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THE 


MONTHLY    MAGAZINE, 


OR 


BRITISH    REGISTER 


LITERATURE,  SCIENCES,  AND  THE  BELLES-LETTRES. 


Nefo  Series?. 


RESENtE! 


JULY  TO  DECEMBER. 


VOL.  X. 


LONDON: 

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

1830. 


LONDON: 
HENRY  BAYLIS,  PRINTER,  JOHNSON VCOURT,  FLEET-STREET 


THE 

MONTHLY    MAGAZINE 

OF 

POLITICS,  LITERATURE,  AND  THE  BELLES  LETTRES. 
VOL.  X.]  JULY,  1830.  [No.  55. 


GEORGE  THE  FOURTH. 

THE  lamented  death  of  his  late  Majesty  occurred  within  so  few  hours 
of  the  time  when  this  publication  must  go  to  press,  that  we  might  be 
easily  excused  from  noticing  it  but  by  a  paragraph.  But  we  have  been 
anxious  to  do  more,  and,  by  whatever  exertion  on  our  part,  to  meet,  in 
some  degree,  the  public  interest  natural  to  so  grave  and  melancholy  an 
event  as  the  demise  of  the  Sovereign. 

George  Frederic  Augustus,,  his  late  Majesty,  was  born  on  the  12th  of 
August  1762,  the  eldest  son  of  their  Majesties  George  the  Third  and 
Queen  Charlotte.  As  it  was  the  desire  of  his  royal  father  that  he  should 
be  master  of  all  the  knowledge  and  accomplishments  necessary  for  the 
future  monarch  of  the  most  intellectual  and  influential  nation  of  Europe, 
the  prince  was  put  at  an  early  age  into  the  hands  of  tutors  of  acknow- 
ledged capacity,  the  chief  of  whom  were,  Markham,  late  Archbishop  of 
York,  and  Cyril  Jackson,  afterwards  distinguished  as  the  Dean  of  Christ 
Church,  Oxford.  There  were  some  subsequent  changes  in  the  persons 
about  the  prince,  but  his  education  was  continued  with  a  diligence  which 
made  him  no  mean  scholar,  and  imbued  him  with  a  degree  of  general 
taste  and  literature  probably  equal  to  that  of  any  sovereign  of  Europe. 

The  prince,  to  those  high  advantages,  united  those  of  nature  in  a  re- 
markable degree.  He  was  tall,  well  formed,  his  countenance  handsome, 
and  his  air,  manners,  and  address  princely,  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the 
word.  But  it  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  English  life  that  it  shall  be 
mingled  with  politics.  No  man  of  rank  can  be  suffered  to  escape  the 
general  net  of  party,  and  of  all  men,  the  future  master  of  the  throne  is 
naturally  the  chief  prize.  To  a  prince  of  the  heir-apparent' s  time  of  life 
'and  buoyancy  of  spirits,  there  could  be  no  comparison  between  the  par- 
ties which,  on  his  coming  of  age,  solicited  his  connexion.  Pitt  had  com- 
municated his  own  stern  and  reserved  habits  to  his  administration.  The 
Whigs  exhibited  the  complete  contrast  to  this  solemn  and  matter-of-fact 
school.  They  were  the  chief  nobility  of  the  land,  the  leaders  of  fashion- 
able life,  the  men  of  wit,  elegance,  and  taste ;  their  houses  were  the  resort 
of  all  that  was  brilliant  in  male  ability  and  attractive'  in  female  elegance. 
Fox,  Burke,  Sheridan,  Wyndham,  with  a  crowd  of  inferior  stars,  .glit- 
'tered  in  the  Whig  galaxy;  while,  on  the  other  side,  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  the  frowning  majesty  of  Pitt's  genius,  his  retired  virtue,  and  his 
uncompromising  scorn  of  the  pliancy  and  moral  laxity  of  his  showy  com- 
petitors. Pitt's  official  subordinates  were  scarcely  more  attractive ;  what- 
ever might  be  their  personal  qualities,  they  were  but  instruments  in  the 
hands  of  their  great  master,  and  the  whole  aspect  of  Toryism  was  clouded 
and  hardened  by  official  severity. 

The  prince  instantly  adopted  the  party  which  offered  the  stronger  cap- 
tivations  to  his  unpractised  and  susceptible  passions  ;  and  the  Foxite  prin- 
ciples, if  principles  they  deserve  to  be  called,  were  from  that  hour  his  po- 
litical creed  for  years. 

M.  M.  New  Scries.— VOL.  X.  No.  55.  B 


10  George  Hie  Fourth.  [JULY, 

But  unhappily  the  connexion  with  Whig  politics  implied  that  intimate 
connexion  with  the  leaders  of  the  party,  which  involved  the  prince  in  their 
private  habits.  No  result  could  be  more  unfortunate.  Fox  and  his  chief 
associates  were  notorious  for  indulgence  in  all  the  dissipations  of  fashion- 
able life.  The  prince  plunged  into  those  dissipations  with  the  reckless 
ardour  of  passions  unrestrained,  of  rank  without  a  superior,  and  of  for- 
tune that,  by  youth,  might  be  deemed  inexhaustible.  Actresses,  wine,  the 
turf,  building,  a  boundless  establishment,  all  the  shapes  in  which  income 
could  be  expended,  dissipation  indulged,  or  public  anxiety  and  re- 
pugnance excited,  were  the  habitual  indulgences  of  a  prince  scarcely 
emerged  from  boyhood — but  nothing  could  be  more  disastrous  than  this 
commencement  of  his  career.  The  public  morality  was  hurt  by  the  ex- 
ample of  the  prince's  private  life.  The  public  burthens  were  unpopularly 
increased  by  his  expenditure,  at  a  time  of  national  pressure ;  and  the 
rising  spirit  of  disgust  against  all  royal  privileges,  just  and  unjust,  which 
had  been  first  excited  in  America,  then  propagated  in  France,  and  was 
rapidly  becoming  familiar  to  England,  took  singular  advantage  of  princely 
irregularity  as  an  argument  against  royal  rule.* 

In  1783  the  prince  terminated  his  nonage,  was  introduced  into  the 
House  of  Peers,  appointed  colonel  of  the  10th  dragoons,  and  received 
an  increased  allowance  of  50,000/.  a-year.  This  allowance  was  speedily 
found  unequal  to  the  expenditure  of  the  prince's  various  establish- 
ments ;  and  his  debts,  within  three  years,  compelled  an  application  to 
parliament.  There  could  have  been  no  more  unpopular  application, 
for  the  sum  was  enormous,  nearly  £300,000.  But  the  public  dis- 
trust was  still  augmented  by  another  instance  of  the  rash  and  undi- 
rected passions  of  the  prince.  Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  a  woman  of  fa- 
shion, and  of  striking  beauty,  had  attracted  his  attentions.  She  was 
a  widow,  and  it  began  to  be  rumoured,  that  the  prince  had  actually 
married  her.  The  grievance  was  increased  in  the  public  and  royal  eye 
by  her  being  a  Roman  Catholic,  a  marriage  with  whom  would,  by  law, 
extinguish  the  prince's  succession  to  the  throne.  The  king  was  indig- 
nant, the  public  were  offended,  and  the  ministry  felt  themselves  em- 
powered to  impose  the  harshest  terms  on  the  prince,  and  to  heap  on  the 
opposition  the  whole  obloquy  of  having  encouraged  him  to  an  act  little 
short  of  treason  to  the  Protestant  throne.  There  was  but  one  way  to 
evade  the  crisis,  and  Fox  took  upon  himself  the  extraordinary  expedient. 
In  the  face  of  the  House  and  the  country,  he  pledged  himself  that  the 
prince  was  not  married.  But  even  this  expedient  succeeded  but  imper- 
fectly— Fox's  pledge  was  dubiously  received ; — the  public  believed  that 
he  had  sacrificed  his  honour,  and  a  compromise  was  finally  made,  scarcely 
less  galling  than  a  total  refusal.  A  part  of  the  encumbrances  was  paid 
off,  leaving  the  prince  liable  to  the  most  pressing  debts — his  debts  of 
honour,  and  concluding  with  equal  irritation  on  the  side  of  the  king, 
the  prince  and  the  people. 

The  prince  was  now  for  some  years  abstracted  from  politics.  The 
titter  hopelessness  of  the  Whigs,  while  Pitt  continued  to  be  supported 
by  the  king,  had  sickened  them  all  of  public  life ;  and  the  party  reserved 
their  strength  for  some  of  those  contingencies  which  so  frequently  change 
the  aspect  of  affairs  in  England.  The  contingency  at  length  came.  In 
1788  the  king  was  suddenly  afflicted  with  insanity.  The  Whig  party 
now  awoke  in  its  strength,  and  Pitt  was  assailed  in  the  absence  of  his 
powerful  protector.  The  grand  object  was  to  place  the  prince  at  the 
head  of  the  nation  as  Regent.  But  the  singular  genius  of  Pitt,  never 
more  splendidly  exercised  than  at  that  moment,  established  his  supremacy. 
The  Whigs,  urged  by  eagerness  for  power,  rashly  suffered  themselve? 


1830.]  George  the  Fourth.  11 

to  become  the  advocates  of  maxims  directly  opposed  to  the  Constitution. 
The  ministry  were  thus  placed  in  the  position  of  its  defenders— the  public 
feeling  gradually  gathered  round  them — restraints  on  the  Regency  were 
sanctioned  by  great  majorities  in  Parliament,  which  would  have  made 
the  Regent  but  a  superior  servant  of  the  administration ;  the  prince 
shrank  from  this  fettered  authority,  and  while  he  still  hesitated,  the 
nation  was  surprised  and  rejoiced  by  the  announcement  of  the  king's 
complete  recovery.  Whiggism  sank  at  once,  and  Pitt's  fame  and  influ- 
ence were  triumphantly  established  on  its  ruins. 

The  prince  now  sank  again  into  private  life.  But  debt  still  pursued 
him.  He  attempted  to  throw  it  off,  by  reducing  all  his  establishments. 
This  measure  was  unsuccessful ;  his  creditors  were  not  to  be  paid  by  re- 
trenchment ;  and  the  painful  resource  of  a  parliamentary  appeal  became 
once  more  necessary.  His  debts  now  amounted  to  jB6.S9,000 ! 

But  Pitt  was  now  his  advocate,  for  the  king's  consent  had  been  obtained 
by  a  sacrifice  which  the  prince  had  often  declared  to  be  the  most  trying, 
and  which  in  after  days  he  had  bitter  reason  to  deplore.  The  king's 
commands  had  been  laid  upon  him  to  marry  in  his  own  rank  ;  and  his 
majesty's  niece,  the  late  unfortunate  Queen  Caroline,  was  chosen  as  the 
bride.  The  prince's  stipulation  was  the  discharge  of  his  debts.  The 
debts  were  discharged,  the  marriage  ceremony  performed,  and  within  a 
week  it  was  understood  that  disgust  on  one  side,  and  disdain  on  the 
other,  had  separated  the  royal  pair  for- ever. 

On  the  7th  of  January,  1796,  her  Royal  Highness  the  Princess  of 
Wales  was  safely  delivered  of  a  princess,  at  Carlton  House,  and  on  the 
llth  February  following,  in  the  evening,  the  royal  infant  was  baptised, 
and  received  the  name  of  Charlotte  Augusta.  Notwithstanding  the 
general  joy  that  prevailed  throughout  the  nation  on  the  birth  of  a  princess, 
her  parents  now  determined  on  a  formal  separation,  and  the  princess 
had  apartments  assigned  to  her  in  Kensington  Palace.  Her  Royal 
Highness  subsequently  purchased  a  house  at  Blackheath,  and  continued 
in  England  until  the  9th  of  August,  1814,  when  the  princess  embarked 
at  Worthing,  in  an  English  frigate,  the  Jason,  to  return  by  way  of 
Hamburgh  to  Brunswick. 

A  long  and  painful  inquiry  into  the  princess's  conduct,  termed  "  The 
Delicate  Investigation,"  had  preceded  this  measure.  The  charge  was 
not  less  than  her  having  born  a  child  to  some  stranger.  This  the  Commit- 
tee of  the  Privy  Council  declared  to  be  altogether  unsustained,  but 
admitted  that  the  princess  had  been  singularly  careless  of  appearances. 

Long  preceding  this  unhappy  result  the  prince  had  been  pained  by  his 
Majesty's  direct  refusal  to  gratify  him  in  a  point  which  honourably  inte- 
rested his  personal  feelings.  The  threatened  invasion  of  England,  in 
1803,  had  summoned  the  nation  to  arms,  and  the  prince  justly  conceiving 
that  he  would  be  expected  to  signalize  his  spirit,  applied  to  the  throne 
for  some  military  command.  We  give  one  of  his  eloquent  and  manly 
letters  on  this  occasion. 

"  I  ask"— such  was  the  language  of  the  prince — "  to  be  allowed  to  display 
the  best  energies  of  my  character,  to  shed  the  last  drop  of  my  blood  in  support  of 
your  Majesty's  person,  crown,  and  dignity ;  for  this  is  not  a  war  for  empire, 
glory,  or  dominion,  but  for  existence.  In  this  contest,  the  lowest  and  humblest 
of  your  majesty's  subjects  have  been  called  on  :  it  would,  therefore,  little  become 
me,  who  am  the  first,  and  who  stand  at  the  very  footstool  of  the  throne,  to 
remain  a  tame,  an  idle,  and  a  lifeless  spectator  of  the  mischiefs  which  threaten 
us,  unconscious  of  the  dangers  which  surround  us,  and  indifferent  to  the  conse- 
quences which  may  follow.  Hanover  is  lost ;  England  is  menaced  with  inva- 
sion ;  Ireland  is  in  rebellion ;  Europe  is  at  the  foot  of  France.  At  such  a 
ftioment,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  yielding  to  none  of  your  servants  in  zeal  and  devo- 

B  2 


12  George  the  Fourth.  JULY 9 

tion — to  none  of  your  subjects  in  duty — to  none  of  your  children  in  tenderness 
and  affection— presumes  to  approach  you,  and  again  to  repeat  those  offers  which 
he  has  already  made  through  your  majesty's  ministers;  A  feeling  of  honest 
ambition,  a  sense  of  what  I  owe  to  myself  and  my  family,  and,  above  all,  the  fear 
of  sinking  in  the  estimation  of  that  gallant  army,  which  may  be  the  support  of 
your  majesty's  crown,  and  my  best  hope  hereafter,  command  me  to  persevere,  and 
to  assure  your  majesty,  with  all  humiliation  and  respect,  that,  conscious  of  the 
justice  of  my  claim,  no  human  power  can  ever  induce  me  to  relinquish  it. 

"  Allow  me  to  say,  Sir,  that  I  am  bound  to  adopt  this  line  of  conduct  by  every 
motive  dear  to  me  as  a  man,  and  sacred  to  me  as  a  prince.  Ought  I  not  to  come 
forward  in  a  moment  of  unexampled  difficulty  and  danger  ?  Ought  I  not  to 
share  in  the  glory  of  victory,  when  I  have  every  thing  to  lose  by  defeat  ?  The 
highest  places  in  your  majesty's  service  are  filled  by  the  younger  branches  of 
the  royal  family  ;  to  me  alone  no  place  is  assigned ;  I  am  not  thought  worthy  to 
be  even  the  junior  major-general  of  your  army.  If  I  could  submit  in  silence  to 
such  indignities,  I  should,  indeed,  deserve  such  treatment,  and  prove,  to  the 
satisfaction  of  your  enemies  and  my  own,  that  I  am  entirely  incapable  of  those 
exertions,  which  my  birth  and  the  circumstances  of  the  times  peculiarly  call  for. 
Standing  so  near  the  throne,  when  I  am  debased,  the  cause  of  royalty  is  wounded. 
I  cannot  sink  in  public  opinion  without  the  participation  of  your  majesty  in  my 
degradation.  Therefore,  every  motive  of  private  feeling  and  public  duty  induces 
me  to  implore  your  majesty  to  review  your  decision,  and  to  place  me  in  that 
situation  which  my  birth,  the  duties  of  my  station,  the  example  of  my  predeces- 
sors, and  the  expectations  of  the  people  of  England,  entitle  me  to  claim." 

The  request  was  sternly  refused,  and  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  re- 
fusal further  alienated  the  prince  from  his  sovereign.  But  all  discussion 
was  soon  to  be  forgotten,  in  an  event  of  the  most  afflicting  nature. 

George  the  Third  had  been  subject,  since  his  recovery  in  1789,  to 
relapses  of  short  duration,  and  it  is  understood  that  in  1804  he  was  for 
some  deprived  of  his  reason.  In  1810  it  became  necessary  to  communi- 
cate to  Parliament  the  undoubted  return  of  the  former  illness.  The 
question  of  the  regency  was  revived,  and  discussed  with  great  interest. 
The  proceedings  terminated  on  the  5th  February,  1811,  when  the  bill 
appointing  the  Prince  of  Wales  Regent,  under  a  number  of  restrictions, 
became  a  law.  The  restrictions  were  to  continue  till  the  1st  February, 
1812. 

As  the  opposition  to  the  restrictions  was  conducted  in  concert  with 
the  Prince,  some  surprise  was  manifested  at  his  continuance  of  the  Per- 
ceval Administration  in  office.  In  a  letter  which  was  published  at  the 
time,  his  Royal  Highness  apprised  Mr.  Perceval  te  that  the  irresistible 
impulse  of  filial  duty  and  affection  to  his  beloved  and  afflicted  father, 
led  him  to  dread  that  any  act  of  the  Regent  might,  in  the  smallest 
degree,  have  the  effect  of  interfering  with  the  progress  of  his  sovereign's 
recovery,  and  that  this  consideration  alone  dictated  the  decision  now  com- 
municated to  Mr.  Perceval." 

Yet  when  the  restrictions  on  the  Regency  expired,  the  Whigs  were 
destined  once  more  to  be  disappointed.  Perceval  was  retained  in  power, 
as  some  presumed,  by  Sheridan's  dislike  to  the  Greys  and  Grenvilles,  or 
as  others  by  the  express  desire  of  the  Queen ;  but  more  probably  by  the 
prince's  knowledge  of  their  domineering  spirit  and  their  national  unpo- 
pularity. 

On  the  29th  January  1820,  George  the  Third  departed  this  life,  and 
the  Prince  Regent,  who  had  exercised  the  sovereignty  with  restrictions 
since  1811,  and  without  restrictions  since  1812,  now  became  King.  By 
the  laws  of  this  country,  the  Queen  Consort  is  invested  with  certain 
rights  and  privileges,  and  much  anxiety  had  always  been  felt  with 
respect  to  the  period  when  it  would  become  necessary  for  the  wife  of 
the  sovereign  to  assert  her  rights.  It  was  feared  that  the  appearance  of 


1830.]  George  the  Fourth.  13 

the  Queen  in  England  would  be  the  signal  for  the  recommencement 
of  proceedings  for  which  a  foundation  was  laid  in  the  inquiries  insti- 
tuted on  the  Continent ;  and  from  the  unguarded  levity,  to  speak  in  the 
language  of  the  Commissioners,  which  belonged  to  her  character,  the 
reports  circulated  to  her  prejudice  led  many  persons  to  believe  that  she 
would  best  consult  her  safety  by  continuing  to  live  on  the  Continent. 

His  Majesty,  now  invested  with  royal  power,  displayed  his  disgust  to 
his  spouse  by  ordering  her  name  to  be  struck  out  of  the  liturgy.  To 
this  were  added,  offences  offered  to  her  by  the  English  foreign  diploma- 
tists. And  her  irritation  was  rapidly  inflamed  into  open  defiance. 

The  Queen  determined  on  returning  to  England.  She  had  wished, 
previously  to  taking  this  step,  to  consult  with  Mr.  Brougham,  (her  Attor- 
ney-General,) at  Geneva,  but  a  journey  of  such  length  was  incompatible 
with  his  other  engagements,  and  the  interview  was  fixed  at  Calais.  On 
the  intentions  of  the  Queen  being  communicated  to  Lord  Liverpool  ; 
who,  being  of  a  timorous  and  apprehensive  character,  dreaded  the  con- 
sequences of  her  return  ;  Lord  Hutchinson  was  selected  on  the  part  of 
the  Ministry,  to  repair  to  France,  and  endeavour  to  dissuade  her  Majesty 
from  taking  so  hazardous  a  step.  The  whole  country  was  in  com- 
motion. 

The  conduct  of  Ministers  in  the  whole  transaction  was  culpably 
feeble.  The  personal  disgust  of  the  King  had  urged  them  to  severity 
against  the  Queen.  The  angry  and  contemptuous  aspect  of  the  popu- 
lace frightened  them  into  the  abandonment  of  every  measure  of  justice 
and  wisdom. 

The  Bill  of  Pains  and  Penalties  was  introduced  by  Lord  Liverpool  on 
the  27th  June.  Her  Majesty  was  charged  with  adultery  with  Bar- 
tolomeo  Pergami  or  Bergami,  a  foreigner  of  low  station  in  her  service, 
and  the  penalties  were,  dissolution  of  the  marriage  and  deprivation  of 
her  title  and  rights. 

The  memorable  trial  of  the  Queen  now  commenced.  Into  the  details 
of  that  proceeding  it  is  impossible  here  to  enter.  At  the  time  addresses 
were  voted  to  her  Majesty  from  every  part  of  the  kingdom,  and  there 
was  no  limit  to  the  processions  which  took  place  to  the  Queen's  residence 
at  Brandenburgh  House.  In  fact,  the  whole  of  the  middle  and  lower 
orders  of  the  country  became  passionate  partizans  of  her  Majesty. 
There  are  periods  when  all  ordinary  motives  cease  to  act,  and  when 
men  disregard  all  sacrifices  to  which  their  couduct  may  expose  them. 
This  was  now  exemplified.  Tradesmen  disregarded  the  threats  of  the 
higher  ranks :  workmen  set  their  employers  at  defiance.  The  people 
scorned  the  King. 

The  bill  was  read  a  third  time  by  a  majority  of  only  nine.  This 
majority  was  not  deemed  by  Ministers  a  sufficient  justification  for  pro- 
ceeding further  with  the  Bill,  with  the  public  feeling  against  them.  The 
majority  had  been  diminished  by  the  objection  of  several  Peers  to  the 
Divorce  Clause,  against  which  Ministers  themselves  voted. 

The  concerns  of  the  empire  had  now  been  postponed  to  a  family  quar- 
rel. ,  The  ministry  had  been  defeated  by  a  woman  ;  the  parliament  had 
been  led  by  a  mob.  The  king  had  been  cast  from  his  height  by  a  low  con- 
spiracy of  Italian  valets  and  English  vagrants.  To  cover  this  defeat,  the 
coronation  was  ordered.  By  a  singular  destiny,  it  accomplished  all  its  pur- 
poses ;  it  pleased  the  populace,  who  were  dazzled  by  its  show  ;  it  pleased 
the  nation  as  a  splendid  novelty,  and  an  act  of  constitutional  homage ; 
and  it  extinguished  the  queen's  influence  for  ever.  It  was  even  the 
probable  cause  of  her  death.  She  had  first  demanded  to  be  crowned 


14  George  the  Four  (ft.  [\TuLY., 

with  the  king,  this  was  refused  by  the  privy  council  as  not  "  of  right." 
She  then  insisted  on  forcing  her  way  into  Westminster  Hall,  but  was 
repelled. 

The  coronation  passed  off  with  eclat,  and  the  Queen  vainly  strove  to 
conceal  her  chagrin.  Her  health  suffered  from  the  effort.  On  the  30th  of 
July,  whilst  at  Drury-lane  Theatre,  she  was  much  indisposed.  On  August 
the  7th,  her  life  was  terminated  by  inflammation  of  the  bowels,  which 
produced  mortification. 

In  the  midst  of  those  domestic  dissensions,  the  effect  of  personal  errors, 
the  country  had  gone  on  from  prosperity  to  prosperity,  the  result  of  the 
manly  policy  and  foresighted  wisdom  of  Pitt,  and  the  men  educated  in  his 
principles.  Napoleon  had  been  overthrown,  and  sent  a  prisoner  to  St. 
Helena,  where  he  died  in  1822.  Occasional  distress  tried  the  country, 
but  it  rose  with  astonishing  vigour  from  all  its  difficulties.  The  single 
exception  of  the  year  1 825,  the  year  of  the  ' (  panic,"  is  still  memorable 
for  its  shock  of  public  credit,  and  for  the  unexplained  cause  of  a  ruin, 
which  for  the  time  seemed  to  threaten  the  whole  financial  fabric  of  the 
empire.  Yet.  Lord  Liverpool,  cautious  and  temperate,  but  altogether  with- 
out commanding  powers  of  mind,  had  rather  held  the  ministry  together, 
than  governed  the  national  councils,  when  in  1827  he  fell  into  total 
paralysis  and  idiotcy. 

On  the  12th  of  April,  1827,  Canning  was  appointed  First  Commissioner 
of  the  Treasury  and  Premier.  His  supremacy  was  brief.  An  unlucky 
and  degrading  coalition  with  the  Whigs,  visited  him  with  public  indig- 
nation. His  spirit  was  sensitive ;  and  he  sank  under  the  blow.  A  cold 
caught  in  returning  from  Windsor  hastened  his  dissolution ;  and  on  the 
8th  of  August  of  the  same  year  he  died,  much  reviled  and  much  praised, 
but  pitied  more  than  either. 

But  the  firmest  ground  for  his  panegyric  was  furnished  by  the  con- 
trast that  followed  in  the  Goderich  Administration.  The  nation  cried 
out  against  this  most  feeble  of  all  cabinets.  It  was  less  broken  down  than 
shaken  to  pieces ;  and  after  a  few  months  of  abortive  experiment  and 
popular  ridicule,  it  was  haughtily  abolished  by  the  King,  and  its  wreck 
given  over  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington  to  compound  it  again  in  what 
manner  it  might  please  this  new  arbiter  of  the  fates  of  England.  The 
last  legislative  act  of  the  King  was  the  passing  of  the  Catholic  Question 
in  April,  1830 ;  an  act  of  which  we  will  not  trust  ourselves  to  speak; 
but  which  the  infinite  majority  of  the  empire  looked  upon  as  the  most 
formidable  and  fatal  exercise  of  the  royal  privilege,  and  which  the  apostate 
minister  who  was  its  chief  advocate,  self-convicted,  pronounced  to  be  a 
"  breach  of  the  Constitution." 

The  details  of  his  late  Majesty's  illness  have  been  long  before  the  public. 
His  first  attack  was  in  March  last,  from  which  he  partially  recovered.  But 
<on  the  15th  of  April,  the  first  bulletin  was  issued,  announcing  an  affection 
•of  the  chest  and  lungs.  The  disease  gradually  became  a  disease  of  the 
heart.  The  extraordinary  vigour  of  his  frame  struggled  long  against 
a  distemper,  which  for  the  last  month  was  known  to  be  mortal.  At 
length  the  struggle  was  terminated  by  a  cough  which  exhausted  his 
strength,  and  on  Saturday,  June  26,  at  a  quarter  past  three  in  the  morning 
his  Majesty  died,  fortunately,  without  pain.  In  this  melancholy  detail, 
our  only  gratification  is  to  be  able  to  say,  that  for  some  time  past,  his 
Majesty's  mind  had  been  turned  to  subjects  of  higher  import  than  earth 
can  offer ;  that  he  took  an  interest  in  religion,  and  often  spent  the  in- 
tervals between  his  pangs  in  prayer. 


1830.]'  [     15     ] 

THE  ART  OF    BOOK-KEEPING. 

How  hard,  when  those  who  do  not  wish 
To  lend,  that's  Jose,  their  books, 

Are  snared  by  anglers— folks  that  fish 
With  literary  hooks; 

Who  call  and  take  some  favourite  tome, 

But  never  read  it  through  ; 
They  thus  complete  their  set  at  home, 

By  making  one  at  you. 

Behold  the  book-shelf  of  a  dunce 

Who  borrows — never  lends ; 
Yon  work,  in  twenty  volumes,  once 

Belonged  to  twenty  friends. 

New  tales  and  novels  you  may  shut 

From  view— 'tis  all  in  vain ; 
They're  gone — and  though  the  leaves  are  "  cut," 

They  never  "  come  again." 

For  pamphlets  lent  I  look  around, 

For  tracts  my  tears  are  spilt ; 
But  when  they  take  a  book  that's  bound, 

'Tis  surely  extra-guilt. 

A  circulating  library 

Is  mine — my  birds  are  flown  ; 
There's  one  odd  volume  left,  to  be 
Like  all  the  rest,  a-lone. 

I,  of  my  tf  Spencer"  quite  bereft, 

Last  winter  sore  was  shaken  ; 
Of  "  Lamb"  I've  but  a  quarter  left, 

Nor  could  I  save  my  "  Bacon." 

My  "  Hall"  and  «  Hill"  were  levelled  Hat, 
But  "  Moore"  was  still  the  cry; 

And  then,  although  I  threw  them  "  Sprat," 
They  swallowed  up  my  "  Pye." 

O'er  every  thing,  however  slight, 
They  seized  some  airy  trammel ; 

They  snatched  my  "  Hogg"  and  "  Fox"  one  night, 
And  pocketed  my."  Campbell." 

And  then  I  saw  my  "  Crabbe"  at  last, 

Like  Hamlet's,  backward  go ; 
And  as  my  tide  was  ebbing  fast, 

Of  course  I  lost  my  "  Howe." 

I  wondered  into  what  balloon 

My  books  their  course  had  bent ; 
And  yet,  with  all  my  marvelling,  soon 
I  found  my  "  Marvell"  went. 

My  "  Mallet"  served  to  knock  me  down, 
Which  makes  me  thus  a  talker ; 

And  once,  while  I  was  out  of  town, 
My  "  Johnson"  proved  a  Walker. 


T/tc  Arl  of  nook-Keeping.  [JULY, 

While  studying  o'er  the  fire  one  day 

My  "  Ilobbes,"  amidst  the  smoke  ; 
They  hore  my  "  Colman"  clean  away, 

And  carried  off  my  tf  Coke." 

Tliey  picked  my  "  Locke,"  to  me  far  more 

Than  Bram all's  patent's  worth  ; 
And  now  my  losses  I  deplore 

Without  a  "  Home"  on  earth. 

If  once  a  book  you  let  them  lift, 

Another  they  conceal ; 
For  though  I  caught  them  stealing  «  Swift," 

As  swiftly  went  my  "  Steele." 

"  Hope"  is  not  now  upon  my  shelf, 

Where  late  he  stood  elated ; 
But,  what  is  strange,  my  ((  Pope"  himself 

Is  excommunicated. 

My  little  "  Suckling"  in  the  grave 

Is  sunk,  to  swell  the  ravage ; 
And  what  'twas  Crusoe's  fate  to  save 

'Twos  mine  to  lose — a  "  Savage." 

Even  "  Glover's"  works  I  cannot  put 

My  frozen  hands  upon ; 
Though  ever  since  I  lost  my  ' '  Foote," 

My  "  Bunyan"  has  been  gone. 

My  "  Hoyle"  with  "  Cotton"  went;— oppressed, 

My  "  Taylor"  too  must  fail ; 
To  save  my  "  Goldsmith"  from  arrest, 

In  vain  I  offered  "  Bayle." 

I  "  Prior"  sought,  but  could  not  see 

The  "  Hood"  so  late  in  front; 
And  when  I  turned  to  hunt  for  "  Lee," 

Oh  !  where  was  my  "  Leigh  Hunt?" 

I  tried  to  laugh,  old  Care  to  tickle, 

Yet  could  not  "  TickelT  touch  ; 
And  then,  alack  !  I  missed  my  "  Mickle"— 

And  surely  Mickle's  much. 

'Tis  quite  enough  my  griefs  to  feed, 

My  sorrows  to  excuse, 
To  think  I  cannot  read  my  tc  Reid," 

Nor  even  use  my  "  Hughes." 

To  "  West,"  to  "  South,"  I  turn  my  head, 

Exposed  alike  to  odd  jeers ; 
For  since  my  "  Roger  Ascham's"  fled, 

I  ask  'em  for  my  '*  Rogers." 

There's  sure  an  eye  that  marks  as  well 

The  blossom  as  the  sparrow ; 
Yet  all  unseen  my  "  Lyly"  fell— 

Twas  taken  in  my  "  Barrow." 


1830.]  The  Art  of  Book-Keeping.  17 

They  took  my  "  Home"— and  «  Home  Tooke"  too ; 

And  thus  my  treasures  flit. 
I  feel,  when  1  would  "  Hazlitt"  view, 

The  flames  that  it  has  lit. 

My  word's  worth  little,  "  Wordsworth"  gone, 

If  I  survive  its  doom  ; 
Haw  many  a  bard  I  doated  on 

Was  swept  off— with  my  <l  Broome  !** 

My  classics  would  not  quiet  lie, 

A  thing  so  fondly  hoped  : 
Like  Doctor  Primrose,  I  may  cry, 

"  My  f  Livy'  has  eloped  !' 

My  life  is  wasting  fast  away — 

I  suffer  from  these  shocks  ; 
And  though  I've  fixed  a  lock  on  "  Gray," 

There's  grey  upon  my  locks. 

I'm  far  from  "  Young"— am  growing  pale— 

I  see  my  (e  Butler"  fly  ; 
And  when  they  ask  about  my  ail, 

"  'Tis  <  Burton' !"  I  reply. 

They  still  have  made  me  slight  returns, 

And  thus  my  griefs  divide ; 
For,  oh  !  they've  cured  me  of  my  "  Burns," 

And  eased  my  "  Akenside." 

But  all  I  think  I  shall  not  say, 

Nor  let  my  anger  burn; 
For  as  they  never  found  me  "  Gay," 

They  have  not  left  me  "  Sterne"." 

B. 


EUROPE,  AND  THE  HORSE-GUARDS'  CABINET. 

WE  are  anything  but  croakers  Not  the  veriest  worshipper  of  ministers 
ever  confided  more  in  the  strength  of  England  ;  not  the  most  indefatigable 
hunter  of  the  Field-Marshal's  place-giving,  power-giving,  and  all  but 
divine  presence,  ever  more  eagerly  believed  that  England,  left  to  herself, 
was  worth  the  world  beside ;  and  yet  for  the  soul  of  us  we  cannot  smile. 
There  are  the  same  number  of  cards  dropped  daily  at  Mr.  Goulburn's 
hall-door :  the  patronage  of  ministry,  down  even  to  such  splendid  up* 
holders  of  the  national  councils  as  Mr  Backhouse  in  his  den,  and  Mr. 
Dawson  everywhere,  is  undishonoured  by  the  secession  of  a  single  appli- 
cant: Billy  Holmes  courses  the  clubs,  coffee-rooms,  and  whatever 
other  rooms,  by  whatever  more  delicate  name  they  may  be  called,  whip 
in  hand,  with  the  same  ardour,  activity,  and  success,  as  at  any  time  since 
Sir  Robert  Peel's  last  pledge  :  in  short,  every  thing  goes  on  in  the  most 
brilliant,  breast-high,  and  prosperous  way,  according  to  the  Downing- 
street  vocabulary,  and  yet,  for  the  soul  of  us,  we  cannot  smile. 

'Tis  true  that  we  have  the  greatest  ministry  that  ever  took  pen  in  hand, 
M  M.  New  Se.'ies.—VoL.  X.  No.  55.  C 


18  Europe,  and  the  Horse-Guards'  Cabinet.  |~JuLY, 

ever  flourished  a  daily  paragraph  in  a  daily  paper,  drew  their  salaries, 
half-pay,  full-pay,  allowances,  and  all  with  official  punctuality,  laid  on  a 
tax,  defended  a  sinecure,  were  burlesqued  in  the  house,  or  hated  in  all 
houses  beside.  'Tis  true  that  we  have  at  its  head  the  greatest  orator, 
financier,  diplomatist,  and  letter-writer  that  ever  existed — a  luminary  at 
once  to  lighten  the  darkness  of  Britain,  and  flash  terror  in  the  eyes  of 
submissive  Europe.  'Tis  true  that  he  has  compiled  to  aid  him,  if  such 
powers  can  by  possibility  require  aid,  a  cabinet  composed  of  the  most 
unquestionably  able,  pure,  and  public-minded  personages  that  ever  were 
charged  with  Apostacy  ;  that  he  has  at  his  foot  the  manliness,  candour, 
and  official  dignity  of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  whom,  we  with  pain  observe,  the 
public  are  determined  to  call  Sir  Robert  Blifil ;  that  he  commands,  soul 
and  body,  the  personal  virtue,  honourable  independence,  and  pro- 
fessional learning  of  Lord  Lyndhurst,  with  a  long  et  cetera  of  official 
underlings,  (we  beg  pardon  for  the  word,  but  our  language  is  not  rich 
in  diplomacy,)  the  close  copies  of  their  talents  and  virtues.  Still  we  find, 
that  the  infinite  consolation  of  this  knowledge  does  not  penetrate  us  ;  and 
that  if  we  were  inclined  to  express  the  words  that  burst  to  our  lips,  we 
should  pronounce  the  aspect  of  public  affairs  mortifying,  degrading,  and 
hazardous ;  and  the  only  remedy  for  the  evil  hour,  the  instant  expulsion 
of  a  ministry  whom  we  alternately  pity  and  scorn,  hate  and  despise. 

The  Duke  of  Wellington  has  not  the  talents  for  governing  the  country. 
This  is  the  fact,  no  matter  in  what  terms  it  may  be  told.  No  man  may 
be  fitter  to  make  soldiers  march  and  fight,  though  there  has  at  no  time 
been  much  required  in  the  general  to  make  the  British  soldier  do  all 
this:  he  had  done  it  long  before  the  Duke  of  Wellington  was  born,  and 
we  trust  that  he  will  do  it  again,  long  after  the  Duke  may  be  where  his 
love  of  office  at  least  will  trouble  him  no  more.  But  the  Minister  has  not 
ability  enough  to  govern  this  country,  nor  any  other.  We  are  to  be 
duped  no  longer  by  the  glitter  of  epaulettes  or  the  nonsense  of  Horse- 
Guards'  language.  What  is  it  to  us  how  many  lazy  sons  of  lazy  lords  may 
be  on  his  pension-list,  or  how  many  hungry  general  officers  may  levy  him 
for  commands  in  the  colonies  ?  We  want  a  minister  who  will  exhibit 
some  depth  of  view,  some  knowledge  of  the  principles  by  which  alone 
great  and  free  communities  have  been  and  are  to  be  sustained,  some  de- 
cision in  public  emergencies,  some  originality  and  manly  sagacity  in 
devising  relief  for  the  casualties  of  the  state.  We  ask  of  the  whole 
race  of  ministerial  panegyrists,  of  the  hired  and  the  willing  to  be  hired,  of 
the  battalion  of  sinecurists,  of  the  whole  host  of  nightly  applauders  of 
the  Home  Secretary's  speeches,  can  they  answer  those  demands? — 
where  is  the  single  measure  of  the  Minister  on  which  they  can  lay  their 
finger  as  an  answer  to  any  one  of  those  requisitions  ? 

We  pass  over  the  figure  which  the  Minister  himself  makes  in  the  Lords. 
We  shall  suffer  his  worshippers  or  his  burlesquers  to  pronounce  it  digni- 
fied, rational,  and  self-possessed :  let  them  have  the  full  benefit  of  his 
style  as  a  model  of  statesman-like  elocution,  and  of  his  manners  as 
the  perfection  of  statesman-like  temper. — But  we  turn  to  more 
tangible  things.  We  demand  what  relief  has  the  Premier  dis- 
covered for  any  one  of  the  public  pressures  ?  What  has  he  done 
for  Coin,  Corn,  or  Commerce  ;  those  great  principles  of  life  in  our 
struggling  country?  Has  he  devised  one  salutary  measure?  or  has  he 
been  able  to  conceive  any  measure  whatever  ?  Has  he  not  left  the 
remedy  to  what  he  calls  the  work  of  time ;  but  what  every  body  else 


1830.]  Europe,  and  the  Horse-Guards'  Cabinet.  19 

calls  the  blundering  work  of  intellects  puzzled  by  the  commonest  pro- 
blems of  public  life  ?  The  irresistible  fact  is,  that  all  the  great  questions 
lie  at  this  moment  in  the  state  in  which  the  Field-Marshal  Minister 
found  them  at  his  accession;  that  he  has  not  exhibited  the  slightest 
power  to  alter  their  shape,  or  bring  them  within  the  grasp  of  legislation  ; 
that  in  the  few  attempts  which  he  has  made,  failure  has  been  the  instant 
consequence ;  and  that  the  system  of  sitting  with  folded  arms,  and  waiting 
for  chance,  has  at  length  been  established  as  a  principle.  It  is  doubtless 
the  easiest  way  of  getting  through  the  world.  The  globe  will  roll  on, 
though  ten  cabinets  were  asleep  round  the  military  Minister ;  the  day  of 
salaries  will  come  every  three  months,  even  though  the  minister  were 
bathed  in  laudanum ;  and  if  the  session  can  but  be  once  got  over,  there 
will  be  six  months  secure,  undisturbed  by  the  sarcasms  of  parliament, 
and  as  smooth  as  the  prognostics  of  the  pious  Mr.  Goulburn,  or  the 
eternal  smile  of  Sir  Robert  Blifil  Peel. 

But  there  is  a  time  for  all  things,  and  the  time  for  opening  our  eyes 
has  come.  We  are  sick  of  this  perpetual  display  of  insolent  pretension 
and  empty  performance,  of  this  ostentatious  boast  of  ability  and  tacit 
acknowledgment  of  helplessness.  Parliament  is  beginning  to  feel  that 
it  has  other  things  to  do  than  listen  night  after  night  to  the  men  of  me- 
diocrity, who,  after  having  been  lifted  from  clerkships  into  the  cabinet, 
show  that  their  natural  designation  was  the  Desk,  and  that  the  most 
glowing  passion  for  Sinecures  may  be  consistent  with  the  most  pitiful 
exercise  of  the  understanding.  A  great  party  is  rapidly  forming.  Men 
of  all  varieties  of  opinion  upon  the  minute  points  of  polity  are  coerced 
by  the  force  of  circumstances  into  one  leading  opinion  of  the  necessity 
of  crushing  the  cabinet  of  the  clerks.  Whig  and  Tory  are  names  gone 
by.  The  cabinet  has  extinguished  all  distinctions.  The  party  of  the 
country  is  the  only  name  that  will  be  henceforth  acknowledged ;  and, 
without  compromising  personal  feelings  or  old  principles,  without  stain- 
ing any  man  by  the  imputation  of  acting  like  the  Blijils,  and  flinging  off 
at  an  hour's  notice  principles  and  feelings  avowed  during  a  life ;  that 
great  party  will  be  formed,  which  alone  can  save  the  country  from  the 
Cabinet  of  Corporals ! 

We  demand,  where  is  the  proof  that  the  Premier  is  a  fit  man  to  guide 
the  councils  of  the  empire  ?  Let  us  look  over  the  catalogue  of  his 
diplomatic  triumphs.  And  first  of  Russia.  His  declared  policy  was  to 
sustain  Turkey  against  Russia.  He  loftily  quoted  Pitt's  opinion  on  it, 
— "  That  the  man  who  doubted  the  infinite  importance  of  supporting 
Turkey  was  not  worthy  to  be  reasoned  with."  He  pledged  his  political 
faith  upon  the  protection  of  the  Turkish  dominions  against  a  Russian 
war.  And  how  did  he  fulfil  his  pledge  ?  England,  with  chagrin  and 
astonishment,  saw  her  most  dangerous  rival  suffered  to^take  her  course 
in  contempt  of  remonstrance  ;  saw  her  rush  into  the  heart  of  the  Otto- 
man territory,  in  the  teeth  of  our  ambassador's  representations,  which 
Russia  despised  as  they  deserved  ;  saw  her  reduce  our  ally  to  vassalage, 
and  raise  herself  to  the  summit  of  European  power  ! 

Now  for  another  example.  France  decided  upon  the  invasion  of 
Greece.  The  measure  was  obviously  hazardous  to  the  natural  influence 
of  England.  It  might  be  for  the  permanent  seizure  of  territory ;  it 
might  be  for  the  seizure  of  the  Ionian  Islands,  or  for  the  final  occupation 
of  Egypt  and  the  route  to  India.  The  Premier  wrote  to  the  French 
ministry,  remonstrating  against  the  invasion.  The  French  ministry 

C  2 


20  Europe,  and  the  Horse- Guards'  Cabinet. 

laughed  at  the  letter  and  its  writer,  sent  out  their  expedition,  walked 
over  Greece,  and  would  have  been  masters  of  it  till  this  moment,  but  for 
the  volatility  of  the  national  character,  which  found  a  more  tempting 
conquest  in  the  attack  on  the  Barbary  States.  So  much  for  the  diplo- 
macy of  the  Premier. 

Now  for  another  example.  Portugal  was  laid  under  ban ;  Don  Mi- 
guel was  declared  an  outlaw  by  the  diplomatic  honesty  of  the  cabinet. 
Yet  did  we  see  Don  Miguel  creeping  to  the,  foot  of  the  Downing-street 
throne,  or  Portugal  soliciting  law  from  the  British  fount  of  national  ju- 
risprudence ?  The  Don  laughed  at  us ;  the  Portuguese  scoffed  at  our 
interference :  they  exiled  our  friends ;  they  entered  into  correspondence 
with  our  enemies ;  they  burlesqued  our  little  pageant  of  a  little  queen ; 
they  finally  forced  us  to  send  her  back  to  her  nursery  at  the  same  mo- 
ment when  they  forced  us  to  send  them  a  minister  under  the  name  of  a 
consul;  and,  at  this  hour,  the  only  tie  which  prevents  Portugal  from 
abandoning  our  connexion  altogether  is  its  own  interest — our  paying 
it  the  most  exorbitant  price  for  the  worst  wine  in  the  world. 

We  have  now  gone  the  whole  range  of  British  foreign  alliance,  with 
but  one  exception  ;  and  there,  too,  we  have  been  baffled  and  turned  to 
ridicule.  Need  we  name  Austria,  and  the  negotiations  with  Prince 
Metternich  relative  to  the  Greek  sovereignty  ?  Lord  Aberdeen  makes  a 
brilliant  figure  in  those  transactions :  yet  what  is  Lord  Aberdeen  but  the 
mouth-piece  of  the  Premier  ? — or  does  any  man,  capable  of  knowing  his 
right  hand  from  his  left,  believe  that  this  Scotch  Peer  and  Reviewer  ven- 
tures to  stir  a  step  but  by  word  of  command  ?  We  ask,  has  Austria  been 
sincere  ?  No  man  will  believe  any  thing  of  the  kind.  We  ask,  has  not  the 
British  cabinet  been  duped  ?  Every  man  believes  that  it  has.  Has  not 
the  Premier  himself  been  foiled  even  by  Prince  Leopold  ?  Has  he  not 
been  pledged,  and  committed,  and  recommitted  ?  and  is  not  his  whole 
sagacity  now  worthily  employed  in  backing  out  of  the  whole  transaction  ? 
Not  the  softest  smile  that  ever  thawed  the  ice  of  Sir  Robert  Blifil  Peel's 
official  tisage,  not  the  most  sanctified  glance  that  the  saintly  Mr.  Goul- 
burn  ever  threw  up  to  heaven  in  the  paroxysm  of  an  anti-catholic  ha- 
rangue, would  now  shake  our  convictions  that  the  Minister  has  been 
defeated  on  every  point  of  his  boasted  foreign  policy. 

The  state  of  Europe  is  at  this  moment  the  most  singular  in  the  annals 
of  diplomacy.  There  is  no  war ;  but  there  is  no  peace.  There  is  no 
rebellion  ;  but  there  is  no  obedience.  There  is  no  revolution  ;  but  every 
continental  throne  trembles.  A  popular  spirit  of  insuborcjination  has 
arisen,  without  a  popular  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  ratibnal  liberty; 
and  all  Europe  is  fevered  by  a  restless  anxiety  for  rights  which  none  of 
all  its  monarchies  can  concede  without  ruin,  and  none  of  its  nations  can 
possess  without  a  total  change  of  the  habits,  laws,  and  feelings  of  the 
people. 

In  such  a  crisis,  the  rank  of  England  ought  to  be  conspicuous.  She 
ought  to  take  the  lead,  by  little  less  than  a  law  of  nature,  when  intelli- 
gence, freedom,  and  religion  are  the  objects  of  discussion.  Her  great 
instrument  of  dominion  is  mental ;  and,  in  the  struggle  of  opinion,  all 
nations  would  instinctively  bow  to  the  acknowledged  supremacy  of  the 
first  intellectual  nation  of  the  world.  But,  thanks  to  the  wisdom  which 
has  thrown  us  into  the  hands  of  a  military  cabinet,  no  nation  now 
appeals  to  us  for  any  other  decision  but  that  of  the  sword ;  and  as  we 
cannot  fight  everywhere,  nor  call  every  question  to  the  arbitration  of  the 


1830.]  Europe,  and  the  Horse-Guards'  Cabinet.  21 

Horse  Guards,  the  European  nations  follow  their  own  career,  without 
caring  whether  we  exist.  The  Russian  war  has  sunk  our  name  as  pro- 
tectors of  the  weak  ;  and,  unless  the  exigencies  of  some  foreign  cabinet 
require  a  loan,  England  is  as  remote  from  their  thoughts  as  the  most 
mushroom  republic  of  Columbia.  But  the  storm  will  come.  It  is  ga- 
thering in  every  quarter  of  the  horizon.  What  is  the  condition  of  that 
monarchy  in  whose  fate  England  must  be  always  most  vitally  interested  ? 
France  is  now  running  the  race  that  England  ran  in  the  days  of  Charles  I. 
The  struggle  is  no  longer  between  parties  in  the  state,  between  ministers 
and  their  political  opponents,  but  between  monarchy  and  the  people. 
The  popular  leaders  have  already  set  their  public  existence  upon  the  die, 
have  openly  resisted  the  king  in  parliament,  and  have  been  openly 
branded  with  the  king's  displeasure.  The  legislature  has  been  dissolved 
— a  virtual  declaration  that  it  was  either  incapable  of  its  functions,  or 
determined  to  exercise  them  contrary  to  the  government — that  it  was 
either  imbecile  or  hostile. 

The  representatives  have  accordingly  been  scattered  through  France. 
More  dexterity  would  have  kept  them  together  in  the  capital ;  would 
have  exhausted  them  by  perpetual  discussions  upon  trivial  subjects;  would 
have  entangled  them  in  the  ministerial  meshes  until  they  grew  weary  of 
debate,  and  the  people  grew  weary  of  the  debaters,  until  one  half  turned 
courtiers,  and  the  other  half,  in  the  eagerness  to  escape  from  the  heat,  the 
expense,  and  the  ennui  of  Paris,  had  given  way  to  any  measures  of  the 
minister  But  the  fates  of  France  have  ordained  it  otherwise.  In  the 
moment  when  their  irritation  was  at  the  highest  pitch,  when  the  popular 
effervescence  was  rising  to  its  height,  and  when  the  king  was  most  ob- 
noxious to  national  opinion,  the  deputies  have  been  scattered  through 
every  corner  of  France,  like  the  fragments  of  an  exploded  shell,  to  spread 
popular  animosity. 

The  fullest  success  of  the  Algerine  expedition  will  not  extinguish  this 
universal  discontent.  Its  failure  may  precipitate  the  collision  ;  and  the 
ministry  must  be  sacrificed  to  save  the  throne.  But  the  public  feeling  is 
too  deep,  too  fierce,  and  too  sternly  supplied  by  the  materials  of  national 
tumult,  to  be  reached  by  the  trivial  influence  of  foreign  temporary  triumphs 
or  failures.  The  spirit  of  France  is  not  republican ;  for  every  man  of 
common  competence  in  France  who  pronounces  the  name  of  the  Revolu- 
tion pronounces  it  with  fear.  The  days  of  Robespierre  are  still  a  chro- 
nicle of  blood  to  the  French  mind.  But  the  spirit  of  France  is  a  spirit  of 
change.  The  evil  glitter  of  the  empire  still  dazzles  the  national  eye. 
The  terrors  and  shames  that  Napoleon  brought  upon  his  people  are  for- 
gotten in  the  sight  of  the  trophies  that  have  been  suffered  to  remain 
among  them.  Even  the  column  in  the  Place  de  Vendome,  with  its 
haughty  inscription  of  the  conquest  of  Austria  in  a  three  months'  war, 
inflames  the  original  rashness  of  the  most  war-loving  people  in  existence. 
The  names  of  the  Parisian  streets  are  stimulants  to  war;  Napoleon's 
fame  is  living  in  a  thousand  public  recollections ;  and  the  last  tremen- 
dous blow  that  crushed  him  and  his  empire  has  less  broken  down  the 
strength  of  France,  than  stimulated  and  fevered  its  singular  native 
energies  for  once  again  ascending  to  the  summit  of  European  fame. 

But  war  will  not  be  the  first  experiment  of  France.  She  feels  herself 
too  keenly  watched  by  the  great  continental  powers.  She  has  received  a 
lesson  of  her  true  strength  too  recently,  to  dare  the  desperate  waste,  the 
continued  misery,  and  the  certain  ruin  of  an  attack  on  the  continent.  A 


22  Europe,  and  the  Horse- Guards'  Cabinet.  [\JuLYj 

new  illusion  has  been  prepared  for  her.  The  vision  of  political  perfecti- 
bility has  been  summoned  up  from  the  depths  where  it  has  lain  for  almost 
half  a  century,  to  delude,  dazzle,  and  madden  France.  Politics,  not 
war ;  constitution,  not  conquest ;  the  equal  freedom  of  all  creeds,  not 
atheism  by  law  ;  the  utmost  discountenancing  of  all  the  adventitious  di- 
stinctions of  birth,  office,  and  title,  yet  not  the  abolition  of  ranks,  nor  re- 
publican licence,  are  now  the  principles  of  the  French  patriots  ;  yet  they 
are  dreams,  and  in  France,  of  all  countries  on  the  globe,  they  are  least 
capable  of  being  realized.  They  were  the  dreams  of  France  in  1789,  of 
the  States-General,  of  the  National  Assembly,  of  Lally  Tolendal,  of 
Neckar,  and  even  of  the  unfortunate  Louis  XVI.  Then  the  dreamers 
were  roused  from  their  sleep,  like  the  dreamers  in  a  storm  ;  and,  for  the 
festive  faces  and  brilliant  lights  of  their  fantastic  banquet,  they  saw  round 
them  the  elements  let  loose,  the  royal  ship  tossed  on  a  sea  of  darkness, 
the  thunders  roaring  above,  the  wave  of  blood  rolling  beneath,  the 
vessel  loosening  under  their  tread  ;  until  the  last  struggle  came,  and  all 
went  down. 

The  philosophy,  the  religion,  the  politics,  and  the  public  opinion,  of 
France,  have,  at  this  moment,  the  strongest  resemblance  to  those  of  the 
age  of  Voltaire.  The  mummeries  of  the  popish  worship  are  as  much 
scoffed  at ;  the  affectation  of  superiority  to  "  all  that  the  priest  and  that 
the  nurse  have  taught,"  is  still  as  much  a  matter  of  pride  ;  the  corruption 
of  manners  among  the  higher  orders  is  not  more  restrained ;  and  the  only 
difference  seems  to  be,  that  the  absurdity  of  politics  has  superseded  the 
absurdity  of  "  philosophy ;"  that  the  clergy,  impoverished  and  degraded 
by  being  made  pensioners  of  the  state,  are  still  less  fitted  to  resist  the 
torrent  of  scepticism  ;  that  the  nobility,  broken  by  emigration  and  the 
loss  of  their  hereditary  privileges  and  revenues,  are  still  less  fitted  to  stand 
as  a  barrier  against  popular  encroachment ;  that  the  professions,  deprived 
of  their  offices  and  ancient  connexion  with  the  court,  now  universally  look 
to  the  popular  interest  for  support ;  and  that  the  popular  interest,  formed 
of  an  immense  body  of  actual  proprietors  of  land,  distributed  among  them, 
by  the  revolutionary,  has  been  strengthened  tenfold  by  its  actual  wealth 
and  independence,  and  fiftyfold  by  the  relative  extinction  of  all  the  great 
bodies,  the  princely,  noble,  and  ecclesiastical  interests,  that  once  formed 
the  outworks  of  the  throne. 

The  future  can  alone  decide  the  new  shape  which  those  materials  of 
national  evil  will  take ;  but  we  may  be  fully  assured,  that,  the  Horse- 
Guards'  Cabinet  will  be  impotent  during  the  whole  progress  of  the  trans- 
action ;  that  it  will  remonstrate  and  be  laughed  at,  and  suffer  itself  to  be 
laughed  at ;  and  that  it  will  console  itself  for  the  contempt  in  thc!  cer- 
tainty that,  let  the  world  roll  as  it  will,  quarter-day  will  come  round. 

Russia  is  contemptuous,  cool,  and  indefatigably  alive  to  her  own  ag- 
grandisement. Having  commenced  the  Turkish  war  in  defiance  of 
England,  she  has  concluded  it  in  scorn  of  Europe.  She  has  gained  still 
more  by  treaty  than  she  could  have  gained  by  arms ;  and  now  having 
secured  the  head  of  the  Euxine,  and  planted  her  garrisons  in  Armenia, 
she  has  only  to  mature  her  strength,  and  be  successively  mistress  of  the 
Euxine,  the  Dardanelles,  and  the  Mediterranean.  Her  Asiatic  prospects 
are  unlimited.  The  whole  of'Tartary,  up  to  the  wall  of  China,  is  either 
in  her  grasp,  or  in  her  influence.  With  two  great  provinces  of  Northern 
Persia  in  her  possession,  she  has  the  whole  Persian  empire  at  her  mercy. 
The  first  popular  tumult,  or  disputed  succession,  will  give  her  an  excuse 


1830.]  Europe,  and  the  Horse-Guards'  Cabinet.  23 

for  invasion,  and  the  next  peace  will  be  dictated  from  the  Persian  capi- 
tal. Persia,  once  broken  down,  and  she  may  be  broken  down  within 
the  next  half  dozen  years,  the  route  to  India  is  open.  Even  at  this  mo- 
ment the  Czar  could  send  troops  to  the  Indian  frontier  sooner  than  a 
British  regiment  could  reach  it  from  Calcutta.  Russia  is  already  the 
arbiter  of  Asia.  But  her  power  in  Europe,  if  less  direct,  is  scarcely  less 
irresistible.  Sweden  was  once  her  check  ;  it  is  now  all  but  her  vassal. 
The  reigning  prince  holds  his  authority  only  by  her  permission.  And  the 
successor  of  that  prince  must  bargain  for  his  crown  with  Russia,  or  see 
the  son  of  the  exiled  king  return,  and  himself  driven  out  to  wander 
through  Europe. 

Poland,  the  old  counterpoise  of  Russia,  is  now  her  slave.  A  Russian 
viceroy  lords  it  over  the  ancient  lords  of  Cracow  and  Warsaw,  and  the 
knout  performs  the  office  of  the  sceptre. 

With  Prussia  her  influence  is  of  the  strongest  kind.  The  policy  of 
finding  a  protector  against  Austria,  had  always  made  a  Russian  alliance 
popular  in  Prussia.  But  since  the  infamous  partition  of  Poland,  Prus- 
sia, touching  upon  the  Russian  frontier,  feels  the  stimulant,  at  once,  of 
hope  and  fear  urging  her  to  the  closest  connexion  with  the  politics  of  the 
court  of  St.  Petersburgh.  Family  ties  have  added  to  the  force  of  this 
mutual  interest ;  and,  in  the  event  of  a  continental  war,  the  whole  power 
of  Prussia  must  be  thrown  into  the  scale  of  the  Czar. 

The  influence  of  England  was  once  all-powerful  with  Prussia.  The 
latter  years  of  the  French  war  had  united  the  two  Courts  in  sentiments 
of  the  strongest  cordiality  :  but  this  feeling  has  been  superseded  by  the 
overpowering  pressure  of  Russian  interests.  The  first  manifesto  of  Russia 
against  this  country  would  be  followed  by  a  Prussian  declaration  of  war. 

The  kingdom  of  the  Netherlands,  which  the  Castlereagh  cabinet  actu- 
ally erected,  and  which  is  bound  by  the  very  tenure  of  its  existence  to 
England,  is  yet  the  perpetual  object  of  Russian  intrigue.  The  marriage 
of  the  Prince  of  Orange  to  the  sister  of  the  Czar,  was  but  a  part  of  the 
system  of  binding  the  Netherlands  to  Russia.  In  the  event  of  hostilities 
between  England  and  Russia,  if  the  first  object  of  the  Netherlands  were 
not  neutrality,  the  Russian  councils  would  be  the  law  of  the  land. 

But  a  still  more  striking  proof  of  the  imbecility  of  the  present  cabinet 
of  Great  Britain  is  to  be  found  in  the  general  confusion  and  restless  tur- 
bulence that  now  form  the  characteristic  of  the  European  governments. 
The  substantial  policy  of  England  is  universal  peace ;  she  can  reap  no 
harvests  from  fields  strewed  only  with  the  ruins  of  national  prosperity ; 
her  commerce  shrinks  from  regions  where  tyranny  and  popular  turbu- 
lence hold  the  alternate  scourge.  Her  strength  is  in  the  strength  ot 
each,  and  her  opulence  in  the  wealth  of  all.  Her  supreme  interest  is  in 
the  quiet,  the  virtue,  and  the  good  government  of  all  nations.  And  yet, 
at  this  hour  there  is  scarcely  a  nation  of  Europe  in  which  the  conflict  of 
kingly  fear  and  popular  tumult  is  not  either  in  preparation  or  actually 
begtfn.  Of  France  we  have  already  spoken.  The  whole  country  is  in 
a  state  of  public  emotion,  unequalled  since  the  Reign  of  Terror.  The 
whole  vast  district  of  the  Vendee  is  agitated  by  political  tumult, 
giving  expression  to  itself  not  simply  in  election  harangues  and  mob- 
violence,  but  in  the  most  extraordinary  defiance  of  the  armed  power  of 
the  State,  in  assassinations,  in  the  burning  of  farms,  and  even  of  villages, 
and  in  a  palpable  determination  of  shaking  the  authority  of  the  clergy 
and  the  king. 


24  Europe,  and  the  Horse-  Guards'  Cabinet.  [JULY, 

The  kingdom  of  the  Netherlands  is  convulsed  w-ith  civil  and  religious 
discord.  The  king  has  been  compelled  to  adopt  the  hazardous  measure 
of  proroguing  his  parliament,  and  sending  home  the  popular  opposition, 
to  throw  fresh  fuel  on  the  flame.  Fierce  and  brutal  bigotry  has  reinforced 
the  popular  resistance.  The  popish  priesthood  have  begun  those  quar- 
rels, which  it  is  their  first  triumph  to  create  in  all  protestant  govern- 
ments. Liberalism  has  joined  with  monke"ry  in  this  attack  upon  the 
throne.  The  desire  to  be  united  once  more  with  France  is  openly 
avowed  in  the  journals.  The  result  is  the  necessity  of  prosecuting  those 
journals,  and  of  depriving  their  writers  of  the  means  of  inflaming  the 
popular  passions.  Some  of  the  principal  journalists  of  the  Netherlands 
are  already  under  sentence  of  the  law,  and  banished.  Prussia  has  offered 
to  be  their  jailor,  and  those  Netherlandish  incendiaries  may  look  upon 
themselves  as  fortunate  if  they  escape  the  dungeons  of  Magdeburgh,  or 
the  casernes  of  Spandau.  But  the  tumult  has  not  died  with  their  de- 
parture. New  disturbances  have  taken  their  place,  and  bigotry,  jaco- 
binism, political  corruption,  and  foreign  treachery,  are  preparing  a  bed 
of  torture  for  the  monarchy  of  the  Netherlands. 

Turkey  is  already  in  a  state  of  revolution.  Though  the  shape  of  the  re- 
volution is  not  European.  The  Turk  knows  nothing  of  elections,  popular 
harangues,  or  libellous  newspapers  Of  those,  of  course,  his  revolution 
will  exhibit  no  signs.  But  he  knows  a  great  deal  of  devastating  a  coun- 
try for  a  hundred  square  miles,  of  burning  villages,  of  living  at  free 
quarter,  and  of  cutting  off  the  heads  of  Viziers  and  Sultans.  At  this  hour 
the  whole  nation  is  in  a  ferment.  The  Turk,  the  haughtiest  of  men,  has 
seen  his  country  trampled  by  the  invaders  whom,  of  all  invaders,  he  most 
hates.  He  has  seen  a  Russian  garrison  in  Adrianople,  the  ancient  capital 
of  his  Greek  conquests,  and  still  almost  his  Sacred  City.  He  has  seen 
Constantinople  at  the  mercy  of  the  Muscovite,  his  fleets  destroyed,  his 
money  carried  off  to  the  Russian  Treasury,  his  military  name  trodden 
into  the  dust,  the  key  of  his  supremacy  surrendered  by  the  free  naviga- 
tion of  the  Bosphorus,  and  all  his  ancient  and  lofty  prejudices  insulted  by 
the  new-fangled  affectations  of  European  arts,  discipline,  and  manners. 
He  now  sees  a  new  kingdom  erected  out  of  the  wreck  of  his  empire,  and 
his  slaves  turned  into  his  scoffers  and  his  equals;  Egypt,  withdrawn 
from  his  sceptre  by  fraud,  and  the  Barbary  states  on  the  point  of  being 
torn  from  his  allegiance  by  force.  The  Turk  is  galled  from  top  to  toe. 
Every  wind  that  blows  from  every  quarter  blows  on  his  uncovered 
wounds.  He  sits  among  mankind  the  Job  of  the  latter  ages,  but  with  no 
wisdom  among  his  friends,  and  no  patience  in  himself.  The  opulent  gather 
their  wealth,  and  fly  into  Asia.  The  beggared  sharpen  their  scymitars, 
and  prepare  for  revenge.  Rich  and  poor  abhor  Russia,  fling  out  invectives 
against  the  treachery  of  European  alliances,  and  curse  Mahmoud.  Eng- 
land alone  looks  on.  The  Russian  robs,  the  Greek  slaughters,  the  Austrian 
prepares  to  plunder.  The  Frenchman  tries  his  skill  on  an  expedition 
against  the  Mahometan  of  Africa,  before  he  ventures  his  head  against 
the  Mahometan  of  Greece  or  Asia.  England  still  looks  on,  with  folded 
arms,  and  sees  the  grand  outwork  of  her  Mediterranean  and  Indian  power 
hourly  crumbling  down — she  waits  for  Chance,  and  rejoices  in  a  little 
knot  of  men  to  whom  every  change  will  have  the  interest  of  surprise,  and 
whom  every  change  will  find  only  more  intriguing  and  more  impotent, 
more  presumptuous  at  home,  and  more  puzzled  throughout  the  circum- 
ference of  the  globe ! 


1830.]  [    25    ] 

RECOLLECTIONS    OF    A    VALETUDINARIAN. No.    1. 

I  AM  an  older  man  at  thirty-five  than  most  people  at  threescore,  in 
experience,  in  knowledge  of  the  world,  and,  what  is  infinitely  more  un- 
comfortable to  myself,  in  constitution.  I  had  the  serious  misfortune  to 
become  my  own  master  too  early  in  life,  and  all  my  adventures,  mis- 
haps, and  consequent  imprudencies,  have  been  equally  precocious.  I 
even  came  into  the  world  sooner  than  I  was  expected,  for  I  am  a  seven 
months'  child ;  and  my  first  misfortune  was  the  loss  of  my  poor  mother, 
who  died  in  giving  me  birth.  Reduced  to  premature  old  age  before  I 
have  reached  the  prime  of  life,  I  only  exist  by  art ;  in  short,  I  am  now 
to  an  arm-chair  very  much  what  the  man  part  of  the  centaur  was  to  a 
horse. 

Thus  debarred  from  active  life,  I  am  driven  to  my  own  resources  for 
amusement,  and  look  upon  my  present  loss  of  locomotion  as  a  judgment 
upon  me  for  my  wandering  habits  in  youth.  From  the  time  I  was  four- 
teen years  old,  when  I  first  entered  the  Navy,  I  have  been  constantly 
roving  about  the  world ;  and  if  the  frequent  changes  of  climate,  and  the 
numerous  accidents  incidental  to  my  life  and  profession  have  curtailed 
my  physical  enjoyments,  they  have  considerably  added  to  my  mental 
gratification,  by  providing  me  with  Recollections  and  Reflections  for  the 
remainder  of  my  life.  The  benefit  of  these  I  would  fain  bestow  upon 
the  public,  not  altogether  as  an  act  of  disinterested  kindness,  as  I  have 
consulted  my  own  amusement  as  much  or  more  than  their  advantage  ; 
but  because  autobiography  is  so  much  the  fashion,  that  if  one  does  not 
write  something  in  the  present  day,  it  may  be  supposed  one  cannot  spell. 
We  have  "  Memoirs,"  t(  Original  Letters,"  "  Anecdotes,"  and  "  Remi- 
niscences,"— every  sort  of  means  by  which  private  occurrences  may  be 
converted  into  public  property.  We  are  by  nature  so  curious,  so  fond 
of  prying  into  our  neighbours'  affairs,  and  neglecting  our  own,  that  there 
is  nothing  one  enjoys  so  much  as  a  peep  behind  the  curtain  into  other 
people's  families,  in  order  to  become  acquainted  with  things  and  persons 
that  no  way  concern  us,  or  of  knowing  something  that  is  not  generally 
known.  We  prey  upon  each  other  like  vampires,  filch  each  other's  good 
stories,  portray  our  dearest  friends'  weaknesses,  and  take  advantage  of 
their  sayings  and  doings  in  the  hours  of  confidence  and  conviviality  to 
make  a  book,  No  one,  it  is  remarked,  "  is  a  hero  to  his  own  valet  de 
chambre ;"  and  it  is  most  true :  neither  is  it  possible  for  any  one  to  be 
"  wise  at  all  hours ;"  and  as  long  as  this  domestic  inquisition  is  encou- 
raged as  it  is  by  the  fashion  of  the  day,  the  nonsenses  and  absurdities  of 
our  fellow-creatures  will  not  fail  to  provide  us  with  sufficient  materials 
to  flatter  our  "  amour-propre,"  or  gratify  our  ill-nature. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  however,  I  must  write,  for  I  can  do  nothing 
else  to  amuse  myself;  and  I  see  no  reason  why  ff  my  reminiscences" 
should  not  be  just  as  entertaining  as  other  people's, — as  Horace  Walpole's 

for  instance,  who  wrote  his  for  the  amusement  of  the  Misses  B .   Not 

that  I  would  by  any  means  have  the  presumption  to  compare  myself 
with  that  accomplished  courtier  and  literary  noble,  who  has  written  a 
very  pleasant,  though  rather  scandalous,  account  of  his  own  times,  and 
who  I  dare  say  would  have  flattered  himself  that  he  had  been  a  great  deal 
more  "  in  the  world,"  as  it  is  called,  than  I  have.  Yet  I  doubt  much  if 

M.  M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  55.  D 


26  Recollections  of  a  Valetudinarian.  £JuLY, 

he  had  seen  more  of  it — certainly  not,  geographically  speaking.  It  is 
said  of  Lord  Anson,  that  "  he  had  been  round  the  world,  but  never  in  it;" 
of  Napoleon,  that  "he  had  passed  over  the  world,  but  never  through  it." 
Now  I  have  been  "  in  the  world,"  and  ' '  out  of  the  world,"  and  almost 
"round  the  world,"  for  I  have  crossed  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  and  seen  both 
seas  at  once,  have  peeped  down  the  crater  of  Mount  Vesuvius,  and  stood 
on  the  top  of  Mount  Calvary,  where  the  standard  of  Mahomet  waves 
over  the  tomb  of  our  Saviour.  Surely  many  people  have  inflicted  books 
on  society  with  much  less  provocation ;  so  why  should  not  I  succeed  ? 

ft  Truth,"  they  say,  "  is  not  to  be  told  at  all  times  ;"  and  although  I 
have  not  been  sworn  before  a  magistrate  "  to  tell  the  whole  truth,  and 
nothing  but  the  truth,"  which  is  sometimes  imprudent,  and  always  diffi- 
cult, when  writing  about  oneself,  still  I  will  endeavour  to  adhere  to  it  as 
closely  as  I  can.  Without  boasting,  like  Rousseau,  that. "  my  book  should 
on  comparison  with  that  of  the  recording  angel,  be  found  exactly  to  cor- 
respond," I  will  not  be  more  lenient  to  my  own  faults  and  foibles  than  I 
am  to  those  of  others ;  and  I  hope  that  if  my  theory  be  less  beautiful,  my 
conduct  will  be  considered  more  consistent,  than  that  of  an  author  who 
wrote  whole  volumes  on  education,  and  sent  his  own  children  to  "  Les 
Enfans  trouves."  Without  further  apology  or  preamble,  therefore,  I 
will  promise  to  be  as  scandalous  as  I  dare,  as  entertaining  as  I  can,  and 
if  the  reader  likes  my  terms,  "  aliens" — if  not,  he  is  here  at  liberty  to 
throw  away  the  book. — I  was  born  in  the  house  of  my  maternal  grand- 
father, which  was  situated  in  the  heart  of  the  city  of  London.  He  was 
a  very  rich  man,  had  made  most  of  his  own  money  by  his  exertions  in 
early  life,  and  had  a  proportionate  dislike  to  parting  with  any  of  it.  He 
was  rather  pompous  in  his  manners,  had  an  immense  idea  of  his  own 
consequence,  which  was  certainly  very  great  in  his  own  family,  and  had 
a  general  habit  of  aggrandizing  every  thing  that  directly  or  indirectly 
belonged  to  himself.  Among  many  other  peculiarities,  it  was  his  most 
particular  desire  that  neither  of  his  daughters  should  marry  any  of  his 
majesty's  officers,  a  class  of  persons  to  whom  he  had  a  great  dislike ; 
consequently  two  out  of  three  married  captains  in  the  royal  navy  from 
pure  contradiction  ; — such  is  human  nature  ! 

All  infants  are  pretty  much  alike,  notwithstanding  many  fond  parents 
flatter  themselves  that  they  can  descry  "  papa's  eyes"  and  "  mamma's 
nose,"  the  moment  they  are  born.  In  my  opinion,  and  I  speak  from 
experience,  having  a  little  progeny  of  my  own,  they  all  bear  an  infinite 
resemblance  to  a  skinned  rabbit.  I  never  knew  but  one  exception,  and 
she  was  too  beautiful  to  live.  Every  one's  infancy  also  is  too  much  alike 
to  require  any  particular  description;  we  are  all  put  first  into  long 
clothes,  then  into  short,  then  into  shorter ;  we  all  imbibe  pretty  much 
the  same  quantity  of  pap  and  barley- sugar,  until  age  promotes  us  to 
bread  and  butter  and  rhubarb  and  magnesia.  Then  comes  education, 
beginning  with  our  alphabet,  and  thence  arises  all  the  good  or  evil  that 
influences  our  after  life.  Not  that  I  mean  to  say  a  great  deal  does  not 
depend  on  the  way  in  which  a  child  is  brought  up,  even  from  its  earliest 
infancy,  as  one  sees  the  greatest  difference  in  children.  No  one,  I  am 
sure,  could  have  been  brought  up  worse  than  I  was,  although  my  father 
was  at  sea  and  I  had  no  mother  to  spoil  me.  I  had  two  aunts,  however, 
who  vied  with  each  other  in  that  particular,  and  what  they  left  undone 
was  amply  supplied  by  my  grandfather :  so  that  in  time  I  became  the 


1830.]  Recollections  of  a  Valetudinarian.  27 

most  fractious,  spoiled  child,  that  ever  existed ;  a  misery  to  myself  and 
every  body  about  me. 

My  grandfather,  however,  could  ROC  bear  me  out  of  his  sight,  and  was 
with  great  difficulty  prevailed  on  to  send  me  to  a  school,  whose  chief 
recommendation  was  its  vicinity  to  our  house,  where  I  was  reported  to 
have  made  wonderful  progress.  Whether  that  was  really  the  case,  or 
whether  my  grandfather's  dinners  were  the  best  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  my  praises  the  readiest  way  to  get  invited  to  them,  I  don't  know  ; 
but  every  body  said  I  was  a  "genius,"  and  had  great  natural  talents  j  the 
surest  way  to  prevent  a  child's  getting  any  acquired  ones.  I  had  the 
misfortune  to  be  told  on  all  occasions  that  I  was  very  clever ;  I  wrote  a 
copy  of  verses  on  arithmetic  at  nine  years  old,  and  composed  a  tragedy 
on  a  Spanish  subject  before  I  was  eleven.  The  verses  are  still  extant  : 
all  I  remember  of  the  tragedy  is  that  two  assassins  were  the  chief  cha- 
racters, and  that  one  of  these  was  called  Pedro.  The  realities  of  life 
have  long  since  cured  me  of  poetry  :  when  I  shall  leave  off  prose  I  have 
not  yet  determined. 

These  ill-judged  praises,  of  course,  did  not  tend  to  make  me  either  more 
amiable  or  agreeable,  although  my  too  partial  relations  considered  me 
perfection  j  they  made  me  an  idol,  and  fancied  me  a  prodigy,  and  I  was 
very  well  contented  to  believe  myself  both.  This  mutual  mistake  lasted 
until  I  went  to  a  public  school,  where  the  usual  quantity  of  the  dead  lan- 
guages was  flogged  into  me,  until  I  provoked  my  lately  over-indulgent 
friends  by  different  misdemeanours,  which  they  punished  more  in  pro- 
portion to  their  own  disappointment  than  my  demerits.  It  is  very  hard 
that  those  who  first  spoil  children  should  be  the  persons  to  visit  them 
with  too  much  severity  for  faults  which  they  themselves  originally  caused, 
and  which  more  judicious  treatment  on  their  parts  might  have  prevented. 
Such  was  my  fate,  however  j  the  sins  of  the  child  were  visited  on  the 
man,  and  I  was  returned  upon  my  father's  hands. 

The  crimes  of  a  schoolboy  of  thirteen  years  old  .ought  hardly  to  be 
considered  capital,  and  punished  through  the  whole  of  a  long  life  ;  but 
the  consequences  of  my  grandfather's  anger  entirely  altered  my  destina- 
tion, and  even  to  this  moment  I  feel  the  effects  of  his  resentment.  My 
father,  then  a  captain  in  the  navy,  was  the  younger  son  of  a  country  gen- 
tleman of  an  old  and  highly  respectable  family  in  the  county  of ; 

but  economy  was  not  the  virtue  for  which  they  were  most  particularly 
distinguished,  and  he  was  considerably  disappointed  at  my  return.  He 
could  do  little  for  me  out  of  his  own  profession,  in  which  he  was  univer- 
sally beloved  and  respected.  But  a  boy  educated  for  India,  as  I  had 
been,  brought  up  in  every  luxury,  accustomed  to  have  every  want  anti- 
cipated, and  spoiled  by  my  grandfather,  was  not  exactly  fitted  for  his 
majesty's  navy.  My  grandfather  on  the  father's  side  had  nearly  dissi- 
pated all  the  family  property  that  was  not  entailed  on  his  eldest  son,  who 
had  a  large  family  of  his  own  ;  he  was  a  sort  of  country  Heliogabalus, 
who  would  have  melted  down  a  bullock  to  make  gravy  for  a  partridge. 
He  was  so  curious  in  his  sauces,  and  so  "  recherche"  in  matters  of  eat- 
ing, that  he  was  celebrated  among  his  contemporaries  for  having  de- 
voured the  George  or  Fountain  inn  at  Portsmouth  (I  forget  which)  in 

three  meals,  and  also  for  having  sold  an  estate  in shire,  on  which 

the  purchaser  cut  down  sufficient  timber  to  repay  himself  the  principal 
in  six  months.  I  am  told  this  worthy  gentleman  once  drove  his  coach 
and  four.  I  saw  him  reduced  to  a  one  horse  chaise  before  he  died ;  and 

D  2 


28  Recollections  of  a  Valetudinarian. 

he  was  so  consistent  in  his  conduct  to  the  last,  that  he  would  have  eaten 
up  the  property  secured  to  the  younger  children,  if  the  parchments  had 
not  been  too  tough  for  even  his  appetite.  This  little  property  I  now 
possess,  but  he  took  care  to  remove  all  temptation  to  my  ever  residing  in 
my  own  county,  by  depriving  me  of  the  accommodation  of  a  house, 
which  as  he  could  not  otherwise  make  away  with,  he  knocked  down  and 
sold  the  materials.  In  this  manner  he  ran  through  a  .very  fine  fortune, 
ruined  his  children,  and  his  children's  children  ;  but  he  had  the  conso- 
lation of  giving  his  name  to  a  fish-sauce. 

My  other  grandfather  died  soon  afterwards,,  leaving  me  a  pitiful  an- 
nuity, after  all  his  magnificent  promises,  which  had  the  single  advantage 
attached  to  it  of  my  being  unable  to  make  away  with  it.  My  Indian  in- 
terest expired  with  him ;  my  writership  was  given  to  a  distant  cousin, 
who  will  probably  return  some  time  or  other  with  a  full  purse  and  a 
diseased  liver ;  my  Persian  studies,  in  which  I  had  made  some  profi- 
ciency, became  useless ;  and  it  was  determined  in  the  family  council  held 
on  the  occasion,  that  I  should  be  <c  sent  to  sea," — while  my  grandfather 
had  no  doubt  the  comfortable  reflection,  in  his  last  moments,  that  he  had 
left  me  sufficient  to  keep  me  from  starving.  If  the  reader  should  con- 
sider that  I  reflect  too  severely  on  my  own  relations,  let  him  recollect 
the  story  of  the  boy  who  bit  his  mother's  ear  off  when  he  was  going  to 
be  hanged,  and — make  the  application  in  any  way  he  pleases. 

It  has  been  observed,  that  in  all  large  families  there  is  usually  one 
individual  somewhat  worse  than  the  rest,  and  he  is  generally  "  sent  to 
sea,"  as  the  phrase  goes,  which  I  now  consider  to  be  the  next  best  thing 
to  being  sent  to  Botany  Bay.  I  never  had  much  predilection  for  his 
majesty's  naval  service,  for  I  was  always  of  Dr.  Johnson's  opinion,  that 
"  a  ship  had  all  the  miseries  of  a  prison,  with  the  additional  advantage  of 
the  chance  of  being  drowned."  However,  in  spite  of  likes  or  dislikes,  it 
was  my  destiny  to  go  to  sea,  and  I  was  accordingly  rated  a  midshipman 

on  board  his  majesty's  ship ,  then  employed  on  the  very  memorable, 

but  not  over- glorious,  expedition  to  Walcheren,  and  I  proceeded  to  join 
her  at  Flushing. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  my  feelings  on  leaving  the  comforts  of 
home  to  encounter  the  privations  of  a  sea  life.  I  have  already  said  that  I 
disliked  it ;  and  twenty  years'  experience  has  not  altered  my  opinion.  I 
had  been  pampered  and  indulged  too  much  as  a  child,  and  also  began 
my  career  too  late,  having  been  intended  for  a  more  learned  profession. 
I  do  not  by  any  means  wish  to  infer  from  this  that  learning  is  incom- 
patible with  good  seamanship ;  but  it  ought  rather  to  be  the  superstruc- 
ture than  the  foundation  of  a  nautical  education,  as  it  is  too  apt  to  create 
a  distaste  to  the  profession.  I  would  recommend  all  young  men  destined 
for  the  navy  to  enter  it  very  early  in  life  (I  would  say,  at  about  nine  or 
ten  years  of  age),  before  their  habits  or  their  prejudices  have  had  time  to 
take  root.  An  enthusiastic  love  of  the  service  must  be  instilled  in  early 
life,  as  it  is  more  difficult  to  acquire  it  afterwards. 

I  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  seen  a  more  imposing  spectacle  than 
our  fleet  at  anchor  before  Flushing  ;  myriads  of  vessels,  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  seemed  to  ensure  success.  I  was  told  that,  including  those 
"  armees  en  flute,"  there  were  no  less  than  fifty  sail  of  the  line  employed  on 
this  expedition.  Never  had  England  sent  forth  such  an  armament,  and 
never  since  the  days  of  the  Spanish  armada  had  such  gigantic  prepara- 
tions been  so  entirely  thrown  away  by  any  nation.  The  Spaniards  might 


1830.]  Recollections  of  a  Valetudinarian.  29 

have  consoled  themselves  for  their  misfortune  by  attributing  it  to  the 
weather ;  but  we  had  no  such  excuse  ;  our  failure  was  entirely  our  own, 
solely  occasioned  by  stupidity  and  mismanagement. 

The  reader  will  easily  believe  that  I  did  not  make  those  reflections  at 
that  moment ;  I  was  too  much  occupied  by  the  novelty  of  my  own  situa- 
tion, and  a  great  deal  too  anxious  about  myself  to  think  of  any  thing 
else.  I  should  imagine  that  the  sensations  of  a  boy  first  sent  to  one  of 
our  public  schools,  and  those  of  the  young  midshipman  on  joining  his 
first  ship,  must  be  very  much  alike :  to  use  an  expression  well  known  to 
each,  they  would  both  be  in  a  considerable  "  funk."  Such,  I  well  re- 
member, were  my  own  sensations  on  that  occasion. 

Captain (now  an  admiral  of  great  fame  and  high  consideration) 

received  me  with  much  kindness,  and  gave  me  into  the  particular  charge 
of  his  clerk,  Mr.  R ,  who  had  the  care  of  two  or  three  young  gentle- 
men confided  to  them  by  their  friends.  We  had  "  a  berth"  in  the  gun- 
room, or  what  appeared  to  me  at  that  time  a  sort  of  canvas  den,  in 
which  five  of  us,  including  our  caterer  (an  Irishman  of  considerable 
bulk),  were  to  mess  and  live  in  a  space  of  about  the  size  of  a  four-post 
bed.  This  was  considered  also  as  rather  an  enviable  situation,  as  we  had 
the  advantage  of  day-light  over  those  who  messed  in  the  cockpit,  whose 
inmates  were  condemned  to  perpetual  candle-light,  being  some  feet  below 
the  level  of  the  sea,  and  receiving  only  air  through  a  windsail. 

My  young  messmates  were  delighted  at  having  a  "  greenhorn"  to 
plague,  and  did  not  fail  to  make  me  undergo  all  the  torments  of  initia- 
tion. I  had  the  usual  tricks  played  upon  me  on  being  introduced  to  my 
hammock,  which  went  up  and  down  with  wonderful  celerity  by  the  help 
of  two  or  three  double-headed  shot,  which  being  overbalanced  by  my 
own  weight  in  getting  into  bed  naturally  came  down  with  me,  and  as 
soon  as  I  got  out  as  naturally  went  up  again,  to  my  great  discomfiture 
and  amazement.  I  recollect  that  I  sat  down  in  despair  on  the  wet  cable, 
and  actually  cried  with  vexation,  until  a  good  old  quarter-master  at  last 
took  compassion  on  me,  and  made  me  Cf  fast,"  as  it  is  called,  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night. 

I  soon  made  up  my  mind  to  these  little  annoyances,  which  I  should 
not  have  felt  so  severely,  if  I  had  not  been  so  much  spoiled  by  my  grand- 
father. I  saw,  however,  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  be  sulky ;  and  as  I  am  not 
naturally  ill-tempered,  I  bore  with  their  practical  jokes  with  such  good 
humour,  that  they  soon  got  tired  of  teasing  ,me,  and  I  became  more 
reconciled  to  my  new  situation.  But  a  seasoning  of  a  more  serious  na- 
ture was  about  to  befal  me,  for  which  I  was  quite  unprepared,  and  which 
does  not  happen  to  many  youngsters  so  soon  after  joining  the  service — 
I  mean,  to  be  in  an  action  with  the  enemy  before  I  had  left  home  ten 
days. 

The  operations  against  the  town  of  Flushing  not  keeping  pace  with 
our  Commander-in-chief  s  impatience,  he  determined  to  force  the  bat- 
teries with  his  squadron,  and  as  our  ship  bore  the  flag  of  Lord  G , 

the  second  in  command,  we  were  to  follow  next  in  the  line  to  him,  giving 
the  town  the  advantage  of  our  broadsides  as  we  passed.  Whether  in  our 
ardour  we  went  too  near  the  shore,  or  whether  we  drew  more  water  than 
our  leader,  we  grounded  stern-on  to  the  batteries,  and  were  consequently 
exposed  to  the  whole  weight  of  the  enemy's  fire,  without  being  able  to 
return  but  a  few  shot  from  our  stern-chasers. 

I  shall  never  forget  my  sensations  on  this  occasion.     When  told  that 


30  Recollections  of  a  Valetudinarian. 

we  were  preparing  for  action,  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  my  precious 
person  was  to  be  endangered  ;  that  I,  so  lately  the  pet  of  a  whole  house- 
hold., on  whom  the  breath  of  heaven  was  hardly  allowed  to  blow,  and 
who,  but  a  few  short  days  before,  would  have  been  surrounded  by  a 
whole  host  of  doctors  if  but  my  finger  ached,  was  now  to  be  exposed  to 
the  shot  and  shell  of  a  real  enemy.  It  appeared  to  me  impossible ;  and 
I  was  much  more  afraid  of  being  hurt  than  killed.  When  the  drum  beat 
to  quarters  my  heart  was  in  my  mouth,  and  although  we  sailed  gaily  into 
action  with  the  band  playing  "  God  save  the  King,"  not  all  the  pomp  of 
war,  or  even  the  ridicule  of  my  more  experienced  companions,  could  over- 
come the  agony  of  my  sensations.  I  was  stationed  on  the  quarter-deck, 
I  suppose  in  order  to  accustom  me  to  stand  fire,  and  was  nominally  one 
of  the  captain's  aides-de-camp;  I  say  nominally,  because  if  he  had  not 
had  others  of  more  use  to  him  than  I  was,  he  would  have  been  but  in- 
differently served.  I  stood  under  the  poop  awning,  almost  paralyzed 
with  fear  ;  I  do  not  think  any  power  on  earth  could  have  induced  me  to 
have  moved  one  inch  from  the  place  where  I  happened  to  be  when  the 
first  shot  was  fired.  To  add  to  my  terror,  as  soon  as  the  ship  struck 
against  the  ground,  I  heard  the  admiral  say  distinctly  to  the  captain, 

f(  By  God !  C ,  we  shall  be  all  blown  up ;  it  will  be  impossible  to 

get  her  off  before  next  tide."  This  was  an  awful  moment  for  older  and 
braver  hands  than  I :  we  could  do  nothing  with  our  guns,  and  the  men 
were  ordered  to  lie  down  at  their  quarters. 

The  shot  passed  over  us  and  through  us ;  and  we  could  use  only  the 
carronades  on  the  poop,  which  was  dreadfully  exposed  to  the  enemy's 
fire.  One  single  shot  did  horrid  execution  among  the  marines,  by  strik- 
ing a  stand  of  arms,  and  killing  or  wounding  several  men  with  the 
splinters.  I  shall  not  easily  forget  a  poor  corporal  of  marines,  who  had 
both  his  arms  and  both  his  legs  shot  off  as  he  was  elevating  a  carronade 
on  the  poop.  It  is  now  twenty  years  ago,  yet  the  poor  man's  countenance 
is  as  plainly  before  me  at  this  moment  as  if  it  were  only  yesterday,  as  he 
was  carried  past  me  to  be  lowered  down  the  hatchway  to  the  surgeons 
below.  He  bore  the  amputation  of  three  of  his  limbs,  and  died  under  the 
operation  of  the  fourth. 

At  length  the  gun-boats  and  bomb- vessels  got  in-shore  of  us,  and  took 
off  part  of  the  enemy's  fire,  by  giving  them  other  employment ;  but  they 
still  sent  us  a  red-hot  shot  now  and  then,  and  once  set  our  hammock 
nettings  on  fire.  They  could  not,  however,  stand  our  land  batteries, 
which  opened  upon  them  in  great  force,  and  they  soon  hung  out  a  white 
flag,  and  demanded  a  truce  for  four  hours. 

Great  was  my  delight,  on  this  cessation  of  hostilities ;  and  I  would  not 
even  confess  my  fright  when  the  action  was  over ;  but  fancied  myself 
quite  a  hero,  and  ready  to  face  any  enemy,  because  I  had  escaped  unhurt, 
particularly  when  the  captain,  who  partly  well  guessed  the  state  of  my 
feelings,  laughed  at  me  for  my  ff  immoveability,"  as  he  called  it.  I  have 
been  in  many  battles  since,  in  many  situations  of  equal  or  greater  danger, 
yet  none  affected  me  like  this.  Use  is  certainly  a  great  deal  in  these 
matters ;  but  for  the  time  we  were  in  a  situation  of  the  utmost  peril.  We 
were  so  long  exposed  to  the  enemy's  fire,  that  it  is  quite  a  miracle  we 
were  not  destroyed,  as  the  red-hot  shot  passed  through  us  in  all  direc- 
tions. After  the  action  was  over,  one  of  these  shot  was  found  in  what 
sailors  call  the  "  lady's  hole,"  next  the  after  powder  magazine.  It  had 
probably  skimmed  along  the  water,  and  cooled  itself,  as  it  had  merely 


1830.]  Recollections  of' a  Valetudinarian.  31 

simmered  a  little  in  the  place  where  it  was  found.  This  was  a  narrow 
escape,  as,  had  this  shot  gone  only  a  few  inches  further,  we  should  have 
been  all  blown  into  eternity,  and  the  consequences  to  posterity  would 
have  been  very  serious.  The  battle  of  Navarino  would  never  have  been 
gained  by  our  gallant  admiral,  and  these  my  Recollections  would  never 
have  been  written. — One  never  prizes  life  so  much  as  when  we  have 
just  escaped  from  a  situation  of  great  danger ;  I  am  sure  I  never  knew 
its  value  so  well  before,  and  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  enjoyed  the 
best  dinner  I  have  since  met  with,  so  much  as  the  scramble  we  all  had 
for  odds  and  ends  "  in  the  steward's  room  down  below,"  as  soon  as  the 
action  was  over.  The  delight  of  feeling  oneself  quite  safe,  of  shaking 
hands  with  each  other,  was  beyond  every  thing  I  have  since  felt,  and  I 
took  the  greatest  pains  to  conceal  my  late  panic,  which,  now  the  cause 
was  removed,  I  could  laugh  at  myself. 

The  fleet  having  all  passed  the  batteries,  we  were  towed  to  an 
anchorage  beyond  the  town  of  Flushing,  as  soon  as  the  tide  served,  out  of 
the  reach  of  shot  and  shell  j  so  that  our  business  being  done,  we  had 
only  to  look  on  while  the  people  on  shore  did  theirs,  and  a  tremendously 
fine  sight  it  was.  The  truce  had  no  sooner  expired,  than  the  land  bat- 
teries, gun-boats,  bomb-vessels,  and  rocket-boats,  all  opened  upon  the 
town  at  once,  and  kept  up  a  terrible  bombardment  for  several  hours.  At 
midnight,  Flushing  presented  a  most  magnificent  spectacle ;  it  was  on 
fire  in  four  different  places,  and  the  shells  and  rockets,,  pouring  in  without 
ceasing,  added  to  the  increasing  conflagration. 

The  still  darkness  of  the  night  made  the  contrast  more  apparent, 
while  one  could  not  help  comparing  the  quiet  safety  of  our  own  situation 
with  that  of  the  unfortunate  inhabitants.  All  around  us  was  rest  and  peace, 
save  the  occasional  "All's  well !"  of  the  vigilant  sentry,  the  distant  oars  of 
the  guard-boats,  and  the  swift  gliding  of  the  smaller  boats  going  to  and 
fro  with  orders  to  our  companions  on  shore,  who  were  more  busily  em- 
ployed ;  while  the  incessant  roar  of  the  batteries  and  gun-boats  warned 
us  that  the  work  of  destruction  was  going  forward.  Our  own  sensations 
of  thankfulness  to  that  Omnipotent  Being  who  had  that  day  saved  us 
from  sudden  and  violent  death,  made  iis,  perhaps,  more  compassionate 
than  man  is  to  his  fellow  on  such  occasions.  One  could  not  but  feel  that 
those  brilliant  flames,  which  caused  our  admiration,  were  destroying 
in  a  few  minutes  the  work  of  years ;  that  each  shell,  whose  twinkling 
light  shot  through  the  air  like  falling  stars,  was  the  winged  messenger  of 
fate  to  some  of  our  fellow-creatures ;  and  that  each  rocket  that  glittered 
in  the  firmament  would  probably  deprive  some  industrious  individual  of 
a  home,  and  bring  ruin  and  desolation  on  a  whole  family. 

If  the  reader  should  consider  these  reflections  superfluous,  I  can  only 
say,  in  apology,  they  were  mine  at  that  moment.  Time  and  use  will  of 
course  get  the  better  of  our  feelings ;  but  experience  and  the  oppor- 
tunity of  comparison  has  convinced  me,  that  however  the  tiger  part  of 
our  composition  may  predominate  in  the  hour  of  battle,  and  the  sight  of 
blood  and  natural  instinct  of  self-defence  may  render  us  callous  to  such 
sensations,  there  is  no  human  being  more  generally  kind-hearted  than 
an  Englishman.  He  never  commits  an  unnecessary  cruelty,  and  is  not 
carried  away  by  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  like  his  continental 
neighbours.  I  speak  principally  of  soldiers  and  sailors,  for  a  mob  is 
almost  always  brutal  in  every  country. 

Although  I  had  found  out  that  one  might  get  over  an  action  without 


32  Recollections  of  a  Valetudinarian. 

being  either  killed  or  wounded,  I  cannot  say  that  I  looked  forward  with 
any  particular  delight  to  a  rencontre  with  the  French  fleet,  although  I 
hope  I  should  have  behaved  as  well  as  others  of  my  age  and  size.  How- 
ever, fortunately  for  me,  I  was  not  put  to  the  trial.  ,  In  the  morning, 
Flushing  capitulated,  and  our  commander-in- chief,  Lord  Chatham,  was 
obliged  to  get  up  before  noon  (which  was  rather  an  exertion  with  him) 
to  receive  the  French  general's  sword.  Some  few  days  afterwards,  we 
went  up  the  Scheldt  to  look  at  the  French  fleet.  I  suppose  it  was  for 
nothing  else,  as  we  did  nothing  more.  The  redoubtable  Fort  Lillo  was 
between  us,  whose  heavy  train  of  battering  cannon,  level  with  the  river, 
would  most  likely  have  blown  us  out  of  the  water  unless  the  army  had 
made  a  powerful  attack  in  the  rear,  which  they  did  not.  Perhaps  it  was 
all  for  the  best;  but  if  I  recollect  rightly,  the  people  at  home  were  not 
very  well  satisfied  with  our  proceedings. 

On  our  return  to  Flushing,  we  were  chiefly  occupied  in  destroying 
the  public  works  in  the  dock-yard,  and  in  a  very  short  time  (so  great  is 
man's  ingenuity  in  mischief)  we  converted  one  of  the  finest  arsenals  in 
Europe  into  a  desert,  and  carried  away  with  us  as  a  trophy  a  large 
portion  of  fever  and  disease.  Such  is  war :  we  left  misery  and  desola- 
tion behind  us,  and  returned  home  with  the  remnant  of  an  army  of 
pallid  spectres,  who  looked  more  like  the  ghosts  of  their  buried  com- 
panions than  the  living  remains  of  a  British  army. 

It  is  not  my  intention,  however,  to  stir  up  the  old  grievance  of  the 
Walcheren  expedition ;  too  many  persons  have  reason  to  regret  it  for 
me  to  be  required  to  dwell  upon  so  disagreeable  a  subject  at  so  distant  a 
period.  As  an  Englishman,  I  had  much  rather  forget  it;  therefore  I 
will  not  remind  the  reader  what  might  have  been  done,  but  was  not. 
Politics  are  too  grave  for  me ;  I  was  too  young  for  them  then,  and  I  am 
too  old  for  them  now.  I  will  only  say,  as  far  as  I  was  personally  con- 
cerned, that  for  a  beginner  it  was  rather  an  unfortunate  debut,  and  I 
will  leave  all  recollections  of  Flushing  to  the  few  survivors,  whose  anni- 
versary agues  and  chronic  rheumatisms  will,  I  dare  say,  prove  sufficient 
remembrancers,  while  I  call  to  mind  my  feelings  of  delight  on  returning 
home  from  this  my  first  expedition — such  as  it  was. 

I  should  think  there  could  not  be  a  vainer  animal  in  the  whole  crea- 
tion than  the  young  midshipman  on  his  return  home  from  his  first 
voyage.  The  utter  contempt  in  which  he  holds  his  former  amusements, 
his  assumption  of  the  honours  of  maturity,  his  awkward  attempts  to 
sink  the  boy  in  his  horror  of  the  nursery  and  side  table,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  his  dirk  and  cocked  hat,  all  tend  to  make  him  a  little  man  before 
his  time.  I  really  had  grown  an  inch  or  two  from  change  of  climate 
and  manner  of  life,  but  nothing  in  proportion  to  the  elevation  I  took 
upon  myself.  I  swore  at  my  kind-hearted  old  nurse,  who  would  per- 
sist in  considering  me  a  child,  whenever  she  proposed  combing  my  hair; 
talked  large  of  my  late  engagement  with  the  enemy ;  and  romped  with 
the  maid-servants.  In  short,  I  was  become  a  complete  scamp,  turned 
the  house  almost  upside  down,  and  so  disturbed  the  whole  family,  that 
they  were  quite  delighted  to  get  rid  of  me,  when  I  was  obliged  to  join 
my  ship  again,  which  was  fitting  out  at  Chatham. 

Any  sorrow  that  I  might  perhaps  have  felt  at  leaving  my  home  a  second 
time  was  quite  forgotten  in  the  contemplation  of  the  magnificent  prepara- 
tions made  for  that  event.  The  size  of  my  chest  and  the  extent  of  my  ward- 
robe were  never-failing  sources  of  my  admiration  and  my  father's  animad- 


1830.]  Recollections  of  a  Valetudinarian.  33 

version.  The  quantity  of  linen,  the  full  dress-coats  and  undress  waist- 
coats, the  India  handkerchiefs  and  silk  stockings,  were  all  of  them  ob- 
jects of  delight  to  me  and  grumbling  to  him. — To  be  sure  he  had  to  pay 
the  bill,  which  might  have  induced  him  to  draw  melancholy  compari- 
sons between  the  good  old  times  when  he  went  to  sea  and  the  luxuries 
that  were  then  required.  He  would  hold  up  my  silk  stockings  between 
his  finger  and  thumb  with  the  greatest  contempt,  declaring  that  he  never 
had  but  six  checked  shirts  and  two  white  ones  with  frills ;  and  as  to 
pocket-handkerchiefs,  he  never  heard  of  midshipmen  using  any  thing 
but  a  piece  of  oakum.  What  would  he  have  said  had  he  been  alive  now, 
good  old  gentleman,  and  seen  all  the  elegancies  which  the  "  march  of 
intellect"  has  introduced  into  our  profession,  and  all  the  gold  lace  with 
which  it  has  pleased  the  powers  that  be  to  bedizen  us  ? 

My  consequential  airs  materially  diminished  as  I  approached  my  ship, 
and  my  chivalrous  feelings  considerably  abated  when  I  found  myself 
again  imprisoned  in  my  canvas-den.  My  messmates  had  all  rejoined, 
and  it  was  determined  among  us  to  have  one  good  dinner  on  shore 
before  we  sailed  ;  accordingly  a  splendid  entertainment  was  prepared  at 
one  of  the  principal  hotels  in  Chatham,  which  had  such  an  unfortunate 
termination  that  I  shall  never  forget  it. 

Our  party  consisted  of  five,  including  our  caterer,  who  was  to  take 
care  of  us,  and  prevent  our  getting  into  mischief;  but  on  shore  this 
worthy  man  was  a  greater  boy  than  any  of  us.  We  had  a  most  splendid 
dinner,  and  plenty  of  every  sort  of  wine,  so  that  we  were  in  high  spirits, 
and  did  not  think  of  returning  on  board  till  near  midnight,  when  we 
set  out  for  that  purpose  "  flush'd  with  the  Tuscan  grape  and  high  in 
blood,"  and  particularly  disposed  to  have  a  row  with  any  body.  In 
this  state,  the  devil  or  some  of  his  agents  put  it  into  the  head  of  one  of 
our  party  to  assault  the  watchman's  dog  with  his  horse- whip,  which  was 
the  next  worse  thing  to  attacking  that  functionary  himself. — I  do  not 
know  how  or  why  it  is,  but  at  all  the  sea-port  towns  there  is  a  constant 
petty  warfare  carried  on  between  his  majesty's  civil  and  naval  officers. — 
Midshipmen  always  consider  watchmen,  dockyardmen,  and  custom- 
house officers  as  their  legitimate  foes,  especially  when  they  are  drunk. 
On  this  occasion  the  man  seemed  inclined  to  convince  us  of  the  propriety 
of  the  old  proverb,  "  Love  me,  love  my  dog,"  and  immediately  com- 
menced hostilities  by  seizing  one  of  our  companions  by  the  collar.  This 
produced  a  general  engagement ;  the  watchman  sprung  his  rattle,  and 
all  the  guardians  of  the  night  were  up  in  arms  in  a  moment.  As  we 
had  nothing  but  sticks  and  dirks  to  defend  ourselves,  we  were  soon  over- 
powered, notwithstanding  our  Irish  caterer  showed  the  pugnacity  of  his 
country,  and,  placing  his  back  against  the  rails  of  an  area,  most  vigor- 
ously defended  himself,  breaking  the  head  of  one  watchman,  and  wound- 
ing another.  At  last  even  he  was  overcome,  and  our  general  being  dis- 
armed and  vanquished,  we  were  obliged  to  submit  to  being  carefully 
lodged  in  the  watch-house,  where  we  were  left  to  our  own  reflections. 

We  found  several  of  our  brother  officers  from  different  ships  in  the 
same  situation  as  ourselves.  The  watchmen  seemed  to  have  been  pe- 
culiarly fortunate  in  their  skirmishes  that  night,  having  made  so  many 
prisoners,  that  we  were  nearly  as  closely  packed  as  if  we  had  been  in  the 
black-hole  at  Calcutta.  I  never  recollect  passing  such  a  night,  for  every 
body  was  drunk  except  myself;  and  sobriety,  like  virtue,  must  be  its 
own  reward  on  such  occasions  I  would  have  given  a  great  deal  to  have 

M.  M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  55.  E 


34  Recollections  of  a  Valetudinarian.  [JULY, 

been  as  drunk  as  my  companions,  for  even  in  more  comfortable  circum- 
stances there  is  nothing  more  ridiculous  or  disgusting  than  to  be  the 
only  sober  person  in  a  drunken  party.  Some  talked,  some  laughed, 
some  swore,  and  others  actually  wallowed  in  the  mud  and  mire.  I  thought 
the  morning  would  never  dawn,  and  when  it  was  light  enough  to  see  each 
other,  I  never  saw  such  a  sight  as  we  presented  to  all  beholders ;  for  even 
the  little  boys  came  to  peep  at  us  through  the  bars.  It  was  a  bitter 
cold  winter's  morning  as  our  conductors  paraded  us  through  the  streets, 
one  by  one,  sickly  pale,  and  miserable,  without  allowing  us  to  remove 
any  of  the  effects  of  our  drunken  conflict  or  late  habitation.  They  seemed 
to  take  great  pleasure  in  making  us  go  the  longest  way  to  the  justice's 
house,  amidst  the  shouts  and  hisses  of  the  mob.  At  last  we  arrived,  and 
our  examination  was  soon  over ;  the  watchman  appeared  against  us, 
a  most  woful  figure,  all  over  blood,  plasters,  and  bandages,  to  cover 
wounds  that  did  not  exist.  He  was  assisted  by  a  "  man  of  the  faculty," 
as  he  called  himself,  and  a  man  of  law,  who  demanded  most  enormous 
damages.  The  justice,  who,  I  suppose,  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
case  of  "  Midshipmen  versus  Watchmen,"  did  not  seem  inclined  to  be 
severe  upon  us,  but  merely  bound  us  over  to  keep  the  peace,  and  fined 
us  in  all  fifteen  pounds,  to  cure  the  watchman,  who  really  was  much 
maimed.  He  then  dismissed  us  with  a  gentle  admonition,  recommending 
us  to  make  use  of  the  pump  in  his  yard,  and  to  go  out  by  the  back 
door,  that  we  might  avoid  being  insulted  by  the  mob.  We  slunk  away 
to  the  water's  side,  and  got  on  board  our  ship  in  the  best  way  we  could, 
where  of  course  we  were  laughed  at  by  our  companions,  and  repri-x 
manded  by  the  commanding  officer,  besides  having  to  make  up  the 
fifteen  pounds,  which  caused  a  serious  defalcation  in  our  pocket  money. 
I  believe  this  adventure  tended  more  to  cure  me  of  any  liking  I  might 
have  had  to  the  bottle  than  many  sermons  would  have  done,  for  if  I 
live  to  the  age  of  Methusalem  I  shall  never  forget  the  clink  at  Chatham. 

It  is  proverbial  that  "  sailors  earn  their  money  like  horses,  and  spend 
it  like  asses  ;"  but  scarcely  any  one  who  has  not  seen  a  pay-day  on  board 
a  man-of-war  can  have  any  idea  of  the  childishness  and  folly  of  their 
expenditure.  I  had  an  opportunity  of  being  convinced  of  this  fact  a 
few  days  before  we  sailed ;  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  salutary  regulations 
that  oblige*  them  to  give  a  part  of  their  pay  to  their  wives,  parents, 
or  other  relations,  it  would  all  fall  into  the  hands  of  Jews  and  prostitutes. 
Lord  Byron  has  declared  that  "  avarice  is  the  vice  of  old  age ;"  I  do  not 
think  it  is  the  vice  of  the  navy  at  any  age,  and  although  our  profession 
has  produced  many  heroes,  it  has  not  made  many  "  millionaires"  since 
the  time  of  the  galleons.  Indeed  there  are  few  examples  of  naval  officers 
making  fortunes  in  the  service.  Some  make  a  little  money  after  they 
become  captains,  but  they  generally  are  obliged,  or  fancy  themselves 
obliged,  to  spend  it. 

Our  people  having  in  some  way  or  other  got  rid  of  their  super- 
abundance of  cash, — for  sailors  are  good  for  nothing  unless  they  are 
poor,  at  least  Lord  St.  Vincent  must  have  thought  so  when  he  said  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  "  keep  them  poor,  and  they'll  serve  you," — we  proceeded 
to  Plymouth  to  take  in  the  remainder  of  our  stores,  and  in  a  few  days 
we  sailed  for  the  Mediterranean. — This  was  in  the  year  1810,  or  there- 
abouts. 

*  This  alludes  to  "  tickets  of  allotments ;"  but  there  is  nothing  compulsatory  in 
arrangements  at  the  pay-table,  by  which  seamen  may  forward  a  part  of  their  pay  to  their 
family  and  friends, — EDITOH. 


1830.  j  [     35    ] 

TALES   OF   THE    DEAD. 

THE    HALF-HANGED    ITALIAN;    THE    IMPALED    TURK  j     THE    HALF-DROWNED 

ENGLISHMAN. 

"  To  be,  or  not  to  be !" — But  hold,  my  masters.  Before  we  go  any 
further,  you  would  probably  like  to  know  something  of  the  unlucky 
scribbler  who  thus  unbidden  intrudes  upon  your  literary  moments.  Be- 
fore you  consent  to  jog  onwards  through  a  tiresome  half  hour  or  so, 
under  the  guidance  of  an  impertinent  moralist,  an  it  please  you  so  to  call 
him,  who  would  fain  unharness  you  from  the  lumbering  vehicle  of  po- 
litics, Russian  victories,  and  Irish  riots,  ti>  saddle  you  instead  with  the 
baggage  of  his  own  light  ware,  you  will  no  doubt  deem  it  advisable  to 
take  a  scrupulous  inventory  of  the  who,  the  what,  the  when,  the  where, 
the  why,  and  other  indispensable  et  ceteras.  Know,  then,  most  gentle 
reader,  that  I  am  in  truth  a  philosophical  vagabond,  a  strange  compound 
of  Democritus  and  Heraclitus,  with  one  eye  for  smiles  and  another  for 
tears ;  being  thus  gifted  with  a  most  convenient  cast  of  countenance, 
either  side  of  which  I  can  turn  as  modern  statesmen  do  their  coats,  accord- 
ing to  the  exigencies  of  the  moment.  I  laugh  with  the  laughers;  I  weep 
occasionally  with  them  that  weep ;  I  contrive  to  squeeze  myself  into  the 
midst  of  every  crowd ;  pick  up  a  little  scandal  and  small-talk  at  coffee- 
houses ;  and  hardly  ever  fall  asleep  in  a  church.  I  have  seen  many  a 
droll  sight ;  I  have  listened  to  many  an  odd  tale,  at  the  telling  of  which 
sorrow  might  ope  her  flood-gates,  with  some  that  would  afford  food  for 
"laughter  holding  both  his  sides;"  and  could  I  but  find  some  good-na- 
tured publisher  to  usher  me  into  the  world  genteelly  bound,  and  some 
soft-hearted  reviewer  (quaere,  ' '  can  such  things  be  ?")  to  bestow  on  my 
calf-skin  a  little  of  the  unction  of  puffing,  why  then  I  might  enroll  my- 
self as  a  modest  supernumerary  in  that  very  ancient,  valorous,  and  re- 
spectable, but  not  overfed  corps, 

' '  In  foolscap  uniform  turned  up  with  ink/' 

heroes  that  quietly  give  point  with  the  pen,  instead  of  bloodthirstily 
cutting,  and  slashing,  and  hewing,  and  hacking  with  the  sword, — • 
cautious  crusaders  that  march  to  the  temple  of  fame,  not  through  fields 
of  slaughter,  but  through  a  second — ay,  mayhap,  a  third  or  fourth 
edition,  revised  and  corrected.  All  this,  reader,  is  entre  nous:  and  now 
that  I  have,  with  my  usual  precision,  and  quite  in  my  own  off-handed  un- 
ceremonious way,  indulged  your  curiosity  with  a  full,  true,  and  satisfac- 
tory account  of  myself,  my  propensities,  and  my  customary  mode  of  life, 
together  with  a  hint  of  my  ulterior  and  desperate  purpose,  I  shall,  with 
your  courteous  assent,  resume  the  thread  of  this  most  profound  and  in- 
structive lucubration. 

All  good  is  counterbalanced  by  evil ;  and  my  rambling  habits  have 
been  productive  of  some  sad  results,  which,  in  the  singleness  of  my  bio- 
graphical veracity,  I  must  unreservedly  avow.  In  the  first  place,  I  enter- 
tain an  insuperable  aversion  to  the  society  of  methodical,  sober,  sage 
people,  whom  I  may  presume  to  call  the  steady  but  slowly-revolving 
lights  of  the  age.  The  natural  consequence  of  this  my  antipathy  to 
gravity  and  regularity  is  a  decided  predilection  for  the  company  of 
entertaining  and  clever  vagabonds,  whom  I  may  compare  to  the  will-of- 
the-wisp  meteors  which,  in  my  boyish  days,  led  me  many  a  merry  dance, 
though  I  must  own  that  in  the  end  they  generally  left  me  in  a  quagmire. 

E  2 


36  Tales  of  the  Dead. 

In  the  next  place,  the  many  strange  stories  that  I  have  picked  iijv,-  and 
the  many  odd  adventures  which  I  have  witnessed,  or  in  which  I  have 
participated,  have  led  me  to  contract  a  habit  of  settling  every  question, 
how  momentous  soever,  by  the  recital  of  a  tale  or  scapegrace  anecdote. 
Manifold  are  the  evil  consequences  resulting  from  this  inveterate  habit 
of  mine.  I  have  lost  my  character  for  argument ;  and  yet  time  was  when 
I  could  handle  a  syllogism  as  dexterously  as  any  casuist  that  ever  per- 
plexed a  plain  case.  I  am  now,  forsooth,  known  only  by  the  appellation 
of  the  novelist,  or  the  traveller,  or  some  other  such  significant  epithet, 
shrewdly  indicative  of  a  certain  failing,  to  which,  in  the  opinion  of  Fal- 
staff,  this  world  is  much  given.  My  most  veracious  histories  are  treated 
as  agreeable  fictions,  in  which  the  moral  is  lost  in  the  romance ;  my  most 
pertinent  anecdotes  share  the  fate  reserved  of  old  for  the  revelations  of 
Priam's  ill-fated  daughter,  who,  as  Virgil  tells  us,  was  doomed  to  pro- 
phecy to  a  set  of  obdurate  heathens  that  disbelieved  her  predictions  and 
laughed  at  her  advice.  I  sometimes  feel  my  gall  rising  at  this  wilful 
neglect  of  the  good  things,  at  this  obstinate  blindness  to  the  moral  lessons 
that,  on  a  diligent  search,  might  be  found  in  my  narratives ;  but  as  I 
am  in  the  main  a  good-natured  peripatetic,  I  invariably  join  in  the  laugh 
against  myself,  satisfied  to  amuse  if  I  cannot  instruct. 

Though  compelled  to  yield  to  the  opinion  of  my  friends — I  mean  the 
vagabond  portion  of  society,  whose  fellowship  I  chiefly  cultivate — and 
though  forced  in  some  measure  to  abandon  my  pretensions  tological  acumen, 
my  head  forms  a  capacious  storehouse  for  anecdotes  of  every  sort ;  for 
an  infinity  of  scraps,  and  odds,  and  ends,  in  the  way  of  personal  and 
rambling  adventure.  By  this  means,  whatever  may  be  the  subject  started, 
though  I  may  not  always  be  ready  to  attack  it  with  the  heavy  artillery 
of  argument  and  reason,  I  can  generally  from  the  aforesaid  arsenal  bring 
the  small  guns  of  illustration  and  anecdote  to  bear  upon  it  directly  or 
indirectly.  I  particularly  pride  myself  upon  knowing  when  to  make  a 
hit ;  upon  my  dexterity  in  crushing  the  pretensions  of  a  rival  fabulist ; 
upon  a  happy  knack  of  snatching  a  good  thing  out  of  a  voluble  orator's 
mouth,  and  making  his  story  my  own.  I  could  for  hours  together  make 
a  dead  set  at  the  most  experienced  proser,  watching  the  first  symptom 
of  exhaustion,  and  availing  myself  of  an  unlucky  cough  or  hem  to 
seize  upon  the  audience  as  my  property  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  Com- 
mend me  to  the  Frenchman  who,  having  for  once  in  his  life  afforded  an 
opening  to  a  phthisicky  opponent  by  stopping  to  take  breath  in  the 
middle  of  a  long  argument,  replied  to  a  friend  that  expressed  some  sur- 
prise at  his  unusual  want  of  tact,  "  Attendez  done ;  s'il  crache,  il  est 
perdu." 

During  the  course  of  last  autumn,  that  predilection  for  a  rambling  life, 
which  I  have  always  cherished,  and  which  I  maintain  to  be  proper  and 
natural  to  man,  introduced  me  to  a  soiree  in  the  north  of  France,  where 
I  enjoyed  the  society  of  as  motley  a  group  as  ever  vagabond  observer 
noted  in  his  chequered  page.  The  evening  was  wet  and  gloomy ;  the 
very  avant-courier  of  a  winter's  day.  In  a  spacious  antique  saloon  were 
congregated  an  assemblage  of  quaint  physiognomies  that  seemed  as  if 
moulded  from  a  variety  of  models ;  while,  with  a  gravity  not  usual  to 
our  Gallic  neighbours,  the  provincial  beaux  and  belles  glided  along  the 
well- waxed  oaken  floor,  or  sat  in  rueful  contemplation  of  the  bleak-looking 
fire-place,  whose  unkindled  faggots  reminded  of  the  cheerful  blaze  that 
had  been,  and  whose  blackness  a  poetic  imagination  might  have  fancied 


1830.3  The  Half-Hanged  Italian.  37 

the  mourning-suit  put  on  in  sorrow  for  a  lengthened  widowhood.  The 
aspect  of  the  society  was  as  gloomy  as  that  of  the  elements.  Here  and 
there  a  brace  of  politicians  settled  the  destiny  of  nations  with  a  nod,  or  a 
shrug,  or  a  humph  !  Dandies  yawned  and  twirled  their  thumbs ;  and 
women,  wondrous  to  relate,  were  silent,  and  plied  their  needles  instead 
of  their  tongues.  Conversation  was  completely  at  a  stand.  The  usual 
novelties  on  the  subject  of  the  weather  had  already  been  broached  :  it 
had  been  pronounced  bad,  shocking,  execrable ;  execrable,  shocking, 
bad :  the  topic  was  worn  to  tatters.  Then  there  was  the  opera ;  but 
what  does  a  provincial  know  of  the  opera  ?  He  talks  about  the  ballet, 
about  entrechats  and  pirouettes,  much  in  the  style  in  which  a  Mahometan 
believer  raves  of  the  black  eyes  and  coral  lips  of  ever-blooming  Houris : 
he  can  even  describe  the  position  of  the  building  itself,  with  as  much 
precision  as  a  Hornerian  commentator  points  out  the  ancient  site  of  Troy. 
The  case  was  hopeless.  For  my  own  part  I  had  tried  the  conversational 
powers  of  my  neighbours,  and  in  despair  had  half  resolved  upon  the 
dangerous  experiment  of  making  an  amicable  advance  to  a  toothless, 
pursy,  purblind  old  lapdog,  that  by  dint  of  scraping,  and  turning,  and 
re-turning,  had  wriggled  himself  into  a  snug  bed  upon  the  softest  easy- 
chair  in  the  room.  A  constant  wheezing,  asthmatic  growl,  the  exact 
counterpart  of  a  superannuated  pensioner's  lament,  had  hitherto  kept  me 
at  a  respectful  distance  from  the  little  domestic  nuisance  that  in  con- 
sideration of  a  ten  years'  indulgence,  and  in  pity  to  his  growing  in- 
firmities, was  tolerated  to  snarl  at  the  guests,  and  snap  at  the  servants 
who  in  the  exercise  of  their  functions  were  forced  to  invade  the  hearth- 
rug which  this  autocrat  of  the  chimney-corner  considered  his  legitimate 
territory.  I  absolutely  shuddered  at  my  own  temerity :  but  what  was 
to  be  done  ?  I  sighed  in  vain  for  an  opening — the  slightest  glimmering 
loophole  through  which  to  insinuate  a  tale,  a  smart  anecdote,  or  some 
exhilarating  piece  of  scandal.  But  no ;  my  well-filled  budget  was  to 
all  appearance  destined  to  remain  closed  for  that  evening,  when — oh 
miraculous  interposition  of  fate ! — a  good-natured  old  gentleman  mut- 
tered something  about  the  necessity  of  capital  punishment  in  a  state. 
This  grand  question  once  started,  the  shock  became  electric.  Each 
had  his  argument  in  store ;  each  had  his  provision  of  common-place 
tediousness  ready  cut  and  dry.  All  spoke  at  once :  an  admirable 
mode  of  discussion,  inasmuch  as  it  saves  time,  and  exercises  the 
lungs.  Here  was  a  glorious  opportunity  for  me.  Like  a  skilful  tac- 
tician, I  determined  to  economise  my  force  till  the  heat  of  the  opening 
fire  should  be  over,  and  then,  with  the  field  all  my  own,  to  rush 
with  the  corps  de  reserve  of  eloquent  narrative  upon  my  exhausted 
opponents. 

Watching  the  opportune  moment  when  the  tide  of  argument  seemed 
rather  on  the  ebb,  I  proposed  to  favour  the  company  with  the  details  of 
a  strange  adventure,  precisely  as  I  had  heard  them  from  the  lips  of  a 
singular  personage  whom  I  had  met  some  months  previously  in  the 
course  of  my  eccentric  wanderings.  I  fondly  flattered  myself  that  the 
episode  which  I  was  about  to  relate,  in  illustration  of  the  important  ques- 
tion then  in  debate,  would  build  me  up  at  least  a  twelve  months'  fame 
as  a  dealer  in  anecdote.  Figure  to  yourself,  reader,  a  dark-visaged 
Italian  bandit,  whose  eagle  eye  had  watched  many  aveturino  slowly  wind- 
ing along  the  romantic  steep;  one  that  from  the  shelter  of  a  projecting  crag 
had  often  calculated,  with  mathematical  precision,  the  moment  for  pounc- 


38  .      Tales  of  the  Dead.  [JuLY, 

ing  upon  the  traveller  in  the  valley  beneath.  Fancy  this  rival  of  mighty 
monarchs — this  Alexander  on  a  minor  scale — this  hardy  robber  terminat- 
ing his  career  of  pillage  by  the  rope — gallantly  swinging  on  a  gibbet,  and 
yet  at  this  very  moment  still  numbered  with  the  living !  Such  was  the  hero 
of  my  promised  tale.  I  thought  myself  in  high  luck  to  have  spoken  to 
a  patient  fresh  from  the  hands  of  Jack  Ketch,  to  have  gathered  from  his 
own  lips  the  recital  of  his  last  earthly  sensations  ;  in  short,  to  have  lived, 
moved,  and  breathed  in  the  same  atmosphere  with  one  that  had  hovered 
on  the  confines  of  another  world.  I  fancied  myself  in  possession  of  an 
irresistible  argument  in  favour  of  the  penal  law  so  loudly  combated,  and 
now  or  never  was  the  moment  to  introduce  my  anecdote.  The  bare 
mention  of  it  produced,  as  I  had  expected,  something  like  excitement, 
and  lighted  up  a  ray  of  expectation  on  many  a  fair  face.  The  chairs  of  the 
company  were  gradually  compressed  into  a  narrow  semicircle ;  and  the 
lady  of  the  house,  an  elderly  maiden  aunt,  with  a  look  directed  towards  a 
tall  hoydenish  niece  of  sixteen  just  emancipated  from  a  boarding-school, 
ventured,  in  a  paroxysm  of  hospitality,  to  hint  something  about  a  fire. 
Blessings  on  the  good  old  lady ! — though  the  day  was  Sunday,  and  though 
she  had  hallowed  the  Sabbath  by  her  customary  attendance  at  church, 
she  could  endure  the  profanity  of  a  little  heretic  mirth  in  the  evening. 
When  I  think  of  her,  I  really  feel  disposed  to  relax  in  my  antipathy  to 
old  maids  and  sanctified  evergreen  aunts  ;  for,  to  speak  generally  of  that 
class  of  bipeds,  I  aver  from  experience,  as  well  as  upon  the  high  authority 
of  Tony  Lumpkin,  that  "  aunts  are  d — d  bad  things,"  though,  thank 
God,  I  am  seldom  regaled  with  the  odour  of  their  sanctity : 

<(  Why  I  thank  God  for  that  is  no  great  matter." 

To  return  the  proposition  relative  to  a  fire  was  not  thrown  away.  In 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye  a  few  lighted  embers  had  already  kindled  the 
faggots  now  no  longer  destined  merely  for  show ;  and  the  blaze,  fanned  by 
the  breath,  in  plain  English,  of  a  pair  of  bellows,  soon  communicated  its 
enlivening  glow  to  a  set  of  as  eager  faces  as  ever  circled  round  an  autumn 
fire.  Would  English  belle  have  contaminated  her  taper  fingers  with  the 
contact  of  such  a  vulgar  utensil  as  was  now  most  lustily  plied  by  the 
somewhat  ruddy  hands  of  the  hoydenish  niece  above-mentioned  ?  Would 
English  belle  have  stooped  to  any  thing  so  despicably  useful  ?  Reader, 
"  they  manage  these  things  better  in  France." — And  now  for  my  tale, 
which  I  related  nearly  in  the  following  terms  : — 

I  had  undertaken  a  pedestrian  excursion  through  the  most  romantic 
and  untra veiled  part  of  Italy,  induced  chiefly  by  the  circumstance  that 
no  octavo  guide  that  I  could  lay  hold  of  had  lavished  its  trite  com- 
mendation on  the  beauties  of  scenery  unexplored  by  the  generality  of 
cockney  post-chaise  travellers.  That  love  of  vagabondizing  and  change, 
which  is  the  very  essence  of  my  animal  existence,  had  urged  me  speedily  to 
return  to  France,  from  the  gay  metropolis  of  which  I  was  now  not  many 
leagues  distant.  In  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  a  few  paces  in  advance 
of  me,  a  solitary  traveller  walked  leisurely  along.  On  coming  up  with 
him,  curiosity  induced  me  to  observe  his  physiognomy,  which  a  feeble 
acquaintance  with  the  science  of  Lavater  enabled  me  to  pronounce  that 
of  a  boon  companion,  a  decided  amateur  of  good  eating  and  drinking, 
when  those  blessings  were  to  be  obtained  without  too  much  trouble.  He 
seemed  to  be  one  of  those  enviable  mortals  who  travel  recklessly  along 
the  road  of  life,  without  knowing  or  caring  whither  they  are  bound, — 


1830.]  The  Half-Hanged  Italian.  39 

one  of  those  to  whom  the  moment  is  every  thing,  and  who  give  them- 
selves but  little  concern  about  their  evening  couch  or  their  morning 
meal.  His  countenance  was  frank  and  open,  and  his  whole  person  was 
marked  by  an  appearance  of  careless  jollity,  a  total  abandonment  of  all 
sublunary  concerns  to  the  supreme  divinity  of  chance ;  and  I  must  con- 
fess that  such  a  system  has  always  appeared  to  me  full  as  philosophic 
as  any  other.  In  support  of  my  vagabond  theory  and  practice,  it  may 
be  observed,  that  he  who  "  takes  no  thought  for  the  morrow"  possesses 
a  prodigious  advantage  over  your  cautious  calculating  reasoner,  that  true 
follower  of  holy  precept  enjoys  the  good  that  fortune  scatters  in  his  path, 
nor  alloys  it  by  anticipation  of  the  evil  reserved  for  a  darker  hour.  In 
short,  I  have  ever  remarked,  that  the  man  who  in  the  disagreeable 
journey  of  existence  abandons  himself  blindly  and  unhesitatingly  to  the 
empire  of  circumstances  comes  off  better  than  his  fellow-travellers,  and 
is  distinguished  from  tjie  crowd  by  an  air  of  boldness  and  freedom  not 
without  its  value.  This  was  precisely  the  case  with  the  pedestrian 
whom  I  now  overtook.  As  I  make  it  a  point  to  turn  every  incident  to 
account,  and  as  he  seemed  inclined  to  be  sociable,  I  slackened  my  pace, 
in  order  to  keep  alongside  of  him,  and  was  soon  convinced  that  I  had 
formed  a  correct  judgment  of  his  jovial  disposition,  for  he  was  the  first 
to  break  silence. 

"  You  are  probably  going  to  Paris,  monsieur,"  said  he  carelessly:  "  if 
so,  you  can  show  me  the  way,  for  I  have  twice  lost  myself  in  these  cursed 
by-roads." 

"  With  all  my  heart,  my  good  fellow :  you  have  only  to  keep  along 
with  me,  and  we  shall  reach  Paris  together ;  though,  by  the  way,  you 
seem  in  no  great  hurry  to  arrive." 

' '  Oh,  as  for  that,  I  never  hurry  when  I  feel  myself  in  safety.  Simple 
as  I  stand  here,  many  a  rock  in  Italy  has  served  me  as  an  ambuscade  for 
more  than  fifteen  days  together;  and  there  have  I  been  planted,  my  good 
carbine  in  my  hand,  my  ear  cocked,  and  my  eye  on  the  look-out  for 
game  that  I  could  not  always  start." 

I  am  not  naturally  timid  ;  and  after  all,  what  was  there  to  fear  ?  I  was 
a  match  for  the  stranger  in  physical  advantages,  and  besides  was  armed  ; 
but  I  own  that  I  felt  an  awkward  uncomfortable  sensation,  more  attri- 
butable, perhaps,  to  surprise  than  to  any  other  cause.  I  soon,  however, 
recovered  my  self-possession  sufficiently  to  reply  to  him. 

"  Is  it  possible,  signor,  that  I  see  before  me  one  of  those  hardy 
Sicilian  brigands  to  whose  account  have  been  laid  so  many  delightful 
adventures  of  robbery  and  murder,  and  whose  daring  career  has  fur- 
nished so  fine  a  subject  for  the  pencil  of  Salvator  Rosa?" 

' ( Faith,  even  so,"  replied  the  bandit ;  ' '  I  have  in  my  day  been  en^- 
rolled  among  those  daring  Sicilian  bands,  those  brave  fellows  that  would 
snatch  you  up  a  man  from  the  high  road  with  as  much  ease  as  a  sneaking 
beggarly  purse-lifter  at  a  village  fair  would  extract  a  handkerchief  or  a 
greasy  note- case  from  a  bumpkin's  pocket."  At  these  recollections  he 
shook  his  head  mournfully,  and  gave  a  long-drawn  sigh  to  days  of  de- 
parted glory. 

' '  Ay,"  said  I  with  an  appearance  of  the  deepest  interest,  "  you  may 
well  regret  those  golden  days  !" 

"  Regret  them  !  ah  !  the  bandit's  is  the  only  life.  Nothing  under  the 
sun  could  compare  with  our  brave  mountaineers.  Only  fancy  a  dashing 
young  fellow  of  eighteen ;  his  dress  a  smart  green  frock  with  gold  but- 


40  Tales  of  the  Dead.  [JULY, 

tons;  his  hair  tastefully  braided,  and  kept  together  by  some  fair  maiden's 
riband;  his  pistols  and  his  trusty  stiletto  stuck  in  a  rich  silk  girdle; 
an  enormous  sabre  trailing  behind  him  with  a  formidable  rattle  ;  a  well- 
burnished  carbine  slung  across  his  shoulders  ; — only  fancy  a  knight  of  the 
road  armed  thus  at  all  points,  posted  on  the  summit  of  a  rock,  bidding 
bold  defiance  to  the  abyss  beneath  ;  singing  and  fighting,  fighting  and 
singing  ;  making  alliance  one  day  with  the  Pope,  the  next  with  the  Em- 
peror ;  receiving  ransom  for  the  strangers  that  fall  into  his  hands  as  for 
so  many  slaves;  drinking  his  delicious  rosolio;  ruling  the  roast  at  taverns ; 
throwing  the  handkerchief  to  village  beauties ;  and  always  sure  of  dying 
on  a  bed  of  state,  or  swinging  from  a  gibbet.  Picture  to  yourself,  if  you 
can,  such  a  charming  life,  and  then  judge  what  I  have  lost." 

"  Lost,  say  you  ?  And  yet,  if  I  may  judge,  you  must  have  been  rather 
a  shy  bird  to  catch.  If  you  have  given  up  the  trade,  I  suppose  it  was 
with  your  own  free  consent." 

"  Indeed !"  replied  the  bandit.  "  You  little  know  how  matters  stand. 
But  if  you  had  been  hanged,  like  me ." 

"  You  hanged  ?"  And  I  involuntarily  started  back. 

"  Ay,  hanged !  and  all  owing  to  an  excess  of  devotion.  You  must 
know,  that  on  a  certain  beauteous  evening  I  was  snugly  concealed  in 
one  of  those  impenetrable  defiles  that  border  Terracina  and,  sinner  that 
I  was,  as  I  gazed  upon  the  moon,  that  rose  so  brilliant  and  looked  so 
lovely,  I  recollected  that  for  a  long  time  I  had  not  made  an  offering  of 
the  tithe  of  my  booty  to  the  Madonna.  By  a  singular  coincidence,  it 
happened  that  on  that  very  day  was  celebrated  the  fete  of  the  Virgin, 
all  Italy  had  already  resounded  with  the  homage  paid  to  the  blessed 
shrine ;  I  alone,  unworthy  pagan  !  had  not  even  muttered  an  ave-maria  ! 
Determined,  however,  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  I  descended  towards  the 
valley  with  rapid  strides,  and,  as  I  went  along,  poetically  admired  the  soft 
silvery  reflexion  of  the  stars  in  the  broad  lake.  I  arrived  at  Terracina 
at  the  moment  when  the  moon  shone  brightest ;  and,  wholly  bent  on  my 
devotion  to  the  Madonna,  I  boldly  traversed  a  crowd  of  Italian  peasants, 
who  were  enjoying  the  cool  evening  air  at  the  threshold  of  their  doors. 
Never  once  reflecting  that  every  eye  was  fixed  on  me,  I  arrived  at  the 
church  porch.  Only  one  of  the  folding  doors  was  open ;  on  the  other 
was  posted  a  large  placard,  which  contained  a  most  flattering  description 
of  my  person,  and  agreeably  tickled  my  vanity  by  informing  me  that  a 
high  price  was  set  upon  my  head.  Nothing  daunted,  I  entered  the 
church, — an  Italian  church  too,  with  its  fretwork  arches,  its  aerial  dome, 
its  altar  of  white  marble,  its  delicious  perfume  of  incense,  and  the  last 
lingering  sounds  of  the  organ  that  died  upon  the  breeze.  The  sainted 
image  of  the  Madonna  was  encircled  with  flowers.  I  prostrated  myself 
before  her,  and  offered  her  a  handsome  share  of  my  booty, — a  diamond 
cross  that  had  been  worn  by  a  young  Sicilian  beauty,  and  a  small  English 
box  of  elaborate  workmanship.  The  Virgin  appeared  satisfied  with  my 
pious  homage.  I  arose  with  confidence,  and  was  preparing  to  depart  in 
peace  for  my  mountain,  when,  just  at  the  church-door,  I  was  seized  from 
behind,  and  dragged  by  a  set  of  ill-favoured  police  blood-hounds  to  a 
dungeon,  whence  there  was  no  escape,  for  not  a  petticoat  was  to  be  seen 
in  the  place ;  and  as  I  had  not  a  pistole  in  the  world  the  jailor  was 
inexorable." 

"  And  so  you  were  hanged,  my  honest  fellow  ?" 

"  By  the  Virgin,  the  very  next  morning !    Great  pains  were  taken  to 


1830.]  The  Half-Hanged  Italian.  41 

conceal  the  report  of  my  detention ;  and  a  few  hours  sufficed  to  construct 
a  gibbet,  and  to  find  an  executioner.  In  the  morning  the  officers  of  justice 
visited  my  cell,,  and  desired  me  to  quit  my  dungeon.  At  the  outer  gate 
were  collected  a  vast  number  of  Italian  penitents,  white,  black,  and 
gray  ;  some  with  sandals,  others  with  their  feet  naked ;  each  holding  a 
lighted  torch  in  his  hand,  his  head  covered  with  a  san  benilo,  that  ex- 
posed to  view  nothing  but  a  ghastly  hollow  eye,  on  which  the  leaden  still- 
ness of  death  was  already  imprinted.  In  front  of  me  a  trio  of  priests, 
muttering  a  triple  salvo  of  pater --nosier -s,  paraded  a  funeral  bier ;  and 
away  I  marched  gaily  to  the  gallows,  which,  by  way  of  doing  me 
honour,  had  been  erected  in  the  most  distinguished  style.  It  was  elevated 
upon  a  gentle  rising  ground,  and  somewhat  resembled  a  large  direction- 
post;  white  daisies  formed  a  soft  flowery  carpet  at  its  foot;  behind  rose 
the  hills  that  had  so  often  witnessed  my  exploits ;  in  front  yawned  a  pre- 
cipice, at  the  base  of  which  rolled,  with  monotonous  murmur,  a  rapid 
torrent,  whose  exhalations  penetrated  even  to  the  theatre  on  whose  stage 
I  was  about  to  exhibit.  Around  the  instrument  of  death  all  was  per- 
fume and  light.  I  advanced  with  a  firm  step  to  the  foot  of  the  ladder;  but 
casting  a  last  look  upon  my  coffin,  which  lay  in  readiness  for  the  moment 
when  all  should  be  over,  and  measuring  its  proportions  with  a  glance, 
'  this  coffin  is  not  near  large  enough/  cried  I ;  e  and,  by  the  Virgin,  be- 
fore I  consent  to  be  hanged,  one  of  the  proper  dimensions  must  be 
brought !'  At  the  same  time  I  assumed  so  resolute  an  aspect  that  the 
leader  of  the  police  gang  thought  it  necessary  to  venture  a  few  words  as 
a  sedative : — "My  son/  said  he  with  a  considerate  air,  '  you  would  have 
just  reason  to  complain,  were  this  coffin  destined  to  contain  your  remains 
entire ;  but  as  your  exploits  have  gained  you  a  high  reputation,  it  has 
been  decided,  that  as  soon  as  you  are  dead,  your  head  shall  be  severed 
from  your  body,  and  exposed  to  public  view  from  the  most  elevated  point 
of  the  city.  You  may  therefore  make  yourself  perfectly  easy,  for  you 
see  you  will  have  plenty  of  room.  I  scorn  to  deceive  an  honest  man  like 
you.' 

"  With  this  reasoning  I  was  perfectly  satisfied.  I  ascended  the  ladder, 
and  in  a  twinkling  was  at  the  top.  From  my  elevated  position  the  view 
was  admirable  ;  and  the  hangman  being  a  novice  in  his  art,  this  circum- 
stance afforded  me  sufficient  time  to  take  a  survey  of  the  crowd.  I  ob- 
served some  determined  young  fellows  of  my  own  stamp  trembling  with 
ill-suppressed  rage,  and  some  young  girls  in  tears,  while  others,  on  the 
contrary,  hard-hearted  jades !  testified  every  symptom  of  joy.  In  the 
midst  of  the  crowd  was  one  of  my  own  band,  a  fellow  after  my  own 
heart,  as  brave  a  lad  as  ever  handled  blade,  one  whose  parting  look  pro- 
mised me  a  deep  and  speedy  vengeance.  Whilst  the  executioner  pre- 
pared his  apparatus,  I  walked  carelessly  to  and  fro  upon  the  platform  of 
the  gibbet,  just  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice.  The  sympathetic  hang- 
man stood  aghast  at  my  temerity.  '  Have  a  care/  cried  he,  (  or  you  will 
be  killed.  Would  you  rob  even  the  gallows?'  At  last  all  was  in  readi- 
ness ;  but  the  tender-hearted  finisher  of  the  law  was  seized  with  a  vertigo 
— his  limbs  tottered  under  his  feeble  frame — the  rolling  cascade  below, 
the  burning  sun  above,  bewildered  his  brain.  At  length,  however,  the 
cord  was  arranged  around  my  neck.  The  executioner  pushed  me  into  the 
yawning  gulf,  and  attempted  to  shorten  my  sufferings  by  pressing  his 
ignoble  foot  upon  my  shoulders;  but  on  these  firm,  tough  shoulders 
mortal  foot  cannot  print  its  trace  with  impunity.  The  executioner  slipped. 

M.  M.  New  Senes.—Voi.  X.  No.  55.  F 


42  Talcs  of  the  Dead.  [JULY, 

retrieved  himself  for  a  moment  by  catching  at  the  foot  of  the  gallows 
with  both  hands :  one  of  them  gradually  relaxed  its  hold,  and  the  next 
instant  he  was  himself  precipitated  headlong  into  the  abyss,  and  borne 
away  by  the  torrent." 

This  gallows  with  its  blithe  and  smiling  accompaniments,  this  scene 
of  death  so  jocundly  portrayed,  had  wound  up  my  curiosity  to  the 
highest  pitch.  I  could  never  have  believed  that  a  hempen  cravat  was 
productive  of  such  pleasing  recollections.  I  had  heard  that  death  came 
arrayed  in  pall  and  winding-sheet ;  never  before  had  I  contemplated  him 
in  the  gaiety  of  his  holiday  suit.  The  bandit  was  a  philosopher  of  the 
right  school;  he  looked  upon  the  gallows  as  a  long-suffering  creditor, 
but  one  with  whom  he  must  ultimately  reckon  ;  or  rather,  like  a  calcu- 
lating gamester,  he  knew  that  he  had  fairly  lost  his  stake,  and  that  its 
payment  would  be  rigorously  exacted.  I  was  anxious  to  hear  the  con- 
tinuation of  his  adventures,  and  at  my  request  he  thus  resumed  his  story. 

' f  1  have  the  most  perfect  recollection,"  said  he,  "  even  of  the  slightest 
sensations  which  I  experienced ;  and  were  the  whole  business  to  recom- 
mence in  an  hour  from  this  moment,  I  should  feel  not  the  least  concern. 
When  the  rope  had  been  fastened  about  my  neck,  and  when  the  execu- 
tioner had  pushed  me  from  the  ladder,  I  was  seized  with  a  violent  pain 
about  the  throat.  Shortly  afterwards  I  felt  nothing.  The  air  inflated  my 
lungs  slowly,  but  pinched  up  as  they  were,  the  slightest  particle  of  the 
balmy  breeze  revived  me  ;  and  besides,  being  lightly  balanced  in  mid- 
air, I  might  be  said  to  breathe  it  at  every  pore.  I  can  even  recollect  that 
this  swing-swong  motion  was  not  without  its  charms.  I  beheld  external 
objects  as  it  were  through  a  thin  veil  of  gauze;  my  ear  was  rather 
fatigued  by  a  stilly  silence ;  I  began  gradually  to  lose  myself  in  my  me- 
ditations, though  I  can  no  longer  exactly  recollect  the  subject  of  them, 
unless  it  was  the  money  I  had  won  the  evening  before  from  my  comrade 
Gregorio.  All  of  a  sudden  I  gasped  for  breath  ;  I  could  no  longer  per- 
ceive objects  distinctly ;  I  no  longer  felt  the  swing-swong  motion ; — I  was 
dead !" 

.  "  And  yet,"  said  I,  "  here  you  are,  alive  and  hearty ;  and  I  congra- 
tulate you  most  sincerely  on  your  escape." 

The  bandit  upon  this  assumed  an  air  of  gravity,  and  assured  me  there 
was  a  miracle  at  the  bottom  of  it.  "  I  had  been  dead,"  resumed  he, 
^  upwards  of  an  hour,  when  my  comrade  cut  the  rope.  When  I  came  to 
myself,  the  first  object  that  I  beheld  was  a  lovely  female  ;  her  sylph-like 
form  reclining  with  deep  interest  over  my  exhausted  frame ;  her  soft 
black  eyes  fixed  with  intense  anxiety  on  mine,  that  had  so  long  been 
closed  in  death  ;  her  balmy  breath  revivifying  me  with  a  soul  more  pure 
than  that  which  had  quitted  its  tenement.  Her  voice,  her  look,  her  lan- 
guage, her  soul,  were  Italian !  Methought  for  an  instant  that  I  had 
newly  risen  from  the  tomb,  and  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  Raphael's 
Madonna.  Now,  signer,  you  have  heard  the  bandit's  story.  I  have  faith- 
fully promised  the  lovely  Maria  to  become  an  honest  man,  if  possible. 
Love,  they  say,  works  miracles ;  and  perhaps  he  will,  in  favour  of  Maria, 
operate  my  conversion.  I  have  even  already  made  considerable  progress 
in  the  path  of  virtue ;  for  I  have  procured  myself  two  most  essential 
requisites  to  the  character  of  an  honest  man — a  good  coat,  and  a  new 
hat." 

"  But,  besides  that,"  added  I,  "  you  must  have  a  trade ;  and  I  am 
greatly  afraid,  my  good  friend,  that  you  have  none." 


1830.]  The  Half-Hanged  Italian.  43 

' '  That  is  precisely  what  every  one  tells  me,"  replied  he ;  t(  and  though 
I  have  tormented  my  poor  brains  about  the  matter  from  morning  till 
night,  I  have  never  been  able  to  perceive  that  a  trade  leads  to  any  thing 
good  in  France.  Now,  in  Italy  it  is  different :  there  the  fields  produce 
mushrooms  sufficient  to  feed  a  city  ten  times  as  populous  as  that  of  Rome ; 
in  France  every  thing  must  be  paid  for,  even  to  the  very  mushrooms, 
which  are  rank  poison." 

"  Do  you  think,  then,"  said  I,  "  that  the  trade  of  lazaroni  is  that  of  an 
honest  man?" 

' (  Most  undoubtedly.  Your  lazaroni  is  neither  master  nor  servant ; 
depends  on  no  man's  orders ;  works  only  when  his  necessities  require ; 
and  his  necessities  are  never  very  urgent,  so  long  as  the  sun  shines  bright 
and  warm.  And  then  do  you  reckon  for  nothing  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
the  Pope  every  day  ?  a  pleasure  that  is  worth  at  least  twenty  indulgences 
every  twenty-four  hours.  No  life  like  the  lazaroni's." 

"  In  that  case  I  am  surprised  you  have  neglected  to  procure  your 
enrolment  as  a  member  of  the  fraternity." 

"  I  had  some  thoughts  of  it,"  replied  he,  "  and  Maria  would  fain  have 
persuaded  me  to  it ;  but  I  never  liked  the  eruptions  of  Vesuvius." 

At  the  same  instant  we  entered  one  of  the  barriers  of  Paris,  and  arrived 
suddenly  before  the  Luxembourg,  that  beauteous  and  tranquil  retreat 
formed  expressly  for  the  delight  of  quiet  and  peaceful  souls.  The  Italian, 
astonished  at  every  thing,  questioned  me  at  every  step.  His  wonder  was 
in  turn  excited  by  the  old  apple-women  that  encumbered  the  porch  of 
the  palace,  and  by  the  young  pillars  of  the  state,  who  came  to  legislate 
for  the  good  of  the  nation.  He  was  amazed  that  not  a  single  vagabond 
could  be  found  warming  himself  lazily  and  luxuriously  in  the  sun ;  that 
most  of  the  lazaroni,  as  he  called  them,  in  this  country  work  like  galley- 
slaves.  His  musical  ear  was  shocked  to  hear  other  lazaroni  in  the  streets 
screaming  their  discordant  notes  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  hurdy-gurdy  ; 
his  eye  was  shocked  with  the  sight  of  clumsy  earthen-pots,  every  thing 
modern,  nothing  antique: — narrow  streets;  an  infected  atmosphere; 
young  girls  clad  in  the  livery  of  wretchedness,  and  lacking  the  witchery 
of  an  Italian  smile ;  venders  of  poison,  ycleped  apothecaries,  in  every 
street ; — and  not  a  single  Madonna.  The  bandit  was  struck  with  con- 
sternation. "  What  can  I  do  among  such  people  ?"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of 
anxiety  that  pierced  through  the  natural  hilarity  of  his  disposition. 

"  In  the  first  place,  what  are  your  qualifications  ?"  asked  I,  beginning, 
I  confess,  to  feel  rather  embarrassed  with  his  person. 

"  Not  many,"  replied  he ;  ' '  and  yet  I  could  play  better  music,  I  could 
paint  better,  I  could  guard  a  palace  better,  than  the  knaves  I  have  hitherto 
seen  :  and  as  to  the  venders  of  poison  with  whom  your  streets  are  filled, 
here  is  a  stiletto  worth  all  their  drugs ;"  and  he  sighed  as  he  examined 
the  point  of  his  dazzling  blade. 

'•'  If  these  are  your  only  resources,  Heaven  help  you,  my  good  friend ! 
The  market  is  already  stocked  with  about  fifteen  thousand  painters,  twice 
that  number  of  musicians,  and  God  knows  how  many  poets  who  mount 
but  slowly  to  the  summit  of  Parnassus.  As  to  your  stiletto,  if  you  will 
be  ruled  by  me,  you  will  let  it  repose  quietly  in  the  scabbard ;  otherwise 
you  may  chance  to  enjoy  the  swing-swong  motion  of  which  you  are  so 
fond  at  a  gallows  where  the  rope  never  breaks." 

"  Yet,  without  boasting,  I  sing  a  love- song  admirably.  At  Venice, 
the  amateur  serenaders  always  confided  the  orchestra  to  me ;  and  I  gene- 

F  2 


44  Tales  of  the  Dead.  [JuL  Y, 

rally  managed  matters  so  well,  that  it  has  more  than  once  been  my  lot  to 
finish  on  my  own  account  an  affair  that  I  had  begun  on  another's." 

"  Ah,  my  good  friend,  serenading  does  not  go  down  here.  In  France 
there  is  but  one  way  to  a  woman's  heart ; — gold  here  is  a  talisman  that 
works  more  miracles  than  all  the  melody  of  Metastasio." 

"In  that  case,"  replied  the  bandit  with  hauteur,  "  I  shall  enter  the 
service  of  the  king  of  France.  His  majesty  shall  see  in  what  style  I  can 
handle  a  carbine  and  manoeuvre  a  battalion." 

"  In  the  first  place,  you  must  know  that  his  most  Christian  Majesty  is 
not  so  easily  spoken  with  as  an  Italian  captain  of  banditti.  In  the  next, 
handle  the  carbine  with  what  skill  you  may,  you  will  find  your  matches 
here; — there  are  200,000  brave  fellows  in  France,  who  are  paid  for  that 
work  at  the  liberal  rate  of  five  sols  per  day." 

"  Ah !"  cried  the  brigand,  knitting  his  brows.  "  What  a  vile  country  ! 
that  cannot  even  support  a  band  of  brave  fellows  with  a  bandit  chief  at 
their  head !  What  an  excellent  cook  they  would  find  in  me  !" 

"  Cook  !"  replied  I ;  "  and  pray  what  are  your  pretensions  in  that  way  ?" 

"  Pardieu !  I  would  have  you  know  that  we  lads  of  the  stiletto  do 
not  starve  ourselves.  I  could  serve  you  up  a  ragout  such  as  any  man 
of  taste  would  pronounce  exquisite.  When  I  was  at  Terracina  I  was 
famous  for  a  hare  civet.  If  you  could  only  ask  Cardinal  Fesch,  Heaven 
preserve  his  eminence  1  I  recollect  that  one  evening  I  was  sent  for  to 
prepare  his  supper,  and  his  eminence  swore  by  all  the  saints  in  the 
calendar  that  even  in  his  own  palace  he  had  never  tasted  any  thing  more 
delicious." 

Hereupon  I  addressed  the  bandit  in  a  solemn  tone. — "  I  congratulate 
you,"  said  I, — "  your  destiny  is  in  your  own  hands ;  your  skill  as  a  cook 
will  ensure  you  a  better  welcome  in  France  than  you  could  expect  had 
you  the  abilities  of  a  general.  Visit  every  house  in  Paris ;  and  when  you 
come  to  one  that  suits  you,  walk  in  boldly,  announce  your  culinary 
talents,  prove  yourself  a  cook,  and  you  are  at  the  head  of  affairs  directly. 
— Your  fortune  is  made ;  adieu  !"  I  forthwith  quitted  him,  relieved  from 
all  anxiety  as  to  his  future  fate. 

Having  thus  terminated  the  narrative  upon  the  effect  of  which  I  had 
so  largely  calculated,  I  was  inexpressibly  mortified  to  observe  the  feeble 
sensation  which  it  seemed  to  produce.  Not  a  murmur  of  approbation 
disturbed  the  decorum  of  the  audience ;  not  even  a  symptom  of  incre- 
dulity or  astonishment  tickled  the  vanity  of  the  narrator,  or  forced  him 
to  resort  to  solemn  asseveration  to  corroborate  the  truth  of  his  wondrous 
tale.  In  short  it  passed  off  as  a  matter  of  no  interest, — a  threadbare  fic- 
tion,— a  dull  romance,  unworthy  even  the  notice  of  a  doubt  or  question. 
I  stood  exactly  in  the  situation  of  a  wit  who,  having  wasted  a  good  thing 
upon  an  obtuse-eared  audience,  feels  himself  under  the  necessity  of 
laughing  at  his  own  jest  in  order  to  preserve  his  character.  The  fact 
was,  that,  like  many  a  good  story,  mine  would  not  bear  repetition :  it 
wore  the  semblance  of  truth  only  in  the  mouth  of  the  hero  himself. 
Again  were  arguments  showered  upon  me  thick  as  hailstones : — my  ad- 
versaries, relying  on  their  numbers,  pressed  me  hard,  when  just  in  the 
moment  of  defeat  an  unexpected  ally  stepped  forward  to  my  relief. 

This  new  auxiliary  was  a  venerable  long-bearded  Mussulman.  Slowly 
raising  his  head  from  one  of  the  cushions  of  the  sofa  on  which  he  had 
reclined  with  listless  unconcern,  and  taking  up  the  conversation  at  the 
precise  point  where  I  had  discontinued  it, — "  I  can  easily  imagine," 


2830.]  the  Impaled  Turk.  45 

said  the  opium-eater,  "  that  your  Italian  was  hanged,  since  I  myself 
have  been  impaled." 

Upon  this  a  dead  silence  ensued.  The  male  portion  of  the  audience  drew 
their  chairs  closer  to  the  speaker, — the  women  laid  down  their  needles, 
and  were  all  attention.  Reader,  have  you  ever  remarked  a  group  of 
female  listeners?  have  you  ever  admired  the  animated  countenances; 
the  large  speaking  eyes ;  the  heaving  bosoms ;  the  stately  necks  of  ivory 
white,  straining  forward  with  intense  anxiety  ?  the  dear  little  hands,  so 
soft,  so  delicate,  they  scarce  can  wield  a  fan ;  the — the — the — in  short, 
if  like  me  you  are  a  judge  of  such  matters,  get  invited  or  invite  yourself 
to  a  soiree,  bring  about  the  introduction,  of  a  tale  of  wonder  or  of  pathos, 
and  then  feast  your  eyes,  as  I  did  whilst  waiting  for  the  Turk  to  digest 
his  exordium. 

"  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  holy  prophet !"  said  he  at  length,  "  but 
on  one  occasion  I  penetrated  to  the  seraglio  of  Mahomet's  successor,  I 
dared  to  cast  a  profane  eye  on  the  chaste  spouses  of  the  brother  of  the 
sun  and  moon." 

Here  the  attention  of  the  listeners  was  redoubled :  a  blooming  Agnes 
who  had  scarcely  numbered  fifteen  summers,  and  who,  seated  beside  her 
mamma,  had  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  speaker,  at  this  juncture  modestly  re- 
sumed her  work ;  but  somehow  or  other  the  needle  found  its  way  into 
her  finger  instead  of  the  sampler. 

"  My  name  is  Hassan,"  continued  the  Turk ;  "  my  father  was  rich, 
and  bequeathed  his  wealth  to  me.  Like  a  true  believer,  I  have  devoted 
my  life  to  the  softer  sex ;  but  my  fastidiousness  has  always  increased  in 
proportion  to  the  ardour  of  my  passion.  In  vain  did  I  in  my  youth  fre- 
quent the  most  celebrated  slave-markets :  my  delicate  appetite  could  find 
no  female  worthy  of  partaking  my  flame.  Each  day  the  master  of  my 
harem  paraded  before  me  a  new  lot  of  female  slaves — lovely  creatures — 
black  as  ebony ;  while  now  and  then,  to  please  my  depraved  taste,  he 
would  present  a  bevy  of  Circassians,  white  as  ivory.  All  would  not  do. 
I  became  every  day  more  difficult  to  please  ;  and,  by  the  prophet,  it  went 
to  my  heart  to  lavish  upon  a  female  of  imperfect  symmetry  the  price 
that  would  have  purchased  a  well-shaped  Arab  mare  !  Still  was  I  tor- 
mented by,  an  undefinable  longing ;  and  one  evening,  when  my  restless 
fancy  had  wandered  into  the  regions  of  ideal  perfection,  I  was  suddenly 
assailed  by  a  horrible  temptation :  in  short  I  determined  to  penetrate,  if 
possible,  even  to  the  secret  recesses  of  the  imperial  seraglio. 

"I  have  always  detested  concealment,  and  I  scaled  the  walls  of  his 
highness  in  as  much  fancied  security  as  though  neither  janizaries  nor 
mutes  were  on  the  watch.  It  pleased  the  prophet  to  crown  my  rash  de- 
sign thus  far  with  success.  I  traversed  without  accident  the  three  hitherto 
impenetrable  enclosures  which  defend  the  entrance  of  the  seraglio  from 
unhallowed  footsteps ;  and  when  daylight  dawned,  I  gazed  with  impious 
curiosity  upon  the  inviolable  sanctuary.  Conceive  my  surprise  when  by 
the  pale  light  of  the  morning  sun  I  could  discern  that  the  wives  of 
Allah's  vicegerent  were  formed  like  other  women.  The  film  fell  from 
my  eyes ;  I  was  completely  undeceived,  and  yet  my  imagination  could 
scarcely  credit  the  sad  reality.  A  fit  of  tardy  repentance  stole  across  my 
mind,  when  suddenly  I  found  myself  seized  by  the  mutes  on  guard. 

fe  Dreadful  was  my  crime :  yet  so  easy  is  the  yoke  with  which  true 
believers  are  governed,  that  even  had  my  guilt  been  proclaimed,  it  would 
have  been  merely  a  matter  of  decapitation  for  me  and  the  slumbering 


46  Tales  of  the  Dead. 

females  upon  whose  unveiled  countenances  I  had  sacrilegiously  gazed. 
It  was,  however,  decided  that  this  momentary  stain  should  be  carefully 
concealed  from  the  knowledge  of  his  highness ;  and  an  aga  having  or- 
dered me  to  be  conducted  with  all  possible  secrecy  from  within  the  re- 
doubtable enclosure,  I  was  marched  off  to  undergo  the  penalty  which 
my  heinous  offence  had  merited. 

"  Perhaps,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  you  may  require  a  description  of  the 
punishment  of  impalement.  The  instrument  employed  on  such  occasions 
is  sharp  and  pointed,  and,  placed  on  the  top  of  one  of  our  loftiest  monu- 
ments, is  not  unlike  one  of  those  spiral  conductors  with  which  you  un- 
believers blindly  defy  the  fury  of  the  elements,  and  even  the  immutable 
decrees  of  destiny.  Upon  this  instrument  was  I  placed  astride ;  and  that 
I  might  be  enabled  to  preserve  my  equilibrium,  to  each  of  my  feet  were 
attached  two  heavy  iron  balls.  My  agony  was  intense;  the  iron  slowly 
penetrated  my  flesh;  and  the  second  sun,  whose  scorching  rays  now  began 
to  glitter  on  the  domes  of  Constantinople,  would  not  have  found  me  alive 
at  the  hour  of  noon,  had  not  the  iron  balls  by  some  accident  been  disen- 
gaged from  my  feet :  they  fell  with  a  tremendous  crash,  and  from  that 
instant  my  tortures  became  more  endurable.  I  even  conceived  a  hope 
that  I  should  escape  with  life.  Nothing  can  surpass  the  beauty  of  the 
scenery  around  Constantinople :  the  eye  rests  with  delight  on  the  broad 
expanse  of  ocean,  sprinkled  with  green  islands,  and  ploughed  by  ma- 
jestic vessels.  Spite  of  my  sufferings,  the  view  which  I  enjoyed  was 
sublime.  From  the  eminence  on  which  I  was  perched,  I  could  easily 
perceive  that  Constantinople  was  the  queen  of  cities.  I  beheld  at  my 
feet  her  brilliant  mosques,  her  beauteous  palaces,  her  gardens  suspended 
in  the  air,  her  spacious  cemeteries,  the  peaceful  retreat  of  opium-eaters 
and  hydromel- drinkers ;  and  in  the  height  of  my  gratitude  for  the  glo- 
rious sight  which  the  intercession  of  the  prophet  had  procured  me,  I  in- 
voked the  God  of  true  believers.  Doubtless  my  prayer  was  heard.  An  un- 
believing dog — I  crave  your  pardon,  I  mean  a  Christian  priest — delivered 
me,  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  and  transported  me  to  his  humble  dwelling. 
When  my  wounds  were  sufficiently  healed  I  returned  to  my  palace. 
My  slaves  prostrated  themselves  at  my  feet.  The  next  morning  I  bought 
the  first  women  that  presented  themselves,  dipped  my  pipe  in  rose  water ; 
and  if  I  occasionally  thought  on  his  highness  and  his  janizaries,  it  was 
prudently  to  remind  myself  that  women  must  be  purchased  such  as 
Allah  has  made  them,  and,  above  all,  to  recollect  that  God  is  God,  that 
Mahomet  is  his  prophet,  and  that  Stamboul  is  the  pearl  of  the  East." 

Such  was  the  Mussulman's  tale.  Fatigued  by  the  length  of  his  re- 
cital, he  fell  back  listlessly  upon  the  cushions  of  the  sofa,  in  the  volup- 
tuous attitude  of  a  true  believer  that  blesses  his  prophet  for  all  things, 
trusts  all  to  fate,  and  smokes  his  pipe  at  noon.  The  venerable  Turk  was 
the  living  personification  of  calm  and  blissful  content,  one  of  those 
models  from  which  the  genius  of  a  Raphael  or  a  Titian  might  have  traced 
the  portrait  of  a  being  without  care,  without  desire,  without  even  a 
thought !  Oh,  how  I  sometimes  envy  the  repose  of  a  luxurious  Maho- 
metan couched  on  his  Persian  carpet,  and  plunged  in  that  delicious 
eastern  doze  which  seems  to  spare  the  prophet's  lazy  votary  even  the 
trouble  of  closing  his  eyes  !  v 

Stories,  like  accidents,  follow  each  other  in  rapid  succession.  A  tale 
of  interest  related  with  naivete  exercises  a  singular  influence  on  the  minds 
of  the  listeners :  it  draws  them  together,  as  it  were,  by  a  community  of 


1830.]  The  Half-Drowned  Englishman.  47 

Sensations,  and  changes  an  evening  that  has  set  in  with  dulness  and 
stupidity  into  one  of  social  mirth  and  pleasure.  Thus,,  after  the  Turk's 
laconic  tale,  the  evening  decidedly  assumed  a  new  aspect :  the  old  aunt 
replenished  the  fire  with  an  additional  faggot  in  defiance  of  the  alma- 
nack, which  had  not  yet  announced  the  commencement  of  the  winter 
quarter.  An  autumnal  fire  is  really  a  subject  for  the  poet ;  and  were  it 
not  that  my  Pegasus  rather  limps,  I  might  attempt  to  amble  through  a 
verse  or  two.  No,  no,  I  must  stick  to  prose ;  it  gets  on  faster ;  and 
rhymers  are  troubled  with  such  abominable  headaches ! 

In  humble  prose,  then,  the  faggots  blazed  cheerfully ;  and  just  at  the 
moment  when  the  white  and  blue  flame,  accompanied  by  the  delicious 
odour  of  a  French  wood  fire,  proudly  lost  itself  in  the  invisible  regions 
of  the  chimney,  its  reflexion  irradiated  the  visage  of  a  personage  who 
had  not  yet  opened  his  mouth,  except  for  the  purpose  of  swallowing. 
From  the  mixture  of  phlegm  and  fog  distributed  in  equal  portions  over 
his  countenance,  it  was  easy  to  recognise  the  taciturn  stranger  for  an  En- 
glishman :  no  disparagement  to  my  countrymen,  for  silence  is  said  to  be 
the  concomitant  of  wisdom.  His  jaws  would  have  absolutely  grown 
rusty  for  want  of  practice  in  the  vocal  department,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  increased  agility  with  which  they  were  forced  to  perform  their  mas- 
ticating functions.  And  yet,  athwart  the  cold  reserve  of  his  countenance, 
that  damped  and  chilled  like  the  gloomy  November  of  his  metropolis,  a 
keen  sarcastic  glance  beamed  occasionally  from  his  eye, — a  ray  of  inter- 
cepted sunshine,  that,  piercing  faintly  through  the  mist,  cheered  for  a 
moment  with  its  promise  of  genial  warmth.  The  caustic  smile  by  which 
his  features  were  from  time  to  time  dilated,  the  malicious  curl  which 
played  around  his  nether  lip,  denoted  that  he  was  visited  with  moments 
of  mirthful  mood,  even  with  casual  glimmerings  of  fun  ;  that  he  could 
sometimes  utter  as  well  as  swallow  a  good  thing,  and  circulate  the  jest  as 
well  as  pass  the  bottle. 

I  know  not  how  it  happened,  but  the  eyes  of  the  company  were  simul- 
taneously turned  upon  the  Englishman,  as  if  in  expectation  of  his  tale  j — 
for  narratives  had  now  become  the  order  of  the  night,  and  were  as  indis- 
pensable as  the  long  stories  which  at  the  delicate  entertainments  of  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon,  as  her  biographers  have  taken  the  trouble  to  inform 
us,  the  guests  were  sometimes  obliged  to  accept  in  lieu  of  the  more  sub- 
stantial roti  that  usually  preceded  the  desert.  Fortunately  my  country- 
man was  "  in  the  vein"  for  personal  anecdote  : — had  not  his  humour  of 
the  moment  seconded  the  wishes  of  the  company,  I  much  doubt  if  I 
should  now  have  the  satisfaction  of  communicating  the  following  adven- 
ture, which  was  narrated  in  a  tone  that  might  have  passed  for  banter- 
ing, but  for  the  imperturbable  and  somewhat  melancholy  gravity  of  the 
speaker. 

"  For  my  poor  part,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  I  regret  that  I 
cannot  gratify  you  with  a  dissertation  on  the  pleasures  of  Suspension  or 
Impalement,  never  having  personally  experienced  either  of  those  high 
destinies.  My  fate  was  different  and  less  exalted  ;  and  if  you  will  con- 
descend to  relish  a  simple  scene  of  drowning,  a  few  artless  details  of 
suffocation  by  water,  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  contribute  my  mite  to  the 
general  hilarity.  Though  I  can  only  boast  of  having  been  drowned,  the 
particulars  of  my  death  are  rather  strange.  Not  long  since,  in  my  ram- 
bles through  France,  I  visited  Lyons.  Some  of  you  who  are  acquainted 
with  the  environs  of  that  city  may  recollect  a  charming  landscape  almost 


48  Tales  of  the  Dead.  [JuLV, 

close  to  its  walls.  To  that  spot  I  wandered  on  a  smiling  summer's  morn. 
Through  the  clear  warm  atmosphere  not  an  envious  cloud  could  be  seen 
skimming  the  blue  vault,  and  the  fragrant  breeze  that  scarcely  ruffled 
the  foliage  seemed  to  lull  all  nature  to  repose.  Yielding  to  the  soothing 
influence  of  the  scene,  I  stretched  myself  lazily  along  the  river-bank  just 
where  the  Saone  timidly  unites  its  limpid  waters  to  the  current  of  the 
Rhone,  and,  liS^e  a  coquettish  mistress  half-meeting  the  caress  she  seems 
to  shun,  first  opposes  the  impetuous  stream,  then  resists  more  faintly,  till 
at  last  both  rivers  mingle  their  waves  and  lovingly  roll  together  in  the 
same  broad  channel.  Hours  glided  on  unnoticed,  and  the  heat  of  the 
noon-tide  sun  rendered  the  cool  transparent  flood  still  more  tempting.  A 
species  of  rude  mossy  grotto  lent  me  its  partial  shade, — the  same  that,  if 
report  speaks  truth,  once  afforded  a  night's  shelter  to  that  phoenix  of  va- 
gabonds, Jean  Jacques  Rousseau.  Around  me  floated  a  thin  veil  of 
sultry  vapours.  I  was,  in  short,  in  that  condition  between  sleep  and  wak- 
ing, in  that  state  of  beatitude,  which  an  opium-eater  may  be  supposed 
to  enjoy  ;  and  as  I  gazed  upon  the  sheet  of  water  that  appeared  to  me  so 
peaceful  and  so  calm,  imagination  presented  to  my  view  a  fair  and  fan- 
tastic form — a  youthful  and  lovely  female  seated  on  a  fragment  of  rock 
at  the  bottom  of  the  stream,  and  tempting  me  with  a  smile  to  her  watery 
dwelling  ;  while,  mixed  with  the  murmur  of  the  rippling  current,  a  soft 
plaintive  melody  was  wafted  to  my  ear — one  of  those  sweet  strains  with 
which  the  Sirens  of  old  wooed  the  heedless  mariner  to  his  ruin.  The 
charm  was  inexpressible.  The  bright  vision  floated  with  graceful  equili- 
brium in  the  clear  mirror  of  the  waves.  A  weeping  willow  that  grew 
upon  the  bank  seemed  in  amorous  mood  to  kiss  the  nymph's  fair  fore- 
head, while  its  green  leaves  encircled  her  form  with  a  transparent  robe. 
I  lay  in  motionless  enchantment,  bound  by  one  of  those  fairy  spells 
whose  ecstatic  raptures  scorn  the  aid  of  language.  The  dreams  of  my 
youth  returned.  I  was  transported  to  the  world  of  imagination ;  and 
oh,  how  exquisitely  fair  appeared  its  visionary  shapes,  its  wildest  ideali- 
ties !  How  far  did  this  fragile  but  faultless  creation  of  my  fancy  surpass 
the  dull  sluggish  forms  that  jostle  one  another  on  the  clod  of  earth  to 
which  mortal  faculties  are  chained  !  I  revelled  for  an  instant  in  the 
bowers  of  this  shadowy  Elysium :  I  lingered  for  one  bright  moment  on 
the  threshold  of  a  world  which  was  not :  I  gazed  on  light  which  scarce 
had  shone  ere  it  vanished, 

*  Like  the  lost  Pleiad  seen  no  more  below  !* 

"  Without  hesitation,  away  I  splashed  into  the  stream ;  and  neither  its 
chilling  coldness,  nor  the  force  of  the  torrent  which  hurried  me  along, 
nor  even  the  sudden  flight  of  the  river  goddess,  could  dispel  my  poetic 
illusion.  Still  entranced,  I  floated  for  a  time  on  the  surface  of  the  waves, 
which  disputed  the  possession  of  my  person  as  if  it  had  been  their  de- 
stined prey.  Scarcely  giving  a  thought  to  the  dangers  by  which  I  was 
surrounded,  I  resigned  myself  without  a  struggle  to  the  violence  of  the 
current.  At  one  moment,  like  a  truant  nurseling,  I  felt  myself  gently 
rocked  in  the  arms  of  the  Saone ;  while,  at  the  next,  the  Rhone  bore  me 
furiously  away.  Soon  after,  placed  in  a  manner  within  the  influence  of 
the  two  rival  streams  which  opposed  a  counterpoise  to  each  other,  I  re- 
mained stationary,  and  at  such  moments  the  smiling  vision  returned. 
For  an  instant  my  divinity  appeared  so  close,  that,  prompted  by  an  irre- 
sistible impulse,  I  rushed  forward  to  seize  her  in  her  flight :  but  she 


1830J  The  Half-Drowned  Englishman.  49 

eluded  my  grasp.  I  lost  all  consciousness  of  material  existence  ;  I  passed 
into  a  state  of  repose,  of  placid  slumber,  visited  by  a  blissful  trance — 
one  of  those  fairy  dreams  too  bright  to  last,  too  fleeting  to  be  remem- 
bered. When  I  awoke,  I  found  myself  in  a  peasant's  farm-house.  The 
shades  of  evening  already  darkened  the  hills,  the  oxen  lowed  mourn- 
fully in  an  adjoining  stable,  and  the  rustic  family  were  anxiously  col- 
lected around  me,  whilst  my  head  was  supported  by  one  of  those  comely 
and  sturdy  boatmen  that  are  usually  to  be  found  on  the  banks  of  the 
Rhone. 

"  Such  was  my  momentary  exit : — a  rapturous  dream,  nothing  more. 
I  perfectly  coincide  in  opinion  with  the  Italian  and  the  Mahometan  that 
death  in  its  various  shapes  ought  not  to  be  regarded  as  an  evil.  The 
penal  execution  of  Italy,  the  despotic  butchery  of  the  east,  the  systema- 
tic suicide  of  the  west,  are  all  alike  devoid  of  terror.  Since  the  day 
that  afforded  me  a  glimpse  of  the  grisly  monarch's  dominions,  I  have 
been  a  convert  to  the  doctrine  of  the  philosopher  who  wisely  contended 
that  life  and  death  were  the  same  thing ;  and  I  can  only  add,  that  since 
I  was  once  fairly  and  soundly  asleep,  they  who  took  the  trouble  to 
awaken  me  performed  a  most  ill-natured  office." 

So  great  had  been  the  interest  excited  by  the  Englishman's  strange 
confession,  that  even  for  some  minutes  after  he  had  ceased  speaking,  the 
general  attention  continued  unabated.  When  at  length  a  renewed  buzz 
announced  the  recommencement  of  the  discussion  on  capital  punishment, 
the  question  was  argued  as  hotly  as  ever.  The  opponents  of  the  mea- 
sure, however,  were  hard-pushed.  I  repeat  that  nothing  silences  a  tough 
disputant  so  effectually  as  a  good  story  seasonably  introduced.  It  is  a 
knock-down  argument.  The  partisans  of  legal  execution  returned  with 
vigour  to  the  charge.  Proofs  and  illustrations  were  multiplied  without 
end.  Death  was  pronounced  a  mere  bugbear.  More  than  two-thirds  of 
the  company,  by  their  own  account,  had  at  least  once  in  their  existence 
visited  that  supposed  "  undiscovered  country  from  whose  bourne  no  tra- 
veller returns  •"  and  yet,  by  way  of  belying  the  bard,  were  at  that  iden- 
tical moment  alive  and  merry,  and  ready  for  another  trip.  One  gentle- 
man perfectly  recollected  having  been  run  through  the  body,  and  assured 
us  that  the  introduction  of  cold  iron  into  the  regions  of  the  diaphragm 
produced  rather  an  agreeable  sensation — a  cool,  refreshing  titillation. 
Another  had  received  "  a  bullet  in  the  thorax,"  and  had  ever  since  been 
extremely  partial  to  that  species  of  aperient  pill.  A  third  had  fractured 
his  skull  in  several  places  with  considerable  advantage  to  its  interior  con- 
tents, as  he  had  ever  afterwards  been  remarkable  for  the  liveliness  of  his 
fancy,  and  the  pungency  of  his  wit.  A  tertian  ague  was  a  mere  baga- 
telle ;  and  could  any  thing  be  compared  to  the  pleasurable  excitement, 
the  delightful  delirium,  produced  by  fevers  of  every  denomination,  ty- 
phus, cerebral,  or  intermittent  ?  As  to  hanging,  my  Italian  brigand  had 
settled  that  point,  having  proved  beyond  the  possibility  of  a  doubt  that 
nothing  could  be  more  delicious  than  to  swing  into  the  other  world  on  a 
windy  day.  It  was  soon  decided  by  a  large  majority,  that  the  numerous 
and  estimable  members  of  the  Jack  Ketch  family,  dispersed  over  various 
parts  of  the  world,  were  really  entitled  to  public  gratitude,  and,  for  their 
efforts  to  check  the  redundancy  of  population,  merited  the  civic  wreath 
which  the  ancient  Romans  in  their  ignorance  adjudged  to  the  ill-advised 
citizen  who  had  warded  the  stroke  of  death  from  a  member  of  society. 

At  this  stage  of  the  discussion,  a  fat  abbe,  "  of  fair  round  belly,  with 

M.  M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  55.  G 


50  A  Visit  to  Ceuta, 

good  capon  lined,"  ventured  to  put  in  one  word.  During  the  greater  part 
of  the  debate  the  worthy  man  had  been  buried  in  an  arm-chair  opposite 
to  the  Turk,  to  whose  portrait  his  would  have  formed  an  admirable  ap- 
pendage, and  had  ruminated  profoundly,  in  the  attitude  of  a  high  feeder 
undergoing  the  tedious  process  of  digestion.  Rising  with  effort  from  his 
seat,  and  placing  himself  like  an  ample  screen  in  front  of  the  fire-place, 
while  his  little  twinkling  eyes  peered  complacently  around, — "  Gentle- 
tlemen,"  said  he,  "  you  talk  this  matter  well :  but  if  I  were  to  describe 
the  fate  which  I  once  narrowly  escaped,  if  you  could  only  for  an  hour 
or  two  experience  the  horrors  of  a  surfeit,  you  would  speak  in  more  re- 
spectful terms  of  the  grim  king  of  terrors.  Death  has  many  doors — all  of 
them,  in  my  opinion,  disagreeable  enough  ;  but  take  my  word  for  it,  it  is 
no  joke  to  be  despatched  into  eternity  by  an  indigestible  Strasburgh  pie !" 


A    VISIT    TO    CEUTA,    THE    SPANISH   PRESIDIO   ON    THE    COAST    OF 

BARBARY. 

FROM  THE  JOURNAL  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 

AT  the  time  the  fortifications  of  Tangiers  were  blown  up,  and  that 
town  abandoned  by  the  English,  Gibraltar  was  not  an  appendage  to  the 
British  crown.  Had  the  acquisition  of  that  fortress  been  anticipated,  it 
would  have  been  a  want  of  common  sense  to  have  parted  with  so  valu- 
able a  prop  of  sustenance  as  Ceuta  would  be  to  Gibraltar.  But  our 
predecessors  are  to  be  blamed  for  a  want  of  foresight,  at  a  time  when 
the  Barbary  powers  were  much  more  formidable  than  they  are  at  present, 
in  not  retaining  a  possession  on  the  coast  of  Western  Barbary,  from 
which  the  Moors  might  at  any  time  be  intimidated  by  marching  a  force 
into  their  country  to  frustrate  their  plans  or  punish  their  aggressions.  It 
is  useless  to  refer  to  the  disasters  which  have  happened  on  like  occasions 
to  the  French  and  Spaniards  of  former  times.  The  military  power  of 
the  Moors  is  now  next  to  nothing  !  The  political  state  of  the  empire  of 
Morocco  has,  as  well  as  that  of  other  countries,  undergone  revolutions, 
but  change  has  brought  them  no  amelioration ;  on  the  contrary,  it  has 
lessened  their  effective  strength.  The  Turks  in  former  times  fought 
well,  and  were  deemed  a  difficult  enemy  to  cope  with  ;  that  charm  is  now 
dispelled  by  the  unopposed  successes  of  the  Russians  !  *  The  eyes  of 
the  world  are  now  opened  to  the  actual  resistance  which  can  be  offered 
to  a  European  foe  by  these  powers.  The  possession  of  any  point  on  this 
coast  from  which  we  could  march  an  army  into  the  emperor  of  Morocco's 

*  All  Bey  has  well  foretold  where  the  Osmanli  would  be  found  in  the  hour  of  danger,  and 
what  would  be  the  effect  of  unfurling  the  prophet's  standard  !  That  writer  has  justly 
pointed  out  the  difference  between  real  courage  and  the  excitement  of  fanaticism  which  turns 
aside  from  the  first  check  of  opposition.  The  Turks  now  seek  to  bury  their  swords  in  the 
heart  of  the  sultan,  merely  to  get  rid  of  one  who  is  but  too  well  acquainted  with  their 
treachery!  If  it  were  not  for  the  greater  danger  Europe  would  incur  by  allowing  Russia 
to  extend  her  empire  over  Turkey,  such  a  step  would  perhaps  prove  a  service  to  mankind. 

After  the  successes  of  Russia  in  the  east  and  the  entrance  of  her  fleet  into  the  Mediter- 
ranean, it  would  not  be  surprising  if  she  should  insist  on  a  proper  respect  being  paid  to  her 
flag  by  the  Barbary  States.  The  Moors  tremble  for  the  result  of  Russian  projects ;  for, 
independent  of  their  real  causes  of  fear,  they  have  a  current  superstition  that  the  Mahom- 
medan  empire  will  not  endure  above  1200  years.  The  time  already  elapsed  beyond  the 
twelve  centuries  is  considered  "days  of  grace  !" 


1830.]  The  Spanish  Presidio  on  the  Coast  of  Earbary.  51 

dominions  would  be  a  terror  that  would  force  that  power  into  a  compli- 
ance with  any  thing  we  might  dictate.  The  Moors  have  a  perfect 
horror  of  a  train  of  field  artillery,  and  it  is  almost  absurd  to  mention  at 
what  odds  the  English  could  fight  with  such  weapons.  They  are  the 
worst  gunners  in  the  world  even  on  land  batteries.  They  can  neither  fire 
with  celerity,  nor  have  they  any  accurate  idea  of  simply  adjusting  the 
length  of  a  fuse  to  the  distance  intended  to  throw  a  shell.  Such  is  the 
known  deficiency  of  the  Moors  in  gunnery,  that  the  Emperor  of  Morocco 
is  obliged  to  send  his  subjects  to  Europe  to  have  them  instructed  in  that 
art.  This  necessity  gave  rise  to  a  circumstance  in  which  the  ludicrous 
and  tragic  are  so  blended,  that,  notwithstanding  the  fatal  part  of  the 
transaction,  it  is  difficult  Jo  repress  a  smile  at  their  superstitious  prejudices. 

Six  Moors  were  sent  to  Gibraltar,  to  be  instructed  in  the  art  of  gunnery. 
Whilst  practising  at  Europa  Flats,  under  the  command  of  an  English 
officer,  and  assisted  by  a  party  of  English  gunners,  one  of  the  guns,  from 
some  defect,  burst,  and  strewed  the  platform  with  the  limbs  of  three  of 
the  unfortunate  Moors.  Strange  to  say,  the  English  artillerymen  all 
remained  unhurtr  The  Moors  looked  upon  this  providential  exception 
in  favour  of  the  English  not  exactly  as  the  effect  of  chance,  but  rather  as 
some  invisible  design  to  punish  them  alone  j  for,  at  a  subsequent  muster, 
they  could  not  be  brought  to  their  work ;  they  insisted  on  returning  to 
their  own  country,  exclaiming,  { '  No,  no !  we  see  how  your  English  guns 
refuse  to  kill  Christians  !  we  will  not  stay  here  to  be  sacrificed !" 

There  is  some  share  of  blame  due  to  our  Ministry  to  have  given  back 
Ceuta  to  the  Spaniards,  at  a  time,  it  was  well  known  from  experience, 
there  existed  a  necessity  of  keeping  a  depot  near  to  so  important  a  fort- 
ress as  Gibraltar,  which  is  totally  dependent  for  provisions  (even  vege- 
tables) on  foreign  resources.  It  may  perhaps  be  urged,  that  we  could  not 
retain  a  place  which  we  merely  held  in  trust  during  the  Peninsular  war, 
to  prevent  its  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  French,  who  would  thereby 
have  contested  with  us  the  mastery  of  the  Mediterranean.  By  the  same 
rule  that  it  would  have  been  an  annoyance  to  us  in  their  hands,  it  may 
become  so  in  possession  of  the  Spaniards,  with  whom  we  might  at  one 
time  have  negotiated  for  its  retention  on  very  easy  terms.  Spain  would 
readily  have  consented  to  any  proposition  of  the  sort ;  it  would  have  been 
a  rod,  with  which  we  could  have  chastised  the  Moors,  and  it  would  at  all 
times  have  afforded  the  most  valuable  relief  to  the  garrison  of  Gibraltar. 
It  may  not  be  so  easy  a  matter  as  is  supposed  to  retake  it  when  required. 
There  is  scarcely  any  means  so  sure  of  keeping  the  Moors  in  subjection 
as  to  establish  a  footing  on  their  territory,  an  advantage  which  perhaps 
we  shall  discover  hereafter. 

CEUTA*  is  only  six  leagues  distant  from  Gibraltar  across  the  straits. 
It  lies  midway  between  Tangiers  and  Tetuan,  in  the  most  charming  and 
romantic  country  the  eye  ever  beheld.  From  the  "  Hacho,"  or  signal 
station  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  which  forms  the  extreme  end  of  the 
bay,  the  prospect  is  the  finest  that  can  be  imagined.  It  commands  an 
entire  view  of  the  straits  east  and  west,  and  the  opposite  mountains  of 
Spain,  the  Sierra  Nevada.  On  the  land  side  the  view  is  bounded  south- 
ward by  the  long  blue  line  of  the  lower  range  of  the  Atlas  mountains, 

*  Ceuta  is  supposed  to  have  been  built  by  the  Carthaginians,  and  afterwards  appertained 
to  the  Romans,  by  whom  it  was  colonized.  It  next  became  the  metropolis  of  the  places 
which  the  Goths  held  in  Hispania  Transfretana,  and  was  after  that  abandoned  to  the  Arabs 
and  the  Moors  by  Count  Julian.  It  was  taken  by  the  Portuguese  in  1415. 

G  2 


52  A  Visit  to  Ceuta, 

which  already  in  the  distance  leap  into  the  skies.  The  beautiful  azure 
of  these  mountains,  the  refracted  hues  which  glitter  and  sparkle  on  their 
sides,  the  huge  shapes  they  assume,  look  as  if  Nature  had  sported  with 
these  masses  of  earth  to  show  man  his  vanity  and  insignificance !  They 
already  give  the  beholder  a  faint  idea  of  their  gigantic  parent,  the  snow- 
clad  Atlas,  from  whose  refreshing  breath  in  the  plains  of  Morocco  the 
languishing  Arab  inhales  a  vigour  to  support  the  exhaustion  of  that 
burning  zone. 

The  fore-ground  of  this  picture  is  the  most  verdant  copse  and  cover, 
in  which  game  lies  as  thick  as  in  a  preserve.  At  a  short  distance  in  the 
uplands  is  seen  the  solitary  castle  of  the  Moorish  alcalde ;  and  here  and 
there  are  scattered  Martello  watch-towers,  from  whose  tops  the  wild 
head  of  the  Arab  sentinel  is  now  and  then  seen. 

A  Spanish  escort  of  cavalry  accompanied  us  to  the  Moorish  lines, 
where  we  roused  the  guard  from  their  tents.  They  arose  from  their 
straw  as  fantastically  dressed  as  mad  Tom  in  Lear.  On  seeing  a  party 
of  English  they  exclaimed,  "  Ah  good  English,  fine  English  !"— that 
talisman  flattery  not  being  forgotten  even  here,  where  so  little  occasion 
exists  for  bringing  its  power  into  action.  We  despatched  one  of  the 
grisly  messengers  with  a  small  present  to  the  alcalde.  He  bounded 
over  bush  and  heather  to  the  lone  castle  like  a  wizard.  In  the  distance 
we  saw  his  emphatic  explanatory  gestures  of  who  the  strangers  were,  and 
what  they  wanted.  He  soon  returned  with  the  permission  required  to 
shoot  over  the  country,  and  explained  to  us  "  that  the  land  was  all  our 
own,"  a  figurative  Moorish  compliment ! 

The  town  of  Ceuta  is  chiefly  of  Portuguese  and  Spanish  construction, 
and  is  extremely  clean  and  healthy.  The  salubrity  of  the  climate,  and 
its  total  exemption  from  the  fevers  which  ravage  the  opposite  coast  of 
Spain,  is  proverbial.  It  is  infinitely  preferable  to  Gibraltar,  where  the 
eternal  Levanter  darkens  the  sky,  and  covers  the  skin  with  a  damp 
vapour ;  where  the  subtle  white  dust  of  the  rock  creeps  into  the  closest 
recesses  ;  and  where  the  natural  heat  of  the  climate  is  augmented  by  a 
reflexion  of  the  sun's  rays  from  the  stupendous  sides  of  a  perpendicular 
white  mountain,  rendering  the  temperature  almost  insupportable. 

Some  of  the  best  regiments  in  the  Spanish  service  are  kept  here  in 
garrison,  which  amounts  to  about  six  thousand  men — a  force  by  no  means 
too  great  to  defend  the  place,  to  keep  the  prisoners  in  order  and  the 
Moors  in  respect.  One  particular  part  of  the  town  is  allotted  to  the 
residence  of  the  Moorish  inhabitants,  who  chose  to  remain  here  at  the 
time  of  the  conquest  of  Ceuta  by  the  Portuguese.  This  quarter  is  the 
only  part  of  the  town  not  of  European  structure.  The  low  flat-roofed 
Moorish  houses  are  here  preserved ;  and  the  Moors  of  Ceuta  retain  their 
costume,  religion,  and  privileges,  the  same  as  in  a  Mahommedan  country 
— privileges  which  have  been  secured  to  them  by  different  grants  of  the 
Spanish  monarchs.  They,  in  return,  are  bound  to  furnish  a  guard  for 
his  Spanish  Majesty's  service,  and  are  once  or  twice  a  year  mustered  as 
a  matter  of  form.  They  are  governed  by  their  own  alcaid  or  chief, 
whose  dress  on  state  occasions  is  very  splendid,  over  which  he  wears  a 
scarlet  bernous *  trimmed  with  gold  lace.  It  is  not  generally  the  custom 

*  The  bernous  is  a  mantle  with  a  hood  or  cap.  In  bad  weather  this  hood  is  drawn  over 
the  turban ;  and  then  the  mantle  itself,  which  is  generally  hanging  on  the  back,  is  drawn 
round  the  body.  The  woof  is  of  cotton  and  silk,  impervious  to  water  from  its  close  texture. 


1830.]  The  Spanish  Presidio  on  the  Coast  ofBarbary.  53 

amongst  Moors  of  distinction  to  wear  splendid  costume :  those  possess- 
ing rank  or  power  have  a  sort  of  reliance  upon  their  native  dignity, 
which  seems  to  suit  rather  more  civilized  notions  than  they  are  generally 
supposed  to  possess. 

They  have  likewise  amongst  them  a  lady  to  whom  they  pay  homage 
as  their  sovereign.  They  say  she  is  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  Abencerrages 
who  were  driven  from  Spain  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  after  the  con- 
quest of  Grenada.  They  call  her  the  Princess  Almansora,  and  acknow- 
ledge her  as  their  sultana.  Her  appearance  bespeaks  any  thing  but  roy- 
alty ;  for,  from  the  princess  down  to  the  lowest  of  her  subjects,  they  are 
all  alike — poverty  and  dirt  have  despoiled  them  of  all  idea  of  grandeur  ! 

The  Moors  regard  those  who  reside  in  this  town,  and  who  have  accepted 
of  the  protection  of  the  Spanish  monarch,  as  renegades,  and  would  kill 
them  if  found  in  any  other  part  of  Barbary,  where  they  durst  not  venture. 
The  Mahommedaii  ladies  do  not  here  conceal  their  faces ;  and  instead  of 
their  husbands' jealousy  being  thereby  excited,  they  are  flattered  by  any 
curiosity  which  leads  a  stranger  to  look  at  them. 

Ceuta  is  by  no  means  a  disagreeable  residence,  though,  from  its  being 
a  presidio,  a  prejudice  is  generally  entertained  that  it  must  be  very  dis- 
mal. It  certainly  tires  the  mind's  eye  to  be  perpetually  doomed  to  view 
the  same  scene,  however  beautiful ;  but  this  reproach  is  equally  applicable 
to  Gibraltar,  where  the  communication  with  Spain  is  subject  to  many 
restrictions. 

The  Alameyda  of  Ceuta  is  a  very  picturesque  promenade,  being  a 
levelled  space  or  walk  between  two  mountains,  and  can  boast  its  pro- 
portion of  female  beauty  and  grace  with  any  town  in  Spain.  The  ladies 
of  Ceuta  have  indeed  always  rivalled  the  Andalusians.  Neither  the 
prado  of  Seville  nor  Cadiz  can  boast  a  greater  proportion  of  fine  forms 
and  exquisitely  small  feet,  that  monopolized  attraction  of  Spanish  women. 
Their  pride  of  carriage,  and  seeming  haughty  turn  of  the  swan-like  crest, 
to  adjust  the  already  but  too  well-posed  mantilla,  beneath  which  steals 
many  a  soul-searching  glance,  might  almost  pardon  an  episode  from  an 
anchorite's  pen  in  praise  of  their  charms.  The  beauty  of  the  national 
costume  of  Spain  is  certainly  highly  becoming  to  their  shape  and  fea- 
tures. In  vain  does  any  other  nation  wear  the  basquina  with  advantage. 
English  women  appear  as  much  out  of  their  element  in  the  majo  dress 
as  they  would  be  at  a  fiesta  de  toros  applauding  the  fierceness  of  a  bull 
which  gores  the  horse  and  endangers  the  picador,  all  of  which  a  Spanish 
lady  may  do  with  impunity. 

The  contraband  traffic  of  Spain,  it  is  well  known,  fills  the  prisons  of 
this  place  annually  with  an  immense  number  of  delinquents,  who,  when 
foiled  in  their  smuggling  speculations  by  the  guardias  de  rentas,  take  to 
the  "  mountain  and  the  glen"  with  as  little  remorse  as  if  the  transition 
were  nothing  more  than  natural  to  turn  robbers  when  misfortunes  over- 
take them.*  These  are  confined  in  the  lower  part  of  the  town,  and  are 

*  The  reader  may  judge  of  the  present  disorganization  of  Spain,  when  he  is  told,  that  the 
diligence  from  Seville  to  Madrid  is  escorted  through  the  province  of  La  Mancha  by  the 
robbers  themselves,  whom  the  administration  of  diligences  have  been  obliged  to  take  into 

their  pay.  Mr.  R ,  an  English  merchant  at  Madrid,  with  whom  the  writer  had  the 

pleasure  of  travelling,  pointed  out  one  of  the  escort  of  the  diligence  who  had  robbed  him 
professionally  a  year  previous. 

Amongst  some  of  the  means  resorted  to  for  getting  rid  of  the  robbers  in  Spain,  the  following 
has  been  recorded.  A  formidable  band  had  for  a  long  time  infested  one  of  the  provinces, 
setting  the  menaces  and  efforts  of  the  government  at  defiance.  They  had  been  smugglers, 


54  A  Visit  to  Ceuta,  [JULY, 

obliged  to  work  in  fetters,  in  repairing  the  fortifications,  cleansing  the 
streets,  clearing  the  port,  £c. 

The  state-prisoners  are  not  allowed  any  intercourse  with  the  inhabitants 
of  the  town,  the  residence  of  whom  is  on  the  mountain.  They  are  the  only 
portion  of  the  prisoners  who  really  excite  compassion,  men  of  noble  minds 
and  great  families,  whole  cargoes  of  whom  were  quietly  shipped  off  from 
Barcelona,  at  the  period  of  Ferdinand's  late  visit,  for  no  other  cause  than 
suspicion  of  disaffection  to  the  reigning  government.  The  noble  devo- 
tion of  the  wives  of  some  of  these  men,  who  voluntarily  share  the  cap- 
tivity and  sorrow  of  their  husbands,  affords  an  example  of  affection 
seldom  surpassed. 

The  attempt  at  fraud,  of  an  ingenious  rogue  now  in  confinement  here, 
is  not  one  of  the  least  curious  pieces  of  villany  that  has  been  devised  in 
a  prison.  This  man  profited  from  the  juncture  of  the  Barcelona  banish- 
ments to  write  to  a  merchant  at  Gibraltar  (many  of  whom  then  in- 
terfered to  protect  the  property  of  the  exiles  from  confiscation),  requesting 
him  to  take  charge  of  a  consignment  of  cocoa  and  sugar  daily  expected 
from  the  Havannah.  He  represented  himself  as  unfortunately  implicated 
in  the  Barcelona  conspiracies,  under  the  necessity  of  throwing  himself 
on  the  generosity  of  a  British  merchant  to  preserve  to  him  the  remainder 
of  his  fortune.  He  stated  the  cargo  to  be  worth  75,000  dollars,  and 
transmitted  the  bills  of  lading,  with  an  order  to  detain  the  ship  at  Gib- 
raltar, at  which  port  she  was  to  touch  on  her  homeward  voyage  to  Bar- 
celona. The  letter  concluded,  as  a  mere  secondary  and  unimportant 
consequence,  by  requesting  an  advance  of  12,000  dollars  on  the  bill  of 
lading.  This  was  a  demand  which  no  merchant  in  the  world,  on  receipt 
of  such  documents,  would  have  refused ;  but  from  excess  of  caution  it 
was  determined  to  advance  no  more  than  5,000  dollars,  and  that  not 
until  it  was  in  the  power  of  the  person  to  make  inquiries  concerning  the 
truth  of  such  vessel  and  cargo  being  bound  for  Gibraltar,  which  the 
arrival  of  another  captain  from  the  Havannah  confirmed  in  every 
particular. 

A  person  was  despatched  to  the  noble  prisoner — for  he  was,  in  fact, 
a  man  of  rank—  with  the  5,000  dollars,  and  an  apology  for  the  non-pos- 
sibility of  advancing  any  further  sum  till  the  arrival  of  the  vessel. 
Already  was  the  prisoner,  at  sight  of  the  messenger,  preparing  to  count 
the  money  which  the  welcome  visitor  had  brought,  when,  to  his  great 
disappointment,  he  only  received  the  sum  above  stated.  He  flew  into 
a  passion,  vowed  vengeance  against  the  trembling  messenger,  whose 
position  was  rather  a  critical  one,  from  the  mystery  and  stratagem  that 
had  been  employed  to  procure  this  interview  with  a  state-prisoner, 
which  is  strictly  prohibited. 

Alarmed  at  his  threats,  the  affrighted  messenger  in  haste  and  agitation 
sought  to  retrace  his  steps  to  the  port,  in  order  to  embark  for  Gibraltar. 
Before  he  could  gain  the  felucca,  the  alarm  was  given,  the  envoy  was 
brought  before  the  governor,  and,  on  what  appeared  to  be  the  clearest 

and  had  kept  the  revenue-officers  in  pay  for  years,  who  at  last  betrayed  the  hold  where 
their  merchandize  was  kept,  and  caused  it  to  be  seized.  Desperation  for  the  loss  of  their  pro- 
perty drove  them  to  the  mountains,  from  whence  they  issued  to  bury  their  remorseless 
blades  in  the  breast  of  the  helpless  traveller,  whose  unpided  shrieks  resounded  to  the 
skies  in  vain.  The  government,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  them,  offered  a  reward,  to  every 
robber  who  should  bring  in  the  head  of  his  companion,  and  a  free  pardon  to  the  survivor. 
Nearly  the  whole  of  the  banditti  were  thus  exterminated  by  each  other.  Those  who 
claimed  the  promised  pardon  were  sent  where  they  could  not  make  their  stories  known. 


1830.]  The  Spanish  Presidio  on  the  Coast  of  Barb  any.  55 

evidence,  was  convicted  of  carrying  on  a  communication  with  the  prisoners 
and  their  political  party  in  Spain.  Explanation,  or  the  offer  of  tendering 
proofs  in  favour  of  his  innocence  were  considered  an  impudent  aggrava- 
tion of  the  offence ;  he  was  therefore  thrown  into  prison. 

It  is  almost  unnecessary  to  say  the  bills  of  lading  were  forged,  and 
that  the  whole  was  a  deliberate  plan  of  robbery,  founded  on  an  insight 
into  some  correspondence  on  the  subject  of  this  cargo,  which  belonged  to 
another  person,  and  which  had  accidentally  fallen  under  the  prisoner's 
observation.  After  a  lapse  of  some  time,  the  Spanish  authorities  were 
convinced  of  the  fraud,  and  liberated  the  person  who  had  innocently  been 
exposed  to  the  loss  of  his  liberty,  but  no  redress  could  be  afforded  to  the 
unfortunate  merchant  for  the  loss  of  his  money. 

The  fortifications  of  Ceuta,  on  the  side  towards  the  Moorish  territory, 
are  of  immense  height,  and  truly  formidable.  The  numerous  convicts 
have  from  time  to  time  erected  a  range  of  batteries  which  "  laugh  a  siege 
to  scorn."  Much  has  been  added  since  the  attack  the  Moors  made  to 
regain  possession  of  this  place  about  thirty-five  years  since.  If  all  the 
embrasures  were  mounted  with  cannon,  which  they  are  not,  it  might  on 
the  land  side  be  ranked  as  impregnable ;  but  the  poverty  of  the  Spaniards, 
and  the  spoliations  of  different  nations,  have  caused  the  loss  of  the  most 
valuable  bronze  and  brass  artillery  that  any  nation  ever  possessed. 

The  Emperor  of  Morocco,  in  his  last  visit  to  Tangiers,  passed  this 
fortress  on  his  route  from  Tetuan,  on  approaching  which  he  exclaimed, 
"  Ah !  that  is  the  land  of  the  Christians,  who  have  given  us  so  much 
trouble  !"  It  is  said  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  walls  with  a  wishful  look, 
but  they  defy  the  power  of  the  Moors  to  make  any  farther  efforts  to  take 
the  place. 

A  deputation  from  Ceuta  went  out  to  meet  the  sultan  in  order  to  treat 
regarding  the  boundary  of  their  different  territories,  which  had  never  till 
then  been  settled.  According  to  that  invariable  custom  in  Barbary, 
without  which  it  is  impossible  to  advance  a  step,  the  deputation  gave  the 
emperor  some  valuable  presents,  which  induced  him  to  settle  the  dis- 
puted point  according  to  the  wish  of  the  Spaniards.  His  majesty  refused 
to  enter  the  walls  of  the  garrison,  into  which  his  army  would  not  of 
course  have  been  admitted;  but  requested  the  deputation,  which  con- 
sisted of  the  principal  military  officers  of  the  place  to  follow  him  to  Tan- 
giers, where  the  business  was  definitively  arranged. 

The  Spaniards  have  a  ridiculous  jealousy  on  the  subject  of  the  fortifi- 
cations of  Ceuta.  Whilst  one  of  our  party,  the  late  Lieutenant  O 
(who  fell  in  the  fever  of  Gibraltar),  was  sketching  a  view  of  the  Barbarjr 
mountains  from  the  deck  of  his  little  yacht,  which  lay  at  anchor  in  the 
canal  which  makes  this  place  an  island,  we  found  ourselves  suddenly 
under  the  unexpected  care  of  an  officer  and  his  guard,  who,  from  the 
ramparts  above  our  heads,  in  the  most  violent  and  angry  tone,  hailed  us 
to  desist  from  taking  a  plan  of  the  fortifications,  threatening  to  fire  if  we 
attempted  to  move.  The  folly  of  such  a  suspicion  was  explained;  which 
not  being  inclined  to  believe,  he  held  us  prisoners  till  our  offence  was 
represented  to  the  governor,  who  politely  sent  his  aide-de-camp  in  his 
barge  to  desire  us  to  wait  on  him  with  the  sketch.  On  being  assured 
that  it  was  but  a  view  of  the  Barbary  mountains,  and  that  the  plans  of 
the  fortifications  of  Ceuta  were  too  well  known  in  England  to  need 
any  intention  on  our  part  to  make  fresh  ones,  he  seemed  satisfied  with 
the  explanation ;  but  on  producing  the  unfortunate  sketch,  an  angle  of 
one  of  the  bastions  had  really  been  introduced  in  the  fore-ground,  which 


56  A  Visit  to  Ceuta.  [JULY, 

angle  caused  an  impediment  to  our  liberation.  A  council  was  called, 
at  the  head  of  which  the  commanding  officer  of  engineers  presided.  Sen- 
tence was  however  pronounced  in  favour  of  our  innocence,  and  to  the 
great  disappointment  of  our  accuser  we  were  liberated  ! 

Convicts  often  make  their  escape  from  this  fortress  into  Barbary,  which 
is  not  difficult  at  periods  of  low  tide,  which  leaves  the  beach  sufficiently 
dry  to  pass  along  the  sea-shore  to  the  Moorish  lines,  if  they  can  escape 
the  vigilance  of  the  Spanish  sentries.  The  only  condition  on  which  the 
Moors  consent  to  protect  the  fugitives  is  that  of  their  becoming  Mahom- 
medans  :  if  they  do  not  apostatize,  they  are  delivered  back  to  the  Spa- 
niards. Certain  religious  ceremonies  render  the  adoption  of  his  faith, 
an  inconvenient  and  dangerous  experiment  at  an  advanced  period  of  life; 
but  there  is  no  alternative  for  them  :  the  punishment  which  awaits  their 
return  is  more  dreadful  than  the  one  proposed  ;  they  therefore  generally 
consent  to  the  latter,  and  make  up  their  minds  to  settle  in  the  country. 
Notwithstanding  the  change  of  costume,  and  the  disguise  of  the  shorn 
head  and  turban,  it  is  easy  to  discover  these  converts  from  the  genuine 
Moors.  Such  is  the  zeal  of  the  Mahommedans  to  convert  Christians  that 
they  are  satisfied  thus  to  force  their  faith  upon  them  ;  but  the  moment  the 
unfortunate  renegade  has  submitted  to  all  they  require,  they  openly  ma- 
nifest their  contempt,  and  give  him  to  understand  his  progeny  even  to 
the  third  generation  can  only  then  be  considered  pure  Mussulmen.  They 
watch  over  him  to  prevent  his  escape  from  the  country,  any  attempt  at 
which  would  cost  him  his  liberty,  perhaps  his  life  ! 

I  recollect  meeting  with  a  renegade  at  work  in  the  gardens  of  the 
American  consul  at  Mount  Washington  near  Tangiers.  Beneath  his 
turban  there  appeared  features  more  Hibernian  than  Arabesque.  In  reply 
to  a  question  asking  him  to  what  country  he  belonged,  he  answered  in 
the  true  vernacular  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  <(  that  his  country  was  that  in 
which  he  found  his  bread."  A  tender  cord  was  touched  ;  but  he  conti- 
nued, "that  in  his  youth  he  had  been  a  sailor  shipwrecked  on  the  coast; 
that  a  number  of  wild  Arabs  had  fallen  on  the  captain  and  the  crew,  whom 
they  had  murdered  ;  but  that  his  life  had  been  spared  in  pity  to  his  youth, 
on  consenting  to  become  a  Mahommedan." 

The  real  truth  of  Sidi  Abdallah's  shorn  head,  which  I  afterwards 
learnt,  was  this : — He  had  remained  in  Spain  after  the  peninsular  war,  in 
which  he  had  served.  Some  slight  misdemeanors  had  caused  him  to 
be  transported  to  Ceuta,  from  whence  he  had  made  his  escape.  On  his 
way  across  the  country  he  observed  a  woman  washing  clothes  at  a  brook. 
Sidi  Abdallah,  then  Tom  O'Reilly,  or  some  such  name,  boldly  advanced 
towards  her ;  but  the  nearer  he  approached,  the  more  closely  did  the  lady 
muffle  herself  up  in  her  shawls.  This,  instead  of  serving  him  as  a  warn- 
ing to  retire,  only  tended  to  whet  the  edge  of  his  youthful  curiosity ! 
He  found  means,  by  dint  of  money,  to  induce  the  damsel  to  exhibit  her 
face ;  but  soon  regretted  the  expense  he  had  been  at,  for  she  was  one  of 
those  ugly,  broad-nosed,  thick-lipped  creatures,  with  the  complexion  of  a 
mummy,  belonging  to  the  half-castes.  He  turned  from  the  sight  in  dis- 
gust, when  he  found  his  path  intercepted  by  half  a  dozen  Moors,  who 
had  witnessed  his  interesting  interview  with  the  lady,  and  had  determined 
on  making  him  pay  the  penalty  of  his  impertinent  curiosity  !  He 
was  placed  in  confinement,  and  was  doomed  to  die  !  On  consideration  of 
his  inexperience  of  Moorish  customs,  he  was  however  offered  the  alterna- 
tive of  marrying  the  woman  and  becoming  a  Mahommedan,  which  he 
thought  proper  to  accept. 


1830.]  [    57    ] 


NAVAL  AFFAIRS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 

IN  resuming  our  discussion  of  the  important  subject  which  the  pam- 
phlet of  Sir  Charles  Penrose  has  forced  on  the  consideration  of  men  in 
power,  we  are  led  to  revert  to  the  Admiral's  practical  suggestions  touch- 
ing the  necessity  of  an  alteration  in  the  tonnage  and  artillery  of  our 
vessels.  In  order  that  this  desired  alteration  should  be  made  on  a  safe 
and  satisfactory  basis,  Sir  Charles  recommends,  as  will  have  been  seen  in 
our  last,  a  series  of  experiments. 

"  These  experiments  would  necessarily  lead  to  much  of  that  increased 
exercise  and  experience  afloat  which  I  so  strongly  recommend.  It  is  only  by 
seeing  ships  of  different  classes  together,  in  all  the  various  circumstances  of 
wind  and  sea,  that  any  correct  opinion  of  their  real  qualities  can  be  formed; 
and  many  of  our  younger  officers  must  necessarily  be  completely  uninformed 
in  these  particulars.  I  should  therefore  try  together  one  or  more  of  our 
first-rates,  new  eighty-gun  ships,  razzed  seventy-fours,  twenty-four  and 
eighteen-pounder  frigates;  and  as  we  have  unfortunately  a  considerable 
number  of  almost  new  twenty-eight-gun  ships,  which  in  their  present  state 
are  only  calculated  to  disappoint  and  disgrace  us,  I  should  see  whether,  by  con- 
verting them  into  corvettes,  their  sailing  qualities  might  not  be  considerably  im- 
proved, and  they  would  at  all  events  be  reduced  to  their  real  denomination  in 
point  of  force.  A  larger  class  of  corvette,  with  sufficient  breadth  to  carry  heavy 
Jong  guns,  is  however  so  indispensably  necessary,  that  I  should  not  rest  until  I 
had  succeeded  to  my  full  satisfaction  in  this  particular.  Here  such  officers  as 
Captains  Hayes  and  Symonds,  who  are  experienced  seamen  as  well  as  excellent 
naval  architects,  would  afford  the  greatest  assistance ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that 
the  second,  if  not  the  first  attempt,  would  produce  a  most  desirable  vessel  of  this 
class." 

Here  we  disagree  with  the  Admiral.  The  measure,  as  regards  the 
Eight-and-twenties,  is  an  impolitic  one,  as  we  feel  certain  would  be 
admitted  by  those  scientific  officers  alluded  to.  To  convert  any  one  of 
this  class  of  frigates  to  the  description  of  corvette  designated,  is  totally 
impracticable,  inasmuch  as  the  original  structure  is  deficient  in  that 
breadth  of  beam  indispensably  necessary  in  the  formation  of  the  vessel 
proposed  to  carry  such  weight  of  metal  as  would  be  required.  No,  no; 
this  is  not  the  way  to  rid  ourselves  of  those  (f  fatal  and  perfidious 
barks,"  which,  in  the  words  of  Sir  Charles,  are  "  only  calculated  to 
disappoint  and  disgrace  us."  Let  us  have  no  half  measures :  banish 
them  at  once  from  his  Majesty's  service,  and,  by  so  doing,  give  con- 
fidence to  our  captains  of  frigates,  who,  although  proverbially  brave 
and  loyal,  would  scarcely  feel  themselves  justified  in  meeting  an  Ame- 
rican or  French  vessel  bearing  the  same  delusive  name,  but  being,  in 
point  of  fact,  of  nearly  double  force.  Had  it  not  been  for  this  calami- 
tous oversight,  or  rather  obstinate  resistance  to  improvement,  on  the 
part  of  our  Admiralty  board,  the  natural  tendency  of  "  Jonathan"  to 
imitate  the  little  self-flatteries  of  that  worthy  gentleman  Captain  Bobadil 
would  have  been  useless  for  lack  of  matter. 

Were  we  asked  how  we  should  propose  to  free  ourselves  from  these 
miscalled  frigates,  which  are  the  reproach  of  our  navy,  our  reply  would 
be,  f'  Sell  them  to  the  merchants  of  the  country,  for  they  are  just 
calculated  for  West  Indiamen,  or  East  India  register  ships."  If  our 
naval  administration  design  to  put  our  ships  of  every  class  on  a  par 
respectively  with  those  of  other  nations,  let  us  do  as  other  maritime 

M,  M.  New  Series.— Vol.  X,  No.  55.  H 


58  Naval  Affairs  of  Great  Britain. 

powers  have  done  and  are  still  doing ;  that  is  to  say,  let  us  build 
de  novo,  for  assuredly  in  no  other  way  can  we  fairly  cope  with  them. 
In  speaking  of  the  flush-deck  vessels  of  the  United  States,,  Admiral 
Penrose  informs  us,  that  the  Americans  say,  "  that  their  corvettes, 
armed  with  long  twenty-four  pounders  for  chase  guns,  will  be  able 
to  beat  off  our  eighteen-pounder  frigates ;  and  certainly,  if  their  supe- 
riority in  sailing  be  equal  to  their  extraordinary  weight  of  metal,  such 
an  event  is  by  no  means  impossible."  This  being  the  opinion  of  the 
admiral,  whose  inference  is  made  by  himself  to  depend  entirely  upon 
superiority  of  sailing,  we  cannot  but  wonder  how  he  could  recommend 
the  conversion  into  corvettes  of  a  class  of  frigates,  among  whose  miserable 
qualities  that  of  bad  sailing  is  notoriously  not  the  least  apparent,  and 
which,  as  they  must  necessarily  continue,  in  their  metamorphosed  state, 
with  the  same  construction  of  bottom,  would  be  as  inefficient  in  one 
shape  as  contemptible  in  the  other.  Pursuing  the  subject,  our  author 


"  The  French,  I  hear,  are  building  some  of  nearly  equal  force :  and  shall  we, 
while  these  improved  and  superior  vessels  are  rising  up  on  all  sides  around  us, 
obstinately  persist  in  our  old  system,  until  defeat  and  shame  too  late  convince  us 
of  our  error  ?" 

Yes,  judging  by  experience,  it  is  to  be  feared  we  shall  do  so ;  for 
our  "  defeat  and  shame"  in  the  American  war  has  not  been  productive 
of  the  good  lessons  usually  to  be  learned  of  adversity.  It  would  seem 
as  if  we  were  covetous  of  "  defeat  and  shame ;"  for  though  our  men 
in  power  cannot  but  be  aware  that  the  French  are  not  only  building, 
but  have  built  and  put  into  commission,  frigates  of  superior  force  to 
any  we  possess  (witness  those  employed  in  the  present  expedition  to 
Algiers*),  still  no  measures  are  taken  on  our  part  to  place  ourselves  on 
an  equality,  in  this  particular,  with  other  maritime  powers.  It  was  not 
until  we  lost  three  or  four  frigates  in  the  American  war,  that  we 
thought  it  might  be  rather  advisable  to  cut  down  two  of  our  seventy- 
fours  (the  Majestic  and  Saturn),  and  form  them  into  what  are  called 
razees,  that  they  might  be  sent  out  to  the  American  coast  to  drive 
into  their  own  ports  those  frigates  of  the  United  States  which,  until 
then,  with  no  other  opposition  than  our  frigates  of  comparatively  small 
size,  had  successfully  swept  the  seas.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  observe, 
that  our  heavy  squadrons  could  have  no  effect  on  the  fast-sailing  frigates 
of  America ;  and  our  own  ships  of  that  denomination,  which  could  alone 
bring  the  enemy  to  action,  had  no  chance  from  being  so  incomparably 
inferior  in  force. 

With  reference  to  another  class  of  vessels,  still  more  calamitous  in 
their  employment  than  the  frigates  just  spoken  of,  namely,  Ten-gun  brigs, 
the  use  of  which  we  deprecated  in  our  last  number,  the  admiral  says, 

"  I  further  recommend  entirely  discontinuing  our  ten-gun  brigs,  considering 
them  most  inefficient  vessels  of  war,  and  the  expense  they  occasion  a  most 
complete  waste  of  the  public  money.  A  certain  number  of  the  eighteen-gun 
brigs,  on  the  contrary,  as  brigs,  would,  I  have  no  doubt,  always  be  found  very 
useful  as  small  cruizers  when  judiciously  employed,  and  kept  chiefly  on  those 
stations  (the  West  Indies,  for  instance,  and  the  Mediterranean)  where  enemies' 
vessels  of  their  own  class  are  principally  to  be  found.  To  employ  them  indis- 

*  These  frigates  mount  sixty  thirty-two  pounders,  and  each  ship  carries  a  crew 
consisting  of  five  hundred  men. 


1830.]  Naval  Affairs  of  Great  Britain.  59 

criminately  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  or  to  keep  them  on  the  coast  of  North 
America,  or  in  the  Bay  of  Biscay  during  winter,  could  prove  only  that  total  want 
of  consideration  as  well  as  professional  knowledge  which  is  most  discreditable 
in  the  conduct  of  naval  affairs !" 

The  Admiral's  meaning  is  here  not  clearly  to  be  understood.  In  one 
part  of  the  foregoing  extract,  he  alludes  to  the  incompetent  force  of 
our  brigs  when  employed  on  certain  stations  where  enemies'  vessels  of 
their  own  class,  but  of  superior  size,  are  likely  to  cruize ;  in  another 
part  of  the  paragraph,  Sir  Charles  seems  to  deprecate  the  use  of  these 
vessels,  because  they  are  not  adapted  to  bad  climates.  Both  these 
reasons  are  valid  in  themselves ;  but,  to  have  due  force,  they  should 
have  been  distinctly  stated,  and  not  confused  in  one  observation.  The 
admiral  would  have  forwarded  his  object  more  effectually  had  he 
pointed  out  the  dreadful  deprivations  necessarily  suffered  by  those  who 
are  forced  to  embark  in  brigs  indiscriminately  "  stationed."  But  the 
secret  of  having  so  many  small  vessels  in  commission  is  to  be  detected 
in  the  fact  that  opportunity  is  afforded  thereby  to  give  command  to 
a  number  of  youthful  sprigs  of  nobility ;  for  were  the  Admiralty  to 
confine  the  navy  to  ships  of  real  utility,  the  patronage  of  that  body 
would  be  fearfully  crippled,  and  the  junior  aristocracy  would  be 
entirely  thrown  upon  the  tender  mercies  of  the  army  and  the  church. 
This  system,  it  must  be  confessed,  carries  with  it  a  bane  and  antidote  ; 
for  if  these  young  patricians  are  the  cause  of  the  superfluity  of  inefficient 
vessels,  they,  in  their  turn,  do  their  utmost  to  reduce  the  number  of 
such  ships  to  its  proper  level,  according  to  the  notion  of  a  certain 
sea-senator,  who  said,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  that  until  Ireland  was 
brought  to  its  proper  level,  by  being  twenty-four  feet  under  water, 
no  good  would  come  to  the  country.  In  proof  of  our  opinion  as  regards 
the  unsought-for  diminution  of  the  craft  in  question,  we  may  assert 
that  more  small  vessels  have  been  lost,  in  proportion,  during  the  present 
peace,  than  have  been  destroyed  in  many  preceding  years  of  war. 
This  has  been  long  known  to  every  naval  man  in  the  kingdom ;  and  so 
frequent  have  the  losses  become  that,  at  length,  even  the  landlords  of 
the  Admiralty  have  gradually  opened  their  eyes  to  the  fact.  Indeed  a 
recent  court-martial  has  thought  it  might  not  be  amiss  to  make  a  sort 
of  example  of  one  of  our  beardless  captains ;  and,  accordingly,  pour 
encourager  les  autres,  one  of  our  young  Admiralty  aspirants  has  received 
a  check,  by  losing  his  commission  for  having  grounded  one  of  his 
Majesty's  brigs,  himself  not  being  well  grounded  in  his  profession.  In 
this  respect  what  was  sauce  for  the  goose  was  not  sauce  for  the  gander. 
The  captain  and  not  the  vessel  should  have  been  well  grounded. 

It  is  remarkable,  considering  the  care  which  Sir  Charles  Penrose  has 
evidently  bestowed  on  his  subject,  that  he  should  have  omitted  to  par- 
ticularize a  certain  arbitrary  exercise  of  power  in  the  present  admini- 
stration of  our  naval  affairs.  We  allude  to  the  practice  of  "  scratching 
off  the  list"  the  names  of  many  valuable  officers  without  court-martial, 
or  previous  investigation  of  any  kind.  Persons  in  office  seem  to  think 
that  an  act,  which  converts  a  gentleman  into  a  pauper,  may  be  committed 
without  the  necessity  of  assigning  any  other  reason  than  that  "  it  is  the 
pleasure  of  His  Majesty  "  whereas  it  is  well  known  that  His  Majesty 
would  be  the  last  man  in  his  own  dominions  to  do  an  unconstitutional 
act ;  for  martial  law  ought  to  be  compounded  of  the  same  elements  as 
civil  law,  one  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  which  is,  that  no  man 


60  Naval  Affairs  of  Great  Britain.  [JULY, 

may  be  punished  without  trial !  It  may  reasonably  be  wondered  why 
some  of  our  soi-disant  patriots,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  do  not 
demand  a  list  of  officers  who  have  suffered  dismissal  without  an  official 
inquiry  into  their  conduct ;  for  the  consultation  between  three  lords  of 
the  Admiralty,  who  do  not  call  on  the  party  for  his  defence,  cannot  be 
designated  an  official  investigation.  We  know  that  the  principal  cause 
of  dismissal  is  to  be  found  in  the  circumstance  of  our  officers  sometimes 
seeking  employment  in  the  service  of  our  allies,  rather  than  be  forced 
into  jail,  or  starvation  on  the  miserable  pittance  at  home,  given  as  a 
remuneration  for  long  and  hard  services.  Instead  of  taking  away  the 
commissions  of  honourable  men  who  have  offended  in  the  above  man- 
ner, it  would  be  wiser  and  juster  to  inquire  into  the  cause  which  led 
to  the  necessity  of  their  seeking  subsistence  abroad. 

The  Admiral's  observations  on  the  expediency  of  introducing  steam- 
vessels  in  our  marine  for  the  purposes  of  war  are,  on  every  account, 
worthy  of  the  most  serious  attention :  — 

'f  I  observe  that  in  the  French  navy-estimates  for  1829,  the  minister  of 
marine  demands  an  extra  sum  of  7,000,000  francs  for  the  express  purpose  of 
the  construction  of  steam-vessels ;  but  I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  learn  that 
our  attention  has  been  turned  as  seriously  as  the  importance  of  the  subject 
requires,  towards  any  preparations  for  this  new  species  of  maritime  warfare. 
Here  I  am  afraid  our  old  habits  and  prejudices  again  oppose  the  progress  of 
improvement,  and  that,  while  we  look  back  with  deep  regret  on  those  golden 
days  when  an  order  in  council  directed  that  no  two-decked  ship  should  in  future 
be  built  larger  than  the  Repulse,  and  no  frigate  larger  than  the  Euryalus,  we 
cannot  yet  screw  up  our  courage  to  try  experiments  with  armed  steam-vessels, 
trusting,  I  suppose,  that  sailing  will  last  our  time ;  but  that  in  the  event  of 
any  extraordinary  emergency  requiring  it,  we  may  be  able  to  purchase  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  the  Leith  and  Dublin  traders  to  answer  our  purpose.  It  is 
very  true  this  may  be  possible  to  a  certain  extent;  but  as  it  is  the  bounden 
duty  of  those  entrusted  with  the  conduct  of  public  affairs  to  prepare  against 
evident  dangers,  and  not  to  lavish  the  public  resources  in  guarding  against  those 
which  no  longer  exist,  why,  may  I  ask,  do  we  not  reflect  that  we  are  misap- 
plying the  funds  granted  for  naval  purposes,  when  we  employ  them  in  the 
construction  of  vessels  which  are  no  longer  required  ?  and  that  half  the  sum 
expended  since  1815  in  twenty-eight-gun  ships  and  ten-gun  brigs,  would  have 
created  a  respectable  flotilla  of  steam-vessels,  and  enabled  us  to  try  in  time 
all  those  experiments  with  this  new  species  of  force,  which  appear  now  to  be 
delayed  until  the  emergency  for  its  employment  actually  arrives  ?  We  have 
still  every  thing  to  learn  with  respect  to  their  equipment  for  war,  and  how 
many  invaluable  days  and  weeks  will  be  lost,  while  (with  all  the  mistakes  and 
miscarriages  inseparable  from  the  want  of  full  information  and  experience) 
we  are  hastily  arming  and  fitting  out  a  number  of  vessels  constructed  for  other 
service,  and  but  imperfectly  adapted  to  the  purposes  of  war." 

We  are  not  unaware  that  a  strong  prejudice  exists  among  professional 
men  against  the  introduction  of  steam-vessels  into  the  British  navy. 
"  Steam-jacks,"  as  they  have  been  termed,  are  the  abhorrence  of  many; 
but  when  it  is  known  that  other  nations  are  intent  upon  employing  this 
powerful  agent  for  warlike  purposes,  we  should  not  be  astern  of  the  lighter, 
or  behind  our  neighbours  in  making  experiments  to  ascertain  its  eligi- 
bility. Though  the  French  may  be  said  to  be  "  young  in  steam,"  they 
are  not  backward  in  attempting  to  satisfy  themselves  of  its  capability  in 
hostile  operations :  indeed,  we  know  that  at  this  moment  no  fewer  than 
seven  "  steamers"  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  horse  power,  and  carrying 
from  ten  to  fourteen  guns,  accompany  the  French  expedition  against 
Algiers. 


1830.]  Naval  Affairs  of  Great  Britain.  CM 

But,  as  we  have  already  said,  the  Navy,  which  ought  to  be  the  prin- 
cipal consideration  of  government,  is  scarcely  ever  thought  of  by  our 
military  rulers.  Lord  Byron  said  that — 

Nelson  was  once  Britannia's  god  of  war, 

And  still  should  be  so,  but  the  tide  is  turn'd  ; 
There's  no  more  to  be  said  of  Trafalgar, 

'Tis  with  our  hero  quietly  inurn'd ; 
Because  the  Army's*  grown  more  popular, 

At  which  the  naval  people  are  concern'd  ; 
Besides,  the  Prince  is  all  for  the  land-service, 
Forgetting  Duncan,  Nelson,  Howe,  and  Jervis." 

It  is,  we  suppose,  to  this  decline  and  fall  in  the  good  graces  of  the 
high  and  mighty,  that  the  peace  establishment  of  our  navy  is  suffered 
to  continue  in  so  shabby  a  state.  Let  us  hear  what  was  said  on  this 
subject,  four  years  ago,,  by  an  able  naval  officer  (Captain  A.  J.  Griffiths), 
whose  pamphlet  on  Impressment,  from  which  the  following  passage  is 
derived,  has  had  little  more  than  a  private  circulation,  having,  oddly 
enough,  been  published  at  Cheltenham,  which  is  not  precisely  the  kind 
of  watering-place  favourable  to  the  sale  of  a  work  on  maritime  affairs  ! 
We  shall  be  doing  a  public  service,  if  we  can  contribute  to  raise  the 
very  able  production  of  Captain  Griffiths  from  unmerited  obscurity. 
Mr.  Hume,  in  particular,  should  "  read,  mark,  learn,  and  inwardly 
digest  it." 

"  It  is  self-evident  that  the  demand  for  seamen  on  the  commencement  of  war, 
must  be  in  proportion  to  the  numbers  employed  in  the  peace ;  and  the  effects  of 
revulsion  on  the  first  burst  of  war,  from  the  very  great  supply  necessary  to  be 
taken  from  the  merchant's  service,  must  be  so  pressing,  as  to  render  it  highly 
important  to  reduce  its  numbers  as  far  as  can  possibly  be  done.  Dependence  on 
the  impress  to  man  our  fleets,  and  the  reduction  of  expense  during  peace,  have 
induced  the  naval  establishment  to  be  placed  on  the  very  lowest  scale  which 
national  safety,  and  the  care  of  our  numerous  colonies,  would  possibly  permit. 
Another  reason  also  for  an  addition  to  our  present  numbers  has  also  been  given, 
in  the  chapter  on  "  The  Inefficiency  of  future  Impress/'  among  which  the  pro- 
bably lessened  number  of  foreigners  in  our  service  is  a  material  consideration. 
We  are  not  sanguine  of  obtaining  consent  to  such  an  augmentation  as  in  our 
opinion  would  be  wise.  The  navy,  which  should  be  the  last,  has  ever  been  the 
first  service  visited  by  reduction.  Lulled  in  the  security  of  peace,  the  present 
saving  is  all  that  is  considered  ;  forgetting  the  old  adage  of  ec  penny  wise  and 
pound  foolish."  It  is  too  self-evident  to  admit  of  a  doubt,  that  every  increase  of 
numbers  employed  in  the  peace,  correspondingly  reduce  the  demand  on  the  com- 

*  On  this  subject  Admiral  P.  observes,  "  I  am  far  from  wishing  to  draw  invidious  com- 
parisons, or  to  repine  at  the  superior  advantages  enjoyed  by  our  sister  profession,  which 
leads  to,  instead  of  excluding  from,  the  highest  honours  of  the  state;  yet  1  cannot  but  see 
that  our  naval  departments  are  degenerating  into  political  engines,  and  the  smallest  possible 
number  of  professional  men  permitted  to  take  part  in  their  deliberations. 

"  Let  me  only  contrast  this  system  with  that  pursued  in  our  military  offices.  At  the 
Horse  Guards  the  commander-in-chief  is  a  general  officer :  all  his  staff,  adjutants  and 
quarter-master-general,  and  their  deputies,  military  secretary,  &c.  are  exclusively  military. 
The  secretary-at-war  is  a  colonel  in  the  army  ;  the  whole  of  the  Board  of  Ordinance, 
master-general,  lieutenant-general,  surveyor-general,  &c.  &c.  are  all  military  men  ;  not  a 
single  naval  officer  is  admitted,  although  all  the  alterations  and  experiments  on  naval 
ordnance  are  tried  at  Woolwich,  and  (as  I  have  heard)  very  great  unnecessary  expense  often 
incurred  from  the  want  of  that  information  which  professional  experience  can  alone  afford ; 
all  the  minor  branches,  comptrollers  of  army  accounts,  &c.  are  equally  filled  by  valuable 
officers,  whose  previous  habits  peculiarly  qualify  them  for  the  duties  of  their  station  ;  but 
when  we  turn  our  eyes  towards  our  naval  departments,  what  an  extraordinary  contrast  do 
they  present !" 


62  Naval  Affairs  of  Great  Britain.  [JULY, 

mencement  of  war,  proportionally  lessen  the  evil  of  impressment,  and  the 
pressure  on  the  trade  of  the  country.  It  appears  that  on  war  breaking  out, 
thirty  thousand  additional  seamen  would  at  once  be  required :  and  it  must  be 
quite  clear,  if  an  additional  thirty  thousand  were  employed  in  the  peace,  none 
would  be  wanted  ;  no  call  on  those  in  the  merchant's  employ  would  be  requisite. 
If  then  only  an  additional  five  thousand  were  employed,  the  demand  would  be 
reduced  to  the  same  amount,  and  the  revulsion  occasioned  by  change  from  peace 
to  war  would  thereby  be  materially  diminished.  We  would  then  propose  an 
increase  of  at  least  five  thousand  to  the  present  peace  establishment.  Expense 
being  the  great  objection  to  overcome,  our  purpose  will  be  to  show  how  this 
augmentation  may  be  obtained  with  the  least  pressure  on  the  finances.  The 
ships  in  commission  have  generally  reduced  complements.  The  cost  of  the  wear 
and  tear  of  the  ships,  rigging,  sails,  and  ordnance,  are  the  same,  whether  with 
the  present  short  crews,  or  with  the  full  ones.  The  wages  and  victualling  would 
consequently  be  nearly  the  whole  additional  charge ;  and,  further  to  reduce  the 
amount,  our  proposition  is  to  create  this  number  of  seamen,  by  employing  five 
thousand  well  grown  able-bodied  youths,  of  the  age  of  from  sixteen  to  eighteen ; 
to  receive  wages  at  the  rate  of  eighteen  to  twenty  shillings  per  month.  If  these 
lads  were  put  into  the  tops,  and  after-guard,  instructed  in  the  duties  of  seamen, 
and  duly  taken  care  of,  in  two  years  they  would  become  most  valuable  men. 
To  induce  them  to  enter,  the  time  of  the  servitude  should  be  limited  to  three 
years,  and  the  promise  of  ordinary  seaman's  rating  at  the  end  of  two,  if  they  put 
themselves  forward.  The  advantages  of  this  plan  would  not  be  confined  to  the 
actual  increase  of  seamen.  From  the  ships  being  more  efficiently  manned, 
reduced  discontent,  too  often  the  cause  of  desertion,  could  not  fail  to  attend  it, 
as  well  as  the  lessened  necessity  of  impress  which  would  consequently  result. 
These  men  would,  in  all  probability,  stick  to  the  navy  through  life.  Those 
commencing  their  career,  and  brought  up  as  it  were  in  the  navy,  are  little  likely 
to  prefer  the  labour  and  toil  of  the  merchant's  employ ;  precisely  as  the  domestics 
of  the  wealthy,  with  little  work  and  pampered  feeding,  are  not  found  to  return 
to  the  loom  or  the  plough.  Lads  of  this  description,  well  selected,  placed  under 
the  immediate  care  of  the  captains  of  the  forecastle,  tops,  &c.  and  duly  attended 
to  by  the  officers,  would  speedily  become  most  efficient  and  valuable  men.  That 
no  difficulty  would  be  found  to  procure  them,  may  be  fairly  inferred  from  the 
fact  before  stated,  that  none  is  found  to  obtain  workmen  for  any,  even  the  most 
disgusting  and  unhealthy  employs.  Let  justice  be  done  to  those  who  serve,  let 
the  abolition  of  the  impress  be  seriously  attempted,  let  the  seamen  and  the  popu- 
lation see,  and  feel,  such  was  the  conduct  they  may  rely  on  experiencing,  and 
a  rational  hope  might  be  indulged  of  finding  volunteers.  One  thing  is  self-evident, 
that  the  abolition  of  the  impress  and  a  small  peace  establishment  are  perfectly 
irreconcileable  !  !  The  utmost  inducement  trie  nation  is  capable  of  offering, 
could  not  produce  the  numbers  wanted  on  the  commencement  of  war,  unless 
such  numbers  were  materially  lessened  by  a  considerable  increase  of  those  usually 
employed  in  peace. 

"PETTY  OFFICERS. — These  are  unquestionably  the  primest men  in  the  service. 
It  has  been  shown,  page  130,*  that  the  portion  of  these  classes  now  in  the  navy 

*  "  The  peace  establishment  is  so  comparatively  small,  and  the  system  of  withholding  the 
pensions  which  have  been  granted,  from  men  who  serve,  has  at  once  driven  away  and 
excluded  from  the  navy  that  important  class  of  seamen — the  petty  officers.  At  the  con- 
clusion of  the  war,  we  possessed  a  proportion  of  these  invaluable  men  for  115,000;  while 
since  the  peace,  the  proportion  we  have  employed  is  that  of  about  the  odd  15,000.  You 
cannot  expect  men  who  had  been  boatswain's  mates,  gunner's  mates,  quarter-masters,  &c. 
to  come  and  serve  in  the  navy  as  private  seamen  !  Men  of  this  description  are  worth  their 
price  any  where,  and  nothing  but  positive  distress  would  induce  them  to  descend  in  the 
scale ;  besides  that  all  these,  and  indeed  all  our  seamen  who  from  servitude  receive  pensions, 
could  not  be  expected  to  enter.  Where  is  the  inducement  ?  The  king's  pay,  even  since 
the  last  regulation,  is  not  equal  to  that  of  the  merchant  service,  and  every  pensioned  petty 
officer  and  seamen  losing  these,  while  serving,  it  bona  Jide  amounts  to  a  prohibition.  In- 
stead, therefore,  of  their  being  won  to  the  service,  thus  are  they  excluded,  and  by  whom 


1830.]  Naval  Affairs  of  Great  Britain.  63 

cannot  be  an  eighth  of  those  we  possessed  at  the  conclusion  of  the  war,  and  that, 
under  the  present  system,  they  are  actually  driven  out  of  the  service.  A  set  of 
good  petty  officers  is  an  incalculable  advantage  to  a  ship :  they  may  be  said  to 
give  efficiency  to  a  badly  manned  ship.  We  propose  an  additional  number  to  be 
allowed  to  the  ships  during  peace,  say  two  hundred  and  fifty.  There  are  now 
about  one  hundred  and  thirty  men  of  war  in  commission,  so  that  it  would  be 
hardly  more  than  one  to  each.  What  a  foundation  for  the  ship's  companies  of 
twenty  or  twenty-five  sail  of  the  line  these  additional  petty  officers  would  be ! 
On  the  breaking  out  of  a  war,  with  the  officers,  the  marines,  and  these  men, 
they  might  be  said,  in  efficiency,  to  be  one  third  manned.  As  such  men  would 
be  comprised  in  the  general  number  employed,  the  only  additional  expense  these 
extra  ratings  would  incur  would  be  the  little  increased  pay,  above  that  of  the 
able  seamen ;  a  perfect  insignificancy  when  compared  with  the  high  value  of 
these  men's  services." 

The  above  considerations,  we  think,  should  not  be  neglected  by  our 
senatorial  seamen.  Not  that  we  have  much  hope  from  these  honour- 
able gentlemen,  who,  however  independent  some  of  them  may  be  on 
other  topics,  are  invariably  acquiescent  in  any  measure  originating  in 
the  Admiralty,  and  who  sit  quietly  and  hear  the  grossest  official  mis- 
statements,  aware  of  the  existence  of  many  official  sins  as  well 
of  omission  as  of  commission.  Why  should  this  wretched  subserviency 
be  required  ?  It  is  a  bad  sign  when  a  public  body  cannot  afford  to 
permit  persons  who  are  in  its  power  to  speak  their  opinions  honestly. 
This  is  not  only  hurtful  to  power  itself,  but  is  utterly  destructive  of  that 
tone  of  mind  in  individuals  without  which  neither  public  nor  private 
good  can  long  subsist.  "  The  political  liberty  of  the  subject,"  says 
Montesquieu  in  his  Spirit  of  Laws,  book  xi.  chap.  6,  "  is  a  tranquillity 
of  mind,  arising  from  the  opinion  each  person  has  of  his  safety.  In 
order  to  have  this  liberty,  it  is  requisite  that  the  government  be  so 
constituted  as  that  one  man  need  not  be  afraid  of  another."  It  is 
nothing  but  the  fear  of  loss  of  favour  that  keeps  the  professional  mem- 
bers of  the  House  of  Commons  from  discharging  properly  their  duty 
to  their  constituents  and  to  the  country.  It  is  in  vain  for  any  of 
them  to  say,  "  I  am  no  orator  as  Brutus  is  ;"  for  oratory  is  not  required 
of  them,  nor  would  oratory  stand  them  in  the  least  stead.  What  is 
wanted  is  a  plain  exposition  of  that  which  is  wrong,  an  honest  guidance 
towards  that  which  may  be  right ;  and  a  service  of  this  kind  is  better 
done  in  few  than  in  many  words.  We  have  it  from  the  competent 
authority  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  himself,  that  the  only  object  of 
long  parliamentary  speeches  is  to  mislead  and  confound.  But  even 
should  eloquence  be  once  in  a  way  necessary,  the  occasion  will  never 
fail  to  inspire  it,  if  the  speaker  be  familiar  with  his  subject.  A  wise 
English  writer  has  said  that  "  What  we  know  thoroughly,  we  usually 
express  clearly,  since  ideas  will  supply  words,  but  words  will  not 
supply  ideas.  I  have  myself  heard  a  common  blacksmith  eloquent, 
when  welding  of  iron  has  been  the  theme." 

But  we  fear  that  independence  is  not  to  be  expected  from  men  who 
are  under  so  serious  a  liability  as  are  our  naval  officers.  The  evil  is 
without  a  cure  ;  and  yet  it  is  impossible  not  to  lament,  and  difficult  not 
to  reprehend  it. 

are  they  replaced  ?  In  addition  to  our  own  observation,  we  have  the  authority  of  others 
whose  opinions  carry  infinitely  greater  weight,  that  many  sent  to  the  navy  now,  are  fit  only 
for  sweepers." 


64  Naval  Affairs  of  Great  Britain.  £JuLY, 

Sir  Charles  Penrose  has  "  done  the  State  some  service"  in  writing  the 
pamphlet  before  us.  It  is  true  that  he  is  not  always  correct  in  his 
objurgations ;  but  that  he  should  be  so  for  the  most  part  is  enough  to 
warrant  his  friends  in  their  determination  to  print  what  had  been 
embodied  by  the  pen  of  the  veteran  admiral.  We  have  not  hesitated  to 
say  openly  that  we  coincide  with  him  in  most  of  the  sharp  rebukes 
directed  against  the  powers  that  be ;  and  we  shall  endeavour  to  be 
equally  candid  in  opposing  him  where  his  strictures  are  not  founded  in 
justice.  As  regards  naval  discipline,  for  example,  he  says : — 

"  I  had  earnestly  hoped,  in  common  with  many  of  my  brother  officers,  that 
advantage  would  have  been  taken  of  this  long  period  of  profound  peace,  to  digest 
and  introduce  some  material  improvements  into  our  general  system  of  naval 
discipline ;  and  that  while  our  civil  and  military  codes  have  been  gradually  and 
almost  imperceptibly  assuming  a  milder  spirit,  and  becoming  more  in  unison 
with  the  altered  temper  of  the  age,  and  with  the  general  disposition  which 
prevails  amongst  enlightened  men  to  govern,  as  far  as  may  be  possible,  by  reason 
rather  than  by  force,— I  had  hoped,  I  say,  that  this  important  subject  would  not 
have  escaped  the  attention  of  our  naval  administration. 

"  I  am  fully  aware  of  the  difficulty  and  delicacy  of  the  task,  and  that  any 
undue  relaxation  of  the  reins  of  discipline  might  be  to  the  full  as  dangerous  and 
pernicious  as  the  opposite  extreme;  but  I  cannot  believe  that  in  this,  as  well 
as  in  all  other  human  affairs,  there  is  not  a  happy  medium  by  no  means  impos- 
sible of  attainment;  and  remembering,  as  I  too  well  do,  all  the  occurrences 
which  led  to  the  fearful  explosion  in  1797,  I  feel  doubly  anxious  that  our 
system  of  discipline  afloat  should  be  so  regulated  and  mitigated  as  to  prevent, 
as  far  as  possible,  those  sad  instances  of  individual  harshness  and  severity,  which 
I  would  gladly  expunge  from  my  memory,  but  which  I  have  no  doubt  con- 
tributed very  materially  towards  the  subsequent  discontents." 

In  this  particular,  we  know  that  the  Admiralty  is  not  only  not  to  be 
blamed,  but  deserves  the  thanks  of  the  nation.  The  punishment  of 
flogging  at  the  individual  will  of  a  commander  is  now  very  rare  ;  and 
the  navy  is  not,  as  Sir  Charles  insinuates,  behind  either  civil  or  military 
jurisprudence  in  the  wise  mildness  of  its  punishments.  Captains  of 
men  of  war  have,  in  late  years,  been  compelled  to  make  quarterly 
reports  of  all  punishments  whatever  inflicted  on  board  their  respective 
ships,  and  it  cannot  be  denied  that  this  salutary  regulation  has  had  its 
origin  at  head-quarters.  Sir  Charles  Penrose  cannot,  therefore,  be 
borne  out  in  his  strictures  on  this  head ;  more  particularly  when  he 
speaks  of  the  discipline  of  1797,  as  compared  with  that  at  present 
observed.  We  shall  not,  after  what  we  have  said,  be  accused  of  undue 
partiality  for  the  present  naval  administration  of  our  country;  but, 
in  denouncing  what  we  think  is  evil,  let  us  not  be  tempted  to  overlook 
or  misrepresent  that  which  is  obviously  good. 


1830].  [    65     ] 


AFFAIRS  OF  BRITISH  INDIA. 

THE  second  grand  fallacy  upon  which  our  Indian  reformers  have 
mounted  and  careered — as  witches  upon  fiery  steeds,  which  "  glamour" 
alone  prevents  the  spectators  from  perceiving  to  be  nothing  but  bean- 
stalks— is  built  upon  the  truism  that  human  nature  is  universally  the 
same ;  and  that,  consequently,  our  conduct  as  the  rulers  of  Hindostan, 
should  be  regulated  by  general  principles,  without  regard  to  any  pecu- 
liarities of  national  character,  the  in-grained  habits  of  the  people  with 
whom  we  have  to  deal,  or  the  unprecedented  nature  of  the  situation 
which  we  occupy.* 

In  other  words,  the  argument  of  these  philosophers  is  this :  the  mind 
of  man  is  everywhere  the  same,  but  as,  under  a  favourable  combination 
of  circumstances,  men  have  obtained  a  far  larger  share  of  liberty,  security, 
and  social  happiness  in  some  countries  than  in  others,  it  follows,  as  a  con- 
sequence, that  if  we  transplant  the  institutions  under  which  the  former 
people  have  flourished,  nothing  further  will  be  wanting  to  raise  the  less 
favoured  nation  to  the  same  level.  We  cannot  force  the  oak  to  grow  in 
India,  it  is  true,  nor  can  we  raise  the  bamboo  in  England,  for  in  those 
respects  the  differences  of  soil  and  climate  interpose  insuperable  obstacles ; 
but  the  mind  of  universal  man  is  one,  whether  he  dwell  beneath  the 
tropics  or  within  the  arctic  circle ;  he  loves  liberty  and  plenty  in  every 
quarter  of  the  globe,  and  we  have  not  yet  found  a  people  who  have  a 
passion  for  taxation.  Therefore,  there  can  be  but  one  mode  of  proceed- 
ing, deal  with  whom  we  may  ;  and  it  is  only  reasonable,  when  we  have 
a  delightfully  spacious  field  before  us  whereupon  to  erect  a  fabric  of 
legislation,  to  build  upon  the  model  of  that  which  has  already  been  found 
so  admirably  adapted  to  the  works  and  wishes  of  one  of  the  branches 
of  the  great  family  of  mankind.  Trial  by  jury,  for  instance,  is  an  insti- 
tution to  which  Englishmen  are  extremely  partial  (though  Mr.  Bentham 
thinks  it  an  unphilosophical  prejudice),  but  human  nature  is  universally 
the  same ;  ergo,  let  the  Hindoos  be  empanelled  incontinently.  Again, 
the  unrestricted  freedom  of  the  press  has  effected  more  for  England  than 
all  the  wisdom  of  her  senators,  and  all  the  valour  of  her  warriors;  and 
time  and  long  habit  have  rendered  even  the  worst  excesses  of  the  gigantic 
moral  engine  comparatively  innoxious.  But  as  the  mental  faculties  and 
feelings  of  the  natives  of  India  are  essentially  the  same  as  those  of 
Englishmen,  those  who  doubt  that  a  free  press  would  work  wonders  for 
our  fellow- subjects  in  the  East,  must  be  influenced  either  by  bigotry  or 
self-interest,  f  The  next  step  is  the  denouncement  of  the  Company  and 

*  "  General  principles"  is  the  stock  phrase  of  the  day,  which  has  succeeded  to  its  equiva- 
lent, so  much  in  favour  with  Philosopher  Square,  "  the  unalterable  rule  of  right,  and  the 
eternal  fitness  of  things."  The  value  of  both  aphorisms  consists  in  the  vagueness  which 
renders  them  equally  useful  on  all  occasions,  and  facilitates  sophistry  and  evasion. 

-f-  E.  g.  "  The  same  general  principles  which  are  applicable  to  Ireland,  are  equally  appli- 
cable to  India.  There  may  be  trifling  differences  in  the  modes  of  their  application  ;  but 
these  will  be  found  trivial  and  unimportant.  Human  nature  is  pretty  much  the  same  in  all 
ages  and  climates.  What  is  fundamentally  true  of  it  under  a  fair  complexion,  is  equally 
so  under  a  brown  or  black  one.  It  cannot  be  transmuted  to  serve  the  interested  purposes  of 
patronage  or  party.  When  we  legislate  for  the  Hindoos,  in  short,  we  legislate  for  men,  and 
not  for  creatures  of  a  clouded  and  egoistical  imagination."  Free  Trade  and  Colonization, 
p.  55.  Mr.  Crawfurd  has  the  grace  to  make  some  slight  qualifications,  but  with  those  ex- 
ceptions, every  sentence  is  more  or  less  a  fallacy.  It  is  a  mere  insult  to  our  understandings 
M.  M.  New  Series.— -VoL.  X.  No.  55.  4  I 


C6  Affairs  of  British  India.  £JuLY, 

its  servants,  and  the  apotheosis  of  Messrs.  Buckingham  and  Arnot,  as 
martyred  patriots. 

Goddess  of  common  sense !  what  would  Mr.  Hoby  say  if  he  were 
advised  to  make  all  his  boots  upon  one  last,  because  human  feet  were 
universally  the  same,  and  all  his  customers  had  heels  and  insteps  ?  Could 
the  most  ingenious  breeches-maker  in  this  metropolis  cut  out  a  pair  of 
leathern  "  continuations"  upon  such  undeniable  "  general  principles/' 
with  regard  to  the  human  form  in  the  abstract,  as  that  they  should  sit, 
with  equal  elegance  and  satisfaction  to  the  party,  upon  Mr.  Buckle,  of 
Newmarket,  and  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  ?  We  are  rather 
inclined  to  think  not.  Is  it  an  easier  task  to  fit  the  mind,  without  indi- 
vidual or  national  measurement  ? 

Our  illustrations  may  be  thought  irreverent  by  those  whose  opinions 
we  impugn ;  and,  therefore,  we  will  ask  them  a  question  of  a  more  intel- 
lectual character.  How  would  they  estimate  the  understanding  of  a 
schoolmaster  who  should  apply  stimulants,  whether  of  severity  and  en- 
couragement, the  same  both  in  kind  and  degree,  to  one  hundred  pupils, 
on  the  ground  that  all  possessed  extremities  formed  by  nature  for  the 
rod,  and  that  all  were  alike  under  the  influence  of  the  fear  of  punish- 
ment and  the  hope  of  reward  ? 

The  fact  is,  that  the  human  mind  is  universal,  as  the  human  face  is 
universal — in  its  generic  form  and  features.  It  may  be  that  minds,  as  well 
as  faces,  had  at  one  time  much  more  affinity  than  at  present :  we  know, 
indeed,  that  the  Tartar,  the  Negro,  and  the  Caucasian  family,  had  one  com- 
mon ancestor.  But,  at  present,  the  mind  of  the  Asiatic  bears  no  nearer 
resemblance  to  that  of  the  European,  than  the  features  of  Lady  Jersey  to 
those  of  the  reigning  Empress  of  Timbuctoo.  Upon  the  face,  climate 
alone,  and,  it  may  be,  the  personal  peculiarities  that  distinguished  the 
founders  of  the  several  races,  have  operated,  yet  we  see  how  marked  the 
distinctive  differences  have  become;  whilst  the  mind,  under  its  full 
share  of  those  causes  of  disagreement,  has  been  subjected  for  centuries 
to  the  influence  of  hereditary  national  habits.  Such  habits  of  opinion 
and  feeling  time  has  woven  into  the  very  texture  of  men's  minds ;  they 
are  imbibed  in  youth,  and,  in  a  vast  majority  of  cases,  accompany  him 
that  has  formed  them  to  the  grave ;  and  as  successive  generations  are 
dovetailed  into  each  other,  many  must  pass  away  before  new  habits  are 
formed  with  regard  to  matters  of  importance.  Not  one  man  in  ten  thou- 
sand steps  so  much  out  of  the  roadway  as  to  get  rid  entirely  of  national 
characteristics ;  and  they  are  very  few  who  ever  doubt  whether  the  in- 
stitutions, manners,  and  customs,  which  they  have  obeyed  and  observed 
all  their  lives,  be  not  the  best  that  human  wisdom  could  possibly  devise. 

But  as  it  is  a  mere  play  upon  words  to  speak  of  the  human  mind  as 
something  different  from  the  opinions  and  feelings  of  men,  it  is  an  idle 
sophism  to  maintain  the  identity  of  universal  mind,  to  back  such  argu- 
ments as  those  which  our  Indian  reformers  make  use  of,  when  it  is  noto- 

to  tell  us,  that  what  is  fundamentally  true  of  human  nature,  under  one  complexion,  is 
equally  so  under  another.  Every  infant  knows  that ;  but  who  is  to  tell  us  what  are  the 
fundamental  principles  of  human  nature,  and  what  arc  factitious  habits?  A  deeper 
philosopher  than  Mr.  Crawfurd,  we  imagine.  He  tells  us  at  page  49,  that  "the  people  of 
the  East  are,  and  have  been  in  all  ages,  more  passive  ami  pusillanimous  than  the  people  of 
the  West.  The  dark-coloured  races  are  more  passive  than  any  of  the  fairer  races  of  men." 
Now,  whether  is  courage  or  pusillanimity  to  be  predicated  as  the  fundamental  constituent 
of  human  nature? 


1830.]  Affairs  of  British  India.  67 

rious  to  all  that  the  mental  habits  and  associations  of  the  different  families 
of  mankind  are  widely,  and,  to  all  appearance,  irreconcilably  discrepant. 
Is  the  human  mind  more  identical  than  the  human  stomach  ?  There  is 
but  one  structure  for  each  j  and  all  minds  crave  after  happiness,  as  all 
stomachs  crave  after  food.  Why  not  act  upon  "  general  principles," 
and,  as  roast  beef  and  plum-pudding  are,  to  our  tastes,  at  least,  viands 
far  preferable  to  rice  and  vegetable  curry,  force  our  national  food,  as  well 
as  our  national  institutions,  upon  the  Hindoos  ?  The  intestines  are  every- 
where the  same :  let  the  Indian  be  dieted  on  bread  and  fat  bacon ;  and 
let  us  victual  our  seamen  on  boiled  pulse,  and  the  putrid  fish  of  which 
our  ultra-Gangetic  subjects  are  so  fond.  It  is  vile  bigotry  to  suppose 
that  the  natives  of  Hindostan  will  not  relish  that  which  is  agreeable  to 
us ;  but  experiment  has  proved,  that  hard  biscuits  are  at  once  more  nu- 
tritious and  more  digestible  than  the  soft  unleavened  cakes  which  the 
poor  wretches,  knowing  no  better,  devour  in  such  enormous  quantities ; 
therefore  we  shall  abuse  the  trust  committed  to  us,  if  we  do  not  constrain 
them  to  change  their  food  incontinently. 

This  is  absurd ;  but  wherein  do  such  sentiments  differ  from  the  opinions 
of  those,  who,  when  we  are  called  upon  to  legislate  for  a  people  at  the 
further  extremity  of  the  globe,  desire  us  to  act  upon  "general  principles," 
and  abstract  reasoning  on  mind  and  government,  in  utter  disregard  to 
the  moral  pulse,  and  the  national  idiosyncrasy  of  our  subjects  ?  "  A 
people,"  did  we  say  ?  There  are  nations  under  our  sway  as  numerous 
and  distinct  in  manners  and  feelings  as  all  the  inhabitants  of  Southern 
Europe  put  together  ;  and  yet  there  are  professors  of  the  art  of  govern- 
ment made  easy  who  talk  of  subverting  every  thing  that  has  been  done, 
running  counter  to  all  their  habits  and  prejudices,  and  introducing  an 
uniform  system  of  entire  novelty,  as  familiarly  as  "  maids  of  fifteen  talk 
of  puppy-dogs."  And  our  warrant  for  all  this  pulling  down  and  build- 
ing up  is  to  be  the  universality  of  the  human  mind  ! 

We  have  saicj  that  this  cant  phrase,  as  applied  by  the  writers  to  whom 
we  refer,  is  a  mere  verbal  clinch.  The  Bedouin  Arab  loves  liberty,  so 
does  the  Englishman  :  do  they  love  the  same  thing  ?  The  Arab's  notion 
of  freedom  is  to  rove  the  desert  without  control,  and  to  rob  by  stealth 
or  open  violence  all  but  his  own  tribe.  An  Englishman,  we  suspect, 
would  give  a  different  account  of  the  object  of  his  attachment.  Again, 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  filial  affection  has  a  place  in  the  breast  of 
the  Hindoo,  as  well  as  in  that  of  the  Englishman.  But  how  do  the  na- 
tives of  each  country  severally  manifest  their  feelings  upon  the  occasion 
of  the  last  great  test  ?  The  Englishman  sends  for  Sir  Henry  Halford, 
or  the  most  skilful  physician  whose  attendance  he  can  command,  to  pre- 
scribe for  his  dying  parent ;  the  Indian  carries  him  down  to  the  bank  of 
the  Ganges,  and  stifles  his  last  gasp  by  filling  his  mouth  and  nose  with 
the  mud  of  that  sacred  river.  Could  a  clearer  illustration  be  given  of  the 
manner  in  which  superstitious  habits  destroy  the  practical  uniformity  of 
human  nature  ?  Yet  superstition  is  only  one  of  the  many  agents  which 
have  been  constantly  employed,  since  the  date  of  the  confusion  of  tongues, 
in  creating  national  individuality.  The  system  of  land-taxation  which 
has  prevailed  from  time  immemorial  in  India,  would,  doubtless,  be  in- 
tolerable to  the  Englishman ;  but  is  it  more  oppressive  and  vexatious 
than  his  own  Excise  laws  ?  Our  philosophers  argue,  in  the  first  instance, 
as  if  the  feelings  of  the  Hindoo  were  the  same  as  our  own,  since  mind  is 
universal ;  and  then  propose  ulterior  measures  because  it  is  desirable  to 

12 


C8  Affairs  of  British  India.  [\JuLY, 

create  that  assimilation.  If  mind  be  universal,  that  is,  (for  we  will  not 
be  juggled  by  a  quibble),  if  our  Indian  fellow- subjects  think  and  feel  as 
we  do,  they  cannot  possibly  require  any  infusion  of  English  colonists 
to  change  their  habits,  and  raise  them  in  the  social  scale.  We  shall 
pause  upon  this  dilemma,  until  we  are  favoured  with  a  definition  which 
shall  prove  "  mind"  to  be  something  distinct  from  habits  of  thought  and 
feeling. 

We  shall  close  this  branch  of  our  subject  with  two  anecdotes  illus- 
trative of  the  manners  and  character  of  the  people  of  North-western 
India.  The  actor  in  the  tragedy  was  a  Rajpoot,  a  Hindoo  of  the 
military  class.  The  hero  of  the  second  story  was  a  Pitan  or  Affghan, 
a  Mahommedan,  a  descendant  of  one  of  the  soldiers  of  fortune,  to  whom 
the  country  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Ganges,  between  Oude  and  Hurdwar, 
was  granted  as  a  fief.  They  are  known  as  Rohillas,  and  their  grant 
was  called,  in  consequence,  Rohilcund.  The  first  anecdote  is  extracted 
from  a  very  able  and  unpresuming  pamphlet  published  last  year  by 
Mr.  Robertson  of  the  Bengal  Civil  Service. 

"  Some  fifteen  years  ago,  a  village  in  the  district  of  Cawnpore  being 
put  up  to  sale  for  an  arrear  of  revenue,  was  bought  in  by  govern- 
ment. The  arrear  amounted  to  about  seven  hundred  rupees.  This 
arrear  the  villagers  raised  among  themselves,  by  a  general  contri- 
bution, and  carrying  to  the  collector,  procured  the  reinsertion  of  their 
managing  partner's  name  in  his  books  as  proprietor.  About  a  year 
after  his  reinstatement,  this  individual  sold  the  whole  property  to  an 
indigo  planter,  who,  although  a  native  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  on  account 
of  his  maternal  connexion,  was  in  every  other  respect  an  English  gentle- 
man. This  transfer  the  villagers  very  naturally  resisted,  and  in  the 
court  of  the  district  obtained  a  decree  invalidating  the  sale.  From  this 
decision  an  appeal  was  made  by  the  indigo  planter  to  the  provincial  court 
of  Bareilly .  While  the  matter  was  pending  in  that  quarter,  a  robbery  oc- 
curred in  the  vicinity  of  the  disputed  village,  on  which,  one  of  the  par- 
ties benefited  by  the  decision  of  the  court  of  the  district,  mounted  his 
horse,  and,  spear  in  hand,  pursued  and  caused  the  apprehension  of  the 
robbers.  Such  unusual  activity  attracted  attention,  and  the  supreme 
criminal  tribunal  at  Calcutta,  in  confirming  the  sentence  passed  by  the 
judge  of  circuit  on  the  gang,  directed  a  handsome  reward  to  be  given  to 
the  person  who  had  caused  their  apprehension.  Before  this  order  reached 
Cawnpore,  the  decision  of  the  civil  court  of  the  district  having  been  re- 
versed in  appeal  by  that  of  the  province,  the  very  individual  who  was  to 
have  received  the  reward,  went,  at  mid-clay,  into  the  house  of  the  man 
who  had  sold  the  property  to  the  indigo  planter,  dragged  him  out  into  the 
street,  cut  his  head  off,  and  then  fled  across  the  Ganges  into  the  territory 
of  the  king  of  Oude." 

Mahommed  Esuf  Khan,  a  desperate  fellow,  who  was  deeply  implicated 
in  the  insurrection  which  took  place  at  Bareilly  in  1816,  and  was,  indeed, 
supposed  to  have  killed  Mr.  Leycester  with  his  own  hand,  fled  to  Oude, 
and  was  taken  into  the  service  of  the  prime  minister  at  Lucknow.  Af- 
ter he  had  remained  in  that  employment  for  some  years,  he  took  deadly 
offence  at  the  elopement  of  a  dancing-girl,  who  was  his  servant,  or  under 
his  protection,  and  her  reception  into  the  family  of  the  vizier,  one  of 
whose  ladies  she  had  probably  found  means  to  conciliate.  Esuf  Khan 
felt  himself  dishonoured  and  wronged,  and  resolved  to  reclaim  the  girl 
at  whatever  personal  hazard.  He  armed  himself  and  a  few  determined 


1830.]  Affairs  of  British  India.  69 

attendants  to  the  teeth,  entered  the  house  of  the  vizier,  whilst  that 
officer  was  at  court,  and  possessed  himself  of  his  two  infant  sons,  whom 
he  took  into  the  garden,  and  threatened  to  put  instantly  to  death  if  his 
terms  were  not  complied  with.  Those  terms  were,  the  restitution  of  the 
girl  who  had  fled  from  him,  a  sum  of  money  equivalent  to  £5000,  and  a 
guarantee  of  personal  safety  from  the  British  resident.  On  no  other  con- 
ditions would  he  spare  the  children's  lives ;  he  set  no  value,  he  said,  on 
his  own  life  when  his  honour  was  implicated,  and  the  approach  of  any 
person  within  a  certain  distance  of  the  spot  where  he  held  the  infants, 
should  be  the  signal  for  their  immediate  destruction.  The  vizier  was 
summoned ;  but  Esuf  Khan  would  not  trust  his  promises,  unless  they 
were  backed  by  the  word  of  the  British  resident.  The  father  was  in 
agony,  for  he  knew  the  character  of  the  man  with  whom  he  had  to  deal ; 
Major  Lockett,  the  resident's  assistant,  was  sent  for,  and  after  a  long  ne- 
gotiation, the  vizier  was  obliged  to  submit  to  all  the  exactions.  The 
money  was  paid  down,  and  the  girl  sent  for.  She  entered  in  a  state 
approaching  to  distraction ;  for  no  one  doubted  that  Esuf  Khan  would 
slay  her  on  the  spot.  He  smiled  when  she  entered,  declared  that  his 
honour  was  satisfied,  threw  her  a  bag  containing  1000  rupees,  (£100,) 
and  told  her  that  she  was  at  liberty  to  go  where  she  chose. 

These  anecdotes  might  be  mated  to  any  extent.  Yet  these  are  the 
people  who  are  to  be  governed  upon  "general  principles/'  either  spun  out 
of  theory,  or  at  the  best,  deduced  from  observations  and  experiments  upon 
the  motives  of  action  which  influence  individuals  or  bodies  of  men,  living 
in  a  state  of  society  so  dissimilar  as  not  to  afford  the  slightest  materials 
for  any  sound  analogical  reasoning  ! 

There  is  yetanother  sophism,  which,  although  flagrant  enough  to  frighten 
a  schoolman,  has  been  frequently  resorted  to,  without  any  apparent  sense 
of  shame,  by  some  of  the  most  eminent  among  the  writers  who  have 
girded  themselves  for  battle,  in  the  public  cause,  against  the  Hydra  of 
Leadenhall  Street.  They  have  found  the  rapid  and  uninterrupted  rise 
of  our  empire  in  the  east,  its  enormous  extent  and  vast  wealth,  its  inter- 
nal peace  and  prosperity,  and  its  security  from  foreign  aggression, 
grievous  lets  and  hindrances  to  the  free  currency  of  the  flippant  charges 
of  incompetence  and  mismanagement  which  they  have  brought  against 
the  Company.  Great  as  was  their  desire  to  vilify  and  blacken  that  body, 
and  to  hold  it  up  to  contempt  as  well  as  execration,  it  was  impossible  to 
conceal  or  deny,  that,  through  the  agency  of  its  servants,  it  had  done 
mighty  deeds ;  and  had  given,  in  the  course  of  a  long  career  of  war, 
uniformly  successful,  and  advantages  acquired  by  conquest  or  negocia- 
tion,  invariably  improved,  the  most  unequivocal  proofs  of  political  wis- 
don.  "  Little  more  than  fifty  years  ago,"  says  a  cotemporary,  "  the  East 
India  Company's  territories  were  comprised  within  a  few  factories  at 
different  points  on  the  Asiatic  coast,  and  the  Indian  subjects  of  the  King 
of  England  might  possibly  equal  in  numbers  the  population  of  Liver- 
pool. Now,  the  East  India  Company  are  lords  of  a  country,  which 
measures  in  extent  of  surface  about  ten  times  the  surface  of  the  British 
Isles,  and  which  contains  a  population  equal  to  not  less  than  six  times 
the  population  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland."  These  territories 
afford  a  revenue  averaging  from  twenty  to  twenty-two  millions  of  pounds 
sterling  per  annum ;  and  their  acquisition  by  an  association  of  merchants 
commenced  at  the  very  period  when  the  government  of  the  crown  was 
suffering  the  magnificent  colonies  of  North  America  to  slip  from  its 


70  Affairs  of  British  India. 

grasp.  Here  was  a  difficulty  that  might  have  daunted  partisans  less 
experienced  in  the  warfare  of  pamphlets  and  magazines ;  but  it  is  the  part 
of  great  minds  to  find  resources  in  every  dilemma.  Great  emergencies  call 
for  bold  measures ;  and  as  the  Company  must  be  represented  as  feeble 
and  impotent  as  all  hazards,  the  notoriety  of  the  facts  left  its  adversaries 
no  alternative  but  to  dispute  the  supposed  agency.  It  is  true,,  they  ad- 
mit, that  British  India  is  the  most  splendid  jewel  that  ever  was  set  in 
the  crown  of  any  prince,  and  that  those  who  annexed  such  an  appendage 
to  our  empire  have  deserved  well  of  their  country.  But  not  a  tittle  of 
this  glory  appertains  to  the  Company.  The  valour  of  Englishmen  has 
won  the  many  hard  fought  fields  of  which  our  territorial  acquisitions 
are  the  fruits  ;  the  same  agents  have  consolidated  and  improved  these 
conquests,  by  the  exercise  of  those  milder  talents  and  virtues,  for  which 
they  are  exclusively  indebted  to  the  moral  and  intellectual  education 
received  in  their  native  land.  So  far  from  affording  them  any  effectual 
assistance  towards  the  amelioration  of  the  state  of  society  in  India,  or 
rendering  its  connection  with  this  country  truly  valuable  to  either,  the 
Company  has  acted  the  part  of  an  incubus  upon  those  energies  which 
have  been  directed  towards  the  attainment  of  these  objects.  All  the  good 
that  has  been  effected  has  been  brought  about  without  their  knowledge 
or  concurrence,  or  even  in  direct  opposition  to  their  orders.  They  have  si- 
lenced the  voice  of  philanthropy  in  their  dominions,  and  even  banished 
those  patriotic  journalists,  who  alone  "  faithful  found,  among  the  faith- 
less, *  *  *  among  innumerable  false,"  have  denounced  their 
vicious  system  of  government,  and  devoted  themselves  to  the  common 
interests  of  England  and  the  whole  native  population  of  India.  What- 
ever advantages  either  country  has  reaped  from  their  mutual  relations 
are  solely  ascribable  to  English  merit ;  whilst  for  every  evil  to  which  that 
connection  has  given  birth,  or  which,  though  pre-existent,  it  has  failed 
to  eradicate,  the  Company  are  exclusively  responsible. 

All  hail,  Genius  of  British  valour  and  wisdom !  for  verily  thou  hast 
wrought  great  things  for  us  !  The  Greeks  made  Gods  of  their  heroes, 
but  we  have  so  far  improved  upon  the  practice,  that  we  have  first  formed 
a  hero  out  of  our  own  abstract  essences,  and  then  proceeded  to  idolize 
ourselves.  We  are  really  at  a  loss  to  determine,  whether  it  be  more 
wonderful  that  men  should  delude  themselves  with  a  fallacy  so  extrava- 
gantly absurd,  or  hold  the  intellects  of  their  fellow-creatures  in  such 
mean  estimation,  as  to  entertain  a  hope  of  foisting  it  upon  the  under- 
standing of  a  single  reasonable  being.  Under  this  novel  system  for  the 
appreciation  of  human  actions,  neither  the  head  that  devises,  nor  the 
hand  that  executes,  seems  entitled  to  any  consideration.  We  have  been 
all  along  in  error.  The  great  general  who  leads  our  armies  to  vic- 
tory, the  statesman  whose  wise  counsels  would  appear,  to  vulgar  eyes  at 
least,  to  have  saved  his  country  from  ruin,  are  alike  unworthy  of  our 
commendation  or  gratitude  :  the  national  genius  has  achieved  both  tri- 
umphs, so  let  us  praise  and  thank  ourselves.  Equal  measure  must  be 
dealt  to  the  philosopher  and  the  poet ;  for  every  individual  owes  as  much 
to  the  advantages  which  his  nativity  has  conferred  upon  him,  as  each  of 
the  many  persons  who  collectively  constitute  the  Company,  and  its  civil 
and  military  services.  But  the  Company  has  enjoyed  great  facilities 
in  the  establishment  of  its  empire,  from  the  nature  and  character  of  the 
nursery  from  which  it  has  been  able  to  draw  its  executive  officers  and  in- 
struments of  government.  So  must  every  Englishman,  or  body  of  En- 


1830.]  Affairs  of  British  India.  71 

glishmen  that  embarks  in  any  enterprise.  So  has  every  British  general 
from  Richard  the  lion-hearted  to  Arthur  the  stoney-jhearted ;  so  have 
our  descendants  in  North  America ;  so  did  our  early  circumnavigators ; 
so  did  Messrs.  Peel  and  Arkwright.  The  proprietors  of  India  stock 
could  hardly  be  expected  to  fight  Tippoo  Saib  or  the  Mahrattas  in  per- 
son ;  to  form  at  the  same  time  component  parts  of  a  general  court,  and 
to  officiate  as  magistrates  at  Meerut  or  Allahabad,  or  as  adjutants  of 
their  two  hundred  regiments  of  Sepoys ;  to  man  their  pilot- vessels  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Ganges,  or  to  serve  out  the  medicines  at  their  dis- 
pensary in  Calcutta.  Yet  unless  it  be  supposed,  that  rulers,  to  deserve 
praise,  are  bound  to  perform  every  function  of  government  for  them- 
selves, without  the  interposition  of  any  agency,  we  can  see  no  plausible 
reason  why  the  glorious  and  beneficial  acts  and  measures  of  their  de- 
pendent and  responsible  servants  should  not  be  carried  to  the  credit  of 
the  Company. 

Where  evil  can  be  predicated,  our  reformers  are  far  too  generous  to 
lay  an  unequal  portion  of  the  burthen  upon  the  shoulders  of  either  party, 
by  contradistinguishing  the  acts  of  the  Company  from  those  of  their  ser- 
vants. On  such  occasions,  the  utmost  care  is  taken  to  couple  them 
closely  together.  "  It  is  the  East  India  Company  and  their  own  ser- 
vants/' says  Mr.  Rickards,  "  armed  as  they  are  with  power  and  instiga- 
ted by  jealousy,  who  have  from  the  earliest  times  to  the  present  hour, 
been  involved  in  quarrel,  disturbance,  and  war,  with  the  natives  of  India ; 
and  who,  to  guard  their  own  privileges,  ascribe  to  others  the  outrages 
and  disorders  of  which  they  themselves 'have  been  most  guilty."*  In 
like  manner,  the  whole  tenor  of  Mr.  Crawfurd's  Essay  upon  the  "  Free 
Trade  and  Colonization  of  India,"  is  coloured  by  the  assumption,  that  the 
Company,  the  local  Government,  and  its  agents,  go  hand  in  hand  in  their 
hostility  "  towards  all  the  private  enterprises  of  British  subjects,"  and 
an  anxious  desire  and  constant  effort  to  repress  and  destroy  every  germ 
or  principle  of  improvement  by  which  the  condition  of  their  subjects 
might  be  bettered.  The  theory,  therefore,  which  these  and  other  name- 
less writers  profess  to  hold,  and  which  the  "  Dii  minorum  gentium," — 
their  Neophytes, — implicitly  believe,  (upon  the  principle  laid  down  in 
our  first  paper  upon  this  subject,  "  quia  non  intelligunt,")  appears  to  be 
this  :  the  Genius  of  Britain  is  the  Ormusd  of  India,  whilst  the  Company 
enacts  the  part  of  Ahriman, — the  great  first  cause  of  evil, — to  baffle  and 
counteract  all  the  good  offices  which  its  disinterested  antagonist  is  earn- 
estly endeavouring  to  perform.  Mr.  Buckingham  is  supposed  to  be  the 
incarnation  of  Ormusd. 

Such  are  the  fallacies  of  which  the  adversaries  of  the  Company  have 
made  the  most  liberal  use ;  and  those  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  analyse 
their  writings,  will  not  fail  to  detect  them  lurking  in  every  argument,  and 
colouring  every  statement, 

"  Taking  all  shapes,  and  bearing  many  names." 

Examples  may  be  found,  "as  plenty  as  blackberries,"  in  the  pages  of  the 
Oriental  Herald  ;  and  those  Franklins  of  literature,  who  may  be  bold  and 
resolute  enough  to  force  their  weary  way  through  Mr.  Rickards'  volumi- 
nous Essays,  will  stumble  upon  them  at  every  step.  Whenever  Mr.  Craw- 
furd  so  far  forgets  the  dictates  of  prudence  as  to  turn  from  the  details  of 
commerce,  which  he  does  understand,  to  treat  upon  the  government  of 

*  Page  81. 


72  Affairs  of  British  India.  [JULY, 

continental  India,  and  the  condition  of  its  inhabitants,  subjects  with  which 
it  is  impossible  that  he  should  be  acquainted,  dire  necessity  compels  him 
to  pick  up  and  make  use  of  the  sophistical  weapons  of  his  allies.  The 
armoury  of  the  brotherhood  contains  no  better,  but  a  man  of  real  talent 
should  scorn  to  use  such  rotten  staves ;  for  though  they  appear  the  very 
spears  of  Goliah  to  Messrs.  Buckingham  and  Rickards,  Mr.  Crawfurd  is 
far  too  clear  sighted  not  to  be  aware  of  their  utter  insufficiency.  We 
thought  at  one  time  that  it  would  not  be  an  inappropriate  punishment, 
if  he  were  condemned  to  swallow  all  Mr.  Rickards'  paradoxes ;  but,  on 
second  thoughts,  we  were  alarmed  at  the  severity  of  a  discipline,  which 
nothing  short  of  a  moral  ostrich  could  undergo  with  impunity.  So  we 
leave  him  to  the  conscious  pride  which  he  cannot  but  feel  from  the  situ- 
ation which  the  Edinburgh  Review  assigns  him,  as  first  member  of  the 
glorious  confraternity,  the  brilliant  triad,  of  which  Messrs.  Rickards  and 
Buckingham  form  the  other  limbs.*  Assuredly,  there  is  a  magic  in  great 
names ;  .an  honour  in  being  associated  with  them  ! 

Besides  the  engines  of  offence  which  we  have  described,  the  philan- 
thropise reformers  of  the  administration  of  British  India  have  not  con- 
temned the  employment  of  humbler  and  more  direct  means  of  misre- 
presentation and  slander.  We  say  "  humbler,"  because  whilst  it  requires 
some  portion  of  ingenuity  to  invent  a  paradox,  or  to  bolster  up  a  sophism 
into  plausibility,  the  mere  hardy  assertion  of  "  that  which  is  not,"  de- 
mands nothing  more  than  a  moderate  stock  of  assurance.  In  this  respect 
no  deficiency  is  observable.  Our  library,  unhappily,  is  not  graced  with 
any  numbers  of  the  Oriental  Herald,  bound  in  half  Russia,  and  gilt  and 
lettered,  as  would  well  beseem  their  worth  ;  nor  does  our  memory  retain 
the  statements  of  that  periodical, — now,  alas  !  but  semianimate, — very 
deeply  engraven  on  its  tablets.  We  can  recall,  however,  two  of  its  vera- 
cious charges,  the  first  of  which  possesses  the  peculiar  merit  of  involving 
an  impossibility.  The  public  will  be  shocked  to  hear,  from  authority  so 
unquestionable,  that  the  Government  of  British  India  arrogates  to  itself 
nine-tenths  of  the  gross  produce  of  the  soil.  The  second  lamentable  fact 
is,  that  the  judges  and  magistrates  appointed  by  the  Company  do  not 
understand  the  languages  in  which  they  administer  the  laws.  We  are 
happy  in  being  able  to  dry  the  tears  of  sensibility,  by  informing  our  rea- 
ders, that  Lord  Cornwallis'  Settlement  professed,  in  theory,  to  secure  to 
the  State  nine-tenths  of  the  Zemindar's,  or  middle-man  s,  collections  from  the 
cultivators  ;  but  that,  in  practice,  those  persons,  throughout  the  provinces 
to  which  that  measure  extended,  enjoy  net  incomes  fully  equal,  on  the 
average,  to  the  sums  which  they  pay,  from  the  gross  assets  of  their  several 
estates,  into  the  coffers  of  Government.  With  regard  to  the  other  alle- 
gation, we  can  only  say  that  we  should  be  sorry  to  lower  ourselves  by 
giving  it  its  real  name. 

We  have  only  room  to  take  very  brief  notice  of  Mr.  Rickards'  exploits 
in  this  line,  but  we  shall  enjoy  ample  opportunities  of  recurring  to  them, 
from  time  to  time,  for  his  refreshment.  The  following  are  some  of  the 
broader  and  more  condensed  misstatements.  (c  A  monopoly  of  a  prime 
necessary  of  life  to  the  poor,  (salt,)  is  established  in  a  pestilential  climate, 
carried  on  by  forced  labour."!  "The  ryots  are,  down  to  the  present 
hour,  as  much  harassed,  oppressed  and  drained  as  ever."!  The  police 
officers  "  appear  to  have  been  vested  with  powers  equal  to  those  of  a  jus- 

*  No.  CI.  Note  to  page  285.         f  Vo1-  I-  P-  647-  £  v^l.  II.  p.  214. 


1830.]  Affairs  of  British  India.  jg 

tice  of  peace  in  England."*  "  Perfas  aut  nefas,  the  revenue  is  accord- 
ingly collected  ;  and  when  defaulters  cannot  pay,  it  is  taken  from  those 
who  can."t  These  are  but  specimens :  Mr.  Rickards'  Essays  teem  with 
passages  conceived  and  published  in  the  same  spirit ;  charges  to  which, 
as  we  have  said,  nothing  but  respect  for  our  own  character  prevents  us 
from  replying  in  the  most  indignant  and  contemptuous  terms  which  our 
language  affords. 

It  is  a  most  melancholy  spectacle  for  those  who  really  'wish  well  to 
their  kind,  whatever  their  nativity  or  colour,  to  contemplate  the  mischief 
which  mere  partisans  or  wrong-headed  enthusiasts  have  done  to  the  best 
and  holiest  principles  and  interests  which  tongue  or  pen  ever  advocated* 
Paley  says,  and  most  truly,  of  pious  frauds,  that  "  Christianity  has 
suffered  more  injury  from  this  cause  than  from  all  other  causes  put  to- 
gether." It  is  quite  as  certain  that  the  march  of  improvement  and  the 
triumph  of  truth,  in  secular  matters,  have  been  more  retarded  by  the  ill- 
judged  exertions  of  those  who  have  professed  themselves  the  most  zealous 
philanthropists,  by  their  intemperate  language,  their  reckless  employ- 
ment of  sophistry  and  misrepresentation,  their  hyperbolical  descriptions 
of  grievances  and  abuses,  and  their  equally  absurd  anticipations  of 
benefits  and  blessings,  than  by  any  direct  opposition  which  interest  or 
prejudice  has  arrayed  against  them.  At  least  half  of  the  professed  "  friends 
of  humanity"  have  been  fighting  against  the  cause  which  they  have  pre- 
tended to  buckler.  They  have  done  their  utmost  to  render  the  most 
sacred  principles  ludicrous  or  contemptible,  by  the  free  and  flippant  use 
of  the  most  unworthy  auxiliaries.  They  have  disgusted  and  alienated 
those  who  would  go  any  lengths,  in  a  direct  and  manly  course,  for  the 
attainment  of  the  objects  which  they  profess  to  make  their  goal ;  but 
who  cannot  condescend  to  contaminate  themselves  by  throwing  filth  at 
their  opponents,  by  exaggerating  or  misstating  facts,  or  by  making 
common  cause  witl\  those  who  resort  to  such  measures.  Thus  the  wise 
and  good  draw  baclf  from  the  front  of  the  battle,  where  their  very  presence 
would,  like  the  bugle-blast  of  Roderick  Dhu,  "  be  worth  a  thousand 
men,"  and  leave  the  conduct  of  the  controversy  in  sickness  of  heart  and 
contempt,  to  three  or  four  Thersiteses,  with  whom  no  temptation  could 
prevail  on  them  "  to  march  through  Coventry."  Under  such  circum- 
stances, it  is  not  wonderful  that  little  or  nothing  of  good  should  be 
effected.  The  public  hear  a  loud  clatter  of  abuse  and  vehement  asser- 
tions, and  see  a  great  dust  which  the  worthies  in  question  have  stirred 
up  with  their  own  feet,  and  mistake  for  the  result  of  their  efforts  against 
their  adversaries,  but  in  the  mean  time  they  advance  not  a  jot.  The 
detection  and  exposure  of  one  of  their  fallacies  or  misrepresentations  gives 
more  strength  to  their  opponents  than  all  their  puny  hostility  can  coun- 
tervail; and  half,  at  least,  of  the  ridicule  which  they  have  so  justly 
merited,  unhappily  attaches  itself  to  the  cause  which  nothing  but  their 
advocacy  could  have  contrived  to  defeat. 

With  the  exception  of  Wilkes,  no  person,  we  believe,  at  all  answering 
to  our  description,  has  ever  conferred  even  an  accidental  benefit  upon 
society,  and  verily  his  fame  is  now  not  the  most  eminent  or  enviable. 

We  leave  the  Indian  reformers  to  take  their  station  by  his  side,  and 
shall  close  our  article  with  a  choice  moral  selected  from  a  speech  delivered 
at  the  Crown  and  Anchor  at  a  late  meeting  convened  to  give  the  finishing 

*  Ibid.  p.  210.  f  P.  138.  referring  to  Zemindary  form  of  settlement. 

M.  M.  New  Scries.— VOL.  X.  No.  55.  K 


74  British  India,  fyc.  £JuLY, 

stroke  to  the  political  existence  of  the  East  India  Company.  Hear,  and 
perpend ! 

f*  In  India,  British  subjects  were  oppressed  beyond  belief.  They  are, 
by  a  proclamation,  prohibited  from  going  ten  miles  beyond  Calcutta 
without  permission.  One  of  the  Company's  servants,  by  interest,  could 
an  order,  and  transport  an  unfortunate  man  without  further  process. 
To  slave  trade  was  equal  in  hardship  to  the  sufferings  of  this  oppressed 
people.  Children,  born  British  subjects,  of  native  mothers,  were  out- 
casts. They  could  not  acquire  property  in  travel  (?)  or  trade"  !* 

The  orator  who  was  delivered  of  this  surprising  nonsense  was  the 
great  Daniel  O'Connell. 

"  Antoni  gladios  potuit  contemnere,  si  sic, 
Orania  dixisset" 

Which  may  be  interpreted  that  Daniel  would  have  been  quite  safe  from 
the  knotted  lash  of  Mr.  Doherty  if  he  had  always  confined  himself  to 
balderdash  so  excessively  absurd,  and  statements  which  Ferdinand 
Mendez  Pinto  himself  would  blush  to  father. 


VOICE    OF    THE    COUNTRY ABOLITION    OF    SLAVERY. 

IN  the  circulars  addressed  to  the  colonial  governors  in  1828  by  Secre- 
tary Sir  George  Murray,  and  in  various  despatches  issued  by  his  prede- 
cessors in  office,  it  seems  to  have  been  considered  necessary,  or  to  have 
become  customary,  to  urge  the  adoption  of  measures  recommended 
for  ameliorating  the  condition  of  the  labouring  population  in  the  West 
Indies  by  constant  allusions  to  the  voice  of  the  people  of  this  country. 

In  whatever  degree  the  colony  addressed  was  or  was  not  assumed  to 
have  incurred  official  censure,  the  "impatience  of  the  people  of  this  coun- 
try" was  mentioned  to  each  of  them  in  the  same  threatening  manner  by 
the  new  colonial  secretary  ;  and  the  instant  adoption  of  measures,  evi- 
dently emanating  from  persons  inimical  to  the  welfare  of  the  Colonists, 
or  conceived  in  ignorance  of  the  actual  state  of  the  labouring  population 
in  those  possessions,  was  stated  to  have  become  absolutely  necessary  in 
consequence  of  the  state  of  "  public  opinion  in  the  mother  country/' 

We  certainly  think  there  is  something  ludicrous  in  this  manner  of 
treating  the  colonists  ;  and  that  to  approach  them  with  injurious  mea- 
sures in  one  hand,  and  an  apologetical  threat  regarding  the  necessity  of 
enforcing  them  in  the  other,  is  not  the  manner  in  which  a  question  of 
this  important  nature  would  have  been  put  forth  by  a  wise  and  decisive 
government ! — We  further  presume  to  think  that  a  very  little  previous 
examination  and  reflection  would  have  shown  to  the  colonial  secretary 
that  what  was  then  successfully  foisted  upon  him  as  u  public  opinion" 
was  not  the  voice  of  the  community  at  large,  nor  of  the  intelligent  part 
of  that  community,  but  the  mere  clamour  of  a  party  principally  composed 
of  ignorant  and  fanatical  sectarians,  sustained  by  the  most  unworthy  arti- 
fices of  their  vain-glorious  or  self-interested  leaders,  who  by  the  most 
artful  misrepresentations  did  then,  and  do  still,  continue  to  keep  in  their 
train  not  only  many  persons  who  are  too  idolent  to  examine  both  sides 
of  an  intricate  question,  but  also  others  who  from  the  strength  of  an  igno- 

*  We  have  copied  the  newspaper  report  verbatim. 


1830.]  Voice  of  the  Counlry-^Abolition  of  Slavery.  75 

rant  zeal  are  still  less  capable  of  forming  an  impartial  judgment,,  al- 
though better  qualified  to  support  thereby  any  proposal  which  their  plau- 
sible leaders  may  be  pleased  to  dictate. 

To  enumerate  even  a  tenth  part  of  the  mean  stratagems,  worthless 
manoeuvres,  and  mendacious  statements,  which  have  from  time  to  time 
been  put  in  practise  by  the  demagogues  alluded  to,  for  the  purposes  of  at- 
tracting popular  applause,  and  inducing  a  belief  in  the  justice  of  their 
pretensions  to  extraordinary  disinterestedness  and  exclusive  philanthropy, 
would  lead  us  much  beyond  the  limits  which  we  can,  prudently,  afford 
to  any  article  however  important ;  but  as  our  attention  has  been  called  to 
this  subject  by  recent  meetings  of  anti-colonial  societies,  and  by  publica- 
tions emanating  from  that  party,  we  think  it  prudent  to  adduce  a  few 
facts  to  show  the  manner  in  which  the  vulgar  clamour  held  forth  as  be- 
ing "  the  voice  of  the  country"  has  been  raised,  and  is  sought  to  be  per- 
petuated. And  before  concluding  we  shall  endeavour  to  give  a  short 
sketch  of  some  of  the  consequences  which  up  to  the  present  time  have 
resulted  from  the  exertions  of  Mr.  Wilberforce  and  his  coadjutors  "  in 
the  cause  of  humanity,"  leaving  our  readers  to  anticipate  the  afflicting 
results  which  would  likely  ensue  were  the  Government  and  the  colonists 
weak  enough  to  give  way  to  their  designs. 

We  may  here  briefly  notice  how  completely  the  predictions  of  Lord 
Castlereagh  and  other  statesmen  who,  in  1806,  recommended  the  gradual 
abolition  of  the  slave-trade,  have  been  verified.  It  was  at  that  time  urged 
in  favour  of  "  gradual  abolition,"  that  unless  we  first  obtained  the  con- 
currence of  other  nations,  they  and  their  colonies  would  continue  the 
trade  to  a  much  greater  extent,  and  in  a  more  inhuman  manner,  than  at 
that  period  ;  and,  accordingly,  we  find  that  notwithstanding  all  our  nego- 
tiations, the  gross  misapplication  of  seven  millions  of  public  money, 
and  the  loss  of  thousands  of  lives,  it  has  been,  and  is  still,  carried  on  to 
a  greater  extent  than  at  any  former  time,  and  with  a  cruelty  proportioned 
to  the  necessity  of  concealment — all  this  may  be  attributed  to  the  in- 
temperate zeal  of  Mr.  Wilberforce  and  his  coadjutors,  who  took  upon 
themselves  positively  to  assert  that  "  no  such  thing  could  take  place !" 
Others  who>  were  more  under  the  influence  of  reason  and  common  sense, 
in  vain  foretold  that  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade,  by  Great  Britain 
alone,  would  not  put  an  end  to  it,  nor  promote  the  cause  of  humanity  in 
Africa ;  but  their  local  and  general  knowledge  of  the  subject  was  de- 
spised or  overborne  by  the  headlong  ardour  of  their  antagonists.  We 
now  find,  that,  contrary  to  the  opinions  then  confidently  asserted  by  the 
present  Lord  Lansdowne  and  others  of  the  anti-colonial  party,  recent 
accounts  from  Badagry  and  other  parts  of  the  African  coast  state  that 
the  most  savage  and  sanguinary  barbarism  is  still  prevalent  to,  if  possi  - 
ble,  a  greater  extent  than  at  any  former  period3  and  that  blood  continues 
to  be  spilt  like  water  ;* — but  we  cannot  perceive  that  the  philanthropic 
William  Wilberforce,  the  friend  of  Africa  and  Africans,  or  any  of  those 
persons  who,  under  pretence  of  advocating  the  cause  of  humanity,  have 
made  the  slave- question  the  means  of  their  own  worldly  advancement, 
make  the  slightest  movement  in  mitigation  of  these  horrors,  although 
they  are  active  enough  in  their  endeavours  to  promote  measures  which, 
if  adopted,  would  reduce  the  slaves  in  the  West  Indies  to  a  state  of  simi- 
lar anarchy  !  It  was  also,  at  the  period  alluded  to,  urged  that  the  fur- 

*    Vide  Lander's  Travels,  &c. 

K  2 


76  Voice  of  the  Country — Abolition  of  Slavery.  £Ju'LY, 

ther  introduction  of  Africans  was  not  necessary  for  keeping  up  the  popu- 
lation of  the  colonies;  but  the  great  inequality  of  the  sexes  seems  to  have 
been  studiously  kept  out  of  view  by  the  abolitionists,  and  the  subsequent 
diminution  of  numbers  which  has,  in  consequence,  taken  place,  has  been 
very  adroitly  turned  against  the  planters  as  a  proof  of  their  inhumanity, 
although  their  antagonists  are  well  aware  that  any  decrease  has  been 
owing  to  the  unavoidable  decrement  of  human  life  in  such  an  unequal 
state  of  the  population,  and  that  this  apparent  falling  off  has  been  in- 
creased by  manumissions — a  circumstance  which  the  anti -colonial  party 
carefully  exclude  from  their  comparative  calculations. 

The  late  Joseph  Marryat,  Esq.,  M.  P.,  has  given  us  many  instances  of 
the  palpable  falsehoods,  gross  impositions,  and  suppressions  of  the  truth, 
which  distinguish  the  proceedings  of  the  abolitionists ;  and  before  saying 
any  thing  respecting  the  late  anti-slavery  meetings,  we  shall  extract  from 
one  of  his  pamphlets,  published  in  1816,  the  following  account  of  one  of 
those  exhibitions,  got  up  by  Mr.  Wilberforce,  Mr.  Stephen,  and  their 
compeers,  for  the  purpose  of  influencing  "  the  voice  of  the  people." 

It  having  been  announced  by  advertisement  that  the  members  and 
friends  of  the  African  and  Asiatic  Society  would  dine  together  at  the 
Freemasons'  Tavern,  on  the  day  the  Report  of  the  African  Institution 
was  read,  and  that  a  number  of  Africans  and  Asiatics  were  expected 
to  dine  in  an  adjoining  room,  Mr.  Wilberforce  took  the  chair.  After 
Dinner  the  company  drank  the  usual  toasts  ;  the  King,  the  Prince  Re- 
gent, the  Queen,  and  the  rest  of  the  Royal  Family  (but  without  rising 
from  their  seats). 

"  Mr.  Stephen  then  arose  and  apologized  for  addressing  the  meeting, 
which  he  was  induced  to  do  as  being  more  accustomed  to  speak  in  pub- 
lic than  Mr.  Prince  Saunders,  a  man  of  colour,  who  had  just  returned 
from  a  mission  to  St.  Domingo,  and  whose  communications  from  thence 
he  would  lay  before  them."  "  Mr.  Stephen  addressed  himself  in  a  great 
degree  to  the  Africans  and  Asiatics,  who  had  only  been  separated  from 
(he  company  by  a  screen  drawn  across  one  end  of  the  room,  from  behind 
which  they  had  by  this  time  emerged,  and  were  standing  round  the 
tables.  He  dwelt  upon  the  infamy  of  supposing,  that  the  difference  of 
colour  in  the  skin  could  occasion  any  inferiority  in  the  mind.  From  a 
warm  eulogy  upon  blacks  as  contrasted  with  whites,  he  slid  into  a  pane- 
gyric upon  Christophe,  whom  he  described  as  an  ornament  to  the  African 
name,  and  an  honour  to  the  human  race — as  the  friend  of  the  immortal 
Toussaint — the  patriot,  liberator,  and  exalter  of  his  fellow-creatures — 
liberal,  enlightened,  beneficent,  merciful — and,  above  all,  A  SINCERE  AND 

PIOUS  CHRISTIAN  !  ! 

"  Mr.  Saunders  corroborated  every  assertion  of  this  harangue  by  bow- 
ing assent  from  time  to  time.  Mr.  Stephen  distinctly  asserted  that  King 
Henry  of  Hayti,  the  name  by  which  he  always  spoke  of  this  person,  was 
one  of  the  most  august  sovereigns  in  the  universe ;  the  glorious  founder 
of  a  new  dynasty,  which  he  predicted  would,  in  no  distant  time,  subvert 
the  relations  of  the  western  world  as  at  present  constituted,  and  give 
Africa  its  natural  rank,  if  not  superiority,  in  the  scale  of  mankind! !" 

The  health  of  this  blood-thirsty  negro  was  then  drank  with  three  times 
three  and  enthusiastic  acclamations,  the  whole  company  standing! 

"  Mr.  Prince  Saunders  confirmed  the  details  of  Mr.  Stephen.  He  re» 
peated  the  earnestness  with  which  Christophe  longed  for  religious  in- 
structjpn,  and  his  disdain  for  the  trappings  of  state.  He  particularly 


3830.]  Voice  of  the  Country — Abolition  of  Slavery.  77 

dwelt  on  the  assurances  he  had  given  his  majesty,  his  court,,  and  his 
people,,  of  the  sure  alliance  and  aid  they  might  expect  from  Mr.Wilber- 
force  and  his  associates  in  this  country  !* 

"  The  secretary  of  the  society  next  congratulated  the  company  on  the 
display  of  African  talent  which  they  had  just  heard ;  and  said  he  would 
favour  them  with  another  specimen  of  its  superiority,  by  calling  on  Mr. 
Paul  for  a  speech." 

This  Mr.  Paul  repeated  a  composition,  something  between  a  speech 
and  a  sermon :  but  by  this  time  the  party-coloured  children  had  made 
their  way  to  the  table,  and  were  delivering  their  sentiments  so  loudly 
on  the  relative  merits  of  the  nuts,  figs,  and  oranges  of  the  desert,  as  to 
give  no  small  interruption  to  Mr.  Paul,  and  render  much  of  his  narra- 
tion inaudible.  It  appeared,  however,  to  consist  principally  of  a  mix- 
ture of  religious  instruction,  more  connected  with  the  mysteries  of  the 
Christian  faith  than  with  moral  advice,  and  of  fulsome  compliments  upon 
Mr.  Wilberforce,  interlarded  with  texts  of  scripture.  He  congratulated 
himself  " on  the  happiness  he  never  expected  to  enjoy,  of  seeing  face  to  face 
the  saviour  and  benefactor  of  the  blacks,  the  friend  of  the  whole  human 
race," — by  which  we  presume  the  orator  meant  not  merely  the  negroes 
in  the  West  Indies,  but  also  those  in  the  foreign  colonies,  in  the  United 
States  of  America,  in  St.  Domingo,  and  in  Africa,  for  whose  benefit  he 
and  his  associates  are  doing — what  ?  strenuously  exerting  themselves  ? 
No!  neither  they  nor  the  other  philanthropists  of  the  present  day  in- 
clude these  unhappy  beings,  nor  the  numerous  uninstructed  and  starving 
poor  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  in  the  narrow  pale  of  their  humanity. 

Mr.Wilberforce,  who  sat  "  attentive  to  his  own  applause,  declared  when 
another  of  the  company  wished  to  address  the  chair,  that  he  was  glad 
to  find  it  was  one  of  his  own  countrymen ;  for  after  the  admirable  spe- 
cimens of  eloquence  they  had  just  heard  from  their  brethren  of  colour, 
he  began  to  be  apprehensive  they  had  monopolized  all  the  talents,  and 
that  he  should  feel  ashamed  of  his  own  complexion.  Mr.  Stephen  de- 
termined to  take  the  lead  in  this  gratuitous  contest  of  humility,  intimated 
that  he  actually  felt  (the  hypocrite  !)  that  shame  which  Mr.  Wilberforce 
only  began  to  apprehend. 

ft  Dr.  Stoddart  prefaced  the  health  of  Mr.Wilberforce  by  an  eulogium 
upon  that  gentleman;  according  to  which  Mr.  Wilberforce  was  the 
greatest  living  being  in  this  hemisphere,  as  King  Henry  of  Hayti  was  in 
the  other  !  The  world  was  full  of  their  fame ;  and  nothing  but  the  uni- 
versal conflagration,  which  is  to  devour  the  universe,  would  prevent  its 
continuing  to  resound  with  their  praises  ! !" 

Mr.  Wilberforce  then  praised  Mr.  Stephen,  Mr.  Stephen  praised  Dr. 
Stoddart,  Dr.  Stoddart  returned  the  compliment  with  interest,  and  trans- 
lated an  address,  composed  by  a  French  gentleman  present — who,  like 
King  Henry,  had  not,  we  suppose,  studied  English — in  praise  of  Mr. 
Wilberforce.  But  enough  of  this  nauseous  humbug ! 

We  shall  only  add,  that  in  the  early  part  of  the  entertainment  a  black 
man  led  in  a  white  woman,  with  a  party-coloured  child,  the  fruit  of  their 

*  Mr.  Mackenzie  in  his  "  Notes  on  Haiti,"  gives  among  other  documents  a  fac-simile  of 
a  letter  addressed  by  this  enlightened  monarch,  as  king,  to  "  Baron  de  Dupuy,  Secretaire, 
&c.  de  S.  M.,"  in  which  there  is  the  following  amusing  specimen  of  his  progress  in  English 
composition  and  orthography  : — "  You  no  me,  and  of  sufficient  and  of  to  no  I  alway  keeping, 
good  what,  and  no  you  too  fare  men  alway  keeping  good  what."  The  signature,  is  fully  as 
unintelligible  as  that  of  some  members  of  parliament  J 


78  Voice  of  the  Country — Abolition  of  Slavery. 

mutual  loves.  This  interesting  group  paraded  round  the  room,  as  a 
proof  of  the  happy  result  of  that  union  of  colours  and  races,  which  all 
true  philanthropists  are  so  anxious  to  promote. 

When  the  Africans  and  Asiatics  introduced  themselves  from  behind 
the  screen,  which  at  first  separated  them  from  the  company,  a  medley 
of  blacks  and  mulattoes  appeared,  MANY  OP  THEM  MENDICANTS,  whose 
faces  were  recognised,  as  constantly  plying  at  their  respective  stands  in 
the  public  streets;  and  in  the  true  spirit  of  equality  and  fraternity,  wine 
was  handed  about  to  them  to  drink  with  their  benefactors.*  We  appeal 
to  our  readers  whether  any  thing  can  be  more  disgusting  to  every  sincere 
friend  of  humanity  than  such  trumpery  exhibitions  as  these ;  yet,  by 
such  pharisaical  proceedings,  it  has  been,  and  it  is  still — attempted  to  in- 
fluence "  the  voice  of  the  country." 

Had  such  exhibitions  been  discontinued,  we  might  not  at  present  have 
found  it  necessary  to  bring  the  name  of  Mr.  Wilberforce  again  before  the 
public ;  but  when  we  perceive  that  the  actions  of  societies  calling  them- 
selves "  for  the  abolition  of  Slavery"  are  still  marked  by  the  most  acri- 
monious hatred  against  the  colonists ; — that  they  persist  in  forcing  upon 
the  attention  of  the  public — measures  which,  if  carried  into  execution, 
would  ruin  our  colonies,  and  every  one  of  our  countrymen  connected 
with  them;  and  which  would  counteract  all  that  has  already  been 
done,  or  is  now  doing,  for  the  improvement  of  our  colonial  labourers ; — 
that  these  labourers,  who  are  gradually  acquiring  feelings,  habits,  and 
property,  to  enable  them  to  fulfil  hereafter  the  duties  of  industrious 
freemen,  would,  by  the  accomplishment  of  such  plans  be,  as  in  Haiti 
and  Mexico,  thrown  back  into  a  state  of  barbarism ; — and  that  since 
Mr.  Wilberforce  has  again  allowed  himself,  in  his  feeble  old  age,  to  be 
dragged  from  his  easy  chair  to  preside  at  a  public  meeting,  called  in 
support  of  the  pernicious  views  of  the  anti-colonists,  he  and  his  injudici- 
ous advisers  must  not  expect  their  proceedings  to  pass  without  scrutiny 
and  exposure. 

The  malignant  spirit  by  which  the  anti- colonists  are  evidently  actu- 
ated, is  too  clearly  evinced  in  their  public  writings,  to  require  any  ela- 
borate exposition  on  our  part.  When  we  see  it  asserted  in  pamphlets, 
published  and  given  away  by  the  hundred,  under  their  express  sanction, 
that  the  colonists  are  ' '  daily  and  hourly  proceeding  in  a  series  of  crimes, 
any  one  of  which,  if  perpetrated  in  this  country,  would  call  for  the  gib- 
bet and  the  executioner  to  do  their  duty  on  the  felons  and  murderers," 
when  we  see  the  mild  system  of  religious  instruction  and  improvement 
now  going  forward  in  the  West  Indies,  under  the  safe  superintendence 
and  guidance  of  our  established  church,  stigmatised  as  "  a  bloody  and 
atrocious  system,"  "  a  mass  of  abomination ;"  and  when  we  see  it  asserted 
that  "  the  many  excellent  men  who  compose  the  governors  of  the  Chris- 
tian societies  for  converting  the  negro  slaves,  and  for  propagating  the 
gospel  in  foreign  parts,"  are  "  ranged  on  the  side  of  falsehood,  impos- 
ture, irreligion,  and  impiety" — what  opinion  can  we  form  of  the  inten- 
tions and  designs  of  the  anti-colonial  society  ?  When  we  further  see 
lauded  to  the  skies  such  incendious  writings  as  the  following,  viz. : — 
"Have  we  forgotten  how  long  a  few  Maroons  defended  the  central  moun- 
tains of  the  island  (Jamaica)  against  all  the  effort  of  disciplined  valour  ?" 
— that  "  a  similar  contest,  on  a  larger  scale,  might  be  protracted  for 

*  More  Thoughts,  &c.  by  Jos.  Marryat,  csq.  M.P Printed  for  Ridgway. 


1830.]  Voice  of  the  Country— Abolition  of  Slavery.  79 

half  a  century ;  "—-that  "  not  a  soldier  or  officer  is  sent  to  the  colonies  who 
does  not  know,  that  the  only  way  of  reconciling  his  service  with  the 
duty  of  an  honest  man,  or  the  honour  of  a  gentleman,  is  by  considering 
himself  as  the  guardian  of  the  great  acts  of  justice  which  must  speedily 
take  place,"  and  that  "  in  any  other  light  he  might  as  well  be  invited 
to  patrole  Hounslow,  in  aid  of  the  knights  of  the  road,  or  form  a 
cordon  round  the  houses  of  the  Marrs,  and  the  Williamsons,  while  the 
man  with  a  hammer  did  his  office  inside !"  When  we  further  see  it 
asserted,  under  the  sanction  of  the  same  society,  that  "  when  West-Indian 
magistrates  apply  the  term  "  wretch"  to  a  negro,  who  is  put  to  death  for 
having  failed  in  an  attempt  at  resistance,  the  people  of  England  do  not 
consider  him  as  a  "  wretch,"  but  as  a  good  and  gallant  man,  dying  in  the 
best  of  causes,  and  would  "  stand  by  and  cheer  on  their  dusky  brethren  to 
the  assault !"  When  we  further  see  the  promulgation  of  such  sentiments 
applauded,  and  are  told  by  the  humane  "-Society  for  the  mitigation  and 
gradual  abolition  of  Slavery,"  that  they  envy  "  the  ^writer's  power  of 
producing  on  the  public  mind  the  effects  which  the  popular  talents  where- 
with the  great  Author  of  these  talents  has  endowed  him,  enables  him  to 
produce,  were  it  not  that  we  should  almost  shrink  from  the  heavy  respon- 
sibility both  to  God  and  man,  which  they  impose  upon  their  possessor 
— how  is  it  possible  to  form  any  favourable  opinion  of  their  intentions  ?" 

Heavy,  indeed,  might  be  the  responsibility  incurred  by  the  publishers 
of  such  sentiments,  were  it  not  that  the  only  effect  produced  by  them  is  a 
feeling  of  pity  and  contempt.  Well  may  every  honest  man  shrink  from 
communion  with  any  society  capable  of  avowing  and  putting  forth 
such  infamous  opinions  ;  and  it  raises  "  our  special  wonder"  to  see  that 
many  honourable  and  well-meaning  persons  still  allow  their  names  to 
remain  on  the  lists  of  this  society.  One  good  purpose,  however,  these 
declarations  do  serve,  namely,  to  put  our  countrymen  in  the  western 
world  firmly  and  decisively  on  their  guard  against  the  machinations  of 
insidious  emissaries ;  for,  although,  as  we  shall  shortly  have  occasion  t» 
notice,  the  colonists  are  partly  prepared  against  the  artful  proceedings  of 
the  sectarian  preachers,  and  have,  in  some  measure,  been  able  to  check 
their  dangerous  designs  and  shameful  rapacity,  to  the  repulsion  of  which 
may  be  attributed,  in  a  great  measure,  the  late  virulent  proceedings  and 
petitions  "  from  some  places  in  Yorkshire,"  "  from  congregations  of  dis- 
senters," &c. ;  yet  it  is  well  for  them  to  know  the  length  to  which  the 
society  at  home,  and,  of  course,  their  missionaries  in  the  colonies,  are, 
under  the  cloak  of  religious  philanthropy,  avowedly  ready  to  go ;  and 
that,  in  the  words  of  Mr.  Canning,  ' '  instead  of  diffusing  gradually  over 
those  dark  regions  a  pure  and  salutary  light,"  these  persons  are  more 
likely  to  "  kindle  a  flame  only  to  be  quenched  in  blood  !"* 

It  is  very  well  known  to  have  been  entirely  on  account  of  the  pre- 
cautionary clauses  introduced  into  the  wise  and  humane  slave  act  passed 
by  the  Assembly  of  Jamaica  in  J826,  for  restraining  the  practices  of  the 
missionaries,  that  that  bill  was  rejected  at  home.  One  of  the  most 
offensive  of  these  clauses  commences  thus :- — "  And  whereas,  under 
pretence  of  offerings  and  contributions,  large  sums  of  money  and  other 
chattels  have  been  extorted  by  designing  men,  professing  to  be  teachers 
of  religion,  practising  on  the  ignorance  and  superstition  of  the  negroes 
in  this  island,  to  their  great  loss  and  impoverishment :  and  whereas  an 

*  Vide  Death -warrant  of  Negro  Slavery,  "  printed  for  the  Society,"  &c.  pp.  xi.22. 32,  33. 


80  Vmce  of  the  Country — Abolition  of  Slavery.  [JULY, 

ample  provision  is  already  made  by  the  public  and  by  private  persons 
for  the  religious  instruction  of  the  slaves,  Be  it  enacted/'  &c. 

Alexander  Barclay,  Esq.,  a  gentleman  well  known  as  a  man  of  honour 
and  probity,  in  a  letter  addressed  to  Sir  George  Murray,  recently 
published,  states,  that  "  many  benevolent  persons  in  England  accus- 
tomed to  read  the  Anti-Slavery  Reports,  will  find  difficulty  in  believing 
that  any  portion  of  comfort,  much  less  of  wealth,  can  be  in  the  posses- 
sion of  "  a  race  of  beings  degraded  to  the  level  of  brute  and  inanimate 
nature — driven  by  the  cart-whip  to  excess  of  labour,  and  stinted  of 
necessary  food,  even  to  the  shortening  of  their  miserable  days."  As  the 
colonists  deny  the  existence  of  any  such  wretchedness  amongst  their 
dependents,  the  question  is,  which  of  the  parties  is  to  be  believed  ?  The 
Reverend  James  Coultart,  a  baptist  minister  in  Jamaica,  in  a  letter 
addressed  to  his  patron,  Dr.  Ryland,  and  published  in  the  Baptist  Maga- 
zine, speaking  of  the  means  for  providing  a  new  chapel,  says,  "  When 
I  consider  that  by  my  own  feeble  exertions,  one  thousand  pounds  have 
been  collected  in  two  months  among  poor  slaves  or  negroes  in  our  own 
small  church,  I  hope,  allowing  a  little  time  for  the  rest,  that  we  shall, 
if  God  should  spare  life,  and  bless  succeeding  efforts,  obtain  our 
wishes.*  *  **  What  church  in  England  would  have  done  so  much  in 
the  time,  notwithstanding  their  superior  circumstances  ?"  Mr.  Barclay 
justly  observes,  that  if  a  thousand  of  the  Jamaica  planters  had  sworn 
to  this  fact,  they  would  not  have  been  believed  in  England  ! — but  here 
it  comes  from  more  undoubted  authority. — Another  of  these  preachers, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Barry,  states  that  at  the  opening  of  a  new  chapel  in 
December  last — "  some  person  put  a  gold  ring  into  the  plate.  Pre- 
vious to  making  the  evening  collection,  I  took  notice  of  the  circum- 
stance, and  said,  I  thought  there  were  many  such  superfluous  ornaments 
then  in  the  chapel  which  might  be  devoted  to  the  same  purpose,  and 
should,  if  given,  be  sacredly  applied  to  that  use."  (?)  Here  is  the  fact,  not 
only  that  their  money  is  taken,  but  that  even  the  little  trinkets  of  the 
coloured  or  black  females  are  actually  called  for  with  all  the  powers  of 
persuasion,  and  all  the  denunciations  of  such  ornaments  being  sinful 
and  forbidden.  But  it  appears  that  the  sectarians  of  Jamaica  go  even 
a  step  farther,  and  rival  the  Catholic  clergy  of  old — "  Among  the  most 
extraordinary,  and,  as  many  think,  most  objectionable  modes  resorted 
to  by  the  sectaries  for  raising  money  among  the  slaves,  is  that  of  selling 
f  tickets'  to  them,  which  is  practised,  I  believe,"  says  Mr.  Barclay,  {<  by 
all  the  sects,  with  the  exception  of  the  Moravians,  whose  disinterested 
conduct  in  their  holy  calling  forms  a  striking  contrast  to  that  of  their 
brethren*  These  tickets  are  small  slips  of  paper,  with  a  text  of  scripture 
written  on  them.  On  what  grounds  the  money  is  asked  by  the  different 
sects  from  the  poor  ignorant  creatures  who  buy  them,  I  know  not ;  but 
their  value  in  the  minds  of  the  negroes  may  be  understood  from  the 
following  little  anecdote  related  by  a  clergyman : — c  at  the  conclusion 
of  worship,  last  Sabbath,'  said  he,  '  an  aged  man  and  woman  came  to 
me  and  asked  for  tickets.'  The  reverend  gentleman,  after  some  con- 
versation, told  them  that  he  would  always  be  glad  to  see  them  at  wor- 
ship, and  would  willingly  explain  any  thing  they  did  not  understand, 
but  that  he  had  '  no  tickets  to  sell/  and  assured  them  that  tickets  would 
be  of  no  use  in  taking  them  to  heaven/  This  information  they  received 
with  considerable  indifference  and  incredulity,  from  which  it  appeared 
that  they  had  been  too  deeply  impressed  with  a  belief  in  the  merit  of 


1830.3  V™ce  °fthe  Country— Abolition  of  Slavery.  81 

the  tickets."  The  poor  deluded  creatures  had  mistaken  this  clergyman 
for  a  baptist  preacher,  who  had  settled  in  the  place,  and  who,  as  it 
appears,  was  exchanging  his  tickets  for  ten  penny  pieces  every  Sunday." 

According  to  the  Wesleyans,  a  ticket  is  "  the  certificate  of  continued 
membership  given  or  withheld  as  the  character  for  morality  and  industry 
is  satisfactory  or  otherwise.  What  idea  the  slaves  have  of  'f  member- 
ship, I  know  not,"  says  Mr.  Barclay ;  "  but  a  certificate  of  moral  charac- 
ter from  the  ministers  of  God  (for  such  the  ticket  is  described)  for 
which  they  pay  money,  can  hardly  be  otherwise  viewed  by  such  igno- 
rant creatures  than  as  a  passport  to  Heaven,  if  they  should  die  within 
the  current  quarter  !"  No  person  acquainted  with  the  implicit  faith 
placed  by  the  superstitious  natives  of  Africa  in  the  efficacy  of  amulets 
and  charms  (gris-gris),  can  for  a  moment  doubt  the  accuracy  of  this 
conjecture ;  and  we  would  ask  the  "  philanthropists"  of  England 
whether  these  artifices  for  raising  money  are  not  rather  more  likely  to 
perpetuate  than  to  expel  the  Pagan  superstitions  of  Africa?  And 
whether  this  is  a  proper  method  of  dispelling  pagan  darkness  by  the 
pure  lights  of  the  gospel  ?  Mr.  Barclay  gives  several  examples,  showing 
that  comparatively  enormous  sums  of  money  are  extorted  from  the 
negroes  in  this  manner !  Yet  it  was  for  endeavouring  to  check  such 
practices,  and  to  preserve  the  health  and  morals  of  the  negroes,  that  the 
humane  laws  enacted  by  the  legislature  of  Jamaica  in  1826,  were 
rejected  at  home. 

We  consider  it  necessary  to  notice  these  things  at  the  present  moment, 
because  from  the  renewed  activity  of  the  anti-colonial  party,  we  have 
reason  to  apprehend  some  new  attempt,  under  the  usual  pretence  of  vin- 
dicating the  rights  of  humanity,  about  to  be  made  upon  the  property  of 
our  already  impoverished  colonists.  Meetings  of  anti-slavery  societies 
have  been  held  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  and  although  the  "  saints" 
have  been  very  chary  about  publishing  all  the  slanderous  and  often  re- 
futed charges  habitually  brought  forward  on  these  occasions,  enough  has 
been  printed  to  indicate  their  intentions ;  and  it  has  become  necessary 
to  put  the  public  on  their  guard  against  their  deceitful  representations. 
Whenever  the  saints  have  made  specific  and  tangible  allegations,  they 
have  been  as  promptly  met  as  the  distance  between  this  country  and 
those  communities  whom  they  habitually  slander  will  admit.  For  in- 
stance, a  statement  which  appeared  some  time  ago  in  a  London  Jour- 
nal, entitled  "  Cruelties  of  West  India  Slavery  at  this  Moment :  by 
an  Eye- Witness,"  has  been  investigated;  and  the  slanderer,  a  Mr. 
George  Hamilton  Smith,  a  custom-house  officer  in  Jamaica,  disco- 
vered, and  forced,  at  a  public  examination,  to  acknowledge  that  his 
whole  statement  was  a  gross  falsehood  and  fabrication,  and  that  altera- 
tions were  even  made  at  home  upon  his  letter  before  it  was  published 
and  circulated,  under  the  patronage  of  the  anti-colonists,  who  still  de- 
fend it  on  the  ground  of  verisimilitude.  A  statement  made  some  time 
ago  by  Mr.  Clarkson  in  his  correspondence  with  Mr.  Green,  published 
in  1829 ;  namely,  that  "  several  aged,  worn  out  slaves,  would  have  died 
of  hunger  in  Antigua,  if  it  had  not  been  for  a  committee  in  London, 
which  supports  them  annually,"  has  been  fully  investigated  and  success- 
fully refuted.  It  turns  out  that  Mr.  Clarkson  has  been  deceived  by 
certain  designing  knaves  of  his  own  party,  who  had  embezzled  the 
money,  and  who,  on  the  institution  of  a  regular  inquiry,  acknowledged 
that  they  had  never  known  any  slave  in  distress,  who  did  not  receive 

M.  M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  55.  L 


82  Voice  of  the  Country — Abolition  of  Slavery.  [JULY, 

instant  and  effectual  relief  in  the  manner  provided  by  the  laws  of  the 
island  ;  and  that,  -in  fact,  there  were  no  slaves  in  the  island  requiring  any 
such  eleemosynary  aid !  It  must  be  obvious,  however,  that  between  the 
promulgation  of  these  statements  and  their  refutation  from  the  West 
Indies,  a  considerable  time  must  always  elapse ;  and  the  anti-colonial 
party  are  well  aware  of  the  advantage  which  is  thus  given  to  them. 
Moreover,  many  persons  see  these  slanderous  charges,  which,  as  in  the 
latter  instance,  are  sometimes  put  forth  not  in  a  fugitive  shape,  but  in 
octavo  volumes,  and  thus  perpetuated,  who  do  not  see  their  subsequent 
refutation. 

The  London  Anti-Slavery  Society  also  held  a  meeting  lately ;  and  as 
this  society  has  been  rather  falling  into  bad  odour  with  the  public,  it 
became  necessary  to  make  some  effort  to  collect  the  usual  audience ;  and 
it  was  therefore  announced,  by  previous  advertisement,  that  Mr.  Wilber- 
force  was  to  take  the  chair. 

The  room  being  quickly  filled,  the  chairman  supported  by  Mr.  F. 
Buxton,  Mr.  Macauley,  jun.,  Lord  Calthorpe,  the  Rev.  Daniel  Wilson, 
and  the  usual  squad  of  abolitionists,  after  a  few  words  from  Mr.Clarkson, 
commenced  the  business  of  the  day,  by  making  a  long  speech,  wherein  in- 
stead of  candidly  taking  blame  to  himself  for  the  hasty  and  precipitate 
zeal  with  which  he  had  originally  hurried  forward  the  abolition  of  the 
slave  trade,  or  lamenting  the  great  extent  and  additional  cruelty  with 
which  it  is  carried  on  by  foreigners,  mainly  in  consequence  of  that  pre- 
cipitancy ;  he  complained  that  nothing  had  been  done,  and  expressed  his 
fears  that  nothing  could  be  done  for  the  final  abolition  of  slavery,  except 
at  a  very  distant  period.  He  adverted  to  the  measures  of  1823,  which 
he  asserted  were  brought  forward  by  Mr.  Canning,  with  the  concurrence 
and  by  the  suggestion  of  the  West  Indians  !  who  had,  since  then,  per- 
tinaciously refused,  ce  one  and  all,"  to  adopt  these  proposals. — Now  we 
assert,  and  we  need  only  refer  to  documents  quoted  in  former  numbers 
of  our  Magazine  to  prove  the  assertion,  that  with  the  exception  of  com- 
pulsary  manumission,  a  subsequent  measure,  against  which  the  colonists 
have  indeed,  "  one  and  all,"  from  the  very  first,  opposed  themselves  ; 
and  with  the  exception  of  a  very  few  of  the  resolutions  of  1823,  which 
they  consider  dangerous  or  premature,  almost  every  one  of  these  re- 
commendations have,  in  effect,  been  adopted.* 

He  then  proposed  to  take  the  whole  authority  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
colonists,  abolishing  their  legislatures  of  course,  and  to  proceed  in  the 
work  of  emancipation  without  their  concurrence !  He  concluded  by 
praising  the  high  mindedness  of  the  blacks,  and  asserted  that  "  should 
England  proceed  as  she  had  hitherto  done— making  free  with  the  rights 
and  liberties  of  those  whom  Providence  had  placed  under  her  protection 
— the  time  of  retribution  could  not  be  far  distant ;  for  she  could  not 
expect  in  that  case  that  a  great  and  just  God  would  continue  to  her  her 
own  abused  blessings  which  she  had  so  long  enjoyed  with  so  little  gra- 
titude." We  do  not  presume  to  interpret  the  inscrutable  decrees  of  Pro- 
vidence, but  we  certainly  do  think  that  if  England  were  to  give  way  to 
the  indiscreet  zeal  of  the  anti-colonists,  and  to  replunge  the  negro  popu- 
lation into  that  state  of  barbarism  from  which  they  are  gradually  emerg- 
ing, she  would  add  much  to  the  responsibility  of  her  present  position. 

*  Vide  An  Abstract  of  the  British  West  Indian  Statutes  for  the  Protection  and  Govern- 
ment of  Slaves. — Ridgway,  1830. 


1830.]  Voice  of  the  Country— Abolition  of  Slavery.  83 

Mr.  Wilberforce  was  followed  by  Mr.  Buxton,  Lord  Milton,  and  that 
"  precious  youth/'  Mr.  T.  B.  Macauley,  who  amused  the  meeting  by 
comparing  the  "  high  minded"  negroes  to  post  horses  ! — Mr.  Hunt  en- 
deavoured to  procure  a  hearing  for  the  poor  paupers  of  England,  and 
reminded  the  meeting  that  in  some  parishes  they  were  forced  to  draw 
waggons  in  the  depth  of  winter,  or  starve ;  but  as  these  unfortunates 
were  merely  "  free-born  Englishmen,"  with  white  complexion,  he  was 
hooted  down  and  could  not  obtain  anything  like  a  fair  hearing. — The 
Rev.  Daniel  Wilson  next  took  in  hand  the  motion  intrusted  to  him, 
which  was  in  reference  to  "  the  moral  and  religious  bearings  of  the 
question,"  and,  in  the  course  of  his  speech,  censured  "  the  great  religious 
societies  of  the  church  of  England,  especially  in  reference  to  the 
Codrington  estates  in  Barbadoes,  which,  though  in  the  hands  of  the 
f  Society  for  Propagating  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts,'  for  120  years 
past,  were  still  worked  by  slaves,  whose  condition  for  a  great  part  of 
that  time  differed  little  from  that  of  the  slave  population  around  them, 
and  was  still  a  reproach  to  the  church  of  England," — for  which  we  shall 
have  a  word  with  him  by  and  by !  Mr.  Wilson  was  followed  by  Mr. 
Bennet,  Mr.  Brownlow,  and  others ;  and  the  meeting  having  talked 
themselves  into  a  fitting  state  to  second  any  measure  however  violent, 
— Mr  Pownall  proposed,  as  an  amendment  to  one  of  the  resolutions,  that 
"  from  and  after  the  1st  of  January,  1830,  every  child  born  within  the 
king's  dominions  shall  be  free" — Mr.  H.  Drummond  seconded  the 
motion — affirming  that  "  there  were  subjects  on  which  it  was  disgraceful 
to  speak  coolly,  but  if  he  controuled  himself  now,  and  if  he  conjured 
those  who  heard  him  to  controul  themselves  also,  it  was  that  they  might 
keep  smothered  within  them  a  more  intense  Jtre, — it  was  that  they  might 
keep  from  dissipating  in  idle  speeches  in  a  tavern,  what  was  yet  to  be 
called  into  action  in  a  more  efficient  place.  In  his  conscience,  however, 
he  believed  and  feared,  that  this  question  would  never  be  carried  until 
some  black  O'Connell,  or  some  swarthy  Bolivar  was  found  to  take  it  up!" 

Mr.  Brougham  and  Mr.  S.  Rice,  who  must  have  felt  ashamed  of  these 
unseemly  ebullitions  of  spleen,  demonstrated  the  impractibility  of  the 
amendment,  and  opposed  or  qualified  it.  They  were  followed  by  Mr. 
Dan  O'Connell,  who  seeing  the  meeting  inclined  to  be  placable,  and 
not  having  the  fear  of  Mr.  Doherty  before  his  eyes,  manfully  declared 
that  (( he  had  served  three  apprenticeships  to  agitation,"  and  that  "ifwe 
were  to  go  to  battle,  the  sooner  we  began  the  fight  the  better."  After  a 
good  deal  of  further  blarney  he  talked  of  "  a  voice  of  thunder  in  the 
glens  and  valleys  of  his  native  land"  that  had  made  itself  heard  already, 
and  "  should  ere  long  be  heard  again  /" — meaning,  we  suppose,  that 
he  is  to  raise  a  rebellion  in  Ireland  for  the  benefit  of  the  negroes  in 
Jamaica. — After  Mr.  Buckingham  and  others  had  delivered  their  senti- 
ments, the  thanks  of  the  meeting  were  voted  to  Mr.  Wilberforce,  and 
the  audience  dispersed. 

The  most  prominent  feature  in  the  resolutions  of  this  meeting  is  that 
which  pledges  the  abolitionists  to  have  a  day  fixed  after  which  all  the 
children  of  slaves  shall  be  born  free ;  but  whether  they  mean  to  take 
this  question  out  of  the  hands  of  Mr.  Otway  Cave,  or  whether  that 
gentleman  has  given  it  up,  and  joined  Mr.  James  Salt  Buckingham,  (as 
would  seem  to  be  indicated  by  a  paper  put  into  our  hands  at  the  door,) 
in  schemes  for  encouraging  the  trade  and  civilization  of  China,  time 
must  show  !  To  revert  to  the  charge  of  the  Rev.  Daniel  Wilson  against 

L2 


84  Voice  of  the  Counlry— Abolition  of  Slavery. 

"  the  Society  for  Propagating  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts" — an  accusa- 
tion originally  brought  forward  in  that  repository  of  mendacity,  the  Anti- 
Slavery  Reporter,  and  successfully  refuted,  as  Mr.  Wilson  ought  to  have 
known,  in  the  tenth  number  of  the  British  Critic  (pp.  435  to  454),  we 
would  refer  in  further  refutation  of  this  charge  to  the  annual  report  of 
the  society  itself,  and  also  to  the  report  of  another  society,  viz.  the  Negro 
Conversion  Society,  for  1828,  pp.  90  and  91,  from  which  we  make  the 
following  extract : — 

"  Upon  the  estates  held  in  trust  by  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel,  under  the  will  of  the  late  General  Codrington,  '  for  the  erection  of  a 
college  on  the  property,  established  as  a  public  institution  for  the  advancement 
of  learning,  and  to  be  maintained  by  the  labour  of  slaves/  there  is  a  regular  chap- 
lain, whose  views  are  exclusively  directed  towards  the  promotion  of  Christian 
knowledge  and  Christian  habits  among  the  slaves.  He  performs  divine  service 
twice  on  tbe  Sunday,  and  gives  catechetical  instruction  to  25  scholars  for  two 
hours  in  the  body  of  the  chapel  previously  to  public  worship  j  and  out  of  crop 
season  on  one  day  of  the  week.  The  chapel  is  open  to  the  neighbouring  pro- 
perties, and  is  attended  by  many  free  coloured  persons  and  slaves  from  them. 

"  The  society  also  maintains  a  school  for  the  younger  children  in  a  small  neat 
house,  situated  between  the  two  estates,  in  which  there  are  48  scholars.  They 
are  taught  to  read  on  the  national  plan,  and  remain  under  the  tuition  of  their 
governess,  Miss  Davies,  from  9  till  1  every  day,  Saturday  excepted. 

"  An  ample  provision  is  thus  made  for  the  religious  instruction  of  the  negroes 
on  these  estates.  Their  number  is  366,  in  which  there  was  an  increase  by  births 
of  53  within  7  yearn,  exclusively  of  3  who  had  purchased  their  freedom.' 

Further  details  of  the  management  of  these  estates  are  contained  in  a 
printed  letter  addressed  by  Mr.  Forster  Clarke  to  the  Rev.  A.  Hamil- 
ton, from  which  we  extract  the  following  passages :  — 

"  You  have  no  doubt  received  the  fullest  information  respecting  tbe  school, 
and  plan  of  religious  instruction  pursued  on  these  estates,  from  the  chap- 
lains who  have  resided  on  them.  Every  child  on  the  estate,  from  six  to  ten 
years  of  age,  attends  the  daily  school,  argeeably  to  the  instructions  of  the  society, 
(but  in  no  instance  are  they  removed  too  young,  many  remaining  until  they  are 
14  years  old) ;  and  after  that  period  they  are  taken  into  the  Sunday-school,  and 
are  carefully  instructed  in  the  knowledge  of  religious  duties  and  Christian  princi- 
ples. They  are  also  compelled  to  attend  the  chapel  on  Sundays,  when  a  large 
portion  of  the  adult  and  older  slaves  also  assemble,  and  where  divine  service  is 
performed  twice  a  day  on  Sundays,  with  a  lecture  by  the  chaplain  at  each  ser- 
vice :  and  the  society  have  been  most  fortunate  in  the  appointment  of  persons  to 
fulfil  these  duties,  which  have  been  performed  by  their  late  and  present  chaplain 
with  an  uncommon  degree  of  zeal  and  assiduity. 

"  My  observations  are  confined  to  the  system  pursued  on  the  Codrington 
estates,  where  the  continued  and  regular  increase  of  the  population  is  an  evident 
proof  of  the  welfare  of  the  slaves,  and  of  the  benefit  of  these  regulations." 

And  to  sum  up  the  whole,  Mr.  Coleridge,  in  his  Six  Months  in  the 
West  Indies  in  1825,  pp.  60  and  61,  states  that— 

"  The  trustees  of  Codrington  College  comprise  a  large  portion  of  the  learning 
and  virtue  of  England  ;  their  disinterestedness  is  perfect — their  intention  excel- 
lent—their care  commendable.  Their  disposable  funds  are  ample,  and  the  trust 
estates  remarkably  flourishing.  They  deserve  this  prosperity ;  their  zeal  for  the 
welfare  of  their  slaves  is  most  exemplary,  and  they  have  gone  to  the  utmost 
bounds  of  prudence  in  advancing  the  condition  of  those  negroes  whose  happi- 
ness and  salvation  have  been  committed  to  them.  A  chapel  and  a  school  have 
been  erected  almost  exclusively  for  their  use,  and  a  clergyman,  (the  Rev.  J.  H. 
Finder,)  fixed  amongst  them,  whose  talents,  kindness,  and  simplicity  of  man- 


1830]  Voice  of  the  Country — Abolition  of  Slavery.  85 

ners,  are  not  more  remarkable  than  his  judgment  and  his  piety.  The  attorney 
and  manager  are  both  of  established  character,  the  buildings,  and  especially  the 
hospital,  in  good  order,  and  the  negroe  huts  comfortable." 

If,  therefore,  these  estates  are  "  still  a  reproach  to  the  Church 
of  England"  we  would  ask  what  proprietor  of  property  in  the  West 
Indies  can  escape  censure  ?  and,  if  the  labourers  upon  them  "  differ 
little"  from  the  surrounding  population — whether  there  is  any  just 
ground  of  complaint — especially  in  regard  to  religious  instruction? 
In  short,  it  must  appear  evident  that  the  Reverend  Daniel  Wilson  has 
either  been  grossly  deceived, — or,  if  the  anti-slavery  report  be  correct, 
has  disgraced  his  holy  calling  by  publicly  uttering  a  base  and  scandalous 
libel! 

To  return  to  the  anti- slavery  meeting — the  arts  usually  resorted  to  on 
these  occasions  for  attracting  public  attention  were  not  lost  sight  of. 
Negroes,  whose  personal  appearance  gave  no  very  favourable  idea  of 
their  progress  in  civilization,  were  posted  at  the  door,  or  carried  placards 
in  front  of  Freemason's  Hall,  with  an  inscription  round  their  hats, 
"  Am  not  I  a  Man  and  your  Brother  ?"  These  fellows  had  been  hired 
for  the  occasion — one  of  them  is  said  to  have  declared  that  he  and  his 
brethren  in  attendance  knew  nothing  of  the  objects  of  the  meeting — that 
he  was  a  Roman  Catholic,  originally  from  Guadaloupe,  "  that  he  wor- 
shipped St.  Joseph  and  the  Virgin  Mary,  but  knew  nothing  of  our 
Saviour  !  Such,"  says  a  respectable  contemporary,  ' f  was  the  confession 
of  this  poor  black  man,  hired  by  the  Anti-Slavery  Society  to  parade 
before  the  door  of  a  meeting-house,  wherein  Mr.  Wilberforce  and  his 
colleagues  were  complaining  that  their  missionaries  have  not  full  scope 
for  instructing  the  slaves  in  the  West  Indies  \" 

Notwithstanding  that  constables  were  in  attendance,  many  persons 
had  their  pockets  picked;  and  altogether,  on  a  calm  review  of  the 
whole  affair,  it  is  quite  clear  that  the  day  for  this  kind  of  humbug  has 
gone  by,  and  that  the  friends  of  Mr.  Wilberforce  acted  very  injudiciously 
in  again  exhibiting  the  old  gentleman  to  the  gaze  of  a  mob,  and  the  scru- 
tiny of  the  public.  We  do  not  hesitate  to  tell  them  that  however  loudly 
they  may  halloo  in  his  ear  that  he  is  the  benefactor  of  the  human  race, 
the  friend  of  the  negro,  and  the  regenerator  of  Africa — they  cannot  stifle 
the  still  small  voice  which  whispers  to  him  that  his  philanthropy  has  been 
of  a  holy-day  and  pharasaiacal  cast ;  that,  owing  greatly  to  his  indiscreet 
zeal,  the  slave  trade  is  carried  on  by  foreigners  with  much  greater  cruelty 
now  than  when  it  was  a  regulated  trade,  under  humane  provisions — the 
necessity  for  concealment  having  brought  hundreds  of  thousands  of  poor 
creatures  to  a  cruel  end  ; — that  his  friends,  particularly  at  Sierra  Leone, 
have  disgraced  the  cause  of  humanity  by  their  selfishness  ; — that  seven 
millions  of  public  money  has  been  uselessly  wasted,  our  own  colonies 
injured,  and  the  number  of  slaves  in  foreign  colonies  immensely  in- 
creased ;  and,  finally,  that  all  the  future  exertions  of  his  party,  even  if 
they  were  to  succeed  in  throwing  the  British  West  Indies  into  confusion, 
could  only  end  in  ruin  and  massacre  similar  to  that  which  has  come 
upon  St.  Domingo,  and  the  sugar  districts  of  Mexico ;  together  with  a 
similar  obliteration  of  all  the  benefits  which  our  West  India  labourers 
have  derived,  and  are  daily  deriving  from  the  present  system  of  religious 
education,  and  gradual  amelioration, 


86  Voice  of  the  Country — Abolition  of  Slavery.  [\TULY, 

In  conclusion,  we  would  seriously  recommend  to  the  colonial  legis- 
latures, and  to  every  one  interested  in  the  prosperity  of  the  West-India 
colonies,  to  use  every  means  in  their  power  to  second  the  views  of 
Governments/or  Improving  the  Condition  of  the  Negro  Population — so  far 
as  these  views  may  be  practicable,  and  not  dangerous  to  the  welfare  of 
all, — standing  up  at  the  same  time  firmly  and  decisively  against  every 
attempt  at  encroachment  or  interference  on  the  part  of  the  anti- colonists 
and  their  objectionable  missionaries,  whose  interference  should  be 
promptly  checked,  even  to  the  extent  of  deportation,  the  instant  it  ex- 
ceeds the  bounds  properly  assignable  to  their  functions  as  ministers  of 
religion. 

The  number  of  manumissions,  principally  originating  in  kind  and  be- 
nevolent feelings,  and  the  gradual  increase  of  knowledge  amongst  all 
classes,  is  the  best  guarantee  for  the  abolition  of  slavery ;  and  in  the 
event  of  any  convulsion  caused  in  this  country,  from  bad  counsel,  or 
otherwise, — the  colonists  cannot  for  an  instant  doubt  that,  from  one 
quarter  or  another — prompt  and  efficient  protection  would,  without  much 
difficulty,  be  obtained  for  them. 


THE    SUGAR    CANE.* 

THE  author  of  this  instructive  and  entertaining  work  very  justly 
observes,  that  few  subjects  are  of  greater  consequence  to  the  commerce 
of  the  British  empire  than  the  sugar-trade,  whether  considered  with 
reference  to  the  vast  amount  of  capital  which  it  employs,  or  the  extent 
of  the  public  revenue  which  it  yields. 

He  observes  that  during  the  past  and  present  centuries  it  has  in- 
creased in  an  eight-fold  (he  might  have  said  almost  in  a  twenty-fold) 
degree,  and  that  the  class  of  merchants  to  whom  it  gives  employment 
is  second  in  respectability  and  intelligence  to  none  of  the  great  mer- 
cantile interests  in  this  country. 

Under  these  circumstances  a  good  account  of  the  nature  and  proper- 
ties of  this  useful  plant,  the  saccharum  officinarum  of  Botanists,  and  of 
the  best  methods  of  manufacturing  its  products  into  sugar,  a  food 
equally  pleasant,  nutritious,  and  medicinal, — was  a  desideratum  which 
has  been  opportunely  supplied  at  the  very  moment  when  the  atten- 
tion of  the  public  had  been  attracted  to  the  subject,  by  the  present 
parliamentary  discussions  on  the  sugar  duties,  and  by  the  depressed 
situation  of  our  West- India  interests. 

The  author  commences  with  an  account  of  the  first  culture  of  the 
sugar-cane,  which  he  affirms  was  known,  and  its  produce  scientifically 
manufactured  by  the  Chinese,  two  thousand  years  before  it  was  intro- 
duced and  enjoyed  in  Europe !  That  sugar,  chiefly  in  the  candied  form, 
was  known  as  an  article  of  commerce  long  before  the  cane  began  to 
be  cultivated  in  the  countries  bordering  on  the  Mediterranean;  and 
that  it  was  not  planted,  even  in  Arabia,  until  about  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, having  up  to  that  period  been  brought  from  the  islands  of  the 
Indian  Archipelago,  in  the  kingdoms  of  Bengal,  Siam,  &c.  From 


*  The  Nature  and  Properties  of  the  Sugar- Cane,  with  Practical  Directions  for  the  Improve- 
ment of  its  Culture  and  the  Manufacture  of  its  Products.  Smith,  Elder  and  Co.  1  vol.  8vo. 


1830.]  The  Sugar  Cane.  87 

Arabia-Felix  its  culture  passed  into  Nubia,  Egypt,  and  Ethiopia ; 
thence  to  Sicily,  the  Canaries,  and  St.  Domingo.  It  spread  so  rapidly 
in  the  latter  island,  and  sugar  quickly  became  an  article  of  such  im- 
portance, that  we  are  told  the  cost  of  the  palaces  of  Madrid  and  Toledo, 
erected  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  was  defrayed  by  the  proceeds 
of  the  port  duties  on  the  sugar  imported  from  Hispaniola. 

Once  introduced,  its  culture  was  rapidly  extended  in  the  western 
world ;  but  our  limits  will  not  admit  of  our  entering  upon  the  discus- 
sion whether  it  was  or  was  not  indigenous  to  the  West  Indies.  One 
rather  curious  fact  seems  to  militate  against  the  former  assumption, 
namely,  that  although  it  flourishes  in  the  West  Indies,  its  organs  of  fruc- 
tification appear  to  be  without  the  power  of  fecundity.  "  A  whitish 
dust,  or  rather  seed,  is  sometimes  produced  from  the  flowers ;  yet  this 
being  sown,  has  never  been  known  to  vegetate ;  while  in  the  East, 
canes  may  be  raised  from  seed."  (p.  16.) 

The  Venetians'  seem  to  have  been  the  earliest  refiners  of  sugar  in 
Europe.  "  At  first  they  imitated  the  Chinese,  and  sold  the  sugar  which 
they  purified  in  the  shape  of  candy  ;  clearing  and  refining  the  coarse 
sugar  of  Egypt  three  or  four  times  over.  They  afterwards  adopted  the 
use  of  cones,  and  sold  refined  sugar  in  the  loaf." 

Dr.  Dutrone,  in  his  Histoire  de  la  Canne,  "  states  the  period  of  the 
sugar  plant's  arrival  at  its  full  maturity,  to  be  from  twelve  to  twenty 
months ;  but  he  was  unacquainted  with  the  Otaheitan  variety,  which 
was  introduced  into  the  West  Indies  about  the  end  of  the  last  and  be- 
ginning of  the  present  centuries.  This  is  much  larger  and  finer  than 
the  Brazil  cane,  and  comes  to  maturity  in  about  ten  months,  in  the  ele- 
vated parts  of  the  older  settled  West  India  Islands  j  but  in  vales,  and 
in  the  low  alluvial  soils  of  the  colonies,  where  the  land  has  not  been 
much  cropped,  the  plant  is  oftener  from  twelve  to  sixteen  months,  and 
even  longer,  in  becoming  full  ripe"  (p.  17)-  The  cane  contains  three 
sorts  of  juice,  one  aqueous,  another  saccharine,  and  the  third  mucous. 
The  relative  proportions  of  these,  and  the  quality  of  the  two  last,  depend 
upon  a  great  number  of  particular  circumstances,  a  knowledge  of  which 
is  of  the  greatest  importance  in  regulating  the  judicious  care  required 
for  the  cultivation  of  this  plant." 

Accurate  and  minutely  discriptive  drawings  are  given  of  the  cane. 
"  The  roots  are  very  slender  and  almost  cylindrical ;  they  are  never 
more  than  a  foot  in  length ;  a  few  short  fibres  appear  at  their  extre- 
mities." The  number  of  joints  of  the  stalk  or  cane,  vary  from  forty  to  sixty, 
sometimes  even  eighty  in  the  Brazilian  cane  ;  bnt  there  are  much  fewer 
in  that  from  Otaheite,  its  joints  being  much  further  apart,  some  of  these 
bein^  eight  or  nine  inches  long,  while  the  finer  specimens  of  those  of 
Brazil,  are  from  two  or  three  inches  in  length.  There  is  on  every  joint 
a  bud,  which  encloses  the  germ  of  a  new  cane." 

"  It  would  perhaps  be  tedious  minutely  to  follow  the  plant  through  all  the 
different  shades  of  its  developement  and  growth.  Its  juice  is,  of  course,  variously 
modified  in  all  its  different  stages :  in  its  first  formation  it  has  all  the  character- 
istics of  that  of  unripe  mucous  fruits  ;  after  awhile  it  very  much  resembles  both 
in  taste  and  smell  the  juice  of  sweet  apples;  by  degrees  it  loses  this,  and  takes 
the  smell  and  taste  peculiar  to  the  cane. 

fl  The  first  joint  requires  four  or  five  months  for  its  entire  growth,  and,  during 
this  time,  fifteen  or  twenty  joints  spring  from  it  in  succession,  and  the  same 
progression  continues  as  by  degrees  each  joint  arrives  at  the  period  of  its  growth, 
which  is  ascertained  hy  the  decay  of  its  leaf.  *  *  *  The  last  joint,  which  is 


88  The  Sugar  Cane.  QJuLY, 

called  the  arrow,  is  four  or  five  feet  long ;  it  is  terminated  by  a  panicle  of  sterile 
flowers,  which  are  eighteen  or  twenty  inches  high. 

"  In  new  and  moist  land,  such  as  the  colonies  of  Dutch  Guiana,  the  cane 
grows  to  the  height  of  twelve,  fifteen,  or  even  twenty  feet.  In  arid  calcareous 
soils,  it  sometimes  does  not  attain  a  greater  height  than  six  feet,  and  one  of  ten 
feet  is  considered  long." 

The  cane  originally  brought  from  the  Island  of  Bourbon,  and  reported 
by  the  French  to  be  the  growth  of  the  coast  of  Malabar,  seems  now  to 
the  favourite.  It  and  the  Otaheite  cane  are  similar  in  growth  and  ap- 
pearance. They  are  much  larger  than  the  Brazilian,  the  joints  of  some 
measuring  eight  or  nine  inches  long,  and  six  in  circumference.  They 
are  ripe  enough  to  grind  at  the  age  of  ten  months  ;  they  appear  to  stand 
the  weather  better,  and  are  not  liable  to  be  attacked  by  that  destruc- 
tive insect  the  borer.  They  are  considered  so  superior  to  the  old  canes, 
that  their  adoption  has  nearly  banished  the  original  Brazilian  plant  from 
our  islands.  "  A  mixture  of  clay  and  sand,  or  what  has  been  called 
brick-mould,  seems  to  be  generally  acknowledged  as  most  favourable  to 
the  growth  of  the  cane ;  and,  although  the  effects  of  rain  on  this  soil 
are  apparently  soon  over,  the  inner  portion  retains  a  considerable  degree 
of  moisture,  even  in  the  driest  weather,  and  it  has  the  advantage  of  sel- 
dom requiring  trenches  to  be  made  even  in  the  wettest  season." — (p.  33.) 
• — Next  to  this  the  favourite  soil  is  a  black  mould.  We  must,  however, 
refer  to  the  publication  itself  for  much  valuable  information  on  this  sub- 
ject, and  also  regarding  manures,  the  application  of  which  the  Chinese 
are  said  to  understand  better  than  most  of  our  planters. 

In  planting  canes  the  use  of  the  plough  is  recommended,  and  is  fre- 
quenty  used  on  lands  that  are  suitable  for  its  operations. — Cf  In  about  a 
fortnight  after  planting,  the  young  sprouts  appear  a  few  inches  above  the 
earth."  The  holes  are  filled  up  with  earth  as  the  plant  rises,  and  care 
is  taken  to  extirpate  weeds,  and  also  to  clear  away  the  oflf-shoots,  which 
draw  off  the  nourishment  from  the  main  shoot. — "  When  the  skin  of  the 
cane  becomes  dry,  smooth,  and  brittle  ;  when  it  is  heavy  ;  the  pith  grey, 
approaching  to  brown;  the  juice  sweet  and  glutinous  ;  then  it  may  be  con- 
sidered in  perfection.  It  is  of  great  advantage  that  the  canes  should  be 
cut  in  the  dry  season,  as  they  then  always  produce  better  sugar  than  those 
cut  in  the  rainy  season,  when  they  are  more  replete  with  aqueous  juice, 
and  require  more  fuel  in  evaporating  it." 

The  ratoons  are  the  developement  of  the  buds  which  form  the  second- 
ary stole  of  a  plant  that  has  been  cut.  These  are  called  first,  second, 
third,  &c.  according  to  the  age  of  the  root  from  which  they  spring;  they 
are  found  annually  to  diminish  in  length  of  joint  and  circumference.  "  It 
is  found,  from  observation  and  experience,  that  the  juice  from  the  ratoons 
is  much  easier  clarified,  and  its  essential  salt  requires  less  care  in  concen- 
tration, than  that  of  the  plant  cane,  the  sugar  obtained  from  which  is 
also  of  an  inferior  quality."  (p.  49)  On  some  soils  it  is  found  to  be  advan- 
tageous to  depend  chiefly  on  ratoons. 

When  vegetation  appears  too  active,  it  is  then  advisable  to  take  off  the 
decayed  leaves  from  the  cane,  that  the  plant  may  receive  the  uninter- 
rupted rays  of  the  sun,  otherwise  its  juices  will  be  poor  and  aqueous. 
This  is  called  trashing  the  cane,  and  it  requires  great  judgment  to  know 
when  to  have  recourse  to  it.  Various  kinds  of  vermin  do  considerable 
injury,  and  the  usual  methods  of  destroying  them  are  pointed  out. 

• 


1630.]  The  Sugar  Cane.  &J 

The  canes,  being  ripe,  are  cut,  and  tied  into  bundles  for  the  conve- 
nience of  taking  to  the  mill. 

Chapter  fifth  contains  many  valuable  observations  on  the  vegetable 
economy  of  the  sugar  cane,  and  concerning  the  juice  of  plants  in  general. 
"In  the  last  modification  of  the  juice  (of  the  sugar  cane)  the  saccharine 
mucous  juice  is  entirely  deprived  of  its  yellow  colour  and  balsamic  smell, 
while  its  saccharine  taste  is  much  more  developed.  This  last  state  is  that 
which  constitutes  the  essential  salt  of  the  cane.  It  is  enclosed  in  cells, 
and  appears  beautifully  clear.  As  each  cell  is  absolutely  isolated,  and  as 
there  is  no  communication  between  them,  this  juice  only  escapes  when 
it  is  pressed  out  by  the  mills ;  it  can  never  flow  out  of  the  cane  either 
in  the  shape  of  syrup  or  concretion." 

When  the  canes  or  ratooris  are  ripe  they  are  cut  and  carried  to  the 
mills  in  bundles,  and  are  there  submitted  to  its  action.  They  are  com- 
pressed twice  between  the  rollers,  by  which  means  they  are  squeezed 
perfectly  dry.  In  this  process  the  juice  carries  with  it  some  of  the 
bruised  cane,  and  the  whole  forms  an  homogeneous  product  which  the 
author  denominates  the  expressed  juice  to  distinguish  it  from  that  what  is 
subsequently  clarified  and  concentrated. 

By  simple  exposure  to  the  air  and  sun  the  watery  parts  evaporate  and 
leave  sugar  in  the  crystalline  form  ;  but  unfortunately  the  quickness  with 
which  the  juice  passes  into  fermentation,  makes  this  operation  totally 
impracticable  on  a  large  scale,  and  hence  promptitude  in  boiling  the  juice 
is  absolutely  necessary ;  and  it  is  also  necessary  to  use  an  alkali  to  assist 
in  separating  the  feculent  part.  The  expressed  juice  of  the  cane  deprived 
of  its  feculency,  contains  the  sap  and  mucous  juices,  united  with  muci- 
lage, forming  together  the  cane  liquor,  a  clear,  transparent  fluid  of  a 
yellow  colour. 

The  saccharometer  is  recommended  for  ascertaining  the  specific 
gravities  of  fluids,  thereby  to  conduct  the  process  of  sugar  boiling  with 
greater  certainty  and  precision.  A  table  is  given  of  the  quantity  of 
sugar  contained  in  100  Ibs,  of  good  juice;  and  also  of  the  quantity  of 
water  that  must  be  evaporated  to  reduce  the  same  to  the  state  of  satu- 
rated syrup  taken  at  each  degree  of  the  saccharometer. 

This  part  of  the  work  contains  much  valuable  chemical  information 
regarding  the  boiling  process  and  comparative  value  of  the  juice  at 
different  periods,  and  under  various  circumstances,  well  worthy  the 
notice  of  sugar  planters,  especially  at  the  present  moment,  when  it  is  so 
necessary  to  adopt  every  possible  method  for  increasing  the  quality  of 
the  produce  of  their  estates,  and  for  saving  manual  labour. 

"  The  result  of  an  examination  into  the  actual  produce  of  a  considerable 
estate  in  Jamaica,  during  eleven  years,  gives  122  Ibs.  of  sugar  as  the 
highest  produce  of  100  gallons  cane  juice;  96  Ibs.  as  the  lowest,  and  108 
Ibs.  as  the  average  produce  (p.  J33  74. ;)  but  this  varies  very  much  in 
different  soils,  islands,  and  seasons.  Alkalis  are  injurious  in  proportion 
to  their  activity  in  separating  the  mucilage  from  the  feculent  parts ;  and 
in  the  necessity  of  employing  them  to  clarify  the  expressed  juice  we  should 
carefully  seek  for  every  means  of  judiciously  conducting  the  operation. 
This  delicate  and  important  office  w,  however^  generally  performed  in  the 
most  slovenly  and  careless  manner." 

In  the  manufacture  of  the  juice  into  sugar,  cleanliness  is  strictly 
enjoined,  the  buildings  and  utensils  minutely  described,  and  valuable 
practicable  improvements  indicated.  "  When  the  work  of  the  boiling". 

M.  M.  New  Series.— Vol.  X.  No.  55.  M 


90  The  Sugar  Cane.  [JULY, 

house  is  about  to  commence,  a  busy  and  cheerful  scene  ensues.  Negroes 
are  employed  in  cleaning  and  washing  out  the  coppers,  preparing 
the  quicklime,  and  making  lime-water.  The  mill  is  put  about,  and 
every  one  is  actively  employed."  Our  limits  will  not  permit  us 
to  give  even  a  tolerable  idea  of  the  various  operations  previous  to 
the  sugar  being  ready  for  potting,  or  putting  into  hogsheads.  The 
molasses  are  allowed  to  drain  through  holes  in  the  bottom  of  the 
cask.  "  It  is  a  good  plan,  and  will  abundantly  repay  the  trouble  it 
occasions,  if,  previously  to  heading  up  the  hogsheads,  the  portion  of 
sugar  which  is  least  perfectly  cured  is  taken  from  the  bottom  of  the 
cask,  and  its  place  is  supplied  with  dry  sugar.  The  portion  thus 
removed  may  then  be  returned  to  the  cooler ;  and  if  hot  liquor 
from  the  boiler  be  then  poured  upon  and  mixed  with  it,  the  sub- 
sequent curing  will  be  more  perfect  than  the  first."  Attention 
to  this,  and  similar  matters,  appear  to  us  of  great  importance,  as,  on 
many  estates,  more  serious  loss  is  occasioned  by  drainage  previous  to 
shipment,  and  during  the  voyage,  besides  consequent  deterioration  of 
quality  than  many  planters  are  aware  of.  The  sugar  made  in  this  way 
is  the  raw  or  muscovado  sugar,  commonly  used  in  this  country. 

In  the  foreign  colonies  an  additional  process  is  resorted  to  for  forming 
what  are  called  clayed  sugars.  It  is  put  into  conical  earthen  vessels, 
two  feet  or  upwards  in  height,  and  thirteen  or  fourteen  inches  in 
diameter  at  the  base — the  vortex  pierced  with  a  hole  of  about  an  inch  in 
diameter,  through  which  the  molasses  are,  in  the  first  place,  allowed  to 
drain.  To  deprive  the  sugar  of  the  greater  part  of  its  remaining  im- 
purities, the  sugar  is  pressed  down,  and  a  diluted  argillaceous  earth, 
or  clay,  put  on  the  base  of  the  cone  or  loaf  of  sugar.  The  clay  performs 
the  office  of  a  sponge,  allowing  the  water  to  percolate  slowly  through 
the  sugar;  the  syrup  which  it  contains  is  thus  diluted  and  rendered 
more  fluid,  and  descending  through  the  chrystals  to  the  lower  part  of 
the  form,  drains  into  the  pot  placed  beneath  to  receive  it.  The  clay, 
having  parted  with  all  its  water,  is  taken  off  the  base  of  the  loaf,  a 
second  and  third  repetition  of  the  process  takes  place. 

The  sugar  is  then  left  in  the  form  for  twenty  days  longer,  that  the 
sugar  may  be  entirely  freed  from  syrup.  It  is  then  taken  out  of  the 
form,  and  exposed  to  the  heat  of  the  sun.  Afterwards  it  is  well  dried 
in  a  stove,  pulverized  in  wooden  trays  or  troughs,  put  into  hogsheads, 
and  sent  to  market. 

In  Cuba  and  Brazil,  where  larger  cones  are  used,  the  loaf,  after 
stoving,  is  divided  into  three  portions :  the  base  is  called  white,  the 
middle  yellow,  and  the  small  part  brown.  These  portions  are  pulver- 
ized, packed  separately,  in  wooden  boxes,  for  sale. 

"  It  is  calculated  that  about  one-sixth  of  the  chrystalline  sugar  is  dis- 
solved, and  runs  off  in  the  operation  of  claying ;  this,  together  with  the 
extra  labour  and  utensils  required,  are  not  thought  to  be  sufficiently 
counterbalanced  by  the  improvement  in  quality.  Sugar  is,  therefore, 
very  seldom  clayed  for  exportation  in  the  English  colonies."(p-  92.) 
The  syrup  which  runs  from  the  sugar  during  the  operation  of  claying  is 
re-crystallized  and  re-undergoes  a  similar  process. 

The  author  enters  into  a  full  statement  of  the  French  method  of  ma- 
nufacturing sugar,  and  of  the  improvements  suggested  by  Dutrone,  from 
which  the  British  planter  may  derive  some  useful  hints. 

"  Syrups  when  concentrated  beyond  the  point  of  solution,  assume,  in  cooling, 


1830.]  The  Sugar  Cant.  91 

the  crystalline  form.  Experience  shows  us  that  the  molecules  (or  small  parts) 
of  similar  bodies,  in  taking  this  form  require  to  move  more  freely  in  the  fluid. 
which  holds  them  in  solution,  in  order  to  their  exercising  upon  each  other  their 
mutual  attraction.  These  molecules  take,  in  their  union,  a  form  much  more 
regular  in  proportion  as  the  water  in  which  they  unite  themselves  is  more  con- 
siderable. When  the  mother  water  exists  in  a  great  proportion  compared  to  the 
sugar  which  is  to  be  crystallized,  very  large  and  regular  crystals  are  formed  ; 
in  this  state  it  is  called  sugar  candy.  We  know  that  salts  are  much  more  pure 
and  perfect  as  the  forms  they  take  approach  nearer  to  those  which  nature  has 
Assigned  to  them.  Sugar  candy  is  in  the  most  perfect  state  that  can  be  desired, 
and  the  means  that  it  is  proper  to  employ  to  extract  the  essential  salt  of  the  cane, 
ought,  therefore,  to  be  founded  on  this  principle  of  chemistry  ;—  to  crystallize  in 
a  considerable  quantity  of  water,  a  principle  fully  ascertained  and  established  for 
all  bodies  which  crystallize  in  cooling."—  (P.  142.) 

Some  interesting  chemical  facts  are  stated  under  the  head  of  "  An- 
alysis and  Properties  of  Sugar."  —  480  grains  of  sugar  decomposed  by 
heating  them  gradually  to  redness,  showed  the  following  products  : 
Acetic  acid  and  oil       .....  270  grains 
Charcoal      .         .         .         .  .  120     „ 

Carburetted  hydrogen  and  carbonic  acid  gas     90     „ 

480 

If  pieces  of  sugar  be  rubbed  against  each  other  in  the  dark,  phos- 
phorescent sparks  are  clearly  visible.  —  (P.  165.)* 

The  clamminess  observed  in  West  India  raw  sugar  kept  for  some 
time  in  the  warehouses  in  this  country  is  atributed  to  the  action  of 
the  lime.  —  "  It  is  a  common  error  to  suppose  that  highly  refined  sugar 
is  less  saccharine  than  raw  sugar  j  the  fact  being  that,  in  the  most 
refined  sugar,  the  saccharine  taste  is  more  developed  than  the  sweet 
taste,  and  thus,  although  more  saccharine  it  sweetns  less.  It  would  be 
a  work  of  supererogation  to  enumerate  all  the  various  uses  of  sugar. 
f  '  It  affords,"  says  Dr.  Rush  of  Philadelphia  and  other  eminent  phy- 
sicians, "  the  greatest  quantity  of  nourishment  in  a  given  quantity  of  matter 
of  any  subject  in  nature"  —  and  its  numerous  medicinal  properties  confer 
incalculable  benefits  upon  all  who  are  able  to  use  it  in  any  quantity!  : 
yet  our  government  and  political  economists  who  profess  to  study  so 
much  the  comforts  and  health  of  the  people,  load  it  with  such  enormous 
duties  that  the  lower  orders  cannot,  by  any  possibility,  consume  the 
tenth  part  that  they  otherwise  would  do. 

Plans  and  descriptions  of  the  most  improved  sugar  mills  are  given  ; 
and  also  some  account  of  the  various  patents  for  improvements  in  the 
manufacture  of  sugar,  principally  with  a  view  of  purifying  the  juice,  re- 
gulating the  boiling  process,  and  for  expelling  the  molasses  ;  most  of  these 

*  "  Lavoisier  was  the  first  who  discovered  that  sugar  is  a  vegetable  oxide  composed  of 
oxygen,  carbon,  and  hydrogen.  The  following  are  the  results  of  analysis  by  different 
chymists  : 


Lavoisier.  ta.  ^elius.  Prout.  Ure. 

Oxygen  ......  54  50.63  49.856  53.35  50-33 

Carbon  ......  28  42.47  43.265  39-99  43-38 

Hydrogen  ----    8  6.90  6.879  6.66  6-29 

100  100  100  100  100 

f  Vide  pp.  161  to  171  —  for  many  interesting  facts  in  illustration  of  this  part  of  the 
Subject. 


92  The  Sugar  Cane.  [JULY, 

are  liable  to  objections  on  account  of  the  great  risk  of  derangement  of  the 
apparatus  in  a  country  where  engineers  are  not  very  numerous.,  and  where 
few,  if  any,  can  lay  claim  to  much  ingenuity ;  this  circumstance  together 
with  the  general  carelessness  of  West  Indian  labourers,  renders  it  abso- 
lutely necessary  that  every  improvement  should  be  recommended  by  the 
simplicity  of  its  machinery.  Amongst  those  for  regulating  the  boiling 
process,  the  patent  of  Messrs.  Beale  and  Porter  seems  least  liable  to  ob- 
jection ;  and  that  of  Mr.  John  Hague,  (now  the  property  of  John  Innes> 
Esq.,)  for  expelling  molasses  from  sugar  by  an  atmospheric  pressure— 
has  been  partially  introduced  in  Grenada,  Demerara,  &c.  with  very  con- 
siderable advantage.  We  happen  to  have  seen  both  in  operation,  and 
consider  them,  although  perhaps  susceptible  of  further  improvement- 
well  worthy  the  attention  of  every  scientific  planter. 

The  author  has  collected  much  interesting  information  regarding  the 
culture  of  sugar  and  the  very  imperfect  mode  of  manufacturing  it  in 
India.  An  expedient  for  protecting  the  cane  during  high  winds  is  to  bind 
several  of  them  together  with  their  own  leaves  (p.  216).  One  part  of  the 
process  for  whitening  in  India  is  rather  repugnant  to  the  taste  of  the  peo- 
ple of  this  county — namely,  "  the  sugar  is  spread  on  a  piece  of  course 
canvass  in  the  sun,  where  it  is  trodden  by  people  with  their  naked  feet, 
till  all  the  lumps  are  broken,  and  the  grain  of  the  sugar  appears  white 
and  smooth,  which  will  in  a  great  measure  be  in  proportion  to  the  time 
and  labour  bestowed  upon  it."  (p.  226.) 

It  appears  from  the  most  authentic  statements  "  that  in  every  particu- 
lar connected  with  the  manufacture  of  sugar,  our  West  India  Colonists 
are  very  greatly  in  advance  of  the  agriculturists  of  the  East,  whose  pro- 
cesses are  at  once  less  productive  and  more  laborious  than  those  employed 
in  the  West  Indies : — disadvantages  which  can  only  be  met  by  the  com- 
parative cheapness  of  labour,  arising  out  of  the  stale  of  oppression  and 
abject  poverty  in  which  the  miserable  peasantry  of  India  are  kept." 

We  are  far  from  attributing  this  state  of  misery  to  the  Company's 
government.  We  believe  it  arises  entirely  out  of  the  inveterate  and 
unchangeable  superstitions  and  civil  institutions  of  the  country. 

The  culture  of  the  sugar-cane,  and  manufacture  of  sugar,  is  carried  ta 
a  considerable  extent  in  Java,  China,  and  various  eastern  countries.  The 
immense  increase,  of  late  years,  in  Mauritius,  owing  to  the  employment 
of  English  capital  and  improved  machinery,  is  a  proof  that  it  might  be 
produced  by  the  application  of  similar  means  in  the  eastern  world,  in  any 
requisite  quantity.  "  In  a  report  made  by  Major  Moody,  which  was 
printed  by  order  of  the  House  of  Commons  in  February,  1826,  there  is  a 
statement  of  the  comparative  number  of  days'  labour  required  in  dif- 
ferent countries,  for  the  production  of  equal  quantities  of  sugar,  viz. 

In  Guiana 206  days. 

Barbadoes 406 

Tortola 653 

Bengal  .  ...         1200" 

The  wages  paid  to  labourers  in  India  are  said  not  to  exceed  iwopence- 
halfpcnny  per  diem  ! 

"  On  the  art  of  refining  sugar,"  and  on  "  patents  for  improvements" 
in  that  art,  there  is  much  interestiug  information ;  but  our  limits  do  not 
permit  us  to  go  into  that  part  of  the  subject. 

The  distillation  of  rum  is  closely  allied  to  the  manufacture  of  sugar. 
In  the  work  before  us  the  utensils  and  process  are  fully  described,  and 


1830.]  The  Sugar  Cane.  93 

various  improvements  discussed  and  pointed  out.  Molasses,  scummings 
from  the  clarifiers  and  evaporating  coppers,  and  sometimes  even  raw 
cane  juice,  purposely  expressed,  are  the  matters  subjected  for  distilla- 
tion ;  these  must  be  diluted  with  water  ;  the  lees  or  feculencies  of 
former  distillations  are  likewise  added  to  supply  the  necessary  ferment 
or  yeast.  When  the  fermentation  has  proceeded  favourably,  it  will 
generally  be  completed  in  from  five  to  seven  days ;  the  liquor  is  then 
conveyed  to  the  still.  Cleanliness  is  as  necessary  in  this  process  as  in 
that  for  producing  good  sugar.  It  is  usual  to  obtain  about  one  hundred 
and  thirteen  gallons  of  proof  rum  from  twelve  hundred  gallons  of  wash. 
The  relative  proportion  which  the  rum,  produced  on  an  estate,  bears  to 
sugar,  varies  much  according  to  circumstances,  but  may  be  averaged  at 
about  200  gallons  of  rum  to  three  hogsheads  of  sugar,  each  16  cwt. 
Considerable  improvements  in  the  apparatus  used  for  distillation  have  of 
late  years  been  introduced,  with  the  view  of  obtaining  a  strong  spirit  at 
as  little  expense  of  fuel  and  labour  as  possible.  Of  two  stills  which 
have  been  generally  considered  great  improvements  in  this  way,  we 
prefer  that  of  Mr.  Corty  (or  Shears  and  Sons),  on  account  of  the  greater 
simplicity  of  its  construction.  The  other,  viz.  that  which  has  been 
patented  by  Mr.  Winter,  is,  perhaps,  capable  of  yielding  a  more  concen* 
trated  spirit,  but  we  fear  there  are  few  proprietors  who  have  servants 
sufficiently  careful  to  ensure  its  efficiency  during  successive  years. 

We  would  observe,  in  conclusion,  that  every  thing  tending  to  improve 
the  quality  of  the  produce  of  West  India  estates  and  supersede  manual 
labour,  is  yearly  becoming  of  greater  importance  to  the  planter.  The 
unequal  manner  in  which  the  very  high  duty  on  sugar  falls  upon  inferior 
kinds :  the  great  change  which  has,  since  the  abolition  of  the  slave  trade, 
taken  place  in  the  efficiency  of  the  labourers  on  West-India  estates,  and 
the  unequal  competition  which  he  is  now  obliged  to  sustain  with 
foreigners,  can  only  be  carried  on  by  superior  science,  capital,  and 
machinery. 

The  work  before  us  contains  such  valuable  scientific  and  practical 
information  on  these  subjects,  that  we  have  no  doubt  it  will  find  a 
place  in  the  library  of  every  planter  and  person  connected  with  our 
sugar  colonies. 

'  Jjrrsnr/t--  mim 

sd  !.- 

NOTES    OF    THE   MONTH    ON    AFFAIRS   IN    GENERAL. 
?JJW  >  m  ;»'pJW 

"  Pensions  to  Ministers,  Privy  Counsellors,  fyc. — Sir  J.  Graham  rose, 
pursuant  to  notice  of  motion,  to  move  for  an  '  Account  of  all  salaries, 
pay,  fees,  and  emoluments,  whether  civil  or  military,  from  the  5th  of 
January  1829,  to  the  5th  of  January  1830,  held  and  enjoyed  by  each  of 
the  members  of  his  Majesty's  most  honourable  Privy  Council,  specifying 
with  each  name  the  total  amount  received  by  each  individual,  and  dis- 
tinguishing the  various  services  from  which  the  same  is  derived."  In 
the  course  of  his  speech  Sir  James  Graham  said  that  the  total  number  of 
Privy  Counsellors  was  169;  of  whom  113  received  public  money. — 
(Hear,  hear.)  The  whole  sum  distributed  annually  amongst  these  113 
was  650, 164/.  and  the  average  proportion  of  that  sum  paid  to  each  yearly, 
was  5,752/— (Hear.)  Of  this  total  of  650J64/.  86,103/.  were  for  sine- 
cures (loud  cries  of  "  hear,  hear");  442,41 1/,  for  active  services,  and 
121,650/.  for  pensions,  making  together  the  total  which  he  had  stated. 


94  Notes  of  the  Month  [JULY, 

Of  the  113  Privy  Counsellors,  who  were  thus  receivers  of  the  public 
money,  30  were  pluralists,  or  persons  holding  more  offices  than  one, 
whether  as  sinecurists,  or  civil  and  military  officers.  The  amount  received 
by  the  pluralists  was  221, ]33/.  annually  amongst  them  all,  or  7>321/.  on 
an  average  to  each  annually.  (Hear.)  The  whole  number  of  Privy 
Counsellors  who  were  members  of  both  Houses  of  Parliament  was  69, 
and  of  those  17  were  Peers,  whose  gross  income  from  the  public  purse 
was  378,846  (hear,  hear),  or  upon  an  average  to  each,  8,065/.  a-year. 
(Loud  cries  of  ( '  hear.")  The  remaining  23  were  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, and  the  gross  amount  of  the  receipts  was  90,849/.  or,  upon  an 
average  to  each  individual,  4,130/.  a-year. — (Hear.)" 

Documents  like  this  account  for  all  the  phenomena  of  British  legisla- 
tion. Out  of  169  Privy  Counsellors,  who  of  course  comprehend  the  most 
influential  persons  connected  with  parliament  and  public  affairs,  113  are 
pensioned  by  the  public  money  ;  every  man  of  them  having  incomes 
besides,  and  the  pension  being  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  retaining 
fee  j  the  fifty-six  who  receive  nothing  (at  present),  being  for  the  most 
part  connected  with  Opposition,  and  only  waiting  the  opportunity  of  a 
change  to  lay  hold  on  similar  emoluments,  the  pensions  of  the  chosen 
amounting  to  more  than  half  a  million  of  pounds  sterling,  which  sup- 
plies those  pure,  independent,  and  high-principled  personages  with 
average  allowances  of  above  5000/.  a-year  each. 

No  wonder  then  that  men  should  like  to  push  themselves  into  the  way  of 
government ;  no  wonder  that  politics  should  be  a  regular  profession ;  no 
wonder  that  elections  should  be  contested ;  no  wonder  that  the  minister 
for  the  time  should  be  applauded  to  the  skies,  as  the  brightest,  best, 
wisest,  most  everything  that  ever  minister  was  or  will  be.  No  wonder 
that  great  politicians  dine  on  gold  plate,  and  keep  race-horses,  and  worse 
things  than  race-horses,  by  the  dozen  j  that  the  wives  of  great  politicians 
have  opera  boxes,  flourish  in  britchskas  and  barouches  round  the  town, 
and  fill  the  columns  of  the  Morning  Post  with  gazettes  of  the  parade  of 
ministers,  princes,  and  moustached  monsieurs  that  crowd  their  "  at 
homes." 

But  of  all  this  there  must  be  an  end.  The  nation  which  pays  for  this 
extravagance  has  a  right  to  inquire  for  what  services  it  is  lavished?  The 
investigation  must  come;  and  we  shall  rejoice  to  see  patriotism,  then  only 
worthy  of  the  name,  defying  the  clamour  of  the  whole  host  of  "  Gentle- 
men-pensioners," pauper  Lords,  and  Treasury  alms-seekers,  probing  the 
evil  to  the  bone,  and  curing  the  most  fatal  disease  of  the  country. 

"  The  Steam  Engine. — In  the  steam  engine  the  self-regulating  prin- 
ciple is  carried  to  an  astonishing  perfection.  The  machine  itself  raises 
in  a  due  quantity  the  cold  water  necessary  to  condense  the  steam.  It 
pumps  off  the  hot  water  produced  by  the  steam,  which  has  been  cooled, 
and  lodges  it  in  a  reservoir  for  the  supply  of  the  boiler.  It  carries  from 
this  reservoir  exactly  that  quantity  of  water  which  is  necessary  to  supply 
the  wants  of  the  boiler,  and  lodges  it  therein  according  as  it  is  required. 
It  breathes  the  boiler  of  redundant  steam,  and  preserves  that  which 
remains  fit,  both  in  quantity  and  quality,  for  the  use  of  the  engine.  It 
blows  its  own  fire,  maintaining  its  intensity,  and  increasing  or  diminish- 
ing it,  according  to  quantity  of  steam  which  it  is  necessary  to  raise ;  so 
that  when  much  work  is  expected  from  the  engine,  the  fire  is  propor- 
tionally brisk  and  vivid.  It  breaks  and  prepares  its  own  fuel,  and 


1830.]  on  Affairs  in  General  05 

scatters  it  upon  the  bars  at  proper  times  and  in  due  quantity.  It  opens 
and  closes  its  several  valves  at  the  proper  moments,  works  its  own 
pumps,  turns  its  own  wheels,  and  is  only  not  alive." 

All  this  is  true ;  and  yet,  as  if  in  shame  to  "  science,"  as  it  is  called, 
every  particle  of  all  these  curious  inventions  is  due  to  clowns.  Watt 
was  a  working  mechanic  in  Glasgow,  and  his  discovery  of  the  new 
condenser  was  mere  accident.  Every  subsequent  improver  has  been  like 
Watt,  a  mere  mechanic,  and  every  subsequent  discovery  a  mere  accident. 
It  would  be  a  pleasant  rebuke  to  University  pride,  of  all  prides  the  most 
self-sufficient,  to  enquire  how  many  discoveries  have  been  made  within 
the  walls  of  any  English  University  since  the  days  of  Friar  Bacon  ?  All 
has  been  the  work  of  the  clown,  "  the  lean,  unwashed  artificer,"  the 
mechanic  patching  the  crazy  machine,  and  thus  taught  its  strength  and 
weakness,  or  the  fire  feeder  trying  to  relieve  himself  of  a  part  of  his 
trouble.  All  has  been  the  work  of  mere  practice,  nothing  the  work  of 
theory ;  and  until  our  superb  wranglers,  and  high  capped  doctors  follow 
the  course  of  the  clown,  and.  take  the  machine  itself  into  their  hands, 
they  will  never  furnish  any  thing  more  practical  than  some  clumsy  trans- 
lation of  some  foreign  algebraist,  to  this  hour  the  grand  achievement  of 
the  philosophers  of  Cambridge,  some  tenth  transmission  of  Venturoli, 
or  La  Grange,  or  some  bungling  commentary  on  Euler. 

"  Newspapers  in  Paris  and  in  London. — The  total  number  per  diem 
of  the  daily  journals  printed  in  Paris  exceeds  60,000.  The  number  per 
diem  of  all  the  journals  printed  in  the  same  city  during  the  month  of 
April  amounted  to  91,982 !  The  Opposition  daily  prints  circulate 
32,929 ;  of  which  number  the  Constitutional  alone  sells  16,666 ;  the 
copies  of  royalist  journals  amount  to  27,866.  The  daily  press  of  London 
consists  of  twelve  journals,  six  morning  and  six  evening,  which  circulate 
altogether  about  25,000.  Paris  has  a  population  of  700,000 ;  London, 
of  1,500,000.  If  the  demand  for  newspapers  in  the  one  town  were  as 
great  as  in  the  other  (and  if  the  tax  were  a  penny  instead  of  a  groat> 
there  can  belittle  doubt  that  it  would  be  greater),  the  sake  per  diem  of  the 
London  daily  journals  would  not  be  short  of  125,000 ;  to  say  nothing  of 
the  hundreds  of  daily  papers  that  would  start  up  in  every  respectable 
town  in  England,  which  at  present  are  compelled  to  depend  for  their 
earliest  intelligence  on  a  journal  printed  at  one,  two,  or  three  hundred 
miles  distance." 

This  comparison  is  formidably  against  the  London  press  in  point  of 
figures.  But  it  is  a  fallacy  after  all ;  for  one  London  paper  ought  to  go 
for  half  a  dozen  French  ;  it  has,  in  fact,  a  measureless  superiority  in  in- 
formation, variety,  and  interest.  The  very  best  French  papers  are  a 
pitiable  compound  of  wearisome  essays  on  politics,  and  endless  extracts 
from  books  that  no  one  but  the  extractor  will  ever  open.  The  actual 
news  is  generally  confined  to  half  a  dozen  paragraphs,  purposely  mysti- 
fied in  all  the  government  papers,  and  as  purposely  mystified  in  all  the 
opposition.  What  human  being  can  read  the  Moniteur  through?  or  what 
human  being  ever  ploughs  through  the  dreary  diatribes  of  the  Constitu- 
tionnel ?  The  question  of  expense,  too,  ought  to  be  taken  into  considera- 
tion. The  expense  of  a  single  daily  paper  in  London  would  pay  for  half 
the  journals  in  Paips,  editors,  annuitants,  pensioned  ministerial  secre- 
taries and  all. 

Nor  do  we  feel  more  inclined  to  be  of  our  contemporary's  opinion,  on 


9(5  'Note*  of  the  Month  £Juz,i% 

the  advantage  of  having  three  or  four  newspapers  to  the  present  one  in 
our  country  towns.  Too  great  facility  in  setting  up  newspapers  is  as 
great  a  nuisance  as  a  neighbourhood  can  conceive.  In  America  there  is 
that  facility.  Every  fellow  who  can  command  the  price  of  a  printing 
machine  sets  up  a  newspaper ;  and  as  his  object  is  to  make  money,  money 
is  hunted  after  by  every  insolence  and  art  of  low-cunning  and  privileged 
dexterity.  Libel,  as  being  the  boldest  display,  and  scandal,  as  being  the 
most  poignant,  are  always  the  first  distinctions  of  the  rising  paper  ;  and 
by  this  system,  private  character  is  perpetually  on  the  rack. 

We  hate  monopoly  and  taxes  as  much  as  the  freest  Yankee  that  ever 
squatted  in  the  Illinois,  and  defied  the  armies  of  the  earth  to  lay  hold  on 
his  naked  hide.  But  we  are  fully  satisfied  that  excessive  ease  in  excori- 
ating our  neighbour's  character,  or  the  magnificent  privilege  of  libelling 
religion,  law,  and  government,  are  not  to  be  reckoned  among  the  advan- 
tages of  society ;  and  so  far  we  have  no  objection  to  see  the  Press  retained 
in  hands  that,  if  not  altogether  perfect,  are  yet  not  completely  trained  to 
dip  for  lucre  into  offence  and  insult  to  every  name,  honest  or  honourable 
in  the  empire." 

"  New  Power  of  the  Moral  Licenser — It  is  said  that  a  bill  is  to  be 
brought  into  Parliament  by  Lord  Ellenborough,  enacting  that  in  future 
the  length  of  the  petticoats  worn  by  the  Italian  Opera- dancers,  is  to  be 
sent  to  George  Colman,  previously  to  his  licensing  any  ballet  at  the 
King's  Theatre." 

George  Colman  may  be  fairly  laughed  at  on  this  occasion,  or  on  any 
other.  He  has  made  too  many  people  laugh,  in  another  place,  as  the 
parliamentary  orators  say,  to  object  to  the  broadest  visitation  of  ridicule. 
Lord  Ellenborough  is  pretty  much  in  the  same  condition,  and  notwith- 
standing his  official  five  thousand  pounds  a  year,  his  carmine  and  his 
curls,  he  is  a  very  laughable  personage.  But,  for  all  that,  the  Opera 
costumes  might,  not  indecorously,  undergo  some  regulation.  If  complete 
exposure  of  the  figure  in  flesh-coloured  silk  be  meritorious,  the  Opera 
ladies  have  all  the  merit  of  the  most  utter  absence  of  disguise.  Yet 
George  Colman  must,  we  fear,  content  himself  with  nibbling  at  love 
speeches,  and  "  angelic"  interjections  in  melodrames,  at  least  until 
his  powers  as  licenser  are  enlarged,  and  the  morals  of  the  opera  cou- 
lisses can  be  entrusted  to  the  writer,  who  has,  for  the  last  forty  years, 
done  such  wonders  for  the  morals  of  the  Green  Room. 


"  Steam  Boats. — In  1814,  the  United  Kingdom  boasted  1 1  steam-boats, 
averaging  50  tons  each,  and  manned  by  65  men.  In  1829,  the  port  of 
London  alone  had  167,  averaging  100  tons  each  ;  and  the  whole  number 
in  England  amounted  to  342;  the  tonnage  to  31,108 ;  and  the  crews  to 
2,745. 

"  The  number  of  steam-boats  in  France  is  thirty-five.  The  first  boat 
possessed  by  the  French  (in  1819)  was  an  old  vessel  named  the  Rob 
Roy,  that  used  to  ply  in  the  Firth  of  Forth.  It  has  been  rebaptized 
the  "  Henri  Quatre,"  and  is  employed  at  present  as  mail-boat  between 
Calais  and  Dover.  Five  of  the  French  boats  are  not  yet  launched — 
they  are  intended  for  the  service  of  the  expedition  to  Africa.  The 
Russians  have  two  steam  boats.  There  are  six  on  the  Rhine.  One 
plies  between  Seville,  Cadiz,  Gibraltar,  and  Carthagena :  it  formerly 
belonged  to  Sir  J.  M.  Doyle.  There  are  two  at  Calcutta — the  Enter- 


1830.]  on  "Affairs  in  GcntrAl.  97 

prize  and  a  country-built  vessel.    In  1812,  the  Americans  had  170,  mostly 
small ;  in  1829  the  number  was  320,  nearly  all  of  them  large  vessels." 

In  this  enumeration,  we  must  observe  that  almost  the  whole  of  the 
English  external  commerce  is  still  carried  on  by  sailing  vessels,  while 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  internal  is  on  canals,  in  which  steam- vessels  are 
not  used.  The  American  internal  commerce  is,  almost  without  ex- 
ception, carried  on  by  steam.  In  fact  the  English  steamer  is  little  more 
than  a  passage  boat,  or  substitute  for  the  stage  coach,  which,  however, 
it  has  scarcely  in  any  instance  put  down.  Yet  the  number  of  the  English 
steam-boats  is  greater  than  that  of  the  American.  So  much  for  the  luxury 
of  England. 

The  contrast  with  France  is  still  more  striking.  The  Rhone,  the  Ga- 
ronne, the  Seine,  and  the  Loire,  all  navigable  to  a  great  distance  from  the 
sea,  and  traversing  the  finest  part  of  France,  have  on  them  all  scarcely 
more  steam-boats  than  belong  to  the  port  of  Glasgow.  The  enormous 
expense  of  building  the  British  steam-boats  is  also  to  be  remembered.  A 
Thames  steam-boat  costs  from  fifteen  to  twenty  thousand  pounds,  and  pro- 
bably the  value  of  the  whole  is  not  much  less  than  a  million  and  half. 
But  the  most  attractive  purpose  of  the  system  is  now  the  shortening  oi 
the  East  India  voyage.  If  any  man  had  ventured  to  say  twenty  years 
ago  that  letters  from  Bombay  would  be  delivered  in  London  within  six 
weeks,  he  would  be  laughed  at  as  a  visionary.  Yet  this  has  been  nearly 
done  within  these  few  days,  and  the  calculation  now  is  that  it  may  be 
effected  in  little  more  than  a  month ;  in  other  words,  that  Bombay  may 
be  brought  as  near  London  as  Rome,  for  the  practical  effect  of  in- 
creasing the  spead  is  to  shorten  the  distance.  If  the  railway  system 
shall  spread  through  England,  Edinburgh  will  be  brought  within  a 
twelve  hours  drive,  or  be  as  near  as  Bath  is  now,  and  Bath  be  scarcely 
further  than  Richmond.  The  advantages  of  this  accessibility,  for  trade 
and  intercourse  of  all  kinds  would  be  beyond  all  calculation,  and  would 
almost  entirely  change  the  face  of  society.  If  the  railway  were  to  be  also 
adopted  on  the  continent,  the  furthest  point  of  Europe  would  be  at  a 
trivial  distance ;  yet  even  the  railway  may  be  exceeded.  We  do  not 
despair  of  seeing  the  steam  engine  applied  to  ballooning.  It  requires 
only  to  be  made  on  a  lighter  and  more  compact  principle,  and  to  require 
less  fuel  than  at  present,  to  be  made  the  directing  and  moving  power  of 
the  balloon.  Then  difficulty  and  distance  would  vanish,  mountain  and 
sea,  climate  and  cloud  would  be  no  barrier.  The  intercourse  of  nations 
might  be  carried  on  at  a  height  above  mountain  and  storm,  and  the  world 
would  for  the  first  time  since  the  patriarchal  age  be  one  great  family,  one 
brotherhood,  rejoicing  in  the  interchange  of  all  the  bounties  of  earth 
and  heaven. 

"  Boxing. — The  fight  between  Perkins,  the  Oxford  Pet,  and  Alic 
Reid,  for  100Z.  a-side,  took  place  on  Tuesday,  near  Chipping  Norton. 
On  Saturday  the  London  coaches  brought  into  Oxford  a  large  number 
of  the  Fancy,  including  Dutch  Sam,  Dick  Curtis  (seconds  for  Reid),  Jem 
Ward,  Harry  Jones  the  Sailor  Boy  (seconds  for  Perkins),  Ned  Neale, 
Tom  Gaynor,  Stockman,  Oliver,  Sampson,  and  others.  Betting  7  to  4 
on  Reid.  The  fight  lasted  an  hour  and  nine  minutes,  during  which  34 
rounds  were  fought.  Reid  won.  Both  the  men  were  severely  punished." 

Such  is  the  detail  of  one  of  those  collections  of  every  vice  and  atrocity 
of  London,  that  take  place  perpetually  in  the  presence  of  a  whole  host  of 

M.  M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X,  No.  55.  N 


«&•  Xotes  of  the  Month  [JULY; 

overpaid  magistrates  and  constables.  We  should  wish  to  know  what 
the  Oxford  authorities  were  doing,  when  those  coaches  of  "  gentlemen 
of  the  fancy"  were  pouring  in  among  them.  As  to  boxing-matches, 
every  one  knows  them  to  be  nothing  more  than  the  contrivances  of  low 
ruffianism  to  raise  money  on  the  public — a  combination  of  pickpockets, 
swindlers,  and  keepers  of  gin-shops.  Three-fourths  of  the  fellows  who 
regularly  attend  those  exhibitions,  are  known  to  the  police  as  common 
thieves ;  and  if  we  are  to  estimate  the  profession  by  the  practice,  their 
patrons  are  little  better.  The  pretext  that  boxing-matches  keep  up  the 
courage  of  the  people,  or  prevent  assassination,  has  been  long  exploded. 
The  bravest  nations  of  the  ancient  world  would  have  considered  a  free- 
man disgraced  by  a  practice  which  they  suffered  only  among  criminals 
and  slaves  ;  for  the  game  of  the  Csestus,  or  the  pancratiast,  among  the 
Greeks,  was  a  general  display  of  strength  and  dexterity,  and  even  this 
was  not  in  repute ;  the  Roman  boxer  was  generally  taken  from  the 
jail,  to  which  place  we  think  that  the  English  boxer  and  his  patrons 
should  in  all  cases  be  consigned.  Some  murders  have  been  lately  com- 
mitted at  those  scenes  of  brutality;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  neither 
rank  nor  money  will  be  suffered  to  screen  the  delinquents/ one  and  all. 

"  Mr.  Croker,  the  Secretary  to  the  Admiralty,  one  of  the  Stewards  of 
Hampton  races,  and  who  occupies  a  cottage  at  Moulsey,  which,  for  the 
comfort  and  accommodation  of  his  friends,  he  has  recently  enlarged,  kept 
a  sort  of  open  house  during  the  past  week.  The  right  hon.  gentleman's 
dinners  were  most  luxuriant ;  turtle,  venison,  and  choice  wines  in  abun- 
dance. The  company  consisted  of  many  noble  lords,  and  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  wits  of  the  day,  who  on  the  occasion  was  too  happy  to  sing 
"  Dear  Ally  Croker/  " 

When  the  unlucky  Marquis  of  Worcester  took  upon  his  hussar  shoul- 
ders the  office  of  Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  the  caricaturists  immortalized 
him  as  the  Horse-marine ;  and  the  noble  marquis  was  so  much  affected 
by  the  resemblance,  that  he  instantly  vacated  the  office,  changed  the 
Board  for  the  stable,  and  dismounting  his  dolphin,  remounted  his  charger. 
However,  we  hope  a  secretary  of  the  Admiralty,  commanding  in  chief  at 
a  horse-race,  is  less  amenable  to  the  Cruickshanks  of  this  world,  and  that 
he  may  escape  with  no  further  detriment  than  the  conversation  of  the 
noble  lords  whom,  as  the  paragraph  says,  he  is  treating  so  luxuriantly. 
The  name  of  the  wit  who  is  recorded  as  singing  the  well  known  English 
ballad,  is  whispered  about.  But,  to  prevent  trespass  on  the  manors 
of  original  genius,  we  must  say,  that  it  is  neither  KeppeL,  LuttreL,  nor 
Horace  Twiss. 


"  It  is  said  that,  in  the  event  of  Mr.  Whitbread's  retiring  from  the  re- 
presentation of  Middlesex,  there  is  some  intention  of  starting  Mr.  Hume 
as  a  candidate." 

We  do  not  believe  a  word  of  this.  The  Greek  loan  affair  has  let  the 
world  so  much  into  the  secret  of  Mr.  Hume's  financial  feelings,  that  the 
Middlesex  people  will  not  give  him  a  smile.  The  gleaning  of  his  fifty- 
four  pounds  three  shillings  threepence  three  farthings,  has  settled  him 
for  life  as  a  metropolitan  candidate.  He  may  flourish  in  some  rocky  out- 
let of  creation  in  the  Highlands,  where  men  eat  oats,  and  know  nothing 
of  loans :  but  in  Middlesex,  they  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  costive 
purse,  notwithstanding  the  most  generous  effusion  of  promises  that  ever 


1830.]  OH.  Affairs  in  General.  99 

flowed  from  the  lips  of  candidate  patriotism.     Hume,  as  a  politician,  is 
an  absurdity. 

"  Philharmonic  Society. — Their  eighth  and  last  concert  was  a  good 
one,  and  went  far  to  redeem  this  series  from  the  inferiority  which 
has  pervaded,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  the  performances  this  season. 
It  opened  with  Beethoven's  splendid  sinfonia,  No.  7>  and  concluded  with 
his  overture  to  Coriolon,  a  very  fine  composition.  Malibran,  Donzelli, 
and  Lablache  sang,  but  nothing  very  new.  De  Beriot  gave  a  concerto 
on  the  violin.  As  far  as  execution  is  concerned,  this  gentleman  is  un- 
rivalled. He  also  plays  with  consummate  taste  and  expression.  Spag- 
noletti  led,  and  Bishop  conducted." 

Notwithstanding  all  this  panegyric,  the  philharmonic  is  going  to  the 
vault  of  all  the  capulets.  "  Sinfonias"  have  been  its  death.  The 
shortest  Sinfonia  of  Beethoven  is  an  hour  long,  and  half  an  hour  of  such 
trial  to  the  ears  is  enough  to  occasion  death  to  any  human  being,  who 
does  not  take  refuge  in  sleep,  which  is  a  serious  difficulty,  as  the  Sin- 
fonia is  generally  as  loud  as  it  is  long.  Beethoven's  fame  is  rapidly 
perishing  in  this  country.  Professional  musicians  are  zealous  for  his 
compositions,  because  they  completely  answer  the  purposes  for  which 
alone  nine-tenths  of  professional  musicians  are  fit ;  they  are  difficult,  and, 
of  course,  require  manual  dexterity,  but  there  the  merit  ends.  The 
composition  is  a  chaos;  through  the  mortal  hour  the  keenest  ear  can 
scarcely  detect  a  touch  of  melody,  all  the  finer  part  of  composition,  the 
soul  of  the  art,  is  buried  under  an  endless  toil  of  tiresome  science,  and 
the  only  perception  of  pleasure  that  ever  reaches  an  audience,  is  when 
every  fiddler  is  resting  upon  his  fiddle,  and  the  whole  Gothic  confusion 
is  at  an  end. 

The  praise  lavished  on  De  Beriot,  too,  is  absurd.  He  is  a  neat  per- 
former, and  no  more.  He  has  not  discovered,  nor  will  he  ever  discover, 
the  power  of  the  violin ;  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  instruments  in 
the  whole  range  of  human  invention.  In  the  hands  of  genius,  the 
violin  is  scarcely  less  than  a  prodigy.  It  was  such  in  the  hands  of 
Giardini,  of  whom  our  fathers  still  speak  with  wonder ;  it  was  scarcely 
less  so  in  the  hands  of  Jarnovick :  it  is  said  to  attain  the  same  rank  in  the 
hands  of  Paganini.  But  De  Beriot,  though  possessing  the  most  accu- 
rate skill  in  the  mere  manipulation  of  the  instrument,  wants  the  genius 
of  the  violinist.  He  amuses  and  pleases ;  he  never  delights  nor  asto- 
nishes, and  for  the  wonders  of  the  art,  we  must  wait  for  Paganini.  As 
to  Spagnoletti,  he  is  a  fiddler,  and,  we  suppose,  does  well  enough  to 
accompany  a  song. 

"  We  stated  on  a  former  occasion,  that  Sir  Matthew  Tierney  had  not 
been  consulted  by  the  King  during  a  period  of  twelve  days.  This  intel- 
ligence excited  the  utmost  astonishment.  We  now  positively  assert, 
upon  the  best  authority,  that  Sir  Matthew  signed  the  bulletins  during 
a  period  of  at  least  seventeen  days,  without  having  been  consulted  by 
the  Royal  sufferer.  It  is,  indeed,  asserted  that  the  presence  of  the 
worthy  knight  appeared  to  produce  so  much  irritation  and  distress  in 
the  bosom  of  his  Majesty,  that  it  was  thought  prudent  to  request  him 
to  withdraw,  and  he  thus  signed  the  bulletins  without  examining  the 
subject  of  them,  trusting  to  chance  and  '  invisible'  influence  for  their 
accuracy.  The  three  '  Sirs'  are  said  to  have  acted  towards  each  other 

N'2 


100  Notes  ffthe  Month  [JULY, 

with  great  delicacy  and  kindness  on  this  momentous  and  perilous  occa- 
sion. Various  reasons  have  been  alleged  for  his  Majesty's  displeasure, 
but  the  report  of  its  having  been  caused  by  the  flippancy  of  tongue 
often  noticed  in  a  certain  lady,  is  not  true." 

So  says  the  "  Lancet,"  and  its  saying  has  gone  the  round  of  the  news- 
papers. We  acknowledge  that  we  must  believe  it  to  have  been  misin- 
formed. Yet  if  the  news  be  true  we  cannot  understand  how  the  matter 
should  escape  investigation.  It  would  leave  the  country  dependant  on 
the  opinion  of  a  single  physician  for  the  most  important  interests  that 
Could  affect  it — the  health  of  its  king.  We  of  course  have  no  idea  that  if 
any  one  man  were  to  be  confided  in  on  such  occasions,  Sir  Henry  Hal- 
ford  would  not  deserve  as  full  confidence  as  any  of  his  compeers.  But 
still  we  have  no  right  to  run  risks,  and  the  possibility  of  a  dangerous 
precedent  ought  to  be  avoided  as  much  as  its  reality.  The  King's  whole 
illness  had  undoubtedly  been  a  curious  example  of  the  dexterity  of 
court  language.  The  bulletins  were  mere  variations  of  the  same  language, 
day  by  day.  To  this  moment  nobody  outside  the  palace  or  the  cabinet 
knows  the  exact  nature  of  the  royal  illness,  for  the  bulletins  and  the  private 
accounts  were  in  perpetual  contradiction.  The  physicians  say  one  thing, 
the  ministers  another,  the  attendants  whisper  another ;  the  newspapers 
combining  the  stories  of  all  make  another  addition  to  the  public  per- 
plexity. In  the  mean  time,  the  only  fact  that  transpired  amidst  this 
confusion  and  racing  of  couriers  between  Downing  Street  and  Windsor, 
is  that  the  King  did  not  get  better.  And  on  this  wre  had  a  pure  prac- 
tical comment  in  the  courtly  baseness  of  some  of  our  fashionable  names. 
These  people  were  already  dropping  their  cards  at  Bushy  Park  in  pro- 
fusion ;  discovering  that  the  Clarence  portion  of  man  and  womankind 
are  every  thing  that  is  kingly,  queenly,  and  so  forth,  and  already  com- 
mencing that  system  of  contemptible  and  shameless  prostration  to  the 
heir  apparent,  which  on  the  same  terms  they  would  offer  to  Beelzebub. 

"  The  Swiss  Cantons,  according  to  the  last  census,  contain  a  popula- 
tion of  very  nearly  2,000,000.  The  federal  military  contingent  consists  of 
33,758  men,  with  a  reserve  of  double  that  amount,  and  the  armed  land- 
weyr  consist  of  140,000;  forming  a  total  of  207,618  men,  exclusive  of 
the  federal  staff.  The  Swiss  troops  in  the  service  of  foreign  powers,  but 
subject  to  be  recalled  should  their  country  be  engaged  in  war,  amount 
to  18,136  men.  It  is  observed  by  a  French  Journalist,  that  if  France 
could  adopt  the  military  organization  of  Switzerland,  she  might  have, 
at  an  expense  not  exceeding  30,000,000  francs,  a  disposable  force  of  more 
than  500,000  men,  and  a  reserve  of  the  same  amount,  and  a  national 
guard  army  of  2,200,000  men." 

All  our  romancers  lavish  all  their  eloquence  on  the  Swiss.  Simplicity, 
modesty,  independence,  and  pastoral  scorn  of  the  gross  pursuits  of 
worldly  gain,  an  Alpine  Arcadia,  make  up  but  a  water- coloured  portrai- 
ture of  the  blissful  population  of  the  land  of  Tell.  Yet  in  all  ages  the 
Swiss  have  been  notorious  for  their  passion  for  lucre.  In  all  ages  they  have 
been  the  disturbers  of  the  neighbouring  countries,  and  in  all  ages  have 
been  guilty  of  the  enormous  baseness  and  crime  of  hiring  out  their 
soldiery  to  execute  the  rapine  and  murders  of  foreign  nations.  For 
shedding  the  blood  of  a  fellow  creature  there  can  be  but  one  excuse — 
self-defence.  The  Swiss,  defending  his  own  country,  is  a  patriot,  but 
fighting  the  battles  of  France,  or  any  other  stranger,  for  his  pay,  is  a  mur- 


1830.]  on  Affairs  in  General.  101 

derer.  The  old  apology  of  the  cantons  is  superfluity  of  population,  and 
the  desire  to  provide  for  their  people.  But  no  ground  can  be  valid  fo* 
sending  out  yearly  multitudes  to  commit  slaughter  for  money,  on  men 
against  whom  they  can  have  no  possible  cause  of  quarrel.  In  the  various 
foreign  services  the  Swiss  are  generally  employed  in  guarding  fortresses, 
or  the  persons  of  the  government,  but  they  are  liable  to  be  ordered  into 
the  field,  and  actually  do  take  the  field  on  the  order  of  the  government 
which  pays  them  ;  one  only  stipulation  being  made,  that  they  are  not  to 
be  opposed  to  their  own  countrym'en  in  the  various  services.  A  stipula- 
tion, however,  which  has  been  often  broken  in  the  exigencies  of  the  field, 
and  sometimes  voluntarily  by  the  Swiss  themselves,  who  have  opposed 
each  other,  regiment  by  regiment,  and  perished  by  mutual  slaughter.  It 
is  remarkable  that  the  Swiss  have  been  the  only  nation  who  have  habitually 
hired  out  their  troops  ;  the  German  principalities,  in  the  few  instances 
in  which  they  attempted  it,  having  been  in  general  shamed  out  of  so 
atrocious  a  practice  by  the  outcry  of  Europe.  But  the  Swiss  still  perse- 
vere, and  with  all  their  pretended  virtues,  are  the  only  mercenary 
butchers  of  Europe. 

"  Mr.  Wood  and  Miss  Paton  are  announced  to  perform  together  at 
the  Dublin  Theatre.  It  was  hinted,  we  understand,  to  the  gentleman, 
that  in  the  modest  capital  of  the  Sister  Kingdom  it  would  be  necessary 
to  be  very  circumspect,  as  if  the  Irish  moralists  find  that  in  their  case 
plurality  of  lodgings  may  be  dispensed  with,  not  even  hisses  will  suffice 
for  the  expression  of  their  virtuous  indignation ;  crim.  con.  being  con- 
sidered, as  Mr.  C.  Phillips  expresses  it,  '  an  imported  vice.' " 

We  see  no  possible  reason  why  the  virtuous  pair  should  not  be  met 
by  the  strongest  national  scorn.  Knowing  nothing,  and  condescending 
to  know  nothing  of  such  people  but  through  the  public  prints,  we 
hold  it  to  be  a  stigma  upon  public  decency  that  their  "  imported  vice" 
should  be  tolerated  in  their  instance,  unquestionably  one  of  the  most 
daring  and  rankest  that  has  ever  come  before  the  public. 

As  to  the  affectation  that  the  public  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  con- 
duct of  actors  and  actresses,  the  whole  affair  is  nonsense.  How  can  the 
public  help  knowing  their  licentiousness?  And  how  can  they  help 
forming  an  opinion  upon  it  ?  They  see  before  them  a  wretched  creature 
whom  every  newspaper  in  the  country  declares  to  have  committed, 
within  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  some  vileness  that  would  drive  any 
other  woman  out  of  all  society  to  the  last  day  she  had  to  live.  They 
see  this  miserable  culprit  brazening  out  the  public  scorn,  exulting  in 
her  crime,  and  defying  the  natural  disgust  and  abhorrence  which  every 
one  must  feel  at  voluntary  profligacy.  And  how  is  it  possible  that  an 
opinion  must  not  be  formed  by  the  audience  within  a  threatre,  as  well 
as  by  the  same  individuals  under  every  other  roof? 

We  are  called  on  largely  to  pay  public  respect  to  an  actress  of  cha- 
racter, and  public  respect  is  unquestionably  at  all  times  paid  to  cha- 
racter on  the  stage.  But  if  we  are  to  exercise  judgment  in  the  one  in- 
stance, we  have  an  equal  right  in  the  other.  And  what  has  been  the  re- 
sult ?  While  Siddons  remained  upon  the  stage,  it  was  the  public  custom 
to  exact  propriety  of  manners  from  the  players,  and  the  natural  con- 
sequence followed ;  they  were  singularly  well  conducted,  the  few  in- 
stances in  which  ill  conduct  evinced  itself,  were  instantly  marked  by  the 
public,  and  the  degraded  actress  served  as  a  warning  to  her  profession 
by  her  loss  of  patronage.  But  of  late  years  a  new  system  has  been 


102  Notes  of  the  Month  [JULY, 

adopted ;  the  cry  is  that  the  audience  have  no  question  to  consider  but 
the  theatrical  ability  of  the  performer ;  and  the  consequence  is,  that  in 
the  memory  of  the  stage  the  life  of  actresses  has  never  been  so  openly 
vicious.  At  this  moment  almost  the  entire  number  of  the  principal 
actresses  are  public  scandals.  Of  the  foreign  actresses  and  opera  people 
we  say  no  more,  than  that  the  system  of  making  no  inquiry  as  to  the 
moral  conduct  of  performers,  has  produced  its  full  effects,  there,  the  whole 
number  of  them  being  perfectly  understood  to  have  no  scruple  of  any 
kind.  In  England  it  had  been  otherwise.  But  now  we  have  a  set  of 
people  puffed  and  panegyrized  as  delicate,  delightful,  divine,  and  so 
forth,  for  whom  six  months'  bread  and  water  and  the  treadmill  in  the 
House  of  Correction,  would  be  the  true  regimen  and  the  fitting  reward. 

"  The  votaries  of  Port  wine  will  be  alarmed  at  hearing  that  the  trade 
which  has  so  long  subsisted  between  this  country  and  Portugal  is  seri- 
ously called  in  question,  It,  however,  seems  very  clear  that  the  Methuen 
treaty,  as  it  has  now  for  many  years  been  acted  upon,  is  any  thing  but 
beneficial  to  England.  An  overgrown  company  governs  the  wine  trade, 
and  a  monopoly,  odious  in  itself,  and  fatal  alike  to  the  interests  of  im- 
porters and  consumers,  is  said  to  have  long  exercised  its  baneful 
influence." 

We  differ  from  our  contemporary.  The  votaries  of  Port  wine  can 
feel  no  alarm  on  the  subject,  though  the  votaries  of  sloe  juice  at  the  price 
of  Port  wine,  may.  Mr.  Villars's  speech  told  the  House  of  Commons 
only  what  every  man  who  had  inquired  into  the  subject  knew  already, 
that  an  immense  quantity  of  "  Port  wine"  was  no  more  grown  in 
Portugal  than  Madeira  is  grown  in  Middlesex.  The  whole  trade  is  a 
process  of  fabrication.  The  Oporto  Company  being  monopolists,  and 
of  course  taking  the  advantages  that  all  monopolists  take,  in  the  first 
place  sell  their  good  wine  at  ten  times  its  value,  and  in  the  next  mix 
their  good  wine  with  their  bad,  whicli  they  thus  sell  at  fifty  times  its 
value.  But  the  process  does  not  end  there.  This  medicated  wine  is 
again  mixed  and  medicated  in  Guernsey,  and  every  where  that  it  is  ware- 
housed before  it  comes  to  the  table  of  the  English  consumer,  a  mixture  of 
Portuguese  brandy,  British  sloe  juice,  and  American  dye  stuffs.  Such 
is  the  history  developed  by  Accum,  and  now  more  fully  opened  by 
Mr.  Villars.  And  for  this  we  pay  six  times  the  price  that  the  best 
claret  wrould  cost,  if  the  foolish  Methuen  treaty  were  abandoned,  and 
the  Portuguese  wine  makers  were  left  to  make  their  market  on  fail- 
terms. 

We  should  not  have  a  drop  of  Port  wine  the  less,  if  we  wished  for  it. 
The  only  difference  being,  that  we  should  have  it  six  times  as  cheap  and 
infinitely  better.  The  Portuguese  nation,  too,  would  be  better  pleased 
by  the  abolition  of  the  monopoly,  for  the  wine  market  is  now  restricted 
to  a  certain  district  and  a  small  corporation  ;  it  would  then  be  thrown 
open  to  the  country.  But  the  true  question  is  with  ourselves.  Is  it 
consistent  with  common  sense  or  rational  economy  to  pay  six  times  as 
much  for  a  bad  material  as  for  a  good,  for  the  heady  and  unhealthful 
wines  of  Portugal,  as  for  the  fine  vintage  of  France  ?  The  old  notion 
of  reciprocity  is  narrow  and  childish.  Our  statesmen  tell  us  that  the 
duties  must  lie  on  French  wines  until  the  French  take  our  manufactures 
in  return.  But  what  treaty  will  bind  nations  unless  their  interests  coin- 
cide ?  We  want  the  wines  of  France.  France  does  not  want  our 
woollens  or  our  cutlery  or  our  smoke-jacks.  Why  then  should  she  be 


1830.]  on  Ajj'airs  in  General.  103 

compelled  to  take  them,,  or,  if  she  did  promise  to  take  them  to-day,  can 
we  doubt  that  if  she  found  their  taking  injurious,,  she  would  find  means 
to  make  it  practically  null  and  void  to-morrow  ?  It  is  no  question  of 
rival  manufactures,  for  we  have  no  wine  manufacture ;  and  if  all  the 
wines  of  France  were  poured  into  England,  the  only  result  would  be 
that  we  should  have  excellent  wine  cheap,  and  that  our  lowest  popula- 
tion would  enjoy  a  luxury  now  restricted  to  the  superior  classes.  It 
would  not  shut  up  a  single  workshop,  nor  cause  a  single  pair  of  scissars 
the  less  to  be  made.  On  the  contrary,  it  would  probably  cause  a  great 
many  more  workshops  to  be  opened,  and  a  great  many  more  pairs  of 
scissars  to  be  made  ;  for  every  means  of  rational  and  natural  enjoyment 
brought  within  the  reach  of  the  labouring  classes,  naturally  stimulates 
their  exertions  to  possess  it.  On  France,  the  first  effect  would  clearly 
be,  to  conciliate  the  commercial  interest,  now  the  most  powerful  interest 
of  France,  to  this  country.  Merchants  seldom  volunteer  a  quarrel  with 
their  best  customers,  and  the  grand  staple  of  France  is  the  vine.  Wealth 
flowing  into  the  hands  of  the  French  merchant  would  also  produce  its 
effects  in  the  purchase  of  foreign  produce,  and  the  direct  result  would 
be  a  demand  for  those  articles  of  luxury  and  use  which  can  be  furnished 
by  no  country  but  England. 

The  common  arguments  for  the  Methuen  Treaty  are  now  grown 
childish.  Portugal  will  not  throw  herself  into  the  arms  of  Spain  an 
hour  the  sooner  or  later  because  we  pay  dear  for  bad  wines.  Portugal 
hates  Spain,  and  will  hate  her  though  we  were  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
The  friendship  of  Portugal  is  worth  nothing  to  us.  The  friendship  of 
France  is  of  the  highest  importance;  and  when  the  former,  too,  cannot 
be  had  but  by  a  heavy  tax,  and  the  latter  costs  nothing,  but  is  joined 
with  our  indulgence  in  one  of  the  finest  luxuries  of  nature,  the  man 
or  the  politician  who  would  pause  on  the  subject  must  be  a  simpleton, 
even  though  he  were  the  president  of — the  Board  of  Trade. 

(C  Five  or  six  thousand  pounds,  in  addition  to  the  amount  already  sub- 
scribed, is  now  wanted  to  carry  into  effect  the  new  street  from  Waterloo 
Bridge  across  the  old  site  on  which  Mr.  Arnold's  theatre  originally  stood, 
and  thence  to  Gower-street,  Bedford- square,  where  the  communication 
with  the  high  north  road  is  already  effected.  Surely,  this  plan  of  such 
admirable  utility  will  not  be  permitted  to  fall  to  the  ground  for  the  want 
of  so  paltry  a  sum.  Is  the  government  asleep  ?" 

"  The  strain  at  a  gnat  and  swallow  a  camel"  system  is  curiously 
exemplified  in  this  business.  The  Pimlico  palace,  a  monster  of  architec- 
ture and  extravagant  expenditure,  has  already  cost  nearly  a  million,  and 
will  cost  half  as  much  more  before  either  King  or  Regent  will  ever 
drink  a  cup  of  coffee  within  its  walls.  Here  a  few  thousand  pounds 
would  effect  a  most  desirable  public  object,  but  no  money  is  forth- 
coming. 

By  driving  a  street  through  the  Seven  Dials  and  the  whole  district  north 
of  the  Strand,  a  mass  of  moral  evil  as  well  as  physical  would  be  broken 
up  ;  a  great  addition  made  to  the  comforts  of  the  metropolis,  and  no 
trivial  one  made  to  its  beauty.  Yet  Government  shrinks  from  the  attempt. 
The  Waterloo  Bridge  people  have  already  suffered  too  much  for  further 
experiments.  Arnold's  Theatre  cannot  wait  for  the  slumbering  wisdom 
of  our  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  Seniors  of  the  Treasury  ;  and  the 
possibility  of  securing  this  admirable  line  of  communication  between  the 
North  and  South  of  TLondon  will  in  a  week  or  two  be  at  an  end. 


104  Notes  of  the  Month,  $c.  [JuLT, 

Mad  Dog-alarm. — "  Mr.  Editor, — It  was  only  last  Sunday  I  was  tak- 
ing a  walk,  accompanied  by  my  pointer,  who  was  going  an  innocent  trot 
before  me,  when  a  ladies'  school  broke  rank  and  file,  and  ran  across  the 
road  :  my  Juno,  unaccustomed  to  revolt,  seconded  the  movement  by  fol- 
lowing them,  which  caused  a  complete  consternation  and  rout ;  and  which 
wras  not  appeased  till  I  got  up  to  and  assured  them  that  my  dog  was  not  a 
'mad-dog/  A  passer-by  condoled  with  the  ladies  on  the  '  awfulness' 
of  my  sane  Juno  going  without  a  muzzle,  and  recommended  them  not 
to  venture  out  again  during  this  season  till  all  dogs  were  muzzled,  which 
advice  the  ladies'  preceptor  stated  her  intention  of  obeying. — This  cir- 
cumstance shows  the  excitement  of  the  public  mind  at  the  present  moment, 
and  I  believe  such  a  feeling  is  universally  abroad ;  but  until  Parliament 
tax  all  dogs  as  rigidly  as  horses,  the  evil  will  continue. — "W.  F.  M." 
"  Camberwell. " 

This  letter  is  a  specimen  of  the  thousand  and  one  sillinesses  which 
have  filled  the  papers  since  the  first  alarms  of  hydrophobia  this  season. 
Every  cockney  who  promenades  with  "  a  pointer"  prides  himself  on  his 
philosophy,  and  wonders  that  any  body  should  be  alarmed  at  being 
hunted  after  by  a  dog.  But  if  the  police  of  Camberwell  did  their  duty, 
this  coxcomb  and  his  "  pointer"  would  have  been  speedily  put  out  of 
the  way  of  pursuing  their  frolics  on  the  high  road.  The  fact  is,  that  the 
public,  instead  of  exhibiting  any  unjustifiable  alarm,  have  rather  exhi- 
bited an  unjustifiable  apathy.  What  can  be  a  greater  impeachment  of 
public  common  sense  than  the  popular  exposure  to  the  most  horrible  and 
most  incurable  of  all  diseases,  when  its  possibility  might  be  almost  extin- 
guished by  a  few  municipal  regulations  ?  The  streets  are  suffered  to 
swarm  with  dogs,  while  we  know  that  the  first  week  of  hot  weather  will 
render  one  half  of  them  dangerous  to  human  life.  Every  shop  in  every 
lane  has  its  mongrel,  ready  to  spread  death;  every  hut  in  the  suburbs 
has  its  nuisance  of  the  same  kind,  sufficiently  hazardous  to  the  passers- 
by,  at  all  seasons,  but  in  summer,  as  much  to  be  dreaded  as  a  wild  beast. 
A  snap  from  one  of  those  curs  may  inflict  the  most  dreadful  of  all  the 
dreadful  shapes  in  which  death  can  assail  the  human  frame.  The  heart- 
lessness  and  utter  disregard  of  human  injury  evinced  by  the  keepers  of 
those  animals,  whether  they  be  foolish  old  maids,  making  love  to  their 
poodles,  as  a  proof  that  they  are  capable  of  the  tender  passion  for  some- 
thing on  this  earth ;  or  sauntering  coxcombs,  who,  with  all  their  pointers, 
would  probably  not  know  a  pheasant  from  a  barn  door  fowl,  are  unpar- 
donable. We  only  wish,  that  every  owner  of  one  of  those  animals 
should  first  feel  the  advantages  of  its  keeping,  in  a  rabid  snap  to  teach 
them  to  feel  for  others. 

But  the  evil  is  so  formidable,  the  chance  of  incurring  it  so  frequent, 
and  the  prevention  so  obvious,  that  the  Home  Secretary  ought  to  take 
instant  measure  to  awake  the  slumbering  activity  of  the  magistrates  and 
other  persons  attending  to  the  public  welfare.  At  present  it  is  not  safe 
to  walk  the  streets.  In  scorn  of  all  the  placards  ordering  dogs  to  be 
kept  at  home  or  muzzled,  there  are  hundreds  of  dogs  roaming  about  un- 
muzzled. The  provisions  of  the  Grosvenor  Act  extended  through  Lon- 
don would  be  a  public  benefit.  A  heavy  fine  inflicted  on  the  owner  of 
every  unmuzzled  dog  in  the  first  instance,  with  damages  to  the  amount 
of  the  injury  inflicted  on  any  individual  in  the  next;  would  be  essential  to 
make  the  dog-lovers  feel  that  they  owed  a  duty  to  the  community. 
But  the  only  security  for  keeping  down  the  increase  of  the  hazard  in 
every  season  to  come,  would  be  a  heavy  lax  laid  upon  all  dogs  in  towns. 
Much  as  taxes  may  be  disliked,  this  would  be  universally  welcome. 


1830.]  [     105    ] 

MONTHLY  REVIEW  OF  LITERATURE,  DOMESTIC  AND  FOREIGN. 


Life  of  Bentley,  ly  Dr.  Monk,  Dean  of 
Peterborough. — The  Dean  of  Peterborough 
is  no  novice  in  literature  ;  but  we  never  gave 
him  credit  for  talents  which  the  work  before 
us  proves  he  possesses.  Much,  indeed,  of 
the  bulky  volume  is  occupied  with  the 
rights  and  customs  of  the  University  of 
Cambridge,  and  its  administration  for  nearly 
half  a  century — a  subject  which  will  inte- 
rest few,  perhaps,  but  Cambridge,  and  espe- 
cially Trinity  men  ;  and  much  of  it  also  is 
taken  up  with  controversial  topics,  the  inte- 
rest of  which,  though  once  universal,  is  now 
gone  by,  and  will  not  be  revived  ;  but  all  of 
them  are  intimately  connected  with  Bentley's 
story , and  Dr.  Monk's  narrative  interweaves  the 
whole  with  as  much  felicity  as  care.  These  are 
matters,  however,  which  could  not,  with  any 
regard  to  a  full  and  distinct  view  of  Bentley's 
character,  have  been  omitted;  and  though 
general  readers,  as  light  readers  are  called, 
will  care  little  for  University  annals,  the 
living  generations  of  Cambridge  men  will 
alone  amount  to  no  inconsiderable  number. 
In  addition  to  great  labour  of  research,  Dr. 
Monk's  book  affords  abundant  proofs  that 
every  subject  which  came  within  his  purview 
has  been  well  considered,  under  the  guidance 
of  sound  sense  and  vigorous  judgment.  He 
has  not  flinched  from  a  free  expression  of 
censure  ;  and  Bentley's  conduct,  it  must  be 
confessed,  gave  frequent  occasion  for  it. 
With  this  freedom  we  have  been,  above  all, 
well  pleased,  for  we  fully  expected  some 
attempt  to  wash  the  Ethiop  white.  The 
dean — and  we  thank  a  man  of  his  station  for 
the  avowal — sees  neither  justice  nor  expedi- 
ency in  biographers  suppressing  errors  and 
frailties — truth  is  the  paramount  considera- 
tion, and  the  failings  of  great  men  are  as 
well  calculated  as  their  virtues  to  point  a 
useful  moral.  Contrast  Nares,  in  his  life  of 
Burghley,  with  Dr.  Monk,  in  this  respect. 
The  same  bullying  temperament  which 
plunged  Bentley,  in  his  literary  pursuits, 
into  intemperate  conflicts,  prompted  him  to 
tyrannical  acts  in  the  exercise  of  authority. 
As  Master  of  Trinity,  he  broke  through  all 
established  rules  and  rights,  in  a  resolute 
determination  to  indulge  his  passion  for 
autocratic  power.  He  was  a  perpetual  tor- 
ment to  the  senior  fellows  of  his  own  college, 
and  kept  the  University  in  a  flame  for  almost 
forty  years — cool  himself,  and  enjoying  the 
conflagration  hehad  kindled  around  him.  Nei- 
ther the  suspension  of  his  degrees  for  five 
or  six  years,  nor  even  a  sentence  of  deposi- 
tion, broke  or  bent  him ;  he  set  all  at  de- 
fiance— baffled  all,  the  Vice  Chancellor's 
court,  the  diocesan,  the  King's  Bench,  the 
Privy  Council,  the  House  of  Lords,  and  to 
his  dying  hour  kept  possession  of  his  digni- 
ties and  appointments. 

Bentley's  career,  however,  was  one  of  the 
good  old  English  kind— the  result  of  ability, 

M.M.  New  Series — VOL.  X.  No.  55. 


and  the  friends  whom  that  ability  secured. 
The  son  of  a  Yorkshire  yeoman,  he  was 
brought  up  at  Wakefield  school,  and  gradu- 
ated with  distinction  at  St.  John's,  Cambridge. 
As  early  as  twenty,  he  was  made  mas- 
ter of  Spalding  school,  the  patronage  of 
which  had  lapsed  to  his  college  ;  and, 
luckily  for  him,  afcer  a  twelvemonth's  peda- 
goguing,  accepted  the  happier  appointment 
of  tutor  to  Stillingfleet's  son,  to  reside  in 
the  family,  and  accompany  his  pupil  to 
Oxford.  Stillingfbet's  connexions  thus  be- 
came Bentley's ;  and,  what  occurs  to  few,  he 
had  thus  also  the  opportunity  of  extending 
his  acquaintance  among  his  cotemporaries  at 
both  Universities.  Bentley  entered  the 
church  at  rather  a  later  period  of  life  than 
usual ;  but  within  the  first  year  of  his  ordi- 
nation, Stillingfleet,  then  become  Bishop  of 
Worcester,  made  him  his  chaplain,  and  pro- 
cured him  a  stall  in  his  own  cathedral. 
Other  occurrences,  in  quick  succession, 
brought  his  name  in  ora  virum,  and  marked 
him  out  as  a  man  qualified,  and  at  the  same 
time  destined,  for  higher  employments — his 
Ep.  ad  Millium,  a  learned  letter  upon  scores 
of  learned  topics  with  whicli  the  professed 
object  had  nothing  to  do ;  his  appointment 
as  King's  Librarian ;  and,  above  all,  the 
Boyle  lecture,  to  which  he  had  the  distin- 
guished honour  of  being  the  first  appointed, 
and  in  which,  by  the  way,  he  was  the  first 
person  who  attempted  a  popular  account  of 
Newton's  recent  discoveries.  The  Phalaris 
controversy  'established  his  reputation  for 
unrivalled  sagacity  in  learned  criticism. 

Stillingfleet  died  when  Bentley  was  thirty- 
seven  ;  but  he  was  then  able  to  stand  on  his 
own  legs.  The  very  next  year  he  was  made 
Master  of  Trinity,  and,  almost  immediately 
after,  Archdeacon  of  Ely,  and  a  short  time 
would  doubtless  have  seated  him  quietly  on 
the  episcopal  bench,  but  for  his  own  official 
intemperance,  which  at  times  made  it  dis- 
creditable for  his  friends  to  assist  his  farther 
advancement.  Nor  was  he  to  be  easily  satis- 
fied. At  one  time  he  refused  the  bishopric 
of  Bristol ;  and  being  asked  by  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle  what  would  satisfy,  he  replied, 
What  would  not  make  him  wish  for  more  : 
and,  at  a  later  period,  and  one  of  less  expec- 
tations, he  declined  the  deanery  of  Lichfield, 
because  a  prebend  of  Westminster  was  not 
to  go  with  it.  The  Regius  Professorship 
of  Divinity,  however,  he  seized  by  main 
force,  or,  rather,  by  a  sort  of  trickery  that 
would  have  sunk  irrecoverably  to  the  lowest 
depths  any  other  man  living.  Encroaching, 
at  last,  beyond  endurance,  upon  the  rights 
of  the  fellows  of  his  college,  they  appealed  to 
the  visiter,  which  gave  Bentley  an  opportu- 
nity of  raising  the  question  of  who  was  the 
visiter,  the  Crown  or  the  Bishop  of  Ely, 
which  led  the  way  to  endless  litigations.  In 
the  mean  while,  Bentley  pursued  his  own 

O 


106 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[JUNE, 


measures,  and  first  or  last,  by  fair  means  or 
foul,  carried  every  point,  and,  especially, 
built  his  magnificent  lodge  at  the  cost  of  the 
college.  Deserted  as  he  seemed  to  be  at 
times  by  almost  every  body,  he  was  never 
for  a  moment  daunted  or  diverted.  His 
enemies  were  bitter,  inveterate,  implacable — 
he  had  only  himself  to  thank  for  it :  but  he 
cared  for  no  one  ;  his  confidence  in  his  own 
resources  rendered  him  reckless  of  offence ; 
he  indulged  his  whims,  and  gave  way  to  the 
violence  of  his  temper,  in  contempt  of  com- 
mon justice,  and  to  the  sacrifice  of  the  rights 
he  was  bound  officially  to  protect.  His 
opponents,  as  he  had  foreseen,  were  finally 
worn  out — many  died,  and  the  rest  compro- 
mised ;  and  the  last  four  years  of  his  long  life 
were  spent  in  tranquillity,  farther  annoyance 
on  his  part  being  prevented  by  the  manage- 
ment of  his  friends.  Yet,  with  all  this  in- 
firmity of  temper,  no  man  had  firmer  friends, 
or  more  devoted,  or  more  admiring.  For 
this  he  was  indebted,  we  must  suppose,  to 
his  abilities  and  his  power  :  some  sided  with 
him  from  the  hope  of  patronage,  and  others 
in  reliance  on  his  dexterity,  or  from  despair 
of  effectual  opposition  ;  and  even  his  disin- 
terested friends,  if  he  had  any,  must  have 
been  influenced  more  by  awe  than  attach, 
ment 

Through  all  the  stormy  periods,  which 
consumed  a  large  portion  of  his  time,  he 
never  abandoned  his  studies,  though  he  seems 
never  to  have  pursued  them  consecutively, 
or  with  a  definite  object.  His  works  were, 
most  of  them,  written  on  the  spur  of  sudden 
motives — the  results  of  accident,  and  many 
of  them  acts  of  revenge.  Hare's  Terence 
piqued  him  to  the  production  of  his  own ; 
and  his  Emendations  on  Menander  and  Phile- 
mon were  published  to  confirm  a  flippant 
remark  of  his  own,  and  prove  Le  Clerc  an 
ass.  Of  his  editorial  works,  the  Terence  is 
decidedly  the  most  valuable.  His  Horace, 
Dr.  Monk  thinks,  and  we  agree  with  him, 
has  been  unduly  depreciated :  certainly  it  is 
not  to  be  classed,  as  some  have  foolishly  pro- 
nounced, with  his  atrocities  upon  Milton. 
The  Phalaris  is  beyond  any  praise  of  ours 
— it  is  an  unequalled  piece  of  critical  acumen. 

Three  Courses  and  a  Dessert.  —  The 
punning  decorations  of  this  handsome  volume 
must  be  the  first  thing  to  attract  attention. 
The  "  Whims  and  Oddities"  are  the  sug- 
gestions, or  rather  the  inventions,  of  the  mag- 
nificent host  himself;  but  they  have  been 
dished  up,  and  put  into  a  presentable  shape, 
by  that  prince  of  cooks,  Cruikshank.  In  his 
preface,  the  paterfamilias,  after  making  his 
best  acknowledgments  to  the  artist,  squeezes 
out  a  deprecatory  sentence  or  two  to  his 
guests,  for  his  own  temerity,  and  winds  up 
characteristically  with  a  crocodile  erect  in  a 
pulpit,  shedding  tears. 

The  Three  Courses  are  of  course  three  sets 
of  tales,  entitled,  successively,  West  Country 
Chronicles,  Neighbours  of  an  old  Irish  Boy, 
and  My  Cousin's  Clients ;  and  the  Dessert 


consists  of  a  few  bonbons— short,  sweet, 
and  crisp.  The  West  Country  Chronicles 
are  told  chiefly  in  the  Somersetshire  dialect ; 
and  so  pat  and  perfect  in  it  is  the  author,  that 
it  may  be  presumed  he  is  to  the  manner  born. 
One  of  the  pieces  of  this  course — a  piece  de 
resistance — is  so  remarkable  for  strength  and 
pathos,  that  we  pick  it  out  of  the  ludicrous, 
to  give  the  reader  a  taste.  It  is  called  The 
Braintrees.  Braintree  had  been  a  country 
gentleman's  gamekeeper,  and  had  been  hast- 
ily turned  out  of  office  through  the  insidious 
dealings  of  the  man  who  took  his  place.  He 
had  been  till  then  an  honest  fellow  enough ; 
but  the  loss  of  his  place  drove  him  to  poach- 
ing, and  the  loss  of  character  stung  him  to 
revenge.  No  single  act  seemed  capable  of 
soothing  his  exasperated  feelings;  and  he 
laid  a  scheme  which  took  time  to  mature, 
and  all  the  while  too  fed  and  fostered  his 
vengeance.  His  wife  was  nursing  the  squire's 
son  and  heir,  and  he  commanded  her  to  sub- 
stitute her  own  child  in  his  place.  Affecting 
to  yield  to  his  wishes,  her  maternal  feelings 
forbade  her  to  execute  them ;  and  Braintree 
fondly  cherished  the  conviction  that  he  held 
the  squire's  happiness  in  his  hands,  and  gra- 
tified his  hatred  by  ill-treating  the  child. 
Every  blow  he  gave  the  boy,  as  he  grew  up, 
seemed  to  him  inflicted  on  the  squire.  In 
the  meanwhile,  he  took  all  possible  pains  to 
win  the  affections  of  the  young  squire,  whom 
he  believed  his  own  son,  by  initiating  him  in 
the  mysteries  of  sporting.  The  young  men 
were  now  eighteen  years  old,  when  accident- 
ally encountering  the  keeper  in  the  woods  in 
the  night,  and  quarrelling  with  him,  Brain- 
tree  shot  him  dead,  and  then  exulted  in  the 
success  with  which  he  contrived  to  throw  the 
appearance  of  guilt  upon  the  youth  he  had  so 
long  harshly  treated.  He  had  not,  however, 
managed  the  matter  so  cunningly  as  not  to 
leave  some  shades  of  suspicion,  which  caused 
his  own  arrest.  In  this  unexpected  embarrass- 
ment, he  sent  for  the  young  squire,  and, 
breaking  to  him  that  he  was  his  father,  com- 
manded him  to  assist  him  in  escaping,  by 
cutting  the  rope  which  bound  him.  Con- 
founded at  the  discovery,  and  torn  by  con- 
flicting emotions,  the  youth  cut  the  rope,  and 
then  gave  himself  up  to  the  most  torturing 
thoughts:  he  was  attached  to  Braintree's 
daughter,  and  she  now  seemed  to  be  his 
sister.  Meanwhile,  Braintree  takes  flight ; 
and,  in  his  farewell  interview  with  his  wife, 
discovers  that  the  exchange  of  children  had 
never  taken  place,  and  that  he  has  all  along 
been  acting  under  a  delusion.  Horror-struck, 
he  hastens  back  to  the  magistrate  to  excul- 
pate his  son ;  and  he  is,  at  last,  killed  in  a 
desperate  attempt  to  escape.  The  scene  at 
the  little  ale-house,  where  the  villagers  dis- 
cuss the  murder,  is  a  most  felicitous  piece  of 
painting. 

The  Bachelor's  Darling  has  some  capital 
scenes  of  low  life.  We  shall  quote  a 
most  vivacious  account  of  a  London  life  of 
business.  The  speaker  is  a  merchant :  he  is 
on  a  visit  to  a  brother,  a  country  baronet, 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign* 


107 


after  an  absence  of  many  years.  In  the 
course  of  conversation,  the  baronet,  hearing 
his  brother  talk  of  engagements,  exclaims, 
"  But  you  must  have  some  time  to  kill." 

'•  Kill !  kill  time  !— Oh,  dear  !  no,"  replied 
Archibald  ;  "  you  know  nothing  about  the  matter. 
Time  travels  too  fast  by  half  to  please  me ;— I 
should  like  to  clip  the  old  scoundrel's  pinions. 
The  complaints  which  I  have  heard,  occasionally, 
of  time  passing  away  so  slowly,  ennui,  and  what 
not,  are  to  me  miraculous.  Time  seems  to  travel 
at  such  a  deuce  of  a  rate,  that  there's  no  keeping 
pace  with  him.  The  days  are  too  short  by  half,  so 
are  the  nights  ;  so  are  the  weeks,  the  months,  and 
the  years.  I  can  scarcely  get  to  bed  before  it's  time 
to  get  up  ;  and  I  haven't  been  up  but  a  little  time, 
apparently,  before  it's  time  to  go  to  bed.  I  can  but 
barely  peep  at  the  Gazette,  or  any  matter  of  similar 
interest  in  the  papers,  and  swallow  an  anchovy- 
sandwich,  and  a  couple  of  cups  of  coffee,  when  its 
time  to  be  at  the  'counting-house.  By  the  time  I 
have  read  the  letters  and  given  a  few  directions,  it's 
time  to  be  in  a  hundred  places;— before  I  can  reach 
the  last  of  them,  it's  time  to  be  on 'Change;— I  don't 
speak  to  half  the  ;people  there,  to  whom  I  have 
something  to  say,  before  it's  time  to  reply  to  corre- 
spondents ;  and  my  letters  are  scarcely  written  before 
it's  post  and  dinner  time.  Farewell  business ! — but 
then  there's  no  time  for  enjoyment :  dinner,  wine, 
coffee,  supper,  and  punch,  follow  in  such  rapid 
succession,— actually  treading  on  each  other's  heels, 
— that  there's  no  time  to  be  comfortable  at  either 
of  them.  It's  the  same  in  bed  ;  a  man  must  sleep 
fast,  or  time  will  get  the  start  of  him,  and  business 
be  behindhand  an  hour  or  two,  and  every  thing  in 
disorder  next  morning.  If  I  accept  a  bill  for  a  couple 
of  months,it's  due  before  I  can  well  whistle :  my  ware- 
house rents  are  enormous ;  and,  upon  my  conscience, 
Lady-day  and  her  three  sisters  introduce  themselves 
to  my  notice,  at  intervals  so  barely  perceptible,  that 
the  skirt  of  one  of  the  old  harridans'  garments  has 
scarcely  disappeared,  before  in  flounces  another. 
It's  just  as  bad  with  the  fire-insurances,  and  a  thou- 
sand other  things, — little  matters  as  well  as  great : 
a  man  can  scarcely  pick  his  teeth  before  he's  hungry 
again.  The  seasons  are  drawn  by  race-horses  ;  my 
family  has  barely  settled  at  home  after  a  trip  to 
Buxton,  Brussels,  or  elsewhere,  before  summer 
comes  round,  and  Mrs.  H.  pines  for  fresh  air  and 
an  excursion'checque  again.  I  can  scarcely  recover 
the  drain  made  on  my  current  capital,  by  portioning 
one  daughter,  before  another  shoots  up  from  a 
child  to  a  woman;  and  .lack This  or  Tom  T'other's 
father  wants  to  know  if  I  mean  to  give  her  the 
same  as  her  sister.  It's  wonderful  how  a  man  gets 
through  so  much  in  the  short  space  of  life ;  he  must 
be  prepared  for  everything,  when,  egad  !  there's  no 
time  for  anything." 

Humane  Policy  ;  or  Justice  to  the  Ab- 
origines of  New  Settlements,  fyc.  By  J. 
Bannister,  late  Attorney- General  in  New 
South  Wales. — Though  applicable  in  prin- 
ciple to  all  our  settlements,  the  immediate 
object  of  the  author's  remarks  is  the  Cape 
and  its  neighbourhood.  No  British  settle- 
ments are  at  this  time  in  so  much  jeopardy, 
from  the  resentments  of  the  natives,  as  those 
of  Southern  Africa.  The  causes  are  obvi- 
ous enough.  More  injustice  and  cruelty  have 
been  committed  in  those  regions,  and  less 
pains  been  taken  to  cover  and  colour  usurpa- 
tions, than  elsewhere. '  Nothing  of  the  kind 


will,  of  course,  be  acknowledged.  The 
fault  all  lies  at  the  door  of  the  miserable 
natives — the  Hottentots  are  stupid,  the 
Caffres  ferocious,  the  Bushmen  implacable—- 
they can  none  of  them  distinguish  friends 
from  foes.  The  colonists,  though  meaning 
nothing  but  good,  have  all  their  kind  views 
counteracted  by  the  insensibilities  or  the 
atrocities  of  the  savage ;  and  as  to  govern- 
ments, they  have,  of  course,  but  one  cure 
for  all  sores — the  sword.  New  lights  break 
in,  however,  by  degrees.  A  little  common 
sense  at  home  infuses  gradually  a  belief  that 
every  thing  in  the  human  form  has  passions 
and  feelings  in  common  ;  and  that  if  supe- 
rior intelligence  does  not  work  its  natural 
influence,  the  fault  is  probably  in  the  un- 
skilfulness  with  which  it  is  employed.  We 
must  not  expect  gentleness  for  violence,  or, 
when  we  encroach  upon  others'  rights,  hope 
that  the  owners  will  turn  round  and  thank 
us,  and  not  rather  seek  opportunity  for  ven- 
geance. That  the  African  of  the  Cape  is 
not  the  unimpressible  being  he  has  been 
represented  is  proved  from  the  intercourse  of 
the  missionaries,  and  still  more  satisfactorily 
from  the  experience  of  the  few  colonists  who 
have  tried  gentle  methods,  and  treated  them 
on  the  footing  of  human  beings  with  human 
feelings. 

From  the  first  conquest  of  the  Cape  we 
find  governors  affecting  to  recognize  the 
principles  of  common  equity  ;  but  their 
measures,  down  to  the  very  last  year,  prove 
the  recognition  is  one  of  words  only.  The 
project  of  seizing  Gaika,  the  Caffre  chief, 
in  1822,  and  the  Griegans,  in  Beaufort 
Town,  in  1820— the  killing  of  the  Ficani 
in  1828,  and  the  seizing  of  the  neutral 
ground,  and  Macomo's  land,  in  1829,  would 
surely  have  never  been  devised,  if  those 
principles  had  really  operated ;  or  if,  as  Mr. 
Bannister  justly  observes,  such  measures 
were  liable  to  be  submitted  to  public  opinion. 
A  free  press  at  the  Cape,  apparently,  could 
do  no  harm,  and  might  check  the  abuse  of 
power. 

No  doubt  the  habits  of  the  people  inter- 
pose numerous  obstacles  to  any  project  of 
civilizing  them  ;  but  civilizing  them  is  not, 
and  cannot,  be  the  first  object  of  colonizing, 
if  it  be  even  the  secondary — it  is  rather, 
perhaps,  not  one  at  all  directly  and  by 
special  effort,  but  only  one  that  is  likely  to 
follow  from  the  neighbourhood  of  good  ex- 
ample, and  one  that  is  desirable.  If  any 
thing  can  be  done,  it  must  be  more  by  for- 
bearance than  by  any  thing  else.  In  tracts 
of  country  either  unoccupied,  or  but  thinly 
peopled,  difficulties  have  rarely  been  found 
in  prevailing  upon  the  natives  to  cede  consi- 
derable portions  upon  terms.  These  con- 
tracts, it  may  be,  the  natives  occasionally 
break  ;  but  the  melancholy  truth  is,  Europe- 
ans always  break  them,  and  no  faith  has 
been  kept  at  all  with  the  people  of  the  Cape. 

The  object  of  Mr.  Bannister's  book  is  to 
show  the  means  that  are  in  our  hands  to 
secure  at  once  the  well-being  of  the  colonists, 

N2 


Ntt 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


and  to  promote  the  improvement  of  the 
natives:  and  these  are, -to  dispense  justice; 
to  distribute  lands  and  prevent  encroach, 
inents;  to  protect  trade;  to  keep  up  politi- 
cal intercourse ;  to  support  the  well-disposed 
colonists  ;  to  encourage  the  well-disposed 
natives ;  to  impart  instruction,  civil  and 
religious  ;  and  expend  money,  not  in  making 
war,  but  in  maintaining  peace.  Under  each 
of  these  heads  the  indefatigable  and  earnest 
writer  has  collected  a  vast  deal  of  informa- 
tion calculated  to  show  the  weakness  and  the 
wickedness  of  the  old  system,  and  the  indis- 
putable grounds  that  should  urge  us  to 
enforce  a  new  one.  The  acquisitions  that 
have  been  made  by  usurpation  have  cost, 
within  these  few  years,  sums  treble  their 
worth  in  military  expeditions  to  secure  them. 
Some  of  the  money  thus  uselessly  spent 
might  be  usefully  employed  in  sending 
agents  beyond  the  frontiers.  "  The  very 
least  advantage  to  be  gained  from  such 
persons  would  be  that  we  should  know 
what  our  neighbours  are  doing.  In- 
stead of  adopting  this  advice,  the  old  state 
of  ignorance  is  allowed  to  exist ;  and  the  na- 
tural consequences  are,  that  in  1827,  large 
districts  were  stript  of  the  inhabitants  to  be 
sent,  for  weeks  together,  to  the  frontier,  in 
search  of  an  enemy  never  seen.  In  1828,  a 
far  greater  disturbance  of  our  domestic 
affairs  takes  place  (pressing  most  heavily 
upon  the  neediest  class,  the  Hottentots);  and 
we  attack  a  people  who  would  have  joined 
us  against  the  enemy  we  were  seeking,  and 
whose  great  sufferings  we  ought  to  have 
alleviated  instead  of  aggravating.  In  1829, 
the  same  unacquaintedness  with  much  nearer 
neighbours,  the  Caffres,  again  fills  the 
whole  colony  with  alarm  and  disturbance, 
accompanied  by  the  usual  array  of  armed 
men,  and  expensive  military  arrangements." 

Two  things  at  moderate  expense  may,  the  writer 
thinks,  be  proposed  with  advantage  to  promote  a 
better  course.  First,  the  adoption  of  the  settlement 
at  Port  Natal;  and,  secondly,  the  appointment  of 
a  single  commissioner  for  the  interior.  His  usual 
residence  might  be  at  the  head  of  the  river  Key, 
near  the  Moravian  station  in  the  Klippart  branch  ; 
but  he  should  visit  the  great  chiefs,  and  be  the  organ 
of  communication  with  all  the  tribes  from  Natal  to 
Lattakoo.  It  is  believed  that  600,000  souls  would 
come  within  the  immediate  influence  of  his  duties; 
and  that  an  impression  would  be  made  through 
such  an  appointment,  calculated  to  lead  these 
Africans,  eager  as  they  are  well  known  to  be  for 
improvement,  to  high  civilization  in  a  very  few 
years.  The  special  duties  of  this  commissioner 
may  be  proposed  in  a  few  words.  He  should  repre- 
sent the  king  to  the  tribes  subject  to  the  governor 
at  the  Cape.  He  should  negotiate  treaties  with  the 
chiefs  ;  assist  them  in  advancing  the  civilization  of 
their  people;  report  all  their  complaints;  reduce 
their  customs  to  writing;  organize  common  laws 
between  them  and  us  on  all  points,  subject  to  the 
approval  of  the  Cape  government;  promote  the 
union  of  tribe  after  tribe  with  us;  acquire  their 
language,  and  print  annual  reports  concerning  the 
interior,  in  addition  to  making  reports  to  the  go- 
vernor of  the  Cape  every  week  upon  all  points  con- 
cerning his  post,  and  upon  the  state  of  the  tribes. 


If  his  yearly  reports  were  published -in  the  Caps 
newspapers,  it  would  be  the  best  guarantee  for  his 
efficiency  ;  and,  every  year,  ten-fold  his  salary 
would  be  saved  in  the  improvement  which  his  in- 
fluence must  extend  among  the  tribes,  and  also  the 
colonial  border  authorities. 

The  Family  Cabinet  Atlas,  Parti. — The 
numerous  publications  of  maps  of  all  sizes 
indicate  the  general  feeling  of  their  import- 
ance, not  only  as  aids  in  the  education  of 
youth,  but  for  the  use  of  all  ages.  Maps 
have  been  too  much  neglected.  They  are 
potent  helps  in  presenting  historical  and 
geographical  relations  clearly  to  the  under- 
standing, and  fixing  them  in  the  memory. 
By  far  the  greater  part  of  people  read  hi- 
stories and  travels  with  little  or  no  reference 
to  maps;  and  the  consequences  are  general 
confusion,  and  a  fast  fading  away,  for  the 
want  of  that  binding  quality  which  they  pe- 
culiarly possess : — they  are  the  mordents  of 
literature,  and  of  equal  virtue  with  chrono- 
logical tables  and  biographical  charts.  The 
Family  Atlas  is  destined  by  its  size  to  ac- 
company the  many  periodical  works  on  all 
sorts  of  subjects  now  publishing,  and  which 
show  better  than  any  thing  else  how  rapidly 
and  extensively  the  demand  for  books  is 
spreading.  The  scale  of  these  maps  is  of 
course  very  small,  but  the  engraving  is  di- 
stinct and  neat.  To  avoid  the  crowding  of 
names,  the  principal  places  only  are  inserted 
in  the  plates,  and  the  less  important  are 
thrown  into  alphabetical  tables  on  the  oppo- 
site pages  with  latitudes  and  longitudes 
affixed,  by  which  their  relative  positions  in 
the  maps  may  be  readily  ascertained.  The 
first  portion  has  two  plates,  with  the  relative 
lengths  and  heights  of  the  principal  rivers 
and  mountains  in  the  globe. 

