an unskilful master ?* for |
whether learning be obnoxious from the tediousness of the process,
or from the stripes of the rod, is of little consequence in the result.
Without ascending to the heights of prophecy, but by an historical
comparison of the social and intellectual character of all nations in
all ages, it is neither a superstitious nor a sceptical opinion that, as
long as the school discipline is characterized by its present empiricism
and dull formality—as long as schoolmasters are the despised and
needy huxters of a teaching trade—as long as the office is prostrated
with all that is abject in circumstances and debased in opinion—so
long will the nation present a godless, soulless, degraded character,
in continuous retrogression from the presence and communion and
image of God, into a lost and irrecoverable heathenism.

*¢ Amidst all the shocks and revolutions of empires, a good system
of public instruction would serve as a common insurance of this
realm. And if it occupied the attention of governments as much as
the incitements to avarice and the ambition of false glory, we might,
to use a metaphor, admire the future prospect of Astrea descending
from heaven, and reviving the reign of innocence and concord among
men. Hitherto the earth can only be examined as a vast theatre of
depopulation and waste; it is surely time to contemplate the dawn-
ings of reason, happiness, and humanity, rising from among the ruins of
a world which still reeks with the blood of its people, civilized as well
as savage.”+ But, however badly constituted the education system
be, what is further to be deplored is, that even its slender benefits
are partial and exclusive; as if difference of circumstances dispos-
sessed man of his reason, expunged the divine image, and retroverted
him into his irrational and animal being. The only knowledge the
poor man is permitted to imbibe is to be sucked in through “the pipe

* The writer of this essay does not impugn the intellectual and moral cha-
racter of schoolmasters indiscriminately, but rather questions their possess-
ing what to him appears of much higher importance, inasmuch as it precedes
knowledge itself—the temperament or genius of teaching, and the philoso-
phic understanding of the compound nature of man. The qualifications, in-
deed, ofa teacher of youth, are so multiform and rare, as it were, the fruition
of all knowledge and excellence, that, as Milton expresses, “I believe that
this is not a bow for every man to shoot in that counts himself a teacher, but
will require sinews almost equal to those which Homer gave Ulysses.”

+ York.

ELEVATING THE”PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 107

of a sectary,” which, partly from the early drenching process of its
administration, and partly from its sameness and insipidity, leaves in
maturer age scarcely any remembrance beyond the shadow of a creed.

On the other side, the maximum of education is seldom enough to
exalt the soul above the mere doings of the day. Trained in what is
aptly called a “commercial school,” the pupils leave it scarcely more
intelligent, and far more impure; or those who hang their satchels
against the walls of a “classical academy,” do they derive more use-
ful knowledge or Jess moral defilement ? or the inmates of the col-
leges and universities, do they learn to seek for wisdom as for hidden
treasure? The same bad system of education prevails (more or less)
from the universities to the village school, every day augmenting the
overwhelming evil of a national, moral, and intellectual depravity.

Let it be remembered that it is knowledge which has raised man
above the barbaric character of the savage, which has supplied him
with every novelty and administered to every want. If, then, even so
far as temporal good is concerned, the education of the few has done
so much, what might not be looked for, with no vain prophetic eye,
were all men educated !

Education is the interest of individuals, of societies, and of the
world. Education is the strongest security of law, that moderates
innovation, and by an universal self-respect establishes a. voluntary
submission to authority.

To redeem mankind from the superstitions and grossness of error
Education must be elevated into a science, presiding over every other
species of knowledge, thereby raising the first formative principle of
the soul into an inclination for truth, man may regain to know God
aright, and represent in his intelligence and goodness the image of
his Maker. But the science of education, to be perfect as a whole,
must be perfect in its parts, otherwise it will soon decline to its old
corrupt and distempered state. The elevation of the duties must,
therefore, involve the elevation of the office ; and there can be no
greater argument for “the expediency of elevating the profession of
the educator” than the expediency of proving it.*

* Das Bediirfniss eines solchen Blattes spricht sich durch nichts so be-
stimmt aus als dadurch, dass diese Frage geschieht. * * ™ Wenn ein
Tanzmeister, ein Schauspieler, ein Sanger, ein Bereuter, ein Dilettant der
Mode und des Luxus der in seiner Kunst einigen Ruf hiitte, ein Blatt fiir
die Bildung in derselben ankundigte, kéin gebildeter Mensch unserer Zeit
wirde fragen: wozu das? Aber bei der Ankiindigung eines Blattes fur
Menschenbildung schwebt. diese Frage auf den Lippen von so vielen. -

108 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

CHAPTER IL.
THE PRESENT DEGRADED STATE OF THE OFFICE.

TuHE dignity of an office is the authority of its law; whether the
productions of science and the arts, or the constitution and fabric of
a government, which necessarily precedes the authority or office of ei-
ther, the office ascends above the works by which it was created, and
becomes their law ; and it is the just and only security of knowledge,
that as the faculties of the soul are subordinate to the office of the
soul, so the offices of learning are pre-eminent over learning itself, as
the model and representative of their utmost reach. Nor can the
dignity of an office be subordinate but by the destruction of its duties.
Neither the indiscretions nor crimes of the servants of the church,
the senate, nor the bar, could deject the dignity of either offices,
whereas each office would appropriate to itself the virtues and cele-
brity of its officer. These professions have a fixed elevation in soci-
ety, that not even the loosest conduct of their professors could sub-
_ due ; in the comparison they alone would be vitiated in public es-
teem; in all such instances the men sink and not the office, which
must be co-existent and co-extensive with the utility and excellence
of its duties. There is one violent exception to this rule. The office
of teaching derives neither interest nor importance from the charac-
ter of the teacher, or the reputation of the taught. Even that first
and most vital of offices, which gives to the soul of childhood its first
impulses, illumines it with the first rays of intelligence, and quickens
the new-born affections and tender sympathies of a pure and undefiled
spirit, is prostrated among all that is abject in circumstances and con-
temptible in opinion. The office contrary to a general law is subor-
dinate to the duties of the office, so that no fixed characteris attached
to it, but it is higher or lower relative to the station and success of
the educator. Familiarized as we are with the degraded state of the
educative office, and regarding schools as a mere trading occupation,

Wocchenschrift fiir Menschenbildung.—The want of such records is proved by.
nothing so much as that this question occurs. Ifa dancing master, an actor,
a singer, a modist, or a dilletante of fashion and luxury, celebrated: in his art,
should announce a work for instruction in either art, would it be asked,
wherefore? But with the announcement of a record for education, this
question rises upon the lips of so many.

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 109

we can hardly comprehend the nature of the evil or see any degene-
racy in the office. The early arbitration of ignorance cast education
as the ignoble business: of slaves, and through the successive ages
even up to this period, the primary opinion, strenghtened more and
more by error, has thickened into a proverb. Those great and good
men who at all periods have been alone worthy to fill so sacred a °
duty, disgusted and driven away to the more solitary pursuits of lite-
rature left the divine trust of teaching truth and goodness, to the
herd of promiscuous. and ignorant pretenders, who being qualified
neither in the knowledge of God nor man, have turned this spiritual
magistracy into a grovelling and despicable trade, dragging the high-
est moral duty to the lowest bent of human degradation. It is no
marvel therefore the “ profession of the educator” should be so con-
temned nay contrariwise would be a miracle. To depict more firmly
this declension, let the’ profession be compared with itself and with
that of the church. The multitude and varied character of schools,
drawn in this comparison is another and incidental evil, what could
be more curious than to trace the gradual and the long descent, from
the regal professorships of the universities down to the poor half-
starved attenuated village school-master or the two pence a week
dame schools, where a number indefinitely fixed of poor little chil-
dren are huddled together in a dark, cold, damp cellar or kitchen,
and, ere they can lisp, learn the truth (baptized in tears) that “ man
is born to trouble” ; from the observation of these ‘“ seminaries for
the young” is it strange that the office should relapse to the lowest
place in public opinion? or that the mere name of school should
carry with it something abortive and fatal to improvement. But the
evils of these schools, are also the evils of those aspiring to the more
respectable term of “ Academy,” modified they may be, but the same
evils prevail in all; though their hideous complexion be more or less
concealed: it matters little whether it be a two-penny dame school or
a ‘seminary for young gentlemen or ladies,”* poverty, distress, and
ignorance of the high virtues of their calling prevail in the same in-

* Nothing is more at variance with common sense, than the silence of even
the first writers on education, as to the instruction and right bringing up of fe-
males, as if those from whom we derive our first and most lasting impressions,
might be left to the mere chance of circumstances. Let it not be forgotten
therefore that the writer of this essay, though he does not particularize the
name, he associates a/7 mankind without reference to sex in the essential re-
parative process of a better education, and that no general remark can ap-
ply exclusively to either sex.

110 | ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

corporated and indissoluble compact, and conspire one and all to sink ,
the office deeper and deeper in public estimation. But “ up to reas-
cend through utter and through miiddle darkness” to the most elevat-
ed rank of the profession ; the comparison is striking, but so indefinite-
ly remote from the opposite extreme as not to be obvious. The office
now assumes a new existence has metamorphosed its lean and withered
look into the full-blown plethora of excess, framed and gilded with the
extrinsic gewgaws, mystical sessamées, and attalantan wealth, of the col-
leges and universities. But even in these few, far separated instances
of the elevated dignity of the “ profession of teaching” the elevation is
carefully concealed that no identity is felt between the two extremes.
By the jugglery of pride, the teacher is transformed into the “ pro-
fessor” and the office is lost sight of in the “ professorship.” The
benefit of a comparison is therefore dead to the public who can hardly
recognize an alliance where not only the circumstances but even the.
designation is exchanged.* The distinctions so widely drawn between
the qualities of teaching, are not less carefully preserved, that it
would call for a more than ordinary discrimination to trace a connec-
tion ; while a ban excommunicates and vilifies the office of the educa-
tor, the ministerial agency, which however worthy of the highest hon-
our, must be by a natural succession posterior to the first truth of
education, is yet beheld with an exclusive and therefore tyrannous re-
verance, as though the efficacy of prevention was subordinate to that
of cure, or the building up of the tender and obedient spirit of youth, —
to a more willing disposition to receive the truth with meekness, were
an object less valuable to the world or less acceptable to God than
the tardy conversion of men grown old in sin.t

*‘ Lycurgus{. also in the institution of the Lacedemonian common-
wealth took no care about learning, but only the lives and manners
of their children, though I should think that the care of both is best

* Let it be understood that the author does not condemn the elevated po-
sition and name of the professorships of our colleges, he laments rather that
the whole system of education is not equally elevated in importance; the com-
parison is not meant to be invidious but merely to make the evil of such ex-
tremes more obvious.

+ “ Einige sagen, der Unterricht fangt an; die Uebung und das Beispiel.
vollendet. Wir sagen umgekehrt, die Uebung und das Beispiel fangen an, -
und der Unterricht vollendet.”— Wocchenschrift fiir Menschenbildung.—Some
say instruction should begin, practice and example perfect. We say, on the
contrary, that practice and example should begin, and instruction perfect.

+t Tillotson, Concerning the Educating of Children, Sermon 52.

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 111

and that learning would very much help to form the manners of
children, and to make them both wiser and better men, and therefore
with the leave of so great and wise a lawgiver, I cannot but think
that this was a defect in his institution ; because learning if it be un-
der the conduct of true wisdom and goodness, is not only an orna-
ment but a great advantage to the better government of any kingdom
or commonwealth.”

The original dereliction of the office has thrown the whole struc-
ture of teaching into confusion and what by its nature, should be con-
sistent with its object (that is the understanding) is distorted into the
uncouth and useless finery of fashionable accomplishments. ‘To an-
nihilate the honour of a profession is to abolish its importance and to
strip it of the only legitimate inducement which can excite its mem-
bers. Were the office of a General no more honourable than that of
his soldiers, it would instantly subside to the same level and degra-
dation. It is the conventional authority of a law, recognized by a
common consent, which constitutes rank; but the value of the edu-
cative office should not be merely an arbitrary assignment, else would
it soon decline from its sublime attitude to the plane of those nume-
rous and lower vocations of the arts and sciences.

To compare great things with small “the profession of the educa-
tor” should resemble the dignity of Art, on which its professors look
with a proud veneration always aspiring to attain a name co-existent
with its greatness, working up through all its duties to a mutual and
reflex participation of its glory.

* CHAPTER IIL.

THE DEGRADATION OF THE EDUCATOR.*

Tue degradation of the educative profession must involve the de-
gradation of the educator. Between the dejection of this office and

* Und nun Erzieher, welchen Namen du auch habest, und aus welcher
Gewalt und mit welchem Recht du den Dienst des Heiligthums unserer Na-
tur, die Sorge fiir die Unschuld, die Bildung der Jugend, die Erziehung der
Kinder, als dein Amt, als deinen Beruf ansprechen magst, —darfst du es den-
ken, darfst du es ausprechen: die Art und Weise wie du dein Werk treibst,
deine Methode, gehe aus der innern Wiirde der Menschennatur hervor, sie
nehme dieselbe ganz und rein in Anspruch, und erhebe die Kinder zur

bs

112 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

that of the officer there exists this essential variance, that the former
implicates the latter, but not conversely. The debasement of the one
is general, of the other, individual ; were it otherwise, the instability
of the laws would abolish the authority of the office. That universal
admission makes this rule absolute, is an experimental truth. What-
ever might be the character and genius of a teacher, though he should
possess the highest faculties of teaching, though society should aid
his plans by all possible means, and though his scholars should pre-
sent in their conduct and understanding the most unlooked-for good-
ness and intelligence, yet would not the office itself sustain any eleva-
tion; his efforts would be regarded as a sacrifice to his philanthropy,
genius, with an unexampled humility, bowed down to the laborious
and disgusting duties of a despised profession. The office would
neither receive nor reflect any portion of the honour of its agent.

Seeing, therefore, the utter prostration of the profession of educat-
ing, and that the importance of the teacher is personal and extrinsic,
the whole multitude of schoolmasters, who get a precarious subsis-
tence by teaching, participate alike in the debasement of their office ;
and, inasmuch as it throws them upon other and illegitimate resources
to rise into notoriety, plunges this most sacred calling into all. the
dirt and defilements of an unprincipled commerce.

The educator, depressed beneath the dead weight of its opprobri-
um, so baneful both to the virtues and faculties of the mind and to
worldly advantage, that hardly any persons but those who had been
already schooled by penury and despair (thus trained to degradation)

Kraft und zum Bewusstseyn derselben als ihre nothwendige Folge? Darfst
du das nicht ausprechen, aus welcher Gewalt sprichst du denn den héchsten
Dienst des Heiligthums unserer Natur, die Sorge fiir die Unschuld und die
Bildung der Jugend als dein Amt an? Mit welchem Recht treibst du ein
Geschiift, das beim Mangel an innerer Weihe, ewig nicht dein Amt, ewig
nicht dein Berufseyn kann ?— Wocchenschrift fiir Menschenbildung.—And now,
educator, which name thou also hast, thou whose office is the service of the
sanctuary of our nature, the guardianship of innocence, the education of
children, the cultivation of youth, by what authority, by what right, canst
thou claim thy vocation ? darest thou think of it, darest thou declare it? the
way and manner in which thou carriest on thy work—thy system, does it
arise from the internal dignity of human nature, takes it that pure and per-
fect claim, and does it, as a necessary consequence, elevate children to the
power and to the consciousness of the same. Darest thou not acknowledge
by what power thou claimest the highest service of the sanctuary of our na-
ture—the care of innocence and the cultivation of youth—as thy office? By
what right dost thou carry on thy vocation, that, with the want of that inter-
nal consecration, can never be thy office, can never be thy calling ?

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 113

would adopt the office of teaching. Among the host of the craft, how
few of the lower order of schoolmasters have received any other
warranty for the business of a teacher than their. own compulsive
wants! Failing in every other pursuit, either from a deficiency of
integrity or of common sense, they can most easily adopt a business
that requires no other patent than a sign board, and no capital but
their scholars. Frequently is this adoption the last expiring grasp of
beggary, which, though a little protracted by every invention of
trickery upon the public, is but a step from the workhouse or the
gaol.

But the degradation of the office carries with it other and far-ra-
mifying evils. The sub-teachers, ushers, assistants, dancing masters,
French masters, drawing masters, and all those numerous addenda of
the “ classical and commercial academies,” they all participate in the
pauperising depression of the trade. The fact is well attested that
more than a moiety of the charges paid to them by their pupils,
through the hands of the master of the school, is not unfrequently
substracted for his (the master’s) own purse: and even a heavy dis-
count is further deducted from the already reduced pittance. Slaves
to poverty and craving competition, they are forced unshrinkingly and
silently to submit to this skinning process ; continually exposed to
the tyrannous cruelty of an avaricious and indigent employer, yet too
abject to resist. But to examine closer into the interior of the sys-
tem : still more pitiable are those wretched and isolated beings termed
Ushers. It would not be supposed that any rational man who re-
tained one vibration of sensibility could submit to be the meanest
slave in an office, bowed down to its lowest prostration, subject un-
ceasingly to the stinging virulence of a superior in beggary; yet
lamentable is the fact that hundreds of tender and delicate minds, are
rudely crushed into a service thus abhorrent from every relation.
But it is a necessity of the persecuted Usher that he must be either
the enemy of the master or of the scholars. The consequence of the
former would be an insupportable suffering ; he has no alternative but
to become the enemy of the school. The hated spy of the master,
every species of deception and boyish fraud is quickly acquired and
practised to elude his watchful suspicion. He becomes the creeping
reptile of the school-room.and the play-ground—a scorned and hated
thing, whose very presence brings penalty, a stranger to every
grateful emotion, excised from the pleasures and confidence of the

VOL, X., NO. XXVIII. 15

114 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

community, a branded solitary in the circle of life.* And this ab-
horred inquisitor is the teacher and companion of inexperienced and .
ingenuous youth. But the condition of the educator is in no instance
so baneful as to those good and upright men who strive vainly to ele-
vate, by their industry and talents, the dignity and utility of their
office.

In vain they direct the full tide of their energies to advance the
well-being and improvement of their pupils ; with all their knowledge
and humanity, yet uneducated by early and long discipline to the mys-
tery of the office, and perhaps with the fullest benevolence, yet void
of that necessary and complex wisdom of the physiology of man, they
realize with the labours, the repeated disappointments of Sisyphus.
The oppression of domestic cares and professional anxieties soon
wears through their first integrity of purpose, like the fabled dragon’s
teeth that, being sown, came up armed men, their vexations multiply
upon themselves, until at last, overwhelmed by the meanness of their
office, and the incidental miseries of their circumstances, they slide into
a state of irrecoverable moral and intellectual apathy. ‘Those who
aimed to be illustrious for their excellence and usefulness, failing of
that, turn their deadened minds to their mere worldly success. A
contradiction to a general law in the low subaction of the office has
created a solecism in truth, and “ honesty is found not to be the best
policy.” The moral virtues must descend to.a standard of expedien-
ey, and new theories, new plans, new vagaries, eject truth and honesty
from the scheme of a degenerate and unprofitable profession. The

* The manner in which private schools are mostly supplied with assist-
ants, by means of school agents, is productive of great abuses; the teacher
and master, who correspond through the agent, are completely at his mercy
and discretion. If the assistant advance a sufficient fee, it matters little as
to his qualifications, or the injury the school will sustain by his admission.
“It is an unfortunate coincidence that, while it is the interest of the master
to retain a good teacher as long as he can, it is the interest of the agent to
keep up a constant fluctuation and removal of assistants. This end is gained
in several ways, whether intentionally or not. Ist. By putting a good man
into a bad situation. In this instance the assistant will not stop longer than
he can avoid, 2nd, By putting a bad man into a good situation. Here the
master will not keep him, if he wishes to stop. 3rd. By offering a better si-
tuation, as an inducement for change, to a man who is going to college in six
months. The assistants are, of course, always on the look out to better them-
selves; and the agents are, of course, ready to help them if they can.”—-See
page 201 of the second publication of the Central Society of Education.

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 115

startling “prospectus” atid “advertisement” impart to the world the
merits of the “ establishment ;” the advantages of the “ system” are
set forth as nicely and as numerously as the “bill of fare of a Pari-
sian restaurateur ; and the holy and dignified offices of education are
blazoned about the kingdom like the preposterous tirado of an “ uni-
versal specific.” To examine not too critically these “systems,” so
loudly vaunted of in these “establishments,” and to compare their
fixed and inflexible “ process of education” with a rational and wisely-
yielding plan, necessary to accommodate the instruction to the many
and differently constituted minds of a school, the fallacy of such em-
piricism is palpable. Nothing can betray a more utter ignorance of
the requirements in the profession of teaching than to erect a stern
and invariable theory, as if it were an easier task to wrest the heredi-
tary and already biased minds of a number of children to one unde-
viating course of learning, than so to modify that instruction as best
may suit the idiosyncrasy and development of their particular mental
endowments.* But such preposterous fashions need no exposure ;
arising from the ingenuity, not the integrity of masters, who, judging
rightly of the ignorance and credulity of the public on matters of
education, fail not to reap the reward of their novelties. Justifiable
frauds end often in severe retaliations ; thus, the sinful apathy of a
people towards the debasement of this inestimable office rebounds
upon them in the curse of a foolish and vicious generation. The
trade looks out through the whole system of education, either in the
profitless routine of the day, the specious method of its periodical du-
ties, the senseless loss of time wasted in frivolities, or the criminal
abduction of one-third of the pupilage to the advertising ceremony of
“half-yearly rehearsals” and “ public exhibitions.” Their pleasures,
which, in a wisely-governed school, would be a mere change of pur-
suit, not a premium for pain, are, like their studies, set off with an
advertisng novelty. The restless spirit of youth, which asks a wider
range than earth itself to satiate its curious hopes, is caged within the
limits of fifty or a hundred square yards, divided into the duodecimal
locations of a gymnasium, “ palestra,” and “curiculum,” where the
cives Romani of the “classical academy” are recreated; the silent
with the boisterous, the sober with the gay, the tender with the cruel,

* First endeavour, as well as you can, to discover the particular temper
and disposition of children, that you suit and apply yourselves to it, and, by
striking in with nature, may steer and govern them in the sweetest and easi-
est way.-—Tillotson, Sermon 52nd, p. 483.

116 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

the pious with the profane, all crowded togéther in one odious com-
pact. But the iniquity of these systems stretches to the terminus of
the plan, and is not less embodied in the religion and worship of the
school ; trailed in pairs through the streets to the sanctuary, the pu-
pils are there spread over the seats most elevated; the assembled
congregation count their numbers and admire their discipline, little
heeding the effect of these hebdomidal constraints upon mindsthat
retain little but their aversion. ‘The sectarism of teachers is not an
unprolific advertisement ; professing to give a liberal education, “they
convert into a law of hate what Heaven gave us as a law of love, and
degrade seminaries for the universal mind of the country into rival
garrisons for faction.”* Happily nature is stronger than even cus-
tom, and thus the officiousness of sectarism, coerced upon the minds
of the young, is rendered vain by the tyranny of its coercion.

Another of the evils springing up into the monstrous structure of
education, and one of the pitiful substitutes for a nobler plan, is the
value set on the titles of professors; such an error is altogether En-
glish, the tatters of the old tinsel of feudal times. ‘This admira-
tion of a college patent stands in the way of a fair enquiry. Pre-
supposing that title were an accurate certificate of high attainment
and moral excellence, there is still a higher and primary wisdom to be
required, which is the emendation and fruit of genius disciplined for
the office. Knowledge is merely the material, the form and fabric is
the fashioning of love.+

Such is a lenient sketch of some of the evils arising from the de-
gradation of the office through the agent. These evils of schools are
wrongly referred to mere pecuniary causes, and undoubtedly mone-
tary embarrassment must always be an obstacle in the quiet progres-
sion of any profession or duty ; but the first and real cause, not only
of one, but of every other evil, is the degradation of the office. To
elevate the circumstances of the educator by a pecuniary disburse-
ment, without first elevating the profession, would but have the effect
of raising the officer above the office into a dosing state of apathy
and slothful indifference. Under such a change the present evils
would be enlarged and multiplied ; for the only remaining active sti-

* Wyse on Education Reform, a book that should be the companion of every
parent and every person.

+ “Was keine Gewalt des michtigsten Herrschers erschafft, das schafft
und bildet in Demuth die liebende Kraft.”— Wocchenschrift jiir Menschenbil-
dun.—What no power of the mightiest ruler can create, that love, in the
power of humility, creates and fashions.

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 117

mulus would be removed, and the whole soul of the school would be
laid fallow. under the dull monotony of a senseless routine.

CHAPTER IV.

THE RESULT OF THE DEGRADATION OF THE OFFICE UPON THE
SCHOLAR.

Tue natural law that “every thing is produced after its kind,” ‘is
equally true as a moral law; for the character and conduct of man
are but the life and practice of those first and generative impressions
of education, and which are divinely and naturally prophetical of the
good or evil tendencies of his mind. The divine prediction concurs
with a natural corollary “that the sins of the father should be visited
upon the child ;’ but the law is further extended in its fulfilment, and
the sins of the child are reflective in their consequences upon the
parent. But what is here said of the parent is equally predicable of
the teacher, and the evils of a bad education are retaliated upon the
educator and his office. Were it not that the commercial vigilance of
the nation kept the public mind in so constant a state of restlessness,
the ill success of the present educative system could not fail to claim
their indignation. Can there be a more melancholy picture than a
great and powerful nation, gifted with the highest privileges of man,
religious, moral, intellectual, and worldly, yet degraded in intellect
and vitiated in morals? The spirit of a pure and undefiled religion,
offended by our superstition and sceptical faith, may ere long forsake
our altars for another and more tractable people, who will not, with
a proud and stiff-necked sectarism, disinherit the power of the spirit
from the pre-electing influence of that law of intelligence given ame
man, “that he should train up a child in the way he should go,” en-
graving the image of God upon the infant mind, that it may hereafter
recognise the divine likeness impersonated in the “ Great Exempler”
of truth and holiness. Generation succeeds generation, and ages
wither away ; but the day still dawns upon a world full of the
miseries of error and sin: The creator has formed in man a law of
love, which, by the curse of an evil education, is turned into a law
of hate.

The first instinctive perception of life is love ; the maternal na-
ture is love; from their mutual sense love is born and nurtured ;

118 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

the infant inspires love through all its perceptive being ; from sense
to sense, in the new developing capacities of its nature up to child-
hood, love is the element of life and growth. Intelligence is the
rational image of God ; love is the natural similitude of man. But
another age arrives—the educative age ; the tenderness of home is
exchanged for the harshness of school. Three relations influence
the education—that of the master, the scholars, and the school.
The features of the masters are already depicted,

Not to dwell upon the personal and domestic character of the
master, which, however, necessarily enter into the process of educa-
tion, the teaching system is not only bad, but uncertain. Had a
schoolmaster the vision of Elisha, and could unobserved review the
conduct of every scholar, he could not instruct them all, the number
effectually holds him remote from the individual, and the chances of
his examination are so uncertain as to encourage idleness, from the
chance of escape. ‘“ The vital and essential part of a school is the
master; but at a public school no boy, or at the best only a very
few, can see enough of him to derive any considerable benefit from
his character, manners, and information.”~

Moreover there is this disadvantage without perhaps an excep-
tion, that the acquirements of the master are not general enough,
he may be well adapted for giving instruction in one or two branch.
es of education, and to the study of which his preference has ad-
dicted him, but of that wide and universal knowledge of his voca-
tion, which is rather a supervision of the whole than any exclusive
part of teaching, masters are deplorably ignorant. An educator
should be like a skilful commander over his army governing indivi-
duals through accessories, but all through himself, continuously vigi-
lant over the whole school, sitting in his high watch tower, direct-
ing and aiding the whole monitory process. But with a degraded
office, and a vitiated officer, education deviates into innumerable ec-
centricities to fit the caprice and profit of the educator. The rela-
tion of the scholar to the teacher is, therefore, in every way ill a-
dapted, either for his happiness, goodness, or knowledge. The re-
lation to the scholars—a child is the surest and sweetest teacher of .
a child; for whereas men content themselves with words, a child
can teach only by things, and first impressions are not only the
most lasting, but are the quickest learned and cannot be forgotten,

* Edinburgh Review, yol. xvi. p. 332.

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR., 119

because, unlike words, things cannot be reasoned away. The de-
parture of man from the unerring wisdom of nature is ever marked
by anomalies. With a vain assiduity he pursues a vague and re-
mote enjoyment forgetting that happiness as a state depends upon
present particulars. Parents labour to secure a future and uncer-
tain good, at the certain loss of the present happiness of their chil-
dren, and under the plea of making them wise in age, they sacrifice
the seventh and most pleasurable portion of their lives to the mise-
ries and vices of a school. There is no earthly suffering comparable
with that of a tender and sensitive child in a large school. The
afflictions of man however severe are softened by sympathy or re-
pelled by religion and philosophy, for “ the mind is its own place’
and transcends every trouble: but a child in its innocence, unac-
quainted with grief, inexperienced and helpless, forsaken of all that
makes life joyous, the victim of school restraint and compulsion, har-
rassed by selfish and cruel companions and deafened by the riot
and noise of their contending tyrannies, is a misery that might o-
verwhelm the mind with sorrow and dismay. Human nature is
first abused in childhood to be disabused in manhood, as if the sole
business of education, divine and human was alternately to corrupt
and purify the mind. Were the system of education conformable
to nature, schools would become homes, school-masters fathers, and
children compatriots in universal love. For the love of the young
is of so social a quality, that they attach themselves by a mutual
sympathy to each other ; there would then be no invidious and de-
trimental comparison between home and school, parent and master ;
a child would find encouragement where now it meets repulse, and
the novelty of change would interest the attention, not alarm its
fears. But one hard heart depraves a community, for the tyranny
of sin is obstinate to overcome goodness ; thus the tenderness - of in-
fancy and childhood is effaced by the harshness of a corrupt educa-
tion and an iron fellowship associates mankind. Evil like wealth
is self productive, and the primary sin of schools is generative of al-
most every other sin in the catalogue of the heart. Cruelty pre-
sides over time and place, and the school-room and the play-ground
are by turns the scenes of selfishness, and childish arts.

If it be argued in apology for such schools, that they the better
adapt youth to the world, it cannot be denied, inasmuch as that the
world can hardly discover to them a novelty in vice ; the difference
is only in the object.. What can demonstrate the sinfulness and
foolishness of man so clearly as the sinfulness of the child, who in-

120 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

deed is his type and monogram “ for there is no man alone, because
every man is a microcosm and carries the whole world about him.”*

The relation of the school.—The humiliation of the profession
through the educator, has most effectually abolished that course of
education which would be most suitable, to the universal and indi-
vidual mind. The educator receives no authority but his own will,
nor is answerable, for the efficiency of his plan. Children are sent
to learn, the quality of that learning is generalized under the term
liberal or classical education. This _monitory process includes the
mechanism of writing, spelling, English grammar, arithmetic, ele-
mentary geography, and the church catechism, to which elaborate
course of study may be added the higher claims of instruction in the
classics, the French language, and the use of the globes, a few et ce-
teras fill up the “ prospectus,” crowned with the finishing accom-
plishments of the ‘‘ gentleman and the scholar” as dancing, fencing,
and elocution. There is no speculation more fallacious than what in
the world is called a liberal or a commercial education. <A liberal edu-
cation, however much it may promise in the school prospectus and
school system usually ends in the acquisition of a certain rote know-
ledge of the latin grammar, and a very loose way of translating
some of the school classics, which has been so drummed into the
mind, or rather memory of the scholar, that they ever after look
upon classical books with indifference or disgust.

The useful knowledge of grammar, writing, and cyphering, and
geography which belong alike to the classical and commercial
schools, is so inadequately taught, or at least so indifferently learned,
that knowledge of one or all of these studies is with most persons
obtained in after life, and of which, the greater number of respect-
able persons are after all comparatively ignorant. How few are
there of the liberally instructed, who could analyze a single sen-
tence grammatically, or even apply one rule of all they had formerly
learned ; if it were honestly confessed the greater number of per-
sons are egregiously ignorant of the philosophy of their own lan-
guage, and not until after the experience of many years are the
simplest rules understood, no wonder therefore that the speaking of
most persons is hesitating and their language incorrect and obscure.
Writing which is so plain and easy an art, (after consuming many
years in labouring at it) is generally no further useful than to kill

* Religio Medici, p. 160.

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 12]

time, for of all those who are said to write a good school hand, the
greater part of them leave the faculty behind them and write ever
after a hand most fashionably illegible. Cyphering is made another
of the school nuisances, and has had as many sighs and tears poured
over it as the altar of Nemesis herself. The knowledge of figures
is but ill acquired for so much pain and labour, and usually ends in
a sort of running knowledge of the multiplication table, and an in-
distinct idea of the rule of three: were it not for the responsibility
and necessities which prompt the energies of men (in after life) to
acquire a better knowledge of these studies, there would remain but
the shadow of their existence. As to geography which might be so
pleasantly learned in a month, children’s memories are filled with a
multitude of names of countries, provinces, capitals, towns, rivers,
&c., in fact, treading beetle-like from point to point over this vast
globe, that at last the memory presents a sort of chaos, a rude and
indigestible mass that is too insupportable not to be cast off and for-
gotten. The sciences, as botany, natural history, mineralogy, geolo-
gy and many others, are seldom named in the prospectus of the most
celebrated establishments. The only approach they make to these
studies is through the medium of some poor itinerant lecturer.
Those studies which could be taught in the green fields and forest
wild and wherever nature was to be seen, when the mind might be
questioned by the spirit of the universe, and the sports and joyous-
ness of childhood and youth, would receive a more exquisite delight
from. the curious and ever new phenomena of nature, unfolded to
them through a master intellect all this is hidden from the inquisi-
tive and apt minds of youth, which if wisely and pleasantly inculca-
ted would fill the world with philosophers, School-masters and
parents coalesce in the annihilation of a noble and elevated spirit ;
for they both misapprehend the real object. of school ; the teacher
must be a conformist to the prejudices of the parents, prejudices
which. originate from their own individual circumstances, so that to
get on at school involves perhaps twenty different opinions with as
many parents, but which getting on is expressive of that tension
without substance that is quickly followed by an irrecoverable col-
lapse. But even with this liberal course of study that is to adapt
a thinking rational soul for the high purpose of its existence, in its
relation to God and man, the moral department is sunk to a few
conventional rules, or hushed up in the quietizing specific of “ reli-
gious formalities.” Nearly all our pupils (says the prospectus of
one of the most celebrated schools in England) belong to the esta-
VOL, X., NO. XXVIII.

-

122 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

blished church. Our morning and evening prayers (which we read:
with strict regularity) consist of portions in the liturgy. On Sun-
day our domestic service includes the greater part of the liturgy and
the lessons of the day.” This, of course, is in addition to a regu-
lar attendance at public worship. A part of the time between the
hours of service isemployed by the pupils in committing the cate-
chism to memory, in transcribing portions of the Scripture or in
reading the same with a view to a subsequent examination. Inclu-
sive in these duties rest the whole moral code of the educative
scheme in most schools. Valuable as are *‘ religious ceremonies” in
raising the soul above a dull and stagnant moral propriety, to the
contemplation of a power infinitely glorious over the highest ration-
al excellence ; yet acting upon the mere senses of children with no
other or deeper consideration of the soul, and unassociated in theory
with the example of love, may discipline them to a sect, but will
never approximate them to God. ‘ Many parents (and teachers)
according to their best knowledge and apprehension of religion in
which they themselves have been educated, and too often according
to their zeal without knowledge, do take great care to plant little
and ill grounded opinions in the minds of their children (or scho-
lars) and so fashion them to a party, by infusing into them the par-
ticular notions and phrases of a sect, which when they come to be
examined, have no substance nor perhaps sense in them; and by
this means instead of bringing them up in the true and solid prin-
ciples of christianity, they take a great deal of pains to instruct
them of some doubtful doctrines of no great moment in religion and
perhaps false at bottom ; whereby instead of teaching them to hate
sin, they fix in them schism and teach them to hate and damn all
those who differ from them and are oppossite to them.’’* But this
compulsive submission of the educator tothe doctrines of any parti-
cular church, creates another and personal injury to the scholars,
for either they must all in the school, wear the same sectarian
livery or the worst evil of superstition will be numbered with the
vices of the school, and schism and the hate of schism, will be added
to the sins of childhood.

The persecution of children is active as their natures ; it pursues
its object with relentless avidity, and everything that could be as-
sociated with the subject of religion is converted into a missile of
offence against the innocent victim of their scorn. The prejudices
of children are derived from their parents, whose opinions (to them)

* Tillotson, Sermon 52, p. 486.

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 123

are naturally infallible; the bigotry of home is interwoven in the
memory of home, and the unchristian-like intolerance of age is thus
rekindled, with an undying fire in the heart of the child: fanned
and fed by the encouragement of the many and the opposition of
the few, it flames into a beacon light of savage superstition and
bigotry. With the specious empiricism of a mis-called “ religious
education,” is it strange that the faith of the parents should wax
warm, and prognosticate of their children an illustrious race of good
and wise men? But with this general looking for of wonders, and
prophesyings of a better and regenerate time, there can be discovered
no harbinger, no avaunt-courier in the van of this golden era, though
mankind are still prescient of its coming. The studies of schools
begin and end with the mere elements of knowledge, and leave the
mind inoperative and incurious after truth. JIntellectually and mo-
rally the nature of man is depressed below its capacities and pur-
poses ; and even with all the violence and ardour of some masters,
the progress of the scholar is marked by the memory more than the
understanding of their lessons. The good will of the teacher who
ignorantly constrains the mind of youth beyond its own powers and
inclinations, and which it might be more slowly brought to approve
and accomplish as an agreeable study, causes an aversion to all kind
of knowledge, and which their minds may never afterwards shake
off, to the injury of themselves and the world. So prevalent is the
evil of coercion in the misguided attempt to accelerate the progress
of learning, that it may be fairly presumed that mankind, by this
means, have Jost the valuable efforts of innumerable minds, which,
had they at first been encouraged by an easy and agreeable mode
and subject of teaching, would have kept ever after in the pursuit
and discovery of truth, to the great and universal interest of the
world.

Systems of education, however ingenious in theory, are often fal-
lacious in practice. The God of Nature and Revelation has opened
to man the true and only way of truth: for man to “ know him-
self” involves the complex relations of all human knowledge and
wisdom,

The first and principal defect in education, even before the de-
fects of learning, is the resignation of the affections to the despotism
of accidental circumstances. The affections are the elements of re-
ligion, and to train up a child in all knowledge, without keeping
pace in the affections, is but to lend a splendour to sin.

“‘As I prefer learning united with virtue to all the treasures of
princes, so I look upon the reputation of learning, when separated

124 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

from good morals, as merely infamy rendered conspicuous.”’* Are
we not, as a nation, guilty of Eli’s sin, and stand convicted before
God? Westrive (though vainly) to make our children learned and
influential, forgetting the first law of nature and the simple element
of happiness, ‘‘ that we should love one another,” which alone can
truly raise our souls through those natural and coalescent virtues of
intelligence and love, to the image of God.

CHAPTER V.

THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE DEGRADATION OF THE PROFESSION
OF THE EDUCATOR UPON THE NATION.

As the degradation of the office of the educator necessarily com-
plicates the degradation of its officer and his duties, either the ad-
vantages of a reformed and national education are questionable and
vain, or the existing abuse and neglect of the office and its duties is
a reproach against the tyranny, superstition, and ignorance of the
whole kingdom. Either the Deity has formed men of dissimilar
natures, and raised one above and one below a general and uniform
law of nature (exhibiting a contrary scarcely conceivable), or the
exclusion of one or any rational and fellow beings from the common
property of truth, is the worst of tyranny against man, and a blas-
phemy towards God. But the injustice done to a people in this
particular is itself a concomitant of the first great and productive
evil—the degraded condition of the office; nor can there be a
stronger argument of the abuse than the universal ignorance of its
existence. To compare the English nation with itself and with
other nations!

The religious diathesis of this kingdom, while it argues a preva-
lence of religious ordinances, blinds the public eye to the natural
and first cause of every evil; at the same time that the spirit of the
word is contending against the “huge overshadowing train of er-
ror” that vitiates and darkens the soul of a people, a degraded edu-
cation is augmenting and multiplying error upon error in a far
greater and more sure ratio, ‘Thus the friend and advocate of reli-
gion is converted into an hereditary foe, and the eastern fable of

* Sir Thomas More, in a Letter fo the Tutor of his Children.

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 125

Ormuz and Ahrimanes is realized as a truth by a christian people
in the nineteenth century. The genii of good and evil are eter-
nal antagonists ; the temple of the moral Janus is thrown open,
never more to close (until a better and wiser education is coalescent
with truth), and man thus sacrifices himself to a perpetual warfare.
Education, as it exists among the wealthier portion of the nation, is
absurd and sinful. The huge collective vice of selfishness prevails
throughout society, and effectually disassociates mankind ; by the
unrestrained contention of private interests community is exchanged
for congregation, and every man’s hand is against his neighbour.
This selfishness of the man is the full-grown habit of the child, and
the arts and cruelties and selfishness of the ‘“ play-ground” are the
same, but with a wider expansion, acting in the world. The pro-
fessions, spiritual and secular, which involve the compound interests
of man, are, by this same original sin, taint and corrupt even to
their centre. The christian minister, whose sacred office calls for
an advocate omnipotent in virtue and humility, whose soul from in-
fancy, kept apart from vice and the defilements of sin, has grown
up into a voluntary coalescence with the divine spirit, exhibits to
the world the exemplar and mirror of Christ, and his conduct,
more than his preaching, is eloquent against sin. Can this sublime
exaltation of the moral nature be discovered in any minister of reli-
gion? Let experience testify: but that they do not attain this
christian eminence and moral purity is their misfortune rather than
their sin. How many are there who preach (and with a perfect
will) the doctrine of universal love, yet exhibit a paradox in prac-
tice! how many dwell in admiration upon the virtue of humility,
who betray too much of the world’s pride! while others, in the con-
tinual strife with their besetting, because long habituated vices,
sink into a despair of their own salvation. Such are the evil con-
sequences of a corrupt education in childhood. Pure and undefiled
religion has no corresponding reality, but is turned from the efficacy
of a living example, to the inert service of a dull formality. Sel-
fishness (the sin of the world) predominates over the christian
church. ‘*Under a pretence of zeal to God, bigotry violates the
sanctuary of conscience, and creates an inquisition in the midst of
the church. Erecting its own creed into a standard of universal
belief, it would fain call down fire from heaven, or kindle a fur-
nace seven times hotter than an ordinary anger would demand, for
all who presume to question its infallibility ; thus justifying the
world in representing the odium theologicum as a concentration of

126 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS OF

all that is fierce, vindictive, and destructive in the human heart.”*
The depravity of the “ human heart” is the inclination for evil in-
sensibly naturalized in the heart of the child, those impressions of .
inert sin which grow up with their years into a state of active and
baneful maturity. As a good education begins in infancy, so it is
settled and perfected in childhood and youth; but is it the rigid dis-
cipline of human selfishness (miscalled piety) that will “train up a
child in the way he should go?” On the contrary, good will be
brought into a near and unfavourable comparison with evil, wear-
ing the disguise and aspect of love. 7

What is taught with severity will be heard with pain, and thus
a religion of love assumes an air of severity, begetting in the heart
an habitual aversion ‘to its presence; leaving the dissatisfied soul to
be attracted by the novelties and delusions of sin. ‘‘ Great severities
do often work an effect quite contrary to that which was intended.
And many times those who were bred up in a severe school hate
learning ever after, for the sake of the cruelty that was used to
force it upon them ; and so likewise an endeavour to bring up chil-
dren to piety and goodness by unreasonable strictness and rigour,
does often beget in them a lasting disgust and prejudice against reli-
gion, and teaches, as Erasmus says, ‘ Virtutem simul odisse et
nosse,’ to hate virtue at the same time that they teach them to know
it. I insist upon this the more, because I do not remember to have
observed more notorious instances of great miscarriage than in the
children of very strict and severe parents.”+

In contemplating the many and serious evils springing from a
degraded and faulty education, hindering the hallowed operation
of true religion, and obscuring the light of the church. What shall
be said of the wisdom and justice of those of our legislators who
are hostile to the general intelligence of the people, who pro-
crastinate the moral amelioration of a nation; not merely indiffer-
ent, but actively opposed, to the spiritual and temporal improvement
of a kingdom. Without a good and wise education, liberty is li-
cense and innovation destructive ; without education the stability of
law is insecure, and the nation is shook between the tyrannies of the
rulers and the people. A good and universal education is so abso-
lutely essential to the happiness and well-being of man, that with-
out it not even the best-ordered and liberal government could long
exist as such, but, from a natural expediency, must fall to a level

* Mammon, p. 356.
+ Tillotson, Sermon 58, p. 500.