The  Fortunes  of  Francesco  Novella  da 
Carrara,  Lord  of  Padna,  an  Historical 
Tale  (not  a  Novel)  of  the  14th  Century, 
from  the  Chronicles  of  Gataro,  by  David 
Si/me,  Esq. — The  house  of  Carrara  is  iden- 
tified with  the  story  of  Padua  throughout 
the  fourteenth  century,  and  the  fortunes  of 
FranscescoNovello,  the  last  lord  of  the  name, 
have  all  the  variety  and  interest  of  a  ro- 
mance. ,  The  Carraras  were  Guelfs,  and  of 
course  in  political  conflict  with  their  oppo- 
nents, the  predominant  faction.  In  1389 
Francesco  Vecchio,  by  the  treacheries  of  his 
counsellors  corrupted  by  Galeazzo,  the  Lord 
of  Milan,  was  induced  to  resign  and  with- 
draw toTreviso.  The  family,  however,  had 
friends  still  stanch  to  their  interests ;  and  his 
son,  Francesco  Novello,  was  immediately  re- 
cognised chief  of  the  state.  Novello  was 
then  about  forty,  and  a  man  of  considerable 
experience ;  active  and  resolute  besides,  and 
not  of  a  disposition  to  abandon  readily  his 
rights.  They  were,  however,  soon  lost,  and 
won  and  lost  again. 

The  story  is  circumstantially  told  by 
Gataro,  a  name  distinguished  among  the 
chroniclers  of  Italy,  and  whose  work  consti- 
tutes a  portion  of  Muratoii's  invaluable  col- 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


109 


lection.  (By  the  way,  how  is  it  we  have  no 
English  Muratori  ?  The  materials  abound  ; 
and  Mr.  D'Israeli — is  he  not  the  very  man 
for  the  editor  ?)  Gataro's  narrative  is  full  of 
interest,  though  unmercifully  prolix  ;  but 
Mr.  Syme  has  wisely  dipt  a  little  of  its 
luxuriance,  or,  taldng  his  own  metaphor,  he 
has  melted  down  the  original  narrative,  and 
recast  it  in  a  smaller  mould,  preserving  as 
much  as  possible  the  fashion  of  the  work- 
manship. 

The  Count  of  Milan,  though  surprised, 
we  do  not  know  why,  by  the  appointment 
of  the  younger  Francesco,  was  not  to  be 
readily  baffled.  Contracting  an  alliance  with 
the  signory  of  Venice,  he  forthwith  despatched 
a  hostile  message  to  Padua.  This  the  new 
lord  endeavoured  to  elude, ,  by  telling  the 
herald  the  message  was  meant  for  his  father, 
no  longer  Lord  of  Padua,  and  that  he  himself 
was  desirous  of  living  at  peace  with  his 
neighbours.  Poh,  poh,  cries  the  count,  when 
the  reply  was  reported,  sons  of  cats  are  fond 
of  mice ;  and  no  farther  time  was  lost  in  ver- 
balities.  Francesco  too  bestirred  himself, 
and  made  all  possible  preparations  to  repel 
the  coming  invasion  ;  but  his  utmost  efforts 
were  vain  against  the  force  of  his  enemies 
and  the  treacheries  of  his  subjects.  Terms 
were  accepted,  and  Novello  retired  to 
Milan,  ostensibly  under  the  protection  of  the 
count ;  but  soon  discovering  some  further 
stratagems,  especially  a  plan  of  assassinating 
him,  and  failing  himself  in  an  attempt  to  be 
beforehand  with  his  oppressor,  he  found 
escape  was  the  only  chance  of  security.  This, 
though  not  without  difficulty,  was  success- 
fully accomplished,  in  company  with  his  wife, 
a  very  dainty  dame ;  and  the  details  of  their 
embarrassments  and  perils,  by  the  way  of 
Vienne,  Avignon,  and  the  Genoese  coast  to 
Florence,  are  calculated  to  give  a  very  lively 
conception  of  the  state  of  the  country,  and 
the  accommodations  for  travelling  in  those 
days.  At  Florence  it  was  no  part  of  No- 
vello's  purpose  to  sit  down  quietly :  he 
quickly  got  up  a  little  alliance,  and  being 
aided  by  his  wife's  connexions  from  Ger- 
many, in  a  few  months  took  Padua  again  by 
storm,  and  found  himself  firmly  established 
in  his  old  seat.  Some  time  after  this  happy 
event,  the  Count  of  Milan,  under  the  sanction 
of  the  emperor,  assumed  the  title  of  duke, 
and  the  year  1395  was  distinguished  by  the 
splendour  of  his  inauguration.  According 
to  the  honest  chronicler,  "there  were  pre- 
sent, besides  the  representatives  of  Christian 
powers,  those  of  the  Grand  Turk,  of  the 
King  of  the  Tartars,  of  the  Great  Soldan,  of 
Prester  John,  of  Tamerlane  the  Great,  and 
of  many  other  heathen  princes."  At  this 
splendid  spectacle  appeared  also  Da  Carrara, 
but  of  course  with  nothing  like  cordiality. 
He  still  hated  the  duke,  and  longed  for  more 
complete  revenge.  A  new  war  was  soon 
kindled  against  the  aspiring  duke;  Fran- 
cesco was  the  chief  instigator  and  conspicuous 
leader ;  Padua,  in  consequence,  bore  the 
brunt  of  the  storm,  and  the  horrors  inflicted 


upon  the  country  surpassed  the  common 
atrocities  of  the  age.  Failing  completely  in 
his  object,  Francesco  finally  fell  into  the  hands 
of  his  conquerors,  and  was  conveyed,  with 
his  two  sons,  prisoner  to  Venice,  where  all 
three  perished  by  the  bowstring  in  the  dun- 
geons of  St.  Mark,  at  the  command  of  the 
signory.  The  noble  family  was  thus  ex- 
tinguished. 

Divines  of  the  Church  of  England,  'with 
Lives  of  the  Authors,  %c.  ly  the  Rev.  T.  S. 
Hughes,  B.  D.  JB'tshop  Sherlock. — This  is  a 
very  desirable  set  of  reprints,  and  we  are 
glad  to  see  the  superintendence  of  them  placed 
in  the  hands  of  so  respectable  an  individual 
as  the  late  Christian  Advocate  of  Cambridge. 
The  greater  part  of  our  old  church  divines 
have  not  for  very  many  years  been  reprinted, 
a  fact  which  bespeaks  something  like  indif- 
ference, and  betrays  a  censurable,  because  a 
careless  neglect  of  the  sources  of  theological 
sentiments  current  in  English  pulpits  from 
their  days  down  to  our  own.  The  com- 
mencement is  made  with  the  younger  Sher- 
lock ;  and  a  complete  edition  of  his  writings, 
which  singularly  enough  has  never  been 
published,  is  now  contemplated.  We  like, 
notwithstanding  a  little  incumbronce  of 
bulk,  complete  editions,  because  we  like 
complete  judgments  to  be  formed  of  charac- 
ter and  talent,  and  fair  estimates  of  effects 
produced  by  the  union,  which  cannot  be 
accomplished  without.  In  the  prospectus  we 
observe  some  names,  the  republication  of 
whose  works  would  be  quite  superfluous,  as 
Paley ;  and  some  quite  unimportant,  asOgden 
and  Hurd ;  while  we  miss  others  that  cannot 
be  dispensed  with,  as  Tillotson ;  but  the  plan 
is  not  yet  perhaps  matured,  or  at  all  events 
may  yet  be  modified.  Of  those  who  are 
usually  classed  as  reformers,  we  see  only 
Jewell's  name. 

The  first  volume  contains  a  life  of  Sher- 
lock by  Mr.  Hughes,  and  twenty-four  of 
Sherlock's  sermons,  the  characteristics  of 
which  are  sound  sense  and  safe  theology. 
"  I  shall  first  explain  the  text,  and  then  make 
some  useful  remarks,"  is  the  usual  preface, 
and  nobody  can  fairly  complain  of  any  breach 
of  promise.  Though  an  able  and  prominent 
man,  professionally  and  politically,  the  ma- 
terials for  his  biography,  either  in  the  shape 
of  correspondence,  or  scattered  notices  in  co- 
temporary  writings,  are  not  very  abundant. 
He  was  born  in  1678,  and  educated  at 
Eton  and  Cambridge.  At  Eton  he  was  in 
friendship  with  Townsend,  Walpole,  and 
Pelham  ;  and  at  Cambridge  was  of  the  same 
college  with  Hoadley,  with  whom  he  clashed 
at  lectures,  the  source  probably  of  some  of 
the  bitterness  which  is  visible  in  his  subse- 
quent conflicts  with  him.  Upon  his  pro- 
fessional life  he  entered  with  the  most  favour- 
able auspices.  His  father  was  Master  of  the 
Temple  and  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  and  had 
interest  enough,  on  his  resignation  of  the 
Temple,  to  get  his  aspiring  son  appointed, 
at  the  early  age  of  26.  Though  vacating  his 


no 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


fellowship  at  Catherine  Hall,  on  his  marriage 
in  1707,  he  kept  up  his  connexions  there, 
and  in  17 14  was  elected  master  of  his  college, 
and  the  same  year,  while  vice-chancellor, 
came  into  collision  officially  with  Bentley. 
On  the  accession  of  the  Hanover  family  he 
obtained  the  deanery  of  Chichester,  through 
the  personal  favour  of  Lord  Townsend  ;  for 
Sherlock  himself  was  a  man  of  tory  principles, 
though  not  of  the  sternest  cast ;  at  least  they 
were  found  susceptible  of  occasional  flexi- 
bility, and  only  retarded  his  advancement. 
In  171G-17  appeared  Hoadley's  tract  and 
sermon,  which,  as  every  body  knows,  in- 
volved the  divine  rights  of  the  clergy,  and 
their  claims  to  independence  of  the  civil 
power.  These  were  brought  before  the  con- 
vocation, and  Sherlock,  as  chairman  of  the 
committee,  drew  up  the  report,  denouncing 
the  tendency  of  both  publications.  Measures 
of  some  intemperance  would  probably  have 
followed,  but  for  the  prompt  and  peremptory 
step  the  whig  ministry  took  of  proroguing 
the  convocation,  and  never  suffering  them  to 
delate  again.  The  question,  however,  was 
taken  up  out  of  doors ;  and  among  above  a 
hundred  combatants  who  first  or  last  en- 
gaged in  the  fray,  Sherlock  became  conspicu- 
ous, and  was  considered,  more  from  his  sta- 
tion than  his  exertions,  as  Hoadley's  leading 
opponent.  For  a  time  he  suffered  the  honours 
of  a  confessor,  and  had  his  name  erased  from 
the  list  of  court  chaplains.  This,  however, 
was  but  a  passing  eclipse.  Walpole  was  a 
personal  friend,  and  on  the  accession  of 
Oeorge  II.  he  made  Sherlock  Bishop  of 
Bangor,  and  subsequently  removed  him  to 
Salisbury.  In  the  House  of  Lords  he  had  an 
opportunity  of  obliging  Walpole,  in  full  con- 
sistency with  his  tory  feelings.  Whigs  in 
office  are  tories  of  course.  Walpole  suffered 
the  pension-bill  to  pass  the  commons,  being 
sure  of  the  peers,  where  Sherlock  magnani- 
mously opposed  his  friend  and  patron.  On 
Walpale's  final  defeat,  however,  Sherlock 
stood  forward  in  defence  of  his  friend  in  a 
manly  way,  whatever  may  be  said  either  of 
his  consistency  as  a  party-man,  or  his  virtue 
as  a  patriot.  Though  much  engaged  in 
secular  politics,  he  was  at  the  same  time 
professionally  active,  and  that  in  more 
important  and  less  acrimonious  controversies 
than  the  Bangorian  one  with  Collins  and 
Wollaston,  on  the  topics,  respectively,  of  pro- 
phecy and  miracles.  He  was  now  getting 
old,  and  so  much  enfeebled  by  disease  as  to 
•decline  the  primacy  on  the  death  of  Potter ; 
but  rallying  again  a  year  or  two  after,  he 
accepted  the  bishopric  of  London,  and  held 
it  twelve  years,  to  his  death. 

Sherlock  died  very  wealthy,  a  fact  with 
which  his  memory  has  been  upbraided  a 
thousand  times.  Charges  of  this  kind  are 
lightly  adopted  and  rarely  scanned.  To 
throw  a  little  more  weight  into  the  scale,  he 
was  said  to  have  left  the  palace  at  Fulham 
in  ruins.  Mr.  Hvighes  lias  collected  some 
evidence  which  qualifies  the  matter  consider- 
ably. In  a  letter  still  extant,  written  upon 


his  new  appointment,  Sherlock  says, — "  I 
find  there  is  a  very  bad  old  house.  I  must  re- 
pair a  great  deal  of  it,  and  I  am  afraid  re- 
build some  part.  It  is  late  for  me  to  be  so 
employed,  but  somebody  will  be  the  better 
for  it."  The  present  Bishop  of  London  in- 
forms Mr.  Hughes  by  letter  that  Sherlock 
did  build  a  dining-room  (which  is  now  the 
kitchen)  with  bed-rooms  over  it.  Sherlock 
had  considerable  property  from  his  father 
and  brother,  who  were  both  rich.  His  large 
possessions  fell  to  the  Gooches  of  Suffolk. 
Gooch,  Bishop  of  Norwich,  married  Sher- 
lock's sister,  from  whom  the  Suffolk  Gooches 
are  descended. 

Influence  of  Climate  in  the  Prevention  and 
Cure  of  Chronic  Diseases,  ($£C.}  by  James 
Clark,  M.D. — There  is  no  quackery,  at 
least,  in  Dr.  Clark's  book.  He  makes  little 
attempt  at  theorizing,  keeping  almost  wholly 
to  what  appear  matters  of  fact  H  is  main 
object  is  to  exhibit  the  results  of  observation 
— to  state  the  physical  characters  of  particu- 
lar climates,  and  the  effects  experienced  under 
them.  From  these  two  sets  of  data  he  occa- 
sionally ventures  to  express  what  he  terms 
the  characteristic  or  medical  qualities  of 
climates — so  far  only  as  they  warrant,  and 
that  to  be  sure  is  but  little.  The  physical 
characters  alluded  to  seem  to  mean  no  more 
than  temperature  and  perhaps  hygrometry, 
and  the  effects  no  more  than  the  apparent 
ones.  Of  course  no  deduction  made  from  such 
imperfect  premises  can  be  adopted  with  much 
confidence.  It  is  idle  to  talk  of  any  law, 
which  governs  the  effect  of  climate  upon 
disease,  when  climate  itself  is  not  yet  defined ; 
and  of  course  nothing  can  be  more  hazardous 
than  to  pronounce  peremptorily  upon  sup- 
posed effects.  In  the  present  state  of  our 
knowledge,  the  matter  is  wholly  one  of  ex- 
perience, almost  a  tentative  matter.  The  more 
diseased  persons  are  found  to  be  relieved 
upon  a  residence  at  a  given  spot,  the  greater 
becomes  the  probability  as  to  the  fact  of  the 
medical  qualities  of  the  place  (call  it  climate, 
or  what  we  will)  for  specific  diseases ;  or,  at 
least,  the  greater  will  be  the  belief  in  them, 
and  the  more  confidently  will  recourse  be 
had  to  them.  Dr.  Clark  has  traversed  the 
whole  line  of  the  south  and  south-west  coast 
of  England,  and  ascertained  the  differences 
of  temperature  in  most  of  the  frequented 
spots  :  their  range  is  not  considerable.  Some 
places  he  finds  also  drier  than  others ;  but 
his  statistics  have  not  yet  their  requisite 
nicety.  Generally  the  south  coast  is  less 
dry  towards  the  west  than  towards  the  east. 
Undercliff,  a  spot  of  about  six  miles  on  the 
S.  P;.  of  the  Isle  of  Wight,  seems  to  Dr.  Clark 
to  be  the  Madeira  of  England.  It  is  more 
sheltered  than  Hastings,  with  the  advantage 
of  a  considerable  space  of  protected  country 
for  rides  and  drives,  while  two  or  three  hun- 
dred yards  are  the  utmost  extent  of  the 
skreened  part  of  Hastings. 

After  this  survey  at  home,  Dr.  Clark  takes 
a  similar  glance  along  the  coasts  of  France 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


Ill 


and  Italy,  Madeira,  and  the  West  Indies, 
collecting  his  informations,  when  his  per- 
sonal knowledge  fails,  from  his  medical 
friends,  and  persons  whose  evidence  he  relies 
upon.  He  has  chiefly  in  view  diseases  of  the 
lungs  and  the  digestive  organs ;  and  as  to 
the  former,  he  ingenuously  confesses  no  be- 
nefit is  to  be  hoped  for  from  any  known 
change  of  climate  in  any  of  the  specific 
stages  of  the  disease.  There  are  indications 
of  approaching  disease,  which  are  probably 
the  disease  itself  in  its  incipient  state,  when  a 
change  of  scene  is  found  sometimes  to  be 
efficient.  But  at  Madeira  itself,  diseases  of 
the  lungs  are  common.  Dr.  Clark's  book  is 
very  intelligibly  and  sensibly  written,  and 
calculated  to  contribute  materially  to  the  im- 
portant print  of  medical  statistics. 

Introduction  to  the  Study  of  the  Greek 
Classic  Poets,  by  H.  N.  Coleridge,  Esq. 
Part  L — The  very  useful  and  intelligible 
aim  of  this  little  publication  is.  by  suggesting 
sound  and  eternal  principles  of  criticism,  to 
encourage  a  free  and  manly  exercise  of  the 
judgment  upon  the  productions  of  the  Greek 
poets  of  antiquity.  These  precepts  are  of  a 
general  cast,  and  applicable  alike  to  old  and 
new,  and  independent  of  all  that  is  adven- 
titious or  accidental.  Imagination,  fancy, 
good  sense,  and  purity  of  language,  are  the 
characteristics  of  excellence  in  all  ages  and 
countries.  In  his  general  introduction,  Mr. 
Coleridge  takes  a  distinction  between  fancy 
and  imagination  for  which  Stewart  might 
have  envied  him.  On  the  principles  of 
Scotch  philosophy,  meaning  the  Stewart 
school,  Mr.  C.  finds  them  to  be  two  distinct 
faculties ;  though  he  might  with  the  same 
reason  split  what  the  same  school  calls  the 
faculty  of  attention  into  two  or  a  dozen,  ac- 
cording as  the  mind  is  exerted  on  problems 
or  poems,  facts  or  fables.  Queen  Mab's 
equipage  is  an  exercise  of  pure  fancy;  the 
mad  scene  of  Lear  and  Edgar,  one  of  ima- 
gination. The  first  presents  objects  of  na- 
ture or  art  as  they  are — mere  pictures,  to  be 
looked  at,  but  not  to  be  felt  for  or  with. 
The  images  of  imagination  are  transfigured, 
the  colours  and  shapes  are  modified,  as  pas- 
sion mixes  with  them.  He  illustrates  his 
meaning  by  a  reference  to  different  sets  of 
similes :  those  of  the  fancy  are  like  to  the 
sense,  and  those  of  the  imagination  to  the 
mind's  eye.  Virgil  likens  a  fair  body  stained 
with  blood  to  ivory  stained  with  a  purple 
dye.  This  is  a  resemblance  to  the  eye — not 
existing  in  the  nature  of  the  thing.  The 
same  poet  compares  a  beautiful  boy  sud- 
denly killed  to  a  bright  flower  rudely  cut 
from  its  stalk,  and  withering  on  the  ground. 
This  is  a  resemblance  to  the  mind — not  ex- 
isting in  the  nature  of  things.  Catullus,  in 
the  same  way,  compares  the  crush  of  his 
love  by  the  infidelity  of  its  object  to  a  flower 
cut  down  by  the  plough.  All  this,  it 
will  be  seen,  is  a  distinction  founded  on  the 
objects  of  sense,  and  feelings  arising  from 
moral  relations,  and  not  resting  on  distinct 


mental  faculties.  They  are  merely  classes 
of  objects,  and  the  mind  that  contemplates 
them  the  same,  one  and  indivisible. 

Homer  is  of  course  the  poet  whose  works, 
genuine  or  reputed,  are  discussed  in  the  pre- 
sent volume.  Mr.  C.  inclines  to  Heyne's 
conclusion  as  to  the  origin  of  the  Iliad,  and 
aptly  adds — 

There  are  thousands  of  old  Spanish  romances  on 
the  Cid,  and  the  heroes  of  Roncesvalles,  undoubt- 
edly the  productions  of  various  authors,  which  yet 
might  be  arranged  in  order,  and  set  out  as  several 
heroic  poems,  with  as  little  discrepancy  between 
them  in  style  and  tone  of  feeling  as  can  be  perceived 
in  the  rhapsodies  of  the  Iliad.  The  same  may  be 
said,  with  even  more  obvious  truth,  of  the  ancient 
English  ballads  on  Robin  Hood  and  his  famous 
band.  We  know  that  these  little  poems  are  from 
different  hands ;  yet  I  defy  any  critic  to  class  them 
under  different  heads,  distinguishable  by  any  differ- 
ence  of  thought  or  feeling. 

The  Odyssey,  Mr.  C.  considers,  on  the 
general  tone  of  the  thing,  and  on  divers  small 
particulars,  as  the  production  of  a  later  age — 
in  a  different  state  of  society — one  of  advanc- 
ing refinement.  We  doubt  if  this  is  not 
refining.  The  scenes  of  the  Odyssey  are 
chiefly  domestic,  while  those  of  the  Iliad  are 
on  the  battle  field: — the  heroes  are  in  tem- 
porary huts,  at  a  distance  from  domestic  ac- 
commodations, and  in  a  situation  adverse  to 
domestic  habits.  The  age,  we  think,  might 
very  well  be  the  same;  the  difference  con- 
sists only  in  scenes  and  circumstances.  The 
hymns,  usually  assigned,  for  want  of  another 
name,  to  Homer,  though  ancient,  do  not 
correspond  in  theology  with  the  principles 
of  the  Iliad;  and  the  frogs  and  mice  are 
evidently  of  a  later  period,  that  of  Aristo- 
phanes probably. 

We  are  glad  to  find  a  gentleman  like 
Mr.  C.,  engaged  in  an  active  and  laborious 
profession,  one  often  alien  from  the  muses,, 
turn  with  pleasure  to  the  studies  of  his  youth, 
and  bring  a  cultivated  and  matured  intellect 
to  bear  upon  imaginative  matters. 

Cabinet  Cyclopedia,  vol.  VII. ;  Cities 
and  Towns. — This  seventh  volume  professes 
to  be  the  first  of  three,  devoted  to  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  <{  cities  and  principal  towns  of 
the  world ;"  and  very  much  dissatisfied  we 
are,  not  so  much  with  what  is  done,  as  at 
what  is  left  undone.  The  volume  must  be 
taken  as  a  specimen  of  the  geographical  de- 
partment of  the  Cyclopaedia ;  and  it  obviously 
does  not  accord  with  the  large  professions  of 
the  editor.  According  to  his  announcements, 
the  Cyclopaedia  is  to  "  embrace  every  sub- 
ject necessary  for  a  work  of  general  re- 
ference, and,  moreover,  all  the  conveniences 
of  alphabetical  arrangement,"  &c.  The 
volume  before  us,  however,  will  serve  none 
of  the  purposes  of  a  work  of  reference,  for 
no  one  can  guess  what  specifically  he  is  likely 
to  find.  The  title  expresses  Cities— a  word 
which  with  us  is  definite ;  or  at  least  every 
episcopal  see  is  a  city,  if  every  city  be  not  an 
episcopal  see.  But  of  English  cities,  only 
eleven,  we  believe,  are  noticed,  and  certainly 


112 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[JULY, 


it  would  require  an  (Edipus  to  detect  the  prin- 
ciple of  selection  for  the  greater  of  them. 
What  criterion,  again,  determined  the  *' prin- 
cipal towns,"  is  equally  puzzling.  The  an- 
cientness  seems  to  have  been  the  ground  of  se- 
lection in  some  cases,  yet  we  have  no  account 
of  Chester  or  Durham :  sometimes  manu- 
factures appear  to  have  been  the  cause,  yet 
nothing  is  said  of  Leeds,  or  Nottingham,  or 
Leicester,  or  Coventry ;  sometimes  commer- 
cial importance,  yet  no  notice  is  taken  of  New- 
castle or  Hull ;  sometimes  the  mere  fashion- 
ableness  of  a  place  has  prompted  a  notice, 
yet  not  a  word  have  we  of  Brighton  or 
Cheltenham.  In  Scotland  the  author  finds 
only  four,  and  all  in  the  south,  and  five  in 
Ireland.  In  the  Netherlands,  sixteen  are 
described ;  in  France  eleven,  but  no  notice 
of  Toulon,  Bayonne,  Brest,  Dieppe,  Nantes, 
Pau,  Metz ;  and  in  Spain  thirteen,  but  not 
a  word  of  Xerez,  Valencia,  Valladolid,  Tar- 
ragona, &c. 

The  wood-cuts,  of  which  there  are  a  great 
number,  are  many  of  them  clever  and  com- 
petent sketches;  but  others  are  miserable 
even  in  design,  and  generally  in  point  of 
execution  below,  if  not  the  promise,  yet  cer- 
tainly the  style  of  neatness  with  which  the 
book  is  in  other  respects  got  up.  The  view 
of  London  is  pitiful ;  and  Canterbury  Ca- 
thedral, that  magnificent  structure,  is  dwindled 
to  a  parish  church  ;  and  the  crows  that  cluster 
round  Bell-Harry  Steeple  only  make  the 
matter  more  contemptible.  King's  College, 
Cambridge,  looks  like  a  card-rack,  or  a  toy, 
cut  in  papier  machie ;  and  Warwick  Castle 
is  shorn  of  all  its  strength :  the  view  should 
have  been  taken  from  the  bridge,  or  some 
part  of  the  river.  Some  few  are  very  taste- 
fully drawn,  such  as  Bath.  The  Nether- 
lands are  generally  fair  ;  but  the  best  things 
are  among  the  Spanish  buildings. 

The  textual  descriptions  are  respectable : 
the  whole  is  mere  outline,  but  more  could 
not  be  accomplished  within  the  limits,  and 
more,  perhaps,  is  not  desired. 

Family  Library,  Vol.  XIII.  ;  Cunning- 
ham's Lives  of  Artists,  Vol.  III. — Mr. 
Cunningham's  are  by  far  the  most  welcome 
volumes  which  the  Family  Library  has  hither- 
to produced.  More,  we  hope,  will  follow, 
though  three  was  the  limit  announced.  We 
have  as  yet  had  no  architects,  and  may,  there- 
fore, look  for  a  fourth.  The  nine  sculptors, 
whose  biography  fills  the  present  volume, 
have  been  selected  mainly  as  presenting  a 
kind  of  historical  sketch  of  the  art  in  this 
country;  but  they  are  also  the  most  di- 
stinguished among  those  of  whom  it  can 
scarcely  be  said  any  have  reached  a  very 
lofty  eminence.  Many  artists  make  excellent 
single  figures,  while  their  groupings  are  al- 
most always  inferior  and  often  execrable.  Alle- 
gories and  personifications,  though  intolerable 
in  statuary,  still  disgrace  our  monumental 
sculpture.  St.  Paul's  is  full  of  the  most 
revolting  absurdities.  Sculptors  are  con- 
tinually forcing  their  art  upon  services  which 


it  cannot  execute.  They  do  not  know  where 
to  stop,  and  seem  absurdly  to  think  what 
painting  can  do,  sculpture  can  do.  It  has  a 
much  narrower  range. 

Grinling  Gibbons  comes  first.  Whether 
Dutch  or  English,  he  was  early  known 
in  England,  but  rather  as  a  carver  than 
a  statuary.  Nothing  has  ever  equalled 
his  fruits,  and  game,  and  flowers,  and 
feathers,  masses  of  which  in  wood  still  sur- 
vive in  some  profusion  at  Chatsworth  and 
Petworth.  The  prevalence  of  Grecian  archi- 
tecture checked  the  career  of  carving  ?  Mr. 
Cunningham  wishes  she  would  cover  her 
nakedness  with  an  ornamental  leaf  or  two. 
At  Whitehall  there  is  a  statue  of  James  1 1. 
from  Gibbons's  chisel  or  his  modelling,  and 
a  bust  in  bronze  of  James  I.,  and  a  very 
noble  one;  that  is,  unlike,  as  Mr.C. remarks, 
the  portraits  of  the  British  "  Solomon ;"  but 
feeble  as  was  Javues  in  character,  he  was  no 
fool.  Of  Gibbons  personally  little  is  known  : 
his  flowing  wig  and  extravagant  cravat  in- 
dicate vanity  enough. 

Of  Cibber,  notwithstanding  the  volubility 
of  his  clever  son  Colley,  not  much  more  is 
known  than  of  Gibbons.  He  was  a  Dane 
by  birth,  and  came  to  this  country,  according 
to  his  son,  some  time  before  the  restoration 
of  Charles  II.  Mr.  Cunningham  says  re- 
volution; but  that  must  be  a  slip  of  the  pen 
or  the  printer.  And  by  the  way  there  are 
many  such.  Archbishop  Tennison  is  printed 
Jamison,andMr.Hope'sAnastasius  is  turned 
into  Athanasius.  After  labouring  at  a  stone- 
cutter's, he  at  length  set  up  for  himself;  and 
at  a  time  when  the  fashion  prevailed  of 
filling  groves  and  lawns  with  satyrs  and  fawns, 
and  gods  and  goddesses,  as  naked  as  they 
were  born,  he  became  a  distinguished  manu- 
facturer of  figures  in  free-stone,  finally,  at 
351.  a  piece,  a  price  with  which  the  artist 
was  well  pleased,  and  proposed  to  maintain. 
These  are  gone  with  the  change  of  tastes ; 
but  some  of  his  statues  made  for  public 
buildings  still  remain — the  kings  to  Charles  1. 
and  Sir  Thomas  Gresham  in  the  Koyal  Ex- 
change.  The  Phoenix  over  the  south  door  of 
St.  Paul's  has  considerable  merit,  and  his 
Madness  and  Melancholy  ;are  of  a  still  higher 
character.  Of  these  well-known  statues,  the 
younger  Bacon  has,  it  seems,  restored  the 
surface.  Mr.  Cunningham  discovered  poetry 
in  them,  he  tells  us,  at  the  first  glance.  When 
he  was  yet  a  stranger  to  sculpture,  he  felt 
the  pathetic  truth  of  the  delineation :  they 
gave  him  his  first  feeling  for  art,  and  led  him 
to  expect  better  sculpture  than  lie  afterwards 
found.  Every  body  remembers  Pope's  lines 
upon  these  «  brainless'  statues,  and  Flaxmau 
depreciates  them  ;  but  public  opinion  bears 
down,  says  the  author,  all  solitary  autho- 
rities, however  eminent,  and  in  this  case  it 
has  been  pretty  strongly  expressed  for  130 
years.  One  of  the  figures  is  said  to  have 
been  taken  from  Cromwell's  giant  porter. 

Roubilliac  was  a  Frenchman,  and  came 
into  England  about  1720.  He  proved  some- 
thing of  a  reformer  in  our  monumental  sculp- 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


113 


ture,  or  rather  he  introduced  a  new  taste,  that 
of  allegorical  personages,  or,  as  Mr.  C.  puts 
it,  poetic  personations  of  sentiment  and  feel- 
ing, which  it  is  now  perhaps  high  time  to  get  rid 
of  again.  His  monuments  in  honour  of  Admiral 
Warren  and  Marshal  Wade,  however  beauti- 
ful in  point  of  workmanship,  are  mere  con- 
ceits of  the  most  contemptible  description. 
His  Trinity  busts  are  among  the  best  of  his 
performances,  but  especially  the  statue  of  Sir 
Isaac  Newton,  in  the  chapel  of  the  same  col- 
lege. The  Shakspeare  now  in  the  British 
Museum  does  not  match  it.  It  was  a  com- 
mission from  Garrick,  who  bargained  with 
the  sculptor  for  a  price  barely  sufficient  to 
cover  the  model  and  the  marble ;  nor  was 
Roubilliac  left  to  his  own  conception.  Gar- 
rick,  it  is  said,  put  himself  into  countenance, 
and  then  into  posture,  and  desired  the 
astonished  sculptor  to  model  away — "  for, 
behold,"  said  he,  ''the  poet  of  Avon."  Rou- 
billiac had  much  of  the  vanity  and  vivacity 
of  his  nation  ;  and  this,  and  his  indulging  in 
the  vagaries  of  enthusiasm,  occasioned  many 
curious  little  anecdotes,  which  Mr.  C.  de- 
lights to  retail. 

Wilton,  undoubtedly  an  Englishman,  was 
born  in  17^2;  and  though  educated  in  Bra- 
bant, Paris,  and  Rome,  with  every  advan- 
tage of  professional  instruction,  turned  out 
but  a  one-eyed  monarch  among  the  blind. 
His  independent  circumstances  enabled  him 
to  resist  the  control  of  architects,  who  before 
tyrannised  over  sculptors;  but  the  emancipa- 
tion gave  no  buoyancy  to  the  leaden  wings  of 
his  genius.  Some  copies  of  the  antique 
showed  he  could  copy  ;  but  the  best  speci- 
men of  his  own  productions  is  Wolfe's  monu- 
ment in WestminsterAbbey,with  lions  below 
and  angels  above,  &c.  He  was  a  very  success- 
ful man,  gave  good  dinners,  and  was  highly 
respected.  His  beautiful  daughter  became 
the  celebrated  Lady  Chambers. 

Banks  was  born  in  1735,  and  was  a  man  of 
a  higher  order.  He  had  genius  and  poetry  in 
him,  and  made,  as  usual,  but  a  very  indiffer- 
ent man  of  business.  The  royal  academy, 
then  recently  instituted,  sent  him  to  Rome 
with  50/.  a-year,  and  there  it  was  he  executed 
his  exquisite  figure  of  Love  pursuing  a  butter- 
fly. In  pursuit  of  patronage,  which  he  did 
not  find  at  home,  he  went,  when  fifty  years 
of  age,  to  Russia,  where  he  met  with  nothing 
but  disappointment.  The  empress  gave  him 
a  subject — the  armed  neutrality !  when  he 
was  thinking  of  nothing  but  Homer's  heroes. 
He  soon  left  Russia,  probably  expecting, 
says  Mr.  C.,  to  be  called  upon  to  do  into 
stone  the  last  treaty  with  the  Turk.  Return- 
ing to  London,  he  modelled  his  Mourning 
Achilles,  which  was  smashed  to  atoms  by 
the  overturn  of  a  waggon,  but  afterwards  put 
together  again,  and  now  stands  in  the  en- 
trance of  the  British  Institution.  In  the  lat- 
ter years  of  his  life,  he  was  very  much  with 
Mr.  Johnes  at  Hafod,  and  some  of  his  most 
beautiful  pieces  perished  in  the  destruction 
of  that  building  a  few  years  ago.  Banks 
was  the  first  English  sculptor  who  gave  him- 

M.M.  New  Scries — VOL.  X.  No.  55. 


self  up  soul  and  body  to  classic  subjects. 
That  he  felt  poetically,  the  results  prove ; 
but  his  cold  description  of  the  Venus  de 
Medici  contrasts  curiously  with  his  own 
glowing  executions.  His  daughter,  Mrs. 
Forster,  is  still  living,  and  has  written  a  very 
agreeable  account  of  her  amiable  father. 

Nollekens's  life  is  made  up  of  Smith's 
"ungentle"  memoirs;  but  though  a  little 
softened  in  the  detail,  the  effect  remains  pretty 
much  the  same.  Nollekens  was  a  mere 
matter-of-fact  copier :  he  had  an  eye  for 
living  forms,  and  copied  them  faithfully. 

Bacon,  though  a  self-educated  man,  was 
thoroughly  a  mechanical  sculptor.  His  in- 
ventiveness was  shown  in  mechanical  matters, 
in  improving  the  "pointing-machine,"  by 
which  the  figure  of  the  model  is  transferred 
to  stone  with  an  accuracy  before  scarcely  con- 
cevable,  though  his  machine  has  been  still 
farther  improved  by  Chantrey. 

To  enrol  Mrs.  Darner  in  the  list  of  di- 
stinguished and  executive  artists  is  merely  a 
compliment  Her  vanity,  says  Mr.  C.,  led 
her  into  the  labyrinth  of  art :  pride  forbade 
her  to  retreat ;  but  the  fortitude  of  her  perse- 
verance cannot  be  too  much  admired.  The 
memoir  is  a  very  agreeable  one ;  though  but 
an  indifferent  artist,  her  beauty,  talents,  and 
spirit,  with  her  rank  and  wealth,  make  her  a 
singularly  interesting  person. 

But  the  chef-d'o2iivre  of  the  volume  is 
Flaxman's  life.  Mr.  C.  estimates  him  very 
high  as  an  artist ;  something  above  the  mark, 
we  think:  but  we  have  not  space  for  another 
word. 

The  True  Plan  of  a  Living  Temple.  By 
the  Author  of  Farewell  to  Time,  $c.  3  vols. 
12mo. — With  a  fixed  conviction  that  we  are 
destined  for  a  consecutive  and  superior  state 
of  existence,  the  purpose  of  the  very  earnest 
and  eloquent  author  of  these  volumes  of 
enlightened  devotion  is  to  determine  in  what 
light  we  should  regard  the  occupations  and 
pursuits  of  this  life.  Strange  notions  on 
these  matters  seem  everywhere  prevalent. 
In  the  minds  of  the  most  serious,  there  is  a 
perpetual  struggle  between  the  interests  of 
this  world  and  the  next — forced  by  inevitable 
circumstances  to  attend  to  what  is  before 
them — bound  by  the  most  imperative  obliga- 
tions to  regard  what  is  in  expectation,  and  all 
the  while  distrusting  the  compatibility  of  the 
two.  These  notions  and  suspicions  are  en- 
forced by  divines  and  moralists.  Listen  to 
them — and  it  must  puzzle  the  acutest  of  us  to 
discover  what  we  are  here  for  at  all,  if  we  are 
to  separate  ourselves  from  that  into  which  we 
find  ourselves  plunged,  and  from  which  we 
cannot,  while  we  stay,  escape.  In  the  mind 
of  the  author,  they  teach  what  is  wholly  alien 
from  the  doctrines  of  Christianity.  They  mis- 
represent the  matter  miserably ;  as  if,  in  fact, 
Christ  proposed  to  withdraw  men's  affec- 
tions from  earth  to  heaven,  while,  all  along, 
his  object  was,  and  it  is  his  language  too, 
rather  to  bring  down  heaven  upon  earth — 
not  to  teach  them  to  betake  themselves,  in 

P 


114 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[JULY, 


imagination,  to  heaven,  but  to  aid  in  spread- 
ing it,  in  reality,  upon  earth.  The  "  king- 
dom  of  heaven"  was  perpetually  in  his  mouth 
— it  was  the  eternal  subject  of  his  discourses. 
What  this  kingdom  of  heaven  then  means, 
forms  the  first  grand  division  of  the  author's 
inquiry.  It  is  the  reign  of  knowledge,  vir- 
tue, freedom,  concord,  order,  and  happiness ; 
and  we  must  frankly  confess  we  have  never 
seen  the  matter  so  eloquently,  and  we  may 
say  so  philosophically  developed.  This  is 
a  kingdom  peculiar  to  no  time  or  country. 
The  qualities  which  characterize  it  have  al- 
ways been  visible,  more  or  less,  as  long  as  man 
has  existed:  they  have  even  predominated, 
in  spite  of  the  reign  of  darkness  in  all  its 
hateful  forms.  The  appearance  of  Christ 
was  more  to  extend  the  limits  of  this  king- 
dom than  to  found  it,  and  especially  to  con- 
nect it  with  our  after- existence. 

As  Christians  we  are,  perhaps,  in  an  espe- 
cial manner,  subjects  of  this  kingdom ;  and 
the  author's  next  effort  is  directed  to  ascertain 
what  is  the  object  proposed  to  us  as  subjects 
of  this  kingdom.  Heaven  upon  earth,  and 
heaven  above  the  earth,  are  but  two  states, 
two  aspects  of  the  same  thing — they  are  but 
different  evolutions  of  one  universal  scheme. 
To  talk  of  their  interests,  then,  being  in- 
compatible, is  idle,  and  the  old  and  ineffective 
representations  are  no  longer  receivable.  A 
new  turn  is  given  to  the  whole  matter ;  and 
we  no  longer  fly  from  the  world,  in  terror  of 
corruption,  but  to  it,  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
moting, by  all  our  energies,  the  extension  of 
God's  kingdom — in  other  words,  to  cultivate 
and  spread  knowledge,  virtue,  freedom,  and 
felicity.  Perfection,  accordingly,  is  the  ob- 
ject proposed  to  us  as  the  business  and  duty 
of  loyal  subjects  of  this  spiritual  kingdom — 
the  object  to  be  steadily  and  heartily  aimed 
at ;  not  perfection  in  an  absolute  sense,  for 
such  a  notion  is  absurd,  because  impracti- 
cable in  fact;  but  rather,  as  the  author  ex- 
presses it,  perfecting;  by  which  he  means  a 
perpetual  improving,  without  the  p-  ssibility 
of  exhausting  the  resources  of  improvement. 

Though  partly  implied  in  the  preceding 
division,  the  author's  third  effort  is  to  inquire 
into  the  best  means  of  accomplishing  the  ob- 
ject thus  proposed  to  us  as  subjects  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  These  are  to  raise  in 
our  minds  to  the  highest  the  standard  of  ex- 
cellence— to  encourage  the  most  exalted  no- 
tions of  moral  beauty — to  take  care  that,  in 
thus  elevating  our  standard,  we  do  not  get 
into  the  regions  of  fancy,  and  lose  sight  of  a 
practical  reference  to  the  business  of  life — to 
keep  a  strict  eye  and  close  vigilance  upon  the 
smaller  duties — to  suffer  nothing,  in  short, 
to  escape  our  own  observance— do  nothing 
by  mere  habit,  but  all  with  a  view  to  the  fur- 
therance of  the  great  interests  of  God's  king- 
dom. In  his  fourth  division,  he  throws  a 
rapid  glance  over  what  he  terms  a  good  life 
— the  life  to  be  pursued,  that  is,  ol'  course, 
by  a  subject  of  this  kingdom,  who  has  ascer- 
tained his  position  and  his  point,  and  the  best 
means  of  accomplishing  it.  It  consists  of 


maxims  and  rules  of  a  general  cast,  and  for 
general  situations,  without  any  minutiae,  or 
any  attempt  at  individualizing.  The  differ- 
ence between  this  and  the  preceding  division 
is  that  which  is  discernible  between  pointing 
out  the  path  which  must  be  followed,  and 
giving  such  directions  as  will  enable  the  per- 
son who  enters  upon  it  to  pursue  it  with 
steadiness  and  success. 

We  can  do  no  more  than  give  this  bare 
and  most  imperfect  outline  of  the  author's 
views.  Nothing  short  of  copious  extracts 
could  present  an  adequate  notion  of  the  large 
and  catholic  views  of  the  work — the  original 
and  independent  conceptions — the  preterition 
of  technicalities — the  intensity  of  feeling — the 
fervour  of  eloquence,  not  flighty  and  flashy, 
but  full  and  argumentative — and  the  deep 
sincerity,  and  conviction  that  pervades  every 
page  of  these  earnest  effusions.  The  sharp 
eyes  of  an  orthodox  divine  will  readily  detect 
a  good  deal  of  what  sounds  latitudinarily ; 
but  the  author  is  obviously  one  who  is  little 
inclined  to  respect  artificial  creeds  and  exclu- 
sive articles :  he  looks  for  the  spirit  of  the 
question,  and  seems  to  have  found  it.  The 
writer  is  well  read  in  German  divines,  espe- 
cially of  the  school  of  Reinhard  ;  and  has 
successfully  learnt,  from  Brown,  to  distrust 
abstractions,  and  renounce  superfluous  di- 
stinctions. 

The  Executor's  Account-Book.  By  John 
H.  Brady.  -  Mr.  Brady  is  the  author  of  two 
very  useful  little  books  relative  to  the  con- 
struction of  wills,  and  the  execution  of  them. 
The  present  publication  contains  a  set  of  for- 
mulae, constituting  itself  an  account-book  for 
keeping  the  accounts  of  executorships  in  an 
intelligible  form,and  what  is  of  still  greater  im- 
portance, in  a  form  precise  and  specific  enough 
to  satisfy  the  courts  on  the  one  hand,  and 
heirs  and  legatees  on  the  other.  The  im- 
portance of  keeping  such  accounts  with  the 
most  scrupulous  care,  every  body  who  has 
had  any  concern  with  such  matters  must 
feel  at  once ;  and  instances  are  not  of  rare 
occurrence,  where  not  only  executors  them- 
selves, but  their  executors  also,  have  been 
involved  in  inextricable  difficulties,  proceed- 
ing from  a  negligence  in  this  respect. 

Leigh's  Guide  to  the  Lakes  of  Westmore- 
land, Cumberland,  and  Lancashire — Every 
tourist  finds  a  manual  of  this  kind  indis- 
pensable in  his  route.  It  supplies,  to  a 
thousand  questions,  answers  which  it  is  ex- 
tremely difficult  to  obtain  orally  from  the 
most  observant  of  our  friends.  Not  to  say 
it  must  often  happen,  that  those  who  can 
furnish  particulars  are  not  always  at  hand 
just  when  they  are  wanted ;  whilst  numbers 
equally  desirous  of  information,  have  no  ac- 
quaintance, with  the  requisite  knowledge,  to 
apply  to  at  all.  But  a  local  guide  of  this 
kind  supplies  at  once,  all  we  want ;  and  more 
completely,  than  on  the  most  favourably  sup- 
positions, is  likely  to  be  gained  from  the  re- 
collections of  friends  and  visitors ;  and,  more- 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


115 


over,  if  the  memory  fails,  after  communica- 
tion, the  book  will  refresh  it,  and  not  complain 
of  importunity.  Mr.  Leigh's  competent 
little  volume  has  a  general  map  of  the  coun- 
try on  a  considerable  scale,  and  particular 
maps  of  the  lakes,  an  inch  to  a  mile.  The 
topographic  details  contain  ample  accounts 
of  the  neighbourhood,  with  distances,  bear- 
ings, places  of  accommodation,  &c.  with  all 
due  precision. 

The  Villa  and  Cottage  FJorisfs  Directory, 
ly  James  Main,  H.L.  S. — Mr.  Main  ap- 
peals to  the  experience  of  fifty  years  spent  in 
the  cultivation  of  flowers  as  some  warrant  of 
ability  for  accomplishing  the  task  he  has  un- 
dertaken— to  construct  a  Florist's  Directory. 
This  is  fair  presumption  enough,  supposing 
this  fifty  years'  experience  to  have  been,  also, 
on  an  extensive  scale  ;  but  the  logic  of  the 
next  ground  of  reliance  is  not  so  intelligible. 
It  is  impossible,  he  says,  that  he  should 
have  been  contemporary  with  a  Maddock, 
a  Hogg,. a  Sweet,  and  many  other  eminent 
florists,  without  knowing  something  of  the 
art.  Why,  we  ourselves  have  been  contem- 
porary with  these  same  eminent  florists, 
without  gathering  an  atom  of  this  kind  of 
knowledge.  A  third  ground  of  self-recom- 
mendation is  still  less  conclusive — where,  he 
adds,  if  his  own  knowledge  or  practice  may 
be  defective  or  confined,  at  least  his  judg- 
ment will  enable  him  to  recommend  with 
safety,  and  direct  with  propriety.  Mr.  Main, 
to  be  sure,  is  one  of  the  drollest  reasoners  we 
remember  to  have  met  with.  Floriculture, 
says  he,  has  become  the  study  and  amuse- 
ment of  all  ranks,  because  it  embellishes 
the  dwellings  of  the  rich  and  great,  and 
forms  the  gayest  ornament  of  the  villa — -be- 
cause, again,  it  receives  the  regard  and  em- 
ploys the  pencils  of  the  most  refined  and 
fairest  of  nature's  -works ;  and,  most  of  all,  be- 
cause it  decorates,  while  it  endears,  the  poor 
man's  cottage.  The  poor  man's  cottage ! 
and  this  in  our  days  !  But  Mr.  M.,  though  no 
logician,  may  be  a  very  good  florist,  and 
often,  we  observe,  gives  very  intelligible  direc- 
tions, though  he  is  terribly  given  to  mixing 
them  up  with  what  he  doubtless  considers 
to  be  philosophy  ;  and  we  see  how  closely 
he  can  reason.  Our  eye  has  just  caught  the 
following  morceau.  He  is  speaking  of  poly- 
anthuses. Dutchmen,  says  he,  are  less  tender 
of  foliage  than  we  are  ;  nor  do  they  seem  to 
attribute  to  the  leaves  that  peculiar  function 
which  is  given  them  by  the  botanical  phy- 
-siologists  of  this  country.  Perhaps  certain 
ideas,  like  diseases,  are  cndemical,  &c.  This 
is  fearfully  profound.  Does  Mr.  M.  really 
think  the  Dutch  do  not  know  as  much  about 
the  physiology  of  plants  as  the  English  ? 

Philosophical  Problems,  ly  Miles  Bland, 
D.  D.  fyc. — A  vast  collection,  consisting  of 
some  thousands  of  problems  on  the  different 
branches  of  philosophy,  adapted  to  the  course 
of  reading  pursued  in  the  University  of 
Cambridge  ; — or,  more  specifically,  in  tri- 


gonometry, hydrostatics,  optics,  Newton's 
Principia,  and  astronomy.  A  small  volume 
of  Mechanical  Problems  was  published  some 
time  ago  by  Dr.  Bland.  Those  were,  the 
greater  part,  if  not  all  of  them,  accompanied 
with  solutions.  The  present  volume  is  left 
wholly  without  any  thing  of  the  kind,  from 
the  conviction  Dr.  Bland  feels,  confirmed  by 
a  judicious  and  able  tutor  still  residing  at 
Cambridge,  that  the  problems  will  be  of 
greater  service  to  the  students  in  the  present 
form.  We  cannot  think  so.  It  may  seem 
presumption  to  differ  from  such  experienced 
persons ;  but  we  must  still  believe,  if  some 
of  each  section,  suppose  a  third,  had  been 
accompanied  with  solutions,  and  the  results 
of  others  appended,  with  occasional  refer- 
ences to  principles  in  established  works,  the 
book  would  have  carried  with  it  something 
like  practical  utility,  not  only  for  students 
in  Cambridge,  but  out  of  it ;  and  now  it 
has  none.  We  never  saw  anything  so  arid 
and  bare. 

A  Short  Treatise  on  the  Liabilities  of 
Trustees,  §c.  ly  Sir  G.  F.  Hampson,  Bart, 
— Considering  how  very  large  a  part  of  the 
property,  which  is  disposed  of  in  this  country 
by  deed  or  will  is  placed  under  the  control 
of  trustees,  it  is  of  considerable  importance 
that  the  liabilities  to  which  they  are  exposed 
should  be  distinctly  and  generally  understood. 
The  office  is  no  desirable  one,  though  it  is 
often,  obviously,  both  conferred  and  accepted 
as  a  compliment ;  often  requested  on  the  one 
hand  without  regard  totheonus  itimposesand 
the  embarrassments  it  involves,  and  under- 
taken on  the  other  with  little  thought  or  an- 
ticipation of  the  trouble  and  peril  likely  to 
be  incurred.  For  the  most  part  it  is  thought 
to  be  mere  matter  of  form  ;  or  at  all  events 
a  lawyer  is  always  at  hand,  and  the  estate 
must  pay  ;  and  especially  if  a  lawyer  be  a 
co-trustee  no  harm  can  follow.  But  the 
fact  is,  the  liabilities  are  very  great  and  even 
precarious,  notwithstanding  the  protection  of 
the  courts :  neglects  are  easily  incurred,  and 
followed  by  fatal  responsibilities ;  and  even 
where  they  are  not  so  alarming,  unpleasant 
bills  of  costs  often  surprise  the  unwitting 
offender.  The  object  of  Sir  G.  Hampson's 
treatise — it  is  a  corrected  and  enlarged  edition 
of  his  old  work — is  not  to  alarm  and  deter 
from  the  acceptance  of  an  office  sometimes 
of  great  family  importance;  but  only  to  place 
trustees  upon  their  guard  by  pointing  out 
these  dangers  and  duties — to  keep  them,  in 
short,  out  of  scrapes. 

A  still  more  valuable  service,  but  one  not 
to  be  expected  from  the  profession,  would  be 
to  expose  the  absurdity  of  the  growing  practice 
of  placing  property  under  trust.  In  nume- 
rous instances  it  is  done  from  mere  fashion ; 
it  sounds  loftily  and  gives  importance.  In 
three  cases  out  of  four,  perhaps,  in  these  latter 
days,  it  is  at  best  superfluous ;  and  is  then 
calculated  for  nothing  but  to  make  work  for 
lawyers,  and  to  plague  families  by  giving 
thena  masters. 

P  2 


116 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature. 


The  Doom  ofDcvorgoil  and  the  Ayrshire 
Tragedy ;  a  Melodrama  and  a  Tragedy,  by 
Sir  W.  Scott,  JBart.—An  old  lord  of  Devor- 
goil  had  ravaged  the  lands  of  Algionby,  in 
Cumberland,  and  encountering  a  storm  on 
his  return,  threw  the  miserable  captives  over- 
board to  save  the  more  valuable  treasure. 
Though  this  same  lord,  apparently,  died 
quietly  in  his  bed,  the  deed  of  atrocity 
brought  a  curse  upon  his  house,  and  the 
grandson,  at  the  period  of  the  drama,  was 
sunk  to  the  lowest  pitch  of  sordid  poverty.  A 
prophecy  was,  however,  still  to  be  fulfilled — 
the  suit  of  armour  which  the  guilty  perpetrator 
wore  at  the  time  was  to  drop  from  the  wall,  on 
which  it  had  hung  fifty  years,  the  "  night 
when  Devorgoil's  feast  was  full."  Feasting 
had  long  been  a  stranger  at  the  Hall,  and 
the  prophecy  began  to  lose  credit ;  but  the 
fated  night  at  last  came,  and  with  it  unex- 
pected supplies,  and  as  unexpected  guests. 
During  the  unusual  feast,  a  flash  of  light- 
ning strikes  the  armour,  and  down  it  drops, 
and  discovers  a  scroll  which  bids  them, 

Should  Black  Erick's  armour  fall, 
Look  for  guests  shall  scare  them  all. 

The  ragged  chief,  accordingly,  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  family  sit  up  to  await 
the  coming  of  these  awful  guests ;  but  others 
go  to  bed,  and  among  them  a  goose  of  a 
priest,  who  is  conducted  to  a  chamber, 
which  has  the  reputation  of  being  haunted, 
and  left  to  his  fate.  In  the  meanwhile  some 
of  the  under  agents  of  the  melodrama  get  up 
a  little  ghost  scene  to  plague  the  unlucky 
parson ;  but  scarcely  had  these  frolicksome 
persons  played  off  their  trick,  when  the  real 
goblins  appear — to  execute  the  doom  of 
Devorgoil.  This,  from  the  firmness  of  the 
lord,  does  not  prove  a  very  formidable  one. 
The  stolen  treasures  had  been  all  buried,  and 
by  the  aid  of  some  elaborate  machinery, 
they  are  all  laid  bare,  and,  finally,  clutched 
— poetical  justice  being  fully  satisfied  by  a 
marriage  between  Devorgoil's  daughter  and 
Algionby's  heir,  who  figuresvon  the  scene  as 
a  deer-keeper,  and  capital  shot. 

The  piece  was  written  to  oblige  Sir 
Walter's  friend,  Mr.  Terry,  of  the  Adelphi; 
but  the  mixture  of  mimic  and  genuine 
goblins,  it  seems,  was  found  objectionable, 
and  the  play  was  never  subjected  to  the 
stage  ordeal,  which,  it  was  foreseen,  it  never 
could  sustain — not  for  the  reason  alleged, 
for  that  is  obviously  worth  nothing  — scores 
of  more  incongruous  things  succeed  to  admi- 
ration— but  for  the  want  of  dramatic  point. 
It  has  neither  incident  nor  character  suffici- 
ently marked  to  fix  attention  ;  the  humour 
wants  smartness,  and  the  sentiments  excite 


no  sympathy.  The  proud  chief  was  in  rags, 
and  starving  himself  and  his  family,  and 
was  doing  nothing  to  relieve  the  common 
misery,  but  whining  or  storming.  Not  a 
gleam  of  the  author's  genius  illumines  a  line 
of  it  except,  perhaps,  this  morceau. 

"  I  know,  that  minds 
Of  nobler  stamp  receive  no  dealer  motive 
Than  what  is  link'd  with  honour.    Ribands,  tas- 
sels— 

Which  are  but  shreds  of  silk  and  spangled  tinsel — 
The  right  of  place,  which  in  itself  is  momentary— 
A  word,  which  is  but  air — may  in  themselves. 
And  to  the  nobler  file,  be  steeped  so  richly 
In  that  elixir,  honour,  that  the  lack 
Of  things  so  very  trivial  in  themselves 
Shall  be  misfortune.    One  shall  seek  for  them 
O'er  the  wild  waves — one  in  the  deadly  breach 
And  battle's  headlong  front — one  in  the  paths 
Of  midnight  study, — and,  in  gaining  these 
Emblems  of  honour,  each  will  hold  himself 
Repaid  for  all  his  labours,  deeds,  and  dangers. 
What  then  should  he  think,  knowing  them  his  own, 
Who  sees  what  warriors  and  what  sages  toil  for, 
The  formal  and  established  marks  of  honour, 
Usurp'd  from  him  by  upstart  insolence  ? 

The  Ayrshire  Tragedy  is  most  revoltingly 
tragical ;  but  calculated  to  illustrate  the 
ferocious  habits  of  the  Scots  of  the  16th 
century.  The  subject  developes  a  deadly 
feud  of  the  most  horrible  description.  These 
things  are  now  over  with  the  Scots ;  but  Sir 
Walter  doubts  if  the  change  among  their 
descendants  be  much  better.  They  of  old 
committed  crimes  for  revenge ;  while  modern 
Scots  are  as  atrocious  for  lucre.  The  loftier, 
if  equally  cruel,  feelings  of  pride,  ambition, 
and  love  of  vengeance,  were  the  idols  of  their 
forefathers,  while  the  caitiffs  of  the  present 
day  bend  to  Mammon,  the  meanest  of  the 
spirits  who  fell.  The  proud  chiefs  of  the 
older  times  do  not,  however,  seem  to  have 
forgotten  the  matter  of  "  lucre." 

It  would  be  difficult,  perhaps,  to  name  a 
successful  play  written  by  a  person  not  in 
some  way  intimately  connected  with  the 
stage.  The  best  plays  from  the  days  of 
Shakspeare  to  Colman  have  been  produced 
by  players  themselves,  or  managers,  or  pro- 
prietors, or  persons  given  up,  almost  soul 
and  body,  to  scenic  amusements.  The 
failures  of  men  of  the  most  eminent  success 
in  other  departments,  and  of  the  most  bril- 
liant abilities,  are  innumerable.  Sir  Walter, 
we  observe,  gives  sundry  minute  directions, 
and  some  suggestions,  for  the  management 
of  scenery,  with  some  hesitation  as  to  the 
possibility — and  all  with  a  ludicrous  unac- 
quaintedness  with  what  has  been  actually 
accomplished  over  and  over  again  at  the 
London  theatres,  and  at  Edinburgh  too,  it 
may  very  well  be  supposed. 


1830.] 


FINE  ARTS'  EXHIBITIONS. 


EXHIBITION     OF     THE     WORKS     OF    SIR 
THOMAS  LAWRENCE. 

THERE  appears  to  be  very  little  difference 
of  opinion  generally  respecting  the  vast  su- 
periority of  the  late  president  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  as  a  portrait  painter,  over  all  his 
contemporaries.  For  while  the  uninitiated 
were  won  by  the  exquisite  taste  with  which 
his  subjects  were  invariably  treated  ;  and  the 
more  fastidious,  by  his  delicate  perception  of 
expression — his  lively,  brilliant  colouring — 
his  careful  and  elegant,  drawing ;  he  dis- 
played in  his  later  works  a  dignity  of  mind, 
and  a  thorough  knowledge  of  his  art,  that 
excited  among  artists  a  feeling  of  respect 
which,  in  some  instances,  amounted  almost 
to  reverence.  At  the  same  time  it  is  difficult 
to  form  a  precise  idea  of  his  degree  of  ex- 
cellence, 'when  compared  with  the  illustrious 
painters  who  lived  before  him,  and  who 
practised  the  same  branch  of  his  art ;  espe- 
cially when  a  comparison  is  provoked  with 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who,  like  Sir  Thomas, 
took  the  lead  of  his  contemporaries  by  in- 
troducing a  new  style  in  portraiture,  creating 
a  school  of  imitators,  and  furnishing  a  model 
for  all  succeeding  artists  to  study  and  to  fol- 
low. A  comparison,  however,  between  these 
two  great  painters  would  lead  us  into  a  defi- 
nition of  the  striking  dissimilarity  that  really 
exists,  rather  than  into  any  points  of  re- 
semblance— which  occur  only  in  the  rela- 
tive situations  of  the  artists,  and  in  the 
effect  they  have  produced  upon  English  art ; 
for  their  styles  are,  in  every  particular,  dia- 
metrically opposed  to  each  other. 

The  difficulty  of  fixing  the  exact  propor- 
tion of  Lawrence's  greatness  is  considerably 
enhanced  at  this  time,  when  his  memory  has 
not  yet  lost  "  all  its  original  brightness"  in 
our  minds,  and  we  are  gazing  in  fondness 
and  enthusiasm  upon  his  works — secretly 
inclined  perhaps  to  raise  him  to  a  level  with 
the  highest  and  the  most  honoured  of  his 
predecessors.  The  smiles  that  give  loveli- 
ness and  life  to  the  features  of  his  female 
portraits,  seem  to  disarm  criticism,  and  to 
plead  with  fame  for  an  unquestioned  perfec- 
tion and  the  praises  that  should  attend  it. 
Satin  dresses  and  jewelled  bracelets,  stars, 
coronets,  and  crowns,  cocked-hats  and  epau- 
lettes, transferred  from  the  "dreary  intercourse 
of  daily  life,"  become  consecrated  relics  of 
art — heir-looms  of  genius.  Submitted  to  the 
alembic  of  his  talent,  and  stamped  by  his 
taste,  princes  and  lords,  however  common- 
place in  themselves,  are  converted  into  ob- 
jects of  general  interest  and  value.  We  are 
dazzled,  when  we  first  glance  round  the 
walls  of  this  gallery,  with  the  trappings  of 
royalty  and  the  glittering  appurtenances  of 
rank,  that  every  where  meet  the  sight;  but 
one  minute's  observation  suffices  to  convince 
us  that  we  are  surrounded  by  sterling  works 
of  art — and  the  delight  we  experience  as  we 


proceed  in  our  discoveries  of  beauty,  is  in 
inverse  proportion  to  tha  fastidious  caution 
with  which  we  commenced  the  investigation. 
The  great  novelty  in  this  interesting  ex- 
hibition is  the  Waterloo  Gallery,  the  prin- 
cipal portraits  in  which  are  his  late  Ma- 
jesty, the  Emperors  of  Austria  and  Russia, 
the  Kings  of  France  and  Prussia,  the  Arch- 
Duke  Charles,  Marshal  Blucher,  the  Het- 
man  Platoff,  Prince  Metternich,  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  Cardinal  Gonsalvi,  and  the  late 
Pope  Pius  the  seventh.  These  pictures  have 
never  been  before  the  public  until  the  pre- 
sent season.  Taken  altogether,  they  display 
greater  power  of  execution  than  any  work  of 
Lawrence  that  we  ever  saw.  Commissioned 
by  the  late  King  to  execute  this  series  of  por- 
traits for  the  gallery  at  Windsor,  Sir  Thomas 
seems  to  have  entered  upon  his  undertaking 
with  a  daring  but  not  a  delusive  ambition. 
At  Paris,  the  mighty  works  in  the  Louvre 
would  challenge  his  utmost  skill  to  competi- 
tion ;  and  whilst  at  his  easel,  in  the  palace 
of  Charles  the  Tenth,  he  would  be  conscious 
of  encountering  the  jealous  criticisms  of  the 
French  cognoscenti— at  Rome  his  energies 
would  be  no  less  aroused  by  the  obvious 
associations  connected  with  that  temple  of 
the  art.  Painting  under  the  eye  of  those 
continental  powers,  in  the  wide  theatre  of  Eu- 
rope, in  the  character  of  P.  R.  A.  and  por- 
trait painter  to  the  King  of  England,  must 
be  a  very  different  thing  to  taking  sittings  in 
Russel-square  of  ladies  and  lions  for  exhibi- 
tion at  Somerset-house.  By  an  ambitious 
man  such  a  trial  would  be  anxiously  desired  ; 
and  whatever  were  the  feelings  with  which 
Lawrence  engaged  in  it,  he  has  passed  the 
ordeal  with  the  highest  honour  both  to  him- 
self and  to  his  country.  Much  as  his  .taste 
has  generally  made  of  English  costume,  it 
is  to  be  regretted — seeing  the  pictures  here 
produced  of  the  Pope  and  the  Cardinal — 
that  he  had  not  more  frequent  opportunities 
of  introducing  into  his  compositions  some- 
thing more  essential  picturesque  than  the 
coats  of  Pall-Mail  and  St.  James'-street. 
The  ladies,  however,  are  safe.  Like  Sir 
Joshua,  Lawrence  converted  a  formal  and 
artificial  vice  into  an  unaffected  and  natural 
grace.  But  the  Cardinal ! — His  left  hand 
rests  upon  a  table,  the  fingers  foreshortened 
towards  the  painter,  who,  with  a  temerity 
only  to  be  found  in  an  English  Protestant 
artist,  puts  it  in  as  it  is — the  grey  tints  and 
blue  veins  are  touched  and  left  unadulterated. 
The  scarlet  robe  is  flung  more  carelessly 
over  the  sacred  shoulders  of  the  Cardinal, 
than  a  Catholic  painter  would  have  dared  to 
imagine.  The  red  cap  is  in  the  right  hand 
resting  on  the  lap.  He  is  sitting.  The  won- 
derful eyes,  black  and  brilliant,  look  into 
you  and  speak — they  animate  all  that  is 
around  them.  The  whole  face  is  lighted  up 
with  a  shrewd,  cunning,  and  in  some  de- 


118 


Fine  Arts'  Exhibitions. 


[JULY, 


gree  hypocritical  expression.  It  is  an  ex- 
traordinary  picture.  'I'hc  Pope,  on  the  other 
hand,  sinks  feebly  into  his  stately  chair; 
and,  with  all  the  attributes  of  decay  stamped 
upon  his  brow,  seems  to  maintain  the  ur- 
banity of  his  nature  and  smiles  on  you  to 
the  last.  What  could  any  one  but  Lawrence 
have  done  with  such  a  man  as  this — and  yet 
what  a  picture  has  he  produced  ! 

Opposite  to  these  stands  Charles  of  France, 
with  his  cocked-hat  on  his  arm,  smiling  and 
chattering  like  a  lacquey  in  a  farce.  This  is 
forcibly  contrasted  with  the  deep,  rich,  quiet 
beauty  of  its  immediate  companion,  the  por- 
trait of  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  one  of  the 
very  finest  of  the  imperial  group — that  of 
Alexander  being  the  worst,  unworthy  alike 
of  the  artist  and  the  autocrat. 

The  other  rooms  are  adorned  with  many 
old  portraits.  The  finest  of  these  are  the 
portraits  of  Lady  A  gar  Ellis  and  her  son, 
Miss  Croker,  the  Marchioness  of  London- 
derry, the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  Lord 
Liverpool,  Master  Lambton,  and — "  the 
greatest  is  behind" — Lady  Gower;  which  is 
beyond  all  comparison  the  highest  achieve- 
ment of  Lawrence  in  female  portraiture.  He 
has  in  this  picture  gone  far  beyond  the  mere 
display  of  vulgar  and  uninspired  beauty, 
and  has  realized  the  poetry  of  domestic  life. 
In  Canning's  portrait,  with  the  arm  extended 
as  if  in  the  energy  of  eloquent  denunciation, 
Lawrence  has  attempted  a  very  peculiar 
illustration  of  character ;  but,  through  well 
drawn,  it  is  not  a  pleasing  picture.  In  the 
first  place,  a  figure  in  action  requires  the 
presence  of  other  figures  to  account  for  its 
position;  and  in  the  next,  the  expression 
and  the  attitude  are  utterly  at  variance — the 
one  being  all  energy,  the  other  all  repose  and 
placidity. 

Of  the  large  picture  of  Satan,  the  only 
great  effort  of  Lawrence  in  historic  design, 
we  do  not  think  very  highly.  The  exquisite 
taste  with  which  the  artist  so  skilfully 
handled  the  materials  found  in  the  palace 
and  the  drawing-room,  was  utterly  useless 
when  required  to  exert  itself  in  the  wild 
region  of  poetry,  and  grapple  with  the  colos- 
sal forms  of  Milton's  imagination.  Law- 
rence could  only  seek  for  assistance  in  the 
plaster-rooms  at  the  academy  ;  beyond  these, 
except  in  dimensions,  his  poetic  fervour  has 
not  carried  him  far.  It  may,  however,  be 
regarded  as  a  glorious  promise,  an  omen  of 
might — for  it  is  comparatively  an  early  work. 
It  is  well  for  certain  ladies,  whatever  it  may 
be  for  the  world,  that  the  great  portrait- 
painter  was  not  encouraged  to  proceed  in 
poetical  design.  Instead  of  giving,  in  Pope's 
phrase,  "  dross  to  duchesses,"  he  has  clothed 
them  in  living  gold,  and- covered  them  with 
immortality. 

EXHIBITION  OF  THE  SOCIETY  OF  PAIN- 
TERS IN  WATER  COLOUR. 

We  take  censure  to  ourselves  for  omitting 
to  notice  this  exhibition  until  it  is  just  on  the 
point  of  being  closed  ;  and  the  more  so,  be- 


cause we  invariably  see  it  with  more  un- 
mixed pleasure  and  a  purer  sense  of  satisfac- 
tion than  any  other.  One  cause  of  this,  per- 
haps, is,  that  it  is  so  entirely  and  essentially 
English  in  its  character — that  it  is  some- 
thing peculiar  to  itself,  and  has  no  parallel ; 
and  unquestionably  another  cause  is  to  be 
traced  to  the  fact  that,  in  this  collection, 
there  are  no  bad  pictures — no  miserable 
make-weights.  If  there  'is  not  an  equal  de- 
gree of  excellence  in  all,  there  is  something 
in  every  picture  which  the  eye  of  taste  will 
discern  as  worthy  of  admiration  and  encou- 
ragement. 

We  can  r.ow  afford  but  a  very  hasty  view 
of  them.  Prout  has  first  caught  our  eye. 
His  contributions  this  year  are  not  so  nume- 
rous, but  they  are  quite  as  excellent  as  upon 
former  occasions.  One  picture  of  his — the 
Ducal  Palace  at  Venice — is  a  most  rich  and 
lovely  composition.  It  would  require  a  vo- 
lume to  do  justice  to  Copley  Fielding,  whose 
pictures  would  alone  form  an  exhibition  of 
no  mean  attraction  ;  we  cannot  even  enume- 
rate a  tenth  part  of  them — perhaps  we  prefer 
(for  it  is  very  difficult  to  choose)  No.  64,  a 
Gale  coming  on  at  S^a — and  No.  38,  Nau- 
sica  and  her  attendants — the  one  for  its  wild, 
natural  effect,  and  its  beautiful  back-ground 
— and  the  other  for  the  classical  spirit  and 
grandeur  that  pervade  it. — The  Misses 
Sharpe  have  several  very  exquisite  pictures. 
In  Miss  E.  Sharpe's  73,  the  children — two 
repeating  their  prayers  and  one  on  the  lap  of 
its  mother — are  painted  with  extreme  feeling 
and  delicacy ;  while  in  the  scene  from  the 
Vicar  of  Wakefield,  by  Miss  L.  Sharpe,  we 
were  charmed  with  the  free,  fresh  and  grace- 
ful beauty  that  is  thrown  over  our  favourites. 
We  like  the  colouring,  the  composition,  and 
some  of  the  characters — those  of  the  "  ladies 
from  town"  especially.  Barret  again  has 
several  pictures,  all  of  them  faithful  yet  poe- 
tical transcripts  of  nature.  His  twilights  are 
the  very  creations  of  truth— yet  they  realize 
the  loveliest  dreams  of  fiction.  Dewint  has 
also  some  fine  performances — finer  perhaps 
than  usual ;  the  Views  of  Lincoln  awaken  a 
recollection  of  the  old  fable  of  the  devil  look- 
ing over  that  celebrated  city  :  we  can  ad- 
mire his  taste,  and  we  wish  he  could  see  Mr. 
Dewint's  landscapes.  Robson,  Hunt,  Hard- 
ing, and  Varley,  have  each  their  share  of 
beauties ;  more  indeed  than  we  can  particu- 
larize. Cattermole  also  stands  conspicuous 
for  his  gloomy,  but  in  some  respects  grand 
and  powerful  sketches ;  his  scene  from  the 
Merchant  of  Venice  is  an  extravagant  but  a 
clever  composition.  We  were  much  pleased 
likewise  with  some  graceful  and  spirited  pic- 
tures by  Stephanoff.  The  collection  al- 
together this  year  is  calculated  to  advance 
the  taste  for  this  branch  of  art,  and  is  wor- 
thy of  its  predecessors. 

WORKS    OF    ART. 

A  Cameo  enamel  of  George  IV.  has  made 
its  appearance,  under  the  immediate  patron- 
age of  their  Royal  Highnesses  the  Duchess 


1830.] 


Fine  Arts'  Exhibitions. 


119 


of  Gloucester  and  the  Princess  Augusta.  It 
is  the  production  of  the  late  Mr.  Brown 
(whose  talents  as  a  gem  sculptor  were  so  pre- 
eminently acknowledged  by  his  Britannic 
Majesty  George  II  I.  and  the  Courts  of  France 
and  Russia),  and  is  in  the  possession  of  his 
daughter,  Miss  L.  H.  Brown,  No.  15,  Upper 
Frederick-street,  Connanght-square,  where 
alone  applications  for  it  may  be  made ;  and 
where,  also,  may  be  seen  casts  from  the  gems, 
as  stated  to  be  placed  in  the  cabinets  of  the 
different  courts  of  Europe. — It  is  an  elegant 
bijou,  and  may  be  appropriated  either  in  ca- 
meo or  intaglio,  for  brooches,  and  other  or- 
naments in  dress;  or  as  a  portrait  elegantly 
mounted. 

FINE    ARTS    PUBLICATIONS. 

Landscape  Illustrations  of  the  Waverley 
Novels. — Part  II, — This  work,  if  completed 
as  it  has  been  begun,  will  be  worth  all  the  mis- 
called illustrations  of  the  Waverley  novels  that 
have  hitherto  appeared.  It  is  curious  how,  in 
some  of  these  latter,  the  artists  have  avoided 
every  thing  like  an  approach  to  delineation 
of  character.  They  have  made  some  of  the 
most  mysterious  mistakes  in  the  world  ; 
never  by  any  chance,  or  in  any  one  instance, 
happening  to  hit  upon  an  expression  that 
could  be  considered  as  applicable  to  the  text. 
Jt  is  a  pity  that  they  were  not  published  as 
illustrations  of  Paradise  Lost,  or  Don  Quixote. 
This  work  is  introduced  by  a  host  of  names 
that,  as  far  as  names  go,  will  ensure  it  suc- 
cess. We  find  among  them  Barret,  Daniel, 
Dewint,  Copley  Fielding,  Prout,  and  Stan- 
deld — the  engravings  being  executed  by  the 


two  Findens.  Of  the  four  views  here  pub- 
lished— Skiddaw  and  Keswick,  Dunnottar 
Castle,  Loch-Ard,  and  the  Waste  of  Cum- 
berland— we  prefer  Lock-Ard  for  its  extreme 
softness  and  delicacy  ;  but  they  are  all  bril- 
liantly executed,  and  of  a  convenient  size ; 
so  that  these  illustrations  may  really  be 
regarded  as  ornamental  to  a  volume,  instead 
of  being,  as  most  of  the  others  are,  a  pre- 
tended decoration  and  a  positive  deformity. 
The  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  numbers  of 
the  National  Portrait  Gallery  of  Illustri- 
ous and,  Eminent  Personages  of  the  Nine- 
tecnth  Century,  are  before  us  :  the  one  con- 
taining portraits  and  biographical  notices  of 
Mr.  Canning,  Mr.  Davies  Gilbert,  and  Lord 
Whitworth,  and  the  other  of  Sir  Thomas 
Munro,  Lord  Verulam,  and  the  Bishop  of 
Norwich.  We  cannot  but  think  that  the 
mode  in  which  the  living  and  the  dead  are 
here  mixed  up  together  is  objectionable,  and 
detracts  in  some  degree  from  the  value  of  the 
work.  For  instance,  Mr.  Canning's  bio- 
graphy is  complete ;  but  Mr.  Daviss  Gilbert 
lives,  "  a  prosperous  gentleman  ;"  and  the 
world,  if  it  require  any,  will  require  a  com- 
plete memoir  of  him  at  a  future  time.  The 
lives  of  the  living  personages  that  figure  in 
this  illustrious  and  eminent  gallery  should 
have  been  printed  with  blanks  for  the  date  of 
their  decease,  which  the  purchaser  might 
have  filled  up  as  he  pleased.  To  the  por- 
traits, however,  there  can  be  no  objection ; 
they  are  neatly,  and  in  some  instances  beau- 
tifully engraved  ;  the  work  is  carefully  and 
elegantly  got-up,  and  (a  circumstance  not  to 
be  overlooked,)  it  is  published  at  a  price  un- 
usually moderate. 


WORKS  IN  THE  PRESS,  AND  NEW  PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS   IN    PREPARATION. 

Nearly  ready  for  publication,  a  Memoir  of 
his  late  Majesty  George  the  Fourth.  By  the 
Rev.  G.  Croly,  A.M. 

The  Templars,  an  Historical  Novel,  is  on 
the  eve  of  publication. 

Early  in  July  will  be  published,  the  first 
volume  of  Sharpe's  Library  of  the  Belles 
Lettres. 

A  Brief  View  of  the  Different  Editions  of 
the  Scriptures  of  the  Protestant  and  Roman 
Catholic  Churches. 

Prince  of  Killarney,  a  Poem.  By  Miss 
Bourke. 

The  Northern  Tourist,  or  Stranger's  Guide 
to  the  North  and  North- West  of  Ireland. 
By  P.  D.  Hardy. 

Six  New  Lectures  on  Painting.  By  the 
late  Henry  Fuseli. 

Musical  Memoirs,  comprising  an  Account 
of  the  General  State  of  Music  in  England, 
from  the  first  Commemoration  of  Handel,  in 
1784,  to  1830,  with  Anecdotes,  &c.  By 
W.  T.  Parke,  Principal  Oboist  at  Covent 
Garden  for  40  years. 


Southerman,  a  Novel.  By  Gait.  In  3  vols. 

De  L'Orme,  a  Novel.  By  the  Author  of 
Richelieu.  In  3  vols. 

The  Separation,  a  Novel.  By  the  Author 
of  Flirtation.  In  3  vols. 

Wedded  Life  in  the  Upper  Ranks,  a  Novel. 
In  2  vols. 

Clarance,  a  Tale  of  Our  Own  Times.  In 
3  vols. 

The  Life  of  Lord  Burghley.  Volume  2d. 
By  Dr.  Nares. 

Visions  of  Solitude,  a  Poem.  By  the 
Author  of  Sketches,  Scenes,  and  Narratives. 

A  New  Annual  for  1831,  entitled  The 
Humourist.  By  W.  H.  Harrison.  Illus- 
trated by  50  Wood-engravings,  from  Row- 
landson. 

Personal  Memoirs,  or  Reminiscences  of 
Men  and  Manners  at  Home  and  Abroad 
during  the  Last  Half  Century.  By  P.  Gor- 
don, Esq. 

Mr.  Britton  has  announced  a  Dictionary 
of  the  Architecture  and  Archaeology  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  including  the  Words  used  by 
Old  and  Modern  Authors. 

Travels  to  the  Seat  of  War  in  the  East, 


120 


List  of  New  Works. 


[JULY, 


through  Russia  and  the  Crimea,  in  1829. 
By  J.  E.  Alexander,  16th  Lancers. 

Cambridge  in  the  Long  Vacation,  Poeti- 
cally Described.  By  Christopher  Twigum, 
F.S.S.  18mo. 

A  Syllabus  of  Trigonometry.  By  H. 
Pearson,  B.A. 

An  Exposition  of  the  System  of  the  World. 
By  the  Marquis  de  la  Place.  Translated 
from  the  French,  by  Rev.  H.  H.  Harte.  In 
2  vols.  8vo. 

The  Fallacies  of  Dr.  Wayte's  Anti- Phre- 
nology Exposed,  in  a  Critical  Review  of  his 
Observations  to  prove  the  Fallacy  of  the 
Modern  Doctrine  of  the  Mind. 

An  Interesting  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  T. 
Bradbury,  Author  of  "  The  Mystery  of 
Godliness." 

Christus  in  Coelo,  &c.  By  the  Rev.  J. 
Brown,  of  Whitburn. 

The  Journal  of  a  Tour  made  by  Seiior 
Juan  de  Vega,  the  Spanish  Minstrel  of  1828 
and  1 829,  through  Great  Britain  and  Ireland : 
a  Character  performed  by  an  English  Gentle- 
man. In  2  vols.  8vo. 

London  in  a  Thousand  Years,  and  other 
Poems,  by  Eugenius  Roche,  late  Editor  of 
the  Courier. 

Popular  Lectures  on  the  Prophecies  relat- 
ing to  the  Jewish  Nation.  By  the  Rev. 
Hugh  M'Neill,  M.A.  Rector  of  Albury, 
Surrey. 

The  Greek  Testament,  with  Critical  and 
Explanatory  Notes,  in  p]nglish.  By  the 
Rev.  Edward  Burton,  D.D.  Regius  Professor 
of  Divinity,  Oxford. 

Peninsular  War. — Major  Leith  Hay  is 
preparing  for  publication  a  Narrative  of  the 
Peninsular  Campaigns,  extending  over  a  pe- 
riod of  nearly  six  years'  service  in  Spain  and 
Portugal,  from  1808  to  1814,  in  which  the 
scenes  personally  witnessed  by  this  gallant 
officer  will  be  faithfully  delineated  from  jour- 
nals kept  from  day  to  day,  to  which  other 
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1803.] 


List  of  New  Works. 


121 


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Remarks  on  Nervous  Disorders,  &c.  By 
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Thompson  on  Heat  and  Electricty.  8vo. 
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Remarks  on  the  Disease  called  Hydro- 
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Q 


r     122    1  [JULY 

^Miotiod  wifgtU        •  •  T-  ^  *>££  »rfi  »<  ^" 

PATPTVJTQ 
_   . 

To  Matthew  Bush,  of  Dalnonareh  Print  Field,      engineer,  for  their  having  found  out  and  invented 


nearBonhill,  by  Dumbarton,  North  Britain,  calico- 
printer,  for  having  invented  certain  improvements 
in  machinery  or  apparatus  for  printing  calicoes  and 
other  fabrics.  24th  May,  six  months. 

To  John  Holmes  Bass,  of  Ilatton  Garden,  in  the 
county  of  Middlesex,  gentleman,  for  having  in- 
vented certain  improvements  in  machinery  for 
cutting  corks  and  bungs.  3d  June,  six  months. 

To  John  Levers,  of  New  Radford  Works,  near 
the  town  of  Nottingham,  lace-machine  maker,  for 
having  invented  or  found  out  certain  improvements 
in  machinery  for  making  lace,  commonly  called 
bobbin  net.  8th  June,  six  months. 

To  George  Vaugha^i  Palmer,  of  the  parish  of 
Saint  Peter,  in  the  city  of  Worcester,  artist,  foi 
having  invented  a  machine  to  cut  and  excavate 
earth.  8th  June,  six  months. 

To  William  Tutin  Hacraft,  of  the  Circus, 
Greenwich,  Doctor  of  Medicine,  for  having  in- 
vented or  found  out  certain  improvements  inateam- 
engines.  llth  June,  six  months. 

To  Thomas  Brunton,  of  the  Commercial  Road, 
Limehouse,  in  the  county  of  Middlesex,  merchant, 
and  Thomas- John  Fuller,  of  the  same  place,  civil 


an  improved  mechanical  power  applicable  to  ma- 
chinery of  different  descriptions.  19th  June,  si* 
months. 

List  of  Patents  which  having  been  granted  in  the 

month  of  July,  1816,  expire  in  the  present  month 

of  July,  1830. 

2.  John  Barlow,  Sheffield,  founder,  for  a  nito 
cooking  apparatus, 

11.  John  Towers,  LittTe  Darner-street,  Colilfcnth- 
fields,  chemist,  for  a  tinctwe  for  the  relief  of 
con/fh's,  #<:.,  called  "  Towers'  New  London  Tinc- 
ture." 

27.  Henry  Warburton,  Lower  Cadogan-place, 
Chelsea,  for  a  method  of  distilling  certain  animal 
vegetable  and  mineral  substances,  and  of  manu- 
facturing certain  of  the  products  thereof* 

—  Robert  Salmon,  Woburn,  Bedfordshire,  for 
further   improvements    in    haymaking    machines, 
called"  Salmon's  Patent  self-adjusting  and  manage- 
able Hay  machines." 

—  John  Hagne,  Great  Peare-street,  Spitalfields, 
London,  for  certain  improvements  in  the  method  of 
expelling  molasses  from  sugars. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  MEMOIRS  OF  EMINENT  PERSONS. 


LORD  REDESDALE. 

The  Right  Honourable  John  Freeman 
Mitford,  Baron  Redesdale,  of  Redesdale, 
in  the  county  of  Northumberland,  a  Lord 
of  Trade  and  Plantations,  and  a  Privy  Coun- 
cillor of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  F.R.S., 
F.S.A.,  &c.  was  born  on  the  18th  of  August, 
1748.  His  family  appears  to  have  been  of 
considerable  antiquity  in  the  north  of  Eng- 
land ;  for  Sir  John  Mitford,  Knt.,  was  Lord 
of  Mitford  Castle,  Northumberland,  so  early 
as  the  time  of  William  the  Conqueror.  As 
he  left  no  male  issue,  two  collateral  branches 
succeeded  :  the  elder  was  related,  by  means 
of  an  intermarriage  of  his  only  daughter, 
with  the  Bertrams,  Barons  of  Mitford ; 
while  the  younger  produced  the  Mitfords  of 
Rolleston,  the  representative  of  whom, 
Robert  de  Mitford,  received  a  royal  grant 
of  Mitford  Castle,  in  the  reign  of  Charles 
II.  William  Mitford,  of  Newton  House, 
in  the  county  of  Hants,  Esq.,  the  fifth  in 
descent  from  Robert,  had  an  heir,  John, 
by  Margaret,  daughter  of  Robert  Edwards, 
of  Wingfield,  in  Berkshire,  and  of  London, 
merchant.  He  was  a  member  of  Lincoln's 
Inn;  and  having  married  Philadelphia, 
daughter  of  William  Revely,  of  Newby, 
Esq.,  (and  first  cousin  of  Hugh  Percy 
Smithson,  first  Duke  of  Northumberland), 
John,  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  was  the 
younger  of  his  two  sons.  The  elder  son 
was  Colonel  William  Mitford,,  of  Exbury, 
in  the  county  of  Hants,  M.P.  for  Beeral- 
ston,  and  New  Romney,  Colonel  of  the 
South  Hants  Militia,  and  author  of  the 
History  of  Greece. 

John  Mitford,  educated  at  New  College, 


Oxford,  adopted  the  profession  of  his  father, 
who  died  when  he  was  only  fourteen  years 
of  age.  Having  studied  at  Lincoln's  Inn, 
he  was  called  to  the  Bar;  and,  devoting 
himself  to  the  Court  of  Chancery,  he 
speedily  attained  an  extraordinary  degree  of 
celebrity.  So  early  as  the  year  1782,  he 
published  "  A  Treatise  of  Pleadings  in 
Suits  in  the  Court  of  Chancery,  by  English 
Bill,"  a  work  in  high  repute.  A  situation 
so  distinguished  as  that  of  leader  in  the 
chief  court  of  equity,  soon  conferred  upon 
him  wealth  and  eminence.  He  also  obtained 
a  silk  gown,  and  with  it  all  the  advantages 
arising  from  the  office  of  King's  Counsel. 
Afterwards,  he  received  the  honourable  ap- 
pointment of  a  Welsh  Judge,  and  was 
nominated  one  of  the  Justices  of  the  Grand 
Sessions  for  the  counties  of  Cardigan,  Pem- 
broke, and  Carmarthen. 

By  the  interest  of  his  cousin,  the  Duke 
of  Northumberland,  Mr.  Mitford  was,  in 
17S9j  returned  Member  of  Parliament  for 
the  Borough  of  Beeralston.  At,  first,  he 
spoke  little  in  the  House ;  but,  soon  after- 
wards, we  find  him  debating  on  most  of  the 
great  subjects  that  came  under  discussion. 
He  spoke  several  times  during  the  trial  of 
Mr.  Hastings ;  and  he  supported  the  peti- 
tion of  that  gentleman,  complaining  of  the 
introduction  of  irrelevant  matter,  at  the 
Bar  of  the  House  of  Lords.  Two  things, 
in  particular,  he  observed,  should  be  adhered 
to  in  a  prosecution :  "  Never  to  bring  for- 
ward a  fact  that  was  matter  of  calumny  to 
the  accused  ;  and  never  to  inflame  the  pas- 
sions of  those  who  were  to  decide  as 
judges." 


1830.] 


Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons. 


123 


On  the  23d  of  June,  1789,  Mr.  Mitford 
obtained  leave  to  bring  in  a  bill  "  to  relieve, 
upon  certain  conditions,  and  under  due  res- 
trictions, persons  called  Protestant  Catholic 
Dissenters,  from  certain  penalties  and  dis- 
abilities to  which  Papists,  or  persons  pro- 
fessing the  Catholic  religion,  are  by  law 
subject."  Men  of  different  parties  in  Par- 
liament approved  of  this  measure ;  yet,  in 
consequence  of  certain  technical  objections, 
a  period  of  nearly  two  years  elapsed  before 
the  provisions  of  the  bill  were  carried  into 
a  law. 

Soon  after  the  meeting  of  the  New  Par- 
liament, in  the  winter  of  1792,  a  question 
was  stated  with  reference  to  Mr.  Hastings, 
and  argued  with  great  ability  on  both  sides, 
"  Whether  an  impeachment  ought  not  to 
abate  by  the  dissolution  of  Parliament  ?" 
Mr.  Mitford  contended,  and  we  think  justly, 
"  that  the  House  had  no  power  to  revive 
an  impeachment,  since  it  is  an  acknowledged 
principle  of  the  Constitution,  that  the  Par- 
liament should  die,  and  all  proceedings  de- 
termine with  its  existence." 

On  his  promotion  to  the  office  of  Solicitor 
General,  in  1793,  Mr.  Mitford  received  the 
honour  of  knighthood.  In  his  official  ca- 
pacity he  was  employed  by  the  ministry  to 
conduct  the  state  trials  of  Hardy,  Tooke, 
and  Thelwall,  under  Sir  John  Scott.  After 
a  long  and  elaborate  argument  on  the  law  of 
treason,  and  an  application  of  its  specific 
provisions  to  the  case  before  him,  Sir  John 
Mitford  thus  closed  a  speech  which  occupied 
many  hours  in  its  delivery  : — "  And  now, 
Gentlemen  of  the  Jury,  I  have  nothing 
more  to  offer.  I  have  discharged,  God 
knows,  with  much  pain,  the  harsh  duty 
imposed  upon  me.  You  will  now  do  yours. 
If  your  verdict  shall  discharge  the  prisoners, 
I  know  you  will  give  it  with  joy ;  if  the 
contrary,  yet  it  must  be  given.  The  cup, 
although  it  may  be  bitter,  must  not  pass 
away  from  you.  I  have  had  a  duty  to  per- 
form beyond  my  strength  and  my  ability : 
I  have  discharged  it  faithfully  and  satisfac- 
factorily  to  my  conscience."  Sir  John  was 
so  much  affected  on  the  occasion,  that,  as 
he  resumed  his  seat,  the  tear  was  seen  to 
roll  down  his  cheek. 

In  the  course  of  the  war  with  France,  Sir 
John  Mitford  gave  his  cordial  support  to 
Government,  and  spoke  upon  almost  every 
public  subject  that  occurred.  In  1799, 
when  Sir  John  Scott,  now  Lord  Eldon,  was 
raised  to  the  Common  Pleas,  he  succeeded 
him  as  Attorney-General.  When  Mr.  Pitt 
retired  from  office,  and  the  Chair  of  the 
House  of  Commons  was  vacated  by  his 
successor,  Mr.  Addington,  Sir  John  Mit- 
ford, who  had  been  recently  returned  M.P. 
for  the  borough  of  East  Looe,  was  deemed 
a  fit  person  to  sustain  the  important  office 
of  Speaker.  He  was  accordingly  elected  on 
the  18th  of  February,  1801.  He  was  pro- 
posed by  Lord  Hawksbury,  who  was  second- 
ed and  supported  by  Mr.  J.  H.  Browne, 
Mr.  Pitt,  Mr.  Martin,  and  others. 


Higher  honours  were  In  store  for  him. 
It  was  determined  that  he  should  receive  the 
Great  Seal  of  Ireland,  and  be  invested  at 
the  same  time  with  an  English  peerage. 
In  consequence  of  these  arrangements,  he 
vacated  the  chair  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons on  the  9th  of  February,  1 802 ;  re- 
ceived his  appointment ;  and,  on  the  15th 
of  the  same  month,  he  was  created  Baron 
Redesdale,  of  Redesdale,  in  the  county  of 
Northumberland,  and  a  member  of  the  Privy 
Council  of  Ireland.  To  that  kingdom  his 
lordship  soon  afterwards  repaired,  and  con- 
tinued to  preside  in  the  Court  of  Chancery 
till  the  month  of  March,  1806;  when,  in 
consequence  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Pitt,  and 
the  accession  of  the  Fox  and  Grenville  party 
to  power,  he  yielded  his  high  office  to  Mr. 
George  Ponsonby.  It  was  on  the  5th  of 
March,  that,  in  a  most  feeling,  dignified, 
and  impressive  style,  his  lordship  delivered 
his  farewell  address  to  the  Irish  Bar. 

Lord  Redesdale  was  always  a  staunch 
and  determined  advocate  of  the  paramount 
rights  and  privileges  of  the  Protestant 
Church.  In  1805,  on  the  presentation  of  a 
petition  from  certain  Irish  Roman  Catholics 
to  both  Houses  of  Parliament,  when  Lord 
Grenville  delivered  a  long  and  able  speech 
in  favour  of  their  claims,  Lord  Redesdale 
rose,  and  observed,  that  the  object  of  the 
petitioners  was  clearly  pointed  out  by  them- 
selves to  be,  '  an  equal  participation,  upon 
equal  terms,  with  their  fellow  subjects,  of 
the  full  benefits  of  the  British  laws  and 
Constitution.' "  His  lordship,  however, 
contended,  "  that  the  maintenance  of 
the  Protestant,  as  the  established  religion 
of  the  Government,  and  the  exclusion  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  faith  from  the  adminis- 
tration of  that  government,  had  become 
fundamental  principles,  long  deemed  essen- 
tial to  the  preservation  of  the  liberty,  both 
religious  and  political,  of  the  country." 

While  Chancellor  of  Ireland,  Lord  Redes- 
dale usually  came  over  once  a  year  to 
England  during  the  sitting  of  Parliament ; 
but  the  greater  part  of  his  time  was  passed 
either  at  his  house  in  the  capital,  or  his 
country  residence  at  Kelmacap,  in  the  county 
of  Dullin,  where  he  built,  planted,  and 
effected  several  other  improvements.  With 
the  Roman  Catholic  party  he  was  of  course 
unpopular ;  but  his  conduct  as  a  Chancellor 
was  always  free  from  the  suspicion  of  bias, 
and  the  business  of  his  court  was  distin- 
guished by  its  propriety  and  decorum. 

Besides  the  tract  mentioned  in  the  early 
part  of  this  sketch,  Lord  Redesdale  pub- 
lished a  few  years  since,  "  Observations 
occasioned  by  a  Pamphlet  entitled  c  Obser- 
vations on  the  Project  of  Creating  a  Vice 
Chancellor  of  England.'  "  His  lordship 
was  always  considered  as  a  profound  lawyer, 
and  his  judgment  was  much  valued  in  the 
Upper  House,  especially  in  appeals. 

Lord  Redesdale  married,  on  the  6th  of 
Juce,  1803,  the  Lady  Frances  Perceval, 
daughter  of  John,  second  Eirl  of  Egmont, 
Q  2 


124 


Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons. 


and  sister  of  the  Hon.  Spencer  Perceval, 
Premier  of  England,  who  fell  by  the  hand 
of  Bellingham,  the  assassin.  Her  mother 
was  Katherine,  in  her  own  right,  Baroness 
Arden,  of  Lohort  Castle,  sister  of  Spencer 
Compton,  eighth  Earl  of  Northampton. 
Receiving  a  considerable  addition  to  his 
fortune  by  the  death  of  W.  G.  Freeman, 
Esq.,  he,  in  consequence  took  the  name 
and  arms  of  Freeman,  in  addition  to  those 
of  Mitford,  by  royal  sign  manual,  on  the 
2«th  of  January,  1800. 

By  his  marriage,  Lord  Redesdale  had 
one  son,  John  Thomas,  his  successor,  born 
in  1805 ;  and  two  daughters,  born,  respec- 
tively, in  1804,  and  1807-  Of  his  daugh- 
ters, only  Frances  Elizabeth,  the  elder, 
survives. 

His  lordship  died  at  his  seat,  Batsford 
Park,  Gloucestershire,  on  the  17th  of 
January. 


THE    RT.  HON.  GEOKGE  TIERNEY,  M.P. 

Mr.  Tierney  was  the  last  of  his  school — 
the  last  remnant  of  the  old  English  Oppo- 
sition. He  had  not  only  sat  in  the  same 
House  with  those  worthies,  but  he  had 
taken  an  active  part  in  the  debates  in  which 
Burke,  Fox,  Pitt,  Wyndham,  Sheridan, 
Whitbread,  Romilly,  and  others,  had  often, 
by  their  full,  powerful,  and  commanding 
eloquence,  enchained  the  ear  of  the  listener, 
and  carried  conviction  to  his  mind.  As  an 
orator,  however,  he  was,  strictly  speaking, 
sui  generis  ;  for,  as  it  has  been  justly  ob- 
served, his  style  displayed  neither  the  poetry 
of  Burke,  the  comprehensiveness  of  Fox, 
the  logic  of  Pitt,  the  sarcasm  of  Wyndham, 
the  dazzling  wit  of  Sheridan,  the  bitter  vi- 
tuperation of  Whitbread,  nor  the  soft  and 
oily  persuasion  of  Romilly.  His  language 
was  simple,  idiomatic,  and  colloquial ;  his 
manner  cool,  dry,  and  caustic ;  his  own 
features  remaining  stoically  unmoved,  whilst 
those  of  his  hearers  were  frequently  con- 
vulsed with  laughter. 

Here,  however,  we  have  not  room  to  exa- 
mine, to  analyse,  or  to  display  his  charac- 
ter ;  we  must  speak  of  him  merely  with 
reference  to  some  of  the  leading  facts  of  his 
life. 

Mr.  Tierney  was  born  in  the  year  1756. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  London  merchant, 
trading  unc'er  the  firm  of  Tierney,  Lilly, 
and  Roberts,  in  Lawrence  Pountney-lane ; 
but,  whether  he  first  saw  the  light  in  Lon- 
don or  in  Dublin,  appears  not  to  have  been 
.ascertained.  He  was  bred  to  the  bar;  a 
-profession  for  which,  by  his  natural  acute- 
ness  and  discrimination,  he  was  eminently 
suited ;  but  coming  unexpectedly  into  the 
possession  of  a  good  fortune,  by  marriage, 
he  exchanged  the  arena  of  the  law  courts  for 
that  of  the  House  of  Commons.  But  he 
was  an  author  before  he  became  a  statesman. 
His  first  publication,  entitled,  "  The  Real 
Situation  of  the  East  India  Company  con- 
sidered with  reference  to  their  Rights  and 


Privileges,"  was  put  forth  in  1787  ;  and  it 
is  by  no  means  improbable  that  it  would  be 
found  to  possess  considerable  interest  at  the 
present  moment. 

At  the  very  commencement  of  his  public 
life,  Mr.  Tierney  attached  himself  to  the 
Opposition.  Patronised,  as  it  was  under- 
stood, by  a  noble  Duke,  he,  at  the  election 
of  1790,  offered  himself  as  a  candidate  for 
the  representation  of  the  Borough  of  Col- 
chester. The  contest  proved  a  severe  one  : 
Tierney  not  only  lost  his  election,  but  was 
saddled  with  expences  to  the  amount  of 
twelve  thousand  pounds.  His  talents  were 
now  known ;  and,  on  the  invitation  of  the 
Southwark  electors,  who  pledged  themselves 
to  indemnify  him,  he  contested  that  bo- 
rough, in  1796,  with  Mr.  Thelluson,  the 
opulent  Government  candidate,  with  whom 
he  happened  to  be  connected  by  marriage. 
Thelluson  was  returned,  but  was  petitioned 
against  as  ineligible,  on  the  ground  that  he 
had  violated  the  treating  act.  Tierney 
acted  as  his  own  counsel  before  the  Com- 
mittee of  the  House  of  Commons.  The 
Committee  reported  to  the  House,  that  the 
election  was  void,  and  that  Thelluson  was 
incapacitated  to  serve.  However,  on  the 
issue  of  a  new  writ,  that  gentleman  re- 
newed the  contest,  and  was  again  success- 
ful on  the  poll.  A  new  petition  was  pre- 
sented by  Mr.  Whitbread ;  the  case  was 
referred  to  a  Committee;  the  Committee 
reported,  that  Mr.  Thelluson  was  not,  but 
that  Mr.  Tierney  was,  duly  elected;  and 
the  latter  took  his  seat  accordingly.  Mr. 
Tierney  continued  in  the  representation  of 
Southwark  till  the  year  1806,  when  he  re- 
signed :  he  has  since  represented,  succes- 
sively, Athlone,  Bandon-Bridge,  Appleby, 
and  Knaresborough.  In  the  last  of  these 
he  has  been  succeeded  by  Mr.  Brougham. 

Tierney  proved  a  frequent  debater  on 
every  great  and  important  subject  in  the 
House,  and  immediately  rose  to  celebrity. 
He  may  be  said  to  have  been  a  sharp  thorn 
in  the  side  of  Mr.  Pitt.  Soon  after  the 
meeting  of  Parliament  in  the  autumn  of 
1797)  he  gave  notice  that  he  should  move 
the  House,  "  not  to  acknowledge  the  Right 
Hon.  Henry  Dundas,  in  any  parliamentary 
capacity."  This  proceeding  originated  in 
a  supposed  legal  disability  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Dundas,  in  consequence  of  his  acting 
in  the  capacity  of  third  Secretary  of  State. 
"  If  he  spoke  on  that  occasion  in  a  style  of 
asperity,"  Mr.  Tierney  observed,  "  it  was 
not  because  he  felt  any  personal  dislike  or 
private  animosity  to  the  right  honourable 
gentleman,  but  that  he  thought  the  whole 
transaction  of  which  he  complained  a  most 
corrupt  job — a  job  not  avowed,  but  detected 
— a  job  that  never  would  have  been  brought 
to  light  if  it  could  have  been  kept  in  con- 
cealment, and  which  was  at  last  brought  to 
light  by  the  labours  of  a  committee."  The 
defence  of  Mr.  Dundas  was  feeble ;  yet,  on 
a  division  of  the  House,  only  eight  members 
supported  the  mover,  while- no  fewer  than 


1830.] 


Biographical  Memoirs  of'  Eminent  Persons. 


125 


one  hundred  and  thirty-nine  were  against 
him. 

In  the  month  of  March  following,  Mr. 
Tierney  gave  his  cordial  support  to  a  Bill 
brought  in  by  Mr.  Dundas— "  to  enable 
His  Majesty  more  effectually  to  provide  for 
the  defence  and  security  of  the  realm;" 
and,  in  reply  to  a  vulgar  sneer  from  a  Mem- 
ber on  the  Treasury  Bench,  he  added, 
"  that  no  part  or  action  of  his  life  could 
justify  that  honourable  gentleman  in  insi- 
nuating, that s  he  was  not  animated  by  as 
cordial  a  zeal  for  the  welfare  and  prosperity 
of  his  country,  as  any  man  who  lived  in  it." 
In  the  spring  of  1798,  he  also  voted  for  the 
suspension  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  act.  Soon 
afterwards  he  supported  Colonel  Walpole  in 
his  enquiry  into  the  conduct  of  the  assembly 
of  Jamaica,  relative  to  the  transportation  of 
the  Maroons ;  and  in  the  summer  of  the 
same  year,  in  consequence  of  the  melan- 
choly aspect  of  affairs  in  Ireland,  he  de- 
clared, "  that  the  minister  ought  to  come 
down  to  the  House  clothed  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes,  to  find  public  affairs  in  such  a  cri- 
tical state  in  the  fifth  year  of  the  war,  and 
after  an  expenditure  of  about  two  hundred 
millions  of  money." 

It  was,  we  believe,  previously  to  this 
(Friday,  May  25,  1798)  that  an  incident 
occurred,  the  consequences  of  which  might 
have  been  fatal.  During  the  debate  on  the 
Bill  for  suspending  seamen's  protections, 
Mr.  Pitt  was  so  far  thrown  off  his  guard — . 
a  rare  circumstance  with  him — as  to  de- 
clare, "  that  he  considered  Mr.  Tierney's 
opposition  to  it,  as  proceeding  from  a  wish 
to  impede  the  service  of  the  country."  Mr. 
Tierney  immediately  called  the  Chancellor 
of  the  Exchequer  to  order,  appealed  to  the 
House,  and  invoked  the  protection  of  the 
Speaker.  Mr.  Addington,  who  then  occu- 
pied the  chair,  observed — "  That  if  the 
House  should  consider  the  words  which  had 
been  used  as  conveying  a  personal  reflection 
on  the  honourable  gentleman,  they  were  in 
•that  point  of  view  to  be  considered  as  '  un- 
parliamentary and  disorderly.'  It  was  for 
the  House  to  decide  on  their  application, 
and  they  would  wait  in  the  mean  time  for 
the  explanation  of  the  right  honourable 
gentleman." — Mr.  Pitt,  instead  of  apolo- 
gising, immediately  said — "  If  he  were 
called  on  to  explain  away  anything  which 
he  had  said,  the  House  might  wait  long 
enough  for  such  an  explanation  !  He  was 
of  opinion,  that  the  honourable  gentleman 
was  opposing  a  necessary  measure  for  the 
defence  of  the  country,  and  therefore  he 
should  neither  explain  nor  retract  any  par- 
ticle of  what  he  had  said  on  the  subject." 

Here,  of  course,  the  affair  did  not  end. 
Mr.  Tierney  sent  his  friend,  Mr.  George 
Walpole,  with  a  message  to  Mr.  Pitt ;  and, 
at  three  o'clock,  on  the  next  Sunday  after- 
noon, Mr.  Pitt,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Ryder 
(now  Lord  Harrowby),  and  Mr.  Tierney, 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Walpole,  met  on 
Putney  Heath.  A  case  of  pistols  was  fired 


at  the  same  moment  without  effect.  On 
the  second  fire,  Mr.  Pitt  discharged  his 
pistol  in  the  air.  The  seconds  then -jointly 
interfered,  ai;d  insisted  that  the  matter 
should  go  no  further ;  as  it  was  their  de- 
cided opinion  that  sufficient  satisfaction  had 
been  given,  and  that  the  business  had  been 
terminated  with  perfect  honour  to  both 
parties. 

Mr.  Tierney  was  a  uniform  and  steady 
opponent  of  the  war  with  France ;  yet,  on 
the  victory  of  Aboukir,  in  1708,  he  cor- 
dially acquiesced  in  the  motion  for  the 
thanks  of  the  House  to  Rear-Admiral  Lord 
Nelson,  and  affirmed,  "  that  no  man  was 
more  anxious  than  himself  for  the  general 
security  of  the  empire ;  and  that  no  man 
ever  felt  more  warmth  and  animation  than 
he  did  whenever  our  Navy  was  triumphant. 
His  opposition  to  the  war  rendered  him 
also  an  opponent  of  Mr.  Pitt  in  finance.  In 
that  science  he  was  considered,  especially  by 
his  friends  and  partisans,  to  be  eminently 
skilful ;  and,  for  several  years,  it  was  al- 
most his  uniform  custom  to  bring  forward 
a  serjes  of  resolutions  in  opposition  to  those 
of  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

In  the  debate  upon  the  projected  Union 
with  Ireland,  Mr.  Tierney  expressed  his 
opinion  that  that  measure  would  be  the 
ruin  of  the  liberties  of  England ;  a  pro- 
phetic intimation,  which,  to  a  great  extent, 
has  been  since  fulfilled,  though  not  in  the 
light  through  which  it  was  viewed  by  the 
seer. 

In  Mr.  Addington's  short-lived  adminis- 
tration, Mr.  Tierney  was  nominated  to  the 
lucrative  office  of  Treasurer  of  the  Navy ; 
and  he  became,  at  the  same  time,  Lieut. - 
Colonel  of  the  Somerset  House  Volunteers. 
On  the  return  of  Mr.  Pitt  to  power,  he 
again  joined  the  Opposition.  During  the 
Fox  and  Grenville  administration,  in  1800, 
he  was  first  Irish  Secretary,  and  afterwards 
President  of  the  Board  of  Control.  With 
the  Whigs  he  quitted  office ;  and,  on  the 
death  of  Mr.  Ponsonby,  he  became  leader 
of  the  Opposition  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. Notwithstanding  the  severe,  the  de- 
served, the  merciless  castigation,  which  he 
bestowed  on  Canning,  on  that  gentleman's 
taking  office,  not  only  with  but  under  Lord 
Castlereagh,  he,  on  the  formation  of  the 
Canning  ministry,  was  made  Master  of  the 
Mint,  with  a  seat  in  the  Cabinet.  He  went 
out  with  Lord  Goderich ;  and,  since  that 
period,  struggling  with  age  and  infirmity, 
though  in  full  possession  of  all  his  intellec- 
tual powers,  he  has  been  seen  but  little  in 
public  life.  For  many  years  he  had  la- 
boured under  an  organic  disease  of  the 
heart,  with  great  tendency  to  dropsy  in  the 
chest  and  limbs,  attended  with  cough  and 
difficulty  of  breathing.  His  complaints, 
however,  were  so  much  relieved  by  medi- 
cine, that  he  transacted  business,  went  into 
company,  and  retained  his  cheerfulness  to 
the  last.  The  day  before  his  death,  which 
occurred  at  his  house  in  Saville-row,  on  the 


126 


Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons. 


[JULY, 


25th  of  January,  a  friend  called  upon  him, 
and  found  him  reading  "  Moore's  Life  of 
Byron."  He  talked  and  laughed  on  various 
suhjects  for  half  an  hour,  and  had  never  ap- 
peared in  better  spirits.  "Within  live  mi- 
nutes of  his  death,  he  had  franked  a  letter 
for  a  friend.  He  was  found  quite  dead,  sit- 
ting in  his  arm-chair,  as  though  he  had 
been  asleep,  and  had  probably  passed  un- 
consciously into  another  state  of  existence. 
On  account  of  the  suddenness  of  his  death, 
a  Coroner's  Inquest  was  held  upon  his 
body ;  and  the  verdict  returned  was — 
"  That  the  deceased  died  a  natural  death  by 
the  visitation  of  God,  occasioned  by  en- 
largement of  the  heart." 

Amongst  several  pamphlets  written  by 
Mr.  Tierney,  were — "  Two  Letters  on  the 
Colchester  Petition,  1791 ;"  and,  in  the 
same  year — "  A  Letter  to  the  Right  Hon. 
Henry  Dundas,  on  the  Situation  of  the 
East  India  Company."  Mr.  Anderson, 
accountant  to  the  East  India  Board,  contro- 
verted the  statements  of  Mr.  Tierney,  and 
that  gentleman  replied  in  a  second  letter  to 
Mr.  Dundas. 

" 

GENERAL    GARTH.         jjjj   a\ 

"\Vithin  the  last  three  or  four  years  more 
than  one  notorious  transactions  has  brought 
the  name  of  Garth — a  name  previously  al- 
ways mentioned  and  heard  with  respect — 
somewhat  too  much  before  the  public.  It 
can  hardly  be  necessary  to  say  that  we 
allude,  in  the  first  instance,  to  a  crim.  con. 
affair,  Astley  v.  Garth,  in  which  the  son  of 
the  general  figured  as  defendant ;  and,  more 
recently,  to  a  disgraceful  and  scandalous 
business,  which  furnished  the  pro-popery 
journals  with  an  opportunity  of  emitting 
volumes  of  the  grossest  slander  and  libel, 
against  one  of  the  most  distinguished  per- 
sonages of  the  realm.  With  all  this,  how- 
ever, beyond  its  marking  the  fact  of  rela- 
tionship, we  have  nothing  to  do. 

Thomas  Garth,  to  whom  this  brief  notice 
immediately  refers,  was  born  about  the  year 
1 744  ;  and  his  youth  and  prime  of  manhood 
appear  to  have  been  passed  in  the  service  of 
his  country.  He  entered  the  army  on  the 
12th  of  August,  1762,  as  a  cornet  in  the 
1  st  dragoons ;  served  in  the  campaign  of 
that  year,  in  Germany,  in  the  allied  army 
under  the  command  of  Prince  Ferdinand ; 
in  1765,  obtained  a  lieutenancy;  and,  in 
1775,  was  appointed  captain  in  his  regiment. 
In  1779,  he  exchanged  into  the  20th  Light 
Dragoons,  and  proceeded  to  the  West  Indies 
in  the  intended  expedition  against  the  Spa- 
nish Main  ;  which,  however,  was  anticipat- 
ed by  Lieutenant  General  Sir  J.  Dalling, 
Lieutenant  Governor  of  Jamaica. 

Captain  Garth  returned  to  England  in 
1792,  and  was  reduced  to  half-pay,  with 
other  officers  of  the  20th  Light  Dragoons. 
Immediately  afterwards  he  obtained  the  ma- 
jority of  the  Second  Dragoon  Guards  ;  and, 
in  1794,  he  was  appointed  lieutenant-colonel 
of  the  First  Dragoons;  with  which  regiment 


he  was  engaged  in  most  of  the  actions  that 
occurred  from  the  17th  of  April  to  the  close 
of  the  campaign  of  179^5  9J  »•  • 

This  officer  was  next  appointed  colonel  of 
the  Sussex  Fencibles ;  and  afterwards,  on 
the  death  of  Lord  Fielding,  to  the  late  22d 
Light  Dragoons,  raised  by  the  Earl  of  Shef- 
field. On  the  7th  of  January,  1801,  he 
was  appointed  colonel  of  his  former  regi- 
ment, the  First  Dragoons.  He  received 
the  rank  of  major-general  on  the  1st  of 
January,  1798 ;  that  of  lieutenant-general 
in  1805  ;  and  that  of  general,  on  the  4th  of 
June,  1814. 

General  Garth  died  at  his  house,  in  Gros- 
venor  Place,  at  the  advanced  age  of  85,  on 
the  18th  of  November,  1829.  His  wiU, 
dated  on  the  12th  of  the  preceding  Septem- 
ber, was  proved  on  the  10th  December,  and 
the  personal  property  sworn  under  ,£16,000. 
The  general  bequeathed  to  his  son,  Thomas 
Garth,  the  moiety  of  an  annuity  of  £3,000, 
payable  out  of  the  Duchy  of  Cornwall,  and 
held  by  letters  patent  of  King  Charles  II., 
which,  by  indenture  of  the  17th  of  Novem- 
ber, 1820,  General  Garth  had. procured  to 
be  settled  on  himself  for  life,  with  remainder 
to  his  said  son  for  life,  and  his  lawful  issue, 
failing  which,  remainder  to  the  testator's 
nephew,  Captain  Thomas  Garth,  R.N.  To 
his  son,  General  Garth  also  left  his  house 
in  Grosvenor  Place,  and  all  his  plate,  wines, 
furniture,  &c.  either  there  or  at  his  residence 
at  Peddlecombe,  Dorsetshire ;  directing  that 
any  sums  of  money  which  might  have  been 
advanced  him  to  purchase  army  commis- 
sions, or  for  other  purposes,  should  be  consi- 
dered as  gifts,  not  loans.  Some  landed 
property  which  had  been  bequeathed  to 
General  Garth,  by  his  late  sister,  Elizabeth 
Garth,  he  left  to  his  nephew,  Captain  Garth, 
R.N.  To  his  niece,  Miss  Frances  Garth, 
he  left  a  life  annuity  of  £300.  The  residue 
of  the  general's  property  was  left  to  Captain 
Garth,  who,  with  another  nephew  of  the 
testator,  John  Fullerton,  Esq.,  of  Thoy- 
burgh,  in  Yorkshire,  was  appointed  exe- 
cutor. 



LIEUTENANT-GENERAL    SIR    HENRY 
CLINTON,    K.  C.  H. 

This  officer,  a  distant  relation  of  the  Duke 
of  Newcastle,  was  the  son  of  Sir  Henry 
Clinton,  who  distinguished  himself  in  Ame- 
rica, during  the  war  of  independence,  and 
succeeded  Sir  William  Howe,  as  Com- 
mander-in-Chief.  He  was  also  the  brother 
of  Lieutenant-General  Sir  William  Henry 
Clinton,  G.C.P.,  M.P.,  &c.,  late  Com- 
mander-in-Chief  in  Portugal. 

Sir  Henry  Clinton  had  seen  much  service, 
and  was  an  officer  of  considerable  reputa- 
tion. He  entered  the  army  at  an  early  age ; 
and,  in  1?95,  was  appointed  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  of  the  66th  Foot,  from  which  regi- 
ment he  exchanged  the  same  year,  into  the 
1st  Foot  Guards.  With  that  regiment  he 
remained  till  the  20th  of  May,  1813,  when 
he  was  made  Colonel-Commandant  of  a  bat- 


J830.] 


Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons. 


127 


talion  of  the  COth ;  aiul,  in  August,  1816, 
Colonel  of  the  3d  Foot,  or  Buffs. 

In  1809,  he  acted  as  Adjutant-General 
in  Spain ;  and,  in  the  ensuing  year,  he 
published  a  pamphlet  entitled  "  Remarks 
Explanatory  of  the  Motives  which  guided 
the  Operations  of  the  British  Army  during 
the  late  Short  Campaign,  1809." 

On  the  25th  of  July,  1809,  he  was  pro- 
moted to  the  rank  of  Major-General ;  on 
the  4th  of  June,  1814,  to  that  of  Lieute- 
nant-General; and,  in  the  same  year,  he 
was  invested  with  the  insignia  of  a  Knight 
Grand  Cross  of  the  Bath. 

Sir  Henry  Clinton  commanded  a  division 
of  the  army  in  Spain ;  was  engaged  in  the 
battles  of  Salamanca,  Nivelle,  Nive,  Orthes, 
and  Toulouse,  and  subsequently  in  that  of 
Waterloo ;  services  which  entitled  him  to 
wear  the  honorary  cross,  clasp,  and  medal, 
for  those  battles.  After  the  victory  of  Wa- 
terloo, he  also  received  the  Orders  of  Maria 
Theresa,  St.  George  of  Russia,  and  Wilhelm 
of  the  Netherlands. 

Sir  Henry  Clinton  was,  for  some  time, 
Adjutant-General  in  Ireland  ;  and,  through 
his  connection  with  the  Duke  of  Newcas- 
tle's family,  he  sat  during  two  Parliaments, 
as  member  for  Boroughbridge.  Sir  Henry 
died  about  the  middle  of  December.  /**axipa'. 


MR.   WINSOR. 

FREDERICK  ALBERT  WINSOR,  who 
lately  died  in  Paris,  in  his  68th  year,  was 
the  founder  of  the  Gas  light  and  Coke  Com- 
pany in  London,  and  of  the  first  gas  com- 
pany which  was  established  in  Paris :  from 
his  public  and  persevering  efforts  arose  these 
and  every  other  gas-light  establishment  which 
has  since  been  founded. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  in  1803  Mr. 
Winsor  demonstrated  the  use  to  which  his 
discovery  of  gas-lighting  might  be  publicly 
applied,  though  many  men  of  high  scientific 
reputation  denied  its  practicability.  His 
first  public  experiments  were  shewn  at  the 
Lyceum,  in  the  Strand ;  he  afterwards 
lighted  with  gas  the  walls  of  Carlton  Palace 
gardens,  in  St.  James's  Park,  on  the  king's 
birth-day,  in  1807  ;  and  during  1809  and 


1810,  one  side  of  Pall  Mall,  from  the  house 
which  he  then  occupied  in  that  street.  His 
house  was  for  many  years  openly  shewn,  fit- 
ted up  with  gas-lights  throughout,  to  exhibit 
to  the  legislature  and  the  country  the  practi- 
cability of  his  plans. 

The  memorial  to  his  late  Majesty  George 
III.  for  a  charter,  and  the  evidence  taken  in 
Parliament  and  before  the  Privy  Council, 
bear  testimony  to  the  indefatigable  and  un- 
remitting zeal  with  which  he  persevered,  until 
he  overcame  the  obstacles  which  prejudice 
had  raised  against  his  efforts,  and  which 
threatened  to  prevent  the  general  adoption  of 
his  discoveries  and  improvements. 

In  1812,  however,  a  charter  of  incorpora- 
tion for  a  gas-light  and  coke  company  was 
obtained,  and  success  crowned  his  labours ; 
but  his  mind  having  been  wholly  possessed 
with  the  prosecu.ion  of  an  object  of  such 
public  importance,  he  was  too  regardless  of 
his  own  pecuniary  interests,  and  omitted  to 
retain  a  legal  power  over  the  advantages 
which  resulted  from  his  exertions  :  he  unfor- 
tunately trusted  too  much  for  his  reward  to 
the  honour  of  the  parties  with  whom  he  was 
engaged. 

In  1815  he  extended  to  France  the  ad- 
vantages which  had  attended  his  efforts  in 
England.  There,  too,  he  was  the  first  to 
establish  a  company  and  erect  gas  works : 
but  rival  interests  created  other  companies, 
in  defiance  of  patent  privileges:  and  these 
associations,  with  large  capitals,  undermined 
his  interests,  and  he  again  gave  fortunes  to 
others  which  ought  to  have  been  his  own 
reward. 

It  is  thus  that  a  life,  which,  it  may  truly 
be  said,  has  been  an  honour  to  England,  has 
been  embittered,  if  not  abridged,  by  cares 
and  ingratitude.  After  all  the  services  which 
he  rendered  to  his  country  and  to  the  world, 
and  the  gains  which  individuals  have  realized 
by  his  discoveries,  the  founder  of  gas-light- 
ing has  left  no  other  legacy  to  his  family 
than  the  remembrance  of  his  virtues,  and  of 
those  talents  by  which  the  present  and  future 
generations  have  been  and  will  be  bene- 
fitted : 

Sic  vos  non  vobis. 


MONTHLY  AGRICULTURAL  REPORT. 


#>Ml    ..' 


ALAS  !  the  customary  topic,  the  weather,  takes  a  melancholy  precedence  in  our  pre  sent 
Report ;  but  sanguine  hope  that  June  would  bring  with  it  a  seasonable  improvement  has 
been  fatally  blighted,  and  to  this  metaphorical  has  been  joined  a  material  blight,  of  which 
a  great  part  of  our  corn  and  fruit  must  experience  the  disastrous  consequences.  In  our  last 
we  deprecated  the  accustomed  annual  visitation  of  that  thirsty  Saint  Swithin  ;  but  we  have 
been  unfortunately  visited  by  a  pre-Swithin,  which  has  deluged  all  the  low  lands,  caused 
rivers  to  overflow,  retarded  the  hay-harvest,  and  destroyed  grass  to  an  incalculable  amount. 
As  a  heavy  addition  to  this  misfortune,  the  rains  have  not  been  associated  with  winds  in  the 
usually  rainy  points  of  the  compass,  south  or  west,  but  with  cold  and  chilling  winds  in  the 


128  Agricultural  Report.  [JuLiT, 

opposite  quarters,  attended  with  hail  storms,  snow,  frosty  nights,  and  a  distressing  share  of 
the  severities  of  winter  and  early  spring.  In  these  severities,  in  so  great  a  degree  exacer- 
bated and  their  danger  increased  in  the  present  advanced  season  from  their  constant  alter- 
nation with  the  heat  of  a  summer  sun.  Within  these  few  days  we  have  been  flattered  with 
a  favourable  change,  the  wind  having  shifted  to  the  southward  of  the  east,  bringing  with 
it  a  softer  and  milder  temperature ;  yet  the  rainy  flood-gates  are  not  yet  closed,  for  it  rained 
here  incessantly  during  the  last  night  and  morning.  Atmospheric  alarmists  are  predicting 
another  cold  and  rainy  summer,  with  short  or  spoiled  crops,  a  calamity  which  Heaven 
avert !  Such  an  event  would  finally  ruin  the  major  part  of  the  present  tenantry  of  the 
country.  On  the  other  hand,  our  Junattcs  are  unwilling  to  surrender  their  dependence  on 
the  influence  of  the  moon,  expecting  on  every  change  a  lunar  renovation — a  change  of  the 
weather ;  but  although  the  goddess  has  her  regular  periodical  phases,  our  atmosphere 
seems  to  pay  no  respect  thereto,  remaining  unchangeable.  After  all,  perhaps,  the  moon 
may  have  no  further  business  with  us  mortals  than  to  light  us  to  bed.  The  weather  is 
obviously,  and  according  to  all  experience,  under  the  dominion  of  JEoltis^  not  of  Luna. 
Our  only  rational  dependence  subsists  in  the  probability  of  an  opposite  change,  the 
weather  having  so  long  continued  in  an  unfavourable  course ;  under  such  a  favourable 
circumstance,  the  corn  crops  which  have  suffered  the  least  injury,  might  yet  turn  out  highly 
productive ;  whilst,  to  those  which  have  been  injuriously  affected,  an  opportunity  would 
be  afforded  of  improvement  and  recovery. 

The  crops  of  grass,  as  in  the  last  season,  natural  and  artificial,  are  most  luxuriant  and 
heavy,  but  the  rains  have  retarded  the  operation  of  the  scythe,  much  to  the  injury  both  of 
the  crops  and  the  lands.  Scarcely  any  commencement  was  made  until  the  middle  of  the 
present  month,  when  a  return  of  foul  weather  almost  immediately  put  a  stop  to  further  pro- 
ceedings, leaving  the  grass  already  cut  at  a  risk,  and  both  farmers  and  labourers  in  an 
unfortunate  predicament.  At  any  rate,  we  have  the  prospect  of  a  late  hay  harvest.  A  con- 
siderable riddance  is  at  length  said  to  havejaeen  made  of  the  late  superabundant  stock  of 
old  hay.  The  greatest  damage  has  been  suffered  from  floods  sweeping  away  the  products 
of  thousands  of  acres  in  the  Isle  of  Ely,  Lincolnshire,  Durham,  Bucks,  in  many  parts  of 
the  West,  the  vicinity  of  Bath,  and  in  South  Wales.  The  waters  retiring  from  the  grass 
lands,  left  the  crops  in  such  a  perished  and  worthless  state,  that  it  would  be  conferring  a 
favour  upon  the  farmer  to  clear  them  away.  The  clay  land  fallows  are  in  a  worse  state, 
in  course,  than  they  were  last  year,  and,  as  we  then  predicted,  the  national  stock  of  weeds 
has  increased,  and  is  increasing  to  a  fearful  degree.  Great  complaints  are  abroad  of  the 
barleys  being  overrun  with  charlock  ;  and  we  find  in  the  public  prints  the  following  recipe 
for  its  eradication,  said  to  be  recommended  by  an  experienced  agriculturist — u  If  you  hoe 
up  weeds  as  fast  as  they  appear,  there  must  soon  be  an  end  of  their  coming.  And  when 
after  your  land  shall  have  become  totally  freed,  and  you  still  continue  to  hoe,  you  do  so  to 
prevent  a  recurrence,  and  for  the  benefit  of  dividing  and  aerating  the  soil,  which  is  also  to 
bestow  upon  it  a  dose  of  atmosperic  manure."  Now  this  doctrine  was  promulgated 
about  thirty  years  since,  by  that  well-known  agricultural  treatise,  the  u  New  Farmers' 
Calendar  ;"  and  had  it  been  generally  practised,  the  lands  of  this  country,  instead  of  their 
present  state,  too  large  a  portion  of  them  pretty  equally  divided  between  corn  and  weeds, 
might  the  whole  of  it  have  been  in  a  state  of  garden  cleanness,  the  home  growth  of  wheat 
equal  to  the  national  consumption,  and  the  now  starving  labourers  fully  employed.  The 
weeds,  not  the  corn  crops,  have  exhausted  and  impoverished  our  lands. 

Upon  low  and  wet  lands  all  the  operations  of  the  season  are  necessarily  backward.  On 
many  such,  the  farmers,  ten  days  since,  had  not  finished  potatoe  planting,  and  had  scarcely 
begun  to  sow  their  turnips.  Sheep  shearing  commenced  about  the  middle  of  the  month, 
and  the  clip  is,  thus  far,  reported  to  be  light.  The  stocks  of  wool  have  gradually  decreased, 
at  an  advancing  price,  a  continental  demand  having  arisen  for  our  long  wool.  The  very 
old  stocks  however,  held  on  speculation,  go  off  heavily  at  an  inferior  price.  The  chilling 
winds  and  rains  which  prevailed  at  the  critical  season  of  the  wheats  bursting  into  ear  and 
blooming,  must  have  had  unfavourable  effects  upon  the  most  promising  crops,  upon 'those 
of  low,  cold  and  infertile  soils,  the  consequences  will  be  ruinous  ;  on  such,  scarcely  half  a 
crop  can  be  expected,  and  it  is  no  longer  rational  to  look  for  an  average  crop  of  wheat  in 
the  present  year.  The  wheats  on  poor  light  lands,  have  suffered  much  both  from  ground 
insects  and  unfavourable  weather.  They  are  thin  upon  the  ground,  pale,  yellow  and  sickly, 
the  leaves  curled  an'd  blighted  by  the  foul  atmospheric  stroke,  furnishing  the  ear  with  nests 
for  tiie  reception  of  the  ova  of  the  aphis  or  blight  fly.  Of  the  oats,  too  generally,  the  report 
is  not  more  favourable.  Beans,  peas,  and  potatoes,  at  present,  appear  to  be  the  most  pro- 
mising crops  ;  yet  it  will  be  an  occurrence  equally  strange  as  favourable,  should  the  pulse 
escape  the  ravages  of  the  black  insectile  vermin,  after  such  weather  as  we  have  experienced. 
The  wheats  on  good  and  well  tilled  soils,  particularly  in  the  East  and  midland  counties 
and  in  Dorset,  wear  a  large  and  luxuriant  appearance.  It  is  to  be  noted  however,  that  far- 
mers themselves  are  customarily  guided,  not  seldom  misguided  by  this  flourishing  and  abun- 
dant external  appearance ;  being  subsequently  taught  by  the  flail,  the  real  state  of  the 
case  and  the  extent  of  internal  damage. 


1830.3  Agricultural  Report.  129 

The  Hops,  with  few  exceptions,  have  been  literally  covered  with  vermin,  and  where  the 
fly  had  been  washed  oft'  by  heavy  rains,  a  succession  of  blighting  airs  called  forth  fresh  co- 
lonies. How  this  will  end  remains  to  be  experienced.  Bark  obtains  somewhat  more  money 
from  the  small  quantity  in  the  market.  The  Oaks  in  various  parts,  have  suffered  severely 
from  blight,  their  leaves  shrivelled,  pale  and  sickly  as  in  late  autumn.  Cheese  as  before, 
in  great  plenty,  and  slow  ofsaje.  The  fruit  blossom  generally  injured.  Apples  said  to 
threaten  a  complete  failure.  The  cattle  markets  afford  no  novelty,  whether  of  improvement 
or  otherwise.  All  live  stock  at  markets  and  fairs,  particularly  gheep  and  lambs,  in  vast 
abundance,  numbers  frequently  driven  back  for  want  of  purchasers.  The  great  quantity 
of  feed  keeps  up  the  price  of  stores,  but  if  fat  stock  revive  a  fraction  in  price,  it  is  soon  re- 
duced by  the  vast  plenty  exposed  to  sale.  Of  horses,  the  old  story  is  still  current — an  im- 
moveable  supply  of  the  ordinary  and  too  well  worn  kind,  and  an  unfailing  scarcity  of  the 
fresh  and  good.  This  necessarily  arises  from  the  severity  of  English  labour.  There  is 
great  plenty  of  Devon  and  Sussex  labouring  oxen,  which  seem  to  yield  very  unsatisfactory 
prices.  • 

Emigration  is  proceeding  to  a  far  greater  extent  than  has  ever  before  been  witnessed  in 
this  country.  The  case  of  our  labourers  still  remains  a  most  heart-breaking  theme,  and  the 
misery  of  the  poor  hay- makers  has  brought  it  home  to  the  sight  and  feelings  of  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  metropolis.  According  to  report,  these  starving  wretches  have  risen  in  a  body 
at  Barnet,  and  forcibly  seized  upon  all  the  eatable  property  of  the  inhabitants  within  their 
reach.  As  a  commentary  upon  this  text,  five  of  these  unfortunates  have  perished  in  our 
fields,  from  mere  want  of  food  !  This  in  a  country  overflowing  and  glutted  with  all  the 
necessaries  of  life  and  luxury  !  We  are  frequently  warned  that,  '  such  a  state  of  things 
cannot  endure  much  longer,'  and  of  the  perilous  consequences  which  must  inevitably  ensue. 
Political  insurrections,  however,  for  certain  obvious  reasons,  are  not  to  be  dreaded  in  the 
present  state  of  this  country  :  but  lamentably,  it  is  not  yet  without  the  verge  of  probability, 
that  we  may  live  to  see  hosts  of  marauders,  acted  upon  by  the  goadings  of  real  distress, 
and  a  deep  feeling  of  injury  and  neglect,  prowling  the  country  up  and  down,  and  carrying 
havoc,  fire  and  destruction  in  their  rightful  course. 

.  SmitJtfield Beef,  3s.  2d.  to  4s.  Od— Mutton,  3s.  6d.  to  4s.  Od — Veal,  3s.  Od.  to  4s.  6d. 

Pork,  3s.  Od.  to  4s.  6d. — Dairy  do.  best,  5s — Lamb,  4s.  6d.  to  5s.  4d. — Raw  Fat,  2s.  0|d. 

Corn  Exchange Wheat,  48s.  to  82s. — Barley,   24s.  to  38s. — Oats,  22s.  to  32s — 

London  fine  4-lb.  loaf,  10£d — Hay,  45s.  to  105s.  per  load — Clover,  ditto,  60s.  to  110s. 
— Straw,  42s.  to  54s. 

Coals  in  the  Pool,  2Cs.  to  35s.  6d.  per  chaldron. 

Middlesex,  June  24. 


MONTHLY  COMMERCIAL  REPORT. 

REFINED  BOUNTIES. — It  is  reported  this  afternoon  that  a  complete  change  will  take 
place  in  the  export  of  refined  goods.  All  bounties  will  cease  on  the  5th  of  July  next ;  that 
refiners,  after  that  period,  will  manufacture  under  the  inspection  of  the  excise,  taking 
sugars  in  bond,  West  India,  East  India,  and  Foreign,  paying  no  duty,  and  receiving  no 
bounty,  but  that  all  the  produce  of  the  foreign  must  be  exported ;  that  the  molasses  from 
British  West  India  sugar  will  be  allowed  to  be  sold  here,  and  also  the  refined,  under  proper 
regulations  as  to  duty. 

SUGARS — The  sugar  market,  on  Tuesday,  was  thrown  into  great  agitation  by  the 
unexpected  announcement  of  a  complete  change  in  the  duties.  It  will  be  observed  the  plans 
are  at  present  not  matured.  In  the  meantime,  all  business  is  suspended ;  about  200  to  300 
hogsheads  of  fine  sugar  have  been  only  sold.  These  descriptions  cannot  be  affected  by 
the  change  of  duty.  The  holders  of  low  brown  have  withdrawn  their  sugars  from  the 
market.  The  Mauritius  are,  nominally,  Is.  or  2s.  higher  for  the  brown  and  mid  qualities. 
In  refined  goods,  there  has  been  considerable  business,  with  little  alteration  in  the  prices. 
In  low  lumps  there  has  been  most  business  done  at  70s.  to  72s.  for  packing.  The  better 
descriptions  have  been  taken  off  for  crashing.  Fine  loaves  for  the  double-refined  bounty, 
about  38s.  to  39s.  are  in  demand. — Foreign  Sugars. — There  are  few  sales  since  the 
agitation  of  the  new  sugar  duty. — East  India  Sugar. — The  public  sales  of  Mauritius, 
advertised,  10,000  bags  have  been  withdrawn  on  account  of  the  expected  duty. 

COFFEE. — The  sales  have  been  considerable;  British  plantation  sold  heavily;  foreign 
sold  rather  higher;  Havannah,  42s.  6d.  to  46s.  Gd. ;  good  Cheribon,  34s.  6d.  to  37s.  or  32s. 
The  Mocha,  about  1,600  bags,  sold  3s.  or  5s.  higher ;  St.  Domingo  taken  in  at  32s. ; 
middling  fine  coffee  2s.  or  3s.  lower. 

RUM,  BRANDY,  HOLLANDS. — The  duty  on  rum,  we  may  now  state,  is  settled  ;  there 
is  6s.  per  gallon  addition  to  be  placed  on  all  spirits,  and  the  bonus  to  the  West  India 

M.M.  New  Seriet.—Vol  IX.  No.  55.  R 


130  Commercial  Report.  [\TuLY, 

planter  is  the  reduction  of  the  duty  on  sugar.  In  rum  the  only  purchase  is  a  parcel  of 
Jamaica,  28s.  to  38s.,  over  at  2s.  lOd.  to  3s.  In  brandy  and  Geneva  there  is  no  business 
expected. 

HEMP,  FLAX,  TALLOW. — The  tallow  market  continues  steady,  but  without  briskness. 
The  purchases  reported  are  inconsiderable.  Flax  is  still  in  demand.  Hemp  dull. 

1829.  1830- 

Stocks  of  tallow  in  London,  9,426.  -  -  15,170. 
Delivery  weekly,  -  -  605.  -  -  1,177- 
Price,  Mondays,  -  -  3?s.6d.  -  -  35s. 

Course  of  Foreign  Exchange — Amsterdam,  12.  7£ — Rotterdam,  12.  9^. — Antwerp, 
12.  6 — Hamburgh,  14.  2 — Paris,  25.  70 — Bordeaux,  25.  95.— Frankfort,  154.— Peters- 
burgh,  10.— Vienna,  10.  16.— Madrid,  36— Cadiz,  36  0£.— Bilboa,  36.— Barcelona, 
35.  0£.— Seville,  35.  0^.— Gibraltar,  47-  O^.— Leghorn,  48.— Genoa,  25.  80.— Venice, 
47.  0£. — Malta,  48.  0^.— Naples,  39.  Of.— Palermo,  119— Lisbon,  44. — Oporto,  44. 
—Rio  Janeiro,  23 — Bahia,  28.— Dublin,  1.  0^. — Cork,  1.  0£. 

Bullion  per   Oz. — Portugal   Gold    in  Coin,    £0.   Os.   Od — Foreign   Gold    in   Bars, 

£3.  17s.  9d New  Doubloons,  £0.  Os.  Od.— New  Dollars,  £0.  4s.  0£d Silver  in  Bars 

(standard),  £0.  Os.  Od. 

Premiums  on  Shares  and  Canals,  and  Joint  Stock  Companies,  at  the  Office  of 
WOLFE,  Brothers,  23,  Change  Alley,  CornhilL — Birmingham  CANAL  (i  sh.),  29U — 
Coventry,  860/ — Ellesmereand  Chester,  991 — Grand  Junction,  294/. — Rennet  and  Avon, 

28^1. — Leeds  and  Liverpool,  462%l — Oxford,  640/ Regent's,  2317.— Trent  and  Mersey 

($  sh.),  780/.— Warwick  and  Birmingham,  284^.— London  DOCKS  (Stock),  80§7.— West 

India   (Stock),  194/ East  London  WATER- WORKS,  1241. — Grand  Junction,  56/. — 

West  Middlesex,  81/ Alliance  British  and  Foreign  INSURANCE,  9fZ Globe,  1594?. 

— Guardian,  27f/. — Hope  Life,  Tl. — Imperial  Fire,  122/. — GAS-LIGHT  Westminster 
chartered  Company,  GQ±l. — City,  19U — British,  ±1.  dis.— Leeds,  1951. 


ALPHABETICAL  LIST  OF  BANKRUPTCIES, 

Announcedfrom  May  22d  to  June  22 d,  1830,  in  the  London  Gazette. 

BANKRUPTCIES  SUPERSEDED.  Brydone,  C.  Leicester,  carver  and  gilder.  (Thomas, 

New-inn 

W.  Grieves,  Holborn-bridge,  cheesemonger  Bardsley,  E.jun.  Oldham,  cotton-spinner.    (Milne 

W.  Walker,    sen.  and  W.  Walker,  jun.  Knares-  and  Co.  Temple ;  Casson,  Manchester 

borough,  linen-drapers  Buxion,   R.  Skinner-street,  milliner.      (Manning, 

T.  Bagnall,  Westwell,  baker  Dyer's-buildings 

W.  Haward,  Braintree,  tailor  Biggs,  B.  Walworth,  surveyor.    (Teesdale  and  Co. 

T.  Hussey,  High  Holborn,  hat-manufacturer  Fenchureh-street 

W.  Gausden  and  J.  Jacobs,  Barbican,  clothes-sales-  Beeston,  H.  and  J.  Dunston,  Hounsditch,  manu- 

men  facturers.    (Wilks  and  Co.  Finsbury-place 

B.  Green,  York,  corn-miller  Branthwaite,  J.  Manchester,  ironmonger.  (Holmer 

L.  Isaac  and  I.  Isaac,  Manchester,  furriers  and  Co.  New-inn ;  Booker,  Liverpool 

G.  Aspinwall,  Manchester,  commission-agent  Bretherton,  F.  Liverpool,  coach-proprietor.    (Ad- 

W.  Atkinson,  Cleckheaton,  woolstapler  lington  and  Co.  Bedford-row  ;  Topham  and  Son, 

Y.Dempster,  Mitcham,  schoolmaster  Liverpool 

N.  Gaskell,  Wigan,  ironmaster  Bilton,  J.    Newman-street,  lodging-house-keeper. 

W.  J.  Hooper  and  C.Burrowes,  Adam-street,  wine-  (Williams,  Southampton-buildings 

merchant  Burne,   W.  Birchin-lane,  clothier.    (Burt,  Mitre- 

S.  Plumbe,  Great  Russel-street,  surgeon  court 

Bartram,  S.  Whitechapel-road,  coach -maker.  (Hud- 

BANKRUPTCTES  son« Great  St.  Helen's 

'1J^'  Barnes,  C.  Kingston-upon-Hull,  earthenware -dealer. 

[This  Mnnth  llfl  1  (Barbor,  Fetter-lane;  Young,  Stoke-upon-Trent 

L 1  his  Month  1 1«.  J  Crosby,  J.  Spofforth,  joiner.    (Randel,  Walbrook; 

Stables,  Leeds 

Solicitors'  Names  are  in  parentheses.  Cussons,  T.  sen.  G.  Cussons,  and  T.  Cussons,  jun. 

Manchester,    cotton-spinners.     (Hurd  and  Co. 

Alexander,  T.  Manchester,  merchant.    (Ellis  and  Temple  ;  Seddon,  Manchester 

CD.  Chancery-lane ;  Hampson,  Manchester  Cordingley,  J.  T.  Lombard-street,  laceman.    (Ro- 

Arthur,  J.  Bath,  baker.    (Williams,   Gray's-inn;  binson  and  Co.  Pancras-lane 

Watts  and  Co.  Bath  Crutch,  H.  and  A.  Lowdwater,  Bucks,  paper-minu- 

Acaster,  T.  Brorherton,  rope-maker.  (King,  Castle-  facturers.    (Maugham  and  Co.  Chancery-lane 

street;  Mason  and  Co.  Doncaster  Cromack,  G.  Leeds,  cloth-manufacturer.    (Blake- 
Andrew,  J.  Stoney-Stratford,  innkeeper.    (Austen  lock  and  Co.  Serjeant's-inn ;  Nicholson  and  Co. 

and  Co.  Gray's-inn;  Congreve,  Stoney-Stratford  Leeds 

Allinson,  T.  and  J.  Williams,  Manchester,   coal-  Chadwick,   J.  Leeds,  victualler.    (Hardwick  and 

merchants.  (Appleby  and  Co.  Gray's-inn  ;  White-  Co.  Lawrence-lane;  Lee,  Leeds 

head,  Manchester  Carlile,  R.  Ashburton, serge-manufacturer.  (Ander- 

Adams,  J.  Preston,  tailor.     (Norris  and  Co.  John-  ton  and  Co.  New  Bridge-street ;  Terrell  and  Co. 

street;  Turner,  Preston  Exeter 

Bardwell,. I. F. Wood-street, warehouseman. (Legge,  Debbie,   A.   Manchester,  wine-merchant.     (Cole, 

Roll'R-huildings  Serjeant's-inn ;  Dumville,  Manchester 


1830.] 


Bankrupts. 


131 


Dunn,  S.  Exeter,  clothier.  .(Holmer  and  Co.  New- 
inn  ;  Waldron,  Wiveliscombe 

Diver,  R.  Great  Yarmouth,  chemist.  (Swain  and 
Co.  Old  Jewry ;  Palmer,  Great  Yarmouth 

Evans,  W.  Liverpool,  grocer.  (Williamson,  Liver- 
Ely,  H.  Great  Yarmouth,  blocksmith.  (Ayton, 
Milman-street;  Palmer,  Great  Yarmouth 

Fletcher,  W.  H.  Pentridge,  brewer.  (Hall  and  Co. 
New  Boswell-court ;  Hall,  Alfreton 

Foulkes,  F.  Lambeth,  builder.  (Selby,  Serjeant's- 
inn 

Furlong,  J.  Birkenhead,  joiner.  (Dean,  Temple; 
Peacock,  Liverpool 

Fawley,  J.  Berwick-street,  painter.  (Wilkinson 
and  Co.  Bucklersbuty 

Fitze,  W.  New  North-road,  builder.  (Sheffield  and 
Sons,  Preseot-street 

Flower,  H.  Welling,  chemist.  (Bostock  and  Co. 
George-street 

Ford,  W.  and  W.  Renninson,  Lambeth,  pill-box- 
makers.  (Carter  and  Co.  Lord.Mayor's-court 

Farris,  T.  Canterbury,  money-scrivener.  (Cross, 
Surry-street 

Glover,  J.  Lutterworth,  horse-dealer.  (Fuller  and 
Co.  Carlton-chambers 

Glover,  E.  Ditleswell,  horse-dealer.  (Fuller  and 
Co.  Wratislaw,  Rugby 

Gower,  S.  S.  Caterham,  farmer.  (Chester,  Newing- 
ton  Butts;  Long,  Croydon 

Goodall,  J.  Monmouth,  nurseryman.  (Pugh,  King's- 
road;  Phillpotts,  Monmouth 

Hyslop,  M.  Token-House-Yard  and  Jamaica,  mer- 
chant. (Swain  and  Co.  Frederick's-place 

Harvey,  S.  Bodmin,  builder.  (Smith,  Basinghall- 
street ;  Wallis,  Bodmin 

Holmes,  W.  Salford,  ironmonger.  (Adlington  and 
Co.  Bedford-row;  Thompson,  Manchester 

Hollis,  C.  Upper  Stamford-street,  engineer.  (Cole, 
Furnivars-inn ;  Griffiths,  Monmouth 

Hobbs,  J.  Arlington-place,  ironmonger.  (Patten 
and  Co.  Hatton  Garden 

Hagar,  J.  and  T.  Morton,  paper-makers.  (Lake, 
Cateaton-street 

Hogg,  T.  and  B.  Leeds,  woollen  cloth-manufactu- 
rers. (Wilson,  Southampton-street;  Payne  and 
Co.  Leeds 

Haslop,  T.  Bury  St.  Edmund's,  saddler.  (Walter, 
Symond's-inn ;  Wayman,  Bury  St.  Edmunds 

Hudson,  S.  Birmingham,  apothecary.  (Clarkeand 
Co.  Lincoln's-Inn-Fields  ;  Colmore,  Birmingham 

Innes,  P.  R.  and  H.  Wilson,  Milbank,  coal-mer- 
chants. (Simpson,  Austin  Friars 

Johnston,  R.  Water-street,  coal-merchant.  (Smith, 
Great  Eastcheap 

Johnson, A.M.  West-Smithfield, victualler.  (Evans, 
Gray's-inn 

Jenkins,  W.  Lyme  Regis,  shipwright.  (Holmer  and 
Co.  New-inn  ;  Murly,  Crewkerne 

kaiii ,  H.  Kingsland-road,  agnet.  (Station  and  Co. 
Shoreditch 

King,  W.  R.  W.  Hosier-lane,  tinplate-worker. 
(Young  and  Co.  St.  Mildred's-court 

Lloyd,  R.  Jerusalem  Coffee-house,  master-mariner. 
(Spurr,  Wamford-court 

Lamprell,  W.  Chelmsford,  linen-draper.  (Jones, 
Sise-lane 

Lloyd,  L.  Skinner-street,  furrier.  (Spencer,  St, 
Mildred's-court 

Lautour,  P.  A.  Welbeck-street,  dealer.  (Charsley 
and  Co.  Mark-lane 

Leeson,  W.  jun.  Nottingham,  hosier.  (Austen  and 
Co.  Gray's-inn;  Percy  and  Co.  Nottingham 

Locke,  W.  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  innkeeper.  (Austen, 
Gray's-inn ;  Wing,  Bury  St.  Edmund's 

Marsh,  T.Bath,  mercer.  (Jones,  Crosby -square; 
Ilellings,  Bath 

Macdonald,  J.  Knaresborough,  draper.  (Dawsou 
and  Co.  New  Boswell-court ;  Taylor,  Knares- 
borough 

Metz.  S.  Gerrard-street,  bill-broker.  (Westlake, 
Tavistock-street 

Marshall,  W.  and  J.  Stoney  and  J.  Dyson,  Almond- 
bury  ,  machine-makers.  (Walker  and  Co.  Exche- 
quer-office; doughs  and  Co.  Huddersfield 

Millgate,  F.  Friday-street,  warehouseman.  (Davi- 
son,  Bread  street 

Miller,  B.  Chester,  brewer.  (Philpot  and  Co. 
Southampton-street ;  Finchett  and  Co.  Chester 

Norcott,  W.  Covent-garden,  wine-merchant.  (Gale, 
Basinghall-street 

Owen,  T.  Gledrid,  innkeeper.  (Blackstock  and 
Co.  Temple  ;  Harper,  Whitchurch 

Owen,  J.  Chiswell-street,  victualler.  (Clarke,  Bas- 
inghall-street 


Peake,  T.  jun.  Oxford,  wine-merchant.  (Miller, 
Ely-place 

Puruell,  G.  Shoreditch,  victualler.  (Bousfleld, 
Chatham-place 

Pengree,  H.  C.  A.  W.  and  J.  Noldwritt,  Lambeth, 
ironmongers.  (Rhodes  and  Co.  Chancery-lane 

Parker,  J.  Whittington,  horse-dealer.  (Cardaleand 
Co.  Gray's-inn;  Parker,  Worcester 

Pope,  J.  Edmonton,  builder.  (Spyer,  Broad-street- 
buildings 

Peacock,  T.  Northallerton,  linen-draper.  (Lever, 
Gray's-inn;  Anderson,  York 

Priestley,  J.  Halifax,  stuff-merchant.  (Evittand 
Co.  Haydon-square;  Craven,  Halifax 

Puckeridge,  J.  Draycott,  farmer.  (Eyne  and  Co. 
Gray's-inn ;  Wood,  Mailborough 

Ravald,  R.  Manchester,  ironmonger.  (Perkins and 
Co.  Gray's-inn;  Thompson,  Manchester 

Roberts,  R.  Liverpool,  builder.  (Chester,  Staple- 
inn  ;  Morecroft,  Liverpool 

Reid,  A.  Bishop  Auckland,  draper.  (Taylor,  Cle- 
ment's-inn's  Marshall,  Durham 

Rule,  W.  Chacewater,  grocer.  (Clarke  and  Co. 
Lincoln's-inn-Fields  ;  Cooke  and  Sons,  Bristol 

Robertson,  I.  Clerkenwell,  grocer.  (Bennet,  Can- 
non-street 

Riven,  A.  and  T.  Egham,  brewer.  (Richings, 
Sraines 

Reid,  A.  Bishop  Auckland,  draper.  (Taylor,  Cle- 
ment's-inn;  Marshall,  Durham 

Searle,  J.  Lombard-street,  bill-broker.  (Brutton 
and  Co.  Broad-street;  Brutton,  Exeter 

Smith,  W.  Warrington,  W.  Sowden,  Manchester, 
and  J.  Sowden,  Warrington,  cot.tpn-manufactu- 
rers.  (Taylor  and  Co.  Temple;  Fitchett  and  Co. 
Warrington 

Stansbie,  H.  Birmingham,  paper-dealer.  (Tooke 
and  Co.  Bedford-row ;  Capper,  Birmingham 

Shore,  W.  A.  Stoke-upon-Trent,  wine-merchant. 
(Michael,  Red  Lion-square 

Sadler,  W.  Dartford,  lime-burner.  (Rush,  Crown- 
court 

Salisbury,  T.  Liverpool,  sail-maker.  (Blackstock 
and  Co.  Temple;  Deane,  Liverpool 

Sellars,  A.  Manchester,  chemist.  (HurdandCo. 
Temple ;  Pendlebury,  Bolton-le-Moors 

Scott,  W.  Norwich,  bombasin-manufacturer.  (Lyth- 
goe,  Essex-street ;  Winter,  Norwich 

Shackleton,  J.  Skipton,  innkeeper.  (Still  and  Co. 
Lincoln's-inn ;  Netherwood,  Keighley 

Scott,  W.  New  Village,  York,  linen-draper.  (Ros- 
ser  and  Son,  Gray's  inn  ;  England  and  Co.  Hull 

Snowden,  W.  Hallow,  builder.  (Byrne,  Exchequer- 
Office  ;  Brookes  and  Co.  Tewkesbury 

Taylor,  J.  Carlisle,  wine-merchant.  (Mounsey  and 
Co.  Staple-inn  ;  Hodgson,  Wigton 

Thomas,  J.  Shepton-Mallet,  victualler.  (Williams, 
Gray's-inn  ;  Watts,  Yeovil 

Tucker,  R.  and  T.  Tower-Royal,  stationers. 
(Richardson,  Ironmonger-lane 

Townshend,  R.  Great  Yarmouth,  mast-maker. 
(Taylor  and  Co.  Inner  Temple;  Hickling, 
Lowestoft 

Were,  J.  E.  Bedminster,  tanner.  (Stephens,  Bed- 
ford-row 

Wylie,  H.  Bank-chambers,  merchant  (Atkins, 
Fox  Ordinary-court,  Nicholas-lane 

Walker,  J.  Lambeth,  builder.  (Lewis,  Warwick- 
square 

Webster,  W.  H.  Oldbury,  druggist.  (Barbor,  Fet- 
ter-lane; Fellowes,  jun.  Dudley 

Woodward,  E.  Chelmsford,  linen-draper.  (Sole, 
Aldermanbury 

Williams,  T.  Cheltenham,  coal-merchant.  (King, 
Serjeant's-inn ;  Croad,  Cheltenham 

Webster,  W.  Whitechapel,  perfumer.  (Norton, 
New-street,  Bishopsgate 

Whitaker,  R.  New  Cavendish-street,  linen-draper. 
(Turner,  Basing-lane 

Walker,  W.  sen.  and  W.  jun.  Knaresborough, 
drapers.  (Strangways  and  Co.  Bernard's-inn ; 
Gill,  Knaresborough 

Willett,  T.  W.  Ernest-street, cheesemonger.  (Roe, 
Gray's-inn 

Walkden,  T.  Islington-green,  china-dealer.  (Dun- 
can, Lincoln's-inn-Fields 

White,  J.  G.  Minchinhampton,  coal-merchant. 
(Beetham,  Freeman's-court 

Walker,  F.  Knaresborough,  grocer.  (Blakelock 
and  Co.  Serjeant 's-inn ;  Richardson,  Knares- 
borough 

Wright,  A.  Louth,  currier.  (Hicks  and  Co.  Gray's- 
inn  ;  Allison,  Louth 

Young,  G.  Newington-Butts,  upholsterer.  (Thor^i- 
bury,  Chancery-lane 
R  2 


C     132    ] 
ECCLESIASTICAL  PREFERMENTS. 


[JULY, 


Rev.  C.  J.  Glyn  to  the  Rectory  of  Witehampton. 
Dorset— Rev.  F.  Litchfield  to  the  Rectory  of  El- 
ham,  Kent.— Rev.  G.  P.  Lowther  to  the  Rectory  of 
Oreheston,  Wilts — Rev.  B.  H.  Kennedy  to  the 

Mastership  of  Harrow  School Rev.  T.  Comyn  to 

the  Perpetual  Curacy  of  Wantesden,  Suffolk.— Rev. 
E.  H.  G.  Williams  to  the  Rectory  of  St.  Peter,  Marl- 
borough.— Rev.  C.  Richards  to  the  Vicarage  of 
Wanborough,  Wilts.— Rev.  W.  Manleverer  to  the 
Vicarage  of  Tynan,  Armagh.--Rev.  C.  Bardin  to 
the  Rectory  of  Derrylovan,  Tyrone.— Rev.  E. 
Jackson  to  the  Deanery  of  Armagh. — Rev.  E.  B. 
Sparke  to  the  Vicarage  of  Littleport,  Cambridge, 


with  Barley  Rectory,  Herts. — Rev.  J.  Warne  to  the 
Priest-Vicar's  Stall,  Exeter.— Rev.  G.  D.  Faithful 
holds  the  Rectory  of  Bygrave,  with  Hatfield  Rec- 
tory, Herts. — Rev.  J.  Davies  to  the  Living  of  St. 
Pancras,  Chichester — Rev.  G.Arthur  to  the  Vica- 
rage of  Tamerton  Foliat,  Devon. — Rev.  A.  J.  Thorp 
to  the  Perpetual  Curacy  of  Deneston,  Suffolk — Rev. 
G.  O.  Miller  to  the  Rectory  of  Milton,  Northamp- 
tonshire.— Rev.  A.  S.  Atcheson  to  the  Rectory  of 
Teigh,  Rutland — Rev.  C.  Sympson,  to  the  Vicarage 
of  East  Drayton,  with  Askham,  Notts. — Rev.  W. 
Cresswell  to  the  Head-Mastership  of  Chatham  and 
Rochester  School. 


CHRONOLOGY,  MARRIAGES,  DEATHS,  ETC. 


CHRONOLOGY. 

May  25.  By  papers  ordered  to  be  printed  by  the 
House  of  Commons,  relative  to  the  expenses  incur- 
red for  the  Preventive  Service  on  the  Coast,  it  ap- 
pears that  the  total  expense  was,  in  1816,  331,1527.; 
iu  1817,  242,5107. ;  in  1818,  392,7477.;  in  1819, 
434,2627.  ;  in  1820,  457,6087. ;  in  1821,  623,6677.  ;  in 
1822,581,72!l/. ;  in  1823,  616,3397. ;  in  1824,  581,3417.; 
in  1825,  604,3647.  ;  in  1826,  606,0977.  ;  in  1827, 
581,8887.;  in  1828,  563,6827. ;  and  in  1829,  543,4837. 

26.  Anniversary  of  the  National  School  Society 
held  at  the  Central  School,  Baldwin's  Gardens, 
when  the  report  was  made,  stating  that  216,571  boys 
and  girls  were  now  receiving  instruction  in  Sunday 
and  Daily  Schools ;  and  that  in  27  places  schools  had 
entirely  failed  during  1829,  although  they  had  re- 
ceived pecuniary  assistance  from  the  Society  ! ! ! 

26.  Sessions  commenced  at  the  Old  Bailey. 

28.  Earl  of  Aberdeen  presented  to  the  House  of 
Lords  all  the  papers  in  possession  of  ministers  re- 
lative to  the  affairs  of  Greece,  and  Prince  Leopold's 
refusal  to  become  sovereign  of  that  country. 

28.  London  Gazette  contained  an  order  from 
Privy  Council   for  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  to 
prepare  a  form  of  prayer  for  the  King's  recovery. 
(N.  B.   The  Jews  and  other  sects  had  some  days 
previously  put   up    prayers   for    the    same   pur- 
pose.*) 

29.  Sign-Manual  Bill,  after   passing  Lords  and 
Commons,  (enabling  ministers  to  stamp  the  King's 
name  to  acts  of  the  legislature,  &c.  during  His 
Majesty's  illness),  received  the  Royal  Assent. 

31.  The  King  appointed  Lord  Farnborough,  Gen. 
Sir  W.  Keppel,  and  Major-Gen.  Sir  A.  F.  Barnard, 
to  be  his  Commissioners  for  affixing  His  Majesty's 
signature  to  instruments  requiring  the  same. 

June  1.  Meeting  held  at  the  City  of  London 
Tavern,  for  the  purpose  of  affording  protection  to 
preachers  iu  the  open  air,  against  the  interference 
of  the  new  police ;  when  resolutions  were  entered 
into,  and  subscriptions  formed  for  establishing 
"  The  British  Open  Air  and  Annual  Fair  Preach- 
ing Society." 

2.  Sessions  ended  at  the  Old  Bailey,  when  eleven 

*  The  prayer  for  the  King's  recovery  was  first 
used  on  Saturday  last,  in  Westminster  Abbey  and 
St.  Margaret's  Church — being  the  anniversary  of 
King  Charles's  Restoration.  One  might  have  sup- 
posed that  on  such  an  occasion,  when  the  interven- 
tion of  Divine  Providence  was  to  be  solemnly  in- 
voked for  the  recovery  of  a  beneficent  but  afflicted 
Monarch,  that  the  attendance  would  have  been 
numerous  and  becoming  :  the  fact,  however,  is, 
that  there  were  not  more  than  twenty  members  of 
the  House  of  Commons  present !  !  !— Berkshire 
Chronicle,  June  5. 


prisoners  received  sentence  of  death,  and  seventy- 
four  were  transported. 

3.  Annual  meeting  of  the   Canada   Company's 
Proprietors  at  the  London  Tavern,  when  the  re- 
port stated,  that  the  number  of  emigrants  was  in- 
creasing ;  sales  of  land  about  40,000  acres  per  ann. ; 
average  price  obtained  in  the  last  six  months,  I  Os.  2rf. 
per  acre;  in  Huron  tract  about  11,300  had  been 
sold  at  7*.  6d.  per  acre;  at  Guelph  1,516  acres  had 
been  cleared,    416    of  them   under  wheat  crops : 
the   purchases  in   this  district  had  amounted  to 
15,274  acres. 

4.  In  the  House  of  Common,  15, 0007.  voted  for 
the  law  charges  of  1830  !* 

7.  The  punishment  of  Death  for  the  crime  of 
Forgery  done  away  with  in  the  House  of  Commons 
by  a  majority  of  13  votes — 151  against  138. 

10.  Public  meeting  held  at  Freemasons'  Tavern, 
to  consider  the  best  means  of  relieving  the  metro- 
polis from  the  inconvenience  arising  from  the  pre- 
sent system  of  interment,  when  resolutions  were 
passed  for  erecting  a  "  Metropolitan  Cemetery,' 
out  of  the  town,  similar  to  that  of  Pere  la  Chaise 
at  Paris. 

15.  Motion  unanimously  carried  in  the  House  of 
Commons  for  forming  a  select  committee  to  inquire 
into  the  present  state  of  the  colony  of  Sierra  Leone. 

21.  News  arrived  from  Paris,  stating  that  the 
French  fleet  anchored  in  the  bay  of  Sidi  Ferach 
(Algiers),  June  14 ;  and  that  the  whole  of  the  army 
had  landed  that  day,  and  taken  possession  of  the 
enemy's  batteries.  The  despatches  were  signed  by 
Count  Bourmont,  the  military  commander,  and  by 
Admiral  Duperre. 

26.  Death  of  George  IV.  announced. 

*  Mr.  R.  Gordon  said,  "  In  the  recent  celebrated 
persecutions  of  the  Press,  the  costs  were  greatly  in- 
creased by  the  fees  to  more  counsel  than  was  neces- 
sary ;  in  the  case  of  Alexander,  six  counsel  were 
employed  for  the  persecution  of  one  unfortunate 
printer,  who  defended  himself."  The  Attorney- 
General  said,  "  the  reason  for  emploving  so  many 
counsel  was  because  frequently  he  and  the  Solicitor- 
General  were  liable  to  be  called  away."  To  which 
Mr.  Gordon  answered :  "  It  was  quite  plain,  of 
course,  that  the  Attorney  and  Solicitor  General 
could  not  each  be  in  two  places  at  once — but  were 
they  to  be  paid  for  being  so  ?  Were  they  to  receive 
fees  for  being  there  when  it  was  impossible  they 
could  attend?"  Mr.  Harvey  said,  "  In  such  cases 
they  were  not  paid  for  any  thing  but  for  receiving 
the  money  !"  Sir  E.  Knatchbull  said,  "  I  never 
before  heard  of  an  Attorney-General  instituting  a 
public  prosecution  after  a  private  one  had  been  com- 
menced !"  Sir  R.  Peel  disclaimed  having  had  the 
slightest  share  in  promoting  the  recent  prosecutions 
against  the  Press  !  He  even  declared  that  the  Attor- 
ney-General had  not  consulted  him  before  the  cri- 
minal proceedings  against  the  libel  on  his  character 
had  taken  place  ! ! ! 


1830.] 


Marriages  and  Deaths. 


133 


MARRIAGES. 

At  Holland  House,  Lord  Lilford,  to  Hon.  Miss 
Fox,  daughter  of  Lord  Holland.  —  W.  Bissett,  esq. 
nephew  to  Bishop  of  Raphol,  to  Lady  Alicia  How- 
ard, sister  to  Earl  of  Wicklow.— E.  M.  Whyte,  esq. 
to  Alice  Maria,  second  daughter  of  Sir  J.  Owen, 
Bart.  M.  P.— Rev.  R.  F.  Laurence,  nephew  to 
Archbishop  of  Cashel,  to  Sarah,  daughter  of  late 
Hon.  Judge  Mayne.— Major-General  Sir  C.  Phillips, 
to  Harriet,  relict  of  Rev.  R.  Strode. — At  St. 
George's,  Hanover  Square,  Lord  Ashley,  M.  P. 
eldest  son  of  the  Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  to  the  Lady 
Emily,  eldest  daughter  of  Earl  Cowper.— Sir  Charles 
Aldis,  to  Miss  Anne  Maria  Viel.— Viscount  St.  Maur, 
son  of  the  Duke  of  Somerset,  to  Miss  Sheridan, 
grand-daughter  of  the  late  Right  Hon.  Richard 
Brinsley  Sheridan. — At  Marylebone  Church,  Rev. 
C.  Baring,  youngest  son  of  Sir  T.  Baring,  Bart., 
M.  P.,  to  Miss  Sealey. — At  Paddington  Church, 
Edward  Willson  Duffln,  Esq.,  M.D.,  Fellow  of  the 
Royal  College  of  Surgeons,  Edinburgh,  to  Agnes, 
eldest  daughter  of  John  White,  Esq.,  of  West- 
bourn-green. 

MARRIAGE  ABROAD. 

At  Florence,  the  Noble  Demetrio  Corgialegno,  of 
Cephalonia,  to  Miss  E.  Harris. 

DEATHS. 

At  Worthing,  Hon.  W.  H.  Irby,  brother  of  the 
late  Lord  Boston. — At  Blyborough  Hall,  P.  J.  Luard, 
esq.  7C. — In  Hill-street,  Lady  Amherst,  90,  relict  of 
Jeffery,  Lord  Amherst.— At  Blackheath,  R.  Sower- 
by,  esq.  94 — Lord  Kilwarden. — At  Roehampton, 
Lady  Mary  Hill,  daughter  of  late  Marquis  of  Down- 


shire.— In  Great  Cumberland-street,  Right  Hon. 
Richard  Cavendish,  Lord  Waterpark.— At  Walcot 
Park,  the  Lady  Henrietta  Antonia  Herbert,  72, 
Countess  of  Powis,  and  mother  of  the  Duchess  of 
Northumberland.— At  Weymouth,  Rev.  Sir  C.  T. 
Waller,  bart— In  Berkeley-square,  General  Mey- 
rick.-At  Hastings,  Lady  Charlotte  Stopford,  daugh- 
ter of  the  Earl  of  Cerestown — At  Cheltenham,  Hon. 
Mrs.  Strangways — At  Shepton  Mallett,  T.  Taylor, 
104!— At  Tonbridge  Wells,  Hon.  and  Rev.  M.  J. 

Stapleton,  eldest  son  of  Lord  Le  Despencer At 

Sedburgh,   Rev.  Dr.  Somerville,  90. — At  Dalston, 

Mrs.  Kidd,  77,  sister  of  Sir  C.  Flower,  bart In 

York-street,  Lieutenant-General  Raymond. — Field- 
Marshal  Earl  Harcourt,  88. — At  Hertingfordbury, 
Mrs.  Ridley,  widow  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  H.  Ridley, 
and  sister  of  Lady  Eldon.— Near  Worcester,  W. 
Price,  esq. :  he  had  been  assistant  secretary  and  in- 
terpreter to  the  British  Embassy  to  Persia,  under 
Sir  Gore  Ouseley. — In  Park-street,  Sir  Lucas  Pepys, 
bart.,  89,  physician  to  George  III. — His  Majesty 
George  IV. 

DEATHS  ABROAD. 

At  Abbeville,  82,  Peter  Joseph  Bertin,  formerly 
Superior  of  the  College  of  Abbeville,  and  Member 
of  the  Academy  of  Amiens.  He  had  resided  in  Ox- 
ford; and  presented  D.  C.  L.  with  the  present  Arch- 
bishop of  Tours,  a  peer  of  France.  They  resided 
in  the  University  as  teachers  of  the  French  language 
for  many  years,  and,  as  a  mark  of  respect,  the 
University  defrayed  the  expenses  attending  their 
honorary  degrees.— In  Green  County  (North  Ca- 
rolina), Anthony  Van  Pett,  126  ! — At  Florence, 
Rev.  Dr.  D.  Berguer,  78. 


MONTHLY  PROVINCIAL  OCCURRENCES. 


NORTHUMBERLAND. — The  unemployed 
seamen  of  the  port  of  Sunderland  have  addressed  a 
letter  to  the  ship-owners  of  that  port,  stating  that 
there  are  "at  least  between  two  and  three  hundred 
seamen,  who  have  served  their  apprenticeship  out 
of  the  port,  totally  out  of  employment ;"  and  beg, 
therefore,  humbly  to  represent  their  case  to  the  ship- 
owners of  their  native  port,  trusting  that  they  will 
give  them  the  preference,  whenever  vacancies  take 
place  in  their  respective  ships,  to  utter  strangers, 
who  (as  they  state)  are  now  very  numerously  in- 
creasing in  the  port." — Tyne  Mercury. 

June  1.  According  to  annual  custom,  the  children 
of  the  Sunday  schools  in  this  town  (Newcastle)  and 
neighbourhood,  connected  with  the  Newcastle 
Sunday  School  Union,  were  assembled  at  Newcas- 
tle and  at  Gateshead,  where  they  went  through  the 
services  appointed  for  the  occasion.  In  the  evening 
a  Report  for  the  last  year  was  read,  which  stated 
that  the  formation  of  Sunday  school  libraries,  in 
the  country  schools,  had  been  actively  prosecuted, 
and  they  were  found  to  be  very  useful  auxiliaries ; 
and  that  the  numbers  of  schools,  teachers,  and  chil- 
dren, are  as  follow  : — 

Sch.    Teach.      Chil. 

Connected  with  the  Union,    128     2,489     13,397 
Not  connected,  about  43        410       4,319 


Making  a  total  of 


171      2,905       17,716 


CUMBERLAND.-Thursday  last  being  the  day 
appointed  for  opening  the  new  corn-market  in  As- 
patria,  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  a  large  con- 
course of  respectable  farmers  and  yeomen  had  as- 
sembled, and  laden  carts,  with  numbers  of  persons 
on  horseback  and  on  foot,  poured  into  the  village  in 


rapid  succession  until  the  time  fixed  for  commencing 
the  market.  The  quantity  of  grain  and  other  articles 
of  necessary  consumption  offered  for  sale  was  much 
greater  than  could  have  been  anticipated  by  the 
warmest  friends  of  this  new  and  apparently  pros- 
perous undertaking.  From  the  spirit  displayed  by 
the  principal  inhabitants,  who  have  spared  neither 
expense  nor  exertions  to  ensure  the  success  of  the 
new  mart,  and  the  animation  conspicuous  amongst 
both  buyers  and  sellers,  there  is  little  doubt  of  As- 
patria  becoming,  if  not  a  first-rate,  yet  a  very  consi- 
derable market,  and  that  at  no  distant  period Cum- 
berland Pacquet,  June  15. 

YORKSHIRE.-The  Northern  Exhibition  of 
the  Works  of  Art  was  opened  to  the  public,  May  24, 
in  Leeds,  having  on  the  Saturday  preceding  been 
submitted  to  the  inspection  of  the  members  and 
their  friends.  Many  of  the  pictures  are  by  ancient 
masters,  but  they  are  principally  works  of  modern 
British  artists.  The  numbers  extend  to  439,  and 
the  arrangement  appears  to  have  been  made  with 
great  skill  and  judgment. 

Our  attention  has  been  called  to  a  disgraceful 
practice,  which  we  are  informed  prevails  in  certain 
villages  in  the  vicinity  of  this  city  :  this  custom  is  no 
less  than  the  holding  of  a  sort  of  weekly  slave-mar- 
ket. In  one  of  the  villages  alluded  to,  it  is,  we  under- 
stand, the  habit  of  the  farmers  to  assemble  every 
Friday  evening ;  and  being  congregated,  a  list  of  the 
labouring  poor  who  are  in  the  receipt  of  parochial 
relief  is  produced,  and  their  work  for  the  ensuing 
week  is  put  up  to  auction  to  the  highest  bidder  !  and 
notice  is  sent  to  them,  that,  for  the  next  week,  they 
belong  to  Farmer  Such-an-one ;  and  to  him  they 
must  go,  for  him  they  must  labour,  and  that  too 
for  the  price  he  has  bid  for  them  in  the  market. 


134         Provincial  Occurrences :  Lancashire,  Lincolnshire,  $c.     [JULY, 


The  price  of  their  labour  varies  from  three  to  seven 
shillings.  In  point  of  personal  independence,  the 
wretch  who  toils  among  West  Indian  sugar-canes 
stands  his  equal,  and  we  fear  surpasses  him  in  per- 
sonal comforts.  Ought  such  a  system  as  this  to  be 
tolerated  for  one  moment  in  Britain,  the  land  of 
anti-slavery  institutions?  The  uncompromising 
enemies  of  slavery  in  every  form,  whether  among 
blacks  or  whites,  we  have  discharged  our  duty  by 
holding  up  the  matter  to  public  opprobrium,  and  we 
trust  it  will  meet  with  universal  condemnation. — 
York  Courant,  June  8. 

At  the  twenty-fourth  half-yearly  meeting  of  the 
Leeds,  Skyrack,  and  Morley  Savings'  Bank,  held 
lately,  it  was  ascertained,  that  since  the  commence- 
ment of  that  valuable  institution,  6662  persons  have 
paid  into  the  Bank  the  sum  of  274 ,21 31.  Os.  6d.  and 
have,  as  their  occasions  required,  withdrawn  the  sum 
of  174,249?.  13s.  5d.  The  interest-money  withdrawn 
bears  a  very  small  proportion  to  the  interest  accu- 
mulated; and  there  now  remains,  including  such 
accumulation,  the  sum  of  133,757?.  13s.  lid.  at  the 
disposal  of  the  present  depositors,  being  an  increase 
of  3,979?.  2-r .  id.  since  last  November. 

A  meeting  has  been  held  at  Leeds  of  the  friends 
of  "The  British  and  Foreign  School  Society," 
whose  object  is  to  promote  the  daily  instruction  of 
the  children  of  the  poor  of  every  class  and  sect  in 
the  elementary  branches  of  education,  and  in  moral 
and  religious  principles.* 

The  village  of  Wykeham,  near  Scarbro',  proba- 
bly possesses  institutions  and  scientific  knowledge 
in  a  degree  unequalled  by  any  hamlet  in  the  king- 
dom. For  there  is  "A  Literary  and  Debating  So- 
ciety," a  Theatrical  Company,  with  appropriate 
wardrobe  and  scenery,  and  a  Professor  delivering 
lectures  on  Astronomy  !  !  I—York  Chronicle,  June 
IT. 

LANCASHIRE. — The  number  of  emigrants  who 
have  sailed  from  Liverpool  for  the  United  States 
of  America,  from  1st  February  to  28th  May,  as  ac- 
curately as  the  information  can  be  obtained,  is  as 
follows :— To  New  York,  nearly  5000 ;  Philadelphia, 
from  500  to  600 ;  Boston,  50  to  100 ;  Baltimore,  600 
to  600;  number  to  British  America,  600  to  700. 
The  fares  are  from  25  to  35  guineas  for  the  cabin 
(finding  every  requisite  during  the  voyage),  and 
from  31.  10s.  to  61.  in  the  steerage  (the  parties  pro- 
viding themselves).  The  expense  of  landing  is  one 
dollar,  to  be  paid  by  each  emigrant  at  every  port 
except  Boston. 

The  Common  Council  of  Liverpool  has  announced 
the  intention  of  the  corporation  this  year  to  give 
100/.  in  aid  of  art,  and  50/.  for  the  best  picture,  any 
subject  and  any  size,  painted  expressly  for  the  ex- 
hibition in  Liverpool,  and  the  competition  to  be 
open  to  the  artists  of  the  United  Kingdom. 

*  Pleasing  accounts  of  the  operations  of  the  Insti- 
tution in  England,  Ireland,  Scotland,  France,  Spain, 
Italy,  Malta,  Denmark,  Swisserland,  Russia,  Ma- 
deira, India,  Greece,  South  Africa,  West  Indies, 
South  America,  United  States,  the  Canadas,  Nova 
Scotia,  &c.  were  exhibited.  The  information  rela- 
tive to  Greece  is  particularly  interesting.  Flourish- 
ing schools  have  been  established  in  Syra,  Zea,  An- 
dros,  Tino,  Mycono,  Samos,  Kalumno,  Naxos, 
Paros,  Anasi,  Santorino,  Gambasa,  Siphno,  Ser- 
pho,  Thermia,  Morea,  Egina,  Mytilene,  and  Cy- 
prus. Even  in  the  Turkish  dominions  they  are  now 
about  to  establish  schools.  In  Greece  and  Turkey, 
as  well  as  in  India,  female  education  has  hitherto 
been  almost  wholly  neglected.  A  brighter  day  has 
thus  dawned  upon  the  world  ;  and  the  British  and 
Foreign  School  Society  is  already  become  a  power- 
ful instrument  in  the  promotion  of  good  ;  and  the 
pecuniary  aid  of  those  who  have  ' '  enough  and  to 
spare"  is  alone  wanting  to  render  it  still  more  ex- 
tensively useful.— Leeds  Intelligencer. 


June  14,  the  directors  of  the  Manchester  and 
Liveipool  railway  proceeded  from  the  latter  to  the 
former  place,  on  a  tour  of  inspection.  The  engine 
used  on  the  occasion  was  a  new  one,  constructed  by 
Messrs.  Stephenson,  and  designated  the  Arrow.  In 
addition  to  its  own  weight,  with  its  appendages  for 
the  supply  of  water,  &c.  seven  tons,  it  drew  behind 
it  seven  waggons  laden  with  stones,  weighing  27 
tons:  behind  these  were  stationed  two  coaches,  con- 
taining the  directors  and  their  friends,  weighing 
five  tons  more ;  making  a  total  weight  of  39  tons  ! 
With  this  weight  the  engine  compassed  the  distance 
(rather  more  than  30  miles)  in  two  hours  and  one 
minute,  exclusive  of  19  minutes  taken  up  in  stop- 
pages for  the  necessary  supply  of  fuel  and  water 

The  average  speed  on  the  return  from  Manchester 
was  20  miles  an  hour  ;  and  in  passing  over  Chat 
Moss,  the  carriages  proceeded  for  a  time  at  the  rate 
of 27  miles!!! 

LINCOLNSHIRE.-Coionel  Johnson,  the  High 
Sheriff  of  this  county,  has  addressed  a  letter  to  the 
Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  appointed  to 
investigate  the  expense  attending  the  service  of  the 
Shrievalty,  which  exhibits  the  extortionate  amount 
of  charges  which  are  levied  upon  that  office  in  ad- 
dition to  private  expenses.  After  enumerating  the 
respective  articles  in  a  catalogue  raisonne,  "  To 
crown  the  whole,"  he  says,  "  the  fees  to  officers 
in  the  various  government  departments  (Marshal, 
Usher,  Cursitor  Baron,  Comptroller  of  the  Pipe, 
Bag-Man,  &c.),  for  passing  the  Sheriff's  accounts 
and  obtaining  the  inadequate  allowances,  are  no 
less  than  H3l.  8s.  7d." 

SOMERSETSHIRE.-The  Royal  Assent  has 
been  given  to  an  act  for  draining  and  improving 
the  low  lands  in  the  parishes  of  Othery,  Middlezoy, 
and  Westonzoyland.  Also  to  an  act  for  building  a 
bridge  over  the  river  Avon,  from  Clifton  to  the 
opposite  of  the  river,  and  for  making  roads  and  ap- 
proaches thereto.  Also  to  an  act  for  repairing  and 
improving  several  roads  leading  from  Chard  to 
Drempton,  in  the  county  of  Dorset.  Also  to  an  act 
for  making  certain  new  roads  in  the  counties  of 
Somerset  and  Devon,  leading  to  and  from  Tiverton ; 
and  also  for  repairing  several  roads  leading  to  and 
from  Wiveliscombe. 

CHESHIRE — A  public  meeting  of  the  artisans 
and  others  of  Macclesfield  and  the  neighbourhood 
has  been  lately  held,  pursuant  to  a  notice  placarded 
on  the  walls,  to  take  into  consideration  the  pro- 
priety of  forming  an  Association  for  the  Protection 
of  Labour,  when  several  resolutions  were  unani- 
mously agreed  on  for  that  purpose. 

DERBYSHIRE.-The expenditure  for  this  coun- 
ty, from  Easter  Sessions,  1829,  to  those  of  1830, 
amounts  to  16,744*.  8s.  Oid. —upwards  of  12,000?.  of 
which  has  been  consigned  to  law  and  its  conco- 
mitants. 

DEVONSHIRE.-ThenewMarket-placeatTiver- 
ton,  which  has  been  erected  by  subscription,  and 
cost  9000?.,  was  opened,  June  8.  The  workmen 
employed  were  regaled  with  a  plentiful  dinner  and 
plenty  of  strong  beer  at  the  expense  of  the  Com- 
missioners, and  the  day  was  ushered  in  by  the  ring- 
ing of  bells,  &c.  The  cupola  and  principal  entrances 
were  adorned  with  laurels,  flags,  &c.,  and  the  whole 
presented  a  scene  of  the  gayest  and  most  pleasing 
description.  The  market  was  very  fully  attended, 
and  displayed  a  show  of  meat  of  the  first  quality ; 
and  every  one  seemed  highly  pleased  with  the  choice 
of  situation,  and  the  able  manner  in  which  every 


1830.] 


Leicestershire,  Herts,  Gloucestershire,  &jc. 


135 


part  of  the  building  is  erected.  The  whole,  when 
completely  finished,  will  occupy  an  area  of  two 
acres,  with  four  entrances  to  the  principal  streets. 

LEICESTERSHIRE.— We  have  to  congratulate 
the  public  on  the  opening  of  the  Bagworth  colliery, 
which  took  place  on  Thursday.  The  coal  is  of  an 
excellent  quality,  and  is  likely  to  prove  very  bene- 
ficial to  the  neighbouihood  when  the  new  railway 
(which  will  pass  near  Bagworth)  is  finished.  A 
beautiful  steam-engine  of  130-horse  power  has  been 
erected  at  the  colliery.— Leicester  Paper. 

HERTS.— A  Savings'  Bank  at  Hertford,  which, 
12  months  ago,  had  invested  in  Government  securi- 
ties upwards  of  12.000/.,  has,  at  this  moment,  only  a 
balance  in  hand  of  a  little  more  than  240?. !  It  is 
computed,  that  out  of  490  labourers  and  artisans, 
who,  at  the  period  we  are  alluding  to,  were  getting 
a  living,  and  "  laying  by  for  a  rainy  day  in  the 
Savings'  Bank  at  Hertford,"  more  than  four-fifths 
are  now  reduced  to  a  state  of  pauperism ! ! ! 

GLOUCESTERSHIRE.— The  pulpits  of  our  se- 
veral churches  were  on  Sunday  last  most  success- 
fully devoted  to  the  cause  of  that  excellent  institu- 
tion, the  Female  Orphan  Asylum.  The  result  of 
the  collections  was  as  follows : — St.  Mary's  Church, 
66?.  5s.  7d.;  Trinity  Church,  501. 15s.  6d.;  St.  John's 
Church,  411.  6s.  7d.  We  believe  the  rules  of  this 
charity  are  well  known ;  but,  for  the  information  of 
strangers,  it  may  be  just  added,  that  Candidates  are 
eligible  from  all  parts  of  the  kingdom,  and  that 
children  deprived  of  either  father  or  mother  are  ad- 
mitted to  the  benefits  of  the  establishment. — Chel- 
tenham Chronicle,  June  17. 

WILTS—June  9,  the  farmers  of  the  parish  of 
Oaksey,  agreed  to  reduce  the  wages  of  the  Female 
Haymakers  from  tenpence  to  ninepence  per  day, 
which  caused  general  dissatisfaction  among  them ; 
some  of  whom  assembled  next  morning  at  the  bel- 
fry, and  tolled  the  bell !  Their  numbers  soon  in- 
creased to  between  60  and  70 ;  when  a  "  resolution 
was  passed,"  that  they  would  not  return  to  their  work 
till  the  old  price  of  tenpence  per  day  should  be  ob- 
tained from  their  employers ! 

BUCKS — We  have  to  record  another  instance  of 
the  fatal  effects  of  the  abominable  system  of  prize- 
fighting, which,  to  the  eternal  disgrace  of  the  Le- 
gislature, has  so  long  been  permitted.  A  great  fight 
took  place  near  the  village  of  Hanslope  in  Buck- 
inghamshire, for  200?.  a  side,  between  Simon  Byrne, 
an  Irishman,  and  Alexander  M'Kay,  a  Scotchman. 
The  latter,  who  lost  the  fight,  was  most  cruelly 
beaten.  He  received  many  heavy  blows  about  the 
left  temple ;  and  his  face  was  so  frightfully  cut  and 
disfigured,  that  the  features  were  lost  in  a  confused 
mass  of  gore  and  bruises  !  He  was  bled  in  the  ring, 
but  was  totally  insensible ;  and  he  died  the  next 
day !  Byrne  is  in  custody.* 


*  Another  young  man  named  King  has  also  been 
killed  in  "  a  pitched  battle."  To  this  murderous 
catalogue  is  also  to  be  added  a  third  fatal  termi- 
nation of  one  of  these  brutal  encounters,  which 
took  place  at  Apperley  (Gloucestershire)  between 
W.  Palmer  and  T.  Wintle,  which  ended  in  the 
death  of  the  latter.  When  will  these  diabolical 
atrocities  be  put  an  end  to  ?  When  will  the  opulent 
persons  (noblemen  !  and  gentlemen  !)  who  disgrace 
the  character  of  the  nation  by  being  present  at  these 
fights  be  apprehended  and  made  examples  of?  Mr. 
Chambers,  the  magistrate  of  Union  Hall,  in  refer- 
ence to  the  late  fatal  battle  between  the  Irish  and 
Scotch  Champions,  expressed  himself  disposed  to 
send  some  of  these  wealthy  patrons  of  boxing  to  the 
treadmill ! ! } 


OXFORDSHIRE.—June  2,  the  Oxfordshire 
Agricultural  Society  held  their  Anniversary  for 
distribution  of  Prizes,  &c.  on  the  premises  of  Mr. 
Davey  at  Dorchester.  Colonel  Tilson  (the  Pre- 
sident), the  two  County  Members,  and  other  gen- 
tlemen of  the  county  were  present ;  and  about  100 
dined  in  Mr.  Davey's  large  barn,*  whiclvwas  neatly 
fitted  up  for  the  occasion.  The  day  passed  with 
great  conviviality,  several  good  songs  were  sung, 
and  some  interesting  speeches  on  agricultural  sub- 
jects were  spoken  by  different  members  on  their 
healths  being  drank.  At  the  dinner  it  was  sug- 
gested that  the  anniversary  meeting  should  be  held 
alternately  at  Dorchester,  Woodstock,  Banbury, 
and  Witney,  in  future. 

WORCESTERSHIRE.— A  valuable  stratum  of 
rock  salt  has  been  recently  discovered  at  Stoke  Prior, 
within  a  few  miles  of  Droitwich,  where  brine-pits 
have  been  worked  for  many  centuries.  The  process 
of  boring  for  brine  was  going  on  in  an  enclosure  of 
about  six  acres,  the  property  of  Mr.  Farden.  When 
at  the  depth  of  100  yards,  the  workmen  unexpect- 
edly met  with  several  veins  of  rock  salt,  and,  after 
penetrating  a  few  yards  lower,  they  came  to  a  con- 
tinuous stratum  of  that  valuable  mineral.  The 
stratum  has  been  bored  to  the  extent  of  ten  yards, 
and  so  far  it  is  ascertained  to  be  solid ;  and  it  is 
imagined  that  the  rock  is  of  a  much  greater  depth, 
and  spreads  over  a  wide  field.  The  quality  of  the 
rock  is  excellent. 

WAR  WICKS  HIRE.—The  Dissenters  of  Bir- 
mingham have  had  a  meeting  on  that  part  of  the 
bill  for  regulating  the  Birmingham  Free  Grammar 
School  which  enacts  that  "  no  person  shall  be 
elected  a  governor  who  is  not  a  member  of  the  Es- 
tablished Church  of  England."  They  determined 
to  oppose  this  obnoxious  clause,  and  it  has  been 
done  with  effect,  for  it  has  since  been  taken  out  of 
the  Bill ;  and  in  consequence  of  a  subsequent  meet- 
ing of  the  Inhabitants,  a  petition  to  Parliament  has 
been  voted,  specifying,  "  That  it  seems  highly  ex- 
pedient that  the  Bill  should  be  withdrawn  for  the 
present  session"— and  the  House  of  Lords  have  ad- 
journed its  consideration. 

SHROPSHIRE.— By  the  abstract  of  the  accounts 
of  the  trustees  of  the  Srewsbury  streets,  it  appears 
that  the  sum  of  23,128?.  "is.  8d.  has  been  paid  from 
June,  1821 ,  to  August,  1829,  for  improving,  lighting, 
watching,  &c.  the  streets  of  that  town. 

NORFOLK. — On  opening  a  bridge  recently,  con- 
nected with  the  stupendous  undertaking  which  is 
now  going  on  in  this  county,  Colonel  Harvey  said, 
"  they  had  met  to  open  a  bridge  which  would  re- 
main for  ages  a  splendid  monument  of  the  skill  and 
judgment  of  their  engineer,  exceeding  in  magnitude, 
by  several  feet,  not  only  the  span  of  that  at  St.  Ca- 
tharine's Dock,  but  of  any  in  the  kingdom."  We 
are  further  told,  in  the  detail  of  the  proceedings  of 
the  day,  that  in  less  than  two  short  months,  a  lock 
capable  of  receiving  the  largest  class  of  His  Majes- 
ty's frigates  will  be  finished,  and  in  less  than  six 
months  the  communication  with  the  sea  will  be 
completed ! 

MONMOUTHSHIRE.— The  extensive  tract  of 


*  That  a  barn  should  have  been  chosen  for  such 
a  dinner  as  this,  and  for  such  a  place  as  Oxford, 
has,  it  seems,  surprised  many  of  its  friends  and 
supporters ;  who  have  hinted  the  propriety  of  hold- 
ing the  anniversary  meeting,  and  the  distribution 
of  prizes  and  the  dinner  to  take  place  in  the  Town, 
Hall. 


136 


Provincial  Occurrences  : — Scotland  and  Ireland.        Q JULY, 


woodland  country  eastward  of  Monmouth,  com- 
prising the  Beaulieu  Grove,  Hadnock  Wood,  and 
the  crown  property,  have  become  a  scene  of  devas- 
tation by  the  ravages  of  blight.  Thousands  of  oaks 
which  a  few  days  since  presented  pleasing  verdure 
have  been  entirely  stripped  of  their  foliage,  and 
have  become  winter-like  in  appearance.  The  grub 
has  confined  itself  to  the  oak  stores  or  trees ;  and 
when  the  top  leaves  of  one  tree  are  devoured,  the 
insects  lower  themselves  by  a  fibrous  web  which 
they  spin,  and  ascend  the  next.  There  are  few  oaks 
throughout  the  whole  of  these  woods  but  what  have 
been  visited  by  this  destroyer  of  vegetation.  The 
oldest  woodwards  on  this  property  do  not  remember 
such  destruction  to  the  oak. 

SCOTLAND.— A  society  has  been  formed  at 
Glasgow  by  several  professional  gentlemen,  mer- 
chants, and  manufacturers,  resident  there  and  neigh- 
bourhood, under  the  title  of  "  The  Glasgow  Celtic 
Society  for  promoting  Literary  and  other  Improve- 
ments connected  with  the  Highlands."  Two  of  the 
resolutions  of  the  Society  are  as  follbw :  1st,  That, 
for  ascertaining  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  im- 
provement of  the  Gaelic  languageVhich  will  be  mosi 
agreeable  to  the  Highlanders  generally,  the  Society 
shall  cordially  invite  the  opinion  or  suggestions  of 
all  those  who  take  an  interest  in  the  matter,  and 
also  give  Prizes  for  Essays  on  the  subject ;  and  shall 
exert  its  energies  to  effect  such  improvement  as, 
after  mature  discussion  and  deliberation,  appears 
most  expedient;  and,  2d,  That  the  efforts  of  the  So- 
ciety will  likewise  be  exerted  to  promote  Gaelic  litera- 
ture generally,  and  diffuse  useful  information  among 
the  Highlanders,  as  well  as  to  effect  such  other  im- 
provements connected  with  the  Highlands  as  may 
be  deemed  expedient. 

It  is  about  5  years  since  a  Scottish  Ladies'  Society 
for  promoting  Female  Education  in  Greece  was 
formed,  and  from  their  Report  it  appears  that  they 
had  succeeded  in  putting  their  benevolent  theory  to 
the  test  of  experiment.  Last  spring  they  dispatched 
Miss  Robertson  to  Corfu  as  their  agent,  with  in- 
structions to  commence  operations  in  that  island, 
who,  on  consulting  Sir  Frederick  Adam,  the  gover- 
nor of  the  Ionian  Archipelago,  found  that  there  were 
two  modes  by  which  she  might  commence  her  la- 
bours. One  was  by  starting  a  school  for  the  children 
of  the  higher  classes — the  other  by  opening  a  semi- 
nary on  the  Lancasterian  plan  for  those  of  lower 
parentage.  At  the  date  of  Miss  Robertson's  last 
letter,  her  own  school  was  in  a  flourishing  state, 
and  her  boarders  were  40  in  number.  The  Scottish 
Ladies'  Committee,  though  their  funds  were  ex- 
hausted, resolved  to  trust  to  the  liberality  of  the 
friends  of  education,  and  empowered  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Lowndes  to  continue  the  other  school  at  their  ex- 
pense. Thus  encouraged,  he  not  only  continued 
his  school  at  Potamo,  but  opened  a  new  one  in  the 
village  of  Castrades.  The  same  gentleman  has,  more- 
over, made  arrangements  for  forming  a  foreign  cor- 
responding committee  at  Corfu,  consisting  of  3  En- 
glish clergymen  and  3  respectable  Greeks.  Hopes 
are  held  out  that  the  labours  of  the  Society  may  be 
equally  successful  in  Cephalonia. 

June  was  ushered  in  with  a  shower  of  snow  !  For 
some  days  previous  the  weather  was  exceedingly 
cold  and  boisterous,  and  in  the  Highlands  the  drift- 
ing snow  compelled  the  people  who  were  busy  casting 
peats,  in  some  places  to  leave  the  moors.  The  Ca- 
ledonian coach  drove  upwards  of  20  miles  of  the 
road  betwixt  Blair  and  Inverness  through  snow; 
and  some  of  the  higher  range  of  the  Grampians  ap- 
peared in  the  same  covering.  The  unseasonableness 
of  the  weather  has  not,  however,  affected  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  crops.  Potatoe-planting  is  every 


where  finished,  and  the  sowing  pf  Swedish  tur- 
nips is  going  actively  forward. — Perth  Courier. 

WALES.— The  improvements  introduced  by  the 
march  of  mechanical  intellect  in  the  North  of  Eng- 
land are  rapidly  extending  themselves  in  this  part  of 
the  country.  Last  week  an  improved  railway  and 
self-acting  inclined  plane,  of  nearly  half  a  mile  in. 
length,  were  opened  in  the  immediate  neighbour- 
hood of  Swansea,  which  appear  to  merit  the  inspec- 
tion of  the  scientific  and  curious  in  these  matters. 
This  inclined  plane  connects  the  Pentre  Colliery,  the 
property  of  the  Landore  Colliery  Company,  with 
the  Swansea  Canal,  and  has  been  formed  at  con- 
siderable expense,  the  embankment  being  in  some 
parts  above  20  feet  high.  10  tons  of  coal  are  passed 
at  a  time  over  the  space  of  nearly  half  a  mile  in  2 
minutes,  being  at  the  rate  of  15  miles  per  hour. 
Thus  this  simple  arrangement  would  enable  the 
proprietors,  if  their  demand  required  it,  allowing 
an  interval  of  3  minutes  each  time  for  casting  off 
and  reconnecting  the  empty  and  full  waggons,  to 
send  down  120  tons  of  coal  in  an  hour. — The  Cam- 
brian. 

IRELAND. — At  no  time  was  distress  more  pre- 
valent in  Ireland  than  at  the  present  moment:  , 
pauperism  and  starvation  are  staring  her  in  the 
face.  Potatoes,  of  the  only  description  now  eatable, 
are  tenpence  a  stone  in  Dublin  market;  and  so 
scarce  and  dear  are  they  in  all  the  country  parts  of 
Ireland,  that  it  is  to  be  feared  the  poor  will  speedily 
have  to  endure  all  the  horrors  of  famine.  The  late 
Meeting  at  the  Dublin  Mendicity  Institution  needs 
neither  note  nor  comment.  It  appears  that  the 
funds  of  that  Institution  are  reduced  to  two  shil- 
lings and  sixpence,  with  nearly  3,000  unfortunate 
beings  totally  dependent  upon  it  for  support!  An 
alarming  rise  in  the  price  of  oatmeal  has  like- 
wise taken  place.  In  Tipperary  the  peasantry  are 
actually  famishing,  so  that  provisions  cannot  be 
conveyed  from  place  to  place  without  an  armed 
escort.  All  the  fairs  recently  held  have  been  mi- 
serable failures.  In  Kerry  and  Clare  many  thousands 
are  indebted  to  charitable  contributions  for  the 
scanty  sustenance  they  receive.  In  Sligo  the  di- 
stress is  said  to  equal  that  which  prevailed  in  the 
memorable  summer  of  1822.  An  Enniskillen  Journal 
says  that  nothing  equal  to  the  pressure  of  want  and 
distress  felt  at  present  by  the  poor  of  that  town  has 
been  experienced  during  the  last  fifteen  years! — 
The  Warder. 

At  a  Meeting  of  the  Parishioners  of  St.  Thomas's 
Parish,  Dublin,  June  12,  It  was  Resolved— That 
we,  in  common  with  our  fellow-subjects  of  every 
rank  and  persuasion,  have  learned  with  deep  dis- 
appointment and  regret  the  avowed  intention  of 
Government  to  force  u  pon  this  already  impoverished 
Country,  in  direct  opposition  to  the  interests,  and 
utterly  regardless  of  the  expressed  feelings  of  its 
People,  a  new,  uncalled-for,  and  oppressive  system 
of  Taxation,  under  the  pretext  of  Assimilating 
"  The  Duties  of  the  United  Kingdom,"  and  that 
too  at  a  time  when  they  have  relieved  the  fostered 
and  therefore  wealthy  and  flourishing  portion  of  the 
Empire  of  Taxes  to  the  amount  of  upwards  of 
Three  Millions.— The  Warder. 

With  sincere  satisfaction  we  have  been  informed 
that  the  Protestant  Colonization  Society  has  taken 
a  large  tract  of  land,  consisting,  as  we  have  heard, 
of  about  12,000  acres,  from  Sir  Edward  Hayes*, 
Bart.,  situated  near  Stranorlar,  county  Donegal, 
at  3s.  per  acre,  and  of  such  a  description  that  bul- 
locks might  graze  on  most  part  of  it ;  and  we  hear 
a  considerable  portion  of  it  is  occupied  in  that  way 
at  present — The  Warder. 


THE 

MONTHLY    MAGAZINE    | 

OF 

POLITICS,  LITERATURE,  AND  THE  BELLES  LETTRES. 
VOL.  X.]  AUGUST,  1830.  [No.  5b*. 

KING    WILLIAM    THE    FOURTH. 

SHARING  fully  in  the  general  hope  that  better  times  are  at  hand,  and, 
rejoicing  in  the  general  joy  at  the  King's  accession,  we  have  thought  it 
a  duty  to  devote  the  first  part  of  our  present  publication  to  a  brief  nar- 
rative of  the  life  of  his  present  Majesty. 

William  Henry,  now  King  William  the  IVth,  was  the  third  son  of 
George  the  Third,  and  was  born  in  August  J  76'5,  three  years  after  the 
birth  of  the  late  king. 

As  it  was  the  intention  of  George  the  Third  to  make  his  sons  service- 
able to  their  country,  the  young  prince  was  intended  from  an  early  age 
for  the  NAVY,  the  King  justly  looking  upon  that  noble  service  as  worthy 
of  all  honour,  and,  like  the  true  patriot  that  he  was,  desiring  that  he 
should  be  seen  by  his  people  contributing  like  other  fathers  to  the  glory 
of  his  country.  The  young  prince  entered  the  navy  towards  the  close 
of  the  American  war,  but  was  fortunately  in  time  to  be  present  in  the 
great  battle  fought  by  Rodney  against  the  Spanish  fleet  under  Langara. 
He  was  at  that  period  fourteen  years  old.  The  ship  in  which  he  was 
Midshipman  was  the  Prince  George  of  98  guns,  so  named  in  honour 
of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  bearing  the  flag  of  Admiral  Digby. 

After  the  victory  over  the  Spaniards  which  established  Rodney's  fame, 
retrieved  the  honour  lost  by  the  blunders  of  our  military  officers,  and 
showed  the  English  government  what  the  English  people  had  never 
doubted,  that  the  Navy  was  the  true  bulwark  of  the  nation,  while  the 
army  was  at  best  but  a  doubtful  instrument  of  success  abroad,  and 
might  be  a  formidable  means  of  injury  to  the  liberties  of  Britons  j  the 
prince's  ship  was  employed  in  pursuing  the  remnants  of  the  enemy's 
naval  force  in  the  West  Indies.  The  Prince  George  was  fortunate  in 
meeting  a  French  convoy  escorted  by  a  ship  of  the  line  and  some  smaller 
vessels  of  war.  The  fighting  ships  were  captured  and  the  convoy  dis- 
persed or  taken. 

His  Royal  Highness  was  still  a  Midshipman,  for  it  was  the  especial 
order  of  the  King  that  he  should  go  through  the  gradations  of  service 
like  any  other  officer.  And  this  circumstance  gave  rise  to  a  striking 
and  natural  remark  of  the  Spanish  admiral.  Langara,  at  the  close  of 
the  action  went  on  board  Rodney's  ship,  and  when  he  expressed  a  desire 
of  returning  to  his  own,  he  was  waited  on  by  the  little  midshipman,  hat- 
in-hand,  to  tell  him  that  the  boat  was  ready.  Rodney  introduced  the 
boy,  mentioning  his  rank :  on  which  Langara  lifted  up  his  eyes,  exclaim- 
ing, that  England  might  well  be  irresistible  at  sea,  when  the  Son  of  her 
King  was  thus  content  to  go  through  the  humblest  ranks  of  her  service ! 
The  royal  family  were,  in  general,  large  formed  and  athletic  figures. 
M.M.  New  Series,—  VOL.  X.  No.  56.  S 


138  King  William  the  Fourth.  [Auo. 

The  Duke  of  Clarence  was  under  their  stature,  but  his  frame  was  com- 
pact, and  appeared  to  be  so  much  fitted  for  the  hardships  of  a  naval 
life,  that  it  was  probably  one  of  the  King's  inducements  to  select  him 
for  the  sea.  Various  anecdotes  are  told  of  his  personal  hardihood  and 
spirit,  and  peculiarly  of  his  taking  his  full  share  in  the  common  pri- 
vations and  rough  work  of  the  midshipman's  life,  without  any  reserve 
on  account  of  his  personal  rank.  The  story  of  his  quarrel  with  his  fel- 
low-midshipman, since  Captain  Sturt,  is  one  of  the  instances.  From 
some  accident  the  two  boys  disagreed  on  the  deck ;  when  Sturt  roundly 
told  the  Prince  that  "  but  for  his  being  a  Prince,  he  would  give  him  a 
threshing."  The  Brunswick  blood  was  up  in  arms  at  once :  the  boy 
pulled  off  his  jacket,  which  had  some  little  distinguishing  ornament  of 
lace  on  its  collar.  "  You  will  give  me  a  threshing  ?"  said  he,  flinging 
the  jacket  from  him.  "  There  goes  the  Prince  !  now  try  !"  The  com- 
batants fell  to  without  delay,  and  fought,  till  some  of  the  officers,  not 
altogether  approving  of  this  style  of  affairs  of  honour,  separated  them ; 
some  blood  being  lost  on  the  occasion,  but  no  honour  !  and  the  warriors 
becoming,  of  course,  greater  friends  than  ever.  During  his  stay  in  the 
West  Indies  his  Royal  Highness  made  himself  popular  by  his  good 
humour  and  absence  of  the  pride  of  rank.  He  was  learning  the  business 
of  a  Sailor,  and  no  officer  in  the  fleet  went  through  all  the  points  of  duty 
or  companionship  in  more  seamanlike  style.  But  he  distinguished  him- 
self still  more  by  an  act  of  manly  feeling  for  an  unfortunate  brother- 
midshipman,  which  was  thus  detailed  at  the  time  in  a  letter  from  an 
officer  in  His  Majesty's  Ship  the  Torbay: — 

"  Port  Royal  Harbour,  April  17,  1783. 

"  The  last  time  Lord  Hood's  fleet  was  here,  a  court-martial  was  held 
on  Mr.  Benjamin  Lee,  midshipman,  for  disrespect  to  a  superior  officer, 
at  which  Lord  Hood  sat  as  president.  The  determination  of  the  court 
was  fatal  to  the  prisoner.  He  was  condemned  to  death.  Deeply  affected 
as  were  the  whole  body  of  midshipmen  at  this  dreadful  sentence,  they 
knew  not  how  to  obtain  a  remission  of  it,  since  Mr.  Lee  was  ordered 
for  execution;  while  they  had  not  time  to  make  their  appeal  to  the 
Admiralty,  and  despaired  of  success  in  a  petition  to  Admiral  Rowley. 
However,  his  Royal  Highness  generously  stepped  forth,  drew  up  a 
petition,  to  which  he  was  the  first  to  set  his  name,  and  solicited  the  rest 
of  the  midshipmen  in  port  to  follow  his  example.  He  then  carried  the 
petition  himself  to  the  admiral,  and  in^  the  most  pressing  and  urgent 
manner,  begged  the  life  of  an  unhappy  brother,  in  which  he  succeeded, 
and  Mr.  Lee  is  reprieved.  We  all  acknowledge  our  warmest  thanks  to 
our  humane  and  worthy  prince,  who  has  so  nobly  exerted  himself  in 
preserving  the  life  of  a  brother  sailor/' 

With  the  peace  the  French  and  Spanish  ports  were  thrown  open,  and 
his  Royal  Highness  made  the  tour  of  some  of  the  principal  islands, 
where  he  was  received  with  great  attention  by  the  French  and  Spanish 
officers.  In  the  course  of  his  visit  to  the  Havannah,  another  instance 
was  given  of  his  active  and  sailor-like  good-nature.  Some  of  the 
English  prisoners  had  in  some  way  or  other  during  the  war,  broken  the 
Spanish  regulations  relative  to  prisoners,  and  had  thereby  incurred  sen- 
tence of  death.  The  sentence  having  been  delayed,  probably  by  the  usual 
tardiness  rather  than  by  the  humanity  of  Spanish  law,  the  Spanish  gover- 
nor of  Louisiana,  Don  Galvez,  was  applied  to  instantly  by  the  prince, 


183Q-]  King  William  the  Fourth.  139 

and  after  a  brief  period  the  prisoners  were  sent  to  him.  His  Royal 
Highness  immediately  in  the  greatest  exultation  wrote  to  the  governor, 
thanking  him  for  a  boon  so  valuable  to  his  feelings  as  a  man  and  a 
Briton. 

"  SIR,, — I  want  words  to  express  to  your  Excellency  my  just  sense  of 
your  polite  letter,  of  the  delicate  manner  in  which  you  caused  it  to  be 
delivered,  and  of  your  generous  conduct  towards  the  unfortunate  men  in 
your  power.  Their  pardon  which  you  have  been  pleased  to  grant  on  my 
account,  is  the  most  agreeable  present  you  could  have  offered  me,  and  is 
strongly  characteristic  of  the  bravery  and  gallantry  of  the  Spanish 
character.  This  instance  increases,  if  possible,  my  opinion  of  your  Excel- 
lency's humanity,  which  had  appeared  on  so  many  occasions  during 
the  late  war.  Admiral  Rowley  is  to  despatch  a  vessel  to  Louisiana 
for  the  prisoners.  I  am  convinced  they  will  ever  think  of  your  Excel- 
lency's clemency  with  gratitude;  and  I  have  sent  a  copy  of  your 
letter  to  the  King,  my  father,  who  will  be  fully  sensible  of  your 
Excellency's  attention  to  me.  I  request  my  compliments  to  Madame 
Galvez,  and  that  you  will  be  assured  that  actions  so  noble  as  that  of 
your  Excellency  will  ever  be  remembered  by  Your's  sincerely, 

"  WILLIAM  P." 

Another  letter,  and  a  very  characteristic  one,  is  given,  in  which  he 
almost  predicted  Nelson's  eminence;  at  least  he  formed  his  opinion 
of  the  abilities  of  that  first  of  naval  heroes,  at  a  period  when  Nelson  was 
comparatively  unknown,  and  when  the  great  warrior  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean was  confined  to  the  gulphs  and  straits  of  the  West  Indies.  The 
Duke  of  Clarence,  speaking  of  his  own  service  on  the  West  India 
station,  gays,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend : 

"  It  was  at  this  time  that  I  particularly  observed  the  greatness  of 
Nelson's  superior  mind.  The  manner  in  which  he  enforced  the  spirit 
of  the  Navigation  Act,  first  drew  my  attention  to  the  commercial 
interests  of  our  country.  We  visited  the  different  islands  together;  and 
excepting  the  naval  tuition  which  I  had  received  on  board  the  Prince 
George,  when  the  present  Rear  Admiral  Keats  was  lieutenant  of  her, 
and  for  whom  we  both  entertained  a  sincere  regard,  my  mind  took  its 
first  decided  naval  turn  from  this  familiar  intercourse  with  Nelson."  . 

The  Prince's  intercourse  with  Nelson  arose  from  a  circumstance 
which,  in  the  beginning,  seemed  likely  to  have  ruined  that  great 
officer,  but  which,  by  the  odd  turns  that  apparent  disasters  sometimes 
take,  finally  secured  to  Nelson  both  a  wife  and  a  friend.  Nelson 
happening  to  be  senior  captain  on  the  Leeward  Island  station,  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  war,  had  thought  it  his  duty  to  see  that  British  law 
was  attended  to  in  all  points,  so  far  as  the  station  was  concerned.  The 
Navigation  Law  prohibiting  all  foreign  ships  from  trading  with  the 
islands,  and  Nelson  not  being  inclined  to  discover  any  reason  why 
America,  which  had  rendered  herself  a  foreigner,  should  transgress  the 
law,  immediately  on  his  dropping  anchor,  gave  notice  that  every  foreign 
vessel  which  did  not  quit  the  islands  within  forty-eight  hours,  should 
be  seized.  The  Americans/proud  of  their  success,  and  fond  of  making 
all  the  money  they  could  in  the  British  Islands,  pretended  to  think  the 
proclamation  not  applicable  to  themselves.  But  they  were  yet  to  know 
Nelson.  He  instantly  swept  the  harbour  of  Nevis,  and  finding  four 

S  2 


140  King  William  the  Fourth.  [Auo. 

Yankee  traders  there,  ordered  them  to  show  their  papers ;  the  evidence 
was  sufficient:  they  were  pronounced  foreigners,  to  the  great  astonish- 
ment of  Jonathan,  and  to  his  still  greater  astonishment,  they  were  pro- 
nounced legal  prizes.  The  owners  made  a  prodigious  clamour,  and 
applied  to  the  admiral  on  the  station,  who,  not  liking  to  involve  himself 
in  law,  was  on  the  point  of  giving  way  to  the  demand.  But  Nelson 
interfered,  his  civil  boldness  was  no  more  to  be  terrified  by  the  lawyers 
than  his  military  spirit  by  the  enemy.  He  insisted  on  his  being  in  the 
right,  and  he  finally  secured  the  prizes.  The  transaction  attracted  the 
notice  of  government,  who  highly  approved  of  the  decisive  and  clear 
conduct  of  the  navy  on  the  occasion,  returning  its  thanks,  however, 
to  the  wrong  quarter,  the  admiral.  But  the  facts  were  not  to  be  con- 
cealed, and  Nelson  gained,  on  the  spot,  all  the  credit  that  he  had 
deserved. 

This  conduct  particularly  attracted  the  notice  of  Mr.  Herbert,  the 
president  of  Nevis,  whose  niece,  Mrs.  Nesbitt,  Nelson  afterwards 
married.  Prince  William  was  also  so  much  struck  with  him,  that  he 
sought  the  first  opportunity  of  being  introduced,  and  continued  to  take 
all  opportunities  of  being  with  him  during  his  service  on  the  station. 

The  prince  after  serving  the  regular  time  in  each  rank,  received  his 
flag  in  1790,  as  rear  admiral  of  the  blue;  a  more  rapid  promotion,  of 
course,  than  can  be  expected  to  fall  to  the  lot  of  naval  officers  in  general, 
but  still  not  violating  the  regulations  of  the  navy.  He  had  about  a 
year  and  a  half  earlier  been  made  Duke  of  Clarence,  and  St.  Andrew's, 
and  Earl  of  Munster,  thus  taking  a  title  from  each  quarter  of  the 
British  Isles. 

From  this  period  his  Royal  Highness  had  no  command,  a  neglect 
against  which  he  very  frequently  and  strongly  remonstrated.  The  ground 
of  ministerial  objection  was  never  declared;  and  whether  it  was  from  an 
unwillingness  to  hazard  a  prince,  who  from  the  determined  celibacy, 
as  it  was  then  supposed,  of  the  Prince  of  Wales ;  and  the  casualties  that 
might  threaten  the  life  of  the  Duke  of  York,  then  commencing  his 
military  service ;  might  be  presumed  destined  to  succeed  to  the  throne,  a 
conjecture  to  which  the  fact  has  given  testimony  :  or  whether  the  objec- 
tion might  arise  from  the  fear  of  royal  etiquette  embarrassing  the  con- 
duct of  a  fleet ;  or  from  a  dread  of  the  duke's  inexperience  in  command 
on  a  large  scale,  where  the  loss  of  a  battle  might  lay  open  the  shores  of 
England  to  the  combined  fleets  of  Europe  under  the  revolutionary  flag  ; 
his  Royal  Highness  lived  from  that  period  in  retirement. 

Of  his  fitness  as  a  captain  of  a  frigate,  we  have  high  testimony. 
Nelson  in  a  letter  to  his  friend  Captain  Locker,  from  the  West  Indies, 
says — 

"  You  must  have  heard,  long  before  this  readies  you,  that  Prince 
William  is  under  my  command.  I  shall  endeavour  to  take  care  that 
he  is  not  a  loser  by  that  circumstance.  He  has  his  foibles  as  well  as 
private  men,  but  they  are  far  overbalanced  by  his  virtues.  In  his 
professional  line,  he  is  far  superior  to  near  two-thirds,  I  am  sure,  of  the 
list ;  and  in  attention  to  orders,  and  respect  to  his  superior  officers,  I 
hardly  know  his  equal.  His  Royal  Highness  keeps  up  strict  discipline 
in  his  ship,  and  without  paying  him  any  compliment,  she  is  one  of  the 
finest  ordered  frigates  I  have  seen." 

Of  the  private  career  of  the  prince,  we  have  no  desire  to  enter  deeply 
into  detail ;  the  unhappy  law  which  prohibits  the  marriage  of  the 


1830.]  King  William  the  Fourth.  141 

blood  royal  without  the  sanction  of  the  King,  naturally  exposes  the 
princes  to  a  species  of  connexion  which  offends  higher  laws  than  those  of 
the  land.  On  all  the  male  branches  of  the  royal  family,  charges  of  this 
obnoxious  kind  are  commonly  fastened ;  and  as  it  is  neither  our  purpose 
to  enlarge  upon  topics  that  cannot  serve  any  good  feeling,  nor  to  throw 
unsuitable  offence  upon  the  character  of  an  individual  who  is  now,  by 
the  laws  of  the  land,  the  possessor  of  the  crown,  we  turn  from  the 
discussion  altogether. 

The  Duke  made  frequent  applications  to  the  ministry  for  employment 
during  the  French  war.  But  some  powerful  competitor  always 
appeared,  and  the  Duke's  naval  ambition  was  disappointed.  In  par- 
ticular, he  had  made  strong  representations  to  his  royal  father  for 
the  command  of  the  Mediterranean  fleet,  from  which  Lord  Colling* 
wood,  then  in  infirm  health,  had  solicited  to  be  removed.  He  was 
disappointed;  and  the  disappointment,  though  it  might  not  have 
soured  a  disposition  which  seems  naturally  kind  and  good-natured, 
yet  produced  a  long  retirement  from  public  life.  While  his  royal 
brothers  were  mixing  in  general  society,  and  prominent  in  politics  and 
public  meetings,  the  Duke  of  Clarence  seldom  came  from  his  residence 
at  Bushy  Park.  He  stated  but  a  year  or  two  ago,  at  the  dinner  of  the 
Goldsmiths'  Company,  that  it  was  the  first  public  body  which  had  ever 
presented  him  with  its  freedom.  And  the  Covent  Garden  Theatrical 
Fund  of  the  year  before  last,  if  we  recollect  rightly,  gave  the  first 
instance  of  his  presiding  at  a  public  dinner.  It  is  no  flattery  to  say, 
for  it  was  universally  felt  at  the  time,  that  his  Royal  Highness  could  have 
been  deterred  from  public  appearance  by  no  personal  deficiency,  for 
he  is  a  good  public  speaker,  very  fluent,  ingenious  in  adopting  topics 
as  they  rise  before  him  in  the  business  of  the  day,  and  of  unwearied 
spirit  and  good- humour.  He  was  considered  to  have  made  one  of  the 
best  chairmen  that  the  theatrical  dinner  ever  had ;  and  those  who  have 
ever  tried  the  task  of  presiding  at  a  public  dinner,  know  the  trial  of 
temper,  quickness  of  conception,  arid  readiness  of  speech,  to  be  no 
easy  one. 

On  the  death  of  the  Princess  Charlotte,  the  necessity  of  providing 
for  the  succession,  produced  a  recommendation  from  the  Prince  Regent 
to  his  brothers,  to  marry.  The  Duke  of  Clarence  selected  the  Princess 
Adelaide  of  Saxe  Meinengen,  an  intelligent  and  estimable  princess, 
whose  conduct  since  her  arrival  in  this  country  has  made  her  highly 
popular,  and  who  may  render  an  important  service  to  English  morality 
by  following  the  example  of  Queen  Charlotte,  and  excluding  all  females 
of  dubious  character,  let  their  rank  be  what  it  may.  Her  majesty  may 
be  assured  that  in  a  measure  of  this  kind,  she  would  be  most  amply 
supported  by  the  goodwill" of  the  nation.  On  the  occasion  of  this 
marriage  it  became  necessary  to  separate  from  Mrs.  Jordan,  and  she 
retired  to  Boulogne  and  afterwards  to  St.  Cloud,  near  Paris,  where  she 
died  in  about  a  year,  of  some  neglected  constitutional  disorder.  It  was 
first  rumoured,  of  poverty.  But  subsequent  evidence  has  been  given, 
that  she  had  sufficient  means,  even  for  luxuries,  and  that  one  of  them 
was  a  diamond  ring  worth  a  hundred  guineas,  which  she  constantly 
wore,  and  which  of  course  precluded  any  actual  suffering  from  narrow 
circumstances. 

At  length  the  duke's  desire  for  professional  employment  was  about 
to  be  complied  with,  so  far  as  it  could  be  satisfied  by  a  command  in  a 


142  King  William  the  Fourth.  [Aue. 

period  of  peace.  He  had  in  the  Regency  been  appointed  Admiral  of 
the  Fleet,  and  had  in  that  capacity  escorted  the  Emperor  of  Russia  and 
King  of  Prussia  across  the  Channel,  on  their  visit  to  the  Prince  Regent 
in  1815. 

But  on  Mr.  Canning's  being  made  minister,  the  prospect  grew  still 
brighter  for  the  duke,  by  the  restoration  of  the  old  office  of  Lord  High- 
Admiral,  in  which  his  Royal  Highness  was  placed ;  the  minister  having 
by  this  manreuvre,  ensured  the  approbation  of  the  duke  as  prince,  and 
fairly  reckoning  upon  his  remembrance  of  the  favour  if  he  should  be 
king. 

But  Mr.  Canning's  death  in  1827,  dislocated  this  arrangement.  The 
Duke  of  Wellington  became  minister,  and  as  it  is  the  secret  policy  of 
that  noble  personage  to  engross  all  patronage,  he  could  not  but  look 
with  a  jealous  eye  upon  the  share  of  patronage  and  public  influence 
which  must  be  claimed  by  the  Admiralty,  while  it  had  a  prince,  the 
brother  of  the  King,  at  its  head.  The  probability  of  his  Royal  Highness's 
speedy  accession  to  the  throne  did  not  happen  to  strike  the  premier  in 
so  clear  a  light  as  the  advantage  of  getting  rid  of  an  authority  which 
might  derogate  so  much  from  the  supremacy  of  the  Horse  Guards. 
Among  the  very  first  performances  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  there- 
fore, was  the  dismissal  of  his  Royal  Highness,  and  the  restoration  of  the 
old  official  serving-men,  who  instinctively  look  upon  every  premier  as 
endowed  with  sagacity  supernatural.  The  mode  of  his  dismissing  his 
Royal  Highness  was  quite  a  la  militaire,  and  we  may  rely  upon  his  not 
forgetting  the  favour,  nor  the  mode  of  doing  it. 

The  fatal  indispositon  of  his  late  Majesty  again  drew  the  Duke  of 
Clarence  before  the  national  eye.  The  symptoms  of  the  King's  disorder 
were  from  the  beginning  pronounced  to  be  such  as  precluded  complete 
recovery,  and  might  bring  on  immediate  dissolution.  It  is  but  justice  to 
the  duke  to  say,  that  his  public  conduct  on  this  melancholy  occasion 
was  as  decorous,  as  his  private  intercourse  with  his  King  and  brother  was 
affectionate.  In  the  last  week  of  June  the  symptoms  of  death  were 
visible,  and  on  the  26th,  at  three  in  the  morning,  his  Majesty  died. 

In  a  few  hours  after,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  made  his  appearance  at 
Bushy  Park,  in  full  mourning,  and  did  homage  to  His  Royal  Highness 
as  King  of  the  British  empire.  On  the  following  Monday  His  Majesty 
was  proclaimed,  in  London,  by  the  title  of  King  William  the  Fourth, 
amid  great  acclamations.  The  same  ceremony  was  performed  through- 
out the  county  towns,  and  with  the  strongest  demonstrations  of  good-will 
and  loyalty.  The  King  has  since  led  a  life  of  constant  activity  ;  every 
day  being  completely  occupied,  from  an  early  hour,  with  reviewing 
troops,  receiving  ambassadors,  holding  levees,  and  the  other  fatiguing 
and  tedious,  but  necessary  forms  of  royalty.  Not  content  with  this 
fatigue,  he  generally  drives  out  with  the  Queen,  and  some  of  the  younger 
branches  of  the  royal  family,  after  the  ceremonial  of  the  day  is  done, 
and  makes  a  tour  of  the  environs,  without  guards,  or  more  formality 
than  a  private  gentleman.  A  great  many  curious  instances  are  told  of  his 
disregarding  the  inconvenient  burthens  of  court  etiquette,  and  following 
his  old  easy  and  natural  habits,  learned  originally  in  a  Sailor's  life. — In 
passing  down  St.  James' s-street,  unattended,  as  is  his  custom,  he  wanted  to 
see  a  newspaper  of  the  evening — the  door  of  a  coffee-house  was  open  before 
him—  he  walked  in,  and  read  his  newspaper  at  his  ease. — His  first  military 
operation  was  the  popular  and  amusing  one  of  ordering  all  the  cavalry 


1830.]  King  William  the  Fourth.  143 

to  be  shaved,  excepting  the  Hussars,  that  piece  of  barbarism  being  part 
of  the  essence  of  those  frippery  corps.  Like  all  men  of  common  sense, 
he  has  looked  on  the  effeminate  and  foolish  changes  of  the  military  dress 
with  ridicule,  and  it  is  reported  that  he  has  ordered  the  whole  army  to 
adopt  the  old  national  colour — red  ;  the  British  service,  at  this  moment, 
being  the  most  pyeballed  on  earth,  and  in  fact,  being  nothing  more  than 
a  copy  of  every  absurdity  in  dress  and  colour  that  could  be  culled  from 
the  whole  of  the  continental  armies.  The  impolicy  of  this  borrowing 
system  was  obvious,  in  the  first  place,  as  a  kind  of  admission  that 
Frenchmen  and  other  foreigners  were  our  masters  in  the  art  of  war. 
An  assumption  which  they  are  always  ready  enough  to  make,  and  which 
only  increases  their  insolence.  In  the  next,  the  more  foreign,  and  less 
like  Englishmen  the  army  looked,  the  more  it  was  disliked  by  the 
people,  and  the  more  it  was  inclined  to  be  the  tool  of  any  individual,  if 
such  should  start  up,  who  meditated  designs  against  the  liberties  of 
England.  It  had  a  further  effect,  in  the  actual  increase  of  confusion  and 
hazard  in  the  field,  when  no  man  could  know  an  English  regiment  from 
an  enemy's  one,  a  dozen  yards  off,  and  when,  as  has  happened  more 
than  once,  the  English  infantry  has  been  charged  by  foreign  cavalry, 
whom  they  naturally  mistook  for  some  of  their  own  whiskered  and  blue- 
coated  lancers  and  hussars.  Lastly,  and  by  no  means  the  least  im- 
portant— by  the  imitation  of  the  foreign  costume,  bedizened  and 
embroidered  as  it  was,  many  meritorious  officers  were  driven  out  of  the 
cavalry,  through  the  enormous  expense  of  the  uniform ;  while  the 
younger  and  richer  coxcombs,  who  would  at  all  times  make  better 
mountebanks  and  mummers  than  soldiers,  were  urged  to  a  career  of 
waste,  folly,  and  effeminacy,  that  absurd  and  contemptible  as  it  was, 
absolutely  began  to  infect  the  habits  of  the  higher  ranks  of  society. 

We  hope  the  reign  of  the  moustaches  is  over.  The  English  soldier  may 
be  content  to  pass  in  society  without  looking  like  a  Russian  bear,  or  a 
French  dancing-master.  He  could  fight  a  dozen  years  ago  better  than 
any  foreigner,  notwithstanding  the  disqualification  of  having  his  visage 
visible ;  and  we  hope  the  abominable  dandyism  of  late  years  will  insult 
our  national  good  sense  no  more. 

.  But  a  still  more  valuable  change  may  be  at  hand.  The  late  King,  of 
whom  we  would  still  speak  with  all  respect,  was  unfortunately  a  Hussar, 
and  his  propensities  were  all  for  the  army.  The  Navy  declined  misera- 
bly, and  this  noble  object  of  national  honour  and  public  saftey,  was  left 
to  sink  into  total  disfavour.  But  a  Sailor  is  now  on  the  Throne,  and  we 
must  hope  that  he  has  the  true  feelings  of  an  Englishman  about  him. 
Let  him  then  lose  no  time  in  raising  the  British  Navy  from  its  impolitic, 
ungracious,  and  hazardous  depression.  It  is  of  all  descriptions  of  force, 
the  fittest  for  England ;  its  name  is  most  connected  with  English  glory  ; 
it  is  the  arm  which  is  most  exclusively  English,  and  which  no  foreigner 
has  ever  been  able  to  rival.  It  is  the  arm  too  which  is  the  most  suitable 
to  a  people  jealous  of  their  liberties,  and  knowing  that  a  military  force 
is  always  hazardous  to  those  liberties,  and  that  if  the  Constitution  of 
England  should  be  destined  to  fall,  it  will  be  by  an  army  in  the  hands 
of  some  favourite  general.  Knowing  all  this,  we  say,  Long  live  the 
Navy  of  England ! — Long  live  the  Liberties  of  the  People ! — and  Long 
live  the  Sailor- King  ! 


[     144    ]  [Auo. 

STATE    OF    IRELAND. 

WHAT  has  emancipation  done  for  Ireland  ?  is  a  question  which  may 
be  put  to  those  who  were  so  prodigal  of  their  golden  promises,  when 
the  removal  of  the  main  pillars  of  the  constitution  of  1688  was  accom- 
plished by  every  method  which  intimidation  could  devise.  It  is  a 
question  we  constantly  hear  urged,  by  both  Protestants  and  Roman 
Catholics ;  but,  though  more  than  fifteen  months  have  elapsed  since 
the  "  healing  measure"  came  into  operation,  we  have  not  as  yet  been 
able  to  obtain  a  satisfactory  solution  of  the  query.  The  thorough- 
going, the  treasury  hacks,  the  apostate  Dawsons,  and  the  other  hirelings 
of  the  Administration,  have,  indeed,  had  the  effrontery  to  assure  us,  that 
immense  benefits  have  been  derived  from  their  panacea.  They  tell  us, 
that  peace  and  good  will  are  advancing,  with  rapid  strides,  among  all 
classes  of  his  Majesty's  subjects  in  the  sister  island ;  and  that,  so  obvious 
is  the  increase  of  prosperity  therefrom,  it  becomes  necessary  to  prevent, 
by  the  imposition  of  fresh  taxes,  the  Quixotic  Patlanders  from  being 
afflicted  with  an  inconvenient  plethora  of  riches,  lest  they  should  again 
wax  wanton  and  wicked  !  Others,  however,  who  are  content  to  look 
on  as  common-place  spectators,  freely  confess  that  they  cannot  discern 
any  material  alteration  in  the  state  of  Ireland.  They  perceive  the  same 
elements  of  discord  still  in  existence — the  same  distrust  and  rancour 
between  the  two  conflicting  parties  are  evinced,  whenever  suitable  oppor- 
tunity offers  for  their  developement. 

The  discriminating  mind,  which  ventures  to  look  beyond  the  mere 
surface,  sees  that  a  momentous  change  has  taken  place  in  Ireland,  since 
the  safeguards  of  the  constitution  were  broken  down— a  change,  the 
probable  consequences  of  which  it  is  fearful  to  contemplate.  While 
Popery  has  retained  all  its  native  inveterate  hatred  to  Protestantism  and 
England,  the  affections  of  the  Irish  Protestant  have  been  so  completely 
alienated  from  those  who  at  present  hold  the  helm  of  the  state,  that  no 
embarrassment  into  which  the  Administration  could  be  plunged,  would 
be  likely  to  elicit  from  him  either  sympathy  or  support.  A  stem 
neutrality  is  now  the  utmost  that  ministers  could  hope  for  from  the 
very  men  who,  not  eighteen  months  ago,  were  ready  to  shed  their 
heart's  blood  in  defence  of  the  honour  and  integrity  of  the  empire. 
Public  men  have  forfeited  the  confidence  of  the  Irish  Protestants  to 
such  an  extent,  that  the  latter  know  not  whom  to  trust,  and  almost 
deem  themselves,  what  their  Roman  Catholic  fellow-countrymen  have 
*"  so  often  designated  them,  mere  "  strangers  and  sojourners  in  the  land/' 
unattached  to  it  or  its  governors  by  any  permanent  interest  or  security. 

In  brief,  this  much  has  "  emancipation"  done  for  Ireland — it  has 
dissolved  the  best  tie  of  its  connexion  with  Great  Britain,  the  cordial 
devotion  of  the  Irish  Protestants ;  and  it  has  raised  the  hopes,  and 
stimulated  the  exertions  of  the  Roman  Catholics  to  accomplish  that 
without  which  they  never  will  rest  content — the  ascendency  of  the 
papal  church;  the  realization  of  which  project  they  regard  as  utterly 
impossible  without  a  separation  from  Protestant  England. 

The  repeal  of  the  legislative  union,  and  the  prostration  of  the  established 
church,  are  consequently  themes  on  which  the  Roman  Catholics  of 
Ireland  now  dwell  with  delight.  These  themes  agitation  has  seized 
upon,  and  will,  ere  long,  wield  with  incalculable  effect.  In  vain  will 
the  minister  endeavour,  by  temporizing,  by  intimidation,  or  by  any 


1 830.  ]  .  State  of  'Ireland.  145 

other  paltry  expedient,  to  crush  these  exceedingly  popular  topics 
among  the  Irish  Roman  Catholics ;  all  his  efforts  will  only  make  them 
clasp  these  idols  more  closely.  In  vain  will  he  strive  to  win  over  the 
papal  clergy,  or  even  the  See  of  Rome  itself,  in  order  to  avert  the 
tornado  which  threatens  him ;  every  such  proceeding  on  his  part  will 
be  justly  construed  into  a  proof  of  his  weakness,  and  every  concession, 
every  fresh  measure  of  "  conciliation,"  besides  calling  forth  the  appre- 
hensions of  Protestants,  will  be  haughtily  used  as  a  stepping-stone,  by 
means  of  which  the  Jesuitical  party  may  arrive  at  the  cherished  objects 
of  its  ambition.  The  Roman  Catholics  will  continue,  after  every  addi- 
tional acquisition,  to  repeat  to  the  expediency  cabinet,  the  cutting  retort 
which  Mr.  O'Connel,  and  his  brethren  of  the  agitating  school,  flung  at 
those  treasury  sycophants,  who  reminded  them  of  the  gratitude  they 
owed  the  Duke  of  Wellington — ."  has  he  not  himself  acknowledged," 
replied  the  agitators,  "  that — 

"  His  Poverty  but  not  his  Will  consented  ?" 

Thus  will  the  very  path  which  the  apostates  have  marked  out  for 
themselves,  lead  them  into  still  greater  difficulties.  The  demands  of 
popery  will  be  incessant ;  and  each  bonus  conferred  on  the  sworn 
enemy  of  the  reformed  faith,  will  effect  (if  possible)  still  greater  aliena- 
tion of  the  Protestants — or,  to  employ  more  correct  phraseology,  an 
increased  anxiety  for  the  removal  of  men,  whose  continuance  in  power, 
is  regarded  with  no  ordinary  disgust  and  alarm. 

In  the  interim,  an  object  of  increased  curiosity,  if  not  of  commi- 
seration, is  the  probable  fate  of  the  established  church  of  Ireland. 
However  premature  the  honest  declarations  of  Dr.  Drumgoole  might 
have  been  deemed  in  December  1813,  we  fear  that  some  of  them,  at 
least,  cannot  be  treated  as  ludicrous  in  July  1830: — 

"  That  she"  (the  Established  Church),  said  the  enthusiastic  doctor, 
tf  stands  in  great  need  of  securities,  who  can  doubt  ?  when  she  sees 
division  in  the  camp,  and  observes  the  determined  war  that  is  carried 
on  against  her,  muros  pugnatur  intra  et  extra — that  her  articles  of  asso- 
ciation are  despised  by  those  who  pretend  to  be  governed  by  them  ; 
that  Socinians,  and  men  of  strange  faith,  are  amongst  those  in  command; 
*  *  *  and  the  columns  of  catholicity  are  collecting,  who  challenge  the 
possession  of  the  ark,  and,  unfurling  the  oriflamme,  display  its  glorious 
motto — Evryrw  vixa?" 

Those  politicians  who  are  still  disposed  to  regard  as  apocryphal  the 
words  we  have  quoted  from  Dr.  Drumgoole's  speech,  more  especially 
the  concluding  portion  of  the  extract,  let  them  merely  reflect  upon  the 
proceedings  which  took  place  throughout  Ireland,  at  the  vestries  held 
this  year  for  providing  for  parochial  affairs  intimately  connected  with 
the  service  and  discipline  of  the  established  church.  They  will  find, 
that  not  only  have  parishes  been  illegally  taxed,  in  several  places,  for 
the  direct  support  of  popery,  but  that  the  Roman  Catholics,  where  they 
could  insure  a  majority  of  votes  in  their  favour,  have  actually  thrown 
the  entire  of  the  church  rates  upon  the  episcopalian  Protestants  of  the 
parish.  We  also  beg  to  refer  all  state  sceptics  with  regard  to  the 
danger  which  awaits  the  Irish  branch  of  the  established  church,  to  the 
numerous  petitions  from  Ireland  presented  against  the  vestry  laws, 
against  tithes  and  church  property — in  a  word,  against  every  part  of 
the  system  which  the  constitution  Vainly  attempted  to  render  perma- 
nent for  the  support  of  that  church,  the  "  rights  and  privileges"  of 

M.M.  New  Series.— Vol.  X.  No.  56.  T 


146  State  of  Ireland.  [Aua. 

which  our  late  sovereign  had  solemnly  sworn  to  preserve  inviolate.  In 
several  of  those  petitions — the  first  fruits  of  the  "  Emancipation"  Bill — 
the  Roman  Catholics  pray  for  the  total  abolition  of  the  property  of  the 
established  church,  and  that  its  clergy  should  be  entirely  thrown  upon 
the  voluntary  contributions  of  their  own  congregations. 

The  Roman  Catholics  of  Ireland  are  now  praying  for  the  abolition 
of  tithes.  To  this  species  of  warfare  their  own  clergy  urged  them, 
when  they  saw  no  other  method  of  annoying  their  antagonists,  or  of 
deterring  the  Protestant  clergy  from  exposing  the  rottenness  of  popery. 
Their  reverences  cannot  now  conveniently  eat  their  words,  as  they 
would  thereby  considerably  endanger  their  influence,  being  fully  com- 
mitted on  this  popular  question.  When  they  declared  themselves 
unwilling  to  receive  any  other  emolument  than  that  which  they  obtained 
from  tlieir  flocks,  and  decried  tithes  as  an  oppressive  tax  upon  the 
industry  of  the  peasant,  it  is  very  true  that  they  did  so  in  a  paroxysm  of 
fury  and  despair,  and  merely  exemplified  the  fable  of  the  fox  and  the 
grapes.  But  the  deed  cannot  now  be  recalled.  Thus,  pressed  forward 
by  the  Roman  Catholic  demagogues,  secretly  favoured  by  the  neces- 
sities or  avarice  of  the  landed  interests,  as  well  as  by  the  pressing  exigen- 
cies of  the  state,  and  not  opposed  with  any  vigour  by  the  conscientious 
Protestant,  who  often  is  more  than  half-disposed  to  regard  it  in  the 
light  of  an  efficient  bribe  in  the  hands  of  profligate  ministers,  rather 
than  as  a  sacred  fund  for  the  support  of  men  sincerely  devoted  to  the 
propagation  of  true  religion,  the  demolition  of  church  property  in 
Ireland  may  not  be  altogether  so  improbable  as  many  persons  suppose. 

We  have  hitherto  dwelt  chiefly  on  the  effects  of  "  emancipation"  with 
reference  to  the  established  church  of  Ireland.  In  a  sense  more 
rigidly  political,  the  consequences  of  the  "  healing  measure"  are  vastly 
more  alarming  to  those  persons  who  feel  deeply  interested  in  preserving 
the  present  ownership  of  landed  property,  and  the  present  arrangement 
of  parliamentary  patronage,  in  that  country.  The  attention  of  Roman 
Catholics  is  now  turned,  in  a  very  remarkable  degree,  to  the  confiscated 
estates,  the  merits  of  the  laws  of  settlement,  and  their  general  influence 
on  the  prosperity  of  Ireland.  They  freely  declare  it  as  their  opinion, 
that  the  transfer  of  such  enormous  tracts  of  territory  to  the  ancestors 
of  permanent  absentees,  such  as  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  Earl  Fitzwilliam, 
the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne,  and  a  number  of  others  similarly  circum- 
stanced, whom  not  even  a  repeal  of  the  Union  could  bring  to  reside  on 
their  Irish  estates,  is  a  crying  evil.  They  quote  the  argument  of  the 
liberal  noblemen  themselves,  and  those  of  their  retainers  in  the  lower 
house  of  parliament,  so  frequently  reiterated  during  the  multiplied 
debates  on  the  popery  question.  These  arguments  they  triumphantly 
adduce  as  evidence,  that  the  Irish  confiscations  were  t(  unjust  in  prin- 
ciple," and  consequently  ought  to  be  reversed.  "  Is  it  not  admitted, ' 
say  the  Roman  Catholics,  "  that  many  of  our  patriotic  ancestors  were 
driven  into  rebellion  by  a  diabolical  and  long-continued  system  of 
misrule  ?  and  that  others  of  them  were  subjected  to  forfeiture  solely  on 
account  of  their  loyalty  to  their  king,  and  their  affectionate  attachment 
to  the  religion  of  their  forefathers  ?  Do  not  the  Whigs  uniformly  admit 
this?  And  is  it  not  notorious  that  those  unjust  confiscations  are  an 
insurmountable  obstacle  to  the  improvement  of  Ireland,  by  insuring 
absenteeism,  preventing  the  accumulation  of  Irish  capital,  the  encourage- 
ment of  manufactures,  or  the  patronage  of  the  arts  and  sciences? 


1830.]  Slate  of  Ireland.  147 

Such  an  arrangement  cannot,  therefore,  be  any  longer  defended,  either 
on  the  ground  of  principle,  or  on  that  of  expediency ;  especially  now 
that  the  stigma  has  been  taken  off  our  religion,  and  it  has  been  pronounced 
as  SAFE  a  political  creed  as  any  other  !  It  follows  that  we  assuredly  have 
a  right  to  demand  that  of  which  our  worthy  ancestors  have  been  robbed, 
and -the  restoration  of  which  the  welfare  of  society  requires.  How  can 
Protestants,  with  any  sort  of  consistency,  refuse  us  the  benefit  of  their 
own  express  admissions  ?'* 

What  is  to  prevent  this  feeling  from  daily  growing  in  intensity  ?  And 
how  are  its  probable  consequences  to  be  obviated  ?  Pastorini  directly  en- 
courages it.  In  the  last  edition  of  his  "  History  of  the  Christian  Churchy" 
page  21 1,  he  says,  "  Who  is  ignorant  of  the  cruel,  persecuting  laws, 
that  were  in  those  times  enacted  in  most  of  the  protestant  states  against 
the  Catholic  religion  ?  Among  the  rest,  who  is  not  acquainted  with  the 
severe  laws  of  England  and  Ireland  ?  They  are  such,  as  to  be  owned  by 
such  of  their  own  people  who  have  a  sense  of  humanity,  to  be  barba- 
rous, to  be  a  scandal  to  the  Christian  religion,  and  a  disgrace  to  civilized 
nations.  In  consequence  of  these  statutes,  how  many  persons  have  been 
stript  of  their  estates?  How  many  individuals  have  been  imprisoned, 
banished,  even  put  to  death  ?  How  many  families  have  been  reduced  to 
beggary  and  ruin  ?" 

Again :  page  223 — "  When  people  are  driven  to  despair  by  excessive 
hardship  and  oppression,  and  even  threatened  with  utter  extirpation, 
what  wonder  if  an  insurrection  follows  ?  Such  was  the  case  with  the 
Irish  Catholics." 

Now  the  Roman  Catholics  of  Ireland,  whose  "  favourite  prophet"  their 
renowned  Bishop  Doyle,  assures  us  Pastorini  is,  almost  to  a  man  coincide 
with  the  foregoing  description  of  the  merits  of  the  Irish  confiscations. 
With  very  few  exceptions,  they  also  place  the  most  implicit  confidence 
in  Pastorini's  predictions  of  the  perfect  overthrow  of  those  whom  their 
"  favourite  prophet"  depicts  as  their  oppressors.  The  Whigs  manifestly 
acquiesce  in  Pastorini's  assertions  with  regard  to  the  causes  of  the  con- 
fiscations. It  remains  to  be  proved  whether  (t  the  march  of  events"  will 
not  teach  them  the  logical  deductions  from  such  admissions  ! 

As  to  the  Protestants  of  Ireland,  they,  indeed,  were  once  a  very  formi- 
dable obstacle  in  the  way  of  such  revolutionary  projects.  They  were  a 
powerful  guarantee  to  the  existing  order  of  property.  But  the  men 
whose  valour  and  loyalty  were  the  sword  and  buckler  of  British  con- 
nexion, are  now  emigrating  by  thousands,  and  taking  with  them  no 
inconsiderable  portion  of  the  small  capital  which  the  provincial  parts  of 
Ireland  possessed.  They  are  disposing  of  their  interests  in  the  farms 
which  they  had  rendered  productive  by  their  superior  skill  and  industry, 
turning  into  hard  cash  whatever  property  they  can  still  call  their  own, 
and  "  winging  their  way"  across  the  Atlantic.  They  do  not  admire  the 
present  aspect  of  affairs.  They  are  disgusted  at  what  has  occurred,  and 
alarmed  at  what  they  see  in  progress.  They  have  abandoned  all  confi- 
dence in  those  men  who  steered  the  labouring  vessel  of  the  state  into  a 
sea  of  troubles.  They  think  that  their  inflexible  loyalty  has  been  ill- 
requited  ;  and  that  a  premium  has  been  held  out  to  turbulence  and  dis- 
affection. They  have  taken  firm  hold  of  the  opinion,  that  "  even-handed 
justice"  has  not  been  impartially  administered  to  them — that  their  lives 
and  properties  have  been  rendered  insecure  by  the  leniency  which  has 
frequently  been  shewn  to  the  most  sanguinary  of  the  Roman  Catholic 

T  2 


148  State  of  Ireland:  [Auo. 

delinquents ;  \vhile  Constitutionalists  are  almost  hunted  out  of  society, 
and  declared  unworthy  of  protection,  if  they  dare  to  cast  a  retrospective 
glance  towards  the  scenes  which  history  records  for  their  instruction. 
They  cannot  forget  the  manner  in  which  they  have  been  despised,  con- 
spired against,  scoffed  at,  and  calumniated.  They  cannot  avoid  contrast- 
ing the  treatment  which  they  have  for  some  years  past  received,  with 
the  manner  in  wrhich  the  Ro*man  Catholic  insurgent  has  often  been  patro- 
nised, his  misdeeds  screened  from  inquiry,  or  else  very  mildly  dealt  with, 
and  frequently  attempted  to  be  explained  away,  if  not  justified,  at  the 
expense  of  every  principle  of  morality  and  civilization.  They  point  to 
the  "  Black  Bridge  of  Chlonoe,"  and  to  the  hill  of  Macken,  and 
inquire  "  Have  the  characters  of  even-handed  justice  been  written  here  ? 
Have  our  murdered  brethren  been  avenged  as  the  law  demanded  ?  Is 
the  example  that  has  been  made  of  their  unprovoked  assassins  such  as 
society  had  a  right  to  expect,  or  such  as  will  deter  similar  aggressions  in 
future  ?"  They  point  to  their  Protestant  brethren  in  different  parts  of  the 
country  of  Cavan,  who,  it  is  alleged,  are  compelled  to  go  armed  to  their 
agricultural  labours,  and  whose  lives  have  been  placed  in  the  utmost 
peril,  nay,  sometimes  sacrificed,  on  their  attending  fairs  or  markets. 

With  such  feelings  in  their  bosoms,  multitudes  of  the  most  peaceable, 
best  conducted,  and  most  industrious  of  Ireland's  inhabitants  are  bid- 
ding adieu  to  the  land  of  their  nativity.  The  emigrants  to  America  this 
year  from  Ireland,  it  is  thought,  will  exceed  FORTY  THOUSAND  ;  and 
every  subsequent  year  it  may  be  expected  to  increase,  unless  some  mar- 
vellous alteration  take  place  in  the  prospects  and  sentiments  of  the 
Protestants  of  that  unfortunate  country.  Those  of  their  brethren  who 
for  the  present  remain  behind,  partly  from  a  difficulty  in  arranging  their 
affairs,  or  from  having  too  great  a  stake  in  the  country  as  yet  to  be  wil- 
ling to  abandon  it,  will  neither  fight  for  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's  tithes, 
nor  for  Lord  Lansdowne's  estates.  They  will  merely  endeavour  to 
take  care  of  themselves,  and  to  keep  aloof,  as  much  as  possible,  from  the 
strong  holds  of  Popery. 

As  a  specimen  of  the  political  temper  of  the  times,  at  a  respectable 
parochial  meeting  in  the  city  of  Dublin,  held  on  the  28th  of  May  last, 
with  the  Protestant  churchwardens  presiding,  for  the  purpose  of  peti- 
tioning against  the  new  system  of  taxation,  we  extract  the  following 
resolutions,  which  were  unanimously  adopted  : — "  Resolved — That  in 
these  monstrous  and  incompatible  assimilations  we  are  made  to  taste 
the  bitter  fruits  of  the  union,  exhibiting  our  country  bewailing  the  disas- 
trous connexion,  and  struggling  with  the  odious  embrace  that  would  con- 
sign her  to  hopeless  prostration  under  the  weight  of  new  and  intolerable 
taxes.  That  the  vagrancy  of  the  absentee  nobility  and  gentry,  and  the 
substitution  of  their  agents  in  this  country,  have  generated  an  assimi- 
lation of  distress  and  poverty  in  this  city,  which  we  respectfully  render 
to  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  for  assimilation  with  the  opulence, 
splendour,  and  commercial  magnificence  of  London.  That  a  statesman, 
who  takes  no  lesson  from  past  events,  and  is  not  instructed  by  the  obsti- 
nate follies  of  his  predecessors,  is  a  blind  guide,  and  unsafe  to  follow. 
That  the  fatal  results  of  the  Stamp  Act  in  America,  by  which  that  country 
was  lost,  should  inform  our  rulers  that  it  is  not  always  safe  to  calculate 
too  confidently  on  the  patient  endurance  of  a  people,"  &c.  &c. 

To  find  a  series  of  such  resolutions  adopted,  without  a  dissentient  voice, 
by  a  respectable  and  numerous  meeting,  composed  of  various  creeds  and 


1830.]  Stale  of  Ireland.  149 

sects,  is  a  lesson  that  should  not  be  despised !  Prior  to  the  Duke  of 
Wellington's  "  Protestant- Security  Bill,"  such  unanimity  against  any 
ministerial  measure  whatever  could  not  have  been  effected.  The  asperity 
of  language  with  which  the  "  disastrous  connexion"  is  attacked,  and 
absenteeism  held  up  to  public  execration,  should  be  taken  to  heart  by 
those  aristocrats  most  immediately  interested  in  the  political  condition 
of  Ireland,  who,  if  they  be  not  altogether  blind,  cannot  fail  to  discover 
therein  the  elements  of  general  dissatisfaction,  if  not  disaffection,  and 
ominous  indication  of  future  convulsion. 

Certain  resolutions  passed  at  a  vestry,  held  at  Patrick's  church,  in 
the  city  of  Waterford,  on  the  25th  of  May  last,  "  For  the  purpose  of 
examining  and  confirming  the  applotment  book  for  the  assessments 
made  on  Easter  Monday  and  Tuesday,"  (the  Protestant  Rector  of  the 
parish  in  the  chair)  are  so  confirmatory  of  what  we  have  advanced 
respecting  the  disposition  of  the  Irish  Roman  Catholics,  and  such 
conclusive  evidence  of  the  insanity  of  permitting  persons  with  such 
feelings  to  legislate  in  any  way  for  the  established  church,  that  we 
cannot  refrain  from  quoting  them;  premising,  that  they  are  by  no 
means  a  solitary  instance,  and  that  it  is  fully  understood  to  be  in- 
tended by  the  Roman  Catholics  throughout  Ireland,  to  follow  the 
precedent,  next  year,  in  all  cases  where  they  muster  in  sufficient 
numbers,  or  create  sufficient  intimidation,  to  obtain  a  majority  of  votes  : 
— "  Resolved — That  the  items  for  providing  coffins,  and  for  the  support 
of  foundlings  and  deserted  children,  be  separated  from  the  general 
assessments  of  last  Easter.  That  the  other  items  named  in  the  fore- 
going resolution  be  applotted  generally  on  all  the  parishioners,  accord- 
ing to  valuation.  That  all  other  items  of  the  several  assessments  be 
applotted  upon  the  Church  of  England  Protestants,  and  that  the  applot- 
ment of  the  Roman  Catholics  and  Protestant  Dissenters  be  reduced  to 
one  farthing  on  each  individual  for  the  same." 

A  local  journalist  offers  the  following  remarks  on  this  affectionate  pro- 
ceeding towards  the  "  Law  Church"  as  the  Roman  Catholics  contemp- 
tuously style  the  Church  of  England  : — "  Much  merriment  existed,  and 
many  jokes  passed,  at  the  idea  of  the  Protestants  not  only  having  to 
pay  their  share  of  the  foundling  tax  and  coffin  money,  which  last  is 
almost  exclusively  given  to  Roman  Catholic  paupers ;  but  also  that  the 
vestry  were  enabled  to  tax  the  Protestants  at  the  rate  of  seven-pence  per 
pound  on  the  value  of  houses  and  lands,  whilst  the  Roman  Catholics  had 
to  pay  but  three  halfpence.  Others  rejoiced  that  it  would  induce  one-half 
of  the  Protestants  to  deny  their  religion,  whilst  those  who  would  not  abjure 
should  bear  all  the  burden.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  some  do  not  conceal 
their  intentions  of  entirely  doing  away  with  the  Church  Establishment  of 
Ireland;  and  that,  in  consequence  of  their  (the  Protestants)  small  num- 
bers, they  will  in  a  short  time  be  scarcely  recognised  even  as  a  sect." 

The  paper  which  offers  this  comment  on  the  conciliatory  deeds  and 
"  merriment"  of  the  Waterford  Roman  Catholics  was  established,  and 
still  continues,  under  the  patronage  of  the  Beresford  family,  and  advo- 
cated the  policy  of  the  "  healing  measure,"  in  conformity  with  the  wishes 
of  its  patrons.  It  is  therefore  good  evidence  in  such  a  case,  which  can 
hardly  be  admitted  to  reflect  much  lustre  on  the  wisdom  or  protes- 
tantism of  the  Wellingtonian  converts. 

Behold  the  benefits  which  "  emancipation"  has  conferred  upon  Ireland ! 
We  request  the  whigs,  in  whose  ranks  the  most  inveterate  absentees  are 


150  Slate  of  Ireland.  [Auo. 

to  be  found,  and  the  ministers  likewise,  to  ruminate  upon  these  results 
of  their  mis-called  liberality.  If  both  the  church  and  state  be  in  a  most 
tottering  condition  in  Ireland — if,  as  the  Protestant  journals  assert,  and 
the  Roman  Catholic  organs  confirm,  there  be  at  present  scarcely  a  frag- 
ment of  "  a  government  party"  in  that  distracted  land — if  the  influence 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  priests  among  the  military  be  so  great  as  to  render 
it  problematical  which  side  many  of  our  soldiery  would  take  in  the  event  of 
popular  contention — it  is  high  time  for  our  legislators  to  review  that 
system  of  policy  which  has  brought  us  to  such  a  crisis.  There 
is  no  time  to  be  lost ;  the  Protestants  are  rapidly  withdrawing  from  the 
scene,  despairing  of  either  encouragement  or  protection.  Faithful  to 
their  engagements,  they  will  not  indeed  promise  as  high  rents  for  tene- 
ments as  the  Rockite  Roman  Catholics  unhesitatingly  offer,  but  without 
the  slightest  intention  of  performing  their  contract.  Protestants  have 
not  a  Captain  Rock  to  protect  their  cattle  or  produce  from  seizure,  or 
their  farms  from  process  of  ejectment :  they,  besides,  are  often  exposed 
to  the  effects  of  a  combination  against  them,  which  often  compels  them 
to  dispose  of  their  stock  at  a  lower  price  than  Roman  Catholics  obtain 
—the  butchers  and  victuallers  in  Ireland  being  chiefly  Papists,  and 
giving  a  decided  preference  to  those  farmers  who  are  of  their  own  per- 
suasion. This,  we  have  the  best  authority  for  stating,  is  a  positive 
fact. 


THE    SPIRITS    OF    THE    WINDS. 
A    VISION. 

HARK  !  to  the  Thunder-Peal !  The  air 
Is  flaming  with  the  Lightning's  Glare  ! 
Down  bursts  the  gale — the  surges  sweep, 
Like  gathering  hosts,  against  the  steep, 
Sh jeting  with  clouds  of  snowy  spray, 
Its  granite  forehead,  old  and  grey. 
With  sudden  shriek  and  cowering  wing, 
To  the  wild  cliff  the  sea-birds  spring ; 
Careering  o'er  the  darkened  heaven, 
The  clouds  in  warring  heaps  are  driven ; 
And  crested  high  with  tawny  foam, 
Rushes  the  mighty  billow  home. 

These  arc  for  earthly  gaze  ;  but  who 
Might  pierce  yon  Lightning-blaze  of  blue ; 
Might  mount  yon  cloudy  throne  of  fear, 
To  see  the  tempest-rulers  there  ? 

The  Thunder  rolls  !     Through  deepening  gloom 
Are  seen  a  crown,  a  fiery  plume  ! 
What  visions  on  the  whirlwind  ride  ! 
Sons  of  the  Morn  !  four  shapes  of  pride  ! 
Four  shapes  of  beauty  ! — yet  the  gale 
Has  blanched  their  glorious  beauty  pale  ; 
Like  cloud-wreaths  tost  along  the  air, 
Floats  wild  their  hyacinthine  hair  ; 
And  faintly,  through  the  vapours  dim, 
Shine  starry  brow  and  splendid  limb ; 


1830.]  The  Spirit*  of  the  Winds.  151 

Each  bears  from  his  celestial  bower 
A  trumpet-talisman  of  power. 
Wake  but  its  tone — the  lightest  breeze  »^<!tj  ! 
That  ever  curled  the  summer's  seas — 
The  wildest  gale  that  sends  its  roar 
Through  the  far  Indian's  forest  hoar — 
From  mountain-top,  from  violet-dell, 
All  hear  the  summons  of  the  spell. 

They  pause. — Along  the  wave  are  borne 
Four  echos  of  the  golden  horn  ; 
From  the  four  corners  of  the  heaven, 
At  once  four  thunder-bursts  are  given ; 
From  the  four  corners  of  the  deep, 
Towers  the  white  surge  with  wilder  sweep ; 
For  firm  and  strong  the  mandate  binds, 
Sent  by  the  "  Rulers  of  the  Winds." 

Again  the  four  broad  trumps  are  raised  ; 
With  keener  flash  the  lightnings  blazed, 
Then  died  ;  and  yet  the  glance  might  mark 
Ev'n  in  that  flash  a  gallant  bark  ; 
A  nobler  never  stemmed  the  brine 
With  chivalry  from  Palestine. 
Again  a  flash  !  her  gilded  side 
Darts  like  a  falcon  through  the  tide. 
Sweep  on  !  for  many  a  heart  is  there 
That  never  shook  at  mortal  fear. 
Sweep  on  !  for  there,  on  many  a  cheek, 
The  tears,  like  dew  on  roses,  break ; 
And  many  a  loved  and  lovely  eye 
Is  fixed  upon  that  deepening  sky. 
Sweep  on,  fair  bark ! — Oh,  Heaven  !  that  peal 
Had  shook  her  strength,  though  ribbed  with  steel. 
What  was  it  on  the  sight  that  came  ? 
A  flash — a  smoke — a  burst  of  flame  ! 
She  burns  !  up  sail  and  shroud  the  blaze 
In  folds,  like  fiery  serpents,  plays. 
What  sound  is  heard?— one  dying  scream, 
Borne,  like  the  murmurs  of  a  dream. 
Alike  the  lovely  and  the  brave 
See  round  them  but  a  mighty  grave ; 
The  minstrel  and  the  harp  are  there, 
The  spear,  and  wielder  of  the  spear  ; 
The  royal  fair,  the  noble  knight. 
To  whom  her  eye  was  life  an,d  light. 
Wealth,  glory,  grandeur,  love,  and  fame—- 
What are  ye,  in  that  bed  of  flame? 
The  cloud  is  reddened  with  the  stain- 
Reddens,  like  blood,  the  surging  main; 
Till,  mastering  all,  in  flake  and  spire 
Rolls  o'er  the  wreck  the  sheet  of  fire. 

She's  gone  !    No  atom  floating  by 
Tells  of  the  scene  of  agony. 

9  She's  gone  !  and  with  her  gone  the  blast — 

The  cloud,  the  thunder-peal,  are  past ; 
The  forest's  hoary  crown  is  still — 
The  cloud  is  on  the  distant  hill ; 
Bound  by  the  rainbow's  purple  zone, 
The  sinking  daystar's  jewelled  throne. 

But  hark !  what  more  than  mortal  sound 
Breathes  that  still  heaving  main  around  ? 


152  The  Spirits  of  the  Winds.  [Auo. 

Swift,  simple,  sweet!— a  fairy  tone, 

Just  caught,  and  wondered  at,  and  flown  ; 

Then  on  the  soul  returning  high, 

In  the  full  pomp  of  harmony  ! 

They  come  ! — I  see  the  Spirits  sweep, 

Like  evening  glories,  o'er  the  deep — 

But  lovelier  now — upon  the  gale 

The  nectared  lip  no  longer  pale ; 

No  more  the  glance  of  beauty  dim — 

All  changed  !  their  eyes  in  splendour  swim  ; 

Buds  on  their  cheek  the  angel-»rose  ; 

The  star  upon  their  foreheads  glows  ; 

With  arms,  like  floating  snow- wreathes  twined, 

The  dance  of  extacy  they  wind. 

And  now  they  touch  the  Heaven's  blue  verge, 

Now  in  the  wave  their  pinions  merge  ; 

With  melting  voice,  with  lifted  arm, 

Is  wrought  upon  the  wave  the  charm. 

'Tis  done  ! — on  earth  and  air  are  borne 

Four  echos  of  the  golden  horn  ; 

At  once  expanded  all  their  wings, 

Each  on  the  cloud  its  beauty  flings, 

Then  upward  sweep,  till  mortal  gaze 

Turns  feeble  from  the  circling  blaze. 

'Tis  Eve  ! — in  streaks  of  azure  dyed 
Sinks  on  its  bed  the  mighty  tide. 
Above,  on  grove  and  mountain- wall, 
In  softened  pomp  the  lustres  fall ; 
And  the  soft  valley  shadows  weave 
The  whole  wild  witchery  of  eve. 
But  with  its  sounds,  come  mingling  sounds, 
Not  of  that  mountain's  leafy  bounds  ; 
The  joyous  shout,  the  dashing  oar, 
Swift  wheeling  by  that  marble  shore, 
A  gallant  bark,  from  prow  to  poop 
Full  freighted  with  a  noble  troop, 
Is  rushing  in  the  sunset's  glance; 
Flash,  as  it  bounds,  the  helm  and  lance  ; 
The  banners'  thick-embroidered  fold 
Sweeps  o'er  the  surge  a  sheet  of  gold ; 
The  silken  robe,  the  pearly  braid, 
The  feefjle  step  by  lovers  staid  ; 
The  silver  voices  on  the  air, 
Tell  Woman,  lovely  Woman,  there. 

The  flame  had  done  its  deed — the  wave 
Had  quenched  the  ruin  in  the  grave ; 
Ten  thousand  fathoms,  wild  and  dark, 
Had  boomed  above  its  burning  spark  ; 
And  ne'er  to  sun  or  gale  again 
From  mast  or  prow  should  spread  the  vane. 
But  in  the  heart's  despairing  hour, 
Echoed  the  talisman  of  power ; 
And  not  of  all  that  bright  or  brave, 
Stemmed  on  its  deck  the  ocean  wave  ; 
No  gallant  wielder  of  the  sword, 
No  being  by  his  soul  adored, 
Shall  leave  the  mortal  eye  to  weep 
The  fury  of  the  faithless  deep. 
So  firm  the  gentle  mandate  binds, 
Breathed  by  the  Spirits  of  the  Winds ! 


1830.]  [     153    ] 

;,,«„      I«»')V/£  t-jiOt.H\* 

i  f    . 

THE    EVE    OF    SAINT    SIMON,    IN    COLOMBIA. 

THE  town  of  Achaquas,  situate  on  the  banks  of  .the  river  Apure, 
derives  some  importance  from  the  fact,  that  it  has  ever  been  the  habitual 
and  favourite  residence  of  "  El  Gefe  de  los  Llaneros."  Here  the  ferocious 
Paez  has  erected  a  house,  which,  by  the  bare-legged  natives,  may  be 
deemed  a  specimen  of  architectural  magnificence,  as  compared  with  the 
mud-built  hovels  that  compose  the  residue  of  the  town ;  with  the  excep- 
tion, however,  of  the  church  and  "  Caza  del  Cura,"  which  entirely  occupy 
one  side  of  a  large  though  irregular  square.  "  La  Grande  Plaza,"  as  it 
is  called,  was,  during  the  revolutionary  struggle,  the  theatre  of  many 
sanguinary  scenes.  Hither  were  the  prisoners  made  by  Paez  and  his 
followers  led,  and,  under  the  scowling  brow  of  the  chief,  inhumanly  mas- 
sacred; and  though  in  just  retaliation,  perhaps,  of  Spanish  cruelty,  yet 
the  refined  barbarity  with  which  these  reprisals  were  conducted  baffles 
description,  and  would  indeed  .be  deemed  apocryphal  by  all  save  those 
who  had  the  misfortune  to  witness  them.  Here,  too,  would  Paez  occa- 
sionally indulge  his  faithful  adherents  with  the  gratifying  spectacle  of  a 
bull-fight,  and  the  exhibition  of  his  own  wonderful  prowess.  On  these 
occasions  the  chieftain  would  appear  dressed  in  his  native  garb.  The 
large  white  "•  cal^onzillos,"  or  drawers,  loose  at  the  knee,  and  not  ex- 
tending below  it — a  check  shirt,  open  at  the  neck,  and  confined  at  the 
waist  with  a  red  or  blue  scarf,  worn  like  our  military  sashes,  and  which 
supported  the  "  cuchillo,"  or  large  knife,  the  never-failing  appendage  of 
a  "  Llahero" — the  fc  sombrero  de  pallo,"  or  immense-rimmed  straw  hat, 
with  a  white  feather,  the  party  emblem — and  the  massive  silver  spurs, 
attached  to  the  naked  heel  by  thongs  cut  from  a  bullock's  hide — complete 
this  singular  but  picturesque  costume.  *  Thus  accoutred,  and  mounted 
on  one  of  his  best-trained  horses,  would  Paez  seek  an  encounter  with  the 
fiercest  bull  that  could  be  procured,  his  surprising  agility  and  consum- 
mate skill  in  horsemanship  enabling  him  to  avoid  the  incessant  attacks 
of  the  furious  animal,  whom  he  goads  into  unbounded  rage,  by  turns 
pursuing  and  pursued,  till  at  length,  tired  of  the  sport,  he  seizes  the 
beast  by  the  tail,  and,  with  Herculean  strength,  throws  it  upon  its  back  ; 
then  leaping  from  his  saddle  (amid  the  cheering  acclamations  of  the 
spectators),  with  his  fc  cuchillo"  puts  a  speedy  termination  to  its  suffer- 
ings and  life  together.  This  and  cock-fighting,  a  sport  of  which  Paez 
is  an  enthusiastic  admirer  (having  an  immense  number  of  these  birds  in 
constant  training),  are  the  principal  amusements,  and  tend  to  feed  the 
blood-thirsty  propensities  of  this  lawless  militia  during  the  temporary 
suspension  of  their  predatory  warfare.  I  here  apply  the  term  u  militia," 
such  being,  correctly  speaking,  the  collective  appellation,  and  attributes, 
of  those  more  immediately  under  Paez's  command.  A  body  of  three 
hundred  men,  half  of  whom  have  the  rank  of  officers,  and  form  a  sepa- 
rate corps,  bearing  the  denomination  of  uLos  bravos  de  la  guardia 
de  honore,"t  are  in  constant  attendance  on  the  person  of  the  chief;  and  the 

*  On  duty,  or  on  the  march,  a  blanket  of  different  colours  (red  or  blue  being,  however, 
the  most  prevalent),  with  a  hole  cut  in  the  centre  to  admit  the  head,  is  usually  worn,  and 
forms  a  striking  and  not  ungraceful  upper  garment. 

f  u  El  Gefe  de  los  Llaneros,"  Chief  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Plains. — "  Caza  del  cura," 
—Curate's  house.  *«  La  Grande  Plaza," — Great  square.  *'  Cal^onzillos," — Short,  loose 
drawers.  "  Cuchillo," — Large  knife.  "  Llanero,"— Man  of  the  plains.  "  Sombrero  de 
pallo,"— Straw  hat.  "  Los  bravos  de  la  guardia  de  honore," — The  "  bravos"  of  the  guard 
of  honour. 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  5G.  U 


154  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  [AuG. 

gallant  achievements  which  he  has  performed  at  their  head,  as  also  the 
individual  feats  of  intrepidity  displayed  by  this  small  band  (however 
well  they  may  be  attested),  would,  to  the  generality  of  readers,  appear 
incredible.  In  the  event  of  any  sudden  emergency,  an  intended  attack 
upon  the  enemy,  or  the  necessity  of  acting  upon  the  defensive  (by  the 
by,  a  rare  occurrence  with  Paez),  he  could,  at  a  very  short  notice, 
assemble  three  thousand  men,  who  (from  the  facility  which  the  plains 
afford  him  of  procuring  horses)  form  one  of  the  most  formidable  and 
efficient  cavalry  forces  ever  embodied.  Each  man,  whilst  engaged  even 
in  the  culture  of  his  small  plantation  of  Indian  corn  and  sugar-cane, 
keeps  his  docile  charger  ready  for  instant  action  ;  and  those  who  might 
neglect  this  precautionary  measure — so  astonishing  is  the  power  which 
the  Llanero  has  obtained  by  practice  in  the  manege — wpuld,  in  the  short 
space  of  an  hour  or  two,  be  enabled  to  tame  the  unruly  spirit  of  the  wildest 
stallion,  and  render  him  fully  adequate  to  all  the  purposes  of  guerilla 
service.  Paez  himself  has  a  reserve  of  five  hundred  horses,  which  follow 
in  the  rear  of  all  his  expeditions,  as  a  remount  for  himself  and  staff;  and 
so  jealous  is  he  of  his  right  of  exclusive  possession,  that  he  has  been  known 
to  refuse  Bolivar  (the  then  supreme  chief  of  Venezuela)  a  single  horse 
for  his  personal  accommodation  ! 

•  In  addition  to  the  amusements  already  described  as  forming  the  prin- 
cipal recreation  of  the  motley  inhabitants  of  the  town  and  vicinity  of 
Achaquas,  each  leisure  moment  was  devoted  to  gambling;  and  so 
addicted  were  all  classes  to  this  vicious  enjoyment,  that  tables  were  to 
be  seen  by  day  and  night  at  the  corners  of  the  different  streets,  round 
which  stood  mixed  groups  of  officers  and  privates,  and  even  women,  all 
engaged  in  sacrificing  to  the  blind  goddess  amid  the  blasphemous  curses 
of  those  whom  Fortune  betrayed.  Paez  himself,  perambulating  the  town, 
would  frequently  mingle  with  one  or  other  of  these  parties,  and,  by  his 
presence,  sanction  a  vice,  the  demoralizing  effects  of  which  eventually 
produced  the  most  pernicious  consequences,  and  which  proved,  indeed, 
the  primary  cause  of  the  melancholy  catastrophe  which  it  will  shortly  be 
my  painful  task  to  record. 

Ere  I  pursue  the  thread  of  my  narration,  however,  it  may  prove  agree- 
able to  my  reader  to  learn  something  of  the  personal  appearance,  cha- 
racter, and  acquirements,  of  a  chief  whose  present  station,  as  head  of 
the  Venezuelan  confederacy,  and  opposition  to  the  misnamed  "  Wash- 
ington of  Colombia,"  renders  an  object  of  public  interest. 

Jose  Antonio  Paez  is  of  robust  though  diminutive  stature :  his  shoul- 
ders, of  extraordinary  breadth,  support  a  short  neck  of  unusual  thickness 
(not  unlike  that  of  the  enraged  bull  he  delights  in  combating),  and  which 
probably  occasions  those  fits  which  any  strong  excitement  is  sure  to 
produce :  this  neck,  in  its  turn,  sustains  a  head  of  disproportionate  di- 
mensions, in  which  small  dark  eyes  of  uncommon  brilliance  light  up  a 
countenance  where  cunning  seems  the  predominant  expression:  but 
cruelty  lies  concealed  in  his  heart.  Like  the  tiger  crouching  to  spring 
on  its  prey,  Paez  is  to  be  most  dreaded  when  he  evinces  least  anger.  His 
features  afford  no  intimation  to  the  victim  whose  doom  he  meditates ; 
and  many  a  Spanish  prisoner,  lulled  into  fancied  security  by  his  smile, 
has  found  it  but  the  harbinger  to  death.  Brave  even  to  temerity  (if  the 
savage  ferocity  of  a  wild  beast  may  be  termed  courage),  he  dreads  no 
foe,  and  will  rush,  unattended,  into  the  midst  of  thousands,  regardless  of 
danger.  At  the  battle  of  Ortez  he  was  known,  with  his  own  hand,  to 


1830.]  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  155 

have  slain  thirty  of  the  enemy ;  and  his  lance,  the  weapon  with  which 
he  performed  this  feat,  still  wet  with  the  vital  fluid,  was  by  himself, 
after  the  action,  presented  to  the  late  General  English,  He  is,  without 
exception,  the  best  guerilla  chieftain  that  exists.  With  but  little  theo- 
retical knowledge  of  the  art  of  war,  he  has,  from  experience,  become  an 
adept  in  its  practical  duties.  Correct  in  his  judgment,  decisive  in  his 
conduct,  and  rapid  in  his  movements,  success  generally  follows  the  exe* 
cution  of  his  plans.  Were  his  education  commensurate  with  his  natural 
abilities,  he  might  vie  in  talent  with  a  Napoleon,  and  the  southern  he- 
misphere (according  to  the  bias  his  ambition  might  then  take)  yet  have 
to  lament  a  scourge,  or  glory  in  a  benefactor. 

Having  now  endeavoured  to  give  my  reader  some  faint  idea  of  the 
merits  and  demerits  of  the  redoubtable  Paez,  I  will  request  him  to  accom- 
pany me,  in  his  "  mind's  eye,"  to  the  little  town  of  Achaquas,  where  we 
shall  arrive  at  the  period  of  the  truce  agreed  to  by  Bolivar  and  the  Spa- 
nish general  Morillo.  A  six  months'  suspension  of  hostilities  had  been 
just  declared,  and  the  patriot  troops  throughout  Venezuela  had  taken 
possession  of  their  different  cantonments,  where  they  hoped  to  enjoy  a 
short  respite  from  the  toils  and  privations  they  had  so  long  and  so  patiently 
endured.  This  pleasing  anticipation  was  more  particularly  indulged  in 
by  the  garrison  of  Achaquas.  Here  the  remnant  of  the  "  British  legion" 
that  had  arrived  with  General  English  two  years  previous  was  stationed, 
under  the  command  of  Colonel  Blosset,  upon  whom  that  charge  had  de- 
volved at  the  demise  of  the  former.  The  brigade  now  only  consisted  of 
eight  incomplete  companies  of  infantry,  and  one  squadron  of  dismounted 
cavalry — a  melancholy  and  convincing  proof  of  the  insalubrity  of  the  cli- 
mate. These  brave  fellows  had  gallantly  sustained  the  honour  of  the 
national  character  before  Cumana  and  Barcelona,  and,  after  numerous 
fatiguing  marches  and  countermarches,  had  arrived  at  Achaquas  some 
time  prior  to  the  truce,  and  were  then  regarded  as  the  most  effective  and 
best-disciplined  body  at  Paez's  head- quarters.  Strongly  recommended  by 
Bolivar  to  the  special  protection  of  that  general  (and  to  whose  kindness 
their  services  alone  should  have  proved  a  sufficient  claim),  they  relied  on 
the  promises  made  them,  and  hoped  to  become  sharers,  at  least,  in  the 
prosperity  which  now  began  to  dawn  upon  the  republic  as  an  earnest 
of  brighter  prospect.  How  fallacious,  alas,  were  these  expectations  ! 

They  soon  discovered  that  an  undue  preference  was  accorded  by  those 
in  authority  to  the  Creole  troops :  they  beheld  themselves  the  objects  of 
a  narrow-minded  prejudice,  considered  as  intruders  in  the  country  in 
whose  defence  they  had  bled,  hourly  insulted  by  the  inhabitants  and 
rival  soldiery,  and  designated  by  the  epithet  of  slaves  purchased  by  the 
barter  of  hides  and  tallow  !  These  bitter  gibes  and  keen  sarcasms  were 
borne  by  the  men  for  a  long  time  with  stoical  fortitude,  or,  rather,  with 
an  apathy  uncommon  to  Englishmen.  Their  energies  had  been  numbed, 
as  it  were,  by  intense  suffering;  and  it  seemed  as  though  the  chords  of 
their  hearts  had  ceased  to  vibrate  to  the  touch  of  indignity  ! 

The  bow-string,  after  rain,  if  too  forcibly  distended,  will  snap  ;  so  did 
our  countrymen,  by  degrees,  begin  to  feel  the  strain  upon  their  sensibi- 
lities, though  they  writhed  not  till  that  strain  became  tightened  to  agony. 

Bolivar  had  directed  that  half-pay  should  be  issued  monthly  to  the 
*'  British  legion."  This  advantage  was,  however,  only  nominal :  a  base 
metal  coin,  slightly  washed  with  silver  (termed  by  the  inhabitants 
"  chipe  a  chipe")  was  in  consequence  put  in  circulation.  The  tradesmen 

U  2 


156  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  £ Aua. 

refused  to  receive  it  in  exchange  for  the  requisite  articles  of  consumption 
until  Paez  threatened  to  shoot  the  recusant ;  and  even  then  the  enhanced 
price  of  provisions  bore  no  comparison  with  the  fictitious  value  of  this 
spurious  coin,  and  the  English  were  therefore  still  unable  to  obtain  the 
common  necessaries  of  existence. 

Meanwhile,  the  good  money  furnished  from  the  exchequer  for  the 
express  purpose  of  carrying  Bolivar's  order  into  effect  was  by  Paez 
(with  an  occasional  sop  in  the  pan  thrown  to  one  or  two  of  the  superior 
British  officers  to  keep  them  quiet)  distributed  amongst  his  tawny-co- 
loured satellites  ;  nor  was  it  an  unusual  sight  to  behold  the  gambling- 
tables  before  alluded  to  covered  with  doubloons  and  "  pesos  duros"  and 
of  which  our  famished  soldiers  well  knew  they  should  have  been  the  legal 
possessors.  A  pound  of  bad  beef  had,  for  a  considerable  period,  been 
the  only  diurnal  ration  received  by  our  brave  comrades,  and  many  of  the 
officers  were  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  parting  with  their  wearing- 
apparel  ;  the  "  sambo,"  or  mulatto  purchaser,  parading  his  uncomely 
figure,  arrayed  in  all  the  glitter  of  gold  and  silver  embroidery,  and  tri- 
umphing in  the  spoil,  in  the  presence  even  of  its  former  owner.  Splendid 
uniforms  changed  wearers  with  surprising  rapidity ;  and  many  a  youth- 
ful "  petit-maitre"  was  happy  to  shelter  himself  from  the  scorching  rays 
of  a  tropical  sun,  or  the  furious  pelting  of  the  merciless  shower,  beneath 
the  once-despised  but  now  coveted  blanket.  A  considerable  quantity  of 
clothing,  boots,  shoes,  &c.  had  arrived  from  England  and  the  United 
States  for  the  use  of  the  troops.  These  were  surreptitiously  disposed  of 
by  the  "  administrador"*  to  the  merchant-pedlars  who  followed  the  army 
and  preyed  upon  its  vitals,  and  the  produce  of  the  sale  speedily  found  its 
way  to  the  hazard  table;  whilst  the  British  soldier  was  not  only  suffered 
to  wander  about  destitute  and  bare-footed,  but  otherwise  literally  in  a 
state  of  nudity  !  Such,  however,  was  the  excellent  discipline  of  the  corps, 
that  notwithstanding  these  just  motives  of  disaffection  to  a  cause  which 
they  had  been  induced  to  espouse  from  the  most  flattering  anticipations, 
the  men  still  continued  to  perform  their  various  military  avocations,  if 
not  with  cheerful  alacrity,  at  least  with  mechanical  steadiness,  until  a  cir- 
cumstance (which  I  am  about  to  relate)  occurred,  and  roused  their  dor- 
mant feelings  to  an  acute  sense  of  the  degradation  they  had  so  long 
laboured  under. 

General  Paez  requiring  some  alteration  to  be  made  in  part  of  his 
dress,  sent  an  orderly  to  command  the  immediate  attendance  of  one  of 
the  British  regimental  tailors.  The  poor  devil  was  in  the  act  of  masti- 
cating his  hard  beef  when  the  general's  mandate  reached  him ;  and  not 
over  anxious,  possibly,  to  work  without  any  chance  of  remuneration, 
neglected  to  obey  quite  so  promptly  as  Paez  expected.  The  general, 
irritated  by  what  he  qualified  an  act  of  insolent  insubordination,  despatched 
an  aide-de-camp  to  Colonel  Blosset,  directing  him  forthwith  to  compli- 
ment the  refractory  tailor  with  a  hundred  lashes  !  That  officer,  feeling 
the  injustice  of  the  order,  lost  no  time  in  waiting  upon  Paez,  and  respect- 
fully stated,  that  by  the  English  articles  of  war  (under  which  code  the 
"  British  legion"  had  been  embodied,  and  to  which,  by  Bolivar's  sanc- 
tion, they  could  be  alone  amenable)  he  was  prohibited  from  inflicting 
corporal  punishment  except  by  the  sentence  of  a  court-martial ;  but  if 
his  excellency  thought  proper  he  would  immediately  summon  one,  and 

*  "  Administrator/'  commissary. 


1830.]  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  157 

doubted  not,,  according  to  the  evidence  adduced.,  the  court  would  satisfy 
him  by  their  verdict. 

During  this  remonstrance,  not  a  muscle  in  Paez's  face  betrayed  his 
inward  agitation,  not  a  gesture  interrupted  the  colonel's  exordium. 
An  indifferent  spectator  would  have  inferred  from  his  manner  that  he  had 
either  lost  all  recollection  of  the  occurrence,  or  deemed  it  too  trivial  to 
attract  his  further  notice;  a  more  accurate  observer,  however,  would 
have  detected  the  smile  of  ineffable  contempt  struggling  for  passage 
through  his  firmly  closed  lips.  For  some  moments  after  Blosset  had 
ceased  to  speak,  there  was  a  death-like  pause — none  dared  to  break  the 
silence ;  those  who  best  knew  him  almost  dreaded  to  respire.  All  this 
time  Paez  kept  his  eyes  intently  fixed  on  Blosset,  who  (like  the  bird 
charmed  by  the  fascinating  influence  of  the  rattle-snake)  involuntarily 
trembled :  at  length  he  raised  them,  as  if  wholly  unconscious  of  the 
sensation  he  had  caused,  and  turning  to  an  aide-de-camp  who  stood  near, 
desired  him  to  order  the  bugle  to  sound  "Turn  out  the  whole ;"  then  ap- 
proaching Blosset,  with  calm,  unruffled  voice  addressed  him  thus : — "  If, 
Sir,  the  uncompromising  strictness  of  your  military  code  prevents  you 
from  chastising  insolence  in  a  soldier,  by  the  application  of  a  few  lashes, 
unless  sanctioned  by  a  court-martial,  mine  imposes  no  such  delicate  re- 
straints upon  my  will,  and  I  can  shoot  the  insubordinate  object  of  my 
displeasure  without  the  aid  or  authority  of  your  tribunal.  Now  mark 
me,  Colonel.  The  troops  are  assembling.  Return  to  your  brigade,  see  my 
former  orders  carried  into  prompt  execution,  or  in  ten  minutes  the  man 
will  have  ceased  to  exist !"  Blosset  bowed  and  retired.  It  is  almost 
needless  to  say,  that  of  two  evils  the  least  was  chosen — the  unlucky  tailor 
received  his  hundred  lashes.  Paez  on  horseback  remained  on  the  con- 
fines of  the  "  Grande  Plaza"  till  he  saw  his  victim  tied  up  and  receive 
the  first  stripe :  he  then  rode  off,  accompanied  by  a  numerous  staff,  to 
enjoy  a  gallop  and  acquire  an  appetite  on  the  neighbouring  plains ! 

The  effect  which  this  stretch  of  arbitrary  power  had  upon  the  minds 
of  the  men  may  be  readily  surmised:  non-commissioned  officers  and 
privates  felt  equal  indignation ;  murmurs  of  disapprobation  rose  into  ex- 
pressions of  loud  complaint ;  all  were  alike  clamorous  for  passports  to 
quit  the  service ;  and  there  is  little  doubt,  had  an  opportunity  presented 
itself,  the  "  British  legion"  to  a  man  would  have  joined  the  standard  of 
the  enemy. 

For  three  days  following,  the  symptoms  of  discontent  became  so 
generally  apparent,  that  Paez  himself  began  to  calculate  the  result.  Not 
that  he  dreaded  the  irruption  of  the  volcano,  or  could  be  deterred  by  the 
burning  lava  it  might  vomit  forth  from  pursuing  his  course  ;  but  it  did 
not  suit  his  present  policy  to  drive  things  to  extremity;  he  therefore 
adopted  conciliatory  measures,  and  by  an  augmentation  of  rations  (not 
forgetting  an  allowance  of  spirituous  liquor),  with  a  few  necessary  articles 
of  clothing,  he  contrived  to  appease  the  mutinous  spirit  his  harsh  treat- 
ment had  invoked.  But  the  flame  of  discord  was  only  partially  smothered, 
and  needed  but  a  fresh  grievance  to  rake  it  into  a  fiercer  blaze.  The 
men  performed  their  wonted  duties  in  sullen  silence,  and  were  still 
evidently  brooding  over  the  injuries  they  had  sustained. 

In  this  mood  we  will  for  the  present  leave  them,  as  I  am  anxious  to 
introduce  to  my  reader's  notice  a  few  of  the  officers  of  the  "  British 
legion,"  with  whom  it  is  necessary  he  should  have  some  acquaintance,  in 
order  to  enable  him  to  better  understand  the  sequel  of  my  narrative. 


158  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  [Aua. 

Colonel  Blosset  was  a  man  of  gentlemanlike  manners  and  appearance. 
He  had  formerly  held  the  rank  of  captain  and  brevet-major  in  the  28th 
foot,  and  served  with  that  regiment  in  Egypt.  He  was  considered  as 
a  brave  and  clever  officer,  but  he  was  ill  calculated  for  the  post  he  attained 
in  the  republican  service.  Owing,  probably,  to  the  influence  of  climate, 
his  mind  became  enervated,  and  he  evinced  a  most  unpardonable  apathy 
towards  the  interest  and  comforts  of  those  under  his  command.  He  was 
peculiarly  accessible  to  flattery,  and  the  most  fulsome  adulation  could 
neither  offend  or  disgust  him.  This  weakness  was  taken  advantage  of  by 
a  scoundrel,  who,  by  the  meanest  arts,  so  wormed  himself  into  the 
colonel's  confidence,  and  took  such  firm  hold  of  his  affections,  that  he 
became  his  sole  adviser,  and  directed  his  every  action  ! 

The  officers  of  the  legion  beheld  with  astonishment  the  sudden  eleva- 
tion of  a  man  who  but  a  short  time  previous  was  a  sergeant  in  the  corps 
in  which  he  now  bore  the  rank  of  captain,  together  with  the  staff-ap- 
pointment of  brigade-major,  which  his  patron  had  bestowed  upon  him 
with  a  view  of  attaching  him  more  immediately  to  his  person.     Conjec- 
ture was  busy  in  unravelling  the  mystery  of  this  preferment,  but  no  correct 
solution  of  it  appears  to  have  been  obtained.     What  seemed  most  singu- 
lar was,  that  Blosset  should  have  selected  for  his  intimate  companion  an 
illiterate  man  of  low  and  vulgar  habits,  and  whose  only  redeeming  quali- 
ties were  a  bustling  activity  and  tolerably  soldierlike  appearance.     Had 
he  conducted  himself  with  prudence  in  his  new  station,  he  might  have 
secured  the  good-will  of  his  former  superiors ;  but  his  overbearing  arro- 
gance and  insolent  assumption  of  consequence  rendered  him  an  object  of 
contempt  and  detestation  to  every  Englishman  in  the  garrison. 
.    Still,   however,  Brigade-major  Trayner  (so  was  the  colonel's  minion 
named)  set  public  opinion  at  defiance,  and,  heedless  of  the  odium  he  incurred, 
continued  to  assert  the  prerogative  of  his  place,  and  exercise  its  functions 
with  a  severity  that  astonished,  but  could  not  restrain,  the  sarcastic  com- 
ments of  his   quondam  associates,  some  of  whom  had  known  him  in  the 
British  army.     The  trite  proverb  of  "  Set  a  beggar  on  horseback"  was 
fully  verified  in  his  conduct.    Hints  respecting  his  former  character  were 
at  first  cautiously  indulged  in,  and  soon  acquired  a  more  tangible  shape  ; 
till  at  length  he  was  boldly  accused  of  having  (whilst  serving  with  his 
corps  during  the  occupation  of  France  by  the  Allied  Forces)  been  re- 
duced from  the  rank  of  corporal  and  punished  for  theft ! 
•.    As  he  took  no  steps  to  invalidate  a  report  so  stigmatizing  in  its  nature, 
the  officers  of  the  legion  deemed  it  their  duty  to  request  the  commanding 
officer  would  institute  an  inquiry  into  the  truth  of  a  charge  which  was 
calculated  to  reflect  dishonour  upon  the  whole.     Strange  to  say,  the 
colonel  not  only  professed  to  discredit  the  accusation,  but  discountenanced 
all  investigation !     The  officers,  compelled  to  acquiesce  in  this  decision, 
determined  at  least  to  avoid  the  contamination  of  his  society:  save,  there- 
fore, on  points  of  duty,  they  held  no  communication  with  him,  and  he 
was  placed  in  strict  "  Coventry."     This  very  just  manifestation  of  indig- 
nant feeling  stung  Trayner  to  the  soul.    Every  baneful  passion  rankled 
in  his  bosom.    He  swore  to  be  revenged,  and  too  fatally  did  he  keep  his 
oath  ! — but  let  us  not  anticipate  our  tale.     Attached  as  lieutenant  to  the 
light  company  of  the  "  legion"  was  a  young  man  of  most  amiable  man- 
ners, gentlemanlike,  and  unassuming  in  his  deportment.  He  was  respected 
and  idolized  by  his  comrades,  who  took  pleasure  in  predicting  his  ad- 
vancement, which  they  would  have  witnessed  without  one  particle  of 


1830.]  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  159 

jealousy.  The  son  of  a  rich  and  respectable  manufacturer  in  Yorkshire, 
young  Risdale,  with  all  the  ardent  feelings  of  youthful  ambition,  and  his 
heart  glowing  with  enthusiasm  to  become  a  participator  in  the  glorious 
struggle  of  South  American  independence,  left  his  father's  house;  ex- 
changing the  advantages  of  affluence  for  a  precarious  existence,  the  delights 
of  a  peaceful  home  (endeared  to  him  by  a  thousand  infantile  recollections) 
•for  a  country  convulsed  by  civil  war,  the  salubrity  of  his  native  air 
for  the  pestiferous  .vapours  of  a  foreign  clime;  sacrificing,  in  short,  every 
earthly  blessing  to  a  vain  phantom  which  has  lured  millions  to  destruc- 
tion ! 

Unfortunate  and  misguided  youth,  may  the  tears  of  the  brave  that 
•have  been  shed  o'er  thy  untimely  fate  propitiate  thine  honoured  shade ! 
— may  the  remembrance  of  thy  virtues  sooth  the  regrets  of  the  friends 
tha^t  survive  thee !  The  turf  that  covers  thy  humble  sepulchre  will  lie 
light  upon  thy  bosom,  for  it  is  not  burthened  with  the  curses  of  the 
widow  or  the  orphan;  whilst  the  marble  that  entombs  the  oppressor 
cannot  shelter  him  from  the  execration  he  merits ! 

The  reader  will,  I  am  sure,  pardon  my  digression.  I  was  unable  to 
check  this  small  tribute  of  respect  to  the  manes  of  one  endowed  with 
every  noble  quality.  Should  a  parent's  eye  peruse  this  tale,  in  deploring 
the  melancholy  event  that  bereaved  him  of  his  son,  he  will,  I  trust,  de- 
rive some  consolation  from  even  my  feeble  efforts  to  do  justice  to  the 
memory  of  my  friend,  and  shield  his  character  from  aspersion. 

How  many  young  men,  like  poor  Risdale,  impelled  by  the  fervour  of 
an  ardent  imagination,  and  the  spirit  of  chivalrous  enterprise,  embraced  a 
cause  which  presented  to  their  view  the  nattering  perspective  of  immor- 
tal renown  ! — how  soon,  alas !  were  the  evergreen  laurels  they  sought 
changed  into  mournful  cypress  !  Denied  even  by  the  soil  they  aided  in 
delivering  from  the  yoke  of  the  despot  a  little  earth  to  cover  their  inani- 
mate remains,  their  mouldering  bones,  the  refuse  of  vultures,  are  still  left 
to  bleach  upon  the  arid  plains  of  Candalaria,  a  sad  memento  of  republican 
gratitude! — But  to  resume  my  narration.  The  company  to  which  Ris- 
dale belonged  was  commanded  by  the  son  of  an  old  British  officer.  Their 
relative  situation  as  comrades  linked  them  together,  whilst  a  similarity  of 
disposition  and  sentiments  cemented  an  attachment,  the  natural  result  of 
this  reciprocity  of  feeling.  Captain  Hodgkinson  was  an  excellent  officer, 
and,  by  his  persevering  exertions,  the  light  company  of  the  "  British 
legion"  would  have  done  credit  to  the  best-disciplined  battalion  in  Europe. 
Respected  and  esteemed  by  his  superiors,  he  was  likewise  beloved  by 
his  equals.  No  man  knew  better  than  himself  how  to  draw  the  line  of  dis- 
tinction betwixt  hauteur  and  prudent  reserve.  He  was  condescending  to 
all,  familiar  with  none ;  but  he  regarded  Risdale  in  the  double  light  of 
friend  and  pupil,  and  took  both  pride  and  pleasure  in  imparting  to  him 
the  fruits  of  his  experience.  Under  these  friendly  auspices  the  young 
aspirant  soon  became  a  proficient  in  all  military  exercises,  and  bid  fair  to 
rival  his  instructor,  which  Hodgkinson  rather  gloried  in  than  envied. 
Proud  of  his  own  creation,  he  neglected  no  opportunity  of  extolling  the 
merits  of  his  youthful  competitor  ;  and  the  affection  which  they  mutually 
cherished  towards  each  other  made  them  inseparable  companions,  and 
caused  them  to  be  considered  as  the  Damon  and  Pythias  of  modern  friend- 
ship. 

The  very  soul  of  honour  himself,  it  is  not  surprising  that  Captain  Hodg- 
kinson should  have  shrunk  from  the  polluting  touch  of  infamy.  Too 


160  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  [AuG. 

sincere  to  disguise  his  feelings  at  any  time,  he  attempted  not  to  restrain 
them  when  the  routine  of  his  professional  duties  brought  him  into 
contact  with  the  degraded  Trayner.  His  heart  would  have  sympathized 
with  misfortune,  might  have  wept  over  the  delusions  of  error,  but  never 
could  hold  communion  with  guilt.  Trayner's  barefaced  impudence  dis- 
gusted him,  and  he  evinced  his  abhorrence  on  every  occasion  by  the 
most  sovereign  contempt.  Risdale  of  course  partook  of  his  friend's  an- 
tipathy ;  and  both  rendered  themselves,  in  consequence,  more  especially 
the  objects  of  a  villain's  hatred !  Too  cowardly  openly  to  evince  his 
enmity,  Trayner  meditated  a  plan  of  vengeance  so  diabolical  in  its  nature, 
and  so  sudden  in  its  result,  that  it  fell  with  the  velocity  of  the  thunder- 
bolt upon  its  unsuspecting  victims,  without  affording  the  slightest  warn- 
ing of  its  fatal  approach. 

Making  his  patron's  ill-placed  confidence  subservient  to  his  purposes, 
he  secretly  employed  emissaries  to  foment  the  general  discontent  that 
still  prevailed  amongst  the  men  of  the  "  British  legion ;"  and  by  en- 
forcing the  performance  of  vexatious  duties,  curtailing  the  rations,  and 
giving  harsh  replies  to  the  repeated  remonstrances  for  a  redress  of 
grievances  become  almost  too  heavy  to  be  borne — all  which  he  pretended 
to  do  in  the  name  of  the  colonel,  although  Blosset  was  really  uncon- 
scious of  this  abuse  of  his  authority — he  so  irritated  the  minds  of  the 
soldiers  against  their  commander,  that  they  only  waited  a  favourable 
opportunity  of  breaking  out  into  open  revolt.  Like  a  skilful  angler,  he 
let  them  nibble  at  the  bait,  in  the  conscious  security  of  being  able  to 
hook  his  prey  at  any  moment  it  might  suit  his  convenience ;  and  the 
hour  drew  near  that  was  to  present  the  garrison  of  Achaquas  with  a 
tragedy  conceived  and  executed  by  a  fiend  in  human  shape,  and  teach 
the  inhabitants  of  the  New  World  this  great  moral  lesson, — that  an  all- 
wise  Providence  may  at  times  permit  the  triumph  of  powerful  guilt  over 
feeble  innocence ! 

Most  of  my  readers  are  of  course  well  aware  that  in  catholic  coun- 
tries it  is  the  common  usage  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  the  canoniza- 
tion of  each  and  every  saint  in  the  calendar.  On  these  occasions  the  in- 
dividual whose  name  may  correspond  with  that  belonging  to  any  of  these 
sanctified  worthies  regards  it  as  his  own  particular  festival,  and  keeps  it 
as  we  protestants  do  our  birthdays.  Now  it  so  happened,  that  the 
good  lady  to  whom  the  present  ' '  Liberator"  of  Colombia  owes  his  ex- 
istence was  prevailed  upon  by  the  orthodox  gossips  to  select  the  venera- 
ble Saint  Simon  as  her  son's  patron  :  the  motive  that  led  to  this  choice, 
or  the  arguments  for  and  against  its  adoption,  or  whether  it  was  decreed 
Cf  nemine  contradicente"  the  annals  of  the  Bolivarian  family  sayeth  not ! 
It  suffices  that  I  acquaint  my  reader,  who  may  not  possess  the  advan- 
tages of  this  saintly  patronage,  that  such  was  the  fact,  and  the  day  ra- 
pidly advancing  that  was  to  afford  to  all  classes  of  the  republic  an  op- 
portunity of  blending  with  their  devotion  to  the  saint  a  demonstration 
of  respectful  homage  to  the  virtues  of  their  ruler  ! 

Bright  and  glorious  rose  the  sun  upon  the  morn  that  preceded  the 
Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  as  if  unconscious  that  his  setting  rays  were  doomed 
to  linger  on  a  scene  of  carnage ! 

All  in  the  little  town  of  Achaquas  were  actively  engaged  in  making 
preparation  for  the  coming  festival. — Besides  illuminations,  it  was  in- 
tended to  amuse  the  populace  with  the  favourite  spectacle  of  a  bull-fight, 
and  messengers  were  despatched  to  bring  from  the  plains  some  of  the 


1830.]  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  161 

fiercest  of  these  animals  :  it  was  likewise  in  contemplation  to  represent 
a  drama,  in  which  several  of  the  officers  were  to  enact  parts ;  and  the 
light  company  of  the  "  legion"  (being  the  first  for  fatigue-duty)  were 
sent  to  the  woods  to  collect  materials  for  the  erection  of  a  temporary 
theatre  in  the  "  Grande  Plaza :"  parades  were  to  be  dispensed  with 
throughout  the  garrison  during  the  day,  and  all  wore  the  face  of  seem- 
ing hilarity.  It  might  have  been  remarked,  however,  that  the  soldiers 
of  the  "  legion"  more  particularly  confined  themselves  to  the  precincts 
of  their  barracks,  which  occupied  an  angle  of  the  square,  and  from 
whence  they  appeared  to  be  unconcerned  spectators  of  all  that  passed 
without.  Things  remained  in  this  tranquil  state  till  the  return  of  the  light 
company.  These  poor  fellows  had  been  exposed  for  several  hours  to  the 
heat  of  the  sun :  ardent  spirits  had  been  twice  or  thrice  administered 
to  them,  and  under  the  influence  of  the  excitement  it  produced  they 
became  noisy  and  riotous.  Upon  this  result  Trayner  had  calculated.  He 
had  himself  fired  the  train,  and  with  all  the  feelings  of  gratified  malice 
he  anxiously  expected  the  issue  of  the  general  explosion.  He  was  to  be 
seen  in  different  parts  of  the  town  driving  the  inebriated  and  unarmed 
men  before  him  with  his  naked  sabre  :  he  at  last  encountered  Risdale, 
and  reproached  him  in  most  unqualified  terms  with  the  state  of  the  com- 
pany, who  with  truth  replied,  that  he  did  not  hold  himself  responsible 
for  their  conduct,  since  they  had  not  been  under  his  orders  during  the 
period  of  their  fatigue-services,  and  advised  soothing  measures  to  be  em- 
ployed to  recall  the  men  to  their  senses.  This  counsel  Trayner  imperi- 
ously rejected,  adding,  "  You,  sir,  are  as  drunk  as  those  whose  cause 
you  espouse !"  Indignant  at  a  charge  so  void  of  foundation,  and  under 
the  impulse  of  the  moment,  Risdale  gave  his  accuser  the  lie.  Major 
Carter  of  the  legion  coming  up  at  that  instant,  the  expression  was  by 
Trayner  represented  as  an  act  of  insubordination,  and  Risdale  ordered 
under  an  arrest,  a  mandate  he  immediately  obeyed  by  retiring  to  his 
quarters. 

Meantime  the  barracks  presented  a  scene  of  confusion.  The  whole  of 
the  men  were  assembled,  and  appeared  to  be  discussing  the  best  mode 
of  action.  Some  proposed  to  address  a  respectful  remonstrance  to  Paez, 
stating  their  request,  that  Blosset  might  be  removed  from  the  command, 
and  offering  to  serve  under  a  Creole  colonel  of  their  own  selection  (and 
here  the  name  of  Gomez  was  loudly  vociferated);  others  expressed  their 
doubts  of  the  efficacy  of  an  appeal,  and  their  determination  to  seek 
justice  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet:  all  were  unanimous  in  declaring 
they  would  no  longer  submit  to  the  neglect  and  tyranny  of  a  superior 
who  seemed  to  forget  that  he  was  himself  an  Englishman.  They  had 
scarcely  arrived  at  this  unity  of  decision,  when  one  or  two  men  who 
had  witnessed  the  altercation  between  Trayner  and  Risdale  burst  in 
upon  the  meeting,  and  related  the  occurrence.  The  men's  minds,  already 
in  a  state  of  ferment,  wanted  but  this  additional  stimulus  to  render 
them  desperate.  One  of  the  regimental  bugles  sounded  the  shrill  call 
to  "  arms ;"  and  the  next  instant  the  whole,  with  fixed  bayonets,  rushed 
into  the  "  Grande  Plaza,"  and  formed  in  line  of  battle ! 

The  noise  now  became  astounding;  and,  at  intervals,  cries  of 
"  Down  with  Blosset !"  "  Death  to  Trayner  !"  "  A  Creole  commander  !" 
"  Gomez  for  ever !"  could  be  distinguished  amid  the  almost  deafening 
din  that  prevailed.  The  greater  part  of  the  officers,  roused  from  the 
"  siesta"  they  had  been  indulging  in,  were  seen  hurrying  half-equipped 

M.M.  New  Series VOL.  X.  No.  56.  X 


162  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  FAuo. 

along  the  different  streets  leading  to  the  Great  Square.  Among  the  first 
to  reach  the  scene  of  riot  was  Lieutenant-Colonel  Davy,  whose  gallant 
attempt  to  quell  the  disturbance  was  quickly  rewarded  with  the  in- 
fliction of  two  or  three  wounds,  and  who  only  preserved  his  life  by  the 
prompt  rescue  afforded  him  by  some  of  his  friends  who  had  fortunately 
followed  his  steps.  The  infuriate  soldiers  resisted  all  endeavours  to 
pacify  them  :  luckily  they  had  no  ammunition,,  or  the  result  might  have 
proved  fatal  to  many.  Trayner,  with  true  characteristic  baseness,  avoided 
the  fury  of  the  storm  he  had  conjured ;  and  Blosset,  who  now  made  his 
appearance  with  wildness  depicted  on  his  countenance,  would  have 
fallen  a  sacrifice  to  his  unpopularity,  had  not  the  sudden  cry  of  "  Paez  ! 
Paez !"  acted  like  an  electric  shock  upon  the  nerves  of  the  men,  and 
paralyzed  their  faculty  of  action.  With  the  velocity  of  an  eagle  pouncing 
upon  its  prey,  Paez  distanced  all  his  staff  (who  vainly  endeavoured  to 
keep  pace  with  him),  and  stood  calm  and  collected  in  front  of  the  mu- 
tineers :  his  eye  flashing  indignation  was  the  only  visible  indication  of 
his  ruthless  ire.  He  beckoned  to  some  of  his  native  followers,  and  gave 
them  private  orders,  which  they  immediately  proceeded  to  execute.  A 
few  minutes  elapsed,  during  which  period  a  profound  silence  reigned 
where  so  lately  uproar  had  presided.  Paez  soon  discovered,  by  a  glance, 
that  part  of  his  commands  had  been  obeyed.  The  regiment  of  Apure 
drew  up  in  position  to  enfilade  the  rioters,  and  loaded  with  ball-car- 
tridge on  the  spot.  He  then  called  Captain  Wiltheu  (his  English  aide- 
de-camp),  and  directed  him  to  proclaim  aloud,  that  if  any  officer,  non- 
commissioned officer,  or  private,  had  any  complaint  to  make,  he  should 
advance  to  the  front.  Two  or  three  minutes'  pause  succeeded  the  pro- 
mulgation of  this  notice :  at  its  expiration  six  sergeants  deputed  by  the 
men  to  plead  their  cause  with  the  general  quitted  the  ranks,  and  took 
their  station  in  advance,  when  they  were  instantaneously  disarmed  by 
the  native  officers,  who  began  to  muster  in  considerable  numbers  round 
their  tyrannical  leader.* 

The  wily  Trayner  now  deemed  it  time  to  show  himself,  and  approach- 
ing Paez,  informed  him  that  he  had  been  engaged  in  augmenting  the 
Creole  guard  upon  the  magazines,  and  other  precautionary  measures  for 
the  safety  of  the  town,  and  requested  his  further  orders.  Paez  soon 
furnished  him  with  suitable  employment,  by  directing  him  to  super- 
intend the  immediate  execution  of  the  six  men,  whom  he  designated  as 
self-convicted  ringleaders  of  the  revolt.  Trayner  said  something  in  an 
under  tone  to  the  general,  who  ejaculated,  "  Right — certainly  ! — Let  the 
light  company  of  the  '  British  legion'  furnish  the  firing-party,  and  its 
captain  will  command  it !"  What  language  can  portray  Hodgkinson's 
feelings  when  the  cruel  mandate  met  his  ear  ?  He  saw  at  once  the  source 
from  whence  this  malignant  blow  sprung,  and  resolved,  at  the  risk  of 
his  life,  to  defeat  its  purpose.  Stepping  hastily  forward,  and  casting 
his  sword  at  the  feet  of  Paez,  he  thus  addressed  him :  "  General,  when 
I  first  drew  that  weapon,  it  was  in  the  sacred  cause  of  honour  : — it  shall 
never  b.e  sullied  in  the  hands  of  its  owner : — I  therefore  relinquish  it. 
I  came  hither  the  soldier  of  liberty,  and  sworn  enemy  to  oppression, 
and  will  not  degrade  myself  by  becoming  the  deliberate  assassin  of  my 
deluded  countrymen.  My  fate  depends  upon  your  will ;  my  disgrace 

*  I  suppose  Paez  acted  upon  the  principle  that  the  end  justifies  the  means.  The  pro- 
clamation was  a  mere  subterfuge,  since  he  had  not  the  most  distant  idea  of  listening  to 
complaints,  much  less  of  redressing  them ! 


1830.]  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  163 

or  honour  upon  my  own  !"  During  this  intrepid  speech,  Paez  evinced 
no  emotion,  whilst  all  around  betrayed  more  or  less  agitation.  Pity 
and  admiration  were  the  predominant  sensations;  for  few,  if  any,  doubted 
but  his  doom  was  fixed  !  Blosset  had  been  intimate  with  Hodgkinson' s 
father,  and  now  resolved  to  make  an  effort  in  favour  of  the  son,  and 
forestall  a  sentence  which,  once  pronounced  by  Paez,  would,  like  the 
laws  of  the  "  Medes  and  Persians,"  have  been  irrevocable.  He  hastily 
approached  the  general,  and  entered  into  conversation  with  him.  Their 
language  was  inaudible,  but  from  the  colonel's  gestures  it  might  be 
surmised  that  he  pleaded  the  cause  of  mercy.  Paez's  looks  were  still 
cold  and  relentless.  The  agony  which  every  sensitive  bosom  felt  during 
the  few  minutes  that  this  conference  lasted  is  not  to  be  described :  the 
life  of  a  fellow- creature  depended  on  a  breath ;  and  that  breath,  like 
the  deadly  siroc  of  the  desert,  could  wither  all  who  came  within  its  fatal 
influence !  Paez  speedily  put  a  period  to  the  horror  of  suspense  by  di- 
recting Trayner  to  deprive  Captain  Hodgkinson  of  the  insignia  of  his 
rank,  an  order  which  was  executed  by  the  former  with  all  the  alacrity 
of  gratified  malice,  and  the  noble  victim  of  unmerited  indignity  sent 
under  a  Creole  escort  to  the  guard-room,  thus  escaping  a  scene  his  less 
fortunate  comrades  were  doomed  to  witness,  and  which  was  calculated 
(by  the  terrific  impression  it  made  upon  their  minds)  to  defy  even  the 
obliterating  power  of  time  to  efface  from  their  memory. 

Twelve  men  of  the  light  company  were  now  selected  as  the  execu- 
tioners of  the  six  unhappy  beings  who  stood  in  mute  despair  awaiting 
the  awful  signal  of  their  death.  Hodgkinson  and  Risdale's  absence  had, 
however,  left  them  without  an  officer.  This  circumstance  was  reported 
to  the  general,  who  caused  proclamation  to  be  made  through  an  aide- 
de-camp,  that  any  subaltern  of  the  "  British  legion"  volunteering  the 
duty  should  be  promoted  to  the  rank  of  captain.  I  think  I  hear  my 
reader  exclaim,  "  Great  God  !  is  it  possible  that  a  British  officer  could  be 
induced  by  the  promise  of  any  reward  to  accept  such  an  office  ?"  Softly, 
kind  reader;  you  form  too  favourable  an  estimate  of  human  nature :  sad  ex- 
perience may  yet  convince  you,  as  it  has  myself,  that  self-interest  is  too 
often  the  main  spring  of  our  actions  ;  yet  I  hope  and  believe  there  are 
many  exceptions  to  be  met  with  in  all  classes  of  society,  in  none  more 
so  than  our  gallant  officers  of  both  services,  The  Navy  and  Army  of 
Great  Britain  ;  in  which  numbers  might  be  found  to  possess  the  magna- 
nimity of  an  Hodgkinson — few,  if  any,  that  could  be  seduced  by  bribery, 
or  influenced  by  fear,  to  follow  an  example  which  truth  now  compels  me 
to  record. 

Belonging  to  the  grenadiers  of  the  "  legion,"  there  was  a  man  of  the 
name  of  Gill,  who,  from  the  rank  of  sergeant,  which  he  held  on  leaving 
England,  had  for  his  good  conduct,  cleanliness  of  appearance,  and  other 
soldierlike  qualities,  been  promoted  to  a  second  lieutenancy.  He  had  for- 
merly been  a  private  in  one  of  our  regiments  of  life-guards,  where  I  have 
always  understood  he  obtained  the  reputation  of  a  steady,  sober,  and 
well-conducted  man.  However  high  his  character  might  stand  on  these 
points,  yet  it  could  not  be  expected,  from  the  nature  and  quality  of  his 
former  habits  and  associates,  that  he  should  possess  that  delicacy  of  feel- 
ing, that  nice  sense  of  honour,  that  tact  of  discriminating  accurately  be- 
tween obedience  and  servility,  which  distinguishes  the  gentleman  from 
the  plebeian,  and  stamps  him  with  that  superiority  over  his  species  (by 
the  world)  denominated  polish,  and  which  is  alone  to  be  acquired  by 

X  2 


164  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  QAuo. 

education,  and  a  constant  intercourse  with  good  society.  It  is  not  sur- 
prising, therefore,  that  Gill,  wholly  destitute  of  these  refinements,  should 
have  acted  according  to  his  own  limited  comprehension  of  right  and 
wrong,  and  eagerly  embraced  the  opportunity  of  preferment  which  now 
unexpectedly  presented  itself.  Scarcely  had  the  sound  of  Paez's  allur- 
ing offer  died  upon  the  air,  when  he  advanced,  and  received  from  the 
hands  of  the  general  those  epaulettes  which  had  lately  appertained  to 
Hodgkinson  ;  and  as  soon  as  the  officious  Trayner  had  aided  in  adjusting 
them  to  his  shoulders,  he  proceeded,  with  the  most  perfect  "  sang  froid," 
to  place  himself  at  the  head  of  the  firing-party  !  !  ! 

And  here  I  must  request  my  reader's  permission  to  pause  for  an  in- 
stant to  nerve  myself  for  the  horrid  task  I  have  undertaken.  How  shall 
I  find  words  to  narrate  an  event  that  beggars  description  ?  The  vivid 
colouring  of  creative  fancy  would  fail  in  its  attempt  to  paint  the  sad 
reality  !  Some  years  have  elapsed,  and  still  the  dreadful  scene  is  as  fresh 
in  my  recollection  as  at  the  hour  I  witnessed  it.  Too  faithful  memory 
retraces  every  incident.  I  yet  behold  (in  imagination)  the  "  Grande 
Plaza,"  the  assembled  troops,  the  stern  and  ruthless  Paez  with  his  drawn 
sword  (like  his  prototype,  the  fiendish  Richard),  in  an  assumed  reverie, 
tracing  lines  upon  the  sandy  soil  at  his  feet.  I  see  the  pallid  and  implor- 
ing looks  of  the  unhappy  sufferers  wandering  from  one  object  to  an- 
other, till  they  rest  in  all  the  fixidity  of  despair  upon  the  platoon,  which 
with  evident  reluctance  is  slowly  preparing  the  murderous  tube.  At  a 
little  distance  I  perceive  the  infamous  Trayner  (like  the  demon  o'er 
the  fall  of  man)  exulting  in  the  desolation  he  has  caused.  I  see  dejec- 
tion portrayed  on  the  countenance  of  the  men  of  the  "  legion,"  whilst 
the  drooping  heads  and  downcast  eyes  of  the  officers  betray  their  inward 
emotion.  A  cry  of  agony  wounds  my  ear.  I  turn,  and  behold  a  group  of 
Creole  banditti  forcing  the  six  struggling  victims  towards  the  low  wall 
that  connects  the  church  with  the  "  Caza  del  Cura."  I  see  them  arrive 
there,  and  constrained  to  kneel.  The  fatal  platoon  advances,  halts.  I  hear 
the  word  "  Make  ready."  I  close  my  eyes  in  fearful  anticipation  of  the 
next  order  :  a  shout  causes  me  to  reopen  them.  The  six  unhappy  men,  as 
if  actuated  by  one  simultaneous  impulse,  have  leaped  the  enclosure,  and 
are  making  their  way  through  the  cemetery  to  the  woods  in  the  rear. 
Vain,  alas  !  are  their  hopes  of  safety.  Mounted  and  dismounted  Creoles 
are  pursuing  them  with  the  speed  and  fury  of  blood-hounds.  They  are 
turned,  and  again  driven  back  to  the  square.  The  foremost,  panting  for 
breath,  directs  his  flight  towards  Paez  (with  a  view,  perhaps,  of  exciting 
his  compassion) :  he  has  nearly  reached  the  goal  he  strives  to  attain.  Mer- 
ciful Heaven  !  Trayner,  the  diabolical  Trayner,  intercepts  his  progress, 
and  betrays  his  last  hope !  The  villain's  sword  has  passed  through  his 
palpitating  bosom.  I  hear  his  shriek  of  anguish,  I  see  him  fall — I  can  be- 
hold no  more — my  sight  grows  dim — every  faculty  is  enchained  by  horror 
— an  indistinct  sensation  of  confused  sounds  is  the  only  evidence  I  retain 
of  existence.  How  long  this  stupor  lasts  I  know  not :  when  I  recover,  I 
find  myself  alone  in  the  "  Grande  Plaza ;"  the  troops  are  dismissed ;  the 
last  gleam  of  twilight  has  just  sank  into  the  obscurity  of  night ;  six  bloody 
corses,  extended  where  they  fell,  are  damning  proofs  of  the  recent  mas- 
sacre. Replete  with  melancholy  forebodings,  I  take  the  road  to  my  quar- 
ters. As  I  pass  the  general's  house,  the  sound  of  music  assails  my  ear.  I 
approach  an  open  window.  The  barbarian  is  enjoying  the  pleasures  of  the 
sprightly  dance,  whilst  the  mangled  remains  of  six  fellow-creatures  lie 


1830.]  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  165 

weltering  in  their  gore  only  fifty  yards  distant  from  the  scene  of  his  fes- 
tivity ! !  I  hear  a  toast  proposed :  'it  is  the  health  of  Bolivar.  The  deafen- 
ing "  Vivas"  that  accompany  the  libation  recall  to  my  mind  that  it  is 
the  Eve  of  Saint  Simon  !  !  I 

******* 

The  last  scene  of  this  eventful  drama  had  still  to  be  represented,  and 
the  patron  saint  of  the  republican  leader  yet  to  be  propitiated,  by  a  fur- 
ther offering  of  human  sacrifice  ! 

The  morn  dawned  again  upon  the  town  of  Achaquas,  but  the  sun  de- 
nied to  its  inhabitants  the  cheering  influence  of  his  rays.  The  mutilated 
bodies  of  the  six  unfortunate  wretches  had  (by  the  friendly  aid  of  some 
of  their  comrades)  being  consigned  to  the  peaceful  grave.  The  heavy  rain 
which  fell  during  the  night  had  washed  away  the  purple  evidence  that 
so  lately  marked  the  scene  of  slaughter.  The  gloom  of  the  atmosphere 
imparted  its  sombre  tint  to  the  features  of  the  British  as  they  mustered 
for  the  parade,  to  which  the  shrill  note  of  the  bugle  had  just  summoned 
them.  It  was  known  that  two  privates  of  the  legion,  who  had  been 
recognized  as  having  wounded  Lieut.-Colonel  Davy,  were  to  make  expi- 
ation for  their  crime ;  but  the  fate  of  these  men  created  little  or  no  sym- 
pathy :  the  justice  of  their  doom  was  universally  acknowledged.  The 
hollow  square  was  quickly  formed;  its  fourth  face  supplied  by  the  wall 
before  described  :  in  it  stood  Paez  :  the  same  look  of  remorseless  severity 
sate  upon  his  brow,  but  he  appeared  (unusual  with  him)  to  be  absorbed 
in  thought ;  he  noticed  not  the  objects  that  surrounded  him ;  nor  did  he 
condescend  to  return  (or  perhaps  heeded  not)  the  salutation  which  the 
superior  officers  paid  him  on  his  arrival. 

On  Blosset's  face  (who  stood  at  a  little  distance  from  the  general) 
might  be  discerned  an  undetfinable  something  that  told  the  beholder  all 
was  not  right  within,  an  outward  restlessness  that  bespoke  the  heart  ill 
at  ease  with  itself:  this  sensation  was  contagious  ;  and  as  the  officers  of 
the  "  legion"  watched  the  vacillating  motion  of  his  body,  and  the  unset- 
tled glance  of  his  eye,  they  felt  a  "presentiment"  of  evil  irresistibly  steal 
upon  their  minds.  In  this  mood,  the  deep  and  almost  appalling  silence 
that  had  hitherto  reigned  was  broken  by  a  lengthened  roll  of  muffled 
drums,  and  immediately  succeeded  by  a  full-toned  peal  of  martial  music. 
It  was  the  dead  march  in  Saul !  Every  heart  vibrated  to  the  sound,  every 
eye  was  strained  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  procession,  which  was  now 
seen  slowly  advancing  by  the  principal  street  leading  to  the  <e  Grande 
Plaza."  Twelve  men  (with  their  arms  reversed)  headed  the  line  of 
march  ;  next  came  six  drummers  with  muffled  drums ;  these  were  followed 
by  the  band  of  the  "  legion ;"  then  came  the  unfortunate  criminals,  by 
whose  side  marched  Trayiier ;  twelve  more  men  brought  up  the  rear. 
This  military  pomp  (an  unusual  display  at  the  execution  of  private  sol- 
diers) appeared  singular.  At  length  the  horrid  truth  flashed  upon  the 
mind  !  An  officer  was  to  die  !  and  that  officer  could  be  only  Hodgkinson* 
or  Risdale,  perhaps  both  !  As  the  procession  drew  nigh,  the  doubt  was 
solved.  The  two  mutineers  were  tied  together  by  the  arms.  Immediately 
after  them  came  Risdale,  closely  escorted  by  Trayner.  They  entered  the 

*  Hodgkinson  certainly  owed  the  preservation  of  his  life  to  Blosset's  intercession.  He 
was  by  Paez  sent  down  to  Angostura,  a  town  on  the  banks  of  the  Orinoco,  and  at  that 
time  the  seat  of  Government.  Reinstated  in  his  rank  by  the  authorities  there,  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  truce  he  joined  the  army  at  Barinas,  Bolivar's  head-quarters,  just  prior 
to  the  opening  of  the  campaign  that  terminated  so  gloriously  on  the  field  of  Caraboba. 


166  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  L^UG- 

square.   Up  to  that  instant,  the  young  man  had  received  no  intimation  of 
his  doom  !     When  those  of  his  brother-officers  who  resided  in  the  same 
quarters  had  quitted,  a  short  time  previous,  to  attend  parade,  they  left 
him  congratulating  himself  that  his  arrest  would  spare  him  the  painful 
task  of  witnessing  the  death  of  the  very  men  whose  fate  he  was  now 
unconsciously  to  share  !     Blosset  now  advanced  and  dropped  the  point 
of  his  sword  to  Paez,  who,  without  changing  his  position,  replied  to  this 
silent  but  unequivocal  demand,    4f  Let  the  execution  proceed  /"*      The 
two  men  were  now  placed  on  their  knees,  with  their  faces  towards  the 
wall ;  the  platoon,  in  double  file,  took  their  station  at  about  ten  paces' 
distance  from  the  objects  of  their  aim  ;  then,  and  not  till  then,  Trayner 
approached  Risdale,  and  made  a  motion  to  dispossess  him  of  his  uniform 
jacket.  Risdale  started  back  as  though  he  had  trodden  on  a  viper,  and 
the  ejaculation  of,  "  Am  /really  one  of  the  unfortunate  beings  to  die?" 
burst  from  his  lips.    The  agony  of  that  moment,  to  be  felt,  must  have 
been  witnessed  :  it  cannot  be  described  !    He  gazed  vacantly  round  him : 
who  can  paint  the  unutterable  anguish  which  that  look  portrayed  ?    A 
convulsive  motion  agitated  his  frame,  an  involuntary  tribute  paid  to  fee- 
ble nature ;  and  when  Blosset  bade  him  bear  his  fate  like  a  ?nati,  he  an- 
swered  firmly,  (in  the  words  of  "  Macduff,")  "  I  shall,  but  must  likewise 
feel  it  as  a  man  !"     Another  moment  restored  him  to  self-possession.  He 
divested  himself  of  his  uniform,  and  cast  it  with  indignation  at  his  feet: 
he  then  glanced  tremulously  round,  till  his  eye  rested  on  Captain  Scott, 
who  commanded  the  company  on  the  extreme  right  of  the  square  :  he 
articulated  his  name.    Scott,  yielding  to  the  sudden  impulse,  sprung  to- 
wards him,  but  was  arrested  by  Blosset,  and  compelled  to  resume  his 
post.     The  colonel  asked  Risdale  what  he  desired  ?    and  on  his  reply- 
ing, that  he  merely  wished  his  family  to  be  informed  of  his  doom,  promised 
that  his  wish  should  be  complied  with.     From  this  instant,  never  was 
greater  courage  displayed  by  mortal,  than   was  evinced   by  Risdale. 
With  unfaltering  steps  he  approached  the  fatal  spot,  and  knelt  in  front 
of  the  party  that  was  to  terminate  his  existence !  His  eyes  were  unban- 
daged,  and,  by  a  refinement  of  barbarity  (which  could  only  have  ema- 
nated from  the  villainous  Trayner,  upon  whom  the  arrangements  had 
devolved),  the  muskets  were  unloaded,  and  each  succeeding  word  of 
command  of  the  "  platoon  exercise,"  as  it  was  audibly   pronounced, 
sounded  like  a  reiterated  knell  of  death  on  the  ears  of  the  unfortunate 
victims,  and  protracted  the  agony  of  their   sufferings.     At  the  word 
"  Make  ready,"  Risdale  raised  his  hands,  and  crossed  them  upon  his 
bosom  in  token  of  resignation  ;  the  next  moment  his  body  lay  extended 
a  bloody  and  a  breathless  corse,  and  left  his  pure  spirit  to  wing  its 
flight  to  brighter  realms  with  the  damning  record  of  man's  injustice  ! 

I  have  little  more  to  add :  it  may,  however,  gratify  my  reader  to 
learn,  that  the  "  Eye  of  Providence"  winked  not  at  oppression.  Six 
weeks  had  scarcely  elapsed  since  the  dreadful  scene  I  have  related 
took  place,  when  Blosset  was  wounded  in  a  duel  by  Major  Power,  who 
had  served  in  the  same  regiment  with  him  in  Egypt ;  and  after  linger- 

*  Blosset  weakly  yielding  to  Trayner's  suggestions,  had  the  previous  night,  in  a  con- 
ference with  Paez,  stated  his  opinion,  that  an  example  was  necessary  to  restrain  the  muti. 
nous  spirit  of  the  soldiers  of  the  legion,  and  pointed  out  Bisdale  as  a  proper  object  to 
exercise  severity  upon.  Had  Blosset,  even  at  the  place  of  execution,  spoken  a  word  in  the 
young  man's  behalf,  I  have  no  doubt  Paez  would  willingly  have  reversed  a  sentence  which 
did  not  originate  with  himself,  and  which  he  had  no  interest  in  enforcing. 


1830.]  The  Eve  of  Saint  Simon,  in  Colombia.  167 

ing  three  days,  a  prey  to  all  the  horrors  of  remorse,  he  died  imlarriented, 
and  was  interred  in  the  aisle  of  the  small  church  of  Achaquas  with 
all  the  pomp  of  military  and  masonic  honours  ! 

The  vile  and  detesteid  Trayner,  scouted  by  his  countrymen  (with  the 
rank  of  lieutenant-colonel  conferred  upon  him  by  Paez  in  reward  of  his 
meritorious  services),  joined  a  native  corps  and  accompanied  it  to  a  dis- 
tant province.  In  an  action  which  took  place  some  time  after,  he  was 
wounded,  and  with  the  Creole  colonel  ("Penango"),  deserted  by  his 
men,  left  upon  the  field  of  battle,  writhing  with  pain,  and  parched  with 
thirst,  he  was  found  by  the  Spaniards,  and  by  the  order  of  their 
general,  (the  savage  Morales),  unresistingly  butchered,  thus  affording  a 
terrible  example  of  Divine  retribution  ! 

Several  of  the  personages  mentioned  in  my  tale  still,  I  believe,  exist. 
Years  may  revolve,  and  various  be  the  vicissitudes  of  their  fortune,  yet 
memory  will  never  cease  to  associate  in  its  reminiscence,  with  the  town 
of  Achaquas,  or  the  name  of  the  Colombian  "  Liberator,"  a  recollec- 
tion of  the  horrors  that  resulted  from  the  sanguinary  festival  of  the  Eve 
of  Saint  Simon  !  G.  B.  H. 


SINGULAR    SMITH 

Is  an  individual  of  the  genus  Smith,  a  cognomen  of  so  multitudinous 
an  import,  so  wide- embracing  an  universality,  as  would  render  it  no 
easy  task  to  point  out  the  Smith  intended,  were  it  not  for  the  distin- 
guishing epithet,  Singular.  Hah  !  I  perceive,  gentle  reader,  by  the  puz- 
zled expression  on  your  brows,  and  the  effort  you  are  making,  as  you 
run  through  the  catalogue  of  five  hundred  and  fifty  persons  of  that  name 
whom  you  know  intimately  well,  to  fix  upon  c f  one  bright  particular" 
Smith,  that  you  do  not  know  my  John  Smith.  Give  him  up  at  once,  for 
he  is  a  riddle  you  cannot  solve,  a  conundrum  you  cannot  guess.  If  you 
knew  him,  you  would  be  in  no  dolderum  as  to  which  is  he ;  you  would 
have  picked  him  out  at  once,  as  a  shepherd  selects  a  particular  sheep 
from  a  flock  of  five  hundred.  The  Smith  I  shall  here  illustrate  stands 
out,  from  the  vast  majority  of  Smiths,  a  truly  remarkable  Smith ;  and 
you  know  him  not,  but  shall,  or  there  is  no  painting  by  the  pen. 

John  Smith  was  born  in  the  humble  walks  of  life,  in  Leather-lane, 
from  whence  the  greatest  geniuses  have  generally  sprung.  His  father 
maintained  a  very  large  family  of  little  Smiths,  by  bringing  together 
unconnected  pieces  of  thick  and  thin  cordovan,  in  which  the  lieges  of 
Leather-lane  and  its  liberties  contrived  to  amble.  His  mother  was  the 
"  sole  daughter  of  the  house  and  heart"  of  Mrs.  Selina  Shred,  the 
respectable  widow  of  Mr.  Samuel  Shred,  piece-broker  of  Hatton  Wall. 
Mr.  Samuel  Shred,  born,  like  his  grandson,  under  the  influence  of 
Saturn,  had  a  natural  predilection  for  the  elegiac  muse,  and  was,  if 
rumour  is  to  be  believed,  the  immortal  author  now  no  more  of  those 
true  and  touching  lines,  which  have  since  taken  root  and  flourish  in 
every  churchyard  throughout  England, — 

"  Afflictions  sore 

Long  time  I  bore, 
Physicians  were  in  vain,"  &c. 

It  is,  therefore,  very  reasonably  to  be  inferred  that  our  hero  derived  his 
tendencies  and  talents,  as  well  as  his  birth  and  being,  by  the  mother's 


168  Singular  Smith.  [Auc, 

side ;  his  ancestors  by  the  father's  having  been  remarkable  for  nothing 
remarkable.  The  existence  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir  was  conse- 
quently essential  to  the  glory  of  the  Smiths;  and  this  desirable  consum- 
mation of  all  their  wishes  was  brought  about  in  September,  1790,  at  three 
in  the  morning  arid  33,  Leather-lane.  The  wet-and-dry  and  pap-and- 
panada  period  of  his  puppyage  passed  with  great  credit  to  himself  and 
satisfaction  to  Smiths  in  general.  He  was  pronounced>  una  voce,  to  be 
a  sweet  child,  and  a  darling  of  the  most  dulcet  dispositions. 

His  childhood  exhibited  no  extraordinary  phenomena :  the  germ  of 
his  genius  was  yet  in  the  ground ;  but  it  shot  out  at  last.  The  first 
manifestation  of  his  versatile  powers  displayed  itself  in  his  thirteenth 
year,  in  an  epitaph  on  a  hopeful  schoolfellow,  untimely  choked  in  bolting 
the  largest  half  of  a  hot  roll,  which  he  had  pirated  from  a  smaller  boy. 
It  is  touching,  and  worth  recording : 

"  Here  I  lie  dumb, 

Choked  by  a  crum, 
Which  wouldn't  go  down,  and  wouldn't  up  come." 

The  ' '  needless  Alexandrine"  and  the  daring  inversion  "  up  come"  did 
not  escape  the  malicious  eyes  of  the  critics ;  but  after  they  had  deducted 
as  much  as  they  could  from  the  fame  which  this  first  attempt  necessarily 
brought  him,  he  had  still  enough  to  live  upon  handsomely  ;  and  Holborn, 
wide  as  it  is,  became  hardly  wide  enough  for  his  spreading  reputation. 
His  next  production  was  a  rebus  on  a  kit-cat  portrait  of  the  late  Mr, 
Pitkin  of  immortal  memory,  and  ran  as  follows  : 

"  My  first  is  a  kitten,  my  second  a  cat, 
My  third  is  a  portrait,  my  whole  is  all  that." 

The  "  all  that"  was  not  quite  understood ;  but  so  young  a  genius  could 
not  be  expected  to  find  rhyme,  reason,  and  a  rebus  too  in  a  couplet. 

About  this  time  his  wit  manifested  itself  somewhat  precociously.  His 
venerable  father  was  engaged  at  the  table  on  a  haunch  of  mutton.  The 
carving-knife  and  fork  were  impending  over  the  juicy  indulgence,  when 
an  odour,  not  born  in  the  sweet  south,  nor  breathing  of  a  bank  of  violets, 
"  gave  him  pause."  Mr.  Smith,  senior,  laid  down  his  trenchant  blade, 
and  pushing  up  his  spectacles  to  his  forehead,  bent  his  head  to  the  dish 
to  confirm  his  suspicions ;  they  were  too  true.  "  My  dear,"  said  Mr.  S. 
"  this  mutton  is  not  good — in  short,  it  is  bad."  "  And  smells  so,  pa  !" 
corroborated  Master  John  Smith.  The  fond  father,  feeling  all  the  force 
and  aptness  of  the  quotation  from  his  favourite  Hamlet,  forgot  his  con- 
tempt for  the  mutton  in  wondering  admiration  at  the  brilliant  sally  of  his 
son  and  heir,  and  embracing  the  young  master,  cut  him  a  double  share 
of  pudding  where  the  plums  were  least  "  like  angels'  visits,  few  and 
far  between."  The  bon  mot  circulated  far  and  wide,  and  Master  Smith 
became  at  once 

"  The  cynosure  of  neighbouring  eyes." 

From  this  time  the  field  of  his  genius  was  suffered  to  lie  fallow,  and 
for  many  years  no  more  was  heard  of  him  as  a  candidate  for  the  reward 
of  ' '  gods  and  men" — fame.  Here  I  am  forcibly  reminded  of  a  beautiful 
passage  in  a  poet  of  some  reputation, 

"  Full  many  a  flower  is  born,"  &c. 
which  I  should  willingly  quote  at  length  for  the  benefit  of  readers  who 


1830.]  Singular  Smith.  169 

have  not  read  it ;  but  editors  are  so  impatient  of  their  time  and  space, 
that  space  and  time  would  both  be  annihilated  if  they  had  their  will. 
"  The  child  is  father  of  the  man/' 

sings  a  very  praiseworthy  poet  ;  and  our  hero  corroborated  this  fact  to 
the  letter :  for  as  John  Smith,  junior,  could  never  settle  down  to  any 
profitable  pursuit,  so  neither  could  John  Smith,  senior.  Filled  with  the 
divine  afflatus,  his  soul  soared  above  this  terrene  earth,  and  business 
became  a  bore.  As  some  one  has  said,  his  delights  were  dolphin-like, 
and  played  above  the  element  he  lived  in.  Blest  with  early  competency, 
corpulency,  and  content,  what  were  the  toils  of  the  working-day  world 
to  him  ?  It  was  business  enough  for  him  to  have  nothing  to  do,  and 
his  own  time  to  do  it  in.  He  passed  twenty  years  of  his  term-time  in 
this  pleasant  vacation,  and  was  fully  occupied;  many  who  pass  the  same 
period  more  busily  have  less  to  show  for  it.  Undoubtedly,  the  grand 
intention  of  Mr.  Smith's  existence,  I  may  say  "his  being's  end  and  aim," 
is  to  do  something  which  he  has  not  yet  done — not  even  begun ;  but  all 
in  good  time !  The  world  works  very  well  in  the  interim,  and  can  wait 
his  leisure. 

In  his  thirty-second  year,  the  divine  madness  of  the  Muse  came  upon 
him  once  more ;  and  two  sonnets,  one  to  the  Moon,  the  other  to  the 
Nightingale  (original  subjects,  which  exhibited  the  wealth  of  his  invention 
in  an  exalted  light),  appeared  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine.  Much 
idle  conjecture  as  to  their  authorship  followed,  which  he  enjoyed  with  a 
dignified  reserve  ;  but  the  important  secret  was  well  known,  and  as  well 
kept,  by  his  trust-worthy  friends.  Again  he  "  tuned  his  shepherd's 
reed,"  and  the  purlieus  of  Holborn  rang  with  the  pastoral  pipings  of  the 
Leather-lane  Lycidas :  meanwhile 

"  Satyrs  and  sylvan  boys  were  seen 
Peeping  from  forth  their  alleys — clean ; 
Brown  the  exciseman  smiled  to  hear, 
And  Sims  scored  up  and  drank  a  pot  of  beer." 

Several  years  he  passed  in  what  he  termed  fattening  his  mind  ;  during 
which  process  I  am  afraid  it  arrived  at  the  acme  of  most  other  prize- 
fed  perfections — too  much  fat,  and  too  little  lean. 

Mr.  John  Smith  is  now  a  bachelor,  on  the  young  side  of  forty.  He  is 
in  the  prime  of  that  happy  period,  ere  the  freedom  of  single  blessedness 
has  deteriorated  into  formality,  that  "  last  infirmity  of  noble"  bachelors. 
Caps  have  been,  and  are  now,  set  at  him  ;  but  he  is  too  shy  a  bird  to  be 
caught  in  nets  of  muslin,  or  imprisoned  by  the  fragile  meshes  of  Mechlin 
lace.  Widows  wonder  that  he  does  not  marry ;  wives  think  he  should ; 
and  several  disinterested  maiden  ladies  advise  him  to  think  seriously  of 
something  of  that  sort;  and  he,  always  open  to  conviction,  promises 
that  he  will  do  something  of  that  kind.  In  fact,  he  has  gone  so  far  as  to 
confess  that  it  is  melancholy,  when  he  sneezes  in  the  night,  to  have  no 
one,  night-capped  and  nigh,  to  say  "  God  bless  you !"*  If  the  roguish 
leer  of  his  eye,  in  these  moments  of  compunction,  means  anything,  I  am 
rather  more  than  half  inclined  to  doubt  his  sincerity.  One  argument 
which  he  urges  against  committing  matrimony  is  certainly  undeniable 
— that  there  are  Smiths  enough  in  the  world,  without  his  aiding  and 
abetting  their  increase  and  multiplication  :  he  says  he  shall  wait  till  the 
words  of  Samuel,  "  Now  there  was  no  smith  found  throughout  all 
Israel,"  are  almost  applicable  throughout  all  England :  and  then  he  may, 

M.M.  New  Series— VOL.  X.  No.  56.  Y 


170  Singular  Smith.  [AUG. 

perhaps,  marry.  "  Smiths/'  as  he  says,  "  are  as  plentiful  as  black- 
berries. Throw  a  cat  out  of  every  other  window,  from  one  end  to  the 
other  of  this  metropolis,  and  it  would  fall  on  the  head  of  one  Smith. 
Rush  suddenly  round  a  corner,  and  knock  down  the  first  man  yotu  meet, 
he  is  a  Smith ;  he  prostrates  a  second,  the  second  a  third,  the  third  a 
fourth the  ninth  a  tenth — they  are  all  and  severally  §miths." 

I  am  indeed  afraid  that  he  is  irrecoverably  a  bachelor,  for  several 
reasons  which  I  shall  mention.  He  is,  at  this  time,  "  a  little,  round,  oily 
man,"  five  feet  and  a  half  in  his  shoes ;  much  given  to  poetry,  pedes- 
trianism,  whim,  whistling,  cigars,  and  sonnets ;  "  amorous,"  as  the  poets 
say,  of  umbrageousness  in  the  country,  and  umbrellas  in  the  town; 
rather  bald,  and  addicted  to  Burton  ale :  and  a  lover  of  silence  and  after- 
noon siestas — indeed,  he  is  much  given  to  sleep,  which,  as  he  says,  is 
but  a  return  in  kind ;  for  sleep  was  given  to  man  to  refresh  his  body 
and  keep  his  spirits  in  peace ;  indulgences  these  which  have  any  thing 
but  a  marrying  look :  so  that  no  unwilling  Daphne  has  lost  a  willing 
Damon  in  my  duodecimo  friend.  It  is  too  manifest  that  he  prefers 
liberty,  and  lodgings  for  a  single  gentleman,  to  the  "  Hail,  wedded  love  !" 
of  the  poet  of  Paradise — a  sort  of  clergyman  "  triumphale"  to  which  his 
ear  is  most  unorthodoxically  deaf  when  time  is  called.  He  has  even  gone 
so  far  as  to  compare  good  and  bad  marriages  with  two  very  remarkable 
results  in  chemical  experiment,  by  which,  in  one  instance,  charcoal  is 
converted  into  diamond,  and  in  the  other,  diamond  is  deflagrated  into 
charcoal.  The  fortunate  Benedict  marries  charcoal,  which,  after  a  pa- 
tient process,  proves  a  diamond :  the  unfortunate  husband  weds  a  dia- 
mond, which,  tried  in  the  fire  of  adversity,  turns  out  charcoal.  Yet  he 
is  not  unalive  to  those  soft  impressions  which  betoken  a  sensitive  nature. 
He  has  been  twice  in  love ;  thrice  to  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's  with  the 
three  sisters  Simpson,  and  once  to  Richmond  by  water  with  a  Miss 
Robinson,  in  May,  that  auspicious  month,  dedicated  to  love  and  lettuces. 
These  are  perhaps  the  only  incidents  in  his  unchequered  life  which  ap- 
proach the  romantic  and  the  sentimental ;  yet  he  has  passed  through  the 
ordeal  unsinged  at  heart,  and  is  still  a  bachelor.  He  was,  at  one  time, 
passionately  partial  to  music  and  mutton-chops,  muffins  and  melancholy, 
predilections  much  cultivated  by  an  inherent  good  taste,  and  an  ardent 
love  of  the  agreeable ;  yet  he  has  taken  to  himself  no  one  to  do  his 
mutton  and  music,  no  one  to  soften  his  melancholy  and  spread  his 
muffins.  It  is  unaccountable ;  the  ladies  say  so,  and  I  agree  with 
them. 

I  have  mentioned  «  the  things  he  is  inclined  to ;"  I  must  now  specify 
"  those  he  has  no  mind  to."  His  antipathies  are  tight  boots  and  bad  ale 
— two  of  the  evils  of  life  (which  is  at  best  but  of  a  mingled  yarn)  for 
which  he  has  an  aversion  almost  amounting  to  the  impatient.  His  dis- 
like to  a  scold  is  likewise  most  remarkable,  perhaps  peculiar  to  himself; 
for  I  do  not  remember  to  have  noticed  the  antipathy  in  any  one  beside. 
A  relation  is,  to  be  sure,  linked  to  a  worthy  descendant  of  Xantippe  ; 
and  this  perhaps  is  the  key  to  his  objections  to  the  padlock  of  matrimony. 

It  is  the  bounden  duty  of  a  biographer  (and  I  consider  this  paper  to 
be  biographical)  to  give,  in  as  few  words  as  possible,  the  likeness  of  his 
hero.  Two  or  three  traits  are  as  good  as  two  or  three  thousand,  where 
volume-making  is  not  the  prime  consideration.  He  is  eccentric,  but 
without  a  shadow  of  turning.  He  is  sensitive  to  excess  ;  for,  though  no 
one  ever  has  horsewhipped  him,  I  have  no  doubt  if  either  A.  or  B. 


1830.]  Singular  Smith.  171 

should,  he  would  wince  amazingly  under  the  infliction,  and  be  very 
much  hurt  in  his  feelings.  Indeed,  he  does  not  merit  any  such  notice 
from  any  one ;  for  he  has  none  of  that  provoking  irascibility  generally 
attendant  on  genius  (for  he  is  a  genius,  as  I  have  shown,  and  shall  pre- 
sently show).  He  was  never  known  to  have  been  engaged  in  more  than 
one  literary  altercation ;  then  he  endeavoured,  but  in  vain,  to  convince 
his  grocer,  who  had  beaten  his  boy  to  the  blueness  of  stone-blue  for 
spelling  sugar  without  an  h,  that  he  was  assuredly  not  borne  out  in  his 
orthography  by  Johnson  and  Walker. 

To  sum  up  the  more  prominent  points  of  his  character  in  few  words. 
As  he  is  a  great  respecter  of  himself,  so  he  is  a  great  respecter  of  all 
persons  in  authority  :  his  bow  to  a  beadle  on  Sundays  is  indeed  a  lesson 
in  humility.  Being  a  sincere  lover  of  his  country,  he  is  also  a  sincere 
lover  of  himself:  he  prefers  roast  beef  and  plum-pudding  to  any  of  your 
foreign  kickshaws ;  and  drinks  the  Colonnade  champagne  when  he  can, 
to  encourage  the  growth  of  English  gooseberries;  smokes  largely,  to 
contribute  his  modicum  to  the  home- consumption  j  pays  all  government 
demands  with  a  cheerfulness  unusual  and  altogether  perplexing  to  tax- 
gatherers  ;  and  subscribes  to  a  lying-in  hospital  (two  guineas  annually — 
nothing  more) .  In  short,  if  he  has  not  every  virtue  under  heaven,  it  is 
no  fault  of  Mr.  Smith.  The  virtues,  he  has  been  heard  to  say,  are 
such  high-priced  luxuries,  that  a  man  of  moderate  income  cannot  afford 
to  indulge  much  in  them. 

These  are  Mr.  John  Smith's  good  qualities :  if  he  has  failings,  they 
"  lean  to  virtue's  side,"  but  do  not  much  affect  his  equilibrium  :  he  is  a 
perpendicular  man  in  general,  and  not  tall  enough  in  his  own  conceit  to 
stoop  when  he  passes  under  Temple  Bar.  If  he  is  singular,  he  lays  it 
to  the  accident  of  his  birth  :  he  was  the  seventh  Smith  of  a  seventh  Smith. 
This  fortuitous  catenation  in  the  links  of  the  long  chain  of  circumstance, 
which  has  before  now  bestowed  on  a  fool  the  reputation  of"  a  wise  man," 
only  rendered  him,  as  he  is  free  to  confess,  an  odd  man.  His  pursuits 
have  indeed  of  late  been  numerous  beyond  mention,  and  being  taken  up 
in  whimsies,  ended  in  oddities.  As  1  have  said,  he  wrote  verses,  and 
they  were  thought  by  some  people  to  be  very  odd  and  unaccountable. 

He  lost  a  Miss ,  who  was  dear  to  him,  in  trinket  expenses  more 

especially,  through  a  point  of  poetical  etiquette  certainly  very  unpar- 
donable. In  some  lines  addressed  to  that  amiable  spinster  and  deep- 
dyed  has  bleu,  he  had  occasion  to  use  the  words  one  and  two)  and 
either  from  the  ardour  of  haste,  or  the  inconsiderateness  of  love,  which 
makes  the  wisest  of  us  commit  ourselves,  or  perhaps  from  the  narrow- 
ness of  his  note-paper,  he  penned  the  passage  thus : — 

"  Nature  has  made  us  2,  but  Love  shall  make  us  1 ; 
1  mind,  1  soul,  1  heart,"  &c. 

This  reminded  the  learned  lady  too  irresistibly  of  a  catalogue  of  sale — 
1  warming-pan,  2  stoves,  1  stewpan,  1  smokejack,  £c.,  and  she  dismissed 
him  in  high  dudgeon. 

It  was  now  that,  to  divert  his  attention  from  the  too  "  charming  agonies 
of  love,  whose  miseries  delight"  every  one  but  the  invalid  himself,  he 
took  to  landscape  painting.  The  connoisseurs,  who  know  something, 
asserted  that  he  had  the  oddest  notions  of  the  picturesque  that  ever  dis- 
guised canvas.  His  cattle  did  indeed  much  more  resemble  the  basket- 
balls of  a  pantomime,  than  the  kine  of  nature.  His  sheep  had  an  un- 

Y  2 


172  Singular  Smith.  £AuG. 

muttonly  look  :  the  lambs  were  like  hosiers'  signs ;  as  for  the  Corydons 
who  tended  them,  they  only  wanted  the  usual  badge  with  '  No.  29'  on 
the  arm  to  give  one  the  beau  ideal  of  Smithfield  Arcadians.  He  next 
essayed  the  historical :  his  Marc  Antony  had  no  "  mark  or  likelihood :" 
his  Caesar  looked  like  the  Czar  of  Muscovy ;  his  Brutus  a  thorough 
brute ;  his  Dollabella  like  Dollalolla ;  and  his  Pompey  the  Great  like 
Pompey  the  Little.  Fuseli  was  no  longer  thought  extravagant ;  and 
Blake's  monstrous  illustrations  of  Blair  provoked  wonder  no  more. 
Tired  of  the  pallet,  he  then  tried  experimental  chemistry  ;  but  having 
over-charged  a  retort,  it  retorted  upon  him,  and  discharged  into  thin  air 
a  tragic  poet  and  a  light  comedian  occupying  the  attics,  with  "  all  their 
imperfections"  and  half  a  ton  of  tiles  "  on  their  heads."  Mr.  Smith 
is  now  engaged  in  a  strict  search  after  the  philosophers'  stone ;  and  as 
he  has  already  discovered  Whittington's,  it  is  not  impossible  that  he 
may  be  equally  successful  in  his  present  scientific  researches. 

This  inconstancy  of  pursuit  is,  however,  an  error  of  the  head,  which 
has  been  observable  in  men  equally  eminent  with  Mr.  Smith.  An  inge- 
nious man  may,  in  this  liberal  age,  be  allowed  to  drive  his  hobby,  or 
hobbies,  single,  or  six  abreast  like  Mr.  Ducrow,  if  he  keeps  on  his  own 
side  of  the  road,  and  refrains  from  riding  over  the  hobbies  of  others. 
In  more  stable  qualities  Mr.  Smith  is  of  a  more  stable  nature:  here, 
indeed,  his  true  singularity  lies.  But  I  pass  this  part  of  his  character, 
and  come,  lastly,  to  his  waggery,  which  is  perhaps  the  best  portion  of 
it.  His  genius  is  nothing  to  his  jokes.  His  friend  Simpson,  in  allusion, 
no  doubt,  to  the  jelly-like  tremulousness  of  his  outward  man  when  in 
motion,  says  "  he  is  all  wag."  I  know  not  whether  he  who  contributes 
to  the  good  humour  of  his  fellow-men,  without  sacrificing  his  own,  is 
not  as  great  a  philanthropist  in  his  way  as  Howard  himself.  This  little 
world  is  but  a  large  theatre,  producing  more  successful  tragedies  than 
comedies :  what  there  is  of  humour  you  can  hardly  laugh  at,  and  what  is 
serious  in  its  scenes  somehow  contracts  the  heart  and  darkens  the  coun- 
tenance. He,  then,  who  can  dilate  the  one  with  laughter,  and  brighten 
the  other  with  smiles,  is  a  friend  before  all  friends,  and  a  philosopher 
before  all  philosophers. 

Mr.  Smith  is  very  deservedly  the  delight  of  a  pretty  wide  circle  of 
admirers,  and  keeps  all  in  good  humour  about  him.  Where  he  enters, 
let  the  company  be  never  so  grave,  a  preparatory  smile  spreads  round 
the  room ;  every  ear,  to  use  a  Lord  Castlereagh  figure  of  speech,  stands 
on  the  tiptoe  of  expectation ;  and  his  first  remark,  though  it  be  but 
"  How  do  you  do,  Jones  ?"  or,  "  Hah !  Simpson,  glad  to  see  you  !"  is 
received  with  roars  of  laughter.  When  he  hangs  his  hat  up,  something 
more  than  putting  his  beaver  by  is  perceived  in  the  action  :  his  umbrella 
is  equally  unctuous  and  irresistible ;  and  his  introductory  "  hem !"  to 
clear  his  throat  for  conversation,  is  listened  to  with  most  deferential 
silence.  All  eyes  follow  his  hand  when  it  moves  toward  the  candle 
with  a  cigar ;  and  even  the  first  fumes  of  the  fragrant  weed  are  watched 
like  the  smoke  of  the  old  sacrificial  altars,  as  if  something  divine  and 
oracular  breathed  with  every  whiff.  Silence  sits  pleased  j  mouths,  city 
mouths  !  gape  wide  with  a  sort  of  greedy  avidity  to  swallow,  at  a  gulp, 
any  mental  morsel  he  may,  in  his  condescension,  throw  down  for  the 
entertainment  of  his  friends.  If  strangers  are  present,  elbows  on  either 
side  nudge  the  unconscious  Perkinses  into  a  proper  attitude  of  atten- 
tion: if  they  have  never  before  heard  of  Mr.  Smith,  much  wonder 


1830.]  Singular  Smith.  173 

seems  to  sit  on  the  uplifted  eyebrows  of  those  who  know  him  well ;  and 
a  due  degree  of  information  as  to  his  attributes  is  instilled  in  a  whisper. 
You  need  not  use  a  battering-ram  to  beat  into  the  head  of  A.  that  B.  is 
a  man  of  extraordinary  genius :  tell  him  that  he  is  so,  and  he  believes 
you,  because  you  save  him  the  trouble  of  thinking  for  himself,  an  act  of 
ratiocination  which  most  men  prefer  to  have  performed  for  them  by 
deputy:  one  half  the  world,  indeed,  takes  its  opinion  of  the  other  half 
on  trust,  and  a  very  wise  reliance  it  is. 

Mr.  Smith  deserves  all  the  consideration  he  meets  with.  I  myself 
have  listened  to  him  with  much  pleasure,  particularly  on  one  occasion, 
when  he  most  ingeniously  proved  that  rats  were  a  dainty  fit  for  a 
duchess  : — "  Ratisbon  :  Ion,  in  French,  is  good,  in  English  ;  rat  is  bon  ; 
rat  is  good  ;  the  diet  of  Ratisbon ;  the  diet  of  rat  is  good :  ergo,  the  rat 
is  proper  for  the  sustenance  of  man."  Mr.  S.  was  so  "  cheered"  as  to 
convince  me  that  it  is  not  impossible  for  a  man  to  be  acknowledged  a 
prophet  in  his  own  country.  The  gist  of  Mr.  Smith's  jests  is  more  per- 
haps in  the  manner  than  the  matter — like  the  House  of  Commons'  facetia, 
which  are  reported  to  create  roars  of  laughter,  but  at  which  I  could  never 
laugh,  and  I  have  tried  very  hard.  The  other  day,  his  "  fidus  Achates," 
Simpson,  fell  overboard  from  a  Margate  hoy :  when  he  was  recovered 
by  a"  thrown-out  line,  and  hauled  on  board,  Smith,  placing  his  hands  on 
his  knees,  and  stooping  down  so  as  almost  to  meet  the  face  of  his  half- 
drowned  friend,  asked  him,  with  a  look  full  of  humourous  inquisitive- 
ness,  "  Wet  or  dry,  Simpson  ?"  This  question,  put  in  his  own  whim- 
sical way,  convulsed  his  auditors,  poor  saturated  Simpson  included,  who 
laughed,  however,  somewhat  after  the  manner  of  a  squib  let  off  in  a 
damp  state  on  a  rainy  fifth  of  November. 

This  brief  memoir  of  Mr.  John  Smith,  and  mention  of  his  pursuits, 
will  serve  to  illustrate  the  versatility  of  his  genius  and  the  vastness  of 
his  acquirements.  And  now  I  leave  the  reader  to  ask  "  Who  is  this 
Smith  r 


CONSTANT'S  MEMOIRS  OF  BUONAPARTE.* 

IF  the  statesman,  the  warrior,  and  the  historian  feel  a  higher  interest 
in  the  perusal  of  pages  devoted  to  the  record  of  revolutionary  commo- 
tions, sanguinary  and  ambitious  warfare,  and  acts  which  posterity  will 
by  turns  admire  and  execrate,  a  class  of  readers,  far  more  numerous  at 
the  present  day,  will  dwell  with  preference  on  the  lighter  episodes 
which  unfold  the  domestic  privacy  of  the  mighty  ones  of  the  earth,  and 
reduce  the  demigods  of  a  stupified  people  to  the  proportions  of  mere 
mortality.  The  biographers  whom  an  accidental  and  favourable  posi- 
tion has  enabled  more  closely  to  behold  the  idols  of  popular  worship, 
may  be  compared  to  the  high  priests  of  the  pagan  divinities,  who, 
admitted  to  the  inmost  sanctuary,  enjoyed  the  exclusive  privilege  of 
recognizing  the  artifices  by  which  the  credulity  of  the  mob  was  abused. 
There,  however,  the  similitude  ends  j  the  latter,  from  motives  of  vile 
calculation,  perpetuating  the  holy  fraud,  while  the  revelations  of  the 
former  contribute  to  overthrow  both  the  altar  and  the  god.  The  intro- 
ductory pages  of  Constant  promise  a  rich  treat  to  such  as  delight  to 

*  Me'moires  de  Constant,  Premier  Valet  de  Chambre  de  Napoleon,  sur  sa  Vie  Privee, 
sa  Famille,  et  sa  Cour.  Vols.  lr.  2me.  3me.  et  4me.  8vo.  Paris,  1830. 


174  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  £AuG. 

contemplate  a  self-raised  sovereign  in  the  retirement  of  private  life ; — to 
view  the  points  of  resemblance  which  a  hero  bears  to  his  fellow-men  ; 
whether  the  performance  has  realized  the  promise.,  remains  to  be  seen. 
The  author  must  undoubtedly  be  ranked  amongst  those  who,  by  a  rare 
and  fortuitous  concurrence  of  circumstances,  enjoyed  the  advantage  of 
observing  the  man  amidst  the  gaudy  splendours  which  surrounded  the 
monarch  :  consequently,  his  pages,  if  purified  from  the  taint  of  fulsome 
panegyric,  and  the  enthusiasm  of  blind  admiration,  might  aid  in  dis- 
pelling the  illusions  of  the  present,  and  in  rectifying  the  judgments  of 
the  future.  In  the  cabinet,  we  behold  the  statesman  decked  in  his  robe 
of  office, — in  the  field  of  battle,  the  warrior  in  plume  and  casque; 
but  in  the  privacy  of  the  bed-chamber,  the  man,  how  exalted  soever  by 
place  or  chivalrous  deeds  of  glory,  appears  to  his  valet  in  complete 
deshabille.  The  Memoirs  of  Constant  are  professedly  a  sketch  of  Napo- 
leon's domestic  habits ;  of  Napoleon  laying  aside  the  warrior's  sword, 
the  consular  purple,  the  diadem  of  empire ;  of  Napoleon  unambitious  of 
power,  and  forgetful  of  a  world  whose  fate  seemed  to  hang  upon  his 
dreams  of  conquest.  That  Constant  was  favoured  with  peculiar  faci- 
lities for  the  execution  of  his  self-imposed  task,  we  do  not  deny:  we 
will  even  give  him  credit,  to  a  certain  extent,  for  honesty  of  purpose, 
and  for  a  strict  determination  to  overstep  not  the  historian's  fidelity  ;  and 
when  we  consider  the  mode  in  which  books  are  now-a-days  manufac- 
tured, the  admission  on  our  part  is  ample.  Notwithstanding  this  con- 
cession, a  feeling  of  gratitude,  commendable  in  itself,  but  fatal  to  the 
confidence  which  he  seeks  to  inspire,  renders  the  author,  in  our  judg- 
ment, incapable  of  writing  an  accurate  and  impartial  memoir  of  Napo- 
leon, to  whose  bounty  he  was  indebted  for  the  comforts  of  his  existence, 
and  for  whose  memory  he  professes  a  respect  little  short  of  adoration. 
In  proof  of  our  assertion,  we  need  only  remark,  that  we  cannot  recollect 
a  single  passage  in  censure  of  Napoleon,  though  many  of  his  actions  are 
cited,  which,  if  attributed  to  a  mere  ordinary  potentate,  would  no  doubt 
have  excited  the  honest  valet-de-chambre's  unsparing  indignation.  All 
is  panegyric.  Constant  admits  that  Napoleon  shared  the  physical  wants 
and  infirmities  of  his  species,  but  he  seems  to  deny  him  the  slightest 
participation  in  their  moral  defects ;  or,  at  the  worst, 

"  E'en  his  failings  leaned  to  virtue's  side." 

The  author  should  recollect  that,  in  modelling  a  hero,  the  skilful  statuary 
rejects  the  unwieldy  dimensions  of  a  colossus,  as  well  as  the  diminutive 
proportions  of  a  dwarf,  and  fashions  his  work  after  the  just  and  harmo- 
nious symmetry  of  natural  life. 

The  publisher  of  Constant's  Memoirs  insists  strongly  upon  their 
authenticity.  On  this  point  we  ourselves  entertain  not  the  slightest 
doubt :  the  work  is  evidently  written  by  a  valet- de-chambre ;  its  slip- 
slop style,  and,  in  many  instances,  its  triviality  of  detail,  are  precisely 
such  as  might  be  expected  from  an  aspiring  knight  of  the  shoulder-knot, 
ambitious  of  literary  fame.  In  addition  to  the  style,  which,  as  Buffon 
says,  is  the  man,  these  memoirs  are  marked  by  other  distinguishing 
characteristics,  that  sufficiently  prove  their  origin.  M.  Constant  pro- 
fesses unbounded  veneration  for  the  infallibility  of  the  great :  he  views 
their  actions  through  a  most  convenient  prism,  transforming  their  vices 
into  virtues,  and  magnifying  their  virtues  into  the  perfection  of  super- 
human excellence.  Albeit  that  his  modesty  would  fain  eclipse  the 


1830.]  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  175 

lustre  of  his  qualities,  he  seems  to  have  been  a  most  useful  appendage  to 
his  imperial  master.  Napoleon  was  not  remarkable  for  his  attention  to 
the  softer  sex, — a  sufficient  proof,  were  any  wanting,  that  he  was  not  a 
legitimate  sovereign ;  but,  to  save  appearances,  we  presume,  he  occa- 
sionally indulged  in  flirtation,  and  now  and  then,  an  amourette.  At  such 
moments,  our  biographer  acquitted  himself,  with  infinite  grace,  of  cer- 
tain services  to  which  we  shall  not  at  present  more  particularly  allude. 
The  respectful  gravity,  however,  with  which  the  valet-de-chambre  ven- 
tures on  the  subject  of  the  Lavallieres  and  Montespans  of  the  imperial 
regime,  reminds  us  of  the  French  fable,  in  which  the  fox  courteously 
observes  to  the  lion, — 

"  Vous  leur  fites,  seigneur, 
En  les  croquant,  beaucoup  d'honneur." 

Notwithstanding  these  and  many  other  traces  of  the  valet-de-chambre, 
the  Memoirs  of  Constant  contain  some  information.  The  reader  who 
can  reconcile  himself  to  the  author's  fawning  subserviency  for  the  great, 
and  wade  through  some  scores  of  pages  filled  with  details  on  the  impor- 
tant subject  of  the  valet-de-chambre's  family  affairs,  may  occasionally 
discover  an  interesting  fragment,  thrust,  as  it  were,  into  most  uncouth 
fellowship,  and  apparently  amazed  at  the  singularity  of  the  association. 

We  select  a  few  passages.  Our  first  extract  relates  to  the  early  career 
of  the  Viceroy  of  Italy : — 

"  On  the  16th  of  October  1799,  Eugene  de  Beauharnais  returned  to  Paris 
from  the  expedition  of  Egypt.  At  that  epoch  he  was  scarcely  twenty-one 
years  of  age,  and  I  was  then  made  acquainted  with  certain  particulars  of  his 
life,  not  generally  known,  and  which  had  occurred  prior  to  his  mother's 
marriage  with  Buonaparte.  The  circumstances  attending  his  father's  death 
are  but  too  notorious.  The  Marquis  de  Beauharnais  having  perished  on  the 
revolutionary  scaffold,  his  widow,  whose  property  had  been  confiscated, 
found  herself  on  the  verge  of  total  destitution,  and  fearing  that  her  son, 
though  scarcely  emerged  from  childhood,  might  be  persecuted  on  account 
of  his  noble  origin,  she  apprenticed  him  to  a  carpenter  in  the  Rue  de  1'Echelle. 
A  lady  of  my  acquaintance,  who  lived  in  that  street,  has  frequently  seen  him 
passing  and  repassing,  with  a  plank  on  his  shoulders.  An  individual  in 
Eugene's  then  humble  condition,  was  apparently  at  an  immense  distance  from 
the  command  of  a  regiment  of  the  Consular  guard,  arid  still  further  removed  from 
the  viceroyalty  of  Italy.  I  heard  from  his  own  lips  an  account  of  the  singular 
circumstance  which  led  to  the  first  interview  between  his  mother  and  father- 
in-law.  Eugene,  who  was  then  but  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  old,  having  been 
informed  that  the  sword  of  the  late  ill-fated  Marquis  de  Beauharnais  had 
fallen  into  Buonaparte's  possession,  boldly  hazarded  a  step  which  was 
crowned  with  complete  success.  He  introduced  himself  to  the  general,  who 
received  him  politely,  and  coming  at  once  to  the  point,  young  Beauharnais 
requested  that  his  father's  sword  might  be  restored  to  him.  His  countenance, 
the  frankness  of  his  bearing,  and  his  whole  appearance,  made  an  irresistible 
impression  upon  Buonaparte,  who  immediately  complied  with  his  demand. 
No  sooner  had  Eugene  been  put  in  possession  of  the  long  lost  sword,  than  he 
shed  a  torrent  of  tears,  and  covered  'it  with  kisses.  Buonaparte  could  not 
avoid  being  singularly  struck  with  his  unaffected  emotion.  Madame  de 
Beauharnais,  on  being  acquainted  with  the  reception  her  son  had  met  with 
from  the  General,  considered  it  her  duty  to  return  the  favour  by  a  com- 
plimentary visit  of  thanks.  At  the  very  first  interview,  Buonaparte  was 
captivated  with  Josephine,  and  lost  no  time  in  returning  her  visit.  The 
parties  were  mutually  pleased  with  each  other's  society,  and  the  march  of 
events  which  subsequently  placed  Josephine  on  the  throne  of  France,  is 


1 76  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  []AuG. 

sufficiently  known  to  the  reader.  As  to  Eugene,  I  have  had  convincing 
proofs  that  Buonaparte  never  ceased  to  regard  him  with  the  tenderness  of  a 
father." 

Napoleon,  who  had  been  elevated  to  the  throne  principally  by  the 
devotion  of  his  army,  felt  the  necessity  of  encouraging  amongst  their 
ranks  a  spirit  of  enthusiastic  attachment  to  his  person.  It  was  his  policy 
to  conciliate  the  affections,  not  only  of  his  officers,  but  even  of  the  hum- 
blest of  his  soldiers,  by  well-timed  acts  of  indulgence,  and  by  expressions 
of  approbation  often  amounting  to  a  degree  of  familiarity  which  will 
doubtless  astonish  the  Lord  Johns  and  Thomases  composing  the  elite  of 
our  British  disciplinarians.  We  quote  an  instance  : — 

"  This  mention  of  the  kind  feeling  entertained  by  the  first  consul  towards 
the  humblest  soldiers  in  the  ranks,  reminds  me  of  the  following  occurrence 
which  took  place  at  Malmaison.  Early  one  morning  Buonaparte  strolled 
from  the  chateau  in  the  direction  of  Marly.  He  was  dressed,  as  usual,  in  a 
grey  riding-coat,  and  accompanied  by  General  Duroc.  As  they  walked  and 
chatted  together,  they  observed  a  labouring  man  guiding  his  plough  as  he 
approached  them.  '  Hark  you,  good  man/  said  the  first  consul,  suddenly 
stopping,  (  your  plough  is  not  straight ;  you  seem  to  be  ignorant  of  your 
trade/—'  It  would  puzzle  you  to  teach  it  me,'  said  the  countryman,  eying 
the  well-dressed  strangers  from  head  to  foot.  '  Not  in  the  least/ — '  Aye,  aye, 
well,  try/  replied  Hodge,  giving  his  place  to  the  first  consul,  who,  seizing 
the  handle  of  the  plough,  and  driving  on  the  horses,  commenced  his  lesson. 
So  awkward,  however,  was  the  experimental  agriculturist,  that  the  furrow 
soon  swerved  most  unconscionably  from  a  right  line.  '  Come,  come/  said 
the  peasant,  roughly  seizing  the  first  consul  by  the  arm,  and  resuming  his 
place,  '  your  work  is  not  worth  a  button :  every  man  his  trade ;  stick  to 
yours/  Buonaparte  continued  his  walk,  having  first  remunerated  the  peasant 
for  his  moral  lesson  by  putting  two  or  three  louis  into  his  hand,  as  a  com- 
pensation for  the  loss  of  his  time.  The  labourer,  astonished  at  the  amount 
of  the  donation,  hastily  quitted  his  plough,  and  related  his  adventure  to 
a  farmer's  wife  whom  he  met  on  his  road.  The  latter  having  obtained  a 
description  of  the  stranger's  costume,  guessed  that  the  generous  donor  was 
the  first  consul,  and  communicated  her  discovery  to  her  simple  companion. 
The  honest  rustic  was  at  first  stupified  with  amazement;  but  the  next 
morning,  arming  himself  with  resolution,  and  attired  in  his  best,  he  made 
his  appearance  at  Malmaison,  and  demanded  to  speak  with  Napoleon,  to 
thank  him,  as  he  said,  for  his  handsome  present. 

"  On  my  acquainting  the  first  consul  with  the  arrival  of  his  visitor,  he 
ordered  him  to  be  immediately  introduced  to  his  presence.  While  I  went 
forward  to  announce  him,  the  peasant,  to  use  his  own  expression,  had  taken 
his  courage  in  both  hands,  to  prepare  himself  for  the  important  interview. 
On  my  return,  I  found  him  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  anti-chamber,  (he 
had  not  dared  to  sit  upon  the  benches,  which,  though  of  the  most  ordinary 
description,  were  in  his  eyes  magnificent,)  and  cogitating  in  what  form  of 
words  he  might  best  express  his  gratitude  to  the  first  consul.  As  I  led  the 
way,  he  followed  me  on  tiptoe  with  the  utmost  precaution,  and  with  a  look 
of  anxiety  directed  every  now  and  then  towards  the  carpet :  and  when  I  at 
length  opened  the  door  of  the  cabinet,  he  requested  me,  with  a  profusion  of 
bows  and  scrapes,  to  go  in  first.  When  Buonaparte  had  no  particular  reason 
for  secresy,  he  seldom  closed  the  door  of  his  private  cabinet.  On  this 
occasion,  he  made  me  a  sign  to  leave  it  open,  so  that  I  could  distinctly  see 
and  hear  every  thing  that  took  place. 

"  On  his  entrance,  the  peasant  began  by  making  a  profound  obeisance  to 
M.  de  Bourrienne,  who,  seated  at  a  writing-table  placed  in  the  recess  of  one 
of  the  windows,  had  his  back  turned  towards  the  door.  The  courtesy,  there- 
fore, was  unfortunately  thrown  away.  The  first  consul,  leaning  backwards 


1830.]  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  177 

in  his  easy  chair,  and  operating,  according  to  his  old  custom,  on  one  of  the 
arms  with  his  penknife,  for  some  minutes  observed  his  awkward  guest  in 
silence.  At  length,  however,  he  opened  the  following  dialogue. 

" '  Well,  my  fine  fellow/  (the  peasant,  recognizing  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
turned  round,  and  made  another  scrape:)  f  well/  pursued  the  first  consul, 
'  has  the  harvest  been  good  this  year?' — (  Why,  saving  your  presence, 
Citizen  General,  not  bad.' 

"  '  The  earth  to  be  productive,  must  be  well  ploughed,  eh?'  demanded  the 
first  consul :  '  Your  fine  gentlemen  are  not  fit  for  that  work  ?' — '  Why, 
without  offence,  General,  it  requires  a  good  iron  fist  to  hold  a  plough.' 

"  '  True,'  replied  Buonaparte  with  a  smile ;  '  but  a  hale  hearty  fellow,  like 
you,  must  in  his  day  have  handled  something  better  than  a  plough.  Methinks 
you  could  do  justice  to  a  firelock  or  a  broadsword.' 

ef  The  peasant,  upon  this,  stood  square  to  his  front,  and  held  up  his  head 
with  a  martial  air.  '  General/  said  he,  '  I  have  done  like  the  rest.  I  had 
been  married  five  or  six  years,  when  the  beggarly  Prussians,  saving  your 
presence,  General,  cut  us  out  work.  Then  came  the  conscription.  A  musquet 
was  placed  in  my  hand,  and  a  knapsack  on  my  back :  march,  was  the  word. 
Ah  !  we  were  not  equipped  like  those  strapping  lads  I  saw  in  the  court-yard.' 

"  f  Why  did  you  quit  the  service  ?'  asked  the  first  consul,  who  seemed  to 
take  considerable  interest  in  the  conversation. — '  General,  every  one  his  turn: 
it  rained  sabre-cuts,  and  I  had  my  share ;'  (here  the  peasant  stooped,  and 
separating  his  hair,  displayed  a  large  scar  on  his  head ;)  '  after  a  few  weeks 
at  the  hospital,  I  was  discharged,  and  returned  to  my  wife  and  my  plough.' 

"  '  Have  you  any  children  ?' — (  Three,  General ;  two  boys,  and  a  girl. 

"  (  You  must  make  a  soldier  of  your  eldest  boy ;  if  he  behaves  well,  I'll 
take  care  of  him.  Adieu,  my  brave  fellow ;  when  you  want  me,  come  and 
see  me  again.'  The  first  consul  then  demanded  some  louis  from  M.  de 
Bourrienne,  and  gave  them  to  the  peasant,  of  whom  I  was  desired  to  take 
charge.  We  had  scarcely  reached  the  anti-chamber,  when  the  visitor  was 
called  back. 

"  '  Were  you  at  Fleurus  ?'  said  Napoleon. — '  Yes,  General.' 

"  '  Can  you  tell  me  the  name  of  your  general-in-chief  ?' — '  To  be  sure  I 
can ;  General  Jourdan/ 

"  '  Right — good  by ;'  and  I  was  forthwith  followed  by  the  veteran  soldier 
of  the  republic,  overjoyed  at  his  reception." 

In  the  following,  we  have  an  instance  of  a  gratifying  compliment  paid 
by  Napoleon,  at  the  expense  of  his  brother  Jerome,  to  an  officer  distin- 
guished solely  by  his  gallantry  and  services  : — 

"  I  may  here  be  permitted  to  mention  a  circumstance  in  proof  of  the  esti- 
mation in  which  the  first  consul  held  the  officers  and  soldiers  of  his  army,  and 
which  he  manifested  towards  them  on  all  occasions.  I  was  one  morning  in 
Napoleon's  bed-chamber,  at  the  hour  usually  devoted  to  his  toilette.  Besides 
those  in  attendance,  there  was  no  one  in  the  apartment  except  the  brave  and 
modest  Colonel  Gerard  Lacuee,  one  of  the  first  consul's  aides-de-camp.  M. 
Jerome  Buonaparte,  who  had  then  scarcely  attained  his  seventeenth  year,  and 
whose  irregularities  had  already  afforded  frequent  subjects  of  complaint  to  his 
family,  was  shortly  afterwards  introduced.  His  brother  Napoleon,  who  was 
in  the  habit  of  reprimanding  and  lecturing  him,  as  a  father  might  his  son,  was 
the  only  person  of  whom  Jerome  seemed  to  stand  in  awe.  The  first  consul 
was  anxious  that  his  brother  should  enter  the  navy,  not  so  much  from  a  wish 
that  he  should  adopt  that  profession,  as  that  he  might  be  withdrawn  from  the 
temptations  to  which  the  rising  fortunes  of  his  family  continually  exposed  so 
young  a  man,  and  which  Jerome  was  far  from  even  desiring  to  withstand. 
The  latter' s  chagrin  was  excessive :  he  accordingly  seized  every  opportunity 
of  declaring  his  unfitness  for  the  naval  service  :  it  is  even  said  that  at  an  exa- 
mination by  the  inspectors,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  refused  as  not  qualified, 
though  with  the  slightest  application  on  his  part  he  might  have  easily  passed. 
M.M.  New  Series—  VOL.  X.  No. 56.  Z 


178  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  QAuo. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  manoeuvres,  Jerome  found  it  impossible  to  evade 
the  will  and  pleasure  of  the  first  consul,  and  was  reluctantly  compelled  to 
embark.  On  the  morning  to  which  I  have  already  alluded,  after  some  conver- 
sation and  remonstrance,  as  usual  on  the  subject  of  the  navy,  Jerome  at 
length  observed  to  his  brother : — '  Instead  of  sending  me  to  sea,  where  I  shall 
infallibly  die  of  the  horrors,  you  ought  to  make  me  one  of  your  aides-de-camp  ?' 
— '  You  !  Blanc-bee !'  replied  the  first  consul,  sharply  ;  f  wait  till  a  few 
bullets  have  furrowed  your  beardless  face,  and  then  we  shall  see  ;'  at  the  same 
time  pointing  to  Colonel  Lacuee,  who  blushed  crimson  deep,  and  hung  down 
his  head.  That  the  reader  may  duly  appreciate  the  force  of  the  compliment 
conveyed  to  the  gallant  aide-de-camp  in  the  first  consul's  answer,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  observe  that  the  colonel's  face  was  marked  with  a  deep  scar.  The  loss 
of  this  brave  officer,  who  was  killed  in  1805,  was  long  and  severely  felt  by 
Napoleon." 

We  have  an  account  of  a  tolerably  ludicrous  interview  between  the 
conqueror  of  Italy  and  his  quondam  writing-master,  shortly  after  the 
former's  return  from  Lyons,  whither  he  had  proceeded  to  meet  the  depu- 
ties of  the  Cisalpine  Republic,  assembled  for  the  election  of  a  presi- 
dent:— 

"  Soon  after  the  first  consul's  return  to  Malmaison,  an  individual  in  most 
unpretending  attire  solicited  a  private  audience.  He  was  instantly  ushered 
into  the  cabinet  of  Napoleon,  who  demanded  his  name.  '  General/  replied 
the  solicitor,  somewhat  intimidated  by  his  presence,  f  I  had  formerly  the 
honor  of  giving  you  lessons  in  writing  at  the  college  of  Brienne.' — '  And  a 
respectable  penman  you  have  made  of  me/  exclaimed  the  first  consul,  inter- 
rupting him  sharply ; — '  your  pupil's  progress  does  you  infinite  credit !'  Then 
laughing  at  his  own  hastiness,  he  addressed  the  good  man  in  a  kinder  tone,  to 
make  amends  for  his  first  sally,  the  abruptness  of  which  had  considerably 
augmented  the  timidity  of  the  calligraphic  professor.  In  a  few  days  the 
writing-master  received  from  unquestionably  the  worst  of  all  his  former  pupils 
at  Brienne,  (Napoleon's  scarcely  legible  hand  writing  was  proverbial,)  a  pen- 
sion sufficient  for  his  humble  wants."  , 

Buonaparte's  notions  on  the  subject  of  religion  are  generally  known  ; 
he  considered  it  merely  as  an  engine  of  government,  and,  if  Constant's 
as  well  as  Bourrienne's  statements  be  correct,  made  little  scruple  of 
proclaiming  his  opinion.  For  true  religion  and  unaffeected  piety,  we 
profess  the  most  unfeigned  respect ;  but  we  confess  we  infinitely  prefer 
the  ex-emperor's  candid  exposition  of  his  religious,  or,  if  it  so  please  the 
reader,  irreligious  creed,  to  the  odious  hypocritical  cant  with  which  the 
saints — we  mean  the  saints  terrestrial — so  ingeniously  and  so  conveniently 
conciliate  the  service  of  "  God  and  Mammon."  Every  friend  to  order 
must  admit  that  Buonaparte  essentially  promoted  the  interests  of  true 
religion  by  opposing  his  inflexible  authority  to  the  desolating  atheistical 
principles  of  the  Revolution,  and  by  re-establishing  the  ancient  calendar, 
and  the  ancient  form  of  divine  worship.  Constant's  statement  on  this 
point  differs  not  a  jot  in  substance  from  that  of  M.  Bourrienne,  whom, 
by  the  way,  the  valet- de-chambre  takes  every  opportunity  of  palavering 
in  most  antichamber-like  phrase : — 

"  On  the  day  of  the  proclamation  issued  by  the  first  consul  with  regard  to 
the  law  on  divine  worship,  he  rose  early,  and  during  the  operation  of  his 
toilette,  Joseph  Buonaparte,  and  the  second  consul,  Cambaceres,  entered  his 
chamber.  '  Well,'  observed  the  first  consul  to  his  colleague,  '  we  are  going 
to  witness  the  celebration  of  mass;  what  do  the  good  Parisians  think  on  that 
subject?' 


1830.]  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  179 

"  '  Many  of  them/  replied  Cambaceres,  '  intend  to  be  present  at  the  first 
representation  of  the  new  piece,  and  to  hiss  it  most  unmercifully  should  it 
fail  to  amuse  them/  " 

"  '  Should  any  citizen  act  so  indecorously,  he  shall  on  the  instant  be  shewn 
to  the  other  side  of  the  door  by  the  grenadiers  of  my  consular  guard.' 

"  '  But  suppose  the  grenadiers  hiss  too  ?' 

"  '  I  am  not  afraid  of  that :  my  brave  lads  will  march  to  Notre  Dame  in  the 
same  spirit  as  at  Cairo  they  went  to  the  mosque.  They  will  watch  my  coun- 
tenance, and  observing  the  decent  gravity  of  their  general,  they  will  take  their 
cue  from  me  with  '  Comrades,  eyes  right !' 

f(  '  I  fear,'  observed  Joseph,  '  that  the  general  officers  will  be  less  accom- 
modating. I  have  just  quitted  Augereau,  who  is  furious  against  what  he  calls 
your  capucin  gambadoes.  It  will  be  no  easy  task  to  entice  him,  and  some 
others  that  I  could  name,  to  the  bosom  of  holy  mother  church.' 

<f  (  Pshaw  !  that's  Augereau's  way.  He  is  a  loud-tongued,  empty  babbler, 
who,  if  he  had  some  twentieth  country  cousin  to  provide  for,  would  send  him 
to-morrow  to  a  monastery,  that  I  might  afterwards  appoint  him  my  chaplain. 
By  the  way,'  said  the  first  consul,  turning  to  his  colleague,  f  when  does  your 
brother  take  possession  of  his  see  of  Rouen  ?  Do  you  know  that  he  has  the 
finest  archbishopric  in  all  France  ?  He  will  be  cardinal  before  the  expiration  of 
a  twelvemonth.  The  matter  is  already  arranged.'  Cambaceres  answered 
with  a  respectful  inclination  of  the  head,  and  from  that  moment,  his  demeanour 
in  regard  to  the  first  consul  resembled  the  fawning  assiduity  of  a  courtier, 
rather  than  the  frank  independence  of  a  coadjutor  in  office. 

"  The  first  renewed  celebration  of  divine  worship  at  Notre  Dame  afforded 
a  singular  exhibition.  The  church  was  crowded  with  spectators,  frivolously 
assembled,  as  for  a  theatrical  representation  :  the  military  in  particular  seemed 
to  consider  the  service  in  the  light  of  a  burlesque  mummery,  not  of  a  religious 
solemnity.  They  who  during  the  revolution  had  contributed  to  the  overthrow 
of  the  rites  now  re-established  by  the  first  consul,  could  with  difficulty  conceal 
their  indignation  and  chagrin.  In  the  solemn  chaunt  of  the  Te  Dcum,  the  lower 
orders  of  the  people  could  discern  merely  an  additional  aliment  offered  for 
the  gratification  of  their  idle  curiosity.  The  middle  classes,  however,  con- 
tained a  number  of  pious  individuals,  who,  having  deeply  regretted  the  sup- 
pression of  the  devotional  practices  in  the  observance  of  which  they  had  been 
educated,  were  overjoyed  at  the  unexpected  restoration  of  ancient  customs. 
Besides,  the  return  to  a  better  order  of  things  had  been  effected  without  the 
slightest  manifestation  of  superstition  or  of  rigour,  calculated  to  alarm  even  the 
most  uncompromising  advocates  of  toleration.  The  clergy  were  moderate  in 
their  demands,  anathematized  none,  and  the  representative  of  the  holy  father, 
the  cardinal  legate,  was  universally  beloved,  except  by  a  few  bigoted  old 
priests,  for  the  liberality  of  his  opinions,  the  suavity  of  his  manners,  and  his 
sterling  good  sense.  The  first  consul  was  ever  on  excellent  terms  with  this 
prelate,  who  had  completely  captivated  him  by  the  charms  of  his  conver- 
sation. 

ff  Independently  of  religious  considerations,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the 
populace  welcomed  with  joy  the  repose  and  the  solemnity  of  the  long-forgotten 
sabbath  day.  The  divisions  of  the  republican  calendar  had  been  arranged 
with  more  theoretical  skill,  than  attention  to  the  comforts  of  the  people,  and 
at  the  epoch  of  its  first  introduction,  I  well  recollect  the  expression  of  a  cele- 
brated wit;  '  these  innovators,'  said  he,  '  have  to  deal  with  a  couple  of  ene- 
mies that  will  never  yield  an  inch  of  ground, — beard,  and  clean  shirt ;' — in 
allusion  to  the  discontent  of  the  lower  orders,  who,  as  the  interval  from  one 
decadi  to  another  was  rather  long,  were  thus  curtailed  of  the  customary  exhi- 
bition of  their  Sunday  finery,  and  holiday  persons,  f  neat,  trimly  dress'd.' 

We  select  some  passages  from  the  lengthy  details  on  the  subject  of 
Napoleon's  personal  appearance  and  private  habits.  Our  readers  will 
readily  excuse  the  omission  of  certain  particulars  which  to  the  valet-de- 

Z  2 


180  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  [Aua. 

chambre,  however,  appear  of  the  highest  importance,  if  we  may  judge 
by  the  minuteness  with  which  they  have  been  enumerated.  We  must 
pass  over  in  absolute  silence  a  list  of  the  consular  and  imperial  tooth- 
brushes, sponges,  &c.,  merely  remarking,  en  passant,  that  the  ex-emperor 
made  a  liberal  use  of  Eau  de  Cologne.  The  latter  observation  we  are 
induced  to  offer  for  the  benefit  of  the  crack  commanders,  to  whom  we 
have  already,  in  the  course  of  this  article,  taken  the  liberty  to  allude, 
and  who  will  doubtless  feel  no  less  gratified  than  amazed  at  the  point  of 
resemblance  which  we  are  the  first  to  discover  and  publish  in  their 
favour  :— 

"  On  his  return  from  Egypt,  Napoleon  was  thin ;  his  complexion  of  a 
yellow  copperish  tinge,  and  his  eyes  sunken;  his  person  was  well  formed.  A 
portrait  of  the  first  consul,  by  Horace  Vernet,  in  his  celebrated  picture  of  a 
review  on  the  place  du  Carrousel,  bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  Napoleon,  as 
he  then  was.  His  forehead  was  high  and  open,  his  hair  of  a  chesnut  colour, 
and  very  thin,  especially  on  the  temples,  but  soft  and  silky.  His  eyes  were 
blue,  and  at  times  depicted  with  unerring  fidelity,  the  emotions  of  his  soul. 
His  mouth  was  handsome,  but  when  under  the  influence  of  ill  humour,  he  had 
a  habit  of  contracting  his  lips  together.  Plis  teeth,  though  not  even,  were 
extremely  white.  Plis  nose  wao  of  a  perfect  Grecian  form,  and  his  sense  of 
smelling  excessively  quick.  Notwithstanding  that  the  tout  ensemble  of  his 
countenance  was  handsome,  the  lankness  of  his  features  destroyed  the  effect 
that  might  otherwise  have  been  produced  by  their  regularity.  His  head  was 
large,  being  twenty-two  inches  in  circumference,  and  being  rather  lengthy, 
was  consequently  fiat  near  the  temples.  His  height  was  five  feet,  two  inches, 
and  three  lines. 

ff  During  his  moments,  or  rather  his  hours  of  business  and  study,  the  empe- 
ror was  subject  to  a  lie,  which  resembled  a  nervous  affection,  and  from  which 
he  was  never  \.  holly  free.  This  singular  infirmity  frequently  occasioned  him 
to  raise  his  right  shoulder  involuntarily  and  with  rapidity, — a  gesture  which 
those  unacquainted  with  liis  habits  construed  into  an  expression  of  dissatisfac- 
tion. It  may  be  mentioned  as  another  peculiarity,  that  the  emperor  never  felt 
the  pulsation  of  Iiis  heart.  He  himself  often  made  the  remark  to  M.  Corvisart, 
as  well  as  to  me,  and  more  than  once  desired  us  to  place  our  hands  on  his 
bosom,  in  order  to  convince  ourselves  of  the  fact.  We  did  so,  and  I  am  thus 
enabled,  from  personal  knowledge  of  the  circumstance,  to  make  mention  of 
this  singular  exception  to  the  laws  of  nature. 

f  The  emperor  eat  with  extreme  rapidity,  remaining  scarcely  twelve 
minutes  at  table.  When  he  had  himself  dined,  it  was  his  custom  to  pass  into 
another  apartment.  Josephine,  however,  usually  remained,  and  desired  her 
guests  to  do  the  same.  One  day,  as  Prince  Eugene  quitted  the  dining-room, 
immediately  after  the  emperor,  the  latter,  turning  round,  accosted  him  with — 
f  Eugene,  you  have  eat  nothing.' — 'Excuse  me,  Sire/  answered  the  Prince, 
'  I  had  dined  before  I  sat  down  to  table.'  It  is  not  improbable  that  some  of 
the  guests,  finding  the  precaution  not  altogether  useless,  profited  by  the  hint 
on  subsequent  occasions. 

"  Napoleon  drank  no  other  wine  than  Chambertin,  and  generally  mixed 
with  water.  He  was  not  fond  of  wine,  of  which  he  was  but  an  indifferent 
judge.  I  recollect  that  when  the  troops  were  encamped  at  Boulogne,  he  one 
day  invited  a  number  of  general  officers  to  dinner.  The  emperor,  with  a  self- 
satisfied  air,  turning  to  Marshal  Augereau,  demanded  his  opinion  of  the  wine. 
The  marshal  tasted  it,  and  smacking  his  tongue  against  his  palate, — '  I  have 
drunk  better,'  said  the  blunt  veteran,  in  a  tone  more  adapted  for  camps  than 
courts.  The  emperor,  though  prepared  for  a  different  answer,  could  not  avoid 
a  hearty  laugh,  in  which  he  was  joined  by  his  guests. 

"  The  emperor  was  not  a  graceful  rider :  his  seat  on  horseback  was  by  no 
means  firm,  but  the  care  with  which  his  horses  were  broke  rendered  his  defi- 
ciency in  this  respect  of  less  consequence.  The  horses  destined  for  Napo- 


1830.]  Constant' s  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  181 

leon's  personal  use  were  forced  to  undergo  a  rough  noviciate  before  they  were 
suffered  to  enjoy  the  distinction  of  carrying  their  imperial  master.  They  were 
trained  to  remain  perfectly  steady  under  tortures  of  every  description;  to 
receive  blows  about  the  head ;  drums  were  beat,  pistols  and  crackers  fired 
in  their  ears ; — flags  were  waved  before  their  eyes ; — clumsy  packages, 
and  sometimes  even  sheep  and  pigs,  were  thrown  between  their  legs.  None 
of  the  animals  were  deemed  sufficiently  trained,  till  the  emperor  could,  with- 
out the  least  difficulty,  pull  them  up  short  at  full  gallop,  which  was  his  favo- 
rite pace. 

"  So  constant  was  Napoleon  to  his  old  habits,  that  the  shoemaker  who  fur- 
nished him  when  emperor  was  the  same  that  had  been  employed  by  him  when 
a  student  at  the  military  college  of  Brienne.  For  a  considerable  time  his 
boots  and  shoes  were  made  according  to  the  measure  originally  taken :  this 
being  at  last  found  too  small,  I  was  one  day  ordered  to  summon  the  worthy 
tradesman  to  take  fresh  measure  of  his  imperial  customer.  On  arriving  at 
his  shop,  I  found  that  Napoleon's  protege  had  been  dead  some  time,  and  that 
a  booby  of  a  son  had  succeeded  him  in  his  business.  The  son,  though  he  had 
worked  for  the  emperor,  had  never  seen  him,  and  was  thunderstruck  at  the 
summons  to  appear  before  his  majesty.  To  encourage  him,  I  gave  him  my 
advice  as  to  the  mode  in  which  he  was  to  present  himself;  the  costume  which 
he  was'  to  adopt,  and  other  equally  important  particulars.  At  length,  be- 
dizened in  a  full  suit  of  black,  sword,  hat,  &c.,  he  made  his  appearance  at  the 
Tuileries.  On  entering  the  emperor's  apartment,  he  made  a  low  bow,  and 
stopped  short  in  a  state  of  ludicrous  embarrassment.  '  What's  this  ?'  said 
the  emperor, — f  you  were  not  my  shoemaker  at  the  Military  College  ?' — •'  No, 
please  your  Majesty,  Emperor,  and  King ;  my  father  had  that  honor.' — '  And 
why  is  he  not  here  now  ?' — '  Sire,  Emperor,  and  King,  because  he  is  dead.' — 
'  How  much  do  you  charge  for  your  shoes?' — ( Please  your  Majesty,  Emperor, 
and  King,  your  Majesty  pays  eighteen  francs  a  pair.' — '  'Tis  rather  dear.' — 
'  Sire,  Emperor,  and  King,  your  Majesty,  if  you  please,  may  pay  them  even 
dearer.' — f  Napoleon  laughed  heartily  at  his  confusion,  and  ordered  the  worthy 
professor  of  the  last  to  take  his  measure,  which  he  accordingly  did,  but  not 
till  an  unlucky  salaam  had  somewhat  deranged  the  adjustment  of  his  sword, 
which  became  entangled  between  his  legs,  and  threw  him  on  his  knees  and 
hands. 

^  "  Napoleon  was  fond  of  quick  replies :  he  could  bear  contradiction,  but  inva- 
riably turned  away  from  those  who  addressed  him  with  hesitation  or  embar- 
rassment. The  following  anecdote  will  sufficiently  prove  that  a  ready  and 
well-timed  answer  was  an  infallible  passport  to  his  favour. 

"  At  a  grand  review,  which,  on  a  particular  occasion  took  place  on  the 
square  of  the  Carrousel,  the  emperor's  horse  suddenly  reared,  and  during  his 
exertions  to  keep  the  animal  steady,  the  rider  parted  company  with  his  hat. 
A  lieutenant,  having  picked  it  up,  advanced  in  front  of  the  line,  and  presented 
it  to  Napoleon. — '  Thank  you,  captain,'  said  the  emperor,  still  occupied  in 
patting  the  neck  of  his  steed. — '  In  what  regiment,  Sire  ?'  immediately  de- 
manded the  officer.  The  emperor,  considering  his  features  attentively,  and 
perceiving  his  own  mistake,  replied  with  a  smile,  f  The  question  is  a  propos ; 
— in  the  guards.'  In  a  few  days  the  newly-appointed  captain  received  an 
official  notification  of  the  promotion  for  which  he  was  indebted  solely  to  his 
presence  of  mind,  but  which  his  bravery  and  long  services  had  merited. 

(<  When  Napoleon  was  with  the  army,  I  always  slept  in  his  tent,  on  a  small 
carpet,  or  on  a  bearskin,  in  which  he  was  accustomed  to  wrap  himself  up  in 
his  carriage.  When  these  objects  were  not  to  be  had,  I  endeavoured  to  pro- 
cure a  little  straw.  I  recollect  having  once  rendered  an  important  service  to 
the  King  of  Naples,  by  dividing  with  him  a  bundle  of  straw  destined  for  my 
bed.  In  the  morning,  breakfast  was  usually  prepared  in  the  emperor's  tent, 
served  in  the  space  of  five  minutes,  and  removed  at  the  expiration  of  a  quarter 
of  an  hour.  Berthier  breakfasted  and  dined  every  day  with  Napoleon :  the 
dinner  never  lasted  longer  than  eight,  or  ten  minutes.  '  To  horse,'  the  em- 


182  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  £Ai7G. 

peror  would  then  cry,  and  quit  the  tent,  accompanied  by  the  Prince  de 
Neufchatel,  one  or  two  aides-de-camp,  and  Roustan,  who  was  always  pro- 
vided with  a  silver  flask  filled  with  brandy,  but  which  the  emperor  seldom, 
tasted.  He  then  inspected  the  different  regiments,  addressed  the  officers, 
the  soldiers,  questioned  them,  and  saw  every  thing  with  his  own  eyes.  In 
the  event  of  an  engagement,  the  dinner  was  forgotten,  and  the  emperor  eat 
nothing  till  his  return.  If  the  action  was  prolonged,  some  one  in  attend- 
ance, without  receiving  any  orders,  brought  him  a  crust  of  bread,  and  a  little 
wine.  At  the  termination  of  the  bloody  scene,  Napoleon  never  failed  to 
visit  the  field  of  battle,  and  to  distribute  assistance  to  the  wounded. 

"  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  then  whenever  an  unexpected  incident  com- 
pelled  an  aide-de-camp  to  rouse  the  emperor  from  sleep,  he  was  as  clear,  and 
as  apt  for  business,  as  he  could  have  been  in  the  morning,  or  during  the 
middle  of  the  day :  nor  was  the  slightest  movement  of  ill  humour  percep- 
tible, how  unseasonable  soever  the  hour  at  which  he  was  awakened.  The 
aide-de-camp's  report  terminated,  Napoleon  immediately  lay  down  again, 
and  in  a  moment  slept  as  soundly  as  if  his  repose  had  not  been  interrupted. 

"  During  the  three  or  four  days  that  preceded  an  engagement,  Napoleon 
passed  the  greatest  part  of  his  time  in  pricking  large  cards  with  pins  headed 
with  sealing-wax  of  different  colours." 

Having  quoted  these  details  on  the  subject  of  Napoleon,  we  beg  leave, 
by  way  of  pendant,  to  lay  before  our  readers  the  following  brief  sketch 
of  Josephine  and  her  habits,  during  the  fleeting  epoch  of  her  imperial 
fortunes  :— . 

"  The  Empress  Josephine  was  of  the  middle  stature,  but  gracefully  formed. 
The  lightness  and  elasticity  of  her  movements,  without  excluding  the  idea  of 
majesty,  might  have  reminded  the  poet  of  the  sylph-like  creations  of  his 
fancy.  Her  countenance,  though  ever  marked  by  its  natural  expression  of 
softness,  yet  varied  with  her  feelings.  In  pleasure,  as  in  grief,  she  was 
beautiful  to  look  at ;  the  beholder  smiled,  when  she  smiled,  wept,  when  she 
wept.  Never  did  woman,  in  her  own  person,  more  fully  justify  the  pro- 
verbial expression — '  the  eyes  are  the  mirror  of  the  soul.'  Her's  were  of  deep 
blue,  and  were  generally  half-closed  by  her  long  eyelids  slightly  arched,  and 
terminating  in  eye-lashes  of  no  ordinary  beauty:  with  their  expression, 
though  not  wanting  in  dignity,  severity  was  almost  incompatible.  Her  long 
auburn  tresses,  were  admirably  in  unison  with  the  freshness  and  delicacy  of 
her  complexion, 

"  The  ravishing  tone  of  her  voice  contributed  not  a  little  to  enhance  the 
power  of  Josephine's  charms.  How  frequently  have  I,  as  well  as  others, 
suddenly  stopped,  solely  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  her  delightful  accents  ! 
It  would  be  absurd  to  say  with  her  flatterers,  that  the  empress  was  the  finest 
woman  in  France,  but  her  features,  characterized  by  the  expression  of  genuine 
feeling,  and  the  angelic  grace  diffused  over  her  whole  person,,  rendered  her, 
perhaps,  the  most  attractive. 

"  When  the  empress  was  at  Saint  Cloud,  she  generally  rose  at  nine  o'clock, 
and  arranged  her  morning  toilette,  which  lasted  till  ten  :  she  then  passed  into 
an  apartment  where  were  assembled  such  as  had  solicited  and  obtained  the 
favour  of  a  private  audience.  At  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  emperor  was 
absent,  Josephine  breakfasted  with  her  first  lady  of  honour  and  other  ladies. 
Madame  de  la  Rochefoucault,  first  lady  of  honour  to  the  empress,  was  hunch- 
backed, and  of  such  diminutive  size,  that,  before  she  sat  down  to  table,  it 
was  necessary  to  elevate  her  chair  by  the  addition  of  a  second  thick  cushion. 
These  physical  deformities  were  redeemed  by  the  lady's  brilliant,  though 
rather  caustic  wit,  and  by  her  exquisite  ton,  and  courtly  manners. 

"  After  breakfast,  the  empress  sometimes  played  at  billiards,  or,  when  the 
weather  was  fine,  took  a  walk  in  the  gardens,  or  in  the  park,  which  on  those 
occasions  was  closed  to  the  public.  Her  walks  were  never  long,  and  when 


1830.]  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  183 

she  returned  to  her  apartments,,  she  sat  down  to  her  embroidering-frame,  or 
chatted  with  the  ladies  of  her  society,  who  occupied  themselves  with  needle- 
work. When  not  disturbed  by  formal  visitors,  Josephine,  between  two  and 
three  o'clock,  took  an  airing  in  an  open  Caleche.  On  her  return,  commenced 
the  business  of  the  grand  toilette. 

"  At  six  o'clock  dinner  was  announced,  but  more  frequently  the  emperor's 
preoccupation,  caused  that  meal  to  be  indefinitely  adjourned.  I  have  known 
more  than  one  instance  of  a  dinner  retarded  in  this  manner  till  nine  or  ten 
o'clock  at  night.  The  imperial  couple  dined  together,  sometimes  in  the  com- 
pany of  the  princes  of  their  family,  sometimes  of  their  ministers.  The  hour 
of  midnight  was  invariably  the  signal  for  the  guests  to  retire. 

(<  Josephine  was  gifted  with  a  prodigious  memory,  a  natural  advantage  of 
which  the  emperor  took  care  to  reap  the  full  benefit.  She  was  an  excellent 
musician,  played  the  harp  in  perfection,  and  sang  with  taste.  Her  temper 
was  mild,  equable,  obliging  to  her  friends,  and  even  to  her  enemies,  and 
never  failed  to  restore  harmony  to  the  scene  which  discord  had  envenomed. 
When  the  emperor  was  irritated  with  his  brothers,  or  other  individuals — a 
circumstance  which  frequently  happened — Josephine  spoke  a  few  words,  and 
all  was  tranquillity.  Napoleon  seldom  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  her  supplications 
in  behalf  of  an  offender,  how  grave  soever  the  offence;  I  might  cite  a 
thousand  instances  of  pardons  thus  solicited  and  granted. 

"  The  empress  always  treated  the  persons  composing  her  household  with 
marked  politeness:  a  reproach  or  angry  word  seldom  escaped  her  lips. 
Whenever  one  of  the  ladies  of  her  suite  gave  her  cause  of  discontent,  the 
only  punishment  inflicted  was  an  obstinate  silence  on  Josephine's  part,  which 
lasted  one,  two,  three,  sometimes  eight  days,  more  or  less,  in  proportion  to 
the  gravity  of  the  offence." 

On  the  occasion  of  Napoleon's  visit  to  the  Chateau  de  Brienne,  "  the 
schoolboy  spot"  where  he  had  passed  his  early  days,  he  meets  with  the 
following  adventure  :-— 

"  The  emperor  had,  the  evening  before,  made  several  inquiries  after  old 
Mother  Margaret:  such  was  the  appellation  given  to  a  good- wife  who  occu- 
pied a  cottage  in  the  midst  of  the  forest,  to  which  the  pupils  of  the  military 
school  had,  in  days  of  yore,  made  frequent  excursions.  Napoleon  had  not 
forgotten  the  name,  and  he  learned  with  no  less  pleasure  than  surprise,  that 
the  good  old  dame  was  still  in  existence.  Continuing  his  morning  ride,  he 
struck  into  the  forest,  galloped  to  the  well-known  spot,  and  having  dismounted, 
unceremoniously  entered  the  cottage.  Age  had  somewhat  impaired  the  old 
woman's  sight,  and  the  emperor's  person  was  much  changed : — '  Good  morning, 
Mother  Margaret,'  said  Napoleon,  saluting  his  hostess :  '  it  seems  you  have 
no  curiosity  to  see  the  emperor?' — f  Yes,  but  I  have ;  I  should  like  of  all 
things  to  see  him,  and  I  intend  to  take  that  basket  of  fresh  eggs  to  Madame 
de  Brienne,  that  I  may  be  invited  to  remain  at  the  chateau,  and  so  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  emperor.  Ah  !  I  shall  not  see  him  so  well  to-day  as  formerly, 
when  he  used  to  accompany  his  comrades  to  old  Mother  Margaret's  and  call 
for  a  bowl  of  new  milk.  To  be  sure,  he  was  not  emperor  then,  but  no  matter; 
the  rest  marched  before  him.  He  always  made  them  pay  me  for  my  milk, 
eggs,  brown  bread,  and  broken  crockery — and  commenced  by  paying  his  own 
share  of  the  reckoning.' — '  Then,'  replied  Napoleon,  with  a  smile,  '  you  have 
not  forgotten  Buonaparte  ?' — '  Forgotten  him  !  Do  you  think  one  could  forget 
such  a  steady,  serious,  melancholy-like,  young  gentleman,  so  considerate  too 
for  the  poor  ?  I  am  a  weak  old  woman,  but  I  always  foretold  that  the  lad 
would  turn  out  well/ — f  Why,  yes;  he  has  made  his  way/ 

"  At  the  commencement  of  this  short  dialogue,  the  emperor  had  turned  his 
back  to  the  door,  and  consequently  to  the  light ;  the  narrow  entrance  thus 
blocked  up,  the  interior  of  the  cottage  was  left  in  darkness.  By  degrees, 
however,  he  approached  the  old  woman,  and  the  light  again  penetrated  from 
without.  The  emperor,  upon  this,  rubbing  his  hands  together,  and  assuming 


184  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  [Aua» 

the  tone  and  manners  of  his  early  youth — f  Come,  Mother  Margaret,'  said  he, 
'  bestir  yourself— some  milk  and  fresh  eggs  ;  I  am  half  dead  with  hunger.' 
Margaret  stared  at  her  visitor,  and  seemed  as  though  endeavouring  to  recal 
her  buried  recollections.  '  Ha !  ha !'  said  the  emperor,  laughing ;  f  how 
positive  you  were  just  now  that  you  had  not  forgotten  Buonaparte !  we  are 
old  acquaintances,  dame  ;*  meanwhile  old  Margaret  had  fallen  at  the  empe- 
ror's feet.  Raising  her  with  unaffected  kindness — {  Have  you  nothing  to 
give  me,  Mother  Margaret,'  said  he,  (  I  am  hungry — as  hungry  as  a  student.' 
The  poor  woman,  beside  herself  with  joy,  hastily  laid  before  her  guest  some 
fresh  eggs  and  new  milk.  His  repast  finished,  Napoleon  forced  his  purse 
into  the  hands  of  his  hostess,  at  the  same  time  observing,  '  You  recollect, 
Margaret,  I  used  to  make  every  one  pay  his  reckoning.  Adieu;  I  shall  not 
forget  you;'  and  as  he  again  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away,  the  old 
dame,  weeping  with  excess  of  delight,  and  straining  her  eyes  to  catch  a  last 
look,  could  only  recompense  him  with  her  prayers." 

On  the  subject  of  recognitions,  there  is  also  an  anecdote  of  Junot,  who, 
as  Constant  informs  us,  was  rather  partial  to  a  lark,  or,  as  we  have  it  in 
French,  a  tour  d'ecolier  :-— 

"  Junot,  on  his  return  from  Egypt,  happening  to  pass  through  Montbard, 
where  he  had  spent  his  years  of  boyhood,  took  especial  pains  to  discover  his 
old  schoolfellows  and  playmates,  with  whom  he  chatted  gaily  on  the  theme 
of  his  youthful  pranks.  His  next  step  was  to  visit  the  respective  localities  in 
company  with  his  quondam  associates  in  mischief.  In  the  public  square, 
Junot  perceived  a  grave-looking  old  gentleman,  walking  magisterially  along, 
an  ivory-headed  cane  supporting  his  steps.  Without  further  ceremony,  the 
General  ran  up  to  him,  threw  himself  upon  his  neck,  and  embraced  him  with 
a  vehemence  of  cordiality  nearly  sufficient  to  stifle  him.  The  Professor,  dis- 
engaging himself  with  difficulty  from  the  close  hug,  and  ignorant  of  the  motive 
of  such  warmth,  contemplated  the  General  with  every  symptom  of  stupefac- 
tion. '  What!'  cried  the  latter, ' do  you  not  know  me  ?' — •'  Citizen  General,  pray 
excuse  me,  but  I  have  no  recollection ' — '  Zounds  !  Doctor,  have  you  forgot- 
ten the  most  idle,  good-for-nothing,  untractable  dog  that  ever  tried  the  patience 
of  pedagogue  ?' — '  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,  but  have  I  the  honour  of 
addressing  M.  Junot  ?' — f  You  have,'  said  the  General,  renewing  his  over- 
whelming endearments,  and  bursting  into  a  loud  laugh  (in  which  his  friends 
joined),  at  the  singular  signs  and  tokens  .by  which  the  man  of  learning  had  so 
easily  recognized  his  graceless  pupil." 

Constant  relates  many  pathetic  stories  of  Buonaparte's  generosity, 
though  coupled  with  extreme  parsimony  in  the  concerns  of  his  menage, 
or,  if  we  may  apply  Othello's  phrase,  "  the  house  affairs."  Anecdotes 
of  liberality,  when  recorded  of  those  born  to  higher  station,  or  who  have 
"  achieved  greatness,"  never  fail  to  call  forth  the  eloquence  of  biogra- 
phers, whose  poetic  amplifications  impart  an  air  of  splendid  fiction  to 
the  whole.  In  such  cases,  the  narrator  tells  his  tale  as  if  he  were  utterly 
amazed  that  a  great  man  should  occasionally  indulge  in  "  the  luxury  of 
doing  good."  This  excessive  admiration  of  the  benevolence  of  those  who 
are  kind  with  little  cost  to  themselves,  is  in  reality  a  keen  satire  ;  they 
who  are  inclined  to  cavil  might  infer  from  it  that  elevation  of  sentiment 
rarely  accompanies  exalted  rank.  To  check  such  immoral  notions,  we 
now  select  one  of  the  literary  valet-de-chambre's  shortest  narratives,  as 
evidence  of  the  fact  that  a  great  man  is  at  times  visited  with  the  weak- 
ness of  humanity : — 

"  The  emperor,  walking  one  morning  in  the  environs  of  Milan,  met  with  a 
poor  woman  whose  cottage  was  hard  by,  and  to  whom  he  addressed  a  num- 
ber of  questions.  '  Sir,'  replied  she,  not  being  acquainted  with  the  emperor's 


1830.]  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  185 

person,  '  I  am  extremely  poor.  I  have  three  children  that  I  can  with  diffi- 
culty bring  up,  as  my  husband  is  not  always  fortunate  enough  to  find  work." 
— (  What  sum  of  money/  said  Napoleon,  '  would  make  you  perfectly  happy  ? 
— c  Ah  !  Sir,  the  sum  would  be  immense/ — (  Well,  but  how  much  ?' — '  Ah  ! 
Sir,  if  we  could  put  together  twenty  louis,  we  might  hold  up  our  heads ;  but 
how  improbable  that  we  shall  ever  possess  such  a  sum  !'  The  emperor  imme- 
diately sent  for  three  thousand  francs  in  gold,  and  ordered  me  to  undo  the 
rouleaux,  and  throw  the  whole  into  the  good  woman's  apron.  At  sight  of  the 
money,  the  poor  creature  turned  pale,  tottered,  and  had  nearly  fainted  away. 
'  Ah  !  Sir,  'tis  too  much  ;  'tis  too  much  !'  exclaimed  she,  *  and  yet,  you  can- 
not mean  to  sport  with  a  poor  woman  like  me/  To  encourage  her,  the  emperor 
repeated  his  assurance  that  the  money  was  really  for  her,  and  would  serve  to 
purchase  a  little  farm,  with  the  produce  of  which  she  might  bring  up  her  chil- 
dren. He  then  retired,  without  making  himself  known ;  for  Napoleon  loved 
to  do  good  in  secret.  I  could  mention  many  similar  traits,  equally  charac- 
teristic of  the  emperor's  generosity,  but  which  historians  have  passed  over 
in  total  silence." 

Shortly  before  the  battle  of  Jena,  Napoleon  had  well  nigh  fallen  a 
victim  to  one  of  those  accidents  which  may  be  considered  as  reinforce- 
ments to  the  legitimate  hazards  encountered  in  the  glorious  "  trade  of 
war." — 

"  At  Weimar,  the  emperor  disposed  his  forces  in  order  of  battle,  and 
bivouacked  in  the  centre  of  his  guard.  He  had  ordered  a  passage  for  his 
artillery  to  be  hollowed  in  the  rock,  and  towards  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
set  out  on  foot  to  ascertain  how  the  work  was  proceeding.  Having  remained  an 
hour  on  the  spot,  he  resolved  to  make  a  rapid  inspection  of  the  nearest  outposts, 
before  returning  to  his  bivouack.  This  solitary  excursion  nearly  cost  the 
emperor  his  life.  The  night  was  so  dark  that  the  sentries  were  unable  to  see 
the  slightest  object  at  the  distance  of  ten  paces.  One  of  them,  hearing  foot- 
steps, challenged,  and  immediately  presented  his  piece.  The  emperor,  who 
was  prevented  from  hearing  the  qui  vive,  by  one  of  his  fits  of  absence,  made 
no  answer,  and  was  speedily  aroused  from  his  reverie  by  a  ball  whizzing  past 
his  ear.  Instantly  aware  of  his  danger,  he  threw  himself  flat  on  the  ground. 
No  sooner  had  he  adopted  this  precaution,  than  a  shower  of  bullets  passed 
over  his  head ;  the  first  sentry's  fire  having  been  repeated  through  the  whole 
line.  The  momentary  danger  past,  the  emperor  rose  and  walked  straight  to 
the  nearest  outpost,  where  he  was  immediately  recognized.  In  a  few  minutes-, 
the  sentry  who  had  first  challenged  and  fired  was  relieved  from  his  post,  and 
brought  before  Napoleon ;  the  soldier  was  a  young  grenadier  in  one  of  the 
regiments  of  the  line.  '  You  young  rascal !'  said  the  emperor,  familiarly 
pinching  his  cheek,  ( it  seems  you  took  me  for  a  Prussian  :  the  dog  does  not 
waste  his  powder  ;  nothing  less  than  an  emperor  serves  him  for  a  mark/  The 
poor  soldier,  in  the  utmost  consternation  at  the  idea  that  he  might  have  killed 
f  the  little  corporal,'  whom  he  idolized  not  less  than  the  rest  of  the  army, 
could  only  stammer  out  a  few  broken  sentences  : — '  Pardon,  Sire,  but  I  had 
orders  to  fire ; — if  you  will  not  answer,  I  am  not  to  blame : — another  time, 
you  must  put  in  the  orders,  that  you  don't  choose  to  answer/  The  emperor 
laughed,  and,  to  reconcile  the  poor  fellow  with  himself,  said  as  he  withdrew, 
— '  My  brave  lad,  it  was  not  your  fault :  for  a  random-shot  in  the  dark,  your's 
was  not  amiss :  it  will  soon  be  daylight ;  take  better  aim,  and  I'll  provide  for 
you/  " 

In  the  third  volume,  Constant  acquaints  us  with  the  emperor's  mode 
of  recompensing  the  gallantry  of  one  of  his  field  marshals.  The  anec- 
dote tells  favorably  for  Napoleon's  generosity,  and  also  for  his  gaiete  de 
cazur.  Having  summoned  to  his  presence  the  gallant  officer  in  question, 

M.M.  New  Series.—VoL.  X.  No.  56.  2  A 


186  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  [Auo. 

(Marshal  Lefebvre,)  and  being  informed  that  he  waited  to  know  his 
pleasure : — 

"  Tell  the  Duke  de  Dantzig,"  said  the  emperor  to  the  officer  on  duty, 
'  that  I  have  sent  for  him  thus  early,  in  order  to  invite  him  to  breakfast.'  The 
officer,  imagining  that  the  emperor  in  a  moment  of  absence  had  substituted 
another  name,  took  upon  him  to  remark  the  circumstance.  Napoleon,  with  a 
smile,  observed — '  II  parait,  Monsieur,  que  vous  me  croyez  plus  capable  de 
faire  un  conte  qu'un  due/  CThe  reader  will  readily  accept  this  reply  in  the 
original,  as  a  translation  would  destroy  the  force  of  the  equivoque.^  '  Inform 
the  duke,  '  continued  the  emperor,  '  that  I  expect  him  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.'  The  officer  delivered  the  message  to  the  marshal,  who,  as  it  so  hap- 
pened, at  that  moment  paid  no  attention  to  the  new  title  by  which  he  had  been 
addressed.  At  the  expiration  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  was  apprized  that 
Napoleon  was  at  table:-  he  accordingly  hastened  to  offer  his  respects  to 
his  imperial  master,  who  greeted  him  most  kindly,  laying  particular 
emphasis  on  the  title  of  duke,  with  which,  in  the  course  of  conversa* 
tion,  he  repeatedly  accosted  his  guest.  To  add  to  the  marshal's  astonish- 
ment, '  Duke,'  said  ^Napoleon,  '  are  you  fond  of  chocolate  ?' — '  Why — yes, 
Sire.' — 'Well,  we  have  none  for  breakfast  this  morning,  but  I  intend  to 
make  you  a  present  of  some,  genuine,  from  Dantzig :  it  is  but  just  that  you 
should  reap  the  fruits  of  your  conquest.'  The  emperor,  upon  this,  rose  from 
table,  and  opening  a  little  chest,  took  from  it  a  packet,  which  he  presented 
to  the  marshal  with  these  words—'  Duke  de  Dantzig,  I  beg  your  acceptance 
of  this  chocolate ;  such  little  presents  serve  to  keep  friendship  alive."  The 
marshal,  with  many  acknowledgments,  put  the  chocolate  in  his  pocket,  and 
resumed  his  seat  with  the  emperor  and  Berthier.  In  the  centre  of  the  table 
was  a  pie,  representing  the  city  of  Dantzig.  '  Duke,'  said  Napoleon,  '  that 
conquest  belongs  of  right  to  you — commence  the  attack/  The  marshal 
obeyed,  and  the  pie  was  pronounced  excellent.  On  quitting  the  emperor's 
presence,  the  newly  created  duke,  rightly  guessing  that  his  packet  of  choco- 
late contained  some  hidden  virtues,  opened  it  without  further  delay,  and 
discovered  in  the  inside  the  sum  of  300,000  francs  in  bank  notes.  Ever  after 
this  circumstance,  Dantzig  chocolate  was  the  military  slang  term  for  money. 
When  a  soldier  intended  to  give  a  benefit  to  a  comrade  whose  purse  was 
better  lined  than  his  own,  (  Come/  he  would  say  familiarly,  f  try  if  you  can't 
find  some  Dantzig  chocolate  at  the  bottom  of  your  wallet." 

Constant  has  already  informed  us  that  Napoleon  was  an  ungraceful 
rider : — it  appears  that  he  was  a  worse  dancer.  To  the  valet  de  cham- 
bre,  a  Frenchman,  too, — the  emperor's  deficiency  on  this  point  must 
have  appeared  of  no  small  moment.  We  are  consequently  not  sur- 
prised that  the  mention  of  the  circumstance  finds  a  place  in  the  second 
series  of  the  memoirs.  We  are  told  that  the  Princess  of  Baden,  having 
questioned  him  as  to  his  proficiency  in  the  waltz,  Napoleon  frankly 
admitted  that  his  talent  lay  not  in  "  the  light  fantastic  toe."  The 
princess  undertook  to  give  him  a  lesson, — an  infliction  to  which  the 
emperor  submitted  with  tolerable  grace.  The  patience  of  the  instruc- 
tress, however,  was  more  easily  exhausted.  After  a  few  rounds  of  the 
mazy  dance, — "  Enough,  Sire,"  suddenly  exclaimed  the  princess, — "  I 
fear  me  you  will  make  but  an  indifferent  pupil.  Your  majesty  is  born 
to  give  lessons,  not  to  receive  them." 

The  greater  portion  of  the  third  volume  is  avowedly  due  to  the  pen 
of  a  lady  formerly  belonging  to  Josephine's  household — a  certain  baro- 
ness de  V ,  whose  kind  condescension  enables  us  frequently  to  pass 

to  the  imperial  saloon  from  the  antichamber,  where  the  valet  de  cham- 
bre,  in  pursuance  of  old  habits,  would  fain  leave  us  too  long  to  dance 


1830.]  Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte.  187 

attendance.  The  lady's  narrative,  which  may  be  considered  as  forming 
in  itself  a  separate  memoir,  contains  many  passages  relative  to  distin- 
guished emigrants,  the  principal  personages  of  the  republic,  the  direc- 
tory, and  the  restoration.  The  fragment  which  follows  bears  reference 
to  matter  of  less  serious  import.  On  the  occasion  of  a  fete  given  by 
Madame  Recamier. — 

"  '  A  remarkable  guest/  says  Madame  de  V ,  '  was  expected— no 

less  than  the  famous  savage  from  Aveyron.  On  his  arrival,  he  was  accom- 
panied by  his  preceptor,  physician,  and  friend,  M.  Yzard.  The  lovely  hostess 
seated  him  by  her  side,  presuming,  no  doubt,  that  the  charms  which  cap- 
tivated civilized  beings  would  operate  with  equal  potency  on  the  child  of 
nature,  who  appeared  about  fifteen  years  of  age.  Wholly  occupied,  however, 
in  satisfying  his  voracious  appetite,  the  young  savage  took  no  notice  of  the 
bright  eyes  which  were  attentively  fixed  on  his  unpolished  person.  When 
the  desert  was  served,  he  adroitly  pocketed  all  the  dainties  that  came  within 
his  reach,  and  made  his  escape  from  table  in  the  midst  of  a  discussion 
between  La  Harpe  and  the  celebrated  astronomer  Lalande,  on  the  subject  of 
the  latter' s  atheistical  opinions,  and  singular  predilection  for  spiders.  A 
search,  in  which  all  of  us  joined,  was  immediately  made  after  the  fugitive, 
whom  we  at  length  perceived  running  upon  the  green-sward  with  incredible 
swiftness.  He  had  stripped  himself  to  his  shirt,  which,  on  reaching  the 
principal  avenue  of  the  park,  he  tore  in  two :  and  climbing  the  nearest  tree, 
with  the  agility  of  a  squirrel,  he  seated  himself  among  the  branches.  At  this 
breach  of  decorum,  the  ladies  retreated  in  dismay.  In  vain  M.  Yzard  exerted 
his  powers  of  persuasion  to  recover  possession  of  his  uncouth  pupil's  person. 
Inexorable  to  intreaty,  or  dreading  chastisement,  the  young  savage  skipped 
from  branch  to  branch,  and  from  tree  to  tree.  The  gardener  at  length  having 
tempted  his  appetite  by  the  exhibition  of  a  basket  of  peaches,  the  truant 
came  down  from  the  tree  where  he  had  taken  refuge,  and  was  instantly  cap- 
tured. He  was  then  huddled  into  a  petticoat  belonging  to  the  gardener's 
niece,  packed  into  a  carriage,  and  conducted  home.'  " 

This  work  is  to  be  prolonged  to  the  extent  of  six  volumes.  We  shall 
therefore  bear  in  mind  its  promised  termination,  which,  should  it  con- 
tain matter  of  sufficient  importance,  may  form  the  subject  of  a  future 
article. 


ROYAL    INTRIGUE  ;     OR,    SECRETS    OF    THE    COURT    OF    CHARLES 
THE    FOURTH    OF    SPAIN. 

IT  was  at  the  close  of  a  fine  autumnal  evening  in  the  year  179 — ,  that 
the  signal  of  a  (t  Man-of-  War  in  the  Offing  !"  was  made  from  the  lofty 
look-out  tower  of  Cadiz ;  and  in  another  hour,  his  Catholic  Majesty's 
ship  Antorcha  dropped  her  anchor  in  the  Bay,  after  an  absence  of 
upwards  of  three  years,  during  which  period  that  vessel  had  been 
employed  on  the  South  American  station. 

The  families  residing  in  that  great  commercial  city,  as  well  as  in  the 
towns  contiguous  to  its  bay,  (in  which  that  grand  naval  depot,  Las 
Carraccas,  had  been  for  ages  established),  had  annually  contributed  a 
portion  of  their  junior  members,  both  as  officers  and  seamen,  for  the 
service  of  the  Royal  Fleet.  An  arrival,  therefore,  of  a  king's  ship  from  a 
foreign  station,  was  an  event  which  could  not  fail  to  attract  crowds  of 
anxious  inquirers  of  all  ranks  to  the  port,  eager  to  embrace  some 
beloved  friend  or  relative. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  the  deck  of  tjie  Antorcha  was  beset 

2  A  2 


188  Royal  Intrigue ;  or,  [AUG. 

with  visitors.  Here,  while  one  of  the  gentle  sex  fondly  rushed  into  the 
arms  of  the  long-absent  husband,  another  tendered  the  soft  and  yielding 
hand  to  the  betrothed  of  her  heart,  who  now  returned  to  claim  the 
valued  prize.  Brothers  pressed  to  their  bosom  the  affectionate  sister, 
whose  well-recollected  budding  beauties  had  now  ripened  into  the  full 
luxuriance  of  female  loveliness ;  and  brilliant  eyes  and  lovely  lips 
welcomed  the  wandering  sailor  to  his  native  shore,  banishing  the  remem- 
brance of  past  care  and  peril. 

While  the  crowded  deck  presented  a  scene  of  unbounded  joy  and 
festivity,  a  solitary  individual  paced  in  melancholy  mood  up  and  down 
the  vessel's  poop,  listless  of  all  that  passed  beneath  him.  The  being 
thus  estranged  and  separated  from  the  joyous  group,  was  a  youth  appa- 
rently about  nineteen  years  of  age — a  child  of  other  climes — whose 
dark  expressive  countenance,  shaded  by  clustering  locks  of  the  raven's 
hue,  bore  the  stamp  of  his  transatlantic  nativity.  Haughty  in  his 
deportment,  he  took  his  lonely  round  in  silent  meditation ;  often  throw- 
ing towards  the  blue  arch  of  Heaven  his  flashing  brilliant  eye,  half  in 
supplication— half  in  reproach — at  his  cruel  destiny.  The  centinel  by 
whom  he  was  guarded  preserved  a  respectful  distance,  bestowing  on  his 
charge  a  look  of  pity,  while  he  seemed  to  detest  his  own  ungracious 
office  !  Once  or  twice  the  bursts  of  mirthful  joy  which  broke  from  the 
happy  beings  beneath,  seemed  to  recal  him  from  his  abstraction ;  and  as 
he  turned  his  eyes  downwards,  the  lovely  faces  which  met  his  gaze,  the 
soft  Andalusian  lisp  which  "  like  sweet  music,"  stole  on  his  ravished 
ear,  caused  a  momentary  smile  to  play  over  his  melancholy  face,  which 
found  its  way  to  every  heart — the  Elders  cried  <e  poor  child !"  whilst 
the  younger  invoked  Heaven's  pity  for  the  handsome  American  ! 

"  Who  is  he  ?  What  is  his  crime  ?"  were  now  the  universal  questions  ; 
the  sole  answer  to  which  was  "  The  Prisoner  I — inquire  no  more  !"  The 
profound  secrecy  with  which  the  unfortunate  youth  had  been  placed  on 
board  the  Antorcha  by  the  Grand  Inquisitor  at  Callao;  the  severe 
injunctions  delivered  for  his  safe  keeping,  accompanied  by  the  most 
minute  directions  to  treat  him  with  every  degree  of  tenderness  and 
attention  consistent  with  his  personal  security ;  and,  above  all,  the  inter- 
diction against  his  holding  communication  with  any  person  on  board, 
either  by  speech,  or  letter,  involved  his  case  in  the  deepest  mystery; 
while  his  sweet  and  engaging  manners,  when  accepting  the  mute  cour- 
tesies which  all  on  board  were  anxious  to  bestow,  during  the  tedious 
voyage,  won  for  him  the  pity  and  respect  of  the  whole  crew. 

The  Captain  alone  seemed  to  be  in  possession  of  the  secret  of  his 
crime ;  but  that  it  could  not  be  one  of  an  atrocious  nature,  might  be 
inferred  from  the  perceptible  pleasure  he  appeared  to  take  in  every  act 
of  kindness,  whether  from  himself  or  his  subordinates,  which  could 
possibly  render  the  prisoner's  situation  less  irksome.  What,  then,  was 
his  crime  ?  Time  must  disclose  it  J 

A  strange  and  general  feeling  of  curiosity  was  excited  by  the  exag- 
gerated reports  brought  on  shore;  and  nought  was  talked  of  for  the 
ensuing  two  days  but  the  "  mysterious  prisoner  !"  the  "  handsome  Ameri- 
can !"  The  ship  was  visited  by  those  who  had,  and  those  who  had  not 
relatives  on  board ;  but  disappointment  followed  this  universal  excite- 
ment: the  interesting  captive  had  suddenly  disappeared;  he  was 
removed  in  the  dead  hour  of  night,  and  (strictly  guarded)  pursued  an 
unknown  route  with  the  same  mystery  and  silence  that  attended  his 


1830.]        Secrets  of  the  Court  of  Charles  the  Fourth  of  Spain.  189 

embarkation.  Days,  and  months,  and  years  elapsed,  before  his  name, 
his  crime,  his  country,  the  cause  of  his  disappearance,  and  his  eventual 
elevation  to  royal  favour,  became  known  to  the  people  of  Cadiz. 

In  the  year  180 —  the  whole  of  the  province  of  Andalusia  was  thrown 
into  a  pleasing  ferment  by  the  joyful  intelligence  of  the  intended  visit  of 
their  monarch,  Charles  the  IVth,  his  meretricious  consort,  and  her  para- 
mour Godoy,  the  Prince  of  Peace  (then  High-Admiral  of  Spain),  attended 
by  the  whole  of  their  gay  and  guilty  court,  to  the  port  of  Cadiz,  to  take 
a  first,  and,  as  it  proved,  a  last  look,  at  the  united  fleet  of  France  and 
Spain,  then  collected  in  splendid  array  in  the  bay ;  that  fleet  which  a 
few  short  months  saw  annihilated  by  the  British  thunder,  wielded  by 
our  own  immortal  Nelson  ! 

The  citizens  of  Cadiz,  wantoning  in  the  wealth  acquired  by  their 
monopoly  of  the  commerce  of  the  New  World,  and  prodigal  in  their 
display  of  it,  vied  with  each  other  in  the  liberality  of  their  contributions 
for  giving  eclat  to  the  royal  visit  by  the  most  splendid  reception.  Mag- 
nificent triumphal  arches  were  erected,  through  which  the  royal  cortege 
was  to  pass,  and  every  house  was  decorated.  Amongst  the  other  amuse- 
ments with  which  it  was  intended  to  treat  the  royal  guests,  a  grand 
Fiesto  de  Toros  was  projected.  Hundreds  of  artificers  were  employed 
by  day  and  night  fitting  up  the  Plaza  for  a  grand  display  of  that  great 
national  festival. 

The  Andalusians  had  always  laid  claim  to  the  superiority  of  their  pro- 
vince in  the  exhibition  of  this  barbarous  relic  of  ancient  chivalry ;  and 
no  expense  was  spared  on  this  occasion  to  present  it  with  imposing  pomp 
and  splendour ;  the  animals  selected  for  torture  were  drawn  from  the 
wildest  recesses  of  the  Utrerean  mountains.  All  the  most  celebrated 
heroes  of  the  corrida,  or  bull-ring,  were  engaged ;  and  not  less  than  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars  were,  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  expended  in 
rendering  this  grand  amphitheatre  capable  of  accommodating,  with  ease 
and  safety,  upwards  of  twenty  thousand  spectators. 

To  form  a  just  idea  of  the  Plaza  de  Toros,  the  reader  must  take  into 
his  mind's  eye  a  circus  of  sixty  yards  diameter,  enclosed  on  all  sides  by 
a  wooden  partition  of  ponderous  strength,  of  about  seven  feet  in  height; 
at  regular  distances  of  from  fifty  to  sixty  feet,  there  are  secondary  par- 
titions, equally  strong,  but  which  do  not  extend  to  a  greater  length  than 
from  four  to  five  yards,  forming  slips ;  the  entrances  to  which  at  either 
end,  and  the  two  apertures  in  front,  are  just  of  sufficient  breadth  to  admit 
into  this  sanctuary  the  body  of  a  man.  To  these  bays  (as  they  are  termed) 
the  persons  whose  duty  it  is  to  combat  the  bull  on  foot,  or  assist  the 
mounted  picador  (when  too  closely  pressed  by  his  powerful  antagonist, 
fly  for  security ;  or  in  which  the  unhorsed,  or  disabled  picador,  seeks 
a  temporary  refuge),  being  painted  and  decorated,  en  suite,  with  the  grand 
circular  partition,  these  safeguards,  at  first  sight,  scarcely  appear  as  pro- 
jections ;  and  as  they  seldom  exceed  one  foot  in  depth,  they  do  not 
destroy  that  beautiful  uniformity  which  such  an  extensive  area  presents. 

The  grand  partition  (as  has  been  stated)  is  generally  about  seven  feet 
in  height ;  but  besides  this  security  against  the  intrusion  of  the  enraged 
animal  by  a  sudden  spring,  a  double  tier  of  strong  ropes  passed  through 
iron  stanchions  to  the  height  of  three  feet  more,  surmount  the  whole  of 
the  partition ;  thus  combining  the  most  perfect  safety  with  an  uninter- 
rupted view  to  the  occlipants  of  the  lower  rows  of  the  amphitheatre,  of 
the  interesting  combats  in  the  arena.  The  places  just  mentioned  are 


1 90  Royal  Intrigue  ;  or,  £AuG- 

invariably  occupied  by  men  only,  amateurs  of  the  sport,  who  risk  large 
sums  on  the  result  of  the  combat ;  their  bets  generally  running  upon  the 
length  of  time  the  bull  continues  to  face  and  attack  his  tormentors,  on 
horse  and  foot ;  on  the  number  of  horses  slain  by  the  animal  before  it 
sinks  under  the  various  modes  of  attack,  by  which  it  is  worried,  worn 
out  in  strength  and  spirit,  and  ultimately  slain  !  and  also  on  the  game 
which  the  devoted  brute  evinces  to  the  last !  these  amateurs  are  of  that 
class  of  persons  which  in  this  country  would  be  termed  friends  of  the 
fancy  ;  and,  on  the  occasion  of  these  festivals,  appear  in  the  majo  dress, 
Montero  cap,  and  colored  silk  mantle,  more  or  less  rich  and  expensive, 
according  to  the  taste  and  circumstances  of  the  Wearer. 

The  next  three  or  four  rows  of  the  circle  are  indiscriminately  occu- 
pied by  men  and  women  of  the  middling  orders ;  but  from  the  eighth  to 
the  twelfth  rows,  where  the  seats  are  partitioned  off  into  boxes,  elegantly, 
and  in  some  cases  most  expensively  adorned,  is  the  region  of  rank  and 
fashion,  and  bear  a  price  equal  on  such  an  occasion  as  the  royal  visit, 
from  twelve  to  twenty  dollars  per  seat,  per  day :  beyond  and  above  this 
galaxy  of  splendour,  rising  to  the  majestic  height  of  eighty  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  arena,  are  about  ten  more  rows  of  seats,  the  value  of 
which  decrease  according  to  the  ascent ;  those  on  the  upper  tier  being 
accessible  by  tickets,  varying  in  price  from  one  to  half  a  dollar  each ; 
they  are  generally  occupied  by  a  certain  order  of  courtezans,  and  the 
female  friends  of  the  inferior  combatants  of  the  ring — they  nevertheless 
exhibit  a  dazzling  display  of  white  mantillas  and  spangled  dresses,  which 
on  nearer  view  would  appear  all  tinsel  tawdry,  but  at  such  a  height  and 
distance  (glittering  in  the  sunbeam)  they  strike  on  the  eye  with  splendid 
effect. 

The  royal  box  is  placed  in  front  of  the  grand  entrance,  and  imme- 
diately over  the  portcullis  through  which  the  bulls  are  enlarged  to  meet 
their  enemy.  Previously  to  the  commencement  of  the  sports  the  circus 
is  thronged  with  pedestrians  of  superior  condition  in  life,  who  during 
their  promenade  exhibit  themselves  to  their  female  friends  and  parties 
in  the  splendid  circle ;  the  time  for  the  termination  of  this  indulgence 
having  arrived,  a  roll  of  the  drum  is  heard,  and  a  body  of  troops  (dressed 
as  on  gala  days)  are  marched  into  the  circus  by  platoons,  and  imme- 
diately commence  a  series  of  ingenious  movements,  contriving  at  each 
evolution  to  circumscribe  the  circle,  and  hem  in  the  loungers,  leaving 
only  an  occasional  opening  for  escape ;  thus  without  force,  or  even  the 
indelicacy  of  an  order  for  retreat,  the  crowd  is  gradually  reduced  to  an 
adventurous  few,  who  endeavour  to  sustain  a  footing  in  the  circus,  until 
the  final  tap  of  the  drum  brings  the  whole  body  of  the  military  into  a 
close  and  triple  line,  extending  the  entire  diameter  of  the  arena ;  the 
whole  then  wheels  on  their  centre,  when  the  civilians  escape  through 
the  portcullis,  amidst  the  smiles  of  the  soldiers,  and  the  joyous  shouts 
and  cheers  of  the  thousands,  who  enjoyed  their  various  artifices  to  main- 
tain their  ground ;  this  is  not  an  unpleasing  prelude  to  the  entertain- 
ments of  the  day,  nor  altogether  uninteresting,  as  it  frequently  happens 
that  many  of  the  pedestrians  thus  tempted  to  shew  their  ingenuity,  are 
military  men  of  no  mean  rank  and  experience,  dressed  as  civilians ;  and 
as  no  rudeness  on  the  part  of  the  soldier  is  ever  attempted,  it  is  a  game 
of  ruse  contre  ruse,  kept  up  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  with  spirit,  but  with 
the  most  perfect  good  humour  on  both  sides. 

The  course  being  cleared,  by  the  retirement  of  the  troops,  who  are 


1830.]        Secrets  of  the  Court  of  Charles  the  Fourth  of  Spain.  191 

distributed  in  various  parts  of  the  vast  amphitheatre,  and  at  its  hun- 
dred entrances,  for  the  preservation  of  good  order,  the  first  trumpet 
sounds !  the  grand  entrance  gate  is  thrown  open,  when  the  director 
or  manager  of  the  sports  enters  on  horseback  gorgeously  attired,  fol- 
lowed by  three  mounted  picadors  in  "  rank  entire,"  with  their  lances 
in  rest!  These  persons  wear  a  low-crowned  white  hat,  of  great 
breadth  of  brim,  loosely  fitting  the  head,  but  secured  from  falling  off, 
by  a  broad  band  passing  under  the  chin ;  the  shade  of  the  brim  pro- 
tects the  eyes  of  the  combatant  from  the  dazzling  effect  of  the  sun's 
rays,  while  the  slightest  motion  flings  it  back  on  the  head  at  the  option 
of  its  wearer,  whose  black  and  bushy  hair  is  confined  in  a  silk  bandeau. 
Their  jacket  is  generally  of  tissue,  or  satin,  almost  covered  with 
gold  or  silver  tassels  ;  while  the  sleeves  boast  of  several  hundred  small 
tinsel  buttons  placed  in  rows ;  the  vest,  equally  rich  and  gaudy,  is 
usually  of  a  colour  presenting  a  pleasing  contrast  to  that  of  the  jacket 
— the  picador  also  wears  a  sash  of  coloured  silk  richly  fringed ;  but 
here  ends  the  finery  ;  the  lower  parts  of  the  body  are  enveloped  in 
strong  leathers  profusely  stuffed,  and  wadded ;  and  his  legs  are 
lodged  in  jack-boots  of  the  same  description,  (but  infinitely  less  pre- 
posterous in  point  of  size)  as  those  worn  by  the  French  postilion, 
thus  affording  his  limbs  protection  against  the  horns  of  the  enraged 
bull. 

The  party  advance  towards  the  royal  box ;  the  manager  passes  to 
the  Governor,  by  his  adjutants,  who  are  placed  in  order  to  receive 
the  programme  of  the  entertainment.  The  box  of  the  governor  is 
situated  directly  under  that  of  their  majesties ;  and  a  communication 
beneath  enables  him  to  enter  the  royal  presence  from  time  to  time  to 
receive  the  king's  commands. 

His  majesty's  permission  being  granted  for  the  sports  to  commence, 
the  director  makes  his  obeisance  ;  the  picadors  throwing  back  their 
hats  off  their  heads,  advance,  with  the  lances  pointed  to  the  ground— 
this  homage  they  perform  three  times,  each  time  approaching  closer 
to  the  royal  view,  when  they  file  off,  and  give  way  to  the  bande- 
ralleros,  who  advance  towards  the  royal  box  to  the  amount  of  twelve 
(sometimes  more),  with  their  darts  in  hand,  and  their  silk  mantle  hung 
on  the  left  shoulder.  The  dresses  of  these  persons  (who  are  generally 
young  butchers,  aspiring  to  the  honours  of  the  bull-ring),  are  always 
beautiful,  often  superb ;  (many  are  known  to  be  dressed  at  the  expense 
of  women  of  rank !)  and  frequently  their  wages  for  the  year  is  expended 
on  their  equipment  for  the  festival ;  they  bow,  and  retire  to  the  bays, 
so  as  to  be  ready  to  spring  from  their  cover  in  aid  of  the  picador, 
when  too  hardly  pressed  by  the  bull ;  and  whose  rescue  they  effect, 
by  distracting  the  attention  of  the  enraged  animal  from  the  immediate 
object  of  his  wrath,  to  his  new  assailants,  who,  waving  their  silken 
scarfs  before  his  eyes,  flit  about  like  gilded  butterflies.  Next,  and 
lastly,  of  the  train  of  combatants,  comes  the  solemn  matador,  or  slayer, 
whose  duty  is  considered  the  most  dangerous.  He  moves  towards  the 
royal  box  alone,  holding  in  his  right  hand  a  short  double  edged  sword, 
and  in  his  left  his  Montero  cap  and  bandera,  or  small  square  flag, 
the  handle  of  which  does  not  exceed  one  yard  in  length ;  he  kneels 
before  the  box,  lays  his  sword  on  the  ground,  and  making  the  sign 
of  the  cross  on  his  forehead,  on  the  signal  of  the  governor  resumes  his 
sword  and  rises,  then  retires  to  the  place  allotted  for  him. 


192  Royal  Intrigue ;  or,  £Auo. 

The  tame  ox  is  next  introduced,  to  the  docility  of  which  the  drivers 
are  indebted  for  bringing  on  the  wild  bulls— this  animal  is  the  decoy, 
and  so  long  as  it  leads,  the  untamed  herd  follow  his  steps  in  perfect 
quiet.  The  horns  of  the  beast  are  decorated  with  garlands ;  and 
bunches  of  various  coloured  ribbons  are  interwoven  in  the  tufts  of  his 
neck,  shoulder,  and  croup ;  it  makes  its  obeisance  by  repeated  genu- 
flections to  the  gratified  spectators,  and  being  stationed  in  the  centre 
of  the  circus,  on  a  signal  given,  the  entrance  gates  are  again  thrown 
back  on  their  massive  hinges,  and  the  herd  of  wild  bulls  selected  for 
the  day's  sport,  rush  forward  in  wild  disorder,  followed  by  the  paysanos 
who  were  their  herdsmen  on  their  native  hills,  and  to  whose  voice  and 
whip  they  seem  to  pay  a  sulky  obedience.  On  espying  the  leading  ox, 
they  quickly  cluster  around,  and  tamely  follow  his  steps  through  the 
portcullis,  which  leads  to  a  row  of  separate  cells,  into  which  the  animals 
are  one  by  one  caged  and  confined,  until  required  in  the  circus.  All 
these  arrangements  are  perfect;  and  so  accurately  performed  that 
accidents  are  of  rare  occurrence ;  indeed  the  most  important  business 
of  the  state  could  not  be  conducted  with  more  pomp  and  ceremony,  or 
a  more  rigid  attention  to  the  minutiae  of  forms. 

The  Governor  standing,  receives  the  royal  nod  to  commence ;  the 
trumpet  (which  is  stationed  in  his  box)  sounds  a  charge,  and  one  or 
more  of  the  picadors  take  their  dangerous  post — they  draw  up  as  close 
as  possible  to  the  partition,  (their  horses'  eyes  bandaged),  where  with 
couched  lance  they  await  the  bull's  attack.  The  portcullis  rises,  the 
bull  rushes  into  the  arena  with  furious  roar,  and  flies  at  the  first  object 
which  catches  his  fiery  eye.  The  utmost  coolness  and  courage  is 
requisite  on  the  part  of  the  picador.  As  the  bull  plunges  towards  his 
horse  with  head  bent  almost  to  earth,  the  wary  horseman  meets  the 
attack  by  burying  the  sharp  pointed  lance  to  its  utmost  depth  (only 
three  quarters  of  an  inch)  into  the  shoulder  of  the  animal,  which  ge- 
nerally causes  it  to  retreat ;  if  fierce  and  daring,  the  bull  will  return 
again  and  again  to  the  charge,  and  even  change  his  point  of  attack- 
then  all  the  skill  of  the  picador  is  called  into  action,  while  the  address 
and  activity  of  the  footmen  are  of  the  first  importance  to  his  safety. 
A  picador  seldom  has  less  than  three  horses  killed  under  him  in  the 
course  of  his  tour  of  combat.  As  often  as  he  is  placed  (  hors  de  combat,' 
another  comes  to  his  relief,  while  he  accomplishes  his  remount.  When 
the  bull  seems  to  have  lost  half  his  native  strength  under  the  arm  of 
the  picador,  the  trumpet  sounds  for  the  retreat  of  the  horsemen  ; 
and  the  unfortunate  animal  is  left  to  the  banderalleros,  who  with  great 
skill  and  bravery  execute  the  hazardous  feat  of  placing  their  darts  in 
his  flesh,  on  the  neck  and  shoulders ;  this  requires  the  greatest  activity 
of  foot,  quickness  of  eye,  and  firmness  of  nerve.  When  a  bull  is  torpid 
the  horrible  trial  of  fire  is  resorted  to.  Hollow  darts,  in  the  tube  of  which 
portfire  is  lodged,  ignite  on  pressure,  and  communicate  with  a  train 
of  fire- works  attached:  these  being  stuck  into  various  parts  of  the 
animal's  body,  the  noise  of  their  explosion,  added  to  the  smart  of  his 
many  bleeding  wounds,  and  that  of  the  falling  fire-sparks,  drive  the 
distracted  beast  for  a  time  to  a  state  of  ungovernable  madness,  which 
exhausted  nature  cannot  long  sustain,  and  it  is  succeeded  by  stupor. 