ELEVATING THE PROFESSION OF THE EDUCATOR. 127

with the national degradation. Thus the remedial plan is in con-
stant and almost useless operation ; while the judgment hall and
the courts of law are the moral pharmacopoliums of a corrupt and
sinful people, Equity is merged in law, and law into a puzzle of
expediency. Monopoly is the great national characteristic of Great
Britain, not only of communities, but of individuals. The poor man
labours for and at a monopoly ; the artizan, the mechanic, the shop-
keeper, the merchant, the manufacturer, up to the professions, the
bar, the senate, and the church, are all and each monopolies. The
right of private judgment becomes the irritable and deceptive claim
of every monopolist ; and thus private opinion, acting counter to a
common consent, so retards reformation and checks inquiry that
every new-sprung and accidental evil is prolonged into a habit.
From this general and deadened apathy towards national and social
abuses, the vocations of life, from the highest to the lowest, get con-

. taminated with all that is vile and debasing to the soul ; dishonesty
ascends through its modifying disguises of cunning, art, intrigue,
skill, and dexterity, up to the admired virtues of ingenuity and
worldly wisdom, to acquire which men aspire with an eagerness that
makes trivial all the obstacles of sin. By a misapprehension of all
final causes, mankind seem to act upon the principle of converting
evil into good, insomuch that truth and charity are become over-
dated virtues ; while in their stead the obsequious and pliable law
of a conventional propriety is set up. But, knowing this to be the
moral disposition of the higher and more affluent classes, how deep
must be the moral dejection of the multitude! with whom corrup-
tion grows corrupt, and sin engenders upon itself; the mass and
compaction of every vice. “If there be any among the common
objects of hatred I doe contemne and laugh at, it is that great ene-
my of reason, virtue, and religion, the multitude, that numerous
piece of monstrosity, which, taken asunder, seem men and the rea-
sonable creatures of God, but, confused together, make but one great
beast, and a monstrosity more prodigious than Hydra,’’*

Great is the criminality of those rulers, but greater is the guilt
of a dominant christian church, in withholding the common blessing
of a national education. A verdict has gone forth against them,
even from the wisest and holiest of her ministers, whose prescient
minds have prophesied of a better and universal education, and a
purer faith. The multitude are bereaved of their moral sustenance,

* Religio Medici, p. 127-

128 ON THE EXPEDIENCY AND MEANS, &c.

creating a dearth and famine that has ended in all the excesses and
debaucheries of this spiritual want.

The fashionable-dressed vices of the wealthier population now
appear in their naked deformity ; ingenuity and worldly wisdom
are retroverted into bare-faced robbery and theft in a thousand
forms ; the polite circumventions of intrigue are turned into vio-
lence ; and vices which, in the higher grades of society, appeared
as comparative virtues, are denunciated in the lower classes as crimes
against religion and law. The statistical amount of crimes commit-
ted in this country is alarmingly greater than in any other nation ;
while the testimony of travellers exhibits a fearful odds in poverty,
suffering, and crime.

If the government will not educate the people, bad circumstances,
temptations and evil companions will educate them, for man cannot
merely vegetate, either he will learn to do good or evil. In vain is
the voice of religion and reason turned to the ear of a people mo- .
rally deaf, in vain do the humane try to repel the tide of habituated
evil; the remedies they propose are suitable but not adequate in
power, and while individuals or parties may swell the list of con-—
verts, bad and depraved education is moulding and manufacturing a
whole generation in the indulgence and practice of every vice.
Amid the general bouleversement the rulers and governors of this
kingdom are busied in court intrigues and senatorial squabbles ; or
in their utmost efforts stretch not beyond a municipal corporation
bill, or the levying a new impost. Let them be assured, God who
is in heaven judges them already, and hereafter will convict them
of the sins and crimes of a people to which by their neglect; of a
good and wise and impartial national education they are acces-
sories.*

* And it is pity that commonly more care is had, yea, and that among
very wise men, to find out rather a cunning man for their horse than a cun-
ning man for their children. They say nay in word, but they do so in deed: for
to one they will gladly give a stipend of two hundred crowns by the year,
- and loth to offer to the other two hundred shillings. God, that sitteth in
heaven, laugheth their choice to scorn, and rewardeth their liberality as it
should; for he suffereth them to have tame and well-ordered horses, but wild
and unfortunate children; and therefore, in the end, they find more plea-
sure in their horse than comfort in their children rates Ascham’s School-
master, p. 206-7.

(To be continued. )

129

THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN.

Tue Italian Opera has advanced into the fourth month of its
season without one single dramatic novelty having been presented
to the subscribers. They have been led to expect the production of
Rossini’s “ Guilleaume Tell,” but the reality is still in remote per-
spective. The ‘Lucrezia Borgia” of Donizetti is actually an-
nounced for Grisi’s benefit ; but up to the present date (June Ist)
it has been postponed. Mr. Laporte is a man of golden promise,
but of leaden fulfilment—a line of conduct which we verily believe
accords with the predilections of his aristocratic supporters ; for Mr.
Laporte is “wise in his generation.” He knows that they doat
upon being humbugged, because it is genteel, unmercantile. None
but contractors and stock-jobbers, and such vulgar bores, insist upon
the letter of their bond. How are the classes to be distinguished,
but by opposite courses of conduct? The wily manager, therefore,
makes florid protestations, and they trust he will be deliberate, and
do nothing in a vulgar heat. He promises a world of novelty, and
they murmur to him, in the Mandane strain,

‘“‘ Forbear to fan the gentle flame,
Oh! let us be deceived !”

The appearance of Madlle. Pauline Garcia, younger sister of the
eminent Malibran, has been to us, as well as to the discriminating
portion of the musical public, a novelty of more than ordinary in-
terest. She made her debut on the 9th of May, in the character of
Desdemona, and would assuredly have produced a very lively sensa-
tion had not the public expectancy been over-excited by a prepara-
tory running fire of mischievous puffs. We were advertised that we
should hear a finer singer than her sister, and we found a timid,
sensitive girl, between seventeen and eighteen years of age, with a
voice (of course) not fully developed, but of rare and glorious pre-
tension. It is of the same noble and weighty quality as her sister’s,
and, we conjecture, of the same surprising compass. In a musician-
like composition, written for her by Costa, and introduced upon this
occasion, she dwelt fully and firmly (if our memory be correct) upon
F below the line and the c in alt. Speaking from remote recvllec-
tion of her sister, and with the immediate impression of Pauline’s
tones upon our mind, we should gay that her voice is more equal

VOL. X., NO. XXVIII. 17

130 THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN.

throughout than that of Malibran ; and in actual accomplishment
she decidedly and greatly surpasses her at the same age. All this, .
in itself, is gratifying enough ; but for the confirmation of her being
naturally a musical genius, we should rest upon the simple circum-
stance that we found ourselves perpetually recurring to her cordial
tones, her spontaneous and unartificial expression, her noble, unme-
chanical delivery of her passages, and her sensible manner altoge-
ther.. In short, if she realize the expectation of all the judges who
have only partially witnessed her capabilities, she will at no distant
period develope into a consummate artist.

Madlle. Pauline’s second attempt in a new character, which was
that of “‘ La Cenerentola,” on the 15th of June, thoroughly con-
firmed the estimate we had previously made of her talent, both na-
tural and cultivated. Her embodying of the character we could
scarcely pronounce to be the result of a lesson taught, studied, and
learnt, though, at her age, such was doubtless the case to a certain
extent ; for there were indescribable minutiz in manner, carriage,
and general tone, which evinced the young actress of sound sense
and developing genius ; while the quality of certain notes in either
extremity of her compass, together with the runs of double oetaves,
which formed so dignified a feature in her sister’s style, revived re~
gretful thoughts of that eminent creature. In the former part of
the character she was the injured, subdued outcast of her family ;
and in the latter, the self-asserting, yet generous heroine of con-
scious rectitude and good fortune ; and each feature of the character
was depicted without harshness of line, or ostentation of display.
Her singing throughout was singularly fine for so young an artist ;
the clever canone in the second act was encored, chiefly on account
of the judicious manner in which she sustained her part in it; and,
indeed, we could not avoid drawing a comparison in this very move-
ment between the beautifully subdued and genuine concerted singing
of this girl of seventeen, and the uneasy display of Tamburini,
whose “ shivering, bob” notes, eternal roulades without meaning,
and ONE cadence, denote the artist of undue success attributable to
the strength of a fine vocal organ, rather than to slender accomplish-
ments and still slenderer genius. The finale to ‘“ La Cenerentola,”
(«Non piu mesta’”) we have, of course, heard executed with greater
force and executive finish, but never with more natural feeling and
expression. Unlike almost all other singers, too, who stick them-
selves by the lamps, and give the audience to understand that they
are about to present them with a notable piece of work, Madlle.
Pauline every now and then addressed herself with an affectionate

THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN. 131

gratitude to the prince, her lover, who had appreciated her character,
and given the most signal proof in his power that he had done so.

On the 6th of June the “ Lucretia Borgia” of Donizetti was per-
formed, introducing to the subscribers the new tenor, Sig. Mario
(his first appearance in public, here, was at the Philharmonic on the
previous Monday, the 3rd). Dr. Johnson refused to accompany
Mrs. Thrale in a ride to the country, saying ‘“‘ Madam, I hate
green fields ; when you have seen one green field you have seen
every green field.” Had the Doctor been invited to a modern Ita-
lian opera, and parodied this anomalous repugnance to green fields,
his criticism would have been accurate, and his taste judicious ; for
of a truth, when you have heard one Italian opera of the last ten or
twelve years’ mint, you have heard every opera. The same charac-
ter of melody constantly recurs; the same phrases, the same pro-
gressions, the same cadences. Donizetti’s chief merit appears to
us to lie in writing a simple and plaintive cavatina, of which we
have some really pretty and graceful specimens; his instrumental
accompaniments, also, are nicely and skilfully appointed. There are
two of this class in the “ Lucretia,’ one of which (if our recollec-
tion serve upon a single hearing) was transferred from the opera of
“‘I] Furioso.”” These, and an agreeable trio, form the chief merits
of the opera of “ Lucretia Borgia.” Indeed, to speak without pre-
judice (for we desire only refinement, variety, and food for thought)
the whole of this opera is a “‘ semper eadem” from beginning to end—
nay, we might more justly say “ semper pejorem,” for each new pro-_
duction seems to get worse and worse as good composition is declin-
ing in Italy.* Let the vocal supply in Italy fail, andin what limbo
would be registered the modern Italian opera?

Sig. Mario’s voice is a high tenor, of sweet quality in the upper
part of its compass ; not very flexible: for this, however, we care
little, for the rage for flexibility has sacrificed all just and grand
expression. It is rather “ plummy” in the middle and lower divi-
sions, but is correctly in tune when not over-exerted. Its general
character may be recognised when we designate it a plaintive or

* The following is the opinion of the Morning Post upon this opera, which,
if not so intelligible as could be wished, is nevertheless amusing. “Some of
our contemporary critics have rather overshadowed with their displeasure
Donizetti’s Lucretia. The deficiencies we see in it are amore CASTIGATO subject,
and a few melodies wrought in relief upon the concerted pieces, such as satisfy the
sybarite who likes to cull pleasure without effort of attention, as well as the dilet-
tanti who live in the innermost penetralia of the mysteries of the musical fane.”
Fine writing, like “ fair play, is a jewel.”

132 THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN,

grieving voice ; and therefore we should say that, although physi-
cally unequal to the high-flying, principal parts in the great style,
he will always be estimable in those of the gently pathetic class=

An illustration of the first paragraph in the present article oc-
curred on the night of Sig. Mario’s debut ; showing the cuntemptu-
ous insolence with which the frequenters of this theatre are treated
by Mr. Laporte, who, throughout his management appears to have
an equal scorn of that principle in moral geometry, that “ the short-
est distance between two given points is by a direct line.” The
bills of performance announced that between the first and second
acts Madlle. Taglioni would dance a Polish dance, and after the se-
cond act a Russian dance, which would be succeeded by the ballet
of * La Gitana.” We had nothing but the ballet. No murmur—
no apology. The plebs in the pit and gallery were inert, and the
** genteels’” were delighted—they were “‘ deceived”—the distinction
was accurately preserved between their house and that low-lived
hole, Covent Garden, where the manager’s word would have been
disgustingly fulfilled to the last letter.

Covent Garden Theatre has again been the scene of a signal fai-
lure in the production of a new opera, adding one more confirma-
tion of the desideratum we have so frequently insisted upon, viz.
that in order to ensure success for an English opera, with an En-
glish audience, the drama itself must possess some interest in its
plot, and some common sense and grammatical construction in its dia-
logue. What the character of an Italian libretto may be, is of little
consequence ; it may triumph in absurdity, it may revel in dulness
and balderdash ; the audience care nothing about the. story, they
require two or three arias, two or three duets, and a tantara-ra-rara
of a finale to each act. Ifthe piece contain one or two melodies of
a popular character, it will prove the successful opera of the season.
But the case is different at our national theatres. There the audi-
ence look for something like dramatic incident, with respectability
(at all events) of diction. In both these important requisites, the
machinery of Mr. Rooke’s opera of ‘ Henrique, or the Love Pil-
grim,” was deplorably deficient. ‘The plot was so ingeniously in-
volved as to defy all attempts at a solution of it: and the dialogue
and versification so vapid as to demand some mastery over the fa-
culties to knit them to the duty of attention. ‘The consequence of
all this was, that “‘ Henrique” was performed for the first time on
the 29th of April, and the last time on the 9th of May. It strug-
gled through four or five nights, and then faded into the cold re.
gions of oblivion, Mr. Rooke is in no other respect answerable for

THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN. 133

the fatal issue of his opera than in a want of judgment in accepting
such a piece as a vehicle for his music, which, if not of so popular a
class as that in the “‘ Amelie,” contained nevertheless several move-
ments distinguished by elegance and _professor-like counterpoint.
His melodies are uniformly graceful, and instrumented with the
most accurate judgment of their distinctive characters. His accom-
paniments are never encumbered ; and as he rarely employs the full
orchestra but upon important occasions, the effect, by contrast, is
considerably heightened, while the senses are agreeably relieved
from that jaded feeling too often the result of sitting through a ma-
jority of the modern operas, wherein the whole band are kept upon
active duty, as if the score were both written and played by con-
tract—the largest supply of material for the least remuneration.
The fate of Mr. Rooke’s opera is sincerely to be regretted, both on
his own account (for we believe the copyright remains unsold) and
on that of the musical public ; who, with even a commonplace inci-
dent and rational dialogue, would have carried the piece through
triumphantly to the end of the season. As it was, the effect was
almost as wearying (and this is saying much) as a stale jest-book.

With the new opera, the public were introduced to a new tenor,
Mr. Harrison, a pupil of the Royal Academy, and latterly, as we
have heard, of Mr. Rooke. The quality of Mr. Harrison’s tone is
of the average character, with perhaps more than the average
power ; but we cannot compliment either the singer or his tutors
upon any accession being made in his person to the English vocal
school. He is deficient in elevation of style, and, we should say,
generally in intelligence of the art; in other words, he is common-
place and mechanical. The singer who pleased us most upon this
occasion was Mr. Manvers. Appointed to an inferior station in the
opera, he nevertheless had the good sense to study his music with
additional care; and the consequence was, that no song received
greater applause than one of a martial character allotted to him,
and which he delivered with an energy and effect that none of his
previous attempts had at all demonstrated, or led his hearers to
anticipate.

Mr. Macready is said to have lost £600. by the failure of “‘ Hen-
rique ;” and the truth of the report is probable, since it was pro-
duced at great cost of theatrical property, with expensive engage-
ments. The wonder is, that with his experience in dramatic writ-
ing, he should have accepted such a piece ; but if, as we have also
‘heard, that he had advanced money to the composer before he had
seen what he was to receive, he has paid the forfeit of his generous

134 THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN.

indiscretion, and furnished a lesson to other managers not to trust
the egotism or cupidity of composers, who appear to cling to the
notion (in defiance of every year’s experience) that any thing will
serve to hang music upon—like a clothes-horse, or dumby, for dis-
playing a fashionable ready-made coat.

After the failure of “ Farinelli” at Drury Lane, and when the
zoological curiosity of the public was satiated, the lessee made an
experiment of giving shilling concerts, where strange vagaries were
enacted both by performers and audience. As, however, Mr. Bunn
did not include in the admission money a glass of rum and water
and a segar for the purchaser of a ticket, he had no chance with
the landlord of the Eagle Tavern, and was in consequence obliged
to shut up his house. Since which event Miss Romer and Mr.
Balfe have been sharing with the manager of the Surrey Theatre—
and very successfully ; for in one week we know, from the best au-
thority, that the lady’s profits amounted to more than £70. Before
this number goes to press Mr. Braham will probably have joined
_ the company, for he is announced as being engaged.

The Philharmonic Concerts, notwithstanding the unreasonable-
ness of some of the subscribers, excited by the interested antipathy
of a writer or two, whose services are no longer needed by the so-
ciety, have gone on increasing in attraction to the close of the sea-
son. The directors have had difficulties and perplexities to encoun-
ter, which have made their task to provide a succession of novelty
for the subscribers a most laborious one. They have been disap-
pointed of a new symphony by Spohr; also of one by Schubert
(the recommendation of Mendelssohn), which those snat/-waggon
Germans will have ready for performance about a fortnight after
the season has closed. They have received two or three overtures
strongly recommended to them, bunt which, upon trial, they could
not bring forward. They would have engaged Duprez for four
concerts, had his terms been a little more moderate than £500. per
night. 'They could not engage Laporte’s company ; and had they
been able to do so, the subscribers would have complained of the
music those people would insist upon singing. When we had the
Italians at the Philharmonic, it was the eternal cry, “ Why do you
not give us better music ?” and when our native artists selected the
most classical compositions, the subscribers groaned after “ the flesh-
pots of Italy!” The directors have done their best, and they have
done well. Every singer, not. within the influence of the opera ma-
nager, has been engaged ; no instrumentalist of acknowledged repu-
tation has visited us without having the means afforded him of dis-

THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN. 135

playing his talent ; and the programme of each evening has been as
judiciously selected as we believe the circumstances would admit.
Where large resources are afforded, and no advantage is taken of
them, we should be the foremost to stigmatize the neglect ; where
these are cramped, and unlooked-for obstacles supervene, it is fool-
ish as well as unjust to vituperate : but injustice and folly commonly
go hand in hand.

At the second of these concerts the novelties of the evening were,
a concerto pastorale” by Mr. Moscheles ; and the first appearance
in this country of Herr David, of Leipsic, a distinguished violinist.
The composition of Mr. Moscheles was pronounced by some of his
hearers to be clever, although eccentric, with too strong a leaning
to the conceited *‘ Romantique school” of the French. Clever it
undoubtedly is, for it contains striking effects, thoughtful writing,
and masterly orchestral combination. If it be ‘ eccentric,” it is not
necessarily ‘* Romantique,” seeing that it is not destitute of ration-
ality or design. In their imaginative literature as well as in their
music ** young France” is meretriciously mad: no vagary is re-
jected that will induce observation—no principle worthless which
makes its followers conspicuous. May the day be still remote that
the countrymen of Jon Minton “shall need the Monsieurs of
Paris to take our hopeful youth into their slight and prodigal cus-
todies, and send them over back again transformed into mimics,
apes, and kickshows.”*

Herr David is a pupil of Spohr, and brother to Mad. Dulcken.
His tone is strong, firm, and pure ; his cantabile eloquent, his in-
tonation exact, and his bowing grand and masterly. To all’which
excellent qualities may be added that he is a faultless timist.
What with his manual accomplishment, and the composition he
played, both of which stamp him a worthy disciple of so eminent a
master, Herr David will leave behind him an honourable reputation
when he quits our shores.

The fourth concert introduced to us a M.S. overture by Stern-
dale Bennett (“The Wood Nymphs”), an early composition, and
indicating the future great musician: for although, with the prodi-
gality incident to youth, the subject was too much attenuated, and
the intention not sufficiently marked, yet the orchestral treatment
and effects were masterly. Mr. Bennett, we understand, was not
eighteen when he wrote this overture.

* Tractate on Education.

136 THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN.

A Madlle. De Riviere, a vocalist of the French school, also
made her first appearance upon this occasion. She possesses a clear,
bell-like tone, and (speaking from recollection) a correct ear ; but
her delivery, and manner altogether, were unfeelingly mechanical
and correct.

At this concert Herr David confirmed the opinion we entertained
of his talent upon the previous evening. He sustained in a mas-
terly manner the first violin in the fine ottetto of Spohr; the
slow movement to which is one of the most lovely melodies, and
most beautifully treated that ever came from the pen of the com-
poser ; and the finale to it, perhaps, one of his most original. An
introduction and Russian air varied, performed by Herr David in
the second act, although bearing throughout the impress of a good
musician, was nevertheless inferior in point of merit to his first
composition. The constant repetition of these “ airs variés’ may
possibly dispose us to contemplate them with a half indifference.

At the fifth concert young Bennett played his piano forte con-
certo in F minor ; a work upon which we Have heretofore dwelt
with considerable satisfaction. 'This was its first performance at
the Philharmonic. In the second act we were introduced to a
young violoncellist, Mons. Batta, a Belgian of high reputation on
the continent. For strength and richness of tone we have, and we
know no higher standard than those of Mr. Lindley. None of the
solo players from abroad, that we have heard of late years, are able
to compete with our countryman upon this point ; and the reason
appears to be, that since the object in modern violoncello playing is
to sacrifice body and quality of tone to execution, this is accom-
plished by using strings of less diameter; for it would be miracu-
lous that any player should execute the same passages we heard
from Mons. Batta’s instrument with Lindley’s bow and strings.
The result, therefore, is, that we have a thin tone, too nearly ap-
proaching to that of a viola, with extraordinary execution: and
upon this point, with the mastery of his bowing, we accord to
Mons. Batta unqualified applause. They who are contented with
what Lindley can accomplish upon his instrument (and it cannot be
denied that it is sufficient for every purpose short of extravagant
execution), will compound for legerdemain, that they may possess
the rich and legitimate tone of the violoncello.

A Madlle. Lewig, pupil of the late Ferdinand Ries, performed a
concerto of her master’s at the sixth concert. The young lady is a
showy player, but an indifferent timist. Having already hada

_—

THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN. 137

was no judicious friend, who, having heard what she could do, re-
commended her being engaged.

Herr Hauman, a disciple (and worthy one) in the Paganini
schoo], played in the second act. With a pardonable foppery, the
pupils of Rubens used to imitate the dress of their master, and fa-
shion of his beard. The general air and manner of M. Hauman is
precisely that of his great prototype ; he however possesses qualities
in his art which redeem the less creditable condescension of becom.
ing a mimic, where there is abundance of real talent to establish a
fame for himself. M. Hauman has an absolute command of his in-
strument. His manner of covering the finger-board is very like
Paganini ; and (like Paganini) he appears to be prepared-by nature
for reaching great distances with but little shifting of the hand.
He therefore darts with admirable certainty from the lowest notes
of his violin to the “ ultima thule” of its compass upwards. His
bowing is masterly and grand ;. and his performance of double stops,

and staccato passages quite extraordinary. In the last movement of
his concerto he introduced a variation in staccato, which we believe
no one but Paganini could play like him :—in short, after the emi-
nent Italian, he is the greatest accomplisher of difficulties that we
have heard.

A rival to him of the French school, a Mons. Artot, performed a
fantasia at the seventh concert. With too great a display of what
our neighbours denominate “intense feeling and expression,” so
that the whole of his adagio movement was a succession of slides
and tremors, with scarce a firmly held note, Mons. Artot is never-
theless a very refined and accomplished artist. The concluding va-
riation to his fantasia was also one of excessive difficulty, and he ex-
ecuted it with exquisite neatness and certainty.

At this and the previous concert the public first heard the new
singer, Mad. Dorus Gras. As this is distinctly the mechanical era
in music, and that it has attained toa degree of florid perfection
which all but completes the circle, we may hope for an early change
of fashion and manner ; and, indeed, it is to be confidently expected
when we consider how soon every novelty in Paris is “ deja vieux,”
and how prone the genteel million here are to adopt every sugges-
tion that is French. Mad. Dorus is perhaps the most expert, the
most accomplished, executer of solfeggi passages now living. Her
distances are taken with unerring certainty, her divisions are run
with the quickness and volubility (though not with the melting
quality) of the nightingale ; her chromatic passages, up as well as

VOL, X., NO. XXVIII. 18

138 THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN.

down the scale (and the difference in respect of difficulty every ar-
tist knows) are singularly accurate. Here, however, our admiration
of the singer ceases. Her quality of voice is hard, loud, and unfeel-
ing ; for we do not call the sudden suppression of tone, and the
yearning forward of the head, a genuine display of feeling and ex-
pression. Loudness and softness are, in themselves, no indication .
of feeling—it is in the fone, which goes at once to ‘ Love's throne,”
and can no more be described than the “ fleeting air.” Moreover,
Mad. Dorus sings exquisite stuff ; and this of itself argues little for
her musical feeling. At her first appearance she sang a solo from
the ‘“‘Cheval de Bronze,’ about the “torment of widowhood,”
wherein the music and the words are worthy of each other; and
the latter are an epitome of the execrable French morality. The
composition, however, contains some very difficult solfeggi passages,
and these she undoubtedly executed to the admiration of all who
estimate a surprising dexterity.

The selections at the “ Ancient Concerts” this season have ma-
manifested a decided improvement, Many unworthily neglected
compositions of the old masters have been reproduced, to the satis-
faction, as we hear, of all the lovers of sterling ancient music.
Muth of the merit for these restorations is said te be awarded to the
superintending zeal and good taste of Lord Burghersh.

The activity of the directors of the “ Societa Armonica,” in en-
gaging the most eminent foreign:artists, who, with the Swallows,
take advantage of our summer season ; together with their zealous
endeavours to promote the cause of classical music, entitle them to
good report; and, as a consequence of it, have secured them, as we
are informed, a full subscription.

The last performance at Exeter Hall, which took place on the 7th
of June, consisted of the ‘‘ Dettingen te Deum,”’ a short miscellane-
ous selection, and Haydn’s First Mass. It was to us an evening of
almost unalloyed extacy. The last work has probably never before
been performed by so large an orchestra ; and, taken altogether,
most probably never with finer precision. The effect of the cho-
ruses was transcendently fine, especially of the magnificent fugue
at the end of the “Gloria.” The trebles and basses are the best of
this vocal orchestra ; the altos are rathér shrieky, and the tenors
apt to be out of tune. Altogether, however, we have no musical
entertainment like these performances, and certainly none so calcu-
lated to refine and confirm the national taste for the grandest and
most perfect of all composition—that of the stupendous choral
fugue.

THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN. 139

The solo singers upon the present occasion were, Miss Wyndham,
Miss Cawthorn, Messrs, Bennett, Young, and H. Phillips. The
soli movements in the mass were not equally satisfactory ; and with
truth, although with regret we say it, they were injured by the in-
tractable violence of the second lady just named. So overpowering
were her tones, that the several. movements were solos for Miss
Cawthorn, accompanied by the other singers.

We witnessed with pleasure the fulfiling of one suggestion in our
last report of this society, by the engagement of Sig. Dragonetti.
This circumstance induces us to hope that the committee will not
lose sight of another thrown out about a year ago, viz. that in their
miscellaneous performances they will introduce some of our national
choral anthems; above all, for an audience like that at Exeter
Hall, where effect naturally makes the strongest appeal, that famous
anthem of Dr. Blow, “I was in the spirit.” Phillips’s fine decla-
matory style will tell admirably in the solos, and these responded by
the ‘‘ Hallelujahs” (piano and pianissimo), of the heavenly host,
can scarcely fail to produce a strong impression upon the audience.
The present article will have gone to press before the next revival
will have taken place, which will be the oratorio of “ Joshua.”

The benefit concerts have been very numerous, but, we hear, not
equally remunerating this season. The most interesting that we
attended were, Sig. Benedict’s, on account of his rich assemblage of
vocal talent, for he was assisted by almost every artist of repute,
foreign and native, in the country; and Mr. Cipriani Potter’s,
which, for the instrumental division of his programme, was precisely
the concert which should be given by the principal of the Royal
Academy. This consisted of his own excellent symphony in B flat,
and the Pastoral Symphony of Beethoven. Mr. Potter himself
performed Mendelssohn’s second pianoforte concerto ; a Prelude and
Fugue of Sebastian Bach with Dragonetti, who played the pedale
part; and some very clever Bravura variations from a theme in his
own dramatic composition of “‘ Coradino.” Herr David also per-
formed a solo; and the overture to “ Der Freischiitz” closed the
concert. Mr. Potter, we think, never played in a more masterly
manner than upon the present occasion, the more surprising from
his having added to his fatigue and anxiety the arduous duty of con-
ducting a three hours’ performance.

We notice, by a paragraph in one of the Worcester papers, that
the directors of the approaching festival have handsomely considered
the suggestion we threw out at the close of the last festival season,
with regard to the erection of seats at such prices as to enable the

140 THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN.

humbler citizens and tradespeople to partake of the performances.
We have little doubt that the committee will, on every account, con-
gratulate the result of their extended plan of accommodation. Miss
Clara Novello is engaged to make her first public appearance upon
her return to England at the Worcester Festival, which will com-
mence, on the 10th of September.

THE MUSICIAN OUT OF TOWN.

TuE following is a brief report of the late Diisseldorf Festival,
and which we happily were enabled to attend. Mendelssohn was
conductor, and the first morning’s performance (19th of May) con-
sisted of the “‘ Messiah,” the first time for twenty years since it has
been given at any of the Rhine festivals. The chorusses, taken alto-
gether, were very good, especially the trebles and basses. The effect
of female voices in the altos is not so powerful and piercing as when
that part is taken by men, but it is more agreeable. The band, ge-
nerally speaking, wanted unity; but this is to be accounted for by its
being formed of amateurs as well as professors, who all assemble ©
from adjacent districts.

We have heretofore spoken of Mendelssohn as a conductor. His
exertions upon the present occasion were gigantic. At the rehearsal
his unwearied patience, his vast orchestral knowledge, his playful, yet
firm and persuasive manners, were all conspicuous. He harangued
the bahd with admirable tact and humour, making them shout with
laughter and applause. On one occasion he told them, in some piano
passage, that doubtless each was anxious to hear his own individual
voice or instrument, and he was prepared to acknowledge that it was
very fine; but that if they would each endeavour to listen to their
neighbours’ beautiful execution, they would proportionately soften
their own, and this would produce exactly the piano effect he wanted
in that particular passage. Upon another occasion he requested some
ambitious performer to alter his style, which too closely resembled
the tone of a cat scratching a silk gown. Another time, with an
amiable playfulness, he said, “Gentlemen, am I never to hear that
passage again as charmingly done as you did it yesterday ?” and in
this way he lightened the toil, of a strenuous rehearsal. He must
have been gratified with the honours he received, although, like all
true geniuses, he is so modest as rather to shrink from applause. On

THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN. 141

the second evening, a bouquet of choice flowers was placed between
the leaves of his score on his desk.

The principal singers were—sopranos, Miss Clara Novello, and
Madlle. Fassman, from the opera at Berlin; alto, Madlle. Schloss,
from Cologne; tenor, Herr Schmidt, from Leipsig, who undertook
the songs at a very short notice, in consequence of Herr Schmetzer,
from Brunswick (who was engaged as tenor) being prevented from
attending by his other engagements ; and the bass, Herr Hinze, from
Diisseldorf. 7

The chorus was chiefly composed of amateurs ; and it was pleasant
to recognise amidst them some of the most celebrated painters of
Germany, among others, Hildebrandt, Schirmer, &c. Every re-
hearsal, which was crowded, may be said to have been a rehearsal to
both audience and performers, since it enabled them to become ac-
quainted with this grand music, and which requires thoroughly know-
ing to appreciate ; and, from not having been performed for so many
years, it must have been quite new to a large proportion of the
hearers.

The opening recitative, ‘‘ Comfort ye,” was but an indifferent per-
formance in our judgment, who had so vivid a recollection of Braham
in the same piece. ‘The bass singer, also, was somewhat out of tune
in “But who may abide,” but he afterwards improved. ‘“ He
shall purify,” “‘ For unto us,” and “ His yoke is easy,” were sung as
both quartett and chorus ; and not so those which are always taken
in that manner in England—* Their sound is gone out,” and “ Lift
up your heads.” We do not, however, like the effect so well, espe-
cially in the “ For unto us,” where its majesty of character is totally
destroyed. The alto was rather tame in “ O thou that tellest,” and
the bass recitative and air, “ The people that walked in darkness,”
was taken a thought too fast. ‘‘ There were shepherds” was charm-
ingly sung ; as also “ Rejoice greatly,” which in Germany is usually
taken by the tenor: but the triumph of Miss Clara Novello’s singing
was the “I know that my Redeemer,” and which was so great a fa-
vourite at the court of Berlin that, whatever may have been per-
formed in the course of the evening, the crown prince always de-
manded that air of the singer. ‘He shall feed” is performed in
four alternate passages, and not two, asin England. We do not like
the effect of it. Madlle. Schloss’s best song was “‘ He was despised,”
but her style is unfinished. Madlle. Fassmann sang “ Behold and
see,’ and “ Thou didst not leave.” This is the artist so celebrated
for her performance in Gluck’s operas. She was engaged from Berlin

142 THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN.

expressly for the Diisseldorf Festival, and was to have had the “ Al-
ceste” got up on the third day for her; but, owing to the non-arrival
of the music, the plan was relinquished, much to our regret, as we
would fain have heard this singer in her own peculiar style. She is
a remarkably fine woman, with delicate features, and a profusion of
hair, which she wears in long curls dropping down her cheeks.

The choruses best performed were, “ Worthy is the Lamb,” the
“‘ Hallelujah,” and “ All we like sheep;” but, partiality out of the
question, the vocal band were not equal to that at Exeter Hall for
union, energy, and precision.

Second Performance.—Evening. The Symphonia Eroica of
Beethoven opened the concert. In the first movement the violoncel-
los were not sufficiently powerful. There was a want of finish in the
sudden. pianos ; and the passages of delicacy were deficient in brilli-
ancy. Moreover, the violins wanted clearness; and the slow move-
ment was deficient in smoothness and singing in the instruments.
The minuet went remarkably well; but the passage for wind instru-
ments in the trio as badly as that passage almost uniformly does.
The finale, which was lamentably indistinct, was the worst executed
of all the movements.

Beethoven’s mass in c, which succeeded, was nicely performed ;
the choruses stole in with a delightful piano in the “ Kyrie ;’ but it
is needless to say that Herr Julius Rietz, who was conductor upon
this occasion, is not a Mendelssohn. As a composer too, he is not to
our taste: an overture of his, which came after the Beethoven's
mass was tremendously noisy, with running passages for the brass in-
struments. The subject of the second movement, the allegro, was
an imitation of Spohr. Then came Mendelssohn’s glorious psalm
“ As pants the hart,” excellently performed as regards the choruses ;
but this school of music is so totally out of Fassman’s style, that in
our opinion she completely spoiled it. It was on the third evening
that we heard this celebrated singer to advantage. The first notes
she uttered of Mozart’s fine duet, “ Fuggi crudele,” showed us at
once that the dramatic, and not the sacred, is her forte. She after-
wards sang a recitative and air from Gluck’s “ Iphigenia,” which is
considered as her greatest effort; and undoubtedly she delivers it
with effective dignity; and had she a better quality of voice, which is
somewhat reedy, and wholly without flexibility, she would have ren-
dered complete justice to this admirable composition.

Upon this occasion too, Clara Novello’s varied powers were more
fully developed to the people of Diisseldorf; as at the same concert

THE MUSICIAN ABOUT TOWN. 143

she sang Haydn’s “ With verdure”—all purity and poetical descrip-
tion; Bellini’s “* Casta Diva”—full of noble self-assertion, indignant
remonstrance, and fluctuating passion; and the national airs of
“Bonnie Prince Charlie” (this song was given at the desire of
Prince Frederick of Prussia, who honoured the festival with his pre-
sence) and “God save the Queen ;” which last, when vehemently
encored, she sang in German.

We had the delight of hearing Mendelssohn play his celebrated
concerto in D minor—the one which he composed for the Birming-
ham festival in 1837; and it is with no disparagement to the three
eminent professors whom we have heard play this piece in England,
viz: Mrs. Anderson, Mad. Dulcken, and Mr. Moscheles, when we
say, that it is only its composer who can render it full justice. His
touch is quite perfect: the utmost delicacy and polish are combined
with an equal vigour, clearness, and precision.

On the Tuesday and Wednesday there were races given, at which
the Prince Frederick, the Prince of Strelitz, and the whole of the
court were present. On the latter day the Prince gave a dinner to
the whole of the artists who had contributed so much to the public
gratification ; and in the evening there wasa ball prepared in the
concert room for the towns people, at which the royal party appeared
for a short time.

The orchestra upon this occasion consisted of 126 sopranos ; 62
altos ; 106 tenors; 134 basses, making 428 voices. The instru-
mentalists were, 67 violins; 22 violas; 22 violoncellos; 12 double
basses ; 6 flutes; 4 oboes; 4 clarinets; 4 bassoons; 1 ophicleide ;
4 horns; 4 trumpets; 1 bass trumpet, and 4 trombones: 155 in-
struments, which, with the 2 conductors, and chorus masters com-
prised an orchestra of 586 performers.

144

AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF FRENCH
LITERATURE.

V.—ON THE LOVE-SONGS OF THE TROUBADOURS.

“ He saide hee loved, and was beloved nothing ;
Of swich matere, made hee many layes,

Songes, complaintes, roundels, virelayes ;

How that he durst not his sorwe telle,

But languisheth as dothe a furie in helle ;

And die he must, he said, as did Ecco

For Narcissus, that durst not tell here woe.”

Cuaucer, Frankeleines Tale.

VARIED as are the productions of the Provengal bards, the most
exalted and conspicuous station in their poésy must undoubtedly be
assigned to their love songs. The influence of woman, which, under
their Roman conquerors, they had slighted and disowned, was now,
under their Gothic rulers, acknowledged in its most despotic shape.
Love, as an idol, reigned supreme, and before his shrine were freely
lavished those feelings of reverence and of veneration which ought
to be excited only by the contemplation of an Heavenly One. De-
spite, however, this impassioned and ill-directed fervour, despite the
laxity of morals which so peculiarly distinguished the age, it must
be allowed that these outpourings of uncultivated genius were of
unquestionable utility in an age of darkness and of oppression, when
the superior trampled with despotic violence on the inferior, when
feudalism was dominant, and when a long-continued system of ser-
vitude had degraded and brutalized mankind. The joyous strains of
the Troubadours naturally elicited corresponding feelings of tender-
ness and love, and thus, arousing man’s mental faculties from the
degrading lethargy in which they had so long and so inertly slum-
bered, awakened him to a sense of his innate might, inspired him
with new wants and new affections, evinced the value of social en-
joyments and relations, and finally, by leading him from the dark
and lowering aspect of the present, to the bright and airy vistas of
the future, demonstrated the benefits of mental refinement and
cultivation.

The love poems of the Provengals, though they present a profu-
sion, possess but little real sentiment. It has also, with some show
of justice, been objected to these compositions, that they are replete
with the same ideas, that the same images and the same metaphors

AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF FRENCH LITERATURE. 145

are continually recurring, and that the poetry, which of all others
should be the most glowing and impassioned, is, with few excep-
tions, the most insipid and the most heartless. This objection, how-
ever, must be not a little qualified, when we reflect that it must
apply to all poetry of sentiment: without any incidents to keep the
attention from flagging; this class of poetry is to be enjoyed only
when the mind is in a fit mood, and then only by morsels. If pe-
rused in this manner, few will deny that in many, at least, of the
Provencal love songs, the tenderness and purity of passion are ex-
quisitely described ; while in others the gracefulness of the style,
combined with the regular return of the metre, present a charm
which, though fully sensible of its influence, we find it difficult to
account for.

In history in general, but more particularly in that of literature,
there are few more important errors committed than by the inconsi-
derate use of general theories and views; their great misfortune
being, that what may be true of literature, or history as a whole, is
frequently totally false as to some of the parts of which it is com-
posed. ‘T’his false criticism is nowhere more plainly seen than in
the branch of Provencal literature which we are now discussing, in
the consideration of which there are two opposing parties, the one
headed by the Schlegels, Raynouard, and the French critics ; the o-
ther led by Dunlop, Hatlam,* and the generality of our English writ-
ers. The opinions of both parties are generally expressed without any
limitations, the first affirming that the amatory productions of the
Troubadours are exquisitely graceful, and tender, and fervid, and
beauteous ; the second fulmining their anathemas, and decrying
them as incongruous, insipid, valueless, and obscene. Both parties
are partially correct ; for it must be confessed that in many of these
poems the boundary of devotional propriety is wantonly overstepped,
the language of passion too frequently degenerates into the ungo-
vernable ebullitions of lust, and the praises of true chivalry and
honour give place to those of inconstancy and libertinism. These
effusions it is which render so revolting, so monotonous, and so in-

* See Dunlop’s History of Fiction, vol. ii., p. 184; he there says that the
compositions of the Provengals “contain violent satires against the clergy,
absurd didactic poems, moral songs versified from Boethius, and insipid pas-
torals.” Hallam, also, (vol. iii., p. 541, 8vo. edit.) speaking of these bards, -
says, “ These were the celebrated Troubadours whose fame depends far less
on their positive excellence than on the darkness of the preceding ages, on
the temporary sensation they excited, and on their permanent influence on
the state of European poetry.”

VOL. X., NO, XXVIII. — 19

146 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF FRENCH LITERATURE.

sipid, the poetry of the Provengals ; and happy had it been for that
poetry if this portion at least had been lost in the wreck of ages ;
the remaining fragments would, like the sacred leaves of the Sybil,
have increased in value by diminution in number, and Posterity
would gladly have received from Time the gift, two-thirds of which
he had consigned to a well-merited Oblivion.

If, however, we peruse these productions with a more attentive
and less jealous eye, we cannot deny to some few at least the ho-
nourable: meed of a well-deserved praise. Some of their fugitive
pieces are perfect in their kind, and possess a sensibility altogether
intellectual, and a passion as fervent as it is pure. Some of their
most pleasing productions are those where we find the sturdy war-
rior, the knight that mocks at steel and thirsts for danger, sinking
before the eye of beauty into the gentle, tender, and submissive
lover. These productions breathe a strange combination of amorous
and chivalrous feelings; the inborn sympathies of the heart are
seldom extinguished: and from the scenes of slaughter and desola-
‘tion the knight gladly turned to the eye of compassion, and with a
heart untainted with bloodshed chaunts alike the loveliness of his
mistress and the prowess of his arm.

Exquisite, however, as are some of these amatory productions, it
must be confessed that love, as a passion, is too generally miscon-
ceived, and addresses itself rather to the head than to the hearts of
its hearers. The passion which inspired the Troubadour was essen-
tially artificial, and emanated more frequently from the advantages
of present convenience than from any actual passion. . This artificial
tendency arose, in part at least, from the spirit of chivalry itself—a
spirit which, at first sight, would seem to authorise a very oppo-
site conclusion. Chivalry, though it extended the apparent, cur-
tailed the real, influence of love ; for by erecting it into a regular
system, it degenerated from a generous impulse into a frivolous pas-
sion, till at length the knight selected a mistress not from any prin-
ciple of love, not from any glowings of enthusiasm, but as a proper
and indispensable appendage to his knighthood ; an object of devo--
tion, to whom he might dedicate his effusions, and desecrate the
name of love by giving it to the heartless connection. Chivalry
gave scope to many virtues, but it often fostered gigantic vices and
sheltered innumerable crimes; and though we may believe that
the days of its dominion were as we wish them to have been,
though we may fancy that all the ladies were lovely and chaste,
and all the knights gentle and brave, we cannot but know that
thoughts like these are but the day-dreams of the mind, and that

AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF FRENCH LITERATURE. 147

though the splendour of feudal pomp and magnificence may tend to
gloss, they never can hide its real deformity. Wretched in its gene-
ral jurisprudence, it is nowhere seen to greater disadvantage than
in its misconception of love ; the tender passion was laid aside for
heartlessness, or used only for intrigue and grossness and immo-
rality.

Though many, however, of the Troubadours were thus insensible
to the tender passion, it cannot be denied that others, again, were
equally susceptible. Thus, Guillaume de la Tour could not survive
his mistress ;* Guillaume d’Adhemar died for love ; and Pierre Ro-
giers and Richard Barbesieuxt turned hermits. Pierre Vidal, how-
ever, stands deservedly in the first rank for genius, extravagance,
and absurdity.. In harmony of metre and in elegance of expression
this poet far excelled all his contemporaries ; his talents, however,
were alloyed with a most unfortunate propensity to fall in love
with every fair dame whom he saw ; and whom his inordinate va-
nity led him to believe loved him in return. His indiscreet boast-
ing caused one indignant husband to pierce his tongue with a hot
iron. This, however, had no effect in cooling his passion ; for very
shortly afterwards he succeeded in stealing a kiss from Adalasia, the
wife of his patron, Barral de Baux ; for this dire offence the amo-
rous knight was obliged to flee to Geneva, whence he proceeded, as
a crusader, to the Holy Land. Here he again fell in love with a
plebeian Grecian woman, who was palmed upon him by the nobles
as the niece of the Emperor of the East. Overjoyed at his lucky
marriage, he immediately assumed the imperial title, had a throne
erected, and was only deterred from further folly by the exhaustion
of his finances. His enemy Barral being now dead, Vidal returned
to Europe, and, renouncing his attachment to Adalasia, was at-
tracted by the charms of Louve de Genautier. In honour of this
fair lady he suffered himself to be called Loup ; and, by way of still

* Millot, Hist. Lit., &c., tom. i, p. 147.