At  this  juncture  the  trumpet  once  more  sounds — the  matador  enters — 
he  places  his  cap,  with  a  most  profound  bow,  on  the  floor  of  the  arena, 
kisses  the  handle  of  the  sword  (which  is  formed  like  a  cross),  and 


1830.]       Secrets  of  the  Court  of  Charles  the  Fourth  of  Spain.  193 

proceeds  to  his  awful  task.  This  is  the  most  serious  part  of  the  fete, 
yet  from  being  so,  loses  much  of  the  interest  which  the  former  bustling, 
battling  scenes  excited. 

The  matador  cautiously  approaches  the  bull,  waving  his  little  red 
flag  across  his  eyes ;  feeble,  and  exhausted  as  the  animal  has  become 
from  its  former  exertions,  its  native  courage  appears  to  revive,  and  it 
makes  a  desperate  struggle  to  meet  this  last  enemy — with  closed  eyes 
and  lowered  snout,  it  rushes  on  the  swordsman,  who,  dexterously 
avoids  the  shock  by  substituting  the  flag  for  his  person,  baffling  the 
bull's  rage  by  the  trick ;  again  and  again  this  manoeuvre  is  practised, 
the  matador  so  contriving  his  movements  as  to  keep  the  bull  to  a  con- 
stantly rotatory  motion  for  a  few  minutes,  then  watching  the  precise 
moment  of  his  delirium,  he  presents  the  fatal  point  directly  to  the  vital 
part,  and  once  more  exciting  the  bull's  attention  by  the  rustling  flag 
before  his  dim  and  fading  vision,  the  animal  makes  his  final  plunge, 
the  keen  blade  is  sheathed  in  his  spine,  and  down  he  sinks  in  death. 

Having  thus  rather  tediously  detailed  the  whole  ceremony  of  the 
Fiesto  de  Toros,  from  the  first  assembling  of  the  company  to  the 
catastrophe  of  the  scene,  the  reader  will  the  better  understand  the  perilous 
part  borne  in  one  of  those  barbarous  encounters,  by  a  Personage  for" 
whose  history  curiosity  had  been  some  years  before  so  strongly  excited. 

Amongst  the  crowd  of  rank  and  title  attendant  on  the  royal  pair  at 
this  grand  festival,  one  individual  who,  unnobled  and  untitled,  bore  no 
other  name  than  Don  Manoel  (or,  as  he  was  familiarly  termed  by  his 
royal  mistress  and  her  obsequious  satellites  Manoelito*),  evidently 
basked  in  the  sunshine  of  royal  favour  j  he  stood  rather  at  the  left  side, 
than  behind  the  chair  of  her  majesty  Maria  Louisa,  with  the  white  wand 
pf  office,  and  richly  embroidered  dress  of  one  of  the  chamberlains  of  the 
palace;  on  his  coat-sleeves  he  bore  the  two  distinguished  bars  of  a 
lieutenant-colonel,  which  military  rank  he  was  evidently  proud  to  dis- 
play, the  profession  of  arms  being  considered  in  itself  noble,  and 
entitling  its  members  to  aspire  to  the  hand  of  the  child  of  the  first 
grandee  in  the  land  ;  an  honour  to  which  the  opulent  merchant,  or  rich 
but  entitled  landowner,  would  in  vain  seek  by  the  influence  of  wealth 
and  independence. 

This  Cavalier  was  above  the  middle  height,  graceful  and  dignified  in 
person,  a  countenance  in  which  were  combined  all  the  manlier  beauties, 
with  the  most  seducing  sweetness  of  expression,  his  luxuriant  hair 
floated  in  short  natural  ringlets,  bright  as  polished  jet,  over  his  fine 
expressive  brow,  as  he  bent  the  head  in  fond,  but  respectful  attention  to 
the  remarks  which  his  royal  mistress  from  time  to  time  deigned  to  direct 
to  his  peculiar  ear. 

Between  the  chairs  of  the  royal  pair,  and  about  a  pace  out  of  the 
line,  stood  the  proud  Godoy  j  his  even  then  fine  face,  and  majestic 
figure,  set  off  by  the  most  splendid  attire,  called  forth  marks  of  reluctant 
praise ;  various  were  the  surmises  of  the  provincials  as  to  the  name  and 
quality  of  the  new  favourite  ;  and  while  every  glass  was  directed  to  the 
royal  box,  admiration  of  the  stranger  fell  from  every  tongue.  At  length 
the  audible  whisper — ' '  El  Prisonero  !" — "  El  Hermoso  Americano  de  Id 

*  The  endearing  diminutive  of  Manoel. 

M.M.  New  Series—  VOL.  X.  No.  56.  2  B 


194  Royal  Intrigue  ;  or,  £AuG. 

Antorcha!"* — was  buzzed  from  box  to  box.  The  cavalier  blushed  as  he 
saw  himself  the  object  of  such  general  attention,  yet  secretly  exulted  in 
the  triumph ;  while  his  still  more  gratified  mistress  bestowed  new  marks 
of  freedom  on  her  minion. 

.  That  tender  intimacy  which  had  for  years  subsisted  between  Godoy 
and  the  Queen,  had  long  since  yielded  to  other  feelings :  jealous  control 
on  his  side  over  her  conduct,  and  an  impatient  dependence  on  his  power 
(the  parent  of  hatred)  on  that  of  her  majesty.  It  has  often  been  insin- 
uated, but,  perhaps,  on  no  just  foundation,  that  he  held  her  majesty's 
life  in  his  hands,  by  the  possession  of  some  documents  which  she  would 
have  given  worlds  to  recal ;  be  that  as  it  may,  he  knew  her  majesty's 
temperament  too  well  to  look  with  too  scrupulous  an  eye  on  the  minions 
of  her  depravity ;  so  long  as  they  were  his  obsequious  slaves,  every  new 
favourite  added  an  additional  link  to  the  chain  in  which  he  held  his 
royal  victim.  Charles  IV.,  himself  a  man  of  coarse  and  violent  animal 
passions,  was  little  observant  of  those  domestic  decorums,  which  alone 
could  entitle  him  to  the  right  of  complaint,  or  the  sympathy  of  his 
subjects;  never  were  the  king  and  queen  of  any  country  more  univers- 
ally unpopular  out  of  that  vicious  circle  by  which  they  surrounded 
themselves. 

Don  Manoel  had  now  been  seven  years  in  Spain,  and  nearly  five  at 
the  court  of  Madrid;  he  arrived  with  the  sentence  of  the  Inquisition 
hanging  over  his  head,  which  doomed  him  to  a  cruel  and  ignominious 
death  ;  yet  was  his  very  crime  the  means  of  his  salvation  !  and  instead 
of  being  burned  at  the  stake,  (the  death  so  mercifully  assigned  to  him 
by  the  holy  office,)  the  first  week  after  his  arrival  he  found  himself 
not  only  pardoned,  but  under  the  fond,  especial  favour  of  the  Queen  of 
the  Two  Worlds !  It  is  time,  however,  to  indulge  the  reader's  curiosity. 

Don  Manoel  Maldonado,  the  only  son  of  the  chief  secretary  to  the 
viceroy  of  Peru,  was  born  at  Lima  in  the  year  1778 ;  his  mother  was  a 
European.  The  youth  was  intended  for  the  service  of  the  church,  but 
from  his  earliest  years  betrayed  such  a  spirit  of  gallantry,  and  attach- 
ment to  the  gaieties  of  life,  as  destroyed  the  hopes  of  his  bigotted 
parents  of  ever  binding  him  down  to  the  rigours  of  monastic  discipline. 
At  the  age  of  fourteen  he  was  placed  under  the  charge  of  his  uncle  the 
Patriarch  of  Peru,  and  grand  prior  of  the  convent  of  the  Iglesia  Alto,t 
also  at  Lima  ;  for  nearly  two  years  the  wild  impatient  boy  was  doomed 
to  rigid  seclusion  from  all  the  pleasures  of  youth,,;  on  the  Easter  and 
Christmas  visitations  of  his  ecclesiastical  superior  and  relative  to  the 
various  convents  of  nuns,  the  young  Manoel  was  one  of  his  attendants, 
and  marched  in  procession,  swinging  the  incense  vase,  and  chaunting 
with  the  choir ;  on  one  of  these  occasions,  a  dart  from  Cupid's  bow 
(shot  from  the  dark  eye  of  a  lovely  Limana,  as  it  peeped  through  the 
close  grating  which  adjoins  the  elevated  altar)  banished  for  ever  from 
his  amorous  heart  the  thoughts  of  monkish  life.  Having  found  means 
to  communicate,  first  by  signs  and  then  by  billet,  with  the  object  of  his 
half-defined  attachment,  he  formed  the  desperate  scheme  of  eloping 
from  his  sacred  prison,  and  effecting  an  entrance  into  that  which  held 
the  nun  in  equally-detested  bondage.  He  was  then  scarcely  sixteen, 

*  "  The  Prisoner  !" — "  The  handsome  American  of  the  Antorcha!" 
-f-  High-Church. 


1 830^         Secrets  of  the  Court  of  Charles  the  Fourth  of  Spain.  1!)5 

slight  in  make,  delicate  and  feminine  in.  face  and  appearance,  flexible 
and  active  as  the  insidious  snake.  All  depended  on  the  management  of 
his  first  attempt,  but  he  boldly  embarked  on  his  dangerous  adventure, 
determined  on  success  or  death!  During  the  distribution  of  the  daily 
dole  to  the  poor  at  the  outer  gate,  at  day-break,  he  fled  from  his  convent 
unobserved,  and  instantly  repaired  to  that  of  his  (almost  unknown) 
beloved  one,  into  which  he  found  means  to  insinuate  himself,  by. a  feat 
which  not  one  in  a  million  could  attempt  with  any  hope  of  success. 

His  enamorata,  as  he  was  apprized,  was  one  of  the  two  nuns  «A  duty 
that  morning,  in  the  pious  work  of  alms-giving.  These  (consisting  of 
provisions,  clothes,  &c.)  are  placed  on  a  kind  of  boxed  turnstile  which, 
revolving  on  its  pivot,  is  turned  outwards  liberally  stored,  and  returned 
back  with  the  emptied  vessels.  Into  this  machine  young  Manoel  con- 
trived to  screw*  himself,  and  on  his  arrival  inside,  was  released  with 
silent  demonstrations  of  joy  by  his  beloved,  assisted  by  a  saintly  sister. 
Having  provided  a  suit  of  their  own  costume,  they  equipped  the  panting 
boy,  and  instantly  hurried  him  off  to  their  cell.  Such  a  prize  to  the 
community,  could  not  long  be  kept  a  secret,  and  the  ingenuity  of  the 
whole  sisterhood  was,  for  upwards  of  two  months,  successfully  exerted 
to  conceal  their  general  treasure :  but,  alas !  a  dreadful  discovery 
dispelled  this  dream  of  transient  felicity ;  natural  proofs  of  the  intrusion 
of  an  unhallowed  visitor,  struck  the  eye,  while  it  wrung  the  heart,  of 
the  holy  mother  abbess !  The  Patriarch  was  apprized  of  the  horrid 
scandal ;  the  nuns  were  locked  up  in  separate  cells  ;  the  familiars  of  the 
holy  office  entered  on  their  task,  with  blood-thirsty  zeal ;  and  the 
luckless  Manoel,  dragged  forth  from  his  hiding  place,  soon  found  a 
living  tomb  in  the  deepest  dungeon  of  the  Inquisition  ! 

Had  he  only  murdered  his  parents,  fired  the  city,  or  blown  up  the 
arsenal,  some  claim  to  mercy  might  have  been  advanced  on  the  score 
of  youthful  levity ;  but  to  violate  the  sanctity  of  a  nunnery  !  was  an 
offence,  for  the  punishment  of  which  even  the  most  cruel,  lingering, 
and  horrid  death  was  deemed  inadequate ! 

Arraigned  before  the  dread  and  secret  tribunal,  the  unfortunate 
Manoel  found  his  ghostly  uncle  the  most  inflexible  of  his  persecutors ; 
an  appeal  to  the  mercy  of  his  judges  he  saw  was  useless ;  so  the  youth 
resigned  himself  to  a  fate  which  appeared  inevitable,  nor  deigned  to 
beg  a  life  which  he  no  longer  thought  worth  the  possession.  His 
parents,  however,  whose  influence  in  the  state  was  powerful,  obtained 
a  suspension  of  the  execution  of  his  sentence,  until  it  had  been  confirmed 
by  the  grand  inquisition  in  the  mother  country,  pending  which,  4 
strong  appeal  was  made  by  his  distracted  mother  to  the  mercy  of  the 
queen.  Two  years  passed  before  the  horrid  monotony  of  his  unvaried 
life  of  woe  was  broken.  Days  and  nights  rolled  on,  to  him  equally 
undistinguished  ;  the  cheerful  light  of  heaven  never  having  penetrated 
the  gloom  of  his  deep  and  dreary  cell  since  the  first  hour  of  his  entomb-- 
ment !  when,  at  length,  (after  a  period,  according  to  his  reckoning  of 
countless  years,  but  in  reality  only  two)  his  dungeon  door  was  opened, 

*  The  same  feat  was  said  to  be  performed  by  a  British  officer  in  Portugal ;  but  as  the 
French  officers  had  previously  dissolved  the  charm  which  bound  in  chains  the  portress  of 

the  gates,  the  gay  and  gallant  guardsman  (Dan  M'K )  might   have  walked  quietly 

in  at  the  great  door :  he  was  an  artiste  in  gymnastics,  however,  and  the  feat  gave  him 
something  to  boast  of. 

2  B  2 


J96  Roy al  Intrigue  ;  or,  ^Airo. 

and  he  was  led  forth,  but  whether  to  life  or  death,  he  knew  not.  The 
balmy  breeze  from  his  native  mountains  once  more  breathed  on  his 
faded  cheeks  ;  his  feet  once  more  pressed  the  light  and  springing  soil ; 
the  love  of  life  revived  within  his  sunken  heart !  He  was  hurried  on 
board  ship,  and  heard  the  orders  given  to  sail  that  very  hour. 

Once  out  of  sight  of  the  land  of  his  birth,  "  a  change  came  o'er  the 
spirit"  of  his  captivity  ;  his  fetters  were  removed  ;  clothes,  linen,  books, 
and  his  guitar,  were  furnished  to  him  ;  a  ready  obedience  was  shewn  to 
attend;  to  all  his  wishes ;  but  the  commander  impressed  on  him  the 
necessity  of  silence  (beyond  the  mere  expression  of  his  wants)  ; — chains 
and  close  confinement  were  threatened  as  the  inevitable  penalty  of  diso- 
bedience to  that  order  !  It  was  in  this  state  of  miserable  exclusion  from 
all  social  converse,  as  a  criminal,  under  sentence  of  death,  the  reader 
first  beheld  the  interesting  Manoel  on  board  the  Antorcha  in  the  Bay  of 
Cadiz  ! 

On  the  third  night  after  his  arrival  in  the  old  world,  .he  was  removed 
on  shore  (with  the  same  mystery  which  attended  his  entrance  on  board 
the  vessel),  accompanied  by  the  commander,  who,  having  placed  him  in  a 
close  carriage  with  two  persons  (armed),  he  bade  him  a  kind  adieu  ! 

The  journey  lasted  eight  days,  during  which  he  was  never  left  a 
moment  to  himself;  his  companions  were  equally  silent  and  uncommu- 
nicative as  those  he  had  so  lately  left ;  and  it  was  not  until  a  week  after 
his  arrival  at  the  capital,  that  the  first  bright  glimpse  of  the  joys  of  life, 
of  hope,  and  love,  cheered  his  almost  broken  spirit !  He  had  been  ele- 
gantly lodged;  indulged  with  every  luxury  his  taste  suggested:  one 
irksome  restraint  alone  existed ; — he  was  still  a  prisoner !  On  the 
seventh  evening,  the  deep  silence  of  his  apartment  was  broken  by  the 
sudden,  yet  cautious  entrance  into  it  by  a  secret  door  of  a  lady  whose 
dress  and  deportment  marked  her  as  being  a  person  of  superior  distinc- 
tion. Having  for  some  moments  surveyed  the  captive  with  looks  of 
pity  (mingled  with  such  strong  emotions  of  a  warmer  passion,  as  caused 
a  crimson  tide  to  dye  the  clear  olive  cheek  of  the  unsophisticated  youth), 
she  occupied  the  chair  which  he,  with  peculiar  grace  had  placed  for  her 
on  her  entrance,  standing,  himself,  in  distant  arid  respectful  admiration. 
The  lady  asked  with  an  evident  degree  of  inquietude — "  Dost  thou 
know  me,  youth  ?" — "  No,  Madam  !"  answered  the  blushing  Manoel : 
"  but  it  would  not  become  the  humble  slave  of  an  unhappy  destiny,  the 
poor  criminal  Manoel,  to  sit  in  such  a  presence ! — had  my  fortune 
been  cast  in  a  happier  lot,  here  could  I  pay  the  homage  of  my  duty, 
and,  as  your  faithful  servant,  devote  my  poor  life  to  your  commands  !" 
The  lady,  astonished  at  the  fervency  of  his  language,  asked  herself  the 
question — Can  I  have  been  betrayed  ? — reason  answered  No  ! — for  up 
to  the  very  moment  of  executing  her  purpose,  the  intended  visit  was 
known  but  to  herself  alone  :  "  Take  courage,  my  son,"  (said  the  lady) 
"  you  are  no  longer  a  criminal ! — No  longer  a  prisoner  !  To-morrow's 
light  shall  see  your  pardon  sealed ! .  The  Queen,  my  gracious  mis- 
tress ! — has  heard  your  story  :  she  pities  ! — she  forgives  you  :  as  a 
mother,  she  has  granted  a  fond  mother's  petition  !  Nay,  your  future 
fame,  your  fortune,  your  life,  depend  on  your  discretion ;  let  not  one 
word  of  this  visit  ever  escape  your  lips — farewell !"  She  held  out  her 
hand,  which  the  youth  on  bended  knee  seized,  and,  while  bathing  it 
with  tears  of  joy  and  gratitude,  almost  devoured  it  with  kisses  !  The 
lady  lingered ;  she  raised  him  from  his  humble  posture — and  in  another 


1830.]         Secrets  of  the  Court  of  Charles  the  Fourth  of  Spain.  197 

moment  he  felt  himself  locked  in  the  embrace  of  his  unknown  benefac- 
tress ! 

******* 

The  lady,  whose  kindness  renewed  life's  charter  to  the  grateful 
Manoel,  although  considerably  above  forty,  bore  a  prepossessing  appear- 
ance, but  in, his  eyes  she  appeared  an  angel;  it  should,  however,  be 
recollected,  that  she  was  the  first  of  her  sex  with  whom  the  warm, 
impassioned  boy  had  conversed,  since  his  expulsion  from  the  paradise  of 
the  convent,  his  raptures  therefore  were  natural  enough  at  his  period  of 
life. 

The  following  morning's  first  light  saw  Don  Manoel  on  his  road  to  the 
Escurial,  attended  by  two  servants,  who  appeared  ready  to  anticipate 
his  wants  and  wishes.  Arrived  within  the  gloomy  gates  of  that  little 
world  of  masonry  and  window,  the  thoughts  of  the  church,  the  shaven 
crown,  and  sable  robe,  once  more  cast  a  gloom  over  his  handsome 
countenance ;  but  it  was  as  the  fleeting  cloud  passing  over  the  brilliant 
sun  •  for  the  lively  remarks  of  his  attendants  soon  convinced  him  that 
his  mode  of  life  was  to  be  any  thing  but  one  of  monastic  seclusion.  He 
was  conducted  into  a  suite  of  comfortable  apartments,  amongst  the 
several  thousands  which  this  vast  pile  contains ;  and  informed  that 
horses  for  exercise  were  at  all  times  at  his  command — that  he  had 
but  to  name  his  wishes  for  ought  he  might  require,  whether  for  improve- 
ment or  for  pleasure,  and  they  should  be  complied  with.  Such  a  change 
in  his  fate  would  have  turned  the  brain  of  the  delighted  youth,  did  not 
the  horrors  of  his  two  years'  solitary  confinement  perpetually  flit  before 
his  memory  with  dreadful  recollections,  and  act  as  a  rebuking  monitor 
to  his  vanity  and  his  passions.  Two  years  passed  away  in  this  state  of 
uninterrupted  pleasure ;  his  tutelar  divinity  visited  him  at  intervals ; 
but  he  could  not  fail  to  observe  that  immediately  before  her  arrivals 
and  departure,  means  were  taken  by  his  attendants  to  confine  him  to  the 
remote  corner  of  the  quadrangle  in  which  apartments  had  been  assigned 
to  him.  He  became  perfect  in  the  accomplishments  of  riding,  fencing, 
and  dancing,  nor  was  he  inattentive  to  the  pleasures  to  be  derived  from 
reading :  he  had  long  since  shaken  off  the  cumbrous  rust  of  his  early 
education,  and  indulged  in  the  full  range  of  history  and  modern  litera- 
ture. At  length,  at  the  end  of  these  two  years  of  probation,  it  was . 
announced  to  him  that  he  had  been  honoured  with  the  appointment  of 
one  of  the  Chamberlains  of  the  Palace  through  the  intercession  of  his 
patroness,  and  his  immediate  appearance  at  the  court  of  Madrid  became 
necessary..  He  was  accordingly  conducted  with  secrecy  to  the  capital, 
and  re-lodged  in  his  former  apartments,  which,  to  his  amazement,  he 
discovered  were  a  portion  of  the  Royal  Palace ;  he  found  his  splendid 
uniform  already  prepared.  On  the  appointed  day,  the  handsome  Manoel, 
with  palpitating  heart,  attended  on  the  nobleman  who  was  to  honour 
him  with  an  introduction  to  the  Prince  of  Peace — he  trembled  with  an 
indefinable  feeling  of  terror  as  that  all-powerful  minister  scanned  with 
piercing  eye  his  whole  person  and  appearance:  his  fears,  however, 
vanished,  as  the  prince,  with  that  appearance  of  warm  kindness,  which 
he  could  so  well  assume,  presented  him  with  the  massy  golden  key, 
and  ivory  wand,  those  badges  of  his  courtly  office,  and  directed  him 
to  follow  in  his  train  to  the  grand  saloon,  to  kneel  before  his  sovereign 
and  the  queen.  While  endeavouring  to  collect  his  agitated  senses  for  the 
new  and  dazzling  scene  in  which  he  had  to  perform  a  part,  one  of  the 


1 98  ^llbyal  Intrigue  ; '  or,  [A  i;« . 

pages  of  the  Duchess  of  A- a,  the  name  assumed  by  his  patroness, 

stole  beside  him,  and  pressed  into  his  hand  a  scrap  of  paper,  on  which  he 
read — 

"  Prove  yourself  deserving  a  QUEEN'S  affections, 

<e  BE    FIRM    OR    PERISH  !" 

concealing  the  paper  in 'his  bosom,  he  almost  blindly  followed  in  the 
Prince's  cortege,  bewildered  in  conjectures  ;  and  when  at  last  led  into 
the  royal  presence,  his  heart  almost  burst  its  mortal  bounds  when  he 
beheld  in  the  person  of  the  queen,  his  loved,  his  honoured,  his  adored 
protector  !  Tlje  words  '_' _Be  Jirm,  or  perish!"  recalled  that  undaunted 
courage,  of  which  no  man  possessed  more  ;  and  with  respectful  dignity, 
and  self-possession,  he  knelt  before  his  Majesty  to  kiss  his  extended 
hand.  But  when  he  turned  towards  the  Queen,  the  exquisite  grace  and 
deep-blushing  humility  with  which  he  pressed  his  lips  upon  her 
snowy  fingers;*  and  the  unequalled  elegance  with  which  he  made  his 
retiring  obeisance,  raised  a  murmur  of  approbation  throughout  the 
crowded  and  gorgeous  apartment. 

His  future  discretion  was  equal  to  his  good  fortune ;  he  never  lost  a 
particle  of  the  royal  favour  by  any  act  of  levity;  while  his  policy  (must 
it  be  added  servility?)  towards  the  haughty  Godoy,  gained  his  powerful 
friendship,  and  he  was  considered  as  one  of  the  most  devoted  creatures 
of  his  patronage.  It  was  not  until  the  occasion  of  the  grand  bull  feast 
at  Cadiz  that  the  jealousy  of  the  prince  was  roused  ;  not  as  regarded  any 
remains  of  passion  which  the  queen  might  be  supposed  still  to  entertain 
or  to  inspire,  but  from  the  growing  favour  of  the  king. 

On  the  third  and  last  day  of  the  festival  an  event  occurred  which 
accelerated  Don  Manoel's  fall,  although  for  the  moment  it  placed  hint 
on  a  dazzling  elevation. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  sports,  a  bull,  whose  fierceness  and  activity 
had  spread  terror  in  the  arena,  had  for  some  time  reigned  undisputed 
monarch  of  the  circus  !  The  daring  Pepe  de  Xeres,  commonly  called 
"  El  Coxo"  (from  his  lameness),  one  of  the  most  desperate  of  picadors,' 
had  been  borne  insensible  from  the  ring,  having  been  overthrown,  and: 
only  saved  by  the  skilful  manoeuvres  of  the  footmen  ;  the  next  in  succes- 
sion for  the  attack,  the  veteran  Pedro  Ortiz,  of  equal  boldness  and  cele- 
brity, shared  a  similar  fate !  But  one  picador  remained  to  sustain  the 
honour  of  the  circus,  the  undaunted  Jose  Colchado,  the  boast  of  the 
mafiolos  of  Madrid ;  after  performing  prodigies  of  valour,  an  unlucky 
slip  of  his  horse  threw  him  on  the  body  of  the  bull,  but  providentially 
so  close  to  the  partition  as  to  enable  the  anxious  spectators  of  his  peril, 
on  the  front  rows,  to  grasp  him  in  their  arms,  but  not  without  serious: 
injury,  having  had  several  of  his  ribs  broken,  and  his  coarse  but  manly 
face  disfigured  by  the  loss  of  the  whole  of  his  front  teeth. 

The  furious  animal  now  trampled  about  the  circus  unopposed,  bel- 
lowing a  horrid  defiance :  it  was  yet  too  vigorous  to  allow  of  the  attack 
of  the  banderalleros.  The  manager  was  in  despair — -the  spectators  impa- 
tient— that  peculiar  clap  of  the  hand,  which  is  the  signal  of  disapproba- 
tion, thundered  round  the  vast  circle ;  at  this  instant  the  Cavalier  who 
stood  on  the  left  of  the  queen  was  seen  to  stoop  to  his  royal  mistress's 
ear,  whose  nod  appeared  to  give  assent  to  his  request.  He  suddenly 

*  The  hand  and  arm  of  the  Queen  Maria  Louisa  were  of  such  exquisite  beauty  and' 
syratoietry,  that  she  constantly  kept  one  OT  other  arm  uncovered  to  display  it. 


.1830.3         Secrets  of  the  Cytrt  of  Charles  the  Fourth  of  Spain.  199 

disappeared  from  the  royal  box,  and  in  a  few  ^minutes,  the  gates  of  the 
circus  flying  open,  revealed  to  the  gaze  of  the  astonished  multitude  the 
handsome  chamberlain  in  his  rich  costume,  mounted  on  one  of  the 
horses  of  the  guards,  his  wand  of  office  exchanged  for  the  ponderous 
lance.  He  entered  the  'arena  with  looks  of  confidence  ;  his  fine  formed 
limbs  had  no  prptection  whatever,  he  was  thus  placed  at  fearful  odds 
with  his  dread  antagonist;  cries  of  "  Hay  !  qui  lastima  !  una  sacri- 
Jtcio!"*  were  heard  from  the  females,  while  the-  cheering  shouts  of 
"  Valiente  cavellero  /"t  burst  from  the  admiring  host  of  male  spectators. 
Don  Manoel  had  just  time  to  take  up  his  position,  when  the  raging 
animal  rushed  on  him  with  all  his  collected  fury.  An  almost  universal 
shriek  followed;  but  the  undismayed 'cavalier  met  his  fierce  assailant 
with  such  dreadful  precision  on  his  lance's  point,  as  to  bury  it  in  an 
already  gaping  wound,  and  send  the  monster  reeling  on  his  haunches, 
trembling  with  pain  and  rage  !  He  however  quickly  returned  to  the 
attack ;  but  his  approach  was  now  slow  and  cautious :  at  length  he 
made  his  bound ;  and  at  that  critical  moment,  the  bandage  slipping  from 
the  eyes  of  the  cavalier's  horse,  the  affrighted  beast  wheeling  suddenly, 
fled  from  his  grim  assailant ;  he  was  already  at  the  verge  of  the  circus, 
with  the  horns  of  the  bull  in  his  vitals,  Another  moment  would  have 
been  fatal  to  horse  and  rider,  when  the  cavalier  whirling  his  spear  in  the 
air,  brought  round  its  point,  and  "resigning  the  reins  for  the  instant, 
•vy heeling  round  in  his  saddle,  aimed  a  deadly  thrust  at. the  bull.  A 
lucky  chance  awaited  this  desperate  effort,  the  lance's  point  fixed  itself 
in  the  nape  of  the  animal's  neck,  and  inflicted  a  new  and  horrid  wound, 
which  once  more  forced  it  to  retire.  The  acclamations  were  astounding, 
and  shouts  of  "  Basta,  basta  I  no  mas,  no  mas  /"J  resounded  from  all 
quarters;  but  the  cavalier,  who  seemed  to  have  set  his  life  upon  the 
cast,  quickly  adjusted  the  bandage  over  his  almost  expiring  horse's  eyes, 
and  adopted  the  dangerous  step  of  advancing  towards  the  maddened 
animal,  into  the  very  center  of  the  arena.  His  horse  already  tottered ; 
his  own  silken-bound  limbs  were  steeped  in  the  poor  animal's  gore; 
but  still  untouched  in  person,  firm  and  undaunted  in  purpose,  he  bore 
himself  like  a  hero  !  The  momentary  prayers  of  thousands  were  put  up 
for  his  safety !  the  panting  bull,  instead  of  facing  his  bold  adversary, 
kept  retiring  with  low  and  hollow  bellowings,  pawing  the  earth,  as  if 
collecting  his  remaining  strength.  Meanwhile  the  fixed  and  darkling 
eye  of  the  cavalier  was  never  for  a  moment  removed  from  the  lance's 
point.  An  awful  pause  of  a  few  seconds  gave  a  deeper  interest  to  the 
scene,  when  on  rushed  the  bull  in  furious  desperation,  burying  his  horns 
in  the  chest  of  the  horse  !  he  was,  however,  at  the  same  moment  himself 
fixed  on  the  unerring  lance  of  the  bold  cavalier !  Neither  yielded  ;  the 
bull,  exerting  all  its  strength,  absolutely  raised  the  horse  from  the 
ground,  when  his  rider  throwing  forward  his  entire  weight,  and  giving 
the  full  force  of  his  arm  to  his  lance,  hurled  the  bull  to  earth,  bleeding 
and  subdued  !  In  this  last  and  crowning  effort  his  lance  was  shivered  ; 
and  as  he  waved  its  fragments  over  his  victorious  head,  the  foundation 
of  the  vast  building  shook  with  the  thunder  of  applause.  He  was  led  in 
triumph  to  the  gates,  where  his  horse,  no  longer  able  to  sustain  him, 
resigned  his  life  in  the  circus.  The  conquered  bull  lay  gasping  on  the 

*  Ah  !  what  a  pity  !    a  sacrifice !  -f-  Brave  cavalier  ! . 

*  Enough,  enough  !  no  more,  no  more  ! 


200  Royal  Intrigue ;  or,  £AuG. 

earth,  never  more  to  rise ;  the  matador,  scorning  to  stain  his  sword  with 
a  fallen  foe,  waved  it  over  his  bleeding  front,  and  retired,  leaving  the 
dying  animal  to  end  his  sufferings  under  the  stiletto  of  one  of  the  atten- 
dants of  the  ring.  Thus  concluded  the  Royal  Fieato  de  Toros  of  Cadiz 
in  180—! 

At  the  drawing-room  held  that  night  Don  Manoel  received  from  the 
hands  of  the  King  the  small  cross  of  Charles  the  Third,  and  the  rank  of 
colonel,  as  the  reward  of  his  bravery  !  His  royal  mistress  in  secret  pre- 
sented him  with  some  valuable  tokens  of  her  increased  admiration  ;  even 
Godoy  affected  to  rejoice  in  this  sudden  tide  of  prosperity,  and  his  con^ 
duct  every  day  led  the  generous,  unsuspicious  Don  Manoel  to  reject  the 
advice  which  those  who  really  loved  and  respected  him  suggested. 

One  evening,  in  the  month  of  November  following  the  above  events, 
while  sitting  in  his  apartment  alone,  "  chewing  the  cud  of  sweet  and 
bitter  fortune/'  occasionally  striking  the  chords  of  his  guitar,  the  door 
which  led  into  his  apartment  (and  which  one  person  alone  had  ever 
entered)  silently  turned  on  its  hinges ;  but  instead  of  that  being,  who  to 
him  at  least  was  all  gentleness  and  love,  appeared  four  men,  masked  and 
cloaked,  with  stiletto  in  hand,  who  suddenly  sprung  upon  him  and 
thrust  a  handkerchief  into  his  mouth,  proceeded  to  bind  his  arms,  then 
placing  a  bandage  over  his  eyes,  they  hurried  him  away,  whither  he  was 
quite  unconscious. 

Placed  in  a  roomy  carriage  with  his  four  conductors,  two  of  whom 
he  felt  sat  before,  and  one  on  each  side  of  him,  after  half  an  hour's 
travelling,  the  spokesman  of  the  party  gave  orders  for  the  removal  of 
the  bandages  from  his  mouth  and  eyes,  and  also  the  binding  of  his  arms 
to  be  relaxed,  adding — "  Silence  or  Death  !"  A  little  before  dawn  the 
coach  arrived  at  its  place  of  destination,  which  he  found  was  an  ancient 
building  situated  at  the  foot  of  the  Guadarama  mountains.  Here  he 
was  ushered  into  an  apartment  with  only  one  aperture  for  light  or  air, 
strongly  secured  by  iron  gratings  :  a  bedstead,  a  table,  and  one 
chair,  was  all  the  furniture  it  boasted.  Here  he  was  for  a  time  left 
to  his  reflections:  that  they  were  such  as  almost  to  overwhelm  his 
reason  may  be  inferred.  What  a  melancholy  reverse  in  his  fortune  ! 
In  a  few  hours  a  strange  person  entered,  in  whom  he  saw  his  jailer  ; 
and  who  placed  before  him  a  good  breakfast  of  chocolate,  and  furnished 
his  bedstead  with  mattrass  and  clothes,  then  retired ;  towards  evening 
his  jailer  returned,  and  found  his  prisoner  locked  in  sleep,  so  deep  and 
so  profound,  that  he  did  not  disturb  him,  but  removing  his  untasted 
breakfast,  placed  a  bell  with  a  lighted  lamp  upon  the  table,  and  quietly 
withdrew.  Delicious  dreams  had  cheated  the  imagination  of  the  unfor- 
tunate captive :  and  the  dread  reality  seemed  itself  a  dream,  when,  as 
starting  from  his  bed,  he  saw  the  light  of  his  solitary  lamp  barely 
breaking  the  gloom  of  his  wretched  prison  !— 

"  Reflection  came,  with  all  her  busy  train, 
Swell'd  at  his  heart,  and  turn'd  the  past  to  pain.'* 

Night  afforded  him  no  repose  ;  the  strength  of  tired  nature  had  been 
restored  by  his  refreshing  day-sleep;  and  the  long  and  silent  hours 
were  spent  in  unavailing  lamentations  !  Two  days  thus  passed,  without 
the  infliction  of  personal  injury  or  insult,  but,  on  the  contrary,  the 
most  respectful,  though  silent  attention  on  the  part  of  his  jailer,  Don 
Manoel  ventured  to  cherish  a  hope  of  better  fortune.  On  the  third  day 


1830.]        Secrets  of  the  Court  of  Charles  the  Fourth  of  Spain.  201 

his  guard  entered  and  presented  a  letter,,  in  a  well-known  hand,  on 
reading  which,  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  and  while  the  big  round  tear 
rolled  down  his  manly  cheek,  he  fell  on  his  knees,  exclaiming, 
"  Bless  her  !  bless  her  !"  His  jailer  motioned  him  to  follow — need  it  be 
told  how  quickly  he  obeyed  the  hint  ? — in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  was 
on  the  road,  and  that  night  at  eleven,  he  found  himself  re-established  in 
his  apartments  !  At  midnight  he  received  a  visit  from  one  too  loving 
— too  much  beloved !  who  unfolded  to  his  astonished  ear  a  tale  of 
treachery — Godoy,  the  false  Godoy,  had  doomed  him  to  ruin!  Banishment 
from  Spain,  was  the  only  condition  on  which  his  royal  mistress  could 
obtain  a  promise  of  his  life ;  a  few  brief  hours  would  sever  them  for 
ever !  even  the  moments  of  this  her  parting  visit  were  numbered !  she 
hung  round  his  neck  her  own  picture,  richly  set  with  large  brilliants, 
and  bestowing  one  long,  long  and  tender  embrace,  while  her  falling 
tears  bedewed  his  face,  she  tore  herself  away  from  the  only  being  she 
ever  loved  !* 

At  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  Don  Manoel  received  an  order  to 
attend  the  levee  of  Godoy ;  on  his  entrance  he  was  received  by  that 
prince  of  hypocrites  with  every  demonstration  of  the  warmest  regard, 
and  complimented  by  his  Highness  and  by  his  circle  of  sycophants  on 
his  appointment  to  a  command  in  one  of  the  most  remote  colonies,  with 
the  rank  of  Brigadier- General.  The  officers  of  his  staff  were  announced 
to  be  in  waiting,  and  it  was  intimated  that  his  departure  for  the  port  of 
Cadiz  must  be  immediate!  His  majesty  and  the  queen  had  left 
Madrid  for  Aranjuez,  the  ceremony  of  leave-taking  was  therefore 
dispensed  with. 

Don  Manoel  seeing  it  in  vain  to  struggle  against  his  adverse  fortune, 
submitted  with  the  best  grace  his  agonized  heart  would  admit,  and  with 
dissembled  gratitude  and  respect  bent  before  his  stern  oppressor,  while 
his  daring  soul  burned  to  avenge  his  wrongs  !  *  *  *  * 

ST.  G. 


MR.    ROBERT    MONTGOMERY,    AND    MR.    EDWARD    CLARKSON. 

THE  recent  publication  of  a  most  extraordinary  pamphlet,  entitled 
"  Robert  Montgomery  and  his  Reviewers,"  by  an  individual  who 
rejoices  in  the  name  of  Edward  Clarkson,  has  revived  a  question  which 
we  thought  the  Edinburgh  Review  had  effectually  disposed  of.  This 
question  is — Is  Mr.  Robert  Montgomery  the  first  poet  of  his  age  ?  The 
Edinburgh  Review  says,  No.  Mr.  E.  Clarkson  says,  Yes.  The  former 
authority  assures  us  that  the  author  of  Satan  is  an  immeasurably  over- 
rated writer,  the  cherished  offspring  of  bombast,  self-conceit,  and 
quackery  :  the  latter,  that  he  is  "  the  new  Star  in  the  East  to  harbinger 
the  hoped-for  epoch  of  religious  philosophy"  ! — that  his  "  didactic  poetry 
forms  a  new  era"  !! — that  he  "  breathes  the  ether  of  loftier  sentiments 
than  suit  the  marsh  miasma  of  certain  literary  coteries" ! ! ! — that  the 
"  mountain  air  to  which  the  broad  sail-vans  of  his  eagle  wings  ascend, 
is  such  an  atmosphere  as  the  measured  and  measuring  materialism  of 
Utilitarian  literature  cannot  breathe  in  and  live" ! ! ! ! — that  he  is  the  "  first 

*  The  old  Duchess  of  O ,  who  had  for  years  enjoyed  the  queen's  confidence, 

declared  to  the  writer  (many  years  after  these  events)  that  if  the  heart  of  her  majesty  evei 
entertained  th$  sentiment  of  love?  unmixed  with  grosser  passions,  Don  Manoel  alone  could 
claim  the  merit  of  exciting  it. 

M.M.  New  Series.— -VoL.  X.  No.  56.  2  C 


202  "Mr.  Robert  Montgomery,  and  [Aua. 

heliacal  emersion  of  a  new  poetical  star  from  the  lower  belt  of  the  vulgar 
horizon"!!!!! — that  he  ranks  in  the  same  class  with  Campbell  and 
Rogers,  with  this  trifling  difference  in  his  favour,  that  he  is  sublime, 
while  they  are  merely  polished  and  beautiful !!!!!! — and,  above  all,  that 
his  Satan  is  a  (t  deeply-reasoned  abstraction,  logically  and  metaphysically 
consistent ;"  while  Milton's  hero  is  "  too  elevated  in  his  pride,  and  too 
godlike  in  his  sublimity  ;"  Marlowe's  Mephistophiles,  "  coarse,  vulgar, 
and  harmless ;"  Goethe's,  "  a  devilish  sceptic  ;"  and  Lord  Byron's,  "  a 
spirit  dephlogisticated  of  his  vulgar  elementary  flames  and  innocent  of 
bad  intentions"  !!!!!!! 

On  reading  all  this  trash,  which  is  meant,  we  suppose,  as  a  sample  of 
fine  writing,  the  first  question  that  naturally  suggests  itself  is — Who  is 
Mr.  Clarkson  ?  We  will  "  elucidate/'  as  Charles  Surface  says.  Mr.  Clark- 
son  (vide  his  title-page)  is  the  author  of  Lectures  on  the  Pyramids  and 
Hieroglyphical  Language,  delivered  in  Scott's  Hall,  in  1811,  and  pub- 
lished in  the  Classical  Journal ;  of  an  Essay  on  the  Portland  Vase, 
subject  Pluto — £hence,  we  suppose,  arises  his  predilection  for  Satan] — 
and  of  a  novel  entitled  ' f  Herwald  de  Wake,"  which  we  once  remember 
to  have  seen  priced  on  a  book-stall  at  nine-pence — a  sum  not  more  than 
three-pence  probably  above  its  real  value.  Thus  variously  accomplished, 
but  at  the  same  time  not  content  with  the  snug,  quiet,  domestic  fame 
he  must  already  have  secured  by  his  lucubrations,  Mr.  Clarkson  has 
thought  proper  still  further  to  increase  that  fame  by  coming  forward 
in  the  present  pamphlet,  and  running  a  tilt  against  all  who  may  be 
hardy  enough  to  question  the  poetic  supremacy  of  the  new  "  heliacal 
emersion."  His  courage  is  more  to  be  commended  than  his  modesty — 
with  which  latter  qualification,  indeed,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  pro- 
fuse quotations  he  makes  from  his  own  writings,  he  must  have  but  a 
distant  acquaintance — and  will  have  this  bad  effect  on  Mr.  R.  Montgo- 
mery's reputation,  that  it  will  mix  it  up  with  strange  associations  of  the 
burlesque,  and  induce  his  reviewers  to  distrust  more  than  ever  that 
genius  which  has  so  bewildered  the  reasoning  faculties  of  the  Lecturer 
on  the  Hieroglyphic  Language. 

There  is  nothing  so  embarrassing  to  an  author,  who  would  wish  to 
rank  as  the  Milton  of  his  age,  as  a  critic  of  Mr.  Clarkson's  way  of  think- 
ing. The  bombastic  eulogiums  of  such  a  man  are  loads  that  "  would 
sink  a  navy."  Mr.  R.  Montgomery  and  Mr.  E.  Clarkson  !  Singular 
but  unavoidable  association  of  names  !  The  one  henceforth  will  as 
naturally  suggest  the  other,  as  that  high-flown  gent.  Bottom  the  weaver 
suggests  the  recollection  of  the  ass's  head  !  Had  the  Lecturer  on  the 
Pyramids  never  published  his  present  pamphlet,  we  should  never  have 
published  our  present  remarks.  We  should  have  left  the  subject  of 
them  to  sink  or  swim,  as  the  case  might  happen,  in  the  full  convic- 
tion that  his  genius  would  soon  find  its  level.  But  the  pamphlet 
before  us  has  wholly  altered  our  intentions.  Disgusted  with  its  nau- 
seous tone  of  flattery — with  its  pedantry,  its  conceit,  its  ignorance,  its 
more  than  Milesian  effrontery — with  its  habit  of  every  where  mistaking 
rant,  fustian,  and  extravagance  for  vigour  of  mind,  and  grandeur  of 
expression,  we  are  reluctantly  forced  into  the  arena  of  controversy.  If, 
therefore,  our  remarks  on  his  various  productions  give  pain  to  Mr.  Mont- 
gomery, we  cannot  help  it :  it  is  not  our  fault,  it  is  his  critic  who  is 
solely  to  blame — and  this  to  a  serious  extent — in  having  thrust  him 
before  the  public  as  the  first  poet  of  his  age,  and  thereby  compelled  us 


Mr.  Edward  Clarhson.  203 

to  break  a 'silence  which,   God  knows  !  we  would  most  willingly  have 
preserved. 

The  first  poems  which  Mr.  Montgomery  published,  and  the  memory 
of  which  his  critic  has  most  unwisely  revived,  were  two  satires,  entitled 
The  Age  Reviewed,  and  The  Puffiad.  The  former,  Mr.  Clarkson  com- 
pares in  "  its  fierce  vituperation  to  Juvenal,  and  in  its  style  to  Young  ;"• 
the  latter  he  asserts  may  be  likened  to  some  of  "  the  lighter  censures  of 
Horace  in  its  playful  range,  and  in  its  mock  heroism  to  the  Dunciad." 
He  adds,  that  ' '  it  is  pointed  and  epigrammatic ;  the  wit  is  sharp,  and 
the  thought  is  weighty,  but,  like  Young,  it  plays  chiefly  on  the  surface  of 
action"  The  idea  of  weighty  thought  playing  on  the  surface  of  action, 
reminds  us  of  a  leaden  bullet  playing  on  the  surface  of  the  water ! 
"  The  verse,"  he  goes  on  to  say,  ft  is  terse,  and  the  imagery  and  meta- 
phors are  appropriately  adapted  to  the  subject."  Of  the  Age  Review  ed> 
the  same  discriminating  critic  assures  us,  that  in  ' '  the  denouncing  inten- 
sity and  fiery  energy  of  the  sentiments  which  gild  its  somewhat  dislocated 
fragments,  and  in  the  eloquium  canorum  of  its  full-toned  and  flowing  ver- 
sification, it  bears  away  the  palm  from  Lord  Byron's  English  Bards." 
This  is  high  praise ;  let  us  see  how  it  is  borne  out.  The  following 
extracts,  taken  indiscriminately  from  the  Age  Reviewed  and  the  Puffiad, 
will  enable  the  reader  to  judge  for  himself.  They  are  put  forth  by 
Mr.  Clarkson  himself,  in  justification  of  the  above  opinions.  Alluding 
to  foreigners,  Mr.  Montgomery  says, — 

"  f  Woe,'  cries  Britannia,  sovereign  of  the  sea, 
e  How  sinecures  and  Germans  plunder  me  ; 
Wet-nurse  for  aliens  and  their  toading  trains, 
I  waste  my  mint  and  desolate  my  plains ; 
While  beastly  eunuchs,  if  they  twirl  and  squall, 
Pipe  on  the  stage,  or  straddle  at  a  ball/  " 

Of  politicians,  he  observes, — 

"  Yes,  every  blockhead  born  to  clean  the  mews, 
To  patch  our  breeches,  and  to  mend  our  shoes, 
Cocks  his  pert  eye,  uplifts  his  pompous  brow, 
And  dubs  himself  a  politician  now. 
Go,  dip  your  nasty  quills  in  Grub  Street  mire, 
Traduce  for  malice,  and  lampoon  for  hire. 
Cling1  to  the  cursed  columns  that  ye  scrawl, 
Like  bloated  beetles  on  a  slime-licked  wall." 

The  expressions  "  beastly  eunuchs" — "  cocks  his  eye" — "  patch  our 
breeches" — tf  straddle  at  a  ball" — are  certainly  uncommonly  like  Young 
and  Horace,  the  former  especially  ! 

Of  a  country  gentleman  in  the  House  of  Commons,  Mr.  Mont- 
gomery gives  a  singularly  Byronian  portrait,  to  say  nothing  of  its 
elegance  : 

"  Hark,  how  his  leathern  lungs,  like  bellows  pant, 
Heave  the  big  speech,  and  puff  it  out  in  cant; 
See  how  he  licks  his  tooth  and  screws  his  eye, 
And  twists  and  twirls  his  thumb — he  can't  tell  why. 
Like  Pythia  perched  upon  a  Delphic  stool, 
He  writhes  and  wriggles — till  his  mouth  is  full, 
And  then  unloads  a  heap  of  stubborn  stuff, 
Till  coughs  proclaim  the  House  has  had  enough  ; 
Then  down  he  sits  with  aching  sides  and  bonds, 
Just  like  a  hog  convulsed  with  grunts  and  groans"  l_^ 

2  C  2 


204  Mr.  Robert  Montgomery,  and  £AuG. 

Gentle  reader,  pray  admire,  we  conjure  you,  the  exquisitely  classical 
and  graceful  manner  in  which  our  satirist  has  here  compared  a  fat 
country  gentleman,  who  licks  his  teeth  and  screws  his  eye,  to  the  female 
priestess  of  Apollo,  under  the  influence  of  poetic  and  oracular  inspira- 
tion !  Observe,  also,  the  refined  taste  which  likens  the  same  gentleman 
at  the  same  period  of  time  to  a  hog  !  A  hog  and  a  priestess  !  Happy 
association  of  ideas !  No  wonder,  Mr.  Clarkson  was  smitten  with  their 
"  denouncing  intensity !" 

Describing  a  dandy,  Mr.  Montgomery  tells  us, — 

"  A  porkish  whiteness  pales  his  plastic  skin, 
And  muslin  halters  hold  the  pimpled  chin  ; 
A  goatish  thing,  he  lives  on  ogling  eyes, 
On  scented  handkerchiefs,  and  maiden  sighs." 

This,  we  suppose,  is  what  Mr.  Clarkson  means  by  the  "  eloquium  cano- 
rum,  the  full- toned  flowing  versification,"  which  bears  away  the  palm 
from  Byron.  Its  ease — its  melody — its  eloquence  are  indeed  superla- 
tive !  The  idea  of  a  dandy  living,  by  way  of  poetic  food,  on  a  pocket- 
handkerchief,  is  matchless  !  Then,  too,  the  "  porkish  whiteness  !"  Mr. 
Clarkson,  no  doubt,  thinks  this  quite  Juvenalian.  He  is  mistaken.  It 
is  the  description — not  of  a  satirist,  but  a  butcher. 
Of  the  Opera,  we  are  informed  that — 

"  Bedaubed  with  paint,  here  jewelled  heads  compose 
Their  pustuled  persons  in  the  steamy  rows  ; 
Pile  luscious  fancies  on  transparent  limbs, 
Move  with  each  form,  and  languish  as  it  swims." 

The  above  extracts,  we  must  repeat,  are  not  our  own,  but  Mr. 
Clarkson's  selections.  They  are  quoted  by  that  gentleman  himself  as 
samples  of  the  "  eloquium  canorum"  and  "  denouncing  intensity"  of 
Mr.  Montgomery's  satire.  By  this  time,  however,  the  reader  is  of  a 
different  opinion.  Instead  of  vigour  of  thought  and  energy  of  expres- 
sion, he  has  doubtless  seen  nothing  but  beastliness — absurdity — down- 
right blackguardism — vapid  imitations  of  Churchill  in  his  vulgarest  and 
most  drunken  moments — the  spirit  of  Zoilus  poured  forth  in  the  dialect 
of  Thersites.  Compare  such  a  scribbler  with  Horace,  Juvenal,  or  Byron, 
indeed  !  The  bare  idea  is  revolting,  and  nothing  but  the  inordinate 
length  of  Mr.  Clarkson's  ears  can  excuse  it.  Vigour  of  thought  is  far — 
very  far  removed  from  beastliness  of  expression.  It  is  not  an  acquaint- 
ance with  slang  dictionaries  alone  that  perfects  the  satirist.  Strength  of 
•mind  —  loftiness  of  idea — pungency  of  wit — power  of  expression, 
that  power  which  shews  itself  not  in  ranting  and  exaggerated  language, 
but  in  a  calm,  easy,  unforced,  and  natural  style — these,  combined  with 
a  just  appreciation  of  what  is  due  to  man,  his  weakness  and  his  worth — 
these,  Mr.  Clarkson,  are  what  form  the  perfect  satirist.  These,  Sir.  are 
what  we  respect  in  Juvenal,  and  love  in  Horace.  Compare  the  scribbler 
of  the  Age  Reviewed  and  Puffiad  with  these  great  and  matured  intellects  ! 
Fie,  fie,  IVIr.  Clarkson,  the  very  devil  who  carried  you  your  proof  sheets 
could  have  corrected  you,  had  you  taken  advantage  of  his  superior 
sagacity ! 

We  proceed  to  the  Omnipresence  of  the  Deity.  This  poem,  which  was 
the  first  that  rendered  Mr.  Montgomery  notorious,  was  published  a  few 
months  subsequently  to  his  Age  Reviewed  and  Puffiad.  Having  failed  to 
eclipse  Juvenal,  he  imagined  probably  that  he  might  have  better  success 


1830.]  Mr.  Edward  Clarkson.  2()j 

with  Milton.  Encouraged  accordingly  by  the  success  of  Pollock's  Course 
of  Time  (which  unostentatiously,  and  without  puffing,  has  reached  a 
ninth  edition),  he  resolved  to  take  the  Deity  under  his  protection,  in 
the  same  way  as,  in  order  to  strike  a  balance  between  the  two  powers, 
he  has  since  taken  the  Devil.  His  previous  poetical  efforts,  as  the  reader 
cannot  fail  to  have  observed,  admirably  qualified  him  for  this  new 
task.  The  difference  between  a  coarse,  vulgar  satire  upon  opera-dancers, 
dandies,  and  so  forth,  and  a  poem  on  so  overwhelming  a  subject  as  the 
"  Omnipresence  of  the  Deity,"  is  so  trifling ;  the  intellect  requisite  to 
ensure  success  in  both  cases  is  so  similar  in  its  kind,  that  no  wonder 
Mr.  Montgomery,  who  had  shone  in  the  one,  fancied  himself  equally 
well  qualified  to  shine  in  the  other  !  On  the  appearance  of  this  new 
poem,  every  engine  was  put  in  motion  that  might  possibly  lift  it  above 
its  level.  One  reviewer  asserted  that  it  entitled  its  author  to  a  tomb  in 
Westminster  Abbey ;  another  that  it  was  replete  with  Miltonic  subli- 
mity ;  a  third,  that  it  was  the  finest  production  that  had  appeared  in 
England  since — the  Lord  knows  when.  In  consequence  of  such  sicken- 
ing adulation,  the  poem  rose  rapidly  into  notice,  or  to  adopt  Mr.  Clark- 
son's  phraseology,  soared  like  the  "  heliacal  emersion  of  a  new  star 
from  the  lower  belt  of  the  vulgar  horizon."  Its  author's  age — a  fact 
which  was  artfully  trumpeted  about — induced  the  public  to  overlook  its 
defects,  nay,  even  to  discover  hidden  beauties  beneath  them.  All  that 
was  unintelligible  was  pronounced  sublime  :  all  that  was  extravagant, 
picturesque.  Insanity  was  styled  imagination,  and  stark-staring  non- 
sense a  profound  spirit  of  holiness.  The  saints,  in  particular,  were  in 
extasies.  A  new  Shiloh,  they  exclaimed,  had  arisen  among  them  ;  and 
more  than  one  soft,  fat,  elderly  spinster  was  heard  to  speak  in  raptures 
of  "  the  miraculous  Mr.  Montgomery ."  Yet  what,  after  all — viewed  in 
an  impartial  spirit— -are  the  real  intrinsic  merits  of  the  "Omnipre- 
sence?" Our  readers  shall  judge  for  themselves.  The  poem  opens 
with  the  following  lines  : — 

"  Thou  Uncreate,  Unseen,  and  Undefined ! 
Source  of  all  life,  and  Fountain  of  the  mind  ! 
Pervading  Spirit !  whom  no  eye  can  trace ; 
Felt  through  all  time,  and  working  in  all  space  ; 
Imagination  cannot  paint  that  spot, 
Around — above — beneath — where  thou  art  not." 

The  two  last  lines  are  clearly  superfluous.  If  the  Spirit  of  the  Deity 
works  in  all  space,  what  occasion  is  there  to  tell  us,  in  the  very  next 
^couplet,  that  imagination  cannot  paint  the  spot  where  it  is  not  ?  The 
lines  are  mere  sound :  nothing  more. 

"  But  all  was  silent  as  a  world  of  dead, 

Till  the  great  deep  her  living  swarms  outspread ; 
Forth  from  her  teeming  bosom  sudden  came 
Immingled  monsters,  mighty,  without  name ; 
Then  plumy  tribes  winged  into  being  there " 

Where  ? — upon  the  great  deep,  we  presume — 

t(  And  played  their  gleamy  pinions  on  the  air ; 
Till  thick  as  dews  upon  a  twilight  green, 
Earth's  living  creatures  rose  upon  the  scene." 

The  meaning  of  this  passage — if  it  possess  a  meaning — is,  that  the 
world  was  silent  till  the  great  deep  outspread  her  swarms;  when,  sud- 


2(K>  Mr.  Robert  Montgomery,  and  [AUG. 

denly,  plumy  tribes  (fish,  of  course)  winged  into  being  there  (upon  the 
deep),  till  earth's  creatures — donkies,  to  wit — geese,  foxes,  bull-dogs, 
eagles,  lions,  &c.  &c. — rose  thick  as  dews  upon  a  twilight  green.  Very 
like  dews,  indeed  !— 

"  And  thus  thou  wert,  and  art,  the  fountain-soul, 
And  countless  worlds  around  thee  live  and  roll; 
In  sun  and  shade,  in  ocean  and  in  air, 
Diffused,  though  never  lessened,  every  where." 

All  this  has  been  told  us  twice  already  in  the  very  first  six  lines. 

"  Lord  of  all  being  !  where  can  fancy  fly, 
To  what  far  realms  unmeasured  by  thine  eye, 
Where  dwell'st  thou  not  ? — the  boundless-viewless  one." 

A  fourth  repetition,  slightly  varied,  of  the  first  six  lines. 

"  How  did  thy  Presence  smite  all  Israel's  eye, 
Flashed  backward  by  the  gleams  of  Deity !" 

To  smite  a  nation's  eye,  is  an  expression  that  even  the  utmost  licence 
of  poetry  can  scarcely  allow.  It  is  very  like  giving  Israel  a  black 
eye.  No  wonder  that  it  instantly  flashed  backward. 

"  For  Thee,  whose  hidden  but  supreme  control 
Moves  through  the  world,  a  universal  soul." — 

A  fifth  repetition  of  the  first  six  lines  ! 

"  The  mercy-fountains  of  divinity 

Now  stream  through  all  with  vigour,  full  and  free, 
As  if  unloosened  from  their  living  source, 
To  carry  with  them  spring's  creative  force." 

Here  is  a  sonorous  farrago  of  words  !  The  mercy-fountains  of  divinity 
stream  through  all  (through  all  what?) — as  if  to  carry  with  them 
spring's  creative  force.  Where — to  whom — or  to  what  are  they  to  carry 
this  creative  force  ?  What  is  the  new  "  heliacal  emersion"  talking 
about  ?  Can  any  one  of  his  admirers  tell  ?  Can  he  tell  himself? 

"  The  boughs  hang  glittering  in  their  locks  of  green, 
The  meadow-minstrels  carol  to  the  scene." 

By  "  meadow-minstrels/*  Mr.  Montgomery  of  course  means  birds. 
Yet  what  have  birds  to  do  with  meadows,  any  more  than  with  moun- 
tains, glens,  woods,  moors,  or  vallies  ?  The  epithet,  is  lax,  and  incom- 
plete. 

"  Ye  mountain-piles,  earth's  monuments  to  heaven  ! " 

Sheer  nonsense !  Earth  did  not  rear  these  monuments  to  heaven ;  it 
was  heaven,  rather,  that  reared  them — 

te  Around  whose  tops  the  giddy  storms  are  driven, 
When  like  an  ermine-pall  the  black  cloud  broods 
In  misty  swell  upon  your  solitudes  ; 
E'er  since  your  giant  brows  have  dared  the  sky, 
Almighty  Majesty  has  lingered  by  !" 

Really,  this  is  wondrous  information !  Then  for  its  elevation  of  thought, 
who  would  imagine  that  a  passage  with  such  a  grandiloquent  opening 


1830.]  Mr.  Edtvard  Clarkson.  207 

as  "  Ye  mountain-piles,  earth's  monuments  to  heaven/'  would  end  with 
so  tame  and  trite  a  truism  as  is  contained  in  the  closing  couplet  ? 

"  Where  haughty  eagles  roll  their  eyes  of  fire, 
Ere  the  rent  clouds  behind  their  sweep  retire." 

The  sweep  of  the  eagle  is,  ad  libitum,  over  indefinite  space.  How  then 
are  the  clouds  to  retire  behind  it  ? 

"  Stupendous  God,  how  shrinks  our  bounded  sense, 
To  track  the  sway  of  thine  omnipotence  !" 

Mr.  Montgomery  has  here  shewn  gross  ignorance  of  the  English 
language.  The  word  <f  stupendous" — vide  Johnson — implies  some- 
thing of  whose  size  we  have  a  distinct  and  definite  notion.  Thus 
we  say  of  a  mountain,  it  is  stupendous  ;  so  also  of  a  temple,  a  ship  of 
war,  a  palace,  a  pillar,  and  so  forth.  How  then  can  it  be  applied  to 
the  Deity  ? 

"  Blest  with  thy  brightest  smile,  dare  we  confine 

An  omnipresence  so  supreme  as  thine  ? 
.     .   True,  on  our  queenly  spot,  the  sea-throned  land, 
Thou  pour'st  thy  favours  with  diffusive  hand; 
Here  cool  and  calm  luxuriant  breezes  blow, 
And  stream-fed  vallies  with  their  fruitage  glow; 
Still  other  climes,  though  touched  with  sterner  hue, 
Are  set  before  thine  all-embracing  view." 

Assuredly,  this  is  valuable  intelligence,  and  the  nineteenth  century  will 
doubtless  appreciate  it  as  it  deserves. 

"  While  skies  in  tempest  agonies  outgroan, 
And  the  mad  elements  seem  left  alone." 

Pray  when  do  the  elements  look  as  if  they  were  left  alone  ?  What, 
moreover,  is  the  meaning  of  skies  outgroaning  in  tempest  agonies  ? 
They  must  outgroan  some  thing  or  body.  Who  or  what  is  it  ? 

"  The  keel-ploughed  waters  rustle  as  they  pass, 
Like  crumpled  blades  of  matin-moistened  grass. 
But  lo  !  the  marsh'lling  clouds  again  unite, 
Like  thick  battalions  halted  for  the  fight  ; 
The  sun  sinks  back,  and  ramping  winds  fast  sweep 
Their  bristled  pinions  on  the  darkened  deep, 
:_,.  Till  the  rolled  billows,  piling  in  a  train, 

Rear  their  white  heads  and  volley  on  the  main. 
Now  from  their  caverns  rush  the  maniac  blasts, 
Tear  the  loose  sails,  and  split  the  creaking  masts, 
Like  steeds  to  battle,  on  the  waves  advance, 
While  on  their  glossy  backs  the  bubbles  dance  ;    ' 
So  fast  her  billows  whiten  in  their  ire, 
•  ,,     -  All  Ocean  seems  to  boil  upon  a  bed  of  fire." 

We  request  our  reader's  particular  attention  to  the  above  notable  passage. 
Darwin  has  nothing  so  turgid ;  Blackmore  nothing  so  vague  and  so  absurd. 
In  the  first  place,  Mr.  Montgomery  talks  of  "  matin-moistened  grass" — 
meaning  thereby  grass  moistened  with  matin  !  Secondly,  he  tells  us  of 
winds  sweeping  over  the  deep  with  bristled  pinions !  (pray,  did  he  ever 
see  their  bristles  ?).  Thirdly,  of  the  same  winds  rushing  from  their 


208  Mr.  Robert  Montgomery,  and  []Auo. 

caves,  after  they  have  already  been  fast  sweeping  over  the  sea ;  and, 
fourthly,  of  bubbles  dancing  on  the  glossy  back  of  an  ocean  which  seems- 
to  boil  upon  a  bed  of  fire  !  And  this  is  sublimity  !  This  is  the  grandeur 
of  thought  and  expression  that  is  to  entitle  its  author  to  a  tomb  in  West- 
minster Abbey  !  Well  might  Byron  exclaim,  "  The  present  is  the  age 
of  cant." 

"  Borne  like  a  sun-beam  on  the  writhing  waves, 
One  mariner  alone  the  tempest  braves  ; 
Home,  love,  and  life,  and  near  imagined  death,    '  ,  .    . 
Nerve  the  stout  limb,  and  lengthen  out  his  breath." 

From  these  four  lines,  we  learn  just  two  things.  First,  that  a  wrecked 
sailor  looks  like  a  sun-beam  j  secondly,  that  a  man  who  thinks  he  is 
going  to  die,  always  lives  the  longer  for  thinking  so. 

"  Aghast  and  quaking,  see  the  murderer  stand,  ^ 

Shrink  from  himself,  and  clench  his  crimson  hand  ; 
Unearthly  terror  gripes  his  coward  frame, 
While  conscience  writhes  upon  the  rack  of  shame." 

The  word  "  gripe "  is  introduced  with  consummate  classical  dig- 
nity. Imagine  terror  griping  a  murderer  !  A  dose  of  calomel  could  do 
no  more ! 

"  Not  so  comes  darkness  to  the  good  man's  breast, 
When  night  brings  on  the  holy  hour  of  rest ; 
Tired  of  the  day,  a  pillow  laps  his  fiead, 
While  heavenly  vigils  watch  around  the  bed." 

"  A  pillow  laps  his  head  !"  This  forcibly  aids  the  description,  and  what 
is  better  still,  helps  out  the  rhyme.  What  a  pity  that,  with  his  usual 
attention  to  particulars,  Mr.  Montgomery  did  not  also  describe  the  good 
mans  bolster,  counterpane,  and  bed-clothes.  They  would  at  least 
have  been  as  dignified  as  the  pillow. 

"  Now  hapless— hopeless— from  the  city  dome 
She  hies  remorseless  to  her  village  home, 
And  wildly  turns  her  deeply-pensive  glance, 
As  down  the  hawthorn  lane  her  steps  advance, 
Where  from  the  distant  hill  the  taper  spire 
Points  to  the  past,  and  fans  her  brain  on  fire." 

A  spire  that  possesses  the  ability  to  fan  a  woman's  brain,  must  be  a  spire 
of  uncommon  genius  ! — almost  as  much  so  as  the  poet  himself  and  his 
long-eared  critic. 

"  There  on  the  turfy  heap,  with  trembling  knees, 
Her  lips  convulsed,  her  ringlets  in  the  breeze." 

"  Her  ringlets  in  the  breeze  !"  From  the  clumsy,  loose  way  in  which 
this  is  described,  a  fastidious  critic  would  be  apt  to  surmise  that  the  lady" 
wore  a  wig,  and  that  the  wind  blew  it  off ! 

"  Thou  unimagined  God !  though  every  hour, 
And  every  day,  speak  thy  tremendous  power, 
Upon  the  seventh  creations  work. was  crowned, 
When  the  full  universe  careered  around." 


1830.]  Mr.  Edward  Clarkson.  209 

Mr.  Montgomery  here  informs  us,  with  a  gravity  worthy  of  the  occasion, 
that  God  rested  on  the  seventh  day  !  Can  we  be  otherwise  than  grateful 
for  such  very  original  intelligence  ? 

"  Then  like  the  sun  slow- wheeling  to  the  wave/' 

An  evident  but  unacknowledged  plagiarism  from  a  similar  line  in  the 
Pleasures  of  Hope — viz.  "  To  hail  the  sun  slow- wheeling  to  the  deep." 

e<  And  on  with  helm  and  plume  the  warriors  come. 
And  the  glad  hills  repeat  the  stormy  drum." 

Mr.  Campbell,  in  the  poem  to  which  we  have  just  alluded,  speaks  with 
no  less  truth  than  vigour  of  "  the  stormy  music  of  the  drum."  Mr.  R. 
Montgomery,  like  most  imitators,  has  disfigured  this  image,  in  order  to 
make  it  pass  current  for  his  own.  Instead  of  the  music,  he  makes  the 
drum  itself  stormy — by  way,  we  presume,  of  adding  boldness  to  the 
metaphor. 

"  Pulseless  and  pale,  beneath  the  taper's  glow 
Lies  her  loved  parent  now — a  clayey  show." 

The  attic  elegance  of  the  expression,  "  clayey  show,"  is  the  chief  re- 
commendation of  the  above  charming  couplet. 

"  To  see  the  fiery  eye-ball  fiercely  roll, 
As  if  it  wrestled  with  the  parting  soul ; 
Or  hear  the  last  clod  crumble  on  the  bed, 
And  sound  the  hollow  mansion  of  the  dead—- 
This—this  is  woe;  but  deeper  far  that  gloom 
That  haunts  us  when  we  pace  the  dreary  room, 
And  shadow  forth  an  image  of  our  love, 
Rapt  to  Elysian  realms  of  light  above." 

The  sentiment  of  this  passage,  to  say  nothing  of  its  poetry,  is  curious 
and  deserves  attention.  It  is  a  dreadful  thing,  it  seems,  to  watch  the 
last  agonies  of  a  dying  man,  but  infinitely  more  dreadful  to  reflect  that 
he  has  gone  to  heaven.  Certainly,  if  heaven  be  such  a  place  as  Mr. 
Montgomery  has  described  it  in  his  <f  Vision," — that  is  to  say,  a  sort  of 
Vauxhall  on  a  large  scale, — we  can  imagine  that  a  staid  domestic  gen- 
tleman would  not  be  over-rejoiced  to  hear  of  his  friend's  safe  arrival 
there, 

"  Who  hung  yon  planet  in  its  airy  shrine  ? 

And  dashed  the  sun-beam  from  its  burning  mine  ? 
Who  bade  the  ocean-mountains  swell  and  leap, 
And  thunders  rattle  from  the  skiey  deep  ? 
One  great  Enchanter  helmed  th*  harmonious  whole- 
Creator,  God,  the  grand  primaeval  Soul !" — 

The  tenth  time,  at  least,  that  we  have  been  assured  of  this  important 
fact. 

"  And  dare  men  dream  that  dismal  Chance  has  framed 
All  that  the  ear  perceives,  or  tongue  has  named—- 
The spacious  world,  and  all  its  wonders  born, 
Designless — self-created — and  forlorn,"  &c. 

This  is  an  arrant  plagiarism  from  a  similar  passage  in  the  Pleasures 
of  Hope,  beginning  with, — 
MM.  New  Series VOL.  X.   No.  56.  2  D 


210  Mr.  Robert  Montgomery,  and  QAua. 

"  Oh,  liyes  there,  Heaven,  beneath  thy  dread  expanse, 
One  hopeless,  dark  idolater  of  Chance?"  &c. 

If,  barren  in  his  own  resources,  Mr.  Montgomery  must  needs  steal  from 
his  betters,  let  him  at  least  have  the  honesty  to  confess  the  theft. 

"  Ages  has  awful  Time  been  travelling  on, 
And  all  his  children  to  one  tomb  have  gone  ; 
The  varied  wonders  of  the  peopled  earth 
In  equal  turn  have  gloried  in  their  birth: 
We  live  and  toil,  we  triumph  and  decay — 
Thus  age  on  age  rolls  unperceived  away  : 
And  thus  'twill  be,  till  Heaven's  last  thunders  roar, 
And  Time  and  Nature  shall  exist  no  more." 

Indeed  !  This  is  really  most  surprising  intelligence.  See  what  it  is  to 
be  a  philosopher  as  well  as  a  poet !  "  Ages  has  awful  Time  been  tra- 
velling on  !" — What  a  discovery  !  "  And  all  his  children  to  one  tomb 
have  gone  !" — How  astonishing  !  "  We  live  and  toil,  we  triumph  and 
decay  !" — You  don't  say  so  !  "  Age  on  age  rolls  unperceived  away  !" 
— Miraculous  young  man  ! 

**  And  lo  !  the  sea — along  her  ruined  shore 
The  white  waves  gallop  with  delirious  roar, 
Till  Ocean,  in  her  agonizing  throe, 
Bounds,  swells,  and  sinks,  like  leaping  hills  of  snow ; 
While  downward  tumbling  crags  and  torrents  sweep, 
And  wildly  mingle  with  the  blaze-lit  deep. 
Imagination,  furl  thy  wings  of  fire, 
And  on  eternity's  dread  brink  expire ; 
The  last,  the  fiery  chaos  hath  begun  ; 
Quenched  is  the  moon,  and  blackened  is  the  sun. 
The  stars  have  bounded  'mid  the  airy  roar, 
Crushed  lie  the  rocks,  and  mountains  are  no  more. 
And  lo,  the  teeming  harvest  of  the  earth, 
Reaped  from  the  grave  to  share  a  second  birth ; 
Millions  of  eyes,  with  one  deep  dreadful  stare, 
Gaze  upward  through  the  burning  realms  of  air, 
While  shapes,  and  shrouds,  and  ghastly  features  gleam. 
Like  lurid  snow-flakes  in  the  moonlight  beam." 

The  above  description  of  the  last  day  has  been  prodigiously  admired.  It 
has  been  pronounced  sublime — original — Miltonic  !  According  to  Mr. 
Clarkson,  it  is  superior  to  any  thing  in  the  Pleasures  of  Hope  or  Me- 
mory, "  in  grand  simplicity  of  design,  and  massy  sublimity  of  effect." 
To  the  former  especially,  insomuch  as  it  is  "  less  evirated  by  a  fasti- 
dious timidity  in  overpolishing."  To  us  it  appears,  not  so  much  a 
description,  as  a  catalogue.  Item  :  so  many  stars  bounding.  Item  :  so 
many  rocks  tumbling  down.  Item :  so  many  eyes  staring  up.  Item  : 
a  quenched  moon,  a  blackened  sun,  and — there's  the  Day  of  Judgment ! 
"  There's  Percy  for  you !"  Now  in  what  respect  does  all  this  differ 
from  the  last  scene  of  a  melodrame  ?  The  wolf's  glen  in  Der  Freis- 
chiitz  is  equally  sublime.  There,  too,  we  have  stars  bounding,  moons 
quenched,  suns  blackened,  &c.  Mr.  Montgomery  wanted  only  a  fox- 
hunt in  the  air  to  have  made  the  parallel  complete.  In  how  different  a 
style  does  Mr.  Pollock  treat  the  same  subject !  A  few  magic  words — 
a  few  mysterious  hints— complete  a  picture  that  no  one  who  has  read  the 


1830.]  '  Mr.  Edward  Clarkson.  211 

Course  of  Time  ever  forgets.     Let  the  reader  compare  the  two  descrip- 
tions. Montgomery's  we  have  already  given.  Here  is  Mr.  Pollock's  :— 

"  The  cattle  looked  with  meaning  face  on  man — 
And  there  were  sights  that  none  had  seen  before, 
And  hollow,  strange,  unprecedented  sounds 
And  earnest  whisperings,  ran  along  the  hills 
At  dead  of  night ;  and  long,  deep,  endless  sighs 
Came  from  the  dreary  vale,  and  from  the  waste 
_Vi  Came  horrid  shrieks,  and  fierce  unearthly  groans 

And  shapes — strange  shapes  in  winding-sheets  were  seen 
Gliding  through  night,  and  singing  funeral  songs, 
And  imitating  sad  sepulchral  rites  ; 
And  voices  talked  among  the  clouds,  and  still 
The  words  that  men  could  catch  were  spoken  of  them. 
*  *  *  *  *  *  '  * 

Night  comes — last  night ;  the  long,  dark  dying  night 
That  has  no  morn  beyond  it,  and  no  star. 
No  eye  of  man  hath  seen  a  night  like  this ; 
Heaven's  trampled  justice  girds  itself  for  fight ; 
Earth,  to  thy  knees,  and  cry  for  mercy — cry 
With  earnest  heart" 

What  an  awful,  shadowy  spirit  of  sublimity  breathes  through  this 
noble  passage !  But  few  images,  yet  each  one  a  picture  !  Who  can 
read,  without  a  shudder,  of  the  strange  shapes  "  gliding  through 
night,  arid  singing  funeral  songs  ?"  The  image  is  replete  with 
power,  yet  neither  too  particular  nor  too  elaborate.  Had  Mr.  Mont- 
gomery attempted  to  work  out  an  idea  of  this  sort,  he  would  have  for- 
gotten the  "  funeral  songs,"  in  his  haste  to  describe  the  length,  breadth, 
dresses  and  decorations  of  the  shapes — in  the  same  way  as,  when  manu- 
facturing a  death-bed  scene,  the  thing  that  most  struck  his  fancy  was 
that  poetic  article  of  furniture,  the  pillow.  We  return  to  the  Course  of 
Time.  "  And  earnest  whisperings  ran  along  the  hills."  The  word 
"  earnest"  has  amazing  significance ;  yet  is  perfectly  natural.  It  is 
Shaksperian,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  term ;  in  its  expressiveness,  not 
less  than  in  its  brevity.  Mr.  Montgomery  would  have  diluted  it  into 
some  such  lines  as  these  : — 

Strange  whisperings  wooed  the  hills  with  strong  caress, 
Full  of  a  grand  tremendous  earnestness  I 

But  we  are  forgetting  poor  Pollock.  What  can  be  fuller  of  that  awful 
mystery  which  is  the  soul  of  effect,  than  the  "  voices  heard  talking 
among  the  clouds  ?"  What  more  intense  in  its  feeling  of  humanity,  than 
the  idea  of  man  partially  overhearing  the  announcement  of  his  destiny  ? 
The  personification  of  earth,  in  the  simple  but  expressive  phrase, 
"  Earth,  to  thy  knees,"  is  another  hint  full  of  lofty  meaning,  embody- 
ing a  comprehensive  spirit  of  humanity,  and  differing  from  Milton 
insomuch  only  as  it  combines  excessive  feeling  with  equal  boldness  of 
conception.  In  addition  to  this  graphic  energy,  the  reader  will  not 
fail  to  admire,  throughout  Mr.  Pollock's  description,  the  ease,  the  force, 
the  almost  colloquial  simplicity  of  the  language.  The  words  seem  to 
drop  into  their  proper  places  unconsciously  and  without  effort.  The 
thought  is  grand,  the  style  natural  and  unaffected.  With  Mr.  Mont- 
gomery's catalogue  or  inventory,  the  case  is  diametrically  the  reverse. 

2  D  2 


212  Mr.  Robert  Montgoinery,  and  £Auo. 

The  thought  there  is  vulgar — common-place— mechanical ;  the  language 
frigid  and  grandiloquent.  It  is  like  a  chimney-sweep  tricked  out  in  a 
court-dress. 

It  may  be  said,  perhaps,  that  in  the  foregoing  strictures,  we  have 
been  too  severe  on  Mr.  Clarkson's  new  "  heliacal  emersion ;"  that  we 
have  not  shewn  sufficient  consideration  for  his  youth.  We  know  not 
what  particular  claims  he  has  on  us  on  this  score.  He  is  considerably 
older  than  Shelley  when  he  composed  his  imaginative  Queen  Mab  ;  con- 
siderably older  than  Keates  when  he  published  his  magnificent  frag- 
ment Endyinian ;  older  than  Chatterton  when  he  immortalized  the 
Bristowe  Tragedy ;  older  than  Pope  when  he  wrote  Windsor  Forest ; 
as  old  as  Akenside  when  he  sang  the  Pleasures  of  Imagination  /  as  old 
as  Campbell  when  he  lent  brilliancy  to  those  of  Hope ;  as  old  as 
Byron  when  he  replied  to  his  Reviewers  in  the  English  Bards ;  and 
as  old  as  Milton  when  he  hymned  the  Masque  of  Comus.  What 
right  then  has  he,  in  particular,  to  claim  exemption  from  criticism 
on  the  score  of  youth  ?  The  plea  was  disallowed  in  poor  Keates's 
case ;  it  was  disallowed  also  in  that  of  Shelley's.  Why,  then,  should 
Mr.  Montgomery— -or  his  officious  critics  for  him—challenge  a  different 
verdict  ?  Is  he  not  satisfied  with  the  applause  he  has  already  secured  ? 
When  was  youthful  poet  more  unwisely — more  extravagantly  puffed  ? 
Has  he  not  been  promised  a  tomb  in  Westminster  Abbey — we  think  it 
but  right  that  the  gentleman  who  promised  this  tomb  should  pay  the 
expences  of  its  erection — and  been  styled  alternately  the  Juvenal  and 
Milton  of  his  age  ?  Above  all,  has  not  Mr.  Clarkson  written  a  pam- 
phlet in  his  favour  > 

Dismissing  then  as  untenable  the  plea  of  youth — for  why  should  not  the 
Omnipresence  stand  the  test  of  criticism  as  well  as  the  Pleasures  of  Hope 
or  Imagination  ? — Mr.  Montgomery  may  possibly  object  to  the  frivolous- 
ness — the  verbal  captiousness — the  fastidious  severity  of  our  objections. 
He  may  say,  we  have  unwarrantably  depreciated  him.  We  reply,  we 
have  merely  pulled  him  off  his  stilts,  and  set  him  fairly  on  his  feet.  But 
granted  even  that  we  have  harshly  condemned  him,  others  have  as 
extravagantly  over-rated  him.  Surely,  then,  the  balance  is  equal !  As 
regards  the  verbal  captiousness  of  our  criticism,  our  justification  is,  that 
in  the  publicly-proclaimed  Milton  of  his  age,  we  have  a  right  to  look,  if 
not  for  fancy  or  feeling,  at  least  for  common-sense  and  grammar. 
With  a  far  greater  shew  of  justice,  may  Mr.  Montgomery  com- 
plain that  our  strictures  on  the  Omnipresence  are  drawn  from  an 
early  edition.  We  give  him  the  full  benefit  of  this  complaint ; 
but  may  add,  by  way  of  answer,  that  it  was  this  very  edition 
— thus  faulty — thus  inflated — thus  crammed  with  absurdities  in  their 
rankest  exuberance — which  first  procured  him  the  appellation  of  the 
"  modern  Milton"  from  one  of  his  reviewers  ;  the  promise  of  a  tomb  in 
Westminster  Abbey  from  another;  and  the  most  fulsome  adulation 
from  the  majority. 

Of  the  Universal  Prayer,  &c. — Mr.  Montgomery's  next  production — 
we  shall  make  short  work.  It  is  a  pompous  thanksgiving — vague 
— indefinite  in  imagery — elaborate  in  language  —  superficial  in  thought; 
and  made  up  for  the  most  part  of  such  sing-song  common-places  as, 
a  storm,  a  shipwreck,  a  sun-set,  a  moon-rise,  a  day-break,  a  consump- 
tive young  woman;  an  innocent  boy,  and  two  raree-shows,  one  of 
heaven,  the  other  of  hell ;  the  former  of  which,  Mr.  Clarkson  assures 


1830.]  Mr.  Edward  Clarkson.  213 

us,  "  resembles  the  gorgeous  orientalisms  and  splendid  horrors  of 
Vathek ;"  while  the  latter  "  is  coloured  by  a  Swedenborgian  hue  of 
religious  Platonism  !"  One  specimen  of  the  description  of  neaven  will, 
we  suspect,  abundantly  satisfy  our  readers.  It  is  styled  "  an  empyrean 
infinitely  vast  and  irridescent."  No  wonder  that  the  Lecturer  on  the 
Pyramids  and  Pluto  is  enamoured  of  this  description  !  The  word 
"  irridescent '  must  be  peculiarly  acceptable  to  a  critic  who  talks  of 
"  impotentializing  a  joke,"  «  evirating  a  poem,"  and  "  dephlogistica- 
ting  vulgar  flames  !" 

"  We  come  now  to  "  Satan."  This  is  the  poem  which,  not  a  few  of 
his  admirers  say,  entitles  Mr.  Montgomery  to  rank  beside  the  author 
of  Paradise  Lost.  We  shall  see.  Milton's  sacred  epic  is  one  of  those 
rare  productions  of  intellect  which  cannot  even  be  contemplated  without 
awe.  In  thought  it  is  sublime  beyond  conception — indeed  language 
'seems  actually  to  bend  and  break  down  under  its  overwhelming  gran- 
deur • — in  imagery  copious  and  stately,  but  natural  and  characteristic ; 
in  description  lavish  and  picturesque  ;  in  sentiment  high-toned  and  aus- 
tere. Its  very  perusal  is  an  act  of  devotion.  The  world,  with  its  count- 
less interests — its  joys — its  sorrows — it's  idle  but  seducing  day-dreams, 
fades  off  our  minds;  we  breathe  a  loftier  atmosphere  of  thought ;  the 
spirit  of  the  poet  sustains  us  as  we  roam  with  him  through  other 
.worlds ;  and  puts  a  power  into  our  vision  to  enable  us  to  appreciate 
the  transcendant  loveliness  of  his  Eden.  His  Satan  is  the  personifica- 
tion of  a  lawless,  ambitious  intellect,  conscious  of  its  powers,  but  limited 
in  their  exercise,  and  hence  perpetually  maddened  with  the  idea  of  its 
comparative  insignificance.  Envy,  however,  is  the  true  touch-stone  of 
Satan's  character.  He  sees  but  through  the  medium  of  this  blinding 
passion,  which  throws  an  added  gloom  over  hell  itself.  Such  is  a  slight 
sketch  of  Satan  as  drawn  by  Milton.  What  is  he  as  defined  by  Mr. 
Montgomery  ?  A  prosing,  shallow,  methodist  parson,  who,  perched 
upon  a  mountain,  like  a  bilious  cockney  on  Primrose-Hill,  looks  round 
him  over  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe  for  the  sole  purpose  of  telling 
us  that  some  parts  have  been  famous  in  their  day,  but  are  now  ruined 
and  all  but  forgotten  ;  that  Jerusalem — Egypt — Persia — Rome — Venice 
— Greece — Spain,  &c.  are  nothing  to  what  they  have  been  ;  that  Buona- 
parte and  Lord  Byron,  though  very  clever,  were  both  very  wicked  men ; 
that  the  powers  of  human  nature  are  great  and  various,  but  too  often 
perverted ;  that  the  public  press*  is  a  vile,  degraded  instrument  of  oppres- 
sion ;  that  a  theatre  is  the  haunt  of  debauchery,  "  a  fine  prospect  for 
demoniac  view ;"  and  a  ball-room,  pretty  nearly,  if  not  quite  as  bad ; 
that  in  short,  the  whole  world,  and  more  especially  England,  is  in  a 
desperately  bad  state.  And  this,  Mr.  Montgomery  calls  giving  a  new 
version  of  the  character  of  Satan!  He  makes  him  a  field  preacher, 
and  cries  out  "  Eureka !"  He  makes  him  a  strange  compound  of 
Boatswain  Smith  and  Parson  Grahame — "  sepulchral  Grahame,"  as  Byron 
aptly  calls  him — and  triumphantly  exclaims,  "  Thou  art  the  man !" 
There  is  nothing  on  record  in  the  annals  of  literature  to  equal  this  pre- 
sumption. It  stands  alone  in  its  superhuman  audacity.  Our  only  notions 
of  Satan  are  drawn  from  Scripture  or  from  Milton.  They  are  the  sole 

*  In  a  note  intended  to  qualify  his  general  abuse  of  the  public  press,  Mr.  Montgomery 
says,  *"  of  course  there  are  some  honourable  exceptions."  By  the  "  honourable  excep- 
tions" he  means,  we  presume,  those  newspapers  who  have  been  good-natured  enough  to 
praise  his  various  poems.  - 


214  Mr.  Robert  Montgomery,  and  £Auo. 

authorities  we  recognise  on  the  subject.  They  have  made  the  fiend  in 
some  degree  an  historical  character ;  and  for  an  author  (and  that  author 
Mr.  Robert  Montgomery !)  to  think  of  coming  forward  at  this  time  of 
day  and  changing  the  established  impression  of  ages,  is  as  arrant  a 
piece  of  impertinence  as  if  he  were  to  attempt  to  fashion  a  new  nature 
for  Caesar,  Cromwell,  or  any  other  great  man  on  whom  the  world  has 
already  passed  its  decision. 

The  true  touch-stone  of  Milton's  Satan  is,  as  we  observed  before, 
envy.  Hence  arises  his  gloom — his  despair — his  hatred.  He  looks  on 
Paradise;  it's  loveliness  blasts  him,  and  he  turns  away  writhing  as  if 
stung  by  scorpions.  He  fixes  his  gaze  on  the  manly  form  of  Adam 
and  the  more  delicate  beauty  of  Eve  ;  a  curse  escapes  him  at  the  sight ; 
the  passions  of  his  soul  blaze  fiercely  out  in  his  face,  and,  despite  the 
necessity  of  concealment,  he  betrays  himself  at  once  to  Uriel.  He  looks 
up  towards  the  shining  heavens,  and  his  jealous  and  envious  hatred  of 
the  Omnipotent  torture  his  soul  to  madness.  In  a  far  different  spirit 
does  Mr.  Montgomery's  Satan  gaze  round  him  on  the  wonders  of  crea- 
tion. Of  man  and  woman,  he  discourses  like  a  would-be  Socrates,  in  a 
strain  of  benevolence  which  (strange  enough)  he  seems  to  think  is  con- 
temptuous ;  and  of  external  nature  with  an  equal  absence  of  bad  feeling. 
With  a  sunset,  in  particular,  he  is  delighted ;  with  a  moonlight  enrap- 
tured ;  the  sight  of  a  rich  sylvan  landscape  throws  him  into  perfect 
extacies. 

(t  Heaven-favoured  land  !  of  grandeur  and  of  gloom, 
Of  mountain  pomp,  and  majesty  of  hills, 
Though  other  climates  boast,  in  thee  supreme 
A  beauty  and  a  gentleness  abound : 
Here  all  that  can  soft  worship  claim,  or  tone 
The  sweet  sobriety  of  tender  thought, 
Is  thine ;  the  sky  of  blue  intensity, 
Or  charmed  by  sunshine  into  picture-clouds  ; 
The  dingle  grey,  and  wooded  copse,  with  hut 
And  hamlet  nestling  in  the  bosky  vale, 
And  spires  brown  peeping  o'er  the  ancient  elms, 
With  all  that  bird  and  meadow,  brook  and  gale, 
Impart — are  mingled  for  admiring  eyes, 
That  love  to  banquet  on  thy  blissful  scene." 

This  is  a  sweet,  we  will  even  say,  a  beautiful  pastoral  description ;  but 
who  would  suppose  that  it  came  from  the  mouth  of  Satan  ?  Who  would 
imagine  that  the  Arch-fiend  would  condescend  to  imitate  Thompson, 
Grahame,  or  Bloomfield  ? — Again  : 

"  But  lo  !  the  day  declines,  and  to  his  throne 
The  sun  is  wheeling.     What  a  world  of  pomp 
The  heavens  put  on  in  homage  of  his  power ! 
Romance  hath  never  hung  a  richer  sky — 
The  air  is  fragant  with  the  soul  of  flowers, 
The  breeze  comes  panting  like  a  child  at  play, 
And  calm  as  clouds  the  sunken  billows  sleep  ; 
The  dimness  of  a  dream  o'er  nature  steals, 
Yet  hallows  it ;  a  hushed  enchantment  reigns; 
The  mountains  to  a  mass  of  mellowing  shade 
Are  turned,  and  stand  like  temples  of  the  night ; 
While  field  and  forest  fading  into  gloom, 
Depart,  and  rivers  whisper  sounds  of  fear — 


1830.]  Mr.  Edward  Clarkson.  215. 

A  dying  pause,  as  if  th'  Almighty  moved 
In  shadow  o'er  his  works,  hath  solemnized 
The  world." 

We  have  no  fault  to  find  with  this  passage  but  its  utter  want  of  pro- 
priety. It  is  the  description  not  of  a  lofty  mind  diseased,  an  ambitious 
spirit  fallen;  but  of  a  happy  and  religious  pensive  nature,  with  no  cares 
to  vex,  no  undying  reflections  to  divert  its  attention  from  the  beauties  of 
creation.  Lord  Byron,  adopting  the  received  ideas  of  Satan,  says  of  him, 
"  where'er  he  gazed  a  gloom  pervaded  space."  This  is  finely  character- 
istic of  a  fallen  spirit.  Mr.  Montgomery,  however,  seems  to  think 
otherwise,  and  determined  to  be  original  in  his  conceptions,  makes  his 
damon  gaze  round  him  not  for  the  purpose  of  deepening  nature's  gloom, 
but  of  drawing  forth  her  beauties  and  painting  their  minutiae  in  water- 
colours.  And  this  he  terms  giving  a  new  reading  to  Satan  !  As  if  the 
Prince  of  Hell's  archangels ;  the  dauntless  Fiend  who  drew  after  him  the 
third  of  heaven's  seraphim ;  who  stood  boldly  face  to  face  with  the 
Son  of  the  Godhead,  and  defied  the  Omnipotent  himself  to  arms — as  if 
such  a  spirit,  so  sublime  in  daring,  so  matchless  in  iniquity  ;  so  absorbed 
in  the  recollection  of  his  past  glory,  and  the  consciousness  of  his  present 
degradation ;  so  towering  in  his  ambition,  so  inexhaustible  in  his  con- 
ception; so  scheming,  subtle,  malignant,  and  comprehensive, — as  if  such 
a  magnificent  spirit  could  find  leisure  or  inclination  to  divert  the  channel 
of  his  mighty  thoughts,  in  order  to  describe  the  details  of  a  small  sylvan 
landscape  in  the  puny  dialect  of  a  pastoral  poet ! 

But  not  in  one  portion  only,  in  every  particular  of  his  character,  no 
matter  how  slight  or  unimportant,  Mr.  Montgomery  has  mistaken  Satan. 
He  has  made  him  speak  of  Napoleon  and  Lord  Byron  in  the  language 
of  the  conventicle ;  lament  the  sins  of  the  press  in  the  spirit  of  a  Whig 
attorney-general,  and  anathematize  the  theatre  and  the  ball-room  with  a 
fanatic  heartiness  that  Mr.  Irving  himself  must  despair  to  equal.  As  a 
metaphysician,  Satan  is  equally  ridiculous.  He  talks  of  "  learning"  as 
as  a  "  shallow  excellence,"  as  if  he  were  altogether  unacquainted  with 
the  difference  between  learning  and  pedantry.  In  the  minor  defects  of 
language  and  description,  the  poem  abounds  to  profusion.  There  is 
scarcely  one  page  in  a  volume  consisting  of  386,  that  does  not  contain 
some  absurd  metaphor — some  tawdry  epithet,  some  new-coined  phrase, 
or  some  palpable  grammatical  blunder.  Poor  Priscian  is  sadly  treated 
throughout :  not  a  bone  in  his  skull  is  left  unbroken.  We  have  con- 
tinually for  instance  such  ungrammatical  expressions  as, 

"  Is  the  earth 

Appalled,  or  agonizing  in  the  wrack 
Of  elements  ?"— 

"  And  oh  !  ye  soft-lipped  dealers  in  applause, 
Resound  the  dews  of  mercy  as  they  fall, 
To  crown  him  famous,  Charity's  own  child  ; 
And  why  ?  she  pays  a  penalty  for  sin, 
And  bribes  the  conscience,  while  it  gilds  a  name" — 

et  What  fancy-shipwreck  overwhelms  the  soul? 
What  billows  ever  rocking  in  the  brain  ?" — 

"  The  One  did  glance  the  blue  immensity 
Above  with  a  majestic  gaze" — 


216  Mr.  Robert  Montgomery,  and  [AuG. 

"  Crime 

Hath  paid  atonement  to  the  law  of  life, 
And  agonized  o'er  that  which  is  to  come" — 

"  For  some  can  dare  the  prisoned  mind  unbar, 
And  glance  unearthliness  behind  the  veil 
That  mantles  their  mortality" — 

"  He  rebuked^ 
The  ocean  calming  at  his  fearful  glance" — 

"  Approving  smiles  from  such  as  thee" — 

"  The  sun-faced  morn  comes  gliding  o'er  the  waves, 
That  billow  dancingly  to  wear  her  smile" — 

"  This  ebbing  music  all  uncharmed  some  feel, 
While  others,  in  its  wafting  decadence, 
Hear  dream-like  echoes." 

Throughout  his  works  Mr.  Montgomery  seems  not  to  have  the  slightest 
notion  of  the  difference  between  the  transitive  and  intransitive  verb. 
He  makes  as  many  blunders  in  his  English,  as  Mr.  Clarkson  has  made 
in  his  Latin  grammar.  In  fact,  he  has  yet  to  study  the  first  rules  of  Syn- 
tax, which  we  hope  he  will  manage  to  get  by  heart  before  he  next 
attempts  to  rival  Milton.  A  little  grammar  is  a  great  recommendation  to 
a  poet.  In  one  of  the  above  extracts,  Mr.  Montgomery  talks  of  "  the 
earth  agonizing"  (instead  of  being  agonized) ;  evidently  unconscious 
that  to  agonize  is  an  active,  not  a  neuter  verb.  In  the  same  sense,  he 
uses  the  phrases,  "  the  waves  billow  dancingly" — "  the  blood  danced 
beauty/'  &c.  Still  more  deplorable  is  his  ignorance  when  he  speaks 
of  "  the  wafting  decadence"  of  music ; — as  if  the  decadence  (that  is, 
the  falling  tones  of  melody)  had  in  itself  any  power  of  wafting.  The 
word  should  be,  "  wafted."  Of  tawdry  epithets  our  poet  is  a  most 
abundant  coiner.  He  "  misuses  the  king's  English  most  damnably." 
Such  terms  as  "  insinuous" — "  fictious" — "  blasphemeful" — "  regretful" 
— -"  unheedful"— "  museful"— -"  dareful"— "  voiceful"— "  sceneful"— 
"  pangless" — "  fameless" — "  play  some"  —  "  gay  some" — "  gamesome" — 
ff  darksome" — "  delightsome" — "  thundry" — "  empeopled" — "  regioned" 
— "  dungeoned  in  prison" — "  victimize,"  and  so  forth,  are  but  a  few 
among  hundreds  of  others  with  which  Mr.  Montgomery  has  thought  fit 
to  embellish  Satan.  Of  bombast,  he  is  a  no  less  celebrated  professor, 
more  so,  indeed,  than  the  great  Tom  Thumb  himself.  We  subjoin  a 
specimen  or  two.  Wishing  simply  to  inform  us  that  Egypt  is  sultry,  he 
tells  us  it  is  a  country 

"  Where  hot  suffusion  suffocates  the  winds." 

Bombastes  Furioso,  as  the  reader  may  perhaps  recollect,  desires  a  coach 
to  be  called  in  the  same  sonorous  style  : — 

"  Go  call  a  coach,  and  let  a  coach  be  called, 
And  let  the  man  that  calls  it  be  the  waiter  ; 
And  in  his  calling  let  him  nothing  call 
But  coach — coach — coach ! — Oh,  for  a  coach,  ye  gods  !" 

The  firing  of  cannon  is  thus  described :— - 

"  The  cannon- thunder  chased  the  daunted  winds." — 
Imagine  the  noise  of  the  firing  running  after  the  winds,  and  the  latter 


1830:]  Mr.  Edward  Clarkson.  217 

frightened  out  of  their  wits  by  the  explosion  !  Remorse  is  defined  as  an 
hour  when 

"  Condemnation  stares  the  spirit  back." 

Mr.  Montgomery  is  very  fond  of  staring,  as  we  have  already  shewn  in 
his  "  millions  of  eyes"  staring  up  at  the  conflagration  of  the  world.  The 
above  passage  will  make  his  readers  stare  also. — A  battle  is  thus  por- 
trayed : — 

"  The  clarions  ring,  the  banners  chafe  the  breeze  ; 
Earth  trembles  to  the  haughty-footed  steeds, 
And  cannons  thunder  till — the  clouds  are  thrilled; 
Then  comes  your  hero  sprinkled  with  a  shower 
Of  blood  !"— 

Without  questioning  the  chaste  simplicity  of  this  description,  we  will 
just  beg  leave  to  remind  its  author,  that  banners  do  not  usually  chafe  the 
breeze ;  it  is  the  breeze  that  chafes  the  banners.  In  a  similar  strain  of 
absurdity,  we  are  assured  that  wisdom  is  "  templed  in  the  shrines  of 
old  ;"  i.  e.  the  whole  is  enclosed  in  the  part.  Surely,  it  should  be  wis- 
dom shrined  in  the  temples ! — Merchant-vessels  Mr.  Montgomery 
describes  as, 

"  Daunting  the  winds,  and  dancing  o'er  the  waves." 
Of  London,  we  are  informed  that  it  is  a  place 

te  of  wonderful  array  of  domes, 
In  dusky  masses  staring  at  the  skies." 

A  storm  is  portrayed  as  follows  : — 

ff  A  thousand  thunder-wombs  the  sky  oppress  j — 
The  sea  is  waved  with  glory  !  billows  heave 
Their  blackness  in  the  wind,  and  bounding  on 
In  vaulting  madness,  beat  the  rocky  shore, 
Incessant  flaking  it  with  plumy  foam  !" 

Mercy  on  us,  what  an  extraordinary  storm  ! — Besides  his  grammatical 
blunders,  his  bombast,  and  his  affectation  in  coining  new  phrases  and 
idioms,  Mr.  Montgomery  is  very  fond  of  repeating  particular  expres- 
sions. This  we  should  not  object  to,  were  they  not  reiterated  usque  ad 
nauseam.  The  words  "  vision" — "  tone" — and  "  billow,"  seem  to  be 
his  chief  favourites.  We  have  them  in  every  possible  variety  of  inflexion, 
as  verb,  substantive,  participle  ;  like  Panurge's  mutton,  which  was  made 
to  answer  the  turn  of  beef,  lamb,  veal,  and  wild  fowl. 

The  word  "  sumptuous"  is  another  of  Mr.  Montgomery's  pet- 
phrases.  Thus  we  have  "  sumptuous  array" — "  sumptuous  in  decay" — 
"  sumptuous  arts" — "  sumptuous  corn-fields" — "  sumptuous  robes" — 
together  with  many  other  "  sumptuous"  specimens  of  nonsense  which 
we  have  neither  space  nor  inclination  to  enumerate.  As  a  plagiarist, 
Mr.  Montgomery  is  freer  from  blame  in  Satan  than  in  his  Omnipresence. 
Still  even  here  he  is  not  wholly  faultless.  The  hint  of  his  lines  on  a 
cathedral  (p.  333)  is  taken  from  a  similar  passage  in  Congreve's  Mourn- 
ing Bride ;  while  the  tersely-expressed  sentiment  of  Porteus  in  his 
Seatonian  prize  poem  on  Death  — 

"  One  murder  makes  a  villain, 
Millions  a  hero," 

is  paraphrased  in  this  vapid,  declamatory  style  :— 

"Mean  crimes  are  branded  with  avenging  scorn, 

While  great  ones,  that  should  water  earth  with  tears, 
Oft  dazzle  condemnation  into  praise." 
M,M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  56.  2  E 


218  Mr.  Robert  Montgomery,  and  [Auo. 

Our  readers  may  here  exclaim,  "  if  Mr.  Montgomery's  poems  be  so 
secondary  in  point  of  merit,  as  you  have  attempted  to  prove,  how  is  it 
that  they  have  gained  such  notoriety  ?"  We  answer,  by  the  most  flagrant 
system  of  puffing  ever  yet  invented  by  the  fertile  genius  of  a  bibliopole. 
No  sooner  had  the  first  impression  (about  250)  of  the  "  Omnipresence/' 
sold  off,  than  an  evangelical  Magazine  taking  its  cue  from  a  weekly  news- 
paper, instantly  put  forth  a  portrait  of  the  author,  without  his  cravat,  accom-t 
panied  by  a  vague  but  outrageously  flattering  memoir.  This  was  followed 
up  by  a  statement  ostentatiously  trumpeted  about  in  the  daily  prints,  to 
the  effect  that  Mr.  Montgomery  was  only  in  his  twenty-first  year,  and 
that  consequently  he  was  a  prodigy.  While  the  astonishment  at  this: 
intelligence  was  yet  rife  in  the  public  mind,  a  large  quarto  volume  was 
announced  under  the  title  of  "  a  Universal  Prayer,"  &c.  whose  value  was 
to  be  enhanced  by  a  likeness  of  the  writer,  "  engraved  by  Thompson, 
after  a  painting  by  Hobday."  No  sooner  had  this  appeared,  than  the 
original  was  exhibited  also  at  Somerset-House,  wherein  the  "modern  Mil- 
ton" was  portrayed  in  his  favourite  attitude  of  "  staring"  up  at  the  skies 
from  the  top  of  a  huge  rock  which  looked  uncommonly  like  the  outside  of 
an  omnibus.  Such  seasonable  quackery  kept  Mr.  Montgomery  before 
the  public  mind  until  his  Satan  was  advertised,  when  we  were  informed 
day  after  day,  by  a  series  of  adroit  paragraphs  thrust  into  the  town  and 
country  papers ,  first,  that  Milton  had  received  only  fifteen  pounds  for 
his  Paradise  Lost,  and  Mr.  Montgomery  eight  hundred  for  his  Satan  : 
secondly,  that  the  aforesaid  Satan  had  arrived  in  Glasgow  by  the  mail 
coach ;  thirdly,  that  the  Omnipresence  had  been  set  to  the  music  of  .an 
Oratorio ;  (pray  who  was  the  composer  ?)  fourthly,  that  in  consequence 
of  an  unprecedented  demand  among  schoolmasters,  it  was  to  be  pub- 
lished separately  as  a  text-book  for  the  use  of  little  boys  j  fifthly,  that 
Mr.  Montgomery  was  the  true  religious  poet  of  England,  and  that  all 
who  found  fault  with  his  works  were  infidels ;  and,  sixthly,  that  he  had 
entered  himself  a  member  of  Lincoln  College,  Oxford  !  Lastly,  by  way 
of  wind-up,  appeared  the  present  pamphlet,  in  which  he  was  at  once 
unblushingly  compared  to  Milton !  He  is  a  Milton :  but  it  is  a 
Brummagem  one  !  Besides  all  this  noisy  trumpeting,  in  every  shape, 
in  every  fashion,  in  every  print,  great  or  small,  daily,  weekly,  or 
monthly,  wherever  a  puff  or  a  paragraph  could  be  inserted  for  love  or 
money,  the  works  of  Montgomery  were  thrust  before  the  public.  In 
fact,  the  only  place  where  they  have  not  yet  made  their  appearance,  is 
on  the  walls  about  the  metropolis.  We  are  not  without  hopes,  however, 
of  shortly  seeing  "  Buy  Montgomery's  Satan"  take  the  wall  of"  Warren's 
Blacking." 

Do  we  accuse  the  "  heliacal  emersion"  himself  of  conniving  at  this 
bare-faced,  this  unparalleled  quackery  ?  Far  from  it,  we  should  hope 
that  he  has  too  much  manly  pride  and  dignity  of  character  knowingly 
to  permit  it.  But  why  does  he  allow  it  still  to  continue  ?  Why  does 
he  allow  himself  to  be  made  the  ladder  on  which  an  enterprising  book- 
seller mounts  up  to  the  Paradise  of  profit  ?  Above  all,  why  does  he 
allow  his  flatterers  to  ascribe  that  success  to  his  genius  alone,  which  is 
the  almost  inevitable  result  of  shrewd,  seasonable,  and  persevering  puf- 
fing ?  Why  does  he  not  step  forth  in  print  modestly  and  without  blus- 
ter, like  Mrs.  Hemans,  Mrs.  Shelley,  Miss  Bowles  (that  sweet  and 
retiring  poetess !),  Mr.  Reade,  Mr.  Banim,  Mr.  Crowe — and,  like 
these  superior  writers,  suffer  his  talent  to  speak  trumpet- tongued  for 
itself?  We  will  tell  him  why  he  does  not.  Because  his  genius  is  not 
strong  enough.  It  is  a  poor  ricketty  bantling ;  it  cannot  run  alone, 


1830.]  Mr,  Edward  Clarkson.  219 

so  needs  the  go-cart  and  penny-trumpet  of  puffing  to  help  and 
cheer  it  along.  Mr.  Montgomery  is  not  devoid  of  fancy ;  he  has 
feeling  sometimes,  occasionally  even  richness  of  language  ;  and  assuredly, 
as  we  have  shown,  a  talent  for  describing  such  scenes  as  may  happen 
to  make  an  impression  on  his  mind.  But  he  cannot  grapple  with  such 
mighty  subjects  as  the  Deity  or  the  Devil.  They  are  far — far  above  his 
reach.  It  is  not  for  the  dwarf  to  presume  to  bend  the  bow  of  Ulysses. 

We  will  close  this  long,  and  it  has  been  to  us  painful,  criticism  with 
an  anecdote  which  we  hope  the  "  modern  Milton"  will  not  think  be- 
neath his  notice.  It  can  do  him  no  harm,  and  may  possibly  be  produc- 
tive of  good.  In  the  old  days  of  Greece,  there  dwelt  near  Elis  a  vain 
but  rather  talented  young  mechanic  named  Salmoneus,  who  fancying  that 
he  had  some  taste  for  the  sublime,  took  it  into  his  head  one  day  that  by 
an  art  peculiar  to  himself,  he  could  rival  the  thunders  of  the  Olympian 
Jupiter.  Accordingly,  he  built  a  brazen  bridge,  over  which,  at  night- 
fall, he  went  clattering  along  in  a  brazen  chariot,  shouting  and  bawling 
at  the  very  top  of  a  voice  which  was  by  no  means  like  a  zephyr,  either 
in  tone  or  quality.  For  a  while  the  trick  passed  unnoticed  ;  it  was  even 
applauded  by  some  dull  blockheads,  one  of  whom  wrote  a  pamphlet  to 
prove  that  Salmoneus  was  a  genuine  Jupiter ;  but  coming  at  length  to 
the  ears  of  the  local  authorities,  they  instituted  a  strict  inquiry,  detected 
the  absurd  imposture,  and  the  mock-thunderer,  despite  his  brass,  of 
which  it  has  been  shown  that  he  had  plenty,  was  at  once  brought 
down  to  his  fitting  level,  and  made,  for  at  least  two  seasons,  the  public 
laughing-stock  of  the  city  ! 

THE    BOWER  ;    A    VAUXHALL    VIEW. 

WE  do  not  mean  by  "  The  Bower,"  that  summer  sanctuary,  that 
sylvan  asylum,  that  cool  sequestered  seat,  where,  shadowed  from  the 
heat  of  the  sun,  screened  from  observing  eyes,  and  refreshed  by  the 
gentle  odours  emitted  by  every  trailing  leaf,  the  mind  loveth  at  the 
golden  periods  of  the  year  to  luxuriate — forgetting  the  cares  and  tasks 
of  the  world  in  a  quiet  leisure  and  a  happy  oblivion.  Pleasantly — might 
destiny  so  ordain  it — could  we  dilate  upon  that  hallowed  retreat,  the 
temple  of  love  and  youth,  wherein  vows  are  paid,  and  sighs  (which  are 
as  syllables  in  love's  vocabulary)  bespeak  the  sympathizing  spirit,  when 
thy  dictionary,  Dr.  Johnson,  would  be  utterly  inadequate :— ^that 
secluded  study,  whereto  the  student,  enamoured  of  the  Muse,  directs 
his  lonely  step  at  morn  or  eve — composing  melodies  that  will  be  to  him 
as  a  monument,  communing  with  the  silent  spirit  of  some  favourite 
book,  or  finding  a  library  even  in  the  leaves  that  fall  or  wave  around 
him.  But  it  is  not  for  us  to  speak  of  these  things ;  they  are  fruits 
whereof  we  are  forbidden  to  pluck.  The  Bower  that  we  allude  to,  is 
not  that  wherein  hearts  and  promises  are  sometimes  broken,  which  birds 
delight  to  haunt,  and  bards  to  describe.  No,  it  is  merely  a  human 
being,  a  living  bower — an  acquaintance  most  probably  of  the  reader's;-— 
we  mean,  in  short — the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies  at  Vauxhall  Gardens  ! 

Spirit  of  farce  and  fun,  come  not  upon  our  pen  !  Keep  thou  at  a 
serious  distance — lest  the  dignity  of  our  subject  be  lessened  by  thy 
levity.  We  would  be  accurate,  not  extravagant,  in  our  portrait ;  for  the 
original  must  be  known  to  many.  Few  that  have  visited  Vauxhall,  lofty 
or  vulgar,  in  the  days  of  its  splendour  or  its  gloom,  but  have  seen  him 
arrayed  in  his  glory.  "  Oh  !"  saith  the  anticipating  reader,  "  I  think  I 
know  whom  you  allude  to.  Does  he  not  wear  a  sable  suit,  of  Warren- 

2  E  2 


220  The  Bower;  a  Vauxhall  View.  £AuG. 

like- hue,  though  not  of  Stultz-like  cut?  Has  he  not  a  waistcoat  white 
as  once  was  Dignum's,  with  a  perpetual  black  ribbon  streaming  down 
it,  like  a  dark  torrent  down  a  mountain  of  snow  ?  Do  not  the  skirts  of 
his  coat  divide,  as  they  fall,  into  the  form  of  an  A  ?  Are  there  not  fifty 
cravats  on  his  neck,  and  fifty  winters  on  his  head  ?" — Enough ;  we 
perceive  that  the  reader  hath  observed  him ;  he  hath  noted  the  silver 
hair  and  buckles,  the  invariable  white  gloves  and  politeness,  the  un- 
blemished.  waistcoat  and  manners,  of  our  amiable  acquaintance.  He 
hath  descried  the  small  smart  cane,  the  spacious  and  seemly  cravat,  the 
precise,  yet  easy  and  graceful  carriage,  of  our  kind  and  accomplished 
friend.  But  perhaps  he  does  not  know  the  heart  of  the  mystery  that 
surrounds  him — perhaps  he  does  not  suspect  that  there  is  any  mystery 
at  all.  While  taking  his  supper,  he  has  seen  a  gentleman  appear  sud- 
denly at  the  entrance  of  the  box,  with  a  profound  and  perfect  bow — 
something  that  has  escaped  the  wreck  of  the  last  century — a  reminiscence 
of  the  year  1730.  He  has  at  first  sight  mistaken  him  for  a  sort  of  Sir 
Charles  Grandison  in  little ;  he  has  heard  him  with  a  still  small  voice 
inquire  if  any  addition  could  be  made  to  the  comforts  of  the  party— -if 
any  thing  was  wished  for — if  the  wines  were  satisfactory,  or  the  punch 
pleasant ;  he  has  observed  him  decline  the  glass  which  had  been  poured 
out  and  handed  to  him,  with  a  well-bred  and  courteous  air ;  and  then, 
with  a  bow  and  a  smile,  he  has  seen  him  depart.  But  this  is  all  that  he 
has  seen — and  yet  this  is  nothing. 

Where  then  is  the  mystery  ?  It  consists  partly  in  the  smile  and  the 
bow  ;  not  so  much,  indeed,  in  their  quality  as  in  their  continuity.  He 
never  seems  to  leave  off — they  are  always  ready  made — he  keeps  them 
perpetually  by  him  fit  for  use.  It  is  a  smile  without  an  end — a  bow  that  has 
no  finis.  If  you  see  him  in  an  erect  position — and  he  is  sometimes  parti- 
cularly perpendicular — the  very  instant  that  he  catches  your  eye  he 
changes  it  to  its  more  natural  figure,  a  curve.  One  would  almost  say 
that,  from  the  commencement  to  the  end  of  the  season,  his  body  is  not 
straight,  his  lips  never  in  repose,  for  two  minutes  together.  Whatever 
is  said,  whatever  is  done — he  bows.  He  would  bow  to  the  beggar 
whom  he  relieved,  and  (fortune  shield  him  from  such  a  mishap  !)  to  the 
sheriffs-officer  that  arrested  him.  Not  knowing  wrho  he  is,  you  com- 
plain, a  little  angrily,  perhaps,  of  the  tough  or  transitory  nature  of 
the  fowls — of  the  visionary  character  of  the  ham,  that  does  not  even 
disguise  or  render  doubtful  the  pattern  of  the  plate  ;  he  bows  obligingly, 
and  beckons  to  a  waiter.  It  being  rather  dark,  you  upset  a  bottle  of 
port,  some  of  which  sprinkles  his  white  gloves  and  waistcoat,  and  the 
rest  goes  into  his  polished  pumps  ; — he  smiles  as  if  you  had  conferred  a 
favour  on  him,  and  bows  himself  dry  again.  As  he  stands  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  box,  some  boorish  Bacchanalian  brushing  by,  thrusts  him 
against  the  edge  of  the  table,  or  presses  his  hat  over  his  eyes ; — he  turns 
round  quietly,  readjusts  his  injured  hat,  smiles  with  the  graceful  supe- 
riority of  a  gentleman,  and  (it  seems  scarcely  credible)  bows !  That 
bow  must  have  sometimes  administered  a  severe  though  a  silent  reproof 
to  the  ill-mannered  and  the  intemperate.  Yorick  would  have  made 
something  of  it  had  he  met  it  in  France — it  is  not  understood  here. 

But  the  smile  and  the  bow  are  not  all.  There  is  more  mystery.  We 
want  to  know — it  may  seem  curious  to  some — but  we  want  to  know 
where  he  goes  to  when  he  leaves  the  box.  We  shall  of  course  be  answered, 
—to  the  next.  But  when  he  has  visited  them  all,  what  becomes  of  him 
then?  Since  we  projected  the  idea  of  perpetrating  this  imperfect 
apostrophe  to  his  worth,  we  have  inquired  in  all  quarters ;  but  have 
scarcely  found  a  single  person  that  ever  met  him  in  the  walks.  He  is 


1830.]  The  Bower  ;  a  Vauxliall  View.  221 

there,  sometimes,  of  course — yet  is  seldom  seen  but  at  supper-time,  as 
if  he  were  a  sprite  conjured  up  by  indigestion  and  head-ache.  You 
enter  the  box,  and  up  jumps  Jack.  You  sit  down,  and  there  he  is  ;  you 
get  up,  and  he  is  gone.  He  may  spring  from  under  the  table,  or  drop 
from  one  of  the  lamps,  for  any  thing  you  can  tell.  He  may  be  brought 
in,  like  Asmodeus,  in  a  bottle  ;  he  may  hide  himself,  like  care,  at  the 
bottom  of  a  bowl.  You  only  know  that  there  he  stands,  hoping  you 
are  comfortable,  and  bowing  you  into  good-humour  with  an  expensive 
supper.  But  catch  him  in  the  walks  afterwards,  if  you  can ;  you  go 
into  them  all,  whether  dark  or  dazzling,  without  finding  him.  At  last, 
you  determine  to  sup  a  second  time,  by  way  of  experiment — just  to 
solve  the  mystery  and  to  see  whether  he  will  make  his  appearance.  It 
is  served  up — and  the  very  next  minute  he  is  asking  you  the  age  of 
your  fowl,  and  trusting  that  it  is  tender. 

But  the  most  extraordinary  fact  remains  to  be  told  ;  "  the  greatest  is 
behind."  During  the  season  he  is  indefatigable  in  his  attendance.  He 
is  never  a  minute  too  late,  or  a  step  out  of  the  way.  He  seems  to  grow 
in  the  gardens  like  one  of  the  trees.  But  the  instant  the  season  closes, 
he  disappears ;  and  is  never  seen  again  till  the  hour  of  its  recommence- 
ment the  next  year.  No  human  being  could  ever  guess  where  he  goes  to. 
The  visitors  retire,  the  lamps  are  extinguished,  and  he  takes  his  leave. 
He  and  the  lights  go  out  together ;  he  melts,  like  Ossian's  heroes,  into 
mist.  He  quits  his  suburban  sitting-room,  places  a  receipt  for  his  rent 
in  his  pocket-book,  makes  a  conclusive  and  valedictory  bow  to  his 
landlady,  and  becomes  a  query,  a  conundrum — the  most  undiscoverable 
of  riddles — the  most  marvellous  of  absentees.  The  proprietors  have  no 
knowledge  of  his  whereabout;  they  are  sure  of  seeing  him  in  time  for  the 
re-opening,  and  give  themselves  no  further  trouble  on  the  subject.  If 
he  should  not  appear  the  first  night,  when  "  God  save  the  King" 
commences,  he  is  no  longer  a  tenant  of  this  world ;  if  living,  there  he 
will  be  found.  Never  wss  he  known  to  fail.  Faithful  to  the  moment, 
in  he  walks,  apparently  in  the  same  white  waistcoat,  as  if  it  had  been 
washed  in  Juno's  bath,  and  endowed  with  perpetual  purity  and  youth. 
His  cane  looks  as  if  it  had  been  wrapt  up  in  cotton  since  last  season. 
He  taps  at  the  door,  touches  his  hat,  and  offers  the  usual  compliments 
to  the  "  honoured  and  worthy  proprietors."  Like  the  bulletin  of  a 
battle,  a  brilliant  illumination  follows  his  appearance.  He  is  the  most 
punctual  of  periodicals — the  Vauxhall  Annual.  People  know  the  period 
of  the  year,  by  his  coming ; — one  swallow  makes  not  a  summer,  but 
he  does.  The  migrations  of  birds  have  given  rise  to  many  curious 
speculations,  and  have  puzzled  the  zoologists  of  all  ages — some  con- 
jecturing that  they  lie  for  months  at  the  bottoms  of  pools  and  rivers,  and 
other  impossible  places.  We  should  like  to  know  what  natural  phi- 
losophy has  to  say  to  the  migration  we  have  recorded,  and  whether 
there  is  any  chance  of  discovering  the  winter  quarters  of  our  venerable 
friend — the  crysalis  of  our  summer  visitor.  Is  he  asleep  for  the  rest 
of  the  year?  Does  he  hide  himself  in  a  nut-shell  at-home,  or  travel 
to  the  Indies  and  back  ?  Does  he  take  an  excursion  in  a  balloon  for  a 
few  months,  or  creep  for  security  into  the  corner  of  a  poor-box  ?  But 
the  subject  baffles  conjecture  ;  all  speculation  is  idle.  It  is  one  of  those 
secrets  that  most  probably  will  never  be  divulged. 

Wheresoever  he  goes,  we  trust  that  he  may  long  experience,  during 
the  drearier  seasons  of  the  year,  the  courtesies  and  urbanity  he  extends 
to  others  in  the  merrier  one  ;  and  that,  like  the  best  blacking,  he  may 
retain  his  virtues  in  any  climate.  B. 


[  222  ]  [AuG. 

NOTES  OF  THE  MONTH  ON  AFFAIRS  IN  GENERAL. 

That  wretched  creature  Lethbridge  has  given  up  Somerset.  THere 
is  justice  for  apostates  even  on  this  earth ;  and  scorn  and  disappoint- 
ment have  been  the  first  reward  of  those  who  swallowed  their  words,  and 
voted  for  what  Peel  had  at  once  the  hardihood  and  the  folly  to  term 
a  "  breach  of  the  Constitution !"  Lethbridge  stands  no  more  for  the 
county  which  he  represented  when  he  was  an  advocate  for  the  Pro- 
testant Constitution;  always  a  clumsy,  a  vulgar,  and  a  blundering 
advocate,  we  must  allow ;  but  still  we  passed  over  his  foolery  for  the 
sake  of  what  we  supposed  his  sincerity.  But  the  time  of  trial  came, 
and  showed  what  a  miserable  creature  he  was.  However,  now  let  him 
hide  his  head  where  he  can :  for  he  will  not  be  suffered  to  hide  it  in 
Somersetshire.  "  Sic  pereant."  So  sink  every  man  of  that  set,  who, 
after  years  of  vehement  protestation,  suddenly  abandoned  every  pledge, 
and  kissed  the  dust  at  the  feet  of  the  minister. 

And  one  of  the  pleasantest  parts  of  this  retributive  justice  is,  that 
those  men  have  got  not  one  iota  of  the  good  things  of  government ; — not 
a  peerage,  nor  a  baronetcy,  not  a  knighthood.  Their  virtue  has  been 
its  own  reward — and  a  more  fitting  reward  it  could  not  have.  They 
have  been  turned  out  of  their  seats ;  and  the  best  and  the  worst  we 
wish  them  is  the  perpetual  consciousness  of  their  fall ! 

After "  all  the  difficulties  started  against  the  new  street  from  Waterloo 
Bridge  to  the  North  Road,  there  is  now  some  chance  of  its  completion. 
Sir  J.  Yorke  has  lately  presided  at  a  meeting  of  the  Waterloo  Bridge 
Directors,  in  which  they  came  to  the  resolution  of  advancing  £5,000. 
for  the  beginning  of  the  work.  The  estimate  is  £43,000.,  of  which 
Government  have  offered  £25,000,  and  the  Duke  of  Bedford  gives 
£4,000.  His  letter  to  the  Chairman  expresses  his  gratification  at  the 
probable  completion  of  the  opening.  The  street  is  to  lead  up  through 
the  former  site  of  the  Lyceum  to  Charles- street,  and  thence  by  Gower- 
street  to  the  New  Road.  But  this  must  be  a  work  of  time.  The  imme- 
diate improvement  will  go  no  farther  than  Charles-street.  The  Duke 
of  Bedford's  politics  are  not  calculated  to  do  him  honour  with  the  coun- 
try. But  it  is  only  justice  to  acknowledge  that  he  is  a  friend  to  public 
improvements ;  and  that  he  lays  out  his  money  readily  where  the  fair 
opportunity  of  public  good  is  shown.  The  new  street  will  doubtless 
increase  the  value  of  his  property  in  the  neighbourhood  j  but  it  is  not 
every  great  proprietor  who  has  the  sense  to  see  even  his  own  interest  in 
such  efforts.  And  the  Duke  deserves  the  credit  of  good  sense,  and  even 
of  generosity,  on  this  occasion,  as  indeed  he  has  done  in  many  others  of 
the  same  kind. 

We  have  at  length  got  rid  of  the  Parliament,  for  which  we  thank  the 
stars  !  We  have  got  rid  of  the  Parliament,  that  compound  of  lofty  pro- 
mise and  beggarly  performance,  of  insolent  dictatorship  and  paltry 
intrigue,  of  boasted  defence  of  the  Constitution,  and  abandonment  of  all 
the  objects  for  which,  as  Englishmen,  we  can  feel  any  value !  What  has 
the  Parliament  effected  ?  Nothing.  It  had  promised  a  revisal  of  the 
Criminal  Laws.  What  has  it  done  there  beyond  compressing  a  multi- 
tude of  foolish  and  useless  old  statutes  into  a  mass  of  foolish  and  useless 
new  ones? — It  promised  a  reduction  in  the  public  burthens.  But  the 
subject  is  taxed  not  a  shilling  less  than  he  was  at  its  commencement ;  for 
the  apparent  abolition  has  always  been  followed  by  some  compensating 
burthen. — It  promised  to  extinguish  the  abuses  of  the  Pension  list — 


1830.]  Notes  of  the  Month  on  Affairs  in  General.  223 

the  Sinecure  list — the  collection  of  the  revenue — and  the  perpetual 
waste  of  public  money  in  all  departments  of  the  state.  And  what  has  it 
done  ?  It  has  reduced  the  pittance  of  the  lower  orders  of  clerks  in  the 
public  offices ;  but  it  has  spared  all  the  great  sinecurists  and  pensioners. 
Lord  Melville  still  enjoys  his  Scotch  £3,000.  a  year;  Lord  Rosslyn 
enjoys  another  £3,000.  a  year ;  the  privy  council  still  share  among  them- 
selves their  £161,000.  a  year  ;  and  the  whole  aifair  goes  on  undisturbed 
by  the  loss  of  ar  single  shilling — the  whole  being  sinecures  !  Two  young 
gentlemen,  Messrs.  Dundas  and  Bathurst,  sons  of  the  man  at  the  Admi- 
ralty, and  the  man  at  the  privy  council,  were  cruelly  stript  of  their  little 
sinecures  to  the  amount  of  £800.  a  year  each.  But  this  was  not  done 
by  ministers,  who  have  naturally  some  bowels  of  compassion  for  their 
boys,  but  by  the  public,  who  have  to  pay  those  blooming  sinecurists. 
They  however  will  not  be  the  worse  for  the  loss,  it  will  be  made  up  to 
them  in  some  quiet  way,  and  they  will  be  at  once  "  suffering  loyalists" 
and  snug  pensioners. 

For  all  the  valuable  purposes  of  a  Parliament,  the  last  was  perfectly 
useless.  It  encouraged  no  part  of  the  national  industry,  no  arts,  no 
increase  of  public  knowledge ;  it  gave  no  additional  purity  to  the  man- 
ners of  the  people,  no  additional  honour  to  religion  ;  it  administered 
nothing  to  loyalty,  to  literature,  or  virtue ;  it  diminished  none  of  the 
public  difficulties,  and  none  of  the  public  debts ;  it  added  nothing  to 
our  celebrity  abroad,  or  to  our  comforts  at  home ;  it  suffered  English 
influence  on  the  Continent  to  decay,  our  friends  to  struggle  for  them- 
selves, our  Allies  to  be  broken  down,  and  our  Enemies  to  be  raised  to  the 
summit  of  power.  At  home  it  suffered  the  rise  of  a  faction  hostile  to 
the  constitution  ;  it  suffered  the  growth  of  a  mysterious  power  unrecog- 
nized by  the  constitution  ;  it  substituted  for  Protestant  ascendancy  a 
military  ascendancy ;  it  obeyed  a  cabinet  in  which  there  was  but  one 
voice  audible ;  a  cabinet  of  clerks,  with  no  choice  but  that  of  submis- 
sion. A  cabinet  in  which  sat  Peel,  Goulburn,  Herries,  and  Lyndhurst, 
all  eminent  only  for  swallowing  their  words,  and  all  utterly  dependent 
on  the  will  of  their  master  ! 

But,  in  recompense  for  all  these  shames,  the  Parliament  gave  us  a 
police,  a  regular  gendarmerie,  communicating  only  with  the  Horse-Guards. 
It  abolished  the  constitutional  defence  of  the  state,  the  yeomanry  and 
militia,  while  it  kept  up  an  army  of  ninety  thousand  men,  in  the 
midst  of  a  profound  peace,  after  a  fifteen  years  peace,  and  with  the 
strongest  assurances  from  the  throne  that  the  peace  was  in  no  danger  of 
being  disturbed. 

Its  grand  effort  was  the  Catholic  question,  by  which,  after  the  lapse 
of  one  hundred  and  thirty  years  of  British  prosperity  and  British  free- 
dom, expressly  founded  upon  the  exclusion  of  the  papist  from  making 
laws  for  the  coercion  of  the  Protestant,  the  papist  was  brought  into 
the  legislature — a  fierce  faction  which  had  perpetually  threatened  the 
church  and  throne  of  England  with  ruin,  and  which  was,  for  centuries, 
openly  leagued  with  its  enemies,  was  thus  empowered  to  perplex  and 
overthrow  the  constitution  in  whatever  public  exigency  it  shall  suit  the 
purposes  of  a  profligate  party,  prince,  or  minister,  to  purchase  it,  or  of  a 
foreign  papist  throne  to  introduce  confusion  by  its  hired  agency  into 
the  legislature,  or  of  its  native  fanaticism  to  rebel  against  the  laws 
and  principles  of  the  legislature. 

With  those  recollections  of  the  services  of  the  last  Parliament,  of  its 
having  lost  England  her  rank  among  nations,  of  its  having  alienated  the 
hearts  of  the  people  from  all  public  men,  and  of  its  having  at  once  dis- 
gusted the  Irish  Protestants,  the  only  strength  of  England  in  Ireland, 


224  Notes  of  the  Month  on  Affairs  in  General.  QAuo. 

and  given  a  dangerous  power  to  the  Irish  Roman  Catholics,  the  only 
hazardous  part  of  the  Irish  population,  \ve  say  to  the  last  Parliament,  we 
remember  you  with  bitterness  and  contempt,  and  may  England  never 
see  such  another ! 

The  elections  will  shortly  commence,  and  there  will  probably  be  con- 
siderable changes  in  the  representation  of  the  boroughs.  The  counties 
are  too  expensive  for  contests,  and,  therefore,  the  old  members  will  in 
general  remain,  not  from  any  love  or  liking  for  them,  but  from  the 
natural  fear  of  new  candidates  to  plunge  into  their  pockets  for  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  pounds  sterling.  Lord  Milton's  Yorkshire  contest  cost 
each  of  the  parties  120,000/. ;  the  other  counties  have  occasionally  cost 
from  50,000  to  90,000/. :  a  tolerable  sum  for  the  privilege  of  eating  a 
beef-steak  at  the  St.  Stephen's  coffee-house,  and  sleeping  on  the  back 
benches  for  seven  years  together  ! 

Mr.  Serjeant  Wilde  has  again  tried  his  crusade  at  Newark.  The 
Serjeant  is  a  bold  man,  and  certainly  not  easy  to  be  put  out  of  counte- 
nance. We  hope  none  of  the  family  of  his  client,  Jenkins,  are  in  the 
town,  and  that  he  has  not  accompanied  his  placard  by  a  copy  of  the 
solicitor-general's  speech,  or  the  vice-chancellor's  judgment  on  that  trial. 
However,  he  will  be  beaten  as  ignominiously  as  ever,  notwithstanding 
his  new  forensic  glories.  Mr.  Sadler  will  be  the  member ;  and  Newark 
will  have  the  honour,  for  a  high  honour  it  is,  of  returning  a  man  of  great 
ability,  and,  what  is  better,  and  rarer  even  in  this  age  of  mediocrity,  of 
pure  principle  !  No  man  in  the  House  of  Commons  has  risen  to  such 
sudden  and  deserved  distinction  as  Mr.  Sadler.  His  speech  on  the 
Catholic  question  was  the  most  powerful  and  shame-striking  appeal  that 
was  made  in  the  whole  course  of  the  debate  to  a  house  of  apostacy ; 
and  his  public  eloquence  is  more  than  a  casual  display.  No  man  has 
studied  the  topics  on  which  he  speaks  so  profoundly  as  Mr.  Sadler.  He 
speaks  not  from  fluency  of  tongue,  but  from  fulness  of  knowledge,  nor 
more  from  natural  vigour  of  understanding,  than  genuine  Christian 
ardour  of  heart  in  the  good  cause. 

We  look  only  with  ridicule  on  the  lacrymose  procession  of  the  ousted 
voters  of  Newark ;  and  however  sorry  we  may  be  at  their  loss  of  the 
good  things  which  a  contested  election  may  be  generally  supposed  to 
ripen,  we  are  quite  as  well  pleased  to  see  that  they  have  been  turned  out, 
and  that  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  knows  the  difference  between  an 
ungrateful  tenant  and  a  grateful  one,  and  between  the  petty  admirer  of 
Mr.  Serjeant  Wilde  for  reasons  best  understood  by  the  admirer,  and  the 
honest  English  yeoman  who  votes  for  a  man  of  honesty  and  virtue  for 
no  other  reason  than  that  he  respects  honesty  and  virtue.  We  give  the 
Duke  of  Newcastle  credit  for  every  point  of  his  conduct ;  for  his  original 
determination  to  put  down  all  borough  trading,  for  his  manliness  in 
announcing  that  determination  in  utter  scorn  of  the  thousand  scribblers 
who  would,  of  course,  be  up  in  arms  against  such  a  determination,  and 
for  his  firmness  in  persevering  to  the  last.  We  give  him  additional 
credit  for  having,  in  an  age  of  venality,  scorned  to  take  advantage  of  the 
time;  for  having  looked  upon  his  power  only  as  a  means  of  public 
good,  and  of  bringing  into  parliament  thoroughly  honest  and  thoroughly 
able  men ;  for  bringing  in  such  men  as  Sadler,  Wetherall,  and  Attwood, 
and  for  the  determination,  astonishing  as  it  may  sound  in  the  modern 
parliamentary  ear,  of  giving  up  the  great  influence  of  his  name,  of  his 
fortune,  of  his  connexions,  and  of  his  public  and  exemplary  honour, 
wholly  and  solely,  to  the  preservation  of  what  remains  to  us  of  the 
British  constitution. 


1830.]  [    225    ] 

MONTHLY  REVIEW  OF  LITERATURE,  DOMESTIC  AND  FOREIGN. 


Souihey's  Life  of  John  Bunyan,  pre- 
fixed to  a  handsome  Edition  of  Pilgrim's 
Progress — Mr.  Southey  gathers  his  mate- 
rials chiefly  from  Bunyan's  own  narrative  of 
his  spiritual  history,  and  has  told  the  tale 
with  his  usual  felicity,  and  tinged  it,  more- 
over, with  his  own  inveterate  feelings— 
never,  indeed,  refusing  honour  to  talents 
and  character,  but  incapable  of  withholding 
a  sneer  at  aU  deviations  from  established 
tracks.  Bunyan  was  born  at  Elston,  with- 
in a  mile  of  Bedford,  and  followed  his 
father's  trade  of  tinkering — not  a  travelling 
tinker — his  itineracies  were  all  preaching 
ones.  In  his  youth  he  was  a  rude  and 
roystering  fellow — a  blackguard,  as  Mr.  S. 
expressively  terms  him — but  had  early 
visitations  of  conscience  as  to  the  sinfulness 
of  his  course  of  life.  To  listen  to  his  own 
words,  he  was  nothing  but  wickedness, 
though  he  expressly  disclaims  the  sins 
which  most  easily  beset  his  caste,  drunken- 
ness and  libertinage.  A  sharp  reproof  from 
a  poor  woman,  "  no  better  herself  than  she 
should  be,"  put  a  sudden  and  permanent 
stop  to  the  habit  of  common  swearing,  and 
he  rapidly,  as  his  sense  of  decorum  ex- 
tended, threw  off  his  attendance  on  Sunday 
sports,  bell-ringing,  and  dancing.  By  the 
time  he  had  thus  renounced  his  coarser 
pursuits,  he  began  to  think  he  was  so  per- 
fect, nobody  could  please  God  like  him ; 
but  this  self-complacency  was  soon  shaken 
by  the  discourses  of  some  of  GifFord's  fana- 
tic congregation  at  Bedford.  They  quickly 
threw  him  into  alarm,  and  the  steps  from 
confidence  to  despair  were  few  and  fast, 
till  the  recurrence  to  his  thoughts  of  certain 
texts  of  Scripture  recalled  him,  by  degrees, 
to  a  state,  at  the  other  end  of  the  scale,  of 
something  like  beatitude — of  assurance  of 
divine  communications.  When  plunged 
down  to  the  lowest  depths,  the  strange 
fancy  possessed  him — to  sell  his  Saviour — 
the  devil  suggested,  "  Sell  him,  sell  him  ;" 
and  he  escaped  raving  madness  only  by  ex- 
claiming, "  I  will  not,  I  will  not."  His 
reading  of  the  Scriptures  was  never  relaxed, 
and  filled  as  his  mind  was  with  unconnected 
passages,  they  associated  occasionally  with 
his  feelings  in  singular  unions,  and  wrought 
in  him  the  firm  conviction  of  suggestions 
now  by  the  devil,  and  now  by  the  Deity. 
Gifford,  his  master  in  theology,  died  in 
1655,  and  soon  after,  Bunyan  occasionally 
held- forth  in  the  Baptist  chapel,  and  was 
furnished  by  the  elders  with  a  sort  of  roving 
commission  into  the  neighbourhood,  where 
he  laboured  long  and  zealously.  In  1657 
he  was  subjected  to  a  prosecution  ;  for  the 
establishment,  when  Presbyterian,  as  little 
approved  of  intinerancy,  as  when  Episcopa- 
lian after  the  Restoration.  How  he  escaped, 
at  this  period  does  not  appear  ;  but  he  was 
one  of  the  first  victims  of  the  bishops  on 
their  being  replaced.  He  refused  to  give 

M.M.  New  Series VOL.  X.  No.  56. 


up  his  vagrant  preachings,  and  was  thrown 
into  prison  at  Bedford,  where  he  continued 
twelve  year's  ;  but  was  suffered,  through  the 
kindness  of  the  gaoler,  and,  of  course,  the 
connivance  of  the  magistracy,  to  attend 
meetings ;  and  a  year  or  two  before  his 
final  discharge,  he  was  appointed  minister, 
and  suffered  to  act  as  minister  at  the  Bap- 
tist chapel.  He  Uved  sixteen  years  after 
his  release,  though  but  little  is  known  of 
his  after-career,  except  that  he  continued 
connected  with  his  chapel,  and  every  year 
visited  London,  where  he  drew  immense 
congregations.  He  died  at  sixty,  in  the 
year  1688.  Besides  the  Pilgrim's  Progress, 
he  was  the  author  of  the  Holy  War,  not, 
except  in  subject,  at  all  inferior  to  Pilgrim's 
Progress,  and  sundry  controversial  and 
devotional  pieces,  filling  a  couple  of 
folio  volumes.  "  His  connexion  with  the 
Baptists,"  says  Mr.  Southey,  "was  eventually 
most  beneficial  to  him ;  had  it  not  been 
for  the  encouragement  which  he  received 
from  them  he  might  have  lived  and  died  a 
tinker ;  for  even  when  he  cast  off,  like  a 
slough,  the  coarse  habits  of  his  early  life, 
his  latent  powers  could  never,  without  some 
such  encouragement  and  impulse,  have 
broken  through  the  thick  ignorance  with 
which  they  were  incrusted."  Coming  once 
out  of  his  pulpit,  some  of  his  friends  went 
to  shake  hands,  and  tell  him  what  a  sweet 
sermon  he  had  delivered — "  Aye,"  said  he, 
"  you  need  not  remind  me  of  that ;  the 
devil  told  me  of  it  before  I  was  out  of  the 
pulpit." 

The  work  is  handsomely  got  up,  and  con- 
tains several  extraordinary  embellishments 
by  Martin. 

Travels  through  the  Crimea,  Turkey, 
and  Egypt,  in  1825-28,  2  vots.  8vo.,  by  the 
laie  James  Webster,  Esq.,  of  the  Inner 
Temple. — These  are  the  posthumous  papers 
of  a  young  but  very  intelligent  traveller, 
relative,  many  of  them,  to  countries  visited 
of  late  years  by  hundreds,  and  described  by 
scores  ;  whilst  others  concern  regions  less 
frequented,  and  of  course  the  account  is 
more  welcome — such  as  some  parts  of  Po- 
lish Russia  and  the  Crimea.  Mr.  Webster's 
fate  is  a  melancholy  one.  A  Scotchman  by 
birth,  and  educated  at  St.  Andrew's,- he  was 
very  early  distinguished  for  zealous  devo- 
tion to  his  books,  and  for  the  extent  of  his 
acquirements.  Destined  for  the  law,  he 
prosecuted  his  legal  studies  in  London,  and 
at  two-and-twenty  went  to  the  Continent, 
meaning  to  pass  a  twelvemonth  in  visiting 
different  parts  of  Europe,  previously  to 
commencing  his  career  at  the  bar.  As  usual, 
where  the  means  of  indulgence  are  at  hand, 
one  tour  prompted  another,  and  Europe  was 
soon  too  narrow  a  scene  to  bound  his  ex- 
panding views.  He  proceeded  to  Egypt, 
and  after  reaching  the  Cataracts,  and  con- 

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tetnplating  leisurely  the  wonders  of  old, 
right  and  left  of  the  Nile,  accompanied  his 
fellow-traveller,  Mr.  Newnham,  an  artist,  to 
Horeb  and  Sinai,  where  he  fell  ill,  and  died 
soon  after  he  got  back  to  Cairo,  in  1828, 
then  only  twenty-six  years  of  age. 

A  friend  and  fellow-student  has  arranged 
his  papers,  and  prefixed  a  biographical 
sketch,  in  the  course  of  which  he  whines 
woefully,  through  a  number  of  pages,  some- 
tiling  about  talents  and  genius,  in  our 
worthless  state  of  society,  standing  no 
chance  of  competing  with  rank  and  riches—- 
intending, apparently,  this  should  apply  to 
his  deceased  friend,  or  perhaps  to  himself; 
but  nothing  could  well  be  less  applicable 
— for  in  the  profession  of  the  law,  actual 
dulness,  however  allied,  rarely  reaches,  and 
never  maintains,  pre-eminence.  If  he  had 
been  talking  of  the  church  or  the  state,  or 
the  army  or  the  navy,  his  remarks  had  been 
something  to  the  purpose. 

While  Mr.  Webster  was  at  Vienna,  the 
news  arrived  of  the  memorable  treaty  of 
the  6th  of  July  ;  and  anticipating  no  very 
welcome  reception  for  Englishmen  at  Con- 
stantinople, he  took  a  circuit  by  the  way  of 
Cracow  to  Odessa,  where  political  circum- 
stances continuing  in  the  same  untoward 
state,  he  made  the  tour  of  the  Crimea ;  and, 
finally,  after  all  his  precaution,  arrived  at 
Constantinople,  the  very  day  in  which  news 
of  the  battle  of  Navarino  reached  the  Porte. 
There  was,  however,  in  reality,  no  danger, 
though  he  quotes  Mr.  Stratford  Canning  as 
authority  for  the  Sultan's  actually  meditat- 
ing Violence  on  the  first  intelligence.  The 
Greek  cause,  of  course,  occupies  much  of 
his  remarks,  and  no  man  can  be  more  de- 
cided as  to  the  worthlessness  of  the  Greeks, 
and  the  folly,  or  rather  the  atrocity,  of  Mr. 
Canning's  treaty.  Mr.  W.  left  England, 
like  all  young  men,  with  extravagant  pre- 
possessions in  favour  of  the  oppressed  de- 
scendants of  Classic  Greece  ;  but  a  little 
actual  intercourse  and  personal  knowledge 
soon  converted  admiration  into  disgust. 

Their  character  is  as  abandoned  as  their  coun- 
try is  desolate.  The  vaunted  valour  of  their  fore- 
fathers has  passed  away,  and,  ere  long,  the  very 
name  of  "  Greek"  will  be  a  by-word  for  all  that 
is  base  and  worthless.  Never  have  the  English 
people  been  so  egregiously  gulled,  both  in  public 
•feeling  and  political  conduct,  as  in  the  instance 
under  consideration,  when  they  destroyed  the 
only  barrier  which  could  be  opposed  to  Russia  in 
the  East,  and  weakened  the  confidence  reposed  in 
them  by  Persia,  which  must  needs  feel  mistrust  at 
so  unaccountable  a  proceeding.  Never  again,  be 
her  measures  what  they  may,  will  England  pos- 
sess that  influence  which  she  has  heretofore  exer- 
cised at  the  Ottoman  court :  years  must  elapse 
before  the  Turks  can  regard  her  in  any  other 
light  than  as  a  faithless  ally,  who  has  forfeited 
all  claims  to  confidence — and  for  what,  and  for 
whom?  For  scoundrels,  who,  while  she  was 
shedding  her  blood  at  Navarino,  were  pillaging 
her  merchants,  and  committing  on  the  bodies  of 
her  captains  and  seamen  acts  of  barbarity  and 
outrage  which  an  Englishman  would  shudder  to 
hear  named.  Might  all  the  vile  qualities  of  de- 


graded human  nature  be  summed  up  in  one  word, 
—ingratitude,  lying,  beastliness,  piracy,  and  mur- 
der— they  could  find  no  more  comprehensive  term 
than  "  a  Greek."  If  any  Englishman  still  re- 
tain the  enthusiastic  and  ridiculous  notions  about 
the  Greeks,  which  have  led  to  such  incalculable 
mischief,  let  him  proceed  to  the  Archipelago 
without  a  convoy.  No  more  efficient  corrective 
needs  be  prescribed  for  his  opinions. 

Remarking  upon  the  popular  delusions 
in  this  country,  he  thus  adverts  to  Lord 
Byron's  conduct  and  writings  :— , 

Nor  should  the  conduct  and  writings  of  Lord 
Byron  be  left  out  of  view,  in  estimating  the 
causes  which  led  to  the  senseless  excitement  in 
favour  of  the  worthless  Greeks.  His  Lordship 
had  travelled  through  the  country,  and  had  seen 
the  Pass  of  Thermopylae  a  haunt  of  banditti ;  he 
had 

"  Stood  upon  the  rocky  brow 

That  looks  o'er  sea-lxorn  Salamis  ;'" 
and  had  seen  the  pirate  vessels  prowling  for  their 
unoffending  prey.  He  had  seen  Pireus  a  port  foi1 
pirates,  and  Egina  a  den  of  thieves.  That  he' 
knew  the  Grecian  character  well,  is  evident;  for 
he  pourtrayed  it  faithfully,  when  telling  the' 
Greeks  that  they  were 

"  Callous,  save  to  crime  ; 
Stained  with  each  evil  that  pollutes 
Mankind,  where'least  above  the  brutes  ; 
Without  even  savage  virtue  blest, 
Without  one  free  or  valiant  breast." 
And  yet,  with  this  knowledge,  he  lent  the  sanction 
of  his  noble  name,  exalted  talents,  and  personal 
endpavour,  to  propagate    the  farce    of  Grecian 
freedom! 

The  desolate  state  in  which  he  found 
Cracow,  and  the  contrast  thus  presented  to 
his  thoughts  of  the  present  state  and  pros- 
pects of  the -Poles  and  Greeks,  drew  forth 
the  following  animated  expressions : — , 

Whilst  the  former  are  subject  to  a  system  of 
unremitting  espionage  and  constraint,  and,  in  re- 
turn for  their  chivalrous  exertions  in  the  cause  of 
Christianity  and  European  freedom,  are  aban- 
doned to  a  merciless  despotism  ;  the  latter,  whoj 
by  their  intrigues  and  pusillanimity,  prepared  the 
way  for  Turkish  invasion, — who  lowered  the  cross 
to  the  crescent, — and  crouched  in  the  very  dust 
beneath  Ottoman  dominion, — who  equal  their  con- 
querors in  fanaticism,  and  exceed  them  in  vice, 
without  partaking  of  one  spark  of  that  honour- 
and  bravery  which  have  ever  distinguished  the 
Turkish  character, — are  held  forth  as  the  inhe- 
ritors of  the  high  spirit  and  patriotism  which 
gave  undying  glory  to  antient  Greece.  Thus, 
the  needy  adventurer  and  Philhellene,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  false  impressions  imbibed  through 
classic  associations,  mislead  the  untravelled  en- 
thusiast ;  and  thus  is  the  fate  of  nations  decided 
by  the  dreaming  influence  of  schoolboy  recollec- 
tions! 

After  these  passages,  we  shall  not  be  sur- 
prised at  his  characterising  the  Triple 
Alliance  in  terms  which,  though  sounding 
harshly,  few  Englishman,  unbiassed  by 
party  views,  will,  after  all,  think  too  se- 
vere. 

The  best  praise  of  the  Turks  may  be  found  in 
the  following  facts,  namely,  that  since  we  had  set 
foot  on  their  territory,  all  the  perils  incidental  to 


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Domestic  and  Foreign. 


227 


European  travelling  had  given  way  to  the  most 
unhoped-for  kindness  and  cordiality— unhoped- 
for, because  we  arrived  from  a  Christian  coun- 
try ;  and  on  the  very  day  of  our  landing;  in  the 
Turkish  capital,  there  camera  fatal  echo  from 
Navarino,  spreading  terror  through  all  the  west, 
and  setting  every  one  on  calculations,  as  to  the 
chances  of  escape  which  his  friend  might  have, 
before  the  rage  of  an  infuriated  mob.  All  this 
while,  we  were  living  quietly  at  Constantinople, 
ov,  from  a  want  of  confidence  in  the  Allies,  were 
alarmed  only  lest  they,  by  new  injuries,  might 
exasperate  the  people  to  madness.  The  spirit  of 
the  treaty  of  alliance  is  fanaticism — its  provisions 
violate  the  law  of  nations— and,  but  for  the  dig- 
nified moderation  of  those  against  whom  it  is 
framed,  it  might  have  led  to  deplorable  events. 
Of  this  measure,  posterity  can  have  but  one 
opinion.  The  false  lustre  of  the  Greek  name  must 
die  away  in  its  own  ashes — the  film  of  religious 
blindness  will,  in  the  end,  be  removed — and  the 
philosophical  historian  will  only  have  before  him 
the  long-decided  question  of  right,  as  pronounced 
against  the  interference  with  Naples,  and  the 
occupation  of  Spain. 

Among  the  more  remarkable  scenes  de- 
scribed are  the  caves  or  grottos  of  Adelberg, 
though  the  author's  attention  was  not  called 
to  the  non-descript  animal  which  gave  rise 
to  Sir  Humphry  Davy's  fantastical  specula- 
tions— a  session  of  the  Hungarian  diet  at 
Presburg — the  Caverns  of  Inkerman  in  the 
Crimea — the  Russian  military  colonies,  as 
they  are  called,  in  the  same  Crimea — and 
the  cotton  manufactory  at  Siout,  in  Egypt. 
A  biography  of  the  Pacha  of  Egypt  is  given 
at  some  length,  on  the  mistaken  supposition 
that  the  subject  was  new.  While  at  Odessa, 
Mr.  W.  collected  the  reports  in  that  neigh- 
bourhood relative  to  the  death  of  Alexander, 
which  is  attributed  to  a  sense  of  mortifica- 
tion on  hearing  of  the  extensive  conspiracy 
at  a  moment  when  he  thought  himself  idol- 
ized. The  editor  has  printed  the  report  of 
the  commission  appointed  to  inquire  into 
the  details  of  that  conspiracy.  It  is  a  very 
interesting  document ;  but  how  far  it  is  to 
be  trusted,  is  another  matter. 

The  Life  of  Alexander  Alexander,  writ- 
ten by  himself,  and  edited  by  John  Howell. 
2  vols.  12mo. — Mr.  Howell  is  as  distin- 
guished for  his  activity  as  for  his  benevo- 
lence ;  he  is  the  common  patron  and  bio- 
grapher, in  Edinburgh,  of  shipwrecked 
sailors  and  broken-down  soldiers.  Within 
a  very  few  years,  it  will  be  recollected,  he 
has  published  the  "  Journal  of  a  Soldier  of 
the  71st  Regiment,"  and  the  "  Life  of 
John  Nicol,  a  Sailor."  He  has  now  a  new 
protdge  to  introduce,  and  in  the  preface  has 
thought  it  becoming  to  account  for  the 
singular  fact  of  a  humble  individual,  as  he 
describes  himself,  venturing  to  appear  as  a 
biographer.  Compassion,  it  appears,  prompt- 
ed his  first  effort.  The  soldier,  whose  jour- 
nal he  published,  was  one  whom  he  had 
known  as  a  playfellow  when  a  boy,  and 
whom  he  discovered  in  a  state  of  utter  des- 
titution, half-starved,  covered  with  rags, 


and  the  "  soles  of  his  shoes  fastened  by  a 
cord  as  they  had  been  on  his  retreat  from 
Corunna."  Unable  himself  to  furnish  any 
adequate  assistance,  he  applied  to  an  old 
lady,  whose  hand  he  had  found,  on  many 
such  occasions,  ever  ready  and  open ;  and, 
on  telling  his  tale,  she  put  her  purse  into 
his  hand,  with,  ((  John,  take  what  you 
think  he  requires."  This  lady  was  the  mo- 
ther of  Sir  Walter  Scott ;  and  Mr.  Howell 
records  it  as  the  proudest  boast  of  his  life, 
that  he  had  her  confidence,  and  the  honour 
to  be  one  of  her  almoners.  To  help  the 
poor  fellow  still  farther,  he  drew  up  the  nar- 
rative from  his  mouth ;  but  before  it  was 
published,  the  subject  had  left  the  country, 
and  his  kind-hearfed  benefactor  has  never 
heard  of  him  since.  The  same  generous 
sympathy  guided  his  next  attempt.  John 
Nicol  was  found  by  him  in  the  same  deso- 
late and  miserable  state ;  the  good  lady, 
who  had  so  often  listened  to  his  representa- 
tions, was  then  no  more  ;  but  the  success  of 
his  first  literary  effort  naturally  under  similar 
circumstances  suggested  a  second.  "  I  did 
my  best  for  him,"  says  Howell ;  and  the  ef- 
fect of  his  exertions  was  the  realization  of  a 
sum  sufficient  to  render  his  few  remaining 
years  comfortable,  and  to  leave  a  surplus  of 
£30,  which  Mr.  Blackwood  paid  over  to 
his  relations. 

Alexander  Alexander,  the  hero  of  the 
present  publication,  had,  as  a  last  resource, 
written  his  own  narrative  at  a  formidable 
length,  and  presented  it  to  the  publisher, 
Blackwood.  Publication,in  its  unpruned  state, 
Mr.  B.'s  professional  tact  told  him  at  once 
was  impracticable  ;  but  desirous  of  serving  a 
fellow-countryman,  and  one  who  had  met 
with  nothing  but  disappointments  through 
a  long  career,  he  bethought  himself  of  Mr. 
Howell ;  but  unluckily  Mr.  Howell  had  just 
then  got  Selkirk  and  his  reputation  upon 
his  hands,  and  could  only  give  a  faint  hope 
of  some  distant  assistance.  Mr.  Blackwood, 
however,  kept  him  to  this,  a  sort  of  half 
promise,  and  the  last  eleven  months — the 
mornings  only,  for  the  rest  of  the  days  were 
occupied  with  the  avocations  of  business — 
have  been  engaged  in  reducing  above  four 
thousand  folio  pages  to  two  moderate  and 
portable  volumes. 

Alexander's  tale  is  one  of  some  interest, 
and  calculated  to  read  an  useful  lesson.  He 
was  the  illegitimate  son  of  a  man  of  property 
—ashamed  to  acknowledge,  and  yet  indis- 
posed to  abandon  him.  He  placed  the  boy, 
en  a  competent  allowance  for  board,  with 
country  people,  whose  prejudices  against  a 
*  get'  of  this  kind  were  not  to  be  overcome, 
and  who  treated-  him  as  something  scarcely 
entitled  to  the  common  regards  of  humanity. 
At  school — we  doubt  if  this  could  have  oc- 
curred in  the  south — it  was  the  same,  and 
he  reached  the  age  of  seventeen  with  scarcely 
any  thing  but  the  common  acquirements  of 
reading  and  writing.  The  lad  was  sacrificed 
to  the  desire  of  concealment,  and  yet  inef- 
fectively, for  every  body,  it  seems,  knew 

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who  he  was.  Something  like  ambition  had 
been  generated,  for  the  ill-judging  father, 
who  saw  him  once  a  year,  always  bade  him 
behave  weD,  and  he  would  make  a  gentle- 
man of  him.  The  time  came  at  last  when 
something  must  be  done  towards  a  perma- 
nent settlement — his  own  wish  was  for  a 
commission  in  the  army,  but  he  was  finally 
despatched  to  the  West  Indies,  to  learn  the 
art  and  mystery  of  planting.  There,  by 
some  mismanagement,  or  rather  the  neglect 
of  adequate  arrangements,  he  found  himself 
left  to  his  own  resources,  and  glad  to  accept 
of  employment  as  overseer.  Disgusted  at 
this  occupation,  he  returned  to  Scotland, 
where  he  was  roughly  received  by  his  father, 
and  quickly  shipped  off,  in  the  steerage,  for 
Canada,  as  a  book-keeper.  On  board,  how- 
ever, the  captain — bf  course  he  had  received 
no  competent  payment  for  the  passage — 
treated  him  very  harshly,  and  he  escaped 
from  the  ship  when  off  the  Irish  coast,  where 
he  enlisted  in  the  artillery  service,  and  was 
forthwith  sent  to  Ceylon.  At  Ceylon  he 
was  stationed  some  years — always  the  vic- 
tim of  jealousy — never  getting  on ;  regarded 
by  the  men  as  a  '  dictionary  man,'  envied 
for  his  acquirements  by  the  non-commis- 
sioned officers,  much  of  whose  work  he  per- 
formed, and  misrepresented  by  them  to  their 
superiors.  At  the  peace  of  1814,  he  was 
discharged  on  a  pension  of  nine-pence  a 
day.  Quite  abandoned  by  his  father,  he 
now  made  his  way  again  to  the  West-Indies, 
and  after  two  or  three  attempts  at  employ- 
ment, proceeded  to  Venezuela ;  and  entering 
into  the  Colombian  service,  obtained  a  lieu- 
tenant's commission,  partly  by  falsely  repre- 
senting himself  as  an  officer.  This  again, 
and  in  the  common  course  of  things,  was  a 
subject  of  annoyance  ;  for  he  was  always  in 
fear  of  being  discovered,  and  more  than  once 
was  actually  recognised.  In  this  precious 
Colombian  service,  he  could  get  no  pay — 
nor  always  his  rations,  and  was  finally 
cheated  out  of  some  prize-money.  Return- 
ing to  Scotland  once  more,  pennyless — save 
some  arrears  of  his  pension — his  father  again 
refused  to  do  any  thing  for  him,  and  even, 
being  exasperated  by  his  son's  importunity, 
took  out  what  in  Scotland  is  called  a  law- 
burrows,  and  had  him  thrown  into  prison, 
till  apparently,  in  a"  few  months,  for  very 
shame,  he  was  forced  to  release  him.  The 
wretched  narrator  concludes  with  a  wish  to 
leave  the  country  in  which  he  was  born, 
and  has  suffered  most,  and  to  terminate  a 
life  in  which  he  has  suffered  much,  and  en- 
joyed little,  in  a  foreign  land.  The  parent 
is  apparently  still  living — if  all  is  true,  the 
exposure  is  fairly  justifiable.  The  son  vio- 
lates no  law  of  propriety  towards  a  father 
who  has  himself  observed  none.  But  inde- 
pendently of  the  personal  circumstances, 
the  scenes  described  have  many  of  them  a 
great  deal  of  novelty  and  interest — especi- 
ally some  of  the  West  India  sketches — those 
of  Ceylon,  and  the  campaigns  of  Colombia, 
and  the  details  of  the  life  of  a  soldier  in  the 


ranks.  "  He  is  a  man,"  says  Mr.  Howell, 
"  after  my  own  heart ;  he  will  not  sacrifice 
one  iota  of  truth  to  give  effect  to  an  incident. 
The  only  difficulty  I  have  had,  was  in  sof- 
tening down  the  circumstances  of  his  family 
concerns.  I  refused  to  go  on  with  his  life 
if  he  persisted  in  publishing  all  he  had  writ- 
ten down.  I  would  not  have  given  what  is 
published,  had  I  not  thought  it  necessary 
to  illustrate  the  effects  that  early  education 
produces  upon  the  after  man,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  account  for  his  bad  success  in 
life." 

The  Armenians,  by  C.  Macfarlane,  Esq. 
3  vols,  12 wo. — Next  to  Anastatius,  we  know 
no  volumes  better  calculated  to  familiarize 
us  with  oriental  manners,  and  especially 
those  of  Constantinople,  and  the  beautiful 
shores  of  the  Bosphorus.  Among  the  rajah 
subjects  of  the  Porte,'  Armenians  are  as 
distinct  as  Greeks  and  Jews.  They  are 
wholly  a  plodding  race  —  men-camels,  as 
their  tyrants  call  them^-their  purpose  in 
residing  among  the  Turks  is  gain,  and  they 
exercise  most  of  the  mechanical  professions 
in  Constantinople :  they  are  also  the  general 
bone-setters  of  the  country  ;  but  commercial 
pursuits  seem  most  congenial,  and  of  late 
years  they  have  superseded  the  Jews  as 
bankers  or  seraffs,  and  made  themselves 
useful  in  the  financial  transactions  of  the 
government.  As  to  any  thing  like  social 
intercourse,  they  are  entirely  detached  from 
the  Turks,  while  adopting  many  of  their 
habits  ;  and  from  the  Greeks  they  are  sepa- 
rated not  only  by  national  prejudices,  but 
by  difference  of  tenets  in  the  profession  of 
the  same  religion.  From  their  first  conver- 
sion to  Christianity,  they  have  been  disciples 
of  Eutyches,  denying  the  human  nature  of 
Christ,  and  thus  opposed  to  both  the  Greek 
church  and  the  Roman  ;  but  among  them, 
for  a  considerable  time,  the  Catholic  mis- 
sions have  made  proselytes,  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  Armenians  of  Constantinople 
are  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  their 
countrymen  as  Catholics.  To  develope  the 
manners  of  this  singular  people,  and  con- 
trast their  peculiarities  from  those  of  the 
Greeks,  the  author  selects  a  Greek  for  the 
hero  of  his  story,  and  an  Armenian  for  his 
heroine — the  general  outline  rests  on  facts. 
The  hero  is  a  Greek  prince  of  the  Fanara, 
and  son  of  the  Hospodar  of  Wallachia,  re- 
cently appointed  to  that  slippery  dignity, 
and  himself  residing  at  Constantinople,  as 
his  father's  hostage  to  the  Porte,  under  the 
official  character  of  political  agent.  He  is 
a  fine  handsome  young  fellow,  with  money 
at  command,  and  a  turn  for  intrigue. 
While  paying  a  visit  to  his  grandmamma, 
at  a  village  on  the  Bosphorus,  he  meets 
with  a  young  lady,  with  whose  charms  he 
is  deeply  struck  at  the  first  glance,  and  be- 
fore he  departs  is  desperately  in  love — the 
impression  proves  equally  decisive  on  the 
part  of  the  lady.  Unluckily  she  is  an  Ar- 
menian, the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  banker ; 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


229 


and  even  Greeks  regard  Armenians  as  a 
degraded  caste.  But  passion  masters  pre- 
judice, and  he  pursues  the  lady  through  all 
impediments,  with  a  resolution  that  difficul- 
ties only  inflame.  She  was  beautiful  as  an 
houri,  and  of  a  complexion  singularly  thin 
and  transparent — contrasted  in  this  respect 
from  her  countrywomen,  who,  though  often 
handsome,  are  remarkable  for  thick  and 
coarse  skins,  clumsy  ancles,  and  large  ears. 
The  ear,  indeed,  marks  the  Armenian  as 
specifically  as  the  eye  does  the  Jew.  By 
some  happy  chance  she  had,  with  the 
coarse  physical  qualities  of  her  country, 
escaped  also  their  still  coarser  feelings,  and 
following  nature,  was  comparatively,  in 
sentiment,  an  European  liberal,  though 
blessed  with  few  of  the  advantages  of 
education.  She  had  been  indulged  as  an 
only  daughter ;  but  the  Armenians  univer- 
sally shut  up  their  women,  and  only  intro- 
duce them  as  agreeable  vehicles  for  handing 
pipes  and  coffee.  Living  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  the  old  princess,  she  had 
made  her  acquaintance,  and  had  liberally 
assisted  her  in  her  hours  of  adversity — a 
mutual  kindness  followed,  and  frequent 
intercourse.  With  this  fact  Constantine 
quickly  became  acquainted,  and  he  as  quick- 
ly repeated  his  visits,  in  the  hope  of  again 
encountering  the  beautiful  stranger.  His 
visits  were,  however,  all  in  vain,  and  he 
dared  not  express  the  state  of  his  feelings  to 
his  prejudiced  though  grateful  relative. 
Luckily,  a  Catholic  festival  soon  brought 
the  Armenian  family,  with  the  women,  out 
of  then-  shell,  and  Constantine  took  care  to 
be  a  spectator  of  the  scene.  The  hilarity 
of  the  day  was  interrupted  by  the  sudden 
presence  of  a  Turk,  who  finding  himself  in 
a  humour  to  kill  a  Greek,  rushed  into  the 
crowd,  and  mistaking  Veronica's  father  for 
one,  was  only  prevented  from  accomplishing 
his  purpose  by  the  activity  and  address  of 
young  Constantine.  Veronica  expressed 
her  gratitude  fondly  and  devotedly  on  the 
spot ;  and  the  old  man,  while  professing 
all  he  had  was  at  his  command,  actually 
ventured  to  invite  him  to  call  and  take  a 
cup  of  coffee.  The  eager  youth,  of  course, 
seizes  the  opportunity,  and  Veronica,  in 
person,  presents  the  pipe  and  coffee,  and 
the  young  folks  contrive  to  appoint  a  meeting 
for  the  next  day.  However  furtively  this 
was  managed,  it  did  not  escape  the  eye  of 
the  Catholic  priest,  an  Italian  abbate,  of 
whom,  unluckily,  Constantine,  in  the  wan- 
tonness of  wit,  had  that  evening  made  an 
enemy.  From  the  interference,  and  pro- 
fessional influence  of  this  man,  flow  all  the 
succeeding  embarrassments  and  miseries. 
The  series  of  incidents  consists  of  plans  and 
schemes  for  effecting  interviews,  and  baffling 
the  angry  and  bigotted  parent  and  priest, 
in  which  great  adroitness  is  shewn  by  both 
parties,  till  at  last  she  is  driven,  in  order 
to  escape  an  odious  marriage  arranged  by 
her  family,  to  throw  herself  into  the  prince's 
arms,  and  a  priest  is  with  difficulty  found 


to  make  them  man  and  wife.  Short,  how. 
ever,  was  their  felicity,  for  the  very  next 
morning  comes  the  Bostandi  Basha,  and 
the  lady,  followed  by  her  lover,  is  taken 
forthwith  before  the  vizier,  whose  interest 
had  been  carefully  secured  by  the  court 
banker.  They  were  torn  asunder  by  brute 
force, — she  was  delivered  up  to  her  parent 
— and  he,  upon  perseverance  in  complaining, 
was  finally  banished  to  Wallachia,  where 
he  soon  after  died  of  the  plague,  and  the 
unhappy  lady,  shut  up  in  a  convent,  appa- 
rently died  too,  of  grief  and  harsh  treat- 
ment. 

The  History  and  Antiquities  of  the 
Tower  of  London,  by  John  Bayley,  Esq. 
—Mr.  Bayley's  very  complete  history  of  the 
Tower  is  not  at  all  known  beyond  the 
narrow  circle  of  antiquaries,  and  collectors 
of  ornamental  publications.  He  has  brought 
out  a  second  edition,  in  a  less  expensive, 
but  still  ambitious  shape,  to  bring  it  within 
the  reach  of  a  larger  class  of  readers.  The 
volume  presents  first  a  general  history  of 
the  Tower ;  then  follows  a  local  description, 
and,  finally,  memoirs  of  its  distinguished 
prisoners  from  the  days  of  Henry  I.  The 
first  prisoner  recorded  was  Flambard,  Bishop 
of  Durham,  the  confidential  minister  of 
William  Rufus,  who  was  flung  into  its 
dungeons  by  Henry  to  gratify  the  prejudices 
and  conciliate  the  good  will  of  the  people. 
The  list  closes  very  ignobly  with  the  Cato- 
street  conspirators  of  1820,  who,  however, 
were  quickly  removed  to  Newgate.  In  the 
local  description,  the  Record  Tower  intro- 
duces some  account  of  the  Rolls.  The 
most  ancient  of  these  records  are  the  Cartae 
Antiquae,  a  miscellaneous  collection  of 
charters  and  grants,  chiefly  to  ecclesiastics, 
beginning  with  Edward  the  Confessor. 
The  first  attempt  to  arrange  the  masses  of 
papers  was  made  in  the  reign  of  Edward  II., 
and  a  second  similar  effort  in  that  of  Eliza- 
beth. In  the  reign  of  that  queen  a  Mr. 
William  Bowyer  spent  some  years  in  re- 
ducing them  to  something  like  order.  Sel- 
den  was  appointed  by  the  parliament,  and 
Prynne  after  the  Restoration,  to  the  office 
of  keeper ;  but  neither  of  them,  though  both 
antiquarians,  seem  to  have  done  anything 
in  the  way  of  arrangement,  and  the  papers 
fell  again  into  the  disorder  they  were  found 
in  by  Bowyer.  Lord  Halifax,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  last  century,  called  the  attention 
of  parliament  to  the  subject,  and  through 
his  exertions  something  was  accomplished  ; 
but  not  till  the  year  1800  were  any  effectual 
steps  taken.  Under  the  direction  of  a  com- 
mittee, the  Fcedera  are  now  gradually  print- 
ing. Enough,  however,  has  not  yet  been 
done  for  complete  preservation ;  large  masses 
of  papers,  especially  the  Inquisitiones  post 
mortem  are  fast  fading.  In  this  state  are 
many  of  the  most  important  documents, 
some  of  which  are  already  illegible,  and 
others  are  fast  approaching  to  the  same 
hopeless  condition.  Mr.  B.  suggests  an 


230 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[AuG. 


immediate  transcription  as  the  only  security. 
Of  their  importance  Mr.  B.  thus  speaks : — 

As  the  knowledge  and  consequent  esteem  of 
our  national  records  and  muniments  have  in- 
creased through  the  measures  adopted  by  the 
Record  Commission,  their  use  has  every  day  be- 
come more  general,  and  their  authority  more 
frequently  consulted,  both  for  literary  and  legal 
purposes.  Indeed  the  most  sanguine  expectations 
that  could  have  been  entertained  concerning  the 
advantages  of  this  great  national  work,  have 
been  amply  realized.  From  the  sources  here  laid 
open,  the  laws,  the  history,  and  the  constitution 
of  the  kingdom  are  daily  receiving  elucidation, 
and  to  the  antiquary,  the  topographer,  the  genea- 
logist, and  to  the  nation  in  general,  an  inexhausti- 
ble mine  of  information  is  discovered,  which,  be- 
fore, had  lain  buried  in  obscurity. 

A  Guide  and  Rocket  Companion  through 
Italy,  by  William  Cathcart  Boyd,  M.  D.  ; 
1830. — Dr.  Boyd  was  prompted  to  compile 
his  valuable  little  volume  from  a  conviction, 
produced  by  woeful  experience,  of  the  utter 
uselessness  of  the  few  works  which  he  could 
meet  with  professing  to  give  the  information 
which  every  traveller  naturally  looks  for. 
Page  after  page  he  found  spent  in  descrip- 
tions of  paintings,  and  statues,  and 
churches,  alike  wearisome  and  inaccurate, 
while  correct  catalogues  are  always  to  be 
had  for  a  trifle  at  every  town — and  all  this 
to  the  neglect  of  much  that  is  valuable  and 
even  indispensible  for  travellers  to  know. 
Disregarding,  then,  these  matters,  which 
may  always  be  more  faithfully  learnt  on 
the  spot,  Dr.  Boyd  confines  himself  to 
matters  of  practical  utility — to  matters  of 
importance  to  be  known  beforehand — the 
posts  and  distances,  rates  of  posting,  monies, 
expences  of  living,  directions  to  travellers, 
and  hints,  and  a  brief  description  of  the 
most  interesting  objects  of  antiquity — 
intending  his  book,  in  short,  as  a  useful 
little  pocket  companion,  to  be  referred  to 
with  confidence  at  all  times  when  difficulty 
presents  itself;  and,  things  continuing  the 
same,  we  have  no  doubt  the  book  will  fulfil 
its  purpose. 

To  add  to  the  value  of  his  manual,  Dr. 
Boyd  adds  his  experience  as  a  physician, 
and  gives  professional  advice  to  invalids, 
and  all  who  wish  to  enjoy  health,  and  pre- 
serve it,  as  to  residence,  diet,  clothing,  and 
regimen,  with  "  prescriptions"  in  Latin  and 
English,  for  different  cases.  If  more  be 
still  desirable  as  to  the  actual  circumstances 
of  I  taly,  he  recommends  Lady  Morgan's  work, 
and  that,  it  seems,  is  to  be  met  with  in  all 
the  circulating  libraries  on  the  continent — 
this,  by  the  way,  we  think  is  a  mistake. 
Lady  M.'s  work  does  honour,  Dr.  Boyd 
says,  to  her  head  and  heart.  It  is  not  every 
one  that  will,  or  can,  tolerate  the  taste  of 
this  very  clever  woman. 

First  Love,  a  Novel,  3  vols,  \2mo — 
Though  merely  a  romance — another  com- 
plication of  old  characters  and  materials,  of 
angels  and  demons,  of  mystery  and  its 
eclaircissement,  the  common  stuff  and  staple 


of  novels  of  the  secondary,  and  of  many  of 
the  first  class,  time  out  of  mind — it  is  not 
unskilfully  put  together — the  positions  of 
the  parties  are  often  interesting  enough, 
and  the  development  of  feeling  and  passion 
consistent  and  effective. 

The  hero  of  the  tale  is  the  heir  of  a 
noble  family — exchanged  by  his  nurse,  and 
stolen  by  an  itinerant  beggar  for  the  sake  of 
his  clothes — forced  to  counterfeit  lameness, 
beaten,  starved,  and,  finally,  deserted.  In 
this  forlorn  condition  the  poor  child  is  dis- 
covered by  a  young  lady  in  a  most  romantic 
spot  on  the  lakes  of  Cumberland,  taken  to 
her  mother,  and  kindly  entertained.  The 
family  consists  of  the  benevolent  old  lady, 
her  daughter,  and  a  nephew  two  or  three 
years  older  than  the  rescued  child,  and  one 
who  gives  very  early  indications  of  inbred 
malignity.  The  young  lady  is  on  the  point 
of  marriage,  and  the  child  is,  to  please  her, 
patronized,  and  in  a  manner  adopted  by  the 
mother.  He  is  a  most  interesting  boy — • 
quite  aristocratic  in  form  and  feature,  and 
even  in  manner,  which  gives  rise  to  a  con- 
viction of  some  distinguished  origin,  and 
which  is  fed  and  confirmed  by  some  subse- 
quent information,  though  both  vague  and 
anonymous.  In  due  time  the  bride  has 
twins,  two  lovely  girls,  and  our  little  hero, 
then  seven  years  old,  makes  their  earliest 
acquaintance,  and  as  they  grow  up,  they 
regard  him  as  a  brother.  At  a  suitable  age 
he  is  sent  to  the  naval  college,  and  goes  to 
sea,  and  becomes  every  inch  a  sailor.  He 
enters  into  the  service  under  the  most  fa- 
vourable auspices,  and  is,  after  a  change  or 
two  placed  in  the  ship  of  the  noble 
admiral,  a  sort  of  Lord  Nelson,  where 
opportunities  occur  in  abundance,  none  of 
which  are,  of  course,  lost.  At  every  return 
to  port  he  revisits  the  lakes,  and  is  always 
welcomed  with  delight  by  his  little  play- 
mates, towards  one  of  whom  he  begins  to 
experience  feelings  which  differ  somewhat 
from  the  fraternal  ones  he  before  felt,  and 
which  he  still  feels  for  the  other.  By  this 
time  the  nephew  of  his  patroness  turns  out, 
what  his  earliest  bent  seemed  to  promise,  a 
worthless  profligate — crimes  of  the  darkest 
dye  are  all  but  brought  home  to  him.  To 
put  him  a  little  out  of  what  is  called  harm's 
way,  he  also  is  sent  to  sea,  and  in  a  few 
years  becomes  the  lieutenant  of  the  young 
hero  whose  activity  and  good  patronage  had 
very  early  procured  him  a  ship.  In  the 
meanwhile,  the  brave  and  now  distinguished 
youth  shrinks  from  the  avowal  of  his  senti- 
ments towards  the  lady,  nameless  and  a 
foundling  as  he  is,  and  she  who  has  always 
loved  him  as  a  brother,  and  still  thinks  her 
feelings  the  same,  is  distressed  at  the  re- 
ports of  his  attachment  to  another.  The 
young  men,  belonging  now  to  the  same 
ship,  occasionally  visit  their  common  home 
together ;  and  the  nephew,  who  himself  has 
an  eye  to  the  lady  and  her  immense  pro- 
perty, detects  the  real  state  of  their  mutual . 
feelings,  and  treats  the  youth  whom,  when 


]830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


231 


afloat,  he  is  bound  to  obey,  with  contempt, 
and  the  lady  herself  with  insolence.  She 
seems  at  his  mercy,  and  he  uses  his  advan- 
tage tyrannically  :  and  taking  every  oppor- 
tunity of  insinuating  to  his  captain  that 
his  cousin  actually  returns  his  attachment, 
gradually  excites  some  distrust  of  the  lady. 
By  and  by,  the  anticipated  discovery  of  the 
young  hero's  birth  takes  place — he  proves 
to  be  the  son  of  the  noble  admiral,  who  had 
so  long  patronized  him,  and  who  had  re- 
cently fallen  in  the  arms  of  victory.  Not  a 
moment  does  he  lose  in  despatching  a  letter 
to  the  charming  object  of  his  affections,  whom 
he  has  loved  from  her  birth,  offering  his 
title  and  fortunes ;  but  this  letter  his  insidi- 
ous and  unprincipled  rival  intercepts,  and 
an  answer  is  received  by  the  young  lord, 
apparently  in  her  own  hand-writing,  reject- 
ing his  offers,  and  avowing  her  attachment 
to  her  cousin.  This  event  is  a  prelude  to 
a  long  course  of  misapprehension  and  mys- 
tery, in  the  tantalyzing  style,  very  well 
imagined,  but  which  is,  of  course,  finally 
cleared  up — the  traitor  is  caught  in  his  own 
toils — the  lovers  come  to  a  right  understand- 
ing, and  first  love  triumphs. 

Dictionary  of  the  English  Language,  by 
N.  Webster,  L.L.D.,  Parts  I.  and  II.— 
Dr.  Johnson,  and  several  of  his  successors 
did  not  muster  40,000  words ;  and  even  Mr. 
Todd,  with  all  the  good-will  in  the  world, 
could  not  scrape  together  so  many  as  60,000, 
while  Dr.  Webster  has  brought  up  the  swel- 
ling number  to  full  70,000,  by  a  process,  to 
be  sure,  by  which  a  round  100,000  could 
readily  be  effected.  The  aim  of  every  suc- 
cessive labourer  in  these  fields,  is  to  enlarge 
the  stock — not  one  of  them  thinks  of  reduc- 
ing within  more  legitimate  limits,  though 
we  are  quite  satisfied  there  is  ample  room 
for  very  considerable  reduction.  Multitudes 
of  words  are  admitted  on  all  hands,  that  do 
not  deserve  admission,  or  any  notice  of  any 
kind,  from  any  general  usage  of  them  at  any 
period.  Dr.  Webster  flogs  all  his  predeces- 
sors in  this  respect.  No  sooner  does  he  catch 
any  body  actually  printing  a  new  word,  but 
he  sweeps  it  without  farther  inquiry  into  his 
omnium  gatherum.  Surely  there  could  be 
no  real  occasion  for  introducing  Arkites, 
expressive  of  Noah  and  his  sons,  merely 
because  Mr.  Bryant,  in  a  pedantic  spirit, 
chose  to  manufacture  the  term — nor  Appoin- 
tees, for  no  better  reason  than  because  the 
Massachusetts'  representatives  once  used  it 
in  a  circular — nor  Atimy  (with  an  accent  in 
the  antepenult  too),  because  Mr.  Mitford, 
no  great  authority,  surely,  in  verbal  matters, 
gave  the  0,71^10.  of  the  Greeks,  or  English 
termination — nor  Archbotcher,  because  Cor- 
bet botched  up  the  word  ironically.  How  for- 
tunate, by  the  way,  it  is,  the  slang  dictionary 
escaped  Dr.  Webster's  researches.  If  we 
call  Dr.  W.  an  arch-verbalist,  he  will  snap 
up  the  '  word'  for  his  next  edition,  and 
therefore  we  will  not  throw  temptation  in 
his  way. 


Between  a  dictionary  of  the  English 
language,  and  an  Encyclopaedia,  too,  there 
are  more  limits  than  seem  to  have  occurred 
to  Dr.  W.  We  find  the  Latin  terms  for 
the  genera  of  plants  and  animals,  and  also 
of  some  species,  for  the  admission  of  which 
there  can  be  but  the  one  excuse  or  necessity 
— of  swelling  the  lists.  He  has  ransacked 
Rees's  Cyclopaedia,  and  poured  into  his 
own  reservoir  a  torrent  of  ecclesiastical  and 
theological  distinctions,  for  which  no  person 
upon  earth  can  have  the  least  occasion,  or 
would  ever  dream  of  looking  for  them  in  a 
dictionary  of  the  f  English  language.'  An- 
tosiandrian — what  is  this  ?  An  opponent 
of  one  Osiander's  doctrines.  Artotyrites — 
and  this  ?  Some  heretics,  who  chose  to 
celebrate  the  Eucharist  with  bread  and 
cheese,  (as  the  learned  will  opine),  instead 
of  bread  and  wine.  Words,  again,  are  con- 
tinually occurring,  quite  un-English,  and 
which  nobody  could  expect  to  find  in  such 
a  publication,  and  of  course  would  never 
refer  for  them — accompanied,  too,  with  de- 
finitions so  bald  or  so  defective,  as  to  make 
them  perfectly  useless  :  for  instance,  "  Aver- 
nat,  a  sort  of  grape" — ((Atche,  a  small  silver 
coin  in  Turkey,  value  six  or  seven  mills." 
If  the  term  is  to  be  introduced,  why  not 
give  the  English  value  ?  "  Balloon  or  bal- 
loen,  a  state  barge  of  Siam,  made  of  a  single 
piece  of  timber,  very  long,  and  managed 
with  oars" — think  of  this,  in  a  dictionary 
of  the  English  language !  And  truly  we 
as  little  see  the  necessity  for  such  terms  as 
Aquitanian,  Arauncanian,  Acroceraunian, 
&c. — as  well  might  we  look  for  an  adjective 
term  of  every  spot  that  has  a  name  upon  the 
globe. 

Dr.  W's  friends  laud  to  the  skies  the 
accuracy  and  research  of  his  etymologies, 
and  he  is  plainly  entitled  to  considerable 
credit.  We  observe  Baptize  comes  from 
^OWTU;,  to  baptize,  which  is  as  useful  as  it 
is  learned.  Backgammon  is,  very  ade- 
quately for  the  occasion,  described  by  Dr. 
Johnson,  as  a  game  with  dice  and  tables  ; 
but  Dr.  W.  is,  we  suppose,  thought  to  have 
improved  upon  it  thus — "  a  game  played 
by  two  persons,  upon  a  table,  with  box  and 
dice.  The  table  is  in  two  parts,  on  which 
are  twenty-four  black  and  white  spaces, 
called  points.  Each  player  has  fifteen  men, 
of  different  colours,  for  the  purpose  of  dis- 
tinction." 

The  doctor  challenges  comparison,  in 
point  of  definition,  by  appealing  to  a  list 
of  words.  We  glanced  at  the  first  three  or 
four — acceptance,  we  find  illustrated  by  the 
phrase,  which  we  suppose  must  be  Ameri- 
can,— "  work  done  to  acceptance."  To 
acquire,  is  very  well  distinguished  from 
gaining,  obtaining,  procuring;  but  who, 
out  of  America,  ever  heard  of  "  obtaining  a 
book  on  loan"  ?  To  adjourn,  is  "  used  for 
the  act  of  closing  the  session  of  a  publiq 
body — as  the  court  adjourned  without  day" 
— which  must  be  exclusively  American. 

On  the  affinity  of  languages,  Adelung  is 


232 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature) 


thought,  we  believe,  but  ft  fool  to  Dr.  Web- 
ster.  The  language  of  Noah  and  his  family 
•was  of  course  all  the  same,  and  Dr.W.  finds 
no  reason,  which  we  wondered  at  as  we  went 
on,  to  infer  any  changes  before  the  building 
of  the  tower  of  Babel — the  period  and  the 
cause  assigned  by  the  writer  of  the  book  of 
Genesis  for  the  commencement  of  a  diffe- 
rence of  language,  which  for  any  thing  that 
appears,  was  not  gradual,  but  sudden  and 
decisive.  Dr.  W.,  without  however  deny- 
ing the  miracle,  ascribes  the  change  to  a 
gradual  process — the  result  solely  of  separa- 
tion and  divergence.  The  more  remote  the 
separation,  and  the  longer  its  duration,  the 
greater  became  the  difference,  though  still 
in  the  more  uncultivated,  which,  as  to  lan- 
guage, means  the  more  uncorrupted  regions, 
exist  traces  of  the  original  tongue — he  finds 
many  in  Ireland,  Scotland,  and  Wales. 
But,  what  surprised  us  most  in  this  learned 
discussion, — he  talks  of  radical  differences 
in  the  dialects  or  languages  spoken  by  the 
descendents  of  Shem  and  Ham,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  those  of  Japheth,  on  the  other. 
We  cannot,  for  the  life  of  us,  imagine  the 
line  of  distinction,  or  the  ground  of  it. 
The  three  branches  might  have  been  ex- 
pected to  shew  similar  traces  and  similar 
resemblances  of  the  common  stock,  and 
besides  the  descendents  of  each  touched 
upon  the  other.  The  Shemic  branch  (not 
Shemitic,  we  love  analogy  as  well  as  Dr. 
W.)  stretched  from  Syria  to  China,  the 
Hamic  over  Africa,  and  the  Japhetic  over 
Europe  and  Northern  Asia.  Now,  the 
Shemic  languages,  Dr.  W.  represents  as 
radically  distinct  from  the  Japhetic,  and 
this  is  what  upon  his  hypothesis  we  cannot 
accede  to.  Of  the  Hamic  dialects,  the 
Coptic,  Dr.  W.  apparently  thinks,  is  all 
that  is  left.  The  Chaldee  is,  of  course,  the 
original  and  central  language,  and  for  our 
parts,  we  should  anticipate  as  many  points 
of  resemblance  in  the  east  as  the  west,  and 
certainly  no  radical  differences ;  or  how  is 
it  he  does  nor  find  new  radical  differences, 
north  and  south,  or  any  other  two  opposite 
points  of  the  compass.  The  discussion,  in 
the  full  extent  of  it,  seems  to  us  a  little 
premature — the  assumption  of  a  central  point 
is  apt  to  warp  and  twist  the  coolest  judg- 
ment, and  we  are  afraid  Dr.  W.  has  been 
seduced  occasionally  into  committing  vio- 
lence. 

But  we  have  no  desire  whatever  to  depre- 
ciate the  learned  lexiconist ;  the  book  has 
its  valuable  points.  The  author  has  wisely 
omitted  the  confirmatory  passages,  which 
made  at  least  one  out  of  Dr.  Johnson's  two 
folios  ;  he  has  changed  the  mode  of  marking 
the  accent,  advantageously,  and  corrected 
many  well  known  blunders  of  Johnson,  in 
definition  and  etymology.  His  suggestions, 
moreover,  on  orthography  and  orthoepy — 
the  words  in  use,  we  believe,  for  spelling 
and  pronouncing — are  generally  sound ;  and 
every  thing  relative  to  science  is  indisputably 
improved. 


Tlie  Lay  of  the  Desert,  a  Poem,  in  two 

Cantos,  by    Henry  Sewell  Stokes The 

desert  is  Dartmoor,  and  Mr.  Stokes  may 
seem  likely  to  conflict  with  Mr.  Carring- 
ton  ;   but  after  a  little  preluding,  and  some- 
oh-ing  and  ah-ing,  he  suddenly,  and  some- 
what uncourteously,  bids  his  muse  refrain 
from  this  "lofty  theme  so  lately  sung  by 
Devon's  minstrel  in  no  vulgar  strain,"  and 
then  proceeds  to  interrogate  the  "land  of 
tors,  and  glens,  and  steams,"  why  he  him- 
self— being  in  some  doubt,  it  must  be  pre- 
sumed— visits  its  "  desert  loneliness" — 
Is't  to  indulge  in  antiquarian  dreams 
O'er  cairn  and  ruin  in  their  burial  dress 
Of  moss — impervious  almost  to  a  guess ; 
Upon  my  fancy's  wild  and  airy  steed, 
Thro'  backward  centuries  of  time  to  press,  &c. 

Is't  to  indulge  In  correspondence  strange 
With  fay  and  sprite  and  demon  of  the  blast, 
The  vacant  mysteries  of  the  ideal  range, 
Which  poets  will  converse  with  to  the  last  ? 
No — to  the  winds  such  mis-creations  cast — 
Off  with  such  whimsies  to  the  days  of  yore,  &c. 
No,  he  is  no  romancer — no  antiquarian 
— no  hunter — no  fisherman — his  course  to 
thee,  Dartmoor,  no  such  pursuits  incline. 
What  the  de'il  takes  him  there  then  ? 
I  to  thee  hie  because  my  soul  is  sick  — 
Sick  with  mankind  and  their  disgusting  ways  ; 
Altho'  but  lately  kindled  my  life's  wick 
And  now  but  gathering  into  manhood's  blaze, 
Much  hath  it  felt  the  world's  foul,  murky  haze — 
Ay — I  have  lived  quite  long  enough  to  tell 
That  love,  truth,  virtue,  in  the  world's  wide  maze 
Perish — they  cannot  bear  the  boisterous  swell — 

With  similar  nonsense. 

A  sudden  break  now  introduces  his 
dreamings  on  "  Calpe's  heaven-aspiring 
mount,"  where  his  "  drowsy  soul"  used  to 
wake,  and  from  off  her  plumes  seem  to 
shake  the  ignoble  dust,  &c.  All  which  is 
particularly  fine,  and,  what  is  better,  serves 
to  remind  him  of  Dartmoor  again,  which, 
though  less  sublime,  is  not  less  alone,  and 
accordingly  presents  a  capital  spot,  not  only 
for  invoking  solitude,  and  delineating  its 
sweet  and  salutary  effects,  but  of  comparing 
the  modus  operandi  of  different  solitudes—- 
those, for  instance,  of  Andalusia  and  Dart- 
moor. Well,  and  what  is  the  result  ?  pre- 
cisely the  same — the  difference  is  in  the 
process. — 
Here,  seems  the  soul,  healed  almost  with  a 

scourge, 
There,  with  a  kiss  does  trouble  in  composure 

merge. 

While  he  is  thus  singing  or  sighing  about 
solitude,  to  the  tors  the  evening  hour  pro- 
claim, which  does  not  hasten  him  home  to 
bed,  but  prompts  to  stay  and  take  advan- 
tage of  the  natural  tendency  such  a  scene 
has  to  refresh  the  memory,  for — 
Not  in  the  world,  indeed,  doth  evening  thus 
Brush  up  our  fading  reminiscences,  &c. 

Against    this    terrible    world,    he    now 
makes  some  vigorous  resolutions.— 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


233 


Ne'er  shall  the  cup  of  worldly  blisa  be  mine,  &c. 

And  the  reason  is — 
I  know  the  world  is  false,  and  vain,  and  void, 
Have  felt  it  such,  and  ne'er  will  to  it  trust,  &c. 

And,  then,  to  give  a  proof  he  knows 
what  he  is  talking  about,  he  tells  a  tale  of 
two  young  lovers,  whose  sires  were  at  first 
both  "  well  to  do ;"  but,  at  last,  when  one  of 
them  was  no  longer  "  well  to  do,"  the 
other  refused  to  give  his  daughter  to  the 
bankrupt's  son,  and  so  the  young  lady 
pined,  and  the  youth  became  a  "  noble 
ruin,"  &c.  This  is  an  opportunity  not  to 
be  thrown  away  of  abusing  interest,  the 
source  of  this  calamity,  right  and  left.  How 
shall  he  describe  "  its  all-efficient,  fatal 
character?"  Fit  symbols  are  likely  to  be 
scarce,  it  seems — he  scrapes  all,  however, 
his  memory  furnishes.  It  is  the  dry-rot  of 
nature — cankerworm — moth — rust — wax — 
gall ;  worse  than  the  burning  stream  which 
Etna  vomits — worse  than  beams  of  forked 
lightning  ;  it  is  the  upas  of  the  mental 
world — it  is  the  god  of  this  villainous,  &c. 
If  the  reader  wish  for  more,  there  is  a  whole 
volume  of  it,  of  the  same  unmeasured,  un- 
discriminating  character.  The  lines  are 
often  smooth  enough,  and  vigorous  in  their 
march ;  but  the  diction  is  frequently  poor, 
and  the  sentiment  always  of  the  same 
school-boy  cast. 

Mr.  Milman^s  Appendix  to  his  History 
of  the  Jews. — A  most  unmeasured  cry  has 
been  raised  against  Mr.  Milman  for  employ- 
ing some  of  his  own  sound  common  sense 
in  the  interpretation  of  Scripture,  and 
which,  from  the  many  quarters  in  the 
church  and  out  of  it,  from  whence  it  rose, 
required  some  serious  notice.  Mr.  M.,  in 
justification,  has  judiciously  appealed,  as  he 
had  done  indeed  before  to  the  Bishop  of 
London,  to  admitted  authorities,  instead  of 
supporting  his  sentiments  by  farther  argu- 
mentation. It  is  surely  enough  that  the 
passages  against  which  exceptions  were 
most  vehemently  taken,  breathe  precisely 
the  tone  of  the  Family  Bible  of  the  Society 
for  Promoting  Christian  Knowledge,  known 
as  Mant  and  D'Oyly's.  This  will  satisfy 
the  Church  party,  with  whom  Mr.  M.  is,  of 
course,  most  concerned,  if  it  will  not  the 
Evangelical  clique,  who  are  not  likely  to 
be  pleased  with  anybody's  version  but  their 
own. 

Exodus,  or  the  Curse  of  Egypt,  ly 
T.  B.  J. — This  little  volume  modestly 
appeals  to  the  patronage  of  Glasgow,  the 
city  of  the  writer's  habitation,  from  whom, 
though  "  all  bow  down  to  the  calf  of  gold, 
few  walk  to  the  temple  of  the  Muses,"  he 
ventures  to  solicit  rather  justice  than  mercy, 
and  not  many  can  do  so  with  so  good  a 
grace,  or  with  so  good  a  chance  of  escaping 
a  whipping.  What  the  worshipful  Glas- 
gowites  may  deem  of  the  performance,  we 
know  not ;  but  the  poem,  we  are  sure,  need 
fear  no  comparison  with  any  of  the  Biblical 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL,  IX,  No,  56. 


poems  with  which  we-  have  of  late  been 
deluged.  The  principal  poem  consists  of  a 
series  of  sketches  of  the  plagues  of  Egypt, ' 
simply  strung  together.  The  few  hints  of 
the  Scriptures  are  expounded  often  very 
happily,  though  occasionally  with  a  little 
too  much  luxuriance,  and  then  occur  speci- 
mens of  an  undisciplined  taste. 

We  pick  out  a  scrap  from  the  desolating 
and  depressing  effects  of  the  locusts : — 
Ye  rivers!  silver  serpents  of  the  hills, 
Sons  of  the  mountains  and  the  mountain  crags, 
Who  go  like  pilgrims  murmuring  oh  your  way  ; 
Well  may  ye  murmur  on  your  journey  now ! 
Ye  do  not  leap  from  rock  to  rock,  so  light 
In  all  the  playfulness  of  strength  and  youth  ; — 
The  flowery  fringes  of  your  streams  are  gone— 
The  fisher's  song  is  hushed  upon  your  waves— 
The  voice  of  playful  children  is  not  near — 
Nor  bathes  voluptuous  beauty  in  your  kiss— 
Nor  hear  ye  lovers'  tales  upon  your  banks — 
Nor  mirror  happy  maidens  in  your  glass. 

Ye  breezes  ye  may  wail  upon  your  way, 
For  all  the  lovely  things  ye  used  to  meet 
Upon  your  journeyings,  are  in  their  graves  ; 
The  flowers  are  dead,  from  whom  ye  gathered 

balm, 
And  over  whom  ye  shook  your  dewy  wing?,  &c. 

We  must  give  another  morsel,  descriptive 
of  the  queen's  despair  when  Pharaoh  quit* 
her  in  chace  of  the  Hebrews. 
Upon  a  splendid  'Ottoman  she  threw 
Her  pallid  form  ;  and  it  was  diamond-decked 
And  clothed  with  woven  gold,  and  softly  laid 
With  the  down  of  the  swan  that  loves  the  Nile  ; 
The  sphinx,  the  ibis,  and  the  cat  of  gold 
All  looked  down  coldly  on  her  wildering  grief ; 
Cold  was  their  aspect,  they  consoled  her  not  : 
Her  Nubian  slaves  that  bend  the  supple  knee, 
And  fan  her  with  the  fair  flamingo's  wing, 
Cannot  allay  the  fever  of  her  brain  ; 
Nor  all  around  the  walls  of  Arabesque, 
Nor  pearls  and  shells  brought  from  the  Red  Sea 

coast, 

Nor  silver  mirror  which  she  bowed  before, 
Nor  her  gay  equipage,  can  charm  her  more  ; 
Before  the  storm  of  sorrow  which  now  blew, 
Her  reason's  bark  went  down  nor  rose  again. 
Not  all  the  medicines  that  Iris  knew 
Could  heal  her— not  the  sainted  amulet 
Could  cheer  the  bosom  it  was  hung  upon,  &c. 

The  author  pleads  youth  and  unpropi- 
tious  circumstances — he  need  not  depre- 
cate ;  he  has  fancy  and  language  to  make 
a  poet;  his  style  and  diction,  are  sweet,, 
smooth,  and  flowing,  and  yet  not  made  up 
of  nothing  but  set  phrases,  and  well-worn 
allusions. 

The  Divine  System  of  the  Universe,  $c., 
by  William  Woodley — -The  foundation  of 
this  performance  appears  to  have  been  laid 
by  Mr.  Brothers — the  prophet,  we  suppose, 
Or  one  of  his  fraternity ;  the  superstructure 
was  built  by  one  Commander  Woodley, 
and  their  double  labours  are  accompanied 
by  a  sympathetic  introduction  from  the 
editor,  whose  own  name  unhappily  does  not 
appear.  The  adventurous  introducer  him- 

2  G 


234 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature.. 


[Aua 


self  arrived  at  the  rery  conclusion  of  Messrs. 
Brothers  and  Woodley  long  before  he  had 
the  honour  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
either  of  those  enlightened  personages ; 
and  the  very  arguments,  and  others  that 
sound  like  them,  but  are  not,  which  con- 
ducted Newton  and  his  successors  to  one 
set  of  conclusions,  have  led  this  learned 
trio  of  Thebans  to  their  very  antipodes. 
The  Editor,  for  himself,  considered,  first, 
that,  though  the  earth  is  represented  as 
moving  through  an  orbit  whose  diameter  is 
190  millions  of  miles,  no  sensible  paralax 
is  discernible — ergo,  the  earth  must  be  sta- 
tionary. The  two  bears  whirl  round  the 
axle  of  the  sky  in  twenty-four  hours,  and 
such  an  effect  cannot  be  produced  by  the 
daily  revolution  of  the  earth — ergo,  the 
earth  is  stationary,  and  the  stars  go  round. 
If,  again,  the  revolution  of  the  earth  could 
produce  such  an  effect,  (appearance  he 
means,)  then  the  traversing  so  vast  a  space 
as  190  millions  must  needs  produce  some 
sensible  changes  in  the  stars ;  but,  strange 
to  say,  none  is  perceptible — ergo,  and  be- 
cause it  impugns  the  veracity  of  his  eye- 
sight, understanding,  and  creed,  the  New- 
tonian system  is  an  imposition.  And,  in 
the  fourth  place,  Tycho  Brahe,  Aristotle, 
Archimedes,  and  Homer,  represent  the  sun 
as  describing  a  course  in  the  heavens — 
Zerubbabel  declares,  it  compasses  the  hea- 
vens about ;  and  Solomon  knew  the  altera- 
tions of  the  turning  of  the  sun,  &c. — ergo, 
and,  also,  because  the  compass,  or  a  pole 
kept  constantly  pointed  to  the  north,  instead 
of  23  £  degrees  to  the  right  or  the  left,  as  if 
to  produce,  by  that  means,  the  seasons, 
there  exists  abundant  evidence  that  the 
Newtonians  are  imposing  upon  the  credulity 
and  ignorance  of  the  world. 

The  value  of  these  same  reasons,  and  the 
novelty  of  them,  such  of  them  as  are  intel- 
ligible, are  sufficiently  obvious,  and  super- 
sede the  necessity  of  farther  analysis.  Every 
eight  or  ten  years,  for  a  century  past,  have 
introduced  persons  of  this  unlicked  caste — 
men  of  ardent  piety  and  cloudy  perception, 
whose  reasoning  powers  are  always  citra 
ultrave  the  line  of  common  sense,  and  who 
can  measure  the  evidence  neither  of  morals 
nor  mathematics. 

Universal  Mechanism,  as  consistent  with 
the  Creation  of  all  Things,  the  Appearances 
of  Nature,  and  the  Dictates  of  Reason  and 
Revelation,  by  G.  M.  Bell. — The  author's 
purpose  is,  as  may  be  partly  gathered  from 
the  title,  to  demonstrate  that  all  things 
owe  neither  their  origin  nor  their  preser- 
vation to  chance,  as  is  the  opinion  of  some, 
nor  exist  from  all  eternity,  as  is  supposed 
by  others,  but  were  created  by  the  all-wise, 
all-perfect,  and  eternal  God,  and  are  pre- 
served alone  by  his  care  and  protection. 
We  discover  no  novelty  of  illustration,  and 
cannot  imagine  what  could  prompt  the 
author  to  publication,  with  Paley  before 
him,  to  whom  he  repeatedly  refers.  His 


explanations  of  the  Six  Days  of  Creation 
can  only  excite  disgust,  consisting,  as  they 
do  of  idle  speculations,  repeated  a  thou- 
sand times — confirming  nothing,  and  teach- 
ing nothing. 

On  the  Portraits  of  English  Authors  of 
Gardening,  with  Biographical  Notices,  by 
S.  Felton — Mr.  Felton,  it  may  be  sup- 
posed,  is  not  only  a  horticulturalist,  but  a 
portrait  collector.  After  glancing  at  Greeks, 
Romans,  and  Orientals,  and  two  English- 
men, one  Alfred,  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
and  one  Henry  Dane,  of  the  fourteenth,  of 
both  of  whom  he  thinks  it  not  very  likely 
portraits  will  be  discovered,  he  throws  his 
writers  upon  gardening  into  two  classes — 
without  portraits,  and  with.  Of  the  former 
he  reckons  up  sixty-nine,  the  earliest  of 
whom  is  Ralph  Arnolde,  who  has,  it  seems, 
in  his  Chronicle,  printed  in  1502,  a  chapter 
on  the  Crafte  of  Graffynge  and  Plantynge, 
and  Alterynge  of  Fruits,  as  well  in  colour 
as  in  taste  ;  and  in  whose  chronicle,  by  the 
way,  appeared  first  the  '  Nut-brown  Maid.* 
Of  those  of  whom  portraits  happily  still 
exist,  the  author  ennumerates  we  know  not 
how  many,  and  some  whose  names  we  did 
not  expect  to  see.  Numbers  of  the  devotees 
of  the  garden  have  lived  to  a  great  age. 
The  volume  is  full  of  agreeable  recollections 
— the  anecdotes,  to  be  sure,  are  all  very  well 
known,  and  the  author  catches  at  any  peg 
to  hang  a  note  upon.  Charles  Cotton's 
works  are  enumerated  ;  a  quotation  alludes 
to  Essex,  and  then  we  are  told  Essex  lost 
his  head  for  saying  Elizabeth  grew  old  and 
cankered,  and  that  her  mind  was  as  crooked 
as  her  carcase.  "  Perhaps,"  he  adds,  "  the 
beauty  of  Mary  galled  Elizabeth."  This 
leads  to  Anne  Boleyn,  and  Mr.Hutton,  and  a 
modern  writer  on  horticulture,  who  tells  us 
Queen  Elizabeth,  in  her  last  illness,  eat  little 
but  sucory  pottage.  Mr.  Lowden  says  it  is 
used  as  a  fodder  for  cattle.  The  French 
call  it  chicoree  sauvage.  Her  taste  must 
have  been  something  like  her  heart,  &c. 

The  Senate,  a  Poem.  Part  I.  The 
Lords. — No  uneffective  sketch  of  the  Lords, 
with  a  dash  of  satire  ;  but  presenting  fair, 
and  generally  favourably  fair  judgments. 
The  versification  is  a  mixture  of  Pope  and 
Goldsmith,  with  a  turn  or  two  of  Campbell 
and  Crabbe,  and  the  effect  is  often  expres- 
sive and  impressive.  The  palm  of  elocution 
— we  hope  the  writer  uses  the  word  strictly, 
and  not  loosely,  for  eloquence — is  assigned 
to  Lord  Grey, 

Whose  port  erect,  and  proud,  yet  gracious  state, 
Denote  the  dignified  aristocrat. 

"  True  to  the  crown  (witness  the  rectory  of 
Bishopsgate),  the  people,  and  the  laws." 

Next,  on  his  crutch,  see  generous  Holland  rise, 
Gout  in  his  feet,  good  humour  in  his  eyes: 
The  classic  Holland,  to  the  Muses  known, 
Peer,  poet,  orator — Amphitryon. 

With  more,  that  amounts  to  extravagance. 


1830.] 


Dwneslie  find  Foreign. 


235 


The  Marquis  of  Lansdowne  is   closely 
hit :— 


Good  sense  ; 


But  declamation  is  not  eloquence! 

Loud   without    force,    and    copious    without 

strength, 
We  long  for  greater  height,  and  shorter  length. 

Dudley's  impromptus  are  laughed  at ; 
but  John  Ward  could  speak  to  command 
attention,  when  he  had  not  £80,000  a  year. 
Full  justice  is  done  to  the  old  Chancellor,, 
while  the  new  one  is  characterized  as  the 
learned,  the  gay,  the  versatile  -  the  Palinu- 
rus  of  politics,,  who  does  nothing  now  but 
"  promote  his  friends,  and  prosecute  his 
foes." 

Harrowby  is  the  wise,  the  good,  the 
accomplished.  Peel  often  calls  him  "  Araby 
the  blest" — a  squib  at  the  secretary's  ple- 
beian pronunciation.  Lord  EUenborough's 
curls  and  conceit  exhaust  most  of  the  au- 
thor's bile.  The  duke  of  dukes  has  full 
measure  :— 

Straight-forward  sense,  severe  simplicity ; 
That  cleared  each,  obstacle,  and  smoothed  the 

way — 

This  stamped  his  dictate  with  decisive  sway. 
With  bloodless  lip  comprest,  and  arching  brow. 
Warrior  of  Waterloo,  I  see  thee  now ! 
Calm,  yet  acute,  throughout  the  dire  debate 
Composed  in  feature,  rigidly  sedate  ; 
What  prudence  counsels,  resolute  to  dare — 
Victor  alike  in  politics  and  war. 

The  borough  Lords  follow—- 
Rutland and  Beaufort,  Hertford,  Cleveland,  see 
Combine  with  Norfolk  for  the  ministry  ; 
On  whom,  obedient  to  their  chief's  decrees, 
Wait  in  the  back-ground  some  two  score  M.P.'s . 
But  fierce  Newcastle  goads  his  Newark  horse, 
To    strengthen    Bedford's    and    Fitzwilliam's 

force, 

While  Lonsdale  balances  in  middle  space 
His  dread  of  Popery  'gainst  his  love  of  place. 

Lots  of  Lords  are  dismissed  with  a  word, 
while  the  Bishops  are  lumped  thus  : — 
Lo!  where  the  Bishops  awe  the  timid  mind, 
In  curly  wigs,  and  gigot-sleeves  reclined  ! 
Not  every  one  such  pious  horror  feels — 
A  foreign  princess  called  them  '  imbeciles,'* 
And  quaintly  asked,  so  wonderful  the  sight, 
If  those  were  peeresses  in  their  own  right? 

The  Templars,  an  Historical  Novel,  3 
vols.,  I2mo — The  Templars  bears  one  mark 
of  a  first  performance,  and  one  which  is,  at 
the  same  time,  of  some  promise — the  latter 
end  is  better  than  the  beginning — an  event 
as  important  and.  of  as  good  augury  in 
novels  as  in  morals.  While  this  is  read- 
able, better  things  may  be  looked  for — a 
second  effort  will  present,  probably,  more 
skill  in  binding  events  together — more  re- 
finement in  language,  and  point  in  senti- 
ment, and  the  writer  will  learn  to  eschew 
the  perilous  propensity  of  character-draw- 
ing. It  is  always  safer,  especially  where 

*  The  modern  name  for  ladies'  large  sleeves. 


ideas  are  yet  scarcely  defined,  and  the  judg- 
ment is  still  immature,  to  be  content  with 
developing  by  action,  and  leave  the  reader 
to  portraiture,  physically  and  metaphysically, 
if  the   employment  be  to  his  taste.     The 
Templars,  instead  of  redoubted  crusaders, 
are  three  doughty  lawyer's  clerks,  assembled 
in  one  office,  but  soon  separated  by  circum- 
stances  which   fling    them    into    different 
spheres,   but   which   the   returning  tide  of 
affairs    eventually   throws   together   again. 
The  hero,  who  is  endowed  with  qualities  to 
make  a   gentleman   of,    is  speedily  driven 
into  embarrassments  by  the  shewy  but  pro- 
fligate habits  of  one  associate,  and  rescued 
from  impending  ruin  by  the  kind  and  reso- 
lute energy  of  the  other.     The  friend  and 
deliverer  is  a  rough  diamond,   with  some 
mystery  in  his  story,  an  Irishman,  capable 
of  strong  attachments,  and  indulging  them 
with  something  like  devotion  towards  the 
youth  he  had  rescued ;  but  some  misunder- 
standing quickly  separates,  if  it  does  not 
alienate  them,  and  sudden  absorbing  events 
preclude     conciliation.      The     treacherous 
seducer,  involved  in  the  consequences  of  his 
own  profligacy,  is  obliged  to  fly,  but  with 
burning  feelings  of  hatred  towards,  the  vic- 
tim who  had  just  escaped  the  toils  he  had 
thrown  around  him.     The  hero  comes,  by 
the  death  of  his  old  carking  father,  into  pos- 
session of  a  splendid  income,  and  for  want  of 
something  better  to  do,  enters  the  Guards,  and 
though  the  profession,  at  least  the  perilous 
part  of  it,  is  not  at  all  to  his  taste,  yet  from 
emulation,  or  a  sense  of  honour,  becomes  a 
thorough  soldier,  and  early  wins  laurels  in 
the  field,  and  a  majority  in  the  dragoons. 
In  the  course  of  service,  on  the  first  stirrings 
of  the  Irish   rebellion,   he   goes  with  his 
regiment  to  Dublin,  where,  before  the  out- 
break of  the  rebels,  his  roaming  amatory 
fancies  are  fixed  by  the  fascinations  of  a 
charming  girl,  of  whom  he  occasionally  gets 
a   tantalizing  glance,    till,    at  last,   in  the 
farther  pursuit  of  the  syren,  he  lights  upon 
his  old  and  faithful  Irish  friend,  acting  the 
lawyer  in  some  obscure  hole  of  the  metropo- 
lis of  Erin,   and  in  the  sister  of  his  friend 
discovers  the  lady  he  has  been  so  long  in 
search  of.     She  is  a  most  enchanting  and 
superior   creature,    high   in   intellect,    and 
deep  in  feeling,  and  devoted  to  her  brother, 
who  is  not  only  of  Milesian,  but  of  regal 
descent,  and  as  it  quickly  proves,  on  the 
strength  of  this  pretension,  an  active  leader 
in  the  rebellion.     The  hero  and  the  lady,  of 
course,  fall  mutually  in  love,  and  the  mate- 
rials for  embarrassment  abound.     He  is  an 
officer  in  the  king's  service — the  friend  a 
rebel,  and   the  lady   in  the  secret.      The 
explosion  follows;  the  major  falls  into  an 
ambuscade,    and   is   rescued,    though    not 
without  difficulty,  by  the  exertions  and  in- 
fluence of  his  friend.     The  rebel  leader,  in 
turn,  is  betrayed  and  thrown  into  prison, 
and  the  major,  relying  upon  his  castle  in- 
fluence, solicits  his  pardon.     A  reprieve  is 
readily  obtained  by  one  whose  services  were 
9.  n  9 


236 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature. 


[AuG. 


readily  acknowledged.  To  prevent  a  mo- 
ment's unnecessary  suspense,  a  copy  of  the 
reprieve  is  despatched  by  a  confidential  ser- 
vant, and  he  himself  follows,  accompanied 
by  the  sister,  a  few  hours  after.  This  ser- 
vant has  been  some  time  in  the  hero's 
service ;  he  is  a  surly,  dogged  sort  of  fel- 
low, but  apparently  of  the  most  faithful 
and  attached  caste.  He  had  been  picked 
up  under  extraordinary  circumstances,  and 
seemed  bound  up  inseparably  with  his  mas-, 
ter's  interests.  He,  however,  turns  out  a 
thorough-paced  villain — he  is,  in  short,  the 
fellow-clerk,  who  had  all  but  accomplished 
his  ruin  by  involving  him  in  gambling 
transactions.  Revenge  was  the  object  for 
•which  this  demon  lived — by  the  hero  he 
had  been  struck,  and  by  the  friend  he  had 
been  baffled.  In  his  service,  on  the  pre- 
sent occasion,  he  had  an  opportunity  of  kill- 
ing two  birds  with  one  stone — he  destroyed 
the  reprieve,  and  by  his  contrivance  his 
master  reached  the  scene  of  execution  an 


hour  too  late.  The  sister  lost  her  senses, 
and  the  hero's  happiness  seemed  marred  for 
ever.  Nothing,  however,  could  detach  him 
from  the  unhappy  lady ;  for  two  years  he 
sedulously  watched  over  her,  and,  at  last, 
removing  her  to  the  south  of  France  for 
change  of  air  and  country,  he  encountered 
his  sullen  and  vengeful  servant.  A  scene  of 
violent  recrimination  ensued  ;  the  hero 
turned  away  in  disgust— the  wretch  rushed 
after  him  with  a  knife — the  poor  and  appa- 
rently insensible  lady  uttered  a  scream — the 
hero  turned  at  the  sound — the  blow  thus 
missed  its  object,  and  the  assassin  fell  against 
the  trunk  of  a  broken  tree  and  dashed  his 
brains  out.  The  shock  restored  the  lady's 
intellects,  and  by  slow  degrees  she  recovered 
her  health,  and  bliss  finally  repaid  her  sor- 
rows. The  wind-up  is  not  only  invested 
with  interest,  but  told  with  deep  pathos, 
presenting  a  brilliant  proof  of  executive 
powers,  of  which  the  outset  certainly  gave  no 
promise. 


FINE  ARTS'  EXHIBITIONS. 


THE  long-expected  print,  from  Mr.  Mar- 
tin's Fall  of  Nineveh,  is  at  length  before 
the  public.  The  praise  that  we  are  inclined 
to  bestow  upon  this  extraordinary  produc- 
tion (and  it  is  praise  of  a  very  high  order) 
is,  that  it  is  the  finest  of  all  his  works.  We 
are  at  a  loss  to  conceive  any  thing  in  the 
form  of  a  print  more  magnificent  than  this 
engraving.  Mr.  Martin  has  in  this  picture 
concentred  every  thing  that  his  genius  had 
previously  created.  All  that  he  has  hitherto 
accomplished  of  the  vast,  the  beautiful,  the 
grand,  and  the  sublime  in  art,  is  here  brought 
together — all  massed,  as  if  by  supernatural 
power,  in  the  vastness,  the  beauty,  the  gran- 
deur and  sublimity  that  are  displayed,  in 
wild  and  wonderful  profusion,  in  the  Fall 
of  Nineveh.  The  picture  is  no  doubt  fa- 
miliar to  most  readers.  The  moment  of 
the  event  represented  is  that  in  which  Sar- 
danapalus  is  proceeding  with  his  concubines 
to  the  pile  which  he  had  himself  caused  to 
be  raised  for  their  destruction.  His  city  is 
on  fire ;  not  lit  by  human  hands,  but  by 
heaven ;  and  the  oracle  that  had  foretold 
the  fall  of  his  kingdom  seems  to  be  fulfilled. 
The  enemy  is  pouring  through  the  crum- 
bling walls — and  he  devotes  himself  and 
his  beautiful  females  to  the  flames.  The 
hour  is  supposed  to  be  soon  after  sun-set : 
the  moon  is  faintly  struggling  with  the 
strong  glare  of  the  distant  fires,  and  with 
the  lightning,  whose  broad  flash  is  spread 
over  the  front  of  the  picture.  The  immense 
space  of  the  city,  with  its  splendid  archi- 
tecture, partaking  of  the  Egyptian  and  the 
Indian,  seems  more  immense  from  the  my- 
riads that  are  thronging  tumultuously  in  on 
every  side.  Elephants,  flanked  by  chariots 
and  horse,  are  trampling  down  the  routed 
Ninevites.  On  the  left  hand  is  the  funeral 


pile  heaped  with  treasures  ;  on  the  right, 
the  hanging  gardens,  from  which  the  people 
are  looking  in  terror  upon  the  approaching 
ruin.  In  the  centre  of  the  foreground  stands 
Sardanapalus,  surrounded  by  his  concu- 
bines. The  grouping  of  the  figures  here  is 
very  beautiful ;  their  forms  are  reflected  by 
the  lightning  in  the  bright  transparent 
marble.  Warriors  are  taking  leave  of  their 
wives  and  children — some  of  the  slaves  are 
pilfering  the  treasures,  others  are  revelling 
in  riot.  Immediately  in  front  stand  the 
rulers  of  the  state,  denouncing  the  king  as 
the  cause  of  the  city's  destruction.  In  the 
print  the  effect  is  even  more  striking  than 
in  the  picture  :  in  the  one,  the  light  is  ne- 
cessarily glaring;  in  the  other,  it  is  sub- 
dued into  an  extended  and  unbroken  cha- 
racter of  gloomy  grandeur  and  magnificent 
desolation.  In  a  picture  like  this  the  figures 
themselves  are  of  less  consequence  than  the 
manner  in  which  they  are  introduced;  other- 
wise we  could  wish  that  some  few  of  them 
had  been  more  perfect,  or  that  the  features 
had  received  an  expression  which,  on  a  scale 
like  this,  in  a  mezzotint  engraving,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  give.  Mr.  Martin  has 
done  wonders  ;  and  we  gladly  and  grate- 
fully add  our  voice  to  the  loud  peal  of  praise 
which  this  performance  cannot  fail  to  call 
forth. 

Either  we  are  much  deceived,  or  the  pub- 
lication of  A  Series  of  Views  in  the  West 
Indies,  engraved  from  Drawings  taken  in 
the  Islands,  will  effect  some  little  change 
in  the  opinions  entertained  in  this  country 
respecting  those  islands  and  their  inhabi- 
tants. We  have  rarely  seen  a  set  of  views 
so  pleasantly  poetical,  and  yet  so  apparently 
faithful  in  their  delineation  both  of  places 
and  persons— of  the  beauties  of  nature,  and 


.1830.] 

of  the  negroes.  They  have  left  us  quite 
charmed  with  the  West  Indies,  and  longing 
for  a  climate  where  we  can  indulge  in  our 
summer  costume  all  the  year  round.  We 
are  disposed  to  wonder  what  abolitionists 
and  an  ti-  slavery  speech -makers  will  say  to 
these  views.  A  single  glance  at  them  will 
convince  the  most  incredulous  that  slavery 
at  Antigua  is  a  much  more  endurable  thing 
than  our  sympathetic  societies  at-home 
would  have  them  imagine.  We  cannot 
help  suspecting  that  the  superintendance  of 
sugar  canes  at  St.  Vincent'Sj  is  quite  as 
pleasant  as  writing  pamphlets  against  it. 
The  negroes^  in  these  views,  seem  to  be 
perfectly  ignorant  of  the  dreadful  sufferings 
they  are  enduring,  and  look  as  if  they  con- 
sidered compassion. to  be  a  superfluity.  If 
they  knew  all,  they  would  hardly,  we  should 
think,  exchange  conditions  with  an  English 
mechanic.  Three  parts  of  this  publication 
have  already  appeared,  containing  four 
plates  each.  The  object  of  the  work  is  to 
convey  an  idea  of  the  existing  state  of 
slavery  in  the  British  islands,  of  negro 
costume,  the  process  of  sugar-making,  &<r. 
and  to  give  a  selection  of  views  illustrative 
of  the  general  character  of  the  scenery. 
This,  we  think,  has  been  entirely  accom- 
plished. The  descriptions  are  more  expla- 
natory than,  from  the  brevity  of  them,  could 
reasonably  have  been  expected  ;  and  the 
plates  are,  as  we  have  intimated,  delightful 
things.  They  almost  make  us  discontented 
with  our  liberty.  Of  course  there  must  be 
such  things  as  churchyards  somewhere  in 
the  West  Indies;  but  as  we  do  not  find 
one  among  these  views,  we  presume  that 
they  are  not  so  numerous  as  has  been  re- 
ported. Happiness  and  long  life,  instead 
s  of  flogging  and  fevers,  seem  to  be  here  the 
predominant  features.  Considering  the 
temptations  which  an  artist  must  be  exposed 
to  in  such  a  country,  and  the  disposition  he 
must  naturally  feel  towards  leisure  instead 
of  labour,  these  plates  are  very  cleverly  exe- 
cuted. In  many  of  the  views  much  artist- 
like  feeling  is  displayed,  and  all  of  them 
are  distinguished  by  brilliancy  and  luxuri- 
ance of  colouring. 

It  does  not  always  happen  that  the  third 
Part  of  a  publication  equals  its  first.  This 
we  are  glad  to  perceive  is  the  case  with  the 
Landscape  Illustrations  of  the  Waverley 
Novels.  In  the  present  number,  Mirkwood 
Mere,  from  a  design  by  Barret — and  Solway 
.Firth,  from  a  design  by  Copley  Fielding — 
are  our  favourites.  The  clear  transparent  sha- 
dows in  the  first  of  these  are  exquisite.  They 
are  both  calculated  to  shed  a  lustre  upon  the 
scenes  that  have  suggested  them  ;  and  both 


Fine  Arts'  Exhibitions. 


237 


of  them  do  honour  to  the  graver  of  Edward 
Finden. 

"  Junius,"  and  the  "  Waverley  Novels" 
are  splendid  examples  of  the  policy,  upon 
occasion,  of  concealing  a  name  ;  and,  in  a 
minor  sense,  "  The  Devil's  Walk"  is  an 
additional  evidence.  We  wish  Mr.  Southey 
would,  like  a  penitent  father,  acknowledge 
the  illegitimate  offspring  of  his  satirical 
amours.  It  is  really  dangerous  to  let  these 
nameless  orphans  of  verse  wander  about  the 
world  ;  for  there  is  no  saying  where  accusa- 
tion will  stop ;  and  every  man,  though  with 
sins  enough  of  his  own  to  answer  for,  is 
likely  to  be  suspected.  Besides,  the  mystery 
which  makes  them  popular,  generally  gives 
rise  to  some  absurd  and  barbarous  carica- 
ture— as  is  the  case  in  the  present  instance  ; 
Mr.  Southey's  unaccountable  modesty,  or 
obstinacy,  has  been  an  accessory  before  the 
fact,  has  indirectly  occasioned  the  perpetra- 
tion of  a  Real  DeviVs  Walk,  certainly  not 
by  Professor  Porson.  In  this  production 
there  is  much  pretension  and  little  point ;  a 
great  deal  of  good-natured  satire  thrown 
away,  and  a  marvellous  quantity  of  wit, 
which  will  be  of  no  use  to  any  but  the 
owner.  In  one  point,  however,  we  are 
bound  to  admit,  that  the  satire  by  many 
degrees  exceeds  its  original— and  that  is 
in  the  badness  of  its  versification.  Any 
thing  more  irresistibly  dull,  more  excrucia- 
tingly melancholy,  we  have  not  seen  since 
the  last  new  comedy.  But  then  there  are 
designs — "  designs  by  Cruickshank;" — this 
is  very  true — but  alack  !  they  are  by  Robert 
Cruickshank !  "  Ah  !  how  unlike  my 
Beverley!"  The  love-feast,  and  the  meet- 
ing between  Satan  and  his  biographer, 
Montgomery,  are  the  most  humorous ; 
"  Blue-stocking  Hall"  is  better  in  idea 
than  execution.  But  we  would  ask  the 
author,  or  the  artist,  of  this  poor  little  produc- 
tion, where  the  wit  is  of  caricaturing  a  certain 
individual  in  the  person  of  Satan  ?  Surely 
they  must  have  been  lamentably  short  of 
ideas  when  they  were  obliged  to  have  re- 
course to  such  a  miserable  expedient  to 
render  their  project  popular. 

Portrait  of  Her  Royal  Highness  the 
Duchess  of  Cumberland.  —  This  'highly 
finished  engraving  is  to  form  the  frontis- 
piece to  one  of  the  Nos.  of  LA  BELLE 
ASSEMBLEE.  It  is  in  Thomson's  best 
style,  from  a  drawing  by  a  foreign  artist 
long  resident  in  England,  M.  Carbonnier. 
The  execution  of  the  face  is  extremely 
beautiful;  and  though,  perhaps,  it  would 
have  been  a  more  striking  likeness  a  year 
or  two  back,  it  may  still  be  considered  a 
good  resemblance. 


238 


WORKS  IN  THE  PRESS  AND  NEW  PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS    IN    PREPARATION. 

A  History  of  the  County  Palatine  of 
Lancaster.  By  Edward  Baines,  Esq. 

Views  in  India,  from  Sketches  by  Cap- 
tain Robert  Elliott,  R.N.  Each  Number 
will  contain  Three  highly-finished  Engrav- 
ings, with  descriptive  Letter-Press. 

Mothers  and  Daughters,  a  Tale  of  the 
Year  1830,  3  vols. 

Russell ;  or,  the  Reign  of  Fashion.  By 
the  Author  of  Winter  in  London.  3  vols. 

A  Treatise  on  Pulmonary  Consumption  ; 
its  Prevention  and  Remedy.  By  John 
Murray,  F.S.A.,  &c.  12mo. 

Elements  of  Greek  Prosody.  Trans- 
lated from  the  German  of  Dr.  Franz  Spitz- 
ner. 

Elements  of  Greek  Accentuation.  Trans- 
lated from  the  German  of  Goettling,  in  8vo. 

Le  Keepsake  Fran9ais,  ou  Souvenir  de  la 
Litterature  Contemporaine.  Embellished 
with  Eighteen  Engravings,  on  Steel,  by  the 
first  Artists.  8vo.  To  be  published  in  Oc- 
tober. 

The  Alexandrians.  A  Novel.  2  vols. 
12mo. 

A  New  Volume  of  the  Transactions  of 
the  King  and  Queen's  College  of  Phy- 
sicians in  Ireland.  Illustrated  with  En- 
gravings. 8vo. 

The  Revolt  of  the  Angels,  and  the  Fall 
from  Paradise,  an  Epic  Drama.  By  Ed- 
mund Reade,  Esq.,  author  of  Cain  the 
Wanderer. 

The  Heiress  of  Bruges,  a  Tale,  by  the 
author  of  Highways  and  Byways.  In  4  vols. 

Frescati's  ;  or,  Scenes  in  Paris.  In3vols. 

Stories  of  American  Life.  By  American 
Writers :  Edited  by  Mary  Russell  Mitford. 
3  vols. 

Retrospection  of  the  Stage,  by  the  late 
Mr.  John  Bernard,  Manager  of  the  Ameri- 
can Theatres.  2  vols. 

The  Turf,  a  Satirical  Novel.  In  2  vols. 

Murray's  Family  Library,  Juvenile  Series, 
No.  I,  will  be  published  on  the  1st  of  August. 

The  Countess  Verulam's  Portrait  is  in 
preparation  for  the  September  No.  of  La 
Belle  Assembled.  The  plate  is  being  en- 
graved from  Mr.  Hawkins'  beautiful  minia- 
ture of  this  very  beautiful  woman — and  if 
the  engraver  acquits  himself  as  well  as  the 
painter  has  done,  the  plate  will  prove  a  gem 
even  amongst  the  portraits  already  pub- 
lished in  La  Belle  Assembled. 

Dignities,  Feudal  and  Parliamentary,  the 
nature  and  functions  of  the  Aula  Regis, 
or  High  Court  of  Barons,  of  the  Magna 
Concilia,  and  of  the  Commune  Concilium 
Regni,  &c.  By  Sir  W.  Betham,  Ulster 
King  of  Arms. 

An  Historical  Sketch  of  the  Danmonii, 
or  Ancient  Inhabitants  of  Devonshire  and 
Cornwall.  By  Joseph  Chattaway. 


A  Treatise  on  the  Mineral  Springs  of 
Harrowgate.  By  Dr.  Hunter  of  Leeds. 

France  in  1829-30.     By  Lady  Morgan. 

The  Midsummer  Medley  for  1830,  a 
Series  of  Comic  Tales  and  Sketches.  By 
the  Author  of  Brambletye  House.  In 
2  vols. 

A  Narrative  of  a  Journey  over  land  to 
India.  By  Mrs.  Colonel  Elwood.  In  2  vols. 
8vo. 

The  Persian  Adventurer,  forming  a  Se- 
quel to  Kuzzilbash.  By  J.  B.  Fraser. 
In  3  vols. 

Private  Correspondence  of  Sir  Thomas 
Monro,  forming  a  Supplement  to  his  Me- 
moirs. In  1  vol.  8vo. 

Schola  Salernitana,  a  Poem  in  Latin 
Rhyme,  on  the  Preservation  of  Health.  By 
Giovanni  di  Milano.  An  English  Trans- 
lation and  Notes.  By  Sir  Alex.  Croke. 

Hampden's  Character,  Conduct,  and  Po- 
licy, as  well  as  those  of  his  Party.  By 
Lord  Nugent. 

Proceedings  whilst  in  the  Command  of 
Gibraltar,  and  when  Commander  of  the 
Forces  in  Portugal,  towards  a  full  and 
faithful  Narrative  of  the  Peninsular  War. 
By  Sir  Hew  Dalrymple. 

The  Anatomy  of  Society.  By  Mr.  St. 
John. 

An  Exposition  of  the  Doctrine  of  Original 
Sin.  By  a  Layman. 

The  Dramatic  Works  and  Poems  of 
Robert  Greene,  By  Mr.  Dyce,  uniform 
with  his  editions  of  Peele  and  Webster. 

Signor  Jean  de  Vega,  the  Spanish  Min- 
strel's Tour  through  Great  Britain,  in  1828 
and  1829.  5  vols.  8vo.  26s. 

The  Elements  of  the  Theory  of  Me- 
chanics. By  the  Rev.  R.  Walker,  M.A. 

LIST  OF  NEW  WORKS. 

BIOGRAPHY  AND  HISTORY. 

A  Panorama  of  the  Lakes,  Mountains, 
and  Picturesque  Scenery  of  Switzerland. 
By  Henry  Keller.  With  Directions  to 
Tourists,  &c.  12s.  plain,  or  11.  4s.  colrd. 

Royal  Naval  Biography  ;  or,  Memoirs  of 
the  Services  of  all  the  Flag-Officers.  By 
John  Marshall.  Supplement.  Part  IV. 
8vo.  15s, 

Constable's  Miscellany.  Vols.  ,55  and  56. 
Contents  :  Life  of  King  James  I.  By  Ro- 
bert Chalmers.  7s. 

Murray's  Family  Library.  No.  14 : 
Lives  of  British  Physicians.  18mo.  5s. 

Memoirs  of  Madame  du  Barri,  Mistress 
of  Louis  XV.  of  France.  Written  by  Her- 
self. Vol.  2.  12mo.  6s.  18mo.  3s. 

Brief  Memoirs  of  the  late  Thomas  James, 
D.D.,  Bishop  of  Calcutta.  By  Edward 
James,  M.A 

Personal  Memoirs  of  Pryce  Gordon,  Esq. 
2  vols.  8vo.  28s. 


J830.] 


List  of  New  Works. 


239 


Survey  of  Selkirkshire,  or  Etterick  Fo- 
rest ;  containing  the  Political,  Ecclesiasti- 
cal, and  Agricultural  State  of  this  County, 
folio,  7s.  6d.,  with  a  Map,  12s. 

Dr.  Lardner's  Cabinet  Cyclopedia. 
Vol.  8.  Contents :  The  first  Volume  of 
the  History  of  England.  By  Sir  James 
Mackintosh,  M.P.  6s. 

Biographical  Sketches  of  Eminent  Cha- 
racters, compiled  from  various  authors.  By 
Rev.  J.  Ewart.  8vo.  10s.  6d. 

The  Geography1  and  Topography  of  the 
Canadas  and  the  other  British  North  Ame- 
rican Provinces.  With  Maps.  By  Lieut.  - 
CoL  Bouchette. 

EDUCATION. 

A  Short  Grammatical  Index  to  the  He- 
brew Text  of  the  Book  of  Genesis  ;  to 
which  is  prefixed  a  Compendious  Hebrew 
Grammar.  By  the  Rev.  Thomas  Jarrett, 
M.  A.,  Fellow  of  Catherine  Hall,  Cambridge. 
]2mo.  6s. 

Classical  Family  Library,  No.  7-  Con- 
tents :  the  third  and  last  volume  of  Hero- 
dotus. 18mo.  4s.  6d. 

An  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Ancient 
Geography.  With  Copious  Indexes.  By 
Peter  Edmund  Laurent,  of  the  Royal  Naval 
College,  Portsmouth.  8vo.  14s. 

LAW. 

Petersdorf's  Law  Student's  Common- 
Place  Book.  4to.  18s. 

Petersdorf's  Law  Reports.  Vol.  14. 
royal  8vo.  31s.  6d.  boards. 

Rankin  on  Life  Assurances.     8vo.  6s. 

Garde's  Law  of  Evidence.     12mo.  6s. 

Holroyd  on  Patents  and  Inventions. 
8vo.  10s.  6d. 

Lee  on  Parish  Appeals.     12mo.  8s. 

Steer's  Parish  Law.     royal  8vo.     21s. 

Pocket  Dictionary  of  the  Law  of  Elec- 
tions. 12mo.  5s. 

Woolrych's  Law  of  Sewers.     8vo.  16s. 

An  Historical  Essay  on  the  Laws  and 
the  Government  of  Rome,  designed  as  an 
Introduction  to  the  Study  of  the  Civil  Law. 
By  G.  E.  P.  Burke,  Esq.  8vo.  10s.  6d. 

MATHEMATICS. 

The  Principia  of  Newton,  with  Notes, 
Examples,  and  Deductions  :  containing  all 
that  is  read  at  the  University  of  Cambridge. 
By  J.  M.  Wright,  B.A.  8vo.  10s.  6d. 

The  Principles  of  Hydrostatics  ;  trans- 
lated from  the  French  of  L.  B.  Francceur, 
with  additions.  8vo.  5s.  6d. 

A  Treatise  on  Algebra.  By  George 
Peacock,  M.A.,  F.R.S.,  &c.  Fellow  and 
Tutor  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  8vo. 
24s. 

MEDICAL. 

Remarks  on  the  Disease  called  Hydro- 
phobia Prophylactic  and  Curative.  By  J. 
Murray,  F.S.A.  12mo.  4s. 

An  Account  of  the  Varieties  in  the  Ar- 
terial System  of  the  Human  Body.  By  P. 
H.  Green,  A.B.,  Trinity  College,  Dublin. 
8vo.  4s. 


A  System  of  Medical  Nosology.  By  J. 
Macbraire,  M.D.L.E.  12mo.  5s. 

A  Concise  Treatise  on  Dislocations  and 
Fractures.  18mo.  4s.  6d. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

Prin ciples  of  Geology ;  being  an  Attempt 
to  explain  the  former  Changes  on  the  Earth's 
Surface,  &c.  By  Charles  Lydell,  Esq., 
F.RS.  2  vols.  Vol.  1,  8vo.  15s. 

Dissection  of  the  Saxon  Chronicle. 
12mo.  10s.  6d. 

Fifty-six  Engravings,  illustrative  of  Italy, 
a  Poem.  By  Samuel  Rogers,  Esq.  4to. 
proofs,  21.  12s.  6d.  ;  India,  31.  13s.  6d. 

A  Narrative  of  John  Arbbwinham,  of 
his  Attendance  on  King  Charles  the  First 
from  Oxford  to  the  Scotch  Army,  and  from 
Hampton  Court  to  the  Isle  of  Wight. 
Never  before  printed.  2  vols.  8vo.  21s. 

Narrative  of  the  Captivity  and  Adven- 
tures of  John  Tanner,  during  Thirty  Years' 
Residence  among  the  North  American  In- 
dians. 8vo.  17s. 

A  Guide  to  Jersey  and  Guernsey,  with 
Brief  Notices  of  Alderney,  Sark,  &c.  By 
B.  H.  Draper.  12mo.  3s. 

Transactions  of  the  Linnaean  Society, 
Vol.  16,  Part  2.  4to.  21.  sewed. 

The  Young  Baronet.     18mo.  2s.  hf.  bd. 

The  Orphan's  Choice.  18mo.  Is.  6d. 
half  bound. 

Irish  Cottagers.  By  Mr.  Martin  Doyle, 
Author  of  Hints  to  Small  Farmers.  12mo. 

Sylva  Britannica,  or  Portraits  of  Forest 
Trees,  distinguished  for  their  Antiquity, 
Magnitude,  and  Beauty.  By,  J.  G.  Strutt. 
Imperial  8vo.  31.  3s. 

NOVELS    AND    TALES. 

The  Templars;  an  Historical  Novel. 
In  3  vols.  12mo.  27s. 

The  Oxonians,  a  Glance  at  Society.  By 
the  Author  of  "  The  Roue'."  In  3  vols. 
11.  11s.  6d. 

Southennan.  By  John  Gait,  Esq.  In 
3  vols.  Post  8vo.  11.  11s.  6d. 

Journal  of  the  Heart.  Edited  by  the 
Authoress  of  "  Flirtation."  Post  8vo. 
10s.  6d* 

Traditions  of  Palestine.  Edited  by  Har- 
riet Martineau.  Post  8vo.  6s. 

Legendary  Tales,  in  Verse  and  Prose. 
Collected  by  H.  Fox  Talbot,  Esq.  12mo. 
7s.  6d. 

The  Suttee,  or  the  Hindoo  Converts.  By 
Mrs.  General  Mainwaring.  A  Novel.  In 
3  vols.  18s. 

POETRY. 

Songs  of  the  Affections,  with  other  Poems. 
By  Felicia  Hemans.  12mo.  7s. 

Album  Verses. — The  Wife's  Trial,  and 
other  Poems.  By  Charles  Lamb.  12mo. 
7s. 

Wallenstein's  Camp,  from  the  German, 
and  Original  Poems.  By  Lord  Francis 
Gower.  12mo.  5s.  6d. 

Matilda,  a  Poem,  in  Six  Books.  By  H. 
Ingram,  Author  of  "  The  Flower  of  Wye." 
8vo.  12s. 


240 


List  of  New  Works. 


The  Captive  of  Fez;  a  Poem,  in  Five 
Cantos.  By  Thomas  Ami.  12mo.  6s. 

Poems,  chiefly  Lyrical.  By  Alfred  Ten- 
nyson. 12mo.  5s. 

O'Donoghue,  Prince  of  Killarney,a  Poem, 
in  Seven  Cantos.  By  Hannah  Maria  Bourke. 
I2mo.  6s. 

POLITICAL. 

An  Inquiry  as  to  the  Expediency  of  a 
County  Asylum  for  Pauper  Lunatics.  By 
William  Palmer,  D.D. 

RELIGION    AND    MORALS. 

Baxter's  Works.  23  vols.  8vo.  121.  12s. 
Ditto  Life  and  Times.  2  vols.  8vo.  21s. 


The  Gospels ;  with  -Moral  Reflections  on 
each  Verse.  By  Pasquier  Quesnel.  With 
an  Introductory  Essay.  By  the  Rev.  Daniel 
Wilson,  A.M.  In  3  vols.  12mb.  18s. 

Discourses  on  the  Millennium,  the  Doc- 
trine  of  Election,  Justification  by  Faith. 
By  the  Rev.  M.  Russell,  LL.D.  12mo. 
7s.  6d. 

.  Essays  on  the  Lives  of  Cowper,  Newton, 
and  Heber  ;  or,  Examination  of  the  Evi- 
dence  of  the  Course  of  Nature  being  inter- 
rupted by  the  Divine  Government.  8vo. 
10s. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  MEMOIRS  OF  EMINENT  PERSONS. 


M.    PRU.DHOMME. 

This  gentleman,  the  oldest  of  the  Paris 
journalists,  editor  of  Le  Journal  des  Revo- 
lutions de  Paris,  which  commenced  in 
1789,  was  born  at  Lyons,  in  1752.  Ac- 
cording to  report,  he,  at  his  outset  in  life, 
was  a  bookseller's  shopman.  Afterwards, 
removing  from  Lyons,  he  set  up  as  a  book- 
binder at  Meaux.  A  few  years  before  the 
revolution  he  fixed  his  residence  at  Paris. 
There  he  ardently  embraced  the  new  prin- 
ciples, and  was  extensively  instrumental  in 
diffusing  them  ;  having,  it  is  said,  between 
the  commencement  of  the  year  1787?  and 
the  14th  of  July,  1789,  published  upwards 
of  one  thousand  five  hundred  political  pam- 
phlets, of  some  of  which  one  hundred  thou- 
sand copies  were  thrown  into  circulation* 
It  was  a  remark  of  Prudhomrne's  enemies, 
that  he  wore  out  all  the  pens  of  all  the 
Parisian  gazetteers. 

It  was,  as  we  have  intimated,  in  1789, 
that  M.  Prudhomme  established  Le  Jour- 
nal des  Revolutions  de  Paris,  the  motto  of 
which  was — "  The  great  seem  to  us  to  be 
great  only  because  we  are  on  our  knees :  let 


us  rise  !" — In  this  journal  the  government 
was  incessantly  assailed,  and  the  revolu- 
tionary measures  were  most  zealously  incul- 
cated. Prudhomme,  however,  was  far  from 
being  a  servile  partizan.  He  was  disgusted 
with  the  sanguinary  ferocity  of  Robespierre, 
and  he  attacked  the  tyrant  and  his  measures 
with  great  spirit.  The  consequence  of  this 
was  his  arrest  on  the  charge  of  being  a 
royalist.  The  fallacy  of  this  charge  being 
apparent,  he  soon  obtained  his  liberty  ;  not- 
withstanding which,  he  thought  it  advisable 
to  quit  Paris  with  his  family.  After  the 
downfall  of  Robespierre,  he  returned  to  the 
capital;  and  from  that  period  until  his 
death,  he  constantly  followed  the  trade  of  a 
bookseller. 

M.  Prudhomme  was  the  author  of  "  The 
General  History  of  Crimes  committed  during 
the  Revolution,"  in  six  volumes ;  and  of 
various  other  works,  chiefly  of  a  geographi- 
cal nature  ;  but  his  talents  were  not  consi- 
dered to  rank  above  mediocrity.  He  died 
at  Paris,  of  apoplexy,  about  the  close  of 
April,  or  commencement  of  May  last. 


PATENTS  FOR  MECHANICAL  AND  CHEMICAL  INVENTIONS. 


.To  Robert  Hicks,  Conduit-street,  Hanover- 
square,  Middlesex,  surgeon,  for  having  invented 
an  economical  apparatus  or  machine  to  be  applied 
in  the  process  of  baking,  for  the  purpose  of  saving 
materials.— Sealed  26th  June  ;  6  months. 

To  Edward  Turner,  Gower-street,  Middlesex, 
M.D.,  and  William  Shand,  of  the  Burn,  Kincar- 
dineshire,  Scotland,  Esq.,  for  having  invented 
a  new  method  of  purifying  and  whitening  sugars 
or  other  saccharine  matter. — 26th  June  ;  6  months. 

To  Moses  Poole,  Lincoln's-inn,  gentleman,  for 
improvements  in  the  apparatus  used  for  extract- 
ing molasses  or  syrup  from  sugar.— 2Gth  June  ; 
6  months. 

To  Samuel  Parker,  Argyle-street,  Oxford- 
street,  Middlesex,  bronzist,  for  improvements  in 
producing  mechanical  power  from  chemical  agents. 
— 29th  June  ;  6  months. 

To   Samuel  Parker,   Argyle- street,  Oxford- 


street,  Middlesex,  bronzist,  for  an  improved 
lamp — 1st  July  ;  6  months. 

To  Richard  Roberts,  Manchester,  Lancaster, 
civil  engineer,  for  improvements  in  the  mechanism 
employed  to  render  self-acting  the  machines 
known  by  the  names  of  mule,  billy,  jenny,  jack- 
frame,  or  stretching-frame,  and  all  other  ma- 
ckines  of  that  class,  whether  the  said  machines  be 
used  to  rove,  slub,  or  spin  cotton,  or  other  fibrous 
subntances. — 1st  July;  6  months. 

To  John  Henry  Clive,  Chell-house,  Stafford, 
Esq., for  improvements  in  the  construction  of  and 
machinery  for  locomotive  ploughs,  harrows,  and 
other  machines  and  carriages.  —  1st  July ;  6 
months. 

To  John  Harvey  Sadler,  Praed-street,  Pad- 
dington,  Middlesex,  engineer,  for  improvements  in 
looms.— 1st  July;  Smontus. 


1830.]                 Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons.  241 

To  Matthew  Uzielli,  Clifton-stieet,  Finsbuiy-  place,    gentleman,    for   their    improvements    in 

square,  Middlesex,  Gentlemen,  for  improvements  steam-carriages  and  in  boilers,  and  a  method  of 

in  the  preparation  of  metallic  substances,  and  the  producing  increase  draft.— 19th  July;  6  months, 

application  thereof  to  the  sheathing  of  ships  and  To  Thomas  Bulkeley,  Albany-street,  Regent's- 

other  purposes. — 6th  July;  6 months.  park,  Middlesex,  M.D.,  for  improvements  in  pro- 

To  John  Surinan,  Hounslow -barracks,  Middle-  pelling  ves-els,  which  improvements  are  also  ap« 
sex,  lieutenant  and  riding-master  in  the  Tenth  plicable  to  other  purposes.— 19th  July ;  6  months. 
Hussars,  for  improvements  on  bits  for  horses  and  To  William  Taylor,  Wednesbury,  Stafford,  en- 
other  animals. — 6th  July;  2  months.  gineer,  for  improvements  on  boilers  and  appara- 

To  William  Wedd  Tux  ford,  Boston,   Lincoln,  tus  connected  therewith,  applicable  to  steam-en- 
miller,  for  a  machine  or  apparatus  for  clea:  s'ng  gines  and  other  purposes.— 19th  July;  6  months, 
or  purifying  wheat,  grain,  or  other  substances.—  To  Edward  Riley,  Skinner-street,  Bishopsgatf- 
6th  July ;  6  months.  street,  Middlesex,  brewer,  for  improvements  in 

To  Edward  Cowper,  Streatham-place,  Surrey,  the  process  and  apparatus  for  fermenting  malt 

and  Ebenezer   Cowper,  Suffolk-street,  Pall-Mall  and  other  liquors.— 19th  July  ;  6  months. 

East,  Westminster,  Middlesex,  engineeis,  for  5m-  To  George  Oldland,  Hillsley.Hawkesbury.Glou- 

provements  on   printing  ^machines. —  19th  July;  cester,  clothworker,  for  improvements  in  the  ma- 

6  months.  chinery  or  apparatus  for  sheathing  and  dressing 

To  John  Rawe,  Junior,  Albany-street,  Regent's-  woollen   cloths  and  other  fabrics.  —  22d  July; 

park,  Middlesex,  and  John  Boase,  of  the  same  6  months. 


MONTHLY  AGRICULTURAL  REPORT. 

WE  have  the  satisfaction  to  commence  this  Report,  cheered  by  an  improvement  of  the 
weather,  and  the  hope  of  its  permanence,  assuring  us  of  the  recovery  and  amelioration 
of  the  too  generally  injured  crops.  The  month  commenced  with  rain,  accompanied  by  a 
north-east  wind,  and  with  alternate  heat  and  chills.  An  uncertain  and  unfavourable 
atmosphere  continued  until  the  14th ;  the  wind  veering  between  the  south-east,  north- 
west, and  north.  It  was  nevertheless  some  improvement  upon  the  weather  of  the  last 
month.  The  14th,  and  three  successive  days,  were  highly  favourable  and  in  season.  To 
the  present  day,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  light  and  flying  showers  and  westerly  winds, 
we  have  no  reason  of  complaint,  but  a  good  ground  of  hope  for  a  prosperous  harvest,  which, 
however,  cannot  be  early.  The  generally  unfortunate  state  of  the  country  has  been  too 
often  and  particularly  detailed  in  the  various  Reports,  to  need  repetition.  There  is  no 
doubt,  in  our  poor  low  and  wet  land  districts,  a  great  part  of  every  species  of  crop  which 
never  can  recover  from  the  long-continued  injuries  sustained.  On  such,  the  wheat  will 
not  produce  half  a  crop ;  the  barley  still  less  ;  nor  is  there  apparently  any  probability  of  a 
counteracting  advantage  either  in  any  of  the  other  crops,  or  in  a  successful  closing  of  the 
year's  account  of  live  stock.  From  the  northern  districts,  the  north-west,  and  south- 
west, including  Wales,  the  heaviest  complaints  seem  to  proceed ;  the  bishopric  of  Dur- 
ham and  Herefordshire  standing  unfortunately  prominent.  On  the  other  hand — and  a 
most  pleasant  and  heartening  turn  it  is— the  crops  on  our  rich  soils,  and  on  those  of 
medium  fertility,  but  sound  and  dry,  have  borne  the  brunt  of  all  the  past  rude  atmospheric 
shocks,  with  little,  but  happily  no  radical  injury,  and  have  been,  since  the  favourable 
change  of  weather,  progressing  in  a  steady  course  of  improvement.  Barley  and  oats  are 
probably  their  worst  crops,  the  former  materially  so,  on  too  heavy  lands.  On  the  best 
lands  of  Essex,  Herts,  Suffolk,  and  Norfolk,  the  wheats  are  large  and  luxuriant,  with 
full-sized  ears,  warranting  the  expectation  of  more  than  an  average  crop ;  an  advantage 
which  we  trust  extends  to  all  the  superior  corn  lands  of  the  country.  Some  time  since, 
the  blades  of  these  fine  wheats  were  yellow  and  rusty  from  blight ;  but  they  have  since 
recovered  a  shining  and  healthful  burnish,  and  it  is  hoped  that  the  blight  has  not,  to  any 
considerable  extent,  affected  intrinsically  the  ear.  On  that  interesting  point,  however,  we 
shall  have  more  certain  information  after  harvest.  During  the  ticklish  period  of  the 
flowering  process,  the  weather  was  wet  and  cold  ;  but  the  wind  (a  favourable  circumstance) 
was  not  constantly  in  the  most  dangerous  quarter.  Two  wet  seasons  have  nourished  a 
pestiferous  brood  of  slugs,  against  which  the  farmer  ought  not  to  fail  taking  every  possible 
remedy,  the  well-known  one  of  heavy  rolling  especially,  in  order  to  protect  the  next  crop 
of  young  wheats.  Wheat  and  beans  are  expected  to  be  the  most  productive  crops  ;  barley 
and  oats  the  least  so,  though  our  sanguine  friends  prognosticate  a  general  average  on  good 
lands,  hops  excepted ;  the  effect  on  which,  from  the  blight,  has  been  too  heavy.  Some 
fear  was  entertained  from  the  unsoundness  of  the  bean-seed,  and  the  excessive  foulness  of 
the  tilth  is  another  great  disadvantage,  though,  in  many  instances,  they  have  been  hoed 
at  the  expense  of  25s.  or  26s.  per  acre.  The  peas  also,  a  promising  plant,  partake  mate- 
rially of  this  disadvantage,  being  almost  generally  drilled  — a  hereditary  defect  among 
farmers — at  intervals  too  narrow  for  effective  hoeing,  even  on  far  cleaner  land  than  this 
year  presents.  The  fallows,  as  we  have  so  often  complained,  are  universally  foul ;  but  in 
the  poor  land  counties,  beyond  all  precedent,  since  the  days  of  our  great-grandfathers  ;  and 
we  have  lately  passed  over  some,  indeed  a  great  extent  of  land,  which,  from  the  luxuriance 


242  Agricultural  Report.  QAuct. 

and  height  of  the  couch,  wore  the  appearance  of  meadows  ready  for  the  scythe  !  We  were 
told  by  one  farmer  that  half-a-dozen  deep  ploughings  had  but  little  mended  the  matter. 
What  a  soil  this,  on  which  to  sow  that  crop  which  is  to  furnish  the  nation's  bread  !  Here 
we  have  a  cogent  reason  for  the  necessity  of  importation.  The  rams  continued  so  long, 
that  it  was  impossible,  until  of  late,  to  get  upon  the  heavy  lands  for  any  useful  or  effective 
purpose.  Turnips,  on  the  whole,  have  escaped  the  fly  beyond  expectation,  and  are  good 
on  well  tilled  turnip  soils :  on  heavy  and  foul  lands,  they  will  be  a  complete  failure.  They 
have  been  very  backward,  and  some  farmers  have  not  yet  finished  sowing.  That  impor- 
tant crop,  the  Swedes,  has  been  sown  too  late.  The  marygold  is  a  great  breadth,  and, 
since  the  change  of  weather,  promising.  Potatoes,  of  which  we  have  never  failed  of  late 
years  to  obtain  a  full  supply,  appear  generally  well  planted,  some  parts  of  the  North 
excepted,  where  much  apprehension  is  entertained  of  their  total  failure ;  indeed  where,  from 
the  state  of  the  lands,  they  have  scarcely  been  able  to  plant  them.  Latter  hay  harvest  will 
be  completed  in  perfect  condition,  but  the  hay  consequently  large  and  coarse ;  indeed,  the 
quantity  of  fine  hay  from  this  year's  crop  will  be  very  limited.  Clover  being  later,  has 
succeeded  best.  It  is  the  general  opinion  that  the  native  wheat  on  hand  will  all  be  at 
market  before  Michaelmas,  with  the  exception  of  that  holden  in  a  few  counties,  among 
which  Herts  stand  eminent,  as  one  whence  the  fewest  farming  complaints  have  issued. 

The  markets  for  live  stock  have  varied  little  from  the  last  reports.  An  abundance 
beyond  the  demand,  and  on  the  whole,  cheaper  ;  yet  in  some  parts— Berks,  for  example— 
store  sheep  and  lambs  have  sold  readily  to  graze  the  vast  quantities  keep.  The  larger 
store  cattle,  from  the  unfavourable  season,  and  even  the  want  of  grass  on  hilly  lands,  have 
not  been  in  the  good  condition  usual  at  this  time  of  the  year.  The  sheep  came  out  of 
their  wool  poor  and  weak,  and  a  number  have  actually  perished,  glandered,  from  the  old 
stupid  and  heartless  custom  of  exposing  the  creatures  naked,  by  night,  on  fields  and  com- 
mons, during  wet  and  cold !  Pity,  but  these  Arcadians,  so  full  of  sensibility  and  com- 
mon-sense, had  themselves  a  taste  '  But  what  then  are  we  to  say  of  certain  learned  phy- 
sicians and  veterinarians,  who,  within  memory,  turned  out  horses,  accustomed  to  stand 
clothed  in  warm  stables,  naked,  abroad  in  a  winter's  night,  by  way  of  making  experiment 
of  the  possibility  of  cold-catching  ?  The  complaint  continues  that  nothing  is  acquired 
either  by  fat  or  lean  stock.  Swine  are  said  to  pay  nothing  since  the  decline  of  price,  in 
which  we  suspect  some  mismanagement  or  neglect.  In  some  parts,  particularly  Suffolk, 
fruit  and  potatoes  are  reported  extremely  plentiful  and  cheap  :  in  and  near  the  metropolis, 
fruit  is  indeed  plentiful,  but  deficient  in  flavour,  and  dear.  Butter  and  cheese  in  the  dairy 
counties  continue  low  in  price,  and  in  great  plenty.  The  retailers  of  these  articles  in 
towns  must  be  making  a  good  thing  of  it.  Game  has  suffered  much  from  the  weather, 
partridges  particularly.  The  demand  for  wool  continues. 

From  Scotland,  our  letters  give  us  the  comfortable  hope  of  a  full  average  of  all  the  crops, 
with,  however,  an  apprehensive  salvo  on  the  score  of  their  wheat-fly,  to  which  we  lately 
adverted,  and  which  they  aver  has  diminished  their  wheat-crop  more  than  a  third,  during 
the  last  three  years.  They  describe  it  as  a  species  formerly  unknown,  of  a  brown  and 
yellow  colour.  Although  their  description  does  not  exactly  tally  with  the  habits  of  the 
ancient  aphis,  or  wheat  blight  fly,  we  can  scarcely  conceive  either  a  new  creation  or  impor- 
tation of  flies,  but  rather  a  novel  and  more  sedulous  attention  in  the  observers.  In  Ireland, 
all  the  crops  are  represented  as  large,  that  of  wheat  the  most  extensive  hitherto  known. 
France  has  had  its  share  of  the  blessings  of  a  bad  season.  Their  corn  in  the  most  exposed 
districts  is  laid  so  flat,  that  much  of  it,  they  say,  can  never  rise  but  with  the  assistance  of 
the  sickle.  Their  wine-growers  and  merchants  are  still  making  heavy  complaints.  The 
cause  of  their  ill-success  is  probably  two-fold — over-production,  and  a  defect  of 
fiscal  knowledge  in  their  government.  That  fine  country,  nevertheless,  is  making  great 
strides  in  opulence  and  prosperity.  The  French,  ever  scientifically  alert,  have  of  late  not 
only  manufactured  bread  from  bones,  pain  animalite,  but  even  flour  from  straw ! 

With  us,  feeding  milch-cows  with  malt-dust  (combs),  in  order  to  increase  the  milk, 
— a  practice  of  ancient  days,  has  been  lately  revived,  and  even  almost  recommended  as  a 
novelty.  In  the  use  of  this  article,  it  ought  to  be  considered  that  great  part  of  it  must  con- 
sist of  dirt  and  impurity,  very  ill  calculated  to  benefit  the  stomach  or  digestion  of  the 
animals ;  on  which  account,  probably,  Mr.  Cramp,  an  eminent  publishing  cow -feeder 
twenty  years  since,  allowed  but  li#te  malt-dust  in  a  feed.  Even  at  this  season,  many 
labourers  are  out  of  employ  in  various  parts  of  the  country. 

Smithfteld—Eeef  3s.  4d.  to  4s.  2d — Mutton,  3s.  4d.  to  4s.  8d Lamb,  4s.  4d.  to 

6s.  8s. — Veal,  4s.  to  5s.  lOd. — Pork,  3s.  to  5s. — Raw  fat,  2s.  Id.  per  stone. 

Corn  Exchange — Wheat,  54s.   to  88s.  (best  foreign) — Barley,  24s.  to  38s — Oats, 

22s.  to  33s — Fine  Bread,  the  London  4  Ib.  Loaf,  lO^d — Hay,  60s.  to  120s.  per  load 

Clover,  ditto  75s.  to  125s. — Straw,  51s.  to  65s. 

Coals  in  the  Pool,  28s.  to  35s.  6d.  per  chaldron. 
Middlesex,  July  23. 

Erratum.— End  of  last  month's  Report,  for  rightful  read  frightful. 


1830.]  [    243    ] 


MONTHLY  COMMERCIAL  REPORT. 

SUGAR.— About  3,500  hogsheads  and  tierces  of  Muscovadoes  were  sold  last  week,  and 
generally  at  a  reduction  of  1  s.  per  cwt.,  making  the  fall  of  market  prices,  since  the  sugar 
duty  question,  from  2s.  to  3s. ;  so  that  the  planter  derives  no  benefit  from  the  late  low 
average.  Brown  Muscovadoe  Sugar,  26s.  9f  d.  per  cwt. ;  1,000  hogsheads  Barbadoes  sold 
•  at  full  prices ;  the  market  was  nearly  cleared  of  goods,  the  wholesale  grocers  having  taken 
off  parcels  of  fine,  suitable  for  home  consumption,  at  generally  an  advance  of  2s. ;  the  ship, 
pers  evince  a  desire  of  shipping,  previously  to  the  5th  of  September,  the  day  when  the 
reduced  bounty  takes  place.  The  purchases  of  foreign,  last  week,  were  about  300  chests ; 
Pernams  at  rather  lower  rates,  26s.  to  28s.  The  fall  in  East  India  sugar  since  the  duty 
is  about  3s.  per  cwt.  ;  the  Mauritius  is  fallen  lately  3s. — the  sale  at  the  India  House, 
15,000  bags ;  white  Bengal  sold  freely,  making  a  fall  of  3s.  in  market  prices  since  the 
alteration  of  the  duty  ;  white  ordinary,  27s.  to  30s.  ;  good,  31s.  to  34s. ;  fine,  35s.  to 
37s.— 565  bags ;  China  sugar,  fine  white,  30s.  to  33s.  6d. ;  yellow,  26s.  6d.  to  29s — 307 
bags ;  Siam,  22s.  6d.  to  26s.  There  are  few  West  India  molasses  left  at  market ;  the  last 
parcel  sold  at  21s.  The  new  bounty  begins  the  5th  of  September. 

COFFEE. — Nearly  2,000  casks  of  Jamaica  were  sold  at  full  market  prices,  except  a  few 
lots  of  iine,  ordinary,  and  middling,  which  sold  rather  lower.  The  Demerara  Berbice 
coffee  went  off  heavily,  at  rather  lower  prices  ;  Dominica,  1  s.  lower ;  good  old  Brazil, 
32s.  Gd.  By  public  sale,  226  casks ;  British  plantation,  621  bags.  East  India?  Java, 
and  Sumatra  sold  rather  lower — 26s.  6d.  to  29s.  6d.  Jamaica,  Is.  higher. 

RUM,  BRANDY,  HOLLANDS. — There  have  been  considerable  parcels  of  Jamaica  rum 
sold ;  fine  about  3s.  2d.,  and  favourite  marks  at  3s.  6d.  Lewards  are  at  rather  lower 
prices ;  proofs  to  5  over,  Is.  9d.  Brandy  is  held  with  much  firmness.  Geneva  is  unva- 
ried. Sales  of  Brandy  are  reported — parcels  bought  at  3s.  3d. ;  excellent  at  3s.  4d.  to 
3s.  5d. 

HEMP,  FLAX,  AND  TALLOW. — The  prices  have  advanced  3d.  to  6d.  per  cwt. ;  the 
market  is  firm  at  the  improvement.  Hemp  is  rather  lower ;  Flax  is  unvaried.  Exchange, 
10.  15.  32.  Tallow,  96  to  96|. 

Course  of  Foreign  Exchange — Amsterdam,  12.  7« — Rotterdam,   12.  7« — Antwerp, 

12.  6 Hamburgh,  14.  0 Paris,  25.  90 — Bordeaux,  25.  90 — Berlin,  0 Frankfort, 

on-the-Main,    154.  0 — Petersburg,    10| — Vienna,    10.    14 — Madrid,  36.   0 — Cadiz, 

36.  0| Bilboa,    36.  0.— Barcelona,    36.    0 — SeviUe,    36.  0 — Gibraltar,    41.  0| — 

Leghorn,  48.  0 — Genoa,  25.  75 — Venice,  47.  0| — Malta,  48.  0| — Naples,  39.  Of.— 
Palermo,  119.  0 — Lisbon,  44.  0 — Oporto,  44.  0 — Rio  Janeiro,  22.  0£ — Bahia,29.0. 
—Dublin,  1.  Oi — Cork,  1.  0|. 

Bullion  per  Oz — Portugal    Gold    in    Coin,    £0.  Os.  Od — Foreign    Gold    in    Bars, 

£3-  17s.  9d New  Doubloons,  £0.  Os.  Od. — New  Dollars,  £0.  4s.  9^d. — Silver  in  Bars 

(standard),  £0.  4s.  llfd. 

Premiums  on  Shares  and  Canals,  and  Joint  Stock  Companies,  at  the  Office  of 
WOLFE,  Brothers,  23,  Change  Alley,  CornhilL — Birmingham  CANAL,  (|  sh.)  291/. — 

Coventry,  8501 Ellesmere  and  Chester,  90/. — Grand  Junction,  286|/. — Kennet  and  Avon, 

29/ Leeds  and  Liverpool,  4621 — Oxford,  635^.— Regent's,  23^.— Trent  and  Mersey, 

(J  sh.),  760^.— Warwick  and  Birmingham,  284/._London  DOCKS  (Stock),  79^ — West 
India  (Stock),  1921. — East  London  WATERWORKS,  1251 — Grand  Junction,  561. — 
West  Middlesex,  801. — Alliance  British  and  Foreign  INSURANCE,  10/. — Globe,  159£/. 

Guardian,  28/. — Hope  Life,  1\L — Imperial  Fire,    122/.— GAS-LIGHT   Westminster 

chartered  Company,  59£/.— City,  19 1/.— British,  1^  dis — Leeds,  1951. 


ALPHABETICAL  LIST  OF  BANKRUPTCIES, 

Announced  from  June  23d,  to  July  23d,  1830,  in  the  London  Gazette. 

BANKRUPTCIES  SUPER-         Buckley,      j.,      Ashton-under-Lyne,  court;     Crickmay,     Great     Yar. 

gingham-manufacturer  month 


BANKRUPTCIES.  ', 

Ayle?,  T.,  Weyrr.outh,  ship-builder       .              rTV.*     TVT       *V,    IftO  1  croft,  Liverpool 

Pedrorena,  M.  de,  South-street,  Fins-                 [  1  ms  IVlOntn,  1UO.  J  Ainley,   F.,    Doncaster,    corn-factor  . 

bury,  merchant                                            Solicitors'  JVames  are  in  (Lever,    Gray's-inn;    Fisher,  Don- 

Spurrier,  c.,   P.  Johff,    and  w.   j.                       Parenthesis  caster 

Spurrier,  Poo'e,  merchants  Amos,  T.,  Lemon-street,  hat-maker. 

Cooper,  H.,  Threadnetdle-street,  m«r-       Athcw,   B.,    Little  Farnbam,  grocer.  (Reynolds,  Kingsland-road 

chant                                                           IDawson    and   Co.,   New  Boswell-  Brown,  J.  T.,  Busb-jane,  wine-mer- 

2  H   2 


Bigg 
(V 


244 

chant.  (Town?)  Broid-srrect-buiM- 
iugs 

Burls,  C.,  Cateaton-street,  merchant. 
(Hannington  and  Co.,  Carey-lane 

Berncastle,  S.  N.,  and  S.  Soloman, 
Brighton  and  Lewes,  jewellers. 
(Smith,  Gordon-square 

Bale.  T.,  Manchester,  innkeeper. 
(Cole,  Serjeant's-inn  ;  Dunvile, 
Manchester 

Brooks,  S.,  Bali's  Pond,  nurseryman. 
(Bourdillon,  Winchester-street 

Briggs,  J.  Leeds,  bricklayer.  (Smith- 
son  and  Co.,  New-inn J  Kenyon, 
Leeds 

Booth,  R.  Chisworth,  cotton-spinner. 
(Ellis  and  Co.,  Chancery-lane  ; 
Hampson,  Manchester 

Burne,  W.,  and  L.  C.  Vane,  Birchin- 
lane,  clothiers.  (Corner,  South- 
wirk 

Bacon,  ].,  Tonbridge-place,  and 
Broad  -  street  -  building,  Dresden- 
worker.  (Parker,  Gray's-inn 

Briggs,  J.  Horsham,  victualler, 
(  Palmer  and  Co.,  Bedford-row 

Barton,  T.  M  ,  Eastwood,  grocer. 
(Wolston,  Furnival's-inn  j  Buttery, 
Nottingham 

Beswick,  S.,  Newington,  Surrey, 
builder.  (Waine,  Gray's-inn 

Barlow,  M.,  Salford,  publican.  (Nias, 
Copthall-court  ;  Nichclls,  Man- 
chester 

S8S,  W.,  Twiverton,  builder. 
(Williams,  Gray's-inn;  Watts  and 
Son,  Bath 

Cusins,  T.,  Little  Brook-street,  paper- 
hanger.  (Metcalfe,  Gray's-inn 

Clarke,  J.,  Aburgh,  farmer.  (Fair- 
bank,  Staple-inn  ;  Carthew  and  Son, 
Arleston 

Carter,  E.  T.  B.,  Cardiff,  brewer. 
(White,  Lincoln's-inn 

Chamberlain,  T..  Salisbury,  victual- 
ler. (Jones,  john-itreet ;  Bryant, 
Southampton 

Cooper,  T..  East  Dereham  merchant. 
(Ayton,  Milman  ;  Skipper,  Norwich 

Dale,  T.  W.,  Dorking,  corn-factor. 
(Hall,  Great  James-street 

Daniel,  C.  C.,  Norwich,  grocer. 
(Austin,  Gray's-inn;  Staff,  Nor- 
wich 

Davis,  W.,  Newbury,  upholsterer. 
(Baker,  Nicholas-lane  ;  Baker, 
Newbury 

Elli«,  J.,  Chester,  brewer.  (Philpot 
and  Co.,  Southampton-street ;  Fen- 
chett  and  Co.,  Chester 

Fisher,  W.,  Whitehaven,  draper. 
(Falcon,  Temple 

Garrett,  C.,  West  Lavington,  meal- 
man.  (Williams,  Gray's-iun  ;  Watts 
and  Son,  Bath 

Gorham,  R.,  Woolwicli,  tallow-chand- 
ler. (Nokes  and  Co.,  Woolwich 

Griffiths,  W.,  Brecon,  linen-draper. 
(Jenkins  and  Co.,  New-inn  ;  Clarke 
and  Son,  Bristol 

Gravenor,  S.,  Spitalficlds,  hat-manu- 
facturer. (Isaacs,  Mansell-street 

Gray,  J.,  Bermondsey,  master-ma- 
riner and  wine-merchant.  Brooking 
and  Co.,  Lombard-street 

Hubbard,  Z.,  Kentish  Town,  flour- 
facror.  (Church,  Great  James-street 

Haskin,  W.,  Quadrant,  jeweller.  (Or- 
chard, Hatton  Garden 

Hopwood,  J.  J.,  Chancery-lane, 
auctioneer  (Hensman,  Bond-court 

Hallet,  j.,Lyme  Regis,  watch-maker. 
Copeland,  Gray's-inn 

Hanbury,  J.,  Bartlett's-building?, 
warehouseman.  (Battye  and  Co., 
Chancery-lane  ;  Higham,  Mill- 
bridge,  Leeds 

Hubbert,  J.  H.,  Miniories,  tobacco- 
broker.  (Meymott  and  Son 

Huline,  J..  '  Museum-street,  pawn- 
broker. (Chell,  Clement's-inn 

Hulme,  J.,  Stepney,  victualler. 
(Bennet,  Old  Broad-street 


Bankrupts. 


[Auo. 


Henshawj  S.,  Liverpool,  coach-pro- 
prietcr.  (Chesttr,  Staple-inn  j  Hiiule, 
L-.verppol 

Hawkins,  J.,  Eastern,  grocer.  (Til- 
bury and  Co.,  Falcon-street  ', 
Wooldridge  and  Co.,  Winchester  . 

Linney,  D.,  Liverpool,  draper.  (Nor- 
ris  and  Co.,  John-street,  Bedford- 
row 

Moore,  R.  T.,  Brixton,  late  Burton 
Crescent,  lodging  -  house  -  keeper. 
(Burt,  Mitre-court 

Madders,  J.,  Congle;on,  silk-throwster. 
(Hurd  and  Co.,  Temple;  Loney, 
Macclesfield 

Mulliner,  J.,  Northampton,  coach- 
niaker.  (Beaumont,  Golden-square 

Mapp,  J.,  and  J.  E  Clarke,  Birming- 
ham, timber-merchants.  (Norton 
and  Co  ,  Gray's-inn ;  Stubbs  and 
Co.,  Birmingham 

Masters,  R.,  Nethercote,  grazier. 
(Meyrick  and  Co.,  Red  Lion-square  ; 
Roche,  Daventry 

Moreland,  J.,  W.  Sloane,  C.  Denton, 
and  G.  Scott,  Horsleydown,  stone- 
merchants.  (Seward  and  Co.,  Staple- 
inn 

Marshall,  W.,  Manchester,  hosier. 
(Adlington  and  Co.,  Bedford-row  j 
Tayler,  WakefielU 

Milnes,  M.,  Sackville-street,  tailor. 
(Mayhew  and  Co.,  Carey -street 

Magnees,  G.  E.,  Sutton,  draper. 
(Wilson,  Temple 

Norcutt,  T.  G.,  Bagnigge  Wells, 
coal-dealer.  (Mayhew  and  Co., 
Carey-street 

Nicholson,  T.,  Kirton  in  Lindsey, 
scrivener.  (Eyre  and  Co.,  Gray's- 
inn  ;  Nicholson,  Glamford  Briggs 

Nazington,  W.,  Bil.-ti  n,  victualler. 
(Jessopp  and  Co  ,  Furnivars-iun  : 
Goode,  Dudley 

Nowland,  M.  A.,  Liverpool,  feather- 
dresser.  (Battyeand  Co.,  Chancery- 
lane;  Crump,  Liverpool 

Oftbrd,  w.,  Colchester.  (Coombe, 
Token-house-yard  ;  Church  and 
Sons,  Colchester 

Phillips,  G.,  Oxford-street,  confec- 
tioner. (Gadsden,  Furnival's-inn 

Panton,  A.,  Oxford-street,  bookseller. 
(Fisher,  Castle-street 

Paul,  O.,  East  Grinstead,  glazier. 
(Palmer  and  Co.,  Bedford-row 

Price,  S.,  Lambeth,  bookseller  (late 
of  the  Theatre  Royal,  Drury-lane). 
(Galsworthy,  CookVcourt 

Poulter,  J  ,  Mary-le-bone,  victualler. 
(Lloyd,  Bartlett's-buildings 

Pettit,  H.  J.,  Hastings,  jeweller. 
(Burt,  Lancaster-place 

Fhilp,  J.,  Bread-street,  warehouse- 
man. (Jones,  Size-laae 

Richardson,  j.  A.,  Adam-street, 
wine-merchant.  (Tomlins,  staple- 
inn 

Roberts,  W.,  Stanningly,  clothier. 
(Battye  and  Co.,  Chancery-lane  : 
I  ee,  Bradford 

Ronald,  R.  w.,  and  W.  Browne, 
Liverpool,  merchants.  (Lowes, 
Temple 

Roberts,  W.,  Burford,  corn-dealer. 
fUmney,  Chancery-lane  ;  Lee, 
Ducklington,  Oxon. 

Rideout,  T.  H.,  Rochdale,  liner- 
draper.  (Fryson  and  Co.,  Loth- 
bury 

Swire,  G.,  Norfolk-street,  bookseller. 
(Paston  and  Co ,  St.  Mildred's- 
cpurt 

Spriggs,  H.,  Leicester,  brace-manu- 
facturer. (Jeyes,  Chancery-lane  ; 
Greaves  and  Co.,  Leicester 

Smith,  j.,  Bristol,  innkeeper.  (Evans 
and  Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Perkins, 
Bristol 

Sedgwick,  T  ,  and  J.  Hearn,  Billiter- 
street,  merchants.  (Spyer,  Broad- 
street-buildings 

Shuttleworth,  J.,   Liverpool,  farmer. 


(Armstrong,  Staple-inn  ;  Lord, 
Wigan 

Spencer,  W.,  Manchester,  cotton- 
manufacturer  (Hurd  and  Co  , 
Temple;  Higson  and  Co.,  Man- 
chester 

Shawcro  s,  J.,  Darcey-Lever,  counter- 
pane-manufacturer. (Appleby  and 
Co.,  Gray's-inn 

Sainthill,  J.,  Tooley-street,  millstone- 
merchant.  (Piercy  and  Co.,  South- 
wark 

Spurrier,  C.,  P.  joliffe,  and  W.  J. 
Spurrier,  Poole,  merchants.  (Tees- 
dale  and  Co.,  Fenchurch-street 

Shaw,  H.,  Billericay,  grocer.  (Clut- 
ton  and  Co.,  Temple 

Salom,  B.,  Liverpool,  jeweller. 
( Yates  «nd  Co  ,  Bury-street 

Searl,  H.,  North  Shields,  wine-mer- 
chant. (Owen  and  Co.,  Mincing- 
lane 

Tylecote,  E.,  Great  Haywood,  sur- 
geon. (Dickinson  and  Co.,  Grace- 
church-street  ;  Passman,  Stafford 

Tarbuck,  J.,  Liverpool,  builder. 
(Perkins  and  Co.,  Gray's-inn  ; 
Forrest  and  Co  ,  Liverpool 

Taylor,  J.,  Bewdley,  victualler, 
(jenings  and  Co  ,  Temple  ;  Win- 
nail,  Stourport 

Treharne,  J.,  Cwmllethrig,  farmer. 
(Poole  and  Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Jones, 
Carmarthen 

Tilney,  T.,  sen.,  stone-mason. 
(Smithson  and  Co.,  New-inn  ;  Ken- 
yon,  Leeds 

Thomas,  j.,  Carnarvon,  cabinet- 
maker. (Morris  and  Co  ,  John- 
street  ;  Silcock,  Liverpool 

Taylor,  W.,  Birmingham,  currier. 
(Byrne.  Cnok's-court  ;  Mole  and 
Son,  Birmingham 

Taylor,  F.  H.,  Manchester,  publican. 
(Jackson,  New-inn;  Clay  and  Co  , 
Manchester 

Tabberer,  W.,  Great  Wigston,  tim- 
ber-merchant. (Austen  and  Co., 
Gray's-inn 

Thomas,  E  ,  Liverpool,  builder. 
(Adlington  and  Co..  Bedford-row 

Twort,  D.,  Horsmonden,  miller. 
(Hore,  Serle-street ;  Jetftrey,  Maid- 
stone 

Turnbull,  w.,  Upper  Grafton-street, 
music-seller.  (Edwards,  Mitre- 
court 

Tomes,  E.,  Bicester,  grocer.  (Amory 
and  Co.,  Throgmorton-street 

Tickle,  H.,  Maryport,  ironmonger. 
(Harris,  King's-arms-yard  ;  Thom- 
son, Maryport 

Turner,  j.,  Godley,  cotton-fpinrer. 
(Makinson  and  Co.,  Temple  ; 
Atkinson  and  Co.,  Manchester 

Urwick,  E.,  Cow  Cross,  victualler. 
(Rochford,  Stones'-end 

Vann,  R.,  Braunston,  coal-merchant. 
(Fuller  and  Co.,  Carlton- chambers  ; 
Wratislaw,  Rugby 

Voss,  D.,  Upper  Thames-street,  light- 
erman. (Kirkman  and  Co.,  Can- 
non-street 

Valentine,  p.,  Bury,  hardwareman. 
(Chilton  and  Co.,  Exchequer- 
office 

Ward,  W.  J.,  Deptford,  victualler. 
(Borradaile  and  Co.,  King's-arn:s- 
yard 

Wood,  W.,  Lambeth,  victualler. 
(Langley,  Clement's-inn 

Wales,  W.,  York,  flax-dresser.  (Con- 
stable and  Co.,  Symond's-inn  ; 
Jackman,  York 

Wheeler,  J.,  King's-arms-yard,  wine- 
merchant.  (Evani,  Gray's-inn 

Walker,  A.,  Woiverhampton,  dealer. 
( Lowes,  Temple 

Wyatt,  H.,  Acton  Hill,  farmer. 
(Clowes  and  Co.,  Temple 

Yates,  J.,  Otley,  joiner,  (tlakelock 
and  Co.,  Serjeant's-inn  j  Nicholson 
and  Co.,  Leeds. 


1830.] 


C    245 


ECCLESIASTICAL  PREFERMENTS. 


Rev.  L.  Larking,  to  the  Vicarage  of  Ryarsh, 
Kent.— Rev.  D.  Jones,  to  the  Vicarage  of  Llan- 
dewi,  Velfry.and  Rectory  of  Crinew,  Pembroke.— 
Rev.  J.  Hodge,  to  the  Vicarage  of  Colhumptoii, 
Devon.— Hon.  Rev.  C.  Bathurst,to  the  Rectory  of 
Southam,  Warwick.— Rev.  Lord  T.  Hay,  to  the 
Rectory  of  Rendlesham,  Suffolk.— Rev.  F.  T. 
Attwood,to  the  Rectory  of  Butterleigh,  Devon.— 
Revs.  E.  G.  A.  Beckwith,  H.  Butterfield,  R.  J. 
Waters,  to  be  Minor  Canons  of  St.  Paul's  Cathe- 
dral.— Rev.  Dr.  Monk  is  elected  Bishop  of  Glou- 
cester.— Rev.  W.  Hazel,  to  be  head  master  of 
Portsmouth  Grammar  School.— Rev.  H.  B.  Hall, 
to  be  head  master  of  Risley  Grammar  School.— 
Rev.  W.  A.  W.  Keppel,  to  the  Rectory  of  Bramp- 
ton,  Norfolk. -Rev.  T.  G.  Penn,  to  Edington  aud 


Chilton-super-Podden  perpetual  and  augmented 
Curacies,  Somerset. — Rev.  B.  J,  Phipps,  to  Stoke 
Lane  Cnracy,  Somerset.— Rev.  J.  Gunn,  to  be 
Chaplain  to  the  Duke  of  Sussex.— Rev.  T.  B. 
Gwyn,  to  the  Vicarage  of  St.  Ishmael's,  Carmar- 
then.-'Rev.  J.  Gabbett,  to  the  Curacy  of  Kils- 
cannell,  Limerick.— Rev.  T.  C.  Boone,  to  the 
"Vicarage  of  Kensworth,  Herts.— Rev.  P.  Hunt,  to 
the  Deanery  of  Peterborough.— Rev.  J.  T.Powell, 
to  the  Vicarage  of  Stretton,  Dunsmore,  Warwick. 
—Rev.  G.  Gleed,  to  the  vicarage  of  Chalfort  St. 
Peter's,  Bucks.  — Rev.  E.  O.  WingfieM,  to  the 
Rectory  of  Tickencote,  Rutland.— Rev.  J.  Lever, 
to  the  Vicarage  of  Tullamore,  Meath,— Rev.  J, 
Image,  to  Senior  Fellowship  of  Dulwicb  College, 


CHRONOLOGY,  MARRIAGES,  DEATHS,  ETC. 


CHRONOLOGY. 

June  26.  Prince  William  Henry,  Duke  of  Cla- 
'rence,  proclaimed  by  the  Lords  spiritual  and  tem- 
.poral  of  this  realm,  King  of  the  United  Kingdom 
of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  by  the  name  of  Wil- 
liam IV.,  assisted  by  his  late  Majesty's  Privy 
Council,  and  numbers  of  other  principal  gentle- 
men of  quality,  with  the  Lord  Mayor,  Aldermen, 
and  citizens  of  London,  assembled  at  St.  James's 
Palace. 

28.  Earl  Marshal's  order  for  general  mourning 
for  George  IV.  published. 

29.  His  Majesty  sent  the  following  message  to 
both  Houses  of  Parliament :—"  WILLIAM  R.— 
The  King  feels  assured  that  the  House  of  Lords 
entertains  a  just  sense  of    the   loss   which  His 
Majesty  and  the  country  have  sustained   in   the 
death  of  His  Majesty's  lamented  brother,  the  late 
King,  and  that  the  House  of  Lords  sympathizes 
with  His  Majesty  in  the  deep  affliction  in  which 
His  Majesty  is  plunged  by  this  mournful  event. 
The  King,  taking  into  his  serious  consideration 
the  advanced  period  of  the  Session,  and  the  state 
of  the  public  business,  feels  unwilling  to  recom- 
mend the  introduction  of  any  new  matter,  which, 
by  its  postponement  would  tend  to  the  detriment 
of  the  public  service.    His  Majesty  has  adverted 
to  the  provisions  of  the  law  which  decrees  the  ter- 
mination  of  Parliament  within   an  early  period 
after  the  demise  of  the  Crown,  and  His  Majesty, 
being  of  opinion  that  it  will  be  most  conducive  to 
the  general  convenience  and  to  the  public  interests 
of  the  country,  to  call,  with  as  little  delay  as  pos- 
sible,   a   new   Parliament,  His   Majesty  recom- 
mends to  the  House  of  Lords  to  concur  in  making 
such  temporary  provision  as  may  be  requisite  for 
the  public  service  in  the  interval  that  may  elapse 
between  the  close  of  the  present  Session  and  the 
meeting    of  another   Parliament."  —  Addresses 
were  voted  to  His  Majesty  by  both  Houses. 

July  3.  The  37  criminals  under  sentence  of 
death  in  Newgate  were  informed  that  all  their 
•  lives  would  be  spared  by  the  merciful  clemency  of 
King  William  IV. 

5.  Abstract  of  the  Net  Produce  of  the  Revenue 


'published,  by  which  it  appears  that  the  decrease 
on  last  year  was  .£690,980,  and  that  of  the  last 
quarter  .£176,824. 
8.  Sessions  commenced  at  the  Old  Bailey. 

14.  Sessions  ended  at  the  Old  Bailey,  when  10 
convicts   received  sentence  of    death  ;    74  were 
transported,  and    several  were   ordered  for  im- 
prisonment in  the  House  of  Correction. 

15.  The  remains  of  his  late  Majesty  George  IV. 
were  interred  at  Windsor,  after  having  lain  in 
state  on  that  and  the  preceding  day. 

16.  Addresses  presented  to  the  King  by  the  two 
branches  of  the  City  of  London  Corporation. 

21.  Addresses  from  the  Universities  of  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  presented  to  the  King  on  bis  ac- 
cession. 

23.  Parliament  prorogued  by  His  Majesty  in 
person,  who  delivered  the  following  most  gracious 
speech : — 

"  My  Lords  and  Gentlemen — On  this  first  oc- 
casion of  meeting  you,  I  am  desirous  of  repeating 
to  you  in  person,  my  cordial  thanks  for  those  as- 
surances  of  sincere  sympathy  and  affectionate  at- 
tachment which  you  conveyed  tome  on  the  demise 
of  my  lamented  brother,  and  on  my  accession  to 
the  throne  of  my  ancestors. — I  ascend  that  throne 
with  a  deep  sense  of  the  sacred  duties  which  de- 
volve upon  me;  with  a  firm  reliance  on  the  affec- 
tion of  my  faithful  subjects,  and  on  the  support 
and  co-operation  of  Parliament ;  and  with  an 
humble  and  earnest  prayer  to  Almighty  God,  that 
he  will  prosper  my  anxious  endeavours  to  pro- 
mote the  happiness  of  a  free  and  loyal  people.— It 
is  with  the  utmost  satisfaction  that  I  find  myself 
enabled  to  congratulate  you  upon  the  great  tran- 
quillity of  Europe.  This  tranquillity  it  will  be  the 
object  of  my  constant  endeavours  to  preserve ; 
and  the  assurances  which  I  receive  from  my  allies, 
and  from  ail  foreign  powers,  are  dictated  in  a 
similar  spirit.— I  trust  that  the  good  understand- 
ing which  prevails  upon  subjects  of  common  in- 
terest, and  the  deep  concern  which  every  state 
must  have  in  maintaining  the  peace  of  the  world, 
will  ensure  the  satisfactory  settlement  of  those 
matters  which  still  remain  to  be  finally  arranged, 


246 


Chronology,  Marriages,  and  Deaths. 


[[AUG. 


"  Gentlemen  of  the  House  of  Commons— 1 
thank  you  for  the  supplies  which  you  have  granted, 
and  for  the  provision  which  you  have  made  for 
several  branches  of  the  puhlic  service,  during  that 
part  of  the  present  year  which  must  elapse  before 
a  new  Parliament  can  be 'assembled.  I  cordially 
congratulate  you  on  the  diminution  which  has 
taken  place  in  the  expenditure  of  the  country ;  on 
the  reduction  of  the  charge  of  the  public  debt; 
and  on  the  relief  which  you  have  afforded  to  my 
people  by  the  repeal  of  some  of  those  taxes  which 
have  heretofore  pressed  heavily  upon  them. — You 
may  rely  upon  my  prudent  and  economical  ad- 
ministration of  the  supplies  which  you  have  placed 
at  my  disposal,  and  upon  my  readiness  to  concur 
in  every  diminution  of  the  public  charges  which 
can  be  effected  consistently  with  the  dignity  of  the 
crown,  the  maintenance  of  national  faith,  and 
the  permanent  interests  of  the  country. 

"  My  Lords  and  Gentlemen — I  cannot  put  an 
end  to  this  session,  and  take  my  leave  of  the  pre- 
sent Parliament,  without  expressing  my  cordial 
thanks  for  the  zeal  which  you  have  manifested  on 
so  many  occasions  for  the  welfare  of  my  people. — 
You  have  wisely  availed  yourselves  of  the  happy 
opportunity  of  general  peace  and  internal  repose, 
calmly  to  review  many  of  the  laws  and  judicial 
establishments  of  the  countrv,  and  you  have  ap. 
plied  such  cautious  and  well-considered  reforms 
as  are  consistent  with  the  spirit  of  our  venerable 
institutions,  and  are  calculated  to  facilitate  and 
expedite  the  administration  of  justice. — You  have 
removed  the  civil  disqualifications  which  affected 
numerous  and  important  classes  of  my  people. — 
While  I  declare  on  this  solemn  occasion  my  fixed 
intention  to  maintain,  to  the  utmost  of  my  power, 
the  Protestant  reformed  religion  established  by- 
law ;  let  me,  at  the  came  time,  express  my  earnest 
hope,  that  the  animosities  which  have  prevailed 
on  account  of  religious  distinctions  may  be  for- 
gotten, and  that  the  decision  of  Parliament,  with 
respect  to  those  distinctions,  having  been  irre- 
vocably pronounced,  my  faithful  subjects  will 
unite  with  me  in  advancing  the  great  object  con- 
templated by  the  legislature,  and  in  promoting 
that  spirit  of  domestic  concord  and  peace  which 
constitutes  the  surest  basis  of  our  national 
strength  and  happiness." 

24.  Parliament  dissolved. 


MARRIAGES. 

At  St.  Marylebone,  E.  Wilson,  esq.,  to  Anne 
Clementina,  daughter  of  Lieut.  General  SirT.  S. 
Beckwitb.— At  Richmond,  Rev.  C.  E.  Kennaway, 
second  son  of  Sir  J.  Kennaway,  bart.,  to  Emma, 
fourth  daughter  of  the  Hon.  and  Rev.  G.  T.  Noel. 
— At  Portsmouth,  Capt.  O.  Gunning,  R.N.,  fourth 
•on  of  Sir  G.  Gunning,  bart.,  to  Mary  Dora, 
fourth  daughter  of  Commissioner  Sir  M.  Seymour, 
bart.  —  Lord  Clonbrook,  to  the  Hon.  Caroline 
Elizabeth  Spencer,  eldest  daughter  of  Lord 
Churchill.— Earl  of  Buchan,  to  Miss  Elizabeth 
Rae  Hervey.— H.  Heathcote,  esq.,  son  of  Rear 


Admiral  Sir  H.  Heathcote,  to  Henrietta  Maria, 
youngest  daughter  of  R.  B.  Cooper,  esq.,  M.P. 
Gloucester. — H.  Tufnell,  esq.,  to  Anne  Augusta, 
daughter  of  the  Right  Hon.  Wilmot  Horton,  M.P. 
— Sir  John  Hayford  Thorold,  to  Mrs.  Dalton.— 
Robert,  youngest  son  of  Sir  J.  E.  Harrington, 
bart.,  to  Charlotte,  youngest  daughter  of  Lady 
Pulteney.  —  Lord  Edward  Thynne,  son  of  the 
Marquess  of  Bath,  to  Elizabeth,  eldest  daughter 
of  W.  Mellish,  esq.— Rev.  S.  L.  Sainsbury,  to 
Georgiana,  eldest  daughter  of  Sir  Wathen  Wal- 
ler, bart. — R.  Burford,  esq.,  to  Miss  Shepley. 

DEATHS. 

At  Kempsey,  Lieut.  Col.  Ludovick  Grant,  81.— 
Hon.  and  Rev.  W.  Beresford,  youngest  son  of  the 
late  Archbishop  of  Tuam,  and  brother  to  Baron 
Decies. — Mr.  Madrid,  minister  from  the  republic 
of  Colombia.— Sir  James  Gardiner  Baird,  bart.— 
Captain  Sir  Thomas  Legard,  bart.,  R.N.,  67.— 
Mrs.  Anne  Penn,  84,  relict  of  the  late  T.  Penn, 
esq.,  formerly  governor,  and  one  of  the  hereditary 
proprietors  of  Pennsylvania. — At  Alveston,  Lady 
Harriet,  wife  of  Sir  Gray  Skipwith,  bart.— At 
Durham,  the  lady  of  Lieut.  General  Siddons.— At 
Longdon,  the  Right  Rev.  Dr.  H.  W.  Majendie, 
Bishop  of  Bangor,  76.— At  Bath,  Lady  Catherine 
O'Donel,  relict  of  Sir  N.  O'Donel,  and  sister  to  the 
Earl  of  Annesley.— At  Edinburgh,  72,  Barryraore, 
the  veteran  actor,  after  a  comfortable  retirement 
of  several  years. 

MARRIAGES  ABROAD. 

At  Florence,  Hon.  F.  J.  Stapleton,  son  of  Lord 
Le  Despencer,  to  Margaret,  daughter  of  Lieut. 
General  Sir  G.  Airey.— At  Dieppe,  M.  de  Meri, 
Baron  de  la  Canergue,  to  Miss  Isabella  Lucy 
Johnson. 

DEATH  ABROAD. 

At  Perugi,  Hipolyto  Bendo,  aged  124,  pre- 
serving his  faculties  to  the  last;  he  married  a 
second  wife  when  101  years  old,  and  lost  the  use 
of  his  limbs  in  1822,  in  consequence  of  a  fall. 
Pope  Leo  XII.  settled  a  pension  upon  the  veteran 
in  1825.  He  was  abstemious  in  eating,  but  drank 
regularly  six  bottles  of  wine  per  day !  —At  his 
son's,  near  Evreux,  Dr.  Pinkstan  James,  M.D.,  of 
George-street,  Hanover-square,  aged  64.  Dr. 
James  was  one  of  the  Physicians  Extraordinary  to 
his  late  Majesty,  and  also  Physician  to  the  parish 
of  St.  George,  Hanover  -  square.  His  son, 
G.  P.  R.  James,  esq.,  is  the  author  of  "  Riche- 
lieu," and  other  works  of  great  merit. 


MONTHLY  PROVINCIAL  OCCURRENCES. 


YORKSHIRE.— The  ceremony  of  laying  the 
first  stone  of  the  "Hull  and  Sulcoates  Public 
Rooms"  took  place,  June  28.  The  building  is  to 
be  in  the  Grecian  Ionic  style  of  architecture,  and 
will  consist  of  a  room  for  puhlic  meetings,  con« 
certs,  &c.  &c.,  dining  and  drawing  rooms,  with  a 
library,  and  room  also  for  lectures,  a  museum, 
and  various  other  rooms  for  committees.  The 
extent  of  the  entrance  front  is  79  feet,  of  the 
so  rthern  front  142  feet. 

The  splendid  tower  of  Whitby  Abbey  lately  fell 
tt>  the  ground.  It  was  104  feet  in  height,  and 


from  its  elevated  site,  had  long  been  a  useful  sea- 
mark, as  well  as  a  distinguished  ornament  to  the 
surrounding  neighbourhood.  Although  this  event, 
from  the  decayed  state  of  the  pillars,  has  been 
long  anticipated,  yet  it  has  excited  among  the  in- 
habitants a  deep  feeling  of  regret,  in  which  all  the 
lovers  of  bold  and  picturesque  scenery  will  par- 
ticipate. 

June  29,  the  foundation-stone  of  the  new  church 
at  Todmorton  was  laid  in  grand  ceremony.  The 
building  is  in  the  Gothic  style,  which  prevailed 
at  the  end  of  the  12th  and  beginning  of  the 


1830.]       Worcestershire,  Northamptonshire,  Oxfordshire,  <$T. 


247 


I3th  century.    It  will  accommodate  1,250  persons 
—453  will  be  free  sittings. 

WORCESTERSHIRE.— Stoke  Prior,  where 
the  rocks  of  salt  have  recently  been  discovered,  is 
situated  on  the  banks  of  the  Worcester  and  Bir- 
mingham Canal,  near  to  Bromsgrove  ;  and  it  is 
already  ascertained,  that  the  rocks  will  produce 
upwards  of  200,000  tons  of  salt  per  acre. — Glou- 
cester Journal,  July  17. 

NORTHAMPTONSHIRE.— At  these  assizes 
four  prisoners  received  sentence  of  death,  and  two 
of  transportation,  and  a  few  others  were  ordered 
to  be  imprisoned. 

BERKS.— There  were  21  prisoners  for  trial  at 
these  assizes,  10  of  whom  were  recorded  for  death. 
—At  the  last  audited  account  of  the  Reading  Sa- 
vings' Bank  the  sum  amounted  to  .£81,01 2.  19s.  2d. 

OXFORDSHIRE.— Sir  J.  A.  Park,  in  the 
course  of  his  charge  to  the  Grand  Jury  at  these 
assizes,  referred  to  the  late  prize-fights  which  bad 
disturbed  the  county,  not,  indeed,  by  their  having 
taken  place  within  its  limits,  but  by  the  training 
and  other  preparations  that  took  place  at  Chip- 
ping Norton  and  that  neighbourhood,  where  great 
neglect  had  been  shewn  on  the  part  of  the  magis- 
trates and  peace  officers.  That  for  himself  he 
entertained  the  same  opinions  respecting  the  un- 
lawfulness of  prize-fighting  which  had  been  enter- 
tained by  the  distinguished  Judge  Ashhurst,  the 
father  of  the  present  chairman  of  the  county. 
That  learned  judge  declared,  that  in  the  event  of 
death  occasioned  by  fighting,  under  such  circum- 
stances, he  should  consider  it  as  Murder,  and 
that  for  himself,  in  all  cases  of  indictment  brought 
before  him,  whether  against  the  principals,  or 
their  aiders  and  abettors,  under  whatever  name, 
of  backers,  seconds,  bottleholders,  &c.,  he  should 
take  care  that  the  law  should  be  enforced  to  the 
utmost  extent  of  its  severity  1!!— Five  prisoners 
were  recorded  for  death,  and  five  transported,  and 
a  very  few  imprisoned. 

WARWICKSHIRE.— At  a  meeting  of  the  Po- 
litical Council  of  the  town  of  Birmingham,  held 
July  13,  T.  Attwood,  esq.,  in  the  chair,  it  was 
resolved  unanimously,  "  That,  in  the  opinion  of 
this  council,  it  is  expedient  in  all  cases  wherein  a 
member  of  the  present  Parliament  presents  him- 
self to  his  constituents  for  re-election,  that  a 
strict  account  should  be  demanded  from  him  on 
the  hustings,  of  what  he  has  done  for  his  country  ? 
He  should  be  asked,  upon  bis  honour  as  a  gentle- 
man,  whether  he  does  not  believe  that  the  state- 
ment is  correct  which  has  been  made  in  Parlia- 
ment, purporting  that  154  individuals  return  a 
majority  of  the  members  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons ;*  and  if  so,  he  should  be  required  to  explain 

*  Picture  of  the  last  patriotic  House  of  Com- 
mons, by  one  of  its  own  members.—"  The  mode 
of  conducting  business  '  within  doors'  is  quite 
worthy  of  the  work  when  done.  Night  is  turned 
into  day  for  many  excellent  reasons.  First,  be- 
cause actual  sleep,  or  the  clamours  of  those  who 
want  it,  are  sure  to  silence  much  opposition. 
Second,  the  arguments  (if  listened  to)  are  sure  not 
to  be  reported  to  the  public  after  12  o'clock,  any 
more  than  if  they  were  delivered  on  a  Wednesday, 
when  few  members,  and  no  reporters,  will  work 
at  all ;  and  why  should  they,  when  the  slavery  of 
the  other  four  days  in  every  week  is  enough  to 
kill  all  but  the  strongest  constitutions,  which  are 
not  always  accompanied  by  the  strongest  heads. 
The  place,  enter  it  when  you  will,  looks  more  like 
a  coffee-house  than  a  council-house,  Every  man 
gossips  with  his.neighbour,and  often  (as  the  most 


why  he  ha*  not  supported  the  measures  which  are 
necessary  for  correcting  such  a  corrupt,  odious, 
and  destructive  state  of  the  representation  of  the 
people.  He  should  be  required  to  explain  why  he 
has  not  brought  forward  or  supported  measures 
in  Parliament  for  reducing  the  taxes,  and  ex. 
penses  of  the  Government,  and  the  rents  of  land, 
and  the  burdens  of  industry  generally,  in  the 
same  degree  as  they  have  been  fraudulently  and 
destructively  increased  by  the  surreptitious 
change  which  has  been  effected  in  the  value  of 
money.  He  should  also  be  required  to  explain 
every  vote  that  he  has  given  against  the  interest 
of  the  people  ;  and,  above  all  things,  he  should  be 
required  to  explain  why  he  has  remained  silent 
find  inactive  while  the  reward  of  industry  ha» 
been  destroyed,  while  the  cries  of  an  impoverished 
and  oppressed  people  have  resounded  on  every 
side,  and  calamities  the  most  afflicting,  and  dan- 
gers the  most  appalling,  have  been  accumulating 
upon  the  nation,  and  threatening  the  foundations 
of  society." 

HANTS.— At  the  Midsummer  sessions,  the 
reports  of  the  visiting  justices  of  the  several 
county  prisons  were  read,  and  proved  highly  satis.- 
factory  in  every  respect,  with  only  one  exception, 
as  to  the  County  Bridewell,  which  appears  to  have 
been  for  sometime  in  a  very  unhealthy  state.  In 
consequence  of  some  alteration  in  the  quality  of 
the  prisoners'  diet,  or  from  some  other  latent 
cause  (for  the  fact  could  not  be  positively  ac- 
counted for),  the  Scurvy  had  made  its  appearance 
in  the  prison  to  a  dangerous  extent.  No  death 
ensued  in  any  instance,  within  the  walls  ;  but  one 
individual  survived  his  discharge  but  one  day,  and 
two  others  were  sent  away  in  a  distressing  con- 
dition. Immediate  attention  was  paid  to  the 
malady,  and  proper  remedies  and  regimen  resort- 
ed to,  with  the  most  successful  result.  The  prison 
hospital  contains  at  present  but  three  inmates, 
and  every  precaution  has  been  taken  to  prevent  a 
return  of  the  disease.  The  calamity  has  excited 
the  more  attention, being  the  first  instance  of  such 
a  visitation  in  this  prison  or  county  for  upwards 
of  30  years.  As  a  proof  of  the  generally  healthy 
state  of  the  prison,  we  have  authority  to  say,  that 
only  11  deaths  have  occurred  there  during  the  last 
five  years  and  a  quarter,  out  of  nearly  3,000  in- 
dividuals who  have  been  confined  there  during 
that  period,  and  of  those  11,  several  died  of  dis- 
eases with  which  they  were  afflicted  when  sent 
there.  The  highest  testimonials  were  adduced  as 
to  the  healthy  state  of  the  prison,  and  the  good 
conduct  of  its  superintendants. 

Upon  hearing  the  treasurer's  report  as  to  the 
finances,  a  county  rate  was  ordered  of  one  penny 
in  the  pound. 

In  accordance  with  the  feelings  of  the  public, 
the  Admiralty  have  abandoned  the  intention  of 

eloquent  man  in  the  house  recently  complained) 
louder  than  the  person  addressing  it,  while  those 
whose  duty  it  is  to  preserve  order,  neither  enforce 
it  by  precept  or  example,  being  probably  aware 
how  much  more  their  personal  convenience  and 
speedy  emancipation  is  consulted  by  the.  habitual 
breach  of  decorum,  than  by  the  rigid  observance 
of  it.  Besides,  how  could  yon  induce  your  '  men 
of  straw,'  and  '  your  things  of  silk,'  to  remain 
and  vote,  if  you  deny  them  the  right  common  to 
all  the  rest  of  the  brute  creation,  of  expressing 
their  impatience  under  restraint?  In  brief,  it  is 
a  place  where  the  little  good  that  can  be  effected 
is  not  adequate  to  the  toil ;  where  the  triumphs  of 
truth  and  justice  bear  no  proportion  to  their  dis- 
comfiture, and  where  a  minister,  if  unhappily  so 
disposed,  might  be  as  arbitrary  as  he  pleased  ; 
for  whatever  the  Government  may  be,  the  House 
is  ten  times  worse  1!!"— E.  D.  DAVENPORT. 


248  Provincial  Occurrences  :  Devonshire  and  Ireland.  [AuG. 

outrage  was  the  signal  for  a  more  general  riot ; 
the  numbers  increased  to  an  alarming  extent,  and 
they  proceeded  to  rob  every  provision  store  they 
came  to  ;  there  is  scarcely  one  in  the  whole  city 
that  has  not  been  plundered.  On  the  first  break- 
ing out  of  the  riot,  the  shops  were  shut,  but  this 
proved  no  protection  ;  they  were  broken  open, 
and  any  thing  like  the  destruction  of  property 
cannot  be  conceived— bread,  flour,  pork,  and 
bacon  were  seen  carrying  off  in  all  directions. 
Up  to  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  this  destruc- 
tion was  proceeding  without  being  checked. 
Seven  people,  however,  had  been  shot  by  indi- 
viduals in  protecting  their  property.  At  two 
o'clock,  the  provision  stores  being  all  ransacked, 
the  mob  commenced  breaking  into  the  spirit  shops, 
and  drinking  to  excess.  J  ust  as  our  correspondent 
closed  his  letter,  stones  had  been  thrown  at  the 
soldiers  ordered  out  by  the  authorities,  and  they 
had  consequently  commenced  firing. 

June  21.  The  price  of  potatoes  has  risen  in 
Ennis  market  to  sixpence  for  the  single  stone. 
This  is  beyond  the  reach  of  many,  and  conse- 
quently the  distress  increases  hourly.  The  state 
of  the  market  on  Saturday  was  a  scene  of  the 
greatest  confusion,  and  those  who  could  not  pur- 
chase a  basket  or  load  were  left  without  a  potatoe 
for  the  support  of  their  families.*  In  the  country 
parts  the  potatoes  are  at  famine  price  ;  many 
persons  depending  for  support  upon  one  meal  in 
the  day.  The  distress  of  the  people  in  the  neigh- 
bournood  of  Ennistimon  is  extreme,  and  several 
gentlemen  have  made  exertions  to  procure  food 
for  the  people. 

Potatoes  have  been  very  scarce  in  Galway  for 
the  last  week.  A  deputation  of  the  tradesmen  of 
Galway  waited  on  the  magistrates  on  Wednesday, 
and  gave  a  gloomy  picture  of  the  state  of  trade  in 
that  town.  The  tale  they  told  was  truly  melan- 
choly. 

All  the  preceding  information  is  extracted  from 
the  Dublin  papers,  June  26. 


cutting  down  the  Victory  (so  endeared  to  us  by 
many  associations)  to  a  74.  Since  it  was  under- 
stood this  step  was  contemplated,  the  public  have 
been  loud  in  their  lamentations  that  such  a  na- 
tional object  of  interest  should  not  be  suffered  to 
remain  unaltered.  She  is  to  be  fitted  to  receive 
the  pendant  of  the  Captain  of  the  Ordinary  (in 
lieu  of  the  Prince);  thus  rendering  the  Victory  an 
object  of  double  interest ;  for  whilst  we  shall  look 
upon  her  with  a  mixed  feeling  of  pride  and 
melancholy,  as  the  ship  which  bore  the  flag  of  the 
immortal  Nelson  at  the  glorious  battle  of  Trafal- 
gar, and  in  which  he  fell,  we  shall  regard  her  as  a 
nursery  for  our  seamen,  who  will  be  stimulated  to 
emulation  by  the  remembrance  that  the  ship  in 
which  they  were  early  instructed  in  their  duties, 
owed  its  celebrity  to  the  bright  renown  of  the  de- 
parted hero. — Portsmouth  Paper.  . 

DEVONSHIRE.— On  the  proclamation  of  His 
Gracious  Majesty  William  IV.,  on  Tuesday  last  at 
Plymouth,  the  Kent  hoisted  (by  order)  the  Com- 
mander-in-chief's flag,  and  fired  41  guns,  a  short 
time  after  noon.  When  the  seamen's  dinner  was 
ended,  a  deputation  of  the  petty  officers  came  on 
deck  from  the  seamen,  to  solicit  Captain  Devon- 
shire to  permit  them  to  drink  the  health  of  King 
William  IV.  in  extra  grogs  on  the  quarter-deck, 
as  he  was  the  first  blue-jacket  King  that  ever 
reigned  in  England,  which  they  did  with  enthu- 
siastic cheers.— Plymouth  Pilfer. 

At  the  county  sessions  the  calender  contained  a 
list  of  60  offenders  committed  during  the  short 
space  of  three  months,  a  fourth  part  of  whom 
were  under  the  age  of  21  !* 

IRELAND.— We  have  received  an  account 
from  Limerick,  written  yesterday  at  three  o'clock, 
which  gives  a  frightful  relation  of  the  state  of 
things  there.  It  appears  that  at  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  a  large  mob  of  persons  collected  and 
seized  some  provisions  from  an  open  shop  ;  this 

*  The  chairman  (Mr.  Lyon)  said,  he  mentioned 
this  melancholy  fact,  for  the  purpose  of  expressing 
his  regret  that  there  did  not  exist  in  this  country 
a  more  prompt  and  summary  mode  of  dealing  with 
juvenile  delinquents,  which  the  present  state  of 
mankind  seemed  imperatively  to  call  for.  He  felt 
that  he  should  be  wanting  in  his  duty  as  a  magis- 
trate, and  particularly  in  the  situation  he  had  been 
chosen  to  fill  at  that  time  in  that  court,  were  he 
not  to  mention  it,  and  to  say  farther,  that  no 
method  appeared  more  likely  to  effect  the  intended 
end  than  the  almost  instant  assembling  of  juries 
before  some  competent  person  or  persons,  and  on 
or  near  the  spot  where  the  offence  had  been  com- 
mitted, so  that  punishment  should  not  only  closely 
follow  on  the  heels  of  the  offence,  but,  that  the 
law  might  be  carried  into  effect  before  their  fel- 
lows, and  in  the  view  of  others  similarly  ill  dis- 
posed, rather  than  as  now  by  transmittal  to  the 
county  prisons,  to  cause  an  interval  of  months  to 
elapse,  in  which  not  only  the  example  was  lost 
sight  of  at  home,  but  the  character  of  the  offender 
farther  deteriorated,  by  mixture  with,  and  it  was 
to  be  feared  greater  contamination  from  the  ex- 
ample and  instruction  of,  older  offenders;  for,  he 
was  compelled  to  admit,  that  whenever  these  ac- 
cumulations of  vice  came  in  contact,  the  utmost 
vigilance  could  not  deter  the  old  practitioner 
from  imparting  to  the  young  a  knowledge  of  the 
methods  in  use  among  themselVes  when  at  large 
for  preying  on  mankind,  and  thus  the  youthful 
offender,  who  had  probably  been  previously  re- 
moved but  a  single  step  from  the  paths  of  virtue 
and  of  honesty,  emerged,  from  the  confinement 
that  was  intended  to  reclaim  him,  with  a  character 
completely  vitiated!!! 


*  At  a  meeting  of  the  inhabitants  of  Kelmore 
Erris,  held  this  day,  at  Binghamstown,  for  the 
purpose  of  devising  means  to  alleviate  the  present 
unexampled  sufferings  of  the  poor,  the  following 
resolutions  were  carried  unanimously  : — That  the 
population  of  the  Barony  of  Erris  exceeds  five 
thousand  families ;  of  which  one-half  at  least  are 
at  this  moment  in  a  state  of  starvation,  owing  to 
extreme  poverty,  want  of  employment,  and  the 
present  high  rate  as  well  as  scarcity  of  provisions. 
That  this  extensive  district  contains  no  internal 
resource  whence  to  derive  any  adequate  relief 
upon  this  most  trying  and  melancholy  occasion. 
That  for  the  last  fortnight  the  greater  part  of  the 
labouring  classes  had  little  subsistence  besides 
green  herbage  from  the  fields,  with  weeds  and 
shell-fish  from  the  shores.  That  in  the  event  of 
our  petition  to  Government  not  being  attended  to, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Lyons  be  respectfully  solicited  to 
proceed  without  delay  to  England,  and  endeavour 
to  call  attention  there  to  the  heart-rending  con- 
dition of  the  peasantry  of  Erris.  Tliat,  in  the 
meantime,  a  subscription  be  opened,  and  an  active 
committee  appointed  to  apportion  such  relief  as 
may  be  obtained  from  time  to  time  with  economy 
and  strict  impartiality  amongst  the  poor,  accord- 
ing to  their  respective  families  and  necessities. 
That  James  M  Donogh,  esq.,  be  requested  to  act 
as  secretary  and  treasurer  to  the  committee,  and 
that  he  communicate  these  resolutions  with  as 
little  delay  as  pessible  to  all  persons  who  are 
likely  to  sympathize  with,  and  contribute  to,  the 
relief  of  the  suffering  population  of  Erris.  Wm. 
Everard,  Chairman  ;  J.  Nugent,  R.N.,  Secretary. 
— Binshamstown,  3d  July,  1830. 


THE 

MONTHLY    MAGAZINE 

OF 

POLITICS,  LITERATURE,  AND  THE  BELLES  LETTRES. 
VOL.  X.]  SEPTEMBER,  1830.  [No.  57. 


THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  OF  JULY,  1830. 

are  rejoiced  at  the  expulsion  of  the  Bourbons.  We  are  no 
worshippers  of  the  mob,  no  lovers  of  the  impudent  and  vulgar  brawlers, 
who  run  from  one  diseased  corner  of  the  land  to  another,  and  in  each 
and  all  increase  and  embitter  the  disease.  Our  contempt  is  not  lessened, 
but  augmented,  when  those  brawlers  are  men  above  the  condition  of 
earning  their  contemptible  pittance  by  the  arts  of  this  mendicant 
popularity.  But  we  are  rejoiced  that  justice  has  been  done;  that  a 
dynasty  has  fallen,  which  neither  adversity,  the  school  of  princes, 
could  school;  nor  prosperity,  the  fertilizer  of  the  human  heart,  could 
warm  to  honour  or  generosity;  to  which  personal  gratitude  could  not 
teach  forbearance,  nor  royal  faith  teach  the  keeping  of  their  compact 
with  the  nation.  We  rejoice  that  a  King,  who  dipped  his  hands  in  the 
blood  of  his  subjects,  should  stand  forth  as  a  warning  to  mankind !  and 
we  trust  that  Europe  may  be  saved  from  the  violence  of  many  a  Military 
Tyrant  by  the  cheap  sacrifice  of  a  single  Fool! 

Excepting  our  own  consummate  revolution  of  1688,  (a  revolution 
consecrated  to  the  British  heart,  however  now  insulted  and  profaned !) 
there  never  has  been  a  great  popular  movement,  so  just,  so  manfully 
carried  on,  so  comprehensively  executed,  and  brought  to  a  close  with 
so  much  dignity  and  moderation.  The  king  struck  the  first  blow  in  the 
presence  of  France  :  his  decrees  were  a  haughty  and  intolerable  demand 
of  the  liberty  of  Thought,  the  liberty  of  Person,  and  the  liberty  of 
Purse.  No  Sovereign  of  Europe,  even  in  all  the  frenzy  of  military- 
pride,  ever  made  so  defying  and  contemptuous  an  attack  on  his  people. 
In  the  worst  act  of  tyranny  there  had  always  been  a  little  reserve ; 
some  remaining  deference  for  the  common  feelings  of  man,  if  not  for 
the  semblance  of  character.  But  Charles  X.  spoke  out  at  once,  "  You 
shall  have  no  charter.  You  shall  have  no  parliament,  but  a  packed  one ! 
You  shall  have  no  liberty  of  the  press,  but  to  fawn  upon  the  king, 
and  delude  the  people." 

Yet,  in  all  the  annals  of  infatuation,  never  was   infatuation   like   his. 
While  the  utterer  of  the  words  thought  he  had  but  to  stamp  on  the 

M.M.  New  Series.— Voi,.  X.  No.  57.  21 


250  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  [SEPT. 

ground  and  shake  France,  the  ground  teemed  with  materials  of  ruin. 
His  own  hand  flung  the  match  into  the  mine,  and  the  explosion  extin- 
guished and  swept  away  him  and  his  race  for  ever. 

Whether  the  revolution  will  pause  on  the  height  which  it  has  gained ; 
or  whether  it  will  struggle  to  ascend  into  some  higher  region  of  barren 
metaphysical  government,  and  take  for  its  guides  the  republican  and 
atheistic  adventurers,  who  so  speedily,  in  1797*  flung  France  down  into 
the  hands  of  the  fiercest  despotism  of  the  modern  world,  are  questions 
which  are  to  be  resolved  only  by  the  result.  But  one  conclusion  is 
irresistible ;  that  if  Charles  Xth's  decrees  had  been  carried  into  execution, 
not  only  Paris,  but  all  France,  must  have  rapidly  become  a  theatre  of  chains 
and  blood;  that  the  popular  spirit  would  have  been  persecuted,  until 
every  village  had  its  Bastile,  its  scaffold,  and  its  massacre ;  that  if  the 
people  were  successful,  the  desperate  memories  of  such  a  time  would 
have  inflamed  them  into  ungovernable  rage,  and  sent  them  like  the  mad 
dog,  furious,  and  rushing  with  their  venom  through  all  Europe  ;  while  if 
the  throne,  in  some  hidden  wrath  of  heaven  against  earth,  triumphed, 
the  liberty  of  nations  might  count  its  existence  by  hours.  The 
example  of  success  in  France  would  stimulate  the  lurking  evil  in  the 
breast  of  all  the  conspirators  against  freedom ;  with  the  great  idol  erected 
in  the  heart  of  France,  a  hundred  idols  would  be  affiliated,  until  the 
Moloch  of  military  tyranny  reigned,  and  its  rites  were  celebrated  by 
flinging  the  miserable  multitude  into  the  flames  of  all  its  altars. 

It  is  now  beyond  all  denial,  and  it  is  scarcely  attempted  to  be  denied, 
that  the  French  king's  intention  to  overthrow  the  constitution  was 
known  to  powerful  individuals  on  the  continent  long  before  the  expe- 
riment was  made.  Whether  it  were  urged;  or  discountenanced,  only  for 
a  more  fitting  opportunity ;  whether,  with  that  diplomatic  art,  which 
makes  the  name  of  diplomacy  scandalous,  the  advice  was  withheld, 
though  the  hint  was  given,  are  matters  whose  revelation  cannot  be 
remote,  and  when  it  comes,  will  mark  many  a  proud  head  for  scorn.  But 
the  great  question  which  Englishmen  must  ask  is,  whether  the  British  ca- 
binet were  aware  of  the  plot  ?  and  being  aware,  willingly  suffered  it  to 
make  progress  to  its  fearful  catastrophe  ?  If  his  Grace  of  Wellington  and 
his  clerks  were  in  the  dark  upon  such  a  subject,  what  are  we  to  think 
of  their  sagacity  ?  What  is  the  use  of  the  £50,000  a  year  secret  service 
money?  What  is  the  use  of  my  Lord  Stuart's  £12,000  a  year,  besides 
"  outfit,  house,  allowances,"  and  the  other  unaccountable  items  that  make 
up  the  price  of  that  polite  and  virtuous  noble  Lord's  services  ?  What  is 
the  value  of  our  having  a  troop  of  diplomatic  coxcombs  sauntering 
through  the  purlieus  of  the  Palais- Royal,  and  making  themselves  the 
scorn  of  one  half  of  the  population,  and  the  dupes  of  the  other  ? 

But  if  the  British  Cabinet  did  know  it,  what  are  we  to  think  of  them? 
What  may  be  the  essential  texture  of  a  cabinet  minister's  brains,  such  as 
they  are  in  the  year  1830,  we  have  no  desire  to  examine.  But  if  we  took 
the  first  dozen  men  we  met  in  the  street,  and  asked  them  what  must  be 
the  consequence  of  an  attempt  of  the  French  King  to  extinguish  the 
charter  ?  The  answer  would  inevitably  be  "  Blood  !  —  the  people  will 
go  to  war  with  the  government  soon  or  late.  If  they  attack  the  govern- 
ment at  once,  and  by  main  force,  or  if  they  oppose  it  in  detail  and  at  in- 
tervals, in  all  cases  there  will  be  blood.  For  the  people  will  resist,  and 
vengeance  will  be  let  loose  on  both  sides,  until  either  tyranny  triumphs, 
and  the  example  of  the  French  is  a  stronghold  for  tyranny  all  over 


1830.]  'The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  251 

Europe,  or  the  people  overturn  the  royal  power,  and  France  is  a  repub- 
lic, at  the  head  of  a  continent  of  republics  !" 

This  would,  to  demonstration,  have  been  the  working  of  a  civil  war 
sustained  with  any  equality  of  vigour  on  both  sides  ;  but  the  people  of 
Paris  settled  the  grand  question  at  a  blow,  found  the  conquest  too  easy  to 
excite  them  into  serious  rage,  and  saw  the  Bourbon  pageant  too  easily 
stripped  of  its  plumage,  to  feel  much  alarm  at  once  again  making  the 
experiment  of  a  king. 

But  this  was  a  chance  which  lay  totally  beyond  conjecture.  The 
course  of  nature  was  for  a  long  struggle,  or  the  sudden  extinction  of 
right  by  force;  and  this  a  British  cabinet,  that  deserved  the  name,  would 
have  foreseen  and  would  have  provided  for. 

We  are  no  friends  to  petulant  interference  with  Foreign  Courts,  but 
when  the  follies  of  that  court  obviously  threaten  to  draw  down  ruin  on 
every  other,  such  follies  become  crimes  against  Europe,  and  it  is  the 
simplest  assertion  of  the  right  of  self-defence  to  interfere.  If  our  neigh- 
bour piles  a  magazine  of  gunpowder  in  his  house,  and  walks  about, 
playing  with  a  firebrand,  we  have  the  clearest  right  in  the  world  to  warn 
the  fool  that  he  endangers  us  as  well  as  himself,  and  take  the  firebrand 
out  of  his  hand.  If  the  English  Ministry,  knowing  that  this  fantastic  old 
king  was  preparing  a  measure  which  must  shake  Europe  to  its  centre, 
and  which  at  this  hour  affrights  every  continental  king  with  the  fear  of  over- 
throw, and  stimulates  every  continental  people  to  the  frenzy  of  insurrec- 
tion, yet  took  no  step,  nothing  remedial,  nothing  in  the  way  of  serious 
remonstrance — for  they  must  not  escape  under  cover  of  surmises  and 
recommendations — then  we  shall  know  what  to  think  of  the  cabinet ! 
A  single  decided  notification  of  the  alarm  of  England  at  the  measure, 
would  have  startled  the  French  government  into  a  sense  of  its  hazard. 
There  would  have  been  no  necessity  for  going  to  war  on  the  subject ;  not 
a  single  sloop,  nor  a  single  corporal's  guard  the  more,  need  have  been 
added  to  our  establishment.  The  few  words,  "  the  British  Ambassador 
will  be  withdrawn !"  would  have  strangled  the  design  in  its  birth,  would 
have  saved  the  hideous  convulsions  of  Paris,  and  would  have  rescued 
Europe  and  England  from  the  innumerable  hazards  which  spring,  full 
armed,  out  of  the  declared  triumph  of  the  multitude. 

True;  if  the  English  Cabinet  knew  nothing  on  the  subject,  we  must  of 
course  exonerate  them  from  the  crime  of  looking  with  composure  on  the 
most  guilty  attempt  of  despotism  within  European  history,  and  the  pre- 
parations for  a  convulsion  of  which  no  man  can  now  predict  the  limits, 
or  circumscribe  the  evil. 

But,  if  they  were  ignorant  on  the  point,  it  is  plain  that  they  do  not 
read  the  newspapers.  In  a  letter  from  Paris,  in  the  John  Butt,  dated  so 
far  back  as  the  20th  of  January,  we  find  this  paragraph  : — 

"  The  Ministry,  like  the  circle  of  the  compass,  is  true  to  the  crown, 
the  charter,  and  the  people.  Clamour  does  not  affect,  nor  opposition  inti- 
midate them.  They  owe  a  duty  to  France,  and  they  will  fulfil  it.  Those 
who  represent  them  as  enemies  to  the  charter,  neither  know  their  princi- 
ples nor  desires.  Those  who  represent  them  as  enemies  to  the  freedom  of 
the  Press,  are  violent  and  intemperate  demagogues.  The  party  opposed 
to  them  threaten  an  insolent  address  to  the  king,  requiring  their  dis- 
missal— and  the  refusal  of  the  budget  in  case  their  wishes  should  not  be 
respected.  As  to  the  address — if  it  be  insolent,  the  king  will  dissolve  the 
chambers  ; — and  as  to  the  refusal  of  the  budget,  if  that  step  should  be 

2  I  2 


252  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  [SEPT. 

taken,  Prance  would  execrate  her  representatives,  and  return  to  a  new 
chamber  a  royalist  majority.'' 

Here,  setting  aside  the  verbiage,  which  seems  borrowed  from  the 
Moniteur,  we  have  the  whole  project  distinctly  laid  down.  There  is, 
the  admission  that  the  government  is  charged  first,  with  hostility  to  the 
charter,  and  next,  to  the  freedom  of  the  press  i  The  persons  who  charge 
it  with  those  offences  are  plainly  pronounced  violent  and  intemperate 
demagogues.  Events,  however,  have  tolerably  wiped  away  that  imputation. 

But  then  comes  the  Cabinet  declaration,  that  if  the  deputies  present 
an  insolent  address,  requesting  the  dismissal  of  ministers,  those  deputies 
will  be  instantly  cashiered,  the  parliament  being  dissolved.  Or,  if  they 
take  another  way,  and  without  presenting  the  insolent  address,  refuse  to 
accede  to  the  budget,  or  refuse  to  raise  taxes  for  the  purpose  of  enslav- 
ing the  people,  then  a  royalist  majority  will  be  contrived ;  which,  as  it 
could  not  be  provided  for  by  the  old  style  of  election,  must  be  provided 
for  by  a  new,  namely,  a  subversion  of  the  form  prescribed  by  the  charter. 
Thus,  let  what  would  come,  the  charter  was  to  be  crushed.  Whether  the 
Ministers  of  England  had  ever  read  this  paper,  or  ever  read  any  thing  but 
the  list  of  boroughs  and  sure  votes,  must  remain  in  their  own  bosoms, 
But  here  was  the  knowledge  perfectly  at  their  service ;  and  the  fact  is, 
that  every  journal  in  France  and  England  talked  of  the  king's  intention 
to  overturn  the  French  parliament,  if  he  could  not  make  it  submissive. 
It  is,  too,  a  curious  instance  of  the  fierce  activity  that  folly  can  some- 
times exhibit,  to  see  the  French  king  disdaining  to  wait  for  even  what 
he  had  avowed  as  the  necessary  provocation.  The  deputies  did  not  pre- 
sent the  insolent  address,  nor  stop  the  budget ;  for  they  never  met.  The 
hand  of  power  was  impatient  to  grasp  the  charter,  and  it  asked  no  other 
excuse  than  its  having  15,000  troops  within  beat  of  drum.  The  Press 
was  the  only  ground  which  it  could  discover,  to  make  out  even  the 
semblance  of  a  case ;  and  on  the  strength  of  its  having  discovered  that 
the  French  writers  were  troublesome,  and  the  liberty  of  thought  incon- 
venient to  the  ministerial  process  of  managing  kingdoms,  war  was 
declared  against  the  nation,  thousands  of  lives  were  sacrificed,  all  France 
was  put  in  a  ferment  of  revolution,  and  all  Europe  is,  at  this  moment, 
dreading  in  what  quarter  the  burst  of  popular  vengeance  shall  first  rise 
to  throw  the  world  into  confusion. 

The  details  of  the  revolution  will  yet  form  one  of  the  most  striking 
features  of  history. — On  Saturday,  July  24,  a  French  newspaper  first 
slightly  announced,  that  there  was  an  immediate  intention  to  issue  Cordon- 
nances  "  hostile  to  the  charter.  But,  as  the  information  was  restricted 
to  this  paper,  it  was  disregarded.  On  Sunday  the  25th,  the  king  held 
a  court,  at  which  he  received  the  ambassadors  as  usual.  At  this  court 
the  royal  signature  was  given,  and  the  ordonnances  were  handed  over  to 
the  Moniteur. 

We  have  already  asked  whether  the  British  Cabinet  did  or  did  not 
know  the  parricidal  designs  of  the  French  one  ?  But  we  have  super- 
abundant proof  that  the  Polignacs  had  long  meditated  the  crime.  It  is 
many  months  since  Cottu,  a  lawyer,  and  one  of  those  beings  whose  pen 
is  ready  to  advocate  any  thing,  wrote  a  pamphlet  De  la  Necessite  d'une 
Dictature ;  the  object  of  which  was  to  abolish  the  law  of  elections  and 
the  liberty  of  the  press,  the  whole  spirit  of  the  charter  ;  concluding  with 
the  advice,  that  the  crown  should,  without  delay,  establish  a  Dictator- 
ship !  an  absolute  despotism ! 


1830.]  The  French  Revolution  of  July ,  1830.  253 

But  the  experiment  would  have  been  only  half  made,  if  it  had  been 
confined  to  France  and  the  lawyer.  The  Quarterly  Review  of  May  last 
was  honoured  with  an  article  on  the  subject,  which  has  been  subse- 
quently said  to  have  been  forced  upon  the  acknowledged  editor. 
The  palpable  object  of  this  article  was  to  try  how  far  an  improvement 
"  from  the  French"  would  be  relished  here.  The  writer  observes,  that 
"  France  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  forming  a  constitutional  government — 
that  the  French  were  incapable  of  a  constitutional  government — that 
they  had  the  great  public  misfortune  of  not  being  able  to  respect  and 
cherish  ancient  prejudices  and  customs,  merely  because  they  rvere  venera- 
ble I — and  that,  in  the  struggle,  it  would  be  altogether  the  better  that  the 
king  should  gain  the  day  I" 

So  much  for  the  British  feeling  of  this  slave !  So  much  for  eagerness 
of  money  acting  on  the  heart  of  a  place-hunting  menial !  But  we  have  a 
flourishing  recapitulation  still. 

"  We  therefore  hope  and  trust,"  says  this  high-spirited  writer,  "  that 
the  king  and  his  present  ministers  may  succeed,  if  such  be  their  object, 
in  establishing  a  censorship  on  the  press ;  and  likewise  in  acquiring  so 
decided  a  preponderance  in  the  chamber  of  deputies,  that  its  existence, 
as  an  independent  body,  capable  of  bearding  the  monarchy,  as  it  has 
recently  done,  shall  be  no  longer  recognized.  This,  we  own,  will  be  a 
virtual  abolition  of  the  charter,  but  the  question  is  obviously  reduced  to 
this — shall  the  monarchy,  which  is  suitable  to  the  country,  be  over- 
thrown ?  or  shall  the  charter,  which,  in  every  possible  view,  is  unsuit- 
able to  it,  be  abrogated  ?" 

So  much  for  the  opinion  of  a  public  journal  two  months  ago.  But, 
of  course,  the  government  were  innocent  of  all  knowledge  on  the 
subject. 

The  whole  of  this  matchless  argument  is,  that  the  French,  having  no 
conception  of  what  is  good  for  them,  Charles  the  Tenth  was  to  manage  the 
matters  in  his  own  style ;  that  the  French,  having  let  Charles  the  Tenth 
ascend  the  throne  in  virtue  of  a  charter,  to  which  he  swore  ;  they  were  to 
look  on  with  complacency  while  he  broke  his  oath  and  abolished  the 
compact  under  which  he  was  a  monarch  ;  and,  finally,  that  the  liberty  of 
the  press  being  one  of  the  primary  stipulations  of  that  compact,  and  a 
stipulation  without  which  no  liberty  of  any  kind  can  be  secure,  it  was 
to  be  hoped  and  trusted  that  Charles  the  Tenth  would  succeed  in  destroy- 
ing the  liberty  of  the  press. 

Now,  what  is  all  this  advice,  but  to  stimulate  the  breaking  of  faith, 
the  violation  of  the  most  solemn  oaths,  and  the  extinction  of  all  hope  of 
rational  freedom  in  France  ?  Yet,  it  is  more,  it  is  the  suggestion  of 
bloody  execution  on  the  people  of  France ;  for  from  the  irritated  feeling 
which  the  people  from  one  end  of  that  immense  and  crowded  country  to 
the  other  exhibited  ever  since  the  commencement  of  the  Polignac  admi- 
nistration, no  man  with  a  grain  of  common  sense  could  doubt  that  the 
nation  would  resist ;  and  that  if  despotism  was  "  to  gain  the  day,"  it 
must  be  on  the  field  of  battle,  or  on  the  scaffold. 

But  what  were  the  circumstances  under  which  the  French  constitution 
was  formed  ?  In  1814,  on  the  first  entrance  of  the  Allies  into  Paris, 
proclamations  of  the  Emperor  Alexander,  and  of  Prince  Schwartzen- 
burg,  as  commander-in-chief,  were  issued,  March  31,  calling  on  the 
French  to  form  a  Provisional  Government  and  a  Constitution.  The 


254  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  [SEPT. 

Conservative  Senate  assembled,  April  6,  and  drew  up  the  Charter,  in 
which  the  chief  articles  were — 

"  1.  The  French  Constitution  is  monarchical  and  hereditary,  from 
male  to  male,  in  the  order  of  primogeniture.  The  French  people  call 
freely  to  the  throne  Louis  Stanislaus  Xavier  de  France,  brother  of  the 
last  king,  and  after  him  the  other  members  of  the  house  of  Bourbon  in 
the  ancient  order." 

"  5.  The  king,  the  senate,  and  the  legislative  body  concur  in  the 
making  of  laws." 

"  9.  Each  department  sends  a  deputy,  and  they  shall  be  chosen  by 
the  electoral  bodies,  which  shall  be  preserved,  with  the  exception  of  the 
changes  which  may  be  made  by  a  law  in  their  organization/' 

(<  23.  The  Liberty  of  the  Press  is  entire,  with  the  exception  of  the 
legal  repression  of  offences  which  may  result  from  the  abuse  of  that 
liberty." 

"  Louis  Stanislaus  Xavier  shall  be  proclaimed  king  of  the  French,  as 
soon  as  he  shall  have  signed  and  sworn  by  an  act  stating,  '  I  accept  the 
constitution — /  swear  to  observe  it  and  cause  it  to  be  observed !'  " 

The  Count  d'Artois,  too,  was  especially  a  party  to  this  compact,  for, 
on  the  dissolution  of  the  Provisional  Government,  April  14,  and  his 
taking  the  government  on  himself  until  the  arrival  of  his  brother,  the 
decree  of  the  senate  was  presented  to  him  as  a  preliminary ;  when  he 
declared,  that,  "  though  he  himself  had  taken  cognizance  of  the  consti- 
tution, he  had  not  received  power  from  his  brother  to  accept  it ;  though 
as  he  knew  his  sentiments,  he  could  assure  them  that  the  king  would 
accept  the  bases  !"  Those  bases  he  then  declared  to  be, — the  princi- 
ples of  a  representative  government  divided  into  two  branches,  liberty 
of  the  press,  and  liberty  of  worship. 

Louis  XVIII.  accepted  those  declarations  in  a  more  detailed  and 
formal  manner,  May  2,  before  he  was  received  in  Paris  as  Monarch, 
admitting  that  he  was  recalled  "  by  the  love  of  his  people."  It  is  not 
to  be  forgotten  that  the  right  of  the  French  people  to  form  a  free  con- 
stitution was  solemnly  declared  by  the  Allied  Sovereigns,  and  that  they 
were  promised  "  the  guaranty  of  the  Sovereigns  to  the  Constitution 
which  they  formed;"  that,  in  fact,  French  liberty  was  a  compact  not 
merely  of  the  king  with  the  people,  but  of  all  Europe  with  the  people, 
and  Charles  X.  is  not  merely  a  breaker  of  faith  with  the  French,  but 
an  assailant  of  the  whole  body  of  the  Allied  Monarchs,  the  protectors 
of  the  Constitution.  But  he  has  fallen ;  and  so  fall  all  who  would 
follow  his  example ! 

In  the  Moniteur  of  Monday,  July  26,  the  memorable  "  Ordonnances" 
appeared;  and  they  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  on  the  people.  They  were  in 
the  shape  of  three  decrees.  By  the  first,  the  liberty  of  the  press  was 
declared  at  an  end  ;  and  no  journals  were  to  be  published  except  those 
directly  under  the  controul  of  government.  By  the  second,  the  Cham- 
ber of  Deputies  was  dissolved  (even  before  it  had  met).  And  by  the 
third,  the  whole  election  law  was  changed.  To  the  maintenance  of  all 
which  privileges  Charles  X.  had  pledged  himself  as  prince,  and  sworn 
as  king. 

This  "  ordonnance"  was  not  for  reform,  but  for  extinction ;  not  to 
rectify  the  disorders  of  the  Charter,  but  to  extinguish  it ;  not  to  modify 
a  constitution,  but  to  make  a  tyranny.  It  was  power  trusting  to  the 
sword  for  its  success ;  a  tyrant  proclaiming  war  against  a  people  ! 


1830.]  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  255 

The  first  announcement  of  the  decrees  produced  universal  consterna- 
tion. No  man  in  Paris  had  conceived  that  all  the  folly  of  the  Bourbons, 
or  all  the  insolence  of  a  mad  ministry,  could  have  been  worked  up  to 
such  a  pitch  of  mingled  imbecility  and  insanity.  The  public  life  of  the 
capital  was  instantly  at  a  stop.  Business  of  all  kinds  was  paralyzed. 
Men  ran  in  terror,  at  the  impending  loss  of  their  property,  to  sell  out  of 
the  funds  :  they  found  the  doors  of  the  offices  closed.  Merchants  and 
manufacturers  sent  for  their  money  to  the  banks.  There  was  not  a 
bank  open  in  all  Paris — every  shop  was  shut.  The  streets  were  soon 
crowded  by  the  multitude  of  discharged  workmen;  printers,  whose 
presses  were  stopped ;  the  servants  and  attendants  of  the  shops,  and  all 
in  the  most  extraordinary  agitation.  The  city  wore  a  funereal  look,  and 
the  multitude  strayed  through  the  streets  from  the  morning  till  the 
evening,  with  a  look  of  the  deepest  depression.  The  storm  was  evi- 
dently at  hand.  It  was  soon  known  that  large  bodies  of  troops,  the  Swiss, 
the  gardes  du  corps,  and  artillery,  with  some  regiments  of  the  line,  had 
been  ordered  under  arms,  and  that  15,000  men  were  ready  to  put  down 
the  people. 

On  Tuesday  the  catastrophe  ripened  rapidly.  The  chief  journals 
refused  to  publish :  three  or  four  of  the  minor  ones  published  without 
waiting  for  the  king's  licence ;  their  houses  were  entered,  and  their 
presses  destroyed.  In  one  or  two  instances,  resistance  was  made  to  the 
gend'armes,  who  fired  in  return,  and  blood  was  shed. 

The  infatuation  and  heartlessness  of  the  royal  family  were  conspicuous 
during  this  eventful  period.  There  seems  to  have  been  no  attempt  to 
retract,  when  it  was  obvious  they  could  not  proceed  without  massacre. 
The  old  king  is  said  to  have  spent  Monday  sparrow-shooting,  and 
Tuesday  card-playing,  even  while  the  roar  of  the  artillery,  mowing 
down  his  subjects,  was  in  his  ears ! 

On  Tuesday,  it  was  ascertained  that  Marmont,  the  most  obnoxious  of 
all  the  marshals  to  the  people,  was  appointed  commandant  of  the  troops 
in  Paris,  and  from  this  it  was  augured  that  the  most  desperate  extremities 
were  resolved  on.  The  popular  feeling  was  only  the  more  exasperated. 
About  the  middle  of  the  day  troops  were  marched  down  the  Boulevards 
as  far  as  the  gate  of  St.  Denis,  and  small  detachments  were  posted  in 
the  Rue  St.  Honore,  the  Place  Louis  XV.,  Place  Vendome,  and  other 
important  points. 

On  the  part  of  the  people  the  irritation  only  became  more  decided ;  oc- 
casional shots  were  exchanged  between  them  and  the  troops,  and  several 
fell  on  both  sides.  The  Tuilleries  was  the  head-quarters  of  Marmont, 
and  he  now  prepared  to  clear  itsneighbourhood  for  the  night.  Crowds 
had  gathered  in  the  Palais- Royal  during  the  day,  and  troops  were  sent 
to  clear  it  early  in  the  evening,  as  it  lies  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of 
the  palace.  The  first  detachment  which  attempted  to  drive  out  the 
people  was  considerably  opposed,  though  rather  by  threats  and  murmur- 
ings  than  any  actual  resistance.  It  is  said  that  the  officer,  a  captain,  in 
command  of  the  first  patrol,  who  exhibited  some  humane  unwillingness 
to  fire,  was  shot  by  his  own  subaltern ;  and  the  company  falling  into  the 
command  of  this  assassin,  was  instantly  ordered  to  fire,  which  it  did 
into  the  crowd.  After  some  tumult,  in  which  pistols  were  fired  by  the 
people  at  the  soldiery,  the  Palais-Royal  was  cleared  before  dusk,  the 
gate  closed,  and  the  whole  area  made  a  quarter  for  the  troops  during 
the  night. 


256  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  [SEPT; 

But  the  most  serious  rencontre  of  the  day  took  place  in  the  meantime 
on  the  Boulevard,  near  the  St.  Denis  gate.  The  crowd  rushing  from 
the  Palais-Royal  in  the  beginning  of  the  affray,  poured  down  the  Rue 
Vivienne  into  the  Boulevard.  There  they  were  met  by  the  multitude 
coming  up  from  the  Marais,  and  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  the  manu- 
facturing quarters  of  Paris;  whose  artizans  have  been  always  formidable 
in  the  French  insurrections,  and  who  having  been  dismissed  by  their 
masters,  and  out  of  work  all  day,  were  ready  for  any  desperate  enter- 
prize.  This  new  current  encountering  the  retreating  crowd,  forced 
them  back  upon  the  military,  and  a  conflict  of  some  severity  occurred ; 
during  which,  artillery  were  fired,  cavalry  charged,  and  a  considerable 
number  of  lives  were  lost  on  both  sides.  But  the  people  were  still  very 
imperfectly  armed ;  the  chief  part  having  nothing  but  pikes,  knives,  or 
clubs,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  fire-arms  being  old  muskets  taken 
from  the  theatres  and  warehouses,  fowling-pieces  from  the  gunsmith's 
shops,  and  pistols  belonging  to  private  individuals,  long  unused,  and 
of  course  comparatively  ineffective.  But  the  crowd  were  daring,  and 
in  the  face  of  the  soldiers  posted  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  shouted  out, 
'  Vive  la  Charte  /'  the  answer  to  which  was  generally  a  volley.  The 
garde-royale  were  the  most  active  on  the  occasion.  The  troops  of  the 
fine  were  evidently  disinclined  to  come  to  extremities  with  the  people, 
though  in  various  instances,  when  they  were  pressed  upon,  they  fired. 
The  loss  of  life  during  the  various  skirmishes  of  the  day  was  consider- 
able, and  the  horrid  spectacle  of  the  dead  and  wounded  carried  home 
by  their  friends  with  their  wounds  streaming,  raised  the  rage  of  the 
city  to  the  fiercest  determination.  The  day  had  been  intolerably 
sultry,  and  by  some  extraordinary  neglect,  the  troops,  already  under 
arms  during  twelve  hours,  seem  to  have  been  left  almost  totally  without 
food,  of  which  they  complained  bitterly. 

The  firing  closed  with  the  evening,  and  except  an  occasional  shot,  the 
city  seemed  quiet.  But  the  people  stood  at  their  doors  in  anxious 
groupes ;  men,  women  and  children,  talking  over  the  events  of  the 
day.  Some  in  tears  for  the  loss  of  their  friends ;  some  in  terror  for  the 
military  vengeance  to  come  ;  but  all  indignant  at  the  king,  the  ministers, 
and  the  Swiss  Guards. 

The  insurrection  now  seemed  to  have  died  away.  But  Marmont's 
sagacity  omitted  no  precaution  :  cannon  were  planted  in  the  Place  de 
Carousel,  and  the  Place  Louis  XV.,  commanding  the  front  and  rear  of 
the  Tuilleries ;  the  Pont  Royal  to  the  south  was  guarded,  and  the 
Boulevard  on  the  north  was  planted  with  patrols. 

But  in  the  midst  of  apparent  quietude,  this  was  the  night  of  activity 
on  the  part  of  the  citizens,  which  decided  the  great  contest.  It  is 
probable  that  they  were  now  for  the  first  time  joined  by  the  leading 
persons,  who,  both  as  deputies  and  soldiers,  were  marked  for 
ministerial  suspicion,  and  who  it  may  well  be  surmised,  if  the  ministers 
triumphed,  would  have  been  before  now  in  chains  or  in  exile.  There 
were  evident  symptoms  of  sagacious  guidance  in  the  conduct  of  the  mul- 
titude during  the  night  of  Tuesday,  and  the  various  struggles  of  the  day 
following.  The  pavements  were  dug  up,  and  formed  into  piles  across 
the  narrow  streets,  which  were  thus  made  impassable  by  cavalry,  and 
highly  hazardous  even  to  infantry.  Stones  were  collected  on  the  roofs 
of  the  houses,  and  every  contrivance  was  adopted  that  could  make  an 
entrance  into  the  interior  of  the  city  a  desperate  operation. 


1830.]  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  257 

But  the  most  effectual  effort  of  the  night,  or  rather  the  morning,  was 
the  seizure  of  the  arsenal.  By  that  fatuity  which  characterised  the  con- 
duct of  the  government  from  the  beginning,  a  large  magazine  of  arms 
had  been  left  exposed  to  the  first  attack.  At  two  in  the  morning  of 
Wednesday  the  28th,  a  body  of  the  people  rushed  to  this  building,  easily 
overpowered  the  feeble  guard,  seized  the  arms  and  distributed  them 
through  the  city.  But  they  were  soon  attacked  in  the  arsenal  by  an  over- 
powering force,  and  after  a  long  defence,  which  is  calculated  to  have 
cost  five  hundred  killed  and  wounded  on  both  sides,  the  troops  became 
masters  of  the  arsenal.  But  their  victory  was  too  late.  The  arms  were 
already  in  the  hands  of  the  thousands  of  daring  men,  who  were,  before 
that  day  was  done,  to  use  them  with  deadly  success  for  the  overthrow 
of  their  masters.  The  H6tel-de-Ville  had  also  been  taken  possession  of 
in  the  night,  and  filled  with  armed  men.  In  this  busy  night,  too,  the 
National  Guard,  which  had  been  disbanded  two  years  ago  by  the  king, 
gathered  its  remnants  together,  put  on  its  faded  habiliments,  burnished 
its  rusty  muskets,  and  showed  itself  boldly  at  the  head  of  the  people. 

Part  of  the  forenoon  was  quiet,  and  was  said  to  be  spent  in  an  ineffec- 
tual attempt  by  Lafitte  and  others,  who  had  now  come  forward  openly 
in  the  popular  cause,  to  negociate  with  Marmont  at  the  Louvre.  His 
answer  was,  that,  as  a  soldier,  he  must  do  his  duty,  but  that  he  would 
see  Polignac  on  the  subject.  On  referring  the  matter  to  Polignac,  the 
answer  was  peremptory,  "  That  it  was  impossible  to  withdraw  the  or- 
donnances !"  Then  replied  Lafitte,  "  You  proclaim  civil  war  !"  and 
retired.  The  last  interposition  between  these  madmen  and  their  fate 
was  done ;  and  the  military  immediately  marched  to  force  the  H6tel-de- 
Ville.  The  building  is  one  of  those  huge  and  massive  fabrics  of  stone 
which  are  so  common  in  Paris,  and  which  a  few  hours'  labour  could  con- 
vert into  a  tolerable  fortress.  The  Swiss  troops  were  chiefly  engaged  here^ 
andt  he  attack  cost  a  great  many  lives.  The  H6tel-de-Ville  was  taken  and 
re-taken,  but  the  Swiss  remained  masters  of  it  during  the  night.  However 
the  success  was  of  little  value,  for  the  soldiery  dared  not  pursue  the 
people  into  the  surrounding  streets.  The  barricades  were  formidable, 
the  roofs  were  covered  with  the  inhabitants  ready  to  throw  down  stones, 
and  every  thing  that  could  do  injury,  even  aquafortis,  by  which  some 
of  the  troops  were  severely  burnt;  and  a  heavy  firing  was  kept  up  from 
the  windows.  The  nature  of  the  streets  themselves  in  this  quarter  makes 
them  hazardous  even  in  the  quietest  times.  This  narrowness,  crooked- 
ness, and  darkness,  the  roughness  of  the  pavement,  the  total  want  of 
footway,  and  the  perpetual  filth,  make  them  frightful  to  the  English 
eye.  But  nothing  can  be  better  contrived  for  an  insurrection,  and  the 
traveller  can  scarcely  look  round  on  the  squalid  and  wild  looking  po- 
pulace, and  the  gloomy  and  enormous  houses  of  blackened  stone, 
without  imagining  that  he  treads  in  the  very  birth-place  of  popular 
insurrection. 

But  the  encounters  on  all  the  principal  points  were  severe,  and  ge- 
nerally to  the  disadvantage  of  the  troops.  Old  Lafayette  was  now  an- 
nounced as  the  commandant  of  the  people,  and  General  Gerard,  an 
officer  of  great  distinction,  served  under  him,  and  directed  the  chief 
attacks.  The  firing  continued  heavily  for  some  hours  during  the  middle 
of  the  day,  but  towards  evening  it  again  slackened.  The  result,  how- 
ever, was  different  from  that  of  the  dubious  success  of  Tuesday.  The 
troops  were  worsted  on  almost  every  point,  and  they  spent  the  night 
MM.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  57-  2  K 


258  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  [SEPT. 

bivouacked  closely  round  the  Tuilleries.  It  is  still  difficult  to  ascertain 
the  slaughter  of  this  bloody  day.  But  it  has  been  said  that  the  attack  and 
defence  of  the  H6tel-de-Ville  alone,  costs  upwards  of  a  thousand  lives. 
The  troops  were  now  completely  worn  out  by  excessive  fatigue,  and 
evidently  dispirited  by  the  hopelessness  of  success,  if  not  by  the  more 
honorable  disgust  to  the  horrid  nature  of  the  service.  Two  regiments  of 
the  line  showed  this  aversion  nobly,  by  first  refusing  to  fire  on  the 
people,  and  then  by  walking  over  and  joining  them.  A  number  of 
peasantry  from  the  neighbouring  villages  joined  the  citizens  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  and  by  night-fall  there  were  supposed  to  be  fifty 
thousand  men  in  arms  against  the  Government,  with  every  point  in 
their  possession,  (except  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  and  the  Tuilleries)  with  the 
Boulevard  blocked  up  with  trees,  waggons,  and  omnibuses ;  and  the 
interior  streets  completely  inaccessible  by  troops. 

At  this  time,  Marmont  appears  to  have  justly  looked  on  the  prospect 
as  hopeless,  and  orders  were  given  for  moving  the  military  to  St.  Cloud, 
to  protect  the  King.  But  Thursday  had  scarcely  dawned  when  the 
people  were  once  more  in  motion,  and  now  elated  by  their  triumph, 
they  rushed  to  complete  it  by  the  storm  of  the  Tuilleries.  They  found 
the  Swiss  and  the  Life  Guards  still  there,  and  the  firing  was  sustained 
with  some  briskness  for  awhile.  But  the  troops  were  gradually  with- 
drawn, the  people  pushed  on,  and  at  length  the  tri-coloured  flag 
hoisted  on  the  palace  gave  the  crowning  proof  that  the  day  of  the 
Bourbons  was  done  ! 

The  seizure  of  the  palace  afforded  another  instance  of  the  singular 
spirit  of  moderation  which  guided  the  people  through  the  whole  of 
those  transactions.  The  troops  had  remained  for  a  considerable  time  in 
the  Tuilleries,  and  the  assailants  might  be  supposed  to  feel  some  exas- 
peration from  their  defence ;  yet  there  was  none  of  the  barbarity  that 
belongs  to  the  passions  of  the  multitude.  There  was  no  cold-blood 
slaughter,  and  but  little  slaughter  of  any  kind.  Though  the  palace 
might  be  presumed  obnoxious,  as  the  residence  of  the  King ;  and  an 
object  of  popular  cupidity  from  its  precious  furniture  and  other  valu- 
ables ;  yet  no  plunder  took  place,  no  destruction,  and  even  scarcely  any 
of  that  mob  mischief  which  might  be  committed  in  sport ;  the  chief 
sign  of  havoc  being  the  cutting  up  of  Marmont's  picture  in  the  Hall  of 
the  Marshals,  which  was  pierced  with  innumerable  swords,  a  few 
window  curtains  divided  into  stripes,  to  decorate  the  persons  of  the 
warriors  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  and  a  few  bottles  of  wine  gaily 
drunk  by  the  visitors. 

When  we  contrast  this  trivial  injury  with  the  horrid  homicides  and 
plunder  of  the  10th  of  August,  1792,  or  of  any  of  the  periods  of  the 
Revolution,  we  must  either  believe  that  the  French  have  changed  their 
character,  or,  take  the  more  probable  solution,  that  they  were  under 
careful  and  attentive  guidance. 

The  King  was  now  undone :  the  events  of  Thursday,  the  29th,  decided 
the  question  of  his  remaining  on  the  throne — but  still  he  could  not 
comprehend  the  nature  of  his  situation.  About  four  thousand  troops 
were  concentrated  round  St.  Cloud,  and  the  King  and  the  Due  d'An- 
gouleme  rode  among  their  ranks,  and  probably  conceived  some  hope  of 
restoration — but  their  Parisian  victors  were  not  inclined  to  slumber  on 
their  victory.  On  Friday  they  made  a  reconnoissance  of  the  position  of 
St.  Cloud,  and  would  have  probably  stormed  it  on  the  next  morning, 


1830.]  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  259 

except  for  the  evidence  that  the  King  was  about  to  make  his  retreat  from 
the  neighbourhood.  Charles  X.,  previously  to  leaving  St.  Cloud,  abdi- 
cated the  crown,  for  himself  and  his  son,  in  favour  of  the  Due  de  Bour- 
deaux. 

The  Deputies  had  been  active  in  the  mean  while,  for  they  had  drawn 
up  a  form  of  provisional  government,  and  appointed  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  Lieutenant- General  of  the  kingdom.  The  doubts  now  were, 
which  direction  the  King  would  take :  if  by  the  great  northern  road,  he 
might  be  presumed  to  be  turning  towards  Holland  or  England,  a  harm- 
less direction ;  but  if  by  the  west,  he  would  have  the  road  to  the  Vendee 
open,  and  by  the  south,  the  garrisons  of  those  towns  where  the  Bourbon 
interest  was  still  supposed  strongest.  The  southern  provinces  were 
apparently  his  first  object,  for  he  moved  to  Versailles.  There,  however, 
he  found  the  spirit  of  the  people  against  him,  and  he  removed  still 
further,  to  Rambouillet.  The  fugitive  troops  had  now  considerably 
increased  in  number,  and  were  supposed  to  amount  to  fifteen  thousand. 
The  confidence  of  the  exiles  now  grew  again,  and  they  prepared  to  make 
a  stand;  the  King  withdrew  the  stipulations  offered  on  Sunday,  the  1st; 
the  Parisian  commissioners,  the  Dukes  of  Treviso  and  De  Coigny,  the 
Sieurs  Jaqueminot,  Barbot,  de  Schemer,  and  O'Dillon,  however,  proceeded, 
on  a  second  message  from  the  King,  and  the  result  was  a  letter  to  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  and  a  formal  abandonment  of  the  throne.  This  mea- 
sure was  universally  attributed  to  the  known  intention  of  the  Parisians 
to  march  forty  thousand  men  to  Rambouillet,  and  teach  the  exiles  the 
reality  of  their  fall. 

On  Thursday,  August  3,  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  in  his  new  capacity  of 
Lieutenant-General,  opened  the  Chambers,  accompanied  by  his  son,  his 
Duchess,  and  the  rest  of  his  family.  The  Duke's  speech  touched  gene- 
rally on  the  affairs  of  France. 

"  Peers  and  Deputies, — Paris  disturbed  by  a  deplorable  violation  of  the 
charter  and  the  laws,  defended  them  with  heroic  courage. — The  wishes 
of  my  fellow  citizens  turned  towards  me.— The  cause  appeared  to  me 
to  be  just,  the  dangers  immense,  the  necessity  imperative,  my  duty 
sacred. — I  think  it  right  immediately  to  call  your  attention  to  the 
organization  of  the  National  Guards,  the  application  of  the  jury  to  the 
crimes  of  the  press,  the  formation  of  the  department  and  municipal 
administrations,  and  to  the  14th  article  of  the  Charter,  which  has  been 
so  shamefully  misrepresented." 

Such  are  the  heads  of  this  compact  which  the  Duke  of  Orleans  entered 
into  with  the  nation,  as  lieutenant-general,  or  temporary  governor. 

A  not  less  important  document  was,  immediately  after,  transmitted  by 
the  commissioners  sent  to  treat  with  the  King. 

te  TO    THE    DUKE    OF   ORLEANS. 

"  Rambouillet,  Aug.  2,  1830. 

"  MY  COUSIN — I  am  too  profoundly  grieved  by  the  evils  which  afflict  or 
might  threaten  my  people,  not  to  have  sought  a  means  of  preventing  them.  I 
.  have  therefore  taken  the  resolution  to  abdicate  the  crown  in  favour  of  my 
grandson  the  Duke  de  Bordeaux.  The  Dauphin,  who  partakes  my  sentiments, 
also  renounces  his  rights  in  favour  of  his  nephew.  You  will  have,  then,  in 
your  quality  of  Lieutenant-General  of  the  kingdom,  to  cause  the  accession  of 
Henry  V.  to  the  crown  to  be  proclaimed.  You  will  take  besides  all  the  mea- 
sures which  concern  you  to  regulate  the  forms  of  the  Government  during  the 
minority  of  the  new  King.  Here  I  confine  myself  to  making  known  these 
dispositions ;  it  is  a  means  to  avoid  many  evils.  You  will  communicate  my 

2  K  2 


260  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  [SEPT 

intention  to  the  diplomatic  body  ;  and  you  will  acquaint  me  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble with  the  proclamation  by  which  my  grandson  shall  have  been  recognized 
King  of  France,  under  the  name  of  Henry  V.  I  charge  Lieutenant-General 
Viscount  de  Froissac-Latour  to  deliver  this  letter  to  you.  He  has  orders  to 
settle  with  you  the  arrangements  to  be  made  in  favour  of  the  persons  who 
have  accompanied  me,  as  well  as  the  arrangements  necessary  for  what  con- 
cerns me  and  the  rest  of  my  family.  We  will  afterwards  regulate  the  other 
measures  which  will  be  the  consequences  of  the  change  of  the  reign.  I  repeat 
to  you,  my  cousin,  the  assurances  of  the  sentiments  with  which  I  am  your 
affectionate  cousin,  "  CHARLES. 

Louis-  ANTOINE." 

This  instrument  was  sufficient,  so  far  as  it  decided  the  fact  of  the 
King's  abdication.  But  the  Duke  of  Bourdeaux's  accession  was  not 
equally  palateable  to  the  men  who  had  conquered  the  tyranny.  They 
must  have  felt  that  the  first  act  of  any  member  of  the  dynasty  would  be 
to  avenge  himself  on  the  opponents  of  the  Bourbons,  and  they  naturally 
resolved  to  put  this  vengeance  out  of  their  power.  It  was  speedily 
done.  The  deputies  offered  the  crown  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  He 
accepted  it,  and  on  Saturday,  August  7th,  at  six  in  the  evening,  he  was 
saluted  King  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  by  the  title  of  "  Louis 
Philippe  the  First,  King  of  the  French."  He  then  rose  and  pronounced 
the  oath,  in  a  sonorous  voice,  and  with  remarkable  dignity  and 
solemnity. 

"  In  the  presence  of  God,  I  swear  faithfully  to  observe  the  Constitu- 
tional Charter,  with  the  changes  and  modifications  expressed  in  the 
declaration  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies ;  to  govern  only  by  the  laws  and 
according  to  the  laws,  to  cause  good  and  strict  justice  to  be  done  to 
every  body  according  to  his  right,  and  to  act  in  all  things  solely  with  a 
view  to  promote  the  happiness  and  glory  of  the  French  people." 

The  oath  was  responded  to  by  shouts  of  the  Deputies,  and  cries  of 
<(  Long  live  the  Queen!  long  live  the  Royal  Family  \"  all  eyes  being  now 
turned  on  the  boxes  in  which  the  Orleans  family  sat.  The  shout  was 
echoed  in  the  streets,  and  the  air  was  rent  with  joyous  acclamations. 

A  ministry  has  since  been  formed,  consisting  of  men,  generally  of  ac- 
knowledged ability. 

COUNT  DE  MOLE  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs. 

GENERAL  GERARD  Minister  of  War. 

BARON  Louis  Minister  of  Finance. 

Due  DE  BROGL IB  Minister  of  Education,  and  Pre- 

sident of  the  Council  of  State. 

M.  DE  GUIZOT  Minister  of  the  Interior. 

GENERAL  SEBASTIANI  Minister  of  the  Marine. 

M.  DUPONT  DE  L'EuRE  Minister  of  Justice. 

The  progress  of  the  late  king  to  the  coast  was  slow,  apparently  with 
the  idea  of  waiting  for  some  movement  in  his  favour  ;  but  in  this  he  was 
deceived,  as  in  all  his  calculations.  The  whole  of  France  was  either 
passive,  or  enthusiastic  in  approval  of  the  change — the  Bourbons  tra- 
versed the  immense  tract  of  country  from  Rambouillet  to  Cherbourg, 
without  gaining  a  single  additional  adherent — the  tri-colour  was  hoisted 
every  where — but  they  were  treated  with  respect,  which  argues  favoura- 
bly for  the  feeling  which  the  change  has  produced  in  the  national  charac- 
ter. At  Cherbourg  they  embarked  on  board  two  American  steam-boats, 
and  attended  by  two  French  ships  of  war,  reached  Portsmouth,  after  a 


1830.]  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830.  261 

twenty-four  hours'  sail ;  there,  after  some  negociations  with  the  English 
government,  the  late  king  was  permitted  to  take  up  his  residence  in 
England ;  but  as  a  private  subject ;  and  it  is  understood  that  he  has  fixed 
upon  Lulworth,  the  house  of  Mr.  Weld,  who  had  been  lately  made  a 
cardinal,  and  who  will  of  course  consider  himself  much  honoured  by 
the  presence  of  the  great  friend  of  the  Jesuits,  his  Most  Catholic  Ma- 
jesty. 

It  is  creditable  to  the  people  of  the  Isle  of  Wight,  Portsmouth,  and 
Poole,  that  they  received  the  French  exiles  with  respect.  A  proposal  to 
wear  the  tri-coloured  cockade  was  put  down  by  an  universal  expression  of 
displeasure,  as  an  ungenerous  insult  to  fallen  dignity ;  and  the  feeling 
of  England  towards  them  all,  is  as  it  ought  to  be,  one  of  commiseration. 
They  have  looked  to  us  for  refuge,  and  refuge  must  be  granted  to  them 
— they  have  relied  upon  our  hospitality,  and  we  must  not  disgrace  our 
national  character  by  refusing  it.  To  us  the  Bourbons  have  done  no 
evil,  and  we  have  no  right  to  revenge  the  wrongs  of  others  on  exiles  now 
helpless,  and  punished  by  their  fall  from  one  of  the  highest  stations  to 
which  human  weakness  can  be  raised.  We  entirely  rely  upon  the  manly 
feeling  and  native  generosity  of  our  country,  to  treat  those  unfortunate 
people  with  the  decorum  due  to  their  original  rank,  and  their  memorable 
misfortunes. 

But  what  is  to  be  the  consequence  of  this  great  revolution  to  France 
and  Europe  ?  Every  man  has  a  theory  of  his  own ;  and  the  general 
voice  is,  that  it  must  be  the  parent  of  many  revolutions.  Reports  have 
been  already  spread  of  a  Spanish  insurrection,  and  sanguine  specula- 
tors calculate  the  hour  in  which  shall  be  added  to  this,  a  Portuguese 
one,  a  Prussian,  an  Austrian,  a  Russian,  a  Polish,  a  Hungarian,  an 
Italian,  and  a  Belgian,  &c.  &c. 

However  we  cannot  trust  our  speculations  so  far.  This  "  march"  of  re- 
volution seems  premature.  The  Spanish  report  is  not  true;  though  there 
it  is  most  probable ;  and  it  is  true  that  many  of  the  Spanish  emigrants  are 
preparing  to  return  to  their  country  with  arms.  We  much  doubt  the 
prudence  of  this  step  for  awhile,  and  shall  probably  hear  some  disastrous 
story  of  their  adding  to  the  victims  of  Ferdinand's  despotism. 

It  is  undeniable  that  the  continent  abounds  with  the  spirit  of  revolu- 
tion, and  that  a  great  popular  insurrection  in  any  one  of  its  kingdoms 
would  overthrow  any  of  its  thrones.  But  we  wait  for  the  proof  that 
such  tremendous  experiments  are  necessary.  Austria  is  the  most  com- 
plete despotism  of  the  continent ;  yet  her  government  is  gentle,  for  it 
follows  the  character  of  the  monarch,  as  in  all  complete  despotisms,  and 
the  character  of  Francis  is  gentle.  In  the  other  German  governments 
the  discontent  exists  chiefly  among  the  professors  of  the  colleges,  and  no 
man  loves  a  professor  of  a  college  well  enough  to  follow  him  to  the  field, 
where  even  escape  from  that  may  lead  to  the  scaffold.  Besides,  the 
governments  are  not  practically  oppressive  to  the  multitude,  and  they 
are  all  improving.  Italy  may  be  shaken ;  but  without  French  aid  Italy 
will  not  rise  in  a  body ;  and  unless  it  does,  insurrection  will  only  fill 
additional  dungeons ;  French  aid  will  not  be  given  for  the  purpose,  at 
least,  while  France  is  a  monarchy,  under  the  present  king. 

The  distinction  between  the  case  of  France  and  that  of  the  other 
continental  powers,  is,  that  after  having  obtained  a  free  code,  and 
brought  in  the  Bourbons  on  the  faith  of  its  acceptance,  the  Bourbons 
denied  their  own  acts,  violated  their  oaths,  and  menaced  the  people 


262  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1830. 

with  vengeance.  The  French  were  thus  compelled  to  resist,,  or  be 
trampled  on.  They  fought  for  no  fancied  freedom,  as  in  the  old  revolu- 
tionary day  ;  but  they  fought  to  restrain  what  they  justly  looked  on  as 
an  act  of  danger  to  every  man  among  them,  as  the  forerunner  of  exile, 
confiscations,  banishments  and  deaths.  The  people  had  not  declared 
.war  upon  the  King,  until  the  King  had  first  waved  the  scourge,  and 
pointed  the  sword  against  the  public  breast.  It  was  this  feeling  of 
undoubted  right  and  indignant  justice  that  armed  the  French  against 
the  Bourbons,  and  made  them  victors  in  the  struggle. 

If  any  continental  government  shall  hazard  the  same  treachery,  then 
will  the  people  have  the  same  right ;  and  if  they  will  vindicate  it,  they 
will  have  the  .same  success.  But  not  till  then. 

Yet  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  popular  opinion  has  acquired  an 
extraordinary  vigour  in  every  country  by  the  success  of  the  French. 
Men  will  no  longer  feel  the  same  awe  of  government.  The  notions  of 
republicanism  will  grow  more  attractive,  and  changes  must  take  place. 
But  we  think  that  our  speculators  look  for  those  changes  too  soon. 
They  must  take  time  to  ripen. 

France  is  already  a  virtual  republic.  The  King  is  only  a  president 
for  life ;  and  probably  in  the  passing  of  a  few  years,  we  shall  see  his 
tenure  curtailed,  and  a  French  president  rise  and  descend  every  five 
years.  France  has  now,  except  in  the  Tuilleries,  all  the  features  of  a 
republic  ;  no  national  religion ;  all  religions  paid  by  the  public  purse  ; 
a  peerage  equivalent  to  none,  or  merely  to  the  better  classes  of 
.America,  and  likely  to  melt  down  into  poverty  and  obscurity,  by  the 
abolition  of  the  law  of  primogeniture  ;  a  powerful  commonalty,  which 
legislates,  and  actually  commands  the  state  ;  and  an  immense  militia, 
officered  by  itself,  and  under  the  command  of  the  popular  body. 
,  If  France  do  not  take  the  name  of  a  republic  as  well  as  the  reality,  it 
is  merely  through  regard  for  the  present  King.  But  his  successor  may  see 
the  change.  Then  indeed  universal  war  would  not  be  incredible.  Kings 
would  be  either  overthrown  by  their  subjects,  in  imitation  of  France,  or 
be  forced  to  guard  against  French  doctrines  and  political  missionaries, 
with  a  vigilance  which  must  produce  bickering,  and  from  this  the  next 
step  is  war. 

To  us  this  seems  the  probable  catastrophe;  but  it  probably  will 
be  remote.  France  has  much  to  do  before  she  can  think  of  her  neigh- 
•bours;  she  too  may  have  grown  wiser  from  the  terrible  lessons  of  war. 
A  patriot  king  may  turn  her  ambition  to  industry,  commerce,  and  the 
arts.  Her  growing  prosperity  and  her  better  knowledge  may  make  her 
at  once  dread  the  losses  of  all  wars,  and  disdain  the  worthless  and  crimi- 
nal glory  of  conquest.  Thus  years  may  pass  before  Europe  is  compelled 
to  a  struggle  for  her  existence. 

In  England,  we  want  no  revolution  ;  we  want  nothing  but  quiet,  and 
the  dismissal  of  men  odious  to  the  nation  for  blundering  its  interests  at 
home  and  abroad,  and  suspected  of  mixing  themselves  with  Foreign 
Politics  of  a  mysterious  kind;  we  want  the  restoration  of  the  old  laws  of 
trade,  of  currency,  of  the  press,  and  of  the  finances.  With  the  King,  the 
empire  is  evidently  pleased ;  his  honesty  of  manner,  his  jovial  good 
humour,  and  his  evident  desire  to  make  himself  acceptable  to  the  people, 
have  done  more  for  William  the  Fourth's  popularity  in  a  couple  of 
months,  than  all  the  costly  fetes  and  building  expenditures  of  the  palace 
had  done  within  twenty  years.  England  wants  no  revolution,  and  will 


1 830.]  The  French  Revolution  of  July,  1 830.  263 

undergo  none.  But  France  is  probably  in  the  progress  to  other  and  more 
important  changes.  The  continent  is  ready  for  change,  but  time  must 
elapse  before  the  revolutionary  material  can  be  wrought  into  the  revolu- 
tionary thunderbolt;  we  have  no  desire  to  see  that  tremendous  remedy  for 
political  evils  resorted  to  in  any  country  ;  but  in  England  we  cannot 
discover  the  slightest  use  for  it,  nor  the  slightest  probability  of  its  being 
begun  by  the  people  :  if  it  be  begun  by  others,  woe  be  to  them ;  let  the 
example  of  the  Polignacs  be  before  their  eyes,  and  let  them  see  the  fate 
of  treachery  to  the  people  and  bad  advice  to  the  king ! 

In  our  narrative  we  have  mentioned  that  Lafitte's  interview  with 
Marmont  was  on  Wednesday.  It  took  place  on  Thursday  a  short  time 
before  the  attack  on  the  Tuilleries. 

The  number  of  killed  and  wounded  had  been  variously  reckoned 
from  1,000  to  10,000.  The  last  return  from  the  hospitals  gives  nearly 
1,700  wounded.  But  this  does  not  include  the  people  and  soldiery 
conveyed  to  the  private  houses.  Nor  has  there  been  any  known 
reckoning  of  the  dead;  numbers  of  whom  were  conveyed  down  the 
Seine  in  barges,  or  buried  hastily  in  the  environs.  In  all  details  of  this 
hurried  nature  there  must  be  errors,  but  the  French  owe  it  to  themselves 
to  give  an  exact  and  authentic  statement  of  the  memorable  27th,  28th, 
and  29th  of  July — the  three  day  s  of  their  triumph— to  Europe,  and 
to  Posterity ! 


A    SERIES    OF    STANZAS    ON    TOBACCO. 

No.  I. 

FRIEND  of  the  friendless, — philanthropic  weed  ! 

On  rich  and  poor  alike  thy  balm  bestowing-, 

In  humble  clay,  or  richest  hookah  glowing, 
Blest  be  thy  tillage,  fruitful  be  thy  seed  ; 
In  happier  days  from  all  vile  duty  freed ! 

Light  be  the  turf  upon  the  honoured  grave 

Of  him  who  bore  thee  o'er  the  Western  wave  ; 
Deathless  in  fame,  if  this  his  only  deed  ! 
Immortal  RALEIGH  !  were  Potatoes  not, 

Could  grateful  Ireland  e'er  forget  thy  claim  ? 
"  Were  all  thy  proud  historic  deeds  forgot," 

That  blend  thy  memory  with  Eliza's  fame ; 
Could  England's  annals  in  oblivion  rot, 

TOBACCO  would  enshrine  and  consecrate  thy  name  ! 

No.  II. 


Let  Eastern  nightingales,  as  poets  sing, 
"  Die  of  a  rose  in  aromatic  pain  ;" 
Let  Moore  take  up  the  imitative  strain, 

And  deck  with  Persian  flowers  his  dulcet  string ; 

It  sickens  me  to  read  of  endless  Spring, 

And  flowers  that  seem  alike  to  bud  and  blow, 
Beneath  the  Summer's  sun  and  Winter's  snow, 

Heaping  their  sweets  on  Zephyr's  weary  wing. 


264  A  Series  of  Stanzas  on  Tobacco.  £SEPT. 

Doubtless,  such  odours  most  delicious  are 

To  votaries  of  heaven-born  Poesy  ; 
But  to  my  senses  more  congenial  far 

(Howe'er  degrading  such  confession  be) 
Th'  aroma  mounting  from  a  mild  cigar. 

Choose  worthless  llowers  who  will ;  Havannah's  weed  for  me  ! 

No.  III. 

On  many  a  foreign  shore,  in  many  a  scene 

Of  beauty,  wonder,  peril, — seldom  prest 

By  wanderers  from  the  Islands  of  the  West,—- 
The  wayward  footsteps  of  the  bard  have  been  : 
The  Soonder  wastes, — Napoleon's  prison-isle, — 

Where  the  young  Ganges  leaves  his  native  snows, — 

The  woods  and  wilds  where  Irawady  flows, — 
And  where  Caffraria's  dingy  damsels  smile : 

Weary  and  faint  my  sinking  soul  the  while, 

But  for  one  loved  companion  of  my  toil  : 
TOBACCO  !  in  my  joy  thou  didst  not  flatter; 

TOBACCO  !  from  my  woes  thou  didst  not  flee  ; 
And  Fortune  to  the  winds  her  gifts  may  scatter, 

I  shall  not  miss  them — so  she  leave  me  thee  ! 


No.  IV. 

Let  Dantzick  boast  her  matchless  eau-de-vie  ; 

Let  gin,  Schedam,  immortalise  thy  name ; 

Rum  and  rum-shrub  support  Jamaica's  fame; 
Grog — toddy — punch — whate'er  the  mixture  be — 
Or  naked  dram, — shall  not  be  sung  by  me. 

I  sing  the  praises  of  that  glorious  weed, 

Dear  to  mankind,  whate'er  his  race,  or  creed, 
Condition,  colour,  dwelling,  or  degree  ! 

From  Zembla's  snows  to  parched  Arabia's  sands, 

Loved  by  all  lips,  and  common  to  all  hands  ! 
Hail,  sole  cosmopolite,  TOBACCO,  hail ! 

Shag,  long-cut,  short-cut,  pig-tail,  quid,  or  roll, 
Dark  Negrohead,  or  Orfnooko  pale, 

In  every  form  congenial  to  the  soul ! 

R.  M. 


1830.]  265     ] 

,.  -,,  .     /•„  ...,'  -  vff  i*v,#,  ?f<ptjM>.  tv.v'.'  »-v  "n.jJjT  - 

THE    ARCH-DRUID  I 

A   TALE   OF   THE    ANCIENT    BRITONS. 

THE  Romans,  it  is  well  known,  though  they  carried  their  victorious 
arms  through  almost  every  quarter  of  England  and  Scotland,  never 
wholly  subjugated  Wales.  Indeed,  they  rarely  penetrated  beyond  what 
were  called,  in  later  times,  the  Marches ;  for,  towards  the  south,  the 
mountain-fastnesses,  deep  woods,  and  indomitable  spirit  of  the  Silures, 
precluded  all  chance  of  a  permanent  conquest.  The  Druids,  too — that 
extraordinary  and  influential  compound  of  the  priest  and  warrior — who 
combined  the  shrewdest  sagacity  with  the  wildest  superstition ;  whose 
religion  was  a  heterogeneous  amalgamation  of  the  systems  of  Pytha- 
goras, Zoroaster,  and  the  Indian  Bramins — helped  to  keep  alive  the  flame 
of  liberty ;  and  when  once  their  patriotic  appeals  were  gone  forth,  woe 
to  those  on  whose  ears  they  fell  unheeded  !  Sometimes,  however,  it 
happened  that  these  martial  hierarchs,  usually  scattered  over  the  face 
of  the  country,  would  be  all  assembled  in  convocation  at  Mona  (Anglesea), 
in  which  case  such  Roman  cohorts  as  chanced  to  be  encamped  on  the 
borders,  never  failed  to  take  advantage  of  their  absence,  ravage  the 
adjacent  provinces,  and  occasionally  retain  possession  of  them  for 
months. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions,  when  the  whole  fraternity  of  Druids 
were  assembled  together  in  the  performance  of  an  annual  sacrifice  at 
Mona,  that  three  detachments  of  the  Roman  legion,  entering  South 
Wales  by  the  Brecon  Van,  advanced  as  far  as  the  modern  little  town  of 
Llangadock.  The  leader  of  these  troops  was  Sergius  Publicola,  a  young 
soldier  of  fortune,  rude  and  uncultivated  in  mind, — stern  and  unfor- 
giving in  temper, — though  not  without  some  redeeming  traits  of  open- 
ness, simplicity,  and  good-nature.  He  was  a  Dacian,  consequently  a 
slave  by  birth,  but  by  his  bravery  and  strict  attention  to  his  military 
duties,  had  procured  himself  to  be  enrolled  among  the  "  cives,"  or  citi- 
zens, of  Rome — a  privilege  which  enabled  him  to  serve  as  a  freeman 
in  the  imperial  armies,  and  in  course  of  time  to  obtain  the  command  of 
part  of  the  army  quartered  in  Britain.  Already,  in  this  new  capacity, 
had  he  over-run  a  great  portion  of  the  western  provinces,  when  the 
news  of  the  departure  of  the  Druids  for  the  chief  seat  of  their  hierarchy, 
induced  him  to  hasten  into  Wales.  Here  he  met  with  but  little  deci- 
sive opposition,  and  was  soon  enabled  to  intrench  himself  in  the  heart 
of  Carmarthenshire.  One  chieftain,  however,  occasioned  him  no  slight 
annoyance.  This  youth,  by  name  Caradoc,  was,  like  most  of  his  coun- 
trymen, a  sworn  foe  to  the  Romans.  He  was  the  prince,  or  rather 
king,  of  the  Silures,  and  had  lately  strengthened  his  power  by  marriage 
with  Cartismandua,  daughter  to  the  queen  of  the  Ordovices — a  proud, 
sagacious  woman,  who,  to  beauty  of  superior  order,  added  a  crafty,  vin- 
dictive, but  intrepid  and  romantic  nature.  In  early  life  she  had  been 
sent — no  uncommon  thing  with  the  patrician  Britons,  particularly  with 
those  of  the  Ordovices — to  Rome,  where  she  received  a  befitting  edu- 
cation, though  fortunately  unalloyed  by  the  lax  effeminacy  -of  the  Ita- 
lian dames  of  quality.  She  it  was  who,  at  the  period  to  which  this 
tale  refers,  infuriated  by  the  barbarities  of  the  invaders,  kept  alive  the 
enmity  of  her  husband  and  his  tribe.  Her  domains  skirted  the  Black 

MM.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  57.  2  L 


266  The  Arch-Druid :  [SEPT. 

Mountains ;  and  whenever  the  Roman  squadrons  encamped  for  the 
night,  her  troops  rarely  failed  to  cut  off  the  stragglers.  Sergius  Publi- 
cola  was  naturally  maddened  by  this  teasing  hostility.  In  vain,  how- 
ever, he  dispatched  cohort  after  cohort  in  pursuit.  No  traces  could  be 
found  of  the  foe,  who  remained  securely  sheltered  in  their  mountain  and 
forest  recesses. 

Such  was  the  posture  of  affairs,  when  one  morning  a  loud  shout  in  the 
camp  apprized  Sergius  that  something  unusual  had  occurred.  On  rush- 
ing out  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  uproar,  he  was  met  outside  his  tent 
by  a  band  of  soldiers  bearing  with  them,  as  captives,  Caradoc  and  Car- 
tismandua.  As  the  Dacian  listened  to  the  details  of  the  capture  of  these, 
his  two  bitterest  enemies,  his  soul  sprang  to  his  eyes  in  rapture.  The 
chief  obstacles  to  his  supremacy  were  now  in  his  power.  What,  then, 
should  prevent  him  from  confirming  himself  in  the  possession  of  at  least 
South  Wales  ?  For  a  few  minutes  he  stood  like  one  "  demented,"  as 
these  dreams  of  conquest  passed  before  him ;  then,  suddenly  starting 
from  his  reverie,  re-entered  his  tent,  and  beckoned  his  satellites  to 
follow. 

Here,  throwing  himself  along  his  military  couch,  he  cast  a  stern 
eye  on  the  prisoners.  The  man  possessed  apparently  little  besides 
youth,  and  a  certain  noble  air  of  hauteur,  to  recommend  him :  but 
his  wife,  in  addition  to  her  beauty,  seemed  to  concentrate  all  the 
haughtiness  of  a  high-born  race  in  her  single  person.  Her  step  was 
proud,  as  if  she  disdained  the  very  earth  she  trod  on ;  her  person 
slender,  but  majestic,  and  fashioned  in  the  finest  mould  of  sym- 
metry ;  her  hair  black  as  the  brow  of  midnight ;  her  countenance  pale 
and  oval ;  her  lip  restless,  and  expressive  of  profound  sensibility ;  her 
eye — dark — full — piercing — but  rendered  eloquently  feminine  by  the 
occasional  gleams  of  gentleness  and  melancholy  that  shot  forth  from 
under  the  long  fringe  of  its  lashes.  At  any  other  period,  she  might 
possibly  have  inspired  her  conqueror  with  feelings  akin  to  softness  ;  but 
now  austerer  thoughts  engrossed  him,  and  he  beheld  in  Cartismandua, 
not  the  captive  queen  and  beauty,  but  the  unwearied  and  therefore 
detested  enemy. 

(t  For  you,"  he  said,  turning  a  vindictive  glance  on  Caradoc,  "  the 
fate  of  a  rebel  is  reserved.  But  I  war  not  with  woman,  and  your  wife 
there  is  free  to  depart ;  at  least" — he  added,  with  insulting  bitterness — 
"  when  she  has  received  sufficient  warning  from  the  sight  of  her  hus- 
band's punishment. — What,  ho  !  there ;"  and  at  the  sound  of  their  com- 
mander's voice,  his  guards  stepped  forward,  and  by  his  directions  drag- 
ged the  captives  towards  an  open  space,  encircled  by  the  Roman 
encampment.  The  Dacian  himself  followed,  and  having  taken  his  sta- 
tion in  front  of  a  squadron  drawn  up  for  the  occasion,  declared  aloud, 
that  as  Caradoc  had  been  found  in  arms  against  his  only  legitimate 
sovereign  the  Emperor,  he  was  no  prisoner  of  war,  but  an  arch  rebel 
and  traitor ;  that  as  such,  his  back  should  be  forthwith  submitted  to  the 
scourge,  and  he  himself  be  detained  a  slave  among  the  refuse  of  the 
camp  till  the  emperor's  pleasure  should  be  known. 

"  Let  me  die,"  said  the  British  prince,  as  he  heard  this  harsh  sen- 
tence ;  "  let  me  die,  I  implore  you,  like  a  warrior ;  I  will  meet  death 
without  a  sigh,  but  let  me  not  be  exposed  to  the  mockery  of  your  whole 
camp." 

A  scornful  laugh  from  Sergius,  and  a  shout  from  his  ferocious  soldiery 


1830.;]  a  Tale  of  the  Ancient  Britons.  207 

— who  with  true  Roman  pride  looked  on  the  Britons  as  barbarians,,  on 
whom  the  usual  courtesies  of  war  would  be  lost — were  the  sole  replies 
to  this  request.  Not  a  voice  was  raised  in  the  noble  captive's  behalf. 
Not  a  single  Roman,  even  among  the  better  and  more  chivalrous  class, 
exclaimed  against  the  manifest  injustice  of  his  sentence.  Finding,  there- 
fore, all  further  expostulation  useless,  Caradoc  sternly  prepared  himself 
for  the  worst,  and  stood  firm  and  composed,  and  hurling  defiance  with 
his  eyes  at  Sergius  ;  while  the  sub-lictor,  after  binding  him  to  two 
tent-poles,  which  had  been  hastily  driven  into  the  earth,  made  ready  his 
instrument  of  torture. 

At  this  instant,  Cartismandua,  who  till  now  had  looked  on  as  if  she 
doubted  the  reality  of  what  was  passing  before  her,  rushed  up  to  Ser- 
gius, coaxed — threatened — and  even  clung  about  his  knees,  imploring 
mercy  on  her  husband. 

"  Spare  him,"  she  said,  "  I  implore  you,  spare  him  !  He  has  been  a 
bold,  a  manly  foe,  and  may  yet  prove  a  faithful  ally." 

The  Dacian  gave  no  reply  ;  so,  flattering  herself  that  she  had  made 
some  impression,  Cartismandua  continued :  "  By  the  bones  of  your 
father  and  your  mother — by  the  lofty  spirit  of  the  soldier — by  the 
common  links  of  humanity  that  bind  man  and  man  together — I  con- 
jure you,  spare  my  husband.  Do  not  bow  down  his  noble  nature  beneath 
the  weight  of  this  ignominy.  Have  some  little  regard  for  the  princely 
blood  that  flows  in  his  veins.  Detain  him,  if  you  will,  a  hostage;  fix  his 
ransom  at  your  own  price  ;  but  in  mercy  do  not  put  this  foul,  this  inde- 
lible disgrace  upon  him." 

"  Peace,  woman  \"  replied  the  Dacian  ;  {{  your  husband  cannot  be 
pardoned.  For  months  past  he  has  been  Rome's  worst  enemy,  and  shall 
pay  the  full  forfeit  of  his  rebellion.  —  To  your  task !"  he  added, 
addressing  himself  to  the  lictor,  who  stood  with  arm  uplifted  beside  the 
prisoner. 

"  Yet  stay  one  instant/'  rejoined  Cartismandua,  her  eyes  streaming 
with  tears ;  "  you  know  not  what  you  do.  If  one  spark  of  pity  yet 
linger  in  your  breast, — if  you  be  not  altogether  cold — heartless — inexo- 
rable— speak  but  the  word,  and  restore  your  captive,  if  not  to  freedom, 
at  least  to  honour.  Surely,  surely,  you  cannot  hesitate.  Lowly  on  the 
bare  earth,  I  who  never  yet  stooped  to  friend  or  foe,  conjure  you  to 
grant  my " 

"  Away — away  !"  interrupted  Sergius,  indignantly  ;  "  we  have  had 
too  much  of  this  puling  wealaiess.  Justice  must  have  her  due/'  Then 
waving  his  hand  to  the  sub-lictor,  "  Strike,  Sir,  and  strike  home ;  these 
brawny  barbarians  are  not  easily  made  to  feel." 

"  Ay,  strike,"  replied  Cartismandua,  as  she  proudly  regained  her  feet. 
"  Strike,  slave — Dacian — tyrant ! — but  for  every  lash  your  base-born 
hireling  inflicts ;  for  every  groan  your  victim  stifles ;  for  every  pang 
that  now  rends  my  heart  to  bursting,  on  your  head  shall  fall  the  punish- 
ment and  the  vengeance.  Strike ! — but  remember  that  night  follows 
day  less  surely  than  retribution — a  bloody,  a  merciless  retribution- 
shall  succeed  this  outrage." 

"  Slave,  to  your  task !"  rejoined  the  Dacian,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 
The  man  was  not  slow  to  obey;  and  self-abased — distracted — para- 
lyzed with  contending  emotions,  the  wretched  queen  was  compelled 
to  be  an  eye-witness  of  her  husband's  degradation ;  to  see  the  hot 
blood  spurt  in  torrents  from  his  back  — his  muscles  stiffened  and 

2  L  2 


The  Arch-Druid:  [SEPT. 

swollen  with  agony — his  mangled  flesh  scattered  in  fragments  to  the  air ! 
Still,  notwithstanding  his  intense  sufferings,  neither  by  word,  look,  nor 
gesture,  would  Caradoc  acknowledge  that  he  felt  them.  Though  the 
cold  drops  trickled  down  his  brow  ;  though  his  nether  lip  was  bit  through 
and  through  by  his  clenched  teeth,  his  eagle  eye  quailed  not,  his  coun- 
tenance lost  not  one  atom  of  its  proud,  unbending  expression.  But  Car- 
tismandua — how  terrible  she  looked  !  A  tranquil,  sullen  despair  had 
succeeded  her  former  frightful  impetuosity ;  a  smooth,  almost  a  smiling 
calmness,  had  spread  itself  over  the  surface  of  her  passions  j  but  beneath 
that  surface,  still  and  moveless  as  it  seemed,  an  earthquake  was  at  work; 
and  it  was  only  in  the  convulsive  twitching  of  the  lip,  and  the  strange 
glare  of  the  red,  dilated  eye,  that  its  tremendous  energies  could  be 
detected. 

For  the  space  of  one  long  protracted  hour,  she  stood  gazing  with 
apparent  apathy,  first  on  Sergius,  then  on  Caradoc,  then  on  the  different 
martial  groups  that  surrounded  her,  turning  her  glance  from  one  to 
another,  as  if  all  were  equally  strange ;  but  no  sooner  had  she  seen  her 
almost  lifeless  husband  removed  from  his  place  of  torture,  and  clad  in 
the  vile  garb  of  a  slave,  than  recognition  at  once  returned  j  her  woman's 
frame  could  no  longer  support  the  shock,  and  she  sank  with  a  thrilling 
scream  senseless  to  the  ground. 

No  longer  molested  by  the  incessant  hostility  of  Caradoc,  Sergius 
now  continued  his  route  triumphantly  towards  the  sea,  in  the  direction 
of  Aberavon,  where  he  succeeded  in  establishing  his  head-quarters. 
Before,  however,  he  could  arrange  his  plans  for  a  more  extensive  con* 
quest,  the  Emperor  Claudius  recalled  him  abruptly  to  Rome,  concluded 
a  peace  with  the  Silures,  and  appointed  Nerva  Coccoeius,  praetor  of 
the  army  on  the  eastern  provinces,  his  successor. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  day  which  preceded  his  departure  from 
Britain — about  six  months  subsequent  to  the  incidents  which  we  have 
just  related — that  Sergius,  as  he  sat  sullenly  ruminating  in  his  tent,  was 
interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  centurion,  with  information  that  a 
young  Roman  was  outside,  and  wished  much  to  speak  with  him.  Sup- 
posing, as  a  matter  of  course,  that  the  stranger  bore  some  new  message 
from  the  emperor — perhaps  to  countermand  his  recal- — Sergius  desired 
him  at  once  to  be  admitted. 

"  Your  name,  young  man  ?"  said  the  Dacian,  as  a  youth  of  swarthy 
features,  and  with  a  countenance  furrowed  by  care  and  thought,  entered 
his  tent. 

"  Manlius,"  replied  the  stranger.  "  You  depart  to-morrow  for  Rome, 
—is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  It  is  ;  but  why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  Because  I  am  desirous  of  taking  the  opportunity  of  your  escort.  I 
am  an  African  by  birth ;  but  my  family,  of  high  rank  at  Brundisium, 
are  well  known  throughout  Rome ;  and  as  I  have  now  been  some  time 
absent  from  them  with  the  army  in  Caledonia,  they  are  naturally  anxious 
for  my  return.  Have  I  your  consent  to  accompany  you  ?" 

Sergius  gave  no  immediate  reply  to  this  abrupt  request.  He  looked 
at  the  stranger  keenly,  and  not  without  distrust ;  but  being  confronted 
with  an  answering  fixedness  of  expression,  his  scrutiny  relaxed,  and  he 
observed,  "  You  are  wholly  unknown  to  me,  young  man,  and  are  not 
perhaps  aware  that  in  a  wild,  lawless  country  like  this,  where  assassina- 
tions are  so  frequent,  the  greatest  caution  is  necessary." 


1830.]  a  Tale  of  the  Ancient  Britons. 

<f  Oh,  fear  me  not,"  interrupted  Manlius,  with  a  smile,  "  I  am  no 
assassin,  believe  me  ;  but  having  long  since  heard  of  your  great  military 
abilities,  admiration,  as  well  as  a  desire  to  ensure  my  own  safe  escort  to 
Rome,  induces  me  to  make  this  request." 

The  youth  spoke  apparently  with  sincere  emotion ;  and  Sergius, 
influenced  by  that  universal  vanity  which,  when  adroitly  appealed  to, 
reduces  the  sage  and  the  fool,  the  soldier  and  the  statesman,  the  peer 
and  the  peasant,  to  one  common  level ;  attracted  also  by  an  indefinable 
prepossession  in  favour  of  a  youth  whose  whole  bearing,  though  cold 
and  somewhat  stately,  was  yet  fearless,  unassuming,  and  spoke  him  of 
patrician  descent — influenced,  we  repeat,  by  such  feelings,  Sergius 
made  no  further  objection  to  his  request ;  and  long  before  the  small 
detachment  of  troops  which  was  permitted  to  accompany  him  had 
reached  the  place  of  embarkation,  the  stranger  had  established  an  inte- 
rest in  his  heart,  for  which  the  rough,  but  simple-minded  Dacian,  could 
in  no  wise  account. 

Arrived  at  Dover,  Sergius  found  the  gallies  which  had  conveyed  his 
successor  and  suite  to  Britain,  awaiting  to  carry  him  back  to  Rome.  A 
sigh  escaped  him  as  he  resigned  his  credentials  of  office  to  the  new  sub- 
lieutenant; but  when  he  had  entered  his  galley,  and  thence  watched  the 
receding  shores  of  Britain,  which  he  had  once  flattered  himself  would 
have  been  the  sole  boundaries  to  his  conquest,  he  could  scarcely  restrain 
his  tears. 

In  a  short  time,  after  an  unusually  prosperous  voyage,  the  vessels 
entered  the  Tiber.  Sergius  and  his  young  companion  stood  at  the  prow 
of  their  galley,  gazing  with  lively  interest  on  scenes  to  which  their 
protracted  absence  lent  all  the  splendour  of  novelty.  From  the  harbour 
of  Ostia  to  the  immediate  environs  of  the  imperial  city,  every  succeed- 
ing mile  elicited  some  new  object  for  their  admiration.  The  summer 
retreats  of  the  wealthier  patricians,  with  their  costly  marble  terraces,  their 
olive  gardens  and  vineyards  stretching  in  some  places  for  miles  along 
the  river's  bank,  flush  of  blossoms,  musical  with  bees,  and  redolent  of  the 
choicest  perfume,  first  broke  on  the  view,  drenched  in  the  glowing  tints  of 
sun-set.  To  these  succeeded  the  palace  of  the  second  Caesar,  at  the  base 
of  whose  broad  terrace,  against  which  the  Tiber  broke  in  whispers,  the 
imperial  gallies  were  moored,  glittering  with  the  emblasoned  standards 
of  victory,  and  alive  with  the  martial  swell  of  music.  A  fresh  bend  of 
the  river  brought  in  full  view  the  stately  Mausoleum  of  Augustus,  the 
pride  of  the  Campus  Martius,  surmounted  with  an  effigy  of  that  emperor, 
and  fronted  with  Egyptian  obelisks.  Next  rose  the  Fabrician  Bridge, 
where  stood  that  matchless  four-faced  statue  which,  fixing  its  stern  gaze 
on  the  north,  the  south,  the  east,  and  the  west,  seemed  to  imply  that  all 
quarters  of  the  globe  were  alike  subject  to  Roman  supremacy. 

Day  fell  before  the  gallies  reached  the  Aventine  wharfs  j  but  though 
the  mists  stealing  up  from  the  river  were  fast  closing  in  the  view  on  all 
sides,  enough  light  still  remained  to  display  its  unequalled  grandeur. 
In  front  rose  the  Tarpeian  rock,  with  its  dread  exhibition  of  power ;  to 
the  right  in  distance,  the  Sallustian  palace,  its  expansive  market-place, 
its  gardens — the  pride  of  ancient  Rome — and  its  sparkling  fountains, 
with  their  quaintly  tesselated  cupolas  propped  by  Cdrinthian  columns, 
spread  out  in  ample  space  along  the  brow  of  the  Quirinal  Hill ;  nearer 
to  the  left,  the  grand  Temple  of  Jupiter  Stator  towered  in  serene  sub- 


270  The  Arch-Druid :  [SEPT. 

limity,  like  a  guardian  spirit,  above  the  city  ;  while  the  gorgeous  archi- 
tectural landscape  was  bounded  by  the  Augustan  Palace  on  the  Pala- 
tine. Of  all  these  matchless  triumphs  of  art,  what  now  remains  ?  A 
broken  fragment,  and  an  empty  name  !  The  lofty  arch  has  sunk ;  the 
fountain  has  dried  up ;  the  temple  has  mouldered  into  dust ;  the  very 
hill  itself  has  bowed  its  castellated  head.  The  -wonders  of  a  newer  age 
have  succeeded  those  of  Imperial  Rome ;  and  like  those,  too,  having 
stood  their  little  hour,  shall  fade,  drop,  and  pass  away  ! 

On  reaching  the  place  of  their  destination,  Sergius  and  his  companion 
separated.  The  former  now  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  wholly  inactive, 
with  no  excitement  of  any  kind  to  enliven  and  refresh  the  springs  of 
existence,  resigned  himself,  with  scarce  an  effort  to  counteract  its  influ- 
ence, to  ennui.  Of  all  conditions  in  life,  none  is  more  pitiable  than  that 
of  an  unemployed  soldier.  Every  other  profession  brings  with  it  its  own 
peculiar  indestructible  advantages.  The  lawyer — the  divine — the  states- 
man— the  author — the  artist — can  turn,  in  the  decline  of  life  or  for- 
tune, to  those  mental  resources  with  which,  in  some  shape  or  other,  their 
situations  must  necessarily  have  brought  them  acquainted;  but  the  sol- 
dier, whose  years  have  been  spent  in  camps  among  the  bravest,  though, 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  most  unenlightened  of  beings, — whose  high- 
est ambition  has  been  to  act  on  matter,  not  mind, — to  overcome  physical 
obstructions  by  physical,  not  mental  agency,  possesses  no  such  advan- 
tages. Away  from  the  stir  of  the  camp,  he  is  wholly  at  the  mercy  of 
circumstances.  He  drifts  along  the  surface  of  society  like  an  unpiloted 
wreck  on  the  ocean.  He  is  a  useless,  blighted  slip,  torn  off  from  the 
plantation  of  human  kind. 

Such  was  now  the  case  with  Sergius.  Removed  from  the  bustle  of 
the  camp,  he  felt  himself  alone  in  the  world.  He  had  no  relish  for  the 
intellectual  pleasures  which  luxury  and  civilization  engender ;  and 
though  abundantly  endowed  with  animal  courage,  was  wholly  destitute 
of  that  loftier  moral  energy  which  builds  up  a  towering  but  rational  con- 
fidence upon  Self.  There  is  nothing  so  destructive  to  an  active  mind  as 
leisure.  The  rust  eats  into  the  tempered  steel  with  far  less  deadly  effect 
than  idleness  into  the  heart's  core  of  such  a  disposition.  Day  by  day, 
the  ennui  of  Sergius  assumed  a  deeper  shade.  His  disrelish  for  society 
gradually  darkened  into  misanthropy,  and,  what  was  worse  than  this — 
for  to  be  misanthropical  has  at  least  the  advantage  of  nourishing  the 
energies  of  hatred,  and  so  far  of  keeping  up  a  strong  physical  excite- 
ment— settled  finally  down  into  the  abject  freezing  torpor  of  despair. 

Two  tedious  months  had  thus  elapsed,  during  which  he  had  seen 
nothing  of  his  fellow- voyager,  Manlius,  when  one  morning  he  received 
a  visit  from  that  youth,  announcing  that  the  Druids  had  risen  in  a  body 
from  north  to  south  of  Wales.  Manlius  concluded  his  communication 
by  advising  the  Daciaii  to  apply  to  the  emperor  for  permission  to 
check  the  progress  of  the  rebels.  "  My  life  on  it,"  said  he,  warmly, 
"  you  will  succeed ;  I  have  a  friend  high  in  favour  at  court,  who  has 
promised  me  that  he  will  second  your  application  not  only  with  his  own 
influence,  but  also  with  all  that  he  can  exert  with  Messalina." 

The  soldier's  eye  sparkled  at  this  proposition.  He  caught  at  his 
friend's  suggestion  with  ardour,  who  quitted  him  in  a  happier  frame  of 
mind  than  he  had  been  since  they  both  entered  Rome. 

A  prompt  reply  was  given  to  Sergius's  application.     The  emperor 


1830.]  a  Tale  of  the  Ancient  Britons.  271 

even  dispatched  one  of  his  favourite  pages  in  person,  with  a  request  that 
he  would  attend  the  next  morning  at  his  levee — a  request  that  infused 
new  life  into  the  no  less  astonished  than  delighted  Dacian. 

Punctual  to  the  hour  appointed,  he  set  out  for  the  imperial  palace, 
towards  which  a  vast  crowd  were  hastening.  Sergius  moved  onwards 
with  the  rest,  but  on  entering  the  hall  of  audience,  took  his  station 
near  the  door  at  which  the  emperor  was  expected  to  enter.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  was  joined  by  Aulus  Didius,  a  veteran  companion  in  arms, 
with  whom  he  had  made  his  first  campaign  in  Pannonia. 

"  I  can  guess,"  said  the  latter  with  a  smile,  "  what  brings  you  here, 
Sergius.  You  have  heard  of  the  late  rising  of  the  Druids,  and  have 
come  to  volunteer  your  services.  I  trust  you  may  be  successful." 

"  I  have  every  reason  to  hope  so.  I  attend  here  by  order  of  the 
emperor  himself." 

"  I  surmised  as  much.  Claudius,  it  is  well  known,  is  particularly 
sensitive  on  the  subject  of  Britain.  It  is  the  only  object  he  pursues  with 
any  thing  like  animation.  Ever  since  his  own  expedition  into  that  country, 
he  has  fancied  it  wholly  subdued.  His  late  impolitic  truce,  however, 
with  the  Silures,  and  some  neighbouring  tribes,  has  led  them  to  ima- 
gine that  his  resources  are  exhausted ;  their  chiefs  and  Druids  have 
carefully  kept  alive  this  impression  ;  so  that  the  conquest  of  at  least  the 
west  of  Britain  is  again  to  be  achieved." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  a  loud  laugh,  which  pro- 
ceeded from  the  further  end  of  the  hall.  On  turning  his  eyes  in  that 
direction,  Sergius  beheld  a  pale,  slender,  effeminate  young  man,  appa- 
rently between  sixteen  and  seventeen  years  of  age,  busily  engaged  in 
conversation  with  a  group  of  officers.  While  the  rest  of  the  cour- 
tiers conversed  in  an  under  tone,  and  with  a  visible  air  of  restraint,  this 
youth  seemed  wholly  at  his  ease,  jesting  with  the  gay  throng  that  sur- 
rounded him  as  though  he  were  their  acknowledged  lord  and  master. 
His  countenance,  of  a  Grecian  cast,  was  far  from  displeasing  j  and 
there  was  a  mixed  air  of  affectation  and  modesty  in  his  manner  that 
rendered  it  peculiarly,  if  not  amusingly,  striking. 

Sergius  directed  the  eyes  of  his  neighbour  towards  him. 

"  That  is  young  Nero,"  replied  Aulus,  "  the  adopted  son  of  Claudius. 
He  is  a  vain,  dissipated,  chicken-hearted  youth,  fond  of  music,  poetry, 
dancing,  horse-racing,  and  so  forth.  I  know  no  other  harm  of  him  as  yet. 
Time,  however,  may  effect  great  changes  with  him,  as  with  all  others, 
for  the  worse." 

While  he  yet  spoke,  shouts  were  heard  outside  the  palace;  and 
presently  the  emperor  entered  the  hall  of  audience,  magnificently  attired 
in  the  royal  purple,  and  preceded  and  followed  by  a  splendid  train  of 
the  Praetorian  guards.  The  appearance  of  this  prince  was  far  from 
unimpressive.  He  seemed  about  fifty  years  of  age,  was  of  the  average 
height  in  point  of  stature,  though  his  stately  carriage  gave  him  the  ap- 
pearance of  being  taller  than  he  really  was.  The  general  expression 
of  his  countenance  was  mildness  and  dignity :  the  upper  part,  especially 
the  high  and  ample  fortaead,  gave  evidence  of  superior  intellect ;  but 
the  lower  half  was  of  a  more  questionable  character.  The  mouth 
expressed  indecision  and  feebleness,  and  the  thick  lip  and  round  full 
chin  betrayed  the  animal  passions  of  the  voluptuary.  At  times,  when 
he  spoke  on  any  subject  that  interested  him,  his  head  would  shake 
as  if  affected  with  palsy,  and  a  slight  foam — the  consequence,  it  was 


272  The  Arch-Druid :  [SEPT. 

said,  of  poison  which  had  been  administered  to  him  in  youth — would 
cover  his  lips,  and  give  a  lisping  hesitation  to  his  utterance. 

On  entering  the  audience  hall,  the  first  person  that  met  his  eye  was 
Sergius,  whom  he  instantly  beckoned  to  stand  forward.  As  the  Dacian 
approached, — "  You  have  been  strongly  recommended  to  my  notice," 
said  Claudius,  "  as  a  general  who,  from  past  experience,  is  every  way 
qualified  to  keep  up  the  terror  of  the  Roman  arms  in  Britain." 

Sergius  bowed  low,  in  acknowledgment  of  this  flattering  exordium. 

"  Your  departure,"  continued  the  emperor,  "  must  take  place  within 
the  week.  I  have  already  recalled  some  of  my  best  troops  from  the 
provinces,  for  the  purpose  of  striking  one  decisive  blow,  and  annihilating, 
if  possible,  the  very  name  of  the  audacious  rebels. — Clemency/'  he 
added,  in  an  altered*  tone  that  made  the  courtiers  tremble,  "  is  clearly 
of  no  avail.  I  tried  it  myself  when  in  Britain  ;  and  what  has  been  the 
result  ?  The  Silures,  the  Ordovices,  and  I  know  not  how  many  other 
tribes,  are  again  in  arms.  You  should  know  something  of  these  barba- 
rians ;  they  have  occasioned  you  no  little  annoyance,  I  hear/' 

"  They  have,"  said  Sergius ;  "  but  to  the  troops  of  Britannicus  they 
cannot  fail  to  be  an  easy  prey/' 

This  well-timed  allusion  to  an  appellation  which  Claudius  valued 
even  above  the  imperial  title,  served  to  give  him  no  little  satisfaction. 
His  reply  was  prompt  and  flattering. 

-  ft  You  say  true,  Sergius  :  the  troops  of  Britannicus" — and  he  looked 
proudly  round  the  hall,  "  are,  as  I  myself  can  attest,  invincible.  Under 
your  guidance,  they  shall  reap  fresh  laurels,  and  you  must  finish  what 
Claudius  Britannicus  has  begun.  The  armament  will  be  ready  in  a  few 
days,  when  you  will  receive  my  final  commands.  At  present,  you  may 
retire/' 

With  a  respectful  obeisance,  Sergius  quitted  the  imperial  presence, 
but  had  not  reached  the  outer  palace  gates  when  the  comptroller  of  the 
household  hastened  after  him,  with  a  request  from  Claudius,  conveyed 
in  the  most  flattering  terms,  that  he  would  attend  a  grand  banquet, 
which,  under  the  auspices  of  Messalina,  was  to  be  held  that  same  even- 
ing  in  the  palace. 

The  fortunes  of  the  Dacian  soldier  seemed  now  at  their  full  flood.  He 
had  obtained  all,  and  even  more,  than  he  could  have  anticipated ;  and 
when,  on  rejoining  the  gay  throng  of  courtiers  in  the  evening,  he  found 
himself  the  observed  of  all  eyes — for  the  conquest  of  Britain  was  at  this 
period  as  popular  among  the  Romans  as  with  the  court — his  triumph 
was  complete. 

Among  the  number  of  those  who  advanced  to  congratulate  him  on  his 
appointment,  was  Vitellius  (afterwards  emperor),  who  had  recently 
distinguished  himself  in  Germany.  This  adventurer,  the  son  of  a  cob- 
bler, had  raised  himself  step  by  step  to  eminence  by  adroit  flattery  of 
his  superiors,  and  subsequently  by  pandering  to  the  caprices  of  Messa- 
lina and  her  imperial  spouse.  He  was  now  of  middle  age ;  of  an  easy, 
social  turn ;  devoted  to  the  fair  sex ;  and,  above  all,  renowned  through- 
out Rome,  for  his  superlative  epicurism.  After  complimenting  Sergius 
on  his  good  fortune, — "  I  am  probably,"  said  he,  "  the  only  one  in  this 
place  who  does  not  detest  you  for  your  success.  But  my  ambition  is 
luckily  of  a  more  pacific  character.  I  had  rather  be  the  inventor  of  a 
new  sauce  than  the  ruler  of  half  the  world.  Lucullus  is  my  model  of  a 
hero:  he  could  feast  as  well  as  fight.  Were  you  ever  in  Germany  ?" 


1830.]  a  Tale  of  the  Ancient  Britons.  273 

"  For  a  short  time  only,"  replied  Sergius. 

((  Then  you  can  sympathize  with  all  that  I  must  have  suffered  during 
my  campaign  in  that  villainous  spot  of  earth.  The  barbarians  had  not 
the  slightest  notion  of  what  was  due  to  the  refined  feelings  of  a  Roman 
warrior.  They  never  would  allow  me  to  have  a  single  meal  in  peace, 
but  perpetually  attacked  me  at  dinner-time.  I  cannot  take  it  on  my  con- 
science to  say  that  I  had  more  than  two  good  days'  feasting  during  the 
whole  campaign.  For  one  week  I  lived  on  nothing  but  horse-beans, 
washed  down  (would  you  believe  it?)  with  ditch-water.  Then  with 

regard  to  sleeping But  I  see  you  are  affected :  I  only  hope  you 

may  be  better  off  in  Britain/' 

"  On  this  point  I  feel  little  uneasiness.  Glory  is  the  only  food  of 
which  I  ask  my  fill." 

"  Glory !"  rejoined  Vitellius,  with  a  sneer — tempered,  however,  by  a 
most  courteous  inclination  of  the  head — "  it  is  a  species  of  nourishment 
that  never  agreed  with  my  digestion.  Translated  into  the  vernacular, 
I  conceive  it  to  mean  horse-beans  and  ditch-water.  But  see !  the 
empress  is  at  hand.  We  must  stand  aside  awhile/' 

At  this  instant  a  flourish  of  trumpets  was  heard,  the  palace-doors 
flew  open,  and  Messalina,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Claudius,  and  accom- 
panied by  some  five  or  six  ladies  of  the  court,  passed  up  the  centre  of 
the  hall.  After  the  imperial  pair  had  seated  themselves,  the  due  liba- 
tions were  offered  up  to  the  household  gods,  and  the  business  of  the 
banquet  commenced.  The  coup-d'ceil,  at  this  instant,  was  singularly 
impressive.  The  vast  range  of  the  grandest  hall  in  Rome  was  filled — 
though  the  day  had  not  yet  gone  down — with  a  flood  of  light,  poured 
forth  from  the  golden  candelabras  that  lavishly  decorated  every  maple- 
wood  and  ivory-inlaid  table ;  the  soft,  luxurious  couches,  along  which 
the  patrician  guests  reclined,  their  brows  crowned  with  chaplets  of  roses 
and  myrtle,  were  of  costly  Tyrian  dye ;  while  the  rounded  pillars  of 
unsullied  marble  that  extended  on  either  side  the  entire  length  of  the 
hall,  at  whose  further  end,  fronting  the  imperial  throne,  were  stationed 
the  statues  of  the  higher  divinities — the  stupendous  porphyry  and  ala- 
baster vases,  filled  with  the  most  fragrant  oriental  perfumes — the  quaint 
but  superb  costume  of  the  musicians — the  glittering  military  accoutre- 
ments of  the  household  troops — the  snow-white  tunics  of  the  pages — 
the  spangled  dresses  of  the  masquers — the  drapery  of  the  long  purple 
hangings  that  wound  serpent-like  round  the  columns,  contrasting  for- 
cibly with  the  stainless  snow  of  their  marble  —  and,  above  all,  the 
appearance  of  the  imperial  banners  that  hung  suspended  from  the 
ivory-wrought  ceiling,  inflaming  the  imagination  of  the  spectators  with 
a  thousand  glorious  recollections; — these  various,  picturesque,  and  impos- 
ing objects  gave  to  the  whole  scene  a  harmony — a  completeness — an 
elaborate  and  unparalleled  magnificence.  The  banquet  was  equally 
imposing.  The  dishes  were,  for  the  most  part,  of  virgin  gold ;  and 
the  goblets  out  of  which  the  guests  quaffed  their  Chian,  Falernian,  and 
Massic  wines,  sparkled  with  a  constellation  of  gems.  Among  the  chief 
dainties,  were  the  tongues  of  those  precious  birds,  phaenicopters,  the 
brains  of  pheasants  and  peacocks,  diluted  with  rare  aromatic  sauces, 
in  a  style  worthy  of  Lucullus,  rows  of  lampreys- — together  with  a  select 
variety  of  other  delicacies,  for  which  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar — renowned 
throughout  Rome  for  the  unrivalled  flavour  of  their  scari — and  the 
shores  of  the  Carpathian  sea,  had  been  diligently  ransacked. 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  57.  2  M 


274  The  Arch-Druid :  [SEPT. 

At  the  close  of  the  banquet,  the  flavour  of  whose  viands— so  Vitellius 
assured  the  Dacian,  who  reclined  on  the  same  couch  beside  him — would 
linger  for  weeks  on  his  palate,  a  band  of  female  dancers  entered  the  hall, 
and,  at  a  given  signal  from  the  empress,  went  through  a  series  of  move- 
ments, which,  set  off  by  the  arch  seductive  beauty  of  the  fair  figurantes, 
•who  were  mostly  young  girls  from  Lesbos, — by  their  flashing  eyes, 
instinct  with  fire  and  passion ;  their  snowy,  swan-like  necks ;  their 
sunny,  chestnut  tresses,  soft  as  silk,  and  luxuriant  as  the  clustering  ten- 
drils of  the  vine  ;  the  quick,  airy  glancings  of  their  taper  feet  and  ankles; 
and,  more  than  all,  by  the  slight  undulating  garments,  which,  revealing 
the  exquisite  outline  of  their  figures,  gave  a  partial  glimpse  also  of  the 
more  mysterious  charms  they  were  meant  to  hide  ; — the  movements  of 
these  Lesbian  Circes,  thus  variously  embellished,  thrilled  the  souls  of 
all  who  gazed  on  them  with  that  voluptuous  sensibility  which  sometimes 
overflows  the  spirit  in  the  hour  of  dreams. 

Sergius  himself  caught  the  contagion  of  the  scene,  and  for  awhile,  like 
Hercules  in  the  presence  of  Omphale,  foreswore  his  hopes  of  glory.  A 
moment  served  to  dispel  the  illusion.  On  casting  his  eyes  towards  the 
throne  where  the  empress  sat,  he  suddenly  encountered  a  face  which  at 
once  riveted  his  gaze.  The  countenance  was  that  of  a  female.  It  was 
pale  as  death, — of  a  stern,  commanding,  but  melancholy  expression.  The 
brow  was  lofty,  and  full  of  intelligence  ;  the  lip  curled,  as  if  in  scorn  ; 
and  the  fixed  dark  eye,  as  it  fell  with  strangely  malignant  meaning  on 
the  astonished  Dacian,  awoke  in  his  breast  certain  recollections  for 
which  he  could  not  at  the  moment  account.  In  vain  he  strove  to  avert 
his  gaze.  The  stranger's  eye  was  on  him  like  a  spell.  Bursting  at 
length  with  desperate  effort  from  the  malign  talisman, — <c  Who,  in  the 
name  of  Mars/'  said  he  to  Vitellius,  "  is  that  woman  ?  I  have  surely 

seen  her  before ;  where,  I  cannot  just  now Ah  !  it  is  Cartismandua. 

What  does  she  here  ?     Tell  me,  Vitellius — you,  who  know  every  one 
about  the  court." 

The  epicure  turned  his  eyes  in  the  direction  which  Sergius  pointed  out. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  the  Queen  of  the  Silures,"  was  the  reply,  "  who,  as  I 
am  informed,  came  over  here  a  few  weeks  since  from  Britain.  Her  tale 
is  somewhat  singular.  In  early  life  she  was  sent  to  Rome  for  her  educa- 
tion, where  she  contrived  to  gain  the  good  opinion  of  Messalina,  whom 
in  her  stern  impassioned  turn  of  mind  she  not  a  little  resembles.  She 
remained  here  about  three  years,  and  on  her  return  to  Britain  mar- 
ried a  prince  of  the  Silures  (by-the-by,  you  should  know  more  about 
this  barbarian  than  I  can  tell  you),  whose  tribes,  by  their  active 
system  of  warfare,  occasioned  Claudius  much  annoyance,  when  he 
personally  headed  an  expedition  against  the  western  provinces.  Still, 
notwithstanding  her  husband's  hostility,  Cartismandua,  as  you  perceive, 
has  contrived  to  preserve  her  favour  with  the  empress  and  the  court." 

"  But  surely  Claudius  must  be  aware,  even  from  the  official  accounts 
that  I  myself  transmitted  to  him,  that  this  very  woman  was  for  a 
time  one  of  the  chief  obstacles  to  the  success  of  the  Roman  arms  V 

"  The  emperor  knows  nothing,  and  I  believe  cares  as  little,  about 
Cartismandua,  but  that  she  is  a  very  fine  woman,  and  a  favourite  with 
Messalina,  who,  whether  rightly  or  otherwise,  has  led  him  to  believe 
that  the  fair  barbarian  is  a  friend  to  the  Romans.  Indeed,  Cartisman- 
dua herself  has  renounced  the  throne  of  the  Silures,  confessed  allegiance 
to  the  emperor,  and  publicly  declared  that  she  is  wholly  averse  to  the 
late  insurrection  of  her  subjects." 


1830.]  a  Tale  of  the  Ancient  Britons.  275 

Sergius  shook  his  head  distrustingly.  "  What,  when  her  husband  has 
already  escaped  our  clutches,  and  is  probably  the  very  life  of  this  rebel- 
lion ?  Strange  infatuation  !  Thank  Heaven,  I  am  no  courtier  ;  my 
heart  would  be  ever  on  my  lips." 

"  You  doubt  this  heroine's  sincerity,"  whispered  Vitellius ;  "  perhaps 
you  are  not  the  only  one  here  who  feels  the  same  distrust.  Cartismandua, 
from  all  I  have  been  able  to  glean  respecting  her  character,  was  always 
famous  for  her  powers  of  intrigue.  She  is  here,  I  suspect,  less  as  a 
friend  of  Messalina  than  as  a  spy  of  the  Silures.  But  time  will  shew. 
At  court,  one  should  hear  all,  and  say  nothing ;" — with  which  words,  the 
majority  of  the  guests — the  emperor  and  empress  at  their  head — having 
by  this  time  taken  their  departure,  the  two  adventurers  drank  their  part- 
ing cup  in  honour  of  Mercury,  and  retired  to  their  separate  abodes. 
Vitellius  quitted  the  palace  at  once  ;  but  Sergius  lingered  behind,  striv- 
ing, as  with  rapid  and  vacillating  footsteps  he  paced  up  and  down  the 
deserted  hall,  to  account  for  the  strange  appearance  of  Cartismandua. 
Vain,  however,  were  his  endeavours;  for  the  more  he  attempted  to 
fathom  it,  the  deeper  became  the  mystery.  An  hour  had  thus  passed 
away,  when  finding  all  his  labour  fruitless,  he  left  the  hall,  trusting  to 
the  chapter  of  accidents  to  clear  up  all  that  now  appeared  inexplicable. 

Just  as  he  reached  the  outer  vestibule,  a  cry,  as  from  some  person: 
whose  voice  was  stifled,  struck  on  his  ear.  He  listened.  The  sound 
was  repeated:  it  proceeded  evidently  from  one  in  agony.  While 
hesitating  whether  or  not  to  rush  to  the  sufferer's  assistance,  a  groan, 
deeper  and  louder  than  the  .former,  decided  him ;  and  he  passed 
swiftly  but  silently  down  a  long  winding  passage,  in  the  direction 
whence  the  noise  issued.  At  the  extremity  of  this  passage  was  a 
spacious  bed-chamber,  the  door  of  which  stood  ajar.  Sergius  here  made 
a  halt,  and,  after  looking  cautiously  round  to  satisfy  himself  that  he  was 
unwatched,  pushed  the  door  a  little  aside,  and  peeped  in.  What  a 
spectacle  presented  itself  to  his  gaze !  Stretched  at  full  length  on  the 
bed,  his  hands  clenched,  his  mouth  drawn  down,  his  eyes  staring  wildly 
in  the  last  agonies  of  convulsion,  lay  the  Emperor  Claudius — him  whom 
Sergius,  but  a  few  short  hours  before,  had  seen  presiding  at  the  ban- 
quet in  all  the  flush  of  health,  and  all  the  pride  of  regal  magnificence. 
On  one  side  of  him  stood  Messalina,  pale — ghastly — horror-stricken — 
but  with  the  glare  of  a  demon  in  her  eye;  and  on  the  other,  a  yellow, 
shrivelled  old  woman,  who  held  a  vial  in  her  left  hand,  while  with  the 
right  she  clutched  the  dead  emperor  with  a  tiger-like  ferocity  by  the 
throat.  Transfixed  by  this  horrid  vision,  Sergius  wholly  lost  his  self- 
control.  Though  a  soldier,  he  was  no  murderer ;  and  there  was  a  some- 
thing in  the  malignant,  the  fiendish  aspect  of  the  two  wretches  before 
him  that  made  his  very  flesh  creep. 

Scarcely  knowing  what  he  was  about,  he  stood  motionless  as  a  statue. 
Presently,  he  heard  footseps  advancing  towards  him.  Nearer  they  came 
— nearer — nearer  still — and  already  they  were  within  a  yard  of  the 
door.  An  instant, — it  was  flung  wide  open,  and  the  intruder  detected ! 
Messalina  was  the  first  to  make  the  discovery.  Her  countenance 
blazed  with  uncontrollable  passion.  After  a  pause,  during  which 
each  fixed  an  anxious  gaze  on  the  other,  "  Hah !  hah !"  she  said, 
with  a  frantic  laugh,  "  you  have,  then,  found  out  that  I  am  a  murderess  ! 
True,  I  am  the  assassin  of  that  thing  which  rots  before  you.  I  glory 
in  the  deed.  He  stood  between  me  and  my  gratification  ;  he  even  medi- 

2  M  2 


276  The  Arch-Druid:  [SEPT. 

tated  my  disgrace.  Behold  my  revenge !" — and  she  pointed  sneer- 
ingly  towards  the  body,  which  her  attendant,  Locusta,  was  busy  cover- 
ing up. — "  To  you,  however,"  she  added,  addressing  Sergius,  with  a 
softness  of  manner  still  more  frightful  than  her  violence,  ff  I  mean  no 
harm  :  be  silent,  and  you  are  safe.  To-morrow,  Nero  will  be  proclaimed 
emperor ;  and  on  your  discretion  depends  whether  you  are  still  to  head 
the  expedition  to  Britain.  Away  !" — and  she  waved  him  backward  with 
her  arm. 

The  Dacian  obeyed  without  a  word.  Though  he  .felt  pity  for  his 
benefactor,  and  the  utmost  indignation  towards  his  assassins,  yet,  after 
the  first  shock  had  subsided,  self-interest  resumed  the  mastery,  his 
better  feelings  were  extinguished  by  his  ambition,  and  having  by  this 
time  wholly  recovered  his  presence  of  mind,  he  quitted  the  scene  of 
guilt,  resolved  as  soon  as  possible  to  blot  out  from  his  recollection  the 
atrocious  crime  of  which  he  had  been  the  unwilling  eye-witness. 

The  next  day — it  having  been  publicly  announced  that  Claudius  had 
died  of  a  fit  brought  on  by  excess — Nero  was  proclaimed  emperor  ;  and 
in  less  than  a  fortnight  afterwards,  the  army  intended  for  the  invasion  of 
Britain  was  ready  to  depart.  On  the  morning  of  the  day  appointed  for 
sailing,  an  august  sacrifice  was  offered  up  in  the  Temple  of  Mars,  at  which 
both  Nero  and  Messalina,  whose  religious  zeal  was  just  then  notorious,  pre- 
sided in  person.  This  duty  fulfilled,  the  troops,  to  the  number  of  sixty 
thousand,  embarked  on  board  a  squadron  of  fast  sailing  gallies.  Sergius, 
whom  at  his  earnest  intercession  Manlius  accompanied,  was  among  the 
last  who  quitted  the  shore.  He  had  remained  behind  to  receive  the 
final  commands  of  the  court,  and  having  bid  adieu  to  his  friends,  was 
just  entering  his  galley,  when  his  arm  was  suddenly  grasped  by  a  sooth- 
sayer, who,  stepping  forth  from  the  crowd,  whispered  in  his  ear, 
"  Remember  the  Ides  of  May  I"  Before  the  Dacian  could  reply  to  this 
mysterious  warning,  the  augur  had  vanished ;  and  Manlius,  impatient 
of  further  delay,  hurried  his  commander  on  board.  The  next  minute, 
the  sound  of  a  trumpet  announced  that  all  was  ready.  The  signal  was 
made  for  sailing — the  rowers  took  their  stations — the  huge  sails  were 
unfurled — and  slowly  the  majestic  pageant  bore  down  the  Tiber,  'mid 
the  cheers  of  thousands  who  thronged  the  water's  edge. 

While  the  Roman  reinforcements  were  thus  shaping  their  course 
towards  Britain,  the  Druids  were  not  inactive.  Having  freed  South 
Wales,  at  least  for  the  time  being,  they  resolved  so  to  consolidate 
their  energies  as  to  render  difficult,  if  not  impracticable,  all  further 
attempts  at  invasion  on  the  part  of  the  Romans.  With  this  view, 
they  drew  troops  together  from  all  quarters  of  Wales,  strengthened 
every  defenceless  outpost,  and  established  a  strict  line  of  communica- 
tion from  north  to  south  of  the  neighbouring  provinces.  In  all  this, 
their  Arch-Druid,  a  warrior  of  surprising  energies  of  mind,  was  their 
leader.  His  ingenuity  supplied  them  with  resources ;  his  eloquence 
inflamed,  his  perseverance  kept  alive  their  enthusiasm.  By  means  of 
spies  selected  for  the  occasion,  he  obtained  early  and  authentic  intelli- 
gence respecting  the  movements  of  the  Romans,  the  numbers  of  their 
troops,  the  name  and  qualifications  of  their  general,  the  place  and  even 
the  period  of  their  landing ;  so  that  when,  after  a  forced  march  through 
the  west  of  Britain,  Sergius  once  again  encamped  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  Black  Mountains,  he  found  himself  opposed  to  an  enemy  whose 
vigilance  was  unremitting,  and  whose  resources,  husbanded  with  extreme 


1830.]  a  Talc  of  the  Ancient  Britons.  277 

care,  presented  a  more  formidable  obstacle  than  ever  to  the  progre9s  of 
the  Roman  arms. 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  a  long  summer  evening  in  May,  that  the 
united  forces  of  the  Silures,  the  Ordovices,  and  some  neighbouring  tribes, 
under  the  command  of  the  Arch-Druid,  assembled  to  the  number  of 
between  sixty  and  seventy  thousand  in  the  recesses  of  one  of  those  thick 
forests  with  which  Carmarthenshire  was  formerly  over-run.  Aware  that 
the  decisive  moment  of  his  country's  destiny  was  at  hand,  the  supreme 
pontiff  resolved  to  take  this,  perhaps,  his  last  opportunity,  of  solemnly 
appealing  to  the  patriotic  feelings  of  his  countrymen.  Accordingly, 
all  the  different  sects  of  the  Druids  were  brought  together  from  the 
remotest  quarters  of  Wales,  and,  at  this  particular  juncture  of  our  tale, 
stood  silent  at  their  respective  posts,  awaiting  only  the  departure  of  day 
to  commence  their  solemn  sacrifice  in  honour  of  Hesus,  their  god 
of  war. 

The  spot  where  they  were  assembled  was  an  open  space,  hemmed  in 
on  every  side  by  thick  plantations  of  the  sacred  oak.  In  the  centre  was 
an  enclosure,  the  sides  of  which  were  formed  by  large  broad  pillars  of 
unhewn  stone,  arranged  in  a  circular  form,  left  open  at  the  top,  and 
with  a  considerable  space  between  each.  In  the  middle  of  the  area  thus 
formed,  stood  the  cromlech,  or  altar,  consisting  of  four  wide  stones,  one 
of  which  was  placed  in  a  sloping  direction  over  the  others,  which  were 
disposed  edgewise,  and  profusely  strewed  with  oak-leaves.  At  a  dis- 
tance round  the  altar,  stood  in  trembling  reverence  the  silent  troops  of 
the  Silures,  filling  up  the  plain  with  their  numbers;  and  nearer,  the 
different  sects  of  the  Druids,  the  Bards,  the  Eubates,  and  the  nobler 
order  of  Druidesses.  Within,  arrayed  in  a  white  robe  of  serge,  which 
flowed  down  to  his  ankles,  stood  the  Arch-Druid  himself,  with  a  green 

flass  amulet  suspended  round  his  neck  by  a  silver  chain,  a  wand  in  his 
and,  and  two  milk-white  bulls,  their  horns  wreathed  with  the  hallowed 
misletoe,  beside  him.  While  a  vestige  of  light  yet  lingered  in  the  west, 
he  stood  silent,  and  apparently  absorbed  in  prayer ;  but  no  sooner  had 
the  shades  of  night  fallen,  than  he  summoned  his  attendant  priests  ;  and 
instantly,  as  if  by  magic,  a  thousand  torches  flashed  through  the  dark- 
ness of  the  forest.  The  ceremonies  of  the  oblation  then  commenced. 
The  steers  were  offered  up  to  Hesus,  and  as  their  blood  flowed 
round  the  cromlech,  the  Bards  chaunted  their  hymns  j  after  which, 
the  vast  multitude  drew  in  a  closer  circle  round  the  outer  temple, 
from  the  highest  point  of  which  the  Arch-Druid  addressed  them 
on  the  mysteries  of  their  religion — on  the  sacred  public  duties  they 
would  ere  long  be  summoned  to  perform— and  on  the  eternal  bliss 
that  awaited  them  hereafter,  should  those  duties  be  fulfilled  in  a  worthy 
spirit.  Death,  he  assured  them,  was  but  a  partial  change  of  the  human 
frame,  which  would  be  for  the  better  or  the  worse,  according  to  each 
individual's  deserts.  Nothing  perished— nothing  became  extinct.  An 
inherent  principle  of  vitality  pervaded  the  material  universe.  The  soul, 
after  it  quitted  its  fleshly  tabernacle,  transmigrated  into  other  bodies. 
The  spirit  of  the  patriot  roamed  the  desart  in  the  majestic  similitude  of 
the  free-born  lion ;  or  as  the  eagle,  whose  gaze  can  pierce  the  sun,  tra- 
versed the  regions  of  air,  exulting  in  the  consciousness  of  strength,  and 
light,  and  liberty.  In  the  fulness  of  years,  such  transmigrations  ceased  • 
and  the  immortal  soul,  its  task  on  earth  fulfilled,  mounted  on  seraphs' 
wings  to  heaven. 


278  The  Arch-Druid :  [SEPT. 

Scarcely  had  the  Arch-Druid  ceased,  when  a  murmur  arose  at  the 
further  end  of  the  assembly,  the  clash  of  arms  was  heard,  and  presently 
a  spy  burst  through  the  throng,  and  after  conversing  apart  for  a  few 
minutes  with  the  Arch-Druid,  announced  to  those  round  the  cromlech 
that  the  Roman  army  was  already  encamped  within  four  miles  of  the 
forest,  and  then  disappeared  as  suddenly  as  he  had  arrived. 

This  intelligence  seemed  to  take  all  parties  by  surprise ;  but  aware  that 
no  time  was  to  be  lost,  the  Druids  threw  themselves  into  the  body  of  their 
countrymen,  whom  by  look,  gesture,  and  declamation,  they  excited  to 
the  highest  enthusiasm.  As  these  priestly  warriors  moved  to  and  fro 
among  their  respective  tribes,  their  appearance,  heightened  by  the  glare 
of  the  torches,  which  fell  with  a  sort  of  spectral  radiance  on  their  wild 
and  picturesque  apparel,  seemed  more  than  mortal.  The  scene,  too — 
and  the  hour — and  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  vast  patriarchal  forest, 
which  was  broken  only  at  intervals  by  the  savage  yells  of  the  Britons, 
confirmed  the  spell  of  their  influence ;  and  long  before  day-break,  they 
had  arranged  their  plans,  broken  up  their  encampment,  and  the  majo- 
rity of  them  set  forth,  each  at  the  head  of  his  tribe,  in  the  direction  of 
the  Roman  army. 

This  last,  on  their  parts,  were  equally  desirous  of  bringing  on  a  gene- 
ral engagement.  Aware  that  the  Britons  were  assembled  in  vast  num- 
bers on  the  frontiers  of  the  province,  flushed  with  their  late  successes, 
and  confident  of  future  triumphs,  Sergius  determined  to  await  their 
approach  without  the  forest,  well  knowing  that  to  attempt  to  penetrate 
its  recesses  would  almost  ensure  his  destruction.  Accordingly,  at  the 
very  hour  when  the  Druids  were  busy  offering  up  their  sacrifices,  he 
commanded  his  troops  to  halt ;  and  having  seen  his  directions  scrupu- 
lously fulfilled,  the  camp  pitched  at  the  outskirts  of  the  broad  plain  of 
Carrick-Sawthy,  and  the  requisite  preparations  made  for  the  morrow's 
engagement,  he  retired  alone  to  his  tent. 

It  was  a  calm  night,  the  air  was  light  and  pleasant,  and  as  Sergius  sat 
looking  out  towards  the  gloomy  ridges  of  the  Black  Mountains,  and  the 
Towy,  which,  tinselled  by  the  star-light,  wound  like  a  silver  thread 
round  the  meadows  at  their  base,  he  recognised  the  identical  spot 
where,  but  a  short  time  before,  he  had  seen  Caradoc  and  Cartismancjua 
brought  captives  to  his  tent.  This  recollection  induced  a  train  of  no 
very  agreeable  reflections.  The  uncertainty,  too,  which  involved  the 
fate  of  the  British  prince,  combined  with  the  circumstance  of 
Sergius' s  mysterious  rencontre  with  Cartismandua  at  Rome,  deepened 
his  pensive  vein ;  and  he  felt  assured  that  while  two  such  plotting 
agents  survived,  his  conquest  of  the  Silures  would  be  a  task  of  no  ordi- 
nary difficulty. 

To  escape  these  intrusive  ideas,  the  soldier  quitted  his  tent,  and  moved 
towards  an  adjacent  eminence,  whence  he  could  command  a  view  of  his 
whole  encampment.  All  there  lay  tranced  in  death-like  slumber.  The 
watch-fires  were  burnt  out;  the  unruffled  standards  drooped  beside 
the  tents,  and  not  a  sound  could  be  heard,  but  the  measured  tread  of 
the  sentinel,  as  he  paced  to  and  fro  along  his  post.  After  satisfying 
himself  that  the  outposts  were  properly  secured,  Sergius  returned  to 
his  tent,  but  had  scarcely  laid  himself  down  to  sleep  when  a  slight 
rustling  was  heard  without ;  the  curtains  were  withdrawn,  and  Manlius 
stood  before  him.  There  was  an  air  of  mingled  sadness  and  determination 
in  his  aspect  that  at  once  fixed  the  Dacian's  notice. 


1830.]  a  Tale  of  the  Ancient  Britons.  279 

"  Hah,  Manlius/'  he  said,  "  whence  come  you  ?  This  is  no  time  for 
visiting.  I  concluded  you  were  asleep  hours  since." 

"  I  have  just  left  the  British  outposts/'  was  the  youth's  reply,  "  who, 
deceived  by  my  dress  and  manner,  mistook  me  for  one  of  their  own  spies. 
Hence  I  had  a  brief  opportunity  of  glancing  at  their  forces,  which, 
though  strong  in  point  of  numbers,  seem  undisciplined  and  full  of 
apprehension/' 

"  Noble  youth !"  rejoined  Sergius,  "  your  daring  does  you  infinite 
credit,  and  shall  not  be  forgotten  in  my  next  dispatches  to  the  em- 
peror." 

Manlius  bowed  low,  and  made  answer,  "  Your  next  dispatches,  Gene- 
ral !  Have  you  then  forgotten  the  warning  voice  of  the  augur, — '  Re- 
member the  Ides  of  May  ?'  To-morrow  is  the  first  of  the  Ides.  How, 
then,  do  you  know  that  the  next  dispatches  may  not  be  written  of, 
instead  of  by,  you  ?  But  perhaps  you  are  not  superstitious ;  perhaps 
you  have  no  presentiment  of  misfortune  ?" 

Like  an  adder's  hiss,  these  few  words,  spoken  in  a  tone  barely  above 
a  whisper,  rung  in  the  Dacian's  ear.  He  regarded  the  speaker  with  a 
look  that  seemed  to  imply,  "  You  know  more  than  you  feel  inclined  to 
confess  regarding  the  secret  of  my  destiny;"  but  being  answered  with  a 
gaze  bold  in  conscious  innocence,  he  faltered  out,  "  You  are  a  strange 
youth,  Manlius  ;  I  hardly  know  what  to  make  of  you.  My  good  offices 
you  reject,  as  if  they  were  beneath  consideration  ;  promotion  seems  not 
your  object,  nor  civil  nor  military  renown ;  yet,  though  you  neither 
court  my  confidence  nor  solicit  my  affection,  you  appear  desirous  of 
laying  me  under  perpetual  obligations  to  you.  Say,  whence  this  strange 
contradiction  of  character  ?" 

((  I  am  the  son  of  a  Numidian  chief,"  rejoined  Manlius,  with  a 
laugh ;  "  and  inconsistency  in  act  and  deed  is,  as  you  ought  by 
this  time  to  have  known,  the  main  feature  in  the  character  of  an 
African.  I  profess  neither  to  be  better  nor  wiser  than  the  rest  of  my 
tribe,  though  a  long  acquaintance  with  Roman  manners  ought  perhaps 
to  have  sobered  down,  if  not  eradicated,  the  defects  of  nature." 

"  Well,  well,"  interrupted  the  Dacian  quickly,  but  not  with  ill- 
nature,  "  I  seek  not  to  know  more  about  you,  than  you  yourself 
choose  to  communicate.  You  are  a  moody,  petulant  youth — crazed, 
probably,  for  love  of  some  Brundisian  fair  one.  Is  it  not  so  ?  Ah  !  I 

see  the  question  has  stirred  you ;  so  I  will  not  further  distress  your 

But,  hark  !  the  sentinels  are  changing  their  posts.  You  had  better  now 
retire,  and  snatch  a  few  hours'  sleep,  else  to-morrow's  exertions  will 
make  sad  inroads  on  your  sickly  frame." 

At  this  instant,  the  shrill  tones  of  the  trumpet  announced  the  last 
change  of  the  watch.  The  youth  caught  at  the  sound,  and  wrapping 
his  cloak  round  him,  bade  Sergius  a  hurried  adieu,  and  retired  to  his 
own  quarters. 

Left  rmce  more  alone,  the  Dacian,  after  vainly  endeavouring  to  sleep, 
sunk  again  into  one  of  those  fits  of  despondency  which  as  often  pre- 
cede as  follow  periods  of  excitement.  It  was  not  that  he  doubted  the 
issue  of  the  morrow's  engagement.  Far  from  it.  His  fantastic  young 
protege's  communication  had  convinced  him  that  he  had  little  to  appre- 
hend from  the  raw,  undisciplined  barbarians.  Still  less  did  he  fear  for 
himself.  In  animal  courage,  at  least,  he  was  a  true  Roman  warrior.  What, 
then,  occasioned  his  depression  ?  It  was  the  augur's  mysterious  pre- 


280  The  Arch-Druid :  [SEPT. 

diction  respecting  the  Ides  of  May — that  prediction,  against  which  cou- 
rage and  discipline,  and  skill  and  experience,  were  alike  incompetent 
to  defend  him.  In  vain  he  strove  to  shake  off  the  gloom  with  which 
this  reflection  inspired  him.  The  very  hour  served  to  enhance  it.  What 
is  there  in  the  sabbath  stillness  of  midnight  that  should  thus  fling  a  yet 
deeper  shade  over  the  brow  of  thought  ?  The  stars  that,  like  lamps 
hung  up  on  high,  send  down  a  tranquil  radiance  upon  earth ;  the  moon, 
that  treads  the  steadfast  floors  of  heaven  in  the  very  spirit  of  peace  and 
beauty ;  the  breeze,  that  brings  the  various  harmonies  of  creation  to  the 
listening  ear  of  reflection,  softening  the  rude,  and  heightening  the  pen- 
sive cadences  of  birds,  and  streams,  and  waterfalls,  till  the  very  soul  of 
sacred  melody  seems  breathing  in  them, — surely,  these  are  objects  to 
uplift  and  solemnize,  not  to  degrade  and  dispirit,  contemplation  !  Where, 
then,  lies  the  secret  of  the  dark  spell  which  night  usually  holds  over 
the  feelings.  Not  in  its  encouragement  of,  but  in  its  stern  monopoly 
over,  thought !  In  the  power  with  which  it  compels,  meditation,  and, 
by  consequence,  melancholy ;  for,  with  the  majority,  reflection  is  but 
another  word  for  sadness.  Night — shadowy,  mysterious,  phantom- 
peopled  Night — the  avenger — the  searcher  of  the  soul — the  spirit  of 
many  tones, — Night  shuts  out  the  busy  interests  which  distract  atten- 
tion during  the  day,  and  throws  man  on  his  own  mental  resources.  It 
brings  him  face  to  face  with  his  Creator,  and  bids  him  feel  that  his 
inmost  thoughts  are  stripped  naked,  and  scrutinized  by  Celestial  Intelli- 
gence !  By  day,  the  world  steals  between  man  and  his  Maker,  render- 
ing callous  the  finer  organs  of  humanity ;  but  by  night  that  world  is 
shut  out ;  its  hold  over  the  mind  is  let  go ;  its  petty,  miserable  intrigues 
find  their  fitting  level ;  and  every  object  over  which  the  eye  ranges,  every 
sound  which  falls  upon  the  ear — are  so  many  helps  by  which  the  spirit 
of  reflection  mounts  to  heaven.  Memory,  too — the  spectral  figure  of 
Memory — walks,  like  other  phantoms,  chiefly  by  night ;  and  who,  even 
among  the  most  impassive  and  unenlightened,  can  look  upon  her  awful 
form  without  a  shudder  ? 

Sergius  was  a  rude  soldier ;  but  he  was  not  without  his  moments 
of  reflection,  and  even  tenderness — the  deeper,  perhaps,  inasmuch 
as  they  were  rare  and  unlooked-for ;  and  as  he  now  recalled  the 
recollection  of  the  thousands  whom  his  ruthless  ambition  had  blotted 
out  from  the  book  of  life  ;  as  his  eye  glanced  along  the  array  of  tents 
that  gleamed  in  the  starlight  around  him,  and  the  conviction  forced 
itself  on  his  mind,  that  of  the  multitudes  thus  entranced  in  slumber,  num- 
bers would,  ere  the  morrow's  sunset,  lie  stretched  on  earth,  exchanging 
a  transient  for  an  eternal  sleep, — a  pang  shot  across  his  heart;  and  it 
was  not  till  the  early  cock  had  crowed,  that  he  was  enabled  to  get  an 
hour's  hurried  repose. 

The  important  day  had  now  arrived  which  was  to  decide  the  destiny 
of  the  South  Britons.  The  morning  broke  bright  and  unclouded ;  the 
mists  were  fast  steaming  up  from  the  vallies,  and  rolling  off  the  sides  of 
the  Black  Mountains ;  and  the  hum  of  human  voices,  the  neighing  of 
steeds,  and  the  sharp,  shrill  clank  of  armour,  began  to  be  heard  along 
the  lines  of  the  Roman  tents. 

Sergius  was  among  the  first  astir  in  the  field.  With  the  first  sound  of 
the  trumpet  he  had  laughed  off  the  depressing  reveries  of  night ;  and  as 
he  mounted  his  war-horse,  and  galloped  from  squadron  to  squadron, 
followed  by  a  glittering  cavalcade  of  officers,  the  sternness  of  the  soldier 


1830.]  a  Tale  of  Che  Ancient  Britons.  281 

crushed  out  in  his  breast  the  kindlier  feelings  of  the  man,  as  things 
beneath  contempt.  Manlius  joined  him  at  this  instant,  and  after  one  or 
two  indifferent  remarks,  directed  his  attention  towards  the  army  of  the 
Silures,  which,  as  the  morning  vapours  drew  up,  was  distinctly  visible 
at  the  further  end  of  Carrick-Sawthy,  backed  by  a  ridge  of  the  Black 
Mountains,  accessible  only  to  those  acquainted  with  their  secret  passes, 
and,  beyond  that  ridge,  by  the  forest,  in  whose  labyrinthine  recesses  the 
sacrifices  of  the  preceding  night  had  been  performed. 

The  plain,  in  which  the  battle  was  to  be  fought,  formed  a  sandy 
amphitheatre,  about  three  miles  in  circumference,  divided  into  equal 
sections  by  the  Towy,  over  which  a  rustic  bridge  was  thrown,  dotted 
with  masses  of  granite — the  same  as  on  Dartmoor  are  styled  Tors — and 
bordered  on  every  side  by  hills,  of  which  the  Black  Mountains  formed 
by  far  the  loftiest  and  most  precipitous  chain.  At  the  foot  of  these  hills, 
the  soil  of  the  plain  lost  its  dry  arid  character,  constituting  a  series  of 
small  daisied  meadows,  watered  by  branches  of  the  Towy,  and  sloping 
gently  towards  the  base  of  the  hills,  especially  towards  that  of  the 
Black  Mountains,  where  stood  a  little  village  of  the  Silures,  in  whose 
immediate  vicinity  the  British  troops  were  now  stationed, 

Sergius  no  sooner  beheld  the  enemy  thus  advantageously  posted,  than 
he  dismissed  Manlius  with  orders  to  his  different  praefects  to  bring  up 
their  cohorts  and  arrange  them  in  order  of  battle,  while  he  himself  rode 
forward  to  reconnoitre  more  closely  the  position  of  the  Silures.  To  his 
no  little  surprise,  he  found  the  barbarians  drawn  up  in  a  compact,  not  to 
say  a  scientific  manner.  In  front  was  posted  a  strong  body  of  cavalry, 
armed  with  copper-headed  spears  and  shields,  each  squadron  of  which 
was  divided  by  an  almost  countless  host  of  infantry,  whose  defensive 
armour  consisted  of  a  weighty  broad-sword,  and  leather  shield  studded 
with  brass  nails ;  and  the  two  wings  were  composed  of  chariots  pro- 
vided with  scythes  fixed  to  the  axle-trees,  and  manned  by  veteran  leaders 
of  the  different  tribes.  Nothing,  in  short,  could  be  more  complete  than 
the  general  disposition  of  the  Britons ;  and  Sergius,  who  beheld  them 
with  the  practised  eye  of  a  soldier,  rode  back  to  his  encampment  with 
involuntary  admiration  of  their  tactics. 

The  Roman  army  had  by  this  time  formed  on  the  middle  of  the  plain, 
in  order  of  battle ;  and  a  more  gallant  body  of  men,  more  efficient  in 
equipment,  more  disciplined  and  more  inured  to  victory,  never  fought 
under  the  banners  of  the  empire.  The  Daciari  stationed  himself  at  their 
head,  full  in  front  of  the  legion,  which  was  supported  on  either  side  by 
some  picked  Illyrian  cohorts  ;  and  as  he  rode,  sword  in  hand,  along  the 
line,  with  his  noble  war-horse  bounding  under  him,  as  if  he  "  snuffed 
the  battle  afar  off,"  his  martial  air,  his  glittering  armour,  which  blazed  like 
a  sheet  of  fire  in  the  sunshine,  and,  above  all,  his  proud  smile  of  con- 
fidence, woke  corresponding  energy  in  the  hearts  of  his  soldiers,  which 
was  heightened  to  enthusiasm  when  the  gallant  warrior,  after  pointing 
to  the  enemy  with  outstretched  sword,  and  bidding  the  trumpet  sound 
to  the  charge,  spurred  his  horse  towards  them,  and  bade  his  legion 
follow. 

Just  at  this  crisis,  Manlius,  who  was  stationed  on  foot  in  the  rear, 
turning  with  a  smile  towards  a  prsefect  who  stood  next  him,  whispered, 
"  We  shall  have  hotter  work  than  I  had  foreseen,  for  the  Druids  are 
posting  themselves  in  front.  Hark  to  their  shouts  !  They  come — they 
come  !" 

MM.  New  Series.'— VOL.  X.  No.  57.  2  N 


282  The  Arch-Druid-:  [SEPT. 

An  instant — and  the  foremost  ranks  of  the  Britons  had  borne  down 
like  an  avalanche  on  the  legion.  Such  was  the  impetuosity  of  their 
charge,  that  the  flower  of  the  Roman  army  wavered,  till  Sergius, 
snatching  a  standard  from  one  of  the  centurions  near  him,  waved  it 
aloft,  and  shouting  at  the  very  top  of  his  voice,  "  Soldiers  !  stand  firm  ; 
will  you  fly  before  a  handful  of  barbarians  ?"  dashed  into  the  thickest  of 
the  fight,  followed  close  by  the  legion,  and  the  Illyrian  cohorts.  En- 
raged at  this  desperate  opposition,  the  Druids,  who,  on  the  advance  of 
their  front  ranks,  had  retired  towards  the  chariots  at  either  wing,  now 
commanded  these  reserves  to  advance.  Their  orders  were  no  sooner 
issued  than  obeyed.  Up  came  the  dreaded  cavalry  with  a  shock  that 
nothing  could  resist.  The  sharp  scythes  mowed  a  passage  right  and 
left  before  them  ;  the  horses,  goaded  to  their  utmost  speed,  threw  the 
Roman  infantry  into  complete  disorder,  while  the  charioteers  increased 
the  confusion  by  the  cloud  of  lances  which  they  hurled  forward  with 
unerring  precision.  The  moment  was  a  critical  one.  for  the  imperial 
troops.  On  every  side  they  saw  their  infantry  drop  in  hundreds,  each 
soldier  at  his  post,  cool  and  collected  even  in  the  hour  of  death ;  and 
the  majority  of  them  would  at  once  have  retreated,  in  order  to  gain  time 
for  rallying,  had  not  a  timely  charge  by  the  main  body  of  the  cavalry, 
restored  them  in  some  degree  to  order  and  to  confidence. 

In  this  manner  the  battle  had  continued  the  greater  part  of  the  day, 
inclining  at  one  period  to  the  Silures,  and  at  another  to  their  invaders, 
both  of  whom  had  sustained  immense  losses ;  when,  suddenly,  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  plain,  a  tremendous  shout  was  heard ;  immense  masses 
of  troops  appeared  to  be  issuing  from  the  British  village  ;  and  the 
exhausted  Romans  were  thunderstruck  by  the  approach  of,  what  seemed 
to  them,  a  fresh  army  of  barbarians.  Manlius  was  the  first  to  perceive 
this  reinforcement,  and  paralyzed  at  the  sight,  cried,  "  A  second  army 
is  advancing  to  our  destruction !"  cast  away  his  arms,  and  fled  with 
the  speed  of  an  arrow  across  the  plain.  This  was  the  signal  for  retreat. 
An  uncontrollable  panic  seized  the  whole  Roman  army.  In  vain  Ser- 
gius  did  his  best  to  stop  them.  In  vain  he. rode  from  cohort  to  cohort, 
and  galloped  about  the  plain  like  a  madman,  imploring — threatening — 
encouraging  his  troops  to  return.  Nothing  could  restore  their  con- 
fidence. They  threw  down  their  arms,  and  rushed  in  confused  masses 
from  the  field,  bearing  the  Dacian  himself  along  with  them  in  their 
flight. 

Evening  was  now  drawing  on :  the  Silures,  having  returned  from  a 
hot  pursuit  of  their  enemies,  had  already  recrossed  the  mountain-passes  ; 
and  all  was  gloom  and  silence  on  Carrick-Sawthy.  Now  and  then,  the 
groans  of  some  dying  wretch,  or  the  screams  of  the  ravens,  who 
hovered  delighted  above  their  feast,  broke  the  stillness  of  the  scene  ;  but 
even  these  at  last  ceased :  and  the  sun  went  down  on  a  noiseless  plain, 
where  death  had  anticipated  the  work  of  years.  But  where  was  Ser- 
gius?  Where  was  he  who,  at  day-break,  had  summoned  his  troops 
to  arms  in  all  the  pride  of  confidence  and  glory  ?  Dejected,  almost 
broken-hearted,  mind  and  body  alike  sunk  in  abject  torpor,  he  made 
no  further  efforts,  but  resigned  himself  sullenly  to  despair.  At  the 
extremity  of  the  plain,  he  encountered  Manlius.  Stung  with  a  recol- 
lection of  the  youth's  cowardice, — "  Rash,  infatuated  fool !"  he  ex- 
claimed, "  your  timidity  has  ruined  all ;  the  emperor  shall  be  informed 
of  your  conduct." 


1830.  J  a  Tale  of  the  Ancient  Britons.  283 

"  The  emperor  ?"  replied  Manlius  ;  "  never  ! — But  come,"  he  added, 
in  his  most  soothing  manner,  "  the  damage  is  not  irretrievable ;  if  my 
blunder  has  occasioned  you  the  loss  of  a  battle,  it  is  fit  that  my  inge- 
nuity should  restore  it." 

"  Restore  it  ?  Alas  !  what  is  there  left  to  restore  ?  Can  you  restore 
me  my  gallant  troops  ?  Can  you  put  life  into  my  martyred  legion? 
Can  you  heal  my  wounded  honour, — or  cool  this  fever  in  my  brain  ?"— 
(striking  his  hands  passionately  against  his  forehead).  "  By  the  eternal 
Mars !  Manlius,  you  drive  me  mad.  Another  such  word  of  mockery, 
and  I  strike  you  dead." 

The  youth  stood  calm  and  unmoved ;  and  after  waiting  till  the  sol- 
dier's phrenzy  had  in  part  expended  itself,  replied,  "  I  deserve  your 
reproaches  ;  but  indeed — indeed — I  did  all  for  the  best.  Meanwhile, 
fortune  has  not  wholly  deserted  us.  Our  army,  it  is  true,  is  disper- 
sed ;  but  thousands  yet  survive,  smarting  under  a  sense  of  dishonour, 
and  burning  to  retrieve  their  loss.  To-morrow  we  can  rally,  and  lead 
them  against  the  enemy  ;  but  at  present  let  me  guide  you  to  the  only 
secure  place  of  shelter  that  this  country  affords,  and  which  I  discovered 
last  night  on  my  return  from  the  British  encampment,  where  we  can 
discuss  our  future  operations. — Quick,  Sergius  !  for  I  hear  the  tramp 
of  the  enemy's  horse." 

With  these  words,  the  youth  grasped  his  companion  by  the  arm,  and 
forcing  him  behind  an  immense  block  of  granite,  the  pair  had  barely 
time  to  conceal  themselves,  when  a  squadron  of  the  Silures  came  thun- 
dering by. 

When  the  enemy  had  passed,  Manlius,  after  looking  cautiously  round 
him,  ventured  forth  from  his  concealment,  and  whispering  Sergius  to 
follow,  hastened  across  the  plain  in  the  direction  of  the  Black  Moun- 
tains. Lost  to  every  thing  but  a  sense  of  his  own  dishonour,  the  Dacian 
passively  obeyed.  He  made  not  the  slightest  inquiries  as  to  whither  his 
guide  intended  to  lead  him,  but  with  downcast  looks  and  trembling  pace 
followed  sullenly  in  his  track.  By  the  time  they  reached  the  end  of  the 
plain,  the  west  had  become  dark.  The  winding  crags  of  the  mountains 
stood  boldly  out  before  them,  tinted  with  a  myriad  shades  and  colours 
—some  black  as  the  raven's  wing,  some  grey  with  lichens  and  wild 
mosses,  and  some  bloody  with  the  red  sand-stone.  At  the  base  of  this 
steep  chain,  stood  the  long  straggling  village  to  which  we  have  before 
alluded,  whose  huts,  composed  merely  of  stakes,  interwoven  with  wat- 
tles, and  covered  in  at  the  top  with  rude  skins,  had  been  apparently 
deserted  for  some  hours.  Not  a  voice  saluted  the  travellers  as  they 
passed;  not  a  light  glanced  out  from  any  of  the  quaint,  shapeless 
hovels ;  solitude,  and  that  of  the  most  cheerless  character,  was  around 
them,  excepting  when  some  sheep-dog  barked,  or  some  shy  stray  goat 
butted  at  their  passing  shadows. 

A  few  minutes  sufficed  to  carry  Sergius  and  his  guide  beyond  the 
village,  when  they  at  once  began  to  climb  the  long  acclivities  of  the 
mountains.  At  first  their  ascent  was  gradual,  and  comparatively  safe  in 
point  of  footing  ;  but  as  they  gained  a  higher  elevation,  the  difficulties 
of  the  road  increased.  In  one  place,  their  route  led  them  across  a  morass, 
the  shallow  surface  of  which  kept  continually  undulating  as  they  passed 
over  it  j  in  another,  they  were  compelled  to  creep  on  hands  and  knees 
up  the  sides  of  one  of  those  rugged  channels  which  had  been  eaten  into 
by  the  hungry  winter  torrents,  with  a  deep  tarn  beneath  them,  and  a 

2  N  2 


284  The  Arch-Druid :  [SEPT, 

mass  of  loose  stones  and  rocks  above ;  and,  in  a  third,  to  wind  round 
the  brow  of  a  precipice,  where  one  false  step  would  have  hurled  them 
headlong  into  the  black  abyss  that  yawned  a  hundred  fathoms  below. 
A  brisk,  keen  wind,  which  came  roaring  through  the  hollow  clefts  of 
the  mountains,  added  not  a  little  to  their  danger  ;  for  at  one  moment  all 
would  be  hushed  and  still,  and  the  next,  a  blast  would  rush  upon  them 
with  the  force  of  an  avalanche,  bearing  down  with  it  in  its  progress 
confused  heaps  of  clay  and  stone,  and  blocks  of  wood.  Altogether,  the 
route,  though  of  no  great  moment  or  hazard  perhaps  to  experienced 
mountaineers  like  the  Silures,  yet  to  such  a  novice  as  Sergius,  whose 
campaigns,  previous  to  those  in  West  Britain,  had  been  chiefly  restricted 
to  the  flat  marshy  provinces  of  Belgium,  teemed  with  difficulty,  if  not 
absolute  danger. 

They  had  continued  the  ascent  for  upwards  of  an  hour,  when  Man- 
lius,  overcome  with  excessive  fatigue,  was  obliged  reluctantly  to  make 
a  halt.  For  the  first  time  since  they  quitted  the  plain,  Sergius  now 
addressed  him. — <e  Where  are  you  leading  me  to  ?  Tell  me  at  once,  and 
without  reserve^  or  I  will  go  no  further." 

"  Have  a  moment's  patience,"  replied  the  youth,  drawing  his  breath 
with  difficulty  ;  "  the  fatigues  of  this  day  have  so  exhausted  me  that  I 
can  hardly  speak."  Then,  in  a  subdued  tone,  rendered  tremulous  by 
extreme  weariness,  "  I  am  searching  for  a  cave  which  I  passed  last 
night  in  a  gorge  of  these  mountains.  The  mouth  is  so  effectually  con- 
cealed by  underwood,  that  it  will  afford  us  secure  shelter  till  day-break, 
when  we  can  rejoin  the  remains  of  our  army." 

A  long  sigh  from  Sergius  was  the  sole  reply  to  this  explanation.  The 
allusion  to  his  shattered  troops  had  gathered  again  those  clouding 
thoughts  which  the  excitement  of  the  walk  had  in  part  dispelled  ; 
and  as  he  sat  with  folded  arms  on  a  fragment  of  rock  that  jutted 
out  into  the  pass  from  the  black  wall  of  precipice  above  him,  he  might 
have  been  mistaken  for  one  of  those  weird  spirits  with  which  the  wild 
fancies  of  the  Britons  loved  to  people  their  native  mountains. 

After  half  an  hour's  delay,  during  which  Manlius  vainly  strove  to 
compose  himself  to  sleep,  "  Let  us  hasten  on,"  he  said,  rising,  but  not 
without  an  effort,  from  his  seat ;  "  the  cave  cannot  be  far  distant ;  and 
if  we  sit  loitering  longer  on  this  crag,  the  wind  will  chill  our  limbs. so, 
that  we  shall  not  be  able  to  stir." 

Again  the  travellers  set  forward  on  their  route,  guided  by  the  light  of 
the  risen  moon,  which,  struggling  through  a  grey  pall  of  ragged  and 
spongy  clouds,  threw  strange  fitful  gleams  upon  the  landscape.  They 
had  now  gained  the  highest  accessible  point  of  the  pass,  whence  an 
almost  endless  expanse  of  prospect  lay  stretched  before  and  behind 
them.  The  moon,  which  for  a  few  moments  stood  unclouded  in  the 
sky,  enabled  them  to  look  back  on  the  road  which  they  had  just  tra- 
versed. It  ran  along  the  edge  of  an  abrupt,  thunder-splintered  preci- 
pice. A  billowy  sea  of  mountains  lay  below  it,  some  robed  in  mist, 
some  lifting  high  their  grey  naked  heads  into  the  air,  and  some  robed 
to  the  very  summit  with  forest  pines,  Beyond  where  the  mountains 
sloped  towards  level  ground,  slept  in  peaceful  loveliness  the  silent  plain 
of  Carrick-Sawthy.  Sergius  knew  it  at  a  glance  :  it  was  the  fatal  scene 
of  his  morning's  encounter.  Shuddering,  he  averted  his  head,  and 
passed  on,  listening  with  far  more  congenial  feelings  to  the  sepulchral 
voice  of  the  wind,  which  at  intervals  bore  to  his  ear  the  howl  of  the 


1830.]  a  Tale  of  the  Ancient  Britons.  205 

wolf  or  wild  fox.  Occasionally  he  paused,  till  the  free  unshackled 
moon  should  render  his  path  more  distinct ;  and  in  the  cloud-topped 
mountain,  with  crag  upon  crag  towering  to  a  dizzy  height  above  him — 
and  before  him,  at  the  extremity  of  the  pass,  a  black  wood,  tremendous 
in  its  depth  of  gloom — he  recognized  a  withering  spirit  of  desolation,  like 
that  which  chilled  his  own  heart. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  pauses,  that  Manlius  pointed  out  to  his 
notice  a  cataract,  which,  crossing  the  road  immediately  in  front,  went 
shouting  and  leaping  headlong  down  a  ravine  a  few  yards  before  them. 
Down  this  steep  declivity,  the  youth  informed  him  they  must  proceed ; 
and  in  a  few  minutes,  himself  setting  the  example,  picked  his  way  from 
crag  to  crag,  grasping  fast  by  the  shrubs  that  grew  out  beside  the  water- 
fall. With  some  difficulty  they  accomplished  the  descent,  which  brought 
them  once  more  on  level  ground,  and  at  the  very  entrance  of  the  forest. 
Manlius  here  halted,  and  looking  around  him,  exclaimed,  "  The  cave 
must  be  somewhere  hereabouts ;"  and  quitting  his  companion,  moved 
forward  to  reconnoitre. 

He  had  not  been  a  quarter  of  an  hour  absent,  when  a  few  straggling 
lights  were  seen  glimmering  through  the  wood.  Sergius  started  with 
astonishment;  but  at  that  instant  his  guide  returned.  His  step  was 
tottering,  his  countenance  corpse-like  in  its  hue,  his  eye  had  a  fixed 
stony  stare,  his  voice  was  broken  by  convulsive  agitation. — "  Dacian  !" 
he  said,  in  a  tone  which  sounded  like  a  wind  among  tombs,  "  the 
Ides  of  May  are  come  !"  Then  before  the  soldier  could  prepare  himself 
for  what  was  to  ensue,  he  shouted  aloud,  in  the  direction  whence  the 
lights  had  been  seen  to  glimmer,  "  Approach,  and  seize  your  victim  !" 
Immediately  a  loud  tumult  was  heard  ;  the  torches  flashed  nearer ;  and 
a  body  of  men,  rushing  out  from  ambush,  laid  hold  of  the  Dacian 
and  his  guide,  and  bore  them  swiftly  onwards  into  the  forest. 

A  very  few  minutes,  during  which  brief  space  not  a  word  transpired 
on  either  side,  brought  the  party  to  the  end  of  their  journey.  Here 
they  halted  in  a  broad  open  space,  encircled  with  the  troops  of  the 
Silures,  and  bright  as  day  with  innumerable  torches.  Before  Ser- 
gius could  recover  the  surprise  into  which  this  unexpected  catastrophe 
had  thrown  him,  he  found  himself  placed  in  front  of  the  cromlech,  and 
surrounded  by  a  body  of  Druids,  in  whose  silent  but  expressive  faces 
he  at  once  read  his  death-warrant.  Above  him,  on  the  rude  steps  of  the 
altar,  stood  the  Arch-Druid  arrayed  in  the  robe  of  sacrifice,  and 
before  him  Manlius,  who  was  by  this  time  at  liberty.  Sergius  was  the 
first  to  break  silence.  Fixing  a  stern  gaze  on  his  guide,  before  whose 
eagle  glance,  however,  his  spirit  quailed  in  spite  of  itself, — •"  Whence 
this  surprise  ?"  he  said ;  "  who  and  what  are  you,  Manlius  ?  Speak, 
why  have  you  thus  betrayed  me  ?" 

"  Who  am  I  ?  Fool !  can  you  so  soon  have  forgotten  ?  But  no 
matter  ;  your  memory  will  be  stronger  presently."  With  these  words, 
he  stepped  aside,  and  stooping  down  to  a  small  streamlet  that  trickled 
through  the  cromlech,  washed  the  dark  stains  of  the  whartle-berry 
from  his  face,  dashed  the  military  cap  from  his  brow,  the  light  but 
ample  tunic  from  his  breast,  and  then  advanced  full  in  front  of  the 
captive. 

"  Now,  tyrant !  do  you  recognise  me  now  ?"  he  said. 

One  glance — one  brief,  shuddering  glance — sufficed  to  shew  Sergius 
who  it  was  that  stood  before  him. 


The  Arch-Druid :  [SEPT. 

"  Eternal  Mars  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  it  is  the  Queen  of  the  Silures  !  It 
is  Cartismandua  herself !" — and  he  placed  his  hands  upon  his  eyes  to 
shut  out  the  horrid  vision. 

"  Yes,  it  is  Cartismandua — that  wretch,  whose  life  you  have 
rendered  one  long  protracted  curse.  Mighty  warrior  !  where  was  your 
sagacity,  where  your  foresight,  when  you  suffered  her  to  pass  so  long 
unnoticed  ? — Listen,  while,  thread  by  thread,  I  unwind  the  thick  web 
of  wiles  in  which  for  months  you  have  been  tightly  folded.  Caradoc — 

my  husband Hah !  I  see  you  have  not  yet  forgotten  that  name. 

Too  well  you  remember  the  foul,  the  degrading  insults,  to  which  you 
subjected  that  free-born  prince." 

"  He  was  a  rebel,"  retorted  Sergius. 

"  He  was  a  patriot,"  interrupted  Cartismandua :  "  but,  rebel  or 
patriot,  he  is  now  amply  avenged."  She  then  proceeded  as  follows,  in 
a  voice  stern  and  commanding,  but  broken  at  intervals  by  an  intense 
spasmodic  emotion,  which  she  vainly  strove  to  check  :— 

"  On  the  evening  of  that  day  which  saw  my  husband  a  slave,  myself 
an  exile,  I  quitted  your  camp  a  lost,  broken-hearted  wretch.  My 
very  soul  seemed  crushed  out.  I  was  fit  only  to  be  a  slave — even  yours. 
For  four  long  months  did  this  spell  bow  me  to  earth.  For  four  long 
months  did  I  meanly  sue  for  death,  wandering  a  beggar  through  the 
land  where  I  had  once  reigned  as  queen.  At  last,  one  night,  as  I 
lay  alone  on  the  bare  crag,  a  vision  passed  before  me.  I  stood  in  the 
Roman  camp,  a  second  time  a  supplicant.  You  were  there,  encircled 
as  before  by  soldiers ;  and  as  you  spurned  my  prayer,  you  thrust  me 
with  your  foot  from  your  presence,  and  added  a  term  of  stinging 

insult.     Your  praefects  and  centurions  laughed,  while  I But  my 

brain  reels  at  the  thought.  With  the  torture  of  that  moment,  I  awoke. 
My  blood  was  all  fire — my  throat  parched  with  ashes  !  '  Shall  the 
tyrant  triumph,"  I  cried,  '  while  I  pine  here  unrevenged  ?'  The  free 
winds  repeated  my  words  ;  rock  repeated  it  to  rock ;  mountain  shouted 
it  aloud  to  mountain,  from  whose  mysterious  depths  came  up  the  solemn 
reply — REVENGE  !  From  that  moment  a  change  came  over  me.  My 
prostrate  soul  was  uplifted ;  the  undying  spirit  of  Vengeance  absorbed 
my  every  thought.  For  this  alone  I  consented  to  endure  existence.  This  was 
the  food — the  manna  on  which  I  throve.  With  the  thirst  for  retribu- 
tion came  also  the  means  of  its  accomplishment.  Open  violence,  I  knew, 
would  do  nothing — cunning  alone  could  succeed.  While  ruminating 
on  my  plans,  Caradoc  escaped  from  your  clutches.  We  met ;  but  it 
was  the  meeting  of  two  joyless,  dishonoured  creatures,  whose  hearts 
were  tombs,  in  which  all  happy  thoughts  lay  buried.  From  him  I 
learned  the  news  of  your  recal  to  Rome.  '  Now,  then,  or  never,'  I 
said,  '  must  the  blow  be  struck.'  My  plans  were  soon  arranged.  Cara- 
doc—who,  disgusted  with  sovereignty,  had  assumed  the  rank  of  Arch- 
Druid — was  to  rouse  his  countrymen ;  while  I — disguised  as  a  patrician 
ofNumidian  descent — was  to  insinuate  myself  into  your  presence." 

"  Fool,  fool !"  interrupted  Sergius,  dashing  his  hand  to  his  brow. 

Cartismandua  proceeded. — "  You  are  surprised  that  in  the  youth 
Manlius  you  could  not  recognize  the  Queen  of  the  Silures.  Alas  ! 
misery  had  done  her  work  too  well :  disguise  was  superfluous.  There 
is  no  mask  like  that  which  care  throws  over  the  countenance.  But 
complete  concealment  alone  could  ensure  success,  and  nothing  was  to 
be  left  to  chance.  You  will  ask,  why  I  did  not  at  once  revenge 


1830.]  a  Tale  of  the  Ancient  Britons.  287 

myself  by  your  death.  I  had  the  strongest  motives  to  restrain  me.  Had 
I  murdered  you,  my  own  destruction  would  have  followed,  and  my 
revenge  been  incomplete.  By  keeping  always  near  your  person,  I  was 
sure  of  my  victim,  might  perhaps  mould  him  to  my  purposes,  and  daily 
feast  my  eyes  with  the  thoughts  of  a  luxurious  vengeance !  We 
sailed  for  Rome.  There  I  renewed  my  court  connexions,  and, 
through  the  influence  of  Messalina,  ensured  the  favour  of  Claudius. 
By  this  means  I  was  enabled  to  transmit  intelligence  to  Caradoc.  Now 
came  the  crowning  glory  of  my  policy.  Tyrant !  it  was  through 
my  influence  with  the  empress  that  you  obtained  the  command  of 
the  Roman  army !  To  attain  this  grand  point,  I  publicly  re- 
nounced my  country,  and  swore  allegiance  to  Rome,  while  in  secret  I 
still  kept  up  my  communication  with  the  Druids.  You  wonder  at  my 
craft,  my  fiendish — call  it  by  what  name  you  will — subtlety.  You 
wonder  that  I  could  so  long  smile — and  fawn — and  flatter — while  re- 
venge was  rankling  at  my  heart.  Fool !  do  you  not  know  that  the 
deeper  the  passion,  the  softer  is  the  voice,  the  smoother  the  counte- 
nance ?  Shallow  streams  brawl  and  sputter  along  their  channels ;  the 
deep  flood  rolls  on  with  scarce  a  murmur.  All  went  on  as  I  could  have 
desired.  You  were  invited  to  attend  the  imperial  banquet.  There, 
for  the  first  time,  our  eyes  met.  But  you,  ideot  that  you  were,  had  not 
wit  enough  to  fathom  my  mystery  ! 

ff  At  length  the  day  arrived  for  your  departure.  An  augur — who  he 
was  I  cannot  even  surmise — pronounced  your  doom.  It  was  probably 
a  random  prediction,  but  I  felt  it  was  prophetic ;  and,  fearful  of  its 
effects,  hurried  you  at  once  on  board.  From  that  hour  to  the 
present,  I  have  been  in  constant  communication  with  the  Britons.  Last 
night — only  last  night — I  met  their  chiefs  by  appointment  in  this  very 
spot,  informed  them  of  your  approach,  of  the  state  and  equipment  of  your 
army,  proposed  that  manoeuvre  by  which — after  being  inactive  through- 
out the  battle — I  led  you  to  suppose  that  a  second  army  was  advancing 
against  you  :  and  by  my  flight — the  time  and  mode  of  which  were  both 
preconcerted — achieved  your  downfall,  and  revenged  my  husband, 
my  country,  and  myself." 

As  Cartismandua  concluded,  she  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height. 
Her  bosom  heaved,  her  whole  nature  seemed  to  dilate  with  the  exulting 
idea  of  a  full  and  bloody  vengeance.  But  the  effort  was  beyond  her 
strength.  Suddenly  her  eye  lost  its  fire,  her  voice  its  energy ;  and 
turning  with  a  saddened  glance  to  Sergius,  she  pointed  towards  the 
mountains  which  they  had  both  so  lately  passed.  "  There,"  she  added, 
and  her  heart  seemed  breaking  as  she  spoke,  "  there,  beyond  that  lofty 
chain  lies  the  plain  of  Carrick-Sawthy.  There  my  doom  was  sealed  in 
this  world.  My  husband  a  slave,  degraded  by  the  lash,  and  tortured 
by  the  mockery  of  slaves — myself  an  outcast,  and  left  at  liberty  solely 
from  a  haughty  tyrant's  contempt  for  my  power — was  it  for  me  thus 
humbled,  thus  by  one  vile*blow  struck  down  from  the  pedestal,  to  which 
my  pride  as  a  queen,  as  a  woman,  as  a  Briton,  as  the  daughter  of  one 
prince,  and  the  wife  of  another,  had  exalted  itself — was  it  for  me,  thus 
trodden  to  earth,  to  presume  to  rise  again  ?  Never  !  Pride  like  mine 
knows  but  one  fall.  It  is  no  willow  to  rear  its  head  when  the  blast  has 
blown  over  it.  Wretch  !  turn  your  eyes  upon  these  haggard  features. 
Remember  what  I  once  was,  see  to  what  you  have  reduced  me !  But 
for  you,  I  might  have  been  a  happy  mother.  But  for  you,  I  might 
have  given  a  long  line  of  Princes  to  my  country,  have  watched  them 


£ !  The  Arch-Druid :  [SEPT. 

grow  up  around  me,  and  in  their  noble  forms  and  manly  senti- 
ments have  traced  their  father's  nature.  But  all  is  over  now.  No 
child  of  mine  shall  ever  live  to  bless  his  mother's  memory.  The  axe  is 
at  the  root — the  worm  at  the  core — and  this  blighted,  shrivelled  form 
shall  never  more  put  forth  bud  or  blossom.  Caradoc — my  husband — 

my "  Before  she  could  complete  the  sentence,  her  whole  form 

became  convulsed,  and  she  sank  sobbing  and  half  inanimate  at  the  foot 
of  the  cromlech. 

The  Arch-Druid  now  advanced.  He  had  marked  this  impressive 
scene — which,  though  it  takes  up  some  room  in  the  narration,  passed 
in  a  comparatively  short  space  of  time — with  visible  impatience;  but  no 
sooner  did  he  see  Cartismandua  fall,  than  his  strong  emotion  got  the 
better  of  him,  and  hastily  advancing,  he  consigned  her  to  the  especial  care 
of  the  nearest  Druid,  and  addressed  himself  to  Sergius,  who  had  listened 
to  the  latter  part  of  Cartismandua's  details  with  a  sullenness  bordering 
upon  vacancy. 

But  the  deep,  solemn  tones  of  the  Arch-Druid  roused  him  to  some- 
thing like  attention.  "In  me,"  said  the  pontiff,  "you  behold  the  hus- 
band of  that  broken-hearted  woman.  I  am  Caradoc !  In  that  one  word 
lies  your  doom.  The  gods  demand  your  life  as  a  sacrifice ;  and  when 
the  prophetic  owl  of  Hesus  has  whooped  thrice,  the  debt  shall  be  paid." 

As  Caradoc  thus  definitely  pronounced  his  doom,  Sergius  shook  with 
horror.  Up  to  this  period  he  had  cherished  some  vague  hopes  of 
life — all  were  now  blasted.  In  the  paroxysm  of  the  moment,  he 
turned  towards  the  British  prince,  and  even  sued  for  pity.  It  was 
sternly  but  silently  refused.  Cold  drops  stood  upon  the  Dacian's  fore- 
head ;  death  in  the  high  excitement  of  battle  he  could  have  braved,  as 
he  had  braved  it  a  thousand  times  before ;  but  death  in  this  terrific  form, 
stealing  in  the  silence  of  midnight,  in  the  depths  of  an  unknown  forest, 
slowly,  surely,  like  a  spectre  towards  him,  its  every  footstep  falling 
with  fearful  distinctness  on  his  ear — for  this  he  was  wholly  unprepared. 

Meantime  the  Britons,  intolerant  of  this  protracted  scene,  began  to 
testify  their  impatience  by  savage  outcries,  by  clashing  their  shields, 
and  thronging  tumultuously  close  to  the  altar. 

Sergius  marked  their  approach.  By  an  extraordinary  effort,  col- 
lecting all  his  courage  for  one  final  struggle,  he  exclaimed,  "  Barba- 
rians, I  am  at  your  mercy.  Do  with  me  as  you  list,  but  bear  witness 
that  I  die  as  I  have  lived — a  Roman  warrior." 

"  Hark,"  said  one  of  the  Druids,  cutting  short  his  further  appeal,  <e  I 
hear  the  night- owl. 

"  No,"  replied  the  Pontiff,  "'tis  but  the  wolf  baying  the  moon." 

Just  as  he  uttered  these  words,  the  owl,  from  a  neighbouring  tree, 
whooped  thrice.  The  sound — sharp — distinct — electric — pierced  the 
Dacian's  ear  like  a  knife,  while  at  the  same  time  it  announced  to  the 
Britons,  that  the  Deity  accepted  the  human  sacrifice. 

In  an  instant  numbers  had  surrounded  the  cromlech,  the  Druids, 
too,  gathered  close  round  their  victim;  and  the  Pontiff,  drawing 
the  sacrificial  weapon  from  his  breast,  plunged  it  to  the  hilt  in  the 
victim's  heart,  who  fell  without  a  groan ;  and  then  drawing  it  out  hot 
and  smoking  with  blood,  turned  triumphantly  to  his  wife :  "  Cartis- 
mandua," he  said,  "  our  wrongs  are  revenged — the  tyrant  is  no  more  !" 

Surprised  at  receiving  no  answer,  he  advanced,  and  raised  her  from 
the  arm  of  the  Druid  who  supported  her.  It  was 'too  late.  Her  heart 
was  broken.  She  was  dead  ! 


1830.]  [    289    ] 

THE    RISING    GENERATION   AND    THE    MARCH    CF    MIND. 

I  AM  old  enough  to  remember  a  great  many  things  that  seem 
never  to  have  fallen  in  the  way  of  the  present  generation,  and  that,  to 
the  generation  growing  on  their  heels,  must  be  as  far  gone  as  the  years 
beyond  the  Flood.  I  am  old  enough  to  remember  the  time  when  a  gen- 
tleman wore  the  dress  of  a  gentleman,  not  of  his  groom,  had  the  man- 
ners of  good  society,  not  of  the  race-course,  the  gaming-table,  or  the 
green-room,  and  had  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman,  not  of  the  unhappy 
danglers  on  place  or  the  loud-tongued  yet  equally  slavish  hunters  after 
rabble  applause.  I  can  remember,  too,  the  time  when  an  English 
merchant  was  not  a  swindling  speculator  with  other  men's  money,  but 
an  honest  trader ;  and  when  a  public  man  was  not  necessarily  under 
strong  suspicion  of  roguery.  But  all  this  implies,  a  long  time  ago ;  the 
march  of  mind  is  making  a  brilliant  progress,  and  before  a  year  or  two 
more,  we  shall  probably  be  the  most  illuminated  people  of  the  globe. 
But  our  progress  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  expertness  of  our  barbers 
in  comic  sections  or  our  green-grocers  in  the  roots  of  equations ;  the 
true  fruit  is  that  exquisite  refinement  which  is  spreading  so  visibly  over 
the  whole  surface  of  what  were  once  called  the  lower  orders  •  a  class 
which  will  henceforth  receive  and  deserve  the  name  of  the  "  superfine." 

Of  this  delightful  delicacy,  the  instances  that  crowd  upon  me  are  too 
flattering  to  the  hope  of  universal  polish,  not  to  attract  the  admiration 
of  one  who  has  for  the  last  twenty  years  been  puzzled  by  the  precocious 
wisdom  of  the  great  and  the  little  alike,  and  who,  firmly  believing  in 
the  proverb,  as  to  setting  beggars  on  horseback,  asks  only  a  year  or  two 
longer,  to  have  full  evidence  of  its  being  realized. 

I  give  you  a  few  among  the  multitude  of  instances  which  have  satisfied 
me,  that  the  march  of  intellect  has  made  the  most  irresistible  progress. 
If  they  be  more  than  have  fallen  within  general  observation,  let  it  be 
recollected  that  I  have  had  my  eyes  open  to  the  subject,  and  that,  as 
Sterne  says  of  the  "  Sentimental  Traveller,"  the  man  who  looks  about 
for  any  particular  absurdity  of  mankind,  will  never  be  disappointed  of 
his  crop  in  a  world  of  such  accomplished  education.  I  throw  these 
instances  together,  with  a  disregard  of  chronology  which  I  am  afraid 
may  offend  some  of  my  heroes  and  heroines ;  but  I  am  old,  and  I 
have  never  been  fortunate  enough  to  receive  the  illustration  of  even  a 
Mechanics'  Institute. 

A  year  or  two  ago,  on  coming  to  town  for  a  short  period,  I  took  a 
furnished  house,  engaged  attendants,  and  so  forth.  My  footman  was  a 
smart  fellow,  and  I  liked  him  well  enough.  But  I  was  not  sufficiently  for- 
tunate to  meet  his  approval  in  all  points.  Within  a  week  he  applied 
for  his  discharge ;  his  conge,  I  believe  he  called  it.  I  inquired  his 
reason.  He  did  me  the  honour  of  saying,  that  he  had  no  particular 
objection  to  me  or  my  family,  but  that  "  he  had  made  it  a  rule  not  to  live 
in  a  hired  house."  He  finished  with  an  accomplished  bow,  and  thus 
dismissed  me. 

As  I  was  staring  at  the  full  gallop  of  a  stage  through  one  of  our  most 
crowded  streets,  I  was  terrified  by  the  hazard  of  a  young  servant  girl, 
who  was  crossing,  within  a  few  feet  of  this  outrageous  machine.  In  my 
terror,  I  roared  out,  "  Girl,  take  care  of  the  coach." — "  Girl,"  said  the 
accomplished  fair  one,  indignantly,  "  I'd  have  you  to  know  I  am  lady's 
gentlewoman."  I  was  fool  enough  to  be  angry,  and  said—"  Jenny,  go 

M.M.  New  Series— Vot.  X.  No.  57.  2  O 


290  The  Rising  Generation,  and  the  March  of  Mind.          [SEPT. 

home  and  be  wiser." — "  Jenny  !"  retorted  she,  with  remarkable  vigour 
of  tone — "  none  of  that  nonsense,  old  gentleman,  my  name's  Henrietta 
Matilda !" 

In  the  heat  of  the  summer  as  I  was  returning  from  the  city,  I  felt 
fatigued  by  the  ascent  of  Holborn  and  called  a  coach.  The  driver  was 
absent,  and  my  inquiry  as  to  the  cause  was  answered  by  the  waterman. 
"  Your  Honour,  he's  gone  over  into  that  there  confectioner's,  to  take 
his  regular  ice." 

I  was  drawling  homewards  in  one  of  those  vehicles  a  few  days  after- 
wards, when  its  lazy  motion  stopped  altogether.  On  putting  my  head 
out  I  saw  my  driver  calmly  quitting  his  throne.  "  Only  getting  down 
to  get  a  bottle  of  soda,"  was  the  explanation. 

At  a  dinner  en  famille  with  an  old  friend,  the  conversation  over  our 
wine  was  frequently  interrupted  by  what  I  conceived  the  agonies  of  some 
child  in  a  state  of  strangulation.  As  my  friend  was  unincumbered  with 
those  delightful  sources  of  all  the  troubles  on  earth,  I  expressed  my 
surprise.  "  Why  hang  the  fellow,"  said  he,  with  some  appearance  of 
shame  at  the  incident,  "  I  wish  he  would  take  some  other  time  for  his 
foolery.  I  should  have  turned  him  out  twelve  months  ago,  but  they  are 
all  the  same  in  this  enlightened  age.  The  perpetrator  of  those  horrid 
sounds  is  my  footman,  taking  lessons  in  singing  and  the  guitar !" 

A  fellow  seven  feet  high,  with  the  limbs  of  an  elephant,  a  first-rate 
specimen  of  the  coalheaver,  was  discharging  some  of  his  chaldrons  in 
my  cellar.  The  fellow's  muscular  power  surprised  me,  and  I  gave  him 
something  more  than  the  usual  gratuity.  He  thanked  me,  "  particu- 
larly," said  he,  as  he  deposited  it  with  great  care  in  a  side  pocket, 
"  as  it  will  just  make  up  what  I  wanted  for  silks." — "  A  new  name  for 
porter,"  said  I.  "  No,  by  no  means,  your  Honour,"  was  the  reply. 
"  But  after  lecture,  we  has  a  ball,  and  the  Professor  has  written  up  on 
the  door — '  No  gentlemen  admitted  to  dance,  on  no  conditions  what- 
ever, but  in  silks  and  breeches/  " 

On  a  visit  to  the  country,  I  found  at  once  a  professor  of  the  new 
light  in  the  neighbouring  village,  and  half  my  servants  emigrating. 
From  one  of  them,  a  pretty  innocent  creature,  a  tenant's  daughter,  I  at 
length  extracted  the  secret  of  the  general  move.  "  They  preferred 
the  London  accent,  and  wished  to  leave  the  country  before  their 
organs  were  rigidified."  I  scented  the  professor  in  the  phrase ;  and 
was  cruel  enough  to  the  march  of  intellect  to  have  him  driven  out  of  the 
village. 

Crossing  Grosvenor-square,  I  was  followed  by  one  of  those  wretched 
beings  who  volunteer  sweeping  the  pave.  He  had  some  ragged  pieces 
of  leather  on  his  hand.  The  polite  mendicant !  As  he  held  it  out  for 
the  penny,  "  Excuse  my  glove,"  said  this  Chesterfield  of  the  mire. 

At  the  Inn  at  Devizes,  I  desired  the  chambermaid  to  get  the  warming- 
pan  ready  for  my  bed.  "  We  haven't  none  of  that  sort  now,"  said 
Blouzelind,  with  manifest  contempt.  "  In  this  hotel,  we  uses  nothing 
but  Panthermanticons/' 

"  Sir,"  said  my  footman,  a  successor  to  the  gentleman  who  disap- 
proved of  hired  houses,  <e  if  I  might  be  allowed  to  make  the  observa- 
tion, your  clothes  are  by  no  means  what  your  figure  would  justify." 
Voltaire  remarks  that  "'a  compliment  is  a  compliment  in  all  cases,  as  a 
pearl  is  a  pearl,  whether  we  find  it  in  an  oyster-bed  or  on  a  beauty's  bo- 
som." I  demanded  the  fellow's  reason.  "  The  truth  is,  Sir,"  said  he,  with 
a  profoundly  operatic  bow,  "  I  don't  relish  any  English  tailoring.  There 


1830.]  The  Rising  Generation,  and  the  March  of  Mind.  291 

is  a  something  about  the  foreign  cut  for  me/' — "  Oh,  oh/'  said  I, 
scarcely  able  to  avoid  the  indecorum  of  laughing  in  the  face  of  the  man  of 
taste,  "  you  wish  me  to  run  up  a  bill  with  Stultz  ;  but  I  always  pay 
ready  money,  and  have  no  bills  with  any  one." — "  Have  no  bills  ?"  mur- 
mured the  fellow,  with  irrepressible  scorn.  He  gave  me  warning  within 
the  week,  and,  to  do  him  justice,  I  lost  none  of  my  silver  spoons. 

Some  business  having  led  me  across  the  Channel,  and  having  kept  me 
there  until  I  thought  that  I  should  never  get  the  snuffling  of  French  out 
of  my  ears,  nor  the  fume  of  the  most  villainous  tobacco  on  earth  out  of 
my  nostrils,  I  hurried  homewards  with  the  sort  of  delight  that  a  prisoner 
may  feel  escaping  from  the  society,  sight,  scents,  and  sounds  of  a  Deptford 
hulk.  "  Here,"  thought  I,  as  I  sat  down  before  my  own  household  gods, 
drew  my  chair  to  the  fire,  and  looking  on  an  unpolluted  carpet,  a  clear 
blaze,  and  a  bottle  of  old  port,  felt  that  I  was  at  last  in  England  again, 
"  here  I  am  in  the  land  of  comfort  and  common  sense.  Here  I  can  sit 
without  being  smoked  into  an  asthma,  or  chattered,  grimaced,  and 
grinned  into  an  apoplexy."  The  congratulation  was  interrupted  by  a 
prodigious  double  or  fourfold  knock  at  the  hall  door,  which  prepared 
me  to  expect  the  visit  of  a  peer  at  least,  by  its  shattering  every  nerve  in 
my  frame.  I  rose  to  receive  my  august  visitor.  A  personage  stately  as 
a  field  marshal,  was  ushered  into  the  room,  in  a  magnificent  military 
cloak,  with  a  very  finished  specimen  of  sleek  moustache  on  his  lip,  and 
the  remnant  of  a  cigar  between  them.  Having  relieved  himself  of  his 
superabundant  smoke,  he,  by  a  discharge  in  my  face,  addressed  me ; 
dropped  a  few  sentences  about  nouveautes,  la  mode,  and  le  supreme  bon 
ton,  strung  like  jewels  on  some  of  the  most  thorough  English  of  Cheap- 
side,  and  threw  open  his  military  caparison.  The  gentleman  was  my 
tailor's  apprentice,  bringing  home  a  pair  of  breeches. 

This  wras  a  day  of  general  discovery.  In  my  rovings  through  the 
house,  left  untenanted  by  the  absence  of  my  family  in  the  country,  I 
found  the  upper  rooms  strongly  smelling  of  turpentine,  mastic,  and  so 
forth ;  a  varnish  brush  lay  on  my  toilet  table,  and  a  fragment  of  a  carmine 
saucer,  satisfied  me  that  other  sophistications  than  my  own  had  been 
going  on  there.  The  story  was  soon  told.  My  cook  had  selected  the 
apartment  from  its  being  more  convenient  than  the  kitchen  for  rouging 
herself  without  inspection ;  and  my  housemaid  had  selected  it  for  its 
advantage  of  a  northern  aspect,  in  the  lessons  which  she  was  taking  of 
an  "  eminent  artist,"  who  gave  lessons  in  oil  painting  and  varnishing,  at 
the  rate  of  half-a-erown  a  piece.  Opening  a  closet,  which  I  had  fitted 
up  as  a  small  study,  with  my  best  books,  and  from  which  I  enjoyed  a 
prospect  over  Hyde  Park,  I  was  repelled  by  a  combination  of  odours 
that  made  me  think  myself  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel  again.  My 
coachman,  a  huge  fellow  from  Yorkshire,  had  honoured  it  in  my  absence 
by  his  company.  To  this  spot  the  philosopher  of  hay  and  oats  was  in 
the  habit  of  retiring  to  solace  himself  with  copying  the  style  of  Richard- 
son's love  letters,  of  which  I  found  several  brilliant  specimens — sketching 
his  observations  on  the  margin  of  Smirke'S  edition  of  Don  Quixote,  and 
eating  maccaroni — of  which  I  found  a  ready  prepared  plate,  with  a  cigar 
burning  by  its  side ;  my  return  having  evidently  disturbed  Jehu 
in  his  retirement.  In  this  emergency,  what  was  J  to  do  ?  My  servants 
had  evidently  so  far  outwalked  me  in  tc  the  march,"  that  it  would  have 
been  the  highest  degree  of  injustice  to  expect  their  further  attendance. 
I  ought  indeed  rather  to  have  petitioned  to  clean  the  shoes  and  make  th« 

202 


292  Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary.  [SEPT. 

fires  of  such  accomplished  persons.  They  had  fairly  "  trod  on  the  heels" 
of  my  superiority,  as  the  professors  of  the  new  art  of  marching  so  muni- 
ficently promise  ;  and  as  the  next  tread  might  be  on  my  escrutoire,  or 
my  neck,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  relieve  them  of  the  pain  of  attendance 
on  a  being  so  much  less  intellectual  than  themselves.  In  the  course  of 
the  next  three  hours  I  sent  off  every  sage  and  syren  of  them  all.  There 
was  a  considerable  reluctance  on  their  part,  for  which  I  could  not  account 
at  the  time,  but  which  gave  way  on  my  using  the  argument  of  a  constable 
from  the  next  office.  At  eleven  o'clock  I  retired  to  my  pillow,  proud  of 
my  day's  work.  But  it  was  unhappily  not  to  sleep.  I  was  suddenly 
startled  by  a  succession  of  thunderings  at  my  door,  which  left  me  only 
the  choice  of  suppositions,  that  the  house  was  on  fire,  or  was  attacked 
by  robbers,  or  was  partaking  of  a  general  earthquake.  I  ran  to  the 
window — saw  successive  arrivals  of  sedans,  hackney  coaches,  and 
gentlemen  wrapped  in  magnificent  military  cloaks.  The  problem  was 
slowly,  but  perfectly  solved.  My  servants  had  invited  all  their  fellow 
students  at  the  Professor  of  Dancing's  Institute,  to  a  quadrille  party. 
The  invitation  was  a  month  old  ;  but  unluckily,  my  movements  in  dis- 
missal had  been  too  rapid  for  them  to  "  put  off"  their  guests.  This 
however  must  now  be  done ;  and  I  gave  them  some  invaluable  advice 
from  the  safe  distance  of  a  second-floor  window :  not  unanswered,  I 
must  allow,  by  some  indignant  spirits,  in  language  worthy  of  their 
injuries,  and  in  particular  by  one  gentleman's  gentleman,  who  acquainted 
me  that  but  for  his  despising  me,  he  should  send  a  friend  to  insist 
"  on  satisfaction/'  SENEX. 


LOVE,    LAW,    AND    PHYSIC,    IN    BARBARY. 
(From  the  recent  unpublished  Journal  of  S.  Benson,  Esq.) 

THE  greatest  and  most  visible  distinction  between  Europe  and  that 
part  of  Africa  opposite  its  coast,  consists  in  the  consideration  attached 
to  the  fair  sex,  a  distinction  which  the  stranger  who  first  sets  foot  in 
Barbary,  whilst  yet  within  sight  of  the  civilized  world,  can  scarcely 
comprehend.  Had  he  passed  through  the  dead  waters  of  Lethe,  the 
change  could  not  astonish  him  more  than  this  slight  removal  from  his 
home,  and  did  not  the  sun  here  shed  its  rays  on  him  who  saw  it 
rise  in  Europe,  he  might  fancy  he  had  passed  into  the  fabled  regions 
of  another  sphere.  The  beauty  of  the  women  of  this  country  (the 
chosen  few)  and  their  hapless  condition,  is  such  as  to  merit  our 
sincerest  pity.  The  charms  which  Nature  has  bestowed  on  them, 
instead  of  elevating  them  to  that  rank  in  society  which  they  deserve, 
has  only  marked  them  out  for  the  victims  of  the  jealous  tyranny 
of  husbands,  whose  selfishness  and  obstinacy  axe  such  that  nothing  can 
make  them  feel  or  think  the  sex  otherwise  destined,  than  to  be  sub- 
servient to  their  will  and  pleasure.  It  is  to  jealousy,  that  may  be 
ascribed  the  miserable  life  which  the  Mahommedan  women  of  Barbary 
lead ;  this  is  the  cause  of  the  ignorance  in  which  they  are  kept,  the 
masks  in  which  they  are  hid,  and  the  cages  in  which  they  are  confined. 
When  I  turn  from  the  heart-broken  heroine  of  a  modern  novel,  dying 
like  the  Sybarite  of  a  crumpled  rose-leaf,  to  these  children  of  sorrow 
and  slavery,  I  deplore  the  vitiated  taste  which  loves  to  feed  on  such 
luscious  falsehood ;— on  the  shores  of  Africa  may  be  found  sufficient 
cause  in  nature  to  excite  our  sympathy  and  regret. 


1830.]  Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary.  293 

One  fair  sample  of  these  Moorish  beauties,  I  must  be  pardoned  for 
describing :  the  very  time  at  which  she  first  met  my  sight  contributes 
to  fasten  her  image  upon  my  mind ;  it  was  the  hour  of  the  Ascha,  or 
twilight  prayer,  whilst  walking  on  the  terrace  of  my  residence  at  Algiers 
and  musing  on  the  appearance  of  that  singular  city.  The  sun  had 
just  sunk  into  the  ocean,  leaving  minaret  and  mountain  covered 
with  those  beautiful  tints  of  purple  and  gold,  so  peculiar  to  a  Mediter- 
ranean sky.  The  melancholy  but  clear  strain  of  the  Muezzin's  voice 
proclaimed  the  -hour  of  vespers  in  that  well-known  cry  of  "  La  Illaha 
Mohammed-arrasoul  Allah  !" — the  storks  had  perched  themselves  on 
their  nightly  station,  the  ruined  turrets,— and  the  Mussulmans  were 
slowly  moving  down  the  steep  descent  of  the  mountain  city  to  join  in 
the  evening  prayer.  This  is  the  hour  when,  in  Barbary,  the  females, 
who  are  not  allowed  to  walk  abroad  without  being  closely  muffled  up, 
resort  to  their  terraces  to  enjoy  the  refreshing  sunset  breeze.  The 
sight  of  a  stranger,  and  an  European  too,  at  first  seemed  embarrassing, 
and  startled  the  fair  Moriscoe,  who,  like  the  gazelle  of  her  own 
land,  stood  hesitating  whether  to  advance  or  retire.  I  was  reluc- 
tantly about  to  withdraw,  but  having  reached  the  mirador  of  my 
terrace,  she  took  courage  and  playfully  beckoned  me  to  remain.  Aware 
that  from  my  situation  I  was  unobserved  by  any  one  but  herself,  she 
shewed  how  far  she  noticed  and  sympathised  with  my  curiosity,  by 
throwing  aside  her  shawl,  and  leaving  me  to  gaze  on  a  face  and  form 
I  shall  never  forget. 

She  was  evidently  proud  of  the  impression  she  had  made,  but  it  was 
a  pardonable  vanity ;  for  her  beauty  would  have  compensated  for  a  whole 
race  of  deformity — though  it  did  not  possess  all  those  requisites  gene- 
rally esteemed  handsome  amongst  other  females.  She  was  above  the 
ordinary  height  of  woman,  and  yet  without  sacrificing  one  iota  of  her 
true  grace  of  form,  and  finely  proportioned  limbs,  so  visible  when  the 
Moorish  costume  is  disencumbered  of  the  heavy  drapery  of  the  al-haicka. 
Her  skin  was  white,  and  her  cheeks  so  beautifully  blended  with  a  rosy 
tint,  that  were  it  not  known  that  the  Barbary  women  are  fair, 
it  would  have  been  difficult  to  have  supposed  her  an  inhabitant  of 
so  warm  a  climate.  A  deep  blue  line  intersected  her  face  and  bosom  ; 
this  is  effected  by  a  liquid  dye  being  introduced  beneath  the  cuticle 
when  very  young ;  it  has  the  appearance  of  a  full  starting  vein,  and  is 
meant  to  set  off  the  complexion.  Some  ladies  cause  flowers  to  be  traced 
on  their  bodies  with  this  dye,  and  some  completely  disfigure  their 
faces  by  its  too  general  use.  The  dress  of  the  female  in  question  was 
of  blue  silk,  trimmed  with  black  braid  ;  she  wore  ear-rings,  armlets,  and 
anklets  of  silver,  and  her  totally  bared  legs  and  arms  formed  a  curious 
contrast  to  the  notions  of  costume  entertained  by  European  ladies. 

The  mind  would  willingly  attach  something  of  romance  to  so  lovely 
a  creature,  but  I  could  learn  nothing  of  her  history  beyond  her 
having  been  just  married  to  a  rich  old  Moor,  and  her  being  only 
sixteen  years  of  age.  She  was  a  slave !  yet  her  pensive  look  indi- 
cated that  she  possessed  a  soul,  although  the  Moors  will  not  believe 
in  the  possession ;  consequently  they  deny  them  the  benefits  of  edu- 
cation, or  the  taste  of  liberty ;  and  thus  their  days  pass  on  without  the 
slightest  reciprocity  of  feeling  to  alleviate  the  monotony  of  their  exis- 
tence. The  whole  life  of  a  Moorish  woman  from  infancy  to  death  may 
be  comprised  in  a  few  words.  Although  every  thing  is  hid  from  public 


294  Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary.  £SEPT. 

view,  and  information  can  only  be  obtained  by  indirect  means,  still  the 
deficiency  is  supplied  by  the  uniformity  of  the  picture ;  and  the  history  of 
a  single  one  is  a  standard  whereby  to  form  a  judgment  of  the  whole. 
In  that  which  appears  the  greatest  cruelty — the  withholding  from  them 
that  any  development  of  the  mind  could  but  awaka  them  to  a  keener 
the  benefits  of  education — there  is  certainly  the  attendant  consolation 
sense  of  their  miserable  destiny,  namely,  that  of  being  kept  as  horses  in 
a  stable  for  their  masters'  uses,  and  being  prized  by  the  same  rules,  the 
beauties  of  blood  and  limb,  the  consciousness  of  which  is  now  lost  in 
apathy  and  ignorance. 

The  Moorish  females  spring  into  womanhood  with  astonishing  rapi- 
dity ;  scarcely  do  they  leave  the  arms  of  the  mother  before  they  are  clasped 
by  those  of  the  husband.  At  twelve  or  thirteen  years  of  age,  the 
Moorish  maiden  is  a  bride  ;  at  twenty-five  an  old  woman ;  her  evanes- 
cent charms  are  then  already  on  the  wane,  and  take  a  flight  as  rapid  as 
their  coming  on.  The  thick  and  raven  tresses  of  youth  become  thinned 
and  grey ;  the  once  symmetrical  form  becomes  a  mass  of  corpulence ; 
wrinkles  furrow  the  brow,  and  notwithstanding  their  former  attractions, 
nothing  is  left  to  tell  the  beauty  of  the  broken  flower,  but  the  never- 
failing  lustre  of  the  eye,  now  set  within  a  sallow  cheek.  This  sudden 
change  is  not  difficult  to  be  accounted  for ;  they  marry  by  far  too  young. 
Were  this  not  the  case,from  the  plurality  of  wives  allowed  to  Mussulmans, 
a  population  would  be  created  much  beyond  its  actual  amount ;  whereas 
at  present  a  Mussulman  with  four  or  five  wives  has  fewer  children  than 
compose  a  single  family  in  England.  Again,  the  food  which  they  eat 
to  superinduce  corpulency,  by  no  means  strengthens  the  constitution, 
which  soon  yields  to  the  ravages  of  time  and  climate.  Such  is  the 
anxiety  of  mothers  in  Barbary  to  render  their  female  children  fat,  that 
they  stand  over  them  at  meals  with  a  stick,  and  punish  those  who  do  not 
eat  a  sufficiency  of  the  cous-cousou  set  before  them.  That  which  in 
Europe  is  termed  a  well-shaped  lady,  is  in  Barbary  compared  to 
"  the  back-bone  of  a  fish,"  and  would  be  the  very  last  to  excite  the 
favourable  regards  of  a  lover ;  whereas  a  fat  lady  who  could  scarcely 
walk,  would  need  little  recommendation  beyond  her  size. 

A  Moorish  woman  of  distinction  is  seated  all  day  long  upon  her 
carpet,  where  she  is  waited  on  by  a  number  of  little  slaves,  a  laziness 
which  also  contributes  to  render  her  unwieldy  ;  then  her  dress  does  not 
confine  any  part  of  her  form,  so  that  the  universal  al-haicka  may  be 
said  generally  to  conceal  a  much  greater  proportion  of  deformity  than 
beauty.  Such  a  thing  as  a  small  waist  or  well-turned  ancle  is  a  rare 
and  uncommon  sight. 

It  is  certainly  not  the  fault  of  the  fair  sex  in  Barbary  that  they  are 
not  better  known  to  strangers  j  fear  alone  compels  them  to  comply  with 
the  harsh  dictates  of  their  "  lords  and  masters/'  Beneath  the  ample  folds 
of  woman's  guise  has  many  a  love  affair  been  carried  on.  The  unsus- 
pecting husband,  misled  by  the  slippers*  at  the  door  of  his  wife's  apart- 
ment, has  often  turned  aside  to  make  room  for  his  disguised  rival's 
escape,  making  good  the  truth  of  the  old  axiom,  that  "  the  best  padlock 
is  that  of  the  mind."  A  Moorish  woman  will  not  make  the  slightest 
scruple  of  discovering  her  face  to  an  European,  and  exclaiming,  "  Shoof 

*  The  slippers  outside  the  apartment  denote  that  the  husband  cannot  enter  the  room, 
a  strange  female  being  present. 


1830.]  Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary.  295 

sidi,  shoof  sidi ! — Look,  Sir — look,  Sir  \"  provided  none  of  her  own 
people  are  nep.r  to  betray  her  ;  and  will  at  any  time  rather  invite  than 
repel  the  curiosity  of  a  stranger,  whose  risk  is  as  great  as  her  own  in  so 
doing,  and  who  if  detected  in  any  more  serious  offence  would  subject 
himself  to  the  penalty  of  death. 

Marriage  amongst  the  Moors  is  brought  about  by  the  intervention  of 
friends  ;  no  interview  whatever  can  take  place  previously  to  the  nuptials. 
The  good  or  bad  qualities  of  the  lady  are  explained  to  the  lover,  and 
also  her  abilities  and  personal  charms.  Love,  that  rare  ingredient  in 
Moorish  marriages,  may  sometimes  be  found  subsequent,  but  cannot  be 
known  previously  to  matrimony. 

On  the  evening  of  the  wedding  the  lady  is  placed  on  horseback,  in  an 
enclosure  which  resembles  a  large  paper  lanthorn ;  in  this  way  she  is 
paraded  through  the  streets  to  the  house  of  the  bridegroom,  by  the  male 
friends  of  both  parties.  Rude  music,  the  shouts  of  the  rabble,  and  the 
firing  of  powder,  assail  the  ears  of  the  bride,  whose  union  and  intro- 
duction to  her  husband  are  coeval. 

The  validity  of  the  marriage  contract  depends  on  the  same  proofs  as 
those  required  by  the  Levitical  law,  but  the  lady  may  be  returned  for 
less  material  defects  than  their  absence,  or  the  husband  is  at  liberty  to 
take  another  wife  if  he  please.  It  is  to  meet  the  difficulties  arising 
from  a  total  want  of  prior  acquaintance  between  the  parties,  that  the  law 
of  Mahomet  allows  a  plurality  of  wives  to  those  who  can  prove  they 
are  able  to  maintain  them.  Barrenness  is  a  ground  of  divorce,  as  like- 
wise a  repugnant  breath,  for  both  of  which  causes  women  in  Barbary 
are  often  repudiated. 

The  "  law's  delay"  was  never  yet  a  subject  of  complaint  in  the 
Barbary  States ;  here,  on  the  contrary,  it  may  be  seen  the  "  law's 
dispatch"  is  the  most  to  be  dreaded ;  a  great  inconvenience  in  criminal 
cases,  where  the  innocence  of  the  party  is  sometimes  made  manifest 
only  after  the  loss  of  a  limb  or  a  head.  The  sovereign  here  unites  in  his 
person  the  office  of  judge  and  jury;  if  human  judgment  was  less 
liable  to  error  or  the  impulse  of  passion,  perhaps  amongst  an  uncul- 
tivated people,  such  assumption  of  authority  would  be  less  objectionable  : 
but  it  is  generally  attended  with  the  worst  consequences.  Execution  of 
the  law  also  follows  so  hard  upon  the  sentence,  that  the  criminal  is 
often  hurried  from  the  presence  of  the  judge  to  suffer  its  penalty. 
Decisions  of  Moorish  law,  both  in  civil  and  religious  cases,  are  founded 
on  the  Koran.  If  litigants  are  dissatisfied  with  the  interpretation  of.  a 
cadi  or  bashaw,  they  can  appeal  to  the  emperor  or  head  of  the  govern- 
ment, who  has  power  to  revise  the  sentence  ;  but  bribery  is  sure  to 
attain  a  verdict,  from  which  there  is  no  appeal  save  in  a  counter  bribe. 

The  office  of  public  executioner  does  not  always  pertain  to  the  same 
person ;  the  prince  often  confers  this  honour  on  his  chiefs.  The  Moors 
say  it  is  honourable  "  to  use  the  arm  of  the  faithful  to  destroy  the 
unjust;"  thus  the  greatest  men  of  the  state  are  often  employed  in 
striking  off  the  heads  of  malefactors.  It  is,  in  fact,  deemed  no  bad 
qualification  to  power  to  be  a  good  headsman  ;  and  not  many  years  ago 
a  dey  of  Algiers  succeeded  to  the  throne,  merely  on"  account  of  his 
dexterity  in  taking  off  heads. 

The  chopping  off  the  hands  is  a  common  punishment  in  cases  of 
robbery  ;  the  truncated  parts  are  dipped  in  pitch  to  stop  the  bleeding, 
and  the  executioner,  with  the  utmost  sang  froid,  thrusts  the  severed 


296  Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary.  [SEPT. 

hands  into  the  culprit's  bernoos,*  bidding  him  get  out  of  the  way  to 
make  room  for  another.  Punishments  of  this  kind  may  be  considered 
strong  proofs  of  barbarism ;  but  this  reproach  will  likewise  apply  to 
Europe,  where  there  is  by  far  too  great  a  display  of  public  executions, 
a  practice  at  variance  with  our  progress  of  enlightenment  and  the 
ends  of  justice.  The  relation  of  the  sufferings  of  a  criminal  or  the 
exposure  of  a  corpse,  without  feasting  the  eyes  of  the  multitude  011 
the  convulsions  which  attend  an  exit  from  life,  would  probably  answer 
all  the  purposes  of  legislature,  and  be  just  as  effectual  a  check  on  crime. 

If  a  traveller  is  robbed  in  Barbary,  the  pacha  or'  governor  of  the 
country  in  which  he  travels,  is  bound  to  make  good  the  sum  on  proof 
of  the  value  of  the  articles  stolen.  The  pacha  has  his  remedy  against 
the  inhabitants  of  the  district,  upon  whom  he  immediately  levies  a  fine 
of  three  times  the  amount  he  is  bound  to  pay ;  this  plan  sets  the  whole 
population  at  work  to  discover  the  robber,  in  which  case  he  can  seldom 
escape.  The  Kobeyles,  a  hardy  race  of  mountaineers  in  the  kingdom 
of  Algiers,  are  proverbially  known  as  great  thieves.  A  friend  of  mine, 
during  his  residence  at  Oran,  employed  several  of  these  men  as 
servants;  to  avoid  their  depredations  he  would  not  allow  them  to 
sleep  in  his  house.  During  a  tempestuous  night,  however,  the  Kobeyles 
opened  a  mine  from  the  street  beneath  the  foundation,  a  thing  by  no 
means  difficult,  and  carried  off  a  casket  of  jewels.  Mustapha  Bey,  who 
was  then  governor  of  Oran,  having  no  clue  to  the  robbers,  levied  a  fine 
of  three  times  the  value  of  the  property  stolen,  on  the  inhabitants,  and 
likewise  flogged  the  alcaid  of  the  night-guard  naked  through  the 
streets,  bound  on  a  mule.  These  severities  led  to  the  discovery  of  a 
string  of  pearls  in  the  possession  of  a  Moorish  woman :  she  was  brought 
into  the  Bey's  presence,  and  being  reluctant  to  confess  the  manner  in 
which  she  had  obtained  them,  the  pacha  pricked  her  with  his  khanjear 
till  she  owned  she  had  purchased  them  for  a  trifle  from  the  Kobeyle 
servants.  The  jewels  were  recovered  and  the  fine  taken  off,  but  the 
Kobeyles  had  fled  to  their  mountains,  where  no  power  the  bey  possessed 
could  take  them. 

The  laws  of  the  Koran  require  "  eye  for  eye,  tooth  for  tooth,"  &c., 
which  in  case  of  any  wilful  infliction  of  injury  cannot  be  considered 
unjust ;  but  a  great  difficulty  exists  in  Barbary  regarding  the  distinction 
between  accident  and  design,  the  latter  interpretation  being  generally 
placed  on  every  act  wherein  a  foreigner  may  have  the  misfortune  to 
offend  or  harm  a  native — as  one  or  two  examples  will  sufficiently  prove. 
It  is  better,  therefore,  to  submit  to  almost  any  imposition  than  go  to 
law  with  a  Moor,  who  is  sure  to  be  protected,  to  the  certain  sacrifice  of 
the  stranger. 

An  English  merchant,  Mr.  D ,  whilst  on  a  shooting  excursion 

in  Barbary,  fired  at  a  Moor,  and  lodged  a  quantity  of  small  shot  in  one 
of  his  legs.  A  Moorish  surgeon  performed  the  operation  of  extracting 
the  shot  with  a  blunt-pointed  knife ;  this  process  inflamed  and  irritated 
the  wounds.  During  the  time  of  the  Moor's  illness,  he  was  maintained 
at  the  expense  of  Mr.  D ;  this  so  well  suited  his  taste,  that  when- 
ever he  approached  a  state  of  convalescence,  means  were  employed  to 
retard  the  cure,  which  at  last  rendered  amputation  necessary.  At  this 
crisis,  Mr.  D was  arrested  and  thrown  into  prison,  to  wait  the 

*  The  white  mantle  worn  by  the  Moors. 


1830.]  Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary.  297 

issue  of  the  disaster,  with  the  melancholy  prospect  of  losing  one  of  his 
own  legs,  or  perhaps  his  life,  in  case  the  Moor  should  die.  The  wounded 
man,  however,  recovered  at  the  expense  of  being  crippled,  and  having 

pleaded  his  inability  to  gain  a  livelihood,  Mr.  D was  obliged  to 

submit  to  the  exorbitant  demand  of  three  thousand  dollars,  to  effect  his 
liberation  from  prison. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  part  of  this  money  found  its  way  into  the 
pocket  of  the  bashaw.  Such  is  the  satisfaction  of  being  compensated 
for  any  accident  like  that  just  cited,  that  a  Moor  will  rather  place 
himself  in  the  way,  than  avokl  being  injured  by  a  person  who  can 
afford  to  pay  fcr  it.  My  own  escape  from  an  extortion  of  pretty  nearly 
the  same  nature,  will  show  that  those  cases  are  not  of  unfrequent 
occurrence  in  Barbary. 

During  my  residence  at  Tangiers,  I  was  accompanied  in  one  of  my 
accustomed  rides  by  a  person  whom  I  shall  designate  as  Geoffrey 
Gambado,  jun.  The  treat  of  riding  on  horseback  being  a  novelty  to  this 
gentleman,  his  courage  rose  above  the  level  of  his  abilities  for  managing 
the  barb  which  he,  in  his  vanity,  chose  for  the  display  of  his  eques- 
trianship.  On  arrival  at  a  sand  plain,  my  friend's  joy  burst  forth  in 
sundry  useless  checks  and  spurrings  of  his  steed,  impatient  of  which 
the  horse  dashed  forward,  heedless  of  the  cries  and  struggles  of  his 
awkward  rider  to  bring  him  to  a  halt !  A  party  of  Moorish  women  on 
their  route  to  their  gardens  were  in  the  advance,  on  coming  up  with 
whom  the  horse  stopped,  and  (least  mishap  of  all !)  laid  his  unskilful 
rider  in  the  dust !  Unfortunately  the  forehead  of  a  Moorish  girl  of  the 
party  was  grazed  by  coming  in  contact  with  the  horse.  Having  con- 
vinced myself  of  the  extent  of  the  accident,  which  proved  to  be  nothing 
more  than  a  slight  scratch,  I  recommended  Mr.  Gambado  to  open  his 
purse-strings,  as  the  best  remedy  for  healing  the  wound.  This  advice 
was,  however,  despised. 

A  telegraph  could  not  have  communicated  the  news  of  the  disaster 
to  Tangiers  quicker  than  it  reached  the  bashaw's  ears  by  means  of  the 
Arab  lazzaroni,  who,  like  their  brethren  of  Italy,  are  so  distinguish- 
edly  employed  under  every  bush  and  hedge  about  the  country  ;  nor  did 
the  story  lose  any  part  of  its  attraction  by  passing  through  their  hands, 
for  they  magnified  it  into  a  report  of  both  murder  and  violation ! 

The  first  intimation  I  received,  on  my  return,  of  the  coming  storm 
was,  the  seizure  of  the  guard  who  accompanied  me ;  this  fellow,  con- 
trary to  my  usual  custom,  I  had  picked  up  in  the  town,  without  thinking 
of  the  necessity  of  employing  an  officer  of  the  line,  whose  inalienable 
perquisites  are  the  fees  for  attending  strangers.  The  guard  was  lugged 
off  to  the  alcassaba  of  the  bashaw,  where  he  was  disburthened  of  the 
reward  of  his  day's  labour,  and  received  in  exchange  a  hundred  stripes 
on  the  feet,  to  render  him  less  nimble- footed  on  future  occasions.  The 
poor  devil  came  limping  towards  me  after  this  unkind  treatment  to  beg 
a  few  pesettas  by  way  of  consolation,  a  compliance  with  which  changed 
his  pathetic  strain  to  notes  of  gladness.  I  had  scarce  learnt  his  disgrace, 
when  I  received  an  invitation,  borne  by  a  dozen  of  the  bashaw's  body- 
guard, to  attend  at  the  alcassaba  myself. 

I  found  his  excellency  the  bashaw,  seated  on  the  ground  at  his  castle 
gate,  busied  in  giving  the  pass-word  to  the  night  patrole,  who  with 
their  cudgels  and  other  arms  were  proceeding  to  their  respective  posts 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  57.  2  P 


298  Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary. 

for  the  night.     He  was  not  long  in  acquainting  me  with  the  nature  of 
what  he  had  to  impart,  nothing  less  than  the  said  charge  of  murder  ! 

Thinking  his  excellency  laboured  under  some  delusion,  I  begged  to 
inform  him  through  an  honest  dragoman — the  same  person  who  cuts 
such  a  conspicuous  figure  in  Capt.  Beauclerk's  "  Tour  to  Morocco,"  as 
the  "  Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr.  Fox  of  the  sultan" — that  the  accident  was  for- 
tunately but  a  trifling  one ;  also,  that  I  was  not  the  precise  person  who 
had  occasioned  it.  It  was,  however,  gently  hinted  to  me,  "  that  this 
made  no  difference,  and  that  if  any  thing  happened  to  the  girl,  I  might 
prepare  for  the  worst."  As  an  especial  favour,  after  many  threats  of 
imprisonment,  I  was  allowed  to  remain  in  confinement  in  my  own 
house,  under  surveillance,  till  the  result  of  the  girl's  accident  was 
ascertained. 

I  subsequently  discovered  that  my  cunning  friend,  Gambado,  leagued 
with  the  dragoman,  had  contrived  to  shift  the  weight  of  the  offence 
upon  my  shoulders,  by  causing  the  bashaw  to  understand  that  I  was 
the  person  who  had  rode  over  the  girl,  an  imposture  I  did  not  discover 
at  the  moment.  The  farce,  however,  was  near  being  turned  into  tragedy; 
the  parents  of  the  girl,  in  order  to  extort  a  sufficient  sum  of  money,  had 
employed  means  to  aggravate  the  wound  in  the  girl's  head,  which  they 
had  caused  to  be  shaved.  Medicines  were  administered  to  her  which 
produced  violent  fever,  and  if  a  prompt  settlement  had  not  taken  place 
they  would  have  killed  her,  in  order  to  derive  a  pecuniary  benefit  from 
her  death. 

As  any  rescue  from  the  hands  of  the  Moors,  through  official  inter- 
ference (though  I  must  here  acknowledge  the  kindness  of  the  European 
consuls  at  Tangiers  in  offering  me  their  assistance),  might  have  been 
both  a  slow  and  doubtful  process,  I  preferred  the  shorter  route  of 
disengaging  myself  from  the  grasp  of  power  by  sending  for  the  worthy 
conspirators,  and  paying  the  amount  of  their  demand.  Their  meeting 
was  sufficiently  ludicrous ;  they  wept,  debated,  and  fought  with  my 
arbitrators,  and  at  last  came  to  blows.  I  was  then  assured  every  thing 
was  in  a  fair  way  of  settlement,  and  that  they  would  certainly  not  hold 
out  much  longer.  Battle  was,  in  fact,  the  signal  of  accommodation, 
the  talbs  or  scribes  were  sent  for,  and  upon  payment  of  certainly  a  less 
penalty  than  I  expected,  they  drew  up  my  release.  A  few  days  subse- 
quent to  this  arrangement,  the  young  lady  was  restored  to  perfect 
health,  and  was  able  to  walk  to  her  garden  as  well  as  ever.* 

Occurrences  like  the  foregoing  are  always  looked  upon  by  the 
authorities  in  the  light  of  business,  and  that  course  which  may  bring  a 
share  of  the  damages  to  their  own  pockets,  is  the  one  they  are  sure 
to  pursue.  Public  officers,  having  no  stated  salaries,  think  it  no  harm 

*  When  I  see  a  nation  which  has  not  the  slightest  idea  of  public  right,  or  of  the  rights 
of  man  ;  a  nation  in  which  scarcely  one  individual  in  a  thousand  knows  how  to  read  or 
write ;  a  nation  with  whom  there  is  no  guarantee  for  private  property,  and  where  the 
blood  of  man  is  ever  liable  to  be  shed  for  the  least  cause,  and  upon  the  slightest  pretext, 
without  any  form  of  trial ;  in  short,  a  nation  resolved  to  shut  its  eyes  to  the  lights  of 
reason,  and  to  repel  far  from  it  the  torch  of  civilization,  which  is  presented  to  it  in  all  its 
brilliancy,  such  will  always  be  to  me  a  nation  of  barbarians.  Let  the  individuals  who  compose 
it  wear  garments  of  silk  or  rich  pelisses ;  establish  their  own  ceremonials  ;  eat,  drink,  and 
make  a  hundred  mixtures  daily  ;  wash  and  purify  themselves  every  hour — still  I  shall 
repeat  they  are  barbarians.  There  are,  indeed,  some  few  persons  about  the  court  who 
have  learnt  the  languages  of  Europe,  and  have  secretly  adopted  its  civilization,  at  least  in 
part,  but  their  number  is  infinitely  small  compared  with  the  mass  of  the  nation. —  Vide 
AH  Bey's  Travels, 


1830.]  Love,  Law,  and  Phy sic  in  Barbary.  299 

to  make  the  worst  of  every  chance  which  comes  in  their  way,  nor  is 
the  emperor  himself  backward  in  shewing  a  bad  example. 

Sidi  Hamet  Benja,  a  Moorish  merchant,  who  died  a  few  years  back 
at  Gibraltar,  was  known  to  the  whole  mercantile  world  by  the  extent 
of  his  connections  and  his  great  riches.  This  man  the  Emperor  of  Morocco 
tried  to  destroy,  for  which  Benja  owed  him  an  eternal  hatred;  not- 
withstanding which,  his  oppressor  became  his  sole  and  universal  legatee. 

Benja  from  insignificant  beginnings  had  acquired  great  wealth,  the  fame 
of  which  soon  reached  the  sultan's  ears,  who  by  insinuations  and  flatter- 
ing messages,  induced  him  to  repair  to  the  royal  presence.  The  unsus- 
pecting merchant  proceeded  to  Barbary  ;  no  sooner  had  he  landed  there 
than  he  was  informed  by  a  friend,  of  his  having  placed  his  foot  in  the 
net;  that  the  sultan  had  given  orders  to  prevent  his  return,  and  to  send 
him  in  chains  to  Morocco,  in  case  he  did  not  proceed  voluntarily  on  his 
journey. 

This  intelligence  would  have  damped  the  spirit  of  any  one  but  a  man 
of  Benja's  presence  of  mind,  who  too  late  saw  the  folly  of  his  credulity, 
but  determined,  if  possible,  to  retrieve  his  error.  Profiting  from  the 
information  given  him,  he  resolved  to  go  boldly  forward,  feigning  an 
entire  ignorance  of  the  sultan's  intentions.  Having  caused  the  sum  of 
50,000  dollars  to  be  forwarded  to  him  from  Gibraltar,  the  money  was 
laden  on  mules,  and  placed  under  the  care  of  his  escort.  Benja  shortly 
after  knelt  in  the  royal  presence.  Previously  to  inquiring  the  nature  of 
the  sultan's  command,  he  stated  his  intention  to  withdraw  his  riches 
from  Europe,  and  to  take  up  his  residence  near  Seedna,  his  lord  and 
master,  whom  he  intended  to  constitute  his  sole  heir ;  in  token  of  this 
intention,  he  pointed  out  the  gold  which  already  awaited  the  sultan's 
acceptance,  at  the  palace  gates.  The  money  was  unladen  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  palace.  The  greedy  sultan  listened  to  the  tale  with  the 
utmost  credulity — the  chains  which  awaited  the  merchant  were  withheld. 
The  sultan,  thinking  himself  sure  of  getting  the  whole  property  into 
his  hands,  urged  Benja's  speedy  departure  to  put  his  purpose  into 
execution,  promising  him  all  sorts  of  honours  and  influence  on  his 
return. 

Benja  was  not  tardy  in  obeying  the  sultan's  commands ;  he  took  his 
leave,  but  no  sooner  was  he  out  of  the  kingdom,  than  he  acquainted 
the  sultan  of  his  knowledge  of  the  infamous  intention  to  imprison  him 
till  he  should  have  purchased  his  freedom,  and  congratulated  himself 
on  having  escaped  the  fangs  of  such  a  monster  at  so  small  a  sacrifice. 
Benja  little  intended  at  this  time  to  have  made  the  sultan  his  heir,  yet 
such  was  the  case ;  for  having  an  aversion  to  making1  a  will,  he  died 
intestate,  and  thus,  by  a  law  of  Barbary,  the  sultan  claimed  his  pro- 
perty— which  the  authorities  of  Gibraltar  found  themselves  compelled 
to  pay  into  his  hands. 

No  Moor  can  reside  out  of  his  sovereign's  dominions  without  special 
leave  :  this  was  one  of  the  flimsy  pretexts  on  which  the  sultan  intended 
to  imprison  Benja.  Where  there  are  wives  or  children,  they  are  gene- 
rally held  responsible  for  the  husband  or  father's  conduct,  and  are 
punished  in  case  of  his  disobedience  to  the  law. 

It  is  surprising  that  despotic  governments  should  find  any  advocate  ; 
yet  such  is  the  case.  A  late  tourist  has  even  held  the  government  of 
Morocco  up  to  admiration,  by  citing  cases  wherein  the  sultan's  arbitrary 
measures  have  produced  benefits,  which  even-handed  justice  never 

2  P  2 


300  Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary.  |J$EPT. 

could  have  obtained ;  but  it  would  be  far  better  that  a  few  guilty  indi- 
viduals should  escape,  than  that  one  innocent  man  should  suffer.  Some 
instances  may  be  pointed  out,  wherein  despotic  proceedings  have  been 
attended  with  good  effects ;  but  this  cannot  justify  their  general 
adoption. 

A  party  to  which  I  belonged,  in  the  eagerness  of  the  chase,  pursued 
their  game  across  a  douar  where  sporting  is  prohibited ;  this  precaution 
being  neglected,  some  of  the  sportsmen  were  surrounded  by  the  Arabs, 
who,  under  pretence  of  admiring  the  fine  detonating  locks  of  English 
guns,  relieved  one  of  my  friends  from  the  trouble  of  carrying  his  gun 
any  further.  Vexation  for  its  loss  caused  a  complaint  to  the  caid  of 
our  guard;  the  caid  applied  to  the  chief  of  the  douar.  The  Arabs 
denied  all  knowledge  of  the  theft,  which  so  enraged  the  chief,  that  he 
threatened  to  flog  the  whole  douar,  in  case  the  property  wa&  not  imme- 
diately produced.  Two  or  three  of  the  villagers  had  actually  undergone 
a  flagellation,  in  pursuance  of  the  chief's  resolve,  when  a  woman,  whose 
husband  was  next  in  turn  for  the  bastinado,  brought  forward  the  much 
wished  for  gun,  displaying  the  triumph  of  conjugal  affection  over  mer- 
cenary feeling.  Many  European  ladies  would  not  have  been  in  such 
haste  to  spare  their  husbands  a  flogging ! 

Another  case  occurs  to  my  memory  in  which  the  wielding  of  arbi- 
trary power  may  be  seen  to  all  its  disadvantage.  A  late  governor  of 
Tangier s  being  called  by  some  business  of  importance  to  the  interior, 
pitched  on  one  of  the  principal  merchants  or  shopkeepers  of  the  place  to 
govern  during  his  absence.  This  was  a  favour  from  which  the  merchant 
would  have  willingly  shrunk,  but  refusal  was  impossible.  On  the  bashaw's 
departure,  he  handed  a  list  to  his  deputy  of  the  sums  he  was  expected  to 
raise  during  his  absence.  Notwithstanding  every  possible  economy  and 
diligence,  the  period  of  the  bashaw's  return  drew  near,  the  day  of 
resignation  was  at  hand,  and  there  yet  remained  a  deficit  of  fifty  dollars 
in  the  stipulated  levies.  This,  to  a  Moor,  who  foresaw  he  would  have 
to  pay  the  deficiency  out  of  his  own  pocket,  was  no  trifling  matter,  and 
caused  serious  reflection.  In  the  midst  of  his  distress,  two  men  were 
brought  in  wounded,  who  had  quarrelled  and  fought  in  the  streets. 
This  grave  offence  required  the  infliction  of  a  heavy  penalty,  which, 
as  it  promised  to  relieve  the  deputy  governor  from  his  embarrassment, 
caused  him  no  small  joy  in  discovering  a  means  of  shifting  the  payment 
of  the  much-wanted  sum  on  the  first  aggressor.  But  in  this  case  the 
man  happened  not  to  possess  a  single  blanquillo.  Not  all  the -stripes  in 
the  world,  nor  any  means  could  be  devised  to  make  either  of  the  parties 
produce  the  lowest  copper  coin  of  the  country,  which  sum  it  turned 
out  had  been  the  cause  of  their  dispute.  The  witnesses  of  the  affray 
were  next  inquired  for,  and  on  its  being  discovered  that  a  wealthy  man 
had  accidentally  witnessed  the  quarrel,,  the  deputy  sent  for  him,  flew 
into  a  great  rage,  and  threatened  to  put  him  into  confinement  for 
remaining  a  quiet  spectator,  in  a  case  of  murder.  Inability  to  separate 
the  combatants  was  pleaded,  as  well  as  the  danger  of  their  turning 
their  knives  on  himself,  had  he  attempted  to  interfere.  Remonstrance 
was  useless,  the  crime  was  unpardonable :  "  My  friend,"  whispered  the 
deputy  governor,  "  you  had  better  pay  the  money  without  hesitation, 
for  the  bashaw  may  return  to-morrow,  and  if  he  finds  I  have  neglected 
my  duty,  he  may  be  inclined  to  make  a  governor  of  you — which  you  may 
find  a  greater  punishment  than  that  which  I  now  inflict  on  you." 


1830Q  Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary.  301 

The  study  of  medicine  is  that  which  of  all  others  is  least  cultivated 
in  Barbary,  and  yet  this  race  of  quacks  and  mountebanks  would  with 
difficulty  be  brought  to  own  their  ignorance,  or  flinch  from  undertak- 
ing the  cure  of  the  most  complicated  disease,,  although  unacquainted 
with  the  simplest  properties  of  drugs,  much  less  their  application  to  the 
infirmities  of  the  human  frame.  Happily  a  people  living  near  to  a  state 
of  nature  are  less  subject  to  maladies  than  those  who  partake  of  the  luxu- 
ries of  life ;  otherwise  their  ills  would  know  little  alleviation  from  the 
skill  of  the  physician. 

When  any  of  the  royal  family  of  Morocco  need  medical  advice,  they 
have  a  right  (I  believe,  by  treaty)  of  claiming  the  assistance  of  medical 
men  from  Gibraltar.*  In  other  parts  of  Barbary,  there  are  some  Euro- 
pean practitioners,  but  an  ugly  custom  of  making  the  physician  respon- 
sible for  the  life  of  the  patient,  has  deterred  many  from  practising  in 
these  dominions.  Temptations  have  from  time  to  time  been  held  out,  to 
induce  some  of  the  profession  to  establish  themselves  at  Morocco,  but 
no  one  has  yet  been  bold  enough  to  undertake  the  ungrateful  and  dan- 
gerous office. 

The  maladies  most  incidental  to  Barbary  are  cutaneous,  the  most 
frightful  of  which  is  the  elephantiasis,  or  swollen  leg,  supposed  by  some 
to  be  caused  by  the  waters  of  the  country.  So  burthensome  does  the 
afflicted  limb  become,  and  so  augmented  in  weight  by  the  inaction  of  a 
night's  sleep,  that  the  wretched  sufferer  with  difficulty  rises  from  his  bed. 
No  remedy  is  known  for  it,  and  all  attempts  at  cure  by  amputation  of 
the  limb  have  been  attended  with  loss  of  life. 

The  mode  which  a  native  empiric  employed  to  rid  his  patients  of  this 
complaint  shews  to  what  extent  effrontery  on  the  one  side,  and  credulity 
on  the  other,  may  reach.  Being  sent  for,  this  sorcerer,  for  I  can  call 
him  nothing  else,  advised  an  unheard-of  species  of  cauterization.  Hav- 
ing first  obtained  from  the  afflicted  man  a  written  discharge  in  case  of 
death  (a  very  necessary  document  in  this  country),  he  applied  a  log  of 
burning  wood  to  the  diseased  limb,  by  which  he  was  sufficiently  success- 
ful to  drive  the  evil  to  another  part  of  the  body.  Encouraged  by  the 
result,  he  made  a  similar  experiment  on  a  man  of  consequence,  who  died 
from  the  effects  of  the  operation.  Having  in  his  over-confidence  neg- 
lected in  this  case  to  demand  a  release,  as  before,  the  operator  was 
under  the  necessity  of  taking  to  his  heels  to  avoid  a  tragic  exit  himself, 
and  may  be  now  found  in  another  part  of  Barbary  practising  a  less  dig- 
nified calling  than  that  of  surgeon. 

Every  stranger  who  visits  Barbary  is  supposed  to  have  a  knowledge 
of  medicine ;  they  are  all  tibibs  or  doctors :  I  must  plead  guilty  to 
having  favoured  this  deception  with  regard  to  myself,  in  order  to  gain 
an  introduction  to  the  house  of  a  Moor,  which  had  nearly  cost  me 
dearer  than  I  expected. 

Sidi  Hanar,  a  Moorish  merchant  of  Tetuan,  complained  to  me  that 
his  favourite  wife  was  afflicted  with  ophthalmia,  a  disease  for  which  I 

*  The  exercise  of  this  right  has  afforded  us  some  very  irreconcileable  books  of  travels. 
Dr.  Lempriere  states  that  when  called  on  to  visit  the  ladies  of  the  harem,  he  was  neither 
allowed  to  look  at  them  nor  feel  their  pulses;  but  that  holes  were  cut  in  the  blankets 
through  which  the  ladies  thrust  their  tongues  for  examination.  A  subsequent  traveller, 
Capt.  Beauclerk,  who  accompanied  Dr.  Brown,  so  far  from  having  met  with  any  reserve 
of  this  sort,  seems  to  have  conversed  with  every  pretty  face  in  the  kingdom,  and  has 
found  no  difficulty  of  the  kind  whatever,  although  travelling  in  a  Mahommedan  country. 


302  Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary.  [SEPT. 

told  him  I  had  a  cure,  provided  he  could  introduce  me  to  the  lady.  On 
the  evening  appointed  for  my  visit,  my  friend  was  already  waiting  for 
me  at  the  door  of  his  house,  into  which  I  was  about  to  enter,  sa?isfagon, 
but  found  myself  stopped  by  his  desiring  me  to  wait  till  he  had  first 
seen  if  the  way  was  clear  :  being  satisfied  of  which,  he  returned  and 
conducted  me  to  a  room,  where  was  spread  a  repast  of  coffee,  dates,  &c. 
on  the  ground,  on  which  were  likewise  placed  two  handsome  silver- 
branched  candlesticks  with  wax  lights.  I  declined  accepting  the  substi- 
tute for  a  chair  (a  box)  which  his  kindness  had  provided,  and  accom- 
modating myself  to  the  fashion  of  the  country,  sat  down  cross-legged  on 
the  carpets,  which  I  had  no  sooner  done,  than  a  stifled  laugh  of  female 
voices  burst  forth.  On  looking  up,  I  perceived  at  a  small  grating  in  the 
wall  three  or  four  females,  who  had  evidently  been  surprised  into  this 
fit  of  mirth  by  my  awkward  accommodation  to  their  mode  of  seating 
themselves.  The  laughter  of  Sidi  H/s  wives  had  not  escaped  his  hearing, 
and  had  nearly  proved  a  disappointment  of  the  purpose  of  my  visit,  for 
seeing  that  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  ladies,  he  immediately  extin- 
guished the  lights  and  retired  from  the  room.  Loud  words  passed,  evi- 
dently the  effect  of  his  anger  at  their  imprudence :  the  affair,  however, 
ended  better  than  I  anticipated  ;  he  returned,  leading  the  lady,  who  was 
to  become  my  patient  by  the  hand,  and  having  caused  the  tapers  to  be 
re-lighted,  introduced  me  to  his  wife.  She  was  an  interesting  young 
woman,  but  from  absolute  neglect  had  nearly  lost  her  eyesight. 

By  a  little  perseverance  and  the  application  of  simple  remedies,  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  restoring  the  lady  to  the  perfect  use  of  her  optics,  though 
not  without  a  great  consumption  of  my  lotions,  the  rapidity  of  which, 
the  sequel  of  this  affair  alone  enabled  me  to  understand. 

The  husband  soon  after  the  cure,  boasted  publicly  that  his  wife,  who 
had  gone  stone  blind  from  ophthalmia,  had  been  restored  to  the  blessings 
of  sight  from  a  medicine  he  had  himself  discovered,  the  merit  of  which 
he  claimed  as  his  own.  On  hearing  this  news,  a  Moor  who  was  likewise 
afflicted  with  this  troublesome  complaint,  consented  to  pay  Sidi  H.  a 
certain  sum  to  take  his  case  in  hand,  which  he  did,  not  forgetting  the 
old  precaution  of  the  release.  At  this  juncture  the  politeness  and  friend- 
ship of  Sidi  H.  towards  me  exceeded  all  bounds ;  his  servants  were 
continually  bringing  fresh  butter,  eggs,  &c.  to  my  house,  which  in  the 
supposition  of  its  being  done  in  gratitude  for  my  services,  I  accepted.  One 
day  I  also  received  a  quantity  of  musk  cakes,  neatly  tied  up  in  an  em- 
broidered pocket  handkerchief  from  the  lady  of  Sidi  H.,  accompanied  with 
a  desire  that  previously  to  my  departure  from  Tetuan  I  should  furnish  her 
with  a  fresh  stock  of  lotions  in  case  of  a  return  of  the  complaint  during 
my  absence.  Not  having  the  requisite  medicines  in  my  possession,  I 
sent  to  express  my  regret  at  their  being  exhausted  ;  the  messenger  then 
brought  me  an  urgent  request  to  call  at  Sidi  H/s  house.  On  my  arrival 
there  I  found  him  quarrelling  with  a  Moor  who  complained  that  he  had 
been  driven  blind  by  the  washes  with  which  Sidi  H.  had  pretended  to 
cure  him  of  the  ophthalmia.  My  advice  being  asked  as  to  whether  any 
plan  could  be  devised  to  restore  the  blind  man  to  sight,  I  plainly  stated 
that  couching  alone  might  afford  him  that  chance ;  on  this  intelligence 
the  blind  man  claimed  a  return  of  the  money  he  had  paid  Sidi  H.  for  his 
cure.  The  refusal  to  do  this  was  the  cause  of  Sidi  H/s  being  cited 
before  the  Cadi,  in  whose  presence  it  was  elicited  that  Sidi  H.  had 
reserved  a  portion  of  my  lotions  for  the  double  purpose  of  profiting  by 


1830.]  Lave,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary.  303 

their  sale  in  case  they  were  found  efficacious,  and  that  of  causing  my 
punishment  if  his  wife  had  been  deprived  of  her  sight  under  my  treat- 
ment. He  had,  however,  over-reached  himself,  for  by  a  misapplication 
of  the  lotions  and  the  substitution  of  others  of  his  own  compounding, 
on  finding  I  had  no  more  to  give  away,  he  caused  the  poor  man  the 
loss  of  his  eyesight,  which  but  for  the  release  would  have  cost  Sidi  H. 
a  like  retribution ;  as  it  was,  he  was  condemned  to  return  the  money 
he  had  received,  and  compensate  the  man  in  an  extra  sum  for  the  injury 
he  had  caused. 

This  specimen  of  ungrateful  treatment  made  me  for  ever  renounce 
the  profession  of  medicine ;  on  which  subject  I  believe  there  is  but  little 
more  to  be  observed.  Male  accoucheurs  are  unknown  in  Barbary ;  this 
office  is  confided  to  women  solely,  and,  strange  to  say,  the  only  use 
known  for  a  chair  in  this  country  is,  in  case  of  accouchement. 

The  greatest  enemies  of  the  doctors  are  the  saints,  who  by  spells  and 
incantations  have  brought  medicine  into  great  contempt ;  so  much  so, 
that  the  grave  of  a  dead  saint  is  considered  more  efficacious  than  the 
advice  of  a  living  physician.  The  country  is  over-run  with  those  impos- 
tors, who  take  advantage  of  the  superstition  of  the  people  to  turn  their 
weakness  to  advantage.  They  are  worshipped  whilst  living,  and  when 
dead,  treason  itself  finds  a  refuge  at  their  sepulchre.  Idiots  are  in  the 
greatest  repute  for  this  profession ;  next  to  them,  are  those  remarkable 
for  any  great  deformity  of  person  or  hideousness  of  feature ;  qualifica- 
tions totally  different  from  those  required  to  make  a  saint  in  Europe. 
In  Barbary  they  pick  the  pockets  of  the  credulous  by  clothing  them- 
selves in  tattered  weeds,  bedabbling  their  hair  with  dirt,  allowing  their 
nails  to  grow,  and  causing  their  teeth  to  project  outwards.  The  more 
they  are  unlike  humanity,  the  more  they  are  adored.  A  maniac  is  idol- 
ized ;  and  should  all  Bedlam  be  here  let  loose,  the  people  would  imagine 
themselves  the  special  objects  of  the  favour  of  Providence.  The  profes- 
sion is  so  lucrative  that  those  who  are  no  fools  adopt  it ;  but,  if  by  accident 
they  are  found  uttering  common  sense,  they  are  punished  with  a  propor- 
tionate number  of  stripes  for  the  deception. 

A  culprit  having  fled  from  justice  took  refuge  at  the  tomb  of  a  saint, 
to  which  place  no  one  was  allowed  to  pursue  him.  A  guard,  however, 
surrounded  the  spot  to  shoot  him  if  he  attempted  to  escape,  and  to  pre- 
vent his  being  supplied  with  any  provisions.  During  the  space  of  a 
fortnight  (thus  it  is  related)  he  remained  without  the  slightest  nourish- 
ment. On  approaching  to  see  if  he  was  dead  he  was  found  in  perfect 
health.  When  asked  if  he  wanted  food  ?  he  replied  in  the  negative, 
saying,  the  saint  in  pity  to  his  innocence  had  furnished  him  with  vic- 
tuals from  the  tomb,  and  had  commanded  him  to  give  the  emperor  a  bag 
of  sequins  which  had  been  buried  in  his  grave. 

The  circumstance  was  related  to  the  sultan,  who  on  mention  of  the 
bag  of  gold  immediately  saw  the  possibility  of  the  miracle.  He  gave 
orders  for  the  culprit's  release,  who  from  that  moment  became  a  saint 
himself,  and  is  now  held  in  high  veneration.  To  relate  one-half  the 
absurdities,  of  which  the  above  is  only  an  instance,  is  perhaps 
unnecessary  evidence  of  what  may  be  readily  believed,  that  on  this  sub- 
ject the  Moors  are  the  most  credulous  people  in  the  world. 

A  Santo  or  Marabout  is  never  punished  ;  crime  loses  its  colour  when 
committed  by  one  of  their  order  :  there  are  instances  of  violation,  where 
the  complainants  have  been  told  that,  instead  of  considering  themselves 


304  Rogue-ay  taught  by  Confession.  [SEPT. 

unfortunate,  they  ought  on  the  contrary  to  deem  themselves  happy  in 
being  in  any  way  taken  notice  of  by  such  persons.  The  Moors  are 
always  emulous  of  entertaining  them  at  their  tables,  and  pay  them  well 
for  the  honour  of  their  company.  In  return  they  tell  the  fortunes  of  the 
family,  and  are  the  only  sect  allowed  to  touch  the  closely  muffled  dam- 
sel's hand,  a  difficult  book  to  read  when  not  illuminated  by  the  light  of 
the  eye ;  they  nevertheless  manage,  amidst  the  numberless  mysterious 
predictions  they  trace  along  the  blue  veins  of  the  arm,  to  say  something 
applicable  to  the  mother's  hopes  and  daughter's  wishes,  and  always  find 
a  liberal  compensation  for  the  laborious  pains  of  a  prophet's  education, 


ROGUERY    TAUGHT    BY    CONFESSION. 
BY   PETER   PINDAR,   JUN. 

A  PIOUS  OSTLER,  who  did  much  repent 
Of  all  his  sins — and  they  were  not  a  few — 

Resolved  one  day  to  give  his  conscience  vent, 
And  get  his  wicked  soul  whitewashed  anew  : 

So  rose  betimes  next  morn,  and  quickly  knelt 
Before  a  goodly  priest  with  shaven  crown, 

One  who — although  he  in  a  village  dwelt — 
Had  still  a  taste  for  all  the  tricks  of  town. 

To  him  a  free  confession  soon  he  made, 

And  boldly  vowed  he  ne'er  would  sin  again  ; 

Hoping  the  holy  sire  would  lend  his  aid, 
From  his  polluted  soul  to  wipe  the  stain. 

"  Son  !"  cried  the  Monk,  "  although  thy  crimes  are  great, 
Enough  to  damn  thy  wretched,  sinful  soul, 

Too  much  I  fear  there's  one  you  do  not  state, 
And  I,  ere  you're  absolved,  must  hear  the  whole. 

"  Say,  by  our  Lady,  did  you  ne'er,  beneath 
The  manger,  keep  some  tallow  in  a  horn  ? 

And  did  you  never  grease  a  horse's  teeth, 
To  hinder  him  from  surfeiting  on  corn  ?" 

"  No,  Father  !  no,"  he  cried  ;  "  I'm  not  involved 
In  such  a  crime ;  indeed,  I've  named  the  whole." — 

So  then  the  Priest  his  load  of  sin  absolved, 

And  home  the  Ostler  steered  with  whitewashed  soul. 

Just  six  months  after  this,  the  Ostler  came 

Again  before  the  Friar  to  confess ; 
Acknowledging  with  penitential  shame, 

His  greasing  horses'  teeth  with  great  success. 

"  Oh,  wicked  son !"  the  holy  Father  cried — 
"  Did  you  not  tell  me,  when  I  saw  you  last, 

That  you  had  never  in  your  life  applied 

Grease  to  a  horse's  teeth,  to  make  him  fast?" — 

"  Yes,  holy  Sir,  I  did,  and  then  spoke  true !" 
Replied  th«  man  of  straw,  with  utterance  quick  : 

"  For,  though  it  may  seem  rather  strange  to  you, 
/  never  then  had  heard  of  such  a  trick  /" 


1830.]  [,305     ] 


NOTES    ON    HAITI FOUR    YEARS    IN    THE    WEST    INDIES. 

"  IT  may  be  safely  assumed,  on  general  principles,  that  a  multitude 
collected  at  random  from  various  savage  nations,  and  habituated  to  no 
subordination  but  that  of  domestic  slavery,  are  totally  unfit  for  uniting 
in  the  relations  of  regular  government,  or  being  moulded  into  a  system 
of  artificial  society."  So  says  Mr.  Brougham  in  his  Colonial  Policy.  So 
might  any  one  else  have  said ;  for  the  present  condition  of  society  in 
St.  Domingo,  after  many  years  of  freedom,  and  the  result  of  all  attempts 
to  establish  good  government  and  promote  free  labour  amongst  Africans, 
without  previous  instruction  and  civilization,  fully  confirms  the  assump- 
tion. 

Had  the  aggregate  of  the  Africans,  carried  to  St.  Domingo  and  the 
other  slave  colonies,  been  taken,  even  promiscuously,  from  the  general 
mass  of  negro  barbarians,  less  coercion  would,  in  the  first  instance,  have 
been  necessary ;  and  it  would  have  been  less  difficult  to  reclaim  them, 
from  savage  and  brutal  habits.  But  when  it  is  considered  that  a  large 
proportion  of  these  people  were  "bad  subjects  of  barbarous  states 
enslaved  for  their  crimes,"  the  difficulty  of  suddenly  training  them  to 
the  habits  of  industry  and  the  blessings  of  civilization  must  be  very 
evident.  Yet  in  the  face  of  these  irrefragable  truths,  and  of  facts  which 
ought  to  have  made  every  man  cautious,  we  every  day  heard  vehement 
declamations,  from  foolish  theorists,  regarding  the  rapid  progress  of 
civilization,  and  the  happy  effects  of  free  institutions,  in  the  now  miser- 
able island  of  Haiti,  or  St.  Domingo  ! 

When  the  Code  Rural,  and  other  genuine  documents  promulgated 
there,  were  first  made  known  in  this  country,  their  authenticity  was 
impugned,  they  were  declared  spurious,  and  their  circulation  attributed 
solely  to  party  motives,  by  a  powerful  sect,  who  obstinately  persisted  in 
representing  Haiti,  not  as  it  actually  was  at  the  time,  and  still  remains 
at  the  present  moment,,  but  such  as,  to  suit  their  own  distorted  views 
of  an  important  question — it  ought,  in  their  heated  imaginations,  to  have 
been. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  troubles  in  that  unhappy  colony,  the 
population  was  composed  of  three  great  classes.  The  two  first,  pre- 
viously irritated  against  each  other,  scarcely  amounted  to  one-ninth  of 
the  whole.  The  remaining  eight  ninths  were  in  a  state  of  the  most 
brutal  abasement. 

The  best  educated  part  of  the  community,  who  were  alone  capable 
of  undertaking  and  fulfilling  the  duties  of  public  functionaries,  ceased 
to  exist  at  the  moment  of  the  establishment  of  independence  j  and  the 
attempt  to  form  a  liberal  system  of  government,  where  the  great  mass 
of  the  people  were  totally  unable  to  distinguish  between  liberty  and 
brutal  licentiousness,  was  evidently  chimerical. 

Haiti,  therefore,  although  its  institutions  are  thinly  covered  by  a  veil 
of  republicanism,  easily  seen  through  by  the  most  casual  observer — is, 
and  has,  since  the  time  of  the  massacres,  been  neither  more  nor  less 
than  a  military  aristocracy  of  the  worst  kind ;  arid  however  designing 
knaves  or  foolish  zealots  may  reject  this  view,  the  sober  minded  part  of 
the  community  will  feel  perfectly  satisfied  of  its  accuracy. 

"  Nations  as  well  as  individuals  can  acquire  maturity  only  by  imper- 

M.M.  New  Series— Vol..  X.  No.  57-  2  Q 


306  Notes  on  Haiti.  [SEPT. 

ceptible  degrees;  and   every   step   taken   must,  to  be  effectual,  be  in 
accordance  tvith  the  peculiar  character  of  the  people  to  be  improved" 

The  failure  of  all  attempts  to  force  upon  societies,  composed  of  dis- 
similar materials,  institutions  which,  in  every  other  case  have  required 
centuries  to  complete  them,  ought  accordingly  to  have  been  foreseen ; 
and  hence  such  attempts  have  completely  failed  in  St.  Domingo,  and 
have  also,  or  must  eventually  fail  in  Colombia,  Guatemala,  and  the  other 
mushroom  states  of  South  America.* 

The  conflicting  opinions  and  assertions  prevalent  in  this  country 
regarding  Haiti,  together  with  those  serious  considerations  of  sound 
policy,  which  rendered  it  necessary  to  attend  to  a  question  of  such  vital 
importance  to  the  well  being  and  proper  regulation  of  our  transatlantic 
colonies,  induced  ministers  to  adopt  measures  for  obtaining  an  accurate 
solution  of  this  important  question,  and  they  fortunately  selected  a  gen- 
tleman well  qualified  for  the  task.  His  "  Notes,"  of  which  we  shall, 
in  the  first  place,  endeavour  to  give  our  readers  some  idea,  show,  clearly, 
that  he  fulfilled  the  important  objects  of  his  mission  with  zeal,  industry, 
and  great  fidelity.  His  statements  throughout  bear  the  impress  of  truth, 
and  are  evidently  entitled  to  the  fullest  credence. 

"  On  my  going  to  Haiti  in  1826,"  says  he,  "  in  addition  to  mere  con- 
sular duties,  others  of  a  higher  nature  were  assigned  to  me ;  and  among 
these,  I  was  required  to  report  on  the  state  of  society,  and  the  actual 
condition  of  the  new  republic  in  all  its  relations :  this  was  a  task  no  less 
invidious  than  difficult ;  but  I  performed  it  with  zeal  and  to  the  best  of 
my  ability,  utterly  regardless  of  any  consideration  beyond  the  faithful 
discharge  of  my  public  duty." 

Mr.  Mackenzie  accordingly  sent  home  from  time  to  time  various 
"  reports,"  which  were  published  under  the  authority  of  government, 
and  are  remarkable  for  the  clearness  and  ability  with  which  they  are 
drawn  up.  He  has  now  favoured  us  with  a  more  detailed  account  of  his 
sojourn  in  Haiti,  wherein  he  has  endeavoured,  in  the  first  place,  to  show 
that  his  relation  is  "  founded  on  actual  inquiry  and  research ;"  and  in 
the  next,  "  to  trace  the  leading  features  of  the  origin  and  progress  of  a 
very  curious  experiment  in  the  history  of  man." 

The  first  volume  is  devoted  to  an  account  of  the  journey  made  in  pur- 
suit of  information,  and  the  second,  to  a  summary  of  the  principal  mat- 
ters of  interest,  accompanied  by  such  documents  as  may  be  illustrative 
of  particular  points.  The  works  of  Baron  Lacroix,  and  Justin's  Histoire 
d'Haiti,  corroborated  by  his  own  researches  in  the  republic,  and  assisted 
by  a  large  mass  of  Christophers  papers,  were  Mr.  Mackenzie's  principal 
guides  in  the  historical  part. 

Mr.  Mackenzie  embarked  in  the  Druid  frigate,  in  March,  1826,  and 
arrived  off  Port-au-Prince,  the  capital,  in  May  following.  "  We  ap- 
proached by  the  northern  passage,  called  St.  Mark's  Channel,  and  as 
several  hours  elapsed  after  having  been  fairly  abreast  of  the  island  of 
Gonave  before  we  anchored,  there  was  abundant  leisure  for  examining 
with  glasses  the  appearance  of  the  coast  from  Arcahai  to  the  capital. 
The  country  is  composed  of  a  beautiful  undulating  surface,  bounded  by 
a  magnificent  outline  of  mountain,  the  whole  completely  covered  with 

*  The  case  of  the  United  States  of  America  is  quite  different.  These  states  were  chiefly 
peopled  by  enlightened  Englishmen,  who  carried  with  them  a  full  knowledge  of  the  moral 
and  political  habits  and  principles  of  the  mother  country. 


1830.]  Four  Years  in  the  West  Indies.  307 

wood.  We  looked  in  vain  for  even  a  solitary  fishing  boat ;  but  no  evi- 
dence of  human  existence  presented  itself,  except  one  or  two  small 
groupes  of  people  on  the  beach  (probably  attracted  by  the  appearance 
of  a  large  frigate),  and  a  few  buildings  in  a  state  of  absolute  ruin,  which 
from  their  appearance  might  have  been  formerly  the  residence  of 
opulent  proprietors."  He  landed  at  a  miserable  wooden  pier,  and  on 
account  of  the  impassable  state  of  the  leading  streets,  the  carriage  pro- 
vided for  him  had  to  take  a  circuitous  route  to  the  palace,  where  he 
was  introduced  to  President  Boyer,  "a  little  intelligent-looking  man, 
with  very  keen  black  eyes,  which  he  whirls  about  with  extraordinary 
rapidity." 

Mr.  Mackenzie  applied  himself  till  the  month  of  February,  1827,  to 
the  acquisition  of  information  on  every  topic  of  interest,  and  to  the  per- 
formance of  those  duties  which  had  been  committed  to  his  charge.  He 
then  commenced  a  more  extended  examination  of  the  island. 

The  only  public  building  of  importance  in  Port-au-Prince  is  the 
palace ;  the  others  are  described  as  insignificant  in  appearance.  "  But 
with  almost  all  of  these  is  associated  some  scene  of  bloodshed  which  is 
quite  sickening.  It  was  in  the  front  of  the  church  that  Colonel  Mau- 
duit,  alternately  the  idol  and  the  object  of  detestation  of  the  populace, 
was  basely  murdered  by  his  own  regiment  (that  of  Port-au-Prince), 
and  his  miserable  corpse  torn  to  pieces  by  the  infuriated  rabble.  And 
in  the  opposite  direction  is  the  burying-ground,  in  which  his  faithful 
slave  deposited  his  reeking  remains,  and  then,  stretching  himself  on  the 
grave,  blew  out  his  own  brains." 

The  police  is  military,  forming  a  particular  regiment.  It  is  improved 
since  Petion's  time,  but  still  very  deficient.  There  are  chairs  or  seats 
for  sentries  on  duty,  and  hammocks  for  the  remainder  of  the  guard. 
Offences  are  principally  against  the  provisions  of  the  Code  Rural.  The 
markets  are  well  supplied  with  necessaries  j  but  house-rent  and  luxuries 
are  extravagantly  high.  Port-au-Prince  was  formerly  celebrated  for 
its  public  amusements.  There  was  nothing  of  the  kind  when  the 
consul  was  there.  The  situation  of  the  capital  is  eminently  unhealthy, 
and  destructive  to  foreigners. 

During  the  months  of  May,  June,  July,  August,  and  September,  the 
heat  is  most  intense.  The  people  seem  to  delight  in  attending  funerals. 
"  I  can  with  truth  declare,  that  all  the  invitations  I  received  for  the  first 
six  months  of  my  residence  was  to  funerals." — (p.  15.) 

Mr.  Mackenzie  attended  the  Fete  d' Agriculture ;  of  which,  and  the 
mountebank  appearance  of  the  President,  he  gives  rather  a  ludicrous 
account.  The  state  of  society  in  the  capital  is  exactly  what  might  have 
been  anticipated.  Indolence  and  inactivity  are  the  characteristics  of  the 
country.  tc  Pourquoi  mon  ami,  est-ce  que  vous  ne  courez  pas  ?"  said  the 
consul  to  a  lazy  messenger  who  had  been  sent  on  a  hasty  errand. — 
"  Nous  ne  courons  pas  dans  ce  pays-ci,"  was  the  answer.  Even  the 
dogs  and  pigs  wander  about  with  an  apathy  and  leanness  unseen  else- 
where. ' '  D — n  these  Haitians,"  said  a  caustic  fellow,  "  they  cannot 
even  fatten  a  pig  !"  Labourers  are  with  difficulty  found  at  enormously 
high  wages,  and  these  can  rarely  be  persuaded  to  work  two  weeks  con- 
tinuously. The  evils  of  this  disinclination  to  labour  press  heavily  on 
the  finances  of  the  government,  who  have  discovered  that  ff  ex  nihflo 
nihil  fit."  Hence  originated  the  Code  Rural,  the  existence  of  which  was 
so  boldly  denied  at  home.  It  provides  very  amply  for  enforcing  labour. 

2  Q  2 


308  Notes  on  Haiti.  [SEPT 

The  uncultivated  appearance  of  the  country  on  approaching  it  from  the 
sea  has  been  already  noticed.  "  The  same  character  prevails,  though 
to  a  less  extent,  on  riding  through  it ;  for  although  occasional  patches 
of  cultivation  do  present  themselves,  they  are  so  few  when  compared 
with  the  dense  masses  of  rank  natural  vegetation,  as  to  sink  into  the 
shade."  Thus,  to  a  stranger,  the  beautiful  plain  of  the  Cul-de-sac 
would  seem  to  be  an  old  forest  of  logwood  and  of  acacia ;  although 
within  the  last  thirty  years  it  was  covered  with  sugar  establishments  not 
inferior  to  any  in  the  world.  The  cultivation  of  the  sugar  cane  has 
almost  entirely  ceased  j  and  coffee  is  now  the  only  important  article  for 
exportation. 

To  resist  an  attack  of  fever,  the  consul,  in  August,  had  a  short  cruise 
in  one  of  His  Majesty's  ships,  during  which  he  visited  Cape  Nicholas 
Mole,  of  which,  and  its  vicinity,  he  gives  a  very  entertaining  account. 
Returning  to  the  capital,  he  visited  the  highlands  to  the  eastward  of  the 
city,  the  coolness  and  salubrity  of  which  are  strongly  contrasted  with 
the  pestilential  situation  of  the  former. 

In  the  beginning  of  February  he  set  out  on  a  tour  by  Leaganus,  &c., 
through  what  was  formerly  the  richest  part  of  the  country,  towards 
Cayes.  He  was  accompanied  by  several  persons  of  the  consulate,  and  a 
numerous  cavalcade  of  horses  and  mules — rendered  necessary  by  the 
impossibility  of  procuring  any  thing  on  the  road.  Along  the  road  side 
he  passed  in  confused  assemblages  the  broken  utensils  of  sugar- works, 
indicating  what  had  formerly  been. 

On  the  road  to  Grand  Goave,  there  are  considerable  marks  of  cul- 
tivation as  compared  with  the  neighbourhood  of  Port-au-Prince ; 
"  generally  speaking,  however,  every  thing  is  on  a  small  scale  when  one 
reflects  on  the  magnitude  of  the  establishments,  of  which  the  dejecta 
membra  are  profusely  scattered  on  every  road  that  I  had  previously 
passed  over.  On  the  right,  not  far  from  the  town,  lies  the  best  estate 
in  the  district,  the  property  of  a  black  officer.  This  perfection  is 
ascribed,  by  public  report,  to  the  use  of  club-law,  which  the  gallant 
colonel  is  said  to  administer  with  equal  liberality  and  success.  Among 
other  stories,  it  is  said  that  on  one  occasion  a  blow  from  a  cocomacac 
(a  heavy-jointed  cane  in  common  use  in  Haiti),  knocked  out  the  eye  of  a 
loiterer."  He  was  for  a  short  time  removed  from  his  command ;  but 
the  affairs  of  the  Commune  went  on  so  badly  during  the  absence  of 
coercion,  that  he  was  shortly  reinstated.  Petit  Goave,  now  a  Com- 
mune, was  formerly  highly  cultivated.  Its  produce  is  coffee.  The 
sugar-works  have  fallen  into  decay ;  and  in  the  absence  of  funds  and 
industry,  the  culture  of  the  cane  has  entirely  ceased. 

Count  Leaumont  and  M.  Duparc  were  formerly  rich  proprietors  in  this 
district.  At  St.  Michael,  Mr.  Mackenzie  specially  directed  his  inqui- 
ries to  the  feelings  of  the  people  on  the  changes  that  had  taken  place, 
and  to  their  present  actual  condition.  "  When  the  group  was  com- 
pleted by  the  presence  of  a  blind  black  man,  I  felt  satisfied  that  I  should 
not  be  deceived.  I  found  all  laudatores  temporis  acti,  and  all  equally 
dissatisfied.  The  whole  party  entered  into  a  feeling  and  detailed  con- 
trast of  their  present  condition,  though  free,  with  the  care  bestowed  by 
the  planters  on  their  slaves,  in  health,  in  sickness,  in  childhood,  and  in 
old  age ;  even  the  blind  beggar,  who  had  been  a  slave  of  M.  Duparc's, 
deplored  the  revolution,  to  which  he  ascribed  every  misery  that  had 
befallen  the  country  as  well  as  himself;  and  he  contended  that  had  he 


1830.]  Four  Years  in  the  West  Indies.  309 

remained  a  slave  he  would  not  have  lost  his  eyes  and  toes  ;  or  that  if  he 
had,  he  would  have  been  certain  of  kind  usage  and  support,  instead  of 
now  being  obliged  to  beg  for  a  wretched  subsistence."  Descending  from 
the  mountainous  district,  the  party,  on  the  fourth  day  of  their  journey ,. 
entered  the  beautiful  plain  of  Cayes,  bounded  by  the  sea,  on  the  verge 
of  which  the  city  stands.  The  lively  appearance  of  the  whole  is  pecu- 
liarly striking.  The  city  of  Cayes  is  described  as  infinitely  superior  to 
the  capital.  It  took  an  active  part  in  the  events  of  the  revolution ;  and 
a  strong  force  being  sent  against  it  under  Dessalines,  that  sanguinary 
monster  put  to  death  upwards  of  ten  thousand  people  of  colour,  attached 
to  the  party  of  Rigaud.  "  At  present,  Cayes  is  one  of  the  most  flourish- 
ing places  that  I  have  seen  in  the  republic.  There  is  considerable 
activity,  and  there  are  a  few  opulent  merchants,  both  natives  and 
foreigners ;  but  the  regulations  affecting  commerce  have  of  late  become 
so  oppressive,  that  many  of  the  latter  had  resolved  not  to  renew  their 
patents." 

There  is  said  to  be  an  extensive  illicit  trade  with  Jamaica  and  Cuba  ; 
and  what  strongly  evinces  the  total  destruction  of  industry,  sugar  is  the 
principal  import  from  the  latter  island.  "  The  young  part  of  the  people 
in  the  outskirts  appeared  to  me  to  spend  the  greatest  portion  of  their 
time  in  dawdling  about  without  any  apparent  objects  in  view  ;  and  the 
only  real  work  is  done  by  the  few  surviving  Africans,  who,  contrary  to 
the  habits  of  their  progeny  who  crowd  to  the  plains,  retire  to  the  moun- 
tains, where  they  cultivate  some  sequestered  spot,  unheeding,  and 
unheeded  by  the  world."  As  an  instance  of  the  complete  destruction 
of  valuable  property  which  has  attended  the  revolution,  and  the  miser- 
able condition  to  which  affairs  are  now  reduced,  we  may  state  one  of  a 
thousand  instances  : — "  I  rode  out  every  day  during  my  stay  at  Cayes, 
and  of  course  inspected  L' Habitation  Laborde,  which  I  believe  originally 
belonged  to  Count  Alexandre  Laborde.  It  has  the  reputation  of  being 
one  of  the  most  splendid  properties  in  the  colony.  Formerly,  accord- 
ing to  Moreau  St.  Mery,  there  were  on  it  one  thousand  four  hundred 
slaves,  and  1,200,000  Ibs.  of  clayed  sugar  were  produced,  besides  other 
matters.  People  of  authority  in  the  plain  assert  that  there  were  two 
thousand  slaves,  and  the  produce  2,000,000  Ibs.  of  clayed  sugar.  When 
I  visited  it,  I  found  the  walls  of  two  of  the  sugar  works  standing  ;  the 
roof  of  the  other  was  falling  in  as  fast  as  possible.  The  dwelling  houses, 
which  had  been  as  elegant  as  substantial,  entirely  built  of  stone,  were 
quite  dilapidated.  I  did  not  see  a  cane ;  and  around  a  few  miserable 
negro  huts  there  were  a  dozen  or  sixteen  labourers  hanging  about  ; 
and  I  was  told  they  merely  cultivated  provisions  for  their  own  use  !" 
At  the  estate  of  Boutilier  Mr.  Mackenzie  found  about  sixty  American 
negroes,  who  had  been  liberated  from  the  southern  states  by  a  society  of 
quakers;  although  every  person  concurred  in  representing  these  peo- 
ple as  orderly,  laborious,  and  well  conducted,  yet  each  of  them  had  some 
matter  of  personal  complaint;  and  the  general  grievances  were  per- 
fectly overwhelming.  The  whole  party  had  been  better  than  eight 
months  in  Haiti ;  they  had  nearly  enclosed  the  whole  plantation,  to  the 
proprietor  of  which,  General  Marion,  they  had  been  bound  for  a  series 
of  years,  but  had  not  yet  begun  the  cultivation  of  canes,  one-fourth  of 
the  produce  of  which  was  to  be  given  them  for  their  labour.  They 
complained  of  bad  lodgings,  and  want  of  medical  attendance  ;  but  most 
loud  was  their  denunciations  of  their  Haitian  neighbours,  whom  they 


310  Notes  on  Haiti.  [SEPT. 

described  as  destroying  their  fences  to  admit  their  bullocks  into  their 
gardens,  and  as  plundering  them  of  their  poultry  and  pigs :  so  that  it 
was  absolutely  necessary  to  keep  a  regular  guard  every  night.  All 
the  hopes  of  manufacturing  sugar  now  depend  on  the  efforts  of  these 
settlers. 

Our  limits  will  not  permit  us  to  enter  into  the  instructive  details 
respecting  the  past  and  present  state  of  industry  and  production  of  this 
interesting  part  of  the  republic,  suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  contrast  is  a 
melancholy  one. 

In  the  language  of  Mr.  Mackenzie's  informant,  "  The  very  little  field 
labour  effected  is  generally  performed  by  elderly  people,  principally  old 
Guinea  negroes.  No  measures  of  the  government  can  induce  the  young 
Creoles  to  labour,  or  depart  from  their  habitual  licentiousness  and 
vagrancy.  The  whole  body  of  proprietors  constantly  lament  the  total 
incapacity  of  the  government  to  enforce  labour/' — "  The  laws  recog- 
nize no  other  punishment  than  fine  and  imprisonment,  with  hard  labour, 
although  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  see  the  soldiery  and  military  police 
use  the  '  plat  de  sabre'  and  cocomacac,  in  a  most  arbitrary  and  some- 
times cruel  manner ;  but  almost  always,  from  the  natural  obstinacy  of  the 
negro,  without  the  intended  effect." 

"  The  few  young  females  on  plantations  seldom  assist  in  any  labour 
whatever,  but  live  in  a  constant  state  of  idleness  and  debauchery-  This  is 
tolerated  by  the  soldiery  and  military  police,  whose  licentiousness  is 
gratified  by  this  means/'  Such  is  the  demoralized  condition  at  pre- 
sent of  what  was  once  the  most  happy  and  flourishing  portion  of  St. 
Domingo. 

Returning  to  Port-au-Prince,  Mr.  Mackenzie  proposed,  during  the 
fortnight  he  remained,  to  prosecute  his  researches  into  other  parts  of  the 
island ;  but  we  can  do  little  more  than  indicate  his  route,  and  we  must 
refer  our  readers  to  the  book  itself  for  particulars. 

Although  universal  suffrage  is  the  law  of  the  state,  the  exercise  of 
this  privilege  is  overruled  or  evaded  in  the  most  gross  and  barefaced 
manner.  Insults  to  public  officers  of  friendly  powers  are  suffered  to 
go  unredressed,  and  the  open  violation  of  municipal  regulations  and 
fixed  laws  are  unnoticed  and  unpunished.  In  fact  it  is  quite  evident 
that  the  people  are  many  centuries  behind  their  nominal  institutions, 
and  are  totally  unfit  for  the  substantial  enjoyment  of  popular  rights  and 
privileges. 

On  the  14th  of  March,  Mr.  Mackenzie  embarked  for  Gonaives,  from 
whence  he  made  excursions  to  various  interesting  points.  He  after- 
wards crossed  the  high  lands  to  Cape  Haitien,  of  the  remains  of  which 
city,  and  the  state  of  society  therein,  as  compared  with  the  capital,  he 
gives  rather  a  pleasing  account. 

"  The  streets  are  spacious  and  well  paved,  and  the  houses  chiefly  of 
stone,  with  handsome  squares,  large  markets,  and  a  copious  supply  of 
water  from  fountains." 

The  public  buildings  are,  however,  in  a  ruinous  state  ;  but  "  upon  the 
whole,  the  city  is  remarkably  beautiful,  and  must  have  been,  during  its 
glory,  the  most  agreeable  residence  in  the  Western  Archipelago :  but 
now  little  more  is  to  be  seen  than  the  traces  of  former  grandeur ;  even 
in  the  Place  d'Armes,  the  handsomest  square  in  it,  some  of  the  finest 
houses  are  unroofed,  and  plantain  trees  are  growing  in  the  midst  of  the 
ruins !" 


1830.]  Four  Years  in  the  West  Indies.  311 

The  recent  death  of  Christophe,  and  the  existence  of  many  of  his 
chief  officers,  afforded  me  an  opportunity  of  making  many  researches 
into  his  personal  character,  and  the  history  of  his  reign. 

"  Henry  Christophe  was  born,  according  to  an  official  account  sanc- 
tioned by  himself,  in  the  Island  of  Granada,  in  the  year  1769,  and  came 
at  an  early  age  to  St.  Domingo.  He  was  not  a  pure  black,  but  a  sombre, 
or  griffe,  as  it  is  called.  He  was  the  slave  of  a  French  gentleman. 
He  afterwards  became  a  waiter  at  an  hotel,  then  privateer's-man,  and 
then  returned  to  an  hotel  and  gaming-house.  It  does  not  appear  that  he 
entered  the  army  ;  but,  in  1801,  he  was  general  of  brigade  and  governor 
of  the  Cape.  *  *  *  During  his  presidency,  and  the  early  part  of 
his  reign,  he  was  mild,  forbearing,  and  humane ;  but  afterwards,  his 
nature  seemed  to  have  been  completely  changed,  and  he  indulged  in 
whatever  his  uncontrolled  passions  suggested  —  and  they  suggested 
almost  every  act  that  can  violate  the  charities  of  life ;  and  as  he  pro- 
ceeded in  his  career,  he  became  suspicious  and  wantonly  cruel."*  We 
have  no  space,  however,  for  a  narrative  of  the  shocking  cruelties  prac- 
tised by  this  inhuman  monster,  who  at  the  very  period  of  these  atroci- 
ties was  lauded  by  Mr.  Wilberforce  and  the  "  saints"  of  England  as  the 
most  humane  and  pious  of  potentates ! ! ! 

Mr.  Mackenzie  visited  Sans  Souci,  formerly  the  residence  of  Chris- 
tophe, a  place  in  which  "  I  believe  for  a  time  more  unlimited  despo- 
tism had  been  exercised,  than  has  ever  prevailed  in  any  country  aspir- 
ing to  Christianity  and  civilization."  It  is  a  large  clumsy  building,  on 
the  side  of  a  mountain,  resembling  a  huge  cotton  factory.  An  interest- 
ing account  of  the  last  act  of  this  extraordinary  man  is  given,  and  of  a 
visit  made  to  La  Ferriere,  or  the  citadel,  which  was  formerly  the  depo- 
sitory of  his  treasure. 

Returning  to  the  Cape  by  a  route  which  enabled  him  to  pass  through 
what  had,  before  the  revolution,  been  one  of  the  finest  and  best  culti- 
vated districts  of  this  part  of  the  island,  he  saw  in  almost  every  direction 
ruined  buildings,  and  fields,  formerly  covered  with  canes,  now  overrun 
with  wild  guava  trees ;  and  the  same  abandonment  of  agricultural 
industry  and  destruction  of  property  which  we  have  noted  in  other 
places.  "  The  general  result  of  my  inquiries  was,  that  some  few  pro- 
perties which  were  in  activity  in  Christophe' s  time,  were  kept  up  for 
making  syrup,  which  was  mainly  converted  into  tafia."t 

Leaving  Cape  Haitien,  Mr.  Mackenzie  proceeded  towards  what  may 
still  be  considered  the  Spanish  part  of  the  island.  He  left  Port  Liberte 
on  the  17th  of  April,  and  next  day  passed  the  river  Massacre,  the 
ancient  boundary  between  the  French  and  Spanish  country. 

Travelling  as  rapidly  as  was  practicable  through  a  region  almost  in  a 
state  of  nature,  and  but  very  thinly  inhabited,  he  reached  St.  Jago,  one 
of  the  oldest  cities  of  Haiti,  on  the  22d.  It  had  been  inhumanly  plun- 
dered, and  great  part  of  it  destroyed,  in  1 805,  by  a  division  of  the  armjr 
of  Clervaux,  under  the  immediate  command  of  the  blood-thirsty  Chris- 
tophe, but  is  yet  a  fine  town,  and  situated  in  an  interesting  country. 
The  climate  is  salubrious,  and  the  population  said  to  be  increasing  with 
unexampled  rapidity.  The  state  of  society  is  superior  to  that  on  the 
French  part  of  the  island.  Mr.  Mackenzie  made  an  excursion  down, 
or  rather  over  to  Port-au- Plate,  on  the  sea  coast,  where  there  is  still 

*  VoL  I.  pp.  157  to  169.  f  Ibid-  P-  192- 


312  Notes  on  Haiti.  [SEPT. 

some  trade  in  mahogany,  although  the  place  has,  as  a  seaport,  been 
ruined  by  late  events.  The  country  towards  the  coast  is  beautiful,  but 
the  estates,  formerly  cultivated,  are,  generally  speaking,  now  in  a  «tate 
of  ruin ;  and  the  labourers,  even  those  who  had  come  as  free  settlers  from 
the  United  States,  destroyed,  or  straggling  idly  in  the  woods. 

Gold  is  found  in  the  rivers  in  the  neighbourhood  of  St.  Jago  in  con- 
siderable quantity. 

During  his  stay  at  that  place  he  heard  many  sickening  accounts  of  the 
horrid  atrocities  committed  by  the  revolutionists. 

He  proceeded  by  Lavega  through  a  country  very  thinly  inhabited, 
and  reached  the  ancient  and  interesting  city  of  St.  Domingo,  on  the  6th. 
He  was  well  received  by  General  Borgella,  the  commandant,  and  by  the 
clergy.  The  preservation,  in  some  degree,  of  the  decencies  and  usages 
of  civilized  society  in  this  part  of  the  island,  forms  a  pleasing  contrast 
to  the  brutality,  licentiousness,  and  pretensions,  prevalent  in  the  French, 
or  negro  territory ;  and  the  predictions  and  assertions  of  Us  amis  des 
noirs,  in  regard  to  the  rapid  rise  of  the  latter,  are  evidently  no  longer 
entitled  to  the  least  consideration. 

Mr.  Mackenzie  gives  a  clear  and  distinct  account  of  the  recent  events 
which  have  united  this  part  of  the  island  to  the  republic,  and  of  the 
misery  and  degradation  brought  upon  the  inhabitants  by  their  unfortu- 
nate connection  with  the  black  government. 

'.'  Their  university,  say  they,  no  longer  exists ;  the  public  schools 
are  destroyed;  and  they  insist  that  it  is  a  mockery  to  talk  of  national 
schools,  the  teachers  of  which  are  utterly  incompetent ;  but  the  greatest 
grievance  (and  it  is  a  terrible  one)  is,  that  at  the  very  age  when  their 
sons  require  the  utmost  care  of  a  parent,  they  are  bound  by  the  exist- 
ing law  to  become  soldiers,  and  to  be  initiated  into  all  the  profligacy  of 
a  guard-house,  as  privates ;  from  which  scene  of  degradation  no  merit 
can  raise  them,  while  the  son  of  the  most  worthless  chief  in  the  west  is 
at  once  raised  to  the  rank  of  an  officer.  They  complain,  too,  that  their 
morals  being  thus  corrupted,  there  is  little  chance  of  the  unfortunate 
individuals  ever  resuming  respectable  or  decent  habits  !"  These  are 
only  a  few  of  the  grievances  by  which,  owing  to  the  negro  revolution 
and  ascendancy,  the  unfortunate  Spaniards  are  afflicted  and  degraded. 

The  consul  left  St.  Domingo  on  the  24th  of  May,  and  proceeded  by 
the  coast  on  his  return  towards  Port-au-Prince.  On  the  banks  of  one 
of  the  rivers  there  was  a  large  accumulation  of  mahogany,  floated  down 
from  the  upper  country.  Foreigners  and  natives  were  collected  toge- 
ther, preparing  and  squaring  the  logs  for  shipment — the  wood  from 
this  district  being  peculiarly  prized  for  its  beauty  and  solidity. 

Proceeding  along  the  coast  to  Azua,  there  was  more  than  the  usual 
lack  of  forage  and  other  accommodations,  and  some  of  the  animals  were 
in  consequence  left  behind.  The  same  privations  continued  when  they 
proceeded  from  Azua  into  the  interior.  "  The  country  was  very  much 
like  what  I  have  so  often  mentioned,  rich,  luxuriant,  and  beautiful,  but 
wholly  neglected  by  man."  After  suffering  considerable  privations 
from  the  badness  of  the  roads,  the  weather,  and  the  total  want  of  accom- 
modation, he  on  the  5th  reached  Mirebalais,  a  town  which,  situated  in 
a  defensible  country,  seems,  unless  some  not  improbable  external  influence 
restores  the  ancient  relations  of  the  island,  intended  to  be  made  the 
capital. 

Mr.  Mackenzie  reached  his  cottage   in  the  neighbourhood  of  Port- 


1830.]  Four  Years  in  the  West  Indies.  313 

au- Prince  next  day,  and  during  the  evening  the  sorry  remnant  of  his 
horses  arrived — twelve  out  of  twenty-one  having  been  left  on  the  road. 

Before  quitting  Haiti,  he  had  an  opportunity  of  witnessing  the  execu- 
tion of  four  native  officers  for  an  alleged  conspiracy,  originating  in  the 
general  dissatisfaction  created  by  the  pressure  of  the  French  indemnity. 
Mr.  Mackenzie  deprecates  the  enforcement  by  France  of  the  payment 
of  this  indemnity  upon  an  impoverished  people  who  can  scarcely  sup- 
port themselves ;  and  justly  observes,  that  "  the  nominal  friends  of  Haiti 
in  England,  France,  and  the  United  States,  have  incurred  a  fearful 
responsibility  on  this  point — for  what  purpose  they  best  know;  they 
have  represented  the  progress  of  the  new  republic  in  the  most  glowing 
colours :  its  increasing  prosperity  has  been  so  often  asserted,  as  to 
expose  any  one  hardy  enough  to  question  it  to  the  certainty  of  attack 
and  worthless  imputation.  The  necessary  consequence  has  been,  that 
conditions  have  been  imposed  that  cannot  be  fulfilled,  and  even  if  much 
reduced,  must  check  the  improvement  of  the  country  to  an  indefinite 
period."  This  is  only  one  of  the  evils  entailed  upon  the  West  Indies, 
and  upon  negroes  in  general,  by  their  pretended  friends,  here  and  else- 
where. 

We  will  not  follow  Mr.  Mackenzie  through  his  clear  and  distinct 
historical  sketch  of  the  events  which  preceded,  and  which  have  fol- 
lowed, the  revolution ;  neither  have  we  space  to  trace  the  vacillating 
conduct  and  ignorance  of  colonial  affairs  manifested  by  the  French 
government,  which  led  to  the  first  fatal  revolt  of  the  slave  population, 
and  to  the  subsequent  cruel  massacres  perpetrated  by  them  and  their 
bloodthirsty  leaders. 

While  the  names  of  Santhonax,  Polvorel,  and  other  French  commis- 
sioners, will  long  be  remembered  in  the  West  Indies,  as  diabolical  insti- 
gators of  sanguinary  measures,  those  of  Toussant  L'Ouverture,  Dessa- 
lines,  and  Saint  Christophe,  will  no  less  stand  "  for  aye  accursed,"  as 
principal  destroyers  of  their  fellow  men ! 

Mr.  Mackenzie's  summary  of  the  matters  of  leading  interest,  and 
the  documents  by  which  it  is  supported,  are  highly  interesting. 

The  total  decay  of  commercial  prosperity  will  at  one  glance  be  mani- 
fest by  a  comparison  of  the  under-noted  exports  before  and  after  the 
revolution. 

Viz.  Clayed  sugar,  in  1789,  47,516,531  Ibs.  In  1826                 nU. 

Muscovado do 93,573,300  do 32,864  Ibs. 

Coffee do. 76,835,219  do 32,189,784 

Cotton do 7,004,374  do 620,972 

Whilst  the  industrious  habits  of  the  negroes  have  been  so  completely 
destroyed,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  their  morals  have  been  improved, 
or  that  any  degree  of  religious  feeling  has  been  preserved  among  them. 
We  accordingly  find  that  they  have,  in  general,  sunk  into  a  state  of 
gross  and  miserable  barbarism,  and  that  the  African's  practice  of  Obeah, 
and  of  other  pagan  superstitions,  are  reviving :  that  they  can  only  be 
induced  by  the  exercise  of  club-law  to  make  any  exertion  for  their  own 
benefit  or  that  of  the  state;*  that  respectable  foreigners,  even  those 
accredited  from  friendly  powers,  are  still  insulted  with  impunity :  and, 
in  short,  that  under  compulsory  and  premature  emancipation  Haiti  has 

*  Vide  the  Code  Rural,  and,  more  recently,  the  Port-au-Prince  Official  Gazettes,  where- 
in instructions  to  the  local  commandants  to  enforce  labour  are  reiterated  ! 
M.M,  New  Series VOL.  X.  No.  57.  2  R 


314  Notes  on  Haiti.  [SEPT. 

"  sunk  under  an  odious  combination  of  the  darkness,  ferocity,  vices,  and 
superstitions  of  all  colours  and  nations,  unredeemed  by  the  virtues  of 
any." 

From  this  gloomy  scene  we  turn  with  some  degree  of  satisfaction  to 
the  brighter  prospect  presented  to  us  in  the  actual  state  of  the  negroes 
in  the  British  West  Indies.  We  there  see  nearly  a  million  of  these 
people  slowly,  but  steadily,  emerging  from  a  state  of  barbarism,  and 
approximating  to  that  point  at  which  Emancipation  may  really  prove 
a  blessing,  instead  of  a  curse. 

These  feelings  are  not,  however,  unaccompanied  by  anxiety,  for  we 
perceive  that  the  artful  machinations  of  designing  men,  who  are  seconded 
by  a  numerous  band  of  interested  sectarians  and  ignorant  enthusiasts, 
are  labouring  to  destroy  all  these  fair  prospects,  and  to  expose  our  colo- 
nies, and  every  interest  connected  with  them,  to  the  most  serious  evils. 

If  under  a  premature  system  of  forced  emancipation,  accompanied  by 
the  most  horrid  massacres,  and  total  destruction  of  valuable  property, 
the  negroes  of  Haiti  (and,  we  may  add,  of  Mexico  also)  have  retro- 
graded, arid  are  now  in  a  state  of  abject  poverty,  brutal  ignorance,  and 
savage  barbarism,  how  are  similar  evils  to  be  avoided,  if  premature 
measures  are  forced  upon  our  own  colonies  ?  The  same  causes  may 
undoubtedly  produce  similar  effects ;  and  it  is  therefore  very  necessary 
to  oppose  the  reckless  efforts  of  indiscreet  zeal,  by  pointing  out  to  the 
sober  minded  and  rational  part  of  the  community  the  probable  conse- 
quences, and  the  real  merits  of  the  question. 

That  the  colonists  are  sincere  in  their  measures  of  amelioration  is  con- 
firmed by  their  public  acts,  by  the  aid  and  encouragement  they  cheer- 
fully give  to  the  established  church,  in  which  they  have  good  reason  to 
confide  rather  than  in  missionaries,  and  by  the  united  testimony  of  every 
disinterested  person  who  has  visited  the  West  Indies. 

Neither  the  declamation  and  false  colouring  of  Mr.  Brougham,  nor 
the  more  direct  calumnies  of  minor  anti-colonists,  can  alter  the  truth  of 
these  testimonies,  though  mischievous  interference  may  retard  the  pro- 
gress of  emancipation,  civilization,  and  religious  instruction. 

Mr.  Bayley,  whose  "  Four  Years  in  the  West  Indies"  is  now  before 
us,  is  another  evidence  in  favour  of  the  West  Indians. 

"  It  comes  not,"  says  he,  "  from  the  planters,  or  the  foes  of  planters, 
but  from  an  Englishman,  and  a  lover  of  liberty,  who  has  no  tie,  no 
feeling,  no  consideration  of  interest,  to  induce  him  to  advocate  the  cause 
of  the  colonies ;  but  who,  on  the  contrary,  is  prompted  by  humanity 
to  plead  in  behalf  of  those  measures  which  four  years'  experience  have 
convinced  him  would  benefit  the  slave." 

Mr.  Bayley's  narrative  contains  sketches  of  Barbadoes,  St.  Lucia,  St. 
Vincent,  Grenada,  Trinidad,  Dominica,  Martinique,  Antigua,  Anguilla, 
Barbuda,  Nevis,  and  Montserrat — some  of  them  slight,  but  all  plea- 
santly written,  and  embracing  much  useful  information  regarding  the 
present  state  of  society  in  these  islands.  "  My  readers  will  have  a 
description  of  the  towns  and  harbours,  the  mountains  and  valleys,  the 
natural  curiosities,  and  the  striking  scenery  of  these  places  from  one 
who  has  visited  them  :  they  will  learri  the  state  of  society  from  one  who 
has  mixed  in  it ;  and  the  state  of  slavery  will  be  placed  before  them  by 
one  who  has  lived  during  a  long  period  in  the  midst  of  slaves :  they  will 
see  things  as  they  are ;  and,  with  both  sides  of  the  question  before  them, 
they  will  have  an  opportunity  of  judging  for  themselves." — "  Perhaps 


1830.]  Four  Years  in  Ike  Weft  Indies.  315 

it  may  not  be  amiss  to  state  that  I  neither  have,  nor  ever  had,  any  inte- 
rest in  the  West  Indies,  except  that  naturally  arising  from  a  local  resi- 
dence in  them."  The  first  evidence  he  had  of  the  abject  condition  of 
slavery  was  in  the  behaviour  of  the  pilot  who  boarded  them  at  Barba- 
does.  He  took  possession  of  the  vessel  with  as  much  importance  as  if 
he  had  been  a  fine,  rough  old  English  seaman  bearing  up  channel ; 
inquired  for  the  ladies,  drank  their  healths ;  gave  his  orders  to  the 
crew  with  an  air  of  authority,  calling  to  the  helmsman — "  Vy  you  no 
teer  teady  ?  —  tarn  you,  Sir,  vy  you  no  teer  teady  ?"  Yet  this  man 
was  a  slave,  earning  about  twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  above  two-thirds 
of  which  he  was  allowed  to  keep  to  his  own  use.  Of  Barbadoes  and  its 
inhabitants  Mr.  Bayley  gives  a  pleasant  account.  He  remarks  of  some 
thousands  of  slaves  and  negroes  assembled  together,  that,  "could  those 
who  picture  to  themselves  this  race  of  beings  as  a  miserable,  unhappy, 
and  oppressed  people,  have  witnessed,  as  I  have  done,  thousands  of 
their  laughing  faces,  and  have  seen  their  healthy  and  contented  appear- 
ance, they  might  have  wondered  to  see  them  looking  tenfold  happier 
than  the  lower  class  of  their  own  countrymen/'  (p.  36.)  ^The  only  class 
in  which  there  are  individuals  in  a  state  of  beggary,  seem  to  be  the 
whites  and  free  negroes  ! 

On  the  subject  of  religious  instruction,  Mr.  Bayley  notices  the  dis- 
like entertained  by  the  Barbadians  of  the  missionaries.  He  justly 
remarks,  that  all  persons,  whether  missionaries  or  otherwise,  who  go  to 
the  West  Indies  with  a  view  of  imparting  Christian  knowledge  to  the 
slaves,  or  who  are  expected  to  hold  any  influence  over  their  minds, 
should  be  men  not  only  of  good  education,  but  of  sound  character  and 
judgment.  Had  this  rule  been  always  observed,  the  labours  of  the 
sectaries  never  would  have  been  objected  to  in  our  colonies.  There 
are  now,  including  all,  fifteen  or  sixteen  places  of  worship  in  Barbadoes 
—a  great  number  for  so  small  a  colony ;  and  the  bishop  deserves  every 
praise  for  his  exertions  in  propagating  the  Christian  religion  throughout 
all  the  islands. 

In  a  casual  visit  to  the  boiling-house  of  a  sugar  estate,  he  found  the 
manager  cheerfully  greeted  by,  "  How  d'ye,  massa,"  from  a  dozen 
mouths  at  once ;  but  as  a  "  new  buckra,"  Mr.  Bayley  was  good  humour- 
edly  asked  to  pay  his  footing. 

He  found  the  common  negro  houses,  consisting  of  two  rooms,  comfort- 
ably furnished.  The  house  of  one  of  the  slaves,  a  mechanic,  contained 
a  four -post  bedstead,  with  the  usual  accompaniments.  "  The  hall  was 
furnished  with  half  a  dozen  chairs  and  two  tables  ;  on  one  of  these  stood 
a  pair  of  decanters,  with  some  tumblers  and  wine  glasses,  and  about 
eight  cups  and  saucers  of  different  patterns;  while  on  a  shelf  above 
were  ranged  some  dozen  of  plates  and  dishes.  There  were  two  framed 
pictures  hanging  in  the  room,  and  many  more  without  frames,  pasted 
against  the  walls."  (p.  92.)*  The  negroes  cook  their  little  messes 
before  their  doors.  To  each  hut  is  attached  a  small  garden,  which  is 
pretty  well  cultivated :  for  the  slaves  have  always  time  to  attend  to  their 
little  portions  of  ground ;  they  grow  yams,  taniers,  plantains,  bananas, 
sweet  potatoes,  okros,  pine  apples,  and  Indian  corn ;  and  the  luxuriant 
foliage  that  shades  their  little  dwellings  from  the  sun,  usually  consists  of 

*  One  of  these  "  oppressed  slaves,"  whose  hut  he  visited,  politely  offered  him  a  glass  of 
wine  and  a  piece  of  plum-cake  ! 

2  R  2 


316  Notes  on  Haiti.  [SEPT. 

trees  that  bear  sweet  and  pleasant  fruits,  such  as  the  mango,  the  Java 
plum,  the  bread-fruit,  the  soursop,  the  sapadillo,  the  pomegranate,  and 
other  grateful  and  delicious  fruit.  Each  hut  had  its  fowls,  pigs,  and 
goats.  The  sick  house  was  a  cool,  capacious,  and  convenient  building, 
well  adapted  to  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  used — so  was  the  nursery  : 
but  we  must  refer  to  Mr.  Bayley's  book  for  minute  details.  He  devotes 
a  chapter  or  two  to  an  account  of  Codrington  College,  which  we  would 
recommend  to  the  perusal  of  the  Reverend  Daniel  Wilson,  for  the 
instruction  of  his  auditors  at  the  next  anti-slavery  meeting! 

After  visiting  St.  Lucia,  Mr.  Bayley  passed  to  the  picturesque  Island 
of  St.  Vincent.  Missionaries  are  more  tolerated  here  than  at  Barbadoes. 
"  In  their  principal  chapel,  when  a  very  forcible  and  energetic  expres- 
sion burst  from  the  lips  of  the  minister,  he  was  encouraged  by  his 
brethren  with  cries  of  '  hear,  hear  !' " — a  novel  mode  of  evincing  appro- 
bation in  a  place  sacred  to  humility  of  mind  and contrite  feelings. 

The  substitution  of  the  tread-mill  as  a  mode  o^ punishing  culprits,  in 
place  of  working  them  in  disgusting  chain-gangs,  is  a  step  towards 
improvement  in  the  police  of  Kingstown,  and  a  proof  of  right  feeling 
on  the  part  of  the  inhabitants. 

Of  the  Charaib  war,  in  1795,  he  gives  an  interesting  account.  These 
people,  to  the  number  of  4,633  men,  women,  and  children,  with  725 
brigands,  being  forced  to  surrender,  were  first  sent  to  Baliseau,  one  of 
the  Grenadines,  but  subsequently  to  the  island  of  Ruatan  in  the  Bay  of 
Honduras.  They  were  provided  with  some  arms,  utensils,  agricultural 
implements,  and  provisions  ;  but  from  indolence  and  despondency  they 
allowed  the  vessel,  which  was  left  in  their  charge,  to  sink  at  her  anchors. 
They  subsequently  passed  over  to  the  mainland,  and  having  obtained  a 
footing,  they  are  now  scattered  along  the  coast  from  Truxillo  towards 
the  Mosquito  country.* 

A  few  of  this  original  race  still  exist  in  St.  Vincent.  They  have 
become  quiet,  idle,  and  inoffensive ;  and  their  king  considers  rum  et  very 
g9od  tuff." 

The  government  of  St.  Vincent  has  done  much  for  the  amelioration 
of  their  slaves ;  their  grants  to  the  people  of  colour  have  not,  however, 
been  so  liberal  as  those  of  the  Assembly  of  Grenada :  "  but  then,  it  is 
to  be  remembered,  that  there  is  a  great  difference  between  that  class  of 
people  in  the  two  islands"  Yet  our  lawgivers  at  home  deride  or  under- 
value this  kind  of  local  knowledge,  and  would  force  the  same  legislative 
measures  upon  each  of  the  colonies,  whatever  dissimilarity  there  may 
happen  to  be  in  the  progress  of  society  !  "  Perhaps,"  says  Mr.  Bayley, 
"  order  and  regularity  are  no  where  so  well  maintained  with  little  seve- 
rity and  such  lenient  kindness  as  on  the  estate  of  a  West  India  colonist. 
I  regret  to  say  that  too  many  works  have  been  published  *  *  *  whose 
authors  have  been  misleading  the  ideas  of  their  countrymen,  by  describ- 
ing, in  forcible  and  energetic  language,  tending  to  awaken  feelings  of 
indignation,  what  the  state  of  slavery  unhappily  was,  but  what  it  has 
long  since  ceased  to  be."  And  on  the  subject  of  emancipation,  Mr. 
Bayley,  like  every  sensible  man  who  has  seen  the  colonies,  and  studied 
the  actual  habits  and  ideas  of  the  negroes,  says — cc  to  give  it  them  to-day 
will  be  adding  fuel  to  despoiling  fire — will  be  pouring  down  destruction 
upon  fair  and  fertile  lands."  He  bears  ample  testimony  to  their  present 

*  Roberts'  Central  America. 


1830.]  Four  Years  in  the  West  Indies.  317 

easy  and  contented  condition,  and  to  the  abundance  by  which  they  are 
surrounded. 

After  a  residence  of  two  years  in  St.  Vincent,  he  visited  the  equally 
beautiful  island  of  Grenada.  He  justly  attributes  the  greater  part  of 
the  deaths  among  the  sailors  and  soldiers  in  the  West  Indies  more  to  the 
grog  shops  than  to  the  climate.  "  If  Jack  goes  on  shore,  Jack  gets 
drunk ;  the  consequence  is,  Jack  gets  a  fever,  and  Jack  dies."  It  is 
equally  impossible  to  prevent  frequent  excess  and  dangerous  exposure 
amongst  the  soldiery.* 

Several  chapters  are  dedicated  to  the  subject  of  slavery.  The  ques- 
tion of  emancipation  is  discussed  in  a  sensible  and  dispassionate  manner. 
"  To  say  that  the  slaves  in  general  are  as  happy  as  the  lower  class  of 
poor  in  England  would  be  to  fix  upon  them  the  stamp  of  misery :  for 
though  there  are  those  who  would  deceive  us,  though  there  are  those 
who  would  tell  us  that  England  is  in  the  midst  of  her  prosperity,  and 
that  her  poor,  while  they  are  breathing  the  light  air  of  liberty,  are  eat- 
ing the  sweet  bread  of  joy ;  yet,  thank  Heaven,  we  have  eyes,  and  we 
have  ears,  and  while  the  former  are  open  to  the  truth,  the  latter  will  be 
closed  upon  the  deception. 

"  We  have  the  starving  at  our  doors,  and  we  see  the  hungry  and  the 
houseless  in  every  nook  and  corner  of  our  great  metropolis ;  and  if  to 
be  starving,  and  hungry,  and  houseless,  be  the  happiness  of  our  poor, 
why  then,  I  say,  to  place  this  on  a  level  with  the  slaves,  is  like  compar- 
ing the  bitter  and  unpleasant  taste  of  wormwood  to  the  sweet  and  grate- 
ful flavour  of  honey."  (p.  368.)  We  recommend  the  details  cf  the 
comforts  enjoyed  by  the  labouring  population  of  the  colonies  to  the  atten- 
tive perusal  of  those  who  have  hitherto  formed  their  opinions  upon  the 
mendacious  statements  of  the  anti-colonists  ! 

The  most  prevalent  ideas  of  the  nature  of  emancipation  entertained 
by  the  slaves  on  estates  is,  that  they  will  have  nothing  to  do — that  they 
will  have  power  over  their  present  masters — that  they  will  still  be 
allowed  to  retain  their  dwellings,  land,  and  produce,  on  their  masters' 
property ;  and  they  forget  that  their  usual  food,  clothing,  and  the  attend- 
ance of  the  physician,  would  be  immediately  withdrawn.  When  these 
things  were  explained,  "they  appeared  perfectly  astonished  and  con- 
founded at  the  information." 

Between  slaves  on  estates,  and  domestic  or  town  negroes,  Mr.  Bayley 
iraws  a  marked  distinction ;  the  former  being  in  every  respect  much 
superior,  as  a  class,  to  the  latter  j  whilst  the  emancipated  slaves  are  the 
most  degraded  of  all.  Speaking  of  their  condition,  it  is  said  that  te  the 
bodies  of  these  unfortunate  persons  cannot  be  in  a  more  lean,  wasted, 
and  emaciated  condition,  than  their  minds  are  in  a  state  of  low,  immoral, 
and  uncultivated  degradation/'  The  females,  on  the  other  hand,  "  grow 
fat  upon  the  bread  of  prostitution,  and  draw  their  finery  and  their  sup- 
port from  the  foulest  sources  of  shame,  of  infamy,  and  guilt."  When 
decrepit  old  age,  and  the  curse  of  poverty  comes  upon  them,  many  of 
them  implore  their  ancient  masters  to  receive  them  back  again  into 
servitude. 

*  "  Sangaree  da  kill  de  captain, 

Oh  lor,  he  must  die, 
New  rum  kill  de  sailor, 
Oh  lor,  he  must  die,"  &c. 


318  Notes  on  Haiti.  [SEPT. 

"  The  females  gain  by  prostitution  and  robbery  what  the  males  pro- 
cure by  robbery  alone  ;  and  for  this  reason,  we  seldom  find  either  sex 
deficient  in  articles  of  dress,  for  there  is  no  class  of  people  in  the  world 
more  vain  of  their  external  appearance,  or  more  anxious  to  adorn  their 
persons."  (p.  414.)  Such  are  the  consequences  of  premature  emanci- 
pation ! 

The  unhappiest  class  of  slaves — agricultural  or  domestic — are  those 
of  coloured  people.  It  is  too  proverbial,  "  that  there  is  no  tyrant  so 
tyrannical  as  the  tyrant  who  has  once  been  a  slave." 

Female  owners  of  this  class  are  more  cruel  than  male;  their  re- 
venge is  more  durable,  and  their  methods  of  punishing  more  refined, 
particularly  towards  slaves  of  their  own  sex  !  "  Male  or  female,  how- 
ever, such  owners  are  equally  deserving  of  censure,  and  generally  meet 
with  the  proportion  they  merit." 

Another  class  of  negroes  is  those  who  have  been  seized  and  liberated 
from  foreign  slave  ships.  These  poor  creatures  are,  by  .the  Creole  slaves, 
called,  in  derision,  "king's  niggers,"  and  " Willy- force  (Wilberforce) 
niggers" — the  proteges  of  our  English  philanthropists ! 

The  latter  are  bound  as  apprentices,  to  be  liberated  at  the  end  of 
seven  years ;  the  "  king's  niggers"  are  employed  by  government  as 
military  labourers.  Of  the  present  condition  of  these  people,  Mr.  Bay- 
ley  gives  us  the  following  melancholy  account : — "  These  beings  are 
not  only  rude  and  barbarous,  but  bad,  vicious,  and  depraved,  plunged 
into  the  lowest  state  of  moral  degradation ;  obstinate,  idle,  stupid,  igno- 
rant, and  savage,  in  fact,  hardly  above  the  condition  of  brutes.  It  seems 
impossible  to  instruct  them  or  to  make  them  work,  although  they  are 
paid  and  fed  for  it ;  they  will  not  be  led  by  gentle  means,  and  they  will 
hardly  be  driven  by  force  ;  their  feelings  appear  torpid,  and  their  affec- 
tions undeveloped;  they  seem  to  exist  in  indifference;  they  display  a 
morbid  selfishness  in  all  their  actions,  and  they  look  upon  all  around 
them,  even  their  best  friends,  with  the  dark  and  gloomy  eye  of  suspicion 
and  distrust !"  Such  is  one  of  the  results  of  an  experiment  which  has 
cost  this  country  upwards  of  seven  millions  sterling !  urged  forward 
too  by  a  set  of  people  who  are  now  not  only  pledging  themselves  to 
their  constituents  to  abolish  negro  slavery,  and  indemnify  the  planters 
for  the  loss  of  their  property,  worth,  perhaps,  one  hundred  and  fifty 
millions  sterling,  but  also,  and  in  the  same  breath,  binding  themselves 
to  reduce  taxation  ! 

The  contempt  with  which  the  Creole  slaves  in  general  regard  these 
liberated  negroes,  and  the  sense  they  entertain  of  their  own  superiority, 
comfortable  situation,  and  acquirements,  is  manifested  in  a  variety  of 
manners.  One  of  their  songs  (for  they  not  only  have  songs,  but 
actually  sing  them  too — aye,  and  dance  quadrilles  likewise,  whatever 
Mr.  Buxton  and  others  may  say  to  the  contrary)  is  a  kind  of  parody 
on  "  I'd  be  a  butterfly,"  and  runs  thus — 

"  Willy-force  nigger,  he  belly  da  empty, 

He  nab  de  freedom,  dat  no  good  for  me ; 
My  massa,  good  man,  he  gib  me  plenty, 
Me  no  lobe  Willy-force  better  dan  he. 
Me  be  a  nigger  boy, 
Me  be  a  nigger  boy. 
Me  happy  fellow,  den  why  me  want  free  ?" 


1830.]  Four  Years  in  the  West  Indies.  319 

"  You  curse  me  !"  said  a  young  slave  to  a  free  African,  "eh  ! — you 
curse  me !  you  dam  Guinea  nigger  !  you  Willy-force  congo !"  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  "  I  make  you  sabe  how  for  curse  me  !" 

Our  limits  will  not  admit  of  further  illustrations  of  this  subject  at 
present. 

We  recommend  Mr.  Bayley's  book,  and  Mr.  Mackenzie's  valuable 
"  Notes/'  to  the  perusal  of  every  person  interested  in  the  West  India 
question  ; — and  who  is  there  in  this  country  that  is  not  deeply  interested  ? 
We  have  now  several  histories  of  Jamaica  and  St.  Domingo;  and 
although  Mr.  Bayley's  "  Four  Years'  Residence/'  cannot  be  considered 
a  history  of  the  Leeward  Islands,  it  nevertheless  gives  a  good  account  of 
many  of  them;  and  its  geographical,  geological,  and  chronological 
appendix  will  be  found  equally  useful  and  entertaining. 

We  cannot  conclude  this  article  better  than  by  an  extract  from  the 
work  before  us.  "  Oh  ye,  whose  hearts  are  bent  upon  doing  good,  ye 
whose  motives  are  pure  and  unsophisticated,  ye  who  would  relieve  real 
misery,  ye  who  would  pour  a  balm  to  close  the  wounds  of  hearts  that 
have  been  crushed,  and  spirits  broken  by  the  curse  of  poverty  and  want; 
ye  who  would  have  mothers  bless,  and  children  pray  for  you,  turn  not 
your  hearts  to  the  emancipation  of  negroes,  but  look  rather  to  the  eman- 
cipation from  their  woes  of  such  of  your  own  countrymen  as  are  oppressed 
with  the  horrors  of  poverty,  or  the  miseries  of  disease ;  of  those  who  know 
what  it  is  to  be  poor  in  the  midst  of  wealth,  and  famishing  in  the  midst 
of  plenty.  The  slaves,  although  in  a  degraded  state,  are  not  yet  suf- 
ficiently capable  of  feeling  their  degradation ;  as  they  are  well  treated, 
they  are  for  the  most  part  happy  and  contented ;  at  any  rate  their 
wants  are  supplied ;  they  have  food  for  their  bodies,  and  covering  for 
their  heads.  But  there  are  Englishmen,  free-born  Englishmen,  who 
have  starving  wives  and  starving  families,  with  no  food  but  their 
miseries,  no  bed  but  the  cold  earth,  no  covering  but  the  canopy  of 
heaven ;  first,  then,  look  to  such  as  these,  and  extend  to  them  humanity 
and  relief:  for  what  think  ye  of  the  charity  of  that  man  who  would 
snatch  their  last  morsel  from  the  mouths  of  his  own  children  to  bestow 
it  on  the  offspring  of  a  stranger/' 


SONNET  :     ON    SEEING    ETON    COLLEGE. 

WITH  a  familiar,  but  delighted  awe, 

I  first  beheld  thy  Spires,  time-tinted  Pile  ; 

And  moved  along  thy  worn  and  shadowy  aisle 

In  thoughtful  joy  ;  yet  not  that  there  I  saw 

Learning's  fair  fount — the  cradle  of  old  Law — 

The  spring  whence  Science,  like  another  Nile, 

Came  glistening  forth  through  many  a  dark  defile — 

Where  Critics  grew,  whose  eyes  would  find  a  flaw 

In  perfect  Nature: — Not,  that  gentle  day, 

On  these  my  spirit's  incense  was  bestowed : — 

But  on  thy  line  and  life,  accomplished  GRAY  ! 

On  thy  true  Elegy,  and  touching  Ode. 

From  thee,  and  from  the  music  of  thy  lay, 

That  filled  the  scene,  its  fine  enchantment  flowed. 

B. 


[    320    ]  [SEPT. 

AN  AQUATIC  PASTORAL  ;  A  TALE  OF  THE  THAMES. 
BY  A  COCKNEY. 

THE  tide  was  fair  and  flowing, 

All  rippling  gold  and  pearls, 
And  we,  to  Twickenham  going — 

Engaged  a  boat  from  Searle  a. 

The  waves  beneath  were  clear, 

And  the  sun  was  overhead  ; 
'T  would  have  done  you  good  to  hear 

All  the  drolleries  we  said. 

We  pulled  away  with  glee, 

Our  wit  was  on  the  flow. 
And,  like  happy  herrings,  we 

Were  enraptured  with  our  row. 

Thus  o'er  our  little  bark 

No  tempest  seemed  to  wait ; 
For  we  meant  to  have  a  "  lark," 

Though  it  were  "  at  heaven's  gate." 

And  thus  we  found,  like  Pucks, 

The  flowers  that  fancy  culls  ; 
And  soon  rivalled  little  ducks, 

In  feathering  our  skulls. 

But  when,  with  wearied  wing, 

At  length  we  wished  to  land, 
Methought  that  I  could  spring 

From  the  skiff  upon  the  strand. 

So  waves  and  wisdom  spurning, 

I  stood  upon  the  seat, 
And  my  head  was  almost  turning 

When  I  thought  upon  my  feat. 

I  looked  upon  the  flood, 

But  the  boat  began  to  reel ; 
So  I  slipped— and  in  the  mud 

Lay  embedded  like  an  eel. 

Some  poles  were  near,  defining 

The  boundaries  of  the  stream  ; 
And  I  struck — the  sun  was  shining — 

My  head  against  a  beam  ! 

But  a  crowd  soon  drew  about, 

Attracted  by  the  din  ; 
So  divers  drew  me  out, 

And  then  bore  me  to  an  inn. 

To  a  girl  who  brought  me  brandy, 

And  laughed  to  see  me  shiver, 
I  said — "  This  house  is  handy 

For  tumblers  in  the  river  ; 

They're  often  brought  in  here  ?" — 

"  Oh  !  yes,  sir  ;  and  with  reason  ; 
There's  thousands  in  a  year — 

But  you're  early  in  the  season  !" 

"  This  girl,"  thought  I,  "  has  stumbled 

Upon  the  very  thing ; 
For  I  never  should  have  tumbled 

But  in  a  backward  Spring  /"  B. 


1830.]  [    321     ] 

SIR  JOHN  DE  BULL.* 

IT  is  with  great  pleasure  that  we  are  enabled  to  devote  a  few  pages  to 
this  interesting  little  work,  and  to  call  the  attention  of  the  public  to  the 
very  meritorious  purpose  for  which  it  is  published.  Of  its  literary 
merits  we  shall  not  speak  at  present ;  although  our  readers  will  see  from 
the  quotations  we  shall  make,  that  these  are  of  no  mean  order — but  proceed 
at  once  to  explain  the  circumstances  which  led  to  the  discovery  of  the 
original  MS.,  and  to  its  being  now  found  in  the  possession  of  the  inge- 
nious translator.  We  cannot  do  this  better  than  by  quoting  a  part  of 
the  preface. 

"  I  was  returning,  a  few  months  ago,  from  my  friend the 

bookseller,  (where  I  had  been  reading  an  evening  paper,  and  discussing 
the  news  of  the  day  with  a  few  loiterers  like  myself,)  when  I  perceived 
that  I  was  followed,  or  rather  dogged,  by  a  shabby-genteel  sort  of  per- 
sonage, in  an  old,  worn-out,  military  surtout.  I  was,  I  must  confess, 
rather  alarmed ;  and  the  more  so,  when  I  arrived  at  my  own  door,  and 
found  the  fellow  close  at  my  heels.  As  I  saw  that  I  could  not  escape 
him,  I  had  no  alternative  but  to  put  on  a  c  swashing  and  a  martial  out- 
side,' and  when  my  pertinacious  follower  came  up,  and  saluted  me,  I 
was  very  surly  in  my  reply.  He  was  evidently  hurt  by  my  manner, 
and,  making  a  low  bow,  was  about  to  pass  on  ;  but  the  air  of  deep 
dejection  visible  in  his  face  awoke  my  compunction,  and  I  begged  him 
to  stay  and  acquaint  me  with  his  business.  We  retired,  after  a  few 
words,  into  my  parlour,  when  he  entered  into  the  purpose  of  his  visit, 
which  I  shall  relate. 

"  He  was  a  clerk  in  one  of  the  public  offices  (I  don't  mention 
which,  for  sufficient  reasons)  ;  had  been  a  soldier,  and  was  placed  there 
when  his  services  were  dispensed  with,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  war. 
His  salary  was  just  sufficient  to  keep  life  in ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  had 
been  reduced  by  our  frugal  ministry,  into  a  mere  pittance.  He  pulled 
out  of  his  pocket  a  very  dusty-looking  manuscript,  and  handed  it  to  me 
for  perusal.  It  was  in  Latin;  and  he  stated  that  he  had  found  it 
amongst  some  state  papers,  (as  Milton's  treatise  was  found,  a  few  years 
ago,)  and  had  brought  it  to  me,  as  a  literary  man,  hoping  that  I  would 
buy  it  of  him.  I  hinted  a  doubt  of  the  honesty  of  the  transaction ;  but 
he  pointed  to  the  elbows  of  his  tattered  coat,  and  that  settled  the  ques- 
tion. I  have  no  doubt  that  if  the  manuscript  had  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  higher  powers  they  would  have  acted  in  a  similar  manner ;  and, 
consequently,  I  have  promised  that  the  poor  fellow  shall  have  the  pro- 
duce of  the  publication,  reserving  to  myself  the  satisfaction  of  having 
done  a  service  to  a  starving  fellow-creature,  as  well  as  to  the  literary 
world." 

A  work  thus  introduced  cannot,  we  think,  fail  of  success — especially 
as  its  literary  merits  are  far  from  contemptible.  Our  author's  style  is 
without  pretension  to  eloquence;  but  it  is  generally  correct;  and  his 
pictures  of  men  and  manners  are  just  and  forcible.  Some  of  his  epithets, 
however,  might  have  been  improved,  or  something  more  gentle  substituted 
for  them,  without  weakening  the  point  of  his  satire.  We  hope  he  will 
attend  to  this  in  his  next  edition.  We  select  the  opening  stanzas  for 

*  A  Poem,  translated  from  the  Latin  by  Jerome  Sandford,  Esq.  8vo.  Hazard  and  Co., 
Piccadilly. 

M  .M.  New  Series.^Voj..  X.  No.  57-  2  S 


322  Sir  John  de  Bull.  [SEPT. 

quotation,  as  a  fair  specimen  of  the  whole,  from  which  our  readers  will 
judge  of  the  correctness  of  the  opinion  expressed  above. 


ff  In  days  of  yore,  that  is  some  time  ago: 


(I'm  not  obliged  to  be  correct  in  dates, 

They  mar  the  beauty  of  a  story  so,) 

There  lived  a  knight,  endowed  by  lucky  fates 

With  every  blessing  that  on  earth  we  know. 

Our  learned  author  but  insinuates 

The  country  where  he  dwelt — I'll  do  the  same, 

And  merely  hint,  and  hint — then  tell  his  name. 

'Twas  Bull— Sir  John  de  Bull— he  calls  him  Taurus, 

Which  I  must  take  the  liberty  this  time 

To  change,  for  such  an  uncouth  word  would  bore  us ; 

My  verse  depends  so  very  much  on  chime 

And  jingle  :  so  I've  looked  into  Thesaurus, 

And  chosen  the  above,  because  'twill  rhyme 

To  gull,  and  better  still  to  pull  and  full — 

Words  very  apropos  to  John  de  Bull. 

Sir  John  was  fully  stored  with  everything, 

With  speeches,  stocks,  close-boroughs,  banks,  and  fame. 

He  had  a  temper  rather  blustering — 

In  fact,  'twas  savage,  as  perhaps  his  name 

May  seem  to  signify ;  but  time  doth  bring 

All  worth  to  emptiness  ;  and  how  it  came 

That  John  was  blinded  by  enchanters  fell, 

Was  gulled,  and  starved,  and  tamed — this  tale  doth  tell. 

Sir  John  was  full,  I've  said;  his  pockets  lined, 
And,  most  of  all,  his  belly,  which  was  round, 
With  sack  and  capon.     Heartily  he  dined 
And  drank ;  and  in  his  cellar  did  abound 
Right  potent  stuff.     Some  said  that  he  inclined 
To  corpulence ;  but  yet  his  frame  was  sound ; 
His  eye  was  bold  and  noble  ;  and  his  heart, 
All  men  well  knew  'twas  in  the  proper  part. 

When  seated  at  his  table  with  a  friend, 

John  was  a  pattern  of  conviviality ; 

His  face  was  open,  as  if  Nature  penned 

Upon  its  features  bluff  each  quality 

Which  he  inherited,  and  loved  to  blend 

The  traits  of  strength  and  power  with  comicality  ; 

For*  when  he  laughed,  his  huge  cheeks,  wrinkling,  spoke 

A  mountain  labouring  to  produce  a  joke. 

Another  man  was  he  when  in  his  ire  ; 

(Woe  to  the  luckless  wight  who  moved  him  so  !) 

His  wrath,  in  sooth,  was  a  volcanic  fire — 

Sudden  and  fierce — a  word,  and  then  a  blow  ! 

He  had  no  middle  course,  no  tame  desire 

To  be  that  grave,  cold  thing — half  friend,  half  foe. 

He'd  but  two  moods — a  laugh,  or  frown  terrific  ; 

As  for  his  gravity,  'twas  all  specific. 

Thus  John  lived  on,  and  stronger  grew  and  fatter ; 
And  as  his  size  increased  so  did  his  coat, 
Which  was,  I  think,  of  broad-cloth ;  but  no  matter. 
He  wore  top-boots ;  (our  author  does  not  note 


1830.]  Sir  John  de  Bull.  323 

What  was  the  shape  and  colour  of  his  hat,  or 
The  fashion  of  his  breeches — well,  I  wot, 
The  latter  must  have  been,  indeed,  capacious, 
Seeing  our  knight's  dimensions  were  so  spacious). 

He  kept  a  host  of  servants,— more,  perhaps, 
Than  he  had  any  need  of— grooms  and  pages, 
And  women,  with  their  weans  upon  their  laps 
Crying  for  spoonmeat, — scullions  of  all  ages  ; 
Some  gaping  hungrily  for  broken  scraps  ; 
And  some  for  nicer  picking,  and  their  wages 
In  good  hard  cash ;  and  some  old  women  vain, 
Who  dozed ,  and  curled  their  wigs,  then — dozed  again." 

Our  good  knight's  household  seems  to  have  been  rather  heterogeneous 
in  its  arrangements.  Of  what  earthly  use. could  all  those  women  and 
weans  be,  but  to  consume  his  substance,  and,  worse  than  all,  his  patience 
and  his  temper  ?  We  cannot,  however,  avoid  noticing  the  harmless 
nature  of  his  fc  old  women  vain,"  and  comparing  them  with  the  same 
species  in  our  own  days.  Would  that  they  had  no  more  dangerous 
employment  than  "  dozing  and  curling  their  wigs ;"  that  they  had  not 
such  an  antipathy  to  dust,  such  a  desire  for  prying  into  lumber- closets, 
and  such  a  mania  for  interfering  with  the  Press  !  Heaven  and  earth, 
what  a  clatter  amongst  the  china  and  glasses  !  A  poor  fly  has  presumed 
to  come  too  near  the  sugar-basin.  Up  goes  the  Scarlet-duster*  and  the 
insect  is  annihilated ! 

"  Tantaene  animis  celestibus  irse  ?" 

We  resume  our  quotation. — 

"  I  shall  not  tell  the  names  of  all  this  host ; 
(In  truth  'twould  be  a  very  tedious  job :) 
Each  servant  had  his  own  especial  post ; 
The  buttery,  the  larder,  kitchen  hob, 
And  eke  the  cellar.     Those  John  prided  most 
Were  valiant  Dogberry  and  Trimming  Sob — 
Fi-Fum,  from  Aberdeen,  and  Massa  Mungo — 
All  honest  men — '  sed  intervallo  longo.' 

Our  author's  description  of  those  worthies  is  somewhat  too  long  for 
quotation  within  the  limits  which  we  can  allow  for  this  article.  The 
great  "  captain  of  the  watch,"  whom  Shakspeare  describes,  is  altogether 
a  more  amusing  character  than  the  "  valiant  Dogberry''  described  here. 
His  absurdities  are  more  innocent,  and  contain  more  naivete.  However, 
we  think,  that  if  Shakspeare  had  been  "mad"  enough  to  imagine  such 
a  character  as  "  Dogberry  in  power" — qfficio — he  would  have  painted 
him  much  in  the  same  style  as  the  present  author  has  done. 

Trimming  Bob— as  his  name  implies — was  a  shifty  sort  of  personage, 
who  could  see  a  coining  wind,  (as  pigs  are  said  to  do  in  Yorkshire,)  and 
always  managed  to  change  his  position  accordingly.  He  once  left  his 
master's  service,  upon  some  point  of  principle,  but  soon  returned,  having 

*  Some  pluckless  people,  who  are  fond  of  finding  out  meanings  where  they  do  not  exist, 
may  imagine  that  we  allude  here  to  our  worthy  Attorney-Greneral ;  but  we  can  prove  to  a 
demonstration,  that  they  are  quite  at  fault.  It  is  an  axiom  of  toothless  old  women,  that 
their  bark  is  worse  than  their  bite  ;  Sir  James's  bark  and  bite  are  equally  bad : — ergot  Sir 
James  is  not  an  old  woman. — Q.  E.  D. 

2  S  2 


324  Sir  John  de  Bull  [SEPT. 

weighed  matters  more  properly ;   for,  as  our  author  justly  observes, 
"  what  is  principle,  compared  with 

tf  A  place,  good  wages,  and  a  well-filled  platter  ? 
Nothing,  Bob  thought,  and  so  he  chose  the  latter." 

The  other  two  characters  have,  in  truth,  no  character  at  all ;  and  for 
this  very  reason,  we  suppose,  they  were  chosen  by  the  worthy  Dogberry, 
who  followed  the  example  of  his  great  prototype  when  selecting  "  the 
most  desartless  man  to  be  constable." 

"  Fi-fum,  from  Aberdeen" — but  we  will  not  describe  him,  lest  a  noble 
countryman  of  his  should  imagine  that  we  meant  to  insinuate  a  tie  of 
ancestry  between  the  two — whereas  nothing  can  be  further  from  our 
intention.  Massa  Mungo  was  an  elephant-drivei  in  India,  but  dis- 
charged for  puppyism  and  incapacity.  How  he  came  into  the  knight's 
service,  we  are  not  told — most  likely,  smuggled.  He  was  a  buck,  it 
seems,  and  possessed  some  personal  charms ;  for  our  author  sums  up 
his  character  in  the  following  two  lines,  which  we  must  quote  merely  to 
notice  a  false  quantity  which  the  rhyme  has  led  him  into  :— 

<c  '  Oh,  quanta  species,'  (sententia  Phoedrum, 
Pro  hac  vides,)  '  sed  non  habet  cerebrum.' " 

The  second  syllable  in  "  cerebrum"  is  short. 

But  we  must  hasten  to  the  conclusion  of  this  eventful  history,  and  we 
cannot  but  admire  the  talent  with  which  this  part  of  it  is  written.  By 
the  folly  and  knavery  of  his  servants,  by  his  strange  temper  being 
humoured,  his  feelings  led  astray,  and  his  capacity  for  being  gulled 
(which  was  immense)  being  worked  upon,  he  is  reduced  to  a  situation 
only  inferior  in  wretchedness  to  that  of  the  (C  Malade  Imaginaire"  of  the 
French  comedian.  "  His  skin,  like  a  lady's  loose  gown,  hangs  about 
him,"  his  arm  of  strength  is  paralyzed,  and  his  blustering  voice  becomes 
a  pitiful  whine,  like  that  of  a  sick  child.  At  length,  the  majestic  figure 
is  laid  up,  like  the  huge  hulk  of  an  East  Indiaman,  whilst  Dogberry  and 
Bob,  like  two  nightmares,  sit  upon  his  lower  extremities,  and  a  multi- 
tude of  old  women  flutter  and  mumble  around  him,  "frighting  his  ear 
with  bombast,"  and  drenching  his  stomach  with  slops  and  miserable 
small  beer.  His  neighbours  too — ("  this  was  the  unkindest  cut  of  all") 
his  neighbours  insult  him  in  his  calamities,  trample  his  fences,  poach 
upon  his  manors,  and  his  remonstrances  are  unheeded ;  for  a  rumour 
has  gone  abroad — "  Sir  John  can't  fight."  Time  was,  when  a  word 
from  the  knight  was  omnipotent — because  his  blow  was  sure  to  follow. 
Now,  ( '  he  must  not  use  threatening  language  ;  because  he  would,  per- 
haps, be  obliged  to  go  to  war  to  maintain  it."*  He  must  be  gentle  as 
a  ladybird,  use  drawing-room  phrases,  and  mince  in  his  gait  like  a 
court-beau  in  pea-green  taffeta.  He  must  simper  out,  "  Sir  John  can't 
fight,  therefore  he  hopes/'  &c.  The  duties  of  forbearance  are  preached 
in  his  ear,  as  those  which  alone  suit  his  reduced  condition;  and  his 
eager  exclamation — "  Let  me  beat  the  rascal !" — is  answered  by  an  omin- 

*  We  have  to  acknowledge  an  obligation  to  Sir  Robert  Peel  for  this  little  piece  of 
reasoning,  which  we  have  quoted  literally  from  a  late  speech  of  his  on  the  subject  of  our 
foieign  policy.  Souls  of  Pitt,  Castlereagh,  and  Canning,  how  very  far  were  ye  above  the 
thought,  much  less  the  utterance,  of  such  a  thought  as  this  !  If  any  earthly  voice  may 
break  the  sleep  of  the  dead,  Sir  Robert's  speech  on  that  occasion  might  awake  you  to  look 
down  upon  the  infamy  of  England — horresco  referens! ! 


1830.]  Sir  John  de  Bull.  325 

ous  shake  from  knowing  heads,  and  a  reference  to  his  pulse,  his  purse, 
and  his  caudle-cup.  The  whole  is  a  perfect  picture,  and  we  can  only 
regret  that  our  space  will  not  allow  us  to  quote  it  entire.  We  select, 
however,  the  four  verses  following  :— 

"  He  turned  him  on  his  pillow  with  a  sigh ; 

His  red  eye  flashing  through  a  mist  of  tears — 

Hot  heavy  tears  of  deepest  agony. 

The  fields  that  he  had  won,  the  happy  years 

Of  glories  past,  awoke  in  memory, 

And  (mingled  with  the  laughter  and  the  jeers 

Of  those  he  scorned,)  burst  forth  at  once,  to  roll 

A  flood  of  lav  a- water  o'er  his  soul. 

<e  Where  were  his  many  triumphs,  his  renown, 
Which  brought  the  very  slaves,  who  mocked  him  now, 
To  woo  his  smile,  or  wither  in  his  frown  ? 
Where  were  the  fawning  wretches  that  did  bow 
To  kiss  the  hand  which  brought  the  tyrant  down  ? 
Gone — gone !  they  took  his  gifts,  and  pledged  their  vow. 
But — once  his  money  safely  in  their  pocket — 
They  quibbled  at  the  vow  of  faith — and  broke  it. 

<f  They  saw  him  down — his  bounty  brought  him  low — 
They  saw  his  arm  was  weakened,  and  his  purse  ; 
And  then  they  mocked  him ;  and  to  keep  him  so, 
They  trusted  to  his  doctor  and  his  nurse. 
John  thought  of  this  just  then,  and  thrust  his  toe 
And  huge  leg  from  his  bed  in  rage, — *  Odd's  curse  ! 
I'll  bear  no  more.     Why  do  you  keep  me  here 
To  drench  me  with  your  slops  and  table-beer  ? 

<c  f  Bring  me  a  cup  of  sack,  and  bring  my  coat, 

I'll  shew  them  yet  that  I  am  no  old  woman  !' 

Quoth  Dogberry,  f  Heaven  keep  your  worship  !     Note, 

His  reverend  worship  says,  he's  no  old  woman  ! 

Moreover,  Bob,  write  that  down  first,  arid  quote 

His  worship  bears  impertinence  from  no  man. 

A  good  examination,  Bob  ;  but  write 

All  softly — for  his  worship  must  not  fight !' " 

We  cannot  take  leave  of  this  little  book  without  expressing  our  hope 
that  the  author  will  not  let  it  be  his  last.  He  possesses  considerable 
power,  and  will,  we  think,  succeed  equally  well  in  original  writing  as  he 
has  already  done  as  a  translator.  We  recommend  him  to  write  "A 
New  Whig  Guide,"  or  "  A  Treatise  on  Ratting."  Will  he  follow  our 
advice  ?  We  shall  see. 


[    326    ]  [SEPT. 


THE    SEPARATION. 

AND  have  I  received  your  last  letter  ? 

And  is  it  then  thus  that  we  part  ? 
Can  you  coldly  declare,  "  It  is  better  ?" 

Oh,  Alfred  !  how  changed  is  that  heart ! 
I  cannot  yet  credit  the  story 

They  tell,  as  the  cause  of  my  woe ; 
You  once  were  my  pride  and  my  glory, — 

And  can  you  indeed  sink  so  low  ? 

Why  is  it  you  thus  have  neglected 

That  love  you  so  eagerly  sought ! 
Alas  !  I  but  little  suspected 

You  ever  could  set  it  at  nought. 
The  promise  you  gave  to  that  mother 

Who  watched  o'er  the  days  of  our  youth, 
The  vows  you  then  breathed  to  another, 

Should  bind  you  to  reason  and  truth. 

Both  brought  up  from  childhood  together, 

We  shared  all  our  smiles  and  our  tears  ; 
I  called  you  in  infancy,  "  Brother  I" 

That  spell  has  been  broken  by  years  ; 
Though  never,  till  now,  had  I  reason 

To  grieve  that  'twas  only  a  name  ; 
I  almost  yet  fancy  it  treason 

To  think  that  you  feel  not  the  same. 

Or  can  I,  indeed,  have  mistaken 

Your  manners  and  letters  of  late  ? 
Can  it  be  that  I  am  not  forsaken  ? 

Dear  Alfred,  on  you  hangs  my  fate. 
But,  no — your  last  note  is  yet  lying 

Still  wet  with  the  tears  I  have  shed  ; 
You  say,  "  there  is  no  use  in  sighing  ;" 

Say,  rather,  "  affection  has  fled !" 

I  shrink  from  that  cruel  conviction, 

As  deeply  it  strikes  on  my  heart  ; 
At  first  it  but  seemed  a  wild  fiction — 

Too  well  I  now  know  we  must  part. 
And  is  it  then,  Alfred,  for  ever 

We  thus  bid  each  other  adieu? 
Can  ties,  which  time  only  should  sever, 

So  soon  be  unheeded  by  you  ? 

'Tis  said  that  you  covet  a  title- 
That  fortune  is  now,  too,  your  aim ; 

Deserve  I  from  you  this  requital  ? 
I  hear  it  with  sorrow  and  shame. 

Yet  why  should  I  listen  to  any, 
Who  add  to  the  blow  you  have  dealt  ? 

So  cruel !  no  tongue  of  the  many 
Can  heighten  the  grief  I  have  felt. 

Bereft  of  my  parents,  and  friendless, 

I  yet  had  one  blessing  in  store ; 
I  trusted  your  love  would  be  endless — 

You  swore  it — I  asked  for  no  more. 
It  is  not  my  wish,  by  upbraiding, 

To  raise  painful  thoughts  of  the  past; 
Though  daily  my  own  hopes  are  fading 

May  your's  ever  bloom  to  the  last ! 


1830-3  [  327  ] 

NOTES  OF  THE  MONTH  ON  AFFAIRS  IN  GENERAL. 

THE  King  proceeds  on  his  course  of  popularity.  Nothing  can  be 
easier,  pleasanter,  or  wiser.  By  living  like  an  English  gentleman,  he 
enjoys  all  the  comforts  of  a  private  station,  and  by  acting  like  a  King  he 
secures  the  public  respect.  Queen  Adelaide  follows  his  example.  She 
has  one  unroyal  quality,  for  which  we  like  her  the  better — she  pays  her 
debts.  All  demands  on  her  are  punctually  discharged,  and  no  one  can 
reproach  the  first  lady  in  the  realm  with  a  meanness  which  would  dis- 
grace the  lowest.  Let  our  titled  people  look  to  this.  The  Queen  has 
but  one  thing  more  to  do,  to  fix  herself  in  the  highest  degree  of  public 
respect.  Let  her,  like  old  Charlotte,  refuse  to  receive  any  woman  of 
tainted  character  at  her  Court,  let  harlotry  be  branded  whether  it  appear 
under  the  coronet  of  a  Baroness  or  a  Duchess.  Let  the  odious  and  inso- 
lent race  of  women  who  disgraced  the  late  court,  dishonoured  the  name 
of  the  late  too  easy  King,  and  spread  the  infection  of  their  manners 
through  society,  be  altogether  excluded  from  reception  by  the  Queen, 
and  she  will  seat  herself  on  a  safer  throne  than  St.  James's.  She  will 
be  Queen  of  the  people.  England  has  long  looked  with  disgust  on  the 
conduct  of  the  higher  classes.  Revolution  is  abroad,  and  will  not  spare. 
Jf  the  crimes  of  public  life  in  England  earn  the  scourge,  it  will  fall ;  it 
can  be  averted  by  nothing  but  our  virtues. 

The  elections  are  over, and  what  is  the  result  ?  that  every  syllable  which 
we  said  in  scorn  of  the  last  parliament,  has  been  echoed  and  re-echoed  from 
.every  hill  and  dale,  and  town  and  hamlet  of  the  empire ;  that  it  has  been 
pronounced  a  time-serving,  an  un-English  parliament.  Upwards  of 
two  hundred  new  members  have  been  returned,  and  in  every  instance 
where  the  public  voice  could  have  been  heard,  those  men  were  returned 
on  the  strength  of  their  declarations,  that  they  despised  the  ministry, 
scorned  the  conduct  of  the  last  parliament,  and  were  bound  to  the  will 
of  the  nation  alone. 

So  much  for  the  junto  who  huzzaed  for  every  administration 
alike ! — of  the  four  that  filled  up  their  four  years :  the  thick-and- 
Jthin  parliament  of  the  moping  and  hypocritical  Lord  Liverpool,  of  the 
vivacious  and  tricking  George  Canning,  of  that  genius  of  blundering, 
Lord  Goderich,  and  of  the  Field  Marshal,  the  man  of  gendarmerie 
and  horse,  foot,  and  dragoons.  And  if  his  celestial  highness  Pope  Pius 
had  sat  in  Downing-street  in  his  mitre,  the  thick-and-thin  parliament 
would  have  discovered  that  he  was  the  very  man  to  secure  the  con- 
stitution in  Church  and  State ;  or  if  the  Dey  of  Algiers,  in  want  of 
employment,  had,  like  the  Duke  of  'Wellington,  turned  his  mind  to 
place-making  and  place-giving  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Treasury, 
erected  his  slipper-bearer  into  a  Sir  Robert  Peel,  or  any  other  sallow- 
hearted  minion  of  the  same  dimensions  of  mind  and  conscience;  made 
his  chief  bastinado-man  into  the  likeness  of  a  Sir  George  Murray;  and 
clothed  the  keeper  of  his  harem  in  the  outward  man  of  some  com- 
plying secretary,  who  looks  upon  his  domestic  arrangements  with  a 
politic  view  to  the  comforts  of  his  superiors ;  there  cannot  be  a  doubt 
under  the  canopy  of  Heaven  that  the  patriotic  parliament  of  1829 
would  have  discovered  within  the  round  of  his  highnesses  turban  all 
the  legal,  political,  and  patriotic  wisdom  essential  to  the  government  of 
the  Empire,  and  found  in  the  sweep  of  his  highness's  scymetar  an  un- 


328  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [SEPT. 

answerable  evidence  of  his  fitness  for  every  employment  under  the 
sun. 

But  this  parliament  has  passed  away.  It  is  in  its  grave,  and  we  desire 
never  to  see  its  revival  in  spirit  any  more  than  in  substance. 

The  voice  of  the  nation  has  been  raised  in  one  indignant  outcry  against 
the  expenses  of  the  state,  against  the  sinecures,  the  pensions,  the  super- 
numerary places,  the  enormous  military  establishment,  and  the  whole 
cumbrous  frippery  of  the  Horse-Guards'  administration. 

At  some  time  or  other  we  shall  come  to  the  detail  of  those  scandals  ; 
but  the  nation  has  clearly  determined  to  give  its  confidence  to  no  man 
who  will  not  pledge  himself  that  those  abominations  shall  be  extinguished. 
Sir  James  Graham's  speeches  have  only  embodied  the  public  scorn  and 
disgust.  The  feeling  existed  long  before.  The  pledge  universally  de- 
manded at  the  elections  was,  will  you  put  down  the  sinecures  ?  will 
you  set  your  face  against  the  jobs  ?  will  you  dock  the  ruinous  salaries  ? 
will  you  insist  on  knowing  why  the  Privy  Council  are  entitled  to  pay 
themselves  upwards  of  half  a  million  a  year  out  of  the  public  pocket,  or 
5,000/.  a  year  a  piece  ?  Will  you  extinguish  every  thing  in  the  shape 
of  political  buying  and  selling,  and  the  transformation  of  the  House  of  the 
Constitution  into  a  den  of  thieves  ?  They  did  not  think  it  worth  their 
while  to  ask  them  on  what  side  of  the  house  they  intended  to  take  post ; 
but  the  point  was  this,  wherever  they  sat,  they  must  sit  as  the  represen- 
tatives of  the  people,  not  as  the  slaves  of  my  lord  secretary  this,  or  my 
lord  viscount  the  other.  We  shall  see  whether  the  new  members  keep 
their  words.  If  they  do,  the  country  will  escape  a  convulsion  :  if  they 
do  not,  they  at  least  will  be  overwhelmed  ;  scorn  will  pursue  them  at 
every  step,  and  on  the  first  opportunity  they  will  be  flung  out  into  dis- 
grace and  ignominy  for  ever.  So  be  it. 

Our  women  are  all  heroines  now ;  the  newspapers  say,  that  Lady 
Harcourt,  whose  noble  husband  could  hardly  have  been  consigned  to 
the  earth  when  the  late  king  was  buried,  sent  for  twelve  tickets  to  St. 
George's  chapel.  A  snug  funeral  party  this.  Of  course  they  all  got 
tickets,  and  were  well  entertained.  No  doubt  her  ladyship  was  very 
much  at  her  ease,  and  has  continued  so  ever  since. 

Yet  it  is  not  so  much  by  women  of  rank,  who  are  bred  up  to  this  stony- 
heartedness as  a  part  of  their  education,  and  think  much  the  same  of  a 
dead  husband  as  of  a  cast-off  gown,  that  our  indignation  has  been  excited 
of  late.  It  is  with  the  "  weeping  widows/"  the  "  undone  and  bereaved 
of  all  their  souls  held  dear/'  the  walking  hearses  of  a  husband's  beloved 
memory,  black  and  tragic  from  top  to  toe — the  writing  widows — those 
sorrowing  authoresses,  who,  in  insatiable  fondness  for  the  dear  dead-and- 
gone,  and  "  in  a  holy  desire  to  give  the  world  some  knowledge  of  the 
virtues  and  various  perfections  of  him  whom  they  shall  never  cease  to 
deplore,  whose  image  they  treasure  in  their  heart  of  hearts,  and  whom 
they  day  and  night  implore  heaven  that  they  may  soon  rejoin  in  the 
grave  ;"  make  books  and  sell  them  for  the  highest  price  they  can  get ; 
bolstered  up  by  puffery  of  all  kinds,  demands  on  the  "  recollections  of 
college  friends,"  or  "  the  sympathy  of  sorrowing  relations/'  and  on  the 
humbugability  of  the  public  in  general.  Those  are  the  true  Widow 
of  Ephesus  tribe,  and,  we  will  confess,  it  would  not  seriously  afflict 
our  souls  to  see  them  thrown  into  public  scorn,  or  hear  the  first  appli- 
cation for  assistance,  the  first  pretty  presentation  of  the  prospectus  of 
"  The  Recollections  and  Remains  of  the  late  lamented  Honourable  and 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  329 

Reverend  Charles  Montague  Antonio  Belville,  with  fac-similes  of  his 
writing,  and  his  billets-doux  and  epigrams  in  the  magazines,  carefully 
collected,  with  notes,  by  his  affectionate  and  disconsolate  widow,  the 
Honourable  Amelia  Antoinetta  Isabinda  Seymour" — answered  in  every 
instance  by  "  Madam,  you  are  an  impostor  !  No  woman  who  cared  for 
a  husband's  memory  would  make  such  an  exhibition  of  him.  You  only 
want  to  parade  yourself  before  the  public,  and  get  money  and  a  second 
husband  as  fast  as  you  can." 

There  is  not  one  of  the  scribbling  widows  that  has  not  "  changed  her 
condition  "  with  the  greatest  alertness  possible.  The  latest  candidate 
on  the  list  has  been  poor  Heber's  widow ;  this  lady  was  the  widow  par 
excellence,  all  devotedness,  all  sublime,  all  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi. 
But  nobody  better  knew  what  she  was  about,  when  softening  the  <f  sen- 
timental reader"  was  the  question.  With  an  alacrity  worthy  of  an 
undertaker,  she  collected  every  fragment  of  the  dead  that  she  could 
turn  to  money,  enlisted  every  friend  he  had  in  the  scheme,,  made  a  Jew's 
bargain  with  a  bookseller,  and  out  came  the  quarto : — 

"  The  late  Bishop  Heber's  Travels  in  India,"  &c.  "  with  sketches, 
engravings,  vignettes,"  and,  she  ought  to  have  added,  in  justice  to  the 
sentimental  reader,  with  a  variety  of  weak  correspondence  and  of  childish 
and  unepiscopal  verses.  But  the  whole  tenderly  blazoned  "  with  notes 
by  his  widow !" 

Now,  to  those  who  have  hearts  in  their  bosoms,  and  have  known  the 
loss  of  any  being  for  whom  they  felt  even  common  regard,  the  idea  of 
hunting  over  their  papers,  conning  their  letters,  gathering  every  scrap 
that  fell  from  their  hands,  recalling  the  familiar  penmanship,  the  fami- 
liar phrase,  till  almost  the  familiar  voice  is  in  the  ear,  and  the  dead 
seems  to  stand  before  them;  is  one  of  the  most  repulsive  thoughts  that  can 
come  into  the  mind ;  in  fact,  those  who  have  any  heart  at  all,  shrink 
from  it  wholly,  and  cannot  prevail  upon  themselves  to  go  near  any  object 
which  calls  back  the  image;  and  if  they  make  any  exertion,  it  is  to  avoid 
all  recurrence  to  sensations  which  cannot  return  without  great  pain. 

But  not  so  with  a  she-editor.  The  Widow  of  Ephesus  first  looks  to 
the  market,  considers  how  much  better  books  will  sell  if  they  are  taken 
in  time  ;  and  then,  before  the  breath  is  well  out  of  the  husband's  body, 
she  is  neck-deep  in  his  trunks,  turning  out  his  portfolios,  cutting  ex- 
tracts out  of  his  books,  and  inditing  circulars  to  all  his  friends  for  every 
fragment  of  his  letters ;  then  comes,  without  a  moment's  delay,  the 
"  Proposal  for  publishing  the  Life  and  Remains,  with  Notes  by  his 
Widow  !" 

The  book  is  published ;  sympathy  with  some,  shame  with  others, 
common  charity  with  the  rest,  make  a  considerable  sum  of  money;  which 
the  world,  of  course,  conceive  that  they  are  contributing  for  the  support 
of  a  worthy  man's  children,  and  giving  into  the  hands  of  a  worthy 
widow. 

But  the  money  is  scarcely  lodged,  when,  lo !  the  widow  is  a  wife ; 
some  gay  lounger  of  St.  James's  air  has  caught  her  taste,  and  wooed  her 
to  be  his,  by  virtue  of  his  knowledge  of  her  subscription ;  or  she  has 
been  charmed  by  the  grin  and  guitar  of  some  exquisite  of  the  sunny 
south,  who,  though  figuring  as  a  perruquier  in  the  sunny  south,  figures 
as  a  marquis  in  foggy  England ;  or  the  moustachios  of  some  half  Turk 
have  charms  for  her,  and  she  wends  her  way — La  Condessa  Catapulta 

M.M.  New  Series.-— VOL.  X.  No.  57.  2  T 


330  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [SEPT. 

Cavatina — to  the  lovely  land  where  all  above  is  moonshine,  and  all  below 
is  heroism  and  piracy.  Thus  goes  the  world  of  widows. 

Without  knowing  or  caring  what  kind  of  match  Heber's  masculine 
and  managing  widow  may  have  carved  out  for  her  tender  fancies,  it  is 
enough  for  us  to  know  that  she  has  made  eleven  thousand  pounds  by 
his  "  Remains/'  and  is  now  worrying  the  public  again  with  his  "  Life 
and  Travels ;"  the  book  is  a  miserable  one  at  best,  a  compilation  of 
schoolboy  stuff  and  letters  of  insufferable  self-sufficiency,  unctuated  with 
a  good  share  of  the  twaddle  gathered  in  his  later  years,  to  be  used  for  the 
especial  catching  of  the  devout ;  in  short,  it  is  exactly  the  book  of  "  a 
first-class  man  of  Oxford,"  and  of  course,  to  all  men  of  sense  and  taste, 
a  perfectly  trivial  and  obnoxious  performance.  But  we  should  be  sorry 
to  impede  the  progress  of  the  lady's  prosperity,  or  the  goodness  of  the 
catch  which  the  man  of  moustachios  has  made  in  her,  and  we  recom- 
mend its  purchase  to  all  those  who  patronize  the  Widow  of  Ephesus 
class  of  marriageable  dames  above  forty-five. 

Another  of  the  weepers  and  she-editors  was  Mrs.  Bowdich.  Nothing 
could  be  prettier  than  this  lady's  sorrow,  except  herself  and  her  little 
subscription  book  of  gold  and  silver  fish  drawings.  The  dear  departed 
Bowdich  was  never  to  be  replaced  in  her  desolate  heart.  The  world 
believed  her  blue  eyes,  steeped  as  they  were  in  perpetual  agony ; 
gave  their  subscriptions,  and  lo!  Mrs.  Widow  Bowdich  married  on 
the  spot. 

Before  her  came  Mrs.  — .  The  earth  rang  with  her  afflictions 

when  her  poor  husband,  the  artist,  broke  his  neck  by  a  fall  in  some 
country  church,  where  he  was  sketching.  The  quarto  was  rapidly 
prepared,  every  thing  that  her  "  angelic,  and  ever  to  be  lamented,  and 
never  to  be  forgotten"  Adolphus,  had  ever  said,  scribbled  or  sketched,  was 

fathered  into  a  book,  and  his  undone  widow  bored  all  ears,  from  the 
ing's,  down  to  the  coterie  of  literary  spinsters  who  act  as  (t  managing 
committee  for  the  Inverness  and  John-o' Groat's  reading-club,"  with  her 
sorrows,  her  fidelity,  the  premature  loss  of  her  Adolphus,  the  infant 
memory  of  her  Blanche,  and  her  whole  host  of  personal  desolations 
besides. 

But  the  book  was  scarcely  in  the  hands  of  the  spinsters,  when  their 
souls  were  electrified  by  a  paragraph  in  their  solitary  paper.  "  Yesterday, 

married  Mrs.  A.  • ,   by  special  license,  &c.     We  understand  that 

she  has  married  the  parson  of  the  church  in  which  her  late  husband 
broke  his  neck,  as  a  tribute  of  respect  to  his  memory." 

Lady  Raffles,  too,  has  written  her  book,  and  made  the  most  of  poor 
Sir  Stamford.  However,  she  is  not  a  Duchess  yet,  and  we  conclude 
that  the  cause  of  the  delay  is,  her  having  abstained  from  the  usual  lofty 
pledges  of  eternal  sorrow  and  perpetual  widowhood.  If  she  had  sworn 
like  the  rest,  of  course,  she  would  have  done  like  the  rest,  and  the 
widow  been  no  more.  So  much  for  the  she-editors.  It  actually  gives 
us  an  uncontrollable  disgust  to  see  the  name.  It  is  a  sure  forerunner 
of  man-hunting. 

Brougham,  whose  foulness  of  tongue  is  always  getting  him  into 
scrapes,  has  just  had  the  honour  of  receiving  a  message  from  Mr. 
Martin  Bree,  the  quack  doctor,  formerly  of  the  Strand — a  fellow  who 
cured  the  diseases  of  man  and  the  metropolis  at  sixpence  a  head,  and 
figured  as  the  Dr.  Eady  of  his  day,  within  the  last  dozen  years. 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  331 

By  some  of  those  freaks  which  make  the  name  of  chance  abominable, 
this  fellow  got  an  estate  in  Yorkshire,  and  now  sets  up  for  a  curator  of 
the  constitution  of  the  empire,  as  much  as  he  ever  did  for  a  curator  of 
the  constitution  of  the  populace  of  the  Strand.  He  sent  to  demand 
why  Brougham  had  called  him  an  ' '  insect ;"  as  if  the  feelings  of  Mr. 
Martin  Bree,  of  "  the  green  door  and  private  entrance  in  the  Strand," 
could  be  hurt  by  any  thing,  save  a  horsewhipping  or  a  ducking. 
However,  this  was  Harry's  day  of  peace ;  and  he  sent  back  a  formal 
declaration,  that  whatever  words  might  have  escaped  his  lips  in  the 
hour  of  patriot  enthusiasm,  he  wished  Mr.  Martin  Bree  Van  Butchel 
Stapylton  good  health  on  that  and  on  all  other  occasions ;  on  which 
Martin  courteously  acknowledged  the  compliment,  and  the  aiFair  closed, 
the  whole  correspondence  being  announced  to  the  empire  with  all  due 
speed,  as  "  an  affair  of  honour." 

But  America  has  lately  added  to  our  examples  of  transatlantic 
gallantry  in  these  matters.  A  pair  of  doctors,  quarrelling  for  something 
or  for  nothing,  took  out  their  pistols.  They  fired  and  missed  during  a 
round  or  two ;  but  their  open  determination  was  death.  Accordingly 
they  went  on  with  their  shooting,  advancing  nearer  to  each  other  at 
every  round,  until  the  right  arm  of  one  of  them  was  broke.  But  this 
was  not  the  compact.  They  must  go  on.  The  wounded  man  took  the 
pistol  in  his  left,  fired,  and  broke  his  antagonist's  arm.  This  of  course 
could  satisfy  neither  of  the  heroes  ;  at  last  they  both  gained  their  object. 
They  fired  together ;  the  challenger  received  the  ball  in  his  heart,  and 
died  on  the  spot.  The  challenged  received  the  ball  in  his  lungs,  and 
died  in  three  hours.  While  he  was  lying  on  the  ground,  he  inquired 
the  result  of  his  last  bullet;  and  on  being  told  that  it  done  its  business, 
expressed  himself  "  a  happy  man,"  and  said,  that  now  he  could  die 
contented. 

And  this  is  duelling  —  the  honourable  arranger  of  scruples,  the 
delicate  washer-out  of  stains,  the  curer  of  scandals,  and  general  peace- 
maker of  society.  Or  is  not  this  unequivocal  barbarism,  wilful  murder  ? 
— a  determination  to  shed  blood  without  mercy  ?  And  yet  our  laws 
slumber  over  such  things.  The  judge  pronounces  a  formal  reprobation, 
about  which  neither  he  nor  anybody  else  cares  a  jot.  The  jury  smile, 
the  criminal  arranges  his  curls,  and  prepares  for  a  new  celebrity  among 
the  fair.  The  verdict  lets  him  loose — the  mob  huzza  him.  The  ladies 
adore  him,  the  gentlemen  extol  his  heroism  ;  and  thus  a  scoundrel,  black 
with  malice  and  revenge,  and  dipped  in  blood  from  head  to  heel,  a 
human  tiger,  is  triumphantly  sent  forth  to  prey  upon  mankind. 

Common  sense  is  as  rare  among  nations  as  among  men;  and  no 
stronger  proof  can  be  required  of  the  fact,  than  the  toleration  of  duelling 
in  any  civilized  country.  The  whole  spirit  of  duelling  is  not  merely 
an  anomaly  in  public  manners,  but  an  insult  to  that  first  principle  of  law, 
which  declares,  that  no  man  shall  be  the  judge  in  his  own  quarrel,  much  less 
the  executioner.  As  to  the  actual  circumstances,  what  can  be  a  more  extra- 
ordinary violation  of  common  reason,  than  that  the  formality  of  a  murder 
shall  make  the  murderer  innocent.  The  duellist  puts  himself  in  a  situa- 
tion to  kill;  and,  in  the  generality  of  instances,  without  the  common 
excuses  for  bloodshed.  The  duel  is  seldom  a  matter  of  passion,  often  of 
no  actual  injury  whatever.  In  nine  instances  out  of  ten,  it  is  a  murder  for 
etiquette. — But  we  are  to  be  told  that  the  challenger  exposes  his  life 
equally  with  that  of  the  challenged.  Yet  if  two  butchers  in  a  market 

2  T  2 


332  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [SEPT. 

attack  each  other  with  their  knives,  and  one  of  them  is  killed,  the  other 
is  hanged.  Yet  here  we  have  more  than  the  palliatives  that  are  to  make 
the  duel  innocent.  We  have  the  equal  danger,  the  violent  passion,  and 
the  coarser  and  more  violent  habits  of  life  or  profession,  probably 
drunkenness  at  the  moment ;  still,  with  all  those  palliatives,  the  butcher 
is  hanged.  But  if  the  butcher  had  written  a  cool  note  to  his  fellow 
butcher,  instead  of  rousing  his  passions  by  a  curse  or  a  blow  ;  if  he  had 
appointed  Hyde  Park  for  the  place  of  putting  him  to  death,  instead  of 
the  site  of  Clare  Market ;  and  had  blown  out  his  brains  with  a  pistol, 
instead  of  stabbing  him  to  the  heart  with  a  knife,  the  butcher  would 
have  figured  as  a  well-bred  person,  who  had  done  a  well-bred  deed;  the 
murder  would  have  been  an  affair  of  honour,  and  the  murderer  would 
have  established  a  character  in  society  as  one  "  who  had  killed  his 
man." 

The  argument,  that  society  is  kept  in  order  by  the  fear  of  the  pistol,  is 
nonsense,  and  is  repelled  by  the  fullest  evidence — that  the  most  civilized 
nations  of  the  ancient  world  knew  nothing  of  duelling  ;  that,  in  the  most 
intelligent  and  accomplished  classes  of  modern  life,  a  duel  is  the  rarest 
of  possible  occurrences ;  that,  among  those  classes  of  society  which  are 
especially  prohibited  by  custom,  from  this  guilty  mode  of  arbitrating 
their  differences  (the  clergy  and  the  judges,  for  instance)  we  find  no  want 
of  mutual  civility ;  and  that  there  are  more  duels  concocted  among  the 
vulgar  and  unmannered  haunters  of  the  coffee-house  and  the  billiard- 
table,  than  in  all  other  society. 

It  will  even  be  universally  found,  that  as  duelling  ceases  to  be  the  habi- 
tual mode  of  deciding  opinions,  civilized  manners  become  more  habitual ; 
and  for  the  obvious  reason,  that  where  mutual  concession  has  not  the  stigma 
of  mutual  fear,  it  is  the  natural  course  of  honest  and  educated  minds. 
If  we  are  to  be  told  that  the  cessation  of  duelling  is  the  result  of  civiliza- 
tion, the  argument  only  shows,  that  duelling  is  contrary  to  the  advance 
of  society.  But  the  truth  is,  that  until  duelling  has  ceased  to  be  the 
habit  of  a  country,  mutual  civility  can  make  no  progress.  Ireland  is 
still,  unhappily,  the  most  duelling  part  of  the  empire.  The  conse- 
quence results  in  its  being  the  most  uncivilized.  The  west  and  south  of 
Ireland  are  the  most  duelling  parts  of  Ireland,.  The  consequence  results 
in  those  districts  being  the  most  uncivilized.  A  duelling  regiment  is 
always  notorious  for  general  want  of  discipline,  and  for  being  unser- 
viceable in  the  field.  A  regular  duellist,  in  society,  is  generally  a  ruffian 
in  his  manners,  as  he  is  always  a  scoundrel  in  his  principles,  if  not  noto- 
riously a  blackleg  by  profession.  But  the  whole  evil,  as  well  as  the 
whole  remedy,  rests  with  the  laws.  So  long  as  the  refusal  to  go  out  at 
a  moment's  notice,  to  kill  or  be  killed,  is  considered  by  society  an  essen- 
tial proof  of  personal  timidity,  so  long  will  duelling  continue  to  be  the 
shame  and  scourge  of  our  community.  But  let  the  laws  declare  autho- 
ritatively and  steadily,  that  the  reputation  for  intrepidity  shall  not 
be  suffered  to  turn  upon  a  man's  readiness  to  fire  in  the  face  of  another 
on  the  most  trivial  occasion  of  dispute ;  and  the  practice  will  perish  in  a 
twelvemonth,  and,  before  the  next  twelvemonth  is  over,  be  wondered  at 
among  the  absurdities  of  times  gone  by. 

Let  the  laws  declare  distinctly,  that  every  man  who  goes  out  to  fight  a 
duel,  is  a  murderer,  that  every  message-bearer,  second,  &c.,  is  an  acces- 
sory, and  that  they  shall  require  nothing  more  than  evidence  of  the 
facts,  to  deliver  the  whole  of  those  conspirators  against  human  life  to  the 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General.  333 

executioner.  And  the  evil  will  be  instantly  at  end.  But  we  shall  not 
have  the  honour  of  setting  the  example  of  this  wise  and  religious 
measure. 

"  A  law  has  just  been  promulgated  by  the  Elector  of  Hesse,  against 
duelling,  and,  if  put  into  effect,  it  must  inevitably  abolish  the  practice  in 
the  State  which  is  subject  to  it.  Whoever  merely  sends  a  challenge  is 
liable  to  imprisonment  in  a  fortress,  for  not  less  than  three  years.  If  a 
duel  is  fought  in  which  neither  party  is  killed,  both  parties  are  to  be 
expelled  the  service  ;  to  be  deprived  of  their  letters  patent  of  nobility,  if 
they  possess  them ;  and  to  be  imprisoned  in  a  fortress  for  not  less  than 
ten  years." 

There  seems  no  provision  here  for  the  case  of  either  of  the  parties  being 
killed.  But  as  the  mere  attempt  to  kill  is  to  be  punished  by  ten  years 
imprisonment  and  public  exclusion  from  all  honours,  we  must  suppose 
that  death  is  the  penalty.  The  Hessian  law  falls  short  in  omitting  the 
seconds,  and  other  stimulators  of  the  duel ;  who  are  generally  much  more 
criminal  than  the  actual  combatants,  and  without  whose  interference,  it 
is  obvious  that  no  duel  could  be  fought. 

We  know  that  the  English  law  at  present  declares  duelling  murder, 
but  the  declaration  is  nullified  by  practice.  The  revival  of  the  law,  with 
additional  provisions  for  its  being  resolutely  carried  into  effect,  is  a  mat- 
ter demanded  by  every  consideration  of  principle,  civil  and  religious. 
Let  the  statute  be,  that  the  laws  agaiust  murder  shall  be  applied  without 
palliative  or  evasion,  on  the  simple  proof,  that  men  have  gone  out  to 
shed  blood  illegally ;  and  the  law  itself  will  never  be  called  into  action  a 
second  time.  No  man  will  be  mad  enough  to  send  a  challenge,  if  he  is 
physically  certain  that  the  result  of  his  sending  that  challenge  will  be 
his  own  hanging  at  the  door  of  Newgate.  No  man  will  feel  himself 
stigmatized  in  the  general  eye  by  refusing  a  challenge,  when  it  is 
literally  a  summons  to  stand  in  the  Old  Bailey  dock,  to  be  taken 
thence  only  to  be  .hanged.  An  easy  provision  in  the  statute,  making 
duels,  fought  beyond  seas  by  British  subjects,  equally  criminal  as  when 
fought  at  home,  would  put  an  end  to  the  contrivance  of  running  off  to 
Calais  or  Boulogne  to  commit  this  polished  species  of  assassination ;  and 
the  jurisdiction  of  England  would  be  cleared  from  a  stain,  the  religious 
feeling  of  the  country  would  be  freed  from  a  scandal,  and  society  be 
disburthened  of  a  habit,  offensive  alike  to  the  commands  of  Heaven,  and 
to  the  common  understanding  of  man. 

We  hear,  about  once  a  year,  a  terrible  outcry  from  Westminster- 
hall,  touching  the  smallness  of  the  judge's  salaries.  ~Yet  we  have  no 
bowels  of  compassion  for  even  those  dignitaries.  We  think  every  man 
of  them  enormously  overpaid.  To  take  the  favourite  instance,  the  chief 
justice  of  the  King's  Bench.  He  has  a  great  deal  to  do ;  but  then  he 
has  an  enormous  salary,  namely,  8,000/.  a  year,  with  great  present 
patronage,  and  certain  handsome  reversions,  which,  of  course,  go  into 
the  hands  of  his  own  family.  His  lordship's  emoluments,  thus  on  the 
fair  calculation  of  such  things,  are  worth  12,000/.  a  year.  Any  mer- 
chant on  'Change  would  give  him  an  annuity  to  that  amount  for  them. 
Now,  all  this  is  enormous.  True,  he  is  a  good  lawyer,  and  a  diligent 
man,  and  sits  in  his  court  from  nine  till  three  the  greater  part  of  the 
year.  But  the  true  question  for  those  who  pay  is,  what  can  the  busi- 
ness be  done  as  well  for  ?  We  say,  for  a  fourth  of  the  money.  We 


334  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [SEPT. 

say  that  a  dozen  barristers,  any  one  of  them  as  competent  as  Lord  Ten- 
terden,  would  be  rejoiced  to  take  his  place  for  3,000/.  a  year  j  and  if 
this  be  so,  his  salary  ought  not  to  be  a  shilling  more.  But  what  be- 
comes of  the  labours  of  the  Exchequer,  which  sits  for  its  two  hours,  and 
then  goes  en  masse  to  take  its  airing  in  the  Regent' s-park,  or  adjourns 
from  the  cares  of  state,  to  the  Ship  Tavern,  at  Greenwich,  and  discusses 
the  properties  of  white-bait  and  iced  champagne  ? 

The  following  abstract  was  lately  given  of  the  duty  performed  by  the 
judges  at  an  Old  Bailey  sessions  : — "  Mr.  Justice  Littledale  tried  6  j  Mr. 
Baron  Vaughan,  8 ;  the  Recorder,  20 ;  the  Common  Serjeant,  100 ; 
Serjeant  Arabin,  82.  When  we  find  that  out  of  216  cases,  14  only  were 
tried  by  the  '  judges  of  the  land,'  taking  it  for  granted  that  these  were 
the  most  laborious  and  important,  our  wonder  how  they  could  get 
through  the  enormous  mass  of  business  subsides,  and  we  do  not  feel 
that  they  are  excessively  underpaid." 

We  feel  no  such  thing.  We  believe  that  they  are  monstrously 
overpaid,  and  that  among  the  first  duties  of  our  honest  representa- 
tives, will  be  a  general  overhauling  of  the  judges'  enormous  salaries,  and 
the  general  sinecurism  of  the  places  connected  with  the  courts.  We 
must  have  the  prothonotaries,  the  great  exchequer  people,  the  my  Lord 
Johns  this,  and  my  Lord  Toms  that,  forced  to  shew  why  they  are  to 
fatten  their  noble  persons  on  the  money  wrung  from  the  honest  portion 
of  the  community. 

As  an  instance  of  the  sinecurism,  we  give  a  minute  which  has  ap- 
peared in  one  of  the  newspapers/ touching  the  emoluments  of  that  ines- 
timably bewitching,  virtuous,  and  clear-headed  nobleman,  the  present 
Lord  Ellenborough,  him  of  the  order  of  the  "  Tame  Elephant:" — 

President  of  the  Board  of  Commissioners  for  the 
Affairs  of  India,  by  patent  dated  26th  September, 
1828 £5,000  0  0 

Chief  Clerk  of  the  Court  of  King's  Bench 9,625     8     1 

The  office  of  the  Chief  Clerk  was  granted  to  Lord  Ellenborough  by 
the  late  Lord  Chief  Justice,  in  November,  1811,  but  the  emoluments 
have  been  received  by  his  lordship  only  since  the  decease  of  the  late 
Chief  Justice,  on  the  13th  December,  1818.  Lord  Ellenborough  also 
holds  the  office  of  Gustos  Brevium  of  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  jointly 
with  Lord  Kenyon,  who  receives  all  the  emoluments  arising  therefrom 
during  his  life. 

This  is  pretty  well  for  the  price  of  my  lord's  brains,  ringlets  and  all. 

Africa  has  afforded  only  the  strongest  probability  of  all  those  catas- 
trophes hitherto  found  on  earth  ;  and  it  has  accordingly  been  a  favourite 
speculation.  Men,  with  clothes  on  their  limbs,  and  supposed  brains  in 
their  heads,  have  followed  each  other  in  rival  succession  for  the  honour 
of  embracing  the  cholera  or  the  Bulam  fever,  being  shot  with  arrows  by 
his  majesty  of  the  Mandingoes,  or  serving  as  a  meal  to  the  lions  and 
panthers,  lords  of  some  millions  of  square  leagues  of  sand.  Lander's  late 
narrative  gives  a  new  specimen  of  this  frenzy  : — 

"  The  son  of  Mr.  Park,  the  celebrated  African  traveller,  died  in  a 
small  town  two  day's  journey  in  the  interior  from  Accra,  only  three 
days  before  my  arrival  on  the  coast.  I  first  ascertained  his  name  by 
reason  of  a  shirt  sent  in  mistake  for  one  of  my  own  which  I  had  given  a 
female  to  wash — <'  Thomas  Park'  being  marked  in  legible  characters  at 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  .    335 

the  bottom.  This  young  Englishman,,  on  coming  into  the  country,  used 
no  precautions  with  regard  to  the  preservation  of  his  health  ;  but,  adopt- 
ing the  habits  of  the  people  with  whom  he  mingled,  anointed  his  head 
and  body  with  clay  and  oil,  ate  unreservedly  the  food  of  the  natives,  and 
exposed  himself,  with  scarcely  any  clothing,  to  the  heat  of  the  sun  by 
day,  and  the  influence  of  the  pernicious  dews  by  night, — in  consequence 
whereof,  as  might  have  been  expected,  he  was  attacked  with  fever,  which 
put  an  end  to  his  existence  after  a  very  short  illness.  Mr.  Thomas  Park 
had  formed  the  pious  resolution  of  discovering  the  spot  where  his  intrepid 
father  had  met  his  fate,  and  of  ascertaining,  if  possible,  the  cause  and 
manner  of  his  death ;  in  which  attempt  he  was  defeated  only  by  his  own 
dissolution.  Had  the  young  gentleman  survived  a  few  days  longer,  I 
could  have  fully  satisfied  him  in  these  particulars,  and  given  him  direc- 
tions, in  case  of  his  recovery,  for  proceeding  to  the  island  of  Boussa." 

But  it  is  only  justice  to  this  young  adventurer  to  say,  in  the  Irish 
style,  that  he  had  good  reason  for  what  he  did,  he  being  evidently  as 
mad  as  a  March  hare.  Nothing  but  insanity  could  have  been  the  cause 
of  his  exposures  to  the  whole  fierceness  of  this  climate  of  death,  unless 
we  are  to  say,  that  he  felt  the  absurdity  of  all  precaution,  and  daringly 
defied  the  danger,  because  it  was  inevitable. 

All  the  African  adventurers  have  rapidly  perished.  And  what  have 
their  adventures  produced  ?  Books.  And  what  have  the  books  pro- 
duced ?  Nothing.  To  this  hour  we  know  no  more  of  any  channel  of 
intercourse  with  the  interior,  nearer  than  the  horrid  journey  over  the 
deserts  of  Barbary,  than  was  known  a  thousand  years  ago.  But  Tim- 
buctoo  has  been  reached.  Yes,  by  Major  Laing,  who  has  told  us  nothing, 
partly,  perhaps,  from  that  seizure  of  his  papers,  which,  as  well  as  his 
murder,  makes  the  regular  policy  of  Africa ;  but  evidently  in  a  much 
greater  degree  from  his  having  nothing  to  tell,  for  he  had  opportunities 
of  sending  intelligence  during  his  journey  and  stay.  But  the  Frenchman 
Caille  has  been  at  Timbuctoo.  On  this  point  we  cannot  help  feeling  much 
doubt ;  and  we  must  have  strong  testimony  before  we  can  believe  the 
Frenchman.  But  if  Timbuctoo  were  traversed  to-morrow,  and  we 
knew  as  much  about  its  fairs  and  its  wares,  its  women  and  its  huts,  as 
we  know  about  Waterloo-place,  how  much  nearer  are  we  to  the  disco- 
very of  the  mouth  of  the  Niger  ?  for  that  is  the  grand  affair  after  all. 
We  have  known  for  those  three  thousand  years  that  Africa  has  been 
traversed  in  length  and  breadth,  by  caravans  from  the  north,  east,  and 
west,  but  the  point  with  us  is,  how  can  we  reach  its  internal  commerce 
with  our  ships  ?  Our  object  is  to  find  the  river's  mouth  that  will  carry 
our  ships  up  to  Timbuctoo,  or  any  where  else,  within  reach  of  gold  dust, 
gums,  and  elephant's  teeth.  The  only  rational  hope  of  this  discovery  is, 
by  sending  a  steam-boat  to  try  every  river  falling  into  the  Bight  of 
Benin.  In  three  months  the  survey  might  be  finished,  and  the  ques- 
tion of  a  great  central  river  set  at  rest  in  one  way  or  other.  The  settle- 
ment at  Fernando  Po  may  do  something  for  this  project ;  and  we  are 
strongly  inclined  to  think  that  government  will  be  culpable  in  giving  its 
sanction  to  adventures  in  any  other  direction. 

The  French  funds  are  falling.  Not  from  French  fear,  but  from  En- 
glish fear.  The  absentees  do  not  much  like  the  idea  of  having  their 
gold  locked  up  in  the  bank  of  France  by  the  next  popular  shock,  nor 


336  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [SEPT. 

their  bodies  stopped  for  want  of  a  passport  on  the  French  shore ;  and  so 
both  money  and  bodies  are  making  a  quiet  transfer  of  themselves  to  the 
shores  of  England.  And  they  are  quite  right.  For  magnificent  dealings 
are  going  on  in  the  French  funds,  and  though  our  neighbours  are  al- 
ways patriotic,  they  are  now  and  then  slippery.  A  Paris  paper  says, 
"  The  famous  Ouvrard  is  reported  to  have  gained  many  millions  by  the 
enormous  fall  the  funds  experienced  on  Monday  week  ;  the  losses  of  the 
house  of  Rothschild  are,  they  say,  in  an  equal  proportion,  and  the  head 
of  that  house  indulges  in  reproaches  against  the  perfidy  of  Prince 
Polignac,  who,  up  to  the  last  moment,  kept  him  in  perfect  security,  and 
induced  him  to  speculate  for  the  rise.  Rothschild  would,  however,  ex- 
cite no  interest  were  he  and  all  his  to  be  reduced  to  beggary.  Have 
not  those  Jews  always,  since  1814,  been  found  knocking  at  the  doors  of 
every  Cabinet,  with  their  money-bags  under  their  arms,  ready  to  aid 
every  enterprise  against  the  liberty  of  Europe  ?" — A  good  hint  for 
Rothschild. 

We  thought  that  the  famous  Ouvrard  had  been  provided  for  long  ago. 
However  he  seems  to  be,  like  Johnson,  the  smuggler,  proof  to  time, 
chance,  and  justice. 

The  world  is  now  fuller  of  strange  sights  than  ever.  It  is  impossible 
but  that  something  odd  is  intended  on  a  large  scale,  by  the  confusion 
of  all  things  in  little.  We  have  now  an  African  king  in  Europe,  with 
a  harem  of  fifty  black,  white,  copper-coloured,  and  pieballed  Venuses, 
from  the  ends  of  the  earth,  with  hourly  reinforcements  from  Africa, 
Greece,  and  the  indigenous  virtue  and  beauty  of  Bella  Italia  herself. 
The  real  Dey  of  Algiers  is  at  Naples,  with  a  household  of  grim 
Turks  and  swarthy  Moors — fierce  cimetar-bearers — men  of  the  pillaff 
and  the  poisoned  cup  —men  of  the  ataghan,  the  Koran,  and  the  sacred 
kettle — the  rice-eating,  wine-abhorring,  opium- swallowing,  and  blood- 
drinking.  And  all  this  romantic  scene,  so  dear  to  our  melo-dramatists, 
novel-writers,  and  girls  of  sixteen,  is  to  be  seen  at  this  moment  in  the 
city  of  Naples ;  for  the  journey  to  which  we  may  contract,  at  so  much 
per  head — eating,  drinking,  and  slumber  included — in  Cornhill. 

The  statement  of  the  Dey's  pearls,  his  turbans,  jewel-hilted  swords, 
and  gold  breakfast-cups,  is  enough  to  attract  all  the  thieves  of  London 
to  the  neighbourhood  of  Portici,  and  justify  a  second  French  expedition  for 
robbery  and  the  rights  of  man.  But  the  French  have  got  handsomely 
by  his  highness  already.  The  following  account  is  not  written  by 
Aladdin,  nor  to  be  found  in  the  Arabian  Nights : — but  is  from  Algiers. 

"  I  went  into  the  treasury ;  it  consists  of  four  vaulted  apartments  on 
the  ground  floor.  Round  each  chamber  there  are  repositories  each 
twelve  feet  long,  six  broad,  and  four  deep.  Some  were  full  of  quadru- 
ples, some  of  sequins  of  Venice,  others  contained  a  mixture  of  gold  coin, 
among  which  were  Portugal  pieces  of  168  francs.  Other  repositories 
were  filled  with  Spanish  piastres,  and  others  with  silver  coin  of  the 
regency.  One  apartment  only  had  no  repositories.  The  floor  was  covered 
to  the  depth  of  three  feet  with  Spanish  piastres.  There  was  also  dia- 
mond necklaces,  silver  vases,  &c.  When  I  entered,  several  men  were 
employed  in  taking  up  the  silver  and  gold  with  a  shovel,  and  putting  it 
into  a  scale,  which  was  emptied  into  chests  containing  about  sixty  kilo- 
grammes of  gold,  valued  at  3,000  francs  the  kilogramme.  Some  was  also 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  337 

put  into  barrels  to  be  sent  to  France.  The  coined  silver  which  has  been 
found  is  supposed  to  amount  to  18,000  cubic  feet,  besides  chests  filled 
with  gold  bars  and  doubloons/' 

In  Sir  H.  Davy's  "  Last  Days  of  a  Philosopher/'  a  title,  by  the  by, 
which  seems  the  last  that  the  modesty  of  a  true  philosopher  would 
assume,  there  are  some  observations  on  the  discoveries  for  which  we  are 
indebted  to  accident. 

"  Lucretius  attributes  to  accident  the  discovery  of  the  fusion  of  the 
metals  ;  a  person  in  touching  a  shell-fish,  observes,  that  it  emits  a  purple 
liquid  as  a  dye,  hence  the  Tyrian  purple  ;  a  clay  is  observed  to  harden 
in  the  fire,  and  hence  the  invention  of  bricks,  which  could  hardly  fail 
ultimately  to  lead  to  the  discovery  of  porcelain ;  even  glass,  the  most 
perfect  and  beautiful  of  those  manufactures  you  call  chemical,  is  said  to 
have  been  discovered  by  accident.  Theophrastus  states,  that  some  mer- 
chants, who  were  cooking  on  lumps  of  soda  or  natron,  near  the  mouth  of 
the  river  Belus,  observed  that  a  hard  and  vitreous  substance  was  formed 
where  the  fused  natron  ran  into  the  sand." 

The  philosopher  might  have  enlarged  his  list.  It  is  a  remarkable  cir- 
cumstance, that  almost  the  whole  of  those  great  leading  discoveries  by 
which  the  mastery  of  nature  is  given  to  man,  have  been  the  work  of 
what,  for  want  of  a  better  name,  we  call  accident.  Gunpowder,  print- 
ing, the  use  of  steam,  the  telescope,  the  mariner's  compass,  electricity, 
galvanism,  the  use  of  the  pendulum,  the  principle  of  gravitation,  together 
with  a  crowd  of  minor  discoveries  of  immeasurable  value,  have  been  all 
offered  to  us  by  means  beyond  our  power  or  our  expectation.  Is  it  "  to 
consider  the  matter  too  curiously,"  to  believe  that  this  constant  effect  has 
not  been  without  some  distinguishing  moral  cause  ?  In  a  physical  view 
we  know  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  accident.  But,  in  the  higher 
moral  contemplation,  may  we  not  conjecture,  that  this  unfailing  interpo- 
sition has  a  purpose,  perhaps  many  purposes ;  and  that  one  of  them  is  to 
remind  men,  however  engrossed  by  the  pride  of  heart,  so  peculiarly 
awakened  by  the  pride  of  science,  that  after  all,  its  greatness  is  adminis- 
tered from  a  mightier  fount  than  that  of  philosophy,  and  that  our  light 
is  darkness  until  it  is  visited  by  the  lustre  from  an  unclouded  throne. 

Our  great  English  absentees  deserve  to  be  soundly  punished  for  their 
ungenerous  expenditure  of  the  money,  which  as  they  got  from  England, 
they  should  give  back  to  England  ;  and  if  some  new  revolution  in  Italy 
or  Switzerland,  or  any  where  on  the  face  of  the  earth  shall  catch  them 
in  its  trap,  we  shall  rejoice  at  the  sorrows  of  the  dukes  and  earls, 
the  duchesses  and  countesses,  so  entrapped.  We  hope,  for  instance,  that 
that  papist  young  gentleman,  and  very  profound  patriot,  my  Lord 
Shrewsbury,  may  be  soundly  swinged  in  the  next  bustle  at  Rome,  and 
date  his  next  dispatches  from  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo.  Here  is  a 
patriot  who  spends  his  foolish  old  uncle's  donation  of  £40,000  a  year, 
among  the  saints  and  sinners  of  Rome,  yet  calls  himself  an  Englishman, 
and  talks  of  being  a  patriot  We  give  a  fragment  from  the  late  Lord 
Harcourt's  will,  as  a  model  that  ought  to  be  universally  adopted. 
This  will  directs,  "  That  if  the  person  who  shall  succeed  to  the  lands 
purchased  with  the  £80,000.  (left  in  the  first  instance  to  his  widow)  be 
absent  from  England  more  than  six  months  at  one  time,  unless  he  be  so 
in  the  civil  or  military  service  of  Great  Britain,  or  under  25  years  of 

M.M.  New  Series.— -Voi.  X.  No.  57.  2  U 


338  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [SEPT. 

age,  and  travelling  for  his  education,  he  shall  forfeit  the  advantages  of 
such  bequest."  We  hope  the  proviso  will  not  make  his  posterity  pecu- 
liarly anxious  for  office  on  any  terms. 

There  has  been  lately  a  prodigious  outcry  against  the  commissioners  of 
bankrupts.  But  by  whom  is  it  raised  ?  by  the  mob  of  bankrupts  them- 
selves ;  and  this  is  one  of  their  statements  : — 

"  It  appears,  that  out  of  62  persons  committed  to  Newgate  by  the 
commissioners  of  bankrupts,  from  the  15th  of  July,  1824,  to  the  16th  of 
February,  1830,  52  were  committed  by  one  list, — that  of  which  Mr. 
Impey  and  Mr.  Surtees  are  members.  Well  may  it  be  called  the  New- 
gate list.  These  gentlemen  have  lately  had  to  pay  a  large  sum  for  one 
of  their  committals." 

Mr.  Ainslie's  name,  we  believe,  should  be  added  to  the  list.  But  what 
is  the  truth  ?  The  whole  system  of  the  bankrupt  laws  is  framed  with  a 
lenity  which,  contemplating  only  the  honest  bankrupt,  is  abused  in  the 
most  scandalous  manner  by  the  fraudulent.  We  believe  it  to  be  a  fully 
ascertained  fact,  that  one  half  of  the  bankruptcies  are  fraudulent.  There 
are,  of  course,  shades  of  fraud,  from  the  wholesale  robber  of  the  public, 
who  makes  himself  a  bankrupt  for  the  direct  purpose  of  conveying  away 
the  property  of  his  creditors,  and  enabling  himself  to  start  breast-high  in 
the  world  again  ;  down  to  the  petty  larceny  bankrupt,  who  secretes  but  a 
portion  of  the  property  of  others,  and,  in  the  general  wreck,  makes  a 
privy  purse  for  himself.  But,  if  the  sternest  hand  of  the  law  grasped 
the  majority  of  bankrupts,  it  would  do  good  national  service.  As  the 
matter  now  stands,  the  commissioners  may  have  been  harsh  beyond  the 
general  custom.  But  where  is  the  tradesman  who  seems  to  be  the  worse 
for  his  bankruptcy  ?  In  a  multitude  of  instances  bankruptcy  is  clearly 
the  high  road  to  fortune.  The  merchant  whom  we  saw  in  the  Gazette  to- 
day, we  see  to-morrow  in  a  showy  establishment,  perhaps  with  a  villa, 
certainly  with  a  tilbury,  and  probably  a  barouche,  or  a  couple  of  them. 
He  has  slipped  through  the  fingers  of  the  law,  that  ought  to  have  been 
round  his  neck  ;  and  he  has  now  nothing  to  do  but  to  reinforce  his  servants' 
hall,  order  in  his  pipe  of  claret,  and  throw  open  his  doors  in  Portland- 
place,  or  Belgrave-square,  to  his  wife's  select  party  of  five  hundred 
friends.  His  next  step  is  a  borough  ;  or,  if  he  feel  popularly  inclined, 
a  canvass  for  the  county.  We  then  find  him  flourishing  for  a  year  or  two  in 
directorships,  the  management  of  companies,  the  proprietorship  of  canals, 
and  the  projectorship  of  every  new-fangled  contrivance  for  the  robbery 
of  every  man  who  is  silly  enough  to  confide  in  him.  Then  comes  the 
crush  again.  The  man  of  plums  and  prosperity  again  sinks  into  the 
Gazette,  again  comes  out  of  it  clear  as  the  new-born  babe,  again  sets  up  the 
counting-house,  the  curricle,  the  villa,  and  leads  a  life  of  impudent  defi- 
ance of  the  common  honesty  of  mankind,  and  insolent  indulgence  in 
every  luxury  that  fraud  can  supply ;  until  the  bloated  feeder  on  public 
credulity  and  legal  weakness  goes  in  pomp  to  a  grave,  to  which  he 
ought  to  have  been  ushered  by  the  gallows. 

We  may  rely  on  it,  that  if  we  want  to  perpetuate  an  abuse,  we  cannot 
lay  a  better  cement  for  it  than  eating  and  drinking.  The  select  vestries 
would  not  have  held  together  a  year  but  for  their  dinners,  which  they 
etill  give,  to  the  discomfiture  of  all  their  enemies. 

"  A  curious  scene  lately  occurred  at  Guildhall.,  between   the   select 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  339 

vestry  of  St.  Bartholomew  the  Great,  and  the  reformers  of  that  parish, 
who  had  obtained  an  order,  calling  upon  them  to  pass  their  accounts. 
The  following  were  among  the  items  : — 

For  an  Easter  dinner  --         -         -£700 

And  for  another         -         -         -         -     v>-       14     0     0 
For  beautifying  the  beadle's  staff         -         -         670 
For  a  visit  to  a  Mr.  Sewell          -         -         -         110 
And  to  the  poor  at  Sewell's  farm          -         -         040 
Mr.  Prendergast  attended  for  the  excluded,  and  spoke  with  great  indig- 
nation against  the  accounts ;  but  he  was  met  by  the  Select   with   an 
assertion,  that  his  own  father,  when  he  was  churchwarden  of  the  parish, 
had  signed  the  accounts  of  the  very  expenditure  which  he  complained  of, 
and  had  even  signed  a  bill  allowing  6s.  a-piece  for  four  fowls." 

Of  the  argumentum  ad  hominem  which  seems  to  have  overthrown  the 
patriotism  of  Mr.  Prendergast,  we  can  say  nothing,  but  that  either  the 
fowls  were  fat,  or  that  the  poulterer,  to  whom  their  eaters  paid  six  shil- 
lings a-piece  for  them,  must  have  been  a  prodigious  favourite  with  the 
select  vestry.  We  have,  too,  the  pleasant  contrast  of  twenty-one  pounds 
for  two  dinners  of  those  righteous  superintendents  of  the  parish,  and 
four  shillings  for  a  visit  to  the  poor — meaning,  we  suppose,  for  the  cha- 
rity distributed  among  them.  Why  are  those  things  done  ? — For  the 
obvious  reason,  that  the  parties  who  are  to  have  the  profit  have  the 
expenditure. 

In  those  vestries,  the  tradesmen  of  the  parish  always  either  outnumber, 
or  out  weary  the  gentlemen.  If  a  contract  for  beef  is  proposed  for  the 
workhouse,  the  butcher  brings  his  voters,  and  they  at  once  settle  the 
rate  of  the  contract,  and  give  the  bargain  to  their  leader.  This  is  not 
the  clearest  way  in  the  world  to  get  the  beef  cheap ;  but  it  is  by  no 
means  the  worst  to  put  money  into  the  pocket  of  the  parish  carnifex. 
'  If  some  acute  eye  discover  that  the  pulpit  wants  a  new  velvet  and 
gold  waistcoat,  the  chief  tailor  comes  down  with  a  tailor-levy  en  masse, 
settles  that  never  was  there  a  pulpit  in  so  scandalous  a  state  of  nudity,  and 
rewards  himself  for  his  parochial  zeal  by  a  couple  of  hundred  pounds 
for  work  of  the  value  of  fifty.  The  carpenter  has  his  ligneous  detections 
too,  and  his  tribe  of  the  adze  and  hammer  to  beat  conviction  into  the 
brains  of  his  compatriot  menders  and  makers  ;  who,  indeed,  being  fully 
aware  that  one  good  turn  deserves  another,  would  deem  it  the  most 
indelicate  thing  possible  to  interfere  with  the  profits  of  their  worthy 
brother  Bladebone,  or  their  excellent  fellow-parishioner,  Mr.  Chip. — 

"  So  runs  the  parish  world  away  ; 
And  rogues  combine,  that  fools  may  pay." 

One  of  the  phenomena  of  the  late  elections  is,  that  the  rich  have 
gone  out  and  the  poor  have  got  in.  This  is  a  fine  promise  of  the  scenes 
that  the  years  1831,  and  the  following  will  produce.  Brougham  for 
Yorkshire — here  is  an  omen  for  the  radicals !  Brougham  for  the  first 
county  in  England,  the  representative  of  a  million  of  farmers  and 
blacksmiths — aye,  and  the  sole  representative,  for  little  Lord  Morpeth 
is  only  fit  to  "  amble  in  a  lady's  chamber,"  and  spout  speeches  out  of 
"  Cato."  We  should  not  be  surprised  if,  now  that  he  is  convinced  that 
Leech  will  not  die,  nor  Peel  relinquish  his  salary  while  he  can  keep  it ; 
Brougham  should  at  last  suffer  one  manly  thought  to  come  into  his 
heart  or  head,  and  attempt  to  play  prime  minister-himself.  Why  not  ? 

2  U  2 


340  Notes  of  the  Month  on  Affairs  in  General.  [ 

The  Treasury  Bench  is  open  to  him.  There  is  not  a  man  upon  it  fit  to 
"  asperge  his  shoes/'  as  Lord  Alvanley  phrases  it.  And  as  for  Welling* 
ton  ;  the  field-marshal,  however  angry,  can  shew  it  only  by  shooting 
him,  in  which  case  we  recommend  the  application  of  a  Jieri  facias  to 
his  Grace,  and  a  latitat  to  the  lawyer.  Then  comes  Hume,  radical  to 
the  midriff,  and  indeed  not  knowing  how  to  be  any  thing  else,  member 
for  Middlesex,  sole  member;  for  his  worthy  colleague,  Byng,  is  not  worth 
a  straw,  so  far  as  brains  go.  Then  Sir  Robert  Wilson,  radical  to  the 
extremity  of  his  understanding  (sole  member,  for  we  suppose  his  hatter- 
colleague  will  not  trouble  him  much),  and  now  Lieutenant-General 
besides,  and  capable  of  taking  command  on  a  much  more  showy  scale 
than  any  thing  in  the  shape  of  a  Tyburn-gate  quarrel.  Then  Waith- 
man  and  Wood,  a  pair  of  asses,  but  accustomed  to  the  radical  pannier, 
and  equal  to  their  weight.  Hunt  and  Cobbett  are  still  deficient.  But 
they  will  come  yet.  "  Fine  times  you  young  people  will  see,'/  said 
Voltaire,  when  he  cast  a  glance  over  the  Parisians  prating  about  the 
Rights  of  Man. 

We  want  no  revolution  here,  and  we  shall  cheerfully  join  in  the 
hanging  of  the  first  radical  representative  who  proposes  to  compile  one. 
But  we  shall  see  things  yet  that  our  forefathers  have  not  seen. 

In  the  mean  time  we  give  a  list  of  the  prices  which  it  cost  to  be  an 
orator,  or  have  the  pleasure  of  listening  to  Sir  R.  Peel's  speeches  on 
the  constitution,  in  the  last  Parliament. 

The  last  Leicester  election  cost  Mr.  Evans  19,000/.,  Otway  Cave, 
10,000/.,  Sir  Charles  Hastings,  16,000/.,  and  the  corporation,  16,000/., 
in  all,  61,000/.—  -Warwick  costs  27,000/.,  without  bribery;  Stafford, 
1  4,000  /.,  where  the  voters  displayed  the  Beaumont  cockades,  said  to  be 
worth  51.,  each,  in  their  hats.  The  china  of  the  Camelford  voters  was 
occasionally  wrapped,  by  accident,  in  one  pound  bank-notes.  The 


Northumberland  elections  cost  a  very  large  sum  ;  Mr.  Bell  proa^r 
paid  between  60  and  70,000/.  for  his  seat  of  two  months  from  February^p, 
and  his  four  sessions'  seat  from  July,  1826.  Mr.  Liddle  probably 
50,000/.,  Lord  Howick,  12,000/.,  and  Mr.  Beaumont  was  charged  up- 
wards of  100,000/.,  though  he  contrived  to  pay  a  much  smaller  sum.  — 
Yorkshire  cost  Mr.  Marshall  30,000/.  ;  and  in  1806,  the  same  county, 
in  the  great  party  contest  between  Earl  Fitzwilliam  and  the  Earl  of 
Hare  wood,  cost  the  former  150.000/.,  and  the  latter  160,000/.,  whose 
son,  the  present  Earl  of  Harewood,  then  Viscount  Lascelles,  lost  the 
election  ;  40..000/.  were  raised  by  subscription  to  support  Mr.  Wilber- 
force,  but  only  253000/.  were  expended,  the  remainder  being  given  by 
the  Committee  to  various  public  charities.  —  The  contest  between  Lord 
Belgrave  and  Sir  J.  C.  Egerton,  for  Chester,  cost  Lord  Grosvenor 
70,000/.  ;  and  eventually,  it  is  estimated,  more  than  300,OOOZ." 

We  say,  down  with  the  buyers  and  sellers  both,  and  long  live  KING 
WILLIAM  ! 


1830.] 


341 


MONTHLY  REVIEW  OF  LITERATURE,  DOMESTIC  AND  FOREIGN. 


Conversations  on  Religion  with  '  Lord 
Byron,  Ly  the  late  Dr.  Kennedy. — The 
late  Dr.  Kennedy  was  an  army  physi- 
cian—a man  of  serious  sentiments,  and 
of  course,  among  military  men,  bore  the 
appellation  of  a  methodist,  though  very 
for  from  being  a  mere  sectarian.  When 
stationed  at  Cephalonia,  he  found,  to 
his  surprise,  several  of  his  associates, 
chiefly  of  the  medical  class,  more  or  less 
tinged  with  infidelity,  and  he,  as  any 
man  deeply  impressed  with  the  realities 
of  revelation  would  do,  endeavoured,  on 
many  occasions,  in  season,  and  perhaps 
out  of  season,  to  combat  the  irreverent, 
and,  as  they  seemed  to  him,  erroneous 
notions  of  these,  many  of  them,  in  other 
respects,  intelligent  officers.  As  Dr. 
Kennedy  insisted  frequently  on  the  im- 
pregnability of  the  Christian  cause,  a 
kind  of  compact  was  made  to  discuss  its 
evidences  ; — he  was  to  lecture — they 
were  to  listen ;  no  interruption  was  to 
be  made  till  he  had  gone  through  the 
series,  and  then,  being  thus  in  posses- 
sion of  the  necessary  information,  they 
were  to  propose  their  further  objec- 
tions, and  he  was  to  refute — of  his  own 
competency  for  which  he  had  no  doubt. 
Just  before  the  first  of  these  meetings 
took  place,  Lord  Byron  arrived  in  Ce- 
phalonia, and  being  detained  longer  than 
he  had  expected  from  crossing  to  the 
*»ntinent  of  Greece,  he  was  induced, 
''^rtly  from  curiosity,  or  in  pursuit  of 
amuseme"ht,  with  some  expectation  too, 
doubtless,  of  shewing  off,  to  join  the 
party.  He  attended,  accordingly,  the 
first  meeting —broke  of  course  the  con- 
dition of  silence,  and  did  not  repeat  his 
attendance.  Soon  afterwards,  however, 
opportunities  occurred  of  farther  con- 
versation in  a  more  private  manner — 
the  details  of  which  furnish  some  part  of 
the  volume  before  us.  The  impression 
left  upon  the  reader  is  one  very  favour- 
able to  Dr.  Kennedy  as  to  earnestness, 
zealous  exertion,  and  virtuous  inten- 
tion, but  the  details  afford  numerous 
proofs  of  incompetency,  sometimes  from 
want  of  knowledge,  and  often  from  lack 
of  tact  and  judgment.  His  own  faith 
was  of  too  indiscriminating  a  cast ;  he 
had  no  notion  that  one  point  of  doctrine 
could  be  more  revolting  than  another  in 
the  mind  of  any  inquiring  person,  and 
he  was,  consequently,  equally  peremp- 
tory upon  all.  Obviously  he  was  inca- 
pable of  measuring  impressions,  and  had 
little  suspicion  that  the  same  argument, 
however  distinctly  and  fervently  stated, 
might  not  produce  the  same  effect  upon 
every  mind ;  but,  above  all,  he  could 
not  distinguish  when  Lord  Byron  was 
mystifying,  and  when  he  was  serious, 


which,  for  our  own  parts,  we  do  not  be- 
lieve he  was,  for  a  moment,  with  Dr. 
Kennedy,  though  he  did  not  dislike  to 
have  himself  talked  about ;  and  he  saw 
the  doctor,  dazzled  by  his  "  reputation, 
and  his  rank,  and  his  wealth,"  was  the 
very  man  to  accomplish  this  for  him. 

The  tone  Dr.  Kennedy  takes— it  was 
no  doubt  in  him  a  natural  one — is  one 
of  the  most  perfect  self-satisfaction  ;  he 
has  knowledge,  faith,  grace,  while  his 
audience,  and  especially  poor  Lord  By- 
ron, he  regards  as  altogether  in  sin  and 
unregenerate,  and  above  all,  ignorant  in 
spiritual  matters.  They  must  be  treated 
as  babes— fed  with  milk  and  not  with 
meat.  They  were  to  be  crammed  with 
the  husks  and  shells,  while  they  were 
themselves  eager  to  seize  at  once  upon 
the  kernel.  They  knew  well  enough 
the  general  nature  of  the  question;  he 
spoke  as  if  they  did  not — they  supposed, 
naturally  enough,  he  had  something 
new  to  'produce,  and  the  novelty  was 
what  they  were  solicitous  to  get  at.  Dr. 
Kennedy  talked  of  grace.  "  What  do 
you  mean  by  grace,"  interrupted  Lord 
Byron,  not  irrationally.  The  answer 
amounted  to— divine  favour,  and  a  self- 
consciousness  of  it — which  of  course  re- 
solved into  personal  testimony  and  per- 
sonal judgment,  both  of  which  are  fal- 
lible matters,  and  not  at  all  calculated 
to  carry  instant  conviction.  But  the 
truth  is,  Dr.  Kennedy  wanted  to  have 
all  his  own  way — not  to  discuss,  but  to 
preach  and  detail,  while  Lord  Byron 
had  obviously  scarcely  any  other  aim 
than  to  amuse  himself— if  possible  to 
baffle  his  teacher,  and  exhibit  his  own 
dexterity.  Dr.  Kennedy  talked  again  of 
demonstration — the  evidences  of  Chris- 
tianity were  as  susceptible  of  demon- 
stration as  any  proposition  of  Eu- 
clid. This  is  nonsense;  we  do  not 
judge  of  coincidence  and  equality  as  we 
judge  of  testimony.  Mere  testimony 
never  can  be  demonstrative  ;  we  act,  to 
be  sure,  every  day  upon  it,  but  then  it 
is  because  we  are  confirmed  repeatedly 
and  successively  by  things  which  do  not 
depend  upon  testimony— the  testimony 
of  others  we  mean— but  the  evidence  of 
facts,  or  of  our  senses. 

Lord  Byron  did  not  like  to  be  called 
an  infidel— not,  as  Dr.  Kennedy  seems 
to  think,  because  the  expression  im- 
plied a  disbelief  of  revelation,  but  be- 
cause the  term  has  come  to  convey  a 
moral  reprobation — it  is  equivalent  to 
calling  a  person  not  a  man  of  honour. 
In  one  of  his  visits  to  Lord  Byron,  Dr. 
Kennedy  asks,  "  Does  your  lordship 
read  your  bible?"  — "Oh  yes,  every 
day." — "Do  you  pray  on  your  bended 


342 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[SEPT. 


knees  ?" — "  No ;  I  have  not  got  so  far ; 
you  expect  too  rapid  an  advance." — 
Another  time — "  I  am  in  a  fair  way," 
cries  Lord  Byron ;  "  I  believe  in  pre- 
destination, and  the  depravity  of  the 
human  heart,  and  of  my  own  in  parti- 
cular—I  shall  get  at  the  other  points 
by  and  by." — "  Do  you  know,"  said  he, 
on  another  occasion,  "  I  am  nearly  re- 
conciled to  St.  Paul,  for  he  says,  '  there 
is  no  difference  between  the  Jews  and 
the  Greeks,'  and  I  am  exactly  of  the 
same  opinion,  for  the  character  of  both 
is  equally  vile."  Is  it  possible  Dr.  Ken- 
nedy could  not  see  that  the  noble  lord 
was  quizzing  ?  "•  I  like  the  pope,"  says 
Lord  Byron,  "  for  he  has  issued  an  or- 
der that  no  more  miracles  shall  be  per- 
formed." Dr.  Kennedy  speaks  of  one 
of  his  converts  relapsing.  "  I  am  sorry 
to  hear  of  this  failure,"  says  Lord  By- 
ron, "  in  one  of  your  converts — it  will 
throw  me  back  ten  years  in  my  conver- 
sion." Once  he  observed  —  "  If  the 
whole  world  were  going  to  hell,  I  would 
prefer  going  with  tnem,  than  go  alone  to 
heaven."  Good  Dr.  Kennedy  thought, 
if  it  came  to  the  test,  his  decision  would 
be  different ;  and  gravely  adds,  the  ob- 
servation indicated  equally  the  selfish- 
ness of  man,  and  an  ignorance  of  the 
true  nature  of  the  Christian  religion. 
In  the  course  of  conversation,  Dr.  Ken- 
nedy remarked  —  "  If  it  depended  on 
me,  judging  by  mere  feelings  of  hu- 
manity, I  would  have  all  saved,  I  would 
have  no  hell  at  all,  but  pardon  all,  pu- 
rify all,  and  send  all  to  equal  happi- 
ness."— "  Nay,"  exclaimed  some  of  the 
party,  "I  would  not  save  all." — "  / 
would  save,"  cried  Lord  Byron,  "  my 
sister,  and  my  daughter,  and  some  of 
my  friends,  and  a  few  others,  and  let 
the  rest  shift  for  themselves." — "  And 
your  wife  also,  "  I  exclaimed. — "  No," 
said  he. — "  But  your  wife,  surely  you 
would  save  your  wife?"  —  "Well,  I 
would  save  her  if  you  like."  All  this 
badinage  the  good  doctor  takes  and  re- 
peats with  the  gravest  solemnity. 

The  fact  seems  to  be,  Lord  Byron 
was  full  of  flippancy — one  half  of  what 
he  uttered  was  for  effect,  and  the  other 
without  any  definite  object — it  was  just 
what  came  uppermost,  with  an  utter 
carelessness  of  who  might  suffer  from 
the  remark.  The  Unitarians  were 
spoken  of.  "  Their  religion,"  said  his 
lordship,  as  if  he  cared,  or  really  knew 
any  thing  of  the  matter,  "  seems  to  be 
spreading  very  much.  Lady  Byron  is  a 
great  orte  among  them,  and  much  looked  up 
to.  She  and  I  used  to  have  a  great  many 
discussions  on  religion,  and  some  of  our 
differences  arose  from  this  point ;  but  on 
comparing  all  the  points  together,  I 
found  that  her  religion  was  very  similar  to 
mine."  We  do  not  doubt,  this,  almost 
every  word  of  it,  is  fudge.  What  fol- 


lows we  know  to  be  false.  "  Lady  Byron 
has  just  written  to  me  to  ask  my  pre- 
sentation of  a  church  to  a  person  who  is 
not  well  fitted,  in  my  opinion,  for  the 
charge,  as  he  is  too  much  a  man  of  the 
world.  The  presentation,  in  fact,  be- 
longs to  her,  and  not  to  me,  although 
she  has  politely  asked  me,  as  if  it  de- 
pended on  my  will.  I  have  written  to 
her  that  certainly  the  person  might 
have  it  if  she  pleased."  Circumstantial 
as  this  sounds,  there  is  not  one  word  of 
truth  in  it.  The  calumniated  lady  has 
had  no  such  presentation  to  dispose  of. 
Is  it  not  lamentable  that  her  name 
should  be  thus  bandied  on  all  sides — 
Ex  uno  disce  omnes. 

Journal  of  a  Tour  made  by  Senor  Juan 
de  Vega,  the  Spanish  Minstrel  of  1828-9, 
through  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  —  a 
Character  assumed  by  an  English  Gentle- 
man. 2  vols.  8vo. — This  professes  to  be 
a  bona-fide  tour  made  by  an  English 
gentleman  under  the  character  of  a 
Spanish  minstrel,  and  such  we  must 
suppose  it  to  be,  though  for  any. thing 
we  know,  the  character  and  tour  alike 
may  be  all  assumed.  The  incidents 
recorded,  however,  exhibit  no  obvious 
violation  of  probability.  If  it  be  all 
invention,  it  is  at  least  well  invented ; 
and  if  it  be  genuine,  there  is  enough  to 
annoy  numbers,  while  something  will 
remain  to  flatter  and  conciliate  a  few. 
"  The  author  had  travelled,"  he  tells 
us,  "  in  Columbia — was  well  acquainted 
with  the  habits  and  manners  of  Spani- 
iards — spoke  the  language  with  sonic 
fluency — had  the  dusky  complexion  oj 
the  natives,  and  knew  some  Spanish 
emigrants  personally,  and  many  others 
by  name  —  and  so  was  tolerably  well 
qualified  to  play  the  part  he  had  under- 
taken." Equipped  with  a  cloak  and  a  gui- 
tar, and  throwing  open  his  shirt-collar, 
he  cast  himself  recklessly  upon  the  gui- 
dance of  chance,  trusting  solely  to  the 
charms  of  his  instrument  for  silver  and 
copper  to  pay  the  charges  of  his  ven- 
ture. No  reason  is  given  for  risking 
the  chances  of  starvation,  by  starting 
with  only  a  shilling  or  two  in  his  purse  ; 
for  though  first  or  last  he  gathered  from 
£50.  to  £60.,  he  was  frequently  ex- 
posed to  considerable  difficulties.  This 
may  throw  some  doubt  upon  the  tale. 
The  tour,  which  lasted  for  ten  months, 
commenced  on  the  Kent  Road,  was  con- 
tinued across  the  south  through  Hast- 
ings, Salisbury,  &c.  to  Bath  andBristol ; 
from  thence  along  the  Welsh  coast  to 
Dublin,  and  finally  closed  at  Glasgow 
and  Edinburgh.  Every  where  he  met 
with  civility,  and  often  with  the  ten- 
derest  sympathy,  under  the  supposition 
of  his  being  a  Spanish  exile,  compelled 
to  abandon  his  country  by  the  tyranny 
of  the  government.  Many  he  beguiled 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


343 


of  their  tears,  and  sotne  of  their  affec- 
tions. Pretty  girls,  indeed,  are  con- 
stantly in  his  thoughts,  and  were  the 
perpetual  object  of  his  pursuit,  and 
Kissing  stories  abound  ad  nauseam.  In 
Wales  he  tells  a  graceless  tale  of  bund- 
ling with  an  innocent  native,  and  fond- 
ling with  school  girls  occurs  almost  at 
every  turn. 

Of  the  provincial  habits  of  both  Eng- 
lish and  Irish,  the  author,  in  a  very 
aristocratic  tone,  professes  he  had  but 
little  knowledge ;  and  the  opportunities 
such  a  tour,  in  such  a  disguise,  were 
likely  to  furnish  for  extending  it,  he 
represents  as  a  leading  motive  for  the 
undertaking.  Nor  was  he  disappointed. 
He  was  of  necessity  thrown  very  much 
among  the  lowest  classes,  because,  to 
keep  up  appearances,  he  was  obliged  to 
take  up  his  lodgings  very  frequently  in 
cheap  public  houses;  and  scenes  of  no- 
velty, coarse  and  ludicrous,  often  pre- 
sented themselves  in  all  the  naivete,  of 
simplicity.  But  often,  however,  the 
warm  S3rmpathy  felt  for  his  supposed 
sufferings  in  a  patriotic  cause,  especially 
in  the  middle  ranks  of  life,  ensured  him 
the  kindest  welcome,  and  the  most  com- 
fortable accommodation.  Money  in  con- 
siderable sums  was  offered,  which,  be- 
yond the  demands  for  current  ex- 
pences,  he  steadily  declined.  In  the 
West  of  England,  the  lawyers  and  their 
ladies  were  conspicuously  his  friends—- 
their hospitality  was  unbounded,  they 
were  liberal  of  their  purses,  and  fur- 
nished him  with  introductions  from 
town  to  town.  In  Dublin,  he  was  in 
the  same  way  recommended  from  fa- 
mily to  family,  but  there  no  money  was 
forthcoming ;  the  ladies  were  unreason- 
able enough  to  think  civil  speeches  were 
compensation  enough  for  playing,  and 
equivalents  for  bed  and  board.  Hospi- 
tality was  cold  among  them,  and  he  was 
compelled  at  last  to  stipulate  for  pay- 
ment— no  money,  no  music.  He  tells 
all — professedly  to  expose  meanness  ; — 
and  one  eminent  lady,  to  whom  we  will 
not  farther  allude,  must  feel  no  little 
annoyance  at  the  tale  he  tells ;  he  re- 
presents her,  no  doubt,  under  some  mis- 
apprehension, as  actually  shirking  the 
payment  of  an  evening's  tweedle-dum- 
ing. 

The  sums  collected  on  his  tour,  he 
states,  were  finally  handed  over  to  the 
funds  for  relieving  Spanish  emigrants. 

The  concluding  remarks  of  his  book 
are  in  a  more  elevated  tone  of  sentiment 
than  any  thing  the  rest  of  it  furnishes, 
and  are  creditable  at  once  to  his  own 
feelings,  and  the  kind  hearts  he  duped. 

Having  now  completed  my  romantic  career,  and 
coolly  taken  a  retrospective  view  of  the  various 
incidents  I  have  met  with,  I  feel  truly  gratified,  and 
richly  recompensed  for  the  numerous  difficulties 
I  encountered.  In  every  respect  have  my  origi- 


nal anticipations  been  realized  ;  nay,  to  a  much 
greater  degree  than  I  could  have  expected.  Man- 
kind—Its intricate  ways,  its  curious  fabric,  its 
cunning  machinations,  as  well  as  generous  sen- 
timents, have  been  widely  laid  open  to  me.  I 
have  noticed  its  callousness  in  adversity,  and  ever 
ready  to  ensnare  the  unwary  for  its  own  advan- 
tage —  I  have  seen  it  recoil  with  horror  at  the 
thought  of  dishonour — I  have  seen  it  penurious 
to  excess,  unwilling  to  part  with  a  mite  of  its 
superabundance  for  the  joy  of  relieving  a  fellow 
creature— I  have  seen  it,  and  I  glory  in  saying 
so,  made  up  of  generosity  itself,  and  feel  a  pain 
in  the  publicity  of  its  virtuous  deeds  — I  have 
seen  it  in  all,  or  many  of  its  raried  shapes.  Once 
I  thought,  before  I  took  this  journey,  that  man 
was  principally  selfish,  and  all  his  movements 
were  greatly  actuated  by  egotistical  feelings :  that 
pure  sympathy  was  not  in  him.  This  opinion  did 
I  entertain  from  the  artificial  society  I  had  al- 
ways been  accustomed  to  move  in — where  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  are  regulated  by  rule,  not 
by  nature— where  every  one  endeavours  to  make 
himself  appear  as  virtuous  and  amiable  as  possi- 
ble, little  attending  to  the  practice :— but  now  are 
my  opinions  widely  different.  I  have  seen  him 
in  the  greatest  retirement,  as  well  as  dissipa- 
tion, where  his  true  nature  is  displayed— where 
thoughts  rise  freely  from  every  thing  that  sur- 
rounds him — where  the  heart  sympathizes  with 
distress,  without  the  mechanical  reflection  or  sus- 
picion of  a  dissipated  town— where  the  hand  and 
heart  are  ever  ready  to  assist.  This  is  man  as  / 
have  found  him,  when  his  real  nature  is  allowed 
volition  ;  and  I  am  happy  to  say,  that  I  have  had 
innumerable  opportunities  of  witnessing  and  feel 
ing  the  charms  of  pure,  unsophisticated,  hospit- 
able, and  benevolent  deeds. 

Researches  In  Natural  History,  ~by  John 
Murray — not  the  publisher — but  F.S.A., 
F.L.S.,  F.H.S.,  F.G.S.,  $c.  &c.— Mr. 
Murray  is  a  zealous  student  or  Natural 
History.  His  notices  of  the  Gossamer 
Spider,  some  time  ago,  elicited  some  su- 
percilious remarks  from  a  Mr.  Rennie — 
the  author,  it  appears,  of  Insect  Archi- 
tecture -to  which  a  second  edition  fur- 
nishes Mr.  Murray  an  opportunity  of 
replying.  Mr.  Murray  stated,  he  had 
seen  with  his  own  eyes  one  of  these 
spiders,  by  candle  light,  dart  its  thread 
to  the  ceiling,  at  an  angle  of  80°,  eight 
feet ;  and  at  another  time,  on  a  warm 
day,  and  in  brilliant  sunshine,  had  seen 
the  same  insect,  or  perhaps  another,  we 
do  not  quite  recollect  which,  while  in 
the  act  of  propelling  its  threads  in  all 
directions,  suddenly  cast  one  towards 
the  door,  which  happened  to  be  ajar, 
quite  horizontally,  and  in  length  full 
ten  feet.  Round  this  same  thread,  too, 
was  distinctly  perceptible  an  aura,  which 
Mr.  M.  concludes  was  electric.  This 
thread,  moreover,  thus  electrified,  con- 
stitutes the  spider's  balloon,  and  enables 
it  to  ascend  into  the  air,  which  it  is 
known  to  do.  On  the  other  hand,  Mr. 
Rennie  somewhat  rudely  affirms — the 
spider  has  no  such  power  of  projection  ; 
he  does  not  believe  it  could  propel  a 


344 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[TSKPT. 


thread  half  an  inch  by  the  stoutest  effort 
it  could  make  ;  and  as  to  the  balloon  and 
the  electricity— nonsense — the  ascent  of 
the  thread  depends  altogether  upon  the 
wind.  And  thus  the  parties  are  at  is- 
sue— for  Mr.  Murray,  though  he  re- 
plies, has  no  further'  evidence  to  pro- 
duce ;  and  it  must  be  confessed  his  ac- 
count is  a  little  astounding,  and  well 
warrants  Mr.  llennie's  surprise,  but  not 
his  lack  of  courtesy.  Let  both  keep 
their  temper  close,  and  their  eyes  open. 
The  volume  contains  some  account  cf 
the  old  tortoise  so  long  domiciliated  in 
the  palace  gardens  of  Peterborough.  The 
particulars  were  communicated,  in  reply 
to  an  application,  by  the  Bishop,  Her- 
bert Marsh,  himself. 

.  A  Treatise  on  Atmospherical  Electricity, 
including  Lightning  Rods  and  Paragrtles, 
by  ths  same  John  Murray. — Mr.  Murray, 
in  this  little  treatise  on  Atmospherical 
Electricity,  has  collected  the  phseno- 
mena  with  great  industry,  and  is  very 
earnest  in  recommending  the  farther  ap- 
plication of  lightning  rods,  or  paragreles, 
as  they  are  styled  on  the  continent,  for 
the  protection  of  crops  and  plantations, 
and  especially  of  the  hop-grounds  of  our 
own  country.  The  honey-dew,  found 
upon  the  hop-leaves,  he  conceives  is, 
some  way  or  other,  occasioned  by  elec- 
tric clouds ;  and  then  the  honey-dew 
brings  the  aphides,  which,  in  sipping 
the  said  dew,  some  how  or  other  suck 
out  the  life  of  the  plant.  Now  these 
same  paragreles- — that  is,  if  made  of 
copper,  and  not  of  iron — stuck  over  a 
plantation,  will  avert  those  perilous 
honey  -  dew  -  bringing  clouds,  and  the 
aphides,  of  course,  must  then  look  else- 
where for  a  dinner.  Mr.  Murray's  old 
opponent,  the  same  Mr.  Rennie,  men- 
tioned in  the  last  article,  ridicules  this 
notion.  Mr.  Murray,  he  insists,  has 
mistaken  the  order  and  sequence  of 
things;  the  aphides  come  before  the 
honey-dew,  for  the  honey-dew  is  their 
own  excretion ;  and  he  has  with  his  own 
eyes,  through  a  microscope,  observed 
the  very  act  of  excretion,  and  ascer- 
tained the  matter  by  another  of  his  five 
senses.  This  fact,  as  he  chooses  to  call 
it,  he  published  in  "  The  Times,"  which 
of  course  makes  Mr.  Murray  very  angry, 
because  it  was  by  mere  accident  he 
discovered  the  communication,  and  so 
might  have  been  exposed  to  miscon- 
struction at  least  with  the  readers  of 
'•  The  Times,"  and  they  are,  we  believe, 
pretty  numerous.  In  his  new  edition, 
Mr.  Murray  defends  his  position,  but 
not,  we  are  afraid,  with  much  effect. 
He  concedes -at  least  it  appears  so  to 
us — that  this  same  honey-dew  may  be 
sometimes  the  excretion  of  the  aphides. 
This,  we  think,  is  almost  betraying  the 
citadel;  we  have  no  notion  that  the 


food  of  any  animal  ever  wears  the  same 
appearance  with  its  excrement,  and 
passes  through  the  process  of  digestion 
unchanged. 

Cabinet  Cyclopaedia, — the  first  morceau 
of  Sir  James  Mackintosh's  long-looked  for 
History  of  England.  —  Sir  James  Mack- 
intosh suffered  himself  to  be  exhibited 
by  the  Editor  of  the  Cabinet  Cyclo- 
paedia, as  really  intending  to  comprise 
the  whole  history  of  the  country,  through 
eighteen  centuries,  in  three  toilette  vo- 
lumes, though,  certainly,  never  famed 
for  any  extraordinary  powers  of  com- 
pression. The  absurdity  struck  every 
body,  and  the  editor,  alarmed  at  the 
general  feeling  of  distrust,  availed  him- 
self of  an  idle  report — a  mere  publishing 
ruse  probably — to  .announce  the  new 
determination  of  Sir  James  to  expand 
the  three  dainty  volumes  into  eight — 
and  we  may  ask  what  are  they  to  do  ? 
Hume  fills  eight  goodly  octavos,  with- 
out getting  farther  than  the  revolution, 
and  who  ever  complained  of  his  pro- 
lixity ?  The  result  is — and  it  was  quite 
inevitable — that  events,  where  they  are 
not  altogether  passed  over,  are  inade- 
quately sketched ;  and  judgments,  we 
shall  not  say  hastily  formed,  but  too 
peremptorily  pronounced,  and  certainly 
not  upon  evidence  fairly  and  fully  pro- 
duced. Sir  James  may  be  as  correct  as 
man  can  be — we  scarcely  question  the 
soundness  or  the  shrewdnes  of  his  intel- 
lect, if  coolly  and  leisurely  exercised — 
but  matters  come  forth  far  too  much  in 
the  nature  of  ipse  dixits.  Even  com- 
mon incidents,  when  he  does  enter  into 
detail,  he  relates  as  he  finds  them  ;  and 
unless  they  involve  some  constitutional 
or  legal  question,  he  seems  never  to  see 
nonsense.  Take  an  instance  or  two. — • 
After  relating  how  Elgiva  had  her  face 
branded  with  hot  irons,  in  order,  he 
says,  to  destroy  her  fatal  attractions,  he 
adds,  as  he  finds  the  tale,  without  a 
thought  of  the  absurdity — "  when  her 
wounds  were  healed,  she  returned  in  all 
her  beauty"  Again,  the  Welsh  Prince, 
David,  he  describes  as,  "  after  being 
drawn  asunder  by  horses,  and  SEEING 
his  heart  and  bowels  burnt  before  his  face^ 
beheaded,"  &c.  These  are  trifles  per- 
hans,  but  they  shew  at  least  haste  or  in- 
difference, where  neither  ought  to  ap- 
pear, in  a  history  of  the  loftiest  pre- 
tension, by  a  man  of  tried  ability,  though 
not  in  this  line,  and  puffed  beyond  all 
measure — we  were  going  to  say,  all  en- 
durance. The  production,  in  short,  is 
nothing  but  a  commentary  upon  the 
History  of  England,  and  regarded  in 
the  most  favourable  light,  a  constitu- 
tional history  of  the  country — a  work 
which,  we  think,  upon  the  whole,  has 
already  been  well  and  learnedly  accom- 
plished by  Mr.  Hallam— a  man  of  the 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


345 


same  spirit  and  sentiments— as  diligent 
at  the  least—as  generally  competent, 
and  as  capable  of  sifting  confused  and 
contradictory  facts — though  less  disposed 
perhaps  to  moralize  in  vague  generali- 
ties, and  recast  familiar  sentiments  in 
imposing  forms.  Where,  however,  Sir 
James  has  exerted  himself,  it  is  with 
good  effect.  "  The  characteristic  quality 
of  English  history,"  says  he,  with  his 
usual  discernment  in  such  matters,  "  is, 
that  it  stands  alone  as  the  history  of  the 
progress  of  a  great  people  towards  li- 
berty during  six  centuries."  On  this 
point  he  keeps  his  eve  steadily  fixed, 
and  loses  no  opportunity  of  placing  the 
steps  prominently  before  the  reader. 
He  traces  them,  where  others  have  not 
always  found  them — 

The  bishops  succeeded  to  much  of  the  local 
power  of  the  Roman  magistrates ;  the  inferior 
clergy  became  the  teachers  of  their  conquerors, 
and  were  the  only  men  of  knowledge  dispersed 
throughout  Europe  ;  the  episcopal  authority  af- 
forded a  model  of  legal  power  and  regular  juris, 
diction,  which  must  have  seemed  a  prodigy  of 
wisdom  to  the  disorderly  victors.  The  synods 
and  councils  formed  by  the  clergy,  afforded  the 
first  pattern  of  elective  and  representative  as- 
semblies ,  which  were  adopted  by  the  independent 
genius  of  the  Germanic  race,  and  which,  being  pre- 
served for  many  ages  by  England,  promise,  in  the 
19th  century,  to  spread  over  a  large  portion  of 
mankind. 

Our  eyes  fell  upon  the  following  pas- 


The  writings  of  the  earliest  Christians  contain 
panegyrics  on  celibacy  which  cannot  be  reconciled 
to  reason,  though  they  may  be  excused  in  an  age 
when  the  moral  relations  of  the  sexes,  ofiohich 
the  principal  is  at  this  day  little  understood 
by  many  of  those  who  most  feel  the  obligation^ 
were  so  unsettled  as  continually  to  vibrate  be- 
tween the  most  extreme  points  of  extravagant 
austerity  and  gross  licentiousness. 

What  does  the  clause,  which  we  have 
put  in  italics,  mean  ?  Jt  reminds  us  of 
Jjeigh  Hunt,  who  was  perpetually,  in 
"  The  Examiner,"  harping  upon  this 
string,  and  apparently  in  the  same  key. 

Sir  James  is  certainly  too  prosy  for 
narrative. 

An  Account  of  the  Great  Floods  of  Au- 
gust 1829,  in  the  Province  of  Moray  and 
adjoining  Districts,  by  Sir  Thomas  Dick 
Lauder,  Bart.,  of  Fountain-hall. — Though 
a  matter  wholly  of  local  interest,  the 
able  and  interesting  manner  in  which 
the  writer  has  described  the  terrific 
scene  of  these  floods — the  destruction  of 
life  and  property  —  the  struggles  and 
escapes  of  individuals — the  energy  and 
activity  of  some,  the  resignation  and 
self-possession  of  others— the  sufferings 
of  the  poor  and  the  kindness  of  the  rich, 
is  calculated  not  merely  to  convey  a  cor- 
rect and  exciting  view  of  an  extraordi- 

M.M.  New  Series — VOL.  X.  No.  57. 


nary  event,  but  to  make  the  results 
conducive  to  the  best  moral  advantages. 
The  active  describer  himself  was  on  a 
spot  the  most  severely  visited,  and  wit- 
nessed the  devastation  of  his  own  long- 
cherished  and  ornamented  grounds. 

We  were  roused  while  at  dinner  (says  he)  by 
the  account  the  servants  gave  us  of  the  swollen 
state  of  the  rivers  ;  and  in  defiance  of  the  wea- 
ther, the  whole  party  sallied  forth.  We  took  our 
way  through  the  gar-den,  towards  the  favourite 
Mill  Island.  "  John,"  said  I,  to  the  gardener,  as 
he  was  opening  the  gate  that  led  to  it,  "  I  fear  our 
temple  may  be  in  some  danger  if  this  goes  on." — 
"  On,  Sir,  its  awa'  else,"  replied  he,  to  my  no 
small  dismay;  and  the  instant  we  had  passed  the 
gate,  the  Divie  appalled  u*.— And  now  the  mag- 
nificent trees  on  the  Mill  Island  were  overthrown 
faster  and  faster,  offering  no  more  resistance  to 
their  triumphant  enemy  than  reeds  before  the 
mower's  scythe.  Numerous  as  they  were,  they 
were  all  individually  well  known  friends.  Each 
as  it  fell  gave  one  enormous  plash  on  the  surface, 
then  a  plunge  ;  the  root  appeared  above  water  for 
a  moment;  again  all  was  submerged;  and  then 
up  rose  the  stem,  disbranched  and  peeled  ;  after 
which  they  either  toiled  round  in  the  cauldron,, or 
darted  like  arrows  down  the  stream.  A  chill  ran 
through  our  hearts  as  we  beheld  the  ruin  of  our 
favourite  and  long-cherished  spot  going  on. — 
Besides  the  loss  of  the  Mill  Island,  which  I  had 
looked  for,  the  beautiful  hanging  bank,  covered 
with  majestic  forest  and  ornamental  trees  of  all 
kinds,  and  of  growth  so  fresh  and  vigorous,  had 
vanished  like  the  scenery  of  a  dream  ;  and  in  its 
place  was  the  garden  hedge,  running  for  between 
200  and  300  yards  along  the  brink  of  a  red  allu- 
vial perpendicular  precipice  fifty  feet  high,  with 
the  broad  remorseless  flood  rolling  at  its  base, 
eating  into  its  foundation,  and  every  successive 
minute  bringing  down  masses  of  many  cubic 
yards.  And  then,  from  time  to  time,  some  tall 
and  graceful  tree,  on  the  brink  of  the  fractured 
portions  of  the  bank  at  either  end,  would  slowly 
and  magnificently  bend  its  head,  and  launch  into 
the  foaming  waves  below.  The  whole  scene  had 
an  air  of  unreality  about  it  that  bewildered  the 
senses.  It  xvas  like  some  of  those  wild  melo- 
dramatic exhibitions,  where  nature's  operations 
are  out-heroded  by  the  mechanist  of  a  theatre,  and 
where  mountains  are  thrown  down  by  artificial 
storms.  Never  did  the  unsubstantiality  of  all 
earthly  things  come  so  perfectly  home  to  my  con- 
viction. The  hand  of  God  appeared  to  be  at 
work,  and  I  felt  that  he  had  only  to  pronounce  his 
dread  fiat,  and  millions  of  such  worlds  as  that  we 
inhabit  would  cease  to  exist. 

The  flooding  rivers  were  the  Nairne, 
Findhorn,  and  Spey,  with  their  nume- 
rous tributaries.  All  the  low  interven- 
ing lands  were  covered,  and  the  bridges 
and  the  buildings  along  the  banks  were 
for  the  most  part  swept  away.  The 
plain  of  Torres  was  covered  to  an  ex- 
tent of  twenty  square  miles,  and  the 
destruction  of  property  every  where 
great.  The  Duke  of  Gordon's  loss 
amounted  to  £16,000.,  and  that  of  Lord 
Fife  to  £10,000.  ;  but  these  are  trifles 
compared  with  the  ruin  of  at  least  3,000 

2  X 


346 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[SEPT. 


humble  individuals,  whose  little  all  was 
swept  away.  Sir  Thomas  has  traced 
the  whole  line  of  the  rivers,  and  de- 
scribed the  successive  scenes  of  desola- 
tion, gathering  the  details  from  the  lips 
of  the  surviving  sufferers;  and  nume- 
rous are  the  marvellous  escapes,  and 
touching  are  often  the  generous  efforts 
of  bravery  to  rescue  the  miserable  vic- 
tims. Many  of  them  are  detailed  in  the 
vernacular,  and  have  all  the  interest  of 
a  romance. 

"And  how  did  you  escape?"  demanded. I,  with 
the  greatest  anxiety.  "  Ou,  troth,  just  upon  a 
brander,"  replied  the  widow  Cameron.  "  A 
brander,"  exclaimed  I,  with  astonishment,  aris- 
ing from  my  ignorance  that  the  word  was  applied 
to  any  tiling  else  than  to  a  Scotch  gridiron,  and 
thinking  that  the  riding  to  the  moon  on  a  broom, 
or  the  sailing  in  a  sieve  to  Norway,  were  nothing 
to  this — '<  a  brander,  what  do  you  mean  by  a 
brander?"—"  Ou,  just  a  bit  float,"  replied  the 
widow  ;  "  a  bit  raft  I  made  o'  thay  bit  palins  and 
bits  o'  moss-fir  that  war  lyin'  aboot." — "  What! 
and  your  children  too?"  exclaimed  I.—"  On  what 
else  ?"  replied  she,  amused  at  my  surprise  ;  '•  what 
could  I  have  done  wi'  them  else?  nae  horse  could 
hae  come  near  huz.  It  was  deep  eneugh  to  droon 
twa  horses." — "  And  how  did  you  feather  your- 
self over?"  inquired  I.  "Troth,  Sir,  I  hae  nae 
feathers,"  replied  Mrs.  Cameron,  very  simply ; 
*'  I'm  no  a  dewk  to  soom.  But,  ye  see,  I  sat  on  my 
hunkers  on  the  middle  o'the  brander,  wi'  my 
bairns  a'  about  me,  in  a  knot ;  and  the  wund, 
that  was  blawin'  strong  eneugh  frae  the  north, 
justteuk  us  safe  oot  to  the  land." — "  And  how  did 
your  neighbours  get  out  ?" — "  Ou,  fat  way  wad 
they  get  oot,  but  a'  thegither  Hpon  branders  ?" 

Let  the  reader  fancy  to  himself  this 
fleet  of  branders,  with  their  crews  of 
women  and  children,  floating  gallantly, 
vent  en  poupe,  towards  the  land,  and  he 
will  have  before  his  mind's  eye  a  scene 
fully  as  remarkable  as  any  which  this 
eventful  flood  produced. 

This  county  of  Moray  is  a  very  rug- 
ged district,  and  till  the  beginning  of 
the  present  century  had  felt  little  of  the 
benefits  of  civilization.  It  was,  how- 
ever, rapidly  advancing  in  amendment 
— the  roads  were  improving — mansions 
rebuilding  —  lands  draining  —  and  all 
looked  smiling.  It  had  always  been 
subject  to  floods,  but  great  pains  had 
been  taken  in  many  places  to  guard 
against  their  devastations.  But  the 
very  process  of  cultivation  and  improve- 
ment, in  some  measure,  contributed  to 
make  matters  worse.  Anv  given  quan- 
tity of  rain,  says  Sir  T.,  must  now  pro- 
duce a  much  greater  flood  than  it  could 
have  done  before  the  country  became  so 
highly  improved.  Formerly  the  rain  drops 
were  either  evaporated  on  the  hill  side, 
or  were  sucked  up  by  an  arid  or  a 
spongy  soil,  before  so  many  of  them 
could  coalesce  as  to  form  a  rill.  But 
when  we  consider  the  number  of  open 
cuts  made  to  dry  hill  pastures— the  nu- 


merous bogs  reclaimed  by  drainage  —  the 
ditches  of  enclosure  recently  constructed 
— and  the  long  lines  of  roads  formed  with 
side  drains,  and  cross  conduits,  we  shall 
find,  that  of  late  years,  the  country  has 
been  covered  with  a  perfect  net-work  of 
courses,  to  catch  and  to  concentrate  the 
rain-drops  as  they  fall,  and  to  hurry 
them  off  in  accumulated  tribute  to  the 
next  stream.— So  much  for  human  fore- 
sight. 

The  Deliverance  of 'Switzerland,  a  Dra- 
matic Poem,  by  H.  C.  Deakin.—'-  Tell' 
again ! — but  Mr.  Deakin  assures  us  he 
has  not  read  the  dramas  on  this  eter- 
nal subject  —  neither  Schiller's,  nor 
Knowles's,  nor  indeed  anything  but  a 
fragmental  piece  in  1825,  published  by 
Barker  and  Fletcher,  in  Finsbury -place, 
and  that  was  not  of  the  slightest  service 
to  him,  except  in  suggesting  a  name 
(two,  he  thinks)  for  the  characters  of 
his  own  drama.  "  I  was  perusing,"  says 
he,  "  Nayler's  Helvetia,  and  was  so 
deeply  interested,  nay  agitated,  by  the 
contents  of  his  fifth  chapter,  that  my 
brain  became,  as  it  were,  a  haunted 
mansion.  The  visioned  forms  of  the 
Helvetic  heroes  were  incessantly  sweep- 
ing through  it ;  my  very  dreams  were 
caparisoned  with  the  glories  of  those 
majestic  patriots ;  nor  was  it  until  I 
had  seized  my  pen,  and  tranquillized 
my  spirit  by  emptying  my  heart,  that 
sapience  returned,  and  made  me  feel 
what  an  ass  I'd  been,  to  make  so  much 
ado  about  nothing  !" 

The  story  is  told  plain  as  a  pike-staff; 
but  mighty  little  skillhas  the  author  shewn 
in  developing  his  own  plot.  Tell  not  only 
refuses  to  bow  down  before  the  famous 
hat,  but  dashes  down  the  pole  on  which 
it  hangs — is  dragged  before  Gesler,  and 
forthwith  condemned  to  shoot  the  apple 
on  his  boy's  head,  without  the  slightest 
hint  being  given  of  any  association  likely 
to  suggest  such  an  out  of  the  way  sen- 
tence. But  more  glaring  faults  offend 
the  reader — the  characters  are  all  alike 
— all,  men  and  women,  and  Tell's  boy 
too,  are  all  given  to  soliloquizing  and 
ranting.  The  sentiments  drop  from  the 
lips  of  all  fluently,  and  often  eloquently, 
but  they  are  also  all  of  the  overstrained 
and  extravagant  stamp. 

One  of  the  most  successful  solos, 
though  much  of  it  is  mere  parody,  is 
Rudolph's — 

Is  there  a  joy  one  half  so  sweet  as  hate? 

Music,  they  say,  is  sweets  and  so  is  hate  ! 

Beauty  enchants  ;  and  so  enchanteth  hate  I 

The  stars  are  beautiful ;  and  so  is  hate! 

Wine's  a  delicious  poison  :  so  is  hate  I 

Hope  is  most  fascinating  ;  so  is  hate  ! 

But  wine,  stars,  music,  beauty,  hope,  and  all, 

Mingled  together  in  one  cup  of  joy, 

Can  never  match  revenge  or  quick-pulsed  hate  ! 

Revenge  is  the  heart  of  hate !    O  gentle  heart  f 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


347 


Thou  art  my  mistress  ;  I  will  worship  thee 
At  sunrise  and  its  setting ;  we  will  be 
Co-op'rative— indissoluble,  like  twins. — 
O  pearl-browed  Margaret!  if  there  is  love 
In  hate,  then  love  I  thee  most  lovingly. 

0  noble  Arnold  1  if  there's  truth  in  hate, 
Then  truly  am  I  a  true  friend  of  thine  ; 
For  I  will  bribe  the  Saints  to  give  thy  soul 
To  Heaven,  thy  sacred  carcase  to  the  earth — 
But  chiefly  will  I  bribe  St.  Landen burgh! 

He's  a  true  Catholic  saint — has  plundered  much, 
And  will  do  more,  or  I  mistake  his  calling ; 
But  put  him  on  the  foul  scent  of  Mammon, 
He'll  follow  like  a  wolf-dog  on  his  prey  ; 
Then,  Margaret, I'll  calm  thee  with  a  kiss, 
In  my  own  fashion — but  more  as  to  that! 
My  plans  are  laid— I'll  in  to  Landenburgh— • 

1  have  some  news  will  cut  him  to  the  quick, 
And  rouse  his  fury  to  the  sticking  point. 

Be  thou  my  friend,  good  Satan,  for  a  while, 
I'll  get  thee  absolution  from  the  Pope, 
A  greater  sinner  aYid  a  greater  saint ! 

A  taste  of  Tell's  vehemence  in  Arcle's 
vein : — 

Think  ye,  vile  chains!  to  curb  the  soul  of  Tell? 
Dungeons  can  never  daunt  the  patriot's  spiritl 
I'd  sooner  be  within  these  four  damp  walls, 
With  three-fold  fetters  on  me,  with  the  worm, 
That  leaves  its  slimy  trace  of  wretchedness, 
For  my  companion,  than  the  pampered  wretch 
Who,  in  his  gorgeous  tyranny  above, 
Tramples  upon  a  people's  rights,  and  earns 
A  people's  curses  for  his  nightly  blessing  I 
My  body  is  thy  pris'ner,  Gesler!    Chains 
May  gall  my  flesh — may  manacle  my  limbs, 
And  for  a  time  may  make  me  blush  to  mark 
The  stain  they've  left  upon  them  ; — but  my  mind 
Can  ne'er  be  soiled  by  things  like  these  I 

The  Family  Library — British  Physi- 
cians. Vol.  XIV. — These  are  animated 
sketches  enough  of  the  lives  of  the 
most  successful  British  Physicians,  and 
range  very  well  with  Cunningham's 
Lives  of  the  Painters  and  Sculptors. 
With  no  knowledge  of  the  manipula- 
tions of  art,  Cunningham  had  all  the 
poetry  and  cultivation  to  qualify  him 
for  estimating  the  only  really  valuable 
merits  of  painting  and  sculpture — ideal 
and  poetic  beauty.  A  professor  would 
have  failed  to  grasp  the  generalities  of 
the  subject,  and  busied  himself,  little  to 
the  gratification  of  his  readers,  about 
the  niceties  and  peculiarities  of  particu-  , 
lar  styles  and  manners.  The  poet  was 
the  very  man  to  judge  of  the  embodyings 
of  his  own  art.  Not  so  with  respect  to 
physicians — facts  and  observances  rela- 
tive to  physical  realities  are  all  in  all  in 
medicine.  A  professional  man  could 
alone  be  competent  to  measure  the  me- 
rits of  his  brethren ;  and  Dr.  Henry 
Southey — a  passage  in  the  life  of  Gooch 
seems  to  indicate  that  he  is  the  writer — 
has  exercised  the  sound  gifts  of  his  own 
sound  judgment,  freely  and  fairly,  on 
the  professional  acquirements  and  per- 
sonal character  of  men  of  very  different 
calibre. 


The  series  commences  with  Linacre, 
and  closes  with  Dr.  Gooch,  who  died  but 
a  few  months  back.  Sixteen  other  names, 
certainly  among  the  most  celebrated, 
fil  up  the  long  interval  of  300  years ; 
but  the  reader  will  look  with  some  dis- 
appointment for  other  names,  at  least  as 
eminent  for  science,  and  some  for  popu- 
larity, as  any  of  those  whose  career  is 
thus  spiritedly  exhibited.  We  need 
only  mention  such  names  as  Garth, 
Arbuthnot,  Frend,  the  Monros  and  Gre- 
gorys of  the  north,  and  even  Brown,  of 
whom  some  slight,  and  we  cannot  but 
think  too  slighting,  account  is  given  in 
Cullen's  life.  Without  any  design  to 
depreciate,  where  we  feel  there  must 
have  been  some  difficulty  in  steering  be- 
tween extremes,  we  cannot  but  think 
too  popular  an  air  has  been  aimed  at 
throughout.  Too  often,  the  sketch  is 
merely  an  account  of  the  obstacles  the 
individual  encountered  in  rising  into 
notice  and  distinction — the  money  he 
made,  and  the  use,  generally  a  liberal 
one,  he  put  it  too— with  but  little  at- 
tempt to  estimate  his  medical  skill,  or 
to  mark  the  peculiarities  of  his  prac- 
tice. 

In  the  life  of  Dr.  Caius,  the  sweating 
sickness,  once  so  formidable,  is  described 
with  some  particularity  of  detail  as  to 
symptoms,  but  very  vaguely  and  unsa- 
tisfactorily as  to  the  nature  and  origin 
of  it.  Its  first  appearance  is,  of  course, 
historically,  assigned  to  the  invasion  of 
Henry  VII.  It  broke  out  among  his 
foreign  levies,  who  either  brought  it 
with  them,  or  more  probably,  says  the 
writer,  generated  it  in  the  crowded  tran- 
sports. They  are  described  by  Philip 
de  Comines  as  the  most  miserable  ob- 
jects he  had  ever  beheld.  "  A  highly 
malignant  and  contagious  disease  might 
readily  be  produced  in  such  circum- 
stances ;  but  why  it  should  appear  under 
so  new  and  singular  a  form,  why  this 
should  be  renewed  so  many  times  at  ir- 
regular intervals,  and  should  at  length 
entirely  cease,  are  questions  perhaps 
impossible  to  be  solved."  But  is  it  cer- 
tain that  it  was  a  new  and  singular  form, 
or  rather  not  one  that  might  and  may 
at  all  times  be  generated  under  similar 
circumstances— not  essentially  differing 
from  gaol  fevers  and  typhus  ? 

The  principal  features  in  Hervey's 
life  are,  of  course,  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  and  the  progress  of  incubation. 
His  merits  in  the  discovery  of  the  cir- 
culation are  precisely  marked — others 
had  been  on  the  very  brink  of  the  dis- 
covery, and  he  did  not  quite  complete 
it.  Of  his  conclusion  in  favour  of  the 
universality  of  oval  generation,  the 
writer  thus  judiciously  remarks—"  In 
perusing  this  curious  treatise — Hervey's 
Exercitationes  —  abounding  as  it  does 
with  anatomical  observations,  which  are 
2X2 


348 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[SEPT. 


valuable  from  the  great  attention  and 
accuracy  with  which  they  were  made, 
the  reader  may  perhaps  be  surprised  to 
find  the  theory  of  Hervey,  on  this  ob- 
scure and  mysterious  function,  so  full 
of  metaphysical  arguments,  and  resting 
at  last  upon  an  hypothesis  incapable  of 
proof" — meaning,  probably,  without  any 
foundation  in  fact. 

Sydenham's  reputation  is  connected 
with  the  plague ;  he  was  in  London  at 
the  beginning  and  the  close  of  it.  Bleed- 
ing was  his  remedy;  and  he  details  a 
remarkable  instance  of  the  happy  effect 
of  bleeding  for  the  plague  in  the  course 
of  the  civil  wars.  A  soldier,  who  had 
been  brought  up  a  surgeon,  was  permit- 
ted to  treat  his  comrades  in  this  way, 
and  not  one  of  them  died.  To  Syden- 
ham  is  due  the  credit  of  introducing  the 
cooling  system  for  the  small-pox,  so 
successfully  enforced,  afterwards,  by 
Radcliffe  and  Mead.  The  father  of 
Maria  Theresa,  it  is  recorded,  was 
wrapped  up  in  twenty  good  yards  of 
scarlet-cloth.  Sydenham  seems  to  have 
had  no  notion  of  the  contagiousness  of 
this  fearful  disorder. 

Radcliffe's  is  an  amusing  sketch.  He 
was  rough  and  resolute,  with  a  touch  of 
humour  about  him.  Though  a  court 
physician,  he  offended  both  William  and 
Anne.  Once  the  princess  sent  for  him 
in  haste,  and  on  his  delaying,  another 
messenger  was  despatched  to  describe 
the  nature  of  her  indisposition.  "  By 

,"  said  Radcliffe,  "  her  highness's 

distemper  is  nothing  but  the  vapours ; 
she  is  in  as  good  a  state  of  health  as  any 
woman  breathing,  could  she  believe  it.'* 
He  was  instantly  dismissed  ;  but,  after- 
wards, when  queen,  on  the  fatal  illness 
of  her  son,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  she 
forgot  the  offence,  and  again  consulted 
him.  William,  upon  some  occasion, 
shewed  Radcliffe  his  swollen  ankles, 
forming  a  striking  contrast  with  the  rest 
of  his  emaciated  body,  and  exclaimed, 
"  Doctor,  what  think  you  of  these  ?" — 
"  Why  truly,"  said  he,  "  I  would  not 
have  your  majesty's  two  legs  for  your 
three  kingdoms,"  which  finished  Rad- 
cliffe's attendance  at  court.  —  Pringle 
was  eminent  chiefly  for  his  improve- 
ments in  army  practice;  and  he  had, 
moreover,  it  seems,  the  merit  of  sug- 
gesting to  Captain  Cook  the  means  by 
which  ne  so  happily  secured  the  health 
of  his  crew. — Parry  is  still  remembered 
at  Bath.  He  commenced  practice  in 
that  town  in  1780 ;  his  receipts  that  year 
were  £39.  19s.-in  1781,  £?0.  7s.— in 
1782,  £112.  7s.-in  1783,  £162.  5s.— in 
1784,  £239.  5s.— in  1785,  £443.  10s.— 
in  1786,  £552.  9s.— in  1787,  £755.  6s.— 
in  1788,  £1,533.  15s.  From  the  tenth 
year  of  his  practice  the  amount  rapidly 
increased,  and  appears  to  have  varied 
from  £300.  to  £600.  per  month.  A  let- 


ter  is  given  from  Dr.  Denman,  dated 
1781 — "  I  am  not  surprised,"  says  he, 
"  that  you  find  your  receipts  come  in 
slowly  at  present,  but  all  young  prac- 
titioners think,  when  they  set  up  their 
standard,  that  the  world  should  imme- 
diately flock  to  it.  But  all  business  is 
progressive;  and  the  steps  now  taken 
may  be  so  calculated  as  to  produce  their 
effect  ten  years  hence.  There  must  be 
a  vacancy  before  we  can  get  into  busi- 
ness, and  when  there  is,  the  competition 
must  be  equal  in  many  points,  as  age  or 
standing,  character  for  knowledge,  in- 
dustry, or  readiness  to  exert  our  know- 
ledge for  the  good  of  our  patients,  moral 
qualities,  and  the  like.  On  the  whole, 
I  do  not  know  what  any  man  can  do  to 
get  patients,  but  to  qualify  himself  for 
business,  and  then  to  introduce  himself 
to  the  notice  of  those  who  are  likely  to 
employ  him.  But  it  is  hard  to  say  on 
what  hinge  this  matter  may  turn,  as  I 
see  men,  in  great  business,  of  every  dis- 
position, or  turn  of  conduct,  and  with 
very  different  degrees  of  knowledge,  and 
some,  I  think,  with  very  little,  but  with 
great  appearance  of  it,  &c." 

Besides  those  we  have  alluded  to  are 
short  notices  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne, 
Huxham,  Heberden,  Fothergill,  Cul- 
len,  Hunter,  Warren,  Baillie,  Jenner, 
and  Gooch.  The  last,  as  the  friend  of 
the  author,  is  given  with  more  detail 
and  knowledge  of  the  man.  Generally, 
there  is  a  great  lack  of  material  for  the 
lives  of  the  physicians,  and  ex  nihilo 
nihil. 

Arab  Proverbs,  <|-c.,  by  the  late  John 
Lewis  Burckhardt.  Published  by  Authority 
of  the  Association  for  Promoting  the  Dis- 
covery of  the  Interior  of  Africa The 

greater  part  of  this  ample  gathering  of 
Arab  Proverbs  was  collected,  it  seems, 
by  a  native  of  Cairo — whose  scarcely 
pronounceable  name,  if  we  printed  it, 
would  stick  in  nobody's  memory — about 
a  centurv  ago  ;  the  rest  were  picked  up 
by  Burckhardt  himself,  in  conversation 
in  general  society,  or  in  the  bazaar. 
They  are  all  of  them  current  at  Cairo, 
and  perpetually  on  the  lips  of  the  na- 
tives. They  are  expressed  in  the  vul- 
gar dialect  of  the  country,  and  are  such 
as  all  understand,  and  all  use,  except, 
says  Burckhardt,  the  few  who  affect  to 
despise  the  language  of  the  lower  classes. 
They  present,  thus,  a  genuine  specimen 
of  the  Arabic  now  spoken  in  the  capital 
of  Egypt,  which  is  the  same,  or  very 
nearly  the  same,  as  that  used  in  the  towns 
of  the  Delta ;  and  prove,  at  the  same 
time,  that  Arabic  is  not  by  any  means  so 
corrupted  as  some  travellers  have  re- 
ported. Many  of  these  sayings  are  me- 
trical, and  sometimes  the  rhymes  are 
extremely  happy,  but  the  drollery,  of 
course,  evaporates  in  a  translation,  which 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


349 


is  made  as  literal  as  possible  ;  they  serve, 
however,  equally  well  to  shew  us  how 
the  Arabs  judge  of  men  and  things,  and 
are  often  the  dictates  of  wisdom,  the  re- 
sults of  a  close  observance  of  nature.  Se- 
veral precepts  of  scripture,  and  maxims 
of  ancient  sages,  are  naturalized  among 
the  Arabs;  and  others  appear,  which 
have  been  generally  supposed  exclusive- 
ly of  European  origin.  The  whole  set 
shews  plainly  enough  that  the  principles 
of  virtue  and  honour,  of  friendship  and 
even  charity,  of  independence  and  gene- 
rosity, are  perfectly  well  known  to  the 
modern  inhabitants  of  Egypt,  although 
few  among  them,  says  Burckhardt — and 
he  was  a  man  of  some  penetration  and 
considerable  experience — take  the  trou- 
ble to  regulate  their  conduct  accord- 
ingly. 

Cunning,  and  selfishness,  and  grasp- 
ing, pervade  too  many  of  these  maxims. 
If  the  water  come  like  a  deluge,  place  thy 
son  under  thy  feet—  Save  thyself,  that  is, 
as  Burckhardt's  commentary  runs,  even 
at  the  expense  of  thy  nearest  kindred  or 
friends  -  a  principle,  he  adds,  very  gene- 
ral in  the  Levant.  Money  is  sweet  balm — 
it  heals  all  wounds— such  is  the  general 
opinion  in  the  East,  remarks  the  com- 
mentator. If  a  serpent  love  thee,  wear 
him  as  a  necklace — that  is,  if  dangerous 
people  show  affection  towards  thee,  court 
their  friendship  by  the  most  polite  atten- 
tion. This  has  very  much  or  the  Roche- 
foucault  tone.  //  they  call  thee  reaper, 
whet  thy  scythe — endeavour  by  mere  ap- 
pearances to  convince  people  that  thou 
deservest  the  reputation  thou  enjoyest. 
Do  no  good,  and  thou  shall  find  no  evil — a 
preservative  against  ingratitude,  it  must 
be  supposed — not  against  malice — there, 
there  can  be  no  security. 

Some  are  of  a  very  different  cast,  for 
instance  —  The  best  generosity  is  the 
quickest. 

They  came  to  shoe  the  horse  of  the 
Pasha,  and  the  beetle  stretched  out  his  leg 
(to  be  shod)— this  is  indicative  of  ridicu- 
lous pretensions.  The  beetle  is  an  em- 
blem of  ugliness,  as  well  as  of  worthless- 
ness  ;  for,  in  another  place,  we  find,  The 
beetle  is  a  beauty  in  the  eyes  of  its  mother — 
which  of  course  expresses  a  parent's  in. 
fatuation.  Is  thy  mother-in-law  quarrel- 
some ?  Divorce  her  daughter-  cut  up  an 
evil  by  the  root.  The  mother  and  daugh- 
ter will  leave  thy  house  together.  The 
wise  (are  taught)  with  a  wink,  a  fool  with 
a  kick.  Walls  have  ears.  The  dreams  of 
cats  are  all  about  mice.  A  thousand  cranes 
in  the  air  are  not  worth  one  sparrow  in  the 
fist ;  and  scores  of  others,  we  find,  either 
the  very  same,  or  bearing  a  close  analogy 
to  English  sayings. 

Burckhardt's  annotations  upon  them 
are  full  of  information  relative  to  Eastern 
manners,  and  the  whole  collection  well 
deserved  publication. 


Irish  Cottagers,  by  Mr.  Martin  Doyle, 

Author  of  "  Hints  to  Small  Farmers." 

This  may  class  with  Miss  Hamilton's 
Scotch  Cottagers  of  Glenbervie  as  to 
intention,  but  it  falls  immeasurably  bel- 
low in  point  of  execution.  The  pur- 
pose of  the  well-meaning  writer  is  to 
contrast  the  career  of  an  active  and  in- 
dustrious labourer  with  a  careless  and 
slovenly  one — both  living  under  an  ex- 
cellent landlord,  who  resides  on  his 
estates,  superintends  his  own  affairs, 
instructs  his  tenantry,  encourages  them 
by  instituting  prizes  for  good  manage- 
ment, &c.  &c.  His  object,  in  short,  in 
his  own  words,  is  to  convey  sound  prac- 
tical advice  to  the  rural  population  of 
his  country,  through  a  familiar  and  in- 
teresting medium,  free  from  the  vulgar 
caricature,  as  well  as  the  coarseness  and 
blasphemies  with  which  too  many  Irish 
tales  of  the  present  day  so  copiously 
and  offensively  abound.  We  must  take 
the  will  for  the  deed — for  certainly  the 
latter  might  have  been  better.  The 
book  is  instructive  enough,  but  not  par- 
ticularly interesting;  nor  does  it  keep 
to  its  object ;  the  whole  body -snatching 
business  must  have  belonged  to  some 
other  subject ;  it  wears  the  appearance 
of  being  torn  violently  from  something 
else,  and  certainly  sits  very  awkwardly 
in  its  present  position. 

Album  Verses,  with  a  few  others,  by 
Charles  Lamb. — This  cbllection  of  scraps 
is  dedicated  to  the  new  publisher, 
Moxon,  of  Bond-street,  and  forms  the 
first  specimen  of  the  manner  in  which 
publications  '  entrusted  to  his  future 
care  are  to  appear.  According  to  the 
same  dedication,  Mr.  Moxon — himself 
a  scribbler,  on  Mr.  Lamb's  own  testi- 
mony— of  simple  and  unpretending  com- 
positions— starts  under  the  auspices  of 
that  "  fine-minded  veteran  of  verse," 
Rogers ;  and  "  Italy"  is  already  an- 
nounced, illustrated  with  fifty-six  splen- 
did engravings.  Charles  Lamb  never 
had  any  feeling  of  the  melody  of  verse ; 
but  he  is  as  youthful  in  imagination 
and  as  executive  in  fact,  to  the  full,  as 
he  was  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago. 

SHE    IS    GOING. 

For  their  elder  sister's  hair 
Martha  does  a  wreath  prepare 
Of  bridal  rose,  ornate  and  gay  : 
To-morrow  is  the  wedding  day — 
She  is  going. 

Mary,  youngest  of  the  threet 
Laughing  idler,  full  of  glee, 
Arm  in  arm  does  fondly  chain  her, 
Thinking,  poor  trifler,  to  detain  her — 
But  she's  going. 

Vex  not,  maidens,  nor  regret, 
Thus  to  part  with  Margaret, 


350 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature. 


Charms  like  yours  can  never  stay 
Long  within  doors  ;  and  one  day 
You'll  be  going. 

The  smoothest  morceau  we  could  find. 

The  British  Naturalist.     Vol.  II. —  We 
were  very  much  gratified  by  the  first 
volume  of  this  spirited  and  intelligent 
production  -  not  only  with  the  contents 
generally,  but  with  the  skill  and  felicity 
with  which  matters  of  -very   different 
characters,    but    locally   and  naturally 
connected,  were  classed,  described,  and 
discussed.     The  mountain,  lake,  river, 
sea,  moor,  and  brook,  enabled  the  author 
to  group  his  subjects  in  a  very  novel 
manner — novel  in  books,  we  mean — for 
the  grouping  is  nature's  own.     The  con- 
tents of  the  present  volume  are  classed 
under  the  term  year'  and   spring  and 
summer  form  two  divisions,  to  be  fol- 
lowed, it  may  be  supposed,  by  the  other 
seasons.     Considering  the  variability  of 
the  climate  of  Britain,  the  author  "has 
thought  it  advisable   to  introduce  his 
subjects  by  a  slight  glance  at  the  natu- 
ral history  of  the  year,  as  affected   by 
the  motions  of  the  earth,  and  the  chang- 
ing actions  of  the  sun  and  moon.  Though 
executed  with  considerable  ability,  this 
is  little  calculated,  we  think,  to  attract 
those  for  whom  the  book  is  specifically 
destined.     "  From  their  greater  powers 
of  locomotion,  the  birds,"  he  observes, 
"  are  the  best  animated  indexes  to  the 
seasons,   and,  therefore,  more  space  is 
given  to  them  than  to  any  of  the  other 
productions,  though  some  hints  respect- 
ing other  subjects  will  be  found,  where- 
ever    it   was  judged    that   they   could 
be  introduced  with   advantage."      The 
cuckoo  presents  a  fair  specimen  of  the 
frank  and  independent  spirit  of  the  wri- 
ter.    He  denies  not  the  stories  usually 
told,  that  the  cuckoo  deposits  her  eggs, 
one  by  one,  in  the  nests  of  small  birds, 
to  be  hatched  by  others,  &c.     All  that 
he  will  positively  say  is,  that  though  he 
has  seen  very  many  young  cuckoos  in 
nests,  sometimes  two,  but  never  more 
in  any  one  nest,  and  generally  only  one ; 
and  although  he  has  seen  them  in  nests 
disproportion  ally  small,  and  of  the  same 
structure  as  the  nests  of  smaller  birds, 
he  has  never  met  with  the  egg  of  the 
cuckoo   along  with  that  of  any   other 
bird ;  has  never  scared  a  little  bird  from 
the  act  of  incubation  in  a  cuckoo's  nest ; 
and  never  detected  one  little  bird  in  the 
act  of  feeding  a  cuckoo,  either  in  the 
nest  or  out  of  it.     The  sum  of  the  wri- 
ter's belief,  which  carries  with  it  more 
probability  than  any  thing  we  ever  read 
on  the  subject,  is,  that  tlie  cuckoo  takes 
possession  of  the  nests  of  other  birds, 
either  after  these  have  quitted  them,  or 
after  it  has  made  a  meal  of  the  eggs, 
and  then  performs  all  the  incubation  and 
nursing  itself.    She  uses  the  nests  of 


other  birds,  apparently,  when  they  have 
done  with  them.  The  nests  of  the  small 
birds — the  common  pepit,  and  the  hedge- 
sparrow — as  far  as  the  author's  observa- 
tion has  extended,  and  also  according 
to  the  very  authorities  which  make  those 
birds  hatch  the  cuckoo,  are  finished  at 
least  a  fortnight  before  the  cuckoo  be- 
gins to  be  heard,  and  that  interval  would 
just  about  suffice  for  the  period  of  jn- 
cubation. 

The  Anthology,  an  Annual  Reward 
Book  for  Midsummer  and  Christmas  1830, 
by  the  Rev.  J.  D.  Parry,  M.A.—It  is 
very  much  the  fashion  of  schools,  espe- 
cially girls'  schools— ladies'  schools  we 
meant  of  course  -  to  give  reward  books 
at  the  holidays  for  superiority  in  con- 
duct and  acquirement ;  and  it  certainly 
is  better  that  selections  should  be  made 
deliberately  by  competent  persons,  as 
well  for  the  sake  of  variety,  as  for  the 
avoidance  of  offensive  or  inappropriate 
matter.  It  is  not  every  schoolmistress 
that  knows  what  is  good,  better  and 
best,  and  those  who  do  will  be  thankful 
to  be  saved  the  labour  of  selection  ;  and 
after  all,  there  are  few  volumes  where 
pruning  is  not  desirable,  but  which  can- 
not be  employed  without  spoiling  the 
beauty  of  the  book,  and  perhaps  exciting 
a  morbid  curiosity.  This  is  a  second 
specimen  of  the  editor's  labours,  and,  as 
well  as  the  first,  amply  proves  his  dili- 
gence and  judgment.  The  pieces,  con- 
sisting of  voyages  and  travels,  tales, 
moral  extracts,  and  poetry,  are  taken 
from  eighty  volumes,  with  translations 
from  eleven  languages  —  a  statement, 
which,  while  it  shews  a  little  puffing, 
implies  no  ordinary  activity. 

Cabinet  Album. — Another  collection — 
we  wonder  who  buys  them — of  scraps 
in  prose  and  verse.  The  pieces  are  all, 
with  two  or  three  insignificant  excep- 
tions, the  productions  of  the  popular 
writers  of  the  day ;  and  very  many  of 
them  culled  from  the  leading  annuals, 
periodicals,  and  papers.  The  selection, 
however,  is,  in  general,  sufficiently  hap- 
py ;  but  what  the  selector  means  by  the 
cool  statement,  that  "  by  far  the  greater 
part  will  be  new  to  most  readers,"  we 
cannot  divine.  The  volume  will  fall 
into  the  hands  of  few,  we  imagine,  who 
will  not  find  themselves  among  old  ac- 
quaintances. There  are,  we  believe,  a 
few  original  morsels — we  looked  at  one, 
which  did  not  tempt  us  to  search  for  a 
second. 

Discourses  on  the  Millenium,  the  Doc- 
trine of  Election,  Justification  by  Faith, 
$c..  by  the  Rev.  Michael  Russell,  LL.D.— 
A  very  sensible  volume  of  theology,  by 
a  Scotch  Episcopalian.  The  principal 
piece,  occupying  nearly  half  the  volume, 
concerns  the  doctrine  of  the  Millenium, 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


351 


of  the  utter  futility  of  which,  long  and 
close  research  has  fully  convinced  the 
reverend  author.  The  aim  of  Dr.  Rus- 
sell, and  a  very  laudable  one  too,  is, 
accordingly,  to  prove  to  the  general 
satisfaction  of  Christians,  that  it  is,  after 
all,  a  subject  with  which  they  have 
nothing  to  do  ;  and  this,  he  will  seem  to 
most  sober  people,  we  think,  to  have 
successfully  accomplished,  first,  by  trac- 
ing its  history,  which  shews  it  to  have 
originated  in  Tlabbinical  traditions  long 
before  the  times  of  the  Gospel;  and 
next,  by  describing  the  doctrine  itself, 
the  objects  to  which  it  points,  and  the 
reasoning  by  which  it  is  supported, 
with  all  the  shiftings  and  accommoda- 
tions to  which  its  advocates  from  age  to 
age  have  been  driven  in  support  of  it, 
per  fas  and  per  nefas. 

The  word  Millenium  means  a  thou- 
sand years,  and  in  the  fancies  and  ex- 
pectations of  the  Jews,  the  term  ex- 
pressed a  sort  of  sabbatical  period,  to 
commence  at  the  close  of  the  sixth  chi- 
liad, or  6000  years  from  the  creation  of  the 
world — a  period  blessed  with  abundance 
and  felicity,  and  exempt  from  care  and 
labour.  The  opinion  was  general,  and 
enforced  by  the  rabbis  with  all  sorts  of 
fantastical  arguments.  The  early  Chris- 
tians, at  least  such  as  were  Jews,  and 
certainly  some  who  were  not,  enter- 
tained the  same  sentiments.  The  very 
Apostles,  Jews  also,  gave  indications  of 
being  impressed  with  the  national  con- 
viction. The  happy  period  was  sup- 
posed to  have  arrived  about  the  time  of 
the  birth  of  Christ,  and  when  the  anti- 
cipated blessing  did  not  appear,  recourse 
was  had  to  new  calculations,  to  put  off 
the  commencement,  from  time  to  time, 
till  at  last  the  birth  of  Christ  was  de- 
clared to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
date,  for  that  he  appeared  at  the  close 
of  the  fourth  chiliad  of  years,  and  not 
at  that  of  the  sixth — and  this,  appa- 
rently, in  the  teeth  of  the  plainest  chro- 
nological facts.  According  to  the  best 
authorities,  6000  years  at  least  certainly 
intervened  between  the  creation  of  the 
world  and  the  birth  of  Christ :  we  are, 
consequently,  far  advanced  in  the  eighth 
chiliad,  and  of  course  the  period  origin- 
ally fixed  for  the  Millenium  has  long 
expired,  and  of  course,  also,  the  whole 
expectation  is  a  chimera.  The  last  by- 
gone date  fixed  for  the  commencement 
of  the  Millenium  was  1793.  This  was 
Frere's ;  but  we  have  still  before  us 
Mr.  Faber's,  for  1865 ;  Dr.  Hales's,  for 
1880 ;  Bishop  Newton's,  for  1987  ;  Low- 
man's,  for  2016;  Sir  Isaac  Newton's, 
for  he  meddled  in  these  matters,  for 
2036  ;  besides  some  Jews  for  200  or  300 
years  onwards ;  and,  doubtless,  similar 
calculators  will  never  be  wanting  to 
the  end  of  time.  The  greatest  difficulty 
the  author  had  to  grapple  with  was  the 


apparent  concurrence  of  the  apostles; 
but  this  is  readily  got  over,  when  it  is 
considered  that  the  inspiration  of  the 
apostles  was  certainly  of  a  limited  kind 
— limited  plainly  to  matters  of  essential 
doctrine — that  even  such  doctrines  were 
disclosed  gradually — and  certainly  the 
Millenium  cannot  "be  shewn  to  be  one  of 
them.  The  preliminary  remarks  rela- 
tive to  the  interpretation  of  scripture 
are  of  the  soundest  kind. 

The  second  discourse  embraces  the 
doctrine  of  election  ;  and  the  sum  of  the 
discussion  amounts  to  this — that  elec- 
tion points  to  nations  and  not  indivi- 
duals. The  basis  of  the  whole  is  bor- 
rowed from  Taylor  of  Norwich,  with- 
out any  acknowledgment  beyond  a 
mere  allusion  to  his  name.  The 
same,  very  nearly,  may  be  affirmed  of 
Justification  by  Faith — by  which  was 
meant,  acquittal  of  past  sins  upon  bap. 
tism — quite  distinct  from  final  salva- 
tion. The  concluding  discourse  is  a 
common  consecration  -  sermon  —  esta- 
blishing the  fact,  easily  enough,  that 
from  the  days  of  the  apostles  there  have 
always  been  three  orders  of  ministers  ; 
but  failing  to  prove  that  bishops  ought 
to  have  large  incomes,  and  tyrannize 
over  their  less  lucky  brethren.  We 
forget  —  the  sermon  concerns  Scotch 
bishops,  who  have  as  little  power  as 
pay. 

A  Series  of  Old  Plays,  under  the  Title 
of  The  Old  English  Drama.  Part  I.  $c. 
— A  readier  access  to  our  earliest  stage 
literature  has  long  been  wanting,  and 
the  specimens  before  us  shew  the  pro- 
jectors of  this  new  edition  have  taken  a 
pretty  accurate  measure  of  the  demand, 
though  we  still  think  they  should  have 
gone  farther  back,  and  commenced  with 
the  relics  of  the  "  Mysteries  and  Mo- 
ralities. "  They  are  producing  an 
edition  at  once  correct  and  cheap;  and 
though  the  size  is  small,  and  the  type 
close,  the  page  is  sufficiently  clear  and 
legible,  and  the  general  appearance  as 
ornamental  as  the  price  can  be  expected 
to  repay.  A  more  general  diffusion  of 
the  old  dramatic  writers  will  tend  to- 
correct  misconceptions,  which  is  in  all 
circumstances  desirable,  as  well  in  mat- 
ters of  literature  as  in  the  business  of 
life,  and  which  correction  is  in  fact,  and 
very  happily  so,  one  of  the  distinguish- 
ing characteristics  of  the  times.  In  the 
minds  of  most  readers,  Shakspeare  stands 
alone,  like  a  pyramid  in  a  desart.  Save 
the  familiar  names  of  Jonson,  Beaumont, 
Fletcher,  and  Massinger,  his  contempo- 
raries are  little  known,  and  his  prede- 
cessors still  less.  Yet  he  had  many, 
and  of  course  shared  in  the  effect  their 
prductions  had  upon  the  age.  "We  have 
no  desire  to  depreciate  Shakspeare,  but 
he,  no  more  than  Chaucer,  or  Homer  of 


352 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature. 


[SEPT. 


old,  sprung  up,  suddenly  and  indepen- 
dently, Minerva-like,  in  panoply  com- 
plete. They  were,  all  of  them,  only  the 
best  of  their  class.  Nature  in  her  works 
proceeds  by  steps  and  not  by  leaps ;  and 
the  results  of  modern  researches  all  tend 
to  shew  that  the  career  of  intellectual  and 
literary  cultivation,  in  every  branch  and 
department,  observes  the  same  slow  and 
progressive  law  of  gradation.  Even 
Newton  is  no  exception. 

Gammer  Gurton's  Needle,  written  by 
Still,  who  towards  the  close  of  life  was 
made  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells,  and 
first  performed,  apparently,  at  Christ's 
College,  Cambridge,  in  1566,  was  long 
considered  to  be  the  oldest  English 
drama,  that  "  looked  like  regular,"  ex- 
tant. Ralph  Royster  Doyster,  a  piece 
discovered  about  ten  years  ago,  how- 
ever, must  take  precedence  by  some 
years,  and  is  even  more  "  like  a  regular" 
comedy.  An  extract  from  it  of  some 
length  appears  in  Wilson's  Art  of  Logic, 
printed  by  Grafton  in  1551.  The  ex- 
tract is  given  in  illustration  of  opposite 
meanings,  obtainable  by  varying  the 
punctuation,  and  is  introduced  by  Wil- 
son with  these  words — "an  example  of 
such  doubtful  writing,  which,  by  reason 
of  pointing,  may  have  a  double  sense 
and  contrary  meaning,  taken  out  of  an 
interlude  by  Nicholas  Udall."  Udall 
was  born  about  1506,  and  is  supposed  to 
have  died  in  1557,  after  having  been 
master  successively  of  Eton  and  West- 
minster Schools.  Of  course  the  original 
piece  was  known  before  1551,  though 
allusion  is  made  to  our  noble  queen,  by 
whom  no  doubt  Elizabeth  is  meant— the 
allusion  was  an  accommodation  to  the 
times  on  some  after  performance.  The 
only  copy  known  to  be  in  existence,  be- 
fore the  present  reprint,  is  without  a 
title  page  ;  but  it  appears,  from  Ames, 
that  Hacket,  the  pnnter,  had  a  licence 
for  a  play,  entitled  Rauf  Ruyster  Dus- 
ter, in  1566.  The  plav  was  no  doubt  a 
popular  one,  for  allusions  to  the  cha- 


racter of  Ralfe  Royster  are  frequent  in 
many  publications  throughout  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth.  "  It  is  even  better  en- 
titled," says  the  editor,  "  to  be  ranked 
as  a  comedy  than  Gammer  Gurton's 
Needle ;  it  is  divided  into  five  actt>  and 
scenes,  and  it  possesses  a  peculiar  claim 
to  attention  as  a  picture  ot  ancient  man- 
ners, inasmuch  as  it  represents  the  ha- 
bits and  modes  of  thinking  and  acting 
at  the  date  when  it  was  written  in  Lon- 
don, and  is  not,  like  Gammer  Gurton's 
Needle,  merely  a  coarse  delineation  of 
country  life."  Coarse  enough  it  still  is, 
but  not  filthy,  like  Gammer  Gurton's 
Needle,  though  of  Gammer  Gurton  we 
must  still  say,  with  all  its  breadth,  it  is 
irresistibly  comic,  and,  with  a  little  rub- 
bing and  scrubbing,  would  even  now 
make  a  laughable  and  popular  farce. 

Elements  of  Analytical  Geometry,  by 
J.  R.  Young,  Author  of  "  Treatises  on 
Algebra,  Geometry,"  fyc.  —  Any  attempt 
to  discuss  the  specific  merits  of  this  lit- 
tle volume  would  be  sadly  out  of  place 
here.  Mr.  Young  is  known  to  us,  by 
his  publications  we  mean,  as  a  geometri- 
cian very  capable  of  simplifying  demon- 
strations, and  successful  in  detecting 
sundry  fallacies  lurking  in  the  reason- 
ings of  some  mathematicians  of  cele- 
brity. Algebraic  analysis  applied  to 
geometry,  is  comparatively  a  recent 
study  in  this  country,  and  certainly 
there  has  been  a  miserable  deficiency 
of  elementary  books  on  the  subject.  Till 
within  these  ten  years,  indeed,  there 
was  no  English  book  at  all  exclusively 
directed  to  the  matter.  Dr.  Lordlier 
has  since  published  a  portion  of  his  pro- 
jected work,  and  another  volume  has 
appeared  at  Cambridge,  but  neither 
of  them  will  render  superfluous  Mr. 
Young's  performance,  which  is  strictly 
elementary,  and,  as  far  as  we  have 
glanced  over  it,  clear  and  simple.  It 
is  a  welcome  accession  to  our  introduc- 
tory books  of  science. 


1830.] 


[    353    ] 
FINE  ARTS*  EXHIBITIONS. 


Illustrations  of  Natural  History,  em- 
bracing a  series  of  Engravings  and  descrip- 
tive Accounts  of  the  most  interesting  Genera 
and  Species  of  the  Animal  World.  The 
engravings  by  J.  Le  Keux  and  R.  Sands. 
—The  world  has  seen  all  sorts  of  ages ; 
it  has  seen  its  golden,  silver,  and  iron 
periods.  More  recently  indeed,  accord- 
ing to  Lord  Byron,  we  have  had  an  age 
of  bronze  ;  but  metals  seem  to  have  had 
their  day,  and  our's  may  truly  be  termed 
"  an  animal  age."  Zoology  has  put 
every  other  science  completely  out  of 
fashion  ;  chemistry  gives  way  to  came- 
lopards,  and  monkeys  have  scattered 
mineralogy  to  the  winds.  The  exhibi- 
tions of  the  Zoological  Society  (the 
Wombwells  and  Atkinses  of  fashionable 
life)  have  been  in  a  very  considerable 
degree  instrumental  in  bringing  about 
this  consummation.  People  visit  the 
Regent's  Park,  and  immediately  become 
profound  devotees  of  science.  Formerly 
they  were  electrified  at  merely  seeing  a 
lion ;  they  now  want  to  know  the  Latin 
for  it.  They  call  him  Felis  leo,  inquire 
into  generic  names,  and  pretend  to  un- 
derstand systems.  While  this  society, 
however,  has  set  on  foot  and  cultivated 
a  most  foolish  fashion,  it  has  also,  though 
unconsciously  and  without  any  merit  of 
its  own,  given  a  decided  spring  and  im- 
pulse to  zoological  science  :  and  indeed 
we  may  fairly  conclude  that  it  is  to  the 
labours  of  that  admirable  naturalist  and 
amiable  man,  the  late  Sir  Stamford  Raf- 
fles, that  we  are  indebted  for  the  beautiful 
book  before  us.  Of  this  publication  there 
are  two  editions  :  that  in  quarto  is  pub- 
lished in  parts,  eight  of  which  have  al- 
ready appeared.  This  contains  proof 
impressions  of  the  plates.  The  other 
edition  is  in  octavo,  and  the  numbers 
already  issued  form  one  of  the  cheapest 
and  most  elegant  volumes  that  could  be 
desired.  It  contains  nearly  one  hundred 
engravings ;  all,  we  can  scarcely  find  an 
exception,  beautifully  executed  as  works 
of  art ;  and,  what  is  infinitely  better, 
with  a  fidelity  and  adherence  to  nature 
which,  though  so  necessary  in  a  work 
like  this,  are  so  frequently  overlooked 
by  artists  for  the  sake  of  effect.  Messrs. 
Le  Keux  and  Sands  have  very  properly 
perceived  that  nothing  is  so  picturesque 
as  nature,  and  that  in  presenting  the  best 
portrait  of  the  animal,  they  present  the 
best  picture.  The  drawings  are  by  va- 
rious artists  of  eminence ;  and  among 
the  names  we  perceive  those  of  Edwin 
and  Thomas  Landseer— the  Sir  Thomas 
Lawrences  of  the  brute  creation.  The 
histories  and  descriptions  that  accom- 
pany these  engravings  are  written  with 
intelligence  and  talent.  Much  pains 
have  evidently  been  taken  in  research, 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  57. 


and  the  compilations  are  generally  ju- 
dicious. This,  and  the  volume  which 
is  to  succeed  it,  will  complete  the  history 
of  quadrupeds ;  it  is  then  proposed  to 
give  one  to  birds,  another  to  fishes  and 
amphibious  animals,  and  a  third  to  rep- 
tiles and  insects.  The  work  deserves  to 
be  popular. 

The  engravings  that  form  the  gallery 
of  portraits  of  the  Female  Nobility  in 
"La 'Belle  Assemble'e,"  resemble  the 
thousand  and  one  stories  in  the  "  Ara- 
bian Nights  ;"  they  are  all  so  beautiful, 
and  each  has  so  many  peculiar  charms  of 
its  own,  that  the  reader  in  one  case,  and 
the  spectator  in  another,  is  very  plea- 
santly puzzled,  and  hardly  knows  which 
to  prefer.  To  escape  from  the  dilemma, 
he  generally  fixes  upon  that  which  has 
been  most  recently  inspected,  and  pro- 
nounces the  last  to  be  best — which  is 
precisely  what  we  are  disposed  to  do 
with  the  portrait  of  the  Countess  Veru- 
lam,  the  proof  of  which  now  lies  before 
us.  It  is  a  very  lovely  picture  of  a  very 
lovely  woman  ;  and  as  a  work  of  art  (it 
is  engraved  by  Dean),  will  lose  no  lustre 
by  a  comparison  with  the  finest  engrav- 
ings of  the  day ;  nor  would  it,  as  we 
have  already  intimated,  be  easy  to  select 
a  rival  to  it,  either  for  feeling  or  finished 
execution,  from  any  of  the  sixty-eight 
portraits  that  have  preceded  it.  To  us, 
and  to  many  others,  who  only  see  the 
beauties  of  our  court  reflected  in  the 
mirror  which  art  holds  up  to  us,  this 
series  of  portraits  has  an  especial  charm, 
by  making  us  familiar  with  all  the  graces 
and  ornaments  of  the  age,  without  the 
trouble  of  obtaining  a  presentation  at  a 
levee,  and  the  inconvenience  of  being 
elbowed  by  an  alderman,  or  a  barrister 
bowing  himself  into  a  silk  gown. 

Landscape  Illustrations  of  the  Waverley 
Novels. — Much  as  we  like  the  preceding 
parts  of  this  very  tasteful  and  elegant 
work,  we  cannot  help  liking  the  present, 
which  is  the  fourth number,somewhat  bet- 
ter. Our  preference  however  rests  rather 
upon  the  selection  of  the  subjects,  than 
upon  any  superiority  or  improvement 
in  execution.  These  four  engravings 
exhibit  the  same  light,  graceful  touches 
that  characterize  their  predecessors. 
The  view  of  "  Durham"  in  particular, 
from  a  design  by  Robson,  is  extremely 
beautiful.  The  others  are,  the  "  Tol- 
booth,"  by  Nasmyth;  "  Caerlaveroch 
Castle,"  by  Roberts ;  and  lastly,  "  Lon- 
don," seen  from  Highgate— an  illustra- 
tion for  "  Rob  Roy."  With  this,  al- 
though it  has  employed  the  united  talents 
of  Barret  and  Finden,  we  are  far  less 
pleased  than  with  the  wild  and  watery 
effect  of  the  clouds  and  lake  in  the  view 
of  "  Caerlaveroch  Castle."  They  are 

2  Y 


354 


Fine  Arts'  Exhibitions. 


[SEPT. 


exquisitely  clear  and  natural — they  look 
moist,  and  full  of  motion.  No  e'dition 
pf  Sir  Walter  Scott's  romances  will,  to 
our  taste,  be  complete,  without  these 
illustrations.  The  descriptions  of  the 
great  novelist  will  henceforth  lose  their 
identity  without  the  guiding  light  which 
art  has  thus  pleasantly  shed  upon  them. 
The  portraits  that  form  the  sixteenth 
number  of  the  "  National  Portrait  Gal- 
lery  of  Illustrious  and  Eminent  Person- 
ages of  the  Nineteenth  Century,"  are 
those  of  Lord  Chancellor  Lyndhurst,  the 
Earl  of  Fife,  and  Sir  Thomas  Le  Breton. 
They  are  executed  in  the  same  careful 
and  satisfactory  manner  that  distin- 
guished those  that  have  already  been 
published,  and  are  upon  the  whole  well 
entitled  to  their  respective  niches  in  the 
national  gallery  of  portaits.  Lord  Lynd- 
hurst's portrait,  however,  though  cleverly 


engraved,  and  an  excellent  likeness  as  to 
feature,  is  deficient  in  a  peculiar  expres- 
sion of  eye  that  invariably  lightens  up 
the  countenance  of  the  Chancellor. 
There  is  a  pensive  character,  an  air  of 
fatigue  and  discomfiture,  an  ambiguous 
attempt  at  a  smile  playing  about  the 
face,  as  though  he  felt  anxious  to  get  his 
wig  off  and  to  put  on  his  nightcap.  The 
whole  aspect  wants  a  dash  of  life — it  is 
not  sly  and  cunning  enough.  The  wig 
however  does  wonders  for  it  in  the  way 
of  gravity.  Earl  Fife's  is  a  very  good 
stiff  Scotch  portrait,  and  was  once  more 
like  him  than  it  is  at  present.  The  por- 
trait of  Sir  Thomas  Le  Breton,  a  gentle- 
man of  whom  we  know  nothing  more 
illustrious  than  that  he  is  Bailly  of  the 
Island  of  Jersey,  is  from  a  painting  by 
Sir  Thomas  Lawrence ;  it  is  easy,  simple 
and  animated. 


WORKS  IN  THE  PRESS  AND  NEW  PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS  IN  PREPARATION. 

The  distinguished  American  Novelist, 
Cooper,  has  a  new  production  in  three 
volumes  in  the  press,  under  the  attractive 
title  of  «  The  Water  Witch."  New  Edi- 
tions are  preparing  of  his  popular  novels  of 
the  "  Prairie,"  and  the  "  Borderers." 

A  very  useful  work  is  in  the  press,  by 
Mr.  Elmes,  the  Architect.  It  is  a  new 
Topographical  Dictionary  of  London,  in 
which  not  only  every  street  and  passage,  but 
every  church,  public  office  and  building 
throughout  the  metropolis  and  its  environs, 
will  be  carefully  and  particularly  described, 
and  its  locality  distinctly  pointed  out. 

Mr.  Murray's  Natural  History  of  Poisons 
is  nearly  ready. 

Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall,  the  Author  of  Sketches 
of  Irish  Life,  &c.  is  preparing  for  the  press 
a  volume,  entitled,  "  Anecdotes  of  Birds." 

An  Authentic  and  Impartial  Narrative 
of  the  Events  which  took  place  in  Paris  on 
July  27,  28,  and  29,  with  an  Account  of 
the  Occurrences  preceding  and  following. 

Lady  Ribblesdale's  Portrait,  from  Mrs. 
Carpenter's  truly  elegant  oil-painting,  will 
form  the  Seventieth  of  the  Series  of  the 
Female  Nobib'ty,  and  will  appear  in  La 
Belle  Assembled  in  October  next. 

Mr.  Boaden,  the  biographer  of  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons,  &c.,  is  busily  engaged  on  the  Life 
and  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Jordan. 

The  Rev.  John  Kenrick  has  just  com- 
pleted an  Abridgment,  which  will  shortly 
be  published,  of  his  Translation  of  Lumpt's 
Latin  Grammar. 

LIST  OF  NEW  WORKS. 

BIOGRAPHY    AND    HISTORY. 

The  Life  of  Lord  Byron.  By  John 
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with  an  Historical  Account  of  the  House  of 
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18s. 

Memoirs  of  His  Serene  Highness  An- 
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pensier,  written  by  Himself.  8vo.  9s. 

Memoirs  of  the  late  Captain  Hugh  Crow, 
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History  of  Northamptonshire,  Part  III. 
(completing  the  First  Volume.)  By  George 
Baker.  Large  paper,  £6.  6s.  Small  paper, 
£3.  Gs. 

Military  Reminiscences,  extracted  from 
a  Journal  of  nearly  Forty  Years'  active 
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Welsh.  In  2  vols.  8vo.  36s. 

Private  Correspondence  of  Sir  Thomas 
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The  Boscobel  Tracts,  relating  to  the 
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The  Eighth  Volume  of  Dr.  Lingard's 
History  of  England.  4to.  Which  will  bring 
down  the  work  to  the  Revolution. 

Dr.  Lardner's  Cabinet  Cyclopaedia,  Vol. 
IX.  Outlines  of  History,  fcp.  6s. 

An  Historical  Sketch  of  the  Danmonii, 
the  Ancient  Inhabitants  of  Devonshire  and 
Cornwall.  By  Joseph  Chattaway.  Post  8vo. 

CLASSICAL. 

An  Abridgment  in  English  of  Bos  on 
the  Greek  Ellipses.  By  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Seager.  8vo.  9s.  6d. 

Select  Orations  of  Demosthenes,  with 
English  Notes.  By  E.  H.  Barker,  Eq. 
12mo.  8s.  6d. 

Family  Classical  Library.  Vol.  8.  Vir- 
gil. Vol.  1.  4s.  6d. 


J830-3 


List  of  New  Works. 


355 


Horototus,  from  Schwelghaeusen,  with  a 
Collation  with  the  Text  of  Gaisford,  and 
Remarks  on  Various  Readings.  By  Geo. 
Long,  A.M.  Vol.  1.  8vo.  10s.  6d. 

LAW. 

Sugden's  Acts,  by  Lennett.     12mo.  5s. 

Finelly  on  Elections.     12mo.  14s. 

The  Charter  of  the  Free  School  for  the 
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1562.  8vo.  Is. 

MEDICAL. 

Supplement  to  the  London,  Edinburgh, 
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Treatise  on  the  Mineral  Waters  of  Har- 
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A  Treatise  on  Pulmonary  Consumption, 
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MISCELLANEOUS. 

Hortus  Britannicus — A  Catalogue  of  all 
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Characters  of  Genera ;  extracted  from 
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Inquiry  into  the  Rise  and  Growth  of  the 
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Letters  to  the  Holders  of  Greek  Bonds  ; 
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Burn's  Penmanship.     4to.  12s. 

Woodward's  British  Organic  Remains. 
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Rules  for  Bad  Horsemen ;  Hints  to  in- 
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ans. By  Charles  Thompson,  Esq.  A 
New  Edition.  By  John  Hinds,  V.S.  12mo. 
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Account  of  the  Great  Floods  of  August 
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The  Cabinet  Album;  a  Collection  of 
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Revolt  of  the  Angels,  and  the  Fall  from 
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Lord  Byron's  Cain,  a  Mystery ;  with 
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corruption  in  the  Text,  1  Tim.  iii.  16.  By 
E.  Hinderson,  Professor  of  Divinity  and 
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2  Y  2 


356 


List  of  New  Works. 


[SEPT. 


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BIOGRAPHICAL  MEMOIRS  OF  EMINENT  PERSONS. 


SIR   ROBERT    PEEL,    BART. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  rank 
apostacy  of  the  son,  the  father  was  entitled 
to  high  praise; — his  ability,  his  perseve- 
rance, his  integrity,  his  spirit,  his  genero- 
sity, his  benevolence,  his  loyalty,  his  poli- 
tical consistency,  were  all  of  an  elevated 
order,  and  most  deservedly  raised  him  to  a 
proud  and  enviable  eminence  in  the  estima- 
tion of  his  countrymen.  Lamentable  that 
the  last  brief  portion  of  his  life  should 
have  been  embittered  by  moral  and  politi- 
cal abandonment  of  principle,  on  the  part  of 
his  eldest  and  favourite  son  ! 

Neither  by  birth  nor  by  hereditary  wealth, 
was  Mr.  Peel  entitled  to  look  forward  to  dis- 
tinction. He  was  himself  the  seeker,  the 
finder,  the  maker  of  his  own  fortune  — the 
founder  of  his  family ;  yet  his  name,  under- 
stood to  be  of  Gaelic  origin,  seems  to  boast 
antiquity.  The  word  Peel  is  still  used  in 
Scotland,  to  express  a  small  castle ;  and,  In 
the  Gaelic,  Pele,  Peytt,  Peil,  Pael,  or  Paile, 
denotes  a  place  of  strength^  or  fortification 
made  of  earth,  to  distinguish  it  from  a  castle. 
In  this  sense,  Pela  and  Pelma  are  used 
respectively  in  charters  of  Henry  IV.  and 
Edward  III. ;  and  in  Lancashire,  Sir  Ro- 
bert's native  country,  there  is  an  old  fort 
called  the  Peel  or  Poeell,  of  Fouldery. 

William  Peel,  of  Oswaltwich,  in  Lan- 
cashire, was  father  of  the  subject  of  this 
memoir  :  his  mother  was  Jane,  daughter  of 
Robert  Warnesley,  Esq.,  of  Darwin,  in  the 
same  county.  Born  on  the  25th  of  April, 
1750,  he  was  the  third  of  seven  sons  ;  and 
it  is  said  to  have  been  the  original  intention 
of  his  father,  a  man  of  acute  and  powerful 
understanding,  to  establish  all  his  boys  in 
different  branches  of  the  cotton  trade  ;  so 
that,  by  their  ingenuity,  industry,  and  en- 
terprise, they  might  mutually  prove  service- 
able to  each  other.  Robert,  when  at  the 
age  of  fourteen,  is  said  to  have  expressed  a 
determination  to  raise  himself  to  rank  and 
consequence  in  society.  He  devoted  him- 
self very  early  to  explore  the  powers  of  me- 
chanical combination,  particularly  where 
they  could  be  converted  to  the  purpose  of 
his  leading  pursuit.  Until  the  age  of 
twenty-three,  he  remained  under  the  pater- 
nal roof,  storing  his  mind  with  every  descrip- 
tion of  practically  useful  knowledge. 


Somewhat  previously  to  this  period,  the 
cotton  manufactory  had  been  a  compara- 
tively inconsiderable  branch  of  commerce; 
but,  through  inventions  of  Sir  Peter  Ark- 
wright,  it  was  now  rising  in  consequence  ; 
and,  availing  himself  of  his  information, 
skill,  and  a  variety  of  favourable  circum- 
stances, Mr.  Peel,  in  1773,  embarked  in  an 
extensive  manufactory  at  Bury,  in  Lanca- 
shire, in  conjunction  with  a  gentleman  of 
the  name  of  Yates,  whose  daughter,  Ellen, 
he,  fourteen  years  afterwards — the  lady  being 
little  more  than  seventeen — married.  By 
this  union  he  had,  besides  his  successor  (the 
Rt.  Hon.  Sir  Robert  Peel,  Bart.,  Secretary 
of  State  for  the  Home  Department,  &c.) 
five  sons  and  two  daughters,  all  of  whom 
are  well  provided  for,  well  married,  and 
extensively  known  in  public  and  fashion- 
able life.  By  his  second  marriage  (in  1805) 
with  Susanna,  daughter  of  Francis  Clarke, 
Esq.,  and  aunt  of  the  present  Sir  W.  H. 
Clarke,  of  Hitcham,  he  had  no  children. 

So  successful  had  the  Bury  manufactory 
proved,  that,  previously  to  his  marriage 
with  Miss  Yates,  Mr.  Peel  had  been  en- 
abled to  purchase  a  large  estate  in  Lanca- 
shire. This  was  followed,  in  the  course  of 
a  very  few  years  more,  by  extensive  acqui- 
sitions in  Staffordshire  and  Warwickshire. 
At  Tamworth,  which  had  fallen  into  decay 
from  the  loss  of  the  woollen  trade,  he  erected 
immense  cotton  works,  and  the  town  was 
soon  restored  to  a  flourishing  state.  Having 
realized  a  large  landed  property,  which  has 
since  been  augmented  by  several  additions, 
he  obtained  that  state  and  consideration  in 
his  country,  which  entitled  him  to  a  seat  in 
the  legislature  ;  and  accordingly,  in  the  year 
1790,  contending  with  the  ancient  family 
of  Townshend  for  the  patronage  of  the 
borough  of  Tamworth,  he  was  returned  to 
Parliament  as  one  of  its  representatives. 
For  the  same  borough  he  was  re-elected  in 
1796,  1802,  1806,  1807,  1812,  and  1818. 

Long  before  his  entrance  into  Parliament, 
however,  Mr.  Peel  had  distinguished  him- 
self by  the  publication  of  a  pamphlet  enti- 
tled "  The  National  Debt  productive  of 
National  Prosperity."  This  was  in  1780. 
If  we  mistake  not,  Mr.  Peel  was  the  first  to 
maintain  that  the  national  wealth  was  not 
diminished  by  the  increase  of  the  national 


1830.] 


Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons. 


357 


debt,  and  that  statesmen  had  misconceived 
its  operations  by  confounding  the  nature  of 
a  public  with  that  of  a  private  engagement. 
.  With  many  other  men  of  warm  and 
generous  temperaments,  the  genuine  En- 
glish love  of  liberty  animating  their  bosoms, 
Mr.  Peel,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
French  Revolution,  hailed  the  change 
with  unfeigned  satisfaction.  But  his  eyes 
were  soon  opened ;  he  became  one  of  the 
warmest  adherents  of  Mr.  Pitt,  through- 
out the  war  of  the  French  republic ;  and, 
in  1802,  when  a  feeble  attempt  was  made 
to  impeach  that  distinguished  statesman, 
he  made  so  forcible  an  appeal  to  the  feel- 
ings and  recollections  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  thereby  to  those  of  the 
country,  that,  on  the  following  day,  a  sub- 
scription was  opened  in  the  city,  and  he  was 
himself  one  of  the  most  liberal  subscribers, 
to  erect  a  statue  of  Mr.  Pitt,  expressive  of 
the  lively  sense  entertained  of  his  services, 
and  to  convey  to  the  world  a  lasting  mark 
of  the  gratitude  of  the  nation. 
-  In  l?07j  the  period  of  the  voluntary  con- 
tributions, Mr.  Peel  and  his  partner  sub» 
scribed  the  sum  of  10,000/. ;  and,  had  other 
individuals  of  the  community,  equally  com- 
petent, been  equally  liberal,  the  sum  would 
have  been  raised  to  45,OOOJ.  In  1798,  Mr. 
Peel  also  contributed  largely  to  the  forma- 
tion and  support  of  the  Lancashire  Fencibles, 
and  the  Tamworth  Armed  Association  ;  and 
he  raised,  mostly  from  his  own  artificers, 
six  companies  called  the  Bury  Loyal  Volun- 
teers, at  the  head  of  which  he  was  placed  as 
Lieutenant-Colonel. 

For  services  such  as  these,  the  king  was 
graciously  pleased,  on  the  29th  of  November, 
1800,  to  create  him  a  baronet,  designated 
of  Drayton  Park,  in  the  county  of  Stafford. 
.  Sir  Robert  Peel  frequently  spoke  in  Par- 
liament on  commercial  and  manufacturing 
subjects,  with  which  no  man  was  more 
intimately  conversant.  He  was  also  a 
strenuous  advocate  for  the  Union  with 
Ireland,  a  very  able  speech  on  which,  he 
published  in  the  year  1799.  One  of  his 
most  distinguished  public  acts,  was  his 
introduction  of  a  bill,  in  1 802,  to  "  Ame- 
liorate the  condition  of  Apprentices  in  the 
Cotton  and  Woollen  Trade."  In  his  own 
factories,  where  he  is  said  to  have  employed 
at  one  time  no  fewer  than  15,000  persons, 
every  thing  was  done  to  contribute  to  their 
health  and  comfort,  and  also  for  the  general 
moral  and  religious  instruction  of  the  chil- 
dren. 

.  Sir  Robert  Peel  was  one  of  the  governors 
of  Christ's  Hospital,  and  one  of  the  presi- 
dents of  the  Literary  Fund ;  and  he  was 
connected  with  several  other  benevolent  in- 
stitutions. Of  his  general  kindness  and 
liberality,  generosity  and  benevolence,  a 
hundred  anecdotes  might  be  related.  Let 
one  suffice.  Many  years  since,  a  house  of 
first-rate  consequence  in  the  cotton  trade, 
was  brought,  by  imprudently  extending  its 
speculations  beyond  its  capital,  to  the  verge 


of  bankruptcy.  Informed  of  their  pressing 
exigency,  and  convinced  of  the  honour  and 
integrity  of  the  firm,  Sir  Robert  Peel  promptly 
rescued  them  from  their  impending  calamity 
by  a  loan  of  14,OOOJ.  This  loan,  be  it  re- 
membered, was  advanced  to  a  rival  esta- 
blishment, obstinate  and  formidable  in  its 
character. 

Two  years  ago,  on  the  anniversary  of  his 
seventy-eighth  birth-day,  Sir  Robert  Peel 
presented  a  silver  medal  to  each  of  his 
children  and  grandchildren  then  present, 
amounting  to  fifty. 

Sir  Robert  died  somewhat  suddenly,  at 
Drayton  Park,  on  the  2d  of  May,  1830. 
On  the  21st  of  the  same  month,  his  will 
was  proved  in  Doctors'  Commons,  and  his 
property  sworn  to  exceed  1,000,000/.  sterl- 
ing, a  sum  which  bears  the  highest  probate 
duty  (15,000^.).  He  is  said,  however,  to 
have  died  worth  2,500,000/. 

THE  HON.  DOUGLAS  KINNAIRD. 

The  Hon.  Douglas  Kinnaird  was  brother 
of  the  late,  and  uncle  of  the  present  peer. 
"  Uniting,"  as  we  have  before  incidentally 
observed,  "  the  accomplishments  of  a  scho- 
lar, with  the  habits  of  a  man  of  the  world, 
no  individual  was  more  qualified  to  enjoy, 
or  to  gratify  the  extensive  circ  e  of  friends, 
distinguished  by  rank  and  talent,  to  whose 
intercourse  he  was  entitled  equally  by  his 
birth,  his  fortune,  and  his  acquirements." 

The  family  of  Kinnaird  is  traced  back  to 
a  very  remote  period.  Its  name  is  derived 
from  the  lands  and  barony  of  Kinnaird,  in 
Perthshire.  Rodolphus,  who  flourished  in 
the  reign  of  King  William  the  Lion,  in 
1165,  obtained  a  charter  of  those  lands 
from  that  monarch.  His  great  grandson, 
Richardus  was  one  of  the  Scotch  barons 
who  swore  allegiance  to  King  Edward  I., 
in  1296.  The  second  son  of  his  great 
grandson  (Reginald  Kinnaird,  of  Inchture) 
was  ancestor  to  the  lamented  subject  of 
this  brief  memoir.  He  obtained  the  lands 
and  barony  of  Inchture,  in  Perthshire,  by 
marrying  Marjory,  daughter  and  heiress  of 
Sir  John  Kirkaldy,  about  the  year  1399. 
George  Kinnaird,  the  ninth  in  descent  from 
this  Reginald,  having  been  a  steady  friend 
to  the  royal  family,  was,  after  the  restora- 
tion, first  knighted  by  King  Charles  II. 
in  1661,  afterwards  appointed  of  the  Privy 
Council,  and  lastly,  raised  to  the  peerage,  by 
the  title  of  Lord  Kinnaird,  of  Inchture,  by 
patent,  in  1682.  George,  the  seventh 
baron,  married  Elizabeth,  daughter  and 
sole  heiress  of  Griffin  Ransom,  Esq.,  of 
New  Palace-yard,  Westminster,  by  whom 
his  two  sons  were — Charles,  his  successor, 
and  Douglas  James  William,  the  gentle, 
man  of  whom  we  are  writing. 

Mr.  Kinnaird  was  born  on  the  16th  of 
February  1788.  The  early  part  of  his  edu- 
cation he  received  at  Eton,  after  which  he 
passed  some  time  at  Gottingen,  where  he 
acquired  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the 
French  and  German  languages,  particularly 


358 


Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons. 


[SEPT. 


of  the  latter,  which  he  spoke  with  a  correct- 
ness and  fluency  rarely  attained  but  by  a 
native.  From  Gottingen  he  removed  to 
Trinity-college,  Cambridge,  where  he  be- 
came an  intimate  associate  of  Lord  Byron, 
Mr.  Hobhouse,  &c.  With  Mr.  Hobhouse 
he  travelled  in  1813,  through  Sweden  and 
across  the  north  of  Germany  to  Vienna. 
He  was  present  at  the  decisive  battle  of 
Culm,  where,  on  the  29th  and  30th  of  Au- 
gust, the  French  army,  under  Vandame, 
was  routed,  and  the  general  taken  prisoner. 
Not  having  entered  into  any  profession, 
he,  when  his  brother,  Lord  Kinnaird,  re- 
tired from  the  house  of  Ransom,  Morland 
and  Co.,  was  admitted  to  his  share  in  the 
concern. 

In  1815,  Mr.  Kinnaird  became,  with 
Lord  Byron,  the  Hon.  George  Lamb,  and 
Mr.  Peter  Moore,  one  of  the  committee  for 
conducting  the  affairs  of  Drury-lane  Thea- 
tre. With  more  merit  than  success,  he 
attempted  to  revive  some  of  our  old  neg- 
lected dramas,  as  well  as  to  restore  the  credit 
of  the  establishment  itself.  While  on  the 
committee,  he  altered  a  play  of  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher's,  which  was  performed,  and 
obtained  a  certain  portion  of  popularity. 
With  Mr.  Sheridan  he  was  most  intimately 
acquainted,  and  his  name  was  one  of  the 
last  which  Lord  Byron  was  heard  to  pro- 
nounce. Nor  is  this  to  be  wondered  at,  for, 
though  of  a  warm,  and  perhaps,  too  hasty 
temper,  no  man  was  more  constant  in  his  at- 
tachments ;  and  those  who  were  most  deserv- 
ing of  his  regard,  esteemed  and  loved  him  to 
the  last.  As  a  friend,  he  was  active,  zealous, 
persevering,  and  generous.  His  station  and 
his  fortune  enabled  him  to  indulge  a  well- 
cultivated  taste  for  literature  and  all  the 
liberal  arts  ;  there  were  few  subjects  of  ge- 
neral discussion  in  which  he  was  not  com- 
petently informed ;  and,  of  his  distinguished 
contemporaries,  there  was  scarcely  one  who 
was  not  frequently  to  be  found  at  his  hos- 
pitable board. 

When  Lord  Cochrane  retired  from  par- 
liament in  1818,  Mr.  Kinnaird's  well-known 
political  opinions  directed  towards  him  the 
attention  of  the  leaders  of  the  party,  favour- 
able to  a  reform  of  parliament,  in  Westmin- 
ster. He  was  accordingly  proposed  for  the 
representation  of  that  city ;  but  the  unex- 
pected nomination  of  Sir  Samuel  Romilly 
and  of  Sir  Murray  Maxwell,  induced  him  to 
withdraw  from  the  contest.  On  the  vacancy 
occasioned  by  the  subsequent  death  of  Sir 
Samuel,  it  was  intended  again  to  bring  him 
forward  ;  but  he  declined  the  proposal,  and 
exerted  himself  strenuously  in  behalf  of  his 
friend,  Mr.  Hobhouse.  Shortly  afterwards, 
however,  he  became  member  for  Bishop's 
Castle.  With  his  colleague,  Mr.  Knight, 
he  was  re-chosen  for  that  borough  at  the 
general  election  in  1820.  On  the  latter 
occasion  there  was  a  double  return  ;  and, 
when  the  merits  of  the  case  were  investigated 
by  a  committee,  he  lost  his  seat.  From  his 
habits  of  business,  and  his  integrity,  it  is 


probably  to  be  regretted  that  he  never  made 
any  subsequent  attempt  to  enter  into  parlia- 
ment. From  this  period,  however,  he  con- 
stantly attended  as  a  proprietor  at  the  gene- 
ral courts  of  the  East  India  Company.  He 
spoke  on  most  subjects,  and  showed  that  he 
possessed  a  good  knowledge  of  the  Com- 
pany's affairs.  For  many  years,  indeed, 
there  was  scarcely  a  debate  of  importance  in 
which  his  name  was  not  to  be  found. 

For  the  last  year  of  his  life,  Mr.  Kin- 
naird's health  was  observed  to  be  on  the 
decline  ;  but  the  illness  which  terminated 
fatally,  did  not  make  its  appearance  unt^l 
the  month  of  January  last,  nor  was  he  con- 
sidered in  imminent  danger  until  within  a 
few  days  previously  to  his  death.  When 
aware  of  his  condition,  the  irritation  and 
restlessness  of  disease  were  succeeded  by 
composure  and  resignation ;  and,  having 
performed  becomingly  all  the  last  awful 
duties  of  existence,  he  expired  tranquilly 
and  without  pain,  at  his  house  in  Pall-mall 
East,  on  Friday,  the  12th  of  March.  On 
the  Friday  following,  his  remains  were  in- 
terred in  the  church  of  St.  Martin-in-the- 
fields.  The  hearse  was  followed  by  twelve 
mourning  coaches,  and  about  twenty  private 
carriages. 

BARON  FOUVIER. 

The  Baron  Fouvier,  one  of  the  Secre- 
taries of  the  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris, 
was  formerly  a  priest  of  the  oratory.  He 
was  a  native  of  Ouxerre,  in  Burgundy. 
Having  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of 
mathematics,  he  was  appointed  assistant  to 
the  celebrated  M.  de  Prony,  as  professor  of 
geometry  and  arithmetic,  in  their  applica- 
tion to  mechanics.  He  accompanied  Buo- 
naparte to  Egypt,  where  he  was  nominated 
his  commissioner  to  the  government  esta- 
blished in  that  country.  In  1803,  he  was 
made  prefect  of  the  department  of  the  Isere ; 
and,  in  1806,  he  was  invested  with  the 
cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honour. 

On  the  restoration  of  Louis  XVIII.,  M. 
Fouvier  gave  in  his  adhesion  to  the  new 
government,  and  was  confirmed  in  his  pre- 
fecture. In  March,  1815,  he  was  recalled 
by  Buonaparte,  whom  he  had  not  supported 
in  his  department ;  but,  soon  afterwards, 
he  was  appointed  prefect  of  the  Rhone.  In 
that  situation,  however,  his  conduct  was 
such  as  caused  him  to  be  again  dismissed. 
It  would  seem  that  neither  the  Bourbon  nor 
the  Bounapartean  government  reposed  con- 
fidence in  him  ;  for,  on  the  second  return 
of  Louis,  M.  Fouvier  was  not  employed. 
In  May,  1816,  he  was  chosen  an  associate 
of  the  Academy  of  Sciences  ;  but  the  king 
did  not  confirm  his  nomination. 

M.  Fouvier  published  several  dissertations 
in  the  Journal  of  the  Polytechnic  School ; 
and  as  a  member  of  the  Egyptian  Commis- 
sion of  men  of  Science,  he  composed  the 
preface  of  the  memoirs  published  by  them. 
— M.  Fouvier  died  at  Paris,  on  the  17th 
of  May. 


1830.] 


359    ] 


PATENTS  FOR  MECHANICAL  AND  CHEMICAL  INVENTIONS. 


New  Patents  sealed  in  July,  1830. 

To  John  Ericsson,  New-road,  engi- 
neer, for  his  improved  engine  for  com. 
municating  power  for  mechanical  pur- 
poses— 24th  July ;  6  months. 

To  Abraham  Garnett,  Esq.,  Demarara, 
for  certain  improvements  in  manufactur- 
ing sugar. — 24th  July ;  6  months. 

To  Samuel  Roberts,  Park  Grange,  near 
Sheffield,  silver-plater,  for  his  improve- 
ments in  plating  or  coating  of  copper,  or 
brass,  or  mixture  of  the  same  with  other 
metal  or  materials  with  two  metals  or 
substances  upon  each  other,  as  also  a 
method  of  making  such  kind  of  articles 
or  utensils  with  the  said  metal  when  so 
plated,  as  have  hitherto  been  made  either 
entirely  of  silver,  or  of  copper,  or  brass, 
or  of  a  mixture  of  copper  and  brass, 
plated  or  coated  with  silver  solely — 26th 
July  ;  2  months. 

To  Richard  Ibotson,  Poyle,  Stanwell, 
paper-manufacturer,  for  improvements 
in  the  method  for  separating  the  knots 
from  paper  stuff,  or  pulp,  used  in  the 
manufacture  of  paper — 29th  July;  4 
months. 

To  John  Ruthven,  Edinburgh,  engi- 
neer and  manufacturer,  for  his  improved 
machinery  for  navigating  vessels  and 
propelling  of  carriages.— 5th  August ;  6 
months, 

To  James  Down,  Leicester,  surgeon, 
for  improvements  in  making  gas  for 
illuminations,  and  in  the  apparatus  for 
the  same — 5th  August ;  6  months. 

To  John  Street,  Esq.,  Clifton,  Glou- 
cester, for  a  new  method  of  obtaining  a 
rotatory  motion  by  water-steam,  or  gas, 
or  other  vapour,  being  applicable  also  to 
the  giving  blast  to  furnaces,  forges,  and 
other  purposes,  where  a  constant  blast 
is  required — 5th  August ;  2  months. 

To  William  Dobree,  gentleman,  Ful- 
ham,  for  an  independent  safety -boat  of 
novel  construction.  —  5th  August ;  6 
months. 

To  William  Lane,  Stpckport,  Chester, 
cotton-manufacturer,  for  his  improve- 
ments in  machines  which  are  commonly 
known  among  the  cotton-spinners  by  the 
names  of  roving-frames,  or  cove-frames, 
or  bobbin  and  fly -frames,  or  jack-frames. 
— 5th  August ;  4  months. 

To  Thomas  Hancock,  Goswell-mews, 
Goswell-road,  water-proof-cloth-manu- 
facturer, for  improvements  in  certain 
articles  of  dress  or  wearing  apparel, 
fancy  ornaments  and  figures,  and  in  the 
method  of  rendering  certain  manufac- 
tures and  substances  in  a  degree  or  en- 
tirely impervious  to  air  and  water  ;  and 
of  protecting  certain  manufactures  and 


substances  from  being  injured  by  air, 
water,  or  moisture. — 5th  August ;  2 
months. 

To  William  Mallet,  Marlborough,- 
street,  Dublin,  iron-manufacturer,  for 
improvements  in  constructing  certain 
descriptions  of  wheelbarrows 5th  Au- 
gust ;  6  months. 

To  Charles  Shiels,  Liverpool,  mer- 
chant, for  certain  improvements  in  the 
process  of  preparing  and  cleansing  rice. 
— 5th  August ;  6  months. 

To  John  Pearce,  Tavistock,  Devon, 
ironmonger,  for  an  improved  method  of 
making  and  constructing  wheels,  and  in 
the  application  thereof  to  carriages.— 
5th  August ;  6  months. 

To  jEneas  Coffey,  Dock  Distillery, 
Dublin,  distiller,  for  certain  improve- 
ments in  the  apparatus  or  machinery 
used  in  the  process  of'brewingand  distil- 
ling— 5th  August ;  6  months. 

To  Marmaduke  Robinson,  Great 
George-street,  Westminster,  navy  agent, 
for  certain  improvements  in  the  making 
and  purifying  sugars — 5th  August;  6 
months. 

To  Robert  Clough,  Liverpool,  ship, 
broker,  for  an  improved  supporting  block, 
to  be  used  in  graving  docks  and  other 
purposes — 5th  August ;  6  months. 

TD  Sir  Charles  Webb  Dance,  Herts- 
bourne  Manor  Place,  Bushy,  Hertford, 
Knight,  Lieutenant-Colonel,  for  his  im- 
provements in  packing  and  transporting 
goods — 5th  August ;  6  months. 

To  Samuel  Smith,  Princess-street, 
Leicester-fields,  gunmaker,  for  his  in. 
vention  of  a  new  nipple,  or  touch-hole, 
to  be  applied  to  fire-arms  for  the  purpose 
of  firing  the  same  by  percussion,  and  a 
new  cap  or  primer  for  containing  the 
priming  by  which  such  fire-arms  are  to 
be  fired — 9th  August ;  2  months. 

To  William  Palmer,  gentleman,  Wil- 
son-street, Finsbury-square,  for  his  im- 
provements in  making  candles.— .10th 
August ;  6  months. 

John  Law  ranee,  Birmingham,  silver, 
smith,  and  William  Rudder,  Gentleman, 
Ege,  Gloucester,  for  his  improvements 
in  saddles  and  girths  by  an  apparatus 

affixed  to  either  of  them 10th  August ; 

6  months. 

To  Thomas  Ford,  Canonbury-square, 
Islington,  Middlesex,  chemist,  for  his 
having  invented  certain  improvements 
in  the  medicine  for  the  cure  of  coughs, 
colds,  asthmas  and  consumptions,  known 
by  the  name  of  "  Ford's  Balsam  of 
Horehound."  12th  August ;  6  months. 

To  John  Knowles,  Farhain,  Surrey, 
hop-planter,  for  his  having  found  out  or 
invented  a  certain  instrument  or  machine 


360                                 New  and  Expiring  Patents.  [SEPT. 

for  drawing  "up  hop-poles  out  of  the  invented  certain  improvements  in  pro- 
ground  previous  to  picking  the  hops,  pelling  and  giving  motion  to  machinery, 
and  which  by  drawing  the  poles  perpen-  18th  August ;  6  months. 

dicularly  will  greatly  save  them  as  well  

as  prevent  the  nops  from  being  bruised,  List  of  Patents,  which  having  leen  granted 

called  "  a  hop-pole  drawer  by  lever  and  in  the  month  of  September   1U16,  expire 

fulcrum.'*    13th  August ;  2  months.  in  the  present  month  of  September  1830. 

To  Samuel  Roscoe  Bakewell,Whiskin- 

street,  Middlesex,  brick  and  stone  ma-  30.    Charles  Lacy,  Nottingham,  and 

nufacturer,  for  an  invention  of  certain  John  Lindley,  Loughborough,  for  their 

improvements  in  machinery  apparatus  improvements  in    machinery  for  making 

or  implements  to  be  used  in  the  manu-  lace.  . 

facture  of  bricks,  tiles,  and  other  articles  —  Jacob  Metcalf,  London,  for  his  ta- 

to  be  formed  or  made  of  clay,    or  other  pered  hair  or  head-brush. 

plastic  materials,  part  of  which  said  ma-  —  Robert  Clayton,   Dublin,  for  his 

chinery  is  also  applicable  to  other  useful  improved   metal   and    composition    blocks, 

purposes.  — 18th  August ;  6  months.  plates,  rollers,  types  and  dies,  for  printing 

To    Matthew     Towgood,     Dartford,  patterns  on  cloths  and  other  substances. 

Kent,     paper-maker,     and     Leapridge  —  John  Aston  Wilkes,  Birmingham, 

Smith,    JPaternoster-row,   London,   sta-  for  his  method  of  manufacturing  ornamen- 

tioner,  for  their  having  invented  an  im-  tal  glass. 

proved  mode  of  applying  size  to  paper.  —    William  Losh,    Newcastle-upon- 

18  August ;  6  months.  Tyne,  and  George  Stephenson,  Killing- 

To  Major-General  Joseph  Gubbins,  worth,  for  their  improved  rail-way  car- 

Southampton,  Hampshire,  for  his  having  riages. 


MONTHLY  AGRICULTURAL  REPORT. 

THIS  is  indeed  an  exhilirating  crisis  ;  our  disastrous  forebodings  have  been  converted 
into  fortunate  realities.  Instead  of  a  late  harvest  and  ruined  crops,  our  harvest  has  been 
by  no  means  inordinately  late,  and  making  due  allowance  for  local  and  accidental  draw- 
backs, the  crops,  more  especially  those  of  premier  importance,  may  be  deemed  greatly 
productive,  and  to  a  considerable  extent,  of  fine  quality  :  and  thus  much  may  be  safely 
averred,  even  whilst  allowing  for  that  enthusiasm  and  exaggeration  in  men's  minds,  na- 
turally consequent  upon  such  a  delightful  disappointment  as  has  been  experienced. 

On  the  most  forward  lands  of  the  best  districts,  wheat  harvest  commenced  in  the  last 
week  of  July  ;  and  as,  on  the  whole,  the  weather  has  been  favourable,  the  entire,  or  the 
chief  of  that  part  of  the  national  stock  must  be  by  this  time  safely  lodged  in  rick  or 
house.  About  the  middle  of  the  current  month,  wheat  became  ready  for  the  sickle 
throughout  South  Britain,  and  in  the  most  forward  parts  of  the  north ;  far  to  the  north- 
ward, as  usual,  their  harvest  will  be  from  a  week  to  a  fortnight  later.  Barley  requiring 
more  of  the  solstitial  heat  to  brighten  and  give  it  a  fine  hand  in  sample,  on  such  account, 
beside  being  of  second  consideration,  will  be  somewhat  later  than  wheat.  Oats,  beans, 
pease,  seeds,  all  the  crops  of  the  season,  are  either  successfully  stored  or  are  in  active  field 
operation. 

In  the  meantime,  the  seasons,  such  phraseology  being  allowable,  have  been  most  wan- 
tonly capricious.  Since  the  access  of  that  which  we  must  take  for  our  summer  tempera- 
ture, and  which  has  indeed  been  so  beneficial  to  us,  there  has  been  a  series  of  changes 
quite  sufficient  to  demonstrate  that  the  English  climate  has  not  degenerated.  We  have 
had  gleams  of  the  sun,  almost  powerful  enough  to  effect  a  coup  de  soleil,  fanned  by  those 
chilling  breezes  which  "  make  the  cow  to  quake,"  and  have  actually,  in  mid-August,  been 
driven,  in  the  evening,  to  the  tire  side.  The  corn,  however,  in  despite  of  apparently  the 
greatest  disadvantages,  and  all  our  sage  judgments,  had  been  most  pertinaciously  acquir- 
ing its  full  standard  of  growth,  and  of  accretion  and  substance,  and  the  sun  ripened 
it.  It  has  indeed  been  said  that,  in  some  lofty  and  exposed  situations,  the  sudden 
violent  action  of  the  sun  has  been  too  powerful  for  the  wheat  kernel,  desicating  and 
shrinking  it  up.  The  cool  and  drying  winds  have  helped  to  dry  and  mature  the  corn 
crops,  to  prevent  any  ill-effects  from  casual  showers,  and  to  moderate  the  labours  of 
harvest.  Amongst  the  atmospheric  excesses  of  the  present  year,  a  late  storm  of 
wind,  rain,  and  lightning,  near  Maidstone,  in  Kent,  stands  pre-eminent ;  indeed, 
according  to  the  description,  approaching  the  terrific  character  of  a  West  Indian 
hurricane  or  tornado.  The  rain  descended  in  torrents,  amid  the  glare  of  lightning  and 
the  rattling  of  thunder,  and  every  moveable  thing  gave  way  to  the  terrific  and  sudden 
gusts  of  a  most  impetuous  wind.  Sheaves  of  corn  were  taken  up  by  the  wind  and  blown 
over  the  hedge  into  an  adjoining  field.  The  standing  part  of  a  crop  of  clover  was  beat  down 
by  the  fury  of  the  tempest,  as  though  trodden  down  by  a  flock  of  sheep,  whilst  the  whole 


1830.]  Agricultural  Report.  361 

of  the  clover  which  had  been  cut  was  carried  away  by  the  wind,  dispersed  and  totally  lost. 
Two  large  chestnut  trees  were  blown  down,  numbers  of  others  stripped  of  their  branches, 
and  one  branch  of  the  weight  of  IGlbs.,  with  many  others,  was  taken  up  into  the  air  by 
the  raging  element,  and  carried  half  a  mile.  Hop-poles  were  blown  about  in  all  direc- 
tions, trees  uprooted,  barns  overthrown,  and  as  the  most  extraordinary  proof  of  the  vio- 
lence of  the  gale,  a  post-chaise,  at  Ashford,  taking  shelter  under  a  gateway,  was  driven  by 
the  wind  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  dashed  with  great  violence  against  a  win- 
dow. With  several  narrow  escapes,  happily  no  lives  were  lost.  The  storms  of  this  day 
were  local,  and  generally  at  no  great  distance  from  the  sea  coast.  The  heavy  rains  of  this 
month,  in  Ireland,  in  particular  near  Enniskillen,  have  been  attended  with  far  more  fatal 
effects,  the  floods  having  carried  off  and  destroyed  great  part  of  the  crops  and  property  of 
the  poor  inhabitants,  with  the  loss  of  a  considerable  number  of  lives. 

The  early  hay  harvest  was  most  troublesome  and  expensive,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the 
portion  saved  in  good  condition,  was  inconsiderable  in  comparison  with  the  less  fortunate. 
With  the  clovers,  and  the  grass  which  was  reserved  in  expectation  of  more  favourable 
weather,  corn  and  hay  harvest  thus  coming  together,  the  result  has  been  fortunate.  The 
stock  of  hay,  however,  next  season,  though  again  abundant,  will  not  be  generally  fine. 
There  is  a  good  prospect  for  lattermath,  or  a  second  cut,  especially  in  the  grasses  which 
were  mowed  earliest.  The  growing  clovers,  vetches,  and  sainfoin,  are  in  many  parts 
blighted.  The  bulk  of  wheat  upon  the  ground  appeared  fully  to  warrant  the  judgment 
of  a  general  and  full  average  in  the  crop,  which  we  trust  will  be  ultimately  confirmed 
upon  the  barn  floor.  The  straw  is  great  upon  good  lands,  the  ears  of  imposing  size,  and 
apparently  well  tilled.  On  poor  and  neglected  soils,  of  course,  we  do  not  look  for  such  a 
splendid  show  ;  but  a  most  fortunate  peculiarity  distinguishes  the  present  harvest ;  from 
some  occult  cause  or  virtue  in  the  seasons  of  this  year,  favourable  to  poor  soils,  such,  and 
most  remarkably  in  Essex  and  Norfolk,  have  been  uncommonly  productive.  The  rust  or 
red-gum,  masses  of  the  eggs  of  the  blight  insects,  upon  the  wheat,  were  fortunately  pre- 
vented from  reaching  maturity,  by  the  favourable  change  of  weather.  On  submitting 
various  ears  of  wheat  to  the  magnifier,  we  found  the  dinginess  and  roughness  of  blight, 
with  spots  cf  rust  upon  the  chaff,  but  the  kernels  fair  and  untouched,  bating  some  few 
shrivelled  or  decayed.  Judgment  on  the  crops  of  barley  and  oats,  is  yet  in  abeyance ;  but 
though  they  are  for  the  most  part  satisfactory,  they  are  not  in  point  of  quantity,  deemed  to 
hold  equal  proportions  with  wheat.  Beans  are,  indeed,  a  magnificent  crop,  probably  having 
thrown  out  the  largest  and  tallest  stalks  witnessed  by  any  living  man.  But  Nature,  in  her 
ordinary  course,  does  not  confer  double  benefits,  and  for  our  superabundance  in  haulm,  we 
must  make  an  abatement  in  pods  :  there  will  nevertheless  be  an  ample  stock  of  beans, 
which  cannot  be  said  of  pease,  the  least  successful  of  this  year's  crops.  The  old  error  of 
far  too  narrow  rows,  with  beans,  as  with  all  other  chilled  crops,  has  doubtless  operated 
here.  The  bean  stalks  have  been  drawn  up  to  a  greater  height  and  bulk,  by  the  closeness 
of  their  position.  Potatoes,  that  never  failing  addition  to  the  national  stock  of  bread, 
promise  to  be  fine  in  quality,  and  a  bulky  crop.  The  turnip  seed,  put  into  the  ground  too 
generally  with  all  the  difficulties  and  obstructions  of  imperfect  and  foul  tilth,  has  neverthe- 
less produced  abundance  of  plants,  a  sufficiency  of  which  seem  to  have  outgrown  the  fly. 
As  to  the  general  foul  state  of  the  lands,  it  is  useless  for  us  to  declaim — the  tenantry,  it 
is  insisted,  cannot  afford  to  keep  men  and  cattle  sufficient  for  the  purposes  of  good  hus- 
bandry. With  regard  to  a  considerable  part  of  the  occupiers,  we  remain  still  incredulous. 
Were  we  to  speak  of  the  glorious  exhibition  of  docks  and  thistles,  which  we  have  lately 
witnessed  upon  corn  lands,  we  should  not  degrade  them  by  describing  them  as  shrubs,  but 
equal  them  for  bulk  and  altitude  with  the  trees  of  barren  soils  !  Weed  vegetation  is 
eating  out  the  heart  of  British  land.  Our  country  newspapers  are  reaping  a  plenteous 
harvest  from  the  advertisements  of  farms  to  be  let,  and  estates  to  be  sold.  The  former 
too,  in  counties  where,  in  the  prosperous  days  of  yore,  a  man  might  with  equal  chance  of 
success  seek  a  place  at  court,  as  the  tenancy  of  a  farm.  Mangold  or  cattle  beetroot  (not 
marygold,  according  to  a  late  misprint),  is  a  good  and  healthy  plant.  This  favourite  crop 
is  said,  however,  to  be  rather  waning  in  repute,  it  being  discovered,  at  last,  that  quality 
is  at  least  of  as  much  consequence  as  quantity  ;  and  that  the  rutabaga,  or  Swedish  turnip, 
the  culture  of  which  may  yet  be  much  improved,  is  a  greatly  superior  article.  To  class 
great  producers  together,  we  quote  for  the  first  time,  the  symphytum  asperrimum,  or 
prickly  compey,  lately  introduced  by  Mr.  Grant,  of  the  nursery,  Lewisham,  Kent,  as  green 
food  for  all  kinds  of  live  stock.  The  hops,  as  well  as  the  other  productions  of  the  soil, 
have  received  considerable  benefit  from  the  change  of  weather ;  but  that  most  precarious 
of  crops  is  said  to  have  been  too  deeply  injured,  to  admit  of  the  hope  of  a  perfect  recovery, 
or  of  a  large  produce. 

Nothing  of  novelty  offers  with  respect  to  live  stock.  Our  fairs  and  markets  have  been 
generally  filled,  as  usual  of  late  years,  to  an  overflow ;  some  fortunate  sellers,  generally 
the  holders  of  prime  articles,  retiring  contented  with  a  quick  sale,  and  good  price,  others 
driving  away  their  bargains  unsold.  Complaints  are  still  general  that  grazing  is  unat. 
tended  with  profit,  and  that  pigs  are  so  numerous  that  nothing  can  be  acquired  by  breed- 
ing them.  Wool  continues  marketable  at  an  improving  price,  and  one  great  holder  lately 

M.M.  Neiv  Series VOL.  X.  No.  57.  2  Z 


362  Agricultural  Report.  [SEPT. 

sold  12,000  fleeces  at  Dorchester.  Sheep  and  lambs  have  greatly  improved  in  condition 
at  grass  since  the  cessation  of  the  heavy  and  constant  rains.  Great  complaints  from 
Wales,  on  their  markets  being  overrun  with  cattle,  sheep,  and  pigs,  from  Ireland.  Some 
weeks  since,  bread  corn  was  very  scarce  and  dear  in  the  Principality,  and  throughout 
England  the  stock  proves  to  be  even  lower  than  was  anticipated.  In  a  great  number  of 
parishes,  there  is  scarcely  a  wheat-rick  to  be  seen.  The  vast  imports  encouraged  by  the 
expectation  of  a  bad  crop,  has  greatly  reduced  the  price,  which  must  yet  have  a  further 
considerable  decline  from  that  hurrying  of  the  new  wheat  to  market,  which  from  circum- 
stances must  inevitably  take  place. 

Smithfield—Eeef  2s.  9d.  to  4s — Mutton,  3s.  to  4s.  4d — Veal,  3s.  8d.  to  4s.  lOd — 
Lamb,  3s.  lOd.  to  4s.  8s.— Pork,  4s.  to  5s.  dairy — Raw  fat,  2s.  2d.  per  stone. 

Corn  Exchange. — Wheat,  50s.  to  80s Barley,  (grinding)  26s.  to  34s — Oats,  22s. 

to  33s — London  4  Ib.  Loaf,  lO^d. — Hay,  40s.  to  105s.  per  load — Clover,  ditto,  50s. 
to  112s — Straw,  42s.  to  55s. 

Coals  in  the  Pool,  27s.  to  35s.  6d.  per  chaldron. 
Middlesex,  August  23. 


MONTHLY  COMMERCIAL  REPORT. 

SUGAB. — Muscovadoes  continue  firm,  the  demand  is  extensive,  and  the  holders 
obtain  higher  prices.  Brown  sugars  are  Cd.  to  Is.  higher  ;  the  fine  scarce,  and  also 
higher  ;  the  refined  market  is  rather  heavy,  less  doing  for  export,  no  reduction  in 
currency;  the  low  quality  of  lumps  have  been  taken  off  with  spirit;  few  sales  of 
the  middling  and  better  descriptions,  for  export,  have  been  made;  some  small 
parcels  of  crushed  for  the  Mediterranean.  The  public  sales  of  foreign  sugar,  175 
boxes  of  Havannah,  of  which  above  170  sold ;  fine  yellow,  strong,  25s.  to  26s.  6d. ; 
brown  and  fine  yellow,  22s.  to  25s.  6d. ;  Pernams  and  white,  25s.  to  27s.  The 
market  is  from  Is.  to  Is.  6d.  lower  for  white  Havannah.  The  sale  at  the  India  House 
of  East  India  sugar  consisted  of  16,689  bags;  Bengal,  all  sold,  white  to  good  mid- 
dling, 29s.  to  32s.  6d. ;  yellow,  fine,  and  very  fine,  25s.  6d.  to  30s. 

COFFEE.— Little  varied  as  to  prices  ;  British  plantation  has  given  way  Is.  to  2s. 
per  cwt.,  but  the  market  seems  recovering  the  depression.  Jamaica  coffee  sold  this 
week  is  about  900  casks ;  Demerara  and  Berbice,  the  ordinary  and  fine  ordinary, 
has  been  taken  for  shipment  at  35s.  and  42s. ;  Batavia  sold  at  27s.  and  31s. ;  good 
ordinary  Ceylon,  30s.  and  31s. ;  Sumatra,  25s.  6d. ;  good  ordinary  St.  Domingo, 
mixed,  sold  at  31s. 

RUM,  BRANDY,  HOLLANDS. — About  250  puncheons  of  Leeward  Island  Rum, 
two  over  at  Is.  S^d. ;  six  over  at  Is.  9gd. ;  and  ten  and  twelve  over  at  Is.  10|d.  In 
Jamaica  Rum,  we  have  heard  of  no  purchases.  Several  parcels  of  Brandy  have 
been  re-sold  at  a  profit.  In  Geneva  there  is  no  variation. 

HEMP,  FLAX,  AND  TALLOW. — The  Tallow  market  is  brisk,  and  Is.  higher  than 
our  last.  Hemp  is  dull :  in  Flax  there  is  no  alteration.  Stock  of  Tallow  in 
London,  in  1 829,  2,826  hogsheads ;  in  1830,  13,143  hogsheads. 

Course  of  Foreign  Exchange. — Amsterdam,  12.  6. — Rotterdam,  12.  6| — Antwerp, 

12.  5^.— Hamburg,  13.  15.— Altona,  13.  15J.— Paris,  25.50 Bordeaux,  25.  80 

Berb'n,  0.— Frankfort-on-the-Main,  153.  O^.— Petersburg,  16.  0.— Vienna,  10. 12 — 
Trieste,  10. 12  —Madrid,  36. 0.— Cadiz,  36.  Of.— Bilboa,  36.  0.— Barcelona,  36. 0.— 
Seville,  36.  0£.— Gibraltar,  47.  0^.— Leghorn,  48.  0.— Genoa,  25.  75.— Venice, 
46.  0.— Malta,  48.  0|.— Naples,  39.  Of.— Palermo,  119.0.— Lisbon,  45. 0.— Oporto, 
45.  0.— Rio  Janeiro,  22.  0 — Bahia,  28.  0.— Dublin,  1.  0^.— Cork,  1.  O^. 

Bullion  per  Ox. — Portugal  Gold  in  Coin,  £0.  Os.  Od.— Foreign  Gold  in  Bars, 
£3.  17s.  lO^d.—New  Doubloons,  £0.  Os.  Od.— New  DoUars,  £0.  4s.  9|d.— Silver  in 
Bars  (standard),  £0.  Os.  Od. 

Premiums  on  Shares  and  Canals,  and  Joint  Stock  Companies,  at  the  Office  of 
WOLFE,  Brothers,  23,  Change  Alley,  CornhilL— Birmingham  CANAL,  ($  sh.)  291 /. — 
Coventry,  850/. — Ellesmere  and  Chester,  907. — Grand  Junction,  2801 — Kennet  and 
Avon,  29/. — Leeds  and  Liverpool,  462/. — Oxford,  635/. — Regent's,  24/. — Trent  and 
Mersey,  (\  sh.)  750/. — Warwick  and  Birmingham,  284/. — London  DOCKS  (Stock), 
78i/.— West  India  (Stock),  19 1J/.— East  London  WATER  WORKS,  1287.— Grand 
Junction,  60/ — West  Middlesex,  80/. — Alliance  British  and  Foreign  INSURANCE, 
9|/.— Globe,  155/.— Guardian,  28^.— Hope  Life,  7^-— Imperial  Fire,  120/.-GAS- 
LIGHT  Westminster,  chartered  Company,  60/.— City,  19 \L— British,  14  dis — 
Leeds,  195J. 


1830.] 


[    303    ] 


ALPHABETICAL  LIST  OF  BANKRUPTCIES, 

Announced  from  July  23d,  to  August  23d,  1830,  in  the  London  Gazette. 


BANKRUPTCIES  SUPERSEDED. 

W.  Scott,  New  Village,  York,  linen-draper. 
H.  Smyth,  Piccadilly,  hosier 
J.  Hay,  Addle-street,  warehouseman 
E.  Russell  and  T.  Webb,  Stourport,  timber-mer- 
chants 
J.  Millar,  Wood-street,  warehouseman 

BANKRUPTCIES. 

[This  Month  54.] 
Solicitor's  Names  are  in  Parenthesis. 

Anderson,     R.,     Cockspur-street,    gun-maker. 

(Chester,  Union-street,  New  Kent-road 
Atkinson,  T.,  Holbeach,  wheelwright,    (Palmer 

and  Co.,  Chancery-lane  ;  Ayliff,  Holbeach 
Bacon,  R.,Feiicliuich-sti-eet,  tea-broker.    (Gates 

and  Co.,  White  Hart-court 
Bithtell.G.,  Manchester,  victualler.    (Milnerand 

Co.,  Casson,  Manchester 
Baker,!.  B.,  Conduit-street,  tailor.  (Mayhew  and 

Co.,  Carey-street 

Bonney,  J.  G.,  Tower-hill,  wine-merchant.  (Hen- 
son,  Bouverie-street 
Bill,     W.,      Birmingham,      brass-cock-founder. 

(Clarke  and  Co.,  Lincoln's-inn-tields  ;  Tyndall 

and  Co.,  Birmingham 
Colegate,  J.,    Kennington,   carpenter.    (Tucker 

and  Co.,  Basinghall-street 
Complin,  J.  Y.,  New  Alversford,  corn-merchant. 

(Bridger,  Finsbury-eircus  ;  Caiger,  Winchester 
Comley,  G.,  Uley,   clothier.    (Parker  and  Co., 

Bristol 
Dobson,   B.  W.,    Percy  .street,  dealer.    (Follett, 

Temple 
Evers,  R.,  Wakefteld,    corn-factor.    (Adlington 

and  Co.,  Bedford-row;  Taylor,  Wakefield 
English,   J.,   Strand,  hosier.    (Hardwicke  and 

Co.,  Lawrence-lane 
Feltham,  J.,  Sydlyng-street,  Nicholas-street,  mil- 

ler.    ( Alexander  and  Son,  Carey-street  ;  Hen- 

ning,  Dorcester 
Gouthwaite,  J.,  Leeds,  butcher.    (Few  and  Co., 

Henrietta  street ;  Bloome  and  Co.,  Leeds 
Hanson,  S.  and  W.,Langfield,  timber-merchants. 

(Wiggleswovth      and      Co.,     Gray's-inn-lane ; 

Thompson,  Stanstield  and  Thompson,  Halifax 
Hawley,  J.,  Wapping,  provision-dealer.    (Fresh- 
field  and  Son,  Bank-buildings 
Hormlen,    P.,    Chelsea,    bookseller.    (Beetham, 

Freemason's-court 
Hill,  W.,   sen.,  and    W.   Hill,  jun.,  Southwark, 

salters.    (Richardson,  Walbrook 
Huddleston,  G., Great  Driffield,  Bookseller.  (Ellis 

and  Co.,  Chancery-lane  ;  Scotchburn  and  Co., 

Great  Driffield 
Heginhotham,  W.  M.,  Stockport,  cotton-spinner. 

(Hurd  and  Co.,  Temple  ;Wigson  and  Co.,  Man- 
chester 
Harris,  W.,  Manchester,  merchant.    (Milne  and 

Co.  Temple  ;  Potter,  Manchester 
James,  J.,  Woolwich,  innkeeper.    (Cornthwaite, 

Doctor's-commons  ;  Buxton,  Charlton 
Larkin,    C.,    Newcastle-upon-Tyne,    victualler. 


(Williamson,  Gray's -inn;  Ingledew,  New- 
castle 

Maddox,  J.  E.,  Beaufort-buildings,  coal-mer- 
chant. (Jones,  Size-lane 

Molt,  R.  D.,  Gloucester-terrace,  formerly  wine- 
merchant,  now  out  of  business.  (Drawbridge, 
Arundel-street 

M'Loughland,  A,,  Bolton-le-Moors,tailor.  (Milne 
and  Co. .Temple;  Briggs  and  Co.,  Bolton-le- 
Moors 

Mather,  J.,  Salford,  builder.  (Ellis  and  Co., 
Chancery-lane  ;  Lonsdale  and  Co.,  Manchester 

Marsden,  M.,  Birchover,  grocer.  (Abbot  and 
Co.,  Symond's-inu  ;  Andrew,  Wirksworth 

Osborn,  C.,  Warwick,  draper.  (Sharpe  and  Co., 
Old  Jewry;  Haynes,  Warwick 

Oldland,  J.,  Wotton-under-Edge,  clothier.  (Me- 
redith, Lothbury 

Prebble,  J.,  Rathbone  place,  upholsterer.  (Brook- 
ing and  Co.,  Lombard  street 

Polden,  A,  J.,  Billiter-square,  merchant.  (Mit- 
chell, New  London-street 

Sprigg,  R.  A.,  High  Holborn,  leather-seller. 
(Sherwood  and  Son,  Dean-street,  Southwark 

Smith,  J., Manchester,  publican.  (Adlington  and 
Co.,  Bedford-row  ;  Morris,  Manchester 

Shenton,  W.,  Manchester,  miller.  (Jayes,  Chan- 
cery-lane ;  Greaves  and  Co.,  Leicester 

Spurway,  W.,  Finsbury,  builder.  (Young,  Mark- 
lane 

Stiff,  J.  'and  H.,  Little  Lever,  calico-printers, 
(Austin  and  Co.,  Gray's-iiMi 

Squire,  F.,  Great  Newport-street,  coffee-house- 
keeper. (Burt,  Milre-court 

Sid  ford,  J.,  Tunbridge  Wells,  linen-draper. 
(Willis  and  Co.,  Token-house-yard 

Thovoughgood,  W.,  jun.,  Bagnigge  Wells,  vic- 
tualler. (Swan,  Doctor's-commons 

Thomas,  J.,  Canterbury,  glover.  (Miller,  Ely- 
place 

Tankard,  J.,  Clayton,  worsted-stuff-maker. 
(Jones,  John-street ;  Nicholson,  Bradford 

Travis,  N.  and  Stopford,  J.,  Audenshaw,  hat- 
manufacturers.  (Alakinson  and  Co.,  Temple  ; 
Makinson,  Manchester 

White,  C.  W.,  Mile  End  Old  Town,  victualler. 
(Ayiton,  Stepney 

Williams,  R.,  Clowtybout,  draper.  (Adlington 
and  Co.,  Bedford-row  ;  Frodsham,  Liverpool 

White,  J.,  Ratcliffe  Highway,  bookseller.  (Wil- 
ley  and  Co.,  Bank-buildings 

Wharton,  H.  J.,  Stockwell,  wine-agent.  (Pink- 
ney,  Mitre-court 

Woodburn,  W.,  and  E.  Jackson,  Ulverston,  tal- 
low-chandlers. (Ellis  and  Co.,  Chancery-lane 

Way,  R.,  Somerton,  victualler.  (King  and  Co., 
Gray's-inn 

Williams,  T.  C.,  Norwich,  tea-dealer.  (Swain 
and  Co.,Frederick's-place 

Whinyates,  J.,  and  S.  Whinyates,  Liverpool, 
provision-merchants.  (Towne,  Broad-street- 
buildings  ;  Minshul,  Liverpool. 

Wilson,  J.,  Manchester,  victualler.  (Bower 
Chancery-lane  ;  Richards,  Manchester 

Young,  S.,  Mansell-street,  carpenter.  (Shaw 
and  Co.,  Fencburch-street 


ECCLESIASTICAL  PREFERMENTS. 


Rev.  P.  Bliss,  to  the  Rectory  of  Avening, 
Gloucester — Rev.  G.  Porter,  to  the  Living 
of  Monk  Sherborne,  Hants — Rev.  R.  Davies, 
to  the  Rectory  of  Llanengrad  and  Llanatigd, 


Anglesea. — Rev.  T.  Clarkson,  to  the  Rec- 
tory of  Beyton,  Suffolk. — Rev.  J.  D.  Borton, 
to  the  Vicarage  of  Felmingham,  Norfolk. — 
Rev.  P.  Toler,  to  the  perpetual  Curacy  of 
2  Z  2 


364 


Ecclesiastical  Preferments. 


[[SEPT. 


Burrow,  King's  County. — Rev.  E.B.  Sparke, 
to  the  Vicarage  of  Littleport,  Isle  of  Ely.— 
Rev.  S.  Clissold,  to  the  Living  of  Wren- 
tham,  Suffolk — Rev.  J.  F.  Beadon,  to  the 
Vicarage  of  Corapton  Bishop,  Somerset. — 
Rev.  C.  Webber,  jun.,  to  the  Rectory  of 
Felpham,  Sussex — Rev.  H.  P.  Hamilton, 
to  the  Rectory  of  Wath,  Yorkshire. — Rev. 
R.  Pym,  to  the  Rectory  of  Elmley,  York- 
shire— Rev.  R.  Gee,  to  the  perpetual  Curacy 
of  Formoham  and  Cockington,  Devon. — 
Rev.  F.  Todd,  to  the  Rectory  of  Meshaw, 
Devon — Rev.  T.  Selkirk,  to  be  Domestic 
Chaplain  to  Lord  Dunmore. — The  promo- 
tion of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Galbraith  to  the 
Vicarage  of  Tuam,  has  enabled  the  Arch- 
bishop to  divide  the  Rectory  of  Newport 
into  three  livings.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Hargrave, 
has  been  nominated  to  Kilmeena,  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Stoney  to  Newport,  and  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Wilson  to  Achill — Rev.  W.  F.  Hook,  and 
Rev.  S.  Madan,  to  be  Chaplains  to  the 
King — Rev.  J.  Merewether  and  Rev.  W. 
Keeper,  to  be  Chaplains  to  the  Queen — 
Rev.  T.  Furbank,  to  the  perpetual  Curacy 

of  Bramley,    York Rev.    G.    Pigott,  to 

the  perpetual  Curacy  of  St.  Mary,  Mellor, 
Lancashire — Rev.  W.  St.  J.  Mildmay,  to 
the  Rectory  of  Dogmesfield,  Hants. — Rev. 


W.  Gray,  'to  the  perpetual  Curacy  of  St. 
Giles  on  the  Heath,  Cornwall — Rev.  W. 
Burrows,  to  the  Vicarage  of  Christ  Church, 
Hants — Rev.  C.  C.  Bartholomew,  to  Star- 
cross  District  Chapelry Rev.  J.  Williams, 

to  the  Rectory  of  Kenberton,  with  the 
Vicarage  of  Sutton  Maddock,  Salop — Rev. 
J.  Holmes,  to  the  head  mastership  of  Leeds 

Grammar  School Rev.  L.  Cooper,  to  the 

impropriate  Rectory  of  Hawkeshead,  Lan- 
cashire— Rev.  M.  Hughes,  to  the  Vicarage 
of  Corwen,  Merionethshire. — Rev.  R.  M, 
Chatfield,  to  the  united  Vicarages  of  Wils- 

ford  and  Woodford Rev.  H.  R,  Rokeby, 

to  the  Rectory  of  Arthingworth,  Northamp- 
ton— Rev.  J.  Fox,  to  be  master  of  St.  Bee's 
Free  Grammar  School,  Cumberland — Rev. 
S.  Dowell,  to  the  united  Livings  of  Sherwell- 
cum-Motison,  Isle  of  Wight.— Rev.  J. 
Glover,  jun.  to  the  Rectory  of  Rand,  Lin- 
coln  Rev.  E.  Smyth,  to  the  Vicarage  of 

East  Haddon,  Northampton — Rev.  C.  Carr, 
to  be  officiating  minister  of  the  church 
of  Newborough,  Northampton. — Rev.  C. 
Craufurd,  to  be  Chaplain  to  the  Marquis  of 
Londonderry — Rev.  E.  B.  Frere,  to  the* 
perpetual  Curacy  of  St.  Lawrence,  Ilketshall, 
Suffolk. 


CHRONOLOGY,  MARRIAGES,  DEATHS,  ETC. 


CHRONOLOGY. 

August  1.  News  arrived  stating,  that  in 
consequence  of  the  King  of  France's  ordi- 
nances against  the  Chambre  des  Deputes 
of  France,  its  dissolution,  and  also  his 
decrees  against  the  liberty  of  the  press,  a 
Revolution  had  broken  out  at  Paris,  July 
27,  and  continued  till  the  29th,  when 
Charles  X.  was  obliged  to  abdicate  the 
throne,  and  the  Duke  of  Orleans  was 
chosen  Lieutenant-General  of  the  kingdom. 

4.  Report  made  to  the  King  by  the 
Recorder  of  the  convicts  capitally  con- 
demned at  the  July  Sessions,  when  His 
Majesty  respited  them  all  during  his  royal 
pleasure. 

7.  The  Duke  of  Orleans  chosen  by  the 
Chambre  des  Paris,  and  the  Chambre  des 
De'pute"s,  King  of  the  French. 

17.  Charles  X.,  late  King  of  France, 
arrived  at  Spithead,  with,  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  d'Angouleme,  the  Duchess  of 
Berri,  and  her  children,  and  their  suite, 
General  Marmont,  Duke  of  Ragusa,  &c. 

17.  Meeting  held  at  the  London  Tavern 
for  the  purpose  of  subscribing  for  and  con- 
gratulating the  French  people  on  the  recent 
revolution. 

17-  Sir  Thomas  Beevor,  Bart.,  by  re- 
quest of  a  Meeting  held  at  London  Tavern, 
August  16,  set  off  as  bearer  of  an  address 
from  the  London  Reformers  to  the  people 
of  Paris. 


18.  A  dinner,  at  which  upwards  of  300 
persons  were  present,  was  held  at  the  Free 
Mason's  Tavern,  in  celebration  of  the  tri- 
umph of  constitutional  freedom  in  France, 
Sir  F.  Burdett  in  the  chair.  The  gallery 
at  the  end  of  the  hall  was  filled  with  ladies ; 
the  tri- coloured  cockade,  and  other  decora- 
tions of  a  like  nature  were  exhibited. 


MARRIAGES. 

At  Kew,  Rev.  R.  W.  Jelf  (preceptor  to 
Prince  George  of  Cumberland)  to  Countess 
Emmy,  Slippenbach,  maid  of  honour  to  the 

Duchess  of  Cumberland Hon.   and  Rev. 

C.  Bathurst,  to  Emily  Caroline,  youngest 

daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Abingdon J.  P. 

St.  George,  esq.,  to  Eliza  Sophia,  daughter 
of  Lieut.-Col.  Booth — R.  Ellison,  esq., 
to  Charlotte,  eldest  daughter  of  Sir  G. 
Chetwynd,  bart — Lord  Porchester,  eldest 
son  of  the  Earl  of  Carnarvon,  to  Henrietta 
Anne,  daughter  of  Lord  H.  M.  Howard, 
and  niece  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk — At  St. 
George's,  Hanover-square,  T.  W.  Bramston, 
esq.,  to  Eliza,  fifth  daughter  of  the  late 

Sir   Eliab   Harvey At    Tissington,    F. 

Wright,  esq.,   to  Selina  Fitzherbert,  eldest 

daughter  of  Sir  Henry  Fitzherbert,  bart 

St.  Andrew  St.  John,  jun.,  esq.,  to  Dorcas 
Serrell,  youngest  daughter  of  A.  Iremonger, 
esq.,  of  Guernsey. — At  St.  George's, 
Hanover-square,  St.  George  Caulfield,  esq., 
1st  Life  Guards,  to  Susan,  daughter  of 


1830.] 


Chronology,  Marriages,  and  Deaths. 


365 


Lady  Charlotte  Crofton,  and  sister  to  the 
present  Lord  Crofton. — Rev.  E.  C.  Ogle, 
to  Sophia,  youngest  daughter  of  Admiral 
Sir  Charles  Ogle,  bart.,  M.P. 

DEATHS. 

In  Upper  Bedford-place,  Mrs.  Scarlett, 
89. — At  Gloucester,  Hon.  Mrs.  G.  Browne, 
widow  of  the  Hon.  G.  Browne,  and  son  of 
Lord  Kilmaine — Lady  Dering,  74,  widow 
of  the  late  Sir  E.  Bering,  bart — At  Min- 
terne  House,  Eleanor,  relict  of  the  late  Rt. 
Hon.  R.  Digby,  Admiral  of  the  Fleet — 
At  Woolwich,  Eularia,  Lady  Dickson — 
Mrs.  Weld,  widow  of  the  late  T.  Weld, 
esq.,  and  mother  of  Cardinal  Weld,  Lul- 
worth  Castle. — At  Brighton,  Mrs.  Perkins, 
83 — At  Lysfaen,  102,  Mr.  Wm.  Jenkins ; 
he  joined  the  Wesleyan  connection  at  the 
age  of  17j  when  Mr.  John  Wesley  was  on 

his  misson  to  Carmarthen At  Lane  End, 

I.  Tuff,  70,  drum-major  to  the  Lane  End 
Volunteers.  The  deceased,  his  father, 
grandfather,  and  great-grandfather,  were  all 
drum-majors  in  his  majesty's  service  ;  and 
the  last  three  all  died  at  Chelsea  Hospital. 
— Lady  Grey  Egerton,  relict  of  the  late  Sir 
G.  Egerton,  bart — At  Caen  Wood,  Lady 
Cecilia  Sarah  Murray,  daughter  of  Earl 
Mansfield. — Capt.  H.  Dallas,  eldest  son  of  Sir 
G.Dallas,  bart.— J.  W  Unwin,  esq.,  one  of 


the  Middlesex  coroners. — H.  Dick,  esq.,  late 
M.P.,Maldon — At  Sevenoaks,  William  Lee, 
105,  "  King  of  the  Gipsies."  Many  of  our 
readers  will,  doubtlessly,  remember  seeing 
his  majesty,  during  the  hop  season,  riding 
on  a  donkey  supported  by  his  wife  on  one 
side,  and  his  son,  quite  an  old  man,  on  the 
other ;  his  appearance  was  any  thing  but 
pleasing,  having  lost  nearly  the  whole  of  his 
mental  and  corporeal  faculties.  The  power 
of  utterance,  when  we  last  saw  this  pitiable 
being,  appeared  quite  to  have  forsaken  him, 
and  his  whole  aspect  was  scarcely  human. 
(  Maids  tone  Journal.) 

MARRIAGES  ABROAD. 

At  Paris,  the  Duke  de  Montebelle  to 
Ellen,  youngest  daughter  of  C.  Jenkinson, 
esq.— At  the  British  Ambassador's,  Paris, 
W.  E.  Image,  esq.,  to  Mile.  Desirde  Cathe- 
rine D'Enville. 

DEATHS  ABROAD. 

In  France,  Capt.  Nesbit,  R.  N.,  son  of 
Viscountess  Nelson,  Duchess  of  Bronte. — • 
At  Tabreez,  Lieut.  Col.  Sir  John  Mac- 
donald  Kinnier,  British  Envoy  Extraordi- 
nary to  the  Court  of  Persia ;  the  court,  and 
the  inhabitants  of  Tabreez  have  determined 
to  wear  mourning  3  months,  as  a  mark  of 
respect  for  him. 


MONTHLY  PROVINCIAL  OCCURRENCES. 


NORTHUMBERLAND — The  First 
Anniversary  Meeting  of  the  Natural  His- 
tory Society  was  held  at  Newcastle,  Aug. 
3,  when  a  satisfactory  report  was  made  and 
ordered  to  be  printed  for  the  use  of  the 
members.— The  Botanical  and  Horticultu- 
ral Society's  anniversary  was  also  held, 
Aug.  12,  when  prizes  were  awarded  to  the 
successful  competitors.  At  the  dinner 
given  on  the  occasion,  about  40  members 
sat  down  to  table  ;  the  splendid  desert  con- 
sisted of  80  dishes  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
delicious  fruits  of  the  season,  supplied  by 
the  members. 

The  occurrence  of  another  of  those  dread- 
ful explosions  of  hydrogen  gas,  which  of 
late  years  have  been  so  destructive  of  human 
life  in  this  district,  calls  for  some  animad- 
version. This  lamentable  accident  took  place 
at  half-past  5  A.M.  Aug.  3,  in  the  Bensham 
Seam  of  Jarrow  Colliery,  when  forty-two  of 
our  fellow  creatures  were  instantaneously 
deprived  of  life,  thus  plunging  many  families 
into  the  deepest  affliction,  and  reducing 
them  to  misery  and  want.  The  witnesses 
on  the  Coroner's  Inquest  all  declare  no 
person  is  to  blame  for  this  calamity — it 
could  not  have  been  foreseen.  But  the 
most  material  fact  disclosed  in  the  evidence 
is,  that  candles  were  the  only  lights  used  in 
the  Colliery.  Why,  it  may  be  asked,  are 
candles  used,  after  the  discovery  of  the 
Safety  Lamp?  Are  they  entirely  free 


from  blame,  then,  who  suffered  such  lights 
to  be  used  ?  We  beg  to  recommend  that 
a  public  subscription  be  entered  into  imme- 
diately for  the  relief  of  the  relatives  of  those 
who  have  been  killed. — Tyne  Mercury. 

At  Newcastle  assizes  the  learned  judge 
congratulated  the  grand  jury  on  the  light- 
ness of  the  calendar,  there  being  only  2 
persons  for  trial,  and  both  for  the  same 
offence — At  the  county  assizes  5  prisoners 
received  sentence  of  death,  and  a  few  were 
transported  and  imprisoned. 

By  the  county  treasurer's  report  it  ap- 
pears that  the  expenses  for  last  year  (June 
30,  1829  to  July  1830,)  amounted  to. 
£7075  18s.,  above  half  of  which  was  devoted 
to  the  law. 

DURHAM.— At  these  assizes,  Lord 
Chief  Justice  Tindal  congratulated  the 
grand  jury  on  the  calendar  containing  a 
number  unusually  small;  1  prisoner  was- 
recorded  for  death,  1  transported,  and  a  few 
imprisoned. 

CUMBERLAND.  —  At  these  assizes 
there  were  only  6  prisoners  for  trial,  whose 
offences  were  not  of  a  very  serious  nature. 

LANCASHIRE — Meetings  were  held 
last  week  at  Bolton,  and  at  the  Star  Inn  in 
this  town,  to  consider  the  propriety  of  form- 
ing a  company  for  making  a  railway  between 
the  two  towns.  It  was  stated  at  the  meet- 


Lancashire,  Yorkshire,  Northamptonshire,  fyc.  [SEPT. 


Ings  that,  taking  a  line  between  the  present 
Bolton  and  Worsley  roads,  the  railway  would 
pass  no  fewer  than  23  coal  pits,  and  that  it 
would  bring  to  Manchester  150,000  tons  of 
coal  at  one-fourth  of  the  present  rate  of  car- 
riage ;  and  that  by  having  waggons  con- 
structed on  purpose,  the  carts  of  the  bleachers, 
spinners,  paper  makers,  and  others,  near  the 
line  of  road,  could  be  brought  without  un- 
loading. It  was  also  stated  that  the  number 
of  persons  passing  in  one  way  or  another  by 
the  14  daily  coaches,  by  the  boats,  on  foot, 
&c.  was  nearly  as  great  as  between  this  town 
and  Liverpool.  The  estimated  cost  of  the 
railway  is  £100,000,  of  which  £40,000  was 
subscribed  for  at  the  meeting,  and  the  whole 
would  have  been  svibscribed  for,  had  it  not 
been  deemed  advisable  to  hold  shares  for  the 
landholders,  manufacturers,  &c.  on  the  line 
of  road. — Manchester  Courier)  July  31. 

The  exhibition  of  pictures,  &c.  at  the 
Royal  Institution  at  Manchester  has  opened, 
and  we  consider  it  (says  the  Manchester 
Courier)  as  decidedly  the  most  splendid  of 
any  which  has  yet  been  witnessed  in  this 
place ;  a  third  room  has  been  completed, 
and  filled  with  part  of  the  pictures,  and  the 
front  of  the  building  is  now  completed,  and 
a  neat  iron  railing  has  been  erected  round  it. 
Casts  from  the  Elgin  marbles  have  been 
arranged  round  the  entrance  hall. 

We  have  at  present  great  satisfaction  in 
saying  that  we  scarcely  ever  remember  the 
trade  of  this  town  and  neighbourhood  gene- 
rally to  have  been  in  a  more  healthy  and 
satisfactory  state  than,  by  common  consent, 
it  is  admitted  to  be  at  this  time. — Man- 
chester Paper. 

A  public  meeting  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Liverpool  was  held  in  the  Music-hall,  14th 
August,  "  to  take  into  consideration  the 
best  mode  of  expressing  their  admiration  of 
the  independent  and  heroic  spirit  of  the 
People  of  Paris,  as  recently  displayed  in 
their  resistance  to  the  infringement  of  their 
Constitutional  Rights,  and  to  manifest  their 
sympathy  with  the  survivors  for  the  loss  of 
those  distinguished  Patriots  who  fell  in  the 
glorious  struggle,"  when  several  resolutions 
were  passed,  and  a  subscription  entered  into 
amounting  to  upwards  of  £500. 

YORKSHIRE — A  public  meeting  has 
been  recently  held  at  Elland  for  the  purpose 
of  taking  into  consideration  the  propriety  of 
forming  a  Political  Union,  when  various 
resolutions  were  passed  unanimously,  "for 
the  attainment  and  maintenance  of  lost  con- 
stitutional rights,  for  a  union  of  all  classes 
of  society,  after  the  model  of  the  Birming- 
ham Union."  The  tri-coloured  flag  was 
hoisted,  preceded  by  a  band  of  music  in 
procession  ;  about  1,500  persons  attended. 

NORTHAMPTON By   the  abstract 

account  of  the  county  expenses  for  last 
year,  made  up  to  Easter  sessions,  it  appears 
that  it  amounted  to  £7,968.  17s.  6d.  For 
county  bridges  and  miscellanies  about  £1,000 
was  required;  the  rest  was  expended  for 


vagrants,  felons,  prosecutions,  debtors,  gaol, 
judges'  house,  county-hall,  coroners,  and 
Bridewell. 

A  society  called  "  the  Northampton  Pa- 
triotic Union,"  was  instituted  August  II, 
for  the  purpose  of  preserving  the  freedom 
and  independence  of  the  borough  from  all 
corrupt  influence  in  the  election  of  mem- 
bers to  represent  that  town  in  parliament, 
and  to  secure  the  return  of  such  patriotic 
men  i\ho  will  support  parliamentary  re- 
form, a  reduction  of  taxation,  and  an  econo- 
mical expenditure  of  the  public  money, 
&c.  &c. 

WORCESTERSHIRE.— At  these  as- 
sizes 10  prisoners  received  sentence  of  death, 
4  transported,  and  a  few  were  imprisoned. 

WARWICKSHIRE A.t  the  county 

assizes  16  prisoners  were  recorded  for  death ; 
18  were  transported,  and  22  imprisoned  for 
various  periods. 

HEREFORDSHIRE At  these  assizes 

10  prisoners  were  recorded  for  death,  one 
was  transported,  and  several  imprisoned. 

SOMERSETSHIRE Twenty-one  pri, 

soners  were  recorded  for  death  at  these 
assizes;  8  were  transported,  and  10  im- 
prisoned for  various  periods. 

In  congratulating  his  present  Majesty  on 
his  accession  J;o  the  throne,  the  address  from 
the  Bath  and  West  of  England  Agricul- 
tural Society,  says — "  We  rest  with  pride 
and  confidence  under  the  protection  of  a 
Sovereign  who,  for  13  years,  has  been  at  the 
head  of  the  noble  Vice-Patrons  of  our  society, 
and  who,  in  noticing  the  labours  of  one  of  our 
late  Vice-Presidents,  has  condescended  to 
express  himself  in  these  memorable  terms : 
4  I  know,  and  therefore  esteem  him,  and 
accept  with  pleasure  the  Cloth  he  is  kind 
enough  to  send ;  I  shall  have  it  made  into 
the  Naval  Uniform,  as  being  the  gift  of  an 
English  farmer,  following  the  example  of 
the  King  of  Great  Britain,  who  first  intro- 
duced the  Merino  breed  of  sheep  into  these 
kingdoms.'  " 

HANTS — A  new  line  of  road  is  just 
completed,  leading  from  Wickham  to 
Droxford,  through  a  space  of  the  King's 
Liberty,  in  the  Forest  of  Bere,  which 
shortens  the  distance  about  one  mile  in 
five,  and  avoids  three  very  unpleasant,  not 
to  say  dangerous  hills,  and  which  will  be 
extremely  pleasant  when  it  has  been  a  little 
time  travelled  upon. 

NORFOLK — Five  prisoners  were  re, 
corded  for  death  at  these  assizes,  and  4 
transported. 

Last  Monday,  previous  to  submitting 
their  24th  exhibition  to  public  inspection, 
the  society  received  the  mayor,  aldermen, 
sheriffs,  and  other  gentlemen,  to  a  private 
view  of  the  paintings,  drawings,  and  en- 
gravings, at  their  New  Gallery,  Norwich. 
On  this  occasion  thanks  were  given  for  the 
donation  voted  last  year  to  the  institution. 


1830.]          Lincolnshire,  Sussex,  Wilts,  Huntingdonshire,  fyc. 


by  a  general  assembly  of  the  corporation. — 
The  Horticultural  Show  at  the  Corn  Ex- 
change,  on  Wednesday  last,  attracted  a 
very  numerous  attendance  of  members  and 
visitors.  Near  the  centre  of  the  room  was 
suspended  a  magnificent  cluster  of  black 
Hamburgh  grapes  (surmounted  by  leaves 
and  tendrils),  composed  of  upwards  of  60 
bunches,  and  weighing  5  st.  7  Ibs.  They 
were  sent  by  R.  Crayshaw,  Esq.,  Honing, 
ham. — Norfolk  Chronicle,  Aug.  7. 

LINCOLNSHIRE — A  numerousmeet- 
ing  of  the  inhabitants  of  Stamford  was  held 
July  28,  to  consider  the  propriety  of  forming 
an  Association  "  to  protect  the  free  and 
unbiassed  exercise  of  the  Elective  Franchise 
in  that  town,  to  repress  all  undue  and  illegal 
influence,  to  keep  harmless  and  indemnified 
every  Elector  from  any  injurious  consequence 
that  may  arise  from  his  votes  upon  the  en- 
suing and  every  succeeding  election,  and  to 
secure  the  purity  of  representation  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  and  constitution  of  this 
country,"  when  several  resolutions  were 
passed,  and  a  subscription  entered  into  for 
the  above  purpose.  One  of  the  resolutions 
specifies  that  the  association  shall  have 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  any  party,  can- 
didate, or  colour,  but  shall  be  open  to  all 
parties. 

SUSSEX — LordTenterden  in  his  charge 
to  the  grand  jury  at  the  assizes  for  this 
county  (held  at  Lewes),  regretted  to  see  such 
a  number  of  prisoners  in  the  calendar  ;  and 
well  he  might,  for  no  less  than  29  were  re- 
corded  for  death,  besides  a  few  transported, 
and  some  imprisoned. 

WILTS — Twenty-two  prisoners  were 
recorded  for  death  at  these  assizes,  and  a 
few  transported  and  imprisoned. 

HUNTINGDONSHIRE At    these 

assizes  there  was  neither  prisoner  nor  law 
cause  for  trial. 

SHROPSHIRE — Judgment  of  death 
was  recorded  at  these  assizes  on  21  prisoners. 
The  sentence  on  Chetwood,  for  sacrilege  in 
Condover  church,  was  commuted  into  trans- 
portation for  life ;  he  had  been  tried  six 
times  before  for  various  offences. 

DERBYSHIRE.  —  Nine  prisoners  re- 
ceived sentence  of  death  at  these  assizes,  a 
few  were  transported  and  imprisoned. 

A  society  of  quite  a  new  description  has 
of  late  sprung  up  in  Mellor ;  it  is  called 
"  The  Hen-peck'd  Club,"  the  members 
lately  held  their  first  annual  meeting,  and 
had  a  procession  which  beggars  all  descrip- 
tion. It  consisted  of  a  fellow  riding  upon 
an  ass  with  a  child's  red-flannel  night-cap 
hung  over  his  shoulders,  accompanied  by 
another  in  woman's  attire,  surrounded  by  a 
noisy  motley  crew  of  his  fellows,  bearing 
women's  shawls  tied  to  mop  sticks  for 
flags,  others  carrying  mops,  besoms,  mai- 
dens, dollies,  frying  pans,  &c.  &c.,  attired 
in  the  most  ridiculous  way,  and  accompa- 


367 

nied  by  the  Mellor  band.  At  certain 
places  on  their  route  they  halted  and  read 
aloud  a  declaration,  setting  forth  the  dis- 
abilities under  which  the  members  laboured, 
not  omitting  to  visit  every  ale-house  on 
their  route  to  try  the  dregs  of  their  weak 
ale  barrels.  This  society  is  composed  of 
married  men  of  all  ages  and  descriptions  ; 
and  any  unfortunate  wight  in  the  wedded 
state  who  is  under  the  sway  of  petticoat 
government,  or  conceives  himself  to  be  in 
such  a  hapless  case,  is  qualified  to  become 
a  member.  Although  the  village  of  Mellor 
is  not  an  exceedingly  populous  place,  yet 
the  members  who  walked  in  the  procession 
were  numerous. 

A  Self-supporting  Charitable  and  Paro- 
chial Dispensary  was  established  at  Derby, 
Aug.  8;  the  meeting  was  held  in  the 
Town-hall,  the  Mayor  in  the  chair ;  letters 
were  read  from  some  of  the  leading  gentle- 
men of  the  county,  approving  the  plan, 
and  offering  their  subscriptions  and  pa- 
tronage. 

DEVONSHIRE — Nine  prisoners  were 
recorded  for  death  at  these  county  assizes, 
3  transported,  and  12  imprisoned  for  various 
periods. 

A  special  court  of  the  Guardians  of  the 
Poor  was  held  last  Monday  at  the  Guildhall, 
to  receive  and  determine  on  a  Memorial 
from  some  of  the  Payers,  relating  to  open 
courts ;  and  it  was  moved,  "  That  the  courts 
of  the  Corporation  of  the  Poor  be  on  all  oc- 
casions open  to  the  public."  A  long  dis- 
cussion ensued,  when  it  was  resolved,  by  a 
majority  of  20  Guardians  to  5,  tf  That  this 
court  is  of  opinion  this  body  can  more  con-, 
veniently  and  more  effectually  discharge 
their  duties  to  their  constituents,  by  adhering 
to  the  usual  mode  of  transacting  business, 
than  by  throwing  open  the  doors  of  the 
court."— Exeter  Alfred,  Aug.  10. 

The  eldest  son  of  the  Pacha  of  Egypt  is 
now  residing  at  DriscolTs  Clarence  Hotel, 
Southside-street,  Plymouth.  The  Prince  is 
a  fine  young  man,  about  30  years  of  age,  and 
understands  the  English  language  remark- 
ably well.  He  has  visited  almost  every 
place  in  England  and  Scotland.  He  intends 
to  return  to  Egypt  in  the  Turko-Egyptian 
ship  Kola,  Capt.  Prissick,  now  lying  in  the 
Sound.— Alfred. 

CORNWALL._Five  prisoners  received 
sentence  of  death  at  these  assizes,  and  a 
few  were  imprisoned,  and  one  transported. 

WALES.— Judgment  of  death  was  re- 
corded against  3  prisoners  at  Montgomery- 
shire great  sessions,  one  of  them  (William 
Tibbott,)  was  for  the  murder  of  his  father  : 
he  was  hanged,  Aug.  16,  and  a  person 
from  an  English  town  acted  as  executioner, 
it  being  impossible  to  find  any  one  in 
Wales  to  execute  this  office.  From 
mismanagement,  the  spectators  had  the 
horror  of  perceiving  that  the  knot  of  the 
cord  by  which  he  was  suspended  was 


368 


Provincial  Occurrences :  Scotland  and  Ireland. 


[SEPT. 


directly  under  the  culprit's  chin,  and  the 
wind-pipe  being  only  thereby  partially 
compressed,  the  wretched  man  was  left  to 
struggle  into  eternity  in  horribly  protracted 
agony,  for  full  18  minutes  ! 

SCOTLAND.— Aug.  20.  A  numerous 
meeting  (about  1000  persons,)  of  the  citizens 
of  Edinburgh  took  place  in  Stevenson's 
Hotel  to  commemorate  the  late  revolution 
in  France ;  the  Lord  Provost  presided, 
u  who  came,"  he  said,  "  as  chief  ma- 
gistrate to  express  publicly  that  opinion 
which  he  had  expressed  in  private  of  the 
moderation  evinced  by  the  French  people 
in  the  triumph  so  dearly  bought  by  them." 
Several  resolutions  were  unanimously  passed 
eulogizing  the  event ;  one  of  them  was  to 
communicate  their  approbation  to  the 
mayor,  municipality  and  people  of  Paris, 
others  restrained  them  from  making  any 
tender  of  pecuniary  aid,  by  the  conviction 
that  it  was  not  necessary. 

A  penny-a-head  subscription  has  been 
set  on  foot  in  this  city,  on  approved  Utili- 
tarian principles,  to  buy  caddis  and  ban- 
dages for  the  wounded  citizens  of  Paris. 
Flaming  placards  appear  on  every  street 
corner,  inviting  each  generous  -  hearted 
worthy  individual,  who  has  nothing  else  to 
do  with  his  money,  to  drop  a  penny  into 
the  freedom  fund.  Many  plain-going  folks 
think  it  would  be  rather  more  becoming  to 
give  their  superfluous  cash  to  our  own  In- 
firmary, than  to  a  French  hospital ;  and  as 
these  notions  happen  to  be  very  general,  the 
collection  of  Peter's  pence  is  progressing 
but  languidly. — Edinburgh  Evening  Post, 
Aug.  21. 

Burghead,  August  3 — The  fishing  con- 
tinues unprecedentedly  good  on  the  west 
coast  of  Caithness  and  towards  Cape  Wrath, 
many  boats  having  caught  more  than  their 
usual  take  for  the  whole  season.  Should 
the  weather  continue  good,  and  a.  proper 
supply  of  stock  be  brought  round,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  fishing  on  that  coast 
will  far  exceed  any  thing  hitherto  known — 
The  fifty-six  boats  fishing  here  have  caught 
from  1100  to  1200  crans,  on  an  average  of 
about  21  crans  per  boat,  since  the  com- 
mencement of  the  present  season,  which  is 
considered  by  the  curers  to  promise  a 
plentiful  fishing. — At  Lossiemouth  and  the 
different  creeks  eastward,  the  fishing  has 
been  eminently  successful. — On  the  31st 
ultimo,  an  average  was  taken  of  the  boats 
fishing  at  Findochty  and  Cullen,  and  it 
amounted  to  100  crans  per  boat,  a  take 
hitherto  unprecedented  at  so  early  a  period 
of  the  fishing  season. 

Summary  of  Religious  Belief  of  Persons 
above  Ten  Years  of  Age  in  Scotland,  1830. 
— Established  Church.  Belonging  to  Parish 
Churches,  Chapels  of  Ease,  and  Chapels  of 


Missionaries,  employed  in  the  Highlands 
and  Islands,  £00,000 — Presbyterian  Dis- 
senters. Reformed  Presbyterian  Synod,  or 
Cameronians — Secession  Church — Original 
Seceders — Original  Burgher  Seceders — and 
Relief  Body,  330,000.  —  Miscellaneous 
Sectaries.  Independents  and  Baptists  — 
Boreans  and  Grlassites — Swedenbourgians — 
New  Sectaries  with  no  distinct  title — Me- 
thodists and  Jews,  100,800 — Apostolic 
Churches.  Roman  Catholics,  100,000.— 
Episcopalians,  60,000. — Unitarians — those 
holding  Socinian  opinions  —  Pure  disbe- 
lievers, and  those  who  attend  no  place  of 
public  worship  of  any  description,  either 
from  want  of  seats,  or  want  of  will,  though 
generally  baptized  Christians,  and  of  Presby- 
terian lineage,  509,100 — Total  2,000,000. 

IRELAND — The  following  extract  of 
a  letter  from  Kanturk  appears  in  the  Cork 
Chronicle : — "  The  situation  of  the  town  is 
deplorable,  for  out  of  a  population  of  2,800 
souls,  of  which  the  town  alone  consists,  not 
less  than  1,200  are  entered  as  paupers  on 
the  books  of  the  relief  committee,  and  nearly 
one-third  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  country 
district  are  in  the  same  situation ;  not  far 
from  this,  persons  were  known  to  bleed  the 
cattle  for  the  purpose  of  subsisting  on  the 
blood,  and  entire  families  lived  for  weeks 
on  the  coarser  leaves  of  cabbage,  without 
any  other  aliment,  and  the  poor  creatures 
may  be  seen  with  sunken  eyes,  haggard  and 
emaciated  countenances,  the  hue  of  which 
almost  resembles  the  unwholesome  diet  on 
which  they  drag  out  a  miserable  existence." 

We  have  received  communications  from 
some  of  the  prisoners  confined  in  the  City 
Marshalsea,  complaining  of  the  severity  of 
their  sufferings  from  want  of  food,  and  even 
of  straw  for  bedding.  They  describe  them- 
selves as  starving,  and  labouring  under  all 
the  other  evils  which  their  destitute  con- 
dition in  confinement  at  this  season  can 
inflict.  Many  of  these  unfortunate  beings 
are  parents,  and  when  their  poor  children 
join  them  to  pass  the  night  in  their  wretched 
home,  as  many  as  40  individuals  are  often 
crowded  into  the  space  of  one  narrow  room  ! 
They  state  that  the  greater  number  of  them 
are  confined  for  the  amount  of  rent  they 
were  unable  to  pay  for  their  wretched  hovels, 
and  that  the  debts  of  many  are  not  greater 
than  2  or  3  shillings,  while  none  exceed 
£2  !  !  Here  is  a  state  of  misery  absolutely 
frightful — human  beingsflung  into  a  noxious 
prison  for  a  few  shillings,  without  means  of 
subsistence,  and  their  families  perishing  ! 
They  have  claimed  our  advocacy  with  the 
charitable  public,  and  we  state  the  facts 
laid  before  us  as  the  fittest  appeal  to  the 
compassion  and  services  of  the  merciful. — 
Dublin  Morning  Register,  Aug.  4. 


s  // 

•  ••£•>/ 


a*  L  ' 


IW  faked 


THE 

MONTHLY    MAGAZINE 

OF 

POLITICS,  LITERATURE,  AND  THE  BELLES  LETTRES. 
VOL.  X.]  OCTOBER,  1830.  [No.  58. 

THE  KING  OF  THE  FRENCH,  FRANCE,  WELLINGTON,    AND  EUROPE. 

FRANCE  now  attracts  the  universal  eye,  and  as  a  great  portion  of  her 
conduct  must  be  determined  by  the  character  of  her  chief,  the  history 
of  Louis  Philippe  has  a  peculiar  interest  at  the  present  time. 

Of  all  the  countries  of  Europe,  France  has  seldomest  seen  the  suc- 
cession to  her  throne  disturbed  by  war,  conspiracy,  or  the  influence  of 
foreign  powers.  Yet,  since  the  tenth  century  she  has  been  governed  by 
seven  dynasties :  the  Capet,  the  Valois,  the  Orleans  Valois,  the  Angou- 
leme,  the  Bourbon,  the  Napoleon,  and  the  Orleans ;  or  on  an  average, 
one  every  century. 

The  death  of  Louis  le  Faineant,  a  profligate  youth,  left  Hugh  Capet, 
who  had  been  appointed  his  guardian,  master  of  the  crown,  in  987- 
Charles,  Duke  of  Lorrain,  the  late  king's  uncle,  disputed  his  right ; 
but  Capet's  descent  from  Charlemagne,  and  his  own  intelligence,  mode- 
ration, and  virtue,  secured  the  affections  of  the  people.  His  dynasty 
governed  France  down  to  the  fourteenth  century,  when,  in  1328,  Charles 
the  Fourth,  named  the  Handsome,  died,  leaving  no  male  issue. 

The  Valois  branch  of  the  Capets  now  succeeded;  a  memorable  event 
in  French  history,  as  the  origin  of  those  dreadful  wars  with  England, 
which  devastated  France  for  almost  a  hundred  and  fifty  years.  The  right 
to  the  crown  was  claimed  by  Edward  the  Third,  in  virtue  of  his  descent 
by  the  female  line.  But  the  French  pleaded  the  Salique  law  against 
him,  and  the  nobles  chose  Philip,  the  son  of  Charles  de  Valois,  brother 
of  Philip  the  Fair,  and  uncle  of  Charles  the  Handsome.  In  Charles 
the  Eighth  the  line  failed,  in  1498. 

The  Orleans  branch  ascended  the  throne,  in  the  person  of  Louis, 
Duke  of  Orleans,  cousin  of  Louis  the  Eleventh.  He  married  a  sister 
of  the  English  Henry  the  Eighth.  In  speaking  of  those  various 
branches  as  dynasties,  of  course  we  have  not  taken  the  word  in  its 
general  sense,  of  a  long  succession  in  each,  but  merely  as  the  change  of  a 
direct  lineage. 

The  Angouleme  branch  succeeded  in  1515.  Francis,  Duke  cf 
Angouleme,  the  famous  Francis  the  First,  thd  rival  of  Charles  the 
Fifth  of  Germany,  ascending  the  throne,  by  the  death  of  Louis  the 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL,  X.  No.  58.  3  A 


370  The  King  of  the  French,  [Oc/r. 

Twelfth,  without  Isstie.  The  death  of  Henry  the  Third,  formerly 
Duke  of  Anjou>  and  King  of  Poland,  brother  of  Charles  the  Ninth, 
that  atrocious  author  of  the  massacre  of  St,  Bartholomew,  left  the 
crown  to  the  Bourbon  branch. 

In  1589,  Henry  Bourbon,  King  of  Navarre,  the  famous  Henry  the 
Fourth,  was  called  to  the  throne.  He  was  allied  to  the  Capets,  as  ninth 
in  descent  from  St.  Louis,  and  was  at  once  a  Valois  by  blood,  arid  a 
Bourbon  by  parentage.  The  death  of  the  unfortunate  Louis  the  Six- 
teenth on  the  scaffold,  in  1793,  left  France  without  a  monarch,  as  she 
had  left  herself  without  a  throne. 

In  1804,  Napoleon,  the  First  Consul,  was  made  Emperor,  and 
retained  his  sovereignty  till  1814,  when  he  abdicated  for  the  first  time, 
and  returning,  Was  finally  expelled  in  1815.  The  Bourbons  then 
returned.  The  fatal  ordonnances  of  the  27th  of  June,  1830,  overthrew 
them,  and  the  Orleans  branch  were  again  summoned  to  the  throne, 
(August  7th,)  by  the  general  acclamation  of  the  people,  and  the  sanc- 
tion of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies. 

The  History.of  the  late  Duke  of  Orleans,  the  father  of  the  King,  is 
one  of  warning  to  the  restlessness  and  folly  of  men  of  rank.  He  had 
fortune,  high  station,  and  extensive  popularity ;  he  had  even  personal 
acquirements  and  no  trivial  ability.  But  he  had  ambition  ;  a  giddy, 
reckless,  and  cruel  desire  of  being  the  first,  \vhere  nature,  fidelity,  and 
honour  would  have  kept  him  the  second.  Yet  it  is  remarkable  that  he 
lost  his  grand  prize,  the  throne,  by  want  of  vice  !  Personally  profligate, 
and  publicly  ready  for  all  excesses  of  politics  or  the  passions,  he 
was  not  prepared  to  exhibit  the  due  proportion  of  ferocity.  He  had 
not  made  up  his  mind  to  drink  blood,  and  roar  blasphemies  with  the 
true  men  of  the  revolution.  The  Marats  outran  him  in  frenzy,  the 
Dantons  in  blasphemy,  and  the  Robespierres  in  massacre.  Thus  left 
behind  in  the  popular  race  of  the  glorious  time  of  philosophy  and  the 
scaffold,  the  unfortunate  Duke  stood  a  solitary  and  forlorn  figure  for  the 
scoff  of  the  Republic-^-soon  to  be  its  victim.  The  old  question  of  who 
or  what  was  the  true  origin  of  that  tempest  of  horror  and  carnage,  is 
brought  to  decision  in  the  character  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans. — He  was 
the  ricliest  subject  in  France  :- — the  King  was  oppressed  with  financial 
perplexities.— He  was  at  the  head  of  all  the  intellectual  profligates  of 
France:  the  King  was  surrounded  only  by  the  court  imbeciles,  by 
feeble  adulators,  keen  enough  in  their  own  interests  to  keep  him  con- 
stantly iri  the  clouds,  whenever  the  public  interests  were  concerned,  but 
utterly  unfit  to  contend,  in  intelligence,  experience,  or  activity,  with 
the  World  of  France. — The  Duke  was  a  man  of  ability  ^  the  King  was, 
like  his  councillors,  imbecile,  though  not,  like  them,  dishonest;  and 
destitute  of  all  opportunities  to  learn  the  public  mind,  though  not,  like 
them,  unwilling.  With  all  those  advantages  oh  the  side  of  Orleans, 
advantages,  to  a  man  of  his  unprincipled  spirit,  galling  him  every  hour 
by  the  contrast,  he  had  a  personal  and  keener  source  of  resentment :  he 
felt  that  he  was  suspected  by  the  King,  and  hated  by  the  Queen. 

The  private  scandals  of  French  life  must  find  another  detail  than 
ours.  But  they  had  reached  a  dreadful  extent  in  the  time  of  the  old 
court  of  France.  The  Queen's  artless  manners  had  given  rise  to 
suspicions  of  more  than  levity,  and  in  the  infinite  idleness  of  Versailles, 
and  the  infinite  malice  of  Paris,  she  had  been  traduced  without  mercy. 
There  is  not  the  slightest  evidence  that  she  was  deserving  of  the  slightest 


1830.]  France,  Wellington,  and  Europe.  371 

of  those  rumours.  Her  ease  of  manner  arose  from  an  unstained  heart, 
her  familiarity  was  innocence,  and  her  open  ridicule  of  the  repulsive 
formality  of  court  etiquette,  the  natural  result  of  security  of  mind. 
But  it  is  hazardous  to  stand  in  opposition  to  the  customs  of  a  -whole 
country.  The  profligate  countesses,  to  whom  life  had  but  one  profligate 
purpose,  exclaimed  in  all  their  coteries  against  the  "  indecorums"  of  the 
Queen.  The  profligate  nobles  conceived  that  even  the  highest  rank  of 
female  life  was  no  more  guarded  by  virtue  than  that  of  the  brood  of 
painted  and  gambling  women  of  their  circle.  The  profligate  populace, 
always  rejoicing  at  the  opportunity  of  lowering  their  superiors  to  the 
level  of  their  own  vices,  rejoiced  at  the  probability  of  being  able  to 
stigmatize  the  Queen,  who  had  the  additional  unpopularity  of  being  an 
Austrian,  the  director  of  her  weak  husband,  and  the  true  and  known 
pillar  of  royalty  in  the  councils  of  France. 

Whether  the  duke  was  repulsed  in  his  politics  or  his  person — whether 
as  a  rebel  or  a  lover,  his  hatred  against  the  Queen  was  notorious  and 
irreconcilable.  The  Queen  repaid  him.  She  has  been  heard  to  say,  as 
he  walked  through  the  levee,  <(  Look  at  that  man's  countenance :  it 
carries  death  to  me." 

From  the  year  1787>  the  Duke  of  Orleans  had  placed  himself  in  the 
foremost  position  as  leader  of  the  anti-royal  party.  The  quarrels  of 
the  Parliament  of  Paris  with  the  Court,  had  compelled  the  King  to  do 
something  more  than  eat,  dream,  and  talk  to  his  confessor.  In  the 
famous  sitting  of  November,  1787,  Orleans  had  the  hardihood  to 
ask  the  King  whether  the  meeting  was  for  deliberating  on  the  state 
of  the  country,  or  merely  for  registering  the  royal  will  ?  Whether  it 
was  to  be  a  real  council,  or  simply  a  '  bed  of  justice?'  The  question 
was  bold ;  the  whole  assembly  of  courtiers  had  never  heard  such  a  souncl 
before ;  the  poor  King  was  all  astonishment,  and  the  duke  received 
the  reward  of  his  intrepidity,  in  a  ministerial  order  to  leave  Paris^ 
and  go  to  Villers  Coterets. 

But  what  duke  of  the  old  regime,  or  what  Frenchman,  of  any,  could 
bear  exile  from  Paris  ?  Orleans  solicited  his  recal,  and  even  solicited 
the  Queen  to  obtain  that  recal. 

On  the  8th  of  May,  when  the  Estates  of  the  Kingdom  met  in  the  Cathe-. 
dral  at  Notre  Dame,  the  duke  was  observed  to  desert  the  procession  of 
the  princes  of  the  blood  to  mingle  with  the  populace,  and  exhibited  by  his 
manner  a  sufficient  contempt  for  the  grave  mockery  of  the  ceremonial. 
The  amalgamation  of  the  Deputies  into  one  body,  the  National  Assembly, 
owed  much  of  its  success  to  the  duke,  and  his  speech  formidably 
widened  the  distance  between  him  and  the  royal  family.  A  remarkable 
contrast  to  the  King,  the  Court,,  and  the  People,  was,  that  while  they 
were  growing  poor,  the  Duke  was  growing  rich.  One  of  his  most 
reprobate  companions,  Louvet,  had  suggested  the  idea  of  throwing  the 
greater  part  of  his  palace  into  shops.  The  Palais  Royal  was  instantly 
an  enormous  revenue,  and  he  had  soon  money  enough  to  blind  one  half 
of  Paris,  and  to  bribe  the  other. 

The  plot  now  began  to  thicken.  <e  The  Jacobin  Club,"  damned  to, 
everlasting  fame,  were  the  duke's  partizans,  purchased,  doubtless,  by 
the  duke's  gold.  The  crown  was  visibly  slipping  off  the  head  of  the. 
unfortunate  I^ouis.  The  Jacobins  were  ready  to  put  it  on  the  head  of' 
their  master.  But  his  distinctions  were  to  be  of  another  kind.  He 
was  sent  by  the  King  into  exile,  on  pretence  of  a  mission 

3  A  2 


372  The  King  of  the  French,  [Ocx. 

On  his  return,  he  found  that  his  chance  was  at  an  end.  The  Jacobin?- 
had  made  up  their  minds — "  There  was  to  be  no  king  in  France."  The 
duke  was  expelled  from  Versailles ;  and  from  that  moment  he  threw  off 
the  mask,  if  he  had  ever  worn  one. 

The  infamous  Oth  of  October,  1792,  came,  and  the  King,  Queen, 
and  the  royal  children,  were  dragged  to  Paris  by  a  mob,  who  paraded 
the  heads  of  the  gardes  du  corps  before  the  royal  carriage,  on  pikes. 
This  was  the  day  that  stamped  Lafayette  for  life.  While  he  lives,  it 
will  never  be  forgotten  that  "  he  sse-pt  on  the  (5th  of  October."  He  was 
commander  of  the  National  Guard,  of  forty  thousand  men.  At  the 
head  of  this  force,  he  ought  to  have  stopped  the  mob  of  Paris  from 
going  to  Versailles  to  insult  the  Constitutional  King.  He  did  no  such 
thing.  This  band  of  blood,  drunkenness,  and  robbery,  got  the  start 
of  him  by  six  hours.  He  then  followed  them,  to  rescue  the  King. 
Lafayette  arrived,  and  fortunately  found  that  nothing  had  yet  been 
done.  The  National  Guard  were  quartered  round  the  palace.  Lafayette 
had  an  audience  of  the  King,  and  solemnly  assured  him  that  he  might 
retire  to  rest  with  the  utmost  security ;  he  would  answer  for  it,  and  would 
guarantee  the  royal  family  against  any  attack  by  the  mob.  On  this 
assurance  the  King  ordered  the  exterior  posts  of  the  palace  to  be  given 
up  to  the  National  Guard,  and  went  to  sleep.  Lafayette  went  to  sleep 
too  !  and  slept  so  soundly,  that  he  slept  till  the  mob  had  burst  their  way 
into  the  royal  chambers,  gutted  the  palace,  stabbed  the  gardes-du-corps, 
and  taken  the  unfortunate  monarch  prisoner,  to  take  him  as  a  felon  to 
Paris.  Then  Lafayette  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  National  Guard 
again,  and  again  followed  the  mob.  All  this  might  have  been  mere  neg- 
ligence or  folly,  but  it  was  singularly  disastrous  in  the  end.  So  much 
for  the  Patriot  who  is  now  to  watch  over  the  pillow  of  Louis  Philippe. 