+ This poet was enamoured of the fair daughter of Geoffroi Rudelle; but
having cause to doubt the fidelity of his mistress, he secluded himself for
the space of two years—

“‘Miels de domna que fugit ai dos ans.”

He then returned to his mistress, but having still cause for dissatisfaction
he resolved to “vivre comme un reclus, comme un ours.” He then went to
Spain, where he secluded himself, and died “ e lai visquet, e lai morti.”—Ray -
nouard, Choix des Poésies, tom. y., p. 433; Hist. Litt. de France, tom. xix,
p: 536.

148 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF FRENCH LITERATURE.

more ostensibly demonstrating his passion, attired himself in a wolf’s
skin, and allowed himself to be hunted by shepherds and dogs in the
mountains of Cabaret. This act of insanity, however, nearly cost
him his life ; for the dogs, having caught him, wounded him so dan-
gerously that he was carried for dead into the house of his beloved
Louve, whose husband (the lord of Cabaret) engaging a physician,
sh ortly effected a cure.*

The fates of Geoffroi Rudel are more tragical and mournful thin
those of Pierre Vidal. In a voyage to the Holy Land he fell vio-
lently in love with the Countess of Tripoli, whom he had never
seen. He addressed several poems to her, and finally, unable any
longer to curb his strange passion, embarked for Africa. During
the passage, however, he fell sick, and arrived at Tripoli in so en-
feebled a state, as not to be able to leave the vessel. In this lamen-
table condition he sent to inform the princess of his situation, and
besought her to give him some token of her regard. Touched with
the recital of his strange passion, the princess personally visited him
on board the vessel where he lay. This unexpected mark of conde.
scension was too great for the already exhausted Geoflroi to support,
and in a frenzy of love and gratitude the warrior poet expired at her
feet. The awful sight so agonized the lovely Countess that she imme-
diately renounced all worldly enjoyments, and, secluding herself in a
¢onvent, devoted herself to an eternal celibacy. The remains of
Geoffroi were buried with the greatest pomp; and a splendid tomb
of porphyry attested to future generations the too fervent passion of
the hapless Troubadour.t =~

The numerous forms of composition, which were either adopted,
or invented in the amatory effusions of the Provengals, are almost in-
credible ; each poet appears to have framed some peculiar mode of
versification by which to denote his passion. To give a list of the
names of all these compositions would afford but little amusement,
we shall therefore restrict ourselves to a few of the more important ;
referring our readers for the other ones, to the valuable collections
of Raynouard. The Albas and Serenast were stanzas sung by
the poets at the break or close of day in honour of their mistresses ;
these compositions among which may be ranked some of their most

* Diez, Geschichte und Werke der Troubadours.

+ Pasquier, Recherches de la France; Millot, Hist. Litt. des Troub., tom.
i, p. 85.

$ Alba in Provengal signifies “day-break;” Serena is derived from Sers,
signifying “evening.”

AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF FRENCH LITERATURE. 149

pleasing productions, bear a strong resemblance to the watch-songs*
of the German Minnesingers. The chansons, sons, sonettes and ron-
dast, were a few of the principal forms in which the poet was
wont to clothe his passion or to record his sufferings. Perhaps,
however, the most pleasing of these poems are the planhs or songs
composed on the death of a mistress ; they are in general extremely
captivating alike from the style in which they are narrated—from
the tenderness and pathos which their occasion naturally calls forth
—from the venerable simplicity of their language—and from the
melancholy beauty of the prolonged metre, which, by embalming
them in melody, gives an air of richness and of beauty to composi-
tions in themselves insipid.

* In the wachterleider as in the albas the poets evince their skill in narra-
tive composition. They commence generally with a parley between the
love-struck knight and the “adie” of his love. The stolen interview is also
generally interrupted by the approach of the sentinel of the castle; who
warns the lovers that morning is approaching, and commands them to sepa-
rate. Perhaps the best of these compositions is the celebrated one by Mar-
cabrun, commencing

“En un vergier, sotz fuelha d’albespi,
Teuc la dompna son amic costa si
Tro la gaya crida que l'alba vi

Oy dicus ! Oy dieus! de l’alba tan tost re.”

The original is given in Raynouard, tom. iii., p. 375, and a German transla-
tion will be found in Diez, p. 168.

+ The ronda (canson redonda) bears a stronger resemblance to the foppe-
ries and Nuge difficiles of the scholastics, than to the extemporaneous pro-
ductions of the Provengals. Its requisites were, that the last line of the first
should rhyme with the first of the second strophe; and the first line of the
first with the last of the second. 'The accompanying list of the rhymes of a
poem of this description, by Giraut Riquier, may suffice as a specimen.

FIRST STROPHE. SECOND STROPHE.
clamans jauzens
estraire eossire
dans valens
comjaire : sospire
chans mens
sabens afans

. contradire aire
vens enans

dezire gaire
jauzens. mans.

This poem has been transcribed by Diez, and published in his Geschichie der
Troubadours, from a manuscript in the Royal Library at Paris, entitled “Cans
on redonda et encadenada de motz e de son.”

150 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH OF FRENCH LITERATURE.

The picture of Provencal love-song presents, as must every other,
a bright and a repulsive side ; the one as much to be cherished and
praised, as is the other to be deprecated. Despite, however, its
licentiousness, and it is great; despite its immoral allusions, and
they are not a few; despite the chilling objections which critics
have delighted to heap upon it, the amatory poetry of the Trouba-
dours presents to the student an inexhaustable fund of instruction
and delight. Emboldened by a common sentiment—urged on by
the same cause—the Troubadours presented an irresistible phalanx
to the further encroachments of barbarism ; and the briefest survey
of the state of society before their advent and after their fall, will
authorize us in hailing their existence, as a brilliant triumph in the
great cause of man. In our joy at the impulse which their senti-
ments of love imparted to mankind, we can overlook the excesses
into which it hurried them ; and we can bear in mind that its evil
influence was soon remedied, but that the good has never ceased.
In a word the passion of the Troubadours, licentious and ungoverned
as it was, first imparted to modern Europe the breath of intellectual
life ; first displayed the harmonizing and irresistible effects of its
cultivation ; and first presented the master key, with which to
unlock the fetters which for more than ten centuries had restrained
the mind. Nor was this all-powerful engine to be resisted ; before
its influence man’s chains were destined to drop off, and he himself
to proceed exulting in the glorious track of honour, and liberty,
and glory, and power. The tide of mental cultivation, once a-
roused, flowed on with rapid and increasing steps; the gentle
stream which had been aroused by the Troubadours, was, by their
successors, transformed into the boiling torrent, which, still dashing
onwards, spurned every obstacle, and hurried the barrier and its
builder to the same destruction, The mind was thus irresistibly
impelled to improvement, and uniting refinement to gallantry,
burst forth, as does the sun from the clouds, which have for a time
obscured him in a dazzling galaxy of brilliancy, excellence, and
power.

CRITES.

(To be continued. )

151

CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

Account of the Voiage and Travaile of Sir John Maundeville,
Knyghie.*

Str Jonn MAUNDEVILLE was one of those chivalrous charac-
ters who overpassed, even in a romantic age, the common bounds of
enterprize in quest of adventure or experience. He manifestly pos-
sessed an extraordinary mental constitution, and its prominent fea-
tures appear on every page of his Itinerary. His spirit was ardent,
credulous, enthusiastic. A concise but interesting notice of his Life,
including remarks on his communications, is prefixed to this valuable
and well-executed Reprint of his “ Voiage and Trayaile” by his edi-
tors. He was born at St. Alban’s about the beginning of the four-
teenth century; and, after completing a liberal education in litera-
ture, languages, philosophy and physic, he set out on his travels from
which he did not return till after the long period of thirty-four years.
Towards the end of his active life, he went to Liege where he died in
the year 1371: he was buried there in the “ Abbie of the Order of
the Guelielmites,” and a monument with a descriptive epitaph was
erected in that church to the memory of our celebrated countryman.

Scholars, collectors and other lovers of ancient Book-lore, owe a
large amount of gratitude to Mr. Lumley, the intelligent and very
spirited Publisher of Sir John Maundeville’s extraordinary produc-
tion. For more than a century the editions of 1725 and 1727 were
the most esteemed of all others in the English language ; but thanks
to modern enterprize here so happily exemplified, the present Reprint
excels its predecessors, in the distinctness of its typography, and in
the number and beauty of its graphic illustrations. We too have
sincere pleasure in acknowledging our extreme obligation to the same
liberal Bibliopolist for the use of those wood-cuts by which the im-
portance of this article is essentially enhanced.

Sir John Maundeville enters on his curious narrative with a
“‘ Prologue,” wherein he enumerates the objects of his various pere-
grinations, and specifies the design for which the history of his “ tra-
vailes” was compiled. In the vernacular language of our ancestors,
in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, he states that

* The Wotage and Crabatle of Sir John Maundeville, Knt. which treat-
eth of the Way to Hierusalem ; and of marvayles of Ynde, with other
Ilands and Countryes: reprinted from the edition of a.p. 1725; with an in-
troduction, additional notes, and a glossary, by J. O. Halliwell, Esq. F.S.A.
¥F.R.A.S. 3 pp. xii, 325, London, 1839: pe by Edward Lumley, 56,
Chancery Lane, with a Frontispiece, title-vignette, and seventy fac-similes
of the ancient wood-cuts.

152 CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

“For als moche as it is longe tyme passed that there was no generalle
Passage ne Vyage over the See; and many Men desiren for to here speke of
the holy Lond, and han thereof gret solace and comfort ; I John Maunde-
vylle, Knyght, alle be it I be not worthi, that was born in Englond, in the
‘Town of Seynt Albones, passed the See, in the Zeer of our Lord Jesu Crist
mcccxXx11, in the Day of Seynt Michelle: and hidre to have ben longe tyme
over the See, and have seyn and gon thorghe manye diverse Londes, and —
many Provynces and Kingdomes and Iles, and have passed thorghe Tarta-
rye, Percye, Ermonye, the litylle and the grete; thorghe Lybye, Caldee,
and a gret partie of Ethiope ; thorghe Amazoyne, Inde the lasse and the
more, a — partie; and thorghe out manye othere Iles that ben abouten
Inde, where dwellen many dyverse Folkes, and of dyverse Maneres and
Lawes, and of dyverse Schappes of Men. Of whiche Londes and Iles, I
schalle speke more playnly hereaftre. And I schalle devise zou sum partie
of thinges that there ben, whan time schalle ben, aftre it may best come to
my minde; and specyally for hem that wylle and are in purpos for to visit
the Holy Citee of Jerusalem and the holy Places that are thereaboute.
And I schalle telle the Weye that thei schulle holden thidre. For I have
often tymes posed and ryden the way, with gode Companye of many Lordes:
God be thonked. And zee schulle undirstonde, that I have put this Boke
out of Latyn into Frensche, and translated it azen out of Frenche into En-
glyssche, that every man of my Nacioun may undirstonde it. But Lordes
and knyghtes and othere noble and worthi Men that conne Latyn but litylle,
and have been bezonde the See, knowen and undirstonden, zif I erre in de-
visynge, for forzetynge, or elles; that thei mowe redresse it and amende it.
For things passed out of longe tyme from a Mannes mynde or from his
syght, turnen sone into forzetynge: Because that Mynde of Man ne may
not ben comprehended ne witheholden, for the Freeltee of Mankynde.”

With the enthusiasm and devotion of an unsophisticated papist, Sir
John proceeds to “teche zou the Weye out of Englond to Costanti-
noble,” and his itinerary is sufficiently precise, if not entertaining ; it
finishes with an account of the “Ymage of Justynyan the Empe-
rour,” accompanied with a lively graphic illustration. The travel-
ler’s next theme is “ the Crosse and the Croune of oure Lord Jesu
Crist, and his Cote withouten Semes, and the Spounge, and the Reed,
of the which the Jewes zaven our Lord Eyselle and Galle ;” and, on
each of these venerable articles, he discourses with pathetic and cir-
cumstantial eloquence. His description of ‘the Cytee of Costanty-
noble and of the Feithe of the Grekis,” evinces the closeness of his
observation, and the extent of his acquaintance with the practices of
the Greek church. He allows that ‘“ Men of Grece ben Cristene,
zit they varien from oure Feithe;” and for this distinction, he ad-
duces very copious and abundantly cogent reasons. For, he says,

“'Thei are not obedyent to the Chirche of Rome, ne to the Pope. And
thei seyn that here Patriark hath as meche Power over the See as the Pope
hathe on this syde the See. And therfore Pope Johne the 22nd sende Let-
tres to hem, how Cristene Feithe scholde ben alle on; and that thei scholde
ben obedyent to the Pope that is Goddis Vacrie on Erthe, to whom God
zaf his pleyn Power for to bynde and to assoill. And thei senten azen
dyverse Answeres; and amonges othere, thei seyden thus—‘ We trowe wel
that thi Power is gret upon the Subgettes. We mai not suffre thin highe Pryde.
We ben not in purpos to fulfille thi great Covetyse. Lord be with The; For oure
Lord is with us, Fare Welle.’”

CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. 153

Sir John concludes this chapter of his pilgrimage, with a sight of
the Geeek “ A B C, what Lettres thei ben, with the names that thei
clepen them ;” and he observes apologetically for his details, “alle be
it that theise touchen not to o way, nevertheless thei’ touchen to that
that I have hight zou, to schewe zou a partie of Custumes and Ma-
neres, and dyversitees of Contrees. For many Men have gret lyk-
yne to here speke of straunge thinges of dyverse contreyes.”

Our communicative journeyer enlivens “the Weye fro Costantyno-
ble to Jerusalem’’ with a view of the “ Tombe of Seynt John, in the
whiche is noughte but Manna that is clept Aungeles Mete,” and the
the episode of “the Doughtre of Ypocras,” with a due portion of to-
pographical speculation. We transcribe this episode for the gratifi-
cation of our kind friends, who promise a reasonable share of ad-
vantage to the Anaxtyst, from the occasional introduction of an
essay in “ Light Reading :” and here it follows.

From Crete “passen Men thorghe the Ile of Colos, of the whiche Iles
Ypocras was Lord offe. And some Men seyn that in this Ile is zit the
Doughtre of Ypocras in forme and lykenesse of a gret Dragoun that is an
ae ae Fadme of lengthe,as Men seyn, for I have not seen hire. And
thei of the Iles callen bite the Lady of the Lond. And sche lyethe in an
old Castelle in a Cave, and scheweth twyes or thryes in the Zeer. And
sche dothe non harm to no Man, but zif Men don hire harm. And sche was
thus chaunged and transformed from a fair Damysele into lykenesse of a
Dragoun be a goddesse that was clept Deane. And Men seyn that sche
schalle so endure in that forme of a Dragoun unto the tyme that a knyghte
come that is so hardy that dar come to hire and kisse hire on the Mouthe:
And then schalle sche turne azen to hire owne Kynde, and ben a Woman
azen; But aftre that sche schalle not liven longe. And it is not longe sith
then that a peneee of the Rodes that was hardy and doughty in Armes,
seyde that he wolde kyssen hire. And whan he was upon his Coursere, and
wente to the Castelle, and entred in to the Cave, the Dragoun lifte up hire
Hed azenst him. And whan the knyghte saw hire in that forme so hidous
and so horrible, he fleyghe awey. And the Dragoun bare tho knyghte upon
a Roche, mawgre his Hede: and from that Roche sche caste him in to the
See; and so was lost bothe Hors and Man. And also a zonge Man, that
wiste not of the Dragoun,; wente out of a Schipp, and wente thorghe the. Ile
till that he come to the Castelle and cam into the Cave, and wente so longe
til that he fond a Chambre, and there he saughe a Damysele that kembed
hire Hede and lokede in a Myrour; and sche hadde meche Tresoure abouten
hire: and he trowed that sche hadde ben a comoun Woman that dwelled
there to resceyve Men to Folye. And he abode till the Damysele saughe
the Schadewe of him in the Myrour. And sche turned hire toward him, and .
asked him what he wolde. And he seyde, he wolde ben hire Limman or Pa-
ramour. And sche asked him zif that he were a knyghte. And he seyde
nay. And then sche seyde that he myghte not ben hire Lemman. But
sche bad him gon azen unto his Felowes and make him knyghte, and come
azen on the Morwe, and sche scholde come out of the Cave before him, and
thanne come and kysse hire on the Mowthe, and have no Drede; for I schalle
do the no maner harm, alle be it that thou see me in Lykenesse of a Dra-
goun, ‘For thoughe thou see me hidouse and horrible to loken onne, I do the
to wytene that it is made be enchantment, For withouten doute I am non
other than that thou seest now, a Woman; and therfore drede the noughte.

_ And zif thou kysse me, thou schalt have alle this Tresoure and be my Lord,
and Lord also of alle that Ile. And he departed fro hire and wente to his
VOL,. X., NO, XXVIII. 20

154 CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

Felowes, and cam azen upon the Morwe for to kisse this Damysele. And
whan he saughe hire comen out of the Cave, in forme of a Dragoun, so hi-

douse and so horrible, he hadde so gret drede that he fleyghe azen to the
schippe; and sche folewed him. And whan sche saughe that he turned not
azen, sche began to crye asa thing that hadde meche Sorwe: and thanne sche
turned azen in to hire Cave; and anon the knyghte dyede. And sith then
hidrewards myghte no knyghte se hire but that he dyede anon. But whan
a knyghte comethe that is so hardy to kisse hire, he schalle not dye, but he
schalle turne the Damysele in to hire righte Forme and kyndely Schapp, and
he schalle be Lord of alle the Contreyes and Iles aboveseyd.”

Pilgrims journeying to Jerusalem would find a useful “ guide-book”
in the Knyghte’s Voiage to the Londe bezond the See, for he care-
fully directs “ Men,” by miles and land-marks and marvels, how to
visit and view the “cytees of Rodes, Cipre, Thire, Sarphen, Sydon,
Akoun, Gaza, Cesaire, Ascolonge, Jaffe,” and thence to the holy
city. For the generous purpose of creating amusement by the way,
he describes a “ Fosse, the which is 100 Cubytes of largenesse, and
alle fulle of Gravelle schynynge brighte, of the whiche men maken
fair Verres and clere: and men comen fro fer for to fetten of that
Gravelle ; and thoughe there be nevere so moche taken awey there
of on the day at Morwe it is as fulle azen as evere it was. There is
everemore gret Wynd in that Fosse that stereth everemore the Gra-
velle, and makethe it trouble: and zif ony Man do thereinne ony
maner Metalle it turneth anon to Glasse; and the Glasse that is
made of that Gravelle, zif it be don azen in to the Grayelle, it turn-

, ethe anon in to Grayelle as it was first, and therfore somme Men seyn

CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. 155

that it is a sweloghe of the gravely See.” Now truly, as Sir John
says, this “is a gret mervaille,” and may have proved ev good induce-
ment with our generous Bibliopole to represent the process in a bold
graphic illustration. This is accompanied by another in which
Sampson appears exerting his strength to make a great halle falle
upon the Philistienes the whiche had put out his Eyen, and schaven
his Hed, enprisound him be Tresoun of Dalida his paramour.

Our “ Travyailere’s” account of Cyprus would be duly appreciated
in the days of his pilgrimage. He delineates the geography and ec-
clesiastical institutions of this island, without omitting notes on “ Dis-
mas the gode Theef,’ and on some of the earlier “ seynts” who, it
seems, were either born or buried in this happy country. They of
this “Londe” have a rather singular domestic custom: at meals,
“they had lever sythen in the erthe than setten formes and tables.”
We are informed that here it is the manere of Lordis and alle othere
men to eten on the erthe; for they make dyches in the erthe alle
aboute in the halle depe to the knee and thei do pave hem, and whan
thei wil ete thei gou there in and sytten here; and the skylle is, for
thei may ben the more fressche, for that londe is meche more hotter
_ than it is here.” Field-sports, in Sir John’s time, were not neglected
by the Cyprian squires: for they, he relates, hunten with Papyonns .
that ben lyche Lepardes, and they taken wylde bestes righte welle,
and thei ben somdelle more than Lyouns, and thei taken more
scharpely the bestes and more delyverly than don Houndes. While
the fancier of word-lore may be exercising his ingenuity on the Pa-
pyann, we submit a figure of this clever animal to the attention of
practical zoologists.

156 CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.’

In his introduction to the “ Voiage,” the editor justly estimates the
suggestion ‘that Maundeville may never have gone to the east at
all, but compiled his book out of previous journals’”—a suggestion
alike flimsy and unjustifiable. It is refuted by the knightly journal-
ist’s own declaration. At page 35 we find him stating explicitly that

“ At Babyloyne, there dwelleth the Soudan in his Calahelyke, in a fair Cas-
telle strong and gret and wel sett upon a Roche. In that Castelle duellen,
alle wey to kepe it and to serve the Sowdan, mo than 6000 persones that
taken alle here Necessaries of the Sowdanes Court. J oughte righte wel to
knowen it, for I duelled with him as Soudyour in his Werres a gret while azen the
Bedoynes. And he wolde have maryed me full highely to a gret Princes
Daughtre zif I wolde han forsaken my Lawe and my Beleve. But I thank
God I had no will to don it for no thing that he behighten me.”