Titles  were  next  extinguished,  and  the  proud  name  of  Orleans  was 
sunk  in  the  popular  one  of  Egalitc.  Citizen  Equality  was  now  a 
plebeian  like  the  rest,  the  fellow  of  the  citizen  tinker  and  the  citizen 
cobbler.  His  rabble  compeers  soon  gave  him  a  lesson  in  the  rights 
of  man.  His  estates  followed  his  titles.  Some  of  his  family  fled,  and 
were  glad  to  fly.  His  son  entered  the  Revolutionary  army.  His  own 
life  was  in  perpetual  hazard.  On  the  21st  of  January,  1793,  Louis 
the  Sixteenth  was  murdered  on  the  scaffold.  The  Duke  of  Orleans  had 
voted  for  his  death ;  and  even  in  that  band  of  blood,  the  vote  caused 
an  universal  shudder.  He  was  utterly  undone  from  that  hour.  No 
man's  career  ever  gave  a  more  striking  example  of  the  miseries  of  guilty 
ambition.  The  Nobles  hated  him,  as  the  betrayer  of  their  order,  the 
Church  as  the  patron  of  their  confiscation,  the  King's  friends  as  his 
unnatural  enemy,  the  People  as  a  remnant  of  the  aristocracy  on  which 
they  rejoiced  to  trample.  To  save  himself  in  this  general  repulsion,  he 
had  plunged  into  fatal  intrigue  with  the  Jacobins  ;  that  troop  of  assassins 
which  seemed  congregated  for  the  scourge  of  France,  and  the  abhor- 
rence  of  human  nature.  They  received  him  in  triumph,  kept  him  as  a 
tool,  and  then  cast  him  off  as  a  victim.  Robespierre,  who  mastered  all 
his  rivals  by  a  supremacy  in  bloodshed,  marked  him  for  the  scaffold. 

The  malice  of  the  master-fiend  turned  even  his  sacrifices  and  services 
against  this  miserable  man. — "  He  has  two  sons  in  our  army  in  Belgium  ; 
his  influence  is  therefore  dangerous.  He  has  friends  among  our  generals 
— he  must  be  watched.  He  has  called  himself  Egalite — he  cannot  be 
sincere,  he  must  wish  to  be  a  duke  again  ;  his  hypocrisy  must  be 


1830.]  France,  Wellington,  and  Europe.  •    373 

punished.  He  has  given  up  large  sums  to  forward  the  Revolution.  It 
must  have  been  with  the  idea  of  ascending  a  new  throne.  The  Republic 
allows  of  no  throne.  He  must  be  extinguished."  The  reasoning  was 
irresistible,  and  the  proud  Philip  of  Orleans  was  cast  into  the  dungeons 
of  Marseilles.  Trial  rapidly  followed  ;  he  was  found  guilty  ;  and  the 
justice  which  he  had  eluded  during  a  long  career,  at  length  overtook 
him  at  the  hands  of  a  tribunal  of  assassins.  He  died  firmly,  as  became 
a  man  of  high  name,  and  still  retaining  the  single  virtue  that  saves  the 
criminal  from  utter  contempt.  The  populace,  for  whose  plaudits  he  had 
sacrificed  all  things,  rewarded  him  by  scoffs  and  hisses  on  his  way  to 
the  scaffold.  "  They  will  applaud  me  yet,"  said  he,  with  a  sudden  sense 
of  the  giddiness  of  popular  opinion.  Yet  he  was  mistaken.  No  man  has 
since  applauded  him.  He  has  been  left  in  the  neglect  due  to  his  crimes. 
No  hand  has  planted  the  laurel,  nor  even  the  cypress,  on  his  grave. 

Louis-Philippe,  the  present  King  of  the  French,  was  born  on  the  6th 
of  October  1773,  in  the  Palais  Royal,  eldest  son  of  the  late  Duke,  and 
of  Louisa  Maria  Adelaide,  daughter  of  the  Due  de  Bourbon  Penthievre, 
Admiral  of  France.  In  infancy  his  title  was  Due  de  Valois,  but  in 
1782  he  assumed  that  of  Due  de  Chartres,  on  the  death  of  his  grand- 
father, the  Duke  of  Orleans,  from  whom  he  had  been  called,  his  father's 
name  being  Louis  Philippe  Joseph.  He  had  two  brothers,  the  Due  de 
Montpensier,  and  the  Comte  de  Beaujolais,  who  both  died  of  consump- 
tion about  twenty  years  ago,  and  one  sister,  Adelaide  Eugene  Louisa, 
Princess  of  Orleans,  born  in  1777- 

The  education  of  the  Orleans  family  was  for  many  years  in  the  hands 
of  Madame  de  Genlis,  well  known  for  her  novels,  her  tracts  on  educa- 
tion, her  scribbling  at  the  age  of  eighty,  and  her  figuring  in  the  scan- 
dalous chronicle  of  Paris.  Her  system  of  education  was  founded  on 
the  fanciful  absurdities  of  Rousseau,  and  the  young  Duke  was  to  be  the 
Emilius.  A  large  part  of  this  was  foolish,  but  some  was  practical,  and 
all  was  better  than  the  wretched  system  of  flattery,  indolence  and  vice, 
in  which  the  children  of  the  French  nobles  were  generally  brought  up. 
De  Genlis  removed  the  Orleans  children  from  the  pestilent  habits  of 
Paris  to  the  country,  and  there  gave  them  the  exercise,  and  in  a  consi- 
derable degree  the  habits  and  pursuits  of  the  peasantry.  The  boys 
were  taught  to  live  on  simple  food,  to  run,  swim,  even  to  climb  trees, 
and  walk  on  poles,  for  the  purpose  of  accustoming  them  to  help  them- 
selves in  any  case  of  personal  hazard.  The  results  were,  health, 
handsome  proportions  and  activity;  but  the  Countess  taught  them 
more,  for  in  her  ideas  of  life  she  mingled,  like  all  fools  of  both  sexes, 
the  glories  of  political  bustle,  and  she  took  the  children  to  see  the  fall  of 
the  Bastile.  Doubtless  every  man  of  common  sense  on  earth  must  have 
rejoiced  at  the  fall  of  an  infernal  prison,  in  which  the  caprice  of  a  mi- 
nister, or  the  mistress  of  a  minister,  or  of  a  clerk  in  office,  or  the  mistress 
of  a  clerk  in  office,  might  shut  up  the  most  innocent  man  for  life.  The 
Bastile  could  not  exist  in  any  country  without  degrading  the  very  na- 
ture of  man,  and  making  every  individual,  writer  or  not  writer,  tremble 
for  every  syllable  he  uttered.  Still  it  was  a  piece  of  indecorum  and 
insolence  in  the  governess  of  infants  to  lead  them  to  a  spectacle,  which 
to  their  minds  could  be  only  one  of  riot  and  butchery,  and  which  was 
at  the  moment  a  direct  triumph  over  the  unfortunate  king  and  relative 
of  their  father.  The  truth  was,  Madame  volunteered  revolutionary  dis- 
plays for  the  honour  of  her  friendsh ip  with  M.  le  Due. 


374  The  King  of  the  French,  [OCT. 

But  one  display  that  took  place  the  year  before  was  exempt  from  those 
charges.  In  the  French  convents,  as  in  all  places  under  the  uncontrolled 
dominion  of  the  popish  priesthood,  horrible  cruelties  were  practised;  some- 
times on  monks  and  nuns  who  happened  naturally  to  get  weary  of  their 
condition,  or  disgusted  with  the  cold  cruelty  of  their  superiors ;  sometimes 
protestants  given  over  to  the  hands  of  those  horrid  persecutors,  and 
sometimes  on  state  prisoners — unfortunate  beings  who  had,  for  something 
or  for  nothing,  excited  the  suspicion  of  some  tyrant  governor  of  the  pro- 
vince, or  some  scoundrel  courtier,  or  some  licentious  prince.  The  convent 
prisons  answered  the  double  purpose  of  paying  a  compliment  to  the 
monks,  saving  the  government  the  trouble  of  keeping  those  wretched 
people  in  charge,  and  securing  them  till  a  miserable  death  ended  their 
sufferings ;  for  no  prison  was  so  secure  or  so  secret  as  the  vault  of  a  con- 
vent. St.  Michael,  in  Normandy,  was  one  of  those  pious  safeguards ; 
and  there  was  in  the  bottom  of  one  of  its  caverns,  a  place  of  peculiar 
confinement  for  unfortunates  whose  crimes  were  obnoxious  to  tne  tastes 
of  royalty.  Writers  were  especially  criminal  in  the  eyes  of  the  French 
kings  and  courtiers,  and  one  of  the  tenants  of  this  dungeon  was  the 
publisher  of  a  Dutch  gazette ;  who,  owing  no  allegiance  to  Louis  XIV., 
and  probably  feeling  no  more  admiration  than  the  royal  libertine's  sub- 
jects for  him,  had  excited  his  displeasure  by  some  remarks  in  his  paper. 
The  publisher  was  laid  hold  on,  hurried  off  to  the  St.  Michael,  and  in 
the  iron  cage  of  this  horrible  dungeon  he  lay  for  fifteen  years !  Well 
may  Englishmen  bless  the  tongues  and  swords  that  rescued  them  from 
tender  mercies  like  this  !  Well  may  they  look  with  jealousy  and  indig- 
nation on  all  attempts  to  bring  them  to  a  condition  like  this,  and  well 
may  they  deserve  it  if  they  suffer  the  slightest  inroad  on  the  Press, 
which  is,  after  all,  the  only  sure  guardian  of  their  liberty,— surer  and  safer 
than  all  the  formal  guards  of  laws,  which  may  be  abrogated  in  an  hour ; 
of  a  legislature  which  may  be  corrupted  ;  or  of  a  cabinet  which  may  dread 
the  light,  for  the  old  reason,  of  the  darkness  of  its  deeds  !  The  French 
ministers  knew  what  was  the  friend  of  freedom  and  the  foe  of  tyranny, 
and  they  fastened  all  the  fangs  and  claws  of  power  upon  the  Press. 
Nations  have  the  example — let  them  be  wise  by  the  warning. 

In  the  first  efforts  of  the  French  Revolution,  the  public  mind  was 
turned  on  what  had  been  its  especial  horror  for  so  many  centuries,  and 
the  secrets  of  those  dreadful  places  were  dragged  to  light.  Among 
the  rest,  the  Norman  peasantry  insisted  on  relieving  the  monks  of 
St.  Michael  of  the  honour  of  being  prison-keepers  to  the  king  ;  and 
the  dungeon  was  thrown  open  for  public  inspection.  Louis  XVI.  was 
a  mild  tempered  creature,  and  the  fashion  at  court  was  astonishment  at 
the  thickness  of  prison  walls,  the  damp  of  dungeons,  and  the  rusty  solidity 
of  bolts  and  bars.  The  prisons  became  a  sort  of  public  curiosity  ;  and 
among  the  rest,  St.  Michael  was  visited  by  the  Count  D'Artois,  who 
was  electrified  at  the  sight  of  the  iron  cage!  gave  a  general  command 
for  its  demolition,  rode  off,  and  left  it  as  he  found  it.  But  it  seems  as  if 
fate  had  determined  that  the  Duke  of  Orleans  should  always  finish  what 
Charles  X.  left  undone.  The  young  eleve  of  Madame  de  Genlis  not 
merely  commanded  its  destruction,  but  stood  by  till  it  was  completed. 
The  narrative  of  this  transaction,  which  wras  the  parent  of  the  fall  of 
the  Bastile,  is  interesting. 

"  The  Prior,  followed  by  the  monks,  two  carpenters,  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  prisoners,  who,  at  our  request,  were  allowed  to  be  present, 


1830.]  France,  Wellington,  and  Europe.  375 

accompanied  us  to  the  spot  containing  this  horrible  cage.  In  order  to 
reach  it,  we  were  -. obliged  to  traverse  caverns  so  dark,  that  we  had  to 
use  lighted  flambeaux  ;  and  after  having  descended  many  steps,  we 
reached  the  cavern  where  stood  this  abominable  cage,  which  was 
extremely  small,  and  placed  on  ground  so  damp,  that  rve  could  see  the 
water  running  under  it ! 

"  I  entered  with  a  sentiment  of  horror  and  indignation,  mingled  with 
the  pleasant  feeling,  that,  at  least,  thanks  to  my  pupils,  no  unfortunate 
person  would  in  future  have  to  reflect  with  bitterness  within  its  walls 
on  his  own  calamities,  and  the  cruelty  of  men.  The  young  duke, 
with  the  most  touching  expression,  and  with  a  force  beyond  his  years, 
gave  the  first  blow  with  his  axe  to  the  cage  (which  was  of  wood, 
strongly  bound  with  iron).  After  which  the  carpenters  cut  down  the 
door,  and  removed  some  of  the  wood.  I  never  witnessed  any  thing  so 
interesting  as  the  transports,  the  acclamations,  and  the  applauses  of  the 
prisoners  during  the  demolition.  The  old  Swiss  porter  alone  shewed 
signs  of  grief,  which  the  prior  explained,  by  saying  he  regretted  the 
cage,  because  he  made  money  by  shewing  it  to  strangers.  The  duke 
immediately  gave  him  ten  louis ;  saying,  that  '  for  the  future,  instead 
of  shewing  the  cage  to  travellers,  he  should  have  to  point  out  the 
place  where  it  stood,  and  that  surely  would  be  more  agreeable  to 
them/  "  So  says  Madame  de  Genlis,  and  the  anecdote  does  credit  to  the 
feelings  and  the  understanding  of  her  clever  pupil. 

There  are  also  some  traits  of  good  feeling  told  of  him  at  subse- 
quent periods.  When  the  decree  of  the  National  Assembly  put  an 
end  to  the  privileges  of  eldership,  the  little  Due  de  Chartres  turned 
round  to  his  brother  Montpensier,  and  declared  "  his  delight  that  there 
would  be  no  longer  any  distinction  between  them."  This  was  French, 
and,  besides,  argued  rather  too  keen  a  sense  of  his  previous  superiority. 
But  the  next  anecdote  is  of  the  country  of  every  honest  and  high- 
minded  man.  At  the  age  of  seventeen  he  was  sent  for  to  Paris  by  his 
father,  and  an  establishment  was  given  to  him.  His  time  of  life  was 
a  tempting  one,  and  Paris  was  a  tempting  place,  for  such  a  time.  But 
the  boy  felt  that  he  had  still  something  to  learn,  and  he  still  made 
regular  visits,  as  a  pupil,  to  the  family  school  in  the  country.  He,  yet 
more  to  his  honour,  made  the  resolution  of  laying  by  his  pocket- 
money  till  he  was  of  age,  and  appropriating  it  to  charitable  and  public 
purposes. 

The  Due  de  Chartres  was  now  to  mingle  in  the  stirring  life  of  the 
world.  The  Jacobins  were  the  chief  partizans  of  his  father,  and  by  that 
father's  command  he  became  a  member  of  the  Jacobin  Club.  But  he 
was  happily  called  from  the  contact  of  those  blasphemers  and  murderers 
to  scenes  where  his  virtues  would  not  be  so  hazardous  to  himself.  In 
1790  he  was  sent  to  join  his  regiment  quartered  in  Vendome.  He  found 
the  populace  slaying  the  priests,  and  his  first  exploit  was  to  save  one 
of  those  unfortunate  men  ;  his  next  was  to  jump  into  the  river  to  rescue 
a  custom-house  officer  from  drowning.  His  activity  could  not  have 
exercised  itself  on  two  more  obnoxious  classes.  For  the  priest  he  got 
nothing,  but  the  city  of  Vendome  gave  him  a  civic  crown  for  the 
exciseman ! 

In  1792,  France  offered  the  finest  lesson  ever  given  to  the  world  of  a 
nation  trained  from  its  cradle  by  Popery  and  its  perpetual  associate 
Despotism  !  It  was  all  in  a  blaze.  Its  only  creed  an  abolition  of  all 


The  King  of  the  French,  [Ocx. 

belief  in  a  soul,  in  the  principles  of  truth,  honour,  or  morality,  or  in  a  God ; 
its  only  law  the  will  of  a  populace  of  cut- throats  inured  to  make  confessions 
once  a  quarter,  and  receive  absolution  as  often,  let  the  iniquity  be  what 
it  might,  the  simple  condition  being  the  amount  of  the  fee  ;  and  its 
only  freedom  the  liberty  to  murder  every  body,  and  be  murdered  in  their 
turn : — the  delight  of  the  legislature  and  the  populace  alike  being  the 
general  clearance  of  the  prisons,  the  streets,  and  the  houses  by  the  pike, 
the  grapeshot,  and  the  guillotine ;  France  declaring  herself  at  war  with 
all  the  world,  all  the  world  compelled  to  war  with  France ;  every  day  a 
massacre  in  Paris,  or  in  the  provinces,  a  battle  on  the  frontier,  or  a  new 
burst  of  horrible  retaliatory  rage  in  La  Vendee ;  The  whole  aspect  of 
that  immense  country  one  cloud  of  conflagration  and  slaughter ;  France 
bleeding  at  every  pore. 

The  Due  de  Chartres  served  his  first  campaign  under  Biron  in  1792, 
in  the  army  of  the  north,  where  he  was  in  several  general  actions,  and 
commanded  a  brigade  of  cavalry.  Under  Luckner  and  Dumouriez  he 
fought  against  the  Prussian  invasion,  and  on  the  famous  6th  of  Novem- 
ber, 1 702,  the  day  of  Gemappe,  he  is  said  to  have  decided  the  battle. 
The  French  had  found  the  Austrian  army  strongly  intrenched  on  the 
heights  of  Gemappe.  But  he,  as  Dumouriez  afterwards  declared,  had  no 
alternative  but  to  attack  them,  for  he  had  no  bread ;  and  he  gave  one  of 
his  columns  to  the  Due  de  Chartres,  who  rushed  upon  the  lines.  The 
Austrians  repulsed  the  first  charge,  and  drove  back  the  column, 
which  had  led  the  centre  attack.  Dumouriez  thought  that  all  was  lost, 
and  was  galloping  across  the  field  to  recover  the  day  if  possible,  when 
he  met  an  aide-de-camp  sent  to  give  him  the  news  of  victory.  The 
Due  de  Chartres  had  rallied  his  young  troops,  put  himself  at  the 
head  of  a  regiment,  and  rushing  forward,  burst  into  the  Austrian  lines. 
All  was  now  rout ;  the  charge  decided  the  battle,  and  the  battle  decided 
the  fate  of  the  Austrian  dominion  in  Flanders.  The  enemy  lost  upwards 
of  six  thousand  in  killed,  wounded,  and  prisoners,  and  Dumouriez  in- 
instantly  overran  the  whole  of  Belgium. 

But  Dumouriez,  that  fortunate  and  extraordinary  soldier,  who  first 
taught  the  French  Republican  how  to  fight,  and  whose  genius  was  the 
only  one  that  might  have  anticipated  the  splendour  of  Napoleon's 
triumphs,  was  soon  forced  to  acknowledge  the  uncertainty  of  military 
fortune.  In  February  1 793,  at  the  battle  of  Nerwinde,  he  was  utterly 
defeated.  With  the  Republic,  misfortune  was  always  a  crime,  and  the 
general  was  summoned  to  Paris  to  give  an  account  of  himself.  This 
was  notoriously  but  a  summons  to  have  his  head  cut  off.  He  knew  the 
world,  and  he  contrived  to  elude  the  command  ;  while  he  revolved 
the  idea  of  overthrowing  his  masters  in  their  turn.  He  was  said  to  have 
then  conceived  the  idea  of  placing  the  Due  de  Chartres  on  the  throne. 
But  he  found  that  his  army  would  not  follow  him.  Commissioners 
from  Paris  arrived  to  seize  the  refractory  general.  By  a  last  instance 
of  dexterity,  he  turned  the  tables  on  the  commissioners,  cleverly  seized 
them,  sent  them  as  an  introduction  for  himself  to  the  Austrian  camp, 
and  galloped  after  them  with  the  young  duke  at  his  side.  The  seizure 
of  these  commissioners  was  of  service  to  more  than  himself,  for  they 
were  afterwards  exchanged  for  the  Dauphiness,  the  present  Duchess  of 
Angouleme,  then  in  prison  in  Paris. 

The  duke  had  fled,  only  on  knowing  that  an  order  for  his  arrest  had 
been  issued  from  Paris.  But  though  a  fugitive  by  necessity  he  refused 


1S30.]  France,  Wellington,  and  Europe.  377 

to  serve  against  France.  The  Prince  of  Cobourg,  the  Austrian  general, 
offered  him  the  command  of  a  division  as  lieutenant-general.  This  he 
declined;  and,,  proscribed  by  his  country,  separated  from  all  means  of 
income,  and  with  nothing  but  his  education,  his  activity,  and  his  honesty, 
he  went  to  make  his  way  through  the  world. 

Such  are  the  vicissitudes  from  which  at  times  no  rank  is  exempted.  But 
the  duke  had  more  than  the  ordinary  aggravations  of  a  fall  from  splendid 
fortune.  He  was  in  terror  for  every  member  of  his  family.  His  father 
and  two  brothers  were  in  the  dungeons  of  the  Committee  of  Public 
Safety,  dungeons  from  which  there  was  scarcely  an  instance  of  liberation, 
and  from  which  his  father  was  taken  but  to  die.  His  mother  and  sister 
had  fled  from  France,  and  he  had  no  intelligence  of  them,  except  that 
they  were  separated  !  He  was  personally  obnoxious  to  the  emigrants, 
from  his  Republican  services,  and  the  Republicans  would  have  seen 
him  only  to  send  him  to  the  guillotine.  In  this  emergency  he  made  his 
escape  to  Switzerland.  It  seems  unfortunate  that  he  did  not  come  to 
England,  where  he  would  have  been  secure,  and  highly  received.  But 
probably  he  might  have  been  reluctant  to  meet  the  multitude  of  emi- 
grants here,  and,  probably  too,  his  proud  spirit  would  have  been 
unwilling,  either  to  appear  as  a  pensioner  of  the  country,  or  to  take 
the  humble  means  which  he  must  have  found  necessary  for  indepen-> 
dence. 

But  in  Switzerland  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  finding  his  sister,  whom 
he  placed  in  the  convent  of  Bremgarten.  As  soon  as  his  presence  was 
known  he  was  persecuted,  and  obliged  to  fly  to  the  Alps  from  the  pursuit 
of  Robespierre.  During  four  months  which  he  passed  in  this  wild 
country,  he  and  his  valet  lived  on  thirty  sous,  or  Is.  5d.  a  day.  At 
length,  even  this  failed;  he  was  obliged  to  dismiss  his  valet,  and 
assuming  the  name  of  M.  Corby,  he  offered  himself  as  teacher  of  ma- 
thematics at  the  college  of  the  Grisons  at  Coire.  Here  he  subsisted  for 
eight  months.  The  death  of  Robespierre,  in  1794,  made  this  retire- 
ment unnecessary.  He  received  some  money  from  France,  and  hired  a 
cottage  in  a  Swiss  village.  He  then  set  out  on  a  tour  through  the 
north,  and  went  as  far  as  Lapland. 

In  an  account  by  Tweddale,  the  Greek  traveller,  of  his  visit  to  the 
duke,  in  Switzerland,  he  says :— - 

"  The  duke  is  at  present  determined  to  proceed  to  North  America,  to 
enjoy  that  liberty  for  which  he  has  suffered  so  much.  There,  in  the 
midst  of  forests,  he  will  complete  an  education  so  auspiciously  com- 
menced by  adversity.  I  doubt  not  that  he  will  still  display  that  unaf- 
fected magnanimity  which  has  hitherto  rendered  him  superior  to  good 
and  to  bad  fortune.  The  same  greatness  of  soul  has  marked  him 
throughout.  A  prince,  at  sixteen,  without  the  least  touch  of  pride; 
at  seventeen,  a  general  rallying  his  division  three  times  under  the  fire 
of  Gemappe  ;  a  professor  of  geometry  at  twenty,  as  competent  as  if  he 
had  devoted  to  it  long  years  of  study ;  and  in  each  condition,  as  if  he 
hkd  been  born  to  fulfil  its  duties,  To  conclude,  I  cannot  give  you  a 
better  idea  of  the  union  of  strength  and  moderation  in  his  character, 
than  by  a  copy  of  a  letter  which  he  wrote  a  few  days  ago  to  aix 
American,  who  had  offered  him  some  waste  land  to  clear.  —  '  I  am 
heartily  disposed  to  labour  for  the  acquisition  of  an  independence.  Mis-, 
fortune  has  smitten,  but,  thank  God,  it  has  not  prostrated  me.  More 
than  iiappy  in  my  misfortunes,  that  youth  prevented  .  the  formation  of 

M.M.  New  Series-— VOL.  X.  No.  58.  3  B 


378  The  King  of  the  French,  [OcT. 

habits  difficult  to  break  through,  and  that  prosperity  was  snatched  from 
me  before  I  could  either  use  or  abuse  it.'  " 

A  new  reason  was  soon  added  to  this  manly  propensity  to  struggle 
for  himself  in  the  world.  The  Directory  of  France,  fearing  the  return 
of  so  popular  a  branch  of  the  royal  family,  offered  to  liberate  his  brothers 
on  condition  of  his  going  to  America.  He  instantly  embraced  the  pro- 
posal. The  compact  was  kept  by  the  Directory,  and  the  duke  and  his  two 
brothers,  to  whom  he  was  strongly  attached,  met  in  Philadelphia,  in 
1797.  After  a  long  tour  through  the  lakes  and  forests,  he  passed  down 
the  Mississippi,  and  remained  at  the  Havannah  for  a  year  and  a  half, 
waiting  the  King  of  Spain's  permission  to  return  and  see  his  mother. 
The  permission  never  came.  He  now  visited  the  Duke  of  .Kent  at  Halifax, 
and  by  his  advice  sailed  for  England.  Again  he  sailed  for  Spain,  but 
was  not  suffered  to  land.  He  returned  to  England,  and  was  introduced 
by  the  Count  D'Artois  to  Louis  XVIII.  He  took  a  house  at  Twicken- 
ham, where  he  lost  his  brother,  the  Due  de  Montpensier,  by  a  consump- 
tion. His  brother,  Beaujolais,  was  seized  with  the  'same  disease,  and 
the  duke  took  him  to  Malta  for  change  of  climate ;  but  there  he,  too, 
died. 

The  history  of  this  distinguished  man  almost  exceeds  the  wanderings 
of  romance.  In  1809  he  went  to  Sicily,  on  a  visit  to  the  court.  Leopold, 
the  king's  second  son,  had  entertained  the  idea  of  being  chosen  head  of  the 
Spanish  nation,  in  the  absence  of  their  king.  He  sailed  with  the  duke 
for  Gibraltar ;  but  the  governor,  justly  conceiving  that  a  Sicilian  prince 
was  not  the  proper  head  for  a  free  insurrection,  refused  to  suffer  the 
royal  adventurer  to  land.  The  design  perished  on  the  spot. 

On  his  return  to  England  he  found  his  sister,  and  they  sailed  together 
to  meet  their  mother,  who  had  escaped  from  Spain,  and  the  French 
army,  to  Port  Mahon.  With  them  he  returned  to  Sicily,  where  he 
married  a  daughter  of  the  king,  Ferdinand  IV.,  in  1809.  He  remained 
four  years  in  Sicily,  in  the  midst  of  hazard  and  insurrection.  The 
Spaniards  offered  him  a  military  command  in  Catalonia,  in  1810.  But 
when  he  arrived  there  he  found  that  no  command  was  provided.  The 
English  general  probably  thought  that  the  duke's  presence  might  be 
some  impediment  to  the  national  objects.  He  was  refused  admission  at 
Cadiz,  and  he  returned  to  Sicily. 

On  the  king's  restoration  he  came  to  Paris,  and  was  made  colonel- 
general  of  hussars.  On  Napoleon's  landing,  in  March  1815,  the  Duke 
went  to  Lyons  to  act  with  the  Count  D'Artois,  but  the  troops  revolted 
and  he  returned  to  Paris.  He  was  instantly  sent  to  command  in  the  north, 
but  there  too  the  troops  revolted — he  instantly  made  his  decision,  gave 
up  the  command  to  Mortier,  and  followed  the  king  in  his  way  through  Bel- 
gium. In  1816  he  returned  with  his  family  from  England,  and  resided 
in  Paris,  in  a  state  of  cool  distance  with  the  court,  but  usefully  em- 
ploying his  vast  and  accumulating  revenue,  and  patronizing  public 
works  and  literature. 

The  story  of  the  celebrated  days  of  July  is  not  now  to  be  told. 
On  the  29th  the  white  flag  was  replaced  on  the  Tuilleries — on  the 
31st  the  king  abdicated,  and  on  the  17th  of  August  he  arrived  in 
England.  On  the  7th  of  August  the  Duke  of  Orleans  had  been  de- 
clared by  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  by  the  style  of  "  Louis  Philippe 
the  First,  King  of  the  French."  To  this  splendid  elevation  has 
reached  one  of  the  most  perilous,  diversified,  and  manly  courses  of 


1830.]  France,  Wellington,  and  jEurope.  379 

life  that  history  records.  Every  man  who  loves  personal  honour,, 
filial  duty,  and  patriotic  wisdom,  will  be  in  favour  of  this  elevation ; 
and  all  will  indulge  the  hope  that  this  amiable  and  able  individual 
has  come  to  the  close  of  his  vicissitudes,  and  that  no  cloud  may 
darken  the  brightness  of  his  proud  and  fortunate  day. 

The  present  state  of  the  British  ministry  may  be  disposed  of  in  a 
very  few  words.  It  is  at  this  hour  trembling  in  every  limb  •  it  feels 
that  the  country  is  totally  against  it — that  London  is  against  it — that 
the  Tories,  who  can  never  forgive  the  treachery  of  the  year  182&, 
are  against  it ;  that  the  Whigs,  whom  it  has  attempted  first  to  cajole 
for  the  purpose  of  division,  and  next  to  divide  for  the  purpose  of 
making  them  at  once  weak  and  ridiculous,  are  against  it,  and  that  no- 
thing is  for  it  but  that  worthy  whipper-in,  Mr.  Holmes,  the  new  police, 
and  the  hangers-on  about  the  Horse  Guards.  In  all  the  elections  the 
Field  Marshal  has  been  utterly  beaten.  The  Treasury  computation 
cheers  him  with  the  falsehood  that  he  has  gained  twenty-nine— the  true 
computation  beats  him  down  with  the  truth  that  he  has  lost  twice 
that  number. 

But  the  point  is  not  the  number  of  votes,  but  the  nature.  Of  course 
the  Field  Marshal  will  have  all  the  Bathursts,  to  their  last  generation  ; 
Mr.  Arbuthnot  is  a  sure  vote,  and  gentlemen  like  Mr.  Arbuthnot,  are 
sure  votes  too.  But  can  he  suppose  that  the  refuse  of  the  House,  if  they 
were  ten  times  the  number,  can  support  him  against  the  sense  of  the 
House,  aye,  and  more,  against  the  sense  of  the  nation  ?  Then,  let  him 
look  to  the  men  who  are  arrayed  against  his  trained  bands,  and  let  him 
look  to  the  mode  by  which  they  were  chosen,  the  places  for  which  they 
were  chosen,  and  still  more,  the  purposes  for  which  they  were  chosen  ! 
Let  him  look  to  York,  Middlesex,  Southwark,  Cumberland,  and  a 
crowd  of  other  places,  returning  members  on  the  sole  ground  that  they 
are  sworn  to  hostility  against  the  Horse-Guards'  cabinet.  Let  him  see 
every  thing  that  bears  the  despised  name  of  Peel,  cast  out  into  weeping 
and  gnashing  of  teeth,  half  a  dozen  of  those  would-be  legislators  less 
ejected  than  hurled  from  the  representation,  in  which  the  whole  interest 
of  the  Treasury,  the  pathetic  letters  of  Mr.  Planta,  and  the  glow- 
ing promises  of  Sir  Robert  Blifil  Peel,  could  not  keep  them  an  hour 
longer. 

And  what  is  his  prospect  of  defenders  in  the  House  of  Commons  ? 
Are  we  to  have  another  session  of  the  frigid  eloquence  of  Sir  Robert  Blifil? 
Is  a  house  of  six'  hundred  and  fifty-eight  gentlemen,  entrusted  with  the 
national  business,  to  sit  listening  to  the  heavy  fictions  and  ice-bound 
graces  of  Sir  Robert's  eloquence ;  and  listen,  while  the  country  is  calling 
upon  them  to  act ;  while  every  interest  of  England  at  home  and  abroad  is 
in  the  deepest  perplexity?  Listen,  while  our  manufacturers,  our  currency, 
our  trade,  our  laws,  our  popular  privileges,  and  our  religious  liberties, 
are  calling,  trumpet-tongued,  to  the  wisdom  of  the  great  national  legis- 
lative assembly  to  restore  their  vigour,  and  save  them  at  once  from  the 
rash  tampering  of  fools,  and  the  sullen  designs  of  those  who  see  nothing  but 
themselves,  and  think  of  nothing  but  the  perpetual  increase  of  an  ob- 
noxious power  ?  Listen,  while  Europe  is  heaving  with  universal  convul- 
sion ;  while  thrones  are  crumbling  down  under  the  tread  of  the  multitude ; 
while  France  rises  before  them  with  a  national,  self-equipped,  self- 
officered,  self-commanded  army  of  a  million  of  men,  a  force  such  as 

3  B  2 


380  The  King  of  the  French,  [OCT. 

the  world  never  saw  before,  and  which  stands  in  the  presence  of  Europe 
the  herald  of  the  mightiest  and  most  tremendous  innovations  ?  While 
kings  are  abdicating,  constitutions  breaking  up,  and  England  is  met 
by  the  spectacle  round  the  horizon,  of  fierce  change,  of  desperate 
passions  let  loose,  of  the  most  fearful  power  on  earth,  the  military  power 
of  the  populace,  wielding  the  force  of  government,  and  making  the 
safety  or  the  subversion  of  dynasties  dependent  on  their  will,  and  that 
will  dependent  on  the  evil  heart  or  the  mad  head,  the  reckless  ambition 
or  the  malignant  spirit  of  the  first  demagogue  who  shall  start  up 
among  them,  and  say,  "  Come,  I  will  lead  you  to  plunder  and  mas- 
sacre ?" 

And  to  protect  us  in  this  crisis  of  Europe,  we  have  Lord  Aberdeen, 
a  Scotch  metaphysician,  and  anonymous  critic  of  ballads  and  novels.  For 
our  finance,  which  the  newspapers  describe  as  falling  off  by  more  than 
a  million  a  quarter,  we  have  Mr.  Goulburn !  and  so  forth  of  the  rest. 
But  will  the  House  of  Commons  listen  to  such  men,  or  will  the  nation 
suffer  it  to  listen  to  such  men? 

We  must  see  the  session  begin  with  realizing,  for  the  first  time,  what 
kings'  speeches  have  promised  time  out  of  mind,  but  what  a  patriotic 
House  of  Commons  alone  will  ever  perform.  We  must  have  a  reform, 
ffrave,  rational,  and  total  j  a  reform  not  for  party  but  for  the  nation ;  not  a 
juggle  of  whigs  and  radicals,  not  for  a  Lord  John  Russell  the  more  or  less, 
or  any  similar  infinitessimal  of  the  national  understanding,  in  place  ;  not 
for  a  young  Apsley  the  more  or  less,  or  sucking  politician,  even  of  the 
Wellesley  line,  fastened  upon  the  people ;  but  an  abolition  of  all  the 
practices  that  make  the  country  look  with  jealousy  on  its  ministers  and 
its  representatives  ;  of  all  the  election  prostitutions  and  basenesses,  the 
bargainings  and  borough-mongerings— that  whole  long  list  of  offences 
which  Parliament  itself  so  fiercely  denounces  on  the  eve  of  its  dissolu- 
tion, and  so  blandly  forgets  on  the  commencement  of  its  next  seven 
years. 

We  must  have  a  purification  of  public  offices,  and  must  know  the 
reason  why  the  nonentity  of  Lord  Bathurst  should  be  paid  13,000/. 
a  year  out  of  the  earnings  of  the  people  ?  why  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 
after  receiving  a  national  donation  that  would  have  purchased  a  German 
principality — nearly  a  million  of  pounds  sterling — cannot  serve  in  office 
for  less  than  14,000/.  a  year  !  Why  Lord  Melville,  in  addition  to  his 
enormous  salary  of  5,0001.  a  year,  and  a  palace,  and  all  kinds  of  allow- 
ances at  the  Admiralty,  must  have  a  sinecure  of  4,0001.  besides  ?  Why 
Lord  Rosslyn,  with  his  half- sinecure  office  of  privy  seal,  should  have  a 
whole  sinecure  of  3,000/.  besides  ?  Why  the  burthen  of  all  the  salaries 
of  all  the  officers  of  state,  of  the  household  of  the  court,  and  of  the  whole 
pomp  and  foolery  attached  to  the  court,  should  not  be  strictly  examined? 
Why  the  pension  list,  that  old  source  of  national  disgust,  should  not  be 
overhauled  ?  We  must  know  the  reason  why,  when  the  land  is  over- 
run with  pauperism,  and  every  honest  man  begins  to  think  of  flying  from 
the  tax-gatherer  to  any  part  of  the  world  where  there  is  no  field-marshal, 
no  first  lord  of  the  treasury,  and  no  pension  list;  the  Lady  Aramintas  and 
.Isabellas,  the  daughters  of  noble  lords  and  haughty  countesses,  shall  be 
flourishing  about  the  world  with  our  money  in  their  pockets,  or  on  their 
coach  pannels  ?  The  inquiry  into  the  list,  too,  might  make  deeper  disco- 
veries, and  we  might  be  instructed  in  the  merits  of  ladies  more  renowned 
for  their  friendships  than  for  their  other  qualities.  We  should  place 


1830.]  France,  Wellington,  and  Europe.  381 

pensions  on  other  grounds  than  even  my  Lady  Hester  Stanhope's, 
who  has  the  handsome  sum  of  1,2001.  a  year  for  wearing  man's  clothes 
in  Turkey,  living  like  a  Turk,  talking  like  a  Turk,  and  declaring  that 
Mahomet  is  the  true  prophet !  We  should  hear  the  history  of  many  a  flower 
which  of  late  years  has  blushed  unseen,  however  conspicuous  it  might 
have  blushed  a  few  years  ago. — Our  representatives  will  have  enough 
to  occupy  them  for  a  while,  and  we  will  tell  them  that  if  they  do 
not  shew  themselves  in  earnest  in  the  matter,  the  people  of  England 
will  ask  them  questions  too. 

As  a  specimen  of  the  field  that  is  open  to  Sir  James  Graham  (an  able 
man,  a  good  speaker,  and  sure  to  be  a  powerful  man,  if  he  persists  as  he 
has  begun)  and  his  friends,  we  select  an  article  lately  circulated  in  the 
country. 

THE  WELLESLEY  FAMILY. — The  Tories  in  Essex,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Long 
Wellesley's  pledge  that  he  would  labour  for  a  "  shifting  of  the  load  from  the 
really  industrious  and  productive  classes  to  those  who  amass  the  fruits  of 
labour  without  the  toil  of  gathering  them,"  printed  the  following  amounts  of 
the  pickings  of  the  Wellesleys  from  the  public  : — 

Imprimis. — The  Duke  of  Wellington  has  received  from  the  public 

purse  no  less  a  sum  than £700,000 

Per  An. 

In  addition  to  which  the  family  receive  annually,  in  places  and  pen- 
sions   14,000 

Lord  Maryborough  (Mr.  L.  W/s  papa)  receives,  as  master  of  the 

buck-hounds! 3,000 

Lord  Cowley  (Mr.  L.  W/s  uncle)  receives 12,000 

Marquis  Wellesley  (Mr.  L.  W/s  uncle)  receives 4,000 

A  Sinecure  in  the  Court  of  Exchequer  in  Ireland,  with  reversion  to 

his  illegitimate  son  ! ! !  who  now  enjoys 1,200 

The  Rev.  Gerald  Wellesley  !  (Mr.  L.  W/s  uncle)  receives  in  church 

preferments 7,000  ! 

Lady  Mornington  (Mr.  L.  W/s  grandmamma)  receives  a  pension  of..  1,000 

Lady  Anne  Smith  (Mr.  L.  W/s  aunt)  receives  a  pension  of 800 

Her  husband  (Mr.  Smith)  a  place 1,200 

Lord  Burghersh  (Mr.  L.W/s  brother-in-law)  receives 4,000 

Sir  Charles  Bagot  (Mr.  L.  W/s  brother-in-law)  receives 12,000 

Lord  Fitzroy  Somerset  (Mr.  L.  W/s  brother-in-law)  receives 2,000 

But  the  Field  Marshal  himself,  the  man  of  humanity,  and  honour, 
and  politics,  and  the  new  police  ! — we  remember  his  saying  that  he 
would  rather  "  die  than  see  the  havoc  of  a  war  in  Ireland  !"  a  war  which 
would  finish  in  a  week,,  as  it  began,  with  a  speech  of  Mr.  O'Connell — 
though  probably  in  rather  a  different  location  from  his  favourite  Corn- 
Exchange.  But  with  what  infinite  pleasantry  must  the  "  Indian 
campaigner"  have  looked  on  the  gentlemen  who  huzzaed  this  scrap 
of  sentimentality !  It  was  even  better  than  Sir  George  Murray's 
-harangue  upon  a  soldier's  saying  his  prayers.  What  does  fact  say  to 
the  Grand  Duke's  tenderness  ?  Let  his  own  letters  speak  for  him.  Here 
is  a  paragraph,  just  published,  from  his  letters  to  Sir  Thomas  Munro, 
in  1800  :— 

"  I  have  taken  and  destroyed  Doondiah's  baggage,  and  six  guns,  and 
^driven  into  the  Malpurba  (WHERE  THEY  WERE  DROWNED)  about  jive 
thousand  people  !  I  stormed  Dummull  on  the  26th  of  July.  Doondiah's 
followers  are  quitting  him  apace,  as  they  do  not  think  the  amusement 


The  King  of  the  French,  [OcT. 

very  gratifying  at  the  present  moment.  The  war,  therefore,  is  nearly 
at  an  end  ;  and  another  blow,  which  I  am  meditating  upon  him  and  his 
Bunjarries,  in  the  Kentoor  country,  will  most  probably  bring  it  to  a 
close.  *  *  *" 

We  find  no  regret  for  this  horrible  catastrophe.  Not  a  syllable 
of  common  commiseration  for  a  set  of  poor  slaves  doing  their  duty, 
such  as  it  was,  to  their  chieftain,  and  fighting  for  him  against  what 
they  doubtless  considered  an  invasion  of  robbers.  A  fine  mess-table 
flourish  on  the  subject,  a  veni-vidi-vici  despatch  to  his  correspon- 
dent, may  be,  in  the  opinion  of  "  the  Honourable  House,"  humanity, 
and  heroism,  and  sentimentality,  and  "  all  that  sort  of  thing,"  as 
Mathews  says.  But  Heaven  defend  us  from  seeing  the  time  when  the 
feelings  and  virtues  of  Englishmen  shall  have  any  thing  to  do  with 
military  sentimentality  ! 

Why,  when  Napoleon,  who,  however,  never  boasted  of  his  humanity, 
put  twelve  hundred  Turks  to  death  at  Jaffa,  all  the  world  were 
outrageous  about  it !  The  whole  vocabulary  of  execration  was  poured 
on  him  pell-mell.  All  the  newspapers  were  pouring  down  on  the 
"  miscreant  murderer,  man  of  massacre,  blood- drinker/'  and  so  forth. 
Sir  Robert  Wilson  himself  could  not  sleep  in  his  bed  without  a  night- 
mare of  Napoleon  eating  up  mankind  !  All  the  sycophants  of  govern- 
ment strained  their  virgin  fancies  to  find  epithets  of  abhorrence  for 
the  Corsican  ;  and  among  the  rest,  Sir  John  Stoddart,  who  is  now 
sent  to  roast  in  Malta  (by  anticipation^),  was  so  peculiarly  prolific  in  the 
art  of  calling  names,  that  he  obtained  a  name  for  himself,  and  was 
entitled,  thenceforth  and  for  ever,  "  Papirius  Cursor."  Yet,  what  had 
Nap.  done? 

The  Corsican  had  to  deal  with  a  horde  of  barbarian  Turks,  fierce 
fellows,  whom  nothing  could  keep  to  their  word,  and  who  were  sure 
to  turn  upon  him  the  moment  he  let  them  go,  and  who  had  already  so 
turned  on  him.  He  had  not  to  deal  with  a  set  of  poor  shivering  devils, 
whom  a  rope  of  straw  could  bind  for  life,  and  who  would  have  asked 
nothing  better  than  never  to  hear  the  sound  of  a  musket  for  the  next 
thousand  years.  The  Corsican  had  to  deal  with  a  set  of  desperate 
cut-throats,  whom  he  had  before  made  prisoners,  and  who,  breaking  their 
promises  not  to  fight  against  him,  fought  against  him  the  moment  they 
could  get  a  fresh  cartridge. 

The  Corsican  was  in  the  midst  of  a  furious  population,  hating  him 
and  his,  like  poison,  and  made  implacable  by  every  sense  of  religious, 
personal,  and  national  antipathy ;  Moslems,  the  robbers  of  the  desert. 
He  was  not  in  the  midst  of  a  mob  of  peasants,  poor  rogues  of  rice-eaters, 
accustomed  to  see  his  countrymen  walk  over  their  necks  whenever  it  so 
pleased  a  warlike  governor ;  and  taking  the  visitation  as  tamely  as  they 
would  a  shower  of  rain.  Let  the  world  judge.  We  are  by  no  means 
defending  the  Corsican.  He  was  a  murderer ;  ferocious,  base,  and 
brutal ;  and  he  came  to  the  natural  end  of  ferocity,  baseness,  and  bru- 
tality. We  say  no  more. 

Again — 

"  Colonel  Montressor  has  been  very  successful  in  Bullum  ;  has  BEAT, 
BURNT,  PLUNDERED,  and  DESTROYED  in  all  parts  of  the  country.  But 
I  am  still  of  opinion  that  nothing  has  been  done  which  can  tend  effectually 
to  put  an  end  to  the  rebellion  in  Bullum ;  and  that  the  near  approach  of 


1830.]  France,  Wellington,  and  Europe.  383 

the  rains  renders  it  impossible  to  do  that,  which  alone,  in  my  opinion, 
will  ever  get  the  better  of  Kistnapah  Naig." 

The  deuce  is  in  it,  if  this  Colonel  Montressor  did  not  do  enough.  He 
beats,  burns,  plunders,  and  destroys,  in  all  parts  of  the  country.  Yet, 
according  to  the  opinion  of  the  great  military  authority  on  the  occasion, 
nothing  has  been  done  !  What  more,  may  we  take  the  liberty  of  asking, 
was  intended  to  be  done  ?  In  our  limited  fancy,  we  cannot  go  much 
beyond  "  burning,  plundering,  and  destroying,  in  all  parts  of  the  coun- 
try/' This,  to  be  sure,  is  pronounced  being  very  successful !  But  what  is 
the  grand  measure  behind — unattainable  by  bloodshed,  robbery,  and 
destruction,  through  a  whole  country  ?  We  must  wait  for  light  from 
some  military  authority. 

Again — 

"  My  troops  are  in  high  health  and  spirits,  and  their  pockets  full  of 
money,  THE  PRODUCE  OF  PLUNDER.  I  still  think,  however,  that  a  store 
of  rice  at  Hullihall  will  do  us  no  harm,  and  if  I  should  not  want  it,  the 
expense  incurred  will  not  signify.  *  *  * 

"  In  the  province  of  Bridnore  we  employed  some  of  the  Rajah's 
cavalry ;  with  the  support  of  our  infantry  some  thieves  were  caught : 

SOME    OF    THEM    WERE    HANGED,     AND    SOME    SEVERELY    PUNISHED    IN 

DIFFERENT  WAYS  :  the  consequence  has  been,  that  lately  that  country 
has  not  been  visited  by  them,  and  most  probably,  a  similar  operation  in 
Soonda  would  have  a  similar  effect.  I  STRONGLY  ADVISE  YOU  NOT  TO 
LET  THE  MAHRATTA  BOUNDARY  STOP  YOU  IN  THE  PURSUIT  OF  YOUR 
GAME,  when  you  will  once  have  started  it.  Two  or  three  fair  hunts, 
and  cutting  up  about  half-a-dozen,  will  most  probably  induce  the  thieves 
to  prefer  some  other  country  to  Soonda,  as  the  scene  of  their  opera- 
tions." *  *  * 

Such  are  Indian  wars,  grand  manreuvres,  glory,  imperishable  honours, 
and  the  rest,  that  make  the  brilliant  paragraphs  of  a  Gazette  Extra- 
ordinary. Now,  what  are  the  maxims  laid  down  in  this  simple  extract  ? 

Let  our  readers  judge  for  themselves.  We  are  not  military  enough 
to  see  their  true  beauty.  But  this  we  must  say — that  if  the  time  shall 
come,  when  Indians  publish  "  Histories  of  the  late  Campaign"— 
"  Recollections  of  the  War"  —  "  Memoirs  of  a  late  Field-Marshal," 
&c.,  &c.,  we  shall  probably  understand  that  fine  sentimentality  which* 
draws  such  tears  down  the  cheeks  of  heroes  and  the  "  Honourable 
House  !"  But  we  must  also  say,  that  we  see  no  possible  reason  why 
Napoleon,  "  Empereur  des  Fra^ais,"  should  not  be  wept  with.  Poor 
Nap  !  he  was  an  injured  man  after  all. 

The  news  from  the  Continent  is  peculiarly  romantic  and  animated. 
The  innkeepers  must  be  in  raptures  ;  there  never  was  such  a  demand 
for  post-horses ;  "  every  vehicle,"  as  our  Epsom  histories  say,  "  is  in 
full  requisition,"  and  kings,  and  princes,  field-marshals  and  privy 
councillors,  are  running  neck-and-neck  upon  every  highway  and  byway 
from  one  end  of  Europe  to  the  other.  The  King  of  France  has  at  last 
rested  from  his  labours,  and  he  now  takes  his  natural  Bourbon  pastime 
of  shooting,  confessing,  regulating  the  texture  of  his  hair-shirt,  and 
listening  to  his  chaplain  Jesuit's  assurances  of  the  imperishable  attach- 
ment of  Frenchmen  to  the  Son  of  Henry  the  Fourth ! 

But  the  bustle  is  still  going   on  with  hourly  activity  among  his 


384  The  King  of  the  French.  [OCT. 

"  cousins"  abroad.  The  Saxon  King,  who  began  by  attempting  to 
dragoon  Protestants  into  Papists,  has  felt  the  benefits  of  a  change  in  his 
own  person,  and  has  abdicated,  and  is  going  or  gone  somewhere  or  any- 
where, from  the  love  of  his  faithful  subjects.  Our  fighting  friend,  the 
Duke  of  Brunswick,  who  challenged  all  the  kings  of  the  round  world, 
has  been  pelted  out  of  his  opera  box,  burned  out  of  his  palace,  hunted 
out  of  his  country,  and  has  now  come,  with  a  coachful  of  pistols,  to 
honour  England  by  his  residence,  and  shew  off  his  heroism. 

We  shall  not  be  long  without  tidings  of  locomotion  from  that  brilliant 
prince  in  whose  hands  are  the  rights  of  Portugal,  and  the  keys  of  its 
five  hundred  state  prisoners.  Ferdinand  too  will  be  locomotive  in  good 
time,  and  we  should  recommend  the  extension  of  the  Railway  System, 
in  a  direct  line  between  the  capital  of  every  court  on  the  continent,  and 
the  nearest  harbour  in  the  direction  of  England  ;  for,  in  England  we 
shall  have  them  all,  until  kings  are  as  cheap  in  our  streets  as  common- 
councilmen. 

Can  we  be  suspected  of  saying  a  syllable  of  this  in  a  love  for  revolu- 
tion ?  Not  one  syllable.  We  say  it  in  the  most  perfect  hatred  and  fear 
of  Revolution.  But  who  are  the  true  makers  of  the  mischiefs  that  are 
now  threatening  to  go  the  round  of  Europe  ?  They  are  not  the  people. 
They  are  not  the  men  who  must  labour  for  their  bread,  who  know  well 
that  labour  is  the  portion  of  man,  and  who  know,  just  as  well,  that  the 
best  happiness,  virtue,  honour,  aye,  and  luxury  of  life,  are  to  be  found 
in  manly  industry.  But  the  true  Revolution-makers  are  the  dissolute  de- 
pendants on  Courts,  the  men  who  do  nothing,  can  do  nothing,  and  are  good 
for  nothing  ;  the  military  coxcombs  that  throng  the  foreign  courts,  the 
profligate  nobles,  male  and  female ;  the  whiskered,  simpering,  slavish 
race,  who  spend  their  ridiculous  and  wasteful  lives  between  a  court-ball, 
a  gaming-house,  and  the  side  scenes  of  a  theatre,  with  all  its  abomi- 
nations. The  Kings  of  the  Continent  are  about  to  be  told,  in  language 
such  as  they  must  feel,  that  they  have  been  placed  at  the  head  of 
nations,  not  for  their  own  luxury,  not  for  lives  of  alternate  indolence 
and  tyranny,  vulgar  ignorance,  and  gross  licentiousness.  We  disdain 
to  open  the  private  history  of  any  one  of  those  degraded  and  corrupt 
courts.  But  no  man  can  travel  without  hearing  and  seeing  circumstances 
in  foreign  life,  of  the  highest  rank,  that  can  only  make  him  wonder  at 
their  being  suffered  by  any  people.  The  whole  condition  of  the  Conti- 
tinent  would  justify  the  most  thorough  change.  There  is  no  liberty  on 
the  Continent,  except  we  are  to  call  by  that  name  the  present  democratic 
wildness  of  France.  There  is  not  a  government  under  which  the  subject 
can  feel  himself  safe  in  doing  any  one  public  act,  except  by  the  sufferance 
or  neglect  of  the  government.  There  is  not  a  people  which  is  not 
ground  to  the  dust  with  the  expenses  of  the  Court,  the  enormity  of  the 
exactions  of  the  great  monastic  institutions,  and  the  Popish  hierarchy, 
and,  above  all,  by  the  maintenance  of  immense  standing  armies,  totally 
beyond  the  necessities  or  the  means  of  the  people,  and  only  objects  of 
mutual  jealousy  to  all  the  powers ;  but  they  supply  commissions  for  the 
young  nobles,  commands  for  the  creatures  of  the  court,  and  amuse  the 
military  fondness  of  the  monarch  for  exhibiting  in  his  own  person  the 
successive  uniforms  of  his  hulans,  yagers,  grenadiers,  and  dragoons.  Is 
it  possible  that  such  a  system  should  last  ?  We  shall  see  the  taste  for 
abdication  turned  into  an  epidemic  before  long. 


1830.]  .      [    385    1 

THE     GOLDEN    CITY. 

MR.  JOHNSON  was  a  brewer  in  a  small  country  town,  and  as  the 
natives  were  not  very  well-bred  people,  he  carried  on  a  flourishing 
trade,  and  was  generally  said  to  be  making  money.  He  had  neither 
wife  nor  family,  or,  as  the  newspapers,  by  a  happy  and  polite  synonyme, 
express  the  same  condition,  he  was  <(  without  incumbrance ;"  and  to 
supply  the  want  of  both  heirs  and  partners,  he  had  introduced  into  his 
business  a  distant  relative,  by  name  Jonathan  Maurice.  The  young 
man,  or  rather  boy,  who  had  no  better  prospects,  was  highly  delighted 
with  an  offer  so  promising,  and  continued  for  some  years  an  active  and 
cheerful  superintendent  of  the  manufacture  of  ale.  An  intimacy  with 
the  neighbouring  family  of  a  wealthy  farmer  formed  one  of  his  chief 
pleasures,  and  no  higher  ambition  disturbed  an  incipient  attachment  for 
his  youngest  daughter,  Juliet. 

But  in  an  evil  hour,  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  being  constituted  a 
partner  in  the  business,  he  received  a  pressing  invitation  from  an  old 
school-fellow  ;  and  having  obtained  a  month's  furlough,  set  out  to  pay 
the  required  visit.  His  friend  was  one  of  a  family  who  had  risen  in 
the  world,  and  exhibited  all  its  vice  and  pride,  with  none  of  its  dignity. 
The  father  had,  by  a  happy  concurrence  of  circumstances,  made  a  for- 
tune, and  his  next  step  was  to  make  himself  a  family.  While  he 
remained  in  comparative  poverty,  he  cared  little  whether  he  had  any 
ancestors  or  not,  but  when  wealth  poured  in  upon  him,  he  grew  very 
jealous  of  the  idea  of  regular  procreation,  and  seemed  really  apprehen- 
sive lest  some  terrible  mistake  should  be  made  respecting  his  origin. 
As  his  riches  increased,  so  did  his'  ancestors ;  when  he  had  one  thou- 
sand a  year,  his  genealogy  extended  only  to  one  hundred  years,  and 
embraced  no  names  of  any  eminence  •  but  at  two  thousand,  a  noble 
progenitor  was  beheaded  for  high  treason ;  at  four  thousand,  he  was 
connected  with  royalty ;  and  when  he  retired  from  business,  there  was 
no  question  that  the  founder  of  his  race  was  a  Norman  Vagabond,  atten- 
dant on  the  Conqueror.  In  establishing  his  dignity,  he  was,  however, 
a  little  puzzled  by  the  brevity  and  unimportance  of  his  name,  which 
was,  simply,  John  James ;  but  having  observed  that  it  was  usual  in  such 
cases  to  double  the  appellation,  he  thought  it  would  be  still  more 
remarkable  to  repeat  it  thrice,  and,  accordingly,  denominated  himself 
"  John  James  James- James,  Esq.,  of  Nutbridge-park." 

The  novelty  of  his  pretensions  was  not  displayed  by  ordinary  vul- 
garity, but,  what  was  far  more  insufferable,  by  excessive  politeness  and 
inveterate  good  breeding.  His  taste  was  not  indeed  aristocratically 
plain,  nor  could  he  refrain  from  making  the  footman  and  footboy,  one 
very  tall,  and  the  other  as  remarkably  short,  both  stand  together  behind 
his  carriage ;  but  he  knew  enough  of  the  world  to  be  aware  that 
extravagant  show  is  the  last  means  by  which  a  man  of  moderate  sense 
would  seek  to  display  newly  acquired  wealth.  He  insisted  that  his 
daughters  should  dress  plainly,  though  exquisitely;  refused  his  sons  per- 
mission to  drive  tandem  in  a  dog-cart ;  and  supplied  his  groom,  whom, 
by  the  way,  he  caused  to  ride  so  close  behind  him  as  to  leave  no  assign- 
able interval,  with  a  horse  much  handsomer  than  his  own. 

But  in  spite,  or  rather  in  consequence,  of  much  study  to  be  polite  and 
easy,  an  air  of  pride  and  vulgar  restraint  pervaded  the  whole  family. 
They  were  proud  of  every  thing — of  their  wealth,  their  taste,  their  con- 

M,M.  New  Series— VOL.  X.  No.  58.  3  C 


386  The  Golden  City.  [OcT 

descension,  but  chiefly  of  their  manners.  They  always  came  into  com- 
pany with  the  air  of  wild  beasts  imperfectly  tamed ,  and  their  father 
bore  so  exactly  the  aspect  of  a  showman,  that,  when  he  began  to  say 
this  is  my  son  John,  or  my  daughter  Jane,  the  guest  would  not  have 
been  surprised,  had  he  proceeded  to  detail  the  circumstances  of  their 
capture,  and  the  mode  of  their  subsequent  discipline.  His  children 
themselves  lived,  like  Tantalus,  in  perpetual  dread,  fearing  lest  some 
breach  of  good  manners  should  fall  on  their  devoted  heads.  Of  that 
perfection  of  art  which  consists  in  the  concealment  of  art  they  had  no 
conception.  They  were  constantly  talking  of  politeness. 

Their  intention  in  inviting  Maurice,  was  to  overwhelm  him  with 
alternate  pleasure  and  mortification,  and  send  him  home  deeply  im- 
pressed with  his  own  meanness  and  their  superiority.  On  the  first  day 
he  afforded  them  much  entertainment,  by  his  hungry  amazement  at  the 
delay  of  dinner.  At  two  o'clock  he  thought  it  probable  they  dined  at 
three,  and  so  on,  for  several  hours ;  but  at  six,  he  felt  certain  they  would 
not  dine  at  all,  and  even  if  they  should,  he  doubted  whether  he  should 
be  alive  to  partake  of  the  recast.  At  seven,  however,  he  welcomed  the 
sound  of  a  bell,  and  learnt  it  was  the  signal  for  dressing,  upon  which 
he  hurried  up  stairs,  and  returning  with  much  precipitation,  after  the 
lapse  of  five  minutes,  was  surprised  to  find  several  of  the  party  not  yet 
set  out  on  the  errand  he  had  so  speedily  accomplished. 

At  dinner  he  eat  enormously  of  the  first  course,  supposing  it  to  be 
the  only  one,  and  called  three  times  for  beer.  The  forks  puzzled  him 
extremely,  and  he  seemed  wholly  unable  to  determine  which  side  should 
be  kept  uppermost,  but  he  failed  to  apply  them  to  their  most  important 
use,  and  employed  his  knife  where  its  principal  attribute  of  cutting  was 
more  than  needless.  His  companions  were  shocked  ;  nor  was  the  sub- 
ject so  disgustingly  stale  to  them,  as  to  check  the  wit  of  Alexander,  the 
eldest  son,  and  deter  him  from  inquiring,  with  great  simplicity,  whether 
he  had  seen  the  Indian  Jugglers,  and  insidiously  leading  him  to  explain 
their  method  of  thrusting  knives  down  their  throats. 

In  the  evening,  the  young  ladies  entertained  him  with  Italian  music, 
and  would  not  believe  he  understood  nothing  of  it.  One  asked  his 
opinion  of  Rossini,  and  another  was  certain  he  liked  Beethoven ;  but 
the  greatest  mirth  was  excited  by  his  replying  to  a  question  respecting 
a  song  he  held  in  his  hand,  that  he  could  not  tell  its  name,  but  it  was 
from  "  Nozzy  die  Figaro,  by  Mozzart."  Then  he  was  entreated  to  sing 
himself,  and  with  so  much  urgency,  that  he  was  obliged  to  yield ;  for- 
tunately, he  selected  a  comic  subject,  and  though  his  auditors  were  too 
polite  to  laugh,  he  had  no  reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  the  amusement 
they  exhibited. 

He  remarked  that  the  song  was  in  a  play,  and  inquired  if  they  had 
ever  seen  it  performed.  They  replied  in  the  negative ;  and  fancying 
himself  in  one  respect  at  least  their  superior,  he  began  to  relate  how 
exquisitely  he  had  seen  it  acted  by  a  strolling  company  in  his  native 
town.  They  heard  him  gravely  till  he  concluded,  and  then  gave  him 
to  understand  that  they  never  frequented  the  theatres  in  London,  and 
that,  in  fact,  no  body  ever  did ;  an  assertion  which  much  amazed  him 
at  first,  since  he  had  been  informed  they  were  often  almost  full ;  but 
they  soon  explained  themselves  more  clearly,  and  abashed  him  by  the 
conviction  that  he  had  introduced  a  subject  of  notorious  vulgarity. 

A  disquisition  on  the  metropolis  naturally  ensued,  and  here,  having 


1830.]  The  Golden  City.  387 

never  seen  it,  he  felt  himself  in  very  deep  shade,  and,  while  they 
descanted  on  its  charms,  he  was  not  a  little  galled  by  their  commisera- 
tion of  his  ignorance.  London  seemed  the  very  Utopia  of  their  ima- 
ginations— the  concentration  of  all  that  was  beautiful  to  the  eye,  and 
delightful  to  the  intellect.  It  was  the  seat  and  source  of  all  merit ;  other 
regions  shone  only  by  its  reflected  lustre ;  they  esteemed  Nature  an 
architect  inferior  to  Mr.  Nash ;  and  could  the  moon  and  stars  have  been 
"  warranted  town-made,"  they  would  have  liked  them  better. 

Every  succeeding  day  added  to  the  humiliation  Maurice  already 
began  to  experience ;  and  all  the  divisions  of  the  day  had  their  appro- 
priate annoyances.  If  he  walked  out,  he  detested  his  boots  or  his 
gloves  ;  if  he  rode,  he  inwardly  cursed  his  breeches  ;  and  at  dinner,  he 
was  so  bothered  by  French  names  for  the  commonest  dishes,  that  he 
was  reduced  to  the  phrases,  "  I'll  trouble  you/'  or,  "  a  little  of  that 
dish,  if  you  please  ;"  and  if  he  was  asked  to  take  any  particular  wine, 
he  gave  a  hurried  assent,  though,  for  aught  he  knew  of  its  appellation, 
it  might  have  been  a  solution  of  arsenic. 

"  And  who,"  he  inquired,  "  were  the  persons  that  caused  him  this 
vexatious  abasement  ?"  Merely  a  London  merchant,  .at  one  time  not 
much  richer  than  himself,  content  with  a  plain  cypher  on  his  seal, 
instead  of  the  splendid  coat  of  arms  of  horned  dogs  and  winged  pigs, 
which  now  figured  on  every  signet  and  every  possible  article  of  furni- 
ture in  the  house,  from  the  hall-chairs  to  the  buckets  used  in  the  stable- 
yard.  One  of  his  sons  had  been  his  school-fellow  :  so  far  from  being  in 
any  way  his  superior,  he  had  ranked  far  beneath  him  in  attainments, 
and  was  flogged  once  a  week  for  never  washing  his  face.  The  reflection 
on  the  change  produced  in  their  relative  situations  was  of  such  constant 
and  irritating  recurrence,  that  the  pleasure  of  his  visit  was  wholly  anni- 
hilated, and  as  soon  as  he  conveniently  could,  he  made  some  pretext  for 
returning  home. 

He  resumed  the  duties  of  his  business,  but  the  smell  of  malt  disgusted 
him.  The  workmen,  whom  he  had  once  respected  as  industrious  or 
clever  servants,  seemed  to  him  perfect  caricatures  of  humanity  ;  and  the 
huge  tubs,  which  had  excited  his  pride  by  their  immensity,  looked  so 
insupportably  hideous,  that  he  almost  wished  they  might  burst.  A 
country  brewer  ! — that  phrase  comprised  all  that  was  odious.  Had  he 
been  a  London  brewer,  the  case  would  have  been  completely  changed, 
for  then  he  might  have  had  no  more  to  do  with  brewing  than  with 
astrology,  and,  at  the  expense  of  having  his  name  gibbeted  in  capitals 
all  over  the  city,  followed  by  the  mysterious  word  Entire,  he  might 
have  enjoyed  an  ample  income,  and  sat,  with  booksellers  and  linendrapers, 
an  ornament  to  the  senate  of  his  country. 

He  concluded,  therefore,  that  the  principal  difference  in  human  con- 
ditions depended  on  living  in,  or  out  of,  the  metropolis ;  and  he  began 
to  consider,  whether  it  was  not  competent  to  him  to  attain  all  the  advan- 
tages it  could  confer,  and  become,  like  Mr.  James-James,  the  founder  of 
a  polite,  wealthy,  and  ancient  family.  As  the  idea  began  to  unfold 
itself,  its  attractions  increased,  and  he  ventured,  at  length,  to  communi- 
cate his  views  to  Mr.  Johnson,  who  called  him  a  fool,  and  strove  to  con- 
vince him  that  he  was  one ;  but,  failing  in  the  argument,  and  hoping 
that  love  might  have  more  influence  than  reason,  he  sent  him  on  a  visit 
to  Miss  Juliet  Manning. 

All  families  have  their  distinctive  foibles,  and  the  reigning  one  of  the 

3  C  2 


388  The  Golden  City.  [OCT. 

Mannings  was  a  pathetic  love  of  brute  pets.  The  sitting-room,  into 
which  Maurice  was  ushered,  contained  two  old  dogs  and  a  puppy,  a 
parrot,  a  cat  without  a  tail,  and  a  lamb ;  Juliet  was  nursing  a  kitten, 
and  three  of  her  brothers  were  in  tears — William,  because  his  last 
pigeon  was  just  dead,  and  John  and  Thomas,  because  the  tame  hawk  of 
the  one  had  slain  the  tame  mouse  of  the  other.  In  short,  it  was  impos- 
sible to  walk  across  the  room,  much  less  to  approach  the  fire,  without 
breaking  the  tail  or  the  leg  of  some  antiquated  favourite,  and  such  an 
accident  was  certain  to  call  forth  so  much  tenderness  of  feeling,  that 
the  author  of  it  wished  he  had  only  murdered  all  the  family.  The  pre- 
sent spectacle  was  deeply  interesting.  Juliet  looked  pleased,  and  wel- 
comed her  lover  :  but  she  could  not  rise  without  disturbing  the  kitten  ; 
her  brothers  sat  bemoaning  themselves  with  undiminished  grief,  and 
the  dogs  lay  luxuriously  on  the  hearth-rug  :  but  shortly  after  the  scene 
was  wholly  changed ;  the  mourners  leaped  up  and  dried  their  tears  ; 
the  kitten  was  laid  aside  in  a  little  bed,  and  the  dogs  raised  their  un- 
wieldy bodies  upon  their  insufficient  legs.  Maurice  did  not  at  first 
comprehend  the  reason,  but  was  speedily  informed  that  Mr.  Manning 
had  just  sounded  a  horn,  to  intimate  that  he  was  awaiting  them  at  the 
pond  to  entertain  their  tender  sensibilities  with  the  diversion  of  a  duck- 
hunt.  He  accompanied  them,  and  witnessed  the  sport,  which  was  highly 
satisfactory ;  the  duck,  indeed,  died  from  exhaustion,  but,  as  it  was  not 
a  pet,  its  sufferings  excited  no  commiseration,  and  its  death  no  sorrow. 

In  a  happier  frame  of  mind,  Maurice  would  have  excused  the  incon- 
sistency and  thoughtless  cruelty  which  he  witnessed,  but  he  had  be- 
gan to  despise  the  actors  in  the  scene,  and  therefore  felt  little  tender- 
ness for  their  failings.  Juliet,  in  particular,  he  condemned  with  unmea- 
sured severity,  and  contrasted  the  unbridled  gaiety  of  her  demeanour 
with  the  calm  dignity  of  the  ladies  at  Nutbridge-park,  till  he  concluded 
that  she  was  vulgar  as  well  as  silly,  and  combined  ill-breeding  with  a 
want  of  sensibility.  As  he  had  once  erred  in  exalting  her  foibles  to 
the  rank  of  virtues,  so  he  now  did  by  exaggerating  them  to  the  dignity 
of  crimes. 

Hundreds  imagine  themselves  persons  of  refined  taste  or  excellent 
morality,  when  they  are,  in  fact,  only  ill-tempered  ;  they  feel  contempt 
because  they  are  bilious ;  and  when  they  are  overwhelmed  with  spleen, 
they  dignify  their  ailments  with  the  idea  of  conscious  superiority, 
pity  their  friends,  and  write  satires.  Such,  at  least,  was  the  foundation 
of  the  discontent  of  Maurice.  He  struggled  to  conceal  the  change  in  his 
sentiments,  but  was  not  so  far  successful  as  to  avoid  wounding  the  feel- 
ings of  Juliet ;  for  his  attentions  were  less  spontaneous  than  usual,  and 
his  thoughts  so  abstracted,  that  when,  by  way  of  experiment,  she  drop- 
ped her  glove,  she  was  compelled,  half- weeping  with  mortification,  to 
pick  it  up  again  with  her  own  hand. 

He  concluded  his  visit,  little  pleased  with  his  friends,  and  far  less 
with  himself;  and  as  he  rode  home,  he  wrought  himself  up  to  the  reso- 
lution, that  he  would  without  delay  seek  his  fortune  in  that  El  Dorado, 
which  had  raised  so  far  above  him  persons  whom  he  had  once  deemed 
little  more  than  his  equals. 

Mr.  Johnson  was  a  man  who  had  no  idea  of  arguing,  and  whether 
right  or  wrong,  he  always  got  into  a  passion  ;  whence  it  arose,  that  the 
urgency  of  Maurice  in  pressing  the  execution  of  his  plan — a  plan,  of 
which  he  saw  the  folly  more  clearly  than  he  could  explain  it — led  to  an 


1830.3  The  Golden  City.  380 

inveterate  quarrel.  The  relatives  separated  in  disgust ;  and  the  younger 
one,  with  a  hundred  pounds  in  his  pocket,  and  an  imagination  over- 
charged with  ideas  of  wealth  and  pleasure,  set  out  on  a  cold  evening  in 
March  for  the  metropolis. 

He  found  only  one  vacant  space  left  for  him  on  the  exterior  of  the 
vehicle,  and  that  considerably  encroached  upon  by  the  persons  and 
goods  of  others.  Two  men  of  extraordinary  dimensions,  wearing,  each, 
twenty  great  coats,  with  as  many  score  of  capes,  shared  the  seat,  and 
opposite  to  him  was  the  guard;  the  space  destined  for  his  feet  was 
occupied  by  a  hamper  of  fish,  and  two  umbrellas  had  right  of  posses- 
sion behind  him  :  but  these  evils  were  tolerable,  when  compared  with 
the  annoyance  of  a  box  so  projecting  from  among  the  luggage,  that  it 
gave  to  his  head  one  compulsory  position,  far  from  pleasing  or  perpen- 
dicular. The  long  dreariness  of  a  wintry  night  lay  in  prospect  before 
him;  he  could  not  sleep  ;  and  once  when  he  attempted  it,  the  sonorous 
bugle  of  the  guard,  covering  his  head,  awoke  him  with  a  start ;  but  it 
must  not  be  disguised,  that  he  had  the  satisfaction,  not  only  of  seeing 
and  hearing  that  several  of  his  companions  were  asleep,  but  of  feeling 
the  fact,  by  occasional  buttings  and  oscillations,  indicative  of  happy 
repose.  At  length  morning  broke  on  the  white  frosty .  fields  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  metropolis  ;  and  shorty  after  he  was  deposited  in 
Gracechurch-street,  with  London  all  before  him  where  to  choose. 

The  appearance  of  all  he  had  hitherto  seen  of  his  terrestrial  paradise 
rather  surprised  him.  The  buildings  in  Whitechapel  did  not  strike 
him  as  more  splendid  than  those  of  his  native  town,  and  the  atmosphere, 
compounded  of  smoke,  gas,  and  steam,  seemed  scarcely  fluid.  It  had 
not  rained  for  some  time  previously,  yet  every  thing  was  as  wet  as  if 
the  flood  had  just  subsided :  but  this,  though  he  knew  it  not,  was 
an  advantage  to  the  prospect,  for,  otherwise,  clouds  of  dust  would  have 
blinded  him,  and  prevented  his  seeing  it  at  all. 

Instead  of  remaining  in  the  City,  he  proceeded,  as  he  had  been 
recommended,  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Covent  Garden,  which,  for  it* 
undisturbed  quiet,  and  the  sweet  perfume  of  stale  vegetables,  is  a  very 
favourite  region  for  hotels.  Here  he  was  ushered  into  a  room,  which 
exactly  contained  a  bed,  and  after  surrendering  his  boots  to  a  man,  who 
gave  him  in  exchange  a  pair  of  slippers,  which  would  have  fitted  a  horse 
as  well  as  a  gentleman,  he  endeavoured  to  procure  a  little  rest.  But,  to  say 
nothing  of  an  "  Introduction  to  EJntomology,"  of  which  it  would  be 
improper  to  speak  more  particularly,  the  bed  might  have  proved  an 
excellent  antidote  to  a  pound  of  opium  ;  and  two  persons,  one  whistling, 
and  the  other  singing,  were  getting  up  in  adjoining  apartments. 

Accordingly,  he  soon  rose  again,  and  attempted  to  wash  himself  with 
water,  r>f  which  the  surface  was  covered  with  heaven-descended  par- 
ticles, answering  the  purpose  of  rouge,  except  that  they  were  black, 
while  the  soap  seemed  intended,  by  its  size,  to  exemplify  the  infinite 
divisibility  of  matter,  and,  by  its  unchanged  endurance  of  moisture, 
proved  itself  a  far  better  material  for  public  buildings  than  the  external 
plaster  of  the  new  treasury,  so  lately  built  to  contain  the  national  debt.- 
Nor  was  it  very  easy  to  obtain  any  alleviation  of  his  numerous  afflic- 
tions, for,  though  a  rope  attached  to  a  wire  hung  from  the  ceiling,  he 
laboured  at  it  for  a  long  period  without  success,  and  had  no  other 
reason  to  suppose  he  was  ringing  a  bell,  than  that  nobody  came  to- 
answer  it. 


390  The  Golden  City.  [Ocx. 

When  he  had  prevailed  over  all  the  difficulties  of  the  toilette,  and 
taken  the  meal  naturally  succeeding  to  it,  his  thoughts  turned  towards 
a  subject  of  yet  greater  importance, — the  accomplishment  of  the  first 
step  in  creating  his  own  fortune.  And  here  he  was  surprised  to  dis- 
cover how  indefinite  his  ideas  had  hitherto  been,  and  .how  much  they 
wanted  of  any  approach  to  practical  application.  In  this  perplexity,  he 
had  recourse  to  the  advice  of  a  person  slightly  connected  with  him  by 
descent,  and  was  fortunate  enough  to  procure  a  situation  as  clerk  in  a 
merchant's  office.  The  salary,  indeed,  was  exceedingly  small,  and  the 
labour  required  bore  to  it  the  usual  inverse  ratio  :  but  it  was  precisely 
the  occupation  he  desired,  as  affording  most  room  for  the  splendid  results 
he  anticipated. 

The  ostensible  head  of  the  mercantile  concern  to  which  Maurice  was 
recommended,  was  Mr.  Merivale ;  but  he  committed  all  its  cares  to  one 
or  two  accomplices,  and  took  no  active  part,  except  that  of  spending 
much  the  largest  share  of  the  profits.  There  once  existed  a  decided 
line  of  demarcation  between  commercial  grandeur  and  the  dignity  of 
nobility  and  hereditary  wealth ;  and  the  distinction,  though  founded  in 
pride,  and  often  invidious,  was  not  wholly  mischievous  in  its  tendency. 
But,  at  the  birth  of  Mr.  Merivale,  this  boundary-line  was  fast  fading 
away  ;  and  the  city  wall,  weakened  by  the  frequent  irruptions  of  needy 
nobles,  and  excursive  exploits  of  ambitious  traders,  was  tottering  to  its 
foundation. 

In  conformity  with  the  prevailing  idea,  that  a  merchant  not  only 
might  be,  but  ought  to  be,  a  gentleman,  the  father  of  Mr.  Merivale  sent 
him  to  the  university,  and  educated  him,  in  all  respects,  as  a  man  of 
hereditary  and  independent  fortune.  The  natural  consequence  was, 
that,  at  three-and-twenty,  he  felt  no  predilection  for  the  city;  was 
irregular  in  his  attendance  at  his  office,  and  careless  in  his  transactions  ; 
and  in  process  of  time,  after  the  death  of  his  father,  surrendered  the 
whole  management  of  his  affairs  to  partners  and  clerks.  Thenceforth 
he  regarded  his  merchandize  in  no  other  light  than  as  a  disgraceful 
source  of  profit — the  secret  profession  of  a  thief,  of  which  nothing  must 
be  known — or  an  Irish  estate,  an  unseen  spring  of  convenient  wealth. 

As  he  totally  evaded  the  labours  of  his  business,  he  ought  in  fairness 
to  have  been  moderately  indifferent  to  its  returns ;  but,  in  point  of  fact, 
he  was  far  more  rapacious  than  the  active  partners  ;  and  the  mention  of 
storms,  embargoes,  blockades,  or  anything  that  tended  to  the  diminu- 
tion of  his  income,  exasperated  him  to  madness.  Money,  however,  was 
with  him  an  evanescent  good :  he  was  habitually  extravagant,  and  lest 
any  motive  to  profusion  should  be  wanting,  he  selected  for  his  wife  the 
worst  of  all  possible  economists — a  poor  lady  of  rank.  Her  expenses 
and  his  own  frequently  reduced  the  gentleman-merchant  to  some  diffi- 
culties ;  but,  on  such  occasions,  he  studied  not  how  to  reduce  his  expen- 
diture, but  how  to  increase  his  income.  With  this  view,  he  effected  at 
one  time  a  reduction  in  the  salaries  of  the  clerks,  and  at  another,  by 
abolishing  their  vacations  of  a  week  annually,  diminished  their  numbers 
— measures  by  which  he  saved  sixty  pounds  towards  the  rent  of  an 
opera-box. 

On  an  appointed  day,  Maurice  set  out  for  the  counting-house  of  the 
Russian  merchants.  It  was  situated  in  a  lane  leading  out  of  Lombard- 
street,  so  narrow  that  broad  daylight  could  never  be  said  to  enter  it, 
and,  in  winter,  sunrise  and  sunset  could  most  easily  be  ascertained  by 


1830.]  The  Golden  City.  391 

the  almanack.  Ascending  the  ancient  stairs,  he  entered  a  large,  low 
room,  lighted  with  gas,  which  served  to  exhibit  the  filthiness  of  its 
condition,  and  the  sallow  countenances  of  ten  labourers  at  their  desks. 
In  compliance  with  the  directions  there  given  him,  he  proceeded  to  an 
adjoining  closet,  where,  perched  on  a  stool,  sat  a  very  short  Tyrian 
prince,  by  name  Sichaeus,  or,  as  he  was  more  commonly  and  corruptly 
called,  Mr.  Sikes. 

The  room  was  ridiculously  small,  but  into  it  were  crowded,  with  much 
ingenuity,  a  fire-place,  a  desk,  a  stool,  and  Mr.  Sikes.  Its  contracted 
dimensions  seemed,  however,  to  give  its  tenant  no  uneasiness;  and, 
indeed,  he  could  do  in  it  what  no  man  could  do  in  a  palace ;  for,  as  he 
sat  on  his  stool,  he  could  open  the  window,  shut  the  door,  stir  the  fire, 
or  kill  a  spider  on  the  ceiling.  He  heard  the  address  of  Maurice  with 
attention,  but  soon  exhibited  his  reigning  characteristic,  which  was  to 
be  always  busy.  He  had,  indeed,  a  great  weight  of  occupation ;  but  he 
affected  to  have  yet  more,  and  never  was  so  hurried  or  precipitate  in 
dismissing  a  visitor,  as  when  beginning  to  kick  his  legs  against  his  stool 
for  want  of  any  other  earthly  employment.  In  fact,  being  busy  was 
with  him  as  mere  a  trick  as  taking  snuff,  or  going  to  church  :  he  was 
busy  eating,  busy  sleeping,  and  busy  doing  nothing  ;  and  though  he 
has  since  found  time  to  die,  he  was  so  much  hurried  that  he  died 
suddenly. 

He  received  Maurice  with  blunt  civility,  and,  after  making  a  few 
inquiries,  set  him  immediately  to  work  at  copying  out  a  long  letter  of 
business,  relating  chiefly  to  tallow,  to  Palcoviwitch,  Lorobowsky  and 
Palarislay,  merchants  at  St.  Petersburgh.  He  was  accordingly  intro- 
duced into  the  company  of  his  fellow-clerks,  and  while  undergoing  much 
observation  and  remark,  he,  in  his  turn,  made  several  conclusions 
respecting  them.  Most  of  them  seemed  to  have  little  care  of  their  man- 
ners or  appearance ;  but  there  was  one  of  more  refinement,  who,  while 
the  rest  spat  openly,  like  cats  in  a  passion,  put  his  hand  beside  his 
mouth  to  conceal  the  operation ;  and,  while  two  of  his  companions  were 
quarrelling  about  the  shutting  of  a  window,  earnestly  and  politely 
entre'ated  them  not  to  make  d — d  fools  of  themselves.  But  they  had 
little  time  to  waste,  and,  excepting  some  angry  interludes  and  com- 
plaints of  an  unequal  division  of  labour,  their  whole  attention  was 
absorbed  by  immense  books  and  numberless  papers.  Maurice  found 
his  own  share  of  the  labour  sufficiently  wearisome,  and  before  he  had 
half  completed  it,  he  was  assailed  by  a  violent  head-ache,  which  gra- 
dually increased  till  the  hour  of  his  release  arrived.  At  that  wished-for 
period,  he  returned  to  his  hotel,  with  eyes  dizzied  by  the  glare  of  diur- 
nal gas,  and  spirits  depressed  by  fatigue;  and  beginning  to  suspect  that, 
though  London  was  certainly  the  mart  of  wealth  and  grandeur,  it  was 
not  a  scene  of  pure  and  unalloyed  pleasure. 

The  day  following  he  occupied  in  seeking  some  place  of  abode  more 
suited  to  his  very  limited  finances,  and  finally  selected  the  first  floor  (as 
the  second  floor  of  a  building  is  generally  called)  of  a  house  in  the 
suburbs,  which  adjoined  a  large  open  space,  full  of  new  bricks  and 
deep  pits,  whence  their  materials  had  been  extracted.  On  the  evening 
of  his  establishment  in  these  "  pleasant  and  airy  lodgings,"  he  returned 
from  his  office  to  a  late  dinner,  much  annoyed  by  a  reproof  from  his 
superior,  and  an  insult  from  one  of  his  fellow- clerks.  After  knocking 
three  times,  he  was  admitted  by  a  little  girl ;  and  having  proceeded 


392  The  Golden  City.  [OCT. 

up  stairs  in  the  dark,  he,  in  course  of  time,  succeeded  in  obtaining  a 
light.  In  another  half-hour,  his  dinner  appeared,  consisting  of  two 
mutton-chops,  embedded  in  liquiescent  grease,  which  seemed  eager  to 
claim  kindred  with  the  more  perfect  character  of  the  tallow  of  the  soli- 
tary yellow  candle.  Two  enormous  potatoes,  pleasingly  diversified 
with  black  spots,  and  as  hard  as  cannon-balls,  completed  the  course  ; 
and  the  place  of  wines,  in  all  their  absurd  variety,  was  philosophically 
supplied  by  a  pint  of  black  liquor,  compounded  of  glue,  treacle  and 
wormwood,  and  denominated  porter. 

The  second  course  was  brought  in  with  much  ceremony  by  the  child 
before-mentioned,  whom,  in  default  of  a  bell,  he  was  obliged  to  sum- 
mon by  her  name — Arrier-Beller.  The  centre-dish, .  side-dishes,  and 
top  and  bottom  dishes  were  ingeniously  contracted  into  one,  bearing  a 
small  piece  of  cheese  that  a  hungry  rat  would  have  scorned,  beside  a 
lump  of  butter,  to  the  authorship  of  which  sheep  and  pigs  had  a  better 
claim  than  cows ;  and  with  this  the  unsophisticated  repast  concluded. 

All  men  of  business,  when  left  to  themselves,  fall  fast  asleep  imme- 
diately after  dinner ;  and  Maurice  experienced  exhaustion  and  fatigue 
enough  to  induce  him  to  adopt  the  same  course,  had  his  inclinations 
been  his  only  rule.  But  it  happened  that  there  were  lodging  over  him 
two  little  children  who  screamed  incessantly,  the  one  taking  turns  with 
the  other  to  sleep ;  while,  during  one  half  of  the  day  and  night,  their 
parents  made  twice  as  much  noise  in  attempting  to  quiet  them.  Not, 
indeed,  that  the  infants  were  always  ill  or  out  of  temper  j  but  the  only 
method  their  tender  age  had  of  expressing  pain  or  pleasure,  was  by  an 
exertion  of  the  lungs,  which  made  them  black  in  the  face ;  and  the 
amusements  contrived  for  them — such  as  rattling  the  latch  of  a  door,  or 
galloping  on  a  footstool — were  all  of  a  noisy  character.  Maurice  wished 
he  could  explain  to  them  that  his  head  ached,  and  regretted  that 
the  mother,  in  singing  her  boy  to  sleep,  thought  it  necessary,  vibrating 
seconds,  to  stamp  sixty  times  in  a  minute  on  the  frail  floor ;  but  he 
endeavoured  to  recollect  that  the  path  to  eminence  is  generally  toilsome, 
and,  as  his  evils  were  of  his  own  choosing,  pride  furnished  him  with  a 
resolution,  which  he  chose  to  call  patience. 

More  than  a  month  passed  away  in  unremitting  labour,  and  Maurice 
yet  saw  no  prospect  of  the  advancement  he  anticipated,  and  had  tasted 
none  of  the  pleasures  with  which  he  had  always  understood  London  to 
overflow.  His  masters  were  imperious,  and  reproved  him  in  unmea- 
sured terms  for  the  mistakes  into  which  he  was  led  by  entire  ignorance 
of  the  system  of  business ;  but  the  annoyances  he  experienced  from 
them  were  infrequent,  compared  with  those  he  received  from  his  fellow- 
labourers.  In  admitting  an  idea  so  novel  as  the  possibility  of  a  mere 
countryman  being  in  any  respect  superior  to  denizens  of  the  largest, 
most  smoky,  and  most  conceited  capital  in  the  world,  he  was,  as  it 
became  him,  modest ;  and  when  they  ridiculed  his  dress  or  his  provin- 
cialisms, he  strove  to  believe  their  taste  excellent,  and  their  language 
English. 

When  Mr.  Merivale  abolished  the  vacations  of  his  unfortunate  clerks, 
he  deeply  regretted  that  popular  opinion  compelled  him  to  let  them  be 
idle  all  Sunday ;  and  had  he  not,  on  other  grounds,  been  an  infidel,  he 
never  could  have  believed  that  a  deity  who  knew  anything  of  the  world 
would  have  been  so  regardless  of  the  interests  of  commerce  as  to  make 
fifty-two  days  in  every  year  unavailable  for  the  purposes  of  business. 


1830.]  The  Golden  City.  393 

Multiplying  fifty-two  by  ten,  he  found  five  hundred  and  twenty  days 
were  lost  to  him  annually.  Indeed  the  general  character  of  the  Sunday 
seemed  to  afford  him,  some  ground  for  considering  it  almost  useless  as  a 
religious  institution.  Not  that  he  objected  to  ministerial  dinners  and 
private  parties  on  that  day ;  but  he  thought  it  intolerable  that  the  lower 
classes,  for  whom  religion  was  certainly  invented,  should  neglect  the 
opportunity  afforded  them.  He  considered  it  obtaining  a  holiday  under 
false  pretences. 

Sunday,  therefore,  Maurice  had  at  his  own  disposal ;  and  though 
habit  sent  him  to  church  in  the  morning,  he  thought  fit,  in  the  afternoon, 
to  amuse  himself  by  walking  towards  the  West.  His  dress,  with  which 
he  had  taken  unusual  pains,  consisted  of  top-boots  and  drab  br — ch~s, 
a  red  waistcoat  striped  with  black,  and  a  black  neckcloth  with  red  spots, 
the  whole  surmounted  by  a  snuff-coloured  coat,  and  a  hat  of  prodigious 
extent :  nor  had  he  any  reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  the  attention  he 
excited.  After  encountering  a  few  trifling  accidents,  of  which  the  most 
important  were  spraining  his  ankle  by  slipping  off  the  pavement ;  losing 
his  handkerchief  he  knew  not  how;  having  his  hat  blown  off  by  an  unex- 
pected gust  of  wind  ;  and  his  foot  crushed  by  a  person  stepping  back 
upon  it ;  and  ensuring  a  tolerable  head-ache  by  coming  in  contact  with 
a  stout  fellow  who  was  walking  rapidly,  and,  like  himself,  looking 
another  way — he  at  length  entered  the  Park,  not  a  little  irritated  and 
fatigued.  Presently  he  came  to  an  oblong  sheet  of  water,  and  was  told 
it  was  the  Serpentine  ;  but  this  was  too  much  for  his  credulity,  and  he 
expressed  so  freely  his  opinion  of  his  informant's  veracity,  that  he  nar- 
rowly escaped  a  hostile  engagement. 

Continuing  to  walk  forward  among  stunted  trees,  he  now  saw  at  a 
distance  a  long  line  of  vehicles,  and  concluded,  as  they  seemed  to  be 
perfectly  stationary,  that  it  was  a  stand  of  hackney-coaches ;  but  as  he 
drew  nearer,  he  perceived  them  to  be  in  very  tardy  motion,  and  settled 
in  his  own  mind  that  it  was  the  funeral  of  some  distinguished  person. 
At  length  he  learned  the  true  nature  of  the  spectacle  ;  and  never  did 
his  ideas  of  London  receive  a  greater  shock,  than  when  he  was  given  to 
understand  that  this  melancholy  procession,  this  tortoise-hunt,  formed 
the  most  extatic  enjoyment  of  the  highest  classes,  to  whom  the  kindness 
of  fortune  had  opened  all  the  avenues  of  pleasure  ! 

In  the  midst  of  the  crowd  he  discovered  the  family  of  Mr.  James, 
and  thinking  he  could  do  no  less,  he  approached  the  carriage,  and 
offered  his  compliments  at  the  open  window,  but,  to  his  great  astonish- 
ment, they  did  not  recognize  him,  and,  with  a  stare  of  surprise,  drew 
up  the  glass.  As  he  returned  to  the  footpath,  he  encountered  a  party 
of  young  men  who  were  laughing  immoderately,  and  some  of  their 
expressions  which  reached  his  ear  explained  to  him  that  he  had  just 
undergone  a  very  marked  insult,  and  was  consequently  the  object  of 
general  derision.  His  feelings  were  not  very  comfortable;  he  could 
almost  have  wept  with  vexation,  and  growing  a  little  weary  of  pleasure, 
he  put  his  hand  to  his  watch  hoping  to  find  it  time  to  return  home, 
but  his  endeavour  to  find  the  seals  was  ineffectual ;  and  he  was  com- 
pelled to  admit  the  melancholy  conviction,  that  he  had  sustained  a  second 
loss  more  serious  than  the  preceding  one. 

In  his  way  home  he  encountered  the  friend  by  whose  kindness  he 
had  obtained  the  situation  he  held,  informed  him  of  his  misfortune,  and 
was  advised  how  to  act,  that  is,  to  do  nothing  at  all.  Proceeding  to 

M.M.  New  Scries.— VOL.  X.  No. 58.  3  D 


394  The  Golden  City.  [Ocr. 

inquire  after  the  family  of  his  relative,  he  learnt,  to  his  surprise,  that 
he  had  not  seen  them  very  lately.  To  his  questions  respecting  his  shop, 
his  gig,  and  his  cottage  at  Highgate,  his  answers  were  very  sparing  ; 
and  at  the  end  of  a  certain  street  he  bade  him  farewell,  nor  could  any 
persuasion  induce  him  to  extend  his  walk.  Maurice  observed  a  change 
in  him,  and  wondered  at  the  modesty  with  which  so  prosperous  and 
wealthy  a  tradesman  spoke  of  his  possessions ;  but  shortly  after,  his 
admiration  was  removed  by  learning  that  he  was  at  that  very  period 
enjoying  the  rules  of  the  Fleet  Prison. 

The  ensuing  week  afforded  him  one  of  those  commercial  miracles,  a  holi- 
day, of  human  institution.  The  great  question  among  his  companions 
was  how  to  make  the  mos£  of  it ;  and  it  was  finally  decided  that  a  party 
should  be  formed  to  row  up  the  river,  and  visit  one  of  the  theatres  in 
the  evening.  He  consented  to  share  in  the  excursion ;  and  as  all  the 
party  professed  themselves  expert  rowers,  and  scoffed  at  the  idea  of 
steering,  he  anticipated  very  great  pleasure. 

When  they  were  all  seated  in  an  eight-oared  boat,  it  was  discovered 
that  every  oar  was  in  the  wrong  place,  and  the  act  of  exchanging  pro- 
duced so  much  confusion,  and  so  many  disasters,  that  the  whole  crew 
were  completely  out  of  temper  before  the  voyage  was  commenced.  At 
length  they  made  way,  but  they  had  no  idea  of  keeping  time,  and  per- 
haps the  universe  did  not  afford  any  thing  more  ridiculous  than  the 
spectacle  they  exhibited,  dipping  their  oars  into  the  water  in  regular 
succession,  like  the  paddles  of  a  steam -packet,  and  looking  all  the  while 
exceedingly  earnest,  and  very  angry.  One  accused  another  of  not  row- 
ing, but  he  insisted  upon  it  that  he  did,  and  appealed  to  his  profuse 
perspiration,  and  hands  already  nearly  flayed.  The  steersman,  however, 
bore  the  blame  of  all  that  went  wrong,  and  after  undergoing  vehement 
censure  from  all  quarters,  surrendered  his  office  to  another  of  the  party, 
who  was  completely  exhausted  by  ten  minutes'  labour. 

But  his  successor  was  still  more  ignorant,  or  more  unfortunate,  and 
the  numberless  directions  given  him  puzzled  him  infinitely,  because 
those  who  gave  them  sometimes  remembered,  and  sometimes  forgot, 
that  their  right  was  his  left,  and  the  converse.  Once  he  steered  them 
against  a  barge,  then  against  a  bridge,  and,  finally,  having  spoilt  a 
wherry  match  near  the  Red  House,  he  was  so  much  irritated  by  the 
reproaches  showered  on  him,  that  he  insisted  on  being  put  on  shore. 
His  request  was  granted  with  many  sneers  and  much  laughter ;  but  he 
was  not  unrevenged,  for  as  his  companions  were  putting  off  again,  a 
bargeman  dashed  his  enormous  pole  into  the  river,  and  covered  them 
with  mud  and  water,  while  a  rope  carried  away  the  hat  of  one  of  them  ; 
and  he  could  obtain  no  other  satisfaction  for  the  injury  than  virulent 
abuse  for  being  a  cockney,  and  intimations  that,  one  day  or  another, 
he  would  meet  with  a  rope  productive  of  more  serious  consequences. 

It  had  been  fixed  that  the  party  should  re-assemble  at  the  lodgings  of 
one  of  them  in  the  evening.  There,  in  the  intervals  of  smoking,  they 
were  occupied  in  discussing  many  subjects  of  the  last  importance.  It 
was  astonishing  to  perceive  how  easily  they  determined  questions  in 
politics  and  religion,  on  which  other  wise  men  had  doubted  and  dis- 
puted for  ages.  Occasionally  they  descended  to  minor  topics  :  praised  an 
actress  to  whose  "  benefit"  they  had  received  an  order ;  spoke  of  fashions 
in  dress,  which  they  imagined  to  exist  at  the  other  end  of  the  town ; 
and  established  doctrines  of  etiquette  they  were  fortunate  enough  to 
overlook  in  practice. 


1830.]  The  Golden  Cily.  395 

They  now  adjourned  to  the  theatre,  and  reaching  it  half  an  hour 
before  the  commencement  of  half-price,  spent  the  interval  in  a  sepul- 
chral gallery,  listening  to  sounds  of  mysterious  import.  The  compa- 
nions of  Maurice  were  not,  however,  unoccupied,  for  with  commend- 
able forethought,  they  proceeded,  like  persons  preparing  for  an  expe- 
dition to  the  Pole,  to  lay  in  stores  of  provisions,  sufficient,  if  properly 
economized,  to  last  them  a  year  or  two.  But  ere  many  minutes  had 
elapsed,  their  resolution  failed  them,  and  first  one,  and  then  another, 
released  from  his  distended  pocket  an  apple,  an  orange,  or  a  biscuit  ; 
and  then  ensued  a  scene  of  great  variety,  accompanied  by  sounds  which 
seemed  sufficient  to  maintain  the  principle  of  suction  against  all  philo- 
sophy. 

When  the  first  rage  of  appetite  had  subsided,  they  began  to  pelt  each 
other  with  orange-peel,  and  practise  many  other  witty  jokes,  far  above 
the  capacity  of  country  people.  But  the  greatest  mirth  was  excited  by 
one  of  them  knocking  off  the  hat  of  his  neighbour,  from  which  there  fell 
a  handkerchief,  a  pair  of  gloves,  two  oranges,  a  cigar  and  a  half,  a  bill 
of  the  play,  and  some  biscuits  :  a  feat  which  the  sufferer  took  very  easily; 
and  while  he  replaced  the  rest  of  his  possessions,  politely  offered  Mau- 
rice one  of  the  biscuits  which  had  been  broken  by  the  fall.  At  length 
the  third  act  concluded,  and  the  doors  being  opened,  the  expectant  mul- 
titude rushed  with  useless  eagerness  towards  the  crowded  pit. 

In  the  midst,  however,  of  the  crush  and  vapour,  Maurice  perceived 
a  vacant  standing-place,  and  hastily  occupying  it,  looked  with  an  air  of 
triumph  at  his  companions  ;  but,  while  he  was  at  the  height  of  his  self- 
gratulation,  a  good-natured  person  advised  him  to  take  off  his  hat, 
whichj  on  examination,  he  found  covered  with  the  droppings  of  a  candle 
placed  above.  Then  one  of  the  gods  thought  proper  to  send  down  a 
glass  bottle  on  the  heads  of  those  below ;  fortunately  it  alighted  on  that 
man  whose  comprehensive  hat  was  before  mentioned. 

Maurice,  overpowered  perhaps  by  the  odour  of  gas  and  the  exha- 
lations of  human  bodies  densely  crowded  together,  thought  it  just  such 
a  play  as  he  had  seen  performed  in  the  country,  and  though  the  theatre 
was  huge,  and  the  performers  more  elegant,  the  superiority  was  not  so 
striking  as  he  expected.  Nor  could  he  disguise  it  from  himself  that 
there  were  many  points  in  the  representation  more  vulgar  and  wicked 
than  he  should  have  supposed  so  brilli-.nt  an  assemblage  would  tolerate, 
especially  as  he  had  been  informed  of  the  notable  fact,  that,  a  little  time 
before,  a  celebrated  performer  had  been  hissed  off  the  stage,  because  he 
had  been  found  guilty  of  a  breach  of  the  seventh  commandment — a 
circumstance  which  had  struck  him  forcibly,  and  naturally  led  him  to 
conclude,  that,  as  known  adulterers  were  not  only  endured  but  courted 
in  every  other  department  of  public  life,  the  stage  must  be  superior  to 
them  in  morality  and  decorum ;  nor  did  it  then  occur  to  him  to  con- 
sider it  as  a  mark  of  detestable  hypocrisy  in  the  age,  and  of  petty 
tyranny  in  a  vicious  public  over  those  on  whom  three-and-sixpence  gave 
them  the  power  of  censure. 

He  had  not,  however,  a  complete  opportunity  of  judging  on  the 
merits  of  London  theatricals,  for  while  he  was  almost  stunned  with  the 
applause  lately  bestowed  on  a  double  entendre,  and  now  given  to  a 
sentiment  of  preposterous  national  vanity,  his  arm  was  seized  by  a  spec- 
tator, who,  having  lost  his  handkerchief,  charged  him  with  the  theft, 
and  committed  him  to  the  custody  of  an  officer,  thus  putting  a  suitable 
conclusion  to  the  pleasures  of  the  day. 

3  D  2 


396  The  Golden  City.  [OCT. 

The  next  morning,  Maurice  was  brought  forward  in  a  public  charac- 
ter as  a  prisoner  at  a  police-office,  whither  he  was  conveyed  in  company 
with  the  lowest  and  most  abandoned  of  his  species.  But  it  happened 
that  the  prosecutor,  having  discovered  that  one  of  his  own  friends  had 
taken  his  handkerchief  in  jest,  did  not  think  proper  to  appear,  and  he 
was  accordingly  dismissed,  with  an  insolent  congratulation  from  the 
magistrate  on  his  narrow  escape  from  transportation.  But  though  the 
spectators  considered  him  the  more  guilty  from  his  happily  escaping  all 
proof  of  his  guilt,  our  noble  and  excellent  law,  generously  acknowledg- 
ing his  innocence,  fined  him  for  it  the  sum  of  one  shilling,  and  with 
reluctance  dismissed  him  from  her  close  embrace. 

When,  late  in  the  day,  he  returned  home  in  considerable  discomfort, 
but  with  some  satisfaction  at  the  prospect  of  relief,  he  was  surprised  to 
find  the  house  completely  closed,  and  impregnable  to  his  attacks. 
However,  the  sound  he  created  drew  together  some  of  the  neighbours, 
who  talked  a  great  deal,  and  disputed  for  an  hour  whether  it  was  a 
hanging  matter  to  break  open  a  house.  In  the  end,  Maurice  himself 
forced  an  entrance,  and  was  astonished  to  find  no  traces  of  inhabitants 
or  of  furniture,  nor  even  a  single  relic  of  his  own  possessions.  It 
appeared  that  the  tenants  had  packed  up  and  departed  quietly  in  the 
night ;  but  the  neighbours  were  too  much  used  to  such  occurrences  to 
exhibit  the  smallest  surprise  or  disapprobation  ;  and,  with  the  exception 
of  one  man,  who  loudly  execrated  their  conduct,  and  carried  off  two 
bell  ropes,  lest  they  should  be  stolen  by  any  one  else,  they  all  departed 
in  peaceable  horror  at  the  idea  of  interference. 

The  loss  of  his  wardrobe  was  of  little  consequence  to  Maurice  com- 
pared with  that  of  his  hundred  pounds,  which  he  had  left,  as  he 
thought,  perfectly  secure  in  a  very  curiously  constructed  drawer  of  his 
writing-desk,  not  at  all  considering  that  the  desk,  drawer  and  all,  might 
be  carried  off  at  one  fell  swoop.  Overwhelmed  with  distress  and  per- 
plexity, and  knowing  of  no  friend  to  whom  he  might  apply  for  counsel, 
he  resolved  to  have  recourse  to  the  advice  of  his  fellow  clerks,  but  on 
arriving  at  the  office,  he  found  every  thing  in  extreme  confusion,  and  in 
answer  to  his  oft-repeated  inquiries,  was  informed  that  one  of  the  part- 
ners had  left  the  country  without  notice,  that  it  was  up  with  the  concern, 
and  that  all  connected  with  it  must  begin  life  afresh,  each  as  he  could. 

This  was  too  much,  and  Maurice  almost  sank  under  a  blow,  which 
seemed  equivalent  to  absolute  beggary.  He  advertised  in  the  news- 
papers, and  generally  found  his  half-guinea  statement  crowded  into  a 
supplementary  sheet,  amidst  columns  of  applications  from  young  men, 
who  seemed  to  have  every  possible  merit,  and  yet  in  many  instances 
were  contented  with  mere  nominal  salaries,  or  anxious  only  for  employ- 
ment. Finding  these  methods  wholly  ineffectual,  he  had  recourse  to 
personal  applications,  but  generally  met  with  so  much  cruelty  and  ridi- 
cule, that  he  considered  himself  happy  in  a  civil  repulse.  At  length, 
however,  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to  procure  the  office  of  shopman  at  a 
haberdasher's,  and  continued  in  it  for  three  months,  very  wretched,  and 
very  hard- worked,  till  being  unjustly  suspected  of  secreting  a  parcel, 
he  was  dismissed  without  payment  of  his  salary,  and  threatened  with  the 
infliction  of  that  admirable  English  justice,  which  is  always  more  ready 
to  hang  an  innocent  man,  than  a  known  murderer  whose  name  has  been 
misspelt  in  the  indictment. 

In  this  state  of  things  he  found,  as  if  by  a  strange  fatality,  several 
situations  vacant ;  but  the  inquiry  as  to  his  character  was  always  fatal. 


1830.]  The  Golden  City.  397 

To  return  to  Mr.  Johnson  seemed  impossible :  every  succeeding  day 
added  to  his  despair.  At  length  his  feelings  became  intolerable  ;  and 
he  had  actually  repaired  to  London  Bridge  with  the  fixed  determination 
of  committing  suicide,  when  he  was  kindly  accosted  by  a  passer-by, 
who  had  observed  his  agitation  and  suspected  his  purpose. 

The  first  words  of  interest  which  he  had  heard  for  many  weeks, 
deeply  affected  him  j  and  inquiry  easily  drew  from  him  the  detail  of 
his  circumstances.  The  benevolent  stranger  listened  with  attention,  and 
instead  of  passing  on  with  expressions  of  pity,  seemed  bent  on  befriend- 
ing him  more  effectually  j  gave  him  a  small  sum  of  money  for  his  imme- 
diate necessities  ;  and  promising,  if  he  found  his  statement  true,  to  meet 
him  on  the  ensuing  evening,  departed. 

At  the  hour  and  place  agreed  upon,  both  kept  the  appointment. 

"  I  have  to  congratulate  you,"  said  Warren  (for  that  was  the  strang- 
er's name)  ;  "  I  have  called  on  your  late  master,  and  have  ascertained 
the  removal  of  all  suspicion  against  you :  the  offender  was  his  own 
son." 

"  God  bless  you !"  exclaimed  Maurice,  eagerly ;  "  then  I  may  yet 
hope  ?" 

"  Certainly,  if  you  mean  to  obtain  another  situation  in  London  ;  but 
I  should  rather  advise  you  to  return  to  your  relative." 

"  It  is  impossible :  he  will  refuse  to  receive  me." 

ft  If  he  does,  you  are  no  worse  than  at  present ;  but  he  may  relent ;  it 
is  worth  the  trial." 

"  But  might  I  not  succeed  here  ?  Surely  there  have  been  in- 
stances  " 

"  Of  splendid  success  ?  Yes ;  but,  compared  with  the  cases  of  deplo- 
rable failure,  they  have  been  as  one  to  infinity.  To  rise  unassisted  from 
a  subordinate  situation,  is  a  miracle ;  to  remain  in  it,  a  better  sort  of 
slavery.  Take  my  own  case,  which  is  a  favourable  one  :  I  have  been 
thirty  years  in  a  merchant's  office  ;  I  labour  nearly  twelve  hours  in  the 
day,  and  receive  two  hundred  a  year.  As  to  a  week's  vacation,  I  might 
as  well  resign  as  ask  for  it;  and  probably  the  mere  mention  would  lead 
my  employers  to  exercise  that  power  which  they  know  to  be  despotic 
over  a  man  with  six  children,  destitute  of  all  other  resource." 

Maurice  expressed  his  acquiescence. 

"  Fortunes,"  continued  Warren,  "  have  unquestionably  been  made 
suddenly,  but  generally  at  an  immense  risk,  and  often  by  disgraceful 
means." 

"  It  was  not  the  desire  of  wealth  only  that  made  me  leave  the  coun- 
try ;  I  had  heard  the  pleasures  of  London  extolled." 

"  The  pleasures  of  London  !  What  pleasures  has  it  which  cannot  be 
better  enjoyed  elsewhere  ?  I  leave  out  of  the  question  those  persons  who 
spend  a  few  months  of  the  year  in  the  metropolis,  for  to  them  change 
and  the  power  of  choice  may  give  enjoyment ;  but  to  those  who  inhabit 
it  regularly,  it  is  the  most  miserable  place  in  the  creation.  Probably, 
you  had  heard  a  great  deal  of  the  theatres  ;  but,  as  far  as  my  own  obser- 
vation extends,  there  are  very  few  Londoners  who  visit  them  twice  a 
year  ;  and,  for  my  own  part,  I  have  not  done  so  for  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury. The  only  pure  pleasures  of  life  are,  domestic  intercourse,  litera- 
ture, and  religion  j  and  what  scene  can  be  more  unfavourable  to  either 
of  them,  than  a  noisy  mass  of  crowded  buildings  ?" 

"  But  those  buildings  are  beautiful." 

"  The  beauty  of  a  scene  of  labour  is  absolutely  nothing  to  a  man's 
happiness :  a  gardener  is  not  a  whit  happier  than  a  collier ;  what  a  man 


390  The  Golden  Cily.  [OcT. 

sees  every  day  he  thinks  nothing  of;  and  millions   pass  the  Monument 
daily,  without  more  notice  than  they  would  bestow  on  a  watch-house." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right ;  for  the  inhabitants  of  London  seem  to  leave 
it  as  often  as  they  can.  Yet,  certainly,  all  classes  of  men  are  richer  here 
than  in  the  country  ?" 

"  A  very  common  mistake:  London  is  the  poorest  place  in  England, 
and  half  the  splendour  you  see  is  rotten — the  pride  which  goes  before 
destruction.  All  live  up  to  their  income,  and  thousands  beyond  it, 
almost  from  necessity." 

"  I  will  return,  certainly,  and  throw  myself  on  the  mercy  of  Mr. 
Johnson." 

"  Do  so :  own  that  you  have  been  wrong ;  and  when,  in  future,  you 
see  any  one  dreaming  of  wealth  and  grandeur,  and  quitting  certainty 
for  hope,  tell  him  your  own  experience :  if  he  has  nothing,  let  him  come 
to  London ;  but  if  he  is  provided  for  at  home,  advise  him  to  stay  there ; 
and  assure  him  that,  if  here  he  may  find  a  larger  carcase,  he  will  also 
find  a  far  greater  number  of  eagles." 

"  I  will  write  to  Mr.  Johnson  immediately,"  said  Maurice. 

"  By  no  means,"  replied  Warren.  "  If  you  have  any  favour  to  seek, 
always  make  a  personal  application ;  it  is  much  more  difficult  to  refuse 
than  a  written  one,  and  it  must  be  answered  one  way  or  another." 

Maurice  took,  with  much  gratitude,  the  advice  so  kindly  offered  him, 
and  the  same  evening  set  out  for  his  native  town.  His  pride,  which 
had  yielded  to  arguments  enforced  by  immediate  distress,  returned  as 
the  prospect  of  humiliation  approached  more  nearly  ;  and  when  he  was 
set  down  at  the  Castle  inn,  he  had  almost  resolved  to  return  again  to  the 
metropolis.  But  it  happened  that,  in  taking  up  a  local  newspaper,  an 
advertisement  met  his  eye,  which  turned  his  thoughts  into  another  chan- 
nel. It  was  one  of  those  extravagant  scholastic  annunciations  which 
excite  at  once  pity  and  contempt :  the  boys  were  to  be  taught  with 
miraculous  exactness  and  celerity,  and  no  vacations  were  given  but  at 
the  option  of  the  parents.  The  name  of  the  principal  was  Merivale ; 
and  all  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  the  person  was  removed  by  his  seeing 
him,  shortly  afterwards,  pass  the  window,  shabbily  dressed,  and  driving 
before  him  two  or  three  boys  not  his  superiors  in  appearance. 

It  is  needless  to  explain  how  his  feelings  were  affected  by  the  spec- 
tacle of  a  man,  bred  up  in  ease  and  affluence,  reduced  to  the  adoption  of 
a  profession  than  which  there  was  none  more  laborious,  and  few  for 
which  he  could  have  been  more  unqualified.  He  proceeded  with  humi- 
lity and  alacrity  to  the  house  of  his  relative,  freely  avowed  his  circum- 
stances, and  met  with  less  severity  than  he  anticipated.  The  anger  of 
Mr.  Johnson  could  not  be  very  inveterate  against  a  man  who  came  to  tell 
him  he  was  right,  and  to  admit  himself  a  fool  in  having  ever  differed 
from  him. 

It  remained  for  him  to  make  his  peace  in  another  quarter;  and  when 
he  again  saw  Juliet,  he  was  enabled,  by  a  more  extended  knowledge  of 
the  world,  to  do  justice  to  her  merits.  If  she  wanted  the  refinements, 
she  wanted  also  the  vices  of  the  town.  She  was  not  elegant  nor  fashion- 
able ;  but  neither  was  she  affected  and  vain,  or  addicted  to  filthy  and 
tawdry  finery ;  and  her  appearance  had  all  those  graces  which  peculiarly 
belong  to  health  and  nature.  In  short,  running,  as  he  was  wont,  into 
extremes,  he  began  to  admire  those  very  defects  he  had  once  despised  ; 
and  having  conceived  a  strong  disgust  for  the  Golden  City,  he  consigned 
it  to  utter  detestation,  hated  all  that  reminded  him  of  it,  and  was  really 
happy  in  having  escaped  the  fulfilment  of  his  most  anxious  wish. 


1830.]  [    399    ] 

*'•'        JOHN    GALT    AND    LORD    BYHON.* 

EVERY  man  his  own  biographer  would  be  the  beau  ideal  of  biography. 
We  should  have  a  vast  deal  of  vanity,  of  course ;  a  vast  deal  of  hypo- 
crisy, and  a  vast  deal  of  that  gentle  coloured  fiction,  which  the  novelists 
term  white  lies — we  might  have  some  of  a  deeper  tinge  too.  But  we 
should  have,  on  the  whole,  a  vast  deal  of  human  nature,  which  is  the 
grand  desideratum  after  all. 

One  of  the  phenomena  in  that  most  curious  of  all  phenomena 
— man,  is,  that  in  talking  of  himself,  long  disguise  is  impossible.  He 
may  have  the  happiest  art  of  covering  the  truth  in  other  instances,  or  the 
strongest  reasons  for  distorting  it  in  his  own,  but  let  the  dissembler 
write  half  a  dozen  pages,  and  we  find  the  truth  forcing  its  way,  the  true 
features  are  seen  through  the  mask,  or  the  paint  rubs  off  by  the  wear 
and  tear  of  moments;  or  he  grows  tired  of  the  masquerade,  flings  down 
his  domino,  flies  out  of  the  artificial  light  into  the  real,  and  gives  his 
natural  visage  to  the  inspection  of  mankind.  It  is  for  this  reason,  that 
we  scorn  all  Memoirs  by  a  friend — Recollections  by  a  near  observer — 
Sketches  by  one  in  the  habit  of  intercourse  for  many  years — and  all  the 
other  inventions  of  graceful  titles,  to  tell  us  that  the  writer  knows  nothing 
of  his  subject. 

But  the  affair  is  different  in  the  present  instance,  and  next  to  a  biogra- 
phy from  the  pen  of  Lord  Byron  himself,  we  should  probably  wish  to 
see  a  detail  such  as  Mr.  Gait  could  have  furnished,  if  it  had  occurred 
to  him  at  an  earlier  period  to  make  use  of  his  opportunities.  He  is  well 
known  as  a  novelist ;  he  is  a  poet,  has  been  a  traveller  and  writer  of 
travels,  and  we  should  conceive  from  the  pleasantness  and  facility  of  his 
present  volume,  from  his  quickness  in  seizing  the  peculiarities  of  Byron's 
wayward  character,  and  his  picturesque  skill  in  giving  them  clearly  and 
gracefully  to  the  world,  that  he  would  be  as  successful  in  the  romance 
of  real  life,  as  in  the  romance  of  fiction. 

To  the  actual  history  of  Byron's  career,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that 
much  addition  was  in  Mr.  Gait's  power.  And  we  are  by  no  means 
sorry  to  escape  the  eternal  stories  of  his  boyhood,  his  friendship  and 
quarrels,  his  bufferings  with  Rice-pudding  Morgan,  and  the  other  brats 
of  his  school :  combats  which  Byron  used  to  triumph  in,  "  through 
many  a  thrice  told  tale,"  with  a  silly  affectation  of  precocious  valour. 
But  the  present  biographer  has  given  the  only  traits  of  those  times 
which  can  interest  the  reader,  and  spiritedly  touched  on  the  probable 
sources  of  his  love  for  loneliness,  his  early  conception  of  natural  gran- 
deur, and  his  original  reluctance  to  mingle  with  the  pleasant  and  intelli- 
gent scenes  of  the  lower  world.  Byron  was  undoubtedly  a  little  mad. 
His  mother  was  mad  by  misfortune,  his  father  by  vice,  and  his  uncle  by 
nature.  There  was  a  floating  lunacy  in  every  propensity  of  his  mind, 
and  when  he,  at  last,  entered  public  life,  every  event  tended  to  establish 
the  fluctuation  into  settled  frenzy.  Of  all  the  poor  and  unhappy  of  the 
earth,  the  most  tormented  must  be  a  poor  nobleman.  Others  may  take 
refuge  in  a  profession,  he  has  none  but  the  poorest,  the  army,  open  to 
him,  unless  he  can  reconcile  himself  to  the  life  of  a  country  churchman- 
curate,  tithe-gatherer,  christener,  buryer,  and  all — and  be  prepared  to 
slip  out  of  the  world's  memory  till  he  slips  into  his  grave  ;  for,  with  all 
the  vigour  of  patronage  we  never  heard  of  a  lord  rising  to  a  mitre. 

*  The  Life  of  Lord  Byron",  by  John  Gait,  Esq.  London  :  Colburn  and  Bentley. — 
No.  1,  National  Library. 


400  John  Gait  and  Lord  Byron.  [Ocpr, 

Byron  had  to  struggle  with  poverty  embittered  by  pride,  pride  em- 
bittered by  scorn  on  his  descent,  scorn  pointed  by  personal  deformity,  and 
personal  deformity  embittered  by  an  almost  female  vanity  of  being  distin- 
guished as  a  beauty ;  for  his  ringlets  cost  him  as  much  trouble  as  his  poetry, 
and  the  smallness  and  whiteness  of  his  hands  were  his  favourite  patent 
of  nobility.  His  entree  into  the  House  of  Lords  was  greeted  by  the 
rough  ceremony  of  compelling  him  to  prove  that  his  father  was  born  in 
wedlock,  and  his  first  attempt  at  literature  was  plunged  in  the  ice-bath 
of  the  Edinburgh  Review. 

So  much  for  the  education  of  this  child  of  spleen.  His  first  lessons 
were  to  shun  mankind,  his  second  to  hate  them,  and  his  third  to  insult, 
scorn,  and  satirize  them,  and  it  must  be  owned  that  misanthropy  never 
had  a  more  devoted  pupil. 

Mr.  Gait's  first  meeting  with  the  noble  poet  was  accidental.  "  It 
was  at  Gibraltar  that  I  first  fell  in  with  Lord  Byron.  I  had  arrived 
there  in  the  packet  from  England  in  indifferent  health,  on  my  way  to 
Sicily.  I  only  went  a  trip,  intending  to  return  home  after  spending  a 
few  weeks  in  Malta,  Sicily,  and  Sardinia ;  having,  before  my  departure, 
entered  into  the  Society  of  Lincoln's-inn,  with  the  design  of  studying 
the  law. 

ff  At  this  time,  my  friend,  the  late  Colonel  Wright,  was  Secretary  to 
the  Governor,  and  during  the  short  stay  of  the  packet  at  the  Rock,  he 
invited  me  to  the  hospitalities  of  his  house,  and  among  other  civilities, 
gave  me  admission  to  the  garrison  library. 

"  The  day,  I  well  remember,  was  exceedingly  sultry.  The  air  was 
sickly,  and  if  it  was  not  a  sirocco,  it  was  a  withering  Levanter,  oppressive 
to  the  functions  of  life,  and  to  an  invalid,  denying  all  exercise  ;  instead 
of  rambling  over  the  fortifications,  I  was,  in  consequence,  constrained  to 
spend  the  hottest  part  of  the  day  in  the  library,  and,  while  sitting  there, 
a  young  man  came  in,  and  seated  himself  opposite  to  me  at  the  table 
where  I  was  reading.  Something  in  his  appearance  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. His  dress  indicated  a  Londoner  of  some  fashion,  partly  by  its 
neatness  and  simplicity,  with  just  so  much  of  a  peculiarity  of  style  as 
served  to  shew,  that  though  he  belonged  to  the  order  of  metropolitan 
beaux,  he  was  not  altogether  a  common  one. 

"  I  thought  his  face  not  unknown  to  me.  I  began  to  conjecture 
where  I  could  have  seen  him,  and  after  an  unobserved  scrutiny,  to 
speculate  as  to  both  his  character  and  his  vacation.  His  physiognomy 
was  prepossessing  and  intelligent,  but  ever  and  anon  his  brows  lowered 
and  gathered,  a  habit,  as  I  then  thought,  with  a  degree  of  affectation  in 
improbably  first  assumed  for  picturesque  effect  and  energetic  expression ; 
but  which  I  afterwards  discovered,  was  undoubtedly  the  occasional 
scowl  of  some  unpleasant  reminiscences :  it  was  certainly  disagreeable, 
forbidding ;  but  still  the  general  cast  of  his  features  was  impressed  with 
elegance  and  character." 

At  dinner,  Mr.  Gait  partially  made,  by  the  help  of  "  Tom  Sheridan," 
the  discovery  of  the  "  mysterious  man  with  the  knitted  brows/7  Lord 
Byron  and  Mr.  Hobhouse  were  mentioned  as  having  arrived  in  the 
packet.  Still,  however,  the  problem  was  incomplete.  He  had  not  seen 
either  before,  and  the  grand  difficulty  was  to  know  which  was  the  true 
Simon  Pure.  Nay,  he  would  not  be  certain  but  that  Mr.  Cam  Hobhouse, 
on  whose  poems  he  pronounces  the  fatal  verdict  of  being  "  rather  re- 
spectable in  their  way," — one  of  the  most  long-drawn  tortures  that  we  can 
conceive  to  be  inflicted  in  the  cruelty  of  criticism — that  the  irritable 


1830.]  John  Gait  and  Lord  Byron.  401 

writer  of  those  respectable  poems  might  himself  be  the  mysterious  man 
with  the  scowl.  However,  the  solution  was  expeditious,,  and  happily 
complete. 

"  On  the  following  evening  I  embarked  early,  and  soon  after,  the  two 
travellers  came  on  board ;  in  one  of  whom  I  recognized  the  visitor  to 
the  library,  and  he  proved  to  be  Lord  Byron.  In  the  little  bustle  and 
process  of  embarking  their  luggage,  his  lordship  affected,  as  it  seemed 
to  me,  more  aristocracy  than  befitted  his  years  or  the  occasion,  and  I 
then  thought  of  his  scowl,  and  suspected  him  of  pride  and  irascibility. 
The  impression  that  evening  was  not  agreeable,  but  it  was  interesting, 
and  that  forehead-mark,  the  frown,  was  calculated  to  awaken  curiosity, 
and  to  beget  conjectures/' 

We  must  do  Mr.  Gait  the  justice  to  say  that  no  man  could  have  made 
more  of  a  frown.  However,  the  rest  is  more  to  our  taste. 

f<  Hobhouse,  with  more  of  the  commoner  (and  Mr.  Gait  might  have 
added,  '  with  more  of  the  gentleman'),  made  himself  one  of  the  passen- 
gers at  once,  but  Byron  held  himself  aloof,  and  sat  on  the  rail,  leaning 
on  the  mizen  shrouds,  imbibing,  as  it  were,  poetical  sympathy  from  the 
gloomy  rock,  then  dark  and  stern  in  the  twilight.  (Ten  to  one  he  was 
sick.)  There  was  in  all  about  him  that  evening  much  waywardness, 
he  spoke  petulantly  to  Fletcher,  his  valet,  and  was  evidently  ill  at  ease 
with  himself,  and  fretful  towards  others.  I  thought  he  would  turn  out 
an  unsatisfactory  shipmate,  yet  there  was  something  redeeming  in  the 
tones  of  his  voice,"  &c. 

Byron  took  three  days  to  come  round  and  look  human.  "  About  the 
third  day  he  relented  from  his  rapt  mood,  as  if  he  felt  it  was  out  of 
place,  and  became  playful."  They  then  went  to  shooting  at  bottles 
overboard,  Byron  was  "  not  pre-eminently  the  best  shot."  They  caught 
a  shark,  and  had  a  steak  of  him  broiled  for  breakfast.  Mr.  Gait  does  not 
tell  us  how  the  others  liked  it,  but,  for  his  own  part,  he  considered  it 
"  but  a  cannibal  dainty." 

There  is  rather  too  much  of  this  minuteness  in  the  book ;  but  on  the 
general  character  of  Byron's  mind,  tastes,  life,  loves,  and  poetry,  his 
biographer  gives  a  good  deal  of  new  and  true  remark.  In  one  instance 
he  charges  the  poet  with  plagiarism  "from  Mr. Gait,"  probably  true  enough, 
for  he  plundered  wherever  he  could,  without  the  slightest  ceremony  in 
the  appropriation,  and,  odd  as  the  matter  may  be,  the  suspicion  is  ren- 
dered more  probable,  by  his  protesting  that  "  Mr.  Gait  is  the  last  person 
on  earth  from  whom  any  one  would  think  of  taking  anything," — an  im- 
pudent and  insulting  scoff,  which  the  biographer  has  the  heroism,  or  the 
simplicity,  to  give  to  the  world. 

The  story  of  the  Guiccioli  is  given  j  but  Mr.  Gait  should  have  felt  it 
due  to  his  own  character  to  pronounce  this  a  base  and  profligate  con- 
nection, and  to  stamp  with  the  scorn  they  deserve  the  contemptible 
family  who  could  see  one  of  their  number  thus  living  in  open  adultery 
with  any  man.  But  we  take  it  for  granted  that  the  gentlemen  got  their 
stipend,  and  the  lady  her  hire,  regularly  by  the  month. 

One  fragment  of  character  is  still  worth  recording.  We  hope  that  it 
may  figure  in  some  historic  picture  of  the  new  school  of  feeling.  When 
that  miserable  man,  Shelley,  was  drowned,  the  surviving  partners  of 
the  "  Liberal"  met  to  give  him  a  classic  burial.  The  performance  was 
quite  poetic:  open  shore,  resounding  sea,  distant  forest,  murmuring 
waves,  solemn  strand,  broad  sun-bright  waves,  the  "  majesty  of  nature," 

M.M.  Nerv  Series.—Voi..  X.  No.  58.  3  E 


402  John  Gait  and  Lord  Byron.  QOcT. 

and  so  forth,  all  in  full  dress.  To  bury  the  miserable  remains  was  out 
of  the  question ;  the  ceremony  must  be  pagan,  and  they  burned  him, 
like  an  honest  and  plain-spoken  Pagan  as  he  was.  Mr.  Gait  describes 
the  concluding  ceremony  as  giving  a  fine  finish  to  the  ceremonial. 

"  Those  antique  obsequies  were  undoubtedly  affecting;  but  the  return 
of  the  mourners  from  the  burning  is  the  most  appalling  orgic,  without 
the  horror  of  crime,  of  which  I  have  ever  heard.  When  the  duty  was 
done,  and  the  ashes  collected,  they  dined  and  drank  much,  and  bursting 
together  from  the  calm  mastery  with  which  they  had  repressed  their 
feelings — (fudge,  Mr.  Gait !) — -during  the  solemnity,  gave  way  to  frantic 
exultation. 

"  They  were  all  drunk;  they  sung,  they  shouted,  and  their  barouche 
was  driven  like  a  whirlwind  through  the  forest.  I  can  conceive  nothing 
descriptive  of  the  demoniac  revelry  of  that  flight,  but  scraps  of  the 
dead  man's  own  song  of  Faust,  Mephistophelis,  and  Ignis-fatuus,  in 
alternate  chorus." 

All  this  is  true,  and  the  biographer  talks  properly  on  so  odious  a 
subject.  We  think  too  his  illustration  by  the  rhymes  is  quite  appropriate. 
As  nothing  can  be  a  fitter  illustration  of  frenzy  in  fact  than  nonsense  in 
rhyme ;  for  example — 

"  The  giant-snouted  crags,  ho,  ho ! 
How  they  snort,  and  how  they  blow  ! 

"  The  way  is  wide,  the  way  is  long ; 
But  what  is  that  for  a  Bedlam  throng  ? 
Some  on  a  ram,  and  some  on  a  prong, 
On  poles  and  on  broomsticks  we  flutter  along  ! 

"  Honour  to  her  to  whom  honour  is  due — 
Old  Mother  Baubo,  honour  to  you  ! 
An  able  sow,  with  old  Baubo  upon  her, 
Is  worthy  of  glory,  and  worthy  of  honour  !" 

We  think  this  monstrous  stuff  quite  the  suitable   epitaph,  and  regret 
that  the  bones  were  burned. 

As  to  the  "Liberal,"  which  was  projected  by  Shelley's  atheist  malig- 
nity, Hunt's  poverty,  and  Byron's  avarice,  the  biographer  properly 
pronounces  it  to  have  been  a  most  degrading  transaction : — 

"  There  is  no  disputing  the  fact,  that  his  lordship,  in  conceiving  the 
plan  of  the  '  Liberal,'  was  actuated  by  sordid  motives,  and  of  the 
basest  kind,  as  the  popularity  of  the  work  was  to  rest  on  the  art  of  de- 
traction. Being  disappointed  in  his  hopes  of  profit,  he  shuffled  out  of 
the  concern  as  meanly  as  any  higgler  could  have  done  who  found  him- 
self in  a  profitless  business  with  a  disreputable  partner." 

All  true  enough ;  though  even  this  candour  does  not  reconcile  us  to 
Mr.  Gait's  praises  of  his  lordship's  tragedies.  The  public  have  already 
stamped  them  irrevocably  as  dull,  as  having  no  dramatic  power  about 
them,  and  as  greatly  tending  to  that  falling-off  of  fame,  of  which  Byron 
so  keenly  complains  in  his  correspondence  with  his  bookseller,  and 
which  was  clearly  the  principal  cause  of  driving  him  to  his  giddy  and 
Quixotic  expedition  to  Greece.  However,  the  volume  is  interesting ;  it 
gives  all  that  we  can  expect  to  know  of  the  poet,  or,  perhaps,  all  that 
could  be  known  without  diving  into  matters  that  might  be  better  kept 
concealed.  The  work  begins  the  "  National  Library"  well,  and  under 
the  conduct  of  its  popular  and  intelligent  editor,  Mr.  Gleig,  and  with 
its  active  publishers,  we  augur  very  favourably  of  the  enterprise. 


1830.]  [   ;403 


LIGHT    AND    SHADOW. 


All  that's  bright  must  fatle." 


ALAS  !  that  early  Love  should  fly; 
That  Friendship's  self  should  fade  arid  die, 
And  glad  hearts  pine  with  cankering  fears, 
And  starry  eyes  grow  dim  with  tears ! 
For  years  are  sad  and  withering  things, 
And  Sorrow  lingers,  and  Joy  has  wings  ; 
And  Winter  steals  into  sunny  bowers, 
And  Time's  dull  footstep  treads  on  flowers ; 
And  the  waters  of  life  flow  deep  and  fast, 
And  they  bear  to  the  sorrowful  grave  at  last. 

There  were  two  young  hearts  that  were  twins  in  love, 

As  pure  as  the  passion  that  lives  above; 

Two  flowers  were  they  on  a  single  stem, 

And  the  world  was  the  Garden  of  Eden  to  them ; 

And  all  things  looked  bright  in  the  morning  beam, 

And  life  was  as  sweet  as  an  angel's  dream ; — 

But  death  has  a  stern  and  a  pitiless  heart, 

And  the  nearest  and  dearest  at  length  must  part. 

The  Dark  One  came,  with  his  fatal  eye, 

And  the  fairest  faded  as  he  drew  nigh ; 

And  her  pure  soul  passed  from  its  dwelling  away, 

And  her  beauty  was  changed  into  mouldering  clay. 

Jt  was  a  fearful  sight  to  see 

The  one  that  was  left  in  his  misery, 

As  he  gazed  with  a  stedfast  eye  on  the  dead, 

Watching  her  charms  as  they  faded  and  fled  ! 

For  the  beauty  of  death  soon  passes  away, 

When  touched  by  the  withering  hand  of  decay. 

First,  she  looked  lovely,  as  if  in  sleep; 

Then,  a  rigid  and  marble  look  did  creep 

O'er  her  breathless  form  with  a  stealthy  pace, 

And  her  shrunk  limbs  lost  their  languid  grace — 

The  placid  languor  of  deep  repose, 

When  slumber  sinks  down  after  music's  close  ; 

And  the  tender  blush  her  cheek  forsook, 

And  her  features  a  stony  stiffness  took  ; 

And  her  dim  eyes  sunk,  and  their  beauty  was  o'er, 

And  her  sweet  lips  settled,  to  charm  no  more. 


His  dreary  life  still  holds  him  fast, 
Like  a  chain  around  a  prisoner  cast ; 
For  those  who  long  to  die,  live  on, 
When  all  that  made  life  dear  is  gone. 

J.  R.  O. 


3  E  2 


[    404    ]  [OCT. 

THE  MUSING  MUSICIAN. 

I  BEG  leave  to  present  my  card,  and  to  solicit  the  reader's  pa- 
tronage, as  a  professor  of  music.  Fifty  summers  and  winters  have 
passed  over  my  head,  I  have  not,  however,  kept  time  in  the 
orchestra  of  life  —  for  life  may  be  aptly  likened  to  an  orchestra, 
whose  best  performance  is  but  an  overture,  a  promise  of  something 
to  come;  a  place  where  the  thunder  of  the  drum  and  the  whisper 
of  the  flute,  the  light  violin  and  the  heavy  violoncello,  are  by  turns 
uppermost,  and  whose  most  complicated  harmony  may  be  entirely 
jarred  by  the  error  of  one  solitary  fiddler — a  Nero,  or  a  Napoleon  ; — I 
have  not,  I  say,  taken  part  in  this  performance  for  half  a  century, 
without  acquiring  a  certain  degree  of  experience,  and  picking  up  a  con- 
siderable number  of  axioms  which  I  believe  to  be  incontrovertible.  One 
of  these  is,  that  people  who  go  to  parties  are  more  unreasonable  than  the 
rest  of  the  world ;  another  is,  that  the  man  who  hath  f(  music  in  his 
soul"  hath  seldom  any  mercy  in  it  for  the  musician ;  a  third  is,  that 
gentlemen — quadrilles  being  once  started  in  an  assembly — continue 
dancing  for  the  rest  of  their  lives,  until  the  gout  seizes  hold  of  them ; 
and  that  ladies  never  do  sit  down  afterwards.  Your  quadrille,  I  am 
perfectly  convinced,  is  your  only  perpetual  motion.  Dancing,  to  women 
especially,  is  like  a  hoop,  which  they  twirl  round  and  round  without 
coining  to  an  end.  They  seem  to  imagine  that  a  ball  is,  in  accordance 
with  its  designation,  globular ;  and  that,  having  once  commenced,  there 
cannot  possibly  be  any  termination  to  it.  I  never  yet  met  with  a  female 
that  would  acknowledge  herself  fatigued: — if  she  danced  well.  They 
are  always  ready  to  go  on,  and  never  willing  to  go  home.  They  have 
no  notion  of  giving  over — they  do  not  know  what  breaking-up  means—- 
they think  the  chalk  looks  as  fresh  on  the  floor  as  ever — they  wonder 
what  the  old  gentleman,  who  generally  goes  to  bed  at  eleven,  means  by 
gaping  at  six  in  the  morning — they  vow,  with  Juliet,  that  it  is  the  night- 
ingale and  not  the  lark  that  sings — they  promise  to  accept  you  as  a 
partner  in  the  next  dance  but  nine  ;  and  they  never  will,  in  short,  put 
an  end  to  their  sport  until  they  fall  fast  asleep — and  even  then  they  will 
be  apt  to  make  a  somnambular  movement,  and  go  through  the  figures 
with  their  eyes  shut.  They  dream  that  they  dance. 

If  this  be  the  case — and  it  will  scarcely  be  contradicted — with  females 
generally,  to  what  a  height  must  the  evil  be  increased  with  those  in  par- 
ticular who  are  celebrated,  as  so  many  are,  for  something  or  other — 
talents,  beauty,  a  volume  of  poems,  or  a  rich  relation  in  a  banking-esta- 
blishment. When  I  enter  a  room,  and  find  myself  surrounded  by  pretty 
faces,  and  figures  not  too  fat,  I  prepare  myself  for  the  worst.  But  if, 
in  addition  to  this  disastrous  display,  I  discover  that  there  are  two  or 
three  of  them  who  dance  divinely,  two  or  three  more  tolerably,  and 
another  two  or  three,  who,  though  they  cannot  dance  at  all,  have  inhe- 
rited such  things  as  ankles  ; — if  I  have  reason  to  apprehend  that  none  of 
the  gentlemen  are  afflicted  with  the  rheumatism  or  cork  legs  ; — if  I  see 
a  harp  within  reach  of  somebody  that  has  been  taught  to  play,  not 
because  she  has  a  taste  for  music,  but  because  she  has  a  white  arm  or  a 
diamond-bracelet ; — if  I  find  a  lady  in  the  room  who,  happening  to  have 
a  good  set  of  teeth,  happens  to  have  also  what  is  termed  a  voice — a 
female  professor  of  science  and  sentiment,  that  has  all  Bayley's  ballads 
by  heart ; — when  I  make  any  one  of  these  dreadful  and  by  no  means 


1830.]  The  Musing  Musician.  405 

unusual  discoveries,  I  feel  that  I  am  indeed  fixed.  There  I  am,  like 
Prometheus,  chained  to  a  mahogany  rock  stuffed  with  horse-hair,  with 
the  piano-forte  preying  upon  me  like  a  vulture. 

These  reflections  have  been  forced  upon  my  mind  by  a  circumstance 
that  occurred  the  other  evening.  I  was  engaged  professionally  to  attend 
a  little  party  where  the  mistress  of  the  ceremonies  was  understood  to  be 
an  advocate  for  regular  hours,  and  I  accordingly  entertained  strong 
hopes  of  getting  home  by  two  or  three  o'clock.  When  I  entered  the 
room,  conceive  my  dismay  and  disappointment  at  beholding,  ranged 
before  me,  not  less  than  a  dozen  of  the  most  indefatigable  and  deter- 
mined torturers  of  the  fantastic  toe  that  ever  danced  till  seven,  drank 
coffee,  and  danced  again.  There  were  many  others  scattered  about ; 
but  the  dreadful  dozen,  that  formidable  twelve — they  were  the  jury  by 
whom  my  temper  was  to  be  tried — the  signs  of  the  Zodiac  through 
which  I  was  destined  to  travel.  They  were  stars  that  did  not  think  of 
shining  till  the  morning — planets  that  would  scorn  to  turn  pale  till 
daybreak.  I  read  my  doom  in  their  eyes — they  had  dressed  for  my 
destruction.  Seeing  that  there  was  to  be  no  mercy,  I  made  up  my  mind 
for  mischief.  After  bowing  to  the  multitude — like  one  who  is  brought 
forth  to  suffer  some  dreadful  sentence  for  the  benefit  of  society — (the 
parallel  will  not  hold  good,  for  I  lacked  the  necessary  nightcap — how  I 
longed  for  it !) — I  took  my  seat  with  a  smiling  face  and  a  desponding 
heart.  I  was  determined  to  endure  calmly.  I  was  quite  patient — the 
very  personification  of  an  angler  fishing  for  philosophic  consolation. 

Dancing  commenced.  The  company  proceeded  to  take  their  pleasure 
in  pairs,  entering  the  ark  of  happiness  two  and  two ;  each  fop  with  a 
female — I  with  my  piano.  What  a  partner  ! — and  to  have  it  for  life, 
too,  as  appeared  at  length  to  be  my  lot.  I  bore  my  fate  with  calmness 
— nay,  with  contentment ;  particularly  as  they  commenced  with  some 
shew  of  moderation,  and  allowed  me  nearly  a  minute  and  a  half  between 
each  quadrille.  This  playing  and  purring  with  me,  however,  was  only 
to  enable  them  to  devour  me  at  last  with  the  greater  relish.  They  ap- 
peared to  regard  me  as  a  mouse  instead  of  a  musician.  At  least  it  never 
seemed  to  enter  into  the  imagination  of  anybody  that  I  was  anything  but 
a  part  of  the  instrument ;  a  piece  of  mortal  machinery,  that,  when  out 
of  order,  might  be  tuned  or  wound  up  with  wine  and  water. 

The  situation  of  the  frog  renowned  in  fable  presented  itself  to  my 
recollection,  and  I  felt  that  their  rapture  was  to  be  my  ruin.  I  relieved 
my  mind  in  some  degree  from  the  pressure  of  sorrow,  by  inveighing 
bitterly  against  the  legislature,  that,  while  it  has  provided  such  appro- 
priate punishments  for  house-breaking,  suffers  heart-breaking  to  be 
practised  with  impunity. 

It  was  now  long  past  midnight,  and  they  continued  to  glide  and  glis- 
ten about  the  room,  with  as  much  vigour  and  brilliancy  as  if  they  had 
only  just  commenced.  I  could  read  in  every  face  at  the  termination  of 
a  dance,  f(  to  be  continued  in  our  next."  Like  authors  who  are  paid  by 
the  sheet,  a  conclusion  was  with  them  quite  out  of  the  question.  They 
appeared  insensible  to  fatigue,  and  were  evidently  disposed  to  dance  on 
for  ever.  Life  in  their  philosophy  seemed  so  short,  that  it  was  hardly 
worth  while  to  leave  off.  A  quadrille  was  their  pursuit,  their  occupation 
— the  object  they  were  born  for.  There  was  nothing  else  in  nature  in 
their  eyes.  People  were  created  but  to  dance  and  die.  The  world  itself 


4()6  The  Musing  Musician.  [OcT. 

had  been  for  ages  past  performing  a  minuet  with  the  sun,  and  appeared 
at  that  moment  to  be  waltzing  away  with  the  moon  ! 

My  fingers  and  my  faculties  began  to  rebel.  I  continued  to  play,  how- 
ever, though  I  could  perceive  the  incipient  symptoms  of  daylight  just 
breaking  through  the  window-curtains.  I  wished  a  vast  number  of 
things — the  principal  and  most  preposterous  of  which  was,  that  they 
would  give  over.  I  wished  that  handsome  women  were  prohibited 
by  Act  of  Parliament,  or  that  boarding-school  beauties,  in  their  eigh- 
teenth year,  were  human  beings — as  in  that  case  some  small  degree  of 
pity  might  be  expected  from  them.  The  lamps  and  candles  were  burn- 
ing low — I  fancied  they  began  to  burn  blue  !  How  I  wished  that,  by 
some  necromantic  misfortune,  there  might  be  no  more  oil  or  long-fours 
in  the  house  !  I  ardently  longed  for  the  appearance  of  an  apparition  or 
a  housebreaker.  Jack  Sheppard  and  the  Hammersmith  ghost  came 
alternately  into  my  mind,  and  I  wished  that  we  had  all  been  born  in  an 
earlier  era.  Hope  would  not  then  have  been  so  utterly  hopeless.  It 
seemed  just  possible  that  the  kitchen-chimney  might  catch  fire; — what 
a  relief  would  that  have  been  to  the  fever  under  which  I  was  suffering  ! 
I  prayed  fervently  that  the  mistress  of  the  house  might  find  the  fatigue 
too  much  for  her  ; — a  fainting  fit  would  have  administered  much  con- 
solation to  me — particularly  if  there  were  no  sal  volatile  to  be  had.  I 
wished  most  especially  that  her  husband  would  get  cross  and  sleepy. 
And  then  my  imagination  would  settle  again  upon  those  lovely  but  pro- 
voking pests — those  laughing,  persevering  plagues,  who  were  the  real 
movers  of  my  misery,  and  whom  I  heard  every  instant  proposing  some 
new  mode  of  torturing  me  and  prolonging  the  time.  It  was  clear  that, 
having  the  persons,  they  considered  themselves  entitled  to  the  privileges 
of  angels,  and  had  consequently  mistaken  time  for  eternity.  I  hoped 
that  their  brothers  and  uncles  might  be  desperately  alarmed  at  their 
stay ;  or  that  Queen  Mab  might  pay  a  visit  to  their  grandmothers, 
frightening  them  with  dreams  of  elopements,  and  handsome  clerks  with 
eighty  pounds  per  annum. 

At  last,  worn  out  with  incessant  exertion,  and  overpowered  with  sleep 
down  to  my  fingers'-ends — that  continued  to  touch  the  keys,  though 
my  ears  were  utterly  unconscious  of  the  sounds  they  produced — I  fell 
into  a  kind  of  conscious  stupor,  a  waking  vision,  a  delusion  of  the 
senses.  A  film  grew  over  my  mind,  and  obscured  its  perceptions.  My 
imagination  seemed  to  have  been  let  on  a  building  lease,  and  fabrics  of 
a  most  fantastic  architecture  were  every  where  springing  up  on  its  sur- 
face. I  could  not  help  fancying  that  I  had  been  playing  there  for  many 
years  without  once  leaving  off,  and  that  the  company  had  continued  dancing 
for  the  same  length  of  time.  I  endeavoured  in  vain  to  recollect  at  what 
period  I  had  commenced  my  performance,  but  I  could  not  divest 
my  mind  of  a  belief  that  half  a  century  had  elapsed  since  I  began. 
Glancing  at  a  mirror  opposite,  to  me,  I  perceived  that  I  looked  alarm- 
ingly old — that  my  whiskers  were  quite  grey,  and  of  more  than  military 
dimensions.  I  observed  also  that  my  coat  was  fearfully  unfashionable 
in  its  cut,  and  as  shabby  as  a  member  of  parliament's  that  has  been  twice 
turned.  My  hat,  I  conjectured,  must  be  the  only  part  of  my  apparel 
that  was  not  worn  out.  The  portion  of  my  dress  nearest  to  the 
seat,  had  suffered  severely.  The  very  horse-hair  was  peeping  out  of  the 
cushion.  The  dress  and  appearance  of  all  around  me  had  likewise  under- 


1830.]  The  Musing  Musician.  40? 

gone  a  change  for  the  worse.  The  long-flounced  drapery,  and  large 
loose  hanging  sleeves— the  starched  cravats  and  pigeon-tailed  dress- 
coats — gave  the  figure  a  most  odiously  antiquated  effect.  Seen  through 
the  telescope  of  time,  nothing  could  be  more  outre  and  ridiculous. 
Fancy  how  the  fashions  in  "  La  Belle  Assemblee"  will  look  fifty  years 
hence,  and  then  imagine  my  amusement  in  contemplating  the  scene 
around  me. 

I  could  not  account  to  myself  for  this  singular  delusion  but  by  sup- 
posing that  we  had  all  been  so  much  interested  in  the  festivities,  that 
months  had  imperceptibly  passed  on,  and  we  had  counted  them  as 
minutes.  Still,  however,  they  continued  dancing:  but  I  consoled 
myself  by  reflecting  that  it  could  not  last  much  longer,  as  the  charms  of 
the  females  were  rapidly  fading  away,  their  cheeks  being  already  pale 
with  age  and  fatigue — their  tresses,  whether  raven  or  auburn,  requiring 
the  magical  and  gloss-giving  aid  of  Rowland — and  their  few  remaining 
teeth  beginning  to  ache — so  that,  no  longer  able  to  "  shew  off,"  they 
would  soon  cease  to  have  any  reasonable  motive  for  prolonging  the 
dance.  As  for  the  other  portion  of  the  party,  I  could  easily  perceive 
that  they  did  not  caper  about  with  their  former  ease  and  alacrity.  Their 
youthful  harlequinism  had  turned  into  a  very  Grimaldi-like  old 
age.  The  gout  had  done  wonders.  They  limped  through  the  figures 
like  people  gallopading  over  burning  ploughshares ;  and,  in  spite  of 
every  effort  to  disguise  it,  it  was  clear  that  their  imaginations  were  set- 
tling very  comfortably  into  easy  chairs  and  velvet  caps.  They  seemed 
to  treat  their  legs  with  particular  tenderness  and  indulgence,  and  were 
evidently  longing  to  put  their  feet  into  wool.  I  could  see  very  well 
where  the  shoe  pinched,  and  how  they  gilded  every  twinge  with  a  smile. 
There  was  a  little  girl — one  of  the  musical  marvels  with  which  every 
private  family  abounds — who  had  been  fondly  forced  by  considerate 
parents  and  admiring  friends  to  sing  every  thing,  from  the  Tyrolese  air 
to  Tom  Bowling,  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  evening ;  and  there  to  my 
imagination  she  stood,  in  the  same  spot — ogling  what  had  been  an  agile 
young  ensign  when  he  entered  the  room,  but  who  was  now  probably 
a  corpulent  colonel  without  being  at  all  aware  of  the  change.  I  could 
not  but  smile,  amidst  all  my  anxieties  and  uneasiness,  when,  reflecting 
on  the  gay,  airy,  tripping  step  that  had  distinguished  every  one  on 
entering,  I  anticipated  a  view  of  their  approaching  exit,  hobbling 
and  humiliated.  A  feeling  of  revenge  sweetened  my  regret,  as  I  pic- 
tured one  of  the  most  youthful  of  my  tormentors,  dim  and  decrepit, 
leaning  for  support  on  the  arm  of  a  tender  juvenile,  who  was  obliged 
to  send  the  servant  for  a  stick  to  sustain  him. 

In  contemplating  the  changes  that  had  taken  place  in  others,  I  was  not 
unmindful  of  myself.  And  here  the  first  thing  that  occurred  to  me  was 
— what  would  my  wife  say  to  me  for  my  long  absence  !  The  reflection 
that  followed  this  was — and  I  felt  the  piano  tremble  beneath  the  violence 
occasioned  by  the  overwhelming  idea — perhaps  she  had  eloped  !  This, 
indeed,  appeared  the  more  probable  to  my  apprehension,  as  fortune  had 
blessed  me  with  a  very  intimate  friend.  Perhaps — the  thought  was  suc- 
ceeded by  a  strange  mixture  of  sensations — perhaps  my  poor  wife  was 
dead ! — and  by  some  extraordinary  association  of  circumstances,  I  im- 
mediately seemed  to  shake  off  my  years,  and  to  assume  something  like 
the  semblance  of  juvenility.  I  could  not  help  indulging  a  hope  that, 


408  The  Musing 'Musician.  fOcT. 

amidst  the  wreck  of  my  property,  my  favourite  violin  had  been  pre- 
served. I  wondered  moreover  whether  my  eldest  boy's  voice  had  turned 
out  a  tenor,  and  whether  the  other  had  left  off  playing  on  the  jew's-harp. 
But  my  attention  was  soon  called  to  the  state  of  public  affairs,  and  I 
began  to  marvel  as  to  the  improvements  that  had  been  effected  and  the 
changes  that  had  happened  during  the  period  of  my  trance.  My  first 
conjecture  was — whether  the  National  Debt  and  the  Pimlico  Palace  were 
still  standing:'  or  had  Rothschild  paid  the  one  out  of  his  own  pocket,  as 
an  acknowledgment  for  the  admission  of  himself  and  his  people  into 
parliament ;  Nash  being  condemned  to  inhabit  the  other  through  all 
eternity,  as  a  punishment  for  building  it.  I  took  some  pains  to 
calculate  how  many  new  worlds  Mr.  Buckingham  had  discovered  in  the 
course  of  his  voyage  round  this  ;  an  excursion  undertaken  with  so  much 
regard  to  the  interests  of  science,  and  with  such  manifest  indifference 
and  detriment  to  his  own.  I  wondered  also  whether  there  was  anybody 
in  existence  that  recollected  who  Mr.  Milton  Montgomery  was ;  or 
whether  the  exact  extent  and  duration  of  a  modern  immortality  had 
been  finally  fixed  !  Had  the  nation  begun  to  like  music,  or  did  they 
only  patronize  it !  Had  Listen  really  assumed,  on  his  retirement,  the 
honours  of  the  baronetcy  (I  tried  to  imagine  a  Sir  John  Liston)  to 
which  rumour  had  assigned  him  the  right ;  and  had  the  mariner-monarch, 
King  William,  called  Mr.  T.  P.  Cooke  to  the  peerage,  as  a  reward  for 
his  talent  in  the  personation  of  nautical  characters,  and  making  the 
navy  popular  !  I  felt  a  desire  to  know  whether  Sir  Francis  Burdett 
had  ever  ascertained  the  difference  between  water  and  prussic-acid ;  and 
how  many  revolutions  had  taken  place  in  St.  Giles's  since  1830  !  Who  was 
Lord  Mayor — and  were  state-carriages  drawn  by  steam  !  I  indulged  in 
a  momentary  surmise  whether  steam  had  been  rendered  applicable  to  the 
purposes  of  public  orations,  by  bringing  one  vapour  to  act  upon  another ; 
and  whether  La  Porte  had  introduced  it  into  the  Opera  to  give  effect  to 
the  chorusses,  and  to  relieve  the  wind-instruments.  Had  the  works  of 
any  more  of  our  popular  authors  been  advertised  at  half-price  !  I  hoped 
that  the  army  had  recovered  from  the  shock  which  it  sustained  in  the 
loss  of  its  mustachios.  Had  the  North- West  Passage  been  discovered ! 
— if  so,  had  Sir  Edward  Parry,  or  any  navigator  in  the  ocean  of 

human  nature,   found   out and    here    my   mind  rambled   over    an 

infinite  catalogue  of  desiderata,  comprising  the  integrity  of  a  stock- 
jobber, the  independence  of  a  state-pensioner,  the  morality  of  an 
actress,  the  skill  of  a  self-taught  curer  of  consumptions,  the  enlighten- 
ment of  his  patients,  the  unimpeachable  honour  of  a  representative,  the 
incorruptible  honesty  of  an  elector,  the  diffidence  of  a  counsellor,  the 
disinterestedness  of  a  subscriber  to  public  charities,  the  meek-heartedness 
of  a  judge,  the  sincerity  of  a  saint,  the  dignity  of  a  city  magistrate,  the 
love  of  criticism  of  an  artist,  the  conscience  and  classic  taste  of  a  govern- 
ment architect,  the  humour  of  a  translator  of  farces,  the  anything  of  a 

fashionable   novelist,    the But   I  broke   off,    as    I    do   now,    in 

the  middle  ;  I  had  stumbled  over  more  improbabilities  than  the 
most  sagacious  expounder  of  mysteries,  the  most  enthusiastic  sup- 
porter of  the  Society  for  the  Diffusion  of  Knowledge,  could  hope  to  dis- 
cover between  this  and  the  millenium.  A  thousand  questions  started 
up  involuntarily,  pressing  for  answers  on  all  subjects,  from  poetry  to 
pugilism.  Every  thing  had  acquired  an  interest  from  time — the  most 


1830.]  .    The  Musing  Musician.  409 

trivial  objects  had  become  hallowed  in  my  absence.  How  anxiously  I 
longed  to  see  the  "  Times :"  even  the  advertisements  would  have  been 
welcome. 

From  this  dream,  or  whatever  it  may  be  called,  I  was  at  length 
aroused  by  the  actual  breaking  up  of  the  party.  They  were  positively 
going.  I  had  glimpses  at  first,  and  then  full  views,  of  hats  and  cloaks — 
my  dungeon-bolts  were  withdrawn.  Alas  !  1  felt  myself  in  the  situa- 
tion of  the  "  Prisoner  of  Chillon,"  so  affectingly  described  by  our  great 
poet.  I  had  become  so  accustomed  to  my  confinement,  that  I  was  almost 
indifferent  to  release — and  at  length 

"  Regained  my  freedom  with  a  sigh !" 

I  resembled  a  person  that  was  so  exceedingly  hungry  that  he  had  lost 
his  appetite.  I  would  as  soon  stay  as  go.  I  had  no  relish  for  home — 
indeed  I  had  almost  forgotten  the  way  to  it.  With  some  difficulty  I 
succeeded  in  tracing  it  out,  and  reached  it  in  time  for  breakfast.  There, 
faithful  as  the  eggs  and  coffee  themselves,  presided  my  wife,  who,  not- 
withstanding my  friend,  had  never  even  dreamed  of  eloping.  The  girls 
were  as  guiltless  of  marriage,  and  the  boys  as  innocent  of  music,  as  when 
I  left  them.  One  of  them  was  spoiling  my  favourite  violin  and  a 
newly-published  air  at  the  same  moment ;  and  the  other  was,  as  usual, 
playing  the  jew's-harp  to  a  favourite  poodle,  who  sat  shaking  his  ears 
over  it  with  all  the  solemnity  of  a  profoundly  fashionable  critic  at  a 
composition  of  Handel's.  B. 


PAUAGRAPHS  ON  PREJUDICE  I    BY  THE  LATE  WILLIAM  HAZLITT. 

IT  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  distinguish  between  true  and  false  preju- 
dice ;  for  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  all  prejudices  are  false.  Pre- 
judice is  properly  an  opinion  or  feeling,  not  for  which  there  is  no  reason, 
but  of  which  we  cannot  render  a  satisfactory  account  on  the  spot.  It  is 
not  always  possible  to  assign  a  "  reason  for  the  faith  that  is  in  us,"  not 
even  if  we  take  time  and  summon  up  all  our  strength ;  but  it  does  not 
therefore  follow  that  our  faith  is  hollow  and  unfounded.  A  false  impres- 
sion may  be  defined  to  be  an  effect  without  a  cause,  or  without  any  ade- 
quate one;  but  the  effect  may  remain  and  be  true,  though  the  cause  is 
concealed  or  forgotten.  The  grounds  of  our  opinions  and  tastes  may  be 
deep,  and  be  scattered  over  a  large  surface ;  they  may  be  various, 
remote,  and  complicated ;  but  the  result  will  be  sound  and  true,  if  they 
have  existed  at  all,  though  we  may  not  be  able  to  analyse  them  into 
classes,  or  to  recal  the  particular  time,  place,  and  circumstances  of  each 
individual  case  or  branch  of  the  evidence.  The  materials  of  thought  and 
feeling,  the  body  of  facts  and  experience,  are  infinite,  are  constantly 
going  on  around  us,  and  acting  to  produce  an  impression  of  good  or  evil, 
of  assent  or  dissent  to  certain  inferences ;  but  to  require  that  we  should 
be  prepared  to  retain  the  whole  of  this  mass  of  experience  in  our  memory, 
to  resolve  it  into  its  component  parts,  and  be  able  to  quote  chapter 
and  verse  for  every  conclusion  we  unavoidably  draw  from  it,  or  else  to 
discard  the  whole  together  as  unworthy  the  attention  of  a  rational 
being,  is  to  betray  an  utter  ignorance  both  of  the  limits  and  the  several 
uses  of  the  human  capacity.  The  feeling  of  the  truth  of  anything,  or 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  58.  3  F 


410  Paragraphs  on  Prejudice.  £OcT. 

the  soundness  of  the  judgment  formed  upon  it  from  repeated,  actual 
impressions,  is  one  thing ;  the  power  of  vindicating  and  enforcing  it,  by 
distinctly  appealing  to  or  explaining  those  impressions,  is  another.  The 
most  fluent  talkers  or  most  plausible  reasoners  are  not  always  the  justest 
thinkers. 

To  deny  that  we  can,  in  a  certain  sense,  know  and  be  justified 
in  believing  anything  of  which  we  cannot  give  the  complete  demon- 
stration, or  the  exact  why  and  how,  would  only  be  to  deny  that  the 
clown,  the  mechanic  (and  not  even  the  greatest  philosopher),  can  know 
the  commonest  thing ;  for  in  this  new  and  dogmatical  process  of  reason- 
ing, the  greatest  philosopher  can  trace  nothing  above,  nor  proceed  a 
single  step  without  taking  something  for  granted  ;*  and  it  is  well  if  he 
does  not  take  more  things  for  granted  than  the  most  vulgar  and  illiterate, 
and  what  he  knows  a  great  deal  less  about.  A  common  mechanic  can 
tell  how  to  work  an  engine  better  than  the  mathematician  who  invented 
it.  A  peasant  is  able  to  foretell  rain  from  the  appearance  of  the  clouds, 
because  (time  out  of  mind)  he  has  seen  that  appearance  followed  by  that 
consequence ;  and  shall  a  pedant  catechise  him  out  of  a  conviction  which 
he  has  found  true  in  innumerable  instances,  because  he  does  not  under- 
stand the  composition  of  the  elements,  or  cannot  put  his  notions  into  a 
logical  shape  ?  There  may  also  be  some  collateral  circumstance  (as  the 
time  of  day),  as  well  as  the  appearance  of  the  clouds,  which  he  may 
forget  to  state  in  accounting  for  his  prediction ;  though,  as  it  has  been  a 
part  of  his  familiar  experience,  it  has  naturally  guided  him  in  forming 
it,  whether  he  was  aware  of  it  or  not.  This  comes  under  the  head  of 
the  well-known  principle  of  the  association  of  ideas  ;  by  which  certain 
impressions,  from  frequent  recurrence,  coalesce  and  act  in  unison  truly 
and  mechanically — that  is,  without  our  being  conscious  of  anything  but 
the  general  and  settled  result.  On  this  principle  it  has  been  well  said, 
that  "  there  is  nothing  so  true  as  habit ;"  but  it  is  also  blind :  we  feel 
and  can  produce  a  given  effect  from  numberless  repetitions  of  the  same 
cause  ;  but  we  neither  inquire  into  the  cause,  nor  advert  to  the  mode. 
In  learning  any  art  or  exercise,  we  are  obliged  to  take  lessons,  to  watch 
others,  to  proceed  step  by  step,  to  attend  to  the  details  and  means 
employed  ;  but  when  we  are  masters  of  it,  we  take  all  this  for  granted, 
and  do  it  without  labour  and  without  thought,  by  a  kind  of  habitual 
instinct — that  is,  by  the  trains  of  our  ideas  and  volitions  having  been 
directed  uniformly,  and  at  last  flowing  of  themselves  into  the  proper 
channel. 

We  never  do  any  thing  well  till  we  cease  to  think  about  the 
manner  of  doing  it.  This  is  the  reason  why  it  is  so  difficult  for  any  but 
natives  to  speak  a  language  correctly  or  idiomatically.  They  do  not 
succeed  in  this  from  knowledge  or  reflection,  but  from  inveterate  cus- 
tom, which  is  a  cord  that  cannot  be  loosed.  In  fact,  in  all  that  we  do,  feel, 
or  think,  there  is  a  leaven  of  prejudice  (more  or  less  extensive),  viz.  some- 
thing implied,  of  which  we  do  not  know  or  have  forgotten  the  grounds. 

*  Berkely,  in  his  "  Minute  Philosopher,"  attacks  Dr.  Halley,  who  had  objected  to 
faith  and  mysteries  in  religion,  on  this  score ;  and  contends  that  the  mathematician,  no 
less  than  the  theologian,  is  obliged  to  presume  on  certain  postulates,  or  to  resort,  before 
he  could  establish  a  single  theorem,  to  a  formal  definition  of  those  undefinable  and  hypo- 
thetical existences,  points,  lines,  and  surfaces;  and,  according  to  the  ingenious  and 
learned  Bishop  of  Cloyne,  solids  would  fare  no  better  than  superficial  in  this  war  of 
words  and  captious  contradiction. 


1830.]  Paragraphs  on  Prejudice.  411 

If  I  am  required  to  prove  the  possibility,  or  demonstrate  the  mode  of 
whatever  I  do  before  I  attempt  it,  I  can  neither  speak,  walk,  nor  see  ; 
nor  have  the  use  of  my  hands,  senses,  or  common  understanding.  I  do 
not  know  what  muscles  I  use  in  walking,  nor  what  organs  I  employ  in 
speech :  those  who  do,  cannot  speak  or  walk  better  on  that  account ; 
nor  can  they  tell  how  these  organs  and  muscles  themselves  act.  Can 
I  not  discover  that  one  object  is  near,  and  another  at  a  distance,  from 
the  ei/e  alone,  or  from  continual  impressions  of  sense  and  custom  con- 
curring to  make  the  distinction,  without  going  through  a  course  of  per- 
spective and  optics  ? — or  am  I  not  to  be  allowed  an  opinion  on  the  sub- 
ject, or  to  act  upon  it,  without  being  accused  of  being  a  very  prejudiced 
and  obstinate  person  ?  An  artist  knows  that  to  imitate  an  object  in  the 
horizon,  he  must  use  less  colour ;  and  the  naturalist  knows  that  this 
effect  is  produced  by  the  intervention  of  a  greater  quantity  of  air  :  but 
a  country  fellow,  who  knows  nothing  of  either  circumstance,  must  not 
only  be  ignorant,  but  a  blockhead,  if  he  could  be  persuaded  that  a  hill  ten 
miles  off  was  close  before  him,  only  because  he  could  not  state  the 
grounds  of  his  opinion  scientifically.  Not  only  must  we  (if  restricted  to 
reason  and  philosophy)  distrust  the  notices  of  sense,  but  we  must  also 
dismiss  all  that  mass  of  knowledge  and  perception  which  falls  under  the 
head  of  common-sense  and  natural  feeling,  which  is  made  up  of  the  strong 
and  urgent,  but  undefined  impressions  of  things  upon  us,  and  lies 
between  the  two  extremes  of  absolute  proof  and  the  grossest  ignorance. 
Many  of  these  pass  for  instinctive  principles  and  innate  ideas  ;  but  there 
is  nothing  in  them  "  more  than  natural." 

Without  the  aid  of  prejudice  and  custom,  I  should  not  be  able  to  find 
my  way  across  the  room ;  nor  know  how  to  conduct  myself  in  any  cir- 
cumstances, nor  what  to  feel  in  any  relation  of  life.  Reason  may  play 
the  critic,  and  correct  certain  errors  afterwards ;  but  if  we  were  to  wait 
for  its  formal  and  absolute  decisions  in  the  shifting  and  multifarious 
combinations  of  human  affairs,  the  world  would  stand  still.  Even  men 
of  science,  after  they  have  gone  over  the  proofs  a  number  of  times, 
abridge  the  process,  and  jump  at  a  conclusion  : — is  it  therefore  false, 
because  they  have  always  found  it  to  be  true  ?  Science  after  a  certain 
time  becomes  presumption  ;  and  learning  reposes  in  ignorance.  It  has 
been  observed,  that  women  have  more  tact  and  insight  into  character 
than  men,  that  they  find  out  a  pedant,  a  pretender,  a  blockhead,  sooner. 
The  explanation  is,  that  they  trust  more  to  the  first  impressions  and 
natural  indications  of  things,  without  troubling  themselves  with  a  learned 
theory  of  them ;  whereas  men,  affecting  greater  gravity,  and  thinking 
themselves  bound  to  justify  their  opinions,  are  afraid  to  form  any  judg- 
ment at  all,  without  the  formality  of  proofs  and  definitions,  and  blunt 
the  edge  of  their  understandings,  lest  they  should  commit  some  mistake. 
They  stay  for  facts,  till  it  is  too  late  to  pronounce  on  the  characters. 
Women  are  naturally  physiognomists,  and  men  phrenologists.  The 
first  judge  by  sensations;  the  last  by  rules.  Prejudice  is  so  far  then 
an  involuntary  and  stubborn  association  of  ideas,  of  which  we  cannot 
assign  the  distinct  grounds  and  origin  ;  and  the  answer  to  the  question, 
"  How  do  we  know  whether  the  prejudice  is  true  or  false?"  depends 
chiefly  on  that  other,  whether  the  first  connection  between  our  ideas  has 
been  real  or  imaginary.  This  again  resolves  into  the  inquiry,  Whether 
the  subject  in  dispute  falls  under  the  province  of  our  own  experience, 

3  F  2 


412  Paragraphs  on  PrejudicS.  [_Ocr. 

feeling,  and  observation,  or  is  referable  to  the  head  of  authority,  tra- 
dition, and  fanciful  conjecture  ?  Our  practical  conclusions  are  in  this 
respect  generally  right;  our  speculative  opinions  are  just  as  likely  to 
be  wrong.  What  we  derive  from  our  personal  acquaintance  with  things 
(however  narrow  in  its  scope  or  imperfectly  digested),  is,  for  the  most 
part,  built  on  a  solid  foundation — that  of  Nature ;  it  is  in  trusting  to 
others  (who  give  themselves  out  for  guides  and  doctors)  that  we  are  all 
abroad,  and  at  the  mercy  of  quackery,  impudence,  and  imposture.  Any 
impression,  however  absurd,  or  however  we  may  have  imbibed  it,  by 
being  repeated  and  indulged  in,  becomes  an  article  of  implicit  and  incor- 
rigible belief.  The  point  to  consider  is,  how  we  have  first  taken  it  up, 
whether  from  ourselves  or  the  arbitrary  dictation  of  others.  "  Thus 
shall  we  try  the  doctrines,  whether  they  be  of  nature  or  of  man." 

So  far  then  from  the  charge  lying  against  vulgar  and  illiterate  prejudice 
as  the  bane  of  truth  and  common  sense,  the  argument  turns  the  other  way ; 
for  the  greatest,  the  most  solemn,  and  mischievous  absurdities  that  man- 
kind have  been  the  dupes  of,  they  have  imbibed  from  the  dogmatism  and 
vanity  or  hypocrisy  of  the  self-styled  wise  and  learned,  who  have 
imposed  profitable  fictions  upon  them  for  self-evident  truths,  and  con- 
trived to  enlarge  their  power  with  their  pretensions  to  knowledge. 
Every  boor  sees  that  the  sun  shines  above  his  head ;  that  "  the  moon  is 
made  of  green  cheese,"  is  a  fable  that  has  been  taught  him.  Defoe  says, 
that  there  were  a  hundred  thousand  stout  country-fellows  in  his  time  ready 
to  fight  to  the  death  against  popery,  without  knowing  whether  popery 
was  a  man  or  a  horse.  This,  then,  was  a  prejudice  that  they  did  not  fill 
up  of  their  own  heads.  All  the  great  points  that  men  have  founded  a 
claim  to  superiority,  wisdom,  and  illumination  upon,  that  they  have 
embroiled  the  world  with,  and  made  matters  of  the  last  importance,  are 
what  one  age  and  country  differ  diametrically  with  each  other  about, 
have  been  successively  and  justly  exploded,  and  have  been  the  levers  of 
opinion  and  the  grounds  of  contention,  precisely  because  as  their  ex- 
pounders and  believers  are  equally  in  the  dark  about  them,  they  rest 
wholly  on  the  fluctuations  of  will  and  passion,  and  as  they  can  neither 
be  proved  nor  disproved,  admit  of  the  fiercest  opposition  or  the  most 
bigotted  faith.  In  what  "  comes  home  to  the  business  and  bosoms  of 
men,"  there  is  less  of  this  uncertainty  and  presumption ;  and  there,  in 
the  little  world  of  our  own  knowledge  and  experience,  we  can  hardly 
do  better  than  attend  to  the  t(  still,  small  voice"  of  our  own  hearts  and 
feelings,  instead  of  being  brow-beat  by  the  effrontery,  or  puzzled  by  the 
sneers  and  cavils  of  pedants  and  sophists,  of  whatever  school  or  descrip- 
tion. 

If  I  take  a  prejudice  against  a  person  from  his  face,  I  shall  very  pro- 
bably be  in  the  right;  if  I  take  a  prejudice  against  a  person  from 
hearsay,  I  shall  quite  as  probably  be  in  the  wrong.  We  have  a  pre- 
judice in  favour  of  certain  books,  but  it  is  hardly  without  knowledge, 
if  we  have  read  them  with  delight  over  and  over  again.  Fame  itself  is 
a  prejudice,  though  a  fine  one.  Natural  affection  is  a  prejudice:  for 
though  we  have  cause  to  love  our  nearest  connections  better  than  others, 
we  have  no  reason  to  think  them  better  than  others.  The  error  here  is, 
when  that  which  is  properly  a  dictate  of  the  heart  passes  out  of  its- 
sphere,  and  becomes  an  overweening  decision  of  the  understanding. 
So  in  like  manner  of  the  love  of  country ;  and  there  is  a  prejudice  in 


1830-3  Paragraphs  on  Prejudice.  413 

favour  of  virtue,  genius,  liberty,  which  (though  it  were  possible)  it 
would  be  a  pity  to  destroy.  The  passions,  such  as  avarice,  ambition, 
love,  &c.  are  prejudices,  that  is,  amply  exaggerated  views  of  certain 
objects,  made  up  of  habit  and  imagination  beyond  their  real  value ;  but 
if  we  ask  what  is  the  real  value  of  any  object,  independently  of  its  con- 
nection with  the  power  of  habit,  or  its  affording  natural  scope  for  the 
imagination,  we  shall  perhaps  be  puzzled  for  an  answer.  To  reduce 
things  to  the  scale  of  abstract  reason  would  be  to  annihilate  our  interest 
in  them,  instead  of  raising  our  affections  to  a  higher  standard ;  and  by 
striving  to  make  man  rational,  we  should  leave  him  merely  brutish. 

Animals  are  without  prejudice:  they  are  not  led  away  by  autho- 
rity or  custom,  but  it  is  because  they  are  gross,  and  incapable  of 
being  taught.  It  is  however  a  mistake  to  imagine  that  only  the  vulgar 
and  ignorant,  who  can  give  no  account  of  their  opinions,  are  the  slaves 
of  bigotry  and  prejudice ;  the  noisiest  declaimers,  the  most  subtle 
casuists,  and  most  irrefragable  doctors,  are  as  far  removed  from  the  cha- 
racter of  true  philosophers,  while  they  strain  and  pervert  all  their  powers 
to  prove  some  unintelligible  dogma,  instilled  into  their  minds  by  early 
education,  interest,  or  self-importance;  and  if  we  say  the  peasant  or 
artisan  is  a  Mahometan  because  he  is  born  in  Turkey,  or  a  papist  because 
he  is  born  in  Italy,  the  mufti  at  Constantinople  or  the  cardinal  at  Rome 
is  so,  for  no  better  reason,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  pride  and  learning. 
Mr.  Hobbes  used  to  say,  that  if  he  had  read  as  much  as  others,  he 
should  have  been  as  ignorant  as  they. 

After  all,  most  of  our  opinions  are  a  mixture  of  reason  and  prejudice, 
experience  and  authority.  We  can  only  judge  for  ourselves  in  what 
concerns  ourselves,  and  in  things  about  us :  and  even  there  we  must 
trust  continually  to  established  opinion  and  current  report ;  in  higher 
and  more  abtruse  points  we  must  pin  our  faith  still  more  on  others.  If 
we  believe  only  what  we  know  at  first  hand,  without  trusting  to  autho- 
rity at  all,  we  shall  disbelieve  a  great  many  things  that  really  exist  ; 
and  the  suspicious  coxcomb  is  as  void  of  judgment  as  the  credulous  fool. 
My  habitual  conviction  of  the  existence  of  such  a  place  as  Rome  is  not 
strengthened  by  my  having  seen  it ;  it  might  be  almost  said  to  -be 
obscured  and  weakened,  as  the  reality  falls  short  of  the  imagination.  I 
walk  along  the  streets  without  fearing  that  the  houses  will  fall  on  my 
head,  though  I  have  not  examined  their  foundation ;  and  I  believe  firmly 
in  the  Newtonian  system,  though  I  have  never  read  the  Principia.  In  the 
former  case,  I  argue  that  if  the  houses  were  inclined  to  fall  they  would  not 
wait  for  me ;  and  in  the  latter,  I  acquiesce  in  what  all  who  studied  the 
subject,  and  are  capable  of  understanding  it,  agree  in,  having  no  reason 
to  suspect  the  contrary.  That  the  earth  turns  round  is  agreeable  to  my 
understanding,  though  it  shocks  my  sense,  which  is  however  too  weak 
to  grapple  with  so  vast  a  question,  r.v  ;  •• 


[    414    ]  [OcT 

THE    IRISH    PRIEST    AND    HIS    NIECE. 

THE  parish  of  Ruthbeg,  in  the  west  of  Ireland,,  is  placed  in  the  centre 
of  a  range  of  ragged  hills,  as  if  it  had  been  dropt  there  by  accident.  It 
is  a  lonely  place,  dotted  over  with  trees,  and  ponds,  and  wide  stretches 
of  meadow,  and  somewhat  fantastically  intersected  with  a  silver  vein  of 
water  that  takes  its  source  in  one  of  the  mountains.  The  extent  of  the 
parish  is  about  twenty  miles,  and  as  the  population  is  thin  and  scattered, 
the  clerical  duties  of  the  priest  are  laborious,  it  being  a  part  of  his  busi- 
ness to  visit  the  parishioners  at  stated  times,  and  give  mass  on  alter- 
nate Sundays  at  the  distant  stations.  But  Father  Macdermott  con- 
trived to  make  his  task  as  agreeable  as,  under  all  circumstances,  could  be 
expected.  He  travelled  on  horseback  ;  stopped  at  the  Ihcbeen  houses 
for  refreshment,  which  was  gratuitously  accorded  to  his  Reverence,  and 
which  he  was  never  slow  to  partake  of;  and,  by  short  stages  and  merry- 
makings, he  never  failed  to  enjoy  himself  on  the  road.  He  had  a  word 
for  every  body,  for  he  was  jocular  by  nature  ;  and  so,  between  his  fun 
and  his  functions,  he  made  light  of  his  journey.  Imagine  him  mounted 
on  a  well-fed  charger,  as  sleek  as  himself;  and  follow  him  down  the 
sloping  bridle-path  that  leads  into  the  first  rent  of  cabins  beyond  the 
bridge:  you  shall  judge  of  the  pleasant  life  he  passes  in  his  retired 
parish. 

"  Ha !  Mrs.  Finnegan,  what's  upon  you  this  morning,  with  that 
quare  looking  bundle  under  your  apron  ?" 

"  Troth,  your  Reverence,  it's  only  a  basket  of  eggs." 

"  Where  there's  eggs  there  must  be  chickens,  Mrs.  Finnegan." 

Cf  Never  a  word  of  lie  in  it,  your  Reverence." 

"  I  wouldn't  be  put  out  of  my  way,  Mrs.  Finnegan,  if  one  or  two  of 
them  same  chicjkens  were  laying  their  eggs  up  in  my  barn ;  there's  a 
beautiful  pool  for  the  creatures  there." 

"  May-be  your  honour  means  to  do  me  a  good  turn  this  blessed  morn- 
ing ?" 

"  And  why  not,  Mrs.  Finnegan  ?     Who's  sick  ?" 

"  Poor  Thady  is  lyin'  under  the  measles." 

"  Oh  !  we'll  make  a  terrible  intercession  for  him." 

' '  The  grace  of  the  world  go  wid  you,  sir." 

"  When  will  the  chickens  come,  Mrs.  Finnegan  ?" 

"  If  I'm  a  living  woman  they'll  be  breaking  their  hearts  laying  eggs 
for  your  Reverence  before  they're  an  hour  older/' 

"  You're  in  the  true  way,  and  I'll  take  care  of  Thady." 

Spurs  to  his  horse,  and  off  he  goes  to  a  wake. 

The  eldest  son  of  the  house  of  Shanahan  is  dead.  He  lies  on  a  dingy 
bed,  surrounded  by  numerous  candles  and  the  elite  of  the  village.  When 
the  priest  enters,  Michael  Shanahan,  the  father,  greets  him. 

"  There  he  is,  your  Reverence ;  sure  the  world  couldn't  keep  him 
together  when  once  the  last  fit  came  upon  him." 

"  Well,"  rejoins  the  priest,  "  it's  one  comfort,  that,  do  what  you  will, 
you  can't  bring  him  back  again." 

This  consolation  was  followed  by  dipping  a  goblet  into  a  gigantic 
bowl  of  punch  that  stood  on  a  table  in  the  middle  of  the  apartment,  and 
drinking  off  its  contents  to  the  "  sarvice"  of  the  "  ladies  and  gentle- 
men." 


1830.]  The  Irish  Priest  and  his  Niece.  415 

In  the  mean  time  the  melancholy  revelry  went  forward,  hushed  into 
occasional  attention  only  when  some  divers-keyed  song  broke  upon 
the  din  and  clatter  of  voices;  or  when  some  inspired  relative  of  the 
deceased  stood  forward,  in  a  sudden  frenzy  of  eloquence,  to  depict  his 
virtues  and  bewail  his  loss.* 

Father  Macdermott  moved  quietly  towards  a  corner,  where  a  middle* 
aged  woman,  of  the  lower  class,  sat  alone.  .She  appeared  to  be  an 
observer,  rather  than  a  partaker  of  the  merriment.  Rut  it  must  not, 
therefore,  be  inferred  that  she  was  either  moody  or  temperate  j  for  she 
frequently  joined  in  the  loud  roar,  and  never  allowed  the  jorum  to  pass 
untasted.  Still  she  did  not  mingle  in  the  group,  but  enjoyed  it  with  a 
sort  of  solitary  recklessness.  The  priest  was  soon  seared  at  her  side. 
There  was  a  look  of  mutual  intelligence,  checked  by  strong  feelings ; 
but  the  embarrassment  soon  wore  off,  and  an  undertoned  tete-a-tete 
ensued. 

"  And  is  the  cratur  well  ?"  inquired  the  woman,  in  a  subdued  and 
uncheerful  voice. 

"  Hearty — hearty  !"  returned  the  priest. 

"•And  how  is  her  sparals  2"t 

"  Troth,  Mrs.  Martin,  I  can't  complain.  She's  as  well  as  can  be 
expected."  These  last  words  were  accompanied  by  a  very  intelligent 
smirk,  that  conveyed  a  meaning  which  could  not  be  mistaken. 

"  Again  ? — poor  sowl  I"  and  the  woman  cowered  in  her  corner,  and 
rocked  to  and  fro  with  an  agitated  expression  of  countenance. 

The  buzz  still  rang  thrillingly  through  the  low  room  ;  and  but  snatches 
of  the  conversation  were  here  and  there  audible. 

"  Father,  avourneen !"  exclaimed  an  old  woman,  approaching  the 
Priest  with  great  reverence,  "  how  is  the  niece  this  blessed  night  ?" 

"  Thank  your  axing,  she's  mighty  well,"  returned  his  Reverence. 

"  Ah  !  then,  wasn't  it  a  pity  not  to  bring  her  along  wid  you  to 
the  wake  ?  Sure  never  a  one  of  her  gets  any  diversion  at  all,  she's  so 
given  up  to  the  books  and  the  chapel." 

"True  for  you,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Martin ;  "  but  there's  raison  in  all 
things.  May-be,  it's  better  as  it  is." 

"  What  should  you  mean  by  that,  Mrs.  Martin  ?"  inquired  the 
Priest. 

"  Och  !  nothing — nothing  at  all.  Only  it's  a  sad  sight  to  see  a  young 
thing,  the  likes  of  her,  shut  up  morning,  noon,  and  night,  all  as  one  as 
a  fairy  in  a  'baccy-box.  If  the  cratur  is  like  other  young  sowls — and 
why  shouldn't  she,  Father  Macdermott  ?" — whispered  Mrs.  Martin — 
<(  you  know  best — you  know  best." 

"  Well,  I  wonder  at  you  to  put  such  thoughts  in  her  head.  Did  you 
ever  know  of  a  priest's  niece  go  gadding  abroad  like  other  girls.  Am  I 
not  saving  «p  the  penny  for  her" — and  then  applying  his  ear  close  to 
her's,  he  added — "  won't  you  be  the  better  of  all  I  have  ?  You'll  be  the 
ruin  of  her  if  you  don't  keep  your  tongue  easy/' 

(t  Augh  !  it's  an  ugly  deed.     What's  the  use  of  talking? — the  heart's 

*  This  is  a  very  common  occurrence  at  the  wakes  of  the  Irish  peasantry.  Curran  is  said 
to  have  imbibed  his  earliest  taste  for  oratory  from  the  impassioned  address  of  an  old 
woman  on  one  of  these  occasions.  There  is  frequently,  in  their  spontaneous  laments,  an 
extraordinary  mixture  of  the  pathetic  and  humorous,  with  poetry  and  eloquence. 

•j-  Anglice,  animal  spirits. 


416  The  Irish  Priest  and  his  Niece.  [OCT. 

broke  within  me  1"  she  answered,  smothering  her  emotions  as  well  as 
she  was  able. 

"  You're  a  big  fool  I"  was  the  answer  of  the  Priest,  who  turned  away 
to  the  invitation  of  an  awkward,  red-haired  man,  with  a  jug  of  fresh- 
made  punch  in  his  hand. 

Let  us  now  return  to  the  Priest's  house,  seated  in  a  comfortable  field, 
at  the  termination  of  the  valley  beyond  the  village.  It  is  midnight. 
Mrs.  Finnegan's  chickens,  presented  according  to  promise,  are  long  since 
gone  to  roost.  Peggy,  the  priest's  niece,  alone  is  up  and  waking  in  the 
lonely  domicile.  Suppose  a  picture  of  the  scene  were  painted  by  some 
Irish  Wilkie  (if  such,  an  artist  there  be,  now  that  Grattan  is  no  more), 
it  would  represent  the  following  interior : — 

A  snug,  warmly-carpeted  room ;  on  the  left,  a  fire  blazing  and  spark- 
ling with  those  best  of  ignitible  materials — seasoned  logs  and  good  turf ; 
at  the  back,  a  well-furnished  cupboard,  in  which  glasses  and  decanters, 
brightened  by  constant  use,  hold  a  prominent  place.  A  table  in  the 
centre,  covered  with  a  crimson  cloth,  upon  which  stands  an  oddly-< 
assorted  mixture — a  whiskey-bottle  (corked,  we  must  add,  in  justice  to 
the  lady) — a  couple  of  tumblers  and  glasses — a  work-basket,  filled  with 
various-coloured  muslins  and  ribands — some  half-finished  baby-linen — 
a  weekly  newspaper — an  Italian  iron — a  dirty  pack  of  cards,  scattered 
about — a  pill-box — and  some  labelled  phials,  fresh  from  the  apothecary's. 
There  sits  Peggy  at  her  solitary  employment ;  her  busy  fingers  plying 
her  nightly  task  of  preparation  for  a  domestic  event  to  come ;  and  her 
scarcely-audible  voice  humming,  to  beguile  time,  one  of  the  melancholy 
popular  airs  of  the  country.  Occasionally  she  pauses  from  her  sad 
labours,  and  looks  vacantly  at  the  progress  she  has  made.  Her  eyes, 
never  beautiful,  but  peculiarly  soft  in  their  expression — are  red,  perhaps 
with  weeping.  Then  a  low  sigh  breaks  out  from  her  lips,  she  makes  a 
violent  effort  to  rally,  snatches  up  her  work  hastily,  and  resumes  the 
tedious  toil  with  unconscious  rapidity.  She  looks  like  the  victim  of  cir- 
cumstances out  of  which  she  cannot  escape.  If  she  be  unhappy,  she 
is  fascinated  by  a  charm  that  will  not  permit  her  to  murmur.  She  dare 
not  complain ;  she  would  neither  be  credited  nor  comforted  by  the  -mul- 
titude. Even  her  relatives,  those  who  love  her  best  and  most  truly, 
would  shrink  from  her  appeal.  She  is  doomed  to  suffer  without  hope. 
Her  crime  admits  of  no  worldly  consolation.  The  tempter  is  the  dis- 
penser of  salvation  ;  and  were  she  to  denounce  him,  fearful  would  be  the 
punishment  inflicted  on  her,  through  the  agency  of  her  superstition  and 
her  ignorance. 

It  is  midnight,  and  a  vulgar  outcry  at  the  door  announces  the  return 
of  Father  Macdermott.  But  he  does  not  come  alone :  he  is  accompanied 
by  Mrs.  Martin.  Peggy  hastens  to  admit  them,  and,  in  the  next 
moment,  she  feels  the  embrace  of  her  despairing  mother. 

"  Is  the  kettle  schreeching  hot  ?"  demands  the  Priest. 

"  It's  only  boiling  its  life  out,  waiting  for  you  these  three  long  hours," 
answers  Peggy. 

A  silence  of  a  few  minutes  ensues,  during  which  the  Priest,  whose 
celerity  in  these  matters  is  proverbial,  has  mixed  two  tumblers  of  strong 
punch,  one  for  Mrs.  Martin  (nothing  loth),  and  the  other  for  himself. 

There  sit  the  group,  enjoying  their  bitter  dissipation  :  the  mother  of 
a  lost  girl— the  priestly  seducer — and  the  ruined  victim  of  unholy 
passion  ! 


]830.]  The  Irish  Priest  and  his  Niece.  417 

"  I'm  afeard,"  exclaims  Mrs.  Martin,  "  that  the  Bible  people  know 
all  about  it,  Peggy.  It  was  only  the  other  morning  that  they  were  axing 
down  at  the  school  whose  child  it  was  that  the  nurse  was  taking  such  care 
of.  That  would  be  certain  destruction  to  us  all,  avourneen  !" 

"Ah!  then,  what  are  you  teasing  yourself  about?11  replies  Father 
Macdermott.  "  Ar'n't  the  Biblicals  our  sworn  enemies  ?  Sure  I'd 
rather  they'd  say  it  than  not ;  for  our  people  wouldn't  believe  a  word  of 
it  then.  It  would  be  all  set  down  to  their  spite  and  malice ;  and  the 
'Sociation  would  take  it  up  and  prosecute  them  for  slander,  and  Peggy 
would  be  a  made  woman  ever  after  the  world  over.  Who  d'ye  think 
would  dare  to  accuse  me  of  it  ?  Wouldn't  I  excommunicate  them,  bell, 
book,  and  candlelight,  and  bring  the  murrain  on  the  cattle  of  them  ? 
Don't  you  know  very  well,  with  all  your  foolishness,  that  it  wouldn't 
be  wishing  them  all  their  souls  and  bodies  are  worth  to  put  such  a  charge 
upon  me  ?  Who  cares  what  they  think,  when  I  know  they  dare  not  speak 
out  one  word  against  their  priest !  Take  your  cordial,  Mrs.  Martin,  and 
leave  the  rest  to  me." 

This  is  the  moral  of  our  sketch.  It  is  not  a  picture  designed  by  the 
imagination.  It  is  drawn  from  the  life.  It  is  an  existing  statement  of 
facts,  but  faintly  coloured  from  the  original. 

The  priest's  niece  is  the  convenient  name  of  that  individual  who  fills 
the  void  of  the  priest's  loneliness ;  who  engrosses  the  suppressed  play 
of  his  forbidden  affections ;  who  enables  him  to  cheat  religion  of  its 
austerities ;  and  to  enjoy  in  disguise  those  endearments  of  home  arid  its 
associations  which  the  unnatural  bondage  of  his  church  pronounces 
criminal.  The  system  which  opposes  itself  to  nature ;  that,  in  the 
name  of  God,  resists  the  decrees  of  God  as  they  are  declared  in  our 
organization,  moral  and  physical ;  that  sets  aside  the  innate  and  irre- 
sistible tendencies  of  our  original  being  in  favour  of  fictitious,  degrading, 
and  impossible  obligations ;  that,  under  the  pretence  of  purifying  the 
lives  of  the  professors  of  Christianity,  forces  them  into  the  guilt  of  vio- 
lating Christianity  in  secret ;  that  makes  men  hypocrites  for  the  sake  of 
making  priests  appear  immaculate  and  superhuman ;  that  poisons  the 
springs  of  thought  and  feeling,  and  distorts  the  whole  machinery  of 
human  action,  for  the  sake  of  arrogating  to  itself  the  miraculous  and 
fabulous  power  of  suspending  the  faculties  and  keeping  back  the 
impulses,  that  are  common  to  mankind,  and  above  and  beyond  mortal 
control ; — the  system  that  assumes  these  extravagant  and  impious  prero- 
gatives, is  to  be  censured  in  chief  for  the  abominations  of  its  ministers. 
The  priest  is  but  a  man ;  but  he  is  a  bad  man  to  become  the  instrument 
of  such  monstrous  chicanery— H>f  so  extensive  a  fraud  upon  the  credulity 
of  the  weak  and  the  bigotted. 


M.M.  New  &JTUW.— VOL.  X.  No.  58.  3  G 


[    418    ]  [OCT. 

SIR  GEORGE  MURRAY   AND  THE  SECTARIANS FATE  OF  THE 

COLONIES.* 

WE  have  repeatedly  endeavoured  to  point  out  the  dangerous  conse- 
quences of  giving  way  to  the  dishonest  plans  and  impracticable  schemes 
of  that  party  which  is  commonly  denominated  the  "  Saints ;"  and  the 
fatal  errors  which  have  already  been  committed  by  following  the  advice 
of  irresponsible  persons,  who  are  pursuing,  at  the  expense  of  the  nation, 
wild  and  visionary  measures  under  the  garb  of  "  philanthropy." 

We  need  only  allude  to  our  exposure  of  their  measures  at  Sierra 
Leone,t  and  the  disgraceful  conduct  of  their  agents  at  Freetown  and 
elsewhere.  We  think  it  can  easily  be  dempnstrated^  that  hitherto  the 
only  fruits  of  their  interference,  have  been  the  waste  of  some  millions  of 
the  public  money,  and  the  loss  of  many  valuable  lives  on  the  African 
coast,  without  one  of  the  objects  contemplated  having  been  attained,  or 
any  one  thing  having  been  done  for  the  cause  of  true  humanity.  A  few 
individuals  have,  indeed,  enriched  themselves  at  the  expense  of  the 
nation  ;  and,  through  the  weakness  and  gullibility  of  persons  in  autho- 
rity, their  party,  although  inimical  to  the  established  church,  and  to 
the  general  prosperity  of  the  country  (which  is  mainly  dependent  upon 
the  colonies),  have  been  able  to  support  and  advance  their  political 
interests  in  direct  opposition  to  the  government,  and  on  anti-colonial 
principles.  Such  have,  hitherto,  been  the  consequences  of  adopting  the 
schemes  of  this  party.  To  affirm  that  they  have,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  advanced  the  interests  of  humanity  would,  we  apprehend,  be  a 
gross  dereliction  of  the  truth.  We  would  ask  has  Africa  benefited  by 
their  plans  ?  Is  not  the  slave-trade  generally,  which  they  professed  to 
annihilate,  still  persisted  in  by  foreigners,  with  undiminished  vigour 
and  extended  cruelty?  Have  not  all  the  measures  adopted  by  the 
suggestion  of  the  "  Saints,"  and  carried  on  at  an  enormous  waste  of 
men,  and  some  eight  or  nine  millions  of  the  public  money,  utterly  failed  ? 
Have  not  their  schemes  for  the  civilization  of  Africa  and  Africans 
proved  completely  abortive?  Are  not  the  unfortunate  beings,  seized 
from  the  foreign  slave-ships  and  prematurely  liberated,  still  in  a  con- 
dition far  inferior,  in  every  respect,  to  the  meanest  of  our  colonial  culti- 
vators ?  And  is  there  the  slightest  chance  of  the  improvement  of  these 
freed  negroes  under  the  civilization  system  of  the  pseudo-philanthropists  ? 
Still,  these  people,  disappointed  in  all  their  other  measures,  persist  in 
their  designs  for  the  utter  subversion  of  our  colonial  establishments  in 
the  West  Indies ;  and  instead  of  suggesting  sound  and  equitable  prac- 
tical measures,  calculated  to  benefit  either  the  slave  or  the  planter,  they 
adhere  to  abstract  principles,  and  pursue  their  nefarious  designs  by 
propagating  calumnies  against  the  colonists,  and  by  giving  currency  to 
the  most  artful  misrepresentations  and  disingenuous  statements  to  their 
prejudice  ! 

In  the  debates  during  the  last  session  of  parliament,  ministers,  instead 
of  firmly  and  decisively  maintaining  the  rights  of  property,  and  afford- 
ing that  protection  to  the  colonies  which  their  great  importance  demands, 
left  the  colonists  open  to  the  assaults  of  their  bitter  enemies ;  and  with- 
out fairly  meeting  the  mis-statements  propagated,  seemed  to  encourage 

*  Parliamentary  Documents.     Fate  of  the  Colonies  :  a  Letter  to  the  Proprietors  and 
Planters  of  the  West  Indies  resident  in  the  colonies,  by  R.  Alexander,  Esq. 
f  Monthly  Mag.  for  March  last,  &c. 


1830.]  Fate  of  the  Colonies.  419 

them  by  faint  opposition  and  temporizing  explanations.  The  colonists 
have  thus  had  to  fight  an  unequal  battle,  and  to  undertake  duties,  for 
the  proper  discharge  of  which,  ministers,  virtually,  became  responsible 
to  the  country  when  they  accepted  of  office. 

In  the  late  debates  on  colonial  slavery,  Sir  George  Murray,  although 
he  expressed  himself  adverse  to  the  measures  of  spoliation  contemplated 
by  the  anti- colonists,  namely,  to  deprive  the  West  Indians  of  their 
property  without  compensation,  and  although  he  declared  that  "  the 
property  in  a  slave  is  as  much  property  as  any  other  species  of  posses- 
sion, and  as  much  under  the  protection  of  the  law,  as  any  other  deno- 
mination whatever ;"  yet  he  stated  other  propositions  to  which  we 
think  every  sober-minded  man  must  demur,  and  it  is  to  be  regretted 
that  he  had  not  more  fully  considered  the  subject.  He  is  said  to  have 
asserted  that  the  condition  of  slavery  is  injurious  both  to  the  master  and 
the  slave ;  and  is  equally  inconsistent  with  humanity,  and  the  religion 
we  profess ;  "  but  it  will  not  do,"  says  he,  "  to  travel  into  abstract  princi- 
ples." However  we  may  agree  with  him  upon  those  abstract  principles, 
it  is  only  by  practical  experience  that  this  question  ought  or  can  now  be 
properly  considered ;  and  when  we  look  at  the  actual  progress  which 
has  been  made  in  the  religious  instruction  and  civilization  of  the  negroes 
in  the  West  Indies,  under  a  state  of  mild  coercion,  and  compare  their 
progressive  advancement,  with  the  stationary  condition  of  their  savage 
and  brutal  ancestors  in  Africa,  and  also  with  that  of  the  negroes  liberated 
and  instructed  according  to  the  theoretical  plans  of  the  abolitionists  at 
Sierra  Leone  and  elsewhere,  it  will  be  found  that  abstract  principles 
and  practical  experience  are  widely  different ;  and  that  by  the  amelio- 
rated state  of  slavery  now  in  existence  in  the  West  Indies,  the  negroes 
are  gradually  acquiring  those  habits  of  industry,  and  that  mental  energy, 
which  is  absolutely  necessary  to  enable  them  to  sustain  all  the  relative 
duties  of  industrious  freemen.  If  this  improvement  has  taken  place 
therefore,  in  the  West  Indies,  and  if  every  other  attempt  to  improve  the 
negro  character  has  failed,  who  can  with  justice  affirm  that  our  colonial 
system  is  injurious  to  the  slave  ?  Sir  George  Murray  cannot  be  igno- 
rant of  these  facts  ;  and  if  he  forbore  to  state  them  with  a  view  of  conci- 
liating the  anti-colonists,  he  acted  unjustly  towards  the  planters,  and  to 
those  persons  throughout  the  country  who  look  to  official  quarters  for 
correct  information. 

His  other  assertion  is  equally  liable  to  great  misinterpretation.  It  is 
true  that  slavery  may  be  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  Christian  religion  ; 
but,  certainly,  although  slavery  "  was  a  part  of  the  civil  constitution  of 
most  countries  when  Christianity  appeared,  yet  no  passage  is  to  be  found 
in  the  Christian  scriptures  by  which  it  is  condemned  and  prohibited  ;"* 
on  the  contrary,  a  reference  to  the  epistles  of  the  great  Apostle  of  the 
Gentiles,  will  shew  that  the  state  of  slavery  was  expressly  recognized 
by  him ;  and  obedience  to  masters  strictly  enjoined  as  the  duties  of  a 
slave.  In  short,  "  Christianity  hath  left  all  temporal  governments  as  it 
found  them,  without  impeachment  of  any  form  or  description  what- 
ever," and  if  we  thus  find  a  state  of  bondage  expressly  sanctioned,  must 
not  that  individual  be  at  least  presumptuous  who  affirms  that  slavery 
is  forbidden  by  Christianity  ? 

The  best  method  of  conveying  religious  instruction  to  the  slaves  was, 
for  a  long  period,  a  desideratum  in  the  West  Indies.  The  exertions  of 

*  Dr.  Paley. 

3  G  2 


420  Sir  George  Murray  and  the  Sectarians.  [OCT. 

the  missionaries,  generally,  had,  in  the  first  instance,  a  beneficial  effect. 
Latterly,  however,  many  of  their  members  seem  to  have  abandoned  that 
sound  discretion  which  is  absolutely  necessary  in  preaching  to  bondsmen, 
and  by  which  the  efforts  of  St.  Paul,  in  converting  the  heathen,  were  so 
eminently  successful. 

If  the  negroes  in  any  particular  quarter  of  the  West  Indies  became 
discontented,  restless,  and  disobedient,  a  missionary  was  sure  to  be  at 
the  bottom  of  it ;  or,  if  local  dissensions  occurred,  a  missionary  was 
certain  of  having  caused  or  fomented  disagreements.  If  slanderous 
accusations  against  the  colonists  appeared  in  this  country,  it  was  generally 
traced  to  some  of  the  sectaries,  and  was  widely  circulated  by  their 
supporters  the  Anti-slavery  Society.  If  acts  for  the  amelioration  of 
slavery,  passed  by  the  colonial  legislatures,  happened  to  be  rejected  at 
home,  their  rejection  can  generally  be  traced  to  sectarian  influence,  and  if 
to  these  just  grounds  of  complaint  we  add  the  assertions  of  a  Committee 
of  the  House  of  Assembly  of  Jamaica,  namely,  that  "  the  missionaries 
preach  and  te.ach  sedition  from  the  pulpit,  and  by  misrepresentation 
and  falsehood  endeavour  to  cast  odium  upon  all  the  public  authorities 
of  the  island  ;"  and  that  "  the  consequences  have  been  abject  poverty, 
loss  of  comfort,  and  discontent  among  the  slaves  frequenting  their 
chapels,  and  deterioration  of  property  to  their  masters,"  can  it  be  matter 
of  surprise  that  their  ministration  should  no  longer  be  considered 
desirable,  and  that  the  colonists  should  prefer  giving  their  zealous 
support  to  the  sound  doctrines,  and  sober  views,  of  the  clergy  of  the 
churches  of  England  and  Scotland,  especially  the  former,  now  fully 
established  in  the  colonies  ?  It  is  also  affirmed,  that  missionaries  (the 
Moravians  alone  excepted)  have  adopted  extraordinary  modes  of  de- 
priving the  slaves  of  their  little  property.  By  the  sale  of  monthly 
tickets  at  tenpence  each,  and  by  enforcing  contributions  with  the 
most  persevering  and  persuasive  solicitations,  very  large  sums 
have  been  extorted  from  them.  It  is  stated  in  a  letter  from  Alexander 
Barclay,  Esq.,  a  gentleman  intimately  acquainted  with  the  state  of 
society  in  the  West  Indies,  to  Sir  George  Murray,  lately  published,  that 
one  of  these  missionaries,  by  his  own  confession,  collected  the  compara- 
tively enormous  sum  of  one  thousand  pounds,  in  the  short  space  of  two 
months,  amongst  poor  negroes  and  slaves,  and  that  his  quarterly  sale  of 
tickets  produced  from  £30  to  £40 ! 

These  tickets  are  small  slips  of  paper,  with  a  text  of  scripture  written 
on  each,  and  are,  according  to  the  Wesleyans  "  certificates  of  member- 
ship," but  to  every  one  acquainted  with  the  character  of  the  African, 
and  the  proneness  of  the  negro  to  superstitious  confidence  in  gris-gris, 
or  charms,  it  must  appear  evident  that  he  is  more  apt  to  consider  these 
tickets  in  the  light  of  a  defence  against  evil  in  this  world,  and  as  a 
passport  to  the  next,  than  as  mere  certificates  of  moral  conduct.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  however,  it  is  certainly  more  desirable  to  have  the  reli- 
gious education  of  the  negroes  conducted  by  clergymen  of  the  established 
church,  who  are  placed  above  the  temptation  of  having  recourse  to  these 
artful  practices  for  a  livelihood,  and  who  are  not  necessitated  to  deprive 
the  negroes  of  those  little  comforts  and  enjoyments  derived  from  the  fruits 
of  their  voluntary  labour,  and  of  that  cheerful  industry  which  it  is  so 
desirable  to  encourage  by  every  possible  means.  Need  we  say  more  in 
explanation  of  some  of  the  causes  of  disagreement  between  the  mis- 
sionaries and  the  colonists  ?  or,  looking  at  the  extensive  emoluments  of 
which  the  sectaries  are  likely  to  be  deprived,  need  we  be  surprised  at 
their  strenuous  exertions  to  maintain  fast  hold  of  the  purse-strings  of 


1830.]  Fate  of  the  Colonies.  421 

the  Creoles  ?  The  West  Indians  may  expect  to  be  assailed  by  every 
weapon  that  the  most  inveterate  malice  of  the  unscrupulous  anti-colo- 
nial party  can  wield  against  them.*  They  and  the  clergymen  of  the  esta- 
blished church  may  be  prepared  for  slanderous  misrepresentations,  and  to 
see  their  exertions  undervalued  and  derided  by  this  party,  who  have  in- 
deed already  gone  tolerable  lengths.  Let  the  following  extract  from 
a  recent  publication,  avowedly  by  the  Anti-Slavery  Society,  serve  as  a 
specimen.  After  abusing  almost  every  respectable  man  who  has  dared 
to  raise  his  voice  in  defence  of  the  Colonies,  it  proceeds  thus: — "Look 
at  the  island  of  Jamaica,  with  Mr.  Barret  as  their  organ  ; — at  the  Ba- 
hamas, with  their  governor  at  their  head ; — at  Bermuda ;  at  Nevis ;  at 
Grenada.  Look,  again,  at  the  planters  of  St.  Lucia ;  of  Berbice ;  of 
the  Mauritius : — nay,  look  at  the  collective  wisdom  of  the  whole  West 
India  body,  as  exemplified  in  its  writings,  which  have  recently  ap- 
peared in  this  very  city.  And,  as  if  there  were  no  exception  to  the 
influence  of  this  contagious  infatuation,  wherever  slavery  enters  as  an 
element,  look,  in  the  last  place,  to  the  many  excellent  men  who 
compose  the  governors  of  the  Christian  Societies  for  converting  the  Negro 
Slaves,  and  for  propagating  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts.  And  we 
shall  see  even  these  venerated  individuals,  when  they  come  in  contact 
with  the  Antilles,  at  once  yielding  up,  to  their  Creole  or  Creolized 
agents,  the  keeping,  as  it  were,  of  their  consciences,  and  the  guidance 
and  control  of  their  reason;  and  ranging  themselves,  unwittingly,  on 
the  side  of  falsehood,  imposture,  irreligion,  and  impiety  !  !  !" — This,  our 
readers  will  admit,  is  tolerably  well  for  a  beginning. 

Although,  for  the  reasons  already  stated,  we  object  to  the  domination 
of  missionaries  over  the  negroes,  let  it  not  be  supposed  that  we  are 
enemies  to  the  propagation  of  the  gospel,  or  that  we  are  advocates  for 
the  perpetuation  of  slavery,  or  are  biassed  by  any  other  considerations  than 
a  native  hatred  of  injustice,  and  a  contempt  and  disdain  of  cant  and  hypo- 
crisy. We  repeat  that  we  would  wish  to  see  the  negro  made  free  the 
instant  he  is  capable  of  appreciating  the  benefits  of  freedom ;  but  we  do 
not  approve  of  exertions  likely  to  end  in  the  Haitian  manner,  nor  of 
that  feeling  which  goes  to  destroy  the  exercise  of  Christian  charity  at 
home,  and  which  takes  the  bread  from  our  own  starving  poor,  to  waste 
it  on  fruitless,  because  indiscreet,  experiments  upon  Africans.  "  The 
whole  country,"  says  Dr.  Channing,  "  is  thrown  into  excitement,  to 
support  missions.  The  rich  are  taxed  and  the  poor  burdened.  We  do 
not  say  that  they  are  burdened  without  object ;  for  Christianity  is  so 
infinite  a  blessing  that  we  consent  to  any  honest  method  of  sending  it 
abroad.  But  what  is  the  amount  of  good  effected?  A  few  mis- 
sionaries, we  know  not  the  precise  number,  are  supported,  of  whom  most 
have  hitherto  brought  little  to  pass.  We  fear  that  the  error  is  spreading 
of  exalting  human  devices  above  our  natural  relations.  We  have  heard 
that  that  delicate  kindness  which  once  flowed  from  the  more  prosperous 
to  the  less  prosperous  members  of  a  large  family,  and  which  bound 
society  together  by  that  love  which  is  worth  all  bonds,  is  diminished 

*  Although  it  is  evident  that  the  destruction  of  our  West  Indian  Colonies  would  deprive 
this  country  of  a  direct  revenue  of  about  seven  millions  per  annum,  and  would  add, 
perhaps,  an  equal  sum  to  our  annual  expenditure  as  a  remuneration  to  the  planters  for  the 
loss  of  their  property — yet  candidates,  during  the  late  election,  have  not  scrupled  to 
pledge  themselves  to  abolish  slavery  and  reduce  taxation  !  and  the  sectaries  denounced, 
even  from  the  pulpit,  those  candidates  who  refused  to  pledge  themselves  to  these  incon- 
sistencies ! 


422  Sir  George  Murray  and  the  Sectarians.  £  OCT. 

since  the  last  excitement  in  favour  of  the  heathen.  And  this  we  do  not 
wonder  at.  In  truth  we  rather  wonder  that  any  thing  is  done  for  the 
temporal  comfort  of  friends,  where  the  doctrine,  on  which  modern 
missions  chiefly  rest,  is  believed.  We  refer  to  the  doctrine  that  the 
whole  heathen  world  are  on  the  brink  of  a  bottomless  and  endless  hell ; 
that  thousands  every  day,  and  millions  every  year,  are  sinking  into  this 
abyss  of  torture  and  woe;  and  that  nothing  can  save  them  but  sending 
them  out  religion !  We  see  not  how  they,  who  so  believe,  can  give 
their  families  or  friends  a  single  comfort,  much  less  an  ornament  of 
life.  They  must  be  strongly  tempted,  one  would  think,  to  stint  them- 
selves and  their  dependents  to  necessaries,  and  to  cast  their  whole 
remaining  substance  into  the  treasury  of  missionary  societies."  In  the 
eagerness  of  the  negroes  to  contribute  to  the  support  of  missionaries  by 
the  purchase  of  "  salvation"  tickets — a  desire  which  has  occasionally  led 
them  even  to  commit  theft  when  other  means  failed — we  can  trace 
strong  indications  of  a  similar  doctrine  having  been  impressed  on  their 
minds.  Yet,  in  the  face  of  all  these  facts,  Sir  George  Murray  is  said 
to  have  affirmed,  that  it  appeared  to  him  "  probable  that  the  missionaries, 
who  had  been  viewed  with  so  much  jealousy  at  Jamaica,  may  be,  in 
some  respects,  more  successful  instruments  in  teaching  the  gospel 
amongst  a  slave  population,  than  even  the  ministers  of  the  established 
church,  because,"  says  he,  "  a  little  tincture  of  enthusiasm  is  necessary, 
beyond  that  which  would,  perhaps,  be  proper,  or  desirable,  in  the 
ministers  of  the  established  church  ! ! !" 

Every  person  in  the  least  acquainted  with  the  state  of  parties  in  the 
West  Indies  will,  at  once,  perceive  that  a  more  unguarded  opinion  could 
scarcely  have  come  from  the  lips  of  a  minister  of  the  crown.  Govern- 
ment, for  the  purpose  of  instructing  the  negroes,  has  wisely  chosen  the 
episcopal  form,  as  being  best  calculated  to  secure  order,  uniformity,  and 
moderation,  and,  at  the  same  time  to  afford  full  scope  to  the  most  ardent 
arid  well  regulated  zeal :  but  this  declaration  cannot,  we  fear,  be  viewed 
in  any  other  light  than  as  a  direct  encouragement  to  the  fanatic,  and  as 
tending  to  paralyze  the  efforts  of  the  discreet  and  sober-minded.  We 
are  disposed  to  place  every  confidence  in  the  good  intentions  of  Sir 
George  Murray,  but  something  more  than  good  intentions  are  requisite 
to  the  due  discharge  of  the  important  duties  of  his  station ;  and  we  fear 
that,  in  more  instances  than  one,  he  has  allowed  his  own  judgment  to  be 
biassed  by  a  consideration  for  the  opinions  of  persons  inimical  to  the 
colonists,  and  who  are,  perhaps,  placed  too  near  to  him  in  office  : — need 
we  instance  the  late  extraordinary  proceedings  in  Tobago,  an  island, 
which  having  gone  greater  lengths  than  most  others  in  complying  with 
the  wishes  of  the  British  Parliament  in  regard  to  slave  amelioration, 
might,  on  that  account,  have  expected  reasonable  consideration,  or  at 
least  justice,  from  the  Colonial-office  ;  but  what  have  they  received  in 
return  for  their  dutiful  and  liberal  compliances  ?  A  South  American 
adventurer,  who  had  been  clerk  to  an  Edinburgh  writer  (solicitor), 
and  who  had  not  even  received  the  legal  education  of  a  common 
attorney,  arrived  at  a  particular  moment,  arid  by  his  subserviency  to  a 
former  governor,  had  got  himself  appointed  attorney-general.  He  was 
suspended  by  the  present  governor,  and  charges  of  the  most  serious 
nature,  such  as  for  taking  fees  from  both  sides,  and  other  disgraceful 
practices,  were  preferred  against  him.  He  came  to  England — contrived 
to  gain  the  ear  of  certain  persons  about  the  Colonial-office,  and  without 
any  opportunity  having  been  afforded  to  the  authorities  in  Tobago  for 


1830.]  Fate  of  the  Colonies.  423 

making  good  their  charges  against  him,  this  stickit  writer's  clerk,  this 
"  worm  and  maggot  of  the  law,"  was  reinstated  in  his  office,  and  sent 
back  in  a  manner  which  cannot  be  considered  otherwise  than  insulting 
to  the  community  which  had  expelled  him  !  What  have  been  the  conse- 
quences ?  General  Blackwell,  a  worthy  and  highly-respected  officer,  is 
said  to  have  felt  himself  deeply  insulted  by  this  extraordinary  proceed- 
ing :  the  acting  chief-justice,  the  speaker  of  the  assembly,  and  every 
member  of  council,  resigned — the  magistrates  refused  to  act  with  him, 
and  the  consequences  have  been  general  dissatisfaction,  much  confusion, 
no  courts  for  the  recovery  of  debts,  or  to  carry  on  the  legal  business  of 
the  colony;  and  attempts  have  been  made,  since  his  return,  to  sow 
discontent  amongst  the  slave  population  !  "  I  have  often/'  said  Mr. 
Keith  Douglas,  "  urged  this  case  on  my  right-honourable  friend,  and  I 
am  sorry  to  find  there  are  other  West  India  colonies  in  no  better  circum- 
stances \"  We  would  fain  hope  that  this  mode  of  treating  the  colonial 
authorities  will  not  be  persisted  in ;  and  that  the  proceedings,  during 
next  session  of  Parliament,  will  tend  to  re-establish  that  confidence 
which  ought  always  to  be  continued  between  Great  Britain  and  her 
dependencies.  We  are  not  yet,  however,  disposed,  like  the  writer  of 
the  pamphlet  before  us,  to  recommend  to  the  colonists  to  throw  off  all 
dependence  upon  the  wisdom  and  good  intentions  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment, more  especially  as  we  have  a  monarch  on  the  throne  who  is,  per- 
haps, better  acquainted  with  colonial  affairs  than  any  one  of  his  ministers ; 
and  there  is  now  also  a  disposition  evinced  to  inquire  into  the  depressed 
colonial  property,  with  a  view  to  affording  relief  to  the  suffering 
colonists. 

We  are  ready  to  admit  that  had  there  been  greater  union  of  effort  amongst 
the  West  Indians  at  home  and  abroad,  their  affairs  might  now  have  been 
in  a  better  condition.  "  What  stand/'  says  Mr.  Alexander,  "  have  the 
West  Indians,  as  a  body,  made  against  any  one  of  the  insidious  measures 
of  the  last  ten  years?  On  what  occasion  have  we  seen  a  dozen,  or  even 
half  that  number,  cordially  and  resolutely  united  against  the  minister  on 
any  question  where  your  interest  and  the  interest  of  the  colonies 
generally  has  been  at  stake  ?  When  the  society  of  Aldermanbury-street 
send  a  member  to  the  House  of  Commons,  they  invariably  select  a 
person  who  is  sure  to  support  them  in  all  their  schemes,  at  all  hazards. 
He  may  be  ministerial  on  other  questions.  He  may  exercise  his  own 
discretion  where  the  views  of  the  society  are  not  compromised ;  but  in 
all  questions  injurious  to  you  and  identified  with  their  projects,  the 
member  is  invariably  found  at  his  post,  reading  falsehoods  from  his 
brief,  slandering  you  per  order,  voting  against  you,  and  holding  you  up 
to  obloquy  and  reproach,  according  to  his  letter  of  instructions  ;"  and  he 
recommends  that  six  delegates  should  be  selected  and  sent  to  this 
country  to  oppose  the  Anti-colonists.  We,  however,  cannot  believe 
that  the  steady  loyalty  evinced  by  the  West  Indians,  under  every  pro- 
vocation, and  the  great  importance  of  these  valuable  possessions  to  the 
welfare  of  the  mother  country,  will  ever  be  overlooked  by  the  sober- 
minded  majority  of  the  British  nation.  Whenever  that  shall  unhappily 
be  the  case,  we  may  look  for  the  near  approach  of  great  public  cala- 
mities, and  it  will  then  be  in  the  western  world,  and  not  here,  that  the 
exertions  of  delegates  will  be  required,  for  the  protection  of  that  property 
which  the  disappointed  sectarians  have  devoted  to  destruction. 


[    424    ]  [OCT. 

SATAN  AND  HIS  SATELLITES. 

Not  by  Robert  Montgomery. 


One  from  the  critics  will  my  name  defend, 
And — more  abusive — calls  himself  my  friend." 

POPE. 


THE  Devil  was  sitting  .before  a  fire, 

That  blazed  at  least  ten  thousand  times  higher 

Than  thine,  oh  !  London,  that  played  such  tricks 

In  sixteen  hundred  and  sixty-six  ; 

And  whenever  the  flame  began  to  fail, 

He  rose — and  stirred  it  with  his  tail. 

He  rang  for  coffee,  and  took  a  cup, 

From  the  crater  whereof  kept  curling  up 

A  steam  as  dark  as  the  densest  cloud 

That  wraps  the  moon  in  a  midnight  shroud ; 

And  then,  as  he  scented  the  fragrant  vapours, 

He  called  for  the  morning  and  evening  papers. 

And  he  read  the  list  of  cares  and  crimes 

Spread  thickly  over  a  double  "  Times/' 

Which  he  held  with  his  finger  and  thumb,  as  though 

The  ' '  Times"  were  a  duodecimo ; 

But  rapture  burst  on  all  his  senses, 

When  he  came  to  the  "  Accidents  and  Offences  !" 

And  turning  then  to  the  "  List  of  Books," 

He  read  it  through  with  exulting  looks ; 

For  many  there  were  that  he  longed  to  see 

On  the  shelves  of  his  Family  Library. 

And  he  said  "  I'll  subscribe  if  they're  not  too  dear — 

They'll  encourage  the  March  of  Ignorance  here." 

His  eyes,  like  flambeaux  in  a  fog, 

Ran  flaming  all  over  the  catalogue, 

Till  they  found  a  something  that  made  him  pause ; 

And  he  grasped  the  paper  with  eager  claws, 

As  he  read,  amidst  columns  of  cant  arid  flummery, 

"  Satan,  a  Poem,  by  Robert  Montgomery." 

The  Devil  mused—"  Tis  odd,"  quoth  he, 

"  Such  fools  should  be  throwing  their  squibs  at  me ! 

Is  this  the  return  they  mean  to  shew 

For  giving  them  malice,  and  wives,  and  woe, 

And  envy  and  hatred,  fresh  from  hell, 

On  which  they  all  feed  and  flourish  so  well  ? 

"  I  gave  them  law,  by  which  they  may 

Ruin  each  other  in  half  a  day ; 

And  murder  and  war— still  drawing  a  line — 

That  heroes  might  dazzle,  and  judges  dine  j 

And  superstition  and  strange  disease, 

That  saints  and  physicians  might  earn  their  fees. 


1S30-]  Satan  hnd  his  Satellites.  425 

"  Yet  though  I  spread  such  silken  lures, 
The  rogues  will  publish  their  caricatures, 
In  poems  and  plays,  and  magazines — 
But  I'll  see  what  this  minstrel-meddler  means." 
And  giving  his  tail  a  graceful  shake, 
It  rang  like  that  of  a  rattle-snake. 

At  the  sound  of  that  bell,  so  justly  feared, 

A  little  footboy-fiend  appeared  ; 

A  dandy-demon,  droll  to  see, 

And  he  wore  the  Devil's  livery; 

A  small  and  sulphury  imp  of  ire, 

In  a  jacket  of  smoke  turned  up  with  fire. 

"  Mount,"  said  the  Devil,  "  on  pinions  fleet, 
And  fetch  me  my  Life  from  Newgate-street ; 
Newgate  is  not  far  off— so  fly  ! 
YouJlHind  the  people  you  want  close  by." 
The  light- winged  imp  flew  off  in  a  flame, 
And  in  two  or  three  minutes  the  volume  came. 

But  ah  !  what  a  fury  illumined  his  face, 
And  flashed  along  that  fiery  place, 
As  he  read — what  mortal  had  never  done — 
The  mangled  metaphors,  one  by  one  ! 
A  snake  was  in  each  mustachio's  hair, 
As  he  gazed  on  his  portrait  painted  there. 

Fierce  was  the  curl  of  the  lips  beneath, 

As  he  grinned  and  gnashed  his  terrible  teeth, 

That  seemed  a  huge  uneven  band, 

Like  the  piles  that  now  upon  Stonehenge  stand  ; 

And  the  voice  that  murmured  through  them  rolled 

Like  a  sound  in  St.  Paul's  when  the  bell  is  tolled. 

"  What  a  rebel  is  this,  to  libel  us, 

His  natural,  lawful  Inheritor,  thus  ! 

A  fellow  moreover  who  boldly  began 

His  career  in  my  service  by  libelling  man  ! 

I'll  buy  up  the  unsold  copies,  and  try 

If  they'll  make  enough  fire  to  roast  him  by. 

"  I  smile  at  those  who  describe  my  '  Walk,' 
Teaching  the  world  how  I  think  and  talk ; 
But  the  daring  conceit  these  pages  shew 
Transcends  all  impudence  left  below  ; 
Hypocrisy,  too,  is  so  plainly  displayed, 
It  almost  makes  one  ashamed  of  one's  trade. 

"  Yet  the  poem  will  serve  as  an  instrument 
Of  torture^  when  other  devices  are  spent" — 
And  he  called  to  one  who  was  writhing  about, 
And  told  him  to  read  the  poetry  out ; 
But  the  imp  declared  that  he'd  rather  dash 
Through  blaze  and  brimstone,  than  read  such  trash. 

Among  the  devils  the  feeling  passed — 
They  clung  to  their  gridirons  far  and  fast ; 
And  every  fiend  of  taste  preferred 
His  draught  of  sulphur  to  reading  a  word. 
All  were  disgusted— protesting  flat 
That  boiling  lead  was  better  than  that. 
M.M.  New  Series — VOL.  X.  No.  58.  3  H 


426  Satan  and  his  Satellites.  [OcT. 

Now  the  Devil  began  to  ponder  hard 

For  a  fine  revenge  on  the  libellous  bard  j 

"  Though  ignorant  now,"  he  was  heard  to  cry, 

"  He'll  know  me  better  by  and  by." 

Then  over  his  face  there  came  a  smile, 

That  widened  his  mouth  almost  a  mile. 

He  smiled  to  remember  that,  during  his  flight 
Through  earth,  he  had  stumbled  against  a  wight, 
A  critic  obscure,  whom  he  viewed  with  scorn, 
Yet  one  that  seemed  for  absurdities  born ; 
A  dreary  drudge,  upon  whom  some  dark  son 
Of  malice  inflicted  the  name  of  C n. 

This  scribbler,  as  sparks  are  struck  from  flint, 
Had  forced  a  few  paragraphs  into  print ; 
And  flourished  his  Latin,  with  fierce  intent, 
Till  he  almost  fancied  he  knew  what  it  meant ; 
But  he  had,  above  every  earthly  thing, 
A  glorious  talent  for  blundering. 

And  the  Devil  knew  well,  if  he  could  but  hook 

Such  a  personage  in  to  puff  the  book, 

To  praise  the  poet,  and  liken  his  line 

To  Milton's,  'twould  be  a  revenge  divine  ! 

And  he  said,  "  I'll  throw  my  spells  about, 

And  spur  him  to  bring  a  pamphlet  out !" 

Right  joyously  then  did  he  chuckle  and  sing, 
When  he  found  how  his  schemes  were  triumphing—- 
When he  saw  such  a  critic  sit  down  to  puff 
A  bard  who  could  never  be  puffed  enough  ; 
And  the  frog-like  poet,  at  every  word, 
Grew  more  inflated  and  more  absurd  ! 

And  he  felt,  when  he  heard  how  the  laughter  ran, 

No  longer  an  ill-used  gentleman ; 

"  For,"  said  he,  "  'tis  a  kind  of  infernal  bliss 

To  ruin  one's  foe  with  a  friend  like  this ; 

If  as  lights  of  the  world  they  affect  to  shine, 

We  shall  see  how  they  like  the  lights  of  mine. 

Then  he  thought  that  if  fools  should  multiply  thus, 
'Twould  be  well  to  establish  an  Omnibus, 
To  run  to  the  earth ;  but  he  felt  rather  shocked 
Lest  his  kingdom  should  soon  be  overstocked; 
And  he  sent  Mr.  Malthus  a  warm  invitation 
To  come  and  survey  the  increased  Population. 

"  Though  editors  now  are  by  no  means  few," 
He  said  "  I'll  become  an  Editor  too, 
I'll  start  such  a  work  as  hath  seldom  been  seen, 
For  I'll  call  it  *  The  Gunpowder  Magazine !' 
And  blow  up  the  earth  till  I  leave  not  an  ember- 
No.  I.  to  appear  on  the  fifth  of  November." 


1830.]  [    427    ] 

FATHER  MURPHY'S  DREAM. 

I  AM  tempted,  by  the  publication  of  a  work  entitled  "  The  Divines 
of  the  Church  of  England/'  to  undertake  "  The  Priests  of  the  Papist 
Church  of  Ireland/'  My  materials  are  voluminous,  and  of  a  nature  quite 
new  and  strange  to  religious  readers.  I  am  satisfied  that  the  originality 
would  be  altogether  on  my  side.  What  is  Bishop  Sherlock  in  compa- 
rison with  Bishop  Doyle  ?  Will  Atterbury  bear  comparison  with  Keogh  ? 
Will  not  Hurd  and  Paley  sink  into  insignificance  before  O'Gallagher 
and  Mullowney  ?  We  have  euphony  as  well  as  theology  in  our  favour. 
When  Clarke,  the  celebrated  linguist,  discovered  in  "  Genesis"  that  the 
serpent  was  condemned,  as  a  punishment  for  his  primeval  crime,  to 
"  creep  upon  his  belly,"  he  very  naturally  concluded  that  he  must  have 
originally  walked  upon  his  tail :  so  we,  seeing  that  it  has  been  thought 
necessary  to  collect  the  works  of  the  English  Divines,  in  order  that  the 
public  may  be  put  in  possession  of  them,  concluded  that  the  public 
must  have  hitherto  known  nothing  about  them.  Now  the  works  of  the 
Irish  Priests  have  never  been  collected,  which  we  take  to  be  a  satisfac- 
tory proof,  agreeably  to  this  mode  of  reasoning,  that  the  public  are  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  their  beauties.  This  consideration  leads  us  to 
think,  that  a  selection  of  picked  excellences,  by  way  of  a  pocket  com- 
pendium of  priestly  divinity,  would  be  more  useful  than  an  elaborate 
edition  of  the  whole.  People  who  will  not  read  encyclopedias  are  some- 
times induced  to  peep  into  anthologies.  The  man  who  wants  courage  to 
scale  Mount  Olympus  may,  if  he  be  in  a  sunny  mood,  ascend  the  little 
hill  in  Greenwich  Park,  to  have  a  peep  at  the  sky  through  the  pension- 
er's telescope.  Our  divine  scraps,  therefore,  shall  be  of  this  accessible 
kind.  They  shall  not  present  the  difficulties  of  the  encyclopedia,  or  the 
toils  of  Olympus : — they  shall  be  brief,  and  easy  of  attainment. 

As  the  old  French  priesthood  declined,  in  consequence  of  the  encou- 
ragement given  to  the  home-breed  by  the  establishment  of  Maynooth 
College,  the  appearance  of  what  is  for  convenience  called  a  gentleman 
became  a  great  rarity  amongst  the  Irish  Catholic  divines.  Any  set  of 
people  who  are  determined  to  make  the  most  of  an  evil  which  they  can- 
not avert,  will  readily  find  an  excuse  for  putting  up  with  it,  or  of  even 
sophisticating  themselves  into  a  belief  that  it  is  a  positive  good.  So  the 
Catholics,  even  of  the  better  order,  console  themselves  for  the  vulgarity 
and  mauvaise  honte  of  their  priesthood,  by  the  reflection  that  their  king- 
dom is  not  of  this  world,  and  that  their  deficiencies  in  the  mere  cere- 
monials of  society  are  caused  by  their  devotion  to  their  religious  duties. 
This  kind  of  apology  for  secular  deformities,  is  but  an  ingenious  assump- 
tion of  superior  clerical  perfections ;  while  it  skilfully  involves  a  sly 
satire  upon  the  Protestant  clergy,  who,  it  must  be  presumed,  cannot  be 
very  spiritual,  since  they  are  gentlemen  in  their  temporal  intercourse. 
Indeed,  to  affect  the  gentleman  would  be  a  dangerous  experiment  for  a 
priest.  He  would  lose  caste  by  it.  His  influence  in  the  next  world 
would  cease  if  he  attempted  to  act  with  any  deference  towards  the 
refinements  of  this.  There  are  certainly  some  few  awkward  Pelham-like 
persons  in  the  priesthood  ;  but  they  are  either  pronounced  to  be  good- 
natured  and  harmless,  or  they  are  tolerated  for  the  sake  of  young  ladies, 
who  may,  it  is  supposed,  "  commit  flirtation"  with  a  beau  of  that  inno- 
cent description  with  impunity.  But  even  amongst  these  solitary  excep- 
tions to  the  general  mass  of  illiterateness  and  coarseness,  the  more  ele- 

3  H  2 


428  Father  Murphy's  Dream.  [Octf. 

gant  accomplishments  of  life  are  utterly  unknown.  The  utmost  they 
aspire  to  is  a  meretricious  finery — a  mincing  gallantry — a  lisp  in  speak- 
ing— an  air  of  heedlessness — and  some  little  ambition  in  dress.  I  have 
known  many  priests,  and  never  met  but  one  who  pretended  to  possess 
any  acquaintance  with  English  literature  (bad  Latin  is.  their  vernacular). 
He,  poor  fellow,  used  to  quote  Milton,  and  even  defended  the  subli- 
mities of  Don  Juan.  But  he  was  sadly  out  in  his  judgment.  His  criti- 
cisms were  enthusiastic,  but  faulty,  and  even  contradictory  in  principle. 
He  has  paid  the  penalty  of  seeking  for  the  springs  of  delight  beyond  the 
dark  confines  of  dogmatic  theology.  His  brethren  declared  him  insane, 
and  unfit  for  his  ministry.  That  was,  of  course,  to  preserve  the  pulpit 
from  the  pollution  of  a  taste  chastened  by  cultivation.  He  is  now  wast- 
ing an  imagination  run  to  seed  in  the  gloomy  chambers  of  a  lunatic 
asylum ! 

There  are  two  distinct  classes  of  priests — the  country  and  the  town 
priests.  The  former  are  richer  in  all  the  materials  of  Hibernicism  than 
their  more  aspiring  fellows,  who  live  in  cities  and  mix  with  people  who 
move  in  the  world.  They  generally  speak  the  Irish  language  fluently,  are 
accustomed  to  the  habits  of  the  peasantry,  and  make  their  knowledge  of 
low  life  subservient  to  the  improvement  of  their  local  influence.  Thus 
the  sermons  of  these  pastors  are  familiar  to  the  capacity  of  their  congre- 
gations ;  and  are  generally  found  to  illustrate  the  truths  of  Christianity, 
and  the  doctrines  of  the  Roman  creed,  by  images  drawn  from  the  occu- 
pations, and  adapted  to  the  mental  condition  of  the  people.  We  will 
conclude  this  article  with  a  specimen  of  one  of  these  addresses,  in  which 
the  priest,  by  an  adroit  admixture  of  the  simple  and  the  mysterious, 
endeavours  to  enforce  the  heavenly  origin  and  immaculate  purity  of  his 
religion.  It  may  be  entitled, 

THE  PRIEST'S  DREAM. 

DON'T  be  making  such  a  noise  over  there,  shutting  and  opening  that 
door,  while  I'm  preaching.  It's  hard  for  the  word  of  God  to  be  spread 
amongst  ye  when  it's  chewing  tobacco  and  spoiling  your  mouths  ye  are, 
instead  of  listening  to  me. — Shut  your  teeth,  Jemmy  Finn,  or  the  flies 
will  get  down  your  throat,  and  bother  your  stomach  entirely. — Now, 
can  any  of  ye  tell  me  what's  the  reason  that,  when  you've  nothing  to  eat, 
—which,  God  help  you,  is  no  fault  of  your  own, — you  don't  die  for 
want  of  nourishment  ? — There's  a  puzzler  for  you,  Jem  Neale,  big  as 
you  are  ! 

Now  just  turn  that  problem  in  your  heads  while  I'm  seeing  whether 
the  water  is  drying  out  of  my  new  coat ; — sure  enough  it's  the  only  one 
I  have. 

[A  pause  of  wonder  in  the  chapel,  while  the  priest  descends  from  the 
altar  to  see  after  his  coat.  It  is  evident,  from  the  confusion  visible  in  the 
faces  of  the  audience,  that  the  problem  is  a  poser.  The  priest  returns.] 

Well,  there's  never  a  one  among  ye  can  find  out  the  reason  of  the  life 
that's  in  ye,  in  spite  of  the  starvation.  Sure,  that's  the  use  of  the  priest, 
to  shew  you  what  you  can't  see  of  yourselves.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the 
moving  bog  ?  It  walked  over  Cavan  and  Armagh,  dripping  rain  the 
whole  way,  and  sorrow  a  clod  of  turf  on  it  but  belonged  to  the  Orange- 
men. The  cause  of  that  is  as  plain  as  the  blossoms  on  Pat  Duggan's 
ugly  nose.  You  never  knew  of  a  moving  bog  of  real  Catholic  turf. 


1830.]  Father  Murphy's  Dream.  429 

No  such  thing.  And  that's  the  reason  why  the  starvation  doesn't  kill  ye. 
But  just  try  your  hands  upon  the  Bible — turn  over  to  the  Methodists — 
and  then  see  how  a  mouthful  of  cold  wind  will  do  you  for  your  break- 
fasts. Once  you  think  of  fasting  and  turning  Protestants,  you're  done 
for  as  neat  and  clean  as  if  Ould  Nick  was  drilling  you  through  and 
through  with  a  red-hot  poker.  Doesn't  that  expound  to  you  the  source 
of  the  eating  and  gormandizing  of  the  Brunswickers  ?  They  eat  and 
drink  hearty,  you  see,  because  they  know  well  enough,  the  spalpeens, 
although  they  won't  acknowledge  it,  that  the  true  faith  isn't  in  them, 
and  that  if  they  didn't  feed  like  crammed  fowl  six  times  a  day,  and 
double  as  much  on  a  Sunday,  they'd  pine  away  into  the  clay  under  their 
feet.  But  that  isn't  the  way  with  the  true  church.  The  faith  keeps  you 
up.  Didn't  the  Savour  of  the  world  starve  himself  forty  days  and  nights 
to  shew  you  the  way  to  glory  ?  and  sure  there's  many  a  one  of  you  didn't 
pass  bite  or  sup  for  months  upon  months  together,  and  the  never  a 
worse  are  you  for  it  in  the  end.  There's  nothing  can  kill  a  Catholic 
but  his  own  bad  works.  The  soul  of  me  doesn't  know  but  you'd  all 
live  for  ever,  only  for  something  or  other  that  happens  to  ye  just  as 
you're  nearly  perfect,  and  whips  you  off  with  a  flea  in  your  ear.  Och  ! 
then,  if  you  could  only  mend  yourselves,  what  a  beautiful  race  of 
blackguards  ye'd  be  j  that  would  want  neither  the  meat  nor  the  butter- 
milk, and  that'd  be  as  ould  as  the  hills  every  morning  ye'd  see  the  grass 
growing.  There  ye'd  all  be  on  the  day  of  judgment  as  hearty  as  a  hive 
of  bees,  with  your  grey  hair  twisted  down  into  breeches  and  top-boots 
to  cover  your  dirty  hides.  Shame  upon  ye,  that  won't  be  Methuselahs 
every  one,  when  you  know  you  could  live  if  you  liked  it  until  there 
wouldn't  be  a  living  soul  in  the  world  but  Alderman  Bradley  King, 
cocked  up  on  the  back  of  an  ass  to  direct  you  on  the  road  to  Purgatory. 
Think  o'  that,  and  pay  your  dues,  and  there's  no  fear  o'  you. 

You  remember,  the  other  day,  that  the  Biblemen  challenged  us  to 
come  to  the  fore  in  regard  to  the  Scriptures.  They  wanted,  you  see,  to 
prove  as  clear  as  mud  that  the  notes  were  written  with  the  wrong  end 
of  a  pen,  and  that  they  had  as  much  right  to  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment, as  we  that  had  them  from  the  beginning,  and  that  only  lent  them 
out  o'  charity  to  the  Protestants,  just  as  Molly  Kiernan  would  lend  her 
pitcher  to  Kitty  Nowlan,  expecting  she'd  return  it  when  she'd  done 
with  it.  But  the  Protestants  made  a  bad  use  of  the  loan,  and  got  other 
Scriptures  made  from  the  pattern,  just  as  you  would  get  false  keys 
made  to  pick  a  lock  :  so  now  they  trump  up  their  spurious  books  to  us, 
that  have  the  real  books  of  our  own,  and  that  never  had  any  other.  It's 
no  wonder  we  are  careful  of  them,  for  we  were  treated  so  badly  when 
we  lent  them  in  pure  friendship,  that  it  would  be  no  sin  in  us  to  burn  'em 
altogether,  for  fear  we'd  make  such  born  fools  of  ourselves  again. 

You  know  I  didn't  go  to  the  meeting,  boys  ;  and  may  be  you  thought 
it  mighty  odd  that  I  staid  at  home,  and  let  Father  Audy  go  in  my 
place.  But  I'll  soon  shew  you  the  meaning  o'  that ;  although  one  priest 
at  a  time  is  enough  for  a  regiment  of  saints,  and  Father  Audy  is  no  bad 
fist  at  a  controversy.  Indeed,  Father  Audy,  you  needn't  look  down  at 
your  shoes  as  if  the  strings  wanted  tying  ;  for  it's  a  vicar  you  ought  to 
be,  and  I  a  bishop,  if  every  body  had  his  rights. 

It  was  a  dream  I  had  that  kept  me  from  going.  Now  when  a  priest 
condescends  to  dream,  you  may  be  sure  there's  something  going  to 
happen.  The  ass  doesn't  bray  unless  there's  to  be  rain ;  the  corns  on 


430  Father  Murphy  s  Dream.  [OCT. 

your  little  toe  pinch  you  for  rain  too  :  and  the  ducks  wander  about  as 
if  they  were  after  swallowing  love-powders,  when  the  weather's  going  to 
be  uncommon  hot.  And  just  like  that  is  a  priest's  dream,  only  with  this 
difference — that  the  wonder  o'  the  world,  instead  of  a  paltry  puddle  of 
a  shower,  or  a  splitting  heat,  is  coming  upon  you.  A  priest  wouldn't 
waste  his  time  dreaming  for  rain,  hail,  or  snow,  or  fine  weather,  or  any 
thing  o'  the  kind  ;  for  he  can  get  them  at  any  time  for  the  bare  asking 
o'  them : — no,  he  dreams  for  a  vortex  or  a  cornucopia ;  and  them  are 
mysteries  that  you  know  nothing  at  all  about. 

The  night  before  the  meeting — that  was  last  Tuesday — (how  is  your 
head  now,  Father  Audy  ?) — we  were  sitting,  Father  Audy  and  myself, 
settling  all  the  points  that  were  to  be  unravelled  the  next  day.  I  don't 
know  how  it  was,  but  for  the  soul  of  me  I  couldn't  persuade  myself  but 
that  there  was  a  drop  of  Protestant  poison  in  the  whiskey — you  know 
they  stop  at  nothing — so  I  was  resolved  to  see  it  out,  arid  then,  if  I 
found  that  they  poisoned  me,  to  work  a  miracle  upon  myself  that  would 
frighten  them  out  of  their  wits.  With  this  pious  resolution,  Father 
Audy  and  myself  penetrated  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  only  two  or  three 
bottles  we  had  ;  and  then,  as  well  as  we  could,  considering  the  poison, 
went  to  sleep.  You  may  be  sure  I  was  determined  that  if  I  awoke  and 
found  myself  dead,  not  to  lose  a  minute  until  I'd  bring  myself  to  life 
.again,  extract  the  poison,  and  send  it  in  a  letter  to  Dr.  Doyle. 

I  wasn't  over  an  hour  in  bed,  when  I  thought  I  heard  somebody  call- 
ing, "  Father  Murphy." — "  That's  me,"  says  I ;  "  who  wants  me  ?" — 
"  Only  a  friend  of  your's,  Father  Tom,"  says  the  voice. — "  It's  lucky 
you're  come,"  says  I,  thinking  it  was  daylight;  "for  if  you'd  been 
five  minutes  later,  you  might  be  groping  for  me  at  the  fair  of  Athy." 

With  that,  I  thought  I  sat  up  in  my  arm-chair,  for  I  had  no  notion 
that  I  was  fast  asleep  in  bed ;  and  who  do  you  think  it  was  that  was 
standing  beside  me  ?  You  may  save  yourselves  the  trouble  of  guessing, 
for  you  couldn't  guess  who  it  was  if  you  were  to  get  a  new  set  of  eyes, 
and  think  until  you  were  stone-blind.  It  was  a  beautiful  young  angel, 
spick  and  span  out  of  heaven ;  and  such  an  angel  as  I,  that  have  seen 
bushels  of  them,  never  saw  before. 

"  The  top  o'  the  morning  to  you,  ma'am  !"  says  I,  for  she  was  a  lady, 
one  of  the  ould  sort — "  it's  welcome  you  are  to  me  this  blessed  day." 

"  Father  Tom,"  says  she,  shaking  me  by  the  hand  as  friendly  as  if 
she  knew  me  all  her  life,  "  I  want  you  to  come  out  and  take  a  walk 
with  me." 

"  And  what'll  you  take,  ma'am,"  says  I,  c(  before  you  go  ?"  for  as  I 
was  beholden  to  her  for  her  goodness,  I  was  bound  to  treat  her  respect- 
fully. 

Never  a  word  she  said  to  that,  but  putting  her  finger,  that  was  as  white 
as  a  shaving,  and  as  taper  as  sparrow-grass,  upon  her  little  mouth,  she 
shook  her  head,  and  walked  on  before  me.  There  she  went  without 
making  the  least  noise,  just  as  if  her  feet — for,  like  yourselves,  the  angels 
never  wear  shoes — were  made  of  velvet.  Well,  I  thought,  I'd  follow 
her  in  the  same  manner ;  but,  as  if  there  was  an  evil  eye  over  me,  the 
first  step  I  took  I  tripped  up  an  old  basket  that  was  lying  on  the  ground, 
and  the  angel  turning  one  look  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  What's 
coming  over  you,  that  you're  making  such  a  clatter,  Father  Tom  ?" 
shook  her  pretty  little  hand  at  me,  and  then,  with  a  beautiful  laugh  all 
over  her  face,  walked  on  again  as  if  nothing  at  all  had  happened 


1830.]  Father  Murphy's  Dream.  431 

I  needn't  tell  you  what  strange  places  we  went  through.  It  isn't  for* 
you  to  be  losing  your  senses,  thinking  of  green  fields,  where  every 
daisy  was  a  two-and-sixpenny  bit,  and  the  cowslips  were  all  gold  guineas. 
It  isn't  for  such  as  the  likes  o'  ye  to  be  thrusting  your  dirty  faces  into  the> 
parlours,  and  the  pantries,  and  the  barns,  all  slated  with  loaf-bread,  and 
the  floors  all  washed  clean  with  Cork  whiskey  (it  was  so  plenty  in  the 
place),  nor  to  come  axing  my  leave  to  taste  the  shins  of  beef  and  the 
bull  turkies  that  were  waiting  to  be  eat  up  on  the  tables,  that  the  angel 
and  I  saw  as  we  went  along.  But  where  do  ye  think  we  got  to  at  last  ? 
Now  I'll  hold  a  noggin  of  melted  butter  to  a  farthing  candle  that  you 
think  we  went  down  to  Tim  Murphy's,  to  spend  the  day  playing  nine- 
pins. There  ye're  out ;  the  angel  wouldn't  offer  to  cross  the  threshold 
of  the  door,  for  fear  of  soiling  her  Spanish  leather  dancing-pumps  that 
she  carried  in  her  hand,  in  the  regard  that  she  wouldn't  spoil  their 
shapes  on  her  feet.  As  to  nine-pins,  the  angels  never  play  anything 
but  backgammon  and  the  five-fingers  ;*  and  it's  themselves  that'd  give 
you  the  whole  pack  of  cards,  and  beat  you  as  hollow  as  St.  Patrick  beat 
the  sea-serpent  off  the  rock  of  Cashel. 

It  is  wonderful  how  murdering  fast  the  same  angels  can  walk.  I 
couldn't  see  a  strin  of  light  for  the  hurry  I  was  in  following  her.  The 
trees,  and  the  topazes,  and  the  brick  houses  danced  up  and  down  in  my 
eyes  as  I  whirled  along  after  her ;  not  but  that  I  often  wanted  to  stop  and 
draw  my  breath,  when  she'd  turn  sudden  on  me,  and  with  one  whistle 
through  her  little  finger,  bring  me  up  again,  just  as  if  I  was  a  grey- 
hound, and  couldn't  help  myself  for  the  bare  life. 

At  last  we  came  to  a  dark  place,  where  there  was  nothing  but  trees, 
and  a  big  bank  covered  over  with  ribbed  grass  and  potatoe-blossoms. 
"  Stop  there/7  says  she,  "  say  nothing,  but  make  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
and  look,  and  you  shall  see." 

Whoo  !  away  flew  the  trees  and  the  bank,  just  as  if  they  were  birds, 
and  in  a  minute  more  I  saw,  at  a  great  distance,  two  gentlemen  coming 
towards  me  down  the  lane.  I  thought  they  were  gentlemen  when  they 
were  far  off;  but  as  they  got  near  me,  I  found  out  that  one  of  them  was 
Ould  Nick  himself,  and  the  other  was  St.  Peter.  Sure  I  might  have 
known  them  both  by  the  smell  j  for  the  devil  smelt  strong  of  sulphurx 
and  St.  Peter  had  a  breath  coming  out  of  his  nose  that  was  as  like  the 
smell  of  burned  turf  as  the  steam  that  comes  out  of  Mrs.  Larkin's 
whiskey-boiler.  The  devil  was  dressed,  as  became  him,  like  a  Peeler,t 
with  a  terrible  sword  by  his  side,  and  a  club-foot  sticking  up  behind 
like  a  bull's-horn.  And  may-be  he  hadn't  a  Bible  under  his  arm,  and  a 
bundle  of  tracts  in  his  hand.  But  St.  Peter,  who  hasn't  the  least  pride, 
was  just  dressed  as  I  am  in  broadcloth,  and  looked  for  all  the  world 
like  a  parish-priest.  And  a  well-looking  saint  he  is — a  fine,  comely  man 
as  you'd  meet  in  a  day's  walk.  I  don't  know  any  saint  in  the  calendar 
equal  to  him  for  manners  and  gentility,  except  St.  Patrick.  To  be 
sure  our  own  patron-saint  is  at  the  top  of  the  list.  All  he  wants  is  a 
bunch  of  keys  to  make  him  complete. 

Just  as  they  were  coming  down  upon  me,  as  I  thought,  St.  Peter 
stopped  suddenly,  and,  putting  his  hand  on  the  devil's  arm,  cried  out — 

"  Now,  if  you  please,  we'll  just  talk  that  little  matter  over  that  we 

*  A  popular  game  of  cards  amongst  the  Irish,  known  also  by  the  name  of  Five  and  ten. 
-f-  A  policeman. 


432  Father  Murphy'*  Dream.  [Ocr. 

were  speaking  of  last  night.     This  is  a  convenient  place,  and  there's 
nobody  to  hear  us, 'unless  Father  Tom  that  I  appointed  to  meet  us." 

"  It's  all  the  same  to  me,"  replied  Ould  Nick,  with  as  much  impu- 
dence as  if  he  was  a  member  of  Parliament. 

"  Then,  first  of  all,"  said  St.  Peter,  "  put  down  the  book  and  the 
tracts,  and  answer  me  one  question." 

<c  Twenty,  if  you  like,"  answered  the  devil,  putting  the  book  upon 
the  ground,  and  the  tracts  one  by  one  over  it. 

"  What  religion  are  you  ?"  said  St.  Peter,  looking  him  full  in  the 
face,  as  if  he'd  read  the  soul  that  was  inside  of  him.  But  the  ould  boy 
didn't  seem  to  like  that  question,  and  was  for  shuffling  it  off,  when  St. 
Peter  put  it  to  him  again  in  such  a  manner  as  he  was  forced  to  answer 
it,  whether  he  would  or  not. 

"  I'm  a  Protestant,  to  be  sure,"  replied  the  devil  at  last ;  and  he 
coloured  scarlet  up  to  the  very  eyes  as  he  spoke  it,  as  if  he  was  ashamed 
of  owning  it  to  St.  Peter. 

"  That's  all  I  wanted  to  have  from  your  own  lips,"  said  St.  Peter, 
"  because  as  I  often  heard  that  the  devil  can  quote  Scripture  for  his  own 
purposes,  I  was  determined  to  find  out  where  he  got  the  learning.  Now, 
sit  down  here  beside  me  quiet  and  easy,  and  tell  me  a  little  more  that  I 
want  to  hear  from  you." 

Down  they  both  sat  upon  the  sod,  the  devil  looking  as  if  he  didn't 
half  like  it ;  but  being  afraid  to  disoblige  St.  Peter,  on  account  of  the 
great  power  he  has  over  him  through  the  means  of  the  church. 

"  How  is  Martin  Luther  ?"  said  St.  Peter,  after  a  little. 

"  Indeed,  he's  no  worse  than  he  was,"  replied  the  devil ;  "  he  has  as 
much  Newcastle  coal  over  him  as  I  can  spare." — [You  know,  boys,  the 
coal  is  dear  at  this  season  of  the  year.] 

"  I  think  it's  almost  time  to  tell  the  poor  Catholics,"  said  St.  Peter, 
<(  Jhow  that  fellow  betrayed  them,  and  how  it  was  that  the  Reformation 
was  only  a  ruction*  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth's,  in  the  regard  of  his  wife, 
that  the  good  Pope  wouldn't  allow  him  to  put  her  away ;  for  you  know 
very  well  that  it's  all  your  doings,  Mr.  Nicholas  [you  see  St.  Peter 
spoke  civil  to  him,  for  peace  and  quietness],  to  make  the  Bible  people 
go  about  slandering  the  Holy  Church." 

"  Then  what  would  you  have  me  do,  St.  Peter  ?"  answered  the 
devil ;  "  sure  if  it  wasn't  for  the  Bible  people  I  wouldn't  have  a  born 
creature  to  keep  me  company,  and  all  the  brimstone  would  be  burnt  out 
for  nothing.  It  isn't  for  me  to  go  to  confession  and  get  absolution,  now 
that  I'm  thriving  upon  the  lies  for  upwards  of  a  million  of  years." 

"  True  for  you,"  says  St.  Peter ;  "  only  as  I'm  a  real  Catholic,  and 
an  Irishman  into  the  bargain,  I  can't  stand  by  and  see  such  murder  going 
on  under  my  very  eyes.  Now,  here's  Father  Tom,  as  decent  a  man  as 
any  in  all  Ireland, — and  that's  saying  more  than  if  I  was  to  search  all 
over  the  earth  for  the  likes  of  him  ; — he  hasn't  as  much  to  live  upon  as 
Sir  Harcourt  Lees  feeds  one  of  his  horses  with ;  the  people,  you  see, 
don't  take  it  to  heart,  but  pretend  to  be  very  poor,  because  the  Bible- 
men  make  them  pay  tithes;  and  then,  when  Easter  and  Christmas  come 
round,  they've  always  the  ready  excuse  that  the  proctor  took  their  pigs, 
and  their  poultry,  and  their  firkins  of  butter.  If  Father  Tom  had  his 
deservings,  he'd  have  all  the  tithes  to  himself,  and  be  rolling  in  his  car- 

*  A  row,  or  fight. 


1830.]  Father  Murphy" a  Dream.  433 

riage.  Instead  of  that,  he  has  hardly  a  drop  to  wet  his  lips ;  and  many's 
the  fast-day  he's  obliged  to  eat  a  rasher  of  bacon  for  dinner,  because  he 
can't  get  a  bit  of  fish  or  a  whisp  of  cabbage  for  love  or  money.  Now 
tell  the  honest  truth,  and  no  shame  to  you— isn't  this  meeting  that's  to 
take  place  to-morrow  entirely  instigated  by  yourself,  that  the  Bible 
people  may  get  a  heap  of  money  out  of  the  pockets  of  the  poor  Catho- 
lics ?" 

"  I'll  tell  no  lie  about  it,"  said  Ould  Nick,  "  it's  entirely  a  child  of 
my  own/' 

f(  Mind  that,  Father  Tom,"  said  St.  Peter,  in  a  whisper,  winking  over 
slily  at  me.  ff  And  tell  me  also,  Mr.  Nicholas,"  said  he,  "  didn't  they 
put  some  ugly  drops  into  Father  Tom's  little  cruiskeen,  that  they  might 
prevent  him  from  going  to  the  meeting-house  to  expose  them?" 

"  You're  too  hard  upon  me,"  said  the  devil,  scratching  his  head,  as  if 
he  didn't  know  what  to  say ;  "  but  if  I  was  to  speak  the  truth,  I  don't 
think  there's  one  amongst  them  but  would  poison  the  priests,  root  and 
branch." 

"  And  wouldn't  it  be  the  sin  of  the  world  for  Father  Tom  to  waste 
his  time  making  speeches,  and  argufying  with  them,  when  it's  of  no 
manner  of  use  at  all ;  and  when  you  know  very  well,  that  the  more  he'd 
talk  to  them,  the  worse  they'd  be  after  ;  and  that  all  they'd  do  would  be 
to  pick  up  the  knowledge  that  would  fall  from  him  as  plentiful  as  black- 
berries in  summer,  and  then  go  about  the  country  passing  it  off  as  their 
own  ?" 

"  I'll  have  no  more  to  do  with  you,"  said  the  devil,  getting  into  a  great 
passion,  and  taking  up  the  Bible  and  the  tracts  ;  et  you  wouldn't  leave 
me  a  skreed  to  put  on  me,  if  you  could  :  so  I'll  follow  my  own  way,  and 
go  home  and  write  advertisements  for  another  meeting  somewhere 
else." 

"  Then  I'd  advise  you,"  said  St.  Peter,  ee  never  to  have  a  meeting 
in  Father  Tom's  neighbourhood  again ;  for  you  see  you're  defeated  this 
time,  and  will  be  as  long  as  your  head  is  hot." 

With  that  St.  Peter  put  up  his  finger  to  his  nose,  and  after  nodding  his 
head  at  me,  got  up  on  horseback  on  a  horse  that  was  waiting  for  him,  and 
rode  off,  leaving  the  devil  in  a  dolderum  behind  him.  Just  at  that  moment 
there  was  a  roar  like  an  earthquake, — every  thing  seemed  as  if  it  was 
swimming  round  and  round,  and  I  couldn't  see  the  devil  or  any  one  else 
for  the  smoke — and,  with  a  terrible  start,  as  if  I  got  a  blow  on  the  head, 
I  awoke  out  of  my  sleep ;  and  there  was  Shanus,  the  cook,  shaking  me 
as  if  he  thought  I  was  in  a  trance. 

"  Get  up,  Father  Tom,"  says  he,  "  if  you're  alive ;  you're  asleep 
since  last  sight,  and  that's  nearly  two  days  ago.  The  Bible-men  are  all 
gone  off  to  Limerick,  and  there's  not  a  soul  in  the  place  but's  breaking 
all  the  windows  of  the  Orange  justices  of  the  peace." 

"  Fie  upon  you,  Shanus !"  says  I ;  "  and  is  that  the  way  you  come  to 
spoil  my  beautiful  dream  ?" 

Isn't  my  dream  out  now,  boys  ? — and  is  it  any  wonder,  after  the 
warning  I  had  from  St.  Peter,  that  I  didn't  think  of  going  to  the  meeting  ? 
Sorrow  a  Bible-man  you'll  ever  see  in  the  spot  again,  mark  my  words  j 
and  that's  better  than  all  tl\e  palaver  of  speeches  you'll  hear  from  this 
day  forward  till  the  hour  of  your  deaths.  Amen. 
M.M.  New  Series.—VoL.  X.  No.  58.  3  I 


[    434    ]  [OCT. 

THE  NETHERLANDS.* 

WE  are  no  great  admirers  of  the  abridgments  which  have  lately 
become  so  common,  and  which,  in  nine  instances  out  of  ten,  are  but 
contrivances  for  preserving  the  husks  of  literature,  while  they  reject 
all  its  substance  and  soundness.  But  there  are  topics  which  fairly  allow 
of  being  thrown  into  this  shape ;  and  histories  of  Holland  and  Belgium 
are  among  the  fittest  for  the  operation.  The  historians  of  the  Nether- 
lands have  hitherto  made  their  subject  unpopular,  and,  in  consequence, 
useless,  by  their  enormity  of  amplification.  The  exploits  of  every 
burgher,  the  finance  of  every  village,  and  the  quarrels,  compacts, 
riots,  and  regulations  of  every  town,  have  found  a  historian  to  send 
them  down — not  to  fame,  but  to  oblivion — not  to  give  their  example 
for  the  benefit  of  mankind,  but  to  teach  all  mankind  the  peril  of 
touching  a  Belgian  volume,  and  the  misery  of  being  buried,  alive  or 
dead,  by  the  ponderous  sepulture  of  a  Flemish  historian. 

Mr.  Grattan's  work,  allowing  for  a  few  obvious  faults  in  arrangement, 
and  a  little  too  sudden  an  admiration  of  the  powers  that  be — a  fault, 
considerably  the  reverse  of  what  we  had  expected  from  his  previous 
style  of  opinions— is  a  very  clever  condensation,  written  with  good 
sense,  knowledge,  and  spirit,  and  will  answer  all  the  purposes  of  the 
general  reader,  who  wishes  to  know  as  much  about  the  Netherlands  as 
is  worth  knowing. 

But  as  we  are  Utilitarians  in  those  matters,  and  value  a  book  only  for 
its  use  to  the  present  time,  we  shall  leave  the  early  stories  of  this 
amphibious  people  to  the  curious  in  icthyology.  Let  who  will  tell  for 
us  at  what  time  a  Dutchman  ceased  to  be  a  fish,  and  emerged  from  the 
ooze  of  the  Zuydersee  to  the  ooze  of  Brabant ;  when  he  deposited  his 
fins  and  took  to  his  feet ;  and  when,  rising  from  his  secondary  state  of 
merman-ism,  and  feeding  upon  sea- weed  and  bulrushes,  he  perpendicu- 
larized  himself  into  man,  lived  upon  his  kindred  herrings,  and  invented 
sour  krout.  We  leave  his  Brabant  exploits  to  the  novelists,  in  the  full 
assurance  that  Mrs.  Bray  and  the  Count  de  Barante  will  deliver  them 
down  with  due  honour  to  the  generations  to  come.  Our  purpose  is  to 
tell  in  what  condition  the  Netherlands  now  are,  by  whom  brought  into 
that  condition,  and  how  England  may  be  the  better  or  the  worse  for  them. 

For  all  the  purposes  of  stirring  the  world,  there  are  two  nations,  and 
but  two — England  and  France :  England,  for  the  outlying  kingdoms, 
for  the  islands,  the  colonies,  the  whole  loose  and  diversified  circle  of 
power  touched  by  the  ocean  ;  France,  for  the  Continent.  Every  change 
that  has  been  wrought  in  the  frame  of  Europe  for  the  last  five  centuries 
has,  in  some  way,  direct  or  indirect,  been  the  work  of  France ;  and 
what  has  been,  is  as  likely  to  be  in  the  present  hour  of  agitation,  as  in 
any  hour  since  a  Henry  the  Fourth,  or  a  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  sat  upon 
the  throne  of  that  ambitious,  volatile,  and  mighty  nation. 

The  philosophers  of  France,  such  as  they  were — a  herd  of  impudent 
pretenders  to  all  knowledge,  and,  among  the  rest,  to  the  knowledge  of 
governing — had  made  a  convert  of  Joseph  the  Second  ,*  a  cold  enthu- 
siast, frigid  in  theory,  violent  in  practice,  proclaiming  his  love  for  free 
choice  in  every  man,  and  exhibiting  his  love  by  fresh  impositions,  sullen 

*  The  History  of  the  Netherlands,  by  Thomas  Colley  Grattan.    (Cabinet  Cyclopedia.) 


1830.]  The  Netherlands.  435 

ordinances,  and  the  Imperial  arguments  of  horse,  foot,  and  dragoons. 
The  French  doctrines  pleased  him,  and  he  published  them  to  his 
subjects ;  but  their  application  by  his  subjects  had  not  entered  into  his 
plans,  and  he  put  the  practical  reformers  under  arrest,  sent  furious 
governors  among  them,  and  assisted  the  popular  understanding  by  the 
bayonet. 

His  first  operations  on  the  Belgians  were  specious  enough.  He 
proclaimed — Toleration  to  the  Protestants,  clerical  freedom  from  the 
papacy,  and  a  total  change  in  the  style  of  theological  instruction. 

Nothing  could  be  better,  under  other  circumstances.  But  the 
Belgians  refused  to  receive  instruction  with  this  wholesale  rapidity. 
The  Emperor  felt  himself  insulted,  and  issued  angry  proclamations ; 
the  people  retorted  them  still  more  angrily.  Joseph  carried  on  the 
controversy  in  the  Imperial  manner,  by  ordering  the  disputants  to  be 
shot — the  people  adopted  the  argument,  and  fired  on  the  Imperialists. 
Reform  was  now  in  the  field  against  Bigotry,  both  equally  rash,  ground- 
less, and  extravagant.  Proclamations,  and  villages  on  fire,  flying 
governors  and  civil  massacre,  succeeded  each  other  with  natural  rapidity ; 
and  Joseph  at  length,  wearied  of  being  beaten  in  reform  by  the  Belgians, 
in  war  by  the  Turks,  in  policy  by  the  Russians,  and  in  common  sense 
by  all  mankind,  died ;  leaving  his  brother  Leopold  to  reverse  all  his 
plans,  and  his  nephew,  Francis  the  Second,  to  lose  all  his  provinces. 

France  had  in  the  mean  time  been  busy  with  Holland.  The  Dutch 
were  fantastic  enough  to  believe  their  French  instructors,  when  they 
told  them  that  the  liberty  of  the  seas  depended  on  the  Dutch  fleet ! 
They  threw  themselves  into  the  lion's  jaws,  and  had  the  natural  fate  of 
such  enterprises ;  England  tore  away  their  colonies,  hunted  their 
fleet  into  its  harbours,  or  destroyed  them  in  sight  of  its  shore ;  stripped 
Holland  of  her  commerce,  and  left  her  on  the  eve  of  bankruptcy  to 
meditate  on  the  wisdom  of  French  philosophers.  The  peace  of  1784 
finished  the  naval  struggles  of  the  States. 

France  was  now  to  act  for  herself.  Philosophy  had  laid  the  train 
for  blowing  up  the  whole  ancient  fabric  of  royalty  in  all  lands,  and 
her  armies  rushed  out  to  finish  the  work  of  her  wits,  orators, 
and  political  economists.  The  first  explosion  blew  the  Belgian 
government  into  a  million  of  fragments.  Dumouriez,  the  true  repre- 
sentative of  all  republican  generals,  an  intriguer,  a  lover  of  blood, 
a  daring  soldier,  and  as  reckless  a  robber  as  ever  swept  the  treasury 
of  a  land  of  opulent  poltroons,  threw  himself  on  Belgium,  frater- 
nized with  every  body,  panegyrized  every  body,  and  robbed  every 
body.  Sixty  thousand  Frenchmen,  wild  as  tigers,  and  mad  for  plunder 
and  the  rights  of  man,  burst  upon  the  thirty  thousand  grave  Austrians 
who  stood  drawn  up  in  parade  order  upon  the  memorable  plain  of 
Gemappe.  The  Austrian  hero  was  made  by  the  strappado,  the  French 
hero  by  the  human  passions,  vanity,  lust,  robbery,  and  revenge.  The 
contest  was  over  at  once.  The  French  plunged  on  the  Austrians, 
square,  line,  and  column,  cast  them  into  flight  as  if  an  inundation 
had  burst  upon  them,  swept  them  from  the  field,  and  in  three  short 
hours  extinguished  the  glory  of  the  strappado,  the  cane,  the  picket, 
and  the  cat-o'-nine  tails.  The  old  components  of  heroism  were  no 
more. 

But  Dumouriez  was  too  much  a  republican  not  to  be  a  knave,  and 

3  I  2 


436  The  Netherlands.  [OCT. 

before  a  year  was  over,  he  had  lost  his  army,  his  conquests,  and  when 
on  the  point  of  deservedly  losing  his  head,  made  his  escape  to  the 
enemy.  The  French  again  poured  into  the  Netherlands  in  179.3,  again 
beat  the  Austrians,  were  beaten  by  the  English  under  the  Duke  of 
York,  again  poured  in  their  enormous  population,  hunted  the  allies 
from  river  to  river,  and  from  ditch  to  ditch,  till  they  cleared  the  land 
of  Englishman,  Austrian,  Russian,  and  German,  dukes,  counts,  and 
governors ;  and  then  sat  down  tranquilly  to  the  second  part  of  republican 
prowess, — universal  robbery. 

The  first  fraternal  demand  of  France  upon  her  new  relative  in  liberty, 
Holland,  was  one  hundred  millions  of  florins !  In  return,  she  gave  her 
a  new  constitution,  with  permission  to  hang  all  emigrants,  Orangists, 
and  pensioners  of  the  old  government.  Holland  had  three  constitutions 
in  as  many  years,  and  tried  the  successive  wisdom  of  a  States  General, 
a  National  Assembly,  and  a  Directory.  But,  to  qualify  these  varieties 
of  freedom,  she  saw  her  fleet  shattered  into  fragments  by  the  English 
at  Camperdown,  in  1 797*  and  her  territory  the  scene  of  a  succession  of 
ravage  and  battle  between  her  old  allies  and  her  new ;  Englishmen  and 
Frenchmen  slaughtering  each  other,  and  each  and  all  living  on  the 
Dutchman.  But  the  consummation  of  the  fraternal  system  was  reserved 
for  one  greater  than  all  the  Dumouriez.  Napoleon  sent  his  commands 
to  regenerated  Holland,  that  she  should  thenceforth  be  exalted  into  the 
nobler  name  of  France ;  that  she  should  be  bankrupt  for  three-fourths  of 
her  national  debt ;  that  the  Berlin  and  Milan  decrees  should  shut  up  her 
warehouses,  burn  her  merchandize,  and  consign  her  ships  to  rot  in  her 
harbours,  and  that  she  should  have  the  conscription,  and  contribute  one 
half  of  her  population  of  the  age  of  twenty,  every  year,  or  as  much 
oftener  as  might  be  expedient,  to  the  armies  of  France  ! 

But  the  Dutch  had  still  other  causes  to  remember  Napoleon.  That 
keen  inquirer  into  the  hearts  of  men  knew  that  the  people  bore  his 
arrangements  sulkily ;  and  to  prevent  disturbance,  he  adopted  the 
Turkish  contrivance  of  hostages.  The  sons  of  all  the  leading  families 
were  instantly  ordered  to  equip  themselves  as  dragoons,  and  follow  the 
emperor  to  the  field.  No  profession,  pursuit,  or  taste  was  suffered  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  the  sovereign  will.  The  doctor,  the  lawyer,  the 
clergyman,  the  manufacturer,  the  merchant,  found  themselves,  to  their 
astonishment,  galloping  side  by  side,  under  the  orders  of  a  French 
marshal,  riding  into  the  mouths  of  cannon,  and  squares  of  bayonets,  and 
charging  every  thing  from  the  Pyrenees  to  the  Pole. 

Napoleon's  finance  was  as  vigorous  as  his  tactics.  Every  foot  of 
Dutch  land  paid  twenty-five  per  cent,  of  the  actual  rent,  and  every 
house  thirty  per  cent,  to  the  Imperial  treasury.  All  things  else,  move- 
able  and  immoveable,  were  loaded  with  taxation.  Holland  was  beggared, 
starved/ in  rags,  but  glorious.  The  population  was  thinned  by  the  thou- 
sand ;  they  could  not  emigrate,  for  on  one  side  was  the  English  fleet, 
and  on  the  other  the  French  bayonet;  but  they  died.  The  Seven 
Provinces  were  one  vast  mass  of  pauperism,  where  the  only  place  of 
secure  food  was  a  prison  or  a  barrack.  All  was  disease,  discontent,  and 
"  looped  and  windowed  nakedness ;"  but  in  recompense,  they  learned 
French,  and  had  the  Code  Napoleon. 

Belgium  followed,  step  by  step,  with  the  United  States,  down  the 
slope  of  universal  beggary.  The  taxes  tore  away  the  coat  from  the 


1830.]  The  Netherlands.  437 

limbs,  the  conscription  tore  away  the  limbs  themselves.  The  nobles 
lived  on  French  pay,  the  people  on  the  air.  But  Napoleon  fell  at  last.  He 
had  done  his  work,  and  scourged  the  profligacy  of  the  continent.  The 
scourge  was  now  to  be  thrown  away.  He  was  undone  at  Moscow;  the  rest 
of  his  career  was  only  the  struggle  of  the  wild  beast  against  his  hunters, 
while  a  hundred  arrows  are  drinking  his  life's  blood.  He  had  received 
his  mortal  wound  in  the  Russian  snows.  He  was  now  driven  to  his 
lair,  and  dragged  from  it  in  chains  for  the  sport  of  mankind. 

In  1813  the  French  troops  took  their  leave  of  Holland.  The  Dutch 
recalled  their  Stadtholder.  But  the  fashion  of  the  times  had  changed. 
Republics  were  on  the  wane,  royalty  was  in  the  ascendant.  Kings 
were  becoming  popular  once  more ;  such  are  the  miracles  of  time,  or 
the  caprices  of  fortune.  On  the  1st  of  December,  1813,  the  prince 
announced  himself  as  having  come  to  settle  all  disputes  on  the  subject 
of  government. 

"  The  uncertainty  which  formerly  existed  as  to  the  executive  power, 
shall  no  longer  paralyze  your  efforts.  It  is  not  William  the  Sixth 
Stadtholder,  whom  the  nation  recals,  without  knowing  what  to  hope 
or  expect  from  him.  It  is  William  the  First,  who  offers  himself  as 
sovereign  prince  of  this  free  country/' 

The  Netherlands  were  cleared  of  the  French  armies  at  the  same  time. 
The  Treaty  of  Paris  (30th  of  May,  1814)  disposed  of  their  govern- 
ment. By  the  sixth  article  it  was  declared  that  "  Holland,  placed 
under  the  sovereignty  of  the  House  of  Orange,  should  receive  an 
increase  of  territory."  The  Treaty  of  London,  in  the  month  after, 
settled  the  forms.  "  Holland  and  the  Netherlands  shall  be  one  United 
State.  The  Allies  and  the  Sovereign  covenant  that — The  Union  shall 
be  complete,  governed  in  conformity  with  the  fundamental  laws  of 
Holland.  That  religious  liberty,  and  the  equal  right  of  all  citizens  to 
fill  the  employments  of  the  State  shall  be  maintained.  That  the  Belgian 
provinces  shall  be  fairly  represented  in  the  States  General,  and  the  Sessions 
of  the  States  held,  in  time  of  peace,  alternately  in  Belgium  and  Holland. 
That  the  commercial  privileges  shall  be  common  to  the  citizens  at  large. 
That  the  Dutch  colonies  shall  be  considered  as  equally  belonging  to 
Belgium.  And  finally,  that  the  public  debt  of  both  countries,  shall  be 
borne  in  common." 

The  Prince  of  Orange,  under  the  title  of  Governor- General  of  the 
Netherlands,  arrived  at  Brussels  in  August  1814;  and,  in  February 
1815,  a  commission  of  twenty-seven  members  was  formed  to  give  effect 
to  the  union.  The  commission  resulted,  as  was  intended,  in  declaring 
that  a  king  was  necessary  for  the  Netherlands,  and  that  William  the 
First  was  to  be  that  king.  Sources  of  disunion,  not  to  be  dried  up  by 
royal  commissions,  continued  to  shed  the  waters  of  bitterness  on  the 
two  countries.  Holland,  Protestant,  of  small  territory,  and  strictly 
commercial,  was  alarmed  by  the  immediate  connection  with  a  country 
rigidly  Roman  Catholic,  of  preponderant  territory,  and  wholly  agricul- 
tural and  manufacturing. 

Belgium  was  still  more  startled.  The  higher  classes,  attached  to 
Austria,  as  a  popish  state,  as  the  distributor  of  honours  and  emoluments, 
and  as  favouring  the  exclusive  possession  of  place  by  the  well-born,  felt 
all  their  aristocratic  interests  in  danger.  The  manufacturers  saw  ruin 
in  their  exclusion  from  the  marts  of  France.  The  populace  liked  the 


438  The  Netherlands.  [OCT. 

French  gaiety,  the  French  brandies,  the  French  pay  spent  among  them, 
and  the  sound  of  the  French  glory,  when  the  conscription  was  over.  The 
whole  nation,  more  rationally,  trembled  at  the  Dutch  debt.  Popular 
discontents  arose,  which  would  have  speedily  baffled  the  wisdom  of 
King  William,  and  the  skill  of  the  British  ambassador,  Lord  Clancarty, 
the  best  of  sheep-feeders  and  of  men,  but  the  heaviest  of  all  diploma- 
tists, living  or  dead :  but  the  lowering  of  the  atmosphere  was  cleared 
by  a  storm.  Napoleon  came  in  thunder  over  the  land.  War  suffers  no 
intermixture  of  petty  politicians  or  petty  grievances.  Its  eloquence  is 
the  cannon ;  and  men  can  think  but  little  of  prospective  wrongs  when  they 
may  be  shot  within  the  hour.  Grape  and  ball,  the  cuirassier  and  the 
lancer,  cured  the  Belgians  of  their  political  fever;  and  the  day  of 
Waterloo  was  the  first  true  date  of  the  union.  No  time  was  now  to  be 
given  for  the  new  generation  of  grievances.  A  commission  settled  all 
questions  within  one  month — the  shortest  period,  perhaps,  in  which  a 
government  commission,  whose  salary  depended  on  the  length  of  its 
labours,  ever  settled  anything.  But  the  military  example  had  not  been 
lost  even  upon  Dutch  gravity  and  Belgian  pride.  The  constitution  was 
settled  at  the  pas  dc  charge.  On  the  21st  of  September,  the  king  was 
inaugurated  at  Brussels  in  the  presence  of  the  States-General ;  and  the 
Netherlands,  from  north  to  south,  were  in  one  roar  of  exultation. 

Time  has  thrown  up  its  usual  harvest  of  thistles  again.  The  Bel- 
gians complain  that  they  cannot  learn  Dutch ;  and  the  Dutch  call  the 
Flemish  a  jargon  unworthy  of  their  own  polished  commonwealth.  The 
Belgians  long  for  glory,  ribbons  of  the  Legion  of  Honour,  and  pensions 
from  any  court  under  heaven.  The  Dutch  call  them  idlers  and  aristo- 
crats. The  Belgians  call  the  Dutch  shopkeepers  curers  of  herrings, 
and  dwellers  in  a  soil  which  is  neither  earth,  water,  nor  mud.  To  prove 
themselves  in  earnest,  they  have  burst  out  into  insurrection;  turned 
out  chief  justices,  tenacious  of  place  under  half  a  century  of  governments, 
and  whom  nothing  but  a  general  insurrection  could  have  induced  to 
loose  their  hold ;  burned  police-boxes ;  and  arrayed  themselves  as 
liberators  of  their  country.  The  Dutch  have  put  on  their  uniforms,  taken 
up  their  muskets,  and  petitioned  only  for  leave  to  march,  and  make  a 
national  impression  on  the  Belgic  understanding.  But  the  disturbance  was 
trifling  and  local,  and  seems  to  have  sunk  down.  The  Brussels  patriots 
are  already  tired  of  carrying  muskets,  and  keeping  guard  in  the  dews 
of  autumn  and  the  fogs  of  Brabant.  The  first  frost  will  send  them  by 
whole  battalions  to  their  homes  ;  and  their  patriotism  will  be,  like  their 
provisions,  hung  up  in  the  sight  of  their  stoves,  to  keep  till  spring. 

Their  whole  insurrection  was  gratuitous,  and  therefore  contemptible 
— a  paltry  imitation  of  the  French  one,  which  was  necessary,  justifiable, 
and  therefore  triumphant.  The  conduct  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  is  the 
only  thing  which  can  now  keep  this  impudent  piece  of  coxcombry 
alive.  When  the  deputies  from  Brussels  dared  to  come  into  his  pre- 
sence with  their  rabble  cockade,  he  ought  to  have  ordered  them  to  be 
treated  as  rebels — and  very  impudent  rebels  they  were !  The  cockade 
was  the  badge  of  insurrection ;  and  his  answer  should  have  been  an 
arrest.  But  blood  at  least  has  been  spared;  and  it  depends  on  the 
wholesome  activity  of  the  king  to  shew  whether  he  is  placed  at  the 
head  of  Belgium  to  have  his  beard  plucked  by  every  mob-leader,  or  is 
worthy  to  sit  upon  the  throne. 


1830.]  The  Netherlands.  439 

The  news  from  Brussels  within  the  last  few  days  has  been  alarming. 
The  city  has  been  declared  in  a  state  of  siege,  and  the  populace  seem  to 
be  completely  its  masters.  "  Civic"  troops  are  roving  the  country,  and 
fighting  the  Dutch.  Every  one  must  dread  these  horrors  ;  the  Belgians 
are  in  the  wrong ;  but  such  is  the  result  of  the  crime  of  Charles  the 
Tenth,  and  the  triumph  which  in  his  folly  he  forced  upon  the  people. 

The  Polignac  ministry  are  formally  impeached  by  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies,;  they  can  scarcely  escape  being  found  guilty ;  but  we  must 
hope  that  they  will  not  suffer  further.  The  Revolution  is  complete,  so  far 
as  Bourbons  are  concerned.  Its  merit  is,  to  have  been  guided  by  a 
spirit  of  moderation ;  and  the  stain  of  blood,  after  this  victory,  would 
be  an  infinite  degradation  to  the  name  and  cause  of  Freedom. 


BALLAD    A    LA    BAYLY. 

I  HAVE  nor  laughed  nor  smiled  for  years, 

Since  first  I  learnt  to  know, 
That  smiles  are  channels  for  our  tears, 

That  very  watery  woe — 
That  odd  compound  of  sodas,  salts, 

Which  forms  the  home-made  rain, 
With  which  we  mourn  our  friends  or  faults, 

Our  penury  or  pain. 

Age  steals  on  all— dolts,  dustmen,  dukes, 

Rakes,  men  who  say  their  prayers, 
And  men  who  keep  their  youthful  looks 

The  longest— even  on  players ! 
Grimaldi's  star  too  soon  has  set ; — 

That  satellite,  his  son, 
May  round  his  orbit  pirouette, 

But  not  reflect  his  fun. 

Dick  Jones,  as  frisky  as  a  fly, 

Mercutio  of  the  day, 
(Time  writes  his  truths  too  legibly  !) 

May  yet  grow  grave  and  grey. 
Poor  Liston's  a  wet-Baptist  grown, 

Some  say  he  has  been  dipped ; 
Joe  Munderi's  laugh  is  now  a  groan, 

And  even  Harley's  hypped* 

Yes — five-and-twenty  years  will  make 

A  change  in  mortal  things : 
I've  seen  it  some  strange  freedoms  take 

With  very  decent  kings. 
A  quarter-century,  when  o'er, 

Appears  by  no  means  recent ; 
It  made  a  saint  of  naughty  Moore, 

And  Broad-Grin  Colman  decent. 


440  Ballad  d  la  Bayly.  [OcT. 

Ye  nine-and-twenty  years !  I  could 

Apostrophize  your  flight 
In  strains  would  make  great  Matthew  Wood 

Put  out  his  little  light. 
But  ye  are  gone — and  where's  the  use 

Of  metrical  regret  ? 
Or  tears,  to  render  my  dry  muse 

Uncomfortably  wet? 

The  pump  which  now  at  Aldgate  stands 

Had  the  same  handle  then  ; 
"Pis  handled  now  by  other  hands, 

Another  race  of  men  ! 
Phil.  Potts  was  then  a  serving-lad, 

A  big-boy  sort  of  man ; — 
«  The  boy  is  father  to  the  dad"— 

He's  now  a  publican  ! 

Jack  Skrimshaw  kept  his  horse  and  chaise 

And  rolled  in  port  and  pelf: 
Now  Jack,  in  these  degenerate  days, 

Can  barely  keep  himself ! 
Wilks,  Wilkins,  Wilkinson,  and  Wicks, 

Brown,  Buggins,  Biggs,  and  Bate, 
Hogg,  Huggins,  Higgins,  Higgs,  and  Hicks, 

Are  all  in  the  same  state ! 

There's  Thrift,  who  lent  his  thousands  out, 

And  dined  on  two  polonies, 
Now  phaetonizes  town  about 

With  two  black-spotted  ponies  ; 
And  Grasp,  who  ground  the  poor  to  dust, 

Hard-hearted  as  a  target, 
Has  left  Bread- Ward  his  marble  bust, 

And  feeds  the  world  at  Margate  ! 

The  Dobbses,  who  then  cut  a  dash, 

And  led  the  ton  of  Aldgate, 
Grew  out  of  vogue  when  out  of  cash, 

And  sank  to  Norton-Falgate ; 
The  Hobbses,  once  in  Dobbs's  case, 

Proud  when  a  Dobbs  would  lighten    ' 
The  darkness  of  their  dwelling-place, 

Now  cut  them  dead  at  Brighton. 

Thus  runs  the  world,  thus  ran  the  world, 

And  thus  it  still  shall  run, 
Till  into  atoms  it  is  hurled, 

And  quenched  are  moon  and  sun  ! 
Who  shall  recount  the  ups  and  downs, 

The  laughter  and  the  tears, 
The  kicks  and  cuffs,  the  smiles  and  frowns, 

Of  five-and-twenty  years !  C.  W. 


1830.]  [    441    ] 

FRANCE    AND    MILADT    MORGAN. 

WE  are  very  much  tired  of  Lady  Morgan ;  and,  ungallant  as  Miladi 
must  conceive  the  confession,  the  announcement  of  a  volume  from  her 
pen,  on  politics,  metaphysics,  theology,  the  art  of  war,  and  the  art  of 
love,  on  all  of  which  she  writes  en  masse,  and  with  equal  skill,  alarms  us 
in  the  most  serious  degree.  But  we  are  fortunately  not  compelled,  in 
the  present  instance,  to  the  heavy  task  of  looking  for  her  ideas ;  as  a 
correspondent  in  Paris  has  furnished  us  with  those  of  the  respectable 
portion  of  the  literary  class  in  that  capital ;  with  whom,  we  are  sorry  to 
say,  her  republican  ladyship  did  not  mingle  much ;  and  we  can  do 
nothing  more  acceptable  to  ourselves  than  to  leave  her  in  his  hands. 

"  TO    THE    EDITOR. 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  Paris,  September,  1830. 

<l  If  you  have  ever  been  in  Paris,  you  must  know  that,  in  this  most 
charming  of  all  capitals,  a  wet  day  is  not — death,  but  a  much  worse  thing, 
blue  devils  to  the  last  degree.  But,  as  I  have  nothing  to  do  till  dinner 
but  look  out  of  the  window  and  count  the  cabriolets,  I  shall  give  you 
some  notes  on  the  "  France,  by  Lady  Morgan,"  which  I  have  been  turn- 
ing over  in  my  night-gown. 

tc  In  the  first  place  I  can  assure  you,  French  as  I  am,  I  have  feeling 
enough  for  England  to  regret  that  she  should  not  have  some  law,  or 
contrivance,  for  her  own  sake,  to  prevent  such  personages  as  this  Miladi 
Morgan  from  making  the  name  of  your  great  country  ridiculous 
wherever  she  goes.  The  French  have  an  unlucky  habit  of  thinking 
that  every  thing  said  in  print  in  England  has  some  sort  of  public 
sanction.  I  have  done  my  best  to  inform  my  friends  here  that  Miladi 
has  no  sort  of  sanction  from  the  respectable  and  intelligent  portion  of 
your  people ;  that  she  is  laughed  at,  and  utterly  rejected  by  every  thing 
distinguished  among  your  men  of  literature ;  and  that  your  ladies  of 
condition  shrink  from  her  as  a  frivolous,  silly,  and  extremely  presuming 
little  personage.  But  her  own  nonsense  settled  the  question  for  her, 
when  she  was  here  lately.  She  was  the  very  model  of  f  common-place 
mediocrity,  and  pushing  pretension'  Her  own  works,  her  own  wonders, 
her  own  celebrity,  her  own  persecutions,  were  her  boast,  ridiculous  as  the 
very  idea  of  such  a  boast  must  be.  Her  own  manners,  looks,  and  graces, 
Heaven  protect  us !  were  her  only  topics,  and  they  were  fled  from  in 
all  directions. 

"  We  set  her  down  as  the  most  ridiculous  exhibition  of  pert  vanity 
and  frisky  decrepitude  that  was  to  be  found,  even  in  Paris,  where  the 
combination  is  more  frequent  than  in  any  other  part  of  the  known  world. 
But  her  society,  her  preux  chevaliers,  her  men  of  genius,  her  organs  of 
public  opinion,  are  all  the  most  contemptible  affectation.  You  must  know 
that  we  have  in  Paris  a  race  of  minor  litterateurs  with  nothing  on  earth 
to  do  but  to  ramble  from  coffee-house  to  coffee-house,  and  from  coterie  to 
coterie.  If  their  names  have  reached  England,  I  am  satisfied  none  of 
their  works  have ;  for,  even  here,  they  die  within  the  week :  one  of 
them  pilfers  some  little  story,  or  writes  a  copy  of  newspaper  rhymes,  or 
translates  some  farce  from  the  German,  or  recites  some  plundered  essay 
at  some  of  our  obscure  lecture-rooms,  and,  from  that  time  forth,  he  looks 
upon  himself  as  making  a  part  of  the  literary  glory  of  the  land, 

"  Those  fellows  swarm  among  us,  and  they  are  the  perfect  nuisance 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  58.  3  K 


442  France  and  Miladi  Morgan. 

of  all  society  here,  though  they  no  sooner  puff  or  push  themselves  into  good 
company  than  they  are  ejected  from  it,  and  are  seen  there  no  more :  in 
short,  they  are  a  sort  of  he-Miladi  Morgans,  low,  silly,  and  self-sufficient, 
giving  their  opinions  of  their  own  fame,  their  own  talents,  and,  what  is 
at  once  most  burlesque  and  disgusting,  their  influence  on  the  morals  and 
public  feelings  of  the  age.  Some  of  them,  too,  who  have  gone  under  the 
hands  of  the  law  for  works  too  scandalous  even  for  the  liberal  ideas  of 
France,  make  a  merit  of  their  punishment,  and  talk  of  their  'perse- 
cutions.' They  are  patriots  and  martyrs  for  life. 

"  Of  such  miserable  creatures  Paris,  in  its  lower  circles,  is  full ;  for 
this  is  the  '  march-of-mind  age'  among  us  too.  Any  stranger,  who  will 
give  them  a  cup  of  coffee,  will  have  them  all  crowding  in,  and  if  he 
keeps  a  '  visiting  book/  (Miladi's  eternal  boast,  in  the  quintessence  of 
vulgarity),  it  will  never  want  names  enough,  three-fourths  of  which  are, 
undeniably,  those  of  the  most  contemptible  race  that  ever  made  literature 
contemptible. 

"  But,  as  to  Lafayette,  lernaux,  Rothschild,  and  persons  of  that  class, 
the  charm  that  makes  its  way  with  them  is  puffery.  The  man,  woman, 
or  child,  who  promises  to  make  a  book,  and  give  them  a  niche  in  it,  is 
sure  of  a  reception.  Lafayette's  whole  career  has  been  this  miserable 
craving  for  popularity.  To  be  talked  of  by  any  body,  any  where,  and 
at  any  price,  is  the  only  principle  that  this  old  man  ever  honoured  in 
the  keeping,  and  he  knows  it  to  be  the  sole  secret  of  his  power.  Miladi 
Morgan  writes  books,  puffs  herself  as  an  organ  of  European  opinion ; 
puffs  every  body  who  lends  her  his  arm  up  a  staircase,  or  hands  her  a  cup 
of  coffee,  or  endures  for  five  minutes  her  abominable  French,  her  counte- 
nance, and  her  other  infirmities ;  and  Lafayette  suffers  her  to  push  her 
vulgar  way  among  the  mob  who  flatter  the  old  Jacobin.  The  others  are 
tradesmen,  who  look  to  those  receptions  as  part  of  their  trade. 

"  The  dames  who  figure  in  her  visiting  book,  or  in  her  pages,  are  in 
general  ladies  perfectly  unknown  to  society  in  Paris;  some  of  them 
totally  obscure,  and  some  better  left  in  obscurity  than  brought  into 
the  light  after  the  long  oblivion  fittest  for  their  characters.  Any 
Miladi  hiring  a  hackney  coach,  and  running  about  the  hotels  in  the 
Fauxbourg,  dropping  tickets  at  every  fourth  and  fifth  story,  may  have 
a  "  visiting  book"  full  of  prodigiously  fine  titles,  to  which  the  Miladies 
in  question  have  as  much  right  as  their  husbands,  when  they  had  any, 
might  possess  to  their  children. 

"  The  fact  is  that  Paris  consists  of  circles  of  all  kinds,  and  that  any 
little,  bustling,  frisky  pretender  to  literature,  fashion  or  philosophy, 
can  have,  at  an  hour's  notice,  a  crowd  of  the  ragged  elite  of  the  male 
scribblers  of  this  country,  and  the  female  charmers  of  the  last ;  the 
poor  retainers  of  the  lowest  of  the  muses,  the  chansonniers,  the  re- 
freshers of  old  dramas,  and  the  patchers  of  new,  are  ready  for 
the  call,  and  to  meet  them  are  perfectly  ready  the  Mesdames,  the 
wrinkled  representatives  of  the  Fillettes,  Du  Chatelets,  Ninons,  and 
all  those  combiners  of  science  with  more  earthly  raptures,  who  love 
gossip  still.  So  much  for  the  select  society,  which  any  maker  of  books 
on  France  may  make  the  stock  of  her  scandalous  chronicle,  the  delight 
of  her  mornings,  and  the  boast  of  her  evenings,  if  she  will— but  you 
shall  have  a  '  morning*  of  Miladi ;  the  consummation  of  she-coxcombry 
and  egotism. 

"  '  /  happened  one  night  to  mention,  at  General  Lafayette's,  that  I 


1830.]  France  and  Miladi  Morgan.  443 

should  remain  at  home  on  the  following  morning  to  sit  for  a  medal  to 
J)avid  I  and  the  information  brought  in  a  numerous  class  of  morning 
visitors.  From  twelve  till  four  my  little  salon  was  a  congress,  com- 
posed of  the  representatives  of  every  vocation  of  arts,  letters,  science, 
bon-ton,  and  philosophy'  This  congress  of  all  the  genius  of  France, 
come  to  do  homage  to  Miladi !  she  tells  us  was  so  crowded,  that,  '  as 
in  the  opera  boxes  of  Italy/  the  comers  and  goers  pushed  on  each  other, 
the  first  being  absolutely  obliged  to  take  their  departure  before  their 
followers  in  this  levee  could  make  their  way  in ! 

"  But  what  are  the  names  of  this  brilliant  coterie  ?  M.  Pigault  le 
Brun  !  an  old  wretch  of  nearly  eighty,  author  of  a  long  file  of  the  most 
licentious  novels ;  M.  Mignet,  who  has  compiled  two  little  volumes  on 
that  original  subject,  the  Revolution ;  M.  Merrimee,  who  has  written 
some  feeble  attempts  at  plays,  which  have  never  been  played,  and  M. 
Beyle,  who  calls  himself  Count  de  Stendhal,  and  writes  epithalamiums 
and  epitaphs,  which  might  be  easily  changed  for  each  other,  and  all 
kinds  of  trumpery  and  foolery,  under  all  kinds  of  titles — and  those  are  the 
stars  of  Miladi  Morgan's  horizon.  To  every  one  of  them,  of  course, 
she  gives  a  panegyric  as  misplaced  and  cloying  as  she  expects  in  return. 
Pigault  is  all  wit  and  humour ;  Mignet — honest  and  fearless,  with  a 
style  which  is  at  once  mathematics,  epigrams  and  philosophy ! — a 
valuable  mixture.  Merrimee  is,  of  course,  '  simple,  natural,  animafed,' 
and  as  like  his  own  dramas  as  possible. 

"  Here  the  epithets  are  a  little  run  out,  and  Beyle  is  only — brilliant. 
But  I  am  tired  of  her  fulsome  stuff.  We  have,  however,  a  dash  of 

diplomacy,  a  Mr.  B of  the  American  embassy,  a  Portuguese  attache, 

an  attache  from  Chili,  &c.  &c.  But  you  lose  the  true  burlesque  of  this  me- 
lange, by  not  being  on  the  spot.  You  should  see  the  ragged  regiment  who 
fill  the  ranks  of  diplomacy  here,  to  judge  of  her  ladyship's  vogue.  And 
all  this  while,  to  consummate  the  feast  of  reason,  while  M.  David  was 
modelling  that  countenance,  which  is  to  go  down  to  posterity  as  the 
shrine  of  Miladi's  genius,  and  make  medals  valuable  ;  a  piano  was  kept 
tinkling  away  in  the  room,  where  the  '  music  of  Rossini  was  sung*  in 
snatches,  the  only  mode  indicative  of  feeling,  genius,  &c.,  '  by  one 
whose  young  fresh  tones,  and  sweet  expression,  Rossini  himself  had 
deigned  to  approve  !'  Bravo  !  What  an  Armida,  in  her  palace  of  plea- 
sure, what  a  combination  of  the  loves  and  graces,  to  be  gathered  alone 
round  the  celebrity  of  Miladi  Morgan  ! 

"  But  I  can  assure  you,  lightly  as  you  in  England  may  think  of 

our  ideas  on  matters  of  morals  or  religion,  we  are  by  no  means  better 
pleased  with  her  theories  on  those  points  than  her  taste  in  company. 
She  tells  us,  for  instance,  that  she  thinks  the  martyrs  of  Christianity 
afford  no  example  half  so  fine  as,  or,  in  her  own  words,  f  nothing  com- 
parable to,  the  self-immolation  of  Charlotte  Corday.' 

"  Now,  all  the  world,  but  this  antique  little  philosopher  on  assassina- 
tion, know  that  Charlotte  Corday  was  a  half-mad  poor  creature,  who 
drove  a  knife  into  Marat's  heart :  a  very  profitable  action  for  the  country, 
I  admit,  but  a  mere  affair  of  frenzy  and  blood  on  the  lady's  part. 
And  yet  this  melancholy  and  sanguinary  frenzy  is  to  put  her  above  the 
innocence,  and  holy  intrepidity  of  beings  who  died  for  the  highest 
interests  of  mankind.  She  also  calls  the  decent  observance  of  the  Sab- 
bath in  your  country,  ( pharisaical,  a  narrow  and  odious  view  of  the 
divine  attributes  ;'  and  further  declares  that  the  attempts  to  sustain  this 

3  K  2 


414  France  and  Miladi  Morgan.  [Ocr. 

observance,  are  actually  grounded  on  a  prevalent  disdain  of  the  people, 
and  a  total  want  o£  sympathy  with  humanity  !  Concluding,  by  her  pro- 
found opinion,  '  That  the  English  church  is  no  longer  confounded 
with  the  church  of  Christianity.'  6n  which  subjects  she  of  course  con- 
siders herself  a  very  competent  authority. 

"  The  fact,  with  respect  to  the  mode  of  passing  the  Sabbath  in 
France,  is,  that  from  its  ravenous  pursuit  of  every  low  indulgence,  the 
humbler  ranks  have  suffered  their  chief  corruption  ;  all  the  low  places 
of  refreshment,  the  drinking-houses,  the  dancing-booths,  the  gaming- 
houses where  one  may  stake  from  sous  to  Napoleons,  and  worse  haunts, 
if  possible,  than  the  gaming-houses,  are  in  full  glory  on  the  day  which 
you  in  England  give  to  attendance  in  church,  or  innocent  family  meet- 
ings at  home  when  the  church  service  is  done.  In  my  residence  in 
your  country,  I  saw  nothing  more  pharisaical  in  the  Sabbath  than  that 
your  men  generally  went  to  church,  which  here  they  scarcely  ever  do, 
and  that  after  it  they  walked  about  with  their  wives  and  children.  The 
shops,  'tis  true,  were  not  open ;  nor  the  theatres ;  which  I  conceived 
added  to  the  natural  enjoyment  of  the  day  of  rest,  by  relieving  the 
keepers  of  the  shops,  and  the  persons  who  belong  to  those  theatres, 
from  their  labour,  and  sending  them  out  to  enjoy  the  fresh  air,  the  use 
of  their  limbs,  and  the  meeting  with  their  friends. 

"  Without  pretending  to  be  wiser  or  better  than  the  rest  of  the  world, 
I  thought  I  saw  great  benevolence  in  the  original  designation  of  one  day 
in  the  week,  if  it  were  merely  a  day  for  the  labourer  to  say  that  he 
would  take  his  rest,  to  relieve  the  working  cattle,  and  to  refresh  the  gene- 
ral mind  by  a  relaxation  of  the  perpetual  anxieties  and  toils  of  their 
being.  I  say  nothing  of  its  importance  to  higher  feelings,  of  its  being  a 
lasting  monument  to  mankind  of  the  hand  of  the  Creator,  a  sacred 
interval  devoted  to  sacred  recollections,  and  a  period  to  bring  back  the 
thoughts  of  dignity  and  virtue  that  make  all  the  true  strength  and  value 
of  human  nature. 

"  In  France,  on  the  contrary,  in  its  peculiarly  crowded  theatres,  its 
giddy  foolery,  and  its  reckless  dissipation  on  the  Sunday,  I  saw  nothing 
indeed  pharisaical,  but  a  vast  deal  that  was  gross,  scandalous,  and  cor- 
rupting. I  think  that  I  could,  without  much  difficulty,  trace  to  it  three- 
fourths  of  that  ferocious  rage  for  gaming  among  the  men,  and  that 
wretched  disregard  of  character  among  the  women,  which  make  the 
melancholy  distinction  of  my  country. 

"  But  to  give  you  a  more  favourable  impression  of  our  taste  in 
authors  and  authorship,  than  I  am  inclined  to  think  you  have,  take  the 
opinion  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  names  of  French  literature,  who 
has  just  seen  her  book  on  my  table. 

tf '  Ah,'  said  he,  '  Miladi  Morgan  again — and  FRANCE,  too !  Pray  is 
not  this  a  bookselling  ruse  ?  for  she  has  written  about  nothing  outside  the 
barrier,  and  Paris  is  not  yet  France.  Why  does  she  not  scribble  non- 
sense on  her  own  country,  and  let  ours  alone?  I  have  seen  her  here, 
and  she  is  of  all  bores  the  bore  par  excellence.  She  is  sixty  years  old. 
What  can  be  the  use  of  her  staying  in  this  world  ? — she  has  long  since 
gone  through  the  whole  course  allotted  to  her  highest  hopes.  She  has 
toadied  and  gossipped,  till  her  toadyism  of  the  great,  and  her  gossip  of 
the  little,  were  as  well  known  and  as  wearisome  .here  as  her  London 
wig  and  rouge.  She  has  read  bad  novels  and  praised  them  in 
print  j  she  has  written  bad  novels,  and  puffed  them  in  all  kinds  of 


1830.]  France  and  Miladi  Morgan.  445 

ways ;  she  has  thrust  herself,  by  all  miserable  contrivances  into  society, 
till  she  has  sickened  it ;  she  has  travelled,  and  scribbled  her  '  travels/ 
Heaven  defend  us  ! — she  has  been  pilloried  in  criticism,  which  nothing 
but  her  own  virulence  could  have  provoked;  she  has  answered  the 
criticism  by  a  display  of  miserable  venom ;  she  has  attempted  to  laugh 
at  it,  and  in  laughing  betrayed  her  agony  in  every  fibre,  under  a  lash  as 
well  deserved  as  ever  was  inflicted  upon  dulness. 

"  '  She  has  set  up  for  an  Irish  politician,  and  for  a  patriot  all  round  the 
world ;  while  she  knows  no  more  of  politics,  than  that  an  Irish  rebel 
wears  a  green  ribbon,  nor  of  patriotism,  than  to  bore  the  world  with 
nonsense  on  the  virtue  of  Italian  quacks  and  French  harlequins.  What 
more  can  she  expect  in  this  life  ?  Or,  must  she  go  on  for  ever,  plunging 
deeper  and  deeper  in  the  mire  of  mediocrity,  making  her  ignorance 
more  palpable,  her  folly  more  tiresome,  and  her  effrontery  more  ridicu- 
lous. Bah. — Miladi  Morgan  !' 

"  I  ventured  to  interpose  a  word  in  favour  of  the  pauvre  Miladi.  '  There 
must  be  some  admission  for  involuntary  ignorance,  for  the  petty  conceit 
of  a  woman,  by  some  accident  or  other  led  to  believe  that  she  has  some 
kind  of  literary  influence/  But  he  would  hear  nothing. 

"  '  Look  there,'  said  he,  and  he  pointed  to  a  long  tirade  upon  Ninon 
de  1'Enclos.  '  If  your  moral  sense  is  not  enlightened  on  that  ancient 
profligate,  read  her  tender  tale  there.  The  fact  is,  that  this  silly 
person's  writings  on  France  offend  all  my  nationality.  Is  it  from  the 
wretched  club  of  coxcombs  that  such  a  woman  can  gather  round  her, 
that  an  idea  of  literary  France  is  to  be  given  to  foreigners  ?  But  even 
this  I  could  forgive  to  her  ignorance.  But  what  feeling  is  due  to 
this  trifler,  ranking  herself  among  the  '  celebrites,'  standing  on  tiptoe  to 
make  a  figure  among  mankind,  and  protesting  herself  the  natural  repre- 
sentative of  genius,  the  true  surviving  compound  of  De  Stael  and 
Voltaire  ?  Bah  !  Miladi  Morgan  !'  " 

"  He  flung  down  the  book  and  left  the  room." 


APHORISMS    ON    MAN,    BY    THE    LATE    WILLIAM    HAZLITT,    ESQ. 

I. 

Servility  is  a  sort  of  bastard  envy.  We  heap  our  whole  stock  of 
involuntary  adulation  on  a  single  prominent  figure,  to  have  an  excuse 
for  withdrawing  our  notice  from  all  other  claims  (perhaps  juster  and 
more  galling  ones),  and  in  the  hope  of  sharing  a  part  of  the  applause 
as  train-bearers. 

II. 

Admiration  is  catching  by  a  certain  sympathy.  The  vain  admire  the 
vain ;  the  morose  are  pleased  with  the  morose ;  nay,  the  selfish  and 
cunning  are  charmed  with  the  tricks  and  meanness  of  which  they  are 
witnesses,  and  may  be  in  turn  the  dupes. 

III. 

Vanity  is  no  proof  of  conceit.  A  vain  man  often  accepts  of  praise 
as  a  cheap  substitute  for  his  own  good  opinion.  He  may  think  more 
highly  of  another,  though  he  would  be  wounded  to  the  quick  if  his 
own  circle  thought  so.  He  knows  the  worthlessness  and  hollowness  of 
the  flattery  to  which  he  is  accustomed,  but  his  ear  is  tickled  with  the 


446  Aphorisms  on  Man.  f  OCT. 

sound ;  and  the  effeminate  in  this  way  can  no  more  live  without  the 
incense  of  applause,  than  the  effeminate  in  another  can  live  without 
perfumes  or  any  other  customary  indulgence  of  the  senses.  Such  people 
would  rather  have  the  applause  of  fools  than  the  approbation  of  the 
wise.  It  is  a  low  and  shallow  ambition. 

IV. 

It  was  said  of  some  one  who  had  contrived  to  make  himself  popular 
abroad  by  getting  into  hot  water,  but  who  proved  very  troublesome  and 
ungrateful  when  he  came  home — "  We  thought  him  a  very  persecuted 
man  in  India" — the  proper  answer  to  which  is,  that  there  are  some 
people  who  are  good  for  nothing  else  but  to  be  persecuted.  They  want 
some  check  to  keep  them  in  order. 

V. 

It  is  a  sort  of  gratuitous  error  in  high  life,  that  the  poor  are  natu- 
rally thieves  and  beggars,  just  as  the  latter  conceive  that  the  rich  are 
naturally  proud  and  hard-hearted.  Give  a  man  who  is  starving  a 
thousand  a-year,  and  he  will  be  no  longer  under  a  temptation  to  get 
himself  hanged  by  stealing  a  leg  of  mutton  for  his  dinner ;  he  may  still 
spend  it  in  gaming,  drinking,  and  the  other  vices  of  a  gentleman,  and 
not  in  charity,  about  which  he  before  made  such  an  outcry. 

VI. 

Do  not  confer  benefits  in  the  expectation  of  meeting  with  gratitude  ; 
and  do  not  cease  to  confer  them  because  you  find  those  whom  you  have 
served  ungrateful.  Do  what  you  think  fit  and  right  to  please  yourself; 
the  generosity  is  not  the  less  real,  because  it  does  not  meet  with  a  cor- 
respondent return.  A  man  should  study  to  get  through  the  world  as 
he  gets  through  St.  Giles's — with  as  little  annoyance  and  interruption  as 
possible  from  the  shabbiness  around  him. 

VII. 

Common-place  advisers  and  men  of  the  world,  are  always  pestering 
you  to  conform  to  their  maxims  and  modes,  just  like  the  barkers  in 
Monmouth-street,  who  stop  the  passengers  by  entreating  them  to  turn 
in  and  refit  at  their  second-hand  repositories. 

VIII. 

The  word  gentility  is  constantly  in  the  mouths  of  vulgar  people ;  as 
quacks  and  pretenders  are  always  talking  of  genius.  Those  who  possess 
any  real  excellence,  think  and  say  the  least  about  it. 

IX. 

Taste  is  often  envy  in  disguise :  it  turns  into  the  art  of  reducing 
excellence  within  the  smallest  possible  compass,  or  of  finding  out  the 
minimum  of  pleasure.  Some  people  admire  only  what  is  new  and  fashion- 
able— the  work  of  the  day,  of  some  popular  author — the  last  and 
frothiest  bubble  that  glitters  on  the  surface  of  fashion.  All  the  rest  is 
gone  by,  "  in  the  deep  bosom  of  the  ocean  buried ;"  to  allude  to  it  is 
Gothic,  to  insist  upon  it  odious.  We  have  only  to  wait  a  week  to 
be  relieved  of  the  hot-pressed  page,  of  the  vignette- title ;  and  in 
the  interim  can  look  with  sovereign  contempt  on  the  wide  range  of 
science,  learning,  art,  and  on  those  musty  old  writers  who  lived  before 
the  present  age  of  novels.  Peace  be  with  their  manes !  There  are 
others,  on  the  contrary,  to  whom  all  the  modern  publications  are 


1830.]  Aphorisms  on  Man. 

anathema,,  a  by-word — they  get  rid  of  this  idle  literature  "  at  one  fell 
swoop" — disqualify  the  present  race  from  all  pretensions  whatevr, 
get  into  a  corner  with  an  obscure  writer,  and  devour  the  cobwebs  and 
the  page  together,  and  pick  out  in  the  quaintest  production,  the  quaintest 
passages,  the  merest  choke-pear,  which  they  think  nobody  can  swallow 
but  themselves. 

X. 

The  source  of  the  love  of  nature  or  of  the  country  has  never  been 
explained  so  well  as  it  might.  The  truth  is  this.  Natural  or  inanimate 
objects  please  merely  as  objects  of  sense  or  contemplation,  and  we  ask 
no  return  of  the  passion  or  admiration  from  them,  so  that  we  cannot  be 
disappointed  or  distracted  in  our  choice.  If  we  are  delighted  with  a 
flower  or  a  tree,  we  are  pleased  with  it^r  its  own  sake  ;  nothing  more  is 
required  to  make  our  satisfaction  complete ;  we  do  not  ask  the  flower 
or  tree  whether  it  likes  us  again  ;  and,  therefore,  wherever  we  can 
meet  with  the  same  or  a  similar  object,  we  may  reckon  upon  a  recur- 
rence of  the  same  soothing  emotion.  Nature  is  the  only  mistress  that 
smiles  on  us  still  the  same  ;  and  does  not  repay  admiration  with  scorn, 
love  with  hatred.  She  is  faithful  to  us,  as  long  as  we  are  faithful  to 
ourselves.  Whereas,  in  regard  to  the  human  species,  we  have  not  so 
much  to  consider  our  own  dispositions  towards  others,  as  theirs  towards 
us ;  a  thousand  caprices,  interests,  and  opinions,  may  intervene  before 
the  good  understanding  can  be  mutual ;  we  not  only  cannot  infer  of 
one  individual  from  another,  but  the  same  individual  may  change  to-mor- 
row :  so  that  in  our  intercourse  with  the  world,  there  is  nothing  but 
littleness,  uncertainty,  suspicion,  and  mortification,  instead  of  the  gran- 
deur and  repose  of  nature. 

XL 

It  has  been  objected  to  the  soothing  power  of  Nature,  that  it  cannot 
take  away  the  sharp  pang  of  vehement  distress,  but  rather  barbs  the  dart, 
and  seems  to  smile  in  mockery  of  our  anguish.  But  the  same  might 
be  said  of  music,  poetry,  and  friendship,  which  only  tantalize  and 
torment  us  by  offering  to  divert  our  grief  in  its  keenest  paroxysms  ;  but 
yet  cannot  be  denied  to  be  enviable  resources  and  consolations  of  the 
human  mind,  when  the  bitterness  of  the  moment  has  passed  over. 


MARRIAGE    A    LA    MODE. 

SHE  loved  him— just  as  modern  ladies  love ; 

Admired  his  figure  on  a  rainy  day, 
And  suffered  him  to  reach  her  fallen  glove  : 

She  liked  him,  present ;  if  he  stayed  away 
She  did  not  miss  him.     "  Men  were  meant  to  rove," 

Was  still  her  theme  !     "  To  honour,  and  obey," 
She  had  no  thought  of;  but  she  looked  on  marriage 
As  something  requisite  to  keep  a  carriage  ! 

And  he  liked  her — as  much  as  creatures  can 
Who  live  at  balls,  and  vegetate  by  night ; 

Not  useless,  since  they  serve  to  hold  a  fan ; 

Whose  heads  are  heavy,  while  their  heels  are  light  ; 

Who,  wanting  other  titles,  are  called — Man  ! 
Yet  ladies  liked  him,  he  was  so  polite ; 

'Twas  strange  how  favour  from  mammas  he  won ; 

And  yet  not  strange ; — he  was  an  eldest  son. 


448  Marriage  a  la  Mode. 

He  met  her  first  at  some  prodigious  rout, 

Where  all  the  world  was  voting-  it  a  bore ; 
She  was  a  beauty,  having  just  come  out — 

That  is,  she  had  rehearsed  her  part  before, 
And  now  performed  it,  with  great  skill  no  doubt. 

She  knew  her  points,  and  that  the  dress  she  wore 
Set  off  her  figure  ;  thanks  to  prints  and  pins, 
Padding  conceals  a  multitude  of  sins  ! 

Ball  followed  ball ;  they  often  danced  together, 
And  though  they  said  but  little  to  each  other, 

Talking  of  novels,  music,  and  the  weather, 
And  such  ball-themes,  he  called  upon  her  mother — 

Who  heard  him  make  proposals  in  "  high  feather," 
And  introduced  him  to  her  son,  his  brother 

That  was  to  be — and  all  were  quite  elate ; 

For  he'd  a  title  and  a  good  estate  ! 

The  fair  betrothed  then  sought  thy  street,  Long  Acre, 
To  choose  the  shape  and  colour  of  her  carriage : 

I  know  not  why,  but  somehow  a  coachmaker 
Appears  to  me,  in  my  loose  view  of  marriage, 

A  kind  of  matrimonial  undertaker. 
By  this  I've  no  intention  to  disparage 

That  blessed  state,  which  many  a  damsel  enters 

Not  knowing  why — our  mothers  are  such  Mentors. 

The  day  was  fixed,  the  dejeune  was  spread, 

While  bride's-maids  simpered  in  their  Brussels  lace ; 

The  bride  shed  tears  at  first,  then  bowed  her  head, 
And  thought  how  great  a  change  would  soon  take  place 

(From  a  small  French  to  a  large  four-post  bed)  ; 
Though  none  might  read  her  thoughts  upon  her  face. 

Indeed  her  feelings  were  not  quite  intelligible  ; 

One  thing  she  felt — her  husband  was  quite  "  eligible !" 

The  marriage-service  soon  was  blundered  o'er; 

Congratulations  round  the  room  were  pealing ; 
The  travelling-chariot  waited  at  the  door — 

But  first  the  bride  must  do  a  "  bit  of  feeling ;" 
And  so  she  gently  sank  upon  the  floor, 

In  a  position  such  as  players  deal  in : 
A  graceful  attitude  for  loveliness, 
And  so  contrived,  as  not  to  spoil  her  dress  ! 

At  length  they  started,  he  and  his  fair  prize — 

A  Prize  ! — she  proved  a  Blank.     Sad,  stern  reality 

Makes  happiest  things  seem  hideous  :  they  grew  wise — 
He  cured  of  love,  and  she  of  her  morality. 

So,  throwing  off  the  troublesome  disguise, 
She  ran  away — like  other  folks  of  quality ; 

Leaving  her  lord  (she  left  him  not  a  jewel) 

A  drive  to  Doctors'-Commons — and  a  duel !  M.  L.  M. 


1830.]  [  449  ] 

NOTES  OF  THE  MONTH  ON  AFFAIRS  IN  GENERAL. 

IT  is  said  that  the  Neapolitan  Court,  moved  by  the  petitions  of  some 
scores  of  English  dilettanti,  lords  and  commoners,  have  serious  thoughts 
of  requesting  His  Highness  of  Algiers  to  remove  to  Leghorn,  or  go 
back  to  the  sunny  shores  of  the  Land  of  Lions.  Since  he  has  arrived, 
the  persons  of  those  noble  absentees  have  appeared  beggarly,  their 
dresses  contemptible,  and  their  moustachios  not  to  be  named  as  the 
product  of  the  human  visage.  The  splendid  Moor  gives  a  sequin  for 
every  paul  of  theirs,  which  is  in  the  exact  proportion  of  a  guinea 
Moorish  to  a  shilling  British ;  his  white  chintz  turban,  his  crimson  velvet' 
caftan,  his  green  silk  trowsers,  his  diamond-studded  dagger,  his  gold- 
hilted  scymetar,  his  rings,  bracelets,  pipe,  and  girdle,  each  of  them 
worth  half  the  rent-roll  of  our  best  finished  dandy  ;  and  above  all,  his 
beard,  sleek,  rich,  and  perfumed — a  grand  national  product,  of  which 
all  the  coaxing,  combing,  and  curling  of  all  the  valets  in  Naples  cannot 
produce  the  remotest  similitude — have  thrown  the  whole  race  of  those 
delicate  creatures  into  unutterable  despair.  The  moment  the  magni- 
ficent Moor  appears  abroad,  the  countesses  fly  after  him,  the  duchesses 
desert  the  foreign  ambassadors,  and  the  "  principessas"  will  not  waste 
a  smile  upon  an  English  lord,  even  with  three  months'  allowance  in 
M.  Falconet's  hands. 

To  pistol  or  sabre  the  infidel,  would  be  the  obvious  English  mode ; 
but  he  is  reckoned  one  of  the  best  shots  on  the  earth,  his  scymetar  could 
cut  through  a  turban,  and  the  experimentalist  would  run  a  fair  chance 
of  being  sliced  into  fragments  before  he  had  made  three  passes.  Poison 
would  be  the  natural  Neapolitan  mode,  as  the  stiletto  would  be  the 
Italian,  in  general.  But  he  is  so  surrounded  with  guards  as  to  be 
completely  inaccessible ;  and,  between  his  valets  and  his  double-barrelled 
and  gold-mounted  pistols,  the  thing  is  beyond  the  calibre  of  the  most 
desperate  dandy.  »  ;" •. 

In  the  mean  time  His  Highness  carries  on  the  African  administration 
within  his  Palazzo  in  very  superior  style. 

"  One  of  his  servants  had  been  guilty  of  some  act  of  disobedience, 
and  was  sentenced  to  death  for  it.  The  Neapolitan  porter  was  directed 
to  procure  a  cart  to  carry  away  a  corpse ;  he  asked  if  any  body  in  the 
house  was  dead,  and  received  for  answer  that  the  execution  would  take 
place  in  a  few  hours.  On  this  he  ran  to  fetch  a  Commissary  of  Police, 
who  gave  the  Dey  to  understand  that  he  was  not  to  take  justice  into  his 
own  hands  at  Naples,  but  must  leave  it  to  the  government.  When  the 
Dey  received  the  news  of  the  events  in  France,  he  exclaimed,  '  God  is 
great !  He  drove  me  from  my  throne — now  his  people  have  driven 
him  away.' " 

The  French  are  already  beginning  a  coinage  for  the  new  dynasty. 

"  The  French  money  is  to  bear  the  head  of  the  new  sovereign,  sur- 
rounded by  the  legend,  <  Louis  Philippe  I.  King  of  the  French.'  The 
reverse  will  present  a  crown  formed  of  a  branch  of  olive  and  laurel, 
in  the  interior,  of  which  the  date  of  the  year  and  the  value  of  the  piece 
will  be  inscribed." 

All  this  is  doubtless  perfectly  right,  as  nothing  can  sooner  efface  an 
old  king  from  the  bosoms  of  a  loving  people,  than  their  having  no 
remembrance  of  him  in  their  pockets.  There  was  palpable  impolicy, 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  58.  3  L 


450  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [OCT. 

as  well  as  vulgar  negligence  in  the  allowance  of  Napoleon's  "  image  and 
superscription  on  the  coin/'  by  the  late  king  and  his  brother.  The  law 
of  nature,  as  well  as  of  custom  is,  "  Render  unto  Caesar  the  things 
which  are  Caesars,"  and  if  we  take  his  coin,  we  owe  him  service,  at  least 
by  implication. 

But  we  have  now  matters  nearer  home  to  talk  of.  What  is  the  expense 
of  the  English  mint  ?  How  much  does  it  cost  the  country  in  its  officers? 
How  much  has  it  cost  in  buildings  and  machinery  ?  And,  above  all, 
why  should  it  cost  Jive  thousand  pounds  a  year  to  have  a  master  of  the 
mint  ?  The  gentleman  employed  at  this  handsome  salary  may  know  no 
more  about  making  a  coin  than  he  does  about  making  a  steam-engine. 
We  have  had  him  at  one  time  Lord  Wallace,  a  worthy  talker  on  trade ; 
after  him  Lord  Maryborough,  an  excellent  master  of  the  stag-hounds  ; 
and  after  him,  for  a  week  or  two,  Mr.  Tierney,  than  whom  no  man 
could  make  a  more  cutting  joke  ;  and  after  him  Mr.  Herries,  not  pecu- 
liarly renowned  for  any  thing ;  though  we  admit  that  if  making  a 
singularly  rapid  fortune  in  a  singularly  unknown  way,  entitle  this 
luckiest  of  clerks  to  the  superintendence  of  the  general  money-making 
of  the  country,  Mr.  Herries  is  peculiarly  entitled  to  the  charge.  But 
still,  we  ask,  why  is  the  sum  for  his  trouble,  or  his  no-trouble,  for  his 
little  knowledge,  or  his  total  ignorance,  to  be  Jive  thousand  pounds  a 
year?  We  wiU  undertake  to  say  that  his  whole  expenditure  of  time  and 
intellect  upon  the  matter,  would  be  amply  repaid  by  a  fifth  part  of  the 
sum,  and  that  there  would  be  five  hundred  candidates  for  the  place  at 
the  fifth  part  to-morrow,  and  every  one  of  the  five  hundred  to  the  full  as 
well  qualified  for  it  as  Mr.  Herries.  Or,  is  this  but  a  sinecure,  to  pay  a 
cabinet  minister  ?  Let  John  Bull  look  to  this,  and  let  him  roar  ! 

"  And  in  the  lowest  depths  a  lower  depth.'*  The  gradations  of 
etiquette  are  innumerable  and  delightful.  Theatres  have  them,  almost 
as  exquisitely  absurd  as  a  court  birth-day,  or  a  city-ball.  We  know  the 
contempt  with  which  a  heroine  of  tragedy  looks  down  upon  a  heroine 
of  comedy,  and  the  difficulty  with  which  the  comic  heroine  acknowledges 
the  existence  of  the  soubrette  ;  but  yet  we  had  thought  that  the  dignity 
of  a  clown  in  a  pantomime  could  not  be  easily  hurt.  We  were,  however, 
mistaken.  At  "  Bartlemy,"  the  other  day,  as  the  following  statement 
of  grievance  will  shew — 

"  One  Connor  issued  a  posting-bill,  advertising  a  ball  which  was  to 
take  place  during  the  fair,  and  he  announced  F.  Hartland,  of  Sadler's 
Wells'  Theatre,  and  formerly  clown  and  harlequin  of  Drury-lane  Theatre, 
as  the  master  of  the  ceremonies  at  the  tag-rag  and  bobtail  concern. 
Poor  Hartland  is  with  sufficient  reason  highly  incensed ;  he  says  that 
'  Bartlemy  fair  may  be  very  well  for  a  make  shift,  when  the  aspirant 
for  theatrical  honours  commences  his  career ;  but  it  is  rather  hard  for  a 
man,  who  has  passed  the  ordeal  of  a  London  audience,  to  find  his  name 
mixed  up  with  any  low  mummer  that  may  choose  to  use  it  for  his  own 
benefit.' " 

This  is  excellent.  The  clown  of  Drury-lane  despises  the  clown  of 
Bartlemy.  The  jumpers  and  tumblers  of  the  Winter- theatre  are  of  a 
different  species  from  those  of  the  Summer-booth  men.  Drury-lane  is 
a  different  element  from  Smithfield.  The  caperings  are  of  a  more  classic 
kind,  the  chalk  on  the  clown's  face  is  scraped  with  superior  elegance, 
and  the  tufts  on  his  cap  are  altogether  a  more  accomplished  exhibition. 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General.  451 

"  It  is  hard/'  as  Mr.  Hartland  observes,  that  "  after  a  man  has  passed 
the  ordeal  of  a  patent  theatre/'  he  should  be  liable  to  be  conceived  guilty 
of  the  degradation  of  shewing  his  head  or  heels  any  where  else ;  or 
that  after  having  once  enjoyed  the  dignity  of  being  beaten,  broiled, 
kicked,  and  thrust  into  a  cannon,  at  a  theatre  built  of  brick,  and  holding 
a  thousand  persons,  he  should  be  suspected  of  humbling  himself  to  an 
appearance  in  a  theatre  of  lath  and  linen,  and  holding  but  five  hundred. 
Distinctions  are  every  thing  in  this  world  ! 

The  Queen,  who  is  a  sensible  and  domestic  woman,  has  very  properly 
commenced  her  reforms  at  home,  and  set  the  fashions  for  housemaids 
through  the  empire. 

<e  Her  Majesty  had  the  housemaids  before  her  at  Windsor  Castle  the 
other  day,  and  said  to  them,  <  I  wish  you  to  understand  that  I  will  have 
no  silk  gowns  worn  here ;  and/  the  Queen  added,  f  you  must  wear 
aprons/  " 

There  is  both  good  sense  and  good  feeling  in  this,  for  without  being 
of  the  Leigh  Richmond,  or  the  Irving  school,  nor  hating  either  cheer- 
fulness or  cherry- coloured  ribbons  among  the  young  rustics,  the  true 
female  temptation  of  our  day  is  a  taste  for  finery.  Mischievous  as  it 
may  be  among  their  betters,  it  is  ruin  among  the  lower  ranks,  and 
beggary  is  infinitely  the  least  evil  of  this  propensity.  More  profligacy 
has  owed  its  parentage  to  the  love  for  silks  and  laces,  than  to  all  the 
other  sources  of  evil  put  together;  and  the  eagerness  for  expensive 
dress,  and  the  vanity  of  eclipsing  their  fellow-servants,  will,  in  nine  in- 
stances out  of  ten,  be  found  to  have  been  the  direct  cause  of  the  guilt 
and  misery  that  scandalize  the  public  eye  in  the  streets  of  London. 

The  papers  announce  MissPaton's  engagement  at  the  Haymarket,  where 
we  presume  she  will  appear  before  these  observations  reach  the  public, 
and  we  can  have  no  wish  to  disturb  her  reception.  But  it  is  only  due  to 
truth  to  say,  that  all  the  declamations  of  the  papers  on  (f  the  audience 
having  nothing  to  do"  with  the  characters  of  the  persons  who  come 
before  them,  must  go  for  nothing.  The  audience  have  a  vast  deal  to  do 
with  their  characters,  and  it  is  so  much  the  better  for  the  stage  that  they 
should ;  for  what  would  be  the  public  respect  for  a  profession  in  which 
personal  conduct  was  to  be  altogether  out  of  view — in  which  the  basest 
treachery,  the  vilest  dishonesty,  the  most  abject  infamy  was  not  to  lower 
the  character  of  the  individuals  ?  What  would  this  be  but  to  pronounce 
the  whole  profession  infamous  at  once — to  plunge  every  well-behaved 
actor,  or  virtuous  actress,  in  the  same  mire  of  abomination,  and  make 
the  name  of  the  stage  synonymous  with  vileness  ? 

But  there  is  another  consideration — with  what  impressions  must  wives, 
daughters  and  sons,  look  upon  a  stage  in  which  the  objects  of  such 
license  are  before  the  eye  ?  Without  alluding  to  the  unfortunate  case 
of  Miss  Paton,  let  us  take  any  of  the  instances  that  may  be  so  easily  found, 
of  some  actress  who  has  become  a  public  scandal ; — whose  profligacy  has 
made  its  way  into  every  newspaper — whose  crime  has  been  bruited  about 
in  every  shape  of  publicity,  so  that  there  is  scarcely  a  human  being  in  the 
country  who  is  not  fully  acquainted  with  it. — The  woman  has  been 
acknowledged  a  notorious  profligate,  a  vile  and  degraded  wretch,  seeking 
the  basest  lucre  by  the  basest  means,  a  disgust  to  the  sense  of  public 
decency,  and  a  disgrace  to  the  name  of  woman.  Is  it  fitting  that  such 

3  L2 


452  Notes  of  the  Month  on  QOcT. 

a  creature  should  be  paraded  before  the  public  eye,  that  the  chaste 
wife,  and  the  delicate  mind  of  youth,  should  be  forced  to  recollect  her 
story  by  seeing  her  figuring  before  them  on  the  stage,  and  not  merely 
suffered  there,  but  applauded  and  panegyrized  in  every  instrument  of 
public  opinion,  for  beauty,  talent,  and  so  forth,  daring  public  censure 
with  impunity,  and  flourishing  in  fame  and  fortune  ? 

How  many  must  the  exhibition  disgust ;  how  many  may  it  lead  to 
think  that  there  is  no  actual  distinction  between  purity  and  impurity  ; 
how  many  of  the  weak  may  it  tempt,  and  how  many  of  the  wicked  must 
it  sanction  and  encourage  ? 

But  then  we  are  told  we  suffer  others  just  as  culpable  to  appear. 
True,  and  the  public  does  itself  and  the  stage  dishonour  by  suffering 
them.  But  there  is  still  a  distinction.  Their  fall  has  not  been  so  recently 
before  the  public  that  their  name  cannot  be  mentioned  without  a  revival 
of  their  story.  Their  vice  has  past  away  sub  silentio.  We  hear  and  see 
Mrs.  A.  B.  or  C.  without  thinking  any  further  of  them  than  as  good  or 
bad  actresses.  Our  tolerance  of  them  on  the  stage  as  actresses  no  longer 
implies  tolerance  of  them  as  profligates,  and  the  evil  of  their  example  has 
been  partially  worn  away. 

But  with  any  profligate  who  comes  before  us  fresh  from  guilt,  with  the 
notoriety  of  her  vileness  forcing  itself  upon  us  in  every  channel  of  ob- 
servation, with  no  broken  spirit,  but  with  the  dashing  effrontery  of 
impudent  vice,  the  public  sanction  is  a  public  crime,  an  encouragement 
to  future  as  well  as  to  present  iniquity,  and  a  disgrace  at  once  to  the 
stage  and  the  country. 

They  may  say  what  they  please  of  an  Irishman's  being  in  two  places 
at  once,  but  commend  us  to  some  of  the  English  parsons,  for  multiplica- 
tion of  person. 

"  CAMBRIDGE. — Rev.  J.  Griffith,  prebendary  of  Rochester,  to  the  rec- 
tory of  Llangynhafel,  Denbigh. — Rev.  W.  M.  Mayers,  to  a  stall  in  the 
cathedral  of  St.  Patrick's,  with  the  rectory  of  Malhelburt  (a  non  cure)." 

Here  we  have  an  honest  cleric  contriving  to  do  his  duty  at  once  in 
Rochester  and  Denbigh,  and  no  doubt  with  equal  good  to  mankind,  and 
comfort  to  himself  in  both ;  as  for  the  second  worthy  gentleman,  his 
preferment  is  a  non  cure,  and  as  he  can  receive  his  salary  by  post,  he 
may  take  his  wings  and  rove  to  China,  without  a  crime  against  the  laws 
of  residence.  We  wish  both  the  gentlemen  joy  of  their  pleasant  pros- 
pects; nor  shall  we  hurt  their  feelings  by  asking  on  what  labours  in 
their  profession  fortune  has  thus  smiled  ?  We  are  afraid  their  names  do 
not  figure  in  the  list  of  authors,  sacred  or  classic,  that  the  scriptures 
have  not  been  deeply  indebted  to  their  elucidation,  nor  the  church  to 
their  eloquence !  But  they  can  at  least  write  receipts  for  their  salary, 
and  that  is  the  true  accomplishment,  after  all ! 

Old  Talleyrand's  appointment  to  the  British  Embassy  is  decidedly 
the  most  curious  among  the  problems  of  a  problematical  time.  It  is 
not  his  first  experiment  here,  however ;  he  was  among  us  forty  years 
ago,  first  to  get  a  little  money  for  himself,  as  a  fugitive  from  that 
loving  and  fraternal  government  which  freed  so  many  people  by  taking 
off  their  heads;  next  to  get  a  little  for  his  French  employers;  and  thirdly, 
to  get  a  little  from  the  fears  or  the  folly  of  America.  We  must  not  call 
an  ambassador  a  rogue,  but  old  Talleyrand  has  been  for  upwards  of  seventy 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General.  453 

long  years  the  most  dexterous  of  statesmen,  senators,  and  Frenchmen  ; 
the  man  who  could  keep  his  head  under  Robespierre,  his  money  under 
Barras,  his  place  under  Buonaparte,  his  pension  under  the  Bourbons,  and 
his  conscience,  his  smile,  his  hotel,  and  his  wife,  under  them  all,  is  no 
common  man  for  the  episcopal  bench ;  setting  apart  his  wit,  of  which 
he  has  kept  live  specimens  under  every  change  of  dynasty  in  France  since 
the  days  of  Danton  ! 

But  why  has  he  come  ?  Is  it  that  the  citizen  king  is  afraid  that 
Talleyrand  might  imbibe  ambition  in  his  old  days,  and  sigh  to  change 
the  mitre  for  the  crown  ?  Or  that  he  dreads  to  have  the  courtier  of 
Charles  X.  turned  into  the  partizan  ?  Or  that  he  wishes  to  have  a 
watch  upon  Wellington  ?  Or  that  he  is  simply  tired  of  him,  and  prefers 
the  society  of  the  very  crack-brained  Due  de  Broglie,  or  of  that  not  less 
crack-brained  lecturer  on  metaphysics,  now  metamorphosed  into  a 
minister,  M.  Guizot  ?  a  pair  of  statesmen,  who,  before  three  months  are 
over,  will  give  the  citizen  king  a  sufficient  lesson  of  the  wisdom  of 
expecting  visionaries  to  be  fit  for  anything  under  heaven,  but  to  write 
essays  in  reviews,  and  set  their  readers  asleep.  Or  is  he  come,  to  quiz. 
Charles  X.  into  giving  up  the  Duke  of  Bourdeaux  ?  Or  is  it  that  old 
Talleyrand,  wise  in  his  generation,  already  sees  the  signs  of  the  times, 
and  wishes  to  get  out  of  the  way  till  the  next  overthrow  is  quiet  ?  One 
thing  we  hope ;  that  some  of  our  stirring  publishers  will  lay  hold  on 
him,  tempt  his  avarice  with  a  handsome  sum,  and  make  him  write  his 
memoirs.  They  would  be  the  most  curious  things  in  Europe.  They 
would  tell  more  state  secrets,  turn  more  high  characters  into  ridicule, 
cover  more  hypocrites  with  shame,  strip  more  kings,  queens,  princesses, 
and  prime  ministers  of  their  public  honours,  account  for  more  pensions 
and  places,  give  the  history  of  more  coronets  and  orders,  more  country- 
houses,  curricles,  and  cavalry  colonelcies,  than  any  developments  of 
human  knavery  that  ever  came  from  the  pen  of  Frenchman.  This  he 
might  do,  if  he  would  but  tell  the  truth,  and  that  we  suppose  he  might 
be  induced  to  tell — for  the  due  value. 

His  countrymen  have  a  pleasant  idea  of  him.  "  For  fifty  years,"  says 
Le  Voleur,  "  whilst  so  many  systems  have  succeeded  each  other,  take 
the  Moniteur  from  the  commencement  of  these  governments,  and  you 
will  find  this  phrase,  which  seems  a  fundamental  one  for  the  Moniteur 
of  the  time : — '  To-day  M.  de  Talleyrand  had  the  honour  to  pay  his 
respects  to  the  king — or  to  the  emperor — or  to  the  consul — or  to  the 
director' — in  fact,  to  power"  We  remember  reading  the  reply  of  the 
English  Ambassador  at  tke  Hague,  during  the  protectorate  and  after  the 
restoration,  to  one  who  remarked  how  easily  he  changed  his  politics, 
"  Jesuis  letres-humble  serviteur  des  evenemens!"  There  are  pupils  of  the 
same  school  in  England. 

The  horrid  accident  which  put  an  end  to  Mr.  Huskisson's  life,  has  been 
too  much  before  the  public  to  allow  of  any  recapitulation  of  ours ;  even  if 
the  subject  were  not  so  painful  to  ourselves.  But  we  must  observe,  as 
to  the  coroner's  inquest,  that  we  should  have  preferred  a  much  less 
railway-jury.  Not  a  syllable  is  said  in  the  coroner's  charge,  of  the  mis- 
management of  the  machines,  of  the  want  of  preparation  in  the  carriages, 
nor  of  the  extraordinary  fact  that  the  machines  were  allowed  to  run  upon 
each  other  without  notice  of  any  kind.  According  to  the  details  of  the 
accident,  scarcely  had  half  a  dozen  gentlemen  got  out  of  one  of  the 


454  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [OcT. 

carriages,  when  one  of  those  tremendous  machines  was  close  upon  them, 
flying  at  the  rate  of  sixteen  miles  an  hour,  and  with  so  little  notice,  that 
nothing  but  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  quick  eye,  and  his  crying  out,  could 
have  prevented  its  crashing  over  the  whole  group.  All  they  could  do 
was  to  run  in  all  directions  for  their  lives !  Mr.  Calcraft  and  Prince 
Esterhazy  one  way,  others  in  another.  Mr.Holmes  could  escape  only 
by  clinging  to  the  car,  which  unfortunately  Mr.  Huskisson  attempted, 
but  was  not  in  time  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  the  flying  engine ;  which 
does  not  appear  to  have  stopped  for  any  of  them. 

Now,  undoubtedly,  there  was  some  mismanagement,  or  extreme  neg- 
ligence in  all  this,  which  ought  to  have  attracted  the  notice  of  the 
coroner.  Then  we  are  told  that  when  the  attempt  was  made  to  get 
into  the  car  there  were  no  means,  the  steps  were  not  there ;  in  fact,  that 
there  was  no  more  provision  for  accident  than  there  would  be  in  a  ship 
which  put  to  sea  without  boats.  Yet  on  such  a  state  of  preparation  we 
are  quite  satisfied  that  a  jury  might  have  made  some  remarks  in  their  ver- 
dict. Of  course,  the  directors  and  machine-people  are  nervous  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  wish  the  world  to  believe  the  accident  to  have  been  quite  inevi- 
table. Yet  it  seems  to  us  to  have  been  no  more  inevitable  than  any 
other  mischief,  from  a  stage-coach  in  the  hands  of  a  rash  driver,  or  from 
an  over-drove  ox,  or  a  horse  left  loose  in  the  streets  to  gallop  over  whom 
he  likes.  We  should  have  desired  to  know  why  the  engineer  of  the 
Rocket — if  that  was  the  name  of  the  pursuing  engine — did  not  instantly 
stop,  or  at  least  moderate  its  speed,  when  he  saw  the  road  covered  with 
persons.  According  to  the  account,  it  seems  to  have  dashed  on  without 
stop  or  stay ;  and  we  have  to  return  him  no  thanks  for  its  not  having 
crushed  the  whole  half  dozen  or  dozen  to  powder.  All  this,  we  think, 
would  have  drawn  a  question  from  us,  if  we  had  been  on  the  jury. 

But  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  directors,  though  they  may  have  been 
warned  by  no  deodand,  will  have  the  wisdom  to  provide  against  the 
recurrence  of  those  horrid  accidents.  The  expedient  of  feelers,  or 
wheels  in  front,  has  been  proposed,  to  prepare  them  to  stop  when  any 
object  may  lie  in  their  way.  Something  of  the  kind  must  be  contrived. 
The  danger  is  the  velocity.  What  human  speed  could  get  out  of  the 
way  of  a  velocity  of  thirty-three  miles  an  hour,  or  of  the  half  of  thirty- 
three  ?  or  what  force  could  stand  against  it  ?  We  might  as  well  stand 
against  a  thunderbolt.  The  invention  is  admirable  ;  and  it  may  be  made 
an  inexhaustible  source  of  public  benefit.  But  unless  the  directors  wish 
to  baffle  their  own  labour,  and  make  this  great  invention  an  object  of 
public  terror,  they  will  look  to  the  prevention  of  every  thing  that  can 
endanger  the  public  safety. 

St.  John  Long's  miraculous  cures  have  set  the  whole  faculty  in  a 
flame ;  and  unless  it  shall  go  hard  with  him  at  the  Old  Bailey,  we  have 
no  doubt  that  before  a  year  is  over  we  shall  see  him  in  his  coach  and 
four.  He  is  a  quack  by  common  consent,  and  in  all  ages  such  have 
thriven;  for  in  all  ages  medicine  has  been  a  problem;  the  regular 
physician  little  more  than  an  experimentalist  after  all ;  and  the  question 
has  merely  lain  between  the  experimentalist  who  writes  the  worst 
Latin  on  earth,  and  the  experimentalist  who  can  write  no  language 
whatever. 

In  this  race  the  charlatan  must  often  win,  for  in  the  first  place  he 
runs  light :  he  has  no  character  for  science  to  lose,  no  solemn  authority 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  455 

to  dread,  no  books  to  puzzle  him,  and,  if  he  can  escape  the  constable  and 
the  coroner,  he  fears  not  the  face  of  man.  In  the  next,  the  charlatan 
generally  starts  with  some  actual  novelty  of  knowledge,  some  real  secret 
of  nature  in  his  possession  ;  he  has  either  invented  or  remembered  some 
of  those  nostrums  of  which  old  women  were  once  the  established  practiti- 
oners,  and  the  wives  of  parsons  and  old  baronets  the  legitimate  dispensers. 
He  is  not,  like  the  physician,  sent  into  the  world  licensed  to  kill,  and  trading 
in  mortality  only  on  the  stock  of  his  bookcase.  It  is  the  possession  of  some 
secret  that  has  turned  the  mind  of  the  universal  genius  to  curing  the  head- 
ache, the  heartache,  the  nightmare,  and  all  the  natural  ills  that  flesh  is 
heir  to,  while  otherwise  he  might  have  benefited  society  as  a  tailor,  or 
a  tinker,  or  a  common-councilman,  or  a  member  for  South  war  k,  or  a  re- 
cruiting officer,  or  a  radical,  and  triply  eclipsed  the  glories  of  Sir  Robert 
Wilson  himself.  As  to  St.  John  Long's  curing  the  Countess  of  Buck- 
ingham's back,  or  Mrs.  Trelawney's  toe,  expelling  the  incubus  that  has 
disturbed  Lady  Harriet  Butler's  dreams,  curing  Sir  Francis  Burdett  of 
his  love  of  popularity,  or  cooling  that  sentimental  looking  personage,  Sir 
Alexander  Johnson,  of  his  mortal  vision  of  personal  beauty,  we  have 
all  the  necessary  faith,  and  believe  that  he  did  good  service  to  the  state. 
The  truth  is,  that  if  he  had  kept  his  practice  to  those  who  have  nothing 
in  life  to  do  but  to  kill  Time,  till  that  fortunate  period  when  Time  re- 
venges himself,  and  comforts  the  community,  the  twaddlers  and  swad- 
dlers,  the  haunters  of  club-rooms,  the  daily  visitors  of  bazaars,  the  fat 
and  ancient  dowagers  whose  love  for  humanity  is  shown  in  bloated 
poodles,  parrots,  and  familiar  generations  of  cats ;  the  old  retired  In- 
dians, with  curry  complexions,  eternal  complaints  of  the  climate,  and 
querulous  longings  for  the  full  pay  and  "  allowances,"  the  Batta  and 
the  Bungalow,  all  of  which  they  cursed  from  the  bottom  of  their  cups 
every  day  of  their  enjoyment  of  them ;  men  whose  talk  is  of  Tippoo 
Saib,  and  who  settle  the  world  in  Hanover-square,  Hooka  in  hand ;  if 
St.  John  Long  had  built  his  tent  among  this  phthysical  tribe,  he  must 
have  at  once  done  good  to  society  and  himself,  to  the  one  by  clearing 
them  of  their  superfluous  sovereigns,  and  to  the  other  by  putting  them 
in  his  own  pocket.  No  doubt  he  could  cure  an  imaginary  complaint,  as 
well  as  any  Halford  or  Heberden  in  existence. 

But  we  should  be  sorry  to  see  him  suffered  to  go  beyond  this  class, 
and  we  hope  that  if  he  shall  be  found  embrocating  any  human  being  who 
may  be  worth  keeping  alive,  he  may  be  sent  where  he  can  cure  nothing 
but  crocodiles  or  kangaroos. 

But  Mr.  Surgeon  Brodie's  part  of  the  affair  is  the  most  curious  of  all. 
He  is  called  in  to  save  the  unfortunate  patient,  Miss  Cashin,  who  was 
brought  by  her  foolish  mother,  to  make  her  "  better  than  well."  He 
sees  the  poor  girl  in  agony.  He  declares  her  in  a  dangerous  state  ;  that 
nothing  but  the  most  active  help  can  recover  her.  And,  after  all,  for 
the  souls  of  us,  we  cannot  see  that  he  did  any  thing  that  might  not  be 
done  by  St.  John  Long  himself.  He  looks,  shakes  his  professional 
head,  writes  a  prescription,  and  walks  away,  and  the  poor  girl  dies. 
If  the  surgeon  put  himself  to  any  trouble,  we  cannot  find  it  in  the 
evidence.  Perhaps  he  did  not  like  to  interfere  with  a  brother  man  of 
science  !  But  of  Mr.  Brodie  we  hear  no  more ! 

General  Sharpe's  and  Sir  Anthony  Carlisle's  correspondence  is  capital. 
A  pair  of  geese,  plucking  each  other's  last  surviving  feathers  for  the 
amusement  of  the  public.  The  old  general  evidently  enjoys  the  jest 


456  Notes  of  the  Month  on  £OcT. 

prodigiously,  and  as  evidently  feels  his  chief  grievance  in  the  cruelty  of 
the  reporters,  who,  as  he  says,  have  not  given  any  idea  of  the  pleasantry 
of  his  style  of  cross-examining  the  jury,  and  every  body.  Sir  Anthony, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  very  pleasant  too,  and  very  impudent  to  the  old 
general,  whom  he  accuses  of  "  squinting/'  of  not  knowing  the  distinc- 
tion between  a  doctor  of  physic  and  a  doctor  of  laws,  music,  or  horse- 
medicine,  and  of  being  a  little  out  of  practice  in  his  grammar. 

The  true  secret  is,  the  old  general's  expecting  the  knight's  advice 
without  a  fee!  Sir  Anthony  was  of  course  too  professional  to  suffer  the 
general  to  get  any  thing  to  the  purpose  out  of  him ;  and  talking 
nonsense,  d  propos,  he  left  the  old  Scotchman  and  old  soldier  (as  tough 
and  money-loving  a  combination  as  any  under  the  sun),  to  make  the 
most  of  his  gratis  opinion.  All  the  world  knew  already  the  value  of 
i{  physic,  and  law  for  nothing,"  and  we  suppose  the  general,  who  writes 
gaily  (for  a  man  married  a  second  time),  has  now  got  experience  enough 
to  make  him  think  a  guinea  saved  not  worth  a  coroner's  inquest,  for 
the  rest  of  his  days. 

At  the  same  time,  the  regular  professors  may  take  some  hints  from  St. 
John  Long.  His  practice  of  drawing  inflammation  from  one  part  of  the 
frame,  where  it  is  dangerous,  to  another  part  where  it  may  be  com- 
paratively harmless,  is  one  of  those  old  practices  which  modern  science 
has  foolishly  forgotten.  Yet  there  can  be  nothing  more  undoubted  than 
the  advantages  often  to  be  derived  from  it.  By-exciting  disease  in  a 
limb  it  has  often  been  withdrawn  from  a  vital  part,  as  the  gout  excited 
in  the  toe  prevents  it  from  being  the  disease  of  the  heart.  Another  of 
the  blunders  of  modern  science  is  that  of  conceiving  that  inflammation 
constitutes  the  cause  of  decay  in  consumptive  habits.  This  is  error  the 
first  in  the  case.  And  that  this  inflammation  is,  like  the  inflammation  of 
a  drunkard's  veins,  to  be  cured  by  exhausting  the  patient.  This  is  error 
'the  second.  The  fact  resulting  from  the  whole  of  this  fine  theory  is,  that 
the  patient  slips  from  the  doctor's  fingers  into  the  sexton's,  and  is  troubled, 
and  troubles  no  more.  He  dies  under  the  operation  of  cure.  Theory 
triumphs  in  the  fulfilment  of  its  duty,  the  doctor  writes  it  down  in  his 
journal  as  a  new  case  of  sound  practice,  and  consumption  is  decreed  to 
be  an  incurable  disease  for  a  century  to  come.  But  our  wise  men  must 
now  look  again  to  their  theory.  St.  John  Long's  grand  panacea  is  the  due 
application  of  beef  and  mutton.  With  the  beef-steak  and  the  cutlet  he 
faces  the  enemy,  throws  potion  and  pill  to  the  dogs,  and  bids  the  delicate 
grow  plump  as  fast  as  they  can,  and  the  given-over  walk  in  the  face  of 
(lay,  call  on  their  physicians  in  defiance,  and  either  challenge  them  to  a 
meeting  in  Hyde-Park,  or  laugh  them  out  of  the  regions  of  the 
fashionable.  To  this  it  must  come  at  last,  and  soon  too.  For  our 
part,  we  would  not  trust  any  thing  to  the  reputation  of  a  doctor  in  a 
difficult  case.  For,  to  the  disgrace  of  medicine,  the  whole  of  it,  in  the 
higher  branches,  is  what  we  call  theory  in  the  man  who  has  taken  out 
his  diploma,  and  what  we  call  charlatanery  in  the  man  who  has  never 
stepped  within  college  walls.  But  let  our  doctors  try  the  beef-steak 
system.  The  inhaling  gas  goes  for  nothing  with  us,  though  it  obviously 
goes  a  great  way  to  mystify  the  baronets,  M.P.'s,  and  other  old  ladies 
who  are  to  be  operated  upon.  The  embrocation,  with  aquafortis,  oil  of 
Vitriol,  or  corrosive  sublimate,  does  not  altogether  suit  the  delicacy  of 
our  particular  cuticle,  and  we  leave  it  to  the  taste  of  those  who  may 
have  an  enjoyment  in  excoriations  a  yard  and  a  half  long.  But  of  the 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General.  457 

beef-steak  regimen  we  cordially  approve,  and  fully  agree  in  the  wisdom 
of  living  as  long  as  we  can,  and  growing  fat  to  keep  ourselves  warm  in 
the  frosts  of  age  ! 

A  paragraph  in  a  Scotch  newspaper,  in  some  fierce  controversy  about 
roasting  coffee,  gives  a  capital  conception  for  the  improvement  of  news- 
papers. 

"  Let  a  boiler  be  well  filled  with  a  due  proportion  of  high  pressure 
puffs,  poems,  paragraphs,  parliamentary  speeches,  politics,  intrigues, 
despatches,  deaths,  births,  marriages,  disasters  at  sea,  &c.  &c. ;  these 
being  well  stirred  together,  after  the  manner  of  the  Witches  in  Macbeth, 
as  soon  as  the  steam  is  up,  a  cran  is  turned  with  much  dexterity  and 
ingenuity  on  a  pipe  like  the  water-conductor  of  a  fire-engine,  when, 
squirt,  out  flies  high-pressure  type  by  the  thousand  yards,  which,  being 
skilfully  directed  first  against  one  sheet,  then  against  another,  a  whole 
publication  comes  spouting  to  light  in  no  time." 

There  might  be  some  difficulty  in  managing  the  "  political  arti- 
cles," those  ponderous  affairs  called  the  leaders,  which  require  such 
perpetual  shifting  of  opinion,  which  make  the  newspaper  of  to-day 
a  satire  on  the  newspaper  from  the  same  press  and  pen  of  a  week 
before.  But,  on  all  other  points,  the  mechanical  system  is  admirable. 
For  jnstance,  it  might  be  applied  to  all  county  meetings  for  fifty  years 
to  come,  without  the  change  of  a  letter ;  to  the  oratory  of  the  Miltons, 
the  Bells,  and  Beaumonts  of  the  north,  the  Lethbridges,  and  other 
trimmers  and  blockheads  of  the  south,  and  the  Wilsons,  Whitbreads, 
Byngs,  and  Lord  John  Russels  of  the  Middlesex  and  Southwark  portion 
of  the  national  eloquence.  The  speeches  of  every  one  of  those  orators 
might  have  been  stereotyped  for  the  last  twenty  years.  We  have  the 
same  pompous  pretences  to  national  feeling,  the  same  abject  evasions,  the 
same  rapturous  delight  at  the  view  of  their  constituents  eating,  drinking, 
voting,  and  rioting,  and  the  same  solemn  pledges  to  "  Liberty  all  over 
the  World!" 

The  same  note  of  scorn  might  be  added  to  every  one  of  their 
harangues  ;  and  the  same  indignation  at  the  perpetual  contrast  between 
bloated  promise  and  empty  performance.  The  minister's  expose,  called 
the  King's  Speech,  might  be  trusted  with  equal  security  to  the  machine ; 
for  in  our  memory  it  has  never  altered,  above  half-a-dozen  phrases ; 
and  their  substitutes  were  as  closely  as  possible  identified  with  the  old. 
In  those  matters  the  finances  are  always  in  a  prosperous  state,  the  country 
quiet,  the  foreign  powers  loading  us  with  assurances  of  perpetual  peace  ; 
commerce  flourishing  beyond  all  example ;  reduction  the  order  of 
the  day ;  and  economy,  rigid  economy,  the  principle  of  his  Majesty's 
ministers.  Their  mode  of  fulfilling  those  fine  promises,  might  very 
safely  be  stereotyped  too,  with  only  the  additions  of  a  dozen  or  two  of 
sinecures,  for  the  public  comfort,  a  couple  of  millions  down  in  the 
customs,  and  another  £500,000  for  painting  and  papering,  for  bandy- 
legged statues  and  architectural  blunders,  in  the  new  palace. 
.  All  the  minor  matters  of  speeches  of  the  common-council  Ciceros, 
the  presentations  of  snuff-boxes  to  the  Peels,  "  rats  and  mice,  and  such 
small  deer  •"  the  harangues  of  barristers  at  election- dinners,  the  Afri- 
can, Anti-African,  the  Camberwell  Society  for  Washing  Blackamoors 
White,  the  Wilberforcian,  Muggletonian,  Owenian,  Cosmopolitan 
meetings  in  chapels,  floor-cloth  manufactories,  dock-yards,  and  taverns, 

M.  M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  58.  3  M 


458  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [OCT. 

might  all  be  safely  trusted  to  the  imagination  of  the  machine,  which  we 
have  no  doubt  would  do  its  duty,  and  transmit  to  the  laughing  universe 
the  whole  eloquence  of  those  flying  philosophers,  without  losing  the 
slightest  effluvium  of  its  original  genius,  intelligence,  utility,  or 
wisdom. 

Poor  Lord  Ellenborough's  misfortunes  are  not  over  yet.  We 
acknowledge  that  he  bears  them  with  the  best  face  of  insensibility,  of 
arxy  unlucky  husband  in  town ;  and  when  his  hat  is  on,  what  with  his 
ringlets,  and  his  roses,  he  contrives  to  look  a  gay  youth  of  fifty.  But 
Miss  Digby,  the  portentous  Miss  Digby,  has  started  again  for  fame, 
and  divides  with  his  lordship  the  admiration  of  the  lower  classes. 

"  THE  FAIR  JANETTE. — We  have  heard  that  Miss  Digby  (late  Lady 
Ellenborough)  has  recently  purchased  a  cottage  ornee  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  Regent's-park.  The  fair  divorcee  may  continually  be  seen 
thereabouts.  She  is  attired  in  deep  mourning,  and  accompanied  by  a 
beautiful  little  boy  of  about  five  years  of  age,  whom  she  has  adopted  as 
a  solace  in  her  retirement.  A  '  good-natured  friend/  on  mentioning 
this  circumstance  to  '  the  tame  elephant/  begged  his  lordship  to  console 
himself,  for  that  wherever  he  resided  he  was  sure  to  have  a  cottage 
hornce  of  his  own." 

Such  is  the  remark  of  the  newspapers,  inspired  by  the  spirit  of 
Rogers,  or  Alvanly,  or  some  of  the  standards  of  pleasantry  in  our 
vivacious  world.  The  lady  has  returned,  to  new  conquests,  of  course ; 
and  her  card  is  now — the  sentimental.  The  mourning,  the  orphan 
protegee,  the  deep  melancholy,  the  cottage,  exquisitely  simple,  with  a 
sensitive-plant  in  front,  a  cage  with  a  turtle-dove  mourning  for  its  mate, 
a  guitar  hanging  in  sight,  and  the  fair  undone  herself,  the  victim  of  a 
too  ardent  sensibility,  the  modern  Eloise,  sad  as  night,  and  dark  as  the 
hopes  of  buried  love ;  the  drooping  flower,  that  perishes  before  the  eye, 
and  is  dying  under  the  cruel  aspersions  of  an  ungenerous  generation  ; 
Heavens !  how  irresistible  must  Miss  Digby  be  under  all  this  weight  of 
woe !  We  caution  that  notorious  sentimentalist,  Lord  Hertford,  from 
walking  round  his  own  grounds,  for  fear  of  being  suddenly  captivated 
— "  shot  i'  the  heart,"  as  Mercutio  says,  "  by  a  white  wench's  black 
eye."  He  might  have  added — in  a  black  veil  and  bonnet,  which  must 
make  the  wound  mortal. 


It  must  be  allowed  that  the  French  do  showy  things  in  the  most 
showy  style  of  any  nation  of  Europe.  One  of  their  old  merits  was  the 
patronage  of  Literature.  From  Louis  the  Fourteenth  'down  to 
Napoleon,  they  had  the  honourable  ambition  of  struggling  for  the 
precedence  in  every  class  of  literary  fame ;  and  the  allowable  dexterity 
of  flattering  the  leading  writers  of  all  countries  into  a  regard  for 
France.  They  gave  little  distinctions,  little  medals,  little  pensions, 
and  little  titles  to  the  little  men  of  academies  in  all  lands,  and  reaped  the 
full  harvest  of  those  donations  in  praise. 

The  Russians,  always  imitators  of  the  Grande  Nation,  and  extremely 
anxious  to  play  the  same  part  on  the  continent,  whether  with  the  pen  or 
the  pike,  the  cannon  or  the  cordon  rouge;  have  been  for  some  years 
trying  the  same  plan,  and  giving  rings,  like  thimbles,  set  with  diamonds 
that  certainly  have  a  villainous  likeness  to  Bristol  stones ;  but  those 
rings  were  given  to  all  sorts  of  people  for  all  sorts  of  things  :  for  a  new 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General.  459 

pattern  of  a  joint-stool,  for  a  five-shilling  compilation  of  barbarous 
poetry,  for  a  pair  of  breeches  cut  out  of  the  living  bear,  for  a  tetotum  on 
a  new  and  infallible  construction,  "  warranted  to  spin,"  for  a  print  of  the 
features  of  some  grim  Slavonic  ancestor,  some  Count  of  Wolfania,"  or 
Duke  of  Sabreland,  taken  from  the  original  carving  in  the  Church  of 
our  Holy  Mother  of  Kasan,  or  for  a  quarto  of  Travels  through  Russia, 
with  all  the  anecdotes,  from  the  newspapers,  all  the  discoveries,  from 
the  road-books,  all  the  history,  from  the  tables  d'hote,  and  all  the 
"  vignettes,  views,  inscriptions,"  original, — from  the  print-shops. 

On  those  brilliant  productions  even  the  thimbles  of  the  Czar  Nicholas 
were  thrown  away ;  and  the  imperial  liberality  being  fairly  exhausted 
some  time  since,  and  finding  that  no  European  fame  redounded  to  it  from 
the  labours  of  "  illustrious  men,"  (unknown  in  any  country  but  their  own, 
and  there  known  only  to  be  laughed  at),  has  prohibited  "  All  men  by 
these  presents,"  in  future  to  dedicate  book,  or  send  print,  or  transmit 
sleeve-button,  and  above  all,  to  insult  it  with  poetry.  The  Russian 
ambassador  has  received  strict  orders,  on  pain  of  the  knout,  not  to  trans- 
mit any  further  beggar's  petition  of  this  kind  to  his  Imperial  Majesty;  and 
notice  has  been  given  to  contributors  in  general  that,  though  Siberia  is 
but  a  month's  journey  from  St.  Petersburg,  the  Czar  is  about  locating 
a  new  settlement  for  their  benefit  within  sight  of  the  Pole. 

Louis  Philippe,  however,  is  beginning  on  a  better  plan,  much  more 
useful  to  the  world,  and  which  will  repay  France  much  more  steadily  in 
praise  (to  this  we  have  no  objection)  than  money  lavished  on  such 
slippery  personages  as  the  mob  of  authorship.  We  are  informed  that 
"  The  King  of  the  French  has  given  instructions  to  a  distinguished 
litterateur  to  obtain  for  him  a  correct  list  of  all  the  literary  and  scientific 
bodies  in  Europe,  with  a  precise  account  of  their  charitable  institutions, 
in  order  that  he  may  subscribe  to  those  which  he  considers  the  most 
deserving  of  support.  It  is  stated  that  at  present  the  king  bestows 
nearly  one  million  of  francs  per  annum,  directly,  or  indirectly,  in  the 
encouragement  of  literature  and  science  ;  and  that  he  insists  upon  each 
of  his  children  patronising  works  of  art  to  an  extent  justified  by  the 
pecuniary  means  which  he  has  placed  at  their  disposal/'  This  is 
manly,  and  kingly  too. 

The  true  name  for  the  nineteenth  century  is  the  "  Age  of  Puffery  ;" 
and  the  following  is  as  pretty  an  instance  of  the  practice  as  we  have 
lately  seen.  One  of  the  newspapers  publishes  this  annonce  : —  i 

Bishop  (!)  Luscombe. — "  It  is  generally  thought  that  this  worthy 
divine,  who  bears  the  Christian  name  of  Bishop,  is  one  of  the  highest 
dignitaries  of  the  church — such  is  not  the  case.  Bishop  Luscombe  has, 
for  years,  been  Chaplain  at  the  English  Embassy  in  Paris,  where  his 
humane  and  religious  pursuits  have  ensured  him  the  esteem  of  all  those 
who  have  the  pleasure  of  his  acquaintance.  He  has  always  shewn  him- 
self the  philanthropist ;  and  many  poor  English  mechanics,  who  have 
been  obliged  to  leave  France  in  consequence  of  false  hopes  having  been 
held  out  to  them,  have  never  failed  meeting  with  relief  from  him  when 
applied  to.  When  his  present  Majesty,  then  Duke  of  Clarence,  was  at 
Dieppe,  he  was  introduced  to  his  Royal  Highness,  who  kindly  invited 
him,  whenever  he  came  over  to  this  country,  to  pay  him  a  visit.  He 
lately  arrived  at  Brighton,  where  he  had  the*  honour  of  preaching  before 
their  Majesties." 

3  M  2 


400  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [OcT. 

Another  of  the  papers  correcting  the  ludicrous  blunder  of  making 
the  man's  Christian  name  "  Bishop,"  gives  him  a  "  mission  connected 
•with  France,"  and  says,  "  he  administers  to  the  spiritual  comforts  of  his 
church  in  that  kingdom/' 

Neither  the  Globe,  in  which  the  paragraph  appeared,  nor  the  Age, 
which  made  the  comment,  can  be  charged  with  a  propensity  of  puffing, 
and  yet  the  paragraph  thus  imposed  on  them  is  a  puff  direct.  The 
truth  of  the  matter  is  this.  The  reverend  person  is  an  American,  who, 
liking  to  make  his  way  in  Europe,  and  thinking  that  though  the  gates 
of  preferment  were  shut  upon  him  in  England  and  Scotland,  there  was 
something  to  be  got  in  France,  made  a  tour,  chiefly  among  the  English, 
and  returned  to  England  with  the  formidable  discovery  that  they  were  all 
going  the  way  of  ruin,  and  that  the  only  hope  of  averting  it,  was  by  sub- 
jecting them  all  to  the  rite  of  confirmation.  For  this  apostolical  service 
the  American  volunteered  hinself.  But  confirmation  is  a  rite  reserved 
to  bishops,  and  he,  therefore,  requested  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  to 
consecrate  him  forthwith.  But  the  archbishop  had  no  idea  of  doing  any 
thing  of  the  kind,  and  the  would-be  bishop  was  forced  to  look  to  some 
less  refractory  quarter.  Luckily  there  remains  in  Scotland  a  little  con- 
gregation which  calls  its  pastors  bishops,  and  to  them  the  Doctor  applied. 
They  were  only  too  much  delighted  at  the  opportunity  of  sending  a  bishop 
of  their  own  making  afloat  in  paries  infidelium,  and  they  accordingly  con- 
secrated the  Doctor.  He  then  went  forth,  confirming  the  sons  and  daugh- 
ters of  our  travellers  in  his  journeys  through  France,  a  good  deal  to  the 
offenceof  the  French  people,  who  naturally  enough  asked  what  empowered 
a  foreigner  to  go  preaching  and  laying  on  hands  in  this  bustling  style 
through  their  country  ?  However,  at  last,  whether  to  stop  his  peregri- 
nations, which  were  undoubtedly  a  source  of  dissatisfaction  to  the 
French  government ;  or  to  reward  his  apostolical  zeal,  the  Doctor  got 
the  British  chaplaincy  in  Paris,  where  he  now  figures  in  his  lawn 
sleeves.  We  see  that  he  "  happened"  to  be  at  Dieppe,  when  the  suc- 
cessor to  the  throne  was  there  for  a  day  or  two,  and  that  he  now  "  hap- 
pens" to  be  at  Brighton,  and  "happens"  to  preach  before  that  successor, 
now  that  he  is  king ;  and  we  will  undertake  to  say  that  the  whole  three 
"  happened"  with  just  the  same  degree  of  accident.  We  are  not  yet 
prepared,  however,  for  seeing  him  in  an  English  cathedral,  nor  are  we 
much  delighted  with  even  seeing  him  in  an  English  chaplaincy.  The 
Americans  are  excellent  fellows  sometimes,  but  we  think  the  less  they 
have  to  do  with  English  affairs  on  the  Continent,  the  better  for  the 
affairs.  Let  an  Englishman  be  appointed  to  the  chapel  of  the  em- 
bassy. We  wish  Bishop  Luscombe  a  safe  voyage  to  New  York,  and 
a  happy  meeting  with  his  friend  Bishop  Hobart,  that  impudent  and 
ungrateful  coxcomb,  who,  after  receiving  our  hospitality,  had  no  sooner 
set  his  sanctified  foot  in  Yankey-land,  than  he  published  a  foul  and 
vulgar  attack  upon  the  whole  Church  of  England. 

The  Times  applauds  the  new  French  style  of  abolishing  "  My  Lord," 
in  the  address  to  peers  and  ministers. 

"  It  will  be  perceived  that  the  new  government  of  France  have 
introduced  a  new  mode  of  address  among  the  peers  of  France,  and 
even  among  the  great  functionaries  of  state.  There  are  to  be  no  more 
'  My  Lords'  among  them — no  longer  Monseigneur,  but  M.  le  Ministre. 
Now  there  is  no  country  in  Europe  in  which  the  distinction  between 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General.  461 

peer  and  commoner  is  so  marked  as  in  England ;  and^that  owing  to  the 
existence  of  those  absurd  and  even  profane  addresses  (  My  Lord/  as 
applied  to  the  former ;  and  *  your  Lordship/  f  your  Grace/  and  '  noble 
Lords.'  Foreigners  are  disgusted  with  us  on  this  account  ;  and  think  that, 
with  the  freest  institutions,  we  are  the  basest  people,  to  suffer  such  a  distinc- 
tion to  exist  in  daily  practice." 

The  Standard  scoffs  at  the  republicanism  of  the  idea,  and  ridicules 
the  learning  ;  saying,  that  in  every  nation  in  Europe  titles  are  more  in 
use  than  in  England,  which  is  true,  as  every  body  must  know,  from  the 
rabble  of  Barons,  Dukes,  and  Princes,  that  make  their  sojourn  among  us 
now  and  then;  and  also  that  Don,  Monsieur,  Mynheer,  Mein  Herr,  alike 
mean  my  Lord,  while  the  common  Spanish  address  of  listed,  means 
((  your  Excellence." 

To  this  the  Morning  Chronicle  rejoins,  that  those  titles,  whatever 
they  might  once  have  meant,  now  mean  but  the  simplest  acknow- 
ledgment of  respect,  or,  in  fact,  mean  nothing.  But  to  this  must 
be  objected,  that  if  they  mean  nothing  now,  it  is  from  their  having 
been  first  made  common.  There  are  villages  in  Spain  where  every  one 
is  connected  with  some  prince,  and  where  prince  is  the  title  of  fellows 
that  lead  your  horse  to  the  stable,  or  set  out  your  dinner.  All  the  peasantry 
of  Guipuscoa,  and  most  of  the  Biscayans,  look  upon  themselves  as  actual 
nobles.  The  commonness  of  the  distinction  has  made  it  worthless,  but 
the  plurality  of  titles  is,  of  course,  only  the  more  obvious.  The 
Morning  Chronicle  would  have  it,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  common- 
ness of  a  title  extinguishes  the  title  itself;  which,  we  fear  is  a  rather 
hasty  conclusion.  If  it  had  said  that  commonness  diminishes  the  value, 
or  the  power,  or  the  pleasure  of  a  title,  we  should,  of  course,  agree  with 
it.  The  fact  is,  that  the  taste  of  foreigners  for  giving  titles  is  so  great, 
that  they  have  long  ago  supped  full  of  the  indulgence;  they  have  now  run 
out  their  stock,  and  have  left  themselves  nothing  untouched  by  the 
vulgar  hand,  but  king  and  deity.  It  is  no  fault  of  theirs  if  the  language 
of  titles  is  limited,  and  that,  when  they  come  up  to  prince  they  must  stop. 
Certainly,  so  far  as  they  may  use  those  marks  of  honour  they  have  used 
them  to  their  heart's  content ;  and  in  Italy,  and  Germany,  princes  are 
as  thick  as  mulberries,  and  by  no  means  so  valuable  to  the  community. 

Foreigners  then  have  no  right  "  to  call  the  English  the  basest  people, 
with  the  freest  institutions ;"  for  the  difference  between  a  title  in 
England,  and  one  on  the  Continent,  is  no  more  than  that  the  English 
one  is  a  demand  upon  public  respect,  because  our  titles  are  compari- 
tively  so  few,  while  the  foreign  is  seldom  a  demand  upon  any  body's 
respect,  because  foreigners  have  been  in  the  habit  of  giving  them  to  so 
many. 

But  there  is  no  necessity  for  all  this  wrath  at  a  practice  which  has 
grown  out  of  the  necessities  of  society.  There  must  be  in  all  kingdoms 
rewards  for  eminent  merit,  in  war,  politics,  legislation,  and  the  other 
leading  forms  of  public  service.  There  can  be  but  two  ways  of  reward 
— money  or  honours.  What  would  society  gain  by  making  money  the 
sole  reward?  An  enormous  expense  would  be  the  first  result — the  next 
would  be  to  infect  the  nation  with  a  mercenary  spirit,  by  making  money 
the  standard  of  merit.  But  if  the  state  had  the  power  to  pour  out  the 
whole  treasury  in  rewards,  the  result  would  still  be  inadequate.  The  ob- 
ject is  to  give  some  exclusive  mark  by  which  the  individual  is  elevated 
above  the  general  classes  of  the  community,  for  his  services;  but  money  will 


462  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [OCT. 

not  do  this.  If  the  state  were  to  give  ten  thousand  pounds  a  year  to  its 
man  of  merit,  there  are  ten  thousand  grocers  and  cheesemongers  who 
make  ten  thousand  pounds  a  year ;  give  him  a  hundred  thousand,  a 
rogue  of  a  stockbroker,  or  a  grinding  government-contractor,  clears  the 
sum  in  a  week  or  a  day.  The  point  is,  to  give  a  reward  which  shall  be 
inaccessible  to  the  lower  and  more  commonplace  pursuits  of  life,  and 
that  reward  can  alone  be  in  some  mark  of  honour  proceeding  from  the 
throne ;  an  order,  higher  still,  a  title ;  and  higher  still,  a  title  which 
confers  nobility  not  merely  on  its  first  receiver,  but  on  all  his  descend- 
ants. A  title  has  the  peculiar  advantages— of  being  congenial  to  the 
spirit  of  honour,  which  is  the  spirit  of  all  that  is  truly  eminent  in  public 
life,  and  which  it  should  be  the  first  object  of  the  state  to  excite  and 
sustain. — Next  it  is  the  least  costly  of  all  rewards  to  the  state,  a  matter 
of  no  trivial  importance  ; — and  next,  it  is  exclusive  and  unattainable  but 
by  the  will  of  the  state  or  sovereign,  which  is  not  the  case  with 
money. 

At  the  same  time  we  allow  that  titles  may  grow  too  common,  even 
here ;  that  a  title  without  wealth  to  support  its  rank  is  an  abuse,  and 
that  a  poor  peerage  must  be  at  once  an  object  of  public  scorn  and  of 
political  danger.  A  pensioned  pauper,  though  a  peer,  must  be  a  slave, 
and  in  the  present  strides  to  grasp  at  the  whole  power  of  the  country, 
patriotic  men  cannot  watch  too  carefully  the  composition  of  the  House 
of  Lords.  The  project  of  creating  peers  for  life  only,  has  been  proposed, 
but  the  obvious  result  would  be  to  crowd  the  House  with  creatures  of 
the  minister  on  any  emergency,  as  he  would  feel  that  in  a  few  years  his 
creation  would  be  got  rid  of  by  death,  and  the  peerage  no  more  crowded 
than  before.  It  would  also  give  him  a  formidable  patronage  ;  for  every 
death  would  allow  him,  at  least,  the  opportunity  of  filling  up  the 
vacancy,  if  he  so  pleased,  and  he  would  have  candidates  in  multitudes 
for  the  honour.  It  would  also  make  two  classes  of  peers,  and  would  tend 
to  violent  schisms  in  the  House.  But  the  true  remedy  for  the  disease  is 
a  qualification.  As  in  the  Commons  no  man  can  sit  for  a  borough,  who 
has  not  300/.  a  year  landed  property,  or  for  a  county  who  has  not 
600/. ;  so,  let  no  peer  hereafter  created  be  capable  of  sitting  in  parliament 
without  a  freehold  estate  of  20,000/.  a  year,  the  very  least  sum  on  which 
a  peer  of  England  can  sustain  his  rank  with  fitting  dignity ;  and  let  no 
peer  be  created  who  cannot  settle  on  his  son,  and  the  descendants  of  that 
son,  his  20,000/.  a  year.  This  would  give  the  peerage  a  dignity  in  the 
public  eye,  which  will  never  be  given  to  the  poor  nobleman.  It  will 
give  them  a  power  of  preserving  their  independence  of  corruption,  and 
place-mongering  for  themselves  and  their  sons,  without  which  a  House 
of  Peers  must  become  a  public  peril.  Let  our  next  Parliament  bestir 
itself  in  the  matter,  and  make  us  at  last  proud  of  our  Legislature  ! 

Among  the  overflow  of  Family  Libraries,  &c.,  we  have  been  struck 
peculiarly  with  one  set  of  volumes,  which  contains  more  knowledge 
of  life,  more  interesting  anecdote,  and  more  actual  history,  than  three- 
fourths  of  the  heap.  We  speak  of  the  collection  of  "  Auto-Biographies/' 
now  amounting  to  about  thirty  very  convenient  boudoir  volumes,  pub- 
lished by  Whittaker.  It  proposes  to  contain  every  memoir  to  be  found  in 
the  modern  languages,  in  which  the  writer  has  been  his  own  historian. 
We  thus  have  Gibbon,  Kotzebue,  Voltaire,  Hume,  Gilford,  Creichton, 
Prince  Eugene,  Ferguson,  Whitefield,  and  a  whole  host  of  others ; 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  463 

all  curious,  all  eccentric,  and  what  is  more  important,  all  true.  We 
have  been  more  interested  by  the  work  than  by  any  biographical 
collection  we  have  ever  seen. 

We  give  the  following  specimen  of  politics  in  poetry,  on  a  Shut-up 
Country  Church,  from  a  country  paper,  whose  correspondent  recom- 
mends its  insertion,  as  a  specimen  of  "  native  talent/'  and  calls  upon  all 
the  friends  of  British  genius  to  propagate  its  fame,  "  in  the  hope  of 
exciting  other  bards  to  rivalry."  The  lines,  we  admit,  are  of  different 
lengths ;  but  much  must  be  allowed  for  genius,  and  it  will  be  found 
that  the  long  and  the  short  are  equally  charming. 

The  Deserted  Church. 

Neither  Parson,  Clerk,  Sexton,  is  here  to  be  found 
The  Church  quit  neglected,  while  1  till  my  ground, 
one  fourth  of  my  produce,  deducting1  Expences 
Is  paid  to  the  Parson,  Heaven  save  all  our  senses. 
Is  not  this  tiranicle.  I  ask  you  by  passers 
From  the  other  three  forths.  I  pay  Rent  and  Taxes 
The  Church  being  shut  up.  and  our  Prayers  neglected 
No  Tithe  for  no  Duty  is  what.  I  reasonably  expected 
But  reason  says  the  Parson,  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  Claim 
I  insist  on  my  Tithes,  if  nothing  you  gain. 
I  will  be  Lord  of  this  Parish,  and  if  I  cant  have  my  way 
I  will  take  up  my  Tithes,  without  further  delay. 
I  will  stop  the  repairs  of  the  Church,  and  oppose  all  the  People 
I  will  take  off  the  roof,  and  if  posihle  the  Steeple, 
Altho  Times  are  so  bad,  I  will  load  you  with  Expences 
No  reduction  in  my  tithes,  because  of  offences 
The  tithes  of  the  Clergy,  is  the  cause  of  much  derision 
And  a  Subject  of  course,  that  stands  in  need  of  revision. 
The  sistum  is  bad.  the  emolument  too  much. 
I  call  forth  the  attention,  of  all  that  think  such 
To  remedy  the  evile.  it  is  my  opinion 
Somthing  should  be  said,  about  a  begining 
By  calling  a  County  Meeting,  a  Petition  to  send 
To  Parliment  praying,  the  Tithe  Laws  to  mend. 

If  some  Gentlemen  of  Independence,  would  step  forward  in  this  Cause 
They  would  have  the  support  of  the  County,  and  meet  great  applause. 

At  the  Annual  General  Meeting  of  the  West  India  body,  at  the  City 
of  London  Tavern,  in  August,  a  Report  of  great  interest  was  read. 
We  have  not  now  further  space  than  to  say,  that  in  a  very  temperate, 
but  very  decided  manner,  it  announced  the  hopelessness  of  getting  any 
thing  like  good  out  of  the  brains  of  the  present  sages  of  Downing- 
street.  All  their  proposals  for  relieving  the  pressures  of  this  greatest  of 
all  our  commercial  interests,  have  been  met  by  civil  speeches,  promises 
of  relief,  and  practical  negation  of  every  thing  in  the  shape  of  relief. 
But  what  can  be  expected  from  the  best  of  Quarter-Masters,  and  the 
most  stubborn,  and  puzzled  of  Chancellors  of  the  Exchequer  ? 

The  results  of  this  puzzledom  will  be  practical,  however.  The  West 
Indians  will  not  suffer  themselves  to  be  bankrupt  for  the  blunders  of 
any  one.  Some  of  them  are  already  speculating  on  a  safer  outlay  of  their 
property  in  America ;  to  which,  when  half-a-dozen  planters  are  once 
fairly  removed,  as  many  hundreds,  who  now  merely  wait  to  see  the  result 
of  the  experiment,  will  instantly  follow.  The  project  of  cultivating  East 
India  sugar,  to  the  prejudice  of  West  India  interests,  will  not  be  suffered 


464  Notes  of  the  Month  on  Affairs  in  General  [OcT. 

in  silence ;  the  nonsense  of  meddling  with  the  slaves  will  be  equally 
felt,  and  the  consequences  may  be  of  a  much  deeper  class  than  the  craft 
of  all  the  quarter-masters  general,  and  the  calculations  of  the  Cabinet 
of  Clerks,  may  be  able  to  cure.  If  America  should  take  it  into  her 
head  to  pay  her  debts,  as  usual,  by  breaking  out  with  a  declaration  of 
war,  we  then  may  have  fruits  of  our  legislation  in  the  West  Indies, 
palpable  enough  to  catch  the  eyes  even  of  a  Cabinet  with  Mr.  Goulburn 
for  its  financier. 

"  Bronze  Colossal  Elephant :  Paris. — The  enormous  bronze  elephant, 
which  wras  originally  intended  to  be  placed  as  a  fountain  on  the  site  of 
the  Bastile  in  Paris,  is  at  last,  it  seems,  to  be  fixed  on  a  pedestal,  in  a 
vacant  space  in  the  Champs  Eli/sees  ;  M.  A.  Malavoine,  the  architect, 
having  obtained  from  the  city  of  Paris  for  eighty  years,  the  grant  of 
the  land  in  question,  without  rent,  on  condition  of  its  reverting  with  the 
statue  to  the  city,  so  as  to  become  a  national  monument.  The  pedestal 
will  be  about  50  feet  in  height,  and  the  castle  on  the  back  of  the  ele- 
phant will  be  at  an  elevation  of  100  feet  from  the  ground.  Staircases  to 
ascend  to  the  castle  will  be  made  in  the  legs  of  the  elephant,  and  the  body 
will  be  fitted  up  elegantly  as  a  saloon :  persons  entering  the  elephant  to 
pay  one  franc  for  each  admission.  From  this  fee  the  architect  expects 
to  derive  a  large  income." 

Every  city  must  have  its  Elephant,  and  ours  is  to  be  a  colossal  cemetery. 
For  this,  three  plans  are  already  before  the  public,  and  if  the  public 
please,  it  may  have  twenty.  But  we  are  not  yet  French  enough  to 
relish  a  Pere  la  Chaise — "weeping  seats,"  and  artificial  garlands  for 
tombs,  are  not  to  be  the  English  taste.  We  shall  never  be  refined  enough 
to  turn  a  church-yard  into  a  display  of  weekly  sentimentality ;  and  pro- 
menade among  tne  graves  of  those  whom  we  loved  and  lament,  with 
our  white  handkerchiefs  to  our  eyes  for  the  benefit  of  the  lookers  on, 
and  a  quadrille  step  for  the  display  of  our  own  graces.  The  cemetery 
plans  are  uniformly  unsuitable  to  the  habits  and  the  feelings  of  this 
country.  They  are  besides  extravagantly  expensive,  in  a  matter  al- 
ready loaded  with  expense  ;  and  they  will  be  and  ought  to  be  resisted 
by  every  man  who  thinks  that  the  place  of  the  dead  ought  to  be  one  of 
silence,  sacredness,  and  solitude. 

A  clever  pamphlet,  "  What  has  the  Ministry  gained  by  the  Elec- 
tions ?"  is  laying  on  our  table.  We  have  not  room  to  take  any  further 
notice  of  it,  than  by  saying  that  the  writer's  views  are  just,  his  infor- 
mation is  accurate  enough,  and  his  style  pleasant,  and  often  forcible. 

If  this  be  enough,  we  fully  recommend  it  to  our  readers. 


1830.]  [    465     ] 

MONTHLY  REVIEW  Of1  LITERATURE,  DOMESTIC  AND  FOREIGN. 


De  L'Orme,  3  vols.  12mo.,  by  the  Author 
of  Darnley,  &c.  This  is  a  manly  and 
masterly  production,  skilfully  conceived, 
and  executed  with  more  than  the  writer's 
usual  spirit,  and  shews  him  familiar  with 
the  scenes  and  times  and  characters  he 
describes.  He  has  taken  a  just  measure 
of  the  style  and  taste  in  which  the  intel- 
ligence of  the  day  requires  such  matters 
to  be  handled.  His  outlines  are  clear 
and  definite,  and  the  fillings  up  not 
over-crowded ;  he  is  not  circumstantial 
enough  to  be  perplexing,  nor  is  his  pro- 
pensity to  dialoguing  indulged  to  bab- 
bling— all  tends  closely  and  directly  to 
the  point  before  him,  and  every  line — 
and  this  is  a  distinguishing  quality — may 
be  read. 

The  story  is  auto-biographical.  The 
hero  is  a  Bearnois,  and  the  son  of  a 
seigneur  of  the  province,  a  noble  of  dimi- 
nished rights,  but  undiminished  preten- 
sions. The  youth  is  a  little  ardent  in  tem- 
perament, and  precipitate  in  conduct — • 
secluded  from  society,  but  panting  for 
sensation,  and  not  finding  opportuni- 
ties for  action,  speedily  makes  them. 
His  adventures  begin  early.  Returning 
from  the  college  at  Pau,  he  gets  into  a 
tilting  match  with  a  certain  marquis,  no- 
torious for  not  sticking  about  the  means 
of  gratifying  his  passions : — in  particular, 
he  was  said  to  have  killed  the  Count 
d'Bagnoles  and  got  possession  of  his  es- 
tates. Nobody  doubted  he  would  take 
his  revenge;  and  a  neighbour,  about 
whom  there  was  a  good  deal  of  mystery, 
urged  upon  his  parents  the  prudence  of 
removing  him  out  of  the  way  for  a  time, 
and  being  himself  on  the  point  of  start- 
ing for  Saragossa,  takes  him  under  his 
own  win^.  At  Saragossa  he  quickly  gets 
into  a  singular  scrape,  and  loses  the 
friendship  of  his  protector  by  a  little 
misunderstanding  arising  out  of  the  said 
scrape.  Compelled  to  quit  Saragossa,  and 
finding  also  the  apprehended  storm  blown 
over,  he  ventures  home  again.  While 
idling  there — his  mother  meanwhile  so- 
liciting a  commission  from  the  Count 
de  Soissons  —  he  falls  in  love  with  a  beau- 
tiful girl,  his  mother's  protegee,  and 
while  in  the  act  of  expressing  his  admi- 
ration, is  suddenly  pounced  upon  by  her 
brother,  and  forced  to  fire  in  his  own  de- 
fence. Thinking  he  had  killed  the  lad, 
absconding  becomes  imperative  ;  and  he 
luckily  falls  in  with  the  chief  of  a  band 
of  smugglers,  and  accompanies  the  party 
across  the  Pyrenees.  Approaching  Le- 
rida,  he  separates  from  his  conductor, 
who  was  going  to  Lorida  with  a  resolu- 
tion to  rescue  an  imprisoned  comrade, 
and  turns  off  towards  Barcelona — mean- 
ing to  get  to  Paris,  solicit  his  pardon,  and 
M.M.  New  Series VOL.  X.  No.  58. 


pay  his  respects,  on  the  strength  of  his 
mother's  communication,  to  the  Count 
de  Soissons.  Before,  however,  he  reaches 
Barcelona,  he  gets  involved  in  the  sud- 
den rebellion  of  the  Catalonians — escapes 
through  the  influence  of  his  friend  the 
smuggler,  who  proves  to  be  one  of  the 
rebel  chiefs — is  taken  for  an  agent  of 
Richelieu's,  and,  finally,  to  his  great  de- 
light, is  commissioned  to  carry  des- 
patches to  the  cardinal.  No  time  is  lost 
in  obtaining  an  interview ;  and  a  long 
conversation  follows,  not  about  the  Cata- 
lonian  rebels,  but,  such  was  the  cardinal's 
taste,  about  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  and 
he  is  dismissed  with  an  assurance  that  he 
would  shortly  hear  from  him.  Weeks, 
however,  pass  away  without  any  notice, 
when  he  is  visited  by  De  Retz,  then 
young,  but  already  a  busy  plotter,  who, 
as  he  knew  every  body's  affairs,  also 
knows  all  about  De  L'Orme's.  After  a 
little  characteristic  manoeuvring  on  the 
part  of  De  Retz,  De  L'Orme  is  finally 
engaged  to  join  the  Count  de  Soissons  at 
Sedan — who  was  then  collecting  forces 
to  oppose,  in  open  conflict,  the  cardinal ; 
and  the  whole,  down  to  the  battle  of 
Marfee,  in  which  the  Count  was  killed, 
is  well  and  distinctly  told.  De  L'Orme 
falls  into  the  hands  of  Richelieu,  is  recog- 
nized, and  death  seems  inevitable.  He 
is,  however,  rescued  by  his  old  friend  of 
the  Pyrenees,  who  had  before  reappeared 
on  several  critical  occasions,  and  now 
turns  out  to  be  a  man  of  importance — 
the  Comte  de  Bagnols,  in  short,  and 
father  of  De  L'Orme's  mother's  beau- 
tiful protegee.  He  has  also  the  good  for- 
tune to  serve  his  noble  friend  in  return 
— he  again  encounters  the  revengeful 
marquis— fights  with  and  kills  him',  and 
recovers  important  papers  which  ena- 
ble De  Bagnols  to  recover  his  estates, 
Throughout  there  is  an  air  of  life  and 
reality,  and  fehe  scenes  where  historical 
characters  figure,  are  exhibited  in  ex- 
cellent taste.  The  author  has  chosen 
well :  his  materials  have  the  freshness  of 
novelty  in  them. 

Lord  Byron's  Cain,  with  Notes,  <|-<?., 
by  Harding  Grant,  Author  of  "  Chancery 
Practice.'''' — There  is  no  readily  charac- 
terizing this  singular  work— so  entirely 
out  of  the  common  beat  is  it  of  any 
thing  we  have  ever  met  with.  It  is  a 
kind  of  running  commentary  upon  Lord 
Byron's '"  Cain" — the  author  taking  the 
piece  not  as  a  drama,  the  literary  pro- 
duction of  Lord  Byron,  but  as  the  actual 
dialogue  of  real  personages,  whose  senti- 
ments he  sifts  and  discusses  and  "  values,'* 
sedulously  avoiding  involving  Lord  By- 
ron in  the  participation  of  certain  offen- 

3  N 


466 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[OCT. 


sive  sentiments,  and  even  charitably  giv- 
ing him  credit  for  others  of  an  opposite 
character.  The  writer's  acquaintance 
with  theological  topics,  and  theological 
discussion  is  obvious  ;  and  he  handles 
his  logical  tools  with  skill  and  address. 
He  is  thoroughly  orthodox,  but  also 
thoroughly  good-humoured,  and  willing 
to  give  the  devil  himself  his  due.  With 
those  who  really  think  there  is  any 
offence  in  "  Cain," — beyond,  we  mean, 
what  the  world  is  used  to  in  Milton, 
for  instance,  and  scores  of  other  exhibi- 
tions of  "  evil"  -  the  tone  of  the  volume 
before  us  will  be  most  convincing  and 
consolatory.  The  bane  and  antidote  are 
both  before  us : — the  evil,  if  evil  there  be, 
is  neutralized  ;  and  the  good,  too,  some 
will  perhaps  add. 

The  Barony,  3  vols.  \2rno.,  by  Miss 
M.  A.  Porter — If  it  were  not  for  its 
appalling  length,  we  should  say  Miss 
Porter's  new  novel  was  at  once  respect- 
able and  readable  ;  but  her  three  vo- 
lumes are  equal  to  any  body  else's  six. 
Would  we  could  have  whispered  in  her 
Tear,  compress,  when  she  was  indulging 
in  the  fatal  act  of  expanding.  Miss  Por- 
ter writes,  as  she  wrote  twenty  years 
ago,  when  domestic  details  and  young 
ladies'  dialogues  were  borne  with  to  an 
extent  that  never  can  again  be  tolerated. 
Rapidity  of  narrative  must  now  be  pur- 
sued by  all  who  wish  to  catch  the  tone 
and  can  measure  the  wants  of  the  times 
— sketchings,  rather  than  finishings,  are 
in  request.  Intricacy  and  entangling  and 
Flemish-painting  no  longer  tell: — mo- 
dern readers  require  little  more  than 
hints  ;  while  Miss  Porter  seems  more 
than  half-inclined  to  bring  them  back 
to  the  profound  prolixities  of  the  re- 
morseless Richardson.  The  "  Barony  " 
will,  however,  still  find  readers,  though 
chiefly  among  the  lingerers  of  the  old 
school.  Her  characters  are,  some  of 
them,  vigorously  conceived— especially 
the  old,  unbendable  knight,  and  one  of 
the  young  ladies,  whose  vivacity  agree- 
ably relieves  the  eternal  whining  of  her 
friend. 

Miss  Porter's  scene  is  laid  in  Corn- 
wall in  the  days  of  Charles  the  Second 
and  those  of  his  Jesuit  brother  ;  and  the 
subject  springs  from  the  contentions  of 
two  neighbouring  families,  each  claim- 
ing aji  ancient  barony  by  descent.  The 
original  right  mounts  upwards  two  or 
three  centuries  to  a  maternal  ancestor, 
one  only  of  whose  two  daughters  was 
legitimate,  and  the  question,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  specific  documents  was,  which 
of  the  competitors  was  the  legitimate  de- 
scendant. One,  of  course,  fails  ;  and  he 
unluckily  was  the  one  who  piqued  him- 
self most  upon  family  purity.  He  gained 
nothing  but  an  annoying  blot  upon  his 
scutcheon  ;  and,  withdrawing  from  all 


intercourse  with  his  triumphant  neigh- 
bour, spent  his  days  in  poring  over  musty 
records,  in  the  fond  hope  of  still  esta- 
blishing his  claim.  He  has  a  son  and 
daughter,  and  his  competitor  also  has 
family  connections  ;  but  the  young  peo- 
ple do  not,  as  usual  in  similar  circum- 
stances, perversely  fall  in  love  with  each 
other — though  an  intimacy,  some  how  or 
other  generated  between  the  females, 
proves  equally  vexatious.  The  old  mor- 
tified knight  is  a  zealous  royalist,  while 
the  son,  left  very  much  to  himself,  with 
none  of  the  ad  vantages  arising  from  pub- 
lic education,  and  intercourse  with  those 
of  his  own  class,  entertains  divers  odd 
notions,  and  at  last  stiffens  into  a  poli- 
tical protestant,  and  mingles  with  the 
party  who  attempt  to  exclude  James 
from  the  succession,  to  the  great  horror 
of  the  old  gentleman.  While  he  is  from 
home,  a  cousin,  a  very  crafty  fellow,  con- 
trives to  give  all  his  actions  an  unfavour- 
able twist  to  the  father ;  and  successively 
represents  him  as  assisting  Argyle  in  his 
escape — as  refusing  to  attend  the  coro- 
nation, and  assert  the  family  claim  to  a 
silver  spur— as  joining  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth  in  the  west ;  and,  to  crown  the 
climax  of  delinquency,  as  marrying  the 
bastard  daughter  of  the  bastard  duke. 
These  are  all  crimes  of  the  first  magni- 
tude, and  nothing  but  an  act  of  disheri- 
tage  can  soothe  the  paternal  indignation. 
The  daughter,  advocating  her  brother's 
interests,  is  treated  with  harshness,  till 
at  last  she  and  her  friend  of  the  hostile 
family,  make  sundry  discoveries  of  the 
cousin's  treachery  ;  and  volumes  (of  the 
common  size)  are  occupied  in  unravel- 
ling the  complexities  of  his  scheming 
career,  as  volumes  had  been  in  weaving 
them.  The  scoundrel  is  thoroughly  ex- 
posed, and  comes  to  a  violent  end;  and 
the  noble  youth,  against  whom  he  had 
practised,  emerges  from  the  clouds  that 
had  so  long  obscured  him.  All  termi- 
nates happily,  and  even  the  old  knight's 
claim  to  the  contested  barony  is  made 
as  clear  as  the  day  by  a  malicious  disco- 
very on  the  part  of  his  competitors'  sis- 
ter, who  had  been  resisted  in  some  favo- 
rite object,  and  thus  amiably  wreaked 
her  revenge. 

Memoir,  written  by  General  Sir  Hew 
Dalrymple,  Bart.,  of  his  Proceedings  as 
connected  with  tlie  Affairs  of  Spain,  and 
the  Commencement  of  the  Peninsular  War. 
— Never  was  man  more  abruptly  and 
roughly  judged  than  poor  Sir  Hew  Dal- 
rymple — upon  a  mere  rumour  of  the 
convention,  by  which  Junot  and  the 
French  troops  were  to  be  conveyed  to 
France,  the  ministers  condemned  him, 
and  encouraged  the  ignorant  clamour  of 
the  public  press.  General  Wellesley's 
troops  changed  their  commander  three 
times  in  four  and  twenty  hours.  Sir 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


407 


Harry  Burrard  joined  them  while  the 
battle  of  Vimiera  was  fighting,  and  Sir 
Hew  Dalrymple  a  few  hours  after.  Lord 
Castlereagh,  in  communicating  the  event 
of  the  battle,  invidiously  with  respect 
to  Sir  Hew  Dalrymple,  applauded  the 
generosity  of  Sir  Harry  Burrard  for  de- 
clining to  take  the  immediate  command, 
when,  in  fact,  he  did  not  decline.  The 
convention  was  reported  to  have  been 
concluded  against  the  consent  and  even 
remonstrance  of  General  Wellesley, 
when,  in  fact,  he  recommended  it,  and 
his  opinion  it  was,  as  of  one  possessed  of 
the  fullest  information,  that  was  defer- 
red to.  Admiral  Sir  Charles  Cotton  was 
commended  for  opposing  what,  in  fact, 
was  adopted  partly  on  his  very  sugges- 
tion ;  and,  finally,  the  king's  ministers, 
in  the  king's  name,  announced  to  Sir 
Hew  a  severe  censure,  though  the  Court 
of  Inquiry  approved  of  his  conduct. 

The  truth  seems  to  be,  Sir  Hew, 
coming  upon  the  field  after  the  battle 
had  been  fought,  and  a  stranger  to  the 
scene  of  action,  was  driven,  perhaps,  to 
the  extremities  of  caution.  Decision  is 
naturally  looked  for  in  a  commander-in- 
chief,  and  under  common  circumstances 
there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  he  would 
have  been  deficient  in  this  respect ;  but 
peculiarly  situated  as  he  plainly  was, 
the  risk  of  presumption  and  precipita- 
tion was  to  be  carefully  guarded  against. 
The  mistake  was  in  taking  too  many 
advisers— he  should  have  been  content 
with  General  Wellesley,  who  of  neces- 
sity was  in  the  best  condition  to  advise  ; 
nor  should  he  have  lost  time  in  seeking 
the  sanction  of  Admiral  Cotton,  \vho 
surely  had  no  co-ordinate  authority. 

But  the  act  for  which  Sir  Hew  blames 
himself,  and  which  was  the  source  of  all 
the  mischief,  was  his  communicating  to 
Friere,  the  Portuguese  general,  a  copy 
of  the  provisional  agreement  —  which 
agreement,  together  with  a  commentary 
founded  on  some  articles  which  were  not 
finally  confirmed,  and  others  which  were 
not  even  included  in  the  provisional 
agreement,  were  despatched  in  haste  to 
the  Portuguese  ambassador  in  London, 
and  by  him  communicated  to  Downing- 
street,  before  the  conclusive  convention 
reached  the  government.  Upon  this 
perhaps  treacherous  communication,  the 
government  hastily  gave  expression  to 
their  disapprobation,  and  excited  a  cry 
against  the  unhappy  commander  as  pre- 
cipitate as  it  was  cruel. 

Sir  Hew  has  written  a  calm  and  clear 
narrative  of  his  whole  conduct,  which  at 
once  exculpates  himself  from  any  se- 
rious error,  and  throws  back  upon  the 
vacillations  and  divisions  of  the  ministry, 
where  they  justly  belong,  the  sources 
of  whatever  blun'ders  were  committed. 
Lord  Castlereagh  and  Mr.  Canning 
could  not  draw  together,  and  acted 


without  consulting  each  other.  They 
deserved  impeachment  if  ever  men  did, 
both  of  them.  The  narrative  was  drawn 
up  by  the  calumniated  general  as  a  fa- 
mily record,  but  destined  by  him  at  last 
to  be  printed  in  consequence  of  Lord 
Londonderry's  book,  in  which  he  is 
treated  with  great  negligence,  not  to- 
say  cavalierly,  and  with  deficiencies  of 
information,  not  very  creditable  to  one 
who  was  at  the  time,  officially,  as  under 
secretary  of  state,  in  correspondence 
with  him.  Sir  Hew  died  before  he  car- 
ried his  purpose  of  printing  into  effect, 
and  the  narrative  is  now  published  by 
his  son. 

The  Death  of  Ugolino,  a  Tragedy,  by 
George    William  Feather stonhaugh,   JEsq-.^ 
of  Philadelphia. — 'The   horrible   subject 
of  this  tragedy  is  the  death  of  Ugolino 
by  raging  hunger;  but  the  starvation- 
scene  could  not  of  course  be  protracted 
to  any  considerable  length  ;  and  the  body 
of  the  piece  is  occupied  by  what  imme- 
diately led  to  Ruggieri's  act  of  diaboli- 
cal revenge.     The  archbishop  was  at  the 
head  of  the  government.     Ten  thousand 
Pisans  were  still  prisoners  at   Genoa, 
and  an  embassy  had  recently  been  des- 
patched to  treat  for  their  ransom,  and 
the  expences  of  their  maintenance  for 
four  years.     Ostensibly  the  archbishop 
had  concurred  in  the  sending  of  this  em- 
bassy,   but  privately  he    set  his    own 
agents  at  work  to  throw  impediments  in 
the  way  of  the  treaty — for  he  had  no* 
desire  to  see  these  ten  thousand  citizens 
return,   who   were  all  of  the   opposite 
faction.     His  efforts,  however,  were  not 
so  successful  as  he  had  hoped  for ;  and 
hearing,  in  the  meanwhile,  that  a  new 
governor,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Em- 
peror,  was   coming,   he  grew    alarmed. 
He  wanted  money — his  old  enemy  Ugo- 
lino  was   still   in    prison  — he  re'solved, 
therefore,  to  offer  him  liberty  in  ex- 
change for  his  "•  gold,"   meaning,  after 
getting  his  gold,  to  sacrifice  him  stilh 
His  thirst  for  revenge  was  as  insatiable 
as  that  for  gold — Ugolino  had  murdered 
his  son.     Ugolino,  however,  spurns  the 
condition,   and  the  Archbishop   throwa 
the  keys  of  his  dungeon  into  the  river, 
and  leaves  him  and  his  children  to  pe- 
rish.     Some  days  elapse  and  the  chil- 
dren die,  when  "the  Archbishop's  oppo- 
nents get  the  mastery,  and  Ugolino  is 
drawn  up  from  the  dungeon,  only,  how- 
ever, to  breathe  his  last  dying  words. 

The  tragedy  is  the  production  of  Mr. 
Featherstonhaugh,  of  Philadelphia,  writ- 
ten in  the  vain  hope  of  recalling  some  of 
the  long-lost  admiration  for  the  higher 
branches  of  the  drama.  "  The  stage 
here,"  he  observes,  in  a  private  commu- 
nication, "  is  at  the  lowest  ebb,  and  offers 
nothing  but  a  re-chauffer  of  the  back- 
nied  horrors  of  the  too-tragical  millers, 

3N2 


468 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[OcT. 


farmers,  shoemakers,  &c.  that  the  Eng- 
lish borrow  from  their  melo-dramatic 
neighbours  the  French."  Mr.  Feather- 
stonhaugh's  performance  must  of  course 
be  regarded  as  a  poem,  and  we  have  no 
space  for  close  examination.  There  is 
a  good  deal  of  vigour  in  some  of  the 
scenes ;  but  the  attention  is  too  much 
engaged  at  the  beginning  with  a  busi- 
ness which  does  not  strictly  connect  with 
the  end — with  what  the  author  proposes 
as  the  main  object  of  interest.  The  plot 
has  nothing  to  do  with  Ugolino's  death. 
We  quote  a  few  lines — a  fair  specimen. 

Ugolino,  looking  at  his  children  and 
clasping  his  hands — 

God! 

Are  thy  just  eyes  then  turned  awnyfrorn  us 
Or,  in  the  depths  of  thine  own  counsel,  thus 
Dost  preparation  make  for  some  great  good, 
Beyond  the  scope  and  vU'W  of  our  weak  minds? 
I  dare  not  speak  to  them  !  'tis  the  fourth  day 
Since  we  have  looki'd  on  food.    All  hope  is  fled. 
Excuse  and  consolation— all  alike 
Exhausted.    One  short  word  can  comprehend 
All  that  the  tyrant  priest  will  send  us  now— 
And  that  isdeath— death,  that  I've  looked  upon 
Too  oft  perhaps,  and  dealt  too  largely  in— 
With  him,  too — and  the  turn  is  come,  when  he 
And  fate  may  think  to  square  accounts  with  me. 
But  here  I  die  ten  thousand  deaths  each  day. 
There's  not  a  pang  of  these  dear  innocents, 
But  stretches  roe  upon  the  rack.    My  soul, 
And  bolytoo,  are  tortured  by  this  fiend. 
Tiiis  is  not  retribution. — Oh,  my  God, 
Let  fall  thy  wrath  on  me,  but  spare  my  babes! 
I  am  not  heard  I    Famine  alone  reigns  here. 
1  am  grown  hoarse  with  bellowing  aloud 
For  help.    I  am  forsaken — God  and  man 
Have  barred  the  doors  of  mercy  on  me.    What! 
Shall  this  most  foul,  most  horrible  of  deaths 
Pass,  without  gracing  of  a  dear  revenge  ? 
Thou  monstrous,  murderous  priest! 

[Gnaws  his  hand  in  rage.    Children  run 

to  him, 
ANSELMUCCIO. 

Oh,  father  dear, 

I  pray  thee  do  not  this — thou  clothedst  us 
With  this  most  miserable  flesh — and  now 
Do  thou,  to  stay  thy  hunger,  eat  of  this. 

[Averts  his  he  ad,  and  offers  his  arm. 

Family  Library,  Vol.  XV.  History  of 
British  India, — Though  entitled  a  His- 
tory of  the  British  Empire  in  India,  the 
greater  part  of  this  first  volume  is  oc- 
cupied with  the  general  history  of  the 
country  from  the  earliest  historical  no- 
tices to  the  death  of  Shah  Aulum  in 
1788-  The  Hindoos  themselves-  were 
not  the  autochthones  of  the  country, 
for  though  occupying  the  upper  regions 
of  India — north  of  the  Nurbudda,  that 
is — fiom  periods  antecedent  to  all  re- 
cords, and  almost  all  tradition,  they  did 
not  penetrate  beyond  that  river  till 
about  the  second  century  before  Christ, 
and  vast  regions  in  the  Deccan  were 
never  at  all  occupied  by  them.  There, 
among  the  fastnesses  of  Gandwana,  there 
still  exist  barbarous  tribes,  the  relics,  if 


not  the  aboriginal  inhabitants,  at  least 
of  such  as  preceded  the  Hindoos.  They 
have  no  institution  of  castes — they  wor- 
ship tutelary  deities  unknown  among 
the  people  of  the  plains — they  do  not 
regard  the  cow  as  sacred,  nor  follow  any 
acknowledged  Hindoo  customs  —  while 
both  complexion  and  features,  at  the 
same  time,  point  them  out  as  a  race  dis- 
tinct from  both  Hindoos  and  Mussul- 
mans. The  Hindoos  themselves,  come 
from  where  they  may — though  every 
thing  points  to  the  north  and  north- 
west— were  early  broken  in  upon  from 
those  quarters  by  Scythians,  who  brought 
with  them  similar  religious  tenets  and 
practices,  so  much  so,  as  to  go  far  to 
show  Hindoos  and  Scythians  were  scions 
of  a  common  stock. 

The  invasion  of  Darius  reached  to  a 
small  extent,  and  the  more  sweeping 
irruptions  of  Alexander  and  Seleucus 
were  transient,  and  left  no  lasting  im- 
pressions. Nor  were  the  Hindoos  per-i 
manently  disturbed  by  foreigners  till 
about  the  close  of  the  tenth  centurv. 
Then  it  was  that  the  Turkish  slave, 
Subuctagec,  in  the  spirit  of  the  early 
Mahometan  conquerors,  turned  his  arms 
against  the  worshippers  of  Brahma,  and 
paved  the  way  for  his  successors.  His 
son  Mahmood  swept  over  the  greater 
part  of  Hindostan,  the  region,  that  is, 
bounded  by  the  Bahramputra  on  the 
east,  and  the  Nurbudda  on  the  south  ; 
and  his  successors,  designated  as  the 
Ghiznivides,  established  their  power  for 
nearly  two  centuries.  About  another 
century  the  dynasty  of  the  Ghoors  pre- 
vailed, in  whose  days  burst  in,  in  suc- 
cessive, but  merely  predatory  irruptions, 
the  Moguls,  under  the  successors  of 
Ghengis  Khan.  The  Ghoors  were  fol- 
lowed by  the  Afgauns,  the  first  Maho- 
metan chiefs  who  crossed  the  Nurbudda. 
With  fresh  bodies  of  Moguls,  Timour 
(or  Tamerlane)  spread  his  devastations 
over  India,  at  the  end  of  the  fourteenth 
century;  but  it  was  not  till  the  early 
part  of  the  sixteenth  century  that  his 
descendant,  Babar  (the  tiger),  confirmed 
the  permanent  reign  of  the  Moguls. 

But  though  finally  the  Mahometan 
powers  poured  over  the  whole  of  India 
-  excepting  particular  districts  which 
were  never  subdued  by  Hindoo  or  Mo- 
gul— they  appear  to  have  interfered  but 
little  with  the  political  arrangements  of 
the  Hindoos.  The  village  system  — the 
characteristic  of  Hindoo  government — 
traceable  through  every  division  of  so- 
ciety up  to  the  supreme  authorities, 
seems,  in  all  essential  points,  to  have 
been  recognized  as  effective,  and  pro- 
tected accordingly.  We  English  have 
blundered  miserably  in  this  matter,  and 
have  actually  governed  by  the  Koran, 
where  Mahometans  themselves  never 
thought  of  enforcing  its  authority. 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


469 


Mr.  Gleig  has  examined  his  subject 
as  far  as  books — Mills's  excellent  history 
especially  —  enabled  him,  thoroughly  ; 
and  he  is  perhaps  better  acquainted  with 
the  story  and  manners  of  the  country 
than  many  who  have  lived  longest  among 
the  people,  and  studied  the  subject  on 
the  spot.  Nevertheless  the  story  might 
be  better,  because  it  might  be  more  dis- 
tinctly, told — with  less  appearance  of 
confusion ;  but,  in  truth,  so  complicated, 
so  extensive,  and  so  varied  is  the  sub- 
ject, that  it  cannot  easily  be  grasped;; 
and  epitomes  of  this  kind,  for  it  is  no 
more,  require  more  previous  knowledge 
than  is  at  present  possessed  by  the 
readers  into  whose  hands  the  Family 
Library  will  chiefly  fall.  It  will,  at  all 
events,  initiate  numbers,  who  have  hi- 
therto never  turned  to  the  subject.  The 
detached  sketch  of  the  Mahrattah  his- 
tory is  perhaps  the  best  portion  of  the 
volume  ;  but  the  introductory  part  also, 
relative  to  the  form  of  Hindoo  govern- 
ment and  their  civil  institutes,  is  drawn 
up  with  care  and  competent  knowledge. 

Derwentwater,  -a  Tale  of  1715.  2  vols. 
12mo. — The  historical  point  of  the  story 
is  the  rebellion  of  1715,  so  far  as  the 
county  of  Northumberland  was  con- 
cerned ;  and  the  writer,  evidently  ac- 
quainted with  the  county,  as  to  its  sur- 
face, scenery,  and  family  history,  has 
executed  his  purpose  in  good  taste,  and 
in  a  manner  calculated  to  illustrate  the 
subject,  and  stamp  more  distinct  "im- 
pressions on  the  reader  than  any  general 
history  can  do. 

Lord  Derwentwater  is  the  hero  of  the 
rebel  party — not  of  the  novel.  That  is 
a  young  gentleman,  the  only  son  of  a 
whig  baronet  of  the  county,  who  acci- 
dentally meets  with  a  charming  girl,  the 
daughter  of  a  tory  country  squire,  of 
the  same  county  too.  The  young  gen- 
tleman has  a  maternal  uncle,  also  a  tory, 
and  just  about  the  time  when  reports  of 
an  approaching  rebellion  were  whispered 
about,  he  pays  this  uncle  a  visit,  solely 
in  the  hope  of  encountering  the  lovely 
girl,  with  whose  father  his  uncle,  he 
knows,  is  well  acquainted,  and  lives  in 
his  neighbourhood.  By  this  uncle,  a 
stupid  and  imbecile  sort  of  a  country 
gentleman,  he  is  taken  to  Lord  Der- 
wentwater's —  the  very  head- quarters 
of  the  Jacobites — where  he  comes  plump 
upon  a  large  party  of  tories  assembled 
to  discuss  ana  consolidate  their  plans 
over  a  sumptuous  dinner.  Here,  how- 
ever, with  the  Countess,  he  encounters 
the  beautiful  girl  he  is  in  pursuit  of,  who 
is  herself  an  enthusiastic  little  jacobite,but 
fails  of  entrapping  her  admirer  to  enrol 
himself  among  the  partizans  of  James 
the  Third.  His  presence  at  the  dinner, 
of  course,  known  as  he  is  to  be  the  son 
of  a  most  envenomed  whig,  surprises 


the  party,  and  exasperates  some,  but  he 
escapes  without  incurring  any  personal 
offence.  Circumstances,  however,  speedi- 
ly occur,  which  throw  a  suspicion  of 
treachery  upon  the  youth,  and  give  him 
the  air  of  having  acted  as  a  spy  upoa 
their  proceedings ;  and  on  the  very 
morning  on  which  the  party  first  as*- 
sumed  a  hostile  appearance,  falling  acci* 
dentally  in  their  way,  he  is  arrested  and 
detained,  though  treated  with  kindness 
by  Lord  Derwentwater,  who  is  pre- 
possessed in  his  favour,  and  discredits 
the  general  suspicions  against  him.  After 
a  detention  of  a  few  days  he  is  released, 
and  the  better  to  approve  his  loyalty  to 
the  Brunswicks,  he  joins  Carpenter's 
army  as  a  volunteer,  and  at  the  surreni 
der  of  Preston,  has  the  good  fortune  to 
assist  the  escape  of  his  charmer's  papa — 
loyalty  giving  way,  as  usual,  to  the  in- 
terests of  his  affection. 

Speeding  afterwards  to  London,  he  is 
honoured  with  the  last  confidences  of 
the  unhappy  Derwentwater;  and  the 
commissions  with  which  he  is  entrusted 
give  him  new  opportunities  of  coming 
in  contact  with  the  young  lady,  who  re- 
sides with  the  Countess,  and  is  in  her 
confidence.  He  is  himself  a  handsome 
young  fellow—  spirited  and  intelligent—- 
and of  course,  independently  of  his  rank, 
makes  the  due  impression ;  and  after  the 
miserable  execution  of  his  friend,  and 
the  departure  of  the  Countess  for  the 
continent,  and  the  removal  of  sundry 
obstructions,  especially  those  which  arise 
from  his  father,  who  comes  to  a  miserable 
end,  and  Avho  would  never  have  con- 
sented to  his  marriage  in  a  tory  family 
— the  usual  satisfactory  arrangements 
follow. 

Though  extending  only  to  two  vo- 
lumes, the  great  fault  is  its  prosiness — 
there  is  a  want  of  incident  and  activity, 
and  too  much  indulgence  in  political 
discussion.  The  Northumberland  dia- 
lect —  as  far  as  spelling  can  convey 
the  atrocious  cacophonies — is  something 
fresh  in  novels,  but  as  deserving  of  being 
recorded  as  the  Scotch,  with  which  we 
have  been  deluged  of  late  years. 

In  the  confiscations  consequent  upon 
the  rebellion,  Lord  Derwent water's  large 
domains  were  assigned  to  Greenwich 
Hospital,  the  managers  of  which  pulled 
down  the  noble  castle. 

Southennan.  3  vols.  I2mo.  By  J.  Gall, 
Esq  — Mr.  Gait  is  stepping  out  of  his 
peculiar  department — the  delineation  of 
Scottish  character  in  the  half-educated 
classes  of  life,  upon  which  he  has  cast  a 
shrewd  and  vigilant  glance ;  but  per- 
sonal observation  has  narrow  limits,  and 
Mr.  Gait  has  read  as  well  as  observed  ; 
and  it  is  but  common  policy,  when  a 
man  becomes  manufacturer-general  of 
books,  to  bring,  in  succession,  all  his  re- 


470 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[OCT. 


sources  and  acquisitions  to  account.  To 
turn  history  into  romance  is  now  a  com- 
mon resource,  and  Mr.  Gait  is  surely 
as  well  qualified  for  doing  the  same,  as 
many  who  have  met  with  brilliant  suc- 
cess. The  reign  of  Mary  is  fertile  in 
exciting  incidents ;  the  characters,  too, 
of  the  chief  actors  have  been  well  sifted  ; 
and  it  is  comparativelv  easv  to  adopt 
sentiments  to  patterns  distinctly  drawn 
and  coloured. 

The  hero,  Southennan,  is  but  a  con- 
necting link  of  a  few  well  known  but 
detached  incidents  —  a  young  man  of 
family,  who  goes  to  court  to  pay  his 
respects  to  the  queen  on  her  arrival 
from  France,  and  push  his  fortune.  The 
main  subjects  of  the  story  are  the  fates  of 
Chatelard  and  Rizzio.  Chatelard — who, 
historically,  in  the  words  of  Scott,  was 
"  half  poet,  half  courtier,  and  entire 
madman" — appears  in  the  novel  as  a 
youth  of  elegant  accomplishments,  and 
occupying  the  office  of  the  queen's  pri- 
vate secretary — while  Rizzio  holds  a 
subordinate  appointment  in  the  same 
department.  Mary  listens  to  Chatelard's 
performances  on  the  lute  with  pleasure, 
and  treats  him  with  distinction.  Chate- 
lard cannot  conceal  his  delighted  feelings 
— his  admiration  of  the  beautiful  queen 
is  obvious  to  his  companions ;  and  Rizzio 
especially,  who  has  his  own  views,  feeds 
the  youth's  vanity,  and  eggs  him  on  to 
acts  of  indiscretion,  which  occupy  a  large 
space  in  the  tale.  In  the  meanwhile, 
Southennan  falls  in  love  with  Adelaide, 
the  queen's  favourite  attendant,  the 
adopted  daughter  of  Dufroy,  a  French 
nobleman,  and  the  queen's  chamberlain. 
Her  father  is  an  outlaw,  for  an  act  of 
violence  committed  against  her  noble 
protector.  Accidentally  Southennan  be- 
comes acquainted  with"  Adelaide's  out- 
lawed father,  and  from  his  regard  for  the 
daughter,  though  she  is  attached  to  Cha- 
telard, is  induced  to  exert  all  his  interest 
to  procure  his  pardon.  He  exhausts  all 
his  resources  in  vain.  The  chancellor 
judges  a  pardon  impolitic,  and  Mary  re- 
fuses to  listen  to  further  solicitation. 
Southennan  consults  Rizzio,  and  Rizzio 
suggests  an  application  to  Chatelard,  with 
the  insidious  view  of  plunging  the  vain 
youth  into  new  indiscretions.  Chatelard 
falls  into  the  snare;  he  throws  himself 
at  the  queen's  feet,  and  at  a  moment 
when  she  is  wearied  with  the  importu- 
nities of  others  on  the  same  subject. 
To  get  rid  of  it,  she  abruptly  consents ; 
and  Chatelard  has  the  credit  of  obtaining 
what  the  noblest  had  urged  in  vain. 
Rizzio  had  secretly  spread  a  report  of 
the  queen's  fondness  for  Chatelard,  and 
this  invidious  favour  could  but  confirm 
the  report.  Scotch  jealousy  was  up  in 
arms ;  Dufroy  threw  up  his  office ;  and 
Mary  herself,  on  reflection,  displeased 
with  the  youth's  presumption,  dismissed 


him,  and  ordered  him  to  quit  the  coun- 
try instantly.  Rizzio,  not  yet  satisfied, 
though  he  was  immediately  appointed 
secretary  in  his  place,  prompted  Chate- 
lard to  attempt  a  private  interview  with 
the  queen,  and  Chatelard,  accordingly, 
found  means  to  conceal  himself  in  the 
royal  bed-chamber,  where  he  was  de- 
tected, hurried  off  to  prison,  tried,  con- 
victed of  treason,  and  executed. 

Rizzio,  thus  triumphing,  makes  ra- 
pid advances  in  the  queen's  confidence. 
He  brings  Darnley  to  court,  meaning  to 
make  the  silly  monarch  the  tool  of  his 
own  power ;  but  he  overshoots  his  mark. 
The  nobles  revolt  at  his  growing  arro- 
gance, and  the  king's  jealousy  is  easily 
excited.  Meanwhile  the  king  takes  a 
fancy  to  Adelaide,  and  attempts  to  have 
her  carried  off'.  Rizzio  assists  Southen- 
nan in  baffling  the  atrocious  attempt, 
and  the  whole  concludes  with  Rizzio's 
assassination.  Wherever  Mary  figures, 
the  scenes  are  excellent ;  and  Rizzio's 
career  is  an  exquisite  piece  of  Machia- 
velism. 

Perkin  Warleck.  3  vols.  I2mo.  -— 
Which  Perkin  ?  Mr.  Newman's— not 
Colburn  and  Bentley's ;  and  though  we 
have  not  seen  the  latter — Mrs.  Shelley's, 
we  believe — so  little  confidence  have  we 
that  a  tolerable  story,  merely  historical, 
concerning  persons  actuated  by  the  com- 
mon feelings  and  aspirings  of  mortals, 
can  come  from  her  hands,  that  we  have 
no  hesitation  in  matching  this  before  us 
with  it.  Mr.  Newman  has  only  to  pub- 
lish in  a  more  imposing  form.  Though 
no  pretender  to  metaphysics,  no  searcher 
into  the  finer  sources  of  action,  Mr. 
Alexander  Campbell  is  a  faithful  painter 
of  the  external  and  the  obvious.  He 
has  seized  truly  and  firmly  the  charac- 
ters of  the  times  he  has  chosen  to  deli- 
neate ;  and  told  his  story  distinctly,  and 
with  particulars,  which  in  no  material 
respect  contradict  the  best  authorities 
of  the  period.  The  romantic  James, 
who  took  up  the  cause  of  Perkin,  forms 
the  main  figure  of  the  piece;  and  the 
spirit  of  the  man  is  well  exhibited  in  a 
scene  or  two  of  private  adventure,  in 
which  the  monarch  delighted  to  indulge. 
Perkin's  story  commences  with  his  ar- 
rival in  Scotland,  and  is  confined  to  the 
liberal  reception  given  him  by  James  at 
his  court — his  marriage  with*  the  beau- 
tiful Catherine  Gordon — and  his  impo- 
tent invasion  of  England.  From  that 
point  historical  facts  are  abandoned. 
James  and  Perkin  are  together  recon- 
noitering,  when  they  are  surprised  by 
the  English — James  escapes,  but  Per- 
kin falls  into  the  hands  of  Henry's 
troopers,  through  the  agency  of  one  of 
his  own  confidents,  and  is  whipped  off' 
to  London.  Catherine  overtakes  him. 
She  visits  him  in  his  prison,  where  he 


iaso.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


471 


confesses  to  her  his  imposture ;  but  her 
devotion  survives  the  discovery,  and  is 
comforted  by  his  subsequent  assurance 
that,  though  illegitimate,  he  is  really 
the  son  of  Edward,  and  her  own  convic- 
tion that  noble  blood  must  flow  in  the 
veins  of  one  who  could  play  the  prince 
with  so  much  elegance  and  majesty. 

Waverley  Novels.  Vol.  XV.  and  X VI. 
Legend  of  Montrose  and  Ivanhoe  — The 
Legend  of  Montrose  was  written,  it 
seems,  chiefly  to  exhibit  the  melancholy 
fate  of  Lord  Kilpont,  and  the  singular 
circumstances  attending  the  birth  and 
history  of  Stewart  of  Ardvoirlich,  by 
whose  hand  the  unfortunate  nobleman 
fell.  The  young  lord,  with  Ardvoir- 
lich, who  shared  his  closest  confidence, 
joined  Montrose  just  before  the  battle 
of  Tippermuir,  and  within  a  few  days  of 
that  decisive  conflict  was  stabbed  by  his 
pretended  friend,  who  then  fled  to  the 
Covenanters,  and  was  employed  by  them. 
Bishop  Guthrie  states,  as  the  cause  of 
this  villainous  action,  that  Kilpont  re- 
fused to  concur  in  a  scheme  of  Stewart's 
for  assassinating  Montrose.  Ardvoir- 
lich, it  seems,  is  still  in  the  occupation 
of  Stewart's  descendants,  and  a  son  of 
the  present  proprietor,  with  a  very  na- 
tural desire  to  rescue  his  ancestor's  me- 
mory from  unmerited  infamy,  has  lately 
written  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  descriptive 
of  the  family  tradition  relative  to  Lord 
Kilpont's  death  -  which,  if  it  be  true, 
wholly  takes  the  sting  of  villainy  out  of 
the  case.  From  this  account,  it  appears, 
that  one  Macdonald,  at  the  head  of  a 
band  of  Irishman,  had  recently  joined 
Montrose,  and  on  his  way  had  commit- 
ted ravages  on  Stewart's  lands,  of  which 
Stewart  loudly  complained  to  Montrose. 
Receiving,  however,  no  satisfaction  from 
his  commander,  he  challenged  to  single 
combat  the  depredator ;  but  before  the 
hostile  meeting  took  place,  both  parties 
were  put  under  arrest,  on  the  informa- 
tion, it  was  supposed,  of  Lord  Kilpont. 
Montrose  forced  Macdonald  and  his 
challenger  to  shake  hands,  when  Stewart, 
a  man  of  powerful  muscle,  gave  Mac- 
donald such  a  grip,  as  to  make  the  blood 
start  from  his  ringers'  ends.  The  recon- 
ciliation was  of  course  anything  but  sin- 
cere. After  the  battle  of  Tippermuir, 
Stewart,  still  brooding  over  the  quarrel, 
was  drinking  with  Lord  Kilpont,  and 
suddenly  upbraided  his  friend  for  his 
interference.  One  hasty  word  begot 
another,  till  blows  followed,  and  Kilpont 
was  killed  on  the  spot.  The  necessity 
of  flight  was  imperative,  and  Stewart 
had  no  refuge,  apparently,  but  in  throw- 
ing himself  into  the  arms  of  the  opposite 
faction.  Sir  Walter  makes  the  amende 
honorable  by  printing  Mr.  Stewart's 
letter,  and  cautiously  adding — "  the  pub- 
lication of  a  statement  so  particular,  and 


probably  so  correct,  ia  a  debt  due  to  the 
memory  of  James  Stewart— the  victim, 
it  would  seem,  of  his  own  violent  pas- 
sions, but  perhaps  incapable  of  an  act  of 
premeditated  treachery."  This  is  one 
of  the  evils  of  introducing  historical 
characters  into  romances — the  tale  wri- 
ter necessarily  consults  effect  before 
fact. 

The  preface  to  Ivanhoe  accounts  for 
the  author's  changing  the  scene  of  his 
imaginations— he  was  apprehensive  of 
glutting  the  market  with  Scotch  stories, 
and  of  incurring  the  risk  and  charge  of 
mannerism,  and  desirous  also  of  trying 
how  far  he  could  naturalize  in  new  re- 
gions. No  matter  for  the  motive— the 
change  was  welcome,  and  the  attempt 
successful. 

An  Essay  on  the  Creation  of  the  Uni- 
verse, §c.,  by  Charles  Doyne  Sillery,  Au- 
thor of  "  Vallory,"  "  Eldred  of  Erin,"  $c. 
— -A  splendid  burst  of  declamation — we 
will  not  call  it  rant,  for  much  of  it  may 
deservedly  class  with  the  brilliant  but 
vague  effusions  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  to 
whom  the  author  dedicates,  in  grateful 
acknowledgment  for  delight  experienced 
in  the  perusal  of  his  Astronomical  Dis- 
courses. With  numbers,  the  devotional 
spirit  of  the  writer  will  redeem  the 
want  of  facts  in  his  discoveries,  and  of 
sobriety  in  his  conclusions.  Regarding 
analogies  as  certainties,  Mr.  Sillery 
proves,  with  the  greatest  facility,  and 
equal  confidence,  that  the  sun  which 
Newton  represents  as  a  globe  of  devour- 
ing fire,  and  the  comets  which  Whiston 
supposed  was  the  abode  of  the  damned, 
are  all  as  cool  as  cucumbers,  and  fully 
capable  of  being  inhabited  by  beings 
similar,  in  every  respect,  to  ourselves. 
Planets,  near  or  remote,  are  not,  as 
astronomers  absurdly  suppose,  hot  or 
cold  in  any  ratio  of  their  distances  from 
the  sun,  for  these  qualities  depend  upon 
the  density  of  their  atmospheres — the 
rarer,  the  cooler-  the  denser,  the  hotter 
— and,  therefore,  all  that  can  be  required 
to  make  these  bodies  of  the  same  tempe- 
rature, is  a  proportionate  change  in  the 
atmosphere.  The  planets  have  their 
days  and  nights,  summer  and  winter, 
sun  and  moons,  and,  consequently,  in- 
habitants. The  comets,  also,  without 
doubt,  are  worlds  inhabited  by  men  and 
women,  precisely  like  ourselves,  and 
growing,  specifically,  "  similar  vegeta- 
bles ,•"  for  planets — and  our  earth  is  one 
— are  nothing  but  adult  or  aged  comets, 
and  comets  sucking  planets,  and  the 
whole  but  crystallizations,  cr  condensa- 
tions of  an  etherial  medium  once  co- 
extensive with  universal  space. 

The  author  himself  must  be  as  singu- 
lar a  phenomenon  as  any  astronomical 
one  he  records — "  My  childhood,"  says 
he,  "  was  spent  in  the  study  of  the  sci- 


472 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[OCT. 


ences,  and  my  whole  soul  devoted,  at- 
that  time,  to  these  my  favourite  pur- 
suits. Often  have  I  sat  upon  the  green 
slope  of  a  sunny  bank,  apart  from  my 
playful  schoolfellows,  by  the  side  of  the 
silver-flowing  Tweed,  pondering  on  the 
works  of  Newton,  Ferguson,  Franklin, 
Bacon,  and  Paley — many  and  many  a 
quiet  night  have  I  stood,  in  the  solitude 
of  my  own  soul,  watching  the  apparent 
motion  of  the  stars,  when  the  heavens 
seemed  sweeping  over  the  slumbering 
country ;  and  thinking,  with  tear-brim- 
med eyes,  of  the  mighty  philosophers 
who  had  once  lived  in  this  little  world 
before  me,  till  I  had  poetically  fancied 
them  the  spirits  of  the  stars  that  shone 
sp  brilliantly  above  me." — And  again, 
44  The  day  was  spent  in  ascertaining,,  by 
actual  experiment,  the  elementary,  or 
first  principles  of  which  bodies  are  com- 
posed. The  night  was  entirely  devoted 
to  study.  Often  have  I  plied  my  un- 
wearied task  by  the  midnight  oil.  Often 
has  day-light  shone  through  my  blind, 
dimming  the  light  of  my  lamp,  and  I 
have  withdrawn  it  to  gaze  enraptured 
on  the  rising  sun.  Often  have  I  gone 
to  school  wearied  and  worn  out  with  my 
contemplations  during  the  night,  yet  re- 
turning in  the  afternoon  with  refreshed 
delight  to  renew  my  studies,"  &c. 

At  this  period  —  his  childhood  —  he 
finished  an  astronomical  work  of  700 
closely  written  folio  pages,  and  then 
commenced  a  series  of  philosophical  let- 
ters, on  every  thing  which  the  word  can 
be  made  to  comprise — both  of  which,  by 
the  way — prick  up  your  ears,  ye  pub- 
lishers ! — he  now  offers  to  any  one  of  you. 
After  these  performances,  he  went,  it 
seems,  to  sea,  and  this,  by  some  process 
not  very  usual,  made  a  poet  of  him  ;  and 
on  his  return  he  made  and  published 
divers  poems,  of  which  we  never  heard 
before.  Subsequently,  Dr.  Chalmers* 
Discourses  set  him  astronomizing  again, 
and  he  now  prints  expressly  — the  only 
sound  reason  for  printing  at  all— because 
he  has  news  to  communicate. — "  All  I 
have  stated  regarding  the  atmospheres 
of  the  comets— the  heat  of  the  planets 
being  alike  on  all— the  hourly  creation 
of  new  worlds  in  the  depths  of  space — 
with  many  other  observations  on  the 
economy  of  the  universe,  are  entirely  my 
own,  and  have  never  been  advanced  nor 
published  before." 

The  Northern  Tourist,  or  Stranger's 
Guide  to  the  North  and  North  West  of 
Ireland,  $c.,  by  P.  D.  Hardy,  Esq. — This 
is  a  Dublin  production,  and  in  every 
respect  is  creditable  to  the  Irish  press. 
In  paper,  type,  and  workmanship,  it  is 
of  the  most  respectable  character ;  the 
engravings,  ten  in  number,  besides  a 
good  map,  are  not  surpassed,  either  in 
beauty  of  design,  or  delicacy  of  execu- 


tion, by  the  very  best  of  the  English 
Annuals ;  and  as  to  its  literary  merits, 
it  would  be  an  insult  to  compare  it  with 
any  thing  of  the  kind  among  us,  for  all 
the  guide-books  along  the  English  coasts 
are  proverbially  of  the  most  contemp- 
tible description.  Not  one  in  a  score  of 
them  is  got  up  by  any  body  of  any  taste, 
sense,  or  knowledge.  The  beautiful  vo- 
lume before  us  is  confined  to  the  north 
and  north-west  coasts  of  Ireland,  em- 
bracing Belfast,  and  the  Giant's  Cause- 
way, and  whatever  is  remarkable  along 
the  entire  line  of  that  coast.  Every 
source  of  information  appears  to  have 
been  consulted,  and  the  writer's  local 
acquaintance  with  the  scene  is  obvious. 
The  writer  observes  —  of  the  district  he 
has  thus  visited,  described,  and  illus- 
trated— "  I  cohsider  it  to  be  fully  equal, 
in  every  point  of  view,  to  the  same  ex- 
tent of  country  in  any  other  division  of 
his  majesty's  dominions,  not  only  as  to 
its  general  aspect,  the  numerous  natural 
curiosities,  and  monuments  of  antiquity, 
with  which  it  abounds,  and  the  richness 
and  variety  of  its  scenery — but,  what  is 
of  still  greater  importance  in  the  esti- 
mate of  a  benevolent  mind,  as  regards 
the  appearance,  mode  of  life,  and  man- 
ners of  its  numerous  inhabitants."  It  is 
of  the  north  of  Ireland  this  is  said — 
would  it  could  be  predicated  of  the  south 
and  west  ! 

Poems,  by  Charles  Crocker. — Here  is 
another  volume  of  verses  by  a  maker  of 
shoes,  whom  the  advice  of  foolish  friends 
and  friendly  fools  have  absurdly  pre- 
cipitated into  print,  under  the  notion, 
forsooth,  Of  the  "  publication  being  pro- 
ductive of  profit  and  ad  vantage  to  him." 
Have  these  advisers  guaranteed  the  cost 
of  publication  ?  If  not,  they  are  as 
equitably  liable,  or  even  as  legally,  as 
those  are  who  venture  to  recommend  in- 
solvent customers.  This  Charles  Crocker, 
it  seems,  learned  to  read,  write,  and 
cypher  at  a  free- school  at  Chichester — 
at  nineteen  he  had  served  an  appren- 
ticeship of  seven  years  in  shoemaking, 
and  by  hook  or  by  crook  made  some  ac- 
quaintances with  Milton,  Cowper,  Gold- 
smith, Collins,  &c.,  and  now,  at  thirty- 
three,  has  made  lots  of  verses,  and  a 
family  of  children.  He  tells  his  own 
tale  simply  enough  ;  but  what  has  the 
world  to  do  with  so  simple  a  tale  ?  If 
making  verses  be  a  miracle  at  Chiches- 
ter, let  the  good  folks  enjoy  the  wonder 
and  the  fruits — they  have  a  Gazette  or 
a  Chronicle,  we  suppose,  and  that  is  the^ 
proper  receptacle.  Crocker  seems  to 
derive  enjoyment  from  the  stringing  of 
syllables,  and  we  hope  nothing  we  say 
— nay,  we  are  sure  it  will  not  —  will  pre- 
vent his  proceeding  as  long  as  he  finds 
pleasure  in  the  manufacture;  only  let 
him  not  print  .again.  The  verses  have 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


473 


polish,  but  no  thought — no  subtile,  no 
fresh  thought :  and  without  this  what  is 
poetry?  and  without  new  phrases  and 
fancies,  what  is  the  use  of  mere  verses  ? 
They  are  the  tasteless  fruits  of  mere 
imitation,  and  only  help  to  shew  how 
insignificant  the  talent,  or  rather  the 
art  of  verse-making  has  become. 

Military  Reminiscences,  extracted  from 
a  Journal  of  Active  Service  in  the  East 
Indies,  by  Colonel  James  Welsh,  of  the 
Madras  Establishment.  2  vols.  8vo. — Af- 
ter an  active  life,  spent  in  the  Com- 
pany's service,  into  which  he  entered  at 
fifteen,  and  quitted  it  at  the  end  of 
forty  years,  without  reaching  the  higher 
honours  of  his  profession,  Colonel  James 
Welsh  finally  returns  to  enjoy  the  otium 
of  his  native  land,  and  communicate  the 
pith  of  his  journals,  kept,  apparently, 
through  the  whole  of  his  lengthened 
career.  All  cannot  be  first ;  in  the  con- 
llicts  of  claim  and  pretension  some  must 
come  short  of  their  real  deserts,  and 
such  seems  long  to  have  been  Colonel 
Welsh's  case,  till  Sir  Thomas  Munro 
was  made  governor  of  Madras,  when  his 
merits,  or  his  interest,  secured  him  ho- 
nourable and  profitable  appointments. 
The  Reminiscences,  so  far  as  they  are 
merely  military,  cannot  be  very  attrac- 
tive, except  to  professional  men,  con- 
sisting as  they  do,  for  the  most  part,  of 
his  personal,  and,  subaltern  as  he  was, 
of  course  limited  experience — incidents 
detached  from  every  thing  relative  to 
the  policy  of  the  governments,  in  the 
conduct  of  the  commanders.  When  re- 
lating his  campaigns  against  Scindiah, 
he  says  of  himself — "  Haying  never 
troubled  my  head  with  the  intricacy  of 
state  affairs,  I  have  never  learned  the 
real  cause  of  the  war" — very  different 
from  his  friend  and  patron  Munro,  who 
commenced  political  speculating  with 
his  first  campaign,  and  was  as  ready  to 
decide  upon  the  merits  of  his  comman- 
ders, as  a  cadet,  as  when  he  was  presi- 
dent of  Madras.  But  though  no  states- 
man, Colonel  Welsh  was,  apparently, 
what  is  better,  a  man  of  good  sense,  in- 
tegrity and  humanity.  He  execrates 
tyranny,  and  approves  of  gentleness, 
and  so  far  as  his  personal  influence  went, 
and  doubtless  as  far  as  his  power  ex- 
tended, carried  his  conciliatory  views 
into  execution.  The  volumes  abound 
with  topographical  details — anecdotes  of 
his  comrades — sketches  of  the  country, 
manners,  customs,  characters,  and  espe- 
cjally  sporting  feats  —  the  whole  de- 
scribed with  simplicity,  without  any  ef- 
fort at  embellishing  in  matter  or  man- 
ner. The  views  of  the  towns,  and  par- 
ticularly of  the  hill-forts,  are  very  nu- 
merous, and  acceptable.  There  is  no 
getting  adequate  conceptions  of  these 
matters  from  verbal  description. 
M.M.  New  Scries VoL.X.  No. 58. 


Masulipatam  must  be  a  charming  re- 
sidence.— 

Having  remained  at  Point  de  Galle  for  three 
years,  early  in  1/99  it  was  my  unhappy  lot  to  be 
appointed  Fort-Adjutant  and  Postmaster  at  Ma- 
sulipatam,  a  place  far  exceeding  Calcutta  in  heat, 
•without  any  of  its  counterbalancing  advantages. 
Of  all  the  semi-infernal  stations  in  the  East  In- 
dies, the  interior  of  this  fort  is  the  most  trying  to 
an  European  constitution.  Erected  on  a  low 
sandy  swamp,  and  having  one  face  washed  by  a 
branch  of  the  Kistnah  river,  it  is  exactly  ten  de- 
grees and  a  half  more  to  the  northward  than 
Point  de  Galle,  and  three  more  than  Madras.  The 
vicinity  to  the  sea  might  also  have  been  expected 
to  do  something  towards  cooling  the  air,  but  the 
nature  of  the  soil  completely  counteracts  its 
balmy  effects,  and  the  inhabitants,  both  inside 
and  out,  are  in  a  continual  stew  from  one  end  of 
the  year  to  the  other.  The  soldier's  usual  descrip- 
tion is,  indeed,  extremely  apposite— that  "there  is 
only  a  sheet  of  brown  paper  between  it  and  Pan- 
demonium!" 

His  details  relative  to  the  Southern 
Poligars  are  of  considerable  interest  : 
but  little  is  known  of  that  war.  While 
declining  to  decide  upon  the  justice  01 
policy  of  the  severity  with  which  they 
were  treated,  and  to  which  Colonel 
Welsh  attributes  the  subsequent  explo 
sion,  he  ventures  to  express  an  opinion 
that  liberality  and  kindness  would  have 
been  the  best  way  of  securing  their  alle* 
giance.  He  was  then  (1001)  both  a 
staff  and  regimental  officer,  and  having 
thus,  he  says,  the  means  of  obtaining 
accurate  information,  he  enters  more 
into  detail,  because,  he  adds,  "  I  do  not 
believe  that  any  account  of  this  service, 
has  ever  been  given  to  the  public  ;  and 
it  was  customary,  while  gallant  fellows 
were  falling,  covered  with  glorious 
wounds,  to  put  down  the  casualty  in 
our  newspapers,  as  if  they  had  died  in 
their  beds,  thus — Deaths  :  lately,  to  the 

southward,  Captain ,  or  Lieutenant 

,"  &c.  &c. 

Co-operating  with  the  Company's  army 
were  still  some  of  the  Poligars.  One  of 
them,  mortally  wounded,  desired  that  he 
might  be  immediately  carried  to  Major 
Macauley,  who  was  at  the  time  sur* 
rounded  by  his  English  officers,  The 
old  man,  who  was  placed  upright  in  a 
chair,  then  said,  with  a  firm  voice — "  I 
have  come  to  shew  the  English  how  a 
Poligar  can  die."  He  twisted  his  whis« 
kers  with  both  hands  as  he  spoke,  and  in 
that  attitude  expired. 

In  the  Mahrattah  war,  the  Pettah  of 
Ahmednugger,  a  well  fortified  place, 
was  carried  at  once  by  assault.  The 
fort — the  strongest  Colonel  Welsh  ever 
saw  on  a  plain— quickly  surrendered. 
It  was,  however,  a  matter  of  little  won- 
der, he  observes,  when  our  ally,  Gok- 
liah,  a  Mahrattah  chief  residing  in  our 
camp,  with  a  bodv  of  horse,  wrote  thus 

3  O 


474 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[OcT. 


to  his  friends  at  Poonah  :  —  u  These 
English  are  a  strange  people,  and  their 
general  a  wonderful  man ;  they  came 
here  in  the  morning,  looked  at  the  Pet- 
tah  wall,  walked  over  it,  killed  all  the 
garrison,  and  returned  to  breakfast  ! 
What  can  withstand  them  ?" 

Colonel  "Welsh  records  the  surprise  of 
a  native  at  a  small  water-mill  erected 
for  grinding  corn,  and  adds,  "  it  was  in- 
deed fully  equal  to  that  of  the  Bengalee, 


.'ho,  upon  being  questioned  respecting 
n  English  gentleman,  who  had  recently 


who, 

an  English  gei 

erected  a  wind-mill,  exclaimed — c  What 

kind  of  man  this  Englishman  ?     Catch 

horse  and  make  work  !  catch  bullock  and 

make  work !  and  catch  wind  and  make 

work !'  " 

At  the  siege  of  Elitchpoor,  a  story  of 
some  na'iveti  is  told  of  Colonel  Wal- 
lace— 

We  had  been  one  night  working  very  hard  at 
a  battery  half  way  up  the  hill,  and  afterwards 
cleared  a  road  up  to  It,  but  no  power  we  pos- 
sessed could  move  our  iron  battering  guns  above 
a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  bottom,  so  steep 
and  rugged  was  the  ascent.  I  was  just  relieved 
from  working  by  a  fresh  party,  and  enjoying  a  few 
moments'  rest  on  some  clean  straw,  when  the  offi- 
cer commanding  the  working  party  came  up  to 
Colonel  Wallace,  and  reported  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  get  the  heavy  guns  up  to  the  battery. 
The  Colonel,  who  was  Brigadier  of  the  trenches, 
exclaimed—"  Impossible  1  hoot  mon  !  it  must  be 
done!  I've  got  the  order  in  my  pocket!"  These 
words,  although  they  failed  to  transport  the  guns 
into  the  battery,  fully  illustrated  the  true  charac- 
ter of  this  noble  and  devoted  soldier. 

Crossing  a  ferry  once  at  Chowhaut,  he 
saw  a  boy  of  fourteen  or  fifteen  row  a 
boat  across  the  river  with  one  of  his 
feet,  while  sitting  on  the  stern,  and  ac- 
tually make  it  move  with  several  people 
in  it,  as  fast  as  the  one  on  which  Colonel 
Welsh  was  standing. 

Here  was  a  resource  of  unsophisticated  nature 
displayed  to  advantage  ;  and  it  recals  to  my  mind 
a  feat  somewhat  similar,  which  I  once  witnessed 
when  out  snipershooting  at  Pallamcottah  :  a  nul- 
lah was  full  from  bank  to  bank,  and  I  observed  a 
naked  native  child,  five  or  six  years  old,  go  up  to 
a  buffalo,  and,  with  a  small  switch,  drive  it  into 
the  stream,  and  no  sooner  bad  the  tractable  ani- 
mal taken  to  the  water,  than  the  infant  driver, 
laying  hold  of  his  tail,  kept  himself  above  water 
till  they  reached  the  opposite  bank,  when  they 
parted  company.  I  have  even  my  doubts  whether 
they  were  not  perfect  strangers  before  this  so- 
ciable rencontre. 

.  Speaking  of  Yellore  (1823),  he  de- 
scribes the  cpndition  of  the  King  of 
Candy— 

The  King  of  Candy  is,  I  believe,  still  alive  in 
the  same  place  ;  he  has  many  attendants,  is  libe- 
rally supplied,  and  permitted  to  go  about  the  fort 
in  the  day-time,  with  considerable  state.  Being 
an  uncommonly  large  and  corpulent  man,  with 
horrid  features,  and  excessively  dark,  he  has  such 
an  idea  of  the  consequence  attached  to  corpulency, 


that  he  actually  stuffs  his  garments  in  front  with 
a  large  pillow,  every  time  he  goes  out  in  an  open 
palanquin.  He  is  reported  to  have  lost  his  king- 
dom by  violence  and  oppression,  his  own  subjects 
having  joined  the  English  in  his  overthrow  ;  and 
even  now,  when  a  state  prisoner,  without  a  sha- 
dow of  power,  he  at  times  gets  into  the  most  inde- 
cent and  violent  fits  of  rage,  and  makes  the  whole 
fort  of  Vellore  resound  with  his  voice,  in  terms  of 
reproach  or  abuse  of  his  attendants.  This  mon- 
ster is  too  well  used  ;  a  remark  not  generally  ap- 
plicable to  the  situation  of  state  prisoners. 

Colonel  Welsh's  account  of  the  Syrian 
College,  for  the  education  of  Christian 
priests,  at  Cotyam,  in  Travancore,  is  of 
some  interest.  We  do  not  remember 
meeting  with  similar  details  anywhere. 

CfDonoyhue,  a  Poem,  by  Hannah  Maria 
Bourke. — A  long  metrical  tale  of  a  Prince 
of  Killarney,  in  seven  cantos,  inscribed, 
successively,  with  the  words  Chase,  Pro- 
phecy, Feast,  Combat,  Spell,  Midnight 
Hour,  Departure,  without  any  other  key 
to  the  contents,  or  any  thing  in  the 
shape  of  epitome,  to  give  the  reader  a 
hint  of  the  subject  before  he  begins,  or 
direct  him  to  particular  passages.  If 
this  be  intended  to  entrap  him  into  the 
perusal  of  the  whole,  the  scheme  will 
fail  of  its  object.  A  tale  in  verse,  in  its 
very  announcement,  is  an  alarming — a 
repulsive  thing.  Why  ?  —  simply,  we 
suppose,  because  nothing  new,  or  more 
strictly,  nothing  fresh,  is  anticipated  by 
any  body  of  any  experience  in  modern 
books.  The  machineries,  if  not  the  ma- 
terials of  poetry,  are  worn  to  rags  ;  every 
body  uses  the  same  language,  and  meta- 
phors, and  allusions — the  same  turns, 
tones,  and  cadences.  The  common-places 
of  versification,  in  short,  are  become  too 
common  to  be  longer  tolerated.  Be- 
sides, a  tale  of  any  complexity  is  not  for 
verse,  and  its  shackles,  at  all — the  days 
when  such  things  were  wonderful  are 
for  ever  gone  by.  Prose  is  more  po- 
lished than  it  used  to  be— has  become 
more  susceptible  of  all  the  charms  va- 
riety^ and  flexibility  can  give — can  more 
readily  shake  off  the  customary  suits  of 
fashionable  dress,  and  certainly  convey 
the  conceptions  of  the  brain  and  the 
heart  more  directly  and  distinctly  than 
verse  at  any  length,  in  the  ablest  hands, 
ever  could  accomplish.  Short  pieces, 
prompted  by  simple  topics— single  inci- 
dents— flights  of  fancy,  unelaborated — 
excited  feelings — touches  of  emotion,  or 
workings  of  passion — these,  in  their  ef- 
fects, rather  than  their  causes  or  occa- 
sions, are  all  that  can  be  now  listened 
to  as  poetry.  To  read  metrical  tales  is 
a  labour,  when  at  the  best ;  what  must 
it  be  when  mediocrity  handles  thread- 
bare topics  ?  Place  two  tales,  both  un- 
known, one  in  verse  the  other  in  prose, 
before  twenty  cultivated  persons,  and 
we  doubt  if,  in  twenty  trials,  one  will 


1830.] 


Domestic  find  Foreign. 


47-' 


be  found  to  take  the  poem.  Out  of 
some  hundreds,  perhaps  two  or  three 
younglings  might  be  duped. 

Not  quite  to  overlook  Hannah  Maria 
Bourke,   we  will  take  a  specimen — no 
matter  where — 
And  now  beneath  the  sable  lash 
Of  his  bright  eye  there  shot  the  flash 
Of  kindled  wrath,  as  when  lightnings  fly, 
Through  night's  dark  gloom,  across  the  sky  t 
Thus,  like  to  that  electric  tire, 
Sparled  the  flashes  of  his  ire  } 
For  now  a  wild  and  shrilly  shout 
Proclaimed  the  hunters  on  their  route, 
And  that  the  stag  had  left  his  lair 
Beside  the  Mucruss  inland  Mere  : 
And  now  upon  the  dark  blue  tide 
A  small  black  speck  was  seen  to  glide,. 
Like  as  upon  Ganges'  stream. 
At  sunset,  flits  the  solar  beam; 
As  quick  as  light  then  glided  o'er 
A    chieftain's   curragh  (a  leather  boat)    to  the 

shore ; 

The  monarch  blew  a  blast,  to  guide 
The  frail  skiff  to  the  island's  side  ; 
And  saw,  with  pleasure,  flutter  light, 
The  pendant  of  the  Darlo  knight 
Waving,  like  Sappho's  plumage  fair, 
O'er  the  clear  surface  of  the  Mere. 

That,  we  think,  will  do ;  those  who  like 
it  know  where  to  find  more  of  the  same 
quality,  while  those  who  can  see  that 
all  is  said  by  rote,  will  feel  there  can  be 
no  thought,  and  to  go  on  must  be  lost 
labour. 

An  Historical  Sketch  of  the  Danmonii, 
the  Ancient  Inhabitants  of  Devonshire  and 
Cormvall,  fye.,  by  Joseph  Chat  taw  ay. — We 
expected,  from  the  preface,  in  a  small 
compass,  to  get  at  the  <}ream  of  the  story, 
antiquities  and  tradition  df  British  Corn- 
wall ^  and  we  have  found  nothing  but  a 
dry  outline  of  fabulous  or  unauthenti- 
cated  events  from  the  days  of  Brutus, 
tiie  great,  great  grandson  of  vEneas,  and 
his  companion  Corinseus,  the  kinsman  of 
./Eneas,  the  killer  of  the  giant  Gog-ma- 
gog  at  Plymouth,  and  first  king  of  the 
Danmonii,  in  the  year  1148  B.C.,  down 
to  the  deposition  of  Condor,  by  William 
the  Conqueror — with  scarcely  a  grain  of 
common  sense  from  beginning  to  end. 
Mr.  Chattaway  considers  the  monkish 
historians  (though  obviously  he  knows 
nothing  of  them  but  from  scraps  at  se- 
cond hand)  as  worthy  of  all  credit,  save 
only  where  they  are  manifestly  endea- 
vouring to  aggrandize  their  own  esta- 
blishment;  and,  accordingly,  with  a 
corresponding  faith,  we  suppose,  and  a 
becoming  gravity,  he  relates,  on  their 
authority,  how  the  "primitive  inhabi- 
tants of  Britain  were  giants,  the  off- 
spring of  the  thirty-one  daughters  of 
Dioclesian,  king  of  Syria,  who  having 
assassinated  their  husbands  on  their  nup- 
tial night,  by  the  persuasion  of  their 
elder  sister,  Albina,  their  father  com- 
manded them  to  be  put  into  a  ship  with- 


out either  rudder,  sails,  or  pilot,  when 
after  enduring  incredible  hardships,  they 
were  cast  on  this  island  (to  which  Albina 
giave  her  name,  calling  it  Albion),  arid  by 
demons  became  the  mothers  of  the  abo- 
riginal Britons." 

Mr.  Chattaway's  familiarity  with  the 
common  chronology  of  historical  facts  is 
very  striking,  and  fully  settles  the  ques- 
tion of  competency  for  his  undertaking. 
"  Pythias,"  he  says,  "  in  the  reign  of 
Alexander  the  Great,  sailed  from  Mar- 
seilles to  the  C8th  degree  of  north  lati- 
tude, and  made  such  reports  as,  though 
they  gained  him  the  credit  of  being  a 
notorious  liar,  led  to  a  new  expedition 
in  search  of  the  Tin  Islands,  in  the  year 
350  B.C." — that  is  fourteen  years"  be- 
fore Alexander's  reign  began. — During 
the  reign  of  Claudius,  and  in  the  year 
49  A.D.,  the  Britons,  it  seems,  rebelled 
from  the  Romans,  in  which  rebellion  the 
Danmonii  took  the  lead,  because  they 
were  burdened  with  taxes,  and  harassed 
by  the  pride  and  insolence  of  the  sol- 
diers—that is  long  before  the  Romans 
visited  the  West. — The  Romans,  again, 
are  represented  as  withdrawing  their 
troops  from  Britain,  in  the  year  410  ; 
that  is,  forty  years  before  the  fact,  ac- 
cording to  the'  usual  accounts,  and  Mr. 
Chattaway  gives  no  reason  for  changing 
the  date. 

A  Cornish  vocabulary  closes  the  vo- 
lume. Dolly  Pentreath,  a  fish-woman  of 
Mount's  Bay,  was,  it  seems,  the  last 
who  spoke  the  language  as  her  mother 
tongue,  she  being  above  twenty  before 
she  could  speak  English.  She  died  in 
1788,  at  the  age  of  102,  and  was  buried 
in  the  church-yard  of  her  native  parish, 
St.  Paul's,  near  Penzance,  where  a  mo- 
nument was  erected  to  her  memory,  on 
which  was  an  epitaph  in  Cprnish  and 
English.  So  says  Mr.  Chattaway 's  text ; 
but,  in  his  notes,  it  appears  that  neither 
monument  nor  epitaph  can  be  found, 
nor  can  the  place  of  her  burial  be  iden- 
tified. 

Memoirs  of  the  Life  and  Works  of 
George  Romney,  fyc.,  by  the  Rev.  John 
Romney,  B.D.,  formerly  Fellow  of  St. 
John's,  Cambridge. — A  new  biography, 
in  these  biographical  times,  of  this  emi- 
nent painter,  by  some  competent  autho- 
rity, was  not,  it  seems,  at  all  superfluous. 
Cumberland's  is  but  a  sketch,  and  Hay- 
ley's,  notwithstanding  his  long  intimacy 
with  the  artist,  neither  correct  npr 
friendly.  The  only  man  Hying  in  pos- 
session of  the  requisite  materials  was 
his  son,  and  certainly  the  only  one  suf- 
ficiently interested  to  correct  mistakes, 
and  remove  misapprehensions.  Rom- 
ney was  of  the  class  of  the  self-taught — 
came  late  into  the  profession — was  little 
connected  with  artists — Was  no  R.A., 
and  did  not  wish  to  be*— was  a  man  of 

3  O  2 


476 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature. 


[OCT. 


a  sensitive  temperament  and  retired 
habits  —  was  misunderstood,  and  made 
enemies.  Hayley  had  a  good  deal  of 
levity  in  him,  and  was  as  likely,  with 
not  half  the  smartness,  to  say  things  for 
mere  effect  as  Cumberland,  and,  which 
was  not  Cumberland's  case,  for  want  of 
thought.  According  to  the  present 
biographer,  Hayley  gave  unfavour  - 
able  turns  to  matters  that  would  well 
bear  a  better  construction.  "  His  friend- 
ship," the  author  says,  "  was  ground- 
ed  on  selfishness,  and  the  means  by 
which  he  maintained  it  was  flattery. 
By  this  art  he  obtained  a  great  ascen- 
dancy over  the  mind  of  Romney,  and 
knew  well  how  to  avail  himself  of 
it  for  selfish  purposes.  He  was  able, 
also,  by  a  canting  kind  of  hypocrisy, 
to  confound  the  distinctions  between 
vice  and  virtue,  and  to  give  a  colour- 
ing to  conduct  that  might,  and  pro- 
bably did,  mislead  llomney  on  some 
occasions.  He  drew  him,  likewise,  too 
much  from  general  society,  and  almost 
monopolized  him,  and  thus  narrow- 
ed the  circle  of  his  acquaintance  and 
friends.  By  having  intimated  an  inten- 
tion of  writing  Romney's  life,  he  made 
him  afraid  of  doing  anything  that  might 
give  offence.  There  was  a  wrong-head- 
edness  in  the  general  conduct  of  Hay- 
ley,  arising  from  the  influence  of  pow- 
erful passions,  that  disqualified  him 
for  being  a  judicious  and  prudent  ad- 
viser ;  yet  he  was  always  interfering  in 
Romney's  affairs  and  volunteering  his 
advice,  and  I  have  too  much  reason  to 
believe,  that  whatever  errors  Mr  Rom- 
ney may  have  committed,  they  were 
mainly  owing  to  the  counsel  or  instiga- 
tion of  Hayley."  This  may  be  just, 
but  is  severe,  and  the  same  tone  per- 
vades the  whole  book.  The  biographer 
will  not  suffer  any  one  to  utter  a  word 
unfavourably  of  his  father.  Fuseli  said, 
pithily,  llomney  was  made  for  the  times, 
and  the  times  for  him,  by  which  he 
meant,  that  the  public  wanted  nothing 
but  portraits,  and  llomney  could  paint 
nothing  else.  The  biographer  says, — 
"  Fuseli  would  have  painted  portraits 
too,  if  he  could  have  done  them  as  well 
as  llomney."  Cumberland  ventured  to 
>  say  llomney  had  no  dislike  for  money — 
for  which  the  biographer  twits  him  with 
his  own  poverty,  and  a  loan  which  he 
received  from  Romney.  Garrick  once 
quizzed  a  stiff  family  picture  he  saw  in 
Romney's  studio — "  but  how,"  observes 
the  biographer,  "  could  candour  be  ex- 
pected from  the  intimate  friend  of  Rey- 
nolds ?"  Reynolds's  jealousy  of  Rom- 
ney, indeed,  perfectly  haunts  the  bio- 
grapher— he  detects  it  at  every  turn, 
and  on  occasions  where  surely  nobody 
else  could  discern  it. 

Romney  was  born   near   Dalton,  in 
Lancashire,  the  son  of  a  carpenter  and 


joiner,  and  employed  with  his  father  till 
twenty-one,  wnen  his  bent  for  painting 
becoming  more  decided,  he  bound  him- 
self to  an  itinerant  portrait-painter  for 
five  years,  but  before  the  period  expired 
he  released  himself,  and  set  up  on  his 
own  account,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
his  native  place.  After  a  year  or  two's 
residence — having  probably  exhausted 
the  sitters  among  the  natives — he  re- 
paired to  London  in  17C2,  where  he 
worked  hard  till  1773,  advancing  his 
prices  from  time  to  time  to  twelve  gui- 
neas. He  then  visited  Rome ;  ana  on 
his  return,  in  1776,  on  the  strength  of 
his  foreign  studies,  took  a  house  in  Ca- 
vendish-square, raised  his  prices,  got 
quickly  into  repute,  pushed  Reynolds 
from  his  stool,  and  for  the  next  twenty 
years  was  unrivalled  as  the  fashionable 
portrait-painter  of  the  day.  In  1796,  he 
had  attacks  of  paralysis,  and  in  his  last 
days  sunk  into  absolute  idiocy,  dying 
in  1802,  at  the  age  of  68.  He  had  mar- 
ried early.  When  he  went  to  London 
he  left  his  wife  behind,  and  never  saw 
her  but  twice  afterwards.  The  son  calls 
this  a  resolution  to  forego  the  endear- 
ments of  domestic  life  for  the  noble  pur- 
pose of  providing  for  the  future  welfare 
of  his  family — while  Hayley  ascribes  it 
to  a  settled  design  of  abandoning  her 
from  the  first.  An  elaborate  apology 
follows — much  of  it  quite  unintelligible 
— but  finally,  the  estrangement  is  laid 
upon  the  shoulders  of  the  calumniating 
Hayley. 

The  chief  point  of  interest  for  the 
world  is  the  artist's  works.  These,  ex- 
clusive of  his  endless  portraits,  though 
numerous,  are  little  known.  They  were 
never,  save  a  very  few  of  them,  exhi- 
bited ;  and  many  of  them  the  biographer 
is  apprehensive  will  be  confounded  with 
Reynolds's,  and  he  have  the  credit  of 
them— though  the  two  styles,  we  be- 
lieve, are  sufficiently  distinguishable. 
The  anecdotes  connected  with  some  of 
them  are  interesting.  Lady  Hamilton, 
while  under  Charles  Greville's  protec- 
tion, sat  habitually  to  Romney.  Twenty- 
three  pictures  are  enumerated  for  which 
she  assumed  different  characters ;  and, 
according  to  the  author,  it  was  in  Rom- 
ney's studio  she  practised  the  attitudes 
for  which  she  was  afterwards  so  cele- 
brated. 

Tales  of  Other  Days,  by  J.  Y.  A.,  with 
Illustrations  by  Georyc  Cruikshank . — We  i 
mean  to  throw  no  reflection  upon  Mr. 
Cruikshank's  morals,  when  we  say  that 
he  seems  to  be,  beyond  all  comparison, 
better  acquainted  with  the  Devil  than  any 
artist  that  ever  lived.  He  is  not  like 
one  who  has  obtained  an  occasional  and 
unsatisfactory  glimpse  of  him  in  a 
dream,  a  grotesque  vision  of  the  night, 
after  having  supped  full  of  horrors,  ac- 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


477 


cording  to  Fuseli's  recipe.  But  he  ap- 
pears to  have  had  better  opportunities 
of  taking  his  notes  and  making  sketches. 
He  has  evidently  been  on  a  more  fami- 
liar footing  than  the  rest  of  his  brethren  ; 
he  seems  to  have  so  much  knowledge  of 
the  stage-business  of  the  infernal  the- 
atre, as  almost  to  justify  a  conclusion 
that  he  has  been  admitted  behind  the 
scenes.  The  best  of  it  all  is,  that  he 
can  turn  our  terrors  and  twinges  to 
"  quips  and  cranks  and  mirthful  wiles." 
He  has  made  the  Devil  the  principal 
comic  actor  of  his  time  ;  he  has  endeared 
him  to  us  by  the  drolleries  with  which 
he  has  surrounded  him.  He  has  made 
his  horns  more  ludicrous  than  Falstaff 's 
with  the  buck's  head :  and  the  glass  slip- 
per of  Cinderella,  gives  place,  in  beauty, 
to  the  fascinations  of  his  cloven  foot. 
The  volume  before  us  presents  us  with 
some  additional  marvels  of  this  kind. 
The  frontispiece  awakens  a  mixed  sen- 
sation— we  know  not  whether  we  are  to 
laugh  or  be  agitated.  The  dark  figure 
with  his  hands  resting  on  his  knees,  is 
the  herald  of  much  mystery,  and  the 
white  dots  that  form  his  eyes  are  over- 
poweringly  expressive.  There  are  six 


or  seven  of  these  illustrations,  engraved 
in  a  most  masterly  style  by  Thompson 
and  Williams.  They  carry  the  art  to 
its  height,  and  we  may  almost  defy  it 
to  advance  farther.  The  tales,  of  which 
there  are  twelve,  have  appeared  before, 
but  they  are  well  entitled  to  this  re-ap- 
pearance. The  style  of  them  is  quaint 
and  pleasant  enough,  and  the  subjects 
are  sufficiently  varied.  There  is  an  air 
of  antiquity  about  them  that  is  in  keep- 
ing with  the  design,  and  the  habits  and 
costume  of  the  dramatis  personse  have 
been  carefully  attended  to.  We  like 
Roger  Clevelly,  the  Magic  Phial,  and 
Friar  Rush,  especially.  The  Fifth  of 
November  wants  an  illustration  ;  we 
would  have  given  much  to  have  seen 
Cruikshank's  notion  of  Guy  Fawkes. 
The  illustration  of  the  Three  Suitors  is 
exquisitely  beautiful — the  tale  is  not 
so  complete.  One  of  the  best,  is  that 
in  which  the  fiend  has  disarmed  his 
antagonist,  by  curling  his  sword,  so  that 
it  is  left  hanging  on  his  own.  The  vo- 
lume is  not  only  an  elegant  but  an  amus- 
ing one,  and  will  be  found  a  rare  prize 
on  a  winter's  evening. 


FINE  ARTS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


Portrait  of  His  Majesty  King  William. 
— Popularity  is  a  fine  thing,  for  it  re- 
conciles us  to  very  indifferent  portraits, 
and  makes  us  find  an  interest  where, 
but  for  the  charm  that  hangs  about  the 
subject,  there  would  be  very  little.  In- 
fluenced by  this  feeling,  we  look  upon 
certain  bad  portraits  of  our  present 
monarch,  with  more  satisfaction  than 
would  be  excited  by  the  finest  resem- 
blances of  some  kings  that  we  could 
name.  The  engraving  before  us,  is  the 
best  that  we  have  seen,  and  will  be  an 
acceptable  offering,  at  this  loyal  moment, 
to  all  classes  of  His  Majesty's  subjects. 
It  is  a  mezzotint,  somewhat  over-fi- 
nished, by  Dawe.  The  composition  is 
not  remarkable  for  grace,  nor  will  the 
engraving  be  renowned  as  a  likeness ; 
yet  it  is,  as  we  have  said,  the  best  that 
we  have  hitherto  seen. 

The  portrait  of  Adelaide,  Lady  Ribbles- 
dale,  which  is  now  before  us,  forms  the 
seventieth  contribution  to  the  "  Portrait 
Gallery  of  the  Female  Nobility,"  pub- 
lished *iw  La  Belle  Assembler,  and  is  in 
every  way  worthy  to  be  admitted  into 
such  a  collection  of  graces.  It  is  remark- 
able for  the  extreme  softness  and  femi- 
nine beauty  of  its  expression,  a  modest 
elegance  and  unaffected  simplicity,  that 
realizes  every  thing  we  could  desire  in 
the  portrait  of  a  truly  English  lady. 
The  picture  is  by  Mrs.  Carpenter  ;  and 
the  taste  and  purity  of  the  composition, 


in  the  execution  of  the  head  especially, 
has  been  skilfully  caught  and  appre- 
ciated by  the  engraver. 

We  have  been  delighted  by  a  glance 
at  the  first  specimen  of  Views  in  the 
East,  comprising  India,  Canton,  and  the 
Shores  of  the  Red  Sea.  This  first  part 
contains  three  engravings :  viz.  "  The 
Tomb  of  Humaioon — Delhi,"  from  a 
drawing  of  Purser's,  by  Miller ;  "  Taj 
Mahal  Agra,"  a  most  lovely  and  liquid 
view  from  the  pencil  of  Prout,  finely 
engraved  by  Wallis ;  and  u  Tiger  Is- 
land—Canton," executed  by  Goodall, 
from  a  design  by  Stanfield ;  the  whole 
being  copied  from  original  sketches  by 
Capt.  Robert  Elliot,  R.N.  What  these 
original  sketches  may  be,  we  know 
not,  but  the  genius  of  the  several  artists 
is  distinguishable  in  every  touch  and 
outline.  They  have  made  them  their 
own,  but  not,  we  hope,  to  the  sacrifice 
of  fidelity  and  correctness.  It  would 
be  a  pity,  were  they  to  destroy  or  lose 
sight  of  nature,  while  they  are  clothing 
it  in  poetry.  Capt.  Elliot,  who  must 
himself  be  the  best  judge,  should  place 
a  gentle  check  upon  the  imaginations  of 
his  improvers ;  for  it  must  be  very  diffi- 
cult to  colour  and  heighten  a  scene  from 
the  conceptions  of  another,  without  re- 
sorting sometimes  to  poetical  invention. 
The  view  by  Prout  is  perfectly  Indian 
in  its  character ;  the  white  columns  and 
cupolas,  contrasted  with  the  dark  view 


478 


Fine  Arts'  Publications. 


[OCT. 


in  the  fore-ground,  look  like  a  hall  of 
enchantment.  We  almost  envy  the 
happy  negro,  standing  in  the  smooth 
water  filling  his  jars,  as  if  he  had  never 
heard  of  Abolition.  But  the  succeeding 
view  of  Tiger  Island,  forms  a  striking 
set-off  to  the  placidity  of  its  predecessor. 
The  boats  seem  struggling  in  the  water. 
It  is  an  admirable  engraving.  The  his- 
torical and  traditionary  accounts  of  the 
country  and  its  productions,  combine 
information  with  brevity;  and  the  en- 
tire work,  published  in  monthly  parts, 
will  form  a  series  of  illustrations  of 
Heber's,  Monro's,  and  other  works  re- 
lating to  the  East. — We  desire  no  better 
or  more  beautiful  illustrations  than  this 
first  number  contains. 

A  very  different  but  scarcely  less 
lovely  set  of  landscapes,  is  presented  to 
us  in  the  fifth  part  of  the  Illustrations 
of  the  Waverley  Novels.  It  contains 
from  the  Abbot,  "  St.  Mary's,"  by 
Prout;  from  the  Heart  of  Mid  Lothian, 
"  Holy  Loch,"  by  Harding ;  from  Old 
Mortality,  "  Bothwell  Castle,"  by  Rein- 
agle  ;  and  from  Peveril  of  the  Peak, 
u  Peel  Castle,"  by  Gastineau.  We  say 
much,  when  we  express  our  conviction 
that  they  will  not  disappoint  the  expec- 
tations which  the  excellence  of  the 
preceding  views  has  excited. 

The  three  portraits  forming  the  se- 
venteenth Number  of  the  National  Por- 
trait Gallery,  are  those  of  Sir  Abraham 
Hume,  extremely  well  engraved,  but 
not  strikingly  like;  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  from  a  painting  of  Owen's, 
by  Holl,  an  engraving  of  great  merit ; 
and  the  gallant  Sir  Thomas  Picton, 
from  a  picture  by  Sir  W.  Beechy,  of  the 
soldierly  or  intellectual  dignity  of  which, 
we  can  say  but  little. 

Panorama  of  Switzerland,  from  the 
Summit  of  Mont  Rigli,  with  a  Circular 
View  of  the  Country. — For  this  useful, 
and  we  may  add,  entertaining  produc- 
tion, we  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Leigh, 
whose  list  of  topographical  attractions 
of  a  similar  kind  is  already  so  extensive. 
We  obtain  by  a  single  glance  along  this 
unprecedented  fly-leaf,  an  adequate  no- 
tion of  the  whole  extent  of  the  country 
which  it  embraces ;  and  as  the  eye  tra- 
vels on  from  lake  to  lake,  and  from 
summit  to  summit,  we  gather  more  in- 
formation than  could  be  gleaned  from 
whole  pages  of  description,  or  from  anv 
thing  indeed,  short  of  an  actual  visit 
to  the  country.  Those  who  do,  and 
those  who  do  not  visit  Switzerland, 
should  possess  this  panoramic  view  of 
it ;  in  the  account  of  its  various  remark- 
able objects,  they  will  find,  in  a  compact 
form,  all  the  information  they  will  re- 
quire upon  the  subject. 

We  mention  the  publication  of  the 
first  part  of  The  History  and  Topography 
of  the  United  States  of  North  America, 


edited  by  John  Howard  Hilton,  A.M., 
and  illustrated  with  a  series  of  views, 
with  the  purpose  of  returning  to  it  at 
a  future  time,  when  the  plan  of  it  shall 
be  more  clearly  developed,  and  when 
we  shall  be  better  enabled  to  decide 
upon  its  pretensions.  The  present 
number  affords  promise  of  a  work  of 
great  utility  and  interest.  The  series 
of  views  will  exhibit  "  the  most  splen- 
did and  majestic  scenery  that  nature 
ever  produced,  and  some  of  the  most 
elegant  and  Chaste  specimens  of  civic 
architecture  that  any  nation  can  boast. 
Here,"  say  the  projectors,  "  our  path 
is  wholly  untrodden."  We  shall  ac- 
company them  upon  it  with  pleasure, 
and  hope  to  see  an  infinite  variety  of  the 
same  neatly  executed  and  interesting 
plates  that  decorate  the  number  before 
us.  The  work  is  dedicated  to  Washing- 
ton Irving. 

One  of  the  finest  engravings  that  we 
have  for  some  time  seen,  is  now  upon  our 
table — a  Portrait  of  Earl  Grey,  by  Cou- 
sins. It  is  from  the  likeness  by  Sir 
Thomas  Lawrence,  and  forms  a  picture 
which  any  nobleman  might  be  proud 
to  be  the  subject  of.  The  attitude  is 
easy,  simple,  and  natural;  one  of  those, 
in  which  the  painter  always  succeeded 
in  turning  the  common-place  to  ele- 
gance. The  expression  is  a  fine  one ; 
the  intellect  is  brought  out,  and  the 
hauteur  kept  in  the  back-ground ;  there, 
is  something  of  an  aristocratic  tinge 
in  its  character — but  the  artist  has  skil* 
fully  thrown  over  it  a  suaviter  in  modo 
that  entirely  redeems  it.  The  plate  is 
executed  in  the  first  style  of  art.  No 
painter  could  have  found  a  more  effi- 
cient and  faithful  interpreter  of  his 
design,  than  Mr.  Cousins  has  proved 
himself  to  be,  in  transferring  the  soft- 
ness and  brilliancy  of  Lawrence  to  the 
print  before  us. 

We  are  compelled  to  regard  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  "  Annuals"  as  an  an- 
nouncement that  winter  is  at  hand. 
Here  are  the  plates  of  the  Winter's 
Wreath  for  the  ensuing  year  already 
before  us,  spreading  a  dullness  over  our 
senses.  But  their  beauty  atone  for 
this  unwelcome  announcement ;  never 
did  ill-news  find  fairer  messengers.  The 
Winter's  Wreath  is  first  in  the  field  ; 
and  if  we  are  to  Judge  of  the  volume  by 
the  splendour  of  its  embellishments,  it 
bids  fair,  notwithstanding  the  increased 
number  of  its  competitors,  to  come  in 
for  a  slice  of  the  golden  apple  for  which 
the  race  is  run.  The  plates  are  twelve 
in  number,  besides  a  decorated  page  for 
inscriptions.  Of  these  we  particularly 
admire  "  St.  Cecilia,  the  English  Flower, 
Dove  Dale,  the  Cottage  Farm-vard, 
A  Pass  of  the  Abruzzi,  and  Cologne 
on  the  Rhine  ;"  the  remaining  six  are 
scarcely  inferior  to  them,  and  all  are 


Fine  Arts'  Publications. 


1830.] 

executed  in  a  style  that  cannot  fail  to 
enchant  all  who  purchase  them,  and  to 
make  all  who  do  not,  envy  those  who 
do.  Many  of  these  plates  are  by  first- 
rate  artists,  and  they  do  honour  to  the 
names  that  are  attached  to  them. 

Portrait  of  the  Princess  Victoria. — This 
is  a  beautiful  engraving,  of  an  oval  form, 
by  Golding,  from  a  picture  by  Fowler ; 
and  affords  us  a  better  idea  of  the  youth- 
ful grace  and  beauty  of  this  little  prin- 
cess than  any  engraving  previously  pub- 
lished. The  head  is  sweetly  executed, 
and  the  expression  is  simple  and  charac- 
teristic. We  could  not  at  first  sight 
very  easily  make  out  whether  the 
principal  object  in  the  foreground  is  a 
spaniel,  or  a  hat,  with  a  plume  of 
feathers  appended  to  it.  The  ornament 
is  a  little  too  conspicuously  introduced  ; 
but  the  whole  picture  is  light,  delicate, 
and  tasteful,  and  is  worthy  of  its  illus- 
trious and  promising  subject. 

FINE    ARTS. 

Monument  to  Shakspeare. — A  commit- 
tee comprising  some  highly  respectable 


479 


names  has  been  formed,  for  the  purpose 
of  raising  a  monumental  trophy  to  the 
memory  of  Shakspeare.  All  tnat  sur- 
prises us  in  this,  is,  that  it  should  have 
been  delayed  so  long.  The  trophy  is  to 
be  erected  by  public  subscription — no 
individual  contribution  to  exceed  £3 — 
an  amount  which  it  would  be  far  better 
to  increase  to  £10.  The  trophy  is  to  be 
worthy  of  the  progress  of  the  arts  and 
the  grandeur  of  the  empire  ;  it  is  to  be 
placed  in  a  conspicuous  part  of  the  me- 
tropolis, "  which  from  its  being  the 
scene  of  his  glory  and  the  resort  of  men 
of  every  nation,  is  pre-eminently  entitled 
to  be  hallowed  by  so  classical  a  distinc- 
tion, more  especially  as  this  first  act  of 
universal  homage  to  a  British  poet  will 
be  paid  to  the  "  chiefest"  and  most  com- 
prehensive genius  the  world  ever  saw." 
We  would  suggest  that  the  managers  of 
the  national  theatres,  should  give  a 
benefit  in  aid  of  the  subscription  ;  and 
we  trust  that  there  is  not  a  literary  man 
in  the  kingdom  whose  name  will  be 
found  wanting  in  a  list  which  will  do 
honour  to  all  who  are  enrolled  in  it. 


WORKS  IN  THE  PRESS  AND  NEW  PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS    IN    PREPARATION. 

A  New  Edition  is  preparing  of  Major 
Rennell's  Geography  of  Herodotus,  printed 
from  the  Author's  revised  Copy. 

Waldensian  Researches ;  during  a  Se- 
cond Visit  to  the  Waldenses  of  the  Valleys 
of  Piedmont.  By  the  Rev.  S.  Gilly  :  with 
Illustrations. 

Patroni  Ecclesiarum  ;  or,  a  List  of  the 
Patrons  of  the  Dignities  and  Livings  of  the 
United  Church  of  England  and  Ireland. 

Tales  of  a  Grandfather;  being  Stories 
taken  from  the  History  of  France.  By  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  Bart.,  are  in  preparation. 

Also,  by  the  Author  of  Waverley,  Robert 
of  Paris,  a  Romance  of  the  Lower  Empire. 

Fragments  of  Voyages  and  Travels.  By 
Captain  Basil  Hall,  R.N. 

Destiny;  a  Tale.  By  the  Author  of 
"  The  Inheritance." 

The  Author  of  The  Fall  of  Nineveh  is 
engaged  on  The  Sea-Kings  in  England  ;  a 
Historical  Romance  of  the  Time  of  Alfred. 

The  Church-yard  Lyrist,  consisting  of 
five  hundred  original  Inscriptions  for 
Tombs. 

Thos.  Haynes  Bayly,  Esq.  announces 
a  Poem  on  the  French  Revolution  of 
1830,  with  Wood-cuts,  from  Designs  by 
George  Cruikshank. 

The  British  Herald,  or  Cabinet  of  Armo- 
rial Bearings  of  the  Nobility  and  Gentry  of 
Great  Britain  is  preparing,  by  Thomas 
Robson. 

Captain  T.  R.  H.  de  Bourdieu  announces 
Instructions  on  the  subject  of  Military 
Positions,  with  Plates. 


We  understand  that  a  new  daily  even- 
ing paper  will  shortly  make  its  appear- 
ance, called  The  Albion,  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  a  b'beral  support  to  the  ministry  of 
the  Duke  of  Wellington. 

The  French  Revolution  of  1830,  the 
Events  which  produced  it,  and  the  Scenes 
by  which  it  was  accompanied,  by  D-  Turn- 
bull,  is  soon  to  appear. 

Rosamond,  a  Tragedy,  from  the  German 
of  Theodore  Korner. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Grant  promises  a  Volume 
on  the  Character  of  a  Christian  Family, 
entitled  "The  Rectory  of  Valehead." 

A  Popular  System  of  Architecture,  with 
Engravings,  and  References  to  well-known 
Structures,  is  preparing.  By  Wm.  Hosk- 
ing. 

The  Rev.  J.  Brown  announces  a  work, 
entitled  Christus  in  Coelo. 

The  Fallacies  of  Dr.  Wayte's  "  Anti- 
Phrenology"  Exposed,  in  a  Critical  Review 
of  his  Observations  on  the  Modern  Doctrine 
of  the  Mind,  is  to  be  shortly  published. 

Elements  of  Surgery.  By  Robert  Listen, 
Surgeon  to  the  Royal  Infirmary  of  Edin- 
burgh. 

The  Father's  Eye  is  announced  by  Mrs. 
Sherwood,  together  with  the  Two  Paths ; 
or,  the  Lofty  and  the  Lowly  Way ;  and 
the  Mountain  Oak. 

Gwillan  y  Bardd,  (the  Bardic  Vineyard,) 
being  the  Welsh  Poetical  Works  of  the 
Rev.  Daniel  Evans. 

A  Collection  of  Psalms  and  Hymns,  in 
the  Welsh  Language.  By  the  Rev.  Daniel 
Rees. 


480 


'List  of  New  Works. 


[OCT. 


The  Talba,  or  Moor  of  Portugal,  a 
Romance,  is  announced  by  Mrs.  Bray, 
Author  of  De  Foix. 

On  the  Proceedings  of  the  Royal  Society, 
as  connected  with  the  Decline  of  Science, 
with  Arguments  proving  that  before  the 
Society  can  regain  respect  and  confidence, 
a  Reform  of  its  Conduct,  and  a  remodelling 
of  its  Charter  are  indispensable,  is  pro- 
mised by  Sir  James  South. 

Robert  Vaughan,  Author  of  "  The  Life 
and  Opinions  of  Wycliffe,"  is  preparing 
Memorials  of  the  Stuart  Dynasty. 

The  Winter's  Wreath  for  1831,  illus- 
trated with  13  Engravings,  will  speedily 
appear. 

"  Wilson's  American  Ornithology," 
with  the  continuation  by  Charles  Lucien 
Bonaparte,  will  contain  upwards  of  100 
Engravings,  with  an  enumeration  of  the 
newly  discovered  species.  By  Sir  William 
Jardine,  Bart.,  Author  of  Illustrations  of 
Ornithology. 

Professor  Jameson  is  preparing  for  Con- 
stable's Miscellany,  an  edition  of  Wilson's 
great  work  on  American  Ornithology. 

The  Lyre  and  the  Laurel,  two  volumes 
of  the  Fugitive  Poetry  of  the  XlXth  Cen- 
tury, is  announced. 

A  Manual  of  the  Land  and  Fresh-water 
Shells  hitherto  discovered  in  Great  Britain, 
is  preparing  from  the  most  perfect  Speci- 
mens in  the  Cabinet  of  the  Author,  W. 
Turton. 

Mr.  Kennedy,  the  Author  of  Fitful 
Fancies,  announces  The  Arrow  and  the 
Rose,  with  other  Poems. 

A  work  on  "  Australia  and  Emigration" 
is  preparing.  By  Robert  Dawson,  Esq. 

Poems  entitled,  "  Lays  from  the  East" 
are  announced.  By  Captain  C.  Campbell. 

A  work  on  the  Celtic  Manners  of  the 
Highlanders,  &c.,  from  the  pen  of  Mr. 
Logan,  will  shortly  appear. 

The  Proprietors  of  the  Friendship's 
Offering  announce  a  Comic  Offering,  under 
the  Superintendence  of  Miss  L.  H.  She- 
ridan. 

Mrs.  J.  S.  Prouse  has  a  volume  of  Mis- 
cellaneous Poems  in  the  press. 

The  Nature  and  Cure  of  Consumption  is 
preparing.  By  James  Kennedy,  M.C.S. 

The  Brazen  Serpent  is  announced.  By 
Thomas  Erskine,  Esq.  Advocate. 

A  History  of  the  Covenanters,  from  the 
Reformation  to  the  Revolution  in  1688,  will 
shortly  appear. 

Lives  of  Captain  Hugh  Clapperton  and 
Dr.  Oudney  are  preparing. 

Scripture  the  Test  of  Character.  An 
Address  to  the  Influential  Classes  of  So- 
ciety. Dedicated  to  the  Queen. 

A  Memoir  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  William 
Ritchie,  Professor  of  Divinity  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Edinburgh. 

Major  Leith  Hay  is  preparing  a  Narra- 
tive of  the  Peninsular  Campaigns,  extend- 
ing over  a  period  of  nearly  six  years'  service 
in  Spain  and  Portugal,  from  1808  to  1814. 


The  French  Keepsake,  embellished  with 
18  Engravings  on  Steel,  will  appear  at  the 
usual  period. 

Elements  of  Greek  Accentuation.  Trans, 
lated  from  the  German  of  Goettling. 

Elements  of  Greek  Prosody.  Translated 
from  the  German  of  Dr.  Franz  Spitzner. 

A  New  Volume  of  the  Transactions  of 
the  King  and  Queen's  College  of  Physicians 
in  Ireland.  Illustrated  with  Engravings. 

The  forthcoming  Volumes  of  Lardner's 
Cyclopsedia  are  the  Military  Memoirs  of 
Arthur,  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  the  Life 
and  Reign  of  George  the  Fourth. 

The  Romantic  Annals  of  France,  from 
the  time  of  Charlemagne  to  the  reign  of 
Louis  XIV.,  will  form  the  New  Series  of 
"  The  Romance  of  History."  By  Leitch 
Ritchie. 

The  Lives  of  the  Italian  Poets.  By  the 
Rev.  Henry  Stebbing,  with  various  medallion 
Portraits,  will  appear  immediately. 

Chartley,  the  Fatalist,  a  Novel,  is  to  be 
published  in  a  few  days. 

Mr.  Britton  is  engaged  on  the  Histories 
and  Illustrations  of  Hereford  and  Worcester 
Cathedrals. 

LIST  OF  NEW  WORKS. 

BIOGRAPHY    AND    HISTORY. 

Memoirs  of  Madame  Du  Barri,  Mistress 
of  Louis  XV.  of  France.  Vol.  III.  3s..  Gd. 

Musical  Memoirs.  By  W.  T.  Parke. 
In  2  vols.  8vo.  18s. 

Dr.  Lardner's  Cabinet  Cyclopaedia,  Vol. 
X.,  being  the  History  of  the  Netherlands, 
by  T.  C.  Grattan,  Esq.  Gs. 

Sir  Hew  Dalrymple's  Memoirs  of  the 
Peninsular  War.  8vo.  9s. 

Newnham's  Views  of  Antiquities  of 
Ireland.  In  2  vols.  4to.  £7.  7s. 

FINE    ARTS. 

Sir  Joseph  Reynolds'  Works,  containing 
312  Engravings.  In  4  vols.  folio.  £42. 
proofs,  £63. 

Fuseli's  Lectures  on  Painting.  Second 
Series.  4to.  21s. 

A  Dictionary  of  the  Architecture  and 
Archaeology  of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  including 
the  Words  used  by  Old  and  Modern 
Authors  in  treating  of  Architectural  and 
other  Antiquities :  with  Etymology,  Defi- 
nition, Description,  and  Historical  Eluci- 
dation. Illustrated  by  numerous  Engravings. 
By  John  Britton,  F.S.A.  Part  I.  royal 
8vo.  12s.  ;  medium  4to.  24s. ;  imperial  4to. 
£1.  11s.  6d. 

Robinson's  Designs  for  Farm  Building, 
royal  4to.  £2.  2s. 

Robinson's  Villa  Architecture,  royal  4to. 
£1.  11s.  Gd. 

Wetten's  Designs  for  Villas,  royal  4to. 
£1.  IGs. 

LAW. 

The  Law  relating  to  Highways,  Turnpike- 
Roads,  &c. ;  with  Precedents  of  Indict- 
ment?, &c.,  for  Nuisances  to  the  same. 


1830.] 


Zist  ofNeri  Works. 


By  John  Egremont,  Esq.  Vol.  II.  8vo. 
7s.  6d. 

Chapman's  Practice  of  the  Superior  Courts 
at  Westminster.  12mo.  3s.  6d. 

Williams's  Abstracts  of  the  Acts  for 
1829-30.  8vo.  8s. 

Rumsey's  Wycombe  Corporation  Case. 
8vo.  12s. 

Greenwood's  New  Forgery  Act  Statutes. 
12mo.  8s. 

MEDICAL. 

On  the  Formation  of  Tumors,  and  the 
Peculiarities  that  are  met  with  in  the  Struc- 
ture of  those  that  have  become  Cancerous. 
By  Sir  Everard  Home,  Bart.  8vo.  with 
plates,  5s. 

Practical  Remarks  on  the  Nature  and 
Effects  of  the  Expressed  Oil  of  the  Croton 
Tiglium ;  with  Cases  illustrative  of  its 
Efficacy  in  the  Cure  of  various  Diseases. 
By  Michael  John  Short,  M.D.  8vo.  5s. 

On  the  Recent  Improvements  in  the  Art 
of  Distinguishing  the  various  Diseases  of 
the  Heart.  By  John  Elliotson,  M.  D. 
folio.  21s. 

Laurence  on  the  Veneral  Diseases  of  the 
Eye.  8vo.  12s. 

Dublin  Medical  Transactions.  New 
Series.  Vol.  I.  post  8vo.  15s. 

Gannel  on  the  Use  of  Chlorine  in  Con- 
sumption. 8vo.  4s. 

A  Rationale  of  the  Laws  of  Cerebral 
Vision ;  comprising  the  Laws  of  Single  and 
of  Erect  Vision.  By  John  Feaine,  Esq. 
8vo.  Cs. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

Economy  of  the  Mouth  and  Teeth. 
18mo.  4s. 

Whole  Art  of  Dress.  18mo.  5s. 

Smart's  New  Literal  Translation  of 
Horace.  12mo.  5s. 

Campbell's  (Lieut.  E.  N.  S.)  Dictionary 
of  Military  Science.  8vo.  10s.  6d. 

Gunter's  Confectioner's  Manuel.  12mo. 
6s.  6d. 

Woodward's  Synoptical  Tables  of  British 
Organic  Remains.  8vo.  5s. 

Northcote's  Conversations.  By  William 
Hazlitt.  post  8vo.  7s.  Gd. 

White's  Natural  History  of  Selborne. 
New  Edition.  By  Sir  W.  Jardine.  12mo. 
6s.  6d. 

Anthologie  Francaise ;  or,  Specimens  of 
French  Poetry,  with  Notes,  &c.  12mo. 
6s.  6d. 

Murray's  Family  Library.  Vol.  XV. 
Contents — History  of  British  India.  (3  vols.) 
Vol.  L,  by  the  Rev.  G.  R.  Gleig.  Vol.  XVI. 
Demonology  and  Witchcraft.  By  Sir  W. 
Scott,  Bart. 

Family  Classical  Library.  No.  IX. 
Virgil,  vol.  II.  18mo.  4s.  6d. 

Obedience.  By  Mrs.  Sherwood.  18mo. 
Is.  6d. 

The  Useful  Little  Girl,  and  the  Little 
Girl  who  was  of  No  Use  at  all.  6d. 

The  Resurt  of  the  General  Election  ;  or, 
What  has  the  Duke  of  Wellington  gained 
by  the  Dissolution  ?  2s. 

M.M.  New  Series VOL,  X.  No.  58. 


481 


Lindley's  Natural  System  of  Botany. 
8vo.  12s. 

The  Child's  Own  Book,  square  18mo. 
7s.  6d. 

Hansard's  Parliamentary  Debates.  Vol. 
XXIII.  royal  8vo.  £1.  10s. 

Biographical  Sketches  and  Authentic 
Anecdotes  of  Horses,  and  the  Allied  Species. 
Illustrated  by  Portraits.  By  Captain  Thomas 
Brown.  12mo.  9s. 

France  in  1829-30.  By  Lady  Morgan. 
In  2  vols.  8vo.  £1.  11s.  6d. 

NOVELS    AND    TALES. 

The  Alexandrians.  An  Egyptian  Tale 
of  the  Fourth  Century.  In  2  vols.  I2mo. 
15s. 

Camden.  A  Tale  of  the  South.  In 
3  vols.  16s.  6d. 

Basil  Barrington  and  his  Times.  A 
Novel.  In  3  vols.  £1.  11s.  6d. 

St.  James.  A  Novel.  By  G.  Best.  In 
2  vols.  21s. 

Legendary  Tales,  in  Verse  and  Prose* 
By  H.  Fox  Talbot,  Esq.  8s.  6d. 

Tales  of  the  Stanley  Family.  12mo* 
5s.  6d. 

Frascati's  ;  or,  Scenes  in  Paris.  In  3  vols. 
27s. 

Agatha  and  Eveline ;  or,  Traits  of  Cha- 
racter. By  Eliza  Vincent  Stinton.  2s. 

POETRY. 

Italy.  By  Samuel  Rogers.  8vo.  with  56 
engravings.  21s.  ;  proofs,  £2.  2s. 

Woman,  a  Satire,  and  Other  Poems. 
By  Wadham  Pembroke.  5s. 

Antediluvian  Sketches  and  Other  Poems. 
By  Richard  Howett.  12mo.  5s. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  the  late  F. 
Sayers,  M.D.,  with  a  Life.  By  W.  Taylor, 
Norwich.  8vo.  10s.  6d. 

Original  Poems.  By  T.  M'Bean,  Esq. 
12mo.  7s.  6d. 

RELIGION,    MORALS,    &C. 

Sermons,  intended  to  shew  a  sober  Ap- 
plication of  Scripture  Principles  to  the 
Realities  of  Life,  by  the  Rev.  John  Millar, 
M.A.  8vo.  12s. 

A  brief  Outline  of  the  Evidences  of  the: 
Christian  Religion.  By  Archibald  Alex- 
ander, D.D.,  of  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
America,  royal  18mo.  2s.  6d. 

Remains  of  the  Right  Rev.  Daniel  Sand- 
ford,  D.D.,  consisting  of  Extracts  from  his 
Diary,  Correspondence,  &c.  &c.,  with  a 
Memoir  of  his  Life.  By  the  Rev.  John 
Sandford.  In  2  vols.  8vo.  21s. 

A  Manual  of  Prayers  in  Easy  Language, 
for  Every  Day  in  the  Week.  By  the  Rev. 
J.  Topham.  Is.  6d. 

An  Essay  on  the  Creation  of  the  Universe; 
and  Evidences  of  the  Existence  of  God. 
By  Charles  Doyne  Sillery,  Esq.  12mo. 
3s.  6d. 

Sermons.  By  the  Rev.  J^  Horden.  8vo. 
5s. 

The  True  Dignity  of  Human  Nature ; 
or,  Man  viewed  in  relation  to  Immortality. 
By  the  Rev.  W.  Davies,  Hastings.  12mo. 
5s. 

3  P 


£    482    ]  [OcT. 

PATENTS  FOR  MECHANICAL  AND  CHEMICAL  INVENTIONS. 


New  Patents  sealed  in  August,  1830. 

To  "William  Mason,  Margaret-street, 
Cavendish-square,  Middlesex,  axletree 
.maker,  for  his  improvements  on  axle- 
trees,  and  also  the  boxes  applicable 
thereto. — 24th  August ;  6  months. 

To  Thomas  Barratt,  St.  Mary  Cray, 
Kent,  paper-maker,  for  his  improve- 
ments on  machinery  for  making  paper. 
— 31st  August;  6  months. 

To  Augustus  Applegarth,  Crayford, 
Kent,  printer,  for  his  improvements  in 
printing  machines.  —  31st  August ;  6 
months. 

To  William  Losh,  Esq.,  Benton- 
house,  Northumberland,  for  his  improve- 
ments in  the  construction  of  wheels  for 
carriages  to  be  used  on  railways. — 31st 
August ;  6  months. 

To  Edwin  Budding,  of  the  Thrupp, 
Stroud,  Gloucester,  machinist,  for  his 
inventing  a  new  combination  and  appli- 
pation  of  machinery,  for  the  purpose  of 
cropping  or  shearing  the  vegetable  sur- 
face of  lawns,  grass-plats  of  pleasure- 
grounds,  &c.  constituting  a  machine 
which  may  be  used  with  advantage,  in- 
stead of  a  scythe,  for  that  purpose. — 31st 
August ;  2  months. 

To  John  Hanson,  Huddersfield,  York, 
plumber  and  brazier,  for  his  improve- 
ments on  locomotive  carriages.  —  31st 
August ;  6  months. 

To  Edwin  Clayton,  Briddleshim-gate, 
Nottingham,  baker,  for  an  improved 
mode  of  manufacturing  dough  or  paste, 
for  the  purpose  of  baking  into  bread. — 
31st  August;  2  months. 

To  Thomas  Thacher,  Birmingham, 
Warwick,  sadler,  for  an  elastic,  self- 
adapting  saddle.  —  7th  September ;  6 
months. 

To  Peter  Williams,  Hollywell,  Flint, 
surgeon,  for  an  apparatus  or  contrivance 
for  preventing  accidents  in  carriages, 
gigs,  and  other  vehicles,  by  instantly 
and  effectually  liberating  horses  or  other 
animals  from  the  same,  when  in  danger 
or  otherwise,  and  for  locking  and  secur- 
ing the  wheels  thereof,  in  cases  of  danger, 
emergency,  or  otherwise. — 7th  Septem- 
ber ;  6  months. 

To  Charles  Blacker  Vignoles,  Furni- 
val's-inn,  London,  and  .John  Ericson, 
Brook-street,  Fitzroy-square,  Middle- 


sex, civil  engineer,  for  certain  additions 
to  the  engines  commonly  called  locomo- 
tive engines. — 7th  September;  6 months. 

To  William  Cook,  Redcross-square, 
Cripplegate,  London,  fine-worker,  for 
his  improvements  on  cocks  for  supplying 
kitchen-ranges  or  cooking  apparatus  with 
water,  and  for  other  purposes — to  be 
called  fountain  cocks. — 7th  September  ; 
6  months. 

To  Henry  George  Pearce,  Liverpool, 
master-mariner,  Richard  Gardner,  and 
Joseph  Gardner,  of  the  same  place, 
for  an  improved  fid. — 7th  September; 
6  months. 

To  James  Chadley,  Gloucester-street, 
Queen-square,  surveyor,  for  his  im- 
provements in  forming  bricks,  tiles,  and 
chimnev-bars,  applicable  to  the  building 
of  the  flues  of  chimnies — 13th  Septem- 
ber; 6  months. 

To  Seth  Smith,  Wilton-crescent,  St. 
George,  Hanover- square,  Middlesex, 
builder,  for  his  improvements  in  chim- 
nies for  dwelling  and  other  houses  and 
buildings. — 14th  September  ;  2  months. 

To  Francis  Molyneaux,  Hampstead, 
Middlesex,  gentleman,  and  William 
Bundy,  Kentish  Town,  machinist,  for 
improvements  in  machinery  for  spinning 
and  twisting  silk  and  wool,  and  for  rov- 
ing, spinning,  and  twisting  cotton,  flax, 
hemp,  and  other  fibrous  substances.— 
21st  September;  six  months. 

To  William  Chard,  of  Hay  wood-house, 
Bordsley-green,  Warwick,  gentleman, 
for  his  improvements  in  the  construction 
of  boats  and  other  vessels,  a  part  of 
which  improvements  are  applicable  to 
the  construction  of  carriages. — 21st  Sep- 
tember ;  six  months. 


List  of  Patents,  which  having  been  granted 
in  the  month  of  October  1816,  expire  in 
the  present  month  of  October  1830. 

14.  Joseph  Kirkman,  London,  for  his 
improved  method  of  applying  an  octave  stop 
to  pianofortes. 

25.  Louis  Fauche  Borel,  London,  for 
his  method  of  making  shoes  and  boots  with- 
out sewing,  so  as  to  keep  out  the  wet. 

—  Lewis  Granholm,  London,  for  his 
method  of  rendering  articles  made  of  hemp 
or  flax  more  durable. 


1  830.] 


483    ] 


BIOGRAPHICAL  MEMOIRS  OF  EMINENT  PERSONS. 


WILLIAM  HUSKISSON,  ESQ.,  M.P. 

Certainly  we  are  not  amongst  those  who 
regarded  Mr.  Huskisson  as  one  of  the 
greatest  men  of  the  age.  His  free-trade 
system,  which  he  probably  imbibed  from 
the  late  Earl  of  Liverpool,  has  been,  and 
will  yet  be,  productive  of  the  most  ruinous 
consequences  ;  and  he  was  one  of  those  who 
sanctioned  and  promoted  the  breaking-up 
of  the  British  Constitution,  by  the  passing 
of  the  Popery  Bill.  However,  though  we 
may  think  lightly  of  him  as  a  politician,  or 
as  a  statesman,  he  was  amiable  as  a  man ; 
and  it  is  impossible  to  contemplate  the 
melancholy  circumstances  of  his  fate,  with- 
out feeling  the  deepest  commiseration  for 
him,  and  for  his  bereaved  widow. 

Mr.  Huskisson  was  born  about  the  year 
1769.  His  mother  was  sister  to  Dr.  Ge- 
rund, physician  to  the  English  embassy  to 
Paris,  and  the  intimate  friend  of  Hebratius 
and  Franklin.  Dr.  Gerund  left  his  niece  a 
considerable  property.  At  the  breaking 
out  of  the  French  revolution,  he  is  said  to 
have  been  in  apprenticeship,  as  a  surgeon, 
at  Paris  ;  and  it  is  further  alleged,  that  he 
became  an  active  and  violent  member  of 
the  Jacobin  Club,  and  subsequently,  of  the 
London  Corresponding  Society.  This  may 
be  all  calumny. 

It  is  understood  to  have  been  at  Paris, 
that  Mr.  Huskisson  was  first  seen  and 
noticed  by  the  Marquess  of  Stafford  ;  and, 
finding  him  to  be  well  acquainted  with 
French  affairs,  of  which  the  English  minis- 
try of  that  period  were  notoriously  ignorant, 
his  lordship  regarded  him  as  a  person  whose 
services  might  be  useful  to  Mr.  Pitt.  To 
Mr.  Pitt,  and  to  Mr.  Dundas,  he  accord- 
ingly introduced  him ;  and  he  became  private 
secretary  to  the  latter.  By  his  talents  and 
assiduity,  he  gave  great  satisfaction  ;  he  was 
placed  in  the  home  department,  under  Mr. 
Dundas ;  and  soon  afterwards,  he  was 
elected  M.  P.  for  the  borough  of  Morpeth, 
with  the  present  Earl  of  Carlisle.  He  mar- 
ried, in  1799,  a  daughter  of  the  late  Admiral 
Milbanke.  On  his  marriage,  Mr.  Dundas 
procured  for  him  a  grant  of  a  pension  to  his 
wife  of  £600  a  year,  the  payment  of  which 
was  to  take  place  at  his  death,  or  on  his 
retirement  from  office.  In  1802,  he  offered 
himself  for  Dover,  with  Mr.  Trevannion 
and  Mr.  Spencer  Smith,  but  was  unsuccess- 
ful. In  1804,  on  the  death  of  Lord  Eliot, 
he  stood  for  Liskeard:  the  return  was  double, 
but  Mr.  Huskisson  was  declared  duly 
elected.  At  a  later  period  he  was  returned 
for  Chichester,  through  the  influence  of  the 
Duke  of  Richmond.  In  the  House  he 
frequently  spoke  upon  financial  affairs,  on 
which  his  information  was  extensive,  if  not 
profound. 

Mr.  Huskisson  was,  in  succession,  ap- 
pointed Receiver-General  of  the  Duchy  of 


Lancaster,  and  a  Commissioner  of  the  Board 
of  Trade.  When  Mr.  Pitt  retired  from 
office,  previously  to  the  formation  of  Mr. 
Addington's  ministry,  he  procured  from 
his  Majesty  a  sign  manual,  granting  to 
Mr.  Huskisson  a  pension  of  £1,200  a  year. 
When  Mr.  Pitt  returned  to  power,  Mr. 
Huskisson  became  chief  Secretary  to  the 
Treasury.  He  retired  from  office  on  the 
formation  of  Mr.  Fox's  cabinet,  but  returned 
with  Mr.  Perceval,  and  resumed  the  secre- 
taryship. In  1809,  when  the  duel  occurred 
between  Lord  Castlereagh  and  Mr.  Can- 
ning, in  consequence  of  differences  which 
arose  out  of  the  ill-fated  Walcheren  expe- 
dition, Mr.  Huskisson  accompanied  the 
latter  in  his  retirement  from  the  adminis- 
tration. He  was  afterwards  President  of 
the  Board  of  Trade ;  and,  under  the  minis- 
try of  his  friend,  Mr.  Canning,  whom  he 
succeeded  as  member  for  Liverpool,  he  was 
appointed  Secretary  for  the  Colonial  De- 
partment. 

Excepting  upon  one  occasion,  we  are  not 
aware  that  Mr.  Huskisson  ever  appeared  in 
print.  He  was  the  author  of  a  pamphlet 
entitled  "  The  Question  concerning  the 
Depreciation  of  our  Currency  stated  and 
examined." 

His  accession  to  the  Wellington  cabinet, 
and  subsequent  dismissal  by  the  military 
Duke,  must  be  yet  full  in  the  recollection 
of  the  reader.  From  the  feeble  and  un- 
settled state  of  the  administration,  however, 
the  friends  of  the  ex-secretary  had  been  for 
some  time  loud  in  their  report  that  he  was 
speedily  to  be  recalled  to  place.  Whether 
the  report  were  well-founded  is  unknown, 
but  it  seems  not  improbable,  as  we  have 
had  proof  sufficient  that  the  premier  is  not 
over  nice  in  his  measures.  Howsoever  it 
might  be,  death  has  prematurely  put  an  end 
to  the  speculation. 

It  was  on  Wednesday,  the  15th  of  Sep- 
tember, as  had  been  previously  arranged, 
that  the  ceremony  of  opening  the  new 
Liverpool  and  Manchester  railway  took 
place.  The  Duke  of  Wellington,  Prince 
Esterhazy,  Earl  Wilton,  Sir  Robert  Peel, 
Mr.  Huskisson,  and  several  other  persons 
of  consideration,  who  had  been  invited  on 
the  occasion,  left  Liverpool,  in  the  splendid 
car  of  the  Northumbrian,  in  grand  proces- 
sion. The  procession  stopped  at  Parkside, 
near  Newton,  to  take  in  fuel  and  water  for 
the  engines,  eight  or  nine  of  which  were 
present.  Here  it  was  that  the  lamentable 
accident  occurred  which  deprived  Mr.  Hus- 
kisson of  life,  and  cast  a  gloom  over  the 
proceedings  of  the  day.  The  parties  had, 
contrary  to  the  request  of  the  proprietors, 
alighted,  and  had  been  engaged  in  desultory 
conversation.  The  rapid  approach  of  the 
Rocket,  another  of  the  engines,  formed  the 
signal  for  them  to  resume  their  stations  on 
3  P  2 


484 


Biographical  Melnoirs  of  Eminent  Persons. 


the  car.  Only  an  instant  before,  Mr.  Hus- 
kisson  had  turned  from  a  gentleman,  ex- 
claiming— "  Well,  I  must  go  and  shake 
hands  with  the  Duke  of  Wellington  on  this 
day  at  any  rate."  He  did  shake  hands  with 
him  very  cordially.  The  rapid  approach  of 
the  car  placed  several  persons  in  jeopardy ; 
amongst  them,  Mr.  Huskisson,  who,  from 
the  narrowness  of  the  way,  was  apprehensive 
of  being  crushed  between  the  two  machines. 
There  were  no  steps  by  which  to  ascend  the 
car ;  and,  in  the  consequent  confusion,  Mr. 
Huskisson,  in  a  second  attempt  to  climb 
over  the  side,  seized  hold  of  the  door,  which 
gave  way,  and  he  was  precipitated  into  the 
road,  his  right  leg  doubled  up  and  getting 
across  the  rail-road  of  the  Rocket,  which 
instantaneously  passed  over  the  leg  and 
thigh  in  that  position.  From  its  velocity, 
it  had  been  impossible  to  stop  the  Rocket 
in  time.  Lord  Wilton  and  others  rushed 
to  the  spot ;  the  door  of  one  of  the  Com- 
pany's adjacent  hovels  was  procured ;  and, 
having  placed  the  sufferer  upon  it,  they 
obtained  the  instant  aid  of  Dr.  Brandreth 
of  Liverpool,  and  Dri  Hunter  of  Edinburgh, 
^ho  happened  to  be  in  the  procession.  A 
temporary  tourniquet  having  been  applied 
to  the  thigh,  he  was  immediately  conveyed, 
upon  one  of  the  engines,  to  the  house  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Blackburne,  at  Eccles.  There 
he  was  laid  up&n  a  couch  ;  but  it  was  found 
unsafe  to  attempt  amputation;  arid,  as  no 
favourable  rallying  of  the  system  occurred,., 
his  sufferings  were  terminated  by  death  at 
nine  in  the  evening.  He  had  previously 
made  some  alteration  in  his  will,  and  had 
received  the  sacrament,  evincing  the  utmost 
fortitude  and  resignation.  As  soon  as  it 
was  ascertained  that  he  was  dead,  Mrs. 
Huskisson,  who  had  witnessed  the  fatal 
accident,  and  had  never  for  a  moment  left 
his  side,  was  removed,  almost  by  force,  into 
another  apartment.  On  the  following  morn- 
ing an  inquest  was  held  upon  the  body  ;  a 
proceeding  which  perfectly  exonerated  the 
conductors  of  the  Rocket  from  all  imputa- 
tion of  blame. 

Under  .  the  dreadful  circumstances  of  the 
case,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  most  properly 
declined  attendance  at  the  splendid  dinner, 
which  had  been  provided  in  honour  of  his 
visit  at  Liverpool. 

On  Saturday,  the  body  was  privately  con- 
veyed from  Eccles  to  Liverpool ;  and  it  was 
subsequently  arranged  that  it  should  be  in- 
terred in  the  new  cemetery  there,  at  the 
expense  of  the  town.  A  subscription  was 
opened  for  defraying  the  expenses  of  the 
funeral,  and  for  raising  a  monument  to  the 
memory  of  the  deceased.  To  those  arrange- 
ments, Mrs.  Huskisson  was  with  difficulty 
prevailed  on  to  assent.  The  funeral  took 
place  on  Friday,  the  24th  of  September,  and 
we  extract  the  following  account  of  it  from 
the  Liverpool  Mercury. 

"  The  funeral,  which  has  just  terminated, 
was  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  public 


spectacles  ever  witnessed  in  thitf  country ; 
and,  indeed,  we  heard  some  gentlemen  who 
have  attended  a  Royal  funeral  at  Windsor, 
declare,  that  of  our  deceased  member  was  a 
more  imposing  sight  of  the  two.  The  num- 
ber of  spectators  sets  all  calculation  at  de- 
fiance. The  windows  of  every  house  in  the 
long  line  of  the  procession,  and  the  roofs  of 
many  of  them,  were  filled  with  spectators. 
In  St.  Peter's  church-yard  the  Blue-coat 
Hospital  children  were  stationed,  while  the 
church  windows  were  crowded.  The  belfry, 
and  the  steeple  also,  contained  as  many  as 
it  could  hold.  Each  lamp-post  had  its 
occupant,  and  the  trees  in  front  of  the 
Lyceum,  and  in  St.  Mark's  church-yard, 
were  bowed  down  with  persons  clinging  to 
every  branch. 

"  The  procession  itself,  which  swelled  as 
it  proceeded,  has  been  calculated,  by  a  com- 
petent judge,  to  amount  to  upwards  of 
sixteen  hundred  gentlemen  in  mourning. 
Outside  of  the  railings,  within  which  this 
procession  moved,  it  has  been  calculated 
that  there  were  upwards  of  sixty  thousand 
spectators  between  the  Exchange  and  the 
Cemetery.  We  shall  not  guess  at  the 
number  of  persons  within  the  Cemetery. 
Every  place  where  there  was  standing-room 
was  occupied,  and  it  is  supposed  that  there 
were  from  twenty  to  thirty  thousand  persons 
looking  on  or  endeavouring  to  get  a  sight 
of  the  ceremony.  The  procession  set  out 
from  the  Town-hall,  at  about  a  quarter  past 
ten  o'clock,  and  reached  its  destination  in 
about  an  hour. 

' '  One  signal  gun  was  fired  when  the 
body  was  put  into  the  hearse,  and  another 
when  the  corpse  entered  the  gates  of  the 
Cemetery. 

"  All  the  arrangements,  which  we  can 
only  glance  at  en  passant,  were  admirable, 
and  reflect  equal  credit  upon  the  managing 
committee,  the  police,  the  undertaker,  and 
upon  the  great  body  of  the  people,  who 
behaved  in  the  most  orderly  and  becoming 
manner. 

"  When  the  procession  arrived  at  the 
Cemetery,  the  great  majority  of  the  gentle- 
men who  formed  it  descended  through  the 
arch  into  the  lower  ground,  where  they  took 
their  stand  on  the  gravel  walks,  whilst 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  party, 
including  the  committee,  clergymen,  and 
some  of  the  gentlemen  connected  with  the 
press,  entered  with  the  hearse  into  the 
Grecian  Chapel,  where  the  funeral  ceremony 
was  performed  with  great  solemnity  and 
effect  by  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Brooks. 

"  The  reading  of  the  burial  service  occu- 
pied about  twelve  minutes,  after  which  the 
committee,  clergy,  and  those  who  were  ad- 
mitted into  the  chapel,  moved  slowly  out, 
and  descending  the  stone  archway,  re- 
paired slowly  and  solemnly  to  the  burying- 
ground  'below,  in  the  centre  lawn.  The 
sight  from  this  place,  looking  upwards,  was 
peculiarly  striking.  When  the  Rev.  Mr. 


1830.] 


Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons. 


485 


Brooks  commenced  -trlat  part  of  the  funeral 
service  which  is  delivered  at  the  grave,  the 
hats  of  thousands  of  the  spectators  were 
instantly  removed,  and  all  eyes  were  bent 
with  intense  interest  towards  the  spot  where 
the  mutilated  remains  of  their  late  es- 
teemed representative  were  about  to  be  con- 
signed to  their  last  home. 

"  Those  who  were  stationed  near  the 
grave  were  evidently  much  affected  by  the 
dosing  scene ;  and  one  of  the  chief  mourners 
(General  Huskisson,)  bedewed  the  grave  of 
his  lamented  brother  with  tears,  which 
never  ceased  to  flow  from  the  commence- 
ment to  the  close  of  this  painful  scene. 

"  At  the  conclusion  of  the  melancholy  and 
imposing  ceremony  a  gun  was  fired ;  the 
procession  then  left  the  ground,  and  the 
assembled  thousands  around  dispersed  after 
paying  the  last  tribute  of  respect  to  the 
memory  of  the  deceased.  We  omitted  to 
mention  in  the  proper  place  that  the  shops, 
public  offices,  &c.  were  closed  until  the 
termination  of  the  ceremony,  and  that  the 
church  bells  were  tolled  during  the  day." 

On  the  day  preceding  the  fatal  accident, 
Mr.  Huskisson  visited  the  Liverpool  Ex- 
change. As  he  passed  through  the  rooms 
he  was  greeted  with  enthusiastic  cheers  ; 
and  afterwards  addressed  the  assembly  in 
a  speech,  of  which  the  following  is  an 
extract  :— 

"  Gentlemen, — This  loyal  town  is  about  to 
receive  the  visit  of  a  distinguished  indivi- 
dual of  the  highest  station  and  influence  in 
the  affairs  of  this  great  country.  I  rejoice 
that  he  is  coming  among  you.  I  am  sure 
that  what  he  has  already  seen  in  this  county, 
and  what  he  will  see  here,  will  not  fail  to 
make  a  great  impression  on  his  mind.  After 
this  visit  he  will  be  better  enabled  to  esti- 
mate the  value  and  importance  of  Liverpool 
in  the  general  scale  of  the  great  interests  of 
this  country.  He  will  see  what  can  be  ef- 
fected by  patient  and  persevering  industry, 
by  enterprise,  and  good  sense,  unaided  by 
monopoly  or  exclusive  privileges,  and  in 
spite  of  their  existence  elsewhere.  Gentle- 
men, he  will,  I  hope,  find  that  if  you  are 
not  friendly  to  monopoly  in  other  places,  it 
is  not  because  you  require  or  want  it  for 
yourselves.  He  will  see  that  you  know  how 
to  thrive  and  prosper  without  it ;  that  all 
you  expect  from  government  is  encourage- 
ment, protection,  facility,  and  freedom  in 
your  several  pursuits  and  avocations,  either 
of  manufacturing  industry  or  commerce.  I 
have  heard,  with  just  satisfaction,  and  from 
many  concurrent  quarters,  that  every  thing 
connected  with  these  interests  is  in  a  more 
healthy  and  promising  state  than  it  was  last 
year.  I  rejoice  at  the  change  for  the  better. 
I  hope  and  believe  it  will  be  permanent. 
But  do  not  let  us  be  supine,  and  think  that 
the  energies  under  which  difficulties  are  di- 
minishing, may  relieve  us  from  the  necessity 
of  unremitting  exertion.  In  foreign  coun- 


tries  you  have  powerful  rivals  to  encounter; 
and  you  can  only  hope  to  continue  your 
superiority  over  them  by  incessantly  labour, 
ing  to  lighten  the  pressure  upon  the  industry 
of  our  own  people,  and  by  promoting  every 
measure  which  is  calculated  to  give  increased 
vigour,  fresh  life  and  greater  facility  to  the 
powers  which  create,  and  to  the  hands  which 
distribute  the  almost  boundless  productions 
of  this  great  country.  I  trust,  gentlemen, 
that  by  a  steady  adherence  to  these  views 
and  principles,  I  shall  most  faithfully  repre- 
sent your  wishes  and  feelings  in  parliament. 
So  long  as  we  are  in  unison  upon  these 
points,  I  shall  be  most  happy  and  proud  to 
continue  to  be  your  representative,  under 
the  sanction  of  your  confidence,  and  as  long 
as  health  and  strength  shall  be  vouchsafed 
to  me  to  fulfil  the  duties  of  the  station 
which  I  now  hold,  as  one  of  your  members 
in  the  House  of  Commons.  I  am  persuaded, 
Gentlemen,  that  by  this  course  I  shall  best 
consult  your  prosperity ;  and  that  whatever 
advances  the  general  interests  of  this  great 
mart  of  commerce,  will  but  advance  all  the 
other  great  interests  of  the  country  ;  and 
first  and  foremost,  that  interest  which  is  the 
oldest  and  the  greatest  of  all — the  landed 
interest,  upon  which,  as  the  example  of  this 
country  so  well  demonstrates,  industry  and 
commerce  have  already  conferred  so  many 
benefits." 

WILLIAM    HAZLITT. 

Mr.  "William  Hazlitt,  from  whose  vigor- 
ous but  eccentric  pen  the  reader  will  find 
two  papers  in  the  present  number  of  the 
Monthly  Magazine,*  and  who  has,  since 
their  reception,  paid  the  great  debt  of  na- 
ture, was  the  son  of  a  dissenting  minister. 
He  was  originally  intended  for  a  painter, 
and  through  life  he  seems  to  have  enter- 
tained an  intense  love  for  the  fine  arts. 
Some  copies  of  his,  from  pictures  in  the 
Louvre,  by  Titian  and  Raphael,  have  been 
spoken  of  as  very  spirited  and  beautiful. 
His  own  feeling,  with  reference  to  the  beau- 
ties of  nature  and  of  art,  especially  in  their 
relationship  to  each  other,  may  be  inferred 
from  this  brief  passage  in  one  of  his  papers : 
— "  One  of  the  most  delightful  parts  of  my 
life  was  one  fine  summer,  when  I  used  to 
walk  out  of  an  evening,  to  catch  the  last 
light  of  the  sun,  gemming  the  green  slopes 
of  the  russet  lawns  and  gilding  tower  or 
tree,  while  the  blue  sky,  gradually  turning 
to  purple  and  gold,  or  skirted  with  dusky 
grey,  hung  its  broad  marble  pavement  over 
all,  as  we  see  it  in  the  great  master  of 
Italian  landscape.  But  to  come  to  a  more 
particular  explanation  of  the  subject : — The 
first  head  I  ever  tried  to  paint  was  an  old 
woman  with  the  upper  part  of  the  face 
shaded  by  her  bonnet,  and  I  certainly  la- 
boured at  it  with  great  perseverance.  It 
took  me  numberless  sittings  to  do  it.  I 
have  it  by  me  stillj  and  sometimes  look  at 

*  See  pages  409  and  445. 


486 


Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons. 


[OCT. 


it  with  surprise,  to  think  how  much  pains 
were  thrown  away  to  little  purpose — yet  not 
altogether  in  vain,  if  it  taught  me  to  see 
good  in  every  thing,  and  to  know  that  there 
is  nothing  vulgar  in  nature,  seen  with  the 
eyes  of  science  or  of  true  art.  Refinement 
creates  beauty  everywhere  :  it  is  the  gross- 
ness  of  the  spectator  that  discovers  nothing 
but  grossness  in  the  object." 

From  some  cause  with  which  we  are 
unacquainted,  Mr.  Hazlitt  was  induced  to 
relinquish  the  pencil  for  the  pen  :  instead 
of  painting  pictures,  it  became  his  delight 
to  criticise  them ;  and  it  must  be  allowed 
that  in  his  critical  strictures,  when  his  strong 
and  violent  prejudices  stood  not  in  the  way 
of  justice,  he  was  one  of  the  most  judici- 
ous, able,  and  powerful  writers  of  his  time. 
"  His  early  education,"  as  a  cotemporary 
has  observed,  "  qualified  him  to  judge  with 
technical  understanding,  and  his  fine  sense 
of  the  grand  and  of  the  beautiful,  enabled 
him  duly  to  appreciate  the  merits  and  defi- 
ciences  of  works  of  art,  and  to  regulate  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  he  contemplated 
their  beauties." 

Mr.  Hazlitt's  first  acknowledged  literary 
production  was  "  An  Essay  on  the  Princi- 
ples of  Human  Action,"  in  which  much 
metaphysical  acuteness  is  said  to  have  been 
displayed.  His  "  Characters  of  Shakspeare's 
Plays,"  though  inferior  in  depth  of  obser- 
vation and  soundness  of  criticism,  to  the 
strictures  of  Schlegel  on  the  productions  of 
our  great  bard,  attracted  much  notice,  and 
obtained  much  credit  for  the  writer.  Mr. 
Hazlitt  delivered,  at  the  Surrey  Institution, 
a  Course  of  Lectures  (afterwards  published) 
on  the  English  Poets.  For  a  time,  he  was 
the  theatrical  critic  of  the  Morning  Chroni- 
cle, and  in  that  paper,  when  Kean  first 
came  before  a  metropolitan  audience,  he 
was  one  of  his  most  strenuous  and  cordial 
supporters.  During  a  long  period,  he  wrote 
political  and  critical  articles  in  the  Exa- 
miner ;  and  he  has  been  an  extensive  con- 
tributor, at  times,  to  our  own  Magazine, 
and  other  periodicals.  Amongst  the 
most  popular  of  his  writings  are  several 
volumes  collected  from  periodical  works, 
under  the  titles  of  "  Table  Talk,"  "  The 
Spirit  of  the  Age,"  and  "  The  Plain 
Speaker."  His  "Round  Table,"  a  series 
of  Essays  which  he  wrote  in  conjunction 
with  Leigh  Hunt,  for  the  Examiner,  was 
regarded  as  a  failure. 

Mr.  Hazlitt's  largest  and  most  elaborate 
performance  is  "  The  Life  of  Napoleon," 
which  is  in  four  volumes.  In  this,  though 
tinged  with  party  feeling,  the  writer  dis- 
plays much  deep  philosophical  remark. 
Mr.  H.  was  one  of  the  writers  in  the 
Supplement  to  the  Encyclopaedia  Bri- 
tannica ;  he  has  also  published  "  Political 
Essays  and  Sketches  of  Public  Charac- 
ters," a  "  View  of  the  British  Stage," 
an  account  of  "  British  Galleries  of  Art," 
"  A  Letter  to  William  Gifford,  Esq.," 


"  Lectures  on  the  English  Comic  Writers, 
delivered  at  the  Surrey  Institution,"  "  The 
Literature  of  the  Elizabethan  Age,"  and 
"  The  Modern  Pygmalion."  As  far  as  we 
can  charge  our  memory  with  a  recollection 
of  this  production,  it  formed  the  history  of 
one  of  the  author's  amours — a  most  extra- 
ordinary one — with  his  own  veritable  love- 
letters,  and  other  documents  equally  delec- 
table and  rechercMe.  . 

Mr.  Hazlitt  recently  published  a  volume 
of  "  Notes  on  a  Journey  through  France 
and  Italy."  At  the  very  moment,  as  it 
were,  of  his  death,  his  last  labour  issued 
from  the  press  in  an  exceedingly  pleasant  and 
amusing  volume,  entitled,  "Conversations 
of  James  Northcote,  Esq.,  R.A.,  by  Wil- 
liam Hazlitt."  For  the  matter  of  the  vo- 
lume, however,  as  may  be  inferred  from  its 
title,  Mr.  Northcote  seems  to  be  chiefly 
answerable.  Many,  if  not  all  of  the  "Con- 
versations," had  previously  appeared,  as 
detached  papers,  in  periodical  publications 
of  the  day. 

Notwithstanding  his  inaccuracies  of  style, 
and  his  love  of  paradox,  Hazlitt  was  a  man 
of  genius.  In  politics  he  was  rather  a  ra- 
dical than  a  whig ;  he  opposed,  with  all  the 
bitterness  of  sarcasm,  the  existing  state  of 
things ;  his  animosities  were  unqualified — 
his  hatred  was  rancorous. 

Mr.  Hazlitt  had,  we  believe,  been  twice 
married.  He  died  in  Frith-street,  Soho,  on 
the  18th  of  September.  His  death  was  occa- 
sioned by  organic  disease  of  the  stomach,  of 
many  years'  standing.  He  retained  the  en- 
tire possession  of  his  faculties  to  the  latest 
moment  of  his  life  ;  and,  almost  free  from 
bodily  pain,  he  died  with  perfect  calmness 
of  mind.  His  funeral,  at  St.  Anne's,  Soho, 
on  the  25th,  was  strictly  private.  The 
report  that  he  died  in  a  state  of  destitution 
is  happily  incorrect.  He  had,  within  two 
or  three  months,  received  considerable  sums 
from  a  great  publishing  house,  for  his 
"  Conversations  of  James  Northcote,"  and 
other  works  ;  and  also  various  other  sums, 
of  consequence  in  the  aggregate,  for  his 
writings  in  periodical  works.  For  the  fu- 
ture support  of  his  son,  the  only  person 
dependant  on  him,  it  is  too  probable  that 
he  had  been  unable  to  make  any  provision. 

MR.  BARRYMORE. 

MR.  BARRYMORE,  who  died  at  Edin- 
burgh, on  the  14th  of  July  last,  at  the  age 
of  72,  will  be  remembered  by  many  of  our 
old  play-going  friends,  as  a  very  useful 
third-rate  performer — chiefly  in  tragedy — 
at  the  theaters  of  Drury-lane  and  the  Hay- 
market.  His  real  name,  we  have  heard, 
was  Blewit.  His  father  was  a  hair-dresser 
at  Taunton,  in  Somersetshire.  Young 
Blewit — or  Barrymore — was  placed  in  the 
counting-house  of  Mr.  Ladbroke,  in  Lon- 
don ;  but,  possessing  a  convivial  turn,  he 
at  once  fell  into  expensive  habits,  and  im- 
bibed a  taste  for  theatrical  pursuits.  For 


1830.] 


Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons. 


487 


these,  his  genteel  appearance,  and  some- 
what pompous  address — which  he  always 
retained — were  considerably  in  his  favour. 
His  entree  on  the  stage  was  made  in  the 
.west  of  England;  but — no  unusual  case — 
so  slight  were  his  emoluments,  that  they 
scarcely  afforded  him  the  means  of  subsis- 
tence. At  length,  he  was  seen  at  Brighton, 
by  the  late  George  Colman.  There,  con- 
.trasted  with  his  brother  actors,  he  appeared 
to  the  modern  Terence  possessed  of  powers 
that  might  be  useful  in  London,  and  he 
was  accordingly  engaged  by  him  for  the 
Haymarket  Theatre.  Mr.  Colman,  how- 
ever, who,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  had 
selected  our  hero  for  his  vocal  powers,  soon 
repented  his  bargain ;  and  Barrymore  was 
dismissed  with  a  pecuniary  compensation 
in  lieu  of  performance.  Fortunately  for 
the  adventurer,  Mr.  Du  Bellamy  about  this 
time  retired  from  the  London  stage;  and, 
in  the  hour  of  distress,  the  proprietor  of 
Drury-lane  Theatre  engaged  him  as  his 
successor,  or  rather  substitute,  until  a  per- 
former of  higher  merit  could  be  found. 
He  made  his  debut  as  Young  Meadows, 
in  Love  in  a  Village;  but  his  reception 
was  not  of  the  most  flattering  nature.  For 
several  years  he  remained  upon  an  insig- 
nificant salary,  appearing  occasionally  in 
tragedy,  comedy,  opera,  farce,  &c.  until  a 
favourable  opening  occurred  by  the  removal 
of  Mr.  Farren,  who  went  to  Coven  t-garden 
Theatre.  Mr.  Barrymore  was  immediately 
invested  with  most  of  his  parts,  which  were 
not  inconsiderable.  By  his  spirited  per- 
formance of  Carlos,  in  Isabella,  he  first 
made  a  favourable  impression  on  the  public. 
Soon  after  this,  Mr.  Bannister,  jun.,  alias 
"  Jack  Bannister" — now,  as  we  have  re- 
cently heard  him  called,  "  old  Mr.  Ban- 
nister,"— happening  to  be  indisposed  at  a 
time  when  he  should  have  personated 
Charles  Oakley,  in  The  Jealous  Wife, 
Barrymore  offered  to  read  that  part,  at  a 
very  short  notice.  He  accordingly  com- 
menced, with  the  book  in  his  hand ;  but, 
putting  it  into  his  pocket,  in  the  second 
act,  and  proceeding  with  great  spirit,  he 
was  rewarded  with  the  most  flattering  ap- 
plause, and  soon  afterwards,  he  obtained  a 
considerable  increase  of  salary.  The  death 


of  Mr.  Brereton,  and  the  desertion  of  Mr. 
Palmer — old  John  Palmer,  who  went  to 
ruin  himself  and  others  at  the  Royalty 
Theatre — concurred  still  further  to  his  ad- 
vancement ;  and,  at  length  he  succeeded  in 
establishing  himself  in  public  favour.  For 
many  seasons  he  was  a  leading  actor  at  the 
Haymarket.  The  most  effective  part,  how- 
ever, that  we  recollect  having  seen  him 
perform,  was  that  of  Osmond,  in  Monk 
Lewis's  melo-dramatic  play  of  The  Castle 
Spectre. 

Barrymore's  figure  and  face  were  unex- 
ceptionable ;  his  voice  was  clear  and  strong; 
but  his  action  and  deportment  were  con- 
strained ;  and,  in  his  conception  of  charac- 
ter, there  was  little  of  intellectual  discrimi- 
nation— in  his  performance,  little  of  the 
electric  fire  of  genius. 

Mr.  Barrymore  had  several  years  retired 
from  the  stage.  His  son  is  considered 
skilful  in  the  arrangement  of  pantomime 
and  spectacle ;  and  has,  we  believe,  been 
engaged  in  the  management  of  many  of  the 
minor  theatres. 

EDWARD    FERRERS,    ESQ. 

In  August,  at  his  seat,  Baddesley  Clin- 
ton, Warwickshire,  died  Edward  Ferrers, 
Esq.  This  gentleman  entered,  in  1809,  into 
the  Warwickshire  Militia,  in  which,  at  the 
period  of  his  decease,  he  held  the  rank  of 
major.  He  contracted,  in  1813,  a  matri- 
monial alliance  with  the  Lady  Henrietta- 
Anne,  second  daughter  of  the  Marquess 
Townshend.  In  a  man  of  Mr.  Ferrers's 
good  sense,  adventitious  circumstances,  the 
gifts  of  fortune,  and  a  genealogy  exhibit- 
ing a  long  line  of  illustrious  ancestry,  pro- 
duced only  the  most  salutary  influence ;  for, 
while  he  traced,  as  emblazoned  on  the  win- 
dows of  his  ancient  hall,  a  direct  descent 
from  the  heroes  of  the  Norman  conquest, 
and  intermarriages  with  not  a  few  of  the 
highest  families  of  England,  these  acces- 
sories served  not  to  foster  a  sickly  vanity, 
but  to  kindle  in  his  breast  an  ambition  of 
embodying  in  their  representative,  so  far  as 
might  be,  an  unimpaired,,  yet  perfectly 
unostentatious  pattern,  of  the  vera  nobi- 
litas. 


[    488    ]  [OCT. 

MONTHLY  AGRICULTURAL  REPORT. 

THE  same  variable  weather,  characteristic  of  the  whole  past  season,  continues;  perpetual 
and  quick  alternations  of  wet  and  dry,  heat  and  cold.  The  quality  of  the  corn  will  necetf-. 
sarily  partake  of  this  variety  in  the  season.  Corn,  fortunately  dried  in  the  fields,  will  be  a 
fine  sample ;  but  the  greater  part,  it  is  to  be  feared,  has  not  shared  that  good  fortune. 
Nor  ought  blame  to  be  cast  too  hastily  on  the  farmer  for  clearing  his  lands  on  the  first 
appearance  of  fair  weather,  the  corn  being  in  a  questionable  state ;  since,  aware  of  the 
variable  character  of  the  season,  he  made  choice  of,  in  his  judgment,  the  minor  evil,  dread- 
ing most  a  repetition  of  moisture.  Thus  far,  the  accounts  of  superabundance,  particularly 
in  the  wheat  crop,  are  fully  maintained,  and  that  part  which  has  been  saved  in  good  con- 
dition will  prove  a  .heavy  and  fine  sample.  The  present  year  has  run  counter  to  an  old 
saw.  We  always  said,  after  our  grandfathers — a  a  dry  summer  for  the  wheat  crop." 
Now,  our  fanning  sages  attribute  the  weight  and  goodness  of  the  wheat  to  the  fertilizing 
quality  of  the  rains,  an  effect  which  they  have  indubitably  had  upon  poor,  sandy,  and  arid 
lands  ;  and  the  uncommon  large  produce  of  such  inferior  soils  has  helped,  in  a  material 
degree,  to  augment  the  national  stock.  The  great  wonder  is,  how  lands,  loaded  and 
exhausted  as  our's  almost  universally  are,  could,  possibly,  in  such  a  state,  bear  so  abun- 
dant a  produce.  As  there  is  scarcely  ever  a  benefit  without  its  countervailing  evil,  may 
we  not  apprehend  that  such  an  anomaly  will  have  the  unfortunate  effect  on  the  minds  of 
our  farmers,  as  to  persuade  them  that  clearing  land  is  labour  and  expense  cast  to  the 
winds.  It  would  seem,  however,  that  few  of  them  need  any  persuasion  to  such  effect. 
The  continent,  according  to  recent  accounts,  has  not  shared  our  good  fortune.  In  Russia, 
and  the  northern  parts  of  Germany,  the  crops  have  failed.  The  government  of  France 
has  forbidden  exportation  ;  and  as  the  crops  have  also  failed  to  the  southward,  there  will  be 
a  considerable  demand  for  exportation  to  the  Mediterranean.  This  will  cheer  our  farmers 
by  its  necessary  effect  of  preventing  prices  from  suffering  that  great  reduction  which  has  so 
long  been  expected  in  our  markets.  They  have  not,  indeed,  hitherto  been  overstocked  with 
new  wheat,  little  of  which  has  been  offered  in  a  fit  condition  for  grinding.  It  will  be  to 
the  interest  of  the  landlords  to  be  as  forbearing  as  possible  in  the  collection  of  their 
Christmas  rents,  that  their  tenantry  may  be  enabled  to  hold  their  corn  for  an  improvement 
of  its  condition  and  for  a  market. 

Harvest  will  be  protracted  to  a  still  later  period  than  we  stated  in  our  last  report : 
according  to  our  latest  letters  from  the  northern  extremities  of  the  country,  there  is  corn, 
particularly  oats,  which  has  not  yet  assumed  the  harvest  yellow — such  will  not  be  cut 
until  nearly  the  middle  of  next  month.  Wheat  sowing  will  be  necessarily  late  this  year, 
during  the  whole  of  which,  harvest  operations,  instead  of  following  in  usual  and  regular 
succession,  have  run  one  into  the  other.  The  low  clay  lands,  foul  as  they  are,  will  work 
badly,  and  being  so  sodden  with  wet,  it  will  be  almost  impracticable  to  draw  any  manure 
upon  them.  Both  oats  and  barley,  though  failing  upon  "many  parts  of  the  poor  soils,  it 
is  supposed,  will  be  generally  large  crops ;  but  of  the  latter,  fine  malting  samples,  which 
begin  already  to  be  inquired  for,  will  not  be  abundant.  Where  oats  have  succeeded, 
they  are  said  to  be  the  largest  crop  within  memory,  both  in  corn  and  straw.  Lattamath 
turnips,  on  some  favoured  soils,  are  spoken  well  of,  and  are  said  on  others  to  have  made  a 
poor  progress.  The  turnips,  though  they  escaped  the  fly,  are  very  backward  in  the  bulb. 
The  seeds  have  not  greatly  improved  from  want  of  a  genial  summer  warmth,  and  the 
young  clovers  have  been  pinched,  and  even  mildewed,  and  the  potatoe  haulm  blacked  by 
the  severity  of  the  night  air.  Quantity,  not  quality,  will  be  the  characteristic  of  the 
meadow  clover,  and  sainfoin  hays  of  the  present  year.  A  decisive  opinion  of  the  bean  crop  is 
not  yet  given,  but  there  seems  little  apprehension  of  a  failure ;  as  to  pease,  they  are 
estimated  at  half  a  crop.  Of  potatoes  the  supply  will  be  satisfactory,  both  in  quantity^ 
and  quality.  Of  hops  no  hope  exists  of  any  thing  like  a  crop.  As  to  fruit,  as  well  as 
other  produce,  we  sages  have  most  happily  enacted  the  Comedy  of  Errors  ;  instead  of 
the  predicted  scarcity,  or  almost  fruit  famine,  we  hear  of  so  great  abundance  in  some 
parts  of  the  country,  Suffolk  particularly,  that  the  growers  scarcely  know  what  to  do 
with  it ;  and  Covent-garden  Market  exhibits  such  plenty  and  variety  of  every  species, 
that  as  a  spectacle  it  is  most  pleasant  and  exhilarating.  The  plenty  of  all  culinary 
vegetables  is  most  ample. 

On  the  whole  our  accounts  from  the  country  are  by  no  means  of  that  despairing  tone 
which  so  generally  prevailed  a  few  months  past.  With  some  exceptions,  we  look  upon 
them  as  rather  consolatory  and  promising.  We  lately  noticed  a  favourable  change  in  the 
sentiments  of  our  Berkshire  friends,  who  had  previously  been  amongst  the  loudest  com- 
plainants ;  as  to  those  of  Herts  they  had  never  despaired,  and  are  now  declaiming  in  heroics 
on  the  immense  productions  of  the  present  season,  and  the  goodness  of  the  times,  won- 
dering at,  and  even  doubting  the  just  grounds  of  complaint  in  other  districts ;  like  a 
certain  class  of  doctors,  who,  blessed  with  a  robust  constitution  themselves,  prescribe  the 
strongest  remedies  to  all  patients  alike.  Herts  is  a  fine,  light  and  profitable  country  to 
farm  in,  and  profits  much  by  the  culture  of  kitchen  vegetables.  From  Lincolnshire  also, 
the  accounts  are  favourable,  and  the  harvest  described  as  the  most  successful  and  pleasant 
both  to  farmer  and  labourer. 

From  the  cattle  and  horse  markets,  little  of  novelty  presents.     Pigs,  it  seems,  have 


1830.]  Agricultural  Report.  489 

taken  a  start,  and  are  determined  to  be  once  more  worth  breeding.  All  the  great  marts 
and  fairs  have  been,  as  usual,  overstocked  with  cattle,  and  a  difficulty  experienced  of 
converting  any  but  of  prime  quality,  into  money ;  in  the  meantime,  the  breeders  complain 
they  are  too  cheap,  whilst  the  purchasing  graziers  insist  they  are  too  dear.  It  remains 
for  the  consumers  to  prove  them  both  in  the  wrong,  Sheep  are  most  in  request,  a$  the 
rot  must,  in  some  degree,  have  diminished  their  numbers.  Of  horses,  the  story  is  one 
already  ten  times  told.  Wool,  dead  and  brined  so  long,  has  not  only  encountered  resur- 
rection, but  is  making  a  start  to  grace  and  cheer  every  succeeding  report. 

Now  for  our  memorabilia.  Our  letters  yet  continue  to  question  strongly  the  presumed 
great  benefits  of  mangold,  in  the  usual  cumbersome  phraseology,  called  mangel-wurzel ; 
and  to  assert  the  superiority  (undoubtedly  so  in  quality}  of  rutabaga,  or  the  Swedish 
turnip.  Of^Cobbett's  corn,  maize,  actum  est,  it  has  fallen  a  second  time,  very  pro- 
bably, to  rise  no  more.  He  should  have  known  that  experiment  was  made  of  it  in  Arthur 
Young's  early  days,  when  it  was  weighed  in  the  experimental  balance,  and  found  wanting. 
But  Cobbett  is  a  man  of  first  impressions,  with  which  he  generally  scorns  to  enter  into  any 
arguments  on  insignificant  topics  of  right  and  wrong.  We  have  lately  been  favoured  with 
a  long  scientific  article  from  the  north,  on  the  fly,  and  on  drugs  for  the  prevention  of 
diseases  in  corn,  chiefly  the  mildew.  Knowledge  of  the  remedies,  it  seems,  has  been  lately 
imported  from  Flanders,  to  wit,  verdigrease,  blue  vitriol,  arsenic,  and  the  nostrums  of 
certain  druggists,  the  composition  of  which  is  not  to  be  divulged.  Now,  the  aforesaid 
drugs,  with  a  long  additional  list,  were  tried  in  this  country,  more  than  half  a  century 
past,  as  preventives  of  smut,  but  soon  laid  aside,  on  a  preference  of  the  old  remedy  of 
simply  brining  and  liming.  There  has  long  been  a  party,  particularly  in  Scotland,  whb 
assign  all  the  maladies  of  corn  to  a  seminal  origin  exclusively,  or  to  the  operations  of 
insects  ;  in  the  latter  case,  allowing  the  insects  their  share  in  the  mischief,  the  figure  of 
hysteron  proteron,  or  setting  the  cart  before  the  horse,  is  palpably  obvious ;  for  no  man 
ever  saw  original  blight  insects  upon  sound  and  unblighted  corn.  The  transformed  fly, 
indeed,  or  aphis,  may  be  seen  upon  the  corn,  but  so  far  as  we  have  hitherto  observed, 
without  evidence  of  any  damage ;  the  Scotch  fly  may,  peradventure,  be  of  a  more  voracious, 
and  dangerous  character ;  surely  so,  indeed,  since  it  is  said  in  the  present  season  to  have 
trespassed  on  the  wheats,  to  the  serious  amount  of  one  quarter  per  acre. 

We  are  far  from  disputing  the  possibility  of  a  seminal  origin,  and  the  power  of  infection 
in  impure  seed,  although  formerly  we  did  question  the  probability  of  it  in  the  case  of 
smut,  on  the  strength  of  our  own,  and  the  experience  of  others,  and  most  particularly  on 
the  apparently  decisive  experiments  of  Sir  John  Call,  and  the  known  fact  that  harvests, 
in  which  smut  and  all  the  varieties  of  malady  in  corn  had  prevailed,  and,  of  course,  much 
impure  seed  had  been  sown,  were  immediately  succeeded  by  others,  in  which  the  corn  was 
harvested  in  its  usual  purity.  Neither  do  we  pretend  to  deny  the  possible  use  of  preventive 
remedies,  one  case  only  being  excepted,  which  is,  their  being  opposed  by  a  blighting  season, 
when  their  utmost  power  will  be  of  no  avail;  for  although  they  may  have  destroyed  the 
seminal  infection,  they  are  utterly  powerless  when  opposed  to  the  infection  of  the  atmoT 
sphere.  This  view  need  not  be  styled  theoretical,  since  the  actual  facts  are  open  and 
obvious  to  all  who  will  take  the  pains  to  make  use  of  their  eyesight  and  assiduity, 
pains  which  we  imposed  upon  ourselves  formerly  during  nearly  twenty  years,  we  may 
venture  to  say,  almost  daily.  Wheat  shall  be  in  the  most  blooming  and  glossy  state 
of  health,  colour  and  luxuriance,  a  blighting  wind  shall  arise,  attended  with  cold  and 
moisture,  continuing  for  several  days :  the  first  symptoms  of  blight  is  a  Joss  of  co- 
lour and  gloss  or  burnish,  next  a  roughness  of  the  surface  of  the  leaf  is  superinduced  ; 
should  a  timely  and  favourable  change  succeed,  the  symptoms  of  early  blight  soon 
vanish,  and  the  previous  luxuriance  returns ;  but  should  the  atmospheric  rigour  continue 
to  the  length  of  time  required  to  mature  vegetable  disease,  happily  not  often  the  case  in 
our  climate,  it  proceeds  in  due  course  through  all  its  varieties,  well  known  by  the  terms 
mildew,  rust,  brand,  and  smut.  What  countryman  can  have  been  unobservant  of  such  effects 
in  a  blighting  season,  and  of  the  opposite  in  a  genial  one  ?  Our  seminal  critics  may,  indeed, 
pass  scurvy  jests  upon  the  wind,  as  did  their  predecessors  in  Gil  Bias,  on  another  occasion  ; 
but  the  former  will  be  found  in  an  equal  dilemma  with  the  latter.  A  cold  and  damp 
wind,  particularly  from  the  east  and  north,  is  the  prime  agent  in  all  vegetable  maladies. 
Nevertheless,  we  have  some  few  unfortunate  lands  in  this  country  which,  from  the  coldness 
and  dampness  of  the  soil  and  of  the  surrounding  atmosphere,  seldom  fail  to  produce 
diseased  grain,  even  in  the  most  genial  seasons. 

Erratum  in  our  last  report — chilled  for  drilled. 

Smithfield—Beef2s.  6d.  to  3s.  8d — Mutton,  2s.  8d.  to  4s.  2d — Veal,  3s.  8d.  to  4s.  8d. 
— Pork,  4s.  to  5s.  dairy — Lamb,  3s.  8d.  to  4s.  2d. — Rough  fat,  2s.  4d.  per  stone. 

Corn  Exchange — Wheat,  48s.  to  78s. — Barley,  (grinding)  26s.  to  38s. — Oats,  20s. 
to  33s.— London  4  Ib.  Loaf,  10d — Hay,  42s.  to  105s.  per  load. — Clover,  ditto,  70s, 
to  115s.— Straw,  30s.  to  42s. 

Coals  in  the  Pool,  28s.  7d.  to  36s.  per  chaldron. 

Middlesex,  September  20. 
M.1M.  Neiv  Series — VOL.  X.  No.  58.  3  Q 


[    490    3  [OCT. 

MONTHLY  COMMERCIAL  REPORT. 

SUGAR. — The  market  was  rather  dull  last  week,  but  prices  were  well  supported  : 
the  sales  were  estimated  at  2,500  hogsheads  and  tierces.  The  deliveries  of  West 
India  last  week  were  very  large,  4,075  hogsheads  and  tierces,  being  483  less  than 
last  year ;  and  of  Mauritius,  4,996  bags,  being  1,337  bags  more  than  the  correspond- 
ing week  of  last  year.  Goods  suitable  for  home  supply  are  but  small,  but  the 
demand  lately  has  been  limited  ;  the  refined  is  very  dull;  Molasses  Is.  lower,  and 
dull.  Havannah  sugar  consists  of  a  rather  large  parcel  of  white  by  private  con- 
tract, at  a  reduction  of  Is.,  30s.,  and  41s. ;  some  brown,  20s.  and  22s.  6d. ;  and  some 
yellow,  24s.  and  26s.  6d.  There  were  no  sales  of  Brazil  sugar.  About  4,000  bags 
of  Mauritius  sold  last  week  at  rather  higher  rates.  Bengal  sugar  of  the  late  sale, 
Is.  6d.  profit.  At  a  late  public  sale  3,374  bags  of  Mauritius  sugar ;  the  whole  went 
off  heavily  at  a  reduction  of  Cd .  to  Is.  per  cwt.  -  West  India  Molasses.  It  is  reported 
a  sale  has  been  affected  at  Is.  reduction  ;  350  puncheons  new  St.  Vincents,  22s.  6d.  ; 
Trinidad,  22s. 

COFFEE.— St.  Domingo  coffee  sold  good  ordinary  at  34s.  By  public  sale  about 
250  casks  of  Jamaica  sold  freely,  maintaining  the  late  advance,  chiefly  fine  ordinary 
to  fine  fine  ordinary,  43s.  and  50s. ;  large  parcels  of  Demerara  and  Berbice,  42s. 
and  48s.  At  public  sales  244  casks,  451  bags,  British  plantation,  1,307  bags  St. 
Domingo ;  the  latter  ordinary  and  fair  ordinary,  for  which  there  were  no  offers 
made  above  28s.  6d. ;  the  Jamaica  heavily  at  a  reduction  of  Is.  and  2s.  The 
Colonial  markets  are  dull. 

RUM,  BRANDY,  HOLLANDS. — The  sales  of  proof  Leewards,  about  19,  have  been 
considerable ;  the  market  looks  firm ;  several  contracts  for  Jamaica  are  also 
reported,  2s.  10d.,  and  3s.  2d.  The  purchases  of  Brandy  have  been  more  extensive 
than  usual ;  first  marks  4s.  8d.  and  4s.  9d.,  and  yesterday  5s.  was  paid.  In  Geneva 
there  is  no  alteration. 

HEMP,  FLAX,  AND  TALLOW. — The  Tallow  market  is  dull.  The  ships  passing 
the  Sound  are  more  numerous  than  was  expected ;  the  prices  of  Tallow  are  in 
consequence  rather  lower,  and  the  market  is  dull.  Flax  is  without  variation ; 
Hemp  rather  lower. 

Course  of  Foreign  Exchange. — Amsterdam,  12.  5^. — Rotterdam,  12.  6 — Antwerp, 

12.5. — Hamburg,  13.14. — Altona,  00.  00. — Paris,  25.55 Bordeaux,  25.  85 

Berlin,  0.— Frankfort-on-the-M  ain,  153.  0.— Petersburg,  10.  0.— Vienna,  10.  12 

Trieste,  00.  00  —Madrid,  36. 0.— Cadiz,  36.  Of.— Bilboa,  36.  0.— Barcelona,  36.  0.~- 
Seville,  36.  OJ. — Gibraltar,  47.  0£. — Leghorn,  48.  0.— Genoa,  25.70. — Venice, 
46.  0.— Malta,  48.  O^.— Naples,  39.  0^.— Palermo,  118.01.— Lisbon,  44f.— Oporto, 
44.  Of.— Rio  Janeiro,  22.  0.— Bahia,  28.  0.— Dublin,  1.  0|.— Cork,  1.  04. 

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

Premiums  on  Shares  and  Canals,  and  Joint  Stock  Companies,  at  the  Office  of 
WOLFE,  Brothers,  23,  Change  Alley,  Cornhill. — Birmingham  CANAL,  (£  sh.)  292/. — 
Coventry,  850?. — Ellesmere  and  Chester,  90/.— Grand  Junction,  270J — Kennet  and 
Avon,  OO/. — Leeds  and  Liverpool,  455/. — Oxford,  635/. — Regent's,  24J. — Trent  and 
Mersey,  (J  sh.)  750/ — Warwick  and  Birmingham,  280/. — London  DOCKS  (Stock), 
77|/._ West  India  (Stock),  190£— East  London  WATER  WORKS,  126/.— Grand 
Junction,  61  / — West  Middlesex,  80/.— Alliance  British  and  Foreign  INSURANCE, 
0^.~Globe,  154|/.— Guardian,  28£/.— Hope  Life,  Of/.— Imperial  Fire,  118/.— GAS- 
LIGHT Westminster,  chartered  Company,  60  J.— City,  19U. — British,  1|  dis — 
Leeds,  195J. 

ALPHABETICAL  LIST  OF  BANKRUPTCIES, 

Announced  from  August  23d,  to  September  23d,  1830,  in  the  London  Gazette. 

BANKRUPTCIES  SUPERSEDED.  BANKRUPTCIES. 

J.  English,  Strand,  hosier  [This  Month  82.1 

J.   Barker,    High    Holborn,  straw-hat-manufac-  „  ,.  .,      ,__                    .      „           . 

turer  solicitors  Names  are  in  Parentheses. 

S.    Grovenor,    Wood  street,    silk-hat-manufac-  Ashton,  J.,  Liverpool,  wine-merchant.    (Black- 

turer  stock  and  Co.,  Temple 

J.  Hutchison,  Liverpool,  merchant  Ascliersleben,    F.    K.,   .Austin-friars,    merchant. 

M.  Whitaker,  Esholt,  worsted-stuff-manufacturer  f  Hoppe,  Sun-court 

Berncastle,    Nathan    Soloman,    and    Solomon,  Bell,  J.,  Liverpool,  master-mariner.    (Norris  and 

1   Brighton  and  Lewes,  jewellers.  Co.,  John-street 


1830.] 


List  of  Bankrupts. 


491 


Bryan,  T.,  Mincing-lane,  wine-broker.  (Jones, 
Princes-street 

Bullock,  J.,  Featherstone-street,  ironmonger. 
(Sharpe  and  Co.,  Old  Jewry 

Burton,  J.,  Nottingham,  Htone-mason.  (Wjllett 
and  Co.,  Essex-street  ;  Fox,  Nottingham 

Bunn,  ('.,  Birmingham,  gilt-toy-maker.  (Austen 
and  Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Arnold  and  Co.,  Birming- 
ham 

JJriarly,  A.,  Kirton -in  -  Lindsey,  innkeeper. 
(Browne,  Mitre-chambers  ;  Thorpe  and  Co., 
Kirton-in-Lindsey 

Battersby.  A.,  Liverpool,  builder.  (Smith,  Chan- 
cery-lane ;  Bristow,  Liverpool 

.Barrow,  A.,  Kirkland,  innkeeper.  (Thompson, 
Lincoln's-inn-rields  ;  Wilson,  Kendal 

Brattan,  E.,  NurMiwich,  upholsterer.  (Roarke, 
Furnival's-inn;  Barker  and  Son,  Northwich 

Baley.  T.,  Giltspur- street,  baker.  (Hill,  Alder- 
manbury 

Bradley,  G.,  Leeds,  brass-founder.  (Smith,  Son, 
and  Co.,  New-inn  ;  Dunning,  Leeds 

Barnett,  J.,  Carrickfergns,  merchant.  (Lowe, 
Southampton-buildings  ;  Hurry,  jun.,  Liverpool 

Chase,  J.,  Chiswell-street,  apothecary.  (Hind- 
marsh  and  Son,  Cripplegate 

Cleaver,  S.,  Hungerford-market,  cement-maker. 
(Brooks,  Furnival's-inn 

Cox,  H.,  Sheffield,  grocer.  (Capes,  Gray's  inn  ; 
Copeland,  Sheffield 

Cunningham,  J.,  Bristol,  shopkeeper.  (Evans 
and  Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Haberneld,  Bristol 

Comley,  G,,  and  G.  Jones,  and  T1.  Hathaway, 
Uley,  clothiers.  (Tanner,  New  Basinghall- 
street 

Chater,  E.,  jun.,  Lambeth,  coal-merchant.  (Ma- 
dox,  Austin-friars 

Clegg,  B.,  Oldham,  victualler.  (Bower,  Chancery- 
lane;  Radley  and  Co.,  Oldham 

Clark,  J.,  Keynsham,  basket-maker.  .(Ivimey, 
Harpur-street 

Davie?,  R.,  Lisle-street,  coal-merchant.  (George, 
Doctors'-commons 

Drake,  G.  P.,  Stepney-green,  carpenter.  (Wil- 
liams, Copthal -court 

Dry,  T.,  Tottenham-court-road,  linen-draper. 
(Sole,  Aldermanbury 

Drake,  W.  W.,  Snow -hill,  feather-merchant. 
CSoames,  Great  Winchester-street 

Edge,  M.,  Stockport,  shopkeeper.  (Fyler,  Tem- 
ple ;  Hunt  and  Co.,  Stockport 

Elliott,  T.,  jun.,  Goswell- street,  tool -maker. 
(Aston,  Old  Bond-street 

Flacke,  N.  B.,  Lambeth,  livery-stable-keeper. 
(Rogers,  Manchester-buildings 

Gregson,  J.  S.,  Manchester,  bookseller.  (Few 
and  Co.,  Henrietta-street ;  Mousley  and  Co., 
Derby 

Gillgrass,  J.,  Morley,  woollen  -cl,oth- manufac- 
turer. (Spence  and  Co.,  Size-lane  ;  Scholeneld 
and  Co.,  Leeds 

Gray,  J.,  (late  of  Calais,)  Islington,  banker. 
(Sharpe  and  Co.,  Old  Jewry 

Guyenette,  F.  J.,  and  S.  Geary,  Liverpool-street, 
and  S.  Geary,  Weston-street,  builders.  (Smith, 
Cannon-street 

Gorton,  T.,  jun.,  Pimlico,  bookseller.  (Druce  and 
Sons,  Biliiter-square 

Garnett,  J.,  Sbap,  innkeeper,    (Addison,  Gray's- 

f^"  inn 

Hedge,  N.,  Colchester,  jeweller.  (Stephens  and 
Co.,  London ;  Sparling,  Colchester 

Handley,  W.,  Birmingham,  saddler.  (Norton 
and  Co.,  Gray's-inn;  Hawkins  and  Co.,  Bir- 
mingham 

Jay,  J.,  Broad  -  street,  upholsterer.  (Hamilton 
and  Co.,  Berwick-street 

Jarrett,  J.,  and  P.  T.  Tadman,  Fenchurch-street, 
merchants.  (Dicas,  Basinghall-street 

Johnson,  C.,  Leeds,  victualler.  (Cbell,  Clement's- 
inn ;  Bean,  Leeds 

Kay,  W.,  Ripon,  saddler.  (Lawrence,  Lincoln's- 
inn-fields;  Wyche,Ripon 

Keymer,  T.,  Colchester,  woollen-draper.  (Big- 
nold  and  Co.,  Bridge-street ;  Serjeant  and  Co., 
Colchester 

Kerfoot,  R.,  Manchester,  builder.  (Ellis  and  Co., 
Chancery-lane ;  Morris,  Wigan 


Lanza,  G.,  St.  Pancras,  publisher  of  music. 
(Duncan,  Lincoln's-lnn-tielda 

Lloyd,  J.,  Peckhaui-Rye,  victualler.  (Murphy, 
Royal  Exchange 

Liddel,  J.,  Kensington,  merchant.  (Shephard 
and  Co.,  Cloak-lane 

Mawden,  G.  B.,  and  T.  Mather,  Manchester,  up- 
Jiolsterers.  (Bosscr  and  Son,  Gray's-inn  place  ; 
Warren,  Market-Drayton 

Moore,  G.  C.,  Blakeney,  grocer.  (King,  Ser- 
jeant's-inn  ;  Shad horn,  Newnham 

M'Ghie,  Eliza,  and  Wakefield,  Anne,  Manchester, 
tniliners.  (Applebyand  Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Monk, 
Manchester 

Mitchell,  R.,  Crayford,  farmer.  (Young  and  Co., 
Blackman-strcet 

Matarol,  W.  G.,  late  of  Pancras-lane,  dealer  and 
chapman.  (Whiting,  Southwark 

Neve,  A.,  Portsea,  linen-draper.  (Ivimey,  Har- 
pur-f  trect ;  Low,  Portsea 

Powell,  J.  C.,  Chiswell-street,  surgeon.  (Hind- 
marsh  and  Son,  Crescent 

Parris,  J.  F.,  Maida  Hill,  brick-maker.  (Davies, 
Devonshire-square 

Paylor,  W.,  Knaresborough,  confectioner.  (Black- 
stock  and  Co.,  Temple  ;  Bardswell,  Liverpool 

Poole,  T.,  Fore-street,  linen  draper.  (Fisher, 
Walbrook 

Parker,  J.,  Oxford-street,  linen-draper.  (Jones, 
Size  lane 

Rr>bottom,  J,,  James-street,  coffee-housekeeper. 
(Yates  and  Co.,  St.  Mary  Axe 

Ridley,  W.,  Wreckenton,  miller.  (Bell  and  Co., 
Bow  church-yard ;  Dawson,  Newcastle-upon- 
Tyne 

Robson,  E.,  South  Shields,  boat-builder.  (Burn, 
Doctors'-commous ;  Bownas,  Newcastle-upon- 
Tyne 

Reed,  R.,  Birmingham,  gun-maker.  (Alexander 
and  Son,  Carey-street ;  Lee  and  Co.,  Birming- 
ham 

Richards,  T,,  Manchester,  corn-merchant.  (Hufd 
and  Co. .Temple;  Wood,  Manchester 

Rocke,  C.  A.,  Tenbury,  horse-dealer.  (Williams, 
Gray's- inn-road 

Skinner,  W.,  Wilmington  -  square, 
&c.     (Walker  and  Co.,  Lincoln's-inn-lields 

Shoyer,  W.,  Westin-super-mare,  grocer.  (Brit- 
tan,  Basinghall  street ;  Bevan  and  Co.,  Bristol 

Symmons,  G.,  Atherstone,  bookseller.  (Wright, 
Alie-street 

Scruton,  W.,  St.  George's,  East,  victualler.  (Mar- 
son,  Newington,  Surrey 

Smith,  J.,  Winchester,  miller.  (Dawson  and  Co., 
New  Boswell-court  ;  Lee,  Winchester 

Simons,  H.,  Blackmore,  grocer.  (Clark  and  Co., 
Old  Bailey 

Smallbone,  J.,  Titchborne-street,  picture-dealer. 
(Lomat,  Great  Marylebone-street 

Scott,  J.,  Bread  -  street,  shawl-warehouseman. 
(Wingfield  and  Co.,  Great  Marlborough-street 

Taylor,  G.,  Manchester,  steam-engine-manufac- 
turer. (Norris  and  Co.,  John-street  ;  Raymer 
and  Co.,  Manchester 

Tomlinsou,   J.    H.,    Halsted,   money -scrivener. 

eyiglesworth  and  Co.,    Gray's-inn;    Wyche, 
ipon 

Turner,  F.  G.,  Bermondsey,  leather-seller.    (Wil- 
kinson and  Co.,  Bucklersbury 
Thomas,  J.,  Abercarne,  grocei1.    (Poole  and  Co., 

Gray's-inn  ;  Cornish  and  Son,  Bristol 
Taylor,  J.,  jun.,  Halifax,  dealer.    (Adlington and 

Co.,  Bedford-row  :  Boardman,  Bolton 
Wilson,  T.  Manchester,  commission-agent.    (Ap- 

pleby  and  Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Monck,  Manchester 
Wright,  L.  W.,  London-road,  engineer.    (Rixon 

and  Son,  Jewry-street 
Welford,  J.,  Oxford  street,  auctioneer.    (Loaden, 

Great  James-street 
Woodrow,  W.,  West  Coker,  draper.   (Vizard  and 

Co.,  Lincoln's -inn -fields;   Gregory    and  Co., 

Bristol 
Worts,  C.,  Wapping  High-street,  ship-chandler. 

(Clabon  and  Co.,  Mark-lane 
Wilson,  R.,  Bishopsgate-street,  woollen-draper. 

(Wilde  and  Co.,  College-hill 

3  Q  2 


[    492 


[OCT. 


ECCLESIASTICAL  PREFERMENTS. 


Rev.  J.  Swainson,  to  the  perpetual  Cu- 
racy of  Walton-le-Dale,  Lancashire — Rev. 
W.  F.  Drake,  to  be  Chaplain  to  Bishop  of 
Norwich. — Rev.  H.  M.  Wagner,  and  Rev. 
E.  Everard,  to  be  Chaplains  to  the  King — 
Rev.  H.  H.  Dodd,  to  the  Vicarage  of  Ar- 
lington, Sussex. — Rev.  H.  Moore,  to  the 
Vicarage  of  Willingdon,  Sussex. — Rev.  E. 
M.  Hall,  to  the  perpetual  Curacy  of  Idle, 
York — Rev.  E.  S.  C.  B.  Cave,  to  the  per- 
petual Curacy  of  St.  Peter,  Morley,  York. 
— Rev.  J.  P.  Vowles,  to  be  Chaplain  to 
Marquis  of  Northampton. — Rev.  J.  Griffith, 
to  the  Rectory  of  Llangynhafel,  Denbigh. 
—Rev.  W.  M.  Mayers,  to  a  Stall  in  Ca- 
thedral Church  of  St.  Patrick,  Dublin — 


Rev.  J.  Darby,  to  the  Rectory  of  Skenfreth, 
Monmouth — Rev.  C.  Birch,  to  the  Vi- 
carage of  Happisburgh,  Norfolk — Rev.  G. 
R.  Gray,  to  the  Vicarage  of  Inkberrow, 
Worcester — Rev.  F.  F.  Clark,  to  the  per- 
petual Curacy  of  Christ  Church,  Coseley, 
Stafford. — Rev.  I.  Hughes,  to  the  perpetual 
Curacy  of  Llangynfelin,  Cardigan. — Rev. 
A.  Creighton,  to  the  Vicarage  of  S  tailing- 
borough,  Lincoln — Rev.  W.  Robinson,  to 
the  perpetual  Curacy  of  Wood  Enderby, 
near  Horncastle. — Rev.  J.  Hand,  to  the 
Rectory  of  Hansworth,  York. — Rev.  T.  G. 
Moulsdale,  to  the  perpetual  Curacy  of  Hope, 
Flint. 


CHRONOLOGY,  MARRIAGES,  DEATHS,  ETC. 


CHRONOLOGY. 

August  2.  Parliament  prorogued  from 
September  14  to  October  26,  to  be  then  held 
and  to  sit  for  the  despatch  of  divers  urgent 
and  important  affairs. 

24.  Meeting  of  the  West  India  planters 
at  City    of  London    Tavern,    Marquis   of 
Chandos  in  the  chair  ;  the  annual  report  of 
their  committee  was  read  and  adopted. 

25.  This  day  Gen.  Baudrand,  on  a  special 
mission  from  the  King  of  the  French,  had 
a  private  audience,  to  deliver  letters  to  His 

.  Majesty  ;  to  which  audience  he  was  intro- 
duced by  the  Earl  of  Aberdeen,  His  Ma- 
jesty's Principal  Secretary  of  State  for 
Foreign  Affairs,  and  conducted  by  Sir 
Robert  Chester,  Knt.,  Master  of  the  cere- 
monies— Gazette. 

25.  Revolution  broke  out  in  Belgium, 
when  some  of  the  ministers'  houses  were 
broken  open,  robbed,  and  set  fire  to. 

Sept.  13.  Extraordinary  meeting  of  the 
Netherlands'  States-General,  convoked  by 

.  the  King  at  the  Hague,  "  by  the  pressure 
of  afflicting  events." 

14.  Duke  of  Brunswick  arrived  at  Dover, 
after  a  narrow  escape  he  had  made  from  the 
metropolis  of  his  dominions,  an  insurrec- 
tion having  there  taken  place  4  his  palace 
being  burnt  to  the  ground,  and  himself 
obliged  to  run  away  to  save  his  life.  No 
one  was  killed  or  wounded,  nor  any  pri- 
vate property  disturbed  :  the  military  refused 
to  fire  upon  the  people. 

16.  Sessions  commenced  at  Old  Bailey. 

17.  His  Majesty  signified  his  consent  to 
become  Patron  of  the  Horticultural  Society 
of  London. 

18.  Sapwell,  a  convict  condemned  at  the 
Old  Bailey  for  the  murder  of  Long,  one  of 
the  police,  executed  at  the  Old  Bailey. 

22.  News  arrived  of  disturbances  in  the 
kingdom  of  Saxony  ;  the  burghers  of  Dres- 
den rose,  overpowered  the  military,  plun- 


dered the  Town  Hall,  and  destroyed  all  the 
public  records,  and  the  hotel  of  the  minister, 
who  fled.  The  King  has  abdicated  and 
appointed  his  son  Regent,  and  granted 
him  the  succession. 

Sept.  24.  Sessions  ended  at  the  Old 
Bailey,  when  18  prisoners  received  sentence 
of  death,  and  117  of  transportation  at  various 
periods. 

—  Prince  Talleyrand,  ci-devant  Bishop 
of  Autun,  arrived  as  Ambassador  from  the 
King  of  the  French. 

MARRIAGES. 

T.  H.  S.  Bucknall  Estcourt,  M.  P.,  to 
Lucy  Sarah,  daughter  of  Admiral  Sothe- 
ron,  M.  P.,  Notts. — Earl  of  Roscommon, 
to  Charlotte,  daughter  of  the  late  J.  Talbot, 
esq.,  and  niece  of  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury. — 
At  Wortley,  Hon.  J.  C.  Talbot,  third  son 
of  Earl  Talbot,  to  Hon.  Caroline  Jane 
Stuart  Wortley,  daughter  of  Lord  Wharn- 
cliffe — Captain  E.  C.  Fletcher,  (IstL.  G.), 
to  Hon.  Ellen  Mary  Shore,  daughter  of 
Lord  Teignmouth. — E.  Hopkins,  esq.,  to 
Eliza  Susannah,  daughter  of  Vice-Admiral 

Giffard Sir  Edward  Blunt,  bart.,  to  Mary 

Frances,  eldest  daughter  of  Edward  Blunt, 
esq.,  M.  P — Hon.  J.  St.  Clair,  eldest  son 
of  Lord  St.  Clair,  to  Miss  Jane  Little  _ 
Lieut.-Col.  J.  P.  St.  Clair,  to  Susan, 
daughter  of  Sir  T.  Turton,  bart. 

DEATHS. 

Harriet  Mary,  Countess  of  Malmesbury, 
70,  mother  of  the  present  Earl  of  Malmes- 
bury— Mary,  wife  of  Rev.  Rowland  Hill, 
84 — Frances,  the  lady  of  Baron  Ducie, 
daughter  of  Earl  of  Carnarvon.  —  Lady 
Robinson,  wife  of  Rt.  Hon.  Sir  Christopher 
Robinson. — Rear-Admiral  Hunter,  98. — 
At  Bath,  Mr.  N.  T.  Carrington,  53,  late 
of  Devonport,  Author  of  "Dartmoor," 
"  The  Banks  of  Tamar,"  "  My  Native 
Village,"  and  other  Poems  ;  he  had  lingered 


1830.] 


Chronology,  Marriages,  and  Deaths. 


493 


four  years  in  a  consumption. — At  Easton, 
Earl  of  Rochford,  77 — At  Aldenham  Ab- 
bey, Admiral  Sir  Charles  Morrice  Pole, 
bart. — In  Portland-place,  Lady  Boston. — 
At  Sacombe  Park,  Countess  of  Athlone. — 
In  Regent's  Park,  J.  Wilson,  esq.,  late 

M.  P.  for  city  of  York Lady  Isabella 

Douglas,  aunt  to  Earl  of  Selkirk. — Lady 
Augusta  Mary  de  Grey,  daughter  of  late 
Lord  Walsingham. — Hon.  Mrs.  J.  Staple- 
ton,  daughter  of  late  Lord  Southampton. — 
Right  Hon.  W.  Huskisson,  M.  P.,  Liver- 
pool— Sophia,  wife  of  Vice- Admiral  Sir 
Henry  Bayntun. 

DEATHS  ABROAD. 

At  Albano,  near  Rome,  Sarah  Emerson, 
wife  of  Lieut.-Col.  Manley,  of  the  Roman 
Dragoon  Guards — At  St.  Leu,  near  Paris, 
the  Prince  de  Condd,  75,  late  Due  de 


Bourbon,  and  father  of  the  Due  d'Enghien, 
so  basely  murdered  by  the  particular  order 
of  Napoleon  Buonaparte,  who  had  pre- 
viously ordered  his  grave  to  be  dug  for  his 

reception  !  !  !  —  Count  d&  Segur. Duke 

Ferdinand  of  Anhalt  Coethen — At  Naples, 
in  perfect  possession  of  every  sense,  Donna 
Rosario  Pangallo,  aged  132  !!  ! At  Na- 
ples, General  J.  E.  Acton,  92,  brother  to 
the  late  Sir  J.  Acton,  bart.,  Prime  Minister 
of  that  kingdom. — At  Paris,  Capt.  Knight. 
This  lamented  gentleman,  whose  distin- 
guished bravery  in  the  late  French  Revolu- 
tion obtained  for  him  the  thanks  of  La- 
fayette, and  the  appointment  in  the  National 
Guard,  which  he  lived  so  brief  a  time  to 
enjoy,  was  a  relative  of  T.  A.  Knight,  esq., 
of  Downton  Castle.  His  exertions  in  the 
late  glorious  struggle  are  supposed  to  have 
hastened  his  death — (  Worcester  Herald. ) 


MONTHLY  PROVINCIAL  OCCURRENCES. 


NORTHUMBERLAND At  the  lat- 
ter end  of  last  week,  an  inquest  was  held  at 
Morpeth,  on  the  body  of  an  Italian  named 
Baptiste  Bernard,  one  of  the  attendants  on 
the  elephant  now  performing  at  the  theatre- 
royal  here.  This  man,  in  a  state  of  intoxi- 
cation, three  years  ago,  stabbed  the  trunk 
of  the  noble  beast  with  a  pitchfork,  and 
otherwise  ill-used  her,  and  there  has  never 
been  any  cordiality  between  them  since ; 
she  always  regarded  him  with  cross  looks, 
but  had  never  a  fair  opportunity  of  tak- 
ing her  revenge  until  they  passed  through 
Morpeth,  when  he  happening  to  be  alone 
with  her,  she  grasped  him  round  the  waist 
with  her  trunk,  broke  his  ribs,  and  crushed 
him  so  much  that  he  vomited  blood,  and 
died  two  days  afterwards.  The  verdict  was 
accidental  death,  with  a  deodand  of  5*. 
Having  gratified  her  long  cherished  revenge, 
she  appears  to  have  resumed  her  good  tem- 
per.— Newcastle  Courant,  Sept.  4. 

A  meeting  was  lately  held  at  Newcastle 
in  the  Guildhall  (presided  by  the  mayor), 
"  to  attest  the  sympathy  of  Englishmen 
with  the  cause  of  liberty  in  France,"  when 
resolutions  were  unanimously  passed  to  that 
effect,  one  of  them  stating,  "  the  French 
people  deserve  the  gratitude  of  all  Europe, 
and  of  this  country  in  particular." — (A  si- 
milar meeting  was  also  lately  held  a  little 
farther  north  (Glasgow,  presided  by  the 
Lord  Provost)  to  the  same  effect ;  at  the 
.termination  of  which  four  huzzas  were  given 
for  the  French  cause,  and  three  for  King 
William !  ) 

.  LANCASHIRE — The  opening  of  the 
Liverpool  railway  took  place  Sept.  15,  and 
the  number  of  persons  congregated  was  im- 
mense. The  Duke  of  Wellington,  with 
the  Austrian  and  Russian  Ambassadors, 

:and  a  long  train  of  noble  personages, 
assembled  on  the  occasion  in  the  respective 


carriages,  which  were  of  every  variety  and 
form,  amounting  to  28,  and  affording  ac- 
commodation to  nearly  800  persons — form- 
ing a  spectacle  of  an  interest  unparalleled, 
and  calling  forth  sublime  conceptions  of  the 
mind  and  energies  of  man.  The  ceremony 
passed  off  in  the  most  complete  manner 
until  it  was  awfully  signalized  by  the  most 
distressing  and  singular  catastrophe  of  the 
death  of  Mr.  Huskisson,  the  celebrated  and 
Right  Hon.  representative  of  Liverpool; 
who,  in  endeavouring  to  re-ascend  the  car, 
missed  his  footing  and  fell,  and  was  ridden 
over  by  another  car  (the  Rocket),  which 
crushed  his  leg  and  thigh,  and  fractured 
them  in  so  dreadful  a  manner  as  to  cause 
his  death  in  the  course  of  the  evening  of 
the  same  day.  This  melancholy  event 
threw  a  gloom  over  the  whole  of  the  in- 
tended rejoicings  for  this  magnificent  under- 
taking. 

On  Sunday,  August  22,  great  indignation 
was  created  by  the  refusal  of  the  Vicar  of 
Dean,  near  Bolton-le-Moors,  to  bury  a 
corpse — when  the  body  was  conveyed  to  the 
Independent  Methodist's  chapel,  in  Bolton, 
(a  distance  of  two  miles  !)  where  it  was  in- 
terred, and  the  service  performed  by  one  of 
the  "unpaid"  ministers  of  that  body  !  !  !— 
About  1000  people  were  assembled ! — A 
riot  was  expected,  but  all  was  very  peace- 
able ;  a  county  magistrate  (Capt.  Kerdy) 
however,  remained  on  the  ground  the  whole 
of  the  time  !  ! ! — Lincoln  and  Stamford 
Mercury,  Sept.  3. 

A  meeting  of  the  projectors  of  the  Shef- 
field and  Manchester  Railway  was  held  at 
Liverpool,  Aug.  26,  when  a  prospectus  of 
the  proposed  undertaking  was  read,  and  a 
committee  appointed  for  the  pnrpose  of  tak- 
ing the  necessary  measures  for  carrying  the 
object  of  the  meeting  into  effect.  The  pros- 
pectus has  since  been  made  public.  Pro- 
posed capital  £600,000,  in  £100  shares. 


494  Yorkshire,  Northamptonshire,   Worcestershire,  fyc.          [OCT. 

to  a  very  considerable  amount.  Troops 
were  sent  for  to  Birmingham,  and  luckily 
arriving  the  next  morning  at  six  o'clock, 
patrolled  the  streets,  and  prevented  any 
further  outrages,  but  the  shops  were  kept 
shut,  and  scarcely  any  business  was  tran- 
sacted. In  the  afternoon  a  meeting  of  the 
most  respectable  inhabitants  was  convened 
by  the  magistrates,  at  the  Guildhall,  when 
a  resolution  was  passed,  that  an  application 
be  made  to  the  Secretary  of  State  for  a  per- 
manent military  force  to  preserve  the  peace 
of  the  town.  Several  of  the  rioters  have 
been  committed  to  prison. 

The  fifth  show  of  the  Worcester  Horti- 
cultural Society  for  the  present  year,  took 
place  this  day  at  the  Town  Hall,  and  was 
fully  and  fashionably  attended.  There  was 


At  the  Summer  Assizes  held  at  Lancaster, 
18  prisoners  were  recorded  for  death  ;  4  were 
transported,  and  20  imprisoned  for  various 
periods. 

A  grand  dinner  has  been  given  at  Man- 
chester by  the  principal  inhabitants  in 
honour  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  as 
"  victor  of  Waterloo."  His  Grace  was  at- 
tended by  Earl  Wilton,  who  regretted  that 
public  opinion  was  moving  with  rapid  strides 
in  a  course  which  he  dreaded  to  think  of; 
there  was  not  that  hereditary  affection  for 
the  aristocracy,  and  of  loyalty  and  affection 
to  the  throne,  there  used  to  be  !  !  ! 

YORKSHIRE The  new  church  of  St. 

Peter's,  Morley,  has  recently  been  conse- 
crated ;  it  is  built  in  the  gothic  style  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  contains  accommo- 
dation for  1000  sittings,  478  of  which  are 
free  seats.  The  villages  on  the  occasion 
evinced  a  lively  interest;  for,  previous  to 
its  opening,  they  had  to  go  a  distance  of 
five  miles  to  attend  church  !  —  The  Holy 
Trinity  church  at  Idle  has  also  been  con- 
secrated ;  it  is  a  substantial  and  neat  struc- 
ture, built  in  the  early  gothic  style  of  archi- 
tecture, with  pointed  windows.  It  stands 
on  a  hill  which  commands  a  beautiful  view 
for  some  miles  along  the  vale  of  the  Aire, 
and  contains  accommodation  for  1020  per- 
sons, of  which  360  are  free,  and  underneath 
the  church  is  a  number  of  vaults  or  cata- 
combs for  burying  places.  The  new  churches 
at  Paddock,  Golcar  Lindley,  Lockwood, 
Netherthong,  and  South  Crosland  have 
likewise  been  consecrated,  and  have  a  simi- 
lar proportion  of  sittings. 

In  clearing  away  the  rubbish  from  the 
interior  of  the  organ  screen  at  York  Minster, 
the  workmen  came  to  the  foundation  of  the 
walls  of  an  ancient  choir.  These  walls  are 
6  feet  8  inches  thick,  and  run  from  east  to 
west,  passing  the  pillars  of  the  lantern 
tower ;  a  portion  of  them  have  been  cut 
away  to  admit  the  bases  of  those  pillarst 
They  are  composed  of  rough  granite  and 
coarse  sand-stone.  More  of  the  walls  have 
been  discovered,  tending  eastward ;  they 
have  been  traced  to  a  considerable  distance, 
and  have  been  found  to  return  in  a  cross  or 
transept  form  to  the  north  and  south.  The 
returns  are  of  perfect  ashlar,  and  adorned 
with  bases,  columns,  and  capitals,  of  the 
Norman  style  of  architecture. 

NORTHAMPTONSHIRE.  — .  By  the 

recent  report  of  the  governors  and  sub- 
scribers to  the  Northampton  General  In- 
firmary, it  appears  that  83,640  persons  have 
been  cured,  and  3,928  relieved,  since  the 
foundation  of  this  county  hospital. 

WORCESTERSHIRE.— A  most  dis- 
graceful riot  took  place  at  Kidderminster, 
Aug.  24,  occasioned  by  the  interference  of 
the  "  Society  of  Workmen"  on  the  pre- 
tence of  regulations  for  higher  wages. 
Several  houses  were  attacked  and  the  win- 
dows destroyed,  and  property  carried  away 


a  splendid  display  of  flowers,  particularly 
Dahb'as  ;  and  the  exhibition  of  fruit  was 
unusually  fine  and  abundant. —  Worcester 
Herald,  Sept.  11. 

The  collection  at  the  doors  of  Worcester 
Cathedral  at  the  recent  music  -meeting, 
amounted  to  £1005.  13s.  6d.,  independent 
of  the  receipts  by  tickets  at  the  concerts. 

WARWICKSHIRE At  the  last  War- 
wick Sessions,  there  were  120  prisoners  for 
trial ;  62  were  under  21  years  of  age  !  The 
chairman  declared  his  conviction  that  the 
means  hitherto  adopted  for  checking  the 
growth  of  crime — particularly  in  populous 
manufacturing  towns — have  been  quite  in- 
effectual. The  amelioration  and  simplifica. 
tion  of  the  criminal  law — the  classification 
of  prisoners  in  gaol,  and  the  due  apportion- 
ment of  punishment — the  improved  system 
of  police — the  boasted  enlightenment  of  the 
age — and  the  almost  universal  diffusion  of 
education — all  seemed  unequal  to  stem  the 
swelling  torrent  of  juvenile  criminality  !  !  ! 

At  a  meeting  at  the  Royal  Hotel  on 
Thursday  last,  composed  almost  exclusively 
of  members  of  the  "  Political  Union,"  an 
Address  was  voted  to  the  King,  which  was 
directed  to  be  signed  by  Mr.  Thomas  Att- 
wood,  the  chairman,  "  in  the  name  and  on 
behalf  of  the  inhabitants" — so  says  there- 
solution.  A  vote  of  censure  was  passed 
upon  the  high  bailiff  for  refusing  to  convene 
the  meeting — Birmingham  Gaz.,  Sept.  20. 

HANTS — The  inhabitants  of  Brading, 
(Isle  of  Wight)  supported  by  a  number  of 
respectable  friends  from  other  parts  of  the 
island,  have  recently  celebrated  the  late 
momentous  achievement  in  France.  After 
dinner  the  health  of  William  IV.  was  first 
proposed,  and  followed  by  that  of  Queen 
Adelaide,  both  of  which  toasts  were  pre- 
ceded by  ardent  and  sincere  expressions. 
Philippe  the  First,  King  of  the  French,  was 
next  given,  upon  which  occasion  the  chair- 
man, after  adverting  to  the  general  object 
of  their  association,  dilated  with  emphatic 
force  and  eloquence  upon  the  unparalleled 
triumph  of  personal  patriotism,  private  va- 
lour, and  public  virtue,  which  the  heroic 
population  of  Paris  had  recently  displayed 


1830.]         Lincolnshire,  Sussex,  Cheshire,  Gloucestershire, 


in  subduing  the  machinations  and  violence 
of  bigotry  and  unrelenting  despotism.  Tri- 
coloured  flags  waved  from  the  windows  of 
the  tavern,  and  every  one  present  ornamented 
himself  with  a  cockade. 

LINCOLNSHIRE — By  the  41st  an- 
riual  Report  of  the  Horncastle  Public  Dis- 
pensary, it  appears  that  the  total  number  of 
patients  admitted  since  its  opening  to  Sept. 
29,  1830,  amounts  to  13,073  ;  and  that  last 
year  there  were  509.  Of  course  the  expenses 
have  been  heavy  to  do  so  much  good  ;  and, 
in  order  to  extend  its  benefits  farther,  the 
friends  to  this  benevolent  institution  solicit 
contributions  for  its  aid  and  support. 

SUSSEX The  inhabitants  of  Brighton, 

in  honour  of  the  King's  arrival  for  residing 
there,  regaled  3,950  children  belonging  to 
that  town  with  a  good  dinner  of  roast  beef 
and  plum  pudding,  and  other  etceteras.  The 
King,  Queen,  and  part  of  the  Royal  Family, 
assisted  on  the  occasion. — Such  an  interest- 
ing scene  is  worth  more  than  choirs  of  Te 
Deums,  sung  after  a  sanguinary  battle  for 
destroying  mankind,  or,  what  was  called,  a 
glorious  victory  !  ! 

CHESHIRE.  —  These  assizes  com- 
menced Aug.  30,  before  the  Hon.  Thomas 
Jervis,  who  came  this  circuit  for  the  last 
time  in  the  capacity  of  Justice  of  Chester. 
The  grand  jury  addressed  him  on  the  occa- 
sion, and  Lord  Belgrave,  being  foreman, 
read  the  address,  which  complimented  him 
for  the  steadiness  and  impartiality  which  had 
guided  his  conduct  in  the  administration  of 
the  civil  and  criminal  judicature  of  the 
county.  Mr.  Justice  Jervis  was  evidently 
much  affected  by  this  flattering  testimonial, 
and  returned  thanks  with  considerable  emo- 
tion.— Thirteen  prisoners  were  recorded  fbr 
death,  3  were  transported,  and  a  few  im- 
prisoned. 

GLOUCESTERSHIRE At  these  as- 
sizes Mr.  Justice  Bosanquet  thus  addressed 
the  grand  jury : — "  There  is  one  circum- 
stance which  I  must  remark  with  consi- 
derable satisfaction ;  and  that  is,  that  the 
number  of  very  young  offenders  is  less  than 
I  have  observed  formerly ;  and  I  am  happy 
to  say,  that  I  have  remarked  the  same  cir- 
cumstance at  other  places  during  this  circuit. 
In  some  counties  it  is  the  practice  to  mark 
upon  the  Calendar  how  many  of  the  different 
prisoners  have  been  taught  to  read  and 
write ;  and  that  enables  one  to  form  some 
judgment  of  the  moral  effect  and  influence 
of  education.  That  practice,  therefore,  ap- 
pears to  me  to  be  a  very  useful  one.  I  have 
not  the  same  means  of  forming  a  judgment 
now ;  but  being  very  fully  convinced  that 
the  best  and  most  effectual  check  to  the 
increase  of  crime,  is  the  education  of  the 
poor  in  the  principles  of  morality  and  reli- 
gion, I  hope  and  trust,  that  all  those  who 
have  hitherto  contributed  either  their  per- 
sonal exertions  or  their  pecuniary  assistance 
towards  that  most  laudable  object,  will  con- 


495 


tinue  their  utmost  endeavours  with  a  view 
to  improving  the  condition  of  the  poor, 
which  I  am  sure  must  redound  to  the  benefit 
of  the  public  in  the  prevention  of  crime." — 
Twenty-six  prisoners  were  recorded  for 
death ;  8  were  transported,  and  18  were 
imprisoned  for  various  periods. 

The  county  expenses  last  year  amounted 
to  £18,000— nearly  £4000  of  which  were  for 
county  bridges,  sundries,  &c. — the  rest  for 
jails,  bridewells,  and  law  contingencies. 

MONMOUTHSHIRE.  —Mr.  Justice 
Park,  at  these  assizes,  complimented  the 
Grand  Jury  on  the  very  admirable  accom- 
modation they  had  provided  for  the  admi- 
nistration of  justice,  remarking,  "  That  as 
nothing  is  of  so  much  importance  to  society 
as  the  due  administration  of  justice  ;  so,  to 
render  it  effectual,  it  is  necessary  to  provide 
proper  accommodation  for  the  Judges,  the 
Members  of  the  legal  profession,  and  the 
Public.  That  has  been  done,  so  that  the 
public  are  in  a  situation  in  which  they  can 
now  see  and  hear  the  proceedings  according 
to  the  constitution  of  the  country." 

The  Calendar  exhibited  a  list  of  18  pri- 
soners,  who  were  disposed  of  as  follows,  viz. 
judgment  of  death  was  recorded  against 
two,  two  were  sentenced  to  transportation 
for  seven  years,  six  to  be  imprisoned,  six 
were  acquitted,  and  against  two  no  bills 
were  found. 

DEVONSHIRE — On  the  occasion  of 
the  Anniversary  (Aug.  31)  of  the  Founda- 
tion of  the  Devon  and  Exeter  Hospital,  the 
Archdeacon  (who  preached  at  the  Cathe- 
dral on  the  occasion),  said :  "  Among  all 
the  institutions  which  we  possess,  there  is 
none  more  successful  than  the  ancient  cor- 
poration whose  cause  we  are  now  assembled 
to  celebrate — the  Devon  and  Exeter  Hos- 
pital. It  has,  indeed,  during  the  space  of 
89  years  in  which  it  has  been  established  in 
this  country,  been  most  bountifully  sup- 
ported, and  it  has  amply  recompensed  that 
support  by  relieving  the  afflicted.  Since  its 
commencement  no  less  than  93,000  persons 
have  partaken  of  the  benefits  of  this  institu- 
tion, and  of  these  the  far  greater  portion 
have  been  sufferers  under  acute  disorders, 
and  most  of  them  relieved.  Last  year  there 
were  1,400  patients,  of  whom  nearly  1000 
were  inmates  of  the  house." 

BUCKS. — A  meeting  of  the  manufac- 
turers of  this  county,  Northampton,  and 
Bedford,  and  others  interested  in  the  Pil- 
low Lace  trade,  has  been  held  at  Stony 
Stratford,  when  it  was  resolved  to  petition 
Her  Majesty  to  patronize  and  introduce  the 
use  of  Pillow  Lace.  The  petition  has  been 
since  presented  to  the  Queen  by  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham  ;  and  their  Majesties  have 
promised  "  to  pay  every  attention  in  their 
power  to  the  interests  of  so  large  a  portion 
of  the  industrious  population  of  this  coun- 
try." The  petition  stated  that  150,000 
persons  are  dependent  on  this  trade  for 


496 


Provincial  Occurrences  :  Scotland  and  Ireland. 


[OcT. 


their  daily  bread  ;  and  that  their  earnings 
have  lately  dreadfully  failed,  and  reduced 
them  to  seek  parochial  aid,  owing  to  Pillow 
Lace  not  being  worn  by  the  nobility,  and 
having  become  unfashionable. 

OXFORDSHIRE — Many  very  serious 
acts  of  riot  and  devastation  having  during 
the  last  week  taken  place  on  the  Otmoor 
enclosures,  the  magistrates  came  to  the  re- 
solution of  calling  in  a  military  force  to  the 
aid  of  the  civil  power,  and  on  Saturday  a 
detachment  of  Yeomanry  Cavalry  marched 
into  Islip.  On  Sunday,  appearances  be- 
coming alarming,  application  was  made  by 
the  civil  authorities  for  a  reinforcement,  and 
a  considerable  body  of  the  same  regiment 
was  marched  during  the  day  to  that  neigh- 
bourhood. The  same  night  the  whole  force, 
commanded  by  Lord  Churchill,  and  under 
the  orders  of  the  High  Sheriff,  accompanied 
by  some  of  the  neighbouring  magistrates, 
patroled  Otmoor  till  daylight.  A  few  hours 
later,  reports  were  received  that  a  large  as- 
semblage of  people  were  actually  engaged 
in  destroying  the  fences,  &c.  The  regi- 
ment was  immediately  marched  to  the  spot ; 
and  the  Riot  Act  having  been  read,  they 
succeeded  in  capturing  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  the  rioters,  who  were  sent  off  to 
Oxford  by  the  magistrates,  under  an  escort 
of  yeomanry,  but  were  rescued  by  a  des- 
perate attack  of  the  mob  on  their  way  to  the 
castle.  Some  of  them  who  had  escaped 
have  been  since  recaptured,  and  tranquil- 
lity has  been  established. — Oxford  Paper, 
Sept.  11. 

SCOTLAND — In  the  weaving  trade 
work  is  very  plentiful,  and  the  looms  are 
generally  taken  up  ;  but  in  no  former  period 
were  the  prices  ever  known  to  continue  so 
long  in  such  a  depressed  state.  Coloured 
work  of  all  sorts,  much  of  which  is  for  the 
home-market,  predominates  now  over  all 
others,  and  is  the  only  branch  in  the  trade 
in  which  there  may  be  said  to  be  much  life. 

When    compared    with    the    October 

prices  of  1827,  the  rate  of  paying  is  found 
to  have  suffered  a  large  reduction  ;  and  a 
very  slight  glance  at  the  prices  shews  evi- 
dently the  tremendous  effort  necessary  to 
earn  even  a  bare  subsistence.  The  most 
expert  tradesman  in  the  prime  of  life  will 
scarce  exceed  on  an  average  10s.  a  week ; 
and  even  then,  from  morning  till  night,  he 
must  be  almost  as  constant  and  durable  as 
the  machine  he  has  to  compete  with.  From 
that  downwards  to  half-a-crown  a  week  may 
be  stated  as  the  usual  run  of  weavers'  wages  ; 
and  the  average,  after  deducting  loom-rent 
and  other  items,  may  fairly  be  struck  at  5s. 
a  week.  Within  these  three  months,  co- 
loured work  has  risen  from  eight  to  ten  per 
cent.,  while  in  the  light  way  there  has  been 
no  advance.  A  number  of  the  light  weavers 
have  for  some  time  been  making  their  own 
work  in  preference  to  taking  out  work  from 
the  regular  warehouses,  and  after  purchas- 


ing materials  at  a  poor  market,  are  making 
better  prices. — Glasgow  Chronicle. 

IP.ELAND A  meeting  has  been  re- 
cently held  in  Dublin  for  congratulating  the 
citizens  of  Paris  on  the  late  Revolution, 
when  several  resolutions  were  entered  into 
for  that  purpose;  the  Earl  ofWestmeath 
was  in  the  chair. 

The  elections  have  terminated.  There 
has  been  more  change  in  the  representatives 
than  has  occurred  at  any  election  since  the 
union.  In  Leinster,  which  returns  32  mem- 
bers, there  are  12  new  men.  Munster  re- 
turns 20  members,  of  whom  6  are  strangers. 
Connaught  returns  12  representatives, 
amongst  whom  4  are  new.  Ulster,  26, 
including  10  new  members.  There  are, 
therefore,  32  new  members  —  more  than 
one-third  of  the  entire.  The  new  members, 
generally  speaking,  are  ultra-Liberals,  or 
ultra-Tories.  Eight  Catholics  have  been 
returned  for  counties,  and  one  for  the  city 
of  Cork.  Among  them  the  most  singular 
was  the  return  of  Mr.  Wyse  for  Tipperary. 
The  old  candidates  had  been  both  advocates 
of  Emancipation,  and  Mr.  Hutchinson  is  the 
representative  and  heir  to  the  titles  of  the 
late  Lord  Donoughmore,  who  for  20  years 
almost  was  chosen  by  the  Catholics  of  Ire- 
land to  present  their  petitions  to  the  House 
of  Lords.  Yet  has  he  been  thrown  out, 
though  his  uncle,  the  present  Earl,  holds 
large  possessions  in  the  county,  is  a  man  of 
immense  wealth,  and  very  liberal  politics. 
It  was  not  so  much  against  the  late  member 
the  constituents  pointed  their  hostility,  as 
against  the  aristocracy  and  squirearchy  of 
the  county  by  whom  he  was  supported: 
the  people  being  resolved  to  make  them 
feel  their  importance  ;  in  short,  a  revolution 
is  going  on  in  Ireland — silently  but  surely. 
The  upper  ranks  are  losing  their  influence 
rapidly.  The  democracy  having  learned 
the  secret  of  their  strength,  are  resolved  to 
profit  by  the  knowledge  they  have  acquired, 
and  to  meet  at  the  next  election  the  aristo- 
cracy foot  to  foot.  As  to  the  absentees, 
their  influence  is  entirely  gone.  —  At 
Antrim,  when  the  burgesses  were  about 
to  leave  the  room,  three  cheers  were  vo- 
ciferously given  for  the  French  Revolu- 
tion !  !  ! 

O'Connel  has  commenced  a  Series  of 
Letters  to  the  People  of  Ireland,  the  pur- 
pose of  which  is  the  Repeal  of  the  Union  ; 
Roman  Catholic  Emancipation  being,  in 
his  estimation,  only  a  preliminary  measure 
to  the  objects  contemplated  by  him  and  his 
associated  spirits  !  "  In  the  history  of 
mankind,"  he  says,  "  there  seldom  has 
been  exhibited  such  a  pure,  fearless,  disin- 
terested, and  animated  spirit  of  patriotism, 
as  has  shone  forth  in  Ireland  of  late  years, 
and  in  particular  during  the  late  elections 

I  do  affirm,  that  the  conduct  of  the 

Irish  electors  exceeds  in  patriotism  that  of  the 
French,  considering  that  they  (the  French  !) 
had  the  protection  of  the  ballot !" 


]LOUIS    FMULIFFE 

c 


V.//.VJ. 


Whittaker 


THE 

MONTHLY    MAGAZINE 

(Of 

POLITICS,  LITERATURE,  AND  THE  BELLES  LETTRES. 
VOL.  X.]  NOVEMBER,  1830.  [No.  59. 


ENGLAND    AND    EUROPE    IN    OCTOBER    1830. 

THOSE  who  conceived  that  the  close  of  the  French  war  was  the 
close  of  the  convulsions  of  Europe,  were  false  prophets.  That  war  closed 
nothing  but  the  career  of  Napoleon — a  mighty  man,  and  a  ferocious 
master  of  power  ;  but  only  a  man  after  all,  and  perishing  by  the  com- 
mon course  of  all  conquerors  and  kings.  The  impulses  of  nations  are 
of  a  higher  birth  ;  they  continue  long  after  their  apparent  authors  have 
passed  away ;  and  Europe  will  have  yet  to  feel  through  all  her  depths, 
and  for  many  a  year,  the  blows  given  to  her  solid  frame  by  the  French 
Revolution. 

The  first  session  of  the  British  Parliament  will  have  opened  while 
these  observations  are  passing  through  the  press;  and  its  deliberations 
will  be  probably  among  the  most  interesting  and  characteristic  that 
have  occurred  since  the  war.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  will  grasp 
power  with  all  the  activity  and  keenness  of  his  ambition  ;  and  the  strug- 
gle will  be  between  him  and  the  new  generation  whom  the  people  have 
returned  on  exclusively  popular  principles.  In  commanding  the  whole 
enormous  patronage  of  Government,  he  commands  a  political  strength 
with  which  no  party  can  compete  on  the  old  terms  of  party ;  while 
the  contest  lay  between  Whig  and  Tory,  both  dubious  of  their  success, 
and  both  wavering  in  their  original  creed,  the  Minister  was  sure  to  be 
triumphant.  With  place  open  for  the  reception  of  every  fugitive,  he 
must  have  found  his  ranks  recruited  with  all  that  could  be  faithful  in 
party  duplicity,  and  active  in  zeal  that  laboured  for  its  hire.  No  man 
knows  better  that  in  the  Commissariat  lies  the  strength  of  the  army,  and 
that  the  well-fed  always  have  fortune  on  their  side.  Opposition  starving 
in  its  trenches,  must  soon  have  been  thinned  of  every  man  who  preferred 
good  quarters  to  barren  Quixotism  ;  and  excepting  a  few  leaders,  who 
dared  not  go  over,  through  mere  shame,  or  had  been  too  keenly  lace- 
rated to  be  able  to  suppress  their  recollections,  the  Minister  must  have 
had,  in  a  short  period,  the  whole  muster-roll  of  the  enemy. 

But  he  has  now  to  contend  with  adversaries  of  another  species.  A 
new  class  and  character  of  hostility  is  starting  up  in  his  front ;  and  the 
question  will  be  brought  to  decision,  not  between  the  obsolete  and  for- 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  59.  3  R 


498  England  and  Europe  in  October  1830.  [Nov. 

mal  parties  of  the  House,  but  between  the  Treasury  Bench  and  the  dele- 
gates of  the  people — that  people  itself  assuming  a  new  character,  and 
commissioning  its  representalives  to  Parliament  with  a  voice  of  autho- 
thority,  and  a  jealous  and  rigid  determination  to  see  that  their  duty  is 
done,  unexampled  in  British  history. 

This  spirit  we  applaud.  To  this  spirit  we  look  for  the  support  of  the 
liberties,  the  invaluable  liberties  of  England ;  and  by  this  spirit  alone 
will  the  decaying  vitality  of  the  Constitution  be  restored.  We  are  well 
known  to  be  no  Republicans,  to  see  nothing  good  in  the  changes 
wrought  by  popular  passion,  by  the  vulgar  artifice  of  vulgar  haranguers, 
by  the  itinerant  inflammation  of  beggar  patriotism.  But  we  see  in  this 
public  feeling  no  republicanism,  no  appeal  to  the  atheist,  to  the  demo- 
crat, to  the  baseness  of  the  plunderer,  or  the  fury  of  the  assassin. 
We  see  in  it  but  the  natural  expression  of  honourable  minds,  disdain- 
ing to  look  upon  injustice  and  extortion,  however  sanctioned  by  time ; 
sick  of  the  venality  of  public  men ;  insulted  by  the  open  spoil  which 
the  sinecurist  commits  upon  the  honest  gains  of  society  j  doubtful  of  the 
necessity  of  that  strangling  burthen  of  taxes  which  makes  industry  as 
poor  as  idleness ;  more  than  doubtful  of  their  appropriation ;  and  utterly 
shrinking  from  the  view  of  their  fatal  effect  on  the  freedom  of  England. 
With  the  extravagance  of  political  mountebanks  we  have  no  connection. 
But  not  the  wild  hater  of  all  government,  nor  the  sullen  conspirator 
against  the  peace  of  mankind,  are  the  appellants  here ;  but  the  father  of 
the  industrious  family,  the  man  of  secluded  piety,  the  man  of  accom- 
plished literature,  the  man  of  genius,  honesty,  and  virtue,  are  those  who 
now  feel  themselves  compelled  to  come  from  their  willing  obscurity  into 
the  front  rank  of  public  care,  to  raise  up  their  voices  till  now  never 
heard  beyond  the  study  or  the  fireside,  and  demand  that  the  British 
Parliament  shall  at  last  throw  off  its  fetters,  scorn  the  indolence,  mean- 
ness, and  venality  of  party,  and  know  no  impulse  but  its  duty,  no 
patronage  but  that  of  public  gratitude,  and  no  party  but  its  country. 
Those  feelings  are  so  just,  that  they  have  become  universal,  and  so  uni- 
versal, that  they  have  become  irresistible.  The  minister  must  yield  to 
them,  or  he  instantly  descends  from  his  power.  But  from  that  power 
he  will  not  descend,  while  it  is  to  be  secured  by  the  most  eager  reten- 
tion, or  even  by  the  most  signal  sacrifices.  It  is  now  announced,  that,  unable 
to  oppose  the  current,  he  will  suffer  himself  to  be  borne  along  it.  So 
much  the  better.  Every  sacrifice  wrested  from  his  ambition,  or  ren- 
dered up  as  the  price  of  his  safety,  will  be  so  much  gained.  The  nation 
will  be  made  strong  as  the  power  of  purchase  is  made  weak ;  and  the 
candidates  for  public  distinction  will  be  compelled  at  last  to  discover, 
that  the  most  prudent  choice,  not  less  than  the  most  manly,  generous, 
and  principled,  is  to  side  with  the  country. 

It  is  rumoured  that  the  Premier  intends  to  propose,  among  his  earliest 
measures,  the  extension  of  suffrage  to  Manchester,  Birmingham,  and 
other  of  the  great  towns.  So  far  has  been  long  demanded,  and  it  will 
be  wise  in  him  to  concede.  But  the  rights  of  representation  are  but  a 
barren  victory.  If  Manchester  returned  fifty  members  instead  of  two, 
it  would  not  extinguish  the  sinecures,  clear  the  government  of  obnoxious 
patronage,  destroy,  down  to  the  roots,  the  whole  boroughmongering 
system ;  rend  away  every  superfluous  expense  of  the  public  service  ; 
reduce  the  enormous  salaries  of  the  ministers,  the  household,  the  feeders 
on  the  civil  list ;  expunge  the  annuities  to  ministerial  aunts,  cousins, 


1830.]  England  and  Europe  in  October  1830.  499 

and  connections  of  more  dubious  kinds,  on  the  pension  list ;  and  thus, 
by  disburdening  the  nation  of  unnecessary  taxes,  enable  the  English- 
man to  live  by  the  labour  of  his  hands.  If  these  things  may  be  done 
by  the  change  in  the  elective  franchise  of  the  manufacturing  towns,  it 
will  be  only  by  a  circuitous  process.  But  England  has  no  time  to  wait. 
What  must  be  done  at  last,  cannot  be  done  too  speedily.  The  truth  is, 
that  the  nation  is  disgusted  with  the  insolent  extravagance  of  the  public 
expenditure.  It  hears  on  all  hands  the  most  zealous  declarations  of 
economy,  diminution  of  salaries,  and  withdrawal  of  taxes  ; — but  it  finds 
itself  practically  unrelieved  of  a  single  tax.  It  sees  a  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer  start  up,  and  sweep  away  an  impost ;  yet  by  some  unac- 
countable fatality,  it  never  feels  that  it  is  a  shilling  the  richer.  The  tax- 
gatherer  makes  his  appearance  armed  with  increasing  demands;  the 
necessaries  of  life  increase  in  price  as  they  decrease  in  excellence  ;  every 
thing  that  man  eats,  drinks,  or  wears,  loads  him  with  an  additional  tax  ;, 
and  in  spite  of  the  oratorical  economy  of  the  government,  he  is  poorer 
every  day  that  he  rises  from  his  pillow. 

There  must  be  something  wrong  where  industry  cannot  make  a  man 
rich,  nor  prudence  keep  him  so;  and  this  wrong  the  Representatives  of  the 
British  people  must  set  right,  or  the  people  will  have  formidable  reason 
to  complain.  The  public  expenditure  must  be  diminished.  Vigorous  and 
honest  economy  must  supersede  the  kind  of  economy  that  leaves  the 
nation  poor ;  and  public  men,  whether  soldiers  or  civilians,  must  learn 
that  lucre  is  not  to  be  the  sole  stimulant  of  the  Official  mind. 

But,  to  come  to  detail.  Sir  James  Graham  has  stated,  in  the  hearing 
of  the  House,  and  the  country,  that  one  hundred  and  fifteen  of  the 
Privy  Council  live  on  the  public  money  :  and  they  have  no  great  reason  to 
complain  of  the  penury  of  their  treatment,  for  the  aggregate  sum  is  up- 
wards of  £600,000  !  This  must  be  inquired  into,  in  all  its  bearings.  We 
must  hear  no  more  of  the  defence  of  hereditary  sinecures.  No  man 
has  a  right  to  receive  public  money  without  public  work ;  and  the 
simple  ground  of  having  an  ancestor  in  the  way  to  commit  a  public 
plunder,  and  availing  himself  of  his  opportunity,  must  not  stop  the 
course  of  justice.  The  sinecures  must  go.  Many  of  those  are  in  the 
law  courts,  and  act  as  encumbrances  on  the  course  of  justice,  by  en- 
creasing  the  expenses  of  every  step  in  obtaining  it.  The  sinecure  clerk- 
ships held  by  noble  lords,  the  prothonotary  ships ;  the  Pells,  the  hundred 
other  unintelligible  titles  for  pensioning  individuals  who  know  no  more 
of  the  duty  than  the  man  in  the  moon,  must  be  abolished. 

Doctors'  Commons  will  make  a  fine  subject  for  revision ;  the  heavy 
sinecures  of  the  Prerogative  Courts,  the  registrarships,  the  notaryships 
— will  richly  reward  investigation.  We  must  demand  some  account  of 
that  £10,000  a  year  which  was  claimed  by  the  late  primate.  The 
sinecures  of  all  kinds  must  go. 

Then  come  the  extravagancies  of  actual  office.  Sir  James  Graham 
must  look  to  the  public  boards.  Why  should  each  have  half-a-dozen 
commissioners  at  enormous  salaries,  when  a  couple  actually  do  all  the 
duty  ?  Why  are  we  to  have  a  dozen  boards,  all  inflicting  so  heavy  an 
expense  ?  Next,  why  is  a  secretary  of  state  to  receive  the  inordinate 
salary  of  six  thousand  pounds  a  year  ?  Is  the  rank  nothing,  the  honour 
of  the  office  nothing,  the  actual  power  nothing,  the  opportunity  of 
being  a  benefactor  to  one's  country  and  mankind  nothing,  unless  it  can 
be  recompensed  with  a  salary  that  would  maintain  a  hundred  families  of 

3  R  2 


500  England  and  Europe  in  October  1830.  [Nov. 

the  English  yeomanry  ?  Three  such  salaries  as  Sir  Robert  Peel  enjoys 
at  this  day,  would  relieve  the  parish  of  St.  Giles  of  poor-rates.  Let  it 
not  then  be  said,  that  the  extinction  of  those  salaries  would  make  .no 
saving.  The  salaries  of  the  ten  men  who  sit  ciphers  round  his  Grace 
of  Wellington's  cabinet-table,  would  pay  the  poor-rates  of  Marylebone 
twice  over.  Would  this  be  no  relief  to  the  people,  or  would  it  not  be 
instantaneously  felt  by  the  people  ?  We  must  see  the  salary  system 
altogether  revised,  and  cut  down  Sir  Robert  to  the  stinted  allowance  of 
his  own  twenty  thousand  a  year. 

Next  come  the  public  branches  of  service.  The  enormous  multitude 
of  the  standing  army  ought  to  have  been  reduced  long  since.  England's 
true  force  is  the  Navy.  An  army  is  more  unnecessary  to  her  than  to 
any  country  on  the  globe. 

The  only  ground  for  maintaining  any  army  is  defence..  But  what  enemy 
could  invade  England,  without  Tier  having  notice  in  full  time  for  the 
amplest  preparation  ?  Fleets  must  be  gathered,  flotillas  must  be  formed, 
sea-fights  must  be  fought,  months  and  years  must  be  passed,  before,  by 
mere  possibility,  an  enemy's  soldier  could  set  foot  upon  her  shore.  Yet 
what  is  the  sum  which  we  are  at  this  moment  paying  for  a  standing 
army  ?  Seven  millions  of  pounds  sterling  a  year  !  and  this  overwhelm- 
ing sum  we  have  been  paying  for  fifteen  years  of  the  most  profound 
peace  j  with  the  Crown  every  Session  declaring  the  most  perfect 
harmony  among  European  sovereigns  !  We  have  thus  paid  one  hundred 
millions  of  pounds  sterling  for  parade. 

If  we  are  to  be  answered,  "  Oh,  all  this  is  gone  by  ;  'tis  true  we  were 
fools  for  keeping  up  this  enormous  waste  of  men  and  money  during 
fifteen  years  of  peace ;  yet  we  now  cannot  help  ourselves,  for  the  whole 
world  seems  to  be  thinking  of  war,  and  England  must  have  an  army 
ready." 

To  this  the  obvious  reply  is,  that  England's  true  force  is  her  Navy ; 
that  if  there  shall  arise  any  necessity  for  her  sending  an  army  to  the 
Continent — the  very  last  thing  that  can  be  required — she  will  always  have 
time  to  raise  one  ;  that  six  months  will  be  enough  at  any  time :  and  that 
the  saving  of  their  present  expense  for  any  six  months  before,  would 
give  the  nation  three  millions  of  pounds  in  hand  to  raise  them,  and  that 
the  saving  for  a  year  would  give  us  seven  millions,  which  would  raise  and 
equip  an  army  of  jive  hundred  thousand  men  !  It  is  to  be  further  remem- 
bered, that  England  cannot  be  taken  by  surprise  while  she  has  the  Sea 
round  her.  However,  we  will  allow  that  one  necessity  for  a  standing 
army  exists  now,  which  did  not  exist  two  years  ago;  Ireland  is  the  name 
that  solves  the  riddle.  Ireland  is  in  a  state  which  will  yet  require  twice 
the  standing  army  of  England.  Ireland  is  in  that  happy  condition  which 
every  one  predicted,  but  his  Majesty's  ministers,  and  for  which  we  have 
to  thank  the  t(  healing  measure"  of  his  Majesty's  ministers.  But  of 
this  more  anon.  We  cannot  now  reduce  the  army.  Ireland  wants  it ; 
and  the  Horse  Guards'  administration,  glorious  in  their  staff,  their  epau- 
lettes, their  feathers,  and  their  forage-money,  will  still  have  something 
heroic  to  do. 

Now,  to  give  the  Englishman  some  idea  of  what  he  has  to  meet  in  the 
shape  of  the  tax-gatherer,  we  shall  give  him  a  list  of  the  national  expenses 
for  a  single  year. 

The  Budget  of  last  Session  thus  gives  the  account  from  the  5th  of 
April,  1829,  to  the  5th  of  April,  1830  :— - 


1830.]  England  and  Europe  in  October  1830.  501 

Army £7,769,178 

Navy 5,878,71)4 

Ordnance 1,728,908 

Miscellaneous 2,067,973 

Civil  List 2,200,000! 

Naval  and  Military  Pensions  585,740 

£20,230,593 

Such  are  what  may  be  called  the  government  expenses  of  the  country, 
of  which  those  for  the  Navy  are  the  only  ones  which  the  nation  is  content 
to  pay.  The  naval  and  military  pensions  are,  of  course,  included  as 
matters  of  actual  debt  and  duty.  But  what  is  to  be  said  of  a  Civil  List 
of  two  millions  two  hundred  thousand  pounds  sterling?  Of  this  only 
30,000/.  goes  to  the  Judges,  and  all  the  rest,  enormous  as  it  is>  goes  in 
salaries  to  Ambassadors,  who  are  little  better  than  bloated  sinecurists,  at 
from  two  to  12,000/.  a  year  down  ;  to  Officers  of  the  Household,  of  whose 
use  we  must  beg  leave  to  doubt,  until  we  shall  know  what  is  the  use  of  Lord 
Maryborough  riding  about  in  green  and  gold,  with  a  salary  of  3,000/. 
a  year  and  a  fine  house,  for  his  trouble  in  galloping  after  the  king's  dogs  ; 
or  what  is  the  use  of  the  equerries,  gentlemen  of  the  bed-chamber,  lords 
in  waiting,  grooms  of  the  stole,  gold  keys,  white  rods,  and  all  the 
trumpery  of  the  palace.  Yet  for  those  fine  things,  is  yearly  tost  to  the 
winds  a  million  and  a  half  of  money.  On  the  lace  and  coxcombry  of 
those  silly  and  slavish  people  goes  in  a  year  as  much  money  as  would 
build  three  bridges  over  the  Thames,  or  dig  a  canal  from  London  to 
Portsmouth.  Let  Sir  James  Graham  look  to  this.  He  will  find  the 
Civil  List  an  incomparable  field  for  the  exercise  of  his  patriotic  labours. 

As  to  the  King's  personal  expenditure  no  man  in  this  country  will 
desire  to  see  him  curtailed  of  a  single  shilling  that  can  make  him  hap- 
pier, fitter  to  exercise  the  duties  of  his  high  station,  or  more  able  to 
enjoy  his  sovereignty.  We  desire  to  see  the  King  what  a  King  of 
England  should  be — opulent,  splendid,  and  on  a  par  with  any  sovereign 
living.  But  the  Civil  List  has  consumers  who  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  King  or  his  comforts  ;  and  to  the  Civil  List  we  again  invite  the  eye 
of  every  honest  member  of  the  first  parliament  of  his  Majesty  William 
the  Fourth. 

The  interest  of  the  national  debt  must  be  paid.  The  nation  is  pledged 
to  it  by  the  bond  of  public  faith,  so  that  the  matter  admits  of  no  ques- 
tion. No  nation  ever  profited  by  an  act  of  knavery  ;  and  the  attempt  to 
sponge  the  debt  would  have  the  nature  of  both  knavery  and  folly.  It 
must  be  religiously  paid.  Yet  the  sum  is  terrible.  The  interest, 
exclusive  of  the  Sinking  Fund,  is  27,053,000/.  The  interest  on  the 
Exchequer  Bills  is  850,000/.  :  the  whole  yearly  sum  of  the  government 
taxation  amounting  to  the  overwhelming  sum  of  48,133,593/.  But  to 
this  must  be  added  the  enormous  local  taxation,  and  then  we  may  well 
ask  how  an  Englishman  can  live  ? 

On  a  general  view  of  English  Finance,  we  find  the  statement  as 
follows : 

The  national  debt    £800,000,000 

The  (average)  sinking-fund   2,300,000 

The   public   taxation,  amounting  in  the  whole 

to  about    50,000,000 

The  local  taxation,  viz.  poor-rates,  tythes,  church- 
rates,  highway-rates,  county-rates,  £c 20,000,000 


502  England  and  Europe  in  October  1830.  [Nov. 

The  whole  annually  amounting  to — £  70,000,000 

Of  which  Ireland,  having  no   poor-rates,  pays 

about 7,000,000 

Scotland,  having  neither  poor-rates  nor  tythes, 

pays  about 7,000,000 

England  thus  pays 56,000,000 

which,  among  her  twelve  millions  of  people,  is  equal  to  five 
pounds  a  head. 

The  taxation  of  America,  estimating  her  population  at  twelve 

millions,  is  nine  shillings  and  three-pence  a  head ! ! ! 

It  is  then  in  the  government  taxation  and  the  local  taxation  that  the 
reforms  must  be  made.  They  amount  to  forty  millions  !  The  interest 
of  the  debt  must  be  untouched  ;  but  on  the  two  classes  of  taxation  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  a  vast  reduction  might  be  made.  By  reducing  the 
enormous  expenses  of  ambassadors,  commissioners,  public  servants,  sine- 
curists,  &c.,  it  is  unquestionable  that  ten  millions  a  year  might  be  taken 
off  the  burthens  of  the  country ;  of  which  a  portion  might  be  remitted  at 
once,  and  the  rest  applied  to  the  diminution  of  the  national  debt — thus 
permanently  relieving  the  country  of  a  weight  which  severely  oppresses 
even  the  mighty  strength  of  England. 

Court  financiers  will  pretend  to  doubt  that  we  can  be*thus  relieved. 
The  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  would  never  recover  from  his  asto- 
nishment if  he  were  told  that  the  operation  was  about  to  be  tried.  But 
it  must  be  tried.  If  the  unhappy  tamperings  which  have  excited  the 
insolence  of  the  popish  demagogues  only  to  more  hazardous  insolence, 
compel  us  to  keep  tip  an  army  to  the  war  establishment  in  Ireland,  yet 
much  may  be  done  on  this  side  of  the  water.  We  must  have  a  super- 
vision of  the  pension-list,  and  of  the  salaries  of  the  household  ;  we  must 
know  the  use  of  those  seventy  places  which  the  Queen  has  to  give  away. 
We  must  be  told  the  use  of  that  troop  of  idle  people  who  hang  on  the 
court  employments ;  from  Lord  Chamberlain,  and  Master  of  the  Horse, 
down  to  a  private  of  the  band  of  gentlemen  pensioners,  or  of  that  well-fed 
regiment,  of  which  George  Colman,  junior,  is  the  banner-bearer.  Every 
beef-eater  of  them  all  must  be  brought  into  inquiry.  The  whole  court- 
lumber  of  the  tribe  who  fill  Windsor,  Kew,  Hampton-court,  the  Pavi- 
lion, and  St.  James's,  with  their  sinecure  importance,  must  shew,  for 
what  national  purpose  they  draw  the  national  money.  For  the  King 
and  Queen  we  have  loyal  respect.  For  the  due  decorums  of  Royalty  we 
have  every  consideration.  But  we  have  yet  to  learn  the  national  neces- 
sity of  a  Lord  Steward,  or  a  Master  of  the  Robes,  or  a  Master  of  the 
Buck-hounds,  or  any  of  the  Maryborough  generation,  or  a  Ranger  of 
this  or  that  park,  which  means  no  more  than  a  fine  house  and  demesne, 
with  a  pension,  besides,  at  the  expense  of  the  people. 

We  allow  that  none  of  these  things  may  be  new,  but  they  may  all 
be  useless,  and  we  who  must  pay  for  them  have  a  perfect  right  to  know 
why  they  are  to  be  paid  for  ?  The  time  for  those  extravagancies  is 
gone  by.  We  honour  the  King  as  the  head  of  the  state,  and  we  value 
him  as  an  estimable  and  popular  monarch ;  but  the  man  who  will  do 
him  the  best  service,  and  will  give  him  a  popularity,  worth  all  the  tri- 
umphal arches  of  Brighton,  will  divest  his  government  of  all  frip- 
pery, strike  away  all  the  costly  absurdities  of  the  court,  reduce  the  pub- 
lic expense  within  the  bounds  of  actual  utility,  and  give  him  the  high 
honour  of  being  a  patriot  as  well  as  a  king.  The  sinecures,  the  mock 
places,  the  undeserved  pensions,  the  bed-chamber  tribe,  the  noble  rever- 


1830.]  England  and  Europe  in  October  1830.  503 

sionaries — all  must  go  ;  and  then  an  Englishman  may  be  able  to  live  in 
his  country. 

From  England  we  glance  at  the  sister  country. — The  Emerald  Isle  of 
the  two  grand  pacificators,  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  Daniel  O'Connell, 
by  the  grace  of  the  Pope,  chief  nuncio  of  the  Catholic  empire  in  that 
fortunate  and  pacific  realm.  Must  we  repeat  our  predictions  of  the 
result  of  the  virtuous  measure  which  those  two  great  statesmen  generated 
between  them  in  the  month  of  April,  1 829  ?  The  measure  of  Catholic 
Emancipation  will  conciliate  the  Papists,  said  the  Duke. — Ij;  will 
not  conciliate  a  man  of  them,  said  the  Protestant,  but  it  will  turn 
petitioners  into  threateners,  subjects  into  rebels,  and  Papists  into  the 
tyrants  of  Ireland. — It  will  satisfy  all  the  Popish  demands,  said  the 
Duke. — It  will  satisfy  nothing,  said  the  Protestant ;  but  it  will  stimulate 
every  thing.  It  will  tell  the  Papist  that  the  more  he  asks  the  more  he 
will  get ;  the  more  he  riots,  the  more  certain  he  is  of  bringing  the 
country  to  his  terms  ;  and  the  more  he  defies  the  wrath  of  the  cabinet, 
or  insults  the  feelings  of  the  country,  the  more  he  may  rely  on  carrying 
his  favourite  Repeal  of  the  Union. — He  will  do  nothing,  said  the 
Duke,  but  steal  into  Parliament,  make  a  foolish  speech  once  a  session, 
and  be  forgotten.  He  will  demand  a  Parliament  for  himself,  said 
the  Protestant,  and  he  will  have  it ;  he  will  rouse  the  Papist  popu- 
lation into  fury  until  you  have  no  resource  but  violence.  He  will 
have  a  separate  legislature,  which  will  give  him  a  separate  kingdom.— 
He  has  pledged  himself  to  respect  the  King  and  the  Church,  said  the 
Duke.  He  will  value  his  pledges  just  as  if  he  had  been  in  the  cabinet 
of  1829,  said  the  Protestant.  He  will  overthrow  the  Church.  He  will 
extinguish  the  British  connection.  He  will  persecute  the  Protestant; 
and  when  he  has  frightened  every  man  of  loyalty  or  fortune  from  the 
island,  and  cut  asunder  every  bond  of  interest,  affection,  or  patriotism, 
he  will  have  his  choice  of  an  alliance  with  republican  France  or  despotic 
Spain.  And  this  result  will  not  delay.  Before  two  years  are  over  you 
will  see  the  beginning  of  the  business,  and  the  first  demand  will  be  the 
Repeal  of  the  Union  ! 

We  were  wondered  at  for  saying  this ;  and  now,  in  the  first  year  after  the 
sublime  measure  that  was  to  reconcile  every  body,  Ireland  sees  the  sum- 
mons to  a  Catholic  Parliament — sees  the  proclamation  of  a  Lord-Lieute- 
nant declaring  its  meetings  traitorous — a  proclamation  from  the  Popish 
leaders,  calling  for  a  general  levy  by  the  name  of  Volunteers,  with  their 
badges  of  the  old  time,  when  Ireland  in  arms  boasted  that  she  had  terrified 
England  into  all  kinds  of  concessions,  and  with  the  motto  "  Resurgam" 
on  their  caps.  These  are  to  be  the  Regenerators — these  resurrection- 
men  are  to  carry  the  measure ;  by  what  means,  we  are  in  no  doubt  what- 
ever. And  at  this  moment  Ireland  is  in  the  most  likely  condition  of  any 
spot  on  earth,  except  Belgium  or  Paris,  to  reap  the  benefit  of  the  new 
school  of  volunteer  legislation.  Nous  verrons.  Now,  to  other  lands. 

France  is  convulsed  with  faction.  The  populace  are  masters ;  the 
Legislature  is  a  burlesque ;  the  King  is  a  cipher.  The  mob,  in  their 
sovereign  will,  command  the  realm.  The  first  fruits  of  the  reign  of 
peace  are  a  levy  of  1 10,000  soldiers.  The  National  Guards  are  to  be 
increased  from  one  million  to  three.  The  ministry  are  quarrelling  with 
each  other.  The  parliament  is  unpopular.  The  generals  are  sending  in 
their  resignations.  The  priests  are  refusing  to  pray  for  the  King.  The 
English  who  made  .the  chief  revenue  of  the  hotels  and  shops  of  Paris 
are  flying  the  country.  Trade  of  every  kind  is  at  a  stand.  Insolvency 
is  making  its  rapid  way  through  the  manufactories  and  warehouses. 


504  England  and  Europe  in  October  1830.  [Nov. 

The  bank  is  drawing  in  its  discounts :  and  while  night  after  night  some 
levy  of  the  mob  threatens  to  throw  the  whole  government  into  the  Seine, 
and  the  National  Guard  are  compelled  to  be  under  arms  by  50,000  at  a 
time,  no  man  can  tell  at  what  moment  there  may  not  be  an  explosion 
which  will  wrap  France  in  ruin. 

Belgium  has  accomplished  its  separation  from  Holland :  another 
triumph  of  the  populace.  Prince  Frederic  of  Orange  has  been  beaten 
at  the  head  of  an  army,  by  waiters  at  taverns,  hair-dressers,  fiddlers,  and 
tailors ;  and  to  make  the  matter  worse,  all  of  them  Flemings  besides. 
Neither  the  Dutch  cannon  nor  the  Dutch  eloquence,  could  make  the 
Burghers  of  Brussels  give  them  any  thing  in  return,  but  potsherds, 
pikes,  quick  lime,  and  showers  of  oil  of  vitriol  from  windows,  roofs,  and 
chimney-tops.  The  Dutch,  after  three  days  of  this  salutation,  measured 
back  their  steps,  and  now  the  Prince  of  Orange  is  walking  about  the 
streets  of  Antwerp,  "  guarded  only  by  the  love  of  the  citizens,"  who 
will,  in  all  probability,  soon  send  him  back  to  his  royal  father,  as  an 
encumbrance  to  liberty. 

Prussia  is  in  terror.  A  squabble  between  four  tailors,  a  week  or  two 
since,  brought  out  the  whole  garrison  of  Berlin.  The  princes  rode  at 
the  head  of  the  troops  through  the  streets,  and  the  turbulent  tailors  were 
ordered  to  keep  their  hands  from  public  quarrel  in  future.  But  the 
tailors  will  quarrel  again ;  and  before  they  have  done,  may  provide  the 
military  monarch  with  a  costume  of  the  French  republican  pattern. 

Austria  is  in  terror.  She  is  sending  jailers  to  Italy  by  the  hundred 
thousand.  All  her  Italian  fortresses,  prisons,  palaces,  and  galleys,  every 
spot  which  can  keep  out  an  enemy,  or  keep  in  a  subject,  are  undergoing 
a  thorough  repair.  Her  time  will  come.  We  shall  see  the  Archdukes 
in  arms,  and  the  black  eagle  with  fifty  heads  instead  of  two. 

Russia  is  in  terror.  The  Czar  never  sets  foot  in  St.  Petersburg!!, 
without  recollecting  his  adventures  in  Moscow  ;  rebellion  is  (t  scotched 
but  not  killed."  Poland's  memory  is  not  extinguished  yet.  (( Kosciusko" 
is  still  a  watchword.  But  unless  the  Czar  be  grasped  by  his  own 
courtiers  as  his  father  was,  or  be  overwhelmed  by  a  general  rising  of 
the  troops,  as  his  brother  Alexander  had  so  nearly  been,  he  may  be 
safer  from  immediate  disturbance  than  any  continental  king.  But  he 
will  have  no  objection  to  see  the  dogs  of  war  let  slip  in  Europe.  Turkey 
is  still  before  him  :  a  fortnight's  march  would  seat  him  in  Constantinople. 
He  would  now  find  no  messenger  of  Metternich  to  check  his  Cossacks ; 
no  brother  of  that  patient  Scot,  Lord  Aberdeen,  to  say  to  his  cuirassiers, 
thus  far  shall  ye  go  and  no  farther ;  no  Frenchman  to  grimace  him  out 
of  his  conquest,  and  deprive  the  new  Attila  of  the  plunder,  living  and 
dead,  of  the  Seraglio.  These  are  stirring  times.  At  this  hour  there  is 
not  a  Sovereign  of  Europe,  from  the  solemn  Emperor  of  Austria,  to  the 
expatriated  Duke  of  Brunswick,  who  is  not  in  hourly  dread  of  some 
formidable  change  in  his  diadem.  One  exception  alone  there  is,  and  we 
say  it  in  no  flattery — the  King  of  England  !  William  the  Fourth  has 
done  more  to  make  the  people  interested  about  him  than  any  King  of 
Europe !  From  the  day  on  which  he  ascended  the  throne,  he  had 
shewn  so  good-natured,  and  unsophisticated  a  wish  to  do  every  thing 
to  please  the  nation,  that  he  has  perfectly  succeeded ;  and  let  whatever 
change  come,  he  is  secure.  His  Queen  is  conducting  herself  like  an 
English  gentlewoman  of  the  highest  order  j  and  both  the  royal  persons 
may  rely  upon  it,  that  they  have  taken  the  true  way  at  once  to  do  their 
duty,  and  to  establish  their  throne ! 


1830.]  [    505    ] 

MY    FIRST    LOUD    MAYORS    SHOW. 

THE  old  proverb  says,  "  Once  a  man — twice  a  child/'  I  have  no 
objection  to  urge  against  the  truth  of  the  maxim — none  to  the  sage 
Sancho  who  in  his  wisdom  indited  it ;  but  I  must  frankly  confess  that, 
if  this  rule  in  mortal  man's  existence  be  invariable,  some  villain  destiny 
has  brought  the  two  extremes  (the  two  childhoods)  of  my  particular  life 
together,  and  I  am  afraid,  intends  to  defraud  me  entirely  of  the  middle 
term  :  for  (shall  I  confess  it  ?)  I  am  at  forty  in  some  respects  as  great  a 
child  as  I  was  at  ten.  Wordsworth  has  very  truly  said,  after  Dryden,* 
that 

"  The  child  is  father  to  the  man ;" 

and  it  is  only  to  be  regretted  that  the  child-father  cannot  keep  the  man 
his  son  under  more  subjection  in  his  riper  years.  Indeed,  it  would 
be  well  for  us  if  our  pursuits  as  men  were  as  innocent  as  our  pursuits  as 
children — our  crimes  would  then  be  as  venial,  and  their  punishment  as 
merciful. 

I  love  childish  shows — those  <f  trivial,  fond  records"- — and  my  Lord 
Mayor's  Show  usually  finds  me  a  gaping  observer  of  the  wonder  of  the 
9th  of  November.  But,  out  alas  !  if  there  is  one  honour  more  than 
another  which  illustrates  the  short-livedness  of  all  honours,  it  is  this 
preparatory  pageant  to  a  whole  year  of  honour.  There  is  something 
more  or  less  melancholy  in  all  grandeur,  and  more  or  less  ridiculous  in 
the  most  serious  exhibition  of  it :  if  these  sad  deductions  of  sad  experi- 
ence are  remarkable  in  one  solemnity  more  than  another,  it  is  in  "  My 
Lord  Mayor's  Show."  The  whole  design  of  the  pageant  is  so  incon- 
gruous, from  the  mixture  of  barbaric  pomp  (its  men  in  armour)  with 
modern  refinement  (its  men  in  broad  cloth)  —  so  cheerless,  from  the 
season  and  its  sure  circumstances  of  fog,  frost,  or  drenching  rain,  under 
one  or  more  of  which  it  yearly  takes  place,  that,  instead  of  being  a  grati- 
fication to  the  eye,  or  pleasing  to  our  sense  of  the  outward  glory  of 
public  homage,  it  passes  before  us  like  the  mockery  and  not  the  majesty 
of  pomp,  which  should  have  somewhat  of  the  poetry  of  pageantry,  or 
else  it  is  duller  than  a  twice-told  tale.  Yet  for  this  brief  glory,  good  men, 
and  therefore  good  citizens,  have  struggled  "through  evil  report  and 
good  report,"  and  having  enjoyed  it,  have  sat  down  contented  for  the  rest 
of  their  lives.  There  are  much  worse  ambitions  ;  and  it  is  well,  perhaps, 
that  this  is  so  short-lived:  the  best  governors  of  Rome  were  her  consuls 
for  a  year. 

My  first  "  Lord  Mayor's  Show"  occurred  in  that  happy  period  of 
life,  boyhood,  when  we  are  soonest  "  pleased  with  a  feather."  To  be 
sure,  a  dense  and  thoroughly  English  fog,  one  "  native  and  to  the 
manner  born," — one  of  unadulterated  Essex  home-manufacture,  did, 
both  on  its  going  forth  and  on  its  return,  make  f"  darkness  visible," 
obscured  the  glories  of  the  day,  and,  accompanied  with  a  sleety  sort  of 
drizzle,  rendered  the  paths  of  honour  as  slippery  as  the  sledge  at  Schaff- 
hausen.  But  what  to  me,  then,  were  these  accidental  drawbacks  upon 
the  great  occasion  !  True,  I  had  seen  what  I  went  out  to  see  as 
"  through  a  glass  darkly;1'  but  that  which  I  saw  not,  my  imagination 
exhibited — all  the  rest  was  "  leather  and  prunella/'  The  obscured 

*  "  The  priest  continues  what  the  nurse  began, 
And  thus  the  child  imposes  on  the  man." 

M.M.  New  Series.  VOL.  X.— No.  59.  3  S 


506  My  First  Lord  Mayors  SJioiv.  QNov 

glories  of  that  day  still  "  haunt  me  like  a  vision ;"  and  I  have  assisted 
at  no  Lord  Mayor's  Show  since,  without  an  undefinable  sense  of  something 
to  be  seen  which  I  had  somehow  not  seen. 

I  shall  not  soon  forget  that  first  illusion,  which,  if  I  had  not  studied 
the  programme,  I  might  now  suspect  I  had  not  beheld  with  these  eyes, 
but,  in  its  stead,  a  gayer  sort  of  funeral.  Yet  that  foreknowing  of  the  dram, 
pers.  of  that  dullest  of  all  the  dolorous  dramas  represented  on  this  stage, 
the  wdrld ;  that  bitter  fruit  of  knowledge,  which  I  had  intended  as  an 
olive  of  preparation  to  the  wine  of  delight,  did  too  well  inform  me  that 
I  had  seen  the  veritable  Lord  Mayor's  Show  of  November's  sober 
seriousness,  and  not  the  Lord  Mayor's  pageant  of  my  April  imagination. 
It  was  an  epoch  in  my  life ;  for  it  was  the  first  of  its  many  deceits  in 
which  I  was  undeceived.  The  show  of  my  preconceiving  was  indeed  a 
sight  to  have  seen ;  but  I  saw  the  real  Simon  Pure,  and  felt  that  all 
glory  here  is  but  "  a  naught,  a  thought,  a  pageant,  and  a  dream."  First 
impressions  are  last  impressions. 

It  was,  of  course,  a  dull,  dirty  November  day.  The  rains  which  at 
that  season  usually  drench  one  half  the  world,  leaving  the  other  half 
parching  with  thirst,  had  first  washed  the  city,  and  then  left  it  one 
weltering  kennel  of  mud.  However,  on  the  morning  of  the  day  big 
with  the  fate  of  Watson  or  of  Staines  (I  forget  which),  the  clouds 
contented  themselves  with  a  sleety  sort  of  drizzle,  a  kind  of  confectionery 
rain,  which,  under  pretence  of  powdering  you  all  over  with  a  sort  of 
candy  of  ice,  soaked  your  broadcloth  through  and  through.  At  ten,  the 
thick  air,  instead  of  melting  into  "  thin  air,"  grew  "  palpable  to  feeling 
as  to  sight:"  it  was  sullenly  stationary  at  eleven,  and  there  was  not  the 
sixteenth  of  a  hope  that  it  would  clear  off.  The  "  clink  of  hammers 
accomplishing  the  knights"  (who  needed  it),  and  "  closing  their  rivets 
up,"  gave  note  of  preparation.  In  a  few  minutes  more  a  foggy,  half- 
suffocated  cry  was  heard,  "  a  wandering  voice,"  from  one  end  of  Milk- 
street  to  the  other — "  They  come  !  they  come  !"  "  Where  ?  where  ?" 
was  the  response  j  and  the  glorious  vision  that  I  was  to  have  seen  passed 
unbeheld  away,  with  all  its  banners,  bannerets,  bandy  drummers,  foot- 
men, knights,  coaches,  carts,  common-councilmen,  tumbrels,  and  common 
stage-waggons,  through  an  admiring  mob,  equally  imperceptible.  The 
darkness  swallowed  all. 

Having  by  some  mysterious  instinct,  with  which  nature,  when  she 
located  that  people  of  Britain  called  cockneys,  on  the  northern  shore 
of  the  Thames,  must  have  abundantly  gifted  them,  found  their  unseen 
way  to  Blackfriars,  the  Bight  Honourable  and  his  retinue  took  water, 
and  felt  out  their  way  by  the  piles  standing  along  the  shore,  to  West- 
minster, where  landing  "  all  well,"  the  common- serjeant,  with  an 
instinct  natural  to  a  lawyer,  made  Westminster  Hall,  and  led  "  the 
splendid  annual"  within  its  legal  gates.  Certain  mummeries  being  gone 
through,  as  well  as  the  official  labours  of  a  hearty  refection,  the  "  corpo- 
rative capacity"  of  London  paddled  its  way  patiently  from  Westminster, 
clearing  the  small  craft  with  a  nautical  skill  never  sufficiently  to  be 
wondered  at  and  admired;  and  miraculously  weathered  Blackfriars- 
bridge,  in  total  safety,  thanks  to  the  skill  of  the  pilot  at  the  helm  of 
city-admiralty  affairs,  to  whom  the  dark  dangers  of  both  shores  were 
as  familiar  as  posts  and  corners  to  a  blind  man. 

Here  the  day,  as  if  it  relented  in  its  spiteful  intention  of  damping 
the  general  joy  and  the  corporative  glory,  smiled  a  momentary  smile ; 


1830.]  My  First  Lord  Mayor's  Show.  507 

and  the  fog  dissipating,  within  the  circumference  of  fifty  yards,  it  was 
perceived  that  the  brave  pageant  was  again  marshalled ;  and  Solomon, 
in  all  his  glory,  for  some  moments  seemed  something  less  than  Staines. 
It  was  but  in  mockery  of  the  hopes  of  man  j  for  ere  the  word  "  forward  !" 
could  be  given,  the  Sun,  who  had  been  struggling  in  vain  to  get  a  glance 
into  the  city,  all  at  once  gave  it  up  as  hopeless,  and  retired  to  Thetis* 
lap,  in  the  afternoon,  instead  of  the  evening. 

And  now  all  was  "  dark  as  Erebus,  and  black  as  night."  Genius, 
what  a  gift  is  thine  !  Some  more  enlightened  citizen,  darkling  without, 
but  bright  within,  suggested  the  bare  possibility  of  procuring  a  dozen 
or  two  of  links,  and  like  a  gallant  soldier  adventuring  with  a  forlorn 
hope,  himself  led  the  way  to  the  nearest  oilman's.  The  "  ineffectual 
fire"  was  procured ;  and  never  was  it  more  necessary,  for  thicker  rolled 
the  fog,  dimmer  and  more  dubious  grew  the  way,  and  more  and  more 
like  night  became  the  day.  "  Forward !"  was  again  the  cry,  and  the 
procession  moved  through  the  mud  and  mob,  in  a  manner  truly 
moving. 

And  first  came,  beating  out  the  way,  to  keep  the  press  at  peace,  the 
city  peace-officers,  breaking  it  all  the  way  they  went.  After  these 
followed  a  number  of  matronly  old  gentlemen  called  bachelors,  in  blue 
gowns,  and  in  woollen  night-caps  of  blue  and  white,  carrying  themselves 
under  the  weight  of  years  and  beer  with  great  difficulty,  but  their 
flagging  banners  with  more.  Three  times  the  word  to  halt  ran  along 
the  line ;  but  these  venerables  were  either  so  deaf  that  they  did  not 
hear  the  command,  or  hearing  it,  mistook  its  tenor,  and  thought  it  but 
superfluous  idleness  to  bid  those  to  halt  who  already  halted.  Next  to 
these  "  most  potent,  grave,  and  reverend"  seniors,  came  the  under  city- 
marshal  on  horseback — an  attendant  picking  out  the  way  for  him.  Then 
a  band  of  musicians,  when  their  asthmas  would  permit  them,  playing 
very  pathetically  (as  if  in  mockery  of  those  who  could  see  nothing) 
"  See,  the  conquering  hero  comes!"  Two  trumpeters  now  tried  to  rend 
the  air,  and  between  them  a  kettle-drum  sounded,  as  if  muffled,  for 
both  catgut  and  parchment  had  relaxed  under  the  moist  fingers  of  the 
morn,  and  their  mimic  thunder  was  now  mute. 

After  these  came  a  juvenile  as  an  ancient  herald,  bare-headed ;  and 
then  a  standard-bearer,  in  half-armour,  which  was  no  doubt  exceedingly 
sparkling  and  burnished  in  the  morning,  but  now,  like  Satan,  had  lost 
its  "  original  brightness,"  and  looked  "  like  glory  for  awhile  obscured." 
Certain  half-famished  squires  dogged  his  heels,  their  upper  halves  per- 
spiring to  parboiling  under  the  warmth  of  flannel-lined  armour,  but 
their  lower  man  sitting  as  cold  in  their  saddles  as  Charles  at  Charing- 
cross.  Next  came  an  ancient  knight  in  a  suit  of  scale-armour,  looking 
like  an  amphibious  fish  on  horseback,  and  just  as  wet  as  one ;  and  two 
other  trumpeters,  exploding  something  like  the  choke-damp  of  mines 
out  of  their  trumpets,  in  "  strains  it  was  a  misery  to  hear."  And  now, 
another  knight,  in  the  iron  armour  of  King  Harry,  came  toppling 
along,  to  shew  the  admiring  age  how  much  the  strength  of  man  was 
decreased  since  the  days  of  sack  and  Shakspeare :  for  now  he  bent  on 
this  side,  and  now  on  the  other,  like  a  reed  shaken  by  the  wind.  You 
might  have  thought  him  the  most  courteous  of  knights,  and  these 
deviations  from  the  perpendicular  but  knightly  recognitions  of  the 
damsels  he  would  have  tilted  for,  if  need  were,  in  the  listed  field.  His 

3  S  2 


508  My  First  Lord  Mayors  Show.  [Nov. 

trumpeters  tore  the  air  to  tatters  about  him,  and  he  passed  away,  like 
the  shadow  of  the  strength  and  the  youth  of  chivalry. 

Eureka  !  eureka  !  The  crushing  car  of  the  Juggernaut  of  the  show 
now  rolled  along,  kneading  the  mud  under  its  golden  wheels.  The 
mobility  darted  inquiring  looks  in  at  the  open  windows,  which  the  mace- 
bearer  and  sword-bearer  completely  filled,  and  saw  they  could  not  see 
the  Mayor  for  the  mist,  which  enveloped  him  as  with  an  extra  civic 
garment.  Up  went  a  shout,  however,  that  seemed  to  stagger  the  state- 
coach  ;  for  it  swaggered  from  the  left  to  the  right  of  Bridge-street,  as  if 
undecided  on  which  side  to  spill  its  right-honourable  contents :  but  the 
mace-bearer  shifting  his  seat  a  little,  she  righted  with  a  heavy  lurch, 
as  a  broad-bottomed  Dutch  brig  adjusts  herself  in  a  gale.  Next  came 
the  retiring  Mayor,  some  distance  in  the  rear,  and  in  much  seeming 
hurry  to  overtake  his  successor,  as  if  he  felt  he  was  too  late  even  for  the 
late  Lord  Mayor. 

It  was  now  no  very  easy  task  to  tell  an  alderman's  coach  from  his  coal- 
waggon,  save  by  the  polite  difference  between  the  oaths  of  the  driver  of 
one  and  the  other.  The  elder  aldermen  were,  however,  distinguishable 
by  their  asthmas,  the  younger  by  their  sneezing.  After  these  came  the 
ominous-browed  Recorder  ;  then  the  Sheriffs,  brilliant  and  benighted  ; 
then  that  love  and  loathing  of  good  and  bad  apprentices — the  kindly, 
veteran  Chamberlain ;  then  the  Remembrancer ;  and  the  Foreign  Am- 
bassadors, wondering  every  one,  save  him  of  Holland,  at  the  climate. 
Then  the  Judges,  enveloped  in  wig  and  darkness ;  and,  after  them, 
several  understood  persons  of  distinction,  who  could  by  no  means  be 
distinguished.  By  the  time  that  the  head  and  tail  of  the  procession  had 
wound  round  St.  Paul's,  like  the  serpent  round  the  Laocoon,  and  had 
reached  Cheapside,  the  last  link  was  burnt  out ;  and  the  finery  of  the 
first  footmen  was  as  dingy  and  undiscernible  as  the  fluttering  rags  of  the 
merry  bootless  and  shoeless  boys  who  shouted  before  them,  as  if  they 
would  have  drowned  the  clamour  of  Bow-bells  with  their  "  most  sweet 
voices." 

Such  was  "  my  first  Lord  Mayor's  Show/'  and  " let  it  be  the  last :"  the 
undeceiving  of  all  my  imaginations  of  it  I  have  not  yet  forgiven  in  the 
Lord  Mayors'  Shows  of  other  years.  The  general  impression  that  it 
was  a  melancholy  sight,  has  ever  since  affected  me ;  and  I  am  not  sin- 
gular in  this  feeling ;  for  an  ingenious  friend  of  mine,  who  has  illus- 
trated Burton's  "  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,"  among  the  other  heads  into 
which  he  divides  that  hydra-like  volume,  has  one  which  he  calls  "  the 
Lord  Mayor's  Show  Melancholy,"  a  mental  phantasma,  which  visits 
his  imagination  yearly  on  the  ninth  of  November,  at  which  time  he  is 
impressed  with  the  constant  passing  and  repassing  of  a  dim  and  half- 
perceivable  show  of  much-supposed  splendour,  which  gropes  its  way 
through  the  Bosotian  fog  and  Stygian  darkness ;  and  then  turning  about, 
hey  presto  !  there  repasses  a  long-continued  line  of  mourning-coaches,  as 
if  to  shew  the  serious  vanity  and  ultimate  end  of  all  human  splendour. 

C.  W. 


1830.]  [    509    ] 

A    CHAPTER    ON    EDITORS  I    BY    THE    LATE    WILLIAM    HAZLITT. 

"Our  withers  are  unwrung." 

EDITORS  are  (to  use  an  approved  Scotch  phrase — for  what  that  is 
Scotch  is  not  approved?)  a  "  sort  of  tittle-tattle" — difficult  to  deal  with, 
dangerous  to  discuss.  "  A  capital  subject  for  an  article,  great  scope, 
complete  novelty,  and  ground  never  touched  upon  !"  Very  true  ;  for 
what  Editor  would  insert  an  article  against  himself?  Certainly  none 
that  did  not  feel  himself  free  from  and  superior  to  the  common  foibles  of 
his  tribe.*  What  might,  therefore,  be  taken  for  a  satire  in  manuscript, 
turns  to  a  compliment  in  print — the  exception  in  this,  as  in  other  cases, 
proves  the  rule — an  inference  which  we  have  endeavoured  to  express  in 
our  motto. 

With  one  exception,  then,  Editors  in  general  partake  of  the  usual 
infirmity  of  human  nature,  and  of  persons  placed  in  high  and  honorary 
situations.  Like  other  individuals  raised  to  authority,  they  are  chosen 
to  fill  a  certain  post  for  qualities  useful  or  ornamental  to  the  reading 
public ;  but  they  soon  fancy  that  the  situation  has  been  invented  for 
their  own  honour  and  profit,  and  sink  the  use  in  the  abuse.  Kings  .-ire 
not  the  only  servants  of  the  public  who  imagine  that  they  are  the  state. 
Editors  are  but  men,  and  easily  "  lay  the  flattering  unction  to  their 
souls"  that  they  are  the  Magazine,  the  Newspaper,  or  the  Review  they 
conduct.  They  have  got  a  little  power  in  their  hands,  and  they  wish  to 
employ  that  power  (as  all  power  is  employed)  to  increase  the  sense  of 
self-importance ;  they  borrow  a  certain  dignity  from  their  situation  as 
arbiters  and  judges  of  taste  and  elegance,  and  they  are  determined  to 
keep  it  to  the  detriment  of  their  employers  and  of  every  one  else.  They 
are  dreadfully  afraid  there  should  be  any  thing  behind  the  Editor's 
chair,  greater  than  the  Editor's  chair.  That  is  a  scandal  to  be  prevented 
at  all  risks.  The  publication  they  are  entrusted  with  for  the  amusement 
and  edification  of  the  town,  they  convert,  in  theory  and  practice,  into  a 
stalking-horse  of  their  own  vanity,  whims,  and  prejudices.  They  can- 
not write  a  whole  work  themselves,  but  they  take  care  that  the  whole 
is  such  as  they  might  have  written :  it  is  to  have  the  Editor's  mark,  like 
the  broad  R,  on  every  page,  or  the  N.  N.  at  the  Tuilleries;  it  is  to 
bear  the  same  image  and  superscription — every  line  is  to  be  upon  oath  : 
nothing  is  to  be  differently  conceived  or  better  expressed  than  the  Editor 
could  have  done  it.  The  whole  begins  in  vanity,  and  ends  too  often  in 
dulness  and  insipidity. 

It  is  utterly  impossible  to  persuade  an  Editor  that  he  is  nobody. 
As  Mr.  Home  Tooke  said,  on  his  trial  for  a  libel  before  Lord  Ken- 
yon,  "  There  are  two  parties  in  this  cause  —  myself  and  the  jury  ; 
the  judge  and  the  crier  of  the  court  attend  in  thair  respective  places:" 
so  in  every  periodical  miscellany,  there  are  two  essential  parties  — 
the  writers  and  the  public ;  the  Editor  and  the  printer 's-devil  are 
merely  the  mechanical  instruments  to  bring  them  together.  There 
is  a  secret  consciousness  of  this  on  the  part  of  the  Conductor  of  the 
Literary  Diligence,  that  his  place  is  one  for  shew  and  form  rather  than 
use ;  and  as  he  cannot  maintain  his  pretended  superiority  by  what  he 

*  We  give  insertion  to  this  article,  one  of  the  posthumous  papers  of  Mr.  Hazlitt,  to 
shew  that  we  do  not  consider  ourselves  implicated  in  the  abuses  complained  of;  and  that 
we  have  no  right  to  any  share  of  the  indignation  so  whimsically  lavished  upon  our  fra- 
ternity.— Ed. 


510  A  Chapter  on  Editors.  [Nov. 

does  himself,  he  thinks  to  arrive  at  the  satne  end  by  hindering  others 
from  doing  their  best.  The  "  dog-in-the-manger"  principle  comes  into 
full  play.  If  an  article  has  nothing  to  recommend  it,  is  one  of  no  mark 
or  likelihood,  it  goes  in ;  there  is  no  offence  in  it.  If  it  is  likely  to 
strike,  to  draw  attention,  to  make  a  noise,  then  every  syllable  is  scanned, 
every  objection  is  weighed  :  if  grave,  it  is  too  grave  ;  if  witty,  it  is  too 
witty.  One  way  or  other,  it  might  be  better ;  and  while  this  nice  point  is 
pending,  it  gives  place,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  something  that  there  is  no 
question  about. 

The  responsibility,  the  delicacy,  the  nervous  apprehension  of  the  Edi- 
tor, naturally  increase  with  the  probable  effect  and  popularity  of  the  con- 
tributions on  which  he  has  to  pass  judgment ;  and  the  nearer  an  effusion 
approaches  to  perfection,  the  more  fatal  is  a  single  flaw,  or  its  falling 
short  of  that  superhuman  standard  by  a  hair's-breadth  difference,  to  its 
final  reception.  If  people  are  likely  to  ask,  "  Who  wrote  a  certain 

paper  in  the  last  number  of  • ?"  the  Editor  is  bound,  as  a  point 

of  honour,  to  baulk  that  impertinent  curiosity  on  the  part  of  the  public. 
He  would  have  it  understood  that  all  the  articles  are  equally  good,  and 
may  be  equally  his  own.  If  he  inserts  a  paper  of  more  than  the  allowed 
average  merit,  his  next  care  is  to  spoil  by  revising  it.  The  sting,  with 
the  honey,  is  sure  to  be  left  out.  If  there  is  any  thing  that  pleased  you 
in  the  writing,  you  look  in  vain  for  it  in  the  proof.  What  might  elec- 
trify the  reader,  startles  the  Editor.  With  a  paternal  regard  for  the 
interests  of  the  public,  he  takes  care  that  their  tastes  should  not  be 
pampered,  and  their  expectations  raised  too  high,  by  a  succession  of  fine 
passages,  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  continue  a  supply.  He  interposes 
between  the  town  and  their  vicious  appetite  for  the  piquant  and  high- 
seasoned,  as  we  forbid  children  to  indulge  in  sweetmeats.  The  trite  and 
superficial  are  always  to  be  had  to  order,  and  present  a  beautiful  unifor- 
mity of  appearance.  There  is  no  unexpected  relief,  no  unwelcome  ine- 
quality of  style,  to  disorder  the  nerves  or  perplex  the  understanding : 
the  reader  may  read,  and  smile,  and  sleep,  without  meeting  a  single 
idea  to  break  his  repose ! 

Some  Editors,  moreover,  have  a  way  of  altering  the  first  paragraph  : 
they  have  then  exercised  their  privileges,  and  let  you  alone  for  the 
rest  of  the  chapter.  This  is  like  paying  "  a  pepper-corn  rent/' 
or  making  one's  bow  on  entering  a  room:  it  is  being  let  off  cheap. 
Others  add  a  pointless  conclusion  of  their  own  :  it  is  like  signing  their 
names  to  the  article.  Some  have  a  passion  for  sticking  in  the  word 
however  at  every  opportunity,  in  order  to  impede  the  march  of  the  style; 
and  others  are  contented  and  take  great  pains  (with  Lindley  Murray's 
Grammar  lying  open  before  them)  to  alter  "  if  it  is"  into  "  if  it  be."  An 
Editor  abhors  an  ellipsis.  If  you  fling  your  thoughts  into  continued  pas- 
sages, they  set  to  work  to  cut  them  up  into  short  paragraphs :  if  you 
make  frequent  breaks,  they  turn  the  tables  on  you  that  way,  and  throw 
the  whole  composition  into  masses.  Any  thing  to  preserve  the  form  and 
appearance  of  power,  to  make  the  work  their  own  by  mental  stratagem, 
to  stamp  it  by  some  fiction  of  criticism  with  their  personal  identity,  to 
enable  them  to  run  away  with  the  credit,  and  look  upon  themselves  as 
the  master-spirits  of  the  work  and  of  the  age  !  If  there  is  any  point  they 
do  not  understand,  they  are  sure  to  meddle  with  it,  and  mar  the  sense ; 
for  it  piques  their  self-love,  and  they  think  they  are  bound  ex-officio  to 
know  better  than  the  writer.  Thus  they  substitute  (at  a  venture,  and 
merely  for  the  sake  of  altering)  one  epithet  for  another,  when  perhaps 


1830.J  A  Chapter  on  Editors.  511 

the  same  word  has  occurred  just  before,  and  produces  a  cruel  tautology, 
never  considering  the  trouble  you  have  taken  to  compare  the  context 
and  vary  the  phraseology. 

Editors  have  no  misplaced  confidence  in  the  powers  of  their  contri- 
butors :  they  think  by  the  supposition  they  must  be  in  the  right 
from  a  single  supercilious  glance, — and  you  in  the  wrong,  after  poring 
over  a  subject  for  a  month.  There  are  Editors  who,  if  you  insert  the 
name  of  a  popular  actor  or  artist,  strike  it  out,  and,  in  virtue  of  their 
authority,  insert  a  favourite  of  their  own, — as  a  dexterous  attorney  sub- 
stitutes the  name  of  a  friend  in  a  will.  Some  Editors  will  let  you  praise 
nobody ;  others  will  let  you  blame  nobody.  The  first  excites  their 
jealousy  of  contemporary  merit :  the  last  excites  their  fears,  and  they 
do  not  like  to  make  enemies.  Some  insist  upon  giving  no  opinion  at  all, 
and  observe  an  unarmed  neutrality  as  to  all  parties  and  persons ; — it  is  no 
wonder  the  world  think  very  little  of  them  in  return.  Some  Editors 
stand  upon  their  characters  for  this ;  others  for  that.  Some  pique  them- 
selves upon  being  genteel  and  well-dressed ;  others  on  being  moral  and 
immaculate,  and  do  not  perceive  that  the  public  never  trouble  their 
heads  about  the  matter.  We  only  know  one  Editor  who  openly  discards 
all  regard  to  character  and  decency,  and  who  thrives  by  the  dissolution 
of  partnership,  if  indeed  the  articles  were  ever  drawn  up.  We  shall 
not  mention  names,  as  we  would  not  advertise  a  work  that  "  ought  to 
lie  on  no  gentleman's  table."  Some  Editors  drink  tea  with  a  set  of  blue 
stockings  and  literary  ladies :  not  a  whisper,  not  a  breath  that  might  blow 
away  those  fine  cobwebs  of  the  brain — 

"  More  subtle  web  Arachne  cannot  spin  ; 

Nor  those  fine  threads  which  oft  we  woven  see 

Of  scorched  dew,  do  not  in  the  air  more  lightly  flee  !" 

Others  dine  with  Lords  and  Academicians — for  God's  sake,  take  care 
what  you  say  !  Would  you  strip  the  Editor's  mantel-piece  of  the  cards 
of  invitation  that  adorn  it  to  select  parties  for  the  next  six  months  ?  An 
Editor  takes  a  turn  in  St.  James' s-street,  and  is  congratulated  by  the 
successive  literary  or  political  groups  on  all  he  does  not  write  j  and  when 
the  mistake  is  found  out,  the  true  Simon  Pure  is  dismissed.  We  have 
heard  that  it  was  well  said  by  the  proprietors  of  a  leading  journal,  that 
he  would  take  good  care  never  to  write  a  line  in  his  own  paper,  as  he 
had  conflicting  interests  enough  to  manage,  without  adding  literary 
jealousies  to  the  number.  On  the  other  hand,  a  very  good-natured  and 
warm-hearted  individual  declared,  "  he  would  never  have  another  man 
of  talents  for  an  Editor"  (the  Editor,  in  this  case,  is  to  the  proprietor 
as  the  author  to  the  Editor),  "  for  he  was  tired  of  having  their  good 
things  thrust  in  his  teeth."  Some  Editors  are  scrubs,  mere  drudges, 
newspaper-puffs :  others  are  bullies  or  quacks  :  others  are  nothing  at  all 
— they  have  the  name,  and  receive  a  salary  for  it !  A  literary  sinecure 
is  at  once  lucrative  and  highly  respectable.  At  Lord's-Ground  there 
are  some  old  hands  that  are  famous  for  "  blocking  out  and  staying  in :" 
it  would  seem  that  some  of  our  literary  veterans  had  taken  a  lesson  from 
their  youthful  exercises  at  Harrow  or  Eton. 

All  this  is  bad  enough ;  but  the  worst  is,  that  Editors,  besides  their 

;3Wii  failings,  have  friends  who  aggravate  and  take  advantage  of  them. 
These  self-styled  friends  are  the  night-shade  and  hemlock  clinging 
;o  the  work,  preventing  its  growth  and  circulation,  and  dropping  a 


512  A  Chapter  on  Editors.  [Nov. 

slumberous  poison  from  its  jaundiced  leaves.  They  form  a  cordon, 
an  opake  mass  round  the  Editor,  and  persuade  him  that  they  are  the 
support,  the  prop,  and  pillar  of  his  reputation.  They  get  between 
him  and  the  public,  and  shut  out  the  light,  and  set  aside  common-sense. 
They  pretend  anxiety  for  the  interest  of  some  established  organ  of  opi- 
nion, while  all  they  want  is  to  make  it  the  organ  of  their  dogmas,  pre- 
judices, or  party.  They  want  to  be  the  Magazine  or  the  Review — to 
wield  that  power  covertly,  to  warp  that  influence  to  their  own  purposes. 
If  they  cannot  do  this,  they  care  not  if  it  sinks  or  swims.  They  pre- 
judge every  question — fly-blow  every  writer  who  is  not  of  their  own 

set.     A  friend  of  theirs  has  three  articles  in  the  last  number  of ; 

they  strain  every  nerve  and  make  pressing  instances  to  throw  a  slur  on 
a  popular  contribution  by  another  hand,  in  order  that  he  may  write  a 
fourth  in  the  next  number.  The  short  articles  which  are  read  by  the 
vulgar,  are  cut  down  to  make  room  for  the  long  ones,  which  are  read  by 
nobody  but  the  writers  and  their  friends.  If  an  opinion  is  expressed 
contrary  to  the  shibboleth  of  the  party,  it  is  represented  as  an  outrage  on 
decency  and  public  opinion,  when  in  truth  the  public  are  delighted  with 
the  candour  and  boldness  displayed.  They  would  convert  a  valuable 
and  spirited  journal  into  a  dull  pamphleteer,  stuffed  with  their  own 
lucubrations  on  certain  heavy  topics.  The  self-importance  of  these 
people  is  in  proportion  to  their  insignificance ;  and  what  they  cannot 
do  by  an  appeal  to  argument  or  sound  policy,  they  effect  by  importunity 
and  insinuation.  They  keep  the  Editor  in  continual  alarm  as  to  what 
will  be  said  of  him  by  the  public,  when  in  fact  the  public  will  think  (in 
nine  cases  out  often)  just  what  he  tells  them. 

These  people  create  much  of  the  mischief.  An  Editor  should  have 
no  friends — his  only  prompter  should  be  the  number  of  copies  of  the 
work  that  sell.  It  is  superfluous  to  strike  off  a  large  .impression  of  a 
work  for  those  few  squeamish  persons  who  prefer  lead  to  tinsel.  Prin- 
ciple and  good  manners  are  barriers  that  are,  in  our  estimate,  invio- 
lable: the  rest  is  open  to  popular  suffrage,  and  is  not  to  be  pre- 
judged by  a  coterie  with  closed  doors.  Another  difficulty  lies  here.  An 
Editor  should,  in  one  sense,  be  a  respectable  man— a  distinguished  cha- 
racter ;  otherwise,  he  cannot  lend  his  name  and  sanction  to  the  work. 
The  conductor  of  a  periodical  production  which  is  to  circulate  widely 
and  give  the  tone  to  taste  and  opinion,  ought  to  be  of  high  standing, 
should  have  connections  with  society,  should  belong  to  some  literary 
institution,  should  be  courted  by  the  great,  be  run  after  by  the  obscure. 
But  tc  here's  the  rub" — that  one  so  graced  and  gifted  can  neither  have 
his  time  nor  thoughts  to  himself.  Our  obligations  are  mutual ;  and 
those  who  owe  much  to  others,  become  the  slaves  of  their  good  opinion 
and  good  word.  He  who  dines  out  loses  his  free  agency.  He  may 
improve  in  politeness ;  he  falls  off  in  the  pith  and  pungency  of  his 
style.  A  poem  is  dedicated  to  the  son  of  the  Muses : — can  the  critic 
do  otherwise  than  praise  it  ?  A  tragedy  is  brought  out  by  a  noble  friend 
and  patron  : — the  severe  rules  of  the  drama  must  yield  in  some  measure 

to  the  amenities  of  private  life.     On  the  contrary,  Mr. is  a  gar- 

retteer — a  person  that  nobody  knows ;  his  work  has  nothing  but  the 
contents  to  recommend  it ;  it  sinks  into  obscurity,  or  addresses  itself  to 
the  canaille.  An  Editor,  then,  should  be  an  abstraction — a  being  in  the 
clouds — a  mind  without  a  body — reason  without  passion.— —But  where 
find  such  a  one  ? 


1830.]  [    513    ] 

ADVENTURES    IN     COLOMBIA REPUBLICAN    PERFIDY. 

THE  day  had  been  sultry ;  but  the  oppressive  heat  began  now  to 
subside  before  the  cool  and  refreshing  sea-breeze,  as  it  rippled  the  cur- 
rent of  the  Orinoco  river,  upon  the  wide  and  transparent  surface  of 
which  was  reflected  the  starry  canopy  above.  Not  a  cloud  dimmed 
the  brightness  of  the  firmament.  On  such  a  night  all  nature  seemed 
invited  to  repose.  Man,  whilst  contemplating  its  placid  beauties,  might 
forego  the  indulgence  of  every  baneful  passion,  and  even  ambition  enjoy 
a  short  respite  from  the  fever  of  her  restlessness. 

Such  at  least  were  the  thoughts  of  Edward  Winton,  as  he  gazed  on 
the  scene  I  have  just  described  from  a  raised  platform  which  overhung 
the  river,  and  supported  six  long-nines,  intended  as  a  defensive  battery 
to  protect  the  town  of  San  Tomas  de  Angostura,  which  rose  with  a  gra- 
dual ascent  immediately  in  its  rear ;  and  as  he  rested  his  arm  against 
one  of  the  guns,  his  heart  beat  in  unison  with  the  calmness  of  the 
scene.  He  forgot  for  a  moment  all  his  worldly  speculations,  and  the 
calculating  merchant  became  absorbed  in  the  reflective  man. 

Edward  Winton  was  born  at  ,  in  the  west  of  England,  of 

respectable  parents.  His  father  had  amassed  a  handsome  property  by 
mercantile  pursuits,  and  which  (though  possessed  of  ample  means  to 
enjoy  the  otium  cum  dignitate)  he  still  continued  to  follow,  with  the  sole 
intention  of  initiating  his  son  into  the  mysteries  of  commerce.  After 
acquiring  a  competent  preparatory  knowledge  of  pounds,  shillings,  and 
pence,  from  a  pedagogue  in  his  native  town,  young  Edward  was  duly 
inducted  into  his  father's  counting-house,  where  his  constant  assiduity  and 
laudable  perseverance  in  accomplishing  himself  in  the  useful  and  pro- 
fitable art  of  buying  and  selling,  so  endeared  him  to  the  old  man's  affec- 
tions, that  he  fitted  out  a  vessel  with  a  valuable  cargo  for  the  Brazils, 
which,  with  letters  of  recommendation  to  one  of  the  principal  houses  at 
Rio  Janeiro,  he  presented  to  his  son ;  and  thus  young  Ned,  at  the  early 
age  of  fifteen,  found  himself  a  trader  upon  his  own  account.  Neither  did 
he  deceive  the  confidence  his  father  reposed  in  him,  or  swerve  from  his 
former  conduct.  He  arrived,  after  a  prosperous  voyage,  at  the  place  of 
his  destination,  and  by  the  aid  of  those  to  whom  he  had  been  addressed, 
disposed  of  his  merchandize  to  considerable  advantage.  The  encou- 
ragement which  he  felt  at  this  first  success  induced  him  to  settle  at 
Rio  Janeiro ;  and  he  continued  to  receive,  at  stated  intervals,  large  con- 
signments from  his  father,  by  the  help  of  which,  and  his  own  industry, 
he  rapidly  accumulated  an  independent  fortune.  Several  years'  resi- 
dence added  to  his  prosperity  and  renown  ;  and  the  wealthy  Englishman 
was  courted  by  the  highest,  and  respected  by  all  classes  of  the  Brazi- 
lian people.  His  fame  even  reached  the  court,  and  the  then  reigning 
sovereign,  Don  John  of  Portugal,  condescended  to  intimate  his  intention 
of  favouring  Mr.  Winton  with  a  visit  at  a  villa  which  the  latter  possessed 
a  few  miles  distant  from  the  capital,  and  which  had  been  fitted  up  in 
the  true  English  style — splendour  and  comfort  combined.  Edward 
Winton  would  have  willingly  dispensed  with  the  honour  which  the 
Portuguese  monarch  designed  to  pay  him ;  but  there  was  no  visible 
means  of  avoiding  it,  and  he  yielded  to  necessity,  comforting  himself 
with  the  anticipated  satisfaction  of  displaying  to  royalty  the  magnificence 
of  a  British  merchant.  On  the  eve  preceding  the  royal  visit,  he 

M.M.  New  Series.^- VOL.  X.  No.  59.  3  T 


514  Adventures  in  Colombia.  [Nov 

departed  for  his  country  residence,  in  order  to  superintend  the  requisite 
preparations  ;  the  next  day,  when  the  "  Illustrissimo  Senhor"  and  suite 
made  their  appearance,  he  stood  at  his  door  ready  to  receive  and  wel- 
come them  with  all  the  genuine  warmth  of  English  hospitality. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  an  observance  of  the  common  rules  of  deco- 
rum prohibits  me  from  relating  how  the  monarch  returned  this  hospitable 
reception.  The  subject  is  of  too  gross  and  degrading  a  nature  to  admit 
of  even  a  hint  at  it.  The  world,  therefore,  must  be  spared  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  how  far  a  creature  appointed  to  preside  over  society, 
may  forget  what  is  due  to  it ;  and  how  utterly  low,  vulgar,  and  despi- 
cable it  is  possible  for  a  monarch  to  become.  Perhaps,  after  all,  such  a 
violation  of  decency  as  that  to  which  I  allude — an  act  of  the  grossest 
indelicacy  committed  in  the  most  sumptuous  apartment  of  his  enter- 
tainer— would  fail  to  excite  credibility,  except  in  those  to  whom  the 
dirty  habits  of  Don  John  are  known.  I  shall  merely  add,  therefore, 
that  scandal  with  her  hundred  tongues  gave  as  many  different  ver- 
sions of  the  occurrence;  and  on  Winton's  return  to  the  metropolis, 
he  found  himself  the  butt  at  which  ridicule  aimed  its  shafts.  He  had 
not  philosophy  enough  to  join  in  a  laugh  at  his  own  expense,  but  took 
it  so  much  to  heart  that  he  neglected  his  commercial  pursuits,  and  con- 
fined himself  to  the  privacy  of  his  own  house.  From  this  state  of 
uneasiness  he  was  relieved  by  a  letter  from  England,  acquainting  him 
with  his  father's  illness,  and  advising  his  immediate  return  to  that 
country.  He  embraced  the  excuse  with  avidity  ;  and  having,  with  as 
little  delay  as  possible,  completed  the  necessary  arrangements  for  his 
voyage,  he  bade  a  final  adieu  to  a  land  which  furnished  him  with  many 
grateful  and  pleasing  recollections,  counterbalanced  only  by  the  remi- 
niscence of  one  painful  event. 

He  shortly  after  embarked  for  Jamaica;  here  he  became  acquainted  with 
Simon  Bolivar,  whom  he  assisted  with  considerable  advances  of  money, 
and  ultimately  accompanied  to  the  Spanish  main  ;  and  we  find  him  now 
leaning  upon  a  cannon,  one  hour  after  sunset,  on  a  platform  in  front  of 
the  town  of  San  Tomas  de  Angostura,  enjoying  the  cool  evening  breeze, 
contemplating  the  majestic  appearance  of  the  Orinoco  river,  the  grandeur 
of  the  surrounding  scenery,  and  indulging  in  the  reflection  with  which  I 
first  introduced  him  to  the  reader's  notice. 

The  political  horizon  of  Venezuela  at  this  period,  wore  a  lowering 
aspect,  and  Edward  Winton  might  have  been  excused  for  indulging 
reveries  of  a  less  pleasing  nature ;  he  had  thrown  nearly  his  whole 
fortune  into  the  scale,  and  the  balance  appeared  to  preponderate  against 
him.  The  Spanish  General  Morillo  had  just  proved  victor  in  the  battle 
of  Calaboza,  and  Bolivar  had  retired  upon  San  Fernando,  on  the  Apure  ; 
in  fact,  the  republican  commander  and  his  army  owed  their  momentary 
safety  to  the  cavalry  of  the  redoutable  Paez,  who  had  with  distinguished 
courage  protected  the  retreat.  The  renown  which  the  latter  chieftain 
obtained  by  this  brilliant  achievement  was  wormwood  to  Bolivar,  whose 
envious  disposition  could  ill  brook  a  rival  in  fame.  This  man's  character, 
altogether,  appears  to  have  been  most  woefully  mistaken  by  Europeans 
in  general ;  he  has  been  deemed  unassuming,  unambitious,  an  adept  in 
military  tactics ;  in  short,  he  has  been  held  up  (by  his  partizans)  to  the 
estimation  of  the  world  as  a  second  Washington.  Those  who  best  know 
him,  however,  are  fully  aware  of  the  absurdity  of  the  comparison ;  these 


1830.]  Republican  Perfidy.  515 

well  knew  the  patriot  leader  to  be  arrogant  in  his  deportment,  ambitious 
in  his  disposition,  despotic  in  his  principles,  and  a  very  tyro  in  military 
attainments.  Whilst  I  expose  his  defects  let  me  not  be  wilfully  blind 
to  his  merits.  Justice  demands  the  confession  that  he  possesses,  in  an 
eminent  degree,  a  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  the  best  means  of 
making  it  subservient  to  his  purposes,  combined  with  an  unwearied 
perseverance.  Neither  is  he  by  any  means  deficient  in  personal  courage ; 
on  the  reverse,  he  has  in  several  instances  rendered  himself  amenable 
to  the  accusation  of  rashness.  Enjoying  the  advantages  of  a  liberal 
education,  he  speaks  French  with  the  fluency  of  a  native ;  in  English, 
he  is  likewise  a  tolerable  proficient,  but  whether  from  diffidence,  dislike, 
or  some  political  motive,  after  the  arrival  of  the  British,  who  had 
volunteered  to  aid  the  republican  cause,  he  could  never  be  induced  to 
converse  in  that  language,  and  on  some  occasions,  even  pleaded 
ignorance  of  it,  though  1  have  reason  to  know,  that  he  could  both 
understand  and  speak  it  with  facility.  Simon  Bolivar,  when  it  suits  his 
convenience,  can  evince  the  urbanity  of  a  gentleman ;  so  can  he,  also,  the 
sternness  of  a  despot.  The  following  anecdote  which  I  have  heard 
related,  may  in  some  degree  serve  to  illustrate  his  character.  At  the 
time  of  the  terrible  earthquake,  which  laid  Caraccas  (his  native  city)  in 
ruins,  the  patriot  troops,  under  his  command,  were  in  possession  of  that 
capital  and  the  whole  province.  The  priests  in  the  Spanish  interest 
took  advantage  of  this  dreadful  calamity,  to  announce  from  the  pulpit 
that  the  Almighty  had  sent  the  awful  visitation  as  a  mark  of  his  divine 
wrath,  and  to  punish  the  inhabitants  for  having  swerved  from  the 
allegiance  which  they  owed  their  legitimate  sovereign,  thundering  their 
anathemas  with  true  Catholic  orthodoxy  against  the  rebel  chiefs  (as  they 
termed  them),  and  calling  upon  the  people  to  propitiate  the  angry  deity, 
by  an  immediate  return  to  their  duty,  and  by  a  sacrifice  of  the  leaders 
who  had  seduced  them.  The  effect  which  this  exordium  had  upon  the 
minds  of  an  illiterate  and  bigoted  populace  may  be  easily  imagined.  A 
counter  revolution  was  effected,  the  fortress  of  La  Guayra  was  yielded  to 
the  Spanish  party,  and  Bolivar  with  his  small  garrison  expelled  from  the 
city.  The  priesthood  had  accomplished  its  object,  but  its  triumph  was 
not  doomed  to  be  of  long  duration,  and  the  hydra  was  strangled  ere  it 
had  time  to  concentrate  its  strength.  The  republican  general,  who  had 
collected  reinforcements  from  the  other  provinces,  returned  three  months 
afterwards,  made  a  reconquest  of  the  forts,  and  again  took  up  his  resi- 
dence amid  the  ruins  of  the  town.  The  reverendissimo  padres  who  had 
excited  the  revolt,  were  all  seized,  and  with  scarcely  time  to  say  a 
Pater-noster,  or  an  Ave  Maria,  were  gibbeted  on  the  heights  overlooking 
La  Guayra,  which  Bolivar  facetiously  called  "  cleansing  the  church  from 
the  rubbish  which  the  earthquake  had  deposited." 

To  revive  the  hopes  of  the  republican  army,  which  had  been  greatly 
depressed  by  the  defeat  it  had  sustained  at  Calaboza,  news  arrived  that 
the  first  English  expedition  (which  had  been  raised  under  the  delusive 
promises  of  the  Venezuelan  agent,  Luis  Lopez  Mendez,  at  London)  was 
on  its  way  to  the  Orinoco.  Report  exaggerated  its  numbers,  which  had 
this  advantage,  that  whilst  it  elevated  the  drooping  spirits  of  the  patriot 
troops,  it  had  quite  an  opposite  effect  upon  those  of  Spain ;  the  move- 
ments of  the  Spanish  commander  were  paralyzed ;  he  neglected  to  pro- 
fit by  the  victory  he  had  gained,  and  thus  allowed  time  to  his  opponents 

3  T  2 


516  Adventures  in  Colombia.  [Nov. 

to  organize  a  new  force,  which  was  employed  with  better  success  on  the 
next  hostile  rencontre,  which  took  place  at  Ortiz — (this,  however,  was 
subsequent  to  the  events  which  I  have  to  detail  in  my  present  narra- 
tive). Bolivar,  on  receiving  the  above  intelligence,  left  his  army  under 
the  charge  of  General  Soublette,  at  San  Fernando,  and  hurried  down  to 
Angostura,  with  the  ostensible  view  of  meeting  the  expected  succours., 
but  his  real  object  was  of  a  far  different  nature ;  to  explain  which,  I 
must  make  the  reader  acquainted  with  the  position  of.  the  other  forces 
of  the  republic,  whose  operations  were  not  under  his  (Bolivar's)  imme- 
diate control,  though  nominally  subject  to  his  authority  as  "  Supreme 
Chief/'  a  title  which  he  rather  owed  to  his  own  assumption  and  by  suf- 
ferance, than  to  any  legal  act  so  constituting  him.  Those  troops,  embo- 
died in  the  provinces  of  Cumana  and  Barcelona,  were  designated  as  the 
"  Army  of  the  East ;"  one  division  of  which  was  commanded  by  the 
gallant  Marino,  the  other  by  the  intrepid  Piar.  The  first  of  these  generals 
was  a  young  man  of  most  amiable  manners.  His  mother  was  a  Caraccanian ; 
he  was  himself  (I  believe)  a  native  of  the  island  of  Margarita ;  but  his 
paternal  grandfather  was  of  the  Milesian  family  of  the  O'Briens,  and 
nearly  related  to  the  present  Marquis  of  Thomond ;  he  had,  in  early 
youth,  emigrated  to  Spain,  and  was  incorporated  with  the  Irish  Legion 
in  the  service  of  that  country.  Here  his  military  talents  obtained^  him 
the  notice  of  the  sovereign,  by  whom  he  was  created  Marquis  de 
Marino,  and  was  shortly  afterwards  appointed  to  a  command  at  Trini- 
dad :  here  he  realized  a  considerable  fortune,  and  by  his  marriage  came 
into  possession  of  a  large  estate  on  the  Spanish  Main.  He  had  two 
children — a  daughter,  and  the  hero  of  my  present  sketch,  who  at  his 
decease  drew  lots  for  the  property.  The  father's,  situate  at  Trinidad 
and  its  neighbouring  island  (Chicachicara),  fell  to  the  share  of  the  sister, 
whilst  the  brother  took  possession  of  his  mother's  portion,  which  was 
equally  valuable.  The  strongest  affection  existed  between  the  brother 
and  sister  ;  and  during  the  revolution,  whenever  the  rainy  season  caused 
a  temporary  cessation  of  hostilities,  they  never  failed  to  visit  each  other, 
alike  insensible  to  the  danger  of  the  navigation,  or  the  dread  of  inter- 
ception from  the  Spanish  gun-boats,  which  constantly  hovered  about  the 
coast.  Santiago  Marino  in  his  complexion  has  not  the  slightest  tinge 
of  his  American  descent :  it  is  the  fairest  I  have  ever  beheld ;  his  large 
blue  eyes,  beaming  with  benignity,  illumine  a  set  of  the  most  expressive 
features.  If  the  face  be  really  the  index  of  the  heart,  his  must  be  a  pure 
and  noble  one :  certain  is  it,  that  he  possesses  none  of  that  ferocity  of 
disposition  so  prevalent  amongst  those  of  his  countrymen,  whom  the 
scum  of  the  revolutionary  cauldron  has  elevated  into  rank  and  power. 
Brave  to  a  fault,  his  courage  has  ever  been  tempered  by  humanity. 
Prodigal  of  his  own  life  when  necessary,  he  is  a  niggard  of  the  lives  of 
those  under  him ;  no  act  of  useless  severity  has  ever  stained  the  bright 
annals  of  his  political  career,  and  even  when  called  upon  by  imperative 
justice  to  inflict  punishment,  his  feeling  heart  has  yearned  (against  his 
better  judgment)  to  pardon  the  criminal.  One  amongst  many  instances 
of  the  clemency  of  his  disposition  I  will  relate.  In  the  latter  end  of  the 
year  1818,  his  head-quarters  were  stationed  at  Maturin,  a  small  town  in 
the  province  of  Cumana;  news  was  received  that  some  stores  for  the  use 
of  the  troops  had  arrived  at  a  small  port  some  miles  down  the  river,  but 
that  the  boats  were  too  heavily  laden  to  approach  nearer ;  six  men, 
under  the  command  of  a  sergeant,  were  sent  therefore  with  some  mules 


1830.]  Republican  Perfidy.  517 

to  bring  the  cargo  to  head-quarters.  The  sergeant  (an  old  Spaniard) 
embraced  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  him  to  desert,  and  seduced 
three  of  the  party  to  accompany  him ;  they  would  have  joined  the 
enemy  had  not  their  attempt  been  rendered  abortive  by  the  Indians 
(sworn  foes  to  the  Spaniards),  who  seized,  and  brought  them  bound  to 
Maturin.  The  crime  demanded  an  example ;  the  four  men  were  tried 
by  a  court-martial  j  the  evidence  against  them  was  conclusive ;  they 
were  condemned  to  death.  When  the  president  waited  upon  the  general 
with  the  sentence  of  the  court,  I  shall  never  forget  the  agitation  he 
evinced ;  he  repeatedly  inquired  if  no  extenuating  circumstances  could 
be  found ;  and  when  informed  that  three  had  yielded  to  the  seductive 
influence  of  their  superior,  he  instantly  pardoned  them.  The  guilt  of 
the  latter  was  of  too  flagrant  a  nature  to  be  overlooked,  he  signed  the 
order  for  his  execution,  and  wept.  The  man  was  shot ;  and  three  days 
elapsed  ere  Marino  recovered  his  wonted  serenity  of  mind!  Such 
traits  are  so  rarely  to  be  met  with  in  the  sanguinary  history  of  the 
Colombian  Republic,  that  I  may  be  pardoned  for  dwelling  upon  its 
record  with  satisfaction.  May  Bolivar,  Paez,  Arismendi,  and  others, 
too  numerous  to  mention,  profit  by  the  lesson  of  mercy  so  frequently 
taught  them  by  their  youthful  compatriot!*  They  will  then  gain  the 
affection  of  the  people  subjected  to  their  sway,  and  merit  the  approba- 
tion of  other  nations.  I  much  fear,  however,  that  the  hearts  of  these 
chieftains  sont  trop  endurci  (as  the  French  term  it),  to  either  sympa- 
thize with  the  one,  or  respect  the  opinion  of  the  others ! 

It  may  be  readily  imagined  that,  with  such  a  disposition  to  conciliate 
affection,  Marino  was  universally  beloved ;  he  had  imbibed  a  knowledge 
of  European  tactics,  which,  combined  with  a  strict  attention  to  the 
minutiae  of  discipline,  enabled  him  to  defeat  the  enemy  on  almost  every 
occasion  that  he  came  in  contact  with  him.  The  fame  which  thus  accrued 
to  him  excited  the  jealousy  of  Bolivar,  who,  as  I  have  before  said,  could 
ill  brook  a  competitor ;  and,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  youthful 
general  had  in  one  or  two  instances  rendered  him  important  services, 
and  once  indeed  preserved  his  life  when  threatened  by  a  disaffected  sol- 
diery, who  resisted  an  assumption  of  power  considered  as  usurped,  still 
unmindful  of  the  obligation  so  strongly  contracted,  he  suffered  envy  to 
predominate  over  gratitude,  and  took  every  opportunity  of  evincing 
the  baneful  feeling  with  which  his  heart  rankled.  Marino  had  to  con- 
tend with  much  party  prejudice,  his  conduct  was  subjected  to  a  con- 
stant espionage,  and  his  minutest  action  reported  to  his  disadvantage  ; 
supported,  however,  by  the  "  mens  conscia  recti,"  and  the  devoted 
attachment  of  his  immediate  followers,  he  continued  to  perform  his  duty 
as  a  citizen  soldier  of  the  republic,  equally  regardless  of  private  malice 
as  unawed  by  menace.  Piar,  whose  intrepid  valour  and  brilliant  suc- 
cesses had  liberated  the  province  of  Guyana  from  the  tread  of  the 
despot,  was  now  associated  with  Marino  in  the  task  of  obtaining  the 
same  result  in  the  provinces  of  Cumana  and  Barcelona ;  repeated  victo- 
ries had  already  crowned  their  united  efforts.  Montaverde  (the  Spanish 
general)  retreated  before  them,  and  cooped  up  within  the  walls  of  the 
capital  of  either  province  (as  occasion  suited)  seldom  dared  adventure 
a  sortie,  which,  when  attempted,  invariably  proved  destructive  to  their 

*~  Marino,  though  holding  the  rank  of  captain-general,  was  then  only  twenty-seven 
years  of  age ! 


518  Adventures  in  Colombia.  [Nov. 

respective  garrisons.  Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  eastern  pro- 
vinces of  Venezuela  at  the  latter  end  of  the  year  1817.  How  different 
had  been  the  operations  of  the  "  great  army"  (as  it  was  called)  under 
the  personal  command  of  the  "  Supreme  Chief !"  Continual  defeat,  and 
a  succession  of  disasters — the  almost  total  want  of  every  necessary 
munition — to  which  may  be  added  a  woeful  laxity  of  discipline — alto- 
gether combined  to  create  a  feeling  of  despondency,  which  must  neces- 
sarily have  proved  fatal  to  the  cause  of  liberty,  had  not  the  reported 
near  arrival  of  the  English  auxiliaries  acted  as  a  stimulant  to  revive  the 
drooping  spirits  of  the  patriot  troops,  at  the  same  time  that  it  furnished 
Boh"  var  with  an  excuse  to  absent  himself  for  a  while  from  the  scene  of 
his  reverses.  He  longed  to  pluck  from  the  brows  of  Marino  and  Piar 
the  laurels  which  they  had  gained  in  the  east ;  and  the  first  moment  of 
his  arrival  at  Angostura  was  occupied  in  the  attempt  to  tarnish  the  repu- 
tation of  these  two  generals.  He  sought  to  obtain  possession  of  their 
persons  either  by  stratagem  or  force.  With  Marino  his  efforts  proved 
unavailing :  the  young  chief  was  not  to  be  lured  by  the  first,  and  evinced 
a  disposition  to  resist  any  aggression  of  the  other.  He  had  been  fortu- 
nate enough  to  discover,  and  render  abortive,  a  plan  which  had  been  laid 
for  his  assassination.  Two  officers  of  his  personal  staff  had  been  tampered 
with  by  Bermudez,*  and  offered  high  rank  in  the  republican  army  as  the 
price  of  their  crime.  These  men,  however,  spurned  the  proposal  with 
indignation,  and  lost  no  time  in  acquainting  Marino  with  his  danger, 
who,  in  consequence,  took  steps  to  avoid  it.  Thus  placed  upon  his 
guard,  when  he  received  Bolivar's  mandate  to  meet  him  at  Angostura, 
for  the  avowed  purpose  of  holding  a  conference  on  political  affairs,  he 
replied  to  the  summons,  by  the  messenger  who  had  brought  it,  "  that 
he  would  have  the  honour  of  waiting  upon  his  excellency,  but  he  feared 
his  suite  might  be  deemed  too  numerous,  and  suitable  accommodation 
inconvenient  to  be  found,  since  his  troops,  to  the  amount  of  two  thou- 
sand men,  had  unanimously  volunteered  to  accompany  him."  As  it  may 
be  easily  surmised,  the  visit  was  dispensed  with  by  Bolivar,  who  sent 
General  Urdanetta  to  propose  terms,  which  were  eventually  acceded  to. 
Piar,  less  fortunate,  and  perhaps  more  confiding  than  his  companion  in 
arms,  fell  into  the  snare  laid  for  his  destruction.  Some  confidential  emis- 
saries of  the  "  Supreme  Chief,"  who  had  been  despatched  for  the  purpose, 
contrived  to  seize  his  person  in  the  night ;  and  so  sudden  and  unex- 
pected was  his  apprehension,  that  the  ill-fated  general  was  bound,  and 
embarked  in  the  gun-boat  destined  to  convey  him  to  Angostura,  ere  he 
had  time  to  make  an  appeal  to  his  own  party,  who  would  otherwise 
doubtless  have  attempted  a  rescue. 

We  will  now  return  to  Edward  Winton,  whom  we  left  indulging  his 
reveries  on  the  platform.  The  raised  position  on  which  he  stood  gave 
him  a  panoramic  view  of  the  "  Almeida,"  or  public  promenade,  which 
extended  for  some  distance  along  the  banks  of  the  river,  until  it  was  inter- 
sected by  a  deep  ditch  or  moat,  which  had  been  dug  to  act  as  a  drain  to 

*  At  a  subsequent  period,  the  author  was  present  at  an  interview  which  took  place  at 
a  small  village  in  the  province  of  Cumana,  between  Marino  and  Bermudez ;  and,  being 
aware  of  the  circumstance  above  related,  could  not  help  (by  his  looks)  testifying  some  sur- 
prise at  the  apparent  cordiality  with  which  the  latter  general  threw  himself  into  the  arms  of 
the  former,  as  likewise  at  the  friendly  warmth  of  his  expressions.  Marino,  who  had  noticed 
this  astonishment,  embraced  an  opportunity  of  whispering,  Las  palabras  sont  talientes, 
pero,  el  curazon  es  siempre  frio. — "  His  words  are  warm,  but  his  heart  is  ever  cold." 


1830.]  Republican  Perfidy.  519 

the  Orinoco  during  its  periodical  overflowings,  and  which,  at  those 
periods,  conveyed  the  superabundant  waters  to  a  swamp  in  the  rear  of 
the  town,  which  then  assumed  the  appearance  of  a  tolerably  extensive 
lake.  At  the  period  I  allude  to  it  was  partially  dry,  though  there  was 
still  depth  of  water  enough  at  its  source  to  admit  boats  to  the  shelter  of 
its  projecting  banks.  A  small  rude  flight  of  steps  cut  in  the  hard  clay, 
facilitated  an  ascent  to  the  summit.  Two  rows  of  trees  lined  the  walk 
on  either  side,  whilst  the  action  of  the  breeze  upon  their  redundant 
foliage  gave  an  agreeable  freshness  to  the  place.  Here,  since  the  hour 
of  sunset,  the  inhabitants  of  San  Tomas  de  Angostura  had  been  enjoying 
"  el  fresco"  They  had  now  began,  however,  leisurely  to  return  to  their 
houses ;  and,  ere  the  expiration  of  half  an  hour,  all  was  solitude.  Not 
a  sound  was  heard,  save,  at  intervals,  the  discordant  voice  of  some  old 
and  decrepid  negress,  chaunting  the  "fandango"  to  the  rumbling  accom- 
paniment of  a  calabash  loaded  with  pebbles,  and  to  which  her  youthful 
compatriots  of  both  sexes  beat  time  with  their  naked  feet,  and  performed 
the  evolutions  of  that  lascivious  dance. 

Edward  Winton,  roused  (if  I  may  so  term  it)  from  his  visionary  con- 
templations by  the  very  silence  that  reigned  around  him,  advanced 
slowly  in  the  direction  of  the  avenue  which  I  have  described.  He  had 
proceeded  nearly  half  its  distance,  when  his  attention  was  attracted  by 
the  splash  of  oars.  He  cast  his  eye  on  the  broad  expanse  of  water  on  his 
left,  and  perceived  an  armed  flechera  rapidly  approaching  the  bank  he 
was  perambulating.  Anxious  to  obtain  intelligence,  he  accelerated  his 
pace,  and  arrived  just  at  the  moment  she  anchored  in  the  little  creek  or 
inlet  before  mentioned.  She  was  of  the  larger  size  of  gun-boats  ;  her 
bow  was  armed  with  a  long  twelve-pounder,  upon  a  swivel ;  her  sails 
were  furled  ;  at  her  mast-head  was  displayed  a  commodore's  pennant ; 
and  at  her  stern,  in  the  beams  of  the  moon,  floated  the  tri-coloured  flag 
of  Venezuela.  She  appeared  to  be  manned  with  a  strong  guard  of  sol- 
diers :  yet  not  a  sound  beyond  a  whisper  was  emitted  by  her  crew.  The 
mystery  which  this  unusual  silence  betokened  surprised  Winton,  who 
concealed  himself  behind  the  shelter  of  a  neighbouring  tree,  from  whence 
he  could  descry  the  movements  of  the  stranger.  The  first  person  who 
ascended  the  acclivity  was  a  thick- set  man  of  low  stature,  whose  coun- 
tenance betrayed  the  worst  passions  of  human  nature.  He  was  instantly 
recognized  by  Winton  as  the  sanguinary  Dias* — the  bloodthirsty  can- 
nibal of  the  revolution — the  heartless  miscreant  that  could  revel  in  the 
excruciating  pangs  of  his  fellow-creature,  and  even  drink  the  blood  of 
the  victim  to  his  remorseless  vengeance  !  Winton  intuitively  shuddered 
as  he  beheld  him. 

Dias  was  quickly  followed  by  several  soldiers,  two  of  whom  aided  a 
tall  fine  figure  of  a  man  to  mount,  who  evidently  required  their  assist- 
ance to  do  so,  his  arms  appearing  to  be  under  some  restraint.  He  was 
enveloped  in  a  large  ce  mantilla/'  or  Spanish  cloak,  and  a  broad-rimmed 
straw  hat,  which  he  wore  slouched,  completely  concealed  his  features 
from  observation.  The  clasp  of  the  "  mantilla,"  however,  having 
(probably  in  the  effort  to  ascend)  become  loosened,  enabled  Winton  to 
perceive  an  embroidered  collar,  the  distinguishing  mark  of  a  general 
officer.  The  gruff,  vulgar  voice  of  the  brutal  commandant  making  the 

*  Dias,  commandant  of  the  gun-boats  in  the  service  of  the  republic.  This  fellow  has 
been  often  heard  to  boast  that  he  fed  upon  human  flesh  !. 


520  Adventures  in  Colombia.  £Nov. 

inquiry  (preceded  by  an  oath),  "  whether  he  meant  to  detain  them  there 
all  night  ?"  and  the  mild  but  dignified  reply  of  the  stranger,  "  lead  on !" 
made  him  acquainted  with  the  name  as  well  as  rank  of  the  individual 
before  him.  It  was  the  gallant,  the  unfortunate  Piar  !  An  involuntary 
exclamation  betrayed  Winton's  place  of  concealment;  and  at  the  same 
instant  the  sabre  of  the  ferocious  Dias  gleamed  like  a  flash  of  light- 
ning in  his  eyes,  as,  propelled  by  the  Herculean  arm  that  wielded 
it,  it  struck  the  protecting  tree,  into  which  it  penetrated  so  deeply 
as  to  render  it  difficult  to  disengage  it.  The  savage,  sullen  at  hav- 
ing missed  his  aim,  yet  not  daring  to  repeat  his  blow  against  one  whom 
he  deemed  a  friend  of  Bolivar's,  declared  his  intention  of  detaining 
Winton  a  prisoner  for  the  night ;  and  having  formed  his  party, 
they  proceeded  to  the  "  Plaza."  Here  he  left  him  in  custody  of  the 
officer  commanding  the  guard  stationed  at  the  government-house ;  and 
having  sent  a  message  to  the  governor,  he  received  in  a  few  minutes, 
through  an  aid-de-camp,  an  order  to  lodge  his  other  prisoner  in  the 
"  Capello,"*  which  he  instantly  obeyed.  The  "  Plaza,"  or  square  of 
Angostura,  was  situated  in  the  centre  of  the  town,  three  sides  of  which 
were  occupied  by  the  government-house,  the  Palace  of  Congress,  and  the 
chapel,  with  the  curate's  house  adjoining  it ;  the  fourth  side,  and  facing 
the  palace,  was  filled  by  an  immense  brick  building,  which  had  been 
erected  by  the  Spaniards,  and  intended  as  a  cathedral :  the  revolution, 
however,  prevented  its  completion ;  the  outward  walls,  of  considerable 
height,  were  alone  standing,  and  it  was  wholly  unroofed.  Its  interior  pre- 
sented the  appearance  of  a  second  Golgotha,  the  compartment  of  earth 
which  it  encompassed  being  literally  strewed  with  human  skulls,  and  other 
mouldering  remnants  of  frail  humanity — it  having  served  as  a  charnel- 
house  during  the  rigours  of  a  late  siege.  Large  flocks  of  the  "  zamora/' 
or  South  American  vulture,  were  constantly  seen  hovering  over  its  wide 
aperture,  and  croaking,  as  if  in  pleasurable  anticipation  of  fresh  offal. 

So  soon  as  Piar's  arrival  had  been  notified  to  Bolivar,  a  military 
council,  consisting  of  members  devoted  to  the  interest  of  the  latter,  was 
assembled  to  try  the  unhappy  man  upon  charges  equally  vague  as  inde- 
finite :  the  chief  one,  however,  was  an  alleged  conspiracy  to  subvert  the 
existing  government,  and  raise  the  people  of  colour  to  power  by  a 
total  extermination  of  the  whites.t  There  appears  to  have  been  no  just 
grounds  for  such  an  imputation.  Paradoxical  as  it  may  be  deemed,  his 
greatest  fault  was  the  eminent  service  he  had  rendered  his  country  ; 
and,  like  Coriolanus,  he  was  doomed  to  become  the  victim  of  envy  and 
ingratitude.  When  summoned  before  his  judges  to  receive  the  sentence 
of  his  condemnation,  his  conduct  was  both  firm  and  manly.  He  stooped 
not  to  repel  an  accusation  which,  he  said,  the  whole  tenor  of  his  political 
life  ought  to  prove  a  sufficient  acquittal  of.  He  solicited  but  one  favour 
— permission  to  die  with  the  full  insignia  of  the  rank  which  he  had 
gained  in  the  field  of  honour.  His  request  was  complied  with. 

The  next  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  the  garrison  paraded  in  the 
square.  The  arrangements  for  the  execution  having  been  made,  the 

*  "  Capello,"  chapel.  It  is  customary  to  lodge  prisoners,  the  night  previous  to  their 
execution,  under  a  strong  guard,  in  this  holy  sanctuary,  in  order  that  they  may  receive 
the  rites  of  mother  church,  and  enjoy  the  benefit  of  ghostly  consolation ;  a  small  room 
behind  the  altar,  with  grated  windows,  being  generally  reserved  for  that  purpose. 

•f-  Piar  was  himself  a  mulatto. 


1830.]  Republican  Perfidy.  521 

general  was  conducted  to  the  wall  of  the  unfinished  cathedral,  against 
which  was  placed  an  old  wooden  arm-chair :  he  declined  the  offered 
accommodation,  and  refused  to  be  bandaged.  Having  declared  that 
he  died  a  true  patriot,  and  expressed  his  wish  that  others  might  prove  as 
sincere  as  himself,  he  gave  the  signal,  and  the  next  moment  had  ceased 
to  exist !  Thus  fell  the  gallant  Piar,  lamented  by  all  those  who,  free 
from  the  trammels  of  party  spirit,  could  justly  appreciate  his  native 
worth  and  talent.  Bolivar,  from  the  balcony  of  the  Palace  of  Con- 
gress, witnessed  the  finale  of  the  bloody  drama.  He  pretended  to  be 
deeply  affected  ;  and,  to  keep  up  the  farce,  refused  to  admit  any  (except 
a  few  confidential  friends)  to  his  presence  during  the  space  of  three 
days  ;  at  the  expiration  of  which  period  he  returned  to  San  Fernando, 
on  the  Apure,  leaving  behind  him  a  printed  proclamation,  detailing  the 
supposed  treasonable  practices  of  his  victim,  and  lamenting  the  dire 
necessity  which  demanded  the  sacrifice  !  Poor  Winton  was  not  released 
until  the  morning  after  Bolivar's  departure.  The  government  condes- 
cended, however,  to  borrow  his  money  from  time  to  time.  When  he 
had  expended  his  last  farthing,  and  was  induced  to  solicit  some  remu- 
neration in  return  for  his  advances,  his  request  was  at  first  answered 
with  civil  excuses.  On  his  becoming  more  importunate  in  his  demands, 
he  was  treated  with  contemptuous  neglect.  He  would  absolutely  have 
starved  for  want  of  the  common  necessaries  of  existence,  had  not  the 
British  who  resided  at  Angostura  occasionally  contributed  to  his  sup- 
port. He  speedily  grew  depressed  in  spirits,  and,  I  fear  I  must  add, 
debased  in  mind.  He  was  constantly  inebriated  when  he  could  procure 
the  means  ;  and  his  body  was,  at  length,  completely  emaciated  by  disease 
and  excess,  He  died,  covered  with  ulcers,  at  Angostura,  in  the  year 
1820,  and  was  indebted  to  the  benevolent  feelings  of  a  black  washer- 
woman for  the  very  shroud  that  enveloped  his  last  mortal  remains.  The 
once  rich  and  respected  merchant  died  a  wretched  and  neglected 
pauper,  G.  B.  H, 


THE    SLEEPER. 

YE  waters,  flow  tranquilly  on  to  the  ocean, 

Each  wave  soft  as  music  when  sylphs  are  in  motion ; 

My  fair  one,  way-weary,  now  rests  by  your  stream — 
Flow  gently,  ye  waters,  and  break  not  her  dream  ! 

Ye  winds,  through  the  green  branches  tenderly  sighing, 
Breathe  softer  than  roses  in  Summer's  lap  lying, 
And  still  as  an  infant  whose  slumber  is  deep — 
Breathe  gently,  ye  wild  winds,  and  break  not  her  sleep  ! 

Ye  sweet  birds,  so  lightly  among  the  leaves  springing, 
Oh  !  wake  not  my  love  with  the  gush  of  your  singing; 
But  sing  as  the  heart  does  when  joy  is  most  deep — • 
Oh  !  hush  your  loud  warble,  and  break  not  her  sleep  ! 


C.  W. 


M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  59.  3  U 


[    522    ]  [Nov. 

THE  MALCONTENT. 

IT  truly  causes  a  reflecting  man  to  sigh,  and  to  toss  the  scornful  nose 
into  the  air,  when  he  reflects  upon  the  baseness,  malice,  and  hypocrisy 
of  his  friends  and  acquaintance,  more  particularly  of  such  as  happen  to 
be  related  to  him,  either  by  blood  or  marriage,  by  consanguinity,  or 
contract.  But  I  wish  I"  could  describe  accurately  upon  paper  these 
upraisings  of  the  feature,  and  interjectional  mumblings.  I  despair,  by 
any  representation,  however  lively,  of  conveying  any,  the  least  idea,  even 
to  the  most  ductile  mind,  of  those  sounds  and  significations,  whereof  we 
possess  in  words  no  adequate  and  efficient  type — such  anonuvlous  and 
absurd  phrases  as  "  Pish  !" — "  Heigho !"  and  the  like,  being  by  no 
means  to  be  heard  in  real  life,  and  being,  moreover,  noises  that  do  in  no 
wise  interpret  those  fitful,  yet  withal  placid,  breathings,  that  a  philoso- 
phical enthusiast  might  naturally  be  supposed  to  emit. 

There  are  my  wife's  relations,  on  the  one  hand,  insisting,  over  their 
anti-Lethean  potations  of  clipped  besom  and  sloe-leaf,  that  I  did  mainly 
contribute  to  the  domestic  disquiet  and  infelicity  of  that,  sooth  to  say, 
most  intolerable  female ;  that  I  was  frequently  in  the  habit  of  dismissing 
missiles  of  a  specific  gravity  upon  strange  errands  at  her ;  and  that  I 
was,  finally,  in  effect,  the  cause  of  her  untimely  disappearance  from  this 
planet  to  the  world  of  spirits.  Absurd — in  the  highest  degree,  absurd — 
upon  my  life  ;  unkind,  and  uncandid,  also.  As  though  those  salutary 
corrections  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  bestow,  were  awarded  in  a  spirit  of  hos- 
tility to  the  individual  quasi,  a  substance ;  as  though,  in  a  word,  they 
were  any  thing  else  than  a  practical  illustration  of  a  theory  of  abstraction 
in  which  I,  a  philosophical  amateur,  am  well  pleased  to  indulge.  Do  I 
make  myself  thoroughly  understood  ?  No  ! 

Well,  then,  behold  me,  not  brutally  maltreating  a  defenceless 
woman,  but  laudably  attacking  untenable  positions — erecting  my  moral 
and  physical  powers  against  the  edifice  that  vanity  has  reared,  and  pull- 
ing down  the  unsafe  premises.  I  must,  I  say,  be  considered  therefore, 
not  as  one  beating  his  wife,  but  as  a  belabourer  of  stray  sophisms,  or  as 
one  who  cudgels  vain  conclusions.  This  is  what  I  term  the  manipu- 
lation of  morals,  and  is  a  thousand  times  more  satisfactory  than  undefined 
theory  or  unmeaning  declamation. 

My  own  relatives,  for  their  part,  have  taken  up  absurd  notions  re- 
specting me.  They  make  no  scruple  of  asserting  that  I  am  given  over 
to  the  adoption  of  immensely  frequent  imbibations ;  that  I  am  flagrantly 
remiss  in  the  narration  of  fact ;  that  I  am  a  man  of  no  certain  or  definite 
principles  (of  which,  by  the  by,  they  contrive  to  furnish  examples)  ; 
and  that  I  am  utterly  destitute  of  right  feeling  :  nay,  some  more  chari- 
table, have  no  difficulty  in  hinting  at  the  fact  of  a  perplexed  and  in- 
volved entanglement  of  my  intellects,  assuring  themselves  of  a  crack  in 
the  cerebellum,  or  a  lamentable  flaw  in  the  occiput. 

Let  me  admit  that,  a  disciple  to  the  doctrine  of  the  perfectibility  of 
human  nature,  I  do,  not  seldom,  rashly,  perhaps,  but  fearlessly,  state 
things  that  are  not  mere  slavish  drudges  at  the  heels  of  fact — things 
that  if  not  true,  ought  to  be  so :  and  hence  the  common,  too  common 
notion,  that  I  am  not  scrupulously  exact  in  the  delineation  of  narrative 
reality. 

It  is  impossible  that  I  should   ever  become  a  drunkard — I  am  clear 


1830.]  The  Malcontent.  523 

upon  that  point — my  habits  secure  me  from  that  vicious  aberration. 
It  is  quite  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  indulgence,  however  frequent, 
in  the  use  of  wine,  constitutes  the  odious  character  now  about  to  be  de- 
nounced. "  Drink  deep,  or  taste  not/'  I  have  clasped  the  legs  of  the 
table,  I  have  spurned  the  impediments  of  staircase  and  bannister,  and 
curved  homewards,  after  the  pattern  of  the  true  line  of  beauty,  and  these 
oh  !  how  frequently  ! — What  then  ?  I  have  revelled  in  the  ethereal  con- 
verse of  a  friend — I  have  myself  conversed,  and  that,  too,  not  swinishly  ; 
I  have  been  in  heaven.  Even  now,  "  fallen  on  evil  tongues  and  evil  days/' 
may  I  say — . 

"  Noctu  sum  in  cselo  clarus,  atque  inter  Deos  ; 
Inter  mortales  ambuloque  interdius" — 

this,  I  repeat,  is  no  evidence  of  a  drunkard. 

He  is  one  who  listens  to  the  admonitions  of  his  friends,  and  heeds  not 
what  they  say — pursuing  his  clamorous  career  through  good  report  and 
evil  report — regardless  of  the  quality  or  extent  of  his  swallowings — 
Champagne  or  cyder — Sauterne  or  small-beer,  it  matters  not :  he  is  seen, 
at  one  moment,  busy  in  the  resorts  of  vice ;  and  presently  is  heard  gro- 
velling in  the  cellar,  yelling  amongst  the  barrels — struggling  with  an 
obstinate  spigot,  and  (for  such  is  his  insanity)  extracting  the  vinous 
fluid  in  unheard-of  quantities  from  the  cask  itself!  Such  a  character  as 
this  I  heartily  despise.  I  view  him  as  a  base  and  worthless  member  of 
society— a  sot — a  drunkard. 

He  must  be  a  wretch  over  nice,  and  to  a  laughable  extent  fastidious 
who  cavils  at  my  principles  ;  they  are  of  the  purest  kind.  They  may, 
by  the  by,  be  more  aptly  termed  impulses  than  principles — what  I 
desire  to  do,  is  done — what  I  affect  not,  I  forsake — it  is  my  nature.  Thus, 
there  are  many  detestable  exactions  of  society  which  the  world  vulgarly 
calls  duties,  to  which  I  pay  no  manner  of  attention,  for  which  I  have,  I 
protest,  a  loathing. 

Let  me  with  perfect  decorum  and  great  diffidence  open,  as  it  were  an 
oyster,  the  whole  shell  of  my  morality,  to  the  end  that  it  may  be  more 
conveniently  apparent ;  permit  me  with  much  deference  to  lift  up  the 
testaceous  covering.  Do  you  not  think — to  be  candid — that  a  man  may 
be  too  amiable,  honest,  virtuous,  discreet — eh? — a  leetle  too  refined, 
polished,  of  too  much  delicacy,  over-politeness  ? — resolve  me.  What  say 
you  to  too  much  scrupulosity — too  great  an  exactness — too  large  a  bene- 
volence ?  To  descend  to  minors,  may  he  not  be  too  nice  in  his  dress,  too 
fine,  finical,  too  sober,  steady,  serious  ?  I  own,  I  conceive  that  such  may 
be  the  case. 

Now,  with  respect  to  our  transactions  with  our  fellow  men,  I  hold 
that  we  should,  as  we  are  told,  "  do  as  we  would  be  done  by  ;"  nay,  I  am 
(fancifully,  think  ye?)  entirely  of  opinion  that  much  good  is  literally 
done  "  by  stealth"  however  much  the  benevolent  parties  concerned  may 
"  blush  to  find  it  fame." 

It  was  rumoured  with  an  earnestness,  and  a  diligence  not  suffi- 
ciently to  be  exclaimed  against,  that  I  was  destitute,  in  a  remarkable 
degree,  of  proper  feeling.  I  a  man  of  no  feeling  !  I,  who  have  spent 
all  my  life  in  endeavouring  to  conceal  (effectually  at  last)  the  most  vio- 
lent and  uncontrollable  feelings ; — I,  who  have  wept  more  (in  secret) 
than  would  have  kept  a  dozen  crocodiles  in  decent  mourning  for  their 
whole  lives ;  who  haye  a  turn  for  that  sort  of  thing,  and  whose  hydraulic 

3  U  2 


524  The  Malcontent.  [Nov. 

experiments  in  that  line  are,  as  we  all  know,  proverbial.  And  so, 
because  I  am  not  cut  down  from  the  bed-post  every  fortnight — because 
I  am  not  discovered  lying  supine  beneath  a  tearful  willow,  with  my  head 
upon  a  clod,  and  my  feet  left  to  cool  in  the  meandering  stream — because 
I  desire  yet  a  while  longer  to  walk  this  common  earth,  and  am  unwilling 
to  change  this  my  personal  presence,  and,  as  it  were,  individual  currency, 
into  the  flimsy  equivalent  of  a  ghost ;  which  is,  so  to  speak,  a  most  ridi- 
culous, and  unfortunately  not-to-be-cudgelled  vapour  ;  because,  in  short, 
I  am  not  ghost-convertible,  nor  lending  an  ear  to  ghosts  (my  wife  has 
appeared  to  me  several  times  by  way  of  spectral  illusion !),  because  of 
these  things,  I  am  considered  a  mere  heartless  stoic.  Be  it  so. 

But  wherefore  did  they  impeach  the  integrity  of  my  brain  ? — where- 
fore insinuate,  that  through  lunar  interstices  that  subtle  jelly  had  eva- 
porated.— Monstrous  fable ! 

"  By  yonder  blessed  moon  I  swear—" 

there  is  not  a  fissure,  however  small,  through  which  the  moonbeams  may 
intrude  unbidden—through  which  the  intellectual  mass  may  have  incon- 
tinently escaped. 

Shall  I  be  tamely  slain  by  the  jawbones  of  these  asses  ? — Shall 
these  Sampsons  of  controversy  bring  the  house  about  my  ears  in  their 
blind  fury?  Wherefore  am  I  deserted  by  them?  I  am  cut  every  day 
fifty  times  like  a  cucumber,  by  people  as  cool  as  that  vegetable.  Well, 
they  have  "  cut,"  and  have  not  "  come  again,"  nor  have  I  the  eternity 
of  their  rounds  of  beef ;  no  matter.  A  fierce  reprisal  is  in  store  for  them 
when  it  shall  please  God  to  take  my  excellent  aunt,  who  has  flourished 
for  so  incredible  a  period  upon  her  annuity,  in  spite,  and  to  the  horror, 
and,  of  late,  perfect  incredulity  of  the  Equitable  Assurance,  who,  upon 
the  worthy  creature's  demise,  will  be  constrained  to  amend  their  average 
tables ; — when,  I  say,  that  honoured  relative  shall  expire  (she  cannot  last 
much  longer  !)  then  am  I,  by  virtue  of  my  propinquity  to  the  deceased, 
installed  in  the  possession  of  her  goods  and  chattels,  whatsoever  and 
wheresoever,  &c. — a  blest  expectancy  ! — let  them  look  to  it. 

I  derive  a  melancholy  pleasure  from  a  retrospection  of  my  military 
career,  before  our  service  in  the  Peninsula,  when  we  were  all,  brave  as 
lions,  in  country  quarters.  Oh  !  that  it  might  have  lasted  for  ever  ! 
those  parade  days — shall  I  ever  cease  to  remember  them  ?  such  storm- 
ing of  hearts — such  marryings  and  givings  in  marriage — such  assigna- 
tions with  nursery-maids  under  pretext  of  caressing  the  children  ! — Ah  ! 
these  were  remarkably  agreeable  points— yet  I  have  sufficient  ground  of 
complaint  in  the  ridiculous  preferences  shewn  by  the  women  (poor  pre- 
judiced creatures  !)  to  many  of  my  brother  officers,  whose  personal  ac- 
complishments— vanity  apart — were  poor  compared  to  mine  :  fellows, 
trust  me,  "  with  Atlantean  shoulders  fit  to  bear  the  weight  of  mightiest" 
luggage ; — with  a  plebeian  development  of  calf  and  an  intricate  wil- 
derness of  whisker.  These  were  sought  after,  yea,  held  in  requisition, 
while  I  was  laughed  to  scorn — positively  sneered  at — left  a  prey  to 
ravenous  spinsters,  who  were  glad  to  cling  to  me  as  a  forlorn  hope,  and 
made  desperate  efforts  to  snatch  me  up.  There  was  one — record  it,  ye 
furies  !  who  by  dint  of  a  bran  new  wig,  and  repairs  done  to  her  imme- 
morial countenance — in  short,  with  hair  and  plaister,  had  so  morticed 
herself  to  my  affections,  that  I  should  inevitably  have  fallen  a  victim, 
had  it  not  been  that  I  was  providentially  delivered  out  of  her  hands. 


1830.]  The  Malcontent.  525 

By  miracle  I  discovered  that  she  had  been  tampering  with  the  church- 
warden, who  had  permitted  her  to  sophisticate  the  parish-register  ! 
The  fiend  had,  in  cold  blood,  taken  off  a  few  dozen  years  from  her  own 
age,  and  given  the  overplus  to  her  grandmother,  who  was  in  reality  born, 
I  believe,  somewhere  about  the  year  A.D.  1  !  But  from  these  and 
similar  annoyances  were  we  called  away  to  partake  the  glories  of  the 
war,  and  rear  our  laurels  in  the  hotbed  of  slaughter. 

When  I  was  first  introduced  into  the  field  a  new  and  undefined  feeling 
took  possession  of  me — a  feeling  which  was  soon  lost  in  emotions  of  dis- 
gustful honour  and  excuseable  concern.  Had  I  been  brought  here  to  be 
butchered  ?  Good  Heavens  !  was  a  valuable  life  to  be  thrown  away  ? 
Was  a  probable  extensive  round  of  good  offices — a  career  of  social  and  re- 
ciprocal benefits,  to  be  put  an  end  to  by  a  devotion  to  mere  doubtful  ad- 
vantages— to  problematical  triumphs  ?  Had  I  been  lured  into  this  scene 
of  riotous  and  disorderly  madmen  for  the  express  purpose  of  being  no 
longer  suffered  to  live  ?  I  had  not  thought  of  this.  "  The  spirit- 
stirring  drum  and  ear-piercing  fife,"  were  already  fearfully  agitating 
the  horse  under  me ;  so  much  so,  that  I  was  in  momentary  expectation 
of  not  being  able  to  ascertain  whether  I  was  upon  my  head  or  my  heels ! 
Our  colonel,  rash  fool !  had  adopted  a  notion,  that  to  charge  the  enemy 
was  no  less  than  a  duty,  and  straight  commenced  a  vulgar  vociferation, 
exhorting  us  to  follow  his  example.  Misguided  wretch  ! — it  never  en- 
tered his  head  that  a  bullet  was  about  to  do  so — a  most  veritable  cala- 
mity, however.  The  major,  too,  than  whom  a  more-to-be-regretted 
officer  never  lived  or  died,  discarding  prudence,  was  making  himself 
fatally  conspicuous  in  the  war.  Alas  !  those  vital  properties  that  were, 
a  moment  before,  so  active — aye,  I  may  say,  so  rampant,  within  him — 
by  a  sudden  poke  in  the  regions  of  the  stomach  from  one,  it  appeared, 
not  in  the  least  well-disposed  towards  him,  were  extinguished.  I  was 
paralysed  !  That  men,  professing  Christianity,  whose  lives  were  of  the 
least  value  to  any  but  the  owner,  and  whose  souls  were  thus  vibrating 
in  a  perilous  contingency,  should  demean  themselves  after  this  fashion, 
was  astounding  ! 

When,  however,  by  some  vague  impulse  driven,  my  too-spirited 
horse  commenced  hurrying  about  the  ranks  with  all  the  miraculous  ex- 
pedition of  a  private  bill  through  the  House  of  Commons,  and  with  me 
appended  to  it  by  way  of  rider — then  that  natural  alarm  (not  fear  !)  took 
possession  of  me,  that  may  be  more  appropriately  denominated  discre- 
tion ;  and  my  faculties,  drawn  away  by  an  astonishing  instinct  from  all 
other  considerations,  or  outward  phenomena,  were  concentrated  with 
tenacious  sagacity  upon  my  own  proper  safety,  and  the  most  effectual 
and  instant  means  of  securing  it ;  for  the  fact  is,  this  involuntary  and 
alarming  celerity  of  movement  was  actually  doing  nothing  less  than 
making  me  the  unwilling  means  of  appropriating  to  myself  all  such 
loose,  or  spent,  or  lively  balls,  as  were  taking  their  otherwise  inoffensive 
course — or  which  might,  at  all  events,  be  better  employed  in  dismissing* 
the  drummers  and  other  tuneful  appendages  to  the  regiment.  And: 
though  none  of  them,  by  special  good  fortune,  did  take  effect  upon  me, 
yet,  I  contend,  my  presence  in  the  field,  and  in  all  parts  of  it  at  the 
same  instant,  was  a  most  lamentable  indiscretion ;  attributable,  I  feel,  to> 
the  wrong-headed  obstinacy  of  the  steed  in  question. 

In  the  meantime,  a  figure,  with  his  head  curiously  carved  and  other- 
wise grossly  maltreated,  raised  a  senseless  clamour  for  reinforcements  ; 


52G  The  Malcontent.  [Nov. 

backing  the  request  by  much  violent  action ;  and  I  thought  I  could  not 
do  better  than,  under  pretext  of  seconding  his  desperate  enterprise,  take 
advantage  of  a  favourable  moment,  and  retire  from  the  scene.  For,  in 
reality,  I  was  too  much  disgusted  to  remain — even  if  my  life  had  de- 
pended upon  it — and  the  reverse  would  have  been  the  case — I  could  not 
nave  stopped  an  instant  longer.  Naturally  too  brave,  too  heroic,  I  turn 
away  with  horror  from  such  indiscriminate  slaughter — such  carnage,  un- 
relieved by  generous  forbearance.  The  mere  paltry  evasions  of  Falstaff 
upon  a  similar  occasion  I  despised.  Now,  that  man  was  a  coward — that 
man  was  a  flat  impostor  and  poltroon — but  I,  who  had  a  bonatfide  princi- 
ple in  reserve — you  understand  ? — mine  was  courage,  cooled  by  circum- 
stances over  which  I  had  no  control.  And  yet  (but  what  was  to  be 
expected  from  a  world  like  this  ?)  I  was  dismissed  the  service  for  this 
very  retreat — this  masterly  manoeuvre,  whereby  I  preserved  not  only  my 
life,  but  the  integrity  of  my  rule  of  action.  Let  me  not  think  of  it.  I 
threw  down  my  commission  in  disgust,  and  retired  into  the  privacy  and 
secure  comfort  of  domestic  life. 

Still,  this  kind  of  life,  it  may  be  readily  imagined,  to  a  man  of  my 
energy  and  active  tendencies,  was  not  definitely  "  the  thing" — more  espe- 
cially as  my  pecuniary  blood  was  oozing  away  after  a  most  marvellous 
rate.  The  truth  is,  to  be  plain,  my  resources,  about  this  time,  were,  to 
an  inhuman  degree,  epitomized — abridged — cut  off;  my  credit,  as  it 
were,  a  mere  memory — a  thing  to  be  meditated  upon  and  yearned  after ; 
and  my  wants  (for  my  habits  had  been  expensive)  truly  awful.  By  my 
soul !  it  is  no  less  than  a  most  lamentable  fact,  that  my  existence,  and  the 
probable  carrying  on  of  the  concern,  were  become  matters  of  intense 
speculation  to  me.  I  seemed  to  have  lost  all  regard  to  my  person — my 
diet  was  of  the  most  elementary  description,  and  frightfully  scarce — , 
nay,  my  meals  were  such  as  might  be  supposed,  when  placed  upon  it, 
literally  to  "  set  the  table  on  a  roar."  They  unconsciously  reminded  the 
spectator  (supposing  him  to  possess  a  "  microscopic  eye")  of  the  philo- 
sophical fact  of  the  infinite  divisibility  of  matter ;  and  bore  as  much  re- 
semblance to  a  full-grown  repast,  as  a  new-born  dwarf  to  the  Irish  giant, 
or  the  vision  of  the  Barmecide  to  the  sober  certainty  of  a  vast  alderman ! 
I  never  dined  (?)  without  a  pair  of  magnifying  glasses, — an  ingenious 
attempt  at  intestine  deception,  which  turned  out  vain  and  futile. 

Is  it  then,  I  demand,  surprising  that  my  mind  gave  way,  and  the 
rigidity  of  my  scruples  relaxed  under  the  pecuniary  pressure  alluded  to  ? 
No :  wild  fancies  possessed  me — took  lodgings  in  my  brain,  without 
giving  references  to  any  decent  ideas,  and,  in  fine,  determined  me  upon 
' l  the  last  infirmity  of  noble  mind" — marriage.  Thus  it  stood  with  me  : 
I  was  young — perhaps  romantic;  in  short,  too  sensitive — too  much  the 
child  of  impulse — a  mere  creature  of  sentiment,  believe  it — the  Rousseau 
of  lovers — the  Petrarch  of  passion.  I  married  upon  the  most  disinter- 
ested principle.  I  dissipated  every  farthing  before  the  ceremony,  out  of 
a  chivalrous  devotion  to  a  woman  I  adored,  that  she  might  (you  see  the 
nobleness  of  the  act?)  be  permitted  to  confer  upon  me  an  everlasting 
obligation,  by  making  over  to  me,  for  my  use,  the  assets  in  her  possession ; 
in  other  words,  by  a  tacit  consent  to  my  transfer  and  conversion  of  her, 
coin  to  my  own  peculiar  purposes. 

But,  ah  !  well  has  it  been  said  by  the  immortal  bard,  "  Misery  makes 
a  man  acquainted  with  strange  bedfellows" — for  had  I  not  been  most 
wretched  I  had  never  loved — madly  loved  (for  it  was  madness)  this, 


1830.]  The  Malcontent.  527 

shall  I  say  it  ?  selfish — most  selfish  woman.  Advices  had  been  thrown 
out — base  advices — before  the  knot  was  tied — the  Gordian  knot  that  one 
may  neither  untie  nor  cut — that  property,  actual  effects,  were  apper- 
taining and  belonging  to  her ; — obscure  intimations  had  been  rumoured, 
that  a  certain  annuity  was,  at  stated  intervals,  in  course  of  payment  j  and  a 
hint  had  been  dropped  of  the  dropping  off  of  precarious  relatives — "  upon 
which  hint  I  spake." — Will  it  be  believed,  that,  upon  diligent  and  care- 
ful search  after  the  ceremony,  repeated  upon  several  after  occasions,  I 
was  confirmed  in  the  dreadful  conviction,  that  this  entity — this  being — 
this  overplus  of  creation,  had  altogether  deceived  me,  and  had  taken 
advantage  of  my  trusting  confidence  and  unsuspecting  affection  ? — And 
yet  such  is  the  fact.  Hymen  soon  extinguished  his  torch  by  poking  it 
into  the  eye  of  Cupid.  And  now  were  explained  the  mystical  symbols 
of  disapproval  on  the  part  of  many  of  my  friends,  wrapped  up  in  the 
startling  form  of  supposition  j  and  now  were  manifested  unto  me  the 
sleeve-hidden  grins  of  the  prophetic  few  who  had  foreseen  this  calamity. 
Shall  I  ever  forget  that  day — when,  half-conscious,  all-fatal  rashness  !  I 
stumbled,  with  a  ring  and  a  wry  face,  down  the  aisle  ?  Shall  I  forget 
the  involuntary  start  (oh  !  that  /  had  started !)  of  the  parson,  or  the 
almost  imploring  gaze  of  the  philanthropic  clerk  ?  And  yet  these  inter- 
positions, as  I  verily  believe  them  to  have  been — these  vague  renderings 
of  a  doubtful  meaning,  were  lost  upon  me — and  I  was  lost.  Swallowed 
up  by  despair,  what  was  I  to  do  ?  what,  but  with  a  sagacity  that  the 
occasion  called  forth,  accept  a  humble,  yet,  withal,  not  unlucrative 
appointment  in  this  metropolis.  It  was  done. 

Meanwhile  my  home  became  irksome  to  me — truly  irksome — and  I 
fell  insensibly  into  the  vulgar  and  demoralizing  habit  of  attending  the 
tavern,  for  the  express  purpose  of  imbibing  porter  and  smoking  pipes. 
Not  that  I  had  very  much  reason  to  complain  of  the  general  arrange- 
ment of  my  domestic  establishment ;  the  furious  assaults  of  my  wife, 
made  as  they  were  in  a  spirit  of  ignorant  vituperation,  moved  me  not  a 
jot.  Her  reproaches  were  a  source  of  hidden,  but  of  sincere  delight  to 
me ;  and  I  at  last  attained  to  such  wondrous  skill  in  evading  the  soft 
single  rap  of  the  obsequious  poker,  and  in  transferring  the  destination  of 
the  winged  boot-jack,  as  was  most  curious,  and,  I  have  no  doubt,  instruc- 
tive to  behold.  In  spite, „  therefore,  of  occasional  recrimination  on  my 
part  (conducted  upon  the  most  philosophical  and  Christian  principle), 
and  a  tendency  to  fall  into  sudden  fits — a  strange,  unaccountable  afflic- 
tion— during  which  I  swung  my  hands  and  arms  about  in  an  eccentric 
and  fatal  manner — we  might  be  said  to  gather  an  average  crop  of 
domestic  bliss. 

But  I  was  wrong,  decidedly  wrong,  in  the  aforesaid  visitation  of 
taverns,  with  the  accompanying  absorption  of  fluid ;  for  (I  speak  it  in 
confidence)  during  those  hours  of  absence,  a  score  of  the  most  deadly 
drinks  was  in  course  of  inflammation  at  the  Red  Lion,  adjacent  to  my 
dwelling.  Yes,  even  as  Ariadne,  when  abandoned  by  Theseus,  was  fain 
to  console  herself  with  Bacchus— or  in  other  words,  took  to  the  bottle — 
so  did  the  imprudent  partner  of  my  life  in  like  manner  deport  herself. 
But  this  was  a  pardonable  weakness. 

It  chanced  that  I  took  to  my  bosom  a  viper — that  I  made  the  acquaint- 
ance, and  cultivated  the  friendship  of  one  who,  having  warmed  himself 
at  my  fire,  stung  me.  How  frequent  were  his  visits  !-^-how  welcome ! 


528  The  Malcontent.  [Nov. 

how  pressing  the  hospitable  earnestness  that  he  would  come  again  ! 
He  came  again,  and  again.  It  is  inconceivable,  by  the  way,  the  quan- 
tity of  spirit  whereof  this  man  was  nightly  the  willing  recipient.  Our 
tastes  were  similar,  our  pursuits  alike.  He  praised  my  furniture — he 
appreciated  my  drawings  (clever  things,  done  by  myself!) — he  admired 
my  wife !  A  virtuous  woman,  I  well  knew,  was  a  crown  to  her  husband 
— a  crown  that  must  by  no  means  be  changed ;  besides,  not  really  think- 
ing mine  worth  sixpence,  it  may  easily  be  imagined  that  I  was  not  too 
apt  to  imbibe  the  deleterious  mixture — jealousy.  But  circumstances 
transpired — a  strong  hint  was  afforded  me  in  the  nocturnal  disappearance 
of  the  guilty  pair.  The  viper  succeeded  in  effecting  his  escape,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  very  culpable  inattention  and  remissness  of  those  torpid 
rattle-snakes  the  watchmen ;  who  were,  as  usual,  walking  in  their  sleep 
at  the  time.  When  first  I  woke  to  the  maddening  conviction,  I  was 
stifled  with  rage — quite  black  in  the  face,  like  Othello — and  resolved  to 
pursue,  overtake,  and  exterminate;  but  upon  cooler  reflection  it  will 
hardly  be  believed  how  soothing  a  consolation  was  permitted  to  me  in  a 
sure  conviction  of  the  absence  of  my  departed  wife.  Removed  from  me, 
I  was  better  able,  indeed  better  qualified,  to  judge  of  her  merits  and 
defects,  to  contrast  and  compare  them,  and  to  allow  her  such  praise,  or 
convict  her  of  such  faults,  as  this  impartial  course  of  investigation  justi- 
fied. My  friends,  as  usual,  made  wry  faces  at  my  philosophy ;  while 
some  hesitated  not  to  avow  that  I  had  been  seen  to  give  way  to  an  inde- 
cent unbending  of  the  lower  jaw,  in  the  frequent  coinage  of  smiles,  and 
to  have  partaken  too  largely  of  that  which,  administered  heedlessly,  I 
admit,  destroys  the  equilibrium,  and  encourages  horizontal,  extension  and 
land-measurement,  not  to  be  accomplished  by  proxy.  But  worse  than 
this ;  when  intelligence  reached  me  of  the  subterraneous  appropriation 
of  my  ill-fated  wife,  they  were  callous  enough  to  bruit  it  abroad  that  I 
indulged  in  inexplicable  exuberances  of  spirit,  dancing,  singing,  and 
quaffing,  as  if,  not  a  calamity,  but  a  deliverance  were  just  notified  unto 
me ;  whereas,  I  can  prove,  but  it  is  hardly  worth  while,  that  the  above 
were  exhilarations  caused  by  other — I  mean  by  certain — joyous  announce- 
ments not  in  the  least  appertaining  to  my  wife's  demise.  Even  my 
summary  of  her  estimable  qualities,  spoken  in  solemn  under- tone,  waa 
said  to  be  a  servile  copy  of  the  obituary  style  ;  as  though  the  language 
of  grief  were  not  always  alike  ! — too  bad  !  too  bad ! 

But  why  should  I  bear  this  ?  Heavens  and  earth !  why  do  I  bear 
this  ? 

"  Have  I  not  suffered  things  to  be  forgiven  ?" 

Shall  I  any  longer  permit  these  monsters,  with  heads  all  vacuum,  and 
with  hearts  like  paving-stones,  to  make  a  highway  of  my  feelings,  that 
they  may  trample  over  them  with  their  most  cloven  hoofs  ?  The  time 
will  come — 

Hilloah  !  hilloah !  who  the  devil's  thundering  at  the  door  ?  Ha  !  a 
letter — a  black  seal — what  do  I  read  ?  My  aunt  dead,  and  left  the  whole 
of  her  property  between  the  Lying-in  Hospital  and  the  Lunatic  Asylum  ? 
I  shall  go  mad,  and  be  dependent  on  her  bounty  in  the  latter  of  these 
institutions.  Horrid  old  woman  !  truly  unprincipled,  and  culpably 
thoughtless  hag  !  I'll  go  this  instant  and  abuse,  threaten,  kick,  and  it 
may  be,  destroy,  the  unworthy  executors  ! 


1830.]  [    .529    ] 

THE    LIFE,    CHARACTER,    AND    BEHAVIOUR    OF    MONSIEUR, 
TALLEYRAND,    THE    FRENCH    AMBASSADOR. 

THE  appointment  of  M.  Talleyrand,  Prince  of  Benevento,  as  ambas- 
sador of  Louis  Philip  the  First  to  the  Court  of  Great  Britain,  has 
excited  in  his  own  country  the  expression  of  conflicting  opinions ;  one 
portion  of  the  public  press  most  acrimoniously  reproaching  him  with 
the  ready  docility  of  his  submission  to  the  various  forms  of  government 
which  have  been  imposed  upon  France  during  the  last  forty  years: 
another  applauding  his  adherence  to  each,  as  a  proof  of  his  wisdom  and 
patriotism,  and  as  but  resorted  to  so  long  as  the  measures  of  successive 
rulers  were  calculated  to  promote  the  welfare  of  France.  Perhaps  the 
apologists  and  the  accusers  of  "  the  Prince" — (Machiavelli,  haply,  pos- 
sessed some  insight  into  Futurity,  as  he  inscribed  the  title  of  his  work) 
— may  find  no  contemptible  materials  of  praise  or  blame ;  but  the  immu- 
nity, accorded  to  ambassadors  in  other  respects,  may,  under  actual 
circumstances,  be  extended  by  us  to  the  past,  public,  and  private  life  of 
Monsieur  Talleyrand.  We  may  adopt  the  prudent  and  grave  maxim  of 
a  French  senator  in  all  trying  events :  and  in  recording  some  of  the 
chances  and  changes  of  his  extraordinary  career  premise,  "  For  me,  I 
have  no  opinion :  that  is  my  sentiment !"  It  has  been  asserted,  and  pro- 
bably with  due  reflection,  of  the  frailties  of  our  nature,  that 

"  On  n'a  pas  toujours  le  moyen 
De  demeurer  homme  de  bien  ;" 

and  if  we  accede  to  the  truth  of  the  observation,  innumerable  difficulties 
are  at  once  removed  by  this  comprehensive  apology  for  the  faults  of 
man :  we  are  at  once  enabled  to  refer  to  Monsieur  de  Talleyrand, 
without  entering  upon  disquisitions  as  to  the  motives  of  his  actions,  or 
the  propriety  of  his  conduct.  We  might,  in  the  first  place,  speculate 
long  and  curiously  on  what  the  feelings  of  Monsieur  I'Ambassadeur 
were,  when  he  entered  London,  as  compared  with  his  first  and  former 
visit  to  our  metropolis.  Now  the  accredited  agent  of  a  mighty  empire; 
an  object  of  intense  interest  to  all  classes  of  British  society,  from  the  strange 
phases  his  life  has  assumed ;  of  a  name  less  illustrious  by  the  honours 
attached  to  it,  than  from  the  high  reputation  for  diplomatic  and  general 
talent  with  which  it  is  connected;  influential  in  his  own  country  by  rank 
and  wealth,  and  the  power  knowledge  confers ;  and  of  a  vigour  in  moral 
faculties  that  mocks  the  infirmities  of  fourscore  years,  and  refuses  to 
participate  in  the  decadency  of  his  physical  powers.  After  having 
enacted,  a  la  rigueur,  the  frivolous  duties  of  a  Parisian  Abbe  in  his  youth, 
as  laid  down  by  the  ancient  regime,  and  given  to  gallantry  all  that  was 
then  required  of  a  noble  aspirant  to  the  honours  of  the  church ;  after 
having  justified  in  the  fields  of  love  and  wit  his  title  to  the  mitre  of 
Autun ;  after  having  abandoned  it  for  the  bonnet  rouge;  and  after  having 
endured  all  the  nominal  pains  of  papal  excommunication,  and  been 
figuratively  exposed  to  the  torments  of  an  auto-da-fe  in  the  streets  of 
Rome,  the  ex-prelate  felt  himself  obliged  to  fly  his  country  ;  and,  nearly 
forty  years  since,  humbled  in  circumstances,  as  depressed  in  spirit,  he 
sought  safety  and  shelter — ("  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  is  but 
a  step,"  indeed) — in  Took's-court,  Cursitor-street,  Chancery-lane — a 
domicile  which,  at  this  day,  may  puzzle  the  geography  and  defy  the 
curiosity  or  conjecture  of  the  fashionable  world — compared  to  which 
Macedonia  itself  is  what  Whitehall  was  erst  to  Alsatia — what  Paris  is  to 
Van  Dieman'sLand — or  what  the  performance  of  recent  candidates  forPar- 
M.M.  New  Series.— Vol.  X.  No.  59.  3  X 


530  The  Life,  Character,  and  [Nov. 

liamentary  distinction  will  be  to  the  better  promises  given  to  their  consti- 
tuents. 

The  "  fair  humanities"  of  that  region  of  the  law  were  insufficient 
to  detain  him  longer  within  its  limits.  The  part  he  had  played,  at 
the  breaking  out  of  the  Revolution,  rendered  him  eminently  distasteful 
to  such  of  his  countrymen  as  had  sought  shelter  in  England  from 
motives  of  loyalty  or  fear  ;  and,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  that  his  presence 
was  scarcely  palatable  to  the  British  government  of  the  day ;  alive,  as  it 
evinced  itself,  to  the  danger  that  threatened  the  country  from  without,  and 
to  the  menacing  attitude  assumed  by  certain  societies  within  the  kingdom. 
These  causes,  probably,  induced  him  to  take  his  passage  to  the  United 
States  of  America.  There  he  found  himself  in  the  precise  situation  of 
a  fair  witness,  recently  examined  by  the  president  of  one  of  the  Parisian 
tribunals :  <e  Are  you  married,  Madam  ?"  "  No,  Sir." — •"  Are  you  a 
widow  ?"  "  No."—"  Are  you  a  spinster  ?"  "  No,  I  am  independent  !" 
In  fact  he  was  independent  of  country,  attachments,  friends,  and  fortune. 
The  latter  he  might  haply  have  offered  to  the  first  mendicant  he  met, 
without  exciting  extraordinary  emotions  of  gratitude  ;  so  he  philosophi- 
cally determined,  in  a  moment  of  hateful  leisure,  to  devote  himself  and 
his  energies  to  the  Republic  of  America,  and  he  became  a  citizen  of 
the  United  States. 

In  the  Museum  of  Philadelphia,  as  I  have  heard  it  told,  amongst 
the  strange  and  anomalous  things  contained  within  its  walls,  a  "  pretty 
considerable"  portion  of  admiration  is  demanded  by  the  custos,  of 
each  coming  visitor,  for  an  oath — The  oath  of  allegiance  of  Monsieur 
de  Talleyrand,  written  with  his  own  hand.  The  simple  Philadel- 
phians  must  be,  however,  rather  indifferent  connoisseurs  in  what  is 
rare.  If  the  asseveration  were  in  the  form  of  the  per  caput  hoc  juro 
of  the  young  Ascanius,  the  value  of  the  invocation  was  certainly  not 
indifferent ;  but,  if  he  preferred  the  terms  of  Homer  to  Virgil,  haply 
he  might  adopt  the  celebrated  wish  of  the  Grecian,  "  that,  if  he  proved 
unfaithful  to  his  contract,  he  might  be  invested  with  horns."  Whether 
the  penalty  thus  voluntarily  attached  to  the  infraction  of  his  engagement 
has  been  imposed  or  not,  will  probably  be  learnt  from  the  Morning  Post, 
on  occasion  of  the  presentation. 

The  homely  and  economic  government  of  the  States,  however,  offered 
to  M.  Talleyrand  little  encouragement  to  ambition  or  the  desire  of 
gain.  The  charge  of  the  Pare  aux  Cerfs,  alone,  would  have  defrayed 
all  the  expenses  of  republican  administration,  and  left  much  to  spare. 
The  glories  of  the  earlier  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  were  also  probably 
not  forgotten.  If  in  his  "  pride  of  place,"  as  minister  of  foreign  affairs, 
he  qualified  us  as  boutiquiers,  with  all  our  refinement,  wealth,  and 
magnificence,  the.sober  forbearance  of  his  new  friends,  in  national  expen- 
diture, must  have  proved  little  suited  to  his  taste ;  and  he  soon  turned  his 
thoughts  to  his  native  land,  leaving  the  Philadelphian  promissory-note 
to  be  protested  when  it  should  become  due.  The  observation  of  Pius 
the  Sixth,  "  That  at  Rome  Heaven  may  be  always  arranged  with,"  was 
equally  applicable  to  Paris,  in  his  case;  and  for  the  fifth  time  Talleyrand 
gave  his  assent  to  a  new  but  existing  order  of  things,  to  the  modes 
whereof  he  associated  himself  with  equal  grace  and  ease ;  and  while  he 
adapted  himself  to  the  times,  looked  to  the  future  in  full  confidence 
that,  ere  long,  the  times  should  adapt  themselves  to  him.  Cool,  calcu- 
lating, and  unimpassioned,  Monsieur  Talleyrand  was  ambitious  of  great- 
ness, more  from  a  taste  of  those  indulgences  which  greatness  may  allow, 


1830.]  Behaviour  of  M.  Talleyrand.  531 

when  wisely  dealt  with,  than  from  the  show  and  parade  that  attends  it. 
But  the  envy  it  excites,  in  tending  to  disturb  his  peace,  was  to  be 
avoided ;  he  determined,  in  so  far  as  it  was  permitted  him,  to  render 
his  talents  serviceable  to  his  country  as  to  himself,  and  thus  to  screen 
himself  by  a  well  acquired  popularity  from  the  ill  effects  of  individual 
jealousy.  Hateful  of  change,  as  calculated  to  prejudice  the  repose  he 
loved,  if  systems  have  actually  given  way  around  him,  it  was  not  for 
want  of  the  warning  voice  of  one  who  could  best  calculate  results ;  and, 
if  he  were  found  ever  identified,  as  a  public  man,  with  the  brighter  pages 
of  his  country's  history,  during  his  eventful  career,  he  contrived,  with 
consummate  policy,  and  without  the  compromise  of  his  safety  or  his 
interest,  that  France  and  the  world  should  comprehend  his  decided 
opposition  to  unwise  measures,  and  his  due  anticipation  of  their  disas- 
trous consequences. 

When  the  war  with  Spain  commenced,  and  the  conqueror  of  armies 
hesitated  not  to  risk  defiance  to  a  people,  the  health  of  the  late  minister 
required  his  absence  from  Paris ;  and,  at  Valency,  he  became  the  friend 
and  guardian  of  a  Bourbon,  and  thus  profited  by  the  very  vengeance  of 
his  then  master,  in  assuring  to  himself  the  gratitude  of  a  family  who, 
he  foresaw  might  be  eventually  summoned  to  replace  him  on  the  throne. 
The  first  restoration  was  also  that  of  health  and  strength  to  the  prince ; 
and  his  subsequent  occasional  attendances  at  court  were  ever  indica- 
tive of  peaceful  rule  and  public  prosperity.  The  romantic  beauties  of 
Switzerland  awoke  suddenly  in  his  mind  the  desire  of  contemplating 
nature  in  all  her  grandeur ;  and  while,  from  the  walls  of  Lausanne,  he 
gazed  upon  the  calm  waters  of  the  Leman,  Messieurs  De  Villele  and 
Peyronnet  were  exercising  Parisian  patience,  now  by  the  censorship  of 
the  press,  now  by  the  abolition  of  the  national  guards.  With  the  nomi- 
nation of  Prince  Polignac,  the  secretion  of  the  prince's  bile  became 
irregular;  and  the  disorder  augmented  to  such  a  degree  as  to  necessitate, 
prior  to  the  celebrated  ordonnances,  a  visit  to  the  Sardinian  territories, 
where  the  almost  miraculous  qualities  of  the  air  of  Nice  enabled  him  to 
return  to  Paris,  precisely  and  appropriately  at  the  moment  the  will  of 
the  nation  called  Louis  Philippe  to  the  throne  of  France.  It  is  true  as 
it  is  singular,  that,  while  his  presence  has  been  hailed  with  joy  by  each 
new  pretender  to  power,  no  one  of  the  fallen  dared  reproach  him  with 
not  having  foretold  the  consequences  of  their  errors.  In  all  his  country's 
storms  he  ever  found  a  shelter ;  and,  whenever  a  shower  of  favours  fell, 
never  was  he  under  an  umbrella.  But  to  leave  politics  for  humaner 
things.  When  the  fair  and  witty  Madame  Tallien  (subsequently  the  wife 
of  Ouvrard,  the  financier)  was  introduced  to  Monsieur  de  Talleyrand, 
in  her  zeal  for  that  liberty  which  was  soon  to  expire  with  the  consulate, 
praising  the  liberal  institutions  of  England,  and  speaking  in  rapture  of 
its  laws,  the  memory  of  her  various  attachments  called  from  him  the 
sarcastic  observation  "  that  undoubtedly  the  habeas  corpus  must  princi- 
pally have  induced  a  preference  in  her  mind  for  the  British  constitution." 
This  was  doing  comprehensive  justice  to  the  somewhat  controverted 
statements  which  la  veuve  de  la  Grande  Armee,  the  virtuous  and 
veridique  Madame  de  Saint-Elme  has  since  presumed  to  advance,  for 
the  instruction  and  improvement  of  an  ungrateful  world.  If  the 
assumption  of  imperial  power  by  the  First  Consul  of  France  was  not 
unpalatable  to  Talleyrand,  in  a  personal  or  political  sense,  the  consti- 
tution of  the  court  was  in  no  slight  degree  repugnant  to  his  feelings 
and  his  taste ;  and  if  he  lent  himself  to  the  will  of  one,  formidable  of 

3X2 


532  The  Life,  Character,  and  [Nov. 

power  as  of  talent,  his  veneration  scarcely  extended  itself  to  those  the 
more  nearly  allied  to  the  chief  of  the  new  government.  "  She  has  the 
head  of  Cromwell,  on  the  shoulders  of  a  pretty  woman/'  was  the 
description  given  of  the  ex-queen  of  Naples ;  and  when  it  was  observed 
to  him,  "  Here  is  a  princess  of  the  blood,"  the  laconic  comment  of 
"  d'Enghien !"  expressed  no  less  his  distaste  of  the  new-born  dignity  than 
it  did, .  as  we  may  hope,  that  foul  blot  on  the  reign  of  Bonaparte,  of 
which  his  enemies  strove  to  render  him  partially  responsible.  It  is  not, 
however,  the  only  instance  in  which  the  courtesy  of  the  prince  towards 
the  fair  sex  was  of  a  questionable  nature ;  for,  when  a  murmur  of 
applause  arose  in  the  imperial  saloon,  on  the  presentation  of  Madame  de 
Lucchesini  (the  lady  of  the  ambassador  of  Prussia),  as  her  elevated 
form,  dark  but  commanding  features,  and  majestic  bearing,  impressed 
the  spectators,  the  remark,  "  We  have  something  better  than  that  in  the 
imperial  guard,"  proved  that,  in  that  instance  at  least,  Monsieur  le 
Ministre  des  Affaires  Etrangeres  included  grace  and  beauty  within  the 
scope  of  his  department. 

Nor  was  he  at  all  more  favourable  to  the  scores  of  newly  concocted 
dignitaries,  who  had  been  so  suddenly  required  to  cast  aside  the 
homely  uniform  of  the  Consular  establishment,  to  invest  themselves 
with  the  gorgeous  costume  of  the  imperial  court,  which  sate  with  better 
grace  on  his  own  form  than  on  his  less  sophisticated  colleagues,  who 
had  not  the  precedent  of  the  courts  of  the  two  last  Louis  to  appeal  to 
for  instruction  or  example ;  and,  as  he  contemplated  the  awkward 
assumption  of  novel  dignity  by  the  minister  of  justice,  he  could  not 
help  observing,  "  I  know  no  greater  ass  than  Maret,  if  it  be  not  the 
Due  de  Bassano."  "  Princes  and  lords  are  but  the  breath  of  kings," 
was  probably  then  present  to  his  mind,  as  it  was  to  that  of  Brogniart, 
the  celebrated  architect  of  Bonaparte,  who,  on  being  Consulted  by  his 
master  as  to  appropriate  residences  for  the  newly  created  Archi  Chance- 
lier,  Archi  Tresorier,  and  other  Arches,  simply  observed,  "  Sire,  it 
would  be  much  more  difficult  to  create  an  architect."  If  the  observation 
were  dictated  by  the  vanity  of  the  Parisian  Nash,  it  had  the  merit  of 
spirit  and  of  truth,  and  Bonaparte  had  equally  the  sense  to  feel  that  his 
times  were  more  exigent  than  those  of  Cosmo  di  Medici,  who  asserted 
that,  "  with  three  ells  of  broadcloth  I  make  a  gentleman ;"  while,  in 
the  absence  of  morality  in  those  who  surrounded  him,  the  semblance 
of  decency  was  at  least  of  value.  The  Regent  Duke  of  Orleans  could 
even,  in  his  day,  turn  with  contempt  from  the  profligacy  he  so 
largely  abetted,  and  bitterly  declare  that  "  the  Court  is  a  vile  place 
— very  vile — greatly  below  the  national  level."  It  was  scarcely  entitled 
to  more  of  respect  during  the  reign  of  his  royal  ward,  when  it  was 
decided  that  "  to  be  a  perfect  courtier  one  must  dispense  with  honour 
and  feeling."  With  more  virtuous  feeling  and  a  better  taste,  Louis  XVI. 
was  obliged  to  accept  the  impure  legacy  bequeathed  him  by  his  grand- 
father, of  a  corrupted  court — an  administration  de  bonis  non;  while  the 
Revolution  had  liberally  set  all  classes,  at  once,  free  from  the  restraints 
of  vulgar  prejudice,  and  the  slightest  regard  for  religion  and  virtue, 
wherever  they  partially  existed  in  France  ;  and,  however  little  practised 
in  either,  the  policy  if  not  the  feeling  of  Napoleon  dictated  a  reform  of 
manners,  and  the  re-establishment  of  moral  observances.  "  Monsieur 
de  Talleyrand  must  marry !"  was  the  imperative  mandate,  that  rather 
ludicrously,  announced  the  auspicium  melioris  cevi.  Monsieur,  as  then 
circumstanced  in  domestic  life,  proved  an  obstacle  to  the  better 


1830.]  Behaviour  of  AT.  Talleyrand.  533 

intentions  of  the  emperor,  and  without  Monsieur  they  could  not  manage. 
So,  as  it  was  a  matter  of  much  indifference  (at  least  to  one  party),  by 
the  aid  of  a  priest  and  the  Consistory  of  Paris,  the  legitimate  establish- 
ment, if  not  the  happiness,  of  the  Prince  de  Benevento  was  beneficently 
augmented. 

Madame  de  Talleyrand  is  said  to  be  a  native  of  Tranquebar,  in  the 
East  Indies,  and  was  endowed  by  nature  with  great  personal  charms, 
which,  while  she  was  yet  very  young,  attracted  the  admiration  of  an 
Anglo-East  Indian  gentleman,  named  Grant,  to  whom  she  gave  her 
hand.  But  that  union  was  scarcely  accomplished  ere  it  was  dissolved ; 
and  the  lady,  quitting  her  husband,  went  to  Calcutta  where,  it  is  reported, 
she  formed  a  connection  with  one  of  the  members  of  government — a 
man  of  rank  and  talent ;  and  where  she  obtained  more  consideration 
in  public  than  would  haply  have  been  accorded  her  in  a  more  fastidious 
state  of  society  ;  until,  having  exhausted  the  gallantry  and  admiration  of 
atrabilious  nabobs,  she  resolved  to  try  her  fortunes  in  the  western  world, 
leaving  legalities  to  brood  over  their  disappointment  and  chagrin,  at  the 
loss  of  beauty,  but  allowing  no  inadequate  stock  of  patience  and  resig- 
nation to  console  and  comfort  them,  on  the  score  of  the  privation  of 
intelligence  or  mind.  From  birth  and  education  all  her  sympathies  had 
been  directed  to  the  shores  of  France,  and  thither  she  resorted,  some- 
what prior  to  the  peace  of  Amiens,  where  possessing  the  pecuniary 
means  of  rendering  herself  prominent  to  the  notice  of  the  Parisians, 
her  appearance  excited  what  was  termed  une  sensation.  In  personal 
charms  she  established  herself  the  successful  rival  of  Mesdames 
Recamier  and  Tallien,  who  could  only  avenge  the  some-time  desertion 
of  their  thrones  by  the  World  of  Fashion,  in  expressing,  with  humour 
and  humeur,  their  contempt  of  the  mendicant  stock  of  wit  with  which 
Madame  Grant  had  been  endowed ;  but  the  declaration  of  "  she  is  a 
fool  of  twenty-four  carats,"  or  without  alloy,  was  powerless  in  contra- 
diction to  the  allurements  of  novelty.  "  The  widow  of  Tranquebar" 
became  as  much  the  rage  as  in  later  days  robes  a  I' ultimatum— ~ 
the  Tunisian  Envoy — Mr.  Henry  Hunt — Sir  Somebody  Something, 
who  went  over  with  a  foolish  address  from  the  "  gentlemen"  at 
the  Crown  and  Anchor — the  Osages,  or  even  the  Giraffe  itself. 

The  roads  to  distinction  in  France  are  more  various  and  irregular 
than  with  us  ;  Madame  Grant  had,  rapidly  as  easily,  attained  the  summit 
of  renown  :  and  one  who  hobbled  slowly  after  called  to  her  to  hold  out  a 
helping  hand  to  aid  him  in  his  ascent ;  for,  under  the  Consular  Govern- 
ment, men  of  the  first  ability  found  not  the  path  so  facile  as  before. 
She  hesitated  for  a  moment ;  but  as  gold  is  tried  by  the  fire,  woman  by 
gold,  and  man  by  woman,  the  arguments  of  her  petitioner  were  irresis- 
tible :  and  if  affection  entered  not  into  the  contract  of  partnership,  the 
views  of  the  lame  lover  and  the  Indian  widow  were  equally  seconded- 
The  sentiments  of  the  world,  as  to  the  spiritual  endowments  of  the  lady, 
were  manifested  by  "  La  Belle,  et  la  Bete,"  applied  to  her  by  her  friends  ; 
while  the  replies  of  the  party  more  particularly  interested  in  their 
display,  afford  the  due  measure  at  which  they  were  appreciated  by 
him. — "  How  could  Madame,  with  her  infant  want  of  sense,  induce  you 
to  -become  connected  ?"  was.  asked  :  "  What  would  you  ?"  was  the 
answer ;  "  Madame  de  Stael  has  so  wearied  me  with  wit,  that  I  deemed 
I  could  never  sufficiently  give  in  to  the  opposite  extreme."  ' '  Simples  we 
all  know  are  possessed  of  Virtues"  was  the  dry  and  uncomplimentary- 
response  to  one  who  deemed  that  he  could  best  pay  his  court  to  Mon- 


534  The  Life,  Character,  and  [Nov. 

sieur,  by  poetically  assuming  the  possession  of  virtue  by  Madame.  The 
peace  of  Amiens  however  came.  The  long  existing  distaste  of  our  na- 
tion to  France  and  Frenchmen,  suddenly  gave  way  to  admiration  of 
Bonaparte  and  Talleyrand.  Many  that  were  noble  and  intellectual 
abandoned  their  native  and  foggy  shores  for  the  genial  climate  of  France  ; 
an  airing  was  given  to  long  dormant  Gallic  vocabularies ;  Fox  in  bad 
French,  and  Erskine  with  no  French  at  all,  strove  to  launch  heavy  and 
equivocal  compliments  to  the  liberal  institutions  of  a  state  verging 
rapidly  to  unmingled  despotism.  The  blood  then  recently  shed  had 
paled  to  the  couleur  de  rose  ;  and  the  worsted  yarn  of  British  flattery  was 
exchanged  for  the  threads  of  sole  et  or  with  which  French  foolery 
led  the  wisest  from  their  way.  Talleyrand  was  too  much  of  a  lion  to  be 
neglected,  nor  was  he  indifferent  to  foreign  praise,  and  his  table  was  at 
the  service  of  his  English  visitors.  One  day,  however,  as  it  has  been 
said,  neglectful  of  the  life's  history  of  her  who  was  there  to  do  its 
honours,  or  indifferent  to  the  events  by  which  it  had  been  marked  in 
another  quarter  of  the  globe,  Madame  found  herself,  as  unexpectedly  as 
awkwardly,  in  juxta-position  with  her  Calcutta  admirer,  whom  she  had 
formerly  abandoned  ;  but  the  "  Speak  to  me  of  Adam"  settled  an  affair 

which  had  promised  to  disturb  the  order  of  the  feast  j  and  Sir 

even  dared  to  recal  to  the  fugacious  memory  of  his  quondam  friend 
circumstances  more  interesting  haply  to  him  than  to  his  host. 

Experience  has  proved  that  where  love,  "  free  as  air,"  becomes  sub- 
missive to  human  ties,  it  plays  strange  vagaries  with  its  manacles  ; 
and  that,  if  public  decorum  be  promoted  by  the  sanction  of  the  church 
being  accorded  to  otherwise  illicit  engagements,  the  leaven  of  discord 
ever  embitters  domestic  arrangements.  Gratitude  is  as  rare,  in  such 
cases,  as  a  white  crow,  a  silent  wit,  a  riotous  Scotchman,  or  a  dis- 
interested attorney  ;  and  Madame  Talleyrand  was  not  reserved  to 
contradict  the  truth  of  the  latter  axiom  at  least  by  her  example.  In 
fact,  the  ex-bishop  and  actual  prince,  if  ever  he  again  consulted  the 
fathers  of  the  church,  might  have  satisfactorily  agreed  to  the  unwise 
proposition  of  Saint  Chrysostom,  "  Quid  est  Mulier  ?  Nisi" — a  rule  Nisi 
made  absolute  in  the  case  referred  to — ce  amicitia  inimica :  ineffabilis 
prena :  necessarium  malum :  desiderabilis  calamitas :  domesticum  peri- 
culum :  delectabile  detrimentum :  mali  natura  boni  decore  depicta." 
The  dogma  of  "  What  woman  wills  God  wills,"  if  not  willingly  coincided 
in,  on  the  one  side,  was  attempted  to  be  forcibly  illustrated  on  the  other ; 
until,  as  the  story  went,  Madame  on  her  return  from  a  soiree  found  her 
house  deserted,  and  the  key  gone — Monsieur  having  adopted  that 
mode  of  suggesting  his  want  of  acquiescence  in  the  deeds  or  sentiments 
of  his  illustrious  moiety.  This  system  of  blockade  was  quickly  followed 
by  reprisals.  The  French  Doctors'-Commons  were  resorted  to,  and  the 
prince  and  statesman  condemned,  if  we  remember  well,  to  assure  alimony 
to  his  spouse  :  and  they  have  since  lived  on  those  pleasing  terms  which 
have  been  but  now  adopted  by  the  Netherlands  and  the  United  Pro- 
vinces, after  a  marriage  concocted  nearly  as  suddenly,  unceremoniously, 
and  imperatively  as  that  of  the  prince. 

Being  required,  in  his  official  capacity,  to  present  the  deputation  of 
the  small  quondam  republic  of  Geneva  to  his  imperial  master,  Monsieur 
de  Talleyrand,  sensibly  alive  to  the  ridiculous,  could  not  but  be  amused 
with  the  display  of  importance  of  the  somewhile  citizen  kings,  who, 
allied  against  their  will  with  la  grande  nation,  failed  not  to  impress  upon 
the  latter  the  high  advantages  derived  by  the  French  people  from  their 


1830.]  Behaviour  ofM.J&teyrand.  535 

union  with  the  magrttfiques  seigneurs  of  the  borders  of  the  Leman : 
compared  with  which  the  resources  of  Great  Britain,  Austria,  Russia,  or 
Italy,  were  mean,  vile,  and  contemptible.  "  Sire,  I  have  the  honour' to 
present  you  the  deputies  of  the  fifth  part  of  the  world."  Bonaparte  may 
have  smiled ;  but  it  is  more  credible  that  the  Genevese  were  scarcely 
discontented  at  the  raillery  of  the  French  minister :  for  the  equivocal 
compliment  was  not  so  extravagant  as  their  vanity,  which  has  at  the 
present  day  yet  further  augmented  with  their  recently  acquired  inde- 
pendence. The  most  humble  of  these  legislators  of  the  lake  would 
regard  with  scorn  a  member  of  the  British  parliament  or  an  Aulic 
councillor ;  and  even  Voltaire  was  doomed  to  feel  his  insignificance  in 
presence  of  Genevese  talent.  "  I  have  just  been  driving  out  with  a  whip 
five  or  six  little  kings,  in  rags,  who  rob  my  apples,"  was  his  sarcastic 
observation  to  a  society  of  republicans  who  met  to  dine  with  him. 
Another  instance  of  their  pride  may  not  haply  be  unamusing.  During 
the  troubles  which  prevailed  within  the  walls  of  Geneva,  Louis  XVI. 
expedited  Monsieur  de  Bauteville  to  the  frontiers  to  watch  their  move- 
ments :  or  as  these  pseudo  Swiss  would  have  fain  supposed,  in  the  fear 
of  their  attempting  the  invasion  of  France.  Whatever  was  the  true 
motive,  De  Bauteville  sat  himself  down  philosophically  at  the  Chateau 
de  la  Chatelaine,  within  half  a  mile  of  this  tremendous  state  :  and,  with 
true  French  indifference  to  danger  when  the  existence  of  the  kingdom 
was  threatened,  erected  a  theatre  for  his  private  amusement ;  and  as 
Seigneur  of  the  place,  according  to  etiquette,  established  himself  in  an 
arm-chair  at  the  side  of  the  stage.  The  Genevese,  who,,  by  the  severity 
of  consistorial  law,  were  denied  the  pleasure  of  dramatic  representations, 
flocked  to  those  accorded  by  the  liberality  of  the  Frenchman  ;  but  their 
levelling  ideas  were  fearfully  disordered  at  the  prominent  position  of 
their  host.  "  Down  with  the  arm-chair  !  Down  with  M.  de  Bauteville  !" 
was  the  grateful  response  of  his  guests  to  the  admission  obligingly  as 
generously  afforded  them  by  the  former,  who,  duly  appreciating  their 
impertinence,  arose,  and  gravely  advancing  to  the  front  of  the  stage, 
observed,  in  giving  them  their  legislative  title,  ce  Mighty  lords  !  you  are 
here  on  the  territory  of  France.  The  first  amongst  you  who  disturbs  the 
public  peace  I  shall  send  to  jail !"  Their  high  mightinesses  took  the 
hint,  silence  was  restored,  and  the  fortunes  of  France  were  for  that 
time  at  least  happily  aided  by  the  rash  firmness  of  the  Lord  de  la 
Chatelaine. 

When  other  and  more  tremendous  events  disturbed  the  peace  of 
France  subsequently  to  the  invasion  of  Russia,  a  gentleman,  well  known 
in  Paris,  and  who  squinted  most  intolerably,  addressed  Monsieur  de 
Talleyrand  with  tf  Well,  Prince,  how  go  affairs  ?"  "  As  you  see"  was 
the  reply :  which,  in  appealing  to  the  distorted  vision  of  his  catechist, 
graphically  told  his  country's  state.  The  failure  of  Simon's  house  at 
Paris,  in  1811,  subtracted,  and  importantly,  from  the  resources  of 
Monsieur  de  Talleyrand,  he  having  lost,  as  it  is  asserted,  no  less  than 
1,400,000  francs  by  its  bankruptcy.  If,  as  it  has  been  allowed,  the 
prince's  wit  is  ready  money,  it  was  an  occasion  on  which  he  might  have 
drawn  largely  on  his  humour ;  but  with  his  known  disposition  to  turn  the 
misfortunes  of  life  into  ridicule,  it  does  not  appear  that  the  coinage  of 
his  brain  was  resorted  to  to  supply  the  deficit  of  his  purse.  On  other 
occasions,  however,  he  feared  not  to  tax  his  imagination  by  speculations 
which  might  well  astonish  (referring  to  the  quarter  whence  they  pro- 
ceeded), had  we  not  hourly,  proof  of  the  extreme  ignorance  of  the  most 


536  The  Life,  Character,  and  £Nav. 

enlightened  men  in  Prance  as  to  England  and  its  concerns.  Bonaparte's 
idea  of  making  Sir  Francis  Burdett  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  in  the 
hypothetical  case  of  his  having  the  direction  of  our  affairs,  and  the  other 
gross  absurdities  imputed  to  him  at  St.  Helena,  evinced  with  what  effect 
he  had  lent  himself  to  the  study  of  the  British  temper  and  character 
(and  he  certainly  had  not  neglected  the  subject),  and  was  really  about 
as  good  as  Talleyrand's  gravely  observing,  in  1814,  "  That  Monsieur  le 
Due  de  Vilain-ton"  —  it  would  be  wanton  cruelty  to  deprive  our 
neighbours  of  that  cherished  morsel  of  bad  pronunciation — ( '  aspired,  as 
he  knew,  to  the  crown  of  England."  If  the  credit  given  at  that  time 
to  the  prince  of  being  the  author  of  the  assertion  were  well  founded, 
his  embassy  to  England  may  be  useful  to  him  on  other  than  public 
grounds. 

This  was  not  the  only  error  into  which  he  was  led  during  that 
troubled  epoch ;  for,  when  the  restoration  of  the  Works  of  Art  in  the 
Louvre,  which  had  been  borrowed  from  other  countries,  was  suggested, 
it  was  sneeringly  observed,  "  That  it  would  require,  at  the  least,  fifty 
thousand  men,  to  see  that  they  were  not  damaged."  Blucher,  however, 
had  less  confidence  in  the  prince's  judgment  than  the  pleased  Parisians, 
with  whom  the  saying  was  repeated  until  the  fatal  day  when  two  troops 
of  horse  were  found  sufficient  to  serve  as  a  cortege  to  the  brazen  steeds 
of  Venice,  and  the  Apollo  and  Venus  received  their  passports  for  the 
Roman  and  Tuscan  states.  In  the  year  1816,  it  was  generally  reported 
that  the  prince  had  been  forbidden  to  appear  at  court,  in  consequence  of 
some  uncomplimentary  comments  on  ministerial  influence  in  elections, 
made  to  M.  Pasquier,  the  then  President  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  at 
the  table  of  the  British  minister.  It  is  little  likely  that  the  hospitality  of 
the  representative  of  George  III.  should  have  been  so  liberally  extended 
as  to  cause  a  revolution  of  character  in  M.  de  Talleyrand,  and  drive 
Prudence  from  her  fast-hold.  Human  wit,  however,  is  feeble :  and 
forbearance  is  not  ever  stronger  than  temptation — as  was  exemplified  at 
the  coronation  of  Charles  X.,  when  the  ancient  observance  of  letting 
loose  a  number  of  birds  was  adhered  to,  the  consequence  of  which 
ingenious  ceremony  was  their  directing  their  flight  to  the  blazing  chan- 
deliers, and  falling,  burnt  and  in  agony,  on  the  heads  of  the  court  and 
spectators.  "  There  is  decidedly  nothing  wanting  to  our  felicity," 
exclaimed  the  prince,  incautiously ;  ' ( see  the  larks  which  are  coming  down 
ready  roasted."  A  look  from  the  chief  actor  in  that  drama  evinced  that 
the  humour  of  the  prince  was  scarcely  relished  :  and  the  cubiculo  regio 
praepositus  was  taught  to  feel,  that  if  the  most  difficult  charge  at  court 
(as  Nell  Gwyn  said  or  swore,)  was  that  of  a  maid  of  honour,  that  of 
chamberlain  was  as  sparingly  allowed  a  lapsus  linguae  as  a  faux  pas  was 
permitted  to  the  honoraria  regia?.  assecla. 

Monsieur  is  now,  however,  like  true  Mocha,  "  little,  old,  and  dry," 
and  experience  like  that  which  he  has  acquired  may  be  rendered 
useful  at  every  period  of  life.  In  his  novel  character  as  ambassador 
to  the  King  of  Great  Britain,  it  is  well  that  he  can  confidently  rely 
on  the  integrity  of  his  memory,  his  judgment,  and  his  tact ;  as  ordi- 
nary mortals,  after  having  had  their  fidelity  and  attachment  appealed 
to  by  thirteen  different  governments,  might  be  apt  to  confound  circum- 
stances wholly  distinct.  But  Monsieur,  undoubtedly,  provides  ere  he 
goes  to  breakfast,  to  assure  himself  of  the  exact  nature  of  the  powers 
that  be,  as  of  the  precise  quality  of  the  duties  of  the  day ;  and  if  w^i  are 
apt,  unflatteringly,  to  wonder  at  the  facility  with  which  the  prince  has 


1830.]  Behaviour  of  M.  Talleyrand.  537 

adapted  himself  to  events  and  their  results,  let  us  remember  that  there 
was  a  period,  in  the  history  of  our  country,  when  a  county  member  sate 
himself  down  to  his  morning's  repast  the  long-tried  friend  of  Protestant 
ascendancy,  and  rose  up  from  the  perusal  of  his  newspaper  and  the 
discussion  of  his  muffin,  fully  convinced  of  the  reasonableness  of  Catholic 
emancipation ;  that,  even  now,  in  the  legislative  assemblies  of  Great 
Britain,  are  to  be  found  those  who  argue  for  a  question  and  vote  against 
it ;  that  expediency  is  sometimes,  even  with  us,  substituted  for  princi- 
ple, and  policy  for  law;  and  that  the  credo  quia  absurdum  of  holy 
Augustin,  whatever  it  might  be  deemed  in  his  times,  is  not  a  solecism 
in  ours.  That  if  France  be  outrageous  for  liberty,  and  Frenchmen  are 
so  careful  of  its  preservation  that  haply  less  of  it  will  be  current  ere 
long  than  they  expect,  the  Belgians  are  in  arms  for  the  Pope  and 
against  Dutchmen,  and  the  Hamburghers  are  thrown  into  convulsions 
at  the  sight  of  an  Israelite.  That  Mr.  Rothschild  in  England,  and  Mr. 
Rothschild  at  Vienna,  are  as  distinct  of  manner  as  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton and  Prince  Metternich, — that  each  and  all  have  special  motives  of 
action :  and  that  if  we  prefer  morality  in  private,  and  study  honesty  in 
public  life,  there  are  others  who,  with  Elizabeth  of  Orleans,  may  frankly 
as  truly  declare,  "  that  they  hate  innocent  pleasures/'  Let  us  finally 
recollect,  that  accipe,  cape,  rape,  sunt  tria  verba  Papce — whether  it 
be  the  infallible  Pius  VIII.,  or  the  more  fallible  and  British  female 
Pontiff,  Pope  Joan. 

THE    UNEARTHLY    ONE. 

THERE  is  a  soft,  retiring  light,  ] 

In  her  blue  eye ; 
Like  some  sweet  star  that  glances  far 

Through  the  still  sky, 
Then  springs  into  the  liquid  air 
Of  heaven,  as  if  its  home  were  there* 

There  is  a  hue  upon  her  cheek, 

That  comes  and  goes  ; 
One  moment  'tis  the  blushing  streak 

That  dyes  the  rose, — 
A  spirit  breathes  upon  her  brow, 
And  she  is  calm  and  pale — as  now. 

And  music,  softly,  sweetly  wild, 

Is  in  her  tone — 
The  distant  voice  of  some  sweet  child 

Singing  alone, 

As  resting  from  its  joyous  play 
By  a  bright  streamlet  far  away. 

I  gaze  upon  her — not  in  love, 

For  love  is  vain  ! 
The  spirit  to  its  home  above 

Returns  again  ; 

And  her's  has  only  wandered  here 
To  dwell  awhile — and  disappear ! 
I  gaze  upon  her — not  in  grief, 

But  half  in  gladness ; 
And  feel  it  is  a  kind  relief 

To  my  life's  sadness, 
To  whisper  as  she  passes,  thus — 

"  Sweet  Spirit,  thou  art  not  of  us!"  G.  B.  I. 

M.  M.  New  Series.—VoL.  X.  No.  59.  3  Y 


[    538    ]  [Nov. 

A    VISIT    TO    TANGIERS. 

(From  the  Journal  of  a  Recent  Traveller.) 

TANGIERS  is  the  first  African  town  which  meets  the  eye  on  entering 
the  Straits  of  Gibraltar ;  it  is  the  residence  of  all  the  European  Consuls 
for  the  empire  of  Morocco,  and  is  considered  the  only  part  in  this 
kingdom  in  which  Europeans  can  reside  with  any  thing  like  comfort  or 
security.  This  town  first  belonged  to  the  Romans  and  afterwards  to 
the  Goths,  and  was  given  up  to  the  Mahommedans  by  Count  Julian.  It 
was  taken,  in  1471,  by  the  Portuguese,  and  given  to  Charles  II.,  king 
of  England,  in  1662,  as  a  marriage  portion  with  the  Princess  Catherine 
of  Portugal.  The  English  abandoned  it  in  1684,  after  having  destroyed 
the  mole  and  fortifications. 

The  inhabitants,  amounting  to  about  15,000,  chiefly  derive  their 
support  from  their  traffic  with  the  opposite  coast  of  Spain,  particularly 
Gibraltar,  and  are  much  more  tractable  than  the  Moors  of  any  other 
part  of  Barbary,  from  their  more  constant  intercourse  with  strangers. 
The  place  would  by  no  means  be  a  disagreeable  residence,  did  not  the 
Moors  so  strongly  oppose  any  innovation  of  their  old  customs,  or  the 
introduction  of  any  improvement.  Such  is  their  repugnance  to  derive 
any  benefit  from  European  example,  that  although  the  resident  Consuls 
have  repeatedly  offered  to  pave  and  cleanse  the  principal  streets  at  their 
own  expense,  it  has  not  been  allowed  for  fear  of  exciting  a  preference 
for  European  customs.* 

My  first  visit  to  this  place  was  in  the  George  the  Fourth  steam-boat, 
in  the  year  1828.  These  vessels  the  Moors  call  "  boxes  of  fire  ;"  they 
eagerly  inquired  if  such  machines  were  used  by  the  Grand  Seignor, 
and  on  being  answered  in  the  negative  their  curiosity  to  view  its  con- 
struction became  greatly  damped.  The  effect  produced  by  an  English 
military  band,  which  accompanied  a  party  of  officers  of  the  garrison  of 
Gibraltar  in  this  excursion,  will  not  be  easily  forgotten  by  those  who 
witnessed  it.  During  the  day  several  pieces  of  music  were  played  in 
the  balcony  of  the  English  Consul's  house,  a  scene  which  had  never 
before  been  witnessed  in  Barbary.  The  whole  population  issued  from 
their  houses,  the  lame,  blind,  and  even  the  bed-ridden  ;  its  real  amount 
was  perhaps  never  known  till  that  hour.  The  sounds  of  the  trombone 
and  clarionet,  like  the  wand  of  Harlequin,  set  them  all  in  motion,  and 
roused  those  who  never  dreamed  of  passing  their  thresholds  but  on  their 
route  to  the  grave.  They  could  scarcely  credit  the  musicians  were 
human  beings,  and  testified  their  joy  in  every  sort  of  rude  antic  ;  even 
women  thronged  the  streets,  and  every  place  from  which  a  sound  could 
reach  the  ear.  It  was  a  music  of  the  spheres  which  has  ever  since 
overwhelmed  the  Barbary  professors  in  their  own  nothingness ! 

There  is  nothing  notable  in  the  town  of  Tangiers  except  the  Alcassaba 
of  the  Bashaw  and  the  Mosque,  which  is  a  plain  neat  building,  kept 
extremely  clean.  Ali  Bey  speaks  of  having  endowed  this  mosque  with 
water,  which  was  then  kept,  according  to  his  account,  in  pitchers ;  it 
however  at  present  possesses  a  handsome  fountain  in  the  midst  of  the 
area,  and  likewise  a  clock,  the  gift  of  one  of  the  European  Consuls. 

*  There  is  a  well  at  Tangiers,  over  which  are  two  slight  Gothic  arches,  said  to  have 
been  built  by  the  English.  In  consequence  of  its  having  been  dug  by  Christians,  the 
Moors  declare  the  water  (although  the  best  in  the  place)  is  not  drinkable,  and  only  give 
it  to  their  horses. 


1830.]  A  Visit  to  Tangier*.  539 

Shortly  after  this  clock  was  introduced  into  the  mosque,  it  stopped. 
The  inconvenience  of  not  knowing  the  exact  hour  of  the  day  was 
acknowledged  to  be  a  great  evil,  but  that  of  admitting  a  Christian  into 
the  sanctuary  to  repair  it  a  still  greater.  A  divan  was  assembled  for 
the  purpose  of  deciding  on  the  propriety  of  getting  the  clock  mended, 
or  of  ejecting  it  altogether.  After  various  debates,  in  which  the  nega- 
tive evidence  of  the  Koran  was  not  considered  sufficient  to  overcome  all 
difficulties,  an  ingenious  Iman  settled  the  point  by  asking  "  How  the 
materials  for  building  the  mosque  were  brought  together?"  "On 
mules  and  asses/'  was  of  course  the  reply.  "  Then  why  not,"  said  this 
sage,  "  allow  an  animal  of  a  Christian  to  come  into  the  mosque  to  perform 
the  work  we  require  to  be  done  ?'' 

Without  the  town  is  the  Zoco,  or  market-place  of  Tangiers,  a  large 
open  space,  where  all  the  cross  roads  from  the  interior  meet.  In  the  centre 
is  the  tomb  of  a  celebrated  saint,  decorated  with  a  number  of  small  flags 
mounted  on  sticks.  Twice  a  week  the  surrounding  country  here  pours 
forth  its  productions  of  live  and  dead  stock,  which  are  all  jumbled  toge- 
ther in  curious  confusion.  Veterinary  surgeons  may  be  here  seen  admi- 
nistering physic  to  a  camel,  which  the  patient  animal  kneels  to  receive  ; 
here  a  travelling  dentist  extracts  the  sufferer's  tooth  with  an  instrument 
resembling  the  picker  used  for  a  horse's  feet ;  and  here  a  perambulating 
auctioneer  traverses  the  market  with  his  merchandize  on  his  back,  invit- 
ing, in  a  voice  of  thunder,  a  fresh  bid  for  his  wares,  swearing  the  most 
dreadful  oaths  to  the  truth  of  the  offer  already  made. 

Women  attend  these  markets,  who  may  be  seen  squatting  beside 
their  heaps  of  soft  soap,  or  butter  thickly  mixed  w4th  goat-hair,  the 
negociation  for  which  they  carry  on  beneath  the  impenetrable  curtain  of 
the  el-haicke,  and  the  broad  brimmed  straw  hat,  which  gives  them  the 
appearance  of  speaking  automatons ;  notwithstanding  wrhich  they  take 
care  never  to  make  blind  bargains.  Beggars  and  saints  likewise  take 
their  stations  here,  whose  lazar-like  appearance  completes  the  panorama 
of  a  Moorish  market. 

The  gardens  of  the  consuls  are  the  next  object  of  attraction ;  these, 
together  with  some  caverns  at  Cape  Spartel,  which  open  on  the  ever- 
agitated  and  tremendous  Atlantic,  whose  breakers  dash  into  their  mouths 
with  the  foam  and  noise  of  angry  lions,  are  almost  the  only  objects  of 
curiosity  in  this  neighbourhood. 

During  the  visit  of  the  Sultan*  of  Morocco,  Muley  Abderachman,  to 
this  place,  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  he  afforded  us  some  specimens  of 
his  dexterous  horsemanship,  by  racing  with  several  of  his  officers  along 
the  sands  of  the  sea-beach.  At  full  gallop,  some  of  the  horsemen  raised 
handfuls  of  sand  from  the  earth  and  scattered  it  in  the  air ;  they  like- 
wise fired  their  guns  at  full  speed,  reloaded,  and  twirled  them  over  their 

*  If  stories  of  scandal  are  to  be  credited,  many  of  which  were  current  at  this  time  at 

Tangiers,  the  sultan  is  most  keenly  alive  to  the  charms  of  a  fat  woman.     Mr. was  in 

the  train  of  suitors  awaiting  his  majesty's  arrival  from  Fez.  Admitted  to  an  interview,  he 
commenced  the  oft-conned  speech  ;  but  the  sultan,  impatient  of  the  discourse,  frequently  in- 
terrupted him  by  asking,  "  If  it  was  true  his  daughters  were  so  beautifully  fat  as  he  had 
heard  reported  ?" — "  No,  no,"  replied  the  affrighted  suitor,  "  I  do  assure  your  majesty 

that  both and (who,  by-the-by,  are  celebrated  for  their  rotundity  of  shape)  are 

nothing  but  skin  and  bone  !"  The  unhappy  gentleman  hastened  from  the  royal  presence, 
bewailing  the  envious  reports,  so  calculated  to  injure  his  loyalty  and  peace  of  mind,  and  so 
destructive  of  the  success  of  the  suit  he  had  to  prefer. 

3  Y  2 


540  A  Visit  to  T anglers.  [Nov. 

heads,  and  at  a  single  check  suddenly  arrested  the  progress  of  their 
horses,  by  throwing  them  completely  back  upon  their  haunches. 

The  curiosity  of  the  Moorish  soldiery  which  attended  the  sultan  was ' 
particularly  discernible  in  the  eagerness  with  which  they  crowded  round 
the  English  officers  to  view  their  uniforms,  &c.  Perhaps  not  a  single 
one  of  these  troops  had  ever  seen  an  European  face.  Under  pretence  of 
admiring  the  dirks  of  the  Highland  officers,  they  were  with  difficulty 
prevented  from  stealing  them.  That  which  they  least  comprehended 
was  the  use  of  the  knife  and  fork  which  the  dirk  contains,  which,  from 
some  misinterpretation  (the  conversation  being  chiefly  conducted  by 
signs),  they  understood  were  used  for  the  purpose  of  cutting  up  and 
devouring  their  enemies  when  killed.  They  were  equally  surprised  at 
the  gloves,  and  could  not  at  all  conceive  why  a  covering  should  be  used 
for  the  hands.  They  professed  themselves  willing  to  sell  their  swords  or 
daggers,  or  any  part  of  their  accoutrements,  which  were  of  the  rudest 
workmanship,  though  the  Moors  are  of  opinion  that  their  guns  are  the 
best  in  the  world,  and  that  foreign  nations  would  be  glad  to  imitate 
them.  One  of  these  was  subsequently  purchased  of  a  gunsmith,  which 
cost  the  unhappy  mechanic  a  hundred  severe  stripes  011  the  feet,  for 
having  dared  to  sell  the  arms  of  his  country  to  an  European ;  and  the 
gun  was  obliged  to  be  conveyed  secretly  on  board  a  vessel  to  be  taken 
out  of  the  country. 

The  principal  characteristics  of  the  natives  of  Barbary  are  cunning 
and  deceit ;  what  they  want  in  knowledge  they  endeavour  to  make  up 
in  subtlety  :  they  are  vain  and  imperious  with  the  weak,  and  submissive 
and  adulatory  with  the  strong,  but  too  often  treacherous  to  all.  They 
possess  a  proverbial  dignity  of  deportment  and  gravity  of  countenance, 
which  at  first  sight  might  be  mistaken  for  the  effect  of  inborn  greatness, 
but  which  is  in  fact  nothing  more  than  that  assumed  garb — the  safety 
of  reserve — often  adopted  by  the  more  polished.  Without  eloquence, 
they  never  want  plausibility,  and  hide  their  deficiencies  beneath  the 
most  artful  pretences.  If  by  any  Chance  the  less  obstinate  are  ever* 
made  to  feel  or  acknowledge  their  inferiority,  it  must  not  be  taken  as  a 
mark  of  diffidence,  but  rather  as  a  means  of  exciting  the  least  unfavour- 
able consideration  of  their  error.  When  defeated  or  detected  in  any 
misdoings,  as  a  last  appeal,  they  exclaim,  "  You  ought  to  forgive  us, 
what  can  you  expect  from  barbarians  ?"  a  name  which  they  are  aware 
attaches  to  them  in  Europe.  But  their  ingenuity  is  by  no  means  to  be 
depreciated :  it  enables  them  in  many  instances  to  cope  with  their  more 
learned  neighbours. 

Whilst  all  the  world  was  striving  to  get  rid  of  the  poll-tax  imposed 
on  foreigners  entering  the  garrison  of  Gibraltar,  the  Moors,  who  were 
most  averse  to  its  payment,  soon  brought  their  negociations  on  the  sub- 
ject to  a  close.  Every  nation,  and  even  the  English  inhabitants  of  Gib- 
raltar themselves,  had  complained  of  the  illiberality  of  this  tax,  but  in 
vain ;  the  Berberiscos  therefore  resolved  upon  having  something  good 
in  return.  They  threatened  to  levy  a  tax  of  two  dollars  per  head 
(instead  of  one  real  of  vellon  per  day)  on  every  Englishman  setting  foot 
in  Barbary.  The  idea  was  certainly  founded  in  perfect  reciprocity,  and 
could  not  be  quarrelled  with  ;  but  this  threat  so  alarmed  the  good  father 
of  the  invention,  that  the  ghost  of  Wat  Tyler  himself  could  not  have 
made  him  more  uncomfortable.  His  wisdom  was  for  the  first  time 
awoke  to  the  manner  in  which  he  had  exposed  Englishmen  to  have  the 


1830.]  A  Visit  to  Tangiers.  541 

same  compliment  returned  them  at  every  town  through  which  they 
passed.  Nothing  was  now  wanting  but  a  good  reason  towards  "  the 
most  favoured  nations"  to  exempt  the  Moors  from  the  payment  of  the 
tax.  As  an  exemption  had  been  generally  made  in  favour  of  military 
men,  the  Moors  "  decreed  that  they  might  all  be  called  military  men," 
for,  said  they,  "  we  are  all  obliged  to  carry  arms  to  serve  our  sultan  in 
time  of  need."  The  hint  was  accepted,  and  the  Arabs,  who  bring  pro- 
visions to  the  Gibraltar  market,  are  exonerated  from  the  payment  of 
the  tax.* 

The  blacks  are  the  only  slaves  that  can  be  bought  and  sold  in  Bar- 
bary  ;  this  traffic  is  merely  carried  on  for  the  use  of  the  Mahommedans. 
Timbuctoo  is  the  chief  market,  from  whence  they  are  generally  brought 
at  a  very  tender  age.  They  are  as  great  strangers  in  Barbary  as  Euro- 
peans themselves,  and  consent  reluctantly  to  the  ceremonies  of  that  faith 
to  which  they  are  compelled  to  submit.  The  Moors  are  generally  care- 
ful to  purchase  these  slaves  young,  in  order  that  they  may  not  cherish 
any  recollection  of  their  former  liberty  nor  make  any  attempt  to  escape. 
The  boys  are  employed  as  servants,  and  often  undergo  that  cruel  muti- 
lation which  the  Moors  refuse  to  inflict  on  their  horses ;  the  females 
generally  find  a  place  in  the  harems  of  the  rich,  from  whence  (being 
the  only  privileged  class)  they  are  turned  abroad  to  pursue  any  vocation 
they  think  proper. 

The  half-castes  are  of  divers  hues  and  features,  and  often  heighten 
their  natural  ugliness  by  tattooing  the  face  and  body.  These  form  a  great 
share  of  the  population  of  Barbary,  and  retain  marks  of  their  origin  till 
the  third  and  fourth  generation,  when  physical  distinction  becomes  greatly 
confounded ;  but  as  the  population  is  always  renewable  from  the  stock 
from  which  they  spring,  the  present  race  of  Moors  are  more  likely  to 
degenerate  than  improve. 

To  the  religious  prejudices  of  the  Moors  may  be  ascribed  the  marked 
difference  which  exists  between  the  African  and  European  world ;  pre- 
judices  which  alone  form  the  great  bane  of  civilization,  and  which  have 
separated  the  Mahommedans  for  upwards  of  1200  years  from  their  fel- 
low-creatures, even  to  the  preservation  of  their  original  costume,t  with- 
out the  slightest  alteration  which  intercourse  or  convenience  might  sug- 
gest ;  prejudices  which  set  them  at  variance  with  every  nation  of  the 
world.  The  descendants  of  Ishmael  are  to  this  hour  what  scripture  has 
prophecied.J  In  the  midst  of  civilized  nations,  they  are  not  bound  by 
any  reciprocration  of  benefits  or  the  common  ties  of  amity  and  good  will, 
but  cherish  feelings  hostile  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  which  will  endure  as 
long  as  the  religion  of  Mahomet  itself,  till  another  conqueror  and  legis- 

*  This  tax  is  now  very  properly  abolished ;  it  is  a  wonder  it  should  have  existed  so 
long,  or  that  men  in  office  should  have  been  allowed  to  devise  taxes  in  order  to  increase 
their  own  salaries. 

•f-  The  dress  of  the  Moors,  although  it  is  contended  that  it  is  in  strict  accordance  with  the 
law  of  physics,  yet  appears  a  great  anomaly.  The  head  is  shaved  for  the  sake  of  coolness,  and 
afterwards  covered  with  a  thick  woollen  cap,  twisted  round  with  several  rolls  of  muslin. 
The  dress  itself  would  be  considered  hot  and  cumbersome  even  in  England.  The  clean- 
liness of  the  Moors  is  equally  equivocal :  although  strict  in  the  observance  of  the  five  daily 
ablutions  commanded  by  Mahomet,  they  seldom  keep  up  a  corresponding  propriety  by  a 
change  of  linen,  and  sleep  at  night  in  the  greater  part  of  the  dress  worn  by  day. 

$  "  And  he  will  be  a  wild  man  ;  his  hand  will  be  against  every  man,  and  every  man's 
hand  against  him ;  and  he  shall  dwell  in  the  presence  of  all  his  brethren." 


542  A  Visit  to  Tangier*.  [Nov. 

lator  Blmll  destroy  at  the  point  of  the  sword  that  which  it  enforced — the 
IUWH  and  maxims  contained  in  the  Alcoran  ! 

Yet  it  is  perhaps  not  so  much  to  the  Alcoran  itself,  as  to  the  numerous 
expositions  and  commentaries  by  interested  priests,  who  have  embar- 
ra-sed  .'ind  confused  the  belief  of  Mussulmans,  that  m.'iy  be  ascribed  much 
of  the  superstition  and  bigotry  which  at  present  exist,  and  which  have 
clogged  their  minds  with  an  endless  tissue  of  good  and  evil  omens. 
One  of  their  great  superstitions— the  evil  eye — so  universally  credited  by 
the  Mahommedans  of  Western  Barbary,  has  been  often  spoken  of  with- 
out being  explained.  In  seeking  supernatural  causes  to  which  misfor- 
tunes may  be  attributed,  they  have,  amongst  other  things,  supposed 
that  the  devil  has  commissioned  agents  on  earth  to  spread  evil,  who  are 
generally  ill-looking  people,  with  glaring  eyeballs.  Thus  a  JWoor, 
previous  to  entering  into  any  conversation  or  transaction  with  a  stranger, 
examines  him  well  ;  and  should  lie  have  any  reason  to  suspect  that  per- 
son gifted  with  the  evil  eye,  he  will  have  no  dealings  with  him,  however 
tempting  the  profit.  The  evil  eye  may  be  set  on  a  child,  and  blight  its 
foil unes  through  life,  of  which  parents  are  so  fearful,  that  it  is  some- 
ndrd  with  a  loss  of  friendship  to  admire  a  child,  as  in  so  doing 
the  baleful  glance  is  often  cast  upon  them.  To  shield  them  from  the 
contagion,  they  will  snatch  them  up  and  hide  them  in  cellars.  But  these 
poisons  have  their  antidote  ;  and  in  the  remedy  of  the  physician  may  be 
traced  the  origin  of  the  disease.  The  priests  vend  amulets  possessing 
counter  charms,  which  people  sometimes  wear  about  their  necks.  Ano- 
ther remedy  is  to  hold  up  the  right  hand,  with  outspread  lingers,  and 
exclaim,  "  five  to  your  eyes."  Children  also  wear  a  small  silver  hand, 
with  extended  fingers,  to  guard  against  the  accidental  rencontre  of  Satan's 
agents. 

Though  men  of  business-like  talent,  are  sometimes  met  with  in  Bar- 
bary, still  their  system  of  education  is  not  such  as  to  open  a  field  for 
any  display  of  genius  :  the  chief  object  of  a  father  is  to  teach  his  son  the 
laws  of  the  Koran ;  this  precious  book  is  to  supply  him  with  food  and 
drink,  and  shelter  him  from  his  enemies  in  time  of  need.  The  expound- 
ing of  its  mysteries  and  hyperbolical  meanings  is  a  knowledge  which 
the  Moors  would  not  exchange  for  the  most  useful  science  in  existence. 
The  first  ten  years  of  a  boy's  education  is  devoted  to  religious  study, 
beyond  which  learning  has  come  to  a  dead  halt.  At  the  age  of  thirteen 
youth  are  allowed  to  attend  the  mosques,  where  they  are  initiated  inio 
the  rites  of  the  Mahommedan  religion —at  this  period  they  are  separated 
from  the  society  of  female  children,  and  even  the  faces  of  their  own 
sisters  they  can  never  behold  more  1 

This  state  of  society  naturally  checks  the  growth  of  all  social  feelings, 
and  robs  life  of  all  the  endearments  which  spring  from  family  love  ;  nor 
are  the  ties  of  consanguinity  strengthened  by  this  estrangement,  of  which 
many  proofs,  like  those  related  by  Ali  Bey  of  Muley  Solyman's  seraglio, 
might  be  cited. 

It  is  at  the  early  age  of  thirteen  that  the  dreadful  fast  of  the  Ramazan  is 
In  i  (  t\rd,  which,  notwithstanding  the  general  opinion  of  its  being  a 
.--light  penance  for  the  rich,  who  sleep  (luring  the  day,  is  so  much  the 
reverse,  that  towards  the  end  of  the  thirty  days  their  sufferings  become 
insupportable,  especially  w  hen  it  falls  during  the  summer  months  :  for 
a  period  of  at  least  sixteen  hours  per  day  they  are  not  even  allowed  to 
smoke,  an  abstinence  which  renders  them  pale,  emaciated,  and  sometimes 


1830.]  A  Visit  to  Tangiers.  543 

frantic.  Such  is  the  rigidity  with  which  they  observe  this  anniversary 
of  the  flight  of  the  prophet  from  Mecca  to  Medina,  that  it  is  only  in 
case  of  absolute  danger  of  life,  or  in  time  of  warfare,  that  the  Imans 
can  absolve  them  from  its  continuance,  and  only  then  on  condition  of 
its  being  resumed  subsequently,  to  atone  for  the  dereliction. 

At  the  feast  of  the  Bairam,  which  follows,  the  Mahommedans  resort 
to  the  fields  to  offer  up  their  prayers  to  Heaven,  in  no  temple  but  that 
of  Nature,  at  no  altar  but  that  of  the  mountains  and  the  skies,  and 
where  all  alike  raise  their  voice  to  the  Creator,  without  the  mediation 
of  a  priest !  This  is  a  portion  of  their  worship  which  the  intolerant 
and  bigoted  would  do  well  to  bear  in  memory. 

In  the  Turkish  dominions  this  feast  is  celebrated  with  some  splendour, 
but  in  Barbary  the  Moors  merely  walk  about  in  their  best  dresses,  and 
testify  their  joy  at  being  again  allowed  to  eat  during  the  day,  and  to 
associate  with  their  wives,  by  good  feasting,  the  noisy  discharge  of 
fire-works,  and  the  amusement  of  the  lab-el-barode,  or  firing  of  powder. 

The  burials  of  the  Mahommedans  without  coffins,  the  hurried  manner 
in  which  they  are  taken  to  the  grave  (it  being  supposed  the  deceased 
is  not  called  into  the  presence  of  Mahomet  till  covered  by  the  earth), 
the  death-song  of  the  followers,  the  placing  of  the  face  towards  Mecca, 
with  the  hand  beneath  the  head,  as  well  as  most  of  their  religious 
ceremonies,  are  subjects  on  which  too  many  treatises  have  been  written 
to  need  enumeration  here,  and  which  once  known  excite  no  farther 
interest.*  S.  B— . 


A    MALT-ESE    MELODY. 

Charles  Barclay,  Esq., 

"  SOBRIETY,  cease  to  be  sober, 

Cease,  Labour,  to  dig  and  be  dirty ; 
Come  drink — and  drink  deep  ;  'tis  the  tenth  of  October, 

One  thousand  eight  hundred  and  thirty  !" 
Oh  !  Horace,  whose  surname  is  Smith, 

Whose  stanza  I've  carved  as  you  see, 
The  troubles  and  terrors  we're  now  compassed  with 

Were,  eighteen  years  since,  sung  by  thee  ! 

When  a  liquid,  by  millions  held  dear, 

Becomes  cheap,  there  is  cause  to  repine  ; 
For  I  feel  that,  if  each  man  may  sell  his  own  beer, 

I  shall  shortly  be  laid  upon  mine. 
Even  now,  as  I  write  it,  my  eye  fills 

With  sorrow's  sad  essence  of  salt  ; 
Revolutions  in  Malta  are  innocent  trifles 

To  this  revolution  in  malt  1 

»  Monsieur  Chenier,  in  speaking  of  the  Moors,  remarks,  "  They  ask  their  dead  why  they 
would  die,  whether  they  wanted  any  thing  in  this  world,  and  if  they  had  not  cuscousou 
enough  ?"  "  Their  burial  places  are  without  the  town.  They  make  their  graves  wide  at 
the  bottom,  that  the  corpse  may  have  sufficient  room ;  and  never  put  two  bodies  into  one 
grave,  lest  they  should  mistake  each  other's  bones  at  the  day  of  judgment.  They  also 
carry  food,  and  put  money  and  jewels  into  the  grave,  that  they  may  appear  as  respectable 
in  the  other  world  as  they  had  done  in  this.  They  imagine  the  dead  are  capable  of  pain. 
A  Portuguese  gentleman  had  one  day  ignorantly  strayed  among  the  tombs,  and  a  Moor, 
after  much  wrangling,  obliged  him  to  go  before  the  cadi.  The  gentleman  complained  of 
violence,  and  asserted  he  had  committed  no  crime  ;  but  the  judge  informed  him  he  was 
mistaken,  for  that  the  poor  dead  suffered  when  trodden  on  by  Christian  feet." 


544  A  Malt-ese  Melody.  [[Nov. 

Ten  thousand,  let  loose  from  their  lairs, 

Stagger  forth  to  effect  our  undoing ; 
And  the  press,  predetermined  to  treat  us  as  bears, 

Now  issues  a  Treatise  on  Brewing. 
The  poets  all  bless  the  new  law, 

And  swallow  their  purl  as  they  wink  ; 
While  artists,  who  usually  drink  when  they  draw, 

May  now  go  and  draw  what  they  drink. 

Yet  each  Blue  should  indignantly  mark 

All  those  who  this  measure  have  planned  ; 
For,  strange  though  the  issue  must  seem,  the  bright  barque 

Of  Landon  may  soon  strike  on  land ; 
Hannah  More,  growing  less,  may  be  passed  ; 

While  an  earthquake  may  ruin  our  Hall ; 
Even  Bowles,  while  at  play,  may  meet  rubbers  at  last, 

Since  Porter  has  had  such  a  fall ! 

The  world  may  well  laugh  when  it  wins, 

And  its  mirth  is  the  knell  of  our  crimes ; 
Like  the  rest  of  the  outs,  we  look  up  to  the  inns, 

For  their  signs  are  as  signs  of  the  times. 
Who  can  say  where  calamity  stops  ? 

Where  hope  puts  an  end  to  our  cares  ? 
Alas !  we  seem  destined  to  carry  our  hops 

Where  the  kangaroos  thrive  upon  theirs. 

How  sweet  wert  thou,  sweetwort !  until 

The  tempest  came  growling  so  near  ; 
Till  ruthless  Economy  came  with  its  bill, 

Like  a  vulture,  and  steeped  it  in  beer. 
Reduction's  among  the  court-beauties, 

Just  now  ;  and  there  might  be  a  plan, 
As  the  Don  and  his  Sancho  are  taking  off  duties, 

To  take  the  Whole  Duty  off  Man. 
i, ' 

The  nation  seems  caught  in  the  net 

Where  the  foes  of  Mendicity  lurk, 
And  fearing  abuse,  is  determined  to  set 

The  beer,  like  the  beggars — to  work. 
It  at  least  will  supply  us  with  cuts 

To  the  Tale  of  a  Tub  we  must  learn ; 
So  that  having  long  prospered  and  flourished  on  butts, 

We  have  now  become  butts  in  our  turn. 

From  eagles  we  sink  into  bats, 

And  flit  round  a  desolate  home ; 
While  those  of  each  firm  who  can  roam  from  their  vats, 

May  visit  thy  Vatican,  Rome ! 
And  there,  growing  classic,  we'll  move 

Great  Bacchus  to  back  us  alone  ; 
Who,  hating  mean  malt,  may  yet  kindly  approve 

This  whine  while  he's  drinking  his  own. 

Yet  this  we  must  all  of  us  feel, 

And  while  we  admit  it  we  weep. 
The  profession  is  far  less  select  and  genteel 

Since  beer  became  vulgar  and  cheap. 
But  "  I'm  ill  at  these  numbers" — they're  o'er  ! 

Both  pathos  and  bathos  have  fled ; 
The  world,  were  I  dead,  would  not  want  a  Whit-more, 

For  it  knows  that  I'm  not  a  Whit-bread  !  B. 


1830.]  [    545    ] 

THE    CONDITION    AND    PROSPECTS    OF    THE    COUNTRY    A.T    THE 
OPENING    OF    THE    NEW    PARLIAMENT. 

WE  believe  there  never  was  a  period  at  which  the  meeting  of  a  new 
parliament  was  looked  forward  to  with  more  intense  anxiety  than  at  the 
present  moment ;  yet  never,  probably,  were  the  expectations  of  a  people 
so  indefinite  and  so  opposite  in  their  tendency.  The  events  which  have 
so  recently  taken  place  in  a  neighbouring  country,  and  of  which  the 
consequences  have  spread,  or  are  even  now  making  progress,  through 
every  state  in  Europe,  are  look  ed  upon  in  this  country  with  enthusiasm 
by  some,  and  by  others  with  fear.  By  all,  these  events  are  viewed  with 
perplexity ;  and  by  all  it  is  agreed,  that  the  future  welfare,  almost  the 
existence,  of  the  nation  must  depend  upon  the  measures  and  policy  of  the 
ensuing  session.  Whilst  our  foreign  relations  are  daily  assuming  a  more 
equivocal,  if  not  a  more  dangerous  position,  the  internal  arrangements 
of  the  country  are  acknowledged  to  require  great  and  important  changes  ; 
and  it  is  evident  to  all  classes  of  observers,  that  the  present  Administra- 
tion is  most  profoundly  ignorant,  not  only  of  the  nature  of  these  changes, 
but  of  their  necessity. 

The  present  Parliament  succeeds  one  which,  for  incapacity  and  ser- 
vility, has  not  been  equalled  within  the  memory  of  older  men  than  our- 
selves. We  have  viewed  its  measures  in  detail,  and  we  have  traced  them 
in  their  several  and  collective  operations,  and  have  no  hesitation  in 
declaring,  that  a  more  stupendous  mass  of  folly  and  presumption  has 
never  been  placed  on  record.  In  fact,  we  can  scarcely  suppose  that  any 
set  of  human  beings  could  have  merely  blundered  into  such  measures,  so 
perfect  does  their  adaptation  seem  to  the  views  of  the  most  virulent 
enemy  of  our  well-being.  We  doubt  much  if  the  genius  of  any  man, 
living  or  dead,  could  have  framed  a  system  of  destruction  so  complete 
in  all  its  parts  as  that  of  the  late  Parliament ;  and  yet,  even  now,  with 
its  consequences  before  our  eyes — in  our  households  and  around  our 
doors — and  these  consequences  bankruptcy,  poverty,  and  starvation — 
we  are  called  upon  to  uphold  that  system,  or  to  forfeit  the  character  of 
"  liberal  and  intelligent  men." 

So  far  as  we  have  been  able  to  discover,  the  leading  principle  of  poli- 
tical economy — as  it  has  been  applied  by  the  late  Parliament  to  our 
commercial  arrangements — is,  ' '  the  impolicy  of  all  monopolies."  It  has 
been  asserted  that  we  have  an  undoubted  right  in  all  cases — whether  as 
individuals  or  as  members  of  a  community — to  go  to  the  cheapest  mar- 
ket for  our  goods — that  a  regulation  which  prevents  us  from  buying  of 
the  foreign  manufacturer,  in  cases  when  we  can  do  so  cheaper  than  of 
our  manufacturer  at  home,  is  impolitic  and  unjust — and,  consequently, 
that  it  is  perfectly  right  and  wise  to  allow  the  foreigner,  in  all  eases 
where  he  can  under-sell  our  own  merchant,  the  unrestricted  privilege  of 
doing  so.  Now  we  apprehend  that  this  doctrine  of  the  impolicy  of 
monopolies,  although  perhaps  true  in  the  abstract,  is  not  equally  so  in 
its  application.  There  is  a  material  difference  between  a  national  mono- 
poly and  one  that  is  merely  personal.  The  latter  is,  in  most  cases,  bene- 
ficial to  one  class  of  the  community  at  the  immediate  expense  of 
another  ;  and  we  admit  that  it  is  bad,  and  ought  to  be  relinquished ;  but 
the  former,  as  it  diffuses  its  benefits  over  the  whole  face  of  the  commu- 
nity, ought  not  to  be  so  summarily  dealt  with.  It  is  not  vicious,  merely 
because  it  is  a  monopoly,  but,  on  the  contrary — in  its  general  reference 

M.  M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  59.  3  Z 


546  The  Condition  and  Prospects  of  the  Country,  [Nov. 

to  the  interests  of  the  nation  by  whom  it  is  enjoyed — it  is  highly  advan- 
tageous. In  our  relations  one  with  another,  as  members  of  a  commu- 
nity, we  are  bound  by  the  strong  ties  of  mutual  interests ;  and  the 
privileges  and  protection  which  we  thus  enjoy,  must  be  repaid  by 
reciprocal  services.  If  the  merchant  gains  a  profit  by  the  consumption 
of  the  farmer,  he  must  repay  it  by  taking  the  produce  of  the  latter. 
He  is  bound  to  do  so ;  because  the  interests  and  the  very  existence  of 
that  society  of  which  he  is  a  member,  can  only  thus  be  supported. 
Bui  in  our  external  relations  with  other  states,  the  case  is  widely  diffe- 
rent. We  are  bound  to  look,  not  to  the  interests  of  a  part  of  the 
community  which  may  be  benefited  by  any  concessions  made  to  those 
states,  but  to  the  interest  of  the  whole — that  whole  consisting  of  our 
own  community  alone.  So  far  as  we  are  bound  in  our  relations  with 
other  states,  by  treaty  or  by  mutual  and  general  advantage,  we  ought 
to  perform  ;  but  we  are  not  called  upon,  either  in  justice  or  in  sound 
policy,  to  yield  up  one  iota  of  our  exclusive  privileges.  In  most 
instances  the  country  has  acquired  such  privileges  at  an  immense  cost 
of  blood  and  treasure ;  and  in  some,  even  by  the  exchange  of  valuable 
territory ;  and  any  measure  of  government  which  even  endangers  their 
continuance,  ought  justly  to  be  condemned  as  foolish  and  wicked. 

Yet  during  the  late  few  years  we  have  seen  these  valuable  privileges 
assailed  on  every  side.  Led  on  by  the  vague  theories  of  visionary 
fanatics,  the  legislature  has  embarked  in  a  wild  scheme  of  universal 
philanthropy,  by  which  the  best  interests  of  the  country  have  been 
crippled,  or  wantonly  sacrificed,  for  the  attainment  of  objects,  which 
even  the  wise  heads  of  their  projectors  have  been  unable  to  define.  A 
reckless  system  of  innovation  has  struck  with  deep  and  deadly  effect  at 
the  root  of  our  prosperity ;  and  the  consequences  are  that  we  have 
endured,  and  are  still  enduring  unparalleled  suffering.  Yet  this  system 
is  allowed  to  continue  its  progress  although  its  evils  are  felt  by  all 
classes  of  the  community,  whilst  not  an  argument  is-  brought  forward 
which  has  not  been  a  thousand  times  refuted,  and  not  a  hope  is  held 
out  of  its  final  success,  the  futility  of  which  is  not  daily  more  appa- 
rent. 

We  shall  briefly  glance  at  the  distress  which  this  system  has  entailed 
upon  some  of  the  leading  interests  of  the  country.  The  agricultural 
interest  is  that  which,  from  the  insular  position  of  Great  Britain,  and 
from  its  dense  population,  ought  naturally  to  claim  the  greatest  encou- 
ragement from  the  legislature ;  and  yet,  contrary  to  all  reason  and 
sound  policy,  it  has  been  the  first  to  be  attacked  and  wantonly  sacrificed. 
It  has  been  proved,  to  the  satisfaction  of  unprejudiced  persons,  that  in 
average  years,  we  are  able  to  raise  produce  fully  equal  to  our  consump- 
tion ;  and  that,  when  the  whole  of  our  hitherto  unproductive  land  is 
brought  into  cultivation,  this  sufficiency  will  be  encreased  into  abun- 
dance. Under  such  circumstances,  it  would  naturally  seem  to  be  the 
policy  of  the  legislature  to  afford  full  scope  for  the  productive  powers 
of  the  country,  judging  that  the  produce  of  the  soil  is  not  only  the  source 
of  all  national  wealth,  but  is  in  itself  a  part  of  that  national  wealth.  It 
has,  however,  been  considered  otherwise  by  the  enlightened  philosophy 
of  the  age.  The  landed  interest  has  been  stigmatized  by  the  appellation 
of  monopoly — the  passions  of  the  multitude  have  been  appealed  to,  and 
even  the  fluctuation  of  prices  consequent  upon  the  inscrutible  decrees 
of  Providence  have  been  attributed  to  the  griping  exorbitance  of  the 


1830.]  at  the  Opening  of  the  New  Parliament.  547 

landholders.  This  cry  has  been  eagerly  repeated,  alike  by  the  manu- 
facturer, the  public  annuitant,  and  the  fundholder. 

At  this  moment,  when  the  first  excitement  of  the  measure  has  passed 
away,  we  are  called  upon  to  look  steadily  upon  its  consequences,  and 
to  examine  whether  the  arguments  which  were  advanced  in  its  support, 
have  or  have  not  been  confirmed.  The  manufacturer  was  led  to  expect 
not  only  a  very  material  reduction  in  the  cost  of  the  necessaries  of  life, 
but  also  an  increase  in  his  profits  and  in  the  extent  of  his  commerce. 
The  labourer  was  led  to  expect  an  increase  of  wages,  accompanied  with 
a  decrease  in  the  price  of  provisions.  Have  such  expectations,  we  ask, 
been  fulfilled  ?  Have  they  ever  been  partially  fulfilled,  or  is  there  the 
most  remote  hope  that  they  will  ever  be  so  ?  They  are  allowed  on  all 
hands  to  have  utterly  failed.  The  labourer  has  not  gained  any  thing, 
for  the  price  of  labour  has  declined  even  more  than  the  price  of  corn, 
and  in  truth  it  was  never  intended  by  the  real  agitators  of  the  measure 
that  the  labourer  should  gain.  The  manufacturer  intended  that  so  much 
as  was  taken  from  the  farmer  should  be  added  to  his  own  profits.  Has  this 
been  the  case  ?  No — the  profit  of  the  manufacturer  has  been  progres- 
sively declining  since  the  measure  was  passed.  The  very  parties  whose 
selfish  views  were  consulted  have  been  disappointed  in  their  expectations  ; 
and  yet,  to  gratify  this  restless  and  unprincipled  spirit  of  experimental 
legislation,  a  great  proportion — in  fact,  the  greatest  proportion — of  the 
moral  and  numerical  strength  of  the  country  has  been  thrown  into 
wretchedness  and  poverty. 

It  would  be  very  easy  to  shew  the  impolicy  of  this  measure,  and  its 
injustice  to  a  deserving  and  estimable  part  of  the  community ;  but, 
with  the  fact  of  its  utter  failure  before  our  eyes,  we  apprehend  that  argu- 
ment is  unnecessary.  We  shall  therefore  proceed  to  view  the  object  of 
the  legislature,  as  evinced  in  this  and  similar  measures.  The  policy  of 
ministers  has  been  to  throw  the  entire  strength  of  the  country  into  the 
hands  of  the  manufacturing  interest,  to  the  exclusion  and  at  the  expense 
of  every  other.  We  were  to  advance  this  object  by  any  sacrifice — even 
by  the  total  subversion  of  the  existing  state  of  society.  We  were  to 
monopolize  the  commerce  of  the  world,  and  it  was  roundly  asserted  that 
we  were  able  to  effect  this,  in  despite  of  our  heavy  taxation,  by  even- 
handed  competition  with  other  states  which  were  comparatively  unbur- 
thened  with  debt.  We  were  to  throw  aside  every  privilege  which  we 
had  formerly  enjoyed — to  relinquish  every  protection  which  the  wisdom 
of  our  ancestors,  and  in  many  instances,  the  success  of  long  and  arduous 
warfare,  had  wrested  from  the  possession  of  the  continental  powers. 
We  were  to  throw  open  our  ports  to  the  world ;  and  then,  alone, 
unaided,  in  our  naked  strength,  we  were  "  to  weave  and  spin  against  a 
world  in  arms  ! !" 

Such  was  the  magnificent  picture  which  was  held  out  to  the  sanguine 
imaginations  of  our  manufacturers;  but  unfortunately  one  material 
objection  was  overlooked.  The  age  of  chivalry  had  gone  by.  In  these 
degenerate  days  men  prefer  to  fight  with  odds ;  and  the  world  was  too 
old  a  soldier  to  quit  her  "  points  of  fence,"  and  doff  her  triple  mail,  for 
the  dangerous  frolic  of  entering  the  ring  with  an  armed  barbarian. 
The  note  of  challenge  was  sounded  in  vain,  and  the  exhibition  of  our 
naked  person  appeared  so  formidable  that  the  world  was  wary  enough 
to  keep  her  valuables  under  lock.  She  was  sufficiently  eager  to  share 

3  Z  2 


548  The  Condition  and  Prospects  of  the  Country,  £Nov. 

in  the  advantages  so  prodigally  offered ;  but  to  the  "  march  of  liberality" 
and  reciprocity  she  was  impregnable. 

Now  we  do  not  by  any  means  blame  the  world,  but  we  do  most 
strongly-  blame  our  own  legislature.  We  accuse  them  of  rashness 
unequalled,  except  in  the  annals  of  lunacy.  The  wisdom  of  their 
measure  is  on  a  par  with  its  practicability  ;  and  both  are  nonentities.  We 
have  opened  our  ports  to  the  silks,  the  lace,  and  the  gloves  of  France. 
Has  France  given  us  any  thing  in  return  for  this  immense  advantage  ? 
No — she  has  not.  Can  we  compete  with  France  in  these  articles  ?  No 
— experience  has  proved  that  we  cannot.  Our  silk,  lace,  and  glove 
manufacturers  have  been  suffering  and  in  poverty,  whilst  France  is 
enjoying  the  most  profitable  part  of  the  business  in  all  the  three  branches, 
to  the  grievous  loss  of  our  manufacturing  population.  We  have  opened 
our  ports  to  the  corn  of  America.  Has  America  given  us  any  thing  in 
return  ?  No — she  has  laid  an  additional  duty  upon  every  article  of  our 
produce — except  models  of  our  machinery,  by  which  she  hopes  to  profit. 
She  has  diminished  and  almost  shut  out  our  commerce ;  and  the  few 
articles  which  we  still  send  her,  are  in  most  instances  sold  at  a  sacrifice. 

Any  prudent  and  wise  government  would  have  been  anxious — before 
divesting  itself  of  so  many  advantages  as  this  country  enjoyed — to  secure 
at  least  equal  concessions  in  return.  It  would  not  have  left  the  granting 
of  such  concessions  £o  the  mere  generosity,  or — as  that  virtue  has  been 
called — "  the  liberal  policy"  of  other  states.  It  would  not  have  trusted 
even  to  promises  j  or,  at  all  events,  if  such  promises  had  been  made,  it 
would  have  looked  with  the  most  jealous  exactness  to  their  complete 
fulfilment.  On  the  part  of  our  government  this  has  not  been  done ;  and 
we  do  not  see  now  how  it  ever  can  be  done.  It  is  too  late  now  to  make 
a  bargain  ;  for  the  very  articles  we  would  try  to  sell  have  been  already 
given  away  ;  and,  even  if  this  were  not  the  case,  we  have  no  hope  that 
other  nations  will  act  so  absurdly  as  to  grant  concessions,  the  declared 
object  of  which  is  to  inundate  their  provinces  with  British  capital  and 
British  industry,  to  the  detriment,  and  even  the  annihilation  of  their  own 
commerce.  The  boasted  liberality  of  the  new  system  is  too  much 
tinged  with  selfishness,  and  the  expectations  of  advantage  to  ourselves, 
are  too  vast  and  magnificent  to  excite  any  nobler  feeling  than  jealousy 
on  the  part  of  other  states.  They  have  been  so  viewed ;  and  the  tendency 
of  all  continental  legislation  has  been  to  throw  every  obstacle  in  the  way 
of  their  success.  We  appeal  to  all  unprejudiced  observers  for  the  con- 
firmation of  this  fact ;  and  we  appeal  to  all  men  of  reason  if  this  was  not 
the  only  natural  policy  to  be  expected  from  the  prudence  of  foreign 
powers. 

But  we  will  not  attribute  the  failure  of  the  reciprocity  system  solely 
to  the  passive  folly. of  government.  We  will  affirm  that  not  only  have 
measures  of  caution  been  neglected,  but  wilfully  and  madly  thrown  aside, 
for  no  other  end  than  to  consummate  the  ideal  perfection  of  a  theory. 
The  interests  of  individuals  in  this  insane  pursuit  of  ideal  perfection, 
have  been  not  only  disregarded  but  wantonly  sacrificed ;  and  the  future 
welfare,  and  even  the  position  of  Great  Britain  in  the  scale  of  nations 
endangered,  and  already  considerably  lowered. 

We  must  here  beg  the  attention  of  our  readers  to  a  few  plain,  glaring 
statements,  which  will  tend  to  shew  the  almost  superhuman  folly  of 
government  in  its  true  light.  When  the  measures  of  free  trade  were 


1830.]  at  the  Opening  of  the  New  Parliament.  549 

first  brought  forward,  and  advocated  in  Parliament,  it  was  stated  that 
their  object  was  to  give  increased  employment  to  British  machinery  and 
capital.  Notwithstanding  the  heavy  burthens  under  which  we  laboured, 
it  was  asserted  that  we  were  able  to  produce  our  manufactured  goods  at 
less  prices  than  other  nations,  by  the  pre-eminence  of  our  machinery  alone. 
It  was  granted  that  we  could  never  compete  with  the  foreigner  by  mere 
manual  labour,  because  at  that  time  the  price  of  labour  in  this  country 
was  very  high,  and  our  population  were  in  the  possession  of  comfortable 
homes,  and  adequate  subsistence.  Our  superiority  lay  solely  in  our 
skill,  our  industry,  and,  more  than  all,  in  our  machinery.  It  would, 
on  these  grounds,  be  allowed  by  the  most  simple  reasoner  that,  so  long 
as  we  supposed  our  prosperity  to  depend  upon  the  extension  of  our 
foreign  trade,  the  advantages  which  alone  could  make  that  trade 
profitable,  should  be  firmly  and  jealously  preserved.  This  doctrine, 
however  just  and  reasonable  it  may  appear,  did  not  coincide  with  the 
views  of  the  liberal  statesmen  of  the  day.  It  had  been  the  policy  of 
our  fathers  to  prohibit  the  exportation  of  that  machinery  upon  which 
our  superiority  as  manufacturers  depended ;  but  the  new  system  could 
not  brook  such  a  blot  upon  its  perfection.  The  prohibition  was  disan- 
nulled ;  and  we  have  now  been  for  some  years  exporters  of  the  main 
source  of  our  commercial  wealth. 

The  consequences  of  this  policy  it  is  much  easier  to  foresee  than  to 
resist.  We  have  no  hesitation  in  affirming  that  they  are,  in  a  certain 
degree,  irremediable ;  and  that  in  a  few  years  we  shall  feel  them  in  an 
accumulation  of  misery  which  nothing  but  the  elasticity  of  our  com- 
mercial strength  has  hitherto  warded  off.  We  shall  feel  them  in  the 
poverty  of  an  unemployed  and  discontented  population — in  the  diminu- 
tion of  the  public  revenue — in  an  increase  of  the  pressure  of  taxation, 
arising  from  the  decrease  of  ability  to  support  them.  Even  now — I 
appeal  to  any  merchant  conversant  with  foreign  markets — we  are  suffering 
from  the  consquences  of  this  rash  measure.  We  have  now  to  contend 
with  the  untaxed  labour  of  foreign  states,  who  possess  the  raw  material 
at  as  cheap,  or  a  cheaper  rate  than  ourselves — are  aided  by  British 
machinery,  and  protected  by  their  own  legislature.  America  is  manufac- 
turing largely,  and  the  trade  with  her  is  now  in  most  instances  attended 
with  severe  losses.  The  best  markets  throughout  Europe  are  daily 
becoming  better  supplied  with  home  manufactured  goods ;  and,  conse- 
quently, less  profitable  to  the  British  merchant.  Whilst  the  exportation 
of  our  cotton  yarns  is  increasing,  that  of  finished  goods — the  most 
profitable  to  the  country,  because  bearing  the  greatest  amount  of  labour 
— is  decreasing,  or  if  not  yet  much  decreased  in  gross  amount,  most 
certainly  in  profit.  The  total  amount  of  manufactured  cotton  exported 
from  Great  Britain  during  the  last  year  was  1 28,000,000  Ibs.,  and  of  this 
amount  nearly  one  half,  viz.  58  millions,  consisted  of  cotton  yarn  alone. 
The  first  object  of  the  foreigner  is  naturally  to  invest  his  capital  in  such 
machinery  as  will  effect  the  greatest  saving  in  labour,  and  enable  him  to 
produce  his  goods  in  a  state  fit  for  consumption.  This  he  is  now  doing 
— the  power-loom  is  at  work  in  all  parts  of  Germany,  Prussia,  France, 
and  Belgium ;  and,  partially,  in  other  states  not  so  favourable  for  native 
industry.  We  have  seen  many  of  the  goods  which  have  been  thus  brought 
into  competition  with  our  own  in  foreign  markets.  They  are,  of  course — 
as  the  first  essays  of  art  will  naturally  be — rude  and  unskilful ;  but, 
notwithstanding  this,  they  are  such  as  could  not  have  been  produced  a  few 


550  The  Condition  and  Prospects  of  the  Country,  [Nov. 

years  ago,  when  unaided  by  the  advantages  of  our  machinery.  Besides, 
it  is  well  known,  to  merchants  at  least,  that  we  can  only  find  a  sale  in 
foreign  markets  for  the  lowest  qualities  of  our  manufactured  goods ;  and, 
with  the  protection  which  the  foreigner  enjoys,  and  the  greater  cheapness 
of  labour,  we  anticipate  a  time  when  he  will  be  able  to  compete 
successfully  with  our  superior  skill,  from  the  additional  quantity  of 
labour  he  can  command  for  the  same  amount  of  money.  It  is  well 
known  too,  that  the  continental  powers  have  become  aware  of  the 
strength  they  may  in  time  create  by  the  encouragement  of  these  first 
essays  of  manufacturing  industry.  They  are  promoting  the  investment 
of  capital  to  the  utmost  of  their  power,  and  protecting  their  own  infant 
strength  from  rude  contact  with  the  gigantic  power  of  Great  Britain. 
The  manufacture  of  yarns  has  not  yet  been  much  cultivated,  because, 
consisting  almost  entirely  in  the  operation  of  most  expensive  machinery, 
the  British  merchant,  from  his  superior  resources,  and  the  lower  rate  of 
interest  which  he  pays  for  capital,  can  produce  it  at  a  much  cheaper  rate  ; 
but,  as  money  and  attention  become  gradually  turned  into  the  channel 
of  commerce,  we  may  expect  to  be  equally  opposed  in  this  branch  of 
our  manufacture. 

We  have  never  in  the  whole  history  of  legislation  met  with  one  in- 
stance of  self-destructive  policy,  so  complete  and  so  irreparable  in  its 
effects  as  this  measure  of  the  late  parliament.  We  may  retard  its  pro- 
gress by  timely  interference,  but  our  utmost  effort  cannot  avert  its 
ultimate  consequences  :  the  entire  change  it  will  effect  in  the  principles 
of  human  society,  the  happiness  of  which  consists  in  the  dependence  of 
one  class  of  the  people  upon  the  interests  and  exertions  of  another.  We 
have  entered  upon  an  awful  struggle  with  the  world,  and  with  our  own 
population.  This  contest  will  be  in  machinery,  the  powers  of  which  we 
must  increase  as  the  only  means  of  regaining  the  advantages  we  have 
madly  thrown  away.  We  must  reduce  man — the  lord  of  the  creation 
and  the  image  of  his  Maker — to  the  mere  puppet  of  a  machine,  in  com- 
parison of  which  he  feels — as  Lord  F.  L.  Gower  confessed  at  Manchester 
— te  that  he  is  an  inferior  being,"  a  useless  member  of  society.  And  he 
will  be  useless  !  He  may  live  like  the  beast  of  the  field,  and  must  be 
fed  by  Nature  and  his  God ;  for  his  fellow  men  will  only  support  his 
wants  so  long  as  they  need  his  toil.  We  may  grind  down  the  wages  of 
our  Operatives  till  they  become  the  mere  shadows  of  human  beings — 
we  may  decrease  our  profits — our  expences  and  our  taxes ;  and  when 
we  have  ruined  every  branch  of  industry — pauperised  our  agricultural 
population — defrauded  the  public  creditor  (for  to  this  it  must  eventually 
tend)  ;  we  shall  find  that  we  have  pursued  a  baseless  scheme  of  aggran- 
dizement which  has  melted  in  our  very  grasp.  The  foreigner  must  and 
ought  to  protect  the  interests  of  his  own  population.  He  must  employ 
his  own  mechanics  and  his  own  capital,  in  preference  to  that  of  another 
nation,  and  he  will  do  it. 

But  it  is  needless  to  pursue  any  other  course,  in  shewing  the  utter 
worthlessness  of  the  whole  system,  than  the  bare  enunciation  of  facts. 
We  have  now  had  sufficient  time  and  ample  opportunities  to  view  its 
operation,  in  detail,  through  its  various  channels,  and  generally  as  a 
whole.  We  have  been  long  enough  deluded  by  the  nattering  picture 
of  its  advocates,  and  looked  forward  with  enthusiasm  to  the  coming  of  its 
attendant  blessings.  Where  shall  we  find  them  ?  Is  one  great  branch 
of  the  community  prosperous  ?  Not  one — we  affirm  it  in  the  face  of  the 


1830.]  at  the  Opening  of  the  New  Parliament.  551 

whole  world — not  one  !  The  land-owner,  the  farmer,  the  lead-owner, 
the  shop-keeper,  the  mechanic,  the  weaver,  the  lace-trade,  the  glove 
trade,  the  silk  trade — these  compose  the  far  greater  proportion  of  the 
people  of  England,  and  these  are  all  in  a  state  of  suffering  and  pro- 
gressive decay.  The  great  body  of  the  manufacturers  for  whose  sole 
aggrandizement  all  these  have  been  sacrificed,  have  themselves  been, 
and  are  still,  suffering.  Yet  the  measures  by  which  this  mass  of  evil 
has  been  produced,  are  said,  to  "  work  well  \"  Our  military  premier 
has  declared,  in  his  usual  dictatorial  manner,  that  they  will  not  be 
interfered  with ;  and  has  assured  us  that  our  distress  is  not  in 
any  degree  owing  to  their  operation.  He  has  further  even  condes- 
cended to  inform  us  of  the  nature  of  the  actual  bugbear,  which  has 
frighted  away  our  prosperity.  What  will  our  readers  suppose  this 
mysterious  thing  to  be  ?  "  An  earthquake  ?" — no — "  a  plague  of  rats, 
and  locusts,  as  in  the  days  of  Pharaoh  ?"  Not  precisely.  His  grace, 
after  a  world  of  study,  has  discovered  that  all  this  overwhelming 
distress  is  owing  to — "  the  deficiency  of  the  late  harvest !"  Alas ! 
poor  England !  Well  might  Lord  Wilton  lament  that  the  stream 
of  opinion  had  turned  against  the  Aristocracy.  But  need  he  wonder  ? 
When  one  of  the  proudest  names  in  English  history  is  degraded  by  the 
imputation  of  such  miserable  drivelling  as  would  infallibly  sink  any 
other  man  to  the  level  of  a  fool,  we  may  well  inquire,  need  he  wonder  ? 
We  do  not  mean  to  depreciate  his  grace's  understanding  or  his  judg- 
ment ;  but  we  affirm  that  they  are  eclipsed,  they  are  blinded  by  one 
all-absorbing  passion — not  ambition,  (for  "  by  that  sin  fell  the  angels/') 
but  a  meaner  passion,  4f  a  thing  without  a  name." 

We  shall  leave  this  pitiable  absurdity  to  the  contempt  it  so  justly 
merits,  and  proceed  to  a  more  solemn  and  serious  view  of  the  question, 
viz.  the  operation  of  our  present  policy  upon  the  morals  and  social 
interests  of  the  nation.  We  see,  at  the  present  crisis,  Revolution  mark- 
ing his  track  in  blood  amongst  the  nations  of  Europe  ;  we  see  Republi- 
canism scowling  hatred  upon  the  throne  and  the  altar,  trampling  upon 
the  fixed  ordinances  of  society,  and  waiting  but  for  a  pretext  to  sweep 
away  all  distinctions  but  those  of  brute  strength  and  lawless  daring. 
Are  the  present  measures  of  government  those  which  are  best  calculated 
to  drive  away  the  evil  from  our  shores,  or  are  the  people  placed  in  the 
best  condition  to  profit  by  such  changes  as  may  be  occasioned  by  the 
course  of  events  ?  This  inquiry  is  one  of  most  urgent  moment,  in  the 
consideration  of  which  the  prejudices  of  all  men  ought  to  be  laid  aside. 
We  have  viewed  it  anxiously  and  earnestly  ;  and  in  placing  our  opinion 
upon  record,  we  are  aware  of  the  solemn  weight  of  responsibility  which 
we  incur.  It  will  be  necessary  to  press  upon  the  attention  of  our  reader 
a  few  more  facts,  to  enable  him  to  estimate  the  justice  of  our  views,  and 
in  doing  this,  we  shall  be  as  concise  as  possible. 

It  has  alwrays  been  considered  a  sound  axiom  in  politics,  that  the  real 
strength  of  a  state  depends  upon  the  internal  comfort  and  happiness  of 
the  people.  So  far  as  the  increase  of  wealth  conduces  to  the  promotion 
of  this  end,  it  is  desirable,  and  so  far  the  increase  of  wealth  in  a  state  is 
also  the  increase  of  its  strength.  Allowing  these  premises,  and  we  do 
not  see  how  they  can  be  disputed,  it  is  evident  that  the  aim  of  all  legis- 
lation ought  to  be,  to  direct  the  channels  of  wealth,  not  into  the  hands 
of  a  few  individuals  or  classes,  but  to  spread  them  over  the  whole  face 
of  the  community.  A  country  may  accumulate  capital ;  but  unless  that 


552  The  Condition  and  Prospects  of  the  Country,  £Nov. 

capital  be  diffused,  unless  the  blessings  which  it  brings  fall  equally — 
like  the  showers  of  Heaven,  fertilizing  the  poor  man's  garden,  and  the 
rich  man's  lawn — we  affirm  that  such  capital  is  not  a  source  of  strength. 
Such  a  country  may  wear  the  appearance  of  prosperity.  Its  mansions, 
its  public  works,  its  expenditure  may  satisfy  the  casual  observer,  or 
afford  a  demonstration  for  the  shallow  talker,  and  the  interested  sophist  ; 
but  so  long  as  the  cry  of  poverty  is  heard  from  the  low  thatch  of  its 
peasantry,  or  the  gaunt  form  of  hunger  is  seen  at  nightfall,  stealing  past 
the  doors  of  splendour  to  bury  alike  the  sense  of  pain  and  shame  in 
the  dark  haunts  of  debauchery  and  crime, — so  long  as  industry  is  un- 
attended with  comfort  and  virtue  unrewarded,  such  a  country  is  weak, 
and  its  wealth  a  curse  and  not  a  blessing. 

The  avowed  object  of  the  legislature  in  its  late  measures  has  been  to 
increase  the  aggregate  wealth  of  the  country.  We  have  already  stated 
our  reasons  for  doubting  that  these  measures  are  calculated  to  ensure 
such  a  result.  We  affirm  that  they  are  not.  Their  tendency  is  not  to 
increase  the  aggregate  amount  of  capital  in  the  country,  but  only  to 
change  its  direction,  and  to  concentrate  its  many  channels  into  one 
absorbing  stream.  It  has  been  argued  that  an  extensive  export  trade  is 
of  great  advantage  to  a  country,  and  to  this  country  in  particular.  We 
allow  this ;  but  we  think  the  application  of  this  truth,  like  that  of  all 
others,  which  suited  their  object,  has  by  the  economists  been  carried  too 
far.  We  have  already  viewed  the  immense  sacrifices  which  have  been 
made  in  its  favour,  and  we  think  unjustly  as  well  as  unwisely.  The 
effect  of  these  sacrifices  has  been,  by  destroying  the  comforts  of  our 
agricultural  population,  to  lessen  and  almost  annihilate  the  home  trade ; 
and  thus  to  rest  the  entire  resources  of  our  manufacturers  upon  the 
consumption  of  foreign  markets.  So  long  as  we  can  monopolize  these, 
by  the  cheapness  of  our  goods,  or  the  strength  of  our  capital,  the  manu- 
facturing interest  will,  to  a  certain  extent,  enjoy  prosperity  ;  but,  to 
estimate  the  degree  of  that  prosperity,  and  the  individuals  in  whom  it 
will  concentrate,  we  must  examine  its  sources  and  the  channels  through 
which  it  flows. 

We  have  hitherto  been  accustomed  in  our  home  markets  to  dispose  of 
our  most  profitable  and  most  valuable  manufactures.  This  market  has 
been  alike  the  instrument  of  a  safe  and  profitable  experience,  a  school 
for  the  first  essays  of  our  ingenuity,  and  the  reward  of  their  completion. 
The  production  of  any  new  and  important  branch  of  manufacture,  has 
invariably  been  tested  in  our  home  market.  There  it  has  progressed 
through  its  different  stages  of  comparative  perfection  ;  by  the  successful 
application  of  new  processes,  it  has  been  cheapened  in  production  or 
lessened  in  value ;  and  it  has  only  been  where  the  greatest  comparative 
cheapness  or  perfection  has  been  attained,  that  is  has  become  a  profitable 
article  in  our  export  trade.  Under  these  circumstances  the  possession  of 
a  home  trade  was  invaluable  to  our  manufacturers.  It  consumed  the 
most  profitable  goods,  it  gave  the  quickest  and  most  certain  returns,  and 
was  thus  indispensable  to  men  of  small  capital,  who  could  not  pursue 
with  advantage  the  more  expensive  speculations  of  the  foreign  merchant. 
To  the  labourer  it  was  also  of  advantage,  as  it  employed  comparatively 
a  greater  proportion  of  skill,  and  afforded  the  most  liberal  wages.  The 
foreign  market  was  thus  left  almost  exclusively  to  men  of  large  capital, 
who  could  sustain  its  uncertainties  and  its  frequent  reverses.  By  such  men 
it  was  engrossed,  and  by  them  alone  it  could  be  made  a  source  of  profit. 


1830.]  at  the  Opening  of  the  New  Parliament.  553 

We  think  a  view  of  the  present  state  of  our  export  trade  will  justify 
these  remarks.  By  the  gradual  extinction  of  our  home  trade,  all  classes 
of  merchants  have  been  driven  into  foreign  markets,  and  the  result  has 
been  a  series  of  most  disastrous  losses.  Without  a  knowledge  of  the 
capabilities  of  these  markets,  and  led  away  by  vague  calculations  of 
profits  to  be  gained  and  production  to  be  extended,  men  of  small  capital 
were  induced  to  embark  in  speculations  which  have  terminated  in  bank- 
ruptcy and  ruin  to  themselves,  and  in  the  most  serious  detriment  to 
those  who  had  hitherto  advantageously  prosecuted  such  business.  The 
foreign  markets  have  been  for  the  last  few  years  overstocked,  and  glutted 
with  all  descriptions  of  British  produce.  The  legitimate  trader  has 
been  every  where  jostled  and  injured  by  the  needy  adventurer.  Prices 
have  been  wantonly  sacrificed ;  and  the  foreign  merchant  ha.s  been 
compelled  to  seek  protection  in  petty  and  aggravating  restriction,  in 
some  cases  in  virtual  prohibition,  from  the  recklessness  or  the  frauds  of 
British  merchants.  Thus  the  result  of  the  loss  of  our  Home  Trade  has 
been  ruinous  to  at  least  one  class  of  our  merchants  : — viz.  those  whose 
deficiency  of  capital  disables  them  from  profitable  operations  in  foreign 
markets.  This  class  has  been  for  the  last  few  years  progressively 
falling  in  the  scale  of  comfort  j  and  in  a  few  years  more  will  be  almost 
completely  merged  in  the  mass  of  the  people. 

The  effect  of  our  system  upon  the  working  classes,  has  been  to  reduce 
wages  to  an  extent  which  a  few  years  ago  would  have  been  considered 
impracticable  and  wicked.  It  would  not  have  been  considered  possi- 
ble that  any  human  being  could  exist  upon  the  pittance  at  present  doled 
out  to  our  manufacturing  and  agricultural  poor  ;  and  yet  we  affirm  that 
our  export  trade  depends  solely  for  profit  upon  this  sacrifice  of  the 
comfort  of  the  people.  We  can  only  depend  upon  the  foreign  market 
for  the  consumption  of  our  goods,  so  long  as  we  starve  our  manufacturing 
population.  This  assertion  must  be  startling  to  men  of  proper  feeling, 
but  it  is  nevertheless  strictly  and  entirely  true.  Our  profits  as  exporters 
depend  solely  upon  the  cheapness  of  our  article,  and  we  can  only  pro- 
cure such  cheapness  by  means  under  our  own  control.  We  cannot 
lessen  the  cost  of  the  raw  material,  and  if  we  could,  it  would  not  avail 
us  anything.  We  can  only  lessen  the  cost  of  that  part  of  the  article 
which  is  our  own  production  : — viz.  labour  and  skill.  We  can  only 
grind  down  wages  and  lessen  the  reward  of  ingenuity.  When  this  is 
effected — when  our  workmen  are  reduced  to  the  level  of  slaves  (and 
we  cannot  see  how  they  can  endure  greater  poverty  and  greater 
wretchedness  than  they  have  done,  and  are  even  now  doing),  we  must 
lessen  our  expenses  and  the  comfort  of  our  fire-sides :  we  have  already 
done  all  this,  and  it  is  not  enough.  We  hear  of  the  misery  of  West 
India  Slavery,  and  yet  we  are  pursuing  measures  which  have  reduced 
our  once  flourishing  population  to  a  condition  infinitely  worse  than 
slaves.  We  appeal  to  that  wild  talker,  Henry  Brougham,  if  it  is  com- 
mon for  slaves  to  die  of  hunger  and  nakedness  ;  and  what  privileges  does 
a  poor  English  weaver  enjoy  which  slaves  do  not  ?  "  The  freedom  of 
the  mind,"  we  think  we  hear  him  say.  This  is  true.  Our  famished 
countryman  can  look  upon  the  laws  which  degrade  him  below  the  level 
of  humanity,  and  execrate  that  management  which  has  made  his  mind 
the  slave  of  a  craving  body  -  -  which  has  placed  him — a  starving  human 

mg — in  the  midst  of  a  free  country.     The  freedom  of  the  mind  !    Can 

M.  M.  New  Serie9.—VoL.  X.  No.  59.  4  A 


554  The  Condition  and  Prospects  of  the  Country,  [Nov. 

that  freedom  procure  him  one  degree  of  bodily  comfort  ?  Can  it  raise 
him  above  want  ?  Can  it  save  him  from  despair  ?  No — no  !  He  cannot 
raise  himself  one  step  above  his  present  degraded  condition.  He  cannot 
stop  his  ears  against  the  cries  of  his  famished  children.  He  knows  that 
his  almost  unnatural  exertions  cannot  earn  them  more  than  bare  exist- 
ence ;  he  feels  that  he  is  a  slave  ;  and  he  envies  the  condition  of  those 
who  are  fed  and  clothed  in  their  bondage.  Has  Mr.  Brougham  ever 
penetrated  into  the  miserable  dwellings  of  our  manufacturing  popula- 
tion? If  he  has  not  we  urge,  not  only  him,  but  all  the  mock  philanthro- 
pists of  charlatannerie,  to  contemplate  the  condition — the  life — the  food 
— the  clothing  of  one  half-dozen  families  amongst  their  poor.  Let  them 
survey  the  populous  county  of  Lancashire,  or  the  manufacturing  dis- 
tricts of  the  West-Riding  of  Yorkshire.  Let  them  there  contemplate 
the  spectacle  of  mingled  guilt  and  misery — the  crowded  hovel — the 
emaciated  form — the  debased  mind ;  and  then  let  such  men  think,  if 
they  ever  do  think,  of  the  consequences  of  that  miserably  perverted 
intellect,  which  grasps  at  fictitious  charity,  and  overlooks  the  crying 
necessities  of  famine  and  guilt  in  its  own  sphere. 

Such  is  the  true  working  of  that  system  before  whose  perfections  the 
wise  policy  of  our  fathers  was  esteemed  foolishness.  We  offer  this  dark 
and  appalling  picture  of  human  madness  and  ignorance — and  we  have 
not  overcharged  one  feature — to  the  calm  consideration  of  our  reader, 
and  let  him  say  whether  such  a  state  of  society  be  safe  or  advisable, 
and  whether  the  wealth  thus  wrung  out  of  the  blood  and  sinews  of  the 
people,  be  a  source  of  strength  or  weakness.  No  man  who  is  not  blind 
to  the  habitual  crime  and  progressive  demoralization  of  the  lower 
classes,  will  for  a  moment  deny  that  some  fundamental  principle  of 
legislation  is  overlooked  or  wantonly  disregarded ;  and  if  he  trace  this 
progressive  deterioration  of  morals  to  its  source,  he  will  find  it  in  the 
principle  which  regards  man's  labour  as  a  mere  commodity,  and  legislates 
for  its  cheapness.  Virtually,  the  system  of  free  trade  does  this.  It  does 
not  regard  the  comforts  of  the  people,  but  their  productive  power — the 
greatest  amount  of  labour  for  the  least  cost.  The  invention  of  a  man 
who  can  work  without  sleep,  or  food,  or  clothing — and  pay  taxes 
withal — is  its  great  desideratum.  The  foreigner  is  advancing  rapidly  in 
the  same  insane  pursuit  of  cheap  labour,  and  we  have  bound  ourselves 
not  to  be  outstripped  in  the  race. 

In  this  crisis  the  country  looks  anxiously  to  the  new  parliament,  and 
no  man  can  avoid  noticing  the  peculiar  feeling  which  is  prevalent.  It 
is  neither  ardent  hope,  nor  strong  fear,  nor  bitter  indignation ;  but  a 
half  indifferent,  half  contemptuous  curiosity.  Nothing  can  be  more 
evident  than  the  fact  that  not  only  the  ministry,  but  the  entire  legis- 
lature —  the  two  Houses  —  no  longer  lead  the  public  opinion,  but 
slavishly  follow  the  cries  of  madmen  and  the  measures  of  fools.  The 
disaffected—  the  innovators — the  base  of  all  parties — look  upon  them 
as  the  weak  tools  who  are  to  be  bullied  out  of  an  opinion  by  cla- 
mour out  of  doors,  or  tempted  by  interest  within  ;  and  upon  no  class — 
upon  no  party — has  the  example  of  the  last  two  sessions  been  lost. 
Honest  men  can  now  look  with  confidence  to  one  source  alone — to  a 
King,  who  will  never  betray  the  hopes  of  his  people,  nor  ever  mock 
their  miseries.  We  are  sorry  to  trace  the  growth  of  such  a  state  of  pub- 
lic opinion :  but  its  existence  is  indisputable ;  and  when  we  view  the 


1830.]  at  the  Opening  of  the  New  Parliament.  555 

public  conduct — the  reckless  profligacy — the  glaring,  open  contempt  of 
all  decency  and  principle  exhibited  by  the  late  parliament,  we  cannot 
for  a  moment  wonder  at  its  continuance.  As  for  the  present  ministry, 
we  can  only  ask — what  will  the  poor  creatures  do  next? 

Gentle  reader,  do  not  smile  at  this  question.  We  know  it  is  unan- 
swerable. It  cannot  be  solved  by  any  principle  of  human  action,  being 
solely  dependent  upon  contingencies.  Sir  Robert  Blifil  will  look  which 
way  the  wind  blows,  place  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  assure  the 
world  with  a  benignant  smile  that  his  opinion  is  entirely  changed.  The 
commanding  officer  will  tell  us  we  are  all  very  well  off — as  well  as  we 
deserve — and  assert,  with  his  usual  correctness,  that  the  deficiency  in  the 
revenue  is  occasioned  by  the  long  summer  days,  and  the  consequent 
decrease  of  consumption  in  the  article  of  candles — that  he  is  indefati- 
gable in  his  endeavours  for  retrenchment — that  he  has  discovered  an 
error  of  2s.  2d.  in  the  computation  of  his  quarter's  salary,  which  he  will 
magnanimously  refund — finally,  that  he  had  nothing  in  the  world  to  do 
with  the  Polignac  affair,  exceptis  excepiendis,  which,  being  interpreted, 
means,  as  much  as  the  gullibility  of  the  public  will  swallow.  As  for 
what  the  rank-and-file-men — "  Apollar  and  the  rest" — will  do  or  say, 
the  world  and  ourselves  care  very  little.  Something,  however,  must  be 
done — effectually  and  soon.  The  people  are  wretched — the  revenue  is 
declining — disaffection  is  abroad  amongst  the  lower  classes — and  revo- 
lution is  overturning  the  whole  system  of  European  society.  We  may 
have  to  go  to  war. 

In  the  present  state  of  the  country,  such  a  step  must  be  attended  with 
the  most  imminent  danger.  We  cannot  go  to  war !  Europe  knows 
this,  and  has  known  it  long.  The  pettiest  confederacy  can  defy  us. 
The  meanest  state  in  Europe  can  mock  us,  and  has  mocked  us,  with 
impunity.  Our  commerce  depends  upon  the  continuance  of  peace,  and 
the  slightest  derangement  of  our  continental  relations  will  plunge  our 
manufacturing  interest  into  irretrievable  difficulties.  We  shall  be  ha- 
rassed at  home  with  an  unemployed  population — we  shall  be  crippled 
with  a  deficient  navy — we  have  no  flourishing  agriculturists  to  support 
the  burthen  of  increased  taxation — we  have  no  home  trade  to  supply 
the  temporary  decrease  of  our  foreign  demand.  We  have  rested  the 
whole  weight  of  our  resources  upon  the  security  of  our  external  rela- 
tions, and  our  whole  capital  is  invested  in  foreign  markets.  What  then 
will  be  the  result — what  must  be  the  result  of  a  continental  war  ?  Sud- 
den stagnation  of  commerce,  and  perhaps  a  convulsion. 


4  A  2 


[    556    ]  [Nov. 

THE    ILLUSTRIOUS    OBSCURE.       N°.    I. THE    MODERN    TANTALUS; 

OR,    THE    DEMON    OF    DRURY-LANE. 

"  There  are  more  things  in  Prury-lane,  Sir  Walter,  than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  Demonology.1' 

COURTEOUS  READER, — Has  it— pardon,  we  pray  thee,  the  abruptness 
of  the  query — has  it  ever  been  your  fate  to  visit  what  is  called  the  pri- 
vilege-office of  Drury-lane  theatre  ?  We  do  not  ask  if  you  are  a  renter, 
or  a  translator  of  two-act  atrocities ;  but  have  you  ever,  by  any  chance, 
found  yourself  in  the  box-lobby  of  that  temple  of  Melpomene,  music, 
and  melo-drama,  without  having  performed  the  customary  ceremony  of 
depositing  seven  shillings~at  the  doors  ?  If  such  has  been  your  lot,  you 
must  inevitably  have  encountered  a  quiet,  broad,  short,  shrewd-looking, 
elderly  gentleman  ;  who,  sitting  in  a  nook  that  fits  him  like  a  great-coat, 
with  his  hat  drawn  a  little  over  his  eyes,  to  shade  them  from  the  glare  of 
the  lamp  beside  him:  has  received  your  credentials,  or  presented  a  book 
for  your  lawful  signature.  You  may  possibly  have  observed  the  calm, 
scrutinizing  air  with  which  he  has  surveyed  your  free-admission  ticket, 
or  the  inquisitive  glance  which  he  has  directed  to  the  flourish  that  accom- 
panies your  autograph.  If  you  are  an  author,  you  must  have  seen  him 
put  a  mark  of  honour  opposite  your  name,  to  distinguish  you  from  the 
rest  of  his  visitors.  (Our  friend  has  a  taste  for  literature,  and  he  thus 
evinces  it  most  delicately  in  conferring  distinctions  upon  its  professors). 
But  you  are  little  aware,  probably,  that  there  is  a  circumstance  connected 
with  the  history  of  that  individual,  which  is  entitled  to  a  place  in  a  more 
imperishable  register  than  the  short  memories  of  the  few  to  whom  the 
fact  may  be  familiar. 

We  are  convinced  that  men  may  pick  up,  in  a  morning's  walk,  a  good 
many  village  Quixotes  and  mute  inglorious  Sanchos,  simply  by  adhering 
to  an  old  practice  which  half  the  world  seems  to  have  abandoned — that 
of  having  their  eyes  open.  To  be  sure  we  had  paid  several  visits  to  the 
subject  of  this  sketch  before  we  discovered  anything  that  particularly 
distinguished  him  from  the  rest  of  his  fraternity — or  it  might  with  jus- 
tice have  been  said,  of  his  countrymen — nay,  of  mankind.  But  at  last, 
when  he  became  sufficiently  acquainted  with  our  visage  to  recognize  it 
at  a  glance,  the  fixed,  placid,  sculptured  sort  of  smile  which  invariably 
tempers  the  business-like  serenity  of  his  features,  began  to  relax  into 
something  cordial  and  communicative.  He  greeted  us  with  a  good  even- 
ing, and  entered  gradually  upon  a  gossip.  It  turned  naturally  enough 
upon  theatres  and  their  affairs — and  here  it  was  that  we  first  felt  startled 
by  the  extraordinary  stock  of  knowledge  displayed  by  our  new  acquain- 
tance. He  did  not  attempt  to  immolate  us  on  the  altar  of  antiquity  ;  he 
did  not,  like  other  elderly  people,  regale  us  with  a  reminiscence  of  Gar- 
rick,  first  printed  in  the  old  "  Town  and  Country  Magazine/'  or  illumine 
us  with  a  learned  treatise  on  John  Palmer's  shoe-buckles.  We  were 
neither  initiated  into  the*  mysteries  of  Pritchard's  hoop,  nor  elevated  by 
an  apostrophe  to  Jordan's  gipsey-hat  and  red  ribands.  Her  very  eye- 
brow, as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  was  hidden  in  oblivion ;  and  her  ankle 
was  permitted  to  rest  quietly  in  its  grave.  No,  he  astonished  us  by  the 
novelty,  the  newness  of  his  information.  The  events  he  communicated 
had  just  transpired ;  the  account  of  them  had  not  yet  gone  to  press. 
His  notes  were  all  in  manuscript,  and  the  ink  was  scarcely  dry.  But  it 
was  this  particular  fact  that  made  the  marvel : — he  mentioned  circum- 


1830.]        The  Modern  Tantalus  ;  or,  the  Demon  of  Drury-lanc.         557 

stances  that  must  have  happened,  precisely  at  the  same  moment,  in  dif- 
ferent places — and  all  within  a  few  minutes  after  they  had  occurred. 
Here  was  the  source  of  our  wonder.  His  rumours  were  all  just  born, 
fresh  from  the  nursery  of  time —  tender,  delicate  revelations,  almost  too 
vapoury,  too  ethereal  to  handle.  You  had  his  intelligence  with  the  gloss 
upon  it ;  although  much  of  it  must  have  travelled  some  distance.  He 
seemed  like  the  centre,  not  of  gravity,  but  of  society ;  and  the  news 
naturally  fell  towards  him  from  all  points.  There  he  sate  in  his  snug 
small  box,  like  an  encyclopaedia  with  a  hat  on — or  rather  it  was  as 
though  a  newspaper  had  been  compressed  into  a  nut-shell.  His  ears 
could  never  have  been  the  medium  through  which  those  multifarious 
reports  had  reached  him—  there  was  not  time  for  them  to  travel  in  the 
ordinary  way.  Besides,  how  could  he  have  emissaries  in  every  part  of 
the  metropolis  to  bring  him  the  news  every  five  minutes  ?  It  was  impos- 
sible. Even  if  notes  had  been  taken  in  some  sublimated  system  of  short- 
hand, they  would  have  been  of  no  use  unless  they  had  been  conveyed 
by  a  telegraph.  There  must  be  some  piece  of  machinery  at  work  that 
Watt  never  dreamed  of;  steam  is  certainly  at  the  bottom  of  it.  There 
is  some  "  gathering  of  the  clans"  of  communication — some  mental 
"  meeting  of  the  waters,"  the  secret  of  which  is  confined  to  one  indivi- 
dual. It  is  clear  that  he  knows  what  is  passing  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
town,  the  very  instant  it  happens,  with  more  certainty  than  either  of  the 
Siamese  twins  can  guess  what  the  other  is  thinking  about.  He  should 
certainly  be  published  with  the  Gazette.  He  would  prove  of  incalcu- 
lable use  at  elections,  as  he  would  know  the  state  of  the  poll  all  over  the 
kingdom.  The  country  ought  to  purchase  him.  That  pernicious  system 
of  economy  is  the  vice  of  every  ministry,  and  is  fast  bringing  the  king- 
dom to  destruction. 

It  was  only  by  degrees  that  our  friend's  astonishing  faculty,  or  inspi- 
ration, or  whatsoever  philosophy  may  decide  upon  calling  it,  was  deve- 
loped. He  seemed  anxious  not  to  stun  us,  and  fired  off  his  succes- 
sive reports,  as  if  from  an  air-gun.  He  sprinkled  us  very  gently  at 
first,  to  prepare  us  for  the  torrent  that  was  to  come.  This  may  be  a 
specimen,  perhaps,  of  his  beginning  —  a  dim,  faded  sample  of  his 
many- coloured  address  —  "  Good  house  to-night,  Sir  — •  very  good 
house,  indeed ;  beautiful  pit,  full  first  price.  Garden  very  indifferent 
(Heaven  has  been  very  good  to  us !)  ;  only  seventy  pounds  in  the 
pit,  and  not  more  than  half  that  in  the  gallery  j  boxes  far  from  bril- 
liant. Droll  circumstance  occurred  just  now  in  the  '  Critic ;'  both 
morning-guns  missed  fire,  and  Farley  was  obliged  to  imitate  them  as 
well  as  he  could  from  the  wing — and  the  best  of  the  joke  is,  that  the 
audience  never  found  out  the  difference.  Capital  house  at  the  Adelphi. 
Surrey  doing  very  well  to-night.  Rather  flat  at  Tottenham- street.  Du- 
crow  slipped,  and  his  neck  narrowly  escaped  dislocation  :  no  man  should 
ride  more  than  a  dozen  horses  at  one  time."  All  this,  and  much  more 
to  the  same  effect — although  it  was  early  in  the  evening  to  have  derived 
information  from  such  various  quarters— did  not  excite  our  especial  sur- 
prise. We  conjectured  that  he  had  heard  it  accidentally,  and  in  the 
way  of  business.  But  on  succeeding  evenings,  when  he  entered  into 
detail,  and  described  matters  more  minutely — when  he  repeated  the 
grand  joke,  the  lion  of  the  new  farce,  at  one  house,  and  hummed  part  of 
a  chorus  in  the  new  opera  at  another ;  when  he  told  us  what  airs  Miss 
Paton  had  introduced — how  Fanny  Kemble  had  shrieked,  and  how 


558  The  Modern  Tantalus;  or,  [Nov. 

Fanny  Kelly  had  started ;  —  when  he  described  Mr.  Mathews  and 
Madame  Malibran  at  the  same  moment;  when  he  mentioned  what 
pieces  had  been  substituted,  what  actors  had  flourished  their  sticks 
in  the  box-lobbies,  and  who  had  been  suddenly  and  seriously  indis- 
posed ; — we  confess  that  we  did  stare  at  him  for  a  minute  or  two  with 
unfeigned  astonishment  and  admiration.  But  afterwards,  when  we  came 
to  muse  upon  the  matter,  and  reflected  that  the  events  of  his  narrative 
had  happened  in  various  places,  and  all  within  a  very  moderate  number 
of  minutes ;  and  then,  when  we  considered  how  unlikely  it  was  that  he 
should  have  quitted  the  box  in  which  he  sat,  and  that  the  tidings  could  not 
have  travelled  to  him  by  chance — our  surprise  became  more  profound ; 
it  deepened  into  a  sensation  of  awe.  How  was  it  possible  that  he 
should  see  and  hear  what  was  beyond  human  sight  and  hearing  ?  What 
sympathy  could  there  be  between  the  privilege-office  at  Drury-lane,  and 
a  pirouette  just  perpetrated  at  the  Opera  ?  What  on  earth  had  all  Lon- 
don to  do  with  that  lobby  ?  We  could  think  of  but  ONE  way  in  which 
the  intelligence  could  have  been  obtained.  We  admit  that  it  was  super- 
stitious ;  but  we  really  felt  that  there  was  a  fearful  agency  at  work — that 
the  mysterious  individual  before  us  was  a  dabbler  in  some  dreadful  art — 
that  he  had  learned  an  enviable  yet  an  awful  secret — that  he  possessed 
some  inconceivable  glass,  some  sub-terrestrial  telescope,  by  which  the 
interior  of  every  theatre  in  the  metropolis  was  open  to  his  view.  We 
felt  that  his  very  spectacles  would  be  an  invaluable  legacy.  Our  imagi- 
nation, as  we  looked  at  him,  converted  him  into  another  Asmodean 
sprite,  and  we  fancied  the  box  from  whence  he  surveyed  the  whole  dra- 
matic world,  to  be  only  a  Brobdignagian  bottle ;  we  had  little  doubt  but 
that  his  two  sticks  were  concealed  inside  of  it.  The  lower  part  of  his 
person  was  enveloped  in  impenetrable  doubt ; — there  was  nothing  visible 
but  his  bust. 

As  we  were  really  anxious  to  unravel  the  mystery,  we  visited  him 
again  a  few  nights  afterwards.  It  was  precisely  the  same — every  thea- 
trical incident  of  the  evening  was  promulgated.  He  repeated  to  us  an 
apology — as  we  found  by  the  papers  the  next  morning — verbatim,  and 
within  five  minutes  after  it  was  delivered.  We  tried  him  on  past  per- 
sonages and  events,  and  mentioned  Mrs.  Siddons.  "  A  wonder  of  a 
woman,  Sir  ! — Ah  !  you  recollect  only  her  late  achievements — now,  I 
never  saw  any  but  her  first.  Her  brother  John  too  — grand  even  in  his 
decline,  majestic  in  ruins.  Why,  his  very  last  performance — his  genius 
glimmering  through  his  infirmities — had  all  the  sublimity  of  an  eclipse. 
It  was  a  fine  sight !"  We  lamented  that  we  had  not  heard  that  great 
actor's  farewell,  when  to  our  infinite  surprise  he  expressed  a  similar 
regret.  "  Why/'  said  we,  ((  from  the  opinions  you  have  given,  it  would 
seem  that  you  had  been  there." — "  No,  Sir,  no — I  never  saw  Kemble 
since  he  was  a  young  man.'7  At  this  we  possibly  betrayed  some  incre- 
dulity, for  he  repeated  his  assertion.  "  Never,  since  he  was  a  young 
man.  It  was  just  the  dawn  of  his  great  day  when  I  last  saw  him.  And 
as  for  his  brother  Charles — an  accomplished  actor,  Sir — I  haven't  seen 
his  brother  Charles  since  he  came  of  age."  Here  we  could  not  forbear 
looking  our  unbelief:  it  was  difficult  to  understand  how  anybody  could 
exist  almost  within  the  walls  of  a  theatre,  and  not  have  seen  Charles 
Kemble  act  after  his  arrival  at  years  of  discretion  (honestly  and  earnestly 
do  we  hope  that  he  has  not  survived  them  !).  But  our  enigmatical 
acquaintance  proceeded.  "And  then  there's  Kean,  Sir;  he  possesses 


1 830.]  The  Demon  of  Drury-lane.  559 

great  energy  still — yes,  it  is  the  true  light,  although  it  may  not  burn  so  • 
brilliantly  as  it  did  once."  I  inquired  if  he  had  seen  all  that  actor's 
early  performances.  "  No/'  he  observed,  very  calmly,  and  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  is  perfectly  innocent  of  a  jest  j  "  no,  /  never  saw  Kean 
act  in  my  life  !"  Let  the  reader  imagine  a  reply  to  this  declaration. 
"  You  don't  say  so  !"  died  on  our  tongue ;  not  a  single  "  indeed !" 
escaped  from  our  lips.  This  was  no  case  for  starts  and  exclamations ; 
our  emotions  were  too  deep  for  interjections.  It  was  not  until  he  had 
reiterated  the  assertion,  in  very  positive  terms,  that  we  felt  quite  con- 
vinced he  was  in  earnest.  We  then  summoned  up  all  the  emphasis  in 
our  power.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  have  attended  this  theatre  every 
night  for  so  many  years,  and  have  you  really  never  seen  Kean?" — 
"  Never  in  my  life,"  replied  our  eccentric  friend  ;  "  in  fact,  I  HAVE 

NOT  SEEN  A  PLAY  OR  A  FARCE  FOR  THESE  FORTY  YEARS  !" 

If  a  physician  had  told  us  that  he  had  not  prescribed  for  himself  for 
the  period  mentioned  ;  if  an  author  had  protested  that  he  had  not  read 
one  word  of  his  owrn  works  for  half  a  century ;  if  a  champagne-manu- 
facturer had  taken  upon  himself  to  say  that  he  had  never  tasted  his  own 
liquid  in  his  life ; — in  any  such  cases  we  should  not  have  felt  a  moment's 
surprise.  We  should  have  perceived  immediately  that  they  had  a  motive 
for  their  self-denial.  But  here  there  was  none.  The  circumstance  we 
have  recorded  is  probably  without  parallel.  To  have  been  for  years 
steeped  to  the  very  lips,  another  Tantalus,  in  the  delights  of  Drury-lane, 
without  tasting  a  single  drop  !  To  have  had  the  fruit  bobbed  to  his  lips 
for  forty  years  !  To  have  grown  old  in  the  service  of  the  stage,  and 
yet  never  to  have  advanced  further  than  the  threshold  of  the  theatre  ! 
To  have  had  the  door  of  it  perpetually  shut  in  his  face  !  To  have  been 
the  nightly  medium  of  administering  gratuitous  pleasures  to  others,  and 
never  to  have  had  his  own  name  placed  on  the  free-list !  To  have  stood 
so  long  within  sight  of  the  promised  land,  without  the  possibility  of  reach- 
ing it !  To  have  seen  myriads  of  happy,  white-gloved  people  pass  into 
the  theatre,  dreaming  of  nothing  but  delight — yet  to  have  been  left 
behind,  shut  up  in  that  Pandora's  box  of  his,  and  to  feel  that  there  was 
no  hope  at  the  bottom  of  it !  Is  there  not  something  touching — some- 
thing that  amounts  to  a  kind  of  ludicrous  melancholy,  in  all  this  ?  There 
are  nights  when  the  free-list  is  suspended — our  friend's  office  on  these 
occasions  is  a  sinecure.  Surely  then  he  might  have  been  passed  in — at 
a  private  door.  Was  it  liberal,  was  it  even  common  humanity,  thus  to 
close  the  gates  against  him  ? — to  keep  him  waiting  for  forty  years ;  until 
either  the  stream,  or  his  inclination  to  cross  it,  had  passed  by  !  If  he 
had  only  gone  in  at  half-price,  it  would,  as  Yorick  observes,  have  been 
something. 

Again,  on  benefit-nights.  Was  there  no  one  to  present  him  with  a 
single  ticket — even  for  the  gallery  ?  Is  all  fellow-feeling  and  gratitude 
utterly  driven  from  Drury-lane  ?  Are  the  "  charitable  and  humane" 
nowhere  to  be  discovered  among  the  professors  of  the  dramatic  art? 
There  is  Mr.  Kean,  who  is  so  renowned  for  liberality,  and  who  has 
taken  benefits,  though  not  lately — we  are  astonished  at  him.  Even 
Munden  might,  in  such  a  case  as  this,  have  ventured  upon  an  act  of 
munificence  that  would  have  cost  him  nothing.  Suppose  he  had  sold 
him  a  pit-ticket,  as  they  are  offered  to  us  at  the  doors  of  some  of  the 
theatres,  for  "  eighteen-pence."  Really,  this  could  not  have  hurt  him. 
There  are  one  or  two  of  the  actresses,  also,  who  would  have  looked  still 


560  The  Modern  Tantalus  ;  or,  [Nov. 

more  pleasant  and  graceful  in  our  eyes,  could  we  have  learned  that  they 
had  evinced  any  gentleness  of  heart  and  kindling  of  sympathy  touching 
this  matter.  But  surely — the  notion  just  breaks  upon  us — surely  he 
must  have  had  benefits  of  his  own  !  Of  a  verity  he  has  had  such  within 
our  recollection.  "  Mr.  M.'s  night"  has  more  than  once  struck  upon 
our  optics  in  scarlet  characters,  dazzling  and  decoying  us.  What ! 
invite  his  friends  to  a  feast  whereof  he  declines  to  partake  himself ! 
Provide  all  the  delicacies  of  the  season  (the  phrase  applies  to  the  theatre 
as  well  as  to  the  table)  and  taste  not  of  a  dish  !  ff  Hast  thou  given  all 
to  thy  two  daughters,  and  art  thou  come  to  this  ?" 

As  we  listened  to  him  afterwards,  we  thought  there  was  a  pathos 
mingled  with  his  pleasantry,  a  magnanimity  in  his  air,  that  we  had 
never  observed  before.  With  the  strong  light  of  the  lamp  reflected  upon 
him,  he  looked  like  the  Man  in  the  Moon.  We  had  once  likened  him, 
in  the  sportiveness  of  fancy,  to  a  sort  of  human  "  toad-in-a-hole ;"  but  he 
now  seemed  to  us,  as  he  sate  there  in  his  lonely  and  desolate  nook,  greater 
than  Diogenes  in  his  tub. 

Such  were  the  first  impressions  which  his  extraordinary  announce- 
ment created  within  us.  We  reflected  upon  the  dreary  term  of  his 
exclusion — FORTY  YEARS  !  What  a  non-life  must  he  have  led !  The 
situation  of  Sterne's  "  Captive"  came  dimly  upon  our  recollection.  We 
brought  him  in  idea  before  our  eyes.  Our  unhappy,  ill-used,  inadmis- 
sible friend  resembled  him ;  his  was  a  parallel  case.  "  He  had  seen  no 
Kean,  no  Farren,  in  all  that  time  ;  nor  had  the  voice  of  Tree  or  Ste- 
phens breathed  through  his  lattice.  Grimaldi but  here  our  heart 

began  to  bleed."  We  could  not  read  over  the  list,  or  calculate  the  extent 
of  his  sacrifices,  without  feeling  that  he  had  suffered  a  worse  than 
cloistered  seclusion.  He  had  been  knocking,  like  a  true  Catholic,  at  the 
gate  of  Parliament  for  forty  years,  and  still  it  remained  most  perse- 
veringly  closed.  Two  revolutions  had  taken  place  in  France  during 
that  period  ; — yet  his  destiny  seemed  as  despotic  as  ever. 

Too  busied  with  these  emotions  and  reflections  to  enter  the  theatre, 
we  returned  home.  There,  however,  musing  upon  mysteries  of  all 
kinds,  our  feelings  gradually  rolled  back  into  their  former  channel.  The 
confession  of  that  night  tended  to  confirm  our  past  suspicions.  We 
remembered  his  extraordinary  communications ;  his  narrative  of  events 
witnessed  at  the  same  instant  in  several  places ;  his  rumours,  whispers, 
hints,  and  inuendos,  concerning  facts,  a  knowledge  whereof  could  only 
have  been  obtained  by  a  power  of  ubiquity,  that  must  have  been  pur- 
chased at  a  price  which  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  could  never  have 
repaid.  This  spiritual  admission  then  appeared  to  account  for  his  cor- 
pore.al  exclusion.  To  what  end  should  he  seek  to  enter  a  theatre,  when 
all  its  secrets  were  open  to  his  view  ?  Why  should  he  trouble  himself 
to  dress  for  the  Opera,  when  he  could  see  Pasta  from  that  magic  box—- 
the only  one  in  which  he  could  ever  have  occasion  to  take  a  place  ? 
Why  should  he  pay  for  admission  to  the  pit,  when  in  the  one  which  hath 
no  bottom  he  had  found  the  means  of  looking  through  lobby- walls,  and 
making  green  curtains  more  transparent  than  glass  ?  Besides,  could  a 
mere  mortal,  accustomed  to  yield  and  unfitted  to  resist,  ever  have  withr 
stood  the  temptation  to  which  he  had  been  nightly  exposed  for  many 
years?  Would  not  a  creature  like  man,  liable  to  fun  and  frailty  of  all 
kinds,  have  watched  his  opportunity  and  slipped  in  some  night  at  the 
latter  end  of  a  farce  ?  Could  we — could  the  reader — have  resisted  ?  Alas  ! 


1830.]  The  Demon  of  Drury-lane.  561 

these  are  questions  to  which  it  is  impossible  to  find  favourable  answers. 
The  fact,  the  dreadful  fact,  seems  almost  established.  The  strangely- 
gifted,  mysterious,  and  miserable  subject  of  this  history,  our  civil  but 
ill-fated  acquaintance  of  the  privilege-office,  has  been  for  more  than  half 

the  term  of  his  natural  existence  on  terms  of  intimacy  with 

*  *  *  * 

We  begin  to  suspect  that  there  may  really  be  wickedness  and  peril 
in  these  profane  stage-plays  j  and  that  he  with  whom  we  have  inno- 
cently gossiped,  may  be  an  agent  set  there  on  purpose  to  register  our 
names  upon  the  free-list,  to  seduce  us  into  the  theatre,  and  to  ruin  us 

gratuitously ! ! 

*  *  #  * 

Earnestly  do  we  hope  that  he  may  be  enabled  to  explain  the  enigma 
better  than  we  can.  We  trust  that  the  gorgons  and  chimeras  dire, 
which,  to  our  apprehension,  are  now  haunting  his  path,  may  prove 
as  harmless  and  gentje  as  doves ;  and  that  he  may  secretly  have  within 
his  own  mind  a  guiding  and  a  golden  light  to  console  him  amidst  the 
dangers  and  darkness  that  appear  to  envelope  him.  And  if  he  should 
be  able  to  prove  to  us  that  he  is  still  human — if  he  can  shew  the  means 
by  which  he  obtains  his  information,  and  can  convince  us  that  he  has 
no  earthly  right  to  a  place  in  Sir  Walter  Scott's  next  edition  of  his 
"  Demonology,"  the  public  we  think  will  cheerfully  second  our  efforts 
in  brightening  his  future  days,  in  interposing  with  the  new  management 
in  his  favour,  and  ensuring  him  a  view  of  the  Christmas  pantomime. 
Only  let  him  convince  us  that  he  has  not  fallen  into  the  most  terrible 
of  all  toils,  and  we  shall  immediately  open  a  subscription  to  purchase 
him — not  a  piece  of  plate — but  a  Free  Admission  to  the  theatre  as  long 
as  he  lives.  May  it  be  forty  years  more  !  B. 


SIERRA    LEONE    SAINTS,    AND    WEST    INDIA    SINNERS. 

IT  was  only  a  few  months  ago  that  we  submitted  to  our  readers  some 
account  of  that  modern  Golgotha  of  the  "  Saints" — Sierra  Leone.  We 
then  expressed  our  honest  indignation  at  the  unworthy  arts  by  which 
the  British  public  were  long  kept  in  ignorance  of  its  total  worthlessness, 
and  our  detestation  of  the  audacious  deceptions  practised  upon  the 
British  government  to  induce  them  to  give  annual  grants  of  public 
money  for  its  support,  and  finally,  to  take  this  deadly  concern  out  of 
the  hands  of  the  "  philanthropists/'  and  throw  away  a  few  more 
millions  on  their  maudlin  schemes,  instituted  under  the  mask  of 
Humanity.  We  scarcely,  at  that  period,  ventured  to  hope  that  in  such  a 
short  space  of  time  a  complete  exposure  of  this  African  sink  of  iniquity 
would  take  place ;  and  now  that  the  facts  can  no  longer  be  concealed  or 
glossed  over,  we  sincerely  trust  Mr.  Hume,  and  other  active  members 
of  the  legislature,  will  continue  their  exertions  to  expose  and  punish 
the  authors  of  a  system  of  fraudulent  deception,  which  has  cost  Great 
Britain  such  sums  of  money,  arid  so  many  thousands  of  valuable  lives; 
and  which  has  also  inflicted  such  a  load  of  misery  upon  the  unfortunate 
beings  who  have  from  time  to  time  been  forced  to  become  free  settlers, 
to  sink  under  the  tender  mercies  of  the  abolitionists. 

Sierra  Leone  was  at  one  time,  and  even  up  to  a  recent  date,  repre- 
sented by  the  "  Saints"  to  be  one  of  the  most  healthy  of  settlements : 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  59.  4  B 


562  Sierra  Leone  Saints,  and  West  India  Sinners.  [Nov. 

it  is  now  proved  to  have  been,  from  the  beginning,  a  pestilential  charnel- 
house  !  The  African  and  other  settlers  were,  even  in  the  recent  pam- 
phlet of  Kenneth  Macauley,  said  to  have  rapidly  advanced  in  civiliza- 
tion, and  that  religious  instruction  had  produced  the  most  blessed  fruits. 
We  now  find  the  population  in  a  state  of  the  most  degrading  ignorance, 
and  that  brutal  licentiousness  is  universal.  It  was  said  that  the  Maroons 
had  made  such  progress  in  wealth  and  respectability  that  their  brethren 
in  Jamaica  were  not  to  be  compared  with  them;  we  nowjtnd  these  people 

PETITIONING  TO  BE  SENT  BACK  TO  THE  WEST  INDIES. 

We  were  assured  that  the  Foreign  Slave  Trade  was  to  be  entirely 
annihilated,  and  Africa  civilized  by  the  moral  example  and  political 
ascendency  of  this  religious  assemblage  of  free  negroes  !  We  now  see 
that  the  Foreign  Slave  Trade,  so  far  from  being  destroyed,  is  carried  on 
with  greater  vigour  than  ever,  and  is  said  to  be  fostered  and  encouraged 
by  this  very  settlement,  established  for  its  suppression  ;  and  that  the 
only  effect  of  its  civilization,  upon  the  neighbouring  tribes,  has  been, 
to  create  dissensions,  introduce  new  vices,  and  to  render  the  name  of 
"  white  man"  a  term  of  reproach  throughout  Africa.  We  see  that 
the  unhappy  beings  seized  in  the  slave  vessels,  die  by  hundreds — even 
before  they  can  be  landed  at  the  settlement  j  and  that  many  thousands 
of  the  survivors,  whose  liberation  costs  this  country  millions  of  public 
money,  have  wandered,  no  one  knows  where,  or  been  again  sold  into 
slavery ;  and  that  even  a  schoolmaster  has  been  detected  in  selling  his 
pupils ! 

One  of  the  last  documents  presented  to  the  late  Parliament,*  places 
the  dreadful  mortality  of  all  classes  in  a  frightful  point  of  view. 

Wm.  Smith,  Esq.  thus  writes  to  Lord  Aberdeen,  on  the  10th  of  June 
— <c  Amongst  the  numerous  deaths  I  have  to  report  to  your  lordship, 
that  of  Mr.  Richard  Groves,  Marshal  to  the  Courts  of  Mixed  Commis- 
sion." On  the  same  day  he  writes,  "  It  is  with  feelings  of  unfeigned 
regret  that  I  have  to  report  the  death  of  Mr.  S.  M.  Magnus,  first  clerk 
to  His  Majesty's  Commissioners."  On  the  llth  he  states  that  Mr. 
Jackson,  the  commissary  judge,  had  been  obliged  to  return  to  England 
in  a  dangerous  state  of  health  ;  and  on  the  3d  of  July,  he  says,  "  It  is 
with  the  most  poignant  feelings  of  regret,  that  it  again  becomes  my 
melancholy  duty,  &c. — Mr.  RefFell,  the  registrar,  died  on  the  3d 
instant."  On  the  19th  of  August,  he  writes,  "  I  have  again  a  melan- 
choly duty  to  perform,  in  acquainting  your  lordship  with  the  death,  on 
the  3d  instant,  of  Mr.  T.  M.  Walker,"  the  young  gentleman  appointed 
to  fill  one  of  the  situations  vacant  by  the  above-mentioned  deaths,  and 
in  the  same  letter  Mr.  Smith  states  that  a  Mr.  Frederick  Jarvis,  who 
succeeded  Mr.  Groves  as  marshal,  only  held  the  situation  two  weeks, 
<e  having  unfortunately  died  on  the  9th  ultimo,  after  ten  days'  illness ! !" 

These  papers  shew  a  frightful  increase  of  the  slave-trade  in  every 
direction.  Mr.  Jackson,  writing  to  Lord  Aberdeen,  on  the  5th  January 
.of  last  year,  mentions  "  the  unprecedented  number  of  slaves  which  within 
the  last  four  months  have  been  brought  before  the  several  Courts  of 
Mixed  Commissions :  a  proof  of  the  perseverance  of  those  engaged  in 
this  inhuman  traffic  ;"  and  the  Commissioners  further  wrote,  on  the  19th 
February,  "  the  slave-trade  seems  to  be  breaking  out  afresh  to  the 

*  Class  A,  Session  1830.  Correspondence  with  the  British  Commissioners  at  Sierra 
Leone,  &c. 


1830.]  Sierra  Leone  Saints,  and  Wcsi  India  Sinners.  563 

northward  !"  On  the  19th  August,  Mr.  Smith  expresses  his  opinion  that 
the  Brazilians  will  continue  the  trade,  notwithstanding  our  treaty  with 
them  to  the  contrary,  and  that  we  cannot  prevent  them.  On  the  23d  of 
March  the  capture  of  an  armed  slaver  is  reported,  and  that "  traders  are 
becoming  more  daring  every  day,"  in  fact,  the  trade  is  assuming  a  new 
character,  and  the  vessels  now  employee7  are  of  such  a  class  as  not  only 
to  lessen  the  chance  of  capture  by  superiority  of  sailing,  but  also  to 
enable  them  to  make  a  more  formidable  resistance.  On  the  26th  June 
the  Commissioners  write,  "  We  regret  to  add  that  the  slave-trade  is 
manifestly  reviving,  with  additional  activity,  at  the  Gallinas,  only  150 
miles  from  Freetown  !  !" 

The  mortality  which  takes  place  in  these  captured  vessels,  between 
the  time  of  capture  and  adjudication,  is  truly  horrible.  In  one  case  the 
number  of  deaths  was  60  out  of  201 ;  in  another,  179  out  of  448 ;  in 
a  third,  115  out  of  271  ;  in  another,  65  out  of  218;  in  another,  on  the 
passage  from  Fernando  Po  to  Freetown,  109  out  of  226;  and  there 
are  numerous  other  cases. 

From  Havannah  the  same  accounts  of  the  increased  activity  and 
desperation  of  the  traders,  is  given  by  Mr.  Macleay.  One  slaver  wa 
run  ashore  on  the  coast  of  Cuba,  by  the  Skipjack,  and  was  blown-up. 
There  was  only  one  wretched  negro  found  on  board.  (f  There  is  every 
reason  to  believe,  though  it  may  be  difficult  to  prove  the  fact,  that  the 
crew  set  fire  to  her,  as  in  the  case  of  the  '  Mexico,'  with  the  horrible 
intention  of  destroying  the  captors,  together  with  such  negroes  as  they 
had  not  time  to  land/'  In  the  case  of  the  Midas,  captured  by  the 
Monkey,  out  of  562  negroes  taken  from  Africa,  241  died,  and  forty 
threw  themselves  overboard — making  altogether  a  mortality  of  exactly 
one  half.  Another  slave  pirate,  who  arrived  safe  in  Cuba,  "  had  plun- 
dered other  slave  vessels  of  about  980  slaves,  and  had  scarcely  sailed 
for  this  island  with  them,  when  the  small  pox  and  other  contagious 
disease^  broke  out,  which  reduced  a  crew  of  157  to  66,  and  the  980 
slaves  to  about  300  ! ! 

Mr.  Macleay,  in  his  letter  to  Lord  Aberdeen,  of  the  1st  January, 
states,  that  the  number  of  slaves  landed  in  1828,  exclusive  of  those 
liberated  by  the  Mixed  Commissions,  amounted  to  7.000  at  least ;  and 
he  attributes  the  increased  activity  to — 1st,  the  great  number  of  sugar 
estates  now  forming  on  the  island — 2dly,  to  the  enormous  profits  attend- 
ing the  illicit  slave-trade — 3dly,  to  the  certainty,  now  prevailing  among 
the  slave-traders,  that  they  are  favoured  and  protected  by  the  local 
government,  if  not  by  the  government  at  home.  "  The  coffee  planters," 
says  he,  "  who  had  in  former  years  realized  money,  have  above  all 
turned  their  attention  to  sugar  cultivation ;  and  as,  taking  sugar  and 
coffee  estates  at  their  average  extent,  one  of  the  former  requires  about 
three  times  as  many  negroes  as  a  coffee  plantation,  of  course  the  demand 
for  slaves  has  in  proportion  increased. 

It  must  appear  quite  evident  to  every  man  of  common  sense,  that  the 
most  effectual  encouragement  that  can  possibly  be  afforded  to  the 
Spaniard  to  continue  this  nefarious  traffic,  is  precisely  that  which  our 
abolitionists  at  home  are  now  pursuing — namely,  to  increase  the  demand 
for  foreign  sugars,  by  ruining  the  British  sugar-planters  !  And  that, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  encourage  the  produce  of  our  own  colonies,  and 
thereby  render  supplies  from  foreign  colonies  unnecessary,  would  be 
the  surest  means  of  abating  it !  But  this  does  not  suit  the  politics  of 

4  B  2 


564  Sierra  Leone  Sqints,  and  Went  India  Sinners.  £ Nov 

the  humane  Messrs.  Brougham,  Buxton,  Macaulay,  and  Co.,  and  their 
followers ! 

To  return  to  Sierra  Leone,  the  following  extracts  of  a  letter,  dated 
from  Freetown,  July,  1830,  will  give  some  idea  of  the  results  of  the 
religious  instruction  and  civilization  plans  of  the  "  philanthropists." 

"  You  would  be  astonished  to  see  the  prevalence  of  vice  in  this  wretched  place. 
All  the  great  landmarks  of  civilization  are  noticed  only  with  the  view  of 
drawing  fresh  supplies  and  support  from  the  northern  country.  They  are 
never  dwelt  on  as  being  conducive  to  happiness,  or  practised  in  the  search  of  it. 
Here  the  European  and  the  African,  with  some  few  exceptions,  Itnow  but  the 
semblance  of  virtue,  and  that  only  as  the  means  of  enabling  them  to  indulge  in  vice. 
Of  this  we  have  recently  had  a  frightful  example.  A  liberated  African,  a  mis- 
sionary schoolmaster,  named  Thomas  Edward  Cowan,  has  been  convicted  of 
stealing  a  boy,  one  of  his  own  pupils,  and  also  a  liberated  African,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  selling  him  into  that  horrible  state  of  slavery  from  which  he  had  been 
snatched  by  British  courage  and  philanthropy.  This  monster  was  tried  in 
June,  at  our  General  Quarter  Sessions,  and  the  charge  of  the  new  Chief  Jus- 
tice, Mr.  Jeffcott,  to  the  grand  jury,  is  worthy  of  particular  notice.  Some  pas- 
sages in  it  will  shew  you  that  I  was  not  misinformed,  when  I  stated  that  the  slave 
trade  is  carried  on  to  a  considerable  extent  in  this  very  colony;  and  I  expect  shortly 
to  be  able  to  forward  you  several  interesting  cases,  which  will  still  further 
prove  the  accuracy  of  my  statement.  The  following  are  the  passages  in  the 
Chief  Justice's  statement,  to  which  I  allude : — 

" '  I  have  heard — and  from  the  source  from  which  my  information  is  derived, 
I  am  bound  to  believe  what  I  should  otherwise  have  deemed  incredible — that 
persons  are  to  be  found  in  this  colony,  who,  if  riot  directly  engaged  in,  aid  and 
abet  the  abominable  traffic  in  slaves.  That  such  persons  are  to  be  found,  I 
repeat  it,  in  THIS  COLONY — a,  colony  founded  for  its  suppression,  towards  whose 
establishment,  and  in  whose  support  so  much  wealth  has  been  expended,  and  so  many 
valuable  lives  sacrificed  ;  and,  further,  that  men  holding  respectable  stations — 
men  having  all  the  outward  appearance  arid  show  of  respectability,  are  not 
ashamed— I  should  rather  say,  are  not  afraid — to  lend  themselves  to  this  nefa- 
rious, this  abominable  trade  ! 

"  '  It  has  come  to  the  ears  of  the  Government  of  this  colony,  that  aid  and 
assistance  have  been  afforded  in  the  fitting  out  of  ships,  well  known  to  be 
destined  for  such  unlawful  traffic,  and  that  vessels  have  been  so  fitted  out 
from  time  to  time  by  persons  resident  in  this  colony,  for  the  Gallinas  and  else- 
where. 

"  '  Is  it  to  be  tolerated  that  this  colony,  established  for  express  purpose  of 
suppressing  this  vile  traffic,  should  be  made  a  mart  for  carrying  it  on  ?  Is  it 
to  be  borne,  that  this  harbour,  miscalled — if  all  I  have  heard  and  am  led  to  be- 
lieve be  true — the  harbour  of  Free-town,  should  shelter  within  its  bosom,  while 
the  British  flag  waves  over  its  ramparts,  vessels,  purchased  after  their  con- 
demnation by  the  Mixed  Commission  Courts,  to  make  a  second  and  a  third 
experiment  in  the  slave-trade  ?  to  be  perhaps  again  captured  by  our  cruisers, 
and  again  bought  up  by  the  skulking  foreigners  who  prowl  about  this  place, 
as  the  one  best  calculated  for  their  iniquitous  purpose  ? 

"  '  I  have,  since  my  arrival  here,  taken  some  pains  to  ascertain  the  number 
of  liberated  Africans  imported  into  this  colony  within  a  given  period,  as  com- 
pared with  the  number  now  located  in  the  different  villages  ;  and,  although  the 
census  of  the  latter  is  not  quite  complete,  I  have  every  reason  to  believe,  that 
whereas  there  have  been  imported  into  the  colony  of  Sierra  Leone,  within  the 
last  ten  years,  upwards  of  22,000  Africans,  who  have  obtained  their  liberation, 
and  have  been  located  here  at  the  expense  of  the  British  Government— an 
expense  which,  "upon  the  most  moderate  calculation,  including  that  of  the 
civil  establishment  of  this  colony,  and  of  the  naval  and  military  force  attached 
to  it,  together  with  the  sums  paid  to  the  higher  and  subordinate  officers  of  the 
Mixed  Commissions,  amounts  to  £300.  per  man,  or  nearly  seven  millions  ster- 


1830.]  Sierra  Leone  Saints,  and  West  India  Sinners.  565 

ling,  in  the  course  of  ten  years,  there  are  not  now  to  be  found  in  the  colony 
above  17  or  18,000  men  !'  " 

The  Chief  Justice,  in  passing  sentence  upon  the  missionary  school- 
master, told  him — 

"  '  I  have  this  day,  in  the  discharge  of  a  melancholy  duty,  been  forced  to 
pass  the  awful  sentence  of  death  upon  a  man  for  stealing  a  sheep  ;  and  upon 
you,  who  have  been  convicted,  upon  the  clearest  evidence,  of  having  stolen, 
for  the  purpose  of  selling  him  to  slavery,  your  former  companion  in  captivity — 
one  to  whom  the  recollections  of  your  common  country,  the  fate  which  you 
had  both  escaped,  the  benefits  which  you  enjoyed  in  common,  and  the  rela- 
tions in  which  you  stood  to  him  as  his  instructor  and  his  master — ought  to 
have  made  you  a  friend  and  a  protector,  instead  of  a  betrayer  of  the  worst 
description :  —upon  you,  I  say,  the  law  will  not  allow  me  to  pass  a  heavier 
sentence  than  that  of  a  few  years'  imprisonment.  But,  had  you  consummated 
your  crime  out  of  the  boundaries  of  this  colony — had  you  accompanied  your 
victim  to  the  Rio  Pongas,  and  completed  your  offence  on  the  high  seas,  within 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  admiral — you  would  have  been  tried  by  a  different 
court,  arraigned  upon  a  different  indictment;  and  it  would  have  been  my 
duty,  on  your  conviction,  to  pass  sentence  of  death  upon  you,  and  order  you, 
as  I  should  have  done,  for  instant  execution,  which  I  have  little  doubt  you  have 
merited  on  former  occasions  ;  for  that  this  has  been  your  first  offence  all  the  par- 
ticulars of  your  case  induce  me  to  disbelieve.'  " 

We  consider  it  unnecessary  to  adduce  any  further  proofs  of  the  iniqui- 
ties resulting  from  the  absurd  civilization  and  conversion  theories  of  the 
(e  saints,"  or  of  the  miseries  which  their  ignorance  and  duplicity  have 
entailed  upon  Africa.  If  we  may  believe  a  statement  made  in  one  of 
their  own  journals — <c  The  Jamaica  Free  Press" — their  schemes  for 
instructing  "  our  negro  brethren"  in  the  West  Indies,  "  the  lineal 
descendants  of  the  Amilcars,  the  Hannibals,  the  Ptolemys,  and  the 
Confuciuses  of  olden  time"  as  they  are  ludicrously  styled,  are  equally 
unsuccessful.  ef  But,  alas  !"  sa"y  these  canting  hypocrites,  tf  this  is  entirely 
owing  to  '  slavery/  that  bane  and  curse  of  West  Indian  society,  which, 
by  degrading,  and  almost  brutalizing,  its  unhappy  victims,  has,  to  a 
considerable  extent,  broken  their  spirits,  and  deadened  their  energies. 
Hence  the  apathy  which  they  evince,  and  the  necessity  for  coercion." 