Again, in noticing him the whiche leet sle his brother previlyfor
to have the Lordschipe, and made him to ben clept Melechmadabron,
Sir John says, at p. 39, “and he was Soudan what I departed fro
the Contrees.” Several other places of our pilgrim’s “ Travaile” (as
pp- 4, 130, 1387, 167, 169, 180-1, 190, 219, 220-1, 235, 264, and
314—15-16) retain distinct evidences of his actually having visited the
far distant east, and ben dwellyng amonges many a dyverse folk of.
dyverse secte and beleeve, and of his having made his Tretys aftre
information of men that knewen of thinges that he hadde not seen
himself, and also of marveyles and customes that he hadde seen him-
self as fer as God wolde zeve him grace. His good faith is manifest
in this passage. After having tgld yow som of the Wayes, by the
Londe and eke by Water, how that Men mowen goon unto Jerusa-
lem, he adds a description of another waye, alle by Londe un to Jeru-
salem and passe nodn See from Fraunce or Flaundres, comprizing an
account of Batho, the foulest Contree and the most cursed and the
poorest that men knowen. At page 180, he remarks, distinctly and
candidly, “I have not ben in that Contree ne be tho Weyes, but I have
ben at other Londes that marchen to tho Contrees, and in the Lond
of Russye and in the Lond of Nyflan and in the Reme of Crako and
of Letto and in the Reme of Daresten and in manye other places that
marchen to the Costes; but_I wente never by that weye to Jerusa-
lem ; wherfore I may not wel telle zou the manere.” In fine, after
depicting the wealth and splendour of the “ Grete Chane of Chatay,”
our spirited topographer proceeds to say, at page 220,

*‘ And zee schulle undirstonde that my Felowes and I, with oure Zomen,
we serveden this Emperour and weren his Soudyoures, 15 monethes, azenst
the kyng of Mancy, that held Werre azenst him. And the cause was, for we
hadden gret lust to see his Noblesse and the Estat of his Court, and alle his
Governance to wite zif it were suche, as wee herde seye that it was. And
treuly we fond it more noble and more excellent and ricchere and more mar-
veyllous than ever we herde speke offe, in so moche that we wolde never
han leved it, had wee not seen it. For I trowe that no Man wolde beleve
the noblesse, the ricchesse, ne the multytude of folk that ben in his Court,
but he had seen it. For it is not there as it is here; for the Lordes here han

CRITICAL NOTICES OF ‘NEW > PUBLICATIONS: 157

folk of certain nombre als they may suffise, but the gret Chane hath every
day folke at his Costages and Expenses as withouten nombre. But the Or-
dynance, ne the expenses in mete and drynk, ne the honestee ne the clen-
nesse, is not so arrayed there as it is here ; for alle the Comouns there eten
withouten Clothe upon here knees, and thei eten alle maner of Flessche and
litylle of Bred. And after Mete thei wypen here Hondes upon here
Skyrtes, and thei eten not but onesa day. But the Estat of Lordes is fulle
et and riche and noble. And alle be it that sum men wil net trow me, but
olden it for Fable to tell him the Noblesse of his persone and of his Estate
and of his Court, and of the gret multytude of folk that he holt, natheless I
schalle seye zou a partye of him and of his folk, aftre that I have seen, the
manere and the ordynance, fulle many a tyme. And whoso that wol may
leve me zif he wille; and whoso wille not may chuse; for I wot wel zif ony
man hathe ben in tho _Contrees bezoride, thoughe he have not ben in the
place where the grete Chane duellythe, he schalle here speak of him so
meche merveylouse thing that he schalle not trowe it lightly : and treuly no
more did I my self til I saughe it. And those that han ben in tho Contrees,
and in the great. Chane’s Houshold, knowen wel that I seye sothe.”

Now, in these extracts and references, there is full and fair reason
for concluding that “ Sir John Maundeville’s Voiage and Travaile”
was a true pilgrimage, and that ‘“‘ he departed from oure contrees and
passed the See, the Zeer of Grace 1322, and passed manye Londes
and manye Yles and Contrees, and cerched manye fulle straunge
places, and have ben in manye a fulle gode honourable Companye,
and at many a faire Dede of Armes.”

In the section where Sir John treats of many Soudans and of the
“ Tour of Babiloyn,” he inserts a diversity of historical sketches, and
adorns them with the pageantry of monkish or legendary inventions
and disfigured notes of events recorded in the sacred writings’ Here
follows a saintly tale, with a lively representation.

“The Mount of Synay is clept the Desert of Syne, that is to seyne, the
Bussche brennynge. There is an Abbeye of Monkes, wel bylded and wel
closed with Zates of Iren, for drede of the wylde Bestes. And the Monkes

WWMM SS

158 CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

ben Arabyenes or Men of Greece: and alle thei ben as Herrenytes; and

thei drynken no NS fe but zif it be on principalle Festcs; and thei ben fulle

devoute Men, and lyven porely and sympely with Joutes and Dates; and

they don gret Abstynence and Penaunce. There is the Chirche of Seynte

Kateryne, in the whiche ben manye Lampes brennynge. For thei han of
Oyle of Olyves y now, bothe for to brenne in here lamps and to ete also.

And that plentee have thei be the Myracle of God. For the Ravenes and the

Crowes and the Choughes and othere Foules of the Contree assemble hem

there every Zeer ones, and fleen thidere as in pilgrimage; and everyche of
hem bryngethe a Braunche of the Bayes or of Olyve in here Bekes in

stede of Offryng and leven hem there; of the whyche the Monkes maken

gret plentee of Oyle, and this is a gret Marvaylle. And sithe that Foules

that have no kyndely Wytt ne Resoun gon thidre to seche that gloriouse

Virgyne, wel more oughten Men than to seche hire and to worschipen hire.

Also behynde the Awtier of that Chirche is the place where Moyses saughe

oure Lord God in a brennynge Bussche; and whanne the Monkes entren '
into that place thei don of bothe Hosen and Schoon or Botes alweys, be-

cause that oure Lord seyde to Moyses, Do of thin Hosen and thi Schoon, for

the place that thou stondest on is Lond holy and blessed-?

Having descanted largely on the merveylles and maneres of Pales-
tine, Syria, and the adjacent countries—as the deserte betwene the
chirche of Seynt Kateryne and Jerusalem, the dri Tre and how roses
came first in the worlde ; the pilgrimages in Jerusalem and the holy
places thereaboute ; the temple of oure Lord, the crueltee of Heroud,
the Mount Syon, the Probatica Piscina, and the Natatorium Siloe;
the dede See and the flom Jordan ; the hed of Seynt John and the
usages of the Samaritanes ; the province of Galilee, and where anti-
christ schalle be borne; the cytee of Nazarethe, the age of our La-
die, the day of doom, and the customes of the Jacobites, Surryenes,
and Georgyenes ; the cytee of Damasce and the thre weyes to Jeru-
salem—Sir John endeavours to depict the usages of the Sarasines ;
tells how the Soudan arresond the auctor of this book; and then re-
lates the “‘begynnynge of Machomete, who was first. a pore knave
that kept cameles, and wenten with marchantes for merchandize.”
The “ Londes of Albanye and Libye” are next brought under obser-
vation, and the topographer diversifies his picture with a tale of the
*‘ Wisshinges for Wacchinge of the Sperhauk,” and a tradition re-
specting “‘ Noes Schippe,” as an element in the system of popish mys-
tification. Thus, you are told that

“ Fro the cytee of Artyzoun go men to an hille that is clept Sabissocolle,
and there besyde is another hille that men clepen Ararat, but the Jews cle-
pen it Taneez, where Noes Schippe rested and zit is upon that montayne, and
men may seen it aferr in cleer wedre. And that montayne is wel a 7 myle
highe. And sum men seyn that thei have seen and touched the Schippe,
and put here fyngres in the parties where the feend went out, when that Noe
seyde Benedicite. But thei, that seyne such wordes, seyn here wille, for a
man may not gon up the montayne for gret plentee of snow that is alle weyes
on that montayne, nouther somer ne wynter; so that no man may gon up
there, ne nevere man dide sithe the tyme of Noe, saf a monk that, by tho
grace of God, brought on of the plankes down, that zit is in the Mynstre at
the foote of the montayne. Upon that montayne to gon up, this monk had
gret desir; and so upon a day he wente up, and whan he was upward the 3

CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. 159

age of the montayne he was so wery that he might go no furthere; and so
e rested him and felle o slepe; and whan he awook he founde him self lig-
gynge at the foot of the montayne. And than he preyede devoutlye to God
that he wolde vouche safe to suffre him gon up. And an Angelle cam to him
and seyde that he scholde gon up, and so he dide. And sithe that tyme ne-
vere non; wherfore men scholde not beleeve suche woordes.”* ,

With his chorography of the “‘ Londe of Job” and the “ Yle of A-
mazoyne,” our communicative wanderer furnishes his readers with a
note on Manna, and a disquisition on the verray Dyamant, its know-
leche and vertues. He eulogizes the Lond of Job as a fulle fair con-
tree and a plentyous of alle godes. In that Lond, he says, “there
ys no defaute of no thing that is nedefulle to mannes body. There
ben hilles where men geten gret plentee of Manna, in gretter habun-
dance than in ony other contree. This Manna is clept Bred of Aun-
geles, and it is a white thing that is full swete and righte delicyous,
and more swete than hony or sugre ; and it comethe of the dew of
heaven that fallethe upon the herbes in that countree, and it conge-
lethe and becomethe all white and swete ; and thei putten it in Medi-
cynes for riche men to purge evylle blode, for it puttethe out malen-
colye.” With his “loose notes” on Ethiopia, he introduces Pliny’s
fable of the Monoscelli or sciopods, “the whiche ben folk that han
but o foot, and thei gon so fast that it is marvaylle; and the foot is

_* An improved version of this legendary adventure has a place in Char-
din’s Travels—Voyayes en Perse et autres lieux del’ Orient ; Ato, four volumes,
Amsterdam, 1735.

160 CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

so large that it schadewethe alle the bodye -azen the sonne whanne
thei wole lye and reste them :” and here is a joyous gentleman repos-
ing in that comfortable position.

Following our guide on his eastward “ travaile,” we find him de-
scribing the customes of the Yles abouten Ynde, the difference be-
twixt Ydoles and Symulacres, the 3 maner growing of Peper ono
tree, and the Welle that chaungethe his odour every hour of the day.

“ Symulacres,” he affirms, “ ben ymages made aftre lykenesse of men or
women, or of the sonne or of the mone, or of ony best, or of ony kyndely
thing; and Ydoles is an ymage made of lewed wille of man, that man may
not fiynden among kyndely things, as an ymage that hathe 4 heds, on of a
man, another of an hors, or of an ox, or of some other best that no man hathe
seyn aftre kyndely disposicioun.” Regarding the vegetation and culture of
Pepper, “zee schulle undirstonde that the peper growethe in maner as dothe a
wylde Vyne that is planted fast by the trees of that wode for to susteynen
it by. And the fruyt thereof hangethe in manere as reysynges, and the tre
is so thikke charged that it semethe-that it wolde breke; and whan it is ripe
it is alle grene as it were Ivy Beryes; and than men kytten hem as men don
the vynes, and than thei putten it upon an ovven, and there it waxethe blak
and crisp... And there is 3 maner of peper alle upon o tre; long peper, blak-
peper, and white peper. The long peper men clepen Sorbotyn, and the blak
peper is clept, Fulfulle, and the white peper is clept Bano. The long peper
comethe first, whan the lef begynnethe to come, and it is lyche the chattes of
haselle that comethe before the lef, and it. hangethe lowe. And. aftre co-
methe the blak with the lef in manere of clusteres of resynges alle grene;
and whan men han gadred it than comethe the white that is somdelle lasse’
than the blak; and of that, men bryngen but litille in to this contree.”

Like the “ Holy Wells” of the West, our traveller’s ‘“‘ Welle of
Zouthe” was marvellously salubrious. He thus defines its virtues :

‘‘ Near the cytee of Polombe is. a grete montayne, and at the foot of that
mount is a fayr Welle and a gret, that hatke odour and savour of alle spices.
And at every hour of the day, he chaungethe his odour and his savour dy-
versely; and whoso drynkethe 3 tymes fasting of that watre of that Welle
he is hool of alle maner sykenesse that he hathe. And thei that duellen
there and drynken often of that Welle, thei nevere han sykenesse and thei
semen alle weys zonge. J have dronken there of 3 or 4 sithes, and zit me-
thinkethe I fare the better. Sum men clepen it the Welle of Zouthe, for thei
that often drynken there of semen alle be zongly and leven with outen
= hp ages And men seyn that that Wclle comethe out of Paradys, and
therfore it is so vertuous.”

Sir John next enters on an interesting account of the Domes made
be Seynt Thomas in the cytee of Calamye, of the Devocyoun and
Sacrifice made to Ydoles there, and of the Procession of the Ydole’s
Chare aboute the cytee: then he describes the evylle customes used
in the Yle of Lamary: and then he engages in an astronomical dis-
quisition to prove how the Erthe and the See ben of round forme and
schapp, be pref of the sterre that is clept Antartyhk, that is fix in the
southe. oe

Passing with our conductor into the Yle of Java, we accompany
him over the Palays of the kyng of that gret contree, the whiche is

CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. 161

nyghe 2000 myle in cireuyt. With something of the bearing of a
botanist, he speaks of the trees that beren mele, hony, wyn, and ve-
nym, and of othere mervayilles and customes used in the yles march-
inge thereabouten. This yle, he tells you, is fulle wel inhabyted :
there growen alle maner of spicerie, more plentyfous liche than in
ony other contree; as of gyngevere, clowegylofres, canelle, zede-
walle, notemuges, and maces. And wytethe wel that the notemuge
berethe the maces ; for righte as the note of the haselle hathe an
husk with outen, that the note is closed intil it be ripe and aftre fall-
ethe out, righte so it is of the notemuge and of the maces. Manye
other spices and manye other godes growen in that yle. As Pliny
the naturalist had done before him, Sir John avouches the existence
of certain extraordinary lacustrine canes found in this island, and he
concludes his summary of their uses, with the asseveration—and deme
no man that I seye it but for a truffule, for I have seen of the cannes,
with myn owne eyzen fulle manye times, lyggynge upon the ryvere of
that lake, of the whiche 20 of oure felowes ne myghten not liften up ne
beren on to the erthe. Among the yles in the See Occean, he con-
tinues, there is.a gret yle and good and fayr, and men clepen it Na-
cumera, and it is in kompass aboute more than a 1000 myle. And
alle the men and women han Houndes Hedes, and thei ben clept Cy-
nocephali, and thei ben fulle resonable and of gode undirstondynge,
saf that thei worschipen an Ox for here god. And also everyche of
hem berethe an ox of gold or of sylver in his forhed, in token that
thei loven wel here god. And thei gon alle naked saf a lityelle clout
that thei coveren with here knees and hire members. Thei ben grete
folke and wel fyghtynge, and thei han a gret targe that coverethe
alle the bodye, and a spere in here hond to fighte with. And zif thei
taken ony man in bataylle, anon thei eten him. Here stands the cy-

ont
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VOL. X., NO. XXVIII. 21

162 CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

nocephalous portraiture, exhibiting a marked resemblance to Anubis,
with symbols of the Egyptian mythology.

Marvels and satyres, cyclopes and hermaphrodites, panotes and hip-
popodes, monkes and babewynes, dwerghes and geauntes, with folk of
dyverse schap and merveylously disfigured, are main topics in the
nineteenth chapter of our knyghte’s lucubrations. He depicts the
*‘ Lond of Pigmaus” with much vivacity.

“There,” he says, “the folk ben of lityelle stature that ben but 3 span
long, and thei ben ryghte faire and gentylle aftre here quantytees, both the
men and the women. And thei maryen hem whan thei ben half zere of age
and geten children; and thei lyven not but 6 zeer or 7 at the moste. And
he that lyvethe 8 zeer, men holden him there ryghte passynge old. 'Theise
men ben the beste worcheres of gold, sylver, cotoun, sylk, and of alle suche
thinges, of ony other, that be in the world. And they han often times werre

with the briddes of the contree that thei taken andeten. This litylle folk
nouther labouren in londes ne in vynes; but thei han grete men amonges
hem, of oure stature, that tylen the lond and labouren amonges the vynes
for hem; and of tho men of our stature have thei als grete skorne and won-
dre as we wolde have amonges us of geauntes, zif thei weren amonges us.
There is a gode cytee amonges othere where is duellynge gret plentee of tho
lityelle folk; and it isa gret cytee and a faire, and the men ben grete that-
duellen amonges hem ; but whan thei geten ony children thei ben als litylle
as the pygmeyes, and therfore thei ben alle, for the most. part, alle pigmeyes,
for the nature of the lond is suche. And alle be it that the pigmeyes ben
litylle, zit thei ben fulle resonable aftre here age, and connen bothen wytt
and gode and malice y now.”

t

CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. 163

The great “ Chane of Chatay” obtains a full share of our knyghte’s
attention, and the journalist appears to speak, in part at least, from
personal observation. He relates, in ample detail, the circumstances
of this prince’s court and kingdom, beginning with the rialtee of the
Chane’s palays, how he sits at Mete, and the grete number of officers
that serve him. We are then entrusted with a knowledge of the rea-
sons wherefore this mighty monarch is denominated, or clept, the
Grete Chane; with the style of his letters and the superscriptions on
his seals ; with the governance of his court whan he maketh solemn
feasts, four times in the year ; and with an account of his array when
he rideth through the country. We cannot fail of admiring the mag-
nificence of his domestic economy, as displayed in Sir John’s pro-
gramme of an imperial entertainment. In addition to the nobles and
other high personages usually admitted to the enjoymennt of royal
hospitality, we are informed, with a pleasing seriousness, that

“ At o syde of the Emperour’s table, sitten manye Philosofres that ben
preved for wise men, in manye dyverse scyences; as of astronomye, nigro-
mancye, geomancye, pyromancye, ydromancye, and augurye. And everyche
of hem han before hem astrolabres of gold, sum speres, sum the brayn-panne
of a ded man, sum vesselles of gold fulle of gravele or sond, sum vesselles of
gold fulle of coles brennynge, sum vesselles of gold fulle of watre and of wyn
and of oyle, and sum oriloges of gold mad ful nobely and richly wroughte,
and manye othere maner of instruments after hire scyences. And at certyn
houres whan hem thinkethe tyme thei seyn to certeyn officeres that stonden
before hem, ordeynd for the tyme to fuifille hire cO6maundements, Makethe
Pees; and than seyn the officeres, now Pees lystenethe. And aftre that, seyth
another of the philosofres, everyche man do reverence and enclyne to the Empe-
rour that is Goddes sone and soverayn lord of alle the world, for now is tyme; and
thanne everyche man bowethe his hed toward the erthe. And thanne cé-
maundethe the same philosophre azen, Stondethe up; and thei don so. And
at another houre savttie another philosophre, Putte the zouwre litylle fynger in
zoure eres; and anon thei don so. And at another houre, seythe anothre phi-
losophre, Puttethe zouwre honde before zoure mouthe ; and anon thei don so. And
at another houre, seythe another philosophre, Puttethe zowre honde upon zoure
hed. And aftre that, he byddethe hem to done here honde a wey; and thei
don so. And so from houre to houre thei cOmaunden certeyn thinges ; and
thei seyn that tho thinges han dyverse significaciouns. And I asked hem pre-
vyly what tho thinges betokened; and on of the maistres told me that the
bowynge of the hed at that houre betokened this, that alle tho that boweden
here hedes sholden evere more aftre ben obeyssant and true to the Empe-
rour, and nevere for ziftes ne for promys in no kynde ben fals ne traytour
unto him for gode ne evylle. And the puttynge of the lityelle fynger in
the ere betokenethe that none of hem ne schalle not here, speke no contrari-
ous thing to the Emperour, but that he schalle telle it anon to his conseille
or discovere it to sum men that wille make relacioun to the Emperour,
though he were his fadre or brother or sone. And so forthe of alle othere
thinges that is. don be the philosophres, thei tolde the causes of manye dy-
verse thinges; and trustethe righte wel in certeyn that no man dothe no
thing to the Emperoure that belongethe unto him, nouther clothinge, ne bred,
ne wyn, ne bathe, ne non othere thinge that longethe to him, but at cer-
teyn houres that his philosophres wille devysen. And zif there falle werre in
ony side to the Emperour, anon the philosophres comen and seyn here avys
aftre here calculaciouns, and conseylen the Emperour of here avys be here
scyences ; so that the Emperour dothe no thing with outen here conseille.”

164 CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS,

The ‘* Grete Chane” also keeps his “ Jogulours and Enchaunt-
oures,” and dancing damsels, and keepers of wild beasts, and “ knyghtes
to jousten in armes fulle lustyly, and thei rennen to gidere fulle
fiercely, and thei breken here speres so rudely that the troncheons
flew in sprotes and peces alle aboute the halle.” He has likewise of

“ Mynstralles the nombre of 13 cumancz; and he hathe of certeyn men,
as though thei were zomen, that kepen bryddes, as ostryches, gerfacouns,
sparehaukes, faukons, gentyls, lanyeres, sacres, sacrettes, papyngayes wel spe-
kynge, and bryddes syngynge; and also of wylde bestes as of olifauntz, ba-
bewynes, apes, marmesettes, and othere dyverse bestes; the mountance of
15 cumancz of zomen. And of physicyens cristene he hathe 200, and of
leches that ben cristene he hathe 210, and of leches and physicyens that ben
Sarrazines 20. This Emperour may dispenden als eR as he wille with
outen estymacioun, for he dispendethe not ne makethe no moneye but of le-
ther emprented or of papyre; and of that moneye is som of gretten prys
and som of lasse prys, aftre the dyversitee of his statutes; and whan that
moneye hathe ronne so longe that it begynnethe to waste, than men beren it
to the Emperoure’s tresorye, and than thei taken newe moneye for the olde ;
and that moneye gothe thorghe out alle the contree and alle his provynces ;
and therefore he may dispende y now and outrageously.”

Our “ Voiagere” next discourses upon the “ Lawe and Customes
of the Tartariennes duellynge in Chatay ;” and, in this portion of his
Boke he communicates many interesting particulars concerning this
extraordinary people, and these certainly deserve the attention of stu-
dents desirous of procuring an acquaintance with the elements of ori-
ental history. The following subjects are treated more rapidly, but

PN
oy
Yast
mi ANN

CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. 165

they give sketches of men and manners which modern travellers have
confirmed. Here, he treats of the Roialme of Tharse and the londes
and kyngdomes towardes the septentrionale partes, in comynge down
from the land of Cathay : of the Emperour of Persye and of the lond
of derknesse, and of othere kyngdomes that belongen to the Grete
Chane of Cathay, and other londes of his unto the See of Grece: and
of the contrees and yles that ben bezonde the Lond of Cathay, of the
Frutes there, and of 22 kynges enclosed within the montaynes. To
the admirers of vegetable marvayles, Sir John’s remarks on the
Frutes of these contrees may afford edification.

“Wherefore I seye zou,” he observes, “that, in passynge be the Lond of
Cathay toward the highe Ynde and toward Bacharye, men passen be a
kyngdome that men clepen Caldilhe, that is a fulle fair contree. And there
growethe a maner of fruyt as thoughe it weren gowrdes, and whan thei ben
rype men kutten hem a to, and men fynden with inne a lytylle best, in

essche in bén and blode, as thoughe it were a lytylle lomb with outen
wolle. And men eten both the frute and the best, and that is a grete mar-
veyle: of that fruyt I have eten, alle thoughe it were wonderfulle, but that
I know wel that. God is marveylous in his werkes.”