"  The  School  of  Industry,"  says  one  of  their  own  body,  "  is  still  in 
operation.  I  have  repeatedly  been  on  the  eve  of  discontinuing  it  from 
a  lack  of  funds,  but  aware  of  its  importance  to  a  people  so  naturally  dis- 
posed to  indolence,  that  fruitful  source  of  crime  and  wretchedness,  I  have 
endeavoured,  though  with  extreme  difficulty,  to  carry  it  on  till  now." 
That  there  is  still  a  necessity  for  coercion,  and  that  these  descendants  of 
the  Carthagenians  !  the  Ptolemys  !  and  the  Confuciuses  !  of  olden  time, 
are  naturally  disposed  to  apathy  and  indolence,  are  strange  admissions, 
after  we  have  been  so  often  told  of  the  immense  quantity  of  work  they 
would  do,  if  placed  in  the  situation  of  free  labourers  ;  and  if  their  being 
in  a  state  of  slavery  is  the  cause  of  their  indolence  and  apathy,  to  what 
cause  would  this  "  descendant  of  Amilcar,"  the  Editor  of  the  Free  Press, 
attribute  the  apathy  of  the  free  negroes  in  the  schools  at  Sierra  Leone 
and  in  the  crown  colonies  ? 

"  In  setting  about  the  conversion  of  more  than  800,000  black  slaves 
into  free  citizens/'  says  Mr.  Coleridge,  "  we  must  act  sensibly  and  dis- 
creetly j  especially,  we  must  begin  with  the  beginning,  for  it  is  not  a 
matter  of  Decree,  Edict,  or  Act  of  Parliament ;  there  is  no  hocus  pocus 
in  the  thing,  there  are  no  presto  movements.  It  is  a  mighty  work  ;  yet 


566  Sierra  Leone  Saints,  and  West  India  Sinners.  £Nov. 

mighty  as  it  is,  it  must  be  effected,  if  at  all,  in  the  order  and  by  the  rules 
which  reason  and  experience  have  proved  to  be  alone  effectual.  If  we 
attempt  to  reverse  the  order  or  alter  the  mode,  we  shall  not  only  fail  our- 
selves, but  make  it  impossible  that  any  should  succeed." 

We  have  long  been  of  opinion  that  it  is  only  gradual  measures  pro- 
ducing gradual  improvement,  and  by  the  sound  doctrines  and  sober 
views  of  the  clergy  of  the  English  and  Scottish  churches  (to  the  Mora- 
vians, also,  we  have  no  objection)  in  the  colonies,  that  the  Chris- 
tian religion  can  ultimately  be  spread  in  the  West  Indies ;  and  when 
we  perceive  the  most  respectable  and  influential  individuals  in  Jamaica, 
accompanied  by  their  labourers,  zealously  aiding  and  assisting  in  the 
erection  of  new  chapels,  we  can  easily  perceive  the  dawn  of  a  bet- 
ter state  of  society  in  the  colonies,  and  can  account  for  some  of  the 
spleen  presently  displayed  by  the  sectaries,  and  their  great  activity  in 
slandering  the  colonists. — We  extract  the  following  from  the  Jamaica 
paper  above  mentioned.  At  laying  the  foundation  stone  of  the  new 
chapel  in  Darliston  district,  to  be  built  on  four  acres  of  land,  given  for 
the  purpose  by  P.  Ferguson,  Esq.,  of  Cliefden,  the  bishop  and  principal 
clergy,  the  governor  and  his  staff,  and  the  respectable  proprietors  in  the 
district,  were  present.  "  The  negroes  belonging  to  the  neighbouring 
properties  had  '  the  day'  given  to  them ;  and  they  shewed,  by  their 
numbers  in  attendance,  and  the  neatness  of  their  apparel,  the  interest 
they  took  in  the  ceremony " — This  is  as  it  should  be.  But  while  such 
cheering  prospects  are  gradually  opening  in  the  colonies,  the  sectaries 
at  home  are  endeavouring  to  move  heaven  and  earth  for  the  immediate 
destruction  of  the  colonists. — We  may  shortly  have  occasion  to  notice 
their  present  unconstitutional  efforts  all  over  the  country,  to  procure 
petitions  to  overawe  the  Legislature ;  and  should  they  not  be  firmly 
and  decisively  met  by  his  Majesty's  ministers,  the  West  India  body, 
and  every  sensible  member  of  both  Houses,  we  may  expect  to  see  some 
modern  Pym,  as  in  the  days  of  sectarian  ascendancy,  come  to  the  door  of 
the  house,  to  thank  old  female  zealots  for  their  petitions,  and  hypocriti- 
cally "  entreating  their  prayers" — for  the  destruction  of  the  West  India 
colonists. 


PETERSBURG!!,    MOSCOW,    AND    THE    PROVINCES.* 

REVOLUTION  is  now  the  prevailing  topic  in  polite  circles.  Murder 
and  rebellion  form  the  prominent  ingredients  in  the  small-talk  of  the 
hour;  and  not  to  gossip  upon  such  subjects  is  to  be  voted  unfashionable. 
We  prefer,  however,  a  quieter  theme,  if  it  be  only  for  a  little  relief;  and 
while  half  Europe  is  in  a  state  of  political  frenzy,  and  all  eyes  are 
directed  to  the  movements  of  the  mighty  engines  of  anarchy  and  dissen- 
tion,  it  may  be  quite  as  profitable  and  far  more  pleasant  to  take  a  glance 
in  a  more  peaceful  direction,  and  make  a  short  tour  through  the  capital 
of  Russian  civilization.  This  may  be  found  more  desirable,  inasmuch  as 
the  Russians  are  a  people  of  whom  we  know  but  little.  Their  wars,  their 
triumphs,  their  military  annals,  we  have  traced  through  the  page  of 
history :  we  have  a  distant  knowledge  of  them,  as  a  nation,  out  of  doors, 
if  we  may  use  that  expression,  in  the  same  manner  as  we  have  sometimes 

*  Petersbourg,  Moscow,  et  les  Provinces,  ou  Observations  sur  les  Mocurs  et  les  Usages 
Russcs,  au  Commencement  du  xix'nc  siecle  ;  par  E.  Duprc  de  St.  Maurc.  3  vols.  Paris. 


1830.]  Petersburg/^  Moscow,  and  the  Provinces.  567 

a  formal  acquaintance  with  individuals  whom  we  are  accustomed  to  meet 
but  rarely ,  and  on  ceremonious  terms,  in  society.  But  their  domestic 
existence — the  habits  which  they  have  acquired,  and  the  arts  which  they 
have  cultivated  during  the  leisure  afforded  by  a  long  and  profound 
peace — their  national  character,  manners,  and  public  institutions — these 
are  topics  of  which  we  have  hitherto  remained  totally  ignorant,  as  well 
from  the  obstacles  interposed  by  distance  and  difference  of  climate,  as 
from  the  scantiness  of  published  materials  on  the  subject  to  which  credit 
can  be  attached.  The  field,  open  to  the  intelligent  observer  of  Russian 
manners,  is  very  extensive.  In  taking  up  a  book  professing  to  treat 
on  such  matters,  we  expect  to  find  something  better  than  a  description 
of  the  public  monuments  of  the  Russian  capital :  we  expect  the  author 
of  acknowledged  talent  to  take  a  higher  flight  than  that  to  which  the 
cicerone  of  a  watering-place  can  soar.  We  wish  to  see  the  national  cha- 
racter of  the  Russian  population  reflected  in  their  manners,  their  laws, 
their  ceremonies,  their  amusements,  and  even  in  their  imperfections. 
On  these  points  M.  Dupre  St.  Maur,  the  author  of  "  The  Hermit  in 
Russia,"  affords  much  information.  Where  the  subject  possesses  the 
attraction  of  novelty,  it  is  easy  for  the  writer  to  claim  the  merit  of  origi- 
nality, and  for  this  reason,  although  our  author  has  certainly  left  much 
unsaid,  yet  the  very  subject-matter  which  he  has  chosen,  like  an  ada- 
mantine shield,  renders  him  almost  invulnerable  to  the  shafts  of  cri- 
ticism. 

As  a  proof  of  the  universal  ignorance  which  prevails  with  regard  to 
Russia,  we  need  only  observe  that  the  simple  mention  of  a  journey  to 
that  country  awakens  scarcely  any  other  idea  in  the  minds  of  superficial 
listeners  than  that  of  excessive  severity  of  temperature — of  cold  that 
turns  to  ice  "  the  lazy  current  of  the  blood."  The  generality  of  travel- 
readers  hoard  with  avidity  any  anecdote  that  touches  upon  the  rigour  of 
a  northern  winter,  but  totally  lay  aside  the  consideration  of  such  redeem- 
ing circumstances  as  neutralize  or  counterbalance  the  evil.  We  know 
many  a  sapient  reasoner  who  can  no  more  conceive  it  possible  to  walk 
the  streets  of  St.  Petersburg  without  wading  at  every  step  knee-deep  in 
snow  than  to  pass  through  the  Turkish  capital  without  witnessing  at 
the  corner  of  every  street  the  exhibition  of  an  impaled  Mussulman.  Were 
a  traveller  to  relate  facts  such  as  they  are  (a  virtue  which,  by  the  way,  is 
not  the  traveller's  forte) ;  were  he  to  assert  that  the  punishment  of  im- 
palement is  more  rarely  exhibited  at  Constantinople  than  the  disgraceful 
spectacle  of  an  execution  at  the  Old  Bailey  ;  or  that  in  the  summer  sea- 
son the  weather  is  generally  finer  on  the  borders  of  the  Neva  than  on  the 
banks  of  the  Thames — none  would  be  hardy  enough  to  credit  him ;  it 
is  so  comfortable  to  cling  to  an  old-fashioned  error — it  saves  a  world  of 
thought  and  argument. 

In  the  portraiture  of  national  features,  the  impartial  observer  should 
devote  his  most  unwearied  attention  to  the  study  of  the  moral  characters 
of  a  people.  The  outline  of  a  people  is  to  be  traced  among  individuals 
— among  individuals  alone  can  the  mass  be  studied.  In  this  point  of 
view,  both  "  The  Hermit  in  Russia/'  and  the  continuation  now  offered  to 
the  public,  will  be  found  replete  with  judicious  reflections  on  the  exist- 
ence and  moral  condition  of  the  cultivators  of  the  soil.  With  regard 
to  the  peasants  whom  self-styled  philanthropists  delight  to  represent  as 
groaning  under  the  weight  of  their  chains — "  the  iron  of  slavery  enter- 
ing their  souls" — the  author  asserts,  and,  we  believe,  with  truth,  that 


568  Petersburgh,  Moscow,  and  the  Provinces.  [Nov. 

the  generality  are  happy  and  contented — that  the  beings  whom  rhapso- 
dists  have  depicted  as  degraded  into  brutal  stupidity  by  the  galling 
pressure  of  bondage,  are  gifted,  on  the  contrary,  with  sense,  with  recti- 
tude, with  grateful  hearts,  and  endowed  with  a  keen  perception  of  right 
and  wrong ;  that  their  superior  tact  enables  them  to  decide  with  almost 
infallible  impartiality  the  extent  of  the  bondsman's  duty — the  limits  of 
the  master's  right ;  in  a  word,  that  among  the  peasants  who  are  sup- 
posed to  groan  under  the  scourge  of  misery,  and  to  share  the  heritage 
of  poverty,  may  sometimes  be  found  the  possessor  of  thousands  ! 

The  work,  from  which  we  subjoin  a  few  fragments,  possesses  mate- 
rials sufficiently  varied  to  interest  every  class  of  readers :  its  pages, 
while  they  beguile  a  heavy  hour,  frequently  perform  a  higher  office, 
and  serve  as  a  vehicle  for  the  lessons  of  practical  wisdom.  Our  extracts, 
however,  are  principally  confined  to  the  lighter  portions  of  the  work, 
the  detached  and  abbreviated  selection  of  matter,  which  our  limits  com- 
pel us  to  adopt,  not  according  with  the  graver  subjects  on  which  the 
author  occasionally  treats.  The  following  passage  relates  to  the  pic- 
turesque islands  situated  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Neva  : — 

<f  Let  the  reader  imagine  an  immense  garden  adapted  to  the  English  taste, 
of  the  circumference  of  five  French  leagues,  and  intersected  by  the  windings 
of  the  river,  whose  meanderings  bestow  inexhaustible  variety  on  the  different 
points  of  view.  An  English  traveller,  who  was  once  conducted  to  the  magni- 
ficent scene  just  as  the  sun  was  about  to  set,  was  lost  in  admiration.  Sur- 
prised at  the  total  absence  of  night — a  circumstance  which  usually  takes  place 
towards  the  end  of  May — he  remained  fixed  to  the  spot ;  and  expecting  at 
every  instant  the  approach  of  darkness,  neglected  to  seek  repose  for  eight  and 
forty  hours.  A  characteristic  trait  of  an  opposite  nature  is  related  of  the 
celebrated  Alfieri,  who,  happening  to  visit  the  same  spot  during  the  month  of 
June,  was  seized  with  such  a  fit  of  ill-humour  at  the  prolonged  absence  of 
night,  that  he  shut  himself  up  in  his  chamber,  and  retired  to  bed,  where  he 
remained  till  the  days  again  decreased." 

The  author  gives  the  following  details  on  the  subject  of  the  Russian 
clergy,  and  afterwards  passes,  rather  abruptly,  to  the  mention  of  the 
Emperor  Paul.  •  The  reader,  however,  who  is  fond  of  anecdote,  will  not 
cavil  at  the  arrangement  of  the  subject-matter:  — 

ff  Marriage  is  one  of  the  conditions  imposed  on  the  priesthood,  and  inva- 
riably precedes  the  sacrament  of  ordination.  None  of  the  Russian  popes  can 
espouse  a  widow,  or  contract  a  second  matrimonial  union.  The  death  of 
their  wives,  therefore,  reduces  them  to  the  alternative  of  retiring  to  a  monas- 
tery, or  of  renouncing  their  sacerdotal  functions.  Such  of  them  as  have  the 
misfortune  to  become  widowers,  generally  embrace  the  monastic  state.  The 
secular  priests,  how  distinguished  soever  by  virtue  or  by  talent,  are  forbidden 
to  become  candidates  for  the  episcopal  dignity.  The  severest  punishment  that 
can  be  inflicted  on  a  Russian  priest  is  the  shaving  off  his  beard  ;  such  a  dis- 
grace being  tantamount  to  his  dismissal  from  his  sacred  office.  A  Russian 
pope's  wife,  like  Caesar's,  '  must  not  be  suspected:'  the  slightest  stain  upon 
her  virtue  would  fall  upon  her  husband,  and  cause  his  expulsion  from  the 
order  of  the  priesthood.  Consequently,  the  dread  of  an  act  of  dishonour, 
which  would  infallibly  occasion  her  partner's  ruin,  acts  as  a  check  upon  the 
levity  of  the  wife.  A  pope,  once  finding  his  wife  in  rather  exceptionable 
society,  pointed  to  his  beard,  at  the  same  time  imitating  with  his  fingers  the 
action  of  the  scissors.  The  significant  gesture  was  not  lost  upon  the  lady, 
who  instantly  rose  and  retired  with  her  husband. 

"  The  Emperor  Paul,  notorious  for  his  singularities,  at  one  time  conceived 
the  idea  of  exercising  the  functions  of  patriarch — a  project  from  which  he 


1830.]  Petcrsburgh,  Moscow,  and  the  Provi 


was  with  some  difficulty  dissuaded.  Now  that  I  am  on  the  subject  of  Paul, 
I  may  as  well  introduce  a  few  anecdotes  of  that  whimsical  emperor.  He 
was  not  fond  of  compliments :  the  flatterer  that  would  please  him  was  under 
the  necessity  of  disguising  his  incense,  which,  if  unsparingly  lavished,  was 
coldly  and  often  harshly  received.  Like  the  father  of  the  great  Frederick, 
Paul  had  a  singular  liking  for  very  tall  people.  One  day,  conversing  with  the 
Count  de  Choiseul-Gouffier  on  the  subject  of  the  grenadiers  of  his  guard, — 
'  I  am  not  of  low  stature,'  said  the  Emperor,  (  and  yet,  even  when  I  stand  on 
tiptoe,  my  nose  hardly  touches  their  chins.' — '  Sire/  replied  the  Count,  f  there 
are  various  descriptions  of  greatness/  The  Emperor,  assuming  a  tone  of 
raillery,  and  examining  the  Count's  dress  with  attention, — '  You  have  never 
worn  that  coat  before/  said  his  majesty ;  '  'tis  of  Versailles  manufacture,  I 
presume ;  and  you  have  doubtless  found  that  compliment  in  one  of  the 
pockets.' 

"  On  one  occasion,  M.  Doyen,  a  French  painter  attached  to  the  court,  had  a 
violent  quarrel  with  Prince  YousoupofF,  the  Director-General  of  the  Fine 
Arts.  On  the  following  morning  the  Emperor  visited  the  gallery,  where 
Doyen  was  at  work  on  a  large  painting,  representing  the  break  of  day.  His 
Majesty,  who  happened  to  be  in  a  charming  humour,  looked  over  the  artist's 
work,  and  desired  to  know  .the  meaning  of  a  group  of  figures  placed  behind 
the  Hours.  '  Sire,'  replied  the  painter,  '  they  are  the  half-hours  ;  and  when 
Prince  YousoupofF  honours  me  with  a  visit,  I  am  tempted  to  change  them 
into  minutes/  This  whimsical  complaint  amused  the  Emperor  ;.  and  to  amuse 
him  was  to  gain  his  good-will.  The  director-general  was  visited  with  the 
imperial  rebuke,  and  the  painter  was  thenceforward  left  to  follow  his  avoca- 
tions in  tranquillity. 

"  On  another  occasion,  Doyen  being  occupied  with  a  painting  representing 
a  passage  in  the  life  of  Pericles  and  of  the  philosopher  Anaxagoras,  Paul 
demanded  the  name  of  the  latter  personage ; — '  Epaminondas/  replied  the 
painter. — '  You  are  mistaken,  Doyen,'  said  the  Emperor ;  *  you  mean  Anaxa- 
goras/— (  Sire/  said  the  waggish  artist,  '  you  are  right ; — I  never  recollect 
names  ;  my  memory  begins  to  fail ; — my  lamp  is  nearly  extinguished  for  want 
of  oil/  The  Emperor  took  the  hint.  On  the  same  evening,  he  sent  the  painter 
6,000  roubles  (about  £1,000.)  under  an  envelope,  on  which  was  written  with 
his  own  hand,  *  Oil  for  M.  Doyen's  lamp/  A  few  days  afterwards,  Paul, 
accompanied  by  some  of  his  courtiers,  met  the  painter  in  the  public  gardens, 
and  immediately  accosted  him  ; — '  Well,  Doyen/  said  he,  '  is  your  sight 
improved  ?' — '  Ah,  Sire !'  replied  Doyen,  '  your  Majesty  is  the  most  skilful 
oculist  in  Europe/  " 

In  the  following  anecdote  the  author  pays  a  delicate  compliment  to 
Madame  de  Stael : — 

"  Madame  de  Stael  once  passed  the  evening  at  the  same  house  with  Ma- 
dame Svitchin,  to  whom  she  had  long  sought  an  introduction.  The  hostess, 
who  was  much  occupied  with  her  numerous  guests,  had  not  as  yet  taken  an 
opportunity  of  gratifying  her  wishes.  Madame  de  Stael,  at  length  tired  of 
waiting,  without  further  ceremony  left  her  chair,  and  went  straight  to  Madame 
Svitchin,  whom  she  thus  accosted  in  a  tone  of  friendly  reproach  : — '  It  seems, 
Madame  Svitchin,  you  are  by  no  means  anxious  for  my  acquaintance  ?' — 
(  Madame/  replied  the  latter,  '  sovereigns  always  make  the  first  ad- 
vances/ 

The  facility  and  purity  with  which  the  Russians  speak  most  of  the 
continental  languages  is  universally  acknowledged.  Singular  as  the  fact 
may  appear,  the  well-educated  portion  of  society  in  Russia  are  frequently 
better  acquainted  with  the  French  than  with  their  native  tongue.  With 
regard  to  the  variety  of  languages  spoken  by  the  barbarians  of  the 
north,  as  they  have  been  erroneously  called,  we  have  the  following  anec- 
dotes : — 

M.M.  NewSeries.—VoL.'Z.  No,  f>9.  4  C 


•~>7(J  PtfeffburgJt,  Moscow,  and  the  Provinces.  £Nov. 

^  "  A  Russian  lady,  being  engaged  to  dinner  with  M.  de  Talleyrand,  at  that 
time  minister  for  foreign  affairs,  was  detained  a  full  hour  by  some  unexpected 
accident.  The  famished  guests  grumbled,  and  looked  at  their  watches.  On 
the  lady's  entrance,  one  of  the  company  observed  to  his  neighbour  in  Greek, 
— '  When  a  woman  is  neither  young  nor  handsome,  she  ought  to  arrive 
betimes.'  The  lady,  turning  round  sharply,  accosted  the  satirist  in  the  same 
language ; — '  When  a  woman/  says  she,  '  has  the  misfortune  to  dine  with 
savages,  she  always  arrives  too  soon/ 

"  An  American  ambassador  having  been  presented  to  the  reigning  empress, 
her  majesty  addressed  him  in  English,  which  she  spoke  in  perfection.  At  the 
close  of  the  audience,  the  delighted  envoy  exclaimed  to  the  courtier  who  had 
introduced  him, — (  What  a  charming  woman  !  how  admirably  she  speaks 
English!  To  what  country  does  she  belong?' — '  Germany.' — (  Indeed!  I 
should  have  supposed  her  English ;  she  speaks  the  language  so  well !  And 
of  what  family  is  she  ?' — '  Of  the  house  of  Baden.' — '  What  an  amiable,  sen- 
sible woman  !  Speaks  English  with  as  much  purity  as  if  she  had  been  born 
at  Boston !'  And  the  worthy  envoy  took  his  departure,  wholly  blind  to  the 
rank,  wit,  and  graces  of  the  empress.  The  only  circumstance  which 
impressed  him  was  her  acquaintance  with  his  language — an  acquirement 
which,  in  his  opinion,  outweighed  all  others." 

The  author's  amour-propre  leads  him  to  enlarge  on  the  preference 
shewn  by  the  Russians  to  the  French  language.  This,  however,  is  a 
pardonable  instance  of  vanity.  On  this  subject  we  have  a  little  anecdote 
of  our  own.  A  Spanish  linguist,  discussing  the  merits  of  different  lan- 
guages, observed,  that  were  he  to  choose,  he  would  address  his  valet  in 
French,  his  horse  in  German,  his  mistress  in  Italian,  and  his  Creator  in 
Spanish. 

"  A  lady  being  once  taken  to  task  for  her  exclusive  partiality  for  the  French 
language, — '  If  the  people  in  the  moon,"  said  she,  '  have  tongues,  I  am  quite 
convinced  they  must  speak  in  good  Parisian ;  and  I  have  little  doubt  but  that, 
in  two  hundred  years  hence,  Moliere's  Tartuffe  will  be  performed  in  the 
capital  of  China,  where  Perigord  pies  will  be  eaten,  and  paid  for  with  French 
louis-d'or.'  " 

We  have  some  anecdotes  with  regard  to  the  superstition  of  the  Rus- 
sians : — 

"  When  a  Russian  peasant  imagines  that  his  cattle  are  of  an  unlucky 
colour,  no  persuasion  can  prevent  him  from  changing  them.  This  supersti- 
tious fancy  extends  even  to  his  poultry  ;  and  it  is  by  no  means  uncommon  to 
see  the  hens,  ducks,  and  geese  in  a  farm-yard  all  of  the  same  monotonous  hue. 
When  such  is  the  case,  should  the  peasant  receive  a  present  of  a  cow,  differing 
in  colour  from  the  rest  of  his  live  stock  only  by  the  shade  of  a  single  hair,  the 
animal  would  be  sold  on  the  instant,  to  prevent  mischief  from  befalling  the 
remainder  of  his  herd." 

"  Prince  Belloselsky  possesses  to  an  eminent  degree  the  talent  of  telling  a 
ghost-story.  At  a  large  party,  one  evening,  the  ladies  drew  their  chairs 
around  him,  and  exclaimed,  (  Do,  Prince,  terrify  us  a  little.'  Upon  this, 
the  prince  ordered  the  lights  to  be  extinguished,  with  the  exception  of  one, 
which  was  left  burning  in  an  adjoining  apartment,  the  door  of  which  remained 
ajar.  The  narrator  commenced  his  tale,  which  turned,  as  might  be  expected, 
upon  the  apparition  of  a  horrid  phantom,  advancing  slowly,  in  the  midst  of 
darkness  visible,  towards  a  person  in  bed.  For  the  last  ten  minutes,  the  prince 
had  kept  his  hand  extended  on  a  marble  table:  his  voice  assumed  a  sepulchral 
tone.  All  at  once,  he  applied  his  icy  hand  upon  the  bare  arm  of  his  hostess, 
who  uttered  a  piercing  scream.  The  terrified  auditors  rushed  into  the  other 
room,  and,  in  their  confusion,  extinguished  the  solitary  light.  The  sudden 
darkness  redoubled  their  panic.  At  last  the  servants  made  their  appearance 
with  flambeaux  ;  and  the  prince,  who  began  to  be  alarmed  at  the  success  of 
his  experiment,  succeeded  with  some  difiiculty  in  calming  the  apprehensions 


1830.]  Pelersburgh,  Moscow,  and  the  Provinces.  571 

of  his   fair   audience.     '  Ladies/  said   he,    <  'tis   all    your   own   fault :    you 
requested  me  to  terrify  you  a  little, — and  I  like  to  make  myself  agreeable.'  " 

The  author  gallantly  takes  up  the  cudgels  in  defence  of  the  Cossacks, 
who,  he  considerately  assures  us,  were  by  no  means  such  fee-faw-fum 
guests  as  might  be  imagined — 

"  In  1814,  a  Cossack  general  arrived  in  a  little  village,  at  the  head  of  eight 
hundred  Calmucks.  The  savage  air  of  these  troops, — their  hair  floating  over 
their  eyes, — their  long  beards  descending  to  their  waists, — the  sorry  appear- 
ance of  their  steeds,  which  look  worse  than  they  are, — these  various  circum- 
stances contributed  not  a  little  to  the  alarm  of  the  peasantry.  The  Russian 
general  perceived  that,  in  the  house  on  which  he  was  billeted,  his  hosts 
eagerly  withdrew  their  young  children  from  his  sight.  Mortified  by  their 
absurd  precautions,  he  determined  to  retaliate ;  and  when  the  servant 
requested  to  know  what  he  would  have  for  supper, — '  Bring  me  a  couple  of 
children  a  la  broche,'  said  the  general,  e  but  let  them  be  plump  and  tender.' 
Then,  accosting  his  hosts  with  gaiety  and  politeness, — f  Excuse  the  jest,'  said 
he,  '  the  idea  of  which  has  been  inspired  by  your  fantastic  terrors.  Let  me 
assure  you  that  a  beard  is  not  an  infallible  symptom  of  ferocity.  I  have  seen 
many  a  smooth  visage  less  worthy  to  be  trusted  than  those  of  my  rough  Cal- 
mucks. Recollect  your  national  proverb  :  I'habit  ne  fait  pas  le  moine.'  " 

The  devotion  of  Napoleon's  partizans  has  formed  the  subject  of 
various  anecdotes,  true  or  false.  The  following  gives  a  ludicrous  sample 
of  sturdy  uncompromising  Bonaparteism:  — 

"  A  courtier  of  the  imperial  regime,  conversing  with  some  ladies  who  obsti- 
nately refused  to  share  his  admiration  for  the  emperor,  expressed  his  over- 
flowing zeal  in  rather  a  novel  manner.  '  Ladies,'  said  he,  '  I  have  such  per- 
fect confidence  in  the  emperor,  that  were  he  to  call  me  knave,  I  might  at  first 
humbly  remonstrate :  but  were  he  a  second  time  to  say,  with  an  air  of  con- 
viction, '  I  assure  thee,  thou  art  a  knave  !' — As  I  am  a  man  of  honour,  I  would 
take  his  majesty's  word  for  it !'  " 

"  Lately,  at  a  dinner  party,  an  Englishman  had  the  misfortune  to  spill  a 
bottle  of  wine  on  the  table,  which  was  half  covered  with  the  purple  stream. 
The  Amphytrion  having  petulantly  demanded  if  that  mode  was  customary  in 
England — '  No,'  replied  the  Englishman,  with  phlegm ;  '  but  when  such  an 
accident  does  happen,  it  is  customary  to  let  it  pass  without  remark.'" 

"  Several  of  Catherine's  generals  having  been  repulsed  and  beaten  by  the 
Turks,  the  empress,  who  was  superior  to  childish  considerations  of  resent- 
ment, resolved  to  entrust  the  command  to  Count  Romantzoff,  who  had  been 
for  some  time  in  disgrace.  For  that  purpose,  Catherine  forwarded  to  the 
veteran  a  letter,  couched  in  the  following  terms  :  '  Count  RomaritzofF, — I 
know  that  you  dislike  me ;  but  you  are  a  Russian,  and  consequently  must 
desire  to  combat  the  enemies  of  your  country.  Preserve  your  hatred  to  me, 
if  it  be  necessary  for  the  satisfaction  of  your  heart;  but  conquer  the  Turks. 
I  give  you  the  command  of  my  army.'  The  letter  was  accompanied  by  20,000 
roubles,  for  the  expenses  of  the  general's  military  equipments.  Romantzoff 
triumphed  over  the  Turks ;  and,  on  his  return  from  the  campaign,  the  Czarine, 
dressed  in  a  military  uniform,  proceeded  to  meet  him.  The  general  arrived, 
escorted  by  his  staff.  Catherine  alighted,  and  advancing  to  Romantzoff, 
forbade  him  to  dismount.  '  General,'  said  she,  f  'tis  my  place  to  make  the 
first  advances  to  the  heroic  defender  of  my  country.'  Romantzoff  burst  into 
tears,  threw  himself  at  his  sovereign's  feet,  and  ever  afterwards  was  one  of 
Catherine's  most  zealous  partizans." 

For  the  present  we  take  leave  of  M.  Dupre  St.  Maure.  Fastidious 
criticism  might  perhaps  object  that  he  draws  too  liberally  on  his  stores 
of  anecdote.  This,  however,  if  it  be  a  fault,  is  one  inherent  in  the  cha- 
racter of  the  French  literature  of  the  present  day. 

4  C  2 


[    r»72    1  [Nov/ 

APHOllISMS    ON    MAN,    BY    THE    LATE    WILLIAM    IIAZL1TT. 
[Continued  from  last  Month.} 

XII. 

EVERY  one  is  a  hero,  the  circumstances  being  given.  All  that  is  neces- 
sary is,  that  the  outward  impression  should  be  so  strong  as  to  make  a 
man  forget  himself.  A  woman  rushes  into  the  flames  to  save  her  child, 
not  from  duty  or  reason — but  because  the  distracting  terror  for  another 
banishes  all  recollection  of,  and  fear  for,  herself.  For  the  same  reason, 
a  person  throws  himself  from  a  precipice,  because  the  apprehension  of 
danger  gets  the  better  of  and  confounds  the  sense  of  self-preservation. 
The  doctrine  of  self-love,  as  an  infallible  metaphysical  principle  of  action, 
is  nonsense. 

XIII. 

The  heroical  ages  were  those  in  which  there  was  a  constant  question 
between  life  and  death,  and  men  ate  their  scanty  meal  with  their  swords 
in  their  hands. 

XIV. 

The  hero  acts  from  outward  impulse ;  the  martyr  from  internal  faith, 
and  so  far  is  the  greater  character  of  the  two.  And  yet  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  the  latter  is  properly  a  voluntary  agent,  or  whether, 
if  he  could  do  it  unperceived,  he  would  not  abstract  himself  from  the 
scene,  instead  of  becoming  a  sacrifice  and  a  witness  to  the  truth. 

XV. 

What  shews  that  persecution  and  danger  act  as  incentives  rather  than 
impediments  to  the  will,  is  that  zeal  generally  goes  out  with  the  fires  that 
kindle  it ;  and  we  become  indifferent  to  a  cause,  when  life,  property, 
and  limb  are  no  longer  endangered.  He  is  the  real  philosopher  who 
loves  truth  for  its  own  sake,  not  in  the  spirit  of  contradiction  :  he  the 
genuine  friend  of  freedom  and  justice,  who  hates  oppression  and 
wrong  after  they  have  ceased,  and  as  long  as  the  very  name  of  them 
remains,  as  well  as  while  it  is  a  bone  of  contention  between  infuriated 
sects  and  parties. 

XVI. 

If  reform  were  to  gain  the  day,  reform  would  become  as  vulgar  as  cant 
of  any  other  kind.  We  only  shew  a  spirit  of  independence  and  resistance 
to  power,  as  long  as  power  is  against  us.  As  soon  as  the  cause  of  oppo- 
sition prevails,  its  essence  and  character  are  gone  out  of  it ;  and  the 
most  flagrant  radicalism  degenerates  into  the  tamest  servility.  We  then 
say  as  others  say ;  sail  with  the  stream ;  no  longer  sacrifice  interest  to 
principle,  but  are  in  a  pitiful  majority.  Had  events  taken  a  different 
turn  in  1794,  who  can  predict  what  the  popular  cry  would  have  been? 
This  may  point  out  how  little  chance  there  is  of  any  great  improvement 
in  the  affairs  of  the  world.  Virtue  ceases  with  difficulty;  honesty  is 
militant.  The  mass  of  mankind,  who  are  governed  by  indolence  and 
habit,  fall  in  with  existing  events  and  interests;  the  imaginative  and 
reasoning  part  fall  out  with  facts  and  reality ;  but  could  they  have  their 
way,  and  model  the  world  at  their  pleasure,  their  occupation  would  be 
gone ;  or  if  all  governments  were  wise  and  good,  the  character  of  the 
patriot  would  become  obsolete,  and  a  sinecure.  At  present  there  is  a 


1830.]  Aphorisms  on  Man.  5 73 

very  convenient  division  of  labour ;  and  each  class  fulfils  its  vocation. 
It  is  essential  to  the  triumph  of  reform  that  it  should  never  succeed, 

XVII. 

We  talk  about  the  cant  of  politics  or  religion,  as  if  there  were  no  cant 
but  that  which  is  common  to  the  multitude.  But  whenever  any  two 
individuals  agree  about  any  one  thing,  they  begin  to  cant  about  it,  and 
take  the  echo  of  one  another's  voices  for  the  verdict  of  truth.  Half-a- 
dozen  persons  will  always  make  a  quorum  of  credulity  and  vulgarity. 

XVIII. 

When  people  have  done  quarrelling  about  one  set  of  questions  they 
start  another.  Motion  is  necessary  to  mind  as  much  as  to  matter  ;  and 
for  "an  ultimate  end/'  Hobbes  denies  that  there  is  any  such  thing. 
Hence  the  tendency  to  all  Ultra  opinions  and  measures  !  Man  is  seldom 
contented  to  go  as  far  as  others,  unless  he  can  go  beyond  them,  and  make 
a  caricature  and  a  paradox  even  of  the  most  vulgar  prejudice.  It  is. 
necessary  to  aim  at  some  kind  of  distinction — to  create  some  difficulty, 
were  it  only  for  the  sake  of  overcoming  it.  Thus  we  find  that  O'Connell, 
having  carried  his  cause,  would  not  let  the  (e  agitation"  subside  without 
turning  it  into  a  personal  quarrel :  the  way  was  opened  to  him  into  the 
House,  and  he  wanted  to  force  his  way  there  by  an  ex  post  facto  inference; 
the  banns  of  marriage  were  published  between  him  and  parliament,  and  he 
would  fain,  with  the  petulance  of  opposition,  seize  a  seat  there. 

XIX. 

Truth  itself  becomes  but  a  fashion.  When  all  the  world  acknowledge 
it,  it  seems  trite  and  stale.  It  is  tinged  by  the  coarse  medium 
through  which  it  passes. 

XX. 

Erasmus,  in  his  "  Remains,"  tells  a  story  of  two  thieves,  who  were 
recommended  by  their  mother  to  rob  every  one  they  met  with ;  but 
warned,  on  peril  of  their  lives,  to  avoid  one  Black-breeches  (Hercules). 
Meeting  him,  however,  without  knowing  him,  they  set  upon  him,  and  were 
slung  across  his  shoulder, — where  Hercules  heard  them  muttering  behind 
his  back,  a  long  way  off,  "This  must  surely  be  he  that  our  mother 
warned  us  of."  In  contempt  and  pity  he  let  them  escape.  What 
modern  wit  can  come  up  to  the  grotesque  grandeur  of  this  invention  ? 

XXI. 

People  addicted  to  secresy  are  so  without  knowing  why ;  they  are  so 
not  "  for  cause,"  but  for  secresy's  sake.  It  is  a  mixture  of  cowardice 
and  conceit.  They  think,  if  they  tell  you  any  thing,  you  may  under- 
stand it  better  than  they  do,  or  turn  it  in  some  way  against  them ;  but 
that  while  they  shut  up  their  mouths  they  are  wiser  than  you,  just  as 
liars  think  by  telling  you  a  falsehood  they  have  an  advantage  over  you. 
There  are  others  who  deal  in  significant  nods,  smiles,  and  half-sentences, 
so  that  you  never  can  get  at  their  meaning,  and  indeed  they  have  none, 
but  leave  it  to  you  to  put  what  interpretation  you  please  on  their  embryo 
hints  and  conceptions.  They  are  glad  to  find  a  proxy  for  their  want  of 
understanding. 


574  Aphorisms  on  Man.  [Nov. 

XXII. 

It  is  the  force  and  violence  of  the  English  mind  that  has  put  it  into 
the  safe  custody  of  the  law,  and  it  is  every  man's  disposition  to  act  upon 
his  own  judgment  and  presumption,  without  regard  to  others,  that  has 
made  it  absolutely  necessary  to  establish  equal  claims  to  curb  them. 
We  are  too  much  in  a  state  of  nature  to  submit  to  what  Burke  calls 
<e  the  soft  collar  of  social  esteem,"  and  require  "  the  iron  rod,  the  tor- 
turing hour,"  to  tame  us.  But  though  the  foundations  of  liberty,  life, 
and  property,  are  formally  secured  in  this  way  from  the  ebullitions  of 
national  character,  yet  the  spirit  breaks  out  upon  the  surface  of  manners, 
and  is  often  spurted  in  our  face.  Lord  Castlereagh  was  wrong  in  saying 
that  "liberty  was  merely  a  custom  of  England;"  it  is  the  indigenous 
growth  of  our  temper  and  our  clime  ;  and  woe  to  him  who  deprives  us 
of  the  only  amends  for  so  many  disadvantages  and  failings  !  The  wild 
beast  roaming  his  native  forests  is  respectable  though  formidable — shut 
up  in  Exeter  'Change,  he  is  equally  odious  and  wretched. 

XXIII. 

It  was  a  long  time  made  an  argument  for  not  throwing  open  the  gal- 
leries of  noblemen  and  others  to  the  public,  that  if  permission  were 
given  they  would  be  filled  with  the  lowest  of  the  rabble,  and  with 
squalid  wretches,  who  would  run  up  against  well-dressed  people,  and 
damage  the  works  of  art.  Nothing  could  be  more  false  than  this  theory, 
as  experience  has  shewn.  It  was  in  vain  to  quote  the  example  of  foreign 
countries,  as  it  was  said  the  common  people  there  were  kept  more  in 
subjection  ;  but  if  they  are  tamer,  ours  are  prouder  for  that  very  reason. 
The  National  Gallery  in  Pall-Mali  is  now  open  to  all  the  world ;  and, 
except  a  shabby  artist  or  two,  who  ever  saw  a  soul  there  who  was  not,  if 
not  well-dressed,  yet  dressed  in  his  best,  and  behaving  with  decency, 
instead  of  trying  to  turn  the  place  into  a  bear-garden,  as  had  been  pre- 
dicted.* People  will  not  go  out  of  their  way  to  see  pictures  unless  they 
have  an  interest  in  them,  which  gives  the  title,  and  is  a  security  against 
ill  consequences ;  much  less  will  any  class  of  people  obtrude  themselves 
wrhere  they  are  pointed  at  as  inferior  to  the  rest  of  the  company,  or  sub- 
ject themselves  to  looks  of  scorn  and  disgust,  to  see  any  sights  in  the 
world.  There  is  no  man  so  poor  or  low  but  he  loves  himself  better  than 
pictures  or  statues  ;  and  if  he  must  get  snubbed  and  treated  with  con- 
tempt to  indulge  his  admiration  of  celebrated  works,  he  will  forego  the 
latter.  Comparisons  are  odious ;  and  we  avoid  them.  The  first  object 
of  every  human  being  (high  or  low,  great  or  small)  is  to  stand  well  with 
himself,  and  to  appear  to  the  best  advantage  to  others.  A  man  is  not 
very  fond  of  passing  along  the  streets  in  a  thread-bare  coat,  and  shoes 
with  holes  in  them.  Will  he  go  in  this  trim  into  a  group  of  well-dressed 
people  to  make  himself  ridiculous  ?  The  mind,  so  far  from  being  dull 
or  callous  on  this  point,  is  but  too  sensitive ;  our  jealousy  of  public 
opinion  is  the  ruling  passion,  a  morbid  disease.  Does  not  the  conscious- 
ness of  any  singularity  or  impropriety  of  appearance  immediately  take 
off  from  our  pleasure  at  a  play  ?  How  seldom  we  observe  an  interloper 
in  the  dress  circle ;  and  how  sure  he  is  to  pay  for  it !  If  a  man  has  any 

*  If  it  were  a  show  of  wild-beasts,  or  a  boxing-match,  the  reasoning  might  be  somewhat 
different ;  though  I  do  not  know  that  it  would.  No  people  behave  better  than  the  yods 
after  the  play  once  begins. 


1830.]  Aphorism*  on  Man.  575 

defect  or  inferiority,  this  is  certain,  he  will  keep  it  in  the  back-ground 
If  a  chimney-sweeper  or  scavenger  had  a  ticket  to  a  ball,  would  he  go  ? 
Oh  !  no ;  it  is  enough  to  bear  the  sense  of  our  own  infirmity  and  dis- 
grace in  silence,  and  unnoticed,  without  having  it  wrought  to  agony  by 
the  glare  of  contrast  and  ostentation  of  insult !  What  linendraper  or 
grocer's  son  would  dine  with  a  prince  every  day  though  he  might,  to 
be  crushed  into  insignificance,  and  stifled  with  ironical  civility?  Do 
we  not  observe  the  difficulty  there  is  in  making  servants  and  mechanics 
sit  down,  or  keep  on  their  hats  in  speaking  to  their  betters,  for  fear  of 
being  thought  to  encroach,  and  made  liable  to  a  rebuff  in  consequence  ? 
Assuredly,  then,  the  great  may  throw  open  their  palace- doors  and  gal- 
leries of  art  without  having  to  dread  the  inroad  or  outrages  of  the  mob, 
or  fancying  that  any  one  will  go  who  is  not  qualified  to  appear,  or  will 
not  come  away  with  his  mind  and  manners  improved.  The  wooden  shoes 
and  mob  caps  in  the  Louvre  or  the  Vatican  do  no  harm  to  the  pictures 
on  the  walls  :  but  add  a  new  interest  to  them,  and  throw  a  pleasing  light 
on  human  nature.  If  we  are  behind  other  nations  in  politeness  and 
civilization,  the  best  way  to  overtake  them  is  to  tread  in  their  steps. 

XXIV. 

It  is  at  the  same  time  true  that  familiarity  breeds  contempt;  or  that  the 
vulgar,  if  admitted  to  an  intimacy  and  footing  of  equality,  try  to  make 
you  feel  all  your  defects,  and  to  pay  for  the  superiority  you  have  so  long 
usurped  over  them.  The  same  pride  that  before  kept  them  at  a  dis- 
tance makes  them  ready  to  throw  down  any  barrier  of  deference  or  dis- 
tinction the  moment  they  can  do  so  with  impunity.  No  one  willingly 
admits  a  superiority  in  another ;  or  does  not  secretly  prefer  himself  to 
the  whole  universe  beside.  The  slave  would  kill  the  tyrant,  whose  feet 
he  kisses  ;  and  there  is  no  Turk  so  loyal  that  he  would  not  cut  off  the 
head  of  the  best  of  Sultans,  if  he  was  sure  of  putting  the  diadem  upon 
his  own. 

XXV. 

The  strongest  minds  are  governed  more  by  appearances  than  by  a 
regard  to  consequences.  Those  who  pretend  to  be  the  greatest  calcu- 
lators of  their  own  interest,  or  the  main  chance,  are  the  very  slaves  of 
opinion,  and  dupes  of  shallow  pretension.  They  are  often  so  mad  in 
this  respect,  that  they  think  neither  better  nor  worse  of  the  oldest  friend 
they  have  in  the  world  than  the  first  person  they  happen  to  be  in  com- 
pany with  does,  or  the  last  rumour  they  heard  gives  him  out.  Their 
circumspection  amounts  to  looking  three  ways  at  once,  and  missing  the 
right  point  of  view  at  last.  They  would  rather  speak  to  a  well-dressed 
fool  in  the  street  than  to  the  wisest  man  in  a  thread-bare  suit.  I  know 
an  author  who  succeeds  with  a  set  of  second-hand  thoughts  by  having 
a  coat  of  the  newest  cut ;  and  an  editor,  who  flourishes  about  the  town 
in  virtue  of  a  pair  of  green  spectacles.  Lay  out  all  you  are  worth  in 
decking  out  the  person  of  a  vulgar  woman,  and  she  will  cut  you  in  the 
very  finery  you  have  given  her ;  lay  it  out  on  your  own  back,  and  she 
will  be  ambitious  of  your  least  notice.  People  judge  of  you  not  from 
what  they  know,  but  from  the  impression  you  make  on  others,  which 
depends  chiefly  on  professions,  and  on  outward  bearing  and  bravery. 
DC  non  apparentibus  et  non  cxistentibns  cadem  est  ratio.  If  a  man  has  no 
opinion  of  himself,  how  the  deuce  should  any  one  else.  It  is  like  elect- 


.~>7<>  Aphorisms  on  Man.  [Nov. 

ing  a  person  member  of  parliament  who  refuses  to  come  forward  as  a 
candidate.  On  the  other  hand,  let  a  man  have  impudence  in  lieu  of  all 
other  qualifications,  and  he  needs  not  despair.  The  part  of  quack  or 
coxcomb  is  a  favourite  one  with  the  town.  The  only  character  that  is 
likely  to  get  on  by  passing  for  a  poor  creature  is  the  legacy-hunter. 
Nothing  can  be  too  low  or  insignificant  for  that.  A  man  is  only  grate- 
ful to  you  in  the  other  world  for  having  been  a  foil  to  him  in  this.  A 
miser  (if  he  could)  would  leave  his  fortune  to  his  dog,  that  no  human 
being  might  be  the  better  for  it,  or  no  one  that  he  could  envy  in  the 
possession  of  it,  or  think  raised  to  an  equality  with  himself. 

XXVI. 

We  complain  of  old  friends  who  have  made  their  fortunes  in  the  world 
and  slighted  us  in  their  prosperity,  without  considering  those  who  have 
been  unsuccessful,  and  whom  we  have  neglected  in  our  turn.  When 
our  friends  betray  or  desert  us,  we  cling  the  closer  to  those  that  remain. 
Our  confidence  is  strengthened  by  being  circumscribed  ;  we  do  not  wish 
to  give  up  a  forlorn  hope.  With  the  crumbling  and  decayed  fragments 
of  friendship  around  us,  we  maintain  our  point  to  the  last ;  like  the 
cobbler,  who  kept  his  stall  and  cooked  his  beef-steak  in  the  ruins  of 
Drury-lane.  Buonaparte  used  to  speak  of  old  generals  and  favourites 
who  would  not  have  abandoned  him  in  his  misfortunes  if  they  had  lived ; 
it  was  perhaps  well  for  them  that  they  were  dead.  The  list  of  traitors 
and  the  ungrateful  is  too  much  swelled  without  any  probable  additions 
to  it. 

XXVII. 

When  we  hear  of  any  base  or  shocking  action  or  character,  we  think 
the  better  of  ourselves ;  instead  of  which,  we  ought  to  think  the  worse. 
It  strikes  at  the  grounds  of  our  faith  in  human  nature.  The  reflection 
of  the  old  divine  was  wiser  on  seeing  a  reprobate — "  There  goes  my 
wicked  self!" 

XXVIII. 

Over-civility  generally  ends  in  impertinence ;  for  as  it  proceeds  from 
design,  and  not  from  any  kindness  or  respect,  it  ceases  with  its  object. 

XXIX. 

I  am  acquainted  with  but  one  person,  of  whom  I  feel  quite  sure  that 
if  he  were  to  meet  an  old  and  tried  friend  in  the  street,  he  would  go  up 
and  speak  to  him  in  the  same  manner,  whether  in  the  interim  he  had 
become  a  lord  or  a  beggar.  Upon  reflection,  I  may  add  a  second  to  the 
list.  Such  is  my  estimate  of  the  permanence  and  sincerity  of  our  most 
boasted  virtues.  "  To  be  honest  as  this  world  goes,  is  to  be  one  man 
picked  out  of  ten  thousand." 

XXX. 

It  has  been  said  that  family  attachments  are  the  only  ones  that  stand 
the  test  of  adversity,  because  the  disgrace  or  misfortune  is  there  in  some 
measure  reflected  upon  ourselves.  A  friend  is  no  longer  a  friend,  pro- 
vided we  choose  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  him ;  but  we  cannot  so  easily 
cut  the  link  of  relationship  asunder.  We  therefore  relieve  the  distresses 
of  our  near  relations,  or  get  them  out  of  the  way,  lest  they  should  shame 
us.  But  the  sentiment  is  unnatural,  and  therefore  must  be  untrue. 


1830.]  Aphorisms  on  Man.  577 

XXXI. 

L said  of  some  monkeys  at  a  fair,  that  we  were  ashamed  of  their 

resemblance  to  ourselves  on  the  same  principle  that  we  avoided  poor 
relations. 

XXXII. 

Servants  and  others  who  consult  only  their  ease  and  convenience, 
give  a  great  deal  of  trouble  by  their  carelessness  and  profligacy  •  those 
who  take  a  pride  in  their  work  often  carry  it  to  excess,  and  plague  you 
with  constant  advice  and  interference.  Their  duty  gets  so  much  a-head 
in  their  imagination,  that  it  becomes  their  master,  and  your's  too. 

XXXIII. 

There  are  persons  who  are  never  easy  unless  they  are  putting  your 
books  or  papers  in  order,  that  is,  according  to  their  notions  of  the  mat- 
ter ;  and  hide  things  lest  they  should  be  lost,  where  neither  the  owner 
nor  any  body  else  can  find  them.  This  is  a  sort  of  magpie  faculty.  If 
any  thing  is  left  where  you  want  it,  it  is  called  making  a  litter.  There  is 
a  pedantry  in  housewifery  as  in  the  gravest  concerns.  Abraham  Tucker 
complained  that  whenever  his  maid-servant  had  been  in  his  library,  he 
could  not  set  comfortably  to  work  again  for  several  days. 

XXXIV. 

True  misanthropy  consists  not  in  pointing  out  the  faults  and  follies 
of  men,  but  in  encouraging  them  in  the  pursuit.  They  who  wish  well 
to  their  fellow- creatures  are  angry  at  their  vices  and  sore  at  their  mis- 
haps ;  he  who  flatters  their  errors  and  smiles  at  their  ruin  is  their  worst 
enemy.  But  men  like  the  sycophant  better  than  the  plain-dealer, 
because  they  prefer  their  passions  to  their  reason,  and  even  to  their 
interest. 

XXXV. 

I  am  not  very  patriotic  in  my  notions,  nor  prejudiced  in  favour  of  my 
own  countrymen  ;  and  one  reason  is,  I  wish  to  have  as  good  an  opinion 
as  I  can  of  human  nature  in  general.  If  we  are  the  paragons  that  some 
people  would  make  us  out,  what  must  the  rest  of  the  world  be  ?  If  we 
monopolize  all  the  sense  and  virtue  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  we  "  leave 
others  poor  indeed,"  without  having  a  very  great  superabundance  falling 
to  our  own  share.  Let  them  have  a  few  advantages  that  we  have  not—- 
grapes and  the  sun ! 

XXXVI. 

When  the  Persian  ambassador  was  at  Edinburgh,  an  old  Presbyterian 
lady,  more  full  of  zeal  than  discretion,  fell  upon  him  for  his  idolatrous 
belief,  and  said,  "  I  hear  you  worship  the  sun !" — "  In  faith,  Madam," 
he  replied,  "  and  so  would  you  too  if  you  had  ever  seen  him !" 


M.M.  New  &?n>j— VOL.  X.  No.  59.  4  0 


[  578  ]  [Nov. 

NOTES  OF  THE  MONTH  ON  AFFAIRS  IN  GENERAL. 

Our  respect  for  the  principles  of  his  Majesty's  ministers  at  all  times 
and  places,  is  so  thoroughly  exhibited  in  every  thing  we  do,  that  we 
might  pass  over  even  the  happiest  opportunity  of  giving  it  a  new  testi- 
fication. But  when  two  such  names  come  together  as  the  Premier  and 
Dr.  Philpotts,  two  such  eminent  friends  to  the  constitution,  two  such 
staunch  abiders  by  their  principles,  we  cannot  refrain  from  calling  the 
public  eye  to  the  evidence  of  our  admiration.  However,  another  has 
spoken  too  well  on  the  point  to  suffer  our  feebleness  to  interfere ;  and  we 
shall  allow  the  Rev.  J.  P.  Jones,  the  President  of  L 3rd  Ebrington's  elec- 
tion dinner,  to  say  all  that  is  to  be  said  on  the  occasion. 

Lord  Ebrington  was  invited  to  dine  at  Teignmoutji  on  the  21st  of 
October,  and  came  into  the  town  in  triumph,  the  people  carrying  branches 
of  laurel,  and  so  forth.  Lord  Ebrington  is  a  whig,  but  this  we  pardon 
in  a  lord ;  he  is  not  to  be  expected  to  know  much  upon  the  subject; 
and  probably  means  no  more  by  it,  than  that  he  can  get  his  cutlet  at 
Brookes's  any  day  in  the  season,  and  have  all  the  newspapers  to  look 
over  in  the  bay  window.  But  he  is  a  goose  in  other  points  :  for  he  made 
the  people  no  speech  from  the  window  of  the  inn  ;  and  as  they  had 
expected  something  to  make  them  laugh,  they  went  away  in  great 
sulkiness,  wondering  what  a  whig  could  be,  unless  he  was  a  talker  ;  and 
determined  to  carry  their  laurels  for  some  less  hidebound  orator  at 
the  next  election.  The  consequence  of  his  Lordship's  patrician  dryness 
was,  that  the  populace  would  not  go  to  his  dinner ;  and  he  had  accord- 
ingly that  kind  of  muster  which  makes  a  man  unpopular  with  his  land- 
lord. 

But  there  was  one  speech  which  was  wrorth  listening  to,  even  if  the 
Speaker  were  of  the  Whig  Club.  The  Rev.  Chairman  said — 

"  There  is  however  one  point  to  which  I  wish  to  call  the  attention  of 
the  meeting,  and  that  is  the  appointment  of  Dr.  Philpotts  to  the  see  of 
Exeter.  I  entertained  a  pure  respect  for  Dr.  Carey,  and  likewise  for 
Dr.  Bethel,  but  I  consider  it  to  be  a  complete  insult  to  the  county  of 
Devon  to  bring  down  a  political  renegade  from  Durham,  to  fill  the  see 
of  Exeter :  a  mere  adventurer,  who  abused  Mr.  Canning  for  his  attach- 
ment to  the  Catholic  cause,  and  then  turned  and  went  to  Oxford  to  sup- 
port Mr.  Peel,  when  the  ministry  determined  to  carry  that  question — 
for  which  he  has  got  a  bishoprick.  If  indeed  this  wretched  apostate  has 
got  a  bishoprick  for  ratting,  I  think  I  ought  to  have  an  archbishoprick 
for  being  consistent.  This  man  has  taken  all  sides  and  has  got  a  mitre  ! 
What  greater  disgrace  can  be  thrown  on  the  Church  of  England  ?  I  hope 
my  noble  friend  will,  on  taking  his  seat,  support  some  measure  to  pre- 
vent those  translations,  for  within  three  months  we  have  had  three  bishops 
at  Exeter  !" 

We  have  not  heard  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Philpotts'  actual  elevation  to  the  holy 
rank  for  which  his  sincerity,  scorn  of  hypocrisy,  and  unsullied  honour, 
so  proudly  qualify  him.  We,  of  course,  altogether  disbelieve  the  tales 
that  the  malice  of  mankind  so  ingeniously  invent,  on  all  occasions  of  the 
good-fortune  of  a  man  born  for  glory.  Nobody  shall  ever  hear  us 
joining  in  those  cruel  calumnies.  On  the  contrary,  we  long  to  follow 
the  lead  of  that  panegyric  of  which  the  Canons,  honourable  and  reve- 
rend, of  all  cathedrals,  are  so  celebrated  for  giving  their  example  on 
every  new  translation.  If  we  should  see  in  the  address  of  those  distin- 


1830.]  Notes  of  the  Month  on  A  fain  in  General.  f>79 

guished  and  high-spirited  divines,  a  declaration  that  Dr.  Philpotts  is  the 
first  of  scholars  and  of  men,  the  most  immaculate  of  pamphleteers,  and 
the  most  unworldly  of  christians ;  if  the  Precentor  shall  call  him  St. 
Chrysostovn,  and  the  Dean  declare  him  St.  Paul,  no  man  shall  hear  our 
protest  j  if  his  chaplains  congratulate  mankind  on  the  addition  to  the 
bench,  and  the  whole  body  of  Canons  set  his  political  virtues  to  music, 
and  chaunt  them  in  place  of  the  obsolete  psalms  of  David ;  we  shall 
only  rejoice  that  merit  has  found  its  reward,  and  that,  though  the 
Bench  may  go  down,  a  Saint  of  the  first  water,  a  Philpotts,  is  sure  of 
an  elevation. 

Sir  Walter  Scott — long  may  he  live  and  write — has  again  set  the 
fashion  of  authorship,  and  his  Demonology  will  fill  all  the  portfolios  of 
"  all  the  talents"  with  ghosts.  Our  preachers  will  have  a  double  reason 
for  calling  this  a  visionary  world ;  and  Messrs.  Thompson  and  Fearon's 
grand  manufactory  on  Holborn  Hill,  v/ill  not  have  the  monopoly  of 
filling  the  popular  brains  with  spirits.  Demonology  will  henceforth 
take  its  place  among  the  "  Ologies"  that  form  so  essential  a  part  of  the 
education  of  any  girl  who  intends  to  be  married ;  and  spinsters  will 
defy  Satan,  from  mere  familiarity,  with  as  much  sangfroid  as  a  barrister 
in  full  practice  deals  with  him,  or  as  Mr.  T.  P.  Cooke  puts  on  his  black 
majesty's  visage,  and  revels  in  diabolism  and  blue  flames  at  the  Surrey 
theatre. 

Scotland,  by  right  divine,  has  the  privilege  of  all  the  real  ghosts,  and 
she  is  now  busy  with  that  ghost  episode,  a  prophetic  dream. 

<f  Henderson,  the  Murderer. — A  strange  tale  regarding  Henderson  is 
the  subject  of  conversation  at  Dunfermline.  On  the  day  of  the  culprit's 
birth  his  father,  who  is  a  respectable  man  in  his  own  humble  way, 
dreamed  that  he  saw  his  son,  grown  to  man's  estate,  go  through  all 
the  formalities  of  a  public  execution.  This  strange  vision  gave  him 
great  uneasiness  at  the  time,  and  the  impression  was  confirmed  in  the 
course  of  years  by  the  wild  recklessness  of  character  which  distinguished 
his  son.  It  was,  however,  the  hope  of  the  senior  Henderson  that,  as  he 
had  not  seen  the  end  of  the  rope  wherewith  the  criminal  seemed  to  be 
executed,  the  accomplishment  of  the  vision  would  not  take  place  during 
his  lifetime.  He  has  been  disappointed." 

WE  are  rejoiced  at  the  arrival  of  an  illustrious  person,  who  has  deprived 
England  of  his  presence  for  the  last  ten  years ;  our  dearly  beloved 
Florentine  ambassador,  the  son  of  that  dearly  beloved  rat,  the  old  Lord 
Privy  Seal,  that  gayest  of  sinecurists,  brightest  of  senators,  and  most 
galloping  of  Hyde-Park  equestrians. 

f:  An  English  opera,  composed  by  Lord  Burghersh,  and  entitled 
'  Katherine,  or  the  Austrian  Captive/  is  in  rehearsal  by  the  pupils  of  the 
Royal  Academy  of  Music,  and  will  be  performed  by  them  in  the 
Concert-room  of  the  Italian  Opera." 

So,  his  lordship  is  not  idle.  He  has  brought  his  fiddle  with  him ; 
and  though  his  loss  must  throw  the  whole  fiddling  population  of  La 
bella  Fiorenza  into  despair,  and  the  Countess  Belqiojocoso  into  the 
delights  of  a  reign  unrivalled  by  her  ladyship  ;  though  poor  Lord  Nor- 
manby  must  carry  on  the  theatrical  campaign  alone,  and  do  the  duties 
of  a  British  senator  on  a  solitary  stage;  yet  we  must  congratulate 

4  D  2 


580  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [Nov. 

London  on  the  accession  of  a  Noble  composer,  and  the  people  on  (we 
hope)  the  cessation  of  his  salary  of  £4,000  a  year. 

What  would  the  laughing  world  do  without  Ireland  ?  We  are  not  now 
alluding  to  its  stock-absurdities,  the  barbarous  blue-stockingism  of  that 
exquisite  old  woman,  that  companion  of  princesses,  lecturer  of  potentates, 
and  chief  political  adviser  of  Monsieur  Lafayette,  Miladi  Morgan  !  nor 
to  the  other  meteors,  "  prominent,  publishing,  and  patriotic,"  of  the  Isle 
of  pikes,  emeralds,  and  popish  parliaments.  Our  allusion  is  to  that  gene- 
ral and  happy  faculty  which  seems  to  live  in  the  air,  and  which  is  as 
cutaneous  as  the  visitation  of  a  Scotchman — the  propensity  to  say  the 
direct  contrary  of  the  thing,  yet  not  in  the  Philpotts'  style,  but  with  the 
most  eager  wish  to  make  out  its  meaning  in  some  way  or  other.  Thus 
the  English  secretaries  and  lord  lieutenants  always  exhibit  the  national 
lapsus  linguae  within  the  first  twelve  hours  of  their  treading  the 
soil,  and  go  on  blundering  in  all  varieties  of  style,  until  their  five  years 
are  out,  and  they  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  blunder  home.  We  now  have 
this  announcement  under  the  authority  of  the  head  of  the  Percies : — 
f(  The  Lord  Lieutenant  has  offered  a  reward  of  200/.  for  the  assassin  who 
fired  at  William  Purefoy,  Esq.,  a  magistrate,  near  Tipperary,  with  in- 
tent to  kill  that  gentleman.  There  is  also  a  reward  of  100/.  offered  by 
his  Excellency  for  the  murderer  of  William  Dwyer,  near  Cappawhite,  in 
the  county  of  Tipperary." 

We  have  no  doubt  that  the  money  will  be  most  thankfully  received 
by  the  parties  in  question.  If  the  appropriation  of  such  sums  should  sur- 
prise John  Bull,  he  must  remember  that  at  Rome  one  must  do  as  they  do 
at  Rome  ;  that  popularity  is  of  importance  to  a  lord  lieutenant ;  and  that 
the  most  popular  thing  possible  is  to  encourage  the  only  manufacture  of 
the  country. 

George  Colman  has  failed  so  egregiously  in  writing  his  own  life,  that 
it  would  be  one  of  the  first  charities  of  generous  authorship  to  fabricate 
a  new  life  for  him,  write  him  over  again,  expunge  forty  of  his  sixty 
years,  and  turn  him  upon  the  world,  in  all  the  "  purple  light"  of  his 
original  virtue.  What  he  has  been  doing  in  the  forty,  we  cannot 
presume  to  conjecture,  but  we  never  suspected  him  of  being  too  much 
inclined  to  Methodism  in  the  worst  of  times !  But  what  he  is  about  to 
do  now,  baffles  us  more.  That  he  was  always  one  of  the  most  decorous 
individuals  possible,  we  never  doubted,  though  others  had  their  opinions 
on  that  subject  too.  But,  that  since  he  has  become  licenser  he  is  the 
beau  ideal  of  propriety,  who  can  deny  ?  Yet  the  newspapers  will  be 
stubborn;  and  they  revenge  themselves  on  the  saint,  with  even  more 
wrath  than  they  ever  did  on  the  sinner :  for  example — 

(<  Elderly  Purity. — George  Colman,  the  licenser,  it  seems,  is  going  it 
again.  Some  curious  anecdotes  relative  to  the  excisions  the  dramatic  licenser 
directed  to  be  made  in  Mr.  Wade's  tragedy,  are  told — the  result,  as  it 
should  seem,  of  a  new  code  of  theology  having  enlightened  the  mind  of 
that  egregious  '  gentleman  pensioner/  What  will  the  clergy  say, 
when  they  hear  that  Mr.  Colman  rigorously  forbids  all  mention,  not 
merely  of '  hell,'  but  heaven,  '  to  ears  polite  ?'  And  that,  so  far  from 
permitting  summary  condemnation  to  be  called  for  on  stage  villains,  he 
will  not  even  allow  a  blessing  to  be  begged  upon  their  opposites.  The 


1830.]  A/airs  in  General.  581 

hitherto  innocent,  not  to  say  laudable  exclamations  of  '  Heaven  bless 
you!'  '  Heaven  keep  your  grace ;'  and  so  forth,  are  high  crimes  and 
misdemeanours  in  the  critical  eyes  of  our  censor.  The  players,  who 
are  rather  a  reprobate  set,  are  thinking  of  going  back  to  *  'slives,' 
<  'sbloods,'  adopted  in  the  time  of  the  Puritans ;  for  swearing  in  some 
shape  or  other,  it  would  seem,  is  one  of  the  necessaries  of  stage  life.  It 
is  expected  that  Mr.  Colman  will  shortly  forbid  the  performance  of  his 
own  plays." 

The  accident  of  Huskisson's  death  has  thrown  a  covering  over  his 
politics  which  we  have  no  wish  to  remove.  Death,  that  breaks  ties,  also 
dissolves  hostilities  ;  and  whatever  may  be  the  resentment  for  a  slippery 
career,  when  a  sense  of  public  dignity  would  have  made  it  a  straight- 
forward one,  and  a  successful  one  too ;  no  sentiment  can  now  be  felt,  but 
of  pity  for  the  miserable  and  sudden  extinction  of  his  career.  An  in- 
stance is  mentioned  of  his  recording  the  absurdity  of  that  ambition, 
which,  in  the  highest  instance  of  human  talents  and  fortune,  only  be- 
trayed its  victim  to  shame  and  chains. 

When  he  was  in  office,  he  was  presented  with  the  chair  which  the 
exiled  Emperor  of  France  usually  occupied  during  his  dismal  sojourn  at 
Longwood.  On  this  relic  Mr.  Huskisson  appeared  to  set  a  great  value, 
and  a  place  was  appropriated  to  it  in  his  library.  He  had  also  a  small 
brass  plate  affixed  to  the  chair,  on  which  the  period  when  it  was  pre- 
sented to  him,  and  some  other  particulars,  were  engraved  ;  to  which  the 
following  lines  from  Byron's  Ode  to  Napoleon,  were  added : — 

"  Nor  till  thy  fall  could  mortals  guess 
Ambition's  less  than  nothingness." 

Yet,  with  this  unparalleled  lesson  before  his  eye,  he  suffered  himself 
to  be  the  instrument  of  men  altogether  inferior  to  himself,  to  seek  an 
unsatisfactory  power,  and  be  cast  out,  and  called  back  again,  by  the 
most  ridiculous  cabinet  that  ever  furnished  food  for  ridicule. 

It  is  considered  a  formidable  thing  to  be  mulcted  for  another  man's 
debts,  or  act  as  papa  to  another  man's  offspring.  Yet  what  are  those, 
to  the  calamity  of  fathering  another  man's  joke  ?  Gay  Rogers,  witty 
Luttrel,  and  rich  Lord  Alvanly,  are  at  present  the  universal  sufferers. 
Every  bad  pun,  intolerable  story,  and  ponderous  witticism  engendered 
within  the  bills  of  mortality,  is  as  regularly  laid  to  their  account,  as 
the  increase  of  indecorums  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Bow-street  is  laid 
to  the  account  of  that  greatest  of  lawyers,  Sir  Richard  Birnie.  The  most 
remorseless  jeux  d'esprit,  are  as  invariably  laid  to  their  charge,  as 
an  unowned  murder  to  the  first  Irishman  one  meets.  Exploded  jests 
come  back  on  their  hands,  as  habitually  as  Miss  Dolabella's  borrowed 
novels  come  back  to  the  circulating  library,  noted  and  pencilled  at  all 
the  elopements  and  Doctors'-Commons  descriptions ;  or  as  the  finery 
of  the  Easter  balls  reverts  to  Moorfields  ;  or  as  blind  puppies  find  their 
way  to  the  horse-pond  by  the  dozen  at  a  time.  We  look  upon  their 
state  of  existence  as  not  to  be  borne,  and  advise  a  prosecution,  and 
the  nailing  of  an  anti-nuisance  board  over  Lord  Alvanly 's  fair  fame — 
"  No  puns  to  be  perpetnited  here."  What  punishment,  for  instance, 
could  be  too  severe  for  the  aggressor  who  inflicted  the  injury,  of  the 
following  abomination  on  Lord  Alvanly  : — 


56-2  \otet  oft/u  Month  on  [Nov. 

t(  Who  is  Muggleton/1  said  a  friend  of  Lord  Alvanly's,  the  other  day  ; 
"  do  you  know  him  ?"  "  Yes/'  was  the  reply,  "  I  know  him,  but  he 
is  low  ;  a  fellow  who  muddles  away  his  property  in  paying  his  trades- 
men's bills." 

We  again  advise  law,  and  an  immediate  application  to  Sir  James — 
who  will  turn  it  into  a  libel,  if  the  thing  is  to  be  done  by  man. 

We  suppose  that  the  Emancipation  people  on  this  side  of  the  water 
are,  by  this  time,  getting  ready  their  eloquence  to  satisfy  the  wondering 
world  that  "  Conciliation"  has  done  its  work,  and  that  Ireland  is  per- 
fectly at  its  ease.  We  have  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Peel  will  be  of  that 
opinion.  He  will  give  a  sentence  or  two  to  blushes  and  regrets,  that 
"  faction  in  that  fine  country  should  not  be  more  decorous ;  but  he  will 
trust  and  hope,  the  natural  good  sense  of  the  people,  the  general  feeling 
of  the  truest  interests  of  Ireland,  which  has  always  distinguished  its 
patriots  ;  and  the  progress  of  time,  will  heal,  assuage,  soften,"  with  all 
the  rest  of  what  Dibdin  calls  palaver ;  in  short,  that  the  Right  Ho- 
nourable gentleman  is  just  as  wise,  sincere,  and  honourable,  as  he  was 
on  the  day  when  he  went  to  the  right-about,  and  voted  the  "  healing" 
measure. 

But  those  who  were  healed,  conciliated,  and  emancipated,  have  a 
different  idea  upon  the  subject ;  and  they  think  themselves  worse  off  than 
ever.  Hear  what  the  great  Agitator  has  to  say  for  the  state  of  "  Emanci- 
pated Ireland !" 

"  We  have  in  Ireland,  in  the  person  of  an  English  lord,  a  despot  the 
most  complete  in  Europe.  The  law  which  constitutes  this  despot  is  a 
barbarous  act  of  military  despotism — an  outrageous  exhibition  of  martial 
tyranny — the  force  of  the  cannon,  and  the  bayonet,  and  the  sabre, 
dragoons  and  military,  horse,  foot,  and  all — against  reason,  right,  and 
justice.  It  is  tyranny,  in  its  blackest,  foulest  shape.  The  insolent 
Englishman  wrho  used  it,  and  in  its  use  infringed  the  law,  may  talk  of 
his  prowess,  may  boast  of  his  duelling  propensities.  Oh,  would  to 
God  the  sacred  cause  of  freedom  were  between  us  ;  in  some  as  sacred 
conflict,  where  the  lover  of  his  country  and  of  Christian  charity  and 
peace,  might  appear  with  honour.  My  blood  boils  when  I  see  a  wretched 
English  scribe,  dare,  in  the  face  of  Heaven,  to  trample  down  the  people 
of  Ireland  with  his  iron  heel.  And  is  this  to  continue  ?  If  I  live,  it 
cannot  be — it  cannot  be.  It  is  an  audacious  insult  to  this  country  to 

have  framed  such  an  Act  of  Parliament." 

****** 

This  is  all  capital.  Not  very  new,  we  admit,  for  it  has  formed  the 
staple  of  Popish  oratory  for  the  last  thirty  years.  But  it  is  vigorous, 
and  shews  the  gratitude  of  the  people,  and  the  improvement  in  the 
"  agitator's"  patriotism  since  he  came  into  the  legislature.  But  we  must 
first  see  what  he  thinks  of  the  Irish  Government,  in  the  person  of  Sir 
Henry  Hardinge. 

"  I  arraign  that  paltry,  contemptible  little  English  soldier,  that  had 
the  audacity  to  put  his  pitiful  and  contemptible  name  to  an  atrocious 
Polignac  proclamation  ;  and  that,  too,  in  Ireland — in  my  country — in  this 
green  land— the  land  of  Brownlow — the  country  of  Grattan,  now  in  his 
grave— the  land  of  Charlemont  and  of  the  70,000  volunteers— the  heroes 
of  the  immortal  period  of  '82.  In  that  country  it  is  that  a  wretched 
English  scribe  (a  chance-child  of  fortune  and  of  war),  urged  on  by 


]830.]  Affairs  in  General.  583 

Iiis  paltry,  pitiful  lawyerlings,  puts  his  vile  name  to  his  paltry  proclama- 
tion putting  down  freemen.  I  would  rather  be  a  dog  and  bay  the  moon, 
than  the  Irishman  who  would  tamely  submit  to  so  infamous  a  procla- 
mation. I  have  not  opposed  it  hitherto,  because  that  would  implicate 
the  people,  and  give  our  enemies — the  English  Major-General  and  his 
lawyerling  staff — a  triumph.  But  I  will  oppose  it ;  and  that  too,  not 
in  the  way  that  the  paltry  Castle-scribe  would  wish — by  force.  No ; 
Ireland  is  not  in  a  state  for  repelling  force  by  force.  Too  short  a  period 
has  elapsed  since  the  cause  of  contention  between  Protestants  and 
Catholics  was  removed  ;  too  little  time  has  been  given  for  healing  the 
wounds  of  factious  contention,  to  allow  Ireland  to  use  physical  force 
in  the  attainment  of  her  rights,  or  the  punishment  of  wrong." 

This  too  is  capital.  The  abuse  thrown  on  the  Irish  secretary  is  so 
much  thrown  on  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  who  throws  it  on  the  English 
government,  who  put  it  up  among  their  memorials  of  the  grand  measure 
of  conciliation  ;  and  all  this  was  cheered  to  the  skies  by  a  full  audience. 
No  man  stepped  forward  to  doubt  a  syllable  of  it.  The  whole  was  as 
true  as  the  mass-book,  and  the  multitude  of  patriots  rejoiced  in  the  full 
declaration  of  their  sentiments.  Even  for  the  Parliament,  into  which, 
by  the  help  of  his  grace  of  Wellington,  and  Sir  Robert  Blifil  Peel,  he 
led  his  fellow  patriots,  his  admiration  is  not  too  enthusiastic.  His  ten- 
derest  word  for  it  is  the  "  rotten,  boroughmongering  Parliament." 

But  Sir  H.  Hardinge,  not  being  yet  accustomed  to  the  polish  of  the 
patriot  oratory,  was  boyish  enough  to  be  angry,  and  send  his  friend  the 
adjutant-general  to  ask,  whether  the  orator  were  more  mad,  drunk,  or 
patriotic,  when  he  drew  his  picture.  Colonel  D'Aguilar,  as  true  a  gen- 
tleman, and  as  gallant  an  officer  as  any  in  the  service,  performed  this  duty 
with  the  good  sense  characteristic  of  him ;  and  the  Grand  Agitator  was 
obliged  to  repeat,  for  the  fiftieth  time,  his  determination  to  use  his 
tongue  without  the  hazard  of  his  teeth.  He  fights  not ;  but,  as  he  says, 
reserves  himself  for  that  forthcoming  period  when  there  will  be  some- 
thing to  fight  for.  However,  this  shewy  style  was  not  comprehensible  ; 
and  a  pen  being  put  into  the  Agitator's  hand,  the  following  document 
appeared,  which  we  preserve  for  the  purpose  of  recording  in  the  archives 
of  this  country  for  ever. 

"  Mr.  O'Connell  does  not  feel  himself  called  on  either  to  avow  or  dis- 
avow any  thing  attributed  to  him  by  the  public  papers.  At  the  same 
time,  that  if  any  allegation  of  fact  be  pointed  out  to  him — attributed  to 
him — which  is  not  true,  he  will  readily  either  disavow  the  assertion  if 
untruly  attributed,  or  contradict  and  atone  in  every  way  possible  for  the 
allegation  if  he  made  use  of  it.  No  man  living  is  more  ready  than  Mr. 
O  Connell  to  disavow  and  atone  for  any  error  in  point  of  fact  which  he 
may  have  fallen  into.  Mr.  O'Connell  will  not  receive  any  kind  of  com- 
munication with  reference  to  a  duel.  He  utterly  disclaims  any  reference 
to  such  a  mode  of  proceeding,  be  the  consequences  of  such  disclaimer 
what  they  may,  repeating  his  readiness  to  retract  and  atone  for  any  fact 
alleged  by  him  not  founded  in  proof.  He  spoke  of  Sir  Henry  Har- 
dinge in  his  public  capacity,  as  an  instrument  of  despotism.  He  did  not 
say  one  word  of  him  in  his  private  capacity.  As  a  public  man,  he  did 
speak  of  Sir  Henry  as  he  would  of  any  other  man  who  trampled  on 
the  liberties  of  Irishmen ;  and  he  must  say,  that  fighting  a  duel  would 
be  a  bad  way  to  prove  that  Sir  Henry  was  right  or  Mr.  O'Connell 
wrong." 


584  Notes  of  the  Month  OK  [Nov. 

This  was  diplomatic  enough.  But  still  Colonel  D'Aguilar's  thickness 
of  brains  could  not  discover  how  this  soothed  the  matter,,  and  he  had  the 
barbarity  to  insist  on  the  Agitator's  swallowing  his  words,,  or  going  out 
to  that  field,  where  he  might  lose  the  glorious  opportunity  for  ever  of 
regenerating  his  country.  Finding,  at  last,  that  persuasion  was  out  of 
the  question,  the  Colonel  made  a  note  of  the  transaction,  in  the  follow- 
ing style : — 

"  Having  received  this  from  Mr.  O'Connell's  hand,  and  read  it  in  Mr. 
O'ConnelFs  presence,  it  only  remains  for  me  to  say.,  that  this  is  not  the 
disavowal  of  the  expressions  required  by  Sir  Henry  Hardinge :  and  I  do 
therefore,  in  that  gentleman's  name,  call  upon  Mr.  O'Connell  for  that 
satisfaction,  for  his  gross  and  intemperate  language,  which  is  due  from 
one  gentleman  to  another.  Mr.  O'Connell  having  heard  me  read  this 
aloud,  then  said'  Refused  already' — but  added,  in  his  own  hand- writing, 
c  in  addition  to  the  passage  I  marked  as  disavowed,  (viz.  a  chance-child 
of  fortune  and  of  war,)  I  disavow  using  the  words  hireling  scribe' 

"  GEORGE  D'AGUILAR." 

And  so  ends  this  fine  affair  : — the  great  agitator  having  been  compelled 
to  take  away  all  the  charm  of  the  abuse,  by  extracting  all  its  particu- 
larity, and  giving  to  the  world  nothing  but  those  general  notions  which 
the  Billingsgate  school  furnishes  to  all  its  professors  indiscriminately. 

We  object  too,  in  some  degree,  to  Sir  H.  Hardinge's  proceeding. 
He  ought  in  common  sense  to  have  let  the  hair-triggers  sleep.  It  is, 
to  be  sure,  hard  enough  to  be  called  names,  but  the  mouth  that  called 
them  takes  away  all  the  mischief.  As  secretary  he  ought  to  have 
disdained  any  further  notice  than  a  horsewhip  delegated  to  one  of  his 
footmen ;  which  we  think,  on  the  whole,  one  of  the  most  advisable  and 
natural  modes  of  writing  notes  on  the  grand  Agitator's  memory. 

Brighton  is  out  of  its  senses  with  joy.  All  the  world  of  fashion  and 
no  fashion  are  crowding  its  streets,  emptying  its  markets,  roving  its  toy- 
shops, lounging  in  its  libraries,  and  gazing  at  the  King  and  Queen. 
Long  may  they  enjoy  the  campaign.  But  certainly,  in  this  time  of 
foreign  trouble,  the  security,  comfort,  and  popular  zeal  that  surround 
his  Majesty,  are  a  fine  proof  of  the  difference  between  the  sovereignty 
of  slaves  and  of  freemen.  The  King's  domestic  circle  too  is  unrivalled. 
He  actually  enjoys  as  much  comfort  as  if  he  had  only  a  thousand  a  year, 
and  was  an  honest  country  gentleman,  with  his  family  circle  round  his 
fireside. 

"  '  Better  a  Little  where  Love  is,'  &c.— The  present  King,  since  he 
came  to  the  throne,  has  entertained  at  his  table  at  the  same  time,  with  the 
utmost  cordiality  and  affection — the  Queen,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland, 
the  Duke  of  Sussex,  the  Duke  of  Cambridge,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
Prince  Leopold,  Princess  Elizabeth,  Landgravine  of  Hesse  Homburg, 
Princess  Mary,  Duchess  of  Gloucester,  Princess  Sophia,  and  the 
Princess  Augusta." 

Nothing  better  could  be  enjoyed,  though  William  IV.  could  send  all  the 
newspaper  writers  to  the  galleys,  burn  all  the  presses,  and  order  every 
man  in  England  to  kiss  the  sole  of  his  shoe.  But  it  has  the  advantage 
of  being  likely  to  last  longer.  For  among  those  kissers  of  the  shoes  of 
sovereigns  there  are  found  from  time  to  time  bold  spirits  who  grow 
tired  of  the  ceremony,  and  settle  the  business  in  the  Russian  way.  A 
Sultan,  too,  is  not  the  most  certain  of  going  out  of  the  world  in  his  bed. 

1 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  585 

Freedom  is  the  safety  of  the  King  as  well  as  the  honour  of  the  people ; 
and  at  this  hour  the  King  of  the  freest  people  in  the  world  is  the  only 
one  who  has  a  security  of  sitting  on  his  throne  till  the  next  bathing 
season.  This  is  the  true  pride  of  England.  Her  faith,  her  honour,  and 
her  monarchy,  are  unchangeable. 

All  the  world  laughs  at  Boatswain  Smith,  and  probably  he  is  no  very 
classic  personage.  But  he  has  one  quality  which  is  worth  a  million, 
and  without  which  all  others  are  worth  nothing  for  public  success— he 
has  energy.  Here  is  a  rough  fellow,  who  talks  theology  like  a  sailor, 
and  whose  politeness  has  the  'fore-the-mast  finish;  yet  he  has  done, 
single-handed,  what  all  the  classics  and  common-halls  of  Oxford  could 
not  do.  He  is  building  a  church,  an  hospital,  and  half  a  dozen  other 
things,  out  of  the  dust :  and  Boatswain  Smith  may  ask,  which  of  my 
betters  has  done  more  ? 

"  The  Refuge  for  Destitute  Seamen. — This  building  is  now  rapidly 
rising  on  the  site  of  the  late  Brunswick  Theatre,  under  the  auspices  of 
the  Rev.  Boatswain  Smith.  The  workmen  employed  have  prayers  every 
morning  at  six  o'clock,  but  for  all  this  the  piety  of  some  of  them  is 
rather  questionable.  A  person  passing  that  way  saw  an  Irishman 
listening  very  attentively;  the  stranger  asked  him  if  he  were  not  a 
Catholic  ?  "  Yes,"  was  the  answer.  "  How  then,"  inquired  the  other, 

"  can  you  join  in  prayer  with  these  people  ?"  "  O,  by !"  replied 

the  labourer,  "  its  aster  work  than  cleaning  bricks  !" 

The  scourge  of  India  is  coming  into  Europe.  This  is  a  terror  which 
throws  all  others  into  eclipse.  The  cholera  will  make  all  the  revolu- 
tions child's  play,  if  it  can  once  fix  itself  in  Europe.  But  we  must  hope 
the  best ;  precautions  are  already  adopted  at  the  sea-ports  ;  the  quaran- 
tine laws  are  put  in  force  ;  and  we  may  be  assured  that  every  thing 
which  can  be  done  by  science  and  care  will  be  done.  England  has  not 
seen  any  extensive  epidemic  for  nearly  two  hundred  years ;  and  the 
habits  of  the  people  are  so  much  improved  within  that  period,  the  food 
is  so  much  better  and  more  plentiful,  medical  science  and  public  police 
are  so  superior,  that  we  should  now  meet  the  most  virulent  contagion 
with  comparative  safety.  However,  all  precautions  must  be  taken  ;  and 
we  are  glad  to  see  the  order  of  the  Privy  Council  directing  that  vessels 
from  infected  ports  shall  be  put  under  strict  supervision.  Lord  Heytes- 
bury's  (the  ambassador)  despatch  certainly  does  not  treat  the  matter 
with  lightness.  » 

"  St.  Petersburgh,  Sept.  15. — My  Lord, — The  accounts  of  the  pro- 
gress of  the  cholera-morbus  are  becoming  rather  alarming.  It  is  making 
rapid  advances  towards  Moscow  ;  it  is  already  at  Sinebiask,  Tyaritzigur, 
SaretafF,  and  Pewza.  At  Astrakhan,  the  governor  (Nisson)  and  almost* 
every  officer  of  police  have  perished,  and  the  other  deaths  are  at  the  rate 
of  about  100  daily.  If  the  disease  once  reaches  Moscow,  there  can  be 
little  doubt  that  it  will  spread  to  St.  Petersburgh,  Warsaw,  and  from 
thence  into  Germany.  This  will  be  much  less  extraordinary  than  its 
regular  progress  from  India  to  the  Caucasus,  and  from  thence  into  the 
southern  provinces  of  the  Russian  empire.  It  appears  to  be  of  a  very 
deadly  nature,  and  to  have  all  the  character  of  the  real  Indian  cholera. 
"  I  have  the  honour,  &c.  (Signed)  "  HEYTESBURY." 

"  The  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Aberdeen,  K.T." 

M.  M.  New  Series.—VoL.X.  No.  59.  4  E 


586  Xutvs  o/  the  Month  on  QNov. 

We  understand  that  accounts  have  been  received  subsequently,  stating 
that  the  disorder  had  reached  Moscow,  where  it  was  making  frightful 
ravages.  The  Russian  government  is  making  all  possible  efforts  to  stop 
its  progress.  Besides  directing  the  attention  of  medical  science  at  home 
to  the  subject,  a  large  reward  has  been  offered  in  foreign  countries  for 
the  discovery  of  any  effectual  mode  of  treatment. 

There  are  individuals  born  to  be  talked  of,  just  as  there  are  indi- 
viduals born,  like  Dr.  Philpotts,  to  be  rats  and  bishops ;  and  individuals 
born  to  be  pumped,  pijloried  and  hanged.  A  city  rector  is  seldom  a 
"  great  son  of  fame,"  and  the  London  smokes  are  rather  prejudicial 
to  the  growth  of  the  laurel ;  but  there  are  some,  whose  natural  turn 
for  reputation  cannot  be  restrained,  and  of  such  is  the  hero  of  the 
following  tale. 

"  A  Rev.  Doctor  in  the  City,  who  has  manifested  a  great  taste  for 
tithes,  and  whose  parishioners  have  the  pleasure  of  paying  two-and- 
ninepence  in  the  pound,  not  content  with  a  splendid  income,  takes  from 
his  Curate,  to  whom  he  gives  what  hardly  can  be  considered  good 
wages  by  a  journeyman  mechanic,  any  little  compliment  which  persons 
may  be  disposed  to  make  at  weddings  or  christenings,  even  though 
the  parties  should  be  his  own  personal  friends.  A  gentleman  some 
time  ago,  informed  of  this  amiable  trait,  determined,  on  the  occasion 

of  his  marriage,  to  be  a  match  for  Dr.  O — .  A  week  before  the 

happy  day,  a  dozen  of  wine  made  its  appearance  as  a  present  to  the 
Curate ;  who  did  not  think  the  bridegroom  particularly  shabby,  though 
at  last  he  gave  to  the  Rector  his  dues,  and  not  one  farthing  more." 

What  a  curious  book  might  be  written,  full  of  nothing  but  royal  inter- 
rogatories, at  this  moment. 

Ferdinand  of  Spain.  "  What  shall  I  do  with  the  Carlists,  the  Apos- 
tolicals,  the  Serviles,  the  Liberals,  the  freemasons,  the  exiles,  the 
patriots,  the  monks? — and  what  will  they  do  with  me  ?" 

Francis  of  Austria.  "  What  shall  I  do  with  the  Italians,  the  Hunga- 
rians, the  Jesuits,  the  monks,  or  with  Venice,  Trieste,  and  Dalmatia? — 
and  what  will  they  do  with  me?" 

Don  Miguel.  (l  What  shall  I  do  with  the  nobles,  the  priests,  the 
people,  my  brother,  my  troops,  my  sailors,  my  exiles,  my  prisoners,  my 
sisters,  my  people,  and  England  ? — and  what  will  they  do  with  me  ?" 
.  Louis  Philippe.  "  What  shall  I  do  with  my  nobles,  my  populace,  my 
courtiers,  my  comrades,  my  guards  that  I  dread,. my  subjects  that  govern 
me,  my  parliament  that  scorns  deliberation,  my  council  that  will  neither 
give  nor  take  advice,  Austria  that  hates  revolution,  Russia,  that  dreads  it, 
Prussia,  that  longs  for  it,  England,  that  threatens  it  at  every  change  of 
ministry  ? — and  what  will  they  do  to  me  ? 

We  could  prolong  the  interrogatory  to  a  folio,  but  in  the  mean  time 
we  must  give  a  specimen  of  the  true  way  of  letting  out  a  cabinet 
secret. 

"  '  What  shall  I  do?'  "  said  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  when  he  heard 
of  the  French  revolution.  There  was  a  pause.  '  Repeat  the  drama  in 
Brussels/  said  Metternich ;  '  German  money,  French  profligacy,  and 
Flemish  obstinacy  will  get  it  up.  Make  revolution  unpopular  by  setting 
the  most  stupid  of  subjects  against  the  most  liberal  of  kings — create  a 
necessity — have  Napoleon  II.  elected  first  consul  of  the  Netherlands,  and 


1030.]  Affairs  in  General.  587 

let  France  and  Europe  shake  hands  if  they  can.  Prussia  will  catch  fire. 
England  will  hold  oft'  till  she  has  a  chance  of  losing  immensely  by  her 
interference,  and  we  shall  gain  by  her  loss.  Probatum  est'  Two 
hundred  nameless  adventurers  were  sent  to  Brussels,  and  de  Wepenberg 
went  to  the  Hague." 

This  is  the  age  of  Discoveries  of  all  kinds.  A  very  curious  one  has 
just  been  made  through  the  agency  of  the  "  Literary  Gazette."  It 
appears  that  a  novel  recently  published,  purporting  to  be  a  new  one, 
and  pretty  generally  attributed  to  a  certain  Right  Honourable  authoress, 
is  a  version — almost  without  an  alteration  except  as  regards  the  title  arid 
the  names— of  some  compound  of  sighs,  tears  sal  volatile,  and  white 
handkerchiefs,  which  made  its  public  entree  about  eighteen  years  ago, 
and  was  most  naturally  and  judiciously  forgotten  by  every  living  crea- 
ture, except  the  Right  Honourable  writer,  and  the  person  whose  long 
memory  has  now  rendered  a  service  to  the  public  in  unmasking  the 
fraud.  We  can  have  no  hesitation  in  calling  it  a  fraud ; — which  is  the 
more  culpable  party,  the  author  or  the  publisher,  remains  to  be  seen. 
Either  the  one,  calculating  upon  the  badness  of  the  book,  and  upon  the 
proneness  of  people  to  banish  dulness  from  their  recollections,  has 
palmed  an  old  novel  upon  her  publisher  for  a  new  one ;  or  the  other 
has  played  the  same  trick  upon  the  public.  It  lies  between  them — we 
shall  see  who  comes  clear  from  the  fire. 


The  city  is  in  great  exultation  at  the  prospect  of  the  Royal  visit  to  the 
Mansion  House,  which  will  be  paid  just  after  our  lucubrations  see  the 
light,  but  which  we  can  predict  will  be  welcomed  by  one  of  the  most 
showy  receptions  remembered.  Key,  the  Lord  Mayor,  will  kneel  down 
a  simple  subject,  and  rise  up  an  altered  man  :  no  longer  a  citizen,  but  a 
knight  bearing  a  bloody  hand,  married  to  a  lady  of  high  degree,  and 
entitled  to  propagate  honours  through  his  line  for  fifty  generations  to 
come.  We  presume  we  shall  see  the  lady's  portrait  in  "  La  Belle  Assem- 
blee,"  which  already  announces  a  splendid  engraving  commemorative 
of  the  event,  representing  all  the  courtiers  and  citizens  at  high  feast, 
and  as  brilliant  as  colours  can  make  them. 

There  will  be,  of  course,  some  fantastic  notions  in  the  heads  of  the 
hundred  projectors,  who  are  in  full  motion  on  the  event.  Alderman 
Birch  has  proposed  to  erect  a  fountain  in  the  centre  of  Cheapside,  which 
is  to  play  turtle  soup  from  twelve  o'clock  to  six.  The  United  Uphol- 
sterers intend  to  present  a  pocket  mirror  to  every  officer  and  private  of 
the  escort  of  Hussars,  to  enable  them  to  look  at  themselves  during  the 
procession,  nothing  else  being  half  so  delightful.  Pudding-lane  sug- 
gests its  appropriate  gifts,  and  Fish-street-hill  is  already  prepared  with 
a  sturgeon,  worthy  of  the  Majesty  of  all  the  Russias.  But  the  finest 
project  of  all,  is  our  own  idea  of  piling  up  the  front  of  St.  Paul's,  not  with 
carpets  or  confectionary,  but  with  heads  of  children  from  three  to 
thirteen  years  of  age. 

"  Entrance  of  the  King  into  the  City. — An  intelligent  correspondent  sug- 
gests that  all  the  children  educated  at  all  the  free  schools  in  London 
might  be  accommodated  within  the  area  of  St.  Paul's ;  and  that  the 
Ordnance  Department,  by  supplying  tarpaulins  and  erecting  benches, 
might,  at  a  small  expense,  provide  shelter  from  the  weather  for  the 
little  ones,  who,  if  amphitheatrically  arranged,  would  present  a  sight 
in  every  point  of  view  the  most  interesting  that  could  gratify  the  Royal 

4  E  2 


588  Notes  of  the  Month  on  Affairs  in  General. 

eye.     If  this  suggestion  could  be  conveyed  to  the  ear  of  the  Queen,  it 
is  not  impossible  that  it  might  be  acted  upon/' 

An  "  intelligent  correspondent"  is  generally  a  rogue,  who  adopts 
the  title  to  conceal  that  he  is  a  blockhead.  Our  plan  is  in  finitely  better: 
the  whole  effect  would  be  lost  by  piling  the  infant  materiel  on  benches ; 
the  true  way  would  be  to  hang  them  on  the  prominent  parts  of  the 
architecture,  in  the  style  of  the  Cupids  in  the  opera  ballets,  and  give 
them  that  semblance  of  angels,  which  is  to  be  found  in  groups  of  fat 
cheeks  with  duck's  wings,  and  bodies  curtailed  or  forgotten.  This 
would  be  something  new ;  and  while  the  bench  system  in  this  east 
wind  would  only  present  his  Majesty  with  ten  thousand  coughing  and 
shivering  brats,  our  plan  would  shew  them  all  cherubs.  If  a  few 
were  hanged  in  the  operation,  how  could  they  be  nearer  Heaven ! 

The  Bourbons  were  lately  reported  to  have  lost  another  flower. 
News  was  received  of  the  death  of  his  Neapolitan  majesty,  Francis  I., 
at  Turin.  It  is  of  little  consequence,  we  suppose,  whether  the  news 
be  true  or  not.  At  all  events,  it  was  hardly  worth  while  to  contradict 
such  a  report ;  for  if  he  is  not  dead  he  soon  will  be.  On  his  decease, 
the  crown  will  come  to  his  eldest  son,  Ferdinand  Charles,  Duke  of 
Calabria,  in  his  21st  year,  by  his  second  wife,  whom  Francis  espoused 
in  1802,  he  being  at  that  time  forty-three,  and  his  youthful  bride  but 
thirteen  years  of  age. 

As  for  Francis  I.,  if  he  is  really  in  a  situation  that  requires  an 
epitaph,  all  that  we  can  say  of  him  is,  that  he  was  a  potentate  of  whose 
life  the  world  knew  nothing,  except  that  he  was  fat,  ate  macaroni,  was 
supposed  to  have  once  swallowed  poison  from  the  hands  of  his  loving 
mother,  and  married  a  child  of  thirteen.  Peace  be  to  his  manes.  It 
is  well  for  kings  when  death  finds  them  neither  in  a  prison,  nor  in  exile, 
but  travelling  like  a  bon  bourgeois,  and  eating  six  meals  a  day.  If  the 
world  goes  on  as  it  promises  now,  and  if  the  successor  of  Francis  does 
not  discover  that  the  fates  of  millions  will  be  placed  in  his  hands  for 
something  better  than  to  eat  macaroni,  and  do  nothing,  he  will  have  a 
different  story  to  tell  at  his  latter  end.  We  shall  have  his  majesty 
building  a  cottage  on  the  mighty  Potowmac,  or  locating  his  six  acres 
under  the  Peel  dynasty  on  the  Swan,  unless  he  shall  prefer  serving 
in  the  troops  of  his  highness  the  Dey  of  Tripoli,  or  taking  his  rest  in 
the  sunshine  at  the  back  of  the  Mole  among  his  congenial  Lazzaroni. 

The  "Winter's  Wreath,"  published  byWhittaker,  is  a  beautiful  collec- 
tion of  engravings,  certainly  not  yielding  to  any  in  London.  But  the 
general  fault  of  these  works  is  that  they  seem  all  written  by  the  same 
set  of  persons.  We  have  William  and  Mary  Howitt,  meek  as  mice,  in 
every  one  of  them.  Miss  Jewsbury  seldom  misses  an  opportunity, 
Bernard  Barton  is  not  so  multitudinous  as  formerly,  and  so  much  the 
better.  But  as  we  have  made  up  our  minds  long  since  on  Quaker 
poetry,  and  decided  that  no  broadbrim  can  write — a  decision  which  is 
fully  sanctioned  by  universal  experience,  though  Goldsmith  said  that 
they  ought  to  be  the  most  literary  of  drab-coloured  creatures,  "  as  their 
founder  was  a  Penn,"  a  pun  for  which  the  bard  deserves  to  be  immor- 
talized— we  can  discover  a  Quaker's  verse  at  any  distance,  as  the  doc^ 
tors  lately  could  discover  a  madman,  by  the  smell.  However,  we  hope 
the  editors  will  repent,  and  give  us  some  new  faces  to  delight  ui  next 
year. 


1830.]  [    589    ] 

MONTHLY  REVIEW  OF  LITERATURE,  DOMESTIC  AND  FOREIGN, 


Travels  to  the  Seat  of  War  in  the  East, 
throuyh  Russia  and  the  Crimea,  in  182J), 
by  Captain  I.  E.  Alexander,  late  of  the  \6th 
Lancers. — Captain  Alexander  served  with 
the  16th  Lancers  in  India,  Avhen  quite  a 
boy  ;  and  on  his  return  three  or  four 
years  ago  published  his  Travels'  history 
in  Ava,  Persia,  and  Turkey.  Eager  for 
professional  knowledge — still  young  and 
active — he  resolved  last  year,  if  possible, 
to  reach  the  seat  of  war  in  Turkey,  and 
was  not  a  man  to  be  daunted  by  com- 
mon obstacles.  The  Emperor's  permis- 
sion was  of  course  indispensable,  and  a 
journey  to  Petersburg!!  to  obtain  it 
equally  so.  Arrived  at  the  capital,  the 
Emperor  was,  unluckily,  gone  to  War- 
saw to  be  crowned :  but  Sir  James  Wy- 
lie,  the  emperor's  Scotch  physician,  and 
the  common  patron  of  all  his  Scottish 
countrymen,  undertook  to  get  his  peti- 
tion presented  to  the  emperor  ;  and  in 
the  meanwhile  the  captain  had  nothing 
to  do  but  survey  the  imperial  city  at 
leisure.  Within  a  few  wersts  is  a  mili- 
tary establishment,  called  the  Camp  of 
Instruction,  which  naturally  drew  his 
attention,  and,  upon  a  close  scrutiny, 
his  admiration,  and  as  a  Briton,  his  envy. 
After  Granville's  ample  description  of 
the  capital,  any  further  account  for  the 
next  twenty  or  thirty  years  must  be 
superfluous.  Captain  Alexander  him- 
self felt  this,  but,  nevertheless,  favours 
us  with  numerous  sketches  of  the  prin- 
cipal buildings.  The  emperor's  permis- 
sion at  last  arrived,  and  the  captain  lost 
no  time  in  setting  off  for  the  still  dis- 
tant scene  of  action ;  but  at  Moscow  he 
encountered  new  delays,  which  again, 
however,  enabled  him  to  look  close  and 
minutely  at — what  he  would  otherwise 
have  but  glanced  at — the  ancient  seat  of 
the  empire;  and,  moreover,  to  see  the 
Persian  Embassy,  which  came  while  he 
was  there  to  apologize  for  the  massacre 
of  the  Russian  ambassador  and  his  suite. 
With  many  of  the  members  Captain 
Alexander— he  had  served  in  Persia  it 
will  be  remembered — was  personally  ac- 
quainted, and  from  them  he  obtained 
the  details  of  the  massacre,  which  he 
communicates  at  some  length,  and  ac- 
ceptably enough,  for  but  little  was 
known  before  of  the  matter.  Of  course 
the  statement  is  an  ex-parte  one,  and  the 
Persians  throw  the  blame  of  wanton  pro- 
vocation upon  the  Russians  themselves. 

All  impediments  at  Moscow  being 
finally  removed,  the  captain  hastened 
to  Nicolaef,  from  whence  he  proposed  to 
go  to  Odessa  and  join  Admiral  Greig's 
tieet,  to  whom  he  had  especial  introduc- 
tions, and  so  get  landed  at  once  on  the 
Roumelia  coast.  At  Odessa,  however, 
the  plague  had  broken  out,  and  he  was 


obliged  to  cross  the  steppes  to  the  Cri- 
mea, and,  from  one  obstacle  or  another, 
did  not  finally  reach  the  army  till  the 
Russians  were  in  possession  of  Adrianople, 
and  the  campaign  at  an  end.  Of  the  cam- 
paign, however,  he  had  abundant  op- 
portunities  of  learning  particulars,  and 
especially  with  respect  to  the  co-opera- 
tion of  the  fleet,  which  is  just  the  part 
least  understood  at  home.  From  the 
captain's  account,  it  appears  Varna  did 
not  surrender  till  it  became  completely 
untenable,  and  of  course  Yoosof  Pacha 
was  not  the  traitor,  he  was  on  all  sides 
represented  to  be.  At  head-quarters 
Captain  Alexander  dined  with  Diebitch, 
who  was  the  only  person  that  talked. 
At  this  general  silence  on  the  part  of  the 
guests  the  captain  expresses  some  sur- 
prise, but  surely  he  must  have  found 
out  at  home,  that  subalterns  must  do 
nothing  but  listen  when  the  commander 
speaks. 

Diebitch  is  a  Silesian  by  birth,  and 
distinguished  himself  in  the  service  of 
Russia,  in  the  division  of  Wittgenstein, 
during  the  campaign  of  1812.  He  sub- 
sequently became  the  head  of  the  etat- 
major,  or  staff,  and  succeeded  to  the 
command  of  the  second  army,  at  the 
commencement  of  the  campaign  of  1829. 
His  rewards  last  year  have  been  promo- 
tion to  the  rank  of  field-marshal,  of  which 
there  are  only  four  or  five  in  Russia; 
the  title  of  count ;  the  orders  of  St.  An- 
drew and  St.  George ;  a  million  of  rubles, 
or  about  £40,000  sterling;  six  cannon 
taken  from  the  enemy ;  a  regiment  called 
after  his  name ;  the  appellation  of  Za- 
balkan-sky,  or  Passer  of  the  Balkan,  &c. 
He  was  received  at  dinner  with  prodi- 
gious respect.  He  is  a  little  man,  with 
an  aquiline  nose  and  florid  complexion  ; 
his  hair  was  dishevelled,  and  streamed 
from  his  head  like  a  meteor.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  green  uniform,  with  the 
cross  and  riband  of  his  orders.  He 
talked  with  Captain  Alexander  touching 
the  pay  of  officers  in  India,  and  scarcely 
credited  the  amount :  for  a  Russian  colo- 
nel in  command  of  a  regiment  receives 
only  £150.  per  annum,  whereas  many 
subalterns  on  the  staff  in  the  East  re- 
ceive from  £600.  to  £800.  Diebitch 
considered  the  Russian  military  system 
one  of  the  most  perfect  in  the  world,  &c. 

As  peace  was  now  made,  Captain 
Alexander  prepared  to  quit  the  camp — • 
meaning  to  return  home  by  Constanti- 
nople, Egypt,  and  Italy ;  but  having 
to  go  first  to  Odessa,  he  was  detained 
there  by  some  quarantine  orders.  When 
the  delay  thus  created  was  over,  he  was 
arrested  as  a  spy,  from  the  officiousness 
of  an  officer,  desirous  of  shewing  his  ex- 
traordinary zeal  for  the  emperor's  ser- 


590 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[Nov. 


vice,  and  forthwith  packed  off  to  St. 
Petersburgh.  Though  annoyed  and  dis- 
appointed, he  was  accompanied  by  a 
tieid  officer,  who  treated  him  with  civi- 
lity, travelled  by  a  new  road,  and  saw, 
ot  course,  new  countries.  At  Peters- 
burgh  all  was  speedily  set  right, — the 
emperor  personally  expressed  his  regrets 
for  the  unpleasant  mistake,  and  set  him 
instantly  at  liberty.  The  Captain  re- 
turned home  across  the  ice  of  the  Baltic, 
through  Stockholm  and  Copenhagen — a 
pretty  considerable  tour  in  a  few  months. 
Captain  Alexander  was  delighted  with 
the  Russians,  and  wonders  a  good  deal 
at  Dr.  Clarke's  eternal  grumblings — but 
Hussia,  it  must  be  remembered,  has 
changed  within  tive-and-twenty  years. 
English  and  Germans  swarm.  We  are 
eaten  up  with  Germans,  was  the  remark 
— and  if  the  Russians  can  do  without 
them,  as  we  suppose  they  now  can,  it  is 
no  wonder  they  are  jealous  of  them. 
The  memory  of  Catherine  is  not  parti- 
cularly agreeable  to  Russians — she  was 
the  great  patron  of  foreigners,  and  her- 
self a  German.  Captain  Alexander  has 
made  a  very  agreeable  book— his  narra- 
tive is  spirited,  and  his  observations  in- 
telligent. 

Tlie  Heiress  of  Bruges,  by  the  Author  of 
"  Hi(jh-ways  and  By-ways,"  i.  e.  Thomas 
C.  Grattan,  Esq.  4  vols.  \2rno. —  Mi*. 
Grattan  makes  the  Netherlands  all  his 
own.  It  is  the  scene  of  his  facts  and  his 
fictions;  and  though  we  shall  not  say, 
as  has  been  said  ot  some  others  who  deal 
in  both  commodities,  that  his  histories 
are  novels — not,  we  mean,  beyond  the 
usual  average — we  must  say, 'that  the 
novel  before  us  is  too  much  of  a  history 
— the  siege  of  Welbasch,  occupying  a 
good  couple  of  volumes,  is  as  mortally 
wearying  to  read,  as  it  may  be  supposed 
it  was  intolerably  hard  to  bear.  To  the 
merit  of  thorough  acquaintance  with  the 
country  he  describes — though  so  near, 
not  so  well  known  as  many  more  remote 
ones — with  its  histories,  and  antiquities, 
and  municipalities,  and  to  the  higher 
merit  of  faithful  and  graphic  representa- 
tion, the  writer  has  the  fullest  claim. 
He  is  as  familiar  with  its  traditions,  and 
its  customs  and  costumes,  as  the  author 
of  Waverley  with  those  of  Scotland ; 
but  we  may  soon  have  too  much  of  this 
kind  of  thing,  and  especially  where  the 
interest  has  got  to  be  generated.  Scot- 
tish  story  is  mixed  up  with  our  own — 
at  least  its  main  facts  and  leading  cha- 
racters are  early  dinned  into  us ;  but 
this  is  not  the  case  with  Flemish  story  ; 
and  though  Maurice  of  Orange  was  an 
active  and  vigorous  fellow,  he  is,  in  our 
common  imagination,  neither  a  Wallace 
nor  a  Bruce,  nor  even  a  Stewart. 

The  scene  opens  in  Bruges — every 
stick  and  stone  of  which  is  as  familiar  to 


the  writer  as  household  words— and  all 
that  concerns  the  Heiress  of  Bruges 
comes  within  the  year  lb'00,  when  the 
Netherlands  had  been  again  betrayed 
into  the  dominion  of  the  Spaniards,  and 
the  government  of  the  Archdukes  Al- 
bert and  Isabella.  Theresa  is  sole  heiress 
of  immense  wealth— her  father,  the  bur- 
gomaster, whose  own  early  history  fills 
up  a  large  space,  is  involved  in  the  new 
revolt  of  Brabant  and  Flanders,  under 
the  auspices  of  Maurice  of  Orange — her 
admirer  is  a  popular  leader,  at  the  head 
of  a  band  of  black  Walloons,  and  in  pos- 
session of  an  all  but  impregnable  fort- 
ress on  the  Meuse,  from  whence  he 
makes  predatory  excursions  to  the  very 
gates  of  Brussels.  He  is  in  love  with 
the  beautiful  heiress,  but  alarmed  lest 
she  should  fall  in  love  with  his  exter- 
nals, his  name  and  reputation,  he  re- 
solves, if  he  gain  her  affections  at  all, 
to  win  them  solely  by  his  personal  qua- 
lities. He  accordingly  gets  himself  in- 
troduced to  her  notice,  in  a  comparative- 
ly humble  capacity,  as  her  father's  ap- 
prentice or  protege,  and  being  a  Proteus 
for  disguises,  and  a  Crichton  for  accom- 
plishments, he  quickly  effects  his  pur- 
pose. But  then  he  is  not  sure,  but  as 
Count  de  Bassenvelt,  he  may  not  sup- 
plant himself,  and  he  resolves  to  put  her 
to  the  fullest  proof.  For  this  purpose, 
he  intercepts  her  in  a  journey,  and  car- 
ries her  to  his  castle — then  in  a  state  of 
siege— where,  though  sorely  tempted  by 
the  glories  of  his  bravery,  which  she 
seems  to  witness,  and  the  splendors  of 
his  generosity,  which  are  all  carefully 
reported,  and  the  effects  she  indeed 
feels — she  clings  still  to  her  obscurer 
lover,  and  finally,  of  course,  discovers, 
to  her  great  felicity,  that  the  Count  and 
her  father's  protege  are  identical  per- 
sons. The  equivoque  is  admirably  kept 
up,  and  it  is  almost  to  the  last  before 
the  reader  himself  is  sure  that  the  two 
characters  may  not  prove  two  indivi- 
duals, 

An  old  Spaniard,  the  governor  of 
Bruges,  figures  in  the  piece,  and  espe- 
cially two  young  Moriscoes,  the  man  in 
his  service  as  his  slave — the  girl,  a  no- 
vice in  a  neighbouring  nunnery,  and  on 
the  point  of  profession.  He  had  wronged 
their  parents,  and  recently  attempted 
violence  on  the  beautiful  and  high  spi- 
rited girl  herself.  She  was  burning  for 
revenge,  loathed  the  nunnery,  and  clung 
to  her  ancient  faith.  At  this  nunnery 
was  Theresa,  and  De  Bassenvelt  had 
attempted  to  gain  admittance  through 
the  young  Morisco,  her  companion, 
more  ardent  in  temperament,  and  bolder 
in  demeanour.  In  this  attempt  he  failed, 
but  excited  the  passions  of  her  friend, 
who  finally  prevailed  upon  him  to  aid 
her  escape  from  the  walls,  and  then 
threw  herself  into  his  arms,  without 


1830.] 


Domestic  (tnd  Foreign. 


591 


condition  or  reserve.  But  he  was  too 
generous  to  sacrifice  her  to  coarse  indul- 
gence ;  and  she  finally  wound  herself  to 
such  a  pitch  of  romance,  as  to  contribute 
to  the  promotion  of  his  views  with  the 
heiress.  She  assumes  a  soldier's  dress, 
and  plays  her  part  with  feelings  too  mas- 
culine for  probability,  but  which  the  au- 
thor seems  to  think  not  incompatible 
with  the  fervours  of  an  Andalusian  and 
a  Moor.  She  goes  steadily  through  with 
her  purpose,  but  winces  when  all  is  ac- 
complished ;  she  begins  to  envy  the 
happiness  she  had  effected,  but  gene- 
rously betakes  herself  to  another  coun- 
try to  keep  herself  out  of  temptation. 
Her  brother,  the  slave,  is  as  hot  as  the 
clime  that  gave  him  birth,  and  when  he 
discovers  the  old  Spaniard's  wrongs,  as 
bent  upon  revenge  as  his  faith  could 
prompt  him,  and  escapes,  in  the  prose- 
cution of  it,  more  perils  than  man  or 
Moor  ever  encountered. 

Russell,  or  the  Reign  of  Fashion.  3 
vols.  I2mo.  By  the  Author  of  "  Winter 
in  London,"  #c.-Mr.  Surr,  like  Mr. 
Godwin,  has  again  taken  to  novel  writ- 
ing, and,  like  Mr.  Godwin  too,  writes 
with  all  the  vigour  and  vivacity  of  his 
younger  days.  As  of  old,  the  complica- 
tions of  graver  mystery  are  relieved  by 
an  occasional  exhibiting  of  the  foibles  of 
aristocratic  follies.  "  Winter  in  Lon- 
don," and  "  Splendid  Misery,"  were, 
in  their  day,  the  first  of  their  class,  and 
in  reality  the  progenitors  of  our  fashion- 
able novels.  Potent  rivals  have  sprung 
up,  in  the  interval,  to  wrest  from  him 
the  palm,  but  he  still  shews  he  can  keep 
a  firm  grasp,  and  will  not  readily  resign 
what  was  once  exclusively  his  own. 

Russell,  whose  birth  and  family  are 
utterly  unknown  to  him,  is  just  of  age, 
and  in  possession  of  enormous  property, 
and  designated,  in  the  slang  of  the  press, 
the  Foundling  of  Fortune.  He  has  been 
brought  up  under  the  guardianship  of  a 
Mr.  Gregory,  a  man  of  business,  a  mem- 
ber of  parliament,  a  leader  of  the  saints, 
and  of  boundless  wealth,  acquired  main- 
ly by  the  command  his  ward's  property 
gave  him  in  the  money  market.  As  a 
professor  of  extraordinary  sanctity,  Mr. 
Gregory  is  a  prodigious  hypocrite,  and 
pains  are  taken,  in  a  long  narrative,  to 
trace  his  career  from  the  condition  of  a 
bare-legged  Scotch  beggar  boy,  to  a  sort 
of  sovereignty  in  the  mercantile  world. 
The  development,  however,  of  the  mys- 
tery attending  the  birth  of  Itussell  is 
the  prime  object  of  the  story.  As  a 
banker,  Gregory  succeeds  to  the  con- 
nections and  secrets  of  a  house  of  long 
standing,  in  the  strong-room  of  which 
had  been  deposited  an  old  sea-chest,  and 
on  the  books  stood  a  considerable  sum 
for  the  safety  and  investment  of  which 
the  successor  becomes  of  course  respon- 


sible. The  sum  had  grown  verv  large, 
and  Gregory,  from  the  long  silence  of 
the  interested  parties  began  to  entertain 
hopes  of  its  finally  falling  into  hi-.}  own 
hands.  In  his  impatience  to  discover 
the  mystery  attending  this  ancient  depo- 
sit, he"  breaks  open  the  chest,  and  finds, 
indeed,  jewels  of  value,  but  also  a  skele- 
ton, and  a  Spanish  MS.,  which  he  can- 
not read,  and  dare  not  get  read.  Scarcely 
had  he  replaced  things  as  he  found  them, 
and  recovered  his  own  tranquillity,  when 
the  chest  is  demanded,  but  not  the  mo- 
ney ;  and  by  and  by  a  child  is  consigned 
to  him  from  the  East,  as  the  future 
owner  of  the  accumulated  property,  to 
be  educated  at  Eton  and  Cambridge. 
As  the  boy  grows  up,  a  person  of  over- 
ruling authority  corresponds  with  him, 
advises,  counsels,  and  directs,  and  pur- 
poses to  come  and  put  him  in  posses- 
sion of  all  the  day  he  comes  of  age.  That 
day  arrives,  but  not  the  stranger ;  he 
again  puts  oft'  his  appearance,  but  em- 
powers Gregory  to  give  the  youth  pos- 
session of  the  property,  now  swollen  to 
an  enormous  amountr  in  lands,  stock, 
"and  half  a  borough.  The  youth  takes 
the  seat  which  the  borough  gives  him — 
acts  politically  with  the  son  of  the  Duke 
of  Lavemere,*  a  liberal  member,  his  old 
friend  at  school  and  college  —  and  to 
whose  sister  he  was  passionately  at- 
tached. But  the  uncertainty  which  hangs 
over  his  birth  blights  his  fondest  hopes, 
and  damps  his  best  energies,  when  final- 
ly, the  long-expected  stranger  arrives, 
and  arrives  in  the  character  of  an  Ame- 
rican, a  man  of  plain,  and  even  blunt 
manners— a  very  Franklin  in  address 
and  intelligence — and  tells  the  whole 
tale.  He  is  of  the  Lavemere  family — 
the  true  owner  of  the  ducal  coronet — 
the  direct  descendant  of  an  elder  branch 
of  the  family  supposed  to  have  left  no 
issue ;  and  what  is  no  less  singular,  llus- 
sel  is  also  the  descendant  of  a  younger 
brother  of  the  same  branch.  But  the 
old  gentleman  declines  disturbing  the 
duke  in  possession ;  and,  apparently, 
llussell,  content  with  his  boundle'ss 
wealth,  and  the  fair  Lady  Jane,  suffers 
his  friend  to  take  the  bauble  which  had 
just  dropped  on  his  head  by  the  death  of 
the  duke.  Gregory,  too,  at  this  time, 
who  had  spent  a  life  in  hoarding  and 
hoodwinking,  is  ruined  by  the  panic  in 
the  city,  and  the  bursting  of  the  share- 
bubbles,  and  blows  out  his  own  brains. 
— Without  expanding  our  outline  too 
much,  we  could  not  bring  in  the  fa- 
shionable folks,  who  are,  however,  very 
much  like  other  portraits  of  the  kind, 
full  of  pretence,  insolence,  and  in- 
trigue. 

Narrative  of  a  Journey  overland  from 
England  to  India,  §c.,  by  Mrs.  Colonel 
Elwood.  2vofs.  Svo. — Overland  journeys, 


592 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature., 


[Nov. 


though  common  enough  from,  are  not 
very  frequent  to  India — the  usual  route 
is  by  the  lied  Sea,  and  there  can  never 
be  any  reliance  on  a  ready  conveyance. 
For  a  lady  this  same  route  has  seldom 
probably  been  thought  of,  and  Mrs. 
Colonel'  Eiwood  claims  the  distinction 
of  being  the  first  to  commit  herself  to 
the  venture.  The  undertaking  it  was 
thought  required  good  nerves,  and  Mrs. 
Elwood's  do  not  seem  to  have  been  par- 
ticularly stout,  for  her  fears  were  eter- 
nal, and  though  pazienza,  she  says,  was 
her  motto,  she  must,  apparently,  have 
tried  her  husband's.  Her  experience 
will  turn  to  the  advantage  of  those  who 
make  the  same  attempt — that  is  her  com- 
fort ;  but  though  nothing  really  appalling 
or  scarcely  very  annoying  was  encoun- 
tered, she  will,  we  suspect,  not  tempt 
many  to  follow  her  example,  and  cer- 
tainly not  encourage  gentlemen  to  sub- 
ject themselves  to  the  unceasing  anxiety 
such  an  enterprize  involves. 

The  lady  professes  to  have  journalized 
for  her  own  amusement,  and  to  have 
communicated  the  contents  of  her  jour- 
nals in  letters  to  a  sister  ;  she  gives,  that 
is,  to  the  divisions  of  her  subject,  the 
name  of  letters  instead  of  chapters — 
They  bear  internal  evidence  of  being 
written  at  home.  She  describes,  for 
instance,  the  Egyptian  female  costume 
(1826)  as  consisting  of  a  coarse  blue  shift, 
descending  to  the  feet,  with  fashionably 
long  sleeves ;  and  in  speaking  of  the  port 
of  Yembo,  she  refers  to  Burckhardt's 
book,  which  was  not  published  till  last 
year.  At  home,  too,  it  must  have  been 
that  she  has  hunted  up  all  her  history, 
and  antiquities,  and  learning,  which 
miserably  mar  the  general  naturalness 
of  her  book.  The  whole  of  these  are 
mere  interpolations — not  gathered  in 
her  way,  and  of  course  just  so  many  im- 
pertinencies.  King  Solomon's  ships,  she 
tells  us,  on  the  authority  of  her  school 
chronology,  precisely  992  B.C.,  were 
three  years  going  and  returning  to  Tar- 
shish  ;  while  of  the  Cathedral  of  Lucca, 
she  can  only  affirm  it  was  built  about 
1070.  Phsedon,  the  brother  of  Osiris, 
colonized  Turin,  1529  B.C.  To  Pisa, 
according  to  Mrs.  Colonel  Ehvood's  in- 
terpretation, tradition  assigns  an  Arca- 
dian origin  ;  and  tells  us  it  was  founded 
by  the  inhabitants  of  its  namesake  in 
Elis" — which  was  not  in  Arcadia.  In 
her  quotations  she  sometimes  adds 
even  the  latitudes.  Mount  Cenis  is 
11,977  feet  in  height;  and  Pompey  the 
Great  once  attempted  a  passage,  &c. 
Her  "learning,"  too,  is  of  the  same  qua- 
lity. Lycopolis  is  so  named  from  the 
jackalls  which  were  worshipped  there. 
Man,  she  styles  somewhere,  an  ephemera. 
In  one  place  she  records  the  remarkable 
inscription,  "  Senatus  populusque  Ro- 
mani ;"  and  quotes  a  couple  of  lines  on 


Virgil's  tomb,  which  will  neither  con- 
strue  nor  scan.  Among  the  Indian 
deities  she  finds  Cupid  figuring  under 
the  name  of  Dipuc,  and  confirms  the 
identity  by  observing,  that,  "  in  fact, 
Dipuc  is  an  anagram  of  Cupid."  Her 
Indian  researches,  as  might  be  suppos- 
ed, are  quite  overwhelming — Colebrook, 
Jones,  and  Wilkins,  make  her  quite  an 
oracle. 

Passing  all  this  gallimafre  the  narra- 
tive is  by  no  means  of  an  unamusing 
character.  She  describes  what  she  saw- 
gracefully  enough ;  we  expected  more 
of  the  details  of  personal  inconvenience. 
Starting  from  Eastbourne,  the  lady  pro- 
ceeded through  Paris,  Geneva,  Turin, 
Genoa,  Florence,  Home,  Naples,  Mes- 
sina, Malta,  where  the  party  were  de- 
tained three  months,  Alexandria,  and 
up  the  Nile  to  Cairo  and  Kenne — the 
point  of  the  river  from  which  she  crossed 
the  desert  to  Cosseir.  Up  to  this  stage 
of  her  journey,  which  occupies  the  bet- 
ter part  of  a  volume,  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  find  any  quotable  matter.  At 
Naples  she  found,  she  says,  plenty  of 
Venusses  —  she  particularizes  Venus 
Callipyga,  and  Venus  Genetrix,  and 
between  them,  she  adds,  we  do  not  know 
why,  '"Adonis  very  properly  has  taken 
his  station." 

At  Malta,  the  apparatus  and  process 
of  making  maccaroni  struck  her  as  worth 
recording.  It  is  so  extremely  simple, 
she  wonders  it  is  not  constantly  made 
in  England  in  private  families  instead  of 
being  imported.  It  is  so  infinitely  bet- 
ter when  eaten  fresh,  &c.  The  paste, 
it  seems,  composed  of  simple  flour  and 
water,  when  of  a  proper  consistency, 
is  pressed  by  a  screw,  (by  a  u  screw" 
somehow,)  through  a  plate  full  of  holes, 
each  of  which  has  a  peg  in  the  centre 
to  make  it  hollow ;  the  whole  is  set  in 
motion  by  a  wheel  turned  by  the  hand, 
and  the  maccaroni  is  laid  in  the  sun 
to  harden.  All  this  manipulation  doubt- 
less would  be  easy  enough  for  us,  but 
where  is  the  sun  to  come  from  ?  In 
Egypt,  mounted  on  a  donkey,  she 
passed  a  string  of  loaded  camels  — 
"  they  stretched  out  their  ugly  necks 
one  way,  and  they  stretched  them  out 
the  other,  and  they  looked  half  deter- 
mined to  eat  me  up,  as  they  stalked, 
stalked,  stalked  on  close  to  me,  so  close 
that  I  could  have  touched  them  C. 
called  out,  do  not  be  afraid,"  &c.  "  On 
a  sandy  islet  of  the  Nile,  half-a-dozen 
storks  may  be  seen  in  a  composed  atti- 
tude, standing  upon  one  leg,  contem- 
plating themselves  in  the  river,  then 
stalk,  stalk,  stalking  on  till  alarmed,"  &c. 
We  do  not  recal  anything  more  observ- 
able, except,  perhaps,  that  she  found  the 
Turks  every  where  "•  perfect  gentlemen" 
• — preux  chevaliers — who  might  read  our 
Bond-street  dandies  a  lesson  not  to  stare 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


593 


ladies  out  of  countenance.  "  In  climb- 
ing the  Pyramids,"  she  says,  "  I  was 
fairly  pulled  up — most  of  the  rugged 
stones  by  which  we  clambered  being  two 
or  three  feet  high.  My  heavy  cloth 
habit  was  but  ill  suited  for  the  attempt, 
and  I  soon  found  neither  my  courage 
nor  my  strength  were  adequate  to  the 
undertaking.  I  however  did  not  relin- 
quish it  till  I  had  been  repeatedly  en- 
treated to  desist;  and  I  was  at  length 
glad  to  veil  my  cowardice  under  the 
pretence  of  conjugal  obedience,  as  C. 
was  really  seriously  alarmed  for  my 
safety." 

From  Kenne  Mrs.  Colonel  was  car- 
ried in  a  kind  of  sedan  swung  between 
two  camels,  en  file,  and  met  with  a  few 
frights,  but  no  perils.  At  Cosseir  the 
party  embarked  for  Djidda,  where  they 
had  the  good  fortune  to  get  a  passage  to 
Bombay  in  a  country  vessel  just  en- 
gaged to  carry  Sir  Hudson  Lowe  and 
his  suite.  At  Hodeida  she  visited  an 
Arab  harem,  and  found  the  ladies  more 
at  their  own  command  than  she  ex- 
pected.  From  Bombay  she  accompa- 
nied the  Colonel  to  Cutch,  where  he  had 
been  appointed  to  the  command  of  some 
regiment  that  had  somehow  or  other 
got  very  much  out  of  order.  He  had, 
it  seems,  served  some  dozen  years  on  the 
Poorbundar  coast,  in  the  Guzerat  coun- 
try, arid  as  they  sailed  along  in  sight  of 
it,  in  their  way  to  Cutch,  he  beguiled 
the  tedium  of  the  voyage  by  fighting 
all  his  battles  over  again,  and  the  reader 
has  the  full  benefit  of  all  his  reminis- 
cences. Of  Cutch  and  the  neighbouring 
region  numerous  details  are  given,  and 
this,  referring  as  it  does  to  countries 
but  little  known,  is  by  far  the  best  part 
of  the  volumes.  The  destruction  of  fe- 
male children  she  describes  as  general. 
"'As  late,"  she  says,  "  as  1818,  it  was 
calculated  that  there  were  not  less  than 
1000  infants  destroyed;  and  in  a  popula- 
tion of  12,000  males,  there  were  not  more 
than  thirty  females  alive."  The  reign- 
ing family  in  Poorbunder  are  suspected 
of  adopting  the  practice  of  female  in- 
fanticide, for  evidence  could  be  produced 
that  there  has  been  no  grown-up  daugh- 
ter in  the  family  for  more  than  a  hun- 
dred years.  To  some  expostulations 
with  the  llajpoot  chiefs,  the  answer  was 
— pay  our  daughters'  portions  and  they 
shall  live.  After  a  residence  of  about  a 
twelvemonth,  the  Colonel's  regiment 
being  come  into  a  presentable  state— he 
had  apparently  no  other  business  in  In- 
dia—he and  his  lady  returned  to  Bom- 
bay, and  quietly  took  shipping  for  Eng- 
land— reaching  thus  Windmill-hill,  the 
seat  of  the  author's  father,  Mr.  Curteis, 
member  for  Sussex,  in  something  less 
than  three  years  from  the  day  of  setting 
out  at  the  same  point. 
"M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  52. 


The  Bride  of  Sicily,  a  Dramatic  Poem, 
ly  Harriet  Downing. — All  are  at  cross 

Eurposeshere  ;  and  the  writer,  of  course, 
as  enough  to  do  to  effect  an  intelligible 
denouement.  That,  however,  is  accom- 
plished with  something  like  dramatic 
tact ;  and  the  lady's  piece,  by  a  little 
cutting  and  carving,  might  make  no  con- 
temptible melo-drame — it  has  all  the 
requisites,  except  a  ghost  and  more 
mystery.  As  a  poem,  or  a  subject  for 
critical  estimate,  the  staring  fault— the 
common  one  of  the  day  in  similar  com- 
positions—is the  want  of  simplicity.  In 
the  sentiment,  violence  goes  for  energy ; 
and  in  the  language,  extravagance  for 
force.  A  Christian  lady  who,  in  spite  of 
herself,  loves  a  generous  Moor,  says,. — 

Sooner  than  I'd  plight  my  holy  troth 

To  one  who  scorns  my  faith,  who  hates  my 

creed, 

And  makes  a  jest  of  my  soul's  treasured  hopes, 
I'd  rather  join  my  bosom  to  the  toad's, 
Inhale  its  foul  and  pestilential  breath, 
And  wreathing  under  strong  antipathy, 
Kiss  on  its  bloated  lip  the  rankling  poison. 

Hassan,  the  governor  of  .Sicily,  and 
the  lady's  admirer,  expostulates  thus 
gravely : — 

Say,  have  I  used  the  crescent  and  its  horns 
To  goad  and  vex  the  children  of  the  cross  ? 

The  same  Hassan,  explaining  to  the 
lady's  brother : — 

False  love,  Lord  Barto,  like  the  torrent-stream, 
Swelled  by  long  rains,  may  overflow  its  banks, 
And  pour  destruction— but  such  love  as  Has- 
san's, 

Vast  as  the  ocean  round  thy  native  shores, 
Tho'  it  may  swell  and  rage,  by  tempest  stirred, 
Yet  it  respects  the  gentle  isle  it  laves, 
And  makes  its  proud  waves  know  their  proper 
bounds. 

This    young  gentleman,    the   lady's 

brother,  has  also  misplaced  his  affections, 

and  thus  proposes  to  lash  them  in  his 

anger : — 

Oh !  I  could  scourge  with  cords  my  erring 

fancy, 

For  having  fixed  its  young  hopes  so  intensely 
On  one  who  could  not  breathe  responsive  pas- 
sion ! 

Sicily  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Moslems. 
A  stranger,  escaping  from  slavery,  and 
wrecked  upon  the  island,  is  entertained 
by  a  noble  lord,  whose  only  daughter, 
Astarte,  falls  in  love  with  him,  and 
must  marry  him.  He  is  in  a  sad  moody 
state — for,  in  truth  he  had  married  this 
very  lady's  sister,  Cleone,  to  whose 
memory  he  is  still  devoutly  attached ; 
she  was  supposed  to  have  perished  in  the 
wreck.  Lord  Barto,  who  has  long  loved 
Astarte,  now  picks  a  quarrel  with  the 
successful  bridegroom,  and  is  only  deter-  • 
red  from  violence  by  the  stranger's  dis- 
closing his  incognito — he  is  Rogero,  the 

4  F 


594 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[Nov. 


king  of  Sicily.  Loyalty  quenches  jea- 
lousy and  rage,  and  Barto  rejoices  that 
the  queen  of  his  affections  is  the  queen 
of  his  country.  Patriotism  now  fills  up 
the  vacuum  of  love,  and  all  his  soul  is 
absorbed  in  attempts  to  expel  the  Turks, 
and  reinstate  the  monarch.  Meanwhile, 
re-appears  Cleone.  Astarte  loses  her 
senses,  and  Barto  his  devotion  for  the 
king,  who  reclaims  Cleone  for  his  wife. 
In  defence  of  Astarte's  claims,  he  de- 
mands of  the  king  to  renounce  Cleone, 
and,  on  his  refusal,  rushes  on  him  with 
a  dagger.  Astarte  intercepts  the  blow, 
and  falls  dead  at  his  feet,  alter  a  speech, 
in  which  she  says, — 
Barto,  dear  kinsman,  thou  hast  loved  me  long ; 
Perchance,  in  other  worlds  I  may  repay  thee, 

&c.— 

Thus  miserably  baffled,  Barto  plucks  the 
dagger  from  her  bosom,  and  plunges  it 
in  nis  own,  observing — 
Since  she  is  gone,  I  will  not  tarry  here- 
in other  worlds,  she  said,  she  might  repay  me  ; 
I'll  offer  her,  and  see. 

— which  is  as  sensible  a  thing  as  occurs 
in  the  whole  piece. 

Retrospections  of  the  Stage,  ly  the  late 
John  Bernard,  Manager  of  the  American 
Theatres,  and  formerly  Secretary  of  the 
Beef-Steak  Club  ;  2  vols.  \2rno. — These 
are  the  most  unpresuming  recollections 
of  the  stage  we  have  met  with ;  and 
though  mixed  up,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
with  much  coarseness  —  not  offensive 
coarseness — contain  more  amusing  and 
laughable  passages  than  most  of  his  pre- 
decessors' communications.  Forty  years 
ago,  Bernard  was  known  to  the  fre- 
quenters of  the  theatre  as  the  best  repre- 
sentative of  fops  and  "  fine  gentlemen" 
of  the  day,  for  which,  according  to  his 
own  statement,  he  studied  personally 
Lord  Conyngham  and  Sir  John  Old- 
mixon,  while  at  Bath,  once  the  chief 
seat  of  provincial  celebrity  in  matters 
of  fashion  and  taste,  and  all  but  rivalling 
the  metropolis.  Times  are  much  changed 
in  half  a  century.  Nobody  looks  for  any- 
thing but  dulness  now-a-days  at  Bath. 
Bernard  tells  his  own  story  in  detail, 
but  rarely  makes  himself  the  hero  of  the 
thousand  jokes  he  introduces.  Though 
not  very  refined  in  feeling,  his  tact  was 
too  good  for  gross  egotism.  The  present 
volumes  bring  up  his  narrative  to  the 
year  1797,  when,  being  in  some  pecu- 
niary difficulties,  he  accepted  an  invita- 
tion to  America,  where  he  continued,  as 
actor  and  manager  for  twenty  years. 
The  rest  of  his  story  concerns  America, 
which,  though  it  may  not  prove  so 
amusing,  will  be  at  least  fuller  of  no- 
velty. 

Mrs.  Jordan  was  originally  known  as 
Miss  Francis.  Quarrelling  with  the 
Dublin  manager,  she  joined  Tate  Wil- 


kinson's corps  at  York,  where  she  took 
the  name  of  Jordan. 

As  I  had  never  heard  (says  Bernard)  that  Miss 
Francis  was  married,  I  inquired  of  Wilkinson  the 
cause,  and  he  replied,  "  Her  name  ?— Why,  God 
bless  you,  my  boy!  I  gave  her  her  name, — I  was 
her  sponsor." — "  You?"  —  "Yes:  when  she 
thought  of  going  to  London,  she  thought  Miss 
sounded  insignificant,  so  she  asked  me  to  advise 
her  a  name : — '  Why,'  said  I,  '  my  dear,  you 
have  crossed  the  water,  so  I'll  call  you  Jordan;' 
and  by  the  memory  of  Sam  !  if  she  didn't  take 
my  joke  in  earnest,  and  call  herself  Mrs.  Jordan 
ever  since."  This  was  Tale's  story  ;  but  as  it 
was  told  in  his  usual  ambiguous  way,  my  reader 
may  attach  what  credence  to  it  he  pleases. 

We  have  heard  a  different  story. 

Dining  one  day  at  a  party  in  Bath,  Quin  ut- 
tered something  which  caused  a  general  murmur 
of  delight.  A  nobleman  present,  who  was  not 
illustrious  for  the  brilliancy  of  his  ideas,  ex- 
claimed, "  What  a  pity  'tis,  Quin,  my  boy,  that 
a  clever  fellow  like  you  should  be  a  player !" 
Quin  fixed  and  flashed  his  eye  upon  the  person, 
with  this  reply,  "  What  would  your  Lordship 
have  me  be  ? — a  Lord!" 

Some  amusing  specimens  of  Norwich 
simplicity : — 

A  grazier  who  had  got  into  the  theatre  and  seen 
Griffith  play  Richard,  on  one  occasion  waited 
upon  the  manager  the  next  morning,  to  say,  that 
if  the  gentleman  who  wanted  a  horse  on  the  pre- 
vious evening  held  his  mind,  he  had  got  an  abun- 
dance of  cattle  in  his  meadows,  and  should  be 
happy  to  deal  with  him. 

The  Bristolians  were,  in  the  last 
century,  proverbially  called  Bristol 


Shuter,  when  in  the  height  of  his  popularity, 
visited  this  city  one  summer,  and  played  all  his 
favourite  characters  with  such  success,  that  on 
his  benefit-night  the  receipts  barely  covered  the 
charges.  The  next  day  he  took  a  handful  of  his 
neglected  night's  bills,  and  walking  in  the  midst 
of  a  principal  street,  strewed  them  about,  crying, 
"  Chuck,  chuck,  chuck  !"  (the  term  used  in  feed- 
ing their  swine.)  This  bold  experiment  on  their 
pride  and  generosity  proved  successful.  Shuter 
was  induced  to  try  a  second  night,  and  the  house 
was  tilled  up  to  the  ceiling. 

A  royal  pun : — 

Mrs.  Badclelcy  was  very  popular  in  her  day, 
for  the  harmonizing  sweetness  of  her  person  and 
voice  ;  unhappily,  she  was  also  distinguished  for 
some  imprudences  in  conduct.  A  Royal  Person- 
age was  very  much  pleased  with  her,  to  whom 
the  latter  circumstance  being  mentioned—"  Well, 
well,"  said  he,  with  a  generosity  that  always 
characterised  him,  "  she  may  have  performed 
'  Badly'  in  private,  but  in  public  ahe  is  very  good 
indeed !" 

One,  a  little  smarter,  of  Sheridan's : 
Sheridan  was  down  at  Brighton  one  summer, 
and  Fox,  desirous  of  shewing  him  some  civility, 
took  him  all  over  the  theatre,  and  exhibited  its 
beauties.  «'  There,  Mr.  Sheridan,"  said  he,  "  I 
constructed  tins  stage,— I  built  and  painted  those 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


595 


boxes,  and  I  painted  all  these  scenes."—"  Did 
you  ?"  said  Sheridan,  surveying  them  rapidly ; 
"  well,  I  should  not  have  known  you  were  a 
Fox  by  your  brush." 

Bernard's  account  of  Lawrence,  the 
late  President  of  the  Academy,  in  his 
boyhood,  is  a  very  interesting  one,  but 
much  too  long  to  quote :  he  takes  the 
credit  of  contributing  to  deter  him  from 
making  the  stage  his  profession.  Mrs. 
Hunn's  (Canning's  mother)  story,  com- 
ing as  it  does  from  one  who  knew  her 
well,  is  worthy  of  commemoration. 

Life  and  Correspondence  of  Sir  Thomas 
Munro — a  third  volume.  Edited  by  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Gleig — Though  we  think  a 
little  too  much  fuss  has  been  made  about 
Munro's  correspondence,  this  additional 
volume  is  acceptable  enough.  One  half 
of  it,  doubtless,  as  well  as  of  the  two 
former  volumes,  might  very  well  have 
been  withheld,  without  the  loss  of  any 
thing  of  public  interest  or  value.  Con- 
fessedly many  of  the  papers,  in  both 
portions  of  the  publication,  are  of  real 
importance,  and  we  are  willing  to  take 
the  chaff  with  the  grain,  especially  where 
the  sifting  is  not  very  laborious,  though 
it  might  have  been  easily  spared.  Mun- 
ro's thorough  acquaintance  with  India, 
coupled  with  an  unusual  power  of  easy 
communication,  throws  an  agreeable 
clearness  over  matters,  which  with 
most  writers  have  been  sufficiently 
cloudy,  while  his  ardent  devotion  to 
the  service  gives  a  vigour  and  de- 
finiteness  to  his  statements,  which  a 
cold  indifference  could  never  accom- 
plish. He  was  troubled  with  no  doubts 
or  qualms — the  subjugation  of  India  to 
English  domination  was  a  sort  of  pas- 
sion with  him,  and  the  most  vigorous 
measures  were  always  the  best,  because 
they  bade  fairest  to  be  most  decisive. 
When  in  authority — and  what  officer, 
however  humble,  in  India,  is  not  in  au- 
thority ? — while  the  natives  were  quiet 
and  submissive,  he  was  a  gentle  master 
enough,  but  he  had  no  toleration  for 
discontents.  If  they  did  not  look  happy 
he  was  for  making  them  so —as  many 
are  for  flogging  children  out  of  their 
sulks,  and  insisting  upon  smiles  and  a 
cheerful  demeanour. 

In  the  course  of  the  correspondence 
occur  letters  from  Colonel  Wellesley — 
the  contents  of  which  must  surely  have 
escaped  the  editor.  With  some  the 
glory  of  the  duke's  great  name  throws 
a  halo  around  him,  and  conceals  ugly 
features ;  but  the  editor  must  have 
known  there  are  sharp  eyes  on  all  sides, 
and  common  discretion  should  have 
taught  him  to  suppress  what,  in  a  pri- 
vate correspondence  with  a  brother  of- 
ficer of  congenial  sentiments,  might  pass 
very  well,  but  could  not  be  borne  by  the 
cool  and  general  reader.  Colonel  W. 


talks  of  destruction,  and  devastation, 
and  plunder,  with  the  tone  of  one  who 
enjoys  the  horrid  scenes.  "  Colonel  Mon- 
treser,"  says  he,  "  has  been  very  suc- 
cessful in  Bulum — has  beat,  burnt,  plun- 
dered, and  destroyed  in  all  parts  of  the 
country,"  &c. — "  I  have  taken  and  de- 
stroyed Doondiah's  baggage  and  guns,  and 
driven  into  the  river — where  they  were 
drowned— about 5,000 people,"  &c.  "My 
troops  are  in  high  health  and  spirits,  and 
their  pockets  full— the  produce  of  plun- 
der," &c.— Certainly,  the  coolest  state- 
ments we  remember. 

Encyclopaedia  Britannica.  Seventh  Edi- 
tion.— The  proprietors  of  this  popular 
Encyclopaedia  have  started  a  new  edi- 
tion, far  surpassing  all  its  predecessors 
in  the  mass  of  material,  and  in  splen- 
dour of  embellishment.  It  amalgamates, 
moreover,  the  well-known  supplement, 
and  will  bring,  of  course,  all  articles,  af- 
fected by  the  succeeding  discoveries  of 
science,  and  the  progress  of  public  events, 
to  a  level  with  the  period  of  publication. 
The  plates  are  new  engravings,  and  of 
the  first  class,  and  the  maps  are  to  be 
doubled  in  size.  Dugald  Stewart's  dis- 
sertation has  been  reprinted  from  a  copy 
corrected  and  added  to  by  the  author 
himself;  and  a  portion  of  it,  containing 
the  Ethical  Philosophy  of  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries,  'which 
Stewart  did  not  live  to  complete,  has 
been  contributed  by  Sir  James  Mackin- 
tosh. Sir  James's  piece  forms  a  part  of 
the  fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh  fasciculi, 
and  is  an  able  sketch  of  the  opinions 
of  ethic  philosophers,  from  Hobbes  to 
Brown,  preceded  by  a  glance  at  ancient 
ethics.  Sir  James's  estimate  of  Brown 
is  in  handsome  contrast  with  Stewart's 
pitiful  attempt  to  depreciate  the  man 
whose  rising  fame  was  already  eclipsing 
his  own. 

The  whole  work  is  pledged  not  to  ex- 
ceed twenty-one  volumes,  with  a  con- 
fident belief,  expressed  by  the  learned 
editor,  of  its  being  completed  in  twenty, 
each  volume  containing  800  full  and 


dose  pages,  at  36s. —consequently  be- 
all  former  prices.     "  Considering  its 


low 


extent  and  execution,"  observes  the 
editor,  "  it  will  present  the  cheapest 
digest  of  human  knowledge  that  has  yet 
appeared  in  Britain,  in  the  convenient 
form  of  a  dictionary,"— which  is  true  to 
the  letter. 

The  Animal  Kingdom,  described  and  ar- 
ranged in  Conformity  with  its  Organiza- 
tion, by  the  Baron  Cuvier,  with  Additions, 
8fc.  by  Edward  Griffith  and  others.  Part 
XXV. — This  very  superior  publication 
advances  rapidly.  The  portion  before 
us,  the  twenty-fifth,  commences  with 
the  Class  Reptilia,  and  comprises  the 
two  orders  of  Tortoises  and  Lizards — 


596 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[Nov. 


following  in  this  division,  Brogniart, 
who,  from  their  quantity  of  respiration 
and  organs  of  motion,  distributed  the 
Reptilia  into  four  orders — the  Tortoises, 
where  the  heart  has  two  auricles,  and 
the  body  is  supported  by  four  legs,  and 
is  enveloped  in  two  shields  or  plates 
joined  by  the  ribs  and  sternum— the 
JLizards,  where  the  heart  has  also  two 
auricles,  and  the  body  is  sustained  on 
four  and  sometimes  two  legs,  and  cover- 
ed with  scales — the  Serpents,  where 
likewise  the  heart  has  two  auricles,  but 
the  body  no  legs — and  the  Batracians, 
with  but  one  auricle,  and  a  naked  body. 
The  quantity  of  respiration  in  animals, 
according  to  Cuvier,  is  not  fixed,  like 
that  of  mammifera  and  birds,  but  varies 
with  the  proportion  which  the  diameter 
of  the  pulmonary  artery  bears  to  that 
of  the  aorta.  Thus  tortoises  and  lizards 
respire  considerably  more  than  frogs. 
Hence  proceed  differences  of  energy  and 
sensibility,  and  greater  than  can  exist 
in  quadrupeds  and  birds.  Accordingly 
reptiles  exhibit  forms,  movements,  and 
properties,  much  more  various ;  and  it 
is  in  them  that  Nature  has  furnished 
more  fantastic  shapes,  and  more  modi- 
fied the  general  plan  which  she  has  fol- 
lowed for  vertebrated  animals,  and  espe- 
cially for  the  viviparous  classes. 

A  Dictionary  of  the  Architecture  and 
Archaeology  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Part  I. 
— one  of  four.  By  John  Britton,  F.S.A., 
•$c Mr.  Britton's  well-earned  cele- 
brity in  the  department  of  Cathedral 
Antiquities,  is  a  security  for  a  compe- 
tent and  faithful  execution  of  a  work  of 
this  kind.  His  long  and  intimate  com- 
munion with  the  subject,  which  he  loves 
to  illustrate,  and  the  technicalities  of 
language  connected  with  it,  have  tho- 
roughly familiarized  him  with  their  ge- 
nuine and  specific  usages,  and  give  him 
a  kind  of  authority  in  any  attempt  to  fix 
and  explain  their  application.  The  work 
— very  beautifully  got  up — is  entitled, 
A  Dictionary  of  the  Architecture  and 
Archaeology  of  the  Middle  Ages,  but 
comprises  also  the  terms  used  by  old 
and  modern  authors  in  treating  of  archi- 
tecture and  other  antiquities,  accompa- 
nied with  etymologies,  definitions,  de- 
scriptions, and  historical  elucidations. 
To  justify  the  undertaking — if  any  jus- 
tification were  requisite — ne  says,  "  Pre- 
cision in  language  is  only  attainable  by 
slow  degrees ;  and  until  a  correct  lexi- 
con in  architecture  be  formed,  and  gene- 
rally, if  not  universally,  recognized, 
writers  will  be  likely  to  use  both  inac- 
curate and  in-apposite  terms.  A  cur- 
sory perusal  of  any  one  treatise  on  the 
architecture  of  the  middle  ages  will 
verify  these  assertions,  lleference  to 
the'  various  encyclopaedias  and  other 
dictionaries,  will  farther  shew  the  want 


of  a  work  expressly  devoted  to  this  sub- 
ject." We  may  refer  to  the  word  am- 
phitheatre,  in  the  portion  before  us,  as 
a  good  specimen  of  the  writer's  manner, 
and  the  kind  of  information  the  reader 
will  meet  with.  Towards  the  conclu- 
sion, he  observes — "wherever  the  Ro- 
mans settled  in  colonies,  they  construct- 
ed amphitheatres  of  turf,  termed  cas- 
trenses.  There  is  one  at  Cirencester, 
called  by  the  country  people  the  bull- 
ring; and  another,  at  Silchester,  is  en- 
graved in  Strutt's  Chronicles  of  Eng- 
land, Vol.  I.,  plate  8.  At  Dorchester  is 
also  one,  considered  the  finest  specimen 
remaining  in  England." 

Herman's  Elements  of  the  Doctrine  of 
Metres,  abridged  and  translated  by  the 
Rev.  John  Seager,  Rector  of  Welch  Bick- 
nor,  Monmouthshire. — Every  body  at  all 
acquainted  with  Herman  must  have 
found  his  metaphysics  as  repulsive  as 
his  peremptory  manner,  nor  can  any  one 
doubt  but  he  has  laid  down  laws  and 
discovered  distinctions,  of  which  the 
poets  themselves — the  inventors  and  ar- 
biters— never  dreamt.  But  his  meta- 
physical grounds  are  of  all  absurd  things 
the  absurdest — the  least  tenable — and 
Mr.  Seager  would  have  shewn  his  good 
sense  by  cutting  them  out  entirely.  Her- 
man's original  book  is,  we  believe,  by 
most  persons  past  all  reading,  and  he 
himself,  from  some  misgiving  of  the 
kind,  wisely  epitomised  it.  This  epi- 
tome the  indefatigable  rector  of  Welch 
Bicknor  has  in  almost  every  point  fol- 
lowed, not  only  out  of  deference  to  the 
author,  who  must  know  best,  it  seems 
to  have  been  thought,  how  to  abridge 
his  own  book,  but  because  the  said  epi- 
tome is  confessedly  superior  to  the  ori- 
ginal— it  had  the  benefit  of  the  author's 
second  thoughts.  As  we  have  thought, 
and  perhaps  said  of  some  others  of  Mr. 
Seager's  abridgments,  he  might  safely 
have  applied,  when  his  hand  was  in,  a 
greater  compressing  force.  Here  is 
more,  far  more,  than  any  consulter  of 
translations  and  epitomes  can  require ; 
and  as  to  others,  naturally,  they  will  go 
to  original  sources.  Something  better 
than  Seale's  miserable  book  was  doubt- 
less wanted,  and  even  perhaps  than 
Tate's,  but  Herman's  is  not  the  book 
for  English  schools  or  colleges.  We  are 
no  enemies  to  metrical  studies — they 
lead,  we  are  confident,  to  a  nicer  esti- 
mate of  equivalent  phrases— to  a  closer 
and  more  critical  acquaintance  with  the 
language;  but  the  point  of  utility  is 
soon  reached ;  and  stringing  longs  and 
shorts — the  work  of  boys  and  girls — 
soon  becomes  a  pitiful  substitute  for  the 
manly  search  into  the  sense  and  senti- 
ment of  the  writer. 

Sketches  and  Anecdotes  of  Horses,  by 
Captain  Brown, — Captain  Brown's  for- 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


597 


mer  volume  must  have  been  quite  a 
treasure  to  all  whose  "  talk  is  of  dogs ;" 
and  the  book  before  us,  that  of  the 
Horse,  as  a  pendant  should  be,  is  an 
admirable  match.  Books  in  abundance, 
and  excellent  ones  too,  Captain  Brown 
allows,  exist  on  the  subject,  but  all  of 
them  are  deficient  in  anecdote.  To  sup- 
ply this  deficiency,  accordingly,  he  lends 
his  best  efforts,  and  what  with  his  own 
extensive  experience,  and  that  of  his 
brother  sportsmen,  and  facts,  or  the  re- 
port of  facts,  gathered  from  books  of  all 
qualities  and  authorities,  he  has  made  a 
most  magnificent  collection,  swelling  to 
some  hundreds.  The  historical  portion, 
however,  occupies  a  considerable  space, 
and  betrays  a  liberal  use  of  Hewitt's 
Treatise — the  only  really  good  book,  by 
the  way,  published  by  the  "  Diffusion 
Society."  Captain  Brown's  history  com- 
mences, of  course,  with  Nimrod,  who 
was  not  only,  he  informs  us,  generally, 
on  the  authority  of  the  scriptures,  "  a 
mighty  hunter,"  but  particularly — tak- 
ing it  for  granted  he  rode  a  hunting — we 
know  not  on  what  authority,  "  very  bold 
and  dexterous  in  the  pursuit  of  animals 
of  the  chase ;" — and  ends  with  George 
the  Fourth,  who  gave,  the  Captain  af- 
firms, his  warmest  patronage  to  all  sorts 
of  field  diversions  and  racing,  and  un- 
remittingly participated  in  both.  But 
what  has  he  not  patronized,  asks  the 
Captain,  which  could  add  lustre  and 
honour  to  his  empire  ?  George  the 
Third,  too,  on  his  accession,  "  erected  a 
riding  school  for  the  royal  person,"  for 
himself;  practised  with  much  assiduity, 
and  became  an  accomplished  horseman. 
Farriery,  too,  was  greatly  indebted  to 
him,  and  such  has  been  the  influence  of 
his  example,  that  at  last,  it  seems,  a  lec- 
tureship has  been  instituted,  in  the 
land  of  lectures,  Edinburgh,  the  chair 
of  which  is  at  present  filled  by  Mr. 
Dick,  an  accomplished  professional  gen- 
tleman. 

llacing,  too,  all  our  readers  may  not 
know,  has  been  the  subject  of  grave  le- 
gislation— to  keep  the  diversion  within 
aristocratic  limits.  An  Act  of  13  George 
II.  c.  19,  has  a  preamble,  which  could 
have  proceeded  from  no  public  body  in 
the  world  but  an  English  House  of  Com- 
mons—it  is  expressly  to  "prevent  the 
multiplicity  of  horse-races — the  encou- 
ragement of  idleness— and  the  impover- 
ishment of  the  meaner  sort  of  people." 
The  first  clause  prohibits  matches  below 
£50.  except  at  Newmarket,  and  some 
other  place  in  Yorkshire ;  but  some  years 
after,  the  legislature  having  nothing  else 
to  do,  and  not  choosing  longer  to  restrict 
themselves,  made  another  act,  and  ex- 
tended the  privilege  to  every  usual  race- 
course. By  the  9  Anne,  c.  14,  all  wagers 
above  £10.  on  a  lawful  course  are  de- 
clared illegal !  Those,  it  may  be  said, 


perhaps,  who  make   laws    may   surely 
break  them ! 

In  the  reign  of  William,  Lord  Somers 
applied  to  the  Master  of  the  Horse, 
then  the  Duke  of  Dorset,  to  obtain  a 
"  plate"  for  Hereford.  The  Master  re- 
plied, "  that  there  were  only  20  plates 
provided  for  from  the  public  purse,  and 
any  addition  must  come  from  the  privy 
purse,  and  would  burden  his  majesty." 
In  the  reign  of  Anne,  however,  some 
lover  of  the  turf  saddled  his  estate  with 
the  payment  of  1,300  guineas  for  thir- 
teen plates  (pieces  of  plate  in  the  shape 
of  cups — now  given  in  money),  to  be  run 
for  at  such  places  as  the  crown  should 
appoint.  The  intention  of  the  donor 
was  defeated,  for,  it  seems,  this  money 
goes  towards  the  payment  of  the  old 
royal  plates.  Do  the  2,000  guineas  still 
proceed  from  the  Treasury,  and  if  so, 
what  becomes  of  the  difference  ? 

Captain  Brown's  anecdotes  are,  many 
of  them,  well  authenticated  and  suffi- 
ciently memorable — they  relate  to  the 
docility,  sagacity,  habits,  powers,  and 
performances  of  the  animal.  All  the 
most  remarkable  matches  on  record  are 
given.  He  has  got  up  his  book  in  some 
haste,  as  all  books  are  indeed  now  a- 
days — the  only  chance  writers  have  of 
not  being  forestalled.  Galloways,  in  one 
place,  are  described  as  sprung  from  some 
stallions  that  swam  to  the  shores  of  Gal- 
loway from  the  wreck  of  the  Spanish 
Armada,  and  coupled  with  the  mares  of 
the  country.  In  another  place,  the  same 
story  is  repeated,  with  the  correcting 
remark,  that  Galloway  horses  were  fa- 
mous as  early  as  Edward  I.  The  same 
pedigree  is  ascribed  to  the  New  Forest 
breed,  though  at  the  other  extremity 
of  the  country.  Old  Marsk,  a  son  of 
Eclipse,  it  seems,  on  better  authority, 
ran  wild  in  the  forest,  and  probably  im- 
proved the  breed. 

Novices  may  learn  to  correct  their 
phraseology  by  Captain  Brown's  book — 
for  instance,  they  must  talk  of  a  head  of 
harts  —  a  bey  of  roes— a  sounder  of  wild 
bears — a  rout  of  wolves — a  richess  of 
martins — a  brace,  and  leash  of  bucks, 
foxes,  or  hares — but  a  couple  of  rabbits. 

Again — the  tail  of  a  fox  is  the  brush, 
or  drag— of  all  the  deer-tribe,  the  single 
— of  a  boar,  the  wreath — of  a  wolf,  the 
stern — of  a  hare  and  rabbit,  the  scut. 

To  talk  of  three  hounds  betrays  de- 
plorable ignorance — a  couple  and  half  is 
the  phrase.  If  they  are  greyhounds,  a 
leash  will  be  correct.  And  be  it  remem- 
bered, greyhounds  are  let  slip,  while 
hounds  are  cast  off,  &c. 

Imilda  de"1  Lambertazzi,  <f-c.  By  Sophia 
Mary  Bigsby.  —  The  Guelph  and  Ghi- 
beline  factions  of  Italy  split  every  town 
with  intestine  hostilities,  and  embittered 
every  neighbourhood  with  domestic 


598 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[Nov. 


feuds.     The  young  did  not  always  shr\re 
the  exasperations  and  enmities  of  the 
elders  ;  and  the  records  of  Bologna  pre- 
sent the  counterpart  of  the  Capuletsand 
Montagues  of  Verona.  A  Gieremei  and 
a  Lambertazzi  unhappily  and  perversely 
fell  in  love  with  each  other,  and  indulged 
in   stolen  interviews.     The  fiery  bro- 
thers of  Imilda  discovered  the  inter- 
course, and  broke  in  upon  the  fond  pair. 
The  lover  was  dispatched  with  poisoned 
daggers — the    lady    fled,  but  returned 
when  all  was  quiet,  tracked  the  body  by 
the  blood-drops,  sucked  the  venom  from 
the  wound,  and  perished  self-devoted. 
The  painful  tale  affords  opportunities 
for  a  scene  or  two  of  passion,  which  are 
happily  seized,  and  spiritedly  executed : 
— She  yet  might  be  in  time  to  save, 
Or  share  where'er  might  be  his  grave  ; 
And  guided  but  by  the  blood-drops  strewn 
Along  the  paths,  she  hurried  on, 
The  fire  of  madness  was  in  her  brain, 
And  in  her  heart  its  scorching  pain  — 
While  following  still  each  gory  trace, 
She  came  at  length  to  a  desert  place, 
A  court-yard,  long  unused,  and  there — 
God  help  her  now  in  her  wild  despair! — 
There  lay  her  murdered  love !— one  bound, 
And  she  was  at  his  side,  and  wound 
Gently  her  pale  arms  round  the  form 
Stretched  lifeless  there — it  yet  was  warm! 
And  with  frantic  energy  she  unbound 
The  garments  from  his  breast,  and  found 
A  gaping  wound,  from  whose  blackening  hue 
At  the  first  shuddering  glance,  she  knew 
Was  wrought    by  poison  ;— then,    then  the 

whole 

Of  woman's  deep  faith  rushed  o'er  her  soul  I 
That  poisoned  wound  to  her  lips  she  prest 
To  suck  the  venom  forth — still  blest, 
If  by  her  own  life's  sacrifice, 
Light  yet  might  gleam  o'er  his  rayless  eyes. 
— In  vain!  in  vain  !  there  came  no  breath 
Back  to  the  lips  fast  closed  in  death  ; 
And  her's — soon,  soon  grew  parched  and  wan, 
As  the  poison  through  every  vein  quick  ran  ; 
Faint,  and  more  faint,  her  breathing  grew, 
And  her  cheek  wore  a  livid  hue, 
And  the  strange  light  in  her  glassy  eye 
Was  struck  by  cold  mortality. 
From  her  failing  limbs  the  strength  soon  past, 
And  she  sunk,  'neath  the  shadow  of  Death, 
at  last. 

The  tale  occupies  but  a  small  portion  of 
the  volume.  That  is  eked  out  with  a 
number  of  occasional  pieces — all  of  them 
indicative  of  deep  but  painful  feeling — 
distinguished  for  directness  of  thought, 
and  more  independence  of  manner  than 
usually  accompanies  similar  scraps. 

The  Book  of  Scotland,  by  William  Cham- 
lers — This  is  really  something  like  what 
a  book  should  be — full  of  information — 
and  that  upon  topics  in  which  thousands, 
if  they  have  not  a  direct  interest— as 
they  have  not  perhaps  in  nine-tenths  of 
Avhat  they  concern  themselves  about — 
have  yet  an  indirect  one,  in  marking  the 


influence  of  public  institutions  upon  a 
large  integral  portion  of  the  nation,  and 
at  least  in  the  indulgence  of  a  liberal 
curiosity.  The  subjects  are  neither  new 
nor  strange,  but  we  know  not  where  a 
general  view  of  them  can  be  got  at  at 
all,  and  certainly  no  where  so  completely 
and  so  satisfactorily  as  in  Mr.  Chambers' 
book.  A  similar  volume  for  every  coun- 
try in  Europe  would  be  a  welcome  ac- 
quisition, but  one  that  is  all  but  hope- 
less. Mr.  Chambers  has  well  considered 
his  subject,  and  attempts  nothing  but 
what  he  shews  himself  perfectly  com- 
petent to  accomplish.  He  is  perhaps 
something  too  discussive,  where  little 
more  than  description  and  statement 
were  required ;  but  in  general,  the  reader 
will  readily  excuse  what,  while  it  seems 
occasionally  to  interrupt,  often  eventu- 
ally adds  to  his  information. 

The  Scotch  government  before  the 
Union,  and  the  changes  which  took  place 
on  that  event,  are  distinctly  and  learn- 
edly stated — his  acquaintance  with  the 
times  is  obvious.  The  local  adminis- 
tration and  municipal  institutions  fol- 
low, with  the  courts  of  judicature,  civil 
and  criminal.  The  more  prominent  and 
peculiar  laws  and  usages  are  then  ex- 
hibited—such as  relate  to  debtor  and 
creditor,  landlord  and  tenant,  master 
and  servant,  the  game  laws,  marriage, 
management  of  the  poor,  the  licensing 
system,  customs  of  heritable  and  move- 
able  property,  entails,  registration,  &c. 
Then  follow  the  important  topics  of  the 
Scotch  church,  schools,  banking  system, 
&c.,  every  one  of  which  numerous  sub- 
jects involves  matters  of  comparison 
with  English  practice,  and  also  of  dis- 
cussion. We  have  no  space  for  parti- 
culars: but  the  chapter  on  the  subject 
of  pauperism  perhaps  struck  us  more 
remarkable,  for  the  ability  with  which  it 
is  stated  and  discussed,  than  any  other. 
The  poor  laws  of  Scotland  are  pretty 
much  of  the  same  nature  with  those  of 
England,  and  have  existed  from  nearly 
about  the  same  period,  but  they  were 
not  so  early,  nor  have  they  been  so  ge- 
nerally, enforced.  Compulsory  assess- 
ments, however,  now  pervade  half  the 
parishes  of  Scotland ;  and  as  those  are 
precisely  the  most  populous  districts,  of 
course  but  a  small  portion  of  Scotland 
can  any  longer  boast  of  independence  of 
poor  laws.  The  career  01  pauperism 
has  been  rapid  in  Scotland.  In  addition 
to  the  common  causes  which  perhaps  in- 
evitably exist  in  the  progress  of  luxury, 
the  separation  of  classes  has  precipi- 
tated the  matter — brought  about  by  pe- 
culiarities in  Scotland  more  traceable 
and  definable  than  elsewhere. 

The  withdrawal  of  the  rich  from  the  poor  can 
be  referred  in  this  country,  with  great  accuracy, 
to  the  invention  of  building  new  towns  at  certain 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


J90 


convenient  distances  from  the  old.  The  practice 
was  little  known  eighty  years  since  ;  and  the  fa- 
Rhion  seems  to  have  been  led  by  the  citizens  of 
Edinburgh,  towards  the  year  1770.  Strangers 
and  others  who  have  seen  this  splendid  and  ro- 
mantic town,  are  mostly  struck  with  the  contrast 
between  the  old  town,  occupying  a  central  ridge 
of  ground,  and  the  new  and  new-new  towns,  ly- 
ing at  easy  distances  across  the  ravines,  on  its 
north  and  southern  quarters.  Before  these  lat- 
ter places  of  residence  were  built  for  the  accom- 
modation of  the  upper  and  nearly  all  the  middle 
ranks,  the  whole  population,  then  amounting  to 
60,0()0  persons,  was  crowded  into  the  ancient 
city.  All  degrees  of  rank  were  thus,  as  a  matter 
of  necessity,  placed  in  the  immediate  proximity 
of  each  other,  and  a  state  of  society  was  pro- 
duced of  a  very  peculiar  nature.  Like  the  tene- 
ments in  Paris,  and  most  of  the  towns  in  the  Ita- 
lian states,  the  lands,  or  fabrics  of  houses,  were 
divided  into  flats  or  separate  dwellings,  with  their 
individual  outer  doors  to  the  lands  or  landing- 
places  on  the  stair,  which  was  common  to  all  par- 
ties. As  is  the  practice  still  in  the  above  foreign 
towns,  each  flat  had  its  distinct  degree  of  respec- 
tability; and  the  rank  of  the  tenant  was  lowered 
in  quality  in  proportion  to  his  distance  from  the 
ground  floor.  Peers,  lords  of  session,  clergymen, 
advocates,  attornies,  shopkeepers,  dancing-mas- 
ters, artizans,  and  others  in  a  still  lower  grade, 
occupied  flats  and  half  flats  from  the  first  to  the 
eighth  story.  The  cellar  was,  moreover,  dedicated 
to  the  use  of  a  cobbler,  chimney-sweep,  or  water- 
carrier,  with  a  shop  constructed  on  the  street- 
level,  when  the  land  faced  a  great  thoroughfare; 
each  tenement  thus  exhibiting  a  specimen  of  the 
chief  component  parts  of  a  little  town.  And  as 
nearly  all  the  houses  partook  of  the  same  charac- 
ter, both  on  the  main  street  and  in  the  alleys  or 
closes,  it  will  be  perceived,  that  the  society  of  the 
place  must  have  been  formed  in  adaptation  to  the 
tangible  peculiarities  of  the  town. 

There  arose  much  of  what  would  now  be  reckon- 
ed as  discomfortable,  from  a  residence  in  such 
hampered  situations  ;  but  allowing  this  to  be  true, 
the  system  of  all  classes  congregating  in  the  im- 
mediate proximity  of  each  other,  had  an  excellent 
effect  in  keeping  the  number  of  poor  within  bounds, 
and  in  preventing  the  introduction  of  assessments. 
The  rich  took  an  interest  in  their  "poor  neigh- 
bours," (that  being,  let  it  be  remarked,  the  appel- 
lation of  the  destitute  and  poor  at  the  time  of 
which  we  write,)  and  these  in  return  paid  them  by 
condescendence  and  real  respect.  All  was  so  well 
arranged,  that  each  mutually  conferred  a  benefit 
on  the  other.  When  a  humble,  and  apparently 
very  honest  family,  known  to  the  neighbourhood, 
lost  its  chief  support  by  the  sudden  death  of  a  pa- 
vent — when  sickness  and  want  had  entered  their 
dwelling— or  when  any  minor  misfortune  overtook 
the  poor  inhabitants  of  the  stair,  the  whole  land 
was  interested,  and  the  intelligence  spread  by 
means  of  an  understream  of  communication,  at 
all  times  current  through  the  medium  of  gossips, 
servants,  or  hair-dressers,  the  latter  of  whom  then 
acted  as  a  species  of  morning  newspaper  to  the 
upper  classes. 

So  well  as  Mr.  Chalmers  writes,  he 
might  surely,  with  very  little  trouble, 
have  excluded  such  vulgar  Scotticisms 
as  —  notwithstanding  of — to  remember  of 
a  thing— till,  for  to — thereby,  for  there- 


abouts — •  and  his  usage  of  condescend, 
which  is  quite  unintelligible  to  English 
ears,  for  instance — we  could  not  here 
condescend  on  the  precise  sum  which  is 
still  paid  out  of  the  Exchequer  annually 
to  Scottish  sinecurists.  Does  he  mean 
ascertain  ? 

Matilda,  a  Poem,  by  H.  Ingram. — A 
more  harmless  amusement  than  string- 
ing syllables  into  verse  there  cannot  well 
be — it  is  occupation — it  is  delightful  to 
the  performer. 

There  is  a  pleasure  in  poetic  pains 

Which  none  but  poets  know.  The  shifts  and 
turns, 

The  expedients  and  inventions  multiform,  &c. 

as  Cowper  has  it,  whom  Nature  meant 
for  a  satirist,  and  surely  was  no  idealist. 
The  poet — the  man  or  woman  whose  in- 
spirations are  to  be  read— is  the  one  who 
is  prompted  from  within  to  give  expres- 
sion to  glowing  and  forcing  feelings— the 
result,  perchance,  of  some  finer  organi- 
zation, which  makes  sensations  of  mere 
perceptions,  and  endows  the  inanimate 
with  life  and  vigour — which  deadens  the 
eye  towards  the  coarse  and  common, 
and  catches  at  a  glance  the  sublime,  the 
beautiful,  the  beau-ideal  of  moral  or 
physical  conception — and  evolves,  while 
to  the  vulgar  it  seems  only  to  subtilize, 
delicate  relations  and  new  imaginings. 
This  is  the  poet—  not  the  mere  imitator 
of  others'  developments — not  even  he 
who  comprehends,  and  tastes,  and  re- 
lishes them — and  certainly  not  the  man 
who  does  nothing  but  turn  prose  into 
measure  by  the  adoption  of  certain  jing- 
lings,  and  cadences,  and  faded  flowers  of 
speech — and  least  of  all  by  the  scribbler 
of  metrical  novels — the  most  wearisome 
of  man's  idlest  productions ! 

The  tale  before  us  concerns  the  Cru- 
sades, and  covers  some  eight  or  ten  thou- 
sand lines — the  writer,  no  doubt,  still 
young — which  proves  with  what  unen- 
viable facility  words  and  phrases,  now 
that  their  channels  are  so  well  worn, 
run  into  metre.  Nobody,  now-a-days, 
will  take  quantity  for  quality— at  least 
not  in  verse. 

It  is  scarcely  worth  while  to  quote 
mere  mediocrity — every-day  workman- 
ship ; — neither  gods,  nor  men,  nor  book- 
sellers, it  used  to  be  said,  could  tolerate 
middling  poetry — the  latter,  however, 
find  their  shelves  groan  with  it.  But, 
think  of  encountering — 

O  !  what  forms  of  love 

Bright  glancing,  graced  the  balcony  above  ! 

There  peerless  dames  their  radiant  charms  dis- 
played, 

Whose  eyes,  more  potent  than  Damascus' 
blade, 

Now  fierce  as  summer  suns,  now  mildly  bright, 

Like  twinkling  stars  that  gem  the  vault  of 

night. — &c. 
Smooth  enough,  but  mortally  fade. 


600 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[Nov. 


Rudiments  of  the  Primary  Forces  of 
Gravity,  Magnetism,  and  Electricity,  in 
their  Agency  on  the  Heavenly  Bodies,  by 
P.  Murphy,  Esq. — With  mathematical 
astronomy  Mr.  Murphy  has  nothing  to 
do ;  he  doubts  not  astronomers  are,  on 
the  whole,  correct  enough  as  to  the  data 
on  which  they  estimate  the  magnitudes 
and  distances  of  the  celestial  bodies,  and 
calculate  their  orbicular  and  rotary  mo- 
tion. His  concern  is  wholly  with  what 
is  usually  styled  physical  astronomy — 
the  causes  in  which  the  positive  move- 
ments and  internal  phenomena  of  these 
bodies  have  their  source.  Newton's  gra- 
vitation does  not  satisfy  him,  any  more 
than  it  did  the  author  himself,  though  it 
seems  pretty  generally  to  have  done  so 
with  most  or  all  of  his  disciples.  The 
truth  is,  astronomers,  since  his  time, 
have  turned  their  attention  wholly  from 
the  question  of  causes,  and  confined 
themselves  rigidly  to  observation.  It 
is  their  boast  to  spurn  speculation — and 
their  ambition  aspires  to  nothing  beyond 
the  field-view  of  the  telescope,  and  the 
construction  of  tables.  To  Mr.  Murphy 
this  seems  a  pitiful  ambition — he  is  for 
bringing  into  play  whatever  will  contri- 
bute to  the  prosecution  of  his  favourite 
pursuit.  The  chemist  and  the  electri- 
cian have  detected  facts  and  principles 
which  to  him  seem  capable  of  develop- 
ing other  mysteries.  He  communicates 
his  views,  accordingly,  to  the  Astrono- 
mical Society,  and  Mr.  South — we  for- 
get his  knighthood,  but  not  his  pension 
—Sir  Something  South  carelessly  an- 
swers— we  know  nothing  about  electri- 
city. But  Mr.  Murphy  might  have 
known  he  was  communicating  with  the 
wrong  quarter.  Sir  James  and  his  co- 
terie are  mere  star-  gazers — very  useful 
observers  and  collectors  of  dry  facts — 
filliping  the  Greenwich  establishment 
too,  which  requires  the  fillip — but  no 
philosophers,  nor  do  they  wish  to  be,  in 
any  valuable  application  of  the  term. 
Physical  astronomy  is  out  of  their  de- 
partment, and  it  is  only  for  the  general 
philosopher — such  perhaps  as  Mr.  Mur- 
phy deserves  to  be  considered — to  turn 
the  labours  of  all  particular  departments 
to  his  own  general  purposes. 

Mr,  Murphy  has  evidently  given  the 
deepest  consideration  to  the  subject,  but 
he  is  apparently  incapable  of  communi- 
cating with  any  efficiency— he  does  not 
want  force — his  own  convictions.  We 
scarcely  ever  met  with  a  book — the  pro- 
duction of  a  cultivated  person  —  con- 
structed with  so  little  method  and  clear- 
ness. He  is  perpetually  claiming  the 
merit  of  discoveries,  but  the  grounds 
and  the  process  are  wrapt  in  such  invo- 
lutions of  phrase,  that  "  panting  sense 
toils  after  him  in  vain."  The  author 
began  to  write  too  soon  pkinly — be  dis- 
covers, as  he  calls  it,  as  he  goes ;  and 


many  of  the  early  parts  of  his  book  are 
superseded  by  the  later.  Voltaire  ob- 
serves, says  he,  "  II  faut  avouer  qu'en 
tout  genre  les  premiers  essais  sont  tou- 
jours  grossiers."  With  this  conviction 
upon  him,  he  should  have  kept  a  more 
vigilant  eye  upon  his  own  "  essais." 
Over  and  over  again  he  talks  of  the 
three  primary  forces,  on  which,  more  or 
less,  all  astronomical  phenomena  depend. 
Newton's  old  attraction,  and  our  mo- 
dern magnetism  and  electricity.  Yet, 
at  other  times,  this  universal  gravita- 
tion is  undistinguishable  from  mag- 
netism, and  then,  again,  from  electri- 
city ;  and  by  and  by,  again,  magnetism 
and  electricity  are -pronounced  identi- 
cal, and  so,  of  course,  finally,  electricity 
is  the  sole  operative  cause.  Mr.  Mur- 
phy is  much  too  precipitate  and  peremp- 
tory to  gain  confidence — not  long  ago 
he  published  a  book  denying  the  exist- 
ence altogether  of  electricity — and  now 
it  is  all  in  all.  The  moon,  we  believe 
we  represent  him  correctly,  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  tides— now  she  not  only 
governs  the  tides,  but  the  weather  too, 
at  sea  and  on  land— he  has  discovered 
such  close  analogies  as  must  remove  all 
doubt.  Electricity  is  the  one  cause  of 
all — the  sun  is  positive  —  the  planets 
negative;  from  thence  he  gets  light — 
thence  all  motion,  both  orbicular  and 
rotary— thence,  too,  the  ellipticity  of 
their  orbits,  &c.  &c.  Mr.  Murphy  must 
write  his  book  over  again,  if  he  hopes  to 
make  any  impression.  There  is  stuff'  in 
his  pages,  but  it  is  fairly  smothered. 
He  may  take  our  word  for  it,  nobody 
will  read  it  in  its  present  confused  and 
embarrassed  condition.  The  manner 
even  is  worse  than  the  method — he  must 
construct  his  sentences  upon  simpler 
principles.  It  is  not — though^  in  his 
preface  he  seems  to  think  it  is  —  the 
inevitable  consequence  of  the  complexity 
of  his  subject,  but  the  result  of  his  own 
undisciplined  habits  of  composition. 

Library  of  Entertaining  Knowledge. 
Vol  VII.  Part  I. — The  most  complete 
and  copious  account  of  the  elephant  that 
has  ever  been  put  together.  The  com- 
piler has  availed  himself  of  all  the  most 
recent  intelligence,  and  books  for  his 
purpose  have  of  late  abounded — Shipp's 
Memoirs,  Pringle's  Notes,  Cowper 
Rose's  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  Ranking, 
Colonel  Welsh— in  addition  to  all  the 
older  authorities  within  his  reach.  The 
peculiarities  of  the  animal  are  now  well 
understood,  and,  above  all,  the  Com- 
pany's establishments  in  India  have  fur- 
nished facilities  for  correct  information 
that  were  never  before  accessible  to  the 
naturalist.  Evidence  now  quite  irre- 
sistible exists  of  the  young  sucking  with 
its  mouth,  and  of  the  elephant  breeding 
in  a  domestic  state — too  proud,  as  he 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


601 


was  affirmed  to  be*  to  multiply  slaves. 
All  this  kind  of  nonsense  vanishes  be- 
fore precise  inquiry.  The  elephant  of 
the  menageries  occupies  the  writer's 
first  division  of  his  subject.  His  struc- 
ture is  next  exhibited  in  connection 
with  his  natural  habits.  Then  comes 
the  Indian  elephant  in  a  state  of  con- 
finement—his fertility  in  that  state — his 
growth  —  and  the  modes  of  capturing 
wild  ones  in  Asia.  Then  the  African 
elephant,  and  descriptions  of  elephant 
hunts.  Then  their  domestic  employ- 
ment in  the  East — training— docility — 


travelling— sports— exhibitions  of  cruel- 
ty—  processions  and  ceremonies  —  and, 
finally,  their  employment  in  the  wars  of 
modern  Asia.  The  author  has  neglected 
no  source  of  accurate  information — as  to 
either  the  elephant's  wild  state  or  do- 
mestic one— his  anatomical  structure — or 
his  habits  and  propensities— and  has  sup- 
plied a  volume  that  classes  justly  under 
the  title  of  Entertaining  Knowledge. 
The  cuts  are  numerous,  and  though 
some  of  them  are  coarse,  all  of  them  are 
spirited,  and  much  to  the  purpose. 


FINE  ARTS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


THE    ANNUALS. 

THE  appearance  of  the  illustrations  of 
certain  of  these  "  elegant  trifles"  last  month 
— the  blossom  of  the  fruit  that  was  to  fol- 
low— the  gold-laced  outriders  of  the  gay 
procession — prepared  us  for  the  scene  which 
we  now  survey  ;  a  table  covered  with  lite- 
rary luxuries,  dainties  that  too  often  excite 
the  palate  without  gratifying  it — and  that 
resemble  rather  the  French  dishes  and  con- 
fectionary of  a  repast  than  the  more  solid 
essentials  that  should  accompany  them. 
Let  us  make  the  most  of  our  dessert,  then, 
in  the  absence  of  a  dinner ;  let  us  endea- 
vour to  subsist  for  a  time  upon  the  "  smiles 
and  wine"  that  they  offer ;  and  if  we 
cannot  say  much  for  their  flavour,  let  us 
content  ourselves  with  the  poetical  assu- 
rance that  they  are  really  of  "  the  brightest 
hue." 

It  is  of  little  consequence  which  we  take 
up  first.  Which  lies  nearest  us  ?  the 
Friendship's  Offering.  Here  it  is — at  once 
elegant  and  substantial.  The  talents  of 
Leslie  and  Humpbrys  have  been  actively 
employed  upon  the  opening  plate — Ade- 
laide ;  it  is  a  fair  and  tasteful  commence- 
ment. The  Last  Look  can  scarcely  be 
called  a  look  of  any  kind ;  so  foolish  an 
expression  would  destroy  the  effect  of  a 
much  better  performance  than  this.  The 
Maid  of  Rajast'han,  by  Col.  James  Tod 
and  E.  Finden,  is  an  Indian  gem — soft 
and  sparkling.  The  kneeling  lover  in  the 
Rejected,  awnkens  very  little  surprise  in  us 
that  the  lady  should  disdain  him  ;  though 
he  might  justly  return  the  compliment,  for 
she  is  scarcely  less  lack-a-daisical.  The 
Accepted,  a  companion  to  this,  is  quite 
worthy  of  it.  The  Mountain  Torrent, 
Puser  and  Goodall,  is,  with  the  exception 
of  the  water,  a  very  beautiful  production  ; 
though  still  inferior  to  St.  Mark's  Place, 
Venice — Prout  and  Roberts— one  of  the 
sweetest  and  most  sunny  that  we  have  seen. 
It  seems  touched  with  Italian  light.  Asca- 
nius  in  the  Lap  of  Venus,  Wood  and 
Davenport,  is  another ;,  it  is  a.,  graceful, 
spirited,  and  poetical  composition,  delicately 
sngraved.  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  is  remark- 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  5f). 


able  for  being  the  worst  of  the  thousand 
and  one  Marys  that  we  remember ;  but  it 
is  amply  atoned  for  by  the  beauty  of  the 
Halt  of  the  Caravan,  Purser  and  Brandard, 
which  is  novel,  brilliant,  and  picturesque. 
Auld  Robin  Gray,  though  too  dark,  evinces 
the  proper  feeling  of  the  ballad — it  is  by 
Rolls,  from  a  picture  by  Wood.  Carlo 
Dolci  crowns  the  volume  with  the  head  of 
Poesie,  to  which  Wm.  Finden  has  given 
all  the  warmth,  tenderness  and  finish  that 
an  engraving  of  this  size  is  susceptible 
of.  Of  the  literature  we  shall  say  little 
— because  we  think  little  of  it.  Miss 
Mitford's  Country  Tale,  that  opens  the 
volume,  and  Mr.  St.  John's  Valley  of 
the  Shadow  of  Death,  that  terminates  it, 
are  among  the  best.  The  latter  is  strik- 
ingly impressive.  Mr.  M'Farlane's  Tale 
of  Venice,  Mrs.  Hall's  Patty  Conway,  Mr. 
Banim's  Stolen  Sheep,  Mr.  Fraser's  Halt 
of  the  Caravan  ;  and  among  the  poetry 
Mary  Howitt's  Countess  Lamberti,  are 
papers  of  superior  merit — equalled  by  two 
or  three  others  ;  and  for  the  rest,  the  at- 
traction lies  principally  in  the  names — 
among  which  are  those  of  Kennedy,  Barry 
Cornwall,  Hon.  Mrs.  Norton,  Leitch  Ritchie, 
T.  H.  Bayly,  Allan  Cunningham,  Miss 
Jewsbury,  Dr.  Bowring,  Mr.  Pringle,  Mr. 
Hervey,  &c.  &c. 

The  above  remarks  will  apply,  almost 
word  for  word,  to  the  Forget-Me-Not. 
Yet,  perhaps,  upon  the  whole,  there  are 
fewer  blemishes  and  fewer  beauties.  The 
first  plate,  Queen  Esther,  has  all  the  pecu- 
liarities of  Martin,  with  few  of  his  excel- 
lences ;  and  the  vignette  is  despicably 
tasteless  and  absurd.  The  False  One,  by 
Miss  Sharpe  and  J.  Agar,  is,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  two  principal  figures,  an 
elegant  composition.  An  Italian  Scene,  by 
Barrett  and  Freebairn,  is  pleasingly  exe- 
cuted ;  and  the  Cat's  Paw  of  E.  Landseer, 
engraved  by  Graves,  though  not  clearly 
made  out,  is  full  of  humour.  The  Political 
Cobbler,  Chisholme  and  Shenton,  and  the 
Japanese  Palace,  Prout  and  Carter,  also 
evince  opposite  orders  of  merit.  If  the 
lady  whom  Mr.  Corbould  has  represented 

4   G 


602 


Fine  Arts'  Publications. 


[Nov. 


as  a  Disconsolate  should  happen  to  rise, 
she  would  inevitably  strike  her  head  against 
the  centre  of  a  very  high  arch  under  which 
she  is  sitting.  Lady  Beaufort  is  a  pretty 
engraving,  but  it  wants  sentiment.  The 
Noontide  Retreat,  Philipps  and  Agar,  is 
scarcely  worth  the  compliments  paid  to  it 
in  the  preface.  The  Boa  Ghaut,  W. 
Westall  and  E.  Finden,  is  one  of  the  pret- 
tiest of  the  landscape  embellishments.  The 
literature  comprises  specimens  of  all  kinds  ; 
a  Sea  Story,  by  Hogg ;  the  Grave  of  the 
Indian  King,  by  W.  L.  Stone  ;  the  Death 
of  Charles  L,  by  Miss  Mitford;  My  Great 
Grandmother's  Harpsicord,  by  T.  H.  Bayly, 
are  among  the  happiest  sketches.  It  has 
been  said  that  Mr.  Hood  should  not  have 
put  his  name  to  the  verses  called  the  Painter 
Puzzled  ;  we  think  he  was  quite  right,  for 
they  would  hardly  have  found  insertion  any 
where  without  it. 

We  next  take  the  Juvenile  Forget-Me- 
Not  of  Mr.  Ackermann — a  younger  sister, 
but  approaching  close  to  it  in  beauty,  and, 
we  must  say  it,  in  defects  also.  The  In- 
fant Samuel,  by  Holmes  and  Woolnoth, 
opens  the  volume  well.  It  is  a  sweet  head 
one  in  which  purity  and  elevation  of  cha- 
racter are  blended  with  the  simplicity  of 
infancy.  The  Juvenile  Masquerade,  C. 
Landseer  and  H.  Rolls,  is  a  pretty  graceful 
composition;  and  so  would  the  Juvenile 
Architect  have  been,  had  not  an  old  Soldier 
with  a  cocked  hat,  and  a  book  in  his  hand, 
fixed  himself  in  the  very  front  of  the  pic- 
ture, when  he  has  evidently  no  business 
there.  Something  is  meant,  we  presume, 
though  we  do  not  understand  what.  The 
Breakfast  is  engraved  by  Chevalier,  by 
whom  it  was  painted  we  know  not ;  the 
plate  says  by  Sir  William  Beechey — the 
list  of  them  attributes  it  to  Corbould.  It  is 
pretty,  but  too  dark.  "  Who'll  serve  the 
King  ?"  is  from  Farrier's  picture.  Ander- 
nach  and  Going  to  Market,  are  both  pleas- 
ing, which  is  all  they  were  intended  to  be. 
Of  the  literature  of  this  little  volume, 
although  we  find  one  or  two  things  not 
quite  adapted  for  children,  and  which,  in- 
deed, are  calculated  to  mislead  them,  we 
•would  willingly,  had  we  space,  select  a 
specimen.  There  are  several  pleasing  things 
in  the  volume  ;  and  the  list  of  the  names 
of  the  contributors  is  here  "  illustrious," 
and  there  "  obscure." 

We  now  come  to  another  Juvenile,  edited 
by  Mrs.  Hall.  It  has  greatly  improved, 
both  in  an  outward  and  visible,  and  an  in- 
ward and  spiritual  sense.  With  its  dark 
green  embossed  binding,  which,  while  it 
partakes  largely  of  the  ornamental,  does  not 
affect  to  be  above  the  useful,  it  is  as  ele- 
gant as  any  of  them,  and  yet  nobody  says 
"  take  care]"  when  you  touch  it.  The 
frontispiece,  Docility,  by  Robertson  and 
Thompson,  breathes  the  spirit  of  gentleness 
— a  most  sweet  and  touching  expression. 
Me  and  My  Dog,  by  Mosses  and  Edwards, 
it  a  laughable  little  affair ;  the  dog  as  ele- 


vated as  the  maiden,  and  the  girl  as  happy 
as  the  dog.  The  Twin  Sisters,  painted  by 
Boxall,  is  a  beautiful  Lawrence-like  compo- 
sition. The  Travelling  Tinman  and  the 
Nut-cracker,  are  both  well  engraved,  from 
designs  by  Leslie  and  H.  Howard.  Hebe,  R. 
Westall  and  Engleheart,  though  a  graceless 
picture,  makes  a  sweet  engraving  ;  and  the 
Bird's  Nest,  by  Collins  and  Ashby,  is  a 
most  exquisite  little  gem  in  the  painter's 
own  simple  manner.  One  of  the  chief 
merits  of  the  literary  department — and  it 
originates  of  course  in  the  taste  and  true 
feeling  of  the  editor — is,  that  it  is  precisely 
what  it  professes  to  be,  a  book  for  the 
young;  and  that  discrimination  has  been 
used  in  suppressing  whatever  might  by 
possibility  have  an  improper  tendency. 
We  can  only  particularize  a  Godmamma's 
Epistle,  by  Miss  Jewsbury ;  the  Miniature, 
by  Miss  Landon  ;  Impulse  and  Amia- 
bility, Miss  Isabel  Hill ;  the  Nutting  Party, 
by  Mrs.  Hofland,  and  Gaspard  and  his 
Dog,  by  Mrs.  Hall,  as  among  the  first  and 
fairest  of  the  beauties.  The  names  of  the 
gentlemen,  particularly  such  long  ones  as 
Montgomery  and  Cunningham,  we  cannot 
find  space  for. 

The  Comic  Annuals  this  year,  like 
Sheridan's  morning  guns,  have  one  im- 
portant fault — there  are  too  many  of  them. 
They  are  now  going  off  (or  rather  we 
fear  they  are  not)  in  every  direction.  We 
shall  expect  to  see  some  of  them  next  year, 
bound  in  black,  in  mourning  for  their  com- 
panions of  this.  Here  is  one,  "  The  Hu- 
morist, by  W.  H.  Harrison,  Author  of 
Tales  of  a  Physician.1''  It  is  embellished 
with  fifty  woodcuts,  besides  vignettes,  from 
designs  by  the  late  Mr.  Rowlandson— a 
man  of  genius,  whose  designs  we  suspect 
have  been  sadly  mutilated  and  disguised 
in  the  instance  before  us.  Mr.  Harrison 
must  not  be  surprised  if  the  ghost  of 
Rowlandson  should  pay  him  an  indignant 
visit  on  one  of  these  winter  nights.  We 
advise  him  to  be  prepared.  In  sober  sad- 
ness, these  woodcuts  are  very  bad ;  the 
humour,  if  they  ever  possessed  any,  is 
either  gone  by  or  utterly  forgotten  by  the 
engraver.  The  best  things,  like  the  best 
passages  in  a  play,  seem  to  have  been  put 
between  commas,  and  "  omitted  in  repre- 
sentation." Mr.  Harrison,  however,  has 
shewn  great  tact,  industry — and,  we  may 
add,  humour  and  invention — in  his  mode 
of  illustrating  these  designs.  Very  difficult 
his  task  must  have  been,  and  in  a  very 
masterly  way  has  he  accomplished  it.  Both 
his  prose  and  his  verse  wants  a  finishing 
dash  or  two  ;  but,  perhaps,  we  may  attribute 
the  absence  of  this  to  the  subjects,  rather 
than  to  the  writer.  We  would  willingly 
quote  a  story,  were  it  possible.  As  far  as 
the  literature  is  concerned,  this  volume  will 
be  found  no  unamusing  accompaniment  to 
the  Christmas  fireside. 


1830.] 


Fine  Arts'  Publication. 


THE  second  part  of  the  Views  in  the 
East,  eguals — exceeds,  we  might  almost 
say — both  in  style  and  subject,  the  beauties 
of  its  precursor.  The  same  talents  and  the 
same  care  have  been  devoted  to  it,  and  the 
same  results  are  evident.  The  first  view, 
"  A  Mosque  at  Futtypoor  Sicri,"  by  Purser 
and  Brandard,  is  very  striking  and  finely 
engraved.  The  mosque  is  attached  to  the 
palace  of  Akbar,  the  celebrated  emperor  of 
Hindostan.  The  gateway  is  exceedingly 
magnificent ;  according  to  Bishop  Heber, 
there  is  no  quadrangle  either  in  Oxford  or 
Cambridge,  at  all  comparable  to  it,  "  either 
in  size,  or  majestic  proportions,  or  beauty 
of  architecture."  The  interior  scarcely 
answers  to  the  splendour  of  the  external 
design — "  Shere  Shah's  Tomb,  at  Sasse- 
raur,"  is  of  an  equally  beautiful  order. 
This  is  by  W.  A.  Le  Petit,  from  a  drawing 
by  Prout.  The  effect  of  the  whole  view  is 
very  grand  and  gloomy ;  the  building  is 
properly  thrown  into  shade,  and  standing 
in  the  centre  of  an  artificial  piece  of  water, 
about  a  mile  in  circumference,  it  presents  a 
singularly  isolated  and  picturesque  effect. 
Shere  was  a  military  adventurer  of  the  old 
order ;  one  who,  having  made  himself 
emperor,  seemed  to  regard  "  breach  of  faith 
as  royal  property,  which  he  would  by  no 
means  permit  his  subjects  to  share  with 
him."  He  had  his  natural  good  gifts  too, 
and  effected  many  noble  and  magnificent 
objects.  He  was  at  least  a  friend  to  tra- 
vellers ;  for  he  ordered  that  at  every  stage 
they  should  be  entertained  at  the  public 
expence,  and  this  without  regard  to  religion 
or  country.  He  also  planted  fruit-trees 
along  the  roads,  both  to  shelter  them  from 
the  sun,  and  to  gratify  their  taste.  More- 
over, during  his  reign,  both  travellers  and 
merchants  were  wont  to  throw  down  their 
goods  and  sleep  upon  the  highway  in  per- 
fect security — a  state  of  things  far  more 

pleasant  than  probable But  we  come  to 

the  third  view— the  "  City  of  Benares," 
more  diversified  and  animated  than  all. 
This  is  an  exquisite  engraving  of  a  scene 
full  of  life  and  interest.  Benares,  which 
stands  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Ganges,  is 
still  a  curious  and  beautiful  city  ;  but  it  is 
not  what  it  was  previous  to  the  conquest  of 
India  by  the  Mahommedans.  There  is  a 
Hindoo  legend  we  are  told  respecting  it 
which  says,  that  "  the  city  was  originally 
built  of  gold,  but  in  consequence  of  the  sins 
of  the  people  it  was  turned  into  stone." 
Looking  at  it  through  the  medium  of  such 
an  engraving  as  this,  we  are  half  inclined 
to  give  credence  to  the  fable.  The  groups 
of  people  on  the  banks  of  the  river  seen  in 
a  delicious  state  of  happiness,  and  those  in 
the  water,  whether  they  are  merely  bathing, 
or  worshipping  the  Ganges,  have  by  no 
means  the  least  share  of  the  felicity.  The 
smoker  in  the  foreground,  sitting  on  the 
wall  with  a  prodigy  of  a  pipe  coiled  up  be- 
side  him,  looking  upon  the  calm  water  and 
pouring  clouds  into  the  air,  seems  to  breathe 


the  very  spirit  of  a  dreamy  enjoyment.  He 
has  made  us  wish  ourselves  at  Benares. 

The  Eighteenth  Number  of  the  National 
Portrait  Gallery,  contains  portraits  of 
Lord  Melville,  Mr.  Abernethy,  and  Lord 
Clifden — the  two  former  from  pictures  by 
Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  the  last  from  one 
by  Hayter.  They  rank  among  the  best  of 
those  that  have  preceded  them.  We  are 
much  pleased  with  that  of  Mr.  Abernethy, 
of  whom  a  biography  is  given,  more  replete 
with  anecdote  and  rarity  than  the  lives  of 
his  contemporaries  in  this  portrait-gallery 
will  generally  admit  of.  Mr.  Jerdan  re- 
lates some  amusing  stories  of  this  eccentric 
surgeon,  to  whose  talents,  industry,  and 
excellence  of  disposition,  he  does  proper 
justice. 

The  Four  Maps  forming  the  Sixth  Part 
of  the  Family  Atlas,  are  those  of  Holland, 
and  the  Netherlands,  Spain,  Sweden  and 
Norway,  and  the  West  Indies.  They  are 
executed  with  the  usual  neatness,  accuracy, 
and  compactness.  The  first  half  of  the 
work  is  now  complete,  and  we  may  very 
safely  assert  that  never  before  was  so  much 
information  put  into  so  small  a  compass. 
We  survey  the  globe  through  such  a  little 
edition  as  this,  as  we  look  at  the  moon 
through  a  telescope.  We  are  already  en- 
abled  to  carry  half  the  earth  about  with  us 
in  our  pocket ;  and  by  the  time  this  work 
is  concluded,  we  may  be  said  to  have  the 
whole  world  at  our  fingers'  ends.  We 
almost  fear  that  it  is  too  small  to  be  of 
much  utility. 

The  Landscape  Illustrations  to  the  Wa- 
verley  Novels,  have  also  reached  their 
Sixth  Part,  and  exhibit  no  symptom  of 
falling  off*.  The  Messrs.  Finden  continue 
their  exertions  with  spirit,  and  are  evidently 
not  easily  to  be  fatigued.  There  are  two 
illustrations  of  the  "  Pirate,"  from  sketches 
by  the  Marchioness  of  Stafford  ;  one  of  the 
"  Antiquary"  —  Queen's-ferry — by  Stan, 
field  ;  and  one  of  "  Quentin  Durward" — 
Namur — by  Prout,  a  scene  of  extreme 
beauty,  and  evincing  both  in  detail  and 
general  effect,  all  the  characteristic  finish 
and  freedom  of  this  artist's  masterly  style. 

We  have  seen  an  engraving  by  W.  Say,  to 
be  dedicated  to  her  Majesty — a  study  of 
Juliet.  She  is  reclining  on  a  couch,  contem. 
plating  the  fatal  draught  and  grasping  her 
dagger.  The  whole  arrangement  of  the 
figure  is  very  tasteful  and  effective ;  and  the 
expression  is  touching  and  beautiful.  It  is, 
moreover,  Italian  in  its  character,  and  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  studied  in  the 
theatre.  It  is  from  a  picture  by  Miss  F. 
Corbeaux,  a  young  artist  who  has  evinced, 
at  an  early  age,  the  possession  of  very 
singular  talents,  the  cultivation  of  which 
we  shall  have  great  pleasure  in  observing. 

The  Orphan  Ballad  Singers,  engraved 
by  J.  Romney,  from  a  cabinet  picture  by 
W.  Gill,  is  a  production  of  a  very  superior 
order.  It  is  long  since  we  have  seen  a 
prettier  composition,  and  we  have  no  expec- 

4  G  2 


604 


Fine  Arts'  Publications. 


[Nov. 


tation  of  seeing  any  thing  more  sweetly  and 
skilfully  executed.  It  is  singularly  soft 
and  delicate ;  and  the  truth,  simplicity,  and 
feeling,  that  characterize  the  little  group, 
are  exquisitely  preserved.  What  a  pity  it 
is  that  the  embellishments  of  the  Annuals 
are  not  of  the  si/e  of  this  print ;  the  effect  is 
here  precisely  what  it  should  be.  It  is  a 
little  gem  that  at  once  "  speaks  for  itself." 
It  is,  perhaps,  a  disadvantage,  in  the 
Illustrations  of  the  Literary  Souvenir  for 
1831,  that  one  of  the  number  should  be  so 
surpassingly  beautiful.  It  were  hard,  in- 
deed, if  the  very  exertions  of  the  proprietors 
to  produce  perfection  should  be  turned 
against  them,  and  we  should  complain  that 
they  have  not  been  excellent  in  every  thing, 
because  they  have  gone  beyond  ordinary 
excellence  in  one  instance.  Yet  something 
like  this  will  we  fear  be  the  case ;  for  there 
are  several  prints  among  these  illustrations 
which  it  is  almost  impossible  to  afford  a 
glance  at  in  the  same  portfolio  with  the 
Lady  Georgiana  Agar  Ellis,  engraved  from 
Sir  Thomas  Lawrence's  picture  by  J.  B. 
Watt.  Perhaps  were  we  to  say  that  the 
Annuals,  either  of  this  or  of  any  preceding 
year,  have  scarcely  produced  anything  equal 
to  it,  our  opinion  would  not  be  unsupported. 
This  arises  partly  from  the  grace  and  splen- 
dour of  the  composition  ;  the  taste,  bril- 
liancy, clearness,  and  refinement  of  which 
have  been  caught  by  Mr.  Watt  with  the 
skill  and  feeling  of  a  master.  Next  to  this  we 
like  the  Trojan  Fugitives,  J.  C.  Edwards, 
from  a  painting  by  G.  Jones,  R.A.,  a  very 
picturesque  group,  eminently  poetical  in 


design,  and  ably  executed.  We  should 
have  liked  Robert  Burns  and  his  Highland 
Mary  better,  had  they  been  merely  designed 
as  a  pair  of  rustic  lovers  ;  but  notwith- 
standing the  resemblance  to  the  features  of 
the  poet,  it  is  deficient  both  in  fancy  and 
fervour,  though  softly  and  tastefully  en- 
graved by  Mitchell. .  There  is  something 
pleasing  at  a  first  glance  in  the  Sea-side 
Toilet,  by  Portbury,  from  a  picture  by 
Holmes ;  but  the  effect  decreases  upon 
looking  nearer :  the  head  appears  to  us  too 
mature  for  the  figure.  The  Narrative,  by 
Greatbach,  from  a  design  by  Stothard,  is 
far  better ;  the  figures  very  gracefully 
grouped  in  Boccacian  order,  sitting  on  a 
declivity ;  the  faces,  although  so  minute, 
really  lovely  and  distinct,  and  the  whole 
scene  as  attractive  as  a  glimpse  of  Arcadia. 
A  Magdalen  is  a  soft  mellow  engraving,  by 
Watt,  from  Correggio  ;  and  the  View  of 
Ghent,  by  E.  Goodall,  with  its  gorgeous 
galley  and  gay  figures,  deserves  mention 
for  the  deep  sparkling  clearness  of  the 
water.  The  Destruction  of  Babel,  from  a 
painting  by  H.  C.  Slous,  is  too  palpable  an 
imitation  of  Martin  to  be  pleasing  ;  it  is 
conceived  in  a  style  that  of  all  others  re- 
quires to  be  original  to  be  relished.  The 
materials  of  the  picture  are  full  of  poetry, 
but  the,  effect  altogether  is  not  poetical.  It 
is  magnificent  in  parts,  but  melodramatic 
as  a  whole.  The  prints  that  we  have  not 
particularized  suffer  very  considerably  by  a 
comparison  with  the  beauty  of  some  of 
those  (the  Lawrence  especially),  that  we 
have  named. 


WORKS  IN  THE  PRESS  AND  NEW  PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS    IN    PREPARATION. 

A  whole  length  portrait  of  Byron,  at  the 
age  of  19,  never  before  engraved,  will  be 
prefixed  to  the  Second  Volume  of  Moore's 
Life  of  Byron. 

The  Adventures  of  Finati,  the  Guide  of 
Mr.  William  Bankes,  in  the  course  of  his 
Eastern  Journies  and  Discoveries,  have  been 
arranged  for  publication  by  that  gentleman. 

The  Author  of  "  Anastasius,"  Mr.  Hope, 
has  a  New  Work,  nearly  printed,  On  the 
Origin  and  Prospects  of  Man. 

The  Biography  of  another  of  our  Naval 
Heroes,  Lord  Rodney,  is  preparing. 

Popular  Specimens  of  the  Greek  Drama- 
tists are  advertised.  An  attractive  feature 
in  the  First  Volume  (^Eschylus)  will  be  a 
series  of  Engravings  from  the  splendid  De- 
signs of  Flaxman. 

A  New  Journal  is  to  appear  devoted  to 
Science  and  Natural  History,  conducted 
by  Faraday,  Brande,  Burnett,  Daniell,  Ure, 
and  others. 

Four  Volumes  of  Mr.  Croker's  Edition 
of  Boswell  are  printed.  Sir  Walter  Scott 
and  Lord  Stowell  have  contributed  much 
information  to  the  Editor. 


Knowledge  for  the  People ;  or,  the  Plain 
Why  and  Because,  is  announced  by  the 
Editor  of  «  Laconics." 

The  Rev.  T.  F.  Dibdin  announces  the 
Sunday  Library,  or  the  Protestant's  Manual 
for  the  Sabbath-Day,  a  Selection  of  Ser- 
mons from  eminent  Divines  of  the  Church 
of  England. 

Mr.  Dawson  Turner  is  preparing  for 
publication  the  Literary  Correspondence  of 
John  Pinkerton,  Esq. 

Captain  Abercromby  Trant  is  preparing 
a  Narrative  of  a  Journey  through  Greece 
in  1830. 

The  Gentleman  in  Black,  illustrated  by 
George  Cruickshank,  will  soon  make  his 
appearance. 

The  Author  of  "  The  Templars"  has  a 
new  work  in  the  press,  entitled,  Arthur  of 
Britanny. 

Dr.  R.  Wheatley  has  a  work  nearly  ready, 
entitled,  The  Errors  of  Romanism  traced  to 
their  Origin  in  Human  Nature. 

Elements  of  Greek  Prosody,  from  the 
German  of  Dr.  Franz  Spitzner. 

Elements  of  Greek  Accentuation,  from 
the  German  of  Goettling. 


1830.] 


List  of  New  Works. 


005 


Mr.  Keightley  is  about  to  publish  a  work 
on  the  Mythology  of  Ancient  Greece  and 
Italy. 

John  Abercrombie,  M.D.  announces  In- 
quiries on  the  Intellectual  Powers. 

Memoirs  and  Correspondence  of  the  late 
Sir  James  Edward  Smith,  M.D.,  are  pre- 
paring. 

A  Catechism  of  Phrenology,  illustrative 
of  the  Principles  of  that  Science,  is  an- 
nounced. 

Mr.  Northcote  is  employed  upon  the  Life 
of  Titian,   with  Anecdotes  of  the  Distin- 
guished Persons  of  his  Time. 
.    The  Rev.  E.  Whitfield  announces  The 
Bereaved,  Kenilworth,  and  other  Poems. 

Otto  Van  Kotzebue,  a  Captain  in  the 
Russian  Navy,  advertises  a  New  Voyage 
round  the  World. 

The  Authoress  of  the  Hungarian  Tales, 
has  nearly  ready  an  Historical  Romance, 
entitled,  The  Tuileries,  connected  with  the 
Period  of  the  French  Revolution. 

Mr.  Carne's  New  Work,  The  Exiles  of 
Palestine,  a  Tale  of  the  Holy  Land,  is 
written  from  actual  observation. 

The  Author  of  Pandurang  Hari,  or  Me- 
moirs of  a  Hindoo,  has  in  the  press  a  work, 
entitled,  The  Vizier's  Son. 

LIST  OF  NEW  WORKS. 


BIOGRAPHY  AND  HISTORY. 

Hazlitt's  Memoirs  of  Napoleon,  vols.  3 
and  4.  30s. 

Musical  Memoirs ;  comprising  an  Ac- 
count of  the  General  State  of  Music  in  En- 
gland, from  1784  to  1830.  By  W.  P.  Parke. 
2  vols.  18s. 

A  Biographical  Memoir  of  the  late  Dr. 
Walter  Oudney,  Captain  Hugh  Clapperton, 
and  Major  Alexander  Gordon  Laing.  By 
the  R«v.  Thomas  Nelson.  18mo.  2s.  Gd. 

Life  of  Lord  Burghley,  Lord  High  Trea- 
surer to  Queen  Elizabeth.  By  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Nares,  vol.  2.  4to.  £3.  3s. 

Military  Memoirs  of  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington. In  2  vols.  By  Captain  Sherer. 
Vol.  1.  5s.,  being  the  first  vol.  of  Lardner's 
Cabinet  Library. 

Juvenile  Library  :  vol.  1,  Lives  of  Re- 
markable Youth  of  both  Sexes ;  vol.  2., 
Historic  Anecdotes  of  France ;  vol  3., 
Africa,  its  Geography  and  History.  4s. 
each  vol. 

National  Library  :  vol.  2.,  History  of  the 
Bible,  by  the  Rev.  G.  R.  Gleig;  vol.  3, 
History  of  Chemistry,  by  Thos.  Thomson, 
M.D.,  Professor  of  Chemistry  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Glasgow.  5s.  each. 

Lardners  Cabinet  Cyclopasdia,  vol.  11.: 
contents,  the  second  volume  of  the  History 
of  Maritime  Discovery  ;  vol.  12.,  History 
of  France,  vol.  1.  6s.  each. 

An  Historical  Atlas  of  the  World,  as 
known  at  different  Periods :  constructed 
upon  a  uniform  scale.  By  Edward  Quin. 
Folio.  £3.  10s. 


The  Edinburgh  Cabinet  Library,  vol.  1., 
12mo.,  5s. :  contents,  Narrative  of  Disco- 
veries and  Adventures  in  the  Polar  Seas. 
By  Professors  Leslie,  Jamieson,  and  Hugh 
Murray,  Esqrs. 

History  of  the  Covenanters,  from  the 
Reformation  to  the  Revolution  in  1688.  In 
2  vols.,  18mo.  3s.  6d. 

MEDICAL. 

A  Demonstration  of  the  Nerves  of  the 
Human  Body,  with  Engravings.  By 
Joseph  Swan.— Part  1,  The  Cervical  and 
Thoracic  Portion  of  the  Sympathetic  and 
the  Nerves  of  the  Thoracic  Viscera.  Folio. 
£2.  2s. 

Dublin  Medical  Transactions.  A  Series 
of  Papers  by  Members  of  the  King  and 
Queen's  College  of  Physicians  in  Ireland. 
Vol.  1.  Part  1.  8vo.  15s. 

The  Principles  of  Surgery,  vol.  1.,  con- 
taining the  Doctrine  and  Practice  relating 
to  Inflammation  and  its  various  Conse- 
quences, Tumors,  Aneurisms,  Wounds, 
and  the  States  connected  with  them.  By 
John  Burns,  M.D.  14s.  Glasgow. 

Practical  Treatise  on  the  Diseases  of  the 
Eye.  By  William  Mackenzie,  Lecturer  on 
the  Eye  in  the  University  of  Glasgow.  21s. 

Transactions  of  the  Medico-Chirurgical 
Society  of  London,  Vol.  16.  Part  1.  9s. 

Cooper's  Lectures  on  Anatomy,  vol.  2. 
15s. 

Dr.  Howspip  on  Spasmodic  Stricture  in 
the  Colon.  8vo.  4s. 

Dr.  Rennie's  Treatise  on  Asthma,  Con- 
sumption,  and  Disorders  of  the  Lungs.  8vo. 


5s. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 

List  of  Annuals  for  1831 — The  Win- 
ter's Wreath,  12s — Le  Keepsake  Francais, 

21s The  Talisman,  by  Mrs.  Alaric  Watts, 

21s Forget-Me-Not,  12s.— The  Literary 

Souvenir,  12s — Friendship's  Offering,  12s. 
— Amulet,  12s. — Keepsake,  21s — Gem, 
12s The  Cameo,  12s — Landscape  An- 
nual, 21s Iris,  12s.  —  Hood's  Comic 

Annual,  12s — New  Comic  Annual,  12s. — 
The  Humourist,  a  Comic  Annual,  12s. — 
Comic  Offering,  a  New  Annual,  12s — 
Ackerman's  Juvenile  Forget-Me-Not,  8s. 
—Mrs.  Hall's  Ditto,  8s — Mrs.  A.  Watts's 
New  Year's  Gift,  8s. — Christmas-Box,  8s. 

Sections  and  Views  illustrative  of  Geolo- 
logical  Phenomena.  By  H.  T.  Delabeche, 
Esq.  4to.  £2.  2s. 

Transactions  of  the  Natural  History  So- 
ciety of  Newcastle-upon-Tyne.  Vol.  I., 
Part  I.  4to.  21s. 

Sewell  on  Cultivation  of  the  Intellect  by 
Studying  Dead  Languages.  8vo.  9s. 

Thucydides,  with  Original  English  Notes, 
Examination  Notes,  &c.  By  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Bloomfield.  3  vols.  27s. 

The  Classical  Library,  No.  10,  contain- 
ing Original  Translations  of  Pindar  and 
Anacreon.  4s.  6d. 

The  Secret  Revealed  of  the  Authorship 
of  Junius's  Letter.  By  G.  James  Falcon ar, 
Esq.  8vo.  3s.  6d. 


606 


Lixt  ofXr.ii:  Works. 


[Nov. 


The  Orestes  of  Euripides,  with  English 
Notes.  By  the  Rev.  J.  R.  Major.  5s. 

The  Practical  Baker  and  Confectioner's 
Assistant.  By  John  Turcan.  12mo.  5s. 

Second  Report  of  the  Commissioners 
respecting  Real  Property.  8vo.  6s. 

Addison's  Essays,  now  first  Collected, 
2  vols.  18mo.  8s. 

Illustrations  of  Landscape  Gardening. 
By  John  Lowson.  Part  I.  Folio.  7s.  fid. 

Nicholson  on  Mill-work.     8vo.  7s. 

The  Philosophy  of  Sleep.  By  Robert 
Macnish,  M  D.,  Author  of  The  Anatomy 
of  Drunkenness.  8vo.  7s. 

The  Elements  of  the  Theory  of  Mecha- 
nics. By  Robert  Walker.  8vo.  10s. 

Merrifield's  Law  of  Attorneys,  and  Costs 
in  Common  Law.  Royal  8vo.  21s. 

Advice  to  Trustees.  By  Harding  Grant. 
8vo.  6s. 

NOVELS   AND    TALES. 

The  Heiress  of  Bruges,  a  Tale  of  the 
year  Sixteen  Hundred.  By  Thomas 
Colley  Grattan,  Author  of  Highways  and 
By-ways.  4  vols.  12mo.  £2.  2s. 

The  Water  Witch,  or  the  Skimmer  of 
the  Seas,  a  Tale.  By  the  Author  of  the 
«  Borderers."  3  vols.  £\.  lls.  6d. 

Tales  of  Other  Days,  with  Illustrations 
by  George  Cruickshank.  Post  8vo.  9s. 

POETRY. 

The  Arrow  and  the  Rose,  with  other 
Poems.  By  Wm.  Kennedy.  12mo.  6s. 

Tales  of  the  Dead,  and  other  Poems. 
By  J.  H.  Jesse,  Esq.  I2mo.  5s.  6d. 

Tales  of  the  Cyclades,  and  other  Poems. 
By  H.  I.  Bradfield.  5s.  6d. 


Cheltenham  Lyrics,  Lays  of  a  Modern 
Troubadour.  By  H.  Hardy nge.  I8mo. 
4s.  6d. 

The  Poetical  and  Prose  Works  of  Schil- 
ler. Royal  8vo.  30s. 

The  Vale  of  Obscurity,  the  Lavant,  and 
other  Poems.  By  Charles  Crocker.  8vo. 
5s. 

Classic  Cullings  and  Fugitive  Gatherings. 
Post  8vo.  9s. 

The  Lyre  and  the  Laurel ;  or,  the  most 
beautiful  Fugitive  Poetry  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century.  In  2  vols.  18mo.  8s. 

RELIGION. 

The  complete  Works  of  Bishop  Sherlock, 
(including  many  tracts  now  first  published) 
5  vols.  8vo.  a  I.  17s.  6d. 

The  True  Dignity  of  Human  Nature ; 
or,  Man  Viewed  in  Relation  to  Immortality. 
By  Wm.  Davis,  Minister.  12mo.  5s. 

The  Life  and  Correspondence  of  Dr. 
Doddridge.  Vol.  4.  los. 

A  Concise  View  of  the  Succession  of 
Sacred  Literature,  in  a  Chronological  Ar- 
rangement of  Authors  and  their  Works, 
from  the  Invention  of  Alphabetical  Cha- 
racters, to  1445 — Part  I.  by  Adam  Clarke, 
LL.D Part  II.  by  J.  B.  B.  Clarke,  M.A. 

Pleasing  Expositor ;  or,  Anecdotes  illus- 
trative of  Select  Passages  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament. By  John  Whitecross.  18rao.  3s. 

Sermons,  on  Various  Subjects.  By  the 
Rev.  W.  Gillson.  12mo.  7s.  6d. 

Scripture  the  Test  of  Character ;  an  Ad- 
dress to  the  Influential  Classes  of  Society, 
on  the  effect  of  their  Example.  8vo.  5s. 


PATENTS  FOR  MECHANICAL  AND  CHEMICAL  INVENTIONS. 


New  Patents  sealed  in  September,  1830. 

To  Charles  Derosne,  of  Leicester- 
square,  Middlesex,  for  certain  improve- 
ments in  extracting  sugar  or  syrups  from 
cane  juice  and  other  substances  contain- 
ing sugar,  and  in  refining  sugar  and 
syrups — 29th  September ;  2  months. 

To  Michael  Donovon,  Dublin,  for 
an  improved  method  of  lighting  places 
with  gas — 6th  October  ;  6  months. 

To  Lieut.-Col.  Leslie  Walker,  C.B., 
Cuming-street,  Pentonville,  for  his  in- 
vention of  a  machine  or  apparatus  to 
effect  the  escape  and  preservation  of  per- 
sons and  property,  in  case  of  fire  or 
other  circumstances. — 6th  October;  6 
months. 

To  Richard  Perring,  Esq.,  Exmouth, 
Devon,  for  his  improvements  on  anchors. 
—6th  October ;  6  months. 

To  John  Heaton,  William  Heaton, 
George  Heaton,  and  Reuben  Heaton, 
Birmingham,  Warwick,  for  inventing 
certain  machinery  and  the  application 
thereof  to  steam-engines,  for  the  purpose 
of  propelling  and  drawing-  carriages  on 


turnpike  and  other  roads  and  railways* 
—6th  October ;  4  months. 

To  Joseph  Harrison,  Wortley  Hall, 
Tankersley,  York,  Gardner,  and  Richard 
Gill  Curtis,  of  the  same  place.  Glazier, 
for  improvements  in  glazing  horticultural 
and  other  buildings,  and  in  sash  bars  and 
rafters.  -  6th  October ;  2  months. 

To  John  Dickinson,  Esq.,  Nash  Mills, 
Langley,  Hertford,  for  an  improved 
method  of  manufacturing  paper  by 
means  of  machinery. — 6th  October; 
6  months. 

To  William  Augustus  Archbald,  Vere- 
street,  Cavendish-square,  Middlesex, 
gentleman,  for  an  improvement  in  the 
preparing  or  making  of  certain  sugars. 
—13th  October  ;  6  months. 

To  David  Napier,  Warren -street, 
Fitzroy -square,  Middlesex,  engineer, 
for  his 'improvements  in  printing  and  in 
pressing  machineiy,  with  a  method  of 
economising  the  power,  which  is  also  ap- 
plicable to"  other  puposes — 13th  Octo- 
ber; 6  months. 

To  Francois  Constant  Jacquemart, 
Esq.,  Leicester-square,  Middlesex,  for 


1830.] 


Agricultural  Report. 


607 


improvements  in  tanning  certain  des- 
criptions of  skins. —  20th  October ;  6 
months. 

To  Joseph  Budworth  Sharp,  Esq., 
Hampstead,  Middlesex,  and  William 
Fawcett,  Liverpool,  County  Palatine  of 
Lancaster,  civil  engineer,  for  an  im- 
proved mode  of  introducing  air  into 
fluids  for  the  purpose  of  evaporation. — 
20th  October ;  6  months. 

To  Alexander  Craig,  Ann-street,  St. 
Bernards,  St.  Cuthberts,  Mid-Lothian, 
for  certain  improvements  in  machinery 
for  cutting  timber  into  veneers  or  other 
useful  forms. — 20th  October ;  6  months. 

To  Andrew  Ure,  Burton-crescent, 
Middlesex,  M.D  ,  for  an  apparatus  for 
regulating  temperature  in  vaporization, 
distillation,  and  other  processes. — 20th 
October  ;  6  months. 

To  Andrew  Ure,  Burton-crescent, 
Middlesex,  M.D.,  for  improvements  in 
curing  or  cleansing  raw  or  coarse  sugar. 
—20th  October;  6  months. 

List  of  Patents,  which  having  been  granted 
in  the  month  of  November  1M16,  expire 
in  the  present  month  of  November  1830. 

1.  Benjamin  Smythe,  Liverpool,  for 
a  new  method  of  propelling  boats,  machi- 
nery, &c. 

—  Joseph  Gregson,  London,  for  a  new 
method  of  constructing  chimneys,  and  of 
tupplying  with  fuel. 


1.  William  Varley,  Leeds,  and  Ro- 
bert Hopwood,  Furness,  Bridlington, 
for  a  method  of  producing  saccharine  matter 
from  corn. 

—  George    Washington     Dickinson, 
London ,  for  preventing  leakage  from,  also 
the  admission  of  moisture  into  vessels. 

—  Simon  Hosking,  St.  Phillack,  Corn- 
wall, for  an  improved  steam  engine. 

—  William  Day,  London,/or  improved 
trunks. 

—  William  Piercy,  Birmingham,  for 
an  improved  way  of  making  thimbles. 

-  John  Heathcoat,    Loughborough, 
for  an  improved  lace  machine. 

—  William  Snowden,  Doncaster,  for 
an  apparatus  for  preventing  carriages  from 
being  overturned. 

16.  Robert  Stirling,  Edinburgh,  for 
an  improved  steam  engine. 

—  John  Day,  Brompton,  for  an  im- 
proved piano-forte. 

—  Robert  Rains  Baines,    Kingston- 
upon-Hull,  for  a  perpetual  log,  or  sea 
perambulator  - 

19.  Robert  Ford,  Hornsey,  for  hi$ 
balsam  of  horehound. 

—  William  Russell,  Chelsea,  for  his 
improved  cocks  and  vents. 

—  John  Barker,  Camberwell,  for  a 
method  of  acting  upon  machinery. 

21  Walter  Hall,  London,  for  a  method 
of  making  lead. 

—  James  Hawley,   London,  for  ttn- 
proved  thermometers. 


MONTHLY  AGRICULTURAL  REPORT. 

OUR  fickle  climate,  yet  with  all  its  faults,  one  of  the  safest  and  best  to  live  in,  has, 
during  the  current  month,  rendered  us  good  amends  for  its  former  waywardness.  Indeed, 
had  a  body  of  fanners  been  constituted  atmospheric  regulators,  they  could  not  possibly 
have  chosen  weather  more  suitable  to  the  operations  of  latter  harvest,  including  every 
species  of  produce,  and  to  the  most  important  process  of  wheat  sowing,  than  such  as  we 
have  been  blessed  with  during  the  greater  part  of  the  three  weeks  past.  The  change 
occurred  on  the  4th  instant,  a  dry  and  generally  cool  temperature  succeeding  with  north- 
west  or  north-east  winds,  yet  alternating  with  a  considerable  degree  of  solar  heat.  This 
state  of  the  atmosphere,  the  wind  about  the  19th  veering  to  the  south  and  west,  and  pro- 
ducing delightful  weather,  has  had  the  most  beneficial  effects  upon  all  the  corn,  pulse  and 
seeds  abroad,  drying  and  hardening  them  ;  and  also  upon  the  heavy  lands,  rendering 
them  accessible  and  friable,  and  adapted  to  the  operations  of  the  season.  Great  appre- 
hensions are  entertained  of  the  prevalence  of  the  slug,  after  such  continual  rains.  Early 
in  the  month  wheat-sowing  became  general,  where  harvest  was  finished,  and  has  proceeded 
throughout  apparently  with  a  determination  to  make  the  most  of  a  season  so  favourable. 
According  to  general  report,  a  great  breadth  of  wheat,  that  most  precious  crop,  will  be 
sown  this  year,  too  much,  if  not  the  greater  part,  upon  land  in  a  very  foul,  unfit  and 
disadvantageous  state  for  its  reception.  For  this,  it  is  averred,  the  badness  of  the  times 
will  allow  of  no  remedy.  Should  the  present  favourable  weather  continue,  scarcely  any 
article  will  remain  abroad  beyond  the  present  month,  which  will  conclude  one  of  the  most 
expensive,  procrastinated  and  harassing  harvests  ever  known  in  this  country,  and  most 
particularly  to  clay-land  farmers.  It  is  said,  however,  that  to  the  cultivators  of  the  best 
light  lands,  the  present  will  prove  a  successful  year. 

We  observed  in  a  former  report  that  the  growers  were  probably  too  sanguine  in  their 
anticipations  of  the  vast  produce  of  this  year's  crops,  particularly  of  the  wheats  ;  and  that 
it  had  long  been  our  usual  custom  to  defer  our  opinions  until  sufficient  intelligence  could 
be  obtained  from  the  barn  floor.  The  present  year  will  not  serve  to  break  our  adherence 
to  this  rule.  The  opinion  now  seems  to  be  universal,  that  wheat  when  threshed  does  not 
yield  in  that  exuberant  manner  which  their  heated  and  eager  imaginations  had  led  calcu- 
lators to  expect.  The  new  version  is,  that  there  is  above  a  field  average  in  bulk,  but  that 
the  yield  on  the  threshing-floor  is  not  proportional.  This  being  interpreted,  we  apprehend 


COS  Agricultural  Report.  [Nov. 

to  be,  that  the  super  field  average  in  bulk  consists  in  the  extraordinary  number  of  ears, 
but  which  are  not  equal  to  the  expected  product  in  corn  when  threshed.  It  is  still  the 
received  opinion,  that  wheat  will  prove  a  fair  average  throughout  the  three  kingdoms,  the 
quality  various  as  the  seasons  have  been,  and  the  soils  upon  which  it  was  sown.  Oats  are 
now  ascertained  to  be  the  most  exuberant  crop.  Barley  is  in  sufficient  quantity,  but  in 
some  districts  nearly  three  parts  of  it  is  stained  and  of  inferior  quality,  though  fortunately 
but  little  grown  or  sprouted.  Potatoes,  with  some  exceptions  in  the  north,  come  well  out 
of  the  ground  on  all  proper  soils,  and  their  husbandry  is  nearly  finished.  Of  seeds  there 
is  nothing  to  detail  at  present,  but  that  of  late  the  weather  has  been  highly  favourable  for 
them,  and  that  much  clover  was  left  for  seed.  Of  that  precarious  article  the  hop,  (he 
quantity  will  be  as  great  as  could  be  expected  from  a  season  like  the  past;  namely,  about 
half  an  average  crop,  fine  quality,  at  no  rate  abundant.  The  stocks  of  old  hops  of  late 
years  seem  generally  to  have  been  very  considerable,  and  such  they  are  at  present.  £20. 
per  cwt.  have  been  given  for  the  finest  Farnham  hops  ;  common  price  £8.  to  £12.  We 
have  observed  some  Swedish  turnips  promising,  but  in  general  that  root  is  deemed  a 
failure,  as  also  is  cole  seed.  In  some  parts  the  backward  growth  of  turnips  appears,  in  a 
great  measure,  attributable  to  deficient  culture.  Of  beans  the  crop  will  be  large,  both  in 
pod  and  straw ;  but  although  this  pulse  when  shocked  and  tied  takes  less  harm  in  the 
field  from  rain  than  any  other  produce,  yet  much  of  the  crop  is  too  damp  and  soft  for 
immediate  use,  and  will  be  kept  until  spring,  with  more  advantage  stacked  abroad  than 
in  the  barn.  Of  peas  the  early  judgment  was  correct ;  they  are  on  the  whole  the  most 
deficient  of  this  year's  crops.  Mangold,  or  cattle  beet,  perhaps  the  smallest  breadth 
which  we  have  had  of  late  years,  looks  at  present  in  a  healthful  state.  Winter  vetches 
(tares)  sowing  in  vast  quantities,  for  spring  feed,  which  it  may  be  expected  will  be  an 
article  in  great  request. 

Accounts  of  live  stock,  and  indeed  of  the  whole  of  our  country  affairs,  are  so  various  and 
conflicting,  that  it  is  no  easy  task  to  produce  a  general  view  which  shall  prove  tolerably 
accurate,  or  even  intelligible.  At  the  great  cattle,  sheep,  and  horse  fair  of  Ballinasloe,  in 
Ireland,  business  was  said  to  be  very  dull,  money  scarce,  and  prices  low.  On  the  other 
hand,  at  the  October  Tryst,  Falkirk,  N.B.,  there  was  an  unprecedented  good  market,  the 
stocks  large,  and  the  sales  particularly  brisk.  In  our  Englis'i  fairs  a  similar  discrepancy 
prevails.  In  some  a  limited  stock  found  a  ready  sale  ;  in  others,  the  stocks  were  so 
large,  that  the  greater  part  were  driven  away  unsold.  Prices  are  extremely  various  for  the 
•same  kind  of  stock.  The  butter  and  cheese  trade  is  reviving  wonderfully  from  its  late 
depression.  The  cattle  exposed  to  sale  are  almost  universally  in  an  inferior  state  to  that 
which  would  seem  warranted  from  the  immense  crops  of  this  year's  herbage,  but  which  has 
failed  of  its  usual  nutritive  quality  from  the  unseasonable  cold  and  moisture.  From  a 
similar  cause,  the  yearling  beasts  in  the  west  have  been  much  subject  to  the  disease  called 
the  quarter  evil.  Accounts  of  the  rot  in  sheep  have  become  more  and  more  alarming, 
insomuch  that  buyers  hesitate  to  bargain  without  a  warrantry,  and  heavy  losses  have  been 
already  sustained,  some  farmers  having  sent  unsound  sheep  to  Smithfield,  the  return  for 
which  was  sixpence  a  head,  after  all  expenses  had  been  defrayed.  Cows  dull  of  sale  and 
cheap.  Pigs  in  great  numbers,  yet  seeming  to  hold  their  price,  with  a  call  for  large  stores 
in  Berks  and  Hants.  Good  cart  colts  are  of  ready  sale,  and  the  horse  trade  generally  in 
its  pristine  state,  valuable  ones  commanding  a  high  price.  It  seems  an  invariable  feature 
in  our  English  markets  for  corn  and  cattle,  quality  is  the  great  object,  and  will  find  its 
value,  whilst  inferior  articles  remain  in  the  utmost  state  of  depression.  The  price  of 
wool,  as  might  be  expected,  has  had  a  trifling  decline  in  some  few  places,  but  the  general 
aspect  of  the  market  is  that  of  a  yet  probable  advance,  the  growers  having  disposed  of  the 
whole  of  their  old  stocks. 

Intelligence  from  nearly  every  part  of  the  country  teems  with  discontent,  and  from  too 
many  is  really  alarming.  It  is  apprehended  that  farming  is  on  the  wane,  and  that  the 
game  is  nearly  up  with  the  tenantry.  The  vast  number  of  sales,  and  farms  to  be  let, 
though  not  unprecedented,  according  to  the  common  assertion,  afford  but  too  strong  a 
confirmation.  The  causes  assigned  for  this  general  calamity  are  fiscal  oppression  and 
foreign  competitors.  The  complainants,  however,  should  not  be  unmindful  that,  in  the 
first  instance,  the  landed  interest  and  its  dependents  were  among  the  most  powerful  advo- 
cates of  that  long  and  burdensome  war,  which,  if  it  enriched  them  during  its  continuance, 
bequeathed  to  the  country  that  load  of  debt  and  taxation  which  has  since  so  grievously 
oppressed  it;  in  the  second,  that  from  the  vast  increase  of  population,  and  other  causes, 
which  it  might  be  invidious  to  adduce,  our  national  subsistence  could  not  be  obtained, 
independently  of  a  foreign  supply.  This,  as  a  general  proposition  the  complainants  do  not 
attempt  to  deny,  nor  indeed  could  they  rationally  do  so  in  the  face  of  their  own  voluntary 
recourse  to  foreign  purchases  on  so  many  and  various  occasions.  Nor  do  they  object  to 
the  corn  laws  fundamentally,  but  to  the  system  of  averages,  as  productive  of  collusion  and 
fraud,  and  calculated  to  promote  the  interested  views  of  speculators.  This  system  it 
appears  to  be  the  general  aim  of  the  farming  associations  to  get  exchanged  for  a  fixed 
duty  on  foreign  corn  imported.  The  question  obviously  cannot  be  debated  here,  but  we 
will  venture  to  say  that  it  appears  devoid  of  the  great  consequence  attached  to  it.  The 
great  and  sovereign  remedies  appear  to  us  to  be  a  reduction,  speedy  as  is  practicable,  of 
all  unnecessary  and  corrupt  taxation,  together  with  an  improved  and  superior  fanning 


1830.]  Agricultural  Report.  609 

practice.  The  remission  of  the  beer  duty  seems  to  afford  little  satisfaction  to  the  farming 
interest,  on  the  ground  that  it  will  be  beneficial  only  to  the  inhabitants  of  towns,  and 
that  in  preference  malt  ought  to  have  been  relieved  of  the  burden.  However  this  may 
stand  as  a  general  proposition,  there  is  one  argument  much  enforced,  in  which  we  cannot 
join — it  is  maintained  that  with  mah  free  of  duty,  the  agricultural  labourers  would  enjoy 
home-brewed  beer  on  their  own  comfortable  hearths.  But  how  would  the  miserable  pit- 
tance which  is  the  reward  of  their  labour  enable  them  to  purchase  such  substantial  com. 
forts  ?  Accounts  from  almost  every  quarter  of  the  country  threaten  a  still  greater  surplus 
of  labourers  after  farming  labour  shall  grow  slack,  for  which  the  usual  season  approaches. 
The  country  labourers,  as  a  body,  have  ever  had  sufficient  experience  of  poverty  and  de- 
pression, but  it  can  no  longer  be  questioned  that  the  general  use  of  machinery  has  been 
the  main  cause  of  their  present  accumulated  misery.  The  early  advocates  of  machinery 
were  too  sanguine  in  their  expectations  that,  although  improvements  may,  or  rather  must 
be  attended  with  partial  disadvantages,  things  would  yet  gradually  find  their  usual  level, 
and  that  even  an  additional  quantity  of  labour  would  result,  in  various  ways,  from  such 
almost  unlimited  powers  of  operation.  The  grand  error  consisted  in  not  paying  a  timely 
attention  to  the  fallibility  of  these  views,  and  to  the  discovery  and  employment  of  a  coun- 
teracting remedy.  In  the  present  appalling  state  of  the  case  there  is  no  other  remedy 
than  the  employment  of  men  deprived  of  the  means  of  living  in  consequence  of  the 
adaption  of  machinery,  by  those  who  have  benefitted  by  machinery,  or  by  the  state.  It 
has  been  broached  of  late — the  argument,  perhaps,  chiefly  grounded  on  the  present  alarm 
— that  threshing  machines  are  actually  unprofitable  to  the  farmer,  both  as  regards  the  corn 
and  straw,  with  the  additional  disadvantage  of  affording  the  means  of  throwing  a  great 
glut  of  corn  upon  the  markets.  Certain  landlords  are  even  said  to  have  insisted  on  the  disuse 
of  those  machines  by  their  tenantry.  Men,  all  equal  inheritors  of  the  earth,  though  of 
different  degrees,  and  willing  to  perform  their  bounden  duties,  have  a  natural  right  to 
subsistence,  which  they  will  find  the  means,  however  irregular,  to  support.  This 
is  not  said  to  encourage  the  too  general  demoralization  and  depravity  of  the  lower 
classes,  or  the  vindictive  and  base  passions  of  midnight  incendiaries,  who  ought  to  be 
faced  with  the  most  determined  opposition,  and  treated  with  the  utmost  severity  of  the 
law.  Strange  that  the  rich  county  of  Kent  should  so  long  have  been  the  chief  theatre  of 
these  enormities — but  more  strange  still  that  in  the  full  view  of  all  that  is  now  passing  in 
the  world,  they  who  possess  the  heaviest  interest  are  so  tardy  in  taking  warning. 

Smithfield—Beef,  3s.  4d — Mutton,  3s.  to  4s.  2d — Veal,  3s.  2d.  to  4s.  8d.— Pork, 
3s.  to  3s.  4d — Rough  fat,  2s.  5d.  per  stone. 

Corn  Exchange — Wheat,  45s.  to  75s — Barley,  28s.  to  47s.— Oats,  19s.  to  33s.— 
London  4  Ib.  Loaf,  lOd — Hay,  30s.  6d.  to  84s.  per  load. — Clover,  ditto,  34s.  to  105s.— 
Straw,  30s.  to  40s. 

Coals  in  the  Pool,  29s.  to  38s.  6d.  per  chaldron. 
Middlesex,  October  21. 


MONTHLY  COMMERCIAL  REPORT. 

SUGAR. — In  West  India  Muscovadoes  last  week  business  was  rather  more  brisk ; 
no  alteration  in  prices ;  sales  about  2,000  hhds.  and  tierces.  At  the  close  of  the 
market  the  estimated  sales  of  Muscovadoes  were  1,000  hhds.  and  tierces,  including 
the  public  sale  of  Barbadoes.  In  prices  there  is  no  alteration.  In  the  refined 
market  a  general  reduction  of  3s.  took  place  on  low  goods  ;  in  some  instances  4s. 
and  5s. ;  low  lumps  were  reported  at  all  prices,  from  65s.  6d.  up  to  68s.  The 
decline  appeared  so  marked  that  we  have  since  a  great  increase  in  the  demand. 
Fine  goods  are  also  dull,  and  a  shade  lower ;  Molasses  more  in  request.  This 
afternoon  the  market  is  dull;  prices  about  Is.  lower;  lumps  appear  to  have  settled 
about  CDs. 

COFFEE.— The  purchases  of  Coffee  last  week  consisted  of  about  1,200  packages 
British  plantation,  chiefly  Jamaica,  in  casks,  sold  at  a  general  reduction  of  Is.  to 
Is.  6d.  per  cwt. ;  considerable  private  contracts  were  reported ;  St.  Domingo,  32s. 
to  34s.  6d. ;  Brazil,  33s.  to  35s.  6d. ;  La  Guyra,  about  the  same  price ;  the  Ceylon 
sold  at  34s.,  the  quality  particularly  good  ;  good  old  Brazil,  33s.  6d.  The  market 
is  steady. 

RUM,  BRANDY,  HOLLANDS. — There  are  considerable  purchases  of  Rum  reported, 
at  prices  rather  lower ;  proofs  to  5  over,  4s.  8^d.  to  4s.  9d.  Brandy  is  still  in  great 
request,  and  the  prices  are  again  2d.  and  4d.  per  gallon  higher,  first  marks,  being 
reported  at  5s.  3d.  and  5s.  4d.,  and  one  parcel  5s.  6d.  per  gallon.  Geneva  is  still 
neglected;  Martell  vintage,  1829,  at  5s.  and  5s.  6d. ;  Bordeaux,  3s.  3d. 

HEMP,  FLAX,  AND  TALLOW. — The  failure  of  the  fishery  at  Davis's  Straits  is 
complete.  In  consequence  of  the  great  rise  in  Oils,  Tallow  is  beginning  to  feel 

M.M.  New  Series VOL.  X.  No.  59.  4  H 


610 


Commercial  Report. 


[Nov. 


the  effect  which  must  undoubtedly  follow,  from  its  being  substituted  for  Oil.  The 
price  of  tallow  at  first  only  rose  to  31s. ;  it  has  been  40s.  6d.  In  Hemp  or  Flax 
there  is  no  material  alteration. 

Course  of  Foreign  Exchange. — Amsterdam,  12.  1.— Rotterdam,  12.  2 — Antwerp, 

12.  3.— Hamburg,  13.  13.— Altona,  00.  00.— Paris,  25.40 — Bordeaux,  15.  70 

Berlin,  0.— Frankfort-on-the-Main,  152.  0.— Petersburg,  10.  0.— Vienna,  10.  10 — , 
Trieste,  0.  0  —Madrid,  36.  OJ.— Cadiz,  36.  Of.— Bilboa,  36.  OL— Barcelona,  36.  0.— 
Seville,  36.  OJ.— Gibraltar,  47.  OJ.  —  Leghorn,  48.  0.—  Genoa;  25.  65.— Venice, 
46.  0.— Malta,  48.  0*.— Naples,  39.  0|.— Palermo,  118.01.— Lisbon,  44±.— Oporto, 
44.  03.— Rio  Janeiro,  26.  0.— Bahia,  28.  0.— Dublin,  1.  OJ.— Cork,  1.  0£. 

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

Premiums  on  Shares  and  Canals,  and  Joint  Stock  Companies,  at  the  Office  of 
WOLFE,  Brothers,  23,  Change  Alley,  Cornhill.— Birmingham  CAJTAL,  Q  sh.)  290/.— 
Coventry,  8507. — Ellesmere  and  Chester,  777. — Grand  Junction,  2487 — Kennet  and 
Avon,  26f  7. — Leeds  and  Liverpool,  4057. — Oxford,  O/. — Regent's,  23^7. — Trent  and 
Mersey,  (£  sh.)  7407. — Warwick  and  Birmingham,  2807.— London  DOCKS  (Stock) 
7317.— West  India  (Stock),  188£/.— East  London  WATER  WORKS,  126*.— Grand 
Junction,  617 — West  Middlesex,  797. — Alliance  British  and  Foreign  INSURANCE, 
8f7.— Globe,  1557.— Guardian,  27*7.— Hope  Life,  GU-— Imperial  Fire,  07.— GAS- 
LIGHT Westminster,  chartered  Company,  60^7. — City,  1917. — British,  14  dis. — 
Leeds,  1957. 

ALPHABETICAL  LIST  OF  BANKRUPTCIES, 

Announced  from  September  23c?,  to  October  23d,  1830,  in  the  London  Gazette. 


BANKRUPTCIES  SUPERSEDED. 

A.  Neve,  Portsea,  linen-draper. 
E.  Alker,  Wigan,  cotton-manufacturer. 
T.  Allinson   and  J.  Williams,  Manchester,  coal- 
merchants 

M.  H.  Stevens,  Lambeth,  dealer. 
W.  Woodrow,  West  Chester,  draper. 

BANKRUPTCIES. 

[This  Month  76.] 

Solicitors'1  Names  are  in  Parentheses. 

Ackerman,  J.  Bruton,  draper.  (Brittan,  Basing- 
hall-street ;  Brvari  and  Co.  Bristol 

Arnold,  J.  Thorntree,  farmer.  (Jeyes,  Chancery- 
lane  ;  Flint,  Uttoxoter 

Ashcroft,  H.  and  J.  B.  Liverpool,  marble-masons. 
(Hinde,  Liverpool 

Atkin, <}.,  Clerkenwell-green,  victualler.  (Wright, 
Btfekiertbary 

Ash,  H.,  Bulwell,  grocer.  (Home  and  Co.,  New 
Inn 

Boraman,  J.,  Store-street,  butcher.  (Pollock, 
Basinghall-stroet 

Bigne,  A.  P.  la,  Bristol,  wine-merchant.  (Vizard 
and  Co.,  Lincoln's-inn-nclds 

Bryant,  S.,  Waterloo-road,  Surrey,  broker. 
(Browne?,  Furnival's-inn 

Boldron,  W.,  Aid  borough,  farmer.  (Tilson  and 
Son,  Colman-street ;  Allison  and  Co.,  Rich- 
mond 

Bourne,  E.,  Bartholomew-lane,  stock- broker. 
(Godmond,  Nicholas-bine 

Bullard,  J.,  Brighton,  tobacconist.  (Isaacs,  Man- 
sell-street 

Blake,  W.,  Tooting,  brewer.  (Lloyd,  Bartlett's- 
buildings 

Baker,  J.  S.,  Bradford,  innkeeper.  (King  and 
Co.,  Gray's-inn 

Blackburn,  A.,  Preston,  linen-draper.  (Norm 
and  Co.,  John-street;  Woodburn,  Preston 

Cross,  J.,  Turnrnill-street,  pawnbroker.  (Faw» 
cett,  Jewin-street 

Carter,  E.,  Walbrook-buildings,  money-scrivener. 
(Donaldson,  Hart-street 

Dancan,  M.,   and   J.  Monday,    Kingston-upon- 


Hnll,  wine-merchants.  (Ellis  and  Co.,  Chan- 
cery-lane ;  Dryden,  Hull 

Evans,  A.,  Shiffnal,  victualler.  (Hicks  and  Co., 
Gray's-inn;  Glover.  Shiffnal 

Elliott,  T.,  Bennett-street,  grocer.  (Matland, 
Memott-street 

Ellis,  W.,  Swanage,  brewer.  (Holme  and  Co., 
New-inn  ;  Parr,  Poole 

Frisby,  R.  M.,  Mark -lane,  wine  -  merchant. 
(Bo'iisfield.  Chatham-place 

Fradsley,  W.  H.,  Sbacklewell-green,  stock-manu- 
facturer. (Hannington  and  Co.,  Cary  lane 

Featherstone,  J.,  Kingston-upon-Hull,  "merchant. 
(Ellis  and  Co.,  Chancery-lane;  Dryden,  Hull 

Force,  H.,  Exeter,  upholsterer.  (Brntton  and 
Co.,  New  Broad-street  ;  Brutton,  Exeter 

Fiander,  J.,  Down-street,  plumber.  (Robinson 
and  Sons,  Half-Moon-street 

Grnndy,  T.,  Pendltton,  manufacturer.  (Hurd  and 
Co.,  Temple  ;  Bonth  and  Co.,  Manchester 

Gibson,  W.,  Deddington,  victualler.  (Shilton  and 
Son,  Chancery -lane  ;  Field,  Deddington 

Greening,  G.  S.,  Sheffield,  draper.  (Walter, 
Symonds-inn  ;  Wake,  Sheffield 

Hudson,  R,,  Birmingham,  currier.  (Bailey,  Ely- 
pi  ace 

Hollinsworth,  C.  H.,  South wark,  coal-merchant. 
(Price,  Arundol-street 

Hudson,  W.,  Birmingham,  victualler.  (Chilton 
and  Son,  Chancery-lane  ;  Benson.  Birmingham 

Han-is,  A.  E^Goulston-sqnare,  dealer  in  feathers. 
(Yates  and  Co.,  Bury-street 

Jackson,  J.  M.,  Brighton,  cabinet-maker.  (Smith, 
Basinghall-street 

King,  J.,  Lamb's  Conduit-street,  draper.  (Ash- 
hurst,  Newgate-street 

Knevett,  J.,  Hammersmith,  victualler.  (Cooke, 
New-inn 

Lawrance,  E.,  Ipswich,  ship-owner.  (Cross, 
Staple-inn  ;  Hunt,  Ipswich 

Leeson,  J.,  Nottingham,  hosier.  (Hannington 
and  Co.,  Cary-lane 

Ledden,  W.,  Liverpool,  merchant.  (Atkinson  and 
Co.,  Manchester  ;  Makinson  and  Co.,  Temple 

Lumsden,  E.  and  R.,  Monkwearmouth-shore, 
ship-builders.  (Bell  and  Co.,  Bow  Church- 
yard ;  Allison,  Monkwearmouth 

Leach,  R.,  and  W.  M.  Pousset,  Cow  Cross,  dea- 
lers. (Maltby,  Broad-street 


1830.] 


List  of  Bankrupts. 


611 


Lane,  J.,  Brixham,  ship-builder.  (Wimburn  and 
Co.,  Chancery  lane  ;  Chapman,  Devonport 

Mann,  J.,  Cleobury  Mortimer,  baker  and  grorer. 
(Devereux,  Bromyard  ;  Hilliard  and  Co., 
Gray's-inn 

Morris,  C.  J.,  Leamington  -  priors,  bookseller. 
(Platt  and  Co.,  New  Boswell-court ;  Patterson 
and  Co.,  Leamington 

Minton,  R.,  Hereford,  draper.  (Church,  St. 
James-street  ;  Pateshall  and  Co.,  Hereford 

Mattison,  W.,  Clerkenwell,  victualler.  (Gole, 
Ironmonger-lane 

Metcalfe,  G.,  Liverpool,!grocer.  (Chester,  Staple- 
inn  ;  Ripley,  Liverpool 

Worrell,  J.,  Store-street,  builder.  (Rande!!,  Wai- 
brook 

Neve,  A.,  Portsea,  draper.  (Ashurst,  Newgate- 
street 

Pollard,  J.,  Deptford,  baker  and  smack-owner. 
(Bugby,  Leather-lane 

Page.  J.,  Thame,  linen-draper.  (Willis  and  Co., 
Lnthbury 

Pierce,  P.  M.,  Liverpool,  common-brewer.  (Bebb 
and  Co.,  Great  Marlborough-street;  Armstrong, 
Liverpool  • 

Pelliam,  J.,  Rotherhithe,  print-seller.  (Nias, 
Copthall-court 

Pickthorne,  F.  P.  B.,  Southampton-row  and 
Arlington  -  street,  surgeon.  (Hammet,  Bar- 
nard's-inn 

Potter,  T.,  Nottingham,  cheesemonger.  (Taylor, 
Feutherstone-buildings  ;  Payne  and  Co.,  Not- 
tingham 

Pryke,  P.,  Great  Coggeshall,  tailor.  (Perkins 
and  Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Mayhevv,  Cojsrgeshall 

Randall,  J.,  Iver,  farmer.    (Hensman,  Walbrook 

Rees,  R.,  Swansea,  ironmonger.  (Bourdillon, 
Winchester-street ;  Simcox,  Birmingham 

Rohinshaw,  J.,  Rochdale,  flannel-manufacturer. 
(Norris  and  Co.,  John-street;  Woods,  Roch- 
dale 


Routledge,  W.,  Wigtou,  butcher.  (Mounsey  and 
Co.,  Staple-inn  ;  Hodgson,  Wigton 

Rusher,  J.,  Stamford,  woobtapler.  (Stevens  and 
Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Bentley,  Bradford 

Somers,  J,.,  Aldgate,  jeweller.  (Yates  and  Co  . 
Bury-street 

Smith,  C.,  and  G.  Arnold,  Bath,  innholders. 
(Williams  and  Co.,  Lincwln's-inn-fields  •  Mac- 
kay,  Bath 

Stanford,  J.,  Paddington,  smith.  (Robinson, 
Orchard-street 

Smith,  G.,  Birmingham,  cock-founder.  (Clarke 
and  Ci>.,  Lincoln's-inn-fields  ;  Colmore,  Bir 
mingham 

Sporle,  G.,  Ipswich,  shoe-maker.  (Hamilton, 
Southampton-street ;  Notcutt, Ipswich 

Tindall,  G.  and  W.,  Beverley  and  Hull,  seeds- 
men. (Lambert,  John-street;  Shepherd  and 
Co.,  Hall  and  Co.,  Beverlev 

Tad. 
(Brooks 
Newcastle 

Taylor,  G.,  Old  Bond-street,  shoe-maker.  (Ben 
nett,  Cannon-street 

Thomas,  W.,  Holborn,  linen-draper.  (Sole, 
Aldermanbury 

Waller,  E.  H.,  Bristol,  timber-merchant.  (White  , 
Lincoln's  inn  ;  Short,  Bristol 

Wellington,  R.,  Chard,  carrier.  (Tucker,  Dean- 
street  ;  East,  Chard 

Weller,  A.,  Maresfield,  victualler.  (Palmer  and 
Co.,  Bedford-row  ;  Verral,  Lewes 

Wilkinson,  R.,  Shrewsbury,  draper.  (Slaney, 
Gray's-inn  ;  Cooper,  Shrewsbury 

Williams,  R.,  Weobley,  grocer.  (Lloyd,  Furni- 
val's-inn  ;  Herbert,  Leominster 

Westerby,  R.,  Brotherton,  lime-burner.  (Lake, 
Cateaton-street 

Yapp,  R.,  and  G.  Yapp,  Hopton,  dealers.  (De- 
vereux, Bromyard  ;  Hilliard  aud  Co.,  Gray's- 
inn 


Iman,   J.,    Newcastle-upon-Tyrie,    perfumer. 
3rooksbank    and    Co.,    Gray's-inn ;     Brown, 


ECCLESIASTICAL  PREFERMENTS. 


Rev.  E.  Bosanquet,  to  the  Rectory  of 
Ellisfield Rev.  J.  M.  Colson,  to  the  Rec- 
tory of  Linkenholt.  —  Rev.  W.  T.  Eyre, 
to  the  perpetual  Curacy  of  Hillesden,  Bucks. 
— Rev.  W.  Coward,  to  the  perpetual  Cu- 
racy of  Westoe,  Durham — Rev.  E.  Hib- 
game,  to  the  Vicarage  of  Fordham,  Cam- 
bridge— Rev.  J.  Davis,  to  be  Chaplain  to 
Episcopal  Chapel  for  the  port  of  London.— 
Rev.  J.  B.  Tyrwhitt,  to  be  Chaplain  to 
Lord  Belhaven. — Rev.  J.  R.  Hopper,  to 
the  Rectory  of  Bedingfield,  Suffolk — Rev. 
F.  Baring,  to  the  Rectory  of  Abbotstone 

and  Itchen  Stoke Rev.  G.  Dewdney,  to 

the  Rectory  of  Gussage  St.  Michael,  Dor- 
set, together  with  the  Rectory  of  Fovant, 

Wilts Rev.  J.  Sibley,  to  the  Vicarage  of 

Enstone,  Oxford — Rev.  A.  P.  Clayton,  to 
be  Chaplain  to  Lord  Melbourne. — Rev.  W. 
Wyatt,  to  be  Chaplain  to  Marquis  Lon- 
donderry.— Rev.  C.  R.  Ashfield,  to  the 

Vicarage  of  Leddon,  Norfolk Rev.   W. 

Baillie,  to  the  Rectory  of  West  Chilling- 
ton,  Sussex. — Rev.  W.  H.  M.  Roberson,  to 
the  Vicarage  of  Tytherington,  Gloucester. 
— Rev.  T.  Tyrwhitt,  to  the  Vicarages  of 
Winterbourne,  Whitchurch,  and  Turn- 
worth,  Dorset — Rev.  C.  B.  Trye,  to  the 

Rectory    of    Leckhampton,    Gloucester 

Rev.  J.  Garbett,  to  the  Curacy  of  St. 
George,  Birmingham — Rev.  W.  White, 
to  be  Head  Master  of  Grammar  School  of 
Wolverhampton. — Rev.  R.  Jarratt,  to  be 


Assistant  Lecturer  and  Assistant  Curate  at 

Halifax   parish   church,    York Rev.    G. 

Bonnor,  to  the  Curacy  of  St.  James,  Chel- 
tenham— Rev.  P.  Wilson,  to  the  Rectory 
of  Ilchester,  Somerset. — Rev.  H.  Fox,  to 
the  Rectory  of  Pilsden,  Dorset — Rev.  J. 
Wood,  to  the  perpetual  Curacy  of  Willis- 
ham,  Suffolk — Rev.  Sir  E.  W.  Sandys,  to 
the  Rectory  of  Winstone. — Rev.  C.  D. 
Wray,  to  be  Fellow  of  Collegiate  Church  of 
Manchester — Rev.  E.  Shuttleworth,  to  the 
perpetual  Curacy  of  St.  George,  Chorley, 
Lancashire. — Right  Rev.  Father  in  God, 
Dr.  C.  Bethel,  to  be  Bishop  of  Bangor — 
Rev.  M.  Cooper,  to  be  Second  Master  of 
Islington  Proprietary  Grammar  School — - 
Rev.  J.  Stannus,  to  the  Deanery  of  Ross. 
— Rev.  M.  Isaacs,  to  the  Rectory  of  Shan- 
drum,  Cork Rev.  J.  Smith,  to  be  Chap- 
lain to  Bishop  of  Derry — Rev.  H.  Bellairs, 
to  the  Rectory  of  Bedworth,  Warwick.^- 
Rev.  J.  Shirley,  to  the  Rectory  of  Fretten- 
ham,  with  Stanninghall,  Norfolk. —  Rev. 
W.  B.  Whitehead,  to  the  Prebend  of  Ilton, 
Wells Rev.  J.  M.  Echalaz,  to  the  Rec- 
tory of  Appleby,  Lincoln. — Rev.  and  Ve- 
nerable H.  Lowe,  to  the  Rectory  of  Yeovil- 
ton,  Somerset — Rev.  J.  Dolphin,  to  the 
Rectory  of  Antingham  St.  Mary,  Norfolk. 
— Rev.  J.  Davies,  to  the  vacant  Prebendal 
Stall  of  Llandygwydd,  Brecon. — Rev.  J. 
Robinson,  to  the  Rectory  of  St.  Dennis,' 
York,  with  Vicarage  of  St.  George  and  Na- 
4  H  2 


612 


Chronology,  Marriages,  and  Deaths. 


[Nov. 


burn  annexed.— Rev.  J.  Holme,  to  perpe- 
tual Curacy  of  Low  Harrowgate,  York. — 
Rev.  J.  W.  Dew,  to  perpetual  Curacy  of 
St.  James,  Halifax.— Rev.  W.  L.  Town- 
send,  to  be  Chaplain  to  Earl  of  Craven. — 
Rev.  B.  Vale,  to  perpetual  Curacy  of  St. 


Peter,  Stoke-upon-Trent,  Stafford. —  Rev. 
M.  Randall,  to  be  Chaplain  to  Manchester 
Collegiate  Church — Rev.  L.  Ripley,  to  be 
Second  Master  of  Durham  Grammar  School, 
and  Rev.  R.  W.  Kerby,  Head  Master  of 
Wymondham  Free  Grammar  School. 


CHRONOLOGY,  MARRIAGES,  DEATHS,  ETC. 


CHRONOLOGY. 

Sept.  24.  At  a  meeting  of  the  Common 
Council  of  the  city,  a  series  of  motions  was 
made  to  congratulate  the  municipality  of 
Paris  and  the  French  nation  on  the  success 
of  the  late  revolution,  which  were  negatived 
by  nearly  two  to  one. 

27.  A  meeting  took  place  at  Kennington 
Common,  of  the  middle  and  working  classes 
of  London,  for  addressing  the  French  peo- 
ple on  their  revolution,  and  to  address  his 
Majesty  on  the  present  distressed  state  of 
the  country,  when  resolutions  were  passed 
for  those  purposes. 

—  The  celebrated  De  Potter,  who  had 
been  banished  by  the  former  government  at 
Brussels  for  8  years  for  a  libel,  returned 
there,  and  nominated  one  of  the  Provisional 
Government. 

29.  Alderman  Key  elected  Lord  Mayor 
of  London. 

30.  Intelligence  from  Cassel  states  that 
the   Elector,   in  compliance  with   the  de- 
mands of  his  subjects,  assembled  in  large 
bodies,  has  convoked  the  Estates  for  reviv- 
ing the  ancient  free    institutions   of   the 
Electorate. 

Oct.  5.  A  meeting  held  in  London,  con- 
voked by  Mr.  Owen,  at  which  a  resolution 
was  passed  to  petition  the  King  and  Par- 
liament for  a  repeal  of  all  the  taxes  on  the 
periodical  press,  and  for  every  facility  to 
the  diffusion  of  opinions. 

8.  The  punishment  of  death  abolished  in 
France  by  the  Chamber  of  Deputies. 

'10.  News  arrived  from  America  with 
information  of  the  opening  of  the  Welland 
Canal,  by  which  the  hitherto  insurmounta- 
ble barrier  of  the  Niagara  is  overcome  ; 
"the  Erie  waters  now  mingle  with  those 
of  Ontario,  and  to  the  800  miles  of  coast 
which  we  had  access,  1000  more  are  now 
added." — American  Papers. 

11.  By  the  official  statement  of  the  Re- 
venue of  the  past  year  and  quarter,  it 
appears  that  the  deficiency  on  the  latter, 
ended  10th  October,  1830,  as  compared 
with  the  corresponding  quarter  of  1829,  is 
188,834/.  On  the  year  ended  10th  October, 
1830,  as  compared  with  the  year  ended  10th 
October,  1829,  it  is  943,756^. 

13.  By  accounts  laid  before  the  French 
legislature,  by  the  King,  Oct.  9,  "  it  ap- 
pears," says  his  Majesty,  "  that  more  than 
500  orphans,  300  widows,  and  more  than 
300  fathers,  have  been  deprived  of  their 
parents,  husbands,  and  children ;  more  than 


311  persons  have  been  mutilated,  and  more 
than  3,564  wounded,  in  the  recent  revolu- 
tion. The  law  settles  a  pension  of  500 
francs  on  the  widows  of  citizens  killed  in 
the  latter  end  of  July.  Their  children 
under  7  years  of  age  shall  be  entitled  to  a 
pension  of  250  francs,  and  above  7  "P  to 
18  they  shall  receive  the  advantages  of  a 
liberal  education.  The  fathers  and  mothers 
above  60,  who  have  lost  their  children,  shall 
receive  a  pension  of  300  francs.  Those 
whose  wounds  render  them  incapable  of 
continuing  their  professions  shall  be  en- 
titled to  live  at  the  Invalids,  or  to  the 
pension  of  the  Invalids.  Those  whose 
wounds  will  not  prevent  them  from  con- 
tinuing their  former  labours,  shall  receive 
an  indemnity." 

16.  Charles  X.  and  suite  left  Lulworth 
Castle  for  Edinburgh. 

18.  Proclamation  issued  by  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  for  suppressing 
"  The  Irish  Society  for  Legal  and  Legis- 
"  lative  Relief,  or  the  Anti-Union  Associa- 
"  tion." 

20.  His  Majesty  Charles  X.,  and  the 
Due  de  Bordeaux  and  suite,  arrived  at 
Edinburgh,  and  repaired  to  Holyrood 
House. 

26.  The  Imperial  Parliament  assembled 
at  Westminster. 

MARRIAGES. 

Captain  Rowley,  son  of  Sir  W.  Rowley, 
bart.,  to  the  Hon.  Maria  Louisa  Vanneck, 
only  daughter  of  Lord  Huntingfield. — C. 
Chichester,  esq.,  to  Miss  Caroline  Manners 
Sutton,  daughter  of  late  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury. — Lieut. -Col.  Knollys,  to  Eliza- 
beth, daughter  of  Sir  J.  St  Aubyn,  bart — 
Sir  Codrington  Edmund  Carnington,  M. P., 
to  Mary  Ann,  daughter  of  J.  Capel,  esq., 
M.P. — Hon.  Captain  G.  L.  Vaughan,  second 
son  of  Earl  Lisburne,  to  Mary  Josephine 
Roache,  daughter  of  H.  O'Shea,  esq.,  Ma- 
drid— W.  J.  Goodeve,  esq.,  to  Lady  Fran- 
ces Jemima  Erskine,  sister  to  Earl  of  Mar. 
—At  St.  Mary's,  Bryanstone-square,  the 
very  Rev.  Dr.  W.  Cockbuin,  Dean  of 
York,  to  Margaret  Emma,  only  daughter 
of  late  Col.  Pearse  of  Kensington,  and 
grand-daughter  of  late  Rev.  Dr.  J.  D. 
Thomas — W.  Webb  Follett,  esq.,  to  Jane 
Mary,  eldest  daughter  of  late  Sir  Hardinge 
Giffard. 

DEATHS. 
The  Duke  of  Atholl,  76 — Mary  Cathe- 


1830.] 


Deaths  Abroad. — Provincial  Intelligence. 


613 


tine,  Lady  Thurlow,  widow  of  the  late  Lord 
Thurlow,  and  formerly  Miss  Bolton,  of 
Covent  Garden  theatre. — Hon.  and  Rev.  R. 
Digby,  brother  to  Earl  Digby. — Miss  C.  A. 
T.  Cunynghame,  daughter  of  Sir  D.  Cun- 
ynghame,  bart — W.  Hazlitt,  esq.,  author 
of  several  works  of  celebrity — Dowager 
Lady  Knightley,  widow  of  the  late  Rev. 
Sir  J.  Knightley,  bart. — Hon.  Eliza  Har- 
riet Ellis,  only  daughter  of  Lord  Howard 
de  Walden — At  Bodlewyddan,  Sir  John 
Williams,  bart.— At  Bristol,  Mr.  D.  M. 
Dight,  pen  and  quill  manufacturer,  of  106, 
Strand.  He  was  the  person  who  prevented 
the  death  of  Geo.  III.  32  years  ago,  by 
seizing  the  pistol  from  Hatfield  after  he  had 
levelled  it  at  the  King  from  the  pit  of 
Drury-lane  theatre. — Susanna,  relict  of  the 
late  KingsmiH  Grove,  esq.,  of  Thornbury, 
and  aunt  to  Mr.  Alderman  Key,  Lord 
Mayor  (elect)  of  London. — Julia,  daughter 
of  Right  Hon.  Sir  Arthur  Paget. 


MARRIAGES  ABROAD. 

Prince  Albert  of  Prussia,  to  the  Princess 
Mary  of  Orange.  — At  Pau,  Sir  Henry 
Bunbury,  bart.,  M.  P.,  to  Miss  Emily 
Napier. 

DEATHS  ABROAD. 

Near  Perugal,  (state  of  the  Holy  See), 
Hypolyto  Bendo,  aged  124  years,  11 
months,  and  19  days !  having  been  born 
April  9,  1706. — At  Wisbaden,  Augusta 
Mary  de  Gray,  daughter  of  the  late  Lord 
Walsingham. — At  Plescow,  (Russia)  Mi- 
chofsky,  a  husbandman,  165  ;  his  mother 
lived  to  117?  and  his  sister  to  112 — At 
Brussels,  Lord  Blantyre ;  he  was  shot  in 
the  neck  as  he  was  looking  out  of  window 
in  the  recent  revolution.  — At  Corunna, 

Ann,  wife  of  R.  Bartlett,  esq.,   Consul. 

At  Paris,  Harriet,  wife  of  Sir  Bellingham 
Graham,  bart. — At  Viana  (Portugal),  A. 
Norton,  esq.,  the  British  Consul. 


MONTHLY  PROVINCIAL  OCCURRENCES. 


NORTHUMBERLAND.  _  Hagger- 
Leazes  branch  of  the  Stockton  and  Darling- 
ton railway,  having  been  finally  completed, 
by  its  extension  to  the  Butterknowle  and 
Copley  colleries,  this  portion  of  the  line  was 
opened  for  public  use  October  2  ;  when  a 
deputation  from  the  company,  consisting  of 
a  part  of  the  committee,  the  engineers,  and 
others  connected  with  the  undertaking, 
travelled  up  the  line  from  Darlington,  and 
were  received  at  its  termination  by  the  pro- 
prietor of  those  collieries,  and  a  party  of 
friends,  amid  the  cordial  cheers  of  the  party 
assembled.  The  railway  branch  now  com- 
pleted will  be  an  extensive  benefit  to  the 
public ;  it  opens  a  communication  with  the 
lead  mine  district,  terminating  at  the  road 
to  Wolsingham,  Middleton,  &c.,  and  actu- 
ally on  the  great  trap  dyke  which  traverses 
the  island,  and  from  which  an  inexhaustible 
store  of  the  best  materials  for  the  construc- 
tion of  roads  may  be  sent  down  the  line. 

LANCASHIRE.  _  The  second  annual 
meeting  of  the  Preston  Institution  has  been 
recently  held.  The  number  of  members  is 
from  5  to  600.  The  number  who  actually 
paid  last  year  was  551.  The  library  con- 
tains 1,700  volumes.  Various  classes  are 
formed,  and  forming,  for  the  study  of  useful 
subjects.  They  have  also  a  museum  con- 
taining nearly  1000  specimens  in  natural 
history,  &c.  The  success  of  this  institution 
is  attributable  to  the  lowness  of  the  charge, 
being  only  6s.  6d.  a  year. 

The  revolution  in  business  which  the 
Manchester  and  Liverpool  railway  is  pro- 
ducing exceeds  any  anticipation  ever  formed 
respecting  it.  Last  week  a  Gentleman,  who 
had  transacted  a  forenoon's  business  in 
Liverpool,  was  seen  at  Dr.  Raffles'  chapel 
in  the  evening,  and  it  was  well  known  that 


he  had  been  busily  engaged  in  Manchester 
for  full  two  hours  in  the  interim Liver- 
pool Mercury — We  have  heard  this  week 
of  a  gentleman  who  went  to  Liverpool, 
transacted  business  there  for  half  an  hour, 
and  returned  to  Manchester  to  breakfast. — 
Ed.  Guard.  —  Passengers'  account  from 
Friday,  the  17th,  to  Saturday,  the  25th 
ultimo: — The  number  was  6,104  passen- 
gers, averaging  763  per  day ;  the  money 
received,  £2,034.  11s.,  or  about  £254.  per 
day,  (nearly  £93,000.  per  year,)  and  the 
numbers  increase  every  day. — The  receipts 
of  the  late  music  meeting  at  Liverpool 
amount  to  £7,800,  about  £2,000  less  than 
at  the  last  festival Oct.  14.  The  first  an- 
nual meeting  of  the  Liverpool  Agricultural 
Society  took  place.  Aware  as  we  are  of  the 
very  great  advantages  which  have  been  de- 
rived (and  which  are  evident  in  all  our 
markets)  from  the  establishment  of  the 
Liverpool  Horticultural  Society,  we  confess 
ourselves  highly  gratified  at  witnessing  the 
establishment  of  an  Agricultural  Society ; 
we  feel  perfectly  convinced  that  its  good 
effects  will  soon  be  visible  in  our  labourers' 
cottages,  in  our  butchers'  stalls,  and  in  our 
larders.  We  hail,  therefore,  the  commence- 
ment of  this  co-operation  in  creating  motives 
to  action,  and  this  stimulus  to  competition 
in  excellence  of  production  ;  for  we  shall  all 
be  gainers  by  it,  in  the  most  personal  and 
most  extended  sense  of  the  word,  as  men 
and  as  countrymen. — Liverpool  Paper. 

YORKSHIRE — It  is  our  painful  duty 
this  day  (says  the  Hull  paper)  to  record  the 
loss  of  18  ships  employed  in  the  Davis's 
Straits  fishery,  six  of  which  belong  to  Hull. 
We  do  not  remember  having  ever  witnessed 
a  more  melancholy  sight  than  that  which 
our  streets  this  morning  presented.  Hun- 


614 


Provincial  Occurrences  :   Worcestershire,  fyc. 


[Nov. 


dreds  of  persons,  particularly  females,  were 
assembled  in  groups,  anxiously  inquiring  of 
each  other  the  news  from  the  fishery,  as  a 
report  was  fast  gaining  ground  that  some 
casualties  had  occurred,  though  no  one 
could  possibly  form  a  correct  idea  of  their 
extent.  This  was  about  nine  in  the  morn- 
ing, at  which  hour,  or  a  little  after,  the 
Grimsby  steamer  arrived,  amply  confirming 
the  previous  rumours.  The  number  of  ship- 
wrecked seamen  on  board  of  the  different 
ships  amounted  to  between  800  and  900. 

WORCESTERSHIRE.— The  total  re- 
ceipts at  the  late  music  meeting  at  Wor- 
cester amounted  to  £4,320 — the  collection 
for  the  charity  we  inserted  in  our  last — the 
receipts  for  admission  were  £3,314.  Gs.  6d., 
which  is  a  diminution,  as  compared  with 
the  receipts  in  1827,  of  £78.  2s.  lO^d.  for 
the  charity,  and  £626.  10s.  6d.  for  the 
admissions. 

Notice  has  been  given  of  an  application 
to  Parliament  for  an '  Act  which,  among 
other  things,  will  authorize  the  alteration  in 
the  road  between  Birmingham  and  Broms- 
grove,  by  which  the  Lickey  will  be  avoided. 

WARWICKSHIRE The  commis- 
sioners' accounts,  from  24th  June,  1829, 
to  June  24th,  1830,  for  lighting,  watch- 
ing, cleansing,  paving,  &c.  the  town  of 
Birmingham  amount  to  the  sum  of 
£30,843.  15s.  2d. 

At  a  grand  public  dinner  given  to  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  and  Sir  R.  Peel, 
Sept.  23,  by  the  High  Bailiff,  at  Birming- 
ham, Mr.  Tennyson  spoke  on  the  absolute 
necessity  of  some  change  in  the  state  of  the 
representation,  and  that  it  was  now  become 
the  universal  impression  of  the  country. 
"  Circumstances,"  said  he,  "  have  lately 
thrown  me  into  the  society  of  various  bodies 
of  the  community  in  different  parts  of  the 
kingdom,  and  the  uniform  feeling  is,  that 
gome  change  in  the  representation  of  the 
country  is  indispensable." 

The  members  of  the  Birmingham  Poli- 
tical Union  have  voted  an  address  to  his 
Majesty,  in  which  they  say,  after  enumerat- 
ing the  various  calamities  which  now  per- 
vade the  country,  "  We  forbear  to  afflict 
your  Majesty's  paternal  heart  with  any 
further  description  of  the  national  distress. 
The  expression  that  '  things  cannot  possibly 
go  on  in  their  present  state'  is  now  in  every 
one's  mouth  who  does  not  derive  profit  from 
the  national  distress ;  and  we  beg  leave 
dutifully  and  loyally  to  express  to  your  Ma- 
jesty our  firm  conviction  that  the  most  fear- 
ful national  results  are  to  be  anticipated, 
unless  the  wisdom  of  your  Majesty  devise 
the  means  of  national  relief." — At  the  din- 
ner given  by  the  Society  in  honour  of  the 
French  Revolution  no  less  than  3,700  per- 
sons sat  down  to  table  !  It  took  place  in 
Beardsworth's  Repository.  After  the  King's 
health,  "  God  save  the  King"  was  sung  by 
the  whole  auditory,  and  had  a  most  extraor- 
dinary effect.  Louis  Philippe,  King  of  the 


French,  was  given  as  a  toast,  and  the 
Marseillois  Hymn  followed. 

Notice  has  been  given  that  application  is 
intended  to  be  made  to  Parliament  in  the 
next  Session  for  leave  to  bring  in  a  bill  for 
making  and  maintaining  railways,  with 
various  branches,  for  the  passage  of  coaches, 
chaises,  waggons,  carts,  &c.  for  the  convey- 
ance of  passengers  and  goods  of  every  de- 
scription from  Birmingham  to  London. 

LINCOLNSHIRE The  issuing  of  a 

large  number  of  discharges  of  his  tenants, 
by  the  Marquis  of  Exeter,  in  consequence 
of  exercising  their  right  of  voting  for  their 
favourite  member  at  the  last  election,  added 
to  some  other  subjects  of  irritation,  has  pro- 
duced so  fearful  a  state  of  society  in  Stam- 
ford, that  the  magistrates  have  thought  it 
necessary  to  require  the  presence  of  police- 
officers  from  London,  who  are  now  on  duty 
in  the  town  and  about  Burghley  House. 
His  Lordship,  riding  on  horseback  through 
the  town,  was  assailed  by  the  mob  ;  he 
escaped  without  personal  injury,  but  in  a 
state  of  very  visible  agitation.  At  night  the 
mob  assembled,  and  broke  many  windows 
of  the  houses  belonging  to  the  Marquis's 
agents.  None  of  the  offenders  were  appre- 
hended. 

Last  Friday  some  youths  were  con- 
demned to  be  imprisoned  in  the  stocks  at 
Surfleet,  for  some  petty  offence.  A  number 
of  persons,  compassionating  the  youths, 
treated  them  with  a  quantity  of  ale  :  the 
constables  very  properly  endeavoured  to 
prevent  this,  upon  which  a  great  outcry  was 
made,  a  crowd  of  100  or  150  persons  assem- 
bled, hoisted  a  tri-coloured  flag,  and  having 
imbibed  a  quantity  of  ale,  which  gave  them 
courage,  liberated  the  youths.  The  ring- 
leaders were  taken  into  custody,  with  their 
tri-coloured  emblems. 

SOMERSETSHIRE.  —  Prior  Park, 
near  Bath,  surrounded  with  admirably 
arranged  park-grounds,  consisting  of  be- 
tween 2  or  300  acres,  was  purchased  about 
three  months  ago  by  Dr.  Baynes,  a  Roman 
Catholic  priest,  the  "  Bishop"  of  this  dis- 
trict ;  and  he  is  now  busily  engaged  in  con- 
verting it  into  a  Roman  Catholic  College  ! 
The  chapel  is  already  converted  into  a  Ro- 
man Catholic  chapel.  The  old  pulpit  has 
been  removed,  and,  in  its  stead  appears  a 
"throne"  for  Bishop  Baynes.  The  old 
altar-piece  has  disappeared,  and  a  new 
marble  one,  surmounted  by  a  tabernacle, 
is  erected  on  its  site.  The  whole  is  beauti- 
ful, and  the  alter-piece  is  exquisitely  worked. 
The  further  wing  of  the  building  is  the 
residence  of  Bishop  Baynes.  In  the  build- 
ing a  library  is  forming ;  and,  at  all  events, 
"  Prior  Park  College"  seems  likely  to 
become  an  imposing  and  powerful  Catholic 
seat  of  learning  ! — Bath  Pa/per. 

NORFOLK The  recent  music  festival 

at  Norwich  was  by  no  means  so  well  attend- 
ed as  the  last  in  1827,  there  being  a  falling 


1830.]       Sussex,  Kent,  Staffordshire,  Shropshire,  Devonshire,  tyc.       615 


off  of  about  1,960  tickets !  Yet  it  is  ex- 
pected there  will  be  a  surplus  of  receipts 
above  the  expenditure  of  about  £800  for 
the  benefit  of  the  hospital — Norfolk  Chro- 
nicle, Oct.  2. 

Oct.  12.  A  meeting  was  held  at  Beccles 
of  the  inhabitants  to  consider  of  the  steps 
taken  by  the  corporation,  to  apply  to  Par- 
liament for  an  act  for  rendering  the  river 
"Waveney  navigable  for  sea-borne  vessels, 
when  the  following  resolution  passed  una- 
nimously :  "  That  it  is  the  decided  opinion 
of  this  meeting  that  the  making  this  Town 
a  Port  for  Sea-borne  Vessels,  to  and  from 
the  new  Harbour  at  Lowestoft,  would  tend 
greatly  to  the  utility  and  prosperity  of  the 
inhabitants  of  this  place,  and  that  conse- 
quently we  entirely  and  cordially  approve 
of  the  steps  which  the  corporation  have 
taken,  and  are  about  to  take,  to  carry  so 
desirable  an  object  into  complete  effect." — 
Norfolk  Chronicle. 

SUSSEX The  expenses  for  regulating, 

paving,  improving,  and  managing  the  town 
of  Brighthelmstone,  and  the  Poor  thereof, 
from  Dec.  31,  1829,  to  June  30,  1830, 
amounted  to  £17,345.  18s.  4d. 

KENT — This  county  is  in  a  very  agi- 
tated  state,    and  not   without  reason,    on 
account  of  the  organized   system  of  stack- 
burning  and  machine-breaking,   which  ap- 
pears to  be  established  in  several  extensive 
districts.     The  farmers  flattered  themselves 
that  the  large  reward  (£500  !)  which  has 
been  offered  would  have  the  effect  of  induc- 
ing some  of  the  incendiaries  to  betray  their 
accomplices,  but  in  this  they  have  hitherto 
been  disappointed.     In  this  county,  where 
agricultural  distress  has  been  proverbially 
less  frequent  and  more  transient  than  in  any 
other,  no  alarming  combination   of  the  la- 
bourers  has  ever    taken  place  without   an 
adequate  cause.     And  what  is  the  cause  of 
their  present  fearful  proceedings  ?     Truth 
must  be  told  :  they  are  in  a  state  of  unpre- 
cedented distress — they  cannot  obtain  any 
thing   like  a  fair   compensation   for   their 
labour — they  begin  to  despair  of  sufficient 
means  of  bare  subsistence,  except  in  a  state 
of   ignominious    pauperism.       There   are, 
doubtless,    exceptions    to    be    found.      In 
every  assemblage  of  violent  men  there  are 
some  whose  violence  has  no  cause  but  in 
their  love  of  riot  and  hope  of  plunder.     But 
these  evidently  form  no  approach  to  the  ma- 
jority of  the  numbers  who  are  now  breaking 
the  peace  ;  by  far  the  greater  part  of  them 
are  men  whom  want — desperate,   reckless 
want — has  goaded  to  acts  of  vindictive  vio- 
lence— Kentish  Chronicle. 

STAFFORDSHIRE.  —  Application  is 
intended  to  be  made  to  Parliament  in  the 
ensuing  sessions,  for  a  Bill  to  authorise  the 
construction  of  a  Railway  from  Wolver- 
hampton,  through  Dudley,  to  Birmingham, 
with  branches,  which  will  afford  a  quick 
and  easy  communication  with  all  the  places 


forming  the  important  mining  and  manu- 
facturing districts  of  that  part  of  the  country. 

SHROPSHIRE The  new  Salop  In- 
firmary, the  erection  of  which  reflects  much 
credit  on  the  spirit  and  liberality  of  the 
nobility  and  gentry  of  the  county,  was 
opened  Sept.  30.  The  expense  of  the  erec- 
tion is  stated  at  £18,745.  18s.  10.,  which 
will  be  defrayed  as  follows :  subscriptions 
for  building  £11,252,  congregational  col- 
lections £1,013,  net  receipts  of  the  Ladies* 
Bazaar  £1,078,  leaving  about  £6000  to  be 
paid  out  of  the  accumulated  funds  (which 
are  ample)  belonging  to  the  Institution. 

DEVONSHIRE — Great  rejoicings  took 
place  at  Exeter,  Sept.  29,  on  the  occasion 
of  opening  the  new  Water  Dock,  which  has 
been  cut  to  prevent  vessels  losing  time  when 
the  Canal  is  closed  on  account  of  the  floods 
of  the  river.  The  extreme  length  of  the 
basin  is  917  feet,  and  its  width  110  feet  6, 
over  two-thirds  of  the  length,  and  at  the 
lower  end,  or  entrance,  90  feet ;  its  uniform 
depth  is  18  feet,  with  commodious  sites  on 
its  margin  for  the  erection  of  suitable  wharfs, 
&c.  In  this  noble  dock  the  largest  traders 
may  take  in  or  discharge  their  cargoes. 
The  Royal  William  -ensign,  the  identical 
standard  raised  by  William  III.  on  his 
landing  at  Torbay,  was  hoisted  at  the  fore- 
mast-head of  the  barge  which  was  destined 
to  enter  the  basin  first.  At  six  o'clock  a 
party  of  about  240  gentlemen  sat  down  to 
a  most  sumptuous  dinner  to  celebrate  the 
event. 

OXFORD.  —  The  expences  for  the 
county  for  last  year  (up  to  Trinity  Ses- 
sions, 1830,)  amount  to  =£8,209.  15s.  8d. 

CORNWALL — The  17th  annual  meet- 
ing  of  the  Royal  Geological  Society  of  Corn- 
wall was  this  year  more  numerously  attended 
than  on  any  former  occasion  :  long  before 
the  business  of  the  day  commenced,  the 
room  was  crowded  to  excess,  and  many 
persons  who  were  particularly  anxious  to  be 
present,  and  came  rather  late,  were  forced 
again  to  retire.  The  report  was  read  and 
unanimously  adopted.  It  contained  an 
eulogium  on  George  IV.  for  the  patronage 
he  accorded  to  the  Society  ;  and  an  address 
to  William  IV.,  soliciting  his  protection  for 
the  same  purpose.  The  communications 
which  have  been  made  to  the  society  since 
the  publication  of  its  third  volume  of  Tran- 
sactions, being  quite  sufficient  to  fill  another 
volume,  the  council  suggest  that  an  imme- 
diate arrangement  be  made  for  the  printing 
and  publication  of  a  fourth  volume. 

WALES In   the   transactions   of  the 

Natural  History  Society  of  Northumber- 
land, Durham,  and  Newcastle,  it  is  stated, 
that  the  quantity  of  iron  annually  manufac- 
tured in  Wales  is  about  270,000  tons,  of 
which  about  three-fourths  is  made  into  bars, 
and  one-fourth  sold  as  pigs  and  castings. 
The  annual  consumption  of  coals  required 
by  the  iron-works  is  about  1,500,000  tons. 


610 


Provincial  Occurrences :  Scotland  and  Ireland. 


[Nov. 


The  quantity  used  in  the  melting  of  copper 
ore  imported  from  Cornwall,  in  the  manu- 
facture of  tin-plate,  forging  of  iron  for  various 
purposes,  and  for  domestic  uses,  may  be  cal- 
culated at  850,000  tons ;  which  makes 
altogether  the  annual  consumption  of  coal 
in  Wales,  1,850,000  tons.  The  annual 
quantity  of  iron  manufactured  in  Great 
Britain  is  690,000  tons.  Upwards  of  4,000 
tons  of  iron  have  been  laid  down  in  the 
double  line  of  railway  between,  Liverpool 
and  Manchester,  a  distance  of  about  thirty 
miles  only. 

The  Annual  Report,  with  an  appendix, 
of  the  Commissioners  for  the  Holyhead 
road,  has  just  been  printed.  The  result  of 
the  improvements  made  in  the  road  is  most 
favourably  spoken  of: — and  in  the  Appen- 
dix a  Report  is  given  by  Mr.  Telford.  The 
sums  repaid  to  the  Commissioners  up  to 
April  5,  1830,  on  account  of  advances  made 
by  them,  amounted  to  £103,633,  the  total 
being  formed  from  these  items  : —  From 
additional  postage  on  letters  to  Ireland 
passing  over  the  Menai  and  Conway  bridges 
£67,290  ;  from  tolls  taken  at  the  Menai  and 
Conway  bridges  £1,103 ;  from  additional 
tolls  levied  on  the  road  between  London  and 
Shrewsbury  £32,721  ;  from  additional  tolls 
levied  on  the  road  between  London  and 
Shrewsbury  £2,51 2.  The  expenditure  dur- 
ing the  year,  ending  last  April,  amounted 
to  £50,125.  3s.  2d.  The  building  of  the 
Menai  bridge,  and  the  new  road  across  the 
Island  of  Anglesea,  cost  £273,826.  19s.  Id. 

SCOTLAND The  working  classes  of 

Glasgow  recently  held  a  public  meeting  for 
Parliamentary  Reform.  The  whole  pro- 
ceedings ware  conducted  with  scrupulous 
propriety  and  good  order.  The  petitions  to 
the  King  and  to  Parliament  were  unani- 
mously carried.  There  were  11,000  persons 
present  at  the  meeting.  The  committee 
were  received  with  the  greatest  cordiality 
by  the  Lord  Provost,  the  Sheriff  Substitute, 
and  Captain  Graham ;  and  the  chief  magis- 
trate not  only  sanctioned  the  meeting,  but 
said,  that  they  had  as  good  a  right  to  meet 
and  discuss  the  evils  under  which  they  suf- 
fered as  they  (the  magistrates)  had.  At  the 
conclusion  the  committee  were  thanked  for 
the  orderly  manner  in  which  the  proceed- 
ings had  been  conducted. — Glasgow  Chro- 
nicle. 

IRELAND — There  is  nothing  which 
we  more  condemn  —  nothing  which  we 
would  be  more  remote  from  the  practice  of, 
than  exciting  unfounded  alarm  ;  but  it  does, 
indeed,  appear  to  us  that  "  We  have  fallen 
on  evil  tongues  and  evil  days" — the  one 
producing  the  other.  It  is  in  vain — it  were 
criminal,  to  disguise  ftom  the  friends  of 
peace  and  good  order  —  from  those  who 
would  not  hazard  the  essential  civil  and  re- 
ligious liberty  which  we  yet  possess  for  the 
delusive  speculations  of  a  wicked  faction, 
that  the  country  is  in  a  dangerous  state : 
the  fears  of  the  government  declare  it. 


Troops  are  coming  from  England,  and  de- 
pots and  magazines  are  shifting  from  places 
of  lesser  to  those  of  greater  security ;  and  if 
yet,  in  the  eleventh  hour,  vigorous  measures 
be  not  adopted — measures  excluding  insult 
and  persecution  of  old  and  tried  loyalty, 
and  favoritism  of  as  old  and  proven  disaffec- 
tion— an  attempt  towards  separation,  under 
cover  of  a  Repeal  of  the  Union,  will  be 
made  which  will  deluge  the  soil  of  Ireland 
with  the  blood  of  her  children.  "  Horrible 
imagining!" — but  more  horrible  that  it  is 
justified  by  facts — Dublin  Warder,  Oct.  16. 

A  dinner  has  recently  been  given  by  the 
citizens  of  Cork  to  Mr.  O'Connell,  on  the 
subject  of  the  "  Repeal  of  the  Union" — 
upwards  of  150  gentlemen  sat  down  to 
table ;  after  the  toast  of  "  O'Connell,  and 
may  the  people  ever  stand  by  him  as  he 
stands  by  the  people,"  he  rose  and  de- 
livered his  sentiments,  which,  at  particular 
parts,  were  vociferously  cheered.  He  said, 
"  They  say  that  all  Ireland  wants  Repose. 
Good  God  !  what  do  we  want  of  repose 
while  such  evils  exist  that  afflict  us  ?  Why, 
it  was  no  later  than  yesterday  that  I  saw, 
myself,  in  a  miserable  parish  near  Mill- 
street,  upwards  of  301.  levied  —  and  for 
what  ?  — to  support  a  Church  for  the  im- 
mense number  of  fourteen  Protestants  ! 
Is,  I  would  ask  those  quiet  persons  who  talk 
so  much  of  repose — is  Repose  any  remedy 
for  the  odious  and  grinding  monopoly  of 
your  beggarly  Corporation  ?  Is  repose  what 
will  destroy — nay,  prevent,  their  iniquitous 
exactions  ?  Is  repose  what  will  dissolve 
that  sacred  junta  which  plot  in  private 
against  your  liberties  and  immunities  as 
citizens — I  mean  the  Friendly  Club  ?  If 
they  want  repose,  let  them  give  us  rights  as 
men— if  they  wish  for  calm,  let  them  relieve 
us  from  the  intolerable  burthens  which  have 
hitherto  (but  which  shall  now  no  more  !) 
prostrated  our  energies  at  the  feet  of  our 
oppressors.  In  truth,  there  can  be  no 
greater  impertinence  imagined — no  greater 
insult  offered  to  your  understandings — than 
to  be  told  by  a  pampered  Aristocrat,  that 
you  want  Repose.  He  may  want  it,  when 
he  is  filled  to  repletion  with  the  riches 
wrung  from  the  exertions  of  your  country — 
but  we  want  it  not— we'll  have  none  of  it. 
No,  gentlemen,  the  want  of  Ireland  is  not 
Repose,  but  Agitation — quick,  spirit-stirring 
and  effective  Agitation.  It  is  by  Agitation 
alone  we  have  succeeded  in  wrenching  from 
them  what  they  have  already  reluctantly 
given — it  is  by  Agitation  alone  that  we  can 
ever  hope  to  obtain  any  thing  like  Re- 
dress ! !  !" — Cork  Chronicle. 

The  Lord  Lieutenant  has  also  issued  a 
proclamation,  suppressing  a  newly-formed 
Society,  calling  itself  "  The  Anti-Union 
Association,"  a  decisive  measure  which  has 
caused  an  extraordinary  sensation  in  Dub- 
lin ;  but  the  power  and  activity  of  the 
Agitators  are  such  as  to  give  rise  to  serious 
apprehension  for  the  ultimate  fate  of  the 
Protestant  interests. 


ALTESSE 

ILA 


•irt&y,  TJ£OJtfsoir,rt#m/ 


SZR  TJIOMAS  J.A  WRE^CI: 


27>e  Proofs  vy  MCofaafti,  23.  Cocfy&ur  S* 


THE 

MONTHLY    MAGAZINE 

OF 

POLITICS,  LITERATURE,  AND  THE  BELLES  LETTRES. 
VOL.  X.]  DECEMBER,  1830.  [No.  60. 

THE    WELLINGTON    AND    THE    GREY    ADMINISTRATIONS. 

WE  are  rejoiced  at  the  downfal,  the  ignominious  downfal,  of  the 
Wellington  administration.  And  for  this  rejoicing,  we  give  the  suffi- 
cient reasons,  that  it  was  in  its  nature  unconstitutional,  as  investing  an 
individual  with  the  whole  power  of  the  state  ;  in  its  principles  base,  as 
acting  altogether  through  a  cabinet,  of  which  there  was  not  a  single 
member  who  had  not  richly  earned  the  scorn  of  the  country ;  and  in  its 
conduct  contemptible,  as  having  characterized  its  power  by  a  succession 
of  miserable  failures  on  every  point  of  national  policy.  We  are  re- 
joiced, that  having  begun  in  an  insolent  determination  to  control  the 
mind  of  the  British  empire,  it  ended  in  a  ridiculous  display  of  public 
and  personal  impotency,  and  that  after  having  imperiously  declared 
against  all  improvement,  it  expired  in  the  midst  of  a  roar  of  public 
laughter. 

We  shall  give  a  brief  view  of  the  history  of  those  changes  which 
put  the  empire  into  the  hands  of  a  military  governor,  utterly  unac- 
quainted with  the  habits  of  civil  life,  ignorant  of  the  laws  of  Eng- 
land, professionally  contemptuous  of  all  feelings  but  those  of  the 
sword,  and  insolently  determining  that  the  concerns  of  a  great,  free, 
and  Christian  people  were  to  be  administered  with  the  rude  and 
vulgar  authority  of  the  field. 

The  death  of  Mr.  Canning,  in  1827,  placed  Lord  Goderich  in  the 
inauspicious  rank  of  Prime  Minister  :  half  whig,  arid  half  nondescript, 
this  cabinet  could  not  stand.  The  spirit  of  disunion  instantly  developed 
itself.  Mr.  Herries — for  such  are  the  trifles  that  overthrow  the  weak — 
Mr.  Herries  was  the  source  of  contention.  Lord  Lansdowne  had  ten- 
dered his  resignation  on  hearing  that  this  individual  was  to  be  imposed 
on  the  cabinet  as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  He  finally  acquiesced ; 
but  the  jealousy  on  all  sides  was  retained.  The  appointment  of  the 
Finance  Committee,  at  the  head  of  which  an  intrigue  of  the  late  Mr. 
Tierney  proposed  to  place  Lord  Althorp,  without  the  cognizance  of 
the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  was  an  affront  too  open  to  be  palliated. 
The  ministry  was  thrown  into  a  general  state  of  confusion.  After  three 
months  of  correspondence,  Lord  Goderich,  weary  of  the  struggle,  went 

M.M.  New  Series.—  VOL.  X.  No. 60.  4  I 


618  The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administrations.  QDEC. 

down  to  Windsor,  and  on  the  8th  of  January,  1828,  resigned  his  office 
into  the  hands  of  his  Majesty.  It  was  impossible  to  deny  Lord  Gode- 
rich's  claims  to  good  intention  and  public  honesty.  But  he  ought 
not  to  have  suffered  his  administration  to  be  broken  up  by  the  quarrels 
of  two  such  men  as  Herries  and  Huskisson,  he  ought  to  have  turned 
out  both  the  financiers,  and  having  thus  disposed  of  the  two  clerks, 
tried  how  the  country  could  be  governed  by  gentlemen. 

The  Duke  of  Wellington  was  appointed  First  Lord  Commissioner 
of  the  Treasury,  with  a  cabinet  of  twelve  members.  Parliament  met 
on  the  29th  of  January.  In  the  debate  on  the  address,  Mr.  Brougham 
stated  the  public  opinion  of  the  administration.  He  declared  f(  his  dis- 
like of  seeing  any  one  man  in  possession  of  the  whole  patronage  of 
the  crown,  the  patronage  of  the  army,  of  the  church,  of  every  thing. 
To  the  noble  duke  also  was  intrusted  the  delicate  function  of  con- 
veying constant  and  confidential  advice  to  the  ear  of  his  Majesty. 
As  a  constitutional  man,  this  state  of  things  struck  him  as  most 
unconstitutional.  He  had  been  told  that  the  noble  duke  was  a  person 
of  vigour  in  council,  and  that  his  talents  were  not  confined  to  the  art 
of  war.  It  might  be  so,  but  that  did  not  remove  his  objections  against 
the  noble  duke's  being  placed  in  possession  of  such  an  immense  mass  of 
civil  and  military  influence." 

Mr.  Brougham  then  went  into  his  own  theories  on  the  subject. 
"  He  had  no  fear  of  Slavery  being  introduced  into  this  country.  It  would 
take  a  stronger  man  than  the  Duke  of  Wellington  to  effect  such  an 
object.  The  noble  duke  might  take  the  army,  he  might  take  the  navy, 
he  might  take  the  mitre,  he  might  take  the  great  seal,  he  would  make 
the  noble  duke  a  present  of  them  all.  Let  him  come  sword  in  hand 
against  the  constitution,  and  the  energies  of  the  people  of  this  country 
would  not  only  beat  him,  but  laugh  at  his  efforts.  There  had  been 
periods  when  the  country  heard  with  dismay  that  the  f  soldier  was 
abroad/  There  was  now  another  person  abroad,  a  less  important  per- 
son, in  the  eyes  of  some  an  insignificant  person,  whose  labours  had 
tended  to  produce  this  state  of  things — the  schoolmaster  was  abroad  ; 
and  he  trusted  more  to  the  schoolmaster,  armed  with  his  primer,  than 
he  did  to  the  soldier  in  full  military  array,  for  upholding  and  extending 
the  liberties  of  his  country/' 

The  meaning  of  all  this  theory  being,  that  we  have  a  right  to  tempt 
danger,  that  we  need  not  disarm  a  military  despot  in  the  first  instance, 
because  we  shall  be  sure  of  beating  him  when  it  comes  to  a  contest, 
bayonet  to  bayonet;  and  that  the  soldier  is  to  be  suffered  to  en- 
croach, to  arm  himself,  and  make  his  attempt  with  his  best  powers  upon 
the  national  freedom,  because,  in  the  long  run,  the  schoolmaster  will 
defeat  him.  But  this  policy  is  too  expensive  for  us ;  we  wish  to  keep 
our  liberties  without  being  compelled  once  a  year  to  fight  for  them 
against  the  soldier  coming  from  Woolwich  with  his  train  of  artillery  ; 
we  think,  in  every  instance,  the  beginnings  of  tyrranny  must  be  put 
down,  and  that  nations  which  begin  by  indolence  will  end  by  slavery  ! 

The  Duke  of  Wellington's  ministry  commenced  with  the  most  pompous 
promises  of  guarding  every  interest  of  religion  and  state;  the  condition 
of  the  people  was  to  be  improved,  the  defects  in  the  constitution  were 
to  be  touched  with  a  sacred  delicacy,  yet  to  be  repaired  with  a  com- 
pleteness worthy  of  the  original  fabric ;  the  poor  were  to  be  sustained  ; 
the  abuses  of  the  parliamentary  representative  were  to  be  rectified  ;  our 


1830.]  The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administrations.  619 

allies  were  to  be  protected,  a  new  era  of  national  vigour  was  to  com- 
mence under  the  direction  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  Every  one 
of  those  promises  was  violated.  In  this  administration,  which 
was  to  keep  England  at  the  head  of  Europe,  the  supremacy  was  almost 
instantly  lost,  and  given  over  to  a  barbarian  power.  Russia  became 
the  first  empire  of  Europe.  Our  ally  Turkey  was  broken  down  before 
our  face.  Spain  defied  us ;  Portugal  held  us  at  bay.  France  sent  an 
expedition  to  Greece  in  direct  contempt  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington's 
remonstrances;  she  sent  another  expedition  to  Algiers  in  direct  con- 
tempt of  his  remonstrances,  and  conquered  it.  He  remonstrated  against 
her  keeping  it.  She  defied  him  again,  and  kept  it.  Feebleness  like 
this  produced  its  effect  gradually  on  the  British  nation.  The  military 
premier  was  discovered  to  be  a  boaster,  fit  for  nothing  beyond  the 
coarse  work  of  a  campaign,  and  acquainted  with  nothing  beyond  the 
harshness  of  military  command.  But  his  character  was  to  enjoy  a  still 
further  development. 

While  the  late  king  lived,  worn  down  with  disease,  and  surrounded 
by  a  set  of  people  who  make  the  natural  curse  of  an  idle  court,  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  insolent  by  nature,  and  surrounded  only  by  the  Peels 
and  other  slaves  who  knew  that  a  murmur  would  strip  them  of  their 
quarter's  salary,  was  paramount,  and  all  discontent  was  carefully  sup- 
pressed in  high  quarters.  But  the  accession  of  a  new  king  changed  the 
scene.  The  premier  was  no  longer  the  lord  of  the  ascendant,  he  found 
that  he  too  had  a  master,  a  fact  which  he  had  forgotten  for  some  years  ; 
his  nod  could  no  longer  do  every  thing,  he  grew  angry,  and  he  was 
fool  enough  to  let  the  world  see  that  he  did  so  ! 

The  nation,  disgusted  with  the  gross  displays  of  the  last  Parliament, 
had  determined  that  some  attempt  at  purification  should  be  made ;  they 
insisted  on  the  palpable  guilt  of  buying  and  selling  the  votes  of  men, 
who  were  called  on  by  the  law  to  swear  that  they  received  nothing  for 
their  votes.  They  cried  out  against  the  waste  and  corruption  of  the 
public  resources  merely  to  pamper  the  pride  of  a  crowd  of  dependants 
who  were  a  disgrace  to  the  country  that  fed  their  mendicant  pride. 

A  man  of  sense  would  have  acknowledged  that  the  national  opinion 
was  right,  that  the  vileness  of  Sinecures,  vested  interests,  and  Pensions 
for  no  one  knows  what  services,  should  be  extinguished,  and  that  the 
Parliament  should  be  free  from  the  stain  of  personal  corruption.  But 
the  Duke  was  angnj.  He  delivered  opinions  which  were  first  received 
by  the  nation  with  defiance,  and  next  with  ridicule ;  until  the  House  of 
Commons  at  length  taught  him  the  difference  between  the  command  of 
colonels  of  police  or  corporals  of  the  guards,  and  the  representatives  of  a 
country  which  still  hates  military  arrogance. 

But  there  is  no  downfal  so  complete  as  that  which  a  man  makes  for 
himself,  and  the  Duke  was  to  have  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  he 
had  made  himself  an  object  of  laughter  in  all  directions,  east  and  west. 
We  allude  to  the  Guildhall  dinner,  which  will  henceforth  make  a  pro- 
minent figure  in  his  grace's  biography.  It  was  among  the  most  blun- 
dering exhibitions  on  record.  All  London  laughed  at  the  announcement 
that  the  King,  the  most  popular  King  within  memory,  the  King  who 
has  been  walking  day  after  day  unattended  through  the  streets,  and  who 
might  have  walked  to  Guildhall,  with  no  more  attendance  than  the  re- 
spect of  the  people,  could  not  go  to  dine  with  the  citizens  without 
the  chance,  nay,  the  certainty,  of  being  attacked  if  not  shot,  on  his 

412 


620  The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administrations.  £DEC. 

way.  Who  were  to  be  the  storming-party,  whether  they  were  to 
clecend  from  the  moon  or  to  ascend  from  Fleet  ditch,  whether  the  Thames 
was  to  disembark  an  army  on  its  shores,  or  the  warlike  shopkeepers  of 
Fleet-street  were  to  take  the  field  against  the  gilt  coach  and  cream- 
coloured  horses,  has  not  yet  been  explained.  But  it  served  as  the  foun- 
dation of  morning  cabinet  councils,  midnight  despatches,  couriers  riding 
for  their  lives  from  the  Mansion  House  to  Whitehall,  and  regiments  or- 
dered to  break  up  from  their  quarters,  in  full  fighting  order,  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice.  In  fact,  nothing  escaped  disclosure,  except  the  nature  of 
the  danger,  of  which  the  secret  was  kept  with  memorable  strictness,  and 
is  still  deposited  in  the  breasts  of  the  original  discoverers. 

It  happened  that  the  only  menace  in  the  Lord  Mayor's  letter  was 
against  the  Duke  himself,  and  we  still  find  it  difficult  to  discover  why 
the  public  disgust  for  his  grace  should  have  any  thing  to  do  with  their 
feelings  towards  the  King.  But  those  are  secrets  of  State.  Sir  Robert 
Peel  wrote  the  notice,  that  his  Majesty  could  not  venture ;  the  citizens 
read  the  notice  with  contempt  for  the  writer,  and  utter  denial  of  the 
danger.  But  the  Duke  was  not  to  go  ;  and  the  question  was  decided. 

We  understand  that  the  King,  since  he  has  got  rid  of  the  Duke  ; 
whether  it  is  that  the  loyal  citizens  have  grown  more  warlike,  or  the 
days  longer  within  this  month,  intends  to  eat  his  dinner  at  the  Mansion 
House  in  spite  of  being  shot  on  his  way,  or  having  Fleet-street  barri- 
cadoed  by  an  army  of  a  hundred  thousand  rebels  debouching  from  Chan- 
cery-lane. 

The  Wellington  Administration  perished  totally,  under  the  ridicule  of 
this  most  ridiculous  transaction.  The  chieftain  himself  was  obviously 
borne  down  by  a  sense  of  contemptible  failure,  and  the  feeble  tone  in 
which  he  made  the  last  dying  speech  of  his  power,  was  not  more  indi- 
cative of  the  fallen  minister,  than  of  the  fallen  man. 

The  Guildhall  affair  had  enough  of  folly  in  it  to  reconcile  the  most 
stubborn  unbeliever  to  the  idea  that  the  ministry  were  not  gifted  with 
the  sort  of  understanding  precisely  fitted  for  governing  the  country. 
But  the  sycophants  of  the  premier  had  laboured  so  long  to  establish  for 
him  a  reputation  for  miraculous  sagacity,  that  we  shall  take  the  trouble 
of  giving  another  proof  of  his  utter  inaptitude.  The  King's  speech 
furnishes  an  unanswerable  case.  It  was  the  declared  desire  of  the 
nation  that  we  should  not  interfere  in  the  quarrels  of  foreigners.  In 
the  first  place  we  have  no  right  to  dictate  to  any  people  what  form  of 
government  they  shall  choose,  any  more  than  we  have  a  right  to  dictate 
what  food  they  shall  eat,  or  what  clothes  they  shall  wear.  In  the  next, 
England  has  always  found  this  kind  of  interference  as  impolitic  as  it 
was  unjust,  being  always  finally  dragged  into  the  heat  of  the  conflict 
as  a  principal,  seeing  her  efforts  baffled,  and  the  only  results  being  the 
hatred  of  the  nation  concerned,  the  ridicule  of  all  other  nations,  and 
three  or  four  hundred  millions  added  to  our  national  debt.  The  peculiar 
case  before  government  at  the  time  was  Belgium.  And  on  this  the 
nation  had  already  decided  that  we  should  leave  the  parties  concerned, 
to  settle  it  between  them.  All  the  government  declarations  through 
the  newspapers  were  of  exactly  the  same  tenor. 

Yet  what  was  the  astonishment  of  all  men  of  common  sense,  when 
the  following  paragraph  made  its  appearance  in  the  King's  Speech. 

"  I  have  witnessed  with  deep  regret  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  Low  Coun- 
tries. I  lament  that  the  enlightened  Administration  of  the  King  should  not 


1830.]  The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administrations. 

have  preserved  his  dominions  from  revolt,  and  that  the  wise  and  prudent 
measure  of  submitting  the  desires  and  the  complaints  of  his  people  to  the 
deliberation  of  an  extraordinary  meeting  of  the  States-General,  should  have 
led  to  no  satisfactory  result. 

"I  am  endeavouring,  in  concert  with  my  Allies,  to  devise  such  means  of 
restoring  tranquillity  as  may  be  compatible  with  the  welfare  and  good  govern- 
ment of  the  Netherlands,  and  with  the  future  security  of  other  States!" 

And  this  was  non-intervention.  This  was  abstaining  from  taking  a  side. 
This  was  "  giving  no  opinion  either  way/'  Men  of  plain  understanding, 
from  London  to  St.  Petersburg,  read  it  in  a  totally  different  way ;  and 
the  stocks  fell  instantly,  in  the  expectation  of  immediate  measures  of  war. 
All  Belgium  read  it  in  the  same  plain  way,  and  set  down  England  in 
the  ranks  of  its  enemies.  All  Europe  had  made  up  its  mind  upon  the 
subject ;  and  it  seems  likely  that  nothing  but  the  extreme  caution  of  the 
French  King  could  have  prevented  his  cabinet  from  issuing  a  counter 
declaration,  and  declaring,  "  that  he  had  witnessed  with  deep  regret  the 
state  of  affairs  in  the  Low  Countrie.3.  He  lamented  that  the  enlightened 
administration  bf  the  Belgium  Insurrection  had  not  preserved  its  domi- 
nions from  the  attacks  of  tyranny  ;  and  that  the  wise  and  prudent  mea- 
sure of  submitting  the  desires  and  complaints  of  the  people  to  a  native 
Legislature  should  have  led  to  no  satisfactory  results.  In  consequence 
whereof  the  King  of  the  French  was  endeavouring  in  concert  with  his 
Allies,  to  devise  such  means  of  restoring  tranquillity  as  were  compatible 
with  the  welfare  and  good  government  of  the  Netherlands ;  and  with 
the  future  security  of  other  Slates." 

Is  there  a  man  in  England  who  could  have  doubted  that  such  a  paper 
was  a  manifesto  ?  or  that  the  French  were  preparing  to  uphold  the 
Belgians  by  arms  ?  On  this  point  Earl  Grey's  observations  in  the  debate 
are  unanswerable. 

"  We  should  consider  well  the  nature  of  the  sacrifices  we  were  called  on  to 
make,  in  order  to  maintain  the  union  between  these  countries.  If  his  Majesty, 
in  his  speech,  only  meant  to  lament  that  troubles  had  broken  out  in  the 
Netherlands,  and  to  deprecate  the  consequences  that  might  flow  from  them, 
he  (Earl  Grey)  had  not  a  single  word  to  say  on  the  subject.  But  the  speech 
went  further,  and  pronounced  an  opinion  on  the  transactions  referred  to,  by 
speaking  of  the  '  revolt'  of  one  of  the  parties  against  an  *  enlightened  admi- 
nistration.' This  was  totally  inconsistent  with  the  principles  of  non-inter- 
ference, which  ought  to  regulate  our  policy  in  such  cases — it  was  taking  up 
the  cause  of  the  King  against  his  '  revolted'  subjects — revolted,  too,  from  a 
wise  and  ' enlightened'  government:  if  so,  the  revolt  ought  to  be  sup- 
pressed and  punished  ;  and  was  the  Noble  Duke  (Wellington)  prepared  to 
aid  the  King  of  the  Netherlands  in  bringing  matters  to  that  issue  ?  He 
trusted  not ;  but  trusted  that  if  the  Noble  Duke  were  of  that  mind,  the  House 
would  not  support  such  conduct.  (Hear  !)  He  believed  the  Noble  Duke 
would  find  no  support  for  such  an  attempt  in  a  country  too  much  at- 
tached to  liberty  itself  to  interfere  with  the  liberty  of  others. — But  would  the 
Noble  Duke  mediate?  How  would  he  act  the  part  of  an  impartial  mediator 
after  pronouncing  an  opinion  on  the  conduct  of  one  of  the  parties  ?  The 
allusion  to  the  state  of  Belgium  was  ill-judged,  to  say  the  least.  If  it  came 
at  last  to  the  issue  which  he  expected — namely,  that  the  Netherlands  would 
constitute  a  new  State,  independent  of  other  countries ;  if  it  should  come 
to  that,  in  what  situation  would  the  Noble  Duke  stand,  when  he  should  be 
obliged  to  acknowledge  a  Government  composed  of  people  whom  he  had 
denounced  as  rebels  ?  He  was  sure  if  the  Noble  Duke  proposed  to  France 
such  an  interference  as  appeared  to  be  contemplated,  that  she  would  resist, 
and  the  consequence  must  be  an  interruption  of  tranquillity." 


622  The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administrations,  [DEC. 

This  was  plain  sense,  and  was  not  to  be  answered,  but  by  some  fair 
acknowledgment  that  Belgium  was  to  be  put  down  at  all  hazards,  and 
that  England  was*,  to  be  one  of  the  instruments  in  putting  it  down. 
But  the  Duke  of  Wellington  had  already  changed  his  tone,  for  it  is 
impossible  to  doubt  that  his  original  language  had  been  hostile.  It  was 
now  to  be  declared  that  prejudging  meant  giving  no  opinion  what- 
ever, and  that  pronouncing  the  act  of  the  Belgians  to  be  a  revolt,  meant 
nothing  but  a  pacificatory  arrangement. 

" f  I  hope/  said  the  noble  Duke,  '  that  we  shall  be  enabled  to  effect  the 
pacification  by  means  of  impartial  mediation,  and  a  prudent  conciliation, 
without  any  necessity  for  an  appeal  to  arms.  The  Noble  Earl  may  be 
assured,  therefore,  that  there  is  no  intention  on  our  part  to  interfere  by 
force,  or  by  an  appeal  to  arms.  We  hope,  by  means  of  negociation,  and  by 
moderate,  conciliatory,  and  pacific  intervention,  to  carry  into  effect  an 
arrangement  that  ought  to  be  satisfactory  to  all  parties,  conducive  to  the 
peace  and  good  government  of  the  Netherlands,  and  to  the  welfare  and 
tranquillity  of  Europe. ' ' 

In  all  this  tissue  of  declaration,  and  of  denial  in  the  teeth  of  declara- 
tion, plain  men  can  discover  nothing  but  feebleness,  want  of  purpose, 
and  want  of  knowledge  of  the  feelings  of  England.  We  have  not  the 
slightest  idea  that  the  Duke  of  Wellington  intended  to  involve  England 
in  war  for  the  supremacy  of  the  Dutch  King;  yet  he  must  make  a 
bravado  :  could  he  believe  that  his  bravado  would  answer  the  purpose  of 
putting  down  the  Belgian  insurrection  ?  No.  Might  it  not  have  driven 
Belgium  in  its  first  alarm  into  throwing  itself  into  the  hands  of  France  ? 
Undoubtedly :  for  men  will  not  suffer  their  bodies  to  be  cast  into  Dutch 
dungeons,  nor  their  throats  to  be  cut  on  Dutch  scaffolds,  while  they  can 
save  either  liberty  or  life  by  calling  in  the  help  of  their  neighbours. 
Might  it  not  too  have  given  the  French  liberals  the  opportunity  which 
they  so  obviousty  desire,  of  taking  Belgium  under  their  protection,  and 
forcing  their  King  to  set  himself  at  the  head  of  insurrection  and  repub- 
licanism throughout  Europe  ?  Undoubtedly.  And  nothing  but  the 
instant  disclaimer  wrung  from  this  rash  minister,  could  have  prevented 
the  catastrophe.  Thanks  to  "  his  Majesty's  opposition,"  which  righted 
his  Majesty's  government,  redeemed  the  credit  of  the  country  out  of  the 
giddy  hands  of  the  outcast  cabinet ;  and  compelling  the  chief  of  that 
cabinet  to  swallow  his  words,  substituted  words  of  quietness  and  com- 
mon sense  in  their  room. 

But  his  Grace  had  to  exhibit  himself  in  one  more  attitude  of  bravado  ; 
and  luckily  it  was  the  last  in  which  he  is  likely  to  display  himself  for 
some  time.  England,  infinitely  disgusted  with  her  late  parliament, 
which  she  had  seen  successively  upholding  every  ministry,  let  its  prin- 
ciples be  however  obnoxious,  or  its  waste  of  the  public  money  on  its 
creatures  be,  however  scandalous ;  had  been  driven  by  the  palpable 
necessity  of  the  case  into  a  demand  of  some  change  which  might  give 
her  an  honest  representation.  The  cry  was  no  longer  confined  to  the 
radical  or  the  whig ;  men  of  all  parties  and  of  none,  equally  joined  in  it ; 
and  the  tories  were  the  loudest  in  their  determination  to  have  some 
change  instantly  made.  Yet  the  premier,  urged  by  his  fate,  and  under 
the  influence  of  that  feeling  of  mingled  short-sightedness  and  arrogance 
which  makes  him  the  most  unfit  man  alive  to  be  the  minister  of  a 
country  where  men  have  rights  and  feelings  to  be  consulted,  haughtily 
declares  himself  against  all  improvement.  He  does  more,  he  ornaments 


1830.]  The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administrations.  623 

his  extravagant  and  monstrous  dictum  with  a  border  of  ridiculous 
assertions,  which  every  man  in  the  house  and  out  of  the  house  must  have 
laughed  at.  He  tells  the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons,  that  their 
mode  of  election  is  the  most  perfect  conceivable  by  the  human  mind.  This 
he  tells  to  the  members  for  old  Sarum,  for  Gatton  Park,  for  the  Cinque 
Ports,  and  for  the  Cornish  boroughs.  No  doubt  the  intelligence  must  have 
found  a  delighted  echo  in  the  bosom  of  the  Honourable  Member  Sir 
Massah  Manasseh  Lopez,  and  his  class  of  honourable  representatives. 
No  doubt  it  must  have  been  received  with  rapture  in  the  whole  circle  of 
rotten  boroughs ;  but  by  all  men  yet  unstained  with  that  traffic,  it  must 
have  been  listened  to  with  the  deepest  disdain  of  the  assertion  and  the 
assertor.  Now  let  the  ex-premier  be  tried  by  his  acts.  First,  as  to  his 
foreign  policy.  How  did  he  receive  England  from  the  Canning  cabinet;  for 
Lord  Goderich  was  too  short  a  time  in  power  to  make  any  change  ?  Eng- 
land was  then  the  great  arbiter  of  Europe,  the  friend  of  rational  because 
necessary  change,  and  offering  to  the  nations  the  finest  model  of  tem- 
perate liberty.  How  did  he  leave  it  ?  Is  England  now  the  arbiter  of 
Europe  ?  Do  aggrieved  nations  look  up  to  her  for  protection?  Is  she  the 
patroness  of  freedom  in  foreign  lands,  the  interposer  between  the  strong 
and  the  week,  the  preserver  of  the  European  balance  ?  Ask  the  Portu- 
guese exile,  the  Spanish,  the  German  aspirant  after  a  free  constitution. 
Is  she  the  defender  of  the  balance  of  Europe  ?  See  Turkey  on  the  point 
of  adding  to  the  inordinate  dominion  of  the  Czar.  See  the  whole  Con- 
tinent at  this  hour  mustering  its  armies,  and  preparing  for  new  violences 
against  the  liberties  of  man,  and  new  encroachments  on  the  peace  of 
nations. 

Let  us  next  look  to  our  home  policy.  His  trophies  are,  universal  dis- 
content among  the  people,  poverty  among  the  manufacturers,  and  dis- 
orders, scarcely  inferior  to  civil  war,  amongst  the  agriculturists,  the 
most  important  class  of  the  entire  population.  His  next  trophies  are 
the  Catholic  Question,  and  the  New  Police.  And,  first,  of  the  police. 
He  has  raised,  under  that  name,  a  force  alien  to  the  customs  of  England, 
offensive  to  the  public  sense  of  freedom,  and  singularly  burthensome  to 
the  public  purse.  To  keep  down  the  pickpockets  and  casual  offenders 
of  London,  he  has  raised  a.  force,  organized  on  military  principles, 
chiefly  soldiers,  commanded  by  a  soldier,  and  already  amounting  in 
number  to  seven  regiments  of  the  foot-guards !  Let  the  citizens  of 
London  think  of  the  strength  of  this  new  military  levy ;  and  believe, 
if  they  can,  that  its  sole  service  was  to  clear  the  streets  of  petty  larceny. 
Or  let  the  honest  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  think  what  would 
be  their  feelings,  if  a  minister  had  stood  up  and  moved  for  the  te  imme- 
diate raising  of  seven  additional  regiments  of  guards !"  Yet  this  has 
been  done.  The  numbers  of  the  police  amount  to  nearly  four  thousand 
already,  and  it  was  the  intention  to  augment  them,  and  spread  the 
system  through  England.  They  are  trained  to  military  discipline, 
barracked,  inured  to  military  habits,  were  appointed  by  the  Horse 
Guards,  commanded  by  the  Horse  Guards,  make  their  daily  reports  to 
the  minister,  and  were  sedulously  separated  from  all  connection  with  the 
safe  and  constitutional  authority  of  the  magistrates  and  the  people. 
They  were,  in  all  senses  of  the  word,  a  new  force,  a  French  notion 
imported  into  British  institutions,  a  gendarmerie,  and  equal  to  all  the 
purposes  of  a  gendarmerie. 

Against  this  police  the  public  voice  has  been  loudly  and  unremit- 


624  The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administrations.  [ DEC. 

t'ngly  raised.  The  parishes  have  declared  that  its  expense  is,  in  all 
instances,  seriously  greater  than  that  of  the  former  watch  ;  in  some 
instances  four  times  as  great.  But  the  objection  equivalent  to  all,  is 
that  it  is  the  introduction  of  an  unconstitutional  force,  which  might 
be  used  for  the  most  hazardous  purposes.  The  late  French  revolution, 
by  shewing  the  power  of  the  people,  has  relieved  us  of  some  of  our 
alarms  on  the  subject.  But  we  have  no  desire  to  see  ourselves  driven 
to  so  desperate  a  remedy ;  and  think  that  a  nation  worthy  to  enjoy 
liberty,  will  shew  its  value  for  the  possession  in  the  best  way,  by 
observing  with  the  keenest  vigilance  every  approach  to  its  injury.  * 

As  to  the  trivial  answer,  that  the  streets  are  better  watched,  we  say 
that  they  may  well  be  better  watched,  at  three  and  four  times  the 
former  expense  ;  but  we  say  also  that  they  would  be  still  better  watched, 
if  there  were  a  soldier  planted  at  every  two  feet,  and  a  battalion  en- 
camped in  every  square  of  London.  The  truth  is,  that  the  police  were 
capable  of  purposes  of  a  very  different  nature  from  watching  the  city 
of  London  ;  and  well  may  we  rejoice  that  the  ministry  is  crushed, 
which  created  such  a  force. 

But  the  Catholic  Question  involved  a  higher  evil  than  the  degrada- 
tion of  public  character  in  a  set  of  slaves,  who  valued  character  only 
for  its  weight  in  the  beggar-barter  for  place.  It  is  impossible  for  any 
man,  dispassionately  comparing  Popery  with  Christianity,  not  to  see, 
what  our  great  reformers  saw,  that  the  religion  of  Rome  is  a  tremendous 
corruption  of  the  religion  of  the  Apostles  ;  that  the  head  bowed  down 
in  homage  to  a  statue  or  a  picture,  and  the  voice  lifted  up  in  prayer 
to  St.  Peter  or  the  Virgin,  is  a  total  perversion  of  the  purposes  of 
Christianity,  is  a  total  departure  from  its  spirit — and,  as  such,  must 
involve  all  the  fatal  results  consequent  on  that  departure.  It  is  equally 
undeniable  that  in  every  country  Protestantism  has  been  the  origin  and 
nursing  mother  of  Liberty,  of  Peace,  of  Morality,  and  even  of  earthly 
opulence.  While  Popery  has  been  always  characterized  by  its  in- 
separable connection  with  slavery,  sloth,  impurity,  and  the  suppression 
of  Knowledge  !  It  is  not  less  known  to  those  who  study  the  Scriptures, 
and  study  them  with  the  reverence  due  to  the  words  of  the  Eternal 
Judge  of  man,  that  terrible  judgments  are  denounced  upon  the  holders 
of  this  apostate  faith ;  and  that  the  only  security  against  either  its 
corruptions,  its  blandishments,  or  its  punishments,  is  by  keeping  aloof 
from  any  share  in  its  system.  The  slightest  glance  at  our  own  history  too 
will  shew  that  the  purity  of  our  Protestantism  has  been  invariably  our 
national  strength,  and  that  our  contact  with  Popery  has  been  always 
publicly  fatal,  visited  with  great  misfortunes,  and  continually  so  visited 
until  the  evil  contact  was  no  more,  and  the  old  wall  of  partition  again 
separated  the  pure  religion  from  the  impure. 

We  altogether  disdain  the  sneer  with  which  such  opinions  are  sure 
to  be  received  by  the  superficial,  and  the  scorner.  This  is  not  the 
place  for  either  asserting  or  defending  our  belief;  but  we  must  look 
upon  the  understanding  as  wretchedly  narrow,  and  the  mind  deplorably 
and  calamitously  dark,  which,  in  speaking  of  the  general  course  of 
events,  does  not  recognize  the  action  of  a  Providence ;  in  alluding  to 
the  Scriptures,  does  not  render  the  deepest  tribute  of  the  heart  to  their 
holy  and  supernatural  wisdom ;  or,  in  speaking  of  religious  things,  is 
ashamed  to  acknowledge  itself  an  humble  and  willing  believer  in  the 
high  and  glorious  truths  of  God's  revealed  will. 


1830.]  The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administrations.  025 

Against  this  knowledge  we  nationally  sinned,  by  giving  to  the 
Roman  Catholics  the  only  thing  that  Popery  ever  asked, — Power,  and 
by  giving  a  national  sanction  to  practices  which  we  know  to  be  ob- 
noxious. The  Papist  worship  of  the  dead,  of  the  statue,  of  the  wafer, 
which  we  know  to  be  idolatrous,  or  we  know  nothing  of  Christianity;  is 
now  no  longer  a  matter  of  toleration,  but  a  matter  of  equal  right  with  the 
pure  worship  ;  no  longer  conceded  for  the  indulgence  of  conscience,  but 
conceded  for  the  sake  of  a  guilty  policy,  as  it  was  demanded  in  the 
spirit  of  a  haughty  and  rebellious  pride. 

We  state,  once  for  all,  the  ground  of  Protestant  opposition  to  the 
political  claims  of  the  Roman  Catholic.  The  Protestant,  taking  the 
Scriptures  for  his  guide,  sees  that  the  Roman  Catholic  doctrines  are 
adverse  to  Scripture,  and  therefore  dangerous  and  fatal  to  those  who 
believe  them.  He,  therefore,  feeling  it  to  be  a  solemn  duty  to  warn  his 
fellow  men  of  errors  which  involve  their  eternal  peace,  feels  himself 
bound  to  refuse  every  means  by  which  those  errors  can  be  propagated 
and  made  a  temptation  to  the  weak.  We  all  know  that  political  power 
can  do  much  with  a  feeble  conscience ;  therefore  it  is  the  duty  of  the 
Christian  to  refuse  all  that  kind  of  power  which  can  make  men  overlook 
untruths  in  the  glare  of  worldly  honours,  or  make  zeal  in  the  propa- 
gation of  those  untruths  a  passport  to  worldly  distinction,  or  give  their 
professors  an  actual  means  of  injuring  the  immediate  quiet  and  gene- 
ral frame  of  Protestantism.  Now  all  those  dangerous  results  must  be 
contemplated  in  making  Roman  Catholics  an  equal  part  of  the  Pro- 
testant legislature. 

There  is  in  the  first  instance,  the  semblance  that  the  Protestant 
does  not  consider  the  Popish  doctrines  so  obnoxious  as  the  Scriptures 
declare  them  to  be,  when  he  intimately  associates  their  avowed 
champions  with  himself  in  the  highest  affairs  of  life,  in  the  defence 
of  his  liberties,  and  even  in  the  care  and  support  of  his  religion.  In 
the  next,  he  adds  to  the  allurements  of  a  religion  which  eminently 
appeals  to  the  senses,  the  attractions  of  public  influence,  and  even  the 
certainty  of  attaining  that  influence  by  exhibiting  a  more  than  common 
zeal  in  the  cause ;  and  lastly  by  making  the  Roman  Catholic  a  party  in 
the  legislature,  he  directly  gives  a  power  of  impeding  and  injuring  the 
tranquillity  of  that  Protestantism,  against  which  Popery  declares  per- 
petual war,  which  it  pronounces  to  be  a  criminal  revolt  from  its  allegiance, 
and  which  it  with  still  more  formidable  vengeance  declares,  is  to  be 
reclaimed  by  the  fire  and  the  sword.  These  are  the  acknowledged 
doctrines  of  the  Romish  church.  The  heretic  must  be  converted,  or 
must  atone  for  his  belief,  at  the  stake. 

If  the  comparative  weakness  of  the  Papal  throne,  or  the  improved 
moderation  of  Europe,  prevent  those  frightful  doctrines  from  having 
their  full  execution  ;  the  doctrines  are  still  in  existence.  Their  church 
prides  itself  in  their  being  unchanged.  In  this  world  of  revolutions 
the  time  may  come,  and  come  soon,  when  Popery  shall  be  armed  once 
again  with  the  means  of  inflicting  general  misery ;  and  what  but  the 
most  criminal  neglect  of  common  prudence,  would  depend  for  the 
religious  and  civil  liberties  of  ourselves  or  our  children,  upon  things 
so  fluctuating  as  popular  opinion,  the  supremacy  of  England,  or  the 
tender  mercies  of  Popery.  And  yet  by  placing  the  Roman  Catholic  in 
the  legislature,  we  have,  as  far  as  we  could,  given  him  this  power.  If 
we  are  to  be  told  that  hitherto  no  harm  has  been  done,  and  that  only 

M.M.  New  Scries.— VOL.  X.  No.  60.  4  K 


026  The  Wellington  and  Ike  Grey  Administration*.  f  DEC. 

ten  or  a  dozen  Roman  Catholics  have  become  members  of  Parliament ; 
our  answer  is  plain;  that  a  single  year  is  no  standard  of  the  evil  of  a 
legislative  absurdity,  which  is  to  spread  over  the  existence  of  all  empire; 
that  no  one  ever  supposed  that  in  the  first  two  or  three  parliaments 
the  evil  would  be  prominent;  and  that  the  Roman  Catholics  were,  hitherto, 
chiefly  among  the  lower  classes,  and  kept  back  by  their  habits  of  life 
from  the  means  of  indulging  a  dangerous  ambition.  But  this  means 
we  have  now  given  them,  and  now  that  their  eyes  are  fixed  on  Par- 
liament, we  shall  see  the  madness  of  our  concession,  in  the  continued  influx 
of  Roman  Catholics.  But,  one  point  is  still  to  be  peculiarly  observed. 
In  the  Iat6  elections,  the  Popish  priesthood  were  singularly  and  suspi- 
ciously quiet.  That  they  can  be  singularly  active,  and  suspiciously 
influential  we  have  had  abundant  proof. 

In  the  Clare  election,  when  there  was  a  Papist  object  to  carry, 
they  carried  it  with  a  high  hand.  They  broke  down  with  the  most 
perfect  ease  the  influence  of  the  crown,  the  church,  and  the  country 
gentlemen.  They  trampled  Protestantism  under  their  feet,  and  waving 
alternately  the  cross  and  the  green  banner,  they  bore  their  popular  can- 
didate into  parliament.  But  that  deed  once  done,  they  instantly 
stopped,  their  enthusiasm  seemed  to  be  extinguished  at  the  moment 
when  it  might  have  been  expected  to  blaze,  they  seemed  tamed  by  their 
victory,  and  while  a  common  calculation  might  have  supposed  the  whole 
Popish  priesthood  lifting  the  trumpet  to  their  lips,  and  summoning  all 
their  congregations  to  the  support  of  Popery  in  the  Legislature,  not  a 
note  was  heard ;  all  was  completely  hushed,  doubtless,  by  orders  from 
high  quarters. 

The  palpable  reason  of  this  extraordinary  stillness  is,  that  having 
accomplished  the  only  difficult  part  of  the  achievement  by  forcing 
open  the  gates  of  the  legislature,  they  were  sagaciously  prohibited  from 
awaking  the  British  parliament  to  the  folly  which  it  had  committed, 
by  any  hasty  exhibition  of  their  strength  ;  and  they  have,  in  conse- 
quence, suffered  the  elections  to  take  their  natural  course  for  a  while. 
But  when  any  foreign  policy  shall  make  it  of  importance  to  Rome  to 
influence  the  British  legislature,  we  shall  see  the  mandate  sent  forth  to 
the  priesthood,  the  populace  summoned  from  the  altar,  and  the  whole 
force  of  Popery  pouring  into  the  houses  of  parliament. 

But  the  grand  folly  and  crime  are  already  committed.  The  progress 
of  Popery  has  been  suddenly  aided  by  the  legislature,  so  far  as  it  could ; 
by  this  act,  it  has  declared  that  truth  and  error  in  religion  to  it  are  the 
same ;  that  a  man  is  not  the  worse  legislator  for  being  the  propagator 
of  the  most  erroneous  religion ;  that  he  tnay  be  a  perfect  subject  of 
the  law,  while  he  is  a  wilful  or  a  blind  opponent  of  those  mighty  truths 
which  are  the  foundation  of  all  law  ;  and  that  he  may  be  a  safe 
guardian  of  the  liberties,  civil,  and  religious,  of  a  people,  whose  whole 
constitution  has  been  founded  on  a  determined  and  principled  rejection 
of  the  authority,  of  the  practises,  and  of  the  doctrines  of  that  Popery 
which  he  is  bound,  at  the  peril  of  his  body  and  soul,  to  make  para- 
mount over  all  the  rights  and  creeds  of  mankind. 

But  what  have  been  the  fruits  of  this  guilty  and  boasted  measure, 
even  while  the  ink  that  registered  it  was  scarcely  dry  ?  Has  it  paci- 
fied Ireland  ?  Let  the  answer  be  given  in  the  universal  tumults  of 
Ireland,  in  the  insolent  and  daring  public  meetings,  the  furious  speeches, 
the  proposals  for  armed  confederacies,  the  contumely  and  defiance  of 


1830.]  The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administration*.  027 

government,  and  in  the  still  deeper  determinations  of  men  who  have 
been  distinctly  taught  that  they  can  overawe  the  legislature. 

Has  it  bound  any  one  portion  of  Ireland  faster  to  this  country  ? 
It  has  alienated  the  whole  Protestant  community  of  Ireland  to  such  a 
degree,  that  even  the  imminent  danger  of  a  separation,  which  would 
make  Ireland  at  once  a  Popish  republic,  and  a  field  of  blood  to  the 
Protestant,  has  not  been  able  to  make  them  come  forward  in  defence 
of  the  British  connexion.  They  have  been  disgusted.  They  declare  that 
they  were  scorned,  tricked  and  insulted  ;  and  the  zeal  which  once 
burned  so  brightly  in  their  bosoms,  and  which  they  displayed  by  the 
noblest  efforts  in  the  most  perilous  times,  the  generous  and  hal- 
lowed zeal  with  which  they  resisted  the  Popish  despotism  of  James, 
at  the  most  afflicting  sacrifices,  and  sustained  the  fortunes  of  William 
and  Protestantism  with  the  most  gallant  devotement  of  their  blood, 
has  utterly  passed  away.  In  the  measure  of  Catholic  emancipation  they 
feel  the  old  contract  of  England  with  their  ancestors  broken,  and  they 
now,  between  indignation  and  sorrow,  rest  on  their  arms,  and  look  on, 
while  they  see  Rebellion  fitting  on  its  sword,  and  a  struggle  preparing 
which  will  shake  the  country  to  its  foundations.  So  much  for  the  great 
healing  measure  in  Ireland  ! 

And  what  has  it  effected  already  on  the  Continent  ?  This  is  a  ques- 
tion of  scarcely  a  more  complicated  nature.  For  a  long  period  there 
has  been  a  contest  in  Europe  between  despotism  and  democracy.  The 
first  French  Revolution  was  its  original  display,  but  the  popular  vio- 
lences were  so  terrible,,  that  the  aspect  of  popular  power,  begrimed  with 
civil  blood,  and  inflamed  with  the  intoxication  of  the  most  unbridled 
vice,  made  itself  hideous  in  the  eyes  of  mankind.  Yet  this  might  have 
gradually  assumed  a  more  human  aspect,  and  might  have  ended  by 
shaping  the  Continental  tyrannies  into  limited  governments,  but  for  the 
usurpation  of  Napoleon.  War  was  his  throne — he  lived  by  bloodshed, 
and  his  existence  expired  when  France  grew  weary  of  feeding  him 
with  slaughter.  The  fall  of  France  re-established  the  old  system,  and 
all  the  leading  despotisms  of  the  Continent  seemed  to  have  been  fixed 
fixed  on  firmer  grounds  than  ever. 

But  the  feeling  survived,  and  men  justly  declared  that  monarchy 
was  an  institution  not  for  the  simple  purpose  of  enabling  a  race  of  high-  «. 
born  individuals  to  do  with  mankind  as  ihey  pleased  ;  but  to  make  their 
people  secure  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  abilities,  time,  and  industry. 
And  this  is  to  be  secured  only  by  a  Constitution,  which  puts  the  liberty 
of  the  subject  beyond  the  future  caprice  of  the  sovereign.  This  is  the 
liberty  which  we  enjoy  in  England,  which  is  guarded  by  a  Constitution, 
and  which  the  monarch  cannot  change.  All  the  continental  kings  had 
promised  their  people  this  kind  of  defence  against  arbitrary  power ; 
but  the  promise  was  given  in  the  day  of  danger,  and  its  purpose  was  to 
rouse  their  subjects  to  exertion  against  Napoleon.  The  people  did  their 
part,  and  Napoleon  was  destroyed.  The  sovereigns  failed  in  their  per- 
formance, and  the  despotisms  even  grew  more  sullen,  arbitrary,  and 
violent,  as  the  discontents  of  the  people  at  this  breach  of  promise  were 
more  openly  expressed. 

There  may  have  been  popular  excesses,  and  even  republican  follies 
and  frenzies  in  some  instances.  But  let  an  Englishman  put  himself  in 
the  place  of  a  foreign  subject,  and  then  consider  how  he  would  relish 
the  conduct  of  government.  With  the  single  exception  of  France,  there 

4  K  2 


628  The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administrations.  £DEC. 

is  not  on  the  Continent,  from  the  straights  of  Dover  to  the  Euxine,  a 
single  kingdom,  where  the  subject  is  secure  of  his  liberty  for  the  next 
twenty-four  hours  or  minutes.  An  order  of  the  king,  or  of  the  king's 
minister,  or  of  any  of  the  hundred  underlings  of  office,  may  seize,  with- 
out any  ostensible  cause,  without  any  crimination,  but  on  the  mere 
declaration  of  the  king's  will,  any  individual  in  the  kingdom.  A  man 
of  the  most  innocent  and  retired  habits  may  be  torn  at  a  moment's 
notice  from  his  fireside,  his  business  destroyed,  his  family  scattered  and 
pauperized,  his  good  name  ruined,  and  his  life  sacrificed  in  some  dun- 
geon by  damp,  chains,  and  sorrow. 

If  he  survive  the  first  miseries  of  his  dungeon,  there  he  may  lie  for 
years,  till  the  spiders  and  snails  grow  familiar  with  him,  till  he  wears  the 
semblance  more  of  a  wild  beast  than  a  man,  and  till  his  mind  is  in- 
flamed into  frenzy,  or  sunk  into  fatuity.  He  may  be  perfectly  guiltless 
of  public  crime,  he  may  be  perfectly  at  a  loss  even  to  conceive  for  what 
offence  he  has  been  undone ;  yet  there  he  must  lie.  He  cannot,  like  the 
Englishman,  demand  a  trial,  where  he  may  confound  his  accusers.  He 
cannot  insist  on  being  either  confronted  with  justice,  or  set  at  liberty. 
The  cruelties  of  thePopish  Inquisition,  originally  borrowed  from  secular 
cruelties,  and  refining  on  them,  have  been  borrowed  back  for  the  use  of 
the  royal  dungeons;  and  how  shall  we  as  Englishmen,  or  as  human  beings, 
wonder  that  men  exposed  to  those  miseries  should  demand  some  consti- 
tutional security  against  them  ? 

It  is  true,  that  in  the  general  classes  of  life  those  cruelties  may  be 
seldom  felt.  So  long  as  the  subject  is  content  to  stay  in  the  mediocrity 
in  which  chance  placed  him  at  first,  so  long  as  he  remains  the  peasant, 
turning  up  the  ground  from  day  to  day,  and  at  last  laying  himself  down 
in  it,  without  a  thought  beyond  the  horse  he  drives,  or  the  sheep  he 
shears ;  so  long  he  will  be  in  all  probability  passed  over  by  power.  But 
if  that  peasant  shall  desire  to  make  the  natural  use  of  his  faculties,  and 
be  something  above  the  clod ;  or  if  he  feel  indignant  at  some  act  of 
oppression,  that  would  be  enough  to  rouse  the  stones  to  mutiny ;  or  if 
he  refuse  to  submit  to  the  insolence  or  the  rapine  of  a  superior,  his 
immunity  is  gone,  from  that  instant.  The  dungeon  opens  for  him,  and 
his  only  escape  from  that  dungeon  is  into  the  grave. 

It  is  true,  that  the  dissipated  nobleman,  the  courtier,  the  whole  race 
who  live  on  the  public  property,  and  who  are  essential  to  the  show  of 
Courts,  may  pass  their  lives  in  security  enough.  But  let  one  of  those 
dare  to  be  something  more  honourable  ;  let  him  think  his  rank,  wealth, 
and  leisure  worse  employed  in  dangling  about  a  levee,  or  dancing  a 
quadrille,  or  robbing  some  dupe  at  a  gaming-table,  than  in  promoting 
any  object  of  public  good,  and  he  is  from  that  moment  a  marked  man  ; 
his  name  is  set  down  in  the  jailor's  list,  and  at  length  he  vanishes  to  some 
fortress,  where  he  may  meditate  on  the  hazards  of  being  wiser  and  better 
than  the  fools  and  profligates  of  his  generation.  How  many  hundred  or 
thousand  Germans,  Spaniards,  Portuguese,  and  Italians  are  at  this  hour 
groaning  in  the  dungeons  of  their  kings  !  Not  one  of  them  is  brought 
to  trial,  nor  intended  to  be  brought  to  trial.  There  they  must  lie  till 
death,  a  revolution,  or  the  day  of  judgment ! 

We  will  not  say,  because  we  yet  have  not  the  ex-premier's  own  decla- 
ration on  the  subject,  that  he  was  a  sharer  in  that  fearful  modification 
of  the  Holy  Alliance,  which  is  called  the  Metternich  league ;  and  whose 
object  is  notoriously  to  combine  all  monarchs  against  all  constitutional 


The  Wellington  and  the  Grey  Administrations.  629 

attempts  on  the  part  of  nations.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
Polignac  ministry  were  in  the  league,  that  the  famous  "  ordinances" 
were  the  commencement  of  an  open  declaration  of  the  Metternich 
system,  and  that  the  late  French  cabinet  had  only  waited  the  success  of 
the  Catholic  question  in  England  to  make  that  declaration.  The  prin- 
ciples of  the  league  are  popish.  Rome  is  at  its  head,  and  its  politics 
are  all  constructed  with  a  reference  to  the  principle  of  keeping  the 
people  in  awe  by  the  priesthood.  We  must  leave  the  public  to  decide 
for  itself  how  far  the  concessions  which  placed  the  subject  of  the  Pope 
on  an  equality  with  the  subject  of  the  King  of  England,  were  influenced 
by  views  beyond  the  borders  of  England.  But  this  we  know,  that  the 
eyes  of  all  the  popish  courts  of  Europe  were  fixed  on  the  progress  of 
the  measure,  and  that  immediately  on  its  completion  Prince  Polignac, 
who  had  been  stationed  here  as  Ambassador  to  inspect  that  progress,  set 
off  for  Paris,  where  he  was  made  Prime  Minister,  and  where,  from  that 
moment,  preparations  were  set  on  foot  for  abolishing  the  French  consti- 
tution, and  bringing  the  principles  of  the  Metternich  league  into  full 
activity. 

But  let  him  be  tried  on  his  domestic  polity.  What  class  of  the  British 
empire  has  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  ministry,  unlimited  as  it  was  for  all 
his  purposes,  brought  over  to  his  side?  Has  it  won  the  Irish  Pro- 
testants? They  load  him  with  the  heaviest  hatred. — Has  it  won  the 
Irish  Catholics  ?  They  libel  him  by  the  hour,  scoff  at  his  conciliation, 
and  charge  him  with  having  given  up  to  fear,  what  he  would  never  have 
given  up  to  policy. — How  stands  he  with  the  Commercial  Body  of  Eng- 
land? They  point  to  their  decaying  trade. — How  stands  he  with  the 
Agriculturists  ?  They  point  to  their  burning  farm-yards. — How  is  he 
received  by  the  Country  ?  They  have  thrown  out  all  his  adherents  at 
the  elections. — How  by  London  ?  Dares  he  ride  through  its  streets  to 
Guildhall  even  under  the  protection  of  his  own  police  ? — How  stands  he 
with  the  Tories?  They  shrink  from  him. — How  with  the  Whigs? 
They  have  turned  him  out.  And  thus  flourishes  in  public  opinion  the 
Wellington  Administration  ! 

Religious  men  remark  that  from  the  time  of  his  forcing  the  Catholic 
Bill  on  the  country,  all  the  minister  s  measures  have  been  luckless  ;  that 
he  has  stumbled  on  from  blunder  to  blunder ;  that  the  country  has  been 
going  down ;  and  that  the  first  feeling  of  national  joy  has  been  in  the 
utter  rejection  of  the  military  minister  ! 

Europe  is  still  in  confusion,  but  we  have  to  rejoice  that  we  have  got 
rid  of  a  man  in  whom  we  had  no  trust,  and  who,  to  the  most  hazardous 
passion  for  engrossing  all  power,  added  its  most  disastrous  and  luck- 
less employment.  We  must  have  no  more  soldiers  roughly  attempting 
to  be  statesmen,  and  bringing  the  principles  of  the  Barrack  into  the 
Council-room  ! 

Of  the  men  who  have  succeeded  the  pro-papist  cabinet,  we  can  yet 
say  nothing.  We  have  no  love  for  Whiggism.  But  the  Tories  of  the 
last  administration  so  utterly  disgraced  the  name,  that  we  defy  any 
Whig  in  existence  to  do  worse.  At  least  the  public  will  gain  something 
by  the  change ;  there  must  be  some  retrenchment,  there  must  be  also 
some  purification  of  parliament.  From  their  predecessors  nothing  was 
to  be  expected  but  additional  burthens,  foreign  disgraces,  and  domestic 
dangers.  Lord  Grey  is  luckily  no  Field-Marshal,  nor  Lord  Goderich  a 
Quarter-Master-General!  We  shall  have  probably  less  military  arrogance, 


630  Aphorisms  on  Man.  [DEC. 

and  a  somewhat  diminished  military  expenditure.  And  we  think  that 
Lord  Grey  will  not  "  advise  "  the  king  to  dread  the  sight  of  a  Guildhall 
dinner,  for  fear  of  being  poisoned  there,  or  murdered  on  his  way  home  ; 
we  think  that  Temple  Bar  will  be  restored  to  its  old  peaceful  name,  and 
that  the  alHermen  may  go  to  their  beds  without  a  pitched  battle.  We 
will  go  further,  and  say  that,  in  whatever  way  the  present  administra- 
tion may  conduct  itself,  it  cannot  be  more  unpopular  than  the  preced- 
ing one,  that  it  cannot  distinguish  itself  by  a  more  thorough  disap- 
pointment of  the  national  wishes,  nor  go  out  more  thickly  covered 
with  the  national  ridicule. 


APHORISMS    ON    MAN,    BY    THE    LATE    WILLIAM    HA7LITT. 
[Continued  from  last  Month.} 

XXXVII. 

"  To  be  direct  and  honest  is  not  safe,"  says  lago.  Shakspeare  has 
here  defined  the  nature  of  honesty,  which  seems  to  consist  in  the  absence 
of  any  indirect  or  sinister  bias.  The  honest  man  looks  at  and  decides 
upon  an  object  as  it  is  in  itself,  without  a  view  to  consequences,  and  as  if 
he  himself  were  entirely  out  of  the  question  ;  the  prudent  man  considers 
only  what  others  will  think  of  it;  the  knave,  how  he  can  turn  it  to  his 
own  advantage  or  another's  detriment,  which  he  likes  better.  His 
straight-forward  simplicity  of  character  is  the  reverse  of  what  is  under- 
stood by  the  phrase,  a  man  of  the  world  :  an  honest  man  is  independent 
of  and  abstracted  from  material  ties.  This  character  is  owing  chiefly  to 
strong  natural  feeling  and  a  love  of  right,  partly  to  pride  and  obstinacy, 
and  a  want  of  discursiveness  of  imagination.  It  is  not  well  to  be  too 
witty  or  too  wise.  In  many  circles  (not  including  the  night-cellar  or  a 
mess-table)  a  clever  fellow  means  a  rogue.  According  to  the  French 
proverb,  "  Tout  homme  rejlcchi  est  mechant."  Your  honest  man  often  is, 
and  is  always  set  down  as  no  better  than  an  ass. 

XXXVIII. 

A  person  who  does  not  tell  lies  will  not  believe  that  others  tell  them. 
From  old  habit,  he  cannot  break  the  connection  between  words  and 
things.  This  is  to  labour  under  a  great  disadvantage  in  his  transactions 
with  men  of  the  world :  it  is  playing  against  sharpers  with  loaded  dice. 
The  secret  of  plausibility  and  success  is  point-blanc  lying.  The  advan- 
tage which  men  of  business  have  over  the  dreamers  and  sleep-walkers 
is  not  in  knowing  the  exact  state  of  a  case,  but  in  telling  you  with  a 
grave  face  what  it  is  not,  to  suit  their  own  purposes.  This  is  one 
obvious  reason  why  students  and  book-worms  are  so  often  reduced  to 
their  last  legs.  Education  (which  is  a  study  and  discipline  of  abstract 
truth)  is  a  diversion  to  the  instinct  of  lying  and  a  bar  to  fortune. 

XXXIX. 

Those  who  get  their  money  as  wits,  spend  it  like  fools. 

XL. 

It  is  not  true  that  authors,  artists,  £c.,  are  uniformly  ill-paid  ;  they  are 
often  improvident,  and  look  upon  an  income  as  an  estate.  A  literary 


1830.]  Aphorism*  m  Man.  631 

man  who  has  made  even  five  or  six  hundred  a-year  for  a  length  of  time 
has  only  himself  to  blame  if  he  has  none  of  it  left  (a  tradesman  with  the 
same  annual  profits  would  have  been  rich  or  independent)  ;  an  artist 
who  breaks  for  ten  thousand  pounds  cannot  surely  lament  the  want  of 
patronage.  A  sieve  might  as  well  petition  against  a  dry  season.  Persons 
of  talent  and  reputation  do  not  make  money,  because  they  do  not  keep 
it ;  and  they  do  not  keep  it,  because  they  do  not  care  about  it  till  they 
feel  the  want  of  it — and  then  the  public  stop  payment.  The  prudent  and 
careful,  even  among  players,  lay  by  fortunes. 

XLI. 

In  general,  however,  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  those  should  grow 
rich  by  a  special  Providence,  whose  first  and  last  object  is  by  every 
means  and  at  every  sacrifice  to  grow  famous.  Vanity  and  avarice  have 
different  goals  and  travel  diiferent  roads.  The  man  of  genius  produces 
that  which  others  admire  :  the  man  of  business  that  which  they  will  buy. 
If  the  poet  is  delighted  with  the  ideas  of  certain  things,  the  reader  is 
equally  satisfied  with  the  idea  of  them  too.  The  man  of  genius  does 
that  which  no  one  else  but  himself  can  do :  the  man  of  business  gets  his 
wealth  from  the  joint  mechanical  drudgery  of  all  whom  he  has  the 
means  to  employ.  Trade  is  the  Briareus  that  works  with  a  hundred 
hands.  A  popular  author  grew  rich,  because  he  seemed  to  have  a  hun- 
dred hands  to  write  with :  but  he  wanted  another  hand  to  say  to  his 
well-got  gains,  "  Come,  let  me  clutch  thee."  Nollekens  made  a  fortune 
(how  he  saved  it  we  know)  by  having  blocks  of  marble  to  turn  into 
sharp-looking  busts  (which  required  a  capital),  and  by  hiring  a  number 
of  people  to  hack  and  hew  them  into  shape.  Sir  Joshua  made  more 
money  than  West  or  Barry,  partly  because  he  was  a  better  painter, 
partly  because  gentlemen  like  their  own  portraits  better  than  those  of 
prophet  or  apostle,  saint  or  hero.  What  the  individual  wants,  he  will 
pay  the  highest  price  for :  what  is  done  for  the  public  the  State  must 
pay  for.  How  if  they  will  not  ?  The  historical  painter  cannot  make 
them ;  and  if  he  persists  in  the  attempt,  must  be  contented  to  fall  a 
martyr  to  it.  It  is  some  glory  to  fail  in  great  designs ;  and  some 
punishment  is  due  to  having  rashly  or  presumptuously  embarked  in 
them. 

XLII. 

It  is  some  comfort  to  starve  on  a  name  :  it  is  something  to  be  a  poor 
gentleman  ;  and  your  man  of  letters  "  writes  himself  armigero,  in  any 
bond,  warrant,  or  quittance."  In  fixing  on  a  profession  for  a  child,  it  is 
a  consideration  not  to  place  him  in  one  in  which  he  may  not  be  thought 
good  enough  to  sit  down  in  any  company.  Miserable  mortals  that  we 
are  !  If  you  make  a  lawyer  of  him,  he  may  become  Lord  Chancellor ; 
and  then  all  his  posterity  are  lords.  How  cheap  and  yet  acceptable  a 
thing  is  nobility  in  this  country  !  It  does  not  date  from  Adam  or  the 
conquest.  We  need  not  laugh  at  Buonaparte's  mushroom  peers,  who 
were  something  like  Charlemagne's  or  the  knights  of  King  Arthur's 
round  table. 

XLIII. 

We  talk  of  the  march  of  intellect,  as  if  it  only  unfolded  the  know- 
ledge of  good :  the  knowledge  of  evil,  which  communicates  with  twenty 


(53:2  Aphorisms  on  Man.  [[DEC. 

times  the  rapidity,  is  never  once  hinted  at.  Eve's  apple,  the  torch  of 
Prometheus,  anil  Pandora's  box,  are  discarded  as  childish  fables  by  our 
wise  moderns. 

XLIV. 

As  I  write  this,  I  hear  out  of  the  window  a  man  beating  his  wife  and 
calling  her  names.  Is  this  what  is  meant  by  good-nature  and  domestic 
comfort  ?  Or  is  it  that  we  have  so  little  of  these,  ordinarily  speaking, 
that  we  are  astonished  at  the  smallest  instances  of  them ;  and  have  never 
done  lauding  ourselves  for  the  exclusive  possession  of  them  ? 

XLV. 

A  man  should  never  marry  beneath  his  own  rank  in  life — -for  love.  1^ 
shews  goodness  of  heart,  but  want  of  consideration;  and  the  very 
generosity  of  purpose  will  defeat  itself.  She  may  please  him  and  be 
every  way  qualified  to  make  him  happy :  but  what  will  others  think  ? 
Can  he  with  equal  certainty  of  the  issue  introduce  her  to  his  friends  and 
family  ?  If  not,,  nothing  is  done  ;  for  marriage  is  an  artificial  institu- 
tion, and  a  wife  a  part  of  the  machinery  of  society.  We  are  not  in  a 
state  of  nature,  to  be  quite  free  and  unshackled  to  follow  our  spontaneous 
impulses.  Nothing  can  reconcile  the  difficulty  but  a  woman's  being  a 
paragon  of  wit  or  beauty  ;  but  every  man  fancies  his  Dulcinea  a  paragon 
of  wit  or  beauty.  Without  this,  he  will  only  (with  the  best  intentions  in 
the  world)  have  entailed  chagrin  and  mortification  both  on  himself  and 
her  j  and  she  will  be  as  much  excluded  from  society  as  if  he  had  made 
her  his  mistress  instead  of  his  wife.  She  must  either  mope  at  home,  or 
tie  him  to  her  apron-string ;  and  he  will  drag  a  clog  and  a  load  through 
life,  if  he  be  not  saddled  with  a  scold  and  a  tyrant  to  boot. 

XL  VI. 

I  believe  in  the  theoretical  benevolence,  and  practical  malignity  of 
man. 

XL  VII. 

We  pity  those  who  lived  three  hundred  years  ago,  as  if  the  world  was 
hardly  then  awake,  and  they  were  condemned  to  feel  their  way  and  drag 
out  an  inanimate  existence  in  the  obscure  dawn  of  manners  and  civiliza- 
tion :  we  forsooth  are  at  the  meridian,  and  the  ages  that  are  to  follow  are 
dark  night.  But  if  there  were  any  truth  in  our  theory,  we  should  be  as 
much  behind-hand  and  objects  of  scorn  to  those  who  are  to  come  after 
us,  as  we  have  a  fancied  advantage  over  those  that  have  preceded  us. 
Supposing  it  to  be  a  misfortune  to  have  lived  in  the  age  of  Raphael  or 
Virgil,  it  would  be  desirable  (if  it  were  possible)  still  to  postpone  the 
period  of  our  existence  sine  die  :  for  the  value  of  time  must  mount  up, 
as  it  proceeds,  through  the  positive,  comparative,  and  superlative 
degrees.  Common  sense  with  a  little  reflection  will  teach  us,  that  one 
age  is  as  good  as  another ;  that  in  familiar  phrase  we  cannot  have  our 
cake  and  eat  it ;  and  that  there  is  no  time  like  the  time  present,  whether 
in  the  first,  the  tenth  or  the  twentieth  century. 


1830.]  [    633    ] 

THE    DEMON    SHIP — THE    PIRATE    OF    THE    MEDITERRANEAN. 

IT  has  of  late  been  much  the  fashion  with  writers  of  celebrity  to 
choose  Pirates  for  their  heroes,  insomuch  that  many  of  our  youth,  espe- 
cially of  the  female  sex,  attach  an  idea  of  romantic  grandeur  to  the  very 
word  pirate ;  and  I  once  knew  a  young  lady  who,  during  a  sail  up  the 
Mediterranean,  was  kept  in  a  state  of  delirious  excitement  by  the  expec- 
tation, I  mean  the  hope,  of  our  all  being  eventually  captured  by  a  Greek 
corsair.  Not  one,  however,  of  these  fascinating  marauders  made  his 
appearance,  and  we  were  doomed,  in  visitation,  I  suppose,  for  our  sins, 
to  have  an  unmolested  passage,  and  a  safe  disembarkation.  To  console 
my  young  friend  under  her  acute  disappointment,  I  shewed  her  a  little 
MS.  which  had  been  bequeathed  to  me  by  a  relative,  a  Colonel  Fran- 
cillon,  who  died  before  pirates  came  into  fashion,  and  who  would  as 
soon  have  thought  of  seeking  a  hero  in  the  Newgate  Calendar,  among 
footpads  or  housebreakers,  as  among  the  daring  robbers  of  the  ocean. 
It  became  evident  that  the  young  lady  was  sufficiently  struck  by  the 
contents  of  the  manuscript  to  be  perfectly  willing  to  take  another  sail 
over  the  Mediterranean,  in  a  quiet  way,  without  the  interference  of  any 
robber  chief  to  give  piquance  to  the  voyage.  This  calmed  admiration 
of  my  young  friend  for  gentlemen-thieves,  induced  me  to  afford  the 
colonel's  story  an  opportunity  for  more  enlarged  conversion  of  robber- 
lovers.  I  therefore  give  it  to  society  with  all  its  imperfections  on  its 
head.  It  will  be  seen  ere  the  conclusion  of  the  tale,  that  no  one  can 
better  than  my  self  vouch  for  the  truth  of  the  circumstances  there  brought 
together ;  and  it  would  be  too  trite  to  remark,  that  events  often  occur 
in  real  life  which  in  fiction  would  be  regarded  as  gross  violations  of  all 
probability. 

I  WAS  the  only  son  of  a  widowed  mother,  who,  though  far  from 
affluent,  was  not  pennyless; — you  will  naturally  suppose,  therefore, 
I  was  a  most  troublesome,  disagreeable,  spoiled  child.  Such  I 
might  have  been,  but  for  the  continual  drawback  on  all  my  early 
gratifications,  which  my  maternal  home  presented  in  the  shape  of  an 
old  dowager  countess,  a  forty-ninth  cousin  of  my  mother's.  This  lady 
thought  that  she  handsomely  purchased  a  residence  in  our  family  by 
her  gracious  acknowledgment  of  this  semi-hundredth  degree  of  consan- 
guinity. I  believe  she  had  been  banished  from  the  mansion  of  her 
eldest  son  because  her  talents  for  reproof,  and  his  ideas  of  his  own 
impeccability,  in  nowise  harmonized  to  produce  domestic  felicity.  At 
all  events,  she  became  an  omnipresent  Marplot  on  mine.  Whatever 
I  was  doing,  wherever  I  was  going,  there  was  she  reproving,  rebuking, 
exhorting,  and  all  to  save  me  from  idling,  or  drowning,  or  quarrelling,, 
or  straying,  or  a  hundred  etceteras.  I  grew  up,  went  to  school,  to 
college — finally,  into  the  army,  and  with  it  to  Ireland ;  and  had  the  sa- 
tisfaction, at  five-and-twenty,  to  hear  the  dowager  say  I  was  good  for 
nothing.  She  was  of  a  somewhat  malicious  disposition,  and  perhaps  I 
did  not  well  to  make  her  my  enemy.  At  this  time  I  had  the  offer  of  a 
good  military  appointment  to  India,  and  yet  I  hesitated  to  accept  it. 
There  was  in  my  native  village  a  retired  Scotch  officer,  for  whom  I  had 
conceived  a  strong  attachment.  His  daughter  I  had  known  and  loved 
from  childhood,  and  when  this  gave  place  to  womanhood,  my  affection 
changed  in  kind  while  it  strengthened  in  degree.  Margaret  Cameron 

M.M.  New  Series.— Vo*.  X,  No.  60.  4  L 


634  The  Demon  Ship.  EDEC. 

was  at  this  period  seventeen,  and,  consequently,  eight  years  my  junior. 
She  was  young,  beautiful,  and  spoiled  by  a  doating  parent — yet  I  saw 
in  her  a  fine  natural  disposition,  and  the  seeds  of  many  noble  qualities. 
To  both  father  and  daughter  I  openly  unfolded  my  affection.  Captain 
Cameron,  naturally,  pleaded  the  youth  of  his  daughter.  Margaret 
laughed  at  the  idea  of  my  even  entertaining  a  thought  of  her,  told  me  I 
was  two  thousand  years  her  senior,  and  declared  she  would  as  soon 
think  of  marrying  an  elder  brother,  or  even  her  father,  as  myself.  I 
listened  to  the  assertions  of  Margaret  with  profound  silence,  scorned  to 
whine  and  plead  my  cause,  bowed  with  an  air  of  haughty  resignation, 
and  left  her. 

When  next  I  saw  Margaret  I  was  in  a  travelling  dress  at  her  father's 
residence.  I  found  her  alone  in  the  garden,  occupied  in  watering  her 
flowers.  "  I  am  come,  Margaret,"  I  said,  a  to  bid  you  farewell." — 
"  Why,  where  are  you  going  ?" — "  To  London,  to  sea,  to  India." — 
"  Nonsense  !" — "  You  always  think  there  is  nonsense  in  truth ;  every 
thing  that  is  serious  to  others  is  a  jest  to  you." — "  Complimentary  this 
morning." — "  Adieu,  Margaret,  may  you  retain  through  life  the  same 
heartlessness  of  disposition.  It  will  preserve  you  from  many  a  pang 
that  might  reach  a  more  sensitive  bosom." — "  You  do  my  strength  of 
mind  infinite  honour.  Every  girl  of  seventeen  can  be  sentimental,  but 
there  are  few  stoics  in  their  teens.  I  love  to  be  coldly  great.  You 
charm  me." — "  If  heartlessness  and  mental  superiority  are  with  you 
synonymes,"  I  said,  with  gravity,  "  count  yourself,  Miss  Cameron,  at 
the  very  acme  of  intellectual  greatness,  since  you  can  take  leave  of  one 
of  your  earliest  friends  with  such  easy  indifference." — "  Pooh !  pooh  ! 
I  know  you  are  not  really  going.  This  voyage  to  India  is  one  of  your 
favourite  threats  in  your  dignified  moments.  I  think,  if  I  mistake  not, 
this  is  about  the  twentieth  time  it  has  been  made.  And  for  early 
friends,  and  so  forth,  you  have  contrived  to  live  within  a  few  hundred 
feet  of  them,  without  coming  in  their  sight  for  the  last  month,  so  they 
cannot  be  so  very  dear/'  This  was  said  in  a  slight  tone  of  pique. — 
"  Listen  to  me,  Margaret/'  said  I,  with  a  grave,  and,  as  I  think,  manly 
dignity  of  bearing  ;  "  I  offered  you  the  honest  and  ardent,  though  worth- 
less gift  of  a  heart,  whose  best  affections  (despite  your  not  unmarked 
defects  of  character)  you  entirely  possessed.  I  am  not  coxcomb  enough 
to  suppose  that  I  can  at  pleasure  storm  the  affections  of  any  woman  ; 
but  I  am  man  enough  to  expect  that  they  should  be  denied  me  with 
some  reference  to  the  delicate  respect  due  to  mine.  But  you  are,  of 
course,  at  full  liberty  to  choose  your  own  mode  of  rejecting  your  suitors  ; 
only,  as  one  who  still  views  you  as  a  friend,  I  would  that  that  manner 
shewed  more  of  good  womanly  feeling,  and  less  of  conscious  female 
power.  I  am  aware,  Margaret,  that  this  is  not  the  general  language  of 
lovers  ;  perhaps  if  it  were,  woman  might  hold  her  power  more  grace- 
fully, and  even  Margaret  Cameron's  heart  would  have  more  of  greatness 
and  generosity  than  it  now  possesses."  While  I  spoke,  Margaret  turned 
away  her  lovely  face,  and  I  saw  that  her  very  neck  was  suffused.  I 
began  to  think  I  had  been  harsh  with  her,  to  remember  that  she  was 
young,  and  that  we  were  about  to  part  perhaps  for  ever.  I  took  her 
hand,  assured  her  that  the  journey  I  had  announced  was  no  lover's 
ruse,  and  that  I  was  really  on  the  point  of  quitting  my  native  land. — 
"  And  now,  Margaret,"  I  said,  "  farewell — you  will  scarce  find  in  life  a 
more  devoted  friend — a  more  ardent  desirer  of  your  happiness  than  him 


1830.]  The  Demon  Ship,  635 

you  have  driven  from  your  side."  I  stretched  out  my  hand  to  Margaret 
for  a  friendly  farewell  clasp.  But  she  held  not  out  her's  in  return ;  she 
spoke  not  a  word  of  adieu.  I  turned  an  indignant  countenance  towards 
her,  and,  to  my  unutterable  surprise,  beheld  my  beautiful  young  friend 
in  a  swoon.  Now  this  to  the  cold  reader  sounds  the  very  common-place 
of  sickly  romance,  but  it  threw  me  into  a  confusion  and  agitation  inex- 
pressible. And  was  this  the  being  I  had  accused  of  want  of  feeling ! 
At  that  moment  I  felt  that  the  world  held  nothing  so  dear  to  me  as  Mar- 
garet— I  felt,  better  still,  that  I  was  dear  to  her.  I  will  not  go  over  the 
ten-thousand-times-trodden  ground  of  lovers'  explanations,  and  self- 
reproaches,  and  betrothals —we  left  the  garden  solemnly  plighted  to 
each  other.  But  I  pass  briefly  over  this  portion  of  my  history.  I 
was  condemned,  by  the  will  of  Captain  Cameron,  and  by  the  necessity 
of  obtaining  some  professional  promotion,  to  spend  a  few  years  in  India 
before  I  could  receive  the  hand  of  Margaret. 

I  reached  my  Asiatic  destination — long  and  anxiously  looked  for 
European  letters — took  up  one  day  by  accident  an  English  paper,  and 
there  read — ((  Died,  at  the  house  of  Captain  Cameron,  in  the  village  of 

A ,    Miss  Margaret    Cameron,    aged   eighteen."     I   will   not   here 

dwell  on  my  feelings.  I  wrote  a  letter  of  despair  to  Captain  Cameron, 
informing  him  of  the  paragraph  I  had  read,  imploring  him,  for  the  love 
of  mercy,  if  possible,  to  contradict  it,  and  declaring  that  my  future  path 
in  life  now  lay  stretched  before  me  like  one  wild  waste.  The  Countess 
of  Falcondale  answered  my  epistle  by  a  deep,  black-margined  letter, 
with  a  sable  seal  as  large  as  a  saucer.  My  sole  parent  was  no  more ; — 
for  Captain  Cameron — he  had  been  seized  by  a  paralytic  affection  in 
consequence  of  the  shock  his  feelings  had  sustained.  His  circumstances 
were  in  irreparable  disorder,  and  the  Countess  was  residing  with  him 
in  order,  at  his  earnest  request,  to  manage  all  his  affairs.  I  remitted 
handsomely  but  delicately  to  my  old  friend. 

The  appearance  of  my  name,  about  five  years  afterwards,  among  the 
"  Marriages"  in  the  Calcutta  Gazette,  was  followed  by  successive  an- 
nouncements among  the  "  Births  and  Deaths,"  in  the  same  compendious 
record  of  life's  changes.  My  wife  perished  of  a  malignant  fever,  and  two 
infant  children  speedily  followed  her.  I  set  out,  to  return  over-land  to 
my  native  country,  a  sober,  steady,  and  partially  grey-haired  colonel  of 
thirty-six.  My  military  career  had  been  as  brilliant  as  my  domestic 
path  had  been  clouded.  The  habitual  complexion  of  my  mind,  how- 
ever, was  gravity — a  gravity  which  extended  itself  to  my  countenance, 
and  there  assumed  even  a  shade  of  melancholy.  Yet  I  was  a  disap- 
pointed, not  discontented,  man ;  and  my  character  had,  I  trust,  under* 
gone  some  changes  for  the  better.  I  arrived  at  a  port  of  the  Levant, 
and  thence  took  ship  for  Malta,  where  I  landed  in  safety. 

At  this  period  the  Mediterranean  traders  were  kept  in  a  state  of  peri 
petual  alarm  by  the  celebrated  "  DEMON  SHIP."  Though  distinguished 
by  the  same  attractive  title,  she  in  nowise  resembled  the  phantom  terror 
of  the  African  Cape.  She  was  described  as  a  powerful  vessel,  manned 
by  a  desperate  flesh- and-blood  crew,  whose  rapacity  triumphed  over  all 
fear  of  danger,  and  whose  cruelty  forbade  all  hope  of  mercy.  Yet, 
though  she  was  neither  "  built"  of  air  nor  "  manned"  by  demons,  her 
feats  had  been  so  wonderful,  that  there  was  at  length  no  other  rational 
mode  of  accounting  for  them  than  by  tracing  them  to  supernatural,  and 

4  L  2 


636  The  Demon  Ship.  [DEC. 

consequently  demoniacal,  agency.  She  had  sailed  through  fleets  undis- 
covered ;  she  had  escaped  from  the  fastest  pursuers ;  she  had  overtaken 
the  swiftest  fugitives  ;  she  had  appeared  where  she  was  not  expected, 
and  disappeared  when  even  her  very  latitude  and  longitude  seemed 
calculable.  One  time,  when  she  was  deemed  the  scourge  of  the  Levant, 
she  would  fall  on  some  secure  and  happy  trading  captain,  whose  careless 
gaze  fell  on  the  rock  of  Gibraltar  j  at  another,  when  Spanish  cruizers  were 
confidently  preparing  for  her  capture  off  their  own  shores,  her  crew 
were  glutting  their  avarice,  and  gratifying  their  cruelty  by  seizing  the 
goods,  and  sinking  the  vessels  of  the  Smyrna  traders.  In  short,  it 
seemed  as  if  ubiquity  were  an  attribute  of  the  Demon  Ship.  Her  fearful 
title  had  been  first  given  by  those  who  dreaded  to  become  her  victims ; 
but  she  seemed  not  ill  pleased  by  the  appalling  epithet ;  and  shortly,  as 
if  in  audacious  adoption  of  the  name  she  had  acquired,  shewed  the  word 
DEMON  in  flaming  letters  on  her  stern.  Some  mariners  went  so  far 
as  to  say  that  a  smell  of  brimstone,  and  a  track  of  phosphoric  light 
marked  for  miles  the  pathway  of  her  keel  in  the  waves.  Others  declared 
that  she  had  the  power,  through  her  evil  agents,  of  raising  such  a  strange, 
dense,  and  portentous  mist  in  the  atmosphere,  as  prevented  her  victims 
from  descrying  her  approach  until  they  fell,  as  it  were,  into  her  very 
jaws.  To  capture  her  seemed  impossible ;  she  ever  mastered  her  equals, 
and  eluded  her  superiors.  Innumerable  were  the  vessels  that  had  left 
different  ports  in  the  Mediterranean  to  disappear  for  ever.  It  seemed 
the  cruel  practice  of  the  Demon  to  sink  her  victims  in  their  own  vessels. 

The  Demon  Ship  was  talked  of  from  the  ports  of  the  Levant  to  Gib- 
raltar ;  and  no  vessel  held  herself  in  secure  waters  until  she  had  passed 
the  Straits.  Of  course  such  a  pest  to  these  seas  was  not  to  be  quietly 
suffered,  so  after  having  allowed  her  her  full  career  for  a  somewhat 
unaccountable  time,  several  governments  began  to  think  of  preparing  to 
put  her  down.  To  the  surprise,  however,  of  all,  she  seemed  suddenly  to 
disappear  from  the  Mediterranean.  Some  said  that  her  crew,  having 
sold  themselves  to  the  father  of  all  evil  for  a  certain  length  of  time,  and 
the  period  having  probably  expired,  the  desperadoes  were  now  gone  to 
their  own  place,  and  the  seas  would  consequently  be  clear  again.  Others 
deemed  that  the  Demon  Ship  had  only  retired  for  some  deep  purpose, 
and  would  shortly  reappear  with  more  fearful  power. 

Most  of  the  trading  vessels  then  about  to  quit  the  port  of  Valetta,  had 
requested,  and  obtained,  convoy  from  a  British  frigate  and  sloop  of  war, 
bound  to  Gibraltar  and  thence  to  England.  So  eager  were  all  passen- 
gers to  sail  under  such  protection,  that  I  had  some  difficulty  in  obtaining 
a  berth  in  any  of  the  holes  and  corners  of  the  various  fine  fast-sailing 
copper-bottomed  brigs,  whose  cards  offered  such  "  excellent  accommo- 
dations for  passengers."  At  length  I  went  on  board  the  "  Elizabeth 
Downs,"  a  large  three-masted  British  vessel,  whose  size  made  the  sur- 
rounding brigs  dwindle  into  insignificance,  and  whose  fresh-painted 
sides  seemed  to  foreshew  the  cleanliness  and  comfort  that  would  be 
found  within.  One  little  hen-pen  of  a  cabin  on  deck  alone  remained  at 
the  captain's  disposal.  However,  I  was  fond  of  a  cabin  on  deck,  and 
paid  half  my  passage-money  to  the  civil  little  captain,  who  testified  much 
regret  that  he  could  not  offer  me  the  "  freedom  of  the  quarter-deck" 
(such  was  his  expression),  as  the  whole  stern  end  of  the  vessel  had  been 
taken  by  an  English  lady  of  quality  who  wished  for  privacy.  He  added, 
with  a  becomingly  awe-struck  manner,  that  she  was  a  dowager  countess 


1830.]  The  Demon  Ship.  637 

"  I  hate  dowager  countesses/'  said  I,  irreverently — "  what  is  the  name  of 
your  passenger  ?" — "  Passenger  !" — "  Well — countess — what  is  the  title 
of  your  countess?" — "  The  Countess  of  Falcondale."— "  What/'  thought  I, 
"  cannot  I  even  come  as  near  to  my  former  home  as  Malta  without  again 
finding  myself  under  her  influence  ?  My  dear  fellow,  give  me  back  my 
passage-money,  or  accept  it  as  a  present  at  my  hands,  for  I  sail  not  with 
you/'  said  I.  But  a  man  at  thirty-six  will  hardly  sacrifice  his  personal 
convenience  to  the  whimsies  of  twenty-five ;  so  I  stood  to  my  bargain, 
determined  to  keep  myself  as  much  as  possible  from  the  knowledge  of 
my  old  tormentor.  Conscious  of  my  altered  personal  appearance,  I 
resolved  to  travel  charmingly  incog.,  and  carelessly  assumed  the  name 
and  title  of  Captain  Lyon,  which  had  been  familiar  to  me  in  my  child- 
hood, as  belonging,  I  believe,  to  a  friend  of  Captain  Cameron. 

It  was  the  month  of  June,  and  the  weather,  though  clear,  was 
oppressively  hot.  There  was  so  little  wind  stirring  after  we  set  sail, 
that  for  several  days  we  made  scarcely  any  way,  under  all  the  sail  we 
could  carry.  I  had  no  mind  the  first  night  to  encoffin  myself  in  my 
berth.  I  therefore,  comfortably  enough,  stretched  my  limbs  on  a  long 
seat  which  joined  the  steps  of  the  quarter-deck.  I  was  now  then  really 
on  my  way  to  my  native  shores,  and  should  not  step  from  the  vessel  in 
which  I  sailed  until  I  trod  the  land  of  my  fathers  !  Naturally  enough, 
my  thoughts  turned  to  former  days  and  old  faces.  From  time  to  time 
these  thoughts  half  sunk  into  dreams,  from  which  I  repeatedly  awoke, 
and  as  often  dozed  off  again.  At  length  my  memory,  and  consequently 
my  dreams,  took  the  shape  of  Margaret  Cameron.  The  joyous  laugh  of 
youth  seemed  to  ring  in  my  ears ;  and  when  I  closed  my  eyes,  her 
lovely  bright  countenance  instantly  rose  before  them.  Yet  I  had  the 
inconsistent  conviction  of  a  dreamer  that  she  was  dead,  and  as  my  slum- 
ber deepened,  I  seemed  busied  in  a  pilgrimage  to  her  early  grave.  I 
saw  the  church-yard  of  A — — ,  with  the  yellow  sunlight  streaming  on 
many  a  green  hillock ;  and  there  was  one  solitary  grass  grave  that,  as  if 
by  a  strange  spell,  drew  my  steps,  and  on  an  humble  head-stone  I  read 
the  name  of  "  Margaret  Cameron,  aged  18."  Old  feelings,  that  had 
been  deadened  by  collision  with  the  busy,  heartless  world,  revived  within 
me,  and  I  seemed  to  hang  in  a  suffocating  grief,  that  even  astonished  my- 
self, over  the  untimely  tomb  of  my  first — ay,  my  last — love.  To  my 
unspeakable  emotion  I  heard,  beneath  the  sods,  a  sound  of  sweet  and 
soothing,  but  melancholy  music.  While  I  listened  with  an  attention 
that  apparently  deprived  my  senses  of  their  power^  the  church-yard  and 
grave  disappeared,  and  I  seemed,  by  one  of  those  transitions,  to  which 
the  dreamer  is  so  subject,  to  be  sailing  on  a  lone  and  dismal  sea,  whose 
leaden  and  melancholy  waves  reflected  no  sail  save  that  of  the  vessel 
which  bore  me.  The  heat  became  stifling,  and  my  bosom  oppressed,' 
yet  the  music  still  sounded,  low,  sweet,  and  foreboding  in  my  ear.  A 
soft  and  whitish  mist  seemed  to  brood  over  the  stern  of  the  ship.  Ac- 
cording to  the  apparently-established  laws  of  spiritual  matter  (the  sole- 
cism is  not  so  great  as  it  may  appear),  the  mist  condensed,  then  gra- 
dually assumed  form,  and  I  gazed,  with  outstretched  arms,  on  the  figure 
of  Margaret  Cameron.  But  her  countenance  looked,  in  that  uncertain 
light,  cold  and  pale  as  her  light  and  unearthly  drapery  that  waved  not, 
though  a  mournful  wind  was  sighing  through  the  shrouds  of  our  vessel. 
She  seemed  in  my  vision  as  one  who,  in  quitting  earth,  had  left  not  only 
its  passions  but  its  affections  behind  her ;  and  there  was  something  for- 


6.38  The  Demon  Ship.  [DEC. 

bidding  in  the  wan  indifference  of  that  eye.  Yet  was  her  voice  passing 
sweet,  as  still  its  sad  cadences  fell  on  my  ear,  in  the  words  of  a  ballad  I 
had  once  loved  to  sing  with  her — 

"  The  green  sod  is  no  grave  of  mine, 

The  earth  is  not  my  pillow, 
The  grave  I  lie  in  shall  be  thine, 

Our  winding-sheet — the  billow." 

I  awoke, — yet  for  a  moment  appeared  still  dreaming  ;  for  there,  hover- 
ing over  the  foot  of  my  couch,  I  seemed  still  to  behold  the  form  of 
Margaret  Cameron.  She  was  leaning  on  the  rail  of  the  quarter-deck, 
and  overlooking  my  couch.  I  sat  up,  and  gazed  on  the  objects  around 
me,  in  order  to  recover  my  apparently  deluded  senses.  The  full  moon 
was  in  her  zenith.  A  light  haze,  the  effect  of  the  heat  of  the  preceding 
day,  was  rising  from  the  waters.  The  heat  was  intense,  the  calm  pro- 
found. There  lay  the  different  vessels  of  our  little  squadron,  nought 
seen  save  their  white  sails  in  the  moonlight,  and  nought  heard  save  their 
powerless  flapping,  and  the  restless  plashing  of  the  becalmed  waves, 
only  agitated  by  the  effort  of  our  vessel  to  cleave  them.  Still  the  moon- 
light fell  on  the  white  form  and  pale  countenance  of  Margaret.  I 
started  up.  "  This  is  some  delusion/'  said  I,  "  or  because  one  of  the 
countess's  women  resembles  my  early  idol,  must  I  turn  believer  in 
ghost-stories,  and  adopt  at  thirty-six  what  I  scouted  at  sixteen  ?"  My 
gestures,  and  the  suddenness  of  my  rising,  seemed  to  scare  my  fair 
phantom  ;  and,  in  the  hastiness  of  her  retreat,  she  gave  ample  proof  of 
mortal  fallibility  by  stumbling  over  some  coils  of  cable  that  happened  to 
lie  in  her  way.  The  shock  brought  her  to  her  knees.  I  was  up  the 
steps  in  one  instant ;  seized  an  arm,  and  then  a  hand,  soft,  delicate,  and 
indubitably  of  flesh  and  blood,  and  restored  the  lady  to  her  feet.  She 
thanked  me  in  gentle  tones  that  sent  a  thrill  through  all  my  veins,  and 
made  me  again  half  deem  that  "  the  voice  of  the  dead  was  on  mine  ear." 
A  white  veil  or  shawl  had  fallen  from  her  head  and  shoulders  ;  this  I 
respectfully  replaced,  and  had  thus  an  opportunity  of  proving  to  demon- 
stration that  it  was  made  neither  of  ether,  mist,  or  moonbeams.  I  now 
expressed  my  fears  that  my  sudden  gestures  had  been  the  cause  of  this 
little  accident.  "  I  fear,"  she  replied,  with  the  same  melancholy  music 
of  voice,  "  my  reckless  song  disturbed  your  slumbers."  After  a  few  more 
words  had  passed  between  us,  during  which  I  continued  to  gaze  on  her 
as  if  some  miracle  stood  before  me,  I  ventured  to  ask,  in  a  tone  as  indif- 
ferent as  I  could  assume,  whether  she  claimed  kindred  with  Captain 

Hugh  Cameron,  of  A ?    The  striking  likeness  Avhich  she  bore  to  his 

amiable  and  deceased  daughter  must,  I  observed,  plead  my  apology.  She 
looked  at  me  for  a  moment  with  unutterable  surprise  ;  then  added,  with 
dignity  and  perfect  self-possession,  "  I  have  then,  probably,  the  pleasure 
of  addressing  some  old  acquaintance  of  Captain  Cameron  ?  How  the 
mistake  arose  which  induced  any  one  to  suppose  that  his  child  was  no 
more,  I  confess  myself  at  a  loss  to  imagine.  The  error  is,  however, 
easily  contradicted  in  my  own  person.  I  am  the  daughter  of  Captain 
Cameron ;  and,  after  this  self-introduction,  may,  perhaps,  claim  the 
name  of  my  father's  former  acquaintance."  You  may  be  sure  I  was  in 
no  mood  to  give  it.  I  rushed  to  the  side  of  the  vessel,  and  hanging  over 
it,  gasped  with  an  emotion  which  almost  stopped  respiration.  It  is 
inexpressible  what  a  revulsion  this  strange  discovery  made  in  my  feel- 


1830.]  The  Demon  Ship.  639 

ings.  There  had  been  days — ay,  weeks,  in  which  one  thought  of  Marga- 
ret had  not  disturbed  the  steady  man  of  the  world  in  his  busy  engage- 
ments ;  and  now  she  returned  upon  his  feelings  as  fresh  as  if  only  one 
day  had  elapsed  since  they  vowed  themselves  to  each  other,  and  parted. 
I  felt  that  there  had  been  treachery.  I  became  keenly  sensible  that  I  must 
have  appeared  a  traitor  to  Margaret,  and  hurriedly  resolved  not  to 
declare  my  name  to  her  until  I  had  in  some  way  cleared  my  character. 

I  was  still  sufficiently  a  man  of  the  world  to  have  my  feelings  in  some 
mastery,  and  returned  to  the  side  of  Margaret  with  an  apology  for  indis- 
position, which  in  truth  was  no  subterfuge.  I  verily  believe,  as  the 
vessel  had  given  a  sudden  lurch  at  the  moment  she  discovered  herself, 
and  my  pendant  posture  over  the  ship's  side  might  be  an  attitude  of 
rather  dubious  construction,  she  passed  on  me  the  forgiveness  of  a  sea- 
sick man.  Margaret  added,  with  an  easy  politeness  which  contrasted 
curiously  with  her  former  girlishness,  that  she  presumed  she  had  the 
pleasure  of  addressing  her  fellow-passenger,  Captain  Lyon  ?  She  had 
often,  she  observed,  heard  her  father  mention  his  name,  though  not 
aware  until  this  moment  of  his  identity  with  her  brother-voyager.  I 
was  not  displeased  by  this  illusion,  though  I  thus  found  myself  identified 
with  a  man  twenty  years  my  senior.  As  I  wore  one  of  those  charming 
rural  Livorno  hats,  whose  deep,  green-lined  flaps  form  a  kind  of  um- 
brella to  the  face,  I  became  convinced  that  mine,  in  such  a  light,  was 
effectually  screened  from  observation.  My  voice  too  had,  I  felt,  been 
changed  by  years  and  climate.  I  therefore  remarked,  with  an  effort  at 
ease,  that  I  had  certainly  once  possessed  the  advantage  of  Captain  Ca- 
meron's acquaintance,  but  that  a  lapse  of  many  years  had  separated  me 
from  him  and  his  family.  "  There  was,  however,"  I  remarked,  very 
tremulously,  "  a  Captain,  since  made  Colonel,  Francillon,  in  India,  who 
had  been  informed,  or  rather,  happily  for  her  friends,  misinformed  of 
the  death  of  Miss  Cameron."  Margaret  smiled  incredulously  ;  but  with 
a  dignified  indifference,  which  created  a  strange  feeling  within  me, 
seemed  willing  to  let  the  subject  pass.  Margaret's  spirits  seemed  to  have 
lost  the  buoyancy,  and  her  cheek  the  bloom  of  youth.  But  there  was 
an  elegance,  a  sort  of  melancholy  dignity  in  her  manner,  and  a 
touching  expression  on  her  countenance,  to  which  both  before  had  been 
strangers.  If  she  were  more  beautiful  at  seventeen,  she  was  more 
interesting  at  twenty-eight.  Observing  her  smile,  and  perceiving  that, 
with  another  graceful  acknowledgment  of  my  assistance,  she  was  about 
to  withdraw,  I  grew  desperate,  and  ventured,  with  some  abruptness,  to 
demand  if  she  had  herself  known  Colonel  Francillon  ?  She  answered, 
with  a  self-possession  which  chilled  me,  that  she  had  certainly  in  her 
youth  (such  was  her  expression)  been  acquainted  with  a  Lieutenant 
Francillon,  who  had  since,  she  believed,  been  promoted  in  India,  and 
probably  was  the  officer  of  whom  I  spoke.  "  Perhaps,"  observed  I, 
"  there  it  not  a  man  alive  for  whom  I  feel  a  greater  interest  than  for 
Colonel  Francillon." — ec  He  is  fortunate  in  possessing  so  warm  a  friend," 
said  Margaret,  with  careless  politeness ;  but  I  thought  I  perceived, 
through  this  nonchalance,  a  slight  tone  of  pique,  which  was  less  mortify- 
ing than  her  indifference.  "  I  know  not,"  said  I,  "  anything  which 
causes  such  a  sudden  and  enchantment-like  reversion  of  the  mind  to  past 
scenes  and  feelings,  as  an  unexpected  rencontre  with  those  (or  even  the 
kindred  of  those)  who  were  associated  with  us  in  the  earliest  and  freshest 
days  of  our  being." — "  Nothing,  certainly,"  answered  Margaret,  "  re- 


610  The  Demon  Ship.  [DEC. 

minds  us  so  forcibly  of  the  change  that  has  taken  place  in  our  being 
and  our  feelings." — "  True,"  replied  I;  "yet  for  the  moment  the  change 
itself  seems  annihilated  ;  our  hearts  beat  with  the  same  pulse  that  before 
animated  them,  and  time  seems  to  have  warred  on  their  feelings  in  vain." 
— "  Perhaps  to  have  taught  a  lesson  in  vain,"  said  my  companion.  I 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  added,  rather  diffidently,  "  And  what 
lesson  should  time  teach  us?" — "  It  should  teach  us,"  she  answered,  with 
a  sweet  composure  and  gravity,  "  that  our  heart's  best  and  warmest 
feelings  may  be  wasted  on  that  which  may  disappoint,  and  cannot  satisfy 
them/' — "  I  read  your  lesson  with  delight/'  answered  I,  in  a  tone 
somewhat  sad ;  and  added,  "  the  only  danger  is  lest  we  mistake  the 
coolings  of  time  for  the  conquests  of  principle."  She  seemed  pleased 
by  the  sentiment,  and  by  the  frankness  of  the  caution.  "  It  may  be," 
she  said,  "in  the  power  of  Time  and  Disappointment  to  detach  from  the 
world,  or  at  least  to  produce  a  barren  acknowledgment  of  its  unsatisfac- 
toriness,  but  it  is  beyond  their  unassisted  power  to  attach  the  soul  with  a 
steady  and  practical  love  to  the  only  legitimate,  the  only  rational  source 
of  happiness.  Here  is  the  touch-stone  which  the  self-deceiver  cannot 
stand."  I  was  silent.  There  was  a  delicious  feeling  in  my  bosom  that 
is  quite  indescribable. — "  These,"  at  length  I  said  very  timidly,  "  are 
the  sentiments  of  Colonel  Fraricillon  •  and  since  we  have  been  on  the 
subject  of  old  friends,  I  could  almost  make  up  my  mind  to  give  you  his 
history.  It  really  half  resembles  a  romance.  At  least  it  shews  how  often, 
in  real  life,  circumstances — I  had  almost  said  adventures — arise,  which 
in  fiction  we  should  deride  as  an  insult  to  our  taste,  by  the  violence 
done  to  all  probability.  Come,  shall  I  give  you  the  history  of  your 
former  acquaintance  ?" — ec  Give  me  the  history  !"  said  Margaret,  invo- 
luntarily, and  with  some  emotion — it  seemed  the  emotion  of  indigna- 
tion.— "  Ay,  why  not  ?  I  mean,  of  course,  his  Indian  history  ;  for  of 
that  in  England,  perhaps,  as  your  families  were  acquainted,  you  may 
know  as  much  as  I  can." 

The  self-possession  of  men  of  the  world  generally  increases  in  propor- 
tion to  the  embarrassment  of  those  they  address  ;  yet  I  confess  my  heart 
began  to  beat  quick  and  high  as,  taking  advantage  of  Margaret's  silence, 
I  began  to  tell  my  own  history. — Francillon  had,  I  observed,  arrived  in 
India  animated  in  his  endeavours  to  obtain  fortune  and  preferment  by 
one  of  the  dearest  and  purest  motives  which  can  incite  the  human  bosom. 
Here  Margaret  turned  round  with  a  something  of  dignified  displeasure, 
which  seemed  to  reprobate  this  little  delicate  allusion  to  her  past  his- 
tory. I  proceeded  as  though  I  marked  not  her  emotion. — Francillon 
was,  I  proceeded,  under  an  engagement  to  a  young  and  lovely  compa- 
triot, whose  image  was,  even  too  closely,  the  idol  of  his  bosom,  but 
whose  name,  from  natural  and  sacred  feelings,  had  never  passed  his  lip 
to  human  being.  Here  I  thought  Margaret  seemed  to  breathe  again. 
So  I  told  my  history  simply  and  feelingly,  and  painted  my  grief  on  hear- 
ing of  the  death  of  Margaret  with  such  depth  of  colouring,  that  I  had 
well  nigh  identified  the  narrator  with  the  subject  of  his  biography.  I 
am  sure  my  companion  was  moved  and  surprised ;  but  recovering  her- 
self, she  said,  in  a  peculiar  tone,  with  which  an  assumed  carelessness  in 
vain  struggled,  "  It  is  singular  that  a  married  man  should  have  thus 
grieved  over  the  object  of  an  extinguished  attachment."  There  hath  been 
foul  play  in  two  ways  between  Margaret  and  myself,  thought  I. — 
"  Captain  Francillon,"  I  observed  aloud,  "  was  not  married  until  live 


1830.]  The  Demon  Ship.  641 

years  after  the  period  we  speak  of, — when  he  gave  his  hand  to  one  of 
whom  I  trust  he  has  too  much  manly  feeling  ever  to  speak  save  with  the 
tender  respect  she  merited,  but  to  whom  he  candidly  confessed  that 
he  brought  but  a  blighted  heart,  the  better  half  of  whose  affections  lay 
buried  in  the  grave  of  her  who  had  first  inspired  them/'  In  vain  I  sought 
to  perceive  what  effect  this  disclosure  had  on  my  companion.  Her  face 
seemed  studiously  averted.  The  calm  was  profound;  every  breeze 
seemed  to  have  died  on  the  deep.  It  could  not,  therefore,  be  the  night- 
air  that  so  violently  agitated  the  white  raiment  of  Margaret. 

I  continued  my  history, — brought  myself  to  Malta,  and  placed  myself 
on  board  an  English  vessel.  Here,  I  confess,  my  courage  half-failed 
me;  but  I  went  on. — "  Francillon,"  I  said,  "  now  began  to  realize  his 
return  to  his  native  land.  On  the  first  night  of  his  voyage  he  threw  him- 
self, in  meditative  mood,  on  the  deck,  and  half  in  thought,  half  in 
dreams,  recalled  former  scenes.  But  there  was  one  form  which,  re- 
created by  a  faithful  memory,  constantly  arose  before  his  imagination. 
He  dreamed,  too,  a  something — I  know  not  what — of  a  pilgrimage  to 
the  lone  grave  of  her  he  had  loved  and  lost ;  and  then  a  change  came 
upon  his  slumbering  fancy,  and  he  seemed  to  be  ploughing  some  solitary 
and  dismal  sea ;  but  even  there  a  form  appeared  to  him,  whose  voice 
thrilled  on  his  ear,  and  whose  eye,  though  it  had  waxed  cold  to  him, 
made  his  heart  heave  with  strange  and  unwonted  emotion.  He  awoke 
— but  oh  ! — the  vision  vanished  not.  Still  in  the  moonlight  he  saw  her 
who  had  risen  on  his  dreams.  Francillon  started  up.  The  figure  he 
gazed  on  hastily  retreated.  He  followed  her  in  time  to  raise  her  from 
the  fall  her  precipitate  flight  had  occasioned,  and  discovered,  with  sensa- 
tions which  for  a  moment  well  nigh  overpowered  him,  that  she  whom  he 
beheld  was  indeed  the  object  of  his  heart's  earliest  and  best  feelings — • 
was  Margaret  Cameron  !"  I  believe  my  respiration  almost  failed  me  as 
I  thus  ended.  I  spoke  passionately,  and  uncovered  my  head  when  I 
uttered  the  concluding  words.  Margaret  sprang  to  her  feet  with  asto- 
nishment and  emotion.  "  Is  it  possible  ! — have  I  then  the  pleasure  to 
see— I  am  sure — I  am  most  fortunate — "  again  and  again  began  Mar- 
garet. But  her  efforts  at  calmness,  at  ease,  and  even  politeness,  all  failed 
her ;  and  re-seating  herself^  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and 
gave  way  to  an  honest  flood  of  tears.  I  was  delighted ;  yet  I  felt  that  I 
had  placed  her  in  an  embarrassing  situation.  Seating  myself,  therefore, 
by  her,  and  taking  her  hand,  rather  with  the  air  of  an  elder  brother  than 
of  a  suitor,—"  Margaret,"  I  said,  "  (if,  as  an  early  friend  both  of  you  and 
your  father,  you  will  again  allow  me  thus  to  call  you,)  I  fear  I  have 
been  somewhat  abrupt  with  you.  Forgive  me  if  I  have  been  too  bold  in 
thus  forcing  on  you  the  history  of  one  for  whom  I  have  little  reason  and  less 
right  to  suppose  you  still  interested.  Bury  in  oblivion  some  passages  in 
it,  and  forgive  the  biographer  if  he  have  expanded  a  little  too  freely 
on  feelings  which  may  be  unacceptable  to  your  ear.1"  I  stretched  out 
my  hand  as  I  spoke,  and  we  warmly  shook  hands,  as  two  old  friends  in 
the  first  moment  of  meeting. 

I  had  been  longing  to  know  somewhat  of  Margaret's  own  history, — 
wherefore  she  had  visited  Malta,  &c. ;  but  she  seemed  to  have  no  inten- 
tion of  gratifying  my  curiosity,  and  I  only  too  feelingly  divined  that  her 
parents'  altered  circumstances  had  sent  h«r  out  the  humble  companion  of 
the  Countess  of  Falcondale.  ((  I  am  aware,"  I  said,  smiling,  "  that  I 
have  more  than  one  old  acquaintance  in  this  vessel ;  and,  in  truth,  when 

M  M..  New  Series.—VoL.  X.  No.  60.  4  M 


642  The  Demon  Ship.  [DEC. 

I  heard  that  my  former  friend — I  had  nearly  said  enemy — the  Countess 
of  Falcondale,  was  on  board,  I  felt  half-inclined  to  relinquish  the 
voyage."  Margaret  hesitated — then  said,  half-smiling,  half-sad,  "  I 
cannot  autobiographize  as  my  friend  has  done.  But — but — perhaps  you 
heard  of  the  unhappy  state  of  my  dear  parent's  affairs — and  his  daughter 
was  prevailed  on  to  take  a  step — perhaps  a  false  one.  Well — well,  I 
cannot  tell  my  history.  Peace  be  with  the  dead ! — every  filial,  every 
conjugal  feeling  consecrate  their  ashes  ! — But  make  yourself  easy  ;  my 
mother-in-law  is  not  here.  You  will  find  but  one  dowager-countess  in 
this  vessel,  and  she  now  shakes  your  hand,  and  bids  you  a  good  night." 

Margaret  hastily  disappeared  as  she  spoke,  and  left  me  in  a  state 

But  I  will  teaze  no  one  with  my  half-dreamlike  feelings  on  that  night. 

Well,  I  failed  not  to  visit  my  noble  fellow-passenger  on  the  morrow  ; 
and  day  after  day,  while  we  lay  on  those  becalmed  waves,  I  renewed 
my  intercourse  with  Margaret.  It  can  easily  be  divined  that  she  had 
given  her  hand  to  save  a  parent,  and  that  she  had  come  abroad  with  a 
husband,  who,  dying,  had  there  left  her  a  widow,  and — alas  !  for  me — 
a  rich  widow.  If  the  limits  of  my  little  manuscript  would  allow,  I  could 
tell  a  long  tale  of  well-managed  treachery  and  deception  ;  how  the  ill- 
natured  countess  suffered  me  to  remain  in  the  belief  that  the  death  of 

Captain  Cameron's  niece,  which  occurred  at  A ,  shortly  after  my 

departure,  was  that  of  my  own  Margaret;  how,  in  her  character  of 
supreme  manager  of  the  paralytic  officer's  affairs,  she  kept  my  letters  for 
her  own  exclusive  eye ;  how  she  worked  on  Margaret's  feelings  to  bring 
about  a  marriage  with  the  Earl  of  Falcondale,  in  the  hope  of  again 
acquiring  a  maternal  footing  in  her  son's  house,  and  the  right  of  manag- 
ing a  portionless  and  now  broken-spirited  daughter-in-law ;  how  Mar- 
garet held  out  stoutly  until  informed  of  my  broken  faith  ;  and  how  her 
marriage  was  kept  from  the  public  papers.  For  the  countess,  although 
I  feel  assured  that  there  was  a  something  inexpressibly  soothing  in  her 
feelings  in  thus  over-reaching  and  punishing  one  who  had  so  often  mor- 
tified her  self-importance, — yet  I  do  believe  that  the  love  of  concealment, 
and  management,  and  plotting,  and  bringing  things  about  by  her  own 
exclusive  agency,  was,  after  all,  the  primum  mobile  in  this  affair.  She 
had  too  little  feeling  herself  even  to  conceive  the  pang  she  was  inflicting 
on  me,  and  she  doubtless  considered  herself  the  supreme  benefactress  of 
Margaret. 

As  my  intimacy  with  Margaret  increased,  I  reflected  with  additional 
pain  on  her  marriage.  In  the  first  place,  I  could  not  bear  to  think  of 
her  having  belonged  to  another  ;  and,  in  the  second,  I  felt  that  her  rank 
and  wealth  might  give  to  my  addresses  an  air  of  self-interest  which  I 
felt  they  did  not  deserve.  I  dreaded  the  end  of  my  voyage  as  much  as 
I  had  at  first  desired  it,  and  almost  wished  that  we  could  sail  for  ever  over 
those  still,  blue  seas.  Alas  !  it  was  not  long  ere  I  would  have  given  all 
I  held  in  life  that  Margaret  and  I  had  never  met  on  those  waves — ere 
I  would  have  sacrificed  all  our  late  sweet  intercourse,  to  have  known 
that  she  was  safe  in  her  narrow  house  of  turf  by  the  lowly  church  of 

A ,  and  her  soul  in  shelter  from  the  horrors  it  was  doomed  to 

suffer. 

One  night,  after  we  had  been  standing  for  some  time,  contemplating 
the  unrivalled  blue  of  a  southern  summer  sky,  I  thought,  as  I  bade  the 
Countess  a  good  night,  that  I  perceived  a  light  breeze  arising.  This  I 
remarked  to  her,  and  she  received  the  observation  with  a  pleasure  which 


1830.J  The  Demon  Ship.  6-13 

found  no  correspondent  emotion  in  my  own  bosom.  As  I  descended  to 
my  berth,  I  fancied  I  descried  among  the  sailors  one  Girod  Jaqueminot, 
whose  face  I  had  not  before  remarked.  He  was  a  Frenchman,  to  whom 
I  had,,  during  my  residence  abroad,  rendered  some  signal  services,  and 
who,  though  but  a  wild  fellow,  had  sworn  to  me  eternal  gratitude.  He 
skulked,  however,  behind  his  fellows,  and  did  not  now,  it  appeared, 
choose  to  recognize  his  benefactor. 

I  believe  I  slept  profoundly  that  night.  When  I  woke,  there  was  a 
sound  of  dashing  waves  against  the  vessel,  and  a  bustle  of  sailors'  voices, 
and  a  blustering  noise  of  wind  among  the  sails  and  rigging ;  and  I  soon 
perceived  that  our  ship  was  scudding  before  a  stiff,  nay,  almost  stormy 
gale.  I  peeped  through  the  seaward  opening  of  my  little  cabin.  The 
scene  was  strangely  changed.  It  was  scarcely  dawn.  Dim  and  grey 
clouds  obscured  the  heaven  I  had  so  recently  gazed  on.  I  looked  for 
the  white  sails  of  our  accompanying  vessels,  and  our  convoy.  All  had 
disappeared.  We  seemed  alone  on  those  leaden-coloured  billows.  At 
this  moment  I  heard  a  voice  in  broken  English  say,  "  Confound — while 
I  reef  tose  tammed  topsails  my  pipe  go  out." — "  Light  it  again  then  at 
the  binnacle,  Monseer,"  said  a  sailor. — (f  Yes,  and  be  hanged  to  de 
yard-arm  by  our  coot  captain  for  firing  de  sheep.  Comment- faire  ? 
Sacre-bleu  !  I  cannot  even  tink  vidout  my  pipe.  De  tought !  Monsieur 
in  de  leetle  coop  dere  have  always  de  lamp  patent  burning  for  hees  lec- 
ture. He  sleep  now.  I  go  enter  gently — light  my  pipe."  He  crept 
into  my  cabin  as  he  spoke.  "  How's  this,  my  friend  ?"  said  I,  speaking 
in  French  ;  <f  does  not  your  captain  know  that  we  are  out  of  sight  of 
convoy."  Girod  answered  in  his  native  language, — "  Oh  !  that  I  had 
seen  you  sooner.  You  think,  perhaps,  I  have  forgotten  all  I  owe  you  ? 
No — no — but  'tis  too  late  now  !"  The  man's  face  shewed  so  much  horror 
and  anguish,  that  I  was  startled.  He  pointed  to  the  horizon.  On  its 
very  verge  one  sail  was  yet  visible.  A  faint  rolling  noise  came  over  the 
water.  "  It  is  the  British  frigate,"  said  Girod,  "  firing  to  us  to  put  our 
ship  about,  and  keep  under  convoy.  But  our  captain  has  no  intention 
of  obeying  the  signal ;  and  if  you  get  out  of  sight  of  that  one  distant 
sail,  you  are  lost." — "  Think  you,  then,  that  the  Demon  Ship  is  in  these 
seas  ?"  said  I,  anxiously.  Girod  came  close  to  me.  With  a  countenance 
of  remorse  and  despair  which  I  can  never  forget,  he  grasped  my  arm, 
and  held  it  towards  heaven, — "  Look  up  to  God !"  he  whispered  ;  "  you 
are  on  board  the  Demon  Ship  !"  A  step  was  heard  near  the  cabin,  and 
Girod  was  darting  from  it ;  but  I  held  him  by  the  sleeve.  "  For 
Heaven's  sake,  for  miladi's  sake,  for  your  own  sake/'  he  whispered, 
"  let  not  a  look,  a  word,  shew  that  you  are  acquainted  with  this  secret. 
If  our  captain  knew  I  had  betrayed  it,  we  should  at  this  moment  be 
rolling  fathom-deep  over  one  another  in  the  ocean.  All  I  can  do  is  to 
try  and  gain  time  for  you.  But  be  prudent,  or  you  are  lost !"  He  pre- 
cipitately quitted  the  cabin  as  he  spoke,  leaving  me  in  doubt  whether 
I  were  awake  or  dreaming.  When  I  thought  how  long,  and  how  fear- 
lessly, the  "  Elizabeth"  had  lain  amid  the  trading-vessels  at  Valetta, 
and  how  she  had  sailed  from  that  port  under  a  powerful  convoy,  I  was 
almost  tempted  to  believe  that  Girod  had  been  practising  a  joke  on  me. 
As,  however,  I  heard  voices  near,  I  determined  to  lie  still,  and  gather 
what  information  I  could.  "  What  have  you  been  doing  there  ?"  said  a 
voice  I  had  never  heard  before,  and  whose  ruffianly  tones  could  hardly 
be  subdued  by  his  efforts  at  a  whisper.  "  My  pipe  go  out,"  answered 

4  M  2 


644  The  Demon  Ship.  [DEC. 

Girod  Jaqueminot,  "  and  I  not  an  imprudent  to  light  it  at  de  beenacle. 
So  I  go  just  hold  it  over  de  lamp  of  Monsieur,  and  he  sleep,  sleep,  snore, 
snore  all  de  while,  and  know  noting.  I  have  never  seed  one  man  dorme 
so  profound." 

I  now  heard  the  voices  of  the  captain,  Girod,  and  the  ruffian  in  close 
and  earnest  parlance.  The  expletives  that  graced  it  shall  be  omitted. 
But  what  first  confirmed  my  fears  was  the  hearing  our  captain  obse- 
quiously address  the  ruffian-speaker  as  commander  of  the  vessel,  while 
the  former  received  from  his  companion  the  familiar  appellative  of  Jack. 
They  were  walking  the  deck,  and  their  whispered  speech  only  reached 
me  as  they  from  time  to  time  approached  my  cabin,  and  was  again  lost  as 
they  receded.  I  thought,  however,  that  Girod  seemed,  by  stopping  occa- 
sionally, as  if  in  the  vehemence  of  speech,  to  draw  them,  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, towards  my  cabin.  I  then  listened  with  an  intentness  which 
made  me  almost  fear  to  breathe.  "  But  again  I  say,  Jack,"  said  the 
voice  of  the  real  captain,  "  what  are  we  to  do  with  these  fine  passengers 
of  ours  ?  I  am  sick  of  this  stage-play  work  ;  and  the  men  are  tired,  by 
this  time,  of  being  kept  down  in  the  hold.  We  shall  have  them  mutiny 
if  we  stifle  them  much  longer  below.  Look  how  that  sail  is  sinking  on 
the  horizon.  She  can  never  come  up  with  us  now.  There  be  eight 
good  sacks  in  the  forecastle,  and  we  can  spare  them  due  ballast.  That 
would  do  the  job  decently  enough  for  our  passengers — ha!"  Here  there 
was  something  jocose  in  the  captain's  tone.  "  Oh  !  mine  goot  captain, 
you  are  man  of  speeret,"  observed  Jaqueminot ;  ' '  but  were  it  not  wise 
to  see  dat  sail  no  more,  before  we  shew  dat  we  no  vile  merchanters,  but 
men  of  de  trade  dat  make  de  money  by  de  valour." — "  There  is  some- 
thing in  that,"  observed  Jack ;  "  if  the  convoy  come  up,  and  our  pas- 
sengers be  missing,  'tis  over  with  us.  We  can  no  longer  pass  for  a  trader; 
and  to  hoist  the  Demon  colours,  and  turn  to  with  frigate  and  sloop  both, 
were  to  put  rash  odds  against  us." — "  And  de  coot  sacks  wasted  for 
noting/'  said  Jaqueminot,  with  a  cool  ingenuity  that  contrasted  curiously 
with  his  vehement  and  horror-stricken  manner  in  my  cabin.  "  Better 
to  wait  one  day — two  day — parbleu  !  tree  day — than  spoil  our  sport  by 
de  precipitation." — "  I  grudge  the  keep  of  these  dainty  passengers  all 
this  while,"  said  the  captain,  roughly  ;  —  "  my  lady  there,  with  her 
chickens,  and  her  conserves  and  her  pasties ;  and  Mr.  Mollvfiower  Cap- 
tain here,  with  his  bottles  of  port  and  claret,  and  cups  of  chocolate  and 
Mocha  coffee.  Paying,  too,  forsooth  !  with  such  princely  airs  for  every 
thing,  as  if  we  held  not  his  money  in  our  own  hands  already.  Hunted 
as  we  then  were,  'twas  no  bad  way  of  blinding  governments,  by  passing 
for  traders,  and  getting  monied  passengers  on  board  :  but  it  behoves  us  to 
think  what's  to  be  done  now?" — "  My  opinion  is,"  said  Jack,  "  that  as 
we  have  already  put  such  violence  on  our  habits,  we  keep  up  the  farce 
another  day  or  two  until  we  get  into  clear  seas  again.  That  vessel, 
yonder,  still  keeps  on  the  horizon,  and  she  has  good  glasses  on  board." 
— "  And  the  men  ?"  asked  the  captain.  "  I  had  rather,  without  more 
debate,  go  into  this  hen-pen  here,  and  down  into  the  cabin  below,  and 
in  a  quiet  way  do  for  our  passengers,  than  stand  the  chance  of  a  mutiny 
among  the  crew."  Here  my  very  blood  curdled  in  my  veins.  "  Dat 
is  goot,  and  like  mine  brave  capitain,"  said  the  Frenchman ;  "  and  yet 
Monsieur  Jean  say  well  mosh  danger  kill  at  present ;  but  why  not  have 
de  crew  above  deck  vidout  making  no  attention  to  de  voyagers.  Dey 
take  not  no  notice.  Miladi  tink  but  of  moon,  and  stars,  and  book  ;  and 


1830.]  The  Demon  Ship.  645 

for  de  sleeping  Lyon  dere,  it  were  almost  pity  to  cut  his  troat  in  any 
case.  He  ver  coot  faillow ;  like  we  chosen  speerit.  Sacre-bleu  !  I  knew 
him  a  boy." — £1  had  never  seen  the  fellow  until  I  was  on  the  wrong  side 
of  my  thirtieth  birth-day.] — "  Alvays  for  de  mischief, — stealing  apples, 
beating  his  schoolfellows,  and  oder  little  speerited  tricks.  At  last  he 
was  expell  de  school.  I  say  not  dis  praise  from  no  love  to  him ;  for  he 
beat  me  one,  two  time,  when  I  secretaire  to  his  uncle  j  and  den  run  oft 
vid  my  soodheart — so  I  ver  well  pleased  make  him  bad  turn." — "  Well, 
then,  suppose  the  men  come  on  deck,  half  at  a  time/'  said  the  captain  ; 
and  we'll  keep  the  prisoners — Heaven  help  us !  the  passengers — till  the 
sea  be  clear,  may  be  till  sunset/' — "  Look,  look  !"  said  Jack,  "  the 
frigate  gains  on  us ;  I  partly  see  her  hull,  and  the  wind  slackens."  I 
now  put  my  own  glass,  which  was  a  remarkably  good  one,  through  my 
little  window,  and  could  distinctly  see  the  sails  and  rigging  and  part  of 
the  hull  of  our  late  convoy.  I  could  perceive  that  many  of  her  crew 
were  aloft ;  but  the  motion  of  our  own  vessel  was  so  great  that  the  frigate 
was  sometimes  on  and  sometimes  off  the  glass ;  and  I  was  therefore 
unable  to  discover  whether  she  were  hoisting  or  taking  in  sail.  It  was  a 
comfortable  sight,  however,  to  see  a  friendly  power  apparently  so  near ; 
and  there  was  a  feeling  of  hopeless  desolation  when,  on  removing  the 
glass,  the  vessel,  whose  men  I  could  almost  have  counted  before,  shrank 
to  a  dim,  grey  speck  on  the  horizon.  The  captain  uttered  an  infernal 
oath,  and  called  aloud  to  his  sailors,  "  Seamen — ahoy — ahoy  !  Make  all 
the  sail  ye  can.  Veer  out  the  main-sheet — top-sails  unreefed — royals 
and  sky-sails  up"  Q&c.  &c.].  "  Stretch  every  stitch  of  canvass.  Keep 
her  to  the  wind — keep  her  to  the  wind  !"  I  was  surprised  to  find  that 
our  course  was  suddenly  changed,  as  the  vessel,  which  had  previously 
driven  before  the  breeze,  was  now  evidently  sailing  with  a  side-wind. 

The  noise  of  rattling  cables,  the  trampling  of  sailors'  feet  on  deck, 
and  the  increased  blustering  of  the  wind  in  the  crowded  sails,  now  over- 
came every  other  sound.  The  Demon  Ship  was,  of  course,  made  for 
fast  sailing,  and  she  now  drove  onward  at  a  rate  that  was  almost  incre- 
dible. She  literally  flew  like  a  falcon  over  the  waves.  Once  more  I 
turned  to  the  horizon.  God  of  mercy  !  the  frigate  again  began  to  sink 
upon  the  waters. 

And  now  shall  I  waste  words  in  telling  what  were  my  feelings  during 
the  hour  of  horror  I  have  described  ?  I  felt  as  one  who  had  dreamed 
himself  in  security,  and  awoke  in  the  infernal  regions.  I  felt  that  in  a 
few  hours  I  might  not  only  be  butchered  in  cold  blood  myself,  but  might 
see  Margaret — that  was  the  thought  that  unmanned  me.  I  tried  to 
think  if  any  remedy  yet  remained,  if  aught  lay  in  our  power  to  avert 
our  coming  fate.  Nothing  offered  itself.  I  felt  that  we  were  entirely 
in  the  power  of  the  Demon  buccaneers.  I  saw  that  all  that  Girod  could 
do  was  to  gain  a  few  hours'  delay.  Oh  !  when  we  stand  suddenly,  but 
assuredly,  on  the  verge  of  disembodied  existence,  who  can  paint  that 
strange  revulsion  of  feeling  which  takes  place  in  the  human  bosom  !  I 
had  never  been  one  who  held  it  a  duty  to  conceal  from  any  human  being 
that  approaching  crisis  of  his  destiny  which  will  usher  hi^n  before  the 
tribunal  of  his  Maker ;  and  my  earnest  desire  now  was  to  inform  Mar- 
garet as  quickly  as  possible  of  her  coming  fate.  But  after  Girod's  parting 
injunction,  I  feared  to  precipitate  the  last  fatal  measures  by  any  step 
that  might  seem  taken  with  reference  to  them.  I  therefore  lay  still 
until  morning  was  farther  advanced.  I  then  arose  and  left  my  cabin. 


(>4i)  The  Demon  Ship.  [DEC. 

It  was  yet  scarcely  broad  day,  but  many  a  face  I  had  not  before  seen 
met  my  eye,  many  a  countenance,  whose  untameable  expression  of  fero- 
city had  doubtless  been  deemed,  even  by  the  ruffian  commander  himself, 
good  reason  for  hitherto  keeping  them  from  observation.  All  on  the 
quarter-deck  was  quiet.  The  skylight  of  the  cabin  was  closed,  and  it 
seemed  that  the  countess  and  her  female  attendants  were  still  enjoying 
a  calm  and  secure  repose.  I  longed  to  descend  and  arouse  them  from 
a  sleep  which  was  so  soon  to  be  followed  by  a  deeper  slumber ;  but  the 
step  would  have  been  hazardous,  and  I  therefore  walked  up  and  down 
the  quarter-deck,  sometimes  anxiously  watching  for  the  removal  of  the 
sky-light,  sometimes  straining  my  vision  on  the  horizon,  and  sometimes 
casting  a  furtive  glance  towards  the  evidently  increasing  crew  on  deck, 
whilst  ever  and  anon  my  soul  rose  on  prayer  to  its  God,  and  spread  its 
fearful  cause  before  him. 

I  had  now  an  opportunity  of  discovering  the  real  nature  of  my  senti- 
ments towards  Margaret.  They  stood  the  test  which  overthrows  many 
a  summer-day  attachment.  I  felt  that,  standing  as  my  soul  now  was  on 
the  verge  of  its  everlasting  fate,  it  lost  not  one  of  its  feelings  of  tender- 
ness. They  had  assumed,  indeed,  a  more  sacred  character,  but  they 
were  not  diminished.  The  sun  arose,  and  the  countess  appeared  on 
deck.  I  drew  her  to  the  stern  of  the  vessel,  so  that  her  back  was  to  the 
crew,  and  there  divulged  the  fearful  secret  which  so  awfully  concerned 
her.  At  first  the  woman  only  appeared  in  Margaret ;  her  cheek  was 
pale,  her  lips  bloodless,  and  respiration  seemed  almost  lost  in  terror  and 
overpowering  astonishment.  She  soon,  however,  gained  comparative 
self-possession.  "  I  must  be  alone  for  a  few  moments,"  she  said.  "  Per- 
haps you  will  join  me  below  in  a  brief  hour."  She  enveloped  her  face 
in  her  shawl  to  hide  its  agitation  from  the  crew,  and  hastily  descended 
to  her  cabin.  When  I  joined  her  at  the  time  she  had  appointed,  a  hea- 
venly calm  had  stolen  over  her  countenance.  She  held  out  one  hand  to 
me,  and  pointing  upwards  with  the  other,  said,  "  I  have  not  implored  in 
vain.  Come  and  sit  by  me,  my  friend ;  our  moments  seem  numbered 
on  earth,  but,  oh !  what  an  interminable  existence  stretches  beyond  it. 
In  such  a  moment  as  this,  how  do  we  feel  the  necessity  of  some  better 
stay  than  aught  our  own  unprofitable  lives  can  yield."  Margaret's 
bible  lay  before  her.  It  was  open  at  the  history  of  His  sufferings  on 
whom  her  soul  relied.  She  summoned  her  maidens,  and  we  all  read 
and  prayed  together.  Her  attendants  were  two  sisters,  of  less  exalted 
mind  than  their  mistress,  but  whose  piety,  trembling  and  lowly,  was 
equally  genuine.  They  sate  locked  in  one  another's  arms,  pale  and 
weeping. 

It  was  a  difficult  day  to  pass,  urged  by  prudence,  and  the  slender 
remain  of  hope,  to  appear  with  our  wonted  bearing  before  the  crew. 
We  felt,  too,  that  there  was  a  something  suspicious  in  our  remaining  so 
long  together,  but  we  found  it  almost  impossible  to  loose  our  grasp  on 
each  other's  hands  and  separate.  Too  plain  indications  that  our  sen- 
tence was  at  length  gone  forth  soon  began  to  shew  themselves.  Our 
scanty  breakfast  had  been  served  early  in  the  morning,  with  a  savage 
carelessness  of  manner  that  ominously  contrasted  with  the  over-done 
attentions  we  had  before  received  ;  and  the  non-appearance  of  any  sub- 
sequent meal,  though  day  waned  apace,  fearfully  proved  to  us  that  the 
Demon  captain  now  held  further  ceremony  with  his  doomed  passengers 
useless.  Margaret  held  me  to  her  with  a  gentle  and  trembling  tenacity 


1830.]  The  Demon  Ship.  647 

that  rendered  it  difficult  for  me  to  leave  her  even  for  a  moment ;  but  I 
felt  the  duty  of  ascertaining  whether  any  aid  yet  appeared  in  view,  or 
whether  Girod  could  effect  aught  for  us.  I  walked  towards  evening- 
round  the  quarter-deck — not  a  sail  was  to  be  seen  on  the  horizon.  I 
endeavoured  to  speak  to  Girod,  but  he  seemed  studiously  and  fearfully 
to  avoid  me.  The  captain  was  above,  and  the  deck  was  thronged.  I 
believe  this  desperate  crew  was  composed  of  "  all  people,  nations,  and 
languages."  Once  only  I  met  Girod' s  eye  as  he  passed  me  quickly  in 
assisting  to  hoist  a  sail.  He  looked  me  fixedly  and  significantly  in  the 
face.  It  was  enough :  that  expressive  regard  said,  "  Your  sentence  has 
gone  forth  I"  I  instantly  descended  to  the  cabin,  and  my  fellow- victims 
read  in  my  countenance  the  extinction  of  hope.  We  now  fastened  the 
door,  I  primed  my  pistols,  and  placed  them  in  my  bosom,  and  clinging 
to  one  another  we  waited  our  fate.  It  was  evident  that  the  ship  had 
been  put  about,  and  that  we  were  sailing  in  a  different  direction ;  for  the 
sun,  which  had  before  set  over  the  bows  of  the  vessel,  now  sent  his 
parting  rays  into  the  stern  windows.  Margaret  put  her  hand  in  mine 
with  a  gentle  confidence,  which  our  circumstances  then  warranted,  and 
I  held  her  close  to  me.  She  stretched  out  her  other  hand  to  her  female 
attendants,  who,  clinging  close  together,  each  held  a  hand  of  their  mis- 
tress. ft  Dear  Edward!"  said  Margaret,  grasping  my  arm.  It  was 
almost  twelve  years  since  I  had  heard  these  words  from  her  lips ;  but 
it  now  seemed  as  if  there  were  between  us  a  mutual,  though  tacit, 
understanding  of  our  feelings  for  each  other.  Unrestrained,  at  such  a 
moment,  by  the  presence  of  the  domestics,  Margaret  and  I  used  the 
most  endearing  expressions,  and,  like  a  dying  husband  and  wife,  bade 
solemn  farewell  to  each  other.  We  all  then  remained  silent,  our  quick 
beating  hearts  raised  in  prayer,  and  our  ear  open  to  every  sound  that 
seemed  to  approach  the  cabin.  Perhaps  the  uncertain  nature  of  the 
death  we  were  awaiting  rendered  its  approach  more  fearful.  The  ocean 
must  undoubtedly  be  our  grave ;  but  whether  the  wave,  the  cord,  the 
pistol,  or  the  dagger  would  be  the  instrument  of  our  destruction  we 
knew  not ;  whether  something  like  mercy  would  be  shewn  by  our 
butchers  in  the  promptness  of  our  execution,  or  whether  they  might 
take  a  ruffian  pleasure  in  inflicting  a  lingering  pain.  Had  Margaret  or 
I  been  alone  in  these  awful  circumstances,  I  believe  this  thought  would 
not  have  occupied  us  a  moment ;  but  to  be  doomed  to  be  spectators  of 
the  butchery  of  those  we  love,  makes  the  heart  recoil  in  horror  from  the 
last  crisis,  even  when  it  believes  that  the  sword  of  the  assassin  will  prove 
the  key  to  the  gate  of  heaven. 

The  sun  sank  in  the  waters,  and  the  last  tinge  of  crimson  faded  on  the 
waves,  that  now  rolled  towards  the  stern  windows  in  dun  and  dismal 
billows.  The  wind,  as  is  often  the  case  at  sunset,  died  on  the  ocean. 
At  this  moment  I  heard  the  voice  of  the  captain — "  Up  to  the  top  of  the 
mainmast,  Jack,  and  see  if  there  be  any  sail  on  the  horizon."  The  group 
of  victims  in  the  cabin  scarcely  drew  breath  while  waiting  a  reply  which 
would  decide  their  fate.  We  distinguished  the  sound  of  feet  running 
up  the  shrouds.  A  few  moments  elapsed  ere  the  answer  was  received. 
At  length  we  heard  a — "  Well,  Jack,  well  ?" — which  was  followed  by 
the  springing  of  a  man  on  deck,  and  the  words,  "  Not  a  sail  within  fifty 
miles,  I'll  be  sworn." — ' '  Well,  then,  do  the  work  below  \"  was  the  reply. 
"  But  (with  an  oath)  don't  let's  have  any  squealing  or  squalling.  Finish 
them  quietly.  And  take  all  the  trumpery  out  of  the  cabin,  for  we  shall 


648  The  Demon  Ship.  [DEC. 

hold  revel  there  to  night."  A  step  now  came  softly  down  the  cabin 
stair,  and  a  hand  tried  the  door,  but  found  it  fastened.  I  quitted  Mar- 
garet, and  placed  myself  at  the  entrance  of  the  cabin.  "  Whoever," 
said  I,  "  attempts  to  come  into  this  place  does  it  at  peril  of  his  life.  I 
fire  the  instant  the  latch  is  raised." — A  voice  said,  "  Laissez  moi  entrer 
done."  I  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  unfastened  the  door.  Girod 
entered,  and  locked  it  after  him.  He  dragged  in  with  him  four  strings, 
with  heavy  stones  appended  to  them,  and  the  same  number  of  sacks. 
The  females  sank  on  the  floor.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  Girod  rolled 
up  the  carpet  of  the  cabin,  and  took  up  the  trap-door,  which  every 
traveller  knows  is  to  be  found  in  the  cabins  of  merchantmen.  "  In — 
in,"  he  said  in  French  to  the  countess  and  myself.  I  immediately 
descended,  received  Margaret  into  my  arms,  and  was  holding  them  out 
for  the  other  females,  when  the  trap-door  was  instantly  closed  and 
bolted,  the  carpet  laid  down,  the  cabin  door  unlocked,  and  Girod  called 
out,  "  Here  you,  Harry,  Jack,  how  call  you  yourselves,  I've  done  for 
two  of  dem.  I  can't  manage  no  more.  Dat  tamned  Captain  Lyon, 
when  I  stuff  him  in  de  sack,  he  almost  brake  de  arm."  Heavy  feet 
trampling  over  the  cabin  floor,  with  a  sound  of  scuffling  and  struggling, 
were  now  heard  over  our  head.  A  stifled  shriek,  which  died  into  a 
deep  groan,  succeeded  —  then  two  heavy  plashes  into  the  water, 
with  the  bubbling  noise  of  something  sinking  beneath  the  waves,  and 
the  fate  of  the  two  innocent  sisters  was  decided.  "  Where's  Monsieur 
Girod  ?"  at  length  said  a  rough  voice. — "  Oh,  he's  gone  above,"  was  the 
reply ;  "  thinks  himself  too  good  to  kill  any  but  quality." — "  No,  no/' 
answered  the  other,  "  I'm  Girod's,  through  to  the  back-bone — the  fun- 
niest fellow  of  the  crew.  But  he  had  a  private  quarrel  against  that 
captain  down  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  there,  so  he  asks  our  commander 
not  to  let  any  body  lay  hands  on  him  but  himself.  A  very  natural  thing 
to  ask.  There — close  that  locker,  heave  out  the  long  table,  there'll  be 
old  revel  here  to-night." — At  this  moment  Girod  again  descended.  "  All 
hands  aloft,  ma  lads,"  he  cried,  ' '  make  no  attention  to  de  carpet  dere — 
matters  not,  for  I  most  fairst  descend,  and  give  out  de  farine  for  pasty. 
We  have  no  more  cursed  voyagers,  so  may  make  revel  here  to  naight 
vidout  no  incommode."  He  soon  descended  with  a  light  into  our  wooden 
dungeon. 

Her  own  unexpected  rescue,  the  fate  of  her  domestics,  and  the  sudden 
obscurity  in  which  we  were  involved,  had  almost  overpowered  Mar- 
garet's senses,  but  they  returned  with  the  light.  "  Poor  Katie,  poor 
Mary.  Alas  !  for  their  aged  mother  !"  she  said,  in  the  low  and  subdued 
tone  of  one  who  seems  half  dreaming  a  melancholy  and  frightful  dream, 
and  looking  with  horror  at  Girod. — "  I  would  have  saved  you  all,  had 
it  been  possible/'  said  Jacqueminot,  in  French.  "  But  how  were  all  to 
be  hid,  and  kept  in  this  place  ?  What  I  have  done  is  at  the  risk  of  my 
life.  But  there  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost.  I  have  the  keeping  of  the 
stern-hold.  Look  you — here  be  two  rows  of  meal-sacks  fore  and  aft. 
If  you,  miladi,  can  hide  behind  one,  and  you,  colonel,  behind  the  other, 
ye  may  have,  in  some  sort,  two  little  chambers  to  yourselves,  after  Eng- 
lish fashion.  Or  if  you  prefer  the  same  hiding-place,  take  it,  in  hea- 
ven's name,  but  lose  not  a  moment." — "  And  what  will  be  the  end  of  all 
this  ?"  asked  I,  after  some  hurried  expressions  of  gratitude. — "  God 
knoweth,"  he  replied.  "  I  will  from  time  to  time,  when  I  descend  to 
give  out  meal,  and  clean  the  place,  bring  you  provisions.  How  long 


1830.]  The  Demon  Ship.  649 

this  can  last — where  we  are  going — and  whether  in  the  end  I  can  rescue 
you,  time  must  be  the  shewer.  If  we  should  put  into  some  port  of  the 
Levant,  perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  pass  you  on  shore  in  one  of  these 
sacks ;  but  we  are  still  on  the  Gibraltar  side  of  Malta,  and  shall  not  see 
land  for  a  month — only,  for  God's  sake,  keep  quiet.  I'd  leave  you  a 
light,  but  it  would  be  dangerous.  I  doubt  you'll  be  stifled  alive.  Yet 
there's  no  help  for  it.  Hide,  hide — I  dare  stay  not  one  moment  longer." 
He  rolled  down  a  heap  of  biscuits,  placed  a  pitcher  of  water  by  them, 
and  departed. 

Never  will  our  first  fearful  night  in  that  strange  concealment  be  for- 
gotten. The  Demon  crew  held  wild  revelry  over  our  head.  Their 
fierce  and  iniquitous  speech,  their  lawless  songs,  their  awful  and  demo- 
niac oaths,  their  wild  intoxication,  made  Margaret  thrill  with  a  horror 
that  half  excited  the  wish  to  escape  in  death  from  the  polluting  vicinity 
of  such  infernal  abominations.  The  hold  was  so  shallow  that  we  ap- 
peared close  to  the  revellers.  Their  voices  sounded  so  near  that  we 
seemed  almost  among  them,  and  our  concealment  a  miracle  ;  while  the 
heat  became  so  stifling  and  unbearable,  that  we  could  scarcely  gasp,  and 
I  began  to  fear  that  Margaret  would  expire  in  my  arms. 

It  was  a  strange  reflection  that  we  might,  almost  without  the  warning 
of  an  instant,  be  in  the  hands  of  our  brutal  and  unconscious  gaolers ; 
for  our  concealment  afforded  not  even  the  slender  defence  of  an  inside 
lock  or  bolt,  and  the  carpet,  which  seemed  to  present  a  slight  barrier 
between  us  and  the  Demon  hoard,  had  been  rolled  up,  as  no  longer 
necessary  to  give  our  late  accommodations  the  peaceful  appearance  of  a 
cabin  fitted  up  for  passengers.  The  light  streamed  here  and  there 
through  a  crevice  in  the  trap-door,  and  I  involuntarily  trembled  when 
I  saw  it  fall  on  the  white  garment  of  Margaret,  as  if,  even  in  that  con- 
cealment, it  might  betray  her.  We  dared  scarcely  whisper  a  word  of 
encouragement  or  consolation  to  each  other — dared  scarcely  breathe,  or 
stir  even  a  hand  from  the  comfortless  attitude  in  which  we  were  placed. 
We  could  hear  them  speak  occasionally  of  our  murder,  in  a  careless 
and  incidental  manner.  The  captain  expressed  his  regret  that  we  had 
not,  as  matters  turned  out,  been  earlier  disposed  of,  and  made  a  sort  of 
rough  apology  to  his  shipmates  for  the  inconvenience  our  prolonged 
existence  must  have  occasioned  them. 

At  length  the  revellers  broke  up.  I  listened  attentively  until  I 
became  convinced  that  no  one  occupied  the  cabin  that  night.  I  then 
ventured  gently  to  push  up  the  trap-door  a  little,  in  order  to  give  air 
to  my  exhausted  companion.  But  the  fumes  that  entered  were  any 
thing  but  reviving.  All  was  dark  and  quiet  as  death,  and  I  could  hear 
the  rain  descending  violently  on  the  cabin  skylight.  The  wind  was 
high,  and  the  ship  rolled  tremendously.  We  heard  the  roar  of  the 
waters  against  the  side  of  our  prison,  and  the  heavy  dashing  on  deck 
of  huge  billows,  which  even  made  their  way  down  the  cabin  stairs. 

Towards  morning,  as  I  supposed,  for  with  us  it  was  all  one  long 
night,  I  again  distinguished  voices  in  the  cabin.  "  It  blows  a  stiff  gale," 
was  the  observation  of  Jack. — "  So  much  the  better,"  replied  the  hardy 
and  ferocious  voice  of  the  captain ;  "  the  more  way  we  make,  the  farther 
we  get  from  all  those  cursed  government  vessels.  I  think  we  might 
now  venture  to  fall  on  any  merchantman  that  comes  in  our  way.  We 
must  soon  do  something,  for  we  have  as  yet  made  but  a  sorry  out  of 
our  .present  voyage.  Let's  see — four  thousand  sterling  pounds  that 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  60.  4  N 


650  The  Demon  Ship.  [DEC. 

belonged  to  the  captain  there — rather  to  us — seeing  we  had  taken  them 
on  board." — "  Yes,  yes,  we  have  sacked  the  captain/'  observed  Jack, 
facetiously.  His  companion  went  on — "  His  watch,  rings,  and  clothes ; 
and  two  thousand  dollars  of  the  countess's,  and  her  jewels,  amounting, 
perhaps,  to  another  two  thousand.  This  might  be  a  fine  prize  to  a  six- 
teen-gun  brig  of  some  dozing  government,  but  the  Demon  was  built  for 
greater  things." — "  I  suppose,  captain/'  said  Jack,  "  we  go  on  our  usual 
plan,  eh?  The  specie  to  be  distributed  among  the  ship's  company, 
and  the  jewels  and  personals  to  be  appropriated,  in  a  quiet  way,  by  the 
officers  ?  And,  for  once  in  a  way,  I  hope  there  be  no  breach  of  discip- 
line, Captain  Vanderleer,  in  asking  where  might  be  deposited  that  secret 
casket,  containing,  you  and  I  and  one  or  two  more  know  what?  I 
mean  that  we  took  from  the  Spanish- American  brig." — "  It  is  in  the 
stern-hold,  beneath  our  feet  at  this  moment/'  answered  the  captain. — 
"  A  good  one  for  dividing  its  contents,"  said  Jack.  "  I'll  fetch  a  light 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye." — "  No  need,"  replied  the  captain.  "  I 
warrant  me  I  can  lay  my  hand  on  it  in  the  dark."  Without  the  warn- 
ing of  another  moment,  the  Demon  commander  was  in  our  hold.  On 
the  removal  of  the  trap-door  a  faint  light  streamed  into  our  prison  but 
it  only  fell  on  the  part  immediately  under  the  ingress,  and  left  the  sides 
in  obscurity.  I  suppose  it  was  about  four  in  the  morning.  I  had  laid 
Margaret  down  on  some  torn  old  signal  flags,  in  that  division  of  the 
hold  which  Girod  had  assigned  her,  and  had  myself  retired  behind  my 
own  bulwark  of  meal  sacks,  in  order  that  my  companion  might  possess, 
for  her  repose,  something  like  the  freedom  of  a  small  cabin  to  herself. 
I  had  scarcely  time  to  glide  round  to  the  side  of  Margaret  ere  the  mer- 
ciless buccaneer  descended.  We  almost  inserted  ourselves  into  the 
wooden  walls  of  our  hiding-place,  and  literally  drew  down  the  sacks 
upon  us.  The  captain  felt  about  the  apartment  with  his  hand,  some- 
times pushing  it  behind  the  sacks,  and  sometimes  feeling  under  them. 
And  now  he  passed  his  arms  through  those  which  aided  our  conceal- 
ment. Gracious  heaven  !  his  hand  discovered  the  countess's  garments ; 
he  grasped  them  tight ;  he  began  to  drag  her  forward  j  but  at  this 
moment  his  foot  struck  against  the  casket  for  which  he  was  searching. 
He  stooped  to  seize  it,  and,  as  his  hold  on  Margaret  slackened,  I  con- 
trived to  pass  towards  his  hand  a  portion  of  the  old  flag-cloth,  so  as  to 
impress  him  with  the  belief  that  it  was  the  original  object  of  his  grasp. 
He  dragged  it  foward,  and  let  it  go.  But  he  had  disturbed  the  compact 
adjustment  of  the  sacks  ;  and  as  the  vessel  was  now  rolling  violently  in 
a  tempestuous  sea,  a  terrible  lurch  laid  prostrate  our  treacherous  wall  of 
defence,  and  we  stood  full  exposed,  without  a  barrier  between  ourselves 
and  the  ruffian  commander  of  the  Demon.  To  us  it  now  seemed  that 
all  was  lost,  and  I  leaned  over  Margaret  just  to  afford  my  own  bosom  as 
a  slender  and  last  defence. 

The  Demon  captain  had  gone  to  the  light  to  pass  his  casket  through 
the  trap-door.  The  sun  was  rising,  and  the  crimson  hues  of  dawn 
meeting  no  other  object  in  the  hold  save  the  depraved  and  hardened 
countenance  of  our  keeper,  threw  on  its  swart  complexion  such  a  ruddy 
glow,  as — contrasted  with  the  surrounding  darkness — gave  him  the 
appearance  of  some  foul  demon,  emerging  from  the  abodes  of  the  con- 
demned, and*bearing  on  his  unhallowed  countenance  the  reflection  of 
the  infernal  fires  he  had  quitted.  That  glow  was,  however,  our  salva- 
tion. The  captain  turned  with  an  oath  to  replace  the  fallen  sacks.  Any 


1830.]  The  Demon  Ship.  651 

body  who  has  suddenly  extinguished  his  candle,  even  on  a  bright,  starry 
night,  knows  that  the  sudden  transition  from  a  greater  to  a  lesser  degree 
of  light,  produces,  for  a  second  or  two,  the  effect  of  absolute  darkness. 
And  thus  our  concealment  lay  enveloped  in  utter  darkness  to  our  cap- 
tain's eyes,  dazzled  by  the  morning's  first  flood  of  light.  But  it  was 
difficult  for  the  half-breathless  beings,  so  entirely  in  his  power,  to 
realize  this  fact,  when  they  saw  him  advancing  toward  them,  his  eye 
fixed  on  the  spot  where  they  stood,  though  he  saw  them  not ;  it  was 
difficult  to  see,  and  yet  retain  a  conviction  that  we  were  not  seen.  The 
captain  replaced  the  sacks  instantly,  and  we  felt  half- doubtful,  as  he 
pushed  them  with  violence  against  the  beams  where  we  stood,  whether 
he  had  not  actually  discovered  our  persons,  and  taken  this  method  of  at 
once  destroying  them  by  bruises  and  suffocation.  His  work  was,  how- 
ever, only  accompanied  by  an  imprecatory  running  comment  on  Girod's 
careless  manner  of  stowage.  We  were  now  again  buried  in  our  con- 
cealment, but  another  danger  awaited  us.  Jacqueminot  descended  to 
the  cabin.  An  involuntary,  though  half-stifled. shriek  escaped  him  when 
he  saw  the  trap-door  open.  He  sprang  into  the  hold,  and  when  he 
beheld  the  captain,  his  ghastly  smile  of  inquiry,  for  he  spoke  not,  de- 
manded if  his  ruin  were  sealed.  "  I  have  been  seeing  all  your  pretty 
work  here,  Monsieur,"  said  the  gruff  captain,  pointing  to  the  de- 
ranged sacks,  behind  which  we  were  concealed.  I  caught  a  glimpse 
through  them  of  Girod's  despairing  countenance.  It  was  a  fearful 
moment,  for  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  about  to  be  involuntarily  betrayed 
by  our  ally,  at  the  very  instant  when  we  had  escaped  our  enemy. 
Girod's  teeth  literally  chattered,  and  he  murmured  something  about 
French  gallantry  and  honour ;  and  the  countess  being  a  lady,  and  the 
Captain  Francillon  an  old  acquaintance.  ( '  And  so  because  you  cut  the 
throats  of  a  couple  of  solan  geese — as  your  duty  was,  at  your  captain's 
command — you  think  he  must  not  even  see  to  the  righting  of  his  own 
stern-hold?"  said  the  captain,  with  a  gruff  and  abortive  effort  at  plea- 
santry, for  he  felt  Girod's  importance  in  amusing  and  keeping  in  good 
humour  his  motley  crew.  Jacqueminot's  answer  shewed  that  he  was 
now  au  faity  and  thus  we  had  a  fourth  rescue  from  the  very  jaws  of 
death. 