Prester John’s country and his royal estate are painted in fair co-
lours ; and, somewhat in the foreground, stands an account of a riche
man that made a marveyllous castelle and cleped it Paradys. In this
dread sovereign’s dominions is the “ Gravely See,” and

“‘ A 3 iourneys long fro that see, ben gret montaynes, out of the whiche
gothe out a gret flome that comethe out of paradys, and it rennethe thorghe
the desert on that o syde, so that it uabithe the see gravely. And in that
desert ben manye wylde men that been hidouse to loken on, for thei ben

“gke

NN
\

166 CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUALICATIONS.

horned, and thei speken nought; but thei gronten as pigges. And there is
also gret plentee of wylde houndes; and there ben manye popegayes that
they clepen psitakes in hire langage, and thei speken of hire propre nature,
and salven men, that gon thorghe the desertes, and speken to hem als ap-
pertely as thoughe it were a man. And thei that sfebeh wel han a large
tonge and han 5 toos upon a fote: and there ben also of othere manere that
han but three toos, and thei speken not, or but lytylle, for thei con not but
cryen.’ :

In conferring farther on the “ Lordscipe of Prestre John,” our
kind instructor favours us with a picture of the “ Develes Hed in the
Valeye Perilouse in mydde place of the whiche, under a roche, is an
hede and the visage of a devyl bodyliche, and he beholdethe everysche
_man so scharply with dreadfulle eyen that ben evere more mevynge
and sparklynge as fuyr, with so horrible countenance, that no man
dar not neighen him; and fro him comethe out smoke and stink and
fuyr, and so moche abhomynacioun that unethe no man may there
endure.” Journeying from the isles of the Lordschipe, of whiche the
moral and natural history are briefly sketched, we arrive at the “ Yle
of Bragman,” and are delighted at finding it gret, gode and plenty-
fous, where ben gode folk and trewe, and of gode lyvynge aftre hire
beleve, and of gode feythe. A neighbouring island is clepen Gno-
sophe, and its inhabitants are gode folk and fulle of gode feythe ; but
thei gon alle naked. Their wisdom is exemplified in a dialogue be-
tween Alexander the Great and the men of that contree. In the fol-
lowing section, we read of the “hilles of gold that Pissemyres kepen,”
and of the four Flomes that issue from the terrestrial paradise. ‘These
golden hills, “as men seyn,” are inthe Yle of Taprobane, and there,
in Sir John’s diction,

“Ben grete hilles of gold that Pissemyres keepen fulle diligently : and
thei frymen the pured on and casten away the unpured. And theise Pis-
simyres ben grete as houndes, so that no man may get of that gold but be
hay sleighte; and therfore whan it is grete hete the Pissemyres resten

em in the erthe from pryme of the day in to noon, and than the folk of the
contree taken camayles, dromedaries and hors, and othere bestes, and gon
thidre and ee hem in alle haste that thei may ; and aftre that thei
fleen awey in alle haste that the bestes may go, or the Pissemyres comen
out of the erthe; and in other tymes whan it is not so hote, and that the
Pissemyres ne resten hem not in the erthe, than thei geten gold be this so-
tyltee; thei taken mares that han zonge coltes or foles and leyn upon the
mares voyde vesselles made therfore, and thei ben alle open aboven and
hangynge lowe to the erthe, and thanne thei sende forth the mares for to
pasturen aboute tho hilles, and with holden the foles with hem at home.
And whan the pissemyres sen tho vesselles thei lepen in anon, and thei han
this kynde that thei lete no thinge ben empty among hem, but anon thei
fillen it, be it what maner of thinge that it be, and so thei fillen tho vesselles
with gold. And whan that the folk supposen that the vesselles ben fulle
thei putten forthe anon the zonge foles and maken hem to nyzen aftre hire
dames, and than anon the mares retornen towardes hire foles with hire
charges of gold, and than men dischargen hem and geten gold y now be this
sotyltee; for the Pissemyres* wole suffren bestes to gon and pasturen
amonges hem, but no man in no wyse.”

* It might be atheme for Naturalists to decide whether or no this orien-

CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. 167

GY

te

/

Among the customs of the kings and their people that dwell in
the islands “ costynge to Prestre Johnes Londe, the worshippe that —
the sone do the fader whan he is dede,” appears to be the most re-
markable. It consists of the most revolting ceremonies; thus,

«¢- Whan the fader is ded of ony man, and the sone list to do gret worshippe
to his fader, he sendethe to alle his friendes, and to alle his kyn, and for reli-
gious men and preestes, and for mynstralle also, in gret plentee. And
thanne men beren the dede bodye unto a grete hille, with grete joye and
solempnyte; and whan thei han brought it thider the chief prelate smytethe
of the hede and leyethe it upon a grete platere of gold or of sylver, zif so be
he be ariche man; and thanne he takethe the hede to the sone, and thanne
the sone and his othere kyn syngen and seyn many orisouns ; and thanne
the preestes and the religious men smyten alle the bodye of the dede man in
peeces ; and thanne thei seyn certyn orisouns. And the foules of raveyne
of alle the contree abouten knowen the custom of longe tyme before, and
comen fleenge aboven in the eyr, as egles, gledes, ravenes, and othere foules
of raveyne that eten flessche ; and thanne the preestes casten the gobettes of
the flessche, and thanne the foules eche of hem takethe that he may and
gothe a litille thens and etethe it ; and so thei don whils ony pece lastethe
of the dede bodye; and aftere that the preestes syngen for the dede. And
thanne semethe it to the sone that he is highliche worshipt whan that manye
briddes and foules and raveyne comen and eten his fader; and he that athe
most nombre of foules, is moste worshiped. Thanne the sone bryngethe

tal legend concerning the ¢‘ Pissemyres” may not have derived its origin from
a fantastic consideration of the Termites and the wonderful sagacity dis-
played in their labours and their social economy. Consult the Philosophical
Transactions : vol. 73, p. 139, 1781.

¢

168 CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

hoom with him alle his kyn and his frends and alle the othere of his hows,
and makethe hem a Baie feste. And whan thei ben at mete, the sone let
brynge forthe the hede of his fader and there of he zevethe of the flesche to
his most specyalle frendes in stede of Entre Messe or a sukkarke. And of
the brayn panne he lettethe make a cuppe and there of drynkethe he, and
his othere frendes also, with grete devocioun, in remembraunce of the holy
man that the aungeles of God han eten; and that cuppe the sone schalle
kepe to drynken of alle his lif tyme, in remembraunce of his fader.”

Another of the islands is represented as being a great kingdom
where the king is full rich and mighty ; and, amongst the rich men
of the country, there is a passing rich man that hath every year an
annual rent of three hundred thousand horse charged with corn, rice
and different kinds of grain. Now, this wealthy personage leadeth a
noble and delicate life; for, says the historian,

“He hathe every day fifty fair damyseles, alle maydens, that serven him
everemore at his mete; and whan he is at table, thei bryngen him hys mete
at every tyme, 5 and 5 to gedre; and in bryngynge hire servyse thei syngen
a song; and after that thei kutten his mete and putten it in his mouth ; for
he touchethe no thinge, he handlethe nought, but holden evere more his
honds before him upon the table. For he hathe so longe nayles that he may

take no thinge, ne handle no thinge. For the noblesse of that contree is to
have longe nayles, and to make hem growen alle weys to bend as longe as men
may. And there ben manye in that contree that han hire nayles so longe
that thei environne alle the hond; and that is a: gret noblesse. And the
noblesse of the women is for to haven smale feet and littille ; and therfore
anon as thei ben born, thei leet bynde hire feet so streyte that thei may not
growen half as nature wolde. And alle weys theise damyseles, that I spak of

CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. 169

beforn, syngen alle the tyme that this riche man etethe ; and whan he eteth
no more of his cours, thanne othere 5 and 5 of fair damyseles bryngen him
his seconde cours, alle weys syngynge as thei did beforn; and so thei don
contynuelly every day to the ende of his mete; and in this manner he
ledethe his lif; and so did thei before him that weren his auncestores, and so
schalle thei that comen aftre him with outen doynge of ony dedes of armes,
but. lyven evere more thus in ese as a swyn that is fedde in sty for to ben
made fatte.”

From the preceding analytical sketches, the archedlogist may eli-
cit motives to institute an attentive perusal of Sir Joun Maunpe-
vILLE’s Voiage and Travaile, for the purpose of discriminating
such of his facts and observations as have been confirmed by subse-
quent experience, from the flourishes of fiction wherewithal his vene-
rable chorography is liberally arrayed. With regard to the marvel-
lous stories so readily credited by our author, and the great respect
he pays to every relic, as the Editor has judiciously observed, these
are not matters of surprize when we consider the enthusiasm of a
zealous Roman catholic of the fourteenth century. He was treading
on sacred ground, and credited, because he desired to credit, every
idle story that came floating before his view. We may grieve over
the prostration of a vigorous intellect, in conning the Knighte’s grete
meraycles ; but we need not express astonishment nor employ repre-
hension, on discovering the credulity of a romantic pilgrim, when we
reflect that even his tales of saints and monsters, of bugbears and
miracles, were originally the elaborate fabrications of ‘“ Ghostly
Fathers” to whose charge the secular and religious education of
Christendom was then confided- Throughout his “ Tretys” are in-
terspersed many practical directions which would prove useful to
others afterwards engaged in the same course of peregrination : its
extraordinary popularity, indeed, as evinced by the numerous M.S.S.
and printed editions of his Travaile, in various languages, most
clearly shows that the book was considered both entertaining and in-
structive : nevertheless, in all its sections, we may discern the inge-
nuous traveller’s powerfulness to detect the detestable contrivances
whereby the priesthood laboured, in those days, to paralyze the di-
vinely elastic energies of man’s immortal mind.

VOL. X., NO. XXVIII. 22

. se 170

REVIEWS OF FOREIGN WORKS LATELY
PUBLISHED ON THE CONTINENT.

Geschichte und System der Platonische Philosophie ( History and
System of the Platonic Philosophy), by Dr. K. Fr. Hermann.
Ist Part. Heidelberg, 1838.

Some years ago, Mr. Hermann, one of the most distinguished
scholars, philosophers, and antiquarians of the day, intimated his
intention of publishing a complete system of the Platonic Philosophy.
That promise, which had excited in no small degree the curiosity of
the literary world on the continent, is in part fulfilled by the appear-
ance of the first volume, divided into three books. Though we must
confess that the volume before us, so far from completing the system,
on the contrary, suggests new points for inquiry, the novel and ori-
ginal point of view, however, which the author has taken to develope
the system, will undoubtedly form a new era in the Platonic literature.

The author’s plan is, to connect as close as possible the develop-
ment of Plato’s philosophical views with that of his moral and civil
life. He is, therefore, not satisfied with the exhibition of a few de-
tached periods in the life of Plato, but follows him through all the
stages of his life, as bearing immediately upon his political and phi-
losophical views. The period in which Plato was born leads to the
investigation of the administration of Pericles and its consequences,
on which Plato animadverted in unsparing terms. Plato’s exclusive
intercourse with Socrates, which prevented his becoming acquainted
with the other philosophical systems of the day, and the subsequent
death of the latter, which opened to his view the fallacious systems of
his contemporaries, form a peculiar epoch in his life, not only for his
philosophical opinions, but also with regard to his political views,
having formed but a poor opinion of the principles of justice as preva-
lent in his native place, which condemned his righteous teacher to a
villainous death. This his indignation induced him to decline sery-
ing his country practically, by fulfilling some public office, to which
he was entitled by birth and station in social life. The author, on
the other hand, points skilfully out all the advantages Plato had de-
rived from his travels in Major Greece, and the reconciliation with his
countrymen, the result of his intercourse with Dionysius and other
influential characters, which also roused in him the confidence of re-
alising his moral notions.

These are the outlines of the first book, in which an historical de-
velopment of the life of Plato is most elaborately sketched. There

ae ee eS

ee

REVIEWS OF FOREIGN WORKS. 171

are, however, general points which we would not take bona fide, and
most particularly the assertion of the author that before the death of
Socrates Plato had been unacquainted with the other philosophical
systems of the day—a circumstance that is replete with very import-
ant consequences for the conclusions and inferences developed in the
sequel.

The second book exhibits the various systems of the philosophy of
the day, their influence upon, and connection with, that of Plato.
The general opinion that Plato had reconciled and adopted in his
system the different contradictory views of the other philosophers, does
not seem satisfactory to our author, who argues, with a great display
of erudition, that Plato had merely worked out the materials of va-
rious fallacious views into a system of his own, in which he trans-
forms the unity of the Electic school into the principle of form, the

. perpetual creation of Heraclite into the principle of matter, the

creating spirit of Anaxagoras into a primitive cause, and the notion
of harmony of Pythagoras into the final end and aim of all the ope-
rations of nature in general. In developing the systems of the phi-
losophers just mentioned, the author dwells particularly on the sys-
tem of the sophists, not only because it preceded more immediately
that of Plato, and throws besides great light upon the philosophy of
Socrates, but also because the author does not concur in the opinion
of those who consider the system of the sophists as a corrupted
branch of the vigorous tree of knowledge, but views it rather as the
natural fruit of the loose and partial speculations of the preceding
philosophers. Whatever the defects and fallacies, the author thinks,
of their views may have been, the sophists have the credit of having
been the first to single out the reflecting subject, man, as the basis of
all philosophical contemplations ; but while they spoke of man only
in his individual and personal quality, Socrates pointed to the whole
sphere of humanity, in his sublime relation to the Deity, as the stan-
dard of all objects in nature. The application of the Socratic doc-
trines, however, to the views of nature by the preceding philosophers,
soon led to those partial and incorrect notions, as promulgated by the
various so-called—though improperly—Socratic schools, until Plato
united them all in the harmonic structure of his system.

The third book contains the chronological arrangment of P.’s writ-
ings, illustrative of his system; and is of great importance to those
readers who have perused Schleiermacher’s divisions on that head.
The latter tries to lend to all the writings of P., his detached dis-
courses not even excepted, a certain dialectic method, while Dr.
Hermann is opposed to that view for sundry reasons, and thinks it,
among others, highly improbable that P. should, in the long career
of his authorship, have continually thought and written on a certain
fixed plan; he is, therefore, of opinion, that the plan and method of
P. underwent the same and simultaneous development as his views,
and ripened with them. This the author explains and supports by

172 REVIEWS OF FOREIGN WORKS.

such vigorous arguments, as hard and original as they are correct, as
to baffle the most strenuous advocates of Schleiermacher’s system. ,
After this introduction, the author again resumes the thread of the
first two books. The death of Socrates, and P.’s return from his tra-
vels, form three periods in P.’s writings, and Dr. H. very ingeniously
makes use of three dialogues Lyris, Theactet, and Symposium, to
characterise those periods, at the same time that he places Pheedrus
—contrary to the opinion of Schleiermacher—in a far later period.
As to the genuineness of the single dialogues, the author considers as
forgeries, beside Axiochus, Demodocus, etc., also the second Alcibi-
ades, the Anterosts, Epinomis, the definitions Klitophon and Theages,
while he refutes the arguments advanced against the genuinéness of
the lesser Hippias, Ion, the first Alcibiades, Charmides, Lysis, and
Laches.

oe

Der Christliche Altar, archdologisch und artistisch dargestellt.
Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Altars und zur Erhaltung alterer
Kirchendenkmaler und deren Wiederherstellung. Von C. Heid-
eloff. Mit erklarenden Texte von Jeo. Neumann.—(The Chris-
tian Altar, represented archeologically and artistically. A contri-
bution to the History of the early Monuments of the Church, and
their Restoration. By C. Heideloff. With an explanatory text
by Geo. Numann). With eleven copperplates. Nuremberg, 1838.

However short the explanatory remarks and observations may
appear concerning the grouped figures contained in the work before
us, in general the author has nevertheless most carefully noticed the
most important incidents. After a few and brief remarks on the ori-
gin and names of altars in general, and on their form and nature,
among the Jews and heathens, the author begins his description of
the christian altar, from the original form of a simple table of the first
century, down to the most complicated structure and adornments of
the later ages. The main object of the celebrated artist by the exhi-
bition of the numerous groups of altars, seems to have been to draw
the attention of the wardens and trustees of churches to the discord
that frequently exists between the architecture of the church and the
altar, and to assist them to remedy the evil without being absolutely
versed in the minutiz of the art. “It often struck me,” says the
author, ‘ that the colossal altars of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries were entirely misplaced in churches built in the form of ar-
chitecture as prevalent in the tenth or fifteenth century. An instance
of palpable disharmony of this sort is seen in the Cathedral of Bam-
berg, which is built in the pure Byzantine style, while the colossal
altar, reaching to the very vault of the roof, disfigures the tout ensem-

REVIEWS OF FOREIGN WORKS. 173

ble as something monstrous. It is astonishing how people calling
themselves architects should be so ignorant of the archeology of their
art. Even taste and common sense ought to have pointed out to
them the absurdity of disfiguring an edifice built on the plan of archi-
tecture of the tenth or fifteenth century, by modern ingredients, to
erect in it an immensely large altar, giving to the whole the appear-
ance of two distinct churches, one within the other, and not seldom
obstructing the view of a fine piece of architecture or window ; by
such a proceeding they defy all the rules of the art and taste, destroy
all harmony of architecture to raise a lasting monument of their own
ignorance and vanity.”

The sketches of the figures are elegantly executed, and sufficiently
illustrated to convey the views of the author. The whole is chrono-
logically arranged, showing at once the architecture of the various
ages, and exhibiting to the naked eye its style, symmetry, and pecu-
liar beauties.

Die Herer im Westen und Osten. Eine ethnographische Unter-
suchung itber deren Stammverwandtschaft, nach der Mythe und
Geschichte, mit Riiek sicht atif die Cultur und Sprache dieses
Volks; nebst einer Ansicht der Homerischen Kimmerier und der
sogenannten Homerischen Geographie tiberhaupt. Artemidorus der
Geograph.—( The Iberians in the West and the East ; an eth-
nographical investigation into their relationship, in accordance with
Mythology and History, and with regard to the culture and lan-
guage of that people; together with a view of the Homeric Cim-
merians and the so-called Homeric Geography in general. Arte-
midorus the Geographer). By Dr. S. F. W. Hoffmann. Leipsic,
1838.

THERE is much information to be gathered, in the first part, con-
cerning the Homeric Geography. The author, however, in fairly es-
tablishing the principle that, in treating the subject, we ought not to
carry our present better knowledge of geography into the field of in-
vestigation to serve as a standard for our research, has himself, on the
other hand, violated the very same principle, by placing the Homeric
Cimmerians, who are involvedin the mist of the fables and fictions of
the earliest ages, in the north, and perceiving in them, after the exam-
ple of Strabbo, a race’ of people who had settled in the vicinity
of the Caspian Sea. It is true that the hypothesis is greatly borne
out by a host of popular sayings; yet similar testimonies may be
brought in support, also, of Scheria and Ogygia, which the author
rejects as pure fables, and for which he hurls his anathema against
his predecessors. At all events, it remains difficult to fix a firm

174 REVIEWS OF FOREIGN WORKS.

point of view on a subject of that sort, when separated from the
whole. Far more satisfactory is the second part, where the author,
in opposition to Humboldt, who considers the Iberians of the Pyre-
nean peninsula as autochthons on philological grounds, renders it
very probable that those western Hibernians may have emigrated from
the east from some parts of Georgia. Nor can we help expressing
our entire satisfaction on the light the author has thrown on the
manners, constitution, religion, etc., of the people, as little has
hitherto been elucidated concerning them.

The third part, bearing the title “ Artemidorus the Geographer,”
stands in no connexion with the former, and contains, besides his life,
copious fragments of his yeoygepovuera, following Stephanus of Byzan-
tium. Mr. Hoffmann has arranged them according to the order of the
books, a task not very difficult, if proper use was made of the copious
notes of Stephanus. In the first book, Artemidorus treats of the
Gallic coast, and the remaining part of the country of the Celts ; in
the 2nd and 3rd, of the Hiberians and Lusitanians; in the 4th, of
Italy ; in the 5th, of Coscyra, Cephalleria, and Ithaca; in the 6th,
probably of Greece and the European coast of the Pontus; in the
7th, of Libya; in the 8th, of Egypt and Arabia; in the 9th and
10th, of Asia, as far as Judea ; in the 11th, of the eastern and south-
ern coast of the Pontus. Far less is known of Illyria, as the numbers
of the book in Stephanus bearing upon that country are, in part at
least, corrupted ; and if the correctness of sg#rn (Bodvyes) be also
doubted, there remains but the 5th book, which to judge from the
contents, might have treated of it. The author did not add the va-
rious critical readings of the text to the fragments. The collection
has, therefore, only the merit of showing us all that relates to Artemi-
dorus; but as for the better understanding of the text, the inquisi-
tive reader will be obliged to look out for the various editions, for we
know how many blanks there are still left for criticism to fill up in
the ancient geographies.

Vom Nexum. Ein Beitrag znr Geschichte des Rémischen Rechts
( Of the Nexum ; a contribution to the Roman law), by Dr. Chr.
Gott]. Adal. Scheurl. Erlangen, 1839.

A powerful treatise, and shows to advantage the learning and ta-
lent of the writer, and of whose exertions much may still be expected
in the field of civil law. He has examined the views laid down by
Niebuhr, Savigny, Zimmerm, Suchta, and Walter, concerning the
Nexum, with great judgment and erudition, and succeeded—it ap-
pears to us—in showing their futility. His own view on the subject
is so simple and natural that it appears plausible already on that score

OUTLINES OF PERIODICAL LITERATURE. 175

alone, when compared with the artificial argumentations and hypo-
theses of the former. We must refrain fiom entering into the de-
tails of the work, but are sure that no impartial critic will deny it
the merit of at least a lucid and elaborate investigation on the subject
in question.

OUTLINES OF PERIODICAL LITERATURE,

RELATING TO THE NATURAL SCIENCES & PHILOSOPHY.

The Magazine of Natural History, and Journal of Zoology, Botany, Mineralogy,
Geology, and Meteorology, conducted by Epwarp CuarLEsworth, F.G.S.
8vo, London, 1839.

No. xxvirr, Aprit, 1839.—First on the list for this month, are Madame
Power’s observations on the poulp of the argonaut, with concluding remarks.
In a continuation of Dr. Bachman’s monograph on the genus Sciurus, five
species are described ; and, in the two next articles, you have a notice of a
new species of Rotalia with eight figures, and a description of a new fossil
Avicula, represented in a very distinct figure. Mr. Garner proceeds with
his anatomy of the Lamellibranchiate Conchiferous animals, and treats of their
digestive, circulating, and respiratory systems: his is followed by Mr. Hope
with observations on forty-four of the Lamellicorns of Olivier, and by Mr.
Pellerin’s structural differences in the crania of the four species of British
Swans, accompanied by the figure of a skull. Mr. Bird continues his artifi-
cial arrangements of the natural orders of British plants; and this is succeed-
ed by Mr. Waterhouse’s observations on the Rodentia, with a view to point
out the groups as indicated by the cranial structure: eight figures give il-
lustrations. From the pen of Dr. Bird you receive a letter on the applica-
tion of Heliographic or photogenic drawing to botanical pnrposes, with an
economic mode of preparing the paper. An editorial article points out the
importance of Madame Power’s experiments, the defects of the “ Proceed-
ings of the London Botanical Society,” and the advantages of publishing il-
lustrative plates in supplementary numbers. And the Short Communica-
tions relate to experiments on kyanised wood, ignes fatui, captures of eagles,
appearance of the bat, the migration of the swifts, improvements in the mi-
croscope, and to an anomalous apterous insect inhabiting the Spongia fuviati-
lis, whose undulating motion it is supposed to produce.

No. xx1x, May.—Extracts from the Proceedings of the Geological Society
relating to the mammiferous remains of the Stonesfield oolitic strata, consti-
tute the leading article of this number: this paper is long and interesting.

a

176 OUTLINES OF PERIODICAL LITERATURE,

Professor Phillips gives a concise but most important biographical notice of
William Smith, L.L.D., the “father of English geology.” Dr. Bachman
then describes another species, with two varieties, of the squirrels: Dr.
Drummond notices and figures one Irish Entozoon : Mr. Hope characterizes
a new species of Lamia: Mr. V. Wood distinguishes the four species of the
genus Lima, and two species of the sub-genus Limatula, from the coralline
crag: Mr. Long and Mr. Yarrell record the discovery of the nest and eggs
of a common Cross-bii/ found in Surrey: Mr. Saunders points out the locali-
ties of forty plants growing about Kirtlington, and Mr. Charlesworth con-
tributes an additional section to his illustrated zoological notices. Reviews
of three.books, a French, a German, and an English—Beale’s on the Sperm-
whale, with a plate—conduct you to the editorial article, having reference
chiefly to the characters of the Stonesfield fossil jaws, and to the first speci-
men, by M. Louis Agassiz, of a regular system of piracy upon the literary
productions of English naturalists. The Short Communications are inti-
tuled, Breeding of the Woodcock in England, Observations on the Iconogra-
phie des Insectes Coléoptéres, and a new species of frog in yellow amber.

No. I. of Natural-History Illustrations, or supplementary plates to the Ma-
gazine of Natural History, contains four exquisitely-finished engravings.
The first is a “living likeness” of William Smith, L.L.D., a portrait which
ought to occupy a distinguished position in the library of every British geo-
logist. For the second, you have a perfect figure of the magnificent Lamia
boisduvalii, a new species from New Holland. The third plate represents the
four species of Lima and two of the Limatula, in twenty-four figures; and, on
the fourth, are exhibited the fossil remains of the Hybodus delabechei, with
admirable exactness and beauty. The Natural-History Illustrations possess
extraordinary merit as mere examples of Art; as graphical aids to the de-
velopment of science, their importance and execution cannot be too highly
appreciated.

No. xxx, JunE.— With farther observations on the history and classifica-
tion of the Marsupial quadrupeds of New Holland by Mr. Ogilby, this num-
ber opens with its valuable stores. Mr. Hogg follows with a prefatory re-
view of the classifications of Amphibious animals adopted by modern natura-
lists, and the first portion of an arrangement which hehimself has construct-
ed and prefers. Observations on the Rodentia, by Mr. Waterhouse, are con-
tinued and illustrated with ten figures of skulls and jaws. Mr. Ogilby de-
scribes and figures the frontal spine of a new species of Hybodus found in
wealden clay ; and Mr. Woods addresses a letter to the editor respecting the
supposed frontal spine of Hybodus in the Bath museum. Dr. Moore’s cata-
logue of the Malacostracous Crustacea of South Devon, is a methodical, ex-
act, and important contribution to the natural history of that district. In
another section of his anatomy of the Lamellibranchiate Conchiferous animals,
Mr. Garner enlarges minutely on their excretory system. A consorious epis-
tle from “ Philalethes” represents the Botanical Garden at Calcutta as hay-
ing fallen into a state of lamentable degradation, and then Reviews of Hope’s
Coleopterist’s Manual and of Halliday’s Hymenoptera Britannica, bring you
to the Short Communications, with the titles—Breeding of the Cross-bill in
Gloucestershire and Surrey; carnivorous propensity of the Squirrel; and
the distribution of the Marsupial animals.

OUTLINES OF PERIODICAL LITERATURE. 177

The Naturalist ; illustrative of the Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral Kingdoms ;
with portraits and memoirs of eminent naturalists, and engravings on
wood; edited by Neville Wood, Esq. ; royal 8vo, London, 1839.

No. XX XVII, May, 1839.

l. 7. B. Hail; Account of the Liver-
pool Botanic Garden.

2. Sketches of European Ornithology,
taken from the Analyst.

3. T. G. R. Rylands ; Varieties of
British Ferns, and Diagnostics of

- allied species.

4. Prof. Meyen; the Digestive Ap-
paratus of Infusoria.

5. T. B. Hall; Habits of British
Plants, and Derivations of their
Latin names.

6. J. L. Levison ; Comparative Phre-
nology.

7. Correspondence, with two figures.

8. Notes on Various Topics.

9. Memoir of Professor Lindley, with
a portrait.

10. Proceedings of Natural History
Societies.

‘lH. Extracts from Foreign Publica-

tions.
12. Reviews, intelligence, and miscel-
lanies. y

No, XXXVIITI, June, 1839.

1. H. Buist ; Report of Dr. Schom-
burgk’s Expedition into British
Guiana.

2. Dr. Poppig; Remarks on Tropi-
cal Seas.

3. Habits of the Rat ; from the Dub-
lin Medical Press.

4. T. B. Hall; Botanical Notes,
chiefly referred to “Col. Velley’s
M.S.”

5. Sketches of European Ornithology,
taken from the Analyst.

6. T. B. Hall; Habits of British

Plants,and the Derivations of their
Latin names.

7. Correspondence ; the Black Scoter
and Crested Grebe, the Podalirius
a British butterfly, instance of
three Pupze in one cocoon.

8. Proceedings of Natural-History
Societies.

9. Extracisfrom foreign publications.

10. Reviews and Miscellanies.

11. Biographical Notice of the late
Dr. Latham. This number com-
pletes the fourth volume.

The Foreign Monthly Review and Continental Literary Journal ; 8vo, London,
1839.

WHETHER the Foreign Monthly Review be appreciated by its intellectual
or machanical execution, the Journal certainly possesses extraordinary
merit : the subjects are selected with exemplary judgment, and the articles
composed with singular elegance, remarkable ability, and a wise as well as
just discrimination : we arrange their titles, in English, under the attention
of our readers.

VOL. X., NO. XXVIII. 2a

178

OUTLINES OF PERIODICAL LITERATURE.

No. I, May, 1839.

1. German Almanac of the Muses,
for 1839.

2. Ramon de la Sagra; Elementary
Education in Holland and Belgium

3. M. de Saint Hilaire ; Private Life
of Napoleon.

4, Dr. Julins ; Society and Manners
in the United States.

5. Literary Contemporaries at Wei-
mar, Bottigen, and Weiland.

6. Dr. Forster ; Court and Cabinet
of Augustus IT, king of Poland.

7. Dumas and Dawrats; A Fort-
night’s Visit to Mount Sinai.

8 Droz; Reign of Louis XVI, and
the French Revolution.

9. Count M. Dumas ;~ His Reminis-
cences, published by his son.

10. J. M. Lappenberg; History of
England, volumes one and two.
ll. French Encyclopedia for the Edu-
cated Classes; the original of Gé-

ethe’s Faust.

12. F. T. Silvatici ; Memoir on the
Draining and Improvement of the
Tuscan Marshes. _

13. Franz Palacky ; Literary Tour
in Italy, in quest of Sources of
Bohemian and Moravian history.

14. Dumont D’ Urviille ; French Ex-
pedition towards the South Pole.

15. German Popular Publications ; So-
lomon and Morolf, a most divert-
ing history.

16. Roux de Rochelle; Pictorial His-
tories—the World—History and
Description of all Nations—Unit-
ed States of America.

17. Literary Intelligence—France,
Holland, Germany, Switzerland,
Italy, Hungry, Wallachia, Turkey,
and Russia..

18. Lists of New Foreign Publica-
tions, including upwards of three
hundred articles, alphabetically ar-
ranged.

No. 11, June, 1839.

cd

1. Count de Torreno; History of the
Insurrection, War and Revolution
in Spain.

2. Dr. E. Eichwald ; Travels to the
Caspian Sea and in the Caucasus.
3. Almanac of the Muses ; the Lyric

Poets of Germany ; second article.

4. Thiollet and Roux ; Collection of
internal and external Architectu-
ral Decorations.

5. Dr. Hermann Ulrici ; Shakspeare’s
Dramatic Art, and his relation to
Calderon and Géethe.

6. Literary Contemporaries at Wei-
mar; second article—Géethe.

7. Bignon ; History of France under
Napoleon, the second epoch; Rus-
sia in the East.

8. Dr. Huber ; The English Univer-
sities, a preparatory work to the
History of English Literature.

9. Daguerre’s Discovery ; the Photo-
genic or Heliographic Impressions.

10. Dr. Gustav Klemm; Manual of
German Archzeology.

ll. G. Pierini; Filiberta Madruz-
zo, an historical tale.

12. Martin Doisy ; Unpublished Ma-
nuscript of Louis X VIII, preced-
ed by an Examination of his Poli-
tical Life till the time of the Char-
ter of 1814.

13. Ludwig Tieck ; Collected Tales.

14. Dr. G. L. Kreigk; Report on
District of the Ouquis in Bolivia.

15. J. C. Kretschmer ; Military Life
in the field and the camp.

16. Nik. Josika ; Hungarian Novels
and Tales.

‘17. Literary Intelligence, from the

Continent.
18. Lists of new Foreign Publica-
tions, in April and May.

OUTLINES OF PERIODICAL. LITERATURE.

179

/ P

Annals of Natural History ; or Magazine of Zoology, Botany, and Geology ;
conducted by Sir W. Jardine, Bart., P. J. Selby, Esq., Dr. Johnson, Sir
W. J. Hooker, and Richard Taylor, F.L.S. 8vo. London, 1839, with

Graphic Illustrations.

No. XVI, May, 1839.

1. E. Forbes ; Two British species of
Cydippe, with a plate.

2. Dr. Arnott ; New and Rare Indi-
an Plants.

3. E. Beyrich; Goniatites in the
transition formations of the Rhine,
with figures.

4. Capt. Cautley ; Fossil Ruminant
allied to Giraffidee,in the Siwalik
hills.

5. F. Dujardin ; the Digestive Or-
gans of Infusoria.

6. F. Walker ; Descriptions of Bri-
tish Calcidites.

7. W. Thompson; Effects of the

' Hurricane of January, on Birds
and Fishes.

8. Prof. Ehrenberg ; Meteoric Paper
composed of Confervee and Infuso-

ria.

9. Bibliographical Notices ; five arti-
cles.

10. Proceedings of Learned Societies,
the Linnzan, Zoological, and Ge-
ological.

11, Miscellanies, and Meteorological
Observations,

No. XVII, June, 1839.

1. A. H. Haliday ; Generic Distri-
bution of British Hydromyzidee.
2. C. B. Babington ; 'The Ranuncu-
lus aquatilis of Smith.

3. R. Patterson; Common Limpet
considered as food.

4. M. Lund; Fossil Mammalia dis-
covered in Brazil.

5. E. Forbes ; Botanical Excursion
to the mountains of Carniola.

6. Sir P. G. Egerton; The Wild
Cattle at Bishops Auckland.

7. L. Jenyns; Three undescribed
species of Cimex, with a plate.

8. A. Cunningham; Botany of New

Zealand; fourteen species charac-
terized.

9. Information: respecting Mr. Gard-
ner’s Travels in Brazil.

10. Bibliographical Notices ; three ar-
ticles.

1]. Proceedings of the Linnzean, Bo-
tanical, Dublin Natural History,
West Yorkshire Natural History,
and Zoological Societies, and the
Royal Irish Academy.

12. Miscellanies ; six articles,

13. Meteorological 'Tables and Obser-
vations.

The London and Edinburgh Philosophical Magazine and Journal of Science ;
conducted by Sir David Brewster, F.R.S., Richard Taylor, F.G.S., and

Richard Phillips, F.1.8.

8vo, London, 1839.

No. XC., May, 1839.

1. Mr. Tovey; The Elliptical Pola-
‘rization produced by Quartz.

2. Dr. G. Bird; Products obtained
by the re-action of Nitric Acid on
Alcohol.

3. Prof. Plateau ; Theory of Visual
Appearances arising from the con-
templation of Coloured Objects.

4. Prof. Johnston ; The Constitution
of Resins.

s ye

180 OUTLINES OF PERIODICAL LITERATURE.

5. J. Ivory ; Theory of the Astrono-

. mnical Refractions: the Bakerian
lecture.

6. Prof. Phillips ; Classification of

~ Devonshire Strata.

7 Sedgwick and Murchison ; Supple-
mentary Remarks on the Devoni-
an System of Rocks.

8. D. Williams ; Classification of De-

_ vonshire Geological Formations

No. XCL,

1. C. T. Coathupe ; Products of Re-

_ spiration at different times of the
day.

2. Thomson and ‘Richardson ; Decom-

_ position of Amygdalium by Emul-
sion.

3. W. Trull; Effects of Light and
Air in restoring the Colours of the
Raphael Tapestries.

4. Prof. Forbes ; The Colours of the
Atmosphere.

5. Dr. C. T. Beke ; Alluvia of Baby-
lonia and Chaldezea.

6. H. Prater ; Anti-inflammable and
Anti-dry-rot powers of the Subcar-
bonate of Soda and other salts.

7. Prof. Plateau ; Visual Appear-
ances arising from contemplation

9. Proceedings of the Royal, Linnee-
an, Geological and Cambridge Phi-
losophical societies, and of the Roy-

-al Academy of Sciences at Paris.

10. Intelligence and Miscellanies, in

thirteen articles. é

lL. Meteorological Society, Observa-

tions and Tables.

JUNE, 1839.

of Coloured Objects ; a continua-
tion. betas

8. Polarized Condition of Platina E-
lectrodes, and Theory of Seconda-
ry Piles. PAGS tite

9. Proceedings of Societies ; the Geo-
logical, Linnzean, and Edinburgh
Society of Arts.

10. Notices respecting New Books ;
three articles.

ll. Intelligence and Miscellanies ;—
nine articles.

12. Meteorological Table and Obser-
vations. This and the preceding
number contain several “ miscella-
nies” relating to HELIograpuy,
or photographic drawing.

*,* The October number of “Tar Anatyst” will contain an Analytical
Account of the “Annales des Sciences Naturelles,” for the present

year.

at

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- QENOV

£
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a

BARLOW, PRINTER, BENNETT'S HILL, BIRMINGHAM.

IVANHOE BATHS,

ASHBY-DE-LA-ZOUCH.
SHBY-DE-LA-ZOUCH possesses many advantages, both natural and acquired,

in the extreme salubrity of its climate, in its finely sheltered situation with an open

‘outhern aspect, and in its position surrounded by a fertile district which abounds with excel-

nt fuel, and yields an overflow of the strongest medicinal springs. These originally, issued

t openings in the surface ; and, for ages before Ashby acquired celebrity as a Watering Place,
hey were held in singular repute, and variously applied by multitudes of the sick and infirm,
-esirous of profiting by their virtues. 5

The Ivanhoe Baths were erected in the year 1826, and are not more admired for the beauty

f their structure, than for the convenience of their several arrangements. The building con-
‘ists of a centre and two wings. In the former is the spacious pump room, finished with rich
*rchitectural decorations and ornamented with an elegant and lofty dome. In each of the

rings is a range of six Baths, with Douche, Vapour and Shower varieties ; and to every bath,
_» distinct and comfortable dressing-room is attached. Those for Gentlemen, with a large one
or swimming, and a Billiard-room, are in the north wing ; and, in the south, are those appro-
-riated to the use of Ladies, with a suite of apartments for the accommodation of company.
the Baths are plentifully supplied with the Mineral Waters, which have their sources in an
djacent mine, upwards of one thousand feet in depth.

The Ashby Medicinal Waters, naturally combine the Chlorides of Sodium, Magnesium and
Jalcium, with the Bromides of Sodium and Magnesium, in extraordinary proportions ; and
‘hey contain a far greater quantity of Bromine than any water in the kingdom used for similar
‘urposes. They derive their peculiar qualities from being highly charged with Chlorine and
Sromine: this last is a newly discovered alkaline substance, having very energetic properties.
These waters when judiciously employed according to rules, having reference to the Patient’s
‘onstitutional, habitual and disordered conditions, operate with remarkable efficacy in attain-
ig the salutary purposes for which the Chlorides and Bromides are medicinally prescribed.

These Waters furnish an excellent natural medicine which is powerfully tonic and deob-
struent ; and hence, their use is clearly indicated in all the diseases which are characterised by

Bhgestion or exhaustion, unaccompanied with fever or inflammation. As a Deobstruent, they

rify the blood and other fluids, and prevent or remove-.a tendency to swellings and dropsy.
As a Tonic, they support the powers of digestion, and stengthen the whole animal economy.
‘numerous well authenticated instances, the cures effected by them have been rapid, com-
lete and permanent; and, as auxiliaries to other remedies, they act with decided benefit in

Hleviating or subduing the virulence of many inveterate maladies. In gout and rheumatism,
ender their manifold complications ; in disorders of the nervous functions, and the distressing
esults of palsy ; in cutaneous and scorbutic affections ; in glandular enlargements and scrofu-
dus tumours, inducing a liability to wasting and decline in the young ; in general debility and
idigestion ; and, in tender constitutions pre-disposing to consumption, whether administered

internally or externally, a regular course of these Waters is genérally attended with great.
vantage and success. ‘They may be exhibited also as an invigorating restorative to the syste
when depressed by an excess of corporeal or mental exertion. Immersion in them, if righ
timed and regulated, and at the degree of temperature required by peculiar circumstances,
variably produces a re-action of the vital powers, most favourable to the conservation.
health and the prevention of disease. . ee aime SA, ag
ASHBY-DE-LA-Zoucn is distant from London 117 miles, Leicester 18, ny 28, B
mingham 28, Lichfield 18, Tamworth 13, Atherstone 14, Burton-upon-Trent 9, Derby
Nottingham 22, Loughborough 12, with most of which places it has daily communication; a
the London and Liverpool, Birmingham and Nottingham, and Sheffield and Birmingh
Cae passing daily through the town, render it easy of access from all parts of t
cingdom. ney

ANALYSIS OF THE WaTERS, by ANDREW Ure, M.D., F.R.S.
One Imperial Gallon, consisting of 70.689 grains, includes,

ble GRAIL
Chioride OF a aleti iy. o.ch. cs cescance con ahuseseguer act tented es Sc lduad ott event eae cedars! GOL
CHIDPING: OF MIRO NOSIUE 725. c5i 5.5 sls cer ctv aemee ben te ge switaal acs sco acscoscatage cesteneaeees a eeewees 43 RN
Crioride of Sedna... cipoccs scence a ccemmetpcumetponas sil bac-siiien « Vagus ven cadaccbowes fanea ene 3700.5
dron,-a9 a Protochloridess: 5. .24.2..c5 ceacsteeieeiee, cctk hone ery APACE Ty can of ‘a
Bromides of Sodium and Magnesium...............csecccceseceesseeserceeeee pabtizh sibs. ope sen ture
. ; 4575.’

The above eight grains of Bromides are equivalent to six grains of Bromine.

git JOHN MAUNDEVILLE’s “ VOIAGE AND TRAVAYLE,” whi
treateth of the Way to Hierusalem, and gf Maruale of Ynde, with other Lands a
Countries. A new edition, entire, with Introduction, Notes, Glossary, &c., by J. 0. Hat
WEL, Esq. 8vo., cloth, with numerous fac-similes of the rude wood-cuts, and frontispiece, &
from M.S.S. in the British Museum.—Price Eight Shillings. :
“'This supposed first English prose work will be found exceedingly curious. The midd
ages have scarcely a more interesting production.” bvrVemmmid ghinte Yn eae

London: Epwarp Lumiey, 56, ‘Chancery Lane.

PORTRAITS OF EMINENT NATURALISTS.
HE NATURALIST; a Monruty Journat, illustrative of the ANrMAl

VEGETABLE, and Mrinerat Kinepoms. Edited by Nevitite Woop, Esq. Ill
trated by Wood-cuts, Ms aideeg :
This Monthly Periodical is adapted and expressly intended alike for the Professor, the St
dent, and the General Reader; and the names of its Contributors, it is presumed, may be co}
sidered ample guarantee for its excellence. It is divided into Original Papers ; Correspol
dence; Chapter of Criticism ; Proceedings of societies, metropolitan, provincial, and foreig
Extracts from Foreign Periodicals; Reviews of New Publications; Literary Intelligen
Chapter of Miscellanies; Obituary. Sepia
No. XXV., for OcrozeRr, 1838 (commencing Vol. IV.), contains a Porrrart, Memo
and Aurograra, of the celebrated Ornithologist, Joun Latuam, Esq., M.D., F.BS., F.L8
F.AS., &c. ; cares a
- No. XXVIL., for Drcemeer, those of Epwarp Bevan, Esq., M.D., Author of “'T
Honey Bee.” . thy
No. X:XIX., for Frsruary, 1839, of HEwerr Cortreirt Warson, Esq., F.L.S., Edit
of the “ Phrenological Journal,” and Author of several well-known Botanical Works.”
No. XXXI., for Aprit, of Wirt1am Howitt. oe
No. XXXIL., for May, of Jonn Linney, Esq., Ph.D., F.R.S., Professor of Botany in th
University of London. ‘Gis 4
No. XXXIV _., for Jury (commenciug Vol V.), of Professor Araco. Fi
N.B.—Parties wishing to procure either future Nos. or the Vols. now ready of ‘The Ni
turalist at half price, may do so by paying in advance, (by a Post-office order or otherwis
12s, fora whole year, or 6s. for 6 months. Address “ NevitLE Woop, Esq. Campsall Ha
near Doncaster.” Letters need not be post paid. Persons paying in advance will have th
Nos. regularly left at their residence, early in the month carriage-free.

London: WuirtTaker & Co., Ave-Maria-Lane; and all Booksellers.
Price Two Shillings.

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