Day  after  day  passed  away,  and  still  we  were  the  miserable,  half- 
starved,  half-suffocated,  though  unknown  prisoners  of  this  Demon  gang, 
holding  our  lives,  as  it  were,  by  a  thread,  hanging,  with  scarce  the  dis- 
tance of  a  pace,  between  time  and  eternity,  and  counting  every  pro- 
longed moment  of  our  existence  as  a  miracle.  Girod  at  this  period 
rarely  dared  to  visit  us.  He  came  only  when  the  business  of  the  ship 
actually  sent  him.  The  cabin  above  was  now  occupied  at  night  by  the 
captain  and  some  of  his  most  depraved  associates,  so  that  small  allevia- 
tion of  our  fears — small  relaxation  from  our  comfortless  position — -small 
occasion  of  addressing  a  few  consolatory  words  to  each  other,  was 
afforded  us  either  by  day  or  by  night.  At  length.  I  began  to  fear  that 
Margaret  would  sink  under  the  confined  air,  and  the  constant  excite- 
ment. Her  breath  became  short  and  difficult.  The  blood  passed 
through  her  veins  in  feverish,  yet  feeble  and  intermittant  pulsation. 
It  was  agony  indeed  to  feel  her  convulsed  frame,  and  hear  her  faintly- 
drawn  and  dying  breath,  and  know  that  I  could  not  carry  her  into  the 
reviving  breezes  of  heaven,  nor  afford  a  single  alleviation  of  her  suffer- 
ing, without  at  once  snapping  that  thread  of  life  which  was  now  wearing 

4  N  2 


652  The  De?non  Ship.  [DEC 

away  by  a  slow  and  lingering  death.  At  length  her  respiration  began 
to  partake  of  the  loud  and  irrepressible  character  which  is  so  often  the 
precursor  of  dissolution.  She  deemed  her  hour  drawing  on,  yet  feebly 
essayed,  for  my  sake,  to  stifle  those  last  faint  moans  of  expiring  nature 
which  might  betray  our  concealment.  I  became  sensible  that  the  latter 
could  not  much  longer  remain  a  secret,  and,  with  a  strange  calmness, 
made  up  my  mind  to  the  coming  decisive  hour.  I  supported  Margaret's 
head,  poured  a  faltering  prayer  into  her  dying  ear,  wiped  the  death- 
dews  from  her  face,  and  essayed  to  whisper  expressions  of  deep  and 
unutterable  affection.  Happily  for  us  there  was  such  a  tempest  of  wind 
and  sea,  as  drowned  in  its  wild  warfare  the  expiring  sighs  of  Margaret. 
At  this  moment  Girod  descended  to  the  hold.  He  put  his  finger  on  his 
lips  significantly,  and  then  whispered  in  French — te  Courage — Rescue! 
There  is  a  sail  on  our  weather  bow.  She  is  yet  in  the  offing.  Our  cap- 
tain marks  her  not ;  but  I  have  watched  her  some  time  with  a  glass, 
and  if  she  be  not  a  British  sloop  of  war,  my  eyes  and  the  glass  are 
deceivers  together."  I  grasped  Margaret's  hand.  She  faintly  returned 
the  pressure,  but  gently  murmured,  "  Too  late."  Ere  the  lapse  of  a 
moment  it  was  evident  that  our  possible  deliverer  was  discovered  by 
the  Demon  crew,  for  we  could  hear  by  the  bustle  of  feet  and  voices  that 
the  ship  was  being  put  about ;  and  the  ferocious  and  determined  voice 
of  the  buccaneer  chief  was  heard,  even  above  the  roar  of  the  tempest, 
giving  prompt  and  fierce  orders  to  urge  on  the  Demon.  Girod  promised 
to  bring  us  more  news,  and  quitted  us.  The  rush  of  air  into  the  hold 
seemed  to  have  revived  Margaret,  and  my  hopes  began  to  rise.  Yet  it 
was  too  soon  evident  that  the  motion  of  the  vessel  was  increased,  and 
that  the  crew  were  straining  every  nerve  to  avoid  our  hoped-for 
deliverer.  After  a  while,  however,  the  stormy  wind  abated ;  the  ship 
became  steadier,  and  certainly  made  less  way  in  the  wraves.  A  voice 
over  our  head  said  distinctly  in  French — "  The  sea  is  gone  down,  and 
the  sloop  makes  signal  to  us  to  lay  too."  A  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed, 
and  the  voice  again  said,  "  The  sloop  chaces  us  !"  Oh!  what  inexpres- 
sibly anxious  moments  were  those.  I  felt  that  aid  must  come,  and  come 
speedily,  or  it  would  arrive  too  late.  We  could  discover  from  the  vary- 
ing cries  on  deck  that  the  sloop  sometimes  gained  on  the  Demon,  while 
at  others  the  pirate  got  fearful  head  of  her  pursuer.  At  length  Girod 
descended  to  the  hold.  "  The  die  is  cast !"  he  said  in  his  native  lan- 
guage. "  The  sloop  gains  fast  on  us.  We  are  about  to  clear  the  deck 
for  action." — "  God  be  praised,"  I  ejaculated. — "  Amen  !"  responded  a 
faint  and  gentle  voice. — "  Do  not  praise  Him  too  soon,"  said  Girod, 
shrugging  his  shoulders  ;  "  our  captain  is  preparing  for  a  victory.  The 
Demon  has  mastered  her  equals,  ay,  and  her  superiors,  and  this  sloop  is 
our  inferior  in  size  and  numbers.  The  captain  does  not  even  care  to 
come  to  an  accommodation  with  her.  He  has  hoisted  the  Demon  flag, 
and  restored  her  name  to  the  stern/' — <fBut  has  his  motley  crew," 
whispered  I,  anxiously,  "  ever  encountered  a  British  foe  of  equal 
strength/' — "  I  cannot  tell — I  cannot  tell ;  I  have  been  in  her  but  a 
short  time,  and  will  be  out  of  her  on  the  first  occasion,"  said  Girod,  as  he 
hastily  quitted  us.  We  now  heard  all  the  noise  of  preparation  for  an 
engagement.  The  furniture  was  removed  from  the  cabin  above  us,  and 
the  cabin  itself  partially  thrown  open  to  the  deck.  Cannon  were  lashed 
and  primed;  concealed  port-holes  opened,  ahd  guns  placed  at  them. 
Seeing  ultimate  escape  impossible,  the  captain  took  in  sail,  and  deter- 


1830.]  The  Demon  Skip.  653 

mined  to  give  his  vessel  the  advantage  of  awaiting  the  foe  in  an  impos- 
ing state  of  preparation  for  action.  He  harangued  his  men  in  terms 
calculated  to  arouse  their  brute  courage,  and  excite  their  cupidity.  I 
confess  I  now  almost  began  to  tremble  for  the  gallant  little  vessel,  whose 
crew  seemed  thus  bravely  pressing  on  to  their  own  destruction  ;  I  began 
to  fear  that  they  would  be  powerless  to  rescue  her  in  whose  life  my  own 
seemed  bound  up.  But  what  were  my  feelings  when  I  heard  the  cap- 
tain retire  to  that  part  of  the  vessel  which  had  been  the  countess's  cabin, 
and  there  take  a  solemn  and  secret  oath  of  his  principal  shipmates,  that 
they  would,  if  they  were  boarded  by  a  successful  enemy,  scuttle  the 
Demon,  and  sink  her,  and  her  crew,  and  her  captors,  in  one  common 
grave.  It  appeared,  then,  that  either  the  failure,  or  the  success  of  the 
sloop,  would  alike  seal  our  destruction. 

Not  a  ray  of  light  now  penetrated  through  the  chinks  of  the  trap-door, 
and  from  the  heavy  weights  which  had  fallen  over  it,  I  was  inclined  to 
think  that  shot,  or  even  cannon-balls,  had  been  placed  over  the  mouth 
of  our  prison.  We  might,  therefore,  in  vain  attempt  to  shew  ourselves, 
or  make  our  voices  heard  amid  the  din  of  war,  should  our  allies  (doomed 
to  a  watery  tomb  even  in  the  midst  of  conquest)  prove  victorious.  Yet 
condemned,  as  we  seemed,  alike  by  the  fall  or  the  triumph  of  our  self- 
supposed  murderers,  there  was  something  in  the  oath  imposed  by  the 
captain  which,  as  it  shewed  a  feeling  of  doubt  as  to  the  result,  inspired 
me  with  hope.  Besides,  the  noise  of  preparation  for  action  had  in  it 
something  inspiriting  to  my  ear ;  and  as  it  effectually  drowned  every 
other  sound,  I  drew  Margaret  from  behind  the  sacking  into  the  most 
roomy  part  of  our  wooden  dungeon  ;  endeavoured,  by  fanning  her  with 
her  kerchief,  to  create  a  little  freshness  of  air  around  her  •'  and  spoke  to 
her  aloud,  in  the  voice  of  hope  and  courage.  It  was  a  terrible  thing,  in 
such  an  anxious  moment,  to  be  unable  to  see  or  hear  distinctly  aught  on 
which  our  fate  depended.  I  listened  anxiously  for  a  signal  of  the  sloop's 
nearing  us.  At  length  a  ship-trumpet,  at  a  distance,  demanded,  safe  and 
unhurt,  the  persons  of  Colonel  Francillon,  the  Countess  of  Falcondale, 
and  two  female  domestics.  It  was  then  evident  that  the  pirate's  strata- 
gem at  Malta  had  transpired.  The  Demon's  trumpet  made  brief  and 
audacious  reply  : — "  Go  seek  them  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea."  A  broad- 
side from  the  sloop  answered  this  impudent  injunction,  and  was  followed 
by  a  compliment  in  kind  from  the  Demon,  evidently  discharged  from  a 
greater  number  of  guns.  The  volleys  continued.  Our  vessel  reeled  to 
and  fro,  and  sometimes  half  rose  out  of  the  water  with  the  violence  of 
the  shocks  she  received.  I  heard  her  masts  cracking,  and  her  timbers 
flying  in  every  direction.  Yet  still  her  men  continued  their  yell  of 
triumph,  and  her  guns  seemed  to  be  served  with  as  much  spirit  as  ever. 
At  length  the  firing  on  both  sides  appeared  to  slacken.  One  of  the  ves- 
sels was  evidently  approaching  the  other  for  the  purpose  of  boarding. 
But  which  was  the  successful  adventurer  ?  My  heart  almost  ceased  to 
beat  with  intense  expectation.  The  heavy  grinding  of  the  two  ships 
against  each  others'  sides  was  soon  heard ;  and,  not  an  instant  after,  the 
shouts  of  the  sloop's  crew  rose  triumphantly  over  our  heads.  Long  and 
desperately  raged  the  combat  above  us ;  but  the  pirates'  yell  waxed 
fainter  and  fainter ;  while  the  victorious  shouts  of  the  British  seamen, 
mixed  with  the  frequent  and  fearful  cry,  "  No  quarter,  no  quarter  to  the 
robbers  !"  became  each  instant  louder  and  more  triumphant.  At  length 
every  sound  of  opposition  from  the  Demon  crew  seemed  almost  to  cease. 


654  The  Demon  Ship.  [DEC. 

But  there  was  still  so  much  noise  on  deck,  that  I  in  vain  essayed  to  make 
my  Voice  heard ; — and  for  the  trap-door,  it  defied  all  my  efforts — it  was 
immovable.  At  this  crisis,  the  ship,  which  had  hitherto  been  springing 
and  reeling  with  the  fierce  fire  she  had  received  from  her  adversary,  and 
the  motion  of  her  own  guns,  suddenly  began  to  settle  into  an  awful  and 
suspicious  quiescence.  But  the  victors  were  apparently  too  busy  in  the 
work  of  retribution  to  heed  this  strange  and  portentous  change.  /  per- 
ceived, however,  only  too  clearly  that  the  Demon  was  about  finally  to 
settle  for  sinking.  After  the  lapse  of  a  few  seconds,  it  seemed  that  the 
conquerors  themselves  became  at  last  aware  of  the  treacherous  gulph 
that  was  preparing  to  receive  them  ;  and  a  hundred  voices  exclaimed, 
"  To  the  sloop  ! — to  the  sloop  !  The  ship  is  going  down — the  ruffians 
are  sinking  her  !"  I  now  literally  called  out  until  my  voice  became  a 
hoarse  scream.  I  struck  violently  against  the  top  of  our  sinking  dun- 
geon. I  pushed  the  trap-door  with  my  whole  force.  All  was  in  vain. — 
I  heard  the  sailors  rushing  eagerly  to  their  own  vessel,  and  abandoning 
that  of  the  pirates  to  destruction.  I  took  Margaret's  hand,  and  held  it 
up  towards  heaven,  as  if  it  could  better  than  my  own  plead  there  for  us. 
All  was  silent.  Not  a  sound  was  heard  in  the  once  fiercely-manned 
Demon,  save  the  rushing  of  the  waters  in  at  the  holes  where  she  had 
been  scuttled  by  her  desperate  crew.  It  almost  seemed  that — determined 
not  to  survive  her  capture — she  were  eager  to  suck  in  the  billows  which 
would  sink  her  to  oblivion.  At  last,  as  if  she  had  received  her  fill,  she 
began  to  go  down  with  a  rapidity  which  seemed  to  send  us,  in  an  instant, 
many  feet  deeper  beneath  the  waves,  and  I  now  expected  every  moment 
to  hear  them  gather  over  the  deck,  and  then  overwhelm  us  for  ever. 
I  uttered  a  prayer,  and  clasped  Margaret  in  my  arms.  But  no  voice,  no 
sigh,  proceeded  from  the  companion  of  my  grave.  Her  hand  was  cold, 
and  her  pulse  quiet ;  and  I  deemed  that  the  spirit  had  warred  with,  and 
overcome  its  last  enemy,  ere  our  common  grave  yawned  to  receive  us. 

Voices  were  heard ;  weights  seemed  to  be  removed  from  the  trap-door  ! 
It  was  opened ;  and  the  words  "  Good  Heaven  !  the  fellow  is  right  ; 
they  are  here,  sure  enough !"  met  my  almost  incredulous  ear.  I  beheld 
a  British  officer,  a  sailor  or  two,  and  Girod  with  his  hands  tied  behind 
him.  I  held  up  my  precious  burthen,  who  was  received  into  the  arms 
of  her  compatriots,  and  then,  like  one  in  a  dream,  sprang  from  my  long 
prison.  Perhaps  it  might  be  well  that  Margaret's  eye  was  half-closed 
in  death  at  that  moment ;  for  the  deck  of  the  sinking  Demon  offered  no 
spectacle  for  woman's  eye.  There  lay  the  mangled  bodies  of  our  late 
dreaded  jailers,  their  fast-stiffening  countenances  still  retaining,  in  cold 
death  itself,  that  expression  of  daring  and  brute  ferocity  which  seemed 
effaceable  only  by  the  absolute  decomposition  of  their  hardened  features. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  scene  of  desolation  presented  by  that  deck,  lying 
like  a  vast  plank  or  raft  of  slaughtered  bodies,  almost  level  with  the 
sea,  whose  waters  dashed  furiously  over  it,  and  then  receding  from  their 
still  ineffectual  attempt  to  overwhelm  the  vessel,  returned  all  dyed  with 
crimson  to  the  ocean ;  while  the  sun,  setting  in  a  stormy  and  angry  sky, 
threw  his  rays — for  the  last  time — in  lurid  and  fitful  gleams  on  the 
ruined  Demon. 

A  deep,  and,  as  it  seemed,  long-pent  sigh  escaped  from  the  bosom  of 
Margaret  when  the  fresh  breath  of  heaven  first  played  on  her  white 
cheek.  I  would  have  thanked  her  brave  deliverers — have  gazed  on  her 
to  see  if  life  still  returned — but  the  sea  was  gaining  fast  on  us,  and  I  had 


1830.]  The  Demon  Ship.  655 

lost  the  free  use  of  my  limbs  by  my  lengthened  and  cramped  confine-' 
ment.  To  one  human  being,  however,  I  did  not  forget  my  gratitude. 
As  we  hurriedly  prepared  to  spring  into  the  boat,  I  saw  that  Girod's 
pinioned  members  refused  him  the  prompt  aid  necessary  for  effecting  an 
escape  in  such  a  moment.  I  returned,  seized  a  bloody  cutlass  that  lay 
on  deck,  and,  without  leave  of  the  officer,  cut  at  once  through  the  bonds 
which  confined  our  first  deliverer. — "  This  man,"  I  said,  as  we  seated 
ourselves,  "  has  been  the  instrument  of  Heaven  for  our  preservation.  I 
will  make  myself  answerable  for  his  liberty  and  kind  treatment."  Girod 
seized  my  hand,  which  received  a  passionate  Gallic  salute.  Our  sailors 
now  rowed  hard  to  avoid  being  drawn  into  the  vortex  of  the  sinking 
ship.  Merciful  God  !  we  were  then  out  of  the  Demon  !  I  supported 
Margaret  in  my  arms  ;  and  as  I  saw  her  bosom  again  heave,  a  renewed 
glow  of  hope  rushed  to  my  heart. 

We  had  not  been  on  board  the  sloop  many  minutes  ere,  slowly  and 
awfully,  the  Demon  sank  to  the  same  eternal  grave  to  which  she  had  so 
often  doomed  her  victims.  We  saw  the  top  of  the  main-mast,  which 
had  borne  her  fatal  flag  above  the  waters,  tremble  like  a  point  on  their 
very  surface,  and  then  vanish  beneath  them.  A  frightful  chasm  yawned 
for  a  moment — it  was  then  closed  by  the  meeting  waves,  which  soon 
rolled  peacefully  over  the  vessel  they  had  engulphed ;  and  the  Demon, 
so  long  the  terror  of  the  seas  and  the  scourge  of  mariners,  disappeared 
for  ever. 

Here  abruptly  terminated  my  relative's  narration  ;  and  if  any  reader 
should  have  felt  just  sufficient  interest  in  it  to  wonder  whether  Margaret 
died,  and  whether  Colonel  Francillon  attended  her  funeral  as  chief- 
mourner  ;  or  whether,  after  all,  she  recovered,  and  was  married  to  the 
Colonel, — I  can  only  briefly  say,  that  the  sloop  put  into  Naples,  where 
the  Countess  was  soon  placed  under  a  skilful  physician.  He  pronounced 
her  case  hopeless,  and  my  relative  had  only  the  melancholy  satisfaction 
of  reflecting  that  her  dying  hour  would  be  peaceful,  and  her  lovely 
remains  honoured  by  Christian  burial.  She  passed  from  the  hands  of 
her  physician  into  those  of  the  British  ambassador's  chaplain ;  but  I  do 
not  think  it  could  have  been  for  the  purpose  of  religious  interment — as  I 
enjoyed,  for  nearly  forty  years  after  this  period,  the  inestimable  privi- 
lege of  calling  the  Colonel  and  the  Countess  my  revered  father  and 
mother  ! 


,      [    656    ]  [DEC. 

QUACKERY  PRACTICE,  AND  ST.  JOHN  LONG. 

No  sooner  has  Mr.  St.  John  Long  passed  through  the  ordeals  of  the 
courts  with  barely  the  singeing  of  his  whiskers,  than  we  find  him  proved 
to  have  been,  under  precisely  the  same*circumstances — to  use  the  gen- 
tlest terms — the  death  of  another  lady.  Forbearing  as  we  were  before 
the  trial,  from  pure  conscience,  our  scruples  vanish  on  this  repetition 
of  offence ;  and  we  shall  express  our  sentiments  plainly  on  his  atrocious 
practices.  A  severer  penalty  awaits  him  than  before — not,  indeed,  from 
the  reluctant  sentence  of  the  bench,  but  from  the  ready  and  indignant 
censure  of  the  world.  The  law  cannot  or  will  not  crush  him  ;  but  he 
is  within  reach  of  public  opinion,  which  will  and  must  brand  him  with 
infamy,  and  cast  him  off  with  the  scum  and  refuse  that  are  for  ever  man- 
tling upon  the  surface  of  society. 

To  look  for  any  effectual  penalty  from  the  criminal  courts  is  idle.  Of 
murder  he  cannot  be  proved  guilty,  in  the  legal  sense,  nor  in  any  equi- 
table construction.  He  is  a  quack,  in  the  coarsest  and  most  contemptu- 
ous sense  of  the  term  ;  but  murder  forms  no  part  of  his  plan.  Though 
death  often  ensues,  the  desire  to  produce  death  cannot  be  made  appa- 
rent. But  if  killing  be  not  always  murder,  it  is  only  when  committed 
inevitably  or  undesignedly,  that  the  laws  pronounce  it  innocent.  If  you 
kill  by  design  and  unjustifiably,  that  is  murder ;  if  you  kill  by  accident 
or  in  self-defence,  that  is  homicide,  and  no  offence ;  if  you  kill  in  a 
state  of  excitement,  upon  provocation,  that  is  manslaughter  ;  if  you  kill 
in  the  performance  or  prosecution  of  an  illegal  act,  that,  again,  is  man- 
slaughter ;  and  if,  even  in  the  pursuit  of  a  lawful  one,  you  kill  through 
want  of  care  and  caution,  that  also  is  held  to  be  manslaughter  sometimes. 
Fine,  imprisonment,  or  transportation,  are  the  penalties  for  each  of  these 
descriptions. 

Now,  it  is  obviously  under  the  last  alone — ambiguous  at  the  best — 
that  a  case  like  Mr.  Long's,  in  the  common  course  of  law,  can  be 
brought ;  and  we  see  how  readily,  where  the  absence  of  care  and  cau- 
tion is  clearly  proved,  the  verdict  of  a  jury,  when  the  judges  are  adverse, 
may  be  evaded  by  a  little  management  in  the  penalty.  Whether  man- 
slaughter be  an  offence  of  any  importance  or  not,  comes  thus  to  depend, 
not  upon  specific  facts,  but  upon  the  individual  prepossessions  of  the 
judges;  and  out  of  twelve  judges — or  fifteen,  we  believe,  now — we  can 
never  be  sure  that  two  will  think  alike.  One  will  acquit,  and  another 
condemn.  The  law  is  thus  good  for  nothing ;  it  is  operative  at  one 
moment,  and  not  at  another,  and,  of  course,  is  no  longer  calculated  to 
deter, — which  is  what  a  law  should  do,  or  do  nothing. 

But  the  case  of  a  medical  man  indicted  for  manslaughter  in  the  exer- 
cise of  his  profession,  has  some  peculiarities.  A  question  of  "  license" 
comes  in ;  and  there  is,  or  was,  a  special  provision  in  favour  of  the 
"  qualified"  practitioner.  Sir  Edward  Coke — the  great  oracle  of  the 
courts — states  that  the  law  declares  it  felony  when  an  tf  unlicensed  per- 
son undertakes  a  cure,  and  lets  the  patient  die" — referring  to  an  enact- 
ment of  Edward  III.,  to  which  Britton  apparently  appeals.  This  must 
imply  exemption  of  criminal  charge  for  the  licensed  party  ;  and,  indeed, 
the  common  language  of  law-books  is  that  a  regular  medical  man — which 
must  mean  the  licensed  practitioner — cannot  be  guilty  of  manslaughter  ; 
he  cannot  be  the  subject  of  a  criminal  action,  though  he  may  be  of  a 


1830.]  Quackery  Practice,  and  Si.  John  Long.  657 

civil  one  for  ignorance  or  neglect.  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  however,  seems  to 
have  seen  no  difference  between  license  and  no  license.  Drugs  and  salves 
— the  reason  he  gives — which,  however,  is  not  much  to  the  purpose — 
were  before  licenses  and  diplomas ; — nobody,  again,  undertaking  to  cure 
could  mean  to  kill ;  and  so  none  could  be  fairly  indictable  for  a  criminal 
offence.  Nine  times  out  of  ten,  the  judges  make  their  own  law.  With- 
out, however,  referring  further  to  remote  and  obsolete  cases,  we  find 
Lord  Ellenborough  insisting  upon  misconduct  as  the  gravamen  of  a 
charge  against  a  medical  man ;  as  if  ignorance  or  neglect  would  sub- 
stantiate a  case  of  manslaughter — with  license  or  without.  Baron  Hul- 
lock,  in  the  case  of  Van  Butchell,  expressly  claimed  the  privileges  of  the 
licensed  for  the  unlicensed ;  and  Baron  Garrow  seems  not  to  have  been 
aware  that  the  law  knew  of  any  such  distinction  :  the  irregular  man,  in 
his  estimation,  was  as  good  as  the  regular — the  unlicensed  bone-setter  of 
the  country  stood  in  the  same  circumstances  before  the  court,  as  to  privi- 
lege, if  not  importance,  with  the  president  of  the  college.  But  Bayley, 
who  is  considered  to  have  at  least  as  much  law  in  him  as  his  brother  of 
the  Exchequer,  not  long  ago,  on  a  charge  at  Lancaster,  maintained 
Coke's  doctrine  as  still  the  indisputable  law  of  the  land. 

And  beyond  all  reasonable  doubt,  such  is  the  intent  and  meaning  of 
the  law.  The  object  of  it  was  to  protect  the  public  against  ignorant 
pretenders.  By  the  law  of  the  land,  then,  Mr.  Long  was  clearly  guilty 
of  manslaughter  ;  he  was  not  a  man  of  medical  education  ;  he  was  not 
licensed  by  any  recognised  authority ;  and  the  patient  died  under  his 
hands.  This  was  enough  ;  yet,  in  spite  of  these  facts,  the  judges  were 
ready  to  dismiss  the  case ;  and  when  baffled  by  the  virtue  of  the  jury, 
and  annoyed  by  the  verdict,  were  resolved  to  take  the  sting  out  of  it — 
the  penalty  was  in  their  own  hands  ;  and  they  njied  a  man  who  was 
making  thousands,  two  hundred  and  fifty  pence,  or  pounds — it  makes 
no  difference — and  turned  him  free  upon  society,  to  seek  again,  like 
Satan  of  old,  whom  he  might  devour. 

Yet  in  all  this,  it  must  be  allowed,  the  judges  have  done — what  they 
but  rarely  do — gone  with  what  may  be  justly  termed  the  spirit  of  the 
age.  It  is  true,  great  indignation  existed  against  Mr.  Long  on  account 
of  the  miserable  fate  of  the  poor  young  lady,  and  especially  of  his  sel- 
fish and  unmanly  conduct;  but,  generally,  the  public  are  decidedly 
favourable  towards  irregular  professors,  and  certainly  very  little  disposed 
to  support  corporate  bodies,  invested  with  authority,  though  calculated 
specifically  for  the  general  security.  If  our  medical  corporations  en- 
forced their  undoubted  legal  rights,  no  irregular  person  could  practice 
with  impunity ;  but  they  dare  not  enforce  them ;  they  are  afraid  to 
encounter  a  clamour  so  readily  raised  against  them.  Any  man  who  sets 
them  at  defiance  is  almost  sure  of  meeting  with  a  sort  of  smiling  sym- 
pathy ;  and  that  encouragement  it  is,  open  or  covert,  which  enables  him 
to  baffle  all  attempts  to  put  him  down.  The  multitude,  besides,  great 
and  little,  have  a  sort  of  natural  penchant  for  quackery ;  they  are  always, 
indeed,  for  a  time,  the  ready  dupes  of  the  charlatan.  Any  one  who  pro- 
fesses to  do  what  nobody  else  has  thought  of,  is  sure  to  be  listened  to. 
So  profound,  too,  is  the  public  ignorance  upon  medical  topics,  that,  once 
quitting  the  regular  professors,  people  are  at  the  mercy  of  the  pretender; 
they  have  no  criterion  to  guide  their  own  judgments;  medicine  seems  to 
them  to  be  more  a  matter  of  intuition  than  of  observation — of  guess  than 
of  study — and  one  man  may  make  a  lucky  hit  as  well  as  another.  Wholly 

M.M.  New  Series VOL.  X.  No.  60.  4  O 


658  Quackery  Practice,  and  St.  John  Long.  £DEC. 

strangers  to  the  principles  of  the  science — with  no  confidence  in  any 
knowledge  of  their  own — they  are  never  sure  that  the  empiric  may  not, 
after  all,  be  the  wise  man ;  and  it  is  better  to  err  on  what  seems  to  Tbe 
the  safe  side.  Some  confounded  blunder,  on  the  part  of  the  quack, 
removes  the  prejudice,  and  he  is  laughed  out  of  the  world  ;  but  the  dupe 
is  as  liable  as  ever  to  fall  into  fresh  delusions. 

People  are  calling  out,  on  this  occasion,  for  more  law.  More  law, 
however,  is  not  really  wanted — there  is  already  more  than  can  be  en- 
forced. It  will  be  the  fate  of  new  laws,  if  new  ones  are  enacted.  The 
public  might  be  all  but  secured  against  excessive  ignorance  and  gross 
incompetency,  if  the  licensing  system  were  suffered  to  go  fairly  into 
execution,  coupled  with  a  power  of  carrying  cases  of  misconduct  into 
criminal  courts,  without  distinction,  licensed  or  unlicensed.  But  plainly, 
this  will  never  be  borne  with ;  the  general  feeling  is  a  desire  to  be  left 
at  liberty.  It  is  the  suggestion  doubtless  of  great  ignorance  and  greater 
presumption,  but  it  exists,  and  it  is  in  vain  to  pull  against  it.  Let  us 
choose  for  ourselves,  is  the  cry.  We — if  any  body — are  to  be  the  suf- 
ferers ;  we  have  confidence  in  Mr.  New-man,  and  none  in  Dr.  Old-fast. 
In  a  matter  so  individually  and  exclusively  concerning  ourselves,  why 
should  we  not  be  left  to  ourselves,  and  trusted  with  our  dearest  interests  ? 
Why  protect  us  in  spite  of  our  wishes?  Besides,  in  every  thing  else, 
all  the  world  agree  there  is  nothing  like  free  competition — the  public 
are  always  thus  best  served.  Why  should  it  not  be  the  same  in  medicine  ? 
The  best  energies  will  thus  be  called  into  action ;  the  best  workmen — 
the  best  practitioners  will  thus  be  found,  and  we  shall  all  reap  the 
benefit.  Privileged  physicians  and  surgeons  quickly  become,  like  close 
corporations,  susceptible  of  all  corruptions — the  spur  to  activity  is 
withdrawn — the  spring  relaxes — the  vigour  flags — the  public  are  drugged 
secundum  morem,  and  the  science  of  physic  sinks  into  the  art  of  phy- 
sicking. 

But  though  freedom  of  action  be  the  demand  of  the  day — freedom  of 
profession  on  the  one  hand,  and  liberty  of  choice  on  the  other  ;  though 
hostility  be  general  to  any  bold  and  effective  enforcement  of  law  for 
the  exclusion  of  impudent  and  perilous  quackery,  the  public  do  not 
desire  to  be  mere  anvils  for  any  to  hammer  upon — the  mere  subjects  of 
experiment — the  dull  dupes  of  pretension — no,  their  sole  quest  is  that 
of  talent  and  power ;  for  once  convinced  they  are  imposed  upon,  they 
will  quickly  recoil  and  spurn  the  impostor  from  them.  It  is  this 
readiness  to  turn  to  the  right-about  the  detected  pretender  to  superiority, 
which  presents  the  chance  and  means  of  finally  remedying  the  evils  of 
quackery.  That  remedy  is  mainly,  un,der  existing  circumstances, 
exposure  ;  and  to  this  remedy  we  shall  lend  a  helping  hand  by  glancing 
first  at  Mr.  Long's  book,  which  will,  we  think,  establish  the  man's 
consummate  ignorance,  and  next,  at  the  evidence  of  his  friends,  which 
will  go  far  to  prove  their  incompetence ;  and  together  will  shew  the 
imbecility  of  the  principle,  the  profligacy  of  the  man,  and  the  peril  of 
the  process. 

Within  the  last  half  century  quacks  have  swarmed.  Not  to  mention 
multitudes  of  minor  twinklers,  those  stars  of  greater  magnitude,  Mesmer, 
Graham,  and  Perkins,  must  have  been  heard  of  by  all.  Perkins  and  his 
tractors  are  within  the  personal  recollection  of  numbers.  The  princi- 
ple upon  which  Perkins  built  his  system  is  essentially  the  same  as  that 
of  Mr.  Long,  but  his  practice  was  sheer  mummery,  and  simply  harmless. 


1830.]  Quackery  Practice,  and  St.  John  Long.  659 

The  theory  of  both  is  thoroughly  gratuitous — it  assumes  the  existence  of 
certain  humours  in  the  system  as  the  sources  of  all  disease — extract  these 
humours,  and  at  once  the  disease  is  removed,  and  the  cause  of  it  for 
ever.  But  the  difference  between  these  worthies — and  that  is  a  mighty 
one — lies  in  the  mode  of  extracting.  Perkins  was  content  with  drawing 
a  couple  of  pieces  of  metal,  which  he  called  tractors,  along  the  surface 
of  the  body  ;  but  Mr.  Long  smokes  the  inside  to  drive  the  humour  to 
the  surface,,  and  then  blisters  to  force  it  through  the  pores.  The  one  was 
a  gentle  tickling,  that  depended  for  effect  on  exciting  emotion  through 
the  imagination — the  other  applies  a  scorching  embrocation  that  strips 
off  the  scarf-skin,  and,  where  the  susceptibility  is  great,  tears  and  cuts  to 
the  bone.  Perkins's  system  was  all  pure  fancy,  theory,  and  practice. 
The  principle  of  galvanism  was  a  novelty  in  his  day — the  mere  contact, 
of  two  different  metals  in  some  liquid,  elicited  what  has  since  been 
proved  to  be  the  electric  fluid.  Perkins  caught  at  this  discovery.  Two 
metals  applied  to  the  surface  of  a  body,  surcharged  with  a  certain 
vitiated  humour,  the  existence  of  which  he  took  for  granted,  might, 
he  conceived — seriously,  perhaps,  at  first — elicit  not  the  electric,  but 
what  was  more  to  his  purpose,  the  morbid  fluid.  Accordingly,  armed 
with  two  nice  little  pieces  of  metal,  and  applying  one  of  them  to  the 
seat  of  pain  in  the  patient,  he  drew  the  other  backwards  and  forwards 
over  the  neighbouring  regions,  till  he  finally  brought  it  in  contact  with 
the  stationary  piece,  and  suddenly  the  excited  and  gathered  fluid  was 
supposed  to  vanish  into  the  metals — taking  with  it,  of  course,  the  disease. 
Perkins  became  at  once  the  general  talk  of  his  day ;  the  mania  spread 
on  all  sides ;  but  the  delusion  gave  way,  as  all  charlatanerie  must  do,  to 
exposure.  Dr.  Haygarth,  of  Bath,  collected  his  patients  at  an  hospital ; 
he  produced  his  tractors,  bits  of  wood,  and  sealing-wax ;  the  operation 
proceeded  with  due  gravity,  and  numbers  affirmed  the  relief  they 
experienced  was  wonderful.  The  hoax  was  complete — it  was  published, 
and  Perkins  slunk  back  into  his  native  obscurity. 

But  Perkins  never,  that  we  know  of,  wrote  a  book.  Long  has  committed 
that  folly,  as  if  for  the  express  purpose — -so  full  of  absurdities  is  it — of 
exposing  his  own  perfect  ignorance  of  the  subjects  he  presumes  to  handle. 
He  has  neither  manner  nor  method — command  neither  of  language  nor 
logic — nothing  approaching  the  plausible — no  power  whatever  to  make 
the  worst  appear  the  better  reason.  His  theory  of  disease,  as  he  describes 
it,  is  simple  enough,  Heaven  knows.  He  discovers,  it  does  not  appear 
how,  that  the  source  of  all  disease  lurks  in  a  certain  acrid  humour, 
which  pervades  the  whole  frame.  Like  the  caloric  of  the  chemists,  it 
has  two  states — free  and  latent;  while  latent,  all  is  well;  when  active, 
it  manifests  its  malignity  by  disease.  All  diseases  spring  from  it — not 
merely  consumptions.  It  is  the  source  specifically  of  small-pox,  measles, 
hooping-cough,  and  c  analogous  inflammable'  disorders.  It  is  equally  the 
cause  of  insanity  of  all  kinds,  gout,  tic  douloureux,  cataract,  deafness, 
cholera  morbus,  crooked  spines — of  every  thing,  in  short,  except,  and 
the  author  himself  points  out  the  exceptions — mechanical  injury  and 
original  malformation.  The  extraction  of  this  same  malign  humour 
constitutes  the  cure  of  the  disease  ;  and  to  extract  is  the  one  object  of 
Mr.  Long's  practice.  The  effect  of  course  ceases  with  the  removal  of 
the  cause.  This  same  humour  is  a  congenital  production  ;  it  exists  in 
every  individual,  and  will  sooner  or  later  generate  disease,  till  the  whole 
is  extracted,  or  as  much  as  will  leave  too  little  behind  to  make  its 

4  O  2 


660  Quackery  Practice,  and  St.  John  Long.  QDEc. 

workings  visible.  The  sooner,  therefore,  the  extraction  is  accomplished 
the  better ;  every  disease  by  a  timely  exertion  may  be  nipped  in  the 
bud,  and  vaccination  itself  be  superseded.  You  may  thus  be  before- 
hand with  the  plague,  and  defy  contagion. 

The  "  humour"  itself  is  described  by  Mr.  Long  and  his  friends.  Mr. 
Long  vaguely  speaks  of  it  as  a  substance — a  fluid — an  inflamed  fluid  ; 
but  Lord  Ingestrie,  Long's  great  titled  patron,  more  intelligibly  states 
it  to  be  like  quicksilver — he  himself  witnessed  the  fluid,  like  quicksilver, 
extracted  twice  from  the  head  of  one  of  Mr.  Long's  patients.  It  is  just 
possible  this  may  have  been  an  extraordinary  case — the  patient  was 
obviously  of  a  mercurial  temperament ;  the  produce  of  the  noble  lord's 
own  head,  we  have  seen  it  stated,  on  sufficient  authority,  had  more  of  a 
leaden  aspect.* 

Long's  remedy,  again,  is  as  simple,  or  rather  as  single  as  his  theory ; 
he  gives  no  drugs — nothing  is  ever  internally  administered  by  him  but 
what  is  nourishing — nothing  but  what  may  taken  to  any  extent — nothing 
to  adults  which  children  might  not  take.  Oh  no !  humane  man  ;  he 
does  nothing  but  first  smoke  his  patients,  which  seems  to  be  merely  a 
piece  of  mummery,  just  to  inspire  them  with  a  sense  of  the  occult 
powers  of  the  operator ;  and  then  bathes  and  rubs  with  a  lotion  so  intrin- 
sically innocent  that  it  cannot  harm  an  infant — with  which  in  fact  ladies 
often  wash  their  hands,  and  even  rinse  their  mouths.  But  this  same 
lotion,  which  is  professedly  applied  to  open  the  pores,  to  givfe  egress  to 
the  universal  fluid,  where  it  meets  with  disease  strips  off  the  skin — is  of 
so  corrosive  a  quality  as  to  tear  and  rend,  and  decompose  all  it  comes  in 
contact  with.  Its  peculiar  virtue  is — it  will  fasten  upon  nothing  but 
disease. 

But  besides  this  grand  discovery,  he  lays  claim  to  the  detection  of 
numerous  errors  in  the  general  practice  of  the  profession — a  specimen 
or  two  will  help  to  measure  the  man's  calibre.  Vaccination  is  mis- 
chievous, because  it  only  adds  disease  to  disease — it  only  increases  the 
miserable  catalogue  of  human  ills.  Bleeding,  again,  must  do  more 
harm  than  good.  It  is  practically  mischievous,  and  logically  super- 
fluous. "  It  does  not  remove  the  deteriorated  quality."  It  merely 
takes,  as  he  phrases  it,  quantity  from  quantity,  and  not  quality  from 
quantity.  The  blood  that  remains  must  be  the  same  as  that  taken  away. 
Again,  medical  men  are  for  ever  administering  chemical  poisons,  which 
is  not  only  bad  in  practice  and  logic,  but  apparently  worse  as  to  the 
metaphysics  of  the  business.  "  Good,"  he  says,  with  all  solemnity, 
"  cannot  come  of  evil,  nor  nourishment  from  acrimonious  fluids ;  affi- 
nities cannot  be  generated  by  contraries,  nor  can  that  which  irritates 
soothe.  What  healthful  union  can  there  be  between  mercury,  prussic 
acid,  henbane,  digitalis,  acetate  of  lead,  sulphuric  acid,  nitrous  acid — 
and  flesh  and  blood  ?"  The  interrogative  is  supposed  to  carry  with  it 
its  own  triumphant  reply.  Some  profound  aphorisms — the  distinct 
result  of  his  own  personal  experience — are  scattered  over  the  pages ; 
— such  as  the  "  constitution  is  not  to  be  undermined  ;"  "  no  remedies  are 
to  be  applied  which  are  worse  than  the  disease/'  But  enough  of  this — 
the  book  furnishes,  every  page  of  it,  proofs  of  unparalleled  ignorance — 

*  Medical  Gazette— tine  able  and  indefatigable  editor  of  which  has  laboured 
zealously  to  expose  Long's  measureless  impudence.  We  have  been  much  indebted 
to  him. 


1830.]  Quackery  Practice,  and  St.  John  Long.  661 

the  man  contradicts  point-blanc,  and  by  arguments  perfectly  childish, 
some  of  the  best  established  principles  of  the  science  of  medicine. 

Nevertheless,  it  will  be  urged  probably — he  has  performed  numerous 
cures,  and  has  experienced  few  failures.  We  do  not  deny  that  the 
rough  discipline  to  which  his  patients  were  subjected  may  have  produced 
on  some  of  them  salutary  effects  ;  but  we  do  not  believe  a  tithe  of  the 
cures  to  which  he  lays  claim — and  as  to  the  failures,  we  know  little 
about  them  at  present.  More,  we  doubt  not,  will  come  to  light.  Long's  book 
is  more  than  half  filled  with  testimonials,  zealously  collected  by  his  friend 
Lord  Ingestrie,  who  has  furnished  a  satisfactory  measure  of  his  own  intel- 
lect— they  are  obviously  got  up  for  effect.  Numerous  friends  presented 
themselves  at  the  inquest,  and  again  at  the  trial — some  of  them  of  rank, 
but  none  of  them  so  distinguished  as  to  give  any  weight  to  their  opi- 
nions ;  and  as  to  questions  of  fact  relative  to  morbid  matters,  it  is  not 
every  body  that  can  either  detect  or  detail  them.  So  much  emphasis, 
however,  is  laid  on  this  evidence,  that  it  may  seem  to  demand  some 
consideration — it  is  essentially  of  so  little  value,  that  it  scarcely  de- 
serves it. 

First  comes  a  young  lady  in  a  carriage  with  shewy  appointments — 
but  alone,  it  will  be  observed — no  gentleman  to  protect  her  in  such  a 
scene — no  female  companion  to  support  her.  No  ;  her  father,  mother, 
brother,  and  sister,  aunts  and  cousins,  we  believe,  all  died  of  the  disease, 
from  the  jaws  of  which  Mr.  Long  rescued  her,  after  she  had  been  given 
up  by  all  the  faculty.  None  of  the  said  faculty,  however,  bear  testi- 
mony to  the  fact.  The  young  lady,  according  to  the  reports,  had  been 
tattooed,  almost  every  inch  of  her,  by  Mr.  Long,  though  the  "  marks" 
were  now  but  slight.  She  had  been  Mr.  Long's  patient  two  years,  and 
had  long  been  cured.  Nevertheless,  like  most  of  the  witnesses,  she  had 
seen  Miss  Cashin  at  Mr.  Long's.  How  came  that  about  ?  Mr.  Long's 
house,  it  seems,  was  quite  a  house  of  call  for  all  the  old  patients — they 
came  in  crowds — they  were  employed  in  encouraging  the  new  ones — 
washing  their  hands  in  the  mixture — putting  it  in  their  mouths,,  &c. 
Chocolate  and  sandwiches  were  circulating — every  thing  was  done  to 
make  the  house  agreeable  to  the  ladies — it  was  the  nicest  lounge  in  the 
world. 

A  gentleman,  who  calls  himself  a  solicitor  at  Brighton,,  states  his  case, 
with  evident  knowledge  of  what  he  was  talking  about,  as  one  of  debi- 
lity, arising  from  a  neglected  wound.  The  wound  was,  nevertheless, 
in  a  highly  inflamed  state.  The  universal  lotion  was  most  successful, 
and  so  convinced  was  the  patient  of  its  efficacy,  that,  recollecting  his 
digestion  was  none  of  the  best  at  all  times,  he  bethought  him,  if  the 
lotion  was  good  for  a  wound,  it  might  be  good  too  for  a  feeble  digestion 
— the  good  people  about  him  at  Mr.  Long's  telling  him  all  the  while 
wonders  of  its  catholic  powers.  Accordingly,  he  applied  it  forthwith 
to  his  chest,  having  some  notion  the  stomach  was  thereabouts,  and  none 
of  any  other  digestive  organ — and  scarcely  was  the  rubbing  over,  than 
he  found  himself  in  a  state  to  eat  a  shoulder  of  mutton — and  he  that  can 
eat  that,  can,  it  may  be  presumed,  eat  anything. 

Then  comes  Mrs.  General  Sharp,  who  assures  the  coroner,  she  was 
decidedly  consumptive.  Sir  Anthony  Carlisle,  and  other  eminent  medi- 
cal men,  considered  her  case  hopeless.  With  Mrs.  Sharp  appears  the 
General,  her  caro  sposo,  to  confirm  all  she  says,  and  especially  as  to 
Sir  Anthony's  opinion.  Sir  Anthony  told  him  plainly  it  was  a  decay  of 


Quackery  Practice)  and  St.  John  Long.  [~DEC. 

the  system  generally — even  the  bones  were  decaying.  None  of  the  other 
witnesses  mention  the  names  of  the  medical  men  who  in  despair  had 
given  them  up,  or  turned  them  over  to  Mr.  Long.  The  general  and  his 
lady  were  precipitate  enough  to  quote  Sir  Anthony,  and  what  was  the 
consequence?  Why  Sir  Anthony  denied  any  particular  knowledge  of  the 
case — he  once  visited  the  lady,  and  found  her  in  a  state  of  lassitude  after 
sitting  up  late  in  a  crowded  party  the  night  before — received  his  fee,  and 
saw  her  no  more. 

Somebody  from  Kentish  Town,  in  the  East  India  Company's  Service, 
had  been  afflicted  from  his  childhood  with  complaints  in  his  throat. 
No  medical  testimony  is  alleged,  nor  any  medical  name  mentioned  or 
appealed  to.  For  a  long  time,  it  seems,  there  was  no  getting  at  the 
lurking  and  offending  fluid,  with  all  the  rubbing  and  scrubbing  at  Mr. 
Long's — the  confiding  patient  rubbed  with  all  his  might,  but  not  a  drop 
could  be  elicited — head,  chest,  neck,  it  was  all  in  vain — still  he  was 
better  at  every  rub.  At  last  Mr.  Long  told  him  to  apply  it  to  the  first 
vertebrae  of  the  neck,  where  he  never  knew  it  fail ;  and  to  preclude  the 
possibility  of  failure,  he  rubbed  him  with  his  own  hand,  and  soon 
forced  out  the  unwilling  fluid  in  the  required  quantity — about  half  a 
pint,  we  observe,  by  his  book — how  it  is  measured  does  not  appear. 
Who  is  to  believe  in  the  identity  of  the  lotion  in  this  case  ? 

The  Surgeon- General  of  Jamaica — of  course  put  forward  as  a  grand 
authority — was  a  patient  of  Mr.  Long's.  But  he  is  also  plainly  a  crony, 
and  even  lives  at  Mr.  Long's.  In  his  opinion,  the  lotion  is  perfectly 
innocent — he  applied  it  to  his  eyes — and  this  he — a  surgeon — pronounces 
of  wrhat  is  manifestly  a  powerful  irritant — a  corrosive  and  scorching 
agent.  But  we  give  no  credit  to  the  identity. 

Lady  Ormond  is  one  of  the  devotees  at  Mr.  Long's  shrine.  She 
washes  her  hands  in  the  lotion,  and,  being  as  sound  as  a  roach  herself, 
it  takes  no  hold.  Her  daughter  has  been  rubbed  for  months  for  a  vio- 
lent headache.  Mr.  Long  cured  her ;  but  she  still  attends — a  proof  it 
might  seem  that  she  is  not  cured  —  but  she  attends  probably  for 
enjoyment — for  the  sake  of  the  refreshing  sensations,  as  another  of  the 
witnesses  stated,  who  confessed  nothing  was  the  matter  with  her.  Lady 
Ormond  said  her  daughter  still  goes  to  Mr.  Long's  temple,  and  will  go 
— adding,  in  a  thorough-going  spirit,  so  shall  all  my  children,  whenever 
any  thing  is  the  matter  with  them. 

Mrs.  Ottley  is  quite  at  home  at  Mr.  Long's.  Well  or  ill,  all  her 
family,  young  and  old,  dabble  in  this  precious  liquid — the  scent  is  rather 
agreeable  than  otherwise.  Upon  herself  its  virtue  is  not  very  percep- 
tible. Nevertheless,  after  constantly  using  it  for  two  months,  such  was 
the  result,  that  the  medical  men  who  had  previously  attended  her 
acknowledged  she  was  better.  Mr.  Long  has  different  modes  of  con- 
ciliating his  patients — of  making  his  house  and  treatment  attractive. 
Mrs.  Ottley  never  had  any  presents  of  wine  or  whiskey — tea  was  either 
more  appropriate,  or  more  to  her  taste,  and  she  accordingly  had  some 
choice  gunpowder. 

Mr.  Prendergast  has  the  weight  and  dignity  of  an  M.P.,  and,  withal, 
a  most  unreasoning  credulity — to  stamp  the  value  of  his  testimony.  He 
had  what  he  is  pleased  to  designate  a  determination  of  blood  to  the  head 
— probably  mistaking  the  technical  sense  of  the  term  altogether.  He 
was  found  to  have  the  offending  fluid  in  great  abundance.  Mr.  Long 
applied  the  lotion  late  in  the  evening,  and  in  the  night  the  patient  was 


1830.]  Quackery  Practice,  and  St.  John  Loiig.  663 

half  deluged  by  the  effusion.  Mr.  Prendergast  has  some  peculiar 
notions  on  the  subject  of  testimony — an  opinion  upon  oath  is  something 
new.  He  had  tried  to  persuade  Mr.  Vesey  Fitzgerald  to  consult  Mr. 
Long,  but  his  persuasive  were  like  his  other  powers — not  very  efficient 
— Mr.  Vesey  Fitzgerald  declined  ;  "  but  my  opinion  on  oath  is/'  says 
Mr.  Prendergast,  "  that  had  he  been  rubbed,  he  might  have  been  able 
to  preside  at  the  Board  of  Trade  at  this  moment !"  Mr.  Prendergast 
never  knew  any  lady  but  Miss  Cashin  die,  meaning  of  those  who  had 
had  little  the  matter  with  them.  To  such  as  had  been  given  up  by 
their  medical  advisers,  and  were  evidently  in  a  desperate  state,  Mr. 
Long  was  in  the  habit  of  saying  he  -would  do  his  best.  Now  Mr.  Long, 
on  the  testimony  of  all  his  patients,  had  but  one  remedy  for  every  thing 
— what  then  could  doing  his  best  mean  ?  The  repetition  of  the  phrase 
betrays  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Prendergast  a  credulity,  that  would  have 
taken  him  to  Graham,  or  Mesmer,  or  Perkins. 

We  have  had  some  respect,  little  as  it  has  been  of  late,  for  Sir  Francis 
Burdett,  and  scarcely  suspected  him  capable  of  making  so  very  pitiful 
an  appearance  as  he  did  at  the  Inquest.  To  lend  himself,  as  a  cat's- 
paw,  to  a  great  man  is  something  so  deplorable,  that  we  willingly  pass 
him  by— his  testimony  was  not  of  the  slightest  worth,  and  it  is  painful 
to  dwell  on  what  is  at  once  grovelling  and  ineffective. 

A  Mr.  Braithwaite,  an  honest  engineer,  seems  to  have  had  an  extra- 
ordinary disease — a  wasting  of  the  limbs  ;  and  believes,  apparently  with. 
a  thorough  devotion,  that  Mr.  Long,  in  fifty  days,  restored  them  to  their 
original  dimensions.  By  the  way,  somebody  else  deposes,  that  his 
lungs  grew  under  Mr.  Long's  operations.  Mr.  Braithwaite  was  asked 
whether  his  confidence  in  Mr.  Long's  remedies  was  at  all  shaken  by  the 
death  of  Miss  Cashin — not  at  all,  quite  the  contrary — so  that  a  death 
seems,  in  his  opinion,  to  have  been  desirable — to  test  the  power  of  the 
remedy. 

Colonel  Campbell  speaks  for  his  daughter.  She  had  what  he  terms 
an  affection  of  the  hip ;  which  affection,  as  he  states  it,  forced  the  thigh 
from  the  socket ;  an  abscess  formed  in  the  hip-joint,  and  other  tumours 
on  the  leg.  Her  knee  turned  almost  to  dislocation,  and  the  toes  inclined 
inwards.  Was  this  case — possibly  relievable  by  mechanical  means — 
cured  by  Mr.  Long's  remedy  ?  Not  precisely — the  young  lady  cannot 
yet  walk — she  cannot  yet  bear  at  all  her  weight  upon  the  limb.  Yet  this 
case  figures  among  the  cures. 

These  are  the  testimonies  of  the  leading  witnesses — all  of  them,  it 
will  be  observed,  proceeding  from  the  patients  themselves — from  unpro- 
fessional persons — knowing  nothing  of  the  nature  or  source  of  disease — 
incapable  of  discriminating,  and  utterly  unqualified  to  give  an  opinion 
as  to  any  specific  relation  between  the  disease  and  the  remedy.  In  the 
only  case — for  we  put  the  Surgeon-General  of  Jamaica  out  of  the  ques- 
tion— where  the  name  of  a  medical  man  was  brought  forward,  as  pre- 
viously acquainted  with  the  patient,  the  evidence  was  fairly  annihilated; 
and  we  scarcely  doubt  the  result  would  have  been  the  same  in  many 
other  cases,  which  are  said  to  have  been  given  up  by  eminent  medical 
practitioners — had  the  parties  been  rash  enoiigh  to  name  them.  Many 
of  the  witnesses  were  obviously  Mr.  Long's  friends,  and  others,  it  may 
safely  be  supposed,  having  orice  committed  themselves,  were  resolved 
to  go  through- stitch,  and  brazen  the  matter  out  to  the  last.  The  wit- 
nesses wrere  told  the  lotion  was  always  the  same,  on  all  occasions.  None 


664  Quackery  Practice,  and  St.  John  Long.  £DEC. 

of  them  eeem  even  to  have  doubted.  Many  of  them  affirmed  peremp- 
torily it  was  the  same,  and  affirmed,  we  may  say,  what,  in  half  the  cases, 
it  was  impossible  they  could  know. 

The  brand  of  ignorance  and  incompetence  is  ineffaceably  fixed  upon 
the  man.  In  his  visits  to  the  dying  Miss  Cashin — in  the  miserable  con- 
dition to  which  he  had  reduced  her — he  shewed  himself  to  be  wholly 
without  resource,  or  blundering  at  every  step.  He  ordered  port- wine 
for  a  loathing  stomach — which  for  hours  had  not  been  able  to  retain 
anything;  and  bade  them  expose  the  raging  wound  to  the  air  ;  he  took 
off  his  coat  and  called  for  lint,  and  made  no  use  of  it — he  was  all  abroad. 
He  inquired  what  the  attendant  had  done,  and  acquiesced  in  all  she 
suggested,  though  repeatedly  contradicting  his  own  recommendations — 
she  must  know  best,  he  said — as  she  truly  did.  Though  the  wound 
was  plainly  in  a  state  of  mortification,  he  affirmed  there  was  no  ground 
for  apprehension ;  it  was  just  what  he  washed  to  produce — it  was  his 
system — he  would  give  a  hundred  guineas  to  produce  the  same  effects 
on  other  patients ;  he  persisted  till  the  last  in  his  assurances  that  all 
was  right,  and  she  would  be  well  and  better  than  ever  she  had  been  in 
a  few  days. 

Now  all  this  may  have  been  ignorance,  and  nothing  more  ;  but  what 
shall  be  said  in  the  case  of  Mrs.  Lloyd  ?  Though  the  condition  of  the 
wounds  was  precisely  the  same — though  within  a  few  weeks  he  had 
seen  the  same  sad  effects,  and  knew  they  had  proved  fatal,  he  still  kept 
up  the  melancholy  farce,  and  made  the  same  confident  declarations. 
This  cannot  be  called  ignorance ;  it  was  sheer  brutality — a  resolute 
perseverance  in  wrong  and  mischief — a  desperate  clinging  to  his  own 
fame,  at  the  risk  and  even  certainty  of  another's  destruction.  Yet  this 
man  has  found  persons  willing  to  speak  to  his  humanity.  But  what 
persons  ?  Lords  and  ladies,  whose  rank  secures  to  them  attention  and 
deference,  but  who  are  the  last  persons  surely  to  speak  to  general  con- 
duct and  general  feeling. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  possible  efficiency  of  this  man's 
remedy  in  particular  cases — the  blind  pertinacity  with  which  he  applies 
it — the  utter  contempt  of  all  discrimination — the  total  ignorance  of  fatal 
symptoms — the  lack  of  expedient  on  unexpected  occasions  which  he 
shews — the  more  than  savage  spirit  with  which  he  perseveres,  must 
surely,  now  that  all  has  got  wind,  deter  the  most  credulous  and  con- 
fiding of  his  patients  and  admirers — they  must  be  ready  to  bless  them- 
selves for  their  escape,  and  eschew  for  ever  the  perils  of  committing 
themselves  to  similar  pretenders. 

Exposure,  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  term,  is  the  effectual  remedy 
against  quackery,  but  only  against  particular  quackeries.  The  true  and 
permanent  remedy  is  to  be  found  in  a  better  acquaintance  with  medical 
matters,  in  principle  especially,  on  the  part  of  the  public  generally. 
Some  knowledge  of  the  human  frame — of  its  organs  and  their  functions 
— of  the  qualities  and  the  workings  of  medicine — of  their  relations  and 
bearings  upon  disease:  these  must  come  to  be  subjects  of  education 
generally — the  concluding,  finishing  branches.  Chemistry  is  already 
a  favourite  pursuit.  It  is  surely  of  more  importance  to  know  something 
of  the  Art  of  Healing — the  management  of  our  own  personal  micro- 
cosm, than  can  be  one  half  of  the  ologies  and  ographies,  about  which  so 
much  parade  is  made,  so  much  time  wasted,  and  so  much  breath  spent  in 
vain.  It  is  surely  a  matter  of  higher  interest  and  concernment  to  know  on 


1830.]  Quackery  Practice,  and  Si.  John  Long.  6r!5 

what  ground,  with  what  view  and  expectation,  drugs  are  forced  down 
our  throats — why  the  blood  is  drained  from  our  veins — what  are  the  causes 
and  symptoms  of  disease,  organic  and  vascular — what  the  promptest  and 
most  appropriate  remedies,  than  to  learn  languages  which  we  never 
use,  or  study  nations  we  never  visit — whose  happiness  we  can  never 
influence,  nor  whose  weal  or  woe  can  affect  our  own. 

Mr.  Long's  reign  we  pronounce  to  be  at  an  end.  We  scarcely  wish 
to  see  him  brought  again  before  the  courts — riot  even  for  imprisonment 
or  exile.  Neither  is  the  appropriate  punishment — that  is  the  scorn  of 
the  world.  His  patients  are  themselves  committed — they  are  the  ac- 
complices of  his  crimes.  He  has  no  design  to  kill — it  could  never 
answer  his  purpose  to  kill,  though  a  single  instance,  by  a  kind  of  reaction, 
has  gathered  up  his  friends  to  his  support — it  might  be  an  accident. 
But  repetition  he  must  know,  would  ruin  him — he  is  effectually  ruined. 
Without  receivers  there  would  be  no  thieves,  and  without  dupes  and 
noodles  there  would  be  no  quacks.  The  women  are  in  these  cases  sure 
game.  They  readily  give  their  confidence  to  medical  men — they  dabble 
themselves  in  medicine,  and  readily  grow  fantastical  about  drugs  and 
salves.  Credulity  or  vanity  take  them  to  the  charlatan,  and  pride 
prompts  them  to  persevere.  If  of  rank,  they  are  ready  to  play  the 
protector — they  expect  to  ride  over  the  heads  of  the  laughing  vulgar, 
and  silence  the  public  voice  by  the  din,  and  clatter,  and  pretension  of 
station  and  title.  No  man  of  cultivated  understanding — no  man,  cer- 
tainly, whose  mind  has  been  turned  fairly  to  the  subject  of  disease  and 
the  treatment  of  it,  has  throughout  appeared  to  bear  an  atom  of  testi- 
mony in  Long's  favour.  His  own  practice  manifests  the  most  deplorable 
ignorance — while  his  book,  to  any  person  of  common  sense,  quite  inde- 
pendently of  any  medical  knowledge,  is  decisive  of  his  absolute  unfit- 
ness  for  conducting  a  hazardous  process.  He  has  suppressed  the  book 
— himself  has  taken  away  all  the  copies  from  his  publishers — what  jug- 
gling fiend  could  have  tempted  him  into  printing  at  all  ? 


A    WEEK    AT     CONSTANTINOPLE     IN     1829  \ 
BY    A    NAVAL    OFFICER. 

*'  Plus  on  voyage,  plus  on  est  content  de  son  pays  !" 

THE  Mediterranean  station,  with  its  lovely  climate,  splendid  relics  of 
antiquity,  and  their  accompanying  host  of  classical  recollections,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  varied  and  romantic  picture  of  human  life,  presented  by  the 
nations  who  inhabit  its  shores,  forming  a  singularly  beautiful  contrast 
with  the  more  staid  manners  and  customs  of  our  own  isle,  to  be  met 
with  in  our  garrisons  at  Gibraltar,  Malta,  and  the  Ionian  Islands,  has 
always  been  one  in  high  favour  with  the  Navy.  But  ever  since  the 
"  untoward"  event  of  Navarino,  and  the  commencement  of  hostilities 
between  Russia  and  the  Porte,  these  lovely  regions  have  assumed  an 
interest  of  a  higher  character,  from  the  almost  general  impression  that 
they  were  destined  to  become  once  more,  to  use  an  expression  of  Admi- 
ral de  Rigny's,  "  le  theatre  des  grands  evenemens :" — in  fact,  the 
strong  reinforcements  which  came  out  from  England  towards  the  middle 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  60.  4  P 


A  Week  at  Constantinople  in  1820.  [DEC. 

of  last  year,  and  the  rapid  concentration  of  our  squadrons  at  Vourla,  all 
combined  to  give  to  this  opinion  of  the  gallant  admiral  a  strong  colour- 
ing of  probability.  Intelligence  of  the  disasters  of  the  Ottoman  armies 
reached  us  in  quick  and  rapid  succession.  First  came  the  capture  of 
Silistria ;  next,  Diebitsch  had  out-manoeuvred  the  Grand  Vizier,  and 
nearly  destroyed  his  army  before  Chumla.  Ere  we  had  well  digested 
these  bulletins,  we  heard  that  the  formidable  chain  of  the  Balkan  was 
passed,  that  the  northern  eagle  floated  in  lordly  pride  along  the  towers 
of  Adrianople,  and  that  for  the  first  time  a  Cossack  hurra  had  been 
heard  almost  at  the  very  gates  of  old  Stamboul  itself.  Sailors  are  seldom 
profound  politicians ;  they  rarely  take  the  trouble  of  diving  beneath 
the  surface  of  any  thing  save  of  their  own  element ;  though  in  the 
present  instance  they  entertained  an  opinion  with  many  others  who  had 
the  advantage  of  being  nearer  the  fountain-head  of  affairs,  that  Great 
Britain  would  not  be  a  silent  spectator  of  the  game  of  war,  or  passively 
submit  to  the  completion  of  the  darling  plans  of  Russian  ambition  now 
in  full  development.  Some  feeling  of  this  kind  appeared  to  have  taken 
possession  of  the  minds  of  Count  Heyden  and  his  Russians  ;  for,  on  a 
sudden  they  kept  aloof  from  us,  a  circumstance  we  all  regretted,  for  their 
high-bred  courtliness  of  manner  had  rendered  them  universal  favourites. 
It  was  sometimes  amusing  to  listen  to  the  political  lucubrations  of  some 
of  our  pseudo-politicians.  With  the  youngsters  nothing  but  an  imme- 
diate dash  at  the  horse-marines,  as  they  had  nicknamed  the  Russians 
from  their  military  tenue  and  carriage,  could  save  Constantinople,  while 
the  views  of  their  fellows  of  a  larger  growth  in  the  gun-room  took  a 
wider  range.  After  destroying  the  Russian  Mediterranean  squadron, 
we  were  to  pass  into  the  Black  Sea,  and,  paying  a  similar  compliment 
to  Admiral  Greig's  division,  destroy  in  succession  the  naval  establish- 
ments at  Odessa  and  Sebastopol,  make  a  demonstration  on  the  right 
flank  of  the  Russians,  who,  cut  off  from  their  supplies,  would  be  forced 
back  behind  the  line  of  the  Danube,  and  the  tide  of  war  thus  rolled 
back  on  their  own  territory.  Fortunately,  however,  for  the  peace  of 
Europe,  though  to  the  utter  disappointment  of  our  projectors,  whose 
dreams  of  promotion  and  prize-money  were  most  provokingly  dissipated, 
the  fate  impending  over  the  Ottoman  empire  was  averted,  though 
whether  owing  to  Russian  moderation  or  British  interference  continues 
to  this  day  to  be  a  subject  of  violent  debate  among  them.  Our  ambas- 
sador returned  to  Constantinople,  and  preliminaries  of  peace,  as  all  the 
world  knows,  were  signed. 

For  some  time  subsequent  to  this  event,  we  had  been 'stationed  at 
Smyrna,  passing  our  time  most  agreeably  in  this  petit  Paris  du  Levant, 
and  losing  our  hearts  to  the  beautiful  Smyrnotes,  whose  lovely  counte- 
nances, heightened  by  the  effect  of  their  beautiful  and  classical  head- 
dresses, rendered  them  in  our  eyes  most  bewitching  objects,  when  we 
received  orders  to  carry  on  despatches  to  Constantinople.  For  any  other 
spot,  at  the  moment,  I  should  have  quitted  Smyrna  with  undisguised 
reluctance  ;  but  the  attrait  of  a  visit  to  the  Ottoman  capital  was  sufficient 
to  overpower  every  lingering  feeling  of  regret.  Bidding,  therefore, 
adieu  to  our  fair  friends,  to  whom  we  promised  on  our  return  a  copious 
budget  of  news  from  Pera,  we  sailed  at  daybreak  on  the  morning  of 
the ,  and  after  encountering  a  tramontana  and  strong  adverse  cur- 
rent, came  to  an  anchor1  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day  of  our  de- 
parture off  Tenedos,  with  the  far-famed  Trojan  plain  abreast  of  us. 


1830.J  A  Week  at  Constantinople  in  1829.  667 

With  but  too  many,  classical  enthusiasm  in  a  sailor  is  regarded  as  sheer 
affectation  ;  but  in  a  scene  of  unrivalled  beauty  like  this,  with  the  Trojan 
plain  commanded  by  the  lofty  range  of  Ida  before  us ;  behind,  the 
distant  Mount  Athos  rearing  its  lofty  head  above  the  low  lands  of 
Lemnos  and  Tenedos ;  on  our  right  the  ruins  of  Alexandria  of  Troas, 
and  Lemnos  ;  on  our  left  the  entrance  of  the  Hellespont,,  and  the  high 
lands  of  Imbras  and  Samothrace — add  to  the  crowd  of  recollections 
which  rush  on  the  mind  while  gazing  on  this  splendid  panorama  the 
magical  effect  of  an  oriental  sunset,  and  in  this  spot  the  indulgence 
of  a  schoolboy  recollection  will,  perhaps,  escape  the  imputation  of  both 
pedantry  and  affectation. 

We  weighed  anchor  early  the  following  morning,  and  passed  the 
castles  at  the  mouth  of  the  Hellespont  with  a  light  breeze  from  the 
Southward.  With  every  stitch  of  canvass  set,  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
we  made  way  against  the  strong  adverse  current.  Among  the  crowd  of 
souvenirs  which  rush  on  the  mind  in  passing  these  celebrated  states,  we 
dwell  with  peculiar  delight  on  the  story  of  Leander,  associated  as  it  is 
with  the  name  of  our  own  Byron,  who,  it  may  be  recollected,  swam 
across  it  with  an  officer  of  the  Salsette  frigate.  This  feat  of  his  lordship 
has  been  much  blazoned,  though  without  reason,  for  he  did  not  attempt 
the  most  difficult  part,  which  was  to  swim  back  again. 

Independent  of  the  formidable  castles  which  defend  the  entrance  of 
the  Hellespont,  the  guns  of  which  are  all  fl  a  fleur  d'eau,"  there  is  an 
extensive  system  of  batteries  and  redoubts  on  the  heights  near  Sigeum 
and  the  opposite  point  of  the  Thracian  Chersonnesus.  As  we  reconnoitred 
with  our  glasses  these  formidable  defences,  we  felt  that,  once  in  posses- 
sion of  the  Russians,  they  would  laugh  to  scorn  the  attempts  of  all 
Europe  to  dislodge  them :  even  in  the  hands  of  the  Turks,  our 
squadron  in  1807  found  their  position  before  them  untenable. 

In  the  evening  we  passed  the  town  of  Gallipoli,  and  held  on  our 
course  through  the  night  across  the  Sea  of  Marmora ;  the  wind  fresh- 
ening from  the  southward.  At  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  we  came 
in  sight  of  the  village  of  San  Stefano,  and  the  beautiful  summer  palace 
of  the  Sultan.  We  could  now  descry  from  the  deck  the  graceful  mina- 
rets and  swelling  cupolas  of  the  capital.  By  eleven  we  rounded  the 
Seraglio  Point,  and  brought  up  in  the  Golden  Horn  opposite  Galata. 
Then  it  was  that  a  panorama  of  unrivalled  loveliness  burst  upon  our 
enraptured  vision,  of  which  no  description,  however  florid  and  accurate, 
can  convey  an  adequate  idea.  In  the  course  of  a  long  naval  career,  it 
has  been  my  lot  to  visit  at  different  periods  most  of  the  beautiful  spots 
on  the  surface  of  the  globe — the  Bays  of  Genoa  and  Naples,  the 
romantic  Cintra,  Rio  de  Janeiro,  and  the  more  distant  Sydney ;  but, 
beautiful  as  they  certainly  are,  they  must  yield  the  palm  of  superior 
loveliness  to  Constantinople.  On  the  Asiatic  side,  a  succession  of  beau- 
tiful country  houses,  surrounded  by  vines  and  beautiful  gardens ;  on 
the  left  an  arm  of  the  sea  stretching  far  up  into  Europe,  in  the  middle 
of  which  stands  the  tower  of  Leander ;  while  from  the  European  shore 
rises  Byzantium  in  gorgeous  magnificence,  a  vast  amphitheatre  of 
reddish-coloured  buildings,  beautifully  intermingled  with  trees  and  the 
dark  domes  of  the  mosques  and  bazaars,  above  which  rise  the  lofty 
minarets,  surmounted  with  the  emblem  of  the  Moslem  faith,  the  cres- 
cent; the  whole  standing  out  indistinct  relievo  from  the  transparent 
dark-blue  sky.  But  enough  of  description.  On  landing  at  Galata,  the 

4  P  2 


A  Week  at  Constantinople  in  1829.  [DEC. 

illusion  produced  on  the  mind  by  a  distant  view  immediately  vanishes. 
Such  a  compound  of  filth  and  wretchedness  I  never  beheld.  I  was 
only  astonished  that  the  plague  should  ever  cease  its  ravages  in  its 
narrow  streets.  At  Pera  the  vision  brightened,  though  the  appearance 
of  this  celebrated  Frank  quarter  greatly  disappointed  us.  Its  finest 
features  are  its  barracks  and  cemeteries  :  the  latter  are  indescribably 
beautiful.  Barbarous  though  we  style  the  Turks,  how  far  superior  are 
they  in  this  point  to  the  more  civilized  Europeans  !  There  is  an  exquisite 
feeling  of  delicacy  and  religious  respect  for  the  dead,  evinced  by  this 
people  in  the  construction  of  their  beautiful  cemeteries,  which  must 
command  our  warmest  admiration.  Aware  that  our  stay  would  be  ex- 
tremely short,  we  made  the  necessary  dispositions  for  making  the  most 
of  it.  As  a  preliminary  measure,  we  engaged  an  Italian  "  cicerone" 
whom  we  fell  in  with  at  an  inn  in  Pera.  On  the  following  morning  we 
pulled  round  the  Seraglio  Point  to  see  the  Sultan  going  in  state  to  the 
mosque  of  the  Sultan  Achmet.  The  cortege  was  splendid,  and  realized 
to  the  fullest  extent  all  my  preconceived  ideas  of  oriental  pomp  and 
magnificence.  Mahmoud  was  mounted  on  a  beautiful  Arabian,  and 
rode  on  without  casting  a  look  either  to  right  or  left.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  gaze  on  this  extraordinary  man  without  a  deep  feeling  of  interest 
and  admiration.  Nurtured  in  adversity,  unawed  by  the  experience  of 
the  past,  fierce  and  bloody  insurrection  at  home,  or  foreign  aggression 
from  without,  with  an  admirable  singleness  of  purpose  and  unshaken 
firmness,  he  pursues  his  system  of  reform.  I  confess  I  am  one  of  those 
who  wish  him  success.  A  fine  spectacle  he  certainly  presents;  and 
bloody  and  terrific  as  have  been  some  acts  of  his  career,  it  would  be  un- 
generous not  to  give  full  weight  to  his  peculiar  position.  The  counte- 
nance of  the  Sultan  wore  an  expression  of  sternness  and  hauteur  almost 
bordering  on  ferocity,  heightened  by  the  most  piercing  pair  of  black 
eyes  I  ever  beheld.  Of  his  figure  we  could  not  judge,  robed  as  it  was 
in  the  ample  folds  of  oriental  costume. 

To  one  accustomed  to  the  monotony  of  European  towns,  the  first  view 
of  Constantinople  produces  a  singular  effect  on  the  mind — pleasing,  cer- 
tainly, from  its  novelty.  The  crowds  of  people  of  different  nations,  in 
their  various  and  picturesque  costumes,  who  swarm  its  narrow  streets 
and  lanes — the  absence  of  horses  and  wheeled  carriages — a  melancholy 
and  desolate  air  which  pervades  every  thing,  interrupted  by  an  incessant 
noise  of  hammers  and  files,  which,  like  many  Portuguese  towns,  distin- 
guish Stamboul — present  to  the  eye  of  the  stranger  a  picture  unique  in 
its  kind,  though,  when  the  first  charm  of  novelty  had  worn  off,  I  think 
disgust  would  rapidly  succeed.  Our  cicerone  now  led  us  to  the  seraglio, 
into  the  first  court  of  which  we  penetrated :  there  was  as  usual  a  dis- 
play of  human  heads.  An  air  of  desolation  and  melancholy  seemed 
to  hang  over  the  vast  area,  the  scene  of  so  many  bloody  tragedies.  A 
few  Turks  were  lounging  about  with  a  listless  air,  which  singularly  con- 
trasted with  the  hungry  looks  which  a  pack  of  half-starved  dogs  di- 
rected towards  the  human  heads  in  the  niches  above  them. 

We  made  a  hasty  tour  of  the  old  town.  The  remains  of  antiquity 
greatly  disappointed  our  expectations.  Gibbon  we  set  down  as  a 
' '  romancier."  San  Sophia,  in  external  appearance,  is  decidedly  inferior 
to  the  mosque  of  the  Sultan  Achmet  and  several  others.  Although  the 
late  events  have  infused  into  the  character  of  the  haughty  Osmanlis  a 
certain  degree  of  courtesy  towards  foreigners,  hitherto  unknown,  we 
ventured  not  to  penetrate  into  the  interior  of  any  of  the  mosques. 


1830.]  A  Week  at  Constantinople  in  1829.  669 

Most  travellers  complain  of  annoyance  from  the  canine  race,  which 
infest  the  streets  of  Constantinople.  I  know  not  whether  the  complexion 
of  the  times  had  infected  these  animals,  but  we  certainly  did  not  expe- 
rience the  annoyance  which  the  complaints  of  all  visitors  to  the  Ottoman 
capital  had  led  us  to  expect. 

Every  officer  of  the  ship  feeling  the  greatest  anxiety  to  lionize  this 
celebrated  capital,  I  was  obliged  to  take  my  turn  of  duty  on  board, 
and  thus  lost  two  valuable  days.  On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day, 
I  started  with  a  party  on  a  trip  up  the  Bosphorus  to  Therapia,  where  the 
Sultan  was  encamped  with  his  favorite  tacticoes.  Nothing  could  sur- 
pass the  loveliness  of  the  scenery  on  either  side  the  strait.  The  defences 
from  the  city  to  the  castles  at  the  mouth  are  extremely  formidable,  and 
had  been  lately  strengthened,  in  expectation  of  an  attempt  on  the  part 
of  the  Russians.  A  British  squadron  of  similar  force  to  Admiral  Grey's 
would  most  certainly  have  made  a  dash  :  he  would  have  had  the  advan- 
tage of  a  strong  current,  which  Admiral  Duckworth  had  to  contend 
against  in  forcing  the  Dardanelles.  The  Turkish  encampment  with  its 
various-coloured  tents  had  a  most  picturesque  appearance.  Nothing  could 
be  more  beautiful  than  the  scite  chosen  for  it.  We  were  unfortunately 
disappointed  in  getting  a  glimpse  of  Mahmoud,  whom  we  had  been  led 
to  expect  we  should  have  found  engaged  in  his  favourite  occupation  of 
manoeuvring  the  tacticoes.  There  were  assembled  at  Therapia  at  the 
moment  of  our  visit  several  battalions  of  infantry,  with  some  squadrons 
of  lancers  and  artillery :  the  material  of  the  latter  agreeably  surprised 
us.  Upon  the  whole  the  tacticoes,  to  an  eye  accustomed  to  the  beauty 
of  European  troops,  cut  a  most  sorry  figure.  Their  firing  was  rapid  and 
well  concentrated,  but  in  every  other  point  they  struck  me  as  miserably 
deficient.  Nothing  can  well  be  more  ungraceful  than  the  uniform  of 
these  new  troops.  Many  grave  writers  have  attempted  to  impute  the 
opposition  to  the  military  reforms  of  the  Sultan  to  a  bigoted  attach- 
ment to  ancient  costumes :  for  my  own  part,  I  am  inclined  to  ascribe  it 
to  a  very  different  cause — to  the  existence  of  that  all-ruling  passion 
vanity.  The  Turks  are  a  people  passionately  fond  of  dress,  and  their 
standard  of  taste  is  certainly  fixed  at  an  elevated  point.  With  them, 
rank,  privilege,  caste,  are  all  designated  by  the  colour  or  cut  of  a  turban. 
A  more  dashing  uniform  would,  I  am  convinced,  have  rendered  the 
service  more  popular.  What  young  effendi  would  exchange  his  grace- 
ful turban,  richly  embroidered  vest,  scarlet  pantaloons,  and  cachmere 
girdle,  with  its  richly  mounted  "  handgar,"  for  the  red  skull-cap  and 
unmartial  costume  of  the  tacticoes  ?  Were  an  order  issued  from  the 
Horse  Guards,  conceived  in  the  economical  spirit  of  a  Hume,  to  dress 
our  guards  te  a  la  Tacticoturque"  almost  every  officer  in  the  brigade 
would,  I  feel  confident,  sell  out  in  disgust.  The  dashing  uniforms  of 
some  of  our  staff-officers  excited  the  admiration  of  the  young  Turks ; 
with  whom,  as  with  our  young  dandies  in  the  west,  there  is  magic  in  the 
glitter  of  an  epaulette,  and  music  in  the  jingle  of  a  spur.  Notwith- 
standing their  defective  organization,  these  new  troops  behaved  ex- 
tremely well  in  the  field,  and  on  several  occasions  gallantly  charged  the 
Russian  infantry  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  There  is  much  yet  to  be 
effected.  The  Ottoman  army  has  neither  commissariat,  hospital,  or  gene- 
ral staff;  and  they  have  yet  to  acquire  the  two  most  difficult  points  of  the 
military  art— that  of  directing,  and  the  still  more  difficult  one  of  subsist- 
ing large  masses.  We  returned  at  a  late  hour  on  board,  delighted  with 
our  excursion. 


670  A  Week  at  Constantinople  in  1829.  [DEC. 

We  had  but  one  day  left,  and  there  was  yet  a  great  deal  to  be 
seen ;  but  the  wonders  both  of  nature  and  art  which  enrich  this  cele- 
brated capital  have  been  too  often  described  to  need  a  repetition.  After 
perambulating  the  bazaars  and  bezentiens,  tired  with  our  walk,  we 
entered  a  Turkish  cafe.  A  cafe  Turque  has  nothing  in  common 
with  similar  establishments  in  Europe  but  the  name.  They  are  cir- 
cular buildings,  generally  with  a  porch.  Elevated  tables  are  ranged 
along  the  sides,  covered  with  carpets  or  mats,  on  which  the  Turks  sit 
smoking,  or  sipping  their  coffee.  We  were  sufficiently  masters  of  the 
Turkish  language  to  order  some  cups  of,  in  Turkey,  thisMelicious  beve- 
rage, and  its  usual  accompaniment  the  pipe.  One  of  our  party  pre- 
ferred a  cigar,  which  he  was  proceeding  to  ignite,  when  he'  was  politely 
presented  with  a  small  amber  tube  by  an  officer  of  tacticoes  seated 
near  us.  The  Turks,  votaries  as  they  are  of  tobacco,  never  allow  its  aro- 
matic leaf  to  come  in  contact  with  their  lips.  Our  companion,  in  return, 
handed  his  cigar-case  to  the  officer,  who  helped  himself,  returning,  to 
our  astonishment,  his  acknowledgments  in  very  good  French.  Our  new 
acquaintance,  we  found,  had  been  for  some  time  an  attache  to  the 
Turkish  embassy  at  Paris.  He  had  only  returned  to  the  capital  a  few  days 
before  from  Chumla.  Contrasted  with  former  periods,  he  said,  every 
thing  wore  an  air  of  the  deepest  gloom  at  Constantinople.  We  ven- 
tured to  ask  his  opinion  as  to  the  probable  success  that  would  attend 
the  extensive  system  of  reform  projected  by  Mahmoud,  and  already  in 
partial  operation  :  he  answered  with  an  ominous  shake  of  the  head.  The 
vices  which  are  eating  the  vast  edifice  of  the  Turkish  empire  to  the 
very  core  are  of  too  inveterate  a  character  to  be  reformed  by  mortal 
hand.  Even  though  it  were  practicable,  he  added,  the  ambitious 
Muscovite  would  mar  the  execution.  I  could  not  help  remarking  that 
the  bias  of  our  friend's  opinions,  was  decidedly  unfavourable  to  the  Rus- 
sians, whom  he  regarded  with  mingled  feelings  of  hatred  and  distrust. 

We  all  regretted  that  our  near  departure  would  prevent  our  culti- 
vating his  acquaintance,  from  whom  we  should  have  doubtless 
derived  much  curious  and  valuable  information  relative  to  his  interest- 
ing country.  The  press  has  lately  teemed  "  ad  nauseam"  with  pro- 
ductions on  Turkey,  forming  an  "olla  podrida"  of  conflicting  and  con- 
tradictory statements  that  must  satisfy  the  most  superficial  reader  that  the 
Turks  have  hitherto  remained  totally  impervious  to  the  eye  of  European 
scrutiny.  Of  the  domestic  circle  of  this  singular  people,  we  literally 
know  little  more  than  of  the  interior  of  the  moon  :  their  external  features 
are  alone  familiar  to  us,  and  picturesque  and  splendid  are  they  in  the 
extreme.  In  Turkey,  we  travel  back,  as  it  were,  into  remote  antiquity; 
at  every  step  we  discover  traces  of  the  primitive  ages  of  mankind,  vene- 
rable from  their  antique  character,  and  interesting  from  their  singular 
and  beautiful  contrast  with  the  manners  of  Western  Europe.  With  all 
its  vices,  there  is  in  the  Turkish  character  a  native  innate  dignity  which 
inspires  respect,  mingled  at  the  same  time  with  many  traits  well  worthy 
the  imitation  of  their  more  polished  neighbours.  I  leave  it  to  poli- 
ticians to  decide  whether  Europe-  would  be  a  gainer  by  their  being 
driven  from  its  shores ;  but  as  the  tall  and  graceful  minarets  of  Stam- 
boul  were  receding  from  our  view,  I  ventured  to  indulge  in  the  hope, 
that,  should  fate  ever  again  lead  me  to  its  walls,  I  might  not  behold  the 
Crescent  of  Mahomet  replaced  by  the  Eagle  of  the  North. 


18.30.] 


MINA. 


WE  give  a  very  curious  paper  on  the  exploits  of  the  Spanish  patriots 
in  their  late  attempt.  Their  adventures  would  make  a  good  figure  in  a 
romance ;  and  Mina's  two  stags  deserve  to  flourish  on  the  stage,  as  well 
as  any  dog  of  Montargis. — The  refugees  had  no  force.  What  were 
two  thousand  men,  without  cavalry  or  artillery,  to  invade  a  kingdom  ? 
— or  how  could  they  wonder  if  the  peasantry  dreaded  to  join  them, 
when  they  went  so  obviously  to  destruction  ?  The  patriots  must  wait ; 
they  have  yet  lost  nothing;  their  time  will  assuredly  come.  Human 
nature  will  at  length  rise  against  the  stupid  severity  of  the  government, 
and  the  gross  tyranny  of  the  priests.  The  patriots  then  will  be  called  for  ; 
and  then  they  will  be  necessary,  popular,  and  irresistible. 

THE    CAMPAIGN    OF    THE    SPANISH    CONSTITUTIONALISTS. 

THE  question  which  naturally  occurs  to  the  generality  of  Englishmen 
who  are  not  deeply  conversant  with  the  state  of  Spanish  affairs,  is — 
"  Why  do  not  the  Spanish  people,  like  the  French,  rise  spontaneously 
to  arms  against  their  oppressors  ?"  To  enter  into  a  full  and  satisfactory 
solution  of  this  query,  would  carry  us  beyond  the  limits  which  we  can 
for  the  present  assign  to  the  subject ;  and  we  shall  accordingly  remit  to 
a  future  number  the  task  of  demonstrating  the  several  causes  which 
militate  against  an  electric  and  simultaneous  rising  up  of  the  Spanish 
nation.  But  whatever  may  be  the  obstacles  to  be  surmounted,  the 
dangers  to  be  incurred,  or  the  trial  to  be  undergone,  before  a  regenera- 
tion can  be  effected  in  SpaL:,  neither  those  obstacles,  dangers,  or  trials 
can  present  a  pretext,  much  less  an  efficient  reason,  for  apathy  and  inac- 
tivity on  the  part  of  those  who  feel  any  interest  in  the  affairs  of  their 
country.  A  false  argument  is  continually  adduced  by  the  advocates  of 
the  present  ruinous  and  humiliating  system  of  government  in  the  Penin- 
sula, when  they  wish  to  paralyze  the  efforts  of  the  noble-minded,  or 
destroy  the  sympathy  which  those  efforts  may  generate  in  kindred  spirits 
in  foreign  countries.  They  say,  "  The  Spanish  people  are  content  with 
the  existing  order  of  things;  why,  then,  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  the 
land  by  attempts,  the  probable  results  of  which  will  only  be  to  entail  a 
long  train  of  calamities  on  the  inhabitants  ?  Why  endeavour,  by  violent 
means,  to  introduce  into  the  nation  institutions  which  the  mass  of  the 
public  can  neither  understand  nor  appreciate  ?"  These  questions  may, 
at  the  first  blush,  startle  and  perhaps  convince  those  who  are  not  disposed 
to  give  the  subject  sufficient  reflection.  The  validity  of  this  argument 
once  established,  it  will  go  to  prove  that  Spain  is  doomed  to  continue  for 
ever  in  the  same  deplorable  state ;  for  there  is  no  earthly  reason  why  the 
question  and  concomitant  answer  should  not  be  supplied  a  century  hence 
with  the  same  justice  and  propriety  as  at  present.  Are  evils  to  be  cured 
by  letting  them  have  full  scope  to  prey  upon  the  patient  ? — or  is  the 
enlightenment  of  nations  to  be  obtained  by  keeping  individuals  in  a  close 
and  jealous  oppression  ?  Wait  till  the  mass  of  the  people  becomes  less 
gross  in  their  ignorance — less  fanatic  in  their  superstition.  But  how  is 
this  to  be  obtained  ?  Is  it  by  making  no  efforts  whatever  to  open  the 
eyes  of  the  said  people?'— or  is  the  miracle  to  be  accomplished  by  divine 
interposition  ? — or,  perhaps,  the  enlightment  of  the  mass  of  the  Spanish 
nation  is  to  be  achieved  by  carefully  removing  from  their  reach  all  the 


(572  The  Campaign  of  ike  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  £DEC. 

means  of  coming  to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth  ?  Such  is  precisely  the 
aspect  in  which  the  unprejudiced  will  view  the  argument  in  favour 
of  postponing  Spanish  liberty  to  a  future  period. 

But  the  Spanish  nation  is  not,  as  it  is  gratuitously  assumed,  satisfied 
with  the  present  system  of  affairs — unless,  indeed,  by  a  nation  be  meant 
the  swarm  of  reptiles  who  fatten  on  the  ruin  of  the  land — unless  by  a 
nation  be  meant  the  tribe  of  place-holders  and  place-hunters — the  syco- 
phants, an  indolent  portion  of  the  aristocracy  and  of  a  tyrannic  and 
vicious  clergy — and  a  degraded  rabble,  that  care  little  under  what 
form  of  government  they  live,  provided  they  can  carry  on  their  perni- 
cious avocations.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  by  a  nation  is  understood  the 
respectable,  enlightened,  and  industrious  classes  of  society,  the  balance 
will  weigh  prodigiously  in  favour  of  liberal  institutions.  These  and 
other  considerations  had  determined  the  exiled  Constitutionalists,  in 
accordance  with  their  brethren  of  the  Peninsula,  to  exert  their  efforts  in 
behalf  of  their  country,  so  soon  as  a  favourable  opportunity  should  offer 
for  carrying  their  undertaking  into  execution  with  any  strong  probability 
of  success.  The  late  memorable  events  in  Paris,  which  terminated  so 
fortunately  in  the  overthrow  of  oppression,  were  the  welcome  messengers 
that  told  that  the  long-wished-for  moment  was  at  length  arrived,  when 
the  energies  of  the  Spaniards  were  to  be  called  into  action  to  break  the 
ignominious  shackles  which  kept  their  country  in  more  ignominious 
thraldom.  It  was  evident  that,  with  the  downfal  of  an  obnoxious  dy- 
nasty in  France,  the  chief  support  of  despotism  in  Spain  was  also  felled 
to  the  ground.  No  longer  would  the  patriots  have  to  dread  the  scanda- 
lous and  unprincipled  invasion  of  a  hundred  thousand  soldiers,  sent  to 
destroy  the  liberties  of  the  land — as  was  the  case  in  the  year  1823.  Instead 
of  the  agents  and  abettors  of  oppression,  the  liberals  of  Spain  beheld 
now  friends  and  brothers,  who,  if  they  did  not  support  their  cause, 
would  at  least  throw  no  impediment  in  the  way  of  freedom,  much  less 
present  themselves  as  instruments  in  the  hands  of  tyranny  to  enslave  and 
oppress  their  neighbours. 

Strong  symptoms  of  revolutionary  effervesence  in  Spain  became  im- 
mediately perceptible.  A  general  movement  took  place  among  the 
refugees  individually,  or  in  parties;  they  moved  towards  the  frontiers. 
"The  public  journals  were  filled  with  speculations  relating  to  the  question 
at  issue,  and  the  state  and  prospects  of  Spain  acquired  suddenly  a  degree 
of  interest  and  importance  which  offered  a  striking  contrast  with  the  in- 
difference formerly  displayed  towards  the  affairs  of  that  kingdom.  San- 
guine expectations  of  success  were  entertained,  and  the  internal  intrigues, 
occasioned  by  the  Carlist  faction  in  the  Peninsula,  reasonably  enough 
added  another  argument  in  favor  of  such  anticipations.  But  among  the 
obstacles  which  were  destined  to  impede  and  check  the  progress  of  the 
constitutionalists,  there  was  one  more  deeply  deplored  by  the  friends  of 
Spanish  liberty,  as  they  knew  the  fatal  effects  which  it  was  sure  to  pro- 
duce ;  such  was  the  disunion  which  became  but  too  soon  apparent  among 
the  chiefs  that  were  organizing  the  invasion  into  Spain.  This  disunion 
was  the  more  detrimental  to  the  cause,  as  it  originated  not  in  the  pique 
or  disappointment  of  the  moment,  but  was  on  the  contrary  an  evil  of 
long  standing — an  evil  which  had  been  firmly  established,  and  was  now 
systematically  continued.  That  the  reader  may  clearly  understand  the 
original  cause  of  this  calamitous  difference  among  the  Spanish  patriots, 
it  is  necessary  he  should  learn  that  among  that  valiant  body  there  exist 


1830.J          The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  673 

two  distinct  parties  known  by  the  denominations  of  the  Masones  and  the 
Comuneros.  Without  entering  into  an  examination,  or  presuming  to  give 
a  judgment,  concerning  the  merits  and  demerits  of  these  parties,  it  will 
still  be  necessary  to  afford  some  idea  of  their  character,  views  and  pre- 
tensions. The  Masones  possess  the  moral,  and  the  Comuneros  the  nu- 
merical majority  among  the  refugees.  Though  we  must  not  infer  from 
this,  that  there  are  not  many  Comuneros  who  have  and  will  adhere  to 
the  operations  of  the  other  party  when  they  perceive  inefficiency  or  fault 
in  their  own.  The  Masones  contain  in  their  ranks  the  greater  proportion 
of  the  influential  names  among  the  liberals.  The  members  of  the  Cortes 
of  the  year  1812,  the  old  generals  and  patriots,  &c.,  belong  to  this  party.* 
That  part  of  the  aristocracy  which  entertains  liberal  opinions,  also 
adheres  to  the  politics  of  the  Masones,  as  is  also  the  case  with  the  men  of 
science  and  letters  that  have  espoused  the  cause  of  freedom.  The  party 
of  the  Comuneros  is  of  more  modern  date  than  that  of  the  Masones.  Its 
members  profess  more  decided  opinions,  and  its  leaders  are  more  strongly 
characterized  by  vehemence  and  impatience.  The  military  chief  of  the 
party  is  General  Torrijos,  a  gallant  and  enthusiastic  young  officer,  who, 
during  his  sojourn  in  London,  displayed  an  unusual  activity  and  rest- 
lessness for  carrying  his  plans  into  effect.  The  partizans  of  Torrijos,  of 
greater  note,  are  Palarea,  Gurrea,  Vigo,  and  F.  Valdes,  the  leader  of  the 
late  unsuccessful  attempt. 

We  will  now  proceed  to  give  a  rapid  sketch  of  the  late  events  which 
we  have  already  asserted  have  given  to  the  cause  of  Spanish  liberty  a 
degree  of  high  interest,  even  at  a  time  when  the  affairs  of  France  and 
Belgium  made  so  powerful  an  appeal  to  the  attention  of  the  public. 

Immediately  after  the  glorious  events  at  Paris,  the  Spanish  patriots, 
resolving  to  make  an  attempt  in  behalf  of  the  liberty  of  their  country,  pro- 
ceeded without  delay  to  take  the  necessary  steps  to  carry  their  design 
into  execution.  A  provisional  junta  of  government  was  formed,  com- 
posed of  Isturiz,  Vadillo,  Calatrava  and  Sancho,  who  proceeded  forth- 
with to  Bayonne,  to  fulfil  the  duties  incumbent  on  their  station.  In 
every  undertaking,  even  of  a  trifling  nature,  the  necessity  of  a  general 
leader  is  imperiously  felt ;  and  without  unity  in  design  and  in  execution, 
few  probabilities  of  success  can  be  reckoned  upon.  Deeply  impressed 
with  this  truth,  both  the  provisional  junta  and  the  refugees  individually 
perceived  the  urgency  of  naming  a  general-in-chief,  on  whom  the 
supreme  command  of  the  various  bodies  preparing  to  march  into  Spain 
should  be  invested.  Among  the  various  brave,  experienced  and  other- 
wise distinguished  chiefs,  the  general  opinion  ran,  more  especially,  in 
favour  of  Mina,  and  he  was  accordingly  elected.  No  choice  could  argue 
at  once  more  justice  and  discretion — even  putting  aside  the  extraordi- 
nary merit  of  that  general — even  passing  over  in  silence  his  abilities  as  a 
soldier — his  rigid  discipline— consummate  prudence  and  fertility  of 
expedients  in  cases  of  emergency — even,  we  repeat,  making  abstraction 
of  so  many  claims  which  pointed  him  out  to  the  preference  of  his  brother 
liberals,  the  very  name  of  Mina  was  in  itself  a  host — a  name  not 
merely  respected  among  the  Spaniards,  but  justly  admired  and  appre- 
ciated in  foreign  countries.  The  friends  of  liberty  hoped  that  such 

*  Such  as  Don  A.  Arguilles,  Don  C.  Valdez,  Count  Toreno,  Martinez  de  la  Rosa, 
Calatrava,  Cuaclra,  Galiano  Isturiz,  &c.  Among  the  generals — Mina,  Espinoza,  Pla- 
censia,  Castellar,  Butron,  Quiroga,  Lopez,  Banos,  &c. 

M  M..  New  Series VOL.  X.  No.  60.  4  Q 


674  The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  QDEC. 

superior  pretensions  would  induce  the  various  chiefs  to  acquiesce  in  the 
propriety  of  the  election  of  Mina  to  the  supreme  command,  but,  un- 
fortunately, this  was  far  from  being  the  case.  Without  entering  into 
invidious  and  disagreeable  speculations,  we  will  merely  state  that,  whilst 
Espinosa,  Plasencia,  Butron,  and  other  generals  readily  and  joyfully  sub- 
scribed to  the  choice,  there  were  other  chiefs  who  opposed  it,  and  deter- 
mined to  act  independent  of  his  authority.  Colonel  Valdes,  De  Pablo, 
and  Vigo  were  more  conspicuous  in  this  opposition,  and  they  forthwith 
applied  themselves  to  hasten  their  invasion  into  Spain.  This  unfortu- 
nate circumstance  was  a  source  of  great  sorrow  and  perplexity  to  the 
more  prudent  among  the  Spaniards ;  they  harboured  fearful  antici- 
pations that  much  mischief  might  ensue  from  this  spirit  of  disunion,  and 
they  even  dreaded  that  the  immediate  success  of  the  cause  might  be 
affected  by  the  event.  Negociations  were  entered  upon  which  proved 
abortive,  and  an  entrance  into  Spain  without  further  delay  was  the 
result.  It  is,  however,  but  just  to  observe,  that  the  decided  hostility 
evinced  by  the  sub-prefect  of  Bayonrie  towards  the  constitutionalists, 
and  the  numberless  paltry  vexations  with  which  he  contrived  to  annoy 
them,  might  also  have  weight  in  influencing  the  resolution  taken  by  the 
oppositionists  to  Mina.  Be  this  as  it  may,  a  detachment  of  constitution- 
alists entered  Spain  on  the  15th  of  October,  under  the  command  of  a 
chief  in  the  interests  of  Torrijos  and  the  Comuneros. 

Colonel  Don  Francisco  Valdes  is  an  officer  who  possesses  in  no  ordi- 
nary degree  the  quality  of  daring  intrepidity.  He  is,  besides,  enthusi- 
astically attached  to  the  cause  of  liberty,  and  bears  a  character  of  unim- 
peached  honour  and  integrity.  Added  to  this,  his  great  activity  and  the 
recollection  of  his  attempt  at  Tarifa,  have  invested  him  with  a  degree  of 
merit  which  gained  him  partizans,  and  enabled  him  to  muster  up  a 
respectable  body  of  followers.  But  let  us  calmly  ask,  is  this  enough  to 
justify  Valdes  for  his  ambition,  or  excuse  his  reluctance  to  act  under  the 
orders  of  such  a  man  as  Mina  ?  This  unhappy  breach  among  the  con- 
stitutionalists paved  the  way  to  the  spirit  of  intrigue,  and  the  enemies  of 
Spanish  liberty  would  not  allow  so  favourable  an  opportunity  to  escape 
without  setting  all  their  engines  to  work,  in  order  to  multiply  the  diffi- 
culties which  the  folly  of  the  patriots  themselves  conspired  to  increase. 
From  the  very  active  part  which  certain  persons  played, — from  the  pecu- 
niary means  at  the  command  of  other  men  by  no  means  deserving  of 
implicit  trust,  and  from  a  variety  of  circumstances  which  it  is  super- 
fluous to  enumerate,  we  may  draw  the  most  melancholy  inferences  con- 
cerning the  series  of  intrigues  carried  on  among  the  deluded  Spaniards., 
whom,  it  now  appears,  no  lesson  of  experience  can  render  wiser. 

Colonel  Valdes  then,  after  a  stormy  interview  with  Mina,  effected,  as 
we  have  related,  his  entry  into  Spain  :  but  his  first  movements  were  for 
some  time  totally  unknown  to  the  public.  Indeed,  the  most  contradic- 
tory accounts  were  daily  in  circulation  concerning  the  progress  of  the 
small  band,  and  the  encouragement  afforded  by  the  inhabitants.  One 
day  Valdes  was  completely  routed,  and  the  next  we  heard  of  his  repuls- 
ing a  force  of  two  thousand  men  under  Juanito.  So  imperfect  was  the 
information  received,  that  the  greatest  variety  of  opinion  existed  even 
with  regard  to  the  amount  of  the  numeral  strength  of  the  invaders. 
Some  boldly  asserted,  that  the  corps  of  Valdes  amounted  to  eight  hun- 
dred strong,  while  others  were  only  willing  to  allow  the  colonel  half  the 
number — the  latter  were,  no  doubt,  nearer  the  mark.  Colonel  Leguia 


1830.]  The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  (575 

sustained  a  partial  check,  and  this  gave  rise  to  the  rumour  of  the  total 
discomfiture  of  the  liberals — a  rumour  very  industriously  circulated  by  a 
certain  Spanish  capitalist  of  Paris,  deeply  interested  in  the  present 
affairs.  No  event  of  importance,  however,  took  place.  Valdes  main- 
tained his  position  at  Zugarramurdi,  but  it  does  not  appear  that  he 
derived  any  considerable  advantage  therefrom  ;  the  desertions  from  the 
enemy  were  few,  and,  as  far  as  we  can  gather,  the  conduct  of  the 
inhabitants  not  remarkable  for  cordiality. 

The  attempt  of  Colonel  Valdes  possessed  none  of  the  elements  which 
could  count  probabilities  of  success,  or  remove  gloomy  anticipations  from 
the  more  prudent  and  experienced  among  the  patriots.  A  small  body  of 
men,  hastily  equipped  and  indifferently  organized,  invade  Spain,  and 
their  movement  is  undertaken  through  a  province  which,  owing  to  cer- 
tain privileges  which  it  enjoys,  has  always  exhibited  a  decided  hostility 
towards  the  constitutional  government.  The  leader  of  this  band,  though 
a  brave  and  honourable  officer,  is  neither  from  experience,  abilities,  or 
station,  of  sufficient  weight  to  take  on  himself  the  responsibility  of  so 
arduous  an  enterprise  j  indeed,  the  whole  affair  bears  rather  the  sem- 
blance of  an  experimental  adventure,  than  of  a  regular  judicious  and 
systematic  military  operation.  Jejune  and  ill-concerted  measures— 
imperfect  information  of  the  country  and  the  enemy — want  of  means  and 
authority,  come  to  increase  these  obstacles  to  success. 

The  position  of  General  Mina  was  at  this  moment  extremely  delicate 
and  perplexing.  The  ignorant  and  mischievous  men  who  had  hitherto 
used  their  utmost  endeavours  to  fix  odium  and  reproach  on  the  character 
of  that  honourable  soldier,  would,  under  existing  circumstances,  have 
another  opportunity  to  seize  upon  in  order  to  vent  the  venom  of  their 
spite  and  envy.  The  most  odious  aspersions  had  been  systematically 
disseminated  against  the  fair  fame  of  the  general.  By  the  most  lenient 
he  had  been  represented  as  an  indolent,  selfish  man,  who,  possessing  the 
means  of  enjoying  a  tranquil  life,  preferred  his  ease  and  comfort  to  the 
prosperity  of  his  country.  But  there  were  Spaniards  also,  some  from 
sheer  ignorance  and  imbecility,  others  from  still  less  excusable  motives, 
who  blushed  not  to  advance  the  most  weighty  accusations  against  him. 
His  honour  and  integrity  were  called  in  question — he  was  represented  as 
a  traitor  to  the  cause  of  liberty ;  and  there  were  some  who  went  so  far 
as  to  give  it  to  be  understood  that  he  was  afraid  of  marching  into  Spain 
— Risum  leneatis  !  General  Mina  turned  coward  !  And  why  all  this 
violent  persecution  against  him  who  had  rendered  such  essential  services 
to  his  country  ?  Simply,  because  he  would  not  blindly  enter  into  every 
mad  scheme  which  any  imprudent  man  thought  fit  to  agitate.  We  will 
not  offer  an  insult  to  General  Mina  by  undertaking  an  idle  defence  of 
his  conduct.  Yet  the  mischief  which  this  systematic  and  abominable 
persecution  of  Mina  does  to  the  Spanish  cause  is  immense.  The  friends 
of  the  cause  abroad  have  neither  the  time  nor  the  opportunities  of 
entering  into  a  proper  investigation  of  motives,  and  drawing  reasonable 
inferences.  They  only  see  things  en  masse  which  deserve  condem- 
nation, and,  in  dealing  this  award,  a  separation  of  the  innocent  from  the 
delinquent  cannot  easily  be  attained.  The  natural  result  is,  that  foreign- 
ers, however  favourably  inclined  towards  the  cause,  come  to  a  con- 
clusion, that  it  cannot  prosper  as  long  as  it  possesses  no  more  com- 
petent supporters, 

But  there  was  another  and  a  very  powerful  reason  to  determine  Mina 

4Q  2 


t>70  The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  [!>EC. 

to  adopt  the  resolution  which  he  ultimately  took.  The  rashness  of 
Valdes  seriously  compromised  the  enterprise  into  which  they  had 
embarked,  at  the  same  time  that  it  exposed  that  commander  to  probable 
destruction.  It  was  indispensable  to  march  immediately  to  his  support, 
and  by  vigorous  exertions  endeavour  to  counteract  the  mischief  of  a 
first  blunder.  It  was  neither  humane  nor  politic,  to  abandon  these 
Spaniards  to  their  fate.  Impelled,  therefore,  by  such  weighty  con- 
siderations, but  against  the  dictates  of  his  better  judgment,  General  Mina 
determined  to  march  forthwith  into  Spain.  He  felt  fully  aware  of  the 
incompetence  of  the  means  in  his  power  to  carry  on  any  extensive  ope- 
rations, and  he  probably  limited  his  views,  for  the  moment,  to  recon- 
noitring the  country,  and  aiding  to  liberate  Valdes  from  his  difficult 
position.  The  force  which  Mina  could  command  has  been  differently 
stated,  but  we  have  good  reason  to  suppose  it  did  not  exceed  three 
hundred  men.  Of  these  a  considerable  number  were  officers  of  all 
ranks,  from  that  of  general  to  lieutenant :  these  gentlemen  formed 
themselves  into  a  body,  which  they  called  the  sacred  battalion,  and  they 
cheerfully  submitted  to  undergo  all  the  toil,  and  perform  all  the  duties 
of  private  soldiers.  The  services  of  these  men,  however  valuable  in 
other  circumstances,  were  little  available  in  the  present  posture  of  events. 
These  officers  were  old  veterans,  the  youngest  not  below  forty,  almost 
all  infirm  and  suffering  from  the  effects  of  a  long  series  of  sorrows  and 
misfortunes ;  they  could  ill  support  the  excessive  fatigue  which  they 
had  magnanimously  imposed  on  themselves,  and,  considering  the  nature 
of  the  service  they  were  now  to  perform,  they  were  certainly  inferior  to 
a  company  of  common  soldiers. 

Mina's  little  army  began  its  march  on  the  18th  of  October,  and  on 
the  20th  entered  Spain.  The  gallant  body  contained  in  its  rank  several 
generals  and  chiefs  of  higli  merit  and  standing  in  the  army,  amongst 
others  Butron,  Lopez,  Banos,  Alexander,  O'Donnel,  Sancho  and  others. 
Mina  also  took  with  him  the  brave  Colonel  Tauregui,  better  known  by  the 
name  of  El  pastor,  or  the  shepherd,  in  allusion  to  his  calling,  previous 
to  his  taking  arms  against  the  French  during  the  Peninsular  war.  The 
sufferings  which  these  brave  Spaniards  underwent  were  very  severe. 
We  know  from  the  most  authentic  sources  that  for  several  days  and 
nights  they  enjoyed  no  moment  of  repose,  passing  the  nights  among  the 
fastnesses  of  bleak  mountains  without  shelter  or  protection.  A  violent 
storm,  which  continued  for  a  whole  day,  added  to  the  misery  of  their  situ- 
ation— they  were  literally  soaked  in  the  rain,  suffering  from  fatigue  and 
want,  and  exposed  to  a  variety  of  dangers  in  a  province,  which,  as  we 
have  already  mentioned,  is  one  of  the  least  inclined  to  a  political  change. 
But  nothing  was  sufficient  to  damp  the  ardour  of  the  devoted  troop  and 
they  patiently  endured  all  the  hardships  which  they  were  compelled  to 
undergo.  They  had  taken  their  position  on  the  heights  of  Vera,  no  doubt 
with  the  intention  of  effecting  a  junction  with  the  corps  of  Valdes,  or  at 
least  to  be  near  in  order  to  offer  him  assistance  in  case  of  necessity. 
Meantime  El  Pastor,  who  commanded  a  body  of  a  hundred  men  had 
advanced  towards  Irun,  and  after  a  short  fire  succeeded  in  expelling  the 
small  garrison  which  defended  that  post. 

It  soon  became  evident  to  the  judicious  observer  that  the  reception  of 
the  patriots  was  not  so  cordial  as  it  had  been  confidently  anticipated. 
The  number  of  those  who  joined  the  ranks  of  the  liberals  was  limited, 
and  though  the  inhabitants  did  not  rise  against  thenr,  still  there  was  no- 


1830.]  The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  677 

thing  in  their  conduct  strongly  indicative  of  adhesion  to  the  cause  of 
freedom.  But  this  ought  to  be  subject  of  no  wonder.  They  knew  that 
an  overwhelming  force  was  advancing  in  every  direction  against  the  re- 
fugees, and  the  issue  of  so  preposterous  a  contest  as  that  of  five  or  six  hun- 
dred devoted  men  against  an  army  of  six  or  eight  thousand  regular  troops 
was  easily  to  be  foreseen.  From  this  general  dread,  the  apathy  of  many 
and  the  decided  hostility  of  others,,  the  most  fatal  results  ensued.  As  we 
have  before  said  the  constitutionalists  met  with  no  support  within,  and 
madness  alone  would  suppose  that  the  liberty  of  the  country  would  be 
effected  by  their  sole  individual  exertions. 

Mina  in  this  trying  occasion  exhibited  the  abilities  for  which  he  has 
been  so  justly  celebrated.  He  soon  perceived  that  the  odds  were  fear- 
fully against  him,  and  he  prudently  confined  his  operations  to  the  avoid- 
ing engaging  in  a  contest  until  he  could  command  greater  elements  of 
success.  He  was  surrounded  with  imminent  dangers  ;  and  to  elude  the 
vigilance  of  the  enemy  was  for  the  present  moment  the  only  advantage 
to  which  he  could  aspire.  In  the  art  of  fatiguing  an  enemy  to  no  pur- 
pose Mina  is  acknowledged  a  profound  adept — the  extraordinary  man- 
ner in  which  he  continued  with  his  guerrilla  to  harass  and  exhaust  the 
strong  French  detachments  opposed  against  him  is  in  the  memory  of  all 
who  are  conversant  with  the  history  of  the  Peninsular  war.  The  same 
tactics  would  have  been  followed  with  equal  success  on  the  present  oc- 
casion, had  not  fatal  and  unavoidable  circumstances  deranged  the  plans 
of  Mina,  and  compromised  his  troops  to  a  line  of  conduct  contrary  to  the 
wishes  of  their  general  as  well  as  their  own. 

The  obstinacy  of  Colonel  Valdes  was  productive  of  the  most  fatal 
effects — this  chief  must  have  been  strangely  deceived  by  the  treacherous 
informations  of  scouts  in  the  interests  of  the  enemy.  Mina  had  received 
intelligence  of  the  real  state  of  the  case — he  knew  that  a  formidable  body 
was  on  the  point  of  falling  upon  the  little  army  of  the  patriots,  and  he 
hastened  to  communicate  the  news  to  Valdes.  In  the  meantime  he  had 
sent  a  great  proportion  of  his  troops  to  cover  the  retreat  which  he  fore- 
saw his  companion  in  arms  would  be  compelled  to  make.  General  Bu- 
tron,  who  commanded  Mina's  followers,  had  an  interview  with  Colonel 
Valdes,  and  informed  him  that  they  would  be  surprised  by  the  enemy 
unless  they  made  good  their  retreat  in  time.  Valdes  would  not  believe 
the  truth  of  this  intelligence,  alleging  that  he  had  received  far  more 
correct  information  from  his  confidential  scouts— this  fatal  blindness 
in  Valdes  was  not  long  in  producing  the  natural  results.  Early  in  the 
morning  of  the  27th  the  enemy  came  in  sight,  and  in  a  short  time  they 
presented  a  very  formidable  array.  Instead  of  detached  guerrillas  or 
small  flying  columns  it  was  soon  perceived  that  a  series  of  battalions  of 
regular  troops  were  making  their  appearance.  The  troops  of  General 
Llauder,  Viceroy  of  Navarre,  together  with  those  of  Fournay,  Santos, 
Ladron  and  Juanito,  were  acting  with  one  accord,  in  order  to  surround 
and  completely  annihilate  the  small  band  of  the  constitutionalists. 

To  his  first  error  Colonel  Valdes  added  a  second — when  he  saw  that 
he  had  been  mistaken  in  his  surmises — either  from  a  punctilio  of  honor — 
from  some  extravagant  stretch  of  hope,  or  from  some  other  unknown 
cause,  he  resolved  to  engage  in  conflict  with  the  enemy,  instead  of 
retreating  before  such  superior  force.  This  certainly  was  a  strange  in- 
fatuation, the  more  reprehensible  as  no  one  ever  entertained  a  doubt  of 
the  intrepidity  and  military  honour  of  Valdes.  In  a  short  time  a  brisk 


678  The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  [DEC. 

fire  commenced  between  his  two  hundred  men  and  the  foremost  detach- 
ment of  the  enemy.  Valdes  himself  behaved  with  the  utmost  gallantry, 
and  being  most  efficiently  seconded  by  his  followers,  he  succeeded  in 
maintaining  his  station  at  the  bridge  of  Vera  for  a  long  time.  But  new 
forces  were  continually  coming  in  sight,  and  no  human  exertions  could 
avail  in  so  unequal  a  contest.  The  heights  of  Vera  presented  a  fearful 
array,  forests  of  bayonets  and  other  weapons  glancing  in  the  sun,  threat- 
ened the  devoted  band  with  certain  and  immediate  destruction.  Valdes, 
after  an  obstinate  resistance,  was  obliged  to  abandon  his  place  and  re- 
treat still  keeping  up  the  fire.  At  this  moment  a  body  of  above  a  thou- 
sand men  was  seen  advancing  to  the  right  with  the  intention  of  cutting 
off  the  sole  direction  by  which  the  retreat  could  be  effected.  The  dan- 
ger of  the  constitutionalists  was  now  appalling — wherever  they  turned 
their  eyes  they  met  nothing  but  fearful  numbers  of  the  enemy — it  seemed 
as  if  the  crisis  of  their  fate  was  arrived  and  that  nothing  could  avert 
their  ruin. 

In  this  awful  moment,  Mina's  cavalry,  that  is  to  say  thirty  horsemen,  made 
a  desperate  rush  against  the  division  of  the  enemy  that  was  intercepting 
the  retreat.  The  attack  of  this  gallant  band  was  so  resolute,  that  despite 
of  the  immense  inequality  of  numbers,  they  succeeded  in  killing  many  of 
the  enemy,  taking  a  chief  and  some  men  prisoners,  and  throwing  the 
whole  body  into  confusion.  This  partial  success  infused  new  ardour 
into  the  hearts  of  the  patriots,  their  drooping  hopes  were  revived  and  a 
fresh  stimulus  was  added  to  their  exertions.  The  struggle  was  continued 
with  obvious  advantage  on  their  side,  when  another  division  was  observed 
rapidly  advancing  to  support  the  first.  To  prolong  now  the  contest  under 
such  disadvantages  would  have  argued  insanity  and  folly,  and  the  order 
was  given  for  a  retreat  into  France.  This  movement  was  performed  with 
less  disorder  and  confusion  than  could  have  been  anticipated  from  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  action.  The  great  majority  of  the  patriots  effected  their 
entrance  into  France,  not  as  flying  fugitives,  but  as  soldiers  in  possession 
of  their  arms.  The  loss  which  the  troops  of  Valdes  and  Mina  sustained 
on  this  occasion  amounted  to  about  a  hundred  men  in  all,  counting  the 
slain,  wounded,  prisoners,  and  those  who  were  missing;  but  it  was  after- 
wards found  that  the  loss  was  not  quite  so  severe,  as  several  men  be- 
longing to  the  party  made  successively  their  appearance  in  the  French 
territory. 

It  seems  really  strange  that  a  single  man  should  have  been  suffered 
to  escape.  According  to  the  assertion  of  the  prisoners  made  by  Mina's 
cavalry  the  forces  of  the  royalists  amounted  to  5,000,  and  this  without 
counting  other  troops  which  were  kept  behind  and  took  no  part  in  the 
engagement.  The  constitutionalists  were  nearly  surrounded — pressed  on 
all  sides,  and  retreating  through  places  which  certainly  were  not  very 
friendly  disposed  towards  them.  From  this  a  natural  conclusion  must 
be  drawn  which  will  prove  favorable  to  the  liberals.  The  event  serves 
to  establish  the  fact  that  there  was  an  extraordinary  exertion  of  courage 
and  activity  on  one  side,  and  an  equal  degree  of  indifference  on  the  other. 
The  royalist  troops  merely  performed  their  duty,  they  did  not  fight  as 
men  who  were  ardent  in  the  cause  they  defended,  and  there  is  every 
reason  to  suppose  that  had  any  thing  resembling  an  army  been  opposed 
to  them,  the  desertion  to  the  enemy's  ranks  would  have  been  very  great. 
Another  circumstance  to  strengthen  this  opinion  is  that  the  royalist 
forces  were  not  made  up  of  militia,  guerrillas,  or  disorderly  bands  of 


1830.]          The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  679 

volunteers,  but  was  composed  of  a  regiment  of  the  royal  guards  and 
troops  of  the  line.  How  came  it  then  to  pass  that  soldiers  who  could 
have  not  the  slightest  grounds  of  complaint,  were  seen  to  perform  their 
task  so  tamely  ?  How  is  this  to  be  explained  unless  we  admit  that  they 
were  not  ardent  in  the  cause  they  were  sent  to  support  ?  We  do  not 
mean  that  in  some  particular  instances  they  did  not  shew  a  degree  not 
only  of  zeal  but  of  ferocity ;  for  example,  many  of  the  officers  (new 
men)  were  vociferous  in  their  cries  of  Viva  II  Re  absoluto  !  and  the  roy- 
alists violated  the  French  territory  by  killing  and  wounding  several  con- 
stitutionalists in  the  pursuit ;  but  certain  partial  cases  cannot  affect  our 
opinion,  and  we  may  fairly  believe  that  the  spirit  of  the  army  in  general 
was,  to  say  the  least,  very  doubtful. 

Mina  beheld  the  conflict  from  the  heights  of  St.Marcial;  and  as  he  had 
justly  anticipated,  should  Valdes  refuse  to  retreat,  he  perceived  the  de- 
feat of  the  constitutionalists  and  their  return  into  France.  He  was  at  the 
moment  attended  by  a  few  followers,  as  we  have  seen  that  the  bulk  of  his 
little  army  operated  under  El  Pastor  and  Butron.  To  effect  an  escape  into 
the  French  territory  was  now  the  only  object  towards  which  his  attention 
ought  to  be  directed  ;  but  there  were  great  difficulties  in  the  accomplish- 
ment of  this  plan :  the  country  swarmed  with  royalists,  who  after  the 
repulse  of  the  enemy,  naturally  enough  directed  their  whole  care  to  fer- 
ret out  and  capture  those  whose  escape  had  been  intercepted.  The  roy- 
alist chiefs  were  indefatigable  in  their  pursuit,  they  suspected  or  rather 
knew  that  Mina  was  surrounded  and  in  their  power,  and  they  spared  no 
exertion  to  secure  so  rich  a  prize — the  few  attendants  of  that  general  had 
dispersed  in  order  to  effect  their  escape  individually,  as  in  this  manner 
they  were  more  likely  to  succeed  than  by  keeping  in  a  body,  which 
would  of  course  offer  greater  facility  to  a  discovery.  Mina  at  last  remained 
alone  with  his  aid-de-camp  Meca,  a  priest  and  an  old  servant.  He  wan- 
dered about  the  mountains  in  the  most  destitute  and  wretched  condition, 
expecting  every  hour  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  He  knew 
the  importance  that  attached  to  his  capture — his  situation  was  deplorable, 
but  his  mind  remained  unbroken  by  misfortune — the  fatal  moment  at 
length  arrived.  His  aid-de-camp  perceived  a  strong  detachment  of  roy- 
alists advancing  in  their  direction — they  had  been  seen — to  avoid  a  meet- 
ing was  totally  impracticable.  Mina  perceived  the  horror  of  his  situation, 
from  which  he  felt  sensible  nothing  could  extricate  him.  He  finally  re- 
solved to  exert  every  effort,  however  desperate  and  wild,  rather  than  sub- 
mit tamely  to  his  melancholy  fate.  Collecting  all  his  energies  and  summon- 
ing to  his  assistance  his  extraordinary  presence  of  mind,  he  turned  to  his 
companions,  who  had  lost  every  hope,and  in  a  calm  tone  of  voice  said — 

"  Gentlemen,  be  composed — remain  here  and  let  me  advance." 

Saying  this  he  resolutely  went  to  meet  the  approaching  party.  In  a 
short  time  he  was  close  to  the  royalists,  when  in  a  steady  tone  and  col- 
lected manner  he  cried  out — 

<(  To  what  division  does  this  detachment  belong  ?" 

The  captain  stared  in  astonishment,  at  a  question  so  arrogantly  and 
confidently  put.  He  did  not  recognise  Mina,  and  he  remained  for  a 
few  seconds  in  suspense  ;  he  was  as  it  were  taken  by  surprise,  and 
knew  not  what  to  make  of  the  man  who  addressed  him  in  so  command- 
ing a  tone.  Mina,  observing  the  confusion  into  which  he  had  thrown 
the  royalist  chief,  lost  no  time  in  improving  his  first  advantage ;  feign- 


680  The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  £DEC. 

ing  to  fall  into  a  rage,  he  exclaimed  in  a  more  haughty  and  impatient 
manner — 

"  Sir,  I  ask  again  to  whom  does  this  troop  belong  ?" 
The  question  was  accompanied  with  an  oath — the  captain's  confusion 
increased,  his  surprise  was  converted  into  a  kind  of  dread,  and  fancy- 
ing that  he  was  addressed  by  some  superior  chief  of  the  royalist  army, 
he  submissively  answered — 

"  This  detachment  belongs  to  the  division  of  Juanito." 
"  Well  then,"  returned  Mina,  forthwith,   ef  what  brings  you  hither  ? 
hasten  to  join  your  division." 

The  officer  stared  and  demurred  to  obey  this  order. 
Mina  cast  a  glance  of  indignation,  and  in  a  fierce  voice  exclaimed — 
"  Damnation,  Sir  !  what  do  you  mean  by  not  obeying  immediately  ? 
Go,  Sir,  or  depend  upon  it  I  shall  report  your  conduct  \" 

The  royalist  officer  made  no  further  shew  of  opposition,  but  in  a 
deferential  manner,  bowed  to  Mina,  and  followed  the  command  so 
sharply  given  :  in  a  few  minutes  the  deluded  party  were  out  of  sight  and 
Mina  joined  his  companions.  The  success  of  this  extraordinary  ruse,  gave 
the  four  unfortunate  wanderers  courage  to  support  the  new  trials  and 
hardships  which  they  were  aware  they  would  have  to  encounter 
before  they  could  gain  the  French  line.  Though  they  had  escaped 
one  imminent  danger,  a  thousand  equally  appalling  obstructed  their 
path — they  were  not  deceived  in  their  melancnoly  surmises — the  roy- 
alists, who  by  this  time  had  received  correct  information  relating  to 
Mina's  fugitive  course  and  destitute  condition,  were  exerting  all  their 
endeavours  to  discover  his  lurking-place.  The  constitutional  general 
and  his  attendants,  knowing  that  those  places  were  filled  with  their 
pursuers,  had  taken  refuge  in  an  obscure  cavern,  situated  in  a  retired 
and  dismal  ravine.  There  they  remained  in  concealment  until  an  oppor- 
tunity should  offer  for  their  escape.  Meantime  the  royalists  were 
very  actively  engaged  in  scouring  the  forest  and  every  spot  around, 
but  to  no  purpose.  Their  ingenuity  was  next  put  to  the  utmost  stretch, 
in  order  to  devise  means  for  arriving  at  the  attainment  of  their  object. 
They  caused  some  shepherds  to  ramble  about,  sounding  their  horns,  that 
Mina,  deceived  by  the  welcome  note,  might  be  tempted  to  quit  his  con- 
cealment in  order  to  request  succour.  This  stratagem  was  very 
adroitly  put  in  practice,  but  without  success ;  Mina,  like  an  old  fox, 
would  not  quit  his  hole ;  the  failure,  however,  only  served  to  stimulate 
the  contrivers  of  this  plan  to  form  another  more  pregnant  with  danger, 
for  the  fugitives.  Blood-hounds  were  then  procured  and  let  loose, 
that  they  might  scent  the  intended  victims  out  j  this  expedient  was 
sagacious,  and  it  was  nearly  proving  fatal  to  Mina.  The  hounds  went 
on  in  their  pursuit  with  fearful  precision ;  and  the  unfortunate  men 
were  on  the  point  of  being  discovered,  when  two  stags  suddenly 
started  from  their  repose,  crossing  in  the  direction  of  the  hounds. 
This  singular  incident  saved  the  lives  of  Mina  and  his  companions  ; 
the  dogs,  naturally  enough,  followed  in  the  tract  of  the  stags,  and  this 
new  scheme  of  the  royalists  completely  failed.  Had  this  extraordinary 
circumstance  happened  when  the  life  of  a  royalist  general  was  con- 
cerned, the  monks  and  friars  would,  no  doubt,  have  cried  out — "  A 
miracle  !  a  miracle  !"  The  two  stags  would  have  been  converted 
into  angels,  expressly  sent  from  heaven,  in  that  moment  of  peril.  In 


1830.]          The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  681 

the  present  case,  however,  the  said  stags  must  be  content  to  bear  a  very 
different  character,  and  if  the  circumstances  of  Mina's  escape  should 
be  narrated  by  his  enemies,  we  shall  not  be  surprised  to  see  the  poor 
stags  transformed  into  a  couple  of  devils. 

When  General  Mina  felt  assured  that  the  coast  was  clear,  he  ventured 
to  quit  his  retreat,  and  endeavoured  to  effect  his  escape  by  the  most 
solitary  places.  After  a  fatiguing  and  anxious  march,  he  succeeded  in 
reaching  a  hamlet ;  his  sudden  appearance  produced  a  strong  emotion 
in  the  inmates  of  one  of  the  wretched  houses,  and  he  endeavoured  to 
tranquillize  their  fears.  A  lad  eighteen  years  of  age,  then  generously 
offered  to  conduct  the  general  to  the  French  frontier,  which  he  did 
with  perfect  success,  and  in  reward  of  his  humanity  and  resolution, 
received  a  considerable  sum  of  money  from  the  general. 

Having  crossed  into  the  French  territory,  one  would  suppose  that  the 
dangers  and  trials  of  Mina  were  at  an  end,  but  this  was  far  from  being  the 
case.  He  arrived  at  a  house  near  Sara,  and  there,  exhausted  with  fatigue, 
and  suffering  from  the  combined  effects  of  hunger  and  want  of  sleep, 
he  threw  himself  down  to  enjoy  some  repose.  Not  long  after,  Santos 
Ladron,  one  of  the  royalist  generals,  passed  by  the  house  where  he 
lay — the  chief  commanded  a  division  of  four  hundred  men,  no  doubt 
a  part  of  those  who  had  pursued  the  party  of  Valdes  into  France. 
Santos  Ladron  passed  by  the  house  where  Mina  reposed,  and  never 
once  dreaming  that  the  rich  prize  was  in  his  power,  he  returned  to 
Spain  without  further  delay. 

Mina  upon  his  arrival  in  France  appeared  in  a  most  wretched  con- 
dition— it  is  asserted  that  a  quartern  loaf  was  the  only  food  which  he 
and  his  companions  tasted  for  the  space  of  two  days.  The  effects  of 
his  sufferings  were  clearly  perceptible  upon  his  constitution ;  his 
wounds  bled  anew,  and  to  recover  his  strength,  he  was  afterwards 
obliged  to  take  the  baths  of  Cambo. 

The  attempts  made  by  other  constitutional  chiefs,  have  been  of  less 
importance ;  the  one  conducted  by  the  brave  Colonel  de  Pablo,  called 
Chapalangaras,  is  the  most  worthy  of  notice,  from  its  terminating  in 
the  death  of  that  officer.  It  must,  however,  be  confessed  that  De 
Pablo  was  guilty  of  an  excess  of  rashness,  not  to  say  folly — he  boldly 
marched  before  a  strong  body  of  the  enemy,  and  without  further  ado 
attempted  haranguing  them— a  few  moments  afterwards  he  was  pierced 
with  a  shower  of  bullets,  and  his  small  band  totally  dispersed.  Colonel 
Baiges  also  made  an  invasion,  but  was  obliged  to  retreat :  such  has 
also  been  the  case  with  Gurrea.  Of  the  operations  of  Milans  and 
Grases,  nothing  positive  is  known  ;  but  we  may  venture  to  assert  that 
from  the  spirit  which  reigns  in  Catalonia  and  Arragon,  invasions  are 
much  more  likely  to  be  attended  with  success  in  those  places  than  in 
the  province  of  Navarre.  The  disaster  which  happened  to  Mina  and 
Valdes,  will  be  a  subject  of  no  wonder  to  those  who  have  been  at  the 

C'ns  of  perusing  this  sketch  of  the  event ;  the  wonder  would  indeed 
re  been,  if  things  had  turned  out  otherwise.     A  close  investigation 
of  facts,  will  convince  any  one  that  if  the  constitutionalists  instead  of 
frittering   away  their  slender  powers    in    petty  attempts  arid  foolish 
quarrels,  had  mustered  up  all  their  forces,  and  under  the  command  of 
Mina  marched  into  Spain  two  thousand  strong,  the  strength   to  be 
supposed  to  be  scattered  along  the  frontiers,  they  would  have  deter  ~ 
mined  the  undecided  to  join  them,  and  opened  the  way  to  Success. 
M.M.  New  Scries.— VOL.  X.  No.  60.  4  R 


The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  QDEC. 

With  regard  to  different  other  points  in  the  Peninsula,  no  event  of 
importance  has  hitherto  taken  place.  The  progress  of  General  Torrijos 
is  involved  in  mystery ;  sometimes  he  is  represented  as  a  solitary  and 
helpless  fugitive,  and  at  others  as  having  made  a  successful  descent  on 
the  southern  coast  of  Spain.  As  he  is  totally  bereaved  of  resources, 
the  probability  is  that  he  has  met  yet  with  nothing  but  disappointment. 
In  Gacilia  the  fire  of  revolution  has  emitted  some  sparks.  The  curate 
of  Valdeorras  and  Rodriguez,  called  Bordas,  have  organized  guerril- 
las, which  for  some  time  excited  deep  anxiety  among  the  constituted 
authorities.  But  the  forces  of  those  chiefs  were  not  sufficiently  strong 
to  cope  against  the  enemy  opposed  to  them.  Many  of  the  party  have 
been  killed,  others  executed,  and  the  rest  dispersed.  The  leaders  and 
principal  men  have  escaped,  and  will  yet  reappear  in  the  field,  when 
it  is  least  expected.  The  long  time,  which  forlorn  as  they  are,  has 
passed  without  their  being  taken,  is  a  strong  evidence  that  they  have 
protection  in  the  territory.  Much  is  expected  from  Catalonia — the 
spirit  of  that  province  is  liberal,  and  the  atrocities  of  Count  d'Espagna 
will  add  the  stimulus  of  revenge  to  the  desire  of  freedom.  The  en- 
trance of  winter  will  probably  retard  the  operations  of  the  consti- 
tutionalists. The  Junta  has  been  dissolved,  but  another  with  a  more 
authoritative  character  will  be  named  in  its  place.  Meantime,  as  if  the 
poor  refugees  had  not  trials  and  difficulties  enough  to  encounter,  the 
liberal  French  government  has  given  peremptory  orders  for  their  dis- 
persion, and  they  are  ordered  into  Bourges  and  other  places  in  the 
interior.  It  is  something  singular,  forsooth,  that  France  should  now 
shew  such  conscientious  scruples — France  !  that  blushed  not  in  1823 
not  merely  to  aid  and  abet  the  serviles,  but  even  carry  on  a  most  atro- 
cious and  unjustifiable  invasion  against  all  the  laws  of  justice  and  the 
rights  of  nations.  By  what  strange  fatality  is  it,  that  unfortunate 
Spain  is  ever  doomed  to  suffer  from  the  government  of  her  neighbour 
France,  whether  this  government  be  imperial  or  republican,  ultra-royalist 
or  liberal  ? 

But  the  radical  impediment  to  the  political  regeneration  of  Spain  is, 
we  trust,  for  ever  removed.  France  is  no  longer  under  the  dominion  of 
a  family  reared  in  secret  hatred  of  freedom,  and  ready  to  support  the 
views  of  despotism  in  the  Peninsula.  The  fatal  counsellors  of  Ferdi- 
nand are  thrown  entirely  on  their  sole  resources  and  strength  : — those 
resources  and  that  strength  must  at  last  be  exhausted.  A  shuffling,  dis- 
creditable, and  pernicious  system  of  finance  cannot  be  continued  for  ever  ; 
even  the  most  blind,  the  most  inveterate  of  dupes  must  ultimately  open 
his  eyes  to  the  picture  of  his  own  ruin. 

The  Spaniards  have  now  no  cause  of  alarm  from  the  anticipation  of 
foreign  interference.  The  governments  of  Europe  have  business  enough 
to  mind  at  home,  without  taking  upon  themselves  the  task  of  meddling 
with  the  affairs  of  other  nations.  The  first  interests  of  France  are  con- 
nected with  the  dissemination  of  liberal  principles  throughout  Europe. 
Let  this  truth  be  deeply  impressed  on  the  minds  of  those  who  hold  the 
reins  of  government.  Should  a  foolish  confidence  in  its  own  power,  or 
the  adoption  of  half-measures,  founded  on  fallacious  and  fatal  theories, 
induce  the  French  ministry  to  shew  hostility  towards  their  brother- 
liberals  of  the  Peninsula,  let  it  be  remembered  that  the  baneful  results 
of  such  weak,  cruel  policy  will  ultimately  rebound  against  France  itself. 
The  policy  which  England  will  adopt  in  the  progress  of  the  momentous 


1830.]          The  Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists.  683 

events  that  absorb  the  attention  of  Europe,  is  not  difficult  to  be  seen. 
We  will  not  interfere  in  the  debates  at  issue  in  the  continent.  This  has, 
hitherto,  been  the  general  opinion ;  an  opinion  greatly  strengthened  and 
confirmed  since  the  change  which  has  lately  taken  place  in  our  adminis- 
tration. The  sympathy  of  the  English  public  is  strongly  engaged  in 
favour  of  the  liberty  of  the  Spaniards,  and  from  the  government  the 
patriots  have  nothing  to  apprehend.  W. 


THE    COMING    OF    WINTER. 

SILENT  I  wandered  through  a  winding  lane, 

Where  late  the  Spring's  triumphant  hand  had  thrown 

Its  archways  green  ;  alike  from  sun  and  rain 
Protecting  those  that  love  to  stray  alone, 
And  speak  to  Nature  with  that  inward  tone, 

Which,  trembling  in  the  heart,  is  scarcely  heard — 
A  music  all  too  mute  for  any  sigh  or  word. 

The  place  was  known  to  some  of  thoughtful  mould, 
Lovers  of  summer-solitudes.     And  there 

Full  oft  had  been  renewed  the  hours  of  old, 
Ere  Evil  in  the  heart  had  found  a  lair, 
Or  Hope's  high  wing  grew  heavy  with  despair. 

I  seemed  to  meet  their  minds  within  the  place, 
And  felt  a  heavenly  breath  come  freshening  o'er  my  face. 

The  way  was  as  a  labyrinth  of  love. 

There  Peace  and  low-voiced  Pleasure  might  be  found, 
Seeking  brief  glimpses  of  the  blue  above, 

Or  gazing  fondly  on  the  lifeless  ground, 

As  if  some  spirit  spoke  in  every  sound 
Or  rustling  step :  for  even  the  naked  earth 
Hath  seeds  of  human  joy — of  deep  mysterious  mirth. 

But  now,  through  all  that  peaceful  pleasant  path, 
O'er  which  a  leafy  arch  had  late  been  flung, 

The  conquering  Winter  walks.     A  sign  of  wrath 
Is  on  each  stem  and  twining  tendril  hung. 
The  wind  now  wails,  that  in  the  spring-time  sung 

Low  symphonies  of  gladness  ;  and  the  year 
Sheds  fast  and  frozen  tears  o'er  Summer's  shadowy  bier. 

That  native  green  cathedral,  where  the  soul 
Swelled  with  the  sweet  religion  of  the  fields, 

Is  all  in  ruin ;  to  Time's  cold  control, 

Fretted  with  flowers  the  vaulted  verdure  yields. 
From  sharp  decay  no  leaf  its  blossom  shields, 

But  every  rich  adorning  object  dies 
Which  Nature's  self  beheld  with  glad  admiring  eyes. 

Earth  seems  no  longer  the  selected  bride 

Of  Heaven,  but,  like  a  Widow,  weepeth  there. 
Across  her  brow  the  deepening  shadows  glide  ; 
The  wreaths  have  perished  on  her  pallid  hair. 
Yet  in  her  bosom,  beautiful  though  bare, 
A  radiant  hope  is  sown,  that  soon  shall  rise 
And  ripen  into  joy  beneath  the  brightening  skies. 
4  R  2 


684  The  Coming  of  Winter.  [DEC. 

The  sight  in  that  forsaken  place  and  hour 

That  touched  me  most  with  pity  and  strange  woe, 

With  tears  of  solemn  pleasure — was  a  shower 
Of  loosened  leaves,  that  fluttered  to  and  fro, 
Quivering  like  little  wings  with  motion  slow, 

Or  wafted  far  upon  the  homeless  breeze, 
Above  the  shrubless  mount,  and  o'er  the  sunless  seas. 

Oh  !  could  the  Mind  within  a  leaf  be  curled, 

What  distant  islands  might  mine  eyes  behold ! 
How  should  my  spirit  search  the  various  world, 

The  holy  haunts  where  Wisdom  breathed  of  old, 

The  graves  of  human  glory,  dim  and  cold ! 
Or  float  far  upward  in  the  frostless  air, 
Returning  home  at  last,  to  find  its  Eden  there ! 

But  those  pale  leaves  that  fell  upon  the  ground, 
When  the  wind  slept,  did  most  my  thoughts  engage ; 

They  spake  unto  my  sense  with  such  a  sound, 
As  breaks  and  trembles  on  the  tongue  of  age. 
Each  as  it  dropped  appeared  some  perished  page, 

Inscribed  with  sad  moralities,  and  words 
That  seemed  the  languaged  notes  of  meadow-haunting  birds. 

So  fast  from  all  the  arching  boughs  they  fell, 

Leaving  that  sylvan  sanctuary  bare 
To  the  free  wind,  that  musing  through  the  dell 

I  paced  amidst  them  with  a  pitying  care. 
Beauties  were  buried  in  those  leaves — they  were 
The  graves  of  spirits,  children  of  the  Spring — 
And  each  one  seemed  to  me  a  sacred,  thoughtful  thing. 

Honour  be  theirs  to  whom  an  insect  seems 

A  thing  made  holy  by  the  life  it  bears  ! 
Yet  some  have  found,  in  forms  unconscious,  themes 

For  thought  refined  ;  that  each  mute  atom  shares 

The  essence  of  humanity,  its  cares, 

Its  beauty  and  its  joys — who  feel  regret 

To  tread  one  daisy  down,  or  crush  the  violet. 

Slight  touches  stir  the  heart's  harmonious  strings. 

This  feeling  came  upon  me  as  I  crept 
By  the  stript  hedge — a  sympathy  with  things 

Whose  absent  spirit  with  the  sunshine  slept — 

That  fell,  or  floated  on — or  as  I  stept 
Complaining  music  made,  as  if  the  feet 
Of  Time  alone  should  press  existences  so  sweet. 

And  then,  among  those  dry  and  yellow  leaves, 

I  felt  familiar  feelings,  known  to  all ; 
That  deep  emotion  when  the  warm  heart  heaves 

And  wakens  up  beneath  a  wintry  pall. 

My  pleasures  and  my  passions  seemed  to  call 
From  out  those  withered  leaves — and  then  a  voice 
Came*  with  a  livelier  note,  and  taught  me  to  rejoice. 

The  promises  of  Youth  they  fly  and  fade ; 

Life's  vision  varies  with  the  changing  year ; — 
But  the  bright  Mind  receives  no  certain  shade 

From  dead  delights : — it  rises  calm  and  clear 

Amid  its  ringlets  grey  and  garlands  sere. 
Oh !  let  not  Time  be  ever  tracked  by  grief, 
Nor  Man's  instinctive  Hope  fall  like  an  autumn-leaf!  B. 


1830.]  [    685    ] 

LETTERS    OF    THE    RT.   HON.  R.  W1LMOT    HORTON  AND    OTHERS,    ON 
THE    WEST    INDIA    QUESTION.* 

So  much  has  been  said  and  written  of  late  on  the  subject  of  West 
India  Slavery,  that  it  would  seem  difficult  to  state  the  question  in  any 
new  point  of  view,  or  to  throw  any  additional  light  upon  its  merits. 

The  sectaries,  since  their  missionaries  quarrelled  with  the  people 
of  Jamaica,  Demerara,  &c.,  and  since  bishops  of  the  Church  of  England 
were  appointed  to  superintend  the  conversion  and  religious  instruction 
of  the  negroes — have  commenced  and  now  carry  on  a  determined 
crusade  for  the  entire  destruction  of  West  India  property ;  and  such 
iare  the  false  impressions  which  they  have  succeeded  in  creating 
throughout  the  country,  especially  amongst  their  own  followers — by 
repeating  over  and  over  again,  the  same  calumnious  misrepresentations 
and  exaggerated  statements  respecting  the  condition  of  the  slaves  in 
the  West  Indies,  and  the  "  miserable,  unhappy,  and  degraded  state"  of 
the  negroes — that  even  their  most  influential  leaders  have  become 
alarmed  for  the  consequences  of  their  ungovernable  zeal ;  and  while 
we  perceive  their  most  popular  advocate  glad  to  escape  from  the  mass 
of  insane  petitions  which  they  inflicted  upon  him,  we  find  Mr.  Wilber- 
force  adhering  to  the  wise  resolution  of  Parliament  in  1823,  and  signing 
a  petition,  praying  the  legislature  to  abolish  slavery  at  the  earliest 
possible  period,  "  CONSISTENTLY  WITH  THE  ESTABLISHED  INTERESTS 

OF  INDIVIDUALS,    AND  PROPERTY  IN  OUR  COLONIES."t 

We  find  the  same  meeting  which  adopted  this  petition,  passing  the 
following  just  and  equitable  resolutions  : — 

"  1.  Resolved — That  the  abolition  of  slavery  would  materially  affect  the 
interests  of  a  large  portion  of  our  fellow-subjects,  who  hold  property  in  slaves, 
under  laws  passed  or  recognized  in  this  kingdom  ;  and  that  all  sufferers  there- 
by will  be  justly  entitled  to  compensation  for  the  losses  they  may  sustain. 

<e  2.  Resolved — That  to  accomplish  the  great  arid  desired  measure  of  the 
abolition  of  slavery,  it  seems  necessary  that  a  fund  should  be  raised,  and  set 
apart  for  the  especial  purpose  ;  and  that  this  meeting  will  cheerfully  submit  to 
any  new  measure  of  taxation  which  Parliament  in  its  wisdom  may  adopt  for 
that  purpose." 

Widely  different,  however,  are  the  views  of  the  headlong  aboli- 
tionists. They  shut  their  eyes  and  their  ears  against  every  appeal  to 

«  Letter  to  the  Freeholders  of  the  County  of  York,  by  the  Right  Hon.  R.  Wilmot 
Horton.  Lloyd,  Harley- street. 

Presbyter's  Letters  on  the  West  Indian  Question,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Duncan,  of 
Bothwell.  Underwood,  Fleet-Street. 

Statement  of  Facts,  by  John  Gladstone,  Esq.     Baldwin  and  Co. 

•f-  The  following  apposite  remarks  on  this  petition  are  copied  from  the  Bath  Herald : 
"  The  principles  of  religious  justice  upon  which  the  Colonial  proprietors  ground  their 
claims  to  compensation  for  the  loss  of  the  services  of  their  slaves,  may  be  gathered  from 
the  divine  oracles,*  wherein  Almighty  God,  who  in  his  unerring  wisdom,  has  sanctioned 
and  decreed  slavery,  even  unto  perpetuity,  in  terms  so  clear,  so  positive,  so  direct,  as  no 
human  sophistry  can  mystify,  perplex,  nor  controvert,  any  more  than  it  can  the  Deca- 
logue itself,  has  also  decreed  that  slaves  shall  be  ransomed  for  '  a  price.'  With  these 
considerations  before  their  eyes,  and  with  a  thorough  conviction  of  the  necessity  of  gra- 
dually preparing  the  slave  for  his  liberty,  and  in  the  mean  time,  of  adopting  all  practi- 
cable measures  for  the  amelioration  of  his  condition,  a  petition  was  adopted  by  the  above 
meeting,  to  which  the  West  India  proprietors  themselves  who  were  present,  most  cheer- 
fully and  promptly  affixed  their  signatures." 

*  Levit.  xxv.  44,  45,  46. 


686  Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  £DEC. 

their  justice  and  humanity.  It  is  in  vain  to  urge  that  the  negroes  are 
more  comfortably  situated  than  the  greater  part  of  the  labouring  classes 
in  the  mother  country, — that  they  are,  at  present,  amply  provided  for, 
both  in  health,  in  sickness,  and  in  old  age ;  that  their  religious  instruc- 
tion is  sedulously  attended  to,  by  clergymen  of  the  established  church 
and  by  others,  and  that  a  compliance  with  the  indiscreet  zeal  of  the 
ultra-abolitionists  would  ruin  our  colonies,  and  consequently  not  only 
create  great  distress  and  misery  there  and  in  the  mother  country,  but, 
also,  lead  to  the  destruction  of  the  negroes  themselves.  They  answer — 
"talk  not  of  vested  rights  and  the  annihilation  of  property,  perish 
slavery,  even  though  it  should  involve  the  destruction  of  the  life  of  the 
slave  with  that  of  his  master," — they  persist  in  shouting  "  Murder/' 
and  "Robbery,"  whilst  the  objects  of  their  solicitude  are  comfortably  at- 
tending to  their  pigs  and  poultry ;  and  the  little  laughing  "  blackies"  are 
said  to  be  dancing  about  their  master,  or  his  representative  the  manager 
— their  friend  and  benefactor — eager  to  attract  his  attention  and  favour, 
by  the  most  winning  endearments. 

The  ultra-abolitionists  will  not,  however,  look  at  this  part  of  the  pic- 
ture. They  have  been  so  wrought  upon,  that  we  have  seen  peaceable 
quakers — men,  who  so  far  from  being  aggressors,  have  for  ages  been 
celebrated  for  their  doctrine  of  non-resistance  and  quiet  demeanor—- 
whose boast  it  has  been,  that,  for  the  sake  of  peace,  they  would  when 
smote  on  one  cheek,  turn  the  other — not  only  bustling  at  public  meet- 
ings— but  "  smiting  lustily"  such  unfortunate  West  Indian,  or  friend 
of  the  colonies,  as  dared  to  lift  up  his  voice  in  favour  of  common  sense 
and  common  justice,  or  who  even  had  the  hardihood  to  attempt  to 
obtain  a  hearing  for  our  ill-used  and  grossly  belied  brethren  in  the  West 
Indies.  Others,  not  contented  with  calumniating  the  colonists  in  their 
petitions,  make  a  direct  attack  upon  individual  Members  of  both 
Houses  of  Parliament !  Seemingly  regardless  of  the  acts  of  those 
incendiaries,  who  are  laying  up  such  a  store  of  want  and  misery  for 
the  poor  in  their  immediate  neighbourhood,  they  declare  that  they 
themselves  "  BURN  with  holy  indignation"  to  see  persons  connected  with 
the  colonies  sitting  in  Parliament  "  LIKE  SATAN  AMONGST  THE  SONS 
OF  GOD  !"*  and  pray  that  the  colonists  may  be  robbed  of  their  estates 
and  slaves,  without  the  slightest  shadow  of  compensation  ! 

Is  this,  we  would  ask,  the  language  of  Englishmen  ?  living  under 
the  liberal  and  paternal  government  of  King  William  the  Fourth  ?  or 
have  we,  by  some  unaccountable  means,  been  carried  back  to  the  time 
of  " Praise-God-Barebones/'  when  according  to  history,  "hypocrites 
exercising  iniquity,  under  the  vizor  of  religion,"  confounded  all  regard, 
to  ease,  safety,  interest : — when  the  fanatical  spirit  let  loose,  dissolved 
every  moral  and  civil  obligation  ? — yet  such  are  the  questions  which 
naturally  present  themselves  for  our  consideration,  when  we  take  a 
cursory  view  of  the  abominable  mass  of  cant,  bigotry,  and  misrepre- 
sentation, embodied  in  a  great  majority  of  petitions  which  are  impugn- 
ing the  lawful  interests,  property,  characters,  and  feelings,  of  a  numerous 
class  of  persons,  who  in  every  relation  of  life  are  more  respectable, 
more  loyal,  more  upright,  and  more  honourable  members  of  society — 
than  the  great  mass  of  their  assailants  ? 

We  have  earnestly  and  conscientiously  endeavoured  for  some  time 

•  Vide..  Petition  from  the  Independents  of  Chichester. 


1830.]  Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  687 

back,  to  counteract  the  machinations  of  the  anti- colonists,  and  we  have 
much  pleasure  in  noticing  that  several  eminent  statesmen  and  divines 
have  felt  it  their  duty  to  come  forward  in  defence  not  only  of  the  rights 
of  property,  but  of  true  humanity.  The  recent  report  of  the  church  mis- 
sionary society  very  clearly  establishes  the  fact  that  the  conversion  and 
religious  instruction  and  education  of  the  negro  slaves,  for  which  pur- 
poses that  society  was  incorporated,  is  making  very  satisfactory  progress  ; 
and  that  the  colonists  are  seriously  and  cordially  assisting  the  clergy  in 
that  desirable  work.  We  perceive  that  a  right  reverend  bishop  has  pre- 
sided at  a  meeting  at  home,  where  the  justice  and  necessity  of  an  equit- 
able consideration  of  the  rights  of  private  property  was  enforced  and 
subscribed  to  even  by  Mr.  Wilberforce.  Mr.  W.  Horton,  in  an  admirable 
letter  addressed  to  the  freeholders  of  the  county  of  York,  has  explained 
in  the  clearest  manner  the  desire  and  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  abo- 
litionists, to  evade  and  start  away  from  the  resolutions  of  parliament  of 
1823,  to  which  they  stand  so  fully  pledged  ;  and  he  has  fully  exposed 
the  unjustifiable  declarations  made  to  the  electors  during  the  late  elec- 
tion, and  their  inconsistency  with  all  the  former  pledges  and  declarations 
of  the  abolitionists. — 

"  It  is  your  boimden  duty,"  says  he,  "  to  take  the  pains  of  informing  your- 
selves with  respect  to  the  history  of  this  question  of  West  Indian  slavery ;  and 
unless  you  take  those  pains  when  the  means  are  afforded  to  you,  you  will  be 
guilty  of  the  greatest  and  most  unpardonable  injustice" 

Whatever  intelligence  there  may  be  amongst  the  class  to  whom  Mr. 
Horton  particularly  addresses  himself,  we  do  not  believe  that  a  tenth 
part  of  the  Yorkshire  petitioners  know  any  thing  whatever  of  the  ques- 
tion, or  are  even  capable  of  comprehending  its  merits. 

ff  The  sole  difficulty  of  this  West  Indian  question  is  comprised  in  two  short 
sentences:  First,  Do  you,  or  do  you  not,  mean  to  give  the  planters  equitable 
compensation,  should  they,  under  the  operation  of  any  legislative  enactments, 
lose  the  power  of  commanding1  the  labour  of  their  slaves  P  Secondly,  If  you 
do  mean  to  give  them  equitable  compensation,  what  is  the  mode  under  which 
that  compensation  is  to  be  estimated  and  applied?  From  whence  are  the 
large  funds  to  be  drawn,  which  may  be  necessary  for  the  completion  of  the 
object?" 

After  explaining,  that  the  resolutions  of  1823,  convey  two  distinct 
pledges,  as  clear  and  definite  as  it  is  possible  for  language  to  convey ; — • 
the  one,  that  such  measures  should  be  adopted  as  would  lead  to  the 
emancipation  of  the  slaves  at  some  future  period,  leaving  the  distance 
or  proximity  of  that  period  to  depend  upon  circumstances ;  the  other, 
that  equitable  compensation  should  be  given  to  the  planters. — Mr.  Hor- 
ton shews  by  a  publication  of  Mr.  Stephens  in  1825  or  1826,  that  the 
abolitionists  fully  concurred,  even  at  that  period,  in  these  views ;  which 
they  denominated  "  temperate  and  prudent/'  and  he  draws  a  strong 
parallel  between  the  pledge  which  they  demanded  from  candidates  in 
1826,  at  the  then  approaching  general  election,  and  that  which  they 
required  during  the  recent  contests. 

<e  Whoever  the  candidate  may  be,"  say  they  in  1826,  "  demand  of  him,  as 
a  condition  of  your  support,  that  he  will  solemnly  pledge  himself  to  attend  in 
his  place,  whenever  any  motion  is  brought  forward  for  the  mitigation  and  pro- 
gressive termination  of  Slavery  by  Parliamentary  enactments,  and  that  he  will 
give  his  vote  for  every  measure  of  that  kind,  NOT  INCONSISTENT  WITH  THE  TEMPE- 


688  Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  [DEC. 

BATE  AND  PRUDENT  SPIRIT  OP  THE  RESOLUTIONS  OF  MAY  1823,  AND  THE  RECOM- 
MENDATIONS OF  HIS  MAJESTY'S  GOVERNMENT  FOUNDED  ON  THOSE  RESOLUTIONS." 

But  in  1830  they  call  upon  their  followers  "  to  favor  the  pretensions 
of  such  candidates  only,  at  the  ensuing  election,  as  will  engage  to  exert 
themselves  in  carrying  INTO  IMMEDIATE  EFFECT  the  wisest  and  most 
practical  measures  for  the  speedy  extinction  of  slavery,  fyc" 

Mr.  Horton  concisely  explains  the  difference  between  the  conquered 
colonies,  and  the  old  possessions  of  the  crown :  the  latter  are  governed 
by  local  legislatures — the  former  regulated  by  orders  of  the  King  in 
Council.  In  the  case  of  the  former,  containing  300,000  slaves,  it  is 
clearly  shewn  not  to  be  the  fault  of  the  planters,  if  the  "  temperate  and 
prudent"  recommendations  of  the  government  have  not  been  carried  into 
full  effect,  te  and  will  you,  in  that  case/'  he  inquires  "  be  prepared  to  call 
for  the  sudden  extinction  of  slavery  in  those  colonies,  WITHOUT  EQUIT- 
ABLE COMPENSATION  ?"  If  compensation  is  to  be  granted,  "  what  is 
your  project,  and  where  are  your  funds  ?" 

But  it  may  be  said,  "  we  will  not  emancipate  the  slaves  in  the  ceded 
Colonies,  but  we  will  at  once  emancipate  those  in  the  Colonies  having 
local  legislatures."  If  justice  to  the  slave  be  the  object,  how  are  any 
principles  of  justice  to  be  reconciled  with  the  distinction  ? 

On  the  general  question,  Mr.  Horton  argues  that — 

"  If  a  state  of  Slavery  be  pronounced  to  be  so  repugnant  to  Christianity,  that 
delay  in  putting  an  end  to  it  is  a  breach  of  religious  duty, — that  argument 
appears  to  have  been  precisely  as  forcible,  at  the  time  of  the  Abolition  of  the 
Slave  Trade,  or  at  the  time  of  the  Resolutions  of  1823,  as  it  is  at  the  present 
moment.  In  1807,  however,  the  general  condition  of  the  Slaves  was  such  as 
to  make  the  problem  of  immediate  emancipation  still  more  awful  than  it  is  at 
present;  and  it  may  be  argued,  that  they  have  since  attained  a  degree  of  civi- 
lization, which  renders  it  more  safe  for  them  to  receive  their  freedom  than  it 
was  at  the  former  period.  But,  if  that  be  true,  it  can  only  have  arisen  from 
improved  treatment ;  and  precisely  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  the  imme- 
diate extinction  of  Slavery  is  contended  to  be  safe  and  practicable,  the  more  does 
satisfactory  equitable  compensation  become  due  to  the  West  Indian  proprietors." 

In  the  accuracy  and  justice  of  this  view  of  the  subject  every  rea- 
sonable man  must  concur  ;  and  it  clearly  follows,  either,  that  the  slaves 
are  still  unfit  for  emancipation ;  or,  if  they  are  fit,  that  the  planters  are 
the  more  fully  entitled  to  equitable  compensation  for  the  loss  of  their 
services.  Mr.  Horton  proves  the  accuracy  of  this  position,  by  reference 
to  the  opinions  of  M.  Wilberforce,  and  others.  Earl  Grey,  who  has, 
at  this  moment  of  difficulty,  been  called  to  the  helm  of  affairs,  expressed 
his  opinion  that  slavery  should  be  allowed  to  "  gradually  wear  out, 
without  the  immediate  intervention  of  any  positive  law,  in  like  manner 
as  took  place  in  the  states  of  Greece  and  Rome,  and  some  parts  of 
modern  Europe/' 

"  The  Abolition  of  Slavery,"  said  his  lordship,  "  must  be  gradually 
and  not  suddenly  effected,  and  this  both  on  the  principles  of  justice  to 
the  Planters,  and  also  to  the  Slaves  themselves.  For,  in  the  present 
reduced  circumstances  of  the  Slaves,  to  propose  their  immediate  emanci- 
pation, would  be  to  produce  horrors  similar  to  those  which  have  already 
happened  at  St.  Domingo." 

Other  eminent  statesmen  concurred  in  the  same  opinion ;  Mr.  Fox's 
language  was  still  more  decisive — 


1830.]  Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  *681 

"  With  regard  to  emancipation,  I  perfectly  agree  in  what  has  been  said,  that 
the  idea  of  an  Act  of  Parliament  to  emancipate  the  Slaves  in  the  West  Indies, 
without  the  consent  and  concurrent  feeling  of  all  parties  concerned,  both  in  this 
country  and  in  that,  would  not  only  be  mischievous  in  its  consequences,  but 
totally  extravagant  in  its  conception,  as  well  as  impracticable  in  its  execution,  and 
therefore  I  see  no  good  in  discussing  that  point." 

In  continuation  of  the  subject,  Mr.  Horton  inquires — 

"  Has  that  change  taken  place  in  the  condition  and  character  of  the  slave, 
which  is  insisted  upon  in  these  quotations  as  an  indispensable  preliminary  to 
any  emancipation,  much  more  to  sudden  emancipation  ?  If  it  has  taken  place, 
then  equitable  compensation  is  a  fortiori  due  to  the  West  Indian  proprietors, 
under  whose  improved  management  this  change,  impossible  under  other  circum- 
stances, has  taken  place.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has  not  taken  place,  I  would 
ask  you,  whether  the  authority  of  Lord  Lansdowne,  Lord  Grey,  Lord  Gren- 
ville,  Mr.  W.  Smith,  and  (last,  though  not  least,)  Mr.  Fox,  be  not  point-blanc 
against  the  expediency  of  the  sudden  extinction  of  slavery,  with  exclusive 
reference  to  the  well-being  of  the  slaves  themselves." 

Mr.  Horton  proceeds  to  shew  cause  why  a  more  rapid  improvement 
has  not  taken  place  since  the  Abolition  of  the  Slave  Trade  in  1807. 

"  An  incredible  number  of  Negroes  have  been  legally  or  clandestinely  im- 
ported into  the  Slave  Colonies  of  other  powers,  thereby  affording  a  bonus  on 
the  production  of  sugar  in  those  foreign  colonies,  to  the  prejudice  of  our  own. 
The  British  planters  have  had  a  losing  trade  to  carry  on  ;  and  the  slaves  have 
partaken  of  the  bad  consequences  which  are  inevitably  attendant  on  a  losing 
trade." 

We  have  no  hesitation  in  affirming,  that  if  the  present  depressed  state 
of  the  planters  continues,  the  negroes  will  undoubtedly  suffer  in  the 
ratio  of  that  depression. 

It  being  undeniable  that  the  abolitionists  unanimously  adopted  these 
unexceptionable  resolutions  of  1823,  pledging  the  legislature  to  such 
measures  only  as  might  be  compatible  with  an  equitable  consideration  of 
the  interests  of  private  property, — "  to  fritter  away"  that  phrase  by.  a 
mental  reservation,  that  there  can  be  no  equitable  interest  in  slave- 
property,  is  a  subterfuge  below  contempt. 

if  He  who  owns  slaves  now,"  says  Mr.  Alexander,  in  a  recent  pamphlet, 
"  is  surely  not  a  more  responsible  party  than  he  who  owned  them  ten,  or 
twenty,  or  thirty  years  ago  ;  who  converted  them  into  money,  and  who  now 
lives  in  splendour  upon  the  fortune  he  then  acquired.  If  restitution  is  to  be 
made,  it  is  not  the  present  holders  of  slaves  alone,  but  former  holders,  even  in 
the  third  or  fourth  remove,  who  ought  to  be  compelled  to  make  the  sacrifice. 
The  greater  part  of  the  fortune  of  Mr.  Fowel  Buxton  was  derived  from  slaves. 
He  is  consequently  as  responsible  as  Mr.  Goulburn,  or  any  other  present  pro- 
prietor of  slaves.  Mr.  Protheroe,  of  Bristol,  is  as  responsible  as  Sir  Thomas 
Lethbridge  or  Lord  Seaford.  Mr.  Zachary  Macauley  ought  to  contribute  to 
the  compensation  fund  nearly  three  times  as  much  as  my  Lord  Chandos;  Lord 
Calthorpe  is  as  responsible  as  the  Marquis  of  Sligo.  In  short,  there  are  very 
few  noble  or  eminent  families  in  the  country,  who  have  not  at  one  time  or 
another,  possessed  or  inherited  property  in  slaves.  Surely  these  persons  are 
as  much  entitled  to  make  restitution,  and  contribute  to  the  sacrifice,  as  you, 
the  present  embarrassed,  contemned,  and  slandered  proprietors  and  planters 
of  the  West  Indies." 

"  If  it  be  meant,"  says  Mr.  Horton,  commenting  on  an  election  speech, 
fc  that,  abstractedly  speaking,  man  ought  not  to  be  the  property  of  man,  I 
concur.  If  it  be  meant  that  in  consequence  of  that  abstract  truth,  the  West 
Indian  slaves  ought  to  be  emancipated,  without  compensation  to  the  planters 
for  any  injury  which  mav  result  from  such  emancipation,  I  dissent.  But  this 

M.M.  New  Scritt.—VoL.  X.  No.  60.        4  *R 


Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  [DEC. 

at  least  I  am  prepared  to  say,  that,  as  long  as  the  representatives  of  the  people 
loathe  rapine,  despise  fraud,  and  abhor  blood,  they  will  not  on  one  day  pledge 
themselves  to  the  equitable  consideration  of  the  interests  of  a  particular  class 
of  private  property,  and  on  a  future  day  maintain  that  the  pledge  was  not  bind- 
ing, inasmuch  as,  in  that  particular  class  of  property,  an  equitable  interest 
could  not  exist.  For,  if  they  do  thus  fritter  away  the  plain  meaning  of  the 
English  language,  they  cannot  '  despise  fraud/  and  who  knows  but  that 
rapine  and  blood  may  be  the  result  of  such  glaring  tergiversation  ?" 

We  have  quoted  freely  from  this  pamphlet,  which  is  written  in 
the  bold  and  manly  language  of  truth ;  and  we  repeat,  nearly  in  the 
words  of  Mr.  Horton,  that  unless  all  persons  taking  an  interest  in 
the  agitation  of  this  question  of  Abolition,  take  pains  to  inform  them- 
selves of  its  real  merits,  they  may  be  guilty  of  the  greatest,  and  most 
unpardonable  injustice  ! 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Duncan,  minister  of  Ruthwell,  a  distinguished  mem- 
ber of  the  Church  of  Scotland, — the  originator  and  promoter  of  parish 
banks  and  other  benevolent  institutions  for  the  benefit  of  the  indus- 
trious poor,  has  also  directed  his  attention  to  this  momentous  subject. 
In  a  series  of  letters,  addressed  to  the  late  Colonial  Secretary,  he  has 
clearly  pointed  out,  that  slavery  is  not  prohibited  by  express  Christian 
precept ;  that  our  slaves  are  not  yet  arrived  at  that  period  when  eman- 
cipation would  be  a  benefit  to  them,  although  he  demonstrates  that  a 
progressive  improvement  has,  and  is  daily  taking  place,  and  that  the 
period  is  advancing,  when  emancipation  will  become  the  interest  of 
the  planters.  On  this  last  part  of  the  subject,  we  confess  that  we 
are  sceptical,  unless  the  question  be  conjoined  with  that  of  compen- 
sation. He  points  out  in  the  true  spirit  of  a  Christian  pastor,  the  duty 
of  the  government  and  of  the  public  at  home, — the  duty  of  the  West 
India  proprietors,  and  concludes  with  some  excellent  observations  on 
the  people  of  colour — their  condition  and  the  means  of  its  improvement 
-•-the  extent  and  consequences  of  the  foreign  Slave  Trade,  and,  finally, 
with  a  view  to  that  gradual  amelioration,  which  must  precede  the 
emancipation  of  the  slaves,  he  points  out  the  necessity  of  reducing 
taxes  on  West  Indian  produce. 

"  Meetings,"  says  the  Reverend  Doctor,  "  have  been  held,  and  petitions 
have  been  prepared,  against  slavery  as  it  exists  in  our  colonies ;  and  these 
are,  doubtless,  only  a  prelude  to  steps  of  a  similar  nature  in  other  parts  of  the 
United  Kingdom;  while  publications  have  issued  from  the  press,  intended,  by 
exciting  the  public  indignation  against  the  colonists,  and  by  depreciating  the 
value  of  the  colonies,  to  hurry  on  a  crisis,  which,  if  premature,  it  is  impos- 
sible for  any  sober-thinking  and  impartial  man  to  contemplate  without  alarm. 
Every  one  sees  the  absurdity  of  sending  the  negroes  back  to  Africa ;  and  it 
will,  I  think,  require  no  great  effort  of  reasoning  to  shew,  that  immediate 
manumission,  in  any  shape,  could  not  fail  to  be  a  curse  instead  of  a  blessing — 
that  it  would  add  injury  to  injury,  and  would  crown  all,  by  preparing,  for  a 
whole  people,  inevitable  ruin,  under  the  insidious  and  insulting  name  of  a 
boon." 

If  there  were  any  direct  precept  in  the  word  of  God  declaring  slavery 
unlawful,  this  would  be  decisive  of  the  question.  But  the  Mosaic  Law 
"  not  only  permitted,  but  sanctioned  by  express  statute,  the  holding  of 
heathen  slaves ;  and,  what  is  more,  allowed  the  temporary  bondage, 
and  by  consent  of  the  party — a  consent  rendered  irrevocable  by  certain 
public  forms — even  the  perpetual  slavery  of  individuals  among  the 
chosen  people  themselves ;"  and  what  is  of  much  greater  consequence 


1830.]  .Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  *683 

that  "  in  all  the  injunctions  of  our  Saviour,  and  in  all  the  writings  of 
his  apostles,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  New  Testament, 
there  is  not  a  single  precept  directly  condemning  the  state  of  servitude 
to  which  the  laws  and  customs  of  the  world  had,  in  their  days,  reduced 
so  large  a  proportion  of  the  lower  orders ;  and  that,  on  the  contrary, 
there  are  many  directions  given  to  Christian  masters  as  to  the  treatment 
of  their  slaves,  (for  such  is  the  meaning  of  the  word  douloi,  translated  in 
our  version,  servants,}  and  to  Christian  slaves  as  to  the  duty  which  they 
owe  their  masters,  which  all  tacitly,  but  unequivocally  infer,  that  the 
condition  was  not  positively  prohibited." 

On  the  subject  of  the  unfitness  of  the  slaves  for  present  freedom,  he 
remarks  that— - 

"  It  is  now  twenty-two  years  since  the  slave  trade  was  put  down  by  law, 
arid  although  it  is  but  justice  to  remark,  that  for  many  years  no  new  slaves 
have  been  brought  from  Africa  into  our  dependencies,  not  less  than  a  fourth 
part  of  the  whole  black  population,  even  in  our  oldest  colonies,  still  consists  of 
imported  Africans,  while  in  those  which  have  fallen  into  our  possession  at  a 
later  date,  the  proportion  is  much  greater.  These  Africans,  being  chiefly 
savage  warriors  taken  in  battle,  brought  along  with  them  all  the  ignorance,  all 
the  prejudice,  and  all  the  superstitious  and  immoral  practices  of  their 
countrymen." 

It  was  therefore  difficult  to  govern,  enlighten,  or  reform  them,  and 
the  necessity  of  enforcing  order,  and  of  superinducing  quiet  habits  of 
industry,  must  have  been  as  painful  as  it  was  urgent.  The  Doctor 
adduces  the  examples  of  Haiti  and  Sierra  Leone,  in  illustration  of 
the  danger  of  rash  proceedings.  "  It  is  well  known,  that  throughout 
'  our  West  Indian  possessions,  the  greater  part  of  the  free  labourers  and 
manumitted  slaves  have  acquired  indolent  and  dissolute  habits.  They 
are  indeed  said  to  be  almost  entirely  without  property ;  for  the  most 
part  either  supported  by  their  former  masters,  or  living  in  an  idle  and 
worthless  manner." — And  there  seems  every  reason  to  believe  that  the 
slaves,  if  prematurely  emancipated,  would  fall  back  into  the  same 
destructive  habits. 

The  influence  of  religion  is,  in  the  Doctor's  opinion,  much  to  be 
depended  upon,  in  bringing  about  a  gradual  change. 

te  Christianity  is,  in  its  spirit  and  tendency,  decidedly  hostile  to  every  kind 
of  arbitrary  power,  yet  it  does  not,  by  express  statute,  interfere  with  existing 
.institutions ;  but,  with  a  wisdom  truly  divine,  leaves  religion  to  work  its  resist- 
less, though  often  silent  and  gentle  way,  and,  by  convincing  the  judgment  and 
affecting  the  heart,  gradually  sheds  over  the  face  of  society  its  substantial  and 
enduring  blessings,  of  a  temporal,  as  well  as  of  a  spiritual  nature.  It  follows 
from  this,  as  a  legitimate  conclusion,  that,  when  Christians  find  themselves  in 
actual  possession  of  slaves,  they  are  not  required  instantly,  and  without  in- 
quiry into  consequences,  to  break  up  the  connection  which  has  thus  been 
formed  between  them  and  their  fellow-men,  as  if  that  connection  were,  under 
all  circumstances,  sinful ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  they  are  constrained  by 
duty  to  consider  themselves  placed  in  a  situation  of  the  highest  responsibility, 
and  charged  by  Providence  with  the  care,  not  merely  of  their  worldly  comfort 
and  advantage,  but  of  their  intellectual  improvement,  and  of  their  moral  and 
religious  education.  If  immediate  manumission  be  inconsistent  with  such 
'  objects,  it  is  plainly  inconsistent  with  the  Christian  obligation  of  masters ;  and 
therefore,  so  far  from  being  required,  may  safely  be  regarded  as  forbidden,  by 
the  spirit  of  our  holy  religion.  *  *  *  The  negro  population  is,  at  present, 
altogether  unfit  for  liberty,  and  would,  by  being  turned  loose  on  society,  be 
materially  injured,  both  as  regards  their  temporal  and  spiritual  interests." 

4  *R  2 


*C84  Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  [DEC. 

The  great  improvement  which  has  gradually  taken  place  since  the 
abolition  of  the  Slave  Trade,  and  the  causes  of  that  improvement,  are 
clearly  traced  out.  The  negroes  themselves  are  not  insensible  to  the 
principal  cause,  which  is  proverbially  expressed  in  every  colony  in  this 
sentence — "  Good  massa  make  good  nigger." 

On  the  progress  of  religious  instruction  in  Jamaica,  Dr.  Duncan 
quotes  the  following  letter  from  "  a  young  but  intelligent  and  excellent 
friend"  of  his  own— 

"  To  a  religious  mind,  Jamaica  presents  a  most  animating  prospect.  On 
all  sides  the  work  of  conversion  is  going  on.  My  time  is  much  spent  in 
moving  about  among  the  properties  I  have  the  charge  of.  1  like  the  manage- 
ment much.  It  is  all  conducted  on  Christian  principles: — no  oppression, — 
no  attempt  to  keep  the  negroes  in  ignorance.  Marriages  are  multiplying — 
the  Sunday  congregations  are  enlarging,  and  the  Sunday  schools  are  well 
attended.  It  is  a  delightful  sight  to  see  the  little  negro  children,  who  have 
been  taught  to  read,  winningly  and  affectionately  endeavouring  to  instruct 
their  ignorant  parents." 

Let  any  unprejudiced  person  of  common  sense,  compare  this  short 
statement — (which  is  amply  confirmed  by  the  recent  report  of  the 
Church  Missionary  Society) — with  the  allegations  contained  in  most 
of  the  petitions  recently  presented  to  Parliament,  and  say  whether  the 
planters  are,  or  are  not,  by  these  petitions,  grossly  calumniated. 

In  regard  to  compulsory  emancipation,  the  Doctor  argues  very  ably 
against  the  injudicious  application  of  the  rude  hand  of  power. 

"  The  slave-masters  themselves,  are  undoubtedly  the  best  judges  of  what 
improvements  the  present  condition  of  the  negroes  will  bear.  *  *  *  * 
They  must  be  gently  conducted  by  the  light  of  civilization,  and  above  all,  of 
religion ;  and  thus,  as  the  Scripture  strikingly  expresses  it — '  wisdom  and 
knowledge'  will  become  '  the  stability  of  their  times.'  The  difficulty  lies,  as  I 
have  said,  in  the  transition.  When  the  light  first  breaks  in  on  eyes,  which 
have  long  been  held  in  unnatural  darkness,  it  dazzles  and  misleads  ;  and  the 
excesses  to  which  it  may  give  rise,  are  dreadful  to  contemplate.  Now,  the 
black  population  of  the  West  Indies  is  precisely  in  this  situation  ;  and  nothing 
can  require  more  delicacy  and  prudence  than  the  management  of  such  a  crisis. 
To  this  task,  a  distant  authority,  which  can,  at  best,  be  but  partially  informed,  and 
which  is  liable  to  be  guided  by  feeling  and  theory,  rather  than  by  judgment  and 
experience,  is  scarcely  competent ;  and,  therefore,  do  I  earnestly  deprecate  a  rash 
legislation  at  home." 

Speaking  of  the  evil  resulting  from  the  feeble  and  vacillating  atti- 
tudes in  which  successive  cabinets  have  placed  themselves,  and  of  that 
shrinking  from  responsibility,  which  we  ^have  repeatedly  deprecated, 
it  is  very  justly  observed,  "that  it  has  been  attended  with  much  evil, 
and  can  no  longer  be  persisted  in,  without  the  most  ruinous  conse- 
quences. Scarcely  any  measures,  however  erroneous,  if  firmly  and  con- 
sistently pursued,  could  lead  to  more  distressing  results.  Mercantile 
confidence  has  been  undermined — colonial  produce  has  ceased  to  bring 
a  remunerating  price — the  value  of  West  India  property  has  declined, 
till  it  has  become  almost  unsaleable — and  a  general  gloom,  accompanied 
with  irritation,  prevails  throughout  the  colonies.  A  little  longer,  and 
if  such  a  course  be  continued,  the  West  Indies  will  fall  into  utter  deso- 
lation." 

In  this  view  of  the  subject  we  most  heartily  concur ;  and  we  may 
further  add,  that  the  vacillation  of  ministers  in  the  management  of  this 
question,  and  the  constant  struggle  which  has,  in  consequence,  been 


1830.]  Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  *685 

kept  up  between  the  colonists  and  their  sectarian  opponents,  have 
enabled  the  leaders  of  the  latter  to  inflame  their  ungovernable  zeal 
and  unite  their  strength,  while  the  former  have  been  irritated  to  a 
degree,  that  has  now  rendered  its  adjustment  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of 
all  parties,  we  fear,  utterly  impossible,  and  may  yet  create  not  only  much 
embarrassment  at  home,  but  materially  affect  the  integrity  of  the 
empire. 

The  necessity  of  a  full  inquiry,  on  the  part  of  government,  into  the 
actual  state  of  society  in  the  Colonies  is  strongly  insisted  upon  ;  and  it  is 
suggested  that  as  many  of  the  resident  proprietors,  managers  and  over- 
seers are  from  Scotland,  the  protection  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  by 
government,  might  be  attended  with  good  effects.  Into  this  part  of  the 
subject  we  do  not,  however,  propose  to  enter  ;  neither  is  it  necessary  for 
us  to  say  much  on  the  degree  of  responsibility  which  attaches  to  the 
mother  country  for  having  originally  instituted  slavery  in  the  Colonies, 
that  point  being  already,  we  believe,  tolerably  well  understood,  even  by 
the  anti-slavery  writers  themselves,  one  of  whom  expressly  admits  that 
"  the  crime  of  creating  and  upholding  the  slavery  of  the  West  Indies,  is  a 
national  crime,  and  not  the  crime  of  the  slave-holders  alone.  For  the  loss, 
therefore,  which  individuals  may  incur  by  its  abolition,  they  have  a  claim 
upon  the  public." 

We  would  here  remark  that  the  losses  actually  sustained  by  the 
slave-holders  through  the  measures  of  the  abolitionists,  call  already,  in 
common  justice,  for  serious  investigation  and  remuneration. 

Dr.  Duncan,  in  the  able  letters  before  us,  takes  much  pains  to  explain 
the  past  and  present  condition  of  the  free-people  of  colour,  and  the  means 
which  in  his  opinion  should  be  adopted  for  their  improvement.  We  are 
not  so  certain  of  the  accuracy  of  the  Doctor's  views  of  this  part  of  the 
question,  which  we  conceive  more  likely  to  be  regulated  by  the  conduct 
of  the  wealthy  part  of  the  brown  people  themselves,  than  by  legislative 
enactments,  or  the  exertions  of  the  whites ;  but  we  give  the  Doctor 
every  credit  for  his  benevolent  intentions. 

On  the  extent  and  consequences  of  the  Foreign  Slave  Trade,  it  is  very 
appositely  pointed  out,  that  a  benevolent  zeal  is  apt  to  over-reach  its 
mark  by  the  too  exclusive  views  which  it  takes  of  one  object. 

"  I  do  not  say,"  observes  Dr.  Duncan,  fc  that  those  who,  with  such  credit- 
able ardour  and  ability,  took  the  lead  in  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade,  have 
withheld  their  efforts  for  putting  down  the  evil  in  every  other  part  of  the  civi- 
lized world  ;  but  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  their  vigilance  and  perseverance 
have  considerably  relaxed ;  and  I  must  distinctly  state,  that,  in  the  new  direction 
to  which  their  philanthropy  has  been  turned,  they  have  in  a  great  degree  lost  sight 
of  the  unhappy  effect  that  their  attacks  on  the  West  India  system  are  necessarily 
calculated  to  produce,  in  perpetuating  among  other  nations  the  traffic  in  human 
flesh,  which  Britain  has  so  honourably  abandoned" 

And  the  unhappy  consequences  to  Africa  and  Africans  are  very  for- 
cibly dwelt  upon.— 

"  If  it  can  be  proved,"  says  he,  "  that  the  difficulties  under  which  these 
West  Indian  dependencies  labour  are  the  chief  cause  of  the  commercial  enter- 
prise of  other  countries,  which  gives  such  encouragement  to  the  foreign  traffic 
in  slaves,  it  must  follow,  that,  to  relieve  them  from  these  difficulties,  if  not  the 
only  means,  must,  at  least  be  a  very  powerful  means  of  repressing  and  of 
finally  extinguishing  that  traffic." 

And  he  concludes  this  part  of  the  subject  by  a  powerful  appeal  to  our 
abolitionists,  entreating  them  "  to  pause  in  the  course  they  are  pursuing, 
that  they  may  consider  whether  their  philanthropic  object  might  not  be 


*686  Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  [DEC. 

better  attained  by  changing  their  plans,  and  again  turning  their  ener- 
gies towards  that  direction  in  which  they  were  first  impelled." 

But  we  fear  this  appeal  will  be  in  vain,  unless  government  assume  a 
more  decisive  attitude  in  the  management  of  this  question,  than  they 
have  hitherto  done. 

In  considering  the  necessity  of  reducing  taxation  on  West  India  pro- 
duce, the  Doctor  forcibly  points  out  the  impolicy  and  injustice  of  con- 
tinuing the  present  high  rates,  which  operate  equally  against  the  revenue 
and  the  cause  of  humanity,  and  in  conclusion  he  says — 

"  If  I  could  flatter  myself  that  my  feeble  voice  would  reach  those  influ- 
ential individuals,  who,  by  directing  the  destinies  of  this  great  empire,  hold  in 
their  hands  the  springs  which  move  the  civilized  world,  I  would  tell  -  them 
respectfully,  but  plainly  and  honestly,  that  the  interests,  not  of  our  colonies 
only,  but  of  Africa,  and  of  Britain  itself,  are  involved  in  the  manner  in  which 
they  acquit  themselves  of  the  important  duties  which  belong  to  the  colonial 
department — that  other  administrations,  by  trifling  with  a  subject  of  such 
mighty  importance,  have  treasured  up  for  their  present  successors  a  responsi- 
bility of  no  common  magnitude — that  the  time  is  arrived  when  the  question, 
in  all  its  bearings,  must  force  itself  on  the  public  attention, — and  that  the 
country  looks  confidently  to  their  firmness  and  political  sagacity  for  the  sup- 
pression of  such  overwhelming  evils  ; — in  the  West  Indies,  by  the  restoration 
of  amity  and  confidence  between  master  and  slave,  and  between  the  white 
inhabitants  and  the  mother  country — in  Africa,  by  the  final  abolition  of  that 
traffic  which  has  so  long  been  the  opprobrium  of  humanity — and  in  Britain, 
by  the  establishment  of  a  wise  and  paternal  system  of  government,  which  may 
impart  its  blessings  equally  to  all,  and  which  may  unite  in  the  bands  of  mutual 
sympathy  every  class  of  his  Majesty's  subjects  in  every  quarter  of  his  vast 
dominions." 

We  have  at  the  present  crisis,  been  so  anxious  to  place  these  impor- 
tant subjects  before  our  readers,  that  we  have  left  ourselves  very  little 
space  to  notice  Mr.  Gladstone's  (of  Liverpool)  very  able  statement  of  facts 
connected  with  the  present  state  of  slavery  in  the  British  sugar  and  cof- 
fee Colonies,  and  in  the  United  States  of  America ; — with  which  is  con- 
trasted a  view  of  the  present  situation  of  the  lower  classes  in  the  United 
Kingdom — a  subject,  which,  partly  in  consequence  of  the  disgraceful 
clamours  raised  by  the  sectarians  about  negro  slavery — has  been  most 
shamefully  overlooked.  "  I  think,"  says  Mr.  Gladstone,  "  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted, that  in  all  countries  situated  within  the  tropics,  where  society  is 
formed  of  the  aboriginal  inhabitants,  it  has  been  found  existing  either 
under  a  despotic  form  of  government,  where  slavery  has  ever  prevailed 
in  its  worst  forms  and  effects,  or  in  a  state  of  savage  life." 

He  very  clearly  points  out  the  peculiarities  of  the  negro  character,  and 
the  dreadful  consequences  of  premature  emancipation,  which  he  ex- 
emplifies by  reference  to  what  took  place  in  Cayenne. 

"  When  freedom  was  given  to  the  negroes  there,  during  the  most  intemperate 
period  of  the  French  revolution,  and  which  state  of  freedom  was  afterwards 
followed  by  the  restoration  of  slavery  under  increased  disadvantages,  '  when 
though  the  interval  was  short,  their  numbers  were  found  to  be  reduced  one-half 
or  more,  by  civil  strife  and  dissension,  degrading  cruelties,  unbounded  licentious- 
ness, and  disease.'  " 

Here  is  a  picture  for  the  contemplation  of  our  violent  abolitionists, 
which  with  that  exhibited  in  another  French  dependency  (Haiti),  as 
well  as  the  condition  of  the  American  slaves  liberated  during  the  late 
war,  and  ^  ariously  located — should  be  their  constant  study.  Mr.  Glad- 
stone demonstrates  the  absurdity  of  various  plans  of  immediate  eman- 
cipation, and  adds : — 


1830.]  Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  *687 

"  But  it  may  be  asked,  is  slavery  then  to  be  interminable  in  our  colonies,  or 
what  is  the  course  meant  to  be  followed  ?  I  humbly  conceive,  it  is  not  for  me 
to  attempt  to  say  when  a  system  should  terminate  which  Almighty  God,  in  the 
divine  wisdom  of  his  over-ruling  providence,  has  seen  fit  to  permit  in  certain 
climates  since  the  origin  and  formation  of  society  in  this  world;  whilst  in  other 
climates,  where  man  is  found  in  a  more  civilized  state,  and  influenced  by  dif- 
ferent feelings,  the  same  purposes  have  been  answered  by  those  distinctions 
which  rank  and  subordination  have  created." 

He  affirms  that  the  measures  already  adopted  by  Parliament  are 
quite  sufficient  for  the  gradual  abolition  of  the  system. 

In  the  United  States,  a  republican  government,  jealous  of  freedom  and 
of  the  rights  of  its  citizens;  with  a  people  every  where  advocating 
humane  and  liberal  principles  ;  individually  watching  over  their  privi- 
leges ;  to  whom  the  distinctions  of  rank  and  subordination  are  almost 
invidious ;  where  no  want  of  strong  religious  feeling  nor  of  a  sense  of 
duty  exists ;  where  institutions  and  societies  abound  for  promoting 
the  temporal  and  eternal  interests  of  the  community  ;  and  where  the 
labour  of  the  slaves  are  in  general  much  more  severe  than  in  the  British 
Colonies, 

"  We  hear  of  no  petitions,  of  no  applications  from  the  people  to  their  legis- 
lature, to  put  a  period  to  the  existence  of  slavery,  such  as  our  Parliament  con- 
tinues to  be  incessantly  assailed  with.  And  why  ?  The  truth  is,  they  live 
in  the  same  land,  where  all  have  constant  opportunities  of  observation,  and  therefore 
become  intimately  acquainted  with  the  character  and  habits  of  the  negro,  the 
nature  of  his  gratifications,  and  his  ruling  passions.  This  knowledge  leads 
them  to  acquiesce  in  the  existing  state  of  things,  as  necessary  and  unavoidable, 
whilst  they  know  that  the  comforts  and  wants  of  the  slaves  are  cared  for  and 
attended  to." 

However  unpalatable  this  view  of  the  subject  may  be  to  the  immediate 
abolitionists,  it  is  very  necessary  to  take  it  into  deliberate  consideration 
in  viewing  the  difficulties  of  the  subject.  Mr.  Gladstone  makes  a 
powerful  appeal  to  the  warm-hearted  abolitionists,  in  favour  of  the  work- 
ing classes  at  home* — 

"  Let  them,  among  other  quarters  where  large  bodies  of  the  working  classes 
are  congregated  together,  visit  those  immense  buildings  in  which  the  manufac- 
tures in  cotton  and  in  metals  are  carried  on;  let  them  encounter  the  increased 
degree  of  heat,  and  offensive,  if  not  unwholesome,  effluvia  with  which  they 
abound ;  let  them  behold  the  squalid  looks  of  most  of  the  people  that  labour 
within  them,  pinched  to  earn  enough  to  purchase  the  common  necessaries  of 
life  for  themselves  and  their  families,  whilst  they  are  generally  strangers  to 
its  comforts." 

He  then  adverts  to  the  state  of  the  labourers  throughout  the  country 
generally,  and  adds — 

"  Let  them  visit  Ireland,  and  enter  the  hut  of  the  poor  peasant  where  no 
poor  laws  exist  to  aid  or  diminish  his  wants ;  let  them  examine  his  hollow 
looks,  his  wretched  clothing,  insufficient  to  cover  hisnakedness,  his  want  of  em- 
ployment, though  willing  to  work,  and  his  ignorance  of  both  his  rights  and  his 
duties  ;  let  them  examine  his  dwelling,  inhabited  promiscuously  by  his  family 
and  his  pigs,  all  partaking  of  the  same  food,  and  that  too  often  in  scanty  sup- 
ply, where  in  untoward  seasons,  when  prematurely  exhausted,  he  has  been 
left  to  starve  and  perish,  unheeded  and  uncared  for  !" — "  Let  them  then  visit 

*  We  trust  it  will  not  be  thrown  away.  No  state  of  slavery  can  be  more  miserable 
than  that  of  the  poor  children  in  the  cotton  manufactories  at  Bradford.  Children  under 
fourteen  have  here  been  destined  to  labour  thirteen  hours  a  day — with  only  one  solitary  half- 
hour's  cessation  from  their  toil !  !  !  Like  charity,  abolition  should  begin  at  home. — Ed. 


Letters  on  the  West  India  Question.  [[DEC. 

the  Colonies  and  compare  the  negro's  state  with  that  of  the  lower  classes  here, 
and  then  determine  which  calls  most  loudly  for  their  benevolent  efforts  in  their 
favour  !  I  may  be  told,  the  slave  in  our  colonies  works  from  compulsion,  the 
labourer  here  from  choice.  Granted  ;  and  I  beg  to  ask,  what  is  that  choice  ?  Is 
it  not  either  to  submit  to  labour,  for  a  bare  subsistence,  or  to  leave  it  and  starve,  or 
become  degraded  in  his  own  mind  by  the  acceptance  of  the  scanty  pittance 
which  parish  relief  affords?  I  ask,  can  this  be  a  desirable  state  of  things,  and 
how  much  does  it  fall  short  of  positive  wretchedness  ?  Then,  surely,  here  is 
an  ample  field  at  home  for  the  exertions  and  the  sympathies  of  the  benevolent 
and  well  disposed,  who  interest  themselves  so  much  in  the  well-being  of 
others." 

Even  on  the  subject  of  Sunday  markets,  Mr.  Gladstone  shews  clearly 
that  there  is  abundant  room  for  exertion  at  home.  "  Let  me  invite  them," 
says  he,  "  to  visit  Covent  Garden,"  and  we  may  add  every  street  inha- 
bited by  the  lower  orders  in  London,  "  and  other  similar  markets,  on  a 
Sabbath  morning,  where  they  will  find  all  the  people  busily  employed, 
as  on  any  other  day  of  the  week — selling  their  fruits  foreign  and 
domestic,  their  roots,  and  their  vegetables;  and  if  they  find  I  am  correct 
in  this  statement,  let  them  take  shame  to  themselves  for  being  occupied 
with  attempts  at  reforming  in  distant  parts  of  which  they  have  no  per- 
sonal knowledge,  and  neglecting  the  scenes  that  are  passing  under  their 
eyes  and  in  the  very  front  of  the  church  !" 

Mr.  Gladstone  concludes,  by  recommending  to  the  government,  for  the 
purpose  of  satisfying  the  public  mind,  that  commissioners  should  be  sent 
out  to  the  colonies  with  full  authority  to  examine  and  report  upon  the 
state  of  society  there;  a  measure  in  which  we  are  quite  sure  every 
sensible  West  Indian  would  most  cheerfully  acquiesce. 

We  had  intended  to  make  some  observations  on  certain  very  erroneous 
opinions  contained  in  a  letter  of  Mr.  Gait,  on  the  West  Indian  question, 
which  has  appeared  in  a  contemporary  periodical ;  but  we  must  defer 
this  till  a  future  opportunity. 


NOTES  OF  THE  MONTH  ON  AFFAIRS  IN  GENERAL. 

WE  have  no  inclination  to  take  any  of  the  onus  off  Judge  Parke  or 
Judge  Garrow,  in  their  next  trial  of  St.  John  Long.  But  as  they  seem 
to  be  no  great  lawyers  on  such  points,  we  shall  give  them  the  law  of  the 
case : — 

By  3  Geo.  IV.,  ch.  38,  persons  convicted  of  manslaughter  are  to  be 
transported  for  life,  or  for  any  term  of  years  at  the  discretion  of  the  court, 
or  to  be  imprisoned  in  the  Common  Gaol,  House  of  Correction,  or  Peni- 
tentiary, f  3r  not  more  than  three  years  ;  or  they  may  be  fined  at  the 
discretion  of  the  court.  But  this  discretion  of  the  court  is  now  taken 
away;  for,  by  7  and  8  Geo.  IV.  ch.  28,  sec.  11,  upon  a  subsequent 
conviction  they  are  to  be  transported  for  life,  or  not  less  than  seven  years, 
or  be  imprisoned  for  a  period  not  exceeding  four  years ;  and,  if  a  male, 
to  be  once,  twice,  or  thrice  publicly  or  privately  whipped,  in  addition 
to  such  imprisonment — but  it  must  be  alleged  in  the  indictment  to  be 
a  second  offence. 

Such,  we  humbly  submit  to  those  learned  judges,  is  the  law  ;  and  we 
equally  submit  to  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution  that  they  should  look 
carefully  to  the  indictment,  and  see  that  it  marks  the  present  to  be  the 
second  offence  !  We  have  no  doubt  that  the  fashionable  personages  who 
attended  Mr.  St.  John  Long  will  be  very  much  grieved  at  seeing  him 
sent  to  jail,  or  hearing  that  he  is  transported ;  but  we  fear  they  must 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  689 

acquiesce  in  the  necessity  of  the  case,  and  look  out  for  some  other  rubber 
of  their  backs  and  bosoms. 

As  to  Captain  Loyd  and  his  unlucky  wife,  we  know  not  what  species 
of  brains  may  have  been  vouchsafed  to  them ;  but  to  us  it  seems  the  most 
extraordinary  idea  in  the  lady  to  have  anticipated  illness  by  making  her- 
self ill ;  and  in  the  Captain,  to  have  patronized  so  ready  a  contrivance 
for  getting  rid  of  "  all  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to."  As  to  the  quack 
himself,  we  can  almost  pardon  his  ignorance  for  the  sake  of  his  tempta- 
tion. When  he  saw  the  old  radical  Burdett,  who  is  as  tenacious  of  a 
farthing  as  another  man  would  be  of  a  guinea,  coming  to  be  rubbed  at 
the  expense  of  a  fee,  he  must  have  thought  himself  qualified  to  work 
more  miracles  than  upon  the  lady ;  or,  when  he  saw  the  Marchioness  of 
Ormond  coming,  with  her  three  daughters  in  hand,  to  be  rubbed  by  him  ; 
or  half  a  hundred  others,  of  the  same  class,  as  "  silly  as  their  sheep," 
soliciting  him  for  a  cheering  drop  of  aquafortis,  or  a  cooling  lotion  of  oil 
of  vitriol,  he  must  have  believed  that  either  the  people  were  mad,  or  he 
was  something  supernatural.  When  the  money  of  these  titled  fools  came 
pouring  in  upon  him,  who  can  wonder  if  he  held  out  his  hand  to  grasp 
it.  They  would  have  thrown  it  away  on  some  other  absurdity — for  such 
people  are  palpably  incapable  of  making  any  rational  use  of  money  ;  and 
if  St.  John  had  absorbed  their  guineas  by  the  thousand,  in  return  for  his 
bottles  of  spirits  of  wine,  dear  to  the  hearts  of  ladies  of  a  certain  age ;  or 
his  prepared  drams,  which  some  of  them  seem  to  have  adopted  as  regular 
cosmetics,  and  others  as  merely  the  pleasant  companions  of  their  private 
hours, — we  should  have  had  no  tears  for  the  diminished  purses  of  those 
ridiculous  people. 

But  what  we  abominate  in  the  fellow  is  his  gross  heartlessness.  When 
he  saw  that  poor  Miss  Cashin  was  dying — the  victim  much  less  of  the 
quack  than  of  the  foolish  woman  who  put  her  into  his  hands — we  find 
no  regret  for  the  unfortunate  creature's  agony — no  alarm  for  its  conse- 
quences, which  he  must  have  dreaded — not  a  syllable  of  anything  but 
congratulation  on  the  charming  effect  of  his  medicine  ;— and  upon  this 
he  takes  his  hat,  and  walks  away  to  some  similar  operation.  The  girl 
is  dying  at  the  moment,  in  the  most  horrid  of  all  sufferings — the  tortures 
of  coming  mortification ;  he  offers  no  mitigation,  or  none  of  any  use. 
We  hear  of  nothing  further,  but  the  fruitless  calling  in  of  a  surgeon  by 
the  family  :  the  surgeon  finds  that  he  can  do  nothing— and  the  poor  girl 
perishes.  It  is  utterly  impossible  to  believe  that  the  judges,  on  this 
occasion,  were  more  correct  in  their  law  than  they  were  true  to  common 
sense.  The  law  allows  no  man  to  say  one  thing,  and  do  another — to  sell 
potatoe-flour  for  wheat,  or  dose  us  with  sawdust  or  plaister  of  Paris  for 
the  assize  loaf. 

In  like  manner,  it  cannot  suffer  a  quack  to  sell  us  poison  for  medicine, 
or  rub  us  into  a  mortification,  on  the  pretext  of  securing  us  against  con- 
sumption. In  fact,  the  law  is  created  for  the  protection  of  the  subject 
against  all  evil  doers ;  it  smites  the  swindler  of  a  sixpence — and  why 
shall  it  not  smite  the  swindler  of  a  life  ?  Why  does  it  demand  that 
medical  men  shall  take  degrees  at  colleges,  except  for  the  purpose  of 
securing  us  against  the  ignorance  of  quacks  ;  and  if  those  precautions 
are  universal  in  all  civilized  countries,  why  is  a  fellow  like  St.  John 
Long  to  be  suffered  to  practise  on  the  credulity  of  hypocondriacs 
and  pampered  women,  with  more  money  than  brains  ?  It  is  to 
prevent  fools  from  being  duped  by  their  own  folly,  that  three- 

M.M.  New  Series— VOL.  X.  No.  59.  4  S 


690  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [Due. 

fourths  of  all  laws  are  made ;  and  we  cannot  conceive  how  Mr.  Justice 
Parke,  however  given  to  story- telling  and  nonsense— or  Mr.  Justice 
Garrow,  though  the  gout  in  his  toes  had  bewildered  his  memory — could 
have  laid  down  dicta  which  undoubtedly  go  to  sanction  all  the  experimen- 
talists in  human  folly.  But  St.  John  Long  is  now  to  be  tried  again ; 
and  on  the  result  of  the  trial  will  depend,  whether  we  are  to  be  inun- 
dated by  a  race  of  pretenders,  hazardous  to  life;  or  they  are  to  be 
deterred  by  an  example — which,  to  be  salutary,  must  be  prompt  and 
severe. — Vide  page  656. 

Reform  must  take  place.  The  last  Parliament  made  every  honest  man 
in  the  country  sick  of  the  present  state  of  things.  Its  whole  composition 
was  so  base;  it  truckled  so  scandalously  to  every  successive  administra- 
tion ;  barter  and  bribe  were  so  palpably  inscribed  on  its  portal, — that  a 
nation  of  common  sense  or  common  honesty  could  no  longer  suffer  its 
concerns  to  be  transacted  by  such  hands.  Its  dissolution  may  have  saved 
a  serious  catastrophe.  But  the  present  parliament,  formed  on  the  same 
model,  must  be  watched,  and  must  be  purified.  It,  doubtless,  contains 
individuals  too  high-minded  to  suffer  villany  to  be  passed  by  in  silence  ; 
and  so  far,  a  reform  is  beginning  to  work ;  but  we  must  have  the  reform 
more  than  theoretic.  It  must  be  secured  by  a  change  in  the  mode  of 
election,  and  by  a  general  purification  of  the  electors,  and  the  represen- 
tatives together.  What  is  the  present  condition  of  Scotland?  The 
people  have  actually  scarcely  any  votes.  The  whole  is  in  the  hands  of 
a  few  corporators,  and  the  consequence  is  that  the  Scotch  members  are 
always  among  the  most  inveterate  supporters  of et  His  Majesty's  Minis- 
ters for  the  time  being." 

On  the  late  debate,  which  flung  Wellington  headlong  out  of  power, 
what  was  the  conduct  of  the  Scotch  members  ?  Out  of  the  forty-five, 
the  votes  for  the  Treasury  Bench  were  twenty-nine ;  against  it  seven ; 
the  remaining  nine  were  absent.  The  Scotch  talk  much  of  their  talents 
and  their  integrity ;  why  does  not  the  nation  raise  its  voice  against 
such  a  system,  and  shew  its  spirit  in  something  more  like  freedom  and 
manliness  than  radical  harangues,  and  baubees  subscribed  for  the  mob 
of  Paris  ?  They  have  their  victory  to  be  struggled  for  nearer  home,  if 
they  will  struggle  for  it.  When  shall  we  see  the  name  of  Dundas, 
"  name  beloved  of  jobbers,"  exiled  from  all  influence  in  Scotland  ? 


The  theatres  are  in  full  promise  ;  and  tragedies,  comedies,  and  operas, 
are  declared  to  be  fluttering  at  their  gates  for  existence,  like  the  infant 
ghosts  in  Virgil.  Kenny  is  at  his  old  work  of  translation,  and  gives  us 
Victor  Hugo's  tragedy  of  Hernani,  which  flourished  for  a  while  last 
year  on  the  Parisian  stage.  We  should  greatly  prefer  a  farce  from 
either  France  or  Kenny.  No  French  tragedy  ever  succeeded  in  this 
country,  nor  ever  deserved  to  succeed  in  its  own.  The  best  of  tfyem  are 
dull,  dry,  unvaried,  and  unnatural,  all  declamation-,  all  description,  all 
heroes  and  heroines,  no  men,  no  women,  all  stilts  and  stiffness,  no  action, 
no  nature.  Hernani  will  do  very  well,  however,  for  the  living  race  of 
tragedians. 

Macready  is  bringing  out  Lord  Byron's  Werner,  which  will  not  suc- 
ceed. It  may  toil  through  a  night  or  two  ;  but  the  original  dulness  of 
the  plot  and  the  writing,  will  plunge  it  ten  thousand  fathoms  deep, 
where  all  the  tragedies  of  the  noble  author  went  before  or  after  it. 


J830.]  Affairs  in  General  691 

Byron's  poetry  was  not  dramatic.,  but  melo-dramatic.  He  could  do  nothing 
without  harems,  turbans,  Turks,  and  three-tailed  pashas.  In  tragedy 
he  failed  altogether  ;  and  though  we  shall  see  Macready  looking  as  fierce 
as  triple  whiskers  and  a  bandit  costume  of  the  most  approved  ferocity 
can  make  him,  a  terror  to  the  stage,  and  obnoxious  to  the  scaffold  at 
every  glance ;  yet  he  will  have  his  trouble  for  the  pleasure  of  over- 
throwing Werner  once  more. 

But  the  theatres  wisely  do  not  limit  themselves  to  the  trifling  matters 
of  plays.  They  are  never  happy  unless  when  to  their  scenic  exhibitions 
they  can  add  an  appearance  in  the  courts  of  law.  The  majors  and 
minors  are  now  preparing  for  desperate  bills  of  costs,  which  they  will 
have  the  pleasure  of  being  compelled  to  pay,  though  they  should  come 
to  no  further  conclusions.  The  preliminary  operations  of  the  campaign 
have  commenced,  in  the  challenge  of  a  minor  manager  to  a  major  mana- 
ger, and  in  the  threat  to  throw  a  fellow  out  of  the  window,  or  give  him 
his  alternative  of  being  roasted  on  the  green-room  fire,  where  he  had 
been  detected  with  a  pen  and  ink,  taking  notes  of  something  or  other  for 
the  benefit  of  the  forthcoming  litigation. 

The  Duke  of  Montrose,  late  Lord  Chamberlain,  in  his  capacity  of 
mediator  between  the  managers  and  proprietors  of  the  principal  London 
theatres,  arranged  that  the  Haymarket  should  remain  open  four  months 
in  the  summer,  and  that  during  three  of  those  months  Drury-lane  and 
Covent-garden  Theatres  should  be  entirely  closed. 

But  the  poor  duke  had  no  more  chance  of  reconciling  even  the  winter 
and  summer  theatres,  than  he  had  of  reconciling  the  sheep  to  the  butcher, 
or  the  client  to  the  lawyer.  The  summer  theatres  complain  that  they 
are  undone  by  the  restriction,  and  demand  why  they  must  be  condemned 
to  idleness  during  eight  months  out  of  the  twelve,  while  the  winter 
theatres  have  leave  to  expatiate  over  nine.  The  reason  is  not  easily  to 
be  found  out.  But  a  new  tribe  of  antagonists  have  started  up,  the 
suburb  theatres,  the  Coburg  and  the  Surrey,  with  the  East  London  and 
the  West  London,  and  probably  others,  which  have  escaped  our  dis- 
covery. Those  assailants  divide  the  prey  with  the  majors,  nay,  some- 
times pluck  the  prize  out  of  their  hands.  But  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 
is  again  Lord  Chamberlain ;  terrible  tidings  for  George  Colman,  Jun. 
His  scrupulosity  of  conscience  will  be  tortured  as  badly  as  before  by 
the  unfeeling  duke.  He  will  see  the  erasures  of  his  pious  pen  restored, 
and  the  fatal  time  come  back  when  a  lover  in  a  comedy  may  call  his 
mistress  an  angel  with  guilty  impunity.  Still,  we  are  glad  that  the 
duke  has  come  back  ;  he  is  a  gentleman,  though  a  whig  ;  has  some  fond- 
ness for  literature,  and  a  certain  knowledge  of  the  drama.  The  little  old 
Duke  of  Montrose  was  a  gentleman,  too,  but  he  knew  as  much  of  the 
drama,  as  of  the  Copernican  System ;  and  was  much  more  eminent  for 
the  punctual  receipt  of  his  salary  than  for  his  patronage  of  the  stage. 
We  hope  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  will  shew  us  the  difference  between 
an  English  nobleman  and  a  little  pensioner ;  that  he  will  disdain  to 
accept  his  salary,  which  is  for  a  sinecure,  and  of  which  he  ought  to 
scorn  to  touch  a  shilling ;  and  that  he  will  expend  it  on  patronizing  the  k 
stage,  which  is  to  be  patronized  only  by  encouraging  the  dramatic^ 
authorship  of  England.  When  Halifax  was  minister,  the  stage  was 
pretty  much  in  its  present  condition,  all  Frencl^fied,  all  overrun  with 
contemptible  translations  from  our  neighbours.  He,  at  once,  offered 
five  hundred  pounds  for  the  best  comedy,  a  sum  more  than  equivalent 

4  S  2 


692  Notes  of  the  Month  on  QDEC. 

to  a  thousand  now.  Let  the  Lord  Chamberlain  offer  the  same  sum  from 
his  salary  for  the  best  comedy,  the  best  tragedy,  and  the  best  opera  ; 
the  judgment  to  be  formed  not  in  the  closet,,  but  from  the  natural  trial 
of  the  stage.  Let  the  prize  be  given  to  the  best  acting  plays,  in  the 
three  styles ;  and  we  shall  soon  see  a  new  vigour  given  to  the  English 
stage.  This  would  be  a  noble  expenditure  of  his  salary,  and  would 
render  his  name  more  long-lived  than  his  title-deeds.  Let  him  try. 

We  rejoice  that  the  time 'is  come,  to  mark  with  indelible  contempt 
the  grasping  and  wretched  meanness  of  public  men.  Let  the  fol- 
lowing instance  speak  for  itself: — 

Lord  Bathurst,  on  Monday  morning  the  15th,  waited  upon  the 
King,  and  informed  his  Majesty  of  the  death  of  Mr*  Buller,  Chief 
.Clerk  to  the  Privy  Council,  and  at  the  same  time  solicited  his  Ma- 
jesty, in  whom  the  appointment  now  rests,  to  bestow  it  on  his  son. 
The  King  at  the  time  gave  no  answer  to  the  application ;  but  his 
Majesty  has  since  written  to  his  lordship,  intimating,  that  probably 
the  new  Lord  President  of  the  Council  may  be  inimical  to  the  ap- 
pointment, but  if  he  should  not,  his  lordship's  son  will  be  appointed 
to  the  office  by  the  King. 

Now,  let  us  see  the  state  of  the  case.  What  are  Lord  Bathurst's 
claims  on  the  country  ?  He  is  a  man  altogether  without  talents ;  a 
most  feeble,  awkward,  and  puzzled  speaker  ;  and,  in  every  sense  of  the 
word,  a  most  trifling  personage.  Yet  this  man  has  contrived  to  hitch 
himself  on  office  for  many  years,  with  sinecures  and  appointments, 
amounting  to  upwards  of  twelve  thousand  pounds  a  year  !  and  notwith- 
standing this  enormous  payment  from  the  public  purse  for  abilities 
so  utterly  obscure,  his  constant  effort  has  been  to  fix  his  sons  on  the 
public,  an  instance  of  which  occurred  a  short  time  ago,  and  was 
defeated  by  the  general  voice  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

Buller,  the  Clerk  of  the  Council,  dies  on  Sunday,  and  instantly  runs 
up  my  Lord  Bathurst  to  ask  this  place  from  the  King  for  his  son.  We 
set  aside  the  spirit  in  which  this  man,  quite  conscious  that  his  masters 
were  on  the  point  of  being  turned  out,  acted  in  attempting  to  secure 
this  place.  Of  course,  his  habits  of  life  made  him  ready  to  grasp 
at  every  thing.  But  we  ask,  did  he  acquaint  the  King  with  the 
real  state  of  the  case  ?  did  he  tell  him  that  the  ministry  were  on  the 
point  of  resigning,  and  that,  if  defeated  on  the  Civil  List  that  night,  they 
must  resign  before  twenty-four  hours  were  over  ?  If  he  did  not,  we 
may  leave  it  even  to  himself  to  fix  the  name  which  such  conduct 
deserves.  However,  he  may  congratulate  himself  that  he  lost  no  time, 
that  he  was  consistent  to  the  last ;  and  that  having  begun  life  as  a  sine- 
curist,  and  dragged  it  on  as  an  established  hanger-on  upon  office,  he 
closed  it  by  an  effort  to  pension  his  family  upon  the  public.  But  the 
public  are  awake  at  last,  and  we  shall  suffer  no  man  in  future  to  encum- 
ber us  with  his  noble  sons,  cousins,  sons-in-law,  or  mothers-in-law. 
The  sinecure  system  must  be  at  an  end,  and  the  imbecility  and  avarice 
of  noble  mendicants,  be  they  who  they  may,  must  be  no  longer  fed 
upon  the  hard-earned,  and  heavily-burdened  property  of  the  honest 
people^ 

The  Court  of  Aldermen  has  never  been  held  to  be  an  assembly  of  sages, 
yet  they  shine  in  comparison  with  the  blundering  of  the  late  ministry. 


1830.]  Affairs  w  General 

And  we  really  think  that  the  Duke  of  Wellington  could  not  do  better 
than  take  Sir  Claudius  Stephen  Locum-lenens  for  his  coadjutor  in  his 
next  attempt  on  the  constitution.  Now  that  Sir  Robert  Blifil  Peel  is 
separated  from  his  grace — for  Blifil  follows  the  moral  of  his  name  too  well 
to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  any  body  who  can  110  longer  help  him  to 
the  loaves  and  fishes — we  can  think  of  no  one  under  the  canopy  of  London 
smoke  half  so  fitted  for  his  grace's  councils  as  Sir  Claudius  Stephen. 
The  baronet's  propensities  too  are  all  military  ;  and  if  it  had  pleased  the 
king's  stable  keeper  to  set  him  on  the  white  charger,  that  object  of  his 
warlike  ambition,  Temple  Bar  would  have  never  seen  his  equal.  The 
baronet  too  can  make  a  blundering  speech  as  blunderingly  as  any  field 
marshal  on  record  ;  and  in  a  red  coat  at  the  head  of  that  victorious,  and 
ever  distinguished  regiment  the  first  London  militia,  bears  a  striking 
resemblance  to  Alexander  the  Great. 

We  understand  that  his  distinguished  services  on  the  late  occasion,  in 
saving  the  king  and  the  royal  family  from  being  eaten  alive  between  Tem- 
ple Bar  and  the  Mansion  House,  and  the  grand  duke  himself  from  being 
roasted  whole  at  Charing  Cross,  have  attracted  due  notice  in  the  highest 
quarter,  and  that  blushing  honours  in  abundance  are  in  reserve  for  him. 
One  of  our  contemporaries  says  that,  "  Sir  Claudius  Stephen  is  immedi- 
ately to  be  raised  to  the  peerage  by  the  title  of  Baron  Gog,  of  Guildhall, 
in  the  county  of  Middlesex,  with  an  addition  to  his  armorial  coat,  viz. — a 
goose,  proper,  or,  on  a  carit-or ;  supporters,  two  asses  erect  ducally  gorg- 
ed. Sir  Claudius  is  now  sitting  for  his  portrait  to  that  distinguished 
artist,  Mr.  George  Cruickshank,  which  is  to  form  the  first  of  a  series  in- 
tended by  his  majesty  to  adorn  the  walls  of  one  of  the  private  apartments 
in  Windsor  Castle." 

We  have  no  doubt  that  the  baronet  would  make  a  very  captivating 
addition  to  the  collection  of  any  man  or  monarch  curious  in  his  specimens 
of  human  absurdity.  But  the  baronetage  is  quite  enough  for  the  poor 
devil's  demerits  at  present,  and  the  public  are  not  just  now  much  in  the 
mind  to  see  any  more  of  those  pleasant  promotions  of  asses. 


We  sincerely  hope  that  the  king  will  take  the  state  of  the  Royal 
Society  into  his  immediate  consideration;  not  for  the  foolish  purpose  of 
giving  money  or  medals  to  those  people ;  but  for  the  purpose  of  castigat- 
ing their  foolery,  ignorance,  arrogance  and  presumption.  This  wise 
body  are,  in  the  first  place,  in  a  continual  squabble.  They  are  all  such 
enormous  philosophers  that  they  cannot  live  in  quiet  a  moment,  but 
every  week  produces  the  explosion  of  some  petty  jealousy,  or  local  dis- 
content, that  sets  them  canvassing,  speechmaking,  and  pamphleteering, 
to  the  endless  annoyance  of  the  wiser  community. 

One  fact  is  clear,  and  it  is  the  only  point  worth  considering,  that  at 
this  moment  there  is  no  man  eminent  for  science  of  any  kind,  within  the 
walls  of  the  Royal  Society.  This  the  F.  R.  S.s  know  perfectly,  and  two 
or  three  of  them  have  lately  written  some  dull  pamphlets  at  once  to  pro- 
claim the  fact,  and  decipher  the  cause. 

Sir  James  South,  in  a  pamphlet  entitled  "  Charges  against  the  Presi- 
dent and  Council  of  the  Royal  Society,"  says  one  of  the  reasons  why  he 
complains  against  them  is  "  for  having  intended  to  give  the  Copley  medal 
last  year,  for  a  paper  presented  to  the  society,  subsequent  to  the  period 
when,  by  established  custom,  such  competition  was  precluded ;  and, 
moreover,  that  such  intention  was  expressed  before  the  paper  had  been 


694  Notes  of  tie  Month  on  [DEC. 

read  to  the  society  ;  circumstances  which  becoming  known  to  the  author 
of  the  paper  alluded  to,  caused  him  to  hint  to  some  members  of  the 
council  that  their  medals  would  not  be  acceptable,  thus  placing  the 
society  in  the  disgraceful  predicament  of  having  its  Copley  medal  refused 
by  the  individual  for  whom  it  had  been  unwarrantably  designed." 

So  much  for  this  learned  Philomath's  opinion  of  the  case.  The 
decline  and  fall  of  science  in  this  country,  according  to  this  sagacious 
fellow,  is  assignable  to  the  u  giving  of  a  medal,  after  the  time  estab- 
lished by  custom ;"  and  other  such  nonsense.  The  plain  truth  is,  their 
heads  are  running  on  medals,  and  the  giving  or  withholding  one  of 
those  baubles  is  enough  to  throw  the  whole  set  of  dabblers  in  diagrams 
into  a  brain  fever. 

Then  we  have  Mr.  Babbage,  scribbling  a  pamphlet  on  the  same  wise 
topic,  and  in  exactly  the  same  spirit — "  science  is  sinking  in  England, 
science  is  gone,"  says  this  crabbed  orator  ;  and  why  ?  Mr.  Dalton  the 
quaker  did  not  get  a  medal,  and  Mr.  Somebody  else  did.  A  medal  was 
given  to  the  inventor  of  a  new  method  of  proving  that  lines  which  are  not 
parallel  will  meet  at  the  world's  end,  while  a  medal  was  refused  to  the 
much  grander  discovery  that  lines  which  are  parallel  never  meet  at  all. 
Mr.  Babbage  is  just  as  much  a  medal-man  as  poor  Sir  James,  and  each 
deserves  the  bauble  about  as  much  as  a  sixpenny  almanac-maker,  and 
not  a  stiver  more. 

The  impudence  of  pretenders  in  all  sciences  is  notorious.  But  the 
half-learned  mathematician  always  exceeds  the  whole  class  of  coxcombry. 
A  man  of  the  rate  of  Mr.  Babbage  naturally  thinks  that  the  world  does 
notcontain  his  equal,  and  that  he  is  entitled  to  look  down  from  his  clouds 
on  all  the  orators,  poets,  divines  and  historians  of  the  world.  We  fully 
admit  that  mathematics  are  a  great  science,  of  the  highest  utility  in 
various  practical  departments  of  knowledge,  and  assistant  to  noble  spe- 
culations in  natural  knowledge.  But  the  only  claim  on  which  any  man 
can  call  himself  a  mathematician,  is  his  having  added  something  to  the 
science,  his  telling  what  none  knew  before,  his  giving  the  world  some 
remarkable  discovery  in  the  principles  of  knowledge. 

But  what  discovery  has  any  one  of  those  conceited  and  noisy  persons 
made  ?  Nothing.  If  they  write,  they  borrow  from  the  French  or 
Italian  mathematicians.  The  whole  scientific  production  of  those  men 
during  the  last  quarter  of  a  century  has  been  plunder  from  foreigners. 

To  come  to  particulars,  what  has  Mr.  Babbage  done  ?  he  has  attempted 
some  slight  addition  to  the  old  German  calculating  machine ;  which  has 
stopped  where  it  was  many  years  ago,  and  no  one  has  been  the  wiser  for 
the  carpentry  and  brass,  for  the  workmen  were  the  true  philoso- 
phers on  the  occasion ;  and  at  all  events  the  machine  has  never  been 
more  than  a  clumsy  toy.  Then  comes  Sir  James  South,  who  has  made  a 
catalogue  of  the  double  and  triple  stars,  a  mere  business  of  drudgery, 
which  any  man  might  have  gone  through  with  a  good  common  teles- 
cope, and  a  yard  of  flannel  round  his  throat  to  keep  him  from  the  night 
air.  Then  comes  Captain  Kater,  a  prodigious  man  of  science,  who 
knows  the  difference  between  a  Gregorian  and  Newtonian  telescope,  and 
has  made  some  trivial  mechanical  improvement  in  the  pendulum.  There 
rests  his  fame.  Then  comes  Captain  Sabine,  who  was  sent  out  on  a  mis- 
sion to  ascertain  the  swings  of  the  pendulum  in  the  South  Seas ;  no  man 
could  wind  up  a  chronometer  better,  tell  the  world  when  it  was  twelve 
o'clock,  or  know  the  difference  between  sunrise  'and  sunset,  the  mean 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  695 

time  of  dinner,  or  the  differential  of  tea  according  to  the  longitude,  with 
more  philosophical  accuracy.  The  captain  did  his  duty  gallantly,  filling 
his  table-books  with  figures  of  the  most  imposing  regularity.  We  should 
like  to  know  what  has  become  of  those  labours,  or  of  the  blundering 
instrument  with  which  he  made  his  erroneous  observations.  And  yet 
all  those  triflers  actually  consider  themselves  as  first-rate  personages, 
terribly  injured  by  being  still  unpensioned,  unribboned  and  unlorded. 
Is  there  one  of  them  who  deserves  the  slightest  notice  from  government, 
or  from  any  body  else?  "We  pause  for  a  reply/'  Then  we  have  an 
astronomer  royal.  We  should  like  to  know  how  many  blunders  there 
are  in  the  Nautical  Almanack  this  year  less  than  the  last ;  or  how  often 
the  professor  ventures  to  look  at  a  star  without  a  letter  from  Olbers  of 
Bremen,  assuring  him  in  the  first  instance  that  it  is  a  star,  and  not  a 
Congreve  rocket. 

We  ask,  is  there  one  man  among  all  those  pompous  persons  who  makes 
any  figure  among  the  continental  philosophers  ?  is  there  one  of  them 
within  a  hundred  degrees  of  Lagrange  or  Euler?  or  if  those  names  set  all 
their  competition  at  defiance,  is  there  one  who  is  fit  to  hold  up  the  skirts 
of  Arago  or  Biot  ?  And  yet  those  persons  are  all  for  knighthoods  and 
pensions.  They  are  fit  for  squabbling  at  the  Royal  Society,  and  that  "  is 
their  vacation,  Hal." 

The  papers  say,  that  Sir  Walter  Scott  has  refused  the  pension  offered 
to  him  by  government  to  make  up  the  difference  between  his  full  salary, 
as  Clerk  of  Session,  and  his  retired  pension.  We  are  glad  to  hear  of  this 
refusal,  and  hope  that  the  example  will  be  followed.  A  statement  of  Sir 
Walter's  affairs  has  lately  been  given,  by  which  it  appears  that  Ballan- 
tyne  and  Co.,  with  whom  he  was  concerned,  and  who  fell  with  the  fall 
of  Constable's  house  some  years  ago,  have  been  enabled,  through  Sir 
Walter's  means,  to  pay  £54,000,  of  which  the  Ballantynes  furnished  but 
£7,000.  A  post  obit  bond  of  £22,000  is  further  in  the  hands  of  the 
creditors,  on  which  Sir  Walter  has  paid  the  policy  of  insurance ;  and  the 
new  edition  of  his  novels,  with  his  notes,  &c.,  has  already  produced 
£30,000.  It  is  further  said,  that  the  creditors  are  to  have  a  proposal 
made  to  Sir  Walter,  to  take  back  his  library,  manuscripts,  and  plate, 
which  of  course  had  become  their  property.  All  this  is  as  it  ought  to 
be,  and  we  expect  that  as  Sir  Walter  has  dealt  honestly,  his  creditors 
will  deal  generously. 

We  hope  that  the  new  ministers  will  learn  wisdom  from  their  own 
experience,  and  offend  the  public  feelings  by  none  of  the  follies  of  their 
predecessors.  The  yeomanry  are  called  out  again  by  the  necessity  of 
the  case  ;  and  this  too,  by  the  individual  who,  more  than  any  other  man 
in  the  empire,  wished  to  supersede  all  other  force  by  the  standing  army. 
The  Bucks  yeomanry  under  the  Marquis  of  Chandos,  have  been  called  out, 
and  have  gone  on  duty  into  Hampshire.  All  the  other  yeomanry  ought  to 
be  called  out  in  the  same  manner.  Riots  and  burnings  may  go  on  for 
ever  in  the  face  of  a  standing  army,  with  its  embroidered  staff,  pompous 
reviewing  generals,  and  all  the  solemn  incumbrances  of  the  service  ;  but 
the  only  force  equal  to  put  down  domestic  disturbance  of  the  present 
kind  is  the  yeomanry.  It  was  one  of  the  errors  of  the  amphibious 
administration,  in  which  the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne  was  Home  Secre- 
tary, to  extinguish  the  yeomanry. 


Notes  of  the  Month  on  [DEC. 

We  trust  that  they  will  not  be  fools  enough  to  do  this  again.  The 
nation  is  sick  of  a  standing  army,  its  enormous  expense,  its  total  useless- 
ness  in  a  sea-girt  country  like  ours,  and  its  real  danger  to  the  constitu- 
tion. The  liberties  of  every  country  of  Europe  fell  under  a  standing 
army.  They  all  had  some  rough  share  of  liberty,  derived  from  their 
Gothic  ancestors.  But  when  the  monarchs  raised  standing  armies,  the 
popular  rights  were  rapidly  crushed ;  and  from  that  hour  the  continental 
kingdoms  differed  only  in  variety  of  slavery.  In  England  a  standing 
army  is  a  mere  superfluity,  or  worse.  It  is  like  a  powder-magazine,  use- 
less for  all  purposes  of  peace,  and  giving  signs  of  its  power  only  by  its 
explosion.  As  to  Ireland  and  its  tumults,  a  well-organized  yeomanry 
would  do  more  to  keep  them  down  than  a  regular  army  of  a  hundred 
thousand  men.  Let  us  then  have  the  yeomanry  raised  again,  and  the 
country  gentlemen  of  England  employed,  as  they  ought  to  be,  in  pro- 
tecting their  own  property,  and  in  learning  to  defend  their  country  and 
their  constitution.  As  we  have  got  rid  of  the  reign  of  corporals,  have 
sent  the  horseguards-faction  to  the  right  about,  and  banished  the  aiguil- 
let  dynasty  far  from  Downing-street,  (to  which  may  no  misfortune  of 
England  ever  bring  them  back,)  we  say,  let  us  send  their  standing  army 
after  them.  The  disbanded  officers  may  be  employed  in  the  militia  and 
yeomanry  ;  and  so  they  should  be  employed,  both  to  give  them  the  sub- 
sistence to  which  they  are  entitled,  and  to  make  those  descriptions  of 
force  of  the  most  efficient  order.  But,  in  all  cases,  away  with  the  stand- 
ing army ;  and  let  England  know  no  force  but  that  of  its  constitutional 
defenders. 

The  barn-burners  are  coming  closer  round  the  metropolis.  They 
have  made  the  circuit  already  from  Essex,  Kent,  and  Sussex  to  Berk- 
shire. Every  night  has  its  conflagration  :  yet  no  detection  has  followed. 
The  stories  of  the  incendiaries  seem  to  have  all  come  from  the  Minerva 
press.  We  have  a  man  in  a  mysterious  costume  of  French  boots,  speak- 
ing German,  and  moving  about  in  a  green  coat ;  another  who  resembles 
a  female,  and  a  female  who  resembles  a  man.  On  one  fellow  is  found  a 
receipt  for  making  squibs,  and  another  carries  an  air-gun  doubled  up  in 
his  pantaloons  :  but  nothing  comes  of  the  discovery.  The  fires  go  on. 

We  doubt,  a  good  deal,  the  activity  of  the  farmers  in  protecting  their 
property  in  all  instances.  Where  a  heavy  insurance  has  been  made, 
which  is  frequently  the  case,  it  is  just  as  agreeable  to  the  farmer  to 
receive  its  price  from  the  insurance-office,  as  from  the  market.  The 
transaction  is  of  a  very  simple  kind,  and  saves  much  trouble  ;  while  it 
also  saves  the  farmer  from  any  severe  retaliation  by  the  ruffians  who 
have  committed  the  outrage.  It  is  true,  that  this  conduct  is  altogether 
dishonest ;  for  the  insurance-offices  have,  of  course,  taken  it  for  granted 
that  every  possible  precaution  shall  be  used,  and  that  they  shall  not  be 
betrayed,  at  least,  by  the  farmers  :  but  the  insurance  people  must  bestir 
themselves,  or  they  may  rely  upon  their  suffering  in  a  very  formidable 
degree.  A  letter  from  Windsor — so  near  have  the  burnings  come  •-  thus 
describes  the  scene,  which  his  Majesty  might  have  witnessed,  if  he  had 
been  in  his  castle  : — 

"  WINDSOR,  SUNDAY. — On  Friday  night  we  were  alarmed  by  a  large 
fire  in  the  direction  of  Maidenhead.  We  could  distinctly  see  it  from  the 
back  of  the  house.  Two  post-chaises  were  out,  and  we  went  to  see  the 
awful  sight — indeed  it  was  an  awful  one.  The  barns  were  burnt  down 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General  *689 

— seven  ricks  burning  in  a  line,  and  behind  them  another  row,  upon 
which  the  flakes  of  fire  continually  fell.  Men  with  forks  threw  off  the 
flakes,  whilst  others  played  upon  the  ricks  with  the  only  engine  they 
could  find  water  to  work.  The  contrast  between  the  proverbially  peace- 
able state  of  a  village  farm-yard  and  the  scene  we  witnessed  was  very 
striking.  Groups  of  farmers  standing  in  different  directions,  with  loaded 
guns,  to  assist  their  neighbour  in  protecting  his  property,  had  a  thought- 
ful gloom  upon  their  countenances — for  whose  turn  was  next  no  one 
knew.  The  whole  peasantry  of  the  neighbourhood  seemed  drawn  out, 
and  I  think  willing  to  aid,  as  far  as  they  could,  in  extinguishing  the  fire. 
Water  was  scarce,  for  there  were  no  "  plugs"  to  supply  it,  as  in  London  • 
and  the  burning  masses  of  hay  or  corn  defied  any  attempt  upon  them." 

But  by  much  the  best  evidence  given  for  the  last  twenty  years  of  there 
being  any  brains  among  the  Etonians,  is  given  in  a  threatening  letter  to 
that  crabbed  little  pedant  Keate,  the  head-master,  who  in  default  of  any 
other  claims  to  the  world's  notice,  and  who  certainly  as  a  scholar  is 
utterly  obscure,  and  as  a  writer  has  never  been  heard  of,  has  established 
a  reputation  for  the  use  of  the  birch. 

"  Reverend  Sir, — Unless  you  lay  aside  your  '  thrashing  machine,'  you 
will  hear  further  from  "  SWIN  G." 

"  Nov.  21." 

Our  wiseacres  at  this  side  of  the  water,  who  pretended  to  believe  that 
they  had  quieted  Ireland  for  ever  by  giving  up  the  Catholic  question, 
now  think  that  they  have  nothing  to  do  but  give  O'Connell  a  silk  gown, 
and  no  man  in  Ireland  will  breathe  a  whisper  about  the  Union.  If  they 
can  believe  themselves,  the  more  fools  they.  Their  attempts  to  get 
up  addresses  are  nonsense.  We  are  thus  told  that  no  fewer  than  thirty 
peers,  seven  baronets,  and  260  gentlemen  of  other  ranks  in  Ireland, 
have  subscribed  to  the  "  declaration "  against  all  attempts  to  agitate 
the  question  of  the  repeal  of  the  Union.  They  might  just  as  well  have 
been  addressed  by  so  many  shoeblacks;  indeed  much  better,  for  the  shoe- 
blacks would  probably  do  something  when  the  "  physical-force-days" 
were  come,  but  the  thirty  peers  and  so  forth  will  do  nothing  but  pack 
up  their  portmanteaus  and  be  off  for  Holyhead.  The  concession  of  the 
Catholic  question  has  decided  on  the  fate  of  Ireland.  It  declared  that 
the  force  of  the  mob  was  to  be  the  law  of  the  land.  The  Irish  papists 
know  that  if  Ireland  had  a  parliament,  it  would  now  be  wholly  papist  ; 
and  they  will  have  it.  The  Irish  priests,  whose  king  is  the  Pope,  whose 
country  is  Rome,  and  whose  oath,  ambition,  and  hope  here  and  here- 
after, are  the  aggrandizement  of  the  popish  church,  know  that  a  popish 
parliament  would  overthrow  Protestantism  in  Ireland,  and  they  will 
move  heaven  and  earth  to  accomplish  that  point.  The  Irish  Protestants, 
irritated  by  the  conduct  of  the  late  miserable  administration,  and  thrown 
on  their  own  resources,  must  resist  feebly,  and  will  at  length  find  emi- 
gration to  America  or  England,  a  much  pleasanter  way  of  disposing  of 
themselves  and  their  property  than  having  their  throats  cut,  and  their 
houses  burned  over  their  heads.  Every  man  will  be  anxious  to  with- 
draw to  some  quieter  spot  of  the  earth ;  and  thousands  are,  at  this 
moment,  withdrawing  to  the  Canadas  and  the  United  States.  Then  will 
come  the  true  struggle ;  and  as  for  the  thirty  peers,  &c.,  &c.,  they  will 
have  no  more  power  to  turn  the  popular  opinion  than  such  a  statesman 
as  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Leinster  ! 

M.M.  New  Series.— VOL.  X.  No.  60.  4  *S 


*()90  Notes  of  the  Month  on  [DEC, 

If  ever  Right  Reverend  gentleman  has  been  showered  with  contempt 
in  all  quarters,  it  is  the  Right  Reverend  Henry  Philpotts,  the  new  Bishop 
of  Exeter,  by  the  grace  of  his  Highness  of  Wellington,  Ex-Minister. 
Scorn  seems  to  be  poured  on  this  wretched  man  on  all  sides.  Every 
man's  hand  seems  to  be  against  him.  Sneers  and  scoffs  are  his  daily  bread. 
He  cannot  receive  a  letter  without  finding  himself  addressed  at  the  top 
of  it  with  some  of  those  happy  epithets  that  mankind  have  contrived 
for  drawing  characters  as  briefly  as  expressively.  He  cannot  take  up 
a  newspaper  without  finding  himself  thrown  into  the  most  bitter  ridi- 
cule. Much  good  may  it  do  him.  May  his  perusal  of  newspapers  be 
always  attended  with  the  same  balm  to  his  feelings.  One  of  the  papers 
observes : — "  It  seems  to  be  determined  by  the  inhabitants  of  Exeter  to 
shut  up  their  shops  on  the  entry  of  the  Bishop  into  that  City.  Some 
difficulty  has  occurred  as  to  a  report  of  the  manner  in  which  such  a 
compliment  is  to  be  received,  unless  indeed  there  should  be  found  one 
in  all  the  city  who  shall  possess  the  curiosity  of  Peeping  Tom  of  Coventry, 
of  olden  time.  Perhaps,  however,  the  Bishop  will  previously  resign 
his  enormous  church  preferment,  in  which  case  the  inhabitants  might 
be  induced  even  to  illuminate  on  his  Lordship's  entry.  Poor  Exeter 
will  have  had  three  Bishops  within  nine  months  !" 

The  Belgian  revolution  promises  to  settle  for  awhile.  We  promise 
the  friends  of  tumults  that  it  will  be  but  for  awhile ;  and  we  should 
probably  not  go  too  far  in  promising  them  the  erection  of  Belgium  into 
an  affiliated  republic  of  France,  when  France  shall  have  eased  the 
Orleans'  brow  of  the  pageantry  of  a  crown. 

But  for  the  present  the  High  Allies  have  taken  the  Revolution  under 
their  care,  and  De  Potter  has  been  prevailed  on  to  withdraw  from  its 
councils.  This  man  seems  to  have  been  mistaken  for  a  mere  newspaper 
proprietor.  He  is  now  mentioned  by  the  Spectator  as  a  Belgian  noble- 
man ; — he  is  a  native  of  Bruges,  and  his  house  there  would  be  considered 
a  palace — it  is  certainly  equal  in  all  points  to  Devonshire  House.  His 
fortune,  for  his  country,  is  large — ample — and,  for  a  single  man,  would 
anywhere  be  thought  sufficient.  By  habit  he  is  a  student :  his  learning 
is  considerable,  his  application  immense.  Whether  by  his  study  of  the 
history  of  the  Church,  or  by  having  fallen  upon  the  works  of  Bentham, 
which  are  well  known  in  Flanders,  he  has  become  a  thorough  theoretical 
Republican  :  hating  all  overweening  authority,  he  would  gladly  sacri- 
fice himself  and  his  fortunes — all  but  his  old  mother— to  right  the  cause, 
not  of  his  country,  but  his  theory.  He  hates  all  that  is  of  Nassau,  or 
Nassauish.  They  have  tampered  with  him,  they  have  coaxed  him ;  but 
he  has  treated  with  them  as  sovereign  to  sovereign,  and  they,  having 
the  power,  have  beat  him.  He  was  beaten  dead — when  the  French 
Revolution  broke  in  upon  his  chamber,  beaming  with  light — his  little 
wretched  chamber  at  the  Black  Swan  at  Vales,  where  the  peasants,  in 
secret,  came  to  honour  him.  Had  he  been  quiet  even  in  Paris,  it  is 
possible  the  Bruxellois  might  have  been  cajoled  or  reduced  to  order,  or 
by  whatever  name  it  be  called.  When  he  read  the  answer  to  the  depu- 
tation on  the  part  of  the  King  of  Holland,  he  cried  out,  "  Cheatery  !" 
He  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Belgian  people,  which  was  conveyed  through 
the  medium  of  the  Journal  des  Tribunaux,  exposing  the  designs  of  the 
King,  accusing  him  ofjinesserie,  and,  in  short,  predicting  precisely  that 
which  has  happened — double-faced  cruelty  on  the  part  of  the  Dutch 
Government. 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General.  *691 

If  men  are  ever  to  be  taught  by  the  example  of  others,  the  late 
career  of  the  unfortunate  Prince  Polignac  ought  to  give  a  lesson  to 
ambition.  A  year  ago  he  was  in  England  leading  a  quiet  and  pleasant 
life,  as  Ambassador,  in  which  he  might  have  remained  undisturbed  till 
this  hour.  But  he  must  be  Prime  Minister  of  France,  and  now  he  is  the 
most  miserable  man  in  France,  and  in  peril  of  his  life  by  public  execu- 
tion. Not  but  that  his  execution,  if  it  shall  occur,  will  be  an  act  of 
useless  bloodshed,  a  piece  of  national  cruelty,  which  without  any  con- 
ceivable good,  will  add  to  the  national  guilt,  and  alienate  the  entire  good 
will  with  which  rational  men  throughout  Europe  have  hitherto  looked 
on  the  late  French  revolution.  The  blood  of  Polignac  and  his  fellow 
ministers,  instead  of  cementing  French  liberty,  will  dissolve  it,  turn  the 
revolution  into  a  resemblance  of  the  old  days  of  terror ;  and  bring  down 
the  still  higher  vengeance  that  is  always  visited  on  the  wanton  shedding 
of  blood  by  a  people.  In  the  death  of  Polignac  the  French  can  con- 
template no  future  good,  no  present  use,  nothing  but  revenge.  The 
thirst  of  blood,  is  a  principle  which  in  every  instance  is  forbidden 
equally  to  nations  and  individuals. 

The  course  which  will  be  adopted  by  the  counsel  for  Polignac  and 
his  colleagues,  upon  their  trial,  before  the  Chamber  of  Peers,  will  be  to 
shew  that  the  crime  with  which  they  are  charged  is  not  high  treason. 
It  is  said  that,  notwithstanding  the  express  terras  of  the  Charter,  there 
are  lawyers  in  France,  and  even  in  this  country,  who  have  shewn  a 
leaning  to  give  an  opinion  something  to  that  effect.  Witnesses  will  be 
examined  from  all  parts  of  France  for  the  prosecution.  They  will  be, 
it  is  said,  between  200  and  300. 

If  King  Philip  shall  suffer  this  execution  to  take  place,  he  is  a  King 
of  Gotham,  he  is  a  King  of  Moonshine,  and  the  sooner  he  sells  his 
estates  and  transfers  himself  and  his  family  to  New  South  Wales  the 
wiser  he  will  be.  Europe  expects  him  to  shew  his  firmness  in  this 
point,  and  if  he  hesitates  for  a  moment  between  resigning  his  crown, 
and  giving  his  sanction  to  a  judicial  murder,  he  is  undone ;  undone  in 
reputation  first,  and  then  undone  even  in  the  object  for  which  he  shall 
have  sacrificed  that  reputation  :  his  diadem  will  not  be  a  twelvemonth  on 
his  brow. 

The  last  news  from  the  Spanish  frontier  is  like  all  that  came  before, 
totally  disastrous.  One  of  the  letters  mentions,  of  the  date  of  Nov.  13th, 
that  Vigo,  who  was  supposed  to  be  at  Lharens  Sallens,  had  not,  on  the 
contrary,  been  able  to  advance  a  step  beyond  the  frontiers,  and  that 
Gurrea,  who  had  penetrated  as  far  as  Barbastro,  had  been  beaten  and 
driven  back  on  the  French  territory,  leaving  nineteen  of  his  followers 
in  the  hands  of  the  Royalists.  Those  unfortunate  men  were  shot  on  the 
spot.  All  the  villages  were  in  motion  at  the  sound  of  the  tocsin,  asking 
for  arms  to  repel  further  invasions.  Thus  the  cause  of  the  refugees  is 
irretrievably  lost  at  all  points  of  attack. 

The  French  authorities  have  been  called  on  by  the  Spanish  Govern- 
ment to  keep  the  insurgents  within  their  frontier,  which  the  French 
are  doing  in  mere  mercy  to  the  poor  devils  of  refugees,  who,  if  they 
attempted  any  more  expeditions  like  the  last,  must  be  undone.  The 
obvious  fact  is,  they  have  no  force  to  effect  any  thing.  Let  them  wait 
till  the  French  Republic  takes  them  under  its  wing. 


What  a  capital  collection  of  pleasantries  might  be  made  out  of  those 

4  *S  2 


Notes  of  the  Mont k  on  [DEC. 

on  dits,  which  the  multitude  of  newspaper  readers  look  upon  as  the  most 
serious  pieces  of  intelligence  ;  for  instance — 

"  The  report  in  circulation  that  his  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of 
Sussex  had  declined  becoming  a  candidate  for  the  Presidential  Chair  of 
the  Royal  Society  (in  the  room  of  Mr.  Gilbert)  is  not  true  ;  the  Royal 
Duke  not  only  continues  to  aspire  to  the  honour,  and  to  offer  himself  as 
a  candidate,,  but  he  is  the  only  Fellow  of  the  Society  who  has,  up  to  the 
present  moment,  declared  such  to  be  his  intention." 

Here  the  jest  is,  that  his  Royal  Highness  of  Sussex  is  a  jovial  fat 
fellow  who  knows  more  about  a  bottle  of  claret  than  all  the  science 
under  the  sun,  and  who  must  sit  mum-chance  in  the  Royal  Society  if  ever 
they  shall  put  him  in  their  chair. 

Another  of  the  facetiae  is  the  following  : — 

"  During  the  discussion  in  the  House  of  Peers  last  week,  several 
Peeresses  were  present.  On  Monday  evening  her  Grace  the  Dowager 
Duchess  of  Richmond  was  in  the  House,  to  hear  the  speech  of  the  Lord 
Chancellor,  on  opening  the  regency  question  ;  on  the  succeeding  night 
Lady  Holland  sat  in  the  same  place,  to  hear  the  Duke  of  Wellington's 
announcement  of  his  resignation." 

Here  the  point  is  rather  an  impudent  one,  but  an  excellent  joke 
nevertheless.  Lady  Holland  is  saucily  represented  as  a  fussing,  forward 
woman,  pushing  herself  into  prominence  on  all  occasions,  when  mere 
common  delicacy  would  have  made  her  avoid  the  scene.  Indeed  the 
idea  of  women  thrusting  themselves  into  the  House  of  Lords,  to  listen 
to  debates  of  which  they  of  course  cannot  comprehend  a  syllable,  is  so 
masculine,  that  we  think  nothing  more  should  be  necessary,  to  convict 
them  of  beards.  Mrs.  Arbuthnot,  we  acknowledge,  used  to  exhibit  on 
those  occasions,  but  then  it  was  to  prompt  the  faltering  periods  of  his 
Grace  of  Wellington. 

Another : — 

"  Northumberland  house  is  in  a  state  of  preparation  to  receive  the 
noble  Duke,  who  is,  we  understand,  already  on  his  return  from  his 
government  of  Ireland." 

This  is  almost  cruel.  The  fact  is,  that  the  preparation  of  this  noble 
mansion  for  the  reception  of  its  noble  proprietor,  notoriously  consists  in 
putting  out  all  the  fires,  discharging  the  cook,  and  nailing  up  the  hall 
door.  The  taste  is  hereditary.  When  the  noble  Duke's  father  was 
quartered  in  Ireland  with  his  regiment  many  years  ago,  he  was  com- 
pelled to  give  them  a  dinner  at  a  tavern.  Some  of  them  accidentally 
discovered  that  their  gallant  colonel  had  been  dexterous  enough  to  con- 
tract with  the  landlord  for  their  dinner  at  five  shillings  a  head  !  The 
officers  not  liking  this  lenten  entertainment,  privately  ordered  the  land- 
lord to  enlarge  his  bill  of  fare  at  the  rate  of  a  couple  of  guineas  a 
head.  The  dinner  was  superb ;  and  the  noble  colonel  was  delighted 
with  his  bargain.  The  appearance  of  the  bill  however  cleared  his  con- 
ceptions on  the  subject.  None  spoke,  all  laughed,  the  money  was 
wrung  out  in  agony,  and  the  officers  were  never  asked  again. 

Another : — 

"  The  King  of  Holland  is  said  to  be  the  richest  personage  in  Europe. 
Whilst  he  was  King  of  the  Netherlands  his  income  was  enormous,  and 
his  domestic  expenses  ever  since  the  general  peace  have  been  extremely 
circumscribed." 

Here  the  jest  is,  that  he  is  the  most  notorious  prodigal.  Under  the 
affectation  of  saving  a  few  pounds  a  year,  to  please  Dutch  parsimony, 


1830.]  Affairs  in  General.  *693 

he  has  lately  been  throwing  away  millions  by  the  month ;  and  to  gratify 
the  smokers  of  the  Hague  has  gambled  away  Belgium. 

Another,  which  involves  a  libel  on  an  ambassador,  no  less  a  personage 
than  Talleyrand. 

"  A  newspaper  correspondent,  giving  an  account  of  the  Prince's 
landing  at  Dover,  expressed  his  surprise  at  seeing  in  Talleyrand,  whom 
he  had  expected  to  look  nothing  but  the  cunning  diplomatist,  f  the 
countenance  of  an  open,  candid,  and  honest  character/  This  was  shewn 
to  Talleyrand,  who  coolly  remarked,  '  It  must  have  been,  I  suppose, 
in  consequence  of  the  dreadful  sea-sickness  I  experienced  in  coming 
over !'  " 

The  fact  is,  the  observation  was  manufactured  in  a  committee  of 
diners  out,  with  little  Luttrell  in  the  chair.  Talleyrand  conceives  the 
affair  an  unpardonable  attack  on  his  reputation,  and  declares,  that  after 
such  an  insult  his  embassy  is  at  an  end.  We  understand  that  he  has 
demanded  his  passports. 

Another : — 

"  The  King  of  Naples,  who  died  at  Naples  on  the  8th  inst.,  was  born 
on  the  19th  of  August,  1777>  and  was  consequently  in  his  54th  year. 
The  eldest  of  his  thirteen  children,  who  succeeds  him,  was  born  on  the 
12th  of  January,  1810— his  title  is  Ferdinand  II.  The  late  King  was 
brother  to  the  Queen  of  the  French." 

"  The  Marquis  and  Marchioness  of  Conyngham,  and  Lady  Maria 
Conyngham,  left  Slane  Castle  on  Wednesday  morning,  for  Italy." 

Nothing  can  be  more  malicious  than  the  juxta-position  of  those  two 
paragraphs,  which  might  by  simple  people  be  supposed  to  have  no  con- 
nection. They  however  proceed  from  the  Foreign  Office,  and  are  meant 
to  insinuate  that  the  heads  of  the  noble  family  having  been  so  long  in  the 
habit  of  nursing  old  kings,  would  as  condescendingly  be  now  ready  to 
take  charge  of  a  young  one,  the  salary  being  handsome,  and  the  appoint- 
ments suitable  ! 

Another : — 

"  The  new  French  coinage  will  bear  the  effigy  of  Louis  Philip.  The 
profile  will  be  turned  to  the  right,  and  on  the  reverse  will  be  a  crown 
of  laurel,  with  the  words  '  5  francs,  1830.'  The  device  round  the  edge 
will  be  like  the  former  pieces,  '  Dieu  protege  la  France/  in  relief." 

The  point  here  is,  that  the  coinage  should  bear  the  effigy  of  a  King, 
who  is  merely  the  Mayor  of  Paris,  or  that  his  head  should  give  any 
currency  to  a  five  franc  piece,  when  if  he  stays  in  the  country  six 
months  more,  his  life  may  not  be  worth  half  the  money. 

Another : — 

"  At  seven  o'clock  on  Saturday  morning  two  troops  of  the  Life  Guards 
mustered  at  the  Barracks  at  Knightsbridge,  and  marched  on  route  to 
Dorking,  where  they  were  quartered  for  the  night.  Yesterday  they 
were  to  proceed  on  their  march  to  the  various  parts  of  Sussex,  where 
the  disturbances  are  at  the  greatest  height." 

Here  the  burlesque  is,  in  supposing  that  any  man  who  carried  his 
brains  higher  than  his  boots,  should  conceive  that  those  portly  fellows 
with  their  brass  helmets,  steel  cuirasses,  and  heavy  horses,  could  by 
possibility  be  sent  to  ferret  out  incendiaries  who  have  baffled  the  keenness 
of  the  Bow-street  people,  and  who  never  appear  by  daylight  between 
the  hours  of  breakfast  and  dinner,  the  only  hours  when  a  colonel  of  any 
conscience  could  expect  the  Life  Guards  to  be  visible. 

Another : — 

"  Austria  has   accredited  Consuls  to  Greece,  which  is  said  to  have 


*694  Notes  of  the  Month  on  Affairs  in  General.  £DEC. 

given  great  satisfaction  to  Russia,  and  drawn  a  military  cordon  in  front 
of  the  Russian  border,  which  is  said  not  to  be  so  agreeable  in  that  quarter. 
The  pretence  is  the  danger  of  infection  from  the  cholera  morbus" 

The  point  here  is  a  play  on  the  finesse  of  those  sages,  who  call  them- 
selves ministers,  and  perpetuate  blunders,  loans,  and  war,  through  the 
nations.  It  is  here  shewn  how  Prince  Metternich  can  at  once  give 
satisfaction  and  dissatisfaction  to  the  same  court,  and  how  Russia  can 
be  at  once  pleased  and  angry.  The  infection  is  of  course  a  pretence,  and 
a  happy  example  of  how  much  may  be  made  by  a  politician  of  a  cholera 
morbus.  Here  instead  of  slaying  a  population,  it  will  create  an  army. 

Another,  on  the  late  outcasts  : — 

"  The  rest  of  the  Administration  have  really  occupied  so  little 
of  public  attention,  that  their  names  are  hardly  known.  The  Under- 
lings who  served  under  the  Earl  of  Liverpool,  then  under  Mr.  Canning, 
next  under  Lord  Goderich,  and  last  under  the  Duke  of  Wellington — 
though  they  talk  of  acting  in  a  body — will  join  the  present,  or  the  next 
Administration,  or  both,  if  they  can.  These  convenient  bodies  must  be 
in  place,  if  possible,  and  if  they  only  take  subordinate  offices,  the  public 
care  nothing  about  the  matter." 

The  sting  here  is,  an  attempt  to  insinuate  that  there  are  attached  to 
administrations  in  this  country,  a  set  of  poor  devils  called  by  the  various 
names  of  Under  Secretaries  of  the  Treasury,  Under  Secretaries  of  State, 
&c.  &c.,  whose  only  idea  of  public  duty  is  that  of  scraping  together 
their  salary,  and  whose  best  notion  of  public  honour  is  to  cringe 
and  kiss  the  toe  of  any  man  who  will  give  them  any  thing.  We  disclaim 
the  cruelty  of  this  insidious  imputation  altogether. 

Among  the  multitude  of  childish  works  that  the  press  pours  out,  there 
appear  from  time  to  time  some  which  are  worth  preserving.  Among 
those  are  the  adventures  of  Giovanni  Finati  and  of  Van  Halen. 
Finati  was  the  interpreter,  or  Janizary,  who  accompanied  Mr.  Bankes 
through  Egypt  and  Syria.  He  is  an  Italian,  who  being  seized  by 
Napoleon's  universal  conscription,  deserted  from  his  army  in  Dalmatia  to 
the  Turks,  and  was  by  them,  after  some  cruel  treatment,  compelled  to 
turn  Mahometan.  The  narrative  is  a  mere  outline,  and  yet  it  is  amusing  ; 
its  truth  is  fully  vouched  for,  and  the  scenes  through  which  it  leads 
(the  war  of  Mahomet  Ali  in  Upper  Egypt,  and  against  the  Wahabees 
in  Arabia,)  are  totally  new  to  the  European  reader. 

Van  Halen's  story  is  not  less  curious  from  the  scene  in  which  a  large 
portion  of  it  lies,  the  Caucasus,  during  the  wars  of  the  Russians  with  the 
mountain  tribes.  He  wras  originally  distinguished  in  his  native  service, 
the  Spanish,  during  the  peninsular  war.  On  the  return  of  the  King  he 
was  thrown  into  prison  as  a  republican,  from  which  he  escaped  in  a  most 
romantic  manner  ;  he  then  volunteered  into  the  Russian  service,  and 
was  employed  in  its  Georgian  army.  There,  however,  some  unexplained 
jealousy  pursued  him,  and  he  was  sent  across  the  front:  jr  under  a  guard, 
delivered  to  the  Austrian  court,  and  by  it,  after  some  delays,  set  at 
liberty,  but  with  orders  to  keep  clear  of  its  boundaries  in  future.  Ho 
returned  to  Spain,  was  forced  to  fly  again ;  went  to  America,  came  back 
to  England,  settled  in  Belgium,  where  he  had  some  relatives,  headed  the 
late  insurrection  and  beat  the  Dutch :  was  still  unaccountably  exposed 
to  jealousies,  and  after  having  achieved  this  victory  was  thrown  into 
prison  in  order  to  be  tried  for  some  offence  to  the  patriotic  cause.  From 
that  prison  he  has  just  been  liberated,  and  he  has  the  world  before  him 
once  more.  The  book  is  spirited  and  interesting. 


1830.]  [    *695 


THE    LAST    WORDS    OF    THE    MEN    AT    ST.  DUNSTAN  S. 

PLACEMEN,  churchmen,  sinecurists. 

Fops  and  courtiers,  fools,  and  cits, 
Nobles,  noodles,  talkers,  tourists, 

Kings,  economists  and  wits ! 
Come,  all  creatures,  clowns,  sublime, 
Tumblers  in  life's  Pantomime  ! 
Come,  each  whipper-in  that  lingers 

To  support  some  precious  plan  ; 
Ye  who  cannot  "  count  your  fingers/' 

Ye  who,  graced  with  genius,  can  ! 
Come  ye  finders,  and  ye  seekers, 
Voters  dumb,  and  drowsy  speakers. 

State-physicians,  rhetoricians, 

Deeply  read  in  <e  aye"  and  "  no ;" 

Advocates  for  abolitions, 

Foes  to  fetters,  whips  and  woe; 

Half-pay  hero,  pensioned  peer, 

Dukes  and  dunces,  hear  us  !  hear  ! 

Ye  who,  with  unchanged  approval, 
Crown  the  fallen  Duke  with  flowers, 

Ye  who  mourn  o'er  his  removal, 
What  have  you  to  say  to  ours  ? 

We,  who  held  so  long  together, 

Laughing  at  all  sorts  of  weather ! 

We  were  more  for  office  fitted, 
Far  more,  than  his  Grace,  whose  phiz 

Rivalled  ours — though  all  admitted 
That  our  heads  resembled  his ; 

Whether  made  of  brass  or  wood, 

Still  the  likeness  holdeth  good. 

We  were  to  the  people's  liking, 
For  the  folks  who  stopped  the  way, 

Seeing  us,  saw  something  striking 
Every  hour  throughout  the  day. 

Yet  we  witnessed,  while  in  place, 

Nothing  striking  in  his  Grace ! 

One  thing,  though  not  used  to  slaughters, 
Still  we  shared,  as  equals  should ; 

For,  like  him,  we  looked  for  quarters, 
Let  the  time  be  what  it  would. 

He — like  us — the  moment  hailed, 

Never  missed  it,  never  failed. 

Yet  again  some  difference  dwells ; 

For  while  Mars,  allured  by  Venus, 
To  himself  had  several  belles, 

We  had  only  two — between  us. 
Still  it  must  be  here  conceded 
That  he  struck  them  not — as  we  did. 

We,  you  know,  near  "  Peele's"  resided  ; 

So  did  he,  although  he  scoffed ; 
But  the  folks  who  there  presided, 

When  they  feared  to  listen,  coughed. 
Mammoth  shrunk  into  a  mouse, 
And  'twas  called  "  Peel's  Coughing-House  !' 


'696  The  Last  Words  of  the  Men  at  St.  Dunstaris.  [DEc. 

But  'tis  done — swept  off  for  ever 

All  our  triumphs  now  are  o'er ; 
Such  a  glorious  trio  never, 

Since  creation,  fell  before. 
Yet  he  fought  as  he  retired, 
And  at  us  his  last  shot  fired. 

Yes,  at  us — w,ho  disappointed 

That  the  King  should  keep  afar, 
Longed  to  see  a  Lord's  Anointed 

Come  on  this  side  Temple-bar. 
When,  while  we  were  waiting  there, 
Lo  !  a  Letter  to  the  Mayor ! 

Then,  oh  !  then,  for  Birch  and  Gunter, 
How  we  grieved  ;  and  sighed  of  course, 

O'er  our  hopes  of  horse  and  Hunter — 
Such  a  Hunter — such  a  horse — 

Pallid  palfry  ! — to  eclipse 

Him  of  the  Apocalypse  ! 

We — who,  standing  like  two  sentries, 

Are  at  least  two  centuries  old — 
We  who  loved  these  public  entries, 

Gartered  lords  all  gout  and  gold, 
Knights  and  nonsense,  giants,  boys, 
Fudge,  and  finery,  and  noise — 

We  were  thus  debarred  from  viewing 

This,  the  triumph  of  the  town  ; 
And  to  finish  our  undoing, 

Like  his  Grace,  were  taken  down — 
Sold,  and  sent,  by  two  or  three  gents., 
To  adorn  a  park — the  Regent's. 

Now  we  much  desire  to  know — 

But  our  hopes  are  dying  embers — 
Why  our  clubs  must  westward  go, 

Where  they've  far  more  clubs  than  members  ? 
By  the  way — we've  just  bethought  us 
Why  on  earth  Lord  Hertford  bought  us  ? 

If  some  classic  female  taste 

Hath  for  us  a  predilection, 
Sure  he'll  let  our  limbs  be  graced 

With  whate'er  defies  inspection. 
Ladies  peeping,  we  might  scare  *em, 
In  that  snug  sub-urban  Harem. 

Yet  in  vain  his  lordship's  labour, 

When  he  panted  to  possess 
Our  illustrious  statued  neighbour, 

Glorious,  golden-sceptered  Bess  ! 
Scandal  'twere  that  such  a  scene 
Should  receive  the  Virgin  Queen  1 

But  farewell !  we  ask  no  pity, 

And,  like  transports,  bid  adieu  ! 
Farewell  to  the  sighing  city — 

Gayer  spots  we  go  to  view. 
Fleet-street,  haunt  of  gas  and  glee, 
Fun  is  not  confined  to  thee !  B. 


1830.]  [    697    ] 

MONTHLY  REVIEW  OF  LITERATURE,  DOMESTIC  AND  FOREIGN. 


A  New  Voyage  Round  the  World  in  the 
Years  1823,  4,  5,  and  6,  by  Otto  Von 
Kotzebue,  Post  Captain  in  the  Russian 
Navy ;  2  vols.  12»no. — This  voyage  round 
the  world  appears  as  an  original  produc- 
tion, but  we  suppose  Captain  Kotzebue 
published  it  in  his  own  country — it  is 
four  years  since  he  completed  his  tour. 
For  the  most  part  the  regions  he  visits 
are  not  visited  every  day,  and  the  intel- 
ligence he  brings  is  most  of  it  news. 
The  missionary  journals,  indeed,  furnish 
more  recent  information  from  the  Pacific, 
but  they  do  not  fall  into  every  body's 
hands,  though,  apart  from  their  cant, 
they  deserve  a  wider  circulation,  for  they 
often  supply  much  that  is  of  value  geo- 
graphically and  morally.  Capt.  K.  tells 
his  tale  very  agreeably — it  is  quite  a  per- 
sonal narrative,  and  unencumbered  with 
matters  drily  scientific,  which  seldom 
mix  well  with  the  details  of  a  passing 
glance,  and  that  is  all  the  captain  takes. 
There  is  often  more  liberality  in  the 
sentiments  than  seems  calculated  for  the 
meridian  of  Petersburg. 

Captain  K.  sailed  from  Cronstadt  in  a 
frigate  of  considerable  size,  with  a  cargo 
for  Kamschatka  (pronounced  Kanschat- 
ka).  His  orders  were  to  proceed  from 
thence  to  the  north-west  coast  of  Ame- 
rica, for  the  protection  of  the  Russian 
company  at  Iloss — to  remain  on  that 
station  a  year,  and  then  to  return  to 
Cronstadt.  In  going  and  returning  he 
was  left  wholly  to  his  own  discretion, 
and  he  turned  the  liberty  allowed  him, 
to  the  prosecution  of  geographical  disco- 
very. Starting  from  Cronstadt,  in  the 
summer  of  1823,  he  first  landed  at  Ports- 
mouth, and  next  at  Rio  Janeiro,  where 
he  met  with  Lord  Cochrane,  and  made 
his  acquaintance.  Lord  C.  had  recently 
quitted  Chili,  and  was  then  in  the  Brazil 
service,  and  longing  to  enter  the  Rus- 
sian, for  the  purpose  of  assisting  the 
Greeks  and  fighting  the  Turks.  "  War 
seems  to  him,"  says  Capt.  K.,  "  asindis- 
pensible,  and  struggle  in  defence  of  a  good 
cause  the  highest  enjoyment."  The  cap- 
tain, however,  is  puzzled  how  to  recon- 
cile this,  which  he  calls  enthusiasm,  with 
the  noble  lord's  passion  for  money.  Doub- 
ling Cape  Horn,  with  scarcely  a  gale  to 
ripple  the  waters,  he  stops  next  on  the 
coast  of  Chili,  where  though  he  was 
welcomed  with  apparent  cordiality,  sus- 
picions were  excited — the  natives  were 
full  of  alarms  about  the  Spaniards,  and 
he  found  it  prudent  to  hasten  his  depar- 
ture. From  the  port  of  Talcuquanha, 
he  struck  into  the  south-east  trade 
wind,  and  3,000  or  4,000  miles  swept 
over  in  three  weeks,  took  him  to  O 
Tahaita  (for  the  O,  it  seems,  is  only 
the  article),  where  he  spent  some  time 
— long  enough  to  ascertain  the  dege- 

M.M.   New  Series. — VOL.  X.  No.  GO. 


nerating  condition  of  the  island.  The 
advance  so  rapidly  made  by  the  activity 
and  energy  of  Pomareh  is  fast  retro- 
grading. The  navy,  of  which  so  much 
was  said  a  few  years  ago,  has  almost 
wholly  vanished.  Three  or  four  mis- 
sionaries, themselves  ignorant  men,  rule 
despotically ;  and  praying  and  preaching, 
Captain  K.  found  substituted  for  more 
active  pursuits.  So  completely  cowed 
are  the  natives,  by  the  theocratic  disci- 
pline of  these  men,  that  they  allow 
themselves  to  be  driven  to  prayers  by 
the  cudgel.  The  religion  of  the  islanders, 
Captain  K.  affirms,  is  mere  formality. 
The  missionaries,  it  is  true,  have  abo- 
lished some  superstitions,  but  only  to 
make  way  for  others  scarcely  less  gross. 
Thieving  and  concubinage  are  under 
some  restraint,  but  bigotry  and  hypocrisy 
flourish  vigorously,  and  the  Tahaitians 
are  now  any  thing  but  the  open  and  bene- 
volent beings  they  appeared  to  their  first 
discoverers.  If  human  sacrifices  are 
abandoned,  it  has  been  at  the  expense 
of  a  large  majority  of  the  population. 
They  were  once  estimated  at  150,000 ; 
and  do  not  now  exceed  8,000 — the  effect 
of  the  chief's  (Taio)  conversion,  who 
butchered  right  and  left,  and  almost 
cleared  the  island.  There  must  be  some 
exaggeration  here,  for  the  massacre  took 
place  in  17'J7,  and  Pomareh  could  never 
have  accomplished  what  he  did  with  a 
population  of  8,000.  A  son  of  Taio, 
whom  Pomareh  destroyed,  is  still  living, 
— he  has,  it  seems,  a  party  in  the  island, 
and  Captain  K.  anticipates  an  explosion, 
and  a  violent  end  to  the  present  dynasty 
and  the  missionary  power. 

At  O  Tahaita,  he  met  with  one  of 
Adams's  seraglio,  lately  returned  to  her 
native  home  from  Pitcairn's  Island. 
From  information  received  from  her, 
and  an  American  captain  who  had  re- 
cently visited  the  island,  M.  Kotzebue 
repeats  the  now  well-known  story  of  the 
settlement  of  the  mutineers  of  the 
Bounty.  The  Mai  du  pays  had  brought 
the  old  lady  home,  but  she  soon  changed 
her  mind  again.  She  found  O  Tahaita 
sadly  degenerated — it  was  no  longer  like 
the  Paradise  she  had  left ;  nobody  could 
be  compared,  she  said,  with  her  Adams. 
Missionaries,  it  seems,  are  likely  to  ex- 
tend their  dominion  to  that  peaceful  and 
gentle  family.  "May  Adams's  paternal 
government,"  says  K.,  "  never  be  ex- 
changed for  despotism,  nor  his  practical 
lessons  of  piety  be  forgotten  in  empty 
forms  of  prayer" — a  wish  Ave  heartily 
echo. 

From  O  Tahaita  Kotzebue  steered 
westerly  to  Navigator's  Islands,  and  be- 
yond— ascertaining  the  geographical  po- 
sitions of  several  contested  spots,  and 
discovering  new  lands.  Proceeding  then 

4  T 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[DEC. 


northward  he  reached  the  Radack  Is- 
lands, a  group,  in  about  ten  degrees 
north  and  one  hundred  and  seventy  east 
from  Greenwich,  which  he  himself,  we 
believe,  discovered  in  1816.  Landing 
at  Otdia,  he  was  joyfully  recognised  by 
many  of  the  natives,  and  the  name  of 
Totabu  (their  articulation  of  Kotzebue) 
was  echoed  with  delight.  The  natives 
of  these  beautiful  islands  are  represented 
as  gentle  and  well  disposed — very  much, 
indeed,  as  the  O  Tahaitians  were  origi- 
nally. They  have  not  yet  got  the  mis- 
sionaries among  them. 

On  the  captain's  arrival  at  the  Russian 
company's  settlement,  at  Ross,  on  the 
north-west  coast  of  America,  he  found 
his  services  not  required  for  some 
months,  and  he  filled  up  the  interval  by 
an  excursion  to  California  and  the  Sand- 
wich islands.  In  a  few  months  after  his 
return  to  Ross,  he  was  very  agreeably 
relieved  from  a  most  unpleasant  station 
— the  description  of  which  is,  we  believe, 
quite  in  tact,  but  we  have  no  space  for 

Quotation — and  he  prepared  to  return 
ome  by  the  sea  of  China,  and  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope.  In  his  way,  he  a  se- 
cond time  called  at  O  Wahi  (Owhyee). 
The  bodies  of  Rio  Rio,  and  the  Queen, 
had  since  his  first  visit  arrived.  He 
found  a  considerable  change.  Queen 
Nomahanna — who  stands  six  feet  two, 
without  shoes  or  stockings,  (for  none 
from  Europe  can  she  get  on,  and  none, 
of  course,  are  made  at^  home,)  and  two 
ells  round,  is  governed  by  the  American 
missionaries,  and  the  island,  like  O  Ta- 
haita,  is  rapidly  going  backwards.  The 
chief  charm  of  the  Christian  religion 
seemed  to  the  women  to  be — that  they 
might  now  eat  pork  as  much  as  they 
liked,  and  not  be  confined  solely  to  dogs' 
flesh.  He  met  an  old  man  with  a  book 
— the  captain  inquired  if  he  was  learning 
to  read — No,  he  was  only  making  be- 
lieve, to  please  the  Queen.  What  is 
the  use  of  B,  A,  Ba?  Will  it  make 
yams  and  potatoes  grow  ?  Another  old 
man  was  imploring  the  Queen's  assist- 
ance— ".If  you  won't  learn  to  read,"  says 
she,  "you  may  go  and  drown  yourself." 
All  this  is  enforced  by  Bingham,  the 
missionary— discontents  spread  among 
the  Yeris — they  set  fire  to  the  church 
lately— Captain  K.  looks  for  nothing  but 
a  general  revolt.  The  Captain,  in  his 
passage  to  the  Ladrones  and  Philippines, 
made  some  new  discoveries,  and  visited 
St.  Helena  in  his  way  home,  and  has 
made  a  very  pleasant  book. 

The  Life  and  Times  of  George  IV.,  by 
Rev.  G.  Crdy.— There  is  scarcely  any 
separating  the  private  from  the  public 
life  of  a  sovereign,  or  of  one  born  to 
sovereignty,  and  in  the  case  of  George 
the  Fourth  least  of  all,  for  though  fifty 
years  old  before  his  accession  to  power, 


from  his  earliest  youth  he  was  mixed 
up  with  a  party,  'who  seized  upon  the 
heir-apparent  as  a  ready  instrument  for 
worrying  the  minister,  and  promoting 
their  own  selfish  purposes.  The  whole 
complexion  of  his  life  to  the  very  hour 
of  the  regency  was  tinged  with  the 
colours  of  this  restless  party ;  they 
prompted  his  political  actions,  and  en- 
couraged his  private  expense  ;  their 
leaders  were  his  table  companions,  and 
even  the  blacklegs  and  demireps  who 
hemmed  him  in  on  every  side,  were  but 
the  dregs  of  this  absorbing  faction.  His 
purse  and  his  credit  were  drained  by 
excesses  thus  excited  ;  they  were  the 
persons  who  flung  his  debts  in  the  minis- 
ter's face,  and  upbraided  the  sovereign's 
penuriousness  as  the  source  of  all  the 
mischief.  Deeply  impressed  with  the 
pernicious  influence  of  this  party  on  the 
conduct  and  character  of  the  prince,  Mr. 
Croly  fills  his  spirited  pages  with  the 
political  history  of  the  whigs  ;  he  is 
merciless  in  detecting  their  intrigues 
and  exposing  their  obliquities ;  he  tri- 
umphs in  their  defeats,  and  exults  in 
their  shame.  The  whole  blame  of  the 
prince's  first  rushings  into  extravagance 
they  threw  upon  the  king,  whom  they 
chose  to  represent  as  keeping  so  tight  a 
hand  upon  the  youth  that  till  the  hour 
of  emancipation,  he  knew  not  what 
relaxation  meant — no  wonder  he  leaped 
the  fences  of  moderation— while  the  fact 
seems  to  have  been,  that  though  he  and 
his  brother  of  York  were  brought  up  with 
due  observance  of  domestic  regularity, 
they  were  early  enough  initiated  in  the 
decorous  gaieties  of  their  rank  ;  and  balls, 
and  parties,  and  amusements,  with  those 
of  their  own  age,  were  of  sufficiently 
frequent  occurrence  to  satisfy  any  class. 
Education  at  a  public  school,  Avhere  they 
might  have  roughed  it  a  little  with  their 
fellows— as  the  present  king  did  with 
his  brother  middies— Mr.  Croly  justly 
thinks,  would  have  been  all  the  better 
for  them  and  the  country.  They  would 
scarcely  have  thought  of  laying  the 
birch  about  the  master  of  Eton,  as  it 
seems  they  did  on  the  back  of  Arnold  ; 
or  have  been  in  after-life  so  fond  of 
unworthy  associates,  as  at  least  one  of 
them  was. 

Scarcely  had  three  years  elapsed  from 
the  prince's  first  establishment  at  Carl- 
ton -House,  when  debts  to  the  amount 
of  triple  his  income  were  found  to  have 
been  incurred — the  subject  came  before 
parliament — the  sovereign,  vexed  at  an 
outbreak  that  seemed  to  reflect  on  his 
parental  management,  and  the  minister 
annoyed  by  the  caballings  of  the  whigs, 
concurred  in  venting  their  angry  feel- 
ings upon  the  young  and  scarcely  cen- 
surable victim,  and  studiously  made  the 
arrangement  a  source  of  lasting  annoy- 
ance. The  turbulent  efforts  of  the 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


699 


party,  apparently  exerted  for  his  benefit, 
formed  a  new  tie,  and  in  the  following 
year  their  attempts  to  grasp  for  him  the 
regency,  rivetted  it  still  more  closely. 
Politics  from  that  period  were  for  a  time 
abandoned  in  disgust ;  and  profligacy 
and  extravagance  reigned  unchecked  but 
by  accumulating  embarrassments  of  debt, 
till  in  the  year  1795,  in  an  evil  hour,  the 
prince  compromised  his  character  for 
honour  and  elevation  of  spirit,  by  com- 
pounding with  the  minister  for  the  pay- 

,„ t.     _A*I_?_      _i  _  i  A.  _      i          A.     i_?__  __     _          ?/»-         r> 


a  change,  in  this  respect,  appears  even 
to  have  been  contemplated.  This  un- 
accountable neglect  was  finally  visited 
upon  the  whigs.  When  the  restrictions 
on  the  regent  terminated— power,  abso- 
lute power,  seemed  to  be  theirs  of  right 
— thev  would  listen  to  no  terms — they 
proclaimed  their  intention  of  riding 
rough-shod  through  Carlton-House ;  and 
the  gates  were  deservedly  closed  against 
them.  The  death  of  the  poor  old  af- 
flicted king  gave  the  sceptre  to  the  re- 


ment  of  his  debts  by  taking  a  wife  of    gent,  and  a  few  months  brought  over  his 
his,  or  at  least  of  others'  selection.     It     insulted  wife.      She  insisted  upon  her 

re^al  rights ;  the  king  was  resolute  in 
refusing  them  ;  he  took  passion  and 
pride  for  his  counsellors;  he  subjected 
her  to  a  trial,  and  was,  as  he  deserved 
to  be,  thoroughly  baffled.  Mr.  C.  throws 
all  upon  Lord  Liverpool  and  his  imbeci- 
lity.— '  alwaj's,  hitherto,  a  feeble,  unpur- 
posed,  and  timid  minister,  he  now  put  on 
a  preposterous  courage,  and  defied  this 
desperate  woman.  "He  might  better 
have  taken  a  tiger  by  the  beard,'  &c. 
But  the  truth  is  the  King  was  impera- 
tive— Lord  Liverpool,  to  be  sure,  had 
his  alternative— but  that  alternative  was 
resignation ! 

The  volume,  as  the  time  will  tell,  is 
hastily  got  up,  but  vigorously  written — 
the  dictate  of  moral  scorn  perhaps  too 
exclusively  launched  at  the  hapless 
whigs.  Their  story  will  be  thought  to 
be  too  prominently  told,  but  it  is  an 
instructive  story,  and  may  well  plead  a 
justifiable  excuse.  Mr.  Croly's  animated 
eloquence  is  well  known,  and  he  falls 
short,  in  this  effort,  of  nothing  which 
he  has  ever  accomplished. 

The  Water  Witch,  or  the  Skimmer  of 
the  Seas,  a  Tale,  by  the  Author  of  "  The 
Borderers,"  <$r.  fyc.  ;  3  vols.,  12mo. — 
The  novelist  of  the  seas— produce  what 
he  will  in  the  shape  of  tales— must 
always  be  readable  ;  not  that  he  ever 
makes  a  good  tale,  but  because  he  paints 
his  own  element,  and  all  that  floats  upon- 
it,  so  admirably.  The  Water  Witch, 
the  name  of  a  smuggling  vessel,  is  but 
another  Red  Rover,  in  the  beauty  of  its 
construction,  and  the  facility,  and  all 
but  intelligence,  of  its  movements.  The 
commander,  the  Skimmer  of  the  Seas,  is 
again  the  identical  Skipper  of  the  Rover 
— the  same  bold  and  reckless  character, 
with  the  like  generous  and  seaman-like 
qualities.  The  Skimmer  is  apparently 
nothing  but  a  smuggler,  while  the  other 
is  wholly  a  pirate ;  but  the  marking 
difference  in  the  Water  Witch  is  the 
introduction  of  some  mechanism  and 
mummery  to  attach  the  crew  to  his 
person  and  interests  by  the  chains  of 
their  superstitions.  The  scene  of  the 
tale  is  almost  entirely  confined  to  the 
waters  of  New  York — the  intricacies  of 
which  with  the  land,  though  laid  down 


was  truly  a  heartless  business,  and  Mr. 
Croly,  though  a  ready  apologist,  ex- 
presses in  manly  terms  his  disgust  as 
well  at  the  motives  for  the  marriage,  as 
the  sources  of  the  early  separation.  The 
immediate  occasion  is  attributed,  with- 
out reserve,  to  Lady  Jersey,  who,  by 
intercepting  the  princess's  confidential 
letters  to  her  family,  inflamed  the  in- 
dignant lady  finally  to  insist  upon  a 
formal  separation.  The  prince's  own 
embarrassments  at  the  time  are  amus- 
ingly told. 

The  princess  had  no  hesitation  in  requiring 
Lady  Jersey's  dismissal  from  the  household.  Her 
first  demand  was  that  this  woman  should  not  be 
suffered  to  appear  at  the  table,  when  the  prince 
was  not  present.  The  request  was  not  complie 
with.  The  princess  next  applied  to  the  king. 
His  majesty  immediately  intefered,  and  directed 
that  Lady  Jersey  should  "  come  no  more  into 
waiting,"  and  should  be  given  up.  Half  of  this 
order  was  complied  with:  her  ladyship  was  dis- 
missed from  her  waiting  ;  but  she  was  not  given 
up. 

Never  was  there  a  more  speaking  lesson  to  the 
dissipations  of  men  of  rank,  than  the  prince's 
involvements.  While  he  was  thus  wearied  with 
the  attempt  to  extricate  himself  from  Lady  Jer- 
sey's irritations,  another  claimant  came;  Mrs. 
Fitzherbcrt  was  again  in  the  field.  Whatever 
might  be  her  rights  ;  since  the  royal  marriage, 
at  least,  the  right  of  a  wife  could  not  be  included 
among  them;  but  her  demands  were  not  the  less 
embarrassing.  A  large  pension,  a  handsome  out- 
fit, and  a  costly  mansion  in  Park-lane,  at  length 
reconciled  her  to  life  ;  and  his  royal  highness 
had  the  delight  of  being  hampered  with  three 
women  at  a  time,  two  of  them  prodigal,  and 
totally  past  the  day  of  attraction,  even  if  attrac- 
tion could  have  been  an  excuse;  and  the  third 
complaining  of  neglects,  which  brought  upon  him 
and  his  two  old  women  a  storm  of  censure  and 
ridicule.  But  the  whole  narrative  is  painful,  and 
cannot  be  too  hastily  passed  over. 

From  this  period  pleasure  was  again 
the  business  of  life,  and  scarcely  does 
Mr.  Croly  find  any  thing  to  record  re- 
lative to  the  prince — save  the  celebrated 
inquiry  in  1806  —  till  the  regency. 
Through  the  revolutionary  wars  the 
prince's  repeated  importunities  for  pub- 
lic employment  were  coldly  repulsed  ; 
and  even  under  the  coalition  ministry, 
when  Fox  was  in  power,  no  attempt  at 


7.00 


MoiUhly  Review  of  Literature, 


[DEC. 


with  the  precision  of  a  geometrical  sur- 
veyor, and  described  with  the  author's 
own  glowing  pencil,  still  require  a  chart 
— of  so  much  importance  are  me  localities 
to  a  tolerable  conception  of  the  piece. 
The  chief  characters  are  an  honest 
Dutch  Burgher's  family,  the  Skimmer 
himself,  and  the  gallant  captain  of  the 
English  cruizer  on  the  station  ;  and  the 
period  of  time  is  the  latter  part  of  Queen 
Anne's  reign,  when  Lord  Cornbury,  the 
queen's  cousin,  had  just  been  superseded 
in  the  government  of  New  York,  but 
was  still  unable  to  leave  the  colony  for 
the  claims  of  his  creditors.  He  is  re- 
presented—  historically — as  a  man  of 
profligate  habits,  and  driven — to  enable 
him  to  meet  the  demands  incurred  by 
extravagance — not  only  to  connive  at 
smuggling,  but  to  join  in  the  ventures, 
and  connect  himself  with  even  more 
unjustifiable  transactions.  Buccaneer- 
ing habits  still  lingered  among  the  Eng- 
lish, and  the  Drakes  and  Raleighs,  who 
Avere  in  their  day  no  better  than  lega- 
lized pirates,  had  left  their  mantles 
behind  them,  and  they  were  not  yet 
worn  to  rags.  Lord  Cornbury  is  brought 
prominently  forward,  but  unluckily  for 
the  interest  of  the  tale,  is  not  well  mixed 
up  with  its  texture  —  he  only  fills  the 
pages,  without  advancing  the  story. 

The  old  burgher  has  a  country  house  a 
few  miles  from  New  York,  but  still 
within  the  waters  of  the  estuary,  where 
he  occasionally  goes,  professedly  for 
country  air  and  retirement,  but,  in  rea- 
lity, the  better  to  cover  his  intercourse 
with  the  commander  of  the  Water 
Witch — for  he  dabbles  in  contraband 
wares.  On  one  occasion  he  is  accom- 
panied by  his  niece,  a  wealthy  heiress — 
a  lady  for  whom  the  captain  of  the 
English  cruizer  avows  his  admiration. 
The  captain,  who  calls  to  pay  his  de- 
voirs, makes  some  awkward  discoveries 
relative  to  the  old  burgher's  dealings 
with  the  smuggler,  and  his  duties  and 
affections  come  a  little  into  conflict.  He 
is,  however,  too  much  a  man  of  honour, 
and  too  much  devoted  to  his  profession, 
to  suffer  his  public  duties  to  give  way 
to  his  private  feelings.  They  only  mo- 
dify his  conduct.  Circumstances  occur 
also  to  excite  his  jealousy — he  surprises 
the  young  lady  smiling  very  graciously 
upon  a  youthful,  but  very  animated 
personage,  who  was  displaying  before 
her  his  silks  and  laces,  and  whom,  the 
captain  concludes,  though  he  seeais  fitter 
for  a  lady's  boudoir  than  a  smuggler's 
deck,  is  the  notorious  commander  of  the 
Water  Witch.  That  same  night  she 
suddenly  disappears,  and  every  body,  as 
well  as  the  captain,  believes  her  to  have 
gone  off  with  the  Skimmer  on  board  the 
Wj.ter  Witch.  This  remarkable  vessel 
was  Avell  known  on  the  station  —  the 
caplyin  had  long  had  orders  to  seize  her, 


and,  exasperated  as  he  was  at  the  recent 
event,  on  discovering  she  was  within  the 
waters,  he  loses  not  a  moment  in  com- 
mencing the  pursuit  of  her.  The  chase 
is  eagerly  prosecuted,  and  vast  space  is 
occupied  in  describing  the  witch's  ma- 
noeuvres, and  the  captain's  annoyance, 
at  finding  himself  repeatedly  baffled. 
The  sailors  universally  believe  her  some 
unearthly  thing.  Giving  up  the  pursuit 
at  last  as  hopeless,  the  captain  returns 
to  his  station,  and  visiting  the  old  bur- 
gher's country  house  he  again  finds  the 
lady,  who  reappears  as  if  nothing  had 
happened,  and  again  in  company  with 
the  smuggler.  The  burgher's  house  is 
neutral  ground — the  Skimmer  is  safe 
from  his  resentments  and  his  authority  ; 
but  returning  to  his  ship  in  the  even- 
ing, the  captain  intercepts  him  in  a  boat, 
and  whips  him  off  to  his  own  deck.  The 
seizure  is  communicated,  at  the  smug- 
gler's desire,  to  the  family,  and  they  all, 
in  a  body,  come  aboard,  and  the  captain 
politely  cedes  his  cabin  to  the  party. 
But  the  Water  Witch  is  within  sight, 
and  he,  with  the  visitors  and  the  prisoner 
on  board,  again  starts  in  pursuit  of  her, 
and  is  again  fairly  baffled — he  loses 
sight  of  her,  but  falls  in  with  a  French 
frigate,  and  an  engagement  ensues,  in 
which  the  captain  offers  the  Skimmer  a 
chance  of  redeeming  his  credit  in  the 
command  of  some  guns.  The  offer 
leads  to  a  discovery,  which  explains 
some  previous  mysteries — the  Skimmer 
proves  a  lady,  and  declines  the  com- 
mand. Returning  to  the  New  York 
waters  the  real  Skimmer  comes  on  board, 
and  gives  the  captain  notice  of  a  new 
and  inore  formidable  French  force ;  and, 
finally,  by  his  exertions,  and  those  of 
part  of  his  crew,  rescues  him  from  cer- 
tain destruction.  Scarcely  is  the  captain 
thus  nobly  rescued,  when  the  ship  is 
discovered  to  be  on  fire,  and  a  tre- 
mendous scene  of  distress  follows — from 
which,  when  all  hope  has  vanished,  they 
are  again  delivered  by  the  Witch's  crew. 
Discoveries  and  explanations  now  take 
place  at  the  old  burgher's— the  lady  who 
so  long  figured  as  the  Skimmer  is  the 
old  man's  daughter — she  finally  refuses 
to  abandon  the  Skimmer  —  (the  scene 
here  is  a  very  striking  one) — and  he 
and  she  put  to  sea  again,  and  are  heard 
of  no  more. 

Principles  of  Geology,  by  Charles  Lyell, 
Esq,  Vol.  /.—Mr.  Lyell' s  book  is  a 
masterly  performance,  and  its  publication 
will  form  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  a 
science,  Avhich,  Avhile  its  professors  are 
most  of  them  in  chase  of  theories  — 
thinking  of  little  but  cosmogonies — is  yet 
adding  daily  to  our  real  and  useful 
knowledge  o"f  the  globe,  and  detecting 
or  defining  the  laAvs  of  nature.  The 
leading-  object  of  the  author  is  to  shew 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


701 


that  those  forces  which  are  now  con- 
fessedly in  operation,  constantly  work- 
ing changes,  are  precisely  such  as  have 
produced  the   earliest  traceable  effects 
on  the  earth's  surface.     The  introduc- 
tory portion  of  the  volume — after  de- 
fining the  legitimate  objects  of  geology, 
and  tracing  the  history  of  its  progress 
through  its  chief  professors  from  remote 
antiquity  to  the  days  of  Werner   and 
Hutton — is  occupied  with  the  removal 
of  sundry  popular,  and  some  speculative 
objections  to  the  doctrine  which  he  pro- 
fesses to  establish.     Among  the  latter  is 
what  may  be  termed  the  theory  of  the 
progressive  development  of  organic  life. 
The  strata  of  the  earth  apparently  have 
been  deposited  successively,  at  different 
periods.    In  the  earlier  or  deeper  strata 
are  found,  it  is  said,  nothing  but  vege- 
tation, and  first,  of  the  simplest  kind — 
then  successively,  nearer  the   surface, 
come  shells,  then  fishes,  then  oviparous 
animals,  then  birds,  then    quadrupeds, 
and  finally,  .in  the  gravel  and  sand,  the 
diluvian  formations,  quadrumanous  ani- 
mals, and  the  remains  of  such  species  as 
now  people  the  surface,  along  with  the 
consummation  of  organic  life,  man.  This 
theory,  by  certain  geologists  —  Cuvier, 
the  chief  of  them — -'is  maintained  as  in- 
disputable ;    and   this   theory,   as   most 
conflicting   with    his    own   conclusions, 
Mr.  Lyell  sets  himself  earnestly  to  sub- 
vert.   A  very  little  examination  shews 
on  what  a  very  slight  foundation  this 
magnificent  structure  is  built.     In  the 
lowest  strata  in  which  any  thing  organic 
has  appeared,  even  vertebrated  animals 
have     been    found — not    numerous,   it 
is  true,  but  one  undoubted  specimen  is 
as  good  as  a  thousand  for  the  distinction 
of  the   absolute   doctrine    in   question. 
The  simplest  vegetation,  again,  seems 
the  cryptogamic,  but  even  dicotyledons 
have  been  found  along  with  them,   and 
these,  few  though  comparatively   they 
may  be,  are  at  once  fatal  to  the  theory 
of  successive  development.     Geological 
facts,  in  short,  do  not  warrant  the  now 
popular  notion  of  a  traceable  gradation 
from  the  simplest  to  the  most  complex 
forms  in    unison   with    the    successive 
strata  of  the  earth  ;  nor  will  the  con- 
fessedly recent  origin  of  man  interfere 
with  the  author's  doctrine,  that  the  laws 
of  nature  now  in  operation   differ   not 
from  those  which   produced  the  oldest 
known  effects.     In  his  mind,  man  is  not 
the  concluding  link,  no,  nor  any  link,  in 
the  supposed  series  ;  his  superiority  con- 
sists not  in  an\'  part  of  his  organization 
which  is  in  common  with  animals,  but 
in  his  intellect — his  reason,  with  which 
there  is  nothing  to  compare  in  animals — 
no    gradation,    no    approach.     The  in- 
stincts of  animals  are  unimproveable,  or, 
at  all  events,  the  improvement  of  which 
they  may  seem  slightly  susceptible,  is 


not  transmissible— the  race-horse  is  not 
more  intelligent  than  the  cart-horse. 
The  truth  apparently  is,  that  too  little 
is  yet  known  to  warrant  such  broad 
deductions — our  acquaintance,  geologi- 
cally, with  the  globe  in  its  whole 
circumference,  is  comparatively  insig- 
nificant ;  and  facts  are  continually  con- 
curring to  shew  how  precipitate  these 
speculatists  have  been.  In  spite  of  the 
eternal  babble  about  the  inductive  pro- 
cess, it  is  for  ever  lost  sight  of.  Mr. 
Lyell  is  a  sober  inquirer,  and  as  far  as 
the  real  facts  and  discoveries  of  geolo- 
gists have  yet  gone,  he  finds  no  ground 
for  concluding  that  the  globe  has  ever 
been  governed  by  different  physical 
laws. 

The  proper  object  of  geology  is  to 
investigate  the  changes  which  have 
taken  place  in  the  organic  as  well  as  in 
the  inorganic  portions  of  nature ;  but  as 
the  inorganic  changes  are  most  apparent, 
they  claim  the  author's  first  attention. 
The  great  agents  of  changes  are  aqueous, 
rivers,  torrents,  springs,  currents,  and 
tides,  and  igneous,  volcanos  and  earth- 
quakes. Both  are  instruments  of  de- 
struction as  well  as  of  reproduction,  and 
both,  too,  may  be  regarded  as  antagonist 
forces.  The  aqueous  are  perpetually 
levelling  the  inequalities  of  the  earth's 
surface,  while  the  igneous  are  as  inces- 
sently  active  in  disturbing  the  level — 
elevating  one  portion  and  depressing 
another.  Two-thirds  of  Mr.  Lyell's 
interesting  volume  are  taken  up  with 
estimating  the  workings  of  these  potent 
agencies,  describing  at  the  same  time  all 
the  most  memorable  effects  recorded  in 
every  part  of  the  globe.  With  the  same 
view  a  glance  is  taken  round  the  whole 
of  the  English  coast.  The  geological 
changes  in  the  organic  kingdoms  of 
nature  will  occupy  another  volume, 
which,  from  the  author's  extensive 
knowledge  and  sober  judgment,  will,  we 
doubt  not,  be  looked  for  with  interest. 

Camden,  a  Tale  of  the  South;  3  vols. 
12 wo. — This  is  an  American  tale,  pub- 
lished originally  at  Philadelphia,  and 
fairly  brought  into  the  English  market  by 
Mr.  Newman,  for  what  it  is  worth,  and 
not  reproduced  as  '  fresh  fish.'  To  the 
few  who  have  any  knowledge  of  the 
military  details  of  the  American  war  of 
independence,  Camden  will  be  recog- 
nised as  the  scene  of  General  Gates's 
defeat  in  South  Carolina,  by  Lord  Corn- 
wallis,  in  the  year  1780.  Success  is  the 
criterion  of  worth  with  half  the  world, 
and  Gates's  reputation  rose  as  much 
above  his  real  deserts,  by  the  Convention 
of  Saratoga,  as  it  sunk  fathoms  deep 
below  them  by  the  disasters  of  Camden. 
His  best  merit  in  the  one  case  was  that 
he  was  cool,  cautious,  and  lucky,  and  his 
greatest  discredit  in  the  other,  that  he 


703 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[DEC. 


was  enterprising,  dashing,  and  unlucky. 
He  preferred  a  short  but  barren  route 
to  the  south,  to  a  fertile  but  circuitous 
one — the  measure  was  bold  and  adven- 
turous, but  not,  therefore,  precipitate 
and  ill-judged.  Circumstances  called  for 
a  speedy  encounter  with  the  enemy  ;  and 
unhappily  the  troops  were  surprised — 
forced  into  action,  when  weakened  by 
disease  and  short  allowance,  and  after 
the  exhaustion  of  a  night's  march — the 
Caroliners  fled  at  the  first  onset,  and  the 
rest  were  overwhelmed  by  numbers, 
after  a  resistance  that  commanded  the 
admiration  of  their  conquerors. 

In  the  tale  comes  a  Captain  Temple- 
ton  to  the  house  of  old  General  Leth- 
bridge,  who  resides  on  his  property,  in  a 
state  of  retirement,  a  few  miles  from 
Camden,  to  announce  the  advance  of 
General  Gates,  and  solicit  his  co-opera- 
tion,  and  influence  in  the  neighbourhood. 
This  captain  is  the  hero  of  the  novel, 
and  Miss  Lethbridge,  the  general's 
daughter,  is  the  heroine.  The  young 
folks  had  met  before,  and  had  felt  a 
mutual  attachment,  the  ardour  of  which, 
however,  had  been  chilled  by  misunder- 
standings —  these  are  of  course  soon 
cleared  up,  and  the  dying  embers  of 
affection  rekindle  and  blaze  afresh.  The 
old  general  bestirs  himself  without  loss 
of  time,  collects  his  friends,  joins  the 
troops,  and  mingles  in  the  fatal  fight. 
The  officers  connected  with  the  tale  are 
most  of  them  wounded,  and  all  captured. 
Among  them  is  the  colonel  of  Temple- 
ton's  regiment,  the  Marylanders,  who 
after  the  battle  is  introduced  to  the 
Lethbridges,  and  when  released  on 
parole,  visits  the  family,  where  he  falls 
in  love  with  the  young' lady  or  her  for- 
tune, and  forthwith  resolves  by  hook  or 
by  crook  to  supplant  the  captain.  The 
colonel  is  a  very  Lovelace,  as  profligate, 
as  mischievous,  as  plotting,  and  unprin- 
cipled, with  even  more  of  the  infernal 
about  him.  He  is  a  disciple  of  Hume  and 
Voltaire,  and  of  course,  in  the  writer's 
conceptions,  not  only  capable  of  villanies 
of  every  kind,  but  disposed  to  execute 
them.  He  contrives  to  involve  his  rival  in 
charges  of  cowardice,  disobedience,  and 
treason,  and  the  victim  is  finally  cashier- 
ed upon  one  of  them.  The  details  of 
the  profligate  colonel's  intrigues  —  the 
merited  punishment  he  at  last  meets 
with — the  clearing  up  of  Templeton's 
honour — his  restoration  to  rank,  and  the 
final  reconciliation  with  the  heroine  and 
her  friends,  constitute  the  texture  of  the 
tale.  The  piece  is  completely  American 
— not  merely  in  subject,  but  in  charac- 
ter. Dusty  Sam  is  coarse  painting,  and 
so  is  fat  Captain  JUoebuck,  but  doubtless 
both  of  them  have  resemblance  to  reali- 
ties—one of  them  is  a  Kentuckian.  Old 
Lethbridge  is  well  sustained,  with  all 
his  predilections  in  favour  of  the  Great 


Frederick  of  Prussia.  The  young  ladies 
are,  both  of  them,  agreeable  sketches — 
scarcely  refined  or  affected  enough  for 
our  boudoirs.  Like  all  the  ladies  who 
figure  in  American  novels,  they  are  full  of 
exclamations  and  expletives— Lord,  how 
pretty — Lord,  how  mad  you  make  me — 
with  a  thousand  similar  phrases,  univer- 
sal with  the  most  cultivated  in  England  a 
century  ago,  and  still  general  enough  in 
the  middle  ranks  of  society.  Colonel 
Taiieton  and  his  dragoons,  and  one  Cap- 
tain Huck,  of  the  same  corps,  seem  to 
have  left  a  terrible  impression — they  are 
represented  as  very  devils  incarnate. 
The  novel  is  well  calculated,  by  its  local 
and  historical  information,  to  extend  our 
acquaintance  with  America,  and  we  are 
glad  to  see  it  reprinted.  Mr.  New- 
man, we  hope,  will  go  on — will  select 
the  best,  and  not  be  deterred  by  compe- 
tition of  loftier  pretension. 

Demonology  and  Witchcraft,  by  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  Bart.  —  In  spite  of  the 
many  occasions  on  which  the  author  has 
shewn  more  than  a  common  penchant 
for  the  marvellous,  these  letters  as  good 
as  deny  the  farther  possibility  of  either 
ghosts  or  witches.  On  witches  he  has 
no  mercy,  at  any  period,  ancient  or  mo- 
dern, nor  indeed  any  tolerance  for  spirits, 
except  when  he  discusses  the  demonology 
of  the  scriptures,  where,  as  may  well  be 
supposed,  he  is  too  sound  a  theologian 
to  carry  scepticism  beyond  the  orthodox 
point.  Nothing,  to  be  sure,  can  well 
be  less  peremptory  than  his  sentiments 
on  this  part  of  the  subject.  "  Wise  and 
learned  men" — "  men  of  no  mean  autho- 
rity," have  said  so  and  so — except,  when 
speaking  of  the  obscurities  of  the  Bible 
on  these  matters,  he  oracularly  adds, 
"  all  is  told  that  can  be  important  for  us 
to  know" — and  here  he  is  as  peremptory 
in  fact  as  he  is  prostrate  in  words.  But 
as  to  witchcraft  he  has  no  misgivings. 
Witchcraft  implies  a  compact  with  the 
devil,  which  he  seems  to  affirm  was  as. 
impracticable,  when  the  Prince  of  Air 
exercised  powers  all  but  sovereign,  as 
it  is  now  when,  apparently,  if  we  take 
Sir  Walter  right,  he  has  none  at  all. 
The  Law  of  Moses  directs  that  witches 
shall  not  be  suffered  to  live.  But  what 
sort  of  things  were  those  witches  to 
which  Moses  alludes  ?  Why,  that  some- 
what puzzles  the  author  as  well  as  other 
folks ;  but  he  has  a  point  to  enforce, 
and  therefore  the  knot  must  be  cut,  if  it 
cannot  be  united.  The  original  word, 
he  is  told,  may  have  meant  nothing  but 
dabblers  in  poisons ;  and  though  the 
Witch  of  Endor  professed  to  deal  with 
spirits,  she  was  pretty  clearly  an  im- 
postor, and  at  all  events  there  is  no 
evidence  that  she  had  any  thing  to  do 
with  the  devil — professionally.  There- 
fore, the  scriptures  are  not  fairly  lia- 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


1830.] 

l)le  to  the  charge — a  charge  which  has 
never,  we  believe,  been  made  by  any 
but  such  as  shrink  from  a  confession 
of  ignorance  —  of  denouncing  an  im- 
possible crime.  Then  why  punish,  and 
that  capitally,  an  imaginary  offence  ? 
Because,  it  seems,  the  tendency  of  a 
power  of  appeal  to  spirits,  real  or  ima- 
ginary, was  to  withdraw  the  Jews  from 
their  allegiance — it  was  an  encourage- 
ment of  idolatry,  and  justly  fell  under 
the  same  penalty.  'But  though  the 
female  professors  of  witchcraft,  in  the 
scriptures,  were  as  mere  impostors  as 
their  successors  in  modern  times,  Sir 
"Walter  seems  to  hesitate  about  the  gen- 
tlemen— the  wizards,  if  not  the  witches, 
may  have  had  the  benefit  of  superna- 
tural communications — Pharaoh's  magi- 
cians, for  instance — we  do  not  know 
why.  The  truth  is,  there  is — pace  dixe- 
rimus — a  deal  of  twaddle  in  this  portion 
of  Sir  Walter's  entertaining  gossip. 

The  volume  is,  indeed,  a  choice  col- 
lection of  stories  relative  to  the  treat- 
ment of  witches  in  courts  of  justice, 
in  Scotland  and  England.  Pitcairn's 
collections  have  contributed  largely.  Sir 
Walter  has  also  given  us  his  interpre- 
tation of  most  of  the  popular  tales  of 
apparitions— assigning  most  of  them  to 
disease,  on  Hibbert's  principles,  many 
to  defective  evidence,  and  some  to  still 
more  obvious  causes — not  always  very 
satisfactorily.  To  shew  how  easily  a 
ghost,  or  the  rumour  of  one,  may  be 
laid,  he  tells  a  story  of  a  family  alarm- 
ed by  noises  in  the  night.  The  head  of 
the  family,  a  gentleman  of  birth  and 
distinction,  and  well  known  in  the  poli- 
tical world,  determined  to  discover  the 
cause  of  these  terrific  noises— he  watched 
and  heard  the  sounds — in  the  depth  and 
silence  of  the  night  they  were  truly 
awful ;  but  the  man  of  birth  and  political 
distinction  had  his  senses  about  him,  and 
at  last  traced  them  to  the  efforts  of  a 
rat  struggling  to  escape  from  an  old- 
fashioned  trap  in  which  he  had  been 
caught.  "The  circumstance  was  told  me," 
says  Sir  W.,  with  becoming  gravity,  "  by 
the  gentleman  to  whom  it  happened.*" 
But  what  had  the  rat  to  do  with  the 
previous  noises  ?  Did  he  play  the  same 
prank  every  night  ?  Towards  the  close 
of  the  volume  is  a  good  specimen  of  the 
garrulous — the  author  tells  of  his  own 
sensations,  at  two  epochs  of  his  life,  at 
nineteen  and  forty-four,  when  he  slept 
in  haunted  rooms,  but  nothing  came  of 
either,  and  it  would  be  difficult  and,  as 
the  Greeks  might  phrase  it,  not  difficult 
to  say  why  either  was  told. 

Cabinet  Cyclopaedia — History  of  France, 
Vol.  /.,  by  Eyre  Evans  Crowe. — Our  na- 
tional literature  has  long  wanted  a  con- 
densed history  of  France— not  a  mere 
sequence  of  events — but  a  survey  made 


703 


by  somebody  deserving  the  name  of  his- 
torian,  with  time  to  gather  up  opinions 
and  customs,  and  an  eye  to  mark  their 
bearings  upon  current  ages  and  after 
ages— the  bias  of  parties— the  prejudices 
or  professions— the  struggles  of  different 
orders  in  the  state— and  thus  through 
masses  of  facts  develope  the  successive 
steps  of  cultivation,  and  still  more  those 
which  checked  the  march  of  constitu- 
tional government.  Such  an  historian, 
not  to  the  very  perfection  of  beau-ideal- 
ism, but  yet  to  a  very  respectable  de- 
gree— Dr.  Lardner  has  unearthed  in  the 
person  of  a  Mr.  Eyre  Evans  Crowe. 
The  name  is  new  to  us,  but  he  is  obvi- 
ously no  novice  in  scribbling.  His 
history  of  France  is  worthy  to  figure 
with  the  works  of  his  associates,  the  best 
of  their  day — Scott  and  Mackintosh — • 
he  is  less  easy  than  the  first,  but  more 
graceful  than  the  second — he  has  not 
the  power,  perhaps,  of  ready  combining 
so  conspicuous  in  the  one,  but  shews  no 
deficiency  in  what  is  considered  the 
other's  chief  excellence — he  generalizes 
and  even  moralizes  with  quite  as  much 
effect,  if  it  be  with  less  solemnity  and  pre- 
tence. We  were  satisfied  Sir  James  was 
not  so  immensely  in  advance  of  his  age, 
as  to  the  philosophy  of  history,  that  all 
new  competitors  must  of  necessity  be 
distanced  in  the  race — Mr.  Crowe  will 
run  him  hard.  It  must  not,  however,  be 
forgotten,  he  has  had  the  full  benefit  of 
Sismondi's  able  performance. 

The  early  periods  of  the  history  Mr. 
C.  does  but  glance  at.  From  Clovis  to 
Charles  Martel  there  exists,  he  observes, 
not  a  personage  worthy  of  the  reader's 
attention  or  memory — there  is  not  re- 
corded an  event  or  an  anecdote  which 
could  excite  any  feeling  save  disgust. 
Charlemagne,  whose  reign  constitutes  the 
great  epoch  of  modern  history,  claims  a 
closer  regard ;  but  his  successors,  again, 
require  as  little  as  the  Merovingians  ;  and 
the  reigns  of  the  Capetians,  up  to  St. 
Louis,  are  described  by  Sismondi  as  one 
long  interregnum,  during  which  the  his- 
tory of  France  was  a  history,  not  of  its 
monarchs,but  of  the  nobles.  The  remark, 
however,  applies  only  to  the  first  four 
Capetians— -Louis  the  Fat,  and  his  suc- 
cessors shewed  more  activity,  and  paved 
the  way  for  the  greater  decision  of  St. 
Louis.  This  was  the  age  of  the  Crusades. 
Pilgrimages  had  been  long  in  fashion ; 
vast  numbers  visited  the  holy  sepulchre; 
they  went  in  crowds  ;  one  bishop  headed 
a  body  of  three  thousand;  another,  one 
of  six  ;  the  greater  the  assemblage  natu- 
rally the  more  they  were  liable  to  ill- 
treatment — they  began  to  excite  alarms. 
These  unarmed  expeditions,  with  the 
cruelties  exercised  upon  them  by  the 
Mahometans,  suggested  hostile  ones. 
"  The  universal  thought  of  an  age  is 
often  referred,"  says  Mr.  C.,  acutely, 


704 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[DEC. 


*'  to  the  first  bold  utterer  of  it.  To 
Peter  the  Hermit,  is  attributed  the  ho- 
nour of  the  first  crusade,"  &c. 

To  consolidate  and  legalize  the  royal 
authority,  which  Philip  Augustus  and 
his  son  had  strengthened  and  extended, 
was  the  task  of  St.  Louis,  and  his  chief 
resource  was  to  balance  the  lawyers 
against  the  nobles.  The  nobles  had 
need  of  men  of  study  and  business  to  aid 
them. 

Legists  were  thus  introduced  into  the  Parlia- 
ment, and  tliese  soon  engrossed  all  its  authority 
and  power.  They  became  almost  a  fourth  order 
in  the  state.  Raised  from  the  lower  or  middling 
classes,  they  were  jealous  of  the  aristocracy,  and 
more  so  of  the  priesthood;  and  they  laboured 
with  inveterate  diligence  to  raise  royalty,  to  which 
they  owed  their  own  elevation  and  honours,  on 
the  ruin  of  those  two  estates.  The  ensuing  hun- 
dred years  of  French  history  might  be  called  the 
age  of  lawyers,  so  universally  did  they  dominate 
and  bend  every  power  and  institution  to  their 
will.  It  was  their  teachings  and  maxims  that 
gave  to  Kings  that  divine  right  which  the  church 
at  that  time  claimed  for  itself.  That  devotion  to 
royalty,  which  in  romance  is  considered  to  be  the 
characteristic  of  the  high-born,  was  in  reality  first 
lield  and  forced  upon  them  by  the  plebeian  lawyer- 
This  profession,  which  in  later  times  has  given 
to  the  cause  of  liberty  its  ablest  advocates,  laid, 
in  the_  13th  century,  the  firmest  foundations  of 
absolute  power. 

The  princes  of  the  house  of  Valois 
are  well  known  in  English  history.  The 
throne  came  to  them  by  the  operation 
of  the  Salique  law,  then,  in  Mr.  C.'s  judg- 
ment, recently  established.  Louis  X. 
left  a  daughter,  but  Philip,  his  brother, 
succeeded,  and  was  the  first  that  so  suc- 
ceeded. This  maxim  was  by  no  means 
previously  established,  known,  or  under- 
stood. Chance,  the  mature  age  of  Phi- 
lip, the  friendless  state  of  Louis'  daugh- 
ter, together  with  the  circumstance  of 
her  mother's  infidelity,  were  the  true 
origin  of  a  rule  so  unique  and  so  impor- 
tant! The  Salique  law  was  confirmed 
by  a  decree  of  the  States  General,  which 
the  new  King  summoned  for  the  pur- 
pose. Philip  left  only  daughters.  A 
son  of  Philip  the  Fair  succeeded :  he 
died  without  children,  and  the  crown 
thus  passed  to  the  Valois  branch.  Our 
Edward's  claim  was  not,  therefore,  so 
utterly  unreasonable  as  Hume  affirms. 
Hume  is  wrong  in  stating  that  his  claim 
was  not  entertained  by  any  in  France, 
and  wrong  too  in  stating  that  the  Salique 
law  was  an  old  established  opinion. 

It  is  not  till  the  reign  of  Francis  the 
First  that  Mr.  C.'s  history  enters  much 
into  detail. 

That  period  (he  says)  may  be  called  the  frontier 
line  of  modern  history;  it  is  the  horizon  which 
bounds  our  histoiical  view  ;  all  within  it  stretch- 
ing in  continuance  up  to  the  very  present,  sepa- 
rated only  by  three  centuries — an  interval  which, 
however  great  it  may  seem  to  us,  is  in  reality  no 


very  extended  portion  of  time.  To  this  epoch  may 
be  traced  the  ditt'ereut  political  systems  and  for- 
tunes of  the  European  states.  They  had  then, 
each  of  them,  attained  their  national  limits. 
Nations,  like  men,  when  they  arrive  at  maturity 
of  growth,  seek  to  exert  their  force  externally. 
To  encroach  upon,  to  conquer,  to  reduce  their 
neighbours,  is  the  natural  impulse  of  the  many 
as  of  the  few.  Laws  and  civilization  have  re- 
strained the  frowardness  of  man  ;  it  is  to  be  hoped 
that  a  still  greater  degree  of  enlightenment  may 
yet  equally  tame  the  envious  and  ambitious  spirit 
of  nations  ;  and  that  man  in  the  aggregate  may 
at  length  be  taught  the  moral  wisdom  snd  for- 
bearance which  have  been  forced  upon  the  indi- 
vidual. 

The  extract  closes  with  a  hope,  which 
takes  the  form  of  a  moral  aphorism,  and 
one  that  is  beginning  to  be  generally 
tasted.  Mr.  Crowe's  volume  terminates 
with  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.— and  as  a 
mere  narrative  is  remarkable  for  neat- 
ness in  the  sketching  of  events ;  but  it 
has  higher  merits. 

Encyclopaedia  Britannica.     Part  VIII. 
— This  very  superior  edition  of  the  most 
popular  of  our  Encyclopaedias  continues 
to  keep  the  word  of  promise ;  it  is  true 
to  the  periods  of  publication,  and  many 
of  the  articles  shew  proof  of  the  editor's 
promptitude.     The    greater  portion  of 
the  part  before  us  is  occupied  with  Play- 
fair's  well  executed  dissertation,  and  the 
treatise  of  Algebra,   neither   of  which 
required  addition    or  correction  ;    but 
Alyiers  is  brought  up  to  the  latest  mo- 
ment, and  Allahabad  and  Almorah,  in  the 
east,  have    the  benefit  of  Heber's  re- 
marks.     Almanack    commemorates   the 
improvements  wrought  in  this  essential 
article  of  life  by  the   exertions  of  the 
Diffusion   Society,   though  we  see  not 
why  the  editor  should  adopt  the  term 
blasphemy,  which  the  society  has  chosen 
to   apply  to   Moore's   nonsense.      The 
Nautical  Almanack  is   noticed  without 
any  allusion  to  recent  occurrences.     So 
long  as  Maskelyne  superintended  it  the 
publication  might  be  safely  relied  upon 
—  it  now   smacks   of  the   indolence  of 
establishments.     It  is  notoriously  incor- 
rect.    Considerable  sums  are  expended 
on  the  calculations  ; — we  are  glad  to  see 
Sir  James  South  keeping  a  sharp  look- 
out.    In  the  Life  of  Alleyn  the  player 
and  master  of  King  James's  Bear-garden, 
and  founder  of  Dulwich  College,  is  a 
letter    containing    an    anecdote    which 
brings  together  Alleyn,  Shakspeare,  and 
Jonson.     The    letter  is   from   George 
Peale,    the   dramatist,    to    a  friend   of 
Shakspeare's.      Alleyn,    it  seems,    had 
charged   Shakspeare  with   stealing  the 
speech  to  the  players  in   Hamlet,  from 
his  occasional  conversations,  which  Shak- 
speare did  not    "  take  in   good  sorte." 
Jonson  put  an  end  to  the  strife — "  This 
affair,"  says  he,   "  needeth  no  conten- 
tion ;  you  stole  it  from  Ned,  no  doubt ; 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


705 


do  not  marvel ;  have  you  not  seen  him 
act  times  out  of  number  ?" 

By  the  way,  a  key  to  the  letters  affixed 
to  the  principal  articles  would  be  accep- 
tible  to  many ;  and  more  sofirst  than  last. 

Waverley  Novels.  Vol.  XVIII.— The 
Monastery.  Vol.  I. — The  Monastery  suc- 
ceeded Ivanhoe.  In  Ivanhoe  Sir  Wal- 
ter migrated  to  new  scenes,  and  actions, 
and  manners,  expressly  to  avoid  weary- 
ing his  readers  with  eternal  sameness, 
and  to  repel  also  the  possible  insinuation 
that  he  was  at  home  no  where  but  in 
his  own  country.  The  Monastery,  how- 
ever, placed  him  in  Scotland  again,  but 
why  or  wherefore — what  reason  or  ca- 
price impelled— the  author  himself  does 
not,  it  seems,  recollect,  and  surely,  as 
he  himself  hints,  nothing  can  well  be 
of  less  importance  —furca  expellas  na- 
turam.  Fielding,  we  remember,  in  his 
Journey  to  the  Next  World,  represents 
some  doughty  critic  consulting  Shak- 
speare  about  some  contested  passage  of  his 
— "  Iteally,"  says  the  dramatist,  "  it  is  so 
long  ago,  I  cannot  tell  myself  what  I 
meant."  The  Monastery  was  the  least 
popular  of  the  Waverley  novels.  The 
conception  of  the  White  Lady — no  fault 
could  be  found  with  the  execution — met 
with  little  sympathy.  Such  imaginary 
beings  must  be  mixed  up  with  gaiety — 
any  attempt  at  the  serious  with  them 
must  for  ever  fail  in  England.  l)e  la 
Motte  Fouque,  in  one  of  his  most  suc- 
cessful compositions,  produces  a  beau- 
tiful, and  even  an  affecting  effect  by  the 
introduction  of  a  water  nymph  who 
loses  the  privilege  of  immortality,  by 
uniting  her  lot  with  a  mortal  who  treats 
her  with  ingratitude.  The  White  Lady 
is  avowedly  an  imitation  of  this  success- 
ful attempt.  "  She  is  connected  with  the 
family  of  Avenel  by  one  of  these  mys- 
teries, which  in  ancient  times  were  sup- 
posed to  exist,  in  certain  circumstances, 
between  the  creatures  of  the  elements 
and  the  children  of  men.  Such  instances 
of  mysterious  union  are  recognized  in 
Ireland,  in  the  real  Milesian  families, 
Avho  are  possessed  of  a  Banshie;  and 
they  are  known  among  the  traditions  of 
the  Highlanders,  which,  in  many  cases, 
attached  an  immortal  being  or  spirit  to 
the  service  of  particular  families  or 
tribes."  The  confession,  or  statement 
rather,  is  made  by  the  writer  to  excul- 
pate himself  from  the  charge  of  intro- 
ducing, wantonly,  a  being  of  inconsistent 
powers  and  propensities. 

With  his  usual  good  humour  and  good 
taste  the  author  thus  winds  up  a  long 

explanation "  Still  the  Monastery, 

though  exposed  to  severe  and  just  criti- 
cism, did  not  fail,  judging  from  the 
extent  of  its  circulation,  to  have  some 
interest  for  the  public.  And  this,  too, 
was  according  to  the  ordinary  course  of 

M.M.  New  Series VoL.X.  No.  60. 


such  matters ;  for  it  very  seldom  hap- 
pens that  literary  reputation  is  gained 
by  a  single  effort,  and  still  more  rarely 
is  lost  by  a  single  miscarriage.  The 
author,  therefore,  had  his  days  of  grace 
allowed  him,  and  time,  if  he  pleased,  to 
comfort  himself  with  the  burden  of  the 
old  Scots  song, 

"  If  it  isna  weel  bobbit, 
We'll  bob  it  again." 

Maxwell,  by  the  Author  of  Sayings  and 
Doings  ;  3  vols. — N  obody  is  so  much  at 
home  as  Mr.  Theodore  Hook  in  Life  in 
London.  In  the  city — with  the  theatre 
— among  the  lawyers  and  doctors,  he  is 
in  his  proper  element.  No  novelist  of 
the  day  enters  so  thoroughly  into  the 
recesses  of  society  in  the  middle  ranks, 
and  none,  as  a  consequence,  so  skilfully 
anatomizes  their  tastes  and  feelings. 
Though  giving  the  form  of  fiction  to 
all  his  observations,  he  is  essentially  a 
dealer  in  facts,  or  in  what  assimilates 
admirably  well  with  ordinary  matters. 
He  spins  as  little  as  any  one  we  know 
from  imagination  merely.  He  only 
modifies  realities  according  to  his  taste 
for  the  production  of  effect,  which  often 
smacks  of  the  tricks  of  the  stage.  There 
is  nothing,  in  short,  in  his  pages  for 
which  he  could  not  produce  authority — 
in  real  fact,  or  in  common  report.  The 
reader  feels  from  beginning  to  end  he 
is  conversing  with  one  who  knows  the 
world,  by  the  tact,  which  nothing  but 
such  knowledge  will  give,  with  which 
he  measures  the  motives  of  action,  and 
strips  off  disguises.  He  is  no  romancer, 
and  what  is  no  slight  recommendation, 
his  tales  may  be  administered  as  infal- 
lible specifics  against  mawkish  and  mor- 
bid sentiment. 

The  tale  is  wholly  domestic — the  for- 
tunes of  Maxwell  and  his  family  — 
constructed  on  the  tantalizing  system. 
The  author's  secrets  for  producing  effect, 
are  suspenses  and  surprises.  He  has 
developed  his  tale  by  analysis,  but  we, 
if  we  sketch  it  at  all,  must  reverse  the 
scheme,  and  proceed  synthetically,  or 
we  shall  never  bring  the  sketch  within 
our  straitened  limits.  We  must  explode 
the  grand  mystery  of  the  tale  at  once. 
Maxwell  is  a  surgeon  of  eminence,  in 
full  practice — a  lecturer  on  anatomy 
also,  with  a  school  at  the  back  of  his 
premises,  as  Joshua  Brookes  used  to 
have  in  Marlborough-street.  One  even- 
ing a  body  was  brought,  as  usual,  by 
some  of  the  minions  of  the  moon ;  it 
was  not  dead,  and  Maxwell  recognised 
it  as  the  body  of  a  gentleman,  a  mer- 
chant of  respectability,  who  had  been 
executed  that  morning  for  shooting  his 
partner.  Great  sympathy  had  been 
excited  in  his  favour,  and  Maxwell 
especially,  believed  him  innocent ;  but 
the  evidence,  though  wholly  circum- 
4  U 


706 


Monthly  Review  of  Literature, 


[DEC. 


stantial,  seemed  irrefragable,  anil  he 
was  hanged.  How  he  came  into  the 
hands  of  body-snatchers  is  not  so  clear. 
No  matter— Maxwell  resolved  to  save 
him — with  a  full  sense  of  the  peril  he 
incurred,  and  the  difficulty  of  secreting 
the  unhappy  man.  He  accomplished 
the  hazardous  attempt ;  but  not  without 
involving  himself  in  a  good  deal  of  per- 
plexity,  and  subjecting  himself  to  un- 
comfortable surmises  with  his  family — 
especially  from  his  midnight  visits,  and 
from  occasional  intercourse  with  the 
gentleman's  daughter— a  most  beautiful 
girl,  whom  his  son  accidentally  came  in 
contact  with,  fell  desperately  in  love, 
and  all  but  discovered.  Finally,  both 
father  and  daughter  are  shipped  off 
safely  for  one  of  the  Azores.  Maxwell 
will  make  neither  of  his  own  children 
confidants.  Though  a  most  indulgent 
parent — as  most  parents  are,  so  long  as 
they  are  unopposed — he  was  despotic 
upon  points.  His  daughter  had  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  resuscitated  patient, 
and  was  bound  by  her  father  to  eternal 
silence.  The  son  was  peremptorily 
commanded  to  desist  from  farther 
pursuit  of  the  lady,  as  one,  without 
an  explanatory  word,  who  must  bring 
disgrace  upon  himself  and  ruin  upon  his 
family.  His  daughter,  a  very  charming 
and  intelligent  girl,  had  early  given  her 
affections  to  a  very  handsome  youth,  of 
whom  Maxwell,  a  Scotchman,  and  as 
proud  as  a  Highlander,  disapproved,  on 
the  ground  of  his  mother's  illegitimacy. 
He  contrived  to  pack  him  off  to  India 
cut  off  all  correspondence,  and  by  falla- 
cious statements,  finally  induced  her  to 
accept  for  a  husband  his  own  broker, 
who  had  gained  an  ascendancy  over  him, 
and  involved  his  whole  property  in  the 
share  bubbles  of  the  day.  Though  a  coarse 
fellow,  the  young  lady,  after  many  de- 
lays, marries  him,  in  compliance  with 
her  father's  importunity,  and  thinking 
that  though  he  was  unlicked  and  uncon- 
genial, he  was  honest,  and  she  might  be 
comfortable,  if  not  happy. 

The  marriage  took  place,  and  never 
was  honey-moon  more  suddenly  eclipsed. 
The  bridal  party  go  to  Brighton,  and 
the  very  next  day  an  Indiarnan  lands 
Somerford,  her  old  lover,  whom  she 
had  been  told  was  dead,  before  her  own 
eyes.  He  had  returned  with  a  full 
purse,  and  a  full  purpose  of  marrying 
the  fond  object  of  his  early  affections. 
An  explanation  follows,  and  in  the  agi- 
tations which  ensue,  comes  alarming 
news  from  the  city.  The  broker  hastens 
to  London  ;  the  case  is  desperate  ;  all  is 
lost,  and  Maxwell  with  his  son  and 
daughter  fly  to  the  Madeiras,  to  escape 
his  creditors.  The  broker  driven  to 
his  last  shifts,  commits  an  act  of  forgery, 
and  is  also  forced  to  fly.  At  the  Ma- 
deiras, Maxwell  and  his  family  are 


warmlv  and  hospitably  welcomed  by  the 
son  of  the  man  he  had  restored  to  life. 
Filled  with  grateful  feelings,  he  takes  a 
deep  interest  in  Maxwells  fortunes — 
gives  Maxwell's  son  half  his  business, 
and  proceeds  himself  to  London  to  in- 
quire into  the  actual  state  of  his  affairs. 
They  prove  to  be  not  so  bad  as  the 
broker  had  represented  them — he  had 
not,  in  fact,  been  able  to  complete  his 
villanous  intentions.  While  gathering 
the  wreck  of  Maxwell's  fortunes,  the 
young  man  discovers  his  father's  clerk 
under  sentence  of  death  for  forgery — 
he  confesses  to  the  murder  for  which  his 
master  had  been  executed,  and  the 
honour  of  the  family  is  thus  restored. 
Somerford,  in  the  meanwhile,  seeking 
some  relief  for  his  disappointments, 
withdrew  to  Cheltenham,  where  he  fell 
in  with  a  nobleman,  who  turned  out  to 
be  his  grandfather — the  legitimate  father 
of  his  supposed  illegitimate  mother. 
Somerford  succeeds  to  the  title  and 
estates.  While  driving  to  a  villa  of  his 
at  Richmond,  he  encounters  the  Max- 
wells, on  the  road  towards  town — the 
young  lady  is  in  mourning — she  had  just 
heard  of  the  death  of  the  worthless 
broker — her  husband  of  a  day — the  wi- 
dow, of  course,  becomes  my  lady,  and 
is  repaid  for  all  her  sufferings  ;  and  old 
Maxwell,  of  course,  too,  no  longer  op- 
poses his  son's  union  with  the  lovely 
daughter  of  the  resuscitated  merchant 
— whose  honour  is  proved  to  have  been 
unsullied. 

A  friend  of  Maxwell — a  Dr.  Moss,  a 
singular  mixture  of  coarseness  and  acute- 
ness— of  real  or  affected  cynicism,  and 
undoubted  good  feeling,  is,  it  must  be 
supposed,  a  portrait — nobody  ever  ima- 
gines such  eccentricities. 

Tlie  Bereaved — Kenilworth,  §c.  by  the 
Rev.  E.  Whitfield.  —  A  very  sweet  and 
gentle  tone  of  sentiment  pervades  this 
little  tale.  Though  the  poetry  exhibits 
no  fertility  of  fancy,  it  is  full  of  deep 
feeling — if  plaintive  it  is  not  sickly,  and 
the  melancholy  has  always  the  ratio  suf- 
ficiens.  The  story  is  told  gracefully, 
and  the  versification  is  easy  and  melo- 
dious. The  Bereaved  loses  a  beautiful 
wife  while  yet  in  the  bloom  of  youth. 
She  leaves  behind  an  infant  child,  the 
recollection  of  which  first  lifts  him  from 
the  depths  of  despair,  when  it  seemed 
relief  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 

'Twas  found— convulsive  heaved  the  breast, 
To  which  the  lovely  babe  was  prest — 
Sudden  it  stretched  its  little  hands, 
As  if  to  clasp  in  such  weak  bands 
A  father's  neck  ;  the  artless  child, 
Then,  like  a  cherub,  sweetly  smiled  : — 
Enough— o'er  all  his  trembling  frame 
The  feelings  of  the  father  came  ; 
Shone  in  her  face  his  sainted  wife, 
Spake  in  that  smile,  and  waked  to  life 


1830.] 


Domestic  and  Foreign. 


707 


Affection's  current ;  all !  what  force 

Resistless  urges  on  its  course! 

Moved — melted  by  the  thought  that  she, 

Who  loved  so  true — so  tenderly, 

Asked  for  her  babe  liis  fond  caress, 

Bade  him  its  infant  life  to  bless, 

And  prayed  that  it  might  ever  prove 

A  fond  memento  of  her  love, 

He  wished  to  live,  the  watch  to  be, 

Over  his  young  child's  destiny; 

In  startling  peril  a  defence — 

The  safeguard  of  her  innocence ; 

He  hoped  in  her  fair  form  to  trace 

His  Anna's  sweetness,  Anna's  grace  ; 

And,  in  that  casket  see  enshrined 

The  jewels  of  his  Anna's  mind. 

The  child  grew  up  all  the  fond  parent 

could  wish the  image  of  her  mother  ; 

— she  had  cheered  his  loneliness,  and 
her  education  had  given  an  interest  to 
life — when  she  too  was  torn  from  him, 
bv  the  same  ruthless  disease,  which, 
from  the  climate  of  England,  or  the 
over-coddling  of  the  higher  classes — de- 
clines are  not  so  prevalent  among  the 


poorer— sweeps  away  the  more  delicate 
and  beautiful  portion  of  the  sex. 

Brilliant  the  glances  of  her  eye, 

And  fresh  the  roses  on  her  cheek, — 
Ah!  what  foretold  this  brilliancy? 

What  did  the  mantling  colour  speak? 
They  told  of  early  change — decay — 
Of  sudden  flight  from  earth  away — 
Of  union  with  the  angelic  throngs, 
To  whom  such  loveliness  belongs  ! 
And  thus  it  was,  her  wasting  frame 
Confessed  the  insidious  fever's  flame. 
Her  father  marked  the  change  ;  dismayed 
He  called  on  man,  on  Heaven  for  aid  ; 
But  vain  the  skill,  and  vain  the  care, 
Vain  was  the  wish — the  impassioned  prayer; 
As  the  rich  flower  in  fragrance  bathed, 
By  the  terrific  lightning  scathed, 
Blighted  reclines  its  dying  head, 
And  prostrate  falls  on  earth's  dark  bed  ; — 
She  drooped — she  pined — till  at  the  last, 
Over  her  pallid  features  past 
A  sacred  smile,  and  she  was  gone — 
Mysterious  Heaven  claimed  its  own! 


FINE  ARTS'  PUBLICATIONS, 


ANNUALS. 

Distinguished  by  superior  size — and 
price — stands  the  Keepsake.  The  beauty 
of  most  of  the  other  annuals  are  but 
mere  flowers  compared  with  the  gem- 
like  pretensions  of  this ;  yet  we  must 
confess  it  is  by  no  means  so  brilliant  as 
it  might  be,  and  is  altogether  far  less  to 
our  taste  than  many  or  its  competitors 
of  an  humbler  class.  We  should  not 
"  justly  place  the  gem  above  the  flower" 
in  this  instance. 

The  frontispiece — Haidee,  Eastlake, 
and  C.  Heath— gleams  upon  us  like  a 
syren,  and  lures  us  to  look  further  ;  it 
is  like  a  lamp  lighting  us  to  a  shrine  of 
beauty.  The  vignette  on  the  title  page 
has  a  pretty  effect,  but  the  figures  are 
strangely  ill- drawn  ;  Flaxman  never 
originated  such  singularities.  The  Gon- 
dola, F.  P.  Stephanoff,  and  C.  Heath, 
is  superbly  engraved,  but  meretricious 
in  sentiment.  Miss  Sharpe's  Juliet  has 
lost  little  of  its  lustre  in  this  engraving  ; 
it  is  by  J,  C.  Edwards.  Another  bril- 
liant production  by  Heath  is  Mima, 
from  a  drawing  by  Cristale.  The  Use 
of  Tears,  by  Bonnington  and  C.  Holls, 
is  a  beautiful  subject,  richly,  yet  some- 
what coarsely  engraved.  *  The  Swiss 
Peasant,  H.  Howard  and  C.  Heath,  is 
most  delicately  finished  ;  it  is  succeeded 
by  scenes  far  different  yet  almost  as 
fair;  Sea-Shore,  Cornwall — Bonnington 
and  Miller ;  and  Adelaide,  somewhat 
elaborate  and  affected,  by  Chalon  and 
Heath.  Saumur,  by  Turner  and  II. 
Wallis,  is  irresistible  in  its  light  and 
shadow,  and  furnishes  food  for  a  whole 
morning's  contemplation.  Milan  Ca- 


thedral, Prout  and  W.  Wallis,  is  its 
equal  of  an  opposite  kind.  Another  of 
Turner's,  engraved  by  Willmore,  suc- 
ceeds— Nantes,  varied  and  picturesque, 
gleaming  through  a  transparent  mist. 
There  are  others — one  or  two  being 
scarcely  inferior  to  those  we  have  nam- 
ed. Of  the  literary  contents,  one  of  the 
best  pages  is  the  list  of  the  contributors, 
which  almost  rivals  "  Burke's  Peerage," 
— it  is  alarmingly  aristocratic  —  Lady 
Blessington,  Lord  Morpeth,  Lord  Por- 
chester,  Lord  Nugent,  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell, and  Honourables  without  number. 
We  have  read  their  several  productions 
with  the  greatest  solemnity  and  respect, 
and  have  been  internally  amused  where 
amusement  perhaps  was  never  contem- 
plated. There  are  about  three  clever 
things  in  the  volume — the  "Moral 
Song"  by  the  editor  certainly  not  being 
one  of  them.  We  do  not  recollect  to 
have  seen  such  a  specimen  lately — we 
wish  we  could  extract  it,  as  a  sample  of 
editorial  taste.  After  the  classic  motto, 
Vanitas  vanitatum,  &c.,  it  commences — 

Though  from  certain  crimes  exempt, 
Don't  indulge  in  those  that  tempt; 
True  no  doubt  you  spill  no  blood — 
You're  not,  therefore,  very  good  : 
Those  who,  blessed  with  fortune,  can't 
Feel  the  cruel  power  of  want, 
Cannot  even  in  this  day 
Even  wish  to  rob  or  slay  : 
Vaunt  not  then  that  you're  exempt 
From  the  crimes  that  do  not  tempt. 

We  have  intimated  that  these  lines 
are  written  by  the  Editor  of  the  Keep- 
sake :  we  have  done  him  an  injustice — 
4  IT  2 


708 


Fine  Arts'  Publications. 


[DEC. 


we  have  not  given  his  name.     It  is  F. 
Mansel  Reynolds. 

To  prevent  any  disappointment  that 
might  arise  from  a  scarcity  of  English 
Annuals  this  year,  destiny 'has  provided 
us  with  a  French  one,  a  counterpart  of 
the  Keepsake,  to  be  entitled  Le  Keep- 
sake Francois^  and  has  here  sent  us 
eighteen  very  seductive  engravings — 
very  brilliant  and  eloquent  apologies  for 
the  introduction  of  an  additional  volume 
per  annum.  These  embellishments  are 
principally  executed  by  English  en- 
gravers from  pictures  by  French  artists  ; 
so  that  this  production  will  present  a 
union  of  art  which  it  is  presumed  may 
be  interesting  to  its  admirers  in  both 
countries.  Dieppe,  by  Harding  and  W. 
II.  Smith,  is  full  of  pleasing  effect, 
which  might  have  been  heightened.  The 
Ass  and  the  Reliques,  Xavier  le  Prince, 
and  G.  Corbould,  is  beautiful  in  spite  of 
the  artificial  air  that  distinguishes  it. 
We  are  pleased  to  see,  in  the^portrait  of 
the  Queen  of  the  French,  by  Hersent 
and  Thomson,  the  countenance  of  a 
gentle,  elegant,  and  intelligent  woman. 
The  Lake  of  Como  is  more  affected  than 
Stanfield's  compositions  generally.  The 
correctness  of  the  perspective  as  re- 
gards the  ^figures  is  questionable.  It 
is  atoned  for  by  the  succeeding  print — 
Lawrence's  exquisite  portrait'  of  Miss 
Croker,  as  exquisitely  handled  by  Thom- 
son. A  different  order  of  beauty  fol- 
lows, Barnard  Castle,  in  which  Willmore 
has  well  embodied  the  soft  rich  depth  of 
Turner's  pencil.  Curiosity,  by  Roque- 
plan  and  Humphrys,  is  a  light  and 
graceful  group.  Don  Quixote,  by  Bon- 
nington  and  Sangster,  is  far  from  coming 
up  to  our  imaginative  portrait ;  it  is  too 
hard — the  leg  looks  as  impenetrable  as 
the  armour.  Cromwell  and  his  daughter, 
Decaisne,  and  E.  Smith,  is  bold,  rich, 
and  animated.  The  Young  Widow, 
Ilochard,  and  E.  Graves,  is  arch,  ani- 
mated, and  beautiful, — the  eyes  are  most 
satirically  swollen  :  it  is  a  curious  com- 
position—forcibly contrasted  with  the 
Chevalier  de  Lauzun,  and  Madame  de 
Montpensier,  E.  Deveria,  and  F.  Bacon, 
the  personification  of  fashion  and  forma- 
lity—yet, withal,  beautiful.  There  are 
six  or  seven  more — one  or  two  equal  to 
those  we  have  named— and  all  to  be  in 
one  volume,  so  that  we  need  not  say  it 
will  be  a  rich  one.  By  the  way,  we  had 
almost  forgotten  to  observe,  that  these 
engravings  are  also  to  illustrate  an  Eng- 
lish work,  the  Talisman,  edited  by  Mrs. 
A.  Watts,  which  will  consist  of  scattered 
beauties,  with  a  few  originals  ;  and  of 
which  we  augur  well  from  the  editor's 
assuraiice,  that  she  will  be  guided  not 
by  u  distinguished  names"  alone,  but  by 
"  the  intrinsic  merits  of  the  articles." 
We  have  no  fear  that  "the  lady  doth 
protest  too  much  ;"  we  wish  certain 


elderly  editors  of  the  same  sex  would 
follow  her  example. 

The  Amulet,  hitherto  distinguished  for 
its  fervid  sentiment,  pure  precepts,  and 
moral  feeling,  merits  an  especial  wel- 
come. The  character  of  the  present 
volume  will  recommend  it  universally 
— to  the  admirer  of  art  for  the  increased 
beauty  of  its  embellishments ;  to  the 
grave,  for  its  refined  moral  touches  ;  and 
to  the  gay,  for  its  light,  delicate,  and 
agreeable  variety.  It  is  a  book  for  all 
moods — for  summer  as  well  as  winter. 
The  frontispiece  is  the  finest  flower  in 
its  wreath — if  we  say,  the  finest  in  the 
entire  range  of  this  year's  culture  of  the 
annuals,  we  shall  not  exceed  the  truth. 
The  subject  is  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence's 
magnificent  picture  of  the  Countess 
Gower ;  and  to  this  Mr.  Finden  has 
done  entire  justice;  it  is  rich,  deep,  and 
brilliant.  A  single  glance  at  the  Resur- 
rection will  identify  it  as  an  effort — and 
a  fine  one — of  Martin's  ;  it  is  engraved 
by  H.  Wallis.  It  is  a  relief  after  this 
to  look  at  The  Orphans,  by  J.  Wood 
and  C.  Rolls  —  a  very  touching  and 
graceful  composition,  conceived  in  the 
true  feeling.  Cromwell  at  Marston 
Moor,  by  A.  Cooper,  from  a  drawing 
by  an  unknown  artist,  and  engraved  by 
Greatback,  is  all  strife  and  spirit ;  Crom- 
well is  alive,  and  the  horses  are  fear- 
fully animated.  The  Florentine,  by 
Pickersgill  and  Edward  Finden,  is  of 
a  high  character ;  the  boldness  of  this 
contrasts  with  the  simple  beauty  and 
purity  of  expression  of  the  Village 
Queen,  by  J.  Boaden  and  C.  Marr. 
Sunset  is  one  of  Barratt's  best — it  has 
all  the  warmth  of  colouring.  Florence, 
by  Turner  and  Goodall  follows  it.  But 
we  must  stop,  and  take  a  glance  at  the 
literature.  The  Tempter,  answering  to 
its  title,  attracts  us  first ;  it  is  the  story 
of  Ayoub  the  Mighty,  an  Arabian  le- 
gend full  of  moral  power,  eloquence,  and 
imagination.  Dr.  Walsh's  Irish  Le- 
gends and  Traditions  are  highly  curious 
and  amusing — but  they  must  not  delav 
us  from  a  delightful  little  sketch  by 
James  Montgomery,  Home,  Country, 
all  the  World.  The  Indian  Mother,  by 
Mrs.  Jameson,  and  Eastern  Story  Tel- 
lers, by  Mr.  Carne,  are  among  the  best 
articles  in  this  year's  annuals.  Miss 
.Tewsbury's  History  of  a  Trifler  is  most 
pleasantly  written ;  and  the  Roman 
Merchant,  by  Mr.  Banim,  is  one  of  his 
happiest  sketches  ;  to  our  extreme  satis- 
faction it  is  not  too  intense.  But  we 
come  to  The  Dispensation,  by  Mrs. 
Hall,  the  crown  and  charm  of  the  vo- 
lume. This  equals  Mrs.  Hall's  best — 
we  are  sensible  of  the  compliment  con- 
veyed, but  we  cannot  diminish  it  by  a 
word.  The  characters  are  finely  drawn 
and  finely  grouped— the  incidents  at 
once  romantic  and  natural.  Imagina- 


1830.] 


Fine  Arts'  Publications. 


700 


tion  is  evermore  checked  by  a  sense  of 
what  is  due  to  the  harmony  of  nature — 
to  which  Mrs.  Hall's  sketches  are  always 
singularly  faithful.  We  have  scarcely 
a  niche  left  for  the  poetry — there  is 
much  that  we  could  wish  to  quote,  by 
Airs.  Norton,  Mr.  Kennedy,  James 
Hogg,  Miss  Landon,  and  Miss  Bowles. 
We  are  almost  grieved  at  the  impossibi- 
lity of  evincing  our  admiration  of  the 
Poor  Man's  Death  Bed,  by  the  last  named 
lady,  by  quoting  it.  We  have  copied 
it  into  the  album  of  our  memory,  as  some 
atonement,  and  shall  cherish 'its  recol- 
lection. In  closing  this  beautiful  vo- 
lume, we  must  beg  to  assure  its  editor 
that  in  no  part  of  it  has  he  better  shewn 
the  purity  of  his  taste  than  in  his  pre- 
face. It  is  by  far  the  most  eloquent 
that  we  ever  read — for  it  contains  but 
ten  lines. 

Contrasted  with  the  gaiety  of  its  an- 
nual companions  comes  the  gravity  of 
the  Iris.  In  point  of  embellishments  it 
may  rank  with  the  best.  The  frontis- 
piece, Christ  blessing  little  Children 
splendidly  engraved  by  J.  W.  Cooke, 
is  one  of  West's  best  compositions  ;  and 
the  title-page  is  adorned  with  a  head  of 
the  Saviour,  by  Lawrence,  distinguished 
by  a  meek  and  touching  expression,  but 
not  elevated  in  character.  It  is  the 
beautiful  rather  than  the  sublime.  Then 
follows  St.  John  the  Evangelist  (Domi- 
nichino),  by  W.  Finden— Nathan  and 
David  ( West),  by  S.  Sangster— the  Na- 
tivity (Reynolds),  by  A..  W.  Warren,  a 
lovely  little  picture  —  Madonna  and 
Child  (Correggio),  by  A.  Fox,  in  which 
the  engraver  has  shewn  more  taste  than 
the  painter — the  Deluge  (N.  Poussin), 
by  E.  Roberts  —  Christ  blessing  the 
Bread  (Carlo  Dolci),  by  W.  Ensom — 
Infant  St.  John  and  Lamb  (Murillo), 
by  Davenport  —  Judas  returning  the 
thirty  pieces  (llembrandt),  by  W.  Rad- 
don,  very  rich  and  llembrandt-like — and 
Jesus  with  Mary  in  the  Garden  (Titian), 
y  W.  Ensom,  in  which  the  tone  and  co- 
louring  of  Titian  are  as  distinct  as  the 
graver  can  render  them.  If  great  names 
are  worth  any  thing,  this  list  is  a  golden 
catalogue ;  nor  will  the  expectations 
which  it  conjures  up  be  disappointed. 
We  are  glad  to  see  the  old  beauties  of 
the  art  in  this  new  and  splendid  attire 
— to  see  the  gigantic  creations  of  the 
great  masters  brought  before  us  in  mi- 
niature. The  literature  is  too  sombre 
for  our  taste  ;  yet  its  piety  should  pro- 
tect it  from  being  pronounced  dull.  All 
lighter  matter  is  not  excluded  from  it. 
The  Curse  of  Property,  by  Mrs.  S.  C. 
Hall,  is  as  fresh  and  clear  as  a  spring  in 
the  desert ;  and  Miss  Porter's  Sketch 
of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  is  an  offering  wor- 
thy of  the  poet  of  prose-writers.  The 
poems  by  the  editor  may  lay  claim  to 
the  merit  of  being  graceful  compositions, 


and  display  taste,  if  they  are  deficient 
in  the  higher  poetical  essentials — power 
and  imagination.  They  seldom  rise  into 
the  full  beauty  of  their  subjects.  The 
poet  who  treats  of  such  matters  as  Mr. 
Dale  has  selected,  should  possess  a 
fancy  that  can  "  play  i'  the  plighted 
clouds :"  he  should  at  once,  to  adopt  Haz- 
litt's  description  of  Coleridge,  "  enter 
into  his  subject,  like  an  eagle  dallying 
with  the  wind." 

Of  the  illustrations  of  Mr.  Watts' 
Souvenir,  we  have  already  expressed  our 
opinion.  Coming  before  us  as  they  now 
do,  with  all  the  accessories  of  clear  type, 
gold  edges,  and  splendid  binding,  we  are 
inclined  to  like  them  rather  better  than 
at  first.  In  the  insinuating  garb  of 
such  a  volume  as  this,  blemishes  them- 
selves take  the  semblance  of  beauties. 
The  Lady  Agar  Ellis*)  the  Narrative,  and 
the  Trojan  Fugitives,  are  gems  like 
those  of  the  Irish  Maiden,  "rich  and 
rare."  The  author  of '-  Lillian"  is  fore- 
most on  the  list  of  contributors.  In  his 
Legend  of  the  Haunted  Tree  there  are 
many  wild  notes  of  genuine  poetry  ;  and 
his  Belle  of  the  Ball  Room  is  superior 
both  in  idea  and  execution  to  any  thing 
of  the  kind  that  has  lately  appeared. 
Lady  Olivia's  Decamerone  is  pleasant 
as  far  as  it  goes,  but  it  is  a  mere  frag- 
ment of  the  fun  we  anticipated.  Mr. 
St.  John's  Palace  of  the  Rajah  Hur- 
chund  is  glowing  and  oriental.  We 
admit  the  moral,  though  we  cannot  find 
the  music,  of  the  ballad  of  the  Three 
Guests,  by  Mary  Howitt;  poems  of  this 
class  should  be  first-rate,  or  they  are 
nothing.  The  Smuggler's  Last  Trip, 
though  it  presents  no  new  feature  to 
distinguish  it  from  a  thousand  of  its 
class,  touches  the  true  key,  and  awakens 
interest.  In  the  lines  on  the  frontis- 
piece, the  Mother  and  Child,  Mr.  Her- 
vey  has  availed  himself  of  the  full 
license  of  poetry,  in  making  very  wide 
circles  round  his  subject — now  and  then 
losing  sight  of  it  altogether  ;  there  is  too 
much  gloom  and  too  little  grace  in  it  to 
serve  as  a  comment  upon  the  lustre  of 
Laurence.  We  like  the  Last  of  the 
Titans,  by  Wm.  Howitt ;  arid  the  Toor- 
koman's  Tale  (there  are  too  many  of 
these  tales)  by  the  author  of  the  "  Kuz- 
zilbash."  Much  might  be  said,  had  we 
space,  for  Woman's  Wit,  Love-Breezes, 
by  Miss  Jewsbury,  and  the  Last  of  his 
Tribe.  We  were  excited  by  the  ani- 
mated account  of  the  Bull  Fight,  by  the 
author  of  the  "  Castilian  ;"  and  in- 
terested in  the  deepest  sense  by  the 
History  of  Sarah  Curren — who  would 
have  been  entitled  to  our  regard  inde- 
pendent of  the  song  of  Moore's  in  which 
her  memory  is  embalmed.  We  cannot 
particularize  all  the  poetry  that  has 
pleased  us.  Miss  Landon,  Miss  Bowles, 
and  Mrs.  Watts 'have  contributed  richly 


710 


Fine  Arts'  Publications. 


[DEC. 


to  it ;  two  pieces  by  the  editor  are  also 
to  be  seen  glittering  among  the  gems  of 
the  volume. 

Another  young  candidate,  the  New 
Year's  Gift,  edited  by  Mrs.  Alaric 
Watts,  invites  us  to  glance  at  its  pre- 
tensions. We  open  it  with  timid  ringers, 
for  we  fear  to  leave  a  stain  upon  its  deli- 
cacy. It  commences  with  the  Wooden 
Leg,  engraved  by  Chevalier,  from  a  pic- 
ture by  Farrier.  It  is  full  of  that 
artist's  quaint  humour,  and  makes  the 
frontispiece  really  fascinating.  The 
Boat-Launch,  M.  Guet  and  W7  Rivers, 
is  a  pleasing  group,  but  the  little  nau- 
ticals  do  not  seem  interested  in  their 
sport.  The  Little  Savoyards,  Edmon- 
stone  and  Greatbach,  is  much  better : 
the  figures  are  well  relieved ;  the  ex- 
pression of  the  young  musicians,  quite 
foreign  and  characteristic,  is  properly 
contrasted  with  the  infant  who  is 
rewarding  their  melody.  An  Indian 
Scene,  by  Wm.  Westall,  though  a  beau- 
tiful design,  looks  somewhat  faded.  A 
Soldier's  Widow  is  a  clever  engraving, 
by  Baker ;  considering  her  height,  how- 
ever, she  should  have  been  called  the 
Grenadier's  Widow.  The  Sanctuary, 
by  11.  Westall  and  Rolls,  is  an  effective 
composition,  and  forms  an  interesting 
termination  to  the  list  of  embellishments, 
which,  with  slight  exceptions,  are  worthy 
of  a  high  rank  in  this  class  of  the  an- 
nuals. The  editor  observes  in  her  pre- 
face, that  "  those  who  cater  for  the 
amusement  or  instruction  of  the  juve- 
nile public  must  be  content  to  sacrifice 
all  ambitious  notions  of  authorship  ;  and 
to  study  rather  todevelope  the  intellects 
of  their  readers  than  to  display  their 
own."  Some  of  the  contributors  to  the 
New  Year's  Gift  have  done  both  ;  it 
contains  many  pleasing  papers — such  as 
Tonina,  by  Mr.  M'Farlane— the  Bro- 
ken Vase,  the  Cock,  the  Fox  and  the 
Farm-Yard  Dog,  by  Cornelius  Webbe 
— the  Jungle,  by  Miss  Roberts — Con- 
stantine  and  Giovanni — and  a  very  neat 
little  Sketch -How  Disagreeable!  Of 
the  poetry  we  prefer  Miss  Jewsbury's 
Far,  far  from  Home,  and  some  clever 
stanzas,  illustrating  the  Soldier's  Wi- 
dow, by  N.  P.  Willis — which  have,  it 
appears,  been  published  before 

The  Comic  Offering,  or  Lady's  Melange 
of  lAlcrary  Mirth. — Here  is  a  new  comic 
offering,  the  production  of  a  lady — 
Louisa  Henrietta  Sheridan.  A  better 
name  than  Sheridan  could  scarcely  have 
been  associated  with  such  a  book — the 
"  Louisa  Henrietta"  could  have  been 
dispensed  with.  Such  elegant  vulgari- 
ties as  we  find  here  are  not  fit  themes 
for  ladies,  who  can  seldom  be  very  deli- 
cate and  very  droll  at  the  same  time. 
Of  the  numerous  subjects  of  merriment 
in  this  rich  and  tasteful  looking  volume, 
many  are  decidedly  unladylike,  and  some 


positively  vulgar.  This,  which  must 
be  regarded  as  a  conspicuous  blemish 
upon  its  beauty,  is  the  more  remarkable 
from  the  note  of  refinement  with  which 
Miss  Sheridan  commences  her  perform- 
ance. Her  work,  she  says,  is  expresslv 
intended  for  "  female  perusal ;"  Mr. 
Hood  may  say  the  same  thing.  The 
lady's  subjects  are  as  little  circum- 
scribed, and  her  humour  takes  as  many 
licences.  Her  annual,  in  short,  except 
as  regards  originality — an  important  item 
in  works  of  this  class — is  an  exact  coun- 
terpart of  that  by  the  author  of  "  Whims 
and  Oddities ;"  and  we  see  no  reason, 
therefore,  why  sire  should  ask  in  her 
prospectus — "  Shall  a  clown  be  admitted 
to  the  drawing-room,  or  pantaloon  enter 
the  boudoir  ?" — and  still  less,  why  she 
should  answer  it  by  saying — "  No,  not 
even  under  a  Hood."  One  thing  the 
lady  and  gentleman  seem  to  share 
in  common — a  propensity  to  confound 
the  painful  with  the  pleasurable,  to  look 
for  the  elements  of  mirth  in  the  dis- 
agreeable and  the  afflicting.  One  of  the 
polished  pleasantries  of  this  volume  is 
called  "  A  Beam  on  the  Face" — the 
head  of  an  unfortunate  fish- woman  com- 
ing in  contact  with  a  plank  borne  on  the 
shoulder  of  a  passenger.  Now  we  can- 
not see  why  fish-women,  more  than 
clowns,  should  be  admitted  into  bou- 
doirs ;  in  addition  to  which,  fish-women 
are,  we  presume,  females ;  and  we  per- 
ceive, therefore,  not  the  slightest  drol- 
lery in  fracturing  their  skulls  for  the 
sake  of  a  poor  pun.  There  are  two  or 
three  jokes  the  humour  of  which  con- 
sists in  people  falling  into  wells — this 
is  for  the  sake  of  saying,  *'  Let  well 
alone  !" — and  another  called  "  Going  it 
in  high  style,"  represents  two  ladies 
tumbling  over  a  stile  into  a  pond,  a 
mishap  which  seems  to  be  a  source  of 
amusement  to  two  gentlemen  who  are 
peeping  over  the  pales.  The  book  is 
full  of  these  delicate  jocularities  — 
things,  be  it  understood,  which  we  chief- 
ly stop  to  cavil  at,  because  they  are  the 
ideas  of  a  lady  who  pronounces  herself 
"  best  qualified  to  decide  on  the  strict 
boundaries  of  delicacy  and  refinement." 
An  allusion  is  made  in  the  preface  to 
her  "  own  feelings,"  her  "  youth  and 
sex ;"  which  she  hopes  will  "  point  out 
the  proper  course  to  pursue  ;"  these  we 
should  regard  as  satisfactory  apologies 
for  a  want  of  wit  and  talent,  but  they 
form  the  very  reasons  why  we  think  the 
"  course"  Miss  Sheridan  has  pursued 
any  thing  but  a  graceful  one.  What 
would  be  a  mere  speck  in  Mr.  Hood  is  a 
blot  in  a  lady.  We  should  have  regarded 
such  little  freedoms  as  those  we  have 
noticed  as  perfectly  innocent  in  anv 
other  writer;  but  they  certainly  indi- 
cate bad  taste  in  a  lady  who  writes  a 
chapter  upon  refinement,  and  finds  fault 


1830.] 


Fine  Arts  Publications. 


711 


with  people  as  pure,  it  seems,  as  her- 
self. We  select  a  specimen  of  refine- 
ment from  the  "  Miscellaneous  Mise- 
ries." 

Sigh  XIV.  Playing  in  concert  on  the  Conti- 
nent, when  you  arc  not  eminently  gifted  by  nature 
with  a  predilection  in  favour  of  garlic  ;  a  grand 
flute  player  stationed  at  your  elbow,  with  the 
open  end  of  his  flute  close  to  your  happy  nose. 

Among  the  cleverest  things  in  the 
volume  are  the  Chart  of  Celibacy  — 
Large  Development  of  the  Musical 
Organs  —  Ball-Firing  (very  laughable, 
but  certainly  unladylike)— and  the  East 
India  Company,  a  gentleman  receiving 
visits  from  every  inhabitant  of  the  East : 
an  elephant  entering  by  the  door,  a 
tiger  by  the  window,  and  a  boa  writhing 
gracefully  round  him.  The  last  embel- 
lishment— a  livery-servant,  prodigiously 
bow-legged,  saying,  "  Will  you  walk 
this  way,  Sir  ?" — is  also  excellent.  In 
the  literary  department,  Itural  Felicity, 
Married  or  Single,  and  Single  and  Mar- 
ried, are  by  far  the  most  conspicuous  in 
merit.  Much — most,  we  should  say, 
of  the  poetry  is  despicable;  and  for 
the  puns — but  they  are  too  preposterous 
even  for  puns.  A  few  of  them,  how- 
ever, are  extravagantly  comical.  Tak- 
ing the  annual  as  it  stands,  it  is  a 
singular  compound  of  cleverness  and 
pretension. 

The  Gardens  and  Menagerie  of  the  Zoo- 
logical Society  Delineated ;  Quadrupeds, 
Vol.  I.  —  We  must  regard  this  work, 
published  with  the  sanction  of  the  So- 
ciety, and  superintended  by  the  secre- 
tary and  vice-secretary,  as  a  substitute 
for  Transactions — and  a  very  pleasant 
substitute  it  is.  It  contains  all  the  in- 
formation that  the  general  reader  can 
desire — quite  as  much  as  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  find  in  more  elaborate  publica- 
tions— and  its  facts  have  the  rare  advan- 
tagein  works  of  science,  of  being  present- 
ed in  the  most  agreeable  shape.  We 
must  admit  that  had  the  Society  expressly 
issued  this  volume,  instead  of  merely  ex- 
tending its  sanction  to  it,  we  might  have 
had  it  at  a  much  more  moderate  charge ; 
but  quartos  alone  are  supposed  to  carry 
dignity  with  them,  and  a  light,  elegant, 
and  popular  book  like  this  is  considered 
too  trifling  a  vehicle  for  the  grave  com- 
munications of  science.  Science  too, 
delights  in  technicality,  and  prefers  a 
language  of  its  own  ;  but  the  editor  of 
the  work  before  us,  conceiving  that  the 
first  duty  of  a  writer  is  to  be  intelligible, 
uses  only  common  phrases  upon  common 
subjects ;  and  instead  of  wrapping  up 
his  meaning  in  abstruse  and  mysterious 
terms,  leaves  it  as  open  to  the  appre- 
hension of  the  reader  as  clear  and  simple 
forms  of  expression  can  make  it.  The 
editor  has  enjoyed  one  great  advantage 


— of  collecting  his  facts  and  making  his 
descriptions  from  living  and  preserved 
specimens  in  the  Society's  collection  ; 
where  he  has  been  obliged  to  follow  the 
track  of  others,  to  content  himself  with 
the  statements  of  previous  writers,  he 
has  equally  evinced  his  taste  and  discri- 
mination. He  has  not,  of  course,  at- 
tempted any  thing  like  a  system,  such 
a  volume  as  this  precluding  the  possibi- 
lity of  classification  :  a  systematic  index, 
however,  is  appended  to  the  work,  ar- 
ranged according  to  Cuvier. 

The  illustrations,  of  course,  form  an 
important  feature.  They  are  very  nu- 
merous, and  are  executed,  from  draw- 
ings on  wood,  by  Mr.  Harvey,  by 
Branston,  Wright,  and  others.  We 
must  confess  that  the  execution  of  them 
is  very  unequal.  There  is  too  prevalent 
a  hardness  in  the  various  substances 
forming  the  coverings  of  the  animals, 
and  an  un-artist-like  monotony  in  the 
outlines,  as  in  the  back  of  the  chin- 
chilla. We  could  wish  to  have  seen 
more  of  the  feeling  displayed  in  the  grey 
squirrel,  the  ratel,  and  the  American 
bison.  What  is  called  the  cutting,  is 
throughout  decidedly  clever  ;  but  truth 
of  appearance  should  never  be  sacrificed 
to  this  mechanical  dexterity.  We 
would  instance  the  flying  squirrel, 
p.  185,  where  the  soft  fur  of  the  ani- 
mal, the  hairy  tail,  the  leaf  behind  and 
the  branch  beneath,  all  seem  composed 
of  the  same  material.  This  exhibits 
want  of  feeling  ;  and  in  delineations  of 
animals,  so  distinguished  for  variety 
of  texture,  is  especially  censurable. 
Something,  we  think,  has  also  been  oc- 
casionally sacrificed  to  elegance  of  atti- 
tude. With  all  his  genius,  Mr.  Harvey 
has  a  taste  for  a  superfluous  refinement 
that  disposes  him  to  regard  nature  as 
invariably  graceful ;  some  of  his  animals 
remind  us  of  the  epithet  in  the  "  Tem- 
pest," "  a  most  exquisite  monster."  The 
vignettes  or  tail-pieces  are  exceedingly 
bright,  picturesque,  and  fanciful. 

We  have  again  to  express  our  appro- 
bation of  the  Landscape  Illustrations  of 
the  Waverley  Novels.  The  Seventh  Part 
contains  a  view  of  Edinburgh  Castle, 
by  Stanfield,  very  beautifully  engraved 
by  William  Finden  ;  the  effect  is  as 
poetical  as  a  lover  of  the  "  auld  town" 
could  desire.  The  others  are — St.  An- 
thony's Chapel,  by  Barret — Loch  Awe, 
and  Ben  Cruachan,  by  Fraser — and  the 
Hill  of  Hoy,  by  Copley  Fielding,  from 
a  sketch  by  the  Marchioness  of  Stafford. 
These  are  very  tastefully  executed  by 
Edward  Finden. 

The  nineteenth  is  one  of  the  very 
best  numbers  of  the  National  Portrait 
Gallery.  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence's  picture 
of  Lord  Goderich,  has  been  ably  en- 
graved by  Jenkins,  and  is  followed  by 
a  portrait  of  Richard  Person,  by  Kirby 


712 


List  of  New  Works. 


[DEC. 


and  Hall,  "  a  portrait  which,"  as  his 
biographer  observes,  "  bears  evidence  of 
truth,  by  preserving  the  strong  indica- 
tion which  marked  his  countenance." 
The  concluding  portrait  is  that  of  the 
Hon.  G.  A.  Ellis,  beautifully  engraved 
by  Scriven,  from  a  painting  by  Phillips. 
The  expression  here,  however,  has  been 
refined  and  finished  into  something  far 
beyond  the  character  of  the  original ; 
and  notwithstanding  a  general  resem- 
blance, it  does  not  come  by  anv  means 
so  near  the  truth  as  Mr.  Jerdan's  sketch 
of  his  character. 

The  third  sample  of  Views  in  the  East, 
comes  before  us  with  unabated  beauty. 
The  first  is  Assan  Mabal  Beejapore,  by 
Boys  and  Hamilton ;  the  second,  Jumma 
Musjid  Agra,  by  Purser  and  Boys — 
both  of  them  picturesque  scenes,  skil- 
fully engraved.  The  last,  and  we  may 
add,  the  loveliest,  is  Cawnpore,  by  Prout 
and  Mottram.  This  beautiful  scene  is 
almost  English  in  its  character  ;  and  but 
for  the  oriental  buildings  gleaming  here 
and  there  among  the  foliage,  we  might 
fancy  that  the  smooth  transparent  tide 
was  real  Thames- water,  and  that  the 
trees  on  its  banks  were  growing  in  our 
own  soil. 

We  have  been  highly  gratified  by 
looking  through  six  numbers  of  a  very 


novel  and  interesting  publication — The 
Ein/lixli,  Sch (Ml-,  a  series  of  the  most  ap- 
proved productions  in  Painting  and  Sculp- 
ture, from  the  days  of  Hogarth.  Each 
number  contains  six  outlines  from  the 
most  celebrated  modern  pictures  ;  they 
are  executed  by  French  artists,  and  are 
accompanied  by  brief  descriptive  notices 
in  French  and  English.  The  names  of 
the  painters — for  we  have  not  space  to 
particularize  the  various  subjects—form 
an  irresistible  catalogue.  The  choicest 
works  of  Wilkie,  Morland,  West,  Fu- 
seli,  Lawrence,  Reynolds,  Harlow,  Les- 
lie, Newton,  Flaxman,  Stothard,  Barry, 
Mulready,  Nollekens,  Gainsborough, 
Northcofe,  Chantrey,  &c.  (we  must 
abridge  even  such  a  list  as  this)  are  here 
brought  before  us  in  the  prettiest  man- 
ner possible.  If  there  are  one  or  two 
that  might  have  been  omitted  without 
injury,  there  are  twenty  others  that  it 
would  have  been  a  sin  to  have  left  out. 
These  outlines  are  among  the  most 
beautiful  that  we  have  seen :  in  some 
instances  the  accuracy  and  spirit  of  the 
figures  are  surprising,  considering  the 
smallness  of  the  scale.  They  are  cabinet 
treasures.  In  addition  to  their  other 
merits,  they  have  a  beauty  that  cannot 
fail  to  recommend  them  to  all  admirers 
of  art — cheapness. 


WORKS  IN  THE  PRESS  AND  NEW  PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS   IN    THE    PRESS. 

A  History  of  the  Reformation  in 
Switzerland.  By  A.  Ruchat.  Com- 

E rising  a  Period  of  Forty  Years,  viz., 
rom  1516  to  1556.  Translated  from 
the  French,  by  Joseph  Brackenbury, 
Assistant  Chaplain  at  the  Magdalen. 

Remarks  on  a  New  and  Important 
Remedy  in  Consumptive  Diseases.  By 
John  H.  Doddridge,  Surgeon. 

A  Refutation  of  an  Article  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review,  entitled  Sadler's 
Law  of  Population.  By  M.  T.  Sadler, 
Esq.,  M.P. 

A  new  edition  of  Colonel  Montagu's 
Ornithological  Dictionary,  with  nume- 
rous illustrative  wood-cuts  and  additions. 
Edited  by  J.  Rennie,  Esq.,  F.S.S.,  is 
announced. 

A  History  of  the  late  Revolution  in 
France.  By  the  Rev.  Arthur  Johnson. 

Elements  of  Algebra.  By  Augustus 
de  Morgan. 

The  High-mettled  Racer.  By  the 
late  Charles  Dibdin.  Illustrated  with 
wood-cuts  by  Cruickshank. 

A  Work  on  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem, 
according  to  the  description  of  the  Pro- 
phet Ezekiel.  Bv  John  Sanders,  Archi- 
tect. 

Travels  and  Researches  of  Eminent 
English  Missionaries. 


Manners  and  Customs  of  the  Modern 
Egyptians,  illustrated  from  their  mo- 
dern sayings  at  Cairo.  By  John  Lewis 
Burckhardt. 

The  Dorians :  an  Account  of  the 
early  History,  Religion,  Mythology, 
Institutions,  Arts,  &c.  of  that  Race, 
from  the  German  of  Muller. 

Knox's  History  of  the  Reformation  of 
Ireland  in  Scotland  ;  with  an  Historical 
Introduction  and  Notes.  By  William 
M' Gavin,  Esq. 

The  fifteenth  volume  of  "  The  An- 
nual Biography  and  Obituary,"  to  be 
published  on  the  1st  of  January,  1831, 
will  contain  Memoirs,  among  other  dis- 
tinguished persons,  of  Sir  Charles  Vini- 
combe  Penrose,  the  Right  Hon.  George 
Tierney,  Sir  George  Montagu,  His  Ma- 
jesty George  IV.,  Lord  Redesdale,  Sir 
Charles  Brisbane,  Dr.  Gooch,  Sir  Thomas 
Lawrence,  Bishop  James,  Sir  Thomas 
Staines,  Dr.  Somerville,  Sir  Charles 
Morice  Pole,  Bart.,  William  Buhner, 
Esq.,  Sir  Eliab  Harvey,  the  Right  Hon. 
William  Huskisson,  Major  -  General 
David  Stewart,  William  Hazlitt,  Esq., 
Major  Rennell,  &c.  &c. 

Mr.  Curtis,  Surgeon  Aurist  to  His 
Majesty,  has  in  the  press  a  new  edition 
of  his  Treatise  on  the  Physiology  and 
Diseases  of  the  Ear. 


1 830.  ] 


List  of  New   Works. 


713 


The  Life  of  Thomas  Fanshawe  Mid- 
dleton,  D.D.,  Lord  Bishop  of  Calcutta. 
By  the  Rev.  C.  W.  Le  Bas,  M.A. 

H.  H.  Wilson,  Esq.  has  in  the  press, 
at  Calcutta,  a  new  Edition  of  his  San- 
scrit and  English  Dictionary,  much 
enlarged. 

A  Help  to  Professing  Christians,  in 
judging  of  their  Spiritual  State  and 
growth  in  Grace.  Containing  Direc- 
tions for  Self-Examination,  the  false 
and  genuine  Evidences  of  true  Godli- 
ness. By  the  Itev.  John  Barr,  of  Glas- 
gow. 

A  Translation  from  the  German  of 
Part  I.  of  Anatomical  Demonstrations, 
or  a  Collection  of  Colossal  Representa- 
tions  of  Human  Anatomy.  By  Profes- 
sor Surig  of  Breslau. 

The  Annals  of  My  Village,  being  a 
Calendar  of  Nature  for  every  month  in 
the  year.  By  the  Author  of  "  Select 
Female  Biography." 

Lectures  on  Music.  By  William 
Crotch,  Professor. 

Divarication  of  the  New  Testament 
into  Doctrine  and  History.  By  T. 
VVirgman,  Esq. 

Stories  for  Children,  selected  from 
various  American  Authors.  By  Miss 
M.  A.  Mitford,  Author  of  "  Our  Vil- 
lage." 

Roxobel.    By  Mrs.  Sherwood. 
Beauties    of   the  Mind,    a    Poetical 
Sketch  ;  with  Lays,  Historical  and  Ro- 
mantic.     By  Charles  Swain,  Author  of 
"  Metrical  Essays." 

Hall's  Contemplations  ;  with  an  Essay 
on  his  Life  and  Writings.  By  the  llev. 
llalph  Wardlaw,  D.D. 

Travels  in  Chili,  Buenos  Ayres,  and 
Peru.  By  Samuel  Haigh,  Esq. 

Description  of  an  Invention  for  form- 
ing an  Instantaneous  Line  of  Commu- 
nication with  the  Shore  in  cases  of 
Shipwreck,  and  illuminating  the  scene 
by  Night.  By  John  Murray. 

Essays  concerning  the  Faculties  and 
Economy  of  the  Mind.  By  William 
Clod  win. 

The  Military  Bijou  ;  or,  the  Contents 
of  a  Soldier's  Knapsack ;  being  the 
Gleanings  of  Thirty-three  Years  active 
Service.  By  John  Shipp,  Author  of  his 
own  Memoirs. 

Serious  Poems  ;  comprising  The 
Church-yard,  The  Deluge,  Mount 
Calvary,  The  Village  Sabbath,  &c.  &c. 
By  Mrs.  Thomas. 

Sketch  Book  of  a  Y  oung  Naturalist. 
By  the  Author  of  Sketches  from  Na- 
ture. 

A  Century  of  Birds,  from  the  Hima- 
laya Mountains,  now  for  the  first  time  • 
delineated.     By  John  Gould,  A.L.S. 

Don  Telesforo  De  Trueba,  the  Spa- 
nish  novelist,   has  in  the  press    anew 
Tale  under  the  piquant  title  of  "  Sins 
and    Peccadillos." — The   same   accoin- 
M.M.  New  Series.— -VOL.  X.  No.  GO. 


plished  writer  has,  we  understand,  in 
active  preparation  a  Satirical  Novel, 
which  bears  strongly  on  the  events  and 
follies  of  the  day.  Both  works  will  make 
their  appearance  in  the  course  of  the 


LIST  OF  NEW  WORKS. 

BIOGRAPHY  AND  HISTORY. 

The  Life  of  Titian,  with  Anecdotes  of 
the  distinguished  Persons  of  his  Time. 
By  James  Northcote.  2  vols.  8vo.  28s, 

Memoir  of  the  Life  of  Henry  Francis 
D.  Aguesseau,  Chancellor  of  France  and 
of  his  Ordonances.  By  Charles  But- 
ler, Esq.  8vo.  6s.  6d. 

Memoir  of  George  IV.  By  the  Rev. 
G.  Croly.  8vo.  15s. 

Life  and  Adventures  of  Giovani  Fi- 
nati.  By  Wm.  Banks.  2  vols.  12mo, 
14s. 

Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Newnham.  12mo. 
5s.  6d. 

The  Literary  Correspondence  of  John 
Pinkerton.  By  Dawson  Turner.  2  vols. 
8vo.  32s. 

Boscobell  Tracts,  relating  to  the  Es^ 
cape  of  Charles  II.  after  the  Battle  o.f 
Worcester,  &c.  By  J.  Hughes,  Esq. 
ovo.  14s. 

Narrative  of  the  French  Revolution  of 
1830.  By  D.  Turnbull,  Esq.  8vo.  10s, 

Military  Events  of  the  late  Revolu- 
tion at  Paris.  By  an  Officer  of  the 
Guards,  from  the  French.  3s.  6d. 

Emerson's  History  of  Modern  Greece. 
2  vols.  8vo.  £1.12s. 

A  View  of  the  Legal  Institutions, 
Honorary  Hereditary  Offices,  and  Feu- 
dal Baronies  in  Ireland,  during  the 
Reign  of  Henry  II.  By  William  Lynch, 
Esq.  8vo.  25s. 

Parties  and  Factions  in  England  at 
the  Accession  of  William  IV.  In  8vo. 
Price  2s.  6d. 

LAW. 

Concise  and  Comprehensive  Form  of 
a  Lease  for  Farms.  By  a  Norfolk  Land- 
owner. 12mo.  5s. 

PetersdorrPs  Reports.  Vol.  15.  Royal 
8vo.  31s.  6d. 

Statutes  XL  George  IV.,  and  I. 
William  IV.,  with  Notes.  By  Dowling. 
12mo.  10s.  fid. 

Statutes  at  Large.  4to.  12  Parts. 
XL  George  IV.  and  I.  William  IV. 
20s. 

Hansard's  Parliamentary  Debates. 
Vol.  24.  Royal  8vo.  30s. 

MEDICAL  AND  CHEMICAL. 

Leache's  Selections  from  Gregory's 
Conspectus  and  Celci^s.  18mo.  7s. 

Chemical  Manipulation,  being  In- 
structions to  Students  in  Chemistry  on 
performing  Experiments  of  Dem  oust  ra- 
tion with  Accuracy.  By  M.  Faraday, 
8vo.  18s. 

4  X 


14 


List  of  Ncn>  Works. 


[DEC. 


Elements  of  Chemistry.  By  Andrew 
Fyfe,  M.  D.  Second  'Edition.  Com- 
prehending all  the  Recent  Discoveries. 
8vo.  Price  £  1.4s. 

Elements  of  Surgery.  By  Robert 
Liston,  Surgeon  to  the  Royal  Infirmary 
of  Edinburgh,  &c.  &c.  &c.  Part  I.  8vo. 
9s.  bds. 

A  Popular  Treatise  on  Glanders  and 
Farcy.  By  llichard  Vines,  Areterinary 
Surgeon.  8vo.  12s. 

A  Discourse  upon  National  Dietetics, 
as  connected  with  Dyspepsia,  Gout,  and 
many  Diseases  of  this  and  other  Coun- 
tries. By  George  Warren,  Surgeon. 
8vo.  Price  2s.  Cd. 

Remarks  upon  the  Value  of  Ausculta- 
tion in  the  Diagnosis  of  Diseases  in  the 
Chest :  a  Prize  Essay  by  W.  Travers 
Cox,  M.D.  &c.  8vo.  2s.  Gd. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

Wanderings  of  Tom  Starboard.  12mo. 


7s. 


More  Stories  for  Idle  Hours.     18mo. 


2s 

French  and  English  Pictorial  Voca- 
bulary. 12mo.  2s.  Cd. 

Greek  and  English  Lexicon,  for  the 
Use  of  Schools.  By  the  Rev.  T.  D. 
Hincks.  12mo.  10s.  Gd. 

Love's  Offering,  a  Musical  Offering 
for  1831.  12s. 

Musical  Forget-Me-Not  for  1831. 
4to.  12s. 

Lessons  in  Arithmetic  in  Principle 
and  Practice,  for  the  Instruction  of 
young  Merchants.  By  Thomas  Smith. 
12mo.  3s.  6d. 

Elementary  Details  of  Pictorial  Map- 
Drawing,  in  One  Hundred  and  Fifty- 
four  Lessons,  in  English,  French,  and 
German.  Price  3s.  6d. 

The  Catechism  of  Iron  ;  or  the  Mer- 
chant's and  Mechanic's  Guide  to  the 
Iron  Trade.  ByB.  Legge,  of  Wednes- 
bury  Oak  Iron  Works,  Staffordshire. 
Price  7s. 

A  Treatise  on  Jacotot's  Method  of 
Teaching  Languages,  adapted  to  the 
French  Language.  By  J.  Tourrier. 
12mo.  Price  3s.  6d. 

An  Essay  on  Civil  Policy,  or  the 
Science  of  Legeslation.  By  Charles 
Putt,  Esq.  8vo.  14s. 

Internal  Policy  of  Nations.     8vo.    6s. 
An    Inquiry     on     the     Intellectual 
Powers.     By  John  Abercrombie,  M.D. 
8vo.     10s.  Gd. 

Pratt's  History  of  Saving's  Banks. 
12mo.  7s.  Gd. 

The  Domestic  Gardener's  Manual; 
being  an  Introduction  to  Gardening  on 
Philosophical  Principles.  By  a  Practical 
Horticulturist.  8vo.  12s. 

Wright's  Cambridge  Mathematical 
Examination  Papers.  Part  I.  8vo. 
7s.  Gd. 

Rubie's  British  Celestial  Atlas.  Royal 
4to.  25s. 


Collection  of  Spanish  Proverbs.  18mo. 
Is.  Gd.  Italian  ditto.  Is.  Gd. 

Biden  on  Naval  Discipline.  8vo. 
10s. 

Buhner's  Beauties  of  the  Vicar  of 
Landovery.  12mo.  5s. 

NOVELS    AND    TALES. 

Chartley,  or  the  Fatalist,  a  Novel. 
3  vols.  post  8vo.  £1 .  8s.  Gd. 

The  Sea-Kings  in  England  ;  a  Histo- 
rical Romance  of  the  Time  of  Alfred. 
By  the  Author  of  "  The  Fall  of 
Nineveh."  3  vols.  £1.  11s.  Gd. 

The  Queen's  Page,  a  Romance.  By 
Selina  Davenport.  3  vols.  !2mo.  18s. 

Maxwell,  a  Story  of  the  Middle 
Ranks.  By  T.  Hook,  Esq.  3  vols. 
£1.  lls  Gd. 

Russell  ;  or  the  Reign  of  Fashion,  a 
Novel.  3  vols.  £1.  8s.  Gd. 

Joe  Oxford,  or  the  Runaway,  a  No- 
vel. 3  vols  12mo.  24s. 

The  Rectory  of  Valehead.  By  the 
Rev.  R.  W.  Evans.  12mo.  6s. 

POETRY. 

The  Bereaved,  Kenilworth,  and  other 
Poems.  By  the  Rev.  E.  Whitfield. 
12mo.  6s. 

Historic  Survey  of  German  Poetry, 
interspersed  with  various  Translations. 
By  W.  Taylor  of  Norwich.  3  vols.  8vo. 
£2.  5s. 

The  Camp  of  Wallenstein,  from  the 
German.  By  Lord  F.  L.  Gower.  12mo. 
5s.  Gd. 

Zelinda,  a  Persian  Tale.  By  Richard 
Badnall.  8vo.  3s. 

The  Vocal  Annual,  or  Singer's  Own 
Book  for  1831.  18mo.  4s. 

RELIGION,    MORALS,    &C. 

Piety  without  Asceticism.  By  the 
Bishop  of  Limerick.  8vo.  12s. 

Sermons  on  the  Festivals  and  Holi- 
days of  the  Church.  By  the  Rev.  A.  T. 
Russell.  12mo.  4s. 

The  Sacred  Offering  for  1831.  32mo. 
4s.  Gd. 

Gurney's  Biblical  Notes  and  Disser- 
tations. 8vo.  12s. 

A  Discourse  on  the  Authenticity  and 
Divine  Origin  of  the  Old  Testament ; 
from  the  French  of  J.  E.  Celle'riere. 
By  the  Rev.  John  Reynell  Wreford. 
8vo  8s. 

The  Progress  of  Society.  By  the  late 
Robert  Hamilton,  L.L.D. 


TRAVELS. 


reece 
8vo. 


Narrative  of  a  Journey  through  G 
in  1830.  By  Captain  T.  A.  Trant. 
16s. 

Edinburgh  Cabinet  Library;  vol  2. 
Contents— Narrative  of  Discovery  and 
Adventure  in  Africa  from  the  earliest 
Ages.  By  Professor  Jamieson,  James 
Wilson,  Esq.,  and  Hugh  Murray,  Esq. 
12mo.  5s. 


1830.]  List  of  New  Works.  715 

The  Present   State  of  Australia,  its  VOYAGES. 

Advantages  and  Prospects.    By  Robert  A  Voyage  round  the  World  in  the 

Dawson,  Esq.    8vo.     14s.  Years  1823,  4,  5,  6.     By  Captain  Kot- 

The  Moravians  in  Greenland.    18mo.  zebue  of  the   Russian  Navy.     2  vols. 

3s.  6d.  8vo.    21s. 


MONTHLY  AGRICULTURAL  REPORT. 


THE  tone  of  our  country  letters  and  reports  has  been,  for  a  length  of  time,  and 
at  the  present  unfortunate  crisis  especially  is,  rather  political  than  agricultural : 
our  elders  held  that,  in  the  multitude  of  counsellors  there  is  wisdom  ;  confiding 
in  that  axiom,  the  Legislature  can  scarcely  err,  unless  from  the  uncertainty  as  to 
what  branch  of  the  tree  of  wisdom  it  may  be  expedient  to  light  upon.  The 
autumnal  quarter  has  been  singularly  favourable,  and  in  perfect  contrast  to  its 
predecessors,  for  every  operation  of  husbandry  ;  the  only  cause  of  regret  being  the 
length  and  expensiveness  of  latter  harvest,  atoned  for  yet,  in  a  considerable 
degree,  by  the  superior  condition  of  the  late  gathered  corn  and  pulse.  The  dry 
weather  of  October  was  in  the  highest  degree  beneficial  to  the  heavy,  wet  lands, 
with  the  drawback,  however,  of  rendering  them,  particularly  the  clover  and  bean 
stubbles,  cloddy  and  stubborn,  and  almost  inaccessible  to  the  seed-plough  ;  this 
again,  to  consummate  our  autumnal  good  fortune,  has  found  a  remedy  in  the  showers 
of  the  present  month,  rendering  the  clay  friable  and  practicable,  and  enabling 
the  farmer  to  deposit  his  seed  in  the  soil  in  a  manner  favourable  and  early  beyond 
expectation.  It  has  been  said  that,  the  season  being  so  inviting  has  induced  many 
farmers  to  sow  a  greater  breadth  of  wheat  than  they  had  either  intended  or  hoped. 
Accounts  of  the  year's  crops  continue  unfavourable,  and  in  a  greater  degree 
when  brought  to  the  test.  It  is  now  asserted,  and  we  fear  too  much  in  the  guise 
of  demonstration,  that  wheat,  far  from  being  a  general  average,  is  more  probable 
to  be  scarce  as  consumption  advances,  and  that  we  must  still  rely  on  foreign 
assistance.  The  markets  have  hitherto  been  very  scantily  supplied  with  English 
wheat,  and  the  price  high,  though  the  known  necessities  of  the  farmers  seemed  to 
lead  to  a  very  different  result ;  but  it  is  said  that,  with  too  many  of  them,  the 
stock  of  wheat  has  fallen  very  short,  and  that  they  have  but  little  to  dispose  of. 
Certainly,  however,  the  pressing  business  of  a  la'te  harvest,  and  the  demand  for 
seed,  the  troubles  in  some  parts  of  the  country,  and  even  the  quantity  of  corn 
destroyed  by  abandoned  profligacy,  must  have  contributed  to  keep  the  markets 
thin  of  supply.  In  many  expected  large  crops  of  wheat,  the  abundance  has  been 
found  chiefly  to  reside  in  the  straw,  and  on  heavy  lands  the  crop  has  proved  in- 
ferior to  that  of  1829.  Barley,  the  next  article  in  value,  however  partially  fine,  is 
a  total  failure  on  soils  insufficiently  light  and  dry.  The  condition  of  all  stacked 
corn  has  been  much  improved  by  the  favourable  change  of  weather.  The  crops 
of  every  description  seem  to  have  suffered  most  in  our  northern  border  countries, 
and  in  Scotland.  Much  of  the  distress  of  the  times  has  been,  by  our  rural  econo- 
mists, laid  to  the  change  of  the  currency ;  but  we  do  really  apprehend  that  taxes, 
tithes,  short  crops,  and  high  rents,  have  been  far  the  most  active  and  efficient 
agents  in  the  business,  and  but  for  their  presence,  we  should  have  heard  little 
about  changes  of  currency. 

The  seed  season  for  wheat,  rye,  and  winter  tares,  is  thus,  for  the  most  part, 
completed  ;  but  the  state  of  the  lands  to  which  the  seed  has  been  committed,  pre- 
sents a  most  discouraging  consideration.  Every  kind  of  weed,  the  growth  of  our 
soil  and  the  curse  of  our  husbandry,  has  been  left  in  full  luxuriance,— the  couch, 
grass  trimmed  and  pruned  by  the  plough  for  a  new  vegetation,  which  is  actually 
taking  place  in  chivalrous  rivalry  with  its  twin  brother  the  wheat !  As  an  ad- 
dition to  our  misfortunes,  or  our  errors,  the  slug  continues  to  commit  enormous 
depredations  on  the  young  wheat,  insomuch,  that  many  farmers  have  judiciously 
drilled  fresh  seed  upon  the  bared  places :  the  old  remedies,  also,  of  quick-lime, 
ashes,  soot,  and  salt,  nave  been  called  into  activitv,  and  applied  chiefly  in  the  after- 
part  of  the  day.  Mangold  (beet)  proved  a  middling  crop,  the  roots  not  of  large 
size,  but  the  vegetation  abundant,  which  was  generally  ploughed  into  the  soil  as 
a  manure.  The  roots  were  saved  and  stored  in  good  order,  and  the  favourable 
change  of  weather  improved  the  turnips,  but  came  too  late  to  render  them  a 
profitable  crop.  They  are  small  in  the  bulb,  and  perhaps  cannot  be  generally 
rated  at  above  half  a  crop.  Swedes,  though  natives  of  a  more  rigid  climate, 
cannot  resist  the  vicissitudes  of  ours.  As  an  atonement  for  this,  there  is  yet 

4X2 


71()  Agricultural  Report.  [DEC 

plenty  of  grass ;  and  should  the  weather  continue  open,  cattle  will  be  supported 
abroad,  and  our  winter  resources  much  economized.  Markets  and  fairs  are  much 
in  the  same  state  as  described  in  our  last  Report,  varying  in  different  parts  of  the 
country  as  to  readiness  of  sale,  and  the  reverse ;  but  on  the  whole,  prices  are 
obviously  improving.  Cattle  have  also  come  to  market  in  an  improved  condition,, 
and  in  sufficient  numbers  to  meet  the  demand  ;  but  the  heavy  losses  suffered  this 
year  by  the  graziers,  and  the  general  want  of  money,  have  made  them  cautious. 
Though  the  rot  in  sheep  has  prevailed  extensively,  it  has  yet  left  a  number  of  the 
sound  equal  to  the  demand ;  none  however,  even  of  these,  are  now  saleable  with- 
out warranty.  In  the  mean  time,  common  sense  cannot  restrain  a  laugh  at  the 
idea  of  sheep-owners  trusting  to  the  infallible  nostrums  of  advertising  quacks,  to 
cure  what  ?  a  ROT — animal  disorganization,  perfected  and  complete  internal  cor- 
ruption !  We  would  earnestly  recommend  an  application  in  such  a  case  to  Mr. 
St.  John  Long — miracles  are  obviously  in  requisition,  and  no  one  knows  what 
miracles  might  be  wrought  by  a  touch  of  counter-irritation,  whether  on  sick  or 
sound  sheep. — Sows  seem  to  have  become  as  prolific  as  in  former  days,  and  many 
fairs  have  been  absolutely  littered  with  pigs.  Horses  are  not  generally  ready  of 
sale,  and  even  good  ones  do  not  command  so  high  a  price  as  of  late,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  cart  colts,  and  the  best  of  that  kind.  Money,  even  in  the  present 
dearth,  is  forthcoming  for  fine  cart  horses ;  and  the  patriotic  and  practical  Coke,  of 
Holkham,  harangues  the  tenantry  in  vain,  to  recommend  the  economy  of  ox- 
labour,  with  the  renovation  of  our  exhausted  soil,  and  the  employment  of  our 
surplus  labourers,  through  the  only  effective  means  of  the  Tullian  husbandry. 
Wool,  at  a  pause  in  some  districts,  is  still  on  the  advance  in  others,  and  no  stock 
on  hand  among  the  largest  flock -masters.  The  herring  fishery  has  been  successful 
on  the  Kentish  coast,  affording  great  relief  during  its  season  to  the  poor  of  that 
disturbed  county.  Manchester  has  been  unfortunately  visited  by  a  tremendous 
storm,  accompanied  by  deluges  of  rain,  which  swelled  the  river  Irwell  upwards  of 
forty  feet  above  its  usual  level,  and  inundated  the  roads,  and  thousands  of  acrus 
of  meadow  land  ;  this,  with  the  loss  of  live  stock,  and  damage  to  bridges,  houses, 
and  manufacturing  establishments,  cannot  be  estimated  at  a  less  sum  than  one 
hundred  thousand  pounds. 


Smithfitld.—'Beef,  2s.  8d.  to  3s.  10d.— Mutton,  2s.  4d.  to  4s.  6d — Veal,  4s.  to 
5s.  2d.— Pork,  4s.  to  5s.— Rough  fat,  2s.  7£d. 

Corn  Exchange.— Wheat,  54s.  to  78s.— Barley,  28s.  to  42s — Oats,  19s.  to  32.— 
London  41b.  loaf,  lOd — Hay,  50s.  to  l()5s. — Clover  ditto,  5Cs.  to  105s.— Straw, 
27s.  to  3Gs. 

Coals  in  the  Pool,  28s.  6d.  to  37s.  per  chaldron. 

Middlesex,  Nov.  22nd. 


MONTHLY  COMMERCIAL  REPORT. 


SUGAR. — The  Sugar  Market  has  been  rather  dull  all  the  week  ;  by  public  sales 
about  900  hogsheads,  tierces,  and  barrels  of  Trinidad,  Antigua,  and  Barbadoes  on 
Tuesday  last  went  off  (Jd.  and  1  s.  lower.  No  general  reduction  in  market  prices 
by  private  contract.  It  the  refined  market  there  is  an  uncertainty  as  to  prices, 
holders  refusing  to  sell  at  the  very  low  prices  which  are  stated  to  be  accepted  for 
money  ;  the  few  offers  that  have  been  made  on  lumps  and  low  lumps  have  been 
on  very  low  terms;  the  prices  of  which,  since  the  alteration  in  the  bounty,  the 
reduction  has  been  considerably  greater  than  upon  any  other  description  of  goods, 
the  melters  having  continued  to  purchase  Prussian  lumps,  and  single,  at  about 
70s.  to  72s. ;  the  transactions  however  have  been  limited  to  very  small  parcels, 
chiefly  for  crushing  for  the  Mediterranean.  In  grocery  descriptions  there  has  been 
less  doing,  but  prices  are  steady.  By  public  sale,  on  Tuesday,  59  puncheons 
Antigua,  12  puncheons  Trinidad  molasses,  good  quality,  21s.  6d.  to  22s. — East 
India  Sugar.  The  quantity  of  Siam  sugar  arrived,  and  to  be  brought  here,  is 
very  considerable ;  in  consequence  of  the  state  of  Antwerp  the  prices  have  given 
way  about  2s.  per  cwt. ;  about  7500  have  been  already  disposed  of,  middling  to 
good  white,  24s.  to  25s. ;  low  white,  21s.  to  23s.;  brown,  to  very  fine  yellow,  15s. 
to  21s.  No  purchases  of  foreign  sugar  by  private  contract.  By  public  sale,  400 


1830.]  Commercial  Report.  717 

bags  damaged  Havannak ;  the  whole  went  off  rather  lower ;  white,  26s.  6d.  to 
2!)s. ;  yellow,  15s.  to  22s. 

COFFEE.— Sales  have  been  very  limited  ;  the  whole  went  off  heavily  at  prices  a 
shade  lower  ;  considerable  sales  of  St.  Domingo,  good  to  tine  old  colouring,  33s.  to 
35s.  The  East  India  was  old  Cheribon,  sold  at  full  prices,  33s.  and  33s.  Cd. ; 
Brazil,  34s.  and  34s.  6d. 

HUM,  BRANDY,  HOLLANDS. — Several  offers  have  been  made  for  parcels  of  Hum 
under  quoted  prices,  but  they  have  been  rejected.  Brandy  is  very  dull ;  the  best 
marks  offer  at  5s.  6d.  In  Geneva  there  is  no  alteration. 

HEMP,  FLAX,  AND  TALLOW. — Tallow  is  less  firm.  In  Hemp  and  Flax  there 
is  no  material  alteration. 

Course  of  Foreiyu  Exchange. — Amsterdam,  12.44- — Rotterdam,  12. 1£ — Antwerp, 

00.  0. — Hamburg,  13.  14|  — Altona,  00.  00. — Paris,  25.  25 Bordeaux,  25.  65 

Berlin,  0.— Frankfort-on-the-Main,  151.  ().— Petersburg,  10.  0.— Vienna,  10.  10 

Trieste,  0.  0— Madrid,  00.0.— Cadiz,  36.  Of.— Bilboa,  36.  0^.— Barcelona,  36.  0.— 
Seville,  36.  OJ.— Gibraltar,  49.  0|.— Leghorn,  48.  0.— Genoa,  25.  75.— Venice, 
46.  0.— Malta,  48.  04.— Naples,  39.  0£.— Palermo,  IIS.O^.— Lisbon,  44];.— Oporto, 
45.  0.— liio  Janeiro,  18.  OA.— Bahia,  27-  0.— Dublin,  1.  04.— Cork,  1.  0*. 

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

Premiums  on  Shares  and  Canals,  and  Joint  Stock  Companies,  at  the  Office  of 
WOLFE,  Brothers,  23,  Change  Alley,  CornhilL— Birmingham  CANAL,  (i  sh.)  2867.— 
Coventry,  850/. — Ellesmere  and  Chester,  73/. — Grand  Junction,  2441 — Kennet  and 
Avon,  25/. — Leeds  and  Liverpool,  390/. — Oxford,  600/. — llegent's,  20/. — Trent  and 
Mersey,  (\  sh.)  600J. — Warwick  and  Birmingham,  280/. — London  DOCKS  (Stock) 
(J74/.— West  India  (Stock),  177/.— East  London  WATER  WORKS,  122/.— Grand 
Junction,  OO/ — West  Middlesex,  774*-—  Alliance  British  and  Foreign  INSURANCE, 
8y. — Globe,  153/.— Guardian,  25|/. — Hope  Life,  6±l. —Imperial  Fire,  110/.— GAS- 
LIGHT Westminster,  chartered  Company,  56/.— City,  191/.— British,  14  dis  — 
Leeds,  I95/. 


ALPHABETICAL  LIST  OF  BANKRUPTCIES, 

Announced  from  October  23c/,  to  November  22d,  1830,  in  the  London  Gazette. 

BANKRUPTCIES   SUPERSEDED.  Brown,  H.,  Norwich,  haberdasher.    (Tillcard 

and  Co.,  Old  Jewry 

T.  Poole,  Fore-street,  linen-draper.  Best,  W.,  Noble-street,  ironmonger.    (Ashley, 

J.  Owen,  Chisvt ell-street,  victualler.  Royal  Exchange 

C.  Appleton,  Northampton,  hosier.  Burgin.  W.,  Old-street,  corn-dealer.     (Smith, 

G.  T.  Elgie,  silver-street,  wine-merchant.  Charter-house-square. 

J.  Crosby,  Spofforth,  joiner.  Bumford,  E.,  Mile-end-road,  builder.     (Carter 

and  Co.,  Royal  Exchange 

Baker,  J.,  Brinscombe-port,  and  Bourne,  coal- 

BANKRUPTCIES.  merchant.     (Crouch,   Jan.,    Southampton-build- 

[ This  Month  11 9.]  Bull,  C.,  Longdon,  farmer.     (King   and  Son, 

V/»7«*/«» />»•**  V/rm/'c  HVP  in   Pnrpnfhs>w<:  Serjeant's-inn  ;  Chroad,  Cheltenham 

Solicitors  Barnes  are  in  Parentheses.  riarker,  ^  Malter8Cy>  miller>  (Holme  and  Co> 

Armstrong,  H.,  Castle-street,   oilman.     (Dun-  New  Inn  ;  Swann,  Nottingham 

combe,  New  North-street  Clarke,    C.,    Old   Gravel  -  lane,    corn  -  dealer, 

Andrew,  M.,   Crown-court,   insurance  broker.  (Brooking  and  Co.,  Lombard-street 

(Lovell,  Gray's-inn  Causon,   E.,  Tewkesbury,  victualler.     (Bons- 

Arkinstall,  T.,  Knighton,  farmer.    (Rosser  and  field,    Chatham -place  ;   Wiiiterbottom  and   Co., 

Son,  Gray's-inn  Tewkesbury 

Bowring,  H.,  Mincing-lane,    colonial  broker.  Cattle,   W.,    Sheriff    Hutton,    cattle  -  dealer. 

(Baddeley,  Leman-street  (Evans  and  Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Ord  and  Co.,  York. 

Bleaden,    J.,    Lothbury,    stationer.     (Davies,  Chapman,  R.,  York,  innkeeper.    (Evans   and 

Kinic's-arnis-yard  Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Ord  and  Co.,  York 

Byers,  J.,    Little  St.  Thomas   Apostle,  tailor.  Chapman,  J.,  Liverpool,  merchant.     (Chester, 

(Bnusfield,  Chatham-place  Staples-inn  ;  Ripley,  Liverpool 

Bremner,  A.,  Coleman-street,  merchant.    (Pat-  Cooper,  R.,   Plas  Ucha  Dwygyfylchi,   dealer, 

erson  and  Co.,  Mincing-lane  (Tucker,  Southwark 

Burne,  T.,  J.  Smith,  and   P.  Woodpate,  jun.,  Christian,  T.  B.,  Leicester,  salt-dealer.    (Dove, 

Watling-stieet,   warehousemen.     (Fisher,  Wai-  Carey-street ;  Smith,  Rugeley. 

brook  Crawley,  T.  C.,  Axuainster,  ironuionger.    (Trc- 


718 


List  of  Bankrupts. 


[DEC. 


lieru  and  Co.,    New  Inn;    Baker,  jun.,   Man- 
chester 

Clark,  G.,  Caiuberwell,  baker.  (Bousficld, 
Chatham-place 

Clark,  T.,  Bristol,  woollen  -  draper.  (Poole 
and  Co.,  Gray's-inn 

Cocking,  T.,  Nottingham,  victualler.  (Capes, 
Gray's-inn 

Dix,  J.;K.,  Lamb's  Conduit-street,  tea-dealer. 
(Few  and  Co.,  Henrietta-street 

Dawe,  F.  and  T.  Gappy,  Coaxden-mills,  Devon., 
millers.  (Burford,  Mtiicovy-court 

Dale.J.,  London-wall,  hirse-dealer.  (Norton, 
Jowin-street 

Dyson,  G.,  Pall-mall,  picture -dealer.  (Burn 
arid  Co.,  Gruy's-inn 

Dixon,  H.,  Leadenhall-street,  trunk  -  maker. 
(Lewis,  Bernard-street 

Daykin,  T.  Nuttall,  shopkeeper.  (Walker, 
Hatton.garden 

Eastman,  H.,  Rood-lane,  broker.  (Sheffield 
and  Sons,  Prescot-street 

Evans,  T.,  Welch-pool,  groopr.  (Philpot  and 
Co.,  Southampton-street;  Hough,  Shrewsbury 

Edwards,  W.,  Lane-en  I,  Stafford,  eartheiiware 
manufacturer.  (Barber,  Fetter  -  lane  ;  Young, 
Lane-end 

Fraser,  J.,  Limehouse,  patent  ship  hearth  ma- 
nulacturer.  (Paterson  and  Co.,  Mincing-lane 

Persuftou,  R.,  Gt.  Prescot-street,  carpenter 
(Sheffield  and  Son,  Gt.  Prescot  street 

Fieldsend,  J.,  and  F.  Crook,  Oxford -street, 
linen-drapers.  (Hardwick  and  Co.,  Lawrence-lane 

Fleming,  R.,  Ebury- street,  cabinet-maker. 
(Willis,  Sloane-square. 

Fowles,  J.,  sen.,  Avening,  stonemason.  (Mere- 
dith, Lothbury 

Garratt,  G.,  High-street,  Marylebone,  victual- 
ler. (Rye,  Golden-square 

Grey,  G.  L.  V.,  Dove-court,  Old  Jewry,  eating- 
housekeeper.  (Blachfcrd,  Fenchurch-buililings 

Grant,  P.,  Strand,  newspaper  vender.  (Briggs, 
Lincoln's-inn-n'clds 

Goodwin,  J.,  Lane-end,  Stafford,  rope-maker. 
(Barber,  Fetter  lane  ;  Younsr,  Lane-end 

Grant,"W.,  Richmond,  linen-draper.  (Carlow, 
Marylebone 

Holditch,  S.,  Totness,  merchant.  (Blake,  Es- 
sex-street 

Hirst,  W.,  Leeds,  merchant.  (Bogue  and  Co., 
John-street;  Moor  and  Co.,  Leeds;  Aiuley,  Del- 
phin,  Saddleworth 

Harris,  VV.,  Cornhill,  optician.  (Wright,  Hart- 
street 

Hill,  P.,  Greek-street,  picture-dealer.  (Wood, 
Dean-street 

Hart,  J.,  Hand-court,  victualler.  (Evitt  and 
Co.,  Haydon-square 

Hodges,  W.  R.,Minories,  linen-draper.  (Tho- 
mas, George-xtreet,  Minories 

Higham,  R.  H.,  New  Bond-street,  tailor.  (Cook 
and  Co.,  New  Inn 

Howlett,  T.,  jun.,  Aston,  grocer.  (Adlington 
and  Co.,  Bedford-row 

Hardwick,  T.,  and  W.  Brown,  Leeds,  brick- 
layers. (Robinson,  Essex-street 

Ibbetson,  W.f  Knaresborough,  dyer.  (Wood- 
liouse  and  Co.,  Temple  ;  Stott,  Leeds 

Jones,  D.,  King's-arms-yard,  merchant.  (Boc- 
fcett  and  Co.,  Cloak- 'ane 

Johnson,  W.,  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  draper. 
{Dunn,  Gray's-inn ;  Wilson,  Newcastle 

Johnson,  V.  M.,  Sheffield,  wine  -  merchant. 
•(Michael,  Red  Lion-square 

Kirwan,  N.,  Lime-street,  merchant.  (Alliston 
and  Co.,  Freeman's-court 

Kirkham,  B.,  Bentick -street,  lodging- house- 
keeper. (Rowlinson  and  Co.,  Southainpton- 
'buildings 

Knapp,  F.,  Camborne,  victualler.  (Evans  and 
Co.,  Gray's-inn  ;  Perkins,  Bristol 

Kirkpatrick,  J.,  Clitheroe,  wine  -  merchant. 
(Beverley,  Gray's-inn;  Trappes,  Clitheroe 

Kerr,  R.,  and  J.  Little,  Ipswich,  tea-dealers. 
(Bolton,  Austin-Friars 

Leigh,  S.  G.,  Oundle,  grocer.  (Amoryand  Co., 
Throgmortori-street 

Longden,  S.,  Finch-lane,  wine  merchant.  (Tre- 
hern  and  Co.,  New  Inn 


Large,  J.,  Gt.  Queen-street,  coach  •  maker. 
(Crosse,  Surrey-street 

Lee,  J.,  Brighton,  victualler.  (Williams,  South- 
ampton-buildings 

Levy,  J.,  Strand,  glass  -  dealer.  (Abrahams, 
Cliffnrd's-inn 

Labron,  R.,  Wakefield,  linen-draper.  (Hard- 
wick and  Co.,  Lawrence-lane 

Lol'tus,  T.,  Leeds,  linen-manufacturer.  (Blake- 
lock  and  Co.,  Serjeant's-: nn  ;  Barr,  Leeds 

Largc.W.,  Kingsbur'y,  tallow-chandler.  (Brooks, 
New  Inn 

Macdonald,  A.,  and  A.  Campbell,  Repent-street, 
army-agents.  (Macdougall  and  Co.,  Parliament- 
street 

Machin,  W.,  Greenwich,  grocer.  (Davis,  Dept- 
ford 

Montcith,  R.,  Glascow  and  Chelsea,  merchant. 
(Crawford,  Lincoln's-inn-tields 

Miller,  G.,  Watling-street,  tallow-chandler. 
(Young  and  Co.,  Mildred's-court 

Murton,  C.,  Gt.  Newport -street,  bookbinder 
(Crosby,  Bucklersbnry 

Moncrief,  J.,  Peckham,  master-mariner.  (Bax- 
indale  and  Co.,  King's-arms-yard 

Nottage,  C.,  Fore-street,  butcher.  (Fyson  and 
Co.,  Lothbury 

Newman,  J  ,  Upper  Clapton,  builder.  (Sut- 
cliffe  and  Co.,  New  Bridge-street 

Ogilvey,  J.,  Totuill-street  and  Bucklersbury, 
cabriolet  -  proprietor.  (Dods,  Northumberland- 
street 

Osbourne,  C.,  Sculcotes,  merchant.  (Rosser 
and  Co.,  Grays-inn  ;  England  and  Co.,  Hull 

Phillips,  J.  and  F.,  jun.,  Derby,  linen  and  wool- 
len-drapers. (Sraithson  and  Co.,  New  Inn  ;  Dun- 
nicliff,  Derby 

Petty,  J..  Manchester,  builder.  (Rodgers, 
Devonshire-square ;  Morris  and  Co.,  Manches- 
ter 

Percival,  J.,  jun.,  Whitechapel,  oilman.  (Os- 
baldeston  and  Co.,  London-street 

Prince,  W.,  Gracechurch-  street,  slop  -seller. 
(Kearsey  and  Co.,  Lothbury 

Prideaux,  J.,  Plymouth,  timber  -  merchant. 
(Blake,  Essex-street;  Prideaux,  Plymouth 

Rowe,  G.,  Shoe-lane,  victualler.  (Young  and 
Co.,  Blackman-strect 

Richardson,  J.,  and  T.  Want,  Barbican,  buil- 
ders. (Kearsey  and  Co.,  Lothbury 

Robson,  E.,  Leeds,  grocer.  (Maxon,  Little 
Friday-street;  Upton  and  Son,  Leeds 

Rose,  E.,  Bath,  linen-draper.  (Clarke  and  Co., 
Lincoln's-inn-fields  ;  Hall,  Bristol 

Rudd,  H.  and  T.,  Ratcliffe-highway,  colour- 
makers.  (Vandercom  and  Co.,  Bush-lane 

Roach,  R.  S.,  Cateaton-street,  cap-manufactu- 
rer. (Nias,  Copthal!-court 

Rickarhy,  W.,  Oxford -street,  linen-draper. 
(Lewis,  Bernard  street 

Ridge,  E.,  Taunton,  tailor.  (Fairbank,  Staple- 
inn 

Riley,  J.,  Almondbnry,  cassinet-manufacturer. 
(Edwards,  Bouverie-street 

Smith,  G.,  Leeds,  commission  -  agent.  (Hard- 
wick and  Co.,  Lawrence  lane  ;  Lee,  Leeds 

Spensley,  J.,  South  Molton-street,  cheesemon- 
ger. (Robinson,  Orchard-street 

Scott,  J.,  Norwich,  Upholder.  (Clarke  and  Co., 
Lincoln's-inn-tields ;  Beckwith,  Norwich 

Scriven.E.,  Clarendon-square,  engraver.  (May- 
.hew  and  Co.,  Carey-street 

Stevenson,  E.,  jun.,  Leicester,  hosier.  (Emly 
and  Co.,  Temple  ;  Robinson  and  Co.,  Leceister 

Simpson, J.,  Nottingham,  wharfinger.  (Knowles, 
New  Inn 

Townsend,  W.,  Parkinson-lane,  Halifax,  mer- 
chant. (Strangwayes  and  Co.,  Barnard's  inn  ; 
Barber,  Brighouse 

Thorington,  H.  J.,  Battle-bridge-wharf,  builder. 
(Teagae,  Lawrence  Pountney-hill 

Taplin,  W.,  Basingstoke,  ironmonger.  (Warne 
and  Co.,  Basingstoke 

Tallctt,  T.,  Birmingham,  hatter,  (Hyde,  Ely- 
place 

Turtill,  J.,  Regent- street,  fancy  warehouse- 
man. (Walford,  Gralton-street 

Vinen,  T.,  Norwich,  woollen. draper.  (Robins, 
Southampton-buildings 


18hO.] 


List  of  Bankrupts. 


'19 


Wheeler,  F.  S.,  Isleworth.  plumber.  (Love- 
land,  Symond's-inn  ;  Farnell,  Isleworth 

Walker,  T.,  Bugbrooke,  victualler.  (Vincent, 
Temple  ;  Cooke,  Northampton 

Wildy,  J.,  Oxford-street,  hatter.  (Hill  and  Co., 
Welbeek-street 

Whitley,  R.,  Gt.  Russel-street,  builder.  (Gads- 
den,  Fiirniral's-inn 

White,  J.,  Linton,  miller.  (Church,  Gt.  James- 
street  ;  Pateshall  and  Co.,  Hereford 

Woodbine,  II.,  Isle  of  Ely,  carpenter.  (Pick- 
ering and  Co.,  Lincoln's -inn  ;  Evans  and  Co.,  Ely. 


Wilcocks,  K.,  Exeter,  linen-draper.  (Turner, 
P.liiman-sireet ;  Turner,  Exeter 

Watson,  G.,  Emley,  tanner.  (Preston,  Token - 
house-yard  ;  Pickard,  Wakefield 

W alley,  T.,  Manchester,  grocer.  (Hurd  and 
Co.,  Temple;  Hitchcock,  Manchester 

Whiteley,  W.  H.,  Rosamon-atreet,  stove-grato- 
manufacturer.  (('lift  and  Co.,  Red  Lion-square. 

Woodhead,  A.,  Salford,  common-brewer.  (Ad- 
lintftmi  and  Co.,  Bedford-row 

Williams,  W.,  Manchester,  merchant.  (Makin- 
son  and  Co.,  Temple. 


ECCLESIASTICAL  PREFERMENTS. 


Rev.  E.  Burn,  to  the  Rectory  of 
Smethcott,  Salop.— Rev.  W.  B.  White- 
head,  to  the  vacant  Prebendal  Stall  of 

Ilton,  Wells Rev.  T.  Boultbee,  to  the 

Vicarage  of  Bidford  and  Priors  Salford, 
Warwick. — Rev.  F.  Parry,  to  the  per- 
petual Curacy  of  St.  Paul,  Boughton, 
Cheshire.— Rev.  G.  Gilbert,  to  the  Vi- 
carage of  Syston,  near  Grantham. — Rev. 
J.  Stedman,  to  the  Vicarage  of  Gosfield, 
Essex.-- Rev.  J.  Morton,  to  the  Rec- 
tory of  Stockleigh,  Pomeroy. — Rev.  N. 
T.  Royce,  to  the  Rectory  of  Dunter- 
ton,  Devon. — Rev.  C.  Tripp,  to  the 
Rectory  of  Kentisbeare.— Rev.  J.  L. 
Hesse,  to  the  Rectory  of  Knebworth, 
Herts. — Rev.  J.  Jenkins,  to  the  Rec- 
tory of  Llangua,  Monmouth. — Rev.  T. 
Davies,  to  the  perpetual  Curacy  of 
Llanfihangeluch  -  Gwilly,  Carmarthen. 
— Rev.  J.  Tyrwhitt,  to  the  new  Chapel 
of  St.  George.  Claines — Rev.  C.  Boult- 
bee, to  the  Rectory  of  Blockborough, 
and  of  Bondleigh,  Devon.  —  Rev.  J. 
Jarrett,  to  the  Vicarage  of  North  Cave- 
cum  Cliffe,  York.— Rev.  C.  Mann,  to 
the  perpetual  Curacy  of  Fordham,  Nor- 
folk.—Rev.  C.  Whitcombe,  to  the  Vi- 
carage of  Great  Sherston,  with  Chapelrv 
of  Alderton,  Wilts.— Rev.  C.  Dodsoii, 
to  be  Chaplain  to  Countess  Craven. — 
Rev.  W.  Wood,  to  the  Rectory  of 


Coulsdon,  Surrey. — Rev.  W.  Gilbee,  to 

the  Vicarage  of  St.  Issey,  Cornwall 

Rev.  W.  Gresswell,  to  the  Rectory  of 
Duloe,  Cornwall. — Rev.  H  Lindsay,  to 
the  Vicarage  of  Croydon,  Surrey. — Rev. 
J.  Clarke,  to  the  Vicarage  of  Ilkley, 
York. — Rev.  J.  Jones,  to  the  Curacy  of 
St.  Peter  and  Llangunnor,  Carmarthen. 
— Rev.  A.  H.  Richardson,  to  the  per- 
petual Curacy  of  Llandhythen,  Pem- 
broke.—  Rev.  E.  Dowker,  to  the  Vi- 
carage of  Willerby,  near  Scarborough. — 
Rev.  J.  Tyley,  to  the  Rectory  of  Cley- 
don  cum  Akenham,  Suffolk. — 'Hon.  and 
Rev.  G.  Best,  to  the  Rectory  of  Blan- 
forcl  St.  Mary,  Dorset. — Rev.  J.  Ford, 
to  the  Vicarage  of  Navestock,  Essex.  — 
Rev.  F.  B.  Astley,  to  the  Rectory  of 
Everleigh —  Rev.  P.  Lowther,  to  the 
Curacy  of  Cohampton,  Hants. — Rev. 
G.  B.  Clare,  to  the  new  Church  St. 
George,  Wolverhampton. — Rev.  T.  C. 
W.  Seymour,  to  the  Vicarage  of  Lod- 
don. — Rev.  J.  Hensman,  to  the  Curacy 
of  Trinity  new  church,  Clifton,  Bristol. 
— Rev.  J.  G.  Thring,  to  the  Rectory  of 
Bishops  Stow,  Wilts.— Rev.  T.  Tur- 
ton,  to  the  Prebendal  Stall  in  Peter- 
borough cathedral. — Rev.  E.  Hughes, 
to  the  Hard  wick  Rectory,  Northampton. 
— Rev.  C.  Hayes,  to  'the  Rectory  of 
North  Stoke,  Somerset. 


CHRONOLOGY,  MARRIAGES,  DEATHS,  ETC. 


CHRONOLOGY. 


Nov.  1..  Mr.  John  St.  John  Long  sen- 
tenced at  the  Old  Bailey  for  manslaugh- 
ter in  the  fine  of  £250. 

2.  His  Majesty  in  the  House  of  Peers, 
delivered  the  following  most  gracious 
speech  to  both  Houses  of  Parliament : 

My  Lords  and  Gentlemen, — It  is  with  great 
satisfaction  that  I  meet  you  in  Parliament,  and 
that  I  am  enabled,  in  the  present  conjuncture,  to 
recur  to  your  advice.  Since  the  dissolution  of  the 
late  Parliament,  events  of  deep  interest  and  im- 
portance have  occurred  on  the  continent  of 
Europe.  The  elder  branch  of  the  Hou*e  of 
Bourbon  no  longer  reigns  in  France,  and  the 
Duke  of  Orleans  has  been  called  to  the  throne  by 
the  title  of  King  of  the  French.  Having  received 
from  the  new  sovereign  a  declaration  of  his  earnest 
desire  to  cultivate  the  good  understanding,  and 
to  maintain  inviolate  all  the  engagements  sub- 


siting  with  this  country,  Idid  not  hesitate  to 
continue  my  diplomatic  relations  and  friendly 
intercourse  with  the  French  Court.— I  have  wit- 
nessed with  deep  regret  the  state  of  affairs  in  the 
Low  Countries.  I  lament  that  the  enlightened 
administration  of  the  King  should  not  have  pre- 
served his  dominions  from  revolt ;  and  that  the 
wise  and  prudent  measure  of  submitting  the  de- 
sires and  the  complaints  of  his  people  to  the 
deliberations  of  an  extraordinary  meeting  of  the 
States  General  should  have  led  to  no  satisfactory 
result.  I  am  endeavouring,  in  concert  with  my 
allies,  to  devise  such  means  of  restoring  tran- 
quillity as  may  be  compatible  with  the  welfare 
and  good  government  of  the  Netherlands,  and  with 
the  future  security  of  other  states. — Appearances 
of  tumult  and  disorder  have  produced  uneasiness 
in  different  parts  of  Europe  ;  but  the  assurances 
of  a  friendly  disposition,  which  I  continue  to 
receive  trom  all  foreign  powers,  justify  the  expec- 
tation that  I  shall  be  enabled  to  preserve  for  my 
people  the  blessings  of  Peace.  —  Impressed  at 
all  times  with  The  necessity  of  respecting  the 
faith  of  national  engagements,  I  am  persuaded 
that  my  determination  to  maintain,  in  conjunction 


720 


Chronology. 


[DEC. 


with  my  allies,  those  general  treaties  by  whicli 
the  political  system  oY  Europe  has  been  e*ta- 
hli-tu'd,  will  ollVr  the  best  security  lor  the  repose 
of  the  world. — I  have  not  yet  accredited  my  am- 
bassador to  the  Court  of  Lisbon ;  but  the  Por- 
tuguese Government  having  determined  to  per- 
form  a  great  act  of  justice  and  humanity,  by  the 
grant  of  a  general  amnesty,  I  think  that  the  time 
may  shortly "arrive  when  the  interests  of  my  sub- 
jects will  demand  a  renewal  of  those  relations 
which  have  so  long  existed  between  the  two 
countries. — I  am  impelled,  by  the  deep  solicitude 
which  I  feel  for  the  welfare  of  my  people,  to  re- 
commend to  your  immediate  consideration  the 
provisions  which  it  may  be  advisable  to  make  for 
the  exercise  of  the  royal  authority,  in  case  that  it 
should  please  .Almighty  God  to  terminate  my  life 
before  my  successor  shall  have  arrived  at  years 
of  maturity.  I  shall  be  prepared  to  concur  with 
you  in  the  adoption  of  those  measures  which  may 
appear  best  calculated  to  maintain  unimpaired 
the  stability  and  dignity  of  the  Crown,  and 
thereby  to  strengthen  the  securities  by  which 
the  civil  and  religious  liberties  of  my  people  are 
guarded. 

Gentlemen  of  the  House  of  Commons, — I  have 
ordered  the  estimates  for  those  services  of  the 
present  year,  for  which  the  last  Parliament  did 
not  fully  provide,  to  be  forthwith  laid  before 
you.  The  estimates  for  the  ensuing  year  will  be 
prepared  with  that  strict  regard  to  economy 
which  I  am  determined  to  enforce  in  every  branch 
of  the  public  expenditure.  By  the  demise  of  my 
lamented  brother,  the  late  King,  the  CivilList  reve- 
nue has  expired.  I  place  without  reserve  at  your 
disposal  my  interest  in  the  hereditary  revenues, 
and  in  thos,>  funds  which  may  be  derived  from 
any  droits  of  the  Crown  or  Admiralty,  from  the 
West  India  duties,  or  from  any  casual  revenues, 
either  in  my  foreign  possessions  or  in  the  United 
Kingdom.  In  surrendering  to  you  my  interest  in 
revenues  which  have  in  former  settlements  of  the 
civil  list  been  reserved  to  the  Crown,  I  rejoice  in 
th«  opportunity  of  evincing  my  entire  reliance 
on  your  dutiful  attachment,  and  my  confidence 
that  you  will  cheerfully  provide  all  that  may  be 
necessary  for  the  support  of  the  civil  govern- 
ment, and  the  honour  and  dignity  of  my  crown. 

My  Lords  and  Gentlemen, — I  deeply  lament 
that  in  some  districts  of  the  country  the  property 
of  my  subjects  has  been  endangered  by  combina- 
tions for  the  destruction  of  machinery  ;  and  that 
serious  losses  have  been  sustained  through  the 
acts  of  wicked  incendiaries.  I  cannot  view  with- 
out grief  and  indignation  the  efforts  which  are 
industriously  made  to  excite  among  my  people  a 
spirit  of  discontent  and  disaffection,  and  to  disturb 
the  concord  which  happily  prevails  between  those 
parts  of  my  dominions,  the  union  of  which  is 
essential  to  their  common  strength  and  common 
happiness.  I  am  determined  to  exert  to  the 
utmost  of  my  power  all  the  means  which  the  law 
and  the  constitution  have1  placed  at  my  disposal, 
for  the  punishment  of  sedition,  and  for  the  prompt 
suppression  of  outrage  and  disorder.  Amidst  all 
the  difficulties  of  the  present  conjuncture,  I  reflect 
with  the  highest  satisfaction  on  the  loyalty  and 
affectionate  attachment  of  the  great  body  of  my 
people.  I  am  confident  that  they  justly  appre- 
ciate the  full  advantage  of  that  happy  form  of 
§>vernment,  under  which,  through  the  favour  of 
ivine  Providence,  this  country  has  enjoyed  for  a 
long  succession  of  years  a  greater  share  of  inter- 
nal peace,  of  commercial  prosperity,  of  true 
liberty,  of  all  that  constitutes  social  happiness, 
than  has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  any  other  country  of 
the  world.  It  is  the  great  object  of  my  life  to 
preserve  these  blessings  to  my  people,  and  to 
transmit  them  unimpaired  to  posterity  ;  and  I  am 
animated  in  the  discharge  of  the  sacred  duty 
which  is  committed  to  me,  by  the  firmest  reliance 
on  the  wisdom  of  Parliament,  and  on  the  cordial 
support  of  my  faithful  and  loyal  subjects. 

Nov.  2.  The  Duke  of  Wellington, 
premier  of  England,  said  in  the  House 
of  Peers,  "  No  improvement  could  he 
made  in  the  present  system  of  repre- 


sentation ;  and  if  he  were  going  to  form 
a  representation  for  a  new  country,  he 
would  take  for  his  model  that  of  Eng- 
land as  it  now  is"  !  !  ! 

Nov.  5.  The  Recorder  made  his  report 
to  his  Majesty  of  the  18  prisoners  capi- 
tally convicted  at  the  last  September 
sessions,  when  one  only  was  ordered  for 
execution. 

—  Mr.  Hume  moved  (House  of  Com- 
mons) for  a  return  of  the  sums  paid  to 
the  king's  printer  for  the  last  ten  years, 
and   an   account  of  the  printing  work- 
done,  and  a  copy  of  the  patent  by  which 
he  was  appointed ;  he  stated  that  a  com- 
mittee, in  1810,  had  recommended  that 
the  patent  should  not  be  renewed,  and 
that  a  saving  of  40  per  cent,  might  be 
made  by  getting  the  printing  performed 
in  a  different  way.     He  read  an  extract 
from  the  charges  made  in  one  year,  one 
was  "  Prayers  for  a  general  fast,<£997" ! ! ! 
Motion  agreed  to. 

7-  The  King's  visit  to  the  Lord 
Mayor's  dinner  put  otf  by  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  and  Sir  Itobert  Peel,  for 
"  fear  of  confusion  and  tumult,  and  pos- 
sibly bloodshed !  !  !" 

9.  Alderman  Key  sworn  into  the  office 
of  Lord  Mayor  at  Westminster  Hall  in 
private.  There  Avas  not  the  least  pa- 
rade ;  even  the  sheriffs  went  together 
in  a  private  carriage  ;  such  a  Lord 
Mayor's  day  was  never  before  wit- 
nessed ;  there  was  neither  dinner  at 
Guildhall  nor  Mansion  House,  nor  any 
kind  of  show,  "for  fear  01  endangering 
the  properties  and  the  lives  of  his  Ma- 
jesty's subjects"  !  ! 

—  Mobs  assembled  round  the  House 
of  Lords,  Farringdon-street,   Ludgate- 
hill,  Blackfriars'-bridge,  ChiswelL  street, 
Barbican,  Whitechapel,  and  other  places. 
Some   of  them   had   tri-coloured   flags. 
They  all  separated  without  doing  much 
mischief. 

11.  One  culprit  executed  at  the  Old 
Bailey. 

12.  Verdict  of  manslaughter  against 
Mr.  John  St.  John  Long,  given  by  the 
jury  on  the  coroner's  inquest   on   the 
body  of  Mrs.  Colin  Campbell  Lloyd,  of 
Knightsbridge,  whose  death  was  alleged 
to  have  been  occasioned  by  the  treat- 
ment experienced  from  that  person. 

13.  Information   received   from    the 
King's  Ambassador  at  the  Hague,  that 
the   King  of  the  Netherlands   had  de- 
clared the  ports  of  West  Flanders,  in- 
cluding Antwerp  and  Ghent,  to  be  in  q, 
state  of  blockade. 

15.  Motion  made  in  the  House  of 
Commons  for  forming  a  committee  to 
examine  the  Minister's  State  of  the  Civil 
List,  and  carried  by  a  majority  of  29 
against  the  minister ;  233  having  voted 
for  it,  and  204  against  it. 

—  Several  resolutions  passed  at  the 
Common  Council  of  the  city  of  London, 


1830.] 


Chronology,  Marriages,  and  Deaths. 


and  petitions  founded  on  them  to  both 
Houses  of  Parliament,  praying  them  to 
institute  a  full  and  faithful  inquiry  into 
the  state  of  the  representation  with  a 
view  to  the  remedying  of  such  defects 
therein,  as  time  and  various  encroach- 
ments have  produced. 

16.  Duke  of  Wellington  in  the  House 
of  Lords,  and  Sir  Robert  Peel  in  the 
Commons,  gave  notice  that  his  Majesty 
had  accepted  their  resignation  as  minis- 
ters ! 

22.  Earl  Grey  appointed  First  Lord 
of  the  Treasury.  —  Lord  Brougham, 
Lord  High  Chancellor.  —  Marquis  of 
Lansdowne,  Lord  President  of  the 
Council.— Lord  Durham,  Lord  Privy 
Seal.— Viscount  Melbourne,  Secretary 
of  State  for  Home  Department. — Vis- 
count Palmerston,  Secretary  of  State 
for  Foreign  Affairs. — Viscount  Goderich, 
Secretary  of  State  for  Colonial  Depart- 
ment.—  Viscount  Althorp,  Chancellor 
of  Exchequer. — Sir  T.  Denman,  Attor- 
ney-General.—  Mr.  Home,  Solicitor- 
General.  —  Sir  James  Graham,  First 
Lord  of  the  Admiralty. — Right  Hon. 
C.  Grant,  President  of  the  Board  of  Con- 
trol.— Lord  Auckland,  President  of  the 
Board  of  Trade,  and  Master  of  the  Mint. 
— Lord  Holland,  Chancellor  of  the 
Duchy  of  Lancaster. — Marquis  of  An- 
glesea,  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland. — 
Duke  of  Richmond,  Postmaster-Gene- 
ral.— Earl  of  Albemarle,  Master  of  the 
Horse.— Marquis  of  Wellesley,  Lord 
Steward — Mr.  R.  Grant,  Judge-Adyo- 
cate-General. — Hon.  Agar  Elhs,  First 
Commissioner  of  Woods  and  Forests — 
Lord  John  Russell,  Paymaster-General. 
—Hon.  E.  G.  T.  Stanley,  Secretary  for 
Ireland. — Mr.  P.  Thomson,  Vice-Presi- 
dent of  Board  of  Trade.— Sir  W.  Gor- 
don, Master  »  General  of  Ordnance. — 
Viscount  Anson,  Master  of  Buck- 
hounds. — Lord  Burghersh  is  appointed 
Envoy  Extraordinary  to  the  Court  of 
Naples— the  Hon.  J.  D.  Bligh,  Secre- 
tary of  Embassy  at  the  Hague — Mr. 
Parish,  Sec.  of  Legation  in  Greece — Lord 
A.  M.  C.  Hill,  Sec.  at  Constantinople. 

23.  A  Meeting  of  West  India  Proprie- 
tors was  held  at  the  Thatched-House, 
when  Petitions  to  the  King  and  both 
Houses  of  Parliament,  in  favour  of  the 
West  India  interests,  were  moved  and 

adopted.  

MARRIAGES. 

At  Willy  Park,  Earl  of  Chesterfield, 
to  Hon.  Anne  Elizabeth,  sister  to  Lord 
Forester,  and  niece  to  Duke  of  Rutland. 


— B.  Granville,  esq.,  to  Anne  Catherine, 
daughter  of  Admiral  Sir  Hyde  Parker, 
bart.  — Lieutenant-Colonel  J.  D'Arcy, 
to  Miss  Catherine  Lucy  Eliza  Hyde — 
J.  Labouchere,  esq.,  to  Miss  Mary 
Louisa  Du  Pre. — J.  Stirling,  esq.,  to 
Susannah,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late 
Lieutenant-General  C.  Barton. 

DEATHS. 

J.  Buller,  esq.,  clerk  of  the  Privy 
Council.  —  Lieutenant  T.  D.  Brand, 
R.N. ;  had  travelled  across  the  Andes, 
and  lately  published  an  interesting  ac- 
count of  his  journey Lieut.  J.  H. 

Davidson,  Royal  Marines,  who  had 
served  seventeen  years  as  a  second  lieu- 
tenant.— In  Regent's  Park,  T.  Kinnear, 
esq. — At  Bath,  Hon.  Lady  Horton,  re- 
lict of  Sir  W.  Horton,  bart. —  Hon. 
Captain  Anson,  fourth  son  of  the  late 
Lord  Anson.— Sir  W.  A.  Brown,  bart., 
CC — Lady  Elizabeth  Pepys,  relict  of 
Sir  W.  W.  Pepys,  bart.— Hon.  Eliza- 
beth Ryder Dowager  Lady  Simeon.— 

R.  Barclay,  esq.,  80,  Dorking — Lady 
D.  B.  Lennard,  wife  of  Sir  T.  B.  Len- 
nard,  bart. — Dowager  Lady  Young,  91 
— At  Ashburnham-place,  Earl  of  Ash- 
burnham. — At  Cheltenham,  Hon.  Char- 
lotte Juliana  Smith.— At  Little  Chelsea, 
Sir  W.  A.  Brown,  bart.— At  Wentworth 
House,  Lady  Charlotte  Milton — At 
Walthamstow,  Sir  Robert  Wigram, 
bart.,  87- —  At  Bildesten,  Captain  E. 
Rotherham,  78,  who  commanded  the 
Royal  Sovereign  in  the  battle  of  Tra- 
falgar.—At  Blackheath,  Major-General 
Sir  C.  P.  Belson.— At  Kilmun,  Isle  of 
Skye,  Lieutenant  Soirle  Macdonald,  aged 
10G.  He  has  left  three  children  under 
ten  years  of  age. — At  Wood-End,  near 
Keswick,  Margaret,  widow  of  Mr. 
Thomas  Douglas,  aged  90  ;  when  a  child 
she  resided  at  Leith  with  her  father, 
who  was  a  manager  of  a  glass-house 
there,  and  Charles  Stuart,  the  Pretender, 
and  some  of  his  followers,  being  shewn 
through  the  works,  Charles  presented 
the  deceased  with  half-a-crown,  at  the 
same  time  clapping  her  on  the  head  and 
calling  her  "  a  fine  little  boy  /"  She 
preserved  all  her  faculties  to  the  last, 
and  frequently  told  this  history. 

DEATHS  ABROAD. 

At  Naples,  the  King  of  Naples.— In 
Silesia,  Field  Marshal  Count  Von 
Yorck  Wurtemberg. — At  Nice,  Alger- 
non Percy,  Earl  of  Beverley. — At  Leg- 
horn, Lady  Forbes. 


MONTHLY  PROVINCIAL  OCCURRENCES 


DURHAM At  a  general  meeting 

of  the  inhabitants  of  Stanhope,  held  15th 
October,  to  consider  the  propriety  of  a 

M.M.  New  Series VOL.  X.  No.  60. 


Petition   to  the   Throne,    praying  the 
security  of  their  Religious  Rights  and 
Spiritual  Privileges,  C.  Rippon,  Esq.  m 
4  Y 


722 


Provincial  Occurrences  :  Lancashire, 


[DEC. 


the  chair,  the  following  address  was 
unanimously  agreed  to  : — "  To  the  King's 
Most  Excellent  Majesty.  Sire  —  We, 
your  Majesty's  loyal  and  dutiful  sub- 
jects, inhabitants  of  the  parish  of  Stan- 
hope, in  the  county  of  Durham,  approach 
your  paternal  throne,  with  reverence 
and  love.  To  our  King  we  declare  our 
grievance — from  the  Father  of  his  Peo- 
ple, we  seek  redress.  With  doubt  and 
regret,  we  have  heard  the  declaration  of 
our  rector,  Henry  Phillpotts,  Doctor  in 
Divinity,  that  the  tithe  of  this  parish, 
affording  a  temporal  remuneration  of  the 
services  of  its  priest  of  £4,000  a  year,  is 
to  be  enjoyed  by  him,  conjointly  with 
the  Bishopric  of  Exeter,  and  the  spiritual 
care  of  12,000  inhabitants  delegaced  to 
a  hirling  !  !  !  — We  humbly  represent  to 
your  Majesty,  that  a  parish  so  populous, 
paying  so  largely  for  religious  assistance, 
might  claim  the  advantages  of  a  resident 
pastor.  We  submit  the  utter  impossi- 
bility of  a  bishop  in  Devonshire  having 
ability  to  discharge  his  duties  in  Dur- 
ham ; — we  submit  that  prebendal  stalls, 
and  other  religious  sinecures,  should 
alone  be  afforded  to  create  revenues  for 
the  heads  of  the  church  ; — we  declare  the 
cure  of  souls  to  be  a  duty  of  eternal  mo- 
ment, which  cannot  be  delegated,  with- 
out awful  responsibility — which  cannot 
be  sacrificed  to  present  considerations, 
without  fearful  daring  of  future  ac- 
count !  ! ! — We  invoke  your  Majesty, 
as  the  head  of  our  church,  graciously  to 
consider  our  prayer  ;  and  if  expediency 
should  require  the  elevation  of  our  pre- 
sent minister  to  the  episcopal  bench, 
that  your  royal  prerogative  may  also 
secure  to  us  a  resident  rector,  whose 
undivided  help  may  constantly  be  given, 
in  exchange  for  the  secular  advantages 
of  this  richly  endowed  benefice  !  !  !" 

LANCASHIRE The  commission- 
ers of  watch,  scavengers,  and  lamps,  of 
the  parish  of  Liverpool,  have  published 
their  account  of  the  expences  for  last 
year  from  Sept.  29,  1829,  to  Sept.  29, 
1830,  which  amounts  to  £18,435.  19s.  !— 
The  surveyors  of  highways  have  also 
published  their  account  for  the  same 
parish,  amounting  to  £11,313.  10s.  6d. 
from  Michaelmas,  1829,  to  July  15, 
1830. 


^  WESTMORELAND.  —  The  ex- 
penses for  this  county  from  June  23, 

*-' .'  1829,  to  June  22,  1830,  amount  to 
£3,170.  6s.  9d.— about  £2,000  of  which 
was  for  law  and  its  contingencies — the 
county  bridges  and  roads  at  the  ends 


thereof,  £411.  5s.  5id. 

LINCOLNSHIRE.— A  meeting  of 
the  electors  of  Stamford  to  petition  the 
King,  and  the  two  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment, on  certain  circumstances  relating 
to  the  late  election  for  that  borough,  and 


to  secure  to  themselves  a  free  and  effi- 
cient representation  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  has  taken  place.  Ten  reso- 
lutions were  unanimously  agreed  to,  and 
the  Duke  of  Sussex  and  Lord  Holland 
were  requested  to  lay  a  petition  before 
the  King ;  and  Earl  Grey  and  C.  Ten- 
nyson, Esq.,  before  the  Houses  of  Lords 
and  Commons.  The  seventh  resolution 
states,  "  that  the  Marquis  of  Exeter 
did  by  his  agents,  illegally  and  uncon- 
stitutionally, interfere  with  the  election 
by  influencing  several  electors  to  vote 
for  his  own  relations ;  and  afterwards, 
when  the  election  was  over,  gave  notice 
to  electors,  being  his  tenants,  who  voted 
contrary  to  his  desires,  to  quit  the  tene- 
ments held  under  him." — Lincoln  and 
Stamford  Mercury. 

GLOUCESTERSHIRE.— Colston's 

Anniversary  was  celebrated,  13  Nov.,  at 
Bristol,  with  the  usual  demonstrations 
of  respect  and  veneration,  in  honour  of 
the  memory  of  that  philanthropist.  The 
Dolphin  Society  met  their  president  at 
the  cathedral ;  and  at  their  dinner  the 
collection  amounted  to  £340.  The  An- 
chor Society  met  their  president  at  the 
Merchants'  Hall,  where  dinner  was  pro- 
vided, and  the  collection  amounted  to 
£540.  11s.  Cd.  The  Grateful  Society's 
collection  amounted  to  £440.  10s.  6d. 

NORFOLK.  — At  the  last  meeting 
(Oct.  22)  of  the  Justices  in  the  Grand 
Jury  Chamber  the  Prison  Report  was 
made,  when  Colonel  Harvey  declared 
that  the  cause  of  crime  was  want  of 
labour,  and,  after  detailing  the  number 
of  prisoners  in  the  jail,  lamented  the 
great  increase  of  the  poor's  rate  in  the 
county,  stating  it  to  amount  to  more 
than  £600,000  !  !  Within  the  last  20 
years  it  had  increased  £100,000 ! !  ! 
1  The  labourer  only  received  2s.  6d.  a 
'  week,"  said  he  ;  "I  consider  the  poor 
'  man's  labour  his  property,  and  when 
'he  receives  merely  2s.  6d.  for  that 
'  which  ought  to  be  10s.,  I  cannot  help  de- 
'  signating  it  as  a  species  of  legal  swind- 
4  l}ng  ! !  !" — The  learned  chairman  (Mr. 
Weyland)  stated,  that  he  had  lately  seen 
in  this  county  a  Mr.  Benning,  the'agent 
of  the  Dowager  Empress  of  Russia,  who 
was  surprised  at  seeing  in  the  gaol  wo- 
men with  infant  children  at  their  breasts, 
and  inquired,  "  Whether  the  country 
"  was  in  such  a  state  as  to  render  it 
"  necessary  to  send  Women,  so  situated, 
"  to  prison  ?  !  !  !" 

OXFORDSHIRE.— By  an  abstract 
account  of  receipts  and  expenditure  of 
the  commissioners  of  the  Oxford  light- 
ing and  paving  acts,  it  appears  that  the 
sum  of  £3,088.  19s.  7d-  was  expended 
for  that  town  between  Oct.  27,  1829,  and 
Oct.  28, 1830. 


INDEX 

TO 

VOL.  X. 
ORIGINAL    PAPERS,  &c. 


Pare 

AFFAIRS  of  British  India 65 

Naval  of  Great  Britain  57 

Abolition  of  Slavery 76 

Administrations,  the  Wellington  and  Grey   617 

Agricultural  Reports 128,  241,  360,  488,  607,  715 

Arts'  (Fine)  Exhibitions .109,  236,  353,  477,  601,  707 

Arch  Druid,  the 265 

Aquatic  Pastoral 320 

Aphorisms  on  Man 445,  572,  630 

Adventures  in  Colombia 513 

Book-keeping,  on  .. 20 

Barbary,  a  Visit  to  1 50 

Biographical  Memoirs  of  Eminent  Persons   114,  240,  356,  483,  606 

iBower,  the 219 

Bankrupts 130,  243,  363,  490,  610,  717 

Bull,  Sir  John  de  , 321 

Byron,  Lord,  and  John  Gait  399 

Ballad  a  la  Bayley 439 

Behaviour  of  Talleyrand 529 

Cabinet,  the  Horse-Guards' 13 

Campaign  of  the  Spanish  Constitutionalists 671 

Ceuta,  Spanish  Presidio  on  the  Coast  of  Barbary  50 

Cane,  the  Sugar 74 

Country,  Voice  of  the 76 

Commercial  Reports 129,  243,  362,.  490,  609,716 

Chronology,  Marriages,  Deaths,  &c 132,  245,  364,  492,  612,  719 

Colombia  : : 153 

Constant's  Memoirs  of  Buonaparte  ....? ' 173 

Court  of  Charles  IV.  of  Spain  187 

Clarkson  and  Montgomery 201 

Confession  and  Roguery 304 

City,  the  Golden 385 

Chapter  on  Editors,  by  the  late  William  Hazlitt 509 

Condition  of  the  Country 545 

Constantinople,  a  Week  at  666 

Dead,  Tales  of  the 35 

Druid,  the  Arch 265 

Dream,  Father  Murphy's 427 

Demon  of  Drury-lane    556 

Demon  (the)  Ship 633 

Europe,  and  the  Horse-Guards'  Cabinet .'. 13 

Ecclesiastical  Preferments 132,  245,  363,492,611,719 

Eve  of  St.  Simon 153 

Europe  and  King  of  the  French  369 

England  and  Europe 497 

French  Revolution  of  1830 r  249 

Four  Years  in  the  West  Indies 305 

France  and  Miladi  Morgan 441 

France,  Wellington,  and  Europe 369 

'First  (my)  Lord  Mayor's  Show 505 

George  the  Fourth 9 

Great  Britain's  Naval  Affairs  ..  57 


INDEX. 

Pagce 

Generation,  the  Rising  289 

Gait  and  Byron  399 

Haiti,  Notes  on  305 

Hazlitt's  Aphorisms 445,  572,  630 

India,  Affairs  of. 65 

Ireland,  State  of 144 

Intrigue,  Royal 187 

India,  West,  Sinners  561 

Irish  Priest  and  his  Niece 414 

Illustrious  Obscure 556 

King  William  the  Fourth.. 137 

King  of  the  French 369 

Last  Words  of  the  Men  at  St.  Dunstan's  *711 

Letters  on  the  West  India  Question 685 

List  of  New  and  Expiring  Patents 114,240,  359,  482,  605 

Love,  Law,  and  Physic  in  Barbary  292 

Light  and  Shadow 403 

Leone,  Sierra,  Saints 561 

Monthly  Review  of  Literature 97,  225,  341,465,  589,  697 

Memoirs  of  Buonaparte 173 

Montgomery's  Poems 201 

March  of  Mind  289 

Musing  Musician  404 

Murray,  Sir  George,  and  Sectaries 418 

Murphy's,  Father,  Dream 427 

Marriage  a  la  Mode  447 

Man,  Aphorisms  on 445,  572 

Malcontent,  the  522 

Malt-ese  Melody 543 

Modern  Tantalus  556 

Moscow,  and  the  Provinces , 566 

Naval  Affairs  57 

Notes  of  the  Month,  on  Affairs  in  General 89,  222,  327,  449,  577,  *688 

Netherlands,  the ...... 434 

One,  the  Unearthly 537 

Paragraphs  on  Prejudice 409 

Provincial  Occurrences 133,246,365,  493,613,721 

Physic  in  Barbary 292 

Pastoral,  Aquatic , 320 

Prospects  of  the  Country 545 

Quackery  Practice,  and  St.  John  Long 656 

Recollections  of  a  Valetudinarian 25 

Royal  Intrigue  187 

Revolution,  French.. 249 

Rising  Generation 289 

Republican  Perfidy 513 

Satan  and  his  Satellites  424 

St.  Simon  in  Colombia 153 

Sleeper,  the 521 

Singular  Smith 167 

Stanzas  on  Tobacco  263 

Sonnet  on  Eton  College 319 

Separation,  the 326 

Tale  of  the  Thames 320 

Visit  to  Tangiers 538 

Vauxhall  View 219 

Winds,  the  Spirits  of  the   150 

Works  in  the  Press  and  New  Publications Ill,  238,  354,  479,  603,712 

West  Indies 76,  305,  418,  561,  685 

Wellington,  the  Administration  of  the  Duke  of 13,  249,  369,497,  617 

Winter,  the  Coming  of. 683 


INDEX  TO  WORKS  REVIEWED. 


Page 
ALEXANDER     Alexander's    Life   of 

Himself 227 

Alexander's    Travels   to   the  Seat    of 

War  in  the  East 589 

Bannister's  Humane  Policy 107 

Bentley  (Life  of),  by  Dr.  Monk  ....  195 
Brady's  Executor's  Account-Book  . .  114 
Eland's  Philosophical  Problems  ....  115 
Bunyan,  Southey's  Life  of  John  ....  225 
Bayley's  History  and  Antiquities  of 

the  Tower  of  London    229 

Boyd's  Guide  and  Pocket  Companion 

through  Italy 230 

Bell's  Universal  Mechanism 234 

Buckhardt's  Arab  Proverbs 348 

British  Naturalist 350 

Bourke's  O'Donoghue    474 

Bernard's  Retrospections  of  the  Stage  594 
Britton's  Dictionary  of  the  Architecture 

and    Archaeology    of   the     Middle 

Ages    596 

Brown's   Sketches  and   Anecdotes  of 

Horses 596 

Bigsby's  Imilda  de'  Lambertazzi  ....   597 

Camden,  a  Tale  of  the  South 701 

Clark's  Influence  of  Climate 110 

Coleridge's  Introduction  to  the  Study 

of  the  Greek  Classic  Poets Ill 

Cabinet  Cyclopzedia    111,344 

Cabinet  Album 350 

Cunningham's  Lives  of  Artists 112 

Crocker's  Poems 473 

Chattaway's  Danmonii   475 

Cruickshank's  Tales  of  other  Days    . .   476 

Cuvier's  Animal  Kingdom    595 

Chamber's  Book  of  Scotland 598 

Crowe's  History  of  France 703 

Croly's  Life  of  George  IV 698 

Deakin's  Deliverance  of  Switzerland . .   346 

Doyle's  Irish  Cottagers 349 

De  1'Orme 465 

Dalrymple's  Memoirs 466 


Derwentwater 469 

Downing's  Bride  of  Sicily 593 

Exodus,  or  the  Curse  of  Egypt 233 

Elwood's  Journey  Overland  from  Eng- 
land to  India  591 

Encyclopasdia  Britannica   595 

Entertaining  Knowledge,  Library  of,  600 
Encyclopedia  Britannica,   Part  VIII.  704 

Family  Cabinet  Atlas    103 

Felton's  Portraits    234 

Family  Library 112,  347,  468 

Featherstonhaugh's  Death  of  Ugolino  467 
Grant's    Lord    Byron's    Cain,     with 

Notes   ,  ,. 465 

Gleig's  British  India 468 

Gait's  Southennan 469 

Grattan's  Heiress  of  Bruges 590 

Griffith's  Additions  to  Cuvier's  Ani- 
mal Kingdom 595 

Hughs's  Divines    of   the   Church   of 

England 109 

Hampson's  Short  Treatise  on  Liabili- 
ties of  Trustees   115 

Hardey's  Irish  Guide 472 

Ingram's  Matilda   : 599 

Kennedy's    Conversations   with  Lord 

Byron 341 

Leigh's  Guide  to  the  Lakes 114 

Lauder's  Account  of  the  Great  Floods  345 

Lamb's  Album  Verses 349 

Library  of  Entertaining  Knowledge  ..   600 

Lyell's  Geology  700 

Main's  Villa  and  Cottage  Directory. .   115 

Macfarlane's  Armenians    228 

Milman's  Appendix  to  his  History  of 

the  Jews 233 

Murray's  Natural  History 343 

Atmospherical  Electricity. .  344 

Mackintosh's  History  of  England. ...      ib. 
Murray's  Life  and  Correspondence  . .   595 
Maxwell,  by  the  Author  of  Sayings  and 
Doings 705 


INDEX. 


Page 

Murphy's  Rudiments  of  Gravity    (100 

Parry's  Anthology 359 

Porter's  Barony 466 

Perkin  Warbeck 470 

Russell's  Discourses  on  the  Millenium  350 
Romney's  Memoirs  of  George  Romney  475 
Scott's  Demonology  and  Witchcraft . .  702 
Syme's  Fortunes  of  Francesco  Novello 

da  Carrara 108 

Southey's  Life  of  John  Bunyan 225 

Series  of  Old  Plays 351 

Surr's  Russell,  or  Reign  of  Fashion. .  591 
Seager's  Herman's  Elements  of  Metres  596 

Three  Courses  and  a  Dessert 106 

True  Plan  of  a  Living  Temple 113 

The  Templars , 235 


The  Bereaved,  and  other  Poems  ....  706 

The  Water  Witch 699 

Vega's  Journal  of  a  Tour 342 

Waverley  Novels,  Vol.  XVIII 705 

Webster's  Travels  through  the  Crimea, 

&c 225 

Webster's  Dictionary  of  the  English 

Language 231 

Woodley's  Divine  System  of  the  Uni- 
verse  233 

Waverley  Novels 471 

Welch's  Military  Reminiscenses. . . .   473 
Young's  Elements  of  Analytical  Geo- 
metry    352 

Kotzebue's  New  Voyage , C97 


EMINENT  AND  REMARKABLE  PERSONS, 

Whose  Deaths  are  recorded  in  this  Volume. 


Lord  Redesdale,   122 

Right  Hon.    George 

Tierney,  124 

General  Garth,    126 


Sir  Henry    Clinton, 
126 

Mr.  Winsor,        127 
M.  Prudhomme,  240 


Sir  Robert  Peel,  356 

Hon.  Douglas  Kin- 

naird,     '  357 

Baron  Fouvier,     358 


Right  Hon.  W.Hus- 
kisson,  483 

W.  Hazlitt,Esq.  485 
Mr.  Barrymore,  486 
Mr.  Ferrers,  487 


PRESENTED 

-8  DEC  1